THE RAIDER
Accompanied by five other transports and escorted by the light cruiser
_Tompion_, the _Zungeru_ ploughed her way at a modest fifteen knots
through the tropical waters of the Atlantic. Although there was little
to fear from the attacks of U-boats, for up to the present these craft
had not appeared south of the Equator, mines had been laid by disguised
German ships right in the area where numerous trade routes converge in
the neighbourhood of the Cape of Good Hope, while there were rumours,
hitherto unconfirmed, that an armed raider was at large in the South
Atlantic.
Provided the convoy kept together there was little danger in daytime in
that direction, but the possibilities of the raider making a sudden
dash during the hours of darkness and using gun and torpedo with
disastrous results could not be overlooked.
The issue of lifebelts to the native troops puzzled them greatly. They
could not understand the precaution, for they were ignorant of the
danger of making voyages in war-time. Their faith in the "big canoes"
of King George was so firm that, sea-sickness notwithstanding, they had
no doubts or fears concerning their safe arrival in the land where
Briton, Boer, Indian and African were doing their level best to stamp
out the blight of German kultur.
At four bells (2 a.m.) on the fifth day of the voyage Wilmshurst was
roused from his sleep by a commotion on deck. Men were running hither
and thither carrying out a series of orders shouted in stentorian
tones. The _Zungeru_ was altering course without slackening speed,
listing noticeably to starboard as the helm was put hard over.
Almost at the same time Laxdale awoke.
"What's up?" he enquired drowsily.
"I don't know," replied his companion. "I can hear Spofforth and
Danvers going on deck. Let's see what's doing."
Acting upon this suggestion the two officers hastily donned their great
coats over their pyjamas, slipped their feet into their canvas slices
and went on deck.
It was a calm night. The crescent moon was low down in the western
sky, but its brilliance was sufficient to enable objects to be seen
distinctly. Silhouetted against the slanting beams was the escorting
cruiser, which was pelting along at full speed and overhauling the
_Zungeru_ hand over fist. Although the cruiser and her convoy were
without steaming lights the former's yard-arm lamp was blinking out a
message in Morse.
The transports were in "double column line ahead," steaming due west
instead of following the course that would bring them within sight of
Table Bay. Less than a cable's length on the starboard column's beam
was the cruiser. She had already overtaken two of the transports, and
was now lapping the _Zungeru's_ quarter.
The object of this nocturnal display of activity was now apparent.
Less than a mile away was a large steamer, which had just steadied on
her helm and was now on a parallel course to that of the convoy.
"Anything startling?" enquired a major of one of the _Zungeru's_
officers who was passing.
"Oh, no," was the reply. "A tramp was trying to cut across our bows.
The _Tompion_ has signalled to know what's her little game. She's just
replied that she's the steamship _Ponto_, and wants to know whether
there have been any signs of a supposed raider."
The ship's officer continued on his way. The two subalterns, in no
hurry to return to their bunks, for the night air was warm and
fragrant, remained on deck, watching the manoeuvres of the cruiser and
the _Ponto_.
The exchange of signals continued for about ten minutes, then the
_Tompion_ resumed her station at the head of the convoy, while the
_Ponto_ took up her position on the beam of the starboard line.
Presently in obedience to a signal the ships altered helm and settled
down on their former course, the large steamer following suit, although
dropping steadily astern, for her speed was considerably less than that
of the transports.
Presently the ship's officer returned. As he passed Wilmshurst stopped
him, enquiring whether anything had developed.
"The _Ponto_ has cold feet," explained the _Zungeru's_ officer. "Her
Old Man seems to be under the impression that there is a Hun scuttling
around, so he's signalled for permission to tail on to us. The cruiser
offered no objection, provided the speed of the convoy is unaffected,
so by daylight the tramp will be hull-down, I expect."
"Much ado about nothing," remarked Laxdale. "I say, old man, let's
turn in again. What's the matter with you?"
He grasped Wilmshurst by the arm. The subaltern, apparently heedless
of the touch, was gazing fixedly at the tramp. The mercantile officer
and Laxdale both followed the direction of his look, the former giving
vent to a low whistle.
From above the gunwale of a boat stowed amidships on the _Ponto_ a
feeble light glimmered.
"Help--German raider," it signalled.
"You read it?" enquired the sailor hurriedly, as if to confirm the
evidence of his own eyes.
"Yes," replied Wilmshurst, and repeated the signal.
Without another word the _Zungeru's_ officer turned and raced to the
bridge. In a few moments the signal was passed on to the _Tompion_ by
means of a flashlamp, the rays of which were invisible save from the
direction of the receiver.
"Very good," was the cruiser's reply. "Carry on."
A little later the general order was flashed in to the convoy.
"Increase speed to seventeen knots."
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
glasses, marine-glasses, 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 shell
perilously close to the weather side of the cruiser's fore-bridge.
Before the raider could fire a second time three shells struck her
close to the stern-post, literally pulverising the whole of the poop.
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 unobserved 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 ashore 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 passages 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."