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

CHAPTER XVIII
TREACHERY

For a moment Tom did not know what to do, or what to think. He was convinced that an attempt had been made to rob him in the darkness of the night, and he wanted to know who was responsible. Yet he did not want to accuse or even think of any one as guilty, unless he had good proof.

“It couldn’t have been Abe or Joe,” he reasoned. “I could have heard them if they had left the shelter after I called out. It must have been Mr. Skeel. And yet – ”

He paused, and listened once more to the steady breathing of the man who had once been, and who doubtless still was, his enemy.

“Could it have been he?” thought Tom. “It was certainly some one here in the shelter with me, and there aren’t many to pick from.”

He reflected that it might have been possible for little Jackie, moving in his sleep, to have tossed toward him, and gotten his hand near the money belt. And yet the hand had felt heavier than that of the child.

“Well,” mused Tom, “it won’t do to make a mistake. I’ve got to keep quiet and see what turns up. Only I know one thing – I’m not going to sleep much the rest of the night.”

He paused in the doorway, and was about to turn back to lie down beside Jackie, when Abe, who was talking with Joe near the helm, spied our hero.

“Hello, Tom,” the sailor called in a low voice. “Anything the matter the reason you’re up? Is Jackie sick?”

“No, he’s all right,” replied Tom in a low voice, but loud enough so that Professor Skeel, if he was awake, could hear it; “Jackie is all right. I thought one of you came in the shelter to see me.”

“One of us!” exclaimed Abe.

“Yes,” answered Tom.

“We weren’t there,” went on Abe. “We’ve been standing here for the last half hour, talking about what we might do to-morrow – after we get the boat launched. We weren’t near you.”

“Guess you must have dreamed it, Tom,” suggested Joe.

“Perhaps,” admitted Tom, and yet he knew that it was no dream. “I’ll go back to bed,” he called.

The derelict drifted on, and Tom was not again disturbed that night. Jackie slept well, and so too did Professor Skeel – to judge by his snores.

“Well, now for a launching!” exclaimed Joe as the dawning light filtered through the early morning clouds. “We’ll see what luck we have.”

There was not much to do in the way of preparation, for the two sailors had very nearly finished the work on the previous day. The food and water – all that could be spared from the needs of the few remaining meals they expected to take aboard the hulk – had been put into the reconstructed lifeboat. An early and small breakfast was served, and then the work of sliding the craft off the derelict was undertaken.

As the sailor had said, this was not difficult. The deck of the lumber ship, on which the lifeboat rested, had such a slope that all that was necessary to do was to cut loose a retaining rope, and the craft would slide down on improvised rollers that had been made. This could be done when they were all aboard. It was like the launching of a small ship.

“But I think I’ll give her a trial first,” decided Abe, when all was in readiness for the launching. “I don’t want her to turn turtle, or anything like that, when we’re all aboard. Though she can’t sink, with the watertight compartments.”

“What’s your game?” asked Joe.

“Why, I think I’ll take a trip in her myself just around the hulk, so to speak, and see how she behaves. She may need trimming, or lightening, or, maybe we haven’t got the sail just right. I’ll make a trial in her.”

The others decided that this might be wise, and accordingly, when Abe had taken his place in the craft, the rope was slacked off, and the lifeboat slid into the sea.

“Hurray!” cried Tom, as the craft took the waves. “She’s a success all right.”

“Not so fast! Hold on a bit!” cried Abe. “She’s leaking like a sieve in one place!”

“Leaking!” cried his shipmate.

“Yes. One place where I must have forgotten to do the calking good enough. Haul me back, and we’ll get her out of water again, and patch her up.”

Under Abe’s directions Tom, Joe and Professor Skeel pulled on the rope that was still fastened to the craft and she was worked back on the deck of the derelict. Then Abe, making a careful examination, began the work of calking up the cracks where the water had poured in.

The work took him longer than he had supposed it would, for he found out that he had to change his ideas when it came to making a reconstructed boat water-tight. He was most of the day at the task, and when he had finished he thought of something else.

“We need oars,” he said. “We can’t always depend on the wind, and if we get becalmed out on the ocean, with no shelter, such as we have here, we’ll be in a bad way if we can’t make some headway. So I will just make a pair of sweeps.”

Which he did out of some of the lighter planks that formed part of the cargo of the derelict. Thole pins were cut out to serve as oarlocks, for there were none on the made-over boat, and thus equipped the lifeboat could be rowed, though not very fast.

“Now I reckon she’s likely to be of more use,” declared Abe, when he had finished his task.

“But it’s too late to start to-day,” declared Joe.

“Yes, we’ll wait until to-morrow,” was the other’s decision. The boat was left in the same position it had been in before, and they settled down to pass another night on the derelict, waiting anxiously for the morning.

It was just getting dusk, and they were thinking of turning in, when Jackie, who had crawled upon the roof of the wooden shelter, called out:

“Oh, Tom! Look! See the smoke! Somebody must be starting a fire to cook supper!”

He pointed almost dead ahead, and, at the sight of a line of smoke on the horizon Joe cried:

“It’s a ship! A steamer! The first one we’ve seen! Oh, if we could only make her hear or see us!”

It was utterly out of the question to make themselves heard by shouting, but Tom, who was at the helm, swung it around until the derelict was headed as nearly as possible toward the telltale vapor.

“Wave something!” cried Abe. “Get up on the top of the shelter and wave something! They may have a man stationed up in the crow’s-nest on the lookout, and he might see us. Wave something!”

Mr. Skeel caught up a piece of the sailcloth, and, scrambling to the peak of the shelter waved the signal frantically. He kept this up for an hour, in which time the smoke gradually got below the horizon, showing that the steamer was moving away from the shipwrecked ones.

“No use,” said Tom sadly. “We’ve got to depend on ourselves.”

“And maybe it’s better so,” agreed Abe. “That steamer might be going to some place we wouldn’t want to touch at all.”

“Any place would be acceptable,” spoke Mr. Skeel, bitterly. “Oh! when will we be rescued? When will I ever get a good meal again?”

“No telling,” answered Abe grimly. “But if we have luck we ought to fetch some place by to-morrow. That steamer shows that we’re near the lines of travel, and we’ll hit on an island soon.”

Disappointed, but not discouraged over their failure to attract attention, the refugees prepared to spend another night aboard the derelict. Little Jackie was quite fussy, calling for his father several times, and it was all Tom could do to pacify him and keep him interested in “make-believe” plays.

Tom was a bit nervous about going to sleep, for he feared another attempt might be made to rob him. He had narrowly watched the two sailors and Mr. Skeel during the day, and he had decided that neither Abe nor Joe was guilty of the attempt to get the money belt.

“It must have been Skeel,” decided Tom, “though what he was going to do with it after he got it is more than I can say. He couldn’t have gone far with it, and I’d have missed it as soon as I awakened.”

He took a position this time so that any one coming toward him in the night would have to step or crawl over Jackie first, and thus, in a measure, the small boy would be an alarm clock.

“But I don’t believe anyone will dare try it again to-night,” mused Tom. He had narrowly watched his companions during the day, and he mentally decided that Mr. Skeel had a guilty air, though, for that matter, he seldom looked Tom, or anyone else squarely in the face.

Again it was near midnight when Tom awakened. And this time it was not because of anyone trying to rob him. He heard some one moving about on deck, and, cautiously peering out of the opening of the shelter, he saw a sight that startled him.

It was just light enough, because of the stars, to make out objects, and Tom beheld the form of Mr. Skeel at the lifeboat.

The former professor was fumbling with the retaining ropes, as if he intended to let the craft slide into the water. But Tom noticed that the man was in such a position that he could leap aboard the lifeboat as it slid away from the derelict.

“He’s trying to escape!” thought Tom. “He’s going to take our boat and leave us behind on the wreck. There’s treachery here! He’s trying to get away while we’re asleep – during his trick at the helm. Well here’s where I spoil his plans!”

CHAPTER XIX
OFF IN THE BOAT

Determined to foil the scheme of the unprincipled man, Tom stole softly forward, himself unobserved. He thought over several plans in his mind, and decided that he must catch Mr. Skeel red-handed.

“I’ll wait until he actually begins to move the boat,” murmured our hero, “and then I’ll call a halt. Besides I want to be sure that this is actually his game. If I jump out too soon he may say that he was only tightening the ropes, or that the lifeboat started to slip, and that he stopped it. He’s foxy, and I must be the same.”

So Tom watched, and the more he saw of the former professor’s actions the more he became convinced that treachery was intended.

“He tried to rob me, and get the money in my belt,” thought Tom, “and he was intending to escape then. That’s why he wanted the funds. Now he’s going without them – that is if I let him – which I won’t.”

The man was working swiftly and silently, pausing now and then to look over toward the shelter where he supposed all his companions were asleep. He had deserted the helm to carry out his treacherous design. Not that leaving the rude steering apparatus meant much, for there was very little wind just then, and the derelict was merely drifting.

Tom had crouched down so that he could not be seen, the lifeboat on the sloping deck of the wreck being between him and the professor. The latter was working away at the ropes. One after another he cast off. There was a slight movement to the lifeboat. It seemed about to slip into the sea.

“It’s time to act!” thought Tom.

He straightened up, took a step forward and fairly confronted the man, standing up to face him across the lifeboat.

“That’ll do, Mr. Skeel,” said Tom quietly. “I wouldn’t take that boat if I were you.”

There was a gasp of surprise from the man – the same sort of a gasp as when Tom had shown him his forged note at Elmwood Hall.

“Wha – what’s that?” stammered Mr. Skeel.

“I said, leave the boat alone!” said Tom sharply.

“I – I was just fixing it!” went on the man.

“Yes, fixing it to get away in it,” answered our hero bitterly. “I saw you.”

“It was – was slipping, and I – I – ” spoke Mr. Skeel hesitatingly.

“That’s enough!” cried Tom sternly. “I saw you loosen several of the holding ropes. You wouldn’t have done that if you wanted to make the boat more secure. I believe you intended to desert us. And I believe you tried to take my money belt away from me the other night.”

“Don’t you dare say such things to me!” stormed the former Latin instructor, as though Tom were in his classroom. But the flash of the old-time spirit was only momentary.

“I dare say them because they’re true,” said Tom quietly. “Get away from that boat! Don’t you dare touch another rope.”

“Oh, I – I don’t know what I’m doing!” exclaimed the unhappy man. “I – I believe I’m going out of my mind. Don’t – don’t tell on me, Tom.”

“I must,” spoke the lad gently, and with a feeling of pity rather than anger. “Our lives depend on that boat, and if you are not to be trusted Abe and Joe must know it. I shall have to tell them. They can’t depend on you any more, and they must arrange the watch differently.”

“Oh, Tom, don’t tell!” Mr. Skeel was fairly whining now, and his underlying cowardice showed.

“Abe! Joe!” called Tom sharply.

“Aye, aye! What is it?” asked Abe, appearing at the doorway of the shelter.

“Have you sighted land – a sail?” asked Joe.

Then both sailors saw the dangling ropes that held the boat from slipping – they saw Tom standing in a menacing attitude, and Mr. Skeel shrinking away.

“The boat – it’s almost overboard!” cried Joe.

“Did some accident happen, Tom?” asked Abe.

“No – not an accident. I’m sorry to have to say it, but he – this man – was about to cut it loose, and, I think, sail off in it,” replied our hero.

For a moment there was silence, and then Abe exclaimed with a deep breath:

“The scoundrel!”

“By Davy Jones!” cried Joe. “We ought to throw him overboard! Get forward!” he cried, holding back his anger as best he could. “You’ll berth forward after this, and we’ll not trust you any more. Get forward!”

Without a word Mr. Skeel obeyed, and then Joe and Abe, with the help of Tom, made the boat secure again. Little Jackie had not awakened.

“Here’s a piece of sail cloth, it’s more than you deserve,” growled Joe, as he tossed it to Mr. Skeel. “You won’t freeze, and you can sleep on that for the rest of the night. In the morning we’ll have a talk before we sail in the boat. We’ll decide then what’s best to be done.”

“Oh, don’t leave me behind! Don’t sail without me and leave me on this derelict!” begged Mr. Skeel.

“It would serve you right if we did,” declared Joe.

“And I don’t much fancy voyaging in a small boat with a man like him,” came from Abe.

“But we can hardly leave him behind,” said Tom in a low voice.

“No, I s’pose not,” agreed Abe. “Well, we’ll decide in the morning. Now, Joe, you and I’ll divide the rest of the night into two watches.”

“Let me take my share!” begged Tom. “I’m not a bit sleepy. In fact I don’t believe I can go to sleep again.”

“Well, lie down and rest then,” proposed Joe. “Abe and I will stand watch and watch. It will soon be daylight. Besides, we can’t take any chances with a desperate man like him. We’ve got to be on our guard.”

“That’s what,” assented Abe. “You go lie down, Tom.”

Which our hero did, and, in spite of the tumult of thoughts that crowded in his brain he managed to fall asleep beside Jackie.

The morning broke fair, and with a gentle wind.

“Hurray!” cried Joe, as he stretched himself. “Just the day for a launching. And the breeze is in the right direction too, if I’m any judge. We’ll fetch some island now. I’m sure of it, though why we haven’t done so before is a mystery to me.”

“That’s so – and we haven’t even sighted a ship,” added Abe. “I never heard tell of such a thing – drifting about in this part of the ocean as long as we have, and never a sight of the thousand and one islands that are scattered around here. It’s fair strange. But we’ll soon be all right.”

Mr. Skeel sat dejected and alone, some distance from the others, and they did not speak to him. Their hearts were too bitter against him. The scanty breakfast was served, Jackie alone getting a full ration, though naturally he did not eat much. There was plenty of water, however, but of food they must be sparing, for there was no telling how long their voyage might yet last.

“Well, what’s to be done about him?” asked Abe, when they had collected their scanty belongings in the lifeboat, and were about ready for the launching.

“That’s a problem,” declared Joe.

“We can’t leave him here, that’s certain,” decided Tom. “We have got to take him with us.”

“But he’s got to be told some plain facts,” insisted Abe. “He’s got to be made to understand that another treacherous move and overboard he goes!”

“Well, something like that,” admitted Tom. “But I guess he’s had his lesson.”

“Then you tell him,” suggested Abe. “You made him knuckle under once, and you can do it again.” For Tom had told the story of the revolt he led at Elmwood Hall.

Tom walked forward to where the renegade professor sat by himself.

“Mr. Skeel,” said our hero, “we are going to leave the derelict in a few minutes, and try our luck in the small boat. But – ”

“Oh, Tom Fairfield, don’t say that you’re going to leave me here to die!” cried the man. “Don’t say that! I’ll promise anything you like. I’ll row the boat, or do anything, only don’t leave me here alone.”

“We don’t intend to,” spoke Tom. “We’ll take you with us, but only on condition that you try no more treacherous tricks. Will you promise?”

“Yes, yes! Oh, I don’t know what made me do that! I don’t really believe I knew what I was doing. I’ll promise anything you ask. I’ll do anything you say, only take me with you, please!”

He seemed sufficiently sincere, and contrite, and both Abe and Joe agreed that the only thing to do would be to take him with them.

“But we’ll keep an eye on him, just the same,” declared Joe grimly, “and he can’t share in any of the watches.”

Their preparations were all made. Little Jackie was all excitement and childish anticipation over the change to the smaller boat. In fact of late he had even ceased to ask for his father, so interested was he in their strange life on the ocean.

“All aboard!” called Abe, who acted as master of ceremonies. “All aboard, and I’ll cut loose!”

They climbed in, taking the places assigned to them, for there was not much room to move about. The sail was ready to hoist, Joe and Abe having made a seamanlike job of this. The food and water had been stowed away, and the tools they had succeeded in getting from the carpenter’s quarters were put in place. A large tin was provided in case there should be necessity of bailing against leaks.

“All aboard!” called Abe again.

He was the last one in, and arranged to cut a single rope that held the boat fast, thus allowing it to slip into the sea from the sloping deck of the derelict.

There was a moment’s pause. They all took a last look at the wreck which had been their home for so many days.

“Give the word, Joe,” said Abe in a low voice. “Watch the waves, and give the word to cut when the sea’s calm.”

“Aye, aye,” answered his mate quietly.

Fortunately there was not much of a swell on, but certain waves were larger than others, and Joe watched for a favorable one on which to launch the craft.

“Cut loose!” he called suddenly.

With a hatchet Abe severed the line. The lifeboat held for an instant, poised on the sloping deck, and then quickly slid down into the water, taking the sea with a little splash.

“Hurray!” yelled Tom. “Now we’re off!”

“Afloat again, and with something like a proper craft under our feet!” added Joe. “Hoist the sail, Abe, and let’s see how she behaves!”

The sail was run up. It filled with wind and the boat swung around, falling off before a gentle breeze. In a moment they were some distance away from the derelict.

“Good-bye, old hulk!” cried Tom. “You served us a good turn.”

“And I wish we could blow it up, or sink it, so as to take it out of the way of other ships,” spoke Abe, “but we can’t. However, we’ll give information about it.”

On forged the sailboat, putting more and more distance between herself and the wreck.

“And now, once more, I’m off to rescue dad and mother,” murmured Tom. “I wonder if I’ll ever find them?” and a mist of tears came into his eyes.

CHAPTER XX
DAYS OF SUFFERING

“Does she leak any?” asked Joe anxiously. He was up forward, attending to the sail, while Abe was at the helm.

“A few drops coming in,” replied the other sailor. “But nothing to speak of. She’ll swell up when she’s been in the water a while, and be as tight as a drum.”

“Good! We’ve got a right proper little boat, I’m thinking.”

“And she sails well, too,” declared Tom, observing the behavior of the craft with a critical glance. “She can go close to the wind, too, I believe.”

“Right you are, matie,” exclaimed Abe. “If we had a compass now we could lay as good a course as any ocean liner.”

But they did not have this aid to navigation, though the two sailors could manage to get along without it. They held a consultation, and decided that to steer in a general southwesterly direction would be the proper course.

“There’s islands there, if they’re anywhere,” declared Abe; “and there ought to be ships we could speak.”

“We ought to be somewhere near the equator, if the heat goes for anything,” declared Tom. In fact in the last few days the sun had become unbearably hot.

“I shouldn’t wonder but what we were, matie,” assented Joe. “We drifted and sailed quite some distance in the derelict, and we were headed for the equator when the poor old Silver Star went down to Davy Jones’s locker. So I shouldn’t wonder but what we’d soon cross the line, if we haven’t done so already.”

“It sure is hot enough,” agreed Abe.

It was indeed, and being in the open boat they missed the wooden shelter they had had while on the wreck. Still there was a fine breeze that sent the sailboat along at a good speed, and served to make the atmosphere more endurable.

They had brought along all the sailcloth, and once they were well under way the sailors rigged up a little shelter where Jackie could rest out of the glaring sun. The small chap was delighted with the change to the sailboat, and laughed and chatted as if being shipwrecked was a big joke.

“Though if we get into a blow it won’t be so safe in this craft as on the other,” commented Abe. “Still I think we’re in for a spell of good weather now, and we’re somewhat out of the region of storms, if I’m any judge.”

Now that they were fairly under way again they made their plans for standing watch. Of course Mr. Skeel was left out of it, save during the day, when he was to take his trick at the helm. He seemed to realize this, and, though he did not say much, he acted differently. He seemed much more humble.

At night Tom was to take the early trick, so as to enable him to remain near Jackie during the later hours. Joe and Abe divided up the rest of the night watch.

“We’ll keep sailing night and day,” Abe said, “for we want to get to land as soon as we can, or speak some vessel, and that may happen after dark as easily as during the day.”

“The sooner the better,” murmured Joe, with a glance at the rapidly dwindling store of provisions.

They took an account of the stock when it came time to serve dinner, and the total quantity of food left was less than they had imagined.

“What’s to be done?” asked Tom gravely.

“Have to go on shorter rations – that’s all,” decided Abe. “That is, us grown folks.”

“Shorter rations!” exclaimed Mr. Skeel. “I don’t see how I can live on any less.”

“It’s a question of living several days, or dying sooner – that’s what it is,” said Joe, half savagely. “We’ve got to keep alive until we sight land, or until a ship rescues us, and the only way to do it is to eat as little as possible. Just enough to keep from starving.”

“Then we’ll do it,” said Tom simply, and he proceeded to deal out much reduced portions of food. Fortunately there was no need to shorten the water supply yet, though they did take less, for they all knew the horror of thirst.

All that day they sailed before a fair wind, and not a moment but what they looked eagerly for a sight of some sail on the horizon, or the smudge of smoke that would tell of a steamer. But they saw nothing.

They were more anxious than they had been on the derelict, for, though the weather was calm, and seemed likely to remain so, there was no telling when a storm would sweep over the ocean. And a storm in an open boat was a different matter from one on the big, though water-logged, hulk of the lumber vessel.

True, the lifeboat had water-tight compartments, and would not be likely to sink, but seas breaking over her would mean the almost certain destruction of some, if not all, of the little band of shipwrecked ones. So they looked anxiously for a rescue.

Night came – a beautiful night with a calm sea, and a great silver moon riding over head. It seemed an augury of good luck and they all felt their hearts beat a little lighter. Even Professor Skeel looked less gloomy and sour, though he did not mingle nor talk with the others, sitting by himself.

They slept by turns, though not as comfortably as on the derelict. Still they realized that they were making better time, and time was a great object with them now.

Morning came, and found them afloat on a still calm sea, a sea that extended all around them, unbroken by any haze or mist that might mean land, or any speck or cloud that might indicate a sailing or steaming vessel. The sun beat down in a blaze of heat.

It was at noon, when Tom went to serve out the frugal meal, that he made a discovery that alarmed him.

“Look here!” he cried to Abe. “One of the water kegs has sprung a leak, and it’s empty.”

“Empty!” gasped the sailor, making his way to where Tom stood by the water supply.

“Yes, not a drop in it.”

Abe shook the keg. There was no welcome sound of water splashing around inside it. He drew the bung, and a few drops trickled out. Then, tying a length of rope to it, the sailor lowered it overboard.

“What’s that for?” asked Tom.

“I want to see where the leak is,” was the quiet answer. “I don’t see how a sound keg could spring a leak in the night.”

“Then you think – ” began Tom.

“I don’t know what I do think – yet,” was the reply. He held the keg aloft, and aside from the water that dripped from the outside none came from it. “There’s no leak there,” half growled Abe. “Some one has emptied that water butt!” He looked to where Mr. Skeel stood at the helm.

“Do you think – ” began Tom in a whisper.

“Wait. Don’t say anything yet,” cautioned Abe. “But we’ll keep our eyes open.”

But if Mr. Skeel knew he was suspected he did not show it. He accepted his small share of food and water with the others, and he did not complain, as he usually did.

For three more days they sailed on, each hour adding to their sufferings, for it was very hot. And they scarcely seemed to cool off in the night before it was daylight again.

The water got lower, and to Tom’s horror, one day, as he went to serve out the food, he saw that the supply was much lower than he had thought.

“I’m sure there was more than this,” he said to the sailors when the professor was at the helm.

“There’s something wrong going on here,” decided Joe, “and I’m going to see what it is. There’s got to be a search made.”

One was soon under way, but it revealed nothing. Mr. Skeel had been in the habit of sleeping on a pile of the canvas and this was looked over. The man was evidently aware of the suspicion in which he was held, but he said nothing, and quietly moved away when the sailors looked under his canvas bed.

“Unless some sort of a sea monster boarded us in the night, I don’t see how the food and water could disappear,” said Tom.

“There’s no sea monsters that could do such a thing,” declared Joe, knowing Tom was only joking. “And yet – well, we’ll have to get along with less, that’s all.”

They were down now to almost the limit of human endurance in the allowance of food and water. All but Jackie – he had nearly all he asked for.

Half a week passed. Their sufferings had increased from day to day with the heat of the sun. Their lips and tongues began to swell and get black from lack of sufficient water, and their stomachs gnawed constantly from hunger. They were days of suffering indeed.

Their eyes were strained from looking for a sail, or a sight of land. They were weak and feverish. By dousing their bodies with sea water some of the pangs of thirst were lessened, but the matter of food could not be remedied.

Tom watched Mr. Skeel narrowly and it seemed that the professor did not suffer as did the others. Yet he did not appear to have any secret store of food or water. Indeed in a small boat it was difficult to imagine where he could hide it. Yet Tom was suspicious.

It was one cloudy night when our hero made his important discovery. It was his trick at the helm, and he had put Jackie to sleep, and moved aft to take the rude steering sweep. Professor Skeel’s position was well forward, in the bow, and the two sailors, worn out by their suffering and hardships, were lying amidships.

Tom began to feel light-headed. He imagined he saw land ahead in the darkness – a ship coming to their rescue – a ship filled with ice water and good things to eat. He imagined he heard his father and mother calling to him.

“Come, this won’t do!” he exclaimed, half aloud. “I must keep a better grip on myself. Maybe we’ll be rescued to-morrow.”

He stretched himself, and tried not to think of cool water and tables piled with food. And yet the more he tried to stop it, the more often did visions of great glass pitchers filled with ice water come before him. That day they had had only a single tin cup full of water each – one cup full for the whole hot day!

“Oh, for a good, long drink!” whispered Tom.

And then he started. Surely that was the tinkle and drip of water that he heard! Where did it come from?