"But what I see ahead,
or feel as though I see, is some kind of disaster. Now, you'll think
I'm a sailor-croaker, won't you, Jack?"
"Disaster?" repeated Jack, slowly. "Well, to be sure, we've the outfit
on board for a disaster, if we wanted one. Two real torpedoes that hold,
between them, four hundred pounds of gun-cotton--or danger-calico, as
Williamson would call it. But cheer up, old fellow. There's no danger,
after all. Williamson and his pipe are on the other boat."
"Oh, of course nothing is really going to happen," laughed Hal. "It is
just the feeling that is over me. That's all."
It was fully three o'clock by the time Lieutenant Danvers decided they
were far enough out to sea, and far enough from any craft in those
waters. Not a stick or a stack of another vessel showed within ten
miles of them. The scow was accordingly cast loose and allowed to
drift.
Captain Jack was at the tower wheel again, as Eph and the two sailors
returned from setting the scow loose.
"We've got to be sure to record one good hit against that old barge of
stone," muttered Lieutenant Danvers, who stood beside the youthful
submarine commander.
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