Supper was cooked on board and eaten by the crew. The officers and Mr. Lockyer ate ashore, the others taking their places afterward. Then followed a restless period of waiting till it grew dark and there was little chance of their being observed from the shore. Mr. Lockyer was not anxious, nor were the naval officers, to have it bruited aboard that they intended to put to sea that very night. Such news would have been certain to bring out a swarm of small craft to watch the start, and, accordingly, the workmen, when they went ashore, had been instructed to say that the trial trip would not take place for some time. A few trustworthy ones had been detained on board.
It was nine o’clock or later when Mr. Lockyer, turning to the lieutenant, said:
“If you are ready, Mr. Parry, everything is in trim for a start.”
“Very well, then,” was the response. “We’ll lose no time in getting under way.”
Some time before, the dynamo, which, like the engine, was driven by compressed air, had been started, and a soft radiance from electric lights, screened by ground glass shades, filled the little vessel. Not a light showed outside her dark hull, however, with the exception of her anchor light run up on the jack-staff aft.
“Strong and Taylor, your stations for to-night will be in the conning tower,” said the lieutenant. “Mr. Lockyer, your crew, under Bowler, will remain in the engine room. I don’t feel that we are quite familiar enough with the machinery yet to run the risk of an accident.”
The boys hastened to the conning tower, while the others remained below to watch the first revolutions of the engines. First, however, with a rattle and subdued purring sound, an electric winch brought the anchor home. The Lockyer instantly swung to the tide, floating free.
But it was only for an instant. As the word came from forward in old Tom’s voice:
“Anchor home, sir!” the inventor shoved over a lever affixed to the after bulkhead of the cabin space.
“Ready!” he said.