Charge! Part 68

I was unable to speak then, but held out my hand quickly to Denham, who seized it in both of his, and his lips parted as if to say good-bye, yet no words were uttered. The next moment he let my hand drop and turned his eyes away, for the big Boer who had become so familiar now climbed into the wagon, glanced at us, and then reached down outside for two large pannikins of hot coffee, which he carefully lifted inside.

"Here," he said gruffly; "help to keep up your spirits."

He set the tins beside us, then went to the back of the wagon and reached down again for a couple of large, newly-baked cakes, which he handed to us.

"The Irish captain didn't give any orders," he said; "but we don't starve our prisoners to death."

With that he scowled at us in turn, and left the wagon.

"Toll me what he said, Val," whispered Denham in a tone of voice which sounded very strange.

With difficulty I repeated in English what the man had said; I felt as if choking.

"I wish they hadn't done this, Val," said Denham after a minute's interval. "It seems like a mockery."

I nodded, then remarked, "That man seems to have some feeling in him."

"Yes; but we can't eat and drink now."

"No," I replied. "I feel as if food would choke me."

Denham nodded, and sat gazing out at the bright sunshine.

"Think it would give us a little Dutch courage if we had some breakfast?"

"I don't want any," I said desperately. "I want them to put us out of our misery before that wretch Moriarty comes back."

"But we want to face them like men," said Denham suddenly. "We're so weak and faint now that we shall be ready to drop. Let's eat and drink, and we will show the Boers that English soldiers are ready to lace anything."

"I can't," I replied desperately.

"You must," cried Denham. "Como on." He took up his pannikin, raised it to his lips, and took a long deep draught before setting the vessel down and taking up the cake.

"Come, Val," he said firmly, "if you leave yours the Boers will think you are too much frightened to eat."

"So I am," I said gravely, "It is very awful to face death like this."

"Yes; but it would be more awful if we stood before the enemy trembling and ready to drop."

I nodded now. Then catching up the tin in desperation, I raised it to my lips and held it there till it was half-empty. Setting the pannikin down, I took up the cake, broke a piece off, and began to eat. The animal faculties act independently of the mental, I suppose; so, as I sat there thinking of our home and our approaching fate, I went on eating slowly, without once glancing at my companion, till the big cake was finished; then I raised and drained the pannikin.

It was while I was swallowing the last mouthful or two that Denham spoke in a low tone. Looking in his direction, I noticed that he had also finished the rough breakfast.

"They're watching us, Val," he said softly.

I glanced round to back and front, and saw that the big Boer and four others were looking in, the sight making the blood flush to my face.

Directly after the big fellow climbed in, to stand by us with a grim smile.

"Have some more?" he asked.

"No, thank you," I replied.

"Hungry-weren't you?" was his next question.

I bowed my head.

"Well, it'll put some courage into you."

He picked up the two pannikins, and stepped out again.

"I'm glad we took it," said Denham. "It's better than looking ready to show the white feather."

"I don't think we should have faltered even without the food," I replied.

We both relapsed into silence now, for talking seemed to be impossible. We had to think of the past and of the future. One minute I felt in despair, and the next I was filled with a strange kind of hope that was inexplicable.

It was during one of these oft-recurring intervals, as the time wore on, that Denham turned to me suddenly and said, just as if in answer to something I had said, for his thoughts were very much the same as mine:

"There, I can't make anything else of it, Val: we were doing our duty, and trying to save the lives of our friends."

"Yes," I said quietly; then, both shrinking from speaking again, we sat listening to the sounds outside. From time to time one or other of the men on guard looked in to see that we were safe, though for the matter of that we had hardly thought of stirring, as escape seemed to be quite impossible.

It was about midday, after a very long silence, when Denham suddenly remarked, "It went against the grain at first, Val; but I won't attempt to fire at that brute. He'll get his deserts one of these days. You're right; we don't want to go out like that. I want us to be able to stand up before the enemy quite calm and steady. We must show them what Englishmen can do."

I could not speak, but I gave him a long and steadfast look.

The sound of footsteps was again heard, and I was not surprised this time when our friendly Boer brought us two good rations of freshly-roasted mutton and two cakes. These he put down before us without a word, together with a tin of water, and then left us.

Denham looked at me, and I looked at him, as-each feeling something akin to shame-we ate the food almost ravenously. Then the afternoon was pa.s.sed in listening to the busy movements of the Boers; but we never once tried to look out of our strange prison.

At sunset, as I looked at the glorious orange colour of the sky, a curious feeling of sadness came over me, for I realised it was the last time I should behold the sun go down. There was such a look of calm beauty everywhere that I could hardly realise the fact that we were surrounded by troop upon troop of armed men ready to deal out fire and destruction at a word; but once more my musing was interrupted by the big Boer. He brought us coffee again, and this time cake and b.u.t.ter.

"There," he remarked as he placed all before us, "make much of it, boys, for I shan't see you again."

A chill ran through me; but I don't think my countenance changed.

"I'm going away with our men to the other side yonder, and the Irish captain's coming back. Good-bye, lads," he said after a pause. "I'm sorry for you both, for I've got two boys just such fellows as you. I'm sorry I caught you, for you're brave fellows even if you are spies."

"We are not spies," I replied quietly. I was determined to speak now; I wanted that Boer to look on us as honest and manly.

He shook his head. I repeated the words pa.s.sionately.

"Look here," I said; "we have been wounded, and were on the sick-list. We could do no good, so we said we'd try and got through your lines and fetch help."

"Ah!" cried the Boer slowly and thoughtfully. "Yes, I see. But you were caught, and I can do nothing, boys. Moriarty will have you shot in the morning when he comes back, and begin to rage because it is not done. Well, life's very short, and we must all die. I'm going to fight to-night, and perhaps I shall start on the long journey too, for your men fight well. G.o.d knows best, lads; and there is no fighting yonder-all is peace."

He bowed his head down and went out of the wagon without a word. When Denham asked me a few minutes later what the Boer had said, my voice in reply sounded hoa.r.s.e and strange, quite unlike my usual tones.