"Good! Good!" he cried.
"The sentence of this court martial," continued the German commander unheeding Lord Hastings, "is that the prisoners all be shot at sunrise tomorrow. Commander Bernstorff, since you are so eager to perform the disagreeable duty, you may command the execution; and that your men may think the less of you, as president of this court martial, I order you to choose the firing squad from among your own crew."
Lord Hastings beamed on him.
"It shall be done with pleasure," he declared eagerly.
"And," continued the president of the court martial, "you shall take the prisoners aboard your own vessel and you shall be held responsible for them. I could almost hope they would escape, so that you should suffer," he added to himself.
"Good, sir. Good!" cried Lord Hastings. "I shall remove them at once, sir."
"One thing more," said the commander sharply. "They must not be ill-treated. Understand?"
Lord Hastings' face fell in well-feigned disappointment. He appeared to draw himself together, saluted and said with an apparent effort.
"You shall be obeyed, sir."
"Take them away, then."