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Page 29
As father and son, with their guest, were going to the
machine shop, Mr. Sharp met them. He had a letter in his
hand.
"Good news!" the balloonist cried. "Captain Weston will be
with us to-morrow. He will arrive at the Beach Hotel in
Atlantis, and wants one of us to meet him there. He has
considerable information about the wreck."
"The Beach Hotel," murmured Tom. "That is where Mr. Berg
is stopping. I hope he doesn't worm any of our secret from
Captain Weston," and it was with a feeling of uneasiness
that the young inventor continued after his father and Mr.
Damon to where the submarine was.
Chapter Nine
Captain Weston's Advent
"Bless my water ballast, but that certainly is a fine boat!"
cried Mr. Damon, when he had been shown over the new craft.
"I think I shall feel even safer in that than in the Red Cloud."
"Oh, don't go back on the airship!" exclaimed Mr Sharp. "I
was counting on taking you on another trip."
"Well, maybe after we get back from under the ocean,"
agreed Mr. Damon. "I particularly like the cabin
arrangements of the Advance. I think I shall enjoy myself."
He would be hard to please who could not take pleasure
from a trip in the submarine. The cabin was particularly
fine, and the sleeping arrangements were good.
More supplies could be carried than was possible on the
airship, and there was more room in which to cook and serve
food. Mr. Damon was fond of good living, and the kitchen
pleased him as much as anything else.
Early the next morning Tom set out for Atlantis, to meet
Captain Weston at the hotel. The young inventor inquired of
the clerk whether the seafaring man had arrived, and was
told that he had come the previous evening.
"Is he in his room?" asked Tom.
"No," answered the clerk with a peculiar grin. "He's an
odd character. Wouldn't go to bed last night until we had
every window in his room open, though it was blowing quite
hard, and likely to storm. The captain said he was used to
plenty of fresh air. Well, I guess he got it, all right."
"Where is he now?" asked the youth, wondering what sort of
an individual he was to meet.
"Oh, he was up before sunrise, so some of the scrubwomen
told me. They met him coming from his room, and he went
right down to the beach with a big telescope he always
carries with him. He hasn't come back yet. Probably he's
down on the sand."
"Hasn't he had breakfast?"
"No. He left word he didn't want to eat until about four
bells, whatever time that is."
"It's ten o'clock," replied Tom, who had been studying up
on sea terms lately. "Eight bells is eight o'clock in the
morning, or four in the afternoon or eight at night,
according to the time of day. Then there's one bell for
every half hour, so four bells this morning would be ten
o'clock in this watch, I suppose."
"Oh, that's the way it goes, eh?" asked the clerk. "I
never could get it through my head. What is twelve o'clock
noon?"
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