More remarkable still, as faithful readers of newspapers knew, Captain Jack Benson had associated with him, on the new torpedo boat, two other sixteen-year-old boys, by name Hal Hastings and Eph Somers.  It was also rumored, and nearly as often believed, that these three sea-bred young Americans knew as much as anyone in the United States on the special subject of submarine boat handling.

Be that all as it might, it was known to every man, woman and child at Spruce Beach that the “Benson” was due to arrive on this December day and the whole picnicking population was out to watch the incoming from the sea of the strange craft.

More than that, the United States gunboat, “Waverly,” had been for two days at anchor in the little, somewhat rockbound harbor just north of the beach.  It was to be the pleasant duty of the naval officer commanding the “Waverly” to extend official welcome to the “Benson” as soon as that craft pointed its cigar-shaped nose into the harbor.

The first boat built by the submarine company had been named, after the inventor, the “Pollard.”  The second had been named the “Farnum,” in honor of the enterprising young shipbuilder who had financed this big undertaking.  And now Spruce Beach was awaiting the arrival of the company’s third boat, the “Benson,” so-called in recognition of the hard and brilliant work done by the young skipper himself.

That this was to be something of a social and gala occasion, even on board the gunboat, was evident from the fact that on the naval vessel’s decks there now promenaded some two score of ladies and their escorts from shore, and on the hurricane deck lounged musicians from hotel orchestras on shore, these men of music having been combined to form a band, in order to make the occasion more joyous.

“Look at that shore, black with people!” cried a woman to one of the naval officers on the deck of the “Waverly.”

“There must be at least ten thousand people in that crowd,” laughed Lieutenant Featherstone.  “I wonder whether they’re more interested in the boat, or its boy officers?”

“Are Captain Benson and his comrades really as clever as some of the newspapers have made them out to be?” asked the woman doubtfully.

“Judging by letters I’ve had from friends who are officers at the Naval Academy,” replied Lieutenant Featherstone, “the young men must be very well versed, indeed, in all the arts of their peculiar profession.”

A cheer went up from the principal throng over at the beach.  Smoke had been sighted off on the eastern horizon, and this must come from the long expected craft.

From boat to boat the news passed, and so it traveled to the deck of the “Waverly,” where the sailors received it with broad smiles.  The leader of the impromptu band raised his baton, rapping for attention.  But Lieutenant Featherstone, below, caught the leader’s eye in time and held up his hand for a pause.