Two or three minutes
later the "Pollard" slipped slowly away from her moorings, going out
where the little harbor was deeper. Then, the manhole being closed, the
submarine began to sink. Her conning tower was soon out of sight beneath
the surface.
"There's about seventy feet of water, where the boat is going down,"
observed Farnum, to his guests.
"What's the aim of all this mysterious work?" demanded Mr. Melville, with
some irritation.
"You know as much as I do," drawled Farnum, smilingly.
"It seems to me that you allow this young boat tender a good deal of
latitude, and tolerate a good deal of mystery in him," cried the
capitalist, impatiently.
"I have a good deal of confidence in my young _captain_," returned Farnum,
good-humoredly, though with considerable emphasis on the title. "So far
I have never had any need to regret giving Captain Benson rather a free
hand."
"Yet you--"
Mr. Melville stopped right there, for Jacob Farnum, his eyes turned in a
steady look out over the water, suddenly emitted an incredulous whoop.
Then, without explanation, the boatbuilder broke into a dead run that
carried him along the shore to the northern edge of the little harbor.
Nor was Mr. Farnum's astonishment to be wondered at, for he had just
caught sight of Jack Benson's head, above the water at the point where
the submarine had gone down. And now, Captain Jack, after blowing out
a mouthful of water, had started to swim ashore with long, easy strokes.
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