CHAPTER XXII.
IN DIRE PERIL.
When Lieutenant Taylor saw the Sylph’s launch turn and head for the little vessel without waiting for him, an expression of great surprise came over his face, followed by one of anxiety. He raised a shout, and, when he saw that Frank paid no heed to him, although he knew his shout had been heard, his suspicions were aroused.
Quickly he drew from his pocket the message Lord Hastings had ordered him to give to Captain Johnson, and tore it in little pieces. These he dropped into the water, and then made his way toward the captain, who stood awaiting his approach.
The captain greeted him pleasantly.
“You have a message for me, sir?” he asked.
“I have, sir; and it is a most disagreeable one.”
“Disagreeable? Has some disaster occurred?”
“No, sir. It is even worse, if possible.”
“Explain yourself.”
“Very well, sir. I am commanded to charge the young lady who has just come aboard with being a German spy!”
“A spy! Lord Hastings has not informed me of this, and I have been in communication with him.”
“Very true, sir, but with good reason. There are others aboard the Sylph whom he did not wish to overhear such a communication. She was seen to steal a message relating to the movements of the fleet from the wireless room. Also she is a German. Lord Hastings requests that she be tried at once!”
“Very good, sir,” replied Captain Johnson.
He called his first officer.
“Have Miss Beulow summoned here at once,” he commanded.
A moment later, the young girl, smiling, stood before them.
“Miss Beulow,” said the captain, “I have an unpleasant duty to perform. You are accused of being a German spy!”
The girl staggered back.
“Who makes this absurd charge?” she demanded, after she had to some degree regained her composure.
Lieutenant Taylor stepped forward.
“I do, at Lord Hastings’ command,” he replied.
The girl stared at him with the greatest contempt. Then she turned to the captain.
“I am innocent of this charge,” she said; “but this man,” and she pointed an accusing finger at the lieutenant, “I know to be a spy. He is accusing me to save himself.”
Lieutenant Taylor smiled sneeringly.
“A very natural reply,” he said. “Captain, she was seen to put the message I spoke of in her purse. Perhaps she still has it there. Will you see for yourself?”
“Your purse, if you please,” said Captain Johnson, extending his hand, and speaking in a harsh voice, for he had no reason to doubt the truth of Lieutenant Taylor’s words.
The girl’s face turned white. For the first time she realized the full seriousness of her situation. For a moment she held her purse even closer to her.
“But, captain,” she began, “I——”
“Your purse, if you please,” interrupted the captain.
Slowly the girl extended it to him. Quickly he opened it, and a moment later withdrew a little piece of paper, which he opened and read. It was the message containing the supposed plans of the British fleet.
After a hasty perusal, the captain turned to Lieutenant Berkeley, his first officer.
“Arrest her,” he said.
“But, captain,” exclaimed the girl in terror, “a message to Lord Hastings will confirm the truth of my story.”
“I shall communicate with Lord Hastings at once,” was the reply, “but I am convinced that no answer he can make will exonerate you.”
“The case is perfectly plain,” agreed Lieutenant Taylor.
“Have this young woman confined to her cabin,” commanded Captain Johnson to Lieutenant Berkeley, “and have a court-martial summoned to sit at 8 o’clock in the morning. That is all. Take her away. Now you, sir,” he continued, turning to Lieutenant Taylor, “I suppose are to stay here to make the charge?”
“Exactly, sir,” replied the lieutenant; “such was Lord Hastings’ command.”
“Very well. Lieutenant Berkeley will provide you with quarters.”
The captain made his way to the wireless room, where he had the operator pick up the Sylph. First he sent a message, simply saying that Miss Beulow had been arrested on the charge of being a spy, the accusation having been preferred by Lieutenant Taylor. Then he asked further details. But there came no reply. In vain did the operator again try to pick up the Sylph. At length he gave up the attempt.
“It is very plain,” said the captain to himself. “It is just as Lieutenant Taylor told me. Evidently they do not answer because they fear someone will overhear the message.”
But at that moment the wireless came to life, and the captain waited.
“From the Sylph?” he questioned.
“No,” was the reply, “from Admiral Jellicoe. Instead of continuing to Copenhagen, we are ordered to cruise about in these waters, that in case a German vessel succeeds in running the blockade, we may be able to intercept her.”
“All right,” was the reply, and the commander made his way to his own cabin.
For Alice Beulow, confined to her cabin, and in full realization of her perilous situation, the day passed slowly. Food was brought to her, but she was not allowed to go on deck.
All night she paced up and down in her cabin, and the first gleams of sunlight, streaming through the window, found her pale and hollow-eyed. Sleep had been impossible.
But eight o’clock came at last, and she was conducted to Captain Johnson’s cabin, where around a long table sat the men who were to try her on the charge of being a spy—the court-martial—composed of Captain Johnson, First Lieutenant Berkeley, Second Lieutenant Palmer, Third Lieutenant Emery and Fourth Lieutenant Arthur. Lieutenant Taylor was also present.
Captain Johnson arose as Miss Beulow entered the cabin.
“Miss Beulow,” he said sternly, “you are accused of being a German spy. Are you innocent or guilty?”
“I am innocent,” replied the girl quietly.
Captain Johnson motioned her to a seat, then turned to Lieutenant Taylor.
“You may state your case, sir,” he said.
Lieutenant Taylor arose and bowed to the members of the court-martial. Then he faced the young girl, a slight sneer on his face.
Now, lying was not the least of the lieutenant’s accomplishments, and he told a plausible story to the officers who sat as judges. He told of how Lord Hastings had learned, through great good fortune, that there were German spies on board the Sylph, and how, after being saved from a watery grave, Miss Beulow had repaid her saviours by joining in the conspiracy against them.
He related how Lord Hastings had set a trap for the plotters, and how Miss Beulow had been caught red-handed stealing a message from the wireless room. She had not been arrested then, he explained, because the identity of the other conspirators had not been learned, and it was feared that her arrest would make them more wary.
It was indeed a plausible story, and the judges were plainly impressed with it. Not a doubt of the lieutenant’s honesty and veracity had entered the mind of a single member of the court-martial.
At length the lieutenant finished and resumed his seat; and the accused girl arose to face her judges, whom, she was now certain, would also be her executioners.
“Do you wish to make a statement?” she was asked.
“I do,” was her reply, as she stood trembling and on the verge of tears, and she continued: “I solemnly swear I am innocent of this grave charge. It is true my father is a German, but that does not prove I am a spy. I accuse that man there,” and she pointed a trembling finger at Lieutenant Taylor, “of conspiring to destroy the British fleet!”
Lieutenant Taylor sprang to his feet angrily.
“Absurd!” he cried, and sat down again.
“Is it not true?” continued the young girl, facing him steadily, “that you are not an Englishman? Is it not true that you are an American?”
“And what of that?” exclaimed the lieutenant. “I am nevertheless an officer in the British navy.”
The girl turned from him and faced her judges again.
“Gentlemen,” she said, “that man came to me two nights ago and declared to me that he was a captain in the German army, and that he was plotting the destruction of the English fleet off Helgoland. He thought that because I am a German, and because I had ignored him, that he could gain my sympathy by disclosing his reason for being with the English. He told me his plans. He, not I, is the traitor!”
Captain Johnson rose to his feet.
“How,” he asked, “do you account for the paper I found in your possession?”
“Lieutenant Taylor showed it to me,” replied the girl. “He said it was the message that meant the destruction of the British fleet. He gave it to me and I kept it. That is all.”
“I deny it!” exclaimed Lieutenant Taylor, springing to his feet
Captain Johnson waved him aside.
“Have you anything else to say. Miss Beulow?” he asked.
“Nothing,” replied the girl, “except that I am innocent.”
“You may return to your cabin, Miss Beulow,” said Captain Johnson. “You shall know our verdict as soon as we have reached it.”
Haltingly the girl was escorted back to her cabin. Here, at length, she gave way to her feelings and burst into tears. When, finally, she was again summoned before the court-martial, she had regained her composure, and, dry-eyed, and standing firmly erect, she once more calmly faced her judges, to learn from them whether she was to live or die.
The captain and all other members of the court-martial arose from their seats.
“Miss Beulow,” said Captain Johnson, in a gruff voice, “we have found you, after due deliberation, to be guilty of the charge against you.”
Alice Beulow staggered back, and the captain stopped speaking. The British commander cleared his voice of a huskiness that had crept into it, pulled himself together, and continued firmly:
“And the sentence of this court-martial is that you be shot to-morrow morning at eight o’clock!”