"Not mine," replied Carr. "Must have belonged to one of those fellows we relieved."

"Possibly," agreed Selwyn, throwing the book into the pocket of his overalls. "We'll soon find out if it is."

The interrupted task was resumed, but in less than ten minutes the leading hand returned, accompanied by three of the regular firemen.

"You three," he announced, indicating Carr and his chums, "are to knock off and report to the Quartermaster."

Going on deck they duly reported themselves, and were conducted to a cabin on the lower bridge, their protests about having to appear in a coal-grimed state being ignored.

Within were the Captain and the Chief Engineer of the ship, while in two 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, finding it 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 to anyone--had that thing been thrown into the furnace, the chances are that the ship would have been blown up. No. 7 bunker---- Let me see, Jephson," he continued, addressing the engineer; "that was replenished 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 at Cape Town. They hadn't been touched when we arrived at Sierra Leone."

The infernal machine--for such it was--was an ingeniously-constructed piece of work. The hollow sh.e.l.l of papier-mache was made to resemble a lump of coal. Within was a slab of wet gun-cotton, while to make up the deficiency of weight the hollow was filled with water. Fortunately the bomb must have been cracked in contact with lumps of genuine coal, for the water had escaped. The contrivance would have been thrown into the furnace, with disastrous results; but Malcolm's astuteness had saved the situation.

"Mind, not a word!" cautioned the Skipper again as the three New Zealanders were dismissed. "In due course your conduct will be reported to the proper authorities, and no doubt you will hear favourably on the matter."

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_ pa.s.sengers.

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 b.u.t.t in. He'll face a firing-party without our a.s.sistance. 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."