Mulatto and light vanished, but enraged, baffled, helpless Captain Jack could hear the two dogs moving about ere they settled down on the shelf of flooring overhead.

"No matter how much of a liar that rascal is, he didn't lie to me about the dogs," reflected Jack, his temper cooling, but his bitterness increasing. "They're fighting dogs, and one wrong move would bring them bounding down here on me—the two together. Ugh-gh!"

After a few moments the mulatto reappeared with a light and tossed down three heavy blankets.

"Now, Ah's gwine leave yo' fo' do night," clacked the late guide. "Ef yo' done feel lonesome, yo' jes' whistle de dawgs down to yo'. Dey'll come!"

While the light was still there Benson, in ragging silence, gathered the blankets and arranged them.

"Roll up one fo' a pillow, under yo' haid," grinned the mulatto. "Dat's all right, sah. Wow, good night, Marse Benson. Ef yo' feel lonesome, Marse Benson, jes' whistle fo' de dawgs. Dey'll come!"

The light vanished while the mulatto's sinister words were ringing in the boy's ears. Would the dogs jump down? Jack knew they would, at the first false move or sound on his part. He huddled softly, stealthily, on the blankets, there in the darkness.

As he lay there, thinking, Benson's sense of admiration gradually got to the surface.

"Well, of all the slick man-traps!" he gasped. "I never heard of anything more clever. Nor was there ever a bigger idiot than I, to walk stupidly into this same trap! What's the game, I wonder? Robbery, it must be. And I have a watch, some other little valuables and nearly a hundred and fifty dollars in money on me. Oh, I'm the sleek, fat goose for plucking!"

Lying there, in enforced stillness, Jack Benson, after an hour or so, actually fell asleep. A good, healthy sleeper at all times, he slumbered on through the night. Once he awoke, just a trifle chilled. He heard one of the dogs snoring overhead. Crawling under one of the blankets, Benson went to sleep again.

"Hey, yo', Marse Benson. It am mawnin'. Time yo' was wakin' up an' movin' erlong!"

It was the voice of the same mulatto, calling down into the pit. Again the rays of the lantern illumined the darkness. Both bull-dogs displayed their ferocious muzzles over the edge of the pit. Jack sat up cautiously, not caring to attract unfriendly interest from the dogs.

"Ah want yo' to take off all yo' clothes 'cept yo' undahclothes, an' den Ah'll let down a string fo' yo' to tie 'em to," declared the mulatto, grinning. "Yo' needn't try ter slip yo' wallet, nor nuffin' outer mah sight, cause Ah'll be watchin'. Now, git a hurry on, Marse Benson, or Ah'll done push dem dawgs ober de aidge oh dis flooring."

Jack hesitated only a moment. Then, with a grunt of rage, he began removing his outer garments. Down came a twine, to the lower end of which the boy made fast his garments, one after another. His money and valuables went up in the pockets, for the sharp eyes of the mulatto could not have been eluded by any amateur slight-of-hand.

"Now, yo' cap an' yo' shoes," directed the grinning monster above.

These, too, Benson passed up at the end of the cord. The mulatto disappeared, leaving the two dogs still on guard. At last, back came the light and the yellowish man with it.

"Yo' 'sho' is good picking, Marse Benson," grinned the guide of the night before. "Yo' has good pin feathers. Ah hope Ah'll suttinly meet yo' again."

"I hope we do meet at another time!" Jack Benson flared back, wrathily. The cool insolence of the fellow cut him to the marrow, yet where was the use of disobeying a rascal flanked by two such willing and capable dogs?

"Now, yo' jes' put dese t'ings on, Marse Benson, ef yo' please, sah," mocked the mulatto, tossing down some woefully tattered, nondescript garments, and, after them, a battered, rimless Derby hat and a pair of brogans out at the toes.

"I'll be hanged if I'll put on such duds!" quivered Jack.

"Jes' as yo' please, ob co'se, Marse Benson," came the answer, from above. "But, ef yo' don' put dem t'ings on, yo'll sho'ly hab ter gwine back ter 'Napolis in yo' undahelo's. An' yo's gwine back right away, too, so, ef yo' wants tr gwine back weahin' ernuff clo'es—"

"Oh, well, then—!" ground out the submarine boy, savagely enough.

He attired himself in these tattered ends of raiment. Had he not been so angry he must have roared at sight of his comical self when the dressing was completed.



CHAPTER VIII

A YOUNG CAPTAIN IN TATTERS

"Now yo'll do, Ah reckons."

With that, the mulatto guide of the night before threw down one end of an inch rope.

"Ah reckon yo's sailor ernuff to dim' dat. Come right erlong, 'less yo' wants de dawgs ter jump down dar."

"But they'll tackle me if I come up," objected Jack Benson.

"No, dey won't. Dem dawgs is train' to dis wo'k. Ah done tole yo' dat. Come right erlong. Ah'll keep my two eyes on dem dawgs."

It looked like a highly risky bit of business, but Jack told himself that, now he had been deprived of his valuables, this yellow worthy must be genuinely anxious to be rid of the victim. So he took hold of the rope and began to climb. The mulatto and the dogs disappeared from the upper edge of the pit.

As his head came up above the level of the flooring Benson saw the mulatto and the dogs in the next room, the connecting door of which had been taken from its hinges.

"Come right in, Marse Benson. Dere am' nuffin' gwineter hu't yo'," came the rascal's voice reassuringly. Jack obeyed by stepping into the next room, though he kept watch over the dogs out of the corners of his eyes.

"Now, yo' lie right down on de flo', Marse Benson," commanded the master of the situation. "Ah's gotter tie yo' up, befo' Ah can staht yo' back ter 'Napolis, but dere ain' no hahm gwine come ter yo'."

Making a virtue of necessity, Captain Jack lay down as directed, passing his hands behind his back. These were deftly secured, after which his ankles were treated in the same fashion. Immediately the mulatto, who was strong and wiry, lifted the boy and the lantern together. The dogs remaining behind, Jack was carried out into the yard, where he discovered that daylight was coming on in the East. He was dumped on the ground long enough to permit his captor to lock the door securely. Then the submarine boy was lifted once more, carried around the corner of the house and dumped in the bottom of a shabby old delivery wagon. A canvas was pulled over him, concealing him from any chance passer. Then the mulatto ran around to the seat, picking up the reins and starting the horse.

It seemed like a long drive to the boy, though Benson was certainly in no position to judge time accurately. At last the team was halted, along a stretch of road in a deep woods. The mulatto lifted the submarine boy out to the ground.

"Now, w'en yo's got yo' se'f free, yo' can take de road in dat direckshun," declared the fellow, pointing. "Bimeby yo' come in sight ob de town. Now, Marse Benson, w'at happen to yo' las' night am all in de co'se ob a lifetime, an' Ah hope you ain't got no bad feelin's. Yo' suttinly done learn somet'ing new in de way ob tricks. Good-bye, sab, an' mah compliments to yo', Marse Benson."

With that the guide of the night before swiftly cut the cords at Jack's wrists, then as swiftly leaped to the seat of the wagon, whipping up the horse and disappearing in a cloud of dust.

Jack, having now no knife, and the bonds about his ankles being tied with many hard knots, spent some precious minutes in freeing his feet. At last he stood up, fire in his eyes.

"Oh, pshaw! There's no sense in trying to run after that rascal and his wagon," decided the young submarine skipper. "I haven't the slightest idea what direction he took after he got out of sight, and—oh, gracious! I'm under orders to be aboard the 'Farnum' at eight this morning. And on Mr. Farnum's business, at that!"

Clenching his hands vengefully, Jack started along in the direction pointed out by his late captor. Brisk walking wore some of the edge off his great wrath. Catching a comprehensive glimpse of himself, Jack could not keep back a grim laugh.

"Well, I certainly am a dandy to spring myself on the trim and slick Naval Academy!" he gritted. "What a treat I'll be to the cadets! That is, if the sentry ever lets me through the gate into the Academy grounds."

As he hurried along, Jack Benson decided that he simply could not go to the Naval Academy presenting any such grotesque picture as he did now. Yet he had no money about him with which to purchase more presentable clothes in town. So he formed another plan.

Within a few minutes he came in sight of Annapolis. Hurrying on faster, he at last entered the town. The further he went the more painfully conscious the boy became of the ludicrous appearance that he made. He saw men and women turn their heads to look after him, and his cheeks burned to a deep scarlet that glowed over the sea-bronze of his skin.

"The single consolation I have is that not a solitary person in town knows me, anyway," he muttered. Then he caught sight of a clock on a church steeple—twenty-five minutes of eight.

"That means a fearful hustle," he muttered, and went ahead under such steam that he all but panted. At last he came to the Maryland House, opposite the State Capitol grounds. Into the office of the hotel he darted, going straight up to the desk.

A clerk who had been on duty for hours, and who was growing more drowsy every moment, stared at the boy in amazement.

"See here, you ragamuffin, what—"

"My name is Benson," began the boy, breathlessly. "I'm a guest of the house—arrived last night. I—"

"You, a guest of this house?" demanded the clerk of the most select hotel in the town.

"You—"

That was as far as the disgust of the clerk would permit him to go in words. A score of well-dressed gentlemen were staring in astonishment at the scene. The clerk nodded to two stout porters who had suspended their work nearby.

It had been Jack Benson's purpose to go to his room and keep out of sight, while despatching one of the colored bell-boys of the hotel with a note to Hal Hastings, asking that chum to send him up a uniform and other articles of attire. However, before the young submarine captain fully realized what was happening, the two porters had seized him. Firmly, even though gently, they bustled him out through the entrance onto the street.

"Scat!" advised one of the pair.

Jack started to protest, then realized the hopelessness of such a course. In truth, he did not blame the hotel folks in the least.

"Oh, well," he sighed, paling as soon as the new flush of mortification had died out, "there's nothing for it but to hurry to the Academy. I hope the sentries won't shoot when they see me," he added, bitterly.

Across the State Capitol grounds he hurried, then down through a side street until he arrived at the gate of the Academy grounds.

"Halt!" challenged a sentry, as soon as Jack showed his face through the gateway.

Young Benson stopped, bringing his heels together with a click.

"What do you want? Where are you going?" demanded the marine.

"I know I look pretty tough," Jack admitted, shamefacedly. "But I belong aboard the 'Farnum,' one of the submarines that arrived last night. And I'm due there at this minute. Please don't delay me."

"All right," replied the sentry, after surveying the boy from head to foot once more. Then he added, in a lower tone, with just the suspicion of a grin showing at the corners of his mouth:

"Say, friend, for a stranger, you must have had a high old frolic in the town last night."

Jack frowned. The sentry's grin broadened a bit. As he did not offer to detain the boy longer, Benson hurried on along one of the walks. He took as short a course as he could making straight for the Basin, where he made out the "Hudson" and the two submarines.

"Hey! There's the captain!" shouted Eph, wonderingly, for Somers's eyes were sharp at all times.

Out of the conning tower sprang Hal Hastings, looking eagerly in the direction in which Eph Somers pointed:

"Eh?" muttered another person, lounging near the rail of the gunboat. Then Lieutenant Commander Mayhew, after a keen, wholly disapproving look at the hard-looking figure of a young man at the landing, started, as he muttered:

"Benson, by all that's horrible! How did he come to be in that fearful shape? He must have been in one of the worst resorts within miles of Annapolis!"

"This isn't the first time the young man has come back the worse for wear," the lieutenant commander continued, under his breath. "His friends were loyal enough to him, that time. I wonder if they can be, to-day?"

One of the shore boats, waiting about in the Basin, put young Benson aboard the "Farnum" as soon as he explained who he was. Hal and Eph stood awaiting the coming of their young commander, their faces full of concern and anxiety. Both gripped Jack's hand as soon as he gained the platform deck of the submarine.

"Come below," whispered Hal. "We'll talk there. You need a bath and to get into a uniform as quickly as you can."

This need Jack Benson proceeded to realize without an instant's delay. While he washed himself off, in one of the staterooms aft, he talked through the door, which had been left ajar. He continued his story while he dressed.

"We were fearfully anxious this morning," Hal confessed. "I went to sleep last night, and didn't know of your absence until this morning. Then Eph and I decided to come on down to the boat to see if you were here. We were just planning to send quiet word to the Annapolis police when Eph spotted you coming."

"And Truax?" inquired Captain Jack.

"He and Williamson are forward in the engine-room, now, at breakfast."

"Oh, well, Truax wouldn't know anything about the scrape, anyway," returned Jack. "His name was learned and used—that's all."

"Are you going to try to find that place, catch the mulatto and force the return of your money?" demanded Eph Somers.

"I've got to think that over," muttered Jack, as he drew on a spick-and-span uniform blouse. "I don't know whether there'll be any use in trying to find that mulatto. I haven't the least idea where his place is. Even if I found it, it's ten to one I wouldn't find the fellow there."

"'Farnum,' ahoy!" roared a voice alongside, the voice coming down through the open conning tower.

Eph ran to answer. When he returned, he announced:

"Compliments of Lieutenant Commander Mayhew, and will Mr. Benson wait on the lieutenant commander on board the parent boat?"

"I will," assented Jack, with a wry face, "and here's where I have to do some tall but truthful explaining to a man who isn't in the least likely to believe a word I say. I can guess what Mr. Mayhew is thinking, and is going to keep on thinking!"



CHAPTER IX

TRUAX GIVES A HINT

It was a tailor-made, clean, crisp and new looking young submarine commander who stepped into the naval cutter alongside.

Jack Benson looked as natty as a young man could look, and his uniform was that of a naval officer, save for the absence of the insignia of rank.

Up the side gangway of the gunboat Jack mounted, carrying himself in the best naval style. On deck stood a sentry, an orderly waiting beside him.

"Lieutenant Commander Mayhew will see you in his cabin, sir," announced the orderly. "I will show you the way, sir."

Mr. Mayhew was seated before a desk in his cabin when the orderly piloted the submarine boy in. The naval officer did not rise, nor did he ask the boy to take a seat. Jack Benson was very well aware that he stood in Mr. Mayhew's presence in the light of a culprit.

"Mr. Benson," began Mr. Mayhew, eyeing him closely, "you are not in the naval service, and are not therefore amenable to its discipline. At the same time, however, your employers have furnished you to act, in some respects, as a civilian instructor in submarine boating before the cadets. While you are here on that duty it is to be expected, therefore, that you will conform generally to the rules of conduct as laid down at the Naval Academy."

"Yes, sir," replied Jack.

"As I am at present in charge of the submarine purchased by the United States from your company, and at least in nominal charge of the 'Farnum,' as well, I am, in a measure, to be looked upon, for the present, as your commanding officer."

"Yes, sir," assented the boy.

"You came aboard your craft, this morning, in a very questionable looking condition."

"Yes, sir."

Jack Benson's composure was perfect. His sense of discipline was also exact. He did not propose to offer any explanations until such were asked of him.

"Have you anything to say, Mr. Benson, as to that condition, and how you came to be in it?"

"Shall I explain it to you, sir?"

"I shall be glad to hear your explanation."

Thereupon, the submarine boy plunged into a concise description of what had happened to him the night before. The lieutenant commander did not once interrupt him, but, when Jack had finished, Mr. Mayhew observed:

"That is a very remarkable story, Mr. Benson. Most remarkable."

"Yes, sir, it is. May I ask if you doubt my story?"

Jack looked straight into the officer's eyes as he put the question bluntly. An officer of the Army or of the Navy must not answer a question untruthfully. Neither, as a rule, may he make an evasive answer. So the lieutenant commander thought a moment, before he replied:

"I don't feel that I know you well enough, Mr. Benson, to express an opinion that might be wholly fair to you. The most I can say, now, is that I very sincerely hope such a thing will not happen again during your stay at the Naval Academy."

"It won't, sir," promised Jack Benson, "if I have hereafter the amount of good judgment that I ought to be expected to possess."

"I hope not, Mr. Benson, for it would destroy your usefulness here. A civilian instructor here, as much as a naval instructor, must possess the whole confidence and respect of the cadet battalion. I hope none of the cadets who may have seen you this morning recognized you."

Then, taking on a different tone, Mr. Mayhew informed his young listener that a section of cadets would board the "Farnum" at eleven that morning, another section at three in the afternoon, and a third at four o'clock.

"Of course you will have everything aboard your craft wholly shipshape, Mr. Benson, and I trust I hardly need add that, in the Navy, we are punctual to the minute."

"You will find me punctual to the minute before, sir."

"Very good, Mr. Benson. That is all. You may go."

Jack saluted, then turned away, finding his way to the deck. The cutter was still alongside, and conveyed him back to the "Farnum.

"Mr. Mayhew demanded your story, of course?" propounded Hal Hastings. "What did he think?"

"He didn't say so," replied Jack Benson, with a wry smile, "but he let me see that he thought I was out of my element on a submarine boat."

"How so?"

"Why, it is very plain that Mr. Mayhew thinks I ought to employ my time writing improbable fiction."

"Oh, Mayhew be bothered!" exploded Eph.

"Hardly," retorted Jack. "Mr. Mayhew is an officer and a gentleman. I admit that my yarn does sound fishy to a stranger. Besides, fellows, Mr. Mayhew represents the naval officers through whose good opinion our employers hope to sell a big fleet of submarine torpedo boats to the United States Government.

"Then what are you going to do about it?" asked Hal, as the three boys reached the cabin below.

"First of all, I'm going to rummage about and get myself some breakfast."

"If you do, there'll be a fight," growled Eph Somers. "I'll hash up a breakfast for you."

"And, afterwards?" persisted Hal.

"I'm going to try to win Mr. Mayhew's good opinion, and that of every other naval officer or cadet I may happen to meet."

"Why the cadets, particularly?" asked Eph Somers.

"Because, for one business reason, the cadets are going to be the naval officers of to-morrow, and the Pollard Submarine Boat Company hopes to be building craft for the Navy for a good many years to come."

"Good enough!" nodded Hal, while Eph dodged away to get that breakfast ready.

Sam Truax lounged back in the engine room, smoking a short pipe. With him stuck Williamson, for Eph had privately instructed the machinist from the Farnum yard not to leave the stranger alone in the engine room.

"Why don't you go up on deck and get a few whiffs of fresh air?" asked Truax.

"Oh, I'm comfortable down here," grunted the machinist, who was stretched out on one of the leather-cushioned seats that ran along the Bide of the engine room.

"I should think you'd want to get out of here once in a while, though," returned Truax.

"Why?" asked the machinist. "Anything you want to be left alone here for?"

"Oh, of course not," drawled Truax, blowing out a cloud of tobacco smoke.

"Then I guess I'll stay where I am," nodded Williamson.

"Sorry, but you'll have to stop all smoking in here now," announced Eph, thrusting his head in at the doorway. "There'll be a lot of cadets aboard at eleven o'clock, and we want the air clear and sweet. You'd better go all over the machinery and see that everything is in apple pie order and appearance. Mr. Hastings will be in here soon to inspect it."

"Just what rank does that young turkey-cock hold on board?" sneered Truax, when the door had closed.

"Don't know, I'm sure," replied Williamson. "All I know is that the three youngsters are aboard here to run the boat and show it off to the best advantage. My pay is running right along, and I've no kick at taking orders from any one of them."

"This is where I go on smoking, anyway," declared Truax, insolently, striking a match and lighting his pipe again. Williamson reached over, snatching the pipe from between the other man's teeth and dumping out the coals, after which the machinist coolly dropped the pipe into one of his own pockets.

"If you go on this way," warned Williamson, "Captain Benson will get it into his head to put you on shore in a jiffy, and for good."

"I'd like to see him try it," sneered Sam Truax.

"You'll get your wish, if you go on the way you've been going!"

"Humph! I don't believe the Benson boy carries the size or the weight to put me ashore."

"He doesn't need any size or weight," retorted Williamson, crisply. "If Captain Benson wants you off this boat, it's only the matter of a moment for him to get a squad of marines on board—and you'll march off to the 'Rogues' march'."

"So that's the way he'd work it, eh?" demanded Sam Truax, turning green and ugly around the lips.

"You bet it is," retorted the machinist. "We're practically a part of the United States Navy for these few days, and naval rules will govern any game we may get into."

On that hint things went along better in the engine room. When Hal Hastings came in to inspect he found nothing to criticise.

At the minute of eleven o'clock a squad of some twenty cadets came marching down to the landing in front of the boat house. There Lieutenant Commander Mayhew and one of his engineer officers met them. Two cutters manned by sailors brought the party out alongside, where Jack and Hal stood ready to receive them.

A very natty looking squad of future admirals came aboard, grouping themselves about on the platform deck. It was rather a tight squeeze for so many human beings in that space.

After greeting the submarine boys, Mr. Mayhew turned to the cadets, calling their attention to the lines and outer construction of the "Farnum." Then he turned to the three submarine boys, signing to them to crowd forward.

"These young gentlemen," announced the lieutenant commander, "are Mr. Benson, Mr. Hastings and Mr. Somers. All three are thoroughly familiar with the Pollard type of boat. As the Navy has purchased one Pollard boat, and may acquire others, it is well that you cadets should understand all the working details of the Pollard Submarine Company's crafts. A few of you at a time will now step into the conning tower, and Mr. Benson will explain to you the steering and control gear used there."

Half a dozen of the cadets managed to squeeze into the conning tower. Jack experienced an odd feeling, half of embarrassment, as he explained before so many attentive pairs of eyes. Then another squad of cadets took the place of the first on-lookers. After a while all had been instructed in the use of the conning tower appliances.

"Mr. Benson," continued the lieutenant commander, "will now lead the way for all hands to the cabin. There he will explain the uses of the diving controls, the compressed air apparatus, and other details usually worked from the cabin."

Down below came the cadets, in orderly fashion, without either haste or lagging. Having warmed up to his subject, Jack Benson lectured earnestly, even if not with fine skill. At last he paused.

"Any of the cadets may now ask questions," announced Lieutenant Commander Mayhew.

There was a pause, then one of the older cadets turned to Jack to ask:

"What volume of compressed air do you carry at your full capacity?"

"Mr. Benson's present status," rapped Mr. Mayhew, quickly, "is that of a civilian instructor. Any cadet who addresses Mr. Benson will therefore say 'sir,' in all cases, just as in addressing an officer of the Navy."

The cadet so corrected, who was at least twenty-one years old, flushed as he glanced swiftly at sixteen-year-old Jack. To say "sir" to such a youngster seemed almost like a humiliation. Yet the cadet repeated his question, adding the "sir." Jack quickly answered the question. Then two or three other questions were asked by other cadets. It was plain, however, that to all of the cadets the use of "sir" to so young a boy appealed, at least, to their sense of humor.

Through the engine room door Sam Truax and Williamson stood taking it all in. Sam saw a flash in the eye of one big cadet when the question of "sir" came up.

Presently the squad filed into the engine room. Here Hal Hastings had the floor for instruction. He did his work coolly, admirably, though he asked Jack Benson to explain a few of the points.

Then the questions began, directed at Hal. This time none of the cadets, under the watchful eyes of Mr. Mayhew, forgot to say "sir" when speaking to Hastings.

Sam Truax edged up behind the big cadet whose eyes he had seen flash a few moments before.

"Go after Benson, good and hard," whispered Truax.

The cadet looked keenly at Truax.

"You can have a lot of fun with Benson," whispered Truax, "if you fire a lot of questions at him, hard and fast. Benson is a conceited fellow, who knows a few things about the boat, but you can get him rattled and red-faced in no time."



CHAPTER X

A SQUINT AT THE CAMELROORELEPHANT

The big cadet wheeled upon Jack.

"Mr. Benson, how long have you been engaged on submarine boats, sir?"

"Since July," Jack replied.

"July of this year?"

"Yes."

"And it is now October. Do you consider that enough time, sir, in which to learn much about submarine boats?"

"That depends," Skipper Jack replied, "upon a man's ability in such a subject."

"Is it long enough time, sir, for a boy?" That was rather a hard dig. Instantly the other cadets became all attention.

"It depends upon the boy, as it would upon the man," Jack answered.

"Do you consider, Mr. Benson, that you know all about submarine boats, sir?"

"Oh, no."

"Who does, sir?"

"No one that I ever heard of," Jack answered, "few men interested in submarine boats know much beyond the peculiarities of their own boats."

"And that applies equally to boys, sir?"

"Yes," Jack smiled.

"Do you consider yourself, sir, fully competent to handle this craft?"

"I'd rather someone else would say it," Jack replied. "My employers, though, seem to consider me competent."

"What is this material, sir?" continued the cadet, resting a hand on a piston rod.

"Brass," Benson replied, promptly.

"Do you know the specific gravity and the tensile strength of this brass?"

Before Jack could answer Mr. Mayhew broke in, crisply:

"That will do, Mr. Merriam. Your questions appear to go beyond the limits of ordinary instruction, and to partake more of the nature of a cross-examination. Such questions take up the time of the instruction tour unnecessarily."

Cadet Merriam flushed slightly, as he saluted the naval officer. Then the cadet's jaws settled squarely. He remained silent.

A few more questions and the hour was up.

Lieutenant Commander Mayhew gave the order for the cadets to pass above and embark on the cutters. He remained behind long enough to say to the three submarine boys:

"You have done splendidly, gentlemen—far better than I expected you to do. If you manage the sea instruction as well, in the days to come, our cadets will have a first-class idea of the handling of the Pollard boats."

"I wish, sir," Jack replied, after thanking the officer, "that the cadets were not required to say 'sir' to us. It sounds odd, and I am quite certain that none of the young men like it."

"It is necessary, though," replied Mr. Mayhew. "They are required to do it with all civilian instructors, and it would never do to draw distinctions on account of age. Yes; it is necessary."

When the second squad of cadets arrived, in the afternoon, the three submarine boys found themselves ready for their task without misgivings. Eph took more part in the explanations than he had done in the forenoon. Then came a third squad of cadets, to be taken over the same ground. The young men of both these squads used the "sir" at once, having been previously warned by one of the naval officers.

"That will be all for to-day, Mr. Benson, and thank you and your friends for some excellent work," said Lieutenant Commander Mayhew, when the third squad had filed away.

"Say, for hard work I'd like this job right along," yawned Eph Somers, when the three were alone in the cabin. "Just talking three times a day—what an easy way of living!"

"It's all right for a while," agreed Jack. "But it would grow tiresome after a few weeks, anyway. Lying here in the basin, and talking like a salesman once in a while, isn't like a life of adventure."

"Oh, you can sigh for adventure, if you wish," yawned Eph. "As for me, I've had enough hard work to appreciate a rest once in a while. Going into the town to-night, Jack?"

"Into town?" laughed the young skipper. "I went last night—and some of the folks didn't do a thing to me, did they?"

"Aren't you going to report the robbery to the police?" demanded Hal, opening his eyes in surprise.

"Not in a rush," Jack answered. "If I do, the police may start at once, and that mulatto and his friends, being on the watch, will take the alarm and get away. If I wait two or three days, then the mulatto's crowd will think I've dropped the whole thing. I reckon the waiting game will fool them more than any other."

"Yes, and all the money they got away from you will be spent," muttered Eph.

Jack, none the less, decided to wait and think the matter over.

Supper over, the submarine boys, for want of anything else to do, sat and read until about nine o'clock. Then Jack looked up.

"This is getting mighty tedious," he complained. "What do you fellows say to getting on shore and stretching our legs in a good walk?"

"In town?" grinned Eph, slyly.

Jack flushed, then grinned.

"No!" he answered quietly; "about the Academy grounds."

"I wonder if it would be against the regulations for a lot of rank outsiders like us to go through the grounds at this hour?"

"Rank outsiders?" mimicked Jack Benson, laughing. "You forget, Hal, old fellow, that we're instruct—hem! civilian instructors—here."

"I wonder, though, if it would be in good taste for us to go prowling through the grounds at this hour?" persisted Hal.

"There's one sure way to find out," proposed Benson. "We can try it, and, if no marine sentry chases us, we can conclude that we're moving about within our rights. Come along, fellows."

Putting on their caps, the three went up on the platform deck. The engine room door was locked and Williamson and Truax had already turned in. There was a shore boat at the landing. Jack sent a low-voiced hail that brought the boat out alongside.

"Will it be proper for us to go through the Academy grounds at this hour?" Jack inquired of the petty officer in the stern.

"Yes, sir; there's no regulation against it. And, anyway, sir, you're all stationed here, just now."

"Thank you. Then please take us ashore."

At this hour the walks through the grounds were nearly deserted. A few officers, and some of their ladies living at the naval station, were out. The cadets were all in their quarters in barracks, hard at study, or supposed to be.

For some time the submarine boys strolled about, enjoying the air and the views they obtained of buildings and grounds. Back at Dunhaven the air had been frosty. Here, at this more southern port, the October night was balmy, wholly pleasant.

"I wonder if these cadets here ever have any real fun?" questioned Eph Somers.

"I've heard—or read—that they do," laughed Hal.

"What sort of fun?"

"Well, for one thing, the cadets of the upper classes haze the plebe cadets a good deal."

"Humph! That's fun for all but the plebes. Who are the plebes, anyway?"

"The new cadets; the youngest class at the Academy," Hal replied.

"What do they do to the plebe?" Eph wanted to know.

"I guess the only way you could find that out, Eph, would be to join the plebe class."

"Reckon, when I come to Annapolis, I'll enter the class above the plebe," retorted Somers.

The three submarine boys had again approached the cadet barracks building.

"Here comes a cadet now, Eph," whispered Jack. "If he has the time, I don't doubt he'd be glad to answer any questions you may have for him."

Young Benson offered this suggestion in a spirit of mischief, hoping the approaching cadet, when questioned, would resent it stiffly. Then Eph would be almost certain to flare up.

The cadet, however, suddenly turned, coming straight toward them, smiling.

"Good evening, gentlemen," was the cadet's greeting.

"Good evening," was Jack's hearty reply.

"You've never been here before, have you, sir?"

"Never," Jack confessed.

"Then I take it you have never, sir, seen the camelroorelephant?"

"The cam—" began Eph Somers.

Then he stopped, clapping both hands to his right jaw.

"Won't you please hand that to us in pieces?" begged Eph, speaking as though with difficulty.

The cadet laughed heartily, then added:

"Don't try to pronounce it, gentlemen, until you've seen the camelroorelephant. It's a cadet joke, but it's well worth seeing. Shall I take you to it?"

"Why, yes, if you'll be good enough," Jack assented, heartily.

The cadet glanced quickly about him, then said in a low voice:

"This way, please, gentlemen."

He led the strangers quickly around the end of barracks to an open space in the rear. Here he halted.

"Gentlemen, I must ask you to close your eyes, and keep them closed, on honor, until I ask you to open them again. You won't have to keep your eyes closed more than sixty seconds before the camelroorelephant will be ready for inspection. Now, eyes closed, please."

Lingering only long enough to make sure that his request had been met, the cadet stole noiselessly away.

Nor was it many seconds later when all three of the submarine boys began to feel suddenly suspicious.

"I'm going to open my eyes," whispered Eph.

"You're on honor not to," warned Jack Benson, also in a whisper.

"I didn't give my word," retorted Eph, "and I'm going to—oh, great shades of Santiago!"

The very genuine note of concern in Eph's voice caused Jack and Hal to open their own eyes instantly.

Nor could any of the three repress a quick start.

From all quarters naval cadets were advancing stealthily upon them. Something in the very attitude and poise of the young men told the submarine boys that these naval cadets were out for mischief.

"We're in for it!" breathed Jack, in an undertone. "We're in for something real and startling, I reckon. Fellows, brace up and take your medicine, whatever it is, like men!"



CHAPTER XI

BUT SOMETHING HAPPENED!

Nor was Jack's guess in the least wrong. Even had the submarine boys attempted to bolt they would have found it impossible. They were surrounded.

The cadets closed quickly in upon them. There were more than thirty of these budding young naval officers.

It was Cadet Merriam who stepped straight up to Jack, giving him a grotesque and exaggerated salute, as he rumbled out:

"Good evening, SIR!"

Like a flash Jack Benson comprehended. These cadets intended fully to even up matters for having been obliged to say "sir" to these very youthful "civilian instructors."

"Good evening," Jack smiled.

"You have come to see the camelroorelephant, SIR?"

"We've been told that we might have that pleasure," Jack responded, still smiling.

"Perhaps you may," retorted Cadet Merriam, "though, first of all, it will be necessary to prove yourselves worthy of the privilege, SIR."

"Anything within our power," promised Jack.

"Then, SIR, let me see you all three stand 'at attention.'"

"At attention" is the rigid attitude taken by a United States soldier or sailor when in the presence of his officers. Jack had already seen men in that attitude, and did his best to imitate it in smart military manner. Eph and Hal did likewise.

"No, no, no, you dense blockheads!" uttered Cadet Midshipman Merriam. "'At attention' upside down—on your hands!"

The other cadet midshipmen now hemmed in closely about the three. Jack thought he caught the idea. He bent over, throwing his feet up in the air and resting on his hands. Unable to keep his balance, he walked two or three steps.

"I didn't tell you to walk your post, blockhead!" scowled Mr. Merriam. "Stand still when at attention."

Jack tried, but of course made a ludicrous failure of standing still on his hands. So did Hal and Eph. The latter, truth to tell, didn't try very hard, for his freckled temper was coming a bit to the surface.

"You're the rawest recruits, the worst landlubbers I've ever seen," declared Cadet Midshipman Merriam, with severe dignity. "Rest, before you try it any further."

The smile had all but left Jack Benson's lips, though he tried to keep it there. Hal Hastings made the most successful attempt at looking wholly unconcerned. Eph's face was growing redder every minute. It is a regrettable fact that Eph was really beginning to want to fight.

"See here," ordered Mr. Merriam, suddenly, taking Jack by the arm, "you're a horse, a full blooded Arab steed—understand?"

He gave young Benson a push that sent that youngster down to the ground on all fours.

"You're General Washington, out to take a ride on your horse," announced Mr. Merriam, turning to Hal. "It's a ride for your health. Do you understand? It will be wholly for your health to take that ride!"

Hal Hastings couldn't help comprehending. With a sheepish grin he sat astride of Jack Benson's back as the latter stood on all fours.

"Go ahead with your ride, General," called Mr. Merriam.

Jack pranced as best he could, on all fours, Hal making the load of his own weight as light as he could. Over the ground the pair moved in this nonsensical ride, the cadets following and grinning their appreciation of the nonsense.

Two of the young men followed, holding Eph by the arms between them. Mr. Merriam now turned upon the unhappy freckled boy.

"Down on all fours," ordered Mr. Merriam. "You're the measly dog that barked at General Washington on that famous ride. Bark, you wretched yellow cur—bark, bark, bark!"

Though Eph Somers was madder than ever, he had just enough judgment remaining to feel that the wisest thing would be to obey instructions. So, on all fours, Eph raced after Jack, barking at him.

"See how frightened the horse is," muttered one of the midshipmen.

Taking the hint, Jack shied as well as he could.

"That's all," said Mr. Merriam, at last. "All of that, at least."

As the three submarine boys rose, each found himself gently held by a pair of cadet midshipmen. It was a more or less polite hint that the ordeal was not yet over. Mr. Merriam turned to whisper to one of the cadets, who darted inside the barracks building. He was back, promptly, carrying a folded blanket on his arm.

A grin spread over the faces of the assembled cadet midshipmen. The bearer of the blanket at once unfolded it. As many of the cadets as could got hold of the edges, bending, holding the blanket spread out over the ground.

Jack Benson's two captors suddenly hurled him across the length of the blanket with no gentle force. Instantly the cadets holding the blankets straightened up, jerking it taut. Up into the air a couple of feet bounded Jack. As his body came down the cadets holding the blanket gave it a still harder jerk. This time Jack shot up into the air at least four feet. It was the same old blanket-tossing, long popular both in the Army and Navy. Every time Jack landed the blanket was given a harder jerk by those holding it. Benson began to go higher and higher.

And now the cadets broke into a low, monotonous chant, in time to their movements. It ran:

Sir, sir, surcingle!

Sir, sir, circle!

Sir, sir, with a shingle—

Sir, sir, sir!

As regular as drumbeats the cadets ripped out the syllables of the refrain. At each word Jack Benson's body shot higher and higher. These young men were experts in the gentle art of blanket-tossing. Ere long the submarine boy was going up into the air some eight or nine feet at every tautening of the blanket.

As for escape, that was out of the question. No sooner did the submarine boy touch the blanket than he shot skyward again. Had he desired to he could not have called out. The motion and the sudden jolts shook all the breath out of him.

"Ugh! Hm! Pleasant, isn't it?" uttered Hal Hastings, grimly, under his breath.

"If they try to do that to me," whispered Eph, hotly, under his breath, "I'll fight."

"More simpleton you, then!" Hal shot back at him in warning. "What chance do you think you stand against a crowd like this?"

Just as suddenly as it had begun the blanket tossing stopped. Yet, hardly had Jack been allowed to step out than Hal Hastings was unceremoniously dropped athwart the blanket. The tossing began again, to the chant of:

Sir, sir, surcingle!

Sir, sir, circle!

Right plentifully were these cadet midshipmen avenging themselves for having had to say "sir" to these young submarine boys that day.

"Woof!" breathed Jack, as soon as breath entered his body again. Eph clenched his fists tightly, as Hal continued to go higher and higher. But at last Hastings's ordeal was over.

"I suppose they'll try that on me!" gritted Eph Somers to himself. "If they do—"

That was far as he got, for Eph was suddenly flung upon the blanket.

Sir, sir, surcingle!

Then how Eph did go up and down! It was as though these cadet midshipmen knew that it would make Eph mad, madder, maddest! These budding young naval officers fairly bent to their work, tautening and loosening on the blanket until their muscles fairly ached.

It was lofty aerial work that Eph Somers was doing. Up and up—higher and higher! Without the need of any effort on his own part young Somers was now traveling upward at the rate of ten or eleven feet at every punctuated bound.

Then, suddenly, there came a sound that chilled the blood of every young cadet midshipman hazer present.

"Halt! Where you are!"

Under the shadow of the barracks building a naval officer had appeared. He now came forward, a frown on his face, eyeing the culprits.

It is no merry jest for cadet midshipmen to be caught at hazing! And here were some thirty of them—red-handed!



CHAPTER XII

JACK, BENSON, EXPERT EXPLAINER

At the first word of command from the officer several of the cadet midshipmen who were near enough to an open doorway vanished through it.

As the officer strode through the group of startled young men a few more, left behind his back, made a silent disappearance.

There were left, however, as the officer looked about him, sixteen of the young men, all too plainly headed and led by Cadet Midshipman Merriam.

"Young gentlemen," said the officer, severely, "I regret to find so many of you engaged in hazing. It is doubly bad when your victims are men outside the corps. And, if I mistake not, these young gentlemen are here as temporary civilian instructors in submarine work."

Mr. Merriam and his comrades made no reply in words. Nor did their faces express much. They stood at attention, looking stolidly ahead of them, though their faces were turned toward the officer. It was not the place of any of them to speak unless the officer asked questions.

Severe as the hazing had been, however, Jack and Hal, at least, had taken it all in good part. Nor was Jack bound by any of the rules of etiquette that prevented the cadets from speaking.

"May I offer a word, sir?" asked Jack, wheeling upon the officer.

"You were one of the victims of a hazing, were you not?" demanded the officer, regarding Jack, keenly.

"Why, could you call it that, sir?" asked Jack, a look of innocent surprise settling on his face. "We called it a demonstration—an explanation."

"Demonstration? Explanation?" repeated the officer, astonished in his turn. "What do you mean, Mr.—er—"

"Benson," Jack supplied, quietly.

"I think you would better tell me a little more, Mr. Benson," pursued the unknown naval officer.

"Why, it was like this, sir," Jack continued. "My two friends—Hastings and Somers—and myself were talking about the West Point and Annapolis hazings, of which we had heard and read. We were talking about the subject when a cadet came along. I suggested to Somers that we ask the cadet about hazing. Well, sir, to make a long story short, some of the cadets undertook to show us just how hazing is—or used to be—done at Annapolis."

"Oh! Then it was all thoroughly goodnatured, all in the way of a joke, to show you something you wanted to know?" asked the naval officer, slowly.

"That's the way I took it," replied Jack. "So did Hastings and Somers. We've enjoyed ourselves more than anyone else here has."

This was truth surely enough, for, in the last two minutes, not one of the cadet midshipmen present could have been accused of enjoying himself.

"Then what took place here, Mr. Benson, really took place at your request?" insisted the naval officer.

"It all answered the questions that we had been asking," Jack replied, promptly, though, it must be admitted, rather evasively.

"This is your understanding, too, Mr. Hastings?" demanded the officer.

"Surely," murmured Hal.

"You, Mr. Somers?"

"I—I haven't had so much fun since the gasoline engine blew up," protested Eph.

"We entered most heartily into the spirit of the thing," Jack hastened on to say, "and feel that we owe the deepest thanks to these young gentlemen of the Navy. Yet, if our desire to know more about the life—that is, the former life—of the Academy is to result in getting our entertainers into any trouble, we shall never cease regretting our unfortunate curiosity."

For some moments the naval officer regarded the three submarine boys, solemnly, in turn. From them he turned to look over the cadet midshipmen. The latter looked as stolid, and stood as rigidly at attention, as ever.

"Under this presentation of the matter," said the officer, after a long pause, "I am not prepared to say that there has been any violation of discipline. At least, no grave infraction. However, some of these young gentlemen are, I believe, absent from their quarters without leave. Mr. Merriam?"

"I have permission to be absent from my quarters between nine and ten, sir."

"Mr. Caldwell?"

"Absent from quarters without permission, sir."

So on down through the list the officer ran. Nine of the young men proved to have leave to be away from their quarters. The other seven did not have such permission. The names of these seven, therefore, were written down to be reported. The seven, too, were ordered at once back to their quarters.

Having issued his instructions, the naval officer turned and walked away. Jack and his comrades, too, left the scene.

Yet they had not gone far when they heard a low hail behind. Turning, they saw Cadet Midshipmen Merriam hastening toward them.

"Gentlemen," he said, earnestly, as he reached them, "it may not be best for me to be seen lingering here to talk with you. But my comrades wanted me to come after you and to say that we think you bricks. You carried that off finely, Mr. Benson. None of us will ever forget it."

"It wasn't much to do," smiled Jack, pleasantly.

"It was quick-witted of you, and generous too, sir," rejoined Mr. Merriam, finding it now very easy to employ the "sir." "Probably you agree with us that no great crime was committed, anyway. But, just the same, hazing is under a heavy ban these days. If you hadn't saved the day as you did, sir, all of our cadet party might have been dismissed the Service. Those absent from quarters without leave will get only a few demerits apiece. We have that much to thank you for, sir, and we do. All our thanks, remember. Good night, sir."

"My courage was down in my boots for a while," confessed Hal Hastings, as the three chums continued their walk back to the Basin.

"When?" demanded Eph, grimly. "When your boots—and the rest of you—were so high up in the air over the blanket?"

"No; when the cadets were caught at it," replied Hal.

"Say, Jack," demanded Eph, "do you ever give much thought to the future life?"

"Meaning the life in the next world?" questioned Benson.

"Yes."

"I sometimes give a good deal of thought to it," Jack confessed.

"Then where do you expect to go, when the time comes?"

"Why?"

"After the whoppers you told that officer?"

"I didn't tell him even a single tiny fib," protested Jack, indignantly.

"Oh, you George Washington!" choked Eph Somers.

"Well, I didn't," insisted Jack. "Now, just stop and think. Weren't we all three discussing hazing?"

"Yes."

"Then that part of what I told the officer was straight. Now, Eph, when we saw that first cadet come along, didn't I suggest to you to ask him about hazing?"

"Ye-es," admitted Somers, thoughtfully.

"Then, didn't the cadet midshipmen offer to show us all about hazing pranks, and didn't they do it?"

"Well, rather," muttered Eph.

"Now, young man, that's all I told the officer, except that we enjoyed our entertainment greatly."

"Did we enjoy it, though?" demanded Eph Somers, bridling up.

"I did," replied Jack, "and I spoke for myself. I enjoyed it as I would enjoy almost any new experience."

"So did I," added Hal, warmly. "It was rough—mighty rough—but now I know what an Annapolis hazing is like, and I'm glad I do."

"Well, I want to tell you I didn't enjoy it," blazed Eph. "It was a mighty cheeky—"

"Then why did you let the officer imagine you enjoyed it?" taunted Jack.

While Hal put in, slyly:

"Eph, you're too quick to talk about others fibbing. From the evidence just put in, it's evident that you're the only one of the three who fibbed any. Won't you please walk on the ether side of the road? I never did like to travel with liars."

"Oh, you go to Jericho!" flared Eph. But, as he walked along, he blinked a good deal, and did some hard thinking.

"I'll tell you," broke out Jack, suddenly, "who thanks us even more than the cadets them selves do."

"Who?" queried Hal.

"That officer who caught the crowd at it."

"Do you think he cared?"

"Of course he did," said Jack, positively.

"He'd rather have gone hungry for a couple of days than have to report that bunch for hazing."

"Then why was he so infernally stiff with the young men?"

"He had to be; that's the answer. That officer, like every other officer of the Navy detailed here, is sworn to do his full duty. So he has to enforce the regulations. But don't you suppose, fellows, that officer was hazed, and did some hazing on his own account, when he was a cadet midshipman here years ago? Of course! And that's why the officer didn't question us any more closely than he did. He was afraid he might stumble on something that would oblige him to report the whole crowd for hazing. He didn't want to do it. That officer, I'm certain, knew that, if he questioned us too closely, he'd find a lot more beneath the surface that he simply didn't want to dig up."

"Would you have told the truth, if he had questioned you searchingly, and pinned you right down?" demanded Eph Somers.

"Of course I would," Jack replied, soberly. "I'm no liar. But I feel deeply grateful to that officer for not being keener."

Before nine o'clock the next morning news of the night's doings back of barracks had spread through the entire corps of cadet midshipmen.

With these young men of the Navy there was but one opinion of the submarine boys—that they were trumps, wholly of the right sort.

As a result, Jack, Hal and Eph had hundreds of new friends among those who will officer the Navy of the morrow.

Not so bad, even just as a stroke of business!



CHAPTER XIII

READY FOR THE SEA CRUISE

For the next ten days things moved along without much excitement for the submarine boys.

During that time they had an average of four sections a day of cadet midshipmen to instruct in the workings of the Pollard type of submarine torpedo boat.

During the last few days short cruises were taken on the Severn River, in order that the middies might practise at running the motors and handling the craft. At such times one squad of midshipmen would be on duty in the engine room, another in the conning tower and on the platform deck.

Of course, when the midshipmen handled the "Farnum," under command of a Navy officer, the submarine boys had but little more to do than to be on board. Certainly they were not overworked. Yet all three were doing fine work for their employers in making the Navy officers of the future like the Pollard type of craft.

After waiting a few days Jack Benson reported to the Annapolis police his experience with the mulatto "guide." The police thought they recognized the fellow, from the description, and did their best to find him. The mulatto, however, seemed to have disappeared from that part of the country.

There came a Friday afternoon when, as the last detachment of middies filed over the side into the waiting cutter, Lieutenant Commander Mayhew announced:

"This, Mr. Benson, completes the instruction desired in the Basin and in the river. To-morrow and Sunday you will have for rest. On Monday, at 10 A.M., a section will report aboard for the first trip out to sea. Then you will show our young men how the boat dives, and how she is run under water. As none of our cadet midshipmen have ever been below in a submarine before, you will be sure of having eager students."

"And perhaps some nervous ones," smiled Skipper Jack.

"Possibly," assented Mr. Mayhew. "I doubt it, though. Nervousness is not a marked trait of any young man who has been long enrolled at the Naval Academy."

"Can we have a slight favor done us, Mr. Mayhew?" Jack asked.

"Any reasonable favor, of course."

"Then, sir, we'd like to spend a little time ashore, as we've been confined so long aboard. If I lock up everything tight on the boat until Sunday night, may we know that the 'Farnum' will be under the protection of the marine guard?"

"I feel that there will not be the slightest difficulty in promising you that," replied Mr. Mayhew. "I will telephone the proper authorities about it as soon as I go on shore."

All hands on board were pleased over the prospect of going ashore, with the exception of Sam Truax.

"You don't need any guard on the boat," he protested. "I don't want to go ashore. Leave me here and I'll be all the guard necessary."

"We're all going ashore," Jack replied.

"But I haven't any money to spend ashore," objected Truax.

"I'll let you have ten dollars on account, then," replied Jack, who was well supplied with money, thanks to a draft received from Jacob Farnum.

"I don't want to go ashore, anyway."

"I'm sorry, Truax, but it doesn't really make any difference. The boat will be closed up tight, and there wouldn't be any place for you to stay, except on the platform deck."

"You're not treating me fairly," protested Sam Truax, indignantly.

"I'm sorry you think so. Still, if you're not satisfied, all I can do is to pay you off to date. Then you can go where you please."

"I'm here by David Pollard's order. Do you forget that?"

"He sent you along to us, true," admitted Jack, "but I have instructions from Mr. Farnum to dismiss anyone whose work on board I don't like. Now, Truax, you're a competent enough man in the engine room, and there's no sense in having to let you go. You're well paid, and can afford the time on shore. I wouldn't make any more fuss about this, but do as the rest of us are going to do."

"Oh, I'll have to, then, since you're boss here," grumbled Truax, sulkily.

"I don't want to make it felt too much that I am boss here," Jack retorted, mildly. "At the same time, though, I'm held responsible, and so I suppose I'll have to have things done the way that seems best to me."

Sam Truax turned to get his satchel. The instant his back was turned on the young commander Sam's face was a study in ugliness.

"Oh, I'll take this all out of you," muttered the fellow to himself. "I don't believe, Jack Benson, you'll go on the cruising next week. If you do, you won't be much good, anyway!"

Ten minutes later a shore boat landed the entire party from the submarine craft.

"Going with the rest of us, Truax?" inquired Jack, pleasantly.

"No; I'm going to find a boarding-house. That will be cheaper than the hotel."

So the other four kept straight on to the Maryland House, giving very little more thought to the sulky one.

It was not until after supper that Eph turned the talk back to Sam Truax.

"I don't like the fellow, at all," declared young Somers. "He always wants to be left alone in the engine room, for one thing."

"And I've made it my business, regular," added Williamson; the machinist, "to see that he doesn't have his wish."

"He's always sulky, and kicking about everything," added Eph. "I may be wrong, but can't get it out of my head that the fellow came aboard on purpose to be a trouble-maker."

"Why, what object could he have in that?" asked Captain Jack.

"Blessed if I know," replied Eph. "But that's the way I size the fellow up. Now, take that time you were knocked senseless, back in Dunhaven. Who could have done that? The more I think about Sam Truax, the more I suspect him as the fellow who stretched you out."

"Again, what object could he have?" inquired Benson.

"Blessed if I know. What object could anyone have in such a trick against you? It was a state prison job, if the fellow had been caught at the time."

"Well, there's one thing Truax was innocent of, anyway," laughed Captain Jack. "He didn't have any hand in the way I was tricked and robbed by the mulatto."

"Blamed if I'm so sure he didn't have a hand in that, too," contended Eph Somers, stubbornly.

"Yet Mr. Pollard recommended him," urged Jack.

"Yes, and a fine fellow Dave Pollard is—true as steel," put in Hal Hastings, quietly. "Yet you know what a dreamer he is. Always has his head in the air and his thoughts among the stars. He'd as like as not take a fellow like Truax on the fellow's own say-so, and never think of looking him up."

"Oh, we've no reason to think Truax isn't honest enough," contended Jack Benson. "He's certainly a fine workman. As to his being sulky, you know well enough that's a common fault among men who spend their lives listening to the noise of great engines. A man who can't make himself heard over the noise of a big engine hasn't much encouragement to talk. Now, a man who can't find much chance to talk becomes sulky a good many times out of ten."

"We'll have trouble with that fellow, Truax, yet," muttered Eph.

"Oh, I hope not," Jack answered, then added, significantly:

"If he does start any trouble he may find that he has been trifling with the wrong crowd!"

Very little more thought was given to the sulky one. The submarine boys and their companion, Williamson, enjoyed Saturday and Sunday ashore.

All of them might have felt disturbed, however, had they known of one thing that happened.

The naval machinists aboard the first submarine boat, the "Pollard," now owned by the United States Government, found something slightly out of order with the "Pollard's" engine that they did not know exactly how to remedy.

Sam Truax, hanging around the Basin that Sunday forenoon, was called upon. He gladly responded to the call for help. For four hours he toiled along in the "Pollard's" engine room. Much of that time he spent there alone.

The job done, at last, Truax quietly received the thanks of the naval machinists and went ashore again.

Yet, as he turned and walked toward the main gate of the grounds, there was a smile on Sam Truax's face that was little short of diabolical.

"Now, if I can only get the same chance at the 'Farnum's' engines!" he muttered, to himself. "If I can, I think Mr. Jack Benson will find himself out of favor with his company, for his company will be out of favor with the Navy Department at Washington!"



CHAPTER XIV

THE "POLLARD" GOES LAME

"The submarine boats when out in the Bay will keep abreast of the 'Hudson,' two hundred yards off on either beam. The speed will be fourteen knots when the signal is given for full speed. The general course, after leaving the mouth of the Bay will be East."

Such were the instructions called from the rail of the gunboat, through a megaphone, Monday forenoon.

On each of the submarine craft were sixteen cadet midshipmen, out for actual practice in handling a submarine in diving, and in running under water. On board the gunboat were eighty more cadets. Thus a large class of the young men were to receive instruction during the cruise, for the detachments aboard the submarines could be changed at the pleasure of Lieutenant Commander Mayhew, who was in charge of the cruise.

Captain Jack, his own hands on the conning tower wheel, ran the "Farnum" out into the river, first of all. Then the "Pollard," under command of a naval officer, followed. Both backed water, then waited for the "Hudson" to come out, for the gunboat was to lead the way until the Bay was reached. Then the formation ordered would be followed.

Though it was nearing the first of November, the day, near land, was ideally soft and balmy. As many of the midshipmen as could sought the platform deck of the "Farnum." Those, however, who belonged to the engineer division were obliged to spend the greater part of their time below.

By the time that the three craft were in the ordered formation, abreast, and well started down Chesapeake Bay, the parent vessel signaled that the designated cadets were to take charge of the handling of the submarine boats.

Jack Benson cheerfully relinquished the wheel to Cadet Midshipman Merriam, and stepped out on to the platform deck. At need, as in case of accident or misunderstanding of signals or orders, Benson was still in command. While all ran smoothly, however, Mr. Merriam enjoyed command.

Hal, being likewise relieved in the engine room, came also out on deck.

"Where's Eph?" inquired the young commander of the "Farnum."

"In the engine room," smiled Hal. "He said I could leave, if I wanted, but that he'd be hanged if he'd let Truax out of his sight while I was away."

"Eph seems to have Truax on the brain," laughed Jack.

"Well, Truax is a queer and surly one," Hal admitted. "This morning he gives one the impression of peeking over his shoulder all the time to see whether he's being watched."

"So Eph means to humor him by watching him, eh?" asked Jack.

Hal laughed quietly.

Some of the cadets who were familiar with the landmarks of Chesapeake Bay pointed out many of the localities and sights to the two submarine boys.

At last, however, Eph was obliged to call for Hal.

"You know, Hal, old fellow, I've got to look out for the feeding of a lot of boarders to-day," complained Eph, whimsically.

This task of Eph's took time, though it was not a hard one. The food for the cadets had been sent aboard. Eph had to make coffee and heat soup. For the rest, cold food had to do. The young men, on this trip, were required to wait on themselves.

Hal found Sam Truax sitting moodily in a corner of the engine room, though there was something about the fellow's appearance that suggested the watchfulness of a cat.

"Why don't you go on deck a while, Truax?" asked Hal, kindly.

"Don't want to," snapped the fellow, irritably. So Hal turned his back on the man.

"Doesn't that part need loosening up a bit, sir?" asked the cadet in charge of the engineer division.

"Yes," replied Hastings, after watching a moment; "it does."

"I'll do it, then," proposed Truax, roughly. He attempted to crowd his way past Hal, but the latter refused to be crowded, and stood his ground until the midshipman passed him a wrench. Then Hastings loosened up the part.

"You might let me do a little something," growled Sam Truax, in a tone intentionally offensive.

"Don't forget, Truax, that I'm in command in this department," retorted Hal, in a quieter tone than usual, though with a direct, steady look that made Sam Truax turn white with repressed wrath.

"You won't let me forget it, will you?" snarled the fellow.

"No; for I don't want you to forget it, and least of all on this cruise," responded Hal Hastings.

"You don't give me any chance to—"

"Silence!" ordered Hal, taking a step toward him.

Sam Truax opened his mouth to make some retort, then wisely changed his mind, dropping back into his former seat.

The noon meal was served to all hands. By the time it was well over the mouth of the Bay was in sight, the broad Atlantic rolling in beyond.

The sea, when reached, proved to be almost smooth. It was ideal weather for such a cruise.

Then straight East, for an hour they went, getting well out of the path of coasting vessels.

"Hullo! What in blazes does that mean?" suddenly demanded Hal, pointing astern at starboard.

The "Pollard" lay tossing gently on the water, making no headway. Hardly ten seconds later the "Hudson" signaled a halt.

Then followed some rapid signaling between the gunboat and the submarine that had stopped. There was some break in the "Pollard's" machinery, but the cause had not yet been determined.

"Blazes!" muttered Jack, uneasily. "It couldn't have happened at a worse time. This looks bad for our firm, Hal!"

The "Farnum" now lay to, as did the "Hudson," for the officer in command of the "Pollard" signaled that his machinists were making a rapid but thorough investigation of the unfortunate submarine's engines.

Finally, a cutter put off from the "Hudson," with a cadet midshipman in charge. The small boat came over alongside, and the midshipman called up:

"The lieutenant commander's compliments, and will Mr. Benson detail Mr. Hastings to go over to the 'Pollard' and assist?"

"My compliments to the lieutenant commander," Jack replied. "And be good enough to report to him, please, that Mr. Hastings and I will both go."

"My orders, sir, are to convey you to the 'Pollard' before reporting back to the parent vessel," replied the midshipman.

The cutter came alongside, taking off the two submarine boys, while Eph Somers devoted himself to watching Sam Truax as a bloodhound might have hung to a trail.

Arrived on board the good, old, familiar "Pollard," Jack and Hal hurried below.

"The machinery is too hot to handle, now, sir," reported one of the naval machinists, "but it looks as though something was wrong right in there"—pointing.

"Put one of the electric fans at work there, at once," directed Hal. "Then things ought to be cool enough in half an hour, to make an examination possible."

After seeing this done, the two submarine boys left for the platform deck, for the engine room was both hot and crowded.

"How long is it going to take you, Mr. Hastings?" asked the naval officer in command of the "Pollard."

"Half an hour to get the parts cool enough to examine, but I can't say, sir, how long the examination and repairs will take."

So the officer in command signaled what proved to be vague and unsatisfactory information to Lieutenant Commander Mayhew.

"This is a bad time to have this sort of thing happen," observed the naval officer in charge.

"A mighty bad time, sir," Jack murmured.

"And the engines of the 'Pollard' were supposed to be in first-class condition."

"They were in A-1 condition, when the boat was turned over to the Navy," Jack responded.

"Do you imagine, then, Mr. Benson, that some of the naval machinists have been careless or incompetent?"

"Why, that would be a wild guess to make, sir, when one, remembers what high rank your naval machinists take in their work," Jack Benson replied.

"And this boat was sold to the Navy with the strongest guarantee for the engines," pursued the officer in charge.

Jack and Hal were both worried. The sudden break had a bad look for the Pollard boats, in the success of which these submarine boys were most vitally interested.

At last, from below, the suspected parts of the engine were reported to be cool enough for examination. The naval officer in charge followed Jack and Hal below.

Taking off his uniform blouse and rolling up his sleeves, Hal sailed in vigorously to locate the fault. Machinists and cadets stood about, passing him the tools he needed, and helping him when required.

At last, after disconnecting some parts, Hal drew out a long, slender brass piston.

As he held it up young Hastings's face went as white as chalk.

"Do you see this?" he demanded, hoarsely.

"Filed, crazily, and it also looks as though the inner end had been heated and tampered with," gasped Jack Benson.

"This, sir," complained Hal, turning around to face the naval officer in charge, "looks like a direct attempt to tamper with and damage the engine. Someone has done this deliberately, sir. It only remains to find the culprit."

"Then we'll find out," retorted the naval officer, "if it takes a court of inquiry and a court martial to do it. But are you sure of your charge, Mr. Hastings?"

"Am I sure?" repeated Hal, all the soul of the young engineer swelling to the surface. "Take this piston, sir, and examine it. Could such a job have been done, unless by sheer design and intent?"

"Will the lieutenant permit me to speak?" asked the senior machinist, taking a step forward and saluting.

"Yes; go ahead."

"Yesterday morning, sir," continued the senior machinist, "we thought the engines needed some overhauling by someone more accustomed to them than we were. We saw one of the machinists of the 'Farnum,' sir, hanging about on shore. So we invited him aboard and asked him to look the engines over."

"Describe the man," begged Jack.

The senior machinist gave a description that instantly denoted Sam Truax as the man in question.

"Did you leave him alone in here, at any time?" demanded Hal.

"Let me see. Why, yes, sir. The man must have been alone in here some three-quarters of an hour."

Jack and Hal exchanged swift glances.

There seemed, now, very little need of carrying the investigation further.



CHAPTER XV

ANOTHER TURN AT HARD LUCK

When he could trust himself to speak Hal Hastings addressed the naval officer.

"I think Mr. Benson and myself understand, sir, how it happened that this damage was done. There are extra parts in the repair kit. In twenty minutes, sir, I think we can have the engines running smoothly once more."

The naval officer was wise enough not to press the questioning further just then. Instead, he went on deck.

Working like beavers, and with the assistance of others standing about, Jack and Hal had the piston replaced and all the other parts in place within fifteen minutes. Then, once more, Hal turned on the gasoline, set the ignition, and watched.

The engine ran as smoothly as ever.

"There won't be any more trouble, unless someone is turned loose here with files and a blast lamp," pronounced Hal. Then he and his chum sought the deck, to report to the officer in charge.

"You think we're in running order, now?" asked that officer.

"If you give the speed-ahead signal, sir, I think you'll feel as though you had a live engine under your deck," Hal assured him.

The signal was given, the "Pollard" immediately responding. She cut a wide circle, at good speed, returning to her former position, where the propellers were stopped.

"You suspect your own machinist, who was aboard?" asked the naval officer, in a low tone, of the submarine boys.

"If you'll pardon our not answering directly, sir," Captain Jack replied, "we want to have more than suspicions before we make a very energetic report on this strange accident. But we shall not be asleep, sir, in the matter of finding out. Then we shall make a full report to Mr. Mayhew."

"Success to you—and vigilance!" muttered the naval officer.

The gunboat's cutter came alongside, transferring Jack and Hal back to the "Farnum."

Hal went directly below to the engine room.

"You fixed the trouble with the 'Pollard'?" demanded Eph Somers, eagerly.

"Yes," Hal admitted.

"What was wrong?"

"Why, I don't know as I'd want to commit myself in too offhand a way," replied Hal, slowly, as though thinking.

"What appeared to be at the bottom of the trouble?"

"Why, it may have been that one of the naval machinists, not understanding our engines any too well, allowed one of the pistons to get overheated, and then resorted to filing," Hal replied.

"What? Overheat a piston, and then try to correct it with a file!" cried young Somers, disgustedly. "The crazy blacksmith! He ought to be set to shoeing snails—that's all he's fit for."

"It looks that way," Hal assented, smiling.

Artful, clever Hal! He had carried it all off so coolly and naturally that Sam Truax, who had been closely studying Hastings's face from the background, was wholly deceived.

"This fellow, Hastings, isn't as smart as I had thought him," muttered Truax, to himself.

The interrupted cruise now proceeded, the parent vessel signaling for a temporary speed of sixteen knots in order to make up for lost time.

Twenty minutes later came the signal from the "Hudson:"

"At the command, the submarines will dash ahead at full speed, each making its best time. During this trial, which will end at the firing of a gun from the parent vessel, all cadets will be on deck."

Word was immediately passed below, and all the cadets of the engineer division came tumbling up.

To these, who had been in the engine room constantly for hours, the cool wind blowing across the deck was highly agreeable.

For the speed dash Captain Jack Benson had again taken command. He passed word below to Eph Somers to take the wheel in the conning tower.

Eph, therefore, came up with the last of the cadets from below. In the excitement of the pending race it had not been noticed by any of the submarine boys that Williamson was already on deck, aft. That left Sam Truax below in sole possession of the boat's engine quarters.

The gunboat now fell a little behind, leaving the two submarines some four hundred yards apart, but as nearly as possible on a line.

"Look at the crowd over on the 'Pollard's' decks," muttered Hal. "They're all Navy folks over there."

"And they mean to beat such plain 'dubs' as they must consider us," laughed Captain Jack, in an undertone.

"Will they beat us, though?" grinned Hal Hastings "You and I, Jack, happen to know that the 'Farnum' is a bit the faster boat by rights."

Suddenly the signal broke out from the gunboat.

"Race her, Eph!" shouted Captain Jack.

"Aye, aye, sir!"

Eph Somers's right hand caught at the speed signals beside the wheel. He called for all speed, the bell jangling merrily in the engine room.

A little cheer of excitement went up from the cadets aboard the "Farnum" as that craft shot ahead over the waters. The cadets were catching the thrill of what was virtually a race. At the same time, though, these midshipmen could not help feeling a good deal of interest in the success of the "Pollard," which was manned wholly by representatives of the Navy.

In the first three minutes the "Farnum" stole gradually, though slowly, ahead of the "Pollard." Then, to the disgust of all three of the submarine boys, the other craft was seen to be gaining. Before long the "Pollard" had the lead, and looked likely to increase it. Already gleeful cheers were rising from the all-navy crowd on the deck of the other submarine.

Behind the racers sped the "Hudson," keeping just far enough behind to be able to observe everything without interfering with either torpedo craft.

From looking at the "Pollard" Captain Jack glanced down at the water. His own boat's bows seemed to be cutting the water at a fast gait. The young skipper, knowing what he knew about both boats, could not understand this losing to the other craft.

"The Navy men must know a few tricks with engines that we haven't guessed," he observed, anxiously, to young Hastings.

"I don't know what it can be, then," murmured Hal, uneasily. "There aren't so confusingly many parts to a six-cylinder gasoline motor. They aren't hard engines to run. More depends on the engine itself than on the engineer."

"But look over there," returned Captain Jack Benson. "You see the 'Pollard' taking the wind out of our teeth, don't you?"

"Yes," Hal admitted, looking more puzzled. "Do you think our engines are doing the topnotch of their best?" asked Benson.

"Yes; for Williamson is a crackerjack machinist. He knows our engines as well as any man alive could do."

"Do you think it would do any good for you to go below, Hal?"

"I will, if you say so," offered Hastings. "Yet there's another side to it."

"What?"

"Williamson might get it into his head that I went below because I thought he was making a muddle of the speed. As a matter of fact, he knows every blessed thing I do about our motors, and Williamson is loyal to the core."

"I know," nodded Captain Jack. "I'd hate to hurt a fine fellow's feelings. Yet—confound it, I do want to win this burst of speed. It means, perhaps, the quick sale of this boat to the Navy. If we're beaten it means, to the Secretary of the Navy, that he already has our best boat, and he might not see the need of buying the 'Farnum' at all."

"Give Williamson two or three minutes more," begged Hal. "You might tell Eph, though, to repeat, and repeat, the signal for top speed. That'll show Williamson we're losing."

Jack Benson walked to the conning tower, instructing Eph Somers in a low tone.

"I've signaled twice, since the first time," Eph replied. "But here goes some more."

"I wonder what's going wrong with our engines, then," muttered Captain Jack, uneasily.

"It ain't in careless steering, anyway," grumbled Eph. "I'm going as straight as a chalk line."

"I noticed that," Captain Jack admitted.

He continued to look worried, for, by this time, the "Pollard" was at least a good two hundred and fifty yards to the good in the lead.

"I'm afraid," muttered Hal, rejoining Benson, "that I'll simply have to go below."

"I'm afraid so," nodded Jack. "We simply can't afford to lose this or any other race to the 'Pollard.'"

"Williamson knows that fully as well as we do, though," Hal Hastings went on. "And Williamson—"

Of a sudden Hal stopped short. He half staggered, clutching at a rail, while his eyes stared and his lips twitched.

"Why—why—there's Williamson—aft on the deck!" muttered Hastings.

"What!"

Jack, too, wheeled like a flash. Back there in a crowd of cadets stood the machinist upon whom the submarine boys were depending for the best showing that the "Farnum" could make.

"Williamson up here!" gasped Hal. "And—"

"That fellow, Truax, all alone with the motors!" hissed Captain Jack. Then, after a second or two of startled silence:

"Come on, Hal!"

The naval cadets were too much absorbed in watching the race to have overheard anything. Williamson, too, standing at the rail, looking out over the water, had not yet discovered that Hal Hastings was up from the engine room.

Jack Benson stole below on tip-toe, though with the machinery running so much stealth was not necessary. Right behind him followed Hal.

As the two gained the doorway of the engine room Sam Truax had his back turned to them, and so did not note the sudden watchers.

There was a smile of malicious triumph on Truax's face as he turned a lever a little way over, thus decreasing the ignition power of the motors.

Both Jack and Hal could see that the gasoline flow had been turned on nearly to the full capacity. It was the poor ignition work that was making the motors respond so badly. A little less, and a little less, of the electric spark that burned the gasoline, and air mixture—that was the secret of the gradually decreasing speed, while all the time it looked as though the "Farnum" was doing her level best to win the race.

Whistling, as he bent over, Sam Truax caught up a long, slender steel bar. With this he stepped forward, intent upon his next wicked step.

"Gracious! The scoundrel is going to run that bar in between the moving parts of the engine and bring about a break-down!" quivered Hal.

Sam Truax stood watching for his chance to thrust the steel bar in just where it would inflict the most damage. Then raising the bar quickly, he poised for the blow.

"Stop that, you infernal sneak!" roared Jack Benson, bounding into the engine room.



CHAPTER XVI

BRAVING NOTHING BUT A SNEAK

"You—here?" hissed Truax, wheeling about.

He had not had time to make the thrust with the steel bar.

Instead, as he wheeled, he raised it above his head, drawing back in an attitude of guard.

As he did so, a vile oath escaped Truax's lips.

"Put that bar down!" commanded Jack Benson, standing unflinchingly before the angry rascal.

"I'll put it down on your head, if you don't get out of here!" snarled the wretch.

"Put it down, and consider yourself off duty here, for good and all," insisted Jack.

"Are you going to get out of here, or shall I brain you?" screamed Truax, his face working in the height of his passion.

"Neither," retorted Captain Jack, coolly. "I command here, and you know. Put that bar down, and leave the engine room."

"Come and take the bar from me—if you dare!" taunted the fellow, a more wicked gleam flashing in his eyes.

"Hal!" called Jack, sharply.

"Aye!"

"Call two or three of the cadets down here. Don't make any noise about it."

This order was called without Benson's turning his head. He still stood facing the sneak while Hal sped away.

"Now, I've got you alone!" gloated Truax. "I'll finish you!"

A scornful smile curled Jack's lips as he gazed steadily back at his foe.

"Truax, you're a coward, as well as a sneak."

"I am—eh?"

With another nasty oath Truax stepped quickly forward, the steel bar upraised.

He took but one step, however, for Captain Jack Benson had not retreated an inch.

Nor did Jack have his hands up in an attitude of guard.

"Are you going to put that bar down, Truax?" the young skipper demanded, in a voice that betrayed not a tremor.

"No."

"Then you'll have to make good in a moment, for we're going to attack you."

"Bah! I can stave in two or three heads before any number of you could stop me," sneered the fellow, in an ugly voice.

"You could, but you won't dare."

"I won't?"

"Not you!"

At that instant rapid steps were heard. Hal Hastings returned with three of the midshipmen, behind them Williamson trying to crowd his way into the scene.

"Just tell us what you want, Mr. Benson," proposed Cadet Merriam, amiably.

"This fellow has been 'doping' our engines," announced Captain Jack. "And now he's threatening to stand us off. We'll close in on him from both sides. If he tries to use that steel bar on any of us—"

"If he does, he'll curse his unlucky star," declared Midshipman Merriam. "Come on, gentlemen. We'll show him some of the Navy football tactics!"

The three midshipmen approached Truax steadily from the right. Jack, Hal and Williamson stepped in on the left.

With a yell like that of a maniac Sam Truax swung the bar.

Having to watch both sides at once, however, he made a fizzle of it. The bar came down, but struck the floor.

Then, with a yell, the midshipmen leaped in on one side, Jack leading the submarine forces on the other. Mr. Merriam's trip and Jack's smashing blow with the fist brought Truax down to the floor in a heap.

"Now, cart this human rubbish out of here!" ordered Jack Benson, sternly. "Don't hit him—he isn't man enough to be worthy of a blow!"

Swooping down upon the prostrate one, Hal and the midshipmen seized Sam Truax by his arms and legs, carrying him bodily out of the engine room.

"Williamson," commanded Captain Jack, "stop the speed."

"In the race, sir. We—"

"Stop the speed," repeated Benson.

"You're the captain," admitted Williamson. Grasping the twin levers of the two motors he swung them backward.

"Disregard any signal to go ahead until we've had a chance to inspect the motors," added Captain Jack.

Then the submarine skipper darted out into the cabin.

Sam Truax lay sprawling on the floor. Midshipman Merriam, a most cheerful smile on his face, sat across the fellow, while Hal and the other two midshipmen stood by, looking on.

"Hold him please, until I can have the wretch taken care of," requested Captain Jack, making for the spiral stairway to the conning tower.

Just as the young skipper stepped out on deck he heard the "Hudson's" bow-gun break out sharply in the halting signal.

Taking a megaphone, Benson stood at the rail until the gunboat ranged up alongside.

"Have you broken down?" came the hail from the gunboat's bridge.

"I thought it best to stop speed, sir. We'll have to look over our engines before it will be safe to attempt any more speed work," Captain Jack answered. "I've caught a fellow tampering with our machinery. We hold him a prisoner, now. Can you take him off our hands, sir?"

"One of your own men?" came back the question.

"Of course, sir."

"We'll send a marine guard to take him, on your complaint, Mr. Benson."

"Thank you, sir."

The gunboat's engines slowed down. Ere long her port side gangway was lowered. Jack saw not only two marines and a corporal come down over the side, but Lieutenant Commander Mayhew appeared in person. That officer came over in the cutter.

"You've had treachery aboard, have you?" asked the lieutenant commander, as he climbed up over the side.

"Rather. A new machinist, taken aboard just before we sailed from Dunhaven. The same fellow who must have played the trick on the 'Pollard's' engines yesterday," Benson replied.

"I'll be glad to have a fellow like that in irons in the brig aboard the 'Hudson,' then," muttered Mr. Mayhew. "I couldn't understand, Mr. Benson, how you were doing so badly in the full speed ahead dash."

"The prisoner below is the answer, sir," Captain Jack replied. He then led the corporal and two marines below. The corporal produced a pair of handcuffs, which he promptly snapped over Truax's wrists.

"You'll be sorry for this, one of these days," threatened Truax, with a snarl that showed his teeth.

"Some day, then, if you please, when I have more leisure than I have now," Jack retorted, dryly. "This man is all yours, corporal."

Truax was foolish enough to try to hang back on his conductors. A slight jab through the clothing from one of the marines' bayonets caused the prisoner to stop that trick. He was taken on deck and over the side.

"Coxswain, return for me after you've taken the prisoner to the 'Hudson,'" directed Mr Mayhew. "Now, Mr. Benson, I would like to see what has been done to your engines."

"That's just what I want to know, too," responded Jack.

They found Hal and Williamson hard at work, inspecting the motors.

"The ignition power was lowered, and that may have been the most that the fellow did," said Hal. "Yet, at the same time, before putting these engines to any severe test, I believe they ought to be cooled and looked over."

Lieutenant Commander Mayhew frowned.

"These delays eat up our practice cruise time a whole lot," he grumbled.

"I'll put the engines through their paces, and chance mischief having been done to them, if you wish, sir."

"No; that won't do either, Mr. Hastings," replied the naval officer. "This craft is private property, and I have no right to give orders that may damage private property. I'll hold the fleet until you've had time to inspect your engines properly. By that time, however, we'll have to put back to the coast for the night, for our practice time will be gone."

"In the days to follow, sir," put in Benson, earnestly, "I think we can more than make up for this delay. We won't have the traitor aboard after this."

"What earthly object can the fellow have had for wanting to damage your motors?" demanded the naval officer, looking hopelessly puzzled.

"I can't even make a sane guess, sir," Jack Benson admitted.

An hour and a half later the "Hudson" and the two submarines headed back for a safe little bay on the coast. Here the three craft anchored for the night.



CHAPTER XVII

THE EVIL GENIUS OF THE WATER FRONT

It was nearly eight in the evening when the three craft were snug at anchor.

The bay was a small one, hardly worthy of the name. The only inhabited part of the shore thereabouts consisted of the fishing village known as Blair's Cove, a settlement containing some forty houses.

Hardly had all been made snug aboard the "Farnum" when Jack, standing on the platform deck after the cadets had been transferred to the "Hudson" for the night, saw a small boat heading out from shore.

"Is that one of the new submarine crafts?" hailed a voice from the bow of the boat.

"Yes, sir," Jack answered, courteously.

No more was said until the boat had come up alongside.

"I thought maybe you'd be willing to let me have a look over a craft of this sort," said the man in the bow. He appeared to be about forty years of age, dark-haired and with a full, black beard. The man was plainly though not roughly dressed; evidently he was a man of some education.

"Why, I'm mighty sorry, sir," Captain Jack Benson replied. "But I'm afraid it will be impossible to allow any strangers on board during this cruise."

"Oh, I won't steal anything from your craft,", answered the stranger, laughingly. "I won't be inquisitive, either, or go poking into forbidden corners. Who's your captain?"

"I am, sir."

"Then you'll let me come aboard, just for a look, won't you?" pleaded the stranger.

Such curiosity was natural. The man seemed like a decent fellow. But Jack shook his head.

"I'm sorry, sir, but I'm positive our owners wouldn't approve of our allowing any strangers to come on board."

"Had any trouble, so far, with strangers?" asked the man.

"I didn't say that," Jack replied, evasively. "But the construction of a submarine torpedo boat is a secret. It is a general rule with our owners that strangers shan't be allowed on board, unless they're very especially vouched for. Now, I hate to appear disobliging; yet, if you've ever been employed by anyone else, you will appreciate the need of obeying an owner's orders."

"You're under the orders of the boss of that gunboat?" asked the stranger, pointing to the "Hudson."

"On this cruise, yes, sir," Jack nodded.

"Maybe, if I saw the fellow in command of the gunboat, then he'd give me an order allowing me to come on board."

"I'm very certain the lieutenant commander wouldn't do anything of the sort," Benson responded.

The stranger gave a comical sigh.

"Then I'm afraid I don't see a submarine boat to-night—that is, any more than I can see of it now."

"That's about the way it looks to me, also," Jack answered, smiling. "Yet, believe me, I hate awfully to seem discourteous about it."

"Oh, all right," muttered the stranger, nodding to the two boatmen, who had rowed him out alongside.

"Good!" grunted Eph. "I'm glad you didn't let him on board, Captain. On this cruise our luck doesn't seem to run with strangers."

"It doesn't, for a fact," laughed Jack Benson.

"Hi, ho—ah, hum!" yawned young Somers, stretching. "It will be mine for early bunk to-night, I reckon."

At this moment a boat was observed rounding the stern of the "Hudson." It came up alongside, landing a marine sentry.

"Anybody on the 'Farnum' want to go ashore to-night?" hailed a voice from the gunboat's rail. "The shore boat will be ready in five minutes."

"I believe I would like to take just a run through the village," declared Jack, turning to his chum. "Do you feel like a land-cruise with me, Hal?"

"I think I'd better go," laughed Hastings. "You seem to get into trouble when you go alone."

"All right, then. And, Eph since you're so sleepy, you can turn in as soon as you want. The boat will be under sufficient protection," Jack added, nodding toward the marine slowly pacing the platform deck.