“I'm afraid so,” nodded Jack. “We simply can't afford to lose this or any other race to the 'Pollard.'”
“Williamson knows that fully as well as we do, though,” Hal Hastings went on. “And Williamson—”
Of a sudden Hal stopped short. He half staggered, clutching at a rail, while his eyes stared and his lips twitched.
“Why—why—there's Williamson—aft on the deck!” muttered Hastings.
“What!”
Jack, too, wheeled like a flash. Back there in a crowd of cadets stood the machinist upon whom the submarine boys were depending for the best showing that the “Farnum” could make.
“Williamson up here!” gasped Hal. “And—”
“That fellow, Truax, all alone with the motors!” hissed Captain Jack. Then, after a second or two of startled silence:
“Come on, Hal!”
[pg 159] The naval cadets were too much absorbed in watching the race to have overheard anything. Williamson, too, standing at the rail, looking out over the water, had not yet discovered that Hal Hastings was up from the engine room.