As the minutes passed, lengthening into first the quarter and then the
half hour, Ruth Fielding's impatience grew. The steward did not come
back to the deck. Nor did Chief Officer Dowd return any reply to her
note.
The situation became more and more irksome for the girl of the Red Mill.
She believed that Irma Lentz considered her a personal enemy. Perhaps
the woman had influence over the steward with whom the note to Mr. Dowd
had been entrusted. Ruth began to feel that she was surrounded by spies,
and that serious trouble would break out upon the _Admiral Pekhard_
within a short time.
If she left her seat to search for Mr. Dowd, or to confer with anybody
else, the man she believed was hiding in the motor boat not ten yards
from her chair might escape. Who he was she could only suspect. Why he
was hiding there was quite beyond her imagination.
It was Captain Hastings who appeared first upon the open deck. He did
not go immediately to the bridge, nor did he bow right and left to the
ladies as was usually his custom. He came directly past Ruth and stared
at her through his little squinting eyes in no friendly fashion. Ruth
did not speak to him.
Captain Hastings took up a position by the rail not twenty yards from
the girl's chair. Several passengers gathered about him; but she saw
that the commander of the _Admiral Pekhard_ did not lose sight of her.
He was there for a purpose--that was sure.
She wondered if the steward, playing her false, had given her note
addressed to Mr. Dowd to Captain Hastings? She felt that apprehension
nearly all feel when "something is about to happen." In fact, she had
never felt more uncomfortable mentally in her life than at that moment.
The sun was going down now, for she had spent most of the afternoon
since luncheon in her chair. The watches had been changed long since and
she knew that on a sailing vessel this would be the second dog watch.
Some of the crew were at supper. The bugle for the first-cabin call to
dinner would soon sound.
She desired to go to her stateroom to freshen her toilet for dinner;
yet, should she desert her post? Was Mr. Dowd merely delayed in coming
to answer her note? Should she take the bull by the horns and tell
Captain Hastings himself of the presence of the stowaway in the motor
boat?
In this hesitating frame of mind she lingered for some time. Although
the sea was calm, there was a haze being drawn over the sky as the sun
disappeared below the western rim of the ocean, and it bade fair to be a
dark evening. The wind whistled shrilly through the wire stays. There
was a foreboding atmosphere, it seemed to Ruth Fielding, about the great
steamship.
A dull explosion sounded from somewhere deep in the hold of the _Admiral
Pekhard_. The ship trembled from truck to keelson. Screams of frightened
passengers instantly broke out. Captain Hastings, at the rail, whirled
to look toward the engine-room companionway.
Out of this door, just ahead of a volume of smoke or steam, dashed one
of his officers. Ruth, who had got out of the reclining chair as quickly
as her injured shoulder would allow, saw that this excited man was
Dykman.
"An explosion in the boiler room, sir!" he cried, loud enough for
everybody in the vicinity to hear him. "The engines are out of
commission and I think the ship is sinking."
It seemed as though any ship's officer with good sense would have told
the commander privately of the catastrophe. But immediately the full
nature of the disaster was made known to the excited and terrified
passengers.
"My heavens, Dykman!" squealed Captain Hastings, "you don't mean to say
it is a torpedo? We've seen no periscope."
"I don't know what it is; but the whole place is full of steam and
boiling water. We could not see the entire extent of the damage; but the
water----"
He intimated that the water was coming in from the outside. Then,
suddenly, the bugles and bells began, all over the ship, to signal the
command for "stations." The engines had stopped and the steamship began
to rock a little, for there was quite a swell on. Some of the passengers
began screaming again. They thought the _Admiral Pekhard_ was already
going down.
The tramp of men running along the decks, the shouts of the officers,
and the continued screaming of some of the passengers created such a
pandemonium that Ruth was confused. She knew that Captain Hastings had
leaped to the bridge ladder and was now giving orders through a trumpet
regarding the preparation of the boats for lowering.
One gang of men was unlashing the large motor boat and carrying davit
ropes to it. That was the captain's boat, and it would hold at least
forty of the ship's company.
Ruth began to wonder what boat she would go in. She realized that she
was quite alone--that there was nobody to aid her. Tom had foreseen this.
He had wished to accompany her across the ocean to be able to aid her if
necessity arose.
And here was necessity!
Ruth saw some of the passengers running below, and was reminded that she
was not at all prepared to get into an open boat and drift about the sea
until rescued. There were several important papers and valuables in her
stateroom, too. She moved toward the first cabin entrance.
Stewards were bringing the helpless wounded up to the deck on
stretchers. No matter how small Ruth's opinion might be of Captain
Hastings as a man, he seemed neglecting no essential matter now that his
ship was in danger.
From the bridge he directed the filling and lowering of the first boats.
He ordered the crew and stokers who came pouring from below, to stand by
their respective boats, but not to lower them until word was given. Each
officer was in his place. The stewards were evacuating the wounded as
fast as possible and were to see that every passenger came on deck.
But Ruth did not see Mr. Dowd. The Chief Officer, who should have had a
prominent part in this work, had not appeared. The girl went below,
wondering about this.
As she approached her stateroom, Irma Lentz, well-coated and bearing two
handbags, appeared from her stateroom. The black-eyed woman did not seem
very much disturbed by the situation. She even stopped to speak to Ruth.
"Ah-h!" she exclaimed in a low tone. "Your friend, Mr. Dowd, fell down
the after companionway and is hurt. They took him to his room. Perhaps
you would like to know," and she laughed as she passed swiftly on toward
the open deck.
The information terrified Ruth. For the first time since the explosion
in the boiler room, the girl of the Red Mill considered the possibility
of this all being a plot to wreck the _Admiral Pekhard_--a plot among
some of the ship's company, both passengers and crew!
The mystery of which she had caught a single thread that morning at dawn
when she had observed this black-eyed woman talking with the
German-looking seaman, or stoker, was now divulged.
These people--Irma Lentz, the flaxen-haired man, Dykman (if he was one of
the plotters) and perhaps others, had brought them all to this perilous
situation. The German conspirators had, after all, been willing to risk
their own lives in an attempt to sink the British ship.
She was but one day from port; it was not improbable that the ship's
company would reach land in comparative safety. The two motor boats
could tow the lifeboats, and if a storm did not arise they might all
reach either the English or the French coast in safety.
Ruth was so disturbed by Irma Lentz's statement that she did not
immediately turn toward her own room. She knew where Mr. Dowd's cabin
was, and she hurried toward it.
It seemed sinister that the chief officer should have been injured just
as she had sent word to him about the stowaway in the small motor boat.
Ruth was convinced, without further evidence, that her discovery and
attempt to reach Mr. Dowd with the information had caused his injury and
had hastened the explosion.
She did not believe the latter was caused by a torpedo from a lurking
submarine. The conspirators aboard the _Admiral Pekhard_ had
deliberately brought about the catastrophe.
And it smote her, too, that Mr. Dowd might now be neglected in his
cabin. When the passengers and crew left in the small boats, the first
officer would, perhaps, be lying helpless in his berth.
She reached the door of the officer's cabin, and knocked upon the panel.
There was nobody in sight in this passage and she heard no movement
inside the first officer's room. Again she knocked.
At last there was a stirring inside. A voice mumbled:
"Yes? Yes? Eight bells? I will be right up."
"Mr. Dowd! Mr. Dowd!" Ruth called. "Wake up! The ship is sinking!"
"I'll be right with you, boy," said the officer, more briskly, but
evidently not altogether himself.
"This is Ruth Fielding, Mr. Dowd!" cried the girl, hammering again on
the door. "Do you need help? Come on deck quickly. The ship is sinking!"
"What's _that_?"
He was evidently aroused now. The door was snapped open and he appeared
at the aperture just as he had risen from his berth--in shirt and
trousers. His head was bandaged as though he wore a turban.
"What is that you say, Miss Fielding?" he repeated.
"Come quickly, Mr. Dowd!" she begged. "The ship is sinking. Those people
have blown it up."
"Then there was something wrong!" cried the officer. "Did--did Captain
Hastings come to you? I--I gave him your note after I fell----"
"He did nothing but wait until those people did their worst," declared
Ruth angrily. "It is too late to talk about it now. Hurry!" and she
turned away to seek her own stateroom.
It was fast growing dark outside. There were no lights turned on along
the saloon deck. She saw not a soul as she hurried to her room.
Everybody--even the stewards and officers--seemed to have got out upon the
upper deck. She heard much noise there and believed some of the boats
were being lowered.
She unlocked her stateroom door and entered. When she tried to turn on
the electric light, she found that the wires were dead. Of course, if
the boilers were blown up, the electric generating motors would stop as
well as the steam engines. The ship would be in darkness.
She hastily scrambled such valuables as she could find into her toilet
bag. Her money and papers she stowed away inside her dress. They were
wrapped in oilskin, if she should be wet. Ruth was cool enough. She
considered all possibilities at this time of emergency.
At least she considered all possibilities but one. That never for a
moment entered her mind.
It was true that while she dressed more warmly and secured a blanket
from her berth to wrap around herself over her coat, she was aware that
the noise on the upper deck had ceased. But she did not realize the
significance of this.
Being all alone, she had much difficulty in arraying herself as she
wished. Her shoulder was stiff and she could not use her left arm very
much without causing the shoulder to hurt excruciatingly. So she was
long in getting out of the room again.
Just as she did so she heard a man shouting up the passage:
"Anybody here? Get out on deck! Last call! The boats are leaving!"
The shout really startled Ruth. She had no idea there was any chance of
her being left behind. She left her stateroom door open and started to
run through the narrow corridor.
Not six feet from the door she tripped over something. It was a cord
stretched taut across the passage, fastened at a height of about a foot
from the deck!
Helplessly, with her hands full and the blanket over her right arm, Ruth
pitched forward on her face. She struck her head on the deck with
sufficient force to cause unconsciousness. With a single groan she
rolled over on her back and lay still.