Yet with the
possibility that Tom would run afoul of a contact-exploding bomb and send
them all skyward, the engine tender waited at the rail with drawn breath.

Finally, there was a ripple on the water. Then Tom's head appeared; next
his shoulders.

"Conlon!"

"Here, sir."

"Here is one of the bombs. Handle it carefully."

"Trust me, sir."

Conlon drew the metal tube, with a piece of wire pendant from it, as
carefully as though it had been a royal baby and heir to a throne. Into
the boat the engine tender lifted the thing, and laid it carefully in a
locker. By the time that Conlon was back at the rail Reade had gone below
again.

"Down dere, aftah mo' death!" grinned the darkey. A colored man can
usually be brave when serving under a white leader in whom he has full
confidence.

Presently Tom came up with another metal tube, like the first.

"I'll hang on and get my breath," Tom informed the men in the boat, as he
rested one hand on the rail. "The other two bombs are about three feet
lower, and it's going to be hard to work at the lower depth."

"Be careful, won't you, sir?" urged Conlon, in a somewhat awed voice. "Mr.
Reade, we can't afford to lose you until this job is completed. Men with
all the nerve you show are scarce in the world."

"I know where there are forty thousand men with at least as much nerve,
many of them having several times as much as I," laughed Tom.

"Where on earth are they?" demanded the Irishman.

"In the United States Navy. If there were a battleship here the jackies
would be fighting for the honor of going down after these bombs."

Then Reade dropped out of sight, once more. Nor was it long before he
had the third and the fourth bombs aboard the boat. Then he climbed in
himself, dripping like a shaggy Newfoundland dog.

"Put in at the dock now," the young chief ordered, and the boat started on
its way.

"Some one signaling from the wall lower down," Tom soon informed the negro
pilot. "Put in where you see the signaling."

"It is I, Corbett," called the foreman of that name. "Mr. Reade, these
two men with me belong to the Blixton police."

"Perhaps you had rather walk down to the dock, then, instead of getting
into the boat," laughed Reade. "We have four bombs aboard, just taken
out of the wall above here."

Accordingly the three turned and walked. At the landing the policemen
gazed curiously at the bombs.

"Do you want to take charge of these?" Reade