The Submarine Boys on Duty

Victor G. Durham

The Submarine Boys on Duty, by Victor G.

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Title: The Submarine Boys on Duty Life of a Diving Torpedo Boat
Author: Victor G. Durham

Release Date: November 12, 2005 [eBook #17054]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII)
E-text prepared by Jim Ludwig

Note: This is book one of eight of the Submarine Boys Series.

Life on a Diving Torpedo Boat

I. Two Boys Who Planned to Become Great II. The Fighting Chance III. Josh Owen Starts Trouble IV. The Trick of the Flashlight V. One Man's Dumfounded Face VI. Along the Trail of Trouble VII. When Thieves Fall Out VIII. A Swift Stroke for Honor IX. The Submarine Makes Its Bow to Old Ocean X. Under Water, Where Men's Nerves are Tried XI. The Try-Out in the Depths XII. The Discovery From the Conning Tower XIII. A High-Sea Mystery XIV. An Up-To-Date Revenge XV. The Courage That Rang True XVI. The Last Second of the Nick of Time XVII. In the Grip of Horror XVIII. The Last Gasp of Despair XIX. Jack Strikes the Key to the Mystery XX. "One On" the Watch Officer XXI. The Man Who Dropped the Glass XXII. A Dive That was Like Magic XXIII. Wanted, Badly--One Steward! XXIV. Conclusion
"So this is Dunhaven?" inquired Jack Benson.
"Ye-es," slowly responded Jabez Holt, not rising from the chair in which he sat tilted back against the outer wall on the hotel porch.
"It looks like it," muttered Hal Hastings, under his breath.
"Doesn't look like a very bustling place, does it?" asked Jack, with a smile, as he set down a black, cloth-covered box on the porch and leisurely helped himself to a chair.
The box looked as though it might contain a camera. "Tin-type fellers," thought Holt to himself, and did not form a very high estimate of the two boys, neither of whom was more than sixteen years of age.
Just now, both boys were dusty from long travel on foot, which condition, at a merely first glance, concealed the fact that both were neatly enough, even if plainly, dressed.
"Huh!" was all the response Jabez Holt made to Jack's pleasant comment. Hal, however, not in the least discouraged by a reception that was not wholly flattering, set down a box not unlike Jack's, and also something hidden in a green cloth cover that suggested a camera tripod. Hal helped himself to one of the two remaining chairs on the porch of the little hotel.
"Takin' pictures?" asked Jabez Holt, after a pause spent in chewing at a tooth-pick.
"Yes, some of the time," Jack assented. "It helps out a bit when two fellows without rich fathers take a notion to travel."
"I s'pose so," grunted Jabez. He was not usually considered, by his fellow-townsmen, a disagreeable fellow, but a hotel keeper must always preserve a proper balance of suspicion when dealing with strangers, and especially strangers who follow callings that do not commonly lead to prosperity. Probably "Old Man" Holt, as he was known, remembered a few experiences with the tribe of itinerant photographers. At any rate he did not mean to make the mistake of being too cordial with these young representatives of the snap-shot art.
"Is there any business around here?" asked Jack, after awhile.
"Oh, there's a Main Street, back uptown, that has some real pretty homes," admitted the hotel keeper, "an' some likely-lookin' cross streets. Dunhaven ain't an awful homely town, as ye'll see after you've walked about a bit."
"But is there any business here?" insisted Hal Hastings, patiently.
"I guess maybe you're business photografters, then?" suggested the hotel keeper.
"What kinds of business are there here?" asked Jack.
Jabez Holt cast away a much-mangled toothpick and placed another in his mouth before he replied, with a chuckle:
"Well, I reckon about the only business here that the town is doing any talkin' about at present is one that don't want no photografters around."
"And what may that business be?" persisted Jack.
"Well, down to Farnum's boatyard they're putting up a craft that's known as 'Pollard's Folly.'"
"And why wouldn't they want that photographed?" demanded young Benson.
"Because it's one of them sure-death boats they hope to sell the Government, and the United States Government don't care 'bout havin' its war craft secrets snap-shotted," replied Jabez Holt.
"Didn't you speak of Pollard's boat?" demanded Jack, his eyes agleam with sudden interest.
"Ye-es," admitted Mr. Holt, slowly. "A boat that'll drown its score of men, I reckon, an' then lay somewhere an' eat itself
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