Chapter XV: Making a Boat

“Say, what’s the matter with you?” burst out Abe. “Do you think I’m crazy, Joe?”

“There, there now. It’s all right. You’ll be over it in a little while. Just lie down,” begged his mate.

“He sure does,” murmured Abe smiling. “He sure thinks I’m touched in the head. Ho! Ho! That’s a good one. Joe thinks I’m crazy!” and he laughed heartily.

Joe looked at Tom, and shook his head sadly. Even Tom himself began to believe that perhaps the hardships of their position, and the horror of what might come, had turned the sailor’s brain. But his laugh seemed natural.

“I’m all right!” insisted Abe, seeing that they were looking at him curiously.

“Then what do you mean by that talk about a smaller boat, and leaving the derelict?” demanded Joe half angrily.

“I meant just what I said.”

“And I say anybody’s crazy that talks like that. Where are we going to get a smaller boat?”

“It’s right here with us now,” declared Abe. “There she is,” and he pointed to the half smashed lifeboat. “We can cut that in two, use the stern and bow that ain’t a bit damaged, fasten ’em together in the middle, with the airtight compartments in each end, and we’ll have as fine a small boat as we could wish.

“We can hoist the sail on it and then we can make some speed, instead of just drifting along. I wonder I didn’t think of it before, but it only sort of just came to me now, and that’s why I got excited I guess.”

“I sure thought you were raving,” declared Joe. “It didn’t seem natural.”

“And you thought I was touched by the sun; eh, mate?”

“I sure did.”

“Ho! Ho! That’s a good joke! A good one! It’ll do to tell the boys when we see ’em again.”

“If we ever do,” put in Joe half gloomily.

“Of course we will!” insisted Abe. “Wait until I get the boat made and you’ll see.”

“But do you think you can do it?” asked Tom. “Won’t it leak?”

“Not when I get through with it,” declared Abe. “I can calk the seams with some of our clothes, and part of the sail cloth. You will see.”

“But with only an axe, I don’t see how you’re going to cut the boat in two, and fasten the two ends together,” insisted Tom.

“I’ve done harder jobs than that, matie,” declared Abe. “Wait until I get to work.”

He then explained his plan. The lifeboat was badly damaged amidships, but both the bow and stern, where the airtight compartments were located, were in good shape. By cutting the boat in twain, severing the damaged portions and bringing the sections together again, lapping them and making them fast with the copper nails drawn from the useless parts, Abe hoped to make a serviceable craft, though crude.

“It may leak some,” he admitted, “but I’ll stuff the cracks up with ravelings from the sail cloth, and our clothes that we need least. Between us we can spare enough. Then I’ll make a mast for the sail, and we can leave this hulk and get somewhere. And Joe thought I was touched by the sun! Ho! Ho! A good joke! A good one!”

“All right,” assented Joe. “If you make that boat you’ll be a good one. I’ll help, of course, but I don’t believe it can be done.”

“I’ll show you!” exclaimed Abe defiantly.

Forthwith they began to work, even Mr. Skeel doing his share. He had settled into a gloomy silence, scarcely speaking unless spoken to, and he seemed to pay little attention to those about him. Clearly the shipwreck, and the unexpected meeting with the lad who had exposed his villainy at Elmwood Hall, had dispirited him. Yet at times he showed a flash of his old manners.

It was harder work than even Abe had imagined, to cut the boat in two, and get out the damaged part. Especially with only an axe to use. Yet the old sailor handled the implement with skill, and showed that he knew his business.

Tom looked after the meals, though he had not much to do, for the menu was not very varied. He had to keep Jackie amused, too, and invented such little games as fishing over the broken rail of the ship with a string for a line, and no hook, and making fairy castles out of the splinters that Abe knocked off the lifeboat.

Several days passed, and though they looked almost every other minute for a sail or a sight of land they saw nothing. They were borne on by the currents and the light winds that at times scarcely filled their clumsy sail.

The watches were kept as before, Tom not being allowed to share in them. But the darkness of the night was not relieved by any welcome light. The days seemed to become more dreary as they passed, and only for the work of making the boat they might not have stood the time so well. But the work was a blessing to them.

Tom looked anxiously at the store of food, and as he saw it diminishing, and no help of rescue at hand he spoke to the two sailors about it.

“Well, we’ll have to reduce rations, that’s all, matie,” said Joe, and he spoke cheerfully.

“Of course,” assented Abe. “I’ll have the boat done in a few more days, and then we can set sail. Reduce rations! If I only had a saw I could work faster, but I’ll do the best I can. Reduce rations, that’s all. I’m getting too fat as it is.”

He laughed at his joke, and a grim joke it was, for his belt had been taken in several holes, and could stand more. They were all becoming thin.

When the next meal, after the reduced ration decision had been arrived at, was served, Mr. Skeel looked at the portion handed him on the top of a beef tin.

“Is that all I get?” he demanded roughly. “That isn’t enough for a man.”

“It’s all that can safely be given,” spoke Tom, quietly.

“Well I want more. I demand my fair share.”

“That’s your fair share, mate,” said Joe grimly. “It’s as much as any of us have. We’re on short rations, don’t you understand?”

“Huh! That may be so, but I notice that you have charge of the food,” and he sneered at Tom.

“Because we voted him to do so,” put in Abe. “And what the majority says goes!”

“The boy has more than I have!” snarled the former professor, and he glanced at Jackie who, under a little tent he had made from a spare piece of the sail, was eating his lunch at a “play party,” as he called it.

“That’ll do you!” snapped Joe, shaking a menacing finger at Mr. Skeel. “You eat what you’ve got, and be thankful on your bended knees that you’ve got that much. And if I hear any more talk that the boy has more than you, why I’ll--”

“Easy matie,” cautioned Abe. “Easy.”

Tom looked distressed, but said nothing. When the water was passed, that too had dwindled in amount. Mr. Skeel looked at his share, and seemed about to make a protest, but a glance from Joe stopped him.

The weather had been fine for several days; too fine to last, Abe declared as he worked away at the boat.

“We’re in for another storm, I’m thinking,” he said to Joe.

“Well, keep still about it,” suggested his companion. “No use making Tom and the kid worry. I guess we can weather it.”

“The waves’ll sweep over this old hulk, once they get running high,” went on Abe. “And that deck house won’t stand much. The boat, too, is likely to be washed away. If I only had a saw I could make twice the speed. But I don’t reckon I could get one.”

“Leastways not unless there’s one aboard, down in the carpenter’s quarters,” said Joe, “and I don’t see how it’s to be come at. We’ll have to do the best we can.”

“I reckon so. Catch hold of that plank now, and hold it while I chop it off.”

They resumed work, pausing now and then to look at the sky. It clouded up in the afternoon, and there came a heavy rain storm, unaccompanied by much wind, for which last fact they were thankful.

“This is just what we need!” cried Abe, as he saw the big drops come down. “Spread out the sail cloth, mates, and catch all the water we can. We’ll need it.”

The sail was hastily taken down, and with another piece of the canvas was spread out in the form of a huge bowl. The rain filled it, and, making a sort of channel at one end, the precious water was run into the nearly empty kegs. Thus their supply was replenished, and with lighter hearts they resumed their task, the two sailors and Mr. Skeel working at the boat, while Tom steered.

It was about a week since they had taken refuge on the derelict, and the signs of an approaching change in the weather were increasing. In all that time they had not seen a sail, and what was more remarkable, they had not sighted an island, though they were in that part of the Pacific where many are located.

“Either we are passing in and out among them, just far enough away so as to miss ’em, or we can’t pick ’em out on account of the mist,” explained Joe. “I was sure we’d sight one before this.”

“Same here,” murmured Abe. “It’s middling queer, though. But if our grub holds out we’ll soon be afloat in a better craft.”

“It doesn’t look like it,” declared Joe. “You’ve get a lot of work on it yet.”

“I know I have, and if only there was a saw I’d make double speed.”

Joe did not answer but walked forward to where the hatchway, opening down into the lower regions of the ship, showed. It was more out of water than at any previous time, and it could be seen that there was a passage leading into the crew’s quarters. Joe stood contemplating this, and then slowly began taking off his shoes, and some of his garments.

“Hi! matie, what are you up to?” hailed Abe, seeing his actions. “Going for a swim? If you are you’d better look out for sharks. I see some big fins in the offing this morning.”

“No, I’m not going to swim--I’m going to have a dive.”

“A dive?”

“Yes. I’m going down and see if I can’t fetch up a saw, or something so you can finish that boat quicker.”

Abe dropped the axe and hurried toward his companion.

“Say, don’t you do it,” he gasped. “You might not be able to get up again, and we can’t afford to lose you.”

“No danger! If I get _into_ a place, Abe, I can get _out_ again. I’m going to dive and get you a saw.”

“Don’t do it!” urged the other. “I can make out some how.”

“Here goes!” cried Joe, and with that he walked down the half-submerged companion steps and dived into the water-filled forecastle quarters.