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Charge! - A Story of Briton and Boer, a novel by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 44. In The Queer Prison |
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_ CHAPTER FORTY FOUR. IN THE QUEER PRISON I was roused up by the great skin-rug being jerked off me. I tried to rise, but sank back, just able to repress a groan, and stared wildly at the four bearded faces looking down at me. The curtains at front and rear had been thrown back, and the sun was shining in from the front, the horizontal rays striking right through the wagon. For a few moments I was so much confused and stupefied by sleep that I could not grasp the meaning of the scene. Then like a flash it all came. These four Boers were going to lead us out to execution--to be shot--the fate of spies! I set my teeth, and felt as if getting hardened now. My eyes turned to Denham, who was seeking mine. He did not speak, but nodded and smiled faintly, the look giving encouragement. Clenching my teeth, together, I mentally vowed I would not let him be ashamed of me. Just then my attention was diverted by one of our morning visitors, who differed in appearance from the others. He was better dressed, wore his hair short, and his moustache and beard were clipped into points. His hands, which he laid upon my shoulders, were white. To my surprise, this man examined my head, with its bandages and traces of injuries. Then he looked hard in my eyes, and turned me a little over to examine my tightly-bound wrists and ankles. Next he examined Denham in the same way, my comrade gazing straight away, with his brow knit and lips tightened into a thin red line, but he never once glanced at the examiner. "Well," said the latter, rising from one knee, "even if they are spies, you need not treat them as if they were wild beasts." "Captain Moriarty's orders," said the Boer, whom I recognised as my captor of the previous night. "Bah!" growled the other angrily. "You are soldiers now; act like them." I was listening with a feeling of gratitude that this man spoke differently from the others, and he saw my eyes fixed upon him. "Do you speak German?" he asked sharply. "No," I replied; "but I understood you just now." He nodded, and then turned to the others to speak in a low tone. The result of this was that two of the men knelt down and set our arms free, placing them before us, for they were perfectly numb and dead. Mine looked as if the thongs had cut almost to the bone, the muscle having swollen greatly. The party then went out at the back; but my captor, who was last, turned back and said: "There are two sentries with loaded rifles at each end, and they have orders to fire." "What did he say, Val?" asked Denham as soon as we were alone. I told him, and he laughed softly. "What is it?" I said wonderingly. "I was only thinking," he replied. Then quickly, "Will they bind our hands again--at the last?" "I don't know," I said in a low, husky voice. "Perhaps not." "Let's hope not; and we must rub some feeling into them first." "What are you thinking about?" I asked. "Don't you know, old fellow? Guess." I shook my head. "Well, it is hard work; but look here: they didn't search us last night, only tied us hand and foot. We've got our revolvers inside our shirts. Let's have one shot each at Moriarty before we die." I looked at him wonderingly, for the vivid dream of the night came back, and my brother's words seemed to be thrilling hotly in my ear once more. Denham looked at me curiously. "Well," he said, "wouldn't you like to shoot the wretch?" "No," I said; "not now. If we are to die I don't want to try to kill any more." Denham frowned, and sat gently rubbing his wrists. I followed his example during nearly an hour. While thus employed we could hear a good deal of bustle and noise going on in the neighbourhood of the wagon, and sundry odours which floated in suggested that the Boers in camp did not starve themselves. Meanwhile we were very silent and thoughtful, expecting that at any moment we might be summoned to meet our fate. At last there was the sound of approaching steps, and I drew my breath hard as an order was given to halt, followed by the rattle of rifles being grounded. I was unable to speak then, but held out my hand quickly to Denham, who seized it in both of his, and his lips parted as if to say good-bye, yet no words were uttered. The next moment he let my hand drop and turned his eyes away, for the big Boer who had become so familiar now climbed into the wagon, glanced at us, and then reached down outside for two large pannikins of hot coffee, which he carefully lifted inside. "Here," he said gruffly; "help to keep up your spirits." He set the tins beside us, then went to the back of the wagon and reached down again for a couple of large, newly-baked cakes, which he handed to us. "The Irish captain didn't give any orders," he said; "but we don't starve our prisoners to death." With that he scowled at us in turn, and left the wagon. "Toll me what he said, Val," whispered Denham in a tone of voice which sounded very strange. With difficulty I repeated in English what the man had said; I felt as if choking. "I wish they hadn't done this, Val," said Denham after a minute's interval. "It seems like a mockery." I nodded, then remarked, "That man seems to have some feeling in him." "Yes; but we can't eat and drink now." "No," I replied. "I feel as if food would choke me." Denham nodded, and sat gazing out at the bright sunshine. "Think it would give us a little Dutch courage if we had some breakfast?" "I don't want any," I said desperately. "I want them to put us out of our misery before that wretch Moriarty comes back." "But we want to face them like men," said Denham suddenly. "We're so weak and faint now that we shall be ready to drop. Let's eat and drink, and we will show the Boers that English soldiers are ready to lace anything." "I can't," I replied desperately. "You must," cried Denham. "Como on." He took up his pannikin, raised it to his lips, and took a long deep draught before setting the vessel down and taking up the cake. "Come, Val," he said firmly, "if you leave yours the Boers will think you are too much frightened to eat." "So I am," I said gravely, "It is very awful to face death like this." "Yes; but it would be more awful if we stood before the enemy trembling and ready to drop." I nodded now. Then catching up the tin in desperation, I raised it to my lips and held it there till it was half-empty. Setting the pannikin down, I took up the cake, broke a piece off, and began to eat. The animal faculties act independently of the mental, I suppose; so, as I sat there thinking of our home and our approaching fate, I went on eating slowly, without once glancing at my companion, till the big cake was finished; then I raised and drained the pannikin. It was while I was swallowing the last mouthful or two that Denham spoke in a low tone. Looking in his direction, I noticed that he had also finished the rough breakfast. "They're watching us, Val," he said softly. I glanced round to back and front, and saw that the big Boer and four others were looking in, the sight making the blood flush to my face. Directly after the big fellow climbed in, to stand by us with a grim smile. "Have some more?" he asked. "No, thank you," I replied. "Hungry--weren't you?" was his next question. I bowed my head. "Well, it'll put some courage into you." He picked up the two pannikins, and stepped out again. "I'm glad we took it," said Denham. "It's better than looking ready to show the white feather." "I don't think we should have faltered even without the food," I replied. We both relapsed into silence now, for talking seemed to be impossible. We had to think of the past and of the future. One minute I felt in despair, and the next I was filled with a strange kind of hope that was inexplicable. It was during one of these oft-recurring intervals, as the time wore on, that Denham turned to me suddenly and said, just as if in answer to something I had said, for his thoughts were very much the same as mine: "There, I can't make anything else of it, Val: we were doing our duty, and trying to save the lives of our friends." "Yes," I said quietly; then, both shrinking from speaking again, we sat listening to the sounds outside. From time to time one or other of the men on guard looked in to see that we were safe, though for the matter of that we had hardly thought of stirring, as escape seemed to be quite impossible. It was about midday, after a very long silence, when Denham suddenly remarked, "It went against the grain at first, Val; but I won't attempt to fire at that brute. He'll get his deserts one of these days. You're right; we don't want to go out like that. I want us to be able to stand up before the enemy quite calm and steady. We must show them what Englishmen can do." I could not speak, but I gave him a long and steadfast look. The sound of footsteps was again heard, and I was not surprised this time when our friendly Boer brought us two good rations of freshly-roasted mutton and two cakes. These he put down before us without a word, together with a tin of water, and then left us. Denham looked at me, and I looked at him, as--each feeling something akin to shame--we ate the food almost ravenously. Then the afternoon was passed in listening to the busy movements of the Boers; but we never once tried to look out of our strange prison. At sunset, as I looked at the glorious orange colour of the sky, a curious feeling of sadness came over me, for I realised it was the last time I should behold the sun go down. There was such a look of calm beauty everywhere that I could hardly realise the fact that we were surrounded by troop upon troop of armed men ready to deal out fire and destruction at a word; but once more my musing was interrupted by the big Boer. He brought us coffee again, and this time cake and butter. "There," he remarked as he placed all before us, "make much of it, boys, for I shan't see you again." A chill ran through me; but I don't think my countenance changed. "I'm going away with our men to the other side yonder, and the Irish captain's coming back. Good-bye, lads," he said after a pause. "I'm sorry for you both, for I've got two boys just such fellows as you. I'm sorry I caught you, for you're brave fellows even if you are spies." "We are not spies," I replied quietly. I was determined to speak now; I wanted that Boer to look on us as honest and manly. He shook his head. I repeated the words passionately. "Look here," I said; "we have been wounded, and were on the sick-list. We could do no good, so we said we'd try and got through your lines and fetch help." "Ah!" cried the Boer slowly and thoughtfully. "Yes, I see. But you were caught, and I can do nothing, boys. Moriarty will have you shot in the morning when he comes back, and begin to rage because it is not done. Well, life's very short, and we must all die. I'm going to fight to-night, and perhaps I shall start on the long journey too, for your men fight well. God knows best, lads; and there is no fighting yonder-- all is peace." He bowed his head down and went out of the wagon without a word. When Denham asked me a few minutes later what the Boer had said, my voice in reply sounded hoarse and strange, quite unlike my usual tones. We were now in darkness. The coffee was cold; the cakes lay untouched. We were both sunk in a deep interval of musing; but Denham broke the silence at last. "Then we have another night of life, Val," he remarked. "Yes," I replied; "and then the end." "Look here," he said thoughtfully, after he had taken up the coffee-tin and drunk; "that Boer said that he was going over yonder to-night to fight, and that perhaps he would be where we were." "Yes--dead," was my reply. "Perhaps, Val. What do the doctors say?--'While there's life there's hope.'" "I see no hope for us," I said gloomily. "I do," Denham whispered in a low, earnest tone. "We've been too ready to give up hope." I smiled sadly, stretching out my swollen legs. "Yes, I know," said Denham; "but my hands are not powerless now, and I have still a knife in my pocket--the one with which I cut the reins--and it will cut these." His words sent a thrill through me, and I glanced at the two openings in the wagon. "Be careful," I whispered. "All right; but the Boers don't understand English. Look here, Val; if the big friendly fellow is going to fight to-night, what does it mean?" "Of course," I replied excitedly, "an attack upon the fort. They're going to get in when it's dark; and if they do there'll not be half of our poor fellows left by morning." "Couldn't we slip off as soon as it's dark, and warn them? Once we were outside the lines we might run." "Might run?" I said bitterly. "I don't believe we could even stand." "Ah! I forgot that," he muttered, with a groan. "Well, nothing venture, nothing have. It'll be dark enough in a few minutes, and then I shall slip the knife under your ankles and set your legs free. When that's done you can do the same for me." "Suppose the Boers come and examine us?" "We must risk that. Perhaps they'll just come and look at the cords with a lantern. We must sit quite still until they come." "No," I said eagerly; "don't let's cut the rope till they've been. I dare say they'll come for the pannikins, and perhaps that Boer has told them to bring us those rugs again." _ |
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