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THE LAST CRUISE OF THE SPITFIRE;
CHAPTER XXIV.
PICKED UP.
The afternoon drifted into evening, and somewhat disheartened we prepared to pass another night on the Hasty. We arranged that Phil should sleep first for about three hours, and then I was to take my turn.
"Tie yourself fast," said I, "or you may roll off."
He followed my advice, and it was not long before he was in a sound slumber. I sat on the cask, steering as well as I could by the stars. Suddenly from out of the gloom ahead an object loomed up. I started to my feet and strained my eyes.
It was a steam yacht!
For an instant I could hardly believe my eyes. Then I gave a wild cry that caused Phil to jump up in alarm.
"What is it?" he asked anxiously.
"A ship!"
"A ship! Where?"
