"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 peculiar¹ 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?"
 
"That's eight bells, too; so is twelve o'clock midnight. Eight bells is as high as they go on a ship. But I guess I'll go down and see if I can meet the captain. It will soon be ten o'clock, or four bells, and he must be hungry for breakfast. By the way, is that Mr. Berg still here?"
 
"No; he went away early this morning. He and Captain Weston seemed to strike up quite an acquaintance, the night clerk told me. They sat and smoked together until long after midnight, or eight bells," and the clerk smiled as he glanced down at the big diamond ring on his little finger.
 
"They did?" fairly exploded Tom, for he had visions of what the wily Mr. Berg might worm out of the simple captain.
 
"Yes. Why, isn't the captain a proper man to make friends with?" and the clerk looked at Tom curiously².
 
"Oh, yes, of course," was the hasty answer. "I guess I'll go and see if I can find him—the captain, I mean."
 
Tom hardly knew what to think. He wished his father, or Mr. Sharp, had thought to warn Captain Weston against talking of the wreck³. It might be too late now.
 
The young inventor hurried to the beach, which was not far from the hotel. He saw a solitary⁴ figure pacing up and down, and from the fact that the man stopped, every now and then, and gazed seaward through a large telescope, the lad concluded it was the captain for whom he was in search. He approached, his footsteps making no sound on the sand. The man was still gazing through the glass.
 
"Captain Weston?" spoke⁵ Tom.
 
Without a show of haste, though the voice must have startled him, the captain turned. Slowly he lowered the telescope, and then he replied softly:
 
"That's my name. Who are you, if I may ask?"
 
Tom was struck, more than by anything else, by the gentle voice of the seaman⁶. He had prepared himself, from the description of Mr. Sharp, to meet a gruff, bewhiskered individual, with a voice like a crosscut saw, and a rolling gait. Instead he saw a man of medium size, with a smooth face, merry blue eyes, and the softest voice and gentlest manner imaginable. Tom was very much disappointed. He had looked for a regular sea-dog, and he met a landsman, as he said afterward⁷. But it was not long before our hero changed his mind regarding Captain Weston.
 
"I'm Tom Swift," the owner of that name said, "and I have been sent to show you the way to where our ship is ready to launch." The young inventor refrained from mentioning submarine, as it was the wish of Mr Sharp to disclose this feature of the voyage to the sailor himself.
 
"Ha, I thought as much," resumed the captain quietly. "It's a fine day, if I may be permitted to say so," and he seemed to hesitate, as if there was some doubt whether or not he might make that observation.
 
"It certainly is," agreed the lad. Then, with a smile he added: "It is nearly four bells."
 
"Ha!" exclaimed the captain, also smiling............