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Excerpt from The Cruise of the Dry Dock
By this time the cheers had become general and the conversation broke off. An enormous ¿oating dry dock, towed by an ocean - going tug, slowly drew away from the ship yards on the south bank of the Thames, just below London. The men on the immense metal structure, haul ing in ropes, looked like spiders with gossamers. A hundred foot bridge which could be lifted for the entrance of ocean liners, spanned the open stern of the dock and braced her high side walls. These walls rose fifty or sixty feet, were some forty feet thick and housed the machinery which pumped out the pontoons and raised the two bridges, one at each end. The tug, the Vulcan, which stood some two hundred yards down stream, puffing monotonously at the end of a cable, did seem utterly inadequate to tow such a mass of metal. Nevertheless, to the admira tion of the crowd, the speed of the convoy slowly increased.
Tug and dock were well under way when the onlooking line was suddenly disrupted by a well dressed youth who came bundling a large suit case through the press and did not pause until on the edge of the green moulded wharf.
Boat! He hailed in sharp Yankee accent, gesticulating at a public dory. Here, put me aboard that dry dock, will you? Hustle! The thing's gathering way!
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