When at length the train crawled out of Muizenberg station the three "Diggers" (as New Zealand infantrymen are commonly dubbed amongst themselves) had for company a sympathetic fellow-passenger, who on hearing of their plight was quick to suggest a plan.
"I know your boat," he remarked. "No. 109 is lying nearest in-shore off Woodstock--that's a suburb of Cape Town, you know. I'm a transport officer, so I know a bit about it. Hop off the train at Woodstock and enquire for Van Hoek's boathouse. It's at the mouth of Salt River. Old Van will row you off for a matter of ten shillings."
The passenger seemed of a very communicative disposition. He evinced considerable interest in various incidents of the New Zealanders' voyage. Without much questioning he led the three Anzacs to give a fairly detailed account of what had happened.
"It's all news to me," he remarked. "Even in the Transport Office we hear but very little. Of course the heads know a lot, but the minor officials, such as myself, are not taken into their confidence."
The train slowing down as it approached Woodstock station terminated the conversation. With many thanks for the information, Malcolm and his chums left the carriage, and, in giving up their tickets, enquired of the Dutch ticket-collector the way to Van Hoek's establishment.
The official had never heard of the place; nor had three or four others to whom the enquiry was put.
"At any rate," said Fortescue in desperation, "I suppose there is such a show as Salt River?"
"Oh yes, we know where that is," was the chorused reply.
Declining offers to be shown the way, the three chums set out, and presently arrived at the low shore of the estuary. The opposite bank was invisible, as at the spot the mud-flats were covered at high tide. To all appearance it was open water right out to Table Bay.
The shore was deserted. The few buildings were evidently untenanted. On the beach half a dozen boats were hauled up above high-water mark. Farther out were others riding easily to moorings.