“And, afterwards?” persisted Hal.

“I’m going to try to win Mr. Mayhew’s good opinion, and that of every
other naval officer or cadet I may happen to meet.”

“Why the cadets, particularly?” asked Eph Somers.

“Because, for one business reason, the cadets are going to be the naval
officers of to-morrow, and the Pollard Submarine Boat Company hopes to be
building craft for the Navy for a good many years to come.”

“Good enough!” nodded Hal, while Eph dodged away to get that breakfast
ready.

Sam Truax lounged back in the engine room, smoking a short pipe. With him
stuck Williamson, for Eph had privately instructed the machinist from the
Farnum yard not to leave the stranger alone in the engine room.

“Why don’t you go up on deck and get a few whiffs of fresh air?” asked
Truax.

“Oh, I’m comfortable down here,” grunted the machinist, who was stretched
out on one of the leather-cushioned seats that ran along the side of the
engine room.

“I should think you’d want to get out of here once in a while, though,”
returned Truax.

“Why?” asked the machinist. “Anything you want to be left alone here for?”