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The Kopje Garrison: A Story of the Boer War, a fiction by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 26. "A Coward!--A Cur!" |
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_ CHAPTER TWENTY SIX. "A COWARD!--A CUR!" It was about an hour later, when the wounded had been seen to by the surgeon--who reported very favourably on the men, whose injuries were for the most part the result of blows from rifle-butts received in the struggle on the kopje--that two of the scouts who had been left to watch the Boers came in with a sufferer dangerously injured by a rifle-bullet. Dickenson's heart gave a throb as he saw the men, and being off duty, he hurried to meet them, in the hope and belief that they had found Lennox. But it was one of their companions. The men's report was that the Boers had come steadily on as the British force retreated, and had then been busily engaged collecting their dead and wounded, paying no heed to the little outpost watching them till their task was done, when, as the last of their wagons moved off, they began firing again, till one of the outposts fell, and the others remained too well covered, staying till the firing had ceased, and then hurrying back. "Poor old Lennox!" said Dickenson to himself. Then, seeing that Sergeant James was watching him, he shook his head. "I was hoping that they were bringing in Mr Lennox, sir," said the sergeant gloomily. "Of course, seeing the temper the enemy is in after their defeat, it would be like getting some of our fellows murdered if the colonel gave me leave to go out with a white flag." "I'm afraid so too," said Dickenson. "But what about as soon as it's dark, sir? Think the colonel would let us go to make a better search? He must be near the Boers' laager where we missed him." "I was thinking something of the sort," said Dickenson. "Will you go with me, James?" "Will I go with you, sir?" cried the sergeant. "Wouldn't I go through anything to try and get him back? You'll ask the colonel to name me, sir?" "If he gives consent," said Dickenson warmly. "He'll tell me to take two or three men, and of course I shall pick you for one." "Thankye, sir; and don't you be down-hearted. You're fagged now, sir, with all we've done since we started, and that explosion gave you a horrid shaking up. You go to your quarters, sir, as soon as the colonel has given leave, and lie down--flat on your back, sir--and sleep till it's time for starting. I'll have the others ready, and I'll rouse you up, sir." "Very well, sergeant," said the young officer. "I must own to being a bit down." As soon as the sergeant had left him, the young officer went to the colonel's quarters and asked to see him. "Come in, Dickenson," said the chief, and he held out his hand. "Thank you, my lad," he said. "I've heard all about what you've done. Very good indeed. I sha'n't forget it in my despatch, but when it will get to headquarters is more than I can tell. I'm glad you have come. What can I do for you?" Dickenson stated his wishes, and the colonel looked grave. "I don't know what to say, Dickenson," he replied. "It would be a very risky task. I have scouts out, but I doubt whether they'll be able to tell whether the enemy is still holding the kopje. If he is, you will run a terrible risk. I've just lost one of my most promising young officers; I can't spare another." "I was afraid you would say so, sir. But Drew Lennox and I have always been regular churns together, and it seems horrible to settle down quietly here in safety and do nothing to try and find him." "It does, my dear sir; but we soldiers have to make sacrifices in the cause of duty." "Yes, sir; but we've had a splendid bit of luck since last night. Can't you strain a point?" The colonel smiled. "Well, it's hardly fair to call it luck, Dickenson," he said. "I think some of it's due to good management. Eh?" "Yes, sir; you are quite right." "Well there, then, if you'll promise me to run no risks with the lads, and return if you find the enemy still at the kopje, I'll give you leave to take a sergeant and a couple of men and go." Dickenson looked pleased and yet disappointed. "We might find him somewhere near, sir, even if the Boers are there," he said. "In the darkness of a moonless night, with men on the _qui vive_ ready to fire at the slightest sound?" "We got well into the laager last night, sir, with a hundred and fifty men," said Dickenson in tones of protest. "But you wouldn't get in to-night with one, and such an enterprise against either of the other laagers would now be impossible. There, I can make no further concessions, for all your sakes, so be content." "You are right, sir, and I am wrong," replied Dickenson quietly. "You will retire, then, directly you find the place occupied?" "Yes, sir." "Go, then, as soon as it is dark. You can pick two men who can ride, take three of the captured Bechuana ponies, and one can hold them while the others search." "Thank you, sir." "But I have no hope of your finding him, Dickenson. This is solely from a desire that we may feel we have done all we can do in such a case. Now I am busy. You have been up all night, and nearly been killed. Go and lie down for a few hours' sleep." The young officer left the colonel's presence, and had no trouble in finding the sergeant, for he was watching for his return, and heard with eagerness the result. "Ride? Capital, sir; make us fresher for our work. We shall find him. I don't believe he's dead. Now you'll take a rest, sir. I'll have the ponies ready, and the men." Dickenson gave him the names of the two men he would like to take, but had to give up one. "Can't sit a horse, sir; hangs on its back like a stuffed image. Now Jeffson, sir, was a gentleman's groom. Ride anything. I wonder he isn't in the cavalry." "Very well, then; warn Jeffson. There, I am done up, sergeant. I trust you to rouse me as soon as it's dark." "Right, sir. But one word, sir." "What is it?" "Captain Roby, sir. Keeps off his head, sir. Going on awfully. Doctor Emden says it's due to the bullet striking his skull." "Dangerous?" said Dickenson anxiously. "Oh no, sir; but he keeps on saying things that it's bad for the men to hear; and that Corporal May, he's nearly as bad. He thinks he's worse. He's within hearing, and every time the captain says anything, Master Corporal May begins wagging his head and crying, and tells the chaps about him that it's all right." "Poor fellow! There, I'll go and see them before I lie down." "No, sir; please, don't," said the sergeant earnestly. "You've done quite enough for one day." "Confound it, man! don't dictate to me," cried Dickenson testily. "Certainly not, sir. Beg your pardon, sir; but we've got a heavy job on to-night, and it's my duty to warn you as an old soldier." "What do you mean?" "I mean, sir, that I've had twenty years' experience, and you've had two, sir. A man can only do so much; when he has done that and tries to do more, he shuts up all at once. I don't want you to shut up, sir, to-night. I want you to lead us to where we can find Mr Lennox." "Of course, sergeant. I know you always mean well. Don't take any notice of my snappish way." "Not a bit, sir," said the man, smiling. "It's only a sign that, though you don't know it, you're just ready to shut up." "But, hang it all, man!" said the young officer, with a return of his irritable manner, "I only want to just see my brother officer for a few minutes." "Yes, sir, I know," said the sergeant stubbornly; "but you're better away. He's right off his head, and abusing everybody. If you go he'll say things to you that will upset you more than three hours' sleep will wipe out." "Oh, I know what you mean now--what he said before--about my being a coward and leaving him in the lurch." "Something of that sort, sir," replied the sergeant. "Poor fellow! Well, perhaps it would be as well, for very little seems to put me out. It was the shock of the explosion, I expect. There, sergeant, I'll go and lie down." "I'll bring you a bit of something to eat, sir, when I come. There's plenty now." "Ah, to be sure; do," said the young man. "But I could touch nothing yet. Remember: as soon as it is quite dark." "Yes, sir; as soon as it is quite dark." Dickenson strode away, and the sergeant uttered a grunt of satisfaction. "Poor fellow!" he muttered. "It would have made him turn upon the captain. Nobody likes to be called a coward even by a crank. It would have regularly upset him for the work. Now then, I'll just give those two fellows the word, and then pick out the ponies. Next I'll lie down till the roast's ready. We'll all three have a good square meal, and sleep again till it's time to call Mr Dickenson and give him his corn. After that, good-luck to us! We must bring that poor young fellow in, alive or dead, and I'm afraid it's that last." Meanwhile Dickenson had sought his quarters, slipped off his accoutrements and blackened tunic, and thrown himself upon his rough bed. It was early in the afternoon, with the sun pouring down its burning rays on the iron roofing of his hut, and the flies swarming about the place. As a matter of course over-tired, his nerves overwrought with the excitement of what he had gone through, and his head throbbing painfully, he could not go to sleep. Every time he closed his eyes his ears began to sing after the same fashion as they did directly following the explosion, and after tossing wearily from side to side for quite an hour, he sat up, feeling feverish and miserable. "I'm making myself worse," he thought. "I know: I'll go down to the side of the stream, bathe my burning head and face, and try and find a shady place amongst the rocks." He proceeded to put his plan into execution, resuming his blackened khaki jacket and belts, and started off, to find a pleasant breeze blowing, and, in spite of the afternoon sunshine, the heat much more bearable than inside his hut. His way led him in the direction of the rough hospital, and as he drew near, to his surprise he heard Captain Roby's voice speaking angrily, and Dickenson checked himself and bore off to his right so as to go close by the open door. "Poor fellow!" he said. "I must see how he is." He went into the large open hut in which the captain had been placed by the doctor's orders, because it was one in which the sides had been taken off so as to ensure a good current of air. As the young officer entered he caught sight of two others of the injured lying at one end, and noted that the wounded corporal was one. Both men were lying on their backs, perfectly calm and quiet; but Roby was tossing his hands about impatiently and turning his head from side to side, his eyes wide open, and he fixed them fiercely upon his brother officer as he entered. "How does he seem, my lad?" said Dickenson to the attendant, who was moistening the captain's bandages from time to time. "Badly, sir. Quite off his head." "Ah! Cur!--coward!" cried Roby, glaring at him. "Coward, I say! To leave me like that and run." "Nonsense, old fellow!" said Dickenson, affected just as the sergeant had said he would be; and his voice sounded irritable in the extreme as he continued, "Drop that. You said so before." "Who's that?" cried Roby, with his eyes becoming fixed. "Me, old fellow--Dickenson. Not a coward, though." "Who said you were?" "Why, you did, over and over again." "A lie! No. I said Lennox. Ah! To run for his miserable life--a coward--a cur!" "What!" cried Dickenson angrily; but Roby lay silent as if exhausted, and, to the young officer's horror and disgust, a womanly sob came from the corporal's rough pallet at the end of the hut, and in a whining voice he moaned: "Yes, sir; he don't mean you, but Mr Lennox, sir. I saw him run, and it's all true." _ |
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