"The ghost of the submarine, and the identity of the anarchists who blew up the Easton hotel."
"Perhaps both riddles may be solved before we get back to Maine," answered Mr. Henderson.
They both were, sooner, and in stranger ways than either of the boys expected. That night it was Jack's first watch on deck. The ship was speeding on, and by the air the boy knew they were approaching icebergs. At midnight a strange and sudden chill in the air made him look up.
Almost dead ahead was a big berg. He quickly shut off the engine, and narrowly avoided a collision. Then happening to glance back he saw, standing near the companionway leading down into the man-hole a ghostly white shape.
"I'll find out what you are this time, or go overboard with you," said Jack to himself, clenching his teeth. He crawled along the deck until he thought he was within leaping distance of the weird white thing. Then he made a leap.
He landed on something soft, which, the moment he struck it, let out a yell that sounded loud on the quiet night. Then the thing began to fight. But Jack fought back and held on bravely.
"Here! What are you tryin' to do?" exclaimed a voice in his ear.
"What are you trying to do?" asked Jack indignantly, finding that the words came from the "ghost."
"Nice way to treat a man! Half kill him!" the white thing went on. "Just when I'm trying to get a little sleep you come along and pull me out of bed!"
"Why, it's Bill Jones," exclaimed Jack, as the light from the conning tower lamp fell on the face of the "ghost."