appears to be, sir, so far as the power's concerned,"
replied Andrews. "But I'm going to stay by the engine. I want to be
on hand to watch whatever might happen."

Power was applied to raise the anchor.

"You take the wheel, Benson, since you had it during the launching,"
said the yard's owner. "Somers, stand by on deck. Hastings, you
go below and stand with Mr. Andrews."

"Give the go-ahead at slow speed," directed David Pollard, nervously.

So Jack gave the speed wheel a small turn, then rested both hands
on the steering wheel. Without an unnecessary sound, and with no
outer lights showing, as yet, the "Pollard" was headed for the mouth
of the little harbor, Mr. Farnum standing by as pilot.

Just as they passed out on to the edge of the ocean Farnum himself
turned on the electric sailing lights.

"She rides the water easily," remarked Pollard, almost in a whisper. "I
wonder how she can go at speed?"

"We'll find out, now we've got clear seaway ahead," replied Mr. Farnum.
"Benson, turn on a few miles more."

Quickly obeying the impulse of her twin-propellers, the "Pollard." began
to dance over the waves.

"Say, but she's the fine, light-riding boat!" cried the builder, joyously.
"Just as I thought she would be. Give her more speed, Benson."

So the speed was turned on, more and more. The "Pollard," as far as
those aboard, could see, had the whole of that part of the ocean to
herself. She was still headed due east, and was moving at last at the
rate of seventeen of the twenty-one miles an hour of which she was
believed to be capable.

Even at this rapid gait the semi-immersed "Pollard" rode splendidly,
with hardly any vibration noticeable.

As he watched, instead of feeling the thrill of triumph that influenced
the crew, David Pollard's face was whitening with anxiety. His face,
almost ghastly in its look, was deeply furrowed.

"We're doing well enough on top of the water," he muttered, hoarsely,
at last, to the builder. "But will the boat dive? How will she run
under water? I must--know!"

"Good enough! We'll soon know, then," replied Jacob Farnum. He passed
the word for Andrews, who came on deck. The ventilators were quickly
shipped. Jack Benson shifted to the steersman's seat inside the conning
tower. Sailing lights were turned off; the manhole cover was battened
down securely. They were dependent, now, on the air-compressing
equipment whenever the air aboard became unfit to breathe