A rousing cheer, as on the Constitution, greeted this announcement, and the five officers were warmly congratulated. Decatur then turned to the men:
“Of you, my men,” he said, “I will name one who may go—the pilot, Salvatore Catalano. I wish sixty-one men out of the ship’s company, and I shall take the first sixty-one that volunteer. Let each man who wishes to go advance two steps.”
As if moved by a common impulse, every man and boy on the ship, including two or three just out of the sick-bay, who had not yet reported for duty, advanced two steps.
Decatur stood looking at them, his fine face lighted up with pleasure.
“My men,” he said, “it is impossible that all should go. Let those who are not physically strong, and those under twenty and over forty, step back.”
Not a man moved. In the midst of the dead pause Danny Dixon spoke up, touching his hat:
“Please, sir,” he said, “ain’t none of us more’n forty or less’n twenty. And ain’t a one of us that ain’t jist as healthy and strong as a bull whale.”
Decatur managed to take this without smiling, but replied: “Very well; pipe down, boatswain! Within an hour I shall have a list made out of sixty-one men that I wish to accompany me.”
Summoning Lawrence, his first lieutenant, Decatur, with Stewart and Somers, disappeared in the cabin, and the men were dismissed.
Next morning, at daylight, the five officers from the Argus, the five midshipmen from the Constitution, the sixty-one petty officers and seamen, and the pilot Catalano, were assembled on the deck of the ketch. The accommodations were bad, and not more than one half the officers could sling their hammocks at one time; but not a word of complaint was heard. Early as it was, Somers was on hand to bid his friend good-by. Just as the pale pink flush of dawn lightened the dark water, the Intrepid, hoisting one lateen sail, got under way, and Somers, wringing Decatur’s hand, dropped into his boat alongside. As the ketch caught the morning breeze and began to glide rapidly out toward the offing, Decatur ran aft and waved his cap at Somers, standing up in the boat, who returned it, and then pulled away to his own vessel. The Siren, being a fast sailer, did not leave until the sun was well up, when she, too, spread her white wings and flew.