LOST AT SEA
And then there came an unhappy time indeed for Bobby Blake. In the back
of his mind, for weeks, had been the uncertainty about his father and
mother. Now that uncertainty suddenly developed into a great and
lingering horror--a horror from which not even the elasticity of youth
could easily rebound.
One morning Dr. Raymond sent a note into Mr. Carrin's school. Had not
Bobby been so busy at his work, he would have seen the pale faced
teacher grow still more pallid, and look at him.
Mr. Carrin arose and walked up and down the room. The boys soon
discovered that he was not watching them. Occasionally he stole a
glance at Bobby, but he noticed no other boy.
Then, without saying another word, he went out, and in a minute came
back with Barry Gray. Barry looked startled himself, and very serious.
He stood in the doorway and said:
"Blake! Doctor Raymond wants you in his office. You are to come with
me."
Bobby got up quickly, and with a suddenly beating heart. He believed he
must have done something to bring down upon his head the wrath of the
good Doctor. He could not imagine what it was, but he was frightened.
You see, Bobby had gotten it into his head that possibly he _might_ have
a chance at the Medal of Honor. He was trying to be an exemplary
scholar for that reason--and because he knew it would delight his absent
father and mother, if he gained such an honor.
Now, this sudden and unexpected call shocked him. Fred grabbed his hand
secretly as he passed his seat and squeezed it. Bobby knew that his
chum, thoughtless as Fred usually was, appreciated his present feelings.
When he reached the door, his own face was aflame. He knew all the boys
of the Lower School were looking at him. Mr. Carrin, too, seemed to be
staring at Bobby in a strange way.
Barry put his arm across the smaller boy's shoulder just as soon as the
classroom door closed behind them.
"Buck up, old man!" he said, with a funny choke in his voice. "Things
are never so hard as they seem at first. And there's such a lot of
uncertainty about such reports--"
"What reports, sir?" asked Bobby, breathlessly.
"Didn't Carrin tell you a _thing_?" gasped Barry, stopping short.
"No! What have I done? What's Doctor Raymond going to do with me?"
"Why, you poor little kid!" ejaculated the big boy, grabbing Bobby
tightly again. "You mustn't be afraid of the Old Doc. He wouldn't hurt
a fly. And you're not in bad with him--don't think it!"
"But what is the matter, then?" demanded Bobby.
"It's your folks, Bob," blurted out Barry. "There's uncertain news about
them--"
"They're not sick--not _dead_?" cried Bobby, shaking all over.
"No, no! Of course not," returned Barry, heartily. "Nothing as bad as
that."
"What is it, then?"
"Why, it's only a shipwreck, or something like that. Of course they've
been rescued; folks always are, you know. And they'll have lots of
adventures to write you about."
Bobby was speechless. His pretty, delicate mother _shipwrecked_! Of
course, his father would save her, but she might get wet and catch cold;
that was the first thought that took form in his mind.
"News has come about the big ship they sailed away on," Barry Gray went
on, cheerfully. "Another ship has found part of the deckworks of your
father's steamship, all scorched and burned. There must have been a
fire at sea."
"Well, don't you s'pose they could put the fire out with so much water
around?" asked Bobby, seriously.
"That's right!" exclaimed Barry. "But perhaps the machinery was hurt,
so the ship couldn't be made to go. There wasn't any sails to her, of
course."
"I see," said Bobby, gravely, nodding.
"So they had to take to the boats. You know how it is: Women and
children first! The sailors are always so brave. And the officers
stand by to the last--and if the ship sinks, the captain always goes
down with her, standing on the quarter deck, with the flags flying.
You've read about it, Bobby!"
"Sure!" choked Bobby.
"Of course there are always boats enough for the passengers--and
life-rafts. And they float about for a while and are either picked up
by other ships, or the natives row out in their canoes and save them."
"Yes!" gasped Bobby, letting out the great fear at his heart. "But--but
suppose she should get cold? You know she has a weak throat. The
doctor always tells her to look out for bron--bron-_skeeters_, or
somethin' like that."
"_Who_ has bronchitis?" demanded Barry, rather puzzled.
"My mother."
"Oh! don't you know it's a warm climate down there? Sure! It's in the
Tropics. No chance of catching cold--not at all."
"Oh!" murmured Bobby, and he felt somewhat relieved.
"And they've been picked up by some ship bound around the world,
maybe--that is why you haven't heard from them. You won't hear till
they touch at some port clear across the world, from which they can send
mail.
"Or perhaps," said the comforting captain, "they have gone to some
tropic island, where boats don't often touch. And the sailors will
build shelters for the passengers against the coming of the rainy
season, and then a boat-load of volunteers will hike out looking for a
civilized port, and it will be months and months before help comes to
the island.
"Meanwhile," said the imaginative youngster, his eyes glowing and his
cheek flushed, "your mother and the other ladies will get well and
strong, and all brown like Indians. And the men will have to dress in
goat-skins, for their clothes will wear out, and they'll learn to make
fire by rubbing two sticks together, and they'll have fights with
jaguars--But no!" exclaimed the big boy, suddenly; "of course, there
will be no harmful creatures on an _island_.
"Say! I guess they're having fun all right. Don't you worry, Bobby."
They halted at the doctor's door, and Barry rapped. The voice of the
big principal told them to "Enter!" and the bigger boy pushed open the
door.
"Here he is, sir," said Barry, winking fast over the head of the smaller
boy at Dr. Raymond. "I have just been telling him what a jolly good time
his folks are likely having right now. It must be _so_ interesting to
be shipwrecked."