“Say,” remarked a petty officer, “you left the line fast to that raft.”

“Certainly,” nodded Eph, with cool assurance.  “That’s so you can haul the door on board, too.  Mother’d make a fuss if I got home without the door to her ice chest.”

“Shall we haul the door aboard, sir?” called the petty officer to the bridge.

“Yes,” nodded the young officer up there.

So that came aboard, too, almost in a jiffy.

Eph, with a very wide grin on his face, stood regarding the sailors who had curiously gathered around him.

“Where are you from?” asked one of the seamen.

“Just in from the salt water,” Eph assured him.

“Let the boy alone, men,” warned the officer on the bridge.  “I’ll have the guard take care of him for the night.  In the morning I’ll report the case to the captain.  But bring the boy up here for a moment.”

Two sailors thereupon escorted Eph to the bridge.  The officer in charge looked him over curiously.

“Now, young man,” began the young officer, “have you anything to tell me about yourself!”

“Yes,” volunteered Eph.

“Go ahead.”

“I’m wet.”

“Boy, you’re in the wrong place to try to get funny,” came the stern rebuke.  “I guess I know what you need.”

Just at that instant the sounds of a decided though indistinct commotion came from aft.

“Then shake,” begged Eph, offering his hand.  “I know, too, what you need.”

“What is it that you think I need?” demanded the officer, suspiciously, eyeing the boy closely.

“You need to get wise,” declared Somers, promptly.  Then, noting that the sounds from aft had caught the officer’s quick ear, the submarine boy added, with another grin: 

“By the time you’ve found out the meaning of the rumpus aft you’ll know a lot more.”

Over in one corner of the bridge a cadet midshipman had stood silent during this talk.  Turning to him, the watch officer said hurriedly: 

“I leave you in charge here.  Look after this boy.”

Then the watch officer ran quickly down from the bridge, making his way aft.

No wonder there was excitement on the after part of the gunboat.

Captain Jack Benson, after heading the “Pollard” about, had run as close as he, or rather, Hal, dared.  Hastings was at the wheel, much of the upper hull of the boat being now out of water.  Jack was forward, on the upper hull, with a line, one end of which was made fast to the platform deck.  At the other end of the line was an iron bolt for weight.

Close in under the stern of the gunboat, slightly to starboard, stole the “Pollard.”  Jack, balancing himself, made a cast of the line.  The iron bolt shot up, past the stern flagstaff, then down into the water astern again.

With the gunboat lying to, the submarine could move only with the barest headway.  The instant he saw that the line had passed around the base of the flagstaff, watchful Hal Hastings set the reverse deck control in order to keep from bumping the “Massapequa.”  Next, the submarine stole quietly over towards port, Jack, with a boathook, gathering in the line that he had thrown around the flagstaff.  This end he made fast in a trice.