Benson laughed, though he said, warningly:
"I reckon we'll do as well to drop calling the gunboat the 'Dad boat' instead of the 'parent vessel.'"
"Well, you needn't bother at all about the conning tower to-day," wound up Eph, glancing at his watch. "It's after half-past three at this moment and I understand we're to drop anchor about five o'clock."
So skipper Jack settled back with a comfortable sigh. Truth to tell, it was pleasant not to have any immediate duty, for his head throbbed, every now and then, and he felt dizzy when he tried to walk.
"Who could have hit me in that fashion, last night, and for what earthly purpose?" wondered the boy. "I've had some enemies, in the past, but I don't know a single person about Dunhaven, now who has any reason for wishing me harm."
Never a thought crossed his mind of suspecting Sam Truax. That worthy had come with a note from David Pollard, the inventor of the boats. Sam, therefore, must be all right, the boy reasoned.
Jack lay back on the upholstered seat. He sat with his eyes closed most of the time, though he did not doze. At last, however, he heard the engine room bell sound for reduced speed. Getting up, the young captain made his way to the foot of the conning tower stairs.
"Making port, Hal?" he called.
"Yep," came the reply. "We'll be at anchor in five minutes more."
Jack made his way slowly to the door of the engine room.