“At last,” breathed Mr. Lockyer, as the foreman, with a formal touch of his cap, said:
“We’re ready when you are, sir.”
Lieutenant Parry tried to look unconcerned, but under his naval mask of indifference it could be seen that he was excited. As for the boys, their faces shone with anticipation. Old Tom Marlin went about with a broad grin on his face, clapping everybody on the shoulder and singing snatches of musty sea chanties.
As might have been expected, word had spread that there was something unusual going on at the yard. By the time all was in readiness quite a crowd had gathered. Several persons tried to get in at the gate, but they were ruthlessly informed that no one would be admitted. As the next best thing, they made for points of vantage along the beach outside the fence; for, by some species of wireless telegraphy, there was now a well-defined rumor that “‘Lockyer’s Dream’ was to take to the water that morning.”
“Wonder what we’re waiting for?” mused Ned, as ten o’clock struck and still Mr. Lockyer paced nervously up and down, without giving the signal to go aboard. Some workmen, hammers in hand, stood about ready to knock out the remaining props as soon as the word should be given, and send the grim diving torpedo boat sliding down the ways into the sea.
“Tide’ll turn before long, sir,” ventured the foreman, stepping up to Mr. Lockyer. The inventor gave a sigh and seemed to start out of a reverie.
“Very well, then,” he said. “I guess you may as well give the order to go ahead.”
But as he spoke, from outside the fence there came a sudden interruption to the hush of suspense that had settled over the occupants of the boatyard and the crowd outside.
The sharp “honk-honk” of an auto could be heard as it was urged through the curious crowd clustered outside the gates. A sudden change came over the inventor as he heard it. His gloom seemed to vanish like magic, and he made for the gate in great bounds. Reaching it, he flung it open himself, and a touring car, driven by a liveried chauffeur and containing two passengers, was driven into the yard. To the astonishment of the boys, one of the occupants of the car was a singularly beautiful young woman, and the other a stout, gray-whiskered man in a frock coat, white waistcoat and many other outward and accepted trappings of wealth.
The inventor—an odd contrast to the daintily gowned girl and the smartly tailored old man, in his greasy overalls which he had donned for the launching—was at the side of the car in an instant, aiding the young woman to alight. This done, he extended a hand to the old man, but the latter spurned it.