Soon the Pullman car carrying little Jim, my star witness, was out of sight, actually in the protecting arms of Uncle Sam, in the person of Father Woburn. After getting Scotty we made for home—I mean Canby's—as fast as the Sprite would carry us. Howard was very thoughtful but not depressed. He locked the store and put up a notice. We took Don along to cook, as we didn't want an unknown quantity in any form with us on a mission of such tremendous importance.

The next morning we anchored the Anti-Kaiser over the spot where the sunken U-boat lay. We brought the little Titian along with which we could run errands. Scotty's work consisted of standing watch and looking out for all kinds of danger, to use the deck guns, and take no chances.

It was slow work getting started, though the weather favored us. Howard was timid about the diving suit first, but finally grew confident, and the fourth day without an interruption we had all the drowned crew in the forward hold, and about everything else loose of any value in the captain's, officers' and crew's quarters, which, as I explained, were separated by a water-tight bulkhead from the cargo-hold forward.

It was a very unpleasant, gruesome job. There were twenty-four, instead of a crew of ten or twelve, of the sunken cargo sub, the name of which must remain covered until the Government sees fit to divulge it. All had to be moved from a boat in sixty feet of open roadstead water, searched and photographed individually and in group, in both cases showing as much of the faces as their condition would permit. Arduous, nauseating work and we were glad that it was over. I thought it would get on Howard's nerves, but they seemed of iron again.

Don had gone with the Titian to get mail and telegrams for me, and possibly hear from little Jim. We had eaten in the evening and were smoking forward. Scotty patrolled as lookout as though serving on a dreadnaught. Howard was quiet and thoughtful. I thought it was because he was tired and depressed after ransacking a wreck for dead Huns and having to fight swarms of sharks. I was congratulating myself on getting a lot of supplementary proof of much importance, especially the records of the ship and the loading and sailing orders of the captain.

"Wood," he began quietly. "How much is that vessel worth; that is, what would it cost built now?"

"I don't know, Howard; what would you guess her dead-weight tonnage?"

"The last time I was down I went all around her. She is over three hundred feet long and twenty-five or thirty-foot beam, amidships, tapering a little toward each end."

"Perhaps five thousand tons?"

"I would guess her that big anyway."

"A submarine that size cannot be built at the present time for less than a million dollars; two hundred dollars a dead-weight ton, I think, is the ruling price now."

"The Government wants submarines now, don't it?"

"The Government wants all kinds of ships, anything that can carry a ton of freight, Howard," I replied, looking at him sharply, but he did not answer for some minutes.

"Supposing by any chance she could be floated, where would we stand?"

"I am not even an amateur authority on Admiralty laws. Practically, you would have a first-class, 'made-in-Germany' submarine to sell the Government after you had removed the cargo. Howard, do you—do you think there is a chance?" I asked, intensely interested.

"I don't know. So far as I can see the hull, the outside shell is intact. It may be in the rivet joints aft. I do know that there was no water in her freight hold, the inrush nearly killing me when I finally got it open. With the water out of there and her submerging tanks, she might rise."

"You think you are right; the freight hold is the biggest part?"

"At least two-thirds and if her submerging tanks are pumped out she is bound to come up, the long, dangerous work of raising the cargo through the water is unnecessary and the sharks are pretty thick," he said, looking out toward the barren Tortugas, dotting the evening horizon southward. "And—and we would be rich, our fortunes would be made."

"Howard, why do you use the plural?"

"Because this time you have got to take it. This is to be a fifty-fifty deal. You are not going to get away from me again. You told me how to get turpentine and rosin from stumps and then walked away, leaving me to feel like an ingrate for not making you take half. No, sir, you will never have another chance to serve me that way. Half is yours this time. You've got to take it."

"Howard, I understand the spirit that moves you. I am glad your big, generous heart is working again normally, but there are two good reasons why you must count me out. First, by reason of my employment, it is forbidden, absolutely forbidden, and again, I have no interest either by discovery or recovery. Keep it—keep it for—little Jim. She did it all when she swam under water and hung a 'terror' to the Hun's bow."

"I can recall that I accepted such a plea twice and felt like a dog for doing so. I tell you, you are not going to get away from me this time. There will be plenty, but, if there wasn't——"

"Don't bother about that now, Howard," I interrupted, "plenty of time to count the chickens after they are hatched. I can see Don coming. Four days is a long time to be out of the world," I said, glad to change the subject. I was elated that there was a prospect of floating the U-boat that told such a vital story. What more glory did I need than to have been even indirectly responsible?