The Submarine Boys and the Middies Part 15

"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 s.h.i.+pshape, 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-cus.h.i.+oned 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-c.o.c.k 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, s.n.a.t.c.hing 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 sh.o.r.e 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 ash.o.r.e."

"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 s.p.a.ce.

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 embarra.s.sment, 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 fas.h.i.+on, 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: