The Fire Trumpet Part 67

"And where is Ethel now, and how is she getting on?" asked Claverton, presently.

"She's down at Cape Town still."

"Does she ever come up to the frontier?"

"Oh, yes. Sometimes. She would have been coming just about now, only this new war broke out."

"Who's that? Ethel?" asked Hicks, returning. He had left the room for a moment to give some directions to one of his natives outside. "Oh, yes. She was engaged to some fellow down there and then choked him off all at once, no one quite knew why. Laura vows that--" Here the speaker became aware of a battery of warning glances being levelled at him from his wife's dark eyes, and suddenly collapsed in a violent fit of coughing, on recovery from which he threw open the door, and looking frantically up at the heavens declared, with a vehemence wholly unsuited to the occasion, that the rain would inevitably clear away before twelve o'clock. Claverton, on whom not one fraction of this by-play was lost, although he pretended not to see it, could hardly restrain his mirth.

Good old Hicks, he thought, was always a whale at blundering, and he had done for himself again. Even in trying to extricate it, he had put his unlucky foot in yet deeper; for, to any one who did not know him, this violent prognostication as to the weather, taken in conjunction with what had gone before, would have had slightly an inhospitable smack; but Claverton enjoyed the situation only too well. By-and-by, when pursuing his journey, he would shout with laughter over the recollection; now, however, not a muscle of his countenance moved as he said, in the most matter-of-fact way:

"You might remember me to Ethel, when you write. We used to have rather fun together in the old times."

Laura said something in a.s.sent, though she mentally resolved to do nothing of the kind. No good would come of waking up old recollections, she reasoned, by mentioning this man who, even if through no fault of his own, had, at any rate, she told herself, cast a cloud over her bright, wayward, beautiful sister's life, and the sooner he was forgotten the better. For that sister's sake she by no means shared her husband's joy over his reappearance, and she sincerely hoped that those two might not meet again, and wished that he would be quick and marry Lilian Strange, or leave this part of the country, or both. Meanwhile here he was, still on the frontier, and Ethel might be coming up to visit her at any time.

Just then a chubby toddling--an exact infantile reproduction of his father--rushed into the room; and Laura, with a touch of pride that was very becoming, exhibited him to her guest, while the urchin opened his big blue eyes wide, and stood staring, with his finger in his mouth, at Claverton's long boots and shining spurs.

"Go and say how d'you do to Mr Claverton, Jimmy," said his mother, in the tone of half command, half entreaty, usual under the circ.u.mstances.

"He's a soldier, you know, going to fight the Kafirs, like Uncle Jim."

"Uncle Jim" being Jim Brathwaite, who was the urchin's G.o.dfather.

"I'll be soja, when I big," lisped the prodigy, toddling up to Claverton, and tentatively stroking with one finger the shin of his high boot. "I got gun--shoot de Kaffa--bang!"

"Halloa," cried Hicks, re-entering. "Don't let that kid bother you, Arthur. Kids are a confounded nuisance unless they happen to belong to a fellow, and very often even then."

But Jimmy was not to be detached from his new acquaintance, to whom he had taken an immense fancy, and just then, fortunately for his peace of mind, a move was made in favour of breakfast.

They talked of the war and its progress. Hicks declared his intention of holding on a bit for the present, and joining Jim Brathwaite--who, with his troop, had already left for the front--later, if things got worse. Laura had been in a terrible fright the last time when he had gone, he said; but now, since she saw that none of them had been hurt, she didn't care--in fact, concluded Hicks, he rather believed she wanted to get rid of him, so he was determined to stay, just to spite her.

Listening to the playful recrimination that followed, Claverton found himself thinking what a good thing it was to see two people happy like this, for there could be no doubt but that happy they were--thoroughly so--in their quiet and hitherto peaceful (for the tide of war had not yet rolled in so far as this) frontier home; though such may appear incredible to those who find their enjoyment of life in the whirl and feverishness of fashionable civilisation. And thinking it, he rejoiced greatly on his old chum's account.

And the said "old chum" was considerably crestfallen at the announcement that he must take the road again. "Why, hang it all," he grumbled; "you've hardly had time to look at us."

"My dear fellow--duty--inexorable duty calls. But I shall a.s.suredly knock you up again, soon."

"Why, here's baby!" exclaimed Laura, as an approaching squall resounded through the pa.s.sage. "You will just be able to have a peep at her before you go," and regardless of her lord's impatient protest that "Claverton didn't want to be bothered with a lot of kids," she took a limp bundle of clothes from the arms of its bearer and uncovered a wee red and--shall it be confessed?--rather wet physiognomy for her guest's inspection.

"H'm, I'm no judge of infants, Laura," said Claverton, good-humouredly, "but I should say this one ought to fetch first prize at the next show.

But now I must be off--good-bye."

"Must you go? I'm so sorry," said Laura. "I should like to get Lilian up here to stay for a bit, only 'some one' would be sure to forbid it as unsafe," she added, archly.

"Well, good-bye, old fellow," said Hicks. "My horses are out in the _veldt_, and will take hours to get in, or I'd go part of the way with you. Mind you look us up again as soon as ever you can." He was going to add something about hoping "to see you both here before long"; but with his recent slip fresh in his mind, he refrained, fearing lest in some unaccountable manner he should put his foot in it again.

"Good-bye--success to you. Mind you shoot lots of n.i.g.g.e.rs and come back all jolly," and with a hearty hand-shake the two men parted.

Claverton rode on, reaching Fort Beaufort, where he tarried a day to recruit his men, or rather to collect them, for they had already been recruited by his lieutenant, a young Englishman named Lumley; and it was high time he appeared on the scene, for the rascals had taken the opportunity of getting on the spree, indulging in much inebriate jollification preparatory to starting for the seat of war. They would be all right, though, once away from the canteens and under proper discipline--and under proper discipline he intended they should be. So promptly mustering them he marched them off without any farther delay, not even waiting a day in Alice, the divisional town of Victoria East, where a fresh batch was picked up. At the latter place, however, a despatch awaited him, ordering him, instead of going to King Williamstown, to proceed straight through to join the main column on the borders of Sandili's location.

All along the road he met with fresh rumours and alarms. The rebellion was spreading; the whole of British Kaffraria and the Transkei was over-ran; nearly all the settlers' houses in the more exposed districts were burnt down; the Police express-riders carried their lives in their hands, as they darted across the hostile country, several of them having been cut off already. Added to which these districts were in a dire state of alarm, by reason of impending troubles nearer home, for the Gaika clans in the Waterkloof and Blinkwater fastnesses, under the chiefs Tini Macomo and Oba, were in a state of restlessness, and meanwhile signal fires burnt nightly on the higher peaks of the Amatola.

It was, indeed, a motley crew, was this "levy" of which the two Englishmen were in command, numbering between sixty and seventy men.

Yellow-skinned Hottentots; dark Korannas; tall, light-coloured b.a.s.t.a.r.ds; every shade and kindred of the race which though inferior to them in many respects, yet looked upon themselves as the natural foes of the Kafirs, and with far more sympathies of rule, of civilisation, or rather semi-civilisation, and even of blood, with the white man, for few indeed but had some drops of white blood in them. Even two or three specimens of the ape-like Bushmen found part in the motley gathering--wiry, active little rascals, with skulls hard as iron and the agility of cats--and one and all by virtue of their white strain, and the weapons wherewith they had been supplied; and confidence in their leaders, felt themselves immeasurably superior in prowess to the naked tribesmen against whom they were burning to be led. Not a few of the older men--wrinkled, shrivelled-looking, sinewy creatures, but game to the backbone--had been rebels in the war of '50, when the old Cape Mounted Rifles, then composed of such fellows as these, had gone over in a body to the enemy, and, bearing in mind the salutary lesson they had been taught, both by their ill-chosen friends and their deserted employers, were now only too ready to retrieve the past, and to avenge themselves upon the treacherous savages who had then misled them. They were mostly plucky; fair shots and reliable at a pinch; but, as yet, in a state of indifferent discipline; and it required all their leader's prompt.i.tude and firmness to lick them into anything like decent shape. His first address to them was short and to the point.

"Now, men," he said, in the ordinary Boer Dutch, which was their mother tongue. "We are going out to fight--to fight in real earnest, and not to play. I have seen fellows I would far less sooner command than I would you, for I know you can hold your own against any number of these rascally Gaikas. Many of you are good shots, I know, and we'll soon have plenty of opportunity of peppering Jack Kafir handsomely, I promise you. Remember, we are going to fight--and to fight we must always be in a state of readiness and of order, because we are in the enemy's country and never know when we may have him down upon us. Now, mark my words.

Any man who gets drunk, or is found asleep at his post, shall have six dozen well laid on with a couple of new _reims_, as sure as my name's Claverton, and the second time he'll be shot. Mind, I'll stand no hanky-panky. When we get home again you can get on the spree as much as you like; in camp, steadiness is the order of the day. Your rations you'll get just as I get mine, neither better nor worse. I shall ask no man to go where I won't lead him, and now we'll just go and thrash Jack Kafir into a c.o.c.ked hat--yourselves and Mr Lumley and I. So we understand each other. I am commanding men, not fools or children-- isn't it so?"

"Ja, kaptyn--ja!" they cried, cheering him vociferously. "We shall show you we are all men--good men and true."

"That's right. Now I am going to let you elect your own sergeants and corporals, and, having elected them, by Jove, you'll have to obey them.

I should recommend, for choice, Gert Spielman, Cobus Windvogel, Dirk Hesler," and he ran through a list of about a dozen of the most trustworthy veterans, knowing full well that those who were elected would be devoted to him, and those who were not, scarcely less so for his having recommended them. And thus having got his corps into working order, and, in fact, it became more manageable every day, Claverton and his lieutenant journeyed with light hearts towards the seat of war.

"These fellows will turn out a very creditable lot, or I'm much mistaken," remarked Lumley, as they were advancing through one of the defiles of the Amatola. "They are cool and reliable at a pinch, and not susceptible to panic like the Fingoes. I'd rather have fifty of them than five hundred Fingoes."

"I quite believe it," a.s.sented Claverton. "Some of them are tough customers, and once beyond the reach of grog they're all right."

"Yes. Look at that old Gert Spielman, for instance," pointing to a shrivelled, little old Hottentot, with a skin like parchment. "He's a dead shot. The infernal old scoundrel was a rebel last war, and only escaped hanging by the skin of his teeth. I suspect he's drawn a bead with effect many a time on poor Tommy Atkins in those days. Well, now-- if occasion offers--you'll see he'll turn out to be one of our best men."

"No doubt. But I say; this is a queer place, and the sooner we get through it the better."

They were threading a long, narrow defile. Overhead the forest-covered slopes rose to the sky, and down to the path stretched the jungly bush-- dense, tangled, and apparently impenetrable. Great yellow-wood trees here and there reared their grey, ma.s.sive limbs, from which the lichens dangled, above the lower scrub, and monkeys chattered, and birds flitted screaming from the road as the troop moved forward. Some fifteen or twenty of the men had horses of their own, and these, Claverton, like a prudent commander, had thrown forward as scouts, if not to clear the way at any rate to give warning of any a.s.semblage of the foe threatening to oppose their progress--which they could easily do, being as quick of eye and as agile of limb as the Kafirs themselves. But no sign of obstruction was encountered, and soon, emerging from the gorge, they found themselves in more open country, bushy still, but not densely so-- indeed, such that in the event of attack the advantage would not be wholly on the enemy's side.

VOLUME TWO, CHAPTER TWELVE.

"THE LAND IS DEAD."

For two days "Claverton's Levy" has continued its march farther and further into the disturbed country, meeting, as yet, with no opposition.

Now and again, far away on a hill-top, like a black speck, would be descried the form of a Kafir scout watching their movements, and on two or three of these occasions shots had been fired, though futilely, for at present the wily foe was showing a discretion eminently the better part of valour, and kept his distance. Deserted kraals and mealie-lands, here and there even the ruins of a once prosperous homestead, tell in significant, if voiceless testimony, that the "land is dead" indeed; and no sign of life is visible along the path, save for the occasional presence of the wild creatures of the waste, who, for their part, lose no time in getting out of the way of this quaint-looking crew. Once, indeed, a number of Kafir women came into the camp with a plausible tale of how they were fleeing from the rebels, and were on their way to join their husbands and fathers in the colony, who were loyal to the Government, and wouldn't the white captain give them rations to carry them on their road? But Claverton, who saw through the trick, had ordered them out of camp at once, threatening to make prisoners of the lot if they were even within sight half an hour later. He knew they were spies--these confiding creatures--sent in by the enemy to see how great a fool the white chief was, and to report accordingly; but in the present instance they found him in no sense a fool at all.

Very careful and precise has Claverton been in the matter of guard; visiting the sentries himself, and that often. Indeed, there has been a tendency among the men to growl a little--always in secret, for they have already begun to look upon their leader with no inconsiderable awe--at the extra precautions he takes in posting rather more than the absolutely necessary number of guards. Very careful and precise is he in matters of discipline, although, within limits, the men are allowed and encouraged to make the time pa.s.s as cheerfully as possible; and many are the yells of laughter round the evening camp-fire over the antics of some yellow-skinned monkey; or another discourses the sweet music of a Dutch Hottentot song to the accompaniment of a concertina and a battered old fiddle, for they are fond of music in their way, are these light-hearted, scatter-brained half-breeds--their own music, that is--a weird, shrill, bag-pipish chorus, unparalleled in its discordant monotony. But at a given time all lights out, and woe to the delinquent who should think it safe to begin "trying it on" in this or any other respect. So the corps is in capital order for its rough work, and, thanks to the carefulness of its leaders, runs no more jeopardy than that provided by the ordinary chances of war--which, indeed, is fully sufficient.

And now the troop is halted in a hollow, by the side of a small stream-- at this season nearly dry--dry, that is, in places where it should run, though there are several deep pools of standing water very inviting on a morning like this, for, though not yet high, the sun is making his rays disagreeably felt. Around, for a distance of about half a mile, the slopes are dotted with _spekboem_ and aloes; the straight, p.r.i.c.kly stems of the latter looking like an array of dark Kafirs stationed about in the shimmer of the rising heat. It is the third morning of their march, and to-day they expect to reach the main body; meanwhile, having been on the move since dawn, they are halted for breakfast.

As usual, the sentries have been carefully posted, for their leader has noticed among his men a certain tendency to carelessness, in proportion as their advance is made without sign of opposition, and, knowing their characteristics and their failings well, his watchfulness never relaxes.

And now, as the sun shines pleasantly down, on this cloudless morning, the men sit and lounge about, taking their well-earned rest ere the word is given to set forward again. Some are cooking their breakfasts and those of their fellows; others lie about smoking their pipes and indulging in drowsy gossip; some lying on their backs, with their ragged hats between their faces and the son, are fast asleep; while others are still splashing merrily in one or two of the water-holes, diving into the water or sitting on the brink basking in the sun. Claverton himself has just returned from his bath, and stands, in scanty attire, looking placidly round upon those under his command, in their various att.i.tudes of ease and restfulness.

"Not much use tubbing if one has to walk a hundred yards after it," he is saying. "One wants to go in again directly one gets here."

"Yes," answers his lieutenant, dreamily. "By the way, I was thinking what we should do if Jack Kafir were to make a sudden rush on us while we were splashing away down there. But I don't believe we shall get a glimpse of the beggar until--"

Bang!

A shot is heard just over the brow of the rise about seven hundred yards off. It rings out on the still morning air with a sharp clearness that is startling, and immediately it is followed by a second. The effect is like magic: loungers sit bolt upright, sleepers wake, those in the water scurry out, and all eyes in camp are turned in the direction of this unlooked-for alarm.

"Kaptyn, Kaptyn--Kyk dar so!" [Captain, Captain--Look there!] cries one of the sergeants, a wiry little Hottentot of some sixty summers. But even before his warning is uttered Claverton's quick eye has caught the cause of alarm, and more, has mastered the fact that nothing but the utmost coolness and determination will save every soul in that camp from destruction. For the whole ridge is alive with Kafir warriors, swarming over the brow of the hill like a crowd of red ants; on they come, straight for the camp, evidently with the intention of carrying it by a rush. A man is fleeing before them as hard as ever he can run-- apparently the sentry who has fired the shot--but he has a small start and they are gaining upon him. Suddenly he falls, then disappears, pierced by a score of a.s.segais, and the crowd pours over him.

"Steady, men--steady!" cries Claverton, his clear voice ringing like a trumpet. "Every man to his place. No one to fire before the word is given."

And now the state of discipline into which the corps had been brought, bore its fruit, as, quickly and without flurry, each man knew exactly where to find his rifle and ammunition, and found it--for the arms had been placed separately in a circle, not piled--and now, inspired by their leader's coolness, every man stood armed and ready, only waiting the word of command. Once or twice Claverton detected signs of flurry and scrambling; but a word or two thrown in, and an invincible coolness--which could not have been greater had they been on parade, instead of waiting the furious onslaught of a savage horde, rushing down at a pace which three minutes at the outside would bring right upon them--instantly had the effect of restoring order.