The Submarine Boys on Duty Part 26

After Mr. Farnum had returned to sh.o.r.e Benson put his new hand through a searching quiz. If there was anything Boatswain's Mate Henderson did not know about submarine boat work, then the young captain was not able to find out what it was.

"Bill Henderson ought to be captain, not I," whispered Jack to his chum.

"If Mr. Farnum didn't find that out for himself," replied Hal, dryly, "don't tell him."

"This man Henderson is certainly a jewel for us," murmured Captain Jack.

At the moment the three boys were standing on the platform deck, while Henderson was stowing his limited baggage away below.

"Now, Cap, take this from me," muttered Eph, with the air of a wiseacre.

"When a man seems a crackerjack at anything, and doesn't have as good a position as you think he ought to have, keep your eye on him."

"For what?" asked Captain Jack, smilingly.

"Oh, just to see what turns out to be wrong with the fellow."

"What can be, wrong with Henderson?"

"I didn't say anything was, did I?" queried Eph Somers.

"And I don't believe anything can be," responded Jack Benson, hopefully.

"Mr. Farnum has looked over the man's Navy discharge papers, and Mr. Farnum isn't an easy one to take in."

CHAPTER XVII

IN THE GRIP OF HORROR

Before five o'clock that afternoon Dunhaven lined the water front. That is to say, fully five hundred people of the little seaport town were on hand. The "Pollard" was a local enterprise. If the great United States Government expected to buy the boat, the people of the village wanted to be on hand and give a rousing send-off to a homemade craft that might yet be destined to become famous.

Cheer after cheer went up. Hats, parasols and handkerchiefs were waved.

"I don't know," growled one old salt in the sh.o.r.e throng. "If it was a human sort of craft, meant to ride the waves as a good s.h.i.+p should, I'd have more faith in her. I'm afraid that boat'll go to the bottom one o' these days, an' forgit to come up again."

The old salt was promptly voted a croaker. Hadn't the "Pollard" been given abundant tests by her crew? Had she failed to come up yet? So the cheering redoubled when Captain Jack came up on the platform deck, followed by the builder and the inventor.

"Thank you, my friends!" shouted Jacob Farnum, making a trumpet of his hands. "We all thank you! Now, Captain Benson, make as handsome a flying start as you can." Jack already stood by the wheel, where he could reach all the controls. Down below the gasoline motor throbbed, making the hull vibrate. Power had been ready for the last ten minutes.

Captain Jack moved the speed wheel around to the six-mile notch. The twin propellers aft began to churn the water lazily, causing the "Pollard" to slip away from her moorings. Ere they had gone a hundred yards Jack swung on much more speed. By the time that the submarine reached the mouth of the little harbor she was traveling at eighteen miles an hour, her bow nosing into the waves and throwing up a fine spray, some of which reached the platform, deck. Astern, her propellers were tossing the water into a milky foam. Truly, she made a gallant sight!

For half a mile Captain Jack kept out to sea. Then he turned the craft's nose northward. For another hour the "Pollard" was kept at the same speed, behaving handsomely. Then Captain Jack turned the wheel over to big Bill Henderson, going below to have his supper with builder and inventor.

"As soon as the other watch have had supper," proposed Mr. Farnum, "I think, Captain, we'll drop fifty feet below the surface and run for an hour or more. The Navy men will want an even sterner test than that. We want to make sure that everything about the craft is running at the top notch of perfection. A fortune for Pollard, and another for myself, are at stake on what we show the Navy in the next three days."

"Oh, we can easily show them anything that any submarine craft can do,"

smiled Jack Benson, confidently. "And I'm certain we can show the Navy officers an ease of handling that isn't reached by any other submarine in the world."

"It's a good thing to have a confident captain," smiled David Pollard.

"A confident captain, aboard a reliable boat, spells victory."

When the meal was over Captain Jack went back above to the wheel. There was no moon this night, but the stars shone brightly over the water.

It was a warm night, with a gentle breeze, and only the gentlest swell to the water. The "Pollard" had been slowed down to twelve miles an hour, but there was still speed enough for the motion to be exhilarating.

"Oh, it's great to be captain of probably the most powerful and dangerous sea-terror in the world!" throbbed the boy, looking up at the stars.

"How little I dreamed of this, a few months ago!"

"Going to be ready, now, for the dive and the hour's run under water, captain?" inquired Mr. Farnum, coming up on deck.

"In about ten minutes, sir," replied Jack, pointing forward over the port bow, "we'll be abreast of Point Villars light. Why not dive just abreast of that light? It will give us a starting point to reckon our run from."

"A good idea," nodded Mr. Farnum, and just then David Pollard came up from below. Both stood watching the young commander for some moments.

"Captain," remarked the inventor, "you handle the boat as easily as though you had been doing this sort of thing for years. You must have had some practice aboard rather goodsized craft?"

"Never anything much bigger than a thirty-foot gasoline boat," Jack replied. "In the old days, sir, a young sailor had to begin with a rowboat, go on to a cat-boat, and so work on up until he could handle a full-rigged s.h.i.+p. That's where the change has come with to-day's gasoline boats. A fellow who learns to run a twenty-foot gasoline launch can just as easily handle a big gasoline yacht of any size. The new style of power saves a heap of time in the learning, sir."

Captain Jack was now nearing a line abreast of the Point Villars light.

He watched keenly. At last, when just abreast, he shouted down through the manhole:

"Shut off the gasoline power. Stand ready to turn on the electric power.

Get ready to dive. Henderson, take the steering wheel in the conning tower."

Less than sixty seconds later the ventilators had been taken in, the manhole cover was made fast, and all were below, save Bill Henderson, who sat at the tower wheel, before him an electric lighted compa.s.s.

"Henderson," called Captain Jack, "steer north by northeast, one point off north."

"Aye, aye, sir," came from the seaman in the conning tower.

"Hold fast! Make ready to dive!" called the young captain.

Then, at the signal, Hal Hastings turned open the sea-valves into the diving tanks. Down shot the "Pollard," the young captain standing by the gauge to watch until they were fifty feet below.

"On even keel!" he shouted. Quickly the submarine regained her even keel, and ran along at eight miles an hour. Captain Jack Benson read the gauge once more, to make sure that they were fifty feet below the surface.

"And now, we've nothing to watch but the clock, until our hour is up,"

he laughed, dropping onto one of the seats and stretching. "Somehow, I notice none of us are as nervous as we were the first time this diving machine went down with us."

With the electric fans running it was cool and comfortable there, and the air, as pure as that above the ocean until the point of diving, would last for some time without renewing.

With no wind or, wave to buffet, and the steady electric power running the propeller shafts, the sensation was almost that of being aboard a boat at rest.

After they had run along thus, for a few minutes, Eph went up to take the wheel. As Bill Henderson came down below the young skipper noticed a bright gleam in the seaman's eyes, though he thought little of it.

Henderson went forward into the engine room, stretching himself out on the leather cus.h.i.+on of one of the seats.

"Ever run on a smoother boat than this below the surface, Henderson?"