I was more astonished than ever. How had they come to know my name!
"So you see there is no mistake," went on the captain, turning to me. "Now I want you to go forward with Lowell. He'll show you the ropes. Come, step lively. We allow no skulking on board the Spitfire. You've signed articles, and you've got to abide by the deed."
"I didn't sign any articles, and if he says so he lies!" I burst out in deep anger at the way I was being treated. "It is true my name is Luke Foster, but how you came by it I don't know."
"Well, you're on the book, and that's all there is to it. Perhaps you were drunk when you signed, but I have nothing to do with that."
"I don't drink," I replied, and such was and is a fact. "This is all a put-up job."
"Hold your tongue!" cried the captain. "Hold your tongue, or I'll crack your head open with a marlinspike! I don't allow any one to talk back to me. Lowell, take him forward."
"Come along," said the sailor. "If the old man gets his dander up it will be all day with you," he added in a whisper.
For a moment I stood irresolute. I had a momentary idea of jumping overboard and swimming for liberty. But land could be seen fully a good half-mile away, and no vessels of consequence were near, so I was forced to give such a course up.
I walked forward, but my mind was in a whirl. Never before had I been so completely taken in. Surely this was escaping from the law with a vengeance!
"Who owns this boat?" I asked, as we reached the forecastle.