"It's a home-made imitation of a Whitehead torpedo," Lieutenant Dick went
on, in explanation. "If it proves to be charged with explosives then the
mere having of it aboard this sloop will prove embarrassing to these two
prisoners to explain in court. If it isn't loaded, that will be almost as
bad, as such a torpedo can be rather easily loaded, and then set in
operation by clock-work machinery that will control the propeller."
"Young man, you seem to think you know a good deal about torpedoes,"
sneered Evarts.
"He ought to," Harry retorted quietly. "He's a West Point man and an army
officer. Therefore, he's a specialist in some kinds of explosives."
Evarts's face turned somewhat paler at this information of having an army
officer on hand as a witness.
"Do you call me a prisoner, too?" asked the man at the tiller uneasily.
"Something like it, I guess," nodded Dick.
"Say, but that's a pretty rank deal against an honest man," protested the
skipper hoarsely. "I hired this boat out to that man, the one you call
Evarts, but I didn't know what he was up to."
"You didn't know that torpedoes are used for wicked work either, eh?"
pressed Lieutenant Dick.
"I'll swear that I didn't know what it was that he brought on board," cried
the skipper.
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