night.





CHAPTER XVII: THE EVIL GENIUS OF THE WATER FRONT


It was nearly eight in the evening when the three craft were snug at
anchor.

The bay was a small one, hardly worthy of the name. The only inhabited
part of the shore thereabouts consisted of the fishing village known as
Blair’s Cove, a settlement containing some forty houses.

Hardly had all been made snug aboard the “Farnum” when Jack, standing on
the platform deck after the cadets had been transferred to the “Hudson”
for the night, saw a small boat heading out from shore.

“Is that one of the new submarine crafts?” hailed a voice from the bow of
the boat.

“Yes, sir,” Jack answered, courteously.

No more was said until the boat had come up alongside.

“I thought maybe you’d be willing to let me have a look over a craft of
this sort,” said the man in the bow. He appeared to be about forty years
of age, dark-haired and with a full, black beard. The man was plainly