Part 72 (2/2)

Down in the tanks inside the hull were a few luckless anonymities with search-lights, put there to watch for leaks from loose rivet-heads.

They would be in the dark and see nothing of the festival. Always there has to be some one in the dark at such a time.

The men who would saw the holding-blocks stood ready, as solemn as clergymen. The cross-saws were at hand for their sacred office. The sawyers and the other workmen were overdoing their unconcern. Mamise caught sight of Sutton, lounging in violent indifference, but giving himself away by the frenzy of his jaws worrying his quid and spurting tobacco juice in all directions.

There was reason, too, for uneasiness. Sometimes a s.h.i.+p would not start when the blocks were sawed through. There would be a long delay while hydraulic jacks were sought and put to work to force her forward. Such a delay had a superst.i.tious meaning. n.o.body liked a s.h.i.+p that was afraid of her element. They wanted an eagerness in her get-away. Or suppose she shot out too impetuously and listed on the ways, ripping the scaffolding to pieces like a whale thras.h.i.+ng a raft apart. Suppose she careened and stuck or rolled over in the mud. Such things had happened and might happen again. The _Mamise_ had suffered so many mishaps that the other s.h.i.+p crews called her a hoodoo.

At last the hour drew close. Davidge was a fanatic on schedules. He did not want his s.h.i.+p to be late to her engagement.

”She's named after me, poor thing,” said Mamise. ”She's bound to be late.”

”She'll be on time for once,” Davidge growled.

In the older days with the old-fas.h.i.+oned s.h.i.+ps the boats had gone to the sea like brides with trousseaux complete. The launching-guests had made the journey with her; a dinner had been served aboard, and when the festivities were ended the waiting tugs had taken the new s.h.i.+p to the old sea for the honeymoon.

But nowadays only hulls were launched, as a rule. The mere husk was then brought to the equipping-dock to receive her engines and all her equipment.

The _Mamise_ was farther advanced, but she would have to tie up for sixty days at least. The carpenters had her furniture all ready and waiting, but she could not put forth under her own steam for two months more.

The more reason for impatience at any further delay. Davidge went along the launching-platform rails, like a captain on the bridge, eager to move out of the slip.

”Make ready!” he commanded. ”Stand by! Where's the bottle? Good Lord!

Where's the bottle?”

That precious quart of champagne was missing now. The bottle had been prepared by an eminent jeweler with silver decoration and a silken net. The neck would be a cherished souvenir thereafter, made into a vase to hold flowers.

The bottle was found, a cable was lowered from aloft and the bottle fastened to it.

Davidge explained to Mamise for the tenth time just what she was to do. He gave the signal to the sawyers. The snarl of the teeth in the holding-blocks was lost in the noise of the band. The great whistle on the fabricating-plant split the air. The moving-picture camera-men cranked their machines. The last inches of the timbers that held the s.h.i.+p ash.o.r.e were gnawed through. The sawyers said they could feel the s.h.i.+p straining. She wanted to get to her sea. They loved her for it.

Suddenly she was ”sawed off.” She was moving. The rigid mountain was an avalanche of steel departing down a wooden hill.

Mamise stared, gasped, paralyzed with launch-fright. Davidge nudged her. She hurled the bottle at the vanis.h.i.+ng keel. It broke with a loud report. The wine splashed everywhichway. Some of it spattered Mamise's new gown.

Her muscles went to work in womanly fas.h.i.+on to brush off the stain.

When she looked up, ashamed of her homely misbehavior, she cried:

”O Lord! I forgot to say, 'I christen thee _Mamise_.'”

”Say it now,” said Davidge.

She shouted the words down the channel opening like an abyss as the vast hulk diminished toward the river. Far below she could see the water leap back from the shock of the new-comer. Great, circling ripples retreated outward. Waves fought and threw up bouquets of spume.

The chute smoked with the heat of the s.h.i.+p's pa.s.sage and a white cloud of steam flew up and followed her into the river.

She was launched, beautifully, perfectly. She sailed level. She was water-borne.

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