transporting company.

Where, then, was the "Benson?"

It was not in the least like young Captain Jack Benson to be behind time
when he had an appointment to get anywhere. Nor did that very youthful
companion expect to arrive late on this day of days.

Some miles away from Spruce Beach the submarine boat, as shown by her
submersion gauge, was running along at six miles an hour some fifty-two
feet under the surface of the ocean.

Young Eph Somers, auburn-haired and ofttimes impulsive, now looked as
sober as a judge as he sat perched up in the conning tower, beyond which,
at that depth, he could not see a thing. However, a shaded incandescent
light dropped its rays over the surface of the compass by the aid of
which Eph was steering with mathematical exactness.

Out in the engine room stood Hal Hastings, closely watching every
movement of even as trusted and capable a man as Williamson, one of the
machinists from the Farnum shipyards.

At the cabin table sat Captain Jack Benson himself, his head bent low
as he scanned a chart. His right hand held a pair of nickeled dividers.
Near his left lay a scale rule. A paper pad, half covered with figures,
also lay within reach.

On the opposite side of the table sat Jacob Farnum, owner of the Farnum
shipyard and president of the Pollard Submarine Boat Company. Beside
Mr. Farnum sat David Pollard, the inventor.