Part 33 (1/2)

Ere the morning was over all the officers and men of the great war fleet were laughing at Lieutenant McCrea. The newspaper correspondents with the fleet got hold of the yarn, of course, and sent stories to their journals that helped to make the fame of the ”Pollard” and of those who handled her.

As for McCrea, he kept out of sight all he could. It was months before his brother officers in the Navy would let him hear the last of the joke that had been played upon him.

”Has it hurt us any?” repeated Jacob Farnum, when he returned to the submarine. ”It has helped us wonderfully. And, Jack, my boy, you're to lunch with the admiral to-day!”

In fact, that joke of Jack's was heard of in the halls of Congress later on. The significant fact of it all was that, while the ”Pollard” had been manoeuvred for the successful perpetration of the joke, neither of the other two submarines with the fleet was ”handy” enough to be used in quite such a neat trick.

When a United States rear-admiral entertains guests at luncheon aboard his flags.h.i.+p, the affair is a stately one. When our three friends appeared at table there were several naval officers in attendance.

”I have been laughing a good deal to-day, Captain Benson, over the joke sprung on us last night,” was Admiral Bentley's greeting. ”It was cleverly carried out, and with a great deal of skill in seamans.h.i.+p as well.”

”It wasn't intended, sir, to be so much a joke as a demonstration of what our boat can accomplish,” Jack replied, modestly.

”I haven't lost sight of the practical side of the affair, I a.s.sure you,”

rejoined the admiral. ”But I am afraid I have wounded one heart--McCrea's.”

”Then I am very sorry,” replied Jack, quickly. ”I had hoped he would feel as much like laughing as anyone.”

”Mr. McCrea might feel more like laughing, if it weren't for the fact that his brother officers insist on doing his laughing for him,” chuckled the admiral.

The talk now turned upon the ”Pollard's” construction, which the inventor explained, while Jacob Farnum threw in a few words now and then.

Captain Jack had the good taste to remain silent during this discussion.

Admiral Bentley asked many questions, appeared deeply interested, and promised to make a thorough trip of inspection aboard the submarine.

”The time may come, of course,” said the admiral, musingly, ”when a flag officer will have to make his headquarters aboard such a little craft, for the day may not be far distant when battles.h.i.+ps will be too c.u.mbrous and too costly to be risked any more at sea when a nation is engaged in war.”

”That's our captain's view of the possibilities,” nodded Mr. Farnum.

”It will be a sad blow to some of us old salts,” laughed the admiral.

”It isn't likely to strike me, of course. I shall be retired, and done with the service, before the big battles.h.i.+p becomes as useless in war as a ferryboat. But you, Captain Benson, will very likely live to see the day when the battles.h.i.+ps will be sold for freight steamers. By the way, my young friend, what is your age? Sixteen. Why, you are young enough to enter Annapolis. With your bent for things naval, why don't you try to interest your home Congressman in appointing you as a cadet?”

”If the battles.h.i.+p is to go, sir,” replied the youngster, ”or even if the submarine is to become a vastly more important craft, it seems to me that I shall be seizing the biggest chance by staying right with Mr. Farnum and Mr. Pollard. The greatest naval man of the future may be the all-around submarine expert.”

”There, again, I am inclined to think you are right, Captain Benson,”

nodded the old admiral, thoughtfully. ”My, but I often wish I could look forward, as you may, to being alive fifty years from now--living to see what sea warfare will be like _then_!”

While Jack Benson was listening or talking, he became conscious that one of the noiseless stewards waiting at table was eyeing him keenly, even if covertly, at such times as he approached.

The steward in question was brownhaired and smoothly shaven, a man of about fifty years of age who carried himself with much dignity. When Jack got his first good look at this man, the submarine boy felt certain that the steward's hair was dyed to its present color. There was something altogether familiar about the man's look, too, that puzzled young Benson.

Now, during a lull in the conversation, and between courses, this steward approached the table to replace young Benson's water-gla.s.s, which he had just filled.

As the steward reached out to set the gla.s.s down Jack wheeled, looking straight into the man's eyes.

The steward returned the look and paled, then--

Cras.h.!.+ The gla.s.s dropped from the man's fingers, breaking to fragments on the cabin floor.