The Submarine Boys on Duty Part 21

"N-no; I'm very certain I don't."

"Let's see. Did you ever hear of a man named Arthur Miller, of Sebogue?"

The elder man started, paling a trifle. The younger man stopped his walk, his face settling into a black scowl.

"No-o; I don't know Arthur Miller," replied the older man; with an effort.

"Queer," mused Mr. Farnum. "It just came to me that you were Mr.

Miller. However, of course you know best about that."

"Thank you," nodded the older man, with an attempt at a smile. "I started to tell you that my son started out late this afternoon, in the sloop that lies overturned yonder, intending to put me aboard the yacht of friends who are pa.s.sing down the coast. I have most pressing business with those friends. The business is to be finished on the coming trip. It seems that our friends are late; still, I know they must be on their way down the coast."

"As they haven't shown up, at least, not close enough," proposed Jacob Farnum, "we'll put you ash.o.r.e at Dunhaven, and doubtless you can catch up with your friends in some way."

"Dunhaven? Then you must be Mr. Farnum," cried the older man, eagerly.

"This must be the torpedo boat you were building. And these young men belong to the Navy? Mids.h.i.+pmen, no doubt?"

"There are no Navy men on board," replied the builder. "These young men are my employes. But we are losing time drifting about on the high seas. We will put back to Dunhaven, and you can tell us your story, if you choose, on the way."

"But my father does not care to go ash.o.r.e," interposed the son. "It is vitally important to him that he find the schooner and join his friends aboard. In fact, I may add that a very considerable sum in the way of a profitable business deal depends upon his going aboard the schooner."

"But as that craft isn't here, how can we put your father aboard?"

Mr. Farnum asked.

"We are right in the path that is to be taken by our friends' yacht,"

replied the son. "Since this is not a naval vessel, and you are not under Government orders, I take it you can as well wait here for two or three hours, if need be. My father will pay suitably for your time, and the service, if you will consent to wait until the yacht appears."

"I do not need any pay for extending the ordinary courtesies of the sea to those who have suffered wreck," replied Mr. Farnum, a bit stiffly.

"Whether you take pay or not, sir, will you wait and put my father aboard the yacht?" demanded the son eagerly. "A vast interest, believe me, sir, is at stake."

"Oh, there is a very great stake in this," cried the older man, tremulously. "I appeal to you, Mr. Farnum, since that is your name, to help me out in this. And, if you will accept handsome compensation, I shall be very glad to offer it."

David Pollard, who had heard some of this talk through the open manhole as he lounged by the wheel, now called down to report: "There's some kind of a craft on the northern horizon throwing up searchlight signals."

"That's our friends' yacht--it must be!" proclaimed the young man, darting forward and resting one hand on the rail of the spiral stairway.

"Now, you see, if you will be good to us, we shall not very long trespa.s.s on your patience."

"A schooner--a sailing craft--equipped with a searchlight?" asked Jack, wonderingly.

The son flashed upon the submarine boy a look in which there was something of a scowl, but he explained quickly:

"The boat has auxiliary power, and a complete electric light plant. Mr.

Farnum, you'll steam toward that searchlight, won't you? I tell you, I am positive it is the boat of our friends."

"Well, I'll put you where you want to be, of course," agreed the boatbuilder, though he spoke with some reluctance, for he realized that some great mystery underlay this whole affair.

"Come up, Benson, and take the wheel," called Mr. Pollard. So Jack went up and out on the deck, Eph following him, while Hal went to the engine room to watch more of Grant Andrews' work there. Jack threw on the speed wheel, then steered north, while Eph threw the searchlight skyward in the path of the approaching vessel.

Within fifteen minutes the two craft were in sight of each other.

Five minutes later they were within hailing distance. The other craft was a schooner of some eighty or ninety tons, and was using an auxiliary gasoline engine.

It was Jack who sounded a signal on the auto whistle for the other craft to lay to. Then Benson steered in closer, the two who had been rescued standing not far from him on the platform deck. The older man still clutched his satchel.

"Submarine, ahoy!" came a hail from the schooner's deck. "Is that you, Mr. Miller?"

"Ye-es," hesitatingly admitted the older man, at which Jacob Farnum smiled grimly, though he said nothing. "Put off a boat and send it alongside, will you?"

In a trice a boat was lowered from the schooner. Manned by two sailors and steered by a deck officer, the boat came alongside the sloping hull of the torpedo boat.

"You weren't expected in such a craft as this, Mr. Miller," called the deck officer in the stern of the small boat, touching his cap.

"Never mind any conversation, my man," broke in young Miller, testily.

"Lay right alongside, and help get my father into your boat."

Hal and Eph helped in piloting Mr. Miller over the side and getting him into the boat alongside. Immediately afterwards the younger man jumped into the small boat.

"Oh, you're going with your father, are you?" hailed Mr. Farnum.

"Yes," replied the son, coolly, though with another scowl. "A thousand thanks for your kindness to us. Good-bye!"

The small boat put off, making rapidly for the schooner.

"Well, full speed ahead for Dunhaven," muttered Jacob Farnum. "But that's the queerest crowd I ever ran into. It's uncanny, all the way through. Somehow, I can't shake off the impression that I've been engaged in some stealthy or nasty work."

The run back to port was without incident, the submarine behaving perfectly on the surface. Indeed, all aboard were highly delighted with the new boat. Jack was still at the wheel as they glided into the little harbor. Anchor was dropped and power shut off for the night.

"You three boys may as well stay aboard for the night," suggested Mr.

Farnum, as the night watchman of the yard appeared, coming out in a row-boat. "In fact, you may as well live aboard, and use the pantry and galley for all your meals."

"Shall we keep watch through the night, sir?" asked Jack.

"No need. Let the yard watchman do that. It isn't far from daylight.

Get yourselves some coffee in the galley, have a good rub-down, spread your clothing to dry, and turn in in the state-rooms."

Grant Andrews went ash.o.r.e with the builder and the inventor. The first thing the submarine boys did was to start coffee in the galley.

Next they rubbed down, got into dry underclothing, then sat down over their coffee.

For some minutes they discussed the mystery of the night, making all manner of guesses. At last, however, they lay down in the berths of the state-rooms, and were soon sound asleep.

Nor did any of them wake until Jack opened his eyes in the forenoon, when he heard someone coming down the spiral stairway.

"You boys awake?" bellowed the wrathful voice of Mr. Farnum. Instantly, almost, two state-room doors were yanked open, while the builder went on:

"Oh, that was a fine trick that was played on us last night. As soon as I opened my eyes this morning I telephoned to Sebogue. I got the whole story. Arthur Miller is a defaulter to the tune of a very large fortune. He must have had the cash in that satchel. And he made us tools of his! Made us aid him in his flight, and put him beyond the reach of the law! Oh, if I should ever get my hands on that rascal again!"

It was plain that the boatbuilder was angry all the way through. He stamped in a temper. As quickly as the boys could get on their clothing they came out to hear the rest of the story.