We had now used eighteen of our hundred available torpedoes and had sunk three ships of the enemy.
At this moment the sun’s glory burst through a rift in the dull sky, whereupon our fleet, welcoming the omen, threw forth the stars and stripes from every flyer and sailed nearer the stricken fleet hungry for further victories. I counted twenty transports and half a dozen battleships. Proudly we circled over them, knowing that our power of destruction meant safety and honour for America.
In the observation chamber General Wood watched, frowning while the wireless crackled out another message from Commodore Tower. Where should we strike next?
In the cabin sat the Crown Prince, his face like marble and the anguish of death in his heart.
Suddenly, a little thing happened that turned Frederick William towards a decision which practically ended the war. The little thing was a burst of music from the Koenig Albert, steaming at the head of the nearer battleship column two miles distant. On she came, shouldering great waves from her bows while hundreds of blue-jackets lined her rails as if to salute or defy the tragic fate hanging over them.
As General Wood appeared once more before his tortured prisoner, there floated over the sea the strains of “Die Wacht Am Rhein,” whereupon up on his feet came the Crown Prince and, head bared, stood listening to this great hymn of the Fatherland, while tears streamed down his face.
“I yield,” he said in broken tones. “I cannot stand out any longer. I will do as you wish, sir.”
“My terms are unconditional surrender,” said the American commander, “to be followed by a truce for peace negotiations. Does Your Imperial Highness agree to unconditional surrender?”
“Those are harsh terms. In our talk at Chicago Your Excellency only asked that I prevent this expedition from sailing. I am ready to order the expedition back to Germany.”
General Wood shook his head.