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 top-notch 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.