Kitabı oku: «Tom Fairfield at Sea: or, The Wreck of the Silver Star», sayfa 6
CHAPTER XV
MAKING A BOAT
“Say, what’s the matter with you?” burst out Abe. “Do you think I’m crazy, Joe?”
“There, there now. It’s all right. You’ll be over it in a little while. Just lie down,” begged his mate.
“He sure does,” murmured Abe smiling. “He sure thinks I’m touched in the head. Ho! Ho! That’s a good one. Joe thinks I’m crazy!” and he laughed heartily.
Joe looked at Tom, and shook his head sadly. Even Tom himself began to believe that perhaps the hardships of their position, and the horror of what might come, had turned the sailor’s brain. But his laugh seemed natural.
“I’m all right!” insisted Abe, seeing that they were looking at him curiously.
“Then what do you mean by that talk about a smaller boat, and leaving the derelict?” demanded Joe half angrily.
“I meant just what I said.”
“And I say anybody’s crazy that talks like that. Where are we going to get a smaller boat?”
“It’s right here with us now,” declared Abe. “There she is,” and he pointed to the half smashed lifeboat. “We can cut that in two, use the stern and bow that ain’t a bit damaged, fasten ’em together in the middle, with the airtight compartments in each end, and we’ll have as fine a small boat as we could wish.
“We can hoist the sail on it and then we can make some speed, instead of just drifting along. I wonder I didn’t think of it before, but it only sort of just came to me now, and that’s why I got excited I guess.”
“I sure thought you were raving,” declared Joe. “It didn’t seem natural.”
“And you thought I was touched by the sun; eh, mate?”
“I sure did.”
“Ho! Ho! That’s a good joke! A good one! It’ll do to tell the boys when we see ’em again.”
“If we ever do,” put in Joe half gloomily.
“Of course we will!” insisted Abe. “Wait until I get the boat made and you’ll see.”
“But do you think you can do it?” asked Tom. “Won’t it leak?”
“Not when I get through with it,” declared Abe. “I can calk the seams with some of our clothes, and part of the sail cloth. You will see.”
“But with only an axe, I don’t see how you’re going to cut the boat in two, and fasten the two ends together,” insisted Tom.
“I’ve done harder jobs than that, matie,” declared Abe. “Wait until I get to work.”
He then explained his plan. The lifeboat was badly damaged amidships, but both the bow and stern, where the airtight compartments were located, were in good shape. By cutting the boat in twain, severing the damaged portions and bringing the sections together again, lapping them and making them fast with the copper nails drawn from the useless parts, Abe hoped to make a serviceable craft, though crude.
“It may leak some,” he admitted, “but I’ll stuff the cracks up with ravelings from the sail cloth, and our clothes that we need least. Between us we can spare enough. Then I’ll make a mast for the sail, and we can leave this hulk and get somewhere. And Joe thought I was touched by the sun! Ho! Ho! A good joke! A good one!”
“All right,” assented Joe. “If you make that boat you’ll be a good one. I’ll help, of course, but I don’t believe it can be done.”
“I’ll show you!” exclaimed Abe defiantly.
Forthwith they began to work, even Mr. Skeel doing his share. He had settled into a gloomy silence, scarcely speaking unless spoken to, and he seemed to pay little attention to those about him. Clearly the shipwreck, and the unexpected meeting with the lad who had exposed his villainy at Elmwood Hall, had dispirited him. Yet at times he showed a flash of his old manners.
It was harder work than even Abe had imagined, to cut the boat in two, and get out the damaged part. Especially with only an axe to use. Yet the old sailor handled the implement with skill, and showed that he knew his business.
Tom looked after the meals, though he had not much to do, for the menu was not very varied. He had to keep Jackie amused, too, and invented such little games as fishing over the broken rail of the ship with a string for a line, and no hook, and making fairy castles out of the splinters that Abe knocked off the lifeboat.
Several days passed, and though they looked almost every other minute for a sail or a sight of land they saw nothing. They were borne on by the currents and the light winds that at times scarcely filled their clumsy sail.
The watches were kept as before, Tom not being allowed to share in them. But the darkness of the night was not relieved by any welcome light. The days seemed to become more dreary as they passed, and only for the work of making the boat they might not have stood the time so well. But the work was a blessing to them.
Tom looked anxiously at the store of food, and as he saw it diminishing, and no help of rescue at hand he spoke to the two sailors about it.
“Well, we’ll have to reduce rations, that’s all, matie,” said Joe, and he spoke cheerfully.
“Of course,” assented Abe. “I’ll have the boat done in a few more days, and then we can set sail. Reduce rations! If I only had a saw I could work faster, but I’ll do the best I can. Reduce rations, that’s all. I’m getting too fat as it is.”
He laughed at his joke, and a grim joke it was, for his belt had been taken in several holes, and could stand more. They were all becoming thin.
When the next meal, after the reduced ration decision had been arrived at, was served, Mr. Skeel looked at the portion handed him on the top of a beef tin.
“Is that all I get?” he demanded roughly. “That isn’t enough for a man.”
“It’s all that can safely be given,” spoke Tom, quietly.
“Well I want more. I demand my fair share.”
“That’s your fair share, mate,” said Joe grimly. “It’s as much as any of us have. We’re on short rations, don’t you understand?”
“Huh! That may be so, but I notice that you have charge of the food,” and he sneered at Tom.
“Because we voted him to do so,” put in Abe. “And what the majority says goes!”
“The boy has more than I have!” snarled the former professor, and he glanced at Jackie who, under a little tent he had made from a spare piece of the sail, was eating his lunch at a “play party,” as he called it.
“That’ll do you!” snapped Joe, shaking a menacing finger at Mr. Skeel. “You eat what you’ve got, and be thankful on your bended knees that you’ve got that much. And if I hear any more talk that the boy has more than you, why I’ll – ”
“Easy matie,” cautioned Abe. “Easy.”
Tom looked distressed, but said nothing. When the water was passed, that too had dwindled in amount. Mr. Skeel looked at his share, and seemed about to make a protest, but a glance from Joe stopped him.
The weather had been fine for several days; too fine to last, Abe declared as he worked away at the boat.
“We’re in for another storm, I’m thinking,” he said to Joe.
“Well, keep still about it,” suggested his companion. “No use making Tom and the kid worry. I guess we can weather it.”
“The waves’ll sweep over this old hulk, once they get running high,” went on Abe. “And that deck house won’t stand much. The boat, too, is likely to be washed away. If I only had a saw I could make twice the speed. But I don’t reckon I could get one.”
“Leastways not unless there’s one aboard, down in the carpenter’s quarters,” said Joe, “and I don’t see how it’s to be come at. We’ll have to do the best we can.”
“I reckon so. Catch hold of that plank now, and hold it while I chop it off.”
They resumed work, pausing now and then to look at the sky. It clouded up in the afternoon, and there came a heavy rain storm, unaccompanied by much wind, for which last fact they were thankful.
“This is just what we need!” cried Abe, as he saw the big drops come down. “Spread out the sail cloth, mates, and catch all the water we can. We’ll need it.”
The sail was hastily taken down, and with another piece of the canvas was spread out in the form of a huge bowl. The rain filled it, and, making a sort of channel at one end, the precious water was run into the nearly empty kegs. Thus their supply was replenished, and with lighter hearts they resumed their task, the two sailors and Mr. Skeel working at the boat, while Tom steered.
It was about a week since they had taken refuge on the derelict, and the signs of an approaching change in the weather were increasing. In all that time they had not seen a sail, and what was more remarkable, they had not sighted an island, though they were in that part of the Pacific where many are located.
“Either we are passing in and out among them, just far enough away so as to miss ’em, or we can’t pick ’em out on account of the mist,” explained Joe. “I was sure we’d sight one before this.”
“Same here,” murmured Abe. “It’s middling queer, though. But if our grub holds out we’ll soon be afloat in a better craft.”
“It doesn’t look like it,” declared Joe. “You’ve get a lot of work on it yet.”
“I know I have, and if only there was a saw I’d make double speed.”
Joe did not answer but walked forward to where the hatchway, opening down into the lower regions of the ship, showed. It was more out of water than at any previous time, and it could be seen that there was a passage leading into the crew’s quarters. Joe stood contemplating this, and then slowly began taking off his shoes, and some of his garments.
“Hi! matie, what are you up to?” hailed Abe, seeing his actions. “Going for a swim? If you are you’d better look out for sharks. I see some big fins in the offing this morning.”
“No, I’m not going to swim – I’m going to have a dive.”
“A dive?”
“Yes. I’m going down and see if I can’t fetch up a saw, or something so you can finish that boat quicker.”
Abe dropped the axe and hurried toward his companion.
“Say, don’t you do it,” he gasped. “You might not be able to get up again, and we can’t afford to lose you.”
“No danger! If I get into a place, Abe, I can get out again. I’m going to dive and get you a saw.”
“Don’t do it!” urged the other. “I can make out some how.”
“Here goes!” cried Joe, and with that he walked down the half-submerged companion steps and dived into the water-filled forecastle quarters.
CHAPTER XVI
WIND AND WAVE TOSSED
Abe stood looking anxiously down into the dark opening where his mate had disappeared. Tom, understanding that something unusual was taking place, also hurried up to look on, and Mr. Skeel and Jackie followed.
“Is – is it safe?” asked our hero, for it was as if some one had gone down a well.
“Well – er – hardly – that is to say, of course it is!” exclaimed Abe, quickly changing his mind, as he saw the little boy regarding him curiously. “Joe’ll come up in a minute with just the very thing we need – maybe.”
Tom caught the alarmed note in the sailor’s voice.
“Why did you let him do it?” he asked in a whisper.
“There was no stopping him,” answered Abe. “He would do it. He knew that I needed a saw, but, pshaw! I’d rather he hadn’t done it. I could have made out, only the storm that – ”
Then he stopped at the look of alarm on Tom’s face.
“What storm?” demanded the lad.
“Oh, Joe had a notion that a storm was coming up, and he wanted us to get the boat done before then, so we’d have a chance to scud before the wind. But, bless my jib-boom! there ain’t going to be no storm, in my estimation,” and Abe cast a hasty glance about the heavens, now cloud-encumbered. “No storm at all – leastways not soon,” he added.
Amid a strained silence they all watched the opening into the ship, waiting for the reappearance of Joe. A minute went by, and he did not come up. A minute and a half, – two minutes!
“He can’t stay under much longer,” murmured Abe.
“No man can hold his breath that long under water,” spoke Mr. Skeel, “at least not an ordinary man. Maybe something has – ”
He hesitated, Abe began taking off his shoes, ready for a rescue.
“Hadn’t we better tie a rope to you?” suggested Tom, understanding the danger.
“I – I’ll – ” began Abe, and then there was a commotion in the water, and Joe shot up. He did not seem to be in distress. In one hand he held up a carpenter’s hammer.
“We were just getting worried about you,” said Tom, with a breath of relief.
“How’d you manage to stay down so long?” asked Abe.
“I – I found air down there,” explained Joe, pantingly. “The cabin isn’t quite full of water, and I stuck my nose up close to the ceiling and got a breath in an air space.”
“Did you locate a saw?” asked Abe.
“Not yet. But I will. I found the carpenter’s quarters all right. I’ve got to go by feeling, but I’ll get a saw sooner or later. Here’s a hammer, anyhow.”
He tossed it to Abe and then, after a rest, he went down again. This time he remained under longer than before and coming up brought an adze, which would come in useful. It was on his third trial that he located a saw, quite rusted, it is true, but nevertheless a saw.
“Hurray!” cried Tom.
“Now I can do something!” declared Abe. “I can work quicker now.”
“There are some more tools down there,” said Joe. “I’m going to bring some up.”
Which he did, after a number of trials, and some other things that would prove useful, including several coils of strong rope. But he could find no food, and, probably had he come upon any it would have been spoiled.
“Never mind,” said Abe, when his partner had commented on this failure. “We’ll make out somehow. And we’ll soon be afloat in a better craft. Can you spare me a bit of that canned beef fat, Tom, so I can grease up this saw?”
Tom passed him a chunk that was hardly edible, but Mr. Skeel seemed to eye it greedily. He was a large man, and had a big appetite that was far from being satisfied on the meager rations that were available.
The saw was soon in shape to use, and then Abe and Joe could work to better advantage. That night the boat sections were joined together, and the next day would see the practical completion of the craft.
“It’ll have to be well calked,” said Abe, as he looked critically at his handiwork in the gathering dusk. “Them seams ain’t just what I’d like ’em to be, though it was the best I could do. But if I stuff ’em well with rags and such-like I guess it’ll answer. We’ll get at that the first thing in the morning.”
“And we’ll lash the boat well down to-night,” spoke Joe in a low voice to his companion.
“Yes, I shouldn’t wonder but what we were in for a blow,” was the rejoinder. “But don’t say anything to Tom.”
“You don’t need to. I begin to suspect something,” exclaimed our hero, with a grim smile, as he came up behind the two. “I’m not afraid to know the worst,” he went on. “In fact I want to know it. I’ll be better prepared then. Do you think we’re in for a blow?”
“I come pretty near knowing it, matie,” said Joe in a low voice. “We weren’t to tell you, but we’re in the storm region now, and I don’t need one of them barometers to tell me we’re going to have plenty of wind and water soon. But don’t worry. The old derelict has gone through many a one, and she’ll stand another blow or two I guess. We’ll make everything as snug as we can. You just look after the kid and yourself.”
“Poor little chap,” murmured Abe. “I wonder where his father is?”
“Lost, I reckon, like most of the other poor souls that were on the Silver Star,” spoke Joe, gloomily.
“Oh, you get out!” cried his mate. “You’d have us all in Davy Jones’s locker if you had your way. Maybe the boy’s dad is saved, and maybe all the rest were picked up. And we’ll be all right soon, you see if we’re not.”
The cheerfulness of the old sailor was infectious, and Tom felt better after hearing his cheery talk. True, our hero had his moments of sadness, particularly when he thought of his missing parents. And often he found himself wondering what might be their fate, and where they were. At night, as he stretched out beside little Jackie, under the rude shelter, he spent many hours of wakefulness. But he tried not to show his feelings to the others.
There was a moaning and sighing to the wind as darkness came on, and the sailors, with Tom and Mr. Skeel to aid them, used the ropes to lash fast the reconstructed boat and the wooden shelter. The rude sail filled out and urged the derelict on at a faster pace.
“If this kept up we’d get somewhere,” observed Tom, as he relieved Abe at the helm.
“Yes, but we’ll make twice the speed in our boat,” said the old sailor proudly.
The wreck was rising and falling on the swell, the big oily waves seeming to curl after her as though in time they would reach up and pull her down into their depths. There were no white-caps yet – they would come later.
“We are going to have a storm, aren’t we; a violent storm soon?” demanded Mr. Skeel, when it was almost dark, and the wind was sighing more mournfully than before.
“I reckon so,” answered Abe calmly.
“Then can’t we do something more to make ourselves secure?”
“Nary a thing more,” spoke the old sailor. “We’ve done all we can.”
The face of the former professor was white, and he paced up and down that portion of the deck less exposed to the waves. He was a coward and he showed it.
The derelict dipped her half-buried bow farther under a wave. It broke, running well up on the deck, and breaking against the lashed lifeboat, sent a shower of spray aft.
“Oh, it’s raining! It’s raining!” cried Jackie. “If we only had umbrellas now, Tom.”
“We’ll need more than umbrellas before morning, I’m thinking,” murmured Joe.
All that could be done had been, and when the last remnant of daylight faded, earlier than usual because of the clouds, Tom took his little charge inside the shelter. They stretched out on the canvas bed, and Tom joined silently with the child, who said aloud his simple prayers, asking that they might all be looked after by the All-seeing Providence.
The derelict forged ahead through the waves, blown by the ever increasing wind. She rose sluggishly on the swell – all too sluggishly – for she was not buoyant enough to escape the breaking swells. But still, aft, it was comparatively dry.
“It’s going to be a bad night – a bad night,” murmured Joe, who had the first trick at the helm.
Tom managed to get some sleep, holding Jackie’s hand, but about midnight he was awakened by being fairly rolled out of the shelter.
“What – what’s the matter?” he cried.
“It’s the storm!” cried Abe, springing up. “It’s broke for fair, I guess!”
Tom sprang to his feet and looked out. He could dimly see the big waves all around them, and he felt the derelict pitching and tossing in a swirl of water. It was at the mercy of the storm.
Then came a fiercer burst of the elements, a dash of rain, and a tearing howl of the wind. The derelict heeled over, while a flood of water washed over the bow and came curling aft.
“Look out!” yelled Abe, as he saw Tom roll forward, and he grabbed our hero in time to save him from once more pitching overboard.
CHAPTER XVII
A HAND IN THE NIGHT
“Thanks, Abe,” gasped Tom, when he could speak, for the fright and fear of again being flung into the ocean had taken his breath.
“That’s nothing, lad,” came the calm answer. “Are you all right?”
“Yes. But this is a terrible storm, isn’t it?”
“It might be worse. It was worse when the Silver Star foundered. We’ll weather it, I hope.”
A cry came from the interior of the shelter. It was Jackie.
“Tom! Tom! Where are you?” he called.
“Coming!” answered Tom, and he staggered into the place where his little charge was lying.
Tom, groping about in the dark, found Jackie. The little fellow had rolled from the hollow in the pile of sail cloth that made his bed.
“All right, Jackie, it’s all right,” spoke Tom soothingly. “We’re riding on top of the waves like a merry-go-’round. Go to sleep now.”
And, so tired was the little fellow, and such was his confidence in Tom, that he did slumber again.
The storm grew worse, and at times the spray from the big waves flew over the top of the wooden shelter, and dripped down inside. The wind blew aside the canvas that closed the front and threatened to lift, bodily, the structure itself.
But the sailors had done their work well. The rope lashings held, though they were strained to their limit. The lifeboat, moored as it was to the deck, tried in vain to break loose to join with the waves in their revelry of the storm. Joe and Abe looked to it, testing every knot, however, and their seamanship told. For the present they could defy the storm.
Mr. Skeel fairly whimpered when he saw the big seas all about them, but no one paid any attention to him and he had to make out as best he could. He tried to shirk his trick at the helm, but Abe, taking hold of his arm, marched him to the rude steering apparatus, and bade him hold to it for his life.
“But I – I may be washed overboard,” objected the former professor.
“You’re in less danger here than any of us,” declared the sailor. “You stay here until your time is up,” and Mr. Skeel dared not disobey. His spirit had been broken when Tom, and his chums of Elmwood Hall, had successfully gone on their strike.
How they got through that night the castaways hardly knew afterward. Several times it seemed as if the wind would carry away either the structure they had built on deck, or the lifeboat that had been reconstructed with such labor. But the two sailors, with Tom to help them, made lashing after lashing, as one or another tore away and so they held to that which they needed most.
Little Jackie proved himself a hero, for when Tom had explained that he must stay alone part of the time, the little fellow obeyed, though he had hard work to choke back the sobs when his companion was out on deck, doing what he could to keep the boat from being carried away.
When the storm had been raging for an hour or more there was a sudden tilt to the derelict, and a grinding crashing sound somewhere in her depths.
“What’s that?” cried Tom in alarm.
“Her cargo is shifting!” shouted Abe, above the roar of the storm. “I hope it doesn’t shift too much.”
Almost immediately afterward there seemed to be less spray coming aft.
“She’s risen by the head!” cried Joe, who managed to make an observation at great risk to himself. “The lumber below decks has shifted aft and her bow is higher out of water. That makes it good for us. We’ll be drier now.”
And this was so. With the bow higher out of the water the craft presented a better front to the breaking seas, and what at first seemed a calamity turned out to be a great blessing.
The remainder of the night, though the storm did not abate, was not such a source of worry to the refugees. True, the wind was as violent, and it even shifted their shelter from where it was lashed on deck, but the waves did not bring so much discomfort, for the higher bow sent them hissing away on either side.
Somehow morning broke, and in the gray dawn they looked about on a storm-tossed waste of waters. Now they would be down in a hollow of the waves, and again high on some crest, at which latter time they looked anxiously for a sail. But they saw none.
It was just a little after day had broken that the improvised mast gave way with a snap, and would have gone overboard with their precious sail, had not Abe and Joe made a hasty grab, saving it.
“We need that in our boat – if it ever gets calm enough to calk it,” declared Abe.
“What about breakfast?” asked Tom a little later. “I guess we can all eat.”
“Right you are, my hearty!” cried Joe. Even the terrible storm could not dampen the spirits of the sailors. Little Jackie was happier too, now that daylight had come, and only Mr. Skeel seemed moody and depressed. He looked at his companions without speaking.
The storm seemed to have spent its fury in the night, for, as the day grew, the wind lessened and the waves went down. The mast was mended and set up again, but a reefed sail had to be used, for the gale was too strong to risk another accident with the frail gear they had.
“It may blow us to some island, and then we won’t have to use the boat,” said Joe.
“Oh, don’t talk that way,” begged Abe.
“Why not? Don’t you want to be rescued?”
“Yes, but I’d like a chance to use the boat I’ve made,” was the rejoinder. “Come on, now, we’ll try and calk it.”
They started this work after a meager breakfast, during which Mr. Skeel looked hungrily at the rations passed around. Even less was given than before, for the provisions were getting alarmingly low, though there was still plenty of water, for which they were thankful.
It was no easy task to calk the boat, with such tools and material as Abe and Joe had, but it was a credit to their seamanship that they made a good job of it. They tested it by pouring water into the craft as it was lashed to the deck.
“She doesn’t leak much!” exclaimed Abe in delight as he watched a few drops trickle out. “When she swells up she’ll be all right, and we can bail if we have to. Now for a sail.”
He and his companion rigged up a mast, and the sail was taken down from the derelict and fitted to it. This took another day, during which the storm’s traces vanished, and the weather became once more calm.
“We’ll launch her to-morrow,” decided Abe that night. “I guess she’s all right.”
“Will it be hard to put her into the sea?” asked Tom.
“Easy enough, the way the derelict is listed now,” was the answer. “All we’ll have to do will be to get into her, cut the retaining rope, and let her slide. Then we’ll be off.”
Tom heard some one behind him as the sailor told him this, and he turned to see Mr. Skeel regarding him curiously. There was a strange look on the former professor’s face.
They went to rest that night filled with thoughts of the prospects before them on the morrow. It seemed, after all, as if they might be saved, for both Joe and Abe declared that they must be near some island, and a day’s sail would bring them to it, if they could sail fast enough.
Tom stretched out beside little Jackie that night with a thankful heart.
“I’ll find dad and mother yet!” he whispered to himself.
Mr. Skeel was slumbering on the other side of the shelter, at least if heavy breathing went for anything he was. Abe and Joe were out on deck, putting the spare provisions and water into the lifeboat, for they had decided to leave as soon as possible in the morning.
Tom fell into a doze. How long he slept he hardly knew, but he was suddenly awakened by feeling a hand cautiously moving over his body. It was on his chest first, and then it went lower until the fingers touched the money belt he had worn since the loss of the Silver Star.
“Who’s that? Is that you, Jackie?” asked Tom, and his hand went quickly over to the head of his little charge. Jackie was sleeping quietly.
“Who was that?” asked Tom.
There was no answer. It was too dark to see, and he could strike no light. Someone moved across the floor of the shelter.
“Abe! Joe!” called Tom cautiously. Then he added: “Mr. Skeel!”
A snore answered him from the former professor’s sleeping place. Tom stole cautiously to the opening of the shelter. He could hear the two sailors talking together at the helm.
