Suddenly the officer turned on a man standing there and said: "You're not a German." The man answered saying: "No, sir; I am a Dane." "Well, what are you doing here?" was the next question. The Dane, Jensen, told him he was from the _Wolf_ and was working here on the _Igotz Mendi_, and that there were American and British prisoners on board, including some women and children. After completing his rounds, the Danish officer went on deck and told Lieutenant Lagoni that he was ready, and calling him aside, told him what he had found out. Lieutenant Lagoni then gave orders to disable the wireless plant and told Rose that the tug could not assist him off the beach, and that at the end of twenty-four hours the vessel would be interned providing she was still under German flag, and advised him to land any prisoners he had. [Illustration: "IGOTZ MENDI" ASHORE ON THE DANISH COAST. TAKEN THE MORNING WE LANDED, FEBRUARY 26TH, 1918.] [Illustration: LIFE BOAT LEAVING THE BEACH FOR THE STRANDED "IGOTZ MENDI".] Of course during all this talk we prisoners knew nothing at all of what was going on, and when we saw the Danish officers leaving we came to the conclusion that our case was lost, and as there was an armed sentry pacing back and forth in front of the two doors leading from the cabin to the deck, it looked black indeed, and I for one felt very, very disappointed. The strain was beginning to tell on my wife again; so we both lay down on the bunk with our clothes on and listened to Rose on the bridge, ringing the telegraph and working his engines in a vain attempt to get his vessel off the beach. As I lay there thinking, I could not but pity Rose, realising how he must have felt.