TOM GOES OVERBOARD
“Stand by to lower the boats! Order all hands on deck! Women and
children first!”
Captain Steerit was yelling these commands through a megaphone to his
crew, even while he turned to order the first mate, on the bridge with
him, to go below to the engine room, and see what damage had been done.
The _Silver Star_, after the first staggering blow, had come to a
stop, and lay pitching and tossing on the waves. Clearly her engines
were motionless, for Tom missed the vibration that had told of their
ceaseless revolutions.
“Something bad has happened,” reflected our hero. “I’ve got to be on
the lookout.”
He glanced over the rail, and could see nothing but the black, rushing
waves. He had half a mind to go back to his cabin, and see if he could
not crowd some of his belongings into a valise.
“If we’ve got to take to the boats,” he reflected, “there are not so
many of us but what we can each take a little baggage. I’ll need some
other clothing if we come out of this safely. I’ll take a chance.”
He was about to go below when he once more felt the throb of the
engines, and the ship quivered.
“We’re under way again,” he said, half aloud. “I guess it’s all right.
We may have hit a floating spar, or something like that. And yet, from
the way the lookout yelled, it seemed to be more dangerous than that. I
guess it’s all right, though.”
But the order to stand by to lower the boats had not been recalled, and
already the sailors were swarming about them, seeing that the falls
were clear, and that food and water were on board the small craft.
Small craft, indeed, they seemed, to be trusted on the mighty ocean in
a storm, and yet they were staunchly made, and Tom knew that if they
could be successfully launched they could weather many a blow.
“Well, if I’ve got to take a chance, I’ve got to,” he reflected. “I’ll
get some of my things, and wait for my place in the boat.”
The sound of crying and tearful exclamations could now be heard above
the roar of the gale, and Tom recognized the voice of Jackie Case, the
little boy whom he had saved.
“Poor little chap!” he mused. “It’s tough on the women and children.”
After that first staggering blow, and the confusion that followed,
order seemed to come out of chaos. Captain Steerit had matters well in
hand, and he issued his orders calmly. The women were comforted as best
they could, and urged to get in the small boats. Some objected, fearing
to trust themselves to the craft in such a storm. But the captain
insisted.
“Is there really any danger?” asked Mr. Blake, as he stood by one of
the starboard boats, his wife clinging to him. Tom was near enough to
hear the captain’s answer.
“We have sprung several bad leaks,” was what the commander said,
“and the pumps can’t keep the water down. We must have struck a
half-submerged wreck, and that further opened the seams which were
started by the strain of the storm. I regret to say it, but I fear we
must abandon the ship--before it is--too late!”
His solemn words set the women to weeping again, but their relatives
tried to calm them. Tom had started for his stateroom, intending to get
some of his belongings, when little Jackie spied him.
“Tom! Tom!” he called. “Come with me.”
“In a little while, Jackie, my boy!” Tom answered. “I’ll get in after
you do.”
“Come with me and my papa,” invited the little lad, and he started to
run across the heaving deck, but his parent caught him up in his arms
and hugged him close.
The engines that had started up, after a temporary stoppage caused by
the collision, again suddenly ceased to work, and once more the _Silver
Star_ lay at the mercy of the wind and waves. It was raining now, and
the storm was at its height, the wind whipping the stinging drops into
the faces of everyone.
“Hurry, men!” urged the captain. “Get them into the boat and follow
yourselves. Where are you going, Tom?” he asked, for the commander had
come down from the bridge.
“To my cabin to get some of my things,” answered the lad.
“Better not. We’ll have to be quick! She’s beginning to settle. She
won’t last much longer! There must be a big hole ripped in her. What’s
the matter with those signal lights?” he cried.
“Aye, aye, sir!” came the answer, and a moment later there flared up
the glare of the rockets that might serve to call help to the stricken
vessel. The wireless, too, was crackling out an appeal, but this did
not last long, as the dynamo was soon put out of commission, and the
storage battery did not seem to work.
“Well, I guess we’ve got to go,” mused Tom. “This is certainly a bad
start toward the rescue of dad and mother!” and he felt a mist of tears
come into his eyes, that mingled with the rain and the salty spray of
the sea.
“Are all the women and children in?” asked the captain, for one boat
would more than serve to hold them.
“Aye, aye, sir!” came the answer.
“Then let their husbands or other relatives join them.”
The men involved in this order moved forward over the sloping and
heaving deck, in the glare of the signal fires, and took their places.
“Tom! Tom Fairfield!” cried little Jackie. “I want you with me!”
“Yes, Tom, you might as well go,” said the captain, holding out his
hand to our hero. “Good-by.”
“But, aren’t you coming? There’s lots of room.”
“I’ll come--last,” was the grim answer. “Go! And good-luck to you. I’ve
put a trusty man in charge of that boat.”
Our hero sprang toward the lifeboat which was all ready to be lowered
at a favorable moment. But Tom Fairfield was not destined to enter her.
At that moment, and with a suddenness that took them all unprepared,
there came another frightful blow against the side of the ill-fated
_Silver Star_. She heeled over, and in such a manner that the lifeboat
with its load of shrieking women and pale-faced men overhung the sea.
“Lower away!” shouted some one.
“Wait!” cried Captain Steerit.
Tom felt himself knocked down and hurled across the sloping deck. In
vain he tried to grasp something to stay his progress. A wave splashed
up, making the deck even more slippery.
Over and over rolled Tom, and he hoped, when he came to the rail, to
save himself. But the rail was not there. In the glare of the burning
signal lights Tom could see where a great portion of it and the netting
had been torn away. There was nothing to save him from rolling into the
sea.
In vain he tried to clutch the slippery deck, to hold on to something.
He did not cry for help. He knew it would be useless. Over and over he
rolled.
The vessel was sinking fast now. Tom, imperiled as he was, could tell
that. She rose more sluggishly to the heaving waves. There were cries
of pain, terror and confused shouts.
A moment later our hero found himself shooting off into space.
Down and down he plunged. He could see the glare of the rockets
reflected from the surface of the boiling waves. He saw something
white floating, and he tried to hurl himself toward that.
In another instant he had hit the water feet first, and felt himself
going down into the depths. He had been tossed overboard into the midst
of the ocean and in the heart of the storm. The waters closed over him,
and filled his ears with their booming sound.