A pair of socks were his only foot covering, and made not a sound as he placed a foot on the first rung of the ladder. If anyone could ever creep like a cat it was this scoundrel. He seemed to slide down the ladder while never once did he take his eyes from the form of the sleeper. Then he went on hands and knees and crawled down one side of the range of motors.
"Better than bombs, far," he was saying. "Must work things so as to make the ship helpless. Just now her automatic gear's steering her upon the course they've set. But there won't be any automatic movement when I've finished. And the best of my scheme is that it don't endanger life, that is, my life. It's blowing tidyish now, and of course the ship'll feel it. She'll get sent this way and that, and be wellnigh wrecked. But she's got wireless, and we're over the track of ships. That's handy."
How the cunning rascal had schemed it all out. Whatever he proposed to do now he reckoned would render the great ship helpless, and would wreck her. But not on the instant. No. He was not attempting desperate methods such as Carl had chosen. The ship would be helpless, and become a wreck in time, but her wireless would enable some steamer to be called before the last fatal moment.
"It's grand and so easy," Fruhmann gurgled. "Now, we remember the description. There's a large valve on the left of the engines. That empties the water tanks. But we're on the other side, and the valve just here sets free the paraffin. It drains their tanks, runs away with the fuel supply of the engines, empties the radiators, and taps every drain from the hydraulic distributors. In fact, just this little, gentle turn makes her as helpless as a child, robs her motors of power and lets the breeze play goodness knows what with her. How very simple!"
The villain, smiling at his own cleverness, steadily turned the lever controlling that valve and heard on the instant the gurgle of fluid running swiftly through the open orifice. Then he crept to the ladder, clambered it cautiously, and faced for the men's quarters. It was at that precise moment that a hand was laid heavily on his shoulder.
"You're a slinkin', mean-faced, scheming hound," came in gruff tones from no less a person than Hawkins. "I was took in with yer tales at first, I own I was, took in nicely. But I'm all alive-o now, and don't you forget it. Here's just a sample of what'll happen."
He gave the man a terrific buffet, a buffet which sent him giddily against the wall of the gallery, while it awakened the sleeping mechanic. "You just look lively and turn down that paraffin valve," sang out Hawkins, "and next time you wants to sleep call in a mate ter relieve you. Now, you, I'm a goin'——"
Precisely what the angry Hawkins proposed to do there is no saying. But Adolf Fruhmann had no intention of giving him the opportunity. To give this rascal his due, he had courage, a greater store than possessed by Carl Reitberg. And now that he was taken in the midst of his attempt, and saw prison before him, he formed the desperate resolve of fleeing.
"Get to the liftway and keep 'em off," he told himself swiftly. "Yes, there's an aeroplane up there. You press a lever and the machine rises to the deck. A button sets the engine going. You can't upset. It's safe, safer than staying here. I'm off to try it."
He broke away from the sailor and went racing along the gallery. A moment later he was at the liftway, where, guided by his memory of what Carl had told him, he stepped upon a platform and touched a button. But that action was disastrous. A piercing shriek instantly awoke the sleepers aboard the airship. For Adolf Fruhmann, adventurer and scoundrel, had for all his cleverness made one vital error. He had stepped upon the wrong platform. That button which he had pushed released the well through which that twirling lift was wont to descend beneath the vessel. It opened with a sudden clatter, and in one second the ruffian who had hoped to wreck Joe Gresson's fine vessel was precipitated into space. Nor could he be discovered when the searchlights were turned upon the surface of the Atlantic.