MAKING A BOAT
“Say, what’s the matter with you?” burst out Abe. “Do you think I’m
crazy, Joe?”
“There, there now. It’s all right. You’ll be over it in a little while.
Just lie down,” begged his mate.
“He sure does,” murmured Abe smiling. “He sure thinks I’m touched in
the head. Ho! Ho! That’s a good one. Joe thinks I’m crazy!” and he
laughed heartily.
Joe looked at Tom, and shook his head sadly. Even Tom himself began to
believe that perhaps the hardships of their position, and the horror of
what might come, had turned the sailor’s brain. But his laugh seemed
natural.
“I’m all right!” insisted Abe, seeing that they were looking at him
curiously.
“Then what do you mean by that talk about a smaller boat, and leaving
the derelict?” demanded Joe half angrily.
“I meant just what I said.”
“And I say anybody’s crazy that talks like that. Where are we going to
get a smaller boat?”
“It’s right here with us now,” declared Abe. “There she is,” and he
pointed to the half smashed lifeboat. “We can cut that in two, use the
stern and bow that ain’t a bit damaged, fasten ’em together in the
middle, with the airtight compartments in each end, and we’ll have as
fine a small boat as we could wish.
“We can hoist the sail on it and then we can make some speed, instead
of just drifting along. I wonder I didn’t think of it before, but it
only sort of just came to me now, and that’s why I got excited I guess.”
“I sure thought you were raving,” declared Joe. “It didn’t seem
natural.”
“And you thought I was touched by the sun; eh, mate?”
“I sure did.”
“Ho! Ho! That’s a good joke! A good one! It’ll do to tell the boys when
we see ’em again.”
“If we ever do,” put in Joe half gloomily.
“Of course we will!” insisted Abe. “Wait until I get the boat made and
you’ll see.”
“But do you think you can do it?” asked Tom. “Won’t it leak?”
“Not when I get through with it,” declared Abe. “I can calk the seams
with some of our clothes, and part of the sail cloth. You will see.”
“But with only an axe, I don’t see how you’re going to cut the boat in
two, and fasten the two ends together,” insisted Tom.
“I’ve done harder jobs than that, matie,” declared Abe. “Wait until I
get to work.”
He then explained his plan. The lifeboat was badly damaged amidships,
but both the bow and stern, where the airtight compartments were
located, were in good shape. By cutting the boat in twain, severing
the damaged portions and bringing the sections together again, lapping
them and making them fast with the copper nails drawn from the useless
parts, Abe hoped to make a serviceable craft, though crude.
“It may leak some,” he admitted, “but I’ll stuff the cracks up with
ravelings from the sail cloth, and our clothes that we need least.
Between us we can spare enough. Then I’ll make a mast for the sail, and
we can leave this hulk and get somewhere. And Joe thought I was touched
by the sun! Ho! Ho! A good joke! A good one!”
“All right,” assented Joe. “If you make that boat you’ll be a good one.
I’ll help, of course, but I don’t believe it can be done.”
“I’ll show you!” exclaimed Abe defiantly.
Forthwith they began to work, even Mr. Skeel doing his share. He had
settled into a gloomy silence, scarcely speaking unless spoken to,
and he seemed to pay little attention to those about him. Clearly the
shipwreck, and the unexpected meeting with the lad who had exposed his
villainy at Elmwood Hall, had dispirited him. Yet at times he showed a
flash of his old manners.
It was harder work than even Abe had imagined, to cut the boat in two,
and get out the damaged part. Especially with only an axe to use. Yet
the old sailor handled the implement with skill, and showed that he
knew his business.
Tom looked after the meals, though he had not much to do, for the menu
was not very varied. He had to keep Jackie amused, too, and invented
such little games as fishing over the broken rail of the ship with a
string for a line, and no hook, and making fairy castles out of the
splinters that Abe knocked off the lifeboat.
Several days passed, and though they looked almost every other minute
for a sail or a sight of land they saw nothing. They were borne on by
the currents and the light winds that at times scarcely filled their
clumsy sail.
The watches were kept as before, Tom not being allowed to share in
them. But the darkness of the night was not relieved by any welcome
light. The days seemed to become more dreary as they passed, and only
for the work of making the boat they might not have stood the time so
well. But the work was a blessing to them.
Tom looked anxiously at the store of food, and as he saw it diminishing,
and no help of rescue at hand he spoke to the two sailors about it.
“Well, we’ll have to reduce rations, that’s all, matie,” said Joe, and
he spoke cheerfully.
“Of course,” assented Abe. “I’ll have the boat done in a few more days,
and then we can set sail. Reduce rations! If I only had a saw I could
work faster, but I’ll do the best I can. Reduce rations, that’s all.
I’m getting too fat as it is.”
He laughed at his joke, and a grim joke it was, for his belt had been
taken in several holes, and could stand more. They were all becoming
thin.
When the next meal, after the reduced ration decision had been arrived
at, was served, Mr. Skeel looked at the portion handed him on the top
of a beef tin.
“Is that all I get?” he demanded roughly. “That isn’t enough for a man.”
“It’s all that can safely be given,” spoke Tom, quietly.
“Well I want more. I demand my fair share.”
“That’s your fair share, mate,” said Joe grimly. “It’s as much as any
of us have. We’re on short rations, don’t you understand?”
“Huh! That may be so, but I notice that you have charge of the food,”
and he sneered at Tom.
“Because we voted him to do so,” put in Abe. “And what the majority
says goes!”
“The boy has more than I have!” snarled the former professor, and he
glanced at Jackie who, under a little tent he had made from a spare
piece of the sail, was eating his lunch at a “play party,” as he called
it.
“That’ll do you!” snapped Joe, shaking a menacing finger at Mr. Skeel.
“You eat what you’ve got, and be thankful on your bended knees that
you’ve got that much. And if I hear any more talk that the boy has more
than you, why I’ll--”
“Easy matie,” cautioned Abe. “Easy.”
Tom looked distressed, but said nothing. When the water was passed,
that too had dwindled in amount. Mr. Skeel looked at his share, and
seemed about to make a protest, but a glance from Joe stopped him.
The weather had been fine for several days; too fine to last, Abe
declared as he worked away at the boat.
“We’re in for another storm, I’m thinking,” he said to Joe.
“Well, keep still about it,” suggested his companion. “No use making
Tom and the kid worry. I guess we can weather it.”
“The waves’ll sweep over this old hulk, once they get running high,”
went on Abe. “And that deck house won’t stand much. The boat, too, is
likely to be washed away. If I only had a saw I could make twice the
speed. But I don’t reckon I could get one.”
“Leastways not unless there’s one aboard, down in the carpenter’s
quarters,” said Joe, “and I don’t see how it’s to be come at. We’ll
have to do the best we can.”
“I reckon so. Catch hold of that plank now, and hold it while I chop it
off.”
They resumed work, pausing now and then to look at the sky. It clouded
up in the afternoon, and there came a heavy rain storm, unaccompanied
by much wind, for which last fact they were thankful.
“This is just what we need!” cried Abe, as he saw the big drops come
down. “Spread out the sail cloth, mates, and catch all the water we
can. We’ll need it.”
The sail was hastily taken down, and with another piece of the canvas
was spread out in the form of a huge bowl. The rain filled it, and,
making a sort of channel at one end, the precious water was run into
the nearly empty kegs. Thus their supply was replenished, and with
lighter hearts they resumed their task, the two sailors and Mr. Skeel
working at the boat, while Tom steered.
It was about a week since they had taken refuge on the derelict, and
the signs of an approaching change in the weather were increasing. In
all that time they had not seen a sail, and what was more remarkable,
they had not sighted an island, though they were in that part of the
Pacific where many are located.
“Either we are passing in and out among them, just far enough away
so as to miss ’em, or we can’t pick ’em out on account of the mist,”
explained Joe. “I was sure we’d sight one before this.”
“Same here,” murmured Abe. “It’s middling queer, though. But if our
grub holds out we’ll soon be afloat in a better craft.”
“It doesn’t look like it,” declared Joe. “You’ve get a lot of work on
it yet.”
“I know I have, and if only there was a saw I’d make double speed.”
Joe did not answer but walked forward to where the hatchway, opening
down into the lower regions of the ship, showed. It was more out of
water than at any previous time, and it could be seen that there was a
passage leading into the crew’s quarters. Joe stood contemplating this,
and then slowly began taking off his shoes, and some of his garments.
“Hi! matie, what are you up to?” hailed Abe, seeing his actions. “Going
for a swim? If you are you’d better look out for sharks. I see some
big fins in the offing this morning.”
“No, I’m not going to swim--I’m going to have a dive.”
“A dive?”
“Yes. I’m going down and see if I can’t fetch up a saw, or something so
you can finish that boat quicker.”
Abe dropped the axe and hurried toward his companion.
“Say, don’t you do it,” he gasped. “You might not be able to get up
again, and we can’t afford to lose you.”
“No danger! If I get _into_ a place, Abe, I can get _out_ again. I’m
going to dive and get you a saw.”
“Don’t do it!” urged the other. “I can make out some how.”
“Here goes!” cried Joe, and with that he walked down the half-submerged
companion steps and dived into the water-filled forecastle quarters.