"And how does the little town like the idea!" demanded Williamson,
beginning to smile as his color slowly returned.

"Why, the people can't expect to have very much to say," Jack replied.
"We have a permit to store the explosive, and it's at the request of the
United States Government. You're not afraid to be near so much rockety
stuff are you?"

Williamson gazed at the young skipper reproachfully.

"Now, what have I ever done, Captain, or what have I failed to do, that
should make you think me only forty per cent. good on nerve? Though
I'll admit that my appetite for smoking won't be good when I'm near this
shed. How long is the stuff going to stay here? That is, if some idiot
doesn't play with matches in that shed."

"I expect it will about all be used, after the Navy officer gets on the
scene, and drills us in using torpedoes," Captain Benson answered. "It
isn't intended to keep that sort of stuff stored here all the time."

"Oh! Then I reckon I won't toss my job into the harbor," grinned the
machinist. "How soon are you going to want me?"

"You can go aboard the 'Hastings' at once," replied Skipper Jack. "It
won't do any harm to have the machinery of the new boat looked over with
a most critical eye."

"Any gun-cotton, rack-a-rock wool or dynamite silk stored on board the
new craft?" inquired Williamson, with a look of mock anxiety.