She met Sutton, the prima donna riveter. He was always clattering away like a hungry woodpecker, but he always had time to stop and discuss his art with her.
Once or twice he let her try the riveter––the “gun,” he called it; but her thumb was not strong enough to hold the trigger against that hundred-and-fifty-pound pressure per square inch.
One day Marie Louise came on Jake Nuddle and Sutton in a wrangle. She caught enough of the parley to know that Jake was sneering at Sutton’s waste of energy and enthusiasm, his long hours and low pay. Sutton earned a very substantial income, but all pay was low pay to Jake, who was spreading the gospel of sabotage through the shipyard.
Meanwhile the good ship Clara, weaned from the dock, floated in the basin and received her equipment. And at last the day came when she was ready for her trial trip.
That morning the smoke rolled from her funnels in a twisted skein. What had once been ore in many a mine, and trees in many a forest, had become an individual, as what has been vegetables and fruits and the flesh of animals becomes at last a child with a soul, a name, a fate.
It was impossible to think now that the Clara was merely an iron box with an engine to push it about. Clara was somebody, a personality, a lovable, whimsical, powerful creature. She was “she” to everybody. And at last one morning she kicked up her heels and took a long white bone in her teeth and went her ways.
The next day Clara came back. There was something 195 about her manner of sweeping into the bay, about the proud look of her as she came to a halt, that convinced all the watchers in the shipyard of her success.
When they learned that she had exceeded all her contract stipulations there was a tumult of rejoicing; for her success was the success of every man and lad in the company’s employ––at least so thought all who had any instinct of team-play and collective pride. A few soreheads were glum, or sneered at the enthusiasm of the others. It was strange that Jake Nuddle was associated with all of these groups.
Clara was not permitted to linger and rest on her laurels. She had work to do. Every ship in the world was working overtime except the German Kiel Canal boats. Clara was gone from the view the next morning. Mamise missed her as she looked from the office window. She mentioned this to Davidge, for fear he might not know. Somebody might have stolen her. He explained:
“She’s going down to Norfolk to take on a cargo of food for England––wheat for the Allies. I’m glad she’s going to take breadstuffs to people. My mother used to be always going about to hungry folks with a basket of food on her arm.”