A Lively Bit of the Front Part 10

"Periscope on the starboard bow!" shouted a stentorian voice.

Already the 4.7-inch guns were manned. The Maxims began hurling nickel at the rate of 450 shots a minute, with the idea of either disabling the periscope or churning up the water in its vicinity, in order to make it impossible for the U-boat to discharge a torpedo with any degree of accuracy. Simultaneously the helm was starboarded, and the _Pomfret Castle_ steered straight for the patch where the machine-gun bullets were ricochetting from the water.

The escorting cruiser, then two miles to wind'ard, also altered course, but, owing to the _Pomfret Castle_ being in her line of fire, could not take an active part in the proceedings.

The "Cease fire" sounded as the liner approached the spot where the periscope had been observed.

Some of the troops began to cheer at the thought that a U-boat had been sent to the bed of the Atlantic, but their jubilation was quickly nipped in the bud.

In the centre of the patch, and torn by machinegun fire almost to a state of unrecognizability, was a bird known as a diver. The _Pomfret Castle_ look-out had mistaken the unfortunate fowl for the periscope of a hostile submarine, at the cost of the bird's life and an extravagant waste of ammunition.

Although the three New Zealanders were keenly on the alert to renew the acquaintance with their supposed transport official, the man, if he were on board, had not come under their observation. At every available opportunity Malcolm and his chums were on deck when the South Africans paraded, but without satisfactory results.

"I am forced to come to the conclusion that you are the victim of an unaccountable hallucination, my lad," observed Fortescue to Malcolm, shortly after the diver incident. "I The fellow, if he is on board, couldn't lie doggo all this time. This morning I found an excuse to have a look round the sick quarters, and our Muizenberg pal isn't there."

"I am certain I spotted him when I first met Te Paheka on board,"

insisted Malcolm.

"Pardon me, laddie," said Fortescue firmly, "but you weren't at all sure about it at the time. An impression grows until you are certain of something that never occurred. I've known a fellow pitch an altogether impossible yarn before to-day. He also was aware of the fact, but in time he became firmly convinced that his statement was gospel truth."

That afternoon the course of the convoy was abruptly changed to due west again, in obedience to a signal from the escorting cruiser. It was quite a simple matter that resulted in the alteration of course.

The cruiser found that she was in the track of an unknown vessel that, although invisible, left a tell-tale track by throwing overboard ashes and other debris. A keen-witted _kapitan-leutnant_ of a U-boat would not fail to take advantage of these it "signs and portents", hence the advisability of giving the steamer's track a wide berth.

The vessels comprising the convoy were also cautioned when in the danger-zone to avoid "starting" ashes from the stokehold, and throwing garbage and refuse overboard, except at specified times, in order to baffle the hostile submarines' quest. Day and night a guard of riflemen stood to arms on deck, Maxims were ready for instant action, and the crews of the quick-firers slept at the guns. Hourly the game of U-boat dodging became more exciting.

The troops, however, were quite composed, beyond indulging in friendly bets as to their chances of arriving at Plymouth without being torpedoed. They ate heartily, and for the most part slept soundly.

"You were hard and fast in the land of dreams last night, Malcolm,"

remarked d.i.c.k Selwyn in the morning.

"Why do you mention the fact? I plead guilty to the indictment,"

rejoined his chum.

"There was a bit of a flutter in the night," explained Selwyn. "The cruiser reported that there was a light flas.h.i.+ng through one of the scuttles. Our skipper sent for the C.O., and he turned out the guard. Every part of the s.h.i.+p was visited, but without success, for the dead-lights were in position over every scuttle. Then, almost as soon as the rounds were over, the cruiser complained about the same thing again. Twice a corporal's guard was in here, and yet you slept through it all."

Selwyn had not erred on the side of exaggeration. On the contrary, he had not attached the fullest importance to the incident. Not only was a light showing from the _Pomfret Castle_; it was blinking, sending a message in Morse, although the signalman of the cruiser was unable to decipher the code.

"Boys," exclaimed Kennedy, "there's a call for volunteers for the stokeholds! How about it?"

"Firemen on strike?" enquired an Australian, as he tumbled out of a comfortable att.i.tude on a locker, and stretched his arms and gave a prodigious yawn.

"No, chum," replied Kennedy. "The convoy has to increase speed--we're about to cross the intensive zone--and the old tub requires a lot of whacking up."

"Then I'm on," said his questioner with alacrity.

Fortescue, Selwyn, and Carr were also amongst the volunteers, and after breakfast twenty men paraded in dungarees to take their "trick" below.

"Hanged if I'd like to do this for a living," remarked Malcolm, as the men gingerly made their way down the greasy and polished perpendicular ladder, one of many that gave access to No. 2 stokehold. "It's all right for the novelty of the thing. What with this pitching and rolling it reminds me of Point Elizabeth Colliery in an earthquake."

"If a blessed torpedo should----" began one of the Anzacs, but Kennedy promptly shut him up.

"Less chin-wag going; you'll want all your energy for elbow grease,"

he exclaimed. "Now then, chum, give the word and we'll do our best."

The last sentence was addressed to one of the regular hands, who, stripped to the waist like the rest of the _Pomfret Castle's_ firemen and greasers, was responsible for this particular stokehold.

"Just you wait till we've got shot of this crush," said the man, indicating a number of South Africans who had just completed their two-hours' voluntary task. "They've stuck it jolly well. If you chaps do as good we'll make the old boat hop it like billy-oh."

A crowd of Afrikanders, black with coal dust and running with perspiration, filed along the narrow pa.s.sage between the huge boilers. Amongst them was Jan van Eindhovengen, proud as a peac.o.c.k at having broken all records in shovelling coal from the bunkers.

When the twenty South Africans had left the stokehold the relieving gang was set to work. Malcolm's task was to remove coal from a cavernous recess, the fuel being handled by Fortescue and Selwyn, who had to transport it to one of the furnaces. At other bunkers a similar operation was performed by their comrades, the "trimmers"

being specially instructed to remove the coal in a methodical manner, so that there was slight possibility of the remaining contents being thrown out by the roll of the vessel. Others, armed with long-handled shovels, fed the capacious furnaces so frequently that the place reverberated to the clanging of the red-hot metal doors at the ends of the multi-tube boilers. At intervals the ash-hoists had to be supplied with still-smouldering embers, for so quickly did the heaps of ashes acc.u.mulate, that, unless removed constantly, they would seriously hamper the fireman at work in the already-congested s.p.a.ce.

Before Malcolm had been twenty minutes at his task he began to realize the necessity for careful removal of the lumps of coal. In spite of every precaution, ma.s.ses of black, s.h.i.+ny fuel would clatter down from the steadily-diminis.h.i.+ng heap. Since he was wearing a pair of canvas shoes and no socks, he had to display considerable agility in avoiding the miniature avalanches.

Presently he came to a tight "pack". The lumps were so closely wedged that the only way to attack the sloping wall of coal was by means of a long "fireman's rake".

Just as Malcolm was releasing the top tier, the vessel gave a heavier roll than usual, and a regular cataract of coal shot towards the mouth of the bunker. Back sprang the lad, crouching the while to prevent bringing his head in contact with a low girder. Even then he was too late. A huge lump, fully eighteen inches in diameter, trundled over his left foot and brought up against the sill of the bunker.

Fully expecting to find his foot crushed, Malcolm was agreeably surprised, and at the same time astonished, that nothing of the sort occurred. Beyond a few slight grazes, he was uninjured. Desisting from his labours, he regarded the ma.s.s of coal with studied interest.

"Buck up, laddie!" exclaimed Fortescue. "Keep the pot boiling! Don't go to sleep!"

Disregarding the admonition, Malcolm stooped and grasped the huge ma.s.s. He could lift it with the utmost ease. At the very outside it weighed less than five pounds.

"What do you make of this?" he bawled, tossing the lump to Fortescue. The latter, prepared to receive a weighty object, was quite as surprised as Carr had been.

"By gum," he remarked, "that's a mighty queer chunk of coal!"

"Found a nugget?" enquired Selwyn, glad of an opportunity of a respite.

"It's hollow, and it's been filled with water," continued Fortescue.

"The thing, whatever it is, is still leaking. Chuck it aside, and let's get on with the job. We'll examine it later."

"What's all this jawing about?" asked the leading hand. "Chauvin'

yer fat won't empty this 'ere bunker."

"I agree," rejoined Fortescue complaisantly. "But cast your optics on this, my festive shoveller."

"Ain't you seen a lump of coal afore?" demanded the man.

"Not like this one," said Fortescue. "Handle it."

The man took the proffered object; then, muttering an unintelligible e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.n, simply bolted with it to the nearest ladder.

"Hallo, here's another find!" exclaimed Selwyn. "This yours, Malcolm?"

He held up a small pocket-book, black with coal dust.