With Steyn and De Wet | Page 3

the rest of us followed leisurely. We were about half-way back when the messenger returned with an additional twenty-five men and an order that we were instantly to return to our post; if in possession of the enemy, to retake and hold it until relieved.
A very tall order, and more than one man uttered the belief that discretion was the better part of valour, and that there was no humour in attacking numberless Britons with fifty men. We braced up our nerves, however, retraced our steps, and presently reached the vicinity of the kraal. Two men crept up close and came back to say the place was full of English. Leaving the horses in charge of a few men, we crept forward and surrounded the kraal. Each sought a suitable shelter and laid himself down to await the dawn. It was now about midnight. The next four hours passed very slowly, lying there in the cold and with the expectation of a desperate struggle in the morning. We thought how brave we were, and how sorry our general would be when he heard how we had all been shot down to a man, and how in after years this night attack of ours would rank with the charge of the Light Brigade. We hoped Chamberlain would die soon after us, so that we could meet his soul in the great Beyond and drag it through a sieve.
What was our surprise to find when it grew light that there had never been an Englishman near! The whole thing from beginning to end was only another false alarm, and all our valour had been wasted.
This kind of alarm was rather frequent at the time. A burgher woke up one night to find himself being roughly shaken and someone shouting in his ear--
"What are you doing? Get up, quick! Don't you hear the alarm?"
"Yes, another false one, I daresay," turning over for another nap. Happening to open his eyes, he became aware for the first time that he was speaking to no one less than General Joubert himself!
The poor fellow did not argue the point any further, but forthwith fled into the night, glad to get off at that price.
One morning two of us were returning from our usual swim when suddenly we saw the whole camp a beehive of commotion, burghers running to and fro, saddling their horses, shouting at each other, and generally behaving with a great lack of decorum--like madmen, in fact, or members of the Stock Exchange. Hastening on, we heard that the enemy were coming out to attack us. We hastily seized our nags, and in five minutes were on top of the nearest hill between ourselves and the enemy, who could be seen approaching three thousand yards away. We formed ourselves into groups, and each group packed itself a low wall of the loose stones lying about.
One German, armed with a Martini-Henry, found himself shunned by all his comrades on account of his cartridges not containing smokeless powder, and was obliged to entrench himself on his own at some distance from the rest. The poor fellow was the butt of all the primitive humourists from the backwoods, and was assured with much solemnity that his rifle would draw all the British fire in his direction, and that he was as good as dead already. Thorny is the path of glory!
The British guns in Ladysmith opened fire as their cavalry advanced, the shells falling a few hundred yards to our right, on a hill whence our cannon had lately been removed.
When within two thousand yards the enemy suddenly wheeled to the left and were quickly out of sight between the hills. They found the Pretoria men there, and came back helter-skelter to the accompaniment of rapid rifle firing. First one saddle and then another was emptied as they raced across from right to left, making for a low scrub-covered kopje.
In this kopje a party of our men were concealed. With keen interest we watched the scene, waiting to see the enemy caught in the trap. Then a volley burst from the brush. Like a flash the horsemen wheeled and raced back into Ladysmith. The volley had been fired too soon.
A few mornings later we heard that during the night something very serious had taken place on Lombard's Kop. Being a sort of free lance, I immediately saddled my pony and rode in that direction. Presently I met two Boers on horseback.
"Morning, cousins." (Cousin is a title of courtesy used in addressing one's equal in age. Elder men are called "uncle.")
"Morning, cousin. Of what people may cousin be?"
"Of the telegraph service. And cousins?"
"Of the artillery."
"Something happened up there last night?"
"Yes. The English came and blew up our Long Tom!"
"How was that possible?"
"We can think what we like. Why was