At ten minutes or so before noon a smart little sub-officer came to
Ruth's stateroom and asked her to accompany him to the engine-room,
amidships. As a last thought the girl took a chiffon veil with her, and
before she stepped into the quarters where all the shiny machinery was,
she threw the veil over her head and face. It had suddenly been
impressed on her mind that she did not care to have the man she had
taken for a German identify her, even if she did him.
She found both Mr. Dowd and the commander of the steamship on this deck.
The first officer came to Ruth in rather an apologetic way.
"I did not know," he said gently, "that I was getting you into any
trouble when I repeated what you told me to Captain Hastings. This is my
very first voyage with him--and, believe me, it shall be my last!"
His eyes sparkled, and it was evident that he had found the pompous
little commander much to his distaste. The captain did not seek to speak
to Ruth at all. He stood at one side as the stokers filed in from
forward, ready to relieve those working in the fireroom below.
"Do you see him in that line, Miss Fielding?" whispered the first
officer.
She scrutinized the men carefully. Early that morning she had had plenty
of opportunity to get the appearance of the German who spoke to Irma
Lentz photographed on her mind, and she knew at first glance that he was
not in this group.
However, she took her time and scrutinized them all carefully. There was
not a single flaxen-haired man among them, and nobody that in the least
seemed like the man she had in mind.
"No," she said to Mr. Dowd. "He is not here."
"Wait till the others come up. There! The boatswain pipes."
The shrill whistle started the waiting stokers down the ladder into the
stoke-hole. In a minute or two a red, sweating, ashes-streaked face
appeared as the first of the watch relieved came up into the engine
room. This was not the man Ruth looked for.
One after another the men appeared--Irish, Swede, Dane, negro, and
nondescript; but never a German. And not one of the fellows looked at
all like the man Ruth expected to see. Dowd gazed upon her
questioningly. Ruth slowly shook her head.
"Any more firemen or coal passers down there, boy?" Dowd asked the negro
stoker.
"No, suh! Ain't none of de watch lef' behind," declared the man, as he
followed his mates forward.
"Well, are you satisfied?" snapped the thin voice of Captain Hastings.
"Not altogether," Ruth bravely retorted. "It might be that the man was
not a stoker. I only thought so because the officer who interrupted the
conversation I overheard seemed to consider him a stoker. He sent the
man off that part of the deck."
"What officer?" demanded the captain, doubtfully. "An officer of the
ship? One of my officers?"
"Yes, sir."
"Ha, you want to examine my officers, then, I presume?"
"Not at all," Ruth said coldly. "I am not taking any pleasure in this
investigation, I assure you."
"It will be easy enough to find the officer whom Miss Fielding refers
to," said Mr. Dowd, interposing before Captain Hastings could speak
again. "I know who was on duty at that hour this morning. It will be
easily discovered who the officer is. And if he remembers the man on
deck----"
"Ah--yes--if he _does_," said Captain Hastings in his very nastiest way.
Ruth's cheeks flamed again. Mr. Dowd placed a gentle hand upon her
sleeve.
"Never mind that oaf," he whispered. "He doesn't know how to behave
himself. How he ever got command of a ship like this--well, it shows to
what straits we have come in this wartime. Do you mind meeting me later
abaft the stacks on deck? I will bring the men, one of whom I think may
be the chap we are looking for. Of course he will remember if he drove a
seaman or a stoker off the after deck this morning."
Ruth did not see how she could refuse the respectful and sensible first
officer, but she certainly was angry with Captain Hastings and she swept
by him to the stairway without giving him another glance.
"It's all bosh!" she heard him say to Mr. Dowd, as she started for the
open deck.
Her dignity was hurt, as well as her indignation aroused. She was not in
the habit of having her word doubted; and it seemed that Captain
Hastings certainly did consider that there was reason for thinking her
untruthful. She was more than sorry that she had taken the Red Cross
man's advice and brought this matter to the attention of Mr. Dowd in the
first place.
Yet the first officer was her friend. She could see that. He did not
intend to let the matter rest at a point where Captain Hastings would
have any reason for intimating that Ruth had not been exact in her
statements of fact.
Of course, the girl of the Red Mill had not taken so close a look at the
ship's officer who had driven the stoker off the deck, as she had at the
stoker himself. But she was quite confident she would know him. She had
not seen him since, that was sure.
After half an hour or so Mr. Dowd came to the place where she sat
sheltered from the stiff breeze that was blowing, with a uniformed man
in toll. It was not the officer whom she had seen early in the morning.
"I quite remember seeing Miss Fielding on deck at dawn," said the young
fellow politely. "But I do not remember seeing any of the crew except
those at work scrubbing down."
"This was on the starboard run, Miss Fielding?" suggested Mr. Dowd.
"Yes, sir. It was right yonder," and she pointed to the spot in
question.
"It must be Dykman, then, you wish to see, Mr. Dowd," said the under
officer, saluting. "Shall I send him here, sir?"
"If you will," Dowd said, and remained himself to talk pleasantly to the
American girl.
After a time another man in uniform approached the spot. He was not a
young man; yet he was smooth-faced, ruddy, and had a smart way about
him. But his countenance was lined and there was a small scar just below
his eye on one cheek.
"Mr. Dykman, Miss Fielding," Dowd said. "Is Mr. Dykman the officer whom
you saw, Miss Fielding?"
Dykman bowed with a military manner. Ruth eyed him quietly. He did not
look like an Englishman, that was sure.
"This is the officer I saw this morning," she said, confidently. She
felt that she could not be mistaken, although she had not noted his
manner and countenance so directly at the time indicated. He looked
surprised but said nothing in rejoinder, glancing at Mr. Dowd, instead,
for an explanation.
"We are trying," said the first officer, "to identify a man--one of the
crew--who was out of place on the deck here this morning during your
watch, Mr. Dykman. About what time was it, Miss Fielding?"
"The sun was just coming up," she said, watching Dykman's face.
"There were various members of the deck watch here then, sir," Dykman
said respectfully. "We were washing decks."
"You came past here," Ruth said quietly, "and admonished the man for
standing here. You told him he had no business aft."
The man wagged his head slowly and showed no remembrance of the incident
by his expression of countenance. His eyes, she saw, were hard, and
round, and blue.
"You intimated that he was a stoker," Ruth continued, with quite as much
confidence as before.
Indeed, the more doubt seemed cast upon her statement the more confident
she became. She could not understand why this man denied knowledge of
the incident, unless----
She glanced at Dowd. He was frowning and had reddened. But he was not
looking at her. He was looking at Dykman.
"Well, sir?" he snapped suddenly.
"No, sir. I do not remember the occurrence," the sub-officer said
respectfully but with a finality there could be no mistaking.
"That will do, then," said Mr. Dowd, and waved his hand in dismissal.
Dykman bowed again and marched away. Ruth watched the face of the first
officer closely. Had he shown the least suspicion of her she would have
said no more. But, instead, he looked at her frankly now that the
sub-officer had gone, and demanded angrily:
"Now, what do you suppose that means? Are you positive you have
identified Dykman?"
"He was the man who spoke to the stoker--yes."
"Then why the--ahem! Well! Why should he deny it?"
"It seems to clinch my argument," Ruth said. "There is something
underhanded going on--some plot--some mystery. This Dykman must be in it."
"By Jove!"
"Have you known the man long?"
"He is a new member of the ship's company--as I am," admitted Dowd.
"He may be 'Boldig,'" said Ruth, smiling faintly.
"I will find out what is known of him," the first officer promised.
"Meanwhile do you think you would like to look over the seamen and other
members of the crew?"
"I do not think there would be any use in my doing so--not at present.
They probably know what we are after and the flaxen-haired man will
remain hidden. The boat is large."
"True," Dowd agreed thoughtfully. "And as we do not know his name it
would be difficult to find him on the ship's roster. Besides, I do not
believe that Captain Hastings would allow further search. You see what
kind of a man he is, Miss Fielding."
"Make no excuse, Mr. Dowd," she said hastily. "You have done all you
can. I am sorry I started this in the first place. I merely considered
it my duty to do so."
"I quite appreciate your attitude," he said, bowing over her hand. "And
I think you did right. There is something on foot that must be
investigated, Captain Hastings, or no Captain Hastings!"
He went away abruptly, and Ruth had time to think it over. She did not
fancy the situation at all.