With Rifle and Bayonet: A Story of the Boer War

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.

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.