"Oof ve hat a gannon, Misder Glennie," yelled Carl, "ve vould gif der atmiral's salute."
A flush ran through the ensign's cheeks.
"Who is that person, King?" demanded Glennie, pointing to Dick.
"Mister King," corrected Matt. "This, Mr. Glennie," proceeded the king of the motor boys with mock gravity, "is my friend, Mr. Dick Ferral. The Dutchman on the boat is another friend—Mr. Carl Pretzel. The hands are Mr. Speake, Mr. Gaines, and Mr. Clackett. This colored gentleman is Mr. Scipio Jones. Now that we are all acquainted, Mr. Glennie, may I ask you if you are coming aboard to stay?"
"I am," was the sharp rejoinder. "Those were my orders from the captain of the Seminole."
Matt caught a rope which Carl threw to him and stepped to the rounded deck of the Grampus.
"The submarine's all right, Dick," said he, "and hasn't a dent in her anywhere. Go ashore and get the gasolene. Have you the hydrometer in your pocket?"
"Aye, aye, matey," answered Dick.
"Then be sure and test the gasolene thoroughly."
As Dick was rowed away he once more removed his hat ostentatiously in passing the launch. Ensign Glennie disregarded the mocking courtesy and motioned his boatman to place the launch close to the submarine.