Jack Benson looked up with a gasp.  His comrades were not less astounded.

“I am aware,” Mr. Sanders went on, “that we could not expect you to enlist as mere apprentices.  In your own particular field of submarine work you are amply fitted to hold officers’ commissions.  Yet, under the law, you cannot be granted commissions until you are twenty-one years of age.  None of you are quite eighteen.

“Therefore, it has occurred to me that you can be appointed, specially, with rank, command and pay, until you are twenty-one.  The President agrees with me in what I have to offer.  You, Mr. Benson, are offered a special appointment as lieutenant, junior grade, in the United States Navy.  You, Mr. Hastings, and you, Mr. Somers, are offered special appointments as ensigns.  You will all have the privileges of your ranks except the actual commissions.  Yet you will be actual officers, and entitled to full respect.  Moreover, the President promises that, when you are twenty-one years of age, you shall have regular commissions promptly.  In case the President is not re-elected to his office, he agrees to urge upon his successor in the White House the fulfilment of the promise.  So, if you accept the special appointments, now, you are absolutely certain of commissions as soon as you reach the age of twenty-one.  Perhaps it is only just to add that we are aware that all three of you have already been offered commissions in foreign navies, and that you have refused.  Both the President and myself appreciate your loyalty to your own Flag.  Now, what do you young gentlemen say to accepting special appointments to run until you are each twenty-one?”

“Mr. Secretary, it’s the brightest, the one great dream with us all,” Jack Benson replied, hoarsely.  “There is just one thing that could hold us back.  We really feel in honor bound to Mr. Farnum and Mr. Pollard to stand by their interests, for they have been our best friends.”

“What do you say to that, Mr. Farnum?” inquired the Secretary.

From behind a screen stepped Jacob Farnum, the Dunhaven shipbuilder.

“Why, see here, boys,” began Farnum, a broad smile on his face, “I received a long wire from Mr. Sanders yesterday.  Dave Pollard and I talked this thing over, and we decided that the Pollard boat is now an assured success.  You have put the boats where we can now build and run them without you.  You are more needed in the Navy.  Now, Dave and I both urge you to go where we know your hearts are—­into the Navy.  And you will go with all our best wishes.  The government needs you, now, to handle the boats that we build up at Dunhaven, and to train war-crews for those boats.  There is only one objection to your entering the Navy, boys.  You will have to pass upon our boats.  We know you will do that honestly and fearlessly; yet there are many who would sneer at having boats passed on for the government by young officers who hold stock in our concern.  Now, the amount of stock that each of you holds has been growing steadily with each new success that you have won for us, which if you enter the Navy you should not own.  So Dave and I offer you ten thousand dollars each for the shares that you hold.  It is a fair valuation.”