It was the voice of Rosewater, speaking, as usual, in "threes."
"I haven't much appetite, but I suppose we had better eat something," said Tom. "Jeff, you and the professor go first. I'll take the wheel. The engines won't need watching for a while."
Jeff was about to expostulate and urge Tom, who looked tired and jaded, to go to the table, but he suddenly recollected that the eldest Dacre lad was now, to all intents and purposes, the captain of the Sea Ranger.
So, with an "aye! aye, sir!" and a touch of his cap, he hastened off with the professor to the comfortable cabin astern. Rosewater, considering the short time he had been on board, had certainly performed wonders in the culinary department. The table was properly spread with linen and silver, and while we are not going to describe the meal in detail, it was as good as could have been obtained in any city hotel.
But, to the disappointment of the black, who hovered solicitously over their chairs, neither his master nor the professor ate much. Their conversation was more limited than their appetites. The strain under which they were laboring was beginning to tell on them.
Nor did Tom, when he in his turn took his place at the table, display any more ability as a trencherman. He knew the cruel, desperate characters of the men who had captured Sandy and Jack too well to hope for any good treatment for his brother and his chum. On the contrary, he did not know to what sufferings they might be put by their brutal captors, especially as Tom's own escape must have enraged Walstein and Dampier to the point of madness.
He speculated a good deal as to whether the two rascals had carried out their intention of writing a letter to his uncle, demanding ransom. It seemed probable, but in the rush of events that was coincident with the Sea Ranger's departure from Rockport, Tom had no opportunity to find out. He had, however, ascertained that there was a wireless station there, and at various other points along the lakes, and he promised himself that, at the first opportunity, he would take advantage of this, to send Mr. Dacre a wireless message.
"I only wish we had had the Sea Ranger so equipped," mused Tom, who had taken considerable interest in wireless at school, "I'm a pretty fair sender and receiver myself, and if we'd only had an apparatus I could have used it to advantage right now. For instance, I could have sent out 'a general alarm' for those ruffians on the tug."
Tom's meal, as may be supposed, did not take long, and he soon left the table, which caused Rosewater to remark, sotto voce:
"Dat boy am grievin'! dat boy am grievin'! dat boy suttinly am grievin', when he kin jes look at candied sweet potatoes an' say 'not to-day, fank you'!"