With Rifle and Bayonet: A Story of the Boer War

“What, Eileen Russel, daughter of the colonist whose house was bombarded at the commencement of the war!” cried Riley in astonishment. “Yes, his house was attacked,” answered Jack, smiling.

“By Jove, then, you must be the fellow we all heard about!” shouted Riley, seizing Jack by the hand; “and now I understand why I could not make out where I met you before. Of course it was in Mafeking, and I remember you left us, to ride north. Good heavens, man! to think that we have been together all these days and you have never mentioned it! Why, the fame of that beating you fellows gave the Boers close to Kimberley has gone everywhere. Shake hands again, old man, and when we reach Kimberley I shall make a point of seeing this young lady and telling her what a brick you are.”

Two days later Jack and his friend left the English camp, and, passing through the lines of the Canadian troops, who had distinguished themselves for their bravery during the whole campaign, and especially in the attack upon the Boer laager, they trotted across the open veldt to Kimberley.

Tom Salter was the first to meet them, and at once conducted Jack to the house in which the Russels had now taken up their quarters.

“There you are, lad,” he said kindly, patting Jack on his broad back; “the girl’s in there, just crying her eyes out for you, and fancying you’ve been hurt. The news came over yesterday that you had been found in Cronje’s laager, and as nothing was said as to your being dead or alive, she has naturally been in a state of anxiety ever since. You go in, old boy, and I’ll take care of Riley. We’ll come along in half an hour and have a yarn.”

There is no need to tell of the joy of the meeting between stalwart Jack and his future bride. Of this be sure, the half-hour flew by so quickly that it seemed to be only a few minutes before Tom and Riley turned up again.

“What do you think of the town now?” asked the former, eyeing Jack quizzically. “I can tell you, my lad, it’s a tremendous relief to be free from those Boers and have plenty of good food and water again. I shall never forget that day when General French marched in. You’d have thought we were a lot of babies. The street was crammed with yelling crowds of pale, sickly-looking men, who had lived for weeks on less than half the accustomed amount, and I know that many a one was too feeble to choke back his sobs. And the women and the kids – God bless them! – just held up their arms and blubbered. I felt just like a girl. But it’s all over now, and we’re beginning to live like decent folks again, up in the air and daylight.”

“Yes,” Jack agreed, “you have had a terrible experience, and have come out of it wonderfully. Now it will be our turn to advance upon the Boer towns and retaliate.”

Far into that night they chatted, and then, bidding Eileen and Frank Russel good-night, Jack accompanied Tom Salter to his quarters. On the following morning he did not awake with that feeling of strength and vigour to which he was accustomed, and all day long was depressed by a feeling of weariness and lassitude. That night he was in a fever, and on the following morning was too ill to get out of bed.

Four months of hard work and exposure had told upon him. Weakened by his wound and by his stay in Ladysmith, Jack had fallen a victim to the foul water and odours of the Boer laager at Paardeberg, and had been struck down with typhoid fever. From that day, for more than three weeks he lay helpless and almost wholly unconscious, tended by his future wife and by another good Samaritan in the form of a soldier’s wife.

And while he lay in bed, fighting for his life, the British troops had been scoring successes. Scarcely had the news of the capture of Cronje and his force and the relief of Kimberley reached England when the glorious message was flashed along the cables that Ladysmith had been relieved on February 28th, after ten days of very heavy fighting.

On March 7th still more news was sent to England, for on that day Lord Roberts attacked a large force of burghers at Poplar Grove, on the road to Bloemfontein. For days they had slaved to dig their trenches, and these extended for miles and miles, while Presidents Kruger and Steyn themselves were there to cheer on their followers. But all to no purpose. We were not going to advance across an open plain and break our forces against an impregnable position. Instead, our cavalry and guns swept round towards the rear, and in an instant the Boers were galloping away towards Bloemfontein, leaving the labour of weeks behind them, and refusing to listen to the entreaties of their presidents, who were also compelled to join in an ignominious flight.

Pressing forward, Lord Roberts again attacked the enemy at Driefontein and dispersed them, killing 102. Driven from post to post, the Boer forces melted away from the neighbourhood of Bloemfontein, the capital of the Orange Free State, and on March 13th the town was occupied by the British without further opposition.

Then came suggestions of peace from President Kruger, demanding independence for both republics; and in reply the English Government refused to assure that independence, and declared its readiness to fight to a finish.

When Jack was at last well enough to be moved, and was taken down country and placed on board a ship, the Orange Free State burghers were throwing down their arms in all directions, a column was marching to the relief of gallant Mafeking, and our armies, the one in Natal and the other at Bloemfontein, were preparing for another crushing stroke.

Eileen and Frank Russel accompanied Jack, and on the same ship were Wilfred and his father and mother.

And how was the news of their coming received at Frampton Grange?

Almost every month had brought news of Jack, news of his daring and of his pluck People who knew Mrs Somerton wrote to congratulate her, while the neighbours for miles around made a point of calling to express their admiration of her stepson. And at length, from cordially disliking Jack, the two inhabitants of the old Grange had caught the general infection, and were as loud as any in his praises. He was weak and ill, and moreover he had much to blame them for, for neither had shown him much kindness after his father’s death; but they determined to make all that good to him, and when at last our hero did arrive at his old home, and, stepping from the carriage somewhat weakly, assisted the beautiful and blushing Eileen to the ground, both Mrs Somerton and Frank were there to greet them with a hearty welcome, while Frank Russel, who was also one of the party, had no cause to complain of his reception.

A minute later a dapper little man, with clean-shaven face, jumped from a trap which had just driven up, and Dr Hanly rushed forward to shake Jack by the hand.

“My dear old boy,” he cried excitedly, roused for once out of his usual placidness, “how glad I am to meet you! What a monster you have grown, and what a name you have made for yourself! Dear, dear! and it seems only yesterday that you went off with a thigh done up in plaster and as stiff as a ramrod, and here you are returning a little weak after your illness, but a man, every inch of you, and with a lovely lady by your side. Lucky dog! Introduce me. Miss Eileen, I shall take the liberty of an old man and a very old friend of Jack’s, and shall give you a kiss. You are a lucky girl, let me tell you, for amongst all our plucky lads there is only one Jack Somerton. Well, there is Mrs Somerton calling us, and – ’pon my word, here is old Banks.”

It was indeed a splendid welcome. No sooner had one shaken Jack by the hand than someone else appeared; a gardener, a groom who had seen some service, and now there was fat old Banks, who had been reinstated, waddling up, beads of perspiration on his smiling face, and his hair almost standing on end with excitement.

“Master Jack, it’s just going to be like old times again,” he murmured, and then shook his hand violently and coughed loudly to get rid of the big lump he felt sticking in his throat.

A home-coming after a long separation is the greatest of joys, and Jack’s was indeed a happy one. Everyone seemed to have a kind word for him, and, what he appreciated far more, a welcome for Eileen Russel.

At home, then, happy and contented, we will leave him, anxiously watching the doings of his comrades out in Africa, and patiently waiting for that day when Eileen should become his wife.

And, meanwhile, his days were fully occupied. Invitations poured in upon him to dine with the gentry round about, and many a time was Jack compelled against his will to narrate his doings with the gallant British troops. And chief of all those tales, the one most appreciated, was that describing the defence of Caesar’s Camp in Ladysmith, and how he had stood there shoulder to shoulder with the Highlanders and riflemen, keeping the Boers at bay “With Rifle and Bayonet.”

The End