"REMEMBER WHAT HAPPENED TO THE 'MAINE'!"
"We'll have no more trouble, I imagine," nodded Jacob Farnum, with a
satisfied air, when Jack, at a table in the corner of the dining room,
had told, in low tones, all that had happened.
"The spies are all on the defensive, now, beyond a doubt," added David
Pollard. "They'll be too busy keeping their wrists out of handcuffs to
devote any of their time to trying to get at the secrets of the 'Benson.'"
"I hope you're both right," said Captain Jack, gravely.
"Why, what leads you to think that we may not be?" asked Farnum,
curiously.
"Nothing in the way of facts," Jack admitted. "Yet there may be others
of this infernal spy gang who have not yet shown their hands, of whose
existence the Secret Service knows nothing."
"Well, what can they do, if you don't allow any strangers on board the
boat?" asked Mr. Farnum, point blank.
"Nothing much," muttered Benson, "unless--"
"Well, unless what?"
"See here," asked the submarine boy, "what is usually done to such spies
by the United States Government?"
"Why, the law provides that, in war time, such spies can be shot in
mighty quick order," replied Mr. Farnum. "In peace times the law doesn't
allow anything but sending spies to prison."
"But what does the Government usually do?" pursued Captain Jack. "It
seems to me I've read of suspected spies being caught around American
fortifications, trying to make notes, or take photographs."
"Yes," nodded the shipbuilder.
"And I think I've read, also, that such spies are generally warned and
then let go."
"That's the usual procedure, I believe," admitted Farnum.
"Then, after the spies who have been bothering us have all been rounded
up and scolded, they'll be given railroad tickets and allowed go on
their way?" asked Jack.
"Frankly, I'm afraid that's just what will be in the present case,"
admitted Jacob Farnum.
"Then," grumbled Captain Jack, making a rather wry face, "it would seem
that being a foreign spy, in this country, provides one with a calling
that is a good deal safer than being just a lightning rod peddler or a
bill collector."
"Yes; it's really so," admitted the shipbuilder, thoughtfully.
"If that is the case," muttered Captain Jack, "the spies here at Spruce
Beach will probably keep a bit quiet until they see how things are going
to turn out. As soon as their minds are made easy by our generous
government, then they'll plot their next moves. If they can't accomplish
anything more, they may content themselves with a general revenge of
some sort on the whole lot of us."
"You're not afraid of their vengeance, are you?" asked Mr. Farnum,
looking up, and into the eyes of his young captain.
"I'm not afraid, of anything, sir," retorted Jack. "The master of a
submarine boat has no right to be afraid of things. Even if these
scoundrels should get me, in the end, all I can to is to smile, and
say: 'So be it.'"
Then, in the next breath, Benson added, earnestly:
"It doesn't matter so much if these rascals get me, but I don't want them
to work any mischief to the submarine."
"Bravo!" nodded David Pollard, looking on with a smile.
It is a fact that life in a constant atmosphere of danger renders the
average man all but indifferent to fear. Those who meet perils daily
grow to consider danger as all a part of the day's work. Perils which,
a year before, would have kept Jack Benson awake with dread for a week
now appeared to him as not worth thinking about until they happened.
Jack remained ashore until half-past nine. He hoped to hear some word
of what the Secret Service men might have learned, or of what these
representatives of Uncle Sam were doing. But no word came, so the
submarine boy went down to the beach. There was but one harbor boat
in sight.
"Ah done thought yo'd be gwine back to do little ship, sah, so Ah
done waited fo' you'," explained the negro in the boat. "Any mo'
ob yo' pahty to go abo'd to-night, sah?"
"No," Jack answered. "I'll be the last one to put off to-night."
Nor did he forget to reward the darkey's enterprise by handing him
rather more than the usual boat hire.
As he stepped aboard Jack found Hal pacing the platform deck.
"Keeping deck watch, old fellow? I'm glad see that," Captain Jack
said, commendingly.
"Yes; I'm on until midnight. Then Williamson stands watch until
three-thirty in the morning. After that Eph comes up and takes the
trick until it's time to call us all."
"When do I come on watch?" asked Jack.
"I never heard the captain of a craft had to stand watch in port,"
laughed Hal Hastings "Besides, old fellow, we couldn't be sure you'd
be aboard to-night. So the watches are all arranged. Anyway, you'd
better turn in and get a full night's sleep, for you've more on your
mind than the rest of us."
"Then tell Williamson, and have him pass the word on to Eph, that watch
ought to be very strictly kept," answered the young captain.
A few minutes Benson remained on deck, chatting with his chum. When he
at last went below the submarine captain lost little time getting into
his berth.
When Machinist Williamson came on deck at midnight a light wind was
blowing, but the air was not really chilly. In his heavy reefer the
machinist felt wholly comfortable after he had lighted his pipe and
started his slow walk back and forth along the deck.
There did not appear to be overmuch sense in keeping this deck watch.
Only a short distance away lay the United States gunboat "Waverly,"
with her alert marine guard. Though there was no moon, the starlight
was bright enough to enable a marine on the gunboat to see anything that
might skim over the water toward the "Benson."
Yet Williamson was on watch, under instructions, and he was a faithful
fellow who meant to do his full duty.
"Seems kinder tough, of course, to be so long out of one's bunk in the
middle of the night," the machinist admitted to himself.
Yet, had his vision been keen enough to know what was happening on shore,
almost directly opposite the "Benson," Williamson would have been
tenfold more alert.
Over there on the shore, in a clump of flowering, semi-tropical bushes,
crouched two men. On the ground with them lay a metal cylinder some two
feet long and seven inches in diameter. There was also a coil of wire
and a boxed magneto battery.
One of the pair held to his eyes a pair of night marine glasses.
Incessantly this watcher kept his gaze focused on Williamson.
About two o'clock in the morning Williamson found it necessary to go
below for a few moments. After reaching the conning tower he paused,
for a few moments, to look keenly all about him.
Yet, look as he would through the night, the machinist's vision could
not see that the bush hidden pair on shore, guessing his intention
from his stop by the conning tower, had silently taken to the water.
With them they towed the metal cylinder, which floated. To the cylinder
was attached one end of the light wire.
Some distance out from the shore the pair halted, treading water, only
their eyes above the surface. But Williamson could not make out such
small objects at the distance. Then he went below.
"Now, for it," breathed one of the swimming pair, tensely.
Both swimmers struck out strongly, yet silently, making fast progress
through the water by means of some of the best strokes known to swimmers.
When they reached the port side of the submarine Williamson was still
below. Nor had the attention of the marine guard on the "Waverly"
been attracted.
In just another swift instant the swimmers made a dive that carried them
and their cylinder below the surface.
Straight up against the bottom of the hull the pair went.
When they returned to the surface the metal cylinder was in place below.
Glancing backward only once, to make sure that Williamson was not yet
on deck, and that the gunboat's marine guard had not detected their
stealthy work, the swimming pair struck out lustily for shore.
Back into the same clump of bushes they made their way. In the first
few moments neither of the recent swimmers appeared to dare a glance
into the face of his comrade. In silence they fitted the shore end of
the wire to the battery.
Then one of the pair seized the handle to pomp the fatal electric spark
along the wire to the hidden mine under the "Benson's" hull.
"Remember what happened to the 'Maine'!" this wretch chuckled hideously.