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Updated: May 4, 2025
You know poor little Eph's dyin' of that white swellin'. You wouldn't have me refuse his mother anything we've got, would you?" Jane Miller walked back to the house with tears in her eyes, but her homely sallow face was transfigured by love as she went about her work, thinking to herself, "There never was such a man's Reuben, anyhow.
Then, by the bright moonlight, they saw the bare plateau below. The black barren where the adventurers had been working that afternoon. Masterson was the first to see traces of digging. He seized Eph's arm and pointed. "That's the place," he said in a hoarse whisper. "See, they've been at work there already." "Tom Tiddler's ground," whispered Eph.
"You know, Hal, old fellow, I've got to look out for the feeding of a lot of boarders to-day," complained Eph, whimsically. This task of Eph's took time, though it was not a hard one. The food for the cadets had been sent aboard. Eph had to make coffee and heat soup. For the rest, cold food had to do. The young men, on this trip, were required to wait on themselves.
"I am Ensign Somers, from the gunboat 'Sudbury." "Ensign, eh?" muttered the schooner's master, looking in some bewilderment at Eph's boyish face. "I beg your pardon, Mr. Somers." "What craft is this, sir?" Eph continued. "Schooner 'Varia, from New York, bound for Jamaica." "We saw 'Varia' painted on your stern, of course," smiled Eph. "But was that name painted there during the night?"
"It was Benson, too, who discovered the trick of leaving a submarine boat on the bottom, and coming to the top by himself, wasn't it?" slyly asked one of the visitors. "That was his discovery," nodded Eph, promptly. "What's the principle of the trick?" Eph's jaws snapped with a slight noise.
Then Hastings pressed a button connecting with a bell in the engine room. "I'm going up there with you," Jack volunteered. "Right-o, if you insist," clicked Eph Somers, appearing from the engine room and darting to the young skipper's side. True, Jack's head swam a bit dizzily as he climbed the stairs, but Eph's strong support made the task much easier.
"But at least you've been warned." Truth to tell, the young submarine commander wasn't much worried about Eph's deliberately provoking any fistic encounter with a fellow much smaller than himself. In the first place, the carroty-haired boy wasn't quarrelsome, unless actually driven into a fight. At all times Somers was too manly to take out wrath on anyone merely up to his own shoulder height.
"Please ma'am, Miss Betty, don't go and leave ole mistis's gyarden tools out in no rain," he entreated, plaintively. "Oh, Eph, are they really Grandmother Nelson's?" I exclaimed, with such radiance that it reflected from Eph's polished black face. "Yes'm, and they is too good to be throwed away on playing gyarden or sich," he answered, with feeling.
That word "cur" went far toward shattering Jack Benson's good resolutions. Letting go of Eph's arm he turned to glare at his tormentor. "You need a lesson, mucker," added Don, hotly. "Don't soil your hands on the fellow, Don," cried his father, sharply. "I must, sir, after he has insulted me," cried Don, in a rage. "I must kick him, anyway." "Nonsense, Don!
But call a boat named the 'Somers, after Eph, and then sell it, say, to the Germans or the Japanese, and all of Eph's American gorge would come to the surface. I'll wager he'd scheme to sink any submarine torpedo boat, named after him, that was sold to go under a foreign flag." "I hope we'll never have to sell any of our boats to foreign governments," replied Jacob Farnum, earnestly.
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