But the Boers had received so severe a lesson that they did leave the
garrison severely alone for nearly a month, save that there were often
sharp encounters between patrols and the foraging parties which made a
dash whenever there was a chance of capturing something for the military
larder.
It had come to the colonel holding a private council, at which the
doctor was present to give his opinion how long it would be before the
wounded men would be sufficiently strong to undertake a night march and
then push on to try and join hands with the nearest post held by our
forces.
"If we could feed the lads as they ought to be fed, in about a month,"
replied the doctor quietly. "Going on as we are now--never." The
colonel started from his seat. "Do you mean this, Emden?" he said
excitedly. "The men's appearance speaks for itself. It is all the
healthy can do to keep body and soul together; the wounded are at a
standstill."
"No, no," said the colonel warmly; "all of our officers, though
certainly weak, have returned to their duty."
"Yes," said the doctor; "but then they all partook more of a certain
essence than the men do. The poor fellows had done marvellously well,
and the more educated, better-class fellows compare wonderfully well
with those of a lower station; but there is that difference."
"And pray what is the wonderful essence, doctor?" said Captain Edwards,
smiling.
"_Esprit de corps_, my dear sir," said the doctor.
"Well," cried the colonel, "then you have settled it, doctor. We are
not going to surrender."
"No!" came in chorus.
"We can't go and leave our weak ones behind."
"No!" came with double the force.
"We are too much reduced in available men to run any risks." There was
no reply to this, and the colonel continued: "Then there is nothing else
to be done, gentlemen, but take up another hole in our belts, keep on
sending messages when we can get a Kaffir runner, and wait patiently for
help."
As the officers sauntered away from the rough hut which had been built
in a niche for the colonel, Roby was limping along with the aid of a
stick and Lennox's arm, while Dickenson was rolling up a cigarette
composed of the very last dust of his tobacco, ready to hand it to the
captain, who suffered a good deal still from the bullet wound, the
missile having passed right through his thigh. They had to pass two of
their men, seated upon a rock in a shady corner, one of them being minus
his right leg, which had been removed half-way between knee and hip; the
other was recovering very slowly from a bullet wound in the face, an
injury which had mended very slowly and kept him low-spirited, fretful,
and ready to affect the companionship of one as fretful and as great a
sufferer as himself. The group of officers stopped to say a few kind
words to the men, and then, having nothing hopeful to hold out for their
comfort, passed on.
"See that Captain Roby?" said the one-legged man.
"Of course I do."
"Well, I did have some hopes of him as being a man, but he isn't. He's
a sneak, that's what he is--a sneak."
"Better not let him hear you say so," said the other.
"Tell him if you like."
"Tell him yourself."
"You know how he let on about Mr Lennox running away in the fight?"
"Oh yes, of course; but it was all a mistake. He was off his head,
Captain Roby was."
"Tchah! Not he. It was all true, but the captain wouldn't hold to it.
They hang together, these officers, and make things up, so that when
their turn comes to be in trouble the others back them. I was out here
the other day, and old Roby came doing the civil and asking me how I
was, so I rounded upon him about giving up saying Mr Lennox was a
coward. What do you think he says?"
"Said you were cracked."
"Yes; only he said mad. What do you think of that?"
"That he ought to have said you were a sneak and a cur," said the man,
getting up and walking away, but only to stop and turn round. "Look
here, corporal," he said; "take a bit of advice. Drop that altogether,
or some day the chaps may turn upon you and forget that you're a
crippled man, and give you what you don't like."
"Why?" cried Corporal May wrathfully.
"Because every one of us thinks Mr Lennox is about the pluckiest fellow
in the regiment, and would follow him into the hottest fire the enemy
could get up."
Affairs, after gliding sluggishly along for months, began to move
swiftly now. Two weeks after there was an announcement that a Kaffir, a
despatch-runner, had reached the kopje, and he was hurried before the
officers, to prove to be the Zulu who had brought in the warning of the
last attack. He had fresh news now--that once more the Boers had been
reinforced, and that they had received three heavy guns. Preparations
were again made for the reception of the enemy, but the men moved about
looking grave and stern. The old hopeful elasticity seemed gone.
Dickenson noted this, and called Lennox's attention to it.
"Yes," he said; "but the first shouts will rouse them, and they'll fight
as well as ever."
"Of course," said Dickenson. "Still, one can't help feeling dull."
There was no attack that night; but the scouts had reports to make of
the advance of the enemy from all the laagers, and the next morning soon
after sunrise half-a-dozen Boers rode up under the white flag--their
leader being blindfolded and led into the colonel's presence, with the
other officers gathered round.
"I have come from our general with a message," said the Boer officer
shortly. "He knows that you are all nearly starved, and that the kopje
is covered with sick and wounded. He tells me to say he does not wish
to attack and shoot you all down, though you deserve it. He says he
will be merciful, and gives you ten minutes to consider whether you will
haul down and surrender. What am I to tell him?"
"Tell the officer who sent you that we do not want ten seconds to
consider, and that we do not know how to haul down the British colours.
Let him come here and drag them down himself."
"What do you mean?" said the man roughly, and opening his eyes wider
than was his wont in wonder.
"War!" cried the colonel sternly, and he signalled to those who had
brought the messenger to re-tie the bandage across his eyes and lead him
back through the lines.
Two hours later a heavy gun began the attack, one which was to be no
night surprise entailing a heavy loss to the assailants, but a slow,
deliberate shelling of the gallantly defended place to destruction;
while now the difficulty was felt by the garrison for the first time of
how to reply, for the new guns which had come upon the scene were served
with smokeless powder, and the best glasses failed to show whence the
bursting shells had come.
The officers had nothing to do on the kopje but keep going about among
their men in the trenches and behind the walls, to say a few encouraging
words and insist upon them not exposing themselves, for it was waste of
cartridges to use a rifle; while the firing from the big gun and its
smaller brothers too was infrequent for the reasons above given. Hence
it fell about that more than once the officers paid what may be called
visits from time to time, just to exchange a few words, and on one of
these occasions Captain Roby, who walked fairly well with a stick,
joined Lennox and Dickenson.
"This is cheerful," he said. "Did you over know anything more
exasperating?"
"Horrible!" said the two young men in a breath. "What's the chief going
to do?" added Dickenson.
"I've just come from him," replied Roby. "Nothing. What can he do but
hold the dogs of war in leash until the Boers think they have shelled us
enough, and come on?"
"Nothing, of course," said Dickenson, carrying on the captain's simile;
"but the dogs are grinding their teeth, and when the enemy does come, by
Jingo! he'll find them pretty sharp."
Hour after hour the Boers kept on throwing heavy shells on to the kopje,
while the shelter was so good that not a single life was lost; but the
casualties from the shattering shells provided the doctor and his aids
with quite sufficient work, and it was with a sigh of relief that he
ceased attending to the last man brought in, for with darkness the
firing ceased.
Then came the night full of alarms with the terrible anxiety and
expectation of the assault which did not come. For, as it proved, the
Boers had been furnished with too awful a lesson in the former attack to
venture upon another surprise, with its many accidents and risks to
themselves. They preferred to wait for daylight, and with the first
pale streaks of dawn the bombarding began once more, and went on briskly
till an hour after sunrise, when the lookouts from the top of the kopje
passed the words, "Here they come."
Just about the same time the scouts came running in bearing the same
warning, and now the kopje guns began to play their parts more
effectively.
For from three directions, covered by their own pieces, quite a cloud of
the Boers could be seen approaching fast to get within rifle-range,
dismount, and then begin a careful skirmishing advance, seizing every
spot that afforded cover, completely surrounding the defenders, and
searching the kopje from side to side with a terrific fire.
This was vigorously replied to; but the advance was never for a moment
checked, the manoeuvring of the enemy being excellent, and their skill
in keeping hidden and crawling from place to place exasperating to the
defenders, for in spite of careful aiming and deliberation the Boer
losses were remarkably small.
"They mean it this time, Bob," said Lennox sadly.
"Yes, they mean it; and somehow I don't feel up to the work at all. I
didn't know I was so weak. Feel your wounds much?"
"Horribly. I can only use my glass and watch the stubborn brutes coming
on."
"Same here. I've had six shots at 'em, and then I handed the rifle back
to the Tommy who lent it to me."
"How many times did you hit?" asked Lennox.
Dickenson looked round to see if either of the men could hear him, and
then he whispered softly, "Not once."
Lennox took no notice, for he was resting his field-glass upon the rough
top of the stone wall, looking outward over the veldt.
"Well, didn't you hear what I said?"
"Yes. Don't worry," replied Lennox shortly. "Here, quick!" he cried
excitedly. "Take your glass and look straight away yonder to the left
of the laager we took."
"Eh? Yes! All right. I see. Here, send word to the chief. They're
coming on fast now; three clouds of them. Reinforcements. Why don't
those fellows make the big gun begin to talk?"
"Because they can see what I can, Bob," cried Lennox joyously. "Look
again. Lance-tips glittering in the sun. Our men. Hurrah! Strong
bodies of cavalry. Why, Bob, they'll catch the enemy in the open now.
The siege is up. Hush! Don't shout."
"Why, man? It will encourage the lads."
"And warn the enemy that help is coming. Five minutes more ignorance
will be worth anything to the relief force. I'll go to the chief at
once."
There was no need. Almost at that moment the colonel had caught sight
of the lance-tips through his glass; but quite ten minutes more--minutes
crowded with excitement--elapsed before the attacking party were aware
of the danger in their rear, and then came the terrible reverse. Boers
began running back to where their ponies were being held out of
rifle-shot, but running in vain, for the British cavalry were there
first, spurring their steeds and stampeding the ponies, sending them in
all directions prior to charging through and through the retreating
parties, and keeping up the pursuit until recalled.
Others of the relief force had meanwhile been aiming at the three
laagers, into which the infantry dashed, the first warning of this
received at the kopje being through the cessation of the shelling, for
the guns were either silenced or put out of action, the whole of the
Boer force literally melting away.
It was one of the most brilliant episodes of the war; and that night,
the supplies having come up, the relief party were hoarse with cheering
the men whom they dubbed British heroes, and all was festivity and joy.
No, not all; for during the long watches of that night, with the stars
looking piercingly through the cold, clear air, parties were out,
British and Boer, searching far and wide, and the ambulance-wagons
creaked and rattled with their terrible loads, while Doctor Emden, the
doctors of the relief expedition, and those working for the Boers were
busy till morning.
It was Lennox and his comrade who, being still only invalids, had the
forethought to make their way at sunrise to where the doctor had been
working all the night, and they found him lying utterly exhausted upon
an old greatcoat, fast asleep.
Lennox touched him gently, and he sprang up.
"Yes, all right," he said; "I'll come. How many this time?--Eh? What!
you, my dear boys? Hurt?"
"No, no, doctor; drink this," said Lennox gently, and he held out a
steaming tin.
"Coffee! Eureka!" cried the doctor. "My dear boy, I began to think I
was never to taste the--ha, delicious!--infusion of the berry--again.
Ha! Another? Yes, please. No; wake up and give it to that poor fellow
there. He has been working with me all the night.--That's right," said
the doctor, after seeing his wishes fulfilled. "Ah, it's all very well
for you, my fine fellows, who have the rush and dash and wild excitement
of battle, but it's horrible for us who have all the cold-blooded
horrors afterwards. You have the show and credit too, and the rewards."
"But we have the wounds too, doctor," said Lennox.
"To be sure, my dear boy; to be sure. Don't take any notice of what I
say. I'm worn out. We get our rewards too, in the shape of the brave
fellows' thanks. But if those people at home who shout for war only
knew what it means when the fight is over, they'd alter their tune. But
I say, this day's work ought to bring it to an end."
It did, in the Groenfontein district; and for Colonel Lindley's
battle-scarred, hunger-weakened veterans there came a time of rest and
peace.
By way of postscript to this narrative of South African adventure, here
is the letter received from Mark Roby by Drew Lennox soon after the
voyage home and the ovation which he and his comrades had received in
their march through London streets:
My Dear Lennox,--I have just seen the _Gazette_, and am of course
delighted to find the word "Major" prefixed to my name. I do not write
out of vanity; it is from the sincere desire to be one of the first to
congratulate my brave old companion in arms, Drew Lennox, V.C. Bravo!
You deserved it. May I live to see you a general, with a lot more
orders on your breast. But there is something more I want to say. I
dined with Bob Dickenson and old Sawbones last evening, and in the chat
after dinner over the promotions Dickenson told me about that episode
which occurred after I was bowled over by that shot and you saved my
life, according to your noble custom. When Bob D. told me how I accused
you of being a coward, I felt quite knocked over. Of course it is as
Emden says--I was, in a way, mad as half-a-dozen hatters, and enough to
make me, with a part of my something or another--I forget what the
doctor called it, but he meant brain-pan--bent in on my thinking
apparatus. You a coward! Why, I confess now that a petty feeling of
jealousy often worried me, through every one thinking so much of you and
the way in which you always came up smiling after no end of brave
doings. A coward! My word! Why didn't you punch my head? There, I
don't say forgive me, because I know you do one who is proud to call you
his best and bravest friend. That last is what I told Bob Dickenson you
were, and he looked quite proud. You will be glad to hear that my wound
is quite healed up; and as to the lump on my skull, the absolute truth,
honesty, and sincerity of every word in this letter must show you that
there is no trouble as to my knowing what I say.--Yours always, my dear
Lennox, Mark Roby. Captain Drew Lennox, V.C.