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Submarine Boys on Duty

<h2 id="id00297" style="margin-top: 4em">CHAPTER IV</h2> <h5 id="id00298">THE TRICK OF THE FLASHLIGHT</h5> "Have you seen anything of Owen, since he was discharged?" It was David Pollard who put the question, while the crew, under the new foreman, Andrews, was busy the next day with more work on the motor fittings. Then, for the first time, except to his chum, Jack Benson told of his meeting in the yard. "Making threats against you, and against the boat, is he?" smiled Mr. Pollard. "Well, he can't get near the boat. Partridge took the precaution of getting the keys back from Owen yesterday afternoon, when the fellow went to get paid off. But as for his threats against you—" "It will be just as well to look out for the fellow, Benson, and you, too, Hastings," put in young Mr. Farnum, who happened to be aboard. "Owen is an ugly fellow, and a powerful one, and I imagine he possesses a certain amount of rough brute courage." "I'm not afraid of him, sir," replied Jack, coolly. "At the same time, of course, I'll keep my eyes open." "Owen probably can't hang around Dunhaven very long, anyway," continued the owner of the yard. "I don't believe he has very much saved. Of course, he can't get any work in his line in Dunhaven, now that this yard is closed to him. So look out for a day or two, and, after that, I guess he'll be gone." "I'll keep my eye open, but I shan't lose any rest," smiled young Benson, confidently—too confidently, as the sequel proved. Work was now proceeding at a rapid rate. Andrews was an ideal foreman, quiet, alert, watchful and understanding his trade thoroughly. He was something of a driver, as to speed, but workmen do not resent that if the one in authority be just and capable. "I wish we had had you as foreman from the start, Andrews," remarked the inventor. "Well, I was here, and ready to be called at any time," replied the new foreman, with a smile. "By the way, you don't seem to have any trouble with Benson or Hastings," pursued Mr. Pollard. "Not a bit. They're good helpers. In fact, young as they are, they are a long way on the road to being real mechanics." "You don't find them forward, or—well, fresh?" "They're not the least bit troubled that way," replied the new foreman emphatically. "Owen didn't get along with them, and couldn't have done so, because he's a nagger, and no self-respecting workman will stand for a nagger. There were times when O'brien and I wondered if we hadn't better pitch him out and then leave our jobs." Thus matters went along most smoothly. Jack Benson and Hal Hastings, with a good general knowledge of mechanics, and willing to work hard and tackle new problems, were learning much. Even before the "Pollard" was launched and sent on her trial trip these two boys showed remarkable proficiency in equipping and handling this wonderful class of craft. In the meantime the boys had left the hotel, taking up their quarters at a comfortable boarding-house where Foreman Andrews lived. Though Farnum was paying them fair wages, they were thrifty enough to be on the lookout for any outside work with their camera outfit. So it happened that, one evening after supper, Jack and Hal, carrying their outfit, set out on a walk of more than two miles. They had secured an order to go to a wealthy man's summer "cottage," as the great, handsome pile was called, there to make some flashlight photographs of some of the large, expensively furnished rooms. Time flew, and the owner of the cottage caused many delays by wishing furniture shifted about before the photographs were made. It was after eleven o'clock at night when the two submarine boys left the cottage to tramp back to Dunhaven. As they neared the village they heard the town clock striking midnight. That was the only sound they could hear besides the movement of their own feet. Dunhaven was wrapped in sound slumber. Their way led the boys close to Farnum's boatyard. As they came around a corner of the fence, Hal, who was slightly in the lead, stepped back quickly, treading on his friend's toes. "Sh!" whispered Hastings. "Keep quiet and take a sly peep around the corner. Look up along the fence and see what you make out." Slipping off his hat, Jack took a hasty look, exposing very little of his head, while Hal now crowded close to him from behind. "Someone trying to scale the fence," whispered Jack. "By Jove, there he goes. He has a good hold, and is going—now he's over in the yard." Such stealthy prowling could mean little else than mischief brewing. To both the boys came instantly the same thought: "The submarine boat!" "Did you recognize him?" whispered Hal, quivering. "No; too dark for that, and, besides, he was too quick. But we must hustle to alarm someone." "There's a watchman in the yard," Hal replied. "He ought to be getting busy." "I don't hear any hail, or any shot," Jack replied. "Hal, old fellow, we've got to do something ourselves." "Well, we can climb the fence as well as that stranger did." "We'd better. Here, take the flashlight gun. Pass that and the camera up as soon as I get to the top of the fence. We can't leave our outfit outside—it's worth too much money." With that Jack Benson swiftly found a knothole in which he could get a slight foot-hold. With that start he was quickly up on top of the ten-foot fence. Bending down he took camera and flashlight "gun." Hal hurriedly followed. Down in the yard, they started speedily though softly forward, going by impulse straight toward the submarine's shed, though keeping in the shadow of other buildings. Arrived at one corner of the office building, young Benson, who was in the lead, signaled a stop. Hal halted just behind him. "It's the submarine, all right, that the fellow's after," whispered Jack excitedly, as he peeped. "Make him out over there, at the door? Gracious! He's unlocking and throwing the padlock off. And, blazes! Can't you make out who it is, Hal?" "Josh Owen! But he gave up his keys." "He had at least one duplicate, then," declared Jack, in a tremulous whisper. "There, he's gone inside. Come on, Hal—soft-foot! We'll take a near look at what he's doing." There was some distance to be traveled, and it had to be done with the utmost stealth. Whatever Josh Owen—if it was truly he—was doing in the submarine shed, the young shadows did not wish to put him on his guard until they had caught him red-handed. "Where's the night watchman while all this is going on?" wondered Jack as he tip-toed forward. It was afterwards discovered that the watchman, who sometimes drank liquor, was at this moment sound asleep in one of the sheds. There was no time to be squandered in looking for him if Josh Owen was to be followed and foiled. Creeping to the now open door of the submarine's shed, Jack, who was in the lead, took a peep inside. There was a dim light in there, though it came from the further side of the hull. Benson signaled, and his friend followed him, stealthily, a step or two at a time, around to the stern of the "Pollard" as she lay on the stocks. By this time a noise that plainly proceeded from the use of tools came to the ears of the boys. Their nerves were on the keenest tension as they reached the stern of the propped-up hull. Then they came in sight of the quarry. Almost in the same flash they realized what the night's mischief was. Depending wholly on the light of a dark lantern that lay on the floor of the shed, Owen, with two or three tools, was swiftly, wickedly tampering with one of the sea-valves belonging to one of the forward water compartments of the submarine. This valve, if leaking badly when the craft lay submerged, would let in enough water to cause the "Pollard" to lurch and then go, nose-first, to the bottom. It was wholly possible, too, that a capable workman could tamper with the valve so that, on casual inspection, the damage would not be detected. Hal Hastings's heart beat fast as he viewed this dimly illumined piece of cowardly treachery. His fingers itched to lay hold of Josh Owen, uneven though the fight might be with both boys for assailants. But Jack Benson, though his first impulse was to let out a Comanche yell, and then dart forward into the fray, instantly conceived a plan that he thought would work better. Gripping his chum's arm for silence, Jack whispered in his ear: "Can you set the camera for universal focus, here in the shadow?" "I—I think so," came Hal's low, quivering reply. "Do it—like lightning, then!" In his hand Jack held the flashlight "gun." It was one of those patent affairs, arranged to fire a charge of magnesium powder by the explosion of a cap when the trigger was pressed. Dropping to one knee, Hal set the camera, half by instinct, half by guess. While he did so, Jack fixed a charge of the powder in the firing pan of the "gun." These preparations made hardly any noise; such as might have been heard in a silent room was drowned by the tap-tap of a small hammer that Josh Owen was at the moment using. And now, without glancing back at the stern, the ex-foreman half-turned his head, so as to give a profile view of his face. Hal, kneeling, turned up quickly to nod the signal that the camera was ready. Pop! Flare! As the cap exploded, a blinding flash filled that side of the shed for a brief instant. It was as through a lightning bolt had plunged into the place. Wholly unprepared for any such happening, Josh Owen let out a yell of fear, rose up and leaped back so that he upset and extinguished his dark lantern. "Wha-wha-what was that?" he faltered. In the intense darkness that followed the flash Jack and Hal stole away. Suffering all the terrors of a guilty conscience, increased by the terror of the inky darkness under such circumstances, Josh Owen tremblingly felt for his momentarily useless lantern. It took him some moments to find it. Even then his fingers shook so convulsively that it needed several trials before he got the light going. By this time Jack and Hal were safely outside. More than that, Jack held in his hand the padlock of the door, with the false key in it. "Why not slam the padlock shut over the door and lock him in there until we can get someone here?" whispered Hal Hastings. By this time the two boys were hiding behind the corner of a nearby building. "I thought of that," whispered Jack, "and I'd like to do it. But Owen has a fearful temper. If we locked him in there, and he knew he had to be caught, he'd do thousands of dollars' worth of damage. As it is, if you watch out, you'll soon see him quitting that shed and getting away as fast as he can." Not more than a few seconds later Josh Owen appeared at the door of the shed. He shut off the light from his dark lantern, then stole swiftly towards the fence. Going up and over, he vanished from sight. "Now, we'll lock the shed, take this false key to Mr. Andrews, and let him decide whether to rouse Mr. Pollard or Mr. Farnum," announced Jack Benson. Grant Andrews, as soon as he was aroused at the boarding house, and had been made to understand, took the false key, saying: "I'll go over to the hotel and call Dave Pollard. Then I'll do whatever he says." The inventor was greatly excited over the news borne to him by the new foreman. Together they hurried to the Farnum yard, unlocked the door to the submarine's shed, entered and made a hasty examination. Thanks to the promptness of Jack Benson and Hal Hastings, Josh Owen had not had time to inflict more damage to the forward sea-valve than could be readily repaired. "I guess that was what the infernal rascal meant when he told Jack Benson that the 'Pollard' would dive to the bottom and stay there," exclaimed the inventor, in a shaking voice. He smiled a ghastly smile. "We'll put a stop to such pranks after this," replied the new foreman. "Until your craft is launched, sir, I'll sleep here nights, beginning with what's left of to-night." Before the inventor left the yard, he hunted for and found the drunken night watchman, who was still asleep. That worthless guard was discharged the following day. <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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