Charge! Part 65

I nodded, though it occurred to me directly afterwards that he could not see the nod; but I showed him that I fully understood by bearing off to the left, crawling steadily and softly, and feeling Denham's hand come tap, tap regularly upon my heel. All the time I had a presentiment that the Boers must be lying around by the hundred.

In another minute I knew we must be close to oxen, for I could hear them ruminating; and, convinced that a wagon would be before us, with perhaps a dozen men underneath, I bore still more to my left, with Denham following close, till I stopped once more, knowing that horses must be just in front.

I made a short pause now, longing to ask my comrade's advice; but I dared not whisper. So, feeling that probably there would only be about fifty yards of perilous ground to pa.s.s over before we had cleared the Boer lines, I did what I imagined was best-bore off a little to the right as I advanced-my idea being to get back towards the oxen and pa.s.s softly by the side of the wagon which I believed must be close at hand.

"They'll be asleep," I thought, "and I may get past."

It was all a chance, I knew; but we had been lucky so far, and I hoped that fortune would still favour us. In this spirit I still kept on, crawling now very slowly, till suddenly I let myself subside, for my hand had come in contact with the b.u.t.t of a rifle lying on the ground.

Denham too must have taken the alarm, for I felt him drawing steadily at my heel, which I read to mean retreat. But I felt there was no retreat, knowing that we had crept right in among a number of sleeping men. So I let myself slowly subside, lying on my chest; and in the effort to cross my arms and let them rest beneath my chin my left elbow struck sharply against a sleeper's face, making him start so violently that he kicked his neighbour, and in an instant there was a furious burst of Boer Dutch oaths and imprecations.

"Quiet!" said a deep, severe voice in Dutch. "There, you've roused the patrol."

My heart sank, for there was the hurried tramp of footsteps approaching, and, worse than all, the gleaming of a lantern, which lit up the heavy body of a man lying right across the way I sought to go, while right and left, and within a foot of me, were two more burly figures. They were all in motion now, and as the lantern was borne closer it was thrown open, and, in what one of my neighbours would have called an augenblick, I saw in the background on one side the tilt of a wagon, and on the other the dim forms of horses.

My agony, in spite of feeling Denham's hand pressing firmly on my heel, seemed to have culminated; but the worst was to come, and I shivered, for a high-pitched voice cried in Dutch:

"Hwhat's all this? Didn't I tell ye to loy still and slape till it was time to start? Why, ye blundering, thick-headed idiots, you have made enough noise to rouse the Englanders."

Denham pressed my heel now so that it was painful; but I did not stir, only listened to the grumbling apology of the two men.

"Don't go to sleep again," said the abusing voice. "We start in an hour, if you haven't put the enemy on the alert."

Just then the light was softened, for the door of the lantern was closed and the fastening clicked.

Then I felt that all was over, for the man on my left suddenly started up and seized me by the arm.

"Open that lantern again, Captain Moriarty," he cried. "I want to see who this is we've got here."

"Yes," said another voice; "two of them. I'll swear they weren't here when we lay down."

Chapter Forty Two.

In the Trap.

If either Denham or I had felt the slightest disposition to run, it was checked by the brotherly feeling that one could not escape without the other; but even if we had made the attempt it would have been impossible, for the words uttered by the big Boer at my side acted like the application of a spark to a keg of gunpowder. In an instant there was an explosion. Men leaped to their feet, rifle in hand; there was a roar of voices; yells and shouts were mingled with bursts of talking which rose into a hurricane of gabble, out of which, mingled with oaths and curses delivered in the vilest Dutch, I made out, "Spies-shoot-hang them;" and it seemed that after thrusting ourselves into the hornets' nest we were to be stung to death.

The noise was deafening, and as we were held men plucked and tore at us, while the roar of voices seemed to run to right and left all along the line, alarm spreading; with the result that those outside the narrow s.p.a.ce where the facts were known took it to be a sudden attack from the rear, and began firing at random in the darkness. In spite of the despair that came over me, I even then could not help feeling a kind of exultation-satisfaction-call it what you will-at the surprise we had given the blundering Boers, and thinking that if the Colonel had been prepared with our men to charge into them at once, the whole line of the enemy for far enough to right and left would have turned and fled, after an ineffectual fire which must have done far more harm to their friends than to their foes, and then scattered before our fellows like dead leaves before a gale.

However, we were not to be torn to pieces just then by the infuriated Boers, for we were each held firmly by two burly fellows, while Moriarty, yelling at the excited crowd in his highly-pitched voice, opened and held the lantern on high, so as to get a good look at our disfigured faces. The light fell upon his own as well, and I saw him start and shrink, as if for the moment he fancied that we had returned from the dead. But his dismay was only momentary. Then a malevolent grin of exultation came over his countenance, his eyes scintillated in the lantern light, and he yelled orders to those around till he obtained comparative silence.

"Pa.s.s the word all along the line," he shouted. "False alarm. Only spies, and we have got them. Cease firing."

His words had but little effect for a few minutes; but by degrees the tumult was stilled and the firing ceased. The men about us readily obeyed the Irish captain's orders.

"They're old fr'inds of mine," he said, with a peculiar grin-"dear fr'inds who have come after me to join our ranks; and I'm going to make them take the oaths properly."

There was a groan of dissent at this, but Moriarty paid no heed; he only showed his teeth at us in a savage grin like that of some wild beast about to spring.

"Yes," he continued, "they're old fr'inds of mine-dear fr'inds. That one"-he pointed to me-"is a deserter from our forces, and the other miserable brute is an officer who has been fighting against us and helping his companion. Be cool and calm, dear boys, and as soon as it is light you shall have the pleasure of shooting the young scoundrels. For we're all soldiers now, and we must behave like military min, unless you would like to set a Kaffir to hang them both from a tripod of dissel-booms at the two ends of a rein."

"Shoot them! Shoot them!" came in a burst of voices.

"Very well, we'll shoot them; but we must do it properly. We'll have a court-martial upon them, and teach the spies to crawl into our camp like snakes."

"It's a lie!" I shouted. "We are no spies."

"Ah! you understand the beautiful language of my fr'inds," cried Moriarty. "You are not spies, then?"

"No, neither of us," I said in Dutch.

"Indade?" said Moriarty. "And perhaps you are not a deserter from our troops?"

Amidst hootings, groans, and yells, I managed to make myself heard.

"No," I said, "I am not a deserter. I am English, and I refused to fight against my own countrymen."

A savage yell greeted my plain words; but Moriarty held up his hand.

"Let him condemn himself out of his own lips, brethren," he cried.-Then, to me, "You preferred to fight against and shoot down the people among whom you dwelt?" he cried.

"I joined my own people," I replied; "and this gentleman with me is no spy."

"What is he, then?" said Moriarty, holding up his hand in the light of the lantern he kept aloft, so as to secure silence.

"An officer and a gentleman of the Light Horse."

"Indade!" said Moriarty sneeringly. "Then you have both had enough of the British forces, and have desarted to ours?"

"No," I said coolly. "We have both been badly wounded, as you can see, and we wanted to break through the lines and get away."

"What for?" said Moriarty fiercely. "What for?"

"We are too weak to fight," I said.

"Bah!" roared Moriarty, "you are both spies; and do you hear? You shall both be shot by-and-by."

A yell of triumph, which sounded like a chorus of savage beasts in antic.i.p.ation of blood, rose from all around.

"Get reins and tie their arms behind them, my brothers. They're English, and can spake nothing but lies."

As some of the men hurried away to fetch the necessary cords, I turned to one of the big Boers who held me.

"Is it a lie," I said, "that my friend has been badly wounded? Is it a lie that I have been hurt?"