While the two submarine boys were guiding their weak, dizzy comrade out to the sidewalk a man came by with a swinging stride. Then he stopped short, staring in amazement.

"Hullo, boys! What on earth has happened?"

It was Grant Andrews, foreman of the submarine work at the yard, and a warm personal friend of Benson's.

"I don't believe the old chap feels like telling us just now," muttered Hal, with a sour face.

"Whiskey!" muttered Andrews, almost under his breath. "What does it mean?

Benson never touched a drop of that vile stuff, did he?"

"He'd sooner drown himself," retorted Hal, with spirit.

"Of course he would," agreed Grant Andrews. "But what is the meaning of all this?"

"Oh, there's some queer, hocus-pocus business on foot," muttered Hal, bitterly. "But I don't believe Jack feels much like telling us anything about it at present."

In truth, Jack didn't seem inclined to conversation. He was too sore and dazed to feel like talking. He couldn't collect his ideas clearly. The most that he actually knew was that the pain in his head was tormenting.

"I'll pick him right up in my arms and carry him," proposed Andrews. "I'll take him to Mr. Farnum's office. Then I'll get a doctor. We don't want much noise about this, or folks will be telling all sorts of yarns against Jack Benson and his drinking habits, when the truth is he's about the finest, steadiest young fellow alive!"

Just as Andrews was about to carry his purpose into action, however, an automobile turned the nearest corner and came swiftly toward them. In another instant it stopped alongside. It contained Mr. Farnum and his chauffeur, besides three naval officers.

"What's wrong, Andrews?" called the yard's owner. "Why, that's Jack Benson! What has happened to him?"

Hal and Eph stood supporting their comrade, almost holding him, in fact.

Jacob Farnum leaped from his automobile. Lieutenant Commander Mayhew followed him.

"Liquor, eh?" exclaimed the naval officer, the odor reaching his nostrils.

"No such thing," retorted Farnum, turning upon the officer. "At least, Jack Benson has been drinking no such stuff."

"It was only a guess," murmured Mr. Mayhew, apologetically. "You know your young man better than I do, Mr. Farnum."

"There is liquor on his clothing," continued the shipbuilder. "It looks as though someone had a.s.saulted the lad, laid him out, and then sprinkled him. It's a wasted trick, though. I know him too well to be fooled by any such clumsy bit of nonsense."

"A stupid trick, indeed," agreed Lieutenant Commander Mayhew, but the naval officer did not quite share the shipbuilder's confidence in the submarine boy's innocence. Mr. Mayhew had known of too many cases of naval apprentices ruined through weak indulgence in liquor. Indeed, he had even known of rare instances in which cadets had been dismissed from the Naval Academy for the same offense. The lieutenant commander's present doubt of Jack Benson was likely to work to that young man's disadvantage later on.

Others of the party left the auto. Hal and Mr. Farnum got into the tonneau, supporting Jack there between them. Thus they carried him to Mr.

Farnum's office at the yard, Grant Andrews then going in the car after a doctor, while the others stretched Jack on the office sofa. The naval officers returned to the "Hudson," at anchor in the little harbor below.

"The young man acts as though he had been struck on the head," was the physician's verdict. "No bones of the skull are broken. The odor of liquor is on his coat, but I can't seem to detect any on the breath."

"Of course you can't," commented Jacob Farnum, crisply. "Will Benson be fit to sail in the morning?"

"I think so," nodded the doctor. "But there ought to be a nurse with him to-night."

"Take my car, Andrews, and get a man nurse at once," directed Mr. Farnum.

"Doctor, can the young man be moved to his berth on the 'Farnum'?"

"Safely enough," nodded the medical man. They waited until the nurse arrived, when Jack was put to bed on the newer submarine craft.

Jack slept through the night, moaning once in a while. Mr. Farnum and the Dunhaven doctor were aboard early to look at him. The surgeon from the "Hudson" also came over.

Under the effects of medicine Jack Benson was asleep when, at ten o'clock that morning, the two submarine torpedo boats slipped their moorings, following the "parent boat," the "Hudson," out of the harbor.

Ten minutes later the motion of the sea awoke the young skipper.

CHAPTER V: TRUAX SHOWS THE SULKS

"Hullo!" muttered the young submarine skipper, staring curiously about the little stateroom aft. He had it to himself, the nurse having been put on sh.o.r.e. "Under way, eh? This is the queerest start I ever made on a voyage."

Nor was it many moments later when Jack Benson stood on his feet. His clothes were hung neatly on nails against the wall. One after another Jack secured the garments, slowly donning them.

"How my head throbs and buzzes!" he muttered, his voice sounding unsteady.

"Gracious! What could have happened? Let me see. The last I remember-pa.s.sing that high fence-"

But it was all too great a puzzle. Benson finally decided to stop guessing until some future time. He went on with his dressing. Finally, with his blouse b.u.t.toned as exactly as ever, and his cap placed gingerly on his aching head, he opened the stateroom door, stepping out into the cabin.

Accustomed as he was to sea motion, the slight roll of the "Farnum" did not bother the young skipper much. He soon reached the bottom of the short spiral stairway leading up into the conning tower. Up there, in the helmsman's seat, he espied Hal Hastings with his hands employed at the steering apparatus. Hal was looking out over the water, straight ahead.

"Sailing these days without word from your captain, eh?" Jack called, in a voice that carried, though it shook.

"Gracious-you?" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Hal, looking down for an instant. Then Hastings pressed a b.u.t.ton 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. There was s.p.a.ce to spare on the seat beside Hal, and into this Jack Benson sank.

"Say, you ought to sleep until afternoon," was Hastings's next greeting, but Jack was looking out of the conning tower at the scene around him.

The three craft were leaving the coast directly behind. About three hundred yards away, abeam, steamed the "Hudson" at a nine-knot gait.

"The 'Pollard' is on the other side of the gunboat, isn't she?" asked Jack.

"Yes," Hal nodded.

"Naval crew aboard her?"

"Yes; Government has taken full possession of the 'Pollard.'"

"Who's running this boat? Just you and Eph?"

"No; that new man, Truax, is on board, and at the last moment Mr. Farnum put Williamson, one of the machinists, aboard, also. You can send Williamson back from Annapolis whenever you're through with him."