"It's getting pretty dark now, Phil. Are you sure you can steer?"
"I think so."
I handed him the rudder and lay down under the canvas. At first I was too restless to sleep; but after awhile tired nature could stand it no longer, and I dropped into a heavy slumber.
"Wake up, Luke, wake up!"
"What's the matter?" I exclaimed.
"I can't say, but something is wrong," he returned.
At once alarmed, I tried to crawl from under the bit of canvas. When I had accomplished this feat—which was not easy, considering how the Hasty rolled and pitched—I gazed at Phil and saw that he was trembling violently.
"What is it, Phil—what scared you?" I went on.
"We struck something," he cried. "I most believe it was part of a boat."
"Something from the Spitfire most likely," I returned.