"Remember that last dinner at Brighton?" he asked. "Fellows all wishing us good luck and cheering for us out on the campus? And good old 'prexie' declaring he expected to hear great things of his boys in the war? And all of them standing on the dormitory steps singing 'Fair Brighton' as we headed for the depot?" Ted remembered it all now only too plainly. Good old Brighton! Back there now under the oaks on the campus, or up in the dormitories, the boys were assembled again for the fall term. But this was not the time for backward glances. Grim work lay ahead of them. An hour later preparations were made to ascend and repair the damaged periscopes. In response to a query from the ship's commander, Sammy Smith said he could find no trace of any nearby or approaching vessels, although he had given the submarine telephone its best test. Gradually the _Dewey_ came to the surface as the ballast tanks were emptied. The hatch was thrown open and the _Dewey's_ commander raised himself to get a line on his surroundings. A dense fog had commenced to settle over the water, blotting out the stars and making a mist that hung over the sea like a great gray blanket. "Could not be better for our purposes had it been made to order," smiled McClure, as he gave orders for the repair crew to haul out the reserve periscopes and get busy. It was impossible to see more than a hundred yards from the sides of the _Dewey_ in any direction, and there appeared nothing but the rolling swell of the ocean. Nevertheless, overlooking no precaution, McClure gave orders for all lights to be dimmed amidships. In the darkness the crew went to work to substitute the new "eyes" of the ship for the damaged tubes, climbing out on the superstructure and working energetically. Just as the forward periscope was being lowered into position and secured, Commander McClure, supervising the work, was startled by a voice out of the fog, a stentorian challenge through a megaphone, that seemed almost on top of the submarine. "What ship is that?" came the call in German. For a moment it seemed that some one on the deck of the submarine must be playing a prank on his friends. But Bill Witt, who was doing lookout duty forward, declared that the cry was right at hand and apparently from the deck of a warship. Whispering to the repair crew to go quickly below McClure addressed himself to the unknown voice in his best Deutsch. "Dis iss das unterseeboot nein und zwanzig." For a moment there was a deathless silence. Then again the heavy voice to port: "You speck not the truth. U-boat 29 is in der Kiel Canal. You are English or Yankee. We call on you to surrender!" McClure's answer was to slam down the lid of the conning tower and ring for full speed in the engine room. Instantly he switched the rudder to starboard as the _Dewey's_ propeller blades began to turn. "Dive!" yelled the commander to his navigating officer, as he himself slanted the submerging rudders.