Part 33 (1/2)

”Why, who's this?” the officer demanded a second later, as Guy was brought up a prisoner and halted in front of him between two Highlanders with fixed bayonets.

”Don't know, sir,” one of the men answered shortly, with a Scotch accent. ”He was firing away like mad down the hill, and there were a couple of dead Boers at his feet lying over a pile of rifles.”

”That's my friend who was helping me, Rawlings,” Jack explained hastily.

”Look here; how long are you likely to be on this hill?”

”Just as long as it takes to blow this infernal gun to pieces,” the officer coolly replied. ”Why do you want to know? Can I help you?”

”Yes, we left a poor English lady and her child down there,” Jack answered, pointing down the hill. ”I'll go and fetch her, and then we will all get back together.”

”That'll suit me, Somerton,” Rawlings replied. ”A lady in distress, old boy, and you never need appeal twice to a soldier. Cut along then, and get back as soon as you can. Sergeant, detail three men to help. Quick about it, lads! Sing out when you're near again.”

A minute later Jack and his escort were tearing down the hill, and having found Mrs Robb, returned with her to their friends.

”Ah! you're there, are you, Somerton?” Rawlings cried calmly. ”All right then! slip along down the hill and we'll follow you. Now, where's the lantern? That's it. Line the top of the hill, boys, till the fuse begins to splutter. Then we'll run for it.”

It was an exciting moment, and Jack, who had stayed behind, revelled in it, for this was just the kind of hazardous work that he enjoyed. But by this time the fuse was burning brightly, and the Highlanders fell back, having placed a heavy charge of gun-cotton in the breech of the Creuzot gun.

Five minutes later there was a loud report, and the breech had been blown to atoms and the rifling destroyed.

But it must not be supposed that all this time the sortie party had been left undisturbed. On the contrary, a dash, which had at first been merely in the nature of a gallant attempt to destroy a gun which had annoyed the garrison in the camp below, had now developed into a sharp affair. Recovering from their first surprise, the Boers on the left of the hill had leapt from their hard couches, and had moved upwards against the British troops in extended order. Soon their bullets began to swish close to the gun, and one or two of the Highlanders were wounded. But the others lay down behind boulders, and soon their rifle fire was answering the flashes below.

Immediately the fuse had become fairly alight the officer drew off his men, and, carrying the wounded, moved down the hill towards the camp. A minute later and Mrs Robb and her child were in the centre.

”Look out, sir!” the sergeant shouted at this moment; ”they've got between us and the camp!”

”Then are you ready with those bayonets?” Rawlings cried cheerfully.

”Charge right through them!”

Five minutes of wild, fierce fighting followed, for British troops, whether English, Irish, or Scotch, are perfect demons when their blood is roused and they are armed with that deadly weapon which none know better how to use. It seems to be an understood thing with them that, however much firing of guns there may be, and however thickly the bullets may fly, matters are not satisfactory and ended as they should be unless the bugle sounds ”the charge”, and they rush with a cheer and hurl themselves upon the enemy.

The brave Highlanders, with their kilts blowing from side to side, rushed headlong at the Boers, and simply split them into two parties.

Then they turned upon each one, and with a savage fierceness and a splendid disregard of the danger they incurred, forged a way into them and thrust them back at the points of the murderous bayonets.

Prominent amongst them was the giant who had ended Hans Schloss's career, and by his side, using a bayonet which he had taken from a wounded soldier, was Jack Somerton, using it too with a vigour and a quickness which sent many a Boer to his last account.

”Get together there, me boys!” the Highlander by his side shouted.

”Now, at 'em! Remember Majuba, and give them a taste of your steel!”

His comrades answered with a hoa.r.s.e cheer, and shouting ”Remember Majuba!” fell upon the remaining Boers and put them to flight. Then they picked up those who had fallen and returned slowly to the camp, a rearguard marching behind them and answering the volleys discharged at them with a brisk fusillade.

Soon they were out of harm's way, and stepped forward to the inspiriting wail of a bagpipe. About half an hour later it became light, and the whole garrison of Ladysmith who were free to do so turned out to welcome them. They had heard the firing, seen the flash of the gun-cotton which had destroyed the gun, and so learned that some of their number were making a sortie. It was a surprise to them as much as to the enemy; but to have published the news the day before would have meant a certain reverse, for in the town and camp, fraternising with our troops, were still men bought with Pretoria gold--spies and traitors who lived in the guise of harmless and refugee civilians, and yet were ready to send news of intended movements to the Boers.

But now that the sortie was an accomplished fact, and had proved such a signal success, the troops flocked out in hundreds and cheered the gallant party, relieving of their burdens those who were carrying the wounded.

Then a couple of ambulance wagons galloped up, and while one of them halted and took in the poor fellows, the other went ahead, one of the surgeons climbing in behind. A few hundred yards farther on a sh.e.l.l dropped and exploded near them, and a groan burst from all who were watching; for the work done for all who were helpless or hurt, by the medical staff, had already roused a feeling of deep grat.i.tude in the hearts of the men.

Undaunted by the sh.e.l.l, and by another which quickly followed it, the ambulance wagon galloped on, a white flag with the red cross of Geneva flying above it. On arriving close to the hill, the surgeon was seen to leap out, and, followed by four stretcher-bearers, to walk hither and thither in search of the one or two men who had been left behind. Soon they found them, in the midst of a pile of wounded Boers, and, carrying them to the wagon, returned to the camp at a leisurely pace, the enemy this time letting them go unmolested.