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Updated: June 13, 2025


Commander Ennerling used his glasses for some moments. "Shall I answer with our searchlight, sir?" inquired the submarine boy. "No, no, thank you. I'm more interested in seeing how close we can get to that vessel, since she belongs to the Navy, before she succeeds in picking us up with her light.

Their appearance did not excite much interest among the natives, for all three were in ordinary civilian dress. Commander Ennerling came as president of the board; the other two members were Lieutenant Commander Briscoe and Lieutenant McCrea, the latter serving as recorder of the board. "I've had the pleasure of meeting you before, haven't I, Lieutenant?" murmured Mr. Farnum, in an aside.

"Aye, aye, sir!" rose Hal's voice, clear and strong. "Pass the word to load the torpedo tube." "Aye, aye, sir!" Next, hailing the "Selma," Ennerling called: "Last hail before trouble! Do you surrender?" "No, you sea-lawyer!" Just a word to Jack from the Naval officer, and the "Pollard" shot ahead of the other craft, then came up and around, going after the yacht on the quarter, nose on.

The white-haired man, in the meantime, was hurriedly making himself known to Commander Ennerling as Egbert Lawton, owner of the "Selna," a hundred-and-forty-foot schooner rigged steam yacht. The ladies were his wife and his sixteen-year-old daughter, Miss Ethel Johnson was the steward's name. "Get after the yacht again, Captain Benson," requested Commander Ennerling.

Part of the time some of the officers spent below smoking, though always at least one of them remained on deck, to make sure that the log record was not tampered with. At exactly the end of the hour the indicator of the log was read off. "Twenty-one and four tenths knots!" cried commander Ennerling, with an expression of amazement. "Whew!

"He was turned loose on the door to take up your attention, while we did the tie-behind trick." A rope ladder having been lowered, Commander Ennerling, by nimble use of the tow-line, had succeeded in reaching it, and he now came over the rail, chuckling. "It's on the 'Massapequa, I admit," grinned Braylesford. "On me, I'm afraid," pronounced the watch lieutenant, with a half-groan.

"Very good," nodded the builder. Hal took this as the signal to leap back into the motor room. "How far below the surface would you dare run the 'Pollard, Captain Benson?" inquired Commander Ennerling. "At the greatest depth we can go, the present depth," quietly answered Jack, without bravado. The president of the board glanced at the builder of the submarine. "Does that appeal to you, Mr.

"The marine guard, if there is one, didn't see the line flying," whispered Jack, gliding back over the "Pollard's" hull to the platform deck. "I don't think I'll be caught now until I'm on that other boat's deck." "Good work! Fine!" whispered Commander Ennerling, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "Here's the note."

For nearly an hour the "Pollard" had been running out to sea at something below her full speed. She was now something like a dozen miles off the coast. Commander Ennerling had just decided that it would be a good time to test the diving capabilities of the submarine. Ventilators were shipped, and all other preparations had been made for going below the surface.

"Stop that mutiny and submit to your officers," insisted Commander Ennerling, sternly. "Do you want us to come aboard and wipe you out to the last man?" "You can't board us, from a craft of that kind," jeered the fellow at the yacht's rail. "You'll find we can, if we have to." "Come along, then!" "Do you realize, my man, that we are United States Naval officers?"

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