"Are we at liberty to go up into the village, sir?" asked Jack Benson, pausing at the door.
"Fun?" demanded the boatbuilder, regard them with a dry smile.
"Yes, sir," Jack nodded. "That is, the kind of fun we find in our work. We want to get some metal, a few tools and other things, to rig up something that we think may serve well aboard the 'Pollard.'"
"Run right along then," rejoined Mr. Farnum. "Get a bill for whatever you spend at the toolshop and turn the bill in as expense account."
"Thank you. Good morning, sir."
"Say, did you ever see that beat?" demanded Eph, all aglow with enthusiasm, as the boys stepped across the yard. "My, but didn't Mr. Farnum call the trick with those fellows?"
"We've been doing a heap of useless worrying over what Don Melville let drop the other day, haven't we?" asked Hal, quietly.
"Fellows," stated Captain Jack, earnestly, "as long as we work for this pair of men I'm never going to be uneasy again over anything but displeasing them. They're bricks! They can count on us, every time!"
Up the street, a little way past the gate of the boatyard, the Melville party had halted to light cigars.
"I'm afraid, Melville," said one of the capitalist's associates, "you didn't go at the matter with quite your usual tact. You showed your hand too soon. You came out a little to hard, just a little, too early in the proceedings.
"Pooh!" retorted the capitalist. "We'll go to the hotel. Farnum will cool down soon enough, and realize what we represent to him. Inside of two hours he'll have people out to find out whether we've left town. Gentlemen, I don't know but it might be a good idea for us actually to leave Dunhaven."
"An excellent idea," replied Lawyer Demarest, dryly, "for we shall only waste our time by remaining here."
"What do you mean?" questioned the capitalist, quickly.
"Farnum won't send for us."
"He surely will, when he cools down."
"I'm positive that he won't," asserted the lawyer. "If I know anything about men Farnum will get along without us from now on."
"But he needs the money."
"He can get it, Melville, I am inclined to think," returned the man of the law.
"And we need the investment," continued George Melville. "Why, with my influential connections at Washington, and some other connections that I have, I can see a return of millions on our investment."
"You will never make the investment, as long as Jacob Farnum has the deciding word," insisted Mr. Demarest.
"I'm sure of that, too," added Mr. Faulkner.
"And all on account of those rascally boys!" uttered Don Melville, in a tone of disgust. "Isn't it funny how some folks will cling to muckers? Why, anyone would think that the fellow Benson and his chums are so necessary that the business couldn't go on without them. They're the—"
"Hush!" murmured the lawyer. "Here come the boys."
Jack and his mates were at this moment coming out of the yard. They had turned on the sidewalk, and started along ere they caught sight of the group ahead.
"There's that infernal gang!" uttered Eph, wrathfully.
"Keep your eyes away from them, and don't say anything, then," whispered Jack. "Don't say or do anything that can possibly spoil the morning by putting us in the wrong."
But Don Melville, wrathful over the morning's happenings, and keenly disappointed over the knowledge that he could not hope to command the "Pollard," was not disposed to let the submarine boys go unchallenged.
On came Jack, Hal and Eph, walking abreast, yet ready to break and pass in silence.
"Dewey, Sampson & Schley!" jeered Don Melville, in a low tone, yet loud enough to be heard by Jack's party.
Yet the boys paid no heed, but would have passed in silence, had not Don added, insultingly:
"The three little muckers!"
That was too much for Eph. He couldn't help turning, the flush mounting to his cheeks, to retort:
"Speak for yourself!"
Don took a step forward. Eph, unable to ignore the implied challenge, wheeled about.
"Don't bother with the fellow, Eph," muttered Jack, gripping his bellicose chum by the arm.
"'Fellow'?" cried Don, hotly. "Do you mean that for me?"
"Well," demanded Jack, dryly, "you're not a girl, are you?"
At that Don Melville lost his temper hopelessly. Burning at a white heat, he hissed:
"I'll show you whether I am, or not, you cur!"
That word "cur" went far toward shattering Jack Benson's good resolutions.Letting go of Eph's arm he turned to glare at his tormentor.
"You need a lesson, mucker," added Don, hotly.
"Don't soil your hands on the fellow, Don," cried his father, sharply.
"I must, sir, after he has insulted me," cried Don, in a rage. "I must kick him, anyway."
"Nonsense, Don! No brawling with people of this class," commanded his father, sternly.
The elder Melville reached out to restrain his son, but that seemed only to render the young man more furious. He rushed at Jack, aiming a kick.
"Don't you dare try that!" warned young Benson, his eyes flashing.
But Don, despite both warnings, did swing his foot. Jack dodged the impact, then darted in at the side, landing a blow on young Melville's chest that sent him staggering back.
"Strikeme, will you?" flashed Don, throwing himself on guard.
George Melville, aghast at Jack's presumption in attacking his son, now stepped back, satisfied that Don must avenge the insult.
A dozen boys, talking over baseball nearly a block away, saw the start of this encounter.
"Fight! fight!" they yelled, gleefully, and raced down the street.
The cries readied the private office in the boatyard. Suspecting, partly, what might be up, Jacob Farnum snatched his hat, running out. David Pollard followed.
"You young puppy!" almost screamed. "I'll teach you a lesson that you need."
"I'm usually particular about where I get my training," retorted JackBenson, insulted and stung past his power to endure.
Yet Captain Jack did not attempt to follow up that first blow. Throwing himself into the attitude of defense, he waited.
Don Melville did not keep him long waiting, but rushed at the shorter youth, intent on sending him to earth.
"Hit him like a gentleman, Don!" called his father.
Whatever way that might be, Don Melville struck out, his blood at the white heat of rage. With such force did he aim the blow that, when nimble Captain Jack failed to be in the way to stop it, Don pitched forward, falling to his knees.
"Hooray!" yelled some of the on looking boys, derisively.
Jack halted before his foe, smiling at him quietly.
"Know any more stunning tricks like that one?" Benson inquired.
"I'll show you!" panted Don, leaping up. As he did so, he caught sight of the smiling faces of Messrs. Farnum and Pollard, strolling up from the boatyard gateway.
As he faced the smiling submarine boy, young Melville was quick to realize that he must cool down if he did not want to become a laughing stock for the street crowd that was swiftly forming. Half a dozen workmen employed in the yard had climbed up onto the fence.
"Mind you," said Jack, coolly, "I don't want to hurt you. You started this, Melville."
The sheer coolness of this speech once more carried Don Melville out of the bounds of reason. On the "gym" floor Don had studied the art of boxing well, but he had not learned all he needed to know about coolness.
"You young hound!" he snapped.
"You said something like that before," Jack laughed. "Is that all you can do? I feel as though I were wasting my time."
"Do you?" mocked Don. "Take that, then!"
This time he leaped forward, feinting with his left hand. But Jack was not to be caught like that. Instead, he parried against the real blow delivered with Don's right fist. The force of the parry threw Don to his left. Just at that instant Benson passed behind his opponent, landing a stinging blow on the other's neck. Down flat to the ground went the Melville heir, hitting his nose roughly and starting the blood.
"Hooray!" yelled a gleeful boy in the throng. "Say, ain't he fine at jiu-jitsu, though?"
A yell of great joy went up from some of the boys, who are always delighted at seeing the larger fellow thrashed, especially when he is the one who has started the trouble.
"Don't you think you'd better wait and cool down?" inquired Jack, dryly."You're only making a show of yourself."
That taunt stung Don into rising and squaring off, while his father looked unutterably disgusted and angry over the ridiculous turn affairs had taken.
"Benson's advice is good—sound," approved Lawyer Demarest, stepping in. "Don, you're no match for your opponent, at least not in your present temper. Don't try to carry this any further."
"Do you think I'm going to let this young mucker make a fool of me?" demanded the Melville youth, huskily. "I've just got to settle with him."
"Yes, yes, Don; stop this. It's unseemly," insisted his father, red-faced through his humiliation. "Come on!"
Mr. Melville's other friends also interposed. Don, surrounded, yet not very anxious to carry the fight on any further, chafed hopelessly. Jack Benson, seeing the new turn of affairs, and realizing how ridiculous his foe must feel, turned to Hal to say:
"I guess we're not needed here any longer. Come on."
"As for you, Benson," choked the elder Melville, "we shall see what can be done about this. You ought to be arrested."
Jack's only answer was a tantalizing grin, after which he turned, his back, as he and his mates started off up the street, followed by a little cheer from some of the boys gathered there.
"What can the law do about this?" demanded the elder Melville of the lawyer, in a low tone.
"A warrant could be issued against your son for disturbing the peace," came the disgusted reply of Lawyer Demarest. "As for Benson, all he did was to protect himself when insulted and assaulted unjustly. It was a disgraceful affair, my dear sir. Now, let us get away from here before we're exposed to more ridicule."
Neither Mr. Farnum nor Mr. Pollard had said a word. Now, smiling quietly, they returned to the yard. The crowd broke up. The Melville party kept on to the hotel of Jabez Holt not far away.
Capital, backed by energy, can often accomplish wonders.
On the next day after the Melville squall in the boatyard office, Jacob Farnum, looking out of a window, and through the open gateway, saw three heavily-laden lumber trucks go by.
"That looks like a good deal for little Dunhaven," he thought to himself."I wonder what's happening?"
His horse and buggy were in the yard. The young owner presently went out and got into his vehicle, driving slowly along the street to the northward.
About a third of a mile from his yard Mr. Farnum came to the spot where the lumber was being unloaded. That was a hitherto vacant piece of land located at the edge of a small deepwater cove. Mr. Melville and Don were there, and also a gang of workmen. Carpenters were opening tool chests, as though preparing to go to work.
"Hm!" mused Jacob Farnum. Turning up a side street, he drove, by a roundabout way, back to his yard. Thereafter he took pains to keep himself informed of the Melville doings.
By night the foundations of a shipbuilder's shed had been laid by a large force of carpenters. Another gang of carpenters had gone to work building a fence as rapidly as laborers could set up the poles. By the night of the following day the fence was completed, and the shed, so far as outward appearances went, was completed.
And now, though George Melville and his son, preserved an air of great secrecy, the news leaked out that a new boatyard was added to the industries of Dunhaven, coupled with the further information that Mr. Melville was engaged in the manufacture of submarine torpedo boats.
Both Farnum and Pollard looked somewhat grave when this knowledge was first brought to them by Eph Somers, who had a great knack for picking up local news. However, the young builder was quick to cheer up.
"So we're to have a rival yard, and the 'Pollard' is to have a rival?" said Mr. Farnum. "Competition ought to stir us forward to the very best that is in us. Somers, ask Captain Benson and Hastings to come here. We'll talk this matter over."
Twenty minutes later the few devoted friends of the "Pollard" boat were gathered around Mr. Farnum's desk.
"Unless I'm in great error," said the young boatbuilder, "we're in for a lively rumpus, now. Melville is aroused over our refusal to let him in to this enterprise, and he's starting an opposition. He can command a great deal of money, and I understand that he has a good many influential friends in Washington. If he can carry on the most successful rivalry, he may do us a great deal of harm. For instance, if he can build so fine a boat that he can put ours in the shadow. In fact, while I don't mean to be a quitter or a skulker, I'll admit that Melville may possibly be able to dig a hole and drop us into it. If he produces a type of boat that goes far ahead of ours, then the Government is likely to buy his, overlook ours and leave me stranded financially. About all I'm worth is tied up in the present 'Pollard' and in the new torpedo submarine that I'm now building."
"He can't invent or build a finer submarine than the 'Pollard,'" declaredCaptain Jack, with conviction.
"Nor get as fine a crew to handle his craft," added David Pollard.
"Don't be too sure of that," warned Jack, Soberly. "I think we fellows have done fairly well with your boat, up to date. But suppose Mr. Melville should be able to get a lot of experienced submarine men, and even, perhaps, an officer, from the United States Navy. We boys could hardly beat such a combination as that."
"I'm not so sure that you're right on this point, Jack," clicked Mr. Farnum. "I'll say this much: It would make me more uneasy to lose the services of you boys than it would to hear that Melville has a Navy crew for the boat he's building."
"Of course," went on Jack, thoughtfully, after a pause, "if you, Mr. Farnum, could interest all the capital you want, on your own fair conditions, you wouldn't have to be afraid of this man Melville."
"No," admitted the boatbuilder, making a wry face. "But getting all that capital together is the problem. You see, Jack, we know just how good a boat we have, but others don't."
"Others don't?" repeated Captain Benson. "That gives me an idea."
"Another trouble," pursued the builder, "is that this submarine business is just something of a speculation. Suppose investors come forward with a lot of ready money to put into this enterprise? Our boat is good, but how do the investors know that, within the next few months, some other inventor won't come forward with a new type of submarine boat that will leave ours hopelessly behind? Then the investors would stand to lose every dollar that they put in with us. That's the thought that makes investors shy."
"Yet Mr. Melville did not seem to be afraid of the chance of losing," remarked Jack Benson.
"He's a gambler all the way through, and he has some moneyed friends of his sort," replied Mr. Farnum. "But it's hard to find such investors."
"Now, for that idea I mentioned," proposed Captain Jack. "You can see what you think of it. Why not get people to talking about our boat? Why not make them talk about it as the most wonderful thing possible in a submarine boat? You know how I managed to leave the boat under water, and to return to it. The thing has never been done before. You know how simple the trick was, and that it was blundered upon by accident. But the people of the country at large don't know. Show the trick is done. When they hear about it, broadcast, won't they think that the 'Pollard' is the only real thing in submarines? Use the 'Pollard' type of boat, and no more men need be killed when a boat won't rise. That's the way the people will talk. So, Mr. Farnum, why not write to the editor of each of the biggest daily papers, inviting him to send a representative here on a near date, to see the thing done? Don't let the editors know just what feat is to be displayed. Simply let them know, in a mysterious, general way, that the thing we will demonstrate revolutionizes the whole art of submarine warfare—as it really does."
"That will make people talk, surely," acknowledged the young boatbuilder.
"And there'll be pressure put upon Congress to buy your boat, and more like it," urged Captain Jack. "All the newspaper talk will be free advertising, and I imagine that the kind of advertising that newspapers are forced togiveis all the best paying."
"I haven't had much experience in that line, but I imagine it is the best kind," nodded Mr. Farnum.
All hands set to, to devise a list of newspapers to which invitations should be sent. The stenographer was soon intensely busy with this work.
Down at the new Melville yard affairs went on with a rush. Two tumble-down houses were rented in a little habited part of the town, and in these a gang of close-mouthed Italian laborers was quartered. Jabez Holt felt the new increase in prosperity, for Mr. Melville engaged his entire hotel. Before long there was a constant succession of arrivals at the hotel. Steel salesmen, motor drummers, salesmen in electrical supplies, and a whole host of miscellaneous representatives came to town, putting up at the hotel, where Mr. Melville had reserved a suite of rooms for temporary offices. The strangers in town spent money freely, and all the villagers enjoyed their presence.
In fact, so much business did these new happenings bring that Jacob Farnum speedily became sensible of the fact that the villagers looked upon the Melvilles with decided favor.
"The Melville crowd are at their new enterprise in real and bustling earnest," remarked Farnum, with an air of uneasiness, to his associate, the inventor.
"I imagine those people can control millions of dollars, if they need that much money," hazarded David Pollard.
"Undoubtedly," nodded the boatbuilder "And, though I am seeking for capital that will come in on terms fair to us, it's mighty uphill work."
This conversation was carried on in young Benson's hearing. Captain Jack turned to them with a laugh, to say: "Wait and see, though, if the exhibition before the newspaper correspondents won't take a lot of wind out of the Melville sails."
"It ought to," nodded the builder, "unless the Melvilles, or some of the experts they're dealing with, are shrewd enough to figure out how you left the boat and returned to it."
"Would you have figured that out, Mr. Farnum, if I hadn't told you?"
"Probably not, Jack. It's one of the things that are too simple to guess at easily."
Passers by the Melville yard were now able to hear the hammering of the riveters daily. It looked as though the new yard must be pushing a submarine boat to rapid completion.
"There hasn't been a launching, anyway, so I don't believe the Melville people will be able to do anything to beat our show to-morrow," remarked Captain Jack, on the night before the day that had been set for the show before the newspaper men.
Early the next forenoon newspaper correspondents began to arrive in numbers from half a dozen large cities. As the hotel was monopolized, by the Melville crowd, Mr. Farnum had engaged other quarters at which to entertain the men of the press. Some of the newspapers sent women writers.
None of these visitors were taken direct to the yards. Mr. Farnum and Mr. Pollard took the journalistic visitors in charge and finally conveyed them in carriages to the boatyard, arriving at about a quarter before eleven.
Here Jack, Hal and Eph, looking at their best in their natty uniforms, were on hand to be presented. Of course, the mere fact of a competent, well-trained boy crew was a novelty to the newspaper writers, who made much of the submarine boys and asked them many questions about their work.
"How soon are you going to take us out aboard the 'Pollard'?" inquired one of the women reporters.
"Just as soon as Captain Benson and his young men have had a chance to show you the remarkable feat that you have come here to see," promised Mr. Farnum.
"And what is that remarkable feat?" asked another journalist.
"The wonder of it will strike you all the more if we do not announce it in advance," rejoined David Pollard.
"Captain Benson, what haveyouto say about it?" pleaded one of the newspaper women. "Won't you give us at least a hint?"
"I'd like to, immensely," smiled Captain Jack, "but I've always had a great respect for Mr. Farnum's judgment."
"Good enough, captain," laughed the boat builder. "And now, signal for the boat that is to put you aboard."
As the boat was coming in Captain Jack turned to the newspaper writers to say:
"Ladies and gentlemen, the thing that is to be done to-day is something that has never been done on any other boat than the 'Pollard.' If it looks a bit dramatic, you will understand, of course, that that is a means toward making it all the more impressive."
"Oh, dear, but youaremaking me dreadfully inquisitive," complained one of the newspaper women, plaintively.
Embarking in the shore boat, the "Pollard's" crew were soon aboard the submarine. From the platform decks they waved their caps, then, one by one, disappeared through the tower, the manhole cover being pulled down after them.
"Are they going to take the boat out and submerge it?" asked one of the correspondents.
"Yes," nodded Mr. Farnum.
"And what else—please?" asked the particularly impatient newspaper woman.
Mr. Farnum smiled, then added:
"There they go, under electric power. Watch!"
By the time that the boat had gone a little more than a hundred feet one of the correspondents called out:
"They're sinking!"
"All a part of the performance," stated Mr. Pollard.
Before some of the visiting journalists could quite realize it, the tip of the conning tower had disappeared below the surface.
"That's all very interesting to look at," half shuddered one of the women."But what if they couldn't bring the boat up again?"
"The boat is built to go up or down, at need," Mr. Farnum assured her."Captain Benson has never had an accident yet."
So the group of some thirty newspaper people watched intently, keeping their gaze on the place where they had seen the last ripples close in over the vanishing conning tower.
The minutes passed by. The shore boat, with the hundred-pound anchor and cable in the bow, hovered just where Captain Jack had directed, but what could be going on in the submarine at the bottom of the little harbor?
"Mr. Farnum, don't you sometimes get nervous over such things?" demanded one of the women.
"Never," the boatbuilder assured her.
Yet is was not long before the yard's owner pulled out his watch to look at the dial. Eleven minutes had passed since the disappearance of the submarine. The next time Farnum glanced at his watch the time had lengthened to fifteen minutes. Then the time dragged by to half an hour.
David Pollard was fighting hard to conceal the nervous dread that had seized him.
"Farnum," he found chance to whisper, at last, "something tragic has happened to the boys, at last. What on earth can it be? Whatever it is, we're utterly powerless to help them!"
Fifteen minutes more dragged by.
"Where's your show, Mr. Farnum?"
"Something has gone wrong, eh?"
The correspondents were pressing about the worried builder and the uneasy inventor.
"There's a tragedy going on over there, isn't there?" demanded another journalist, pointing out across the water.
"I—I'm afraid there is a chance of it," nodded Mr. Farnum, dejectedly, again looking at the watch in his hand. "It's getting on toward an hour since the 'Pollard' went down."
"What are you going to do about it?"
"Is there no way to rescue the crew?"
"Don't let those boys die, without lifting a finger to save them."
"Get busy, man—in heaven's name, get busy!"
Such were the comments, questions and advice that poured in on the builder. David Pollard, his sensitive nature suffering extremely, shrank back out of the crowd.
"Gentlemen—and ladies, too—don't you understand that nothing really can be done—at least not in a rush?" cried Jacob Farnum, the cold sweat standing out on his face. "There isn't a diver in or near Dunhaven, and that unfortunate boat is down in seventy feet of water. I'm going to rush a wire to the nearest place where I know a diver to be, but I—I am certain that it will be hours before we can hope to have one here. That is all—all that can possibly be done."
"Oh, this is dreadful!" sobbed one of the women writers. "Those brave, splendid boys—such a fearful fate!"
"Must they be asphyxiated down there, below?" cried another woman.
"Don't," choked Jacob Farnum. "I must rush for the telegraph station and get off a message for a diver—also for a wrecking company to send tugs and floats here for raising the 'Pollard.' Yet it will take a wretchedly long time."
"And the boys? Rescue will come too late to save them?" asked a newspaper man, with a decided choke in his voice.
Jacob Farnum made a wild dash for his office, telephoning for a messenger boy. While waiting he wrote two telegrams in feverish haste.
Several of the newspaper people wrote hasty, excited dispatches to their papers for the evening editions. The messenger boy, when he arrived on a run, was all but loaded down with paper. Then the yard's owner and the newspaper folks dashed back to the shore.
Out on the harbor the water lay unruffled. There was not a sign of the suspected tragedy that lay beneath the waves.
"It's an hour and a half since the boat sank," called one of the correspondents.
"What were the boys supposed to do, anyway?" insisted another.
Jacob Farnum opened his mouth, as though to speak, then closed it again.
"Tell us," insisted one woman.
"Yes, tell us," insisted a man.
Just then, there came a shout over the waters. "Say, you lubbers, what did you move that boat for?"
There was an instant gasp from all who turned so swiftly to look out over the water.
Only Jack Benson's brown-haired head showed above the surface of the harbor, but his look was laughing, utterly care-free.
The boatmen who had allowed their craft to drift while waiting, now thrust out their oars, making quick time to where the submarine boy stood treading water.
In his sudden revulsion of feeling the inventor all but fainted. Jacob Farnum, his gnawing suspense over, felt as though his knees must give way under him. Then, by a mighty effort, just as the deafening cheering started, he led the race around the harbor.
"Here, you—Jack Benson!" gasped the yard's owner. "You come in here mighty quick! Give an account of yourself. What was wrong below?"
"Wrong?" hailed back Benson, standing in the bow of the shore boat as it made for shore.
"What were you doing down below, all this time?" demanded Mr. Farnum.
"Doing? Oh, Eph was taking a nap—"
"Taking a nap?"
"Hal was tinkering with the gasoline motor, and I was reading."
"Reading?" fumed Mr. Farnum. "What were you trying to do? Torment the life out of us?"
"Were any of you folks worried?" asked Jack, smiling innocently at the excited crowd.
"Worried?" ejaculated the boatbuilder. "I've telegraphed for a diver and a wrecking company's outfit."
"Better countermand the order, air," advised Jack, dryly.
"But what on earth caused all the delay? What did it mean?" persisted the boatbuilder. "Answer me, Benson."
"Why," laughed Jack, "when we started, I dropped a word or two about trying to make the exhibition dramatic, didn't I?"
"If that's what you tried to do, young man," grunted one of the correspondents, "you've certainly succeeded. Why, in five or ten minutes more the evening papers in half a dozen cities will have extras out announcing that one more big submarine boat disaster has occurred!"
"Did you really send that to your papers?" asked Jack Benson, some of his glee showing.
"Of course we did."
"And that reminds me," shouted another. "We've got to send the follow-up news, at once. I have, anyway."
That roused the newspaper people to a sense of what they were there for, though one man broke in:
"Just a second, folks! Let's find out what the show was intended for."
"Why, it's intended to show," replied Jack, "that a boat built and equipped like the 'Pollard' isn't a death-trap for the crew, if it should happen, through some accident, that the boat refuses to rise to the surface."
"That's the trick," confirmed Mr. Farnum. "But, Jack, why did you wait so long before coming up."
"So that you could all realize something of the anxiety of people over such accidents to submarines, and the great dread over the fate of the crew," laughed the boy. "I think our delay made you all realize something of that."
"Youhavesomething of the dramatic instinct, truly," murmured the newspaper woman who had sobbed. "You had us all scared nearly to the fainting point."
"Now," continued Captain Jack, "just to show you that the boat didn't get disabled in any way, I'm going down again and then come up with the boat."
"It won't take you as long as it did this last time, will it?" demanded one of the reporters.
"Wait right where you are," promised Jack Benson, "and you'll see me once more before you've really had time to realize it."
"No more dramatic business, eh, and needless tears on our part?" insisted another.
"This time," laughed Jack, "the dramatic will be confined to speed of operation."
He motioned to the men to row out. Jack calculated, finely, just where he had come up, and there the heavy anchor was dropped, the end of the cable being made fast in the boat.
Then overboard dived the submarine captain, going straight down. A tug at the line showed when he seized hold of it, down in the depths.
A little time passed, but now the newspaper folks, accustomed to all manner of sensations, were not apprehensive.
"Here she comes!" shouted David Pollard, gleefully.
More and mote of the conning tower showed above the water, the platform deck and hull coming next into view. Then, as the manhole cover was raised, Eph Somers stepped into view at the steering wheel. The "Pollard" moved over to her moorings, and Hal came up to aid in making fast. Soon afterward, Jack Benson, in complete uniform, appeared on deck.
"Now, give us just an idea of how the thing is done, Mr. Farnum," begged one of the correspondents, turning to the boatbuilder.
"Ladies and gentlemen," replied the yard's owner, gravely, though he was tempted to laugh over the mystery he was making, "I am certain that you all want to know."
"We do," came the chorused answer.
"But if I were to tell you," responded Farnum, speaking as gravely as ever, "it would be to reveal to the whole world one of the strongest points in our plan of submarine operation. You will understand that, of course, and will realize that we do not care to explain anything so valuable, when that idea is not yet patented."
"I suppose you're right about that," admitted one of the journalists, thoughtfully. "We'd like awfully to know just how the feat is accomplished, and you have equally good reasons for not telling us."
"Have you much genius for machinery?" whispered one of the women writers to a man beside her. "For, you know, we've been promised a chance to visit the boat. If you keep your eyes open, very likely you can detect how it is possible to leave the 'Pollard' when she's on the bottom—a performance that isn't possible with any other type of submarine torpedo boat."
Jacob Farnum now slipped away to countermand his orders for a diver and wrecking apparatus, the newspaper people also seizing the chance to send another wire to their home newspapers.
After that Captain Jack received one-third of the party aboard the "Pollard." He gave them a short trip on the surface. Then, pressed to do so, he submerged the boat for two minutes. After that the rest of the correspondents were taken out and below the water. Most people are not particularly eager, at first, for a trip under the water in submarine boats, but with the newspaper fraternity it is different. They are always on the lookout for any new experience, no matter how dangerous it may seem to be. It is a part of their calling.
Yet not one in all this party of thirty trained, keen-minded people managed to penetrate the secret of how Captain Jack had been able to leave and return to the "Pollard" while that craft lay on the bottom of the harbor.
When all had visited the boat, and had sunk with her, Jacob Farnum took the party in carriages to his home, where luncheon was served. The boatbuilder, by the use of all his tact, kept the party together until it was time, to drive them to the railway station and see them aboard the train.
In this way, he prevented any of his visitors from falling into the hands of the Melville people. Consequently, when the next day's papers appeared there was much in them about the wonderful work done by Captain Jack Benson in a "Pollard" submarine, but there was not even as much as a mention of the fact that any rival submarine boatyard existed in Dunhaven.
"That is one long march stolen on the Melville foes," laughed Jacob Farnum to Benson. "It has been a splendid bit of business, Jack, and you boys have helped it all through in great fashion. To-day, we have the satisfaction of knowing that people all through the country are talking about the 'Pollard.'"
"That fellow Benson is being a lot talked about to-day," declared Mr.Melville, after scanning two or three of the morning papers.
"Humph! Let him be talked about," returned Don, with a lowering scowl."I suppose he's pretty conceited to-day, but it won't be long before I'llhave it fixed so that his pride shall go down lower than ever the'Pollard' could sink."
"Will you use our submarine boat to do it?" inquired the elder Melville, with a meaning smile.
"Got time to look at something, Mr. Pollard?" asked Captain Jack, two days later.
The captain and crew of the submarine had entered the outer office. In his hands Jack carried a small wooden box. Hal and Eph looked delightfully mysterious.
"Time to look at something?" repeated the inventor, with a laugh. "I seem to have plenty of time for almost anything these days."
There being none of the office employees about at the moment, Benson led the way to one of the desks, opened the box and took out a complicated-looking little model.
"You know, Mr. Pollard," murmured Jack, while the other two boys drew close, "although we have hit upon the way for some of a submarine's crew to escape when the boat is at the bottom, or in deep water, it always needs at least one of the crew to remain behind to close the rear port of the torpedo tube and to operate the compressed air a little. So, valuable though our trick may be, it really means that, in case of serious accident, one member of the crew would have to remain behind in order to help the next to last to get away. So, in case of accident, there would always be one member of the crew who would have to be left behind to die. That's the thing we fellows have been working on, and here's the result. At least, it's the best we can do with it."
"What's the idea?" inquired the inventor, examining the small model curiously.
"Why," laughed Jack Benson, good-humoredly, "it's an automatic device, set to a time principle, for closing the after port of the torpedo tube and letting off some compressed air. By means of this automatic device the last fellow could let himself out safely. That's the theory, you see; but we're new inventors, and so there's some flaw in the device. It will take a skilled mind like yours to see where the fault lies."
Jack explained volubly, while David Pollard looked over the model that the trio of young geniuses had put together. Then Benson drew from an inner pocket, and spread out, some carefully made mechanical drawings that made his idea plainer. Jack was not a trained draughtsman, but he had a great natural talent in that direction.
"Why, you have a splendid idea here," cried the inventor, presently.
"It doesn't quite work, though," said Hal, ruefully.
"Lot's of inventions don't, unfortunately," winced David Pollard. "I know something about that, for a big percentage of my inventions have turned out to have more flaws than good points. But this is really ingenious, boys. Who has had the big share in this get-up?"
"The other fellows," replied the young captain.
"Jack's idea, mostly," broke in Eph, "although Hal Hastings and I have been allowed to butt in some."
"It's splendidly done, as far as you've gone," glowed the inventor, full of unselfish admiration. "And you've made it plain just how you expect to attach this device and make it work automatically. What are you going to do with it, now?"
"We thought, perhaps, Mr. Pollard," explained Captain Jack, "that you might think it worth while to take the device up at this point, and work over it until you find out where the hitch is in the idea. If you succeed, it will make the 'Pollard' absolutely perfect in her class."
"But it would seem mean of me to take your idea, so nearly finished, and go ahead with it," protested the inventor.
"Well, you see, sir," Jack replied, earnestly, "we don't care who brings the idea through provided it makes the 'Pollard' a world-beater. Do you care to take this in hand, Mr. Pollard, and try to perfect it? For we'll admit we're stuck fast and can't get any further with it."
"Do I care to?" repeated the inventor. "Why, boys, I'll be delighted to work over it. It'll be better than sleep to me for many a night to come. But I hate to take it out of your hands, since you originated it."
"Take it and welcome," begged Hal Hastings. "The only thing we want is to see it work."
"And the sooner the better," grunted Eph Somers.
"Then thank you, I will," cried the inventor, earnestly. "But you boys, if the device can be made to work, shall have your full share of the credit."
"Hullo, boys," greeted Jacob Farnum, coming out from the inner office, a letter in his hands. "By the way, here's something that may interest you. I've a letter from a man who writes about the new trick of leaving a submerged boat. He refers to you boys as our young experts."
"He doesn't know, does he," chuckled Jack, "that we're only three apprentices, and rather raw, at that?"
"No, you're not," retorted Mr. Farnum. "My correspondent is pretty near right in referring to you as young experts."
"If we're going to get that reputation," muttered Benson, more than half seriously, "we'll have a heap to do in 'making good.'"
"Just look here, Farnum, at what these boys have been at work on," begged the inventor, calling attention to the partly-finished model.
In an instant the boatbuilder became absorbed in the idea as shown by model and drawings.
"Can this be made perfect, Dave?" he asked, eagerly, turning to the inventor.
"I think it can," answered Mr. Pollard. "The boys have been good enough to ask me to try."
"Then I hope you'll start, this minute," exclaimed the yard's owner. "It means more to us, Dave—more to us, boys—than any of you suppose at this moment! Let me tell you something. This letter holds the key to the secret. Trying to interest people in our work, I've been writing right and left trying to raise more capital on terms that would be fair to us. Now, here's a letter from Broughton Emerson, a man worth millions. He admits that my letter has interested him. He'll come here, soon, and he states that, if we can show him a good enough chance to make money he will put in the needed capital, taking satisfactory security, and yet leave the business under its present control. In other words, he's likely to do just what we wanted George Melville to do. Isn't that good enough news for one morning?"
"Yes, provided we can make as good a showing as he expects," replied the inventor, cautiously.
"Oh, if we could only get a chance to make a trial trip for a United States Naval board!" sighed Jack Benson, wistfully. "The Navy Department has money now at its disposal for the purchase of submarines. If we could get the Government to buy the 'Pollard,' that would show investors what's what in money-making." Benson's face was all aglow with mingled enthusiasm and wistfulness. He, and his mates, took as keen an interest in the future of the "Pollard" as though they themselves owned that doughty little craft.
"A trial trip for the Navy Department?" smiled Mr. Farnum, gravely."Well, I don't mind telling you that we may have that, too, before long."
"Is any date set?" breathed Captain Jack, quickly.
"Not yet, nor is the matter even fully decided. But the newspapers have produced a big effect on the Navy Department. The makers of other types of submarine boats are green with jealousy of us, just now. Your escaping trick, Jack, has made so much public clamor that Farnum stock is going up all over the country. We'll have some big chances, mighty soon, I'm thinking. If we get the chances, I'm certain enough that you boys will help push us on to victory!"
Happy dreams were these that builder, inventor and crew dreamed! The fever of conquest was in their veins.
Shutting himself up in a room at Farnum's home, depriving himself of much of his needed sleep, often refusing food, David Pollard attacked the problem of perfecting the device that Captain Jack and his mates had originally planned.
Two days later Broughton Emerson arrived. He was a pleasant, portly man of more than fifty years. His manners were quiet and easy. He was affable with everyone, but he had a keen way of looking into things. No one could guess quite what he thought of the chances of success in the enterprise of building submarine boats. Before the day was over George Melville, who was slightly acquainted with Mr. Emerson, learned that he was in town. That evening Mr. Melville succeeded in meeting Mr. Emerson and getting him over to his hotel.
"If you want to save a lot of money, Mr. Emerson," hinted George Melville, "you want to be very careful to keep it out of the Farnum investment."
"What's wrong with the Farnum business?" questioned the other capitalist.
"About everything, I believe," replied Mr. Melville. "And, even if the 'Pollard' were a capable a boat as its backers claim, it would still be beaten by the type of boat that I am now working on."
"Are you looking for capital for your submarine business?" askedBroughton Emerson, a shrewd little twinkle in his eyes.
"No; I have all we want. Not a dollar is needed, but I don't like the idea of your losing a lot of money with that other crowd. They haven't any real show to do anything with their boat."
"They are a great lot of enthusiasts over at the Farnum yard," said Mr. Emerson, musingly. "I like people as enthusiastic as they are. Why, just think of those boys; what a bright lot they are!"
"Humph! In the end Farnum will wish he never seen those boys," sneeredMr. Melville.
"Why?"
"Well, the boys are wholly ready to sell out all they know about theFarnum boat."
"Are you sure of that, Melville?" demanded Mr. Emerson, opening his eyes more widely.
"Wholly positive. Benson has already offered to sell us all he knows about the 'Pollard.' He'll steal plans, shift to our employ, or serve us in any way that he can by betraying his present employers."
"You astound me," cried the other capitalist. "And you are really quite sure of this?"
"As sure as I can be made by Benson's own offer."
In declaring this George Melville believed he was telling the truth. His son, Don, hoping to work out a scheme whereby Jack could be hopelessly disgraced, had gone as far as to tell his father that Jack was willing to overlook the past fight, and to "sell out" all he knew about the design and inner workings of the "Pollard."
"The Farnum business looks very inviting, despite what Melville says against it," thought Broughton Emerson, later that night. "Yet, if I put any money into the venture, on any terms, I must insist on the one condition that the boys be banished from Farnum's employ."
Of this far-reaching mischief, following Don's deliberate lie to his father, Captain Jack Benson and his mates had not even a suspicion.
Two days later the three submarine boys were delighted at knowing that Broughton Emerson, despite the advice he had received from Mr. Melville, was thinking most seriously of advancing a few hundred thousand dollars to help boom the "Pollard" type of submarine boat.
"That will put a crimp in the Melvilles, when they hear, won't it?" laughed Jack, in talking it over with Hal Hastings and Eph Somers.
Not one of the boys would have slept that night, had they known of the plans forming to disgrace Jack Benson even in the eyes of Messrs. Farnum and Pollard.
"Now, we shall soon know!" cried David Pollard, hoarsely.
He was trembling with the fever of the intense inventor.
Out in the little harbor the "Pollard" lay on the bottom. In the cabin, besides the three submarine boys, were only Jacob Farnum and David Pollard.
The eyes of all five were fixed on a small but ingenious bit of mechanism that had been carefully adjusted near the rear port of the boat's torpedo tube. This was the automatic device, first planned by Jack Benson, with the aid of his mates, and carried forward to working order by Mr. Pollard. By the aid of this automatic mechanism it was believed that the last man aboard a torpedo boat could let himself into the tube, relying upon the automatic device first to close the rear port, then opening the forward port and at the same time letting just the right amount of compressed air into the tube. By this means the last man aboard a submarine below the surface could provide for his own escape, without the aid of a comrade.
Eph Somers had been chosen to make the effort. He now stood, in his bathing suit, awaiting the word.
"Go ahead, Eph," ordered Mr. Farnum. "Be very careful to set the device just right. Not one of us is going to touch it."
Eph carefully set the time hand on the dial, next crawled into the torpedo tube, the rear port of which stood open. Sixty seconds later the automatic device closed the rear port with a sharp click.
David Pollard counted up to fifteen.
"He must have had time to get clear of the boat," quivered the inventor."Now, captain, take us to the surface."
In a twinkling, almost, the "Pollard" was riding the waves.
"There's Eph, dancing up and down on the beach," reported Captain Jack, from the conning tower.
"It worked like a charm," chuckled Eph Somers, gleefully, as soon as the others had joined him on shore. "That little charge of compressed air shot me out of the tube, and up I bounded to the surface, like a piece of cork."
"Now, we really lead the whole world in submarine boating," cried Mr. Farnum, hoarsely. "I don't care what any other inventor may have discovered, I'm satisfied that no one else can a boat as safe for the crew as the good little old 'Pollard' is!"
So happy did all of the five feel, in fact, that they shook hands gleefully, all around. Then, while Eph rowed out to the craft to dry himself and get into uniform, Jacob Farnum ran to the machine shops, there sounding several sharp, triumphant blasts on the steam whistle.
The whole affair—Eph's escape to the surface, the joy of the submarine, party and the blowing of the whistle, were all noted by a spy whom Don Melville had set to the task of watching the Farnum crowd.
Don was equally well aware that David Pollard had been working day and night in his room at Mr. Farnum's house.
"They've discovered something that pleases them mightily," thought Don, sick with rage. "What can it be? I'm going to know, if money has still any power to buy other men's services."
"Jack Benson may be very happy now," muttered Don, vindictively, "but his joy shall soon be turned to ashes—or worse."
Nor was Don Melville speaking by mere guesswork. His ignoble nature had evolved the whole plan by which Jack was to be ruined. Don even stooped to use his father as an innocent tool in a series of rascally deceptions.
"I got word that you wanted to see me at once," said Broughton Emerson, dropping in upon Mr. Melville that afternoon at the hotel.
"I certainly do," returned Mr. Melville, leading the way to an inner room. "Emerson, you remember my telling you that Farnum's crew are wholly willing to sell out their people if the price is big enough?"
"Yes, certainly."
"Would you like to see that proved?"
"By all means, if it can be," replied Mr. Emerson, a look of keen anxiety in his eyes, for he had finally determined to use his own judgment and invest heavily in the Farnum submarine enterprise.
"Will you consent to doing a little watching with me?" asked Mr.Melville.
"What's in the wind?"
"To-night, at eleven o'clock, on a lonely bit of road well out of town," replied George Melville, "young Captain John Benson has agreed to meet my son, Don."
"For what purpose?"
"Pollard has recently perfected a submarine boat device of the greatest practical value. Young Benson has promised Don to steal the drawings and descriptions pertaining to that device, and to turn them over to Don, for a price, of course!"
"It's horrible—unspeakable!" gasped Mr. Emerson, indignantly.
"Of course. But I want you to understand the kind of crowd that surrounds Farnum. It will be a guide to you in investing with those people. If you go with me, to the appointed place, ahead of time, and we hide close enough to witness the whole transaction, then you'll believe all that I've been telling you, won't you?"
"Of course," nodded Mr. Emerson, speaking thickly. His whole soul revolted at the treachery of such a transaction, which made him add:
"But won't you and your son, Melville, be in as bad a light through profiting by such infernal treachery?"
"We would, if wedidprofit," replied George Melville, flushing. "However, as soon as Don has dismissed the young blackguard, Benson, my son will touch a lighted match to the papers and burn them all, with yourself looking on. What do you say, Emerson?"
"It's a mean kind of business to take any part in," protested Broughton Emerson, hoarsely. "But—yes, I'll go, for if such things can be done it is my duty to myself to know."
Plans were thereupon made for the meeting in the evening. Broughton Emerson, honorable and broad-minded went away from that meeting heavy of heart. He hated the whole business, and yet he admitted to himself that he must know the truth ere he invested a fortune in other folks' business game. Yet, weighed down by the sickening feeling that, at best, he was about to play the spy, Mr. Emerson presently called up Jacob Farnum on the telephone.
"Farnum," he said, "I understand that something is to happen, to-night, that you and I ought to know."
"What is it?" asked the boatbuilder, alive with curiosity.
"I'll give you a chance to find out, to-night, but you must pledge me your word that you won't breathe a word of this, until afterwards, to anyone, not even to Pollard. Just come along and learn what you learn, then act as you please. Will you agree to that?"
"Yes," promised Mr. Farnum.
"Good enough. Then be at—" Broughton Emerson followed with directions for late the coming evening. He did not explain who was to be spied upon, or anything of the nature of the business, though he did add:
"Don't be surprised, Farnum, no matter whom you see me with. It's all a part of the night's walk. Just follow us both, without letting your presence be known at any stage. I know this all sounds mysterious, but believe me, it's going to be vastly worth your while."
The remainder of the afternoon the boatbuilder's heart was, somehow, heavy with undefined dread as to what he was to learn that night.
In the middle of the afternoon, Don Melville, with the aid of one of his father's Italian workmen, laid the last stone in the edifice of trickery that he was building for the crushing of Jack Benson.
"Jack was coming down the street from the village, when his steps were arrested by the sound of a sharp:
"Hist!"
Turning, he saw an Italian workman, beckoning mysteriously. Jack went curiously up to him.
"I have message for you—you alone," whispered the Italian, speaking fairly good English. "You are in danger of great meanness. One of your enemies plots it."
"You're one of the Melville workmen, aren't you?" asked Captain Jack, looking curiously at the fellow.
"Yes, and you have bad, wicked enemies over at our place."
"I guess that may be true enough," smiled Jack, grimly.
"Some of us are bad over there, and some honest," went on the Italian. "Some of us hate much to see dirty work done, and I have friend who works also for Melville. My friend knows all about what Don would do against you. It is wicked—very. Meet my friend, to-night, at nine o'clock, and he will tell you all—everything. I cannot tell you now. But you will meet my friend?"
"Yes, I guess I will," nodded Jack Benson.
"But you must go alone; not tell your odder friends. Until you have seen my friend you must keep all this gr-reat secret."
After some further talk Jack Benson agreed to all this. The Italian seemed wholly honest and earnest. Moreover, he appeared as though greatly troubled and anxious to save the submarine boy from some unusually mean trick.
So Jack Benson walked on, thinking deeply and wondering much. He had no suspicion of any trap against him in the person of this seemingly very honest Italian, and so Don Melville had succeeded in laying the last wire of his despicable plan.
At half-past eight that fateful night Captain Jack found a pretext for leaving his companions. Swinging out onto the road, and down past the new Melville yard, he went on briskly to the point, well out of town, that had been named for the meeting.
"I wonder if I'm foolish?" he thought, suddenly. "Is there any trick in all this? But, pshaw! The Melvilles surely aren't that kind of people, and no one else has anything against me. It's all likely enough that Don is putting up some mean game against me down at the yard, or that he's saying something mighty mean against me. Whatever it is, these Italians are honest enough to feel disgusted, and they want to warn me. Yet they don't want to have any Melville eavesdropper seeing them with me. That's all natural enough, for these Italians have their jobs to look out for, even if theydohate the rascals who pay 'em wages."
So Captain Jack kept on his way, feeling that any suspicions of theItalians were unfounded and therefore unnecessary.
David Pollard, after wandering through the grounds around the Farnum home, that evening, and missing his friend, the owner, at last decided to go to his own room and read.
Always soft-footed, Mr. Pollard made no noise until he turned the knob of the door to his room. There was a sudden, scurrying sound inside. Though he was a man of very nervous temperament the inventor was no coward. He darted in, in time to see a figure making through the dark for an open window.
"Who's there Here! Stop!" thundered the inventor, rushing forward.
But the intruder did not obey.
Hidden behind a book in a bookcase was the inventor's revolver. Mr. Pollard hauled the book out, dropping it, and, in a trice, had the weapon in his hand, racing again toward the window.
The intruder had gained the ground by the time that Mr. Pollard reached the window.
"Stop, you thief! Hold up, or I'll shoot!" warned the inventor.
However, the skulker took to his heels. Pollard fired once, the flame spitting from the muzzle of his revolver. But the figure still continued in flight, and the inventor realized that there was no further use in firing.
"That was odd," thought Pollard. "The fellow had on a uniform just such as our boys wear. If it weren't so absurd, I might be tempted to believe, despite the darkness, that it was Jack Benson. Buthewould have no need to break in here."
Then Mrs. Farnum appeared, with the servants, for the shot had alarmed the household.
"Have you found that anything is missing from here?" inquired Mrs.Farnum, while Mr. pollard searched and explained at the same time.
The inventor now halted before his desk, rummaging.
"Yes," he answered, dryly, though with a slight quaver in his voice. "The thief found and departed with the drawings of a most important new device, originated by Benson and his friends and finished by myself. I'd rather lose a large sum of money than those drawings."
At about this time Jacob Farnum was prowling carefully about the spot that Mr. Emerson had named. He waited there, in hiding, for a long time, ere Messrs. Melville and Emerson came along. He let them pass, then followed slyly, in accordance with Broughton Emerson's directions of that afternoon.
"Now, what on earth does this all mean?" wondered Jacob Farnum, unable, despite his curiosity, to regard this expedition without a feeling of considerable disgust with himself. "Confound it, it's unmanly, this spying on someone else! It makes me feel like a rubber-soled detective, a thug or a labor picket trying to 'warn' a workman with a lead-stuffed club! Yet Emerson is a gentleman, or I've been fooled. It must be all right, I suppose."
The night was dark, and the moon not yet quite due to rise. When it did come up above the horizon it was certain to be more or less obscured by the clouds hanging there.
While Messrs. Melville and Emerson stepped off along the road, Jacob Farnum was forced to keep behind bushes and other natural objects of cover, which increased the boatbuilder's uneasy feeling that he was, doing something well nigh dishonorable.
At last, however, the two capitalists stepped off the road, concealing themselves in a clump of bushes as though by previous understanding.
"It looks like a prearranged meeting of some sort," reflected the boatbuilder, after having crept close enough to be able to see and to overhear.
Five minutes went by. Then Don Melville, narrowly escaping running intoMr. Farnum, appeared suddenly before his father and Mr. Emerson.
"It's almost the time, now," laughed Don, speaking in a low voice, as he held his watch close to his eyes. "I'll slip right down into the road, in plain sight, where you can see what happens."
Back of all the rest, in the bushes, Jacob Farnum muttered, disgustedly, to himself:
"I like it little enough to find George Melville this. I like it still less, now that I find Don having a finger in the pie of mystery."
Smoke wafted back from a cigarette that Don was smoking. A few minutes thus passed, when there came the sound of a low whistle. Tossing away the stub of his cigarette, Don answered with another whistle.
Broughton Emerson straightened up instantly, being well enough hidden for that, and so did Jacob Farnum, whose presence, of course, was unsuspected by either of the Melvilles.
Then out from the cover of the woods stepped a boy of sixteen, in a uniform like that worn by the submarine boys.
"Have you got the plans?" asked Don, in a low voice that was yet distinct to all the listeners.
"Yes," came in a hoarse whisper, from the one in uniform.