With Rifle and Bayonet Part 7

But Jack's surprises were not ended by any means, for as he went on all-fours to creep into a safer position, there was a sudden tearing sound, and one leg went deep down through the coal, to be followed instantly by the other. Next moment he was standing on the wooden flooring of the truck, with a layer of coal round his middle, while, strangely enough, his legs were quite free to move about.

Jack was as sharp as most lads of his age, and though he could not exactly see through a brick wall, he could certainly, now that suspicion had sharpened his wits, get to the bottom of this new discovery.

With the greatest care he swept the coal aside till he came to a tarpaulin some five inches beneath it, which was evidently stretched across the truck. Through this he had already forced a hole, and he had soon completely disappeared beneath it, and, nothing daunted by the novelty or danger of the situation, had begun to grope about in the dark. From end to end of the truck he crawled, going over every inch of the s.p.a.ce, and when his inspection was finished he had counted two more big guns of some description, besides a vast number of Mauser rifles.

"Ah, this is really serious!" he muttered gravely to himself. "A van-load of grapes, which are really cartridges, for President Kruger, and a truck-load of coal, hiding no end of guns, not to mention those hidden by the cases of grapes. And I suppose the other trucks in front are just the same. I wonder now where they are going to! I'd very much like to find out; but just now, if I want to see the Hunters again, I had better get back to my own carriage."

Jack popped up through the hole again, and was on the point of moving along the top of the coal when, with a shriek and a deafening roar the train dived into the long tunnel which connects Natal and the Transvaal.

To attempt to move now would have been to run the chance of having his brains knocked out against the arch above, for the coal-van was one with sides of sheet-iron, built very much higher than those usually seen on our English railways. He therefore lay down flat upon the thin layer of coal, taking good care to spread his weight over as much surface as possible. Five minutes later the train emerged from the tunnel and rushed out into the open. Once more Jack crawled to the side of the truck, and having worked his way to the foremost end of it, clambered over on to the buffer, and from there on to the next truck.

"Now I shall be able to get along far more quickly," he thought. "But first of all I will try the weight of one of these cases labelled 'Sugar'. Ah, I thought as much! this one is so heavy that I can scarcely lift it."

Stumbling along on top of the cases, he tried first one and then another, till he was convinced that here again he had hit upon a large consignment of war material of some sort. For if it was not ammunition, or something of that nature, what could it be? And why should the cases be labelled 'Sugar'? Obviously it was extremely likely that all the trucks were loaded with war material, for otherwise why the secrecy and incorrect labelling?

Satisfied that he had discovered a secret of the Boers, Jack scrambled from truck to truck on his way back to his carriage.

It was by no means easy work, for the train was now rushing along at a rapid pace, swaying from side to side and necessitating great caution, especially when he was stretching across the s.p.a.ce which separated the trucks.

However, by dint of due caution he at last reached the foremost truck, and was on the point of lowering himself on to the buffers when his hand struck against a cord which seemed to run from end to end over the middle of the wooden cases. He ran his fingers along it, and was wondering what it could be, when the flash of a light from the open veldt at the side of the line caught his eye. A second later it had been left behind, but the rope in his hand jerked and then stretched tight, as though the flash had been a signal and someone were pulling.

At that moment the train was rushing downhill, and the brakes were applied to steady it. The grinding roar, and the sparks as they gripped the wheels, attracted Jack's attention, while the tension on the cord in his hand became instantly greater. Then there was a succession of loud bangs and heavy jolts as the buffers of the carriages and trucks came together. Before Jack could so much as guess at the meaning of it all, the cord became suddenly slack, the brakes were clapped on to the wheels of the trucks, almost throwing him over the front with the jerk they caused, and the Johannesburg express was racing away from him into the darkness. For five minutes the trucks followed in the wake of the express, their pace getting every moment less. Then there was a clank and a jar, and they swerved from the main track through a siding behind a station, which was totally unlighted, and on beneath some overhanging trees, and out on to the veldt once more. A couple of hundred yards farther on a big hill loomed up directly in front of them, a large shed appeared in sight, and within five minutes the trucks had run beneath it and on a little way into the hill. Then the brakes bit the steel rims harder, and the whole came to a stop.

Jack had not wasted his time meanwhile. Feeling sure that he had accidentally got into a very dangerous corner, he crouched low upon the cases, and the instant the trucks pulled up, jumped over the side and darted underneath.

"Wie gaat daar?" (who goes there?) he heard someone exclaim, and a big Boer, with an iron-grey beard, appeared, carrying a lantern.

"We are Uitlanders and have brought you a present," a voice shouted, and then there was a loud chorus of laughter.

Jack thrust his head out from beneath the truck and looked round. As far as he could ascertain from a hasty glance the trucks had come to a standstill in a large vaulted stone chamber, along the sides of which numerous guns of all sizes were packed, while behind them was a solid wall of boxes, similar to those in the truck above his head labelled "Sugar."

As he looked out, the four men, including Piet Maartens, who had ridden in the van from Durban, stepped down to the ground, and it was one of these, a short stumpy little German, whom he knew well by sight, having seen him frequently in the streets of Johannesburg, who had made the brilliant joke at which his comrades had laughed. Evidently he was more proficient in the English tongue than in the difficult and uncouth language of which the Boer boasts, and as most of the latter who live in the Transvaal towns can speak English more or less perfectly, the conversation which followed was carried on so as to be perfectly intelligible to Jack.

"Well, Hans," the big man who had first spoken said, addressing the German, "so you have brought Oom Paul's groceries through quite safely, and without raising the suspicions of those English fools. Ha, ha!

'Grapes, to be kept cool.' Tis a fine idea. But it would never do if others than our own men handled them. They are too heavy, my friends, too heavy by far, and so also is the sugar of which his honour is buying such a large amount. It just shows what fools there are in the world, and what money, liberally spent, can do."

"True, Oom Schalk," the German answered, with a chuckle, "there are some fools indeed, as you say, and also there are wise men. Oom Paul is the wise man of this land, and he is slim--ah! so slim that no one has yet got the better of him. It was by his order that all this stuff here came through openly, and labelled as it is. It is just the fact that we make no attempt to hide it that ensures its reaching us in safety. Ah, those English! Well, a time is coming, Oom, when we shall teach them something. Bah! How I hate them! The very sight of one makes me ill."

"Well, well," Oom Schalk said with a smile, "you shall have a chance to pay them out, my friend. But now, let us see that all the trucks are right, and then we can leave them till the morning."

Holding the lantern well above his head, and followed by his four comrades, the big Boer looked into the covered van, and then walked along by the side of the trucks, climbing up and inspecting the contents of each.

Now was Jack's chance to get away, and he took it at once. Scrambling along on the concrete with which the vault was paved, he slowly pa.s.sed beneath the trucks till he reached the end of the van. Peeping out to make sure that there was no one about, he stole along in the darkness, and soon was out of the vault and in a large shed built against the opening.

There seemed to be no one near, and the only sound was the grating of the feet of those behind him and the faint hum of their voices.

Standing up, he listened for a few moments, and, hearing nothing suspicious, ran across the shed towards the door. It was standing wide open, and at the sight he almost gave a cry of joy. In a moment he was close to it, and was on the point of rushing through when a strong arm clutched him by the collar, while the cold muzzle of a weapon was thrust into his ear.

It was a terrible shock, and set Jack's heart throbbing fiercely. But he had the presence of mind to keep perfectly still, for that cold touch at his ear told him better than so many words that the slightest movement would mean his certain death.

A moment later someone else had grasped him on the other side, and he was marched back into the vault, and dragged before Oom Schalk and his companions.

"What is the matter?" the Boer demanded, placing his lantern close to Jack's face, and scrutinising his features closely. "Why, he is not one of ours! He is a spy!"

"I cannot say who he is or how he came here, Oom," the man who had captured Jack replied; "but as I stood by the door with Van Zyl and watched you as you walked along the trucks, I suddenly caught sight of someone creeping across the vault. His head pa.s.sed between me and your lantern, and I saw at once that he was not one of you. So we waited here silently in the dark, and caught him as he was about to run through the door."

"Who are you, boy?" Oom Schalk demanded fiercely, staring at Jack's face.

"He's English. He's one of the hated Uitlanders!" shouted Piet Maartens, recognising Jack at this moment. "His name is Somerton, and I tell you, Oom, young though he is, he is as much our enemy as any. He is a spy, and has been sent by Hunter, or probably by the British consul, to watch our movements, so that news may be sent to the English Government."

"A spy, a spy!" shrieked Hans, his fat face becoming livid with fear and rage. "He has seen all, and will betray us, this hated Englishman!

Shoot him, Oom, shoot him! No one will know."

"I am not a spy, and I came here because I could not help myself," Jack answered defiantly. "I was late for the train at Newcastle, and only just managed to climb on one of these trucks. Before I could get back to the carnages they were gone, and I was being carried down here.

Then, when I found none of my own countrymen with you I naturally tried to get away without being seen."

"And you were not sent by anyone to spy on us?" asked Oom Schalk a little less sternly. "Answer me truly, for if you tell me a lie, as there is a heaven above I will shoot you, so that no one shall ever know what has become of you."

"I am telling you the truth," Jack answered stubbornly. "I can say no more. If you shoot me, you will be committing a foul murder, and will some day regret it bitterly."

"Don't believe him, Oom! Don't believe the dog!" cried Piet Maartens savagely, scowling angrily at Jack. "He lies. I can see it on his face. He is a spy, and we must shoot him."

"Yes, shoot him, shoot him!" chimed in the German. "What does it matter one proud Englishman more or less?"

"Softly, softly, Hans Schloss and Piet Maartens," exclaimed Oom Schalk.

"We need not hurry about this matter. The lad is young--no older than my own son--and I will not kill him yet. Wait till to-morrow, and we will learn more about him. All Englishmen are hateful, but I will not take the life of a single one of them unless there be good cause.

Remember, my friends, there is but one G.o.d above us, and He will judge us for our acts. If this lad is guilty of spying he shall die, but in proper form, for I will not have him murdered. But he has a truthful face, and I am inclined to believe his story, for who would be such a fool, even amongst these Uitlanders, as to spy upon us here? No, no.

It is unlikely, and we will wait till to-morrow to learn more about him, and sift the matter properly."

"Bah! You have too soft a heart, Oom Schalk," Hans Schloss shouted. "I say, let us end his spying at once, for if you wait he will manage to escape from us."

"Wait, wait!" exclaimed Oom Schalk, with some show of temper. "You would not be so ready for me to carry out the sentence if you were in his place. To-morrow we will see about the matter, and meanwhile I place the prisoner in your hands. You will be responsible for him, and see that no harm comes to him, or I will show you that Oom Schalk has a stony heart at times."

The big Boer nodded to Jack, and stalked out of the vault.

For a few moments Jack faced unflinchingly the six men who remained, wondering whether, now that their commandant had gone, they would shoot him or injure him in any way. But with a few muttered oaths and sneering remarks as to what would happen to him on the morrow, they turned away, Piet Maartens giving orders that he should be bound with a rope.

Five minutes later Jack was tied hand and foot, and placed upon the concrete flooring with his back resting against a wheel of one of the trucks. From here he watched his captors, who had retired into the shed. Placing their lanterns on the ground, they wrapped themselves in blankets, and, leaving one of their number seated on a stool, threw themselves down to sleep.

"I'm in a nasty hole," thought Jack, "a very awkward fix indeed. If it had not been for Oom Schalk those brutes would certainly have shot me; and I'm not at all sure that they won't do so after all, for there is no one to prove that I am telling the truth. Even if they don't harm me, they are bound to get rid of me, for they can never allow me to remain in the Transvaal after this. Well, I must get away somehow."

For half an hour he sat quietly thinking, with his eyes fixed upon the lanterns and upon the figure sitting close to them. The Boer had lit his pipe, but it constantly went out, and he as constantly lifted a lantern to get a light again. Then he put it on the ground, folded his arms, and stared about him. Soon his head drooped, and nodded gently, then his chin went down on his chest with a jerk, and he sat upright again, shrugged his burly shoulders, yawned, and looked about him. Jack watched him with deep interest, and soon saw that he had fallen asleep.

Now was his time, and noiselessly bringing his heels close beneath him, he gave his body a jerk forward by pressing against the truck with the back of his head, and in another moment was standing on his feet.

He was still helpless, for he was firmly bound, with his hands behind his back. But he had not been racking his brains all this time for nothing. He remembered that at Durban he had noticed that the corners of the iron trucks were not turned over, but bolted to angle-irons inside, leaving a more or less rough surface at the edge. It was a small matter, but he had noticed it just as one does take note of trivial points, and he now determined to put it to a good purpose. Inch by inch he shuffled along till he reached the corner of the truck against which he had been placed, then he leant against it, and commenced to rub the cords which bound his wrists up and down the roughened edge.

It was difficult work, but he clenched his teeth and put all his strength into it. After more than half an hour's nibbing the cord was cut through and his hands were free. To release his legs was now a simple matter, and in a few minutes he was standing close to the truck, with his boots off, and slung across his shoulders by the laces. Then he undid his secret pocket, pressed the spring, and gripped the b.u.t.t of his Mauser pistol.

At this moment there was a sound from the shed, and on looking in that direction Jack noticed that the sleepy sentry was half-awake once more, and was making a desperate effort to stand upon his feet. He yawned several times, shook himself, rubbed his eyes, and then suddenly turned and looked towards the trucks.