[CHAPTER XI]
ANOTHER PASSENGER
For a moment Tom did not move from the position into which he had fallen when he clambered aboard the derelict. He was exhausted, but, more than this, he was startled by the sound of the childish voice. And yet, in an instant, he knew who had called his name.
“Is—is he here—little Jackie here?” Tom gasped.
“That’s what he is, matie,” answered one of the men. “I’ve been holding him ever since we picked him out of the wreck of a lifeboat, poor little chap. But I guess he’d rather come to you.”
“Tom—Tom Fairfield I want you!” cried Jackie. “Where is my daddy?”
Tom felt a lump come into his throat, but he rose up and answered as best he could.
“I—I’ll take care of you now, Jackie,” said Tom brokenly. “Daddy—I—I guess your daddy is off somewhere in a boat, looking for you. He’ll row up in the morning, and won’t he be surprised when he sees you here ahead of him? Oh, won’t we have a grand joke on him, though!”