A Lively Bit of the Front Part 6

Panjie's cage, carried by half a dozen l.u.s.ty blue-jackets, was deposited in close proximity to the only opening left in the extensive corral. Not since the eventful day when the _Gosport's_ barbers close-clipped Bingo, the monkey, had such interest been shown in any unofficial incident. Bingo was Panjie's predecessor, a large Madagascar ape. Curiosity concerning a barrel of coal-tar led to Bingo's undoing. Cropping, and afterwards washing the animal with grease and paraffin, were the only remedies, and but temporary; for, shorn of its warm fur, the monkey caught pneumonia and succ.u.mbed.

Heralded by the chief keeper, a corporal of Red Marines, the kangaroo leapt lightly into the arena in an att.i.tude reminiscent of a light-weight boxer. It was a half-grown animal of about four feet six inches in height. Apparently indifferent to the grant of limited freedom, it ambled to a recess formed by the side of the casemate and the raised coaming of a closed ammunition-hoist.

"Put a pair of boxing-gloves on him, Paddy," shouted one of the Corporal's shipmates. "Take him on for half a dozen rounds under the Marquis of Queensberry's rules."

"Enter him for the high jump," vociferated another.

"Take 'im on 'catch as catch can'," suggested a third.

To all these suggestions the marine turned a deaf ear. He had his own idea of the correct method of exercising the animal and at the same time contributing to his comrades' enjoyment.

"Now then, you concertina boys, give us a two-step," he called out.

"Come on, my lady, let's see if I can span your slender waist."

Either the kangaroo objected to the marine's mistake in the matter of gender or else he was disinclined to be forced to perform, for, as the Corporal grasped the animal's short fore paws, Panjie let rip with one of his powerful hind legs. The kangaroo might have been off his feed, but his muscular powers seemed in no way impaired. The sharp claws, missing the man's face by a mere inch, sliced his forage jacket and trousers from shoulder to knee.

At the possibility of a sc.r.a.p the ship's company cheered, some yelling encouragement to the kangaroo, others backing the representative of His Majesty's jollies.

The outburst of sound terrified the animal. With a stupendous bound Panjie leapt at the netting, ripping his way through as easily as a pantomime clown jumps through a paper hoop. Over the heads and shoulders of a tightly-packed throng of bluejackets the brute vaulted; then, viewing a comparatively clear s.p.a.ce, it bounded towards the sacred precincts of the quarter-deck.

Here the Fleet-paymaster and the Engineer-commander, who were keeping aloof from the revels, were engaged in a strictly official conversation. Like a dart Panjie dived betwixt the bowed legs of the accountant officer, and, in blind desperation, b.u.t.ted the senior officer of the engineering branch full in the chest. Then with a terrific leap the kangaroo cleared the rail and disappeared overboard.

There was a rush to the side. Some of the men hastened to man the sea-boat, but the upheld hand of the Commander indicated that they were to "stand fast".

The sea was like gla.s.s. The usual Pacific roll was entirely absent.

A quarter of a mile on the starboard quarter the _Awarua_ was resolutely plugging along at 10 knots.

Bobbing in the wake of the cruiser was a darkbrown object. It was Panjie. The animal had escaped the suction of the propellers, but the fall from a vessel pelting along at 20 knots had evidently stunned it. At all events it made no effort to swim.

No order was given for the _Gosport_ to reverse engines or even to slow down. She merely "carried on" describing a vast circle round the slow-moving Transport 99.

"By Jove, sir!" exclaimed the Commander, addressing the Captain.

"The _Awarua's_ starboarding helm."

"She is," admitted the Skipper grimly. "We've played into her hands this time, I fancy."

The "owner's" surmise was correct. Lining the side of the transport were hundreds of troops. Some of them, and several of the _Awarua's_ crew, had provided themselves with running bowlines, and as the unfortunate Panjie drifted close to the ship he was saluted with a shower of la.s.sos.

"They've hooked him, sir!" reported the Commander as the kangaroo's limp body, firmly encircled with three or four bowlines, was unceremoniously hauled on board the transport.

"By the powers they have," agreed the Skipper bitterly, and straightway he left the bridge and went below.

Five minutes later the _Awarua's_ semaph.o.r.e began working rapidly.

On the _Gosport's_ bridge a barefooted signalman wrote down the message on a pad. He was unable to conceal a broad grin as he handed the signal to the Commander.

No need for the latter to read the writing. He, in common with nearly all the officers and crew, had read the semaph.o.r.e verbatim.

With the utmost temerity the skipper of the _Awarua_ had sent the following report:--

"One of your crew has been picked up by Transport 99. In view of the heavy sea now running" (_it was a flat calm a regular "Paddy's hurricane"_) "I propose retaining the said member, in order to avoid a repet.i.tion of the accident. Do you concur?"

The message was sent to the captain of the cruiser. Sportsmanlike the skipper accepted the sarcastic signal with a good grace.

Back came the answer: "Now we are quits! Congratulations!"

CHAPTER VIII

Left Behind

Seven days behind scheduled time the _Awarua_ crawled into Port Stanley harbour. Here Sergeant Malcolm Carr and Rifleman Macready were received in exchange for Panjie, who, thanks to the store of fodder on board the transport, had been fed into a state of adiposity.

Meanwhile a reserve transport had been sent across from Simon's Bay, and orders were given to tranship the troops, stores, and baggage from No. 99 to No. 109. Within three days the task was accomplished, and, five other troopships having arrived from Australia, the convoy left for Table Bay, still under the care of H.M.S. _Gosport_.

Although the transports were still a considerable distance from the U-boat danger zone, every revolution of their propellers was bringing them nearer to that part of the South Atlantic where vessels had been known-to have been destroyed by mines.

On the evening of the third day Malcolm had to accompany Lieutenant Nicholson on the rounds. After visiting the various mess decks the upper deck had to be inspected. It was a pitch-dark night. The stars were obscured. Beyond the long undulations the sea was calm.

Transport 109, otherwise the S.S. _Pintail_, was leading vessel of the starboard column, the formation being that known as "double column ahead". The _Gosport_ was two miles distant on the starboard bow, her position indicated solely by a feeble stern lantern. The vessels forming the convoy were steaming with all navigation-lamps screened, keeping station merely by means of the phosph.o.r.escent wake of the vessel next ahead.

"Hallo, what's the move?" exclaimed Mr. Nicholson as the six transports altered helm, swung round until they formed double column line abreast. "We're at right angles to our former course. What's the _Gosport_ doing?"

The Lieutenant walked to the rail. Malcolm and the rest of the party halted and watched a masthead signalling-lamp that was blinking rapidly on the cruiser.

Suddenly the beams of two powerful search-lights from the _Gosport's_ bridge pierced the darkness. The giant rays were directed full upon the hull of a large vessel steaming about five cable-lengths from, and on a parallel course to, that of the cruiser.

The stranger had been showing no steaminglights. She was a two-masted, double-funnelled craft of about four thousand tons. On her side, clearly shown up in the rays of the search-light, were painted the Dutch national colours, and the words _Waeszyl_, Holland in letters six feet in height.

Again the _Gosport's_ flashing-lamp began signalling; but while the message, whatever it might mean, was still in progress, two tongues of flame leapt from the cruiser's side, and the simultaneous roar of a double report crashed through the night.

An instant later a stupendous blaze of light, followed by a detonation the volume of which completely drowned all other sounds, dazzled the eyes and burst upon the ears of the spectators. A pall of black smoke, tinted silvery in the rays of the search-lights, marked the spot where the so-called _Waeszyl_ had been. For some seconds objects of varying sizes, hurled high in the air, dropped into the sea, some of them in perilous proximity to the convoy.

After that--silence.

From the troop-decks of the transports crowds of men poured through the hatchways. It was an impossible task to try to keep the New Zealanders below. They simply had to see what there was to be seen; which, according to the general verdict, was precious little.

Presently boats were lowered from the cruiser, and a search was made over and around the spot where the mysterious vessel had disappeared. In less than half an hour the boats returned, the searchlights were switched off, and the cruiser and her charges resumed their interrupted course.

There was very little sleep that night for the men of the Thirty-somethingth reinforcements. The men sat up discussing the appalling incident, and forming ingenious theories as to the cause of the _Gosport's_ speedy destruction of the supposed Dutchman. They had reckoned on entering the danger zone when they came within the normal radius of action of hostile U-boats. Already they had practical proof that at almost every knot of the twelve-thousand-miles voyage they were open to attack--Providence and the armed unit of Britain's fleet permitting.

Just before noon on the following day the _Pintail_ pa.s.sed close to a water-logged ship's boat. Kept under observation by means of telescopes and binoculars, the derelict told its own tale. There were evidences that it had been hastily lowered. A gaping hole on one side and a shattered gun-wale on the other, together with traces of fire, showed that the boat had been sh.e.l.led. There were distinct signs that the perpetrators of the outrage had sought to obliterate all traces of their dastardly work: the name of the ship had been sc.r.a.ped off the boat's bows, her air-tight tanks had been stove in, yet in spite of this precaution the boat still remained awash. For once, at least, the policy of _Spurlos versenkt_ had failed.

Cold-blooded murder had undoubtedly been committed on the high seas.

The _Gosport_ was not in time to prevent this particular crime--but she had avenged it.

Slowly, but no less surely, the details of the previous night's engagement leaked out. It had not been, as Malcolm had surmised, a one-sided engagement. A commerce-raider and mine-layer disguised as a Dutch cargo boat had sighted the _Gosport_, and, mistaking her in the darkness for a merchantman, turned and shaped a parallel course to that of the cruiser.

Detected by the war-ship's look-out, the suspicious vessel was promptly challenged by flashing signals. The raider's reply was a grim one. A torpedo fired from a submerged tube tore towards the _Gosport_, pa.s.sing within a few feet of her stern. The phosph.o.r.escent swirl of the under-water missile told its own tale.