In all history the unquenchable spirit of man has rarely triumphed so completely over shattered nerves and body. As his strength ebbed, Commander Loftus Jones seems to have been overtaken by fear lest the ship should fall into the hands of the enemy, and seeing the German destroyers approaching, he gave orders for the _Shark_ to be sunk. A moment later, however, the gun fired another round; and apparently realising that the ship was still capable of further resistance, he countermanded the order, adding “Fight the ship!” The gaff on the mainmast at which the Ensign was flown had been broken by a shot, and the flag hung limp against the mast. The mind of the captain must have turned at the last to that emblem of all he was dying for so gallantly, for presently he asked faintly what had happened to the flag. One of the men tending him replied that it had been shot away, and in great distress he ordered another to be hoisted immediately. Able Seaman Hope accordingly left the gun, and climbing up, detached the ensign and handed it down to Midshipman Smith, who bent it on to a fresh pair of halyards and hoisted it at the yard-arm. The captain, seeing it once more flying clear, said, “That’s good,” and appeared content. The end was now drawing very near. The bows of the _Shark_ had sunk until the foremost funnel was awash, and the waves were lapping over the waterlogged hull. Seeing that two German destroyers had approached to within a few hundred yards with the evident intention of administering the _coup de grâce_, Commander Loftus Jones gave his last order to the ship’s company, “Save yourselves!” He was helped into the water by the coxswain and a number of others who had tended him devotedly after he received his mortal wound, and floated clear of the ship with the support of a life-belt. The remainder of the crew, to the number of about a score, swam towards the rafts and pieces of floating wreckage. Two torpedoes struck the _Shark_ amidships almost simultaneously. With a muffled explosion she lurched violently to starboard, flinging overboard the dead and wounded who still remained on deck. Her stern rose until it was almost perpendicular and she sank with colours flying, about an hour and a half after firing her first shot. Stoker Petty Officer Filleul and Able Seaman Smith succeeded in placing the captain on the raft of barrels, where they propped him in a sitting position with the aid of life-belts and buoys. While this was being done the captain attempted to smile, and shook his head, saying, “It’s no good, lads.” Stoker Petty Officer Filleul remained by the captain, and Able Seaman Smith swam to one of the other rafts on which the coxswain, Petty Officer Griffin, Chief Stoker Newcombe, Yeoman of Signals Banham, Stoker Swan, and Able Seamen Hope and Howell had succeeded in crawling. The three rafts drifted within sight of each other through the long northern summer twilight.