"Where are you going, Jake?" called the inventor, as his partner started
aft.

"To the stateroom, to get a little nap," replied the shipbuilder. "We're
not by any means due at Spruce Beach yet."

"Jake Farnum is surely not a coward," chuckled Mr. Pollard, as the
stateroom door closed. "Nor is he over anxious about any detail in our
little game, or he couldn't go to sleep at this important time. I know
I couldn't get a wink of sleep if I turned in now. I've simply got to
sit up, wide awake, until I see the finish of your bold stroke, Jack
Benson."

Captain Jack laughed easily, then glanced at his watch to note the lapse
of time since he had made his last calculation of their whereabouts. It
is one thing to be in the open air, navigating a vessel, but it is quite
another affair to be fifty-odd feet below the surface, calculating all
by the distance covered and the course steered.

"Any deviation in the course, Eph?" Captain Jack called up into the
conning tower.

"Not by as much as a hair's breadth," retorted young Somers, almost
gruffly, for with him, to depart from a given course, was well nigh
equal to a capital crime.

Jack touched a button in the side of the table. Obeying the summons,
quiet Hal Hastings thrust his head out into the cabin.