"All right, Mr. Secretary," laughed the same young man. "We are coming aboard."
"Aboard of what?" inquired Eph.
"Why, you're submarine boat, of course," came the answer.
"Guess not!" responded Eph, briskly.
"Why, yes; we're newspaper men, and it's business, not fun with us."
The boat containing the speaker lay lightly alongside at this moment. In another moment the young man in the bow would have clambered up on deck, but Eph called down to him:
"Hold on! Stay where you are. My orders are to hit any fellow with a boathook who tries to come up here in the captain's absence."
"But we've got to have a look at your boat, don't you see?" insisted the newspaper man, though, as Eph carelessly picked up a boathook, the would-be caller waited prudently in the bow of his boat.
Young Somers was surely in a state of uncertainty. He had strict orders to allow no one aboard unless he knew them to be United States naval officers. On the other hand, the auburn-haired boy knew how necessary it was for the submarine folks to keep on good terms with newspaper writers if the American people were to be favorably impressed with the claims of the Pollard boat.
"Now, see here," said Eph, balancing the boathook, "I'm sorry to stand here making a noise like a crank, but have you any idea at all what orders mean on shipboard? And I'm under the strictest orders not to let anyone aboard."