With Rifle and Bayonet: A Story of the Boer War

“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!”

The next moment a ring of soldiers leapt to their feet, and with fixed bayonets faced the party of Boer spies.

“Lay down your arms, Piet Maartens. It’s all up, and if you lift a hand you will all be shot like dogs!” Jack shouted, rushing forward at the same time and presenting his rifle at his old enemy’s head.

A snarl of rage escaped from the Boer’s lips, and he made a frantic effort to unsling his rifle; but long before he could get it free the circle of soldiers rushed in and knocked all three to the ground. A minute later they were being marched towards the town, surrounded by a strong party in charge of a subaltern.

“Now we’ll have a look at the guns,” exclaimed the officer. “Sergeant, bring along a lantern and a couple of men, and don’t attempt to touch the guns till I have inspected them. Come and help me, Somerton. I expect that beggar has placed a charge of dynamite in the breech.”

A few moments later a lantern was produced, and, followed by Jack and Guy, the officer looked closely at the breeches of the guns. At first there was nothing to be seen. But a close inspection revealed a thin piece of wire attached to the handle of the breech, passing from there into the inside of the weapon.

“Don’t open it, whatever you do,” cried Jack in a warning voice. “It is a regular trap for the gunners, and the opening of the breech would fire the charge inside. Snip the wires, and then you will be able to learn all about it.”

A wire nipper was now produced, and the piece attached to the handle having been cautiously snipped, the breech was opened and disclosed a charge of gun-cotton inside arranged so that the mere opening of the handle would pull the wire and explode the charge, and so destroy the gun immediately.

“Ah, I told you there was a plot on hand!” exclaimed Jack with satisfaction. “They know that we have guns here, and they sent those spies in to arrange matters, so that when the rush comes and they attack the hill, we should be left without a single weapon to fire at them as they cross the ground below. Well, I fancy we shall be able to open their eyes. It’s getting on for midnight now, and we can expect them very soon.”

“Right you are, Somerton,” the officer replied. “There’s no mistake about it. They are going to have a real good try to take us, and, thanks to you, we shall be ready for them. I’ll go off and report the matter, and meanwhile I’ll have all the guns loaded with shrapnel. By the way, what are you going to do?”

“Oh, Guy and I will give a hand, if we may!” answered Jack.

“My dear chap, every man of us will be wanted, and the more we can get the better. Come into my trench, if you like. It’s certain to be a hot corner, being so close to the guns.”

Jack and his friend eagerly accepted the invitation, and accompanied the officer back to the trench. Here they were joined by Mr Hunter, and a few minutes after his arrival some Highlanders and Riflemen put in an appearance. Then all lay down, while the gunners trained their weapons upon the flats below, and loaded them with shrapnel. Outposts were doubled, and every man waited in dead silence for the assault, prepared to hurl back the attacking Boers at the point of the bayonet.

Chapter Seventeen.

The Grand Assault

For almost three complete months had the Boers surrounded Ladysmith on every side, and shelled it persistently, and yet here were the British troops, seemingly as steadfast as during the early days of the siege.

But wounds and disease had slowly thinned their ranks, and against the 20,000 or more of the enemy there were scarcely 8000 to man a huge circle of trenches. What could they do against the odds opposed to them? It was almost an impossible feat that was expected of them, but for all that, each and every one of our sturdy lads, as he sat in the trenches that night, listening intently and vainly endeavouring to pierce the gloom, swore solemnly to himself that the task should be accomplished. For many weeks they had laughed at and kept a horde of Boers at bay, and now, when they were in a tight corner and in difficulties, they would teach the enemy that they yet had teeth to show, and good strength to use them.

And down beyond the flats stretching away from the heights of Caesar’s Camp, and in all the laagers surrounding the beleaguered garrison, bands of stern, resolute Boers collected together in absolute silence in the darkness. There was no need for words. Their plans had long since been arranged. They were the pick of all the forces from the Transvaal and the sister republic, and for the most part they had volunteered to attack and capture the camp, or die in the attempt. Rough, bearded men of middle age, they numbered amongst their ranks commandants, field-cornets, and officers of the Boer army. At a peremptory order from Pretoria, and because they could no longer put up with the humiliation of thus being laughed at by a handful of men, they had set themselves the dangerous task of a grand assault. It would be warfare after a method hateful to them one and all, for the comfortable shelter of a big boulder was more to their liking. But a desperate position called for stern measures, and, like the brave men they were, they prepared for the work, determined to do or die in the attempt. Collecting together in silence, they for the most part removed their boots, and just before the darkness lifted they set out across the grassy plain, and without so much as a sound commenced to scale the heights of Wagon Hill and Caesar’s Camp. Without firing a shot those at the western end of the heights clambered up till they were almost upon the trenches, when they were discovered by an outpost of the Manchesters, who gave the alarm. Instantly a hail of lead was poured into the night, and the guns opened fire, tearing the elopes and the flats below with bursting shrapnel.

But the darkness aided the Boers, and in a few moments they were upon our men.

They had got so far, but they were not to make another step forward, for by now the Gordon Highlanders and the Rifle Brigade had arrived, and, rushing forward with fixed bayonets, they dashed pell-mell at the enemy, and after a fierce and bloody conflict broke them, and hurled them shattered and bleeding down the steep hillside.

It was desperate work. As the night lifted, and the grey haze of dawn lay upon the grassy slopes of Caesar’s Camp, Briton and Boer stood face to face and fought for supremacy. Every man of ours had need of all his courage and strength, and not one failed to do his duty to his queen. Magnificently the brave fellows kept up the reputation of the army, and in spite of the havoc wrought by Mauser bullets, pressed the enemy still closer, and when they fled sent a taunting cheer after them, and stood ready and willing to meet them again.

Jack and Guy took a full share in the work. Deafened by the reports of the field-artillery and the incessant tat, tat of the rifles, they stood shoulder to shoulder in the trench, and when their comrades charged, rushed forward with them and helped to hurl back the Boers. But that was the least difficult part of the task. Some minutes before the much-needed reinforcements arrived they were closely pressed, and barely held their own. The Boers swarmed up the hill, and now that the alarm was given, opened a hot fire upon them. Then they rushed at them, and surrounded the small party of defenders.

Standing back to back, Jack and his friend, with Mr Hunter, beat off a determined assault, but a second which followed parted them, and the two young fellows found themselves alone and cut off from their friends, while Mr Hunter had been forced back amongst the Highlanders.

Side by side Jack and Guy thrust fiercely at the Boers, parrying the swinging blows aimed at them, and escaping the flying bullets by a miracle.

“Surrender, and lay down your arms!” shouted a big, bearded man, presenting his rifle at Jack’s head. “You are surrounded and cut off from your friends.”

“Never!” cried Jack, hoarsely. “Come and take us it you can!”

“Very well, then,” the Boer answered roughly, and at once pulled his trigger, falling himself in a heap upon the ground at the same moment and rolling down the hill, his head almost smashed in by a shell which had struck him. But his bullet took effect. Swishing close by Jack, it hit Guy with a dull thud in the thigh, causing him to stumble and crash down upon the grass.

“All right, old boy!” cried Jack immediately, standing across his body and plunging his bayonet deep into the chest of a young Boer.

“That’s it, Jack. Keep them off!” Guy answered weakly; “I’m hit in the leg, but can fire my rifle.”

Next second both were hotly engaged, for the enemy, who had drawn back for the moment, rushed upon them again, and while some fired their rifles, others swung theirs over their heads and bit with all their strength. But the keen, gleaming bayonet, darting angrily here and there, kept them at arm’s-length, and not content with that, Jack gave a defiant shout, and, springing forward, threw himself upon them, transfixing one with his murderous blade, and knocking a second senseless with the butt of his rifle.

Meanwhile Guy had calmly opened his magazine, and as the burghers returned to the attack he picked them off one by one. But it was an uneven contest, and another minute would have seen both of them killed or captured, when there was a roaring cheer from behind, and down the hill, careless of the pelting bullets, swept the brawny, kilted sons of Scotland and the fearless and lithe little riflemen, their bayonets at the charge and the light of battle in their gleaming eyes.

At the sight the Boers drew back for one brief moment, and Jack and Guy regained their friends, the latter forgetting the agony of his wound in the excitement of the moment. Then, plucking up their courage and remembering their desperate resolve, the burghers turned to face the oncoming line of bayonets with a bravery which none of their fellows had ever shown before. With one fierce shout they ranged themselves together, poured in a volley, and rushed like a tide up the hill to meet the avalanche of terrible steel now pouring down it. A minute later the two forces met with a crash, but the result was never for a moment doubtful. The British onrush was not even checked. There was a fierce lunging of rifles, a succession of awful groans, and the Boers were gone, all swept to the ground, save a few who were now racing away for their lives. And after them the gallant English troops sent a scathing volley, and then stood watching them, shouting hoarsely to them, and more than half-longing that they would return again ere the flush of victory had died down in their hearts. But one such bitter experience was sufficient for the moment. The Boers hastily rejoined their friends, and, diving into cover, opened up a galling fire upon the heights of Caesar’s Camp.

Meanwhile other parts of the town had been attacked, to draw off attention from the heights to the south, the position which was of such vital importance. But the main strength of the enemy was directed against Caesar’s Camp, and while to the west of it one commando of staunch men had been hurled backward down the slopes, another had advanced on Wagon Hill, and had occupied it before the three detachments of the Imperial Light Horse stationed near were aware of it. The Boers, however, were raked by a murderous fire of Lee-Metford bullets, for the gallant colonists stuck to their posts with dogged persistence.

As the day dawned and it was seen that the enemy had possession of the hill, the Highlanders, Devons, and 60th Rifles charged them in company with the Imperial Light Horse. There was no denying this old and supremely British method of settling a conflict. One crash, one murderous flash of fire, and the hearts of the Boers were inspired with terror, and they fled precipitately to cover, whence they kept up a sullen fusillade.

For many long hours the Boers poured a storm of bullets upon the heights of Caesar’s Camp from a long ridge of which they had taken possession, and then, at noon, they made a second desperate onslaught, only to be shattered by the field-artillery and mown down by our riflemen.

Late that memorable afternoon, in the midst of a blinding storm of sleet and rain which only Natal could produce, a third and last attempt was made, but proved a signal failure, for by now the artillery, which had already done such excellent service, had ranged their guns to rake the open ground, and those of the enemy who escaped retired to their laagers to rest and recover from the terrors of an awful day. They were a sad gathering, for they had many comrades to mourn, and in addition their dearest hope had been frustrated. From behind a barrier of rock, and concealed in carefully-prepared trenches on the ridges north of the Tugela, they and their long-range guns had proved too formidable for Buller’s army, despite a stubborn and gallant attack. But here, when the position had been reversed, when a handful of British manned a trench on the summit of a hill which sloped easily and was not too steep to be assailed, they, in spite of their superior number, had been shattered and defeated.