With Rifle and Bayonet: A Story of the Boer War

At this moment another Boer commando was reported advancing from the left, and the Leicester Regiment and a battery of guns was sent against them.

“By George, it looks as though we meant to clear that hill!” exclaimed Farney excitedly. “What shall we do, Somerton? Leave our horses and follow them, or stay where we are for a time?”

“Let us ask Preston,” said Jack, nodding to the Hussar officer who had befriended them on the previous night, and who galloped up at that moment.

“Look here, Preston,” Farney called out. “Somerton and I want to have a hand in this battle. What shall we do?”

“If you will take my advice,” Preston answered, “you will join us. The chances are you would be in the way over there with the regulars, and your ponies would certainly be picked off. We are going to form over by the shoulder of the hill, and when our boys have set the beggars running, we will gallop round and break them up. There will be some fun in it, and you may both of you just as well have a share.”

Accordingly Jack and Lord O’Farnel joined the Hussars and a body of mounted infantry supplied by the Rifle Regiments and by the Dublin Fusiliers.

Jack was mounted on Prince, and had left Vic behind, as it was unlikely that he would require two mounts.

They rode forward close in rear of the advancing regiments until the bullets began to whistle past them, while now and again some poor fellow tumbled forward on the ground. But undeterred, with never a backward glance or a thought of flinching, the three British regiments pushed forward, the nonchalance and absolute coolness of the men being superb. They acted just as if on a big field-day at home in the Long Valley, and as if sure that, within a certain time, and after firing so many rounds and marching a given number of miles, they would return to camp, and to a comfortable dinner which would await them.

Many of the men smoked pipes and cigarettes, and joked and called to one another as they advanced, but for all that, beneath all their dogged pluck and coolness, there was a certain restlessness, a nervous grasp of the rifle, and a keen look in their eyes which told that they had braced themselves for a determined effort, and that nothing, not even thoughts of sweethearts and wives and children at home, or even death, should deter them from mounting the slopes of the hill in front of them and putting the Boers to flight.

“By Jove, it’s fine to see them!” Farney cried, with a ring of pride in his voice. “Look at them now! They have opened out, and the foremost lines have reached the edge of the hill. Ah, now they are giving it to them! Volley-firing, regular and well delivered. Look at them now, Jack; they are pushing up the hill, and more of the poor fellows are dropping! Ah! who would now dare to say that my countrymen are disloyal? I know some of them have acted as blackguards at home, but they are the scum of Irishmen, while these soldiers are real, brave boys!”

By this time the three advancing regiments had commenced to climb the hill, and the batteries had galloped up to closer range, and were now pouring in a hail of shrapnel at the puffs of flame which told where the Boer marksmen were. On our side, too, the men were cunningly taking advantage of every stone and boulder, or bravely facing the hail where no cover existed, and from their rifles a steady discharge of bullets was kept up at the heights above.

And behind them, and right up in the firing line, with no time to think of cover, the army surgeons and the bearers of the Army Medical Corps were at work picking up the wounded, applying dressings, and carrying the poor fellows away with a coolness and bravery which matched that of the other soldiers.

But our lads were gradually creeping up the hill, and were now within 300 yards of the summit, where they lay down, and poured in murderous volleys at the Boers, while a few feet overhead a succession of screaming shells flew by, to plunge amongst the boulders a few moments later, and burst with an appalling roar, scattering death-dealing bullets on every side.

Gallantly did our brave fellows fight, and gallantly too did the Boer marksmen prove their devotion to their country. Struck down on every side, they still stuck to their posts, and in those last few minutes added numbers to our list of dead and wounded.

But British pluck, whether bred in England, Ireland, Scotland, or Wales, or indeed in any of our colonies, was not to be gainsaid. With a roaring cheer and the shrill notes of the “charge” sounding along the hill, the British fixed bayonets, sprang to their feet, and made one rush for the summit of Talana, never pausing to fire, but trusting to reach the enemy and apply cold steel, the most terrifying death of all. But the Boers did not wait for them. Those that had held so stubbornly to the crest of the hill had performed their allotted task, for they had enabled their comrades to withdraw the guns and retreat in order; and now, springing from behind the boulders, they darted down the other side, a mark for the bullets of our soldiers.

Meanwhile the two hundred cavalry with whom Jack and Farney had thrown in their lot had been quietly walking their horses round the shoulder of the hill. As the infantry lay down for the last time before the charge, Colonel Moller, who was in command, gave the order to trot, and the little column swept round the shoulder, a Maxim gun on a galloping carriage trundling along in the centre. Arrived in sight of the reverse side of the hill, they halted for a few moments and waited for the flight of the Boers. Already they were retiring in ones and twos, but a minute later they came in a swarm.

“Draw swords! Trot! Charge! At them, my lads!” came in quick, sharp tones, and in a second the horsemen had opened out, and were going pell-mell across the open space.

Jack was close to Farney, and as, like the mounted infantry, neither possessed a sword, they had fixed their bayonets on their rifles, and holding the latter close to the lock, with the bayonet well advanced, prepared to use them as lances.

A moment later they were amongst the flying enemy, bullets singing about their heads and knocking men out of their saddles. But all the time the sabres were flashing fiercely in the sunlight, and Jack and his friend were using their bayonets to advantage. It was a wild ten minutes, and what happened during that time Jack never knew. Almost before he had expected it, Boers rose up in front of him and fired point-blank in his face. One bullet actually grazed his forehead and sent his hat flying, while another smashed his water-bottle to pieces. But he knew nothing about it at the time. Gripping Prince firmly with his knees, and keeping him well in hand, he leant forward in the saddle prepared to act at any moment. Suddenly a huge, bearded Boer stood in his way, half-hidden by a boulder, and, waiting till Jack was almost on him, pulled his trigger. What happened to the bullet Jack never knew; probably it went beneath his arm, for he found a slit in the sleeve after the fight was over, but the concussion and flash of light almost blinded him. Next moment with a hitch at the reins and a touch with his leg, given almost unconsciously, he was round the boulder and had plunged his bayonet into the Boer’s body.

Then he dashed on and set his pony full-tilt at three of the enemy who were standing close together and emptying their magazines into the troopers. One he despatched with his bayonet, a second was knocked senseless by Prince’s shoulder, and the third was cut down a second later by a man galloping along close behind Jack.

But many of the Boers had managed to reach their ponies, and were galloping away to join their friends; and after them the gallant little body of horsemen spurred, determined to teach them a lesson if they could only reach them. A mile farther on, as they were passing some rocky ground, a line of fire spurted out from some bushes, and Lord O’Farnel, who had kept close to Jack, was thrown senseless to the ground, a bullet having killed his pony. Jack at once pulled up and dismounted, to find his friend huddled upon the ground with one leg twisted suspiciously beneath him.

A glance told Jack that it was broken, and that it would be impossible to move his friend until something had been done. As a preliminary he straightened the limb out, and then turned Farney on his back and opened his collar. That done, he sprinkled some water on his face, obtaining it from his friend’s bottle, and looked round to see what had become of the column with whom they had charged.

They were out of sight, and it looked as though the two young fellows were alone, but the phit, phit of two bullets flying past his head, and the loud thuds and spurts of dust which followed, told him that some of the Boers were still in the neighbourhood and were firing at him. But he could see no one, though he searched all round. He and his friend lay in a wide hollow about half a mile across, and close to an isolated patch of boulders which cropped up in the centre.

“There are some Boers over there,” thought Jack, “and if I am not precious careful they will bag me. But I’m not going to get hit or taken if I can help it.”

Determined to make a fight for it, and protect his unconscious friend, he took Farney by the shoulders and dragged him across the ground as gently as possible till he was in a spot with an almost complete barrier of boulders round him. Then he called Prince and ordered him to lie down, which the obedient animal did at once.

A few moments later Jack himself was hidden behind the rocks, and was busied in loading his own and Farney’s rifle, and in laying cartridges close at hand. “That’s all right,” he muttered. “Both magazines are full, so I ought to give a good account of myself. Now I’ll pile up a few more boulders, or I shall be getting some of those bullets flying closer to my head than I like.”

Keeping his body sheltered as much as possible, he rapidly piled up pieces of rock till there was a complete breastwork round himself and Farney. Then he sprinkled more water on the latter’s face, and finding that he was recovering consciousness, repeated it till his companion opened his eyes, looked about him in bewilderment, and then smiled serenely at Jack.

“That you, Jack?” he asked. “What’s wrong with my leg? It feels quite dead; and where are the other fellows?”

“Oh, the others have gone on, Farney!” Jack replied, “and as far as I can make out your right leg is broken somewhere above the knee. We’re here alone, old chap, and about a dozen Boers are sitting down firing at us. But they can keep that up all day without doing us any harm. We are in a regular fort here.”

“Then you’ll have to defend it alone,” replied Farney, with a groan. “I’m just like a log. Half a minute though! Lend me that Mauser of yours. If they try to rush us, I shall be able to use that to some purpose.”

Jack, who was lying flat on the ground all this time, handed his pistol to his friend, and then raised his head carefully and looked round. As he did so he saw a white flag flying from a rifle barrel some hundreds of yards away at the edge of the hollow. He at once tied his own handkerchief to his rifle and waved it. Then he stood up and advanced to meet the Boer who had first shown the white flag.

“You are surrounded,” the latter said, “and so are all your comrades. Lay down your arms and surrender at once, or we will not be responsible for your life.”

“Surrender!” said Jack in reply. “I shall certainly not do that yet. You have been firing at me for a good half-hour without touching me. Let me advise you to clear off, or else you will find yourselves prisoners long before you take me. The English are close at hand and will be here soon. You had better get away as quick as you can.”

“Ah! we will see to that,” the Boer answered calmly. “I will give you five minutes longer, and if at the end of that time you have not agreed to surrender I shall give my men orders to shoot you like a dog.”

“Very well,” said Jack coolly; “but I should advise you to leave me alone and get away while you can.”

The Boer gave an impatient stamp with his foot and turned round brusquely, while Jack made his way back to his friend.

“They have called upon me to surrender,” he said, “and I have refused, and advised them to clear off whilst they can. They are to give me five minutes, and if I haven’t raised the white flag by then they will attack.”

“Well, what are you going to do?” asked Lord O’Farnel anxiously. “Don’t throw your life away, old boy. Mount your pony and make a dash for it! I’ll take care of myself.”

“Oh no, you won’t!” exclaimed Jack sharply. “You’re hurt, and I’m going to get you safely back to friends. I’ve two rifles and plenty of ammunition. These Boers will have to shoot pretty well to touch us here, and if they want to get closer they will have to cross the open ground. If they try that game I think I can promise to stop every one of them before they reach me. But when it gets dark I suppose the game will be up. If your leg wasn’t broken I’d make a dash for it.”

“Why not pack me up now?” asked Farney. “One rifle will be ample for you, for the magazine holds ten cartridges. Pull the lock out of the other, and tie my leg to it. I was shown how to make a gun splint by an army doctor and will put you up to the trick. Now open the lock, old boy. That’s it! Put the butt up under my arm and buckle it there with my belt. Now tie the leg to the barrel with my handkerchief and bandolier. That’s it! you’re a splendid surgeon, Jack. If you tie my other leg to the damaged one, you can do what you like without hurting me.”

Jack did as he was directed. Placing the butt of the rifle beneath the arm he secured it there with Farney’s belt. Then he made the injured leg fast to the barrel, and with his own handkerchief and belt lashed both legs together.

By this time more than five minutes had passed, and bullets had again begun to patter against the stones. But by dint of lifting a few more boulders into position Jack succeeded in constructing a few apertures through which he could see every part of the plain surrounding him. To reply to the shots directed against him was useless, for there was nothing but a series of faint puffs of flame to aim at. Still, he occasionally let off his rifle, to show the enemy that he was on the alert.

Lying flat on the ground, he crawled from side to side of the fort, keeping a particularly sharp watch in the direction in which the white flag had been shown. Suddenly he saw the flag lifted again, but this time it was waved rapidly to and fro, and then lowered. A moment later about a dozen dark figures burst from various parts of the ridge surrounding the hollow, and commenced to run towards him.

Leaning his rifle on a boulder, Jack took a steady aim and fired, the leader, who still carried the white flag attached to his weapon, falling forward on his face at once. Then he loaded again and picked off another of the attackers.

Within a minute he had discharged five more cartridges, his aim proving true on every occasion, so that as many as four Boers now lay motionless upon the ground, while three more were limping slowly away.

Then Jack made use of his magazine, and within as many seconds had shot two more of the Boers who happened to be close together.

The slaughter proved too much for the men who were attacking. At no time fond of exposing themselves in the open, they had dared it now knowing that only one rifle was opposed to them. But that rifle in Jack’s hands was a deadly one, and, astonished and dismayed at the accurate shooting and at the loss they had already suffered, the remaining Boers turned and fled for their lives, Jack sending a few parting shots after them.

“They will let us alone for a little while after that,” he exclaimed with a grunt of satisfaction. “Well, in a couple of hours it will be dark, and if they haven’t taken me by then, I shall make a bolt for it. Will you be ready, Farney?”

“Ready, old chap!” answered Lord O’Farnel with a gay laugh. “Of course I shall be! I dare say it will hurt a bit, but I don’t want to become a Boer prisoner any more than you do. But how are you going to manage? I shall be awfully in the way. Why not leave me, and when you have reached the camp, come back for me with a few others to help you, and a stretcher?”

Jack glared at his friend.

“Did I not say I was going to get you out of this?” he said brusquely. “I’m going to do it, and if you say another word I shall think you are afraid I shall hurt you!”

“Ha, ha, ha!” laughed Farney. “Don’t get annoyed. ’Pon my word, for a quiet inoffensive young chap, you are quite the boldest I have ever met. Have a try at getting me out and you will not hear a groan from me. But I wish I could help you. It’s hateful to have to lie here and never fire a shot, whilst those fellows are sending showers of bullets at us.”

“Very well,” replied Jack in a softer tone, “wait till it is dark and we will get out of this. Half a minute, though. I think I shall be able to put these Boers off the scent.”

Giving a sharp look round to see that a second rush was not being made, Jack slipped out of the fort, and, opening his knife, commenced cutting a big armful of grass and weed which grew beneath many of the boulders. Then, still hidden from the Boers, he hacked at a small tree which stood near at hand, and crawled back to the fort dragging it after him. Bundling the reeds and grass into as close compass as possible, he bound them round with others. Then he cut the branches off the tree and thrust the slim pole it left up through the centre of his bundle. With his friend’s hat on top his dummy was completed, and a few moments later he had arranged a heap of stones with which to prop it up.

“There,” he said, surveying the reeds with satisfaction, “as soon as it gets dusk we will put that up. That will make them think I am still here, and when night really falls I shall lift you as well as I can, get on Prince, and ride away in the direction in which we were galloping. If they look for us anywhere, it will be towards the camp, so that by going the opposite way, and leaving our dummy up, we shall put them completely off the scent.”

“Well, you are a ’cute one!” chuckled Farney. “Put them off the scent! I should think it would! But you’ll find me an awful weight, old chap. Still, I’ve no doubt you’ll manage it. You’ve stuck to this business like a brick, and as you’ve said you’ll get me back to the camp I believe you’ll do it.”

It was already late in the afternoon, and the sun had sunk behind the sharp ridge of the Drakenberg range. But there was still sufficient light to see across the open ground to the circumference of the hollow, and since Jack had nothing more to do than to keep a good lookout, he opened his haversack and made a hearty meal of biscuits and a piece of cheese. Lord O’Farnel wouldn’t touch a mouthful. Poor fellow! though evidently suffering acute agony from his broken leg, he never allowed so much as a groan to escape him. But his knitted forehead and the perspiration on his face showed that he was in pain, which was so severe that, though he had not touched a morsel since the previous night, he refused even to nibble a biscuit. But he drank all that remained in his water-bottle, and seemed much refreshed.

“Now, I think it is about time to stick our dummy up,” said Jack, when it became so dark that the edges of the hollow were indistinct.

Slowly lifting the bundle, he perched it above the rocks, and wedged the stake between the stones; as he did so, a volley fired from some twenty rifles, showing that reinforcements had reached the Boers, was discharged at the figure, and a dozen or more bullets passed through it.

For ten minutes the firing continued and then slackened off, till it ceased altogether. By this time it was almost pitch dark, so that Jack determined to set off.

Prince was already on his feet, and having placed him close to a boulder which he could use as a mounting-block, he went across to Lord O’Farnel, slung his rifle across his shoulder, grasped his pistol in his right hand, after having slipped one arm under his friend’s legs, and, passing the other beneath his shoulders, lifted him gently from the ground.

“Put your arms round my neck,” he whispered. “Now hold on as tight as you can.”

Stepping across the fort, Jack mounted the boulder and seated himself on Prince’s back.

A touch with his heel sent the pony ahead, and soon they were out in the open, heading away from the camp.

About five minutes later Jack managed to hook his fingers in the reins and pull up, for the sound of approaching footsteps fell on his ear. Then two dusky figures slipped by in the darkness, and having given them time to pass on, Jack once more set his animal going. When he had ridden about a mile, and was well clear of the hollow, there was a sudden burst of firing behind him followed by fierce shouts, changing almost immediately to angry cries, which reached him distinctly in the still night air.

“Ah!” he thought, “the Boers have been fairly taken in, and have rushed the fort, only to find a dummy there. I expect they are mad with rage.”

Turning to the left, he now made a wide détour, and about two hours later rode into Craigside camp, utterly worn out with his exertions.

He was at once greeted with anxious questions as to the safety and whereabouts of the column with whom he and Lord O’Farnel had ridden. But his first duty was to his friend, whom he carried towards the hospital tent. Here he found all the surgeons who were not out on the elopes of Talana Hill searching for the killed and wounded, hard at work treating the cases that had been brought in. But they had time to look to Lord O’Farnel.

“What’s happened?” asked one of them, coming out of the tent and helping Jack to dismount with his burden. “Broken thigh? You’ve got that splint put on very nicely. Let us carry him in and look at him.”

A minute later Farney was lying on a stretcher, and the splint was being taken off.

But the poor fellow knew nothing about it. Up to that he had borne the jolting, as he was being carried in Jack’s arms, without a murmur, but when they reached the camp, his arms, which had been round his friend’s neck, relaxed, and he went off into a dead faint. Jack waited long enough to see his clothes removed and the limb set. Then he went out of the tent and strolled back towards the quarters he had occupied on the previous night, leading Prince with him.

“Hi! Somerton!” someone shouted at this moment, “where are you?”

Jack walked towards the sound, and was met by a young officer carrying a lantern, and at once recognised him as one he had met in the Hussar mess on the previous night, and who was pointed out to him as being on the staff.

“I’ve been sent after you,” the officer said, “to ask what has become of Moller’s horse. You and O’Farnel rode out with them, I know, but none of them has returned up to this, though we heard firing in their direction. It begins to look nasty. Do you think they have been trapped?”

“I should not be at all surprised if they have been,” Jack answered. “O’Farnel and I were cut off and surrounded about a mile beyond the shoulder of the hill, and the remainder of our fellows rode on still farther. Towards evening I also heard firing right away behind, and there was more than one gun at work. I fear they have been taken. The Boer flight was a ruse. They certainly, bolted from the top of Talana Hill, but once they reached their friends with the guns they must have rallied. I know we were surrounded by about twenty of them.”

“Then they have been taken,” exclaimed the young staff-officer with conviction. “It’s bad luck, and just spoils our victory. It was just like the plucky beggars to ride on when they must have known that hosts of Boers were near them. But how did you manage to get away, Somerton? Our friends didn’t let you go, I’m sure, and twenty to two, and one of those two wounded, is precious long odds to fight against.”

“Oh, they did their best to bag us!” answered Jack quietly. “But we played their own particular game. O’Farnel was knocked over and badly hurt, so I stopped to help him. Then, when the Boers began to fire, I dragged him behind the stones, built up a kind of fort round us, and banged at them in return. They told me to surrender, and I advised them to clear off. Then they made a rush, but that didn’t help them, for I was able to bowl several of them over long before they reached the fort. After that they got under cover again, and as soon as it was dark we slipped away, leaving a dummy stuck up on a stick to make them believe we were there. They made a splendid rush in the dark and captured it, and weren’t they wild when they found we had gone!”

“By Jove! do you mean to say you kept a lot of them at bay, and got clean away, bringing a badly-injured man with you?” exclaimed the officer. “Well, you’re a plucky beggar, and I shall tell our general. By the way, have you heard that poor General Symons was badly hit, and is now in hospital?”

“I haven’t heard anything,” Jack answered. “Tell me how many men we have lost.”

“Ah, it’s a big list!” answered the staff-officer with a sigh. “Ten officers killed and 22 wounded; 30 men killed and 150 wounded. It’s a big bill to pay for our success, but I suppose no bigger than one might have expected. I dare say there will be one or two more to add to it when the search parties have come in. They have been out a long time now, and the Boer prisoners we took are helping like bricks. They can fight, can those fellows, and our engagement to-day will teach both sides a lesson. We shall respect them more, and follow their tactics of taking cover; while they will have learnt that Rooineks are lads filled with any amount of pluck. By Jove! it was grand to see the way in which the 60th and the Irishmen went up that hill. They have covered themselves with glory, and to-morrow the whole world will be singing their praises.”

“Yes, they are fine fellows,” agreed Jack. “I thought it hardly possible that men could advance in the teeth of such a storm of bullets. But tell me what losses the Boers suffered, and what our movements are likely to be after this.”

“The Boers lost heavily. They must have done so,” answered the officer; “but exactly how many were killed and wounded it is impossible to state. They make it a rule to carry as many as they can away with them, and the list will never be published. Even in Pretoria they will never know. As to our future movements, I believe we shall retire on Ladysmith very shortly. In fact I expect it will be as much as we can do to get there at all. Even now our communications may have been cut, and we shall have to fight our way through. When we reach the base camp I hear we shall make a stand and entrench ourselves. If you are anxious to be cooped up there for a few weeks you had better join some of the Natal volunteers. If not, I advise you to get away as quickly as you can. Well, good-night, Somerton! I’m glad you showed your metal and brought O’Farnel out.”

“Good-night!” answered Jack, and then walked across to the tent, and having tethered his pony and brought him some water, snatched a meagre repast and lay down to sleep. Early next morning he went to see how O’Farnel was getting on.

As he reached the tent the surgeon in charge of the hospital emerged, and, recognising him, shook him cordially by the hand.

“My dear fellow,” he said enthusiastically, “O’Farnel has told us all about your gallant action. Let me congratulate you. It was splendid, and you have shown our enemies what one plucky youngster can do against a crowd of them. Your friend is doing nicely, and I fancy is longing to see you. He’s at the end. Take care not to lean upon the stretcher or you may disturb the splints.”

Jack thanked the surgeon for his congratulations, modestly disclaiming any praise for what he had done. Then he lifted the flap of the tent and entered.

“Hallo, Jack!” Farney sang out cheerfully from the farther end; “come here, my preserver, and let me thank you.”

“Oh, never mind that, Farney!” Jack replied shortly. “Tell me how you feel.”

“But I do mind, old chap!” persisted O’Farnel earnestly. “Jack, you are a real plucky fellow, and if you did not exactly save my life, you certainly kept me from becoming a Boer prisoner. It was fine the way you kept all those fellows away from our fort, and it was noble of you to stick by me. There, I know you don’t like my saying anything about it. Shake hands, old boy; but you’ll not forget that Farney is deeply in your debt, and will not be happy till he has repaid you.

“Now, I hear our fellows are about to retire. That means we shall be left here under the red-cross flag. What will you do? Go with them, I suppose?”

“Yes; I think I shall slip away now,” replied Jack. “They tell me all the troops are likely to be shut up in Ladysmith, and as I promised to go to Kimberley, I shall set out at once. Good-bye, Farney! You’ll get on well, I hope, and soon be about again.”

The two bade one another farewell, and, issuing from the tent, Jack returned to his own quarters and saddled up his ponies. Late that evening he arrived once more at Ladysmith, and took up his quarters at the hotel. Here he learnt that another big battle had been fought during that afternoon at Elandslaagte, and that a large number had fallen on both sides. Tired though he was, he at once rode back along the road to Dundee, and arrived at the scene of the day’s battle after covering some fifteen miles.

Then he joined a search-party, and all that night and on into the following morning he helped to bring in the poor fellows who had been wounded. Boers and British were picked up just as they were found, and treated with equal kindness. And all the while, as the searchers toiled amongst the boulders on the hill, thunder roared above them, and forked lightning lit up the scene, while a bitterly cold rain fell in torrents, soaking everyone to the skin, and increasing the troubles of the wounded.