Tom made the acquaintance of Captain Amos Steerit, the master of the Silver Star, and at once took a liking to him. Our hero went on board several times, when the steamer was loading at her wharf, and made friends with some of the crew.
At last sailing day came, and the bustle and confusion that had been going on for some time seemed redoubled. But there was a certain order about the proceedings, and at last everything had been done.
“I wonder if that fellow is ever coming?” murmured the captain, as he stood on the bridge, waiting to give the word to cast off.
“Who?” asked Tom, as he stood beside the skipper, for being a sort of privileged character, our hero was allowed certain liberties.
“Oh, a passenger who is going to Honolulu, and who engaged a berth by wire. He said he couldn’t come on board until the last minute, but it’s past that now. Ah, maybe this is he coming now.”
Down the wharf came a rather stout man, followed by a stevedore carrying a steamer trunk. There was a certain familiar air about the approaching figure, and Tom found himself wondering where he had seen the man before. The glimpse of the face he had, however, was not enlightening, and our hero soon turned his attention elsewhere, for the getting of the ship under way was somewhat of a novelty to him.
“Well, you finally got here, I see,” half growled the captain from the bridge, as the belated passenger came on board.
“Yes, I—that is I—well, I came as soon as I could,” said the man, pantingly.
Tom wheeled at the sound of the voice, but he had no chance for a close inspection of the man’s face. For, no sooner had our hero shown his curiosity, than the passenger turned, and fairly ran toward the berth deck, at the same time calling: