It could not be smoke, of course, one felt convinced of that; yet it was odd that it should look and behave so much like smoke.
Barbara got herself disentangled from her steamer rugs and jumped to her feet. This was a reliable method of waking oneself up. She took a single step forward and then turned and ran along the deck to the stairway more swiftly than she had ever run in her life. She was not mistaken, it was smoke issuing from underneath the deck. Possibly this meant nothing serious, no one in the world could know less of a ship than she did. Then there was a possibility that their steamer might be on fire, when the crew must be alarmed at once. Barbara had not studied to become a trained nurse without learning coolness. Under no circumstances must she cry fire and so create a panic. She had no other conscious thought except that she must find one of the ship’s officers or sailors and give the alarm.
But before she was more than half along the companion way the girl heard a noise like the explosion of a muffled gun. Straightway she pitched face forward down the steps. Nevertheless she was not hurt. The next instant she was up and running along the hall, reached the door of her own stateroom just as Eugenia flung the door open. At the same time Nona’s and Mildred’s white faces stared forth.
“Put on some clothes quickly. There has been an accident, I don’t know how serious,” Barbara commanded. But the information was scarcely necessary. Already the ship seemed alive with running feet. Commands were being shouted, while as by magic stewards were urging the passengers to be calm, insisting there was no danger. The trouble was probably not serious, yet they must be prepared.
Barbara entered her stateroom. Her pocketbook and a few valuables she must try to save in case they had to take to the life-boats.
In the middle of the room she found Eugenia Peabody in her nightgown, shaking with terror and making not the least effort to get dressed.
Barbara forgot the respect due to their chaperon. Deliberately she seized her by the shoulders and began shaking her severely. It was absurd, or would have been under other circumstances. Eugenia was so much taller and larger and older than her companion that it looked as if a governess were being disciplined by a small pupil.
However, the younger girl was terribly in earnest. “Don’t lose your senses,” she protested angrily. Then darting about the tiny room in an incredible time she secured the other girl’s clothes and got her into them in a haphazard fashion.
Finally Eugenia fled to the closed door, only to be dragged back by her companion.
“Your shoes and stockings, please, Miss Peabody,” Barbara argued determinedly. “There is no immediate danger or we would be warned. Now let us find the other girls. Remember we are Red Cross nurses and not young society women.” If the ship had been sinking Barbara Meade felt that she must have fired this sarcasm. But really Eugenia was so frightened she was beginning to like her better. It was human to be frightened; she was terrified herself. But it would do no good to go to pieces.