But it was all too great a puzzle. Benson finally decided to stop guessing until some future time. He went on with his dressing. Finally, with his blouse buttoned as exactly as ever, and his cap placed gingerly on his aching head, he opened the stateroom door, stepping out into the cabin.
Accustomed as he was to sea motion, the slight roll of the "Farnum" did not bother the young skipper much. He soon reached the bottom of the short spiral stairway leading up into the conning tower. Up there, in the helmsman's seat, he espied Hal Hastings with his hands employed at t he steering apparatus. Hal was looking out over the water, straight ahead.
"Sailing these days without word from your captain, eh?" Jack called, in a voice that carried, though it shook.
"Gracious—you?" ejaculated Hal, looking down for an instant. Then
Hastings pressed a button connecting with a bell in the engine room.
"I'm going up there with you," Jack volunteered.
"Right-o, if you insist," clicked Eph Somers, appearing from the engine room and darting to the young skipper's side. True, Jack's head swam a bit dizzily as he climbed the stairs, but Eph's strong support made the task much easier. There was space to spare on the seat beside Hal, and into this Jack Benson sank.
"Say, you ought to sleep until afternoon," was Hastings's next greeting, but Jack was looking out of the conning tower at the scene around him.
The three craft were leaving the coast directly behind. About three hundred yards away, abeam, steamed the "Hudson" at a nine-knot gait.
"The 'Pollard' is on the other side of the gunboat, isn't she?" asked
Jack.
"Yes," Hal nodded.