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"He's all right," nodded Mr. Farnum, so Eph got inside the shed.
The ladder rested against the hull; this was to be the last time that it would be used. David Pollard ascended, first, to the submarine's platform deck Farnum followed Then Grant Andrews went up. Last of all came Jack Benson and Hal Hastings. These were all who were scheduled to slide down the slippery ways with the "Pollard." But Eph was there, close at hand, consumed by an unquenchable desire to go, too. Nor was he wholly convinced that he wouldn't.
Outside, at one side of the shed, stood Lieutenant Jackson and the invited guests. On the other side were the members of the band.
On the platform deck, near the conning tower, were an outside steering wheel and the engine controls. Back of all were the funnels of the ventilators.
"Are you going to take the wheel, sir?" whispered Grant Andrews, to the inventor.
"I--I'm afraid I'm too nervous to," replied David Pollard, in an undertone. "You'd better take the wheel, Andrews."
So the foreman stationed himself there, for the craft might need guidance during the headway that the launching would give her.
Pollard turned to the yard's owner, to whisper imploringly:
"Better give the word and start things, Farnum. The suspense will floor me if it lasts much longer."
So Farnum gave tho first signal, and the workmen below began their last duties. In a twinkling it was known that something was wrong with one of the ways. Grant Andrews moved quickly away from the wheel to look below and give an order.
Jack Benson moved up to the wheel, that there might be someone there in case the "Pollard" made an unexpected leap into the water. In the confusion, just as one of the workmen below was about to remove the ladder, Eph Somers swiftly pushed it back against the hull, ascending almost on the run to the platform deck, where he stood pointing out to Andrews the cause of the trouble below. As he did so, Eph slyly but authoritatively signaled to the men to remove the ladder, which was done. Eph Somers had won his wish. He was aboard--safe unless someone discovered him at the last second and threw him over.
Now, with a fearful clattering, the last supports of the substructure were knocked away by l.u.s.tily wielded sledge-hammers.
The leader of the band, accustomed to launchings, held his baton aloft.
At the downward stroke of that implement the band would crash out into "See, the Conquering Hero Comes!"
In the midst of the clatter another gang of workmen, at a silent signal, began to push against the hull on either side.
Hats off, the men among the guests began to cheer, the women to wave handkerchiefs.
Farnum was the coolest of all, now. As the "Pollard" _might_ sink to the bottom of the harbor, no woman was aboard to do the christening.
Instead, the yard owner clutched the bottle, ready to smash it over the forward rail of the platform deck.
A creak, a yell, and the "Pollard" started. How the cheering redoubled and made the shed's rafters shake. Lieutenant Jackson, of the Navy, tried to look unconcerned, but he couldn't, wholly. A launching of any kind of important craft is a mighty exciting thing.
Jack's hands took firm clutch on the steering wheel. He was throbbing from head to foot.
Another creak! The "Pollard" began to move in good earnest. All on the platform deck felt the exhilarating thrill of motion.
Down came the baton, the band crashed out, its music almost drowned by the frantic cheers of the beholders. Down off the ways shot the submarine torpedo boat. Oh, the glory of it!
There was a gigantic splash. Everyone on the platform deck was, drenched, yet holding on and happy. For many rods out over the waters, Jack steering straight and true, the boat dashed, then slowly stopped.
The "Pollard" was launched--for what adventures, what fate?
CHAPTER X
UNDER WATER, WHERE MEN'S NERVES ARE TRIED
After that first stop, after that first feeling of exhilaration was over, the anxious thought of all on the platform deck was:
"Is there any fault in her construction? Is she going to sink?"
Not that any of these six human beings would have been in much danger, for all were where they could free themselves and swim.
It was the defeat of months of hopes that would have been terrible.
A few moments of tension, then David Pollard's gaze lighted on Eph Somers, unconcernedly smiling.
"Hullo!" muttered the inventor. "How do you happen on board?"
"Me?" grinned Eph. "Why, you see, I'm the mascot."
But Jack Benson, fearful that, under the strain, something unpleasant might be said to his newly-found friend, asked, quietly:
"Going to drop the anchor?"
Grant Andrews, Hal and Eph quickly attended to this.
The flag at the short pole had become wrapped around its short staff.
Jacob Farnum noted this just in time and hastily shook it out, for the band had suddenly begun to play "_The Star Spangled Banner_," and on sh.o.r.e the crowd was hushed, hats off and at attention. On board the submarine hats were quickly doffed, all turning with reverent gaze toward the Flag!
For a long time the crowd on sh.o.r.e remained, staring with fascinated gaze at the craft from which wonders were expected. Presently a small boat put off from sh.o.r.e. Mr. Farnum and Mr. Pollard were taken off and went ash.o.r.e to talk over matters with Lieutenant Jackson.
The "Pollard" now sat jauntily on the water. Only the upper two feet of her oddly-shaped hull were out of water, neither the bow nor stern showing. In rough weather the platform deck would be a wet place, indeed; but now, with little wind, and the water only slightly rippling, the deck was drying rapidly under the glare of the hot summer sun.
"I guess we might as well go below and get on dry clothing," hinted Grant Andrews.
"Is there any such thing aboard?" queried Jack, in surprise.
"Yes, thanks to Mr. Farnum's thoughtfulness. Come on; I'll show you."
So the four piled below, and, in one of the state-rooms aft, Andrews pointed to a goodly store of clothing, much more than would be needed for the present, and of different sizes, even to shoes. There were also rough bath towels with which to rub down dry.
"I wonder do I come in on these?" murmured Eph, doubtfully.
"Well, since nothing has been said to the contrary," laughed Andrews, quietly, "I think I'd be brave enough to try it. You're surely as wet as any of us."
The four were quickly in undershirts and linen. But the outer suits made the boys wonder a bit. These suits were dark blue uniforms, the coats braided, and the front b.u.t.tons hidden by another band of braid.
The caps were of visored naval pattern.
"Say," asked Eph, looking about him, "I'm only a common sailor, at most.
Ain't there any common sailor togs lying about?"
"I don't know where," smiled Andrews. "I judge, from the togs, that we're all to be captains."