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“You’re the rawest recruits, the worst landlubbers I’ve ever seen,” declared Cadet Midshipman Merriam, with severe dignity. “Rest, before you try it any further.” The smile had all but left Jack Benson’s lips, though he tried to keep it there. Hal Hastings made the most successful attempt at looking wholly unconcerned. Eph’s face was growing redder every minute.
As regular as drumbeats the cadets ripped out the syllables of the refrain. At each word Jack Benson’s body shot higher and higher. These young men were experts in the gentle art of blanket-tossing. Ere long the submarine boy was going up into the air some eight or nine feet at every tautening of the blanket. As for escape, that was out of the question.
“I don’t know,” replied the doctor, shrugging his shoulders. “I’m not a line officer, and therefore know nothing about the fleet’s manœuvres.” That reply, however, was quite enough to send Jack Benson’s suspicions aloft. “Eph,” he cried, wheeling upon his friend the moment Doctor McCrea was gone, “there’s something you haven’t told us.”
Or is his temper due to coffee?” Answering only with a quiet grin, Hal rowed alongside the starboard side gangway. Jack, waiting, sprang quickly to the steps, ascending, waving his hand to Hal as he went. Young Hastings quickly shoved off, then bent to his oars. “Where’s the pilot?” came a stern voice, from the bridge, as Jack Benson’s head showed above the starboard rail.
“What?” demanded Truax harshly. “When I was first called in to you, you were not sick, only scared by the remarks of others. After we got you in here, we dosed you with ipecac. That started your stomach to moving up and down.” “What? You poisoned me?” “The ipecac was my choice. It isn’t poison. The general idea was Captain Benson’s. With a lad like him you haven’t a chance.”
Merriam, turning to Hal. “It’s a ride for your health. Do you understand? It will be wholly for your health to take that ride!” Hal Hastings couldn’t help comprehending. With a sheepish grin he sat astride of Jack Benson’s back as the latter stood on all fours. “Go ahead with your ride, General,” called Mr. Merriam.
I don’t understand Mr. Benson’s conduct. I remember his mishap at Dunhaven. I remember the plight he got into at Annapolis; and now he and Mr. Hastings are found in this questionable shape. I am very much afraid these young men do not conduct themselves, on shore, in the careful manner that must be expected of civilian instructors to cadets.” Eph Somers felt something boiling up inside of him.
Put that bar down, and leave the engine room.” “Come and take the bar from me—if you dare!” taunted the fellow, a more wicked gleam flashing in his eyes. “Hal!” called Jack, sharply. “Aye!” “Call two or three of the cadets down here. Don’t make any noise about it.” This order was called without Benson’s turning his head. He still stood facing the sneak while Hal sped away.
Jacob Farnum at last looked up from the final reading of the telegram in his hands. Captain Jack Benson’s gaze was fixed on his employer’s face. Hal Hastings was looking out of a window, with almost a bored look in his eyes. “You young men wanted action,” announced Mr. Farnum, quietly. “I think you’ll get it.” “Soon?” questioned Jack, eagerly.
Having warmed up to his subject, Jack Benson lectured earnestly, even if not with fine skill. At last he paused. “Any of the cadets may now ask questions,” announced Lieutenant Commander Mayhew. There was a pause, then one of the older cadets turned to Jack to ask: “What volume of compressed air do you carry at your full capacity?” “Mr. Benson’s present status,” rapped Mr.
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