Then, with a yell, the midshipmen leaped in on one side, Jack leading the submarine forces on the other. Mr. Merriam's trip and Jack's smashing blow with the fist brought Truax down to the floor in a heap.
"Now, cart this human rubbish out of here!" ordered Jack Benson, sternly.
"Don't hit him—he isn't man enough to be worthy of a blow!"
Swooping down upon the prostrate one, Hal and the midshipmen seized Sam
Truax by his arms and legs, carrying him bodily out of the engine room.
"Williamson," commanded Captain Jack, "stop the speed."
"In the race, sir. We—"
"Stop the speed," repeated Benson.
"You're the captain," admitted Williamson. Grasping the twin levers of the two motors he swung them backward.
"Disregard any signal to go ahead until we've had a chance to inspect the motors," added Captain Jack.
Then the submarine skipper darted out into the cabin.
Sam Truax lay sprawling on the floor. Midshipman Merriam, a most cheerful smile on his face, sat across the fellow, while Hal and the other two midshipmen stood by, looking on.