“Yes, sir.”

“That’s queer,” reflected Eph.  “It wouldn’t be like them to go sailing at this time of the night, and without notifying me, either.  But, then, I didn’t see anything of ’em aboard that sloop, either.”

Eph was silent for a few moments, thinking.  Then, suddenly, he leaped up in the air, coming down flat-footed.

“Crackey!” ejaculated Eph Somers.

For a moment or two his face was a study in bewilderment.

“Mighty strange things have been happening all through this cruise,” Eph muttered, half-aloud.  “Especially happening to Jack!  Now, the two of them go aboard that sloop, and immediately after the boat puts out to sea in the dead of night.  What if Jack and Hal have been shanghaied on that infernal sloop?”

Cold chills began to chase each other up and down the spine of Eph Somers.  He was not, ordinarily, an imaginative youth, but just now the gruesome thought that had entered his mind persisted there.

He began to pace the platform deck in deep agitation.

“Anything wrong, sir?” questioned the marine sentry, halting and throwing his rifle over to port arms.

“That’s just what I’d give a million dollars and ten cents to know!” exploded Eph.

“Gunboat, ahoy!” he shouted, some twenty seconds later.

“‘Farnum,’ ahoy!”

“I half believe, sir,” Eph rattled on, “that my two comrades, Mr. Benson and Mr. Hastings have been tricked, in some way, and carried out to sea on that knockabout.  They’d have been back from shore by this time, if nothing had happened.”

“What do you want to do, Mr. Somers?”

“Want to do, sir?” retorted Eph.  “I know what I’m going to do.  I’m going to slip moorings and chase after that knockabout.  What I wish to know from you, sir, is whether you’ll send another marine or two on board, so that I can back up my demand to find my friends?”

“I’ll have to ask the lieutenant commander about that, Mr. Somers.”

“Can you do it, now, sir?” asked Eph, energetically.

“Instantly.  I’ll let you know the decision as soon as it’s made.”

Eph, hanging at the rail in the silence that followed, had no notion of whether his request had been a correct one.  All he knew was that his suspicions had surged to the surface, and were threatening to boil over.  It was a huge relief to the boy when Mr. Mayhew’s voice sounded from the rail of the gunboat.  Somers swiftly answered all questions.

“Your craft and crew are in a measure under our protection and orders,” decided Mr. Mayhew.  “I think we may properly extend you some help.  I will send some men to you, and a cadet midshipman who will have my instructions.”

“Will you send them quickly, sir?” begged Eph.

“I’ll have men on board of you by the time that your engines are running,” promised the lieutenant commander.

“Engines?” That word came as a fortunate reminder to the submarine boy.  He darted below, almost yanking Williamson from his berth, nearly pulling the machinist into his clothes.  By the time that Williamson was really wide awake he found himself standing by the motors forward.