_The following story of how the little Mary Rose, a British destroyer, went down with colors flying, when, in October, 1917, she fought against overwhelming enemy forces, has been compiled from official sources:_ The Mary Rose left a Norwegian port in charge of a westbound convoy of merchant ships in the afternoon of Oct. 16, 1917. At dawn on the 17th flashes of gunfire were sighted astern. The Captain of the Mary Rose, Lieut. Commander Charles Fox, who was on the bridge at the time, remarked that he supposed it was a submarine shelling the convoy, and promptly turned his ship to investigate. All hands were called to action stations. The Mary Rose had increased to full speed, and in a short time three light cruisers were sighted coming toward them at high speed out of the morning mist. The Mary Rose promptly challenged, and, receiving no reply, opened fire with every gun that would bear at a range of about four miles. The German light cruisers appeared to be nonplused by this determined single-handed onslaught, as they did not return the fire until the range had closed to three miles. They then opened fire, and the Mary Rose held gallantly on through a barrage of bursting shell until only a mile separated her from the enemy. Up to this point the German marksmanship was poor, but as the British destroyer turned to bring her torpedo tubes to bear a salvo struck her, bursting in the engine room and leaving her disabled, a log on the water. All guns, with the exception of the after one, were out of action and their crews killed or wounded, but the after gun continued in action, under the direction of Sub-Lieutenant Marsh, R. N. V. R., as long as it would bear. The Captain came down from the wrecked bridge and passed aft, encouraging and cheering his defeated men. He stopped beside the wrecked remains of the midship gun and shouted to the survivors of its crew: "God bless my heart, lads, get her going again; we're not done yet!" The enemy was now pouring a concentrated fire into the motionless vessel. One of the boilers, struck by a shell, exploded, and through the inferno of escaping steam, smoke, and the vapor of bursting shell came that familiar, cheery voice: "We're not done yet."