Читать книгу Tom Fairfield at Sea: or, The Wreck of the Silver Star - Chapman Allen - Страница 2

While the car is speeding back to Elmwood Hall, bearing Tom and his chums, and while our hero is endeavoring to bear up under the strain of the unexpected and bad news that came to him, I will take the opportunity to tell you something more about him and his friends.

As related in the first book of this series, entitled “Tom Fairfield’s Schooldays,” the reason why he went to Elmwood Hall was because his father and mother had to go to Sydney, Australia, to settle some business affairs about a valuable property inheritance. They did not want to take Tom with them, and so break up his schooling, so they picked out Elmwood Hall for him to attend.

The same day that Tom received the news about going to boarding school and heard that his parents were to start on a long trip, he met Bruce Bennington, who had motored out to where Tom lived, in Briartown. Bruce borrowed Tom’s boat for a row, and Tom was at once struck with the air of trouble that brooded over the student – for Bruce let it be known that he was a Senior at Elmwood Hall.

A little later, Tom started for the place of learning. Almost at the outset he made an enemy of Sam Heller and his crony Nick Johnson. But our hero also made friends, his chief one being Jack Fitch, with whom he roomed in Opus Manor, the dormitory of the Freshmen.

Doctor Pliny Meredith was head master of Elmwood Hall, and among the teachers was Dr. Livingston Hammond, a stout, jolly gentleman, sometimes called the “Live Wire.” Doctor Meredith was known as “Merry,” because, as Jack Fitch said, “he was so solemn,” though not at all grim or forbidding.

There was also a certain Professor Burton Skeel, who was counted one of the most unpleasant of instructors. It was he who had made trouble for Bruce Bennington, in the matter of a forged promissory note, which threatened to ruin the career of the Senior.

But Tom was able to help Bruce in an unexpected way, and get possession of the note. The duplicity of Mr. Skeel was exposed, and he left Elmwood Hall. Not before, however, he had been the cause of considerable trouble.

His treatment of the students was so harsh that Tom proposed that they go on “strike” against him, and refuse to enter his class room. They did, Tom leading the revolt.

Our hero also led the escape from the school, when the whole Latin division of the Freshman class was made prisoners. The boys intended to desert to town, and stay there until Mr. Skeel was removed, but they lost their way in a storm, and had to come back.

Tom, however, had prepared an effigy of the unpopular instructor, and in the midst of a blinding snowstorm this effigy was burned on the flag pole, Mr. Skeel trying in vain to stop the student’s fun.

Thus the strike was broken, and Tom and his chums won, a new Latin instructor being engaged, and Doctor Meredith, though somewhat startled by the curious revolt in his school, managed to get material from it for a paper which he read before a very learned society.

But it was not all unpleasantness and strikes during Tom’s time at the school. He had spreads, he took part in a big football game, and made a sensational run, and he was champion of his class in the annual skating race, though Sam Heller tried to trip him.

Mr. and Mrs. Brokaw Fairfield, Tom’s 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!”