“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.