They went up to the open deck to meet the blackest night Ruth Fielding
ever remembered to have seen. The impenetrable clouds seemed to hover
just above the masts of the abandoned steamship.
The night air aided Mr. Dowd to recover his poise. It was plain that the
narcotic influence of the drink the doctor had given him still affected
his brain more than did the blow he had suffered in falling. Soon his
mind was quite clear and his manner the same as usual.
"I am afraid, as you say, Miss Fielding, that we are alone on the ship.
I do not hear a sound," he said.
"But you do not think the ship is sinking, do you, Mr. Dowd?" Ruth
asked.
"She does not roll as though she was waterlogged in any degree. Nor can
I see that she has any pitch, either to bow or stern. If the explosion
was amidships--and you say it was in the fireroom--I doubt if a hole torn
in the outside of the ship would sink her.
"You see, the engine room and boilers are shut off from the rest of the
ship, both fore and aft, by water-tight bulkheads. If these were closed
when the accident occurred, or soon after, that middle compartment might
fill--up to a certain point--and that would be all. She could not take in
enough water to sink her by such means."
"But one would think Captain Hastings--or the engineer--or somebody--would
have discovered the truth," Ruth said, in doubt.
"You'd think so," admitted Mr. Dowd. "But there was a great deal of
excitement, without doubt. If the water rushed in and put out the fires,
and the place filled with steam, until that steam cleared the situation
must have looked much worse than it really was.
"You see the ship was abandoned so quickly, that I doubt if the
engineers could have learned just how serious the danger was. They must
all have been panic-stricken."
"Your Captain Hastings as well," said Ruth scornfully.
"I am afraid so," admitted the chief officer. "But the captain must have
been misled by the under officers. I do not believe he showed the white
feather. He had the responsibility of the passengers--especially of those
wounded--on his mind. We must give him credit for making a clean
get-away," and in the lantern-light Ruth saw that he smiled.
"I hope they are all safe," she responded reflectively. "The poor
things! To have to drift about in open boats all night!"
"We are not far from land, of course," said Mr. Dowd. "And it is a
wonder that one of the patrol boats has not crossed our track. Hold on!"
"Yes?" said the startled young woman.
"What about the radio? Didn't they send a wireless? Couldn't they have
called for help?"
"Oh, I never thought of the wireless at all," Ruth confessed. "And I am
sure it was not used at first--not while I was on deck."
"Strange! With two operators--Rollife and an assistant--how could they
neglect such a chance?"
"I heard nothing about it," repeated Ruth.
"Come on. Let's look and see," said the chief officer of the steamship.
"Something is dead wrong here. Sparks surely would not have left his
post unless the radio had completely broken down. Why, if we could
manipulate the radio we'd call for help now--you and I, Miss Fielding."
He led the way swiftly along the deck. The radio station had been built
into the forward house, for the _Admiral Pekhard_ was an old steamship,
her keel having been laid long before Marconi made his dream come true.
The staff from which the antennae were strung shot up into the darkness
farther than they could well see. There was a single small window far up
on either side of the house for circulation of air only. There seemed to
be no life about the radio room.
Mr. Dowd tried the door. It did not yield. He shook it--or tried
to--crying:
"Sparks! Sparks! Hey! Where are you?"
He was answered by a voice from inside the radio room. It was not a
pleasant voice, and the words it first uttered were not polite, to say
the least. The man inside ended by demanding:
"What in the name of Mike was meant by locking me into this room?"
"Great Land!" gasped Dowd. "It's Rollife himself."
"And you know darned well it's Rollife," pursued the radio man. "Let me
come out!" and he went on to roll out threats that certainly were not
meant for Ruth's ears.
But to let the man out of his prison was not easy. Dowd found that two
long spikes had been driven through the door and frame above and below
the doorknob. He was some time in getting Rollife to listen to this
explanation.
"Who is it? Dowd?" demanded the angry radio man at last.
"Yes," replied the first officer. "Who did this?"
Whoever it was who pinned the man into the room was threatened with a
good many unpleasant happenings during the next few moments. Finally
Dowd's voice penetrated to the operator's ears again.
"Hold your horses! There's a lady here. How shall I get you out,
Sparks?"
"I don't give a hang _how_ you do it," snarled the other. "But I want
you to do it mighty quick--and then lead me to the man who nailed me up."
"Wait," said Dowd. "I'll get a screwdriver and take off the hinges of
the door. Then you can push outwards."
"What the deuce has happened, anyway?" demanded Rollife, as the first
officer of the _Admiral Pekhard_ started away.
Ruth thought she would better answer before the imprisoned radio man
broke out afresh. She told him simply what had happened, and why it had
happened, as she presumed.
"It was Dykman nailed me up--the cur!" growled the radio man. "Then he
monkeyed with the wires outside there. He put the radio out of
commission, all right. That was before the explosion. My door was nailed
almost on the very minute the old ship was hit. But why doesn't she
sink?"
"I do not believe she is going to sink, Mr. Rollife," said Ruth. "Oh, if
you could only repair your aerial wires, you might call for help!"
"Let me out of here," growled the radio operator, "and I'll find some
way of sending an S O S--don't fear!"
Mr. Dowd came back from the engine room where he had secured a
screwdriver. He set to work removing the screws from the hinges of the
radio room door.
"I do not believe that the explosion caused any serious damage to the
ship itself," said he. "The fireroom is full of water; but it looks to
me as though a seacock had been opened. I think the explosion was on the
inside--a bomb thrown into one of the fires, perhaps."
"What's that you say?" demanded Rollife, from inside the room. "No
likelihood of the old tub sinking?"
"Not at all! Not at all!"
"Well, I certainly am relieved," said the radio man. "I've been
conjuring up all kinds of horrors in here."
"Huh!" exploded Dowd. "You were asleep till I pounded on the door."
"Oh, well, maybe I lost myself for a moment," confessed Rollife.
"Anyhow, I made up my mind I was done for when I could make nobody
listen to me after my door was nailed. They certainly had it in for me."
"Where was your assistant?" Dowd asked.
"That fellow is a squarehead," growled the radio man. "I suspected him
from the start. Why, he couldn't talk American without saying 'already
yet.' A Hun, sure as shooting."
That Rollife himself came from the United States there could be no
doubt. His speech fully betrayed his nationality.
"He never came near me," he went on, speaking of his assistant. "He was
some 'ham,' anyway! Graduate of one of these correspondence schools of
telegraphy, I guess. His Morse was enough to drive one mad. Let me out,
Dowd. I'll fix up those aerials and call somebody to our help in short
order."
The first officer had accomplished his purpose. The screws were out of
the hinges. Rollife was a big, strong fellow, and he drove his shoulder
against the door with sufficient force the first time to push it outward
at the back.
Then Mr. Dowd took hold of the edge of the door, and together they
worked out the long nails and threw the useless door on the deck.
Rollife came out into the light of the lantern which Ruth held at one
side. He was a big, fresh-faced man with a square jaw and a direct
glance.
Ruth was glad to see him. He was such another man as the first officer
of the steamship. If she had to be aboard an abandoned craft in such an
emergency as this, she was glad that her companions were just such men
as these two. She felt that they were resourceful and trustworthy.
Her mind, however, was by no means at ease. Mr. Dowd and Mr. Rollife
were much more cheerful than Ruth. And it was not because they were any
more courageous than the girl of the Red Mill. But Ruth thought of
something that did not seem to have made any impression on the men's
minds.
What had been the intention of the conspirators in abandoning the ship
with the innocent members of her company? What would naturally be their
expectation regarding the _Admiral Pekhard_, if she had not been put in
condition to sink? If it was a German plot, surely the plotters did not
intend to leave the steamship to drift, unharmed, until some patrol boat
picked her up.
And the plotters knew the three castaways were on the vessel. What of
the chief officer, the radio man, and Ruth herself? They had all been
left for some purpose, that was sure. What was it?
Mr. Dowd and she had been allowed their freedom. Only Rollife had been
locked up. And the plotters must have known that in time Ruth or Dowd
would have found means of releasing the radio man. Once released, it was
more than probable Rollife would be able to discover what had been done
to the aerials and repair them. It was quite sure that, before morning,
those abandoned on the _Admiral Pekhard_ would be able to send into the
air an S O S for help.
There was something that she could not understand--something back of, and
deeper, than the surface-work of the plotters. Perhaps that explosion in
the fireroom had not been meant to injure the ship seriously. It was
merely meant (as it did) to create panic.
It caused a situation serious enough to alarm the captain and all
aboard. It seemed that all they could do was to flee from a ship that
threatened to sink.
This situation might have been just what the plotters intended to
create; because they would not wish to remain on the steamship when
actual destruction was coming upon her!
They had escaped with the other members of the ship's company. Yet the
steamship drifted in apparent safety. Was there something much more
tragic threatening the _Admiral Pekhard_?