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Updated: June 3, 2025
It was the poor ignition work that was making the motors respond so badly. A little less, and a little less, of the electric spark that burned the gasoline, and air mixture that was the secret of the gradually decreasing speed, while all the time it looked as though the "Farnum" was doing her level best to win the race. Whistling, as he bent over, Sam Truax caught up a long, slender steel bar.
All of them might have felt disturbed, however, had they known of one thing that happened. The naval machinists aboard the first submarine boat, the "Pollard," now owned by the United States Government, found something slightly out of order with the "Pollard's" engine that they did not know exactly how to remedy. Sam Truax, hanging around the Basin that Sunday forenoon, was called upon.
Then two or three other questions were asked by other cadets. It was plain, however, that to all of the cadets the use of "sir" to so young a boy appealed, at least, to their sense of humor. Through the engine room door Sam Truax and Williamson stood taking it all in. Sam saw a flash in the eye of one big cadet when the question of "sir" came up. Presently the squad filed into the engine room.
“Doesn’t that part need loosening up a bit, sir?” asked the cadet in charge of the engineer division. “Yes,” replied Hastings, after watching a moment; “it does.” “I’ll do it, then,” proposed Truax, roughly. He attempted to crowd his way past Hal, but the latter refused to be crowded, and stood his ground until the midshipman passed him a wrench. Then Hastings loosened up the part.
"What aire yer goin' ter do erbout it?" asked Bud. "Aire yer goin' ter turn over ther motor car an' give yer infermation ter ther police?" "Not on your life," answered Ted. "At least, not yet. I'm going to work on it a bit myself first." "But won't Mr. Truax tip it off?" "I'll warn him not to." "But how erbout ther feller in ther check suit what wuz so kind an' attentive ter us?"
The naval machinists aboard the first submarine boat, the “Pollard,” now owned by the United States Government, found something slightly out of order with the “Pollard’s” engine that they did not know exactly how to remedy. Sam Truax, hanging around the Basin that Sunday forenoon, was called upon. He gladly responded to the call for help.
You’re sturdy, following the sea all the time, as you do.” With a thoughtful air Sam Truax drew a small bottle from his pocket, sprinkling some of the contents over Jack’s uniform coat. Immediately the nauseating smell of liquor rose on the air.
Farnum appears and gives the order.” “I understand,” said the night watchman, nodding. “That’s all, then, and thank you.” Jack Benson hastily rejoined the others on the sidewalk. “I don’t believe, Mr. Truax, it will be worth your while to come here earlier than eight in the morning. Better go to the hotel and tie up to a good sleep. Good night.”
"Say, why did you take such a dislike to the fellow?" queried Eph, as the three submarine boys strolled on up the street, Truax following slowly at some distance in the rear. "I didn't take a dislike to him," Jack replied, opening his eyes wide. "You choked him of mighty short, then." "If it looked that way, then I'm sorry," Benson protested, in a tone of genuine regret.
Overheat a piston, and then try to correct it with a file!" cried young Somers, disgustedly. "The crazy blacksmith! He ought to be set to shoeing snails that's all he's fit for." "It looks that way," Hal assented, smiling. Artful, clever Hal! He had carried it all off so coolly and naturally that Sam Truax, who had been closely studying Hastings's face from the background, was wholly deceived.
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