CHAPTER X
Volunteers for the Stokehold
Day after day passed, and although the _Pomfret Castle_ was peltingalong at full speed there were no signs of the convoy of which the_Pintail_ formed part. If the liner were in wireless touch with thetransports the fact was never communicated to the troops on board.As far as they were concerned the South Atlantic was a desert, fornot another vessel had been sighted since leaving Cape Town.
At Sierra Leone the _Pomfret Castle_ found two more liners awaitingher. Having coaled, the three vessels, under the escort of a lightcruiser, left for Plymouth.
The troops were now approaching the U-boat danger-zone. For fourdays a course due west was maintained, until the vessels ported helmand Stood north, it being the rule that no two convoys should shapethe same course through the North Atlantic.
"You've been torpedoed already, have you?" enquired an Australian,addressing Jack Kennedy. "What did you do?"
"Do?" replied the Queenslander, with a laugh. "Why, simply put on mylife-belt and made tracks for the boat. We only had ten minutesbefore the old hooker sank. The boys had a high old time. Theyactually put the ship up for auction as she was foundering. It was acalm----"
"Periscope on the starboard bow!" shouted a stentorian voice.
Already the 4.7-inch guns were manned. The Maxims began hurlingnickel at the rate of 450 shots a minute, with the idea of eitherdisabling the periscope or churning up the water in its vicinity, inorder to make it impossible for the U-boat to discharge a torpedowith any degree of accuracy. Simultaneously the helm wasstarboarded, and the _Pomfret Castle_ steered straight for the patchwhere the machine-gun bullets were ricochetting from the water.
The escorting cruiser, then two miles to wind'ard, also alteredcourse, but, owing to the _Pomfret Castle_ being in her line offire, could not take an active part in the proceedings.
The "Cease fire" sounded as the liner approached the spot where theperiscope had been observed.
Some of the troops began to cheer at the thought that a U-boat hadbeen sent to the bed of the Atlantic, but their jubilation wasquickly nipped in the bud.
In the centre of the patch, and torn by machinegun fire almost to astate of unrecognizability, was a bird known as a diver. The_Pomfret Castle_ look-out had mistaken the unfortunate fowl for theperiscope of a hostile submarine, at the cost of the bird's life andan extravagant waste of ammunition.
Although the three New Zealanders were keenly on the alert to renewthe acquaintance with their supposed transport official, the man, ifhe were on board, had not come under their observation. At everyavailable opportunity Malcolm and his chums were on deck when theSouth Africans paraded, but without satisfactory results.
"I am forced to come to the conclusion that you are the victim of anunaccountable 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 tohave a look round the sick quarters, and our Muizenberg pal isn'tthere."
"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 allsure about it at the time. An impression grows until you are certainof something that never occurred. I've known a fellow pitch analtogether impossible yarn before to-day. He also was aware of thefact, but in time he became firmly convinced that his statement wasgospel truth."
That afternoon the course of the convoy was abruptly changed to duewest again, in obedience to a signal from the escorting cruiser. Itwas quite a simple matter that resulted in the alteration of course.The cruiser found that she was in the track of an unknown vesselthat, although invisible, left a tell-tale track by throwingoverboard ashes and other debris. A keen-witted _kapitan-leutnant_of a U-boat would not fail to take advantage of these it "signs andportents", hence the advisability of giving the steamer's track awide berth.
The vessels comprising the convoy were also cautioned when in thedanger-zone to avoid "starting" ashes from the stokehold, andthrowing garbage and refuse overboard, except at specified times, inorder to baffle the hostile submarines' quest. Day and night a guardof riflemen stood to arms on deck, Maxims were ready for instantaction, and the crews of the quick-firers slept at the guns. Hourlythe game of U-boat dodging became more exciting.
The troops, however, were quite composed, beyond indulging infriendly bets as to their chances of arriving at Plymouth withoutbeing torpedoed. They ate heartily, and for the most part sleptsoundly.
"You were hard and fast in the land of dreams last night, Malcolm,"remarked Dick 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. "Thecruiser reported that there was a light flashing through one of thescuttles. Our skipper sent for the C.O., and he turned out theguard. Every part of the ship was visited, but without success, forthe dead-lights were in position over every scuttle. Then, almost assoon as the rounds were over, the cruiser complained about the samething again. Twice a corporal's guard was in here, and yet you sleptthrough 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 onlywas a light showing from the _Pomfret Castle_; it was blinking,sending a message in Morse, although the signalman of the cruiserwas unable to decipher the code.
"Boys," exclaimed Kennedy, "there's a call for volunteers for thestokeholds! How about it?"
"Firemen on strike?" enquired an Australian, as he tumbled out of acomfortable attitude on a locker, and stretched his arms and gave aprodigious yawn.
"No, chum," replied Kennedy. "The convoy has to increasespeed--we're about to cross the intensive zone--and the old tubrequires a lot of whacking up."
"Then I'm on," said his questioner with alacrity.
Fortescue, Selwyn, and Carr were also amongst the volunteers, andafter breakfast twenty men paraded in dungarees to take their"trick" below.
"Hanged if I'd like to do this for a living," remarked Malcolm, asthe men gingerly made their way down the greasy and polishedperpendicular ladder, one of many that gave access to No. 2stokehold. "It's all right for the novelty of the thing. What withthis pitching and rolling it reminds me of Point Elizabeth Collieryin an earthquake."
"If a blessed torpedo should----" began one of the Anzacs, butKennedy 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 theirtwo-hours' voluntary task. "They've stuck it jolly well. If youchaps do as good we'll make the old boat hop it like billy-oh."
A crowd of Afrikanders, black with coal dust and running withperspiration, filed along the narrow passage between the hugeboilers. Amongst them was Jan van Eindhovengen, proud as a peacockat having broken all records in shovelling coal from the bunkers.
When the twenty South Africans had left the stokehold the relievinggang was set to work. Malcolm's task was to remove coal from acavernous recess, the fuel being handled by Fortescue and Selwyn,who had to transport it to one of the furnaces. At other bunkers asimilar operation was performed by their comrades, the "trimmers"being specially instructed to remove the coal in a methodicalmanner, so that there was slight possibility of the remainingcontents being thrown out by the roll of the vessel. Others, armedwith long-handled shovels, fed the capacious furnaces so frequentlythat the place reverberated to the clanging of the red-hot metaldoors at the ends of the multi-tube boilers. At intervals theash-hoists had to be supplied with still-smouldering embers,
for soquickly did the heaps of ashes accumulate, that, unless removedconstantly, they would seriously hamper the fireman at work in thealready-congested space.
Before Malcolm had been twenty minutes at his task he began torealize the necessity for careful removal of the lumps of coal. Inspite of every precaution, masses of black, shiny fuel would clatterdown from the steadily-diminishing heap. Since he was wearing a pairof canvas shoes and no socks, he had to display considerable agilityin avoiding the miniature avalanches.
Presently he came to a tight "pack". The lumps were so closelywedged that the only way to attack the sloping wall of coal was bymeans of a long "fireman's rake".
Just as Malcolm was releasing the top tier, the vessel gave aheavier roll than usual, and a regular cataract of coal shot towardsthe mouth of the bunker. Back sprang the lad, crouching the while toprevent bringing his head in contact with a low girder. Even then hewas too late. A huge lump, fully eighteen inches in diameter,trundled over his left foot and brought up against the sill of thebunker.
Fully expecting to find his foot crushed, Malcolm was agreeablysurprised, and at the same time astonished, that nothing of the sortoccurred. Beyond a few slight grazes, he was uninjured. Desistingfrom his labours, he regarded the mass of coal with studiedinterest.
"Buck up, laddie!" exclaimed Fortescue. "Keep the pot boiling! Don'tgo to sleep!"
Disregarding the admonition, Malcolm stooped and grasped the hugemass. He could lift it with the utmost ease. At the very outside itweighed less than five pounds.
"What do you make of this?" he bawled, tossing the lump toFortescue. The latter, prepared to receive a weighty object, wasquite 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 arespite.
"It's hollow, and it's been filled with water," continued Fortescue."The thing, whatever it is, is still leaking. Chuck it aside, andlet'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 opticson 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 unintelligibleejaculation, 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.
"Not mine," replied Carr. "Must have belonged to one of thosefellows we relieved."
"Possibly," agreed Selwyn, throwing the book into the pocket of hisoveralls. "We'll soon find out if it is."
The interrupted task was resumed, but in less than ten minutes theleading hand returned, accompanied by three of the regular firemen.
"You three," he announced, indicating Carr and his chums, "are toknock off and report to the Quartermaster."
Going on deck they duly reported themselves, and were conducted to acabin on the lower bridge, their protests about having to appear ina coal-grimed state being ignored.
Within were the Captain and the Chief Engineer of the ship, while intwo pieces on the table lay the lump of "coal".
"Which of you found this?" enquired the "Old Man" brusquely,indicating Malcolm's find.
"I did, sir," replied the lad. "I It rolled on my foot, and, findingit was remarkably light, I examined it."
"A thundering good job you did," rejoined the Captain. "Look here,this is in confidence--you must not mention the affair toanyone--had that thing been thrown into the furnace, the chances arethat the ship would have been blown up. No. 7 bunker---- Let me see,Jephson," he continued, addressing the engineer; "that wasreplenished at Sierra Leone, wasn't it?"
The officer addressed consulted a memorandum.
"No, sir," he replied; "7 and 8 of No. 2 stoke-hold were bunkered atCape Town. They hadn't been touched when we arrived at SierraLeone."
The infernal machine--for such it was--was aningeniously-constructed piece of work. The hollow shell ofpapier-mache was made to resemble a lump of coal. Within was a slabof wet gun-cotton, while to make up the deficiency of weight thehollow was filled with water. Fortunately the bomb must have beencracked in contact with lumps of genuine coal, for the water hadescaped. The contrivance would have been thrown into the furnace,with disastrous results; but Malcolm's astuteness had saved thesituation.
"Mind, not a word!" cautioned the Skipper again as the three NewZealanders were dismissed. "In due course your conduct will bereported to the proper authorities, and no doubt you will hearfavourably on the matter."
A Lively Bit of the Front: A Tale of the New Zealand Rifles on the Western Front Page 10
