Tom Fairfield at Sea: or, The Wreck of the Silver Star

Tom said nothing. He sat in the bow, gloomily looking off across the waste of waters. He thought of many things.

It grew lighter. Another day of heat was coming – a day when there would be no water to relieve them. How many days more?

Higher crept the sun out of the waves. Tom rubbed his smarting eyes. He looked, and then he looked again. Then, scarcely believing what he saw, and fearing that it was but a vision of his disordered brain he shouted, over and over again:

“Sail ho! Sail ho!”

CHAPTER XXII

NEWS OF THE MISSING

Tom’s cry echoed over the water and startled those aboard the boat into sudden life. Gaspingly Joe and Abe sat up. Mr. Skeel was galvanized into sudden activity, awakening from a troubled dream. Little Jackie jumped up with a start.

“What – what is it, Tom?” cried Joe.

“Have we struck something?” exclaimed Abe.

“It’s a sail – a sail!” fairly shouted our hero. “See that vessel over there! It’s bearing down on us! A big sailing ship!”

The two sailors and the former professor gazed off to where Tom pointed. There was no doubt of it, they were gazing at a full-rigged ship.

“I saw her as soon as I opened my eyes!” Tom explained. “I was dozing, I guess. At first I couldn’t believe it. But it’s a ship all right, isn’t it?”

He was half afraid that the others would say he was only dreaming. Anxiously he awaited their verdict.

“It’s a ship all right,” agreed Abe.

“And coming this way,” added Tom.

“No, I’m afraid she’s leaving us,” put in Joe, a moment later.

“Don’t say that!” cried Mr. Skeel. “I – I can’t stand any more!” He was fairly quivering with fear.

“It does look as though she was going away from us,” agreed Abe gloomily. “Still, she may come around on the other tack, and see us.”

“Then we must make signals!” cried Tom. “They’ve got to see us! Yell! Shout! Make ’em hear us!”

“It’d have to be a pretty good voice that could carry that far,” spoke Joe weakly. “Still, she sees us. She’s about three miles off. Wave everything you’ve got!”

At once Tom caught up a piece of canvas. Every one, save Jackie, did the same, and soon there was a wildly-waving mass of rags to be observed on board the lifeboat.

“If she only sees us!” gasped Tom. “If she only does!”

Hope awoke anew, and Tom found himself fired with an ambition to do anything that would put him in a position to rescue his father and mother.

“Is – is she turning? Can she see us?” asked Mr. Skeel anxiously, pausing in his exertions.

“It’s too soon to tell – yet,” answered Joe. “Keep on waving.”

They had almost forgotten the professor’s mean and sneaking ways now, in the excitement over a possible rescue. Anxiously they watched the small speck that meant a vessel. Oh how anxiously! Would some one on board see them? Would she put about?

“Can’t you head for her any more directly?” asked Mr. Skeel after a bit. “It seems to me that you’re not heading any where near her.”

“I’m doing the best I can,” declared Abe, who was at the helm. “I can’t make the wind do what I want it to. It all depends on the other ship.”

They waved by turns, and again peered anxiously at the craft on which so much depended. She seemed to grow in size, at times, and again, to their despairing hearts, she appeared to become smaller, showing that she was leaving them.

But at last Joe sprang to his feet with a shout of joy.

“She sees us! She sees us!” he cried. “Look, they are putting about! They’re going to pick us up! We’re saved! We’re saved!”

“Are you sure?” asked Tom, not wanting to have his hopes raised, only to lose them again.

“Of course! Can’t you see by the way her sails are trimmed?”

“Right you are!” agreed Abe. “She’s going to pick us up. She’s seen us!”

This was more apparent to the eyes of the two sailors than to Tom or Mr. Skeel, but they gladly accepted the news. In a little while it was evident, even to Tom, that the vessel he had sighted so opportunely was indeed growing in size, showing that she was coming nearer.

“Water! Water!” gasped Mr. Skeel sinking down in the bottom of the boat. “I’m going to faint!”

Indeed he did look to be in a bad way, and, though the others wanted and needed the precious fluid almost as much as he did, some was given him. Though, as Abe remarked, the professor had had more than his fair share. Still it was not a time to grumble, and, after Mr. Skeel had been revived, the rest of the water was apportioned out among the others. And they needed it very much, for their tongues were swelled more than ever.

“But we’ll soon have all we want,” declared Joe, with a laugh that sounded queer and cracked, coming from between his swollen lips. “Enough water – all we want!”

“And food, too, food!” added Abe. “I’m as hungry – as hungry – ” but a simile failed him, and he sat down weakly to stare at the approaching vessel.

There was nothing more to do save to wait for the arrival of the ship, which soon was seen to be a large sailing craft. Nearer and nearer she came, with the big sails bulging out with the wind. Those aboard the lifeboat steered as best they could to make the distance between her and the rescuing vessel as short as possible, but their small sail did not catch much of the breeze.

Nearer and nearer came the ship. A crowd of sailors could now be made out on her deck, lining the rail to find out the meaning of the strange sight of a small open boat on the trackless ocean.

“Lifeboat ahoy!” came the hail when the big ship was near enough. “Are you in distress? Do you need help?”

“We sure do!” cried Tom. “We’ve been shipwrecked, and on a derelict. Take us off. We have no food or water.”

“What ship are you from?”

“Silver Star out from San Francisco for Sydney. Wrecked by a derelict about two weeks ago,” answered Tom. “Who are you?”

“The Alexandria, from Melbourne, bound for Honolulu. We’ll have you on board shortly. Do you want your boat saved?”

Thus answered the first mate of the rescuing vessel. Tom looked at his sailor companions, and they shook their heads. The lifeboat, patched as it was, could be of little real service or value, and to hoist it aboard would delay matters.

“We don’t need it,” sang out Abe. “It was hard enough to rebuild, but it’s served its turn. Take us aboard without it.”

“All right,” came the hail, and a little later Tom and his companions, so strangely wrecked and rescued at sea, were on the big deck of the Alexandria.

She proved to be a large merchant ship, carrying no passengers, and the crew crowded around the refugees to hear their story.

“Water first – water,” pleaded Mr. Skeel, who, now that he was safe, seemed to resume some of his former arrogant airs. “I must have a fresh drink of water.”

“And I guess this little chap needs some as well as you,” spoke the mate, with a shrewd guess as to the true character of the former Latin instructor. “Come below and we’ll look after all of you.”

A little later, water and warm soup having been cautiously administered, Tom was telling the story of the shipwreck.

“Do you think it possible that any of the passengers or crew of the Silver Star were saved?” he asked.

“Quite possible, though we haven’t heard of it,” answered Captain Buchanan of the Alexandria. “If they got away in a lifeboat it’s very likely that they were picked up. They were in the zone of ship travel, according to what you tell me, but you and the others drifted out of it on the derelict, and you’ve been out of it ever since. It’s lucky you put the small boat into use or you might have been there yet. And now what do you want me to do with you?”

“I’d like to go on to Honolulu,” said Mr. Skeel, as if he was the first one to be considered. “I have business there.”

“I’m going that way, and I’ll stop and put you off,” answered Captain Buchanan dryly. “What of the rest of you?”

“Any place suits me, where we can get a ship,” spoke Abe, and Joe nodded in agreement.

“What about you, Tom Fairfield?”

“Well, I’d like to go to Sydney, if it’s possible. If not, I can go to Honolulu, and take a ship there to continue the search for my father and mother.”

“Your father and mother!” exclaimed the captain. “Are they lost, too?” for our hero had not told of his reasons for being aboard the Silver Star.

“They were wrecked on the Kangaroo, or so I believe,” replied Tom, and he showed the newspaper clippings that had been the means of starting him on such a long and adventurous quest.

“The Kangaroo!” exclaimed the mate. “That’s the vessel we heard – ”

“Yes, yes!” assented the captain eagerly.

“Oh, have you heard any news of her?” asked Tom eagerly. “Were any of her passengers saved? Tell me!”

“It’s almost providential!” exclaimed Captain Buchanan, “but a few days ago we did speak a vessel that had some news of the missing ship – the one your parents sailed on. It seems that she picked up a boat load of sailors some distance out to sea. They were from the Kangaroo. That was some time ago, you understand, for we have been from port some time, held back by contrary winds. But this ship, the Belgrade she was, had some of the rescued sailors.”

“And – and were they the only ones saved?” asked Tom.

“I can’t be sure of that,” answered the captain, “but from the captain of the Belgrade I learned that another boat load of other survivors of the Kangaroo set out for some island near Tongatabu, in the Friendly group. They may have reached it. They may be there yet.”

“Were there passengers among them?” asked Tom, his heart beating with a new hope.

“There were, my boy, though I can’t tell you to hope that your parents were there. Still it may be that they were.”

“I’m going to hope!” cried our hero eagerly. “Now how can I get to Sydney, or some Australian port, and set out for that island?”

“I’ll speak the first Australian bound ship we meet,” promised Captain Buchanan, “and put you aboard. Oh, boy, I hope you find your folks!” and he shook Tom’s hand.

CHAPTER XXIII

OFF TO THE ISLAND

Once the excitement over the rescue of himself and his companions was over, Tom settled down to another task. And it was that of looking for a ship bound back to Australia, that he might once more set out in search of his parents.

“And I sure do hope there won’t be any more accidents,” Tom mused. “I’ve had my share of ’em this trip, that’s certain.”

The hardships and the privations suffered while on the derelict and in the open boat soon passed away, and the refugees were made to feel at home on the Alexandria. Little Jackie soon became a general favorite, and Tom made many friends.

As for the two sailors, they were soon at home among the members of the crew, and, as Captain Buchanan was short-handed, he signed them as first class men, so they were well provided for.

Mr. Skeel kept much to himself. He seemed in fear that his conduct aboard the boat and derelict would be told to those on board the rescue ship, but Tom and his friends had no idea of exposing the scoundrel, as it would have done no good. So Mr. Skeel kept to himself, glad enough to be let alone.

“I suppose there is no telling when you will sight a ship bound in the direction I was to travel in, is there?” asked Tom, a few days after the rescue.

“Hardly,” replied the captain. “I have instructed the lookout to report the first vessel bound for Australia, though, and we may speak one any day. If she cannot take you all the way there she may be able to transfer you to one that will.”

“My!” exclaimed our hero. “I certainly will have my share of travel on the sea! But I sha’n’t mind, if I can only rescue dad and mother.”

“And I certainly wish you all success,” spoke Captain Buchanan. “What are your plans when you do reach Sydney or Melbourne, if I may ask?”

“I’m going to charter a steamer and sail for that island near Tongatabu,” replied Tom.

“Charter a steamer!” exclaimed the captain. “That will be pretty expensive.”

“Well, I have considerable cash with me,” answered our hero, showing the money belt which had successfully resisted the efforts of Mr. Skeel to take away. “And my father’s agent in Sydney will supply me with more, I think.”

“Then you will be well provided for,” commented the commander. “You can do almost anything – up to a certain point – with money, and it’s good you have enough. I can give you a note to a friend of mine in Melbourne who can fit you out with a proper vessel for such need as you have. He is also an experienced navigator, and if you like I’m sure he would sail to this island for you. Of course I can’t just say what one it was, for there are several in the group near the large one of Tongatabu, and you may have to make a search.”

“I’ll do it!” cried Tom, “and I’ll be much obliged to you for that note. I’ll engage your friend if he’ll come.”

Tom and the captain talked for some time longer, and our hero was given many valuable pointers about what to do. So interested did he become, and so occupied was he in looking for a vessel to take him back to Australia that he had no time to worry about his parents. Not that he did not think of them, but his thoughts were hopeful ones.

“I’ll rescue them!” he declared determinedly. “And, oh! if I could only pick up some of those from the Silver Star who may still be adrift in open boats. And Jackie’s father! If I could only find him!”

But Tom felt that this was too much to hope. Several days passed, and no Australian bound vessel was seen. Tom began to be a bit discouraged, but one morning there was a cry on deck when he was at breakfast. He hurried up to find that the lookout had sighted a large steamer approaching them.

“Oh, if it’s only going to Australia!” cried Tom.

It was, as he learned a little later when the steamer hove to in answer to a signal from the Alexandria. A small boat was sent from the sailing ship to the steamer, and Captain Buchanan requested the courtesy of transferring one of his passengers to the Monarch, which was the name of the steamer spoken.

The word came back that Tom would be accepted.

“Good!” he cried. “I’m sorry to leave you, Captain Buchanan, but I must rescue dad and mother!”

“That’s right. Good luck to you!”

“What about Jackie?” asked Abe, who, with his mate, had come on deck to bid Tom good-by.

“He comes with me, of course,” was our hero’s answer. “I’m going to turn him over to his relatives,” he added. “Mr. Case said he had a sister in Melbourne.”

“I’m going to my daddy!” Jackie proudly informed the friends he was leaving behind on the Alexandria. “Tom is going to take me to my daddy!”

“I only wish I was,” murmured Tom with tears in his eyes.

He and his little charge were soon on the Australian bound vessel, and the Monarch getting under way again was once more steaming toward the land of the kangaroo and rabbit.

In due time Tom landed at Melbourne, and his first duty was to take little Jackie to his relatives. That they were shocked was to be expected, over the news of the shipwreck, of which they had heard nothing, though they were beginning to be alarmed over the fact that the Silver Star had not arrived, and had not been spoken.

Their grief and sorrow were concealed from Jackie as well as possible, and he bade Tom a tearful good-by, convinced that our hero was going to bring matters about so that everything would be all right.

Then Tom sought out Captain Mosher, to whom he had a letter of introduction.

“Humph!” exclaimed the seaman, when Tom had made known his mission, and his desire to set out in search of his parents. “It’s a slim chance, boy, and it’s going to cost – ”

“Never mind the cost!” cried Tom.

“All right, then. You’re the doctor. If you want me to fit out a small steamer and go to some of the islands around Tongatabu I’m your man. Only – don’t hope too much!”

“I’ve got to hope!” cried poor Tom. “I’m going to hope until the – the last!”

“Well, maybe you’re right after all,” assented Captain Mosher. “Now to business, ways and means, a steamer, a crew, fitting out and then – well, I’ve got to get busy.”

He did, to such good advantage that inside of a week all was in readiness for the start. Tom had communicated with his father’s agent in Sydney, and, as our hero had papers to prove his identity, there was no lack of money from the inheritance Mr. Fairfield had come so far to claim.

A steamer, the Sea Queen, was fitted out; a small but competent crew was hired, stores and provisions for a month’s cruise were put aboard, and one sunny day Tom took his place with the captain on the bridge.

“Well, Tom, shall we start?” asked Captain Mosher, a kindly light in his eye, for he had taken a great liking to our hero.

“Start, and go at full speed as long as you can,” came Tom’s order. “I want to get to that island as soon as possible, and find dad and mother.”

The hoarse whistle of the Sea Queen warned other craft that she was about to leave her berth. A little later her funnels belched black smoke, and from her pipe the white steam spurted. She was off for the island.

CHAPTER XXIV

THE CASTAWAYS

Quite a new experience it was for Tom to be in command of a steamer, even though it was a comparatively small craft. And he was in actual command, for, though Captain Mosher was the navigator, and had all the powers captains usually have on the high seas, still Tom was the master, and his orders would be obeyed.

“If only dad and mother were here with me, or if I knew they were safe, and I had a crowd of fellows from Elmwood Hall here,” Tom reflected, “this would be sport. But as it is there’s too much worry in it to suit me.”

Not that he shirked his duty in the least, but it was a big responsibility for a youth, and none knew it better than Captain Mosher.

“That boy has grit!” the commander exclaimed to his mate. “There ain’t many lads like him who would start off as he did on such a slim chance to find his parents. And, after being shipwrecked, he starts off again.”

“Oh, ’e’s H’American!” exclaimed the mate, who was quite a Cockney in his way. “’E’s H’American, and H’Americans will do hanythink, so I’ve ’eard, sir.”

“Maybe they will. The more credit to ’em.”

“But H’I say, Captain, sir, ’ave you told ’im?”

“Told him what?”

“About them cannibals an’ other unpleasant creatures that may be on the h’islands where we’re goin’?”

“No, I haven’t told him, but I’m going to. It’s only fair that he should know about ’em. I think he’s got grit enough to take it.”

And so, after the vessel was well under way, and the captain had leisure, he sent for Tom, who was in the stateroom that had been assigned to him, next to the captain’s own quarters.

“Tom, my boy!” exclaimed Mr. Mosher, after a few generalities, “it’s only fair to tell you that we may have a hard task ahead of us.”

“How so, captain?”

“Well, some of the islands around Tongatabu are inhabited by natives that are not always friendly.”

“You mean – ” and our hero paused apprehensively.

“I mean that – well, at worst, I think, they can but hold your folks captive, in case the survivors from the shipwreck landed on one of the unfriendly islands.”

“Hold them captives?”

“Yes. You see these natives are peculiar. They get streaks, I might say. If a large enough party of whites landed they would be friendly, and would treat them well. But if only a few were cast on their shores they might be ugly, and make them prisoners for the sake of what few possessions they might save from the wreck.”

“And you think my parents may have landed on such an island?”

“It’s possible. I only tell you to prepare you for the worst.”

Tom was silent a moment, and then he said quietly:

“We brought arms along, didn’t we, captain?”

“Yes, Tom, but – ”

“Then we’ll use ’em – if we have to!” exclaimed the lad, with an energy that caused the captain to like him the more. “If any cannibals or other natives are holding my folks captive we’ll go to the rescue.”

“And I’m with you!” cried the commander, holding out his hand, which Tom took in a firm grip.

The Sea Queen was a fast little steamer and, favored by good weather, she made excellent time. In due course the island of Tongatabu was sighted and one night the vessel Tom had chartered to search for his parents lay at anchor in the harbor. There was not much of a settlement on the island in those days, but such as it was there was news to be had, of a sort, though not the kind Tom wanted.

For he could learn nothing of his parents. There were rumors of wrecks, and of castaways coming ashore, but none from the Kangaroo.

In fact a crew from another wrecked sailing ship had come ashore to Tongatabu, but they knew nothing of the casting away of the ship on which Mr. and Mrs. Fairfield had sailed.

“You might do one thing,” said a friendly Englishman who had some business interests on the island. “I understand there are some natives here from surrounding islands. You might ask them if they have heard of any white castaways coming ashore at any of the places where they live.”

Tom and Captain Mosher welcomed the suggestion and followed it. They found the natives – rather a shiftless lot – and questioned them through an interpreter. But to no purpose.

The simple black men told stories of wrecks that had happened ten years back, and related how the castaways from them had come ashore, either to remain there in an idle existence, or to take the first steamer back for civilization. There were more rumors, but nothing definite.

“The only thing to do,” decided Captain Mosher, “is to visit all the islands in the immediate vicinity of Tongatabu. In that way we’ll get first hand information.”

“And we may find them!” cried Tom eagerly. “Let’s start off again!”

This was about the third day of their stay at Tongatabu and that night they hoisted anchor, and steamed out of the harbor.

Then began a wearying search. No spot of land was too small to deter Tom, and at every large island he spent some days, hiring natives to make a circuit of it, and interviewing, through interpreters, the chief men.

But all to no purpose. There had been no wrecks in some time, and no castaways had come ashore. Tom was beginning to get discouraged.

“Oh, there are lots more islands,” Captain Mosher assured him. “We’ll find ’em yet!”

“H’if the bloody cannibals ain’t het ’em!” said the mate.

“Keep still!” commanded the captain, emphasizing his words with a dig in the ribs that made his chief officer grunt.

They came one night to the small island of Tahatoo, hardly more than a dot in the big ocean. But there was a good harbor, in a coral lagoon, and, as there were signs of a storm, Captain Mosher decided to lay to there over night.

“And while we’re here we may as well go ashore and see if there is any news,” spoke Tom. His voice was despondent, for the search had been wearying and disappointing.

“White mans? No hab white mans and womans here,” said the head native in his broken English, when Tom and the captain put the question to him. “No hab wrecks here. If had, Walla he be kind to um. Kind to white mans and womans. Me is Walla. Walla bery kind. When you sail away, captain?”

“Why do you want to know?” inquired the commander of the Sea Queen, suspiciously, for usually the natives were only too glad to have a steamer spend some days at one of their islands.

“Oh, me just ask for friendly like. When you go?”

“In the morning, if the weather’s good,” was the answer.

“Walla t’ink wedder good,” said the native grinning. “You go mornin’.”

“Tom, there’s something wrong here!” said the commander a little later, as he and our hero walked down toward the beach. “That native is altogether too anxious to get rid of us.”

“Why – do you think – ” began Tom, his heart beating fast.

“I don’t know what to think, my boy, but – ”

“Do you imagine dad and mother – may have been here?”

“I don’t know, but I think that Walla knows something. I think we’ll just stroll around a bit, and we don’t leave to-morrow, no matter what the weather is.”

Their minds filled with strange thoughts, the two strolled back toward the native village. The hut where Walla, the head man lived, was easily distinguished by its size. Around it were other places where the poorer natives stayed.