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?