stuck resolutely to their task. Each day they worked steadily up the
stream, unearthing nuggets, plying pick and shovel, and washing soil in
a rough cradle which Mr. Blakeney constructed. Their success was
wonderful. Poeskop had spoken truly when he had affirmed that the kloof
was full of gold. During the first six days' work, after the day of the
opening search, they gathered never less than four hundred ounces; on
two of these, thanks to some large nuggets, their finds totalled close
on six hundred and a little over eight hundred ounces respectively.
Each night they camped under the shelter of some bush, close to the
ladder. They slept in their blankets, with a good fire at their feet;
and the weather remaining fine and open, with little dew, they were
perfectly comfortable. They had with them a kettle in which to boil
their coffee, a three-legged Kaffir pot, which served them for baking
and stewing, and a saucepan. They had brought down a supply of meal and
some baking powder, from which Tom or Guy each day made and baked
sufficient bread for their wants. The kloof, a magnificent natural game
preserve, provided them with as much game, furred or feathered, as they
cared to shoot; and their stew-pot each night furnished them with a
savoury meal of the flesh of buck or guinea-fowl, or wild pigeon or
partridge. Sometimes they shot a couple or two of fat wild duck, mostly
_geelbek_ (yellow-bill), the best of all South African wildfowl, which,
baked in the three-legged pot, with embers above and below, and basted
with a little fat occasionally, afforded them a delicious banquet.
These were delightful days, which are likely to remain for ever marked
in letters of red in the memories of the two young adventurers and of
Mr. Blakeney. The toil was hard, but healthy; the kloof was wonderfully
beautiful; the weather was magnificent; the gipsy-like existence was
fascinating; the daily excitement and anticipation of seeking and
unearthing great quantities of the most valuable mineral in the world
kept them one and all at concert pitch.
The following Sunday, having climbed up their ladder on the Saturday
night, they enjoyed as a day of rest in the main camp. After their work
of the preceding six days, they were all glad enough to spend the day
quietly about the wagon--resting, reading, writing up their diaries, and
listening to the reports of Jan Kokerboom and his subordinates. Nothing
had happened to disturb the quiet tenor of life in camp during the
absence of the gold-seekers. Nothing had been seen or heard of
Engelbrecht or his followers, although a vigilant watch had been
maintained, and the neighbouring country occasionally patrolled. Jan
Kokerboom had shot a leopard one night, close to the camp fire, as it
clawed down the venison of a koodoo which had been recently slain. The
brute, stretching itself up to the low branch of a tree on which the
venison hung, within fifteen feet of the camp fire, had been observed by
Jan. Snatching up his rifle he shot it in the throat, breaking its
spine, and instantly ending its predatory career.
For three weeks the gold-diggers steadily pursued their search.
Thoroughly exploring the river-side, they were occasionally delayed for
several days together by the finding of some unexpectedly rich deposit
in the banks of the stream, or some smooth spit of sand, left bare
during the absence of the rains. The heap of gold which they were
accumulating each day near the foot of the ladder was steadily assuming
large proportions. In another week or two, Mr. Blakeney, who had
carefully weighed their finds every evening, calculated that they would
literally have made their pile, and be ready to trek for the coast and
home.
*Chapter XVII.*
*THE SHADOWERS' ATTACK.*
Towards the end of the fourth week of the search, while the diggers were
at work at the far end of the kloof, they were startled one morning by
the figure of a man running up the valley towards them.
"Hallo!" cried Guy excitedly, as he paused from his work with the pick
and stretched his back; "who on earth is this coming our way? Look,
uncle! I believe it's Jan!"
Mr. Blakeney shaded his eyes and looked down the kloof.
"Yes," he said, after regarding the figure attentively, "it's Jan. What
can he want? He must have news of importance. I suppose it's Karl
Engelbrecht again."
Jan Kokerboom, who presently trotted up, had news undoubtedly, and news
that was disturbing. On the previous afternoon, Seleti (who had, under
Mr. Blakeney's instructions, been exploring the country for any signs of
Engelbrecht and his gang) had come across the spoor of two mounted men,
who had evidently tracked the wagon up to the entrance of the mountains,
noted the valley up which it had passed, and, turning rein again, had
cantered away.
"Well, I expected this," said Mr. Blakeney, his brow knitted in thought.
"I never imagined that Karl Engelbrecht, who knows what we are after,
and is writhing under two nasty rebuffs, would give up his revenge or
leave his thirst for plunder unsatisfied. These men, who have shadowed
us all the way from the coast, are shadowing us still. We shall have to
look out for their next assault, which, I believe, will be a desperate
one. The business now is to find out how many there are of them, and
what their plans may be.
"Sit down, lads," he continued, filling and lighting his pipe; "we'll
knock off for a spell.--Poeskop," he went on, speaking in Dutch, "you
must go back with Jan, climb the ladder, take two or three days'
supplies of biltong with you, and go and look up Karl Engelbrecht. If
they are still shadowing us, you must just shadow them. Find out, if
you can, when they mean to have a shot for us, and then cut back as fast
as your legs can carry you and give us warning. We must be prepared for
them, and I've no doubt we shall be able to give them a pretty hot
reception."
The curious wrinkling of the yellow skin of Poeskop's face, and the
humorous twinkle that showed in his Mongol-like eyes, convinced the
three white men that the task proposed was thoroughly to the Bushman's
liking. His splendid white teeth gleamed expressively as he broke into
a wide grin of satisfaction.
"Ja, baas," he said; "I shall becreep them. Poeskop was not bred a
Bushman for nothing; and he will spy out Karl Engelbrecht's camp, and
find out what he means to do, and when he is going to attack. He has
had two hard knocks already; we shall give him a third, which will make
him what you call 'sit up.' But baas must have a care: this time Karl
will do his hardest to kill us all and take the gelt."
The two natives now started back for the ladder and the main camp. Mr.
Blakeney and the two boys continued the work of digging till afternoon,
when, taking with them the gold they had found that day, they made their
way back to the foot of the cliff. Here, adding their nuggets to the
heap already accumulated, they climbed the ladder, and found themselves
once more in the security of their own camp. Nothing further had
happened that day, and Poeskop had long since started away on his
journey of reconnaissance.
Meanwhile it is necessary to return to Karl Engelbrecht and his
proceedings. After the escape of Guy from his camp, the death of the
Griqua, his own repulse by Guy and Poeskop, and the wounding of another
of his men, the Boer, although raging furiously at the ill-success of
his schemes, had felt himself scarcely strong enough to attack a party
who were evidently quite capable of defending themselves. In this
feeling he was strengthened by his colleague in rascality, Antonio
Minho, who by no means relished the business of attacking the English
party, except with a much superior force.
Engelbrecht knew of a commando of Boers who had been away in the country
to the north, engaged on a punitory and marauding expedition against a
tribe of natives. He calculated that, by trekking steadily for ten
days, he would intercept this party on their return journey. His
calculations were rightly made, and he fell in with his freebooting
fellow-countrymen returning to Humpata in triumph and great spirits.
They had had, from their point of view, a first-rate time, having
thoroughly subdued the tribe against which they had marched, killed a
number of unfortunate natives, burnt their corn and crops, and captured
some two thousand head of cattle.
Karl, who was hand and glove with these men, whom he had often himself
led on commando, had no great difficulty in persuading some of them to
accompany him on a fresh expedition of plunder. He held out high
inducement in the shape of gold, which, it was known, the Englishmen
were in search of; and the plan of inflicting revenge and humiliation on
men of that accursed nation had, in addition, no small weight with the
British-hating filibusters. Eight stalwart Boers, then, with two wagons
and a number of well-armed native servants, signified their intention of
aiding Karl Engelbrecht in his new campaign, and sharing the rich booty
which they counted on lifting from the Englishmen. Halting for a few
days to rest and recruit their trek oxen and horses, the party returned
upon Engelbrecht's wagon spoor, and presently found themselves at the
place where the Englishmen had last been sighted.
It was not difficult to hit off the wagon spoor of the gold-seekers'
party; and now, eager to come to grips with their opponents, of whom
they counted on making an easy prey, the Boers presently came in sight
of the mountains wherein the Englishmen were so busily engaged in
gathering the fortune that lay awaiting them.
Halting at this point, Engelbrecht with one of his Boer allies had
ridden into the valley and convinced himself that here, at last, he had
run the hated Englishmen to ground. Somewhere in these rude hills his
foes were at work. It would be his business to trace them to their gold
deposits, to locate accurately their camp, and then, descending upon
them some morning at early dawn, attack them in such overwhelming force
as to effectually beat down all opposition. Revenge--a bloody revenge,
Karl meant it to be--was within his grasp; and gold--plenty of it,
captured from his enemies--would, he firmly believed, make a man of him
for the remainder of his life.
Already Karl saw himself back in the good Transvaal country, the owner
of some of the richest farms in Marico, with a great, a palatial,
farmstead of his own, surrounded by vast flocks and herds, and a wielder
of much power in the national Volksraad. Why, indeed--his broad chest
dilated as he thought of it--should he not aspire to like power and
prominence with Paul Kruger himself! Paul was growing old; in a few
years his course would be run, and some strong man would be needed to
take his place. Thus dreamed Karl Engelbrecht, as he rode back to his
wagon that day after spooring his adversaries to their mountain retreat,
where, as he rightly calculated, they had been now some weeks at work in
their hunt for gold.
Karl, after consultation with Antonio Minho, had soon laid his plans.
That afternoon he dispatched his most trusted spy--a Hottentot man,
Quasip by name--to spend a couple of days in exploring the interior of
the mountain and spying out the land. Quasip was to keep off the wagon
track, to creep about quietly, and to find out exactly what the
Englishmen were doing and where their camp lay.
Quasip returned at the end of two days and nights, having perfectly
accomplished his mission. He had located the English camp, observed its
situation and defensive advantages, peered over into the Gold Kloof,
noted the rope-ladder, and also the pile which the Englishmen had
accumulated, without attracting the notice or suspicion of those within
the camp. The Hottentot had entered the valley and made himself
acquainted with the Gold Kloof before Mr. Blakeney's boy Seleti had
discovered the approach of the Boers; and he had been able to accomplish
his mission and make his report to his master without detection--a clear
gain for Karl Engelbrecht and his party.
But Poeskop meanwhile, on his part, had been by no means idle. He had
located the freebooters' camp, and ascertained the strength of the Boers
and their men. Returning from his expedition, and wandering, as he
always did, hither and thither in search of any spoor or sign that might
tell of danger, he had encountered a footprint that was unknown to him:
a spy had entered the valley since the two horsemen reported by Seleti
had ridden in. Poeskop spoored the Hottentot's tracks to the vicinity
of his master's camp, and satisfied himself that his rival--for he saw
at once that he had a rival, and a very clever one--had made himself
acquainted with all their doings. He had, in fact, convinced himself
that now indeed danger threatened speedily. Returning to camp, he made
his report on the very afternoon on which Quasip the Hottentot had told
his own master of his discoveries. Both spies had accomplished their
tasks to admiration: neither had encountered the other. Yet Poeskop had
scored, inasmuch as he knew what the Boer spy knew; while the Hottentot
and his master were ignorant, thus far, that they themselves had been
spied upon.
Poeskop entered the camp, and at once unburdened himself of his
information. Mr. Blakeney was scarcely surprised. He was anticipating
attack, and had long since taken means to repel it. But it was a
serious matter to know that eight fresh Boers--men who could shoot, and
were thoroughly used to veldt fighting--were now with Karl Engelbrecht.
These, with Karl himself and Minho, would raise the white attacking
force to ten men. Add to this some six or seven natives, who could
shoot more or less well, and it was clear that the little garrison above
the Gold Kloof would have to confront almost overwhelming odds.
Still their situation was a very strong one. Any assault made upon them
must be delivered from the front. Already, behind the thick and
impenetrable fence of thorns, they had raised stone breastworks, through
or over which they could shoot while they themselves were almost
perfectly concealed. Their water supply was just behind them; and for
food, if the siege should last more than a day or two, which was very
improbable, they must sacrifice one of their spare oxen. As for arms,
they possessed enough to furnish six of their whole party with two
rifles apiece; two others would each have a rifle. There remained one
over, which would bring up their total weapons of defence to fifteen. To
these might be added four shot-guns, which, loaded with buckshot and
used at close quarters, would be of sensible assistance.
Poeskop, after a night's rest, was again dispatched on a journey of
investigation. The little Bushman was now thoroughly in his element.
He craved excitement, of which hunting and warfare represented to him
the highest forms; and he craved, and saw with prophetic eyes,
revenge--a final revenge--upon Karl Engelbrecht. He returned the same
night with serious news. The Boers had quitted their camp that
afternoon, and, leaving a sufficient guard to look after the wagons, had
ridden into the mountain. With them were six native servants, carrying
rifles. They were now resting in some thick bush at the commencement of
the first valley, about six miles away.
"That means," said Mr. Blakeney, "that they will attack us to-night or
at early morning. Well, we shall have a sleepless night; but we'll be
ready for them, anyway."
Night came; and after supper each man settled himself in his blanket by
the post assigned to him, behind the breastwork of stones. Twenty yards
beyond this extended the long and thick hedge of thorn bush which ran
right up the edge of the cliff. Beyond that, the declivity that led up
to their camp was bare for nearly two hundred yards. They had cut away
the last patches of bush on this open glacis, over which their enemies
would have to advance. They could only be outflanked by their foes
breaking through the thorn fence on the side near the precipice and
getting round that way. To guard against this contingency, Mr. Blakeney
and Tom took positions which covered that corner. Guy came next. Next
to him would be Poeskop; and on their right, again, Jan Kokerboom,
September, Seleti, and Mangwalaan. These two last, being somewhat
excitable Bechuanas, were warned against letting off their rifles too
rapidly, and were enjoined to fire slowly and take careful aim. Jan
Kokerboom, himself a cool and excellent shot, had the task of looking
after these two and September the Zulu.
It seemed an interminably long night. There was no moon, but the stars
burned overhead with a wonderful brilliancy. In their camp all was as
quiet as the grave. A low fire burned. It was Mr. Blakeney's plan to
let their assailants believe that they were all sleeping, quite unaware
of any attack to be made against them. Poeskop, at his own special
request, was abroad, away in front of their defences, creeping about in
the darkness, listening intently for any sound that should herald the
Boers' approach.
Hour after hour slipped by on leaden wings. To the watchers the tension
was very great. It seemed as if, amid all the anxiety and strain of
waiting, the night would never pass. After one o'clock Guy and Tom, in
spite of the expected assault, found it very hard to keep awake. Mr.
Blakeney let them sleep; and for an hour or two the lads enjoyed the
sweetest slumber, so it seemed to them, that they had ever experienced.
At three Mr. Blakeney awoke them. Pulling themselves together, they
found themselves presently wide awake and wonderfully refreshed and
heartened. Another hour went by, and still there was no break in the
serene peace of the African night. In a little while Poeskop, who had
been scouting all night, crept into the laager by a narrow loophole
reserved for him next the mountain wall, and crawled along the line. He
reached Guy.
"They come!" he whispered in Dutch. "Look out, baas!"
This message he repeated to Mr. Blakeney and Tom, ten and twenty yards
farther on, and then returned to his post near Guy, where his spare
rifle lay. Still no sign of their enemies. Would they never come? It
seemed to Guy, to Tom, to all of them, as if for some reason the assault
was not to be delivered. But the Boers knew their own plans, and had
excellent reasons of their own for postponing their attack.
Now in the far east the paling sky tells that day is near at hand, and
the light is perceptibly coming. A faint glow of colour shows in the
heavens; the gray east is turning to a pale green.
Hark! What was that? The hearts of the men waiting and watching beat
loudly within their breasts. Even to the boldest--and there was not a
coward in the little line of defenders--the moments of suspense before
the actual fighting begins are always trying. The sound of stealthy
footsteps could be distinguished. Certainly some one was approaching
from the front. Then suddenly, in the dim morning light, there rose from
behind the thorn fence in front of them many forms, and a number of men
began to pull down, in desperate haste and with frantic energy, the
outer line of defence. If that object were attained, and the attackers
obtained an entrance, their numbers would inevitably tell, and the
defenders would be overwhelmed.
"Shoot, my lads!" cried Mr. Blakeney, his voice ringing clear and sharp
on the still morning air. Instantly there followed the report of eight
rifles. Four of the attackers fell, and two others were slightly
hit--at twenty yards range there could be no missing; and yells of rage,
mingled with groans and curses in vehement Dutch, arose from behind the
thorns. But the Boers, surprised though they were, were by no means yet
done with. Karl Engelbrecht, standing at the middle of one line of
attack, called to his men to fire, and, taking rapid aim in front of
him, let drive. Of his ten unwounded supporters nine followed his
example, one native skulking with the wounded. The Boer volley was at
once answered by the second discharge of the little English garrison,
who, crouching behind their breastworks, had their assailants at great
advantage. Again two of the attacking force fell, while another
(Engelbrecht himself) was wounded.
The Boers and their natives had, by this time, more than enough of it.
With one consent they broke and fled, nor stayed their career till they
were out of sight. A hearty cheer rose from the defenders as they
realized their victory.
So soon as the Boers ran, Mr. Blakeney called to his men to cease
firing; and beyond the discharge of a couple of bullets, which the
impulsive Mangwalaan and his next-door neighbour Seleti sent after them
to hasten their flight, the retreating filibusters were not further
molested. When he had convinced himself that the fight was really over
and the victory won, Mr. Blakeney walked along his thin line of defence,
and asked what injuries had been sustained.
Thanks to their excellent measures of defence, the casualties of his
party had been surprisingly light. Mr. Blakeney himself had been hit in
the fleshy part of the right shoulder; but beyond some bleeding, which
Guy and Tom at once attended to, no great damage had been done. Seleti,
the most excitable of the party, who had jumped up after the first
volley and exposed himself to the Boer bullets, had sustained a nasty
wound, which had pierced his left shoulder, and left him a cripple for
weeks. Guy found himself with his hat off after the affray, and,
picking it up, discovered that it was neatly punctured, within an inch
of the top of his head, by two bullet-holes in front and rear. Tom had
the lobe of his right ear grazed. Beyond these casualties, no other
harm had been sustained by the gold-seekers.
Mr. Blakeney's flesh-wound having been washed and bound up, and Seleti's
shattered shoulder similarly treated, the English party now pulled aside
a corner of the thorn scherm and went down the line of their crippled
opponents, whose groans and cries for assistance proclaimed that there
was no further fight left in them. Three men lay dead. Among these was
the Portuguese, Antonio Minho, with a bullet through his head. A big,
burly Boer, identified by his wounded comrades as Hendrik Marais, lay
also dead, shot through the heart; and a Damara wagon-driver had been
also slain.
Of the five wounded men, three were Boers, two natives. Of these, one
of the Dutchmen, his chest pierced by a .450 bullet, died within the
hour; the remaining four had sustained wounds which, although more or
less severe, seemed quite likely to yield to treatment. Collecting the
rifles of these unfortunates, the defenders now carried the wounded men
into their own camp, and, laying them down under the shade of the wagon,
proceeded to dress their hurts. Then followed breakfast, which was
welcome enough to all.
*Chapter XVIII.*
*THE LAST OF KARL ENGELBRECHT.*
At ten o'clock, shortly after they had again attended to the wounded men
and given them some refreshment, Jan Kokerboom, who was patrolling up
and down the line of defence, called out that a man was coming up the
hill. Mr. Blakeney, Guy, Tom, and Poeskop at once ran forward, and,
mounting the stone breastwork, looked down the ascent. Sure enough, a
single figure, that of a Boer, was seen to be approaching. He carried a
rifle, to which was tied a dirty white handkerchief. Keeping their
rifles at the ready, the garrison waited until the man had walked to
within fifty yards, when Mr. Blakeney called out to him to put down his
firearm. The man obeyed, and continued to advance, still holding the
handkerchief at arm's length. The defenders now quitted their shelter
and advanced to meet him.
"What do you want?" asked Mr. Blakeney in Dutch, as the man, a big
sturdy Boer, with a red beard, came up to them.
"I've come," answered the man, "to say that my friends and I are sorry
we ever threw in our lot with Karl Engelbrecht, and we want to know who
is dead and what has happened to the wounded."
"Well, in the first place," replied Mr. Blakeney, eyeing his man
steadily, and speaking to him very coolly, "it's rather late in the day,
isn't it, to come to us in this way, after all the mischief that has
been done. Your blood is upon your own heads, of course; but I have a
shrewd suspicion that if you had caught us napping, we should have had a
pretty bad time of it. How many of us would have been alive now, do you
think, if your ruffianly friend Engelbrecht had got into our camp?"
The man actually blushed a furious red; his eyes stared at the ground in
front of him; he knew not what to say.
"I suppose," continued Mr. Blakeney, "that, now you have been beaten,
you are sorry for yourselves. It's a dirty game, surely, isn't it,
attacking men who have done you no sort of injury. I don't know whether
there's any shame left among you and your fellows, but you ought to be
ashamed of yourselves."
The man at last found voice. "Yes," he said, "we are ashamed of
ourselves, and that is why I've come to see you. I was always against
this scheme of Engelbrecht's, but I was over-persuaded. I don't mind
raiding Kaffirs, but I always said that it was a mistake going against
white men."
"Rather a poor distinction, isn't it?" queried Mr. Blakeney. "The fact
is, you back-country Boers have got into the habit of thinking that,
where you go, rifles, and rifles only, are the law and the prophets.
Sooner or later--sooner, I hope and believe, than later--you and your
folk in the Transvaal and elsewhere will have to be taught that the day
of the tyranny of the rifle is past, and that you will have to obey laws
and behave decently like civilized folk. For fifty years--since your
people left Cape Colony and entered the Transvaal--you have practically
obeyed only such laws as pleased you."