p forward. Then
she settled down to a more rapid, steady gait.

Just inside the conning tower Jacob Farnum stood again. In his right
hand he clutched a doubled-up handkerchief, with which he made frequent
dabs at his face.

The shipbuilder knew that the present speed, with its dangerous
overheating of the engines, spelled blank disaster if continued for long.

Hal Hastings, down below, standing like a white wraith beside his
engines, realized the same thing.

So, too, did Jack Benson, the young skipper, for whom, in this mad
moment, there was but one word in the language--"win!"

Eph didn't stop to realize it. He was worrying about straight steering,
and he couldn't worry about more than one thing at a time.

Lieutenant Danvers must have known what was patent to every other mind
but he neither said nor did anything. He was a Navy officer, trained
not to display emotion.

"Good!" came from Captain Jack's lips. Yet, in the intensity of his
strain it was a groan, rather than a note of exultation. "We're cutting
into the 'Thor's' water."

A few moments more, and Benson found his craft slantingly across the
Rhinds boat's course, well ahead.

"Now, we'll show you!" quavered Jack Benson, as he briefly shook his fist
back at the wicked rivals.

"If we don't blow the lid off this sea-turtle!" muttered young Somers,
to himself.

At the youthful captain's sharp order Eph swung the course around.

"Now, drive straight toward the derelict, Eph!" breathed the young
commander, his eyes glittering. "I leave the deck in your hands for a
minute. You're broadside on, now. Keep driving, steady, as you are!"

As Farnum saw young Benson dashing his way the shipbuilder understood
and darted down the stairs.

After him plunged Jack Benson. Below, both became cooler, for the task
in hand must not be bungled. On one of the trucks they dragged a torpedo
forward, fitting it in the tube.

As he closed the after port behind the torpedo, Jack bent over to place
Jacob Farnum's hand on the firing lever.

"Stand there, sir, till you've done it!" quavered Captain Jack.

"Will you signal the order?"

"No, sir! You'll get it by voice."

As Benson wheeled, dashing away, he had an instant's glimpse, sideways,
of Hal Hastings's face. Great as Jack's haste was, that look at his
chum's face haunted him.

There was no time for sentiment, now, though. It was literally do or
die!

The "Thor" was now three hundred yards aste