Part 39 (1/2)
”Now we shall have to look lively, Poynter,” whispered Jack calmly.
”Which part of the job will you take? Will you drive the team, or act as rearguard?”
”I fancy I had better do the driving,” answered Poynter. ”I never was much of a hand with a rifle, while with the ribbons I fancy I take some beating. Tell me what to do, and you can rely upon my carrying it out.”
”Very well,” replied Jack; ”as soon as we are well in the Boer camp at Colenso I will call the Kafir, and when he puts his head in the tent I will ask him for his whip. The sight of my rifle will persuade him to part with it, I have no doubt. Then I will tell him to clear off, and at the same moment you will pick up the reins, which you will find hooked up above, and will set the team going for all they are worth.
You can leave the rest to me.”
”Right!” exclaimed Poynter jovially. ”I'm to keep these mules going, and if anyone or anything gets in the way I am to drive clean over or through them, while you pick off any of the beggars who may be following. Jack, I'll wager a pair of boots that we pull this business off.”
”Can't take you,” answered Jack shortly. ”We're going to get this wagon through at all costs!”
By now the presence of a number of Boer hors.e.m.e.n galloping about, and a collection of houses, showed that the outskirts of Colenso had been reached, but the wagon still kept on. Then a large open s.p.a.ce was reached, evidently in the centre of the town, and a burgher was seen galloping towards them, evidently with orders for them to halt alongside the others already collected there.
”Now is our time,” whispered Jack. Then he tapped on the woodwork and gave a hoa.r.s.e shout. Almost instantly they heard the Kafir driver jump on the plank in front, and a second later he pulled the curtain of the tent aside and thrust his head in. Poynter at once grasped his whip, while Jack presented his rifle at his head.
For a moment the Zulu's eyes nearly started out of his head, and he was speechless with astonishment. Then, with a yell of fear he started back and tumbled off the wagon. Poynter at once stepped out, and, picking up the reins, shook them in a manner that showed he was a practised hand, and with a crack of his whip set the team trotting down the road.
Another crack above their heads and they were cantering, and at this pace he kept them, knowing that he could still expect more of them, and that, however fast he drove, he could never keep ahead of the Boer hors.e.m.e.n.
Meanwhile Jack had thrown himself upon the mealie bags, and, lifting the flap of the tent behind, peered out in readiness to act should they be followed. At first little notice was taken of them, but the Kafir driver had taken to his heels, shouting that his wagon was stolen, and soon there were loud shouts, followed by the crack of rifles and the whistling of bullets through the tent above his head.
”Sit as low as you can, Poynter!” Jack shouted, and his friend, who had also heard the sound of the bullets, crouched down on the driving-board, and, touching up his leaders with his whip, set the team of six mules galloping towards the British camp at their fastest pace.
A second later Jack's rifle spoke out, and was followed by another volley from the Boers, more than thirty of whom had now joined in the chase, while others, hearing the shouts and firing, hurriedly threw themselves into their saddles and came tearing after the lumbering wagon, rising in their stirrups every now and again to discharge their rifles at it.
From Colenso to Chieveley the road stretches across five miles of open veldt, and long before Jack and his friend had driven across half of it a large troop of Boers was pursuing them. But Jack's rifle was already hard at work, and few of his shots went amiss; while in the distance two sudden jets of smoke spurted up into the morning air, and a couple of shrapnel sh.e.l.ls hurtled over the roof of the flying wagon, and bursting in their flight, scattered bullets amongst the hors.e.m.e.n. Once more the smoke from the field-guns shot up, one of the missiles striking the tent of the wagon and ripping it to pieces, while the other landed in the middle of the pursuing Boers. Then a column of dust rose from the far-off camp, and before Poynter could quite make out what was happening, two squadrons of irregular horse came spurring towards them.
At the sight the Boers with one accord turned back, while Poynter pulled in his panting steeds and walked them towards the British camp. Soon they were surrounded by friends. There were hurried questions and explanations, and as soon as it was known that two of the plucky garrison of Ladysmith had escaped, actually bringing a prisoner with them, cheer after cheer rent the air. Then a horseman was sent forward, and when Jack and his friend drove calmly into General Buller's camp the road on either side was lined by soldiers and blue-jackets all shouting a welcome.
Some refreshment was provided, and afterwards Poynter hurried off to the general's quarters, while Jack was offered a bed in an officer's tent, and at once turned in, as he had been awake all night.
On the following morning they were the lions of the camp. Their names were published in the orders for the day as having performed a service of signal danger and great merit, and before the sun had risen an hour they were besieged by an army of correspondents, all eager to hear news of Ladysmith and the narrative of their own escape.
Jack and Poynter held quite an informal reception, for officers flocked to have a chat with them, and for the greater part of the day their attentions were busily engaged in answering the hundreds of questions put to them. As for Jack, just when he believed that he had secured peace at last, and could enjoy the luxury of an hour's quiet before dinner, he was suddenly attacked by a world-famous war-correspondent, who had waited till all his friends were satisfied and till he could get the adventurous despatch-rider to himself. Seated in front of our hero, pen and note-book in hand, this genial man, who had seen perhaps far more of war than the oldest veteran in our forces, skilfully extracted all his news, and by dint of careful questioning even managed to get from the bashful and retiring Jack an account of his early escapade in front of Kimberley.
”Ah, when I was a youngster like you,” he exclaimed, with some animation, ”that despatch-riding was just the kind of work that would have suited me! Mind you, Mr Somerton, I don't forget for one moment that it is really most risky work and requires a deal of pluck, but that is just where the fascination of it all comes in. I suppose, now that you have done so well, you will be given a commission, and that should suit your tastes, being, as you are, the son of an old officer!”
”Yes, I hope some day to have a commission in the service,” Jack answered thoughtfully, ”but I fancy I should prefer it after the war is over. You see, if I were made a subaltern now I should no doubt see lots of fighting, but I should be tied and hampered to a great extent.
I cannot forget that I left friends in Kimberley whom I promised to call upon again, and now that I am safely out of Ladysmith, with nothing in particular to do, I feel all the more inclined to turn my face that way.”
”Ha, ha, ha! Excuse me,” laughed the genial correspondent. ”Of course I had not forgotten that you have friends on the Western border, and no doubt you are anxious to meet one of them at least again. Don't mind my chaff, Somerton. It's the sign of true friends.h.i.+p when one's friends remember one. As to your leaving for Kimberley, I certainly advise you to do so, for you are not likely to see much fun hero; and besides, anyone not belonging to the regulars or volunteers is to be rigorously excluded from General Buller's camp. Ladysmith is a precious tough nut to crack, and to be honest and perfectly candid, I do not believe we shall break our way through the Boers till we have distracted their attention to other quarters, and caused them to weaken their forces here. We are playing a big game, and while we keep Joubert and the Boer army before us by feints and attacks in deadly earnest, we are anxiously awaiting reinforcements to drive them out of Cape Colony, and if possible invade their own territory.”
”In that case,” answered Jack, ”I shall leave as early as possible and join the troops under Lord Methuen; they are twelve miles south of Kimberley, and barred from reaching the town by General Cronje and the impregnable heights of Magersfontein and Spytfontein. Perhaps a despatch-carrier will be wanted, for Mafeking if not for Kimberley, and I shall offer my services.”
A few minutes later, after thanking Jack, the war-correspondent retired to his own tent to write up his despatches, and send them across the telegraph cables to the head offices of the London newspaper for which he worked.
Jack joined the officers of one of the regiments at dinner, and afterwards retired to rest. On the following morning, on mentioning to one of the staff of the general that he was about to set out for Kimberley, a letter was given him describing him and his services, and recommending that he be employed as a despatch-carrier.
Armed with this, Jack took a hearty farewell of young Poynter, and, climbing on board a coal truck which had come along the line to the front filled with ammunition, he was whirled south to Pietermaritzburg.