Ruth Fielding Homeward Bound; A Red Cross Worker's Ocean Perils

“Surely we can try, Mr. Dowd! There is another thing: the deck guns! Had you thought of them?”

“My goodness, no!” admitted the first officer.

“If we could slue around one of those guns, a single shot might sink the boat off there. If they are enemies, I mean.”

“Now you have suggested something, Miss Fielding! Wait! Let me have your torch. I will take a look at the guns.”

He ran along the deck to the forward gun. After a minute there he ran back to the stern, but kept to the runway on the opposite side of the deck as he passed the girl of the Red Mill. She waited in great impatience for his return.

And when he came she saw that something was decidedly wrong. He wagged his head despairingly.

“No use,” he said. “Those fellows were sharper than one would think. The breech-block of each gun is missing.”

“That light is drawing close, Mr. Dowd!” Ruth exclaimed. “Get the pistols you spoke of – do!”

But first Dowd called to the radio man up above them: “Hi, Sparks, see that boat coming?”

“What boat?” demanded the other, stopping his work for the moment. Then he saw the light. “Holy heavens! what’s that?”

“One of the boats coming back – and not with friends,” said Dowd.

“Let me get these wires welded and I’ll show ’em!” rejoined Rollife. “I’ll send a call – ”

At the moment the sudden explosion of a motor engine exhaust startled them. It was no rowboat advancing toward the Admiral Pekhard. Probably its crew had been rowing quietly so as not to startle those left aboard the ship.

“The pistols, Mr. Dowd!” begged Ruth again.

The first officer departed on a run. Rollife kept at his work with a running commentary of his opinion of the scoundrels who were approaching. Suddenly a rifle rang out from the coming launch.

“Ahoy! Ahoy the steamer!” shouted a voice. “We see your light, and we’ll shoot at it if you don’t douse it. Quick, now!”

Another rifle bullet whistled over the head of the radio man. Ruth removed her thumb from the electric torch switch instantly. But Rollife refused at first to be driven.

The next moment, however, a bullet crashed into the lantern on the roof of the radio house. The flame was snuffed out and the radio man was feign to slide down from his exposed position.

Dowd came running from the cabin with the pistols. He gave one to Ruth and another to Rollife. The latter stepped out from the shelter of the house and drew bead on the lamp in the approaching launch. Ruth heard the chatter of the weapon’s hammer – but not a shot was fired!

“Great guns, Dowd!” shouted the radio man, exasperated. “This gat isn’t loaded.”

“Neither is mine!” exclaimed Ruth, who had made a quick examination in the darkness.

“Oh, my soul!” groaned the first officer. “I got the wrong weapons!”

“And no more clips of cartridges? Well, you – ”

There was no use finishing his opinion of Dowd’s uselessness. The motor boat shot alongside under increased speed. There was a slanting bump, a grappling iron flew over the rail and caught, and the next moment a man swarmed up the rope, threw his leg over the rail, and then his head and face appeared.

Ruth in her excitement pressed the switch of her electric torch. The ray of light shot almost directly into the eyes of the first boarder. He was the flaxen-haired man – the man she believed she had seen hiding in the small motor boat before the explosion in the steamer’s fire room.

CHAPTER XVIII – THE CONSPIRACY LAID BARE

It was too late then for Mr. Dowd to correct his mistake. In the dark he had gone to the wrong closet in the captain’s chart room. There were loaded small arms of several kinds in one closet, while in the other were stored spare arms that were not oiled and loaded and ready for use.

The flaxen-haired man swarmed over the rail. He had a pistol in his hand. A moment later another man came up the ladder that had been put over the rail when the captain’s launch was manned for departure. This second man bore a powerful electric lamp.

“Drop that torch and your guns!” he commanded sharply. “Put up your hands!”

“It’s Dykman!” muttered Mr. Dowd. “The cut-throat villain!”

But he obeyed the command. So did Rollife. And could Ruth Fielding do otherwise? They stood in line with their hands in the air, palms outward. Dykman crossed the deck with his lamp warily, while the flaxen-haired man held the three under the muzzle of his pistol.

“What do you mean by such actions, Dykman?” demanded Dowd angrily.

“I’ll let you guess that, old man,” said the other. “But I advise you to do your guessing to yourself. We are in no mood to listen to you.”

Then he shot a question at the radio man: “Did you get those wires fixed?”

“Hanged if I don’t wish I hadn’t touched ’em,” growled the radio man.

“You’ve sent no message, then?”

Rollife shook his head.

“All right. Krueger!” shouted Dykman, who seemed to be in command of the traitors.

“I thought so!” muttered Rollife. “That squarehead never did look right to me.”

Several other men as well as Krueger came up the ladder. Their dress proclaimed them seamen or stokers. Ruth wondered if Miss Lentz was with them.

She began to feel fearful for herself. What would these rough men do, now they had possession of the ship? And what would they do to her? That was the principal query in her mind. Dykman merely patted the pockets of Dowd and Rollife to make sure they had no other arms. He gave Ruth slight attention at the moment.

“I’ll have to lock you fellows in a stateroom,” Dykman said coolly. “Can’t have you fooling around the ship. You’ll both be taken home in time and held as war prisoners.”

“By ‘home’ I suppose you mean Germany!” snorted Rollife.

“That is exactly what I mean.”

“But man!” exclaimed Dowd, “you don’t expect to get this ship through the blockade? And you’ve got to repair the damage your explosion did, too.”

“Don’t worry,” grinned Dykman. “She’s not damaged much. We opened seacocks – ”

“Oh, yes, I found that out,” admitted Dowd. “And I closed them.”

“Thanks,” said the other coolly. “So much trouble saved us. We’ll get to work at the pumps. We ought to be clear of the water by morning. Only one boiler is injured. We can hobble along with the use of the other boilers, I think.”

“Man, but you have the brass!” exclaimed Dowd. “Some of these destroyers will catch you, sure.”

“We’ll see about that,” grumbled Dykman. “We’ll put you two men where you will be able to do no harm, at least.”