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Charge! - A Story of Briton and Boer, a novel by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 45. A Damper For Our Plans |
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_ CHAPTER FORTY FIVE. A DAMPER FOR OUR PLANS I had hardly ceased speaking when a couple of our guards appeared at the back of the wagon, and climbed in after they had tossed in the two big rugs they had taken away when the German doctor came to examine us. Though anxious to dart a quick glance at Denham, I dared not, for at the first glance I saw that each man was provided with a rein. Taking our tins and passing them to two men whose rifle-barrels appeared above the back of the wagon, they returned to where we sat up and carefully examined our bonds, one of them giving a grunt and speaking to his companion as he pointed to them. They next dragged our arms roughly behind us, slipping our hands through running nooses, which they drew tight before winding the thongs round and round, securing them as firmly as ever. "You needn't have done that," I said angrily to the man who, while tying me up, had roused my resentment by his brutality. "We'll take them off in the morning, when the Captain comes," he replied. The other man laughed. They had finished their task deftly enough. "That's the way we tie up a Kaffir," said the first one. "Yes," replied the other; "and it does just as well for a spy. There, you may thank the field-cornet, Piet Zouter, for the skin-rugs. You wouldn't have got them from us." "Then we won't thank you," I said bitterly. "And look here; we've six men with loaded rifles about the wagon, and they've orders to shoot if you try to get away." I nodded my head. One of the Boers lifted down the lantern, passed it out, and received a fresh one from a comrade. After this the men retired; and we were alone, listening to their talk, with the sentries placed over us. When the conversation ceased I whispered to Denham an interpretation of all that had passed. "The brutes!" he muttered. "Lucky we hadn't cut our ropes; they would have found us out. Now, what's to be done? We must get away." "How?" I asked sadly. "Let's draw the rugs over us, lie down, and keep on trying till we can wriggle out of the thongs." "How are we to get the rugs over us?" "As a bird makes a nest--with the beak." I laughed bitterly. Then we each tried in turn, but vainly, and afterwards lay back panting and in great pain. "I know," I said. I called aloud to the sentries. There was a rush, and a man appeared at once, his rifle rattling against the back of the wagon. I told him what we wanted, and in a grumbling way he climbed in and did as requested, spreading one _karosse_ and drawing the other as a cover up to our chins. "Now loosen the reins about our wrists," I said; "they hurt dreadfully." The man laughed. "It isn't for long," he answered brutally. "Do you want to try to escape, so as to be shot before morning?" With this parting sally, he climbed out of the wagon, leaving us alone. We lay still for about half-an-hour, when the sentries looked in from front and back to see us lying as if asleep; but as soon as they had gone we began a hard struggle to get our wrists free. In this attempt we only gave ourselves excruciating pain, and found, to our despair, that the knots of the Boers were far too well tied to be loosened. At last, with a groan, Denham gave up the attempt. I desisted then, having only waited for him to set the example. "What does that sound mean?" asked Denham after a time. "Moving horses," I replied. "Yes; they're going to take advantage of the darkness for an advance against the fort. Oh dear! We shall have to lie here and listen to the firing soon. Val, I don't think I'd mind being shot in the morning if I could only warn the Colonel. Do you think you could gnaw through my rein?" "I'll try," I said; and Denham was about to turn his back to me when we heard a sound behind us--that is to say, at the front of the wagon-- which we knew to be caused by one of the sentries looking in. It soon ceased; but just as I was going to fix my teeth in the thong which bound my companion's wrists there came another noise at the foot, and then again there was silence. But not so at a short distance, for we could hear whispered orders plainly enough as we lay still, followed by the tramp of horses' feet, and now and then the clink of bit or buckle, which gave ample intimation that the Boers were slowly making an advance, not to invest the fort more closely in a contracted ring, but, as far as we could make out, in our direction. "They're marching in troops, I believe," whispered Denham, "and they must be making for the gateway. Then they'll dismount and deliver an attack. They mean to take the place by assault." "And we are to go through the agony of lying here and listening all the while, perfectly helpless. Oh Denham, they'll never carry the place-- will they?" "Not unless it's quite a surprise," he replied. "Oh no," he added more confidently; "our lads will be too smart for that." "They'll try hard," I said, "and fail, losing a great number of men, and they'll come back at daybreak mad with rage." "And shoot us," said Denham coolly. "That's it." "Let me try at your knots now." "No. Listen; the sentries are coming in again." He was right; for, as if suspicious, the sentries climbed in, four strong, two standing with rifles at the ready, while the others stripped down the top rug and carefully examined our wrists and ankles, then spread the _karosse_ over us once more, uttering grunts of satisfaction as they did so. Alone again, we lay listening for the movements of the Boer troops: but the sounds had nearly died out. Then the sentries began to talk together earnestly, and it seemed as if the man on duty in front of the wagon had joined those at the back, with the result that the conversation was becoming excited. "They're on the lookout after the advance," whispered Denham. "It seems to be very dark outside. I believe it will not be long before we hear the attack begin." "No; they'll wait till our men are asleep." "Perhaps," said Denham; "but it must be getting late. Our fellows may be asleep now." "Yes," I replied, with a sigh; and then irritably, "Why did you do that? You can whisper." "What do you mean?" he asked after a pause. "Hitting me on the hands like that. You hurt me dreadfully." "I didn't--" he began; but I stopped him with an excited "Hush!" and lay perfectly still, the perspiration starting out all over me. "What is it?" whispered Denham, after waiting for some time. "What's that gnawing and tearing sound?" "Something under the wagon," I replied very softly. "A lion?" he whispered. "No; some one as brave as a lion. He has been cutting a long slit in the _karosse_, and now he has hold of my wrists with one hand, and he's sawing with a knife through the thong with the other." "Val!" panted the poor fellow wildly. The hot perspiration on my face turned icily cold at this cry, for I heard a quick movement among the sentries, and two of them sprang up on the wagon to look at us lying there upon our backs beneath the upper _karosse_, under the yellow light of the lantern. I thought now all was over; the new hope had faded out into darkness; but a measure of confidence returned when Denham, feigning sleep, muttered, and uttered a sob which ended in a low, uneasy groan. My eyes not being quite shut, I could dimly see through the narrow slit the faces of two of the Boers, one showing his teeth in a grin as they drew back and returned to their companions, when the talking began again. As this went on I felt the sawing movement of the knife being resumed, the two active hands which had been passed between the slits in the wagon-bottom working more rapidly. Then there was a pause, and I felt terrible pain as something thin and hard was passed under one of the bands before the sawing recommenced. I could hardly repress a cry of pain; but silence meant perhaps liberty and life. I knew, too, that it was a piece of iron that had been thrust in for the knife to cut down upon and save my wrist from a wound. Just then Denham whispered, "I couldn't help it, old chap; but I cheated them afterwards. Is he still cutting?" "Yes; he has gone through the reins on my wrists, and has begun at my ankles." "Val," whispered Denham again, with his face below the great rug, "it's that big black angel of a fellow, Joeboy." "No," I said softly, though I could hardly utter my thoughts, my voice panting with emotion. "It's not Joeboy: the hands are too small. It's my brother come to our help." I knew now that my previous night's experience was not a dream, and that Bob really was in the Boer camp with my father, and had crept under the wagon and whispered hope. "Are there two Val Morays in the world?" murmured poor Denham, with something which sounded very much like a sob. Lying perfectly still, I made no answer. I knew that the knife had set my ankles free; but they were still tethered, not by raw-hide rope but with insensibility, as if perfectly dead. "They will come right in time," I thought, my heart meanwhile beating fast. "Bob will tell us what to do. Will it be to make our escape when the attention of the Boer sentries is taken off us by the coming attack upon the fort?" Then I was listening to a low tearing sound as of the knife passing once more through the skin-rug, and directly after I heard Denham begin to breathe hard. I understood what that meant. Making a slight effort, as I lay covered up, I brought my arms out from beneath me, numbed and aching but not powerless, and thrust my left hand inside my flannel shirt, my fingers coming in contact with the butt of my revolver. "My hands are free, Val," Denham whispered faintly. "Feel for your revolver," I whispered back. "Hist! Careful"--for I could plainly hear the Boer sentries coming towards the wagon again, and the faint cutting noise ceased as the talking stopped. One of the men placed his hand on the back of the great vehicle, and was in the act of climbing in, doubtless to examine our fastenings again. My left hand now clutched my revolver tightly, though I knew that we could do nothing, in our helpless state, to save ourselves. "Oh, how hard!" I thought; "just when there was a chance of life!" Then my breath seemed to stop short, for the sound of a shot came to us from out of the distance where the Boer advance must be. This checked the climbing Boer. Then another shot, and another. He had dropped back to join his companions, who were doubtless gazing towards the fort, where the firing was rapidly increasing into a perfect storm. I heard no more of the cutting; but Denham whispered that his feet were free, and almost at the same moment a hand felt for my face and then seized my ear as if to pull it down to the owner of that hand. Understanding what was wanted, I turned over on my right side and laid my ear against the opening, listening. "Don't try to get up," buzzed into it, and seemed to set my brain whirling. "The Boers are making a great attack on the fort, and you two must try and creep out while the sentries are listening to the firing. Can you both run?" "We could not stand up to save our lives," I whispered. "Our legs are quite numb and dead." "Then I must carry you to where father is waiting," was whispered. I uttered a low sigh of misery, for I knew that was impossible. The Boers must hear the movements, even if so young a lad as my brother had possessed sufficient strength. "Lie still, and sham sleep," was the advice from below. "Your legs will get better. The Boers won't be back for hours yet. Hark!" There was no need to speak, for the firing grew louder and louder, as if echoing from the walls of the fort, not much more than half a mile from where we lay; and I was thinking that a terrible assault might be made, when my brother whispered again: "The Boers mean to take the place to-night. Now, do as I say. Pretend to sleep. I'm going to fetch father." He had hardly ceased speaking when there was a rush of feet, and one of our guards scrambled up at the back, rifle in hand; but he contented himself with looking in when he saw us lying apparently unmoved beneath the rug. "Hear that?" he said loudly. "Yes," I replied as calmly as I could. "There'll be hundreds more prisoners to shoot in the morning. Lie still, you two, for if you try to move we'll serve you like jackals on the veldt." At that moment he turned sharply to listen, and I listened too. As the Boer suddenly leaped down, uttering a warning cry, I sat up, and Denham followed my example; for there was a rushing sound in the darkness from the side opposite that fronting the fort, and the tramp of many feet, followed by the ringing notes of a bugle, taken up by another and another, succeeded by so close a volley that the wagon lantern looked dim in the flashes from the rifles. Then came a ringing cheer, bugle-notes sounding the charge; and in the darkness, with cheers that thrilled us through and through, a couple of regiments rushed the Boer lines from the rear with the bayonet. Charge!--by George Manville Fenn _ |
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