“In a little while, Jackie, my boy!” Tom answered. “I’ll get in after you do.”
“Come with me and my papa,” invited the little lad, and he started to run across the heaving deck, but his parent caught him up in his arms and hugged him close.
The engines that had started up, after a temporary stoppage caused by the collision, again suddenly ceased to work, and once more the Silver Star lay at the mercy of the wind and waves. It was raining now, and the storm was at its height, the wind whipping the stinging drops into the faces of everyone.
“Hurry, men!” urged the captain. “Get them into the boat and follow yourselves. Where are you going, Tom?” he asked, for the commander had come down from the bridge.
“To my cabin to get some of my things,” answered the lad.
“Better not. We’ll have to be quick! She’s beginning to settle. She won’t last much longer! There must be a big hole ripped in her. What’s the matter with those signal lights?” he cried.
“Aye, aye, sir!” came the answer, and a moment later there flared up the glare of the rockets that might serve to call help to the stricken vessel. The wireless, too, was crackling out an appeal, but this did not last long, as the dynamo was soon put out of commission, and the storage battery did not seem to work.
“Well, I guess we’ve got to go,” mused Tom. “This is certainly a bad start toward the rescue of dad and mother!” and he felt a mist of tears come into his eyes, that mingled with the rain and the salty spray of the sea.
“Are all the women and children in?” asked the captain, for one boat would more than serve to hold them.