CHAPTER XVII
As we stood there in the hush that followed the last bars of the song, Tom came towards us. Dorothy turned to him, starry eyed, and he looked quickly at me. I nodded. Tom smiled widely, as he stretched out his hand.
“Nobody else in the world I’d as soon would have her, old man,” he said, as he nearly wrung my hand off. Then turning to his sister, “Well, little girl, so you’ve waked up at last to the real state of things.” Dorothy clung to his arm.
“Tom, dear, I have, and I am very happy, but—” her voice broke. “It may only be for to-night. Jim leaves at once for the fleet. He is going out to watch the battle, and if the man sends out his waves to sink those ships, I am afraid he’ll sink every other boat anywhere near.”
“This, my children,” said Tom, with a flowing gesture, “is where your old uncle Thomas steps in as the benevolent fairy who saves the handsome lover of the beautiful young princess.”
Dorothy looked at him, her whole soul in her eyes. “Tom, don’t joke. Have you any way by which Jim can go and be safe? I can’t ask him to stay behind for me, when he ought to go.”
“Dorothy,” said Tom seriously, “I think Jim can go and be perfectly safe. I thought this whole business out, coming over in the boat. Not being completely and totally blind, I foresaw the inevitable occurrence which has inevitably occurred, and I didn’t want to lose Jim for my own sake, as well as my sister’s. I’ve had this on my mind ever since we left Portsmouth. I knew he’d think he ought to go; so as soon as I reached Folkestone I had a little yacht built, a sloop with an auxiliary motor, which hasn’t a nail in her. She’s all wood, rubber and canvas, except the engine, and if the engine disappears there’s a set of rubber valves that instantly closes the shaft hole. ‘The man’ can come right up alongside, stand up and throw waves at her, and she can’t sink. I had a wire from there to-night that she was done. They’ve been working on her twenty-four hours a day since I started her, and she’s a mighty nice little boat. The crew is engaged, and all Jim has to do is take possession.”
“That ought to save the boat,” said Dorothy, shaking her head sadly, “but how can you save Jim from the fate of Dr. Heidenmuller, or of the men on the battleships who died as he did?”
“You never did have much opinion of my brains, Dorothy,” said Tom. “Don’t you suppose I thought of the effect those waves would have? You know none of the other ships in Portsmouth harbor were injured, when the German ship disappeared. That proves that the man has some way of directing his waves. So he may not hurt Jim at all. But I didn’t take any chances on that. I’ve had a cage of caema built over the cockpit, and everything is arranged so that the boat can be run without going outside that cage.”