“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.