t renewing.

With no wind or, wave to buffet, and the steady electric power running
the propeller shafts, the sensation was almost that of being aboard a
boat at rest.

After they had run along thus, for a few minutes, Eph went up to take
the wheel. As Bill Henderson came down below the young skipper noticed
a bright gleam in the seaman's eyes, though he thought little of it.

Henderson went forward into the engine room, stretching himself out on
the leather cushion of one of the seats.

"Ever run on a smoother boat than this below the surface, Henderson?"
inquired Captain Jack, looking in through the engine room door.

"All submarines are alike to me, sir," replied Henderson, rather shortly.

"I guess he's been too long at the business to have any enthusiasm left,
if he ever had any," muttered Benson to himself, and returned to the
group in the cabin.

When one is accustomed to the life, and there is confidence in the boat,
the main sensation when running along below the water's surface is one
of great monotony. All one can possibly see is the interior of the
boat and the persons of his comrades. The longer the run below water
is continued the more pronounced does the feeling of monotony become.
A well equipped submarine torpedo craft should be easily capable of
running twenty-four hours continuously below the water, but the long
continued monotony of such a length of time below would be almost
certain to drive the officers and crew to a high pitch of nervous
tension. Indeed, it is doubtful whether men of ordinary nervous
powers could stand such a strain.

Before fifteen minutes had passed Jacob Farnum began to tell funny
stories to make the time seem to pass more quickly. After ten minutes
he gave this up, for he realized his hearers were becoming bored.

"Whew!" sighed Pollard. "An hour below the surface is certainly as long
as twenty-four hours can be anywhere else!"

"I shall be glad when the hour is up," admitted Captain Jack, candidly.
Yet no one proposed cutting the time short by returning to the surface
sooner.

Hal Hastings climbed up into the conning tower to take the trick at
the wheel for the last twenty minutes. Indeed, occupation of any
sort helped to kill some of the time.

"I believe," laughed Jacob Farnum glancing about him, "we all feel
just about as though we had lost confidence in the 'Pollard's' ability
to rise when the time comes."

From the engine room came a burst of seama