“So it’s all over.”

It was Frank who spoke.  He and Jack were in the latter’s cabin on the Essex.  The ship was lying at anchor just outside Harwich harbor, riding gently on the swell of the waves.

“Yes, it’s all over,” said Jack, “and I’m glad.”

“So am I,” Frank declared; “and yet we have had a good time.”

“So we have, of a kind.  And still you can’t rightly call it a good time when all we have been doing is to seek, kill and destroy.”

“But it had to be done,” Frank protested.

“Oh, I know that as well as you do.  But war is a terrible thing, and the more you see of it the more certain you become that it is all foolishness.”

“And yet, you can’t permit a big bully to run amuck and smash up things all over the world.”

“That’s true, of course, and it’s exactly what the kaiser and his war machine tried to do.  Now, the machine had to be smashed, of course, and it has been smashed.  But how long will it take the world to recover?  How long will it take to rebuild what has been destroyed in these four years of war?”

Frank shrugged his shoulders.

“I’m not good at conundrums,” he replied.

“Nor I; and yet I’ll venture to say that the reconstruction days will be as hard as many we have experienced in the war.”

“The thing that I want to know,” said Frank, changing the subject abruptly, “is just what will be done with Germany in the final peace conference.”

“You know as much about it as I do,” replied Jack, “but my own idea is that the German empire will be dismembered—­divided into the states of Prussia, Saxony, and so forth, as they were years before they united under one head.”

“I’m sure I hope so.  Certainly the allies will never permit Germany to attain such power that may make all our fighting futile—­they’ll never let her grow strong enough to start another world struggle.”

The lads conversed far into the night before retiring.  Nevertheless they were astir at an early hour, awaiting orders that they knew must come that day; and they came shortly after noon in the shape of a wireless from Lord Hastings.

“Return to Dover at once,” the message read.

Again the Essex put to sea.

But it was upon a peaceful voyage that the destroyer was bound now.  No longer did her decks bristle with shining guns, crew at quarters and ready for action.  True, the Essex still showed plainly that she was a ship of war, but her threatening attitude was gone.  The war was over and all was quiet aboard.

That night the destroyer put into Dover harbor and the lads went ashore to report to Lord Hastings.  It was after ten o’clock, but their former commander received them at once in spite of the lateness of the hour.

“Sorry to disturb you at this hour, sir,” said Jack, “but I thought perhaps you would wish us to report to you immediately.”