Those who were going made a rush for the shed.  The band leader, catching the enthusiasm, led his musicians, with a crash, into a triumphal march.  Eph Somers slid, unobtrusively, into the shed.  David Pollard turned to look at him keenly.

“I want to be on hand to help just a bit, if I can,” murmured Eph, pleadingly, “and to wish the boat good luck as she strikes the water.  My father used to work in this yard, and I worked here last summer.”

“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 lustily 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!”