redly, though with considerable emphasis on the title. "So far
I have never had any need to regret giving Captain Benson rather a free
hand."

"Yet you--"

Mr. Melville stopped right there, for Jacob Farnum, his eyes turned in a
steady look out over the water, suddenly emitted an incredulous whoop.
Then, without explanation, the boatbuilder broke into a dead run that
carried him along the shore to the northern edge of the little harbor.

Nor was Mr. Farnum's astonishment to be wondered at, for he had just
caught sight of Jack Benson's head, above the water at the point where
the submarine had gone down. And now, Captain Jack, after blowing out
a mouthful of water, had started to swim ashore with long, easy strokes.

Not quite catching the great significance of it all, the Melvilles and
the lawyer hurried after the builder.

Captain Jack Benson, clad only in a bathing suit, stepped out of the
water and stood laughing before his employer.

"Jack, how on earth did you--" began Farnum, then stopped, overpowered
by another wave of amazement.

"What's the meaning of all this?" demanded the elder Melville, pantingly,
as he reached the scene.

"Mr. Melville, and gentlemen," cried the boatbuilder, wheeling upon his
guests, "do you even begin to grasp the importance of the marvel you have
just witnessed? One of the great indictments found against the
submarine torpedo boat is that, when one sinks and cannot be brought to
the surface again, the crew must miserably perish. Very humane people
shudder at the very idea of ordering men into a craft that may go to the
bottom and become the hopeless grave of the crew. Yet the 'Pollard' lies
at the bottom of this harbor, and Captain Benson has just come to the
surface, laughing and uninjured."

"I suppose he opened the manhole cover, and rose to the surface,"
hazarded Mr. Melville.

"In that case, sir," smiled Captain Jack, "wouldn't you expect the
'Pollard' to be filled with water, and my companions drowned? Besides,
sir, at a depth of seventy feet, the pressure of the water is such that
it would be sheer impossibility to raise the manhole cover."

"Then how did you get here?" demanded the capitalist.

"Pardon me, sir," replied Jack, courteously, though firmly.

"Do you refuse to answer my question, boy?"

Again the irritating, half-contemptuous use of "boy" made Jack's cheeks
flush, though he answered merely:

"I think, sir, Mr. Farnum has a right to the first in