he reached deck again.

"Yes. I want to keep the glass to my eyes."

Just one look did Benson take at the supposed derelict. Then he swung
his gaze around upon the "Thor."

"They've seen our speed-burst," cried the young submarine skipper. "I
don't believe they had spotted the derelict, but now they see us shooting
ahead, to cross their course, and that has told them the secret. Yes!
There they go ahead, and pointing straight. They've caught up the old
wreck--through our glasses!"

It was provoking, but the rival boat, besides being nearer at the start,
had also started forward at greater speed.

"This is the 'Thor's' trick," thought Lieutenant Danvers to himself.
"Too bad, too. I'd like to have seen the boys take it."

Jacob Farnum's private view, not expressed, agreed with the naval
officer's.

But Jack Benson? He simply couldn't admit any victory for the
rival--not until it was actually won.

"Swing a half-point off port bow, Eph--steady, now!" breathed the young
skipper, intensely.

Down below, Hal Hastings was performing as near to wonders as was
possible with a gasoline engine. Jacob Farnum stood just inside the
conning tower, prepared to rush below with any other orders.

"Yes, it's the derelict!" shouted Benson, presently. "I can make out
the stumps of two masts now. We'll be there in a few minutes."

"We'll be lucky if we don't get there too late," grumbled Somers. "Shall
I steer direct for the old wreck, or take the course from you?"

"Better take it from me for a time," Benson replied. "My glass will be
more dependable than your naked eye."

The "Thor," also, was heading straight for the derelict. So far, the
Rhinds boat was still nearer.

It began to look, however, as if the "Thor's" engines were not quite as
fast as those of the other Rhinds boat, the "Zelda."

"Are we going to make it?" breathed Eph, the perspiration of sheer strain
standing out on his forehead.

"Yes!" almost barked Jack Benson.

"Sure thing, is it?" persisted Somers.

"Sure--only don't talk too much," growled young Benson.

It was the grit, the dogged determination of the born commander--the
natural leader of men.

A moment later Jack turned a white face toward the shipbuilder.

"Mr. Farnum, tell Hal he'll have to pour the oil in faster. We've got
to have more speed."

Farnum did not even wait for the second sentence. He dived below. All
of a sudden the "Hastings" was seen to take a notable lea