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THE LAST CRUISE OF THE SPITFIRE;

the planks more tightly together. That rude structure now seemed to be our only hope for safety.

And thus the night of awful peril wore on.


*******


"This is the very worst storm I ever saw."

It was Phil who uttered the words. He was lying flat on the top of the cask, holding on tightly to the ropes that held the mast. He had been in that position for fully two hours, and it was plain to see that he was nearly exhausted.

"Keep up your courage," I replied. "The worst is over, I'm certain. This storm wouldn't appear so bad if we were on shipboard."

The box of provisions had become thoroughly water-soaked, and it was now resting on the flooring of the raft, and I was using it to lie upon, so that the waves might not wash over me so freely.

Far over in the east I could see a faint break in the clouds, and to this I laid my hope of a change for the better. But the cabin boy shook his head.

"Storms don't clear that way."

"Yet this one may."

"Hope you're right, but I don't think so."

An instant after these words there was a terrible clap of thunder, and following it a deluge of rain that almost swept us from the raft.