Hal looked out
into the corridor to see what had caused the disturbance.
"Look a-here!" sounded the voice of machinist Williamson, in an injured
tone. "Here I am, looking about for a quiet place for a five minutes'
smoke. Captain Benson sends me out to the 'Hastings,' telling me that
it will be all right there. So I light my pipe on the platform deck
and go below. Great Jehosh! The first thing I run on to is a couple
of torpedoes, about a mile long and two hundred yards thick, loaded up
with gun-cotton or pistol-satin enough to blow the ocean up into the
sky. And I haven't had my smoke yet!"
"That's all right," called Hal, quietly, as the machinist's somewhat
shaking voice died out. "You're always safe, man, in following any lead
that Captain Jack Benson gives you. Go back on the 'Hastings' and have
your smoke out."
"But those two torpedoes, loaded up to the muzzles with artillery-felt,
or some other exploding kind of dry-goods!" protested the machinist.
"Those two torpedoes are dummies," laughed Hal Hastings. "They're
aboard just for dummy torpedo practice.
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