"I'll see sir," replied the sub., and ordering his men to the other end of the boat, so as to be out of harm's way in the event of an explosion, he unscrewed a disc in one of the ends of the cylinder. Within was a sheet of paper on which was written, "We surrender. Spare our lives. We will ascend in ten minutes from now—6.15 a.m., mid-continental time. Max Falkenheim, Kapitan-leutnant."
"By Jove, sir, we've made a capture!" announced Tressidar, handing the document to his superior officer. "It's signed by that fellow Falkenheim, the man who tried to escape from Auldhaig."
"And was afterwards rescued by some of his precious compatriots when they blew in the wall of his prison. I remember," added the lieutenant grimly. "One of the foxiest rascals that ever sailed under the Black Cross ensign. Yes, by smoke, dulce et decorum est to lay that chap by the heels. Pity you cut that rope, though."
"Why, sir?" asked the sub.
"Because we cannot now reply to the strafed Huns. See, there's a telephonic receiver inside the cylinder, and the wires are led inside the rope. Writing that note was to make sure that we should know of their willingness to surrender in case we didn't notice the telephone. Confound that brute! That was a near one."
The lieutenant's remark was addressed to a huge shell that, having already ricochetted once, struck the water within twenty yards of the nearest steamboat, and rebounding again, finally disappeared in a column of spray a mile away. The displacement of water caused by the impinging of the projectile made the little flotilla rock violently, while officers and men were drenched by the deluge of foam.
"Hurry up! Hurry up!" muttered the lieutenant impatiently, by way of invoking the submerged "U" boat. "You've had a good ten minutes and we want to make your acquaintance."
A reply came in the form of a slight disturbance of the water. The submarine was "blowing" her water-ballast tanks.
Then slowly—so gradually that the picquet-boats had ample time to back clear—the surrendered craft rose to the surface, as if dubious of the fate that awaited her.
The conning-tower hatch was thrown open, and Kapitan Falkenheim appeared, followed by his unter-leutnant. Still in doubt as to their reception, they saluted their conquerors, who punctiliously returned the compliment. At the same time the crew issued from the after-hatch and formed up, holding their hands above their heads.