THE SURRENDER
Germany's sea surrender began at dawn on November 20, nine days after the
signing of the armistice.
Out in this misty expanse of the North Sea the allied battleships had
taken up their positions in a fifty-mile line of greyhounds. Aboard the
allied battleships every eye was strained to the east; every man was on
the alert. The British and allied war vessels presented a noble sight,
stretched out as far as the eye could see, and beyond.
Every ship was stripped for action. Crews were at their posts. Not until
the surrender was an accomplished fact would the vigilance of the British
naval authorities be relaxed. Not until the German vessels were safe in
the hands of the allies would British officers and crews be certain that
the enemy was not meditating trickery up to the last moment.
The destroyer Essex, commanded by Jack, as has already been said, was at
the extreme east of the long line of battleships. Beyond it were the
flagship of Admiral Beatty, flanked still farther east by three big war
vessels, and Admiral Tyrwhitt's flagship.
Jack and Frank were on the bridge of the destroyer. Other officers were at
their posts. The crews stood to their guns. Below, the engine room was the
scene of activity. A full head of steam was kept up, for there was no
telling at what moment it might be needed.
Came a shrill whistle from the farthest advanced British vessel, followed
by a cry from the lookout aboard the destroyer:
"Here they come!"
As the red sun rose above the horizon the first submarine appeared in
sight. Soon after seven o'clock, twenty-seven German submarines were seen
in line, accompanied by two destroyers. These latter were the Tibania and
the Serra Venta, which accompanied the flotilla to take the submarine
crews back to Germany.
All submarines were on the surface, with their hatches open and their
crews standing on deck. They were flying no flags whatever, and their guns
were trained fore and aft in accordance with previous instructions from
Admiral Beatty.
Until the moment that they had sighted the first ship of the British
fleet, the German flag had flown from the mastheads of the various
undersea craft, but they had been hauled down at once when the allied war
vessels came into view.
The leading destroyer, in response to a signal from Admiral Beatty on his
flagship, altered her course slightly and headed toward the coast of
England.
The wireless instrument aboard the destroyer Essex clattered and a few
moments later the radio operator rushed to the bridge with a message for
Jack. The latter read it quickly, then said:
"Send an O.K. to the admiral?'
"What's up, Jack?" asked Frank.
"Lower half a dozen small boats, Mr. Hetherton," instructed Jack before
replying to Frank's question, "and have them manned by a score of men
each, fully armed."
"Aye, aye, sir."
Lieutenant Hetherton hurried away.
"What's up, Jack?" asked Frank again.
"I have been ordered to inspect each submarine as it comes abreast of us,"
Jack replied. "Apparently the admiral still fears treachery. I'll remain
aboard here, and leave the work to you and the other officers."
This was done. As each submarine drew up with the Essex she was boarded by
a score of the Essex's men. Some stood guard at the hatches with weapons
held ready, while an officer and the others of the crew went below for a
hurried trip of inspection, searching them diligently for "booby traps,"
and other signs of treachery.
This necessitated a slowing down in the speed of the German craft, but at
length the work was accomplished and Frank and his men, and all others
belonging aboard the Essex, returned to their ship.
"All serene, Jack," Frank reported.
"Very well, I shall so inform the admiral."
He scribbled off a brief message, which he sent to the radio room.
Now, with the submarines well along the line, the British fleet began to
move--escorting the U-Boats toward Harwich. The fleet would return the
next day to receive the surrender of the larger enemy war vessels, but
to-day it meant to make sure that the submarines were taken safely to
port.
There was one brief halt while the German admiral in command of the
flotilla went aboard Admiral Tyrwhitt's flagship to make formal surrender
of the submarines. He was accompanied by two members of his staff.
Admiral Tyrwhitt received him on the bridge. There were tears in the eyes
of the German admiral as he said:
"Sir, I surrender to you this submarine fleet of the Imperial German
navy."
He extended his sword.
Admiral Tyrwhitt waved back the sword and accepted the surrender in a few
brief words. The German admiral turned on his heel and walked to the rail.
There one of his officers held out his hand to a British lieutenant who
was nearby.
The latter refused it, and the German turned away muttering to himself in
his native tongue. The German admiral and his officers returned to the
destroyer, and the march of the fleets continued.
It was a procession of broken German hopes--in the van, a destroyer of the
unbeaten navy; behind, the cruel pirate craft that were to subjugate the
sea. Each of the allied warships turned, and keeping a careful lookout,
steamed toward Harwich.
As the Essex passed one of the largest submarines, which carried two 5.9
guns, Frank counted forty-three officers and men on her deck. The craft
was at least three hundred feet long.
"By George! Isn't she a whopper?" exclaimed the lad.
Jack nodded.
"She is indeed. The largest submarine I ever saw."
Near the Shipwash lightship, three large British seaplanes appeared
overhead. They were followed by a single airship. The sight of the Harwich
forces, which soon appeared in the distance, together with the seaplanes
and the airship, was a most impressive one.
Suddenly two carrier pigeons were released aboard one of the captured
submarines.
A shock ran through the officers and crew of every allied vessel in sight.
Apparently something was wrong. Sharp orders rang out. But the matter
passed over. It was explained that the pigeons had been released merely to
carry back to Germany the news that the surrender had been made.
Nevertheless, the act called forth a vigorous protest from the flagship of
the British commander-in-chief.
"Another act like that and I shall sink you," was Admiral Beatty's
message.
Still ten miles off shore, the procession came to a halt. Feverish
activity was manifest aboard the British vessels. Small boats were lowered
and put off toward the submarines. These carried British crews that were
to take over the vessels and conduct them to port. As fast as a British
crew took possession, the German crews were transferred to the German
destroyers there for the purpose of taking them back to Germany.
Then the procession moved toward Harwich again.
As the boats went through the gates into Harwich harbor, a white ensign
was run up on each of them, with the German flag flying underneath.
Before being removed to the destroyers, which were to carry them back,
each submarine commander, who were the only Germans left aboard the
vessels as they passed into the harbor, was required to sign a declaration
that his submarine was in perfect running order, that his periscope was
intact, the torpedoes unloaded and the torpedo head safe.
Despite orders issued to the Harwich forces in advance, to the effect that
no demonstration must be permitted in the city after the surrender of the
German fleet, wild cheering broke out on the water front as the
submarines, escorted by the great British warships, steamed into the
harbor.
Military police cleared the water front of the dense throng that had
gathered, but the best efforts they put forth were unable to still the
bedlam that had broken loose.
Commanders of the British ships had difficulty in restraining cheers by
their crews and later by the Harwich forces themselves when the fleet of
captured submarines was turned over to Captain Addison, the commandant at
that port.
Harbor space for the surrendered U-Boats had been provided in advance,
and the vessels were now piloted to these places, where they were placed
under heavy guard.
This work took time, and it was almost dark before the last submarine had
been escorted to its resting place.
All day crowds thronged the streets of Harwich, cheering and yelling
madly. In vain the military authorities tried to stop the celebration. As
well have tried to shut out the sound of thunder in the heavens. At last
the authorities gave it up as a bad job, and joy and happiness ran rampant
and unrestrained.
It was a glorious day for England, and thousands of persons from London
and the largest cities of the island had hurried to Harwich to witness the
formal surrender of the fleet and its internment. All night the thousands
paraded the streets of the little village, the celebration seeming to grow
rather than to diminish as the early morning hours approached.
So passed the bulk of Germany's undersea fighting strength into the hands
of Great Britain and her allies. No longer would they terrorize with their
ruthless warfare. They were safe at last. The fangs of the undersea
serpents had been drawn.
And on the night of November 20, 1918, thus made harmless, they lay
quietly in the harbor of Harwich, England, above them flying the Union
Jack.