CHAPTER XI

Cornered

"How about that notebook?" enquired Malcolm. The three chums were lounging in camp-chairs on the upper deck after their strenuous but interrupted "trick below". In consideration for their voluntary labours all men who had been in the stokehold were excused drills and parades for the rest of the day.

"Clean forgot all about it," replied Selwyn. "I left it in the pocket of my boiler suit. By this time I guess some other fellow is wearing the overalls. After all, the notebook may find its way to the rightful owner."

The three sat in silence for some minutes. Fortescue was puffing at his pipe, deep in thought; Selwyn was idly contemplating the unbroken expanse of horizon; while Malcolm devoted his attention to the examination of half a dozen large blisters on his hands. Already soldiering had hardened his hands considerably, but stoking, he decided, had proved to be far more strenuous than bayonet exercise, if an aching back, stiff muscles, and galls as big as half-crowns were any criterion.

Thus engaged, the chums hardly noticed the appearance of a corporal's guard--an N.C.O. and two privates with side-arms. Consequently they were surprised when the Corporal halted his men and asked abruptly:

"Are you Diggers the chaps what were doing stoking just now in No. 2 stokehold? You are? Well, you're bloomin' well under arrest."

"Under arrest--what for?" demanded Fortescue. For a moment he suspected a practical joke, but the fact that the men wore side-arms knocked that idea on the head.

"Dunno," replied the man shortly. "Fall in!"

Along the crowded troop deck the prisoners and their escort made their way, their presence occasioning little interest on the part of the spectators. Defaulters were common objects amongst the different Colonial troops who comprised the _Pomfret Castle's_ passengers.

Outside the large cabin known as the orderly-room were a dozen Australians, also under guard. Presently their numbers were augmented by five more. Every man of the coaling squad in No. 2 stokehold had been arrested.

"What's this rotten farce all about?" demanded Kennedy, appealing to the New Zealanders.

Malcolm shook his head. His own impression was that it had something to do with the discovery of the explosive in the bunker.

"Silence!" ordered a sergeant-major, who was now in charge of the batch of prisoners.

The door was thrown open, and the Anzacs with their escort paced into the orderly-room. At one end was a green-baize-covered table, at which were seated four "Tommy" officers--a major, two captains, and a lieutenant of a British line regiment. In front of them were sheets of foolscap, a book on military law, and a small object wrapped in brown paper.

"You men," began the Major without any preliminaries, "volunteered for work in No. 2 stoke-hold. Twenty all told, I see. Were there any other men of the party, or do you comprise the whole squad? Very well, then. Now I mean to find out who is the owner of this article. It was found in one of the boiler suits supplied to the squad; it was not there when the suits were issued, consequently the article in question must belong to one of you men. The owner of this will step forward two paces."

The Major, unwrapping the paper coverings, held up for inspection the notebook that Selwyn had picked up in his bunker.

"Is this your property?" demanded the Major as Selwyn stepped forward.

"No, sir."

"Then why the deuce----" exclaimed the officer, raising his voice. "Here, remove the other prisoners."

For twenty minutes the ejected men cooled their heels in the alley-way until again summoned to the orderly room.

"You are released from arrest," declared the Major curtly; then, as an afterthought, he added: "It would be advisable that you maintain discretion over the matter."

"What happened, old man?" enquired Fortescue, as the three New Zealanders gained a secluded part of the mess deck.

"The pocket-book contained a secret code," explained Selwyn. "It has been partly deciphered, and is proved to be a means of communication between someone on board the ship and the U-boats. I explained how I found it, and offered to produce you chaps as witnesses, but the Major was awfully decent about it. He means to find the owner, and if necessary is going to interrogate every man who went into that stokehold. Hallo, they've rounded up our immediate predecessors already."

As he spoke twenty Afrikanders, headed by the gigantic Jan van Eindhovengen, marched along the mess deck under escort.

"By Golly!" exclaimed Fortescue. "That's the man!"

"Who--the boxer?" enquired Selwyn.

"No, the last but one. Our pal in the Muizenberg train."

"So it is," agreed Malcolm. "Don't let him twig us."

The Diggers waited until the batch of suspects vanished.

"Ought we to report what we know concerning that chap?" asked Malcolm.

"And possibly get choked off if we do," objected Fortescue. "Let's wait and see what happens. If the fellow is bowled out, there's no need for us to butt in. He'll face a firing-party without our assistance. Taken for granted that he is a spy, what was his object in bamboozling us?"

"Give it up," replied Selwyn. "Getting three men to miss their proper transport wouldn't affect the progress of the war sufficiently to warrant his action."

"We told him a lot--more than we ought to have done," remarked Malcolm. "Of course we didn't know."

"And then I suppose," added Fortescue, "he thought we might report the matter, and so he switched us off on a branch line, so to speak. We'll let it go at that, but it wouldn't be a bad move to wait outside the orderly-room after those fellows have gone in and play the eavesdropper. If our Muizenberg pal is marched off under escort, then we needn't trouble further in the matter. If he gets off, then we'll tackle him and ask him for an explanation."

Acting upon this suggestion, the three chums made their way along the alley-way until they came to the orderly-room door. The Afrikanders were already within. Outside stood a "Tommy" sergeant as part of the escort.

"Want to go through the hoop again, you chaps?" enquired the N.C.O., with a grin.

"Not much--only curious," replied Fortescue, who had met the non-com. before on several occasions. "We'll _impshie_--hook it, you know--when they clear the court."

Listening, the three chums could hear the stern tones of the Major and the bass voice of the interpreter, for several of the South Africans spoke nothing but Taal--a dialect comprised largely of Dutch, with a sprinkling of Zulu and Kaffir words.

"That's our man," whispered Malcolm.

"The blighter's yapping in Dutch," announced Fortescue, "and he can speak English perfectly. Hallo!"

A torrent of words, plainly indicating indignant denials, wafted through the closed door. Several of the Afrikanders were speaking at once. A revolver-shot rang out, a sharp exclamation of pain, and then a tremendous scuffling.

"Come on, boys!" ordered the Sergeant, addressing the men of the escort waiting without.

The door was thrown open. The Tommies rushed in, while at their heels came Fortescue, Selwyn, and Carr. Their resolution to remain passive and unseen witnesses had vanished into thin air.

Within all was confusion. The Major lay with his head and shoulders resting upon the table. Two of the other officers were endeavouring to stanch the blood that flowed from his forehead. In one corner of the room a crowd of Afrikanders swayed in a compact mass, as if eager to wreak their vengeance on someone, while held like a rat in the jaws of a terrier was the man from Muizenberg, his captor being Jan van Eindhovengen.

"Give him to us, Jan!" shouted a dozen angry voices. "We know what to do with the rogue."

With difficulty the furious Afrikanders were calmed. The spy, his features pale with terror, was removed under a strong guard, while the wounded officer was carried to the sick quarters.

It was not until the afternoon that Oom Jan told Fortescue of what had occurred. Already strange rumours of varying degrees of accuracy had floated round the ship, but it was unanimously agreed that van Eindhovengen was the hero of the hour.

The spy had contrived to join the draft at Cape Town under the name of Pieter Waas. The real Pieter Waas happened to be a stranger to the rest of the Afrikanders, and, induced to desert by spy, had considerately transferred his name to his doubtful benefactor.

At the court of enquiry the pseudo Waas denied all knowledge of the pocket-book, although van Eindhovengen had seen the man with it in his possession without knowing its sinister import. It was not until it was explained to the Afrikanders that the ownerless book was a means by which they might be sent to the bottom of the sea by a hostile submarine that Oom Jan "rounded" on the spy. At first the fellow strenuously contradicted van Eindhovengen's accusation, but the big Afrikander would not be gainsaid. Suddenly the suspect whipped out a small automatic pistol. Whether it was with the intention of taking his own life or that of his accuser he himself only knew.

Like a flash van Eindhovengen's hand shot out. His powerful fingers gripped the spy's wrist as in a vice. As the pistol dropped from the fellow's limp hand the weapon went off, a bullet grazing the head of the president of the court of enquiry, and rendering him insensible.

"And now," concluded Oom Jan, "the spy is under lock and key. He is a slim _smous_ = rascal (Cape Dutch), but, Allemachte, it is all over with him. Presently, after he has set foot on dry land, a dozen bullets will bid him _Hambla gachle_. It is a too fitting end to a spy."

"But he hasn't been tried and sentenced yet," remarked Fortescue.

The Afrikander's face fell.

"Surely he is guilty," he said. "Why then waste time over him?"

"It is the Englishman's proud boast that every prisoner shall be given a fair trial," explained Fortescue. "It will be general court martial, no doubt. Thank goodness we New Zealanders are not mixed up in the business. By the by, Malcolm, have you any idea when we arrive at Plymouth? It seems to me that we've been dodging across the Atlantic half a dozen times."

"This is the twenty-eighth day of the voyage," observed Malcolm. "I heard that when the _Pomfret Castle_ was on the ordinary mail service she did the trip in fourteen as regular as clockwork."

"There's one thing, the boys will be snugly in camp by this time and waiting for us," added Selwyn. "We've missed the rotten 'shaking down' process. I wonder what sort of a show Codford is like?"

"You'll find out in due course," replied Fortescue grimly. "I've had some; enough of Salisbury Plain for me, thank you."

"We're not there yet," Malcolm reminded him.

Fortescue looked fixedly at the expanse of sea over which the twilight was spreading. Already the grey outline of the convoying cruiser was blending into invisibility against the gathering mantle of night.

"'That's so," he agreed solemnly.