Hubert went off; but returned to take her to the train. He brought with him letters from his aunt—credentials of Ruth as Cynthia Gail to powerful people who did not know Cynthia Gail, and who were asked to further her desires in every way.
Thus, at the end of seven days, Ruth Alden sailed for the first time away from her native land upon the Ribot for Bordeaux to become—in the reports of the American authorities who approved and passed her on—a worker in the devastated districts of France; to become, in whatever report the agents of Hohenzollernism in America made to their superiors, a dependable and resourceful spy for Germany; to become—in the resolution she swore to herself and to the soul of Cynthia Gail and the prayers she prayed—an emissary for her cause and her country into the land of the enemy who would know no mercy to such as herself.
CHAPTER VI
“WE’RE FIGHTING”
There is a thrill upon awaking on your first morning on board a ship at sea which all the German U-boats under the ocean can scarcely increase. You may imagine all you please what it may be; and it will amaze you with something more. Ruth Alden had imagined; and her first forenoon on shipboard was filled with surprises.
She had gone aboard from the New York quay at nine the evening before, as she had been warned to do; she had looked into her cabin—a small, square white compartment with two bunks, upper and lower, an unupholstered seat, a washbowl with a looking glass beside the porthole and with a sort of built-in bureau with four drawers, above which was posted conspicuously the rules to be observed in emergencies. These were printed in French and English and were illustrated by drawings of exactly how to adjust the life-preservers to be found under all berths. Someone, whose handbaggage bore the initials “M. W.” and who evidently was to share the cabin with her, had been in before her and gone out. Ruth saw that the steward disposed her cabin baggage beside M. W.’s; she shut herself in a moment after the steward had gone, touching the pillow of her bunk, reading the rules again, trying the water-taps. She stood with shut eyes, breathing deliciously the strange, scrubbed, salty smells of a deep-water boat; she opened the door and went out to the deck with the darkness of the Hudson on one hand; upon the other, the myriad-lighted majesty of New York.
She was standing there at the rail gazing up at the marvelous city when Hubert Lennon found her. He merely wanted to make sure she was aboard. Gerry Hull and Captain Lescault—he was the French officer who had spoken at Mrs. Corliss’—and an English captain, Forraker, of the same party, were aboard now; Lady Agnes and the Englishwomen with whom she traveled also were aboard, Hubert said.
He was glad to find that Cynthia was all right; but he said that a nasty sea was running outside; the Ribot might go out at any time. Hubert thought Cynthia had better go to bed and get all the sleep she could.
Ruth went below, not with any idea of sleeping, but to avoid meeting Gerry Hull just yet. That she was aboard the Ribot under orders did not undo the fact that she was here for the conscious purpose of furthering her acquaintance with him. He must guess that, she thought—he from whom she had heard nothing at all since that afternoon at Mrs. Corliss’.
Ruth was ready for bed when someone put a key in the cabin door, but knocked before turning it, and a girl’s pleasant voice inquired, “All right to come in?”
“All right,” Ruth said, covering up in bed.