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Updated: May 9, 2025
"I've had some enemies, in the past, but I don't know a single person about Dunhaven, now who has any reason for wishing me harm." Never a thought crossed his mind of suspecting Sam Truax. That worthy had come with a note from David Pollard, the inventor of the boats. Sam, therefore, must be all right, the boy reasoned. Jack lay back on the upholstered seat.
Probably, if ye do, it'll trot back into Dunhaven, and that'll be good enough." "Got any money for licker?" demanded Dan. "I can git some an' bring it back." "Go through the boys' pockets. Ye ought to find some cash there," hinted Owen. Dan looted a few dollars from the pockets of each captive.
“How should I know?” demanded Eph, solemnly. “You see your friends, and you see their condition.” “Smell their breaths, sir. There isn’t a trace of the odor of liquor.” The surgeon did so, confirming Eph’s claim. “But I remember that Mr. Benson came aboard, at Dunhaven, with a very strong odor of liquor,” continued the lieutenant commander.
Farnum, then on Captain Jack. "Ladies," confessed the Dunhaven shipbuilder, "you've already said enough, as I looked at your faces, to make me almost feel that I am one of the worst men alive." "Oh, no, no, no!" protested the girl. "You are going to prove yourself the most generous." Then, turning, the girl caught at one of Benson's hands appealingly. "You urge him!" she begged.
From behind a screen stepped Jacob Farnum, the Dunhaven shipbuilder. "Why, see here, boys," began Farnum, a broad smile on his face, "I received a long wire from Mr. Sanders yesterday. Dave Pollard and I talked this thing over, and we decided that the Pollard boat is now an assured success. You have put the boats where we can now build and run them without you. You are more needed in the Navy.
Jack ran the "Hastings" the first few miles of her homeward course. Then he called Eph Somers to the wheel and went below to relax. It was well on toward eight o'clock when the "Hastings" ran into the little harbor at Dunhaven and made moorings. The night watchman of the yard rowed out to meet them, bringing the news that Mr.
The outlook was not an encouraging one. "Say! Wow! Whoop! Blazes!" uttered Captain Jack, suddenly. "Now, I remember Long-legs! Millard was the name he gave when he came to us, at Dunhaven, last Fall. He was the chap who wanted to work on the submarine construction.
How they succeeded in getting their start in the Farnum yard, every reader of the preceding volumes knows; how, too, Eph Somers, a native of Dunhaven, managed to “cheek” his way aboard the craft after she had been launched, and how he had always since managed to remain there.
"No harm done, Professor," said Jack, moving toward the door, and turning the key to unlock it. "I'm sorry you had all the trouble and expense of coming to Dunhaven on a useless errand. Good-bye!" "Ach! You may go, but you will come back," scowled the other. "If not, your comrades will, I hope, prove to be young men of better sense and judgment." "Oh, they'll listen to you," smiled Jack.
But no sooner was he out of sight than Jack Benson turned upon his chum, his eyes ablaze. "Hal Hastings," he effused, in a low voice, "I had forgotten that Dunhaven was the home of the Pollard boat. But, since it is, and since we're here why, here we'd better stay." "Do you think we can get in on that job?" asked Hal, dubiously.
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