“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.