As Eph might be needed on deck, at any instant, he stood leaning against
the conning tower.
David Pollard was missing. He had gone below, had taken off his coat,
and was standing in shirt-sleeves, ready to render any possible aid to
Hal Hastings, the young chief engineer on whom so much depended in the
six hours to come.
Now that one of the supreme moments in his career had come, Jacob Farnum
hardly dared breathe. He said not a word to Eph, who, just as anxious,
stood at his elbow.
As the submarine craft scurried over the waves, each seeking its best
place for a start over the line, the "Zelda" came up within sixty yards,
running alongside for a moment or two.
John C. Rhinds, standing at the rail of his own craft, with what was
intended to be a smile his face, waved his hat wildly at Jacob Farnum.
"Good luck to you, Farnum--and to us!" bellowed Rhinds. "Of course,
I'd like to win today, but if you've the better boat, go ahead and
leave us at the finish. May the best craft win, no hard feelings!
Fair sport all the way through, Farnum, old and to you, Benson--may
you never be in fitter shape than to-day!"
"The old hypocrite!" gasped Jack, vengefully "I'm mighty sorry I can't
head this boat around and run it straight down his lying throat!"
"Then he'd surely gobble you up!" laughed Lieutenant Danvers.
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