"Once upon a time," murmured Hal, "we thought there was sufficient
danger, just in going out on the ocean in a submarine torpedo craft, and
diving below the surface."
"Yet we found that submarine travel wasn't really dangerous," pursued
Captain Jack. "Really, riding around in a submarine craft seems as safe,
and twice as pleasant, as cruising in any other kind of yacht."
"After we've gotten more used to having hundreds of pounds of gun-cotton
on board," smiled Hal, "I don't suppose we'll ever think of the danger in
that stuff, either."
Jack unlocked the door, swinging it open. Then both young men passed
inside the red shed.
It needed hardly more than a glance, from an observing person, to make
certain that neither boy was likely to be much bothered by any ordinary
form of danger.
For a number of months, now, Jack Benson and Hal Hastings had lived all
but continually aboard submarine torpedo boats. They had operated such
craft, when awake, and had dreamed of doing it when asleep. Being youths
of intense natures, and unusually quick to learn, they had long before
qualified as experts in handling submarine craft.
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