“Hardly any.”
“That’s good. I guess we’ll make a sailor of you, after a while. Be around at noon, when we take the observation, and I’ll show you how it’s done.”
“I will,” promised Tom, and then he went around the ship, speaking to some of the sailors and officers whom he knew. He also made the acquaintance of several of the passengers. There was one gentleman, a Mr. Case, who, with his little son, aged about seven years, was making the trip to Australia, where he had a business, near Melbourne. He had come to New York with his wife to settle up some affairs, and the child’s mother had died there.
“And now I’m going back,” the father confided to Tom. “I am going to try and forget my sorrow—forget it in hard work.”
Tom felt a deep sympathy for him, and for the child, and the latter lost no time in making friends with our hero. They had many a romp on deck, and Tom made up a number of games and amusements for the lad.
The promise of uncertain weather given by the barometer was not kept, and the ship slipped along through the water in a succession of calm, sunny days. Tom had almost forgotten about the strange man now.
Mr. Trendell was not seen on deck, keeping carefully to his stateroom, and Tom heard that he was suffering much from seasickness. He felt sorry for the man, as only a person can who does not suffer from the qualms of the boat’s motion.
“Jackie was ill on our trip over,” said Mr. Case, the father of Tom’s little playmate, “but I’m glad to see that he’s well going back. I guess it’s the attention you give him that takes his mind off it. But don’t let him be a bother to you.”
“Oh, I like him!” exclaimed Tom, who was fond of children. “He’s a good sailor; eh, Jackie?”
“Sure,” answered the little chap. “Come on, now, let’s play ring-toss some more,” and Tom complied.