knew much about machinery and marine engines in general, and Jack, with
his handy knack of sketching machinery, had made a decided hit with
poor Pollard.

"Just put us in as apprentices," begged Benson. "We'll be just the
plainest sort of helpers, fetching and lifting, and that sort of thing,
until we learn how to do more."

"Well, you see, for one thing, boys," replied Pollard, "this building
of a submarine boat is very important and confidential work. Now,
while I like the looks and talk of you both, I really don't know a thing
about either of you."

"Of course you don't," Jack Benson admitted, frankly. "And it's highly
important that you should. I know that. But you can telegraph the
principal of the school we attended in Oakport, and you can telegraph
the minister of our church, too. We'll abide by just what they say
about us. And"-- here Benson brought his little roll of bills once
more into sight--"we'll pay for the telegrams and the answers."

"That looks right," nodded Mr. Pollard, with a slight smile. "There
is just one more point. The superintendent of the yard, Mr. Partridge,
isn't having anything to do with the building of the 'Pollard.' After
the steel workers and the riveters had finished on the hull, then
the inside work, including the fitting of the machinery, was turned
over to Mr. Owen, our present foreman. Sometimes he's a crotchety
fellow, and he might take a dislike to you youngsters."

"I've got to tell you about something that I think _will_ make him
take a dislike to us," spoke up Jack Benson, candidly. Then he recounted