It was after midnight when the "Benson," first in, went to her moorings.
Grant Andrews and two of his men came on board, to stand guard over the
little sea-terror.

It was after one in the morning when the Seawold craft strayed into port.
A little later came the "Chelsea" and the remaining submarine rivals,
for the gunboat had stood by the slower ones in case aid of any sort was
needed.

As the "Zelda" came to her moorings in the inky blackness John C. Rhinds
stepped out upon her platform deck. Rhinds, after his disappointment,
looked like a very old man. He paced back and forth, moodily, until his
captain and crew had gone below. Then Rhinds turned, with a half snarl,
when Fred Radwin, after lighting a cigar, stepped outside.

"Feeling glum?" asked Radwin, stupidly, as he gazed at his chief.

"A fool question that!" snapped the older man.

"It is, rather," admitted the younger man.

"Radwin, you're an idiot!"

"Thank you!"

"You told me you had those three Pollard boys taken care of--'canned'
was the word you used. Yet, the first thing we saw, when we me out on
the harbor, was those same boys, looking their finest. And they went
into today's affair and beat us. We've lost the speed and endurance