Suddenly, Jack Benson started.  Quickly he wiped the outer lenses of his glass, then looked again.

“See anything?” demanded Eph.

“Yes, sirree!  And the ‘Thor’ is almost a mile nearer than we are!  It’s the derelict—­not a doubt of it!”

Like a flash Jack sprang to the wheel, ringing the bell for full speed.

“Eph, hustle below!  Tell Hal we’ve sighted the derelict.  Tell him to hump the engines.  Tell him I don’t care how much we overheat the machinery so that we don’t blow the craft up.  Jump!”

Eph collided with Jacob Farnum, who had started up from below, but he brushed the shipbuilder aside, rushing below as though death pursued him.

CHAPTER XVI

Jack gives the order, “Fire!”

The naval officer, too, had made out a bobbing something on the sea, ahead, over at port, which he took to be the long sought derelict.

The lieutenant could not say anything, but, with glass still at his eyes, he leaned back against the conning tower, drawing in his breath sharply.

“Want me to take the wheel?” called out Eph, as he reached deck again.

“Yes.  I want to keep the glass to my eyes.”

Just one look did Benson take at the supposed derelict.  Then he swung his gaze around upon the “Thor.”

“They’ve seen our speed-burst,” cried the young submarine skipper.  “I don’t believe they had spotted the derelict, but now they see us shooting ahead, to cross their course, and that has told them the secret.  Yes!  There they go ahead, and pointing straight.  They’ve caught up the old wreck—­through our glasses!”

It was provoking, but the rival boat, besides being nearer at the start, had also started forward at greater speed.

“This is the ‘Thor’s’ trick,” thought Lieutenant Danvers to himself.  “Too bad, too.  I’d like to have seen the boys take it.”

Jacob Farnum’s private view, not expressed, agreed with the naval officer’s.

But Jack Benson?  He simply couldn’t admit any victory for the rival—­not until it was actually won.

“Swing a half-point off port bow, Eph—­steady, now!” breathed the young skipper, intensely.

Down below, Hal Hastings was performing as near to wonders as was possible with a gasoline engine.  Jacob Farnum stood just inside the conning tower, prepared to rush below with any other orders.

“Yes, it’s the derelict!” shouted Benson, presently.  “I can make out the stumps of two masts now.  We’ll be there in a few minutes.”

“We’ll be lucky if we don’t get there too late,” grumbled Somers.  “Shall I steer direct for the old wreck, or take the course from you?”

“Better take it from me for a time,” Benson replied.  “My glass will be more dependable than your naked eye.”

The “Thor,” also, was heading straight for the derelict.  So far, the Rhinds boat was still nearer.