"How did he get there, from a submarine on the bottom?" asked Commander Ennerling, in astonishment.

"That is one of the secret features of this boat," laughed Mr. Farnum. "Now, gentlemen, if you will kindly come below again, we're going to sink."

Hardly had the submarine touched bottom before Mr. Farnum again conducted his guests back to the state-room. When Captain Jack summoned them forth, they returned to find Hal Hastings, laughing in a way that showed his white teeth, standing there in his dripping garments.

"From what you have seen, gentlemen," said the builder, seriously, "I am sure you will understand that we have mastered a new feature, of great value in submarine boating." The three Navy officers struggled to conceal their wonder.

"Make for the surface, Captain Benson," directed the owner.

When the passengers aboard the submarine stood once more on the platform deck, the yard's owner signaled for the shore boat to lay alongside. Into this small boat he took his guests. The boat was rowed away two or three lengths, immediately after which the "Pollard" again sank.

Two or three minutes passed. Then Captain Jack's head shot above the surface. He made for the boat, hanging onto the gunwale.

"It would be bad judgment to call you young fellows mermaids," said Commander Ennerling, dryly, "but you are surely merboys."

A moment later Hal Hastings's head came above the surface.

"Mr. Pollard and young Somers could as easily leave the boat and join us," explained Mr. Farnum. "However, if the last man aboard leaves the boat then there is no way provided for a return to the 'Pollard,' and we would be placed at great expense in raising her. I think we have, however, shown you enough to make you believe that we have mastered some new wrinkles in submarine work."

"You have shown us more than we can quite digest," admitted Lieutenant Commander Briscoe. "But how is this all done?"

"That," responded Mr. Farnum, gravely, "the Government will know when the boat is purchased for the American Navy."

The anchor being again lowered, both Jack and Hal dived below. In five minutes the "Pollard" was on the surface. Mr. Farnum asked:

"Have we shown you enough at one time?"

"Yes," admitted the officers. "This evening, after dark, we may ask you to take us out and show us your boat's diving powers."

"Jack, my boy," whispered Jacob Farnum, when the young captain joined the party on shore, "your trick of leaving and returning to the boat when it lies on the bottom has gotten our friends of the Navy into a state of hard guessing. Do you think we'd better show them some more of it at another time?"

"If you want my opinion, sir, I think we'd better not. We've puzzled them this time, but if we keep on doing the trick for them, I'm afraid they'll soon guess how it's done. I don't believe, sir, you can fool the American Navy more than once."



CHAPTER XV

SERVING IN THE CAUSE OF PEACE, NOT WAR

"It seems almost a shame to have to go below," sighed Lieutenant McCrea.

It was evening, the time about nine o'clock. For nearly an hour the "Pollard" had been running out to sea at something below her full speed. She was now something like a dozen miles off the coast.

Commander Ennerling had just decided that it would be a good time to test the diving capabilities of the submarine.

Ventilators were shipped, and all other preparations had been made for going below the surface.

Eph was left in the conning tower, Lieutenant McCrea with him.

"How far do you want the dive to be made, sir?" asked Jack Benson.

"A depth of forty feet ought to serve the purpose," stated the president of the board.

"Then, sir, we will make a sloping dive to that depth, then complete the curve until we strike the surface again," proposed the submarine boy. "How will that suit you, sir?"

"Excellently," agreed the Navy commander.

"Do you want to take the record with your stop watch?"

"Yes?"

"All ready, sir."

As Captain Jack gave the word he threw open the forward water tanks, so that water rushed in, tilting the bow of the craft downward. The "Pollard" moved on a decided slant until Captain Jack read the depth of forty feet on the gauge. Then, with a barely perceptible rest. On an even keel, the young submarine expert threw compressed air into the forward tanks, expelling the water, at the same time admitting water to the tanks aft.

Gracefully, and with, the precision of a trained living being, the submarine craft curved upward until Lieutenant McCrea shouted down:

"We're awash, sir"

Benson drove the water from the tanks aft, and the boat rode the waves.

"Now, let us see you run a little lower than awash, with just enough of the conning tower in the air for the helmsman to see where he is steering," proposed the president of the board.

Jack went above to relieve Eph at the wheel, while Commander Ennerling stationed himself beside the boy.

"You may use your searchlight, of course," proposed the commander, "and proceed just as though you were trying to pick up a battleship of the enemy without much exposing yourself."

As the broad, bright beam of the searchlight shone out over the waters ahead, Captain Benson called down for the best speed.

Commander Ennerling watched the boat's performance, and the work of the young captain for some minutes before he said:

"Benson, I'll admit that the more I see of this craft the more anxious I am to see her under our Navy flag."

"I'm glad to hear you say that, sir," cried Jack, his face glowing.

"Yet I'm a bit puzzled, after all."

"How so, sir?"

"Why, the more I think about it, the more I wonder just how much of my delight and interest are due to the boat itself, and how much to the splendidly expert way in which you young men handle her."

"You call us experts, sir?"

"Don't you believe, yourselves, that you are?"

"We hope that some day we shall be," was Jack's slow response.

"Benson," went on the Navy officer, earnestly, "if you're not now experts, you never will be."

"Does that mean, sir, that we shall never know much more about such craft than we do now?"

"By no means. You'll know more every year that you stick to the work. What I intended to convey is that you three are the best experts in this line I have ever seen, considering, of course, the amount of time you have already given to this work. Give you three lads time enough, and the United States appears destined to possess the three greatest submarine experts in the world."

"That's great praise, sir," said Jack, quietly, his cheeks tingling.

"I mean all I've said," rejoined Commander Ennerling, gravely.

They had run some miles by this time. Captain Jack, reaching up to swing the searchlight about over the course ahead, suddenly uttered:

"Look over there, sir—two points off starboard. What do you make out?"

Commander Ennerling instantly became absorbed as he caught sight of a steam yacht something more than a mile away.

"Going under full power, but shooting rockets," added Jack. "They've just sent up two from aft."

"Distress sign, without a doubt," mused the Naval officer. "Wonder what it means?"

Jack had reached for a pair of night glasses, which he now handed Commander Ennerling.

Already the "Pollard" had swung to a bow-on course and was making straight for the steam yacht.

"Mutiny, by Jove!" murmured the Naval officer. He did not speak excitedly, but with a certain grim dryness. "Catch up with them as soon as you can, Captain Benson."

"There they go, heading away from us," muttered Captain Jack.

"From her present performance she doesn't look to be over a fourteen-knot boat," declared Ennerling. "You won't be long in running alongside."

"What do you make out, sir?"

"A white-haired old man, in a yachting suit, and another man in white duck. They are aft, and both appear to be holding pistols. There are two women, one middle-aged, I should say, and the other barely more than a girl. Excellent glasses, these, Benson."

"Can you make out any mutineers?"

"There are some men, pressing back astern, yet seemingly not wholly liking to risk revolver fire," went on Commander Ennerling. "I don't believe I can make out all the mutineers, from this point of view."

"What shall we do, sir, when we get alongside?"

"Quell the mutiny," retorted Commander Ennerling, with emphasis. "It's the one choice a Naval officer has in a case of this sort. Briscoe! McCrea!"

The two junior officers came hastily up the spiral stairway. Commander Ennerling told them as rapidly as he could what had happened.

"There's something wholly wrong on that yacht," he wound up, "and we've got to get alongside and look into it."

"Want to get out on the platform deck?" inquired Captain Jack.

"Yes, by all means."

More of the water was expelled from the tanks until the platform deck was two feet above the surface. Then the manhole was opened, and an interested crowd hurried out on deck. Only Eph remained below, he, to his disgust, being sent to the motor.

Jack Benson now stood at the deck wheel, while the others gathered at the rail to watch the progress of the pursuit.

Even as they looked, the older man aft on the yacht fired his revolver twice, aiming forward. The flashes could be distinctly made out, though the reports of the weapon were borne away by the breeze.

"Have either of you gentlemen a revolver?" demanded Commander Ennerling of his subordinate officers.

Neither of them had. Nor had any of the submarine's own people.

"Hm!" muttered the commander, grimacing. "This is a fine Naval outfit to lay alongside of a craft that has a mutiny aboard!"

"Do you want to hail, or try to board the yacht?" inquired Jacob Farnum.

"I think we'd better run alongside and hail that crowd," answered Commander Ennerling. "Yet, if it comes to it, we'll have board!"

Three shots flashed out, amidships, on the yacht, showing that the fire was directed towards the stern. Two shots from the two men aft replied. No one appeared to have been hit.

"We'll have to fight if we're to be of any use," muttered Ennerling. "With our fists, too, confound the luck!"

They were now rapidly overhauling the yacht. It was with throbbing pulses that Captain Jack Benson steered the "Pollard" up alongside.



CHAPTER XVI

FIGHTING A MUTINY WITH THREATS

Hal Hastings came springing out of the conning tower with a megaphone.

Jack, with a final swing of the wheel, brought the "Pollard" in on a course parallel with the steam yacht, and not more than two hundred feet away from the other vessel's port rail.

At the same moment Benson rang the signal bell for reduced speed, so that the sterns of the two craft were kept almost on a line with each other.

"Ahoy, yacht!" bellowed the commander, through the megaphone. "Any trouble aboard?"

"Mutiny!" hoarsely shouted the white-haired man, turning his head only enough to send the word.

"It looks like it," agreed Commander Ennerling. "We are United States Naval officers, aboard a torpedo boat. The mutiny must stop. Shut off your speed, and send a boat over here. My order is addressed to the mutinous crew."

Two of the mutineers were hiding behind a mast, three more behind the forward end of the after deck house. Just how many more there were, could not be clearly made out by those on board the "Pollard," for some had undoubtedly crouched below the deck bulwarks.

But one man among the mutineers possessed the rough courage to advance to the rail, shouting in a husky voice:

"You go on your way, and mind your own business, Mr. Navy!"

"Stop that mutiny and submit to your officers," insisted Commander Ennerling, sternly. "Do you want us to come aboard and wipe you out to the last man?"

"You can't board us, from a craft of that kind," jeered the fellow at the yacht's rail.

"You'll find we can, if we have to."

"Come along, then!"

"Do you realize, my man, that we are United States Naval officers?"

"Not when I can't see your uniform," laughed the mutineer, roughly.

"I'm not going to argue with you any more. I've given you my orders. Do you intend to submit, or will you fight?"

"We'll fight!" roared the mutineer. A hoarse cheer went up from his comrades.

"They don't estimate our fighting power very highly," muttered Ennerling, in a low tone. "If they knew the whole truth they'd be still less afraid of us."

From the mutineer at the rail came another hoarse hail:

"Shove off and get away, or we'll rush the crowd aft and wind up the women! You start a fight if you think you can. If you know you can't, then get away. We're not afraid until we're killed."

Now, eight mutineers, in all, lined across the deck, each man showing a revolver.

"Humph! We've got to fight—and can't!" muttered Commander Ennerling, in great disgust.

"We can save those women," muttered Jack Benson, "if they've the nerve to help themselves be saved."

"How?"

"Hal Hastings and I can swim over, and can hold the women up if they have the nerve to leap overboard."

"Those brutes might fire on you, and the women, but it's worth trying," decided the Naval officer, instantly. "Over with you, then!"

Captain Jack waited only long enough to shed coat and cap, then sprang to the rail. Hal was with him, instantly.

"Sir," bellowed Commander Ennerling, "Have your women folks jump overboard. We'll pick them up in the water. Be quick about it!"

There were a few hurried words in the little group of four aft on the steam yacht. Then, with the "Pollard" running in closer, so that a bare fifty feet separated the two craft—Mr. Farnum at the submarine's wheel—Jack Benson plunged overboard, followed by Hal. The girl aboard the yacht leaped at once, the older woman following quickly.

"Get us, too, if you can," shouted the white haired man at the yacht's stern. "We can swim a little."

Both craft were still going ahead at about fourteen knots, but, as the two men jumped Lieutenant Commander Briscoe and Lieutenant McCrea plunged overboard to get them.

Now Jacob Farnum rang for the reversing of the engine, and the submarine, first pausing, began to glide backward, then stopped altogether.

From the steam yacht went up another hoarse cheer, the mutineers dancing like demons, discharging their revolvers into the air. All this while the yacht steamed steadily away from the scene.

The girl was sinking for the second time as Jack Benson, with a forward swoop, shot one arm under her.

"You won't go down now," he called, cheerily. "Keep cool and just do what I ask you."

The older woman, buoyed up by a greater spread of skirts, had not sunk below the surface at all by the time that Hal Hastings reached her.

"All just as it ought to be," hailed Hal, blithely. "Don't be at all afraid, madam. Porpoise is my middle name, and you can't sink while I have you."

The work of the two Naval officers who had plunged overboard was easier. Both of the men who had leaped from the yacht's stern rail were able to swim. Briscoe and McCrea merely reached them and swam alongside.

David Pollard had ropes over the side of the submarine in a jiffy. It was easy work for seafaring men to climb these ropes over the sloping, easy side. It was scarcely more difficult to get the women up in safety.

"Let the ladies go below to the port stateroom," called Mr. Farnum. "They can disrobe, rub down and get in between blankets in the berths. Their men folks can take care of 'em."

"I'm the steward, sir, of the 'Selma,' the yacht that's ahead," explained the man in white duck. "I'll help them below at once, sir."

"We can have hot coffee in seven minutes," Mr. Farnum continued. "Captain Benson, if you'll take the wheel again, I'll go below and get to work in the galley."

The white-haired man, in the meantime, was hurriedly making himself known to Commander Ennerling as Egbert Lawton, owner of the "Selna," a hundred-and-forty-foot schooner rigged steam yacht. The ladies were his wife and his sixteen-year-old daughter, Miss Ethel Johnson was the steward's name.

"Get after the yacht again, Captain Benson," requested Commander Ennerling. "We have the owner and the ladies safe, but we've got to take that crew to land as mutineers."

"They'll fight to the last shot," declared Mr. Lawton, shaking his head.

"Did you and your steward bring your revolvers with you?" asked Ennerling.

"No; we tossed them into the sea as we dived," laughed Mr. Lawton. "Bringing weapons to a Naval craft is like carrying coals to Newcastle."

"Unfortunately," rejoined the commander, plaintively, "this isn't yet a Naval vessel, and the most dangerous weapon aboard is the breadknife in the galley. But how did the mutiny start, Mr. Lawton? And how did you come to have such a rascally crew aboard?"

"Two or three bad men got into the crew, started fights, and some of the old crew quit. Then these bad men passed the word to other tough characters to apply to my captain. In a short time the crew was all of one piece of cloth, including the fellows in the engine room."

"How many mutineers are there aboard?"

"Thirteen, in all. Even the cook joined them."

"But your officers?"

"Captain Peters and Mate Sidney. It was the mate's watch when the trouble started. You see, as most of my cruises have been short, I carried but one mate. So, on a long run, the captain had to stand watch in turn. Captain Peters was below. Mate Sidney went forward, to the forecastle, for something. He must have been felled and ironed. One of the crew roused the captain, saying the mate needed him forward. Then Captain Peters went forward, was seized and ironed. Then, howling like fiends, in order to frighten us the more, the mutineers rushed aft."

"Yet you stood them off?"

"Yes; Steward Johnson and I both happened to be on deck, and were both armed. The rascals didn't want any of their side killed, so they tried to parley when they saw our weapons."

"What started the mutiny?"

"Mrs Lawton usually carries her jewels, when on board. They are worth two hundred thousand dollars—a rich prize to desperate thieves."

"What folly to tempt men so on the broad ocean!" muttered Commander Ennerling, under his breath.

"The jewels were kept in a safe in the cabin," continued Mr. Lawton.

"And there are the scoundrels just smashing in the cabin door," broke in Jack Benson.

"There they go, piling below."

"They're welcome," jeered Egbert Lawton. "As it happened, my wife had some sort of presentiment, and the jewels are in two canvas pouches securely fastened under her clothing. She leaped overboard with them."

As the "Pollard" now ran much closer, those aboard the submarine could hear the yells of rage that came from the yacht's cabin.

"The safe was unlocked, and the rascals have found out how badly they've been sold," laughed Mr. Lawton. "But why are you going so close to the yacht? In their rage, they'll fight like fiends, and you are unarmed."

"We shall see what we shall see," dryly commented the commander, murmuring a few words in Hal Hastings's ear.

Hal promptly dropped down below.

"Selma ahoy!" hailed Ennerling, when the submarine was once more up with the yacht.

"Get quiet and go to sleep!" shouted back the leader of the mutineers, derisively.

"Under the law you mutineers are pirates," shouted back the commander, firmly. "If you don't surrender we shall be compelled to sink you."

"Sheer off and forget it!" jeered the mutineer.

"Look here, my man," bellowed Commander Ennerling, "we'll have no further nonsense from you. Surrender, without further parley, or you'll find our nose pointing at your side hull—and then there'll be some fireworks. You can't be insolent with the United States Navy."

Then, leaning over the manhole, Commander Ennerling shouted down:

"Watch below!"

"Aye, aye, sir!" rose Hal's voice, clear and strong.

"Pass the word to load the torpedo tube."

"Aye, aye, sir!"

Next, hailing the "Selma," Ennerling called:

"Last hail before trouble! Do you surrender?"

"No, you sea-lawyer!"

Just a word to Jack from the Naval officer, and the "Pollard" shot ahead of the other craft, then came up and around, going after the yacht on the quarter, nose on.

"I hope this line of business works," remarked Ennerling, with a dry smile.

"Toot! toot! too-oo-oot!" sounded the yacht's steam whistle, shrilly.

At the same time her engines reversed. Another of the mutineers rushed to the rail, waving a white towel.

"In heaven's name, don't do it!" he bellowed, hoarsely.

"You surrender, then?" demanded Ennerling, stiffly, though his heart must have bounded with joy. "Wise men! We're not going to put a prize crew aboard. You'll have to take the yacht in. Head about for the coast, taking the course as we signal it. Don't try any tricks, or any slowing down of speed. The least sign of treachery, and we'll sink you without further warning—"

"—if we can do such a trick with compressed air alone," added Commander Ennerling in a tone heard only by those near him on the platform deck. "Captain Benson, what is the nearest place on this coast with a police force capable of taking charge of such a crowd."

"Clyde City is about a thirty-two mile run from here, sir," Jack answered. "There's a harbor police boat there."

"Then make for Clyde City, please. I'll attend to signaling the yacht."

As the two vessels proceeded on their way the ladies below were made as comfortable as possible. Mr. Lawton and his steward were provided with dry clothing, and coffee was served. It was an hour before either Jack or Hal found time to change their clothing in the motor room.



CHAPTER XVII

JACK PERPETRATES A PRACTICAL SEA JOKE

"Searchlight ahead, sir."

Captain Jack made the report to Commander Ennerling.

It was in the small hours of the morning, and the submarine, having taken its prize in to Clyde City's harbor, was now on its way up the coast to tie up for the night at Dunhaven.

They were running about six miles off the coast. As the president of the Naval board had a great desire to test the craft running all but submerged, only the upper portion of the conning tower was above the water.

At Clyde City the "Selma" had been put in charge of the squad of the harbor police boat, and the yacht's captain and mate, neither of them badly injured, had been freed.

Dry clothing had been secured for the ladies, and they were taken ashore. Eghert Lawton was profuse in his expressions of gratitude, and declared that he hoped to meet all hands of the submarine party again at an early date indeed. Our friends learned, later, that the mutineers had been sent to prison.

Now only her regular party was aboard the "Pollard." For half an hour the little vessel had been running along, nearly submerged, and with the searchlight not showing.

At Jack's report Commander Ennerling looked up from the compass he had been studying by the shaded light that showed at only that point in the tower.

"She's coming head-on toward us," said Ennerling. "Benson, Navy men are handling that searchlight."

"You think so, sir?"

"No; I know it," was the dry rejoinder. "There's a way, in the Navy, of swinging a searchlight; a way that no merchantman or yachtsman has ever yet caught."

As yet the vessel behind the searchlight was not visible. Indeed, if she were painted the dark gray color of the Navy craft, it would be some time yet before her hull could show plainly at night.

Commander Ennerling used his glasses for some moments.

"Shall I answer with our searchlight, sir?" inquired the submarine boy.

"No, no, thank you. I'm more interested in seeing how close we can get to that vessel, since she belongs to the Navy, before she succeeds in picking us up with her light. It's of great practical value to know just how close we can get to that other vessel, undiscovered, in the night time."

"How close would you like to get to her?" inquired young Benson, a smile playing about the corners of his mouth.

"Humph! I'd like to tie up to the other craft," muttered the Naval officer.

"Well," propounded Jack, "what's to prevent us from doing it?"

"Several things. The watch that's kept aboard a Naval vessel under way, for one thing."

"I'll try the trick, sir, if you'll stand for it."

Ennerling turned to stare at the boy in amazement.

"Benson, you've done several clever things, but now you're talking nonsense."

"I don't say I can do the thing," rejoined Jack, "but would you like to see me try?"

"Yes, if you take no risk of ramming the war ship, or doing any other damage."

Captain Jack instantly shut off the speed, reversing, next allowing the "Pollard" to stop and drift as she lay.

"What's that for?" asked Commander Ennerling.

"I'm going to try," replied Jack, with a laugh. "Oh, Hal!"

Hastings came at once up aloft with them. His mouth opened in a broad grin as he listened to his chum's rapid sentences.

"And now ask Eph to come up here," finished Jack.

As Somers reached his young chief Benson demanded:

"Eph, see that light? Commander Ennerling is sure it belongs to a Naval vessel. We're going to try to tie up to her while she's going at cruising speed."

"Say, that's like you!" burst from Eph Somers, an admiring grin showing in his face.

"Eph, have you sufficient nerve to get into your bathing suit like lightning, and go overboard with a lantern and a rocket or two, with only a state-room door to float on?"

"Of course," nodded Eph. "The sea's not rough, and a state-room door is big enough to ride on. But you're not going to leave me marooned, are you?"

"Not likely," laughed Jack. "You're right in the path of the approaching vessel, Eph, and they'll see your rockets and lantern. They'll pick you up."

Eph's face went suddenly solemn.

"Say," he muttered, "I'll have a real interesting time trying to make some sort of an explanation, won't I? What shall I tell them if they do pick me up?"

"Tell 'em anything you like, except that the 'Pollard' is trying to tie up," responded Jack.

"That all?" demanded Eph, with a grin. "If it is, I'm off to get into my traveling clothes."

"Hurry," nodded Jack. "Send Hal up to the wheel, while I explain the whole thing to Mr. Farnum. But, commander, what if that shouldn't be a Navy vessel?"

"It is," responded Ennerling, with emphasis. "It's the gunboat 'Massapeqna.' She's in these waters just now. You'll find I'm right."

Jacob Farnum began to laugh heartily when he caught the whole of Captain Jack Benson's new idea of a sea joke.

Eph was quickly in his bathing suit. He and Jack unhinged a stateroom door, carrying it up through the conning tower. Hal, in the meantime, under orders, had attended to bringing the "Pollard's" platform deck briefly above water.

The movements of the searchlight ahead convinced the submarine boat's observers that the gunboat's watch officer had not yet detected the presence of so small and unlighted an object as the "Pollard," miles away.

As the door was floated on the water alongside, Eph stepped out onto it, squatting. He had with him a lantern, three rockets and a box of wind matches.

"Don't forget I'm here, if I'm overlooked by the other people," called Eph, with a wave of his hand, as he floated slowly astern.

"And don't let 'em know where you came from, or what's up," called back Jack Benson.

"Say, do you think I'm as foolish as I look?" blurted Eph, half-indignantly. Those were the last words exchanged, for the "Pollard," now moving slowly forward, had left its detached door astern.

With only a couple of feet of the conning tower above surface, the "Pollard" began to make good submerged time forward. Presently the little craft dropped below the water altogether. Ten minutes later the tower flashed above the water for just a moment.

The Naval commander quickly brought the night glass into play.

"That's the 'Massapequa,'" he declared, laying down the glass.

"There, they've picked us up," cried Jack, as the light passed over the top of the conning tower.

"They won't be sure after just that brief flash at us," rejoined Ennerling. "Drop out of sight."

Jack let the "Pollard" drop at a semi-dive. Just as they had barely gone under there was a steadier flash of light on the water in front of them. Jack chuckled.

"Quick work," nodded Ennerling, approvingly. "The lookout on the gunboat thought they saw something here on the water, and swung the ray back to find out what it was. Now, they've doubtless concluded that they were fooled by a shadow."

"The next time we come up we'll have passed the 'Massapequa' and be astern of her," predicted Jack.

"Good enough, if you can calculate correctly the distance. The gunboat, of course, has no searchlight aft."

For some minutes the "Pollard" ran under water.

"I'm sure we're a little astern, now," said Captain Jack. "I'll take a lift up into the atmosphere."

With that the "Pollard," which had been running not more than five feet below the surface of the water, rose gently.

"Jove!" murmured Commander Ennerling.

"Did you work by calculation, Benson, or guesswork?"

"I calculated the distance as nearly as I could," replied Jack Benson quietly.

"Then you're a marvel, lad," cried Commander Ennerling, admiringly.

It was little wonder that the Naval officer was astounded. For the "Pollard" had emerged barely a hundred feet to the starboard of the gunboat's line of course, and barely two hundred feet astern.

"The rest is going to be easy," laughed Captain Jack, confidently. "The trick is as good as played on the 'Massapequa.'"

He gave the wheel a hard turn to bring the nose of the submarine about.

"There's your gleeful friend, Eph Somers," announced Commander Ennerling, pointing ahead as the "Pollard" came about.

A bare eighth of a mile away, directly in the track of the gunboat, sat Eph on his door. Those in the tower could not quite make him out in the night, but they could see the circles described by the lighted lantern that Eph was swinging.



CHAPTER XVIII

EPH ENJOYS BEING RESCUED

In going that last eighth of a mile the gunboat's speed was gradually slowed.

It was a pretty piece of ship-handling. The "Massapequa" lost headway gradually a hundred feet from where Eph sat solemnly blinking back at the sailors' faces along the forward starboard rail.

An officer's uniform showed at the edge of the bridge, as he called:

"Ahoy, there!"

"Ahoy, yourself," answered Eph. "And another one for courtesy."

"Don't get funny, boy!" admonished the officer on the bridge. "What's the matter with you?"

"Nothing," Somers replied. "But; say! Can you spare a cushion."

"How did you come to be there, boy?"

"Floated," admitted Eph, truthfully.

"How did you ever get six miles off the coast on that float you're on?"

"Can't remember," replied Eph, dubiously.

"How long have you been out here on the water?"

"Ever since February, 1976," Eph Somers asserted, solemnly.

"Crazy!" muttered the officer to himself. "We'll have to get him aboard and turn him over to the officers at the next port. I'll try him on one more question."

Raising his voice, he called:

"What's your business? Do you follow the sea?"

"Say, you haven't caught me leading it anywhere, have you?" inquired Eph, wonderingly.

"If we throw you a rope, will you try to catch it?"

"Yep, or a beefsteak, either," Somers declared, promptly.

"Send the boy a rope," directed the officer on the bridge. "Be careful not to sweep him off the float. The lad doesn't seem over-bright."

Though this remark was not intended for his ears, Eph caught it nevertheless.

"Not bright, am I?" muttered Eph, to himself. "Gracious, what a lot of company I have in the world, then!"

Through the air the rope, deftly thrown, came swirling. Eph caught his end of the line in a manner to make the officer say to himself:

"That boy has followed the sea. He knows as much about life on salt water as I do."

Very deliberately Eph bent over, fastening his end of the line around the knob on the stateroom door.

"Haul in, my hearties," he hailed.

Eph stood up, balancing himself nicely while the sailors hauled the slack until the door lay bumping against the side hull of the gunboat.

"Look out," sang out Eph. "Little Willie, the Boy Dewey, is coming on board."

With that he began to climb the rope, hand over hand, until he reached the rail and clambered over, standing dripping on the deck.

"Say," remarked a petty officer, "you left the line fast to that raft."

"Certainly," nodded Eph, with cool assurance. "That's so you can haul the door on board, too. Mother'd make a fuss if I got home without the door to her ice chest."

"Shall we haul the door aboard, sir?" called the petty officer to the bridge.

"Yes," nodded the young officer up there.

So that came aboard, too, almost in a jiffy.

Eph, with a very wide grin on his face, stood regarding the sailors who had curiously gathered around him.

"Where are you from?" asked one of the seamen.

"Just in from the salt water," Eph assured him.

"Let the boy alone, men," warned the officer on the bridge. "I'll have the guard take care of him for the night. In the morning I'll report the case to the captain. But bring the boy up here for a moment."

Two sailors thereupon escorted Eph to the bridge. The officer in charge looked him over curiously.

"Now, young man," began the young officer, "have you anything to tell me about yourself!"

"Yes," volunteered Eph.

"Go ahead."

"I'm wet."

"Boy, you're in the wrong place to try to get funny," came the stern rebuke. "I guess I know what you need."

Just at that instant the sounds of a decided though indistinct commotion came from aft.

"Then shake," begged Eph, offering his hand. "I know, too, what you need."

"What is it that you think I need?" demanded the officer, suspiciously, eyeing the boy closely.

"You need to get wise," declared Somers, promptly. Then, noting that the sounds from aft had caught the officer's quick ear, the submarine boy added, with another grin:

"By the time you've found out the meaning of the rumpus aft you'll know a lot more."

Over in one corner of the bridge a cadet midshipman had stood silent during this talk. Turning to him, the watch officer said hurriedly:

"I leave you in charge here. Look after this boy."

Then the watch officer ran quickly down from the bridge, making his way aft.

No wonder there was excitement on the after part of the gunboat.

Captain Jack Benson, after heading the "Pollard" about, had run as close as he, or rather, Hal, dared. Hastings was at the wheel, much of the upper hull of the boat being now out of water. Jack was forward, on the upper hull, with a line, one end of which was made fast to the platform deck. At the other end of the line was an iron bolt for weight.

Close in under the stern of the gunboat, slightly to starboard, stole the "Pollard." Jack, balancing himself, made a cast of the line. The iron bolt shot up, past the stern flagstaff, then down into the water astern again.

With the gunboat lying to, the submarine could move only with the barest headway. The instant he saw that the line had passed around the base of the flagstaff, watchful Hal Hastings set the reverse deck control in order to keep from bumping the "Massapequa." Next, the submarine stole quietly over towards port, Jack, with a boathook, gathering in the line that he had thrown around the flagstaff. This end he made fast in a trice.

"The marine guard, if there is one, didn't see the line flying," whispered Jack, gliding back over the "Pollard's" hull to the platform deck. "I don't think I'll be caught now until I'm on that other boat's deck."

"Good work! Fine!" whispered Commander Ennerling, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "Here's the note."

Captain Jack slipped the folded paper in his pocket, then hastened back to the line. Hal ran the submarine far enough back to leave the double line all but taut. Seizing the rope with both hands, Jack made his way swiftly up to the gunboat's stern rail.

In another twinkling he was over. It was not until his feet touched the deck that the slight noise caught the marine sentry's ear, causing him to wheel about.

"Halt!" hailed the marine, throwing his gun to port. "What are you doing there?"

"I've a message for your commanding officer," Jack answered, halting with a click of his heels as he brought them together.

"Where did you come from?" demanded the marine, wonderingly.

"Are you the commanding officer?" questioned Jack. "If not, take me to him."

"Corporal of the guard!" bawled the marine.

Almost in a jiffy the corporal was there.

"Corporal," said Jack, crisply, "I've a message, in writing, and an official message, too, for your commanding officer."

"I'll take it to him, then," said the corporal. "Or shall I conduct you to his quarters?"

"You may take it to him," agreed Jack, holding out the folded paper.

"Sentry, keep your eyes on this stranger," ordered the corporal of the marine guard, as he received the paper.

A moment or two later, the commanding officer of the "Massapequa" was reading this brief but astounding communication:

Commanding Officer, U.S.S. "Massapequa": You are towing the submarine torpedo boat "Pollard" astern. Technically and theoretically, haven't you lost your ship? (signed) Ennerling, Commander, U.S.N.

With an explosive remark the gunboat's commander snatched up his cap, darting aft. The corporal, whose curiosity was aroused, judged that he was expected to follow, and did so.

"What's this nonsense about towing a submarine torpedo boat?" demanded the gunboat's commander, reaching deck aft.

"Wh-what, sir!" stammered the marine sentry, presenting arms.

"Where did this boy come from?" demanded the Naval officer.

"I—I don't—" began the sentry, but his superior, leaving him, rushed to the flagstaff.

"Sentry, what were you doing? What was everyone else doing?" cried the gunboat's commander. "Did you think it a part of our cruise to serve as mooring for stray torpedo boats? You—come here, you blockhead!"

The corporal got there ahead of the private, looking down in utter bewilderment at the sight of the "Pollard" riding the waves so saucily just astern of the gunboat's hull.

"Did you come aboard from the submarine?" questioned the gunboat's commander, wheeling upon Jack Benson.

"Yes, sir."

"Ahoy, 'Massapequa,'" floated up in Ennerling's tones. "Is that you, Braylesford?"

"Aye, Ennerling, and a shabby old trick you've played on us!"

Commander Ennerling's hearty laughter came up from below.

"Captain John Benson, the young man who came over your stern rail, is the genius who planned the joke," called up Ennerling.

"But with your approval, eh?"

"Of course, Braylesford."

"Then, Ennerling, I'm sorry I can't have the pleasure of putting you in irons," nodded Lieutenant Commander Braylesford, dryly.

"Let down a rope ladder, and I'll come aboard for a moment, Braylesford."

The watch lieutenant, who had hurried aft at this juncture, stood waiting respectfully for a word with his superior.

"What have you to report, Lieutenant?" demanded Braylesford.

"We stopped, sir, to rescue a boy afloat on a door. He's in bathing suit, and gives none but the most idiotic replies to my questions."

"He must be part of this outfit," retorted the lieutenant commander, pointing below at the submarine, at which the watch lieutenant was now staring with wide-open eyes.

"Yes; that's Eph Somers, one of our crew," smiled Captain Jack. "He was turned loose on the door to take up your attention, while we did the tie-behind trick."

A rope ladder having been lowered, Commander Ennerling, by nimble use of the tow-line, had succeeded in reaching it, and he now came over the rail, chuckling.

"It's on the 'Massapequa,' I admit," grinned Braylesford.

"On me, I'm afraid," pronounced the watch lieutenant, with a half-groan.

"Don't feel badly about it, gentlemen," laughed Commander Ennerling. "Jack Benson is the same lad who stole up under the battleship 'Luzon,' and painted the name, 'Pollard,' in sixfoot letters on the hull of the battleship as a reminder of his call. The lad is a sea-joker of the first order."

"He ought to be in the Navy," retorted Braylesford, then turned, with a smile, to offer his hand to the submarine boy.

"Oh, he will be, surely enough, if war-times ever come upon us again," replied the commander.

Word was now sent to conduct Eph aft.

"Get aboard your own craft and dress; then come on board and join us in the ward-room," invited Braylesford.

"I'm afraid the lad can't," said Commander Ennerling. "He and one other, Hastings, are the only members of the crew that will be left on the submarine if you keep Benson here to talk with him."

Within two minutes the two craft were on their way south. The members of the Naval board, Messrs. Farnum and Pollard and Captain Jack were entertained in the ward-room of the gun-boat, while Hal and Eph ran the submarine along some two hundred yards to the westward. It was a jolly time, indeed, in the "Massapequa's" ward-room, for Naval officers are keen to enjoy a good joke, and Jack's exploit was voted a prime one.

At the end of an hour, however, the "Pollard" was signaled to lie to, the gunboat doing the same. It was time to break up the ward-room party. The visitors went down the side gangway to a small boat, and were transferred to the submarine.

"The Navy has something to talk about, now, wherever officers meet for dinner, or social talk in the ward-room," declared Commander Ennerling. "At the same time, Benson, your ingenuity and skill have shown us how easy it is for such a boat as this to destroy any warship afloat. And now, for Dunhaven and a long sleep—if we don't run into further big adventures on this eventful night."



CHAPTER XIX

JACK STUMBLES UPON A BIG SURPRISE

"Busy, Farnum?"

"At this moment, not especially."

"I'm glad of that."

George Melville's attire was particularly fashionable this morning, three days after the first trial trip run, when he dropped in at the boatbuilder's office, finding the latter there alone.

Mr. Melville's eyes were twinkling, his face beaming. He had the whole appearance of a man who is satisfied with himself and anxious to please others.

"I've come to hold out the olive branch, Farnum, if anything of the sort is needed," continued the capitalist.

"It isn't. Nothing is needed here but a good decision from the United States Government," replied Jacob Farnum, briefly.

"Ahem! Now, see here, Farnum, of course I understand that you had abundant reasons for feeling offended the other day. But this state of affairs ought not to last between us. You have a splendid type of boat, but you need more money in order to push your yard properly. You need a lot more of building plant here."

"Yes," assented Mr. Farnum.

"Now, on the terms that I was inclined to refuse before, I am ready to supply a sum even greater than was at first spoken of," and the man beamed on Mr. Farnum.

"I no longer care to talk business with you, Mr. Melville."

"Why not?"

"We need not go into that. I bid you good day, Mr. Melville."

"You don't seem to know what you're doing, Farnum. I control millions. I also have some influence—in Washington," and the man strode from the room, leaving Jacob Farnum a bit shaken but not repenting his decision not to deal with George Melville.

"One other road is open to Melville if he but knows it," thought the boatbuilder. "One hundred and ten thousand dollars' worth of bills for materials are now a few days overdue. My creditors have faith in me, but Melville, with his money, could buy up these bills by offering a bonus and could then press me for immediate payment. If only Washington did not move, so slowly!" and the man groaned.

That same evening about ten o'clock the submarine boys were on their way from the village to the "Pollard" when they heard the fire alarm. They were in front of the volunteer fire house, and were at once pressed into service to take the place of some of the young firemen who were not at hand.

"Look!" shouted Eph Somers. "The fire is in the Melville boatyard!"

The volunteer firemen beat down the big gate of the yard with lusty blows and rolled the hand engine inside and, coupling the hose, threw a stream of water on a fiercely burning shed. Jack Benson, relieved of his task of pulling the engine, went toward the big shed where the submarine was under construction—at least, there was no other place on the premises that such work could be carried on.

Just as Jack reached the big shed some firemen battered down the door in order to turn a stream of water on the fire there. The flames lighted up the place with an intensive light, leaving no corner unilluminated. Jack, on the qui vive with interest and curiosity, looked within.

"Empty, oh-ho! What do you know about that!"

Hal Hastings came up just then and Jack said:

"See that, Hal? The Melvilles have been putting up a show of building a submarine to beat ours. This fire betrays the fact that no boat is being built here. Nothing here but iron plates and the hammers with which the workmen have been beating every day!"

"Of all idiotic things!" exclaimed Hal.

The three submarine boys came upon Mr. Farnum standing in the watching crowd and gleefully told him of the empty shed.

"That might have helped a week ago," said the boatbuilder. "I fear we're beyond help now, boys." He had already told them in confidence of the financier's threat.

Just then Melville came along. Mr. Farnum and the boys would have ignored him, but he stepped up to the group and snapped:

"You're a fine bunch! Some of my workmen tell me that you young rascals were sneaking about my yards and set fire to the sheds."

"That will do, Mr. Melville. We'll listen to no such talk," and before the boys could speak or Melville reply Mr. Farnum pushed the boys before him out of the crowd.

"All those fellows heard him say that, and some of them will believe it!" cried Hal.

"That's bluff on his part, and silly bluff, at that," said Jack. "These firemen can say where we were when the alarm came in."

"But not where we were when the fire started," grumbled Eph.

"The fire's practically out; we'd all better go home now," said Mr. Farnum.



CHAPTER XX

CONCLUSION

The next afternoon Commander Ennerling of the United States Navy reported to Messrs. Farnum and Pollard that the naval board had witnessed the tests of the submarine and were ready to report to the authorities. They did not conceal the fact that the boat had made a favorable impression, then they continued:

"You have a crew of experts, though they are very young. John Benson especially is a genius."

"We are well aware of that, gentlemen," replied Mr. Farnum beamingly.

Soon after the naval men had taken their train for Washington, David Pollard came into Mr. Farnum's office, carrying a valise and a brief case and announced that he was going away for a time where he could not be reached to rest and study and think.

It was the third day after this that Jack, wishing to see Mr. Farnum in regard to some supplies for the "Pollard," went to his office.

"He's not been here since three o'clock yesterday," said his stenographer.

"Out of town?" asked Jack.

"I wish I knew."

Jack called up Mr. Farnum's house and got his wife on the telephone. To his question she replied:

"I got a note last night not to worry if he was late getting home. But he has not come in yet," and her voice had a catch in it.

Jack and his chums were greatly worried. Had Melville played some trick on the boatbuilder?

"I'm going ashore," said Eph the next morning, as soon as he had eaten his breakfast in the submarine cabin.

"For anything especial?" asked Jack.

"First, I want to know if anything's yet known of Mr. Farnum. Then, you know that Don Melville's in town. Why? His father's left and all the pounding workmen at his fake yard are gone, too. Something needs explaining."

"He's trying to find out whom he can bribe into saying we set fire to the yard," said Hal bitterly.

"Oh, on second thought Melville would conclude that would be too risky to do," observed Jack.

"Maybe—maybe not. I'm going over to look about and listen."

In less than an hour Eph Somers, agog with excitement, was back on the "Pollard."

"Say, fellows, that Potter fellow that got into Mr. Pollard's room and stole the papers broke jail last night. Now we know what Don Melville was here for! He had a hand in that!"

So far, the young fellow had refused to talk.

"Bribed by the Melvilles," Hal had declared. "But they'll find that expensive, for he'll continue to bleed them, now he knows how."

Jack, who usually reserved judgment until he knew some facts on which to build, was inclined this time to agree with Eph, and Hal was certain that Somers was right.

"It would be to their advantage to have Potter disappear before they begin their dirty work against Mr. Farnum," Hal insisted.

"I telephoned to Mrs. Farnum and she reports 'nothing new,'" continued Eph. "It's queer."

Just then the boys heard a hail and saw David Pollard, bag and brief case in hand, on the shore signaling to them.

"Where's Farnum?" he asked as soon as he was on the submarine.

"We'd, any of us, give six months' salary to know that, Mr. Pollard," said Jack, and went on to tell what had been taking place.

"That spells ruin for us," groaned the inventor, who knew how things stood financially.

"Do you think, Mr. Pollard, that we'd better suggest to Mrs. Farnum to put a detective on her husband's trail?" asked Eph.

"That trail would probably lead straight through the Melvilles," said Hal bitterly.

"No, don't do that—yet," replied Pollard.

"Mr. Farnum may be away on legitimate business," added Jack slowly.

Hal and Jack rowed Mr. Pollard ashore. After bidding the inventor good-bye, the two youths decided to go to the shipyard. As they were about to enter the office they were accosted by a man who was coming out. He asked them if they were in Mr. Farnum's employ.

"Yes, sir," Jack answered.

"Can you tell me where he is? The office force could give me no information."

"Mr. Farnum is away at present," said Jack.

"I know that! Where is he?"

"Why should I tell a stranger about my employer's business?" asked Jack sharply.

"Here's my card." The man was a Mr. Stevenson, the head of a firm of ship's steel jobbers. "Here's a bill for twenty-five thousand dollars, and Farnum seems to have disappeared. I can sell this at face value, but I don't want to."

"Give Mr. Farnum a chance, Mr. Stevenson," pleaded Jack. "We can guess who is willing to buy that bill from you—for a bonus. The man will be as eager to buy next week as this."

The man looked shrewdly into the eyes of the two boys for a moment, then, with a shrug of his shoulders, turned away, saying:

"I guess this can wait awhile."

The boys, after a brief call in the office, went on to town. Mr. Melville was fond of horses, and still drove a handsome pair.

"There comes Don Melville in his father's carriage. I don't wonder they hang on to it. Those horses are beauties," remarked Hal.

The carriage stopped and Don jumped out.

"Say, you muckers, things are happening and you won't be needed now on the 'Pollard.'"

"Really?" drawled Jack indifferently.

Hal could not summon indifference, or the appearance of it. He said contemptuously:

"Having helped a deserving young man to escape from jail, you'll probably put him on the 'Pollard.'"

Don flushed angrily and turned to the coachman, a brutal looking fellow.

"Johnson, chastise the young puppy!"

Johnson jumped down and raised his whip.

"Give it to them both!" yelled Don.

Just then Grant Andrews, the foreman in the submarine shed, having come up in time to hear and see what was taking place, sprang between the boys and the coachman. He crashed his fist into the man's face, and thus disposed of him, then grabbed the whip and brought it down on Don Melville's shoulders.

"Oh, you'll pay for this!" yelled Don.

"Then I may as well get the most out of it," retorted Andrews, and again brought down the whip, this time coiling it around Don's legs.

Don, seeing a grinning crowd about them and stinging with physical pain and humiliation, turned and sprang into the carriage. Johnson was already there, and they hurried away.

"Grant Andrews! Who would have thought it of you!" exclaimed Hal.

"Sorry I did it, boys?" and the flush on Andrews' face subsided and a grin came to his lips. He was usually an easy-going man, but when aroused he could act.

"We-ll, no," admitted Jack, while Hal laughed. "But come on; let's get out of this crowd."

It was several days after this affair that Mr. Pollard, who was on the submarine, got a message from Mr. Partridge, the superintendent of the yard. The message read:

"Mr. Partridge begs Mr Pollard to come to the office at once."

"I'll go, Jack. But I'm weary and may need support. Come with me, will you?"

On entering the outer office the two found the bookkeeper and the stenographer.

"Mr. Partridge is in the inner office with two men, Mr. Pollard," said the stenographer. "If you need me, I shall be right here."

Mr. Partridge was sitting at Mr. Farnum's unopened desk when the man and the boy entered. Mr. Melville and a man Jack soon learned was a lawyer were sitting facing him. Mr. Partridge rose and gave his chair to Mr. Pollard.

"Mr. Melville insisted on seeing me, Mr. Pollard, and I thought best to send for you," said the superintendent.

Without greeting the financier snapped out:

"Where is Farnum, Pollard?"

"Why do you wish to know?"

"I have a claim against him on an overdue bill."

"I didn't know that Mr. Farnum had any dealings with you," was the quiet reply.

"I bought this bill of Riley and Grannan for electrical supplies only recently. It is for a trifle over ten thousand dollars."

"Surely you believe Mr. Farnum is good for that amount?" queried the inventor softly.

"I'm sorry to say that I do not."

"Then why on earth did you buy the bill?"

The capitalist flushed, but said frankly:

"I expect before the day is over to be the owner of other claims against this business."

"In order to wreck us and take the business?"

"Wreck you? Yes. That is good business. But, Mr. Pollard, we will make it well worth your while to stay with the new owners." He was well aware that the inventor might be on the verge of new inventions that would outdate the "Pollard," and he wanted to keep anything new for himself.

"Nothing would induce me to stay on if Mr. Farnum were forced out, Mr. Melville."

"What's that? Forced out?"

The voice came from the doorway, the door having been noiselessly opened, and Jacob Farnum stood at the entrance.

Melville and the lawyer turned in their seats and the others sprang to their feet.

"Oh, it's you, is it, Melville? What can I do for you?" asked the boatbuilder.

"You can settle for this claim, Farnum," and the capitalist held out the paper.

"Very well. I will write you a check at once. The banks are closed for the day now, but I will deposit the money the first thing in the morning. Until I do that, I have not enough in bank to cover this," and he looked at the paper. "By the way," and he turned to his employees and to the inventor, ignoring the two outsiders, "the Navy Department has accepted the 'Pollard.' I've sold her for one hundred and sixty-five thousand dollars. Have you any more assigned claims against me, Mr. Melville?" he drawled, again facing the capitalist.

"No," snapped the man. He had paid a thousand dollar bonus to get the one he had; and was feeling sick over the outcome.

Just then the door opened and the stenographer showed Broughton Emerson into the room.

"I see you answered my telegram in person, Mr. Emerson," said Farnum, rising from the chair he had taken and shaking hands.

"Yes, I came in person, and quite prepared to furnish the capital you need after the preliminaries are arranged."

George Melville rose and after a brief nod of farewell made for the door, followed by his lawyer. Jack opened the door quietly, then shut it just as softly.

Broughton Emerson invested heavily in Mr. Farnum's yard and the business was incorporated, Mr. Farnum and Mr. Pollard retaining control. The owners praised highly the three boys for the way they had handled the "Pollard" on its trial trip, saying that this was a factor in the Navy's acceptance of the submarine. They also gave the three boys one thousand dollars each and ten shares apiece in the new corporation.

George Melville had spent more than thirty thousand dollars in trying to get hold of Mr. Farnum's business. This, of course, was a total loss. Soon after this, in trying to get control of a railroad by his underhand methods, he lost all of his fortune and had to accept a small clerkship in order to make a living. Don, at the same time, became steward on the yacht of one of his father's old-time acquaintances.

Jacob Farnum had been in Washington, a fact his wife had known after the first day of his absence. He had been secretive about the matter, as he wished if possible to keep George Melville in ignorance of his whereabouts until his business was settled.

Not even with the transfer of the "Pollard" to the Government did the life of the submarine boys aboard their pet boat cease. Some further adventures of these boys are told of in a volume entitled: "The Submarine Boys and the Middies; or, The Prize Detail at Annapolis."

THE END