A Lively Bit of the Front Part 7

The cruiser put two sh.e.l.ls into the raider's quarter, in the hope that her steering-gear would be blown away and the vessel rendered unmanageable. Unfortunately for Hans, one of the projectiles burst in a compartment where a number of mines were stored--result, utter and swift annihilation!

As the transport approached the Cape, justifiable anxiety consumed those responsible for the navigation of the convoy. The _Pintail's_ skipper never left the bridge for thirty-six hours. Two merchant-men had recently been sunk by mines in these waters. Although the vessel that had laid these sinister instruments of death and destruction had been destroyed, the results of her previous activities remained.

At last the convoy dropped anchor in Table Bay. The second stage of the long sea voyage was accomplished. The _Gosport_ coaled and left for the Pacific, Until it was definitely established that German raiders no longer infested the route between Wellington and the Horn the presence of a few light cruisers was necessary, otherwise armed merchant-cruisers could effectually perform convoying duties, and release the "pukka" warships for other duties in home waters.

"Now I think of it," remarked d.i.c.k Selwyn, "I have a second cousin living at Muizenberg; I'll look him up. There's leave till six o'clock. Coming?"

"Looking up" even distant relations is a characteristic of the New Zealander. Wounded Anzacs, on receiving the ten-days' leave in England before rejoining their units, frequently make railway journeys running into hundreds of miles simply for the Purpose of "looking up" a remote blood relation in the Old Country, In Selwyn's case his relation lived at a small town on the sh.o.r.es of False Bay, a distance of about twenty miles from Cape Town.

"I'm on," replied Malcolm. "It will give us a chance of seeing something of South Africa. How about Fortescue?"

Sergeant Fortescue, when appealed to, promptly decided to accompany them; and as soon as leave was granted the three non-coms. hurried ash.o.r.e.

The railway journey accomplished, Selwyn made the disappointing discovery that his cousin no longer lived at Muizenberg. He had moved to a farm near Slang Kop, a distance of about five miles across the peninsula that terminates in the world-renowned Cape of Good Hope.

"Game to foot it, you chaps?" asked Selwyn. "I don't like to be done."

The others agreed without enthusiasm, although loyalty to their chum left no plausible alternative; so at a steady pace they set out along an upland track that led to the farm.

Selwyn's cousin "did his visitors right down properly", to quote Malcolm's description of the reception. So much so that before either of the three realized the fact it was a question of whether they could return to Muizenberg station in time for the train. A springless Cape cart drove them at the maximum pace obtainable by the wiry horse and the vociferous exhortations of the native "boy".

In spite of every effort the trio reached the outskirts of Muizenberg just in time to see the train steam out of the station.

Since Muizenberg is a popular seaside resort for the business folk at Cape Town, there is a fairly frequent train service. Enquiries of the railway officials elicited the information that a train would leave at 7.15 p.m.

Malcolm and his companions accepted the situation calmly. Mutual recriminations were absent, although they knew that it was a serious matter to overstay sh.o.r.e leave.

"It isn't as if the transport were lying alongside a wharf,"

remarked Selwyn. "Our best chance is to hire a boat and trust to luck to get on board without being observed by the officers. The corporal on the gangway wouldn't give the show away."

"The main point is to get on board," said Fortescue. "If there is an enquiry we must simply state plain facts and face the music. There's an officer's boat at nine-thirty."

"I'm afraid there isn't," corrected Malcolm. "I saw the announcement cancelled on the notice-board outside the orderly room."

"By gum, that looks fishy!" exclaimed Fortescue. "Supposing the _Pintail_ sails to-night. That yarn about the convoy getting under way on Thursday night may be a blind. They say Cape Town swarms with pro-Germans."

When at length the train crawled out of Muizenberg station the three "Diggers" (as New Zealand infantrymen are commonly dubbed amongst themselves) had for company a sympathetic fellow-pa.s.senger, who on hearing of their plight was quick to suggest a plan.

"I know your boat," he remarked. "No. 109 is lying nearest in-sh.o.r.e off Woodstock--that's a suburb of Cape Town, you know. I'm a transport officer, so I know a bit about it. Hop off the train at Woodstock and enquire for Van Hoek's boathouse. It's at the mouth of Salt River. Old Van will row you off for a matter of ten shillings."

The pa.s.senger seemed of a very communicative disposition. He evinced considerable interest in various incidents of the New Zealanders'

voyage. Without much questioning he led the three Anzacs to give a fairly detailed account of what had happened.

"It's all news to me," he remarked. "Even in the Transport Office we hear but very little. Of course the heads know a lot, but the minor officials, such as myself, are not taken into their confidence."

The train slowing down as it approached Woodstock station terminated the conversation. With many thanks for the information, Malcolm and his chums left the carriage, and, in giving up their tickets, enquired of the Dutch ticket-collector the way to Van Hoek's establishment.

The official had never heard of the place; nor had three or four others to whom the enquiry was put.

"At any rate," said Fortescue in desperation, "I suppose there is such a show as Salt River?"

"Oh yes, we know where that is," was the chorused reply.

Declining offers to be shown the way, the three chums set out, and presently arrived at the low sh.o.r.e of the estuary. The opposite bank was invisible, as at the spot the mud-flats were covered at high tide. To all appearance it was open water right out to Table Bay.

The sh.o.r.e was deserted. The few buildings were evidently untenanted.

On the beach half a dozen boats were hauled up above high-water mark. Farther out were others riding easily to moorings.

The night was calm. The brilliant starlight made it an easy matter to discern the double line of transports.

"By Jove," e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Fortescue, "they're raising steam! They are sailing to-night after all!"

"No good cooling our heels here," said Selwyn. "Let's borrow a boat, since we can't find an owner. The wind's dead on sh.o.r.e, what there is of it; we can cast her adrift after we get on board."

"And put five shillings on one of the thwarts," added Malcolm. "The fellow who finds it will be repaid for his trouble."

Of the six boats all were without gear save one. In vain they attempted to launch it down the beach; their united efforts were unavailing. Nor was Fortescue's suggestion to transfer the gear to a lighter craft productive of better results.

"These boats are as heavy as lead," declared Malcolm, wiping his heated brow. "I believe they're bolted and riveted to the ground.

How about it? Suppose we swim out to the nearest of those boats?"

This proposition was adopted. The three men stripped, secured their clothing on top of their heads by means of their belts, and, two of them taking an oar in case the moored craft was dest.i.tute If means of propulsion, they slipped boldly into the water.

Malcolm was the first to reach the moored boat. Holding on to the gunwale with one hand, he unbuckled his bundle and tossed it into the boat; then, clambering over the stern, proceeded to dress while his companions "got aboard". There were oars already, as well as mast, sails, and other gear.

On the strength of having stroked his college boat Fortescue took command. Under his directions the rudder was shipped, and an attempt made to raise the anchor. The three men heaving together very nearly put the boat's bows under, but the refractory mooring refused to come home. Did they but know it, they were vainly trying to raise an iron chain attached to a ma.s.s of stone weighing nearly half a ton.

"We're going the wrong way about the trick," declared Selwyn. "See that rope with a chunk of wood on the end of it? That's fastened to the chain, so if we chuck the lot overboard we'll be able to make a start."

The mooring dropped with a resounding splash. Fortescue and Malcolm manned the oars and gave way with a will.

"Jolly hard graft," muttered Malcolm breathlessly after a quarter of an hour's strenuous work. "Do you think we're getting any nearer? I don't."

Fortescue glanced over his shoulder.

"No, I don't," he admitted bluntly. "What's more, the transports are 'on the move. That's put the kybosh on the whole contraption."

CHAPTER IX

In the Ring

For a full minute silence reigned. The chums had light-heartedly discussed the possibility of the convoy sailing; but now, when the supposition merged into hard fact, they could hardly realize the gravity of the situation.

Mitigating circ.u.mstances or otherwise, reduced to rock-bottom level, the three non-coms, had overstayed their leave, and were actually deserters, from a military point of view. It was just possible that they might be sent back under arrest to New Zealand. The thought that they would be done Out of "having a slap at Fritz" almost stunned them.

"Let's get back," said Fortescue, as the grey-hulled vessels grew more and more indistinct in the starlit night. "We'll make for the transport office and report ourselves. If we hadn't taken that fellow's advice and wasted precious time looking for Van what's-his-name we might have caught the tender."