With Rifle and Bayonet: A Story of the Boer War

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.

Chapter Sixteen.
The Attempt upon the Guns

It was in the early days of September that Jack and his friend reached the beleaguered camp of Ladysmith, and found safety there after their adventurous flight from Pretoria. The former, as has been shown, knew little about the troops or the movements of the enemy, for he had been struck down by a serious wound. But he was a strong and healthy lad, and, once he got over his fever, made rapid progress; so much so that when Christmas-day came round he was sufficiently well to recline outside the tent and look on at the camp. The sunlight and the air did him a vast amount of good, and when the New-Year arrived he was able to walk with comfort, and was almost himself again.

“Jack, how would you like a drive?” cried Guy on this festive day, entering the small bell-tent which had now been allotted to his friend. “I’ve got the loan of a light cart and a couple of horses, and if you care to dodge an occasional shell we’ll make a tour round the camp and have a look at the boys. A real good time they are having too, and there is to be a big football-match this afternoon between the Highlanders and the Rifles, which will be well worth looking at.”

“Just what I should like,” Jack answered. “When shall we start?”

“Oh, in half an hour! I’ll get the cart at once.”

Accordingly, when Guy drove up in a comfortable Cape cart, Jack climbed into it, and accompanied him round the camp. It proved to be highly interesting. The huts and houses and the long lines of tents in various parts were still much the same as when he was last in Ladysmith, but what was different was the stretch of trenches which had since been dug, and near which the soldiers lived, ready at any moment to man them and keep back the enemy.

Ladysmith was for all the world like Aldershot. It was the big camp of South Africa, and probably for that reason had been garrisoned and held, when the southern bank of the River Tugela would have been a more favourable position. For health and the collection of a large body of men it was certainly not to be beaten. There was ample room for camp and town, and a wide plain over which cavalry could manoeuvre, and field-days be practised by the foot regiments. In addition, it was high land and supplied with excellent water.

But it had obvious disadvantages when held against a besieging force. With trenches and redoubts the encircling hills could be held, but beyond these there was a second outer circle, from which a fierce bombardment could be kept up by the Boers. Guy and Jack drove round the defences, and noticed that the chief position was to the south of the camp, at Wagon Hill and Caesar’s Camp, and it was near the latter that Jack’s field hospital lay.

Outside, the Boers had mounted big Creuzot guns on several hills, and from these, ever since the camp was surrounded on October 30th, they had kept up a more or less severe bombardment, throwing immense numbers of shells into the town. But the results were not very creditable. Football and cricket matches were played in full view of the gunners, while the officers played polo. Occasionally a shell would plump in their midst and send them all flying, but very little damage was done.

As Guy and Jack drove across towards the northern part a huge shell pitched just in front of their horses, and, burying itself deep in the ground, exploded, throwing dirt all over them.

“Shall we go on, Jack?” asked Guy. “Those Boer fellows have spotted us, I expect. Perhaps you don’t feel quite up to it just now that you are weak after your wound.”

“Humbug!” was Jack’s answer. “Get ahead, Guy; it’s only a chance shot that will hit us.”

“Ah, I thought you’d say that!” Guy continued; “and the majority of fellows who have been hurt say that had they been out in the open they could have easily run away. But a few shells have burst in houses and tents, and some people have been killed. Of course the Boers have pounded the town, and have even sent a few shots through the big hospital. At any rate it has been hot work in there, and now all non-combatants and the women and children live over on the neutral ground at Intombi Spruit. The troops have nicknamed their camp Funkemburg.”

At this moment someone called out to Guy to pull up, and Rawlings, the officer who had conducted the sortie which had helped Jack and his friends back into Ladysmith, came up to the cart.

“Hallo, Jack Somerton!” he cried heartily, shaking him by the hand. “When are you going to turn out of that hospital and join Guy in our mess. He tells us you have lots of yarns to give, and he says something about a girl near Kimberley. When are you coming, old boy? We’d like awfully to hear all about that little affair.”

“Well, I hope to be out in a few days now,” Jack replied with a laugh. “But shut up about that Kimberley business! Guy, what have you been telling these fellows?”

There was a loud laugh at Jack’s expense, and then Rawlings climbed into the cart and accompanied the two young fellows on their drive.

“I can tell you, Jack,” he said, “that you had better hurry up and get your strength back, for those beggars outside are getting restless again. Just fancy, they have been firing away at us, and looking into the camp, for two months now, and, much as they long to take it, they have only made one feeble assault. We beat them back then, and if they try the game again I expect we shall give them a better hiding. You chaps haven’t had all the fun to yourselves. We may be shut in here, but we’ve drawn a few of old Krugers teeth. We’ve played that game of blowing up his guns twice, in addition to that time when we three had the pleasure of meeting. And we’ve also upset him a bit by sending out the cavalry. If it had been a British force investing Boers in Ladysmith, I’m open to bet a new hat that we’d have turned them out of it long ago. Just fancy looking on for two whole months! Well, I expect they will wake up again soon, especially now that Buller has been checked at Colenso and cannot release us at present. I can tell you, chaps, it’s a beast of a position. You see these hills round here? Well, the main Boer army, under Joubert, blocks the country between this and the River Tugela, and that country is choke-full of rocky hills and kopjes. To reach this camp and set us free the British troops have first to cross the river, and then they have to fight their way foot by foot past all those hills, every one of which will have guns mounted on the summit, and be entrenched from the base up to the guns. It is a difficult undertaking, and Buller and his troops, in spite of the greatest bravery, failed in the first step – the crossing of the river – on December 15th. The heliograph has told us the whole story, and now we know that the Boers had entrenched the whole of the north bank of the river for miles on either side of Colenso. You’ve seen our trenches here, and can guess how difficult it is to locate them from a distance.

“The Boers, with their usual cunning, had concealed theirs perfectly, and the heaviest artillery fire failed to make them disclose them. There was nothing else for it but an assault over an open stretch of country, just the kind of work that our men are fitted for, but work which is terribly trying.

“With splendid dash, General Hart’s brigade moved forward on the left to the drift across the river, supported by General Hildyard’s brigade, guns accompanying both. But the drift, which is usually fordable, was now too deep, for the Boers had dammed the river. Added to that, all those who crossed were under a terrific rifle fire. Still, our lads did it, and got to the other side, only to find the position untenable. It was altogether terribly hot work, and it was soon seen that a frontal attack could not succeed. Buller recognised it early, and skilfully withdrew his men.

“But one unfortunate affair happened. The guns galloped forward to support the infantry, but got so close to the masked trenches of the Boers that all the horses were shot down immediately, and nearly all the gunners. They made a gallant fight of it, but they had fallen into an ambush, and in spite of the desperate efforts made to get the guns away, only two were saved, the others being captured by the enemy.

“During the battle Colenso was occupied by our troops, but later on was evacuated. In the evening, after having sustained severe losses in men and guns, our army retired to its camp. The Boers, too, suffered very heavily in spite of rocks and boulders.

“It was a check, and a severe check, but our boys went back that night not a bit disheartened; and now, by all accounts, they are itching to make another attempt. Meanwhile, here we are, poor little Ladysmith, surrounded on every side, garrisoned by some 9000 men on half-rations, with no luxuries, and with typhoid fever and dysentery raging amongst us.

“It’s enough to dispirit anyone, but we are hopeful still; and I guarantee, if you come to our footer match this afternoon, you will watch as good a game as you could see at home.

“But mark my words, you chaps. The Boers are getting restless. Reinforcements are being hurried up-country to Buller, besides extra guns, and they know very well that he is only getting everything ready before making another – and let us hope this time successful – attempt. Their aim and object is to capture this camp before he comes. They are getting desperate, for to fail to take us will make them the laughing-stock of the world. But an assault is distasteful to the Boer. Nothing goes so much against his grain, unless perhaps it is a British bayonet. But he will try it, and when he does we shall have our work cut out. There, now you know all about it, and if you hurry up and get strong, Jack, you’ll be able to take a hand in the affair.”

“Well, I feel almost fit for a tussle now,” Jack laughed, “and if the camp is assaulted you may be sure I shall get hold of a rifle somehow and join in the fun.”

“I’m sure you will,” Rawlings answered heartily. “Such a fire-eater as you are would be certain to be somewhere in it. But come along to our mess and lunch. They can spare you from the hospital for once, and I don’t suppose it matters much what you eat, now that you are up and about.”

Jack accepted the invitation, and much enjoyed it, for it was the first time he had had a repast out of hospital since he came to Ladysmith. After lunch he was given a big chair and a large cigar, and ordered to tell the story of the defence of the farmhouse near Kimberley.

He obeyed the order, and had to put up with a good deal of good-natured chaff. Then he drove off with Guy and Rawlings to the football ground.

It was an exciting and fast game, and was closely contested, there being little to choose between the smart riflemen and the brawny Highlanders. The whole camp was there to look on, and evidently the Boers were also watching through their field-glasses, for in the midst of a severe tussle, and when the two sides were grouped close together, there was a screaming noise overhead, and a huge Creuzot shell plunged into the middle of them, narrowly missing one man’s head, and buried itself deep in the ground.

Instantly the umpire’s whistle sounded, and he shouted: “Half-time, boys!”

A roar of laughter followed, and all the players decamped hastily and threw themselves on the ground. A second later there was a muffled roar, sand and earth were driven in all directions, and a large fragment of shell whizzed across the ground, passed close to Jack’s head, and tore a huge rent in a galvanised-iron shed behind him.

Then the umpire’s whistle sounded again, and the game was proceeded with, one and all treating the matter as a joke.

That evening when Jack got back to his tent he was tired out, but by the dim light from a lantern he perused, with many a chuckle, the pages of one of the two papers published in the camp. It was The Lyre, and purported to contain nothing but untruths.

On the evening of January 5th, as Jack was reclining on his chair looking round the camp with his field-glasses, he noticed that amongst the men passing to Ladysmith from Intombi Spruit, or “Funkemburg”, were three whose movements were suspicious. They were dressed like colonial volunteers, and carried rifles. Passing separately across the open ground, they pushed forward without hesitation, and, once inside the camp of Ladysmith, walked in the direction of Wagon Hill, where each in turn disappeared into a hut which had been almost smashed to pieces by one of the enemy’s shells.

Jack watched them, curiously at first, wondering why they did not come across from the neutral ground together, and what business they had to be out of the camp; and then suspiciously, for their movements were peculiar. They looked about them cautiously, and one by one dived into the hut. Here they remained, and though he fixed his glasses in that direction for half an hour there was no sign of them, and they did not even appear when the bugle sounded the “Fall in!” all over the camp, and the garrison turned out of their tents and formed up for the evening inspection.

“That is queer!” he muttered suspiciously. “Who can they be? Not civilians, I am sure, for they have no business over in this direction. I don’t like the look of things, and I’ll keep my eyes upon those beggars.”

A few minutes later, as Sir George White and his staff rode on to the nearest parade-ground and the guard there presented arms to their commanding-officer, a man slipped out from the back of the hut, and, having peered in all directions, struck the wall with his rifle. Jack fixed his glasses upon him and waited. Almost immediately two men emerged, and having looked about them suspiciously, fell in, and, shouldering their weapons, marched off towards the heights of Caesar’s Camp, with the one who had first left the hut walking by their side.

“Well, that’s rummy!” exclaimed Jack aloud. “What can they be doing? I suppose they are going to relieve the pickets, or the guards over the guns. But it is an unusual time. Of course I know that the colonials take their turn, but they are generally marched up to change guard just before the evening parade. I’ll just watch, and at the same time keep out of sight, for they will pass close by me.”

He promptly entered his tent, and, lying full-length on the ground, lifted the flap, and again watched the volunteers through his field-glasses. Soon they were close at hand, and though it was already getting dusk, something about the figure of the officer caught his notice, and that, combined with the peculiar manner in which he threw out his feet, set Jack wondering who he was.

“I’m sure I’ve had something to do with that fellow before,” he muttered. “Who can he be?”

Jack puzzled his brains, but could not solve the problem, and was on the point of giving it up in disgust when the merest chance disclosed it to him. There was a sentry standing in front of an iron hut used as the paymaster’s office, and as the volunteers got opposite him, and just in front of Jack, the watchful man hailed them and shouted: “Halt! who goes there?” saluting the party at the same moment by shouldering his rifle.

He was evidently a young soldier, and eager to be considered wide-awake, or else he would have remembered that it was already dusk and no salute was required. Still it served Jack’s purpose, for a second later “Eyes right!” and “Gun picket!” was shouted out in a voice which made him tingle from head to foot and tremble with excitement, for the voice and the figure together told him that it was none other than Piet Maartens, his old enemy, who had so nearly proved the death of him in the Transvaal magazine.

“Good heavens!” Jack exclaimed in astonishment. “What does it mean? Can he have come over to our side to fight against the Boers? No, that’s impossible. He must be a spy, and, by George! those other men with him must belong to the enemy too.”

Jack sprang to his feet and gazed after the squad of volunteers. Then he thought for a few moments, and, having determined what to do, he dived into the tent again, and, snatching up his rifle, ran across to call Guy Richardson.

“Quick, Guy!” he said, pushing his head into the hut in which Guy and Mr Hunter lived. “Come out here! I want you both! Bring your rifles!”

An instant later all were walking rapidly towards the heights of Caesar’s Camp, the southern boundary of the defences of Ladysmith, and a position of the most vital importance to the garrison, for with the Boers in possession of it their guns would have forced our troops to surrender.

“There’s some treachery going on!” Jack whispered as they walked along side by side. Then he explained what he had seen, and told them how Piet Maartens, and two men dressed presumably as colonial volunteers, were marching towards Caesar’s Camp.

“There is certainly something wrong,” Mr Hunter replied hurriedly. “Now what had we better do! Ah, I know! You two follow them, and I will go to the quarters of the officer in command of the pickets to-night and warn him. What can those spies want! Keep your eyes open, lads. It looks as though our friends were about to make an attempt to take Ladysmith.”

A moment later Mr Hunter was gone, and Jack and Guy hurried on till they were within sight of the men they were following. It was now almost dark, and having ascertained the direction in which they were marching, the two took to their heels, and, making a wide détour, ran up to the trenches at the top of the hill.

“Wait here, Guy, while I go over and speak to the officer on duty,” said Jack. “I’ll be back directly.”

Slipping across the turf, he was soon challenged by a sentry and brought to a sudden stop with the man’s bayonet at his chest. Then he was taken to the officer.

“I’ve some important news to give you,” he said. “Can I see you alone!”

“Certainly! Come in here,” was the answer; and Jack was led into a trench.

“There’s something going on to-night,” Jack whispered. “A Boer I knew in Johannesburg is marching up here with two men, all dressed as volunteers. They are all spies, I believe, and I have come to warn you!”

“Spies! By Jove, we’ll get hold of them immediately they appear!” exclaimed the officer.

“Don’t you think it would be well to let them do whatever they are coming for,” said Jack thoughtfully. “You might set a watch on them, and as soon as you have found out their game arrest them. I should warn your sergeants and a few of the older men, so as to be ready. Mr Hunter thinks it looks as though the Boers were about to make a rush.”

“By George, they’d better not!” the officer exclaimed. “But I’ll do as you suggest, and what is more, I’ll send a man over to warn the fellows on Wagon Hill.”

“Very well! I’ll slip back, and follow Piet Maartens and his friends up,” said Jack; and, stepping from the trench, he nodded to the young officer and ran across to Guy.

A few minutes later the Boer spies appeared marching stealthily up the hill, and as soon as they had passed by, Jack and Guy fell in behind them. They kept steadily on, halting for a few seconds now and again to listen and glance cautiously round them. Soon they were at the top of the heights, when they turned to the left, and after proceeding some two hundred yards came to a stop directly behind a battery of field-guns placed in a most commanding position to rake the flats below. They stood unguarded and unattended, save that below them, on the farther side of the hill and some distance away on either hand, pickets were posted.

“Looks as though they were going to play some game with the guns,” whispered Guy. “What do you think, Jack? It would suit their purpose well to destroy our cannon and then assault us.”

“I think you are right, Guy. Let us hide up here and watch. At present I do not think they will do much, for it is too light, but in another hour perhaps they will make a move. By that time they will be surrounded.”

At this moment Piet Maartens rose to his knees from the hollow in which he and his two companions had thrown themselves, and, not seeing anyone, all three stole forward about fifty paces, and again lay prone upon the ground, where they remained without a move, save that now and again one of them raised his head and attempted to pierce the gloom. But the night had already fallen, and it would have required more than the unaided eye to distinguish any but a very close object.

Meanwhile Jack and Guy had crept into a good position near at hand, and feeling sure that the officer in charge of the trenches had taken due precautions to surround the Boer spies, they sat down in silence and waited to see what would happen.

“Stay here a moment,” said Jack, seeing that at present nothing was likely to happen, “I’ll go and get that officer, and then there will be official evidence against those fellows. It looks as though we should have them beautifully.”

Leaving Guy crouching behind a mound of earth, Jack slipped back, and, having reached the trenches, was soon in conversation with the officer.

“I wonder what their game is,” said the latter. “At any rate we shall nab them all, for I have put a circle of men all round the guns.”

“I believe they are going to damage the weapons in some way or other,” Jack answered, “and in that case they will certainly use explosives. I came over to ask you to join us at a spot where we can see everything. The sentries on the guns show well up against the sky-line, so that when these fellows get on their feet we can see at once when they move. By the way, it would be wise to warn the gunners to be careful when the time comes for using their weapons.”

“Yes, I’ll do that,” exclaimed the officer. “Who knows! these spies may fix a charge of dynamite. Wait here a moment while I give the order.”

A few minutes later he joined Jack once more, and both crept to Guy’s side and then moved forward, for Piet Maartens and his companions had crawled closer to the guns. Raising their heads cautiously, they peeped over a bank and saw the guns, only a few yards in front of them, standing dimly defined against the star-lit sky, while close beside them crouched the Boer spies.

Piet Maartens lay a few yards in front upon the edge of the hill, and as Jack and his friends watched him they saw him lift his head and look steadily in either direction, and then turn round as if to make sure that he was unobserved.

Instantly all three sank flat on the ground, but a minute later, when they peered over the bank again, he was facing down the hill, and as they looked, he stood up and produced what was evidently a pair of field-glasses and applied them to his eyes.

“He’s trying to make out where the pickets are,” whispered Jack. “Keep down, you fellows, he’s turning this way now.”

“He can look as long as he likes,” chuckled the young officer, “but he won’t see a single man beyond the regular outposts. I ordered all my fellows to lie flat and remain without a move till they hear me shout.”

“That’s good,” muttered Jack. “Halloa! what’s that?”

As Jack spoke, one of the Boer spies gave a low warning hiss between his teeth, and a second later a corporal and two men swung by in the darkness on their way to relieve an outlying picket. They had approached so silently that Piet Maartens was taken by surprise, and was instantly perceived. But his coolness did not desert him. He instantly replaced his glasses and challenged.

“Relieving picket,” shouted the corporal, and passed on without a halt.

“Pass, relieving picket. All’s well,” Piet Maartens answered, and, having waited a minute, again produced his glasses.

Five minutes later the corporal and the men he had relieved returned, and silence settled down upon the hilltop.

It was a trying time for Jack and his friends. Crouching behind the mound of earth, with their eyes glued upon the Boer spies in front, they expected them to make some attempt upon the guns at any moment. But an hour dragged slowly past, and then another, and the officer was on the point of shouting to his men to close in, when Piet Maartens was again seen to make use of his glasses.

“Wait a moment,” Jack whispered, placing his hand upon the young officer’s arm to restrain him. “They are moving now, and the fun will begin.”

An instant later, having satisfied himself that there was no one about, Piet Maartens slipped stealthily to the side of one of his fellow-spies, and, extracting something from his haversack, approached one of the guns. There was a faint click, then a few seconds of silence, which was followed by a metallic “clang”. Once more he returned to his comrade, and approached another gun. And all the while Jack and his friends looked on in breathless silence. In all, there were twelve weapons belonging to the Field-Artillery, and each in turn Piet Maartens visited. Then he returned to his former position, and, having looked round in all directions, gave a soft whistle. At the signal the other spies joined him, and immediately disappeared over the brow of the hill and climbed down the opposite side. Instantly the young officer rushed up to the guns, accompanied by Jack and Guy, and, drawing his revolver, shouted “Look out, men!”