instructions.”

“Will you send them quickly, sir?” begged Eph.

“I’ll have men on board of you by the time that your engines are running,”
promised the lieutenant commander.

“Engines?” That word came as a fortunate reminder to the submarine boy. He
darted below, almost yanking Williamson from his berth, nearly pulling the
machinist into his clothes. By the time that Williamson was really wide
awake he found himself standing by the motors forward.

Then young Somers darted onto deck again, just in time to see the boat
coming alongside. It brought two more marines, one of them a corporal.
There were also two sailors. A cadet midshipman commanded them.

“Mr. Somers,” reported the cadet midshipman, “I am not intended to
displace you from the command of this boat. I am here only with definite
instructions in case you succeed in overhauling that white sloop.”

“What—” began Eph. Then he paused, with a half-grin. “Really,” he added,
“I ought to know better than to quiz you about your instructions from your
superior officer.”

“Yes, sir,” assented the midshipman, simply.

Eph turned on the current to the search-light, swinging the ray about the
bay. Then, too impatient to sit in the conning tower, the submarine boy
took his place by the deck wheel.