The night was calm and very still. The hatch covers were thrown back, the tired men thrust their heads into the cool, sweet air, so refreshing after the closeness of their badly ventilated vessel, and wetted their fevered, exhausted bodies with the stimulating water of the bay. The artillery officer took advantage of the opportunity to make a careful reexamination of the torpedo, and Lacy was greatly relieved when he reported that he had everything in good working order, so far as he was able to judge. The young commander of the expedition was the more anxious for success because of the previous failures of similar endeavors. After a ten-minute rest he gave the order to get under way. "Men," he said coolly, "you know the history of this boat. There's a chance, ay, more than a chance, that none of us will ever come back from this expedition. You knew all that when you volunteered. If we do get out alive, our country will reward us. If we do not, she will not forget us. Shake hands, now. Good-by, and God bless you. Put every pound of muscle you have into that crank when we get within one hundred yards of the frigate, and jump the boat into her. I'll give the signal. I want to strike her hard." "Ay, ay, sir," replied the seamen as cheerfully as if there was only a frolic before them. "We'll do our best. Good-by, and God bless you, sir. We're proud to serve under you whatever comes." "Thank you. All ready with the torpedo, Captain?" "Yes, Major Lacy." "Good! Down everybody, now! Clap to the hatch covers and start the cranks. Easy at first, and when I give the word--hard!" He seized the spokes of the steering wheel in his steady hands as he spoke. Back of him, to relieve him in case of accident, stood Captain Carlson, the artillery officer. The heavy planks were drawn over the open hatch, locked, and bolted. Silently the men manned the cranks. The little engine of destruction gathered way. It was pitch dark, and very close and hot. There was no sound in the shell save the slight creaking of the cranks and the deep breathing of the crew as they toiled over them. Forward by the wheel there was a glass hood, which permitted the men who steered to direct the course of the boat. As the sinister sea demon stole through the waters, Lacy caught a sudden glimpse at last of the spars of a heavy ship at anchor before him. The night had cleared somewhat, and although there was no moon, the stars gave sufficient light for him to see the black tracery of masts and yards lifting themselves above the horizon. How still the looming ship lay. There was scarcely sea enough to tremble the top-hamper of the unsuspecting man-of-war. A faint film of smoke falling lazily from her funnel in the quiet air, with her riding and side-lights, were the only signs of life about her. No more peaceful-looking object floated over the ocean apparently.