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The Kopje Garrison: A Story of the Boer War, a fiction by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 23. The Advance |
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_ CHAPTER TWENTY THREE. THE ADVANCE The horse's neigh was hailed with satisfaction by the officers, for it proved that they were going right; and soon after, this idea was endorsed and there was no more doubt as to their being aiming exactly, for right in front the darkness seemed to be intensified, and the advancing party could dimly see the rugged outline of the kopje marked against the sky. Lennox drew a deep breath full of relief, for from what he could see there would be no terrible blundering and fighting their way up precipitous tracks, as the Boers' stronghold was nothing more than a vast mound, easy of ascent; though he did not doubt for a moment but that wherever the ground was fairly level the lower part would be strengthened by breastworks and row after row of wagons, from behind which the Boers would fire. The advancing force tramped on as silently as ever, in spite of the impediments in their way; but there was no alarm, no scout sitting statue-like upon his active, wiry Basuto pony, and farther on no bandolier-belted sentry, rifle in hand, shouted the alarm. They might have been approaching a deserted camp for all the hindrance they met with. It seemed to Lennox, just as others expressed it later on, that it was too good to be true, and the young officer's heart beat fast as, revolver in one hand, sword in the other, he stepped lightly on, prepared for a furious volley from the Boer rifles, being quite certain in his own mind that they must be going right into an ambush. But no--all was safe: and they were so near that at any moment the bugles might sound, to be followed by the rousing cheer of the men in their dashing charge. Suddenly there was a pause, and a thrill ran along the line, for there was something in the way not five yards from Lennox's position in the line. "A sentry!" was whispered, and the line advanced again, for a burgher was lying across the way, fast asleep, and giving warning thereof through the nose--sleeping so hard that the men stepped right over him, he as unconscious as they were that other sentries were failing as much in their wearisome duty and being passed. "It must be now," thought Lennox, as he could dimly make out, spreading to right and left, a line of wagons, but not closed up, for there were wide intervals between; and now a low, dull, crunching sound and the odour of bovine animals plainly announced that there were spans of oxen lying close by the wagons as if ready for some movement in the early morning for which their drivers had made preparations overnight. As it happened, the interval between two of the wagons was fairly wide just opposite the spot where Lennox was in line with his men. Dickenson was off to his left, and Roby was leading. In a whisper the major indicated that the men should close up and pass through this opening, but in the excitement of the moment he spoke too loudly, and from somewhere close, the guard having been passed in the darkness, a man started up and shouted: "Who comes there?" His answer was given by the loud call of a bugle, and as he fired his warning shot the major's voice was heard shouting, "Forward--bayonets!" and with a ringing cheer the men dashed on as best they could, making for the centre of the Boers' position, shouting, cheering again and again, and driving the yelling crowd of excited Boers who were springing up in all directions before them like a flock of sheep. The confusion was awful: rifles were being fired here and there at random, and more often at the expense of friend than of foe; while wherever a knot of the enemy clustered together it was as often to come into contact with their own people as with the major's excited line, which dashed at them as soon as an opening could be found, with such effect that the Boers, thoroughly surprised, gave way in every direction, fleeing from bristling bayonets and overturning one another in their alarm. It was terrible work, for the attacking line was so often arrested by impediments whose nature they could not stop to grasp, that it was soon broken up into little groups led by officers commissioned and non-commissioned. But still, after a fashion, they preserved the formation of an advancing wave sweeping over the kopje, and their discipline acted magnetically with its cohesion, drawing them together, while their enemies scattered more and more to avoid the bayonet as much as to find some shelter from which such of them as had their rifles could fire. It was panic _in excelsis_, and though many fought bravely, using their pieces as clubs where they could not fire, the one line they followed was that of flight for the enclosure behind, where their horses were tethered; and in less than ten minutes the major's force had swept right through the Boer laager on to open ground, where, in response to bugle, whistle, and cry, they rallied, ready for rushing the enemy wherever they could see a knot gathering together to resist, or from which firing had begun. Another five minutes, during which there was desperate work going on near what had been the centre of the attacking line, and the beating of horses' hoofs and trampling feet told that the Boers were in full flight in the direction of the next kopje, where their friends were in all probability sleeping in as much security as had been the case where the attack was made. And now, as soon as the major could get his men in hand, they dropped on one knee to empty the magazines of their rifles into the dimly seen cloud of flying men running and hiding for their lives, the volleys completely dissipating all thoughts of rallying to meet the attacking force; in fact, not a Boer stopped till the next kopje was reached and the news announced of their utter defeat. It was quick but terrible work, for the men's bayonets had been busy. Their blood was up, and they felt that they were avenging weeks of cruel suffering, loss, and injury. But now that the wild excitement of the encounter was at an end, and they were firing with high trajectory at their panic-stricken foes, the bugle rang out "Cease firing!" and they gathered together, flinging up their helmets and catching them on their bayonets, and cheering themselves hoarse. The next minute they were eagerly obeying orders, with the faint light of day beginning to appear in the east, and working with all their might to collect and give first aid to the wounded, whether he was comrade or enemy: no distinction was made; everything possible was done. But before this Major Robson had selected the best runner of his men volunteering for the duty, and sent him off to Groenfontein bearing a hastily pencilled message written upon the leaf of his pocketbook: "Boers utterly routed--kopje and laager taken. Many wounded; send help." For the attacking force had not escaped unhurt, several having received bullet-wounds, as where the Boers could get a chance they fired well; but as far as could be made out in the first hurried examination not a man was dangerously injured, and in most of the cases their hurts were cuts and bruises given by the butts of rifles. As to the Boers, the majority of their hurts were bayonet-thrusts, in some cases the last injuries they would receive; but quite a score were suffering from the small bullet-holes made by the Mauser rifles fired by their friends in their random expenditure of ammunition, such of them as had been shot by our men lying far out on the veldt, having received their wounds during their hurried flight and not yet been brought in. Many of the wounded Boers--there was not a single prisoner, orders having been given not to arrest their flight--looked on in wonder to see the easy-going, friendly way in which our soldiers gave them help. For it was a cheery "Hold up, old chap!" or "Oh, this is not bad; you'll soon be all right again." "Here, Tommy, bring this Dutchman a drink of water." For the fierce warrior was latent once again, and now it was the simple Briton, ready and eager to help his injured brother in the good old Samaritan mode. There was other work in hand to do as soon as it was light enough--the roll to call--and there were missing men to be accounted for; while, as the officers responded to their names, there was no answer to that of Captain Roby. "He was fighting away like a hero, sir, last time I saw him," said Sergeant James, whose frank, manly face was disfigured by a tremendous blow on the cheek. "Search for him, my lads; he can't have been taken prisoner," said the major. "It's getting lighter now." "Poor fellow! I hope he hasn't got it," said Dickenson to himself as he nursed a numbed arm nearly broken by a drive made with a rifle-butt. Lennox was called, and Dickenson's eyes dilated and then seemed to contract, for there was no reply. "Mr Lennox.--Who saw Mr Lennox last?" There was no answer for some seconds, and then from where the wounded lay a feeble voice said, "I saw him running round one of the wagons, sir, just in the thick of the fight." "He must be down," said the major sadly. "Look for him, my lads; he is somewhere on the ground we came along, lying perhaps amongst the Boers." Dickenson groaned--perhaps it was from pain, for his injury throbbed, pangs running right up into the shoulder-joint, and then up the left side of his neck. "Oh! don't say poor old Drew's down," he said to himself. "Just, too, when I was growling at him for not coming to look me up when I was hurt." No one did say he was down but the young lieutenant's imagination, and he sat down on a rock and began watching the men coming and going after bringing in wounded men. "Who said he saw Mr Lennox last?" cried Captain Edwards. "I did," said the wounded man in a feeble, whining voice. "Who's that?" said the major, stepping towards the man, who lay with his face disfigured by a smear of blood. "I did, sir. Dodging round one of the wagons somewhere. It was where the Boers stood a bit, and I got hurt." "Could you point out the place?" "No, sir; it was all dark, and I'm hurt," said the man faintly. "Give him some water," said the captain. "Your hurts shall be seen to soon, my lad. Cheer up, all of you; the major has sent for the ambulance-wagons, so you'll ride home." "Hooray, and thanks, sir!" said the worst wounded man, and then he fainted. Just then, as the first orange-tipped clouds were appearing far on high, four men were seen approaching, carrying a wounded man slung in Sergeant James's sash; and as soon as he caught sight of the injured man's face Major Robson hurried to meet the party. "Roby! Tut, tut, tut!" he cried. "This is bad work. Not dead, sergeant?" "No, sir; but he has it badly. Bullet at the top of his forehead; hit him full, and ploughed up through scalp; but as far as I can make out the bone's not broken." "Lay him down, sergeant. How long will it be," he muttered, "before we get the doctor here? Where did you find him?" "Lying out yonder all alone, beyond those rocks, sir," replied the sergeant. "Water--bandage," said the major, and both were brought, and the best that could be done under the circumstances was effected by the major and Sergeant James, while the sufferer resisted strongly, every now and then muttering impatiently. Then irritably telling those who tended him to let him go to sleep, he closed his eyes, but only to open them again and stare vacantly, just as Dickenson, who had been away for another look round on his own account, came up and bent over him. "Poor fellow!" muttered Dickenson sadly, and he laid his hand sympathetically upon that of the wounded captain. "I don't think it's very serious," said the major. "Look here, Dickenson; we have no time to spare. Take enough men, and set half to round up all the bullocks and sheep you can see, while the others load up three or four wagons with what provisions you can find. Send off each wagon directly straight for camp, and the cattle too, while we gather and blow up all the ammunition and fire the wagons left. It will not be very long before the enemy will be coming back. Hurry." Dickenson was turning to go when the major arrested him. "Any news of Lennox?" he said. "None, sir," said the lieutenant sadly. But his words were nearly drowned by an angry cry from Roby: "The coward! The cur! He shall be cashiered for this." "Go on, Dickenson," said the major; "the poor fellow's off his head. He doesn't mean you." The lieutenant hurried away, and for the next half-hour the men worked like slaves, laying the wounded Boers well away from the laager, and their own injured men out on the side nearest Groenfontein; while Dickenson, in the most business-like manner, helped by Sergeant James, sent off a large drove of oxen, the big, heavy, lumbering animals herding together and trudging steadily away after a wagon with its regular span laden heavily with mealies, straight for Groenfontein. For a few Kaffirs turned up after the firing was over, evidently with ideas of loot, and ready to be impressed for foreloper, driver, or herdsmen to the big drove of beasts. A few horses were rounded up as well, and followed the oxen; while, as fast as they could be got ready, three more provision-wagons were despatched, the whole making a long broken convoy on its way to the British camp. By this time the men, working under the orders of Captain Edwards and the major, had got the Boers' ammunition-wagons together in one place behind a mass of rocks, on the farther side of the kopje, away from the wounded. Then the weapons that could be found were piled amongst the wagons in another place; and the troops were still working hard when the major bade them cease. "We can do no more," he said; "we have no time. But oughtn't the ambulance-wagons to be here by now? The enemy can't be long; they're bound to attack. Ah, Dickenson, have you got all off?" "All I could, sir, in the time." "That's right. I want your men here. You'll be ready to help to get off the wounded as soon as the wagons come?" Dickenson nodded, with his head averted from the speaker and his eyes wandering over the injured men. "No news of Lennox?" he asked. "None. I can't understand where the poor fellow is, unless he was carried off in the rush of the Boers' retreat. A thorough search has been made. Here, get up on the highest part of the kopje with your glass, and see if you can make out anything of the enemy." The lieutenant was in the act of opening the case of his field-glass, when from where the wounded lay came another angry burst of exclamations from Roby, incoherent for the most part, but Dickenson heard plainly, "Coward--cowardly hound! To leave a man like that." Dickenson turned a quick, inquiring look at the major. "Delirium," said the latter sharply. "I don't know what the poor fellow has on his brain. Oh, if the ambulance fellows would only come! There, my dear boy, off with you and use that glass." _ |
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