The chlorine gas in the forward, now the lower part of the ship, had become almost too much to work in. Fortunately, we had a few gas-masks left over from our war allowance which were used by those whose duties kept them working forward. There were not enough to go around, however, as part of our allowance was kept in the flooded torpedo-room. The futuristic effect of men in gas-masks, working their way up and down in a ship almost standing on its head, with the occasional flicker of a flashlight, was a sight to haunt one in one’s dreams. The uncertainty of our fate made the suspense almost unbearable, and the chlorine gas wouldn’t let us think of anything but a terrible end. At six the next morning—to think that meant glorious sunshine to those sailing tranquilly above us!—we had finally, by superhuman effort, got all after tanks dry, and nearly all movable weights forward. And our angle was only seventy-three degrees! If we moved all hands forward and then could not get our angle, we were probably doomed, for it would take days to break down the heavy engine parts and move them, all in darkness; time would defeat us, as it has in other cases we all remembered but too well. So we played our last card. Forty-two men dragged themselves forward—that meant down into the chlorine gas—one man remaining aft in case of emergency, while the Captain watched the angle indicator with one of the two last remaining and fast-dimming flashlights. We had done it! We had made her do what we wanted her to do, and with a little to spare, for she settled just a hair above seventy-eight degrees. At last we could commence cutting the hole in the hull. This hole, to be above water, had to be way aft where the ship tapers to almost nothing, and as all such corners are utilized for special fixtures, storage, etc., the working space was very cramped. Then too, this now being the top part of the ship, the air was so foul that a man could only work ten or fifteen minutes before he would become exhausted and have to be relieved. Twenty-five hours after our crash dive, the cold chisel—for we had to use hand tools—finally pierced the hull, and brought daylight! Four hours more of body-racking work before we had a hole big enough to stick the head through. No ships in sight! * * * * *