Ruth Fielding Down in Dixie; Great Times in the Land of Cotton. Emerson Alice B.
with much hilarity, “shinnied up” to the berth above, kicking her night slippers off as she plunged into it.
“Good-bye – if I don’t see you again,” she said plaintively. “You may have to call the fire department with their ladders, to get me down.”
Ruth snapped off the light, and then registered her getting into bed by a bump on her head against the lower edge of the upper berth.
“Oh, my, Helen! You have the best of it after all. Oh, how that hurt!”
“M-m-m-m!” from Helen. So quickly was she asleep!
But Ruth could not go immediately to Dreamland. There had been too much of an exciting nature happening.
She lay and thought of Curly Smith, and of the disguised boy, and of the obnoxious school teacher who had accused her and Helen of robbing her. The odor of Tom’s roses finally became so oppressive that she got up to open the blind again for more air. She again struck her head. It was impossible to remember that berth edge every time she got up and down.
As she stepped lightly upon the floor in her bare feet she heard a stealthy footstep outside. It brought Ruth to an immediate halt, her hand stretched out toward the blind. Through the interstices of the blind she could see that the white moonlight flooded the deck. Stealthily she drew back the blind and peered out.
The person on the deck had halted almost opposite the window. Ruth knew now that the steamer must be well across the Five Fathom Bank, with the Delaware Lightship behind them and the Fenwick Lightship not far ahead. To the west was the wide entrance to Delaware Bay, and the land was now as far away from them as it would be at any time during the trip.
She peered out quietly. There stood the curly-haired boy again, leaning on the rail, and looking wistfully off to the distant shore.
Was it Henry Smith? Was he the boy who had come aboard the boat in girl’s clothes? And if so, what would he do when the boat docked at Old Point Comfort and the detectives appeared? They would probably have a good description of the boy wanted, and could pick him out of the crowd going ashore.
Ruth was almost tempted to speak to the boy – to whisper to him. Had she been sure it was Curly she would have done so, for she knew him so well. But, as before, his face was turned away from her.
He moved on, and Ruth softly slid back the blind and stole to bed again, for the third time bumping her head. “My! if this keeps on, I’ll be all lumps and hollows like an outline map of the Rocky Mountains,” she whimpered, and then cuddled down under the sheet and lay looking out of the open window.
The sea air blew softly in and cooled her flushed cheeks. The odor of the roses was not so oppressive, and after a time she dropped to sleep. When she awoke it was because of the change in the temperature some time before dawn. The moon was gone; but there was a faint light upon the water.
Helen moved in the berth above. “Hullo, up there!” whispered Ruth.
“Hullo, down there!” was the quick reply. “What ever made me wake up so early?”
“Because you want to get up early,” replied Ruth, this time sliding out of her berth so adroitly that she did not bump her head.
Helen came tumbling down, skinning her elbow and landing with a thump on the floor. “Gracious to goodness – and all hands around!” she ejaculated. “Talk about sleeping on a shelf in a Pullman car! Why, that’s ‘Home Sweet Home’ to this. I came near to breaking my neck.”
“Come on! scramble into your clothes,” said Ruth, already at the wash basin.
Helen peered out. “Why – oh, my!” she said, shivering and holding the lacy neck of her gown about her. “It’s da-ark yet. It must be midnight.”
“It is ten minutes to four o’clock,” said Ruth promptly. She had studied the route and knew it exactly. “That is Chincoteague Island Light yonder. That’s where those cunning little ponies that Madge Steele’s father had at Sunrise Farm came from.”
“Wha-at?” yawned Helen. “Did they come from the light?”
“No, goosy! from the island. They are bred there.”
Ten minutes later the chums were out on the open deck. They raced forward to see if they could see the sun. His face was still below the sea, but a flush along the edge of the horizon announced his coming.
“Oh, see yonder!” cried Helen. “See the shore! How near! And the long line of beaches. What’s that white line outside the yellow sand?”
“The surf,” Ruth said. “And that must be Hog Island Light. How faint it is. The sun is putting it out.”
“It’s a long way ahead.”
“Yes. We won’t pass that till almost six o’clock. Oh, Helen! there comes the sun.”
“What’s that?” asked Helen, suddenly seizing her chum’s wrist. “Did you hear it?”
“That splash? The men are washing decks.”
“It is a man overboard!” murmured Helen.
“More likely a big fish jumping,” said the practical Ruth.
The girls hung over the rail, looking shoreward, and tried in the uncertain light to see if there was any object floating on the water. If Helen expected to see a black spot like the head of a swimmer, she was disappointed.
But she did see – and so did Ruth – a lazy fishing smack drifting by on the tide. They could almost have thrown a stone aboard of her.
There seemed to be a little excitement aboard the smack. Men ran to and fro and leaned over the rail. Then the girls thought they saw the smackmen spear something, or possibly somebody, with a boathook and haul their prize aboard.
“I believe somebody did fall overboard from this steamer, and those fishermen have picked him up,” Helen declared.
The girls watched the sunrise and the shore line for another hour or more and then went in to breakfast. When they came back to the open deck the steamer was flying past the coast of the lower Peninsula, and Cape Charles Lightship courtesied to her on the swells.
Far, far in the distance they saw the staff of the Cape Henry Light. The steamer soon turned her prow to pass between these two points of land, known to seamen as the Capes of Virginia, which mark the entrance to Chesapeake Bay.
Their fair trip down the coast from New York was almost ended and the chums began to pick up their things in the stateroom and repack their bags.
CHAPTER V – THE NEWSPAPER ACCOUNT
“Do you suppose Nettie and her aunt have arrived, Ruth?”
“I really don’t,” Ruth Fielding said, as she and her chum stood on the upper deck again and watched the shore which they were approaching so rapidly.
“Goodness! won’t you feel funny going up to that big, sprawling hotel alone?”
“No, dear. I sha’n’t be alone,” laughed Ruth. “You will be with me, won’t you?”
Helen merely pinched her for answer.
“The rooms are engaged for us, you know,” Ruth assured her chum. “Mrs. Parsons knew she might be delayed by business in Washington and that we would possibly reach the hotel first. They have our names and all we have to do is to present her card.”
“Fine! I leave it all to you,” agreed Helen.
“Of course you will. You always do,” said Ruth drily. “You certainly are one of the fortunate ones in this world, Helen, dear.”
“How am I?”
“Because,” Ruth said, laughing, “all you ever will do in any emergency will be to roll those pretty eyes of yours and look helpless, and somebody will come to your rescue.”
“Lucky me, then!” sighed her friend. “How green the grass is on the shore, Ruth – and how blue the water. Isn’t this one lovely morning?”
“And