There was a commotion in the excited group as various members of the crew sought to take exception to their captain's voluntary omission of his own name. But the young lieutenant held up his hand for silence. "I am the captain of this ship and take orders, from no man," he announced bravely. "One man has to stay behind and I reserve that honor for myself." He paused for an instant and then added: "The first man will go out at three o'clock to-morrow morning. We shall have to get busy at that time before we have exhausted the compressed air that yet remains in our tanks. It will require considerable pound pressure for this job and we might as well be at it while there is yet time. As near as I can estimate we are not more than a mile off shore. Once afloat, I would advise each of you to swim for land and take your chances there. That's all." And with a wave of his hand he dismissed his men. The hours dragged on into the afternoon and evening. Some of the men crouched alone in their quarters, facing in solitude the impending ordeal; others conversed together in low tones debating how they would choose their method of escape. Bill Witt, true to his inherent optimism, toted out his old banjo. "Old Black Joe," he sang, and all the old familiar home songs. And then, while some of the braver spirits were singing he swung into "The Star Spangled Banner." Instantly every man was on his feet and standing at attention. Thus they stood until Bill picked his way through to "the home of the brave." Yes, the "home of the brave!" Here were sons of Uncle Sam, wrecked on the bottom of the sea, exemplifying that bravery that has characterized the boys of our army and navy in every stage of our history. Not a man in the _Dewey_ but was inspired by the grand old song and steeled to die bravely for Old Glory if necessary and uphold the fair traditions of the U.S. Navy. From that moment the mental atmosphere within the _Dewey_ was cleared. Inspired by the national anthem, every man resolved that now, do or die, he would perform his part bravely. "Where do we go from here, boys?" Bill started to play, and immediately a dozen lusty voices joined in the rag-time refrain. So the merriment continued over evening mess and into the evening. Ted had strolled into the torpedo room absent-mindedly and was leaning with one arm over one of the torpedoes in the starboard rack when suddenly there flashed through his mind a wild inspiration. Instantly he straightened and gazed about him. One at a time he counted the torpedoes in the hold of the _Dewey_. There were three loaded in the tubes and two more in the port and starboard racks. "I'll do it, I'll do it," he shouted aloud and raced aft immediately to the control chamber where his commander sat writing at an improvised table. Lieutenant McClure turned as Ted stopped and came to a salute.