Although Cumberleigh boosted the Huns pretty severely, there was considerable delay before M.L. 1497 could cast off. It was evident that she had reached her limit in the salvage line. The Hun vessels were nearly all gone. A few had been beached through the prompt action of the British patrol and harbour service vessels. By the time Meredith gave the order for "Easy astern," the vast anchorage, crowded a brief half-hour previously, was now bare save for small craft and boats laden with Germans, who, now that their act of melodramatic bravado was accomplished, were wondering what the result of their gross breach of faith would entail. There was flotsam everywhere. The water was covered with oil and wreckage, and the M.L.'s and other craft had to exercise great caution lest their propellers should foul the drifting planks and spars as they cruised round, shepherding the Huns to a place of safe custody. "By Jove! Look!" exclaimed Kenneth, calling Cumberleigh's attention to a large circular mass of foliage. "Looks like a wreath," observed the R.A.F. officer. "Exactly," agreed Meredith. "There were dozens of them on board the _Hohenhoorn_. The blighters said they were for an officer's funeral--a ship's funeral, if you like. And there's another one." There were, in fact, scores, each wreath entwined with red, white and black ribbons and bearing the name of the ship on which it had been placed when the act of scuttling was performed--a circumstance which tends to prove that the violation of the Armistice terms had been connived at by the existing German government. "Who's that semaphoring?" asked Cumberleigh, indicating a steam pinnace about three hundred yards away, in the stern-sheets of which a bluejacket was waving a pair of hand-flags. Kenneth levelled his glasses. Simultaneously one of the M.L.'s crew prepared to receive the message. "It's Geordie Morpeth," exclaimed Meredith. "His old packet's broken down and he's getting his signalman to ask us for a tow." "Will--you--come--alongside?" read out the receiving signalman. "They don't give a reason, sir," he added; "but it looks as if they've fouled some wreckage." Very cautiously M.L. 1497 approached the apparently disabled steam pinnace. "Ahoy, there!" shouted Kenneth. "What's wrong?" Morpeth swung his arm in the direction astern. "We've got some one in tow," he replied. "I knew Captain Cumberleigh was aboard you, and he might be interested." Sitting on the engine-room casing were half a dozen Germans, including an unter-leutnant, all dripping wet and looking thoroughly dejected. "Just lugged 'em out of the ditch," remarked Morpeth, stating what was an obvious fact. "But that's not what I hailed you for. Just look aft." What had appeared to be at first sight a tangle of debris caught in the steam pinnace's propeller was one of the German funeral wreaths. In the centre was the body of a man, his feet secured to the stern-sheets by means of a running bowline.