“I’m inclined to think,” replied the boatbuilder, “that I am.  It seems like too good a thing to miss.”

On board the “Pollard” the cabin lights burned late that evening.  Once the plan invented by Captain Jack was explained to the others all hands turned to, in great glee, to make preparations.

Ships of any size always carry, as a part of the cruising supplies, a stock of paints and brushes.  The submarine craft was so provided.

Jack caused to be brought from one of the lockers a can of prepared white paint.  This was thinned with oil and tested for the business in hand.  Then the best brush for the purpose was picked out.  To this was fitted a long handle.  Two short sticks had to be spliced to make a handle of sufficient length.

“How are you on lettering, Captain?” guffawed Mr. Farnum, while preparations were thus being made.

“Nothing extra,” Jack admitted.  “But I guess I can at least make legible letters.”

All was in readiness long before need came.  At about quarter past eleven o’clock that night the “Pollard” noiselessly slipped from her moorings.  At that time none of the searchlights of the fleet at anchor happened to be turned toward the submarine boat.

Ventilators were taken in, the manhole cover was closed, lights were extinguished, and, the next instant, the “Pollard” began to sink.  Only one light burned aboard, and that came from a small lantern in the engine room, where Hal Hastings crouched over the electric motor, keeping strict track of the revolutions.  While Jack Benson steered strictly to compass, Hal counted the revolutions until the number had been reeled off to carry the submarine the estimated distance under water.  Then Hal shut off speed, while Eph Somers passed word to the young captain.

“Let her come up slowly, until I give the word,” called down Captain Jack.  “Don’t rush with the raising.”

So compressed air was turned into the diving tanks, slowly expelling the water therefrom.  Very slowly the “Pollard” rose.  Jack, watching intently, knew the instant that the conning tower’s top was above waves.

“Stop,” he called down.  Just ahead, about sixty feet, lay the seaward side of the battleship “Luzon’s” great gray hull.  With his hand on the electric speed control Captain Jack moved the submarine in until she lay alongside the big battleship.

With the greatest stealth the manhole cover was raised by Hal and Eph.  Captain Jack, in the meantime, was rapidly shedding his clothing, until he stood forth in a bathing suit only.  Clad in this garment he slipped out over the top of the conning tower.  The platform deck was under water, but Benson touched it with his feet.

“No hail from the deck above,” he whispered to Hal.  “Now, pass me the paint and brush like lightning.”

The brush was passed out, the paint can being rested on the edge of the manhole, where Hal steadied it.  Taking up a good sopping of paint on the brush, Captain Benson rapidly sketched, on the gray side of the battleship a letter “P” some six feet long.