With Rifle and Bayonet: A Story of the Boer War

“Ha, ha!” Jack chuckled coolly; “they’ll want to do a deal better than that to turn us out of this. Look out, here comes another!”

As he spoke there was a second puff, and this was followed by a deafening thud overhead and by a loud explosion behind the house.

“Not a bad shot that,” Jack remarked serenely. “It touched the roof, ricochetted off, and burst away behind.”

The next shot proved almost more alarming, for it was a shrapnel shell, and exploded some hundred yards in front of the farmhouse, sending a hail of bullets spattering in all directions.

“They’ve got the range now, and I think we had better get below,” said Jack. “We shall be quite safe from a rush, for the Boers cannot come close while their friends are shelling us. I expect they will continue firing till they have smashed the place to pieces, and then they will gallop up full-tilt. That will be our time. We will lie low, and make them think that the shelling has killed or wounded all of us. We will hold our fire till they are at the railings, and then we will blaze into them. I fancy we shall be safe enough till nightfall, but then, if help does not reach us, it will go hard with us. Tim must have slipped into the town by this, so we can hope for the best.”

“I will play something for you, if you like,” said Eileen Russel at this moment. “You don’t want any cheering up, but just to show you that I feel quite safe in your hands, and have no fear of the Boers, you shall have some music. What shall it be?”

“Let us have ‘God Save the Queen!’ Miss Russel,” Wilfred cried. “It will make us feel all the better.”

Accordingly the brave girl stood up at one end of the cellar, and in that curious place, and with shell and bullets plunging through the walls of the house above, and occasionally exploding with a deafening noise which drowned the music for the moment, made the air throb with those strains which no Englishman worthy of the proud name can listen to unmoved. It was indeed a strange proceeding, and to the Boer horseman who galloped up just then, during a lull in the firing, and approached the farmhouse within fifty yards, it was totally inexplicable. Here were a few mad Englishmen listening to the strains of their national anthem with bullets flying all about them. “Surely they are a strange people!” he thought. And plucky too, for that violin he heard was played by a young girl’s hands.

Eileen played right through the anthem, and was heartily applauded by the men, who sat round her, rifle in hand, their faces dimly lit by the rays from the oil-lamp which had been placed upon the floor.

By this time the farmhouse had been drilled through and through with shell, most of which, however, had passed out without exploding. A few had struck directly upon the stone slabs above the cellar, but all save one had merely fizzled angrily and poured out a quantity of smoke. But one burst, and blew part of the roof of the house away, also shattering two of the stone slabs.

“Volunteers to replace the damaged stone roof!” sang out Jack, pushing his head up through the trap and inspecting the havoc. “Two of the slabs above us have been blown to pieces and must be replaced at once, or else an unlucky shell will pitch through the boards and come in here on top of us.”

Wilfred at once rose to his feet, and the two darted up the ladder and into the kitchen. Here they found that a brick wall, built to carry the cooking range, stood between the Boer fire and the ponies, so that the hail of Mauser bullets had for the most part failed to reach them. But one had entered through the wall at the back and had killed a pony, while a shell burst through the thin layer of brick just as Jack and Wilfred entered, and, throwing a shower of dust and débris in all directions, inflicted a fearful wound upon another of the captured ponies and flew out through the other wall.

“Poor beast!” exclaimed Jack with a shudder. “I will put it out of its agony. They will not hear my Mauser from such a distance.”

Stepping up to the wounded animal, he placed his pistol close against its chest and pulled the trigger. The bullet passed through its heart and killed the suffering animal instantly.

“Now for the stones!” he said quietly. “I’ll lever them up, and then help you to put them in position. Hurry up! I see those fellows are getting the other gun into place, and preparing to fire it.”

Jack took a hasty view through one of the loopholes with his glasses, and then proceeded to prise up the slabs from the kitchen floor. Five minutes sufficed to complete the work, and just as they were preparing to descend into the bomb-proof chamber once more, a loud and incessant rat, tat, tat sounded in the distance, followed an instant later by a continuous hum overhead, and then, as the range was found, by a stream of one-pounder shells which hurtled through the farmhouse, smashing walls, chairs, and everything in their way into matchwood.

“Come down, lads!” cried Frank Russel anxiously. “That’s a quick-firing Vickers-Maxim barking. They’ll give us a long dose of that while the mounted men ride closer, and then there’ll be a rush. Get your guns ready, and immediately the firing ceases climb out of this and man the walls. I expect they’ll come mostly from the front, for they don’t know of this cellar, and will fancy we are all wiped out. Well, we’ll teach them something, that’s all.”

“Then it is agreed we hold our fire till they are within a few yards of the railings,” said Jack. “A volley to start with will be the thing, and then when they reach the garden we will use our magazines.”

“That’s it, lad!” Frank Russel answered. “We all understand, and we’ll hold our fire till you give the word. George! they are pouring it in this time!”

There was good cause for this last remark, for above their heads there was a perfect pandemonium, in which the loud rip, rip, and scream of a flow of shells predominated, while now and again a dull, heavy thud, as one struck the slabs above, caused all to start nervously.

But they were well protected, and although the position was not exactly pleasant, or devoid of danger, they bore the bombardment with a serenity which was wonderful. At any moment one of the iron missiles might find its way into the cellar, and deal a sudden and awful death to all. Indeed Jack began to wonder what would be the best course to adopt supposing one of the bombs did happen by ill-luck to find an entry, and lie in front of them fizzling and spluttering ere it shattered itself and its immediate surroundings to pieces. He had seen that some of them did no more than splutter and smoke, and he at once determined in his own quiet dogged way that he would take immediate action and remove it to the slabs above. If it burst in his hand – well – neither he nor his friends would ever know much about it. But if the fuse were not expended he might be able to remove it in time, and so save all their lives.

But he was never called upon to take such a desperate risk, and instead sat silently in his corner, smoking furiously, and watching the smoke which Frank Russel and Wilfred blew out from their lips. It was quite fascinating to see it curling slowly up from the dark cellar into the bright light overhead, and then suddenly cut in twain by a rushing shell. Even Eileen was interested in it, and, catching Jack’s gaze fixed in the same direction, smiled at him just to show how steady she felt. “Look out, lads!” exclaimed Frank Russel a few minutes later. “They’ve done pumping those shells into us, and we had better get back to our posts.”

All four at once scrambled up the ladder, and, darting across the floor, looked out over the sunlit veldt. In front it was covered by a number of galloping ponies, with wild-looking Boers upon their backs.

Jack at once rushed to the other side of the house and gazed in that direction, but there was no one to be seen.

“They are all in front,” he cried. “All the better for us! Each of you lie full-length on the floor and push your rifle a few inches only through the wall. That’s it! Now wait till I give the word.”

Lying flat on their faces the gallant little band held their fire, and waited in dead silence while the horsemen galloped towards them. Soon, as they got within 200 yards, one of them gave a shout and threw his hand in the air. All at once drew rein and walked their ponies forward, laughing and shouting joyfully to one another; for the fact that no sharp reports had greeted their rush seemed to show that the shells they had poured into the farmhouse had been effective, and that all the defenders had been killed.

Laughing, therefore, and smoking their pipes, they rode slowly towards the farm, gradually drawing close together as they directed their ponies towards the entrance to the garden.

“Get your magazines ready!” whispered Jack. “We scarcely hoped for such luck. Wait till they reach the opening, and then fire into them as fast as you can.”

His companions obeyed him silently, and then waited grimly for the word which would send a death-dealing stream of lead into the Boers.

It seemed an hour before it was given, but Jack was not the lad to be flurried, or to allow excitement to get the better of his judgment. He waited calmly till some of the enemy had ridden through the opening, while the remainder were in a close body outside.

Then he shouted, “Fire!” and instantly the four rifles spoke out, spouting forth a continuous stream of bullets and angry puffs of flame. Then they stopped as suddenly, as the magazines emptied.

“Now volley-firing!” shouted Jack; and each, slipping in a cartridge, waited till he gave the word. Four times in rapid succession they emptied their rifles, but on the last occasion only into flying men, for the Boer slimness had for once been dormant, and neglect of ordinary precautions had led them into a trap which proved a bitter lesson to them. At such close quarters, and grouped together as they were, the long Lee-Metford bullets, with their tremendous velocity and penetrating power, had drilled through and through the mass, and had almost annihilated the band. Had a Maxim been turned upon them for a minute the slaughter could scarcely have been greater, and as it was, a pile of dead and wounded Boers blocked the entrance to the homely English flower-garden, while injured ponies struggled and lashed out madly with their heels, adding to the ghastly picture.

It had been a sudden and terrible blow, and those of the enemy who yet lived turned their animals, and, extricating themselves from the heap of fallen comrades, galloped madly away in the desperate desire to escape from the murderous rifles of the few dauntless “Rooineks” whom they had hoped to find dead and mangled beneath the ruins of the farmhouse.

“That will teach them something, my lads!” exclaimed Frank Russel hoarsely. “It’s awful to have to kill so many of them, but it’s their lives or ours, and besides, we’ve a glorious cause to fight for.”

“It is truly awful,” murmured Eileen, sitting down on the floor and suddenly turning deadly pale. “Oh, I cannot bear to hear their groans!”

“She’s done up, and no wonder, poor girl!” cried Frank. “Slip below, Jack, and fetch up a glass of brandy. There, that’s it, Eileen dear! pull yourself together, and remember it is all for our queen and country.”

Jack at once dived into the cellar and reappeared with some brandy and water, some of which was poured between Eileen’s lips. But she was now in a dead faint, and it was some minutes before she regained consciousness again. Naturally a somewhat timid and gentle-mannered girl, to be called upon to use a rifle in earnest and deal mortal wounds was a sore trial to her. The need for strength, and the stern struggle in which she had so bravely borne a part, had, however, braced her for the work. But now, when it was all over, or rather when the hostilities had ceased for a time, and she saw the wounded and heard their groans, the terrible sight and the unusual sounds unnerved her, and she was prostrate in a moment.

A little later she had recovered, and, stimulated by the brandy and soothed by her father’s kind words, was soon herself again and able to stand up.

Meanwhile Wilfred and Jack had dragged a table from a corner in the kitchen, and having placed it beneath the gap in the iron roof, and lifted a chair upon it, the latter jumped up, and, standing on tiptoe, waved a handkerchief. It was answered from a distance, and as soon as one of the enemy had galloped up, Jack informed him that for an hour they were at liberty to send a party of fifteen men to remove the killed and wounded.

The permission was again accepted with grateful thanks, and while the gruesome work was going on, the little garrison once more took advantage of the time to snatch a hasty meal. When all the Boers who lay in front of the house had been removed, a man with a grey beard and wrinkled face rode forward alone and asked for a parley.

From his post in the roof Jack beckoned to him to advance, and asked him what he wanted.

“Elof Visser is dead,” he began sadly, “and so are many more of my poor comrades; but, for all the loss we have suffered, we are none the less determined. We will capture you if we have to smash the house to pieces. But you are brave men, and I again offer you terms, and if you refuse them, beg that you will send out the girl. She shall be taken and handed over to the English pickets outside Kimberley. Think well of what I say. Frank Russel shall not be injured if he is with you. That is all; but I will remind you that they are honourable terms, which men such as you are might well accept.”

“Thank you,” replied Jack courteously. “I will discuss your terms with my comrades. Draw off as far as the railing and wait till I call you.”

“Now, what shall we do?” he asked, jumping from the table. “Whatever happens, I think Eileen had better trust herself to these men. The Boer outside looks an honest sort, and I am sure he will do exactly as he promised.”

“I refuse to leave you!” exclaimed Eileen indignantly. “If you are not going to surrender, I shall certainly not say ‘good-bye’ now. My rifle has proved of some help to you, and will be wanted badly later on. You can settle the point as to surrender or not, Jack, but I am mistress of my own actions, and shall throw in my lot with you.”

“George! then I expect there’s only one answer to be made!” cried Frank. “We’ve shown them that this is a precious tough nut to crack, and we’re no worse off now than we were early this morning. Let us stick to it, I say, and trust to the boys from Kimberley reaching us by nightfall.”

“And I think the same,” exclaimed Wilfred excitedly. “We’ve got the cellar to hide in, and since it has already stood a long bombardment, it will serve our purpose for a few hours longer. We’ve plenty of ammunition and food and water. Yes, I quite agree. ‘Stick to it!’ is our motto.”

“Very well, then,” said Jack, with a grim chuckle, “I’ll let this fellow know.”

Jumping up on the table he called to the Boer, and as soon as he bad approached near enough told him the decision of the little garrison.

“We are much obliged for your kindness and for the terms you offer,” he called out, “and are only sorry we cannot accept them. We are willing to retire from this house to Kimberley, if you will promise to let us go unmolested, but we will not surrender. Miss Russel, too, refuses to leave us. Now let me advise you again to leave us alone. We have already shown you that we are determined not to be taken, and we mean it more now than we did before. Grant us a free and safe passage into Kimberley and end the matter. If you refuse, then you must take the consequences, for my men are fully prepared to fight till they are killed.”

“How many of you are there?” asked the Boer craftily.

“Ah!” replied Jack with a knowing smile, “there are just as many here as there were last night. Promise us a safe pass into the town and I will give you our numbers.”

“It is impossible,” was the curt answer. “I have done all that man can do. My comrades and I admire your bravery, and therefore have offered you these terms. You refuse for the second time. Very well, I am sorry, my young friend, for you compel us to kill you. It is a pity your wisdom does not match your bravery. I shall return now, and when I reach our lines the guns will commence again.”

The Boer nodded and cantered away, and five minutes later the storm of shell had once more commenced to plunge through the farmhouse.

First plugged shells were used, that is, shells without explosive contents and devoid of fuses; and these for the most part rushed through the walls, merely increasing the havoc already wrought. Then the one-pounder, quick-firing gun, familiarly known as the pom-pom, a terrible weapon against troops exposed in the open, joined in the awful din, and sent murderous projectiles hurtling through the house. But by some lucky chance the majority of the shells failed to explode (probably because the foreign contractors had filled a large proportion of them with saw-dust), and merely burst their way through the shattered house without doing much damage. For an hour the cannonade continued, and just before it finished it was increased by the firing of a Maxim, which had been galloped up to closer quarters.

By this time Frank Russel’s farm was a ruin; doors, windows, and walls were in pieces, and the roof was gashed in all directions. Only the kitchen seemed by some chance to have escaped. And down below it all, in the bomb-proof cellar, Jack and his friends sat waiting for another rush, Eileen quietly boiling a kettle over a spirit-stove and preparing to make some tea, while the men smoked on serenely, laughing and chatting when a momentary lull allowed them to do so, and ready at any moment to hurry upstairs and man their posts again.

“That is the last burst!” exclaimed Frank Russel, with an easy laugh as the distinctive rat, tat, tat, tat of the Maxim reached their ears. “Get ready, lads! they’ll be coming soon. When they find we’re still alive and kicking, they will be wondering whether we are ordinary men or not. It was a splendid idea of yours, Jack, to make use of this cellar. Tim and I, with another of the Kaffir boys, dug it out and bricked it round some years ago. It’s a good storehouse for cartridges, but I never thought it would mean the saving of our lives. Ah, that is the very last!” he added as a one-pounder shell burst overhead and carried away a good portion of the roof.

Jack immediately pushed his head up through the trap, and as the Maxim had stopped, crawled across the floor, clearing a path through the scattered woodwork and débris. Then he peered through a small aperture made by a shell, and looked earnestly across the veldt. As he had expected, the Boers were advancing, bringing their guns with them.

“They are pushing forward,” he cried, “but I fancy they do not mean to rush us. It looks as though they would shell us again. If they do we must still keep quiet, for if they attack at close quarters and in force, a surprise will help us more than anything.”

By this time the horsemen were within 600 yards, and here the guns halted, while the Boers spread out and advanced towards the front of the little farmhouse. Almost immediately the Hotchkiss opened fire, and soon after the rattle of the Maxim and the continuous rip, rip of the bullets overhead told the defenders that it was as yet unsafe to venture up from their cellar. Jack had already slipped down there, but now, rifle in hand, with bayonet fixed, he stood close to the ladder, ready to rush up as soon as the time arrived. A glance at him was sufficient to show that this young Englishman had firmly made up his mind not to give in till the last drop of his blood had been shed; and Frank Russel and Wilfred were evidently determined to back him up through thick and thin. They were without doubt in a tight corner, and might expect to be rushed at any moment; but for all that, the dangers they had already passed through seemed only to have increased their doggedness.

Dressed in corduroy riding-breeches, gaiters, and spurs, and with the sleeves of his shirt turned up over his elbow, Jack looked fit for any work. A pipe was in his mouth, and his thin lips encircled the stem closely with what was next door to a smile, showing that, however young and inexperienced he might be, Jack was certainly by no means dismayed at the thought of the coming struggle.

“This is going to be the hottest and stiffest fight of all,” he cried, so that all could hear; “and mind you, it will not do for any one of us to show so much as a finger. They are coming from the front, and we three will look after them there, opening fire when they are about sixty yards away. Some of them who have the pluck will get close up to the house, and will try to force their way in through the broken walls. If we fail to shoot them down Eileen will be able to stop them, for she will take her post half-way up this ladder, so as to be out of the fire.”

“But, Jack,” Eileen began to expostulate.

“You will do as I say, or else we will show the white flag at once,” exclaimed Jack earnestly.

“The lad’s right, Eileen,” Frank chimed in. “It’s going to be hot work up above, and you can help us far more by doing as Jack says than by taking a place by our sides. But – look out, lads! It’s time we hopped up again.”

All three instantly scrambled out of the cellar and took their places, while Eileen climbed a few rungs of the ladder and stood there, rifle in hand, and with her head just below the level of the floor.

Meanwhile Jack had darted to the back, and then to either side of the house, and having made sure that none of the Boers were in that direction, rejoined his comrades. Looking out through an aperture, he saw that about forty men had dismounted and were creeping forward in extended order, while in the centre was the Maxim, which had just stopped work for fear of injuring its own side.

“Mark that Maxim!” said Jack sharply. “If we drive off these fellows we can easily make it next door to impossible for them to remove it, for at this distance we could shoot down any man who approaches it. But our duty now is to look after these fellows. Frank, you take those of the left. I’ll look after those directly in front of me, and Wilfred will manage those on the right. Let them get within sixty yards, and then fire fast and steady. Keep the magazine for closer quarters.”

Lying full-length on the ground, they pushed the muzzles of their rifles a few inches through the loopholes and waited.

“Now I think we can begin,” said Jack, when the Boers were well within the distance he had named. “Are you ready? Then fire!”

Taking a careful aim, the three pulled their triggers, and as many of the Boers threw up their hands and fell forward upon their faces. The remainder at once dropped full-length upon the grass and wriggled forward, firing after going a few feet, for they were still ignorant of the force opposed to them behind the shattered walls of the house, and therefore abstained from rushing. Had they done so, there is little doubt that they would quickly have overwhelmed the little garrison; but the average Boer dislikes nothing more intensely than to fight in the open and attack a position in which the enemy lurks in complete concealment. But to take the house there was absolute need for this, and believing that after all there were not many opposed to them, they ventured to approach.

And now the superiority of khaki clothing was fully sustained, for instead of being barely visible, each one of the Boers formed a black bull’s-eye against the waving veldt, and was an easy target for the rifles of Jack and his friends.

Loading and firing rapidly and steadily, they picked off one recumbent figure after another, and after five minutes’ work, when their rifles were becoming so hot that they could scarcely hold them, the enemy stopped and hesitated, and then fled in confusion, pursued still by the merciless bullets. When they reached the Maxim they stopped, and three of their number commenced to place it in position so as to rake the farmhouse.

But Jack and his two friends, helped now by Eileen, concentrated their fire upon it, and picked off the Boers. More at once rushed pluckily forward to take their places, but suffered the same fate, and soon, stung by the bullets which still spattered amongst them and struck puffs of dust from the ground, the enemy bolted out of range, leaving their Maxim behind them.