I must admit that I felt somewhat lost when, later in the morning, I took my place alone on the platform that had been built for the favored few of the launching party at the bow of the huge Usona, without Craig.  Already, however, he had communicated at least a part of his plan to Marlowe, and the captain and Marjorie were among the first to arrive.  Marjorie never looked prettier in her life than she did now, on the day when she was to christen the great liner, nor, I imagine, had the captain ever been more proud of her.

They had scarcely greeted me when we heard a shout from the men down at the end of the slip that commanded a freer view of the river.  We craned our necks and in a moment saw what it was.  They had sighted the air-boat coming down the river.

I turned the glass on the mechanical bird as it soared closer.  Already Kennedy had made us on the platform and had begun to signal as a test.  At least a part of the suspense was over for me when I discovered that I could read what he sent.

So fixed had my attention been that I had not noticed that slowly the members of the elect launching party had arrived, while other thousands of the less favored crowded into the spaces set apart for them.  On the stand now with us were Fitzhugh and Miss Hillman, while, between glances at Kennedy, I noticed little Rae Melzer over at the right, and Doctor Gavira, quite in his element, circulating about from one group to another.

Every one seemed to feel that thrill that comes with a launching, the appreciation that there is a maximum of risk in a minimum of time.

Down the slip the men were driving home the last of the huge oak wedges which lifted the great Usona from the blocks and transferred her weight to the launching ways as a new support.  All along the stationary, or ground, ways and those which were to glide into the water with the cradle and the ship, trusted men were making the final examination to be as sure as human care can be that all was well.

As the clock neared noon, which was high water, approximately, all the preparatory work was done.  Only the sole pieces before us held the ship in place.  It was as though all bridges had been burned.

High overhead now floated the hydro-aeroplane, on which I kept my eye fixed almost hypnotically.  There was still no signal from Kennedy, however.  What was it he was after?  Did he expect to see the fast express cruiser, lurking like a corsair about the islands of the river?  If so, he gave no sign.

Men were quitting now the work of giving the last touches to the preparations.  Some were placing immense jack-screws which were to give an initial impulse if it were needed to start the ship down the ways.  Others were smearing the last heavy dabs of tallow, lard oil, and soft soap on the ways, and graphite where the ways stretched two hundred feet or so out into the water, for the ship was to travel some hundreds of feet on the land and in the water, and perhaps an equal distance out beyond the end of the ways.