t shed over there on your
starboard beam, and the front end of the submarine shed about four
points off your port bow."

Mr. Mayhew slowly manoeuvred his craft, while men stood on the deck
below, forward, prepared to heave the bow anchors.

"Go four points over to port, Mr. Trahern," instructed Mr. Mayhew.
"Now, back the engines--steady!"

Jack Benson opened his mouth wide. Then, as he saw the way the "Hudson"
was backing, he suddenly called:

"Slow speed ahead, quick, sir!"

"You said--" began Mr. Mayhew.

Gr-r-r-r! The stern of the gunboat dug its way into a sand ledge,
lifting the stern considerably.

"Slow speed ahead!" rasped Lieutenant Commander Mayhew, sharply.

But the gunboat could not be budged. She was stuck, stern on, fast in
the sand-ledge.

"Benson!" uttered the lieutenant commander, bitterly, "I congratulate
you. You've succeeded in grounding a United States Naval vessel!"

CHAPTER III

"YOU MAY AS WELL LEAVE THE BRIDGE!"

There was so much of overwhelming censure in the naval tone that Jack's
spirit was stung to the quick. "It's your mistake, sir," he retorted.
"You didn't follow the course I advised. You swung the ship around to
port, and--"

"Silence, now, if you please, while men are trying to get this vessel
out of a scrape a boy got her into," commanded Mr. Mayhem, sternly.

Jack flushed, then bit his tongue. In another moment a pallor had
succeeded the red in his face.

He was blamed for the disaster, and he was not really at fault.

Yet, under the rebuke he had just received, he did not feel it his place
to retort further for the present.

Mr. Mayhew and Mr. Trahern conferred in low tones for a moment or two.

"You may as well leave the bridge, young man," resumed Mr. Mayhew,
turning upon the submarine boy. "You are not likely to be of any use
here."

As Jack, burning inwardly with indignation, though managing to keep
outwardly calm, descended to the deck below, he caught sight of Hal
Hastings, hovering near in the rowboat. Hal signaled to learn whether
he should put in alongside to take off his chum, but Benson shook his
head.

Over on the "Farnum" the yard's owner and Eph Somers watched wonderingly.
They understood, well enough, that the new, trim-looking gunboat was in
trouble, but they did not how that Jack Benson was held at fault.

Down between decks the engines of the "Hudson" were toiling hard to run
the craft off out of the sand. Then the mach