Tom rose with a sigh of weariness; he felt stiff in every joint, and with a last remnant of clear intellect he said to himself: "I must bide my time.... If they discover me now I am lost."
He fixed his aching eyes upon the rocking life-boat. No, not that one; unsteadily he staggered over to the boat on the larboard, which was properly made fast and covered with a tarpaulin, under which he crept and lay at full length at the bottom; thinking that, for the present, at least, he would be safe there. No one suspected that he was on board, and no one would look for him there.
* * * * *
At frequent intervals the siren on the yacht shrieked and was answered by signals from other vessels. The "Ariadne," with full steam up, sped through the fog, which entirely prevented Tom from forming any idea of his bearings. Neither land nor water could be distinguished. He heard steps approaching and a deep voice which could be none other than Dixon's said:
"Well, Captain, we will go straight to Hurricane Island now. Think we can do it in three days and three nights? That is the time the last voyage took us, I remember."
"Oh yes, Mr. Dixon," replied another voice, clear, yet respectful and decisive. "We will do our best; the 'Ariadne' is a good girl, and I suppose you are in a desperate hurry this time?"
"Never was in such a hurry in all my life before," said the owner of the yacht, in an amicable tone.
"H—m," said the captain, "we may have a storm, for at this time of year Hurricane Island deserves the name. If we don't, I promise you we shall be there by Thursday morning, Mr. Dixon."
"Not so bad," said Dixon. "Thursday morning then, eh?" He went down the stairs and the captain returned to the bridge.
"Hurricane Island," thought Tom, "whereever is Hurricane Island?" He made an effort to think over what he had heard, but the noise of the machinery dulled his tired brain and with the raw, foggy air in his nostrils, he fell into a heavy sleep.