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1913.] the blunder, and had been charged with four torpedoes. The cap was turned so as to open two of the torpedo-tubes, When all was ready, the captain pulled a cord that admitted compressed air into the tubes just behind the torpedoes, and started them on their way. At the same time, a lever in the tube sprang a trip on each torpedo that set the propeller motor running. The instant the torpedoes left us, our bow, relieved of their weight, which amounted to nearly two tons, sprang up, but was brought down very cleverly by the steersman, who manipulated the horizontal rudders. The other two torpedoes were then uncovered by turning the cap, and they were fired one at a time at the enemy. Then, having shot our bolts, we turned about, and bear a retreat to port.

long after our interesting trip in the submarine, Will and I made a wonderful discovery. We found in process of construction, right at New York’s front door, a, an enormous excavation one third the size of the , but, because the canal was submerged under the waters of New York Bay, it came in for very little attention on the part of the public.

We met one of the engineers who was in charge of that work at that memorable luncheon with Mr. Price, and it was at his invitation that we went down to the dredges one morning on the tug that carried their mail and supplies.

We had proceeded well past the Narrows, when the captain of the tugboat painted ahead. “There is one of the dredges,” he said.

“You don't mean that steamship?” asked Will,

“Why, yes; don't you know what a dredge looks like?”

“I have seen lots of dredges,” I said, “but none of them looks like that,”

“Oh, you 're thinking of !” said the captain. “We could n't possibly use bucket dredges here. Every time a little storm came up, we would have to tow the dredge in, or else it would pound itself to pieces against the mud-. These are. There 's the same difference as between taking a glass of soda-water in spoonfuls and drawing it up with a straw.”

“But what do they do with the mud? Don’t they have to have scows alongside?”

“In the first place, it is n’t mud, at least not much of it. It is mostly sand and gravel, What a suction dredge devours goes into bins in her own hold, then it is taken out to sea and dumped. Do you see how low she is in the water? I guess they have just been waiting for us before putting out to sea to dump their load. I see the other dredge is over at Rockaway Inlet. I ’ll put you aboard this dredge, and by the time I get back from Rockaway, your boat will have dumped its load and returned.”

In a few minutes, we had come alongside the dredge and climbed over the rail to her deck. The tug captain called out to a Mr. Porter, who was the engineer on board, and consigned us to his care.

The dinner-bell rang as we came aboard, but we had had dinner aboard the tug, so, while Mr. Porter was gone, we walked about the deck, trying to understand this curious vessel. Just forward of the pilot-house, there was an enormous bin filled with sand. Some water was swishing back and forth aver it as we rolled gently in the ocean swell. Aft there was another bin of the same size, The bins appeared to be divided into compartments by means of partition walls, but we found later, when the bins were emptied, that this was merely the framing at the top. Running lengthwise across each bin were two shafts connected by worm-gearing to a set of screw-shafts that ran vertically. There was also a large hand-wheel on each of the vertical screw-shafts.

Presently, a couple of men came along, One had a stick with which he measured the average height of the sand in each compartment, while the other man jotted down the figures in a notebook, so as to determine the amount of sand in the bins. hen, much to our astonishment, the first man reached down into the water, pulled out a good-sized fish, and laid it flapping on the deck.

“Good to eat?” we asked him.

“Pretty good,” he said; “it ’s a ling, We get lots of them, In fact, we get all the fish we care to eat. We get plenty of lobsters, too,”

We noticed a number of large starfish clinging to the walls of the bin, and as the man moved off I reached over to get one as a souvenir.

“Oh, look there!” exclaimed Will suddenly, pointing to an object sticking out of the sand. “Does n't that look like a revolver?”

“It surely does,” I replied; “I wonder if the sand is firm enough to hold us.”

I tested it with my foot, and found it was as solid as a floor, so we both jumped over the side of the bin to pick up the curious object. A revolver it really was, an ugly-looking weapon, too, and pretty badly rusted.

“Now, where in the world do you suppose that came from?” asked Will, as he sat down on the edge of the bin to examine it.