gly out of the sea, or in nautical parlance it was a "low dawn".
There was a chilliness in the air that made the lads wish that they had
been wearing overcoats.

They looked in vain for U75's consort. The unterseeboot that was to
deal the coward's blow was not to be seen. Her presence was to be kept
a secret from the crew of the decoy.

Kapitan Schwalbe, accompanied by his Unter-leutnant, made his way aft.
He looked pale and care-worn. He had lost his military manner. His
gait suggested that of a man recovering from a long illness.

"My men," he exclaimed, "circumstances over which I have no control
make it necessary to bring our cruise to a speedy termination. U75 is
no longer in a state of efficiency, either for offence or flight. It
therefore remains for us to save our lives by surrendering to the first
English ship of war that we fall in with. It is a humiliating and
distasteful step to take, but there is no option."

The crew heard this lying speech in silence. They hardly knew what to
make of it. The majority mentally decided that it was better to be
imprisoned in England than to rot on the bed of the sea. Kapitan
Schwalbe had no faith in his men's histrionic abilities; he was also
afraid that they would oppose the scheme that he himself had deprecated
as being too risky.

Hiding their indignation, Ross and his chum saw the Kapitan hand a
petty officer a white flag. The man took it, and lashed short pieces
of cord to two adjacent corners.

Hans Koppe sidled up to his charges.

"You will soon be free," he remarked. "Ach! but you do not seem
overjoyed. You English are indeed a queer race."

Receiving no reply, the man went below to follow the example of his
comrades, who were getting together their personal belongings. Many of
them thought of the times when they had seen non-belligerents do
likewise. It was the boot on the other foot with a vengeance.

Ross gave another glance across the horizon. Nothing was in sight.
Gripping his chum's arm, he led him for'ard. U75 was motionless. The
deck was deserted. A quartermaster stood on the navigation platform in
front of the conning-tower. Kapitan Schwalbe and his Unter-leutnant
had likewise vanished.

As Ross passed the conning-tower, he pulled out his knife and deftly
severed the lashings of a couple of buoys secured to the hand-rail. It
was the first act of the lad's plan of operations.

"Vessel on the port bow, sir!" shouted the quarte