It seemed as if Hardy's anticipations were going to be fulfilled. For
more than a fortnight after the disaster on the banks of the Ingogo,
both armies remained quietly in their camps, though both were largely
reinforced. Negotiations had been opened with the English Government,
which bore every appearance of an amicable solution of difficulties. On
the afternoon of the 26th of February, Hardy went down to the British
lines, with a white flag despatched by Joubert with him, to take some
letters to George which had arrived from Dykeman's Hollow. It was some
time before he could find his friend, the whole camp being in a state of
extraordinary bustle and confusion. Officers and men were hurrying
about; one of the guns had been brought out, the horses already
harnessed, and the gunners and drivers belonging to it were all in
readiness, it appeared, for some immediate movement. Every face bore
token that something of grave importance was about to take place.
"What does this mean, George?" asked Hardy as they shook hands. "Sir
George Colley cannot anticipate an attack. Everything in the Boer camp,
which I have only just left, is quite quiet, and the peace negotiations
are proceeding prosperously."
"I cannot tell you, Hardy, what it does mean," answered George. "I hear
vague rumours, but they are not to be trusted. One thing, however, is
certain, and that is that Sir George Colley cannot get over his defeats
by these Boers. I fancy he at first entertained the same contempt for
them which English people generally feel. He thought that they were a
race of cowards, who would shoot down helpless savages from a safe
distance, but dared not face soldiers in a field of battle."
"We have already agreed that that is a mistake," observed Hardy. "Their
mode of fighting is quite different from ours. They have no disciplined
troops, as we have; and if they were to face us, as Sir George expects,
on a field of battle, must inevitably suffer defeat. But they are brave
and resolute men, and fight after their own fashion; which is as
dangerous and disastrous to our troops as our mode of lighting would be
to them."
"Exactly," said Rivers; "and Sir George has chosen to fight after their
fashion instead of ours, and these disasters have been the consequence.
But that does not reconcile him to them. He is afraid that peace will
be made before he has any opportunity of redeeming his military
reputation, which he thinks has been terribly damaged by Laing's Nek and
the action on the Ingogo. He wants to give them one tremendous
thrashing before peace is concluded and the opportunity is lost."
"I can well understand that," said Hardy, "though I think he is quite
wrong. But do I understand you to mean that the preparations which I
see going on are for another attack on the Boers? Really I do not think
that would be a defensible proceeding. If there has been no formal
suspension of hostilities, there is a tacit understanding to that
effect, which the Boers have most faithfully adhered to."
"I am afraid the preparations do mean that," answered George, "though,
of course, I have made no inquiries, nor has any one volunteered the
information. I think Sir George means to attack the Boer camp again,
though probably he will choose a different quarter from which to assail
it."
"It is to be hoped he will, at all events," rejoined Hardy, "unless he
wishes exactly the same results to follow as before. Well, we shall
soon know what is going to happen, for here come Sir George and his
staff. They are evidently about to set out somewhere."
"Come to the high ground on the west of the camp," suggested Rivers.
"You can see the whole road to the Dutch lines from it, and some of the
waggons immediately under Amajuba hill."
"Amajuba hill," repeated Hardy. "Is that the name of that steep hill
yonder, with a flattish top, which completely overlooks the camp? I
wonder the Dutch have not occupied it, I must say. Sir George's
position here wouldn't be tenable if they did. But then, to be sure,
they have no cannon. Well, I may as well go with you as you propose,
for, of course, if your conjecture is correct, I should not be allowed
to leave the English camp."
They took up their position accordingly, and presently saw the troops,
seven or eight hundred in number, move out with the gun which Hardy had
seen an hour or two before, the most complete silence being observed.
The darkness was already coming on when they set out, and before long it
became impossible to distinguish any object, except those close at hand.
"Sir George must intend a night attack," said Hardy; "but, independently
of all other considerations, the Boers are less likely to be thrown into
confusion by that than our own troops are. They are taught to fight
independently of one another. Every man takes up his own position and
shifts for himself. If they are disturbed in the middle of the night,
they will simply get up,--ready dressed, for they always lie down in
their clothes,--take their rifles, pick out the securest spot they can
find, and open fire on any enemy they see. Well, George, we had better
stay here awhile and see what comes of this. If night fighting is
intended, we shall soon know all about it."
Rivers assented. They were as conveniently placed as they could well be
for learning what was going on. There was a hollow in the rock large
enough to shelter them from wind and rain, if either should come on, and
a quantity of moss and heather would make a comfortable bed, if they lay
down to sleep. They agreed that they would keep alternate watch through
the night, so that nothing that might occur should escape their notice.
The night, however, passed without disturbance, and when the morning
dawned it revealed an unexpected spectacle. The British force was
clearly to be discerned, by the first beams of the sun, stationed on the
top of the Amajuba hill, the ascent of which must have occupied the
hours of darkness. It must have been a most difficult and perilous
undertaking, and it seemed wonderful that it could have been
accomplished in the dark, and without arousing the vigilance of the
Boers, who were encamped in the immediate vicinity. There they were,
however,--the scarlet uniforms forming bright spots against the
background of rock and sky,--and the brass gun, which, by a marvel of
engineering skill, had been dragged up the precipitous steeps, sparkling
in the sun, as it was fixed in its position, commanding the camp of the
sleeping Boers below.
"How in the world can they have managed that?" exclaimed Rivers.
"Nothing but a bird, I should have thought, could get up there. The
gun, of course they must have hoisted up after them. It is a most
daring exploit; but I suppose Sir George has got the upper hand of them
now."
"I am not so sure of that," rejoined Hardy. "I grant you this is as
bold and venturous a feat as ever has been attempted in war. But I
don't know that it will succeed against these Boers. You see, though
they have taken possession of the heights, they have not intrenched
themselves. The broken masses of rock furnish a cover behind which
sharpshooters may hide themselves while they fire on the enemy. But the
Boers will be able to fire up at them quite as securely as they will be
able to fire down at the Boers. And if the Boers, whose numbers greatly
exceed theirs, clamber up on all sides, under cover of the fire of their
friends, there is nothing to keep them back. Our men will be
overpowered by weight of numbers. I wish I could see them begin to
intrench themselves, but there is no sign of it. I hope we are not
going to see the Isandhlwana disaster acted over again."
"I suppose they must have been too tired, when they got up there last
night to throw up intrenchments," remarked George.
"Very likely indeed," returned Hardy, "but they do not appear to be too
tired this morning. If they are wise, they will not begin firing until
they have made their position safe."
Meanwhile on the summit of the hill there was triumph and rejoicing.
The soldiers had felt keenly the defeats which they had again and again
sustained at the hands of an enemy for whom they had entertained a
traditional contempt, and who, they were persuaded, if they could once
bring them to a fair encounter, would fly before them. But they had
been shot down from behind cover, without the chance being given them of
returning their adversaries' fire. But here, at last, the tables were
turned. They occupied now the vantage-ground from which the foe might
be assailed without the risk of suffering retaliation. A genuine
British cheer broke forth as the gun opened on the slumbering Dutchmen
below, followed by bursts of merriment as the sleepers started up in
alarm and confusion, rushing in all directions to find protection from
the deadly hail from above. But they did not take to immediate flight,
as their assailants had expected. Niching themselves in the hollows of
the rocks or behind the mountain ridges, they opened a fire from all
directions on the occupants of the hill, obliging these to keep close
behind the cover of the rocks as the only mode of escaping the storm of
musketry that continued to be poured upon them. No attempt, however,
was made to dislodge them, and it was obvious that, if they retained
their position on the crest of the hill, the Boer camp must be broken
up, leaving the way open for the British troops to enter the Transvaal.
But the English had been once more deceived by the skilful manoeuvring
of their enemies. Under cover of a tall cliff which interposed between
them and Amajuba hill, the Boer leaders were determining their plan of
operations.
"I am sure one of the paths is practicable," Vander Heyden was saying.
"It is on the opposite side to that by which the English made their way
to the top, and I think it most likely that they know nothing of it. It
is completely sheltered from their fire until you are close to the top,
and there is a hollow near that where a number of men may be massed.
Our adversaries, with their usual contempt for their enemies, have
omitted to intrench themselves or fortify their position. There would
probably not be more than half a dozen men keeping guard at the point in
question. A rush of a dozen or twenty would force the way in, and then
the others would follow. As there is no shelter or means of escape
except down the steep sides of the hill, they must all surrender or be
killed."
"Do you yourself know the way up the path, Vander Heyden?" asked the
Boer general.
"Yes," answered Henryk; "I have twice been up to the top that way to
make an examination of the English camp."
"Then I think you are the man to lead the assault. What say you?"
"I desire nothing better," returned Vander Heyden, the dark light, which
had become habitual with him at seasons of danger, flashing in his eyes.
"Good. Who is there prepared to follow you?"
There was no lack of volunteers; and Vander Heyden's only difficulty
consisted in his unwillingness to reject any. Presently the number was
made up. Orders were given to the sharpshooters in ambush to pour their
fire more hotly on every crevice of the rocks above, so as to engage as
much as possible the attention of the garrison.
Then Vander Heyden, rifle in hand, crept cautiously and silently up the
rocky ladder, pausing continually to allow those behind him to approach
closely to him, until the hollow place, of which he had spoken, was
reached, and a dozen of his most trusted followers assembled in it.
Then the word was given. The foremost of the party rushed round the
corner of the rock, poured in a close fire, and pressed on to force the
passage. For the moment they succeeded, but the next a shout was
raised, and a bayonet charge met the assailants, bearing them back and
almost forcing them down the rocky descent. But more of the Dutchmen
had now come on the scene. A second volley cleared the way, and the
assailants rushed in in ever-increasing numbers. Presently the whole
plateau had become a battlefield, and the English, outnumbered and borne
back by the overwhelming mass of Boers, were either shot down, or made
their escape by the steep mountain paths, followed by their victorious
enemies, who stabbed and shot them down without mercy. If the guns from
the camp had not opened their fire and checked the pursuit, it is
probable that scarcely any of the British soldiers who had climbed those
heights on the previous evening would ever have descended them again,
unless as corpses carried to interment.
About the centre of the plateau a group of Boers were gathered round an
English officer, who had been struck by a bullet which apparently had
instantly killed him. Vander Heyden directed them to take off the
leather helmet which partially concealed his features.
"It is he!" he exclaimed, as his order was obeyed. "That is the English
general; that is Sir George Colley."
He had scarcely uttered the words when a stray bullet struck him in the
breast, and he fell to the ground beside his prostrate enemy. His
companions raised him in their arms and earned him down the hill to a
room in an adjoining farmhouse, where his wound was examined by a
surgeon. The latter shook his head after a brief inspection. The
bullet had not touched either heart or lungs; but the internal
haemorrhage could not be stopped, and life could not be long protracted.
Vander Heyden himself was aware of his condition. He made no other
request than that a flag of truce might be sent to the English lines,
asking permission for the Reverend George Rivers, who was serving, he
was informed, as a chaplain in the camp, to visit him on his deathbed.
The request was granted; and in an hour's time after the conclusion of
the fight Rivers entered the chamber where he was lying.
Vander Heyden raised himself as well as he was able to greet him, and
desired that the room might be cleared.
"George," he said when this had been done, "I am glad you have come.
There is no time to lose, for I feel that death is very near. You
remember our conversation about my sister many months ago near Intombe."
"It is not likely that I should forget it," answered George.
"I told you two things--first, that my father had forbidden me to give
her in marriage to an Englishman; and secondly, that if she did marry
one, she would forfeit the whole of her inheritance."
"That is what you said."
"And I said no more than the fact. But I thought even then, and I am
now more fully persuaded of it, that my father was mistaken in the
resolution to which he came. The English had been harsh and unjust to
us. But every Englishman is not harsh and unjust; and if my sister has
chosen--as in my heart I believe she has--a generous and upright man, it
is hard that she should be denied her wish merely because he was an
Englishman."
He paused a moment to recover breath, and then went on.
"Men alter strangely. A twelvemonth ago I thought it impossible I could
ever feel as I do now. And if I had married, and had children to follow
in my steps, I do not think I could have so altered. But that hope died
out and could never be revived, and Annchen's future was all I had to
care for. She does not know my change of feeling. When I took leave of
her last night, I felt assured that I was parting from her for the last
time, though I could not tell her so; but this letter will convey to her
my dying wishes. I have drawn up a fresh will, by which everything is
left to her and to you. Give me your hand."
They exchanged a cordial grasp. "Now, Rivers," he continued, "we will
speak no more of this. But you must remain with me to the end."
There is no need to dwell on what followed. Vander Heyden lingered for
an hour, and then passed away quietly, without pain, remaining conscious
to the last. When all was over, George gave the order, as his friend
had desired him to do, for the conveyance of the body to the
burying-ground at Utrecht, where the remains of the hapless Lisa van
Courtlandt had been deposited. He himself accompanied the corpse as
chief mourner, and saw the funeral rites performed. Then he proceeded
to Newcastle, and sought an interview with Annchen, with whom his mother
and Thyrza were now staying. They had gone over, by his request, to
convey to her the melancholy tidings, and had remained at her earnest
entreaty to comfort her.
She did indeed feel unutterably desolate. Her brother and Frank Moritz
had been her only near relatives, and of both these she had been
bereaved; and the man who, she felt, might have been nearer and dearer
than any, was hopelessly separated from her by Henryk's decree. His
wishes had always been law to her while he lived; and, now that he had
been taken from her for ever, her only satisfaction in life would be to
fulfil his pleasure. When the message was brought to her that George
desired an interview, she was at first unwilling to grant it. It was
possible that he might renew his suit, considering all obstacles to
their union as being now removed; and if so, their meeting would be
needlessly painful. It was only when Thyrza told her that her brother
was the bearer of a letter, which Henryk had sent her from his dying
bed, that she consented to receive him.
She was sitting near the window when he entered. Her black dress
rendered the dazzling fairness of her complexion more remarkable. Even
the look of unutterable sadness seemed to enhance her beauty. He went
slowly up to her, took her hand and pressed it to his lips, and then
without speaking, placed the letter in her hands. Her tears fell fast
over it as she opened it, and it seemed as if they must have prevented
her from deciphering its contents; for she twice read it through without
appearing to understand its purport. At last a faint flush on her cheek
and a strange light in her eye told him that she had realised the
meaning of her brother's words. She sat for a few minutes with her eyes
fixed on the ground, and then looked up into her lover's face, as if
seeking there a confirmation of the wondrous joy that had broken thus
suddenly upon her. His smile seemed to satisfy her. She rose and threw
herself into his arms.
"Oh, George," she exclaimed, "is it wicked, at a time of sorrow like
this, to feel so happy?"
"It is what he wished," answered Rivers. "It was the thought which
comforted him at the last."
A few days afterwards, Annchen joined the family circle at Dykeman's
Hollow, when it was found that she was not the only bride to whom
congratulations were due. George had taken an early opportunity of
explaining to his mother and stepfather--to whom the former referred
him--the change that had taken place in his circumstances. He was now,
or would shortly be, the owner of Pieter's Dorf and Vander Heyden's
other property, and, for a resident in that country, a very wealthy man.
It was his wish to surrender all interest in his mother's estate in
favour of Thyrza. At the same time he pleaded the cause of his friend
Redgy Margetts. He had known, he said, for some time past that he was
deeply attached to Thyrza, and had reason to believe that she was not
indifferent to him. If that should prove to be the case, might not a
second marriage take place? Mr Rogers had been consulted, and had
declared himself so well satisfied with Margetts, that he was willing to
put him into the farm hitherto occupied by George--which was already in
a thriving state, with every prospect of improvement. Here he and
Thyrza might live, until the time came when Umtongo would be their own.
Farmer Mansen heard his stepson to the end,--he had never, indeed, been
known to interrupt any one,--and then answered that he and his wife had
already spoken together on this subject, and had no fault to find with
Mr Margetts. But it would be impossible for them to accept him as a
suitor for Thyrza, because Mynheer Rudolf Kransberg had been received in
that capacity, and no decisive answer had as yet been given him. To
this George replied that he had had some conversation with Thyrza on the
subject, and she had informed him that young Kransberg had never visited
her since the day when he himself had left Umtongo, and as that was
fully nine months ago, Thyrza had concluded he had abandoned all idea of
seeking her as his wife.
"She is too hasty," remarked Ludwig. "Nine months are no unreasonable
time for a Dutch suitor to delay; we do not do things in this country in
a hurry. She cannot allow the addresses of a new suitor, until the old
one has been formally dismissed."
"But, good gracious! how long is that to go on?" pleaded George. "He
may pay another visit six months hence, and another a twelvemonth after
that. And Thyrza may be an old maid before she has the opportunity of
relieving herself from the attentions of her admirer by refusing him."
"You do not understand our customs," said Ludwig sedately. "We do
everything deliberately."
This reply George was obliged to transmit to Margetts, by whom, it needs
not to say, it was not received with much satisfaction. Redgy, in fact,
propounded a variety of schemes for bringing Rudolf von Kransberg up to
the scratch, the mildest of which was lassoing him after the fashion of
the South American hunters and conveying him in that condition to
Thyrza's presence, when she would avail herself of the opportunity of
giving her inamorato his _conge_. All these were rejected by George and
Thyrza, and the dissatisfaction of the baffled suitor every day waxed
more grievous to behold, when one day he chanced to encounter Hardy in
the street at Newcastle, and learned from him that Rudolf Kransberg was
not only paying his addresses to Gretchen Groetweld, the plump and
comely daughter of the Landrost of Lichtenberg, but, it was generally
believed, had been accepted by her.
"I met him riding down the street," said Hardy, "dressed in his best
holiday suit, and a large nosegay in his buttonhole. He was mounted on
a showy horse,--`the courting horse,' as they call it,--which he made
amble and prance down the street to the great admiration of the
spectators. Presently he drew up at Mynheer Groetweld's door, when the
worthy burgess greeted him with ceremonious politeness and requested him
to enter. I heard from the Landrost, who delayed a few minutes to speak
to me, that Mistress Gretchen is well satisfied with her sweetheart, and
the formal betrothal is straightway to take place."
This intelligence, which was presently confirmed by Mynheer Groetweld
himself, overcame even Ludwig Mansen's punctilio; and Reginald Margetts
and Thyrza were allowed to plight their troth to one another.
Mr Rogers, who had always felt a warm interest in the Mansens, and who
latterly conceived a still warmer regard for Rivers and Margetts, was
much pleased at the course which events had taken. Notwithstanding the
recent death of Henryk Vander Heyden, it was not thought advisable to
postpone for more than a few weeks Rivers' and Annchen's wedding; and
the Mansens agreed that Redgy and Thyrza should be married on the same
day, the chapel attached to Mr Rogers' house being chosen as the place
where both ceremonies were to be performed.
The guests were limited to the near relatives of the brides, the only
exception being Hardy, who arrived on the wedding morning, bearing the
intelligence that the terms between the English Government and the Boers
had been finally arranged. The suzerainty of the Queen was to be
maintained, but, apart from this, the most complete independence was
conceded to the Transvaal Republic, all the terms for which they had
stipulated being fully granted.
"Well," said Mr Rogers, "I never thought I should live to regret the
reversal of that most mischievous and ill-judged of measures, the
annexation of the Transvaal, but I have lived to regret it nevertheless.
It appears to me that every blunder that was possible has been made.
First of all, advantage is taken of a temporary reverse to impose on a
nation a yoke which they are supposed to desire, but which they really
dislike. Then, when reasonable and respectful petitions are presented,
pointing out that the step is to the injury of both countries, and
praying that it might be undone, they are curtly refused. Then, when
the aggrieved citizens take up arms to compel the recognition of their
rights, an attempt is made to crush them by force of arms, but the
campaign is conducted in such a manner as to give them an easy and
certain victory. I don't suppose the Tenth Legion of Caesar, or the Old
Guard of Napoleon, or Wellington's Peninsular veterans, could have done
anything but stand to be killed, if they had been led into action as our
soldiers were. And lastly, when the prestige of England has suffered so
seriously that a victory (which could easily have been gained) has
become imperatively necessary for its restoration, all that had been
refused to moderate entreaty is granted to defiant and almost insolent
demand! I don't suppose the injury that has been done to British
ascendancy in South Africa will be undone in less than fifty years, if
it is undone then! Well, things are at their worst now; and when they
have come to the worst, then the proverb says they will begin to mend!
That must be our comfort, for I am afraid we have no other!"
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