A hatchway now opened, and a procession of German sailors emerged, one after the other, into the sunshine, like ants crawling out of their hole. As each sailor reached the deck he straightened up, lifted his arms, and shouted:
"Kamerad! Kamerad! Kamerad!"
In all four officers and thirty-five men went through this ceremony. Were they really surrendering themselves and their boat, or did these gymnastic exercises conceal some new form of German craftiness? The American ships ceased firing; the Fanning gingerly approached the submarine, while the Nicholson stood by, all her four-inch guns trained upon the German boat, and the machine-guns pointed at the kamerading Germans, ready to shoot them into ribbons at the first sign that the surrender was not a genuine one.
While these preliminaries were taking place, a couple of German sailors disappeared into the interior of the submarine, stayed there a moment or two, and then returned to the deck. They had apparently performed a duty that was characteristically German; for a few minutes after they appeared again, the U-58 began to settle in the water, and soon afterward sank. These men, obeying orders, had opened the cocks and scuttled the ship—this after the officers had surrendered her! As the submarine disappeared, the men and officers dived and started swimming toward the Fanning; four of them became entangled in the radio antennæ and were dragged under the waves; however, in a few minutes these men succeeded in disentangling themselves and joined the swimmers. As the thirty-nine men neared the Fanning it was evident that most of them were extremely wearied and that some were almost exhausted. The sailors from the Fanning threw over lines; some still had the strength to climb up these to the deck, while to others it was necessary to throw other lines which they could adjust under their arms. These latter, limp and wet figures, the American sailors pulled up, much as the fisherman pulls up the inert body of a monster fish. And now an incident took place which reveals that the American navy has rather different ideals of humanity from the German. One of the sailors was so exhausted that he could not adjust the life-lines around his shoulders; he was very apparently drowning. Like a flash Elxer Harwell, chief pharmacist mate, and Francis G. Conner, coxswain, jumped overboard, swam to this floundering German, and adjusted the line around him as solicitously as though he had been a shipmate. The poor wretch—his name was Franz Glinder—was pulled aboard, but he was so far gone that all attempts to resuscitate him failed, and he died on the deck of the Fanning.
Kapitän Amberger, wet and dripping, immediately walked up to Lieut. A. S. Carpender, the commander of the Fanning, clicked his heels together, saluted in the most ceremonious German fashion, and surrendered himself, his officers, and his crew. He also gave his parole for his men. The officers were put in separate staterooms under guard and each of the crew was placed under the protection of a well-armed American jackie—who, it may be assumed, immensely enjoyed this new duty. All the "survivors" were dressed in dry, warm clothes, and good food and drink were given them. They were even supplied with cigarettes and something which they valued more than all the delicacies in the world—soap for a washing, the first soap which they had had for months, as this was an article which was more scarce in Germany than even copper or rubber. Our physicians gave the men first aid, and others attended to all their minor wants. Evidently the fact that they had been captured did not greatly depress their spirits, for, after eating and drinking to their heart's content, the assembled Germans burst into song.
But what was the explanation of this strange proceeding? The German officers, at first rather stiff and sullen, ultimately unbent enough to tell their story. Their submarine had been hanging off the entrance to Queenstown for nearly two days, waiting for this particular convoy to emerge. The officers admitted that they were getting ready to torpedo the Welshman when the discovery that the Fanning was only a short distance away compelled a sudden change in their plans. Few "ash cans" dropped in the course of the war reached their objective with the unerring accuracy of the one which now came from this American destroyer. It did not crush the submarine but the concussion wrecked the motors, making it impossible for it to navigate, jammed its diving rudders, making the boat uncontrollable under the water, and broke the oil leads, practically shutting off the supply of this indispensable fuel. Indeed, it would be impossible to conceive of a submarine in a more helpless and unmanageable state. The officers had the option of two alternatives: to sink until the pressure of the water crushed the boat like so much paper, or to blow the ballast tanks, rise to the surface, and surrender. Even while the commander was mentally debating this problem, the submarine was rapidly descending to the bottom; when it reached a depth of two hundred feet, which was about all that it could stand, the commander decided to take his chances with the Americans. Rising to the top involved great dangers; but the guns of the destroyers seemed less formidable to these cornered Germans than the certainty of the horrible death that awaited them under the waves.
Admiral Bayly came to meet the Fanning as she sailed into Queenstown with her unexpected cargo. He went on board the destroyer to congratulate personally the officers and men upon their achievement. He published to the assembled company a cablegram just received from the Admiralty in London:
Express to commanding officers and men of the United States ship Fanning their Lordships' high appreciation of their successful action against enemy submarine.
I added a telegram of my own, ending up with the words, which seemed to amuse the officers and men: "Go out and do it again."
For this action the commanding officer of the Fanning, Lieutenant-Commander Carpender, was recommended by the Admiralty for the D.S.O., which was subsequently conferred upon him by the King at Buckingham Palace.