"Let us stop here a few moments, Guy," said Jack, when the two had
advanced some twenty yards from the mimosa clump in which they had left
Mrs Robb and her infant to wait for them. "That is evidently the gun
up there at the top, and tied to the wheels are, I suppose, Mr Hunter
and your father. Now how are we going to rescue them! It isn't likely
that the Boers will have left them unguarded. You can see for yourself
that there is a camp away there on the left, for their fires are burning
brightly. And in addition to the men there within easy call, there are
certainly others near the gun."
"Yes, there are sure to be pickets close to the top, for the garrison of
Ladysmith might make a sortie at any moment," Guy answered in a low
whisper. "In Pretoria I heard that more than one gun had been put out
of action in that manner. But about these pickets--we must slip between
them. They are not likely to be awake at this hour. About three
o'clock in the morning finds them astir."
"Very well then, unsling your rifle, Guy, but do not load it. If there
is trouble you can open the magazine in a moment, but with a cartridge
in the breech, and the bolt pulled back, the slightest touch on the
trigger would ruin all. Are you ready? Then keep close behind me, and
if any of the Boers challenge I will leave it to you to answer them."
"Trust me, Jack, old boy," Guy whispered back. Then, feeling for his
friend's hand, he gave it a cordial grasp, which was returned as eagerly
with a squeeze which almost made him cry out with pain. "If things go
wrong, Jack," he said earnestly, "we've been good pals. You're a real
brick, old man!"
"Things are not going wrong," Jack answered grimly. "I'm going to get
them both away, or I'll know the reason why!"
For a moment longer the two young fellows stood facing one another in
the darkness, gripping each other by the hand in a manner which said
better than words could do that they were determined on one thing at
least, and that was to be true to one another to death. Then Jack
whispered, "Come along!" And, followed closely by Guy, he commenced to
climb the steep and rugged side of the hill.
At any time it was no easy task, but now, when the displacement of a
stone, or a footstep upon a piece of exposed rock, would easily have
betrayed them, it was a matter of the utmost importance that only soft
and grassy spots should be selected to put their feet upon.
By this time both were on hands and knees, and, feeling carefully in
front of him, Jack wound from side to side, sometimes going a
considerable way out of the direct course in his endeavour to find soft
ground.
It was a long and tedious climb, but at last they were within fifty feet
of the summit, where they came to a halt and looked cautiously round.
There was no one near them as far as they could see, but above them,
standing dimly silhouetted against the sky, was an immense Creuzot gun,
looking like some gigantic animal crouching on all-fours.
"Keep a bright look-out!" Jack whispered, with his mouth close to Guy's
ear. "There must be a guard somewhere close at hand."
"What is that?" Guy answered hoarsely, pointing to the left. "Surely
those are men wrapped in blankets and asleep. Yes, I am sure of it."
"Stay here a moment, and I will see," said Jack; and a second later he
was gone in the darkness, and was creeping towards the ill-defined
figures which Guy had pointed out.
It was dangerous work, but he had had a good grounding in the duties of
a scout, and now he put into practice all the cunning that Tom Salter
and his own quick wits had taught him. Lying almost flat upon the
ground, he wriggled his body between the boulders and rapidly advanced.
A few moments later he was sufficiently close, and, cautiously standing
up behind a jagged mass of rock, peeped over the top.
The sight he saw filled him with satisfaction, for, wrapped from head to
foot in blankets, were ten men fast asleep on the side of the hill.
"We ought to get past those fellows safely," he muttered, "and if there
are no more of them we might even be able to make a fight of it. By
George, there are their rifles stacked a few feet away from their heads!
It is worth the risk, and I will chance it."
Once more crawling forward, he writhed amongst the boulders, and was
soon within easy reach of the weapons, but with a boulder between
himself and the recumbent figures. At that moment, despite all his
care, the butt of his rifle struck against the rock and gave rise to a
sharp sound.
Jack immediately lay flat on the ground, and, placing his thumb on the
magazine catch, prepared to shoot a cartridge into the breech, and keep
the Boers from taking possession of their Mausers.
It was evident that one of the men was a light sleeper, for at the sound
of the butt striking the boulder he sat up on his elbow and looked
suspiciously round. Then he rose to his feet, shook off the blankets,
and strode towards the stack of rifles. Jack covered him and prepared
to shoot, but, satisfied that here there was nothing wrong, the Boer
again stopped, and then, evidently still suspicious, climbed up the hill
to the gun.
Jack followed him, and again hid himself behind a boulder some ten feet
away. As he did so, another ghostly-looking figure approached the Boer,
and demanded, in somewhat quavering tones, what was the matter. Jack
had no difficulty in following his words, for once again, with a start
of surprise and an angry snap of his teeth which boded ill for the man
should Jack find himself opposed to him, he recognised the voice of the
fat little German, Hans Schloss, who had shown himself such a bitter
hater of the English.
"That man is always coming across my path," he muttered grimly to
himself, "but let him look out this time; for if he comes between me and
my object I will put a bullet through his carcass!"
Then he sat up and craned his head to listen.
"What is the matter, Gert?" the German asked in a trembling voice, which
showed that sentry duty in front of these much-despised English was a
task he had little liking for.
"Nothing is wrong, little man," the Boer answered surlily, "but I heard
a sound, and came up here to see whether anything had happened. But
these prisoners are evidently afraid of you, Hans Schloss. Ah! you are
a gallant fighter, and to-morrow you shall help us to work this gun, and
see the English shells come bursting close at hand. It will be a fine
sight for you to watch those prisoners blown to pieces by the very men
they would wish to fight for!"
"Ha, ha, Gert! You were always funny," Hans answered, with a husky
laugh which had no merriment in it, "but to-morrow I have other work to
do. It is a misfortune, for I should dearly have loved to witness the
execution of these traitors."
"Well, keep a bright look-out, Hans," the Boer replied brusquely, "or
else you may never live to see to-morrow's light." Then he turned
about, and swung down the hill past Jack, leaving the little German
quivering with fear. Five minutes later the man addressed as Gert was
once more wrapped in his blankets, and Jack was crawling back to join
Guy.
"Come away over here," he whispered when he had reached him. "Now lie
down flat, and I will tell you what I have seen."
Then he detailed how ten Boers were sleeping upon the hill, and how Hans
Schloss was keeping guard in front.
"With a little luck we shall manage beautifully," he went on, "but there
is always the chance of one of those Boers waking up, or of Hans
discovering us. I had intended removing the stacked rifles, but it was
too risky a job when one of the men was only half-asleep. But we can do
every bit as well by separating. Are you willing to do just as I
suggest?"
"I'll do exactly as you order, Jack," Guy answered. "You're boss of
this show, and had better continue to act as such. Too many cooks spoil
the broth, old chap!"
"Very well, then, you will follow me, and I shall leave you behind a
boulder close to the sleeping Boers. When you are safely hidden there,
slip a cartridge into the breech and open the magazine. If there is an
alarm, it will be your duty to keep anyone from using those rifles, and
whatever happens you will stick to your post till I call you."
"I understand. You can rely upon me," Guy answered shortly.
"When you are in position," Jack continued, "I shall sneak up to the gun
and cut the prisoners loose. I'd give you that part of the job, Guy,
old boy, as your father is there, but I have already been up there and
know the ground. When we are ready I will slip across to you, and tell
you how matters have gone. Then we will all cut away down the hill,
fetch Mrs Robb and the kid, and strike round into the camp. Is that
all clear?"
"As clear as daylight, old horse!" exclaimed Guy, with a suspicion of
excitement in his voice. "I'm ready now. Let us set about it."
Once more creeping forward on their knees, it was not long before Jack
had guided his friend to the important post he was to occupy. Then he
left him there, and, knife in hand, climbed up the hill.
The gun was now only a few yards away, and in little more than a minute
Jack was close to it. Dropping flat upon the ground for a moment, he
waited till Hans Schloss had moved out of sight. Then he scrambled
forward and hastily dived beneath the enormous weapon. On either side
of him were the massive wheels, and through the spokes Jack made out the
figures of two men.
Rising slowly, he gently pulled the sleeve of one, and whispered in his
ear: "Be silent for your life! I am a friend."
The man gave a start, and almost cried out. Then he turned his head and
answered: "Who are you? For God's sake rescue us!"
Jack recognised the voice as Mr Hunter's, and placing his lips close to
his ear, whispered: "I am Jack Somerton. Stand still. I will cut you
loose."
Feeling along the spokes, he soon found that Mr Hunter's wrists were
lashed together to the hub of the wheel. He severed the cord with his
knife.
Then he dived beneath the gun to the other prisoner, and having told him
who he was, and that his son was close at hand, set him free also.
A moment later they were ready to start, Mr Hunter and Mr Richardson
still standing against the wheels as though their lashings were secure.
"Hush, here comes the sentry!" Mr Hunter whispered as they were about
to leave their posts.
Jack at once lay down upon the ground, and, opening the magazine of his
rifle, slipped a cartridge in in readiness, in case there should be
trouble.
A second later Hans Schloss swaggered up with his Mauser at the slope
across his shoulder, and looked closely at each of the prisoners.
"Ha, Oom Hunter and Oom Richardson!" he laughed brutally, "this is a
fine night for you. It is your last, my English friends, so make the
most of it. Well, you are securely fastened, so I will leave you alone
to think of your wives and your homes."
Neither of the prisoners deigned to answer; but, had the vindictive and
cowardly little German but known it, both were braced and ready to hurl
themselves upon him and strangle the life out of him should he discover
that their bonds were gone.
But, turning round with a sneering and cruel laugh, he walked back to
his post, and all three at the gun breathed freely again. Another
minute, and they would have hurried away, when a faint sound close in
front of them attracted Jack's attention. It was so faint that neither
of the prisoners had heard it, but Jack's trained ear told him that some
men were approaching in the darkness.
"Wait, what is that?" he asked, detaining Mr Hunter and his comrade by
the arm. "Surely the Boers are not coming up to work the gun!"
Next second all three became convinced that a large body of men was
approaching, and even Hans Schloss had his suspicions aroused. He
stopped in his lonely tramp abruptly, faced down the hill towards
Ladysmith, and brought his rifle to his shoulder. An instant later a
figure bounded into sight close in front of him, and the German fired
and turned to fly. But he was too late. The flash of the rifle lit up
the darkness, and to the astonishment of Jack and his two companions
they saw a swarm of kilted men rushing headlong at the gun, while in
front of them was the brawny giant, a fine Scotch lad from the
Highlands, at whom the German had fired. The bullet evidently found a
mark, for the soldier gave a fierce cry of anger and pain, and, bounding
forward, buried his bayonet in Hans Schloss's body, and with the
strength of a Hercules hurled him over his shoulder just as a man might
toss a bundle of hay with a pitchfork. Then someone shouted in the
darkness, "At them boys! Surround the gun and keep everyone back till
we have done the work!"
A second later there was a rush, and a hurricane of bullets swept across
the top of the hill, splashing on the gun, and making it uncommonly
uncomfortable for Jack and his friends, while the sharp crack of a
Mauser close at hand and a series of terrified cries told them that Guy
was performing his allotted task.
"Stop! Don't fire! We are English!" Jack shouted.
"Cease fire there! Steady, men! Cover these fellows till I can get a
look at them!" shouted the officer.
"Why, it's Rawlings!" Jack cried in delight, recognising the voice of
an officer he had met in Ladysmith. "Rawlings, I am Jack Somerton.
Don't let your men fire, and we will explain everything."
At this moment a dark lantern was unmasked, and the rays flashed in
Jack's face.
"By Jove, it's you right enough!" Rawlings cried. "Who are the
others?"
"Prisoners who had been tied to the gun, and whom I and a friend were
rescuing," Jack answered hurriedly. "But I'll tell you all about it
later on. The Boers are away on the left, and that is the side you had
best look to."
"Why, who's this?" the officer demanded a second later, as Guy was
brought up a prisoner and halted in front of him between two Highlanders
with fixed bayonets.
"Don't know, sir," one of the men answered shortly, with a Scotch
accent. "He was firing away like mad down the hill, and there were a
couple of dead Boers at his feet lying over a pile of rifles."
"That's my friend who was helping me, Rawlings," Jack explained hastily.
"Look here; how long are you likely to be on this hill?"
"Just as long as it takes to blow this infernal gun to pieces," the
officer coolly replied. "Why do you want to know? Can I help you?"
"Yes, we left a poor English lady and her child down there," Jack
answered, pointing down the hill. "I'll go and fetch her, and then we
will all get back together."
"That'll suit me, Somerton," Rawlings replied. "A lady in distress, old
boy, and you never need appeal twice to a soldier. Cut along then, and
get back as soon as you can. Sergeant, detail three men to help. Quick
about it, lads! Sing out when you're near again."
A minute later Jack and his escort were tearing down the hill, and
having found Mrs Robb, returned with her to their friends.
"Ah! you're there, are you, Somerton?" Rawlings cried calmly. "All
right then! slip along down the hill and we'll follow you. Now, where's
the lantern? That's it. Line the top of the hill, boys, till the fuse
begins to splutter. Then we'll run for it."
It was an exciting moment, and Jack, who had stayed behind, revelled in
it, for this was just the kind of hazardous work that he enjoyed. But
by this time the fuse was burning brightly, and the Highlanders fell
back, having placed a heavy charge of gun-cotton in the breech of the
Creuzot gun.
Five minutes later there was a loud report, and the breech had been
blown to atoms and the rifling destroyed.
But it must not be supposed that all this time the sortie party had been
left undisturbed. On the contrary, a dash, which had at first been
merely in the nature of a gallant attempt to destroy a gun which had
annoyed the garrison in the camp below, had now developed into a sharp
affair. Recovering from their first surprise, the Boers on the left of
the hill had leapt from their hard couches, and had moved upwards
against the British troops in extended order. Soon their bullets began
to swish close to the gun, and one or two of the Highlanders were
wounded. But the others lay down behind boulders, and soon their rifle
fire was answering the flashes below.
Immediately the fuse had become fairly alight the officer drew off his
men, and, carrying the wounded, moved down the hill towards the camp. A
minute later and Mrs Robb and her child were in the centre.
"Look out, sir!" the sergeant shouted at this moment; "they've got
between us and the camp!"
"Then are you ready with those bayonets?" Rawlings cried cheerfully.
"Charge right through them!"
Five minutes of wild, fierce fighting followed, for British troops,
whether English, Irish, or Scotch, are perfect demons when their blood
is roused and they are armed with that deadly weapon which none know
better how to use. It seems to be an understood thing with them that,
however much firing of guns there may be, and however thickly the
bullets may fly, matters are not satisfactory and ended as they should
be unless the bugle sounds "the charge", and they rush with a cheer and
hurl themselves upon the enemy.
The brave Highlanders, with their kilts blowing from side to side,
rushed headlong at the Boers, and simply split them into two parties.
Then they turned upon each one, and with a savage fierceness and a
splendid disregard of the danger they incurred, forged a way into them
and thrust them back at the points of the murderous bayonets.
Prominent amongst them was the giant who had ended Hans Schloss's
career, and by his side, using a bayonet which he had taken from a
wounded soldier, was Jack Somerton, using it too with a vigour and a
quickness which sent many a Boer to his last account.
"Get together there, me boys!" the Highlander by his side shouted.
"Now, at 'em! Remember Majuba, and give them a taste of your steel!"
His comrades answered with a hoarse cheer, and shouting "Remember
Majuba!" fell upon the remaining Boers and put them to flight. Then
they picked up those who had fallen and returned slowly to the camp, a
rearguard marching behind them and answering the volleys discharged at
them with a brisk fusillade.
Soon they were out of harm's way, and stepped forward to the inspiriting
wail of a bagpipe. About half an hour later it became light, and the
whole garrison of Ladysmith who were free to do so turned out to welcome
them. They had heard the firing, seen the flash of the gun-cotton which
had destroyed the gun, and so learned that some of their number were
making a sortie. It was a surprise to them as much as to the enemy; but
to have published the news the day before would have meant a certain
reverse, for in the town and camp, fraternising with our troops, were
still men bought with Pretoria gold--spies and traitors who lived in the
guise of harmless and refugee civilians, and yet were ready to send news
of intended movements to the Boers.
But now that the sortie was an accomplished fact, and had proved such a
signal success, the troops flocked out in hundreds and cheered the
gallant party, relieving of their burdens those who were carrying the
wounded.
Then a couple of ambulance wagons galloped up, and while one of them
halted and took in the poor fellows, the other went ahead, one of the
surgeons climbing in behind. A few hundred yards farther on a shell
dropped and exploded near them, and a groan burst from all who were
watching; for the work done for all who were helpless or hurt, by the
medical staff, had already roused a feeling of deep gratitude in the
hearts of the men.
Undaunted by the shell, and by another which quickly followed it, the
ambulance wagon galloped on, a white flag with the red cross of Geneva
flying above it. On arriving close to the hill, the surgeon was seen to
leap out, and, followed by four stretcher-bearers, to walk hither and
thither in search of the one or two men who had been left behind. Soon
they found them, in the midst of a pile of wounded Boers, and, carrying
them to the wagon, returned to the camp at a leisurely pace, the enemy
this time letting them go unmolested.
Meanwhile the sortie party had almost been carried to their tents, while
the officer who had been in command turned to the strangers who had so
strangely joined his forces.
"What's the matter, Somerton?" he cried. "You look awfully white. Not
hit, I hope?"
"Oh, I'm all right! It's nothing, thanks!" Jack answered. But his
looks belied his words. He was deadly pale. His head was in a whirl,
and now that all the excitement and danger was over, the power to
control his feelings deserted him. His rifle dropped from his hand, he
staggered forward, and fell senseless at the feet of his astonished
friends.
Guy rushed to his side, and with the help of Rawlings, Mr Hunter, and
Mr Richardson carried him to a field hospital which happened to be
near. There it was found that a bullet had struck the magazine of his
Mauser pistol, and, exploding the ammunition, had shattered the weapon
and torn a deep wound in his side. But, strange to say, Jack had barely
felt it at the time, though on the way back to the camp the pain had
been excruciating. He had received the wound when charging with the
bayonet, and the loss of blood which followed had at last told upon his
strength.
When he recovered consciousness he was lying in a comfortable cot in a
huge marquee, in which were fifteen others. In front of him, calmly
stitching beneath the flap-like awning, was an army nursing sister, one
of that band of noble women who follow our armies everywhere. She was
stitching quietly, and seemed quite unconcerned when shell after shell,
thrown from the Boer guns, fell in the camp.
Jack stirred, and at once gave vent to a sharp cry of pain, for the
slightest movement caused him agony.
"Ah, so you've come to at last!" said the sister in a gentle voice,
jumping up from her seat and coming to the side of his cot. "Now you
must drink this. It is nasty stuff, but will do you good, and
to-morrow, if you are strong enough, I will tell you how my life has
been pestered these last two days by the hundreds of friends who have
called to ask after you."
"Friends!" said Jack feebly. "What friends? I have only a few here."
"You have far more than you imagine," the sister replied with a smile.
"But I am disobeying orders. You are not to talk."
With gentle hands she arranged his pillows and saw that he was
comfortable, and Jack fell into an easy sleep as he was in the act of
thanking her.
But on the following day he was unconscious again, for his wound was
inflamed and he was in the height of a fever. Against this his iron
constitution fought for two long weeks, during which he was tenderly
looked after by the nurse, and watched with anxious feeling by the
surgeons. And all this time Guy and his father and Mr Hunter hovered
outside in the depths of despair, waiting impatiently for the first good
news of their friend.
At last one day he showed signs of improvement, and two weeks later was
rapidly recovering. The change in his condition caused a wave of
gladness to spread over the beleaguered town, for Guy and his noble
comrade, to whom he unstintingly and generously gave most of the credit,
were the heroes of Ladysmith. Their adventures were detailed round many
a camp fire, and if one soldier puffed more fiercely at his pipe, and
swore beneath his breath that Jack was a downright good fellow, hundreds
did, from the officers downwards.
As for Mrs Robb, the forlorn but brave little English lady whom the two
young fellows had befriended at such risk to themselves, she was now
quite happy once more, for her husband had escaped from his captors and
had joined her in the camp.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
And now to return for one brief moment to Frampton Grange, the family
seat of the Somertons, and the amiable mistress and youth who resided
there. Jack's accident in London and his voyage to Africa had long
ceased to be topics of interest to them, and, indeed, beyond wondering
occasionally what had become of him, they never troubled themselves
about him. Jack had written to them several times, but neither Mrs
Somerton nor Frank had deigned to respond, and in consequence he had for
months kept silent, so that they had no idea of his whereabouts.
But Dr Hanly was a regular correspondent of Jack's, and when the latter
wrote and said that they were on the eve of war, and that he should
volunteer for service, the doctor sent the letter down to the Grange, so
that Mrs Somerton might read it.
Who shall say what were the thoughts of this disappointed woman, or of
the worldly son who lived with her? Frampton Grange was a charming and
luxurious residence, and the legacy to which Jack was entitled at a
certain age was by no means a small one. What if something happened to
him? Then all would come to Mrs Somerton, and in due course to Frank.
The very thought of it made the latter more unbearable, his airs and
graces grew even more exasperating, and he finally became a veritable
ruler of the house, with the result that there were many changes in the
household. The first to leave was the old butler, who had been for
years in the service of the family, and then one by one the other
domestics quitted the house.
Kruger's ultimatum was delivered, hostilities commenced, and mother and
son scanned the newspapers and the long list of casualties with
expectant feelings. Judge of their disappointment, then, when, instead
of wounded, killed, or missing, Jack's name appeared in large type, and
beneath it a long article describing the adventures of a young
Englishman, by name Jack Somerton, of a good old family at home, who had
ridden from Kimberley to Johannesburg to aid the refugees, and had
afterwards brought news to the beleaguered town, after having
accomplished a gallant deed on the way.
No sooner had this appeared than another telegram announced his
successful dash for Mafeking, and his subsequent daring ride to the
north.
Then came silence. There was no news of him. Messages from Tuli and
Mafeking stated that nothing further had been heard of him, and it was
feared that he had been captured. But advices from Pretoria failed to
mention his name amongst the lists of prisoners, and the master and
mistress of Frampton Grange felt their hopes rise high.
But later, after more than a month of silence, the busy flash-light from
Ladysmith explained how Jack Somerton had come nobly to the fore again.
Dr Hanly was beside himself with pride and pleasure, and no sooner had
he read the news than he darted off to the Grange and congratulated Mrs
Somerton. He was an observant man, was this little doctor; given to
thinking charitably of everyone; but when he saw the little enthusiasm
his intelligence caused he was astounded and disgusted, and at once left
the house with the firm intention of never going there again till Jack
returned.
Dr Hanly was not the only neighbour who showed his appreciation of our
hero's services to his country. From far and near people called to
offer their congratulations, and letters poured in in shoals. So much
so, indeed, that Mrs Somerton and her son gradually began to look upon
the other side. They were not altogether bad or selfish, and in time
they too, feeling a kind of reflected glory, began to think more kindly
of the homeless lad they had treated so harshly. In this satisfactory
condition we will leave them, and while Jack Somerton lies in his bed in
that field hospital in the invested camp at Ladysmith we will return to
the British troops in other parts of South Africa.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
It will be remembered that on the receipt of Kruger's ultimatum England
had despatched a large army over the 6000 miles of water which cut her
off from South Africa, and this force had arrived at its destination in
due course, armed and ready for war, and accompanied by supplies. In
addition, local colonial forces were rapidly enlisted, for it was
apparent to all that no one could approach so close to the Boers in
slimness and astuteness in fighting as these hardy young sons of the old
country, who, finding themselves crowded out by the more fortunate ones,
had betaken themselves to this fair land of South Africa to set up new
homes. And with them, to do all and every arm of the service justice,
must be classed the gallant volunteers from Australia, Canada, and New
Zealand. For the most part used to a rough life in the bush, they
proved most valuable scouts, and were as fine a body of men as could be
met with.
Thus it will be seen that we had a large army in the field, and when it
is recollected that some 10,000 troops were hemmed in at Ladysmith,
while others kept the foe at bay in Cape Colony, Kimberley, and
Mafeking, it will be realised that England was well represented.
A glance at the map of South Africa will show the four railway systems
leading into or close by the two republics in arms against us. Those
who know the country through which they run believed that General
Buller, the able leader of the British forces, would invade the Orange
Free State by way of the Orange River, and thus draw off the investing
forces from Ladysmith and the other besieged towns.
But a little consideration will show that such a task was all too
formidable for the army we had accumulated. To begin with, the Boers
far outnumbered us--not that that damped the spirits of our men, but it
was a fact to be seriously reckoned with. Then Cape Colony was seething
with sedition, and a revolt was to be feared unless troops were there to
keep the rebels in check. But perhaps the greatest difficulty was that
this necessity for troops in all parts of the country, and along the
railway to the Orange River, the absolute importance of keeping the
communications open from the advancing army right away to the sea, and
above all the large force required to keep the Boers in check in Natal
and south of Kimberley, capped the strength of our army corps to such an
extent that when all demands had been supplied its numbers had dwindled
so alarmingly that the idea of an invasion had to be promptly abandoned.
The urgent necessity for the timely relief of the three beleaguered
towns now became obvious, for the fall of any one of them, but
particularly of Ladysmith, would have been a heavy blow to our prestige
in the country, and would have increased the already growing sedition.
Accordingly Lord Methuen was despatched with a force of some 10,000 men
to Kimberley, while the remaining troops were sent _via_ Durban into
Natal. A few others were placed under General Gatacre's command, and,
having sailed to East London, took train for Queenstown, while another
force, under General French, went _via_ Port Elizabeth towards
Naauwpoort.
To detail the regiments or the exact numbers in each column would be to
tax the patience of the most generous of readers, as would also a full
description of the various skirmishes which each had with the enemy.
They started from the sea base by railway, and as they reached the
invaded country they followed the rails, and repaired the parts which
had been torn up by the Boers. Thus, their communications being
assured, they had abundant supplies of ammunition and of food, and could
pass their wounded down the line a few hours after the injuries were
received.
But though this means of transport saved a vast deal of labour, and for
the moment allowed our generals to dispense with wagons and mules, it
had one decidedly important disadvantage, for, inasmuch as we were tied
to it, the Boers knew weeks beforehand what part they would have to
defend, and made preparations accordingly. And this was particularly
the case on the west and in Natal.
In the case of the former, a large force of Boers, under Commandant
Cronje, opposed Methuen's advance just above Hope Town. Heights had
been selected at Belmont, and these had been carefully entrenched. But
the Guards, the Marines, and the others who composed the force dashed at
them, and captured them at the point of the bayonet.
A few miles farther north, at Graspan, another position had been taken
by the Boers, and once again we drove them out of it.
But there was sterner work before this truly gallant column, for, though
they had driven the enemy before them on each occasion, the lack of a
really large mobile arm, in the shape of a cavalry force, hampered them
seriously, and allowed the Boers to retire where otherwise they might
have been routed. Consequently they were far from beaten, and when the
column reached the banks of the Modder River it was to find a long line
of ridges entrenched on the other side, and the bridge blown down. In
addition, the knowledge that the British must pass on in this direction
had allowed the Boers full scope in the way of artillery, a most
important arm, and instead of the field-guns which we were forced for
the most part to make use of, they had mounted long-range weapons of
position, against which only our naval 4.7 cannon could effectively
fight.
The battle of Modder River was a murderous affair, but once again, in
spite of severe losses, we damaged the enemy to such an extent that,
though not driven from his entrenchments, he deserted them overnight,
and under cover of darkness retired on the long ridges of Spytfontein
and Magersfontein, only a few miles south of Kimberley.
It was an exceedingly formidable and well-chosen position. In spite of
the most complete reconnaissances the trenches remained hidden, and the
Boers held their fire, refusing to be drawn into showing their exact
whereabouts till an attack was made in force.
It was a crafty and exceedingly wise proceeding on their part, for when,
in the grey of dawn, our Highland Brigade advanced, they stumbled, in
close order, upon the first line of trenches before they were aware of
it. And the Boers, who were almost taken by surprise, poured murderous
volleys into their ranks as they marched in quarter column, and almost
decimated them. It was a most unfortunate affair, and though we covered
the retirement of the brigade, and indeed killed and wounded large
numbers of the Boers, we failed to turn them out of their trenches, and
retired on our camp, checked for the first time in a memorable march, in
which in seven days we had fought no fewer than three successful
engagements.
It was a check, not a reverse, though the disaster to the Highlanders
was a serious affair. But it created a sensation, and formed one of
those irritating pin-pricks which roused the British lion to do his
utmost, and caused us to pour into Africa an army larger than had ever
before been transported across the sea. How those troops were raised,
how the patriotic spirit of the nation showed itself, will be described
in due course. For the moment we shall leave Methuen's column safely
entrenched in front of the Boers, waiting for reinforcements from
oversea ere they made a second attempt at an almost impossible task, and
will mention the fate in store for Gatacre's force. This small column,
with its base at Queenstown, had a disastrous beginning. A night march
to Stormberg, where the enemy was in force, was attempted. A
miscalculation brought the troops into an extremely dangerous position,
and a large number were taken prisoners, the remainder retiring in good
order.
What happened to the other column in Natal is of so much importance that
it must be described in fuller detail.