“All serene, Jack,” Frank reported.

“Very well, I shall so inform the admiral.”

He scribbled off a brief message, which he sent to the radio room.

Now, with the submarines well along the line, the British fleet began to move—­escorting the U-Boats toward Harwich.  The fleet would return the next day to receive the surrender of the larger enemy war vessels, but to-day it meant to make sure that the submarines were taken safely to port.

There was one brief halt while the German admiral in command of the flotilla went aboard Admiral Tyrwhitt’s flagship to make formal surrender of the submarines.  He was accompanied by two members of his staff.

Admiral Tyrwhitt received him on the bridge.  There were tears in the eyes of the German admiral as he said: 

“Sir, I surrender to you this submarine fleet of the Imperial German navy.”

He extended his sword.

Admiral Tyrwhitt waved back the sword and accepted the surrender in a few brief words.  The German admiral turned on his heel and walked to the rail.  There one of his officers held out his hand to a British lieutenant who was nearby.

The latter refused it, and the German turned away muttering to himself in his native tongue.  The German admiral and his officers returned to the destroyer, and the march of the fleets continued.

It was a procession of broken German hopes—­in the van, a destroyer of the unbeaten navy; behind, the cruel pirate craft that were to subjugate the sea.  Each of the allied warships turned, and keeping a careful lookout, steamed toward Harwich.

As the Essex passed one of the largest submarines, which carried two 5.9 guns, Frank counted forty-three officers and men on her deck.  The craft was at least three hundred feet long.

“By George!  Isn’t she a whopper?” exclaimed the lad.

Jack nodded.

“She is indeed.  The largest submarine I ever saw.”

Near the Shipwash lightship, three large British seaplanes appeared overhead.  They were followed by a single airship.  The sight of the Harwich forces, which soon appeared in the distance, together with the seaplanes and the airship, was a most impressive one.

Suddenly two carrier pigeons were released aboard one of the captured submarines.

A shock ran through the officers and crew of every allied vessel in sight.  Apparently something was wrong.  Sharp orders rang out.  But the matter passed over.  It was explained that the pigeons had been released merely to carry back to Germany the news that the surrender had been made.

Nevertheless, the act called forth a vigorous protest from the flagship of the British commander-in-chief.

“Another act like that and I shall sink you,” was Admiral Beatty’s message.

Still ten miles off shore, the procession came to a halt.  Feverish activity was manifest aboard the British vessels.  Small boats were lowered and put off toward the submarines.  These carried British crews that were to take over the vessels and conduct them to port.  As fast as a British crew took possession, the German crews were transferred to the German destroyers there for the purpose of taking them back to Germany.