The German Captain took his bad luck in good part, but he was, of course, as sick as we were rejoiced at the turn events had taken.  He had known the night before he could get no help from the Danish authorities, as they refused towing assistance till all the passengers had been taken off the ship.  But he had hoped to get off unaided at four in the morning, and he was not going to admit defeat and loss till they were absolutely certain.  He professed great anger with the Danes, saying that if they had only helped as he requested, the ship could have been towed off in the night, and we with all our baggage could have been landed at a Danish port alongside a pier the next morning, instead of having to leave all our baggage behind on the ship.  I fancy not many of us believed this; if the ship had been got off we should have brought up at Kiel, and not at any Danish port.  And, as the tug Captain said afterwards, if he had towed the ship off the Germans would have most likely cut the hawser directly afterwards, he would have received no pay for his work, and we certainly should not have landed in Denmark.

It was a terrible blow for Lieutenant Rose; enough to put an end to his prospects in the Imperial German Navy.  Let us pay a tribute to a fallen enemy, for such he now became.  It is pleasing to be able to record, in a German-made war which has crowded into its four years such heartbreaking sorrow, misery, horror, and destruction as has surely never been known in a similar period in the world’s history, and with Germany’s unparalleled record of wickedness and calculated cruelty to her captives and those she wished to terrorize on land and sea, that there were still remaining some Germans who had retained some idea of more humane treatment towards those who had the misfortune to fall into their hands.  Fortunately for us, Lieutenant Rose was one of these—­a striking contrast to the devils in his country’s U boats.  He had succeeded in maintaining not unfriendly relations with his captives, and had on the whole done his best for them under the conditions prevailing.  He had evaded capture for fifteen months, and had skilfully carried his ship through terrible storms and many other perils—­almost to port.  Now, just at the very last moment when it seemed absolutely certain he would get his prize home and reap his reward, his hopes were dashed, and failure, blank and utter failure, was the result.  But the death of his hopes meant for us the resurrection of ours, and his failure, freedom for us all.

CHAPTER XI

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