“You are tough as a knot yet, Captain,” said Jim soothingly.
So it happened that the captain in his heavy storm coat stood on the bridge, while the rain swished and swirled over the tossing seas, and swept the decks, so that it was much pleasanter in the cabin than abroad, but Jim enjoyed nothing more in sailoring than to be at the wheel a night like this, guiding his craft plunging through the heavy waves in the darkness. There was a fascination about it, the obedience of the ship to the helm, the following of the mysterious guidance of the needle, the standing fixed against the rush of wind and rain, the familiar feeling of the spokes of the wheel, like grasping the bridle reins when riding a spirited horse, all this went to make up Jim’s liking for this work.
Now being anxious for the welfare of Tom and Jo, let us see if they are safely tucked away in their little cribs. We find that they are not, so mischief must be afoot, and it is. It seems that neither Jo nor Tom were in any mood to go to sleep, and their minds were busy with the story that the engineer had told them. They felt a desire to emulate him. So they lay awake and thought what they might do to make life interesting on the ocean wave.
Tom thought of surprising the captain and Jim by making weird sounds back of the cabin on the quarter deck and robing himself in a white sheet at the same time. A most excellent plan indeed, both worthies being such timid characters. But Tom gave up the idea of this surprise for fear the tables might be turned on him and then he would get a taste of the rope’s end for fair, so he had another thought coming.
The idea that came to Jo in the silent night watches was to give Jeems a benefit while he was busy stoking, but there was one difficulty here that it was almost impossible to get down into the hold without being discovered, so that plan had to be given up. Then an inspiration came to Tom.
He got hastily up, and went to Jo’s cabin, which was just forward of his on the main deck. You see there were three cabins on a side; each of the boys had one and the engineer the sixth. Tom did not stop to knock, and slid Jo’s cabin door noiselessly back, but the wakeful Jo heard him.
“Who’s there?” he demanded in a gruff voice.
“Don’t shoot. It’s me, Tom,” replied a low voice.
“Well, Mr. Tom, what are you doing up so early in the morning?” inquired Jo.
“I’ve got a scheme,” said Tom in the low voice of a conspirator. “Let’s surprise old Pete and the boy in the forecastle.”