Dick signaled the engine room for just enough speed to give the submarine steerageway.
"We're under water so much," said Dick, in answer to the officer's question, "that we can't fly our colors."
"Is that a government vessel?"
"Not now, but she will be as soon as we get her to Mare Island Navy Yard."
"I'd like to send a man aboard of her to look her over," said the captain. "Come closer alongside and heave to."
"We can't allow you to look her over," said Dick. "There are improvements on this boat that no other nation is going to get hold of."
Dick was not very tactful. Whenever he wanted to make a point, he took the shortest way to it. His answer seemed to anger the officer.
"You're talking to a captain in the Chilian navy," cried the officer, an ostrich plume in his hat quivering with the wrath that shook his body. "If I want to look that boat over I'll do it. Who's your captain?"
"Better let me come up and talk with him, Dick," said Matt, who, at the foot of the iron ladder, had heard all that had passed between his chum and the captain of the war ship.
Instead of coming down the ladder, Dick got out on the deck.