On board the German submarines there were many anxious faces. For the most part the officers looked sullen and felt uncomfortable. They were not altogether too sure of the nature of their reception. Some had consciences that had developed amazingly during the last few days. They remembered the hospital ships and unarmed merchantmen that they had sunk without pity, helpless boats' crews massacred in order to carry out the policy of _spurlos versenkt_, and now they were regretting those brutal acts, not because they were brutal, but because there is such a thing as reprisal. Others, hopeful that Englishmen would be ready to shake hands and forget the past, were more cheerful. In any case the war was over, and with it the great chance of being sent to the bottom by the explosion of one of those dreadful depth charges. No fraternization was the British Admiral's order. The hand of the cowardly Hun was too dirty to be grasped by that of a British tar. For all time the record of Germany on the sea will remain, and its effect will be seen in the aloof demeanour of all honest seamen toward the descendants of the Hun pirates. On the signal: "Board, and take over the prizes", the boarding officers rowed off to their "opposite numbers". Seton, in the _Bolero's_ whaler, ran alongside a large U-boat, whose six-inch guns and lofty conning-tower proclaimed her to be one of the latest type of fully 300 feet in length. Punctiliously the U-boat kapitan-leutnant saluted, then held out his hand. Returning the salute, but ignoring the proffered welcome, Alec himself received a surprise, for the German was an old acquaintance, von Kloster. The recognition was mutual. The German's sallow features turned ashy-grey. His frame shook with the emotion of fear. Never had he expected to come face to face with his former prisoner. He had been confident in the belief that Seton had been blown to atoms on Zeebrugge Mole. "Mercy, mercy!" exclaimed von Kloster. "I vill amends make." "Stow it!" interrupted Seton brusquely. The exhibition of panic angered him. "You've nothing to be frightened about. Now, sir, where are your papers?" The formal deed of surrender was accomplished, but von Kloster seemed persistent to make a statement. "Well, what is it?" asked Alec. "You Count Otto von Brockdorff-Giespert remember?" asked von Kloster in broken English. "I think I recall the name," admitted Seton grimly. "Where is the--er--fellow?" "He is dead," declared the kapitan-leutnant. He paused, hoping to catch a sign of satisfaction in Alec's face at the tidings. Seton's features betrayed nothing. "He opposed to der surrender vos," continued von Kloster. "It vos at Wilhelmshaven. He would make der unterseebooten put to sea to make fight, but der seamen make mutiny and threw him into der sea. It vos Count von Brockdorff-Giespert who order me to you place on der Mole at Zeebrugge." "Then he did me a very good turn," rejoined Seton.