Then young Somers darted onto deck again, just in time to see the boat coming alongside. It brought two more marines, one of them a corporal. There were also two sailors. A cadet midshipman commanded them.
“Mr. Somers,” reported the cadet midshipman, “I am not intended to displace you from the command of this boat. I am here only with [pg 185] definite instructions in case you succeed in overhauling that white sloop.”
“What—” began Eph. Then he paused, with a half-grin. “Really,” he added, “I ought to know better than to quiz you about your instructions from your superior officer.”
“Yes, sir,” assented the midshipman, simply.
Eph turned on the current to the search-light, swinging the ray about the bay. Then, too impatient to sit in the conning tower, the submarine boy took his place by the deck wheel.
“Will your seamen cast loose from the moorings?” Somers asked.
“Yes, sir,” replied the midshipman.
“If there's anything wrong, good luck to you,” sounded the cool voice of Lieutenant Commander Mayhew, from the gunboat's rail.
“Thank you, sir.”
No sooner had the moorings been cast loose from than Eph sounded the slow speed ahead bell. Within sixty seconds the propellers of the “Farnum” were doing a ten-knot stunt, which was soon increased to fourteen.