Back by the conning tower stood Messrs. Farnum and Pollard.  Eph was below, until otherwise needed, to render Hal any necessary help in the engine room.

“There goes the Rhinds boats” called Mr Farnum, as one of the other submarines left her moorings, making for sea in the wake of the “Chelsea,” which gunboat was to act as the starter’s boat for that day.

“What’s the name of that particular Rhinds boat?” asked Jack.

“The ’Zelda’,” replied Lieutenant Danvers.

“Nice, lady-like name for a fighting boat,” mocked Jack.

“You don’t seem to like the Rhinds people,” hinted the naval officer.

“I don’t,” Jack admitted, bluntly.

“Well, I suppose it isn’t human nature to be fond of our rivals,” assented the naval officer, slowly.

“I’ve other reasons, of my own, for disliking Rhinds,” muttered the submarine boy.

“He hasn’t what you could call a wholesome face,” smiled Danvers.  “In fact, I think Mr. Rhinds must be a self-made man, made very badly.  I can’t quite think that he has anything of the human face divine.”

Jack laughed, but bitterly.

“The ‘Zelda’ is the boat we have to beat today,” he added.

“I wonder if you’ll do it?” muttered Lieutenant Danvers, gazing suddenly over at the “Zelda,” now well ahead and cutting a white path of foam.  “Great guns, look at her go!”

Jack did glance up and ahead.  He felt a sinking at heart, for the moment.  For the “Zelda” was showing a burst of speed that was calculated to make any rival thoughtful.

“Mr. Farnum,” Jack called back, “will you pass the word for Hal to come on deck?”

Young Hastings was up in a moment!

“They’re forcing that boat,” muttered Hal, gazing after the “Zelda” uneasily.  “I can overtake her, though, Jack, if you say the word.”

“Do you think so?” asked Lieutenant Danvers, dubiously.

“Don’t try it, Hal,” Jack advised, quietly.  “Save all overheated pistons and other parts for the final test.”

The “Zelda” was now well ahead of the “Chelsea,” which was putting out at cruising speed only.

Too-oot! toot! toot! sounded sharply, hoarsely, from the deep throat of the “Chelsea’s” whistle.

“Good enough,” muttered Lieutenant Danvers.  “They’ve ordered the Rhinds scooter to slow clown and fall into line behind the gunboat.”

“I’m sorry,” muttered Hal.

“Why?” asked the naval lieutenant.

“I wish they had let old Rhinds go ahead and get all his machinery red-hot at the outset.”

Then, slowly shaking his head, Hal Hastings went back to his post.

“Do you really think we can beat that scooter to-day, Hal?” inquired the shipbuilder, anxiously.

“Yes, sir.”

“What makes you so certain, lad?”

“Why, we’ll beat her just because we’ve got to do it, sir,” Hastings replied, then hurried below.