By making inquiries Dick learned that the steamer was expected to reach Honolulu inside of two weeks, if the weather was not too, bad.  From Honolulu they could get passage to San Francisco on the mail steamer, the trip lasting exactly seven days.

“We’ll have to get some money first,” said Tom.  “And we can’t cable for it, either,” he went on, for the cable to the Hawaiian Islands from the United States had not yet been laid.

“Let us hope that we will see some ship that will take us back,” said Sam.

Day after day they watched eagerly for a passing sail.  But though they sighted four vessels and hailed them, not one was bound for the United States, outside of a whaler, and that craft intended to stay out at least three months longer before making for port.

“We are booked for this trip, and no mistake,” sighed Tom.  “Well, since that is so, let us make the best of it.”

The Tacoma was heavily laden, and though the storm cleared away and the Pacific Ocean became moderately calm, she made but slow progress.

“Our boilers are not in the best of condition,” said Captain Fairleigh.

“I trust there is no danger of their blowing up,” returned Dick.

“Not if we don’t force them too much.”

It had been arranged that the boys and girls should pay a fair price for the trip to Honolulu, the money to, be sent to the captain of the Tacoma later on.  As for old Jerry, he signed articles to work his passage to the Hawaiian Islands and back again.  As Captain Fairleigh was rather short of hands he was glad to have the old sailor join his crew.

The days slipped by, and, having recovered from the effects of the storm, the Rover boys became as light hearted as ever.  Tom was particularly full of pranks.

“No use of crying over spilt milk,” he declared.  “Let us be thankful the pitcher wasn’t broken, or, in other words, that we are not at this moment at the bottom of the Pacific.”

“Right you are,” replied Sam.

There was an old piano on board, and the boys and girls often amused themselves at this, singing and playing.  As there were no other passengers, they had the freedom of the ship.

“This would be real jolly,” said Tom, “if it wasn’t that the folks at home must be worried,” and then he began to sing, for he really could not be sad: 

“A life on the ocean wave,
  A home on the rolling deep,
A house in a watery cave—­
  Where I might rest in sleep!”

“Did you ever hear such a song?” cried Nellie, and Tom went on: 

“The boy stood on the burning deck,
  Munching apples by the peck;
The captain yelled, he stood stock-still,
  For of those apples he wanted his fill!”

“Tom Rover!” burst out Dora.  “I believe you would sing at your own funeral!” And Tom continued gayly: 

“Sailing, sailing, over the bounding main,
  For many a stormy wind shall blow,
Ere the Rovers get home again!”