"Benson is my name."

"This letter is addressed to Mr. Farnum," went on the stranger, "but
Mr. Pollard told me I could hand it to you."

Captain Jack took the letter from the unsealed envelope.

"My dear Farnum," ran the enclosure, "since you're short a good machinist
for the engine room of the 'Farnum,' the bearer, Samuel Truax, seems to
me to be just the man you want. I've examined him, and he understands
the sort of machinery we use. Better give him a chance." The note was
signed in David Pollard's well-known, scrawly handwriting.

"I'm sorry you can't see Mr. Farnum tonight," said Benson, pleasantly.
"He'll be here early in the morning, though."

"When do you sail?" asked Truax, quickly.

"That you would have to ask Mr. Farnum, too," smiled Jack.

"But, see here, Mr. Pollard engaged me to work aboard one of your
submarines."

"It looks that way, doesn't it?" laughed the young skipper.

"And you're the captain?"

"Yes; but I can't undertake to handle Mr. Farnum's business for him."