He shrugged his shoulders in abject despair.
"Ja wohl," he responded, with a forced laugh. "You 'ave shove me in ver' difficult corner, mein Herr. It is no good. Ze game is hup. I surrender. I mek ze salute."
Drawing his bare feet together and standing very upright, he raised his hand to his cap in formal German fashion, and his crew, one and all, followed his example.
"And now, vot next, if you please?" he asked.
"You will bring your crew on board here," he was told. "Within an hour a British cruiser will be with us to take possession of your submarine."
Ropes were thrown across, and when a gang plank was in place the thirty German prisoners marched disconsolately on board the barque.
The last in the file was Max Hilliger. As he passed by Rodney Redisham he gave a start of recognition.
"Hullo!" he cried, lifting his hand to his forehead. "I'm glad to see an English face again—one that I know. You have outwitted us this time very cleverly, but quite honestly. The English are always honest. They always play the game." And, lowering his voice, he added, "I wish I could say the same of the Germans."
"But you oughtn't to be disloyal to your own people," said Redisham.
"I can't help it," returned Max, standing in front of the midshipman. "I've been mistaken in them all along, and I've had enough of them. You see, I went to school in England, and that has made a heap of difference."