“Not I,” growled Joe. “Now then, Mr. Trendell—”
“You might as well call me Skeel,” said the owner of that name. “Since Tom Fairfield knows me there is no use trying to hide my identity. Not that I have anything to conceal,” he added hastily.
“All right,” agreed Joe. “Now then, let’s make this lifeboat fast in a little better shape, and then we’ll chop off some of the planks and build a sort of shelter. Then we can think about breakfast—that is if the captain says so.”
“Surely,” assented Tom with a smile. “Do as you think best. You know much more about it than I do.”
The two sailors busied themselves, while Jackie looked on interestedly. Mr. Skeel, who was rapidly regaining his strength, after a drink of water, and a bite of biscuit and meat, crawled to Tom.
“Are—are you going to inform on me?” he asked.
“Certainly not,” replied our hero. “I’m done with you. I have no wish to trouble you further. I think you acted very unfairly toward our class, and what you did to my friend Bruce Bennington was criminal, but he does not want to prosecute you, so neither do I.”
“You little knew the temptation I was under,” said the former professor humbly. “I make no explanations, but I will say that I have decided to live a better life. I was going to try in a new country to redeem the past. I had no idea you were on the Silver Star when I engaged passage under another name, and when I saw you, after I had disguised myself, I was greatly startled. I kept to my room, and even thought of adopting another form of false beard and moustache so you would not know me.”
“I recognized you,” said Tom simply. “However, you need not fear me. I will say nothing, and I hope that you can better yourself in your new situation. That is all that need be said.”
“I suppose so,” spoke Mr. Skeel gloomily. “This is a bad beginning for a new life, though—a wreck.”