Then, with a yell, the midshipmen leaped in on one side, Jack leading the
submarine forces on the other. Mr. Merriam’s trip and Jack’s smashing blow
with the fist brought Truax down to the floor in a heap.

“Now, cart this human rubbish out of here!” ordered Jack Benson, sternly.
“Don’t hit him—he isn’t man enough to be worthy of a blow!”

Swooping down upon the prostrate one, Hal and the midshipmen seized Sam
Truax by his arms and legs, carrying him bodily out of the engine room.

“Williamson,” commanded Captain Jack, “stop the speed.”

“In the race, sir. We—”

“Stop the speed,” repeated Benson.

“You’re the captain,” admitted Williamson. Grasping the twin levers of the
two motors he swung them backward.

“Disregard any signal to go ahead until we’ve had a chance to inspect the
motors,” added Captain Jack.

Then the submarine skipper darted out into the cabin.

Sam Truax lay sprawling on the floor. Midshipman Merriam, a most cheerful
smile on his face, sat across the fellow, while Hal and the other two
midshipmen stood by, looking on.

“Hold him please, until I can have the wretch taken care of,” requested