Ruth Fielding Homeward Bound Part 20

"Come, now! No foolishness!" he said angrily. "Do as you are told."

"No. I shall keep the key," she repeated.

"Why, you-well," and he laughed shortly, "I will make sure that you stay in there, my lady."

He went hastily away. Ruth waited in some trepidation. She did not know what would next happen. She wished heartily that she had a loaded weapon. She certainly would have used it had need arisen.

Soon Boldig was back, and he proceeded without another word to her to nail fast the stateroom door as he had nailed the radio room door. When this was completed to his satisfaction, he said bitterly:

"If we feed you at all, Miss Fielding, it will have to be through the port. _Au revoir_!"

It was with vast relief that Ruth heard him depart. The thought of food-or the lack of it-did not at present trouble her mind.

The steady thump and rattle of the pumps by which the fireroom was being cleared of water continued to sound in her ears. She laid aside her coat and hat, for the night was warm. She flashed the pocket lamp upon the face of her traveling clock. It was already nearly midnight.

The thought of sleep was repugnant to her. How could she close her eyes when she did not know what the morning might bring forth? It was not wholly that she feared personal harm. Not that so much. But there was, she felt, a conspiracy on foot that might do much harm to the Allied cause.

These Germans had played a shrewd game to get possession of the _Admiral Pekhard_. It was not for the purpose of sinking the transport s.h.i.+p that they had brought about her abandonment. No, indeed!

As Boldig-the erstwhile "Dykman"-had intimated, nothing like destroying the steams.h.i.+p was the intention of the plotters. The rascals had been very careful not to injure seriously the engines or any other part of the s.h.i.+p's mechanism.

With the fireroom suddenly filling with water after the explosion, the dampened fires caused such a volume of steam that it was no wonder the engineer and his force were driven from their stations. As long as the panic-stricken pa.s.sengers and terrified crew remained aboard the _Admiral Pekhard_, undoubtedly it appeared that a hole had been blown through the outer skin of the s.h.i.+p and that she was on the verge of sinking.

Had Mr. Dowd been on deck and in possession of his senses, Ruth was quite sure that the panic would have been stayed. Captain Hastings was not a big enough man to handle such a situation as the German plotters had brought about. He lost his head completely, although he doubtless had remained on the s.h.i.+p's deck until every other soul (as he supposed) was in the small boats.

The very character of the pompous little skipper had made the success of the Hun plot possible. All that was pa.s.sed now, however. Nothing could be done to avert the successful termination of the conspiracy. Or so it seemed to the girl of the Red Mill, sitting alone and in the darkness of her small stateroom.

After a time she rose and pushed back the blind at her port. She opened the thick, oval gla.s.s window, which was pivoted. She saw the phosph.o.r.escent waves slowly marching past the rolling steams.h.i.+p.

Suddenly she heard voices. They were of two men talking near the rail and near her window as well. One was Boldig. He said in German:

"You have shown yourself to be a good deal of a coward, Guelph. Always fearful of disaster! Look you: If you _will_ that nothing shall balk us, no disaster will arrive. It is the _will_ of the German people that will make them in the end the victors in this war. Remember that, Guelph."

The other muttered something about taking unnecessary chances. Boldig at once declared:

"No chances. Krueger will pick up the U-714. Have no fear. She is one of the newest type of cruiser-submarines. She carries the crew arranged to man this _Admiral Pekhard_. Ha, we will make the Englanders gnash their teeth in rage!"

"We shall hope so," said the other man. Ruth thought it must be the flaxen-haired fellow; but of this she could not be sure.

"This will be one of our greatest coups," went on Boldig. "The cargo awaits us in a friendly port-you know where. We will sail from thence to carry supplies to the submarines that will be sent from time to time from the Belgian bases. She shall be a 'mother s.h.i.+p' indeed, and, lurking out of the lanes of travel, will make long submarine voyages possible.

"Ah, we will do much with this old tub of a steamer to increase the despair of the enemy. Rejoice, Guelph! We shall receive honor and much gold for this."

"Huh!" growled the other, "gold is good, I grant you."

CHAPTER XIX-TOM CAMERON TAKES A HAND

Aside from the two men he had seen shot down upon the after deck of the Zeppelin, Tom Cameron soon made out that the airplane attack upon the larger airs.h.i.+p must have done other damage. He was glad if this was so.

The regrettable fact that he had killed two men would be offset, in his mind, if the bullets of the machine gun had made difficult the sailing of the Zeppelin to London.

He had seen the chipped and dented rail and deck across which the hail of machine-gun bullets had swept. He hoped that there had been done some injury of greater moment than these marks betrayed. And he believed that there was such injury.

If not, why was the Zeppelin limping along the airways so slowly through the fog? The commander of the great machine had been called to the forward deck, and that not merely for the conning of the s.h.i.+p on its course, Tom was sure. Suppose he had been the means, after all, of crippling the Zeppelin?

The thought filled the young American's heart with delight. Much as he was depressed by the death of Ralph Stillinger, the American ace, Tom could not fail to be overjoyed at the thought of setting the Zeppelin back in this attempt to reach England.

The Germans might have to return to their base for repairs. Of course, Tom was a prisoner, and there was not a chance of his getting away; still, he could feel delight because of this possibility that roweled his mind.

He tried to peer through the thick gla.s.s of the window in the forward closet of the Zeppelin cabin. Mistily he saw the hairy-coated Germans moving about on the forward deck. He could not recognize the _ober-leutnant_ who seemed to be in command of the s.h.i.+p; but he saw that several of the men were at work repairing some of the wire stays that had been broken.

As the fog partially cleared for a moment, he was enabled to make out a box of a house far forward on this first deck. It was probably where the steering gear was located. Just where the motors and engines were boxed he did not know. A fellow in that pilot-house-if such it was-might do something of moment, he told himself. If he could once get there, Tom Cameron thought, he would make it impossible for the Zeppelin ever to reach England, unless it drifted there by accident.

It was a rather dispiriting situation, however, to be locked in this narrow closet. He had already tried the door and found that it was secure. Besides, anybody on the deck, by coming close to the window, could look in and see if he was still imprisoned.

An hour pa.s.sed, then another. The Zeppelin's speed was not increased, nor did he see the commander in all the time.

He believed the airs.h.i.+p must have drifted out over the sea.

Although the cabin arrangements on the Zeppelin made the place where Tom Cameron was confined almost soundproof, the jar and rumble of the s.h.i.+p's powerful motors were audible. Now there grew upon his hearing another sound. It was a note deeper than that of the motors, and of an organ-like timber. A continuous current of noise, rather pleasant than otherwise, was this new sound. He could not at first understand what it meant.

The fog was still thick about the airs.h.i.+p. He believed they had descended several thousand feet. It was now close to mid-forenoon, and as a usual thing the fog would have disappeared by this hour over the land.

It must be that the Zeppelin had reached the sea. Whatever material injury she had suffered, the commander had by no means given up his intention of following out his orders to reach the English coast.

It was at this point in his ruminations that Tom suddenly became possessed of a new idea-an explanation of the organ-like sound he heard.

It was the surf on the coast! The s.h.i.+p must be drifting over the French coastline, and the sound of the surf breaking on the rocks was the sound he heard.

Tom possessed a good memory, and he had not been studying maps of the Western Front daily for nothing. He knew, very well indeed, the country over which he had flown with poor Ralph Stillinger.

He had located to a nicety the spot where they mounted into the fog-cloud to escape the German pursuit-planes. Then had come the discovery of the Zeppelin beneath, and the catastrophe that had followed.

The Zeppelin had been sailing seaward, and was near the coast at the time Tom had so thrillingly boarded it; and he was sure that if it had changed its course, this change had been to the southwestward. It was following the French coast, rather than drifting over Belgium.

These ruminations were scarcely to the point, however; Tom desired to do something, not to remain inactive.

But the time did not seem propitious. He dared not attempt breaking out of his prison. And although he still had his automatic pistol, he would be foolish to try to fight this whole German crew.

He was startled from his reverie by the unlocking of the door and the odor of warm food. Nor was it "bully beef" or beans, the two staples that gladden the hearts of the American soldier.

A meek-looking German private entered with a steaming tureen of ragout, or stew, a plate of dark bread, and a mug of hot drink. He bowed to Tom very ceremoniously and placed the tray on the couch.

"Der gomblements of der commander," he said, gutturally, and backed out of the narrow doorway.

"He's all right, your commander!" exclaimed Tom impulsively, making for the fare with all the zest of good appet.i.te.