“He and Williamson are forward in the engine-room, now, at breakfast.”

“Oh, well, Truax wouldn’t know anything about the scrape, anyway,”
returned Jack. “His name was learned and used—that’s all.”

“Are you going to try to find that place, catch the mulatto and force the
return of your money?” demanded Eph Somers.

“I’ve got to think that over,” muttered Jack, as he drew on a
spick-and-span uniform blouse. “I don’t know whether there’ll be any use
in trying to find that mulatto. I haven’t the least idea where his place
is. Even if I found it, it’s ten to one I wouldn’t find the fellow there.”

“’Farnum,’ ahoy!” roared a voice alongside, the voice coming down through
the open conning tower.

Eph ran to answer. When he returned, he announced:

“Compliments of Lieutenant Commander Mayhew, and will Mr. Benson wait on
the lieutenant commander on board the parent boat?”

“I will,” assented Jack, with a wry face, “and here’s where I have to do
some tall but truthful explaining to a man who isn’t in the least likely
to believe a word I say. I can guess what Mr. Mayhew is thinking, and is
going to keep on thinking!”