l. 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-cushioned 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,
thrus