“They’re mighty close to it, if they’ve shanghaied Mr. Benson and Mr.
Hastings and put to sea with ’em,” rejoined Eph. Then he rang for more
speed. Down below, Williamson almost instantly responded. The “Farnum” now
fairly leaped through the water.

“Turn the light on the knockabout, now, and keep it there,” directed the
submarine boy.

There was a seven-knot breeze blowing. At the speed at which the submarine
boat was traveling the distance was soon covered.

And now the searchlight revealed two men in the standing-room of the
sloop, one of whom, a bearded man, was looking backward over his wake much
of the time.

“Can one of the marines fire a shot to stop those fellows?” asked Eph
Somers.

“In the air, do you mean, sir?” asked the midshipman. “Certainly.”

“Then I wish he’d do it.”

Bang! The discharge of the rifle sounded sharply on the night air.

“It ain’t stopping ’em any,” muttered Eph, after a few seconds had gone
by.

“Nothing would, unless fired into them,” volunteered Midshipman Terrell.

It did not take long, however, to run the submarine up alongside of the