n to the last jot, Mr. Farnum. They saw the beauty and the boldness
of the plan."

Oh, well, go ahead, then, responded Mr. Farnum, rising and standing by
the cabin table. "Of course, the picturesque and romantic possibilities
of the scheme are plain enough to me. We'll have the people at Spruce
Beach agape with curiosity, then wild with enthusiasm. And, really, to
be sure, we have to arouse the enthusiasm of the American people over
this whole game. That's the surest way of forcing Congress to spend
more money on our boats."

"Where are you going, Jake?" called the inventor, as his partner started
aft.

"To the stateroom, to get a little nap," replied the shipbuilder. "We're
not by any means due at Spruce Beach yet."

"Jake Farnum is surely not a coward," chuckled Mr. Pollard, as the
stateroom door closed. "Nor is he over anxious about any detail in our
little game, or he couldn't go to sleep at this important time. I know
I couldn't get a wink of sleep if I turned in now. I've simply got to
sit up, wide awake, until I see the finish of your bold stroke, Jack
Benson."

Captain Jack laughed easily, then glanced at his watch to note the lapse
of time since he had made his last calculation of their whereabouts. It
is one thing to be in the open air, navigating a vessel, but it is quite
another affair to be fifty-odd feet below the surface, calculating all
by the distance covered and the course steered.

"Any deviation in the course, Eph?" Captain Jack called up into the
conning tower.

"Not by as much as a hair's breadth," retorted young Somers, almost
gruffly, for with him, to depart from a given course, was well nigh
equal to a capital crime.

Jack touched a button in the side of the table. Obeying the summons,
quiet Hal Hastings thrust his head out into the cabin.

"Just the same speed, Hal?" the young captain asked.

"Hasn't changed a single revolution per minute," Hastings answered,
briefly.

With his watch on the table before him, and employing the scale rule and
dividers, the young submarine skipper placed a new dot on the chart.

"Something ought to be happening in three quarters of an hour," Benson
remarked, with a chuckle, to Mr. Pollard.

Less than half an hour later the young submarine skipper climbed up into
the conning tower beside Eph.

"Same old straight course, eh, lad?" asked Jack quietly.

"You know it," retorted Eph.

"Then we're where we ought to be," responded Jack Bens