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Submarine Boys and the Middies

<h1>CHAPTER VIII: A YOUNG CAPTAIN IN TATTERS</h1> “Now, yo'll do, Ah reckons.” With that, the mulatto guide of the night before threw down one end of an inch rope. “Ah reckon yo's sailor ernuff to clim' dat. Come right erlong, 'less yo' wants de dawgs ter jump down dar.” “But they'll tackle me if I come up,” objected Jack Benson. “No, dey won't. Dem dawgs is train' to dis wo'k. Ah done tole yo' dat. Come right erlong. Ah'll keep my two eyes on dem dawgs.” It looked like a highly risky bit of business, but Jack told himself that, now he had been deprived of his valuables, this yellow worthy must be genuinely anxious to be rid of the victim. So he took hold of the rope and began to climb. The mulatto and the dogs disappeared from the upper edge of the pit. As his head came up above the level of the flooring Benson saw the mulatto and the dogs in the next room, the connecting door of which had been taken from its hinges. “Come right in, Marse Benson. Dere ain' nuffin' gwineter hu't yo',” came the rascal's voice reassuringly. Jack obeyed by stepping into the next room, though he kept watch over the dogs out of the corners of his eyes. “Now, yo' lie right down on de flo', Marse Benson,” commanded the master of the situation. “Ah's gotter tie yo' up, befo' Ah can staht yo' back ter 'Napolis, but dere ain' no hahm gwine come ter yo'.” Making a virtue of necessity, Captain Jack lay down as directed, passing his hands behind his back. These were deftly secured, after which his ankles were treated in the same fashion. Immediately the mulatto, who was strong and wiry, lifted the boy and the lantern together. The dogs remaining behind, Jack was carried out into the yard, where he discovered that daylight was coming on in the East. He was dumped on the ground long enough to permit his captor to lock the door securely. Then the submarine boy was lifted once more, carried around the corner of the house and dumped in the bottom of a shabby old delivery wagon. A canvas was pulled over him, concealing him from any chance passer. Then the mulatto ran around to the seat, picking up the reins and starting the horse. It seemed like a long drive to the boy, though Benson was certainly in no position to judge time accurately. At last the team was halted, along a stretch of road in a deep woods. The mulatto lifted the submarine boy out to the ground. “Now, w'en yo's got yo' se'f free, yo' can take de road in dat direckshun,” declared the fellow, pointing. “Bimeby yo' come in sight ob de town. Now, Marse Benson, w'at happen to yo' las' night am all in de co'se ob a lifetime, an' Ah hope you ain't got no bad feelin's. Yo' suttinly done learn somet'ing new in de way ob tricks. Good-bye, sah, an' mah compliments to yo', Marse Benson.” With that the guide of the night before swiftly cut the cords at Jack's wrists, then as swiftly leaped to the seat of the wagon, whipping up the horse and disappearing in a cloud of dust. Jack, having now no knife, and the bonds about his ankles being tied with many hard knots, spent some precious minutes in freeing his feet. At last he stood up, fire in his eyes. “Oh, pshaw! There's no sense in trying to run after that rascal and his wagon,” decided the young submarine skipper. “I haven't the slightest idea what direction he took after he got out of sight, and—oh, gracious! I'm under orders to be aboard the 'Farnum' at eight this morning. And on Mr. Farnum's business, at that!” Clenching his hands vengefully, Jack started along in the direction pointed out by his late captor. Brisk walking wore some of the edge off his great wrath. Catching a comprehensive glimpse of himself, Jack could not keep back a grim laugh. “Well, I certainly am a dandy to spring myself on the trim and slick Naval Academy!” he gritted. “What a treat I'll be to the cadets! That is, if the sentry ever lets me through the gate into the Academy grounds.” As he hurried along, Jack Benson decided that he simply could not go to the Naval Academy presenting any such grotesque picture as he did now. Yet he had no money about him with which to purchase more presentable clothes in town. So he formed another plan. Within a few minutes he came in sight of Annapolis. Hurrying on faster, he at last entered the town. The further he went the more painfully conscious the boy became of the ludicrous appearance that he made. He saw men and women turn their heads to look after him, and his cheeks burned to a deep scarlet that glowed over the sea-bronze of his skin. “The single consolation I have is that not a solitary person in town knows me, anyway,” he muttered. Then he caught sight of a clock on a church steeple—twenty-five minutes of eight. “That means a fearful hustle,” he muttered, and went ahead under such steam that he all but panted. At last he came to the Maryland House, opposite the State Capitol grounds. Into the office of the hotel he darted, going straight up to the desk. A clerk who had been on duty for hours, and who was growing more drowsy every moment, stared at the boy in amazement. “See here, you ragamuffin, what—” “My name is Benson,” began the boy, breathlessly. “I'm a guest of the house—arrived last night. I—” “You, a guest of this house?” demanded the clerk of the most select hotel in the town. “You—” That was as far as the disgust of the clerk would permit him to go in words. A score of well-dressed gentlemen were staring in astonishment at the scene. The clerk nodded to two stout porters who had suspended their work nearby. It had been Jack Benson's purpose to go to his room and keep out of sight, while despatching one of the colored bell-boys of the hotel with a note to Hal Hastings, asking that chum to send him up a uniform and other articles of attire. However, before the young submarine captain fully realized what was happening, the two porters had seized him. Firmly, even though gently, they hustled him out through the entrance onto the street. “Scat!” advised one of the pair. Jack started to protest, then realized the hopelessness of such a course. In truth, he did not blame the hotel folks in the least. “Oh, well,” he sighed, paling as soon as the new flush of mortification had died out, “there's nothing for it but to hurry to the Academy. I hope the sentries won't shoot when they see me,” he added, bitterly. Across the State Capitol grounds he hurried, then down through a side street until he arrived at the gate of the Academy grounds. “Halt!” challenged a sentry, as soon as Jack showed his face through the gateway. Young Benson stopped, bringing his heels together with a click. “What do you want? Where are you going?” demanded the marine. “I know I look pretty tough,” Jack admitted, shamefacedly. “But I belong aboard the 'Farnum,' one of the submarines that arrived last night. And I'm due there at this minute. Please don't delay me.” “All right,” replied the sentry, after surveying the boy from head to foot once more. Then he added, in a lower tone, with just the suspicion of a grin showing at the corners of his mouth: “Say, friend, for a stranger, you must have had a high old frolic in the town last night.” Jack frowned. The sentry's grin broadened a bit. As he did not offer to detain the boy longer, Benson hurried on along one of the walks. He took as short a course as he could making straight for the Basin, where he made out the “Hudson” and the two submarines. “Hey! There's the captain!” shouted Eph, wonderingly, for Somers's eyes were sharp at all times. Out of the conning tower sprang Hal Hastings, looking eagerly in the direction in which Eph Somers pointed: “Eh?” muttered another person, lounging near the rail of the gunboat. Then Lieutenant Commander Mayhew, after a keen, wholly disapproving look at the hard-looking figure of a young man at the landing, started, as he muttered: “Benson, by all that's horrible! How did he come to be in that fearful shape? He must have been in one of the worst resorts within miles of Annapolis!” “This isn't the first time the young man has come back the worse for wear,” the lieutenant commander continued, under his breath. “His friends were loyal enough to him, that time. I wonder if they can be, to-day?” One of the shore boats, waiting about in the Basin, put young Benson aboard the “Farnum” as soon as he explained who he was. Hal and Eph stood awaiting the coming of their young commander, their faces full of concern and anxiety. Both gripped Jack's hand as soon as he gained the platform deck of the submarine. “Come below,” whispered Hal. “We'll talk there. You need a bath and to get into a uniform as quickly as you can.” This need Jack Benson proceeded to realize without an instant's delay. While he washed himself off, in one of the staterooms aft, he talked through the door, which had been left ajar. He continued his story while he dressed. “We were fearfully anxious this morning,” Hal confessed. “I went to sleep last night, and didn't know of your absence until this morning. Then Eph and I decided to come on down to the boat to see if you were here. We were just planning to send quiet word to the Annapolis police when Eph spotted you coming.” “And Truax?” inquired Captain Jack. “He and Williamson are forward in the engine-room, now, at breakfast.” “Oh, well, Truax wouldn't know anything about the scrape, anyway,” returned Jack. “His name was learned and used—that's all.” “Are you going to try to find that place, catch the mulatto and force the return of your money?” demanded Eph Somers. “I've got to think that over,” muttered Jack, as he drew on a spick-and-span uniform blouse. “I don't know whether there'll be any use in trying to find that mulatto. I haven't the least idea where his place is. Even if I found it, it's ten to one I wouldn't find the fellow there.” “'Farnum,' ahoy!” roared a voice alongside, the voice coming down through the open conning tower. Eph ran to answer. When he returned, he announced: “Compliments of Lieutenant Commander Mayhew, and will Mr. Benson wait on the lieutenant commander on board the parent boat?” “I will,” assented Jack, with a wry face, “and here's where I have to do some tall but truthful explaining to a man who isn't in the least likely to believe a word I say. I can guess what Mr. Mayhew is thinking, and is going to keep on thinking!” <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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