“Not unless you have a union card!” protested Jack, laughing.
“That’s all right,” retorted Jimmie with a grin as he wrinkled a freckled nose at the other. “I was going to think about a scab, anyhow, so I don’t need a card. Besides, this is on overtime!”
“All right, you win!” declared Jack, submissively. “Go ahead!”
“If you’ll promise to never, never tell, I’ll let you in on the scheme!” whispered Jimmie, glancing about to make sure that no strangers were within earshot. “Do you solemnly promise?”
“I do!” answered the boys in chorus, anxious to receive the news.
“Then here it is: If we could paint the name ‘U-13’ on that tub there’s nothing to prevent our getting away in it!”
“Hush, Jimmie!” cautioned Ned, in a startled tone.
“Hush nothing!” declared the other boldly. “It’s now or never! The destroyer’s gone—everything’s gone that could chase us. Mackinder’s loose on this island. He’ll make us trouble if we stay. If we go now we are safe from pursuit until another German boat comes in unless they flash the news by wireless. In that case, we have an even chance of getting away. If we don’t go now tell me when we can get home?”
“I guess you’re right, Jimmie, but how are you going to work it?”
“Simply putter along this afternoon,” explained the lad, “fixing the wiring and so on. If necessary, rip out some and replace it. We can get in one another’s way enough to kill a lot of time. After supper we’ll manage to slip back to the submarine, paint ‘U-13’ on the side, every man to his post, let go lines easy and skedaddle for the open sea.”