Classic Audiobook Collection - The Submarine Boys and the Smugglers by Victor G. Durham ~ Full Audiobook [adventure]

Episode Date: May 4, 2026

The Submarine Boys and the Smugglers by Victor G. Durham audiobook. Genre: adventure In The Submarine Boys and the Smugglers, Victor G. Durham sends his young naval heroes into one of their most dangerous assignments yet. Commander Jack Benson and his loyal companions, Hal Hastings and Eph Somers, are placed aboard a newly commissioned submarine and ordered to investigate a bold smuggling operation along the New Jersey coast, where customs fraud is draining the government of enormous sums. What begins as a covert patrol quickly turns into a tense game of pursuit as the boys cross paths with suspicious captains, secretive waterfront characters, and enemies who know how to use the sea for cover. At the same time, the mission is complicated by a sudden maritime disaster involving the steamship Cynthia, forcing Jack and his crew to balance their duty to capture criminals with an urgent race to save innocent lives. Blending naval action, mystery, and early submarine adventure, the novel follows the boys through treacherous waters where courage, discipline, and quick thinking matter as much as machinery. Durham builds the story around suspense, comradeship, and patriotic service, making this a brisk, high stakes tale of youthful heroism on and beneath the ocean. For ad-free listening try our premium subscription Chapters (Approximate) (00:00:00) Chapter 01 (00:31:11) Chapter 02 (01:00:04) Chapter 03 (01:09:51) Chapter 04 (01:22:07) Chapter 05 (01:35:45) Chapter 06 (01:49:53) Chapter 07 (02:02:27) Chapter 08 (02:17:35) Chapter 09 (02:32:24) Chapter 10 (02:45:26) Chapter 11 (02:57:46) Chapter 12 (03:08:08) Chapter 13 (03:18:30) Chapter 14 (03:29:27) Chapter 15 (03:46:00) Chapter 17 (03:59:20) Chapter 18 (04:08:24) Chapter 19 (04:18:21) Chapter 20 (04:26:00) Chapter 21 (04:46:48) Chapter 22 (04:53:43) Chapter 23 (05:03:10) Chapter 24 Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

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Chapter 1, assigned to strange sea duty. Old Jerry, Civil War Boson and Naval Veteran, had been dead for six weeks. Thomas Crum, the new messenger, a man of about 30 years of age, did not know the very young man who presented himself for attention in the corridor, leading to the outer offices of the Secretary of the Navy. My man kindly informed the chief clerk to the sergeant, secretary that Mr. Benson is here, awaiting his pleasure and that of the secretary, said the newcomer, a neatly dressed, very erect and athletic-looking young man of 18,

or possibly just past that mark in age. Do you think the secretary will see you today, grinned Crum? I'm sure I don't know, replied Jack Benson. I'm hardly thinking he will, my laddie. Buck, chuckled the messenger. No familiarity, if you please. Rejoined the caller, coolly and with no sign of displeasure in his face. Are you going to take my name in at once?

Some apprentice seaman maybe thought crumb shrewdly, looking the youth over in detail. You can't tell these apprentice seamen from gentlemen when they get on land with their shore money in their pockets. Are you going to take my name in? Benson insisted. Maybe you have a card about you, suggested the messenger, grinning more broadly. Oh, is that what you're waiting for? inquired Jack unruffled. I believe you're right about that, my man. From an inner pocket Benson drew forth a Morocco card case, the corners of which were ornamented

with silver. From the case, he drew forth an engraved visiting card, which he took forth. tendered that messenger. Crum glanced at it. All he saw was John Benson, USN. And this might mean, after all, that the caller was merely an apprentice or at most a petty officer.

But the card was the kind carried by commissioned officers in the United States Navy. Maybe you're a midshipman from Annapolis suggested Crum glancing up from the card. I might be, true. Not a jack. As a matter of fact, I am an acting lieutenant junior grade. All the banter fled at once from the messenger's face and tone.

He straightened up, making an awkward attempt at a salute. I beg your pardon, sir, but you looked so young, murmured the messenger apologetically. It will take some years to outgrow that defect, Benson replied, with a slight smile, but what are you going to do with that card, my man? Pardon me, sir. I'm taking it in at once, replied the messenger, with another clumsy salute. He vanished through the nearest door.

Jack did not take one of the chairs, for he hardly expected to be kept waiting long. It was a beautiful spring morning, but spring in Washington is as warm as summer in many other places. So Benson had worn a strong. raw hat with his neat gray sack suit. His russet shoes were immaculate in their gloss. From top to toe, young Benson's attire was faultless. Within a space of 90 seconds, the messenger returned, walking briskly. The chief clerk desires you to report to him at

once, sir, said Crumb respectfully. Shall I take you in, sir? I'm capable of moving under my own steam. Thank you, messenger. Jack laughed. The messenger held the door open for him, closing it after the young lieutenant had passed through. Good morning, sir. Was Jack's greeting as he stepped up to Mr. Packard's desk? Ah, good morning, Mr. Benson, replied the chief clerk, rising and offering his hand. I'll see if the secretary is disengaged. Will you be seated? Benson, however, remained on his feet while the chief clerk hastened through another door. He was back almost at once. The secretary is disengaged, and we'll see you now, Mr. Benson.

Thank you, sir. As Benson entered the inner office, he saw the great man of the Navy bent over his desk, signing paper after paper. So the young officer did not advance, but stood by the door, had an hand. hand without making a sound. At last, the secretary looked up. Ah, good morning, Mr. Benson. Good morning, sir. As the secretary arose, extending his hand to the submarine boy, Benson stepped briskly forward. Have a seat, Mr. Benson, continued Mr. Sanders, the secretary. Jack appropriated the chair, pointed out to him. He sat very erect, looking straight into the secretary. Harry's face. Let me see. Where are you at present? inquired the secretary.

Briefly, the temptation came to Benson to reply that he believed he was in the United States Navy Department at Washington. The secretary, however, was not one to be treated with levity, so the young officer answered. Mr. Hastings, Mr. Summers, and myself have been stationed at the Norfolk Navy Yard, sir, for the last month, where we have been awaiting orders. From there we came to Washington today, sir, and are stopping at the Arlington. You've been on waiting orders, repeated the secretary, who was too important an official to be expected to know the whereabouts

and performances of all the officers in the Navy. Let me see. rummaging among some papers, Mr. Sanders finally drew forth a sheet and glanced at it. We have not been doing much with our submarine boats of late, Mr. Benson. Let me see. Your last craft was the Sudbury, sir. Jack informed him. Quite right, nodded the secretary. That boat is now laid up in reserve.

I have decided to order yourself and your two associates, to the grant. Have you ever seen the craft? No, sir, but she's a Farnham Pollard boat, I believe. And in that case, I shall expect to feel at home a board of her at once. The grant is, let me see, consulting another paper, the secretary continued. The grant is now on her way to Norfolk in tow, after having been tested. She should arrive at Norfolk this afternoon, or sometime during tonight. Yes, sir, she was expected when we left. Very well, Mr. Benson.

That is your billet. You will command the grant until further orders. Your orders and those from Mr. Hastings and Mr. Summers will be signed and turned over to you before you leave. Very well, sir. Are there any special instructions for me in connection with the new command? Very important special instructions, Mr. Benson. In fact, you are to employ the grant on a business that is not connected with

naval service. A gleam of unusual interest shot into the boy's eyes. He did not, however, speak, but waited for the secretary to do so. At the request of another member of the cabinet, and by command of the president continued, Mr. Sanders, you are now to convert the grant without informing any one of the fact into a revenue cutter. Jack Benson's face must have dropped more than he was aware, for the secretary laughed lightly. You do not fancy that kind of appointment, Mr. Benson. I'm wholly at your order, sir.

But you don't like the appointment. It isn't my place, sir, to like or dislike any order that comes to me from the proper source, sir. You don't like the idea, Mr. Benson, the Secretary of the Navy continued. Yet if I am any judge whatever of your makeup and temperament, you will soon like this new work better than any assignment I could offer you. Mr. Benson, your work is to be of such a very special nature, that you are not to inform anyone outside of your two junior officers what the mission of the grant is. That begins to look much more interesting already, sir, Jack replied now, smiling.

Your published orders will call only for a cruise and practice work with the crew and the trying out of the craft. Mr. Sanders went on. Your actual, though secret orders, I will give you now. Jack Benson waited, gazing straight into the secretary's eyes. In other words, Lieutenant, said Mr. Sanders. we want you to catch a crowd of smugglers. We don't know what vessel or vessels are engaged in the work. In fact, we have no definite information of any kind,

except that several parcels of valuable goods, smuggled, have been sent to New York from certain coast towns in New Jersey. This would point to the fact that the goods come into the United States by way of the New Jersey coast. In general terms, Lieutenant, your task, is to scour as much of the Jersey coast as is necessary, until you find the smugglers, if possible. It is a difficult task, I admit,

and that is why I have picked you for it. You are one of the most enthusiastic, ingenious, and tireless young men in the Navy, and I am certain that you will succeed, if anyone can. As Mr. Sanders paused, Jack responded quietly. Thank you, sir.

On this sheet, you will find the names of New Jersey Express offices from which parcels of smuggled goods have been shipped to New York City, continued the secretary. Glanced over it now. Jack made a hasty, yet thorough inspection of the list. What do you conclude? asked the secretary. I note that the smuggled items include high-priced silks and satins, laces of a kind that are usually made in France, and in some instances, gems,

though precious stones do not seem to make up the greater part of the values of the goods. I should imagine that the smuggled articles all come from France, sir. Though that may prove to be a hasty conclusion. The smuggled articles are believed to come largely from France, nodded the secretary. But why should the parcels be shipped from so many different points in New Jersey? Why, I should suppose, sir, in order to throw possible suspicion off the track, replied Benson. If all the parcels came from the same office, the express agent might grow suspicious and report his suspicions. Right again, nodded the Secretary of the Navy.

The first information did in fact come through. express company sources. These different towns, Benson continued, as he again glanced along the list, extend along the length of that portion of New Jersey, which borders on the Atlantic Ocean. And you will also note, continued, Secretary Sanders,

that the shipments occur on almost every date in the month. It looks very much as though more than one vessel were being employed in bringing in the goods. Or else, sir, Lieutenant Jack Benson suggested very respectfully, the receivers of the smuggled goods have excellent means for taking care of them, and so avoid making large shipments. A very good answer, cried the secretary delightedly. Mr. Benson, whatever you do not grasp of the situation now, I am certain you will grasp once you are on the scene and have put your keen mind at work. But what I think you want more particularly of me, sir, the youth ventured with a smile, is to grasp the smugglers themselves.

That you do not want to pay any attention to the people in New York who receive these smuggle goods is quite apparent from the fact that you already have here the names and addresses of the parties in New York to whom the express parcels have been delivered. May I ask a question, sir? Yes, Mr. Benson. Has any move been made yet against these New York parties who are the final receivers of the smuggled goods? No action has been taken so far, replied Secretary Sanders.

You see, Mr. Benson, that news would travel swiftly and would put the real smugglers on their guard at once. Now, what the government wishes to do is to catch the parties who are doing the actual smuggling. If we catch only the final receivers of the goods, the real smugglers will be troubled only to find new customers. I quite understand that, sir. Then what you make of the riddle, Mr. Benson? First of all, sir, I would like to know something as to my general instructions.

If you catch the smuggling craft and catch it red-handed, then you will seize that craft at once and treat it as a prize in forming this department at once of your success. But Lieutenant Benson, you must not make any premature moves. You must not seize a craft suspected of smuggling. You must have proof positive. Then I am not to search any craft on suspicion, Jack asked quickly. Obviously not, replied the secretary, for then the real object of your presence along the coast of New Jersey would be known far and wide in shipping circles. No, this is a matter, Lieutenant, in which you must proceed with the utmost caution. If you fail in using discretion, then your blunders will reflect on the Navy Department. It would be easy enough to put a revenue cutter on the job, but a revenue cutter, we are convinced,

would not serve for the detection of such clever rascals as the government believes those to be with whom we contend. Before I leave Washington, Benson suggested, I must go to the proper department and get a list of all coastwise vessels that are likely to touch at the New Jersey coast. Yes, such a list may be of great help. Now, here are some further instructions that will perhaps make the matter clearer, continued Mr. Sanders, handing over a bulky document. Take this over by that window and read it through while I'm attending to some routine matters here on my desk. For 20 minutes, Jack Benson was thus engaged. The further he read into

this document of instruction, the more he began to like the idea of his new assignment to duty. "'Hew, I shall find that I have a clever lot of rascals to battle against,' murmured the youth. The government already knows much about this smuggling enterprise, and yet is forced to admit that it doesn't know enough to place a heavy hand on the real smugglers. The more I look this over, the more I find it to my liking. Do you comprehend your task, Lieutenant Benson? queried Secretary Sanders, turning around at last. I think I do, sir.

As much as I am likely to until I arrive on the actual scene, Benson answered. Can you catch the smugglers? I don't like to admit, sir, that there is anything in the line of duty which I can't do, Lieutenant Jack answered, setting his jaws squarely. A very good answer, Mr. Benson. You tend to confirm the hope that I have of you in this matter. I shall succeed, sir, promised the submarine boy, if there is any possible way in which I can land success. Unless you have some further questions to ask me, remark the secretary, you now have your full orders in the matter. Very good, sir, replied the young officer.

reaching for his hat. I will procure the list of coastwise trading vessels. Then unless you direct me otherwise, sir, I will go to the Arlington to lunch with my brother officers and then take an early afternoon train for Norfolk. Do so, nodded the secretary. A telegram from this department will instruct the commandant of the yard at Norfolk to turn over to you with a grant

and to furnish you with such draft of men as you will need for the craft. You will put to sea as soon as ready, and from that moment you will act on your own discretion. Of course, reporting to this department frequently. Very good, sir. I wish you success, Mr. Benson, said the Secretary of the Navy, once more extending his right hand.

Once outside of the state, war, and Navy building, Jack Benson decided on using a cab, not for the purpose of avoiding fatigue, but as a means of making quick time. Forty minutes later, Lieutenant Jack, his list of coastwise vessels, among his other papers, strode into the lobby of the Hotel Arlington.

"'Ahoi there, mate!' called the cheerful voice, acting ensign, Summers. He of the bright red hair and nearly perpetual grin rushed forward to meet him, while acting ensign Hal Hastings, came forward at a slower and more dignified pace. Got our orders? F. inquired eagerly. Yes, Jack nodded. What are they? Mr. Summers, responds to Jack,

putting on an immense amount of dignity for the moment. The pleasure of your superior officers will be communicated to you when the moment of need arrives. Oh, lollipop! gasped the irrepressible F, straightening up stiffly and executing a very formal salute. Very good, sir, which is to say, smiled Lieutenant Jack as Hal joined in, that we are ordered to a tryout and practice crews on the grant. How soon do we report?

Immediately. I had hoped it would be sooner than that, retorted F., with mock gravity. I'm in a hurry to get away from Washington. This is the third time I have been at the National Capitol, and I haven't yet found time to do half a day of sightseeing. Where do we take the grant, asked to howl? We board her at Norfolk and proceed north along the coast, possibly as far as New England, Jack answered, in low tones.

For many strangers, we're passing them every minute in the lobby. Now, let's have luncheon at once. Our train leaves in an hour from now. That I shall have my wish, cried F, with more mock fervor. I had hoped to escape from Washington, ere some sociable idiot tried to take me around and show me something of the city. If you want to see Washington, Jack retorted, you have several periods of leave during the year.

You can use up one of those furloughs in seeing Washington. The lobby being a long one, the three young acting naval officers had some distance to walk in order to reach the dining room. On their way, they had occasion to pass three rather overdressed young men of 20 years or so, whose general appearance suggested that they were members of the theatrical profession. As Jack Hal and F passed, with that combination of erect carriage, an easy one. walk that one learns on the quarter-deck. They were surveyed rather curiously. By the other trio, who's the dude kid with the sunburst hair inquired one of the strangers of his friends? There was a low laugh from the others. F. who had heard, and who instantly realized that his

own red hair had been alluded to, flushed in a way that made his cheeks match his hair. Did you see that sunrise, Cal, continued the unknown tormentor? Until the insults were made more personal and pointed, F resolved not to pay heed, though the word sunrise referred to his all-too-plane flushing of the face. My, but he's a shining youth, went on the tormentor jeeringly. Shines from head to foot. Look at those glossy tan shoes. They make my eyes ache.

Really, I must do something to them. Don't get too frisky, Wally, advised the stranger who had been addressed as Cal. Of course I won't, promised Wally. All I want to do is take some of the edge off the shiny shoes. Sauntering along at a swifter pace than F. Summers was using, the youth designated as Wally ranged alongside, then with pretended awkwardness, stepped squarely on the toe of F's right shoe.

As Wally withdrew his foot, he succeeded in his efforts to ruin the polish. That was too much. Smack! F. Summers' right fist shot straight out, landing on the stranger's face. Wally went down with a good deal of haste and sat on the hard floor of the lobby, looking at trifle dazed.

The next time you remarked anyone with sunburst hair, hinted F, his face now relaxing into a grin, just bear in mind, Mr. Fresh, that sunburst hair often carries a sunstroke temper with it. You're it. Saying which F turned as though to pass on into the dining room, He was halted, however, by Wally, who sprang to his feet. You wait till I hit you, glared Wally. It won't take you long, will it? asked F curiously.

Jack and Hal, smiling, had halted, standing on one side. Wally's companions rushed up, but F. did not take the trouble, to turn to look at them. You young bully, roared Wally, clenching his fist, and waving it before the face of F. Summers. who did not seem greatly disturbed thereby, how dare you hit me? I'm afraid I haven't time to go into that, F-drault.

If you don't know why I hit you, then I have no time to discuss the matter with you. I'm on the track of a quick lunch just at present. Will you oblige me, either by punching me as you promised, or else stepping out of my way? By this time, fully 40 people had crowded a bunch of about. One of the hotel clerks and three porters edged through the throng.

Are you here again? demanded the clerk, eyeing Wally who now looked uncomfortable. You were chased out of here yesterday, told not to come back. We don't want you and your friends hanging around here. This hotel is conducted for the comfort of its guests and their friends. We're waiting to see Mr. Dravens, explained Wally. naming a well-known theatrical man. Mr. Dravens doesn't want to see you. And sent polite word to that effect when you called yesterday. The clerk went on.

Now I shall have to ask you to leave. You and your friends. Start. But this young bully hit me, complained Wally. And he must apologize before I'll leave. The clerk who had already recognized Lieutenant Benson and his friends made haste to reply. If this young man hit you, he did, Wally asserted with a choke in his voice,

then he certainly had excellent reasons, the clerk replied. Now oblige us by leaving this hotel. Not until, insisted Wally, at a nod from the clerk, one of the strong-armed porters seized the youth, steering him rapidly to one of the entrances. Wally's two companions did not lose any time but how. hurried, unaided for another exit. Too bad, murmured F. I think that young man really had something on his mind that he wanted to deliver to me. Don't you believe it, Jack laughed quietly.

He wouldn't have struck you without a certain guarantee that you wouldn't do anything to him in return. Did I lose my temper? asked F. hankiously. Yes, but not until you were justified in losing it, Benson answered. Now let us get at a table before someone else comes along and discovers that it's a sunny day. Queer how people notice red hair, murmured F, when they never paid the least attention to brown hair like yours. It isn't all in your hair, F, teased Hal in an undertone, is something about your face that makes people want to laugh. Is that really so? Summers demanded. I owe you one for that, and I shall take mighty good care to pay my bill at the earliest possible opportunity. Stop your quarreling, order, Jack, and make up your minds what you're going to say to the waiter.

Though he dared not enter the hotel again, Mr. Wally was standing on the curbing, just below the hotel, when the three young naval officers came out to board a car for the railway station. "'There's my man now,' muttered Wally vindictively. He was obliged to talk to himself as his two companions had deserted him. Wally, if lacking courage, in some respects, was not in the least shy of that quality, sometimes known as nerve. Stepping up to Summers, he demanded, have you a card? I never play cards,' F answered.

Were cards what caused your downfall? You know what I mean, insisted, Wally. If I do, F. replied Gully, I shall keep it to myself. It's an old habit with me to keep to myself whatever I know. Have you a personal card with your address on it? Wally insisted as the three submarine boys passed on with the stranger, keeping doggedly by F. Somerside. Why?

I want your card, Wally declared. Why do you want it? Summers demanded suspiciously. I want to know where to find you again, while he retorted sharply. That's the most excellent reason I can think of for refusing your request. Summers responded.

As far as I'm concerned, I shall feel better pleased if I never lay eyes on you again. You may well say that, jeered the young stranger. At this moment the three young officers hailed and boarded a car. Wally followed them as far as the car steps, and was in the act of entering the car

when he remembered that he had no nickel to hand to the conductor. For three blocks, Wally followed on foot, running along on the sidewalk, then puffing, he halted a stitch in his side. Hang it, he groaned. I wish I knew where to find young carrot top. I'd like to pass some trouble onto him. He was the means of having me put out of the Arlington for good and all,

and now I don't see how I'm ever going to reach the ear of Dravens. Five minutes with Dravens, and I could have persuaded him to give me a chance in his Dutch pagoda company. But for Carrotop, I'd have seen Dravens and got that chance. Regardless of the passers-by, Mr. Wally shook his fist vehemently, in the direction of the now far-distant streetcar. Like many others of weak intellect, Wally believed that F's conduct

had deprived him of a great chance on the stage, so he hated the unknown Summers with an intensity peculiar to such dispositions. Just at that moment, the young would-be actor would have felt vastly better if he had known that he and F. Summers were destined to meet again,

In the meantime, Wally's hatred was not likely to die out. End of Chapter 1. Recording by John Brandon Chapter 2 of the Submarine Boys and the Smugglers by Victor G. Durham. This Libravox recording is in the public domain. Recording by John Brandon. Jack meets Skipper Redbeard. I never saw anything a story.

slow as this game, murmured F, disconsolately. Here we've put in a month already, along the coast of the mosquito state, and we might as well have stayed at Norfolk for all we've learned. It's a baffling hunt, Lieutenant Jack admitted with a sigh. I hope the Navy Department understands just how hard we are up against it. Every day, I'm afraid of receiving a telegram ordering us to take the grant back to Norfolk, tie her up, and go on the waiting orders list. It wouldn't be so tough, put in Ensign Hall, if it weren't for the fact that the smuggling is still going right on. Uncle Sam must stand to lose a lot of money, suggested F,

if the parcels of smuggled goods are still being shipped to New York without having paid duty. Yet your dispatches, Jack, state that these parcels are, are being regularly shipped. Uncle Sam won't lose much in that direction, Lieutenant Benson answered. The people who receive these packages and parcels are all of them, sleeping over dynamite mines. As soon as the government gets ready to act, it will swoop down, pounce upon these New York people who are receiving smuggled goods and find them all heavily besides probably sending the offenders to prison.

The people who are being hurt are we three, and myself, still more particularly, as I happen to be in command. Secretary Sanders picked us out from the whole Navy as the three young men who ought to catch the smugglers. We aren't making good either. If we're recalled, we'll be set down as stupid boys, and that may be about the last that the Navy ever hears about us. Hang it! Why can't we have the brains to strike at least a good clue? The three young officers had been sitting over their luncheon in the cramped little wardroom of the grant. It was hardly larger than a stateroom, this tiny little wardroom. But as there were three officers required on board, this little craft had to have a wardroom.

In naval terms, a ward room is at once the dining room, club room, and drawing room of a naval craft. From it led a narrow passage with doors opening into two state rooms on either side. The fourth was for a medical officer, when such happened to be on board. On this cruise, there was no surgeon. nor was it quite correct to speak of doors, for the doors had been removed from each of the staterooms, and in their place hung woollen portiers.

This was to save space in the cramped quarters for officers, which were aft, and of course on a submarine below deck. The single waiter on the grant had only, already been dismissed, and the outer door of the passageway bolted, so the officers felt they might talk without danger of being overheard. At present the grant lay at anchor in the tiny sand-enclosed bay of Boxhaven, an inferior summer resort well south of Atlantic City. During nearly all of the month, the grant had been off one point or another of the coast of New Jersey. The public and even the crew believed that the main object of the crews was drill and practice.

Every day the crew was well worked to keep up this delusion. As many visitors, as permitted, had come on board. Newspaper men and their photographers had paid many calls and had written or photographed as much on and concerning the grant as the regulations allowed. But the grant was the biggest, the newest submarine torpedo boat in the American Navy and in her class, the pride of the Navy and of the people. Lieutenant Jack had not been loafing. Neither had his two ensigns.

On shore, Secret Servicemen had endeavored to run down the men who had brought parcels of smuggled goods to express offices, but so far without result. It's a bit stifling down here, said Lieutenant Jack Benson, rising at last. Let's go up on deck. They rose, passing out into the main cabin, where at night, the gunner's mate and twelve seamen hung their hammocks. As they passed through this cabin, the enlisted men gathered their rows and stood at attention until Jack commanded, carry on. Up the circular staircase, and out through the conning tower,

stepped the three young officers. On the tower platform, after the tower itself, a tiny awning had been spread. Under the awning, there was just room for three chairs for the officers. There's a boat pulling off from shore and heading this way, murmured F. Summers. Maybe the fellow bears a telegram ordering our return to Norfolk. That's not just about a crusher that is much too likely to happen, begged Benson.

Fellows, we're feeling the disagreeable side of responsibility more than we ever did before. For a carefree life with little besides hard work put in hell, commend me to that. He's not indicated a small lobster schooner that was even there. then heading into the bay, not far away. These men who go out during the evening seldom return before early afternoon. Yes, those chaps are lucky in a way, Jack admitted. The lobster man has a rough, hard-working life, but he has little more to contend with than work and some danger.

He doesn't know what it is to have the Navy Department send him on a hopeless errand and then jerk him up for not having performed the impossible. If the secret servicemen who are at work could only obtain a thread of a clue to start us on, perhaps we might do the rest. Within a very short time it was plain that the small boat was actually heading for the submarine at anchor. Lieutenant John Benson on board? asked the man at the oars.

I am he, Jack answered. Telegram for you, sir. As the vote came alongside, Benson stepped forward, received the sealed envelope, and signed the Orsman's book. Then the young lieutenant went back to his seat. It's from the department, he announced, after a glance at the bottom of the message. Recalling us? Ask F. Dryly? I don't know. It's in the ordinary cipher. I shall have to go below and figure it out. While he was below, Hal and F exchanged barely a dozen words. What do you think?

Asked Jack, his eyes blazing as he came up twenty minutes later and dropped once more into his chair. Recalled to Norfolk, there to wait orders, I suppose. Hal drawled. Nothing like it, Benson answered. The department informs me that, Three days ago, four parcels of smuggled goods were shipped from the Box Haven Express office. Right under our noses, Hal exclaimed.

There is no kick from the secretary, Jack continued. Evidently, he thinks the information in itself is kick enough. And he comes mighty close to being right, quivered of. What in the name of wisdom ails us fellows? How are the smugglers managing to fool us, right under our noses? There is no certainty that the smuggled goods were landed at Box Haven, Jack Benson maintained quietly. Yet I believe that the secretary thinks we're lying at anchor in the very harbor of the smugglers. What's to be done? demanded Hal Hastings, after a long pause.

I don't know, Jack confessed Frank. But I know what I need. A long walk down a quiet road, and I'm going ashore to have it. Want any company? Helen Quire rising with alacrity. Now, we want to keep at least two officers on board. If I can't think out anything for myself, I'll let you two draw lots to see who shall be the next to go ashore. Gunners mate? in answer to the last summons, the gunner's mate appeared saluting.

Mate, have the gig alongside at once. Very good, sir. Jack Benson went promptly below. The gig lay alongside when he came on deck again. The young commander of the grant was now in summer gray, soft flannel shirt, flowing tie, tan shoes, and the same straw hat he had worn in white. Washington. In the gig sat the coxswain and four oarsmen. To the usual landing, Jack ordered,

as he stepped into the gig, and the coxon, after saluting, gave the order to the men to give way. Shall we wait for you, sir? asked the coxon, touching his cap after Jack Benson had stepped upon the low pier. No, I will signal what I wish the gig to take me on board. As Jack Benson turned away, disappointment showed on the faces of five Jackies. They had hoped for a little shore leave, which was the scarce article on the grant. Avoiding the streets of the village, Benson found a country road that ran to the south. Three hours of that early summer afternoon he had spent trudging along the lonely country roads. When he again neared Box Haven, the young naval officer was obliged to admit, with a nearly

discouraged sigh that he appeared to be as far as ever from having any plan of action in mind. I hate to go back again aboard the boat and tell Hal and F that I've wasted so much time in shoe leather. Jack grumbled to himself as he made for the pier. Not until he had stepped out upon the pier did he realize how, absorbed he had been in other matters, where he was not on the right pier at all, but on one that lay a quarter of a mile south of the usual landing. The pier on which he now found himself was older, smaller, shorter. Alongside at the end lay a small schooner of perhaps 15 tons of burden. Looking for anybody? Called a young man on the pier, not far from the schooner. He looked like a seafaring

man. I'm strolling about out of curiosity, Jack replied pleasantly. Huh? Was the greeting of the other. Is this craft a lobster man? Benton inquired as he went nearer the little schooner. Not exactly, replied the sailor. What do you mean by that? We do more in fishing than in lobster catching, replied the young stranger, who did not grow more gracious upon further acquaintance. It's pretty hard work on the boats along this coast, isn't it? Benson asked pleasantly, is he halted gazing aboard the little schooner? Sometimes it is, half grunted the other. Is the pay good, Jack went on? It keeps us alive, said the stranger rather sulkily. Now, what I can't understand, Jack went on smilingly,

is why so many of you young, strong, husky, fearless, sea-trained young fellows go on working year-in, year out until your old men on these fishing craft. Why don't you go into the Navy, where there is fine pay and every chance in the world for young fellows with the right stuff in them? Huh, growled the stranger. I reckon you don't know much about the Navy. Do you? Jack challenged pleasantly. "'Know all I want her about it,' grunted the young seafarer.

"'Well, what of you against the Navy?' asked Lieutenant Jack, "'who was never so contentedly employed as when trying to convince young Americans "'that they ought to enlist. "'I've got everything against it,' retorted the ungracious stranger. "'But what, in particular?' insisted Benson. "'The officers, for one thing, came to sell on answer. What's wrong with the officers, Lieutenant Jack inquired? Why they're the most all-fired, stuck-up lot of dudes you ever saw, replied the sulky one, with a scowl. They just strut about and give

orders, and the poor sailors have to go to touching their caps and scraping their feet and acting like so many jumping jacks, else they get in the brig. An officer gets down on some sailor who doesn't throw quite enough soft soap or palaver, and that sailor might as well be dead. That officer just spends his spare time after that, lying about the poor Jackie and getting him into trouble. I guess you've never seen anything of the real life of the Navy, retorted Jack Benson, sternness creeping into his voice. If you've heard anything at all about the Navy, you've heard it from some deserter.

Now a sailor who'll break his oath and desert is hardly to be believed on any point whatever. Huh? If you had followed the sea more and had met as many Jackies as I have retorted the young man, you'd have a different idea about the Navy. I know the pay is good enough, but I make more money anyway than the fellas in the Navy do. So I'm not interested in signing on in the Navy. but you seem to have a very queer idea of the officers, Jack pursued. They're a mean and stuck-up lot the seafarer retorted with some heat.

They're almost as bad as the revenue officers. So you don't like the officers in the revenue cutter service either? Jack inquired. I hate them, flared the other. What did the officers in the revenue cutter service ever do to you? asked Jack Benson, looking straight in the other's face. Nothing. but I hate him just the same, retorted the young seafarer.

A brisk step sounded behind them. Want anything on this pier, young man? Hailed a heavy hoarse, brusque voice. Jack turned leisurely to survey the speaker, who proved to be a heavily built man of medium height with tussled, toe-colored hair, a somewhat reddish beard and a still redder face. His apparel was very ordinary, but

the visored blue cap on his head completed the idea that he was a follower of the sea. Jack's mind at once placed the man who was about 40 years old as the skipper of the schooner. As Jack Benson continued to stare at him, the red-faced man began to look angry. I asked you, young man, he bellowed, if you want anything out on this pier. I strolled along, Jack replied politely, took a look at your schooner, if it is your craft, and had a bit of a talk with this young man. Then, if that was all your business here, you're through, aren't you? demanded the red-bearded man.

I'm through, Jack conceded. If you own this peer and don't want me here, maybe your room would be just as good as your company, retorted the red-faced one. If you really want me to go, then, of course I'll go, Jack agreed, but I didn't know that you felt any need of secrecy here. At mention of the word secrecy, there came a change in the face of the red-bearded man. It was a fleeting change. Gone in an instant. Don't get fresher on places where you've no business, young man, he retorted. Turning, he stepped aboard the schooner.

Come on and tend to your business, Jake, he called to the unlawful. seafarer in a tone that proclaimed him, master of the schooner. Into Jack Benson's mind had come a sudden determination to seem a bit stubborn and see what came of it. So he turned his back on the schooner, but still loitered on the pier. A minute later the red-bearded man stepped heavily over the side of the schooner coming straight toward Benson. Young man, are you going to get off this pier? Or are you not? Why should I? Jack asked coolly. Because I've told you that you ain't wanted here.

Do you call that a good reason? Jack inquired with a smile. It's good enough for me, bellowed, the wrathful skipper. But quite possibly not good enough for me, Jack rejoined. Why have you taken a notion to be disagreeable to me anyway? Am I doing you any harm here? Am I doing anything that interferes with your rights? Will you get off the pier, or shall I grab you by the cold collar and run you off? demanded the irate skipper. Neither, Jack answered. Then you won't get off?

Not until I'm ready, unless you offer me a good reason why I should go earlier. I've got two good reasons, and they're right here, bawled the skipper, raising his heavy fist toward Jack. Now, are you going? Your reasons aren't quite big enough, Jack laughed quietly. They aren't, hey, demanded the skipper advancing. We'll see about that. With both hands, he made a dive for Jack's collar, but Benson stepped nimbly out of the way. As the heavy skipper turned to follow him, Jack thrust out one of his feet. That trip brought the skipper down with such force that his fall jarred the pier timbers. I'll pay you back for that, roared the skipper,

getting lumberingly onto his feet while Jack smiled provokingly at him. This time, two sledgehammer fists milled at the boy's head. But Jack Benson was no amateur in boxing. Sea Life had taught him much in this line, without giving an inch of ground he parried the ugly blows until he saw his chance to drive in a blow that floored the skipper. Jake, bellowed the skipper, as he started to rise to his feet, bring a couple of belaying pins, and we'll attend to this city dude's case.

If you're wise, Jake Benson called warningly, you'll remain right where you are. If I have to defend myself, I'll soon begin to get rough and mix things up. the two of you won't be enough to whip me, and you'll both have broken heads before you're through with me. Jake, who had watched the fight up to date, was inclined to agree that this very thing might happen. So though he had snatched up a pair of belaying pins,

he now halted at the schooner's rail. Coming, you, Jake, demanded the skipper horse lay. No, he isn't, Jack Benson retorted. Jake has more sense than you have, and he doesn't want to get a broken head in another man's stupid quarrel. Are you going to get off this pier? demanded the skipper. Not until I'm quite ready, Benson answered. If you had been civil, I would have gone it once. Now I'm going to suit my own convenience and pleasure.

Let me give you a bit of advice, my man. Don't be so quick with your fists. For you're almost certain to run up against a better boxer than yourself. You don't know the least thing about real fist-fighting. Go on your craft and cool off. And presently I'll stroll off the pier as I strolled onto it. I'll see you again, growled the skipper wrathfully. As he turned, I'll settle this with you too.

Lieutenant Benson smiled but did not answer in words. But three or four minutes after the skipper had vanished into the schooner's cabin, Benson dallyed on the pier. At last, he turned and walked away. Outwardly, Benson was cool enough, but inwardly he was far from calm. Gracious, he muttered, I really believe I've hit upon something that will be well worth watching. That young sailor lettered out that he disliked the officers. of the Revenue Cutter Service.

And then he was confused when I asked him what he had against the Revenue Service. Then his captain, as soon as I mentioned the word secrecy, looked mighty strange for an instant. Why may not that schooner be the smuggler as well as any other craft? Some vessel along the New Jersey coast is doing the smuggling, and that schooner, the velvet, which I've seen a dozen times may be the...

very craft. I won't go back to the grant just yet. I'll take dinner at one of the hotels, eat slowly, think fast, and maybe ask a few questions around the village. This may lead to something really great in the line that we've been hunting. Strolling up the principal waterfront street, outwardly wholly placid, Lieutenant Jack Benson stopped at the Belair, the best summer hotel in the place. Here meals were served on two side verandas. Taking out a table, Jack seated himself to enjoy a shore dinner and his own thoughts. While we leave him momentarily thus engaged, let us glance briefly at Jack Benson's previous exploits, and those of his two friends in the service, Hal Hastings, and F. Summers. All our readers recall the first volume of

the series. The submarine boys on duty. In this was told how Jack Benson and Hal Hastings, two boys wandering about in search of a living, came to the little seaport town, where Jacob Farnham, Shipbuilder, and David Pollard Inventor, were constructing the first of the subsequently famous Farnham Pollard submarines, how Jack and Hal tried with all their might to secure employment with the builders, and how F. Summers subsequently join them is well known. All their first steps in patiently mastering the details of life and work on a diving torpedo boat are told in this first volume, as well as the amazing adventures that befell them. In the second volume, the submarine boys' trial trip, we found our three young friends working night and day to

become experts in their most unusual calling. The details, the awful perils, and the rousing plot unfolded have not yet escaped the recollection of any of our readers. In the submarine boys and the middies, we found our young friends so far masters of their work that they were sent to the U.S. Naval Academy at Annapolis to serve as civilian instructors to the brigade of midshipmen in the mysteries of handling the Farnham Pollard submarines. With the midshipman, Jack Hal, and F had some wonderfully amusing adventures and shared some of the most startling dangers of the deep. Then in the fourth volume, the Submarine Boys and the Spies, we found our young friends,

exposed to the cleverest work of the spies of different foreign governments. All of these spies doing their level best to penetrate the mysteries of the spies of the spies. of the Farnham Pollard Submarines. Jack Hal and F, in fact, more than once, came within an ace of losing their lives. In their efforts to thwart clever and dangerous spies, it was a stirring tale of adventure of the best type, as all our readers will remember.

The submarine boy's lightning crews dealt with incidents even more exciting and attended by very different circumstances. The plot unfolded was one to arouse the patriotism of an American boy and to gratify his craving for the most thrilling adventures. All through these varied and truly wonderful adventures, the three lads, by constant application to their work, had made themselves more complete masters of their chosen profession. In the volume preceding this present one, the submarine boys for the flag, we found our lads recognized as being in many respects among the best informed authorities on the handling of submarine craft,

and especially of the Farnham Pollard type, of which the United States now owned many. Foreign governments now try to secure the services of the submarine boys outright, offering them advantageous positions in foreign navies. The train of adventures related in this narrative finally, placed the three in brief command of a United States naval craft, under direct authority from Washington. Such excellent work did they now perform that all three, in order to keep them in the United States service, were offered positions as acting officers of the Navy. Jack Benson's appointment was as acting lieutenant junior grade, while Hal and F were appointed as acting ensigns.

All three of the boys, being too young to receive actual commissions from the President, were promised commissions as each reached the age of 21. And now let us return to that keen young follower of the sea, Lieutenant Jack Benson, whom we shall find finishing his solitary dinner on the porch of the Hotel Bel Air. As we approach him again, we find him pondering earnestly on the means, if any, of the conduct of the two men at the schooner's pier. End of Chapter 2. Recording by John Brandon.

Chapter 3 of the Submarine Boys and the Smugglers by Victor G. Durham. This Libre Vox recording is in the public domain. Recording by John Brandon. Chapter 3. Making a bid for trouble. Mr. Benson, I believe. The hail came so unexpectedly that Jack, very deep in thought, started slightly as he looked up. Didn't frighten an old dog like you, did I? came the laughing question. How do you do, Mr. White was Jack's greeting, as he rose holding out his hand to clasp the one offered him.

What are you doing round here? asked Mr. White. May I sit down with you? Yes, to the last question Jack answered, as to my question. my business here, haven't you heard? It's been enough in the newspapers about it. Never read the newspapers. They're a beastly bore, replied young White, a man of perhaps twenty-five, as he dropped into a chair. I should think in your position in the State Department you'd have to read the newspapers, Benson went on. No, for my work, the little that I do, relates mostly to digging through ancient documents, treaties, and the like, you know. Ned White was the son of a manufacturer who had amassed several millions of dollars in

business. Ned had positively declined business as a career, had been educated as a lawyer. Grinding work, however, was not much to young White's taste. As the only son of a rich man, he couldn't discover that he would ever have much need of industry. So the father, a man rather useful in party politics, and determined to keep his son, at some form of employment, had secured for Ned a clerical appointment to the State Department at Washington, where his legal training would make him of some use. Ned rented an apartment in Washington at a rental just twice the size of his salary from the government. The father supplying

the needed funds. Ned was not wild at all, but he had a settled aversion to continued hard work, and did as little at the State Department as he could and escape the censure of those over him. At heart, barring his laziness, he was a good fellow. Perhaps the main thing that ailed the young man was that he had not yet found congenial outlet for his energies. Jack had been, met this budding diplomat in Washington, though the two had never become more than casually acquainted. You're running a submarine again, White asked, as he scanned the bill of fare. Benson replied that he had command of the grant, which was engaged on a practice and trying

out cruise. Wish I could go with you, remarked Ned White, though I don't suppose you could get leave to take a passenger. That's a hard thing to do, you know, Lieutenant Jack smiled. It isn't at all easy to secure permission to carry a passenger on a naval vessel. I believe I could get that fixed at Washington. If I were sure that you would regard me as being really welcome on board, White replied as he signaled a waiter, come, by all means, if you can secure the necessary permission of the Navy to department, Jack answered. What accommodation have you on board? asked White.

Looking up eagerly, do I have to sleep on a seat in the cabin? No, there's a vacant state room for the accommodation of a surgeon, and we haven't won on this cruise. By Jove, I believe I'll try to get a permit. Ned White laughed, looking interested. I've never been on a submarine, and I'd like the experience. I'm glad I've met you, Benson. Jack did not believe White would have much luck with the Navy Department. While it is invariably difficult to secure passage on a craft of the Navy, Secretary Sanders was certain to be even more than unusually slow to grant permission,

considering the nature of the real mission on which the young officers of the grant were engaged. Ned White ordered a heavy dinner, but he ate it quickly. While doing so, he explained that he had utilized the first part of his vacation to come down and look over the Bel Air, which property his mother had recently given him. The landlord has been a bit slow about paying the lease money, you know. White added in a low tone, it's because the season is yet young, he tells me. During the last few minutes, the sky had been clouding and now rain and wind came together. bright lightning and heavy thunder followed, driving the few guests from the verandas.

Come up to my rooms, Benson, invited the idle young man. We can chat there, and be dry at the same time. I want to pump you a bit about the attractions of the submarine life. Though he would rather just then have been rid of his companion, Ned White was so thoroughly good-humored and likable, but Jack did not see his way to refuse the invitation. "'A poor old hotel, this,' muttered White, as he opened the door to his rooms. "'Yet I fancy I have rather the best quarters here.'

"'See how dismal it is? Really, I'm a bit of shame to own such a hotel.' "'When shame weighs you down too hard,' laughed Lieutenant Jack. "'Just eat the property over to me.' "'Why, it wouldn't net you much,' drawled Young White. "'Only $4,500 a season.' That's considerably more than I'm making now, smiled Benson as he took a seat. Oh, of course, the government pays beastly salaries, said White, with his easy, lordly air. But then, of course, you have some outside income of your own.

All fellows in the government service have. I have nothing that I haven't earned myself, Jack answered. Just then, the wind shifted, driving in a deluge of rain through one of the the open windows. Ned sprang to close the window, for he could display a good deal of energy when he wished. You're a sailor, Ned White went on. Tell me how long this rain is going to last. The way the sky looked and the way it's raining now, Jack answered, it may last for some hours yet. Then you won't be going out to your craft tonight, White rejoined. You can put up here. There are plenty of vacant rooms.

and I'll make Gray, the landlord, put you up in a room as my guest without making you any charge. Oh, I shall have to go back by and buy, Jack protested. It would never do for a sailor to let himself be held up by a little rain, Benson laughed. You'll ruin your clothes. I have others. Although trying to preserve an appearance of interest in his companion's remarks, Benson was thinking actively about the great problem that had been in his mind for a month past. At least you'll let me offer you rainclothes, asked Ned White. What sort? asked Jack, looking up with keener interest than his host had expected.

I'll show you, replied White. Going to a wardrobe, he brought forth a long rubber raincoat and a refined imitation of a fisherman's southwester headgear. I had these the last time across the pond, White explained. Very useful I found them, too. There's a pair of rubber boots here somewhere. The boots, too, were produced. As Jack tried on the coat, he told himself gleefully,

The rain and this rig make just what I wanted, a real disguise, in which I may now approach that wharf again. If I keep my face shaded, I wouldn't be recognized if seen, but I mustn't be seen. Benson remained a half an hour longer, chatting as best he could with his pleasant, friendly host, then borrowing the rainclothes and dawning them. Jack bade Ned White a hasty goodbye.

Now we shall see if the... there's anything to be seen tonight, he told himself, as he merged his dark rainclothes into the blackness of the stormy night. There's just a chance that I may be on the right track. Through the discovery, I blundered into this afternoon. A chance? Lieutenant Jack Benson, U.S.N. would have thrilled if he had known right then how much of a chance. Yet had he been able to see in advance all of the immediate future, even his stout sailor heart might have quailed. End of Chapter 3. Recording by John Brandon. Chapter 4 of the Submarine Boys and the Smugglers by Victor G. Durham. This Lieber Vox

recording is in the public domain. Recording by John Brandon. Chapter 4, One Way to Sue the Dog It was hard to wait that last half hour, muttered Benson, as he halted in the shadow of some trees. Yet it wouldn't do to prowl about the pier, while there was too bright lightning. One flesh might undo a good night's work. I guess the lightning has gone by now, however. It was still raining heavily,

but the downpour Jack counted as his friend. As he walked, he peered sharply ahead down the dark waterfront road, nor did the young submarine officer wholly neglect to keep a watcher stern. Whenever he came to a clump of trees, he halted under them, taking a still more complete survey of his surroundings. I don't believe Captain Redbeard will be abroad tonight unless he has real business out in the open,

young Benson reflected, during one of these halts under a tree, I wonder if he and his helper are now ashore or aboard, ashore, I hope, for I'd really like a little chance to look over the velvet without being observed. As he neared the pier in question, he now found all in darkness, save for the single dim mast-headlight required by law. As Lieutenant Jack neared the land end of the pier, once more halted, looking keenly for any sign of life aboard the velvet.

No light shone from the cabin. The schooner carried no forecastle, having instead a tiny galley forward. Being engaged supposedly in fishing, most of her hull space was taken up with hold, where tons of fish could be dropped. There was no light in the galley either, which was where Jake would be most likely to be seated if he were a stir. Though it was not yet quite nine in the evening, the hour was not too early for tired fishermen to be in their bunks. Now it makes a heap of difference to me,

mused the young officer, whether the skipper, Jake, and anyone else who may belong to the craft is ashore or merely in the good old bunk on board. While prowling in this fashion, it wouldn't be good taste to arouse a sleeper. After waiting, peering, and listening for some five minutes, Jack Benson decided to go softly down the pier, taking further observations from a point nearer the schooner.

GUR! sounded in his path. So unexpectedly that Jack Benson leaped back instantly. Before him, having appeared from somewhere out of the darkness of the night, stood a most belligerent-looking bulldog. It was a capable business-like animal. So far as appearance went, the beast continued growling in low notes, while watchfully eyeing the movements of Lieutenant Jack.

Now, even if this beast wouldn't bite, murmured Benson to himself, as he stood his ground, the least that he will do will be to advertise my coming to anyone who may be sleeping on board. Confounded, I never had as just reason for disliking bulldogs, as I have at this present moment. After eyeing the dog a little longer, Benson held out a hand coaxingly. Nice old fellow, he ventured soothingly, and took a short step forward. Grrrh. Dryly replied the nice.

old fellow, bristling and displaying a few more formidable teeth. Now, confusion to you, you're going to spring. If I take half a step more, aren't you? Murmored Jack Benson. With that, he drew back step by step. Mr. Bulldog didn't offer to follow, but bristled and watched. You'll permit me to get away, but you won't allow me on the pier, muttered Jack. for a good, honest, even if too suspicious dog.

The young lieutenant continued under his breath, and I don't in the least like what I'm going to have to do to you. Eyeing the dog all the time to guard against surprise, Benson fumbled in his pockets, until his fingers clutched at a pocket handkerchief. This is an odd weapon to use in whipping a bulldog, Benson grimaced. But I've seen it work before, and I believe it will this time, too. There was nothing novel in the stratagem that Lieutenant Jack was now about to test.

It takes grit and steady nerves, however, if one is to put the trick through successfully. Folding the handkerchief, grasping one end in either hand, Benson now advanced slowly, yet steadily. Come on and get it, muttered the young submarine. officer in a low voice. Grrr. Mr. Bulldog showed reliable signs of being about to leap at his enemy. Take that, then, taunted Lieutenant Jack,

thrusting both hands forward. Regarding the handkerchief as the weapon with which he was being threatened, the dog leaped straight forward, fastening his teeth over it, bump. Jack threw back. his right foot, then swung it instantly forward, landing it in a strenuous kick over the exposed pit of the brute's stomach. At least a dozen feet, the bulldog was hurled, landing on its back

with all its breath gone. That's a nasty trick to play even on an ugly dog Jack admitted to himself. Yet it was the only thing to be done in this case. After perhaps a full minute the dog got painfully upon its feet. It did not whine or moan, but crawled toward land, a dejected whipped brute, with spirit gone, at least for the present. No more trouble to be expected from you, my friend, Jack Benson murmured, under his breath. You have my fullest apologies, poor old fellow,

even though you don't know what an apology is. satisfied that the bulldog was too crushed in spirit to attack him again, Jack Benson stepped with soft tread onto the pier. Bit by bit he drew nearer to the schooner, less than a dozen feet from her stern rail. He halted for a final observation. Captain Redbeard, if a board and asleep, was the kind of man who might be counted upon to have a mighty snore.

Jack listened for fully a minute, but without result. I believe the fellows that work aboard here are all ashore in their homes for the night. Jack muttered, so there can't be any risk in slipping aboard. Cautiously, the young naval lieutenant put one foot over the rail and listened again. Next he drew the other foot after him. The hatchway and windows of the cabin were fastened. There's no one sleeping aboard, then, unless he's sleeping in the hold or out on deck. The deck is not a likely place, cautiously with an eye to landward.

All the while the submarine boy made his way forward. There was no one in the galley, which was not even locked. But the hatchway over the hole was padlocked into place. A new hatch cover, mused, Lieutenant Jack, kneeling in order to get a better look in the blackness that prevailed. This is a good deal better hatch cover than a thrifty skipper would bother to put on an old fishing boat. My, but it's solidly made. Now fish isn't a cargo that has to be protected, especially from a little saltwater

that might drain into the hold. By the way, though this, may be a fishing boat, it is remarkably free from any odor of fish. Jack Benson, I believe your lucky star is shining up there somewhere behind the rain clouds, for it looks as though you were at last on the right track after all these weeks. So absorbed had the young lieutenant become in studying the hatch cover and in noting the absence of the odor of fish that he did not. not see two figures move upon the little pier from the land. Yet presently the submarine boy's sharp ears caught the sound of footsteps.

Benson looked up with a start to see two men within forty feet of the schooner. If that's the skipper, I'm a fool to be caught in this matter, gritted the submarine boy. There was no time to do anything except to throw himself flat on his stomach and crawl rapidly to the starboard side of the cabin. Even here, he would not be hidden in case the two men boarded astern. Then for a few seconds, Jack waited in breathless suspense. The two men did not approach in any seeming hurry. It's going to be a black night, skipper, suggested Jake.

All the better for us, came the gruff reply, which made Jack's heart leap with joy. For now he felt all the more certain, that he was on the track of the marine evildoers. Wump, came a line aboard at the stern. Throw off the bowline, Jake, ordered the skipper, then jump aboard. It won't take us over two hours to get out there, will it? inquired Jake.

Not if the wind holds the way it is, but I'd rather wait an hour out on the water than be five minutes late. You know how fussy a certain party is. These words filled Jack Benson with all the greater hope of being on the right track. As the skipper had halted in front of the cabin, Jack now had to make a lightning choice. Should he try to remain aboard, taking great chances? Or should he slip overboard, joining the grant as speedily as possible, and then try under cover of the night to give secret chase to this schooner?

Of course if I go on the grant, Jack breathed quickly to himself, I will have to take considerable chance of being caught in the wake of this craft. If we were once sighted, the smugglers would have all the alarm they need, and we might never catch them in the act. But if I remain on board this little schooner, how much chance have I of managing not to be discovered here? Thus was he tossed between the uncertainties afforded by either course of action. End of Chapter 4, recording by John Brandon. Staples Preferred Business Membership, built for busy business owners, because you've got bigger things to think about.

With Staples Preferred, get free delivery, no minimums. Staples Preferred unlocks up to 3% back, plus 10% savings on print and exclusive wireless offers. one less thing on your plate. Actually, a lot less. Visit staples.ca slash preferred. That was easy. Chapter 5 of the submarine boys and the smugglers by Victor G. Durham.

This Libravox recording is in the public domain. Recording by John Brandon. Chapter 5. Jack grows really weird. To the risk of his own life, Jack Benson did not give an instance thought. No officer or enlisted man in the military service of the United States has any right to consider personal risk where his duty is plain. But the submarine boy's present duty was not plain. All he knew was that he must catch the smugglers if possible. All that remained to be decided

was as to which course would be wiser. Hoist the forthal, Jake, commanded the skipper. that'll be sale enough until we get clear of land. That order brought Benson sharply to his senses. So far he had been concerned with deciding upon the better course. Now with a jolt he realized that the little craft had been cast clear of the pier and must already be drifting. If he meant to get ashore, he must do it either by diving or jumping. Fortunately, he was spared the choice.

for the skipper, in going astern to the wheel, chose to leap upon the cabin and walk aft over the house. In the name of Pete, what have we here? growled the skipper, stepping down, a heavy hand was laid on Benson's shoulder. Gourke! Came a hearty snore from the quick-witted submarine boy. A sleeper on Brin' arm.

board, eh? grumbled the skipper, giving Jack a harder shake, then yanking him to his feet. Here, give an account of yourself. As yet, the skipper had not seen the young naval officer's face, for Benson had been lying face downward. Now, as he felt himself being dragged to his feet, Jack used one hand slyly to pull his Saw Western well over his face. Who are you? Demand. commanded the skipper, holding his catch at arm's length. It was plain that he did not see enough of the face to recognize the youth who had vanquished him in daylight. Oh, cried Jack in a falsetto tone of alarm. Scared, are you? grimaced the skipper. You'll be more so. Maybe before you're through with me.

Here, keep your hands off of me. But Benson had made no move to strike. Instead, he used the fingers of both hands, nimbly informing what looked like letters of the deaf and dumb alphabet. Come don't make motions, order the skipper. Talk up. Ooh! Continued Jack in the same voice which he hardly recognized himself. His fingers flew faster than ever.

A deaf mute, eh? grunted the skipper. Jake! That dick hand started aft, but, Jack, who now dreaded discovery of his identity more than anything else, gave a sudden wrench, which freed him from the skipper's relaxing clutch. There didn't seem to be much need of holding the prisoner anyway, for the schooner was now 40 feet away from the pier. Oh, yelled Jack, as he made a dive for the port rail of the schooner. Not a moment did he linger there, but went over the rail. Splash! Who was it?

gasped Jake, halting by the side of the skipper who had stopped at the rail at the spot where Benson had gone overboard. Get a bolt hook and don't ask questions yet, ordered the skipper. Jake speedily returned with the implement desired. Funny, muttered the skipper grimly. What, asked Jake. That fellow doesn't come up. Maybe he came up under the hull and dazed himself, Jake suggested. We'll soon find out, returned the skipper.

for we're drifting, and the feller's body would soon be in view. "'Body?' repeated Jake with a slight shiver. "'I don't care what that fellow did to himself,' returned the skipper gruffly. But he has no business to be found drowned near that pier. "'It might look ugly for us, Jake.' "'That's so,' assented the deckhand. For five minutes, during which time the schooner drifted more than a hundred feet further off the ebbing tide, Jake and his commander watched intently, but there was no sign of a floating body.

It's uncanny, declared the skipper with a shake of his round head. I don't like this kind of a proceeding. You like it as well as I do, retorted Jake. What are we going to do, land and report this case? And miss the night's work, demanded the skipper. Not to any great extent. we'll have to let the fellow take his own chances. Go forward and haul in on the sheet.

Jake started, but there seemed to be lead in his shoes. Hurry, ordered the skipper sternly. If you don't, I'll, not waiting to hear the finish of the threat. Jake went forward and hauled in. Taking the wheel, the skipper brought the craft around, so the forsel filled. steering the skipper at the same time let his gaze rove backward for more than two full minutes. No black-clad body, however, came to the surface.

Jake! Hall on the main sheet, bawled the skipper finally. Jake came, but as he hauled, he called back. See anything of that, feller? Not a sight. It's tough, declared Jake. We'd better not go. out tonight, Skipper.

Why not, you idiot? We won't have any luck, Skipper. Jake, you're a fool. Hall away on the Halliards. Yet as the schooner made her way out, the skipper himself was by no means at his ease because most sailors are superstitious. Finding that black-clad figure

of one who had not even the power of speech and then seeing that strange being leap overboard to his death was a blow even to the stout nerves of the skipper. He himself would much have preferred not putting out to sea that night. Skipper, hinted Jake when he made all fast. You better go a mile up the coast and anchor for tonight. Jake, you make me weary. Came the answer in a tone of pretended disgust.

Oh, all right, grumbled the deck hand as he turned to go forward. I don't guess I'm any coward, and I can take any medicine that I have to. But you know, Skipper, what dead men's fingers are said to do to a rudder— "'Shut up!' roared the Skipper, starting, nonetheless, and casting an apprehensive glance astern at the water. It's all right, Jake assented sullenly. I'll go to Davy Jones' locker with you. That's where we'll have breakfast in the morning.

Whack! A belaying pin struck the foremast, but the skipper had aimed it at Jake. Had the skipper been a man given to keener guessing, he might have had a glimmer of an idea as to what had happened to the stranger. At this very moment, Jack Benson, though decidedly wet was wholly comfortable in mind.

Following his dive, he had swum silently underwater for a distance that he knew would carry him under the pier. It was hard work swimming below the surface hampered with such garments as he wore, and when he came up he was out of breath, gasping as soon as he felt the air on his face. But he was in complete darkness under his face, the pier and resting on one of the cross pieces between the piling. Enough of the conversation from Jake and the skipper came back to cause the submarine boy to

chuckle quietly. So I'm a dead man, and going to be a ghost next, am I? asked Benson of himself. Jupiter. That may be a good thing to remember later on, for I'm sure I'm going to see a good bit of that there. As the mainsail filled and the sheets were hauled in, the schooner began to fade into the distance. Now I'll get on shore, mighty quickly, muttered the submarine boy, letting go his hold. He swam out from under the pier and made his way up onto dry land. Along the road he fairly flew until he came to the

pier on which he had landed earlier in the afternoon. Drawing a whistle from his pocket, Jack blew a shrill signal on it. It was answered by a similar whistle from the grant. In the black night, Benson could not make out the figures of Jackie's tumbling over the side into the gig. But he knew, nonetheless,

that they were doing it. Finally, Jack heard a son. slight creak of rollox. Next saw the cutter coming shoreward through the darkness. Then the cutter ran up alongside the pier. To the grant, coxon, Jack ordered dropping into the stern sheets, and give way with a will. Haste is the word. None of the sailors discovered that their youthful commander was drenched. The rubber coat hid the young lieutenant completely. and it was natural in such a rain that it should appear to be wet. All the way out to the submarine craft,

Jack Benson kept his gaze on the now very dim light at the schooner's foremast head. I've come aboard, Mr. Hastings, was Jack's formal greeting, as he stepped over the side returning his junior's salute. Have the gig made fast to the buoy, and have everything in readiness for an immediate start. Very good, sir. was Hal's reply, with another exchange of salutes. Where's Mr. Summers? Turned in, sir. Let him sleep then. We don't need him now.

Hal quickly turned to give the order to make the gig fast to the nearby buoy, for no boat may be carried by a submarine on a cruise. Gunner's mate, called Jack sharply. That petty officer at once reported. Order the engine-room watch on duty, very good, sir. More salutes were exchanged. All ready to cast off, sir, reported Hal. Very good, Mr. Hastings. Make the anchor cable also fast to the buoy. Then station a man at the wheel. Do you see that light standing out to sea? Yes, sir. That light is to be our chase after we're underway, Mr. Hastings. Station a man at the wheel and give the engine room signal as soon as the anchor cable is made fast. Very good, sir. Anchor cable made fast to the buoy, sir, reported the seaman, approaching and saluting. Helmsman rang Hal's voice. Aye, aye, sir. Do you see that masked headlight, two and a half points off

starboard bow? Aye, aye, sir. Follow that light at six miles speed. Aye, aye, sir. Down in the engine room, a bell clanged. The grant moved slowly ahead, gaining steerage way. Then, in another moment, the engine stopped, leaving the submarine to drift. Find out what's wrong, Mr. Hastings, called Jack Benson sharply. Hal darted into the conning tower, and next below. In less than 60 seconds, he was back on deck saluting. Sir, I regret to report that the engine refuses to work. What's wrong? asked Jack with a start. I don't know, sir. I believe it's a small break. The engine room watch are all busy trying to locate the trouble.

Tank charged there, Mr. Hastings, and find out as quickly as you can. Benson directed experiencing a feeling of sudden dismay. Hal darted below. Minutes passed as Jack Benson paced the very limited area of the tower platform, turning every few seconds to look at the schooner's masthead light, which was growing dimmer and dimmer. End of Chapter 5, recording by John Brandon. Chapter 6 of the Submarine Boys and the Smugglers by Victor G. Durham.

This Librevox recording is in the public domain. Recording by John Brandon. Chapter 6. Hal takes a hand next. Finally, with a sigh, Jack dropped into the deck chair, on which Ensign Hal had been sitting before his commander's return. Some minutes after that, Hal Hastings stepped on deck. Sir, the break is not a serious one, he reported. Then he explained the nature of it, adding,

We shall be able to put in repair parts and have the engine running within half an hour. It might as well be within six months, Jack replied dismally. The light that we were going to follow passed out of sight 15 minutes ago. Howl cast a swift glance seaward confirming his superior statement. What was that light? he asked in a whisper. Anything to do with our work here? I think so, Jack whispered back. Then I shan't be easy until I know more about that craft.

I saw her putting out for I noted that she carried only a masthead light. Then I saw the red and green sidelights hung out. But I took it to be a lobster man or fishing boat. Two sailors and rainclothes were standing a little forward. My men called Jack, and they wheeled saluting. Are you the deck watch, Jack inquired? Yes, sir, answered one of them. You may keep your watch in the cabin, for Mr. Hastings and I will be on deck for some time.

Turn on the fans below. If they're not running, let no one up on deck without permission. Saluting, the sailors hurried below. It was none too pleasant on deck. even though provided with rainclothes. Drawing their chairs, as far as stern as they could, the two submarine boys conversed in low tones. Jack told all that had befallen him on shore.

Now, do you think we're on the trail of the smugglers, he asked? It's hard to say, Hal replied. Probably that pair on the schooner are up to some mischief, but it may merely be something that would interest the local police. alone. What are your plans? My main plan is to stay up tonight, Benson responded, since I failed to discover where that schooner went, and I'm going to find out what she brings back. That is, if she dumps any cargo here, Hal added. Of course, I haven't overlooked the fact that the schooner may put in somewhere else along the coast. Yet it would be hard to find a quieter landing

place than this. You may as well turn in, Hal, if you're sleepy, for I can hold the deck alone. I shan't turn in until I see that schooner heading in again. I won't turn in unless it's an order, Hal Hastings replied promptly. I can sleep any day or night, but it isn't every day that we have a clue to watch. I'll be glad enough of your company. If you can stand it out here in the wet, Jack Benson nodded. The rain is going to stop by and by, Hal answered, studying the sky. When the stars come out, it'll be fine here on deck, so I'll stay up as long as you do. By midnight, Hal's prediction of starlight was verified.

Calling to the watch to bring dry chairs, the two submarine boys, shed their rainclothes and enjoyed themselves. Yet at last, tired, nature began to assert herself. The young officers frequently found themselves nodding. At last Benson awoke with a start from what was probably a long nap. About a mile off on the water he made out a masthead light, also the red and green sidelights. Jack sprang to his feet to find Ensign Hal sleeping soundly. Running to the Conning Tower, Benson returned with a nightglass, which he turned on the incumbent.

vessel. That's the velvet, or I'm a Dutchman, he muttered, with another start. Then he crossed the deck, shaking his chum, eh, muttered Hal. The schooner's coming in. Hastings was on his feet in an instant rubbing his eyes. Then he reached for the marine glass. I'm going on shore, Jack informed his chum. In some way, I'm going to find out what that schooner's

carries for freight. Take me with you, Hal begged eagerly. You may be glad of help. Take you in uniform, Jack inquired with a quizzical smile. You might as well go in the revenue cutter service uniform. I'll show you how quickly I can hustle into sit-clothes, Hal promised. Hustle then, and wake F up, long enough to inform him, we're going ashore and leave him in command. Or F would be furious if he knew we left him here when going ashore to spy on smugglers.

Then don't tell him why we're going ashore, but hustle. Hal was back in change of costume in a wonderfully short time. In the meantime, Jack Benson had called the watch and had passed the word for a boat's crew to be called. By the time, therefore, that Ensign Hal was on deck, the boat's crew came tumbling up. The gig, which was once again a stern, since the submarine had been anchored once more, was brought hastily alongside, and the two young officers embarked. Pull quickly, and with as little noise as possible, Coxon, Jack directed. As soon as you've landed us, returned to the grant with all speed. Doused this light, Benson added, taking down a lantern that had been placed at the stern. Don't show any light at all. If the coxswain wondered why so much speed and secrecy

were wanted, he knew his place too well to ask any questions. Within a few minutes, from the time of first sighting the mast-headlight on the incoming craft, Jack and Hal were on shore. By this time the schooner was almost on the point of entering the little bay. We've got to leg it down the street, Hal, Vincent whispered to his chum, Then I hope there are no dogs loose to chase us and sample our legs, Hastings retorted. The little village of Box Haven at this time of the night was as quiet as any spot in a desert. All lights were out even at the bell air.

Fortunately, no dogs were abroad either, as the submarine boys raced down the street. So not much time was lost in reaching the Velvet's Pier. "'Of course we can't wait on the pier for them,' Jack whispered. "'There's that shanty up there, if it's vacant.' Hal answered, pointing to a shed across the road. "'It was a one-story affair, perhaps fifteen by twenty-five feet in dimensions. It had a tumble-down look, but it stood on higher ground,

almost across the road from the pier. "'We can take a quick look, but it may be inhabited. Jack went on after calculating that the schooner was now within half a mile of her pier. As they reached the door, Jack chuckled, or the door held a two-let sign. Now, you go around to the right, an eye to the left, Benson added. We'll see if there's some way to get inside.

This will make a fine watchbox if we can use it. A low whistle from Hal Hastings soon, called his chum around to the other side of the shed. Here's a window that isn't fastened, Hal whispered. In with you, then, I'll follow. Both were speedily inside and the window closed. They moved forward to the glass door. Now if this sun would only rise an hour and a half ahead of time, sighed Benson.

We'll be able to use our eyes in the darkness, the stars helping. Hal urged. Whatever cargo may be brought ashore, probably can't all be handled in one load. If they come ashore with anything, Jack suggested, you slip out the same window by which we entered Hal and trail along, keeping yourself shady, until you find where they stow the stuff.

Then I'll stay right here and watch for anything else that there may be to see. By degrees, as Hal had foretold, their eyes became more and more accustomed to the darkness. They saw the hazy hulk of the velvet round slowly in at her pier, sails a flap, and then beheld two men making the bow and stern lines fast. Things ought to be moving soon, if they're going to move, Hal Hastings breathed gleefully. Here come two men, Jack answered, and I believe they're carrying something.

They're fairly staggering under their loads, Al whispered back. Each must be carrying a heavy packing case on his back. Blazes, gasped Jack. An instant later, they're coming here. That indeed seemed to be the case. For now the two burden-bearers cross the road and began to climb the slope toward the shanty in which the submarine boys had so far. and hidden.

Duck for your window, Hal. Open it softly, breathe Jack. I'll be right behind you. Jack retreated as he saw the two burden-bearers come close to the door. But before he slipped away, he made out one to be, as he had supposed, the skipper.

While the other was Jake, Hal had started the window, and was prepared to raise it to the full extent. outside a key was heard in the padlock on the door. What's wrong? The submarine boys heard Jake ask. The key sticks. I'll keep on working it while you put the goods through that window without a catch.

Hurry up, ordered the skipper. Hal let the window down again, as he heard Jake trudging around the corner. Now we're finally caught, whispered Hastings. We can't get out without being seen, and we can't stay in here without having a fight on our hands. We mustn't have either. If we can help it, return Jack in a sharp whisper. See if we can't find someplace to hide. Hal started toward the rear of the shed.

Jack at his heels. Trip. One of Hal's feet caught against something on the floor. He would have measured his life. length, had not Jack bent forward and caught him. Don't do that again, Benson whispered, and hustle. See here, whispered back Hastings. Here's a hole in the floor. Desperately Benson bent forward to examine the hole in the darkness, for now Jake was close to the window. It looks like a trapdoor, Benson told himself in feverish haste. I believe it slides.

instead of raising. He pushed his hand against the edge to test it. Noiselessly the trap-door moved, as though on well-oiled bearings. Down there with you, whispered Jack, Rush, my boy, drop if there isn't a step. Jack followed just as Jake began to raise the unfastened window. Hal had found a flight of stairs.

So did Jack, who as soon as he found his head below the level of the floor quickly pushed the trap door shut. Bump, sounded the packing case, as Jake dumped it through the window. Under cover of the noise of Jake's entry, Jack Benson struck a match. The little flame showed them a cellar well filled with boxes.

It's the hiding place of the smugglers, throbbed Hal in his ear. It looks like, it Jack whispered, but we've got to hide behind the furthest boxes. I'll try to lead the way. Hold onto my co-tail and don't stumble or make any noise. They had reached the forward end of the cellar by the time that Jake, having lighted a lantern,

threw open the trap again and stepped on the stairs. Jack Benson drew his chum in behind a pile of box. boxes whispering in Hastings' ear. We're all right, I think. If we're not found here, but we'll be at a mean disadvantage if the rascals suspect that there's anyone hiding here. They'll hold all the tricks in their own hands.

End of Chapter 6, recording by John Brandon. This spring, Denham gets a softer, lighter update. Introducing Old Navy's Drapey Denham Wide Leg, a new fit that moves with you. It's everything you want denim to feel like for summer. Easy, breathable, and effortlessly cool. With a fit that creates natural movement and a wide leg that feels modern, not overwhelming. Plus, that signature, wait, for this price? Moment.

Old Navy's Drapey Denim Wide Leg. Chapter 7 of the Submarine Boys and the Smugglers by Victor G. Durham. This Libravox recording is in the public domain. Recording by John Brandon. Chapter 7. Playing flip-flop with danger. In the meantime, the skipper of the velvet had succeeded in opening the lock on the door. Stay where you are, Jake, he called in a low voice.

I'll pass the stuff down to you. Jake by now was on the cellar bottom. Having hung the lantern on a hook set in a post, From above, the skipper passed the two cases, one after the other, down to Jake, who stood near the foot of the stairs. Having done this much, the skipper after closing the trap overhead, came down to the cellar bottom.

I reckon we're poor housekeepers, Jake, declared the skipper. Speaking in a lower tone than usual, we'll have to straighten up all the stuff in this cellar, or we can't put much more in. What ails you, man? This last question was shot out sharply, for a rat had scurried among the boxes in the cellar making considerable noise. What have you got that pistol in your hand for?

The skipper went on. Jake, you're plumb nervous tonight. I know I am, has sent at the deckhand. Ever since we lost that chap overboard, I've been seeing dead men's faces. Bosch, cried the skipper angrily. Put that pistol up, Jake. The way you're handling that thing, you'll shoot me, the first thing you know.

I'd shoot my own father tonight if he slipped up behind me and scared me, Jake declared gruffly. Put that pistol up. You have no business carrying one. I notice you always carry one, Skipper, Jake retorted. Of course I do, but I'm not nervous. Came the dry answer, I carry a pistol so I can take care of revenue officers or spies of any kind. I don't mean ever to be spied upon or taken alive. But I'm safe with a weapon and you're not.

Put that pistol up, I tell you. Before I do that, Jake insisted taking down the lantern with his left hand, I want to search this cellar. I heard a noise. So did I jeered the skipper. but it was a rat and rats won't hurt men of our kind. Put that pistol up, I tell you, for the last time. If you want to search the cellar, you can do it by putting these piles of cases ship-shape.

Who'll bring up the cases, Jake asked. There were six more. True, I had forgotten that, admitted the skipper. Jake, you can bring up the cases and I'll straighten things here. If I left you here alone, I'd come back and find you shooting everything in sight full of holes. Don't shoot the schooner up when you get back, but hustle. I don't want to go down to that schooner alone in the dark, the deckhand insisted, quiver in his voice. See here, you idiot, snarled the skipper, grasping the younger man by the throat.

I've had enough of your nonsense. You get back to the schooner and just hustle. those cases up here. If I have any more nonsense out of you while the skipper didn't finish. Jake didn't wait for him, too, but dropped the lantern and darted up the stairs. Of all the fools, growled the skipper irritably.

I discharge him, but he knows too much about me. Now to see how this stuff here can be set more ship-shape, first of all, the forward end of this shore hold. Lantern and Skipper were now headed straight for the hiding place of the submarine boys. Worst of all, Jack, in the last peep he thought it wise to take, discovered that the gruff man of the sea was carrying his own revolver in his right hand.

In an ambush, if well managed, the submarine boys might succeed in downing this man and disarming him. But that would reveal their presence, which was exactly what Ben did. and did not want to do. At what he judged the proper instant, Jack nudged Hal, who slipped noiselessly over to his right, rounding a tier of boxes. Jack followed stealthily on his chum's heels, just as the skipper went around the other side of the tear. Thus far, they were safe from discovery, though there could be no telling, at what moment a false step might make a noise that must betray them. There was dim light throughout the cellar, though it was, of course, brighter in the near neighborhood of the lantern.

This row of boxes can be shoved back against the end of the cellar, muttered the skipper half aloud, after a short inspection of his surroundings. I'll start it now. Under cover of this noise, Jack and Hal cautiously slipped down the cellar along its northern side. On account of the dimness of the light, they had to go slowly. Then, too, the greatest care was needed in stopping their slow progress whenever the skipper paused and all was silent. It now looked like an easy matter to get out of the cellar,

and doubtless it would have been, but for a heavy tread overhead followed by the appearance of Jake on the stairs. "'Boss,' he called. "'Hello,' answered the Skipper, pausing in his work. "'Where do you want this case?' "'Drop it at the foot of the stairs. "'Wait, I'm coming.' "'Skipper and Light moved down to meet Jake.

"'At this instant Benson and Hastings "'were within a dozen feet of the foot of the stairs, "'crowching behind a low tier of boxes. "'You've got five more cases to get up?' asked the skipper, right. Hustle them along, I'll open this one. Hanging the lantern once more on the post-hook, the skipper picked up a hammer and cold chisel, soon prying half the lid from the top of the case Jake had just brought. I can finish this later, though, muttered the skipper, half aloud. It'll be better if I go above and watch Jake. He wouldn't have more sense

then to come right in with a big box, even if he met someone on the road at this hour of the night. Feeling to see that his revolver was in his right-hand coat pocket, the skipper next ascended the stairs, leaving the lantern on the hook. It's now, I guess, if ever, breathed Jack in his chum's ear, but we'll have to be mighty careful not to be seen or heard. As he reached the open box, however,

Benson could not resist the temptation to thrust his right hand inside the box. What he brought out was a smaller box. Havana cigars, he whispered, after studying the label on the box. Then he slipped it under his jacket. Isn't that almost stealing, whispered hell? Hardly. I'm taking it for evidence, also for another purpose that I'll explain to you by and by. Now follow me softly up the steps.

Jack went up in the lead until his head was almost through the trap. He had barely glanced above him when he heard the skipper turn and come back. There was just time for the submarine boys to slip down the steps on tiptoe. The skipper halted, however, before he came to the trap door. Jake was coming in. Put the case near the foot of the stairs, the submarine boys heard Redbeard say as they slipped back into their late hiding place a dozen feet away. Down came Jake with his heavy tread, bump, sounded the packing case as it landed on the floor. What are you hanging down there for, queried the gruff voice of the skipper as Jake lingered for an instant.

Fixing my suspender, grunted Jake. I'm coming now. As Jake left the shed, the skipper's tread could be heard above. On about the middle of the floor. If we get out of here, whispered Jack Benson gleefully in his chum's ear. Yes, Mocktale, if? If we do, Jack went on in his chum's ear, there'll be a box of fine cigars missing down here.

Jake lingered so his skipper will accuse him of having stolen it. That will stay. start suspicion and discord between the greater and lesser rascal. Not until Jake had trudged up with the last case did the skipper follow his deck hand below. Now that we've got everything up from the boat, said the skipper, we may as well bring out the straw and sleep here on the floor. When we've had a sleep, there'll be a lot of work to do, and even if I am the owner of this old shed, I don't want the village folks to see you and me going in and coming out of an empty shed

in broad daylight. They might wonder what we found to do in a place that everybody around here supposes to be empty. Get out the straw, Jake, and fix it, and we'll have a real sleep for a few hours. As he spoke, the skipper thrust a hand down into the case that he had already opened. Jake, he inquired, with sudden suspicion, did your suspender need much fixing? Not much, replied the deck, and I thought not, leered the skipper. But there's a box of cigars gone from this case. I didn't take it, flared up, Jake.

I'll talk to you about that after we've had our nap, replied the skipper grimly. Though Jake muttered savagely, both, presently, lay down on piles of straw just at the foot of the steps. Overhead the trap had been left open a little to give them air. Within two minutes, hours of hard work had driven both men into slumber. But the skipper stirred every now and then, like one accustomed to wake on the least alarm. Going to try it? asked Hal, knowing the thought uppermost in his chum's mind. Wait until I take a peep and see, whispered Benson in his chums nearer ear. As Jack glanced about, the sight did not especially please him.

Even though the lantern now burned dimly, the two men lay in such positions that it was going to be ticklish work to step over them and reach the stairs. Besides, each man lay with his revolver gripped in his right hand. It wouldn't be good for one's health to wake them too suddenly, young Benson muttered dryly to himself. Gonna try it? insisted whispering Hal. Hmm, wait a little. And see how wise it looks.

Not until five minutes later did Jack nudge his chum, then give a nod. We'll take a chance, whispered Jack. I'm willing to take one chance at anything. Hal told himself as he pivoted softly on his feet, prepared to follow his leader with the stealth of a cat. End of Chapter 7. Recording by John Brandon Chapter 8 of the Submarine Boys and the Smugglers by Victor G. Durham.

This Libra Fox recording is in the public domain. Recording by John Brandon. Chapter 8. Benson tries his hand at humor. Holding their breath, the chums advanced. The distance was short enough, but the danger agreed. It was not the danger to their own lives that disturbed the submarine boys most. Both knew what a sad blunderer, it would be to let this pair of rascals discovered that their secret was known.

For it was not this pair, first of all, that Benson had been set to catch. These men were but the tools of cleverer. rascals, who must be caught before any alarm could reach them. A step at a time, Jack moved. A step at the same time Al Hastings took. Both submarine boys were quivering from the importance of their task and the risk attached to any blunder at the present moment. Benson was about to step over Jake.

When that worthy turned slightly in his sleep, causing goose flesh to break out all over the young lieutenant who halted. Presently, Jake settled into deeper slumber without having awakened, nor had the skipper stirred lately, which might be all the more reason for imagining that he would stir very soon. Jake, in partly turning, had withdrawn his hand three or four inches from the butt of his revolver. Tempted more by mischief than any idea of increasing his own. safety, Jack Benson bent over, quickly picking up the weapon. Then his heart beating faster.

He stepped over, Jake, and placed a foot on the lower step. In another moment, he was halfway up the steps. Now he turned to Beck and Howe. As Hastings reached him, Benson motioned his chum to pass on up and out ahead of him. The trap door proved to be opened so little, and the danger of opening it more was so apparent that Hal had a tight squeeze of it in getting through. Once on the floor above, Hastings lay flat, reaching down and taking the pistol from his chum in order to cover Jack's escape in the event of the skipper awakening. After what seemed ages to the two quick-pulsed boys, Jack Benson was through and kneeling on the floor above.

Now for the window, and to get it open, whispered Jack, in his chum's ear, as he took the revolver again. I'll stay here and make sure that the skipper doesn't hear something, wake up and charge through the trap. I think a bullet, even if it goes wild, will cause him to duck below again. Hal presently had the window up, having made no noise. sufficient to disturb the sleepers below. He crept quietly out, and Jack, after glancing in that direction, tiptoed over and soon was on the ground outside.

Close the window, Jack directed. We can't leave it open, or they would at least suspect that someone had been prowling. So Hal closed the window, while Jack Benson slipped Jake's revolver back into his pocket. Then the pair stole swiftly away, for it was well past the coming of daylight, though no one appeared to be a stir in the little village. Their course took them directly to the pier, at which the Grant's gig usually landed.

A single blast-eyes whistle, and a wave of the hand to a sailor on the deck watch was sufficient. Within three minutes, a boat's crew was seen to tumble up on top on deck, then over the side into the gig. The oarsman bent lustily to their work. Jack and Hal, having hardly spoken and then only about the freshness of the morning, took their seats in the stern sheets of the gig. Very soon, they were on board. They went directly to the miniature wardroom after having locked the outer door of the passageway. Oh, wow, exploded. It exploded. the young lieutenant. His dignity flying to the winds for the moment. He rocked back and forth in his seat as he produced the revolver and the box of cigars and laid them on the table.

What's the joke? asked Hal, smiling. You're unusually thick, if you don't see, Benson replied, with another chuckle. You're in just one box of cigars. You don't smoke, and you have a contempt for those who carry firearms when they don't absolutely have to do it. Besides, there are plenty of weapons on board, as this is a warcraft. The cigars, you can only present to such of the sailors as smoke. Don't you see the point. Don't say that you don't, beg Jack Benson, going off into another spasm of laughter. I didn't mean this as humor, but it has suddenly struck me that it is a rich,

joke. I'm in the dark, sighed Hal. Why see here, chum, old Skipper Redbeard missed the box of cigars before he lay down to sleep. He hinted that Jake had stolen them, didn't he? He threatened to take that up with Jake as soon as he awoke. Now when Jake wakes up, he'll find his pistol gone. The Skipper had been roosting him about being too afraid and depending too much on his. pistol. What will be Jake's first suspicion? That Skipper Redbeard took it away from him while he was asleep. The skipper is already angry with Jake, and Jake is going to boil over at the skipper. Each will deny the other's accusations. The skipper is a bull-headed fellow, while Jake is sulky by nature. Can you see the royal amount of heart feeling that there will be

between them? Again, Jack laughed. This time, Hal with him. That was the only reason why I took Jake's pistol, Jack continued, just to start internal war in the enemy's camp. Oh my, I wish I could see and hear the row when it opens. The door from the stateroom passage opened, and F. Summers bounded in. "'What do you fellows make in all this racket for?' grumbled F. "'It has cheated me out of a good hour's sleep.' "'Mr. Summers,' demanded Benson, stiffing. "'Is this the proper manner in which to enter the presence of your commanding officer?' "'At attention, sir,' replied Ensign Summers, straightening up and saluting.

A grin overspread Jack's face, whereupon F. dropped into his own chair. "'You've been making purchases on shore, I see,' commented F, "'Iing the cigar box and the pistol.' "'No,' replied Hastings gravely. "'We stole these things.' "'From the enemy, the smugglers,' Jack added. "'Haven't you too been the busy little boys?' commented Insent Summers. "'Then you've really seen the smugglers.'

"'Have we?' demanded Hal. "'Jack tell him about it, and especially the way in which you have divided the smugglers' camp against itself. F listened. He began to grin when he heard how the cigars and the pistol came to be on the wardroom table. That'll start a row, all right, between Skipper Redbeard and his man Friday,

agreed F. Summers, I only hope it doesn't turn out to be such a big row that they separate, and then Redbeard doesn't dare smuggle any more, smugglings for fear that, said Jake, will go back on him and denounce him. Jack's face became instantly grave. He whistled. Then gradually his face cleared. No, I don't believe their row will split them, he went on. Both are probably making far more money at this job of theirs than they could make in any other way. So they'll hold together, but each will be more suspicious of the other after this.

They won't work in harmony with each other. Like you, F, I don't want to see that pair split for the present, not until they've led us to the really big offenders in this game. How about breakfast? asked Summers, glancing at his watch. You're in uniform, Hal and I should be. Jack replied, rising, F, while we're dressing, will you kind of, finally see the waiter and tell him what we want and that we want it as soon as it can be cooked.

While the waiter was passing in and out during the meal, not one of the three boyish young officers mentioned the smugglers. Pistol and cigar box have been locked away in a little cupboard on the wall. But after breakfast, F suggested, I wonder if the cigars are really any good. I know some folks to whom we might send them. So do I, replied Ben, Benson. To the Secretary of the Navy. Does he smoke? I haven't the least idea, but the cigars will have to go to him as evidence of what we have secured. If they are cigars,

suggested Hal mildly. By Jove, you're right about that, laughed Jack, rising and going to the little cupboard. Although it's a cigar box, we really haven't taken the trouble to make sure that it contains cigars. He brought the box out, placing it on the table, and with a knife blade, pried the lid up. Cigars all right, nodded if. Cigars, yes, Benson admitted, but we don't know that they're all right. The only way to find out, laughed Ensign Summers, would be to try one on a sailor. A sailor is a fine fellow, but no judge of cigars, smiled Benson, as he tapped down the box lid. A sailor will smoke anything, even a piece of tarred rope. And you two had all this fun on shore and never let me in on it? Grumbled F.

There had to be at least one officer on the boat, Benson replied. If you do anything in the matter today, begged Summers, Can't you let me have a hand in it? Certainly, promised Jack Dryley. Just now I'd be obliged if you would go up on the platform deck, and sit under the baby awning there. I want to write a letter. The instant his chums had departed,

Lieutenant Jack went over and seated himself by the typewriting machine. Putting on a sheet of official paper, the submarine boy began a lengthy letter to the Secretary of the Navy. In this he stated fully what he had learned to date and suggested very respectfully that if it met the views of the authorities at Washington, Secret Servicemen might be sent to Box Haven to trace all express shipments sent out from the shanty. The preparation of this letter took some time.

Jack addressed the envelope, then put in the letter sealing it. His next step was to wrap up the cigar box, addressing that also to the Secretary of the Navy. Then he rang for the waiter. My compliments to Mr. Summers and ask him to report. F came in saluting. You wanted a hand in today's doings, Jack hinted it? Yes, sir. All right, all we're going to do will be to mail this letter and this package to the secretary.

You may detail a sailor to carry the mailbag for you and see to it that these two articles are mailed. Say, isn't that a bit of a messenger-boy job for an officer of the Navy? asked Summers. not at all, when it is necessary to make sure that these have been mailed. The matter is so important that I don't care to entrust it to anyone below an officer's rank. Oh, that's all right, then, murmured F, but aren't you going to take any other steps, whatever today? Not before dark. There is nothing that we can really do. F found the Grant's mail pouch and secured letter and parcel inside, the pouch he turned over to a sailor to carry. I may as well go ashore in uniform, suggested F.

That's as you please, nodded Jack. So F was pulled shoreward in the gig. Jack, very sleepy, glanced at his watch, discovering that it was now ten o'clock. What's the use of being commander officer? he yawned, if I can't send myself to bed until luncheon time. But at that moment Hal Hastings entered, holding out a yellow envelope. A shoreboat brought this off, Hastings explained. I signed for it. Tearing open the envelope and glancing at the telegram, he discovered the message to be

in the ordinary code of the Navy. Drawing out his code book, pencil and paper, Jack Benson fell to translating. while Hal napped in his chair. "'Phew!' muttered Jack when he had finished and glanced at his translation. "'What's the matter?' asked Hal, waking up. "'Just what we had been expecting,' Jack replied, pushing the sheet of paper across the table.

Hal read these words bearing also the signature of the Secretary of the Navy. "'Expence, no longer justified by results, proceeds to Norfolk Navy Yard. Their report to department. End of Chapter 8. Recording by John Brandon. In Toronto, every arrival is a statement,

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Find out more at Cadillac canada.ca. Luxury sales claim based on S&P Global Mobility, Canadian New Vehicle Total Registrations for calendar year 2025 for the Cadillac definition of luxury. Chapter 9 of the submarine boys and the smugglers by Victor G. Durham. This Libra Vox recording is in the public domain. Recording by John Brandon. Chapter 9. Wireless wafts a wail of tragedy. What are you going to do about it?

Hal asked. His face paling. What is there for a Navy man to do but obey orders, Jack inquired? What? Just when we are succeeding, let all the credit go to the Secret Servicemen? Wait a little, smiled Jack, and I'll show you how I'm going to obey orders. Taking up a fresh sheet, he began to write. When he had finished, he picked up the code book, translating his dispatch into the code. Order to Norfolk received. Have just located Depot sought and no method of reaching coast.

Long letter just mailed. Also sample goods from Depot. We'll proceed Norfolk if your second wire confirms first, or if ordered, will wait arrival of men suggested in letter. Signed Benson. Lieutenant U.S. and. commanding. When Jack had finished translating into the code, he passed the original, in ordinary English over to Ensign Hall. I guess that will ensure our staying on this assignment

for the present, Benson smiled. It would grunt at hell if we were working for an ordinary business house. But no one can ever guess which way the Washington cat will jump. I shall be ready for Norfolk until a wire arrives changing orders. Mail matter posted, reported in St. Summers, coming in and dropping the mail pouch. Good, responded Lieutenant Jack. Now here is a telegram that you may take ashore and send. Hmm. The messenger boy business is brisk this morning, muttered F. You wanted a big hand in all they were going to do today, Jack smiled. And hurry back, advised Hal.

We're about to weigh anchor for Norfolk. What's that? asked F, turning sharply. He heard the news with utter indignation. Ordered back? When we've just gotten next to our job? Blurted Ensign F. Summers. That's what I call All in the line of duty broke in Lieutenant Benson quietly.

If the second wire confirms the first, But the telegram you hold is in line with this, adding the young commander, handing F the sheet containing the first draft in ordinary English. We'll go to Norfolk despite that telegram Hal predicted. Yes, we may as well check our baggage to Norfolk, grunted Summers. Even if we do have to drop the case now, Jack argued, we found the trail for the Secret Servicemen, and that is more than they were able to do in some months of trying. I'll be ten minutes late in returning, grunted F.

I'm going to take the last chance this side of Norfolk of putting two ice cream sodas under my uniform belt. Want to come, Hal? Mr. Hastings would be overjoyed, replied Jack, speaking for his other junior, but he is now going forward to inspect the engines, in order to make sure that they're in order for the Ranjanofok was Vincent F.'s parting growl as he left the wardroom. Mr. Summers, Jack called after him, sir, responded F. returning and saluting. What's your full capacity in the way of ice cream sodas? I don't know, Summers answered, never worked it out. One day, I remember I put away 18, but I wasn't filled up. Then if you really want more ice cream sodas,

I authorize you to remain on shore. Until the rival of the department's answer to that wire. Say, that's fine, glowed F, and fell to counting his money. Can I lend you any cash, smiled Jack. Thank you, no. I've $60 left from my last month's pay. If that won't buy all the sodas I can use, at least it'll buy all that I ought to have. Four minutes later, F. Summers was once more at the landing pier. Two hours later, Summers returned bearing a yellow envelope which he handed the young commander.

I've had enough ice cream sodas to last halfway to Norfolk, have announced. I'll go to station and be ready to get underway. Better wait until I see what the orders are, Jack replied, opening the envelope. Why, it's in ordinary English. All it says is await further orders at present anchorage. Your dispatch must have given the secretary something to think about, F. Grinned. I'm in hopes the department would let us go through with this matter, was all Benson had to say, as he locked the telegram away. Ensign Hall reported the engines in perfect working order.

That's as it should be, nodded Jack. A Navy Craft's engines should be ready to start on the instant, for one never knows when the call to instant duty may come. luncheon being served, the young officers had little to do for the afternoon. Jack, in fact, lay on his birth, sound asleep, after the sleepless night, when there came a knock on the door jam of his stateroom. Pushing back the curtain, Benson saw the gunner's mate with right hand at salute. Mr. Hastings compliments, sir, and he instructed me to report that a black-looking squall

is coming up out of the east. Thank you, mate. I'll be on deck directly. Quickly drawing on his shoes, adjusting his collar and buttoning his uniform blouse. Jack, cap in hand, made for the platform deck. It looks like a live one coming. Hal smiled, pointing seaward. Yes, but I fancy it'll give us very little trouble, Jack replied. This bay is fairly well protected. However, order one of the engine room post to his station so that we may start speed at once if we break loose from moorings. Very good, sir. Jack remained on deck, standing at first, and watching the oncoming weather. It looks like more than a brief squall, Ventrodens and Hal, returning from below. It does indeed, Benson agreed, but you need maintained besides the engine room only the usual deck watch. I shall be on deck most of the time. Being still tired, Benson dropped into a deck chair, though he fought against any more

napping for the present. Within an hour, the storm broke. Even in advance of the arrival of the wind, great white-capped comers could be made out a few miles to the eastward. Then the wind broke loose, coming at first at the rate of 50 miles an hour, but soon increasing to 70. Rain fell for a couple of hours. Even after it ceased, the wind continued, scarcely abating in velocity. At the outburst of the gale, Jack had summoned Hal Hastings. Run up our aerials and put one of the wireless men at the instrument he commanded. Some craft may be in distress, and we want to catch any message that may be flying. Within the bay, the water, though rough, was not so.

rough, but that a shore boat might be operated with safety by a skilled oarsman. Out on the broad Atlantic, however, the waves were running high and with fury. It'll be a rough time for any sailing vessel too close to shore, F remarked, coming upon Jack, who in rainclothes had returned to the deck just before six o'clock? That's why I had the aerial put up, replied Benson, nodding to the jointed, hollow metal pole that had been rigged in place just behind the tower. This jointed metal pole, in three sections, could be run up to a total height of 31 feet.

On account of the fury of the wind, however, Hal had sent the pole but 25 feet in the air. Even as it was, the gale blew against the aerial pole with such force as to make the little grant quiver. Dinner will be ready in 15 minutes, Jack added. You see how secure our position has been in this little bay? At the height of the gale. Even we didn't strain seriously at the moorings cable.

There's a shoreboat putting off, reported F approaching his brother officers. I can't help feeling that it's a telegram for us. The boat came alongside rode by two men while a third sat at the tiller. As he came nearer, the helmsman held up a yellow envelope. Come up close, under our lee side shouted Benson through a megaphone. Don't want to scrape your paint, called back the helmsman. I don't care about the paint, Jack shouted back. I don't want to see you capsize.

Human lives are worth more than paint. So the helmsman obeyed, coming up in the lee, where his boat was safer, both from wind and sea. Sign for us, Mr. Summers, called Jack, as he reached over and received the envelope. Then Benson hurried to the tower, where an electric light burned. The telegram is from the department, and in English, he added, as his two brother officers stepped into the tower to hear the news. Phew! He went on breathlessly. The Brown G-line steamship, Cynthia, is in great, distress. She has sent in a wireless, which was relayed to Washington. Here are the latitude and longitude given. She's about 200 miles east of here. Propeller shaft broken and sprung a leak.

All hands at pumps, but can keep afloat only a few hours longer. Six hundred and forty human lives on board. First boats launched swamped with no loss of life, but captain does not dare launch more boats until sea becomes calmer. Boats enough left for only about 250 of those on board, even if boats may be launched safely. Department orders us to hasten to scene at fullest speed. Other craft ordered to this scene, but the department believes we can get there at least two hours ahead of any other vessels. We're ordered to save all life possible. Mr. Summers. Here, sir,

lash the gig to deck astern, like lightning. Call all hands to help. We may lose the gig, but we want it if we can get through the gale with it. Then order all hands below,

after loosing from moorings and getting underway. Take the conning tower, watch yourself with the helmsman. Take due east course until order is changed. Mr. Hastings, stand by the engine room watch

and see that we get the whole of our 30-mile speed. Mr. Summers detained the shoreboat until my answer to the department is ready. As the two junior officers sprang to obey their orders and the sailors came swarming up through the tower, Benson stepped aside, taking out fountain pen and paper. He sent this dispatch back to the department

at Washington. We start as soon as this wire goes over the side. Hope to reach steamship Cynthia before one o'clock in the morning. We'll save every life possible. This telegram, the young submarine commander, handed in person to the messenger from shore. In the meantime, F with the full crew had hauled the gig on board, overturned it, and was now engaged in lashing it in place,

bottom uppermost. The oars and rollocks were taken below. Within five minutes the cast-off was made. As Lieutenant Jack passed through the cabin, he called to the sailor at the wireless instrument. Operator, try to get some wireless station and report to the Navy Department that the grant is underway. Very good, sir.

Just as the operator secured the attention of a station up the coast, the throb of the grant's two propeller show, was felt. Telegram in hand, Jack went into the wardroom, followed by Ensign Howe. Out onto the table, the charts were drawn. Working with his instruments, Jack Benson located the exact position given for the Cynthia. Then he determined the course to a nicety, and took the result to F. It's going to be a fearful night's work, quivered Ensign Howe, when Jack returned to the wardroom. 400 people on that steamship, for whom there are no boats. We have a gig that may hold 12 or 15, and can possibly crowd 60 or 70 people on board here.

We must see the rest drown if we reach the Cynthia before she goes down. I shall be heartbroken, replied Lieutenant Jack Benson, compressing his lips grimly. If we can't perform the impossible and save every huge. human life that is in danger on the Cynthia. End of Chapter 9. Recording by John Brandon. Chapter 10 of the Submarine Boys and the Smugglers by Victor G. Durham. This Sleeper Fox recording is in the public domain, recording by John Brandon. Chapter 10. On the scene of an ocean disaster.

How are you going to do that, asked Hal ungrudulously. I don't know, Jack Benson answered, leaning back with a look of stern determination. I only know that I feel more awake than I ever felt before in my life, and I know, too, that the spirit is surging within me tonight to attempt the impossible without a trace of fear of misgiving. Also, and further, I know that I have two as capable brother officers with me as the American Navy contains. Is that answer enough for you? It ought to be, Hal Hastings answered, his face glowing, for I've seen you do the impossible before. But I can't do it alone, Jack went on.

You and F will have to back me tonight, as even you never backed me before. I'll go to the bottom cheerfully, if that will help to save the life of any woman or child on board that doomed steamship, said Hal simply. I know you will, agree Jack warmly, grasping his chum's hand. That's the spirit of the American Navy in all times of stress or danger. But Hal, going to the bottom, in this angry sea, won't accomplish anything. You've got to be on your feet, clear-headed and active. Let us see how many we have to depend on.

The cruise cook and our cook, the cruise waiter and our waiter, four men from whom we can expect nothing, for tonight's work will be out of their line. Three men on the engine room watch, but they are needed at their station, a gunner's mate and 12 seamen, all of them as fine men as the Navy holes. And three officers,

Sixteen of us to do the real work tonight. Jack and Hal remained in the wardroom for the present. No officer or man was allowed on the platform deck, over which huge waves were now rolling. They were not needed in the conning tower, for Ensign F. Summers was there with the helmsman, and Summers could do full duty there. Hal had inspected the engines and had found them running without,

hitch. Presently, however, Lieutenant Benson climbed to the conning tower. Have you been using the searchlight, Mr. Summers, he inquired. Not after leaving the coast three miles behind, sir, F answered. We don't want to wreck ourselves on any other craft by a collision. Jack went on, don't be too sparing of the searchlight. I will send up a man to serve it for you. Very good, thank you, sir. It's tough, just waiting and

wondering whether we're going to be on time, or whether we're going to arrive too late to rescue those poor souls, quivered Hal, who was strongly sympathetic by nature. I'm going to do all my worrying and trembling when I reach the spot, laughed Benson shortly. As there's simply nothing for us to do now, I move that we sit down to dinner. Dinner? Echoed Hal, almost aghast. Yes, we may have a mighty wet time of it before we get through. Plenty of nourishment will warm the blood and tend to ward off chill.

It's half-past six now, and we can't reach this Cynthia for more than six hours yet, so we may as well fortify ourselves. Come into the wardroom. Dinner can be served at any moment, sir, announced the mess-waiter, meeting the pair of young officers at the doorway of the passage. Then serve it at once, Jack replied. Though the grant was staunch and need not fear shipping water, she was rolling and pitching not a little.

On the wardroom table, racks had been fastened to keep dishes from sliding to the floor. I feel guilty to be eating, declared Hal. when I think of the hundreds of terror-stricken people on the Cynthia. We're going to eat, Benson replied simply, that we may have more strength for the fine work we're praying we may be able to do before daylight. At first, Hastings couldn't find his appetite. Gradually, however, he began to eat with more relish.

The young lieutenant, however, made a hearty meal from the first. Now you'd better go and relieve F. Jack advised at the end of the meal. F. Will want something in his stomach, too. Ensign Summers obeyed the call with alacrity. Through the night the engines continued to do full duty, yet it seemed to Lieutenant Benson that never had he known the hours to drag so slowly.

The short reach of the Grant's wireless apparatus worried him, on account of the low height of the aerials, The submarine boat could not send much beyond 30 miles, though she might pick up messages sent from a somewhat greater distance. At 11 o'clock, Benson halted beside the seaman at the instrument. From now on, operator, send the call Cynthia every five minutes, until you pick that vessel up. Very good, sir.

Jack took a seat in the crowded cabin, not far from the wireless instrument. Hal pacing, restlessly, at last joined his young commander. The unemployed sailors huddled by themselves. There was little conversation. At half-past seven the operator reported, I think, sir, that some vessel is trying to reach us. Can't you make out anything? demanded Lieutenant Jack leaping to his feet. "'No, sir, you can hear the feeble sound from the instrument.

"'It must be the Cynthia,' Jack guessed. "'Then her dynamo must have given out, "'and her operator is working from the accumulators, "'which must be very weak, sir,' replied the seaman operator. "'Keep on trying,' directed Jack Benson, Tursley. "'At a quarter to twelve, the operator reported, "'here comes the word Cynthia, but it's feebly spelled, sir.

Keep flashing back the answer, then. Jack ordered eagerly, his face, breaking out in smiles. Thank goodness, she's still afloat. Tell the Cynthia, too, to send up rockets from now on and to burn Koston lights for our guidance. She's still afloat, then, quivered Hansen Hastings joyously, as his chum turned. Though he appeared cool, Jack Benson could no longer wait below.

He climbed to the Conning Tower, taking his station beside F. By this time the sea was running with much less violence than it had been at the time of their start. There was every evidence that the water would continue to grow calmer. A few minutes after Jack reached the tower, some of the stars began to show, But Benson had no eyes for stars. He was watching for rockets. There's one, F, he cried presently. I see it, nodded in Sommers. Shall I change the course and go straight for that rocket?

Of course. From now on, they made out a rocket nearly every minute. It was plain sailing as to the course. At last, the Koston lights came into view. In the meantime, the wireless man below was trying to keep the ill-fated steamer informed of the Grant's approach. Jack suddenly laid hands on the apparatus controlling the searchlight. This he turned up, against the sky, signaling by flashes in the Morse alphabet. Good cheer, with you in a little while, coming at full speed. I can almost hear the poor fellows cheering, smiled Jack Benson, turning to F. Now I'm going below to get into rough service clothes.

Shall I, sir? inquired F. Summers, no, remain at this post until we've done all that is possible yonder. Going below, Jack called on Ensign Hal to follow him and get into rough clothing. But their blouses and uniform caps remained in sight, proclaiming them to be naval officers. Drop a revolver into your pocket, Hal. Jack called from his stateroom. I hope we won't have to use any such murderous weapon, though. Then Jack stepped out, followed by his chum. Gunner's mate, Lieutenant Benson summoned sharply, pick out the six best men at boat handling,

and arm them all with rifles and 30 rounds in belts. I shall take you and the men for boats' crew, if we find the gig fit to launch. Before long, the hull of the Cynthia, a 6,000-ton boat, now low in the water, loomed up clearly ahead under the glare of the submarine's searchlight. She was drifting nearly helplessly. A trysail on the foremast supplied the only steerage way that the doomed craft could use. From the bilge pumps came constant streams of water, showing the only means by which the stricken vessel had been kept afloat through the long hours of the

night. All this, Lieutenant Jack Benson studied by the aid of glass and searchlight, as the grant covered the last two or three miles of distance lying between the two craft. Go as close as you can, under what lee there is. Benson ordered Ensign Summers, I shall want to megaphone the captain, if possible. Yet it was not wise to go too close. The Cynthia might roll, pitch, and then dive below at any moment. The night had now cleared, and the sea had become almost calm when Lieutenant Jack ordered the after door of the conning tower opened. He stepped outside, followed by the gunner's mate and the six sailors. Don't display your rifles more than you can help men. Jack called to them. Leave them in the tower until we see whether the gig may be safely launched.

If not, mate, the Cynthia will have to reach us with one of her own boats. Hundreds of white faces could now be made out along the rail of the steamship. The remaining boats hung at the Davids. plainly, the steamship's captain was waiting to confer ere he took any new step. Hal, who had followed his commander, stood by saying nothing, his breath coming quick and fast. The steamship's electric lights burned feebly, yet they gave some illumination to the scene. Evidently, the fires under the boilers had already been drawn,

and the lights were drawing only on the current left in storage batteries. As the submarine began to close in on the other craft, Benson suddenly beheld a surging rush toward one of the lifeboats. Then the flash of revolver fire showed against the night. Though the report did not reach the Navy men, a man dropped before the pistols fire, one of the ship's Chinese waiters, as the submarine boys afterwards learned.

The panic aboard must be fearful when men try to rush the lifeboats with rescue in sight, Jack declared. The poor wretches know that this little craft can't hold them all, and some Hal Hastings replied mournfully. End of Chapter 10, recording by John Brandon. Chapter 11 of the submarine boys and the smugglers by Victor G. Durham. This Libravox recording is in the public domain. Recording by John Brandon.

Chapter 11. Women and children, first. I think the gig is all right, sir, report of the gunner's mate saluting. We have her free. all ready to launch. Stand by to launch, then, ordered Jack. F in the meantime was trying to run in close enough for megaphone hailing. Don't go any closer, Lieutenant Jack ordered at last. Picking up his megaphone, he hailed the foundering steamship.

Her reply came back, but what it was none on the submarines deck could make out. I'll have to give that up, Benson muttered. We'll have to go alongside in the gig if possible. Gunners may try to launch the gig. This was accomplished, the gig floating in the lee of the grant, and showing herself to be still seaworthy. The oars were passed up from below, the seamen securing their rifles,

and taking their places in the boat. Give way, directed Benson, after he and Hal had taken their places. The gig had never been intended for very rough water. It bobbed about like a cockle shell, even though the sailors bent to the oars and sent her skimming over the water. The hundreds on the Cynthia's deck watched anxiously as F turned the searchlight on the gig and the surrounding waters, ever-shifting the light as the gig advanced. That boat will be sunk. It can't live, went up the terror-stricken show,

from the watchers on the liner. Many a sea was shipped. It looked as if the gig must found her, or she was not fitted with airtight compartments to keep her afloat when flooded. White-faced but stern, with jaw set, and eyes peering straight ahead, the coxswain put all his skill into play.

A wave bigger than the others was coming. It seemed certain that the gig would be caught and engulfed. Give way harder, yelled the coxon. He turned to watch the wave. Just before it reached them, the coxen turned the bow of the boat, riding to meet the wave.

In another instant the small craft was atop the wave and riding it in brief safety. Another hard spurt of pulling, the coxon steered the boat in where the hull of the sinking liner would shield it from the worst of the waves for a while. Splendidly done, Adams, glowed Lieutenant Jack. Thank you, sir, replied the coxswain, still keeping his eyes on his work.

Boat, ahoy, roared a voice from the promenade deck. If you can live there a minute, I'll have the side gangway loaded. Never mind that, throw us a line, sir, two lines, Jack Benson shouted back. Down came a swirling rope aimed for the bow. Gunner's mate Crystal caught it. A second came from the stern. Benson made it his by right of capture. Up he went hand over hand,

along the rope with the agility and sureness of a sailor, while the gunner's mate did the same with the other line. The seamen followed their rifles slung over their backs. Hal followed Lieutenant Jack, only the coxswain remained in the boat. It was his to care for. Where is the captain, Jack Benson called, as soon as his feet slipped over the rail? Here, replied a gray-haired man stepping forward. Why, your commander is sent only a midshipman.

I am the commander of the grant, Jack replied quietly. I am Benson, junior lieutenant, U.S. Navy. Why, you look to be only a boy, stammered. "'Captain Drew.' "'Perhaps that's all I am, sir.' Jack smiled. "'This is my second-in-command, sir, Ensign Hastings.' Captain Drew grasped a hand of each,

at the same time hurriedly, introducing himself. "'How long do you think you can keep a float?' Benson asked. "'Not more than two or three hours, probably,' replied Captain Drew. "'This word was heard by the crowding passengers, and passed back through the throng. A wail of panic and terror went up. Then the throng started to surge forward for the lifeboats. Ready men, Jack called quietly.

Unsling your rifles. Open magazines. Load magazines. Close magazines. Now, men, understand me. You will aid Captain Drew and his ship's officers in loading the life. boats. Remember, women and children first. If you see any man trying to rush a place in any of the boats, shoot him on the spot, and without an instant's hesitation. No true man will try to steal a woman's

seat in a lifeboat, but some dastardly coward may. And if he does, he deserves to die instantly. That is the law of the sea in time of wreck. Women and children first. If there are seats left, then the men may be provided for. But any man who tries to deprive a weaker being of a seat may be killed remorselessly. No law will punish the slayer. Lieutenant, I thank you for bringing armed men there needed,

cried Captain Drew, in a voice husky with a motion. We've a good many American and Englishmen on board. They're helping the crew with a hearty goodwill to man the pumps and keep us afloat a little longer. But we've a foreign horde aboard also, some of the scum of the earth, and many of them armed. They've tried to rush the lifeboats already, and that was why I haven't all my boats over the side. my officers have shot down three men already for heading rushes. We just killed a Chinaman for that trick before you came alongside. Then Captain Drew gave orders to his mates to lower the boat.

A seaman from the grant went with each mate, stationing himself by a boat ready to shoot any man who entered a boat without authority. See here, you young Jack in uniform, You've no right to keep anyone out of a boat who can get in one. Bald, a hoarse-voiced man, crowding close. From your speech, you might be an American, hinted Jack Coley. I am, and just as much an American as you are. You've no right to keep me out of a boat.

If you claim to be an American, Lieutenant Benson retorted hotly, then you lie. I don't care where you're. were born. Any real American has at least a boy's share of courage about him. There are men back of me who mean business stormed the fellow who had insisted that he was an American. If you try to stop us, we'll rush you and throw you overboard. Turning, the fellow called out in some foreign tongue. There was a wild surging forward. Women shrieked as they were trampled, on. Benson drew his revolver, Hal, doing the same. But Jack switched his pistol into his left hand,

leaping forward and felling the self-proclaimed American with a force that nearly broke the rascal's jaw. Understand me, roared Benson. Any fellow who doesn't behave himself like a man won't even be alive to know when this ship goes down. Captain Drew had also drawn his revolver. Gunners-made Crystal darted in among the crowding wretches, shoving his rifle muzzle in face after face. The cowardly gang gave way with a sullen roar of fear. Women and children forward, shouted Captain Drew. Come just as you are.

We'll do no choosing. How many women and children are there on board, sir? Lieutenant Venson asked. 388. You can't get them all in the boats, sir. I know it, confessed Captain Drew. We'll take all we can on the grant. How many can you take there?

Not more than 70, even packing them like sardines. One woman in the crowd did some quick mental arithmetic. You can't save us all then, she cried. drawing back. I'll give up my chance to some mother with children. Madam, my hats off, blowed Lieutenant Jack, turning and suiting the action to the word. But every woman and child on board is going to be saved if this ship holds up a little longer. I promise you that. You take your seat in this first boat without hesitation, and I'll send you aboard the grant, where you'll be dry and have hot coffee. Though the young woman protested, Jack half-led, half-dragged her to the boat.

Step along lively called Captain Drew standing by the boat, pistol in hand, first choice to women with children. Mates were loading the other boats. A quartermaster was sent to call men enough away from the pumps to attend to lowering the boats. One after another, the lifeboats were lowered, the tackle cast-off, and the boats, short-handed as to order. in order that more women and children might be carried were pulled away. Now come on, you men, Jack Benson called at the top of his voice. Those of you who know the lingo of any of these foreigners interpret for me. Bring up all the doors you can. If they stick, break them from their hinges. Bring the doors to deck, and I'll show you how we'll get away,

if we have luck. Captain Drew, you have a carpenter, on board? Yes, and to assistants, replied the captain. Send for them on the jump. Tell them to bring inch and a half bits and augurs. What? Get the carpenters here on the jump, sir, if you please. Jack called as he turned to dart away to oversee the bringing up of doors. Have other men round up all the inch rope you can get. All the boats were away by this time. except the gig, which the lonely coxswain was making heroic efforts to keep afloat. This is all right for you, you naval officer, yelled a man hidden in the crowd. When you get tired or scared, you can go back to your craft and be safe.

My man, Jack shouted back wholly, I give you my word that I won't seek safety while there's anyone else left on this wreck. That promise brought a cheer from the more manly ones. End of Chapter 11. Recording by John Brandon. Chapter 12 of the submarine boys and the smugglers by Victor G. Durham. This labor of vox recording is in the public domain. Recording by John Brandon.

Chapter 12. Jack promises to save himself last. By now the cream of the mail passengers, the real men on board, came piling up from below, where they had been at work at the pumps. Captain Drew had sent for them. Jack shouted out his directions for bringing doors on deck. These tired men from the pumps responded with a ready will. Last of all came the remaining members of the crew from the pumps, which were now abandoned. slam, slam, slam. Doors were being dropped to the deck everywhere.

The carpenter and his assistants came running with the bits and augurs. Captain, cried Jack, running up. Attend to getting your side gangway down. We shall need it. Then he flew back to the carpenters. He instructed them to drill two holes in each end of every door. Some of you seamen come forward with the rope. Lieutenant Benson called

Reve ropes through these holes Lash 12 doors to each set So that the doors will be tied end to end Rush, for we may have but little time left As you reeve make knots So as to leave a somewhat loose line Over the top of each door These ropes over the tops of the door

Will do to hold to When the doors are loaded with human beings As fast as the carpenter, or one of his assistants, showed signs of weariness, some of these calm-eyed American men, who had been below at the pump, took their places with the bits. In a very few moments the first chain of twelve linked and lashed doors was ready. A towing rope was fastened to the foremost one. Step up lively men, lieutenant Jack called, shoulder these doors in order. and dumped this queer-looking raft over the rail. We'll hold it by the towing line so it won't get away.

Ensign Hal and Gunner's mate Crystal took the towing line, running with it to the head of the side gangway. Seeing and understanding the move, young Benson waved an arm toward his own armed jackies, who, comprehending, ran also to the head of the gangway, turning the muzzles of their loaded rifles on it. The storm of protest went up, but Jack Benson recognizing several of the men passengers

who had spent so much time at the pumps, rapidly picked them out, pressing them forward and passing them through the line of rifles. Pass down quickly, gentlemen, Jack begged, we want to rush each raft away. Each door in the chain held an average of three men who were obliged to kneel and hold on to the ropes provided. Their weight was likely to be enough to hold the doors right side up. Let the gig get in there, Lieutenant Benson shouted down over

the water. Captain Drew, I'll have to ask you to furnish six oarsmen from your crew to work the gig. The sailors were quickly in place, going down over the side by the line up which Lieutenant Benson had climbed. They brought the gig around to the head of the raft, taking the tow line aboard. Mate Crystal made fast another line for hauling the doors of the raft past the side gangway. Don't fill that raft up with men, begged one American passenger, crowding forward. Lieutenant, don't you know that there are still women and children standing back there, mute and patient? Yes, Benson nodded. I'm thinking of their safety.

If anything happens to this first raft, I want a profit by experience and make the next ones more secure. Fall too lively there. Boar, bore, bore! Reave the ropes through. We want the next raft ready and half the time it took to make the first one. Hal now took his stand by the men who were fitting the rafts together out of stateroom and other doors.

Jack had time to step to the rail, mopping his brow and letting the breeze blow on his face. As he stood there, he saw the gig crawl out to the Grant, aboard which the line was made fast. Ensign F. Summers at a Jackie on board the Grant had crawled astern over the uncertain footing of the deck beyond the platform deck.

There they received the line and made it fast. Once more, the searchlight of the submarine played over the doomed Cynthia. As soon as the first raft had been filled, Jack himself waved the go-ahead signal. Slowly the grant pulled away, drawing after it the string of doors with men still clinging desperately. His heart in his mouth, young Benson keenly watched the outcome. but none of the doors was overturned by the waves though the crouching men were all drenched to the skin they managed to hold on for their lives another raft ready called a voice clear the way and we'll drop it overboard back for a few moments called lieutenant benson turning and waving them away here come two of the life-boats which have transferred the women and children to the submarine Bring the rest of the women and children forward, let them pass down the side gangway to the boats as they come alongside.

Some of you strong-armed men assist them down, but remember that any man who takes a seat in either boat will be shot by my men for his trouble. Several of the selfish males who had crowded forward to aid the women and children down the gangway dropped back on hearing that. There were plenty of American men passengers, however, to volunteer, who would not be cowardly enough to try to steal prompt safety for themselves. The two returning lifeboats were speedily filled, but there were still a pathetic group of women left behind. All women who had children had finally passed to boats. Those who had no children, and who had not yet left, acted with as much courage as did any of the men. Jack watched until the lifeboats had pulled clear. Now tumble over that raft, he called, and get others ready as quickly as you can. Gunners, mate? See that there is no crowding or fighting. Remember what your men have rifles for. By this time,

even those who would have stolen safety, had they dared, were wholly convinced that it would mean only swift death at the hands of the stern-eyed men of Uncle Sam's Navy, so they held back waiting to be called when Lieutenant Jack Benson deemed that their turn had come. Overboard went the second raft. Men passed down swiftly, but in order, to take their places on the doors. The tow line was thrown to the gig, which hovered nearby. This line was carried out and made fast to the rear end of the first raft. A third and fourth raft were quickly ready, now all hands, even the most selfish and worthless of the male self-seekers aboard, were working with a will. At the addition of each raft to her string, the grant moved a little further away. Lieutenant,

"'You're doing magnificent work,' murmured Captain Drew in Benson's ear. "'It couldn't be better. "'We've got the last of the women and children off anyway, sir,' "'Lieutenant Jack replied. "'It's been a fearful night for me.' "'I can believe that well enough, sir.' "'I've been proud of my fellow Englishman,' continued Captain Drew. "'They've behaved like men, every one of them.

"'I trust, sir, you can't. can say as much for your American men passengers. I didn't think it necessary to speak of the grit of the Americans aboard, replied the Englishman simply. In our country, we take the invariable grit of an American for granted. While the fifth raft was being filled, the Cynthia's deck began suddenly to slope forward at an alarming degree of pitch. She's sinking by the bow, went up the frenzy shout.

out in many tongues. Then, seemingly losing all control of themselves, the more cowardly ones rushed the little group of Jackies. Shoot fast, if you have to men, shouted Lieutenant Benson. For only another moment did the frenzied crowd seem defiant. Then slowly, they gave back. That's all right for you, Lieutenant, Rosa Voice. At the last moment you'll save your skin and a lot of us to go to the bottom. The scoundrel who says that lies, flashed Lieutenant Jack Benson. I have already promised to save myself last. End of Chapter 12, recording by John Brandon. Chapter 13 of the Submarine Boys and the Smugglers by Victor G. Durham. This Lieber Vox recording is in the public domain. Recording by John.

John Brandon. Chapter 13. A glorious bit of work. The forward settling of the Cynthia continued alarmingly. Don't you think, Lieutenant, we'd better throw the remaining doors overboard without roping and pass the call every man for himself? No, sir, the submarine boy answered promptly. But our bow may go under, at any moment now. Yes, sir, but if we throw the unlashed doors overboard and tell the men to jump, a lot will be drowned. We'd better take a chance of saving more. Very well, said the English sea captain.

You haven't lost a ship tonight. I have, or am about to, your head is clearer than mine, lieutenant. Hal was rushing the men who were building the rafts. yet he saw to it that none of the roping work was slighted. A flaw anywhere in the roping might yet cause great loss of life. This, Hastings shouted to the workers as he encouraged them to greater speed. Three more rafts were quickly over, then others followed. Now the decks were being rapidly cleared.

As the last string of lashed doors was moved into place, there remained only three passengers, Captain Drew, his first officer, and the submarine boy's own naval party. The gig was already carrying the tow line, all passed down in orderly fashion, until only Benson and Captain Drew remained at the head of the gangway. Come, sir. And please be quick, urged Jack, resting a hand on the old sailing master's arm. A British captain goes down with his ship, replied Captain Drew sadly. Here's one who doesn't scoff Jack, tightening his hold. Come, sir, don't delay us. Everyone else is off the ship.

I'm going to follow the tradition and sink with my ship, insisted Captain Drew. Goodbye, Lieutenant, and thank you. Thank you for the magnificent work you've done here tonight. You're coming down with me, sir, Jack insisted. If you don't, and if you don't start down this instant, I shall recall four of my men to seize you and hustle you down to safety. The English sailing master saw that his young American friend meant every word of it. At least, Lieutenant, precede me, he begged. I should be the last to leave my ship. I'll grant you that, sir, at the bottom of the gangway,

if you'll precede me down to the water. Hurry, cried Ensign Hal stoutly. If you don't, we shall be drawn down by the suction when the ship goes under. She's settling like a ton of lead. Hurry, or we can't get away. Come, sir, Lieutenant Benson insisted. Don't imperil others.

Captain Drew, like one in a trance, yielded to this insistence. He went down the steps in a daze, true to his promise. Jack passed by him at the foot, stepping to a door. Come now, Captain, he insisted sharply. Your promise. Don't put others in peril. Captain Drew obeyed, stepping onto a door, sinking to his knees and gripping at a line. Jack was beside him, keeping a a sharp lookout that this man did not yield to the impulse to roll overboard and go down with

his doomed ship. The signal was passed ahead and the grant pulled onward. It was fearfully slow work, for the grant was towing a drag for which she had never been intended. While they were getting away, the gig moved to a point in the line of rafts taking off eight women. All the added passengers that the light gig could hold with safety. There she goes, cried a voice. A babble instantly arose. By this time the hindmost end of the chain of rafts was some 500 feet from the wreck.

With a great sob, Captain Drew turned for a last look at his ship. Jack Benson watched him hawk-like. The Cynthia's bow went under, though her raising stern was still afloat. How that wreck seemed to hesitate about taking the final plunge to Davy Jones' locker. Captain Drew was sobbing, broken-heartedly. It's tough, sir. Jack murmured sympathetically in his ear. But your record is clear, sir. You haven't left a soul aboard.

Except the three who were shot for rushing the boats, Quavered the Englishman. I don't believe such fellows as they ever had souls. Jack Benson retorted bluntly. Any man may be scared, but no man has a right to make a despicable coward of himself just because he's scared. Higher rose the stern of the steamship as the big hull settled slowly forward. Rudder and propellers were now entirely out of the water.

Let me drop overboard and go down at the same time, murmured Captain Drew brokenly. Don't try to stop me. Get on the other side of him and watch, muttered Benson to one of his jacktars. With a grim smile, the naval seaman passed behind the Englishman, produced a short length of rope, and with it lashed Captain Drew's right foot fast to the door. That would hold him, where he was, until ready hands could interfere with any mistaken attempt at suicide. It was well toward daybreak when Jack had stepped to the raft ahead of Captain Drew.

Shortly after they had drifted away from the doomed ship, the Cynthia plunged on her final dive and went below the surface of the waters. The low-running waves washed over and seemed to blot the liner out of existence, all in a moment. Soon after, day began to break. At 5 o'clock, it was broad daylight. About this time, the wireless operator on the grant picked up a message from Commander Breen, in charge of the United States scout cruiser, Wyandot. Instantly, the call was answered, but nothing further was heard from the Wyandotte for ten minutes. When the former call was repeated, The cruiser can't pick up our answer yet, F remarked, as he stood over the operator in the cabin.

Our aerial hasn't height enough to carry the wave to his spark. A few minutes later, however, the Wyandotte joyously followed up the grant's answer, received for the first time. Those signals had been exchanged every few minutes. You're the grant, came from the cruiser. Yes, F's operator answered back. Where are you? F gave the exact position signing his own name and his rank as Ensign.

Swift, as thought, came back the query. Where's Benson? Out on a raft with rescued passengers, F. directed his operator to send back. How many did you rescue from the Cynthia? The cruiser wanted to know. All passengers, officers and crew, except three men, shot down for trying to rush lifeboats ahead of women and children, flashed Summer's answer.

All saved, yes, sir. Grand work. The Navy has a right to be proud of, you youngsters. Came the congratulatory message, this time signed by Commander Boreen. After a pause, the scout cruiser sent this query. Is the Cynthia afloat yet? No.

Sank just before dawn this morning. What time did you reach her? About one o'clock. Grand work. Came again from Commander Breen. Thank you, sir. F's wireless man sent back. Are you in distress?

No, but we can't keep up more than headway. Many passengers and others are on rafts that we're towing. Don't care how soon you overtake us. Coming with all speed, flash the wind dot. Will you relay our news to shore? requested Ensign F. At once. So goodbye for a few minutes.

Ten minutes passed. Air the grant was signaled again. Though the submarine's present commander heard all that was being flashed through space to Washington. This is Wynod. Came after 15 minutes. Grant?

Grant the submarine's wireless sent back, sir? Navy Department, delighted with news, which adds new laurels to the American Navy. Department sends congratulations to officers and crew of Grant. Will you assure Department of Our thanks, F. requested. With great pleasure. After that, the two craft of the Navy conversed only as to location of the submarine

and her numerous convoy. End of Chapter 13, recording by John Brandon. Chapter 14 of the Submarine Boys and the Smugglers by Victor G. Durham. This Libravox recording is in the public domain. Recording by John Brandon. Chapter 14, Winning the President's Thanks. Though all possible ventilation had been provided, it was still suffocatingly hot in the Grant's small cabin.

Little wonder, but more than 70 women and children were packed in there. There were seats for hardly more than half of these rescued passengers. As soon as possible Ensign F escaped to the conning tower where there was an abundance of fresh air. At five minutes past six, the foremast of the approaching scout cruiser was cited from the grant. Twenty minutes later, the cruiser coming on under full steam was plainly visible to the hundreds who eagerly awaited her coming, nor was it long after when the wind-out with shrill blasts from her whistle came close and lay too on the now-quiet sea. Eight boats, finally manned by jackies, were at once lowered, and the work of transferring the rescued ones from the rafts in tow of the

grant rapidly proceeded. The Cynthia's remaining lifeboats at once rode to the cruiser. When the last passenger had been taken from the rafts, and these doors cut apart and cast loose, two lifeboats went over to the submarine and took off the women and children there. Paul were finally landed on the Wyandot without mishap. Jack and Hal, with their enlisted men, were also taken back to the grant as soon as the passengers had departed. The gig was being hoisted into place when a seaman standing on the bridge of the Wyandotte signaled, Commander Brains compliments, breakfast is ready. Will Mr. Benson join Commander Breen?

There's nothing to do but obey, laughed Jack, as he read the message. So he stepped into the gig and was rode over to the scout cruiser. As soon as he had gone on board, the gig returned to the grant, next being hoisted and lashed into place. Commander Breen had also invited Captain Drew to join him at breakfast, There's Benson, the brick of our Navy, shouted one American man as soon as he espied Jack on deck. Three cheers for him, and a string of rousing tigers.

Laughing, yet flushing, too, Jack fairly fled to Commander Braine's quarters. Captain Drew, though present at the meal, could eat but little. At times he talked rapidly, at others he appeared all but tongue-tied. Every now and then tears glistened in his eyes. Both the scout cruiser and the submarine were now forging ahead once more, for the present their courses would lie together, though presently the wind-out would take a more northerly course for New York City. I've heard much of you, Mr. Benson, said Commander Brin,

after the meal had begun. I've always wished to meet you, and now my first chance has been on a day when you have performed a wonderful piece of work on the ocean. I hope you won't continue to think it wonderful, smiled Jack. After that the conversation was almost wholly with Captain Drew. Both the elder and the younger naval officers tried to cheer up the old sailing master, but this they found a difficult matter. They learned, however, that Captain Drew did not intend,

seeking the command of another ship. He had money enough saved and intended to return to England and there live quietly, the sea henceforth, to be but a memory to him. When breakfast was over, an hour later, Jack Benson did not linger. It was time for the two-craft two-part company. The wind-dot now signaled the grant, and both craft lay two, while the gate,

rode the waves and came alongside for the young lieutenant. Good boy, fine fellow. He did wonderful work for us last night. We'll never forget Lieutenant Benson. These were only a few of the comments that Jack heard, as with lifted cap he passed through the throngs of the rescued on the scout cruiser's deck and made his way to the side gangway. Now then, proposed a hearty voice, cheer Lieutenant Benson out of sight. We owe our lives to him, his officers, and his men. Let loose, everybody. This came just as the coxswain had given orders to pull away.

The tumult that followed was deafening. Women's voices could be heard with those of the men. Children joined in. All along the rail of the cruiser's spar deck, handkerchiefs were fluttering. handkerchiefs that not many hours before had been drenched with tears of hopeless terror. As the gig was hauled up in place and lashed, the powerful steam whistle of the wind-dot started a new tumult. Mr. Hastings, see that our colors are dipped at once in acknowledgement, Jack ordered, then ahead at full speed for Boxhaven. Jack vanished down the stairs leading

from the conning tower. He enjoyed doing his duty, the more perilous the duty, the better he liked it. But being tossed up in a blanket of approval and praise did not please him. Why didn't you stay on deck, question F. Summers, who had followed him below. You should have waved your hat for the next ten minutes. The people you rescued last night know a hero when they see one, and you've cheated them out of a lot of enjoyment by running away. The word hero, muttered Lieutenant Benson, is one that should be erased from the service dictionary. No officer or man in the Army or Navy has any right to be a hero. Whenever a serviceman has any duty to perform, he should put it through to the very best of his ability

and should sidestep at the taunt of being a hero. Mr. Summers, you're just about down and out. "'Oh, there's a lot of kick left in me yet,' F replied with a grin. "'You will turn in for two hours,' Jack directed. "'I will take personal command. "'I shall also send Hal to his birth. "'You, Mr. Summers, will call Mr. Hastings to relieve you "'when you have been on duty two hours.'

"'That will give Hal four hours of sleep. "'He needs it, poor fellow. "'For he wore himself out giving the rafts, his personal attention, and speeding the work all he could. Jack, as soon as his own deck watch was over, tumbled into his birth. He fell asleep at once, nor was Benson aroused until F. Summers came in to report.

Sir, we are within about five miles of Box Haven Bay. Have you any orders, sir? If I have, smiled Benson, I'll go on deck and go. give them. It was shortly after three o'clock in the afternoon when the grant returned to her former moorings. The gig was placed back in the water, ready for instant use. While this was being done, a shore boat came out. The man in charge brought two telegrams. One came before ten this morning, the other at eleven o'clock, said the messenger. Any answer to go ashore? The first

envelope that the submarine boy opened bore the signature of the Secretary of the Navy. The sender stated that, by direction of the President, he begged to tender heartiest thanks and sincere congratulations to officers and men of the grant for their splendid work performed at the wreck of the Cynthia. It was not the expectation of this department, the dispatch ran on, that you would be able to accomplish more than to take off a few score of women and children who would not otherwise be rescued. It was believed that the commander of the Wyandotte would accomplish the major part of the work if the Cynthia should be fortunate enough to keep afloat a few hours longer than she actually did. The exploits of the officers and crew of the grant will

fill a bright page indeed in the more peaceful annals of the United States Navy. You have all merited and won the applause of the nation. Gunners' mate shouted Jack Benson lustily. Hype all hands on deck to listen to a communication. While the men were tumbling up, Jack read the second telegram. His eyes flashed as he placed this second message in an inner pocket. Then he turned to face all hands, reading aloud the communication of the Secretary of the Navy to the entire personnel of the submarine.

We are grateful to the department, as well as to the President, for this expression of esteem for us. The young submarine commander went on smilingly. Still we who were on the spot know better than anyone else can possibly know, that we merely performed a simple duty to the best of our United Powers. I wish to thank you all, officers and men, for the splendid discipline and fidelity which made our task so easy. Having dismissed the crew, Jack, quietly signaled Hal and F to follow him to the wardroom. Hardly had they entered this cozy, snug little place, when a brisk step was heard. Ned White entered.

His face ablaze with reproach. End of Chapter 14, recording by John Brandon. Chapter 15 of the Submarine Boys and the Smugglers by Victor G. Durham. This Libravox recording is in the public domain. Recording by John Brandon, Chapter 15. Ned's Get Rich Quickly scheme. Well, you're some nice fellow. What?

Blurted Ned surveying the three assembled young office. What have we done now? inquired Jack Benson looking up. Done? repeated Ned White disgustedly. You went away on one of the finest and most picturesque of sea rescues with never a word to me, not an offer to take me along,

or let me see what was happening. There were several reasons why we didn't, Jack declared. In the first place, when we received that order from the Navy Department, there was no time to go hunting up folks on shore. We slipped our cable and started the engines as fast as we could move. In the second place,

I have not been authorized to take you on a cruise of any kind. You haven't? Ned demanded opening his eyes still wider. Why, I heard from the department yesterday afternoon. Friends of mine in Washington attended to that. Here's the telegram. We haven't yet heard from. the department Jack insisted, handing back the telegram.

Then, have I got to go back on shore? White demanded. I've come out and brought two bags with me. One of your sailors has them outside the door now. There's no regulation against our having an extra bag or two on board. Benson smiled, and unless we receive sailing orders, you'll be very welcome, Mr. White, until into the evening. We may have guests, when docked or at anchorage. But I don't understand you're not getting the order from the Navy Department. Ned went on anxiously.

I'll go ashore to the telegraph office and inquire. That won't be necessary. I'll send the coxswain of the gig. But at that moment, the gunner's mate knocked at the door, then handed in a telegram. Here is the official order, said Jack, after glancing at the telegram, this authorizes me, at my pleasure and discretion, to have you on board at any or all times during the next 30 days as my guest.

The telegram is marked delayed in sending. Ford is dated yesterday, probably the Cynthia matter, drove it all out of the head of some clerk in the department. Well, what's your pleasure, demanded Ned White? You know well enough that you're welcome on board, Jack answered, gripping his guest's hand. Hal and F went through the same formality. Then I may have your man bring

in the bags? asked Ned. Mr. Summers will give the order. You will have the after-state room on the port side. That's the state-room nearest to the ward-room table, chuckled Ned gleefully. He went out for a moment to attend to the disposition of his bags. Having opened his baggage, he presently came back with a good-sized bank, which he placed on the ward-room table. Here's something that I want to show you, fellows. Ned went on, it's quite an idea, I think. The scheme may help you all out if you feel any need of putting by savings. Do you have to save, inquired Jack? You with wealthy parents and a good income outside of your government pay in the State Department?

It's a bore to save, Ned confessed. To me, money seems made only to spend, but my father has been kicking at my expenses for some time and has given me several lectures on the art of saving. There's a fellow named Jones in the State Department who hasn't dissent in the world outside of his beggary pay. Yet somehow he always has money. In fact, I found it convenient to borrow from him more than once. So one day, Jones and I were chatting,

and I told him about my father's peculiar notion that I ought to save money. Odd, but Jones didn't think my father's idea was anything very peculiar. I'm surprised at Jones' lack of sense, murmured Ensign F. Oh, Jones is quite a bright fellow. In a lot of ways, Ned went on genially. He even said that he thought my father was right, and that I ought to go in for saving. He told me that I needn't start with very heavy saving.

I told him that was cheering. Jones said that sometimes pretty big results come out of small beginnings, and I assured him that I could see the truth of that in a general way. Then he asked me if I would be willing to make a start by saving pennies. I told him that didn't seem very difficult, as I always hated to have them in my pockets. Then Jones outlined the scheme, and it was a dandy in its way, though I don't know that the outcome will be very big. Producing a key, White opened his bank. by taking off the top, allowing the submarine boys to look inside.

Really, fellows, he said, I'm beginning to get just a bit fascinated with the idea, I'll admit, quite a tidy sum already. What? As the bank circulated from hand to hand, the submarine boys discovered that it contained besides a pleasing amount in small change, several banknotes. What's the scheme? asked Lieutenant Jack. How do you work it? This is the idea Jones outlined to me. Ned White went on.

The first week I was to put a penny at the bank. The second week, two cents. A third week, four cents. The fourth week, eight cents, and so on. You catch the idea? Each week I put in double what I did the week before. In other words, I double the bet every week. How long do you keep this up?

asked Hal, who possessed an excellent head for mathematics. For six months. Twenty-six weeks, Ned answered. At the end of twenty-six weeks, then, putting buy money on that plan, you'll have quite a tidy sum, Hal suggested. Very tidy, I expect, White agreed. When I get it all saved, I'm going to convert the money into a draft and send it to my father as a little gift. He'll be pleased to see that I really am saving money, even if only in a small way. How long have you been saving on this plan? Jack asked.

I put in the money for the 15th week yesterday, Ned replied. It has only 11 weeks more to run. And how much money do you expect to have saved when the 26 weeks are ended? Al pursued. Oh, I haven't the least idea, Ned. admitted. I never was any good at arithmetic. Eleven weeks more won't be long to wait, and then I'll count up what I've saved. It will be the last few weeks of the game that will draw hardest on you. Hastings suggested

as he reached for paper and pencil. I expect so, why dissented? Insinhal began to figure. At last he had the sum calculated. Unless your father is a very rich man, Hal remarked. He'll appreciate your intended gift very highly. Will he? Yes, I've just got the result figured out for the total savings for 26 weeks on your plan of starting with a cent and each week doubling what it was the week before. It's a very tidy sum. Is it? Net inquired. In a general way, how much? Pretty close to three-quarters of a million dollars. said Hald Riley, as he passed over the sheet containing the figures. What?

Gasped Ned White. Stop trifling with my intellect. Are those figures straight? As straight as I know how to make them. Hastings declared gravely. Hal is the best mathematician in our crowd, Jack Benson added. Ned White appeared thunderstruck. He stared at the figures with vacant eyes.

Almost three-quarters of a million? He gasped. Wow, a glass of water or throw it over me. I'm faint. At least he appeared weak, for Ned White sank back into his chair, still clutching the paper and staring at Hal's figures.

Great results sometimes come from very small beginnings, you know, if broke in. But three-quarters, then Ned's face turned red. Say, he gasped, Do you suppose Jonesy knew what I was up against? Probably, nodded hell, if he's any good at arithmetic. This kind of scheme is what is known as an example of geometrical progression. During the first weeks of the 26th, the saving is very easy,

but the last weeks would be impossible to any but a rich man. And even the Bank of England couldn't keep up that game of savings for a year, could it, demanded Ned bewildered. "'I doubt of all the people in the world could raise the money "'to keep up that game for a year,' Hal answered. "'I haven't any idea yet how much money one would have saved "'at the end of a whole year, but I'll figure it out now.' "'Don't,' begged Ned sharply.

"'Don't do anything of the sort, "'unless you want to see me an accepted candidate for a lunatic asylum.' "'Young Mr. White's face, bore such an odd expression of mingled rage and sheepishness that the submarine boys could no longer hold back their laughter. Indeed, they appeared to be the victims of three separate and various fits. That's right, growled Ned. Laugh at me.

Enjoy me as one of the prize idiots of the United States. But, oh, you, Jonesy, just wait until I get back to Washington and behold, your smirking face. What won't I do to you? I'll apply for a whole month's leave and spend all that extra time and trying to think up picturesque ways of putting it all over Jones for making such a fool of me. And then when you get back to Washington, chuckled ensign F, you'll raise a goodly some of money and hand it all over to one Jones as a bribe to keep him from telling everyone else in the State Department about your savings. It'll be too late, muttered White, opening his eyes still

whiter. That miserable Jones has doubtless told everyone in the department already, and, and for that matter I told a few myself before he came away. Oh, oh, Oh, now as you fellows won't do anything for me, I'll have to do it for myself. Rising and crossing the wardroom, Ned bumped his head repeatedly, though with some caution against the steel wall. Returning, Ned bent over the bank, transferring all of his recent savings to his pockets. Want to come up on deck and see me throw this beastly bank overboard? He demanded.

All three shook their heads. Tell you what we'll do, Ned White continued. We'll go on shore this evening and spend all this trash that has accumulated so far. We won't even think of it, retorted Jack. Mr. White do go right on with your savings. Keep it up for the full 26 weeks or as long as you can go on. It'll teach you a lot about the value of hoarding money. Ned's only reply was a snort as he hurried to the deck where he hurled his now empty bank as far as he could throw it.

No more little kid tricks for me, White declared, as he re-entered the wardroom. It strikes me that the game you've just abandoned was a full-sized man's performance. Hinson F. chuckled. Please don't say any more, urged Ned miserably. If you do, I'm afraid I'll forget my place as a guest, and, but, oh, just wait until I get my hands on that fellow Jones. Jack Benson shot a warning glance at F. Summers. After that, Ned was teased no more about his Get Rich Quickly scheme.

Dinner went off pleasantly that evening. Later, Jack drew Hal aside and led him up to the deck. I want you to stay here, Jack explained, and keep the sharpest lookout every second of the time. You see a masked headlight on the velvet, if that light should be hauled down, or if she moves out of the bay under it, I want you to let me know instantly.

I understand, Al nodded. The rest of us may come up on deck and probably will. Benson continued, but if we do, you are on watch just the same, though you do not need to let anyone else see it. Half an hour later, all of the wardroom crowd occupied chairs under the little awning. Though Hal joined them, he seated himself, so that not once was his face turned away from the velvet.

When are you going out to sea, or under the sea, or to do something picturesque. Ned asked Jack. It's really hard to say, Benson replied. Then you don't know at present. What you're going to do? If I did know, it would be highly improper for me to tell anyone else.

Why beg your pardon? Ned went on hurriedly. But if I happen to be on shore, when you start seaward, can you notify me so that I can get out here? Certainly, if there be time, time enough left to send and get you. By 10 o'clock, Ned began to gap. Anyone going below to bed? He inquired. A little nap will come handy to me, F admitted. I go on deck duty at midnight.

Just then, Hal Hastings gave the young commander's arm a warning pressure. Instantly, Jack Benson wheeled about. The velvet was just slipping from her pier, her mashtad light going, when someone presumably Jake, was hanging the side lights in place. Better remain on deck a little longer, Mr. White, Jack suggested. What's the matter? Are you going to be lonely for company? In a few minutes, murmured Jack, I'm going to give the signal for the assembling of all hands. You'll see how quickly sailors can tumble out under such conditions. I'm on, nodded Ned, who really thought he was on, and sank back into his chair. F went back into the tower where he stood watching the schooners moving masthead light.

Jack waited until the mast headlight was fully two miles out at sea. Then he turned to his guest to remark quietly, I may go further, Mr. White, and be able to show you a little drill in handling the boat. Going to dive? asked White eagerly. Who can say? smiled Jack quizzically. End of Chapter 15. Recording by John Brandon Chapter 17 of the Submarine Boys and the Smugglers by Victor G. Durham.

This Librevox recording is in the public domain. Recording by John Brandon. Chapter 17 Wally Wimpins, Man of Vengeance. What I want, proclaimed F. Summers, is Shore Leaf. It was afternoon, all of the submarine boys. had slept, and all were therefore refreshed. To be more definite, smile, Jack Benson, what you really want is something in the ice cream soda line. Oh, I might get rid of three or

four of them, Summers conceded, but the main thing that I want on shore is a good walk along a good old rustic road. I'm a country boy, you know. You'll be back on board by six o'clock, won't you? Benson inquired. Oh, easily. Go ahead then. And take your shore leave. F started for the deck. Oh, by the way, Lieutenant Jack called after him. Hold the boat, until I can put on sit close too, and I'll run ashore. Going on a walk with me? No, I shall have other fish to fry, but I want to go on shore just the same. Up on deck, under the awning, sat Ned White with Hal. The young man from the State Department did not care about going ashore. He was enjoying the sea breeze that blew in under the awning.

On shore, the submarine boys parted company. F went to the nearest drugstore, where he surrounded five ice cream sodas and vanquished them. Then he started to find his road, one that turned up by the Hotel Bel Air, and stretched off toward a green forest in the distance. Just as F went by the rear portion of the hotel, he was spied by no less a personage than Wally Wimpens,

the would-be young actor whom F had floored in the Arlington in Washington. Wally had a summer engagement here at Boxhaven, though one that had no connection with the stage. Wally had arrived two days before to serve as a waiter at the Bel Air. There wasn't much glory in being a waiter, but Wally had reasoned that there was a waiter, at least a living in it, and that the tips from guests ought to solve his wounded feelings. Today he was to have his first afternoon off and had already dressed for it.

When he spied summers, the new waiter's eyes opened very wide. That's he, cried Wally. I couldn't mistake him anywhere. That's the same kid with sunburst hair that treated. me to the wallop in Washington. I'd like to wait on him for just one meal. But he's going by, and I have three hours of my own time this afternoon. I'll follow sunburst hair, and see if there's any safe and easy way of handing him back the wallop that he loaned me. Giving F-time to get a little more of a start, Wally followed carefully, his mind bent wholly on thoughts of vengeance. Wally, like many of his weak-minded kind, imagined himself a desperate man, whom it was highly

dangerous to offend. If I get that kid where I want him this afternoon, Wimpins told himself fiercely, I'll make him sing mighty low for once. If I can only get him down and make him beg for mercy. Then I'll read Sunburst a little lecture on keeping his fists to himself. There were sheltering walls and little stretches of groves that ran near the road. Wally had very little trouble in following his intended prey, and took but a moderate chance of being discovered. Passing through one of the groves which bordered on the wagon road, Wally Wimbent's heart gave a sudden leap of joy. Lying in the path before him lay a heavy three-foot stake. This thing will put us on an equal footing, gloated the simpleton, pouncing upon his prize. My, but it's stout and hard.

I'll get in front of sunburst with this and tell him what a royal thumping he's about to receive. I can see him turn pale. I can see his lower jaw drop. These bullies are always cowards. I've read as much somewhere. Though the way across the fields and through little stretches of woods made rough walking for Wally, whose feet were already tired from standing still behind the chairs of Bel Air guests, Mr. Wimpins managed to hide his discomfort even from himself.

His whole being was actuated by the hunger for vengeance. He could think of nothing else. one swift-hard thump with this fine old piece of wood, while he told himself, and then I could stand over him while he crouches at my feet. Oh little does he imagine who is on his trail this afternoon. Though the simpleton could not comprehend the fact, F. Summers, in truth,

would have been but very little disturbed had he known just who was pursuing him, and why. At last the lonely road began to wind through a stretch of forest. F walked on, Wally now limping, though keeping manfully, to his self-appointed task of revenge. At last, however, Mr. Wimpins felt that he could go no further if he was to save enough of his feet to get back to Boxhaven. He'll come back this way anyway, thought Wally,

sinking to the grass near the road, And when he does come, oh, won't I hand it to him. As for Ensign F, the young officer kept on for some distance further. Finally, however, his watch informed him that it was time to turn back from the most delightful walk he had had in many a day. Here are the woods, where no one would meet him, or know the submarine boy, even if a meeting did take place, F had his coat off and on his arm, while he fanned his perspiring face with his straw hat.

Wally, with his ear close to the ground, heard the tramp of the returning pedestrian. He rose to his knees peering eagerly. It's sunburst, all right? Glowed wimpins. Now I'll hide behind that tree. As sunburst passes me, I'll land one on his pate, that would have been worthy of good old robin hood himself ha tremble caitliff for thy doom is indeed near there does not live the man who may affront mr wallace wimpins and trust to go unscathed F came along at a swinging walk, unaware that there was another human being within a mile of him.

The broad oak tree's trunk wholly concealed the vengeful wimpins. Whistling softly, young Incent Summers strolled by the tree, while he slipped quietly around the trunk to avoid chance of being seen. Then with the soft tread of a stage villain whom he had often admired, Wimpenst stole up behind the unsuspecting submarine boy. The stake uplifted. Some slight sound must have caught F. Sear, for he started to turn. Not a second was to be lost if Wimpens was to be sure of his revenge.

Wack! Down came the club on F's hatless cranium. Wally struck somewhat harder than he had intended. Naturally F. fell to the ground. As he did so, he rolled over on his back in order to get an instant glance at whatever had collided with him. Wally bounded a step forward, then placed one foot on F's chest. Ha, Varlet! Now we change places, he cried shrilly brandishing the club menacingly.

I'm quite willing to change places grunted young summers. You shall lie here in the road and I'll take that piece of kindling wood and jab you one for luck. Silence, dog, hissed Wally. Dog am I, demanded F. Then whose pup are you? Darest thou insult me, quivered Wimpins. Then indeed shall thou rue this day.

That F. Summers didn't at once, Push aside the foot and leap to his feet, ready to avenge the blow that had laid him low, was due solely to the swift belief that came to him. That belief was to the effect that he was dealing with an escaped lunatic. Vincent Summers wasn't of the sort to deal roughly with a lunatic. He decided on a conversational method of soothing this violent young spindling. Is this your usual way of greeting friends on the road?

F. inquired mildly. "'Friends?' demanded Wally scornfully. "'No, fool, this is the way I meet mine enemies, and strike terror to their hearts. "'In me, behold, a man who can wait patiently for years for vengeance. "'In me behold one, who, when wronged, worships devoutly, at the shrine of sweet vengeance.' "' Clean Daffy,' was F's inward comment. I don't believe I ever met anyone before so wholly dippy as this chap is. Then he asked,

You speak of me as an enemy. How do you know I am? I can't remember that I ever before had the pleasure of meeting you. Villain, add not lying to thine other crimes, ordered Wally sternly, Just dare deny that, But the other morn thou lookest upon me. in the caravansery of the chief city of the province? I don't know that address. Didst not leave thy two companions and walk over and strike me down?

demanded Wally his eyes gleaming. Didst not smite me with eye-fist and stretch me on the ground before thee? Answer, Ketif. Say, blurted F. Summers suddenly, are you the tallow dip that I had to knock down, in the Arlington at Washington? I am the same, proclaimed Wally, but now the tables are turned. I am uppermost in power here. Beg, Varlet, beg! All right, returned F. Summers, coolly.

The first petition I have to offer is that you kindly take your soiled shoe off my chest. If you are not quick about it, I shall have to remove the foot myself. Thou durst not, hissed Wally, but incur my slightest displeasure, and thou perisheth. I'll talk that over with you. When I'm on my feet, promised F.

Gripping Wally's foot, he pushed it aside with a grin. Next he prepared himself for a spring to his feet. Now was Wally Wimkins assailed with sudden terror. This valiant youth no longer yearned for combat. He must act in self-protection, so he swung his stake, This time he brought it down on F's head with greater force. Ensign Summers fell back in grim silence.

The stake had done its work. He lay on his side in the road, neither moving nor offering to speak. Wally bent over him in terror, all the bravado oozing swiftly out of him. Ah, woe the day from me, wailed Wimpins. I have killed him. Then he turned and fled, like all cowards. leaving in the middle of the road this victim of his fantastic ideas of vengeance. They'll arrest me if they catch me near here, shrieked Wally Wimpens as he dashed wildly into the woods.

End of Chapter 17. Recording by John Brandon. Chapter 18 of the Submarine Boys and the Smugglers by Victor G. Durham. This Librevox recording is in the public domain. Recording by John Brandon, Chapter 18. Jake sees a really specter. Three young men sat around the wardroom table on the grant. Two of them were in uniform, the third, their guest, Ned White. It was six o'clock.

The wardroom stewards stood behind Lieutenant Benson's chair, awaiting the order to serve. We'll wait dinner a few minutes longer, Jack proposed. What can be keeping F? wondered Hal Hastings anxiously. Any one of a dozen or a score of inconsequential things, returned Ned White lightly. Why are you fellow so uneasy? You don't know all about the ways of the service, smiled Jack.

Punctuality is one of the first lessons of this life, and Mr. Summers this all was so punctual that you could set your watch by his return. So I see, scoffed Ned, who not being in the least, worried, was fully prepared to do justice to his appetite. At last when Jack found the time to be 6.15, he turned to the waiter to say, pass the word to the gunner's mate to recall the gig from the shore. The boat's crew will want their supper. When you have passed the word, then you may begin to serve us. By seven o'clock, the meal was finished, but F was still missing. I can't stand this much longer, confessed Jack Benson, rising from table. Waiter, find out if the boat's crew have

finished their meal. Yes, sir, reported the waiter, coming back. Then password to the gunner's mate that I shall want the gig at once. Very good, sir. And beg pardon, sir, well, it has begun to rain, sir, thank you. I will get my rainclothes. Though his own rainclothes were in his cabin, Lieutenant Jack came out with the set he had borrowed from Ned White. Oh, these are yours, Mr. White. I had meant to return them earlier, Jack declared. Put him on for tonight, begged White. Don't go back for your own.

So Jack donned the long rubber coat and South Wester. And I believe I'll go with you, yawned Ned, rising from the table. Then I'll get out of your clothes, smile, Lieutenant Jack. Don't do anything of the sort, my dear fellow. Just lend me yours. They'll fit. This exchange was therefore made. The two stepped into the gig as it was brought alongside. Once on shore, Ned suggested,

Suppose we go to the hotel Bel Air first. Summers may be dining there. Jack shook his head. If not, and if something has happened to Summers, Ned continued, the hotel will be the most likely place to have the news. So they turned in at the hotel and spent some little time there making inquiries. There was no word, however, to be had of F. Wally heard of the inquiry made. He had returned to the

hotel as being the safest place for him. He was pallid-faced, quaking and ready to scream from terror. When he heard that Summers was being sought and heard the description too, Wally watched his chance to flee to a shed in the Hotel Stewards Department. There Wally Wimpens crouched in the dark, starting at every sound. Strange we don't get any word of summers here, murmured Ned. I'm going further, Jack declared, looking genuinely worried at last. You might stay here, White, and telephone as you think best. I'm going through the village a bit, for within the last,

few minutes, a very gruesome suggestion had been growing to the submarine boy's mind. He began to believe that F, trying to do some sleuthing on his own account against the smugglers, had fallen afoul of them. And I believe Skipper Redbeard would kill a man in order to escape, thought Jack darkly. So his reflections, as he hurried forth, were not altogether comfortable ones. It seemed unlikely that F. Summers would come across a larger fight than he could handle. Yet, where was he? It was quite dark now, and the rain was falling heavily. Almost unconsciously, Benson's steps turned in the direction of the little pier where the schooner velvet docked.

Prudence being always strong in Jack, he advanced cautiously now. It would be a betrayal of his mission from the Navy Department to explain. expose himself in any way that might result in putting Skipper Redbeard and Jake on their guard. So as he came in sight of the pier, Jack Benson stepped behind a tree trunk, determining to look over the scene before advancing. The white masthead light hung from the schooner's foremast head, but there was no sign of life aboard. I wonder if the bulldog is about again, and if he'll know me well enough to let me alone this time, thought the submarine boy. For some minutes he peered intently. Presently he forgot to take account of his surroundings other than the pier.

He was startled, therefore, to hear steps approaching from behind. There was just time to slip behind the tree when two figures passed. A nasty night, he heard Jake say. Yes, vouchers have fed the skipper, but darker it is better for us, dark nights for mine. Then you, Right then and there, Jake closed his jaws with a snap. He walked faster and strode out on the pier. What are you in such a hurry for, bald skipper Redbeard?

But Jake neither replied nor halted until he was almost down to the schooner's side. Then he wheeled, coming back slowly. What in blazes ails you, growled Redbeard. I saw it, gasped Jake, his eyes rolling. Now, confound you for an idiot. What did you see? demanded the skipper hoarsely. I saw it, I tell you, Jake insisted in quavering accents. Now which it.

Or how many? What are you talking about anyway? Growl the exasperated skipper. I saw the ghost of that fellow you threw overboard the other night, quavered Jake. Stop your nonsense, roared the skipper, seizing Jake, and shaking him roughly. I didn't throw any man overboard, and you know it. Well, then the fellow that jumped overboard and didn't show up again. He was drowned anyway, and I tell you that I just saw his ghost.

He had on the same rainclothes that he was drowned in. Where did you see him? demanded the skipper, becoming suddenly suspicious. Over there, right behind that tree, Jake declared pointing. Why didn't you say so before that? demanded the skipper. Come along, we'll look into that. Skipper Redbeard started on a fast run, but Jake didn't follow. Instead, the deckhand remained rooted to the middle of the pier, a prey to fear. He neither dared follow his chief nor venture aboard the schooner, where it would be just his luck, to run plumb into that awful ghost. There was nothing there, you tarnel, chuckle-headed

fool, growled Redbeard, returning. I knew there wasn't, but I went and looked, just to show you how big a fool you are. I tell you, cried Jake solemnly. I saw nothing, bellowed Redbeard. Now get aboard with you and cast off. Continued the skipper. We've got to make an early start tonight on account of the wind being against us. Hustle. Jack Benson, of course, had not waited to be discovered but had slipped away. So I'm a ghost, am I? Chuckled Jack. I'll save that up. Then he hurried to the hotel where the landlord promised to do all in his power to get word of F. Summers. As a naval officer Benson was bound, first of all, to keep that little schooner in sight. Before the velvet's white light was much more than a mile out at sea, the submarine

Grant was ready to follow. End of Chapter 18, recording by John Brandon. Chapter 19 of the submarine boys and the smugglers by Victor G. Durham. This Librevox recording is in the public domain. Recording by John Brandon. Chapter 19, watching the ocean prey. Benson, remonstrated Ned White, after they had boarded the grant. I really don't see how you had the whole.

hard to do it. Do what? Why order another practice tonight? When you were so uncertain about poor summers. I have to do it, was Lieutenant Jack's low reply. Orders from Washington? Yes, Jack answered, not untruthfully. Oh, all right, then, murmured White. I suppose you naval officers have to follow orders ahead of everything else. I don't suppose you could leave me behind to hunt for F, whispered, Insin Hal Hastings. Not properly, Jack answered, as it is we're putting to see one officer shy,

and to leave two on shore would be a highly unwise procedure. Say, can't I get ashore yet? asked Ned, ready to volunteer in the search for F. Summers. Yes, but you wouldn't know how to do anything that the landlord of the Bel Air can't do, Benson replied. I suppose that's so, Ned admitted reluctantly. As a matter of fact, Benson was now quite convinced that F had in some way run afoul of the smugglers.

If that's the case, and we can catch them tonight, Lieutenant Jack reflected, that may be the quickest way of getting word of where poor F is if he's still alive. Hal touched Jack's arm, then looked seaward. On account of the rain, the schooner's light Would not be as plainly visible as it would be on a clearer night. Mr. White, you and I will go below, proposed Jack briskly. The gig has been secured to the mooring, and we'll get underway now. Are you going to allow me to stand in the tower and watch the maneuver?

White inquired innocently. Not until later, Jack replied, you and I will go below. The last thing above that the deck watch did was to cast the submarine off from the moorings. Then the conning tower was closed tightly and the start made with no light showing beyond the submarine. Hal was on duty in the tower,

standing beside the helmsman. Just as soon as they were clear of the bay and the water was deep enough, and somehow semi-submerged the craft, so that only the upper portion of the tower was above water. Somehow it makes a fellow feel restless, sitting down here and not having a glimpse of what is happening, remarked White. If you remain with us a month,

you'll be so used to it that you could turn in in your birth and go sound asleep, when you knew we were a hundred feet underwater, smiled Lieutenant Jack. Do your men sleep when you're underwater? No, for the simple reason, that when we're down deep, it's common sense for the men to be awake and dressed. Yet any one of them would be willing enough to turn in right now, and never wonder what we were going to do with the craft. Have you never gone underwater and then experienced a lot of difficulty in

getting back to the surface. Yes, Jack admitted, candidly, I remember once, when we were below for a long time and never expected to see the surface again. The same thing happened to us a second time when we had a squad of Annapolis

midshipman on board. Ooh, Ned White stirred uneasily. But you see that we're still here, smiled Jack. perhaps the third time you won't be as fortunate into the young man from the State Department. We never give that idea a single thought, Jack replied. If we did, it would unfit us for our work, perhaps. But men of the Navy must be ready for death in whatever form it comes.

Take our vessel that was lost a good many years ago in the Samoan hurricane. She was at anchor, and the hurricane seemed to come out of a clear sky. That ship with all its crew was dragged loose from Anchorage and hurried along to wreck. All hands were lost. Yet just as the waves washed over that craft, the sailors were manning the yards and cheering lustily while the band was playing the Star-Spangled Banner.

Some nerve about that, muttered Ned. "'Americans always have that sort of nerve when the time comes,' Jack returned. "'Nor is American nerve confined to the Army or Navy. "'I wonder if I'd have it,' pondered White half aloud. "'I'm sure you would, but I hope you won't need it tonight.' "'Oh, well, a fellow can't die more than once, Kenny,' muttered Ned, "'rising and walking about restlessly for a few moments. then he laughed and sat down again.

Jack joined in that laugh. Don't mind, White, he urged. You've just been having a little touch of submarineitis, that's all. Did you ever have it? Sometimes at first, Jack confessed, but it soon wears off. If you spend most of your time aboard a submarine craft as we do, You'd soon begin to pity the folks in our large cities who are constantly risking death from being run down by streetcars or automobiles. The only forms of death of which most men are afraid are those with which they happen to be unfamiliar.

Have you ever seen folks afraid of a flash of lightning? Have I? echoed Ned. Yet did you ever see a telegraph operator who worked? with electricity all day long afraid of lightning. Did you ever see a veteran horseman, afraid of a fall that might break his neck? Have you ever known of a railroad engineer to be afraid to enter his car

and start hauling an express train? I guess a fellow is a fool to be afraid of anything whatever, decided young Mr. White. Fear doesn't sit very well on any human being, Jack Benson declared quietly. I hope Summers has been located, said Ned, to change what was becoming a disagreeable subject. So do why, Jack answered gravely. What do you think has happened to him?

How can I guess? But I won't attempt to guess. If we are at anchor tomorrow, I shall put in a whole day looking for him, unless he has shown up before then. of only one thing am I absolutely certain, and that is that something has befallen F that prevented his return, or he'd have been back on board by six this evening. Mr. Hastings' compliments, sir, and he'd be glad of your company in the tower. Does that include me, coaxed Ned, as Lieutenant Jack Rose promptly.

I'm afraid it doesn't, but I'll take you into the tower as soon as I may properly do, it. Then Benson quickly ascended the steps, standing beside his chum on the platform. I thought you'd want to know, sir, said Hal quietly, that I have observed three skyward flashes from a searchlight over to the westward. Just what I do want to know, Jack admitted. How long ago were the flashes? Just before I sent for you. Did the flashes follow in quick succession? Yes, any more flashes since? No, sir. It must have been a signal, Jack mused. I'll stay with you and watch if more come. Ten minutes passed, during which the semen at the wheel steered like an automaton. Over to the westward the velvet was still underway with all-sales

set. This the young officers could make out through their night-glasses. There go the flash. again, cried Jack, and they're more to the northwest than before Hal added in a low voice. I'm counting them, said Jack. The flashes are in pairs this time. Now they've stopped. Six in all, three pairs. And there's this schooner, changing her course, muttered Hal, in a tone of some excitement. She's trimming more to the northern, which shows that the schooner recognizes is the signal as being meant for her. Jack went on. Of course, Hal Hastings agreed.

Then we've made no mistake whatever. The schooner is all that we suspected. Here the seaman at the wheel broke in. End of Chapter 19. Recording by John Brandon. Chapter 20 of the submarine boys and the smugglers by Victor G. Durham. This Lieber Vox recording is in the public domain, recording by John Brandon.

Chapter 20, Jack calls for the three-pounder. Mr. Hastings, will you tell me, sir, if I'm to change our course? Keep after the schooner's light, Hal directed, go wherever she goes, but keep the same distance away from her as at present. Very good, sir. By the way, Corliss, broke in Jack's low voice. Remember that whatever passes tonight is in the line of duty. Aye, aye, sir.

You may learn some things from the talk between Mr. Hastings and myself that you are not to repeat even to members of the crew. Very good, sir. Then you will keep a tight watch over your tongue. Aye, aye, sir. Jack was satisfied. He knew that the Jackies of the American, Navy are to be depended upon when they are trusted. If he failed tonight to detect any act of smuggling,

it would not do to have the word get ashore the next day that the grant had been slipping stealthily through the sea at night to intercept smugglers. Corliss, Lieutenant Jack continued, I will tell you what we are engaged in doing tonight, as it may help you to more intelligent action, anything happens suddenly. Under orders from the department, we are trying to catch the schooner and some other craft, doubtless esteemship, in the act of transferring smuggled goods. I understand, sir, replied Seaman Corliss. Thank you, sir. You're thanking me for what? Jack Preston? For your confidence, sir. It always makes a man feel better when he finds that he is trusted by his officers.

And you will be careful not to speak of smugglers to your mates. I shall not mention the word to anyone, sir, until I have your permission. Thank you, Corliss. I am satisfied that I have made no mistake in telling you as much as I have. May I speak, sir? asked Corliss. Certainly. Then, sir, I have been certain for an hour, at least, that you are trailing a smuggling.

muggler. What gave you that idea? Why, I suspected it, sir, because the circumstances wouldn't fit into anything else, sir. Then laughed Jack very quietly. I'm glad I told you and imposed secrecy on you. It wasn't necessary to pledge me to secrecy, sir. I belong to the Navy, too, sir, and I know how to hold my tongue when things shouldn't be told. There go the flashes again, interpret. opposed Ensign Hal, one, two, nine, three sets of three flashes this time. A string of signal lanterns, red, white, and blue, going up to the schooner's main mast, sir, reported Seaman Corliss. That shows that we haven't been detected, mused Lieutenant Jack aloud. Why, Hal asked, because if she had cited us, the schooner wouldn't be displaying signals to the other

vessel. Unless we're detected, and Skipper Redbeard is signaling the other craft that there is danger near, suggested Hastings. Good. I had overlooked that chance. Corliss, three points to the northern. Three points it is, sir. Jack watched until the submarine submerged nose had swung around as he desired. Steady. Steady it is, sir. The schooner is laying too, Hal reported, her sails are flapping. Jack himself reached for the speed indicator, soon slowing the grant down to mere headway. I changed the course, young Lieutenant Benson explained, because I have an idea that the incoming craft, with a searchlight, will send out at least one more flash. That will be when she picks up the schooner. At that time, we don't want to be within range of the flash,

and have our turret seen. Hal spoke but little now. He was swinging his nightglass over a wide angle. I think I see a steamship, he announced at last. Jack Benson raised his own glass. You're right, he declared finally. I can make out the big black hull with considerable distinctness. There she is turning northward now,

and the schooner is hauling in sheets and filling to fire. reported Seaman Corliss. How soon are you going to run in and show yourself? asked Hal. After some moments of silent work with the night glasses, just as soon as I'm sure of finding some of the goods on both craft, Jack answered. When the moment comes, it will have to be decidedly fast work. We must be sure to have both steamship and schooner, clearly implicated in the smuggling.

I wonder if the steamship, folks, we'll put up a fight, Hal Hastings mused. It wouldn't be good judgment, would it, laughed Lieutenant Jack Grimley. This craft could sink the biggest dreadnought afloat. But you wouldn't sink a steamship, Hale demanded, hardly. But the fear of our powers may stop the captain of the steamship from trying to make any resistance, especially if he has passengers aboard. Hal Hastings added, I hope he has.

Jack even, while talking, held his glass to his eyes. There goes the flash, sir, reported Corliss. The steamship is picking up the schooner. Now he has found her. The steamship is slowing down. Jack went on, and the schooner is crowding on all speed to get up astern of the steamship. We shall soon have exciting work.

It's a pity White can't be. up here and see this game. I'll let him come up, Jack nodded, just as soon as we see any evidence of the cargo being transferred. The steamship's flashlight was not again seen. plainly, the captain knew that that brilliant beam could work two ways, by attracting to his own vessel and the schooner, rather too much curiosity on the part of vessels that might soon be passing.

Bring us up to the surface, Mr. Hastings, directed Lieutenant Jack Benson. Five minutes later, I'm certain now that the steamship is passing cargo to the velvet. The goods are going over the stern of the ship, and the schooner's boat is picking them up. As Hal Hastings rang the signal bell, seaman below, sprang up to execute the orders that would speedily follow on the indicator. End of Chapter 20. Recording by John Brandon. Chapter 21 of the submarine boys and the smugglers by Victor G. Durham. This Liebervox recording is in the public domain.

Recording by John Brandon. Chapter 21. Action. All in a minute. Silently, the men on duty below worked at their stations. From their compartments, enough water. was expelled by compressed air to allow the grant to rise and ride the waves. Gunners mate, Lieutenant Jack, called down the turret stairs. Aye, aye, sir. Uncover the three-pounder. Be prepared to send it up with six rounds of ammunition, two blank, and four with projectiles.

Aye, aye, sir. Deck watch. Two seamen promptly reported. Open the turret so that we can get out on deck, Mr. White. under the influence of the stirring action around him, Ned White, a gog with curiosity, sprang to the foot of the stairs, unconsciously saluting. You may come on deck now, Mr. White, and see what's going to happen. You may just wager that I want to see, breathed White quickly, as he ran up the steps.

When I hear the order for a cannon and ammunition on a warcraft, I want to know all about it. Jack was just outside the turret standing on the platform deck. Almost at White's heels came men with the three-pound cannon. Another seaman brought up the rear with the six shells wanted. Quickly the gun was secured in place forward. A gunner's mate slipped in a blank shot without even waiting for the order. Mr. Hastings rang Jack Benson's order.

bear down on the steamship at full speed. Gunners' mate, stand by the gun to fire a blank shot as soon as I direct. Mr. Hastings station a man to turn on the searchlight as soon as I give the order. Away raced the grant. Nor did it appear as though anyone on the steamship detected the advance of the submarine through the drizzling rain. All this time the steamship was proceeding slowly. As the grant drew nearer, it could be seen that men at the stern of the steamcraft

were throwing larger-sized packages overboard. These floated, and a single man in a small boat, doubtless Jake, was securing them. Lieutenant Benson waited until, within a quarter of a mile of the steamship, Then his orders snapped out. Flash the light. First over the steamer stern, then ford.

Gunners mate, ready. As the searchlight lay suddenly across the steamer, a sudden commotion could be detected on board. Men were running to and fro. Fire, shouted the young submarine commander. The sharp crack of the three-pounder sounded out over the waters. Run in close, Mr. Hastings, and I'll hail the steamship. Suddenly a glare of light from the steamship lay across the submarine boat.

From the steamship's bridge went up a howl of consternation. Other men could now be seen running forward. Benson's own searchlight had shown a heap of merchandise in large cases piled up aft. Now as if by magic these cases began to vanish. Steam ship, ahoy, shouted Benson. Through the megaphone, as he ran his craft up alongside, Lay two! We're going to send a party aboard. Who are you? demanded a hoarse voice from the bridge.

The United States submarine boat Grant, Lieutenant Jack Benson commanding, "'Will you kindly go to Blazes?' wrote a voice from the bridge. "'Lay to, sir. Or it'll be the worst for you,' Jack returned. "'You've taken your nameplate down from the pilot house, but you forgot the one on your bow. "'You are the steamship bingo. "'You will find yourselves in worst trouble if you don't lay two for us to send a party on board. If you're not a revenue cutter, and I know you're not, I won't lay two for you,

brave the man on the steamship's bridge. Then we'll board, sir, anyway, and all the responsibility for any damage done will rest on your head, sir, Jack declared. United States seamen armed with rifles now appeared on deck. The gunner's mate brought Lieutenant Jack's sword, which that young man hung at his belt. Close in ran the grant, just as the steamer's engine room gong rang for full speed ahead. The Grant's engine room indicator showed the call for increased speed, too. Once more, the little submarine ran up close alongside the steamship.

Forward a seaman threw a line, uncoiling upward it went, the end passing around one of the ship's davits. Then down again it came. The Grants Helmsman ran in so close that the submarine lay bumping against the side of the steamship. As the sailor caught the end of the rope, he passed both ends to a mate. Now the first seaman nimbly started to climb up the double rope. Go back! Or I'll cut the rope, angrily warned one of the ship's officers, knife in hand. Jack Benson snatched a rifle from his seaman nearby.

aiming at the officer. Get back, my man, or I'll drop you, Benson shouted up. You dare and shoot, taunted the officer above. I'll give you until I count three, and then prove that I dare shoot, and that I can shoot straight. Jack retorted coolly, one, two. But the ship's officer was gone from the rail. The Jackie kept on with his climb, however, going over the rail and unslinging his own rifle.

Throw that sailor overboard! ordered the voice from the bridge. The fellow that tries it won't have any too much fun, chuckled the naval seaman, cocking his weapon. It wasn't loaded, but the seaman was the only one on deck who knew that. Several men and women, evidently passengers, had started. down on the port side of the promenade deck out of curiosity. Better get back, ladies and gentlemen, warned the sailor. Maybe there's going to be trouble and shooting here. At this moment, Lieutenant Benson climbed over the rope.

He leaped to the deck, then turned to signal for more men to follow. As soon as he had three men on deck with him, Benson left one on guard to stand by the rope. With the other two, he strode forward to the wheelhouse. The door was locked. Open this door, Jack commanded. It will not be open to you if thundered the man on the bridge. Are you the master of this ship? Jack demanded, glancing up at the bridge.

I am. Then, sir, I can only inform you that you are making a none necessary lot of trouble for yourself. This ship is hereby seized in the name of the United States government as a lawful prize. You'll have to prove that yet, rage the man on the bridge. Two more naval sailors came forward at this moment. Go up on the bridge and place that fellow

under arrest, Venson commanded. The two sailors started up readily, but the skipper met them, dealing one of the seamen a hard blow on the head that sent him rolling to the deck below. Club him with your rifle, shouted the, young lieutenant angrily, for it enraged him to see one of his seamen struck down in the faithful discharge of his duty. Benson ran around on the other side of the wheelhouse, then darted up the steps to the

bridge. Churning, the skipper came to meet him, but this left a naval seaman in his wake, who brought down the butt of a rifle over the master's head. Down on the bridge sprawled the skipper. He was not quite unconscious, but he knew that he had received the worst of it. As the gunner's mate on board shouted the submarine boy, leaning over the port's side of the bridge. Here, sir, answered the mate, running forward with more seamen. Come up here, Benson ordered. Put the irons on this scoundrel. In a trice the skipper was ironed. Ensign Hal Hastings was now on board. He hurried forward to report.

counting the injured sailor, there were now ten more besides the two officers and the gunners-maid now on board. Mr. Hastings rang Jack's voice, Sir, enter the wheelhouse and relieve the man or men you find on duty in there. Use violence if you have to. Ring this signal to stop. As the quickest way of obeying the order, Hal ordered some of his men to smash the wheelhouse windows. Then two men got inside, covered by the rifles of their comrades. Inside were found the second officer and a quartermaster.

You two are relieved from duty, and will exercise no further command, Jack called down from the bridge. Mr. Hastings, send them below, and place them in irons if they try to come up again. The engine room signal was given, and speed stopped. This is an infernal outrage, roared the skipper of the steward. ship, as soon as he began to understand more clearly what had happened. It is an outrage, and has been one for a long time, I fancy. Benson retorted dryly, but you won't do any more mischief for a while, sir, nor will your ship be engaged in smuggling again very soon.

There's no smuggling been done by this craft, insisted the master. Save that and tell it to those who will believe you, advised Jack Benson. At Jack's direction, Hal now took the bridge while Jack went to the captain's cabin to find the ship's papers. The gunnersmate with two seamen was sent to round up the deck officers. In the saloon cabin, the first officer was found, talking with some 50 or 60 passengers of both sexes. But we can't find the third officer, sir, reported the gunner's mate. After a search, of some minutes. Let him go then, directed Lieutenant Jack, returning with the ship's papers. Probably he doesn't count for much anyway. Jack Benson himself now stepped into the saloon cabin.

Ladies and gentlemen, he called in a quarter-deck voice, If you will oblige me with your attention for a few moments, I will explain what may have seemed strange to you. This steamship has been caught in the act of transferring smuggled goods to another vessel. The bingo is therefore seized, a surprise of the government. This ship will be taken to New York Lower Bay, and they're turned over to the revenue customs authorities. At the same time, you will all doubtless be set ashore,

unless it is charged that some of you have had a hand in the smuggling that has brought about the seizure of this vessel. Now I will ask you, if any of you observed the throwing of cargo overboard astern a little while ago. I believe I can answer you, for the entire party replied a handsome elderly man stepping forward. None of us saw any cargo going overboard astern for the simple reason that the stewards told us that by Captain LaFant's orders all passengers were to remain in this apartment. The reason given us was that a part of the cargo had to be shifted before we reached New York,

and that passengers on deck would be in danger of getting hurt. Thank you, sir, was Jack's acknowledgement. I think I understand how this Captain LaFont has been able, trip after trip, to run in and transfer smuggled goods without the least danger of being reported by one of his passengers. Ladies and gentlemen, the officers of this vessel have been relieved from duty. My junior officer will take this vessel into the Lower Bay of New York. You will look to Ensign Hastings as the master of this ship, for the time it will take to complete her voyage. Probably, in the minds of the assembled passengers, there arose some wonder at the age of this boyish-looking young lieutenant.

Probably most of the beholders imagined Benson to be older than he looked, for he was supported by real United States sailors from a real enough submarine craft. There could be no doubt that he was genuinely a naval officer. I assure you all, Jack wound up, that at need you will find Mr. Hastings, a most competent officer and a most courteous gentleman. I will now wish you a good night. With a graceful bow, Benson left the cabin. Outside, he called to the gunner's mate, arranged to take our injured man back on the grant, Jack ordered. Then get over the side yourself.

Lieutenant Benson next went forward to the bridge. Mr. Hastings, you will take this ship to Lower Bay, New York, and there turn her and your prisoners over to the proper revenue authorities with the ship's papers, which I hand you now. It will be found that there is still some cargo aboard that is not down on the manifest, a good enough proof of smuggling. On completion of your duty, you will wire me at Box Haven. I will advise you to keep strict guard, and to tolerate no nonsense from officers or crew on this vessel.

I shall be very careful, sir, Hal answered. Go ahead as soon as I signal you from the great. Grant. Very good, sir. As Lieutenant Jack hurried to the port quarter to call the Grant closer, he met the young man from the State Department. Hello, Hale Jack pleasantly. So you came with us. Of course I did rejoined Ned White. Why should I remain where none of the fun was happening? I'm glad you saw it, Jack Benson replied heartily. I was so busy that really I didn't have time to think of you. "'That was the way I figured it,' smiled Ned. "'So I came up the rope anyway.'

"'Up the rope?' "'Surely.' "'I didn't know you had that accomplishment. "'As a college man, I've had the advantage of some gym training,' "'Net explained. "'Can you get back by the rope? "'Oh, yes.' "'Here's our injured man, sir,' said the gunner's mate turning from the rail and saluting.

"'Can you go down a rope sims?' asked Benson looking at the man keenly. Yes, sir, I think so, replied the seaman grogily. I'm inclined to doubt it, Jack went on. We shall do better to lower you. The same rope was at hand. Jack Benson signaled to the deck watch, and the grant moved neatly in alongside.

We're hauling up the rope to lower a man who has been hurt, the young lieutenant explained, stand by to receive him. Aye, aye, sir. The rope was made fast under Seaman Sims' armpits. He was lowered, Jack, Ned, and the Gunner's mate, holding to the rope. There was but one seaman on deck, as the only other left on board the submarine was at the wheel.

Go ahead, Gunner's mate, ordered Jack. As soon as the rope was free, we need you on the grant's deck. So that petty officer let himself down by the rope. After you, Jack announced, smiling at White, do you want a net spread to catch you? I'll show you whether I do or not, you Josher, muttered White in pretended anger, just watch me. Grasping the doubled line, young White went down very well

until he was within four feet of the Grant's deck. Then, just as luck would have it, he lost his hope. hold. Striking the sloping deck prostrate, white rolled down the slippery surface, but the gunner's mate running forward from the turret, and with a shoreer footing, caught him by one arm. No going overboard, sir, without the commanding officer's permission, remarked the mate dryly. Getting upon his feet, Ned fled below. He didn't want to face further joshing from Lieutenant Jack Benson. That young officer, however, had more important matters on his mind. Reaching the deck of his own craft, he handed the line to the lone seaman there,

who hauled in and secured the rope. Helmsman signaled for slow speed ahead. Jack called at once, Port your helm, more a port, steady. As the little submarine forged by alongside, Jack Benson signaled Ensign Hall to go ahead. Good luck, Shuron. shouted the young lieutenant through the megaphone. Thank you, sir. The same to you, sir, called back the young Ensign and Prizemaster on the bridge of the bingo.

Clang sounded on the engine room gong of the big steamship. That craft began to move ahead. Clang, clang, sounded the signal for full speed ahead. Hal Hastings was in command of the largest craft whose bridge he had ever trod. But the grant was no longer alongside.

cutting a sharp circle, the submarine had swung around and was going back, her searchlight playing in wide swings over the waters. Some four miles away to the southwest, the light picked up the dull grayish sails of the velvet. That fellow isn't headed for Box Haven, sir, observed the gunner's mate. He may think he isn't, replied Jack Benson with a grim smile. Deckwatch, here, sir. My compliments to Mr. White? and ask him to join me on deck if he has nothing better to do.

Helmsman, bring us around and keep in the wake of that schooner, ring for extra speed. I suppose you want to tell me what you think of my rope work, murmured Ned, almost shamefacedly, as he reached the platform, deck. No, Jack answered. I had forgotten that I wanted to ask you what you think of our night's work. fine if it doesn't get you into trouble, declared the young man from the State Department. Trouble? Repeated Jack, feeling a bit disturbed. What trouble can come to me from having done my duty?

It's like this, whispered Ned. The owners of the bingo are pretty sure to put up a big fuss, and a lot of admiralty lawyers may be found who will question if you had sufficient ground for seizing that ship. The real fight will be in the courts. End of Chapter 21. Recording by John Brandon. Chapter 22 of the submarine boys and the smugglers by Victor G. Durham. This Lieber Vox recording is in the public domain. Recording by John Brandon, Chapter 22.

Skipper Redbeard's maneuver. Ned White, it will be remembered, had been trained as a lawyer. More than that, his further experience in the State Department at Washington had done much to put him in touch with the laws of the sea. No wonder Benson was disturbed, even if he did not betray the fact on the surface. If I did anything irregular, what was it, he asked. That skipper had no right to refuse to let us board him. Not if you had any legal reason for going on board, Ned admitted. For that matter, whatever your reason in boarding him, any skipper that sails is bound to let a United States naval commander board him on the high seas.

But after that comes the review of the courts, as to whether the naval officer was justified. His ship was engaged in smuggling, Jack asserted stoutly. Can you doubt that? "'No, but can you prove it?' He was throwing cargo over the stern, and the schooner was picking it up as it floated. "'You can prove that, I suppose,' Ned inquired.

"'By Mr. Hastings and my helmsman. "'That part is sound enough. "'If backed up by other circumstances, "'Net agreed. "'How about the rest of the evidence?' "'I am pretty certain,' Jack went on, that the master of the bengo didn't get all of his smuggled cargo overboard. Hal Hastings will see to it that no more goes overboard on the run to New York.

I seized the ship's papers and turned them over to Hastings. I don't like the sound of that any too well, Ned declared. Of course the results may justify the measure that you took, but still, how are you going to prove that the schooner took this stuff with intent to smuggle? The schooner had no right to take cargo on the high seas, except in case of wreck of the transferring craft, Jack Benson argued. Moreover, this isn't the first lot of stuff that the schooner has smuggled into the United States. The other night, she brought in perhaps 40,000 Havana cigars.

They must have come from some vessel on the West Indies run. Can you prove that the same? schooner smuggled in cigars, Ned pressed. Well, I know where her skipper hid the cigars, Jack retorted. And so does Hal Hastings, for he was with me. Further, I have already reported the hiding place of the cigars to the authorities at Washington. Maybe you haven't put your foot in it at all, Ned White suggested, hopefully. I trust that you haven't. I don't believe I have. I have. Jack replied. I have tried to act in a legal manner,

and if the Secretary of the Navy had been aboard tonight, I don't believe he would have changed my orders. Jack hastily briefly related the history of the matter to date. Of course you've good sense on your side, Ned White admitted. In my own mind, there isn't a doubt that these fellows had been engaged in a deep-laid smuggling scheme. and you caught them red-handed, but the technicalities of the law are many and crafty, and those rascals may yet escape conviction.

What you've got to do, Benson, is to look out in the event of these rascals slipping through the courts that you're able to make out a good enough case of justifiable action on your own part. That will save you from censure. "'Censure,' repeated Lieutenant Jack Benson with a bitter laugh. "'If these smugglers were acquitted "'and the trial court expressed disapproval of my action, "'do you know what would be the result for me?' "'What? Trial by court-martial,

"'and probable dismissal from the Navy service.' "'As bad as that?' gaspon Ed White. "'Probably every bed as bad as that.' then I'm very certain that I wouldn't want to serve as commanding officer in the Navy. Oh, yes, you would. If once you had a taste of the life, cried Lieutenant Jack, with all the enthusiasm of his ardent nature. Yes, you would.

There's no finer career on earth than that of being an officer in the United States Navy. Yet a commanding officer always has to be on his guard, for neither the Navy Department nor Congress will ever sanction any unduly harsh action on the part of a naval commander. Had that Bengo's skipper attempted a more stubborn resistance, and had we been obliged to kill even one man in overcoming that resistance, then I would have had to face a very strict investigation. A naval commander always has it impressed upon him that he, simply must not be guilty of any conduct that interferes with the rights or the life of another. By this time, the grant, still with frequent use of its searchlight, had come up within a quarter of a mile of the schooner. That craft had crowded on all sail, evidently with the hope of escaping

capture. Jack ordered the gunner's mate to fire a blank shot from the three-pounder. Not a sign came from the schooner of easing of sheets and coming two. Give her a solid shot across her bow. Gunner's mate was Benson's next order. Bang! The solid shot struck up a little geyser of water, barely a hundred yards ahead of the velvet's bow. Skipper Redbeard, plainly doesn't mean to give up without a fight, laughed Lieutenant Jack Grimley. nor did he know at that moment on just how much of a fight the skipper of the velvet was resolved.

End of Chapter 22. Recording by John Brandon. Chapter 23 of the Submarine Boys and the Smugglers by Victor G. Durham. This Libre Vox's recording is in the public domain. Recording by John Brandon. Chapter 23. odds of nine to two he isn't going to lay two muttered benson shall i put a solid shot in her plank sir asked the gunner's mate no mate i don't believe we would be justified in that as we can board that craft we'll run alongside and jump aboard white i'm going to press you into service and take you along as prize crew for i can't spare any of our seamen from the grant "'Go to leave me alone aboard that schooner?' demanded Ned.

"'Becoming interested? "'No, I shall be there with you. "'I'm going to make that skipper go back "'and pick up the part of the cargo that he left floating in the sea. "'Then I'm going to make him take us into Boxhaven Bay.' "'Quite a program,' nodded Ned White. "'You're not armed, are you? "'No, why should I be?'

"'You'll have to be as a member of, of a prize crew, Gunners' mate, a service revolver, and box of cartridges for Mr. White. Very good, sir. Jack next gave the order to run in close to the velvet. Presently, with Jake at the wheel, Skipper Redbeard stepped to the rail. Stranger? He bawled? You'll have to shear off. You're a power vessel, and you're not giving this sailing craft all the sea room she needs. That easy style of conversation won't wash your flag, Jack called back grimly.

This is the United States submarine grant. We desire to board you and have fired two shots to bring you two. Will you lay two and stand back for us to board? Not if you sink me for refusing, came Redbeard's do we answer. Then we're coming aboard anyway, and the risk be on your own head, Jack Benson retorted. Turning to the gunner's mate, he added, "'Mate, I shall leave you on board as acting commanding officer. "'You have a two seamen, so I shall leave them both on board.

"'You have a full engine-room crew. "'You will be able to take the grant into Boxhaven Bay and reach mooring safely. "'I can spare you one of the two seamen, sir,' urged the gunner's mate. "'You will need him more than I, sir.' No, it would not be right to cripple this government craft to that extent. Mr. White and I will be able to take care of the two men on board the velvet. As soon as we are aboard, and you receive my signal, mate, you will head for Boxhaven Bay. Very good, sir.

Now run in as closely as you can to the schooner's windward side without sinking her. Try to run up within two or three feet of her rail, and Mr. White and I will jump for it. I will put you so close, sir, promised the gunner's mate, that you will be able to step aboard. Be careful, mate, not to injure either the schooner or this craft, Jack ordered. Aye, aye, sir. Ned held his loaded revolver in his hand. Better put that in your coat pocket unless Skipper Redbeard starts something. Benson advised his own revolver was out of sight, though his sword still hung at his side. Shear off. Shove off, I tell you, raged Skipper Redbeard, as the submarine lunged up dangerously near.

Keep your wheel steady, my man, Jake, shouted Jack. The deck watch of the grant covered Jake with his rifle, in case the helmsman try to throw the schooner off of her course at the moment of boarding. Such a trick might very easily be played. Drop off and let him fall in the water, hissed Skipper Redbeard. but Jake glanced sullenly at that Navy rifle covering him and took his own orders. There was a slight bump as the moving Grant lay alongside the schooner underway. Jack sprang to the velvet's deck, followed by Ned. The next instant, the submarine drew off.

Take your course to Box Haven Bay, Gunners' mate, Lieutenant Jack directed. Aye, aye, sir. The Grant started on her way. Red beard, his arms folded, surveyed the young naval officer with a sullen glare. What do you reckon you're doing on board this craft, young man? The skipper demanded. I have seized it in the name of the United States government, Jack replied, as he walked past the skipper to the stern. But we're Americans, and this isn't wartime either, jeered the skipper harshly.

You're seized on a charge of smuggling, Benson retorted. "'Smuggling, tonight?' "'Snarled the skipper. "'Certainly. "'How can I have smuggled tonight? "'When I haven't been back anywhere, "'within the three-mile line,' scoffed the schooner's master. "'How about the other night?' Benson demanded.

"'What other night? "'The time you brought in perhaps forty thousand Havana cigars. "'What do you know about that? "'The most that I know is what I overheard you sing to each other. Of course, I also know where you took the cigars. Skipper Dave Hume looked a bit aghast over this thrust. You missed a box of cigars, didn't you? Benson went on coolly. They're in Washington now.

Deckhand Jake Denham gave a gasp. I reckon I know where my pistol went to now, he muttered sullenly. Yes, it's in the wardroom on the grant. Benson laughed. Shut up, you. You blithering idiot, yelled Skipper Hume, going toward the helmsman. Let Jake talk if he wants to, teased Lieutenant Jack. He isn't annoying me.

No, but he's. Hume checked his speech abruptly. Go on, urged Benson dryly. You go to blazes, roared Dave Hume. There's another direction in which I want to go first, suggested the submarine boy. Jake bring her up in the wind. Put your wheel over hard a starboard. Jake will do nothing of the sort. You uniformed young jack and apes, growled skipper Hume, you may think you command here, but you'll soon be satisfied if you're even a passenger.

We're going about and pick up the rest of that drifting cargo, or as much as we can find of it. Benson retorted sternly. We, but again Hume paused, for the submarine craft was still near enough so that a pistol-shot signal might be heard. Oh, well, growled the skipper grudgingly. Let this young Jack and Apes give you your orders, Jake. Thank you, Benson answered mockingly. For half an hour the schooner sailed along, Benson acting as sailing master, while Dave Hume sat amidsthips sullenly smoking a very black pipe.

We'll soon reach that floating stuff now, Benson declared. No, we won't, roared Hume rising. At least if we do, you'll have nothing to say about it. Jack and apes, you've run matters long enough. Come along, men. Forward, the hatch over the hold moved. Seven men sprang out. As they raced aft,

Jack caught the legend, third officer, on the visored cap of one of the seven. The other six looked like ordinary seamen. Here then were some of the missing crew and the third officer of the bingo. Their wet clothing showed that they had jumped overboard from the steamship, probably as the submarine ran up alongside the bingo. Show the jack-and-apes how you're fixed, roared Hume, his face aglow with triumph. Revolvers appeared in every hand. Jack and Ned had drawn theirs also, but they were two against nine, with not even the lights of any other vessel in sight. Put down your weapons, boys, advised hume dryly. The jig is up for you both if you don't. We happen to be the kind of men who

don't propose to be taken. Put your weapons down. and drop into the hold forward. Then we'll drop the hatch over you and padlock it. If you do what I tell you, probably that will save your lives, but nothing else will. We don't propose to be taken. End of Chapter 23. Recording by John Brandon. Chapter 24 of the Submarine Boys and the Smugglers by Victor G. Durham.

This labor Vox recording is in the public domain. Recording by John Brandon Chapter 24 Conclusion Neither do we propose to surrender called Lieutenant Jack Benson coolly Jake get away from that wheel As denim didn't move fast enough

Jack seized him hurling him several feet away It doesn't make any difference If there are a hundred of you here backed by a battery of artillery the United States Navy is still in charge of this vessel. Go forward, every one of you, but Jake, and climb down into that hold. You see us going, don't you? Leard Hume. Now, boy, put down your pistol, or you soon won't have any choice about what happens to you.

Drop your own weapon, and put up your hands, Benson commanded, sternly covering the skipper. It's time to settle with him, men, cried Hume raising his own weapon. Hume's pistols spit fire, but so did Jax. A second later. The skipper missed, then sank to the deck, for he had been hit. It was the third officer's turn next. Benson shot him down, then turned the weapon on another man. Ned White, not a whit behind, began firing, too.

For a few moments the air was full of spiteful flashes of fire. Shot after shot was fired in the dark night. Five men of the smugglers were down when the other four, throwing their weapons overboard, threw up their hands, shouting their surrender. Are you men sure that you've had enough, Lieutenant Jack demanded? You bet we are, replied one of the seamen from the bingo. How about you, Jake Denham?

Benson asked turning, Whose orders are you going to take now? Yours, Jake agreed sullenly. Ned, keep your eyes open, but go and pick up the pistols of men who've been hit, Jack directed, throw their weapons overboard. This was quickly done,

no one of the cowed lot, now offering any opposition. But you wouldn't do this if you hadn't hit me so hard, growled, Skipper Dave Hume. And you wouldn't have been hit at all if you had behaved yourself, Jack retorted. You uninjured men who have surrendered, get together, and help those wounded men to the cabin. Look after them as well as you can.

Did you get hit? asked Ned in a low tone. Don't believe I have a scratch. One bullet kissed my left hand, White declared, holding up that member. around which he had wrapped a handkerchief. That's too bad, murmured Benson. Too bad, eh? I'm tickled to death. Benson, I've actually sustained a wound while serving as a volunteer in the Navy.

My father will be proud of me when he hears about it. He'll have reason to be, Jack nodded. You put up a good fight against odds. That was easy enough, scoffed Ned. all I had to do was follow your lead. Jake Denham, in the meantime, had brought the schooner back to her course. By the time that the wounded men had been placed in the cabin, the velvet was inside of several floating packing cases.

We can't stop to make too long a search, Jack explained. But I want two or three of these cases as evidence. Accordingly, when near enough, the schooner's boat was lowered, the three remaining men from the bingo comprising her crew. Three large packing cases were removed and hoisted to the deck of the velvet. Each case proved to be covered with waterproof material so that the saltwater could not injure its contents. White, will you kindly mark these cases in such a way that they may afterwards be able to

identify them, Jack requested. Ned complied with the request. Jake, you may keep the wheel until we're fairly started on our homeward course, Benson added. Then I will give you a relief with one of these other husky chaps. Not going to pick up any more cases, then, White asked. No, common humanity requires that we now get the wounded men as speedily as possible to a place where they may have surgical aid, replied the submarine boy. With a fresher wind springing up, the velvet made Boxhaven Bay in about two hours.

Jack directed the schooner's course as close as prudent to the Grant, now lying snug and secure, at her moorings. Deckwatch, ahoy, Jack shouted. Aye, sir. Is the gunner's mate at hand. Here, sir, replied the mate, stepping out from the turret. I am Lieutenant Benson. I know your voice, sir. Mate, you will have to leave the engine room force in charge of deck and all.

Bring your two men ashore in the gig and report armed at the Velvet's pier. Very good, sir. Hurry. Aye, aye, sir. Jake was at the wheel, as the schooner gently approached her pier. With so many hands at the sheets, Lieutenant Jack was able to make an unusually neat landing job of it. Nor had he been long at the dock when the gunners' mate and two seamen reported, armed with rifles. Take charge of the deck, mate, Jack ordered. Let no one ashore or aboard without my order. Very good, sir. Say, you ought to let me go, wind Jake Denham. Think how I've worked for you tonight. I also remember that you fired on. I also remember that you fired on

us in the mix-up. Jack retorted dryly, you're one of the principal prisoners, Jake. After your skipper, you're really it. Ned was hurried off up to the Hotel Bel Air to summon such medical aid as could be had. Jack in the meantime stretched his legs strolling up and down the pier. Three country physicians responded to the call. When they arrived, one by one, Jack passed them on board. After the third physician had come, Jack looked up in time to see five men hurrying onto the pier. Halt! cried one of the seamen from the grant, throwing his rifle to port arms. No admittance to this pier.

Who commands there? called one of the party as the five halted. Lieutenant Benson, may I have a word with him, demanded the speaker. Jack walked over to the group. I reckon you'll be glad to see us, Lieutenant, smile the spokesman of the five. We're Secret Servicemen. He threw back his coat. The others doing, likewise,

all wore the official badges of the Secret Service. Any other credentials? asked Lieutenant Jack cautiously. Yes, this letter. By the aid of lighted matches. Benson was able to read the letter. It was from Secretary Sanders and introduced the chief of this squad of Secret Servicemen.

The leader's name was Watts. I'm glad enough indeed to see you. Jack greeted them, offering his hand. Mr. Watts, are you authorized to relieve me officially of this outfit that I now find at my hands? I'll take charge, nodded the Secret Service leader. and I shall also be glad to have something of a statement from you. I've been looking for you people all along, Jack smiled.

You left Washington late, didn't you? We left Washington within two hours after the department received your communication. We've had quite a few looks at your craft, Mr. Benson, from the shore. Yet you didn't come out and introduce yourselves. We could work much better in the shade. laughed Watts. We haven't been idle, though, as you'll soon learn. But show me what you have on board.

Be quick about it, if possible, begged Jack. One of my officers has been missing since yesterday afternoon. I must find out what has become of him. Do you mean Mr. Summers? asked Watts. Yes, have you heard? Mr. Summers is at the Bel Air now, replied the Secret Service leader. I thought White would have sent you word. But if he hasn't, I'll tell you what happened.

It seems that Summers knocked down in Washington, an almost half-witted fellow who spoiled one of his new shoes. The half-witted one, Wimpins, a would-be actor, is filling a summer engagement at the Bel-Air as a waiter. Wimpins had the afternoon off yesterday. He saw Summers going by, and trailed him out into the country. Wimpin struck Mr. Summers down with a club,

then terrified at his own cowardly act ran away. We overheard last night at the hotel that Mr. Summers was missing. We suspected the smugglers, and so began a very thorough investigation. We found that Summers had been picked up by a farmer driving over the road. He took Mr. Summers to his house,

then sent for a physician, We had Mr. Summers brought to the Bel Air, where he has the quietest room in the house. But how is he doing? Jack broke in impatiently. Oh, he'll be all right. If brain fever doesn't sit in, that's the danger now. While we were on the matter, we found out about Wimbens and watched his strange, frightened behavior until we were impressed with his guilt. Then we had a mysterious tip sent to the local constables who went after Wimpens. The lad broke down, confessed, and is now in the local lock-up. The worst scared baby anarchist you ever saw.

He expects to go to the electric chair for murder. It's strange, though, that Dr. Poole didn't tell you anything about Summers. Poole is taking care of your friend, and he's one of the physician. sent down here a little while ago. Come aboard and let me turn this matter over to you, begged Jack. I must get to F. Summers without loss of a minute. In the cabin of the schooner, the three physicians were finishing their work of washing and bandaging the wounds. Dave Hume and third officer LeFoy of the bingo were the most severely injured of the five men who had been shot.

None of the patients, however, was considered to be in a serious condition. Oh, Mr. Benson, you'll think me an absent-minded fool, cried Dr. Poole. Mr. White particularly charged me to tell you about your brother, officer, Mr. Summers, and I forgot. The work here made me absent-minded. I'm going up to see Mr. Summers right away, Jack declared. You'd only be wasting your time, Dr. Poole objected. Mr. Summers hasn't a very clear head and wouldn't recognize you. Is he as badly off as that, asked Benson?

Pailing? He has been seriously hurt, of course. But I have some hopes that Mr. Summers' head will be clear by tomorrow. In that case, he will be up and around inside of a week, the physician answered. However, don't go to see him today. Put it off until I sanction you're dropping in at your friend's bedside. Who's taking care of summers, then? An excellent trained nurse who happens to be summering here.

So, though terribly anxious, Jack was forced to go about other duties than the care of his chum. When Watts took charge, he had the uninjured prisoners remorse. moved to the county jail, while those of the smugglers who had been wounded were sent to the hospital attached to the jail. Jack withdrew his three men from the schooner returning with them to the grant. Half an hour after he went on board, Ned White, resplendent in spotless duck clothing, came off from shore. Before the two had finished breakfast, a wire came from Ensign Hal Hastings to the effect that he had turned ship and prisoners over to the proper revenue authorities at New York and was now on his way back. Hal and his nine seamen were on board in time for the noon meal.

What do you think now of the legal side of my conduct last night, Lieutenant Jack asked Ned, as the three friends lunched in the wardroom? The smugglers will be convicted. They'll have to be, Ned admitted. The very act of that third officer and several of his men leaping from the bingo and taking refuge on the schooner, coupled with their pistol attack on you, will settle the doubts of any trial jury. The men are as good as convicted. Jack Benson had already, of course, sent a telegram to the Navy Department,

announcing the success of his work. The afternoon he devoted to making up a formal typewritten report to be forwarded by mail. While he was so engaged, he received from the Navy Department a telegram of congratulation for himself, his brother officers, and the crew. Concerning the smugglers, there is not much more to be told.

The captain and other officers of the Bengo were duly. convicted of smuggling and sentenced to the penitentiary for a term of years. So were the seamen, who had jumped overboard with the third officer, and had been found on the velvet. These men, on account of the pistol battle, received still heavier sentences, as did Skipper Hume and deckhand Jake. As it proved, besides the bingo, another steamer running between New York and Havana had been engaged also in smuggling. The name of the ship on the Havana run was easily ascertained by Secret Servicemen at Havana, who having sampled boxes from the smuggled cargo easily traced that shipment from the manufacturer

in Havana to the smuggling ship in question. So the captain, two watch officers, and a few members of the crew on the Havana steamship were also convicted. The brains of this gang of smugglers, however, was a syndicate of three wealthy rascals in New York, who had controlled all of these smuggling transactions. These three men were promptly caught as soon as some of the other prisoners had confessed their guilt. The three leaders in New York are therefore now serving long sentences of imprisonment. The smuggling along this part of the New Jersey Coast was completely broken up. It was estimated afterwards that the United States government had been losing customs duties

amounting to nearly a million and a half dollars per year. That, in other words, was about the amount saved to the National Treasury by the clever work of Lieutenant Jack Benson and his junior officers on the submarine boat. It was ten days before F. Summers was able to, be up and about. By this time the grant was at Newport, Rhode Island, engaged on a real set of practice work there. On the 12th day after having been struck, F hired an automobile with chauffeur and was taken over to the county jail. He went there to see Young Wimpins. When Wally was brought into the visitor's room and saw who his caller was, he turned deathly pale,

then tried to bolt. Don't let him touch me, pleaded Wally, as the jail guard dragged him forward. Why so tremulous, Summers demanded, the only way that I want to touch you is to shake hands with you. Will you shake? Do you mean it? asked Wally Wimpins, incredulously. Yes, of course. F. held out his hand.

Try to forgive me if you. you can for what I did to you, faltered Wally. I'm going to try to do something more practical, smiled F, as he took the unfortunate's hand in his own. I was kept in after you patted me on the head for only ten days, but a lawyer has told me that they're likely to keep you in for from three to five years. That doesn't strike me as quite fair. I shall be glad enough to escape the electric chair for, faltered Wally. I find that I am neither as brave nor as desperate as I wanted to think myself. I'm going to try to get you off, F announced. What? Gasp Wally Wimpens, unable to believe his ears.

Yes, I'm going to see the district attorney smiled Summers and show him that you've already been in longer than I was kept in. If the district attorney is a real nice sort of a chap, I think I can show him the right course to pursue. F was as good as his word, though he had to move quickly, for he longed to be back on duty with his comrades. Wally was allowed to go on a suspended sentence on condition that he immediately leave the state of New Jersey. Wimpins has given up both the stage and his former notions of vengeance. He is now employed as a shipping clerk. He is now employed as a shipping clerk in his shoepeg factory in Indiana. Ned White enjoyed to the full his 30 days on the grant. He became so accustomed to going beneath old ocean's surface that he soon ceased to think of

it when the boat was submerged. When his leave was up, White, bad regretful farewell to his young hosts. Right to us, when you get back to your desk in Washington, urged Lieutenant Jack Benson. You may hear from me in the newspapers right away, suggested Ned, with a dark look. When I return to the State Department, my first business is going to be to inflict an awful punishment on that fellow Jones, the author of the Get Rich Quickly saving scheme. What do you think of my idea of lowering Jones to the top of the Washington Monument and then throwing him off? Don't do it, begged Def solemnly.

Profit by the Wimpen's example. Work out your spite on Jones by letting him die a natural death. However, we shall again hear from our young submarine friends. Their further doings of importance are described fully in the next volume of this series, which is published under the title The Submarine Boys' Secretary. missions or beating an ambassador's game. This exciting narrative has to do with the intrigues that set nations by their ears. It gives many a glimpse of the way that governments conduct their affairs with each other.

Our readers will find in this volume a wonderfully fascinating history of events in the affairs of nations that have hitherto not been made public. The plot is a thrilling one, the action swift, and the adventures extraordinary. In this new volume, we shall also meet several old friends. The End of The Submarine Boys and the Smugglers by Victor G. Durham. Recording by John Brandon