cable fast. Then the stern cable was made fast, with more line, to another
buoy.

“A neat hitch, Mr. Benson,” came a voice from the bridge of the “Hudson,”
which lay a short distance away. Jack, looking up, saw Lieutenant
Commander Mayhew leaning over the bridge rail.

“Thank you, sir,” Jack acknowledged, saluting the naval officer.

The parent vessel and her two submarine charges now lay at anchor in the
harbor at Port Clovis, one of the towns down the coast from Dunhaven. This
mooring overnight was to be repeated each day until Annapolis should be
reached.

Within fifteen minutes the craft were surrounded by small boats from
shore. Some of these contained merchandise that it was hoped sailors would
buy. Other boats “ran” for hotels, restaurants, drinking places, amusement
halls, and all the varied places on shore that hope to fatten on Jack
Tar’s money.

“I’d like to go ashore, sir,” announced Sam Truax, approaching Captain
Jack.

“When?”

“Now.”

“For how long?”

“Until ten o’clock to-night.”