A vessel of some description was approaching rapidly. The enormous "bone in her teeth" as her sharp bows cleft the waves into frothy clouds of foam showed that she was moving at a terrific rate. "An English ship!" exclaimed the fellow excitedly. "A U-boat hunter! Quick, run up the white flag, or we'll be blown to bits!" All was scurry bordering on panic. There was a hasty rush to find the emblem of surrender. Hans Furst, gripping the interpreter by the shoulders, shouted to him to ask the English officers to go aft and stand in a conspicuous place. Cumberleigh and his companions fell in with the request with the greatest good humour. They had no desire to become objectives for the approaching vessel's quick-firers. They realised that deliverance from a hideous captivity was at hand. Suddenly Kaspar Krauss, who was standing just abaft the conning-tower, shouted to his fellow mutineer-in-chief. "It's one of our U-boats after all," he exclaimed. "Now we shall have to be most careful." "Surely not," questioned Furst, snatching up a pair of binoculars. Then, after a brief scrutiny, he added, "You're right, Kaspar. There's a number--U 231--painted on her conning-tower. Kick those Englishmen below. They will be of no further use to us. Dietrich, untoggle that white flag and hoist our ensign again. Make our private signal, too. For heaven's sake look sharp about it!" Calling to two or three of his comrades, Kaspar Krauss began to make his way aft, with the intention of putting into execution the congenial task of kicking the Englishmen below. Before he had taken a couple of steps, the flash of a gun brought him up all standing. Dumfounded, he stared at the oncoming vessel. Even the terrific splash of the ricochetting shot, barely fifty yards away, failed to detract his attention, for the approaching craft had hoisted her colours--no Black Cross Ensign, but the White Ensign of a navy that has a glorious tradition covering over a thousand years. The seaman Dietrich paused in the act of hoisting the U-boat's ensign. Frantically Furst shouted to him to run up the white flag after all. "Be quick!" yelled half a dozen voices. "Be quick before she fires again!" It was an excellent example of the lack of discipline. When the men were ruled, although by an iron hand, they did their work smartly and well. In secret they grumbled, but the fact remained they carried out the orders of their commanding officers with automaton-like precision. Deprived by their own act of a real leader, they had deteriorated within the space of a few hours into a panic-stricken mob.