Part 35 (1/2)
Jack accepted the invitation, and much enjoyed it, for it was the first time he had had a repast out of hospital since he came to Ladysmith.
After lunch he was given a big chair and a large cigar, and ordered to tell the story of the defence of the farmhouse near Kimberley.
He obeyed the order, and had to put up with a good deal of good-natured chaff. Then he drove off with Guy and Rawlings to the football ground.
It was an exciting and fast game, and was closely contested, there being little to choose between the smart riflemen and the brawny Highlanders.
The whole camp was there to look on, and evidently the Boers were also watching through their field-gla.s.ses, for in the midst of a severe tussle, and when the two sides were grouped close together, there was a screaming noise overhead, and a huge Creuzot sh.e.l.l plunged into the middle of them, narrowly missing one man's head, and buried itself deep in the ground.
Instantly the umpire's whistle sounded, and he shouted: ”Half-time, boys!”
A roar of laughter followed, and all the players decamped hastily and threw themselves on the ground. A second later there was a m.u.f.fled roar, sand and earth were driven in all directions, and a large fragment of sh.e.l.l whizzed across the ground, pa.s.sed close to Jack's head, and tore a huge rent in a galvanised-iron shed behind him.
Then the umpire's whistle sounded again, and the game was proceeded with, one and all treating the matter as a joke.
That evening when Jack got back to his tent he was tired out, but by the dim light from a lantern he perused, with many a chuckle, the pages of one of the two papers published in the camp. It was _The Lyre_, and purported to contain nothing but untruths.
On the evening of January 5th, as Jack was reclining on his chair looking round the camp with his field-gla.s.ses, he noticed that amongst the men pa.s.sing to Ladysmith from Intombi Spruit, or ”Funkemburg”, were three whose movements were suspicious. They were dressed like colonial volunteers, and carried rifles. Pa.s.sing separately across the open ground, they pushed forward without hesitation, and, once inside the camp of Ladysmith, walked in the direction of Wagon Hill, where each in turn disappeared into a hut which had been almost smashed to pieces by one of the enemy's sh.e.l.ls.
Jack watched them, curiously at first, wondering why they did not come across from the neutral ground together, and what business they had to be out of the camp; and then suspiciously, for their movements were peculiar. They looked about them cautiously, and one by one dived into the hut. Here they remained, and though he fixed his gla.s.ses in that direction for half an hour there was no sign of them, and they did not even appear when the bugle sounded the ”Fall in!” all over the camp, and the garrison turned out of their tents and formed up for the evening inspection.
”That is queer!” he muttered suspiciously. ”Who can they be? Not civilians, I am sure, for they have no business over in this direction.
I don't like the look of things, and I'll keep my eyes upon those beggars.”
A few minutes later, as Sir George White and his staff rode on to the nearest parade-ground and the guard there presented arms to their commanding-officer, a man slipped out from the back of the hut, and, having peered in all directions, struck the wall with his rifle. Jack fixed his gla.s.ses upon him and waited. Almost immediately two men emerged, and having looked about them suspiciously, fell in, and, shouldering their weapons, marched off towards the heights of Caesar's Camp, with the one who had first left the hut walking by their side.
”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 pa.s.s 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-gla.s.ses. 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, s.n.a.t.c.hing up his rifle, ran across to call Guy Richardson.
”Quick, Guy!” he said, pus.h.i.+ng 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 detour, ran up to the trenches at the top of the hill.