"I am sorry, but it is not my fault," exclaimed the Norwegian skipper to Tressidar as he telegraphed to the engine-room for half-speed astern.
"You did your best: you had no choice," replied the sub. "We must make the best of the situation."
While the German torpedo-boat was manoeuvring to come alongside (it saved the trouble of sending away a boarding-party), Tressidar sent a couple of seamen to fetch the rifles and ammunition from the cabin. These he dropped overboard. At least they would not be allowed to fall into the hands of the enemy.
Barely had this task been completed when a tall, full-faced, blond unter-leutnant appeared over the side, followed by half a dozen armed men.
Directly he caught sight of Tressidar and the British seamen he half hesitated, fearing a trap. Then, possibly realising that he had thirty German warships to back him up, he waxed bold, and fiercely twirling his fair moustache, haughtily demanded to know what these English swine were doing on board a Norwegian ship?
The skipper of the "Freya," who spoke German as fluently as he did English, explained briefly and to the point, saying that he had acted merely in the dictates of humanity.
"Then so much the worse for you," retorted the German officer.
He walked to the side and reported his find to his superior, the kapitan of the torpedo-boat. Great was the excitement on board, while the news was quickly transmitted by semaphore to the flagship, which happened to be one of the three light cruisers.
Tressidar and the cutter's crew were then ordered over the side and sent on board the torpedo-boat. A thorough search was then made of the "Freya" lest any more British officers and men might still be in hiding, but without result.
"Your vessel is a prize to the German Government," declared the unter-leutnant, addressing the Norwegian skipper.