tomed 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 sh