erson did
not know about submarine boat work, then the young captain was not able
to find out what it was.

"Bill Henderson ought to be captain, not I," whispered Jack to his chum.

"If Mr. Farnum didn't find that out for himself," replied Hal, dryly,
"don't tell him."

"This man Henderson is certainly a jewel for us," murmured Captain Jack.

At the moment the three boys were standing on the platform deck, while
Henderson was stowing his limited baggage away below.

"Now, Cap, take this from me," muttered Eph, with the air of a wiseacre.
"When a man seems a crackerjack at anything, and doesn't have as good
a position as you think he ought to have, keep your eye on him."

"For what?" asked Captain Jack, smilingly.

"Oh, just to see what turns out to be wrong with the fellow."

"What can be, wrong with Henderson?"

"I didn't say anything was, did I?" queried Eph Somers.

"And I don't believe anything can be," responded Jack Benson, hopefully.
"Mr. Farnum has looked over the man's Navy discharge papers, and
Mr. Farnum isn't an easy one to take in."

CHAPTER XVII

IN THE GRIP OF HORROR

Before five o'clock that afternoon Dunhaven lined the water front. That
is to say, fully five hundred people of the little seaport town were
on hand. The "Pollard" was a local enterprise. If the great United
States Government expected to buy the boat, the people of the village
wanted to be on hand and give a rousing send-off to a homemade craft
that might yet be destined to become famous.

Cheer after cheer went up. Hats, parasols and handkerchiefs were waved.

"I don't know," growled one old salt in the shore throng. "If it was
a human sort of craft, meant to ride the waves as a good ship should,
I'd have more faith in her. I'm afraid that boat'll go to the bottom
one o' these days, an' forgit to come up again."

The old salt was promptly voted a croaker. Hadn't the "Pollard" been
given abundant tests by her crew? Had she failed to come up yet? So
the cheering redoubled when Captain Jack came up on the platform deck,
followed by the builder and the inventor.

"Thank you, my friends!" shouted Jacob Farnum, making a trumpet of
his hands. "We all thank you! Now, Captain Benson, make as handsome
a flying start as you can." Jack already stood by the wheel, where
he could reach all the controls. Down below the gasoline motor throbbed,
making the hull vibrate. Power had been ready for the last ten minutes.