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.