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 side 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 applepie 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."