None too soon, for they were but half a mile off when the Kaiser blew up. Oh, a terrible sight, such as I trust your eyes, my youthful readers, may never behold.
The Germans were really good fellows, and thought of the loss of their ship as a mere trick of fortune.
The unwounded men were landed as prisoners next morning on this thrice beautiful Isle. But Captain and officers as well as the wounded were kept as prisoners of war.
The British merchant ships went on their several ways rejoicing at the turn of the tide, and the German prisoners seemed as happy as schoolboys in a strawberry patch, only they smoked all day, a thing that boys who want to grow up hardy and well should never do.
The Captain of the sunken cruiser could talk good English and so could his officers, and they told many a side-splitting yarn after dinner, so they were really good company.
They were good musicians too, and were both thrilled and delighted when Kep took out his magical little black flute with which he had charmed both snakes and savages.
But they would have McTavish to play them on the great Highland bagpipes, laments, coronachs, and battle pieces. They had never heard so wonderful or warlike an instrument before.
"Shall I play you a lullaby or cradle hymn, Captain?"
"Mein Gott!" exclaimed the German. "You think you can play a lullaby on that."
"Sit here a moment, sir. The skylights are open and I am going to play well forward, or in the ship's waist. Listen."