The instructions were promptly carried out as far as the transports were concerned, but from the _Ponto_ came a signal: "Am doing my maximum speed. Must drop astern if speed of convoy is not reduced."

"The blighter has got hold of the code all right," remarked Laxdale.

"We'll wait and see the fun. Wonder why we are whacking up speed?"

"The cruiser wants to get the transports out of harm's way, I should imagine," replied Wilmshurst. "By Jove, it's rummy how news spreads.

The whole mess is coming on deck."

The arrival of the colonel and almost all the other officers in various "fancy rig" proved the truth of Dudley's remark. Armed with field gla.s.ses, marine-gla.s.ses, and telescopes the officers gathered aft, dividing their attention between the labouring _Ponto_ and the greyhound _Tompion_.

In about an hour the tramp had dropped astern to the distance of a little over five miles, but was still maintaining a course parallel to that of the convoy, while the escorting cruiser was still zig-zagging across the bows of the leading transports.

Presently the _Tompion_ turned sharply to starboard, steering westward for quite two miles before she shaped a course exactly opposite to that of the convoy, signalling the while to the _Ponto_, asking various, almost commonplace questions regarding her speed and coal-consumption.

It was merely a ruse to lull suspicion. With every gun manned and torpedoes launched home the cruiser flung about until she was bows on to the stern of the tramp. Then came the decided mandate: "Heave-to and send a boat."

Unable to bring more than three guns to bear astern the Hun raider--for such the so-called _Ponto_ was--ported helm, her speed increasing rapidly. Almost at the same time a six-inch gun sent a sh.e.l.l perilously close to the weather side of the cruiser's fore-bridge.

Before the raider could fire a second time three sh.e.l.ls struck her close to the stern-post, literally pulverising the whole of the p.o.o.p.

The after six-inch gun, which had been concealed under a dummy deck-house, was blown from its mountings, the heavy weapon crashing through the shattered decks to the accompaniment of a shower of splinters and a dense pall of flame-tinged smoke.

It was more than the Huns bargained for. Knowing that the British cruiser was already aware of the presence of a number of prisoners on board the raider counted on the _Tompion_ withholding her fire. The _Ponto_ would then "crack on speed," for in spite of her alleged maximum of eleven knots she was capable of working up to twenty-eight, or a knot more than the speed of the cruiser under forced draught.

These hopes were nipped in the bud by the _Tompion_ blowing away the _Ponto's_ stern and putting both propellers out of action.

Of subsequent events immediately following the brief action Wilmshurst and his brother officers saw little. Their whole attention was directed towards their men, for the Haussas, on hearing the gun-fire, impetuously made a rush on deck--not by reason of panic but out of the deep curiosity that is ever to the fore in the minds of West African natives to a far greater extent than in the case of Europeans.

Next morning the _Ponto_ was nowhere to be seen. She had foundered within two hours of the engagement, while two hundred of her officers and crew were prisoners of war on board the _Tompion_, and a hundred and twenty British subjects, mostly the crews of vessels taken and sunk by the raider, found themselves once more under the banner of liberty--the White Ensign.

During the course of the day Wilmshurst heard the salient facts in connection with the raider's career. She was the Hamburg-Amerika intermediate liner _Porfurst_, who, after being armed and camouflaged, had contrived to escape the cordon of patrol-boats in the North Atlantic. For three months she had followed her piratical occupation, re-provisioning and re-coaling from the vessels she captured. Whenever her prisoners grew in number sufficiently to cause inconvenience the _Porfurst_ spared one of her prizes for the purpose of landing the captives in some remote port.

It was by a pure fluke that the raider ran almost blindly under the guns of the _Tompion_. Under the impression that the convoy consisted of unescorted merchantmen the _Porfurst_ steamed athwart their track, and slowing down to eleven or twelve knots, awaited the arrival of a likely prey.

Finding too late that the convoy was not so impotent as at first appearance the kapitan of the _Porfurst_ attempted a daring ruse. Upon being challenged by the cruiser he gave the vessel's name as _Ponto_, the real craft having been sunk by the raider only two days previously.

The Hun stood a chance of dropping astern and slipping away but for the furtive and timely warning signalled by a young apprentice, who, contriving to creep un.o.bserved into one of the boats, made good use of a small electric torch which he had managed to retain.

Enquiries of the released prisoners resulted in the information that they had been treated by their captors in a far better manner than the Huns generally deal with those unfortunate individuals who fall into their hands. The kapitan of the _Porfurst_ was no exception to the usual run of Germans. It was the possibility of capture--which had developed into a certainty--that had influenced him in his treatment of the crews of the sunk ships. Only the fear of just reprisals kept him within the bounds of civilized warfare, and having behaved in an ostentatiously proper manner towards the prisoners he received in return honourable treatment on board the _Tompion_.

When the convoy was within two days' sail of Table Bay another convoy was sighted steering north, while wireless orders were received for the _Tompion_ to escort the homeward bound ships and let the transports "carry on" under the protection of two destroyers sent from Simon's Town.

Upon receipt of these orders the captain of the cruiser signalled the _Zungeru_, asking her to receive on board the released crews of the sunk ships and to land them at Table Bay. Although wondering why the men should be set ash.o.r.e at the Cape instead of being taken back to England the master of the transport offered no objection, and preparations were made to tranship the ex-prisoners.

Knowing several officers of the mercantile marine, Wilmshurst strolled into the _Zungeru's_ ship's office and asked the purser's clerk to let him have a look at the list of supernumeraries. There was a chance that some of his acquaintances might be amongst the released prisoners now on board the transport.

As far as the officers' names were concerned Dudley "drew blank." He was on the point of handing the type-written list back to the purser's clerk when he noticed a few names written in red ink--three civilians who had been taking pa.s.sages in ships that had fallen victims to the raider _Porfurst_.

"MacGregor--Robert; of Umfuli, Rhodesia--that's remarkable," thought Wilmshurst. "That's the name of Rupert's chum. Wonder if it's the same man? There may be dozens of MacGregors in Rhodesia; I'll see if I can get in touch with this MacGregor."

That same afternoon the Rhodesian was pointed out to Dudley by the third mate as he strolled into the smoking-room.

Robert MacGregor was a man of about thirty-eight or forty, tall, raw-boned and with curling hair that had a decided auburn hue. In the absence of any description of Rupert's chum, Dudley had no idea of what he was like, and until he approached this MacGregor his curiosity was not likely to be satisfied.

"Excuse me," began Wilmshurst. "I believe your name is Robert MacGregor?"

The Rhodesian, without showing any surprise at the subaltern's question, merely nodded. A man who has lived practically alone for years in the wilds is not usually ready with his tongue.

"Did you ever run across a man called Wilmshurst--Rupert Wilmshurst?"

continued Dudley. "He's my brother, you know," he added by way of explanation.

"Yes," replied MacGregor slowly. "He was a chum of mine."

CHAPTER IV

SPOFFORTH, MACGREGOR, AND THE LIONESS

Robert MacGregor pulled a pipe from his pocket and leisurely filled it with Boer tobacco. His slow, deliberate way contrasted forcibly with Wilmshurst's quick, incisive manner; his slow dialect would have irritated the subaltern beyond measure but for the fact that he guessed the Rhodesian to be of Scots descent.

Dudley noticed particularly that MacGregor had referred to his brother in the past tense. It sounded ominous.

"Was a chum?" he repeated with an accent on the first word.

"In a sense, yes," replied MacGregor. "We went for a couple of trips into German East. The last time was just before the war. You know why we went?"

"It was in connection with a hidden store of ammunition, I believe,"

replied Wilmshurst.

The Rhodesian nodded slowly, puffing steadily at his pipe.

"Rupert found a mare's nest, I fancy," he continued. "At any rate, before we made any really important discoveries I had to go back to Jo'burg. Had no option, so to speak. Then, in connection with the same business, I penetrated into German South-West Africa. I was in Bersheba for nearly a fortnight before I heard that war had broken out, and the first intimation I had was being put under arrest and sent up country to Windhoek.

"When Botha overrun the colony I was released and offered a sound job at Walfisch Bay--fairly important Government appointment in connection with the distilling plant. That completed I thought I'd trek back to Rhodesia and do a bit in German East. Thinking I would do the trip round quicker by sea I took pa.s.sage on the _Ibex_, a tramp of about two thousand tons, and within twelve hours of leaving Walfisch Bay the boat was captured by the _Porfurst_."

"I hope I'm not tiring you with too many questions," said Wilmshurst after he had made several enquiries respecting his brother. The answers received were far from satisfactory, for MacGregor seemed to make a point of "switching off" the subject of Rupert Wilmshurst and dwelling at length on his own adventures.

"Not at all," replied the Rhodesian. "As regards your brother you may get in touch with him, but German East is a whacking big country. Are you part of a brigade?" he asked.

"We're just the 'Waffs,'" replied Dudley. "The West African Field Force, you know. As regards numbers or our scene of action I haven't the remotest idea at present. I don't believe that even the colonel knows."

"At any rate," continued MacGregor, "I think I'll see your colonel and get him to let me proceed in the _Zungeru_. It doesn't very much matter whether I join the Rhodesian contingent, although I'd prefer to, or get attached to one of the Boer detachments, or even your crush, if they'd have me. I don't want to brag, Mr. Wilmshurst, but I'd be mighty useful, knowing the country as I do."

MacGregor's application met with favourable consideration, although he did not tell Wilmshurst the result of the interview with the colonel until the transports dropped anchor in Table Bay and the rest of the released men went ash.o.r.e.

Bad weather off Cape Agulhas made the rounding of the southernmost part of Africa a disagreeable business, but in ideal climatic conditions the convoy, with two destroyers still on escort duties, approached Cape Delgado, beyond which the territory of German East commences.

The short tropical dusk was deepening into night when two tramp steamers were sighted, bearing N.N.E. In obedience to a signal from one of the destroyers they revealed themselves as two Dutch trading ships bound from Batavia to Rotterdam, but driven out of their course by a succession of gales at the commencement of the south-west monsoon.

Commanded to heave-to both vessels were boarded by examination officers from the destroyer, but their papers being quite in order and nothing of a suspicious nature discovered amongst the cargo they were allowed to proceed.