“And I’m with you!” cried the commander, holding out his hand, which Tom took in a firm grip.
The Sea Queen was a fast little steamer and, favored by good weather, she made excellent time. In due course the island of Tongatabu was sighted and one night the vessel Tom had chartered to search for his parents lay at anchor in the harbor. There was not much of a settlement on the island in those days, but such as it was there was news to be had, of a sort, though not the kind Tom wanted.
For he could learn nothing of his parents. There were rumors of wrecks, and of castaways coming ashore, but none from the Kangaroo.
In fact a crew from another wrecked sailing ship had come ashore to Tongatabu, but they knew nothing of the casting away of the ship on which Mr. and Mrs. Fairfield had sailed.
“You might do one thing,” said a friendly Englishman who had some business interests on the island. “I understand there are some natives here from surrounding islands. You might ask them if they have heard of any white castaways coming ashore at any of the places where they live.”
Tom and Captain Mosher welcomed the suggestion and followed it. They found the natives—rather a shiftless lot—and questioned them through an interpreter. But to no purpose.
The simple black men told stories of wrecks that had happened ten years back, and related how the castaways from them had come ashore, either to remain there in an idle existence, or to take the first steamer back for civilization. There were more rumors, but nothing definite.
“The only thing to do,” decided Captain Mosher, “is to visit all the islands in the immediate vicinity of Tongatabu. In that way we’ll get first hand information.”
“And we may find them!” cried Tom eagerly. “Let’s start off again!”