Chapter XVII: A Hand in the Night

“Thanks, Abe,” gasped Tom, when he could speak, for the fright and fear of again being flung into the ocean had taken his breath.

“That’s nothing, lad,” came the calm answer. “Are you all right?”

“Yes. But this is a terrible storm, isn’t it?”

“It might be worse. It was worse when the _Silver Star_ foundered. We’ll weather it, I hope.”

A cry came from the interior of the shelter. It was Jackie.

“Tom! Tom! Where are you?” he called.

“Coming!” answered Tom, and he staggered into the place where his little charge was lying.

Tom, groping about in the dark, found Jackie. The little fellow had rolled from the hollow in the pile of sail cloth that made his bed.

“All right, Jackie, it’s all right,” spoke Tom soothingly. “We’re riding on top of the waves like a merry-go-’round. Go to sleep now.”

And, so tired was the little fellow, and such was his confidence in Tom, that he did slumber again.

The storm grew worse, and at times the spray from the big waves flew over the top of the wooden shelter, and dripped down inside. The wind blew aside the canvas that closed the front and threatened to lift, bodily, the structure itself.

But the sailors had done their work well. The rope lashings held, though they were strained to their limit. The lifeboat, moored as it was to the deck, tried in vain to break loose to join with the waves in their revelry of the storm. Joe and Abe looked to it, testing every knot, however, and their seamanship told. For the present they could defy the storm.

Mr. Skeel fairly whimpered when he saw the big seas all about them, but no one paid any attention to him and he had to make out as best he could. He tried to shirk his trick at the helm, but Abe, taking hold of his arm, marched him to the rude steering apparatus, and bade him hold to it for his life.

“But I--I may be washed overboard,” objected the former professor.

“You’re in less danger here than any of us,” declared the sailor. “You stay here until your time is up,” and Mr. Skeel dared not disobey. His spirit had been broken when Tom, and his chums of Elmwood Hall, had successfully gone on their strike.

How they got through that night the castaways hardly knew afterward. Several times it seemed as if the wind would carry away either the structure they had built on deck, or the lifeboat that had been reconstructed with such labor. But the two sailors, with Tom to help them, made lashing after lashing, as one or another tore away and so they held to that which they needed most.

Little Jackie proved himself a hero, for when Tom had explained that he must stay alone part of the time, the little fellow obeyed, though he had hard work to choke back the sobs when his companion was out on deck, doing what he could to keep the boat from being carried away.

When the storm had been raging for an hour or more there was a sudden tilt to the derelict, and a grinding crashing sound somewhere in her depths.

“What’s that?” cried Tom in alarm.

“Her cargo is shifting!” shouted Abe, above the roar of the storm. “I hope it doesn’t shift too much.”

Almost immediately afterward there seemed to be less spray coming aft.

“She’s risen by the head!” cried Joe, who managed to make an observation at great risk to himself. “The lumber below decks has shifted aft and her bow is higher out of water. That makes it good for us. We’ll be drier now.”

And this was so. With the bow higher out of the water the craft presented a better front to the breaking seas, and what at first seemed a calamity turned out to be a great blessing.

The remainder of the night, though the storm did not abate, was not such a source of worry to the refugees. True, the wind was as violent, and it even shifted their shelter from where it was lashed on deck, but the waves did not bring so much discomfort, for the higher bow sent them hissing away on either side.

Somehow morning broke, and in the gray dawn they looked about on a storm-tossed waste of waters. Now they would be down in a hollow of the waves, and again high on some crest, at which latter time they looked anxiously for a sail. But they saw none.

It was just a little after day had broken that the improvised mast gave way with a snap, and would have gone overboard with their precious sail, had not Abe and Joe made a hasty grab, saving it.

“We need that in our boat--if it ever gets calm enough to calk it,” declared Abe.

“What about breakfast?” asked Tom a little later. “I guess we can all eat.”

“Right you are, my hearty!” cried Joe. Even the terrible storm could not dampen the spirits of the sailors. Little Jackie was happier too, now that daylight had come, and only Mr. Skeel seemed moody and depressed. He looked at his companions without speaking.

The storm seemed to have spent its fury in the night, for, as the day grew, the wind lessened and the waves went down. The mast was mended and set up again, but a reefed sail had to be used, for the gale was too strong to risk another accident with the frail gear they had.

“It may blow us to some island, and then we won’t have to use the boat,” said Joe.

“Oh, don’t talk that way,” begged Abe.

“Why not? Don’t you want to be rescued?”

“Yes, but I’d like a chance to use the boat I’ve made,” was the rejoinder. “Come on, now, we’ll try and calk it.”

They started this work after a meager breakfast, during which Mr. Skeel looked hungrily at the rations passed around. Even less was given than before, for the provisions were getting alarmingly low, though there was still plenty of water, for which they were thankful.

It was no easy task to calk the boat, with such tools and material as Abe and Joe had, but it was a credit to their seamanship that they made a good job of it. They tested it by pouring water into the craft as it was lashed to the deck.

“She doesn’t leak much!” exclaimed Abe in delight as he watched a few drops trickle out. “When she swells up she’ll be all right, and we can bail if we have to. Now for a sail.”

He and his companion rigged up a mast, and the sail was taken down from the derelict and fitted to it. This took another day, during which the storm’s traces vanished, and the weather became once more calm.

“We’ll launch her to-morrow,” decided Abe that night. “I guess she’s all right.”

“Will it be hard to put her into the sea?” asked Tom.

“Easy enough, the way the derelict is listed now,” was the answer. “All we’ll have to do will be to get into her, cut the retaining rope, and let her slide. Then we’ll be off.”

Tom heard some one behind him as the sailor told him this, and he turned to see Mr. Skeel regarding him curiously. There was a strange look on the former professor’s face.

They went to rest that night filled with thoughts of the prospects before them on the morrow. It seemed, after all, as if they might be saved, for both Joe and Abe declared that they must be near some island, and a day’s sail would bring them to it, if they could sail fast enough.

Tom stretched out beside little Jackie that night with a thankful heart.

“I’ll find dad and mother yet!” he whispered to himself.

Mr. Skeel was slumbering on the other side of the shelter, at least if heavy breathing went for anything he was. Abe and Joe were out on deck, putting the spare provisions and water into the lifeboat, for they had decided to leave as soon as possible in the morning.

Tom fell into a doze. How long he slept he hardly knew, but he was suddenly awakened by feeling a hand cautiously moving over his body. It was on his chest first, and then it went lower until the fingers touched the money belt he had worn since the loss of the _Silver Star_.

“Who’s that? Is that you, Jackie?” asked Tom, and his hand went quickly over to the head of his little charge. Jackie was sleeping quietly.

“Who was that?” asked Tom.

There was no answer. It was too dark to see, and he could strike no light. Someone moved across the floor of the shelter.

“Abe! Joe!” called Tom cautiously. Then he added: “Mr. Skeel!”

A snore answered him from the former professor’s sleeping place. Tom stole cautiously to the opening of the shelter. He could hear the two sailors talking together at the helm.