The Submarine Boys and the Spies | Page 6

winter hotels.
Turning, glancing upward, the lieutenant looked at the leader with a glance of cool wonder.
"Play, man! Why don't you play? What are you there for?"
Then, all of a sudden, reddening, the band leader rapped his music stand with his baton, next gave the signal, and the band crashed forth into the exultant strains of:
"See! The Conquering Hero comes!"
At the third measure the band was all but drowned out by renewed cheering, that came more uproariously than ever.
Captain Jack Benson had surely chosen a dramatic manner of making his appearance at Spruce Beach. Ten thousand tongues were set wagging all at once. When there came a lull, a man's voice on a tug not far from the gunboat could be heard, asserting loudly:
"Well, that's what submarines are for--to sneak in while you're wiping a speck of dust from your eye!"
That remark, coming just as the band ceased its strains, was plainly audible, and brought a laugh from everyone aboard the submarine, including Eph, who was just climbing, in his bathing suit, up to the platform deck.
Lieutenant Commander Kimball, hurrying from his cabin, had joined Lieutenant Featherstone at the rail, the pretty girl slipping away to join a group of civilians.
"What do you think of us?" called Jacob Farnum, a broad grin of delight on his face.
"You'll do," admitted Kimball.
"Do you consider yourself sunk?" demanded David Pollard, laughingly.
"Theoretically, yes," assented Lieutenant Commander Kimball. "I wonder if you could do it as well in war time?"
"Couldn't possibly do anything like it in war time," called back Captain Jack Benson. "For, sir, you fly the Stars and, Stripes!"
That was a happy speech, delivered at just the right second. It set all within hearing to cheering again. And then the thousands beyond caught it up.
"I'll say this much," shouted back Lieutenant Commander Kimball, as soon as he could make himself heard: "We'd rather have you with us, Mr. Benson, than against us."
"You'll have your wish, sir, as long as I'm alive," Jack answered, turning and lifting his hat in simple yet eloquent salute to the Flag waving at the gunboat's stern.
All this time Hal Hastings stood by the deck wheel, one hand occasionally straying to the engine room signal buttons, as he kept the "Benson" just about a hundred feet from the gunboat and nearly abeam.
"Where shall I anchor, sir?" called Captain Jack, presently.
"Better take it about four points off our port bow and at least four hundred feet away, Mr. Benson," called back the lieutenant commander.
"Four points off port and four hundred feet it is, sir," answered the young submarine skipper, saluting. Then he gave the order to Hal.
"As soon as you're anchored, I'll send you over a boat to be at your disposal this afternoon," called Lieutenant Commander Kimball.
"We'll use the boat, sir, to pay you a visit, if you permit," Jack shouted back.
"By all means come aboard. Then we'll visit you. We're anxious to see the works of such a wonderful little craft."
Within ten minutes a man-o-war's cutter was alongside, rowed by six alert-looking young sailors, while a coxswain held the tiller ropes.
Messrs. Farnum and Pollard, Jack and Hal made up the visiting party, leaving Eph Somers aboard the submarine, with Williamson to help him at need.
Cordial, indeed, was the reception of the submarine folks aboard the gunboat. There was a great amount of handshaking to be done.
In the meantime, Eph Somers was having something in the way of trouble back on the platform deck of the "Benson."
Two small boats, manned by harbor boatmen, and each carrying a few passengers, had put off from shore, and now ranged alongside.
"How do you do, Captain?" shouted a young man at the bow of one of the boats.
"Louder!" begged Eph.
"How do you do, Captain?"
"Louder. I'm afraid the captain can't hear you yet," grinned the carroty-topped submarine boy. "He's over on the gunboat."
"Then who are you?"
"Who? Me?" demanded Eph, innocently. "Oh, I'm only the Secretary of the Navy."
"All right, Mr. Secretary," laughed the same young man. "We are coming aboard."
"Aboard of what?" inquired Eph.
"Why, you're submarine boat, of course," came the answer.
"Guess not!" responded Eph, briskly.
"Why, yes; we're newspaper men, and it's business, not fun with us."
The boat containing the speaker lay lightly alongside at this moment. In another moment the young man in the bow would have clambered up on deck, but Eph called down to him:
"Hold on! Stay where you are. My orders are to hit any fellow with a boathook who tries to come up here in the captain's absence."
"But we've got to have a look at your boat, don't you see?" insisted the newspaper man, though, as Eph carelessly picked up a boathook, the would-be caller waited prudently in the bow of his boat.
Young Somers was surely in a state of uncertainty. He had strict orders to allow no one aboard