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Submarine Boys and the Middies

<h1>CHAPTER XX: CONCLUSION</h1> Sam Truax sat in the brig, between decks on the “Hudson,” his scowling face turned toward the barred door, when the marine guard, taking a turn, peered in. “Good heavens, man! What ails you?” demanded the marine. “I'm all right,” growled the prisoner. “I'll be hanged if you look it.” “What are you talking about!” demanded the prisoner angrily. “Man alive, I wish you could see your face!” Three minutes later a sailor halted at the door, looked at Truax, then wheeled about to the marine. “Say, what ails that man? What's the matter with his face?” “Don't know. Looks fearful, doesn't he?” “Awful! Ought to have the doctor.” Sam shifted uneasily. Five minutes later a sailor wearing on one sleeve the Red Cross of the hospital squad came along. “Say,” said the marine, “I wish you'd look at the feller in the brig.” The hospital man showed his face at the grating and looked at Truax keenly. “Wow! The sawbones officer has got to look at this chap!” Sam Truax sprang to his feet, but his legs wobbled. He felt his heart-beats racing and his face flushing. “I felt all right a little while ago, but I certainly feel queer now,” he muttered. Doctor McCrea soon hurried below. “Sentry, unlock the door! Let me in there!” Doctor McCrea made a brief examination. “How long have you been feeling ill?” “N-not long,” faltered Truax. “Hospital man!” called Doctor McCrea. “Aye, aye, sir!” “Have the stretcher brought here at once.” “Aye, aye, sir!” The stretcher was brought, and the attendants put Truax on it. “I can walk, Doctor,” he protested feebly. “Can't risk it! To the 'sick bay,' men.” “What's wrong, Doctor?” Truax asked, when he was lifted from the stretcher and placed in one of the berths. “Don't talk, my man. Just lie quietly and let us get you on your feet—if we can,” he added under his breath, but not so softly but that Sam Truax heard him. The attendant came with a glass of liquid. “Drink this,” ordered the surgeon, “and in a few minutes you'll feel better.” “I—I feel awful,” Truax groaned. The dose was repeated, but the patient continued to grow worse. His nausea was overwhelming and he vomited over and over. In an interval of quiet the doctor leaned over him. “Have you anything on your mind, man? Any wrong you'd like to set straight before—before—” A look of fright came into Truax's eyes. “Doctor, I—I wonder if Jack Benson would come to see me?” “I'll see,” replied the doctor, rising and leaving the “sick bay.” Ten minutes later the naval surgeon returned with Benson. Hal Hastings, Mr. Mayhew and Ensign Trahern followed Jack and the doctor. “Here's Mr. Benson, Truax,” announced Doctor McCrea. “If there's anything you wish to confess, the rest of us can bear witness and help straighten matters out if you've done any wrong that you now regret.” Sam Truax feebly stretched out a hand that was hot and dry. “Benson, will you give me your hand?” “Certainly.” “Can you ever forgive me?” moaned the man. “Why, what have you done?” asked Jack. “That assault back in Dunhaven—” “Was it you who knocked me out there?” demanded Benson sharply. “Yes.” In a shaking voice Truax confessed the details of the affair and from that passed to Jack's trip to the suburbs of Annapolis. “I found the mulatto in a low den. I told him you carried a lot of money and that he could have it all if he'd decoy you somewhere, keep you all night, and send you back to the Naval Academy looking like a tramp.” He then added the name of the mulatto. “But why have you done this?” demanded Jack. “What have you against me?” “I didn't do it on my own account. I did it for Tip Gaynor, a salesman for Sidenham.” “The Sidenham Submarine Company?” cried Jack, deeply interested. “The Sidenham people are our nearest competitors in the submarine business!” he exclaimed. “Yes; and they wanted to get the business away from the Pollard Company. They told Tip Gaynor it would be worth ten thousand dollars to him for each Sidenham boat he could sell to the Government. Tip hired me—” “One moment, please,” interrupted Jack. “Did the Sidenham officials know that Gaynor intended to use such methods?” “I don't believe they did,” replied Truax. “Humph! So Gaynor hired you to do all you could to disgrace me in the eyes of the naval authorities and to injure the machinery in the engine room of the submarine!” “Yes. Tip said it was highly important that the Pollard boats should break down while under the eyes of all Annapolis, so that it would seem that they could not be depended upon.” Truax here became so ill that his audience had to wait until he could proceed. Then Jack asked: “What sort of looking fellow is Gaynor?” “He was the black-bearded man who shanghaied you in the white knockabout. He doesn't usually wear a beard. He grew it for the occasion.” “So, acting for Tip Gaynor, you undertook to ruin us all and the good name of our boats! You even met Dave Pollard and got him to take you on as a machinist for our boats!” “Tip knew a man who was willing to introduce me to Mr. Pollard.” “It was like kindly, unsuspicious Dave Pollard to be taken in by a rascal like that,” muttered Jack to himself. Sam Truax added a few more details to his confession, then said: “I couldn't die without telling you this, Benson. I hope you forgive me.” Before Jack Benson could reply Lieutenant Commander Mayhew stepped forward. “Truax, have you told us the exact truth?” “I have.” “You thought it would be easy to get the better of a boy like Benson, I suppose.” “Easy enough,” admitted Sam. “So did Tip.” “You shot far below the mark in guessing at Benson's ingenuity and brains,” remarked Doctor McCrea, laughing. “It was he who suggested this way of inducing you to make this confession after you had refused to answer the lieutenant commander's questions.” “What?” demanded Truax harshly. “When I was first called in to you, you were not sick, only scared by the remarks of others. After we got you in here, we dosed you with ipecac. That started your stomach to moving up and down.” “What? You poisoned me?” “The ipecac was my choice. It isn't poison. The general idea was Captain Benson's. With a lad like him you haven't a chance.” “Benson, you infernal cheat, you!” muttered Truax, and started to get out of the berth. But he was weak, and the attendant had no difficulty in thrusting him back. “In view of what you've been telling us, you'd better not sprinkle bad names about,” said the surgeon, turning on his heel. He was followed by the others, all chuckling. “Mr. Benson,” said Doctor McCrea, when the party was in the cabin, “are you my friend?” “I certainly am, sir,” cried Jack warmly. “Thank you,” said the doctor, making a comical face. “With your head for doing things, Mr. Benson, I feel safer with your friendship than I should if I had your enmity.” While they were still chatting in the cabin of the gunboat a shot sounded on deck. Then a corporal of marines rushed in, saluting. “The prisoner, Truax, sir, escaped while walking under guard on deck. He dived headlong, sir. The marine guard fired after him through the darkness, sir. The officer of the deck sends his compliments, sir, and wants to know if Truax is to be pursued in a small boat.” “At once, and with all diligence,” ordered the lieutenant commander. Though a thorough search was made, Truax was not found. It was thought that the fellow had been drowned. But months later it was learned that he was skulking in Europe with Tip Gaynor, who had received word in time to make his escape also. For two days more the instruction continued at sea. Then, the tour of instruction over, the little flotilla returned to the Academy at Annapolis. From there Captain Benson wired Mr. Farnum for further orders. Without delay came back the dispatch: “Navy Department requests that for present 'Farnum' be left at Annapolis. You and crew return by rail when ready.” Soon after this Jack was informed that the Annapolis police had run down the mulatto who had decoyed the young submarine skipper on that memorable night. Jack's money, watch and other valuables were later recovered and returned to him. Just before Jack and his mates were to leave the “Farnum” for the last time, Lieutenant Commander Mayhew came aboard, followed by Ensign Trahern and three of the midshipmen who had been under submarine instruction. “Mr. Benson and gentlemen,” said Mr. Mayhew, “I shall not make a set speech. What I have to say is that the cadet midshipmen who have been under your capable and much-prized instruction of late wish each of you to take away a slight memento of your stay here.” Machinist Williamson had not been omitted. Each of the four received from the lieutenant commander a small box, each containing a small gold shield. In the center was the coat of arms of the United States Naval Academy. At the top of each pin was the name of the one to whom it was given. Across the bottom were the words: FROM THE BATTALION OF NAVAL CADETS IN KEEN APPRECIATION OF ADMIRABLE INSTRUCTION "I think," said Mr. Mayhew, "that none of you will hesitate to wear this pin on vest or coat lapel. The gift is a simple one, but it practically makes you honorary members of the United States Navy of the future, and I am glad of it." <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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