“In the days to follow, sir,” put in Benson, earnestly, “I think we can more than make up for this delay. We won't have the traitor aboard after this.”
“What earthly object can the fellow have had for wanting to damage your motors?” demanded the naval officer, looking hopelessly puzzled.
“I can't even make a sane guess, sir,” Jack Benson admitted.
An hour and a half later the “Hudson” and the two submarines headed back for a safe little bay on the coast. Here the three craft anchored for the night.
CHAPTER XVII: THE EVIL GENIUS OF THE WATER FRONT
It was nearly eight in the evening when the three craft were snug at anchor.
The bay was a small one, hardly worthy of the name. The only inhabited part of the shore thereabouts consisted of the fishing village known as Blair's Cove, a settlement containing some forty houses.
Hardly had all been made snug aboard the [pg 168] “Farnum” when Jack, standing on the platform deck after the cadets had been transferred to the “Hudson” for the night, saw a small boat heading out from shore.
“Is that one of the new submarine crafts?” hailed a voice from the bow of the boat.