With Rifle and Bayonet: A Story of the Boer War

Then he shouted, “Fire!” and instantly the four rifles spoke out, spouting forth a continuous stream of bullets and angry puffs of flame. Then they stopped as suddenly, as the magazines emptied.

“Now volley-firing!” shouted Jack; and each, slipping in a cartridge, waited till he gave the word. Four times in rapid succession they emptied their rifles, but on the last occasion only into flying men, for the Boer slimness had for once been dormant, and neglect of ordinary precautions had led them into a trap which proved a bitter lesson to them. At such close quarters, and grouped together as they were, the long Lee-Metford bullets, with their tremendous velocity and penetrating power, had drilled through and through the mass, and had almost annihilated the band. Had a Maxim been turned upon them for a minute the slaughter could scarcely have been greater, and as it was, a pile of dead and wounded Boers blocked the entrance to the homely English flower-garden, while injured ponies struggled and lashed out madly with their heels, adding to the ghastly picture.

It had been a sudden and terrible blow, and those of the enemy who yet lived turned their animals, and, extricating themselves from the heap of fallen comrades, galloped madly away in the desperate desire to escape from the murderous rifles of the few dauntless “Rooineks” whom they had hoped to find dead and mangled beneath the ruins of the farmhouse.

“That will teach them something, my lads!” exclaimed Frank Russel hoarsely. “It’s awful to have to kill so many of them, but it’s their lives or ours, and besides, we’ve a glorious cause to fight for.”

“It is truly awful,” murmured Eileen, sitting down on the floor and suddenly turning deadly pale. “Oh, I cannot bear to hear their groans!”

“She’s done up, and no wonder, poor girl!” cried Frank. “Slip below, Jack, and fetch up a glass of brandy. There, that’s it, Eileen dear! pull yourself together, and remember it is all for our queen and country.”

Jack at once dived into the cellar and reappeared with some brandy and water, some of which was poured between Eileen’s lips. But she was now in a dead faint, and it was some minutes before she regained consciousness again. Naturally a somewhat timid and gentle-mannered girl, to be called upon to use a rifle in earnest and deal mortal wounds was a sore trial to her. The need for strength, and the stern struggle in which she had so bravely borne a part, had, however, braced her for the work. But now, when it was all over, or rather when the hostilities had ceased for a time, and she saw the wounded and heard their groans, the terrible sight and the unusual sounds unnerved her, and she was prostrate in a moment.

A little later she had recovered, and, stimulated by the brandy and soothed by her father’s kind words, was soon herself again and able to stand up.

Meanwhile Wilfred and Jack had dragged a table from a corner in the kitchen, and having placed it beneath the gap in the iron roof, and lifted a chair upon it, the latter jumped up, and, standing on tiptoe, waved a handkerchief. It was answered from a distance, and as soon as one of the enemy had galloped up, Jack informed him that for an hour they were at liberty to send a party of fifteen men to remove the killed and wounded.

The permission was again accepted with grateful thanks, and while the gruesome work was going on, the little garrison once more took advantage of the time to snatch a hasty meal. When all the Boers who lay in front of the house had been removed, a man with a grey beard and wrinkled face rode forward alone and asked for a parley.

From his post in the roof Jack beckoned to him to advance, and asked him what he wanted.

“Elof Visser is dead,” he began sadly, “and so are many more of my poor comrades; but, for all the loss we have suffered, we are none the less determined. We will capture you if we have to smash the house to pieces. But you are brave men, and I again offer you terms, and if you refuse them, beg that you will send out the girl. She shall be taken and handed over to the English pickets outside Kimberley. Think well of what I say. Frank Russel shall not be injured if he is with you. That is all; but I will remind you that they are honourable terms, which men such as you are might well accept.”

“Thank you,” replied Jack courteously. “I will discuss your terms with my comrades. Draw off as far as the railing and wait till I call you.”

“Now, what shall we do?” he asked, jumping from the table. “Whatever happens, I think Eileen had better trust herself to these men. The Boer outside looks an honest sort, and I am sure he will do exactly as he promised.”

“I refuse to leave you!” exclaimed Eileen indignantly. “If you are not going to surrender, I shall certainly not say ‘good-bye’ now. My rifle has proved of some help to you, and will be wanted badly later on. You can settle the point as to surrender or not, Jack, but I am mistress of my own actions, and shall throw in my lot with you.”

“George! then I expect there’s only one answer to be made!” cried Frank. “We’ve shown them that this is a precious tough nut to crack, and we’re no worse off now than we were early this morning. Let us stick to it, I say, and trust to the boys from Kimberley reaching us by nightfall.”

“And I think the same,” exclaimed Wilfred excitedly. “We’ve got the cellar to hide in, and since it has already stood a long bombardment, it will serve our purpose for a few hours longer. We’ve plenty of ammunition and food and water. Yes, I quite agree. ‘Stick to it!’ is our motto.”

“Very well, then,” said Jack, with a grim chuckle, “I’ll let this fellow know.”

Jumping up on the table he called to the Boer, and as soon as he bad approached near enough told him the decision of the little garrison.

“We are much obliged for your kindness and for the terms you offer,” he called out, “and are only sorry we cannot accept them. We are willing to retire from this house to Kimberley, if you will promise to let us go unmolested, but we will not surrender. Miss Russel, too, refuses to leave us. Now let me advise you again to leave us alone. We have already shown you that we are determined not to be taken, and we mean it more now than we did before. Grant us a free and safe passage into Kimberley and end the matter. If you refuse, then you must take the consequences, for my men are fully prepared to fight till they are killed.”

“How many of you are there?” asked the Boer craftily.

“Ah!” replied Jack with a knowing smile, “there are just as many here as there were last night. Promise us a safe pass into the town and I will give you our numbers.”

“It is impossible,” was the curt answer. “I have done all that man can do. My comrades and I admire your bravery, and therefore have offered you these terms. You refuse for the second time. Very well, I am sorry, my young friend, for you compel us to kill you. It is a pity your wisdom does not match your bravery. I shall return now, and when I reach our lines the guns will commence again.”

The Boer nodded and cantered away, and five minutes later the storm of shell had once more commenced to plunge through the farmhouse.

First plugged shells were used, that is, shells without explosive contents and devoid of fuses; and these for the most part rushed through the walls, merely increasing the havoc already wrought. Then the one-pounder, quick-firing gun, familiarly known as the pom-pom, a terrible weapon against troops exposed in the open, joined in the awful din, and sent murderous projectiles hurtling through the house. But by some lucky chance the majority of the shells failed to explode (probably because the foreign contractors had filled a large proportion of them with saw-dust), and merely burst their way through the shattered house without doing much damage. For an hour the cannonade continued, and just before it finished it was increased by the firing of a Maxim, which had been galloped up to closer quarters.

By this time Frank Russel’s farm was a ruin; doors, windows, and walls were in pieces, and the roof was gashed in all directions. Only the kitchen seemed by some chance to have escaped. And down below it all, in the bomb-proof cellar, Jack and his friends sat waiting for another rush, Eileen quietly boiling a kettle over a spirit-stove and preparing to make some tea, while the men smoked on serenely, laughing and chatting when a momentary lull allowed them to do so, and ready at any moment to hurry upstairs and man their posts again.

“That is the last burst!” exclaimed Frank Russel, with an easy laugh as the distinctive rat, tat, tat, tat of the Maxim reached their ears. “Get ready, lads! they’ll be coming soon. When they find we’re still alive and kicking, they will be wondering whether we are ordinary men or not. It was a splendid idea of yours, Jack, to make use of this cellar. Tim and I, with another of the Kaffir boys, dug it out and bricked it round some years ago. It’s a good storehouse for cartridges, but I never thought it would mean the saving of our lives. Ah, that is the very last!” he added as a one-pounder shell burst overhead and carried away a good portion of the roof.

Jack immediately pushed his head up through the trap, and as the Maxim had stopped, crawled across the floor, clearing a path through the scattered woodwork and débris. Then he peered through a small aperture made by a shell, and looked earnestly across the veldt. As he had expected, the Boers were advancing, bringing their guns with them.

“They are pushing forward,” he cried, “but I fancy they do not mean to rush us. It looks as though they would shell us again. If they do we must still keep quiet, for if they attack at close quarters and in force, a surprise will help us more than anything.”

By this time the horsemen were within 600 yards, and here the guns halted, while the Boers spread out and advanced towards the front of the little farmhouse. Almost immediately the Hotchkiss opened fire, and soon after the rattle of the Maxim and the continuous rip, rip of the bullets overhead told the defenders that it was as yet unsafe to venture up from their cellar. Jack had already slipped down there, but now, rifle in hand, with bayonet fixed, he stood close to the ladder, ready to rush up as soon as the time arrived. A glance at him was sufficient to show that this young Englishman had firmly made up his mind not to give in till the last drop of his blood had been shed; and Frank Russel and Wilfred were evidently determined to back him up through thick and thin. They were without doubt in a tight corner, and might expect to be rushed at any moment; but for all that, the dangers they had already passed through seemed only to have increased their doggedness.

Dressed in corduroy riding-breeches, gaiters, and spurs, and with the sleeves of his shirt turned up over his elbow, Jack looked fit for any work. A pipe was in his mouth, and his thin lips encircled the stem closely with what was next door to a smile, showing that, however young and inexperienced he might be, Jack was certainly by no means dismayed at the thought of the coming struggle.

“This is going to be the hottest and stiffest fight of all,” he cried, so that all could hear; “and mind you, it will not do for any one of us to show so much as a finger. They are coming from the front, and we three will look after them there, opening fire when they are about sixty yards away. Some of them who have the pluck will get close up to the house, and will try to force their way in through the broken walls. If we fail to shoot them down Eileen will be able to stop them, for she will take her post half-way up this ladder, so as to be out of the fire.”

“But, Jack,” Eileen began to expostulate.

“You will do as I say, or else we will show the white flag at once,” exclaimed Jack earnestly.

“The lad’s right, Eileen,” Frank chimed in. “It’s going to be hot work up above, and you can help us far more by doing as Jack says than by taking a place by our sides. But – look out, lads! It’s time we hopped up again.”

All three instantly scrambled out of the cellar and took their places, while Eileen climbed a few rungs of the ladder and stood there, rifle in hand, and with her head just below the level of the floor.

Meanwhile Jack had darted to the back, and then to either side of the house, and having made sure that none of the Boers were in that direction, rejoined his comrades. Looking out through an aperture, he saw that about forty men had dismounted and were creeping forward in extended order, while in the centre was the Maxim, which had just stopped work for fear of injuring its own side.

“Mark that Maxim!” said Jack sharply. “If we drive off these fellows we can easily make it next door to impossible for them to remove it, for at this distance we could shoot down any man who approaches it. But our duty now is to look after these fellows. Frank, you take those of the left. I’ll look after those directly in front of me, and Wilfred will manage those on the right. Let them get within sixty yards, and then fire fast and steady. Keep the magazine for closer quarters.”

Lying full-length on the ground, they pushed the muzzles of their rifles a few inches through the loopholes and waited.

“Now I think we can begin,” said Jack, when the Boers were well within the distance he had named. “Are you ready? Then fire!”

Taking a careful aim, the three pulled their triggers, and as many of the Boers threw up their hands and fell forward upon their faces. The remainder at once dropped full-length upon the grass and wriggled forward, firing after going a few feet, for they were still ignorant of the force opposed to them behind the shattered walls of the house, and therefore abstained from rushing. Had they done so, there is little doubt that they would quickly have overwhelmed the little garrison; but the average Boer dislikes nothing more intensely than to fight in the open and attack a position in which the enemy lurks in complete concealment. But to take the house there was absolute need for this, and believing that after all there were not many opposed to them, they ventured to approach.

And now the superiority of khaki clothing was fully sustained, for instead of being barely visible, each one of the Boers formed a black bull’s-eye against the waving veldt, and was an easy target for the rifles of Jack and his friends.

Loading and firing rapidly and steadily, they picked off one recumbent figure after another, and after five minutes’ work, when their rifles were becoming so hot that they could scarcely hold them, the enemy stopped and hesitated, and then fled in confusion, pursued still by the merciless bullets. When they reached the Maxim they stopped, and three of their number commenced to place it in position so as to rake the farmhouse.

But Jack and his two friends, helped now by Eileen, concentrated their fire upon it, and picked off the Boers. More at once rushed pluckily forward to take their places, but suffered the same fate, and soon, stung by the bullets which still spattered amongst them and struck puffs of dust from the ground, the enemy bolted out of range, leaving their Maxim behind them.

“By Jove, if we only possessed a few more rifles,” exclaimed Wilfred impetuously, “we would go out and bring in that gun. But it’s impossible as things are, and I expect we shall have something else to think of shortly.”

But, contrary to their expectations, nothing occurred, on shells flew overhead, and the Boers seemed to have disappeared from sight Jack climbed up on to the table and mounted on the chair. Then he searched all round with his glasses, and made out a number of men riding off in the distance towards Kimberley. He climbed up the iron sheets on to the top, and looked out behind. Here, too, all seemed deserted, but the sight of a half-hidden figure behind one of the low houses a mile away told him that they were still watched by the enemy.

“They’ve left us alone for a little,” he said, “but there are men all round us. The guns have gone, and I expect our friends have ridden back for reinforcements. You may be certain, though, that they have left sufficient behind to make it impossible for us to approach that Maxim. Well, I suppose we have nothing to do but wait. To-night, if we can last out so long, the garrison in Kimberley will make a sortie, but I think we are too far out for them to reach us.”

“That is so, Jack,” Frank Russel said. “We cannot expect direct help from them, but by making a sortie they will draw away some of these fellows who are watching us.”

“Then I vote we make a bolt for it!” Wilfred cried excitedly. “It will be our only chance, and if we don’t take advantage of it we shall never get any.”

“Yes, we must make a rush,” Jack agreed, “and by striking out here at the back, and away round to the left, we ought to manage it. To go straight ahead to meet a sortie party would mean that we should be surrounded.”

“You’re right, lad, perfectly right!” Frank Russel cried. “We’re playing a move with men who are as slim as slim can be, and to get away we must beat them at their own game. Put yourself in their shoes for a moment. It is just what any ordinary set of fellows would do if they were in a close fix like this. They’d rush towards the comrades who were coming out to help them. Our friends the Boers will expect us to do that, and we’ll disappoint them.”

“Then it is agreed we make a rush,” said Jack. “Let us have a look at the ponies.”

Going into the kitchen, they found that Prince and one of the Boer ponies alone remained alive, Vic and the others having been struck down by the shell.

Jack stepped up to the body of the little animal which had proved a true friend to him, and patted her gently on the neck. Then he climbed on to the table again and out on to the roof.

For three hours nothing happened, and then a large force of Boers appeared, and having reached their old position, out of range of the defenders’ rifles, they pulled up and put two big guns in position.

For an hour they poured a perfect torrent of shell at the house, smashing it to pieces and bringing that part over the cellar down with a crash upon the ground.

But though it was sufficiently terrifying to Jack and his friends below, it did not damp their ardour. Carefully popping up their heads, they ascertained that there were yet many posts in which they could kneel and fire and still not be exposed to the enemy. And if the worst were to happen, the cellar itself would form a last site for defence, from which they could hope to keep the Boers away for a considerable time.

It was now getting dark, and after a short pause, probably to fetch up more ammunition and cool the guns, the bombardment again commenced, one of the shells setting fire to the wreckage above the bomb-proof chamber. In an instant big tongues of flame burst forth, and a dense volume of choking smoke eddied into the cellar.

The sight filled the Boers with pleasure, as a faint cheer showed, and almost immediately afterwards they started forward, in open order, and rushed for the house.

“Out with the fire!” Jack cried sharply. “Those fellows cannot reach us for some minutes yet. Quick! Pass up those buckets to me!”

Standing on the top rung of the ladder, with the smoke blowing in his face and almost smothering him, he stretched down his hands, grasped the buckets passed up to him, and dashed the contents over the blazing timber. Two were sufficient, and in a minute the fire was subdued, and he had kicked out the surviving embers with his feet.

Then all four took the best places they could find, and, waiting till the Boers were close enough to make their aim fairly certain, opened fire upon them. But the dusk was already almost turning into night, and, undeterred by the bullets, the enemy was rapidly closing in upon them. Things looked very black, and common sense would have suggested an honourable surrender. But the excitement of the struggle had taken fast hold of Jack and his friends, and their blood was thoroughly roused. They had defended the house for many hours, and now, just at the moment when help and rescue were expected, they were not going to give up the unequal struggle till the very last moment had arrived. Even Eileen was firmly determined upon this point. Encouraged by the resolute pluck of her father and these two young Englishmen, she seemed to have forgotten her sex for the time being, and now, crouched behind a tumbled portion of the iron roof, her rifle spoke out repeatedly and truly, and sent many a Boer to his last account, or limping from the field.

But the impossible could not be expected. In spite of a gallant defence, the host of Boers were now close at hand, and a hail of bullets was directed at the house and at the four spitting points of flame which showed where the muzzles of the rifles were hidden.

“It’s all up, lads,” shouted Frank Russel. “Shall I shout to them to cease their fire?”

“Wait, what is that?” Eileen cried, clutching her father by the arm. “Guns in the distance, Father, and rifle fire. It is the sortie!”

Pausing for a moment, the defenders crouched behind their shelter and listened eagerly and with beating hearts. Shouts and volley-firing reached their ears, together with the well-known rattle of a Maxim, and almost instantly the Boers who were attacking them called anxiously to one another, and, leaping to their feet, rushed in the direction of the sounds at their fastest pace.

“Thank God, lads!” exclaimed Frank Russel earnestly. “It was a close shave, but He saw us safely through it.”

“Amen!” muttered Jack and Wilfred in husky voices, while Eileen threw herself in her father’s arms and embraced him affectionately.

“There’s no time to be lost,” Jack cried out hurriedly. “Wilfred, give me a hand with the ponies. Frank, you take Eileen outside and wait in front.”

Hastening to the kitchen, they searched about for the ponies, but found to their grief and disappointment that all had been killed.

“Well, it cannot be helped,” said Jack. “Come along, Wilfred. Let us get out of this.”

Picking their way across the tumbled beams and roof, they were soon out in the garden, and, waiting for a moment to make sure that no one was about, they hurried off across the veldt, leaving the sounds of the conflict on their right. It was an adventurous escape, and more than once they were on the point of discovery. But they had the fortune to pass by the few Boers who were still hurrying up to help their comrades, and two hours later they approached a huge bank of débris and earth which had been removed from the mines, and which formed one of the outlying positions of the garrison.

“Halt, who goes there!” was shouted. Then the dazzling beams of a search-light played upon their faces, and the same voice cried out in delighted tones, “Hooray, boys, it’s our friends right enough!”

Such a welcome the soldiers gave them. On every side they pressed forward to shake them by the hand, till the officer in charge of the works advanced and rescued them from the enthusiastic “Tommies.”

“We’re awfully glad to see you safe in our lines,” he exclaimed heartily. “Come into my tent and have some tea. We thought you would probably strike over for this spot, and so I had everything prepared. When you’ve had some refreshment I’ll pass you on to the commanding-officer. He has got quarters ready for you.”

Jack thanked the officer for his thoughtful kindness, and all four having partaken of a much-needed cup of tea, they prepared to walk across to the centre of the town. On their arrival there, the electric light was once more switched upon them, and every man who could be spared, and was not on duty, turned out to look at the four strangers who had so gallantly kept the Boers at bay and taught them such a lesson. When it was seen that one of them was only a girl, and that she carried a rifle, hearty cheers burst forth, and the enemy outside, when they heard them, ground their teeth and muttered things beneath their breath. Nor were their tempers improved when, on the following day, a bearer was sent out with a note describing exactly how many of the English had been hidden in the cellar of the farmhouse.

The commanding officer, the world-famous Cecil Rhodes, who had so pluckily stayed behind to take a part in the siege, and a score of officers of the garrison, all stepped forward and shook them by the hand. Tom Salter, too, was there, as well as Tim, and as soon as the excitement had abated the former led them away to quarters which had been allotted to them.

“Now, Jack,” he said, sitting down on an empty case, “light up and give me the yarn. Things here are very old and stale, and a little news is always welcome. Pass along that bottle, Frank, and make yourselves comfortable all of you.”

When Jack had given him the incidents of the attack upon the house, Tom’s face was a study, and the absolute amazement and wonder depicted upon it set the others in a roar.

“Well, I’m blowed!” he stuttered hoarsely. “Who’d have thought it! It just makes a fellow proud to be an Englishman. Jack, I knew all along that you were a plucky young beggar, but this beats all! Your friend, too, has got some grit about him, and so has Frank; but the girl – well, I never did hear of such downright bravery;” and Tom passed his fingers through his hair and gulped down a pannikin of rum and water with a distracted air which seemed to say that the news had been altogether too much for him.