HE PONDERS AND DECIDES BETWEEN TWO NEAR RELATIONS
When Tom at length did speak his own voice sounded strange to him; but
he said what he had to say with a simple straightforwardness which in
ordinary circumstances would have carried conviction.
"If you'd let me say something," he said, trying to keep his throat
clear, "I'd like to tell you----"
"It's the best thing, sonny," said the man in the sailor suit; "you
needn't be afraid of squealing. How old are you?"
"Seventeen," said Tom, "but it wasn't squealing I was thinking about. I
ain't a-scared, if that's what you think."
He avoided looking at his brother, who tried to catch his eye, and the
men, perhaps seeing this and thinking it might be fruitful to let him
say what he would in his own way, relaxed a trifle toward him.
"While you were searching," Tom went on, hesitating, but still showing
something of his old stolid manner, "I wasn't a-scared, but I was
thinking--I had to think about something--before I could decide what I
ought to do."
"All right, sonny," said the man in the sailor clothes. "I'm glad you
know what's best for you. Out with it. You've got a key to that
porthole, eh? Now where is it?"
"You had a flashlight and threw it out, didn't you?" added the officer.
"Come now."
Tom looked from one to the other. His brother began to speak but was
peremptorily silenced.
"It ain't knowin' what's good for me," Tom managed to say, "'cause as
soon as I--as soon as I--made up my mind about that--then right away I
knew what I ought to do----"
He gulped and looked straight at the officer so as not to meet his
brother's threatening look.
"I had to decide it myself--'cause--'cause Mr. Ellsworth--a man I
know--ain't here. Maybe a feller's own family come first and I
wouldn't--I wouldn't--tell on 'em--if--if they stole--or something like
that," he blurted out, twisting his fingers together. "And--and--I
didn't forget neither--I didn't," he added, turning and looking his
brother straight in the face, "I didn't--I----"
He broke down completely and the men stared at him, waiting.
"Anyway--anyway--I got to remember----" He broke off.
"Well, what became of the light?" the officer urged rather coldly.
"And when you saw me standing on the--deck--last night--I was thinking
about Uncle Sam----" He gulped and hesitated, then went on,
"and--and--that's what made me think about Uncle Sam being a relation
too--kind of--and I got to decide between my brother and my
uncle--like." He gulped again and shook his head with a kind of
desperate resolution. "There--_there_ it is," he almost shouted,
pointing at the scattered sandwich and the mess plate in the wash basin.
"You--picked it up twice," he added with a kind of reckless triumph,
"and you didn't know it."
"What?" said the captain, with a puzzled look at his companions, as if
he were a little doubtful of Tom's sanity.
"There it is," Tom repeated, controlling himself better now that the
truth was out. "He held it--up there--so's the light would shine in the
glass. There ain't anything except that. It's--it's the same idea as a
periscope. He said it in a letter that I gave Mr. Conne--and--and I
found out what he meant. I--I didn't know he was----"
Trying desperately to master his feeling he broke down and big tears
rolled down his cheeks. "I couldn't help it," he said to his brother.
"It ain't 'cause I don't remember--but--I had to decide--and I got to
stand by Uncle Sam!"
"If you didn't know about this," said the captain, watching him keenly,
"how did you suspect it? You'd better try to control yourself and tell
everything. This is a very serious matter."
"You see that piece of cotton waste that you kicked?" said Tom, turning
upon the disguised government agent. "You can see it's fresh and hasn't
got any oil on it. You can see from the flat place on it how it was used
to polish the dish. I ain't----" he gulped. "I ain't going to talk about
my brother--but I got to tell about the papers he's got somewhere. The
same person that said it was like a periscope said something about
having plans of a motor. I got to tell that, and I ain't going to say
any more about him. So now he can't do any more harm. And--and I want
you to please go away," he burst forth, "because I--I got to tell him
about how our mother died--'cause maybe he didn't--get the letter."