"Fishing villages, smacks and fishermen," answered Jack, gloomily.
"Fishermen are a daring, reckless lot of fellows. They'd take a craft
anywhere, in any kind of weather, for money enough. Fellows, I'm
afraid Millard has hired a smack and started up or down the coast."
"Then we've got a craft that can chase any smack on the Atlantic
coast," declared. Eph, stoutly.
"Of course; if we knew which craft to overhaul, and had the authority
to do it."
"Authority? Then what's the matter with the people at the Fort?"
demanded Eph.
"Their authority runs only on the land. Besides, by the time we got
through the red tape, and got started, any smart smack, in a good wind,
would be forty miles the other side of the horizon."
"Are you going to take this long drive, then?" asked Hal Hastings,
rather dubiously.
"Yes," declared Jack Benson, promptly. "Hal, old fellow, any trail is
best where it's freshest."
"I reckon you can git in, now, gents, if ye want," called the driver.
Seated in the cab the submarine boys set out to meet whatever might
be before them in Cobtown. Had they possessed the gift of prophecy--
However, none of us possess that!
CHAPTER IX
JACK PLAYS WITH A VOLCANO
After something more than an hour's drive the Jehu pulled his horses up,
got down from the box and opened one of the doors.
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