burning up. "We must rig a covering of some kind."
There was a small part of the sail that was not used. This I cut off, and putting the center of it over the box of provisions as it rested above the cask, I fastened the four ends to the corners of the doors, and that gave us a miniature cabin, in which we took turns in resting.
By good fortune there was a stiff breeze blowing directly from the east, so by skillful management, we kept the head of the raft pointed in the direction we wanted to go.
As we sailed along Phil Jones told me much concerning himself.
"I've lived with Captain Hannock ever since I can remember," he began. "My father was a sailor, and he died on board the Spitfire, leaving me in charge of those on board. My father was mate, and I've heard that Captain Hannock was a better man in those days."
"Wasn't your mother living?"
"No: she died when I was a little baby. That's the reason, I suppose, the captain took me in charge."
"Then perhaps he had no legal right to do so."
"I don't know about that. But I'm sure he had no legal right to bang me around the way he did."
