With Rifle and Bayonet: A Story of the Boer War

“It’s true all the same,” replied Guy Richardson dejectedly. “There are hosts more like myself. Good Englishmen, who know that this war has been wilfully forced on the empire by the Boers, and who are determined to escape from their adopted Republic and fight for the queen. But we are all carefully watched, and I fear that more than one of the poor fellows have lost their lives. Only a few days ago I heard that they have been forced to fight in the most exposed positions, and these men here have threatened that I shall have such a post. If a bullet finds me out when I am fighting for England I shall not grumble, but if I am to be struck down by my own people, would rather shoot myself. It is awful, but I have sworn never to fire a gun for these brutes, and I will stick to that determination.”

“Tell me where you have been,” said Jack. “From the fact of this being such a small commando, I imagine there are none of our troops near at hand. I was riding up to meet Plumer’s force.”

“We have been on a visit to the natives, Somerton,” Guy Richardson replied, “and although I have not been told the motive, it is easy to guess that the Boers wish to stir them up so as to increase our difficulties. We are now returning to Pretoria. I am thankful that I have broken my arm, for now they will not be able to send me to the front. I wish, though, I could find out what has happened to Father.”

“I suppose they will put us in hospital when we reach the end of our journey, Richardson,” Jack said thoughtfully. “If so, and you are ready to come with me, we will make an attempt at escape. I have been in difficulties in the Transvaal once before, and got out safely.”

“I’ll stand by you and make the attempt at any time,” exclaimed Richardson impulsively. “Anything to get out of the hands of these Boers!”

“Then we’ll take it as settled that we will have a try to get away at the first opportunity,” Jack replied. “We shall have lots of time to talk the matter over, but one thing has occurred to me. We must make believe that we are worse than we really are. That will make any guards placed over us less watchful, and will give us a better chance.”

That evening Jack’s wound was dressed again with the greatest tenderness by the Boer doctor, and on the following morning the oxen were inspanned, and the small commando set off for Pretoria, carrying with them as a trophy the skin of the African lion.

A week later they reached the seat of the Boer Government, and, much to Jack’s pleasure, he was placed in hospital side by side with Guy Richardson, with whom he had already struck up a firm friendship. He had quite expected to be placed amongst the English prisoners, of whom there were unfortunately a large number already; and though he would have been glad to be with them, his plans for escape would have become all the more difficult. As it was, he was surrounded by Boers, and still under the care of the same doctor, who seemed to have taken quite a fancy to him.

Two weeks later he was about, with his arm in a sling, and was able to see what Pretoria was like during these days of struggle. Once, too, the President passed close to him when making a visit to the hospital, and though it might have been merely imagination, Jack fancied that his heavy face bore traces of ever-growing sorrow, and that the broad, stooping shoulders were bowed a little more than usual under a load of anxious care, and under the bitter disappointment of an overwhelming ambition which had been cherished and nurtured for a lifetime. Nor was the President the only one who felt the anxiety of these times of war. The Boer forces, though long prepared for their work, had not swooped down and driven the hated British into the sea. The Dutch population of South Africa had not risen as was expected, and joined their kith and kin to shake off English rule. But instead, Joubert and his hordes of burghers had invaded Natal only to a point a few miles south of Colenso, while in Cape Colony the Free Staters had barely passed the borders, and Mafeking and Kimberley still laughed at the invading forces. It was not a brilliant prospect, when the Boers had hoped to crush the British in three weeks.

They had now done all the invading they were ever likely to do, and though successes might still fall to their arms, though in carefully-prepared trenches and defences they might resist and bear back for a time the relieving-forces now marching towards Ladysmith and Kimberley, yet they knew that those reinforcements would eventually invade the two republics and appear before Bloemfontein and Pretoria just as surely as the earth would continue to revolve.

No wonder, then, that they looked downcast and harassed, while many of them secretly longed for a peaceful termination of the struggle, and a life of freedom under British rule.

Chapter Thirteen.
Wounded and a Prisoner

A month after he reached Pretoria, Jack’s wound was almost healed, and he really had no need to keep his arm in a sling. But, for the first time in his life, he made a pretence of feeling weak, and still walked slowly, as if he were feeble after his adventurous encounter with the lion.

Guy Richardson, too, was now quite strong again. His broken arm had united firmly; but still he persisted in wearing it slung in a scarf, and thus escaped being sent to the front.

They were both inmates of the hospital, which was once a school building, but had now, like hosts of others, been turned into shelters for the wounded. Of these, despite the small numbers acknowledged by the Boers, there were now hundreds – so many indeed that the staff of doctors and attendants was taxed severely.

The building in which Jack and Guy had been placed had large windows, and as they were the only Englishmen there, no sentries were placed over them. There were about twenty other patients in the hospital, who were constantly changing, those who were sufficiently well being sent elsewhere to make room for more severe cases. Consequently there was little to fear from their companions, and the two young fellows, feeling now sufficiently strong to stand the fatigues of a long journey, decided to make their long-talked-of attempt at escape.

“Now, the first thing to be settled is which frontier we shall make for,” said Jack, when they were discussing the matter. “The best and easiest way is to the east, through Komati Poort, into Portuguese territory, and on to Lorenzo Marques. We could get a steamer there, sailing from Delagoa Bay to Durban, and so should be able to join the British troops. The difficulty about the matter is that all trains to the coast will be closely watched, for there are many Englishmen, like yourself, endeavouring to slip away.”

“Yes, Lorenzo Marques appears to be the best place to aim for,” Guy answered thoughtfully; “but the whole of the frontier is certain to be strongly patrolled. Supposing it were out of the question for us to attempt to get through on the east, what direction do you think we ought to take?”

“I should say that Natal, by way of Harrismith, would be the best, Guy. I have made the journey once before, and it will have two advantages. One is, that both the Transvaal and the Orange Free State are practically deserted; and the second, that such a mad act as the attempt on the part of an escaping prisoner to cut into Natal, where the Boers are so strongly posted, would never cross their minds. These burghers are slim, very slim, but recklessness is a vice they cannot understand. Their motto is to take due care of themselves, and to attempt to creep through the enemy’s strongest position would mean as much as suicide to them. If Komati Poort and the eastern coast are too carefully watched I think we ought to try to reach Natal and get into Ladysmith. The Boers have failed to take the camp, and from what the doctor here has told me are likely to be kept outside for an indefinite period.”

“But we could never hope to get through as we are,” cried Guy. “Remember, Jack, Harrismith is a long way from here, and we should certainly be seen by someone.”

“Yes, that is probable,” answered Jack calmly, puffing thoughtfully at his pipe, “but we must brazen it out. There are lots of scoundrels, fellows who got into hot water at home, or who were never fit to be called Englishmen, who have taken up arms for the Boers. You have told me so yourself, and that, dressed as we are, we should pass for them. Very well, that is what we must do. We must pretend we are Englishmen on the Boer side returning to the front after being wounded. It will be simple enough, and all we shall want will be rifles. We must manage to get hold of two Mausers and bandoliers. I suppose we shall have to steal them, but then, all is fair in war, and when you come to think of it, all the weapons the Boers possess have been paid for by Uitlander gold.”

“By Jove, Jack, I believe you are right!” exclaimed Guy enthusiastically. “The bolder we are, the more chance we shall have of getting through. I think, however, that we ought first of all to make the attempt towards the east. If that fails, we can try the south. But how about those rifles?”

“Oh, we must get them somehow, Guy!” answered Jack firmly. “Look down the street,” he continued, pointing in the direction of the government buildings. “Opposite Government House there is always a guard of six men, and they live in the little shed close by. I know something about them, for I have watched them change guard every day I have been here. If you look closely you will see that the four men off duty place their rifles in the rack outside the house, and sling their bandoliers over the muzzles. Surely we could manage to get possession of a couple of them.”

“Yes, we might,” agreed Guy dubiously, “but how?”

“Well; break one of the windows of Government House, for instance. How would that do?” asked Jack. “After all, we only want to call the sentries’ attention away from the guard-room for a few moments. There ought not to be much difficulty about it. One of us could manage the window and the other walk off with the rifles. But it is a kind of matter to be settled on the spot. Another thing we must think of is food. Our rations here are none too plentiful, and I fancy that provisions are scarce in every part of the Transvaal. But we have put by some of ours this last week, and that will keep us going for a time.”

“Well, then, the sooner we make the attempt the better,” cried Guy. “What do you say to to-night?”

“To-night will do as well as any, Guy, and we will slip through this window as soon as it gets dark.”

A few minutes later, as Jack and his friend were talking over the plans for their escape that night, the Boer doctor entered the hospital and walked up to them.

“My friend,” he said, placing his hand on Jack’s shoulder, “I am sorry to say that from to-day you and I must part company. You are now sufficiently well to leave this hospital and make room for a burgher who has just arrived from Natal in a serious condition, and your comrade will also be moved to-morrow. Get whatever things you have ready. There is a cart outside to convey you to a farm on the outskirts of Pretoria. By right you should be sent to the race-course, where all the English prisoners are confined, but I managed to get the authorities to let me keep you here, and afterwards to send you to the farm as a particular favour. We may not meet again till this terrible war is over, but then, whoever wins the day, if you come back here ask for me and I will hand over to you the skin of that lion you helped to slay.”

Jack was dismayed at the order, but, recovering from his astonishment, he managed to stutter out his thanks to the doctor, who had been exceedingly kind and attentive to him.

“I can never thank you sufficiently, Dr Otto,” he said warmly, “and if I ever return to Pretoria I will certainly look you up and claim the skin. It is a trophy which I should be very glad to possess.”

“Very well, then, my dear young fellow,” answered the Boer doctor. “We will consider the matter as settled. Ah, how I wish this conflict was over! My heart is not in it. Peace and equality for all is a maxim I have always considered best for this country. But I am busy. Goodbye! and I trust we shall meet again some day.”

Jack shook hands with him, and then commenced to pack up his few belongings.

“Don’t be down-hearted, Guy,” he exclaimed cheerfully. “This separation is a nuisance, but we are not going to give up our plans. Expect me to-night; I will tap gently at this window and wait underneath it for you. If I fail to get away from this farm to-night, I will find out where you are in the course of a few days, and then you can expect me. Good-bye, old chap, and keep up your pecker! We are going to get out of this cage, and together, too!”

“That we will, Jack,” Guy answered brightly. “Be sure I shall be ready when you come along; but if you find that coming for me spoils your own chances, leave me to get away as best I can and make good your escape.”

“I’m going to get out of Pretoria, and you are coming with me or I won’t go at all!” exclaimed Jack stubbornly, and with more excitement than he was wont to show. “Expect me to-night. It will not be my fault if I fail to turn up.”

Shaking hands with one another, the two young fellows parted, still firm in their intention to escape if possible from Pretoria, but now far more doubtful of success.

A few minutes later Jack was seated in a four-wheeled cart, and was driven through the streets towards the outskirts of the town. As they passed the railway-station a train from Natal had just arrived, and the Boer driver pulled up his horse and chatted with a comrade who was standing near.

On the platform there was an immense crowd, mainly composed of women, and a glance told Jack the reason of their presence. The carriages were all marked with a big red cross, and it was evident that this was an ambulance train, of which the Boers had many, perfectly fitted up. All the doors were open, and ambulance men and bystanders were helping to carry out the wounded.

A sorry, forlorn set of soldiers they looked, but not more sorry or woebegone than the women. Things were different now from what they had been a month before. The Boer forces had not met with that complete and overwhelming success which at first seemed to be in store for them. They had invaded the British colonies so far, and there they had been checked, and there they remained now, waiting till the tide turned, and the British troops, whom all had been taught to think lightly of, rolled their ranks back towards the frontier. And then – what would happen? They had never paused to think of that before. They had cheered their men folk on, and bidden them fight well for their country. But now it was a different matter. A few names only of killed and wounded had been returned, but rumour said that hundreds of others had been suppressed. No wonder, then, that these poor women flocked with tear-stained faces to the station, and clamoured for news of their husbands and sons.

It was a piteous sight, and Jack felt sorry for them; but he did not forget that in Cape Colony and Natal and away in Old England there were thousands more like them, weeping for the lads who had given their lives for queen and country.

The Boer now put his horse in motion again, and having driven half a mile outside the town, drew up at a pleasant little farmhouse.

Jack descended and entered. He was met by a field-cornet and a detachment of five armed men, and was at once placed in a small room at the back of the building.

Left to himself, he looked round for a means of escape, and noted with much satisfaction that there was a small window which would suit his purpose.

“I’ll lie down and pretend I am tired by the drive,” he murmured to himself, “and as soon as it gets dark I’ll get through that window. I wonder whether they will bring me anything to eat!”

Flinging himself on a bed placed in one corner, Jack remained quiet for more than an hour, thinking over his plans. Then the door was flung open, and a man entered, bearing a jug of water and some bread and meat.

“There you are, rooinek,” he said surlily. “That is all you will get to-night. If I had my way you would be sent to keep your countrymen company at the race-course. How Oom Otto could wish to have you here is more than I can say.”

Jack made no answer, but, turning on his side, closed his eyes as if he were weary and took no notice of the food. A moment later the man was gone, and, slipping from the bed, he stole noiselessly across the floor and carefully inspected the door. It had a large key-hole, and this he plugged with bread.

Then he sat down on the cot again and ate some of the food.

“Now I am ready,” he murmured. “There is enough food here to last me two days, and by that time I shall have managed to get some more.”

Three hours later it was quite dark, and, flinging his haversack over his shoulder, and carefully feeling beneath his coat to make sure that his Mauser was still there, – for by a wonderful chance it had escaped notice when his wound was first dressed, – he crept across to the window and opened it noiselessly. It was placed high up in the wall, so that Jack put a wooden stool beneath it, and, mounting on this, was on the point of hoisting himself up, when, to his horror and dismay, the door was thrown open, and a man entered bearing a candle in his hand.

A second later he had grasped Jack firmly by the collar and had flashed the light in his face.

It was a terrible misfortune, and Jack could almost have cried. But, for the moment, his attention was otherwise occupied, for as the rays from the candle fell upon the stalwart Boer, he recognised, with a curious feeling of pleasure and hope, that it was the very man whom he had handed over to his friends near Vryburg, after wounding him in the chest.

The recognition was mutual, and the Boer, who a moment before was in the act of calling for assistance, shut his lips and stared at Jack as though he were too much surprised to speak. Then he burst into silent laughter and dragged Jack to the bed.

To resist was useless, and like a wise man Jack at once resigned himself to his fate.

“So, Englishman,” the big Boer at length exclaimed, when both were seated, “you were about to bid us goodbye! Surely we have not treated you so badly.”

“I have had the kindest attention,” answered Jack, “but, remember, liberty is dear to every man.”

“It is so. Liberty is our birthright, and that is why we fight,” the Boer answered solemnly. Then he remained silent for several minutes and looked earnestly at Jack. “Why did you not throw me off and make good your escape?” he asked, with the suspicion of a smile upon his face. “I am weak still from the wound you gave me, and for that reason am in hospital here. You could have beaten out my brains with that stool.”

“Yes; I might have done that,” Jack answered thoughtfully, “but it would not have helped me. The guard outside would have been roused, and I should have been taken. Well, it is rough luck, and to-morrow I suppose I shall be sent off to the race-course.”

“Perhaps, Englishman, perhaps!” the Boer answered slowly, and then lapsed into silence again, and became buried in deep thought.

Suddenly he roused himself and said in a low whisper: “Englishman, I do not love your countrymen, but I cannot forget that once you helped me when wounded. You ran the risk of imprisonment so that I might not die like a poor deserted dog in the bush. It is hard that I should repay you in this way. It would have been better had I entered this room an hour later. But I will show my gratitude at all costs. Escape now, before I change my mind, for in doing this I too shall risk my life. Escape! Leave me! I will lie upon the floor, and so disarrange the room that, when my comrades find me there in the morning, they will think that you have attacked me. Go, Englishman; you deserve a reward for your noble act!”

Jack was simply astounded, and could scarcely believe his ears. “Was it true that he was free to escape after all?” he wondered vaguely, “or was this merely some sly ruse?”

A second later he dismissed the thought as ungrateful, for a glance at the Boer’s face told him that here at least was one man with honest intentions. Then he wrung his hand, blurted out his thanks, and a minute later was climbing through the window.

Creeping close to the wall once he had dropped outside, Jack paused for a few moments and listened. There was a light in a room at the side, and from the open window sounds of voices proceeded. Stealing along to it Jack lifted his head cautiously and peeped in, to find that the field-cornet and his five men were seated on some benches in a cloud of tobacco smoke.

It was clear that they had no fear that the Englishman in their care would escape, and, thankful for the fact, for the longer his absence remained undiscovered the better, Jack hurried away in the darkness, and a quarter of an hour later entered the streets of Pretoria.

When he reached the neighbourhood of the hospital in which Guy was living, he slipped off his boots, and, carrying them, walked along till he was close to the guard-house opposite the government buildings.

“It will be much better for me to get those rifles now,” he thought. “Perhaps someone might give the alarm as Guy is leaving the hospital, and then we could never hope to get possession of any weapons, and to pass as Englishmen on the Boer side we must have them. I’ll wait here till the sentries are changed. The hour for that is ten o’clock, and it is not far from that now.”

Seating himself in the darkest corner, but well in sight of the guard-house, Jack waited patiently, and soon had the satisfaction of seeing two men emerge from it and relieve their comrades. It was quite an informal matter, and performed in a very different manner from that practised by English troops. Smoking their pipes, the two men stepped out of the hut and called to the others to come to them. Then each took a bandolier and a rifle from one of the sentries, and, still smoking, strolled across to their posts and stopped in front of the big building to continue a conversation which they had broken off in the hut.

Now was Jack’s chance, and he seized it. Slipping along close to the wall, he crossed the road noiselessly, peeped into the guard-house to see that all was quiet, and then, with his eyes upon the careless sentries, slipped two of the bandoliers across his shoulder, and carefully lifted two rifles from the rack. A moment later he was gone, and, hurrying back to his former hiding-place, deposited his possessions on the ground. A few minutes passed, and as all was still quiet, he slipped up to the window of the hospital close to which Guy’s bed was placed, and gently tapped on the window-frame. It was an intensely hot night, and fortunately the window stood wide open. A second later Guy was leaning through it.

“Is that you, Jack, old boy?” he whispered.

“Yes. Come along, Guy,” Jack answered. “Slip out at once. There is no one about.”

“I’m ready,” Guy whispered back, and, dropping from the window, was standing close at Jack’s side in a twinkling.

Taking him by the sleeve Jack led him along close to the wall till he reached his former post, when he placed a bandolier and a rifle in his hands.

“Slip the belt on, Guy,” he said shortly; “we have no time to lose.”

“What! Where did you get these, Jack?” Guy asked hoarsely.

“Stole them, old chap!” Jack chuckled. “I stole them from the guard-house a few minutes ago. Steady, man! What are you doing?”

The last hurried exclamation followed the accidental dropping of Guy’s rifle, which clattered loudly on the pavement.

Instantly the two sentries became alert, and one of them called out harshly: “Wie gaat daar?”

“Come along! Quick!” Jack whispered, “Follow me! We must get out of this at once.”

Darting down the street they came to a turning, and waited there to see what would happen. As they did so, the sentry who had challenged walked quickly towards the hospital, evidently determined to solve the cause of the mysterious sound. Finding nothing, he looked up at the windows, and then looked in at the open one and asked if anyone inside had heard anything. The reply was unsatisfactory, for he at once shouted that something was wrong, and called to the hospital attendant to bring a light. At the same moment the men off guard emerged hurriedly from the hut, and by simple force of habit went to the rack for their rifles.

“Someone has taken two of our guns and bandoliers,” one of them shouted in the Boer tongue. “What is wrong, Paul? Are there thieves about, or is it that weak-hearted Englishman, Guy Richardson, who is trying to escape?”

What the answer was Jack and Guy did not stay to hear. Guy hastily interpreted what had been said, and realising that their flight had already been discovered, the two darted off down the street in the direction of the station. They could still hear excited shouts behind them, but these soon died away.

“Let us stop here for a minute,” said Jack breathlessly, when they were close to the station. “Now, what is to be done? We must get out of Pretoria as soon as possible.”

“Listen! what is that?” Guy exclaimed eagerly. “It is an engine in the station with steam up. What luck if a train is about to leave! Let us make a rush for it.”

“Yes, and be collared at once,” muttered Jack. “No, Guy, we must be cool about it. That is a train on the point of leaving. Let us brazen the matter out. Pretend that we are burghers, and join the train as though we had a right to. Come along! There goes the whistle! It will be off in a minute!”

Swinging their Mausers behind their backs, Jack and Guy coolly walked through the gates of the station, and mounted the platform, against which a locomotive and carriages were standing on the point of moving off. Swaggering along as though there were plenty of time to take their places, and as if there could be no question as to their right to be there, they had passed a good half-way up the platform when the whistle sounded again and the wheels began to revolve. Glancing hastily into the carriages, Jack selected one which had only two occupants, and sprang into it, followed by Guy. Then they sat down in the two corners facing one another, and commenced to smoke their pipes.

The two men in the carriage, who were dressed in the usual Boer costume, scarcely noticed their entrance, for they were engaged in an animated conversation which seemed to occupy all their thoughts. But they were conscious of the fact that strangers had joined them, for they immediately sank their voices to a whisper.

Jack and Guy listened to them, and soon became aware that the language used was English. At the same moment the stoutness of one figure, and an obtrusive German accent, roused Jack’s suspicions, and another glance convinced him that by some evil fate he and his comrade had entered a carriage in which were Piet Maartens and Hans Schloss, the two men who above all others in this land of Boers bore him an ill will.

His discovery by the wounded Boer when in the act of escaping from the farm to which he had been sent in the morning was nothing to the shock which this recognition brought him. Here he was, with only one friend, attempting to get back to British territory, and their flight had already been discovered; and now, to make matters ten times worse, they were in the presence of two men who would certainly arrest them as soon as they learnt who they were. It was a terrible predicament, and might very well have awed the boldest, for to be captured now meant almost certain death for Guy, while for Jack a punishment of little less severity might be expected.

Sitting in his corner Jack puffed briskly at his pipe and thought deeply. Then he pulled his slouch hat well over his eyes, and, casually stretching out his legs, touched Guy and attracted his attention. A serious of short winks and nods followed, and if they did not exactly explain the situation to Guy Richardson, they at least showed him that danger was to be expected.

Suddenly Jack became aware that Hans Schloss and his companion had stopped their talking and were staring hard at him. But he took no notice, and, still lying back in his corner, puffed heavily at his pipe.

“Who are you?” Piet Maartens suddenly asked, leaning across and jerking him by the sleeve. Then as Jack looked up he recognised him, and shouted: “The spy again! Help me, Hans, these two are Englishmen!”

Next second Jack had thrown himself upon him, and Guy rushed at the fat little German, and, grasping him by the collar, threatened to blow out his brains if he made so much as a sound.

But though Hans Schloss was no great fighter, and had given in at once with a terrified whine, the Boer was made of sterner stuff, and endeavoured to draw his pistol. Jack was too quick for him, and now, locked in each other’s arms, they swayed backwards and forwards, and finally fell to the floor with a crash, striking one of the doors heavily as they did so, and bursting it open.

“Out with him, Jack! Pitch him out! It is our only chance,” Guy cried excitedly.

Jack heard and understood his words, and, summoning all his strength, folded Piet Maartens in his arms, and, staggering to his feet, hurled him from the carriage. A moment after Guy had served the shrieking German in the same manner, and they were left alone in the carriage.

Meanwhile the train had got up speed on its long run to the Portuguese frontier, and was now well out of Pretoria and rushing across the lonely veldt.

“By Jove!” exclaimed Jack breathlessly, lifting his hat from his head and wiping the perspiration from his forehead, “that was a close shave, and if those fellows are not killed, we shall have them setting the whole country after us!”

“Then that settles it, Jack,” Guy answered with conviction. “If one or both survived the fall they will make for the nearest office and telegraph down the line to stop us. We must get out of this and make for the south.”