Then, with rapid strokes, he swiftly finished the entire word: 

“Pollard.”

As the “Luzon” lay on the outer edge of the anchored fleet, and the submarine lay alongside on the seaward side, there was no danger of any betraying searchlight being turned on the perpetrators of this huge joke.

“It’s all done,” whispered Jack, chuckling softly, “and that wonderful watch officer above hasn’t hailed us or passed the word for the marine guard!”

“That man McCrea will claim it wasn’t done during his watch,” whispered Eph.  “Paint on the exact present time.  It’s just 11.33.”

So Captain Jack, again chuckling, and with a fresh brushful of paint, wrote the present time on the battleship’s gray side.

All in a twinkling, afterward, the submarine, her manhole closed, dropped down beneath the waves.  She was soon back at her anchorage, lying on the surface of the water as though this handy little craft had not just been engaged in perpetrating the biggest naval joke of the year!

CHAPTER XXI

THE MAN WHO DROPPED THE GLASS

Early the next morning there was, as might be imagined, a big stir of excitement in the fleet.

First of all, one of the fleet patrol launches discovered the legend lettered in white, on a gray background, on the Lizon’s side.

As soon as the matter was reported aboard, the executive officer, after ordering a side gangway lowered, and going down close to the water’s edge for a look, sent for the different watch officers of the night.

Each was emphatic in the belief that the thing did not happen during his watch.  Lieutenant McCrea was one of the most positive.

“But, Mr. McCrea,” urged the “Luzon’s” executive officer, “the time, ‘11.33 P.M.,’ has been lettered on the ship’s side with great distinctness.”

Still, that lieutenant was positive that the outrage hadn’t been perpetrated during his deck watch.  He had kept much too vigilant a watch for that.

While the questioning of the watch officers was going on the “Luzon’s” captain appeared.  He quizzed Mr. McCrea unmercifully, and that officer of the early night watch began to look and feel most uncomfortable.

“There’s but one thing to be done, first of all,” stated the “Luzon’s” commander, Captain Bigelow.  “Send a boat over to the ‘Pollard’ to ask the people there if they have any explanation to offer.”

When the “Luzon’s” launch came alongside, Mr. Farnum, expecting the visit, assured the ensign in charge that he would go to the battle ship at once to explain matters.  Mr. Farnum did go.  Captain Bigelow listened with an intensely grave face.  Lieutenant McCrea seemed to be in the depths of mortification, and his face was very red.

“There is but one thing to be done, now, Mr. Farnum,” declared Captain Bigelow, severely.  “We shall have to appear before Admiral Bentley, on his flagship, as soon as he will receive us.  You must repeat your explanation to him.”