"Hasn't Mr. Farnum a _man_ he can send out!"

"No one who knows the harbor better than I do, sir."

"Who are you? What are you?"

"Jack Benson, sir. Captain of the Pollard submarine boats."

"Why didn't you tell me that before!" The question came sharply,
almost raspingly.

"Beg your pardon, sir, but you didn't ask me," Jack replied.

"Come up here, Benson," ordered the lieutenant commander, in a loud
voice intended to drown out the subdued titter of some of the sailors
forward.

Jack ascended to the bridge, to find himself facing a six-footer in his
early thirties. There was a younger officer at the far end of the
bridge.

"Does Mr. Farnum consider you capable of showing us the way into the
harbor!" demanded the commanding officer of the "Hudson."

"I think so, sir. He trusts me with his own boats."

"Then you are--"

"Benson, Mr. Farnum's captain of the submarine boats."