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.