stock of paints and brushes. The submarine craft was so provided.

Jack caused to be brought from one of the lockers a can of prepared
white paint. This was thinned with oil and tested for the business in
hand. Then the best brush for the purpose was picked out. To this was
fitted a long handle. Two short sticks had to be spliced to make a
handle of sufficient length.

"How are you on lettering, Captain?" guffawed Mr. Farnum, while
preparations were thus being made.

"Nothing extra," Jack admitted. "But I guess I can at least make
legible letters."

All was in readiness long before need came. At about quarter past
eleven o'clock that night the "Pollard" noiselessly slipped from her
moorings. At that time none of the searchlights of the fleet at anchor
happened to be turned toward the submarine boat.

Ventilators were taken in, the manhole cover was closed, lights were
extinguished, and, the next instant, the "Pollard" began to sink.
Only one light burned aboard, and that came from a small lantern in
the engine room, where Hal Hastings crouched over the electric motor,
keeping strict track of the revolutions. While Jack Benson steered
strictly to compass, Hal counted the revolutions until the number had
been reeled off to carry the submarine the estimated distance under
water. Then Hal shut off speed, while Eph Somers passed word to the
young captain.

"Let her come up slowly, until I give the word," called down Captain
Jack. "Don't rush with the raising."

So compressed air was turned into the diving tanks, slowly expelling
the water therefrom. Very slowly the "Pollard" rose. Jack, watching
intently, knew the instant that the conning tower's top was above waves.

"Stop," he called down. Just ahead, about sixty feet, lay the seaward
side of the battleship "Luzon's" great gray hull. With his hand on the
electric speed control Captain Jack moved the submarine in until she lay
alongside the big battleship.

With the greatest stealth the manhole cover was raised by Hal and Eph.
Captain Jack, in the meantime, was rapidly shedding his clothing, until
he stood forth in a bathing suit only. Clad in this garment he slipped
out over the top of the conning tower. The platform deck was under
water, but Benson touched it with his feet.

"No hail from the deck above," he whispered to Hal. "Now, pass me
the paint and brush like lightning."

The brush was passed out, the paint can being rested on the edg