"'Report rounds of quick-firing ammunition on board,' sir," was the unexpected reply.
But on the heels of the first came a second signal——
"ARMISTICE SIGNED."
The M.L. crews cheered lustily. Hostilities had ceased. Gone, for all time presumably, were those long, tedious vigils on the grey North Sea, those hazardous patrols through the mine-infested waters, those anxious nights when, blow high or blow low, the frail little craft had to put to sea on an apparently trivial errand.
Germany had caved in. Without striking a blow, the powerful fleet with which the Kaiser had hoped to wrest the trident from Britannia's grasp was to pass into inglorious internment. The strangle-hold of the British Navy had triumphed.
More than that. The Freedom of the Seas was established more firmly than before. In the subsequent words of Sir David Beatty, "The surrender of the German Fleet has secured the Freedom of the Seas for such as pass thereon upon their lawful occasions, and is a testimony to the value of sea power which the people of the British Empire will forget at their peril."
A week later the vast anchorage of Scapa Flow was practically empty. The Grand Fleet had left for the Firth of Forth to arrange the actual surrender of the pick of Germany's battleships, cruisers and destroyers. Of the U-boats the first batch of a total of 120 was due to arrive at Harwich on the 20th, but "Beatty's Day" was fixed for the 21st.
"Here's luck, Meredith," exclaimed Wakefield. "Five of us are to represent the M.L. flotillas, and have a joy-trip to meet Fritz. The S.N.O.'s just drawn the names. You're one, and so am I, so pack up and get ready. We're to be temporarily accommodated on board the Lion."
The Day dawned grey and misty as the mighty steel-clad battleships steamed eastward to meet their surrendering foes. Grey predominated everywhere, from the leaden-coloured skies to the leaden-hued water churned by the propellers of a hundred grey-hulled warships. The fluttering White Ensign and the Admirals' flags flying from the leading ships of each division provided a fitting contrast to the otherwise sombre yet soul-inspiring pageant of "Might and Right."
"We're taking no risks," thought Meredith, as a bugle rang for "Action Stations." "It only shows how low a Hun's honour is rated."