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Down in the torpedo room, bottled up under water where no sound could escape to attract the attention of the outside world, Mike Mowrey had tuned up his old banjo and the boys were having an old-fashioned songfest. "For it's always fair weather," came the jolly strains that sounded up in the conning tower above the whirr of the ship's engines.
Following the shot for a moment the frenzied gunner was elated to note that the machine just above sagged suddenly to one side. Like a bird with a broken pinion it swerved drunkenly in its course and began slowly to come down. Sustaining wires had been cut by the shell fire from the Dewey and the airplane was out of commission. "Guess that fellow is done for," said Mowrey.
Running on the surface, the oil engines were put to their best endeavor and the Dewey cleft the whitecaps at her best speed. "Go forward, Mr. Hammond, and inquire of Chief Gunner Mowrey how many torpedoes we have aboard," ordered Lieutenant McClure. Jack hurried away and returned in a few minutes to report that all four tubes were loaded and two auxiliary Whiteheads in the racks.
Chief Gunner Mowrey and his crew in the torpedo chamber forward were signaled to "stand by the guns ready for action," which meant in this case the huge firing tubes and the Whitehead torpedoes. Jack and Ted fell into their places, stripped to the waist, and making sure that the reserve torpedoes were ready for any emergency.
In a moment Officer Cleary appeared and the plan was unfolded to him. In quicker time than it takes to relate it, the Dewey's commander had sent orders forward for Mike Mowrey to load the torpedo tubes and for Chief Engineer Blaine to get his engines in motion. "What's up?" cried Bill Witt as Ted came bouncing into the torpedo room. "Wait a moment and you'll see," replied Ted.
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