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

“They haven’t had as much as you, Miss. Mr. Boldig said they could stand a little fasting, anyway. We haven’t had any decent grub ourselves.”

“I could cook for you!” Ruth cried eagerly. “I’ll do it, too, if you men want me to. I’d rather do that than be shut up here all the time. And – then – I’d like a change from ham and eggs,” and she laughed.

“Yes, ma’am. I s’pected you would. But I don’t see – ”

“You tell the other men what I say – that I would cook for you all if I were let out of here. But I must be guaranteed that you will not harm me if I do this.”

“Who’d want to harm you, Miss?” returned the man, with some sharpness.

“I don’t know that anybody would. I am sure if I worked for you, and cooked for you, you would not see any of your mates hurt me?”

“No, indeed, Miss,” said the fellow warmly. “Nor anybody else. I’ll tell the other boys. And I’ll speak to Mr. Boldig – ”

“Send him here,” interrupted Ruth quickly. “Tell him I want to speak to him. But you speak to your mates and tell them what I am willing to do. If I cook for you I want ‘safe conduct.’”

“Of course, ma’am. Nobody shall hurt you. And I’ll tell Mr. Boldig to come.”

Within half an hour she heard Boldig’s quick step upon the deck. He barked in at the open window:

“What’s this you are up to, Miss Fielding? You’ll set my men all by the ears. You are a dangerous character, I believe. What do you mean by telling them you will cook for them if I let you out of your room?”

Ruth thought he was not so angry as he made out to be. She said boldly:

“I am willing to earn the good will of the men in that way, Mr. Boldig. You know why I do it. I shall appeal to them if you undertake to treat me in any way unbecoming your position as a gentleman and an officer.”

“You have a small opinion of me, Miss Fielding!” he exclaimed.

“That is your fault, not mine,” she told him coolly. “And I hope you will show me that I am wrong.”

He went away without further word, and in a little while she heard somebody drawing the nails from the doorframe.

“Who is that?” she asked before she unlocked the door.

“It’s me, ma’am,” said the rather drawling voice of the man Boldig called “Fritz.”

He did not seem to be a typical German at least. When Ruth opened her door she found the man to be rather a simple-looking fellow. He grinned and touched his forelock.

“I’m to show you where they cook, Miss, and how to find the mess tins and all. There’s a good fire in one of the galley ranges. The boys is all your friends, Miss. You needn’t be afraid of us.”

“I am not at all afraid of you, Fritz,” she said, smiling at him. “I count you as my friend aboard here, if nobody else is.”

“Sure you can count on me, Miss. You know,” he added confidentially, “I ain’t a reg’lar German. Not like Mr. Boldig and these other fellers. I was born in Boston, and I’d rather be right there now than over on this side of the pond. But you needn’t tell anybody I said so.”

“I won’t say anything about it,” she told him, following him through the passages toward the steward’s and cook’s quarters. “But why, then, if your heart is not in this business, why did you join in the expedition to take charge of the Admiral Pekhard?”

“Their money, Miss,” Fritz told her. “There’s a heap of money in it. When I finish the voyage, though, I’m going to get back to the States. I’m through with all this then. I’ll have money enough to open a shop of my own.”

“And do you suppose you will be welcome at home, when people know of your treachery?” asked Ruth indignantly.

“No, Miss. I won’t be welcome if they know it. But they won’t. I ain’t fool enough to tell ’em.”

In ten minutes Ruth had learned all that was necessary for her to know about the cooking quarters and the tools she had to work with. There was a good fire, as Fritz had said, and she at once went to work on baking powder biscuit – and she made a heap of them. She knew that thirteen men (counting the two prisoners aft) could eat a lot of bread. In the cold storage room was fresh meat and plenty of bacon and ham. She had to work alone, for the Germans had all they could do to steer the ship, keep lookout, stoke the fires and run the engines properly. She wondered that they got any sleep at all, and Fritz admitted to her that they were only allowed two hours’ relief at a time.

Boldig was a driver; but he was just the sort of man to head such a piratical expedition as this. He worked hard himself, and knew how to get every ounce of work possible out of those under him.

He looked in at Ruth working in the kitchen, and spoke quite nicely to her. Perhaps the great plate of biscuits, pork chops, and French fried potatoes she gave him to take up to the wheelhouse, caused him to consider her wishes to a degree.

Later she insisted that Mr. Dowd and Rollife, the radio man, should have their share. She made one of the men go to Boldig for the keys to their rooms, and she piled a tray high with good things for the prisoners to eat. Boldig would not let her go herself to the men in durance. He would not trust her to talk with them.

She washed her dishes, banked her fire, and laid out what she purposed to cook for breakfast. Then, very tired indeed and with the lame shoulder fairly “jumping,” she retired to her stateroom. It was then ten o’clock, and having had no sleep at all the night before Ruth was desperately tired.

She entered her room, locked the door, and pushed the bed as she had planned between the door and the stationary washstand. Then she went to bed, feeling that she would be safe.

But nobody had to wake her in the morning. The sea had become rough over night, and at the slow pace she was traveling the Admiral Pekhard rolled a good deal in the roughening waves.

Ruth awoke with a bright idea in her head, and she proceeded to put it into execution as soon as she got the men’s breakfast out of the way. For Boldig and the chief officer and radio man, as well as herself, she had some of Aunt Alvirah’s griddle cakes with eggs and bacon. Between two of the cakes she put on one of the plates for the imprisoned men, she slipped a paper on which she had written before leaving her stateroom:

“I am free while I do the cooking. I can get to your rooms if I only had keys to free you. Tell me what to do. R. F.”

She had given her word to Boldig to do no harm; but she did not think this was breaking her word. It might be possible for Mr. Dowd, Rollife and herself to get free – even free of the ship. The motor boat was still trailing the steamship, although if the sea became much rougher she presumed the mutineers would have to find some means of getting the launch inboard.

Half an hour later Boldig came into the galley, his face aflame. He slapped down the piece of paper she had written her note on before Ruth, and glared at her.

“It is impossible to trust a woman!” he growled. “Did you suppose I would let you send food to those fellows without examining it myself? I am not so foolish. Now, my lady, you shall keep on cooking; but your friends aft there can go without anything fancy. I’ll take them what I please hereafter.”

He turned on his heel and whipped out of the place. Ruth was almost in tears. And they were not inspired by terror, although she had been startled by the man’s words and look. It seemed that she was not to be able to aid her friends – or herself – to escape.

Yet, even in her grief and in the midst of her worry, a gleam of amusement came to her at Boldig’s, “It is impossible to trust a woman.” This from a traitor – a person impossible to trust!

But even Fritz had not much to say to her when he came to help peel vegetables for the men’s dinner. He admitted to her that thus far Krueger had not been able to pick up any word from the submersible that had been engaged to meet the pirates if they accomplished their part of the plot – which they had. The radio was crackling most of the day, showing that the leaders of the mutineers were getting anxious.

After she had cleared up the dinner dishes (and that was no easy work, because of her lame shoulder) Ruth went and lay down. She took the trouble to brace the bedstead against the washstand as before. Some time after she had fallen asleep she was awakened by a noise at the door. She awoke with her gaze fastened on the knob, and was sure it was being turned. But the door was locked as well as barricaded.

Before she could be positive that anybody was there who meant her harm, there was a sudden hail from the open deck. She heard several men running. Then a shout in German:

“Mr. Boldig! It is a man afloat! Man overboard!”

Ruth thought she heard somebody run from her door.

She arose and tremblingly put on her dress. Then she hastened to pull aside the bed and open her door. She felt that she was safer out upon deck. Besides, she was curious to know what the cry had meant.

CHAPTER XXIV – COUNTERPLOT

To one who had been more than forty-eight hours drifting in a scuttle-butt in mid-Atlantic, the sight of almost any kind of craft would have been welcome. Tom Cameron hailed first the plume of drifting smoke, then the mast and stacks, and then the high, camouflaged bow of the Admiral Pekhard with a joy that increased deliriously as he became assured that the ship was steaming head-on to his poor raft.

The steamship was moving very slowly, and it was hours before, waving his coat frantically as he stood in his bobbing craft, he knew he had been sighted by the lookout. The latter had not expected to see anything like Tom and the remains of the wrecked Zeppelin in these waters. The lookout had been straining his eyes to catch sight of a periscope.

It was providential that the course of the Admiral Pekhard was bringing her almost directly toward the drifting bit of wreckage. She was almost on top of Tom before the lookout hailed and Boldig ran up to the bridge to get a better look at the object which had caused the excitement.