The Submarine Boys on Duty Part 17

"Say, but she's the fine, light-riding boat!" cried the builder, joyously.

"Just as I thought she would be. Give her more speed, Benson."

So the speed was turned on, more and more. The "Pollard," as far as those aboard, could see, had the whole of that part of the ocean to herself. She was still headed due east, and was moving at last at the rate of seventeen of the twenty-one miles an hour of which she was believed to be capable.

Even at this rapid gait the semi-immersed "Pollard" rode splendidly, with hardly any vibration noticeable.

As he watched, instead of feeling the thrill of triumph that influenced the crew, David Pollard's face was whitening with anxiety. His face, almost ghastly in its look, was deeply furrowed.

"We're doing well enough on top of the water," he muttered, hoa.r.s.ely, at last, to the builder. "But will the boat dive? How will she run under water? I must--know!"

"Good enough! We'll soon know, then," replied Jacob Farnum. He pa.s.sed the word for Andrews, who came on deck. The ventilators were quickly shipped. Jack Benson shifted to the steersman's seat inside the conning tower. Sailing lights were turned off; the manhole cover was battened down securely. They were dependent, now, on the air-compressing equipment whenever the air aboard became unfit to breathe.

Wedged on either side of Jack Benson in that little conning tower stood the builder and the inventor.

"You attend to the first submerging, Farnum," begged the inventor.

"I--I'm afraid I'm too nervous."

The gasoline motor had just been shut off, the submarine now running at less speed under power from the electric motor.

Handling the controls in the conning tower, Mr. Farnum, not without a swift, shooting thrill of dread, opened the sea-valves to the water tanks. As the tanks filled the "Pollard" settled lower and lower in the water. They were beginning to go down. All who were aboard felt the keen, apprehensive quiver of the thing, shut in, as they were, as though soldered inside a huge metal can.

The platform deck was quickly level with the water's surface, though Jacob Farnum was not rushing things. Then the deck outside, as shown by the steady glow of the lights in the conning tower, went out of sight, the water rising around the tower.

They continued slowly to sink until the top of the conning tower was less than three feet above the waves.

"Now, just a little dive!" pleaded David Pollard. "Oh, merciful heaven!"

"Pa.s.s the word to brace yourselves for the dive!" bawled Mr. Farnum below, and Eph, stationed at the bottom of the spiral stairway, yelled the word to the engine room.

Now, the sea-valves of the forward diving tanks were opened. As the water rushed into them, changing the balance of the boat, the bow shot downward, making it difficult for all to keep their footing. It was as though they were sliding down an inclined plane.

Another lurch, and down they shot under the water, where men's nerves may well be tried!

CHAPTER XI

THE TRY-OUT IN THE DEPTHS

Pollard clutched at the stairway railing with both hands, his face hard-set, his eyes staring.

He was not afraid. In that supreme moment he could not know physical fear. It was the inventor's dread of failure that possessed him.

Jacob Farnum stood as one fascinated as he felt the boat plunging into the depths.

"Aren't you going to put us on an even keel, sir?" Jack called.

The warning was needful. In the exhilaration of that plunge Farnum was in danger of forgetting.

In a twinkling, now, however, he threw open the sea-valves of other tanks, amidships and aft, until the gauge showed that they were running on an even keel and forty feet below the surface. Their speed was now about five miles an hour, but could be increased.

Gradually, the ghastly lines on David Pollard's cheeks began to soften.

His eyes gleamed.

"There's nothing wrong! We can run anywhere!" he shouted.

Yet there was something of hysteria in his voice. Nor was it long before the others began to feel themselves similarly affected.

It was an eerie feeling that all hands had, running along like this, blind and guessing, in the depths. Pollard was the only one aboard who had ever been below before in a submarine boat. Though the rest had faced the chances coolly enough, they now began to feel the strain.

Even when it is broad daylight on the surface, with the sun shining brightly, the submarine boat, when a few fathoms below, is simply a blinded, groping monster. There is no way of illuming the depths of the ocean. Naval officers have suggested the placing of a powerful electric light at the bow of the submarine craft, but, when tried, it has been found quite useless. The light will not project far enough ahead, through the dense water, to do any more than make the surrounding darkness all the more trying to brave men's nerves.

"Take the wheel, Dave; it will steady you to have something to do,"

spoke the builder to the inventor. "As soon as you get the wheel, turn the course to due south. Follow it to the line."

Jack Benson slid out of the helmsman's seat, giving way to the inventor, and stepped down the stairway.

At the foot he came upon Eph and Hal, standing there, their faces presenting a strange look.

"How do you find it?" asked Benson.

"Startling," replied Hal Hastings.

"Yet nothing is happening to us," contended Eph Somers, somewhat shaky in his tones. "It's just thinking what might happen--if we were to strike a water-logged old hull of some vessel, say."

"Or collide with a blue-fish," suggested Hal, with a short, nervous laugh.

"I suppose we'll be used to this, after a few more trips," laughed Jack, with an effort.

"Are _you_ scared, too?" asked Eph, keenly.

"Well, I can't say I feel wholly comfortable," admitted Jack Benson, candidly.

"Then you're sitting down on your fears pretty well," declared young Hastings, with an admiring look at his chum.

"We've got to," returned Jack, stoutly. "If we're to go into the submarine boat line we've got to learn to look as though we liked _anything_ under water."

"Let's take a look-in and see how Andrews likes it," proposed Eph.

Peeping through the door of the engine room they beheld the man there sitting bolt-upright on one of the leather-cushioned seats, staring hard at the wall opposite. He turned his head, however, as soon as he became aware of the presence of the submarine boys.

"Rather creepy, ain't it?" hailed Grant, his voice not as steady as usual.

"Think you're going to learn to like it?" demanded Benson.

"Well, I may get so I'll think this sort of thing the greatest going,"

drawled Andrews, "but I'm afraid a good, soft bed on land will always be a close second for me."