CHAPTER VIII
A BLOW IN THE DARK
"Trouble somewhere," reflected Tom, as he hastily dressed as best hecould in that small stateroom, which seemed uncertain on its own partas to what was the floor or ceiling. Sometimes one of the walls wouldserve as the floor, and again as the ceiling.
"Trouble," repeated Tom, "or else some one is frightened. The stormmust have developed in a hurry. I'm going to see what's up. I don'tlike being below when there's any danger."
Finishing with his dressing, Tom hurried along the passageway leadingto the upper deck. He had to steady himself as he went along, or hewould have received more hard knocks.
Coming opposite the room where the "mysterious" man was quartered, Tomnoted that the door was ajar a trifle. It went shut with a slam asour hero passed, but whether the occupant had been the cause, or theswaying of the ship, Tom could not determine.
"No chance to talk with Captain Steerit now," Tom reflected. "But Iguess it will keep until after the blow."
On deck our hero was at once made aware of the fury of the storm,and its increasing violence. He had a glimpse of great billows,foam-capped, racing along at the side of the _Silver Star_, as if tokeep pace with her, mocking her efforts to speed away from them. Heheard the wind fairly howling through the wire stays, as if giantfingers were playing a wild tune on some immense harp. And he felt,too, the violent pitching and tossing of the craft, as he had not inhis cabin below. In fact so great was the motion that he had difficultyin keeping his feet.
"Some blow--this," gasped Tom, the words being almost snatched out ofhis mouth by the wind.
He saw sailors making their way here and there, fastening in place suchgear as might tear away when the storm became worse. And that this waslikely was becoming every moment more evident.
Tom managed to make his way forward, clinging to some safety ropes thathad been rigged. He was near the bow, and could see towering billowscurling toward the ship, when a voice hailed him.
"Get back! Go on back, Tom!" someone shouted.
He looked up toward the bridge, to see Captain Steerit standing there,clad in oilskins, for the spray was flying from the crests of themountain-like ridges of water.
"Is there any danger?" Tom shouted back.
"There always is--in a storm," was the grim response. "Get back. Notelling when a comber may come aboard, and it will carry you off like achip. You can't hold on. Get back, Tom!"
Our hero decided that it was good advice to follow, and, even as heturned he felt the ship stagger as though some giant had dealt her ablow. There was a shower of spray and a rush of water that drenchedTom, and nearly carried him off his feet.
"Well I'm wet through," he reflected. "I'd better get back to bed, orelse put on dry clothes. I should have put on oilskins before comingup."
As he went down a companionway he saw Mr. Blake coming up, with hiswife clinging to him. She had been crying, and was even now sobbing.
"Don't go up," Tom advised them.
"Oh, is it as bad as that? Are we sinking?" gasped Mrs. Blake.
"Oh, there's no particular danger," said Tom, as calmly as he could,"only you'll get all wet. I'm drenched. Captain Steerit warned me back,just as a big wave came aboard."
"Oh, Will, I'm so frightened!" wailed Mrs. Blake. "I know we'll go tothe bottom!"
"Nonsense!" answered her husband. "I told you we'd better stay below."
"It's more comfortable, at any rate," said Tom, and he helped Mr. Blakeassist his wife to their stateroom.
Tom lost no time in putting on dry garments, and over them he put asuit of oilskins, that would keep out the wet. Thus equipped he startedfor the deck again.
"Now that I'm up I may as well stay and see the storm out," Tomreflected. "If it grows worse I don't want to be below, anyhow. I'llhave more chance in the open."
For a moment his heart misgave him, as he thought of the storm throughwhich the ship on which his father and mother were sailing had gone.
"I do hope the _Silver Star_ isn't wrecked," mused Tom. "That wouldupset all my plans. But pshaw! It won't happen."
He passed one of the sailors whom he knew.
"What do you think of it?" asked Tom.
The man paused for a moment before replying. Then, looking to see thatno one overheard him, the man answered:
"We've got orders to put fresh water in the lifeboats, and to see thatall's clear for getting away in a hurry."
"As bad as that?" asked Tom, in some surprise. "Why I fancied the shipwouldn't make much of this storm."
"It isn't so much the storm," went on the sailor, "though that's badenough, and it's getting worse. But she's opened some of her seams, andwe're taking in water."
"Have they started the pumps?" asked Tom in some alarm.
"Sure, but one of them is out of commission, and the others have allthey can do. Take my advice and get ready for any emergency."
"Jove! As bad as that!" exclaimed Tom with a gasp. "Surely thepassengers ought to be told."
"Oh, don't worry," the sailor advised him. "The captain will tell themsoon enough. And if they know too soon it may start a panic."
"That's so," agreed our hero.
He turned to go back to his stateroom, and, as he did so, he becameaware that the door to the apartment of the man he suspected had beenopen a crack. It was quickly closed as our hero came opposite it, as ifthe occupant had been listening to what the sailor had said.
"I wonder if I hadn't better give Mr. Blake, and some of the others, alittle warning," reflected Tom. "No, I guess I won't. The women mightget all excited. Captain Steerit will surely take no chances. But nowwhat had I better do? I'm going to take my money with me, anyhow, ifwe have to leave the ship."
Tom had provided himself with a money belt before coming on his trip,and he now strapped this about his waist with the pockets filled. Healso took a few personal belongings that would not take up much room,nor be heavy. He had on warm but light clothing, and light shoes.
"If worst comes to worst, and I have to swim for it, I can do it thisway," he reflected. "It won't be cold, that's one good thing, and therearen't any icebergs in this part of the Pacific. Still I hope nothinghappens."
Once more he made his way up on deck. He saw none of the otherpassengers there, and, taking his place in a sheltered spot, he watchedthe storm.
It was certainly growing worse. Every now and then big seas camecrashing over the bow, sending a shower of spray up to the bridge whereCaptain Steerit kept unceasing watch. The _Silver Star_ was pitchingand tossing more than ever. Now she would poke her nose toward somebig, dark billow, and it seemed as if she must bury herself beneath it.But she would rise to it, and ride on the crest, being poised there fora moment with her bow and propeller clear of water.
At such times the engines raced, the screw having no resistance, andthe whole vessel quivered from stem to stern. Then the staunch craftwould slide down the inclined plane of water into the valley below,only to repeat the process at the next huge wave.
Then, when some big comber came aboard, the ship would stagger underthe blow, until it seemed as if she must be crushed. But ever she wouldemerge from the battle with the sea, to stagger on once more.
It was magnificent, but terrifying, and Tom, who had never been in sucha storm, was not a little frightened. But when he looked toward thebridge, and saw the commander there in his glistening oilskins, as calmand undisturbed as though he was but guiding his vessel on a summerday, our hero felt reassured.
"The ship's in good hands," thought Tom. "We'll pull through yet,barring accidents, and even with a leak, and one pump useless."
Yes--"barring accidents." That is the one thing on which sailors cannotcount.
All had been done that human ingenuity could suggest. Everythingmovable on deck had been made fast, and the engines were going at toppower to force the ship through the storm. Tom could see dark figuresclustered about the lifeboats, and he knew the sailors stood ready tolower them in case of necessity.
"But I think I'd rather take my chance on the _Silver Star_ than in asmall boat in such a sea," reflected Tom, not without a shudder, as helooked at the heaving billows.
He could not tell whether it was raining or not, as the spray waslike a fall of the drops from the clouds. There was no thunder orlightning--just a hard, steady blow.
On staggered the steamer. Tom braced himself in a corner by adeckhouse, and held on. He could look over the rail at the hissing seasthat ran alongside.
Suddenly there came a hoarse cry from the lookout in the bows.
"Port! Port your wheel!" he screamed. "We'll be upon it in a second.Port!"
"Port it is!" came the quick voice of Captain Steerit.
A moment later there came a staggering blow in the dark--a blow thatseemed to halt the _Silver Star_ in her career--a blow that made thecraft shiver from stem to stern!
Tom Fairfield at Sea; or, The Wreck of the Silver Star Page 8