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Charge! - A Story of Briton and Boer, a novel by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 46. How We Were Saved |
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_ CHAPTER FORTY SIX. HOW WE WERE SAVED
"Hurrah!" We yelled together with all our might; but our cheers sounded like whispers amidst the noises of firing in front and the rush of men from the rear. The Boer sentries, however, were true to their duty even in the midst of the terrible confusion in their lines; and four of them made at once, rifle in hand, for the wagon. But we were mad with excitement now, and _crack, crack_, our revolvers began to speak. Our shots and the rapid advance of the soldiers made them turn and flee. Then came the crash: the cheering and bayonet-work of the charge, as our men dashed through the Boer lines, scattering them, horse and man, across the veldt, panic-stricken. "Denham," I cried excitedly; "my friends!" He said nothing for a moment; then, unable to give me comfort, he said, "Oh, if the Colonel could only bring our fellows out now and charge!" Just then bugles rang out the recall, and in the midst of the many sounds Bob's voice rose from the front of the wagon: "In here, father-- quick!" The pair had only just clambered in when we heard the shouting of an order and tramping of feet, and half a company of foot with fixed bayonets dashed up to the wagon, the light within having attracted attention. At the moment it looked like escaping from one great peril to plunge into another; but, frantic with excitement, Denham saved us by his shout: "Hurrah! Prisoners; help!" A young officer sprang into the wagon, sword in hand, followed by half-a-dozen of his men with bayonets levelled at us; but the officer halted the men. "Prisoners," he cried excitedly, "or a ruse?" "Get out!" shouted Denham. "Do you take me for a Dutchman? Look at our hands and feet." A sergeant sprang forward and took the swinging lantern from the hook, opened its door, and, as he held it down, they saw our horribly swollen and useless limbs, with the hide-thongs just freshly cut through. "Who did that?" asked the young officer. "My young brother here," I said quickly; "we were just going to try and escape." "Ah!" cried the young man sharply, as an angry murmur ran round the group. "You couldn't escape with feet like that. I mean, who tied you up in that brutal way?" "The Boers!" cried Denham passionately, for his face was convulsed, and he looked hysterical and weak now. The soldiers uttered a fierce yell, and as others crowded to back and front I heard a burst of excited ejaculations, oaths, and threats. "'Tention!" shouted the officer. "Now then," he cried, "who are you? Oh, I see you both belong to the Light Horse." "Yes," I said, for Denham was speechless. "They took us last night as we were trying to creep through their lines to come to you for help." "Ah!" cried the officer. "They said we were spies, and we were to be shot at daybreak." "We've come and shot them instead," said the officer. His men inside and out burst into a wild cheer. "But who are these? Boers?" "No," I cried quickly. "My father and brother, who came to help us to escape." "That's right," cried the officer, and the firing and cheering went on near at hand. Then he added hastily, "Sergeant and four men stop and help these gentlemen to the rear. Now, my lads, forward!" He sprang out into the darkness, followed by his men, and we were left together, with my father down upon his knees holding me to his breast, and his lips close by my ear murmuring softly two words again and again--"Thank God! Thank God!" while Bob held on to one of my hands, jerking it spasmodically; and then I heard him cry out to one of the soldiers, "Don't stare at me like that! I can't help it. You'd be as bad if you were as young." "What!" cried a rough voice. "Why, I'm 'most as bad, and I'm six-and-thirty; and here's big George wiping one eye on his cuff." "Sweat, Sergeant, sweat," growled a rough voice, and there was a laugh from other three men. "That was a lie, George," said the Sergeant. "Why don't you own up like a man?" "Well, 'nuff to make any one turn soft when he's cooling down after a fight like this. Look at them two poor fellows here." "Ah!" came in chorus, as the men standing around bent down in sympathy. "'Tention!" cried the Sergeant. "Here. Files one and three mount guard front and rear of this dropsical timber-wagon. Two and four get some water. First aid here. Stop a minute. No; kneel down and just rub their legs gently as if you were trying to take out those furrows made by the ropes.--Why, your legs and feet are like stone, sir." "Are they?" said Denham, quietly now, as he reached forward to shake the Sergeant's hand. "I didn't know--I don't feel as if I had any legs at all. There," he added excitedly, "I want to shake hands with you all round. It's so much better than being shot in the morning." "Ay--ay!" cried the men eagerly. "Oh, never mind our hurts." "But we must, sir. I didn't know you were an orfficer at first," said the Sergeant. "I say, look at your head." "I can't," said Denham, with a faint attempt at mirth which was very pitiful. "Well, I can, sir, and you can look at your comrade's. Did the Boers do that too?" "No," cried Denham fiercely; "it was a brute of a renegade Irishman serving with the Boers." "Is he out yonder now, sir?" said the Sergeant, giving his head a side jerk in the direction from which, in the darkness, came the sound of cheering and scattered shots. "Yes, I believe so," said Denham. "Then I'm sorry for him, that's all," said the Sergeant dryly. "Ah! Do you think your men are whipping them?" "Think!" cried the Sergeant scornfully. "Think, sir? Why, we've got at 'em at last with the bay'net. They've been playing at shooting behind a stone and firing at a target--targets being us--till we've been sick of it, and then up on horse and gallop away; but we've got at 'em at last with the bay'net, and there's no need to think." "But," I cried excitedly, as I strained my ears to listen, "they're coming back." "Eh?" cried the Sergeant. "Here, files two and four support one and three. Hold your fire till they're close in, and then receive 'em on your bay'nets." The two men who were chafing our deadened ankles sprang to their places, while my brother reached out of the side of the wagon and dragged in two rifles, evidently their own, and Denham and I cocked the revolvers we had thrust back into our breasts. "That's good business, gentlemen," said the Sergeant grimly. "I like to see reinforcements when one's in a tight place." He patted Bob on the shoulder as my brother took his place beside the two soldiers at the front of the wagon, my father going to the back. "You can shoot, then, my lad?" "Oh yes," said Bob quietly. "My father taught me five years ago." "That's right," said the Sergeant, and he set the lantern on one side and covered it closely with one of the rugs. "Now, silence. We don't want to invite attack. Here they come! They're mounted men, and they may sweep past. Hear that bugle?" he said to me. "Yes," I replied, almost below my breath. "Officers hear them coming. Prepare for cavalry. Here they come. They've rallied, and--No, no. Hark! Hark! Hurrah! No, no; don't cheer, my lads. They're racing for their lives, and there's a line of cavalry after them." "Hurrah, Val!" shouted Denham wildly. "Our Light Horse out and at 'em at last!" "Oh," I groaned, "and we not with them now!" "But they're sweeping after them in full charge, and sabring right and left. Look--look! I can see it all. No, no," he groaned; "it's as dark as pitch.--But they're scattering them, Sergeant?" "Like chaff, sir, and--Hark at that!" _Crack! crack_! Two volleys rang out. "I hope that has not gone through to friends," growled the Sergeant. "Ah, all right, gentlemen; there goes the 'Cease firing.' They know your Light Horse have been let loose. The Boers won't stand after this, so we may sing 'God save the Queen!' 'Rule Britannia!' and the rest of it. This fight's won, boys. Silence in the ranks!" He was just in time to stop a cheer, after which we listened to the sounds of the engagement or pursuit, now growing more distant, and I asked a question or two of my father, who now returned to my side. "Your aunt, my boy? She is safe in Pietermaritzburg. The farmhouse was burned to the ground, all the sheep and cattle commandeered, and your brother and I forced into the Boer ranks." I could ask no more questions for a few moments; but Denham was not restrained by his feelings, and I heard him ask the Sergeant: "But how was it you came to the help of the Light Horse, Sergeant? Did you know we were shut up?" "Not till yesterday morning or this morning at daybreak, sir. The General knew your corps was missing, and that there was a strong force of Boers camped out this way; but we were precious badly shut up ourselves, and could get no proper communications for want of cavalry. Our officers did nothing but swear about your corps for keeping away when they would have been so useful." "But how did you get to know at last?" "Through a big nigger dressed up in two white ostrich-feathers, a bit of skin, and an assagai and shield for walking-stick and cloak. He brought the news, and as soon as the General had proved him a bit, two foot-regiments, ours and 'Yallow Terror Tories,' were sent off to make a forced march. That black--Joeboy he called himself--brought us up within striking distance, and then he went off to warn them in that old ruin that we were coming, so that they might be ready to copyrate with us." "But didn't they suspect that the black might be going to lead you into a trap?" "At first, sir; but when he took our young lieutenant and some of our fellows as scouts, with orders to shoot him on the slightest sign of treachery, and he showed us where the Boers lay in the plain, and where we could take possession of a kopje on to which our men could march and act quite unseen, and where we could have defended ourselves against ten times our number, we knew it was all right." "And you got there unseen?" said Denham. "That's right, sir; and then the Colonel in command of both lots let this Crystal Minstrel go to warn the cavalry." "He has done his work cleverly, Sergeant, or our corps could not have worked with you so well." "That's right again, sir. I quite took to that chap, Joeboy, as he called himself; but it's a pity he's so jolly black." I had been listening quietly while all this talk went on; but, with a heavy and fast-increasing feeling of depression, I could restrain myself no longer, and exclaimed, "Oh Denham, suppose the poor fellow's killed!" "What, sir!" cried the Sergeant cheerily. "Killed? Who's to kill a chap like that on a dark night? Nobody could see where to hit. Besides, he goes through grass and bushes and rocks like a short, thick boa-constructor. He'll turn up all right. Hurrah! Hear that?" We could hear, distinctly enough, repeated bugle-calls and the frantic cheering of our men. Our little forces had gained a complete victory, scattering the enemy in all directions, the morning light showing the terrible destruction caused by our onslaught. _ |
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