Tom Fairfield at Sea: or, The Wreck of the Silver Star. Chapman Allen
parents, had remained in Australia ever since September, when they went there, to settle up the matter of the property that had been left to them. Tom had spent the between-term vacations with Jack Fitch, but the Easter one, his parents wrote him, they wished him to spend with an aged aunt.
“And – and, maybe that’s the last letter I’ll ever get from them,” thought our hero gloomily.
He was, as I have said, on his way back to the Hall from the theatrical performance, when Jack Fitch had unexpectedly come upon the item of bad news.
“Say, maybe this is nothing but a newspaper yarn,” suggested Bert Wilson, for want of something better to say, after a period of tense silence.
“I wish I could think so,” answered Tom gloomily. “But this paper is a reliable one, and that cablegram came by the Associated Press. That organization doesn’t send out false news very often.”
“But this may be just one of those occasions,” put in George. He was not asking questions now. He, as well as the others, wanted to do all they could for Tom, who was a general favorite in school.
“Well, of course, I’m going to hope so,” said our hero. “But that isn’t going to stop me from doing things.”
“What is your plan?” asked Jack.
“I don’t just know. I want to find out about the truth of this dispatch, if I can. I’m going to telegraph, or cablegraph – or – or, do something.”
“If we can do anything to help you, let us know,” suggested Bert.
“That’s right,” added George.
“My father has a lot to do with telegraph and cable companies,” said Jack. “He has a brokerage office in New York. Maybe he could get some information for you, by wire.”
“Perhaps he can,” agreed Tom. “I’ll ask him in the morning. Oh, I wish it was morning now!”
It was rather a dejected group of students who quietly made their way back into Elmwood Hall that night. Tom’s grief was like a pall over all of them, and they would not have greatly minded if they had been caught out after hours by some prowling monitor, or a late-staying professor.
But it was all too easy. They managed to get into the basement unobserved, and Demy, the friendly and studious janitor, let the boys into their corridor, whence they made their way to their rooms.
“By Jove, Tom, I wish I hadn’t bought that paper,” spoke Jack, as the two chums were getting ready for bed.
“Nonsense! It wasn’t your fault, Jack; I’d have known it sooner or later, and I’m glad to have it sooner. I can get busy quicker.”
“But even if the wreckage was found,” went on Tom’s chum, “that doesn’t say that the Kangaroo is lost. She may have been in a bad storm, and some of her lifeboats may have been carried away. Why even if badly damaged she could manage to keep afloat for a long time. A wooden ship isn’t like a steel one, you know.”
“I suppose not. I’ll hope for the best.”
“And I’ll wire to dad for you the first thing in the morning,” promised Jack.
Tom did not pass a very good night, sleeping only a little, and that restlessly, and he was up early. So was Jack, and at the suggestion of the latter they both obtained permission to go into town, and to absent themselves from lectures that day.
“Of course, my dear lads, of course!” exclaimed Doctor Meredith genially, when the case had been explained to him. “Do whatever you think necessary. And I will help you all I can. I sincerely trust that you will find the report unfounded, or, at least, that it is not as bad as it seems.”
“Say, he’s all right, if he is a head master; isn’t he?” asked Jack, as he and his chum were on their way to town, after an early breakfast ahead of their class.
“He sure is. Skeel was the only thorn here, and he’s gone; thank goodness!”
“I wonder where?”
“I don’t know. I heard he’d gone out west somewhere, changed his name, and was trying to get a berth in a new school.”
The two lads made their way to a telegraph office, and, explaining matters to the agent, he kindly offered to rush the messages for them. Jack sent one to his father, requesting an answer as soon as possible.
“Now we’ll have to wait a bit,” suggested Jack. “Come on for a walk around town.”
They were back at the office in a comparatively short time, however, and waited there while the instruments nervously clicked off their messages of cheer or sadness.
“Here comes one for you,” the operator suddenly said, and Tom stared at the affairs of brass and rubber, vainly wishing that he could understand the Morse code. Finally the agent handed over a moist slip.
“Sorry I have no good news for your chum,” Mr. Fitch wired his son. “Have communicated with Sydney agency and they confirm report. Kangaroo may not be lost, but she is missing. Can I do anything else?”
For a moment there was silence between Jack and Tom, and then the former said:
“Well, it isn’t as bad as it might be. Only missing. She may be afloat, and may limp into port. It will be hard waiting, though, for you, Tom.”
“But I’m not going to wait!” cried our hero.
“What?” asked Jack in surprise.
“I say I’m not going to wait for news. That’s the worst thing in the world – waiting.”
“But what are you going to do?”
“I’m going to the rescue!” exclaimed Tom. “I’m going to quit school, go to San Francisco, catch the first steamer I can for Australia, and hunt up dad and my mother.”
“Great!” cried Jack. “By Jove, I wish I could go with you! When are you going to start?”
“To-day, if I can get packed up. I’m off for Australia!”
CHAPTER III
A MYSTERIOUS PASSENGER
Tom’s sudden resolve came rather as a shock to his chum, Jack, and the latter, after his first expression of approval, began to wonder if the plan would prove practical.
“But how are you going to do it, Tom?” he asked. “Have you money enough to charter a steamer?”
“No, not exactly, though I guess I could raise it if I had to, for, since he got this Australian property, dad will have quite a fortune. But that won’t be necessary.”
“How else are you going to rescue them?”
“Well, I don’t exactly know,” admitted Tom frankly. “I just can’t wait quietly around here, doing nothing. I’m going to start for Australia, anyhow, and maybe some plan will come to me on the way.”
“But it seems to me,” insisted Jack, practically, “that you ought to have some definite plan.”
“Well, I have, part of one,” went on Tom. “I’m going to Sydney, unless I find them drifting around before I get there. I’ll pick out some steamer that will go as near as possible to the latitude and longitude mentioned in the dispatch, as being where the wreckage was picked up. Maybe I can induce the captain to cruise around there for a while, even if I have to pay for lost time.
“Anyhow, if I don’t locate them before, I’ll go on to Sydney, and there I’ll hire some sort of a vessel, and set out in search of my folks.”
“That sounds reasonable,” admitted Jack. “I only wish I could go with you. But I’m afraid my folks wouldn’t let me.”
“I wish you could go, too,” spoke Tom. “But I guess it’s out of the question. Besides, you’ve got your school career to think of. Leaving now, just before the spring term, might put you back, and you’d be a Freshman for two years.”
“I