“Going out with us, sir?” inquired Captain Jack Benson, as Hal took his
place at a pair of oars.

“Yes,” nodded the owner of the yard, dropping into a seat at the stern of
the boat, after which Benson pushed off at the bow.

Down on the seashore, on this day just past the middle of October, the air
was keen and brisk. There had been frost for several nights past.
Sleighing might be looked for in another month.

“Cable’s gone from this buoy,” declared Captain Jack, as Hal rowed close.
“Over to the other one, old fellow.”

Here, too, the cable was missing. Evidently the “Farnum” had made a clean
get-away. If there had been any accident, it must have taken place after
the new submarine boat had slipped away from her moorings.

“Humph!” grunted Jack, scanning the sea. “No sign of the boat anywhere.
Eph may be anywhere within twenty miles of here.”

“Or within twenty feet, either,” grinned Hal, looking down into the waters
that were lead-colored under the dull autumn sky.

“What are we going to do, Captain?” inquired Jacob Farnum. “There are
Grant Andrews and three of his machinists coming down to the water.”

“I reckon, sir, we’d better put them aboard the ’Pollard’ first, sir,”
Benson suggested.

Mr. Farnum nodding, the boat was rowed in to the shore and Andrews and his