“It was—was slipping, and I—I——” spoke Mr. Skeel hesitatingly.
“That’s enough!” cried Tom sternly. “I saw you loosen several of the holding ropes. You wouldn’t have done that if you wanted to make the boat more secure. I believe you intended to desert us. And I believe you tried to take my money belt away from me the other night.”
“Don’t you dare say such things to me!” stormed the former Latin instructor, as though Tom were in his classroom. But the flash of the old-time spirit was only momentary.
“I dare say them because they’re true,” said Tom quietly. “Get away from that boat! Don’t you dare touch another rope.”
“Oh, I—I don’t know what I’m doing!” exclaimed the unhappy man. “I—I believe I’m going out of my mind. Don’t—don’t tell on me, Tom.”
“I must,” spoke the lad gently, and with a feeling of pity rather than anger. “Our lives depend on that boat, and if you are not to be trusted Abe and Joe must know it. I shall have to tell them. They can’t depend on you any more, and they must arrange the watch differently.”
“Oh, Tom, don’t tell!” Mr. Skeel was fairly whining now, and his underlying cowardice showed.
“Abe! Joe!” called Tom sharply.
“Aye, aye! What is it?” asked Abe, appearing at the doorway of the shelter.