It was a moment of tremendous relief for Mr. Mayhew.
“Call the tugboat captain aboard, and I’ll settle with him at my own expense,” proposed the lieutenant commander.
“I trust you will think of nothing of the sort,” replied Jacob Farnum, quickly. “In this harbor I wish to consider you and your vessel as my guests.”
Again Mr. Mayhew expressed his thanks. Presently, glancing ashore through the night, he asked:
“Mostly flat, as to the surface,” Mr. Farnum replied. “If your question goes further, there are some fine roads and several handsome estates within a few miles of here. Mr. Mayhew, won’t you and a couple of your officers come on shore with me? I’ll telephone for my car and put you over quite a few miles this evening.”
“Delighted,” replied the commander of the gunboat.
One of the “Hudson’s” cutters being now in the water alongside, the party went ashore in this. Jack, after bidding the naval officers good-night, found Hal and Eph, who had just come ashore from supper on board the “Farnum.”
“No sailing orders yet, I suppose?” Hal asked.
“None,” Jack replied. “I reckon we’ll start, all right, some time to-morrow morning.”
“I don’t know,” replied Jack. “We’ve few friends around here we need to take the trouble to say good-bye to. We could call on Mrs. Farnum, but I imagine we’d run into the naval party up at the Farnum house. We want to keep a bit in the background with these naval officers, except when they may ask for our company.”
“Let’s take a walk about the old town, then,” Hal suggested.
So the three submarine boys strolled across the shipyard. Just as they were passing through the gate a man of middle height and seemingly about thirty years of age quickened his pace to reach them.
“Is this shipyard open nights?” he queried.
“This letter is addressed to Mr. Farnum,” went on the stranger, “but Mr. Pollard told me I could hand it to you.”
Captain Jack took the letter from the unsealed envelope.
“My dear Farnum,” ran the enclosure, “since you’re short a good machinist for the engine room of the ’Farnum,’ the bearer, Samuel Truax, seems to me to be just the man you want. I’ve examined him, and he understands the sort of machinery we use. Better give him a chance.” The note was signed in David Pollard’s well-known, scrawly handwriting.