THE EVIL GENIUS OF THE WATER FRONT

It was nearly eight in the evening when the three craft were snug at anchor.

The bay was a small one, hardly worthy of the name.  The only inhabited part of the shore thereabouts consisted of the fishing village known as Blair’s Cove, a settlement containing some forty houses.

Hardly had all been made snug aboard the “Farnum” when Jack, standing on the platform deck after the cadets had been transferred to the “Hudson” for the night, saw a small boat heading out from shore.

“Is that one of the new submarine crafts?” hailed a voice from the bow of the boat.

“Yes, sir,” Jack answered, courteously.

No more was said until the boat had come up alongside.

“I thought maybe you’d be willing to let me have a look over a craft of this sort,” said the man in the bow.  He appeared to be about forty years of age, dark-haired and with a full, black beard.  The man was plainly though not roughly dressed; evidently he was a man of some education.

“Why, I’m mighty sorry, sir,” Captain Jack Benson replied.  “But I’m afraid it will be impossible to allow any strangers on board during this cruise.”

“Oh, I won’t steal anything from your craft,”, answered the stranger, laughingly.  “I won’t be inquisitive, either, or go poking into forbidden corners.  Who’s your captain?”

“I am, sir.”

“Then you’ll let me come aboard, just for a look, won’t you?” pleaded the stranger.

Such curiosity was natural.  The man seemed like a decent fellow.  But Jack shook his head.

“I’m sorry, sir, but I’m positive our owners wouldn’t approve of our allowing any strangers to come on board.”

“Had any trouble, so far, with strangers?” asked the man.

“I didn’t say that,” Jack replied, evasively.  “But the construction of a submarine torpedo boat is a secret.  It is a general rule with our owners that strangers shan’t be allowed on board, unless they’re very especially vouched for.  Now, I hate to appear disobliging; yet, if you’ve ever been employed by anyone else, you will appreciate the need of obeying an owner’s orders.”

“You’re under the orders of the boss of that gunboat?” asked the stranger, pointing to the “Hudson.”

“On this cruise, yes, sir,” Jack nodded.

“Maybe, if I saw the fellow in command of the gunboat, then he’d give me an order allowing me to come on board.”

“I’m very certain the lieutenant commander wouldn’t do anything of the sort,” Benson responded.

The stranger gave a comical sigh.

“Then I’m afraid I don’t see a submarine boat to-night—­that is, any more than I can see of it now.”

“That’s about the way it looks to me, also,” Jack answered, smiling.  “Yet, believe me, I hate awfully to seem discourteous about it.”

“Oh, all right,” muttered the stranger, nodding to the two boatmen, who had rowed him out alongside.