oard the submarines, to accept their surrender, to direct their
further passage to within the booms at Harwich.

The commander of _Melampus_ focused his glasses on the eleventh
submarine of the long straggling line. The U-boat had a wash over his
screws and was apparently steaming ahead to overtake his fellows, now
fading into the mist in the direction of their prison gates.

"Our group," he said: then, to the signalman, "Tell him to stop
instantly!"

The bluejacket stood out on the sparring of the bridge and signalled
with his hand-flags. The submarine still moved ahead at speed, his
exhaust panting at pressure. The German commander could not (or would
not) understand, and it was necessary to hoist 'M N' of the
International Code. The two flags were sufficient: he threw his engines
astern and brought up to await further orders. His followers arrived on
the station. Some cast anchor, others slowed and stopped. All took note
of the flags--St. Andrew's cross over blue and white checquers, hoisted
at the destroyer's yard-arm--and obeyed the summary signal.

'M N!' International Code! The old flags of the days when there was
peace on the sea, when the German commercial ensign was known and
familiar and respected in the seaports of the world!

How many of the Germans would understand the full significance of the
hoist that brought them to a standstill--the import of the flags
drooping in the windless air--the beckoning of the coloured fabric that
ended their murder trade. The day had long passed since they had used
this warning signal for a procedure in law and order. No 'M N' to
_Lusitania_ before littering the Irish Sea with wreckage and the pitiful
bodies of women and small children: no signal to _Arabic_ or _Persia_:
no warning to _Belgian Prince_, to _California_, to all the long and
ghastly list: no summons to the hospital ships--alight and blazoned to
advertise their humane mission. And now--their ensign dishonoured, their
name as seamen condemned to the everlasting tale of infamy, their proud
commercial seafaring destroyed--to come in with the blood on their
hands, and render and submit to the mandate of a two-flag hoist!

'M N!' The Code of the Nations! The summons to peaceful seafarers! 'Stop
instantly!' Disobey at your peril! At last, at long last, the Freedom of
the Seas--the security of the ships--the safety of all who pass on their
lawful occasions--completely re-established by the flaunt of the old
flags