At any rate, it looked like the only likely clew to the fate of Mr. Chillingworth and Tom, and was, therefore, worth looking into, for after an examination of the sloop Sam had soon come to the conclusion that there were unusual circumstances connected with her abandonment.
For one thing, he had found that the rope attached to her bow had been cut—and with a keen knife, too. This was the rope, it will be recalled, that was thrown to the capsized mariners from the deck of the schooner, and had been cut when the sloop was set adrift.
But in the meantime Mr. Chillingworth and Tom were encountering a series of adventures stranger than any that had yet befallen the Bungalow Boy, and we must leave Sam and follow their fortunes in the hands of Bully Banjo and his men.
CHAPTER XVI.
AN ATTEMPT AT FOUL PLAY.
As might have been expected, Tom’s outburst was followed by confinement to the cabin. But this he did not mind so much, as Mr. Chillingworth was his companion, and they found more opportunities to talk over their position thus than was the case on deck, where they were constantly under observation.
The cabin of the schooner was plainly furnished. In the center was a swinging table, oilcloth covered, with four plain swivel chairs at each side, and one at each end. On the floor was some gaudy matting. Above the board hung a big brass lamp. It depended from the crossbars under a skylight opening on deck. At the farther end of the cabin was a flight of ladder-like stairs, leading to the deck. On each side were doors, opening on small staterooms. The wood was pine—of no very good quality—and varnished. At the forward end was a bulkhead of the same material, along which ran a lounge covered with leather, or an imitation of it.
They had been almost two days at sea now, and still no intimation had come from Simon Lake as to what his intentions were in regard to them. But even Tom’s attempt to signal the schooner was not punished with any violence, except Zeb Hunt’s knock-down blow.
“Reckin you’ll be safer in the cabin arter this, by Juniper,” Simon Lake had said, helping the recumbent boy to his feet, and that had been all, except that Tom had deemed it prudent to carry out the hint conveyed in Lake’s words to the letter.
It would be wearisome and useless to detail the conversations between Mr. Chillingworth and his young companion. They were all on one subject, and that was: how were they to escape from their predicament. But they all ended in the same place. That is to say—nowhere. Night and day the schooner swarmed with men, so to try to cut away one of the boats, as Tom had suggested, was soon declared to be manifestly impossible.
At meals Simon Lake and Zeb Hunt shared the table with them, but at other times they had the cabin to themselves, except for the occasional ghost-like goings and comings of the tall Chinaman. In this connection it may be interesting to note that since coming on board Tom had seen the recreant Fu. The former employee of Mr. Chillingworth was working on a sail with the crew when his eyes met Tom’s. But whatever he may have felt, no expression appeared on the yellow mask that did duty for his face. Tom surmised that, in exchange for a promise of loyalty to the gang, he had been made one of them. But of the status of the tall Chinaman, who seemed to be a man of some influence with both crew and officers, it was more difficult to guess. Mr. Chillingworth was inclined to think he was some sort of a priest. He based this theory on the veneration which Fu had shown on the night he had seen his big countryman at the burial of the dead in the cove. For the rest, the tall Mongolian ate by himself and had his own cabin. Not by word or sign, since they had been on board, had he conveyed a hint that he had ever seen Tom before, although he must have recognized the boy he had conducted to Simon Lake at the camp in the canyon.