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Submarine Boys and the Middies

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<h1>CHAPTER XVI: BRAVING NOTHING BUT A SNEAK</h1> “You—here?” hissed Truax, wheeling about. He had not had time to make the thrust with the steel bar. Instead, as he wheeled, he raised it above his head, drawing back in an attitude of guard. As he did so, a vile oath escaped Truax's lips. “Put that bar down!” commanded Jack Benson, standing unflinchingly before the angry rascal. “I'll put it down on your head, if you don't get out of here!” snarled the wretch. “Put it down, and consider yourself off duty here, for good and all,” insisted Jack. “Are you going to get out of here, or shall I brain you?” screamed Truax, his face working in the height of his passion. “Neither,” retorted Captain Jack, coolly. “I command here, and you know it. Put that bar down, and leave the engine room.” “Come and take the bar from me—if you dare!” taunted the fellow, a more wicked gleam flashing in his eyes. “Hal!” called Jack, sharply. “Aye!” “Call two or three of the cadets down here. Don't make any noise about it.” This order was called without Benson's turning his head. He still stood facing the sneak while Hal sped away. “Now, I've got you alone!” gloated Truax. “I'll finish you!” A scornful smile curled Jack's lips as he gazed steadily back at his foe. “Truax, you're a coward, as well as a sneak.” “I am—eh?” With another nasty oath Truax stepped quickly forward, the steel bar upraised. He took but one step, however, for Captain Jack Benson had not retreated an inch. Nor did Jack have his hands up in an attitude of guard. “Are you going to put that bar down, Truax?” the young skipper demanded, in a voice that betrayed not a tremor. “No.” “Then you'll have to make good in a moment, for we're going to attack you.” “Bah! I can stave in two or three heads before any number of you could stop me,” sneered the fellow, in an ugly voice. “You could, but you won't dare.” “I won't?” “Not you!” At that instant rapid steps were heard. Hal Hastings returned with three of the midshipmen, behind them Williamson trying to crowd his way into the scene. “Just tell us what you want, Mr. Benson,” proposed Cadet Merriam, amiably. “This fellow has been 'doping' our engines,” announced Captain Jack. “And now he's threatening to stand us off. We'll close in on him from both sides. If he tries to use that steel bar on any of us—” “If he does, he'll curse his unlucky star,” declared Midshipman Merriam. “Come on, gentlemen. We'll show him some of the Navy football tactics!” The three midshipmen approached Truax steadily from the right. Jack, Hal and Williamson stepped in on the left. With a yell like that of a maniac Sam Truax swung the bar. Having to watch both sides at once, however, he made a fizzle of it. The bar came down, but struck the floor. Then, with a yell, the midshipmen leaped in on one side, Jack leading the submarine forces on the other. Mr. Merriam's trip and Jack's smashing blow with the fist brought Truax down to the floor in a heap. “Now, cart this human rubbish out of here!” ordered Jack Benson, sternly. “Don't hit him—he isn't man enough to be worthy of a blow!” Swooping down upon the prostrate one, Hal and the midshipmen seized Sam Truax by his arms and legs, carrying him bodily out of the engine room. “Williamson,” commanded Captain Jack, “stop the speed.” “In the race, sir. We—” “Stop the speed,” repeated Benson. “You're the captain,” admitted Williamson. Grasping the twin levers of the two motors he swung them backward. “Disregard any signal to go ahead until we've had a chance to inspect the motors,” added Captain Jack. Then the submarine skipper darted out into the cabin. Sam Truax lay sprawling on the floor. Midshipman Merriam, a most cheerful smile on his face, sat across the fellow, while Hal and the other two midshipmen stood by, looking on. “Hold him please, until I can have the wretch taken care of,” requested Captain Jack, making for the spiral stairway to the conning tower. Just as the young skipper stepped out on deck he heard the “Hudson's” bow-gun break out sharply in the halting signal. Taking a megaphone, Benson stood at the rail until the gunboat ranged up alongside. “Have you broken down?” came the hail from the gunboat's bridge. “I thought it best to stop speed, sir. We'll have to look over our engines before it will be safe to attempt any more speed work,” Captain Jack answered. “I've caught a fellow tampering with our machinery. We hold him a prisoner, now. Can you take him off our hands, sir?” “One of your own men?” came back the question. “Of course, sir.” “We'll send a marine guard to take him, on your complaint, Mr. Benson.” “Thank you, sir.” The gunboat's engines slowed down. Ere long her port side gangway was lowered. Jack saw not only two marines and a corporal come down over the side, but Lieutenant Commander Mayhew appeared in person. That officer came over in the cutter. “You've had treachery aboard, have you?” asked the lieutenant commander, as he climbed up over the side. “Rather. A new machinist, taken aboard just before we sailed from Dunhaven. The same fellow who must have played the trick on the 'Pollard's' engines yesterday,” Benson replied. “I'll be glad to have a fellow like that in irons in the brig aboard the 'Hudson,' then,” muttered Mr. Mayhew. “I couldn't understand, Mr. Benson, how you were doing so badly in the full speed ahead dash.” “The prisoner below is the answer, sir,” Captain Jack replied. He then led the corporal and two marines below. The corporal produced a pair of handcuffs, which he promptly snapped over Truax's wrists. “You'll be sorry for this, one of these days,” threatened Truax, with a snarl that showed his teeth. “Some day, then, if you please, when I have more leisure than I have now,” Jack retorted, dryly. “This man is all yours, corporal.” Truax was foolish enough to try to hang back on his conductors. A slight jab through the clothing from one of the marines' bayonets caused the prisoner to stop that trick. He was taken on deck and over the side. “Coxswain, return for me after you've taken the prisoner to the 'Hudson,'” directed Mr. Mayhew. “Now, Mr. Benson, I would like to see what has been done to your engines.” “That's just what I want to know, too,” responded Jack. They found Hal and Williamson hard at work, inspecting the motors. “The ignition power was lowered, and that may have been the most that the fellow did,” said Hal. “Yet, at the same time, before putting these engines to any severe test, I believe they ought to be cooled and looked over.” Lieutenant Commander Mayhew frowned. “These delays eat up our practice cruise time a whole lot,” he grumbled. “I'll put the engines through their paces, and chance mischief having been done to them, if you wish, sir.” “No; that won't do either, Mr. Hastings,” replied the naval officer. “This craft is private property, and I have no right to give orders that may damage private property. I'll hold the fleet until you've had time to inspect your engines properly. By that time, however, we'll have to put back to the coast for the night, for our practice time will be gone.” “In the days to follow, sir,” put in Benson, earnestly, “I think we can more than make up for this delay. We won't have the traitor aboard after this.” “What earthly object can the fellow have had for wanting to damage your motors?” demanded the naval officer, looking hopelessly puzzled. “I can't even make a sane guess, sir,” Jack Benson admitted. An hour and a half later the “Hudson” and the two submarines headed back for a safe little bay on the coast. Here the three craft anchored for the night. <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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