“Keep your wits, men, and the last of you will reach shore all right,” called an officer who was forcing his way down the stairs. “Some of you men turn aside and give me a chance to get to the deck below.”
His coolness, and his willingness to be on the mess deck calmed the excitement of many a young soldier who was eager to get up to the spar deck. From a deck rail in front of the chart-house a major with a lusty voice shouted down:
“No excitement, men! This ship, if she sinks, will be a long time doing it. There will be time to get every man off, and it will be done if you listen to orders and obey them.”
That torpedo had struck deep into the ship’s vitals, stopping the engines instantly.
Only here and there was there a soldier who did not have his life belt on. These now scrambled for their belts.
From the flagship of the destroyers at the head of the line swift signals were wigwagged and repeated down the lines. One of them read:
“‘Logan’ stand by ‘Castle City’ for rescue work.”
Instantly Dave ordered the full-speed signal telegraphed to the engine room, then added, as the destroyer raced down the line:
“Keep all gunners and lookouts at their stations, Mr. Dalzell. Mr. Briggs will take charge of manning and lowering our two launches and the cutters, and will stand by to lower away.”
The destroyer “Adams” had already caught a hawse-line from the “Castle City” by the time Dave’s craft reached the scene. With the hawser made fast the destroyer was towing the stricken transport out of the fleet line.