Captain Templeton signalled the engine room for two-thirds speed ahead. Running lights were blanketed on the four destroyers, and the ships fell into column.
Lieutenant Chadwick felt a drop on his face. He held out a hand.
"Rain," he said briefly.
Jack—Captain Templeton—nodded.
"So much the better, Frank," he replied.
The four destroyers cleared the channel light and spread out like a fan into line formation.
"Full speed ahead!" came Jack's next command.
The Plymouth leaped ahead, as did her sister ships on either side.
"We're off," said Frank.
Away they sped in the darkness, a division of four Yankee destroyers, tearing through the Irish sea on a rainy morning; Frank knew there were four ships in line, but all he could see was his guide, a black smudge in the darkness, a few ship lengths away on his port bow. Directly she was blotted from sight by a rain squall.