Chapter VIII: The Ambush

When Jack and his two companions did not return to the Kopje Farm, much speculation was indulged in as to their fate by the men of the Auckland Rangers. It had been the intention of Major Salkeld to saddle up in the afternoon, but the non-appearance of Morton altered his plans, and a couple of hours were spent in reconnoitring by his scouts, but without success.

One of the Kaffirs asserted that he had heard shots fired in the Diamond Valley about noontide, but this statement led to no elucidation of the mystery connected with the disappearance of Trooper Morton and Jack.

Mr. Lovat, too, was uneasy. He knew that his son possessed an adventurous nature, for Jack during his hunting expeditions had been several times absent from home for a couple of days at a time, but it had always been with his father's permission.

Accommodation for the troopers was provided in various parts of the farm buildings, while Major Salkeld partook of Mr. Lovat's hospitality in the farmer's private apartments.

Sentries were posted at various points around the farm, and with anxious hearts the ostrich farmer and his wife retired to rest, but not to sleep. Mr. Lovat's fear was that the three missing ones had fallen into the hands of the Boers.

Dawn at last broke on the veldt. The night had passed without any alarms, and the quietness and solitude seemed oppressive.

Mr. Lovat and the major were early astir, the former directing the "boys" in the serving out of corn to the troopers' horses, while the latter looked after his men.

The little force were able to replenish their bandoliers from the ample stores which Mr. Lovat had in stock, so that each man now carried two hundred rounds of cartridges.

Soon after dawn, the troopers moved off, after taking a hearty farewell of their host and hostess, not forgetting Mary, with whom the Irregulars left many little mementos in the shape of gold coins of the realm, and which they insisted on her accepting--although against her father's wish.

Their route would be by Langeman's Nek, a defile to the west of Rheni Kop, and Major Salkeld had promised his men some fighting before they joined the bulk of the regiment.

The road was very difficult, and progress consequently was slow. Scouts were thrown forward in front and on the flanks, but for a few miles nothing unusual occurred.

The advance guard was suddenly seen to halt and dismount.

Shortly afterwards, one of the scouts signalled, "Halt! remain where you are. We are falling back."

Major Salkeld instantly halted his men, and ordered them to see to the magazines of their rifles.

The four scouts in advance presently came riding in, and the leader at once made his report to the major.

"Sir," began the trooper, "I fancy we shall see some fighting before long. The country in front is admirably suited for an ambush, and a horseman is rapidly approaching. Look, here he comes!"

Round the bend of a kopje, some seven hundred yards away, a horseman was seen galloping at full speed towards them.

The major at once placed his glasses to his eyes and gazed earnestly through them, after which he rode a little ahead.

"He is quite a youngster," exclaimed the major. "Why, it is the son of our worthy friend, the ostrich farmer, up at the Kopje Farm;" and the next moment Jack Lovat pulled up, mounted on a beautiful mare, which was flecked with foam.

"Sir!" gasped Jack, for he was almost breathless, "you are ambushed. Nearly two hundred Boers are waiting in Langeman's Nek for you. Go back at once, sir."

Jack's shirt and jacket were stained with blood, and Major Salkeld with some anxiety asked, "But you are wounded, my boy. What does this mean, and where do you come from?"

"Excuse me, sir," said Jack, "but we must retire into the donga. The Boers will soon be covering me with their rifles. If you had gone much farther, all of you would have been killed!"

The major wheeled round, and followed by Jack Lovat, returned leisurely to where his men, mounted on their horses, were awaiting him.

"Right about!" shouted the officer; "by fours retire to the donga;" and the troopers obeyed.

The retirement was effected in perfect order, without a shot being fired by the unseen enemy. Then the troop was halted, and Jack Lovat told his story in a few simple words.

The major opened his eyes in amazement as Jack narrated his adventures during the previous day and the past night.

"And you say that Morton is shut up in a cave in the Diamond Valley?" asked the officer.

"He was there yesterday afternoon, sir," replied Jack, "and I'm going to him as soon as I can. The Boers bound his ankles with wet hide. He may have been able to get out and crawl a little way, but I'm afraid not."

"And this commando of Boers, where is it?" demanded the major.

"The main body was about half a dozen miles from here last night, and a lot of burghers are holding Langeman's Nek, waiting for you now. I'm awfully hungry. Can you give me anything to eat?'

"Certainly, my lad," cried the major cheerily; and he took from his own haversack some sandwiches Mrs. Lovat had made specially for him, and handed them to Jack, who ate them with great relish.

For a few moments the major was undecided what to do; but after a little deliberation, he ordered his men to dismount. That done, he despatched a couple of scouts to the mouth of the donga.

The donga in which the troopers were now posted was about half a mile in length, and admirably situated for defence, if held by a fairly strong party. In the centre the ground, mostly of a rocky nature, was much broken, affording shelter for twice the number of men now under Major Salkeld's command, and it was towards this part that the officer determined to retreat. Jack's first inquiries naturally were about the inmates of the Kopje Farm, and he felt relieved when the major assured him that everything was right at the old homestead.

"One of the Kaffirs is missing, though," said the officer. "I forget his name. Symonds," turning to an officer, "what is the name of the nigger who went off soon after sunset last night, and had not turned up this morning when we left?"

"Moses, I think it is, sir," answered the trooper.

Jack Lovat stared somewhat rudely at the Irregular and said, "I thought as much! We had him from Van Donnop's. The beggar deserves shooting."

Moses was the only shady character in Mr. Lovat's establishment. Before the outbreak of the war, Moses, a Kaffir of immense strength and stature, had been a most exemplary character; but until news of the small disaster to the British in the armoured-train incident at Kraipan reached the remote district of Orangefontein, Moses on various occasions had asked permission to visit Van Donnop's farm, ostensibly for the purpose of seeing a negress employed by the Dutch farmer, and--Mrs. Lovat possessing as she did a sentimental nature--his requests were always acceded to.

"And so Moses has left the Kopje Farm, sir?" queried Jack. "It looks somewhat fishy. Upon my word, it seems as though Moses had some hand in the disappearance of my father's money."

The New Zealanders reached the broken ground and dismounted, and Major Salkeld awaited the appearance of his scouts, who were now hidden by a bend in the donga.

Presently the 'pip-pop' of Mauser fire was heard in the direction of Langeman's Nek, and the scouts bending low in their saddles, came at a rattling pace towards the place where their comrades were grimly and silently awaiting events.

One of the scouts, Burnand by name, had a ghastly expression on his face, and it was evident that he had been severely wounded, when he dismounted from his horse, as he tottered and fell on the ground.

"A little water, sir, if you please," he gasped, looking at his riding-breeches, which were drenched with blood. "I've been hit. Take my bandolier, for I'm----"

The trooper never finished the sentence, for when a water-bottle was being held to his lips, he gave a sigh, and died. He had been hit by a bullet in the stomach.

"Your report, Fielding, quick," said the major, addressing the other scout.

"The enemy are closing in on the mouth of the donga, sir," said the trooper. "If a dozen men are at once hurried forward, they may be able to check them."

"Now, men," cried the major, "I want no volunteers; there is no time for that. Sergeant Oliphant, pick twenty men quickly. The rest will remain here."

"All right, sir," replied the sergeant, a quiet-looking man of thirty; and in a few seconds the non-commissioned officer, much in the same way as schoolboys pick a team of cricketers, selected twenty New Zealanders, who, headed by Major Salkeld and the sergeant, moved forward at a gallop towards the mouth of the donga overlooking Langeman's Nek.

"No; stay where you are," said the officer in answer to Jack Lovat's appeal. Major Salkeld's command to our hero was so peremptory that Jack was obliged to obey.

"Get your horses into shelter," were the major's last words to a corporal. "Possibly we may have to retire to this spot."

At breakneck speed Major Salkeld and his men hurried to the mouth of the donga. A volley of bullets, which luckily emptied no saddles, was the welcome they received.

On each side of the donga stretched low ranges of kopjes, diminutive in size, but offering good shelter from fire which might be directed from the donga.

The major at once dismounted his men, and four troopers led back the horses to a distance of some two hundred paces, on the instructions of the officer.

The remaining troopers fell prone on the ground, after which they crawled forward, sheltering themselves behind big stones and mimosa scrub.

"We cannot afford to lose a cartridge, men," cried the major. "Every bullet must find its mark, or we are done for."

"All right, sir," muttered more than one man; "we'll see to that;" and with strained vision they glanced along the kopjes, from which little spurts of flame occasionally issued--heralds of the coming storm.

"These beggars know how to fight," muttered the major. "No wonder our men were shot down in such numbers at Magersfontein."

The Boers blazed away at the tiny handful of men belonging to the Rangers, with scarcely any reply on the latter's part. The Irregulars were well up in the art of fire discipline, and did not mean to waste a cartridge. Occasionally a slouch-hat peeped from its hiding-place on a kopje, and the report of a Lee-Enfield testified to the quickness of eyesight possessed by the men from Maoriland.

The second casualty among the New Zealanders happened to a trooper named Jordan, a miner, possessed of an adventurous spirit, who, spotting an excellent target in the shape of a Boer whose head and shoulders were exposed, raised himself on his elbows in order to get a better sight, and as he fired, received a couple of bullets in his brain. Without an exclamation, the unfortunate New Zealander rolled over on his side--a dead man.

The spurts of flame from the kopjes came nearer, until at last a terrible cross fire was poured on the isolated position held by the few Irregulars.

"We can do no good here," said Major Salkeld in a voice loud enough to be heard by all his men; "we must fall back on the others. What say you, Sergeant Oliphant?"

A braver man than the sergeant never put on putties, and he answered, "Quite right, sir; we must get back to the other fellows;" and the order was given by the major to retire beyond the bend, where the horses were being held.

Luckily the long veldt grass concealed their movements, or the New Zealanders would have suffered more heavily than they did. As it was, during the short retirement, three men were hit--one killed outright, and the others dangerously wounded.

"We cannot leave these men here," said Major Salkeld; so the stricken troopers were picked up and carried to where the odd men were standing with the horses. The rifles which the wounded and dead had dropped when they fell were not forgotten.

The Irregulars were now out of the line of the enemy's fire, and no time was lost in retreating to where Jack Lovat and the remainder of the Irregulars were posted.

One of the wounded men succumbed shortly after reaching the place of shelter, so that the morning's fatalities up to the present totalled three out of a very slender force.

The horses, none of which had been hit, were picketed in a little ravine, and three men told off as guard, after which Major Salkeld saw to the defence.

An unpleasant thought flashed through his mind, and the brain message resolved itself into the question, "Are we in a death-trap?"

The sides of the donga were precipitous, and clad here and there with geraniums and heath of various species. Quartz rock of almost snowy whiteness peeped out, forming a striking contrast to the vivid red of the geraniums and the brown mottled surface of the heaths.

"Oliphant," said the major, addressing his sergeant, "do you think it politic for us to retire straight through the donga by the way we came, and retrace our steps to the Kopje Farm?"

A grim look was on the sergeant's face as he replied, "It would be, sir, if we could manage to do it."

"What do you mean, Oliphant?" queried the officer. "There will not be the slightest difficulty in the way, only I don't quite like the idea of falling back. It is against our traditions, you know."

"I thoroughly understand what you mean, sir," answered the sergeant; "but I am very much mistaken if even now both ends of the donga are not closed against us. I believe we are in a death-trap, sir."

"It doesn't say much for our scouting," muttered Major Salkeld; after which he added aloud, "Get the men ready to start, Oliphant. Poor Mason must be left for a time at least."

Two wounded troopers were in a bad plight. One had been shot through the lungs, but still lived, while the other, more fortunate, was suffering from a broken arm.

Jack Lovat when he realised the true state of affairs at once volunteered to remain behind with the trooper who was lying at death's door, but the gallant lad's offer was firmly refused by Major Salkeld.

The latter was in a terrible dilemma. If he and his little force left their present place of shelter, and a section of the Boers had crept round to the other end of the donga, it would mean almost certain death, or at the best surrender, and the men riding in the ranks of the Auckland Rangers had made a solemn vow when they landed in the country never to be taken alive.

The major made up his mind. He would remain; so he set his men to work to intrench themselves, after which he despatched scouts to each end of the donga.

Jack Lovat this time would not be denied, and along with Sergeant Oliphant made his way to the mouth of the donga leading to the Kopje Farm.

Two hundred yards from the entrance they dismounted and picketed their horses. Then on hands and knees they began crawling towards the mouth of the donga.

"I hope you have the safety catch of your rifle on," whispered Oliphant. "We must have no accidents."

"It is all right, Sergeant," replied Jack.

This part of the donga was covered with long veldt grass, nearly a foot high, and although it somewhat impeded their movements, it screened them fairly well from observation.

No signs of Boers could be seen, although Jack and his companion carefully scrutinised the ridges on both sides of the donga.

At length a peculiar noise was heard. It was something between a whistle and a cry. The two scouts fell prone and lay still. Presently Jack whispered, "See, Sergeant, on your right front. The place is swarming with Boers."

Scarcely had he finished speaking when the report of a volley rang through the donga. The bullets whistled harmlessly over the heads of the Colonial and his young friend. Involuntarily Jack turned his head. The two horses lately ridden by himself and his companion were lying stretched on the ground.

For a few minutes both lay still, not daring to move a limb, until a fierce fusillade broke out at the other end of the donga. This decided the sergeant, and he whispered, "We must get back, boy. We are hemmed in, but I think it best to fight it out together."

And so thought Jack. Although only a few hundred yards from their friends, it took the pair nearly half an hour to regain the intrenchment. They crawled on their hands, knees, and stomachs, wriggling like serpents in the long grass, and although both had several near escapes from being hit, they did not receive a scratch.

Things looked very black at the intrenchment. Three men were already lying in a last long sleep, while more than a dozen had been wounded.

The little band of New Zealanders was suffering from a heavy frontal fire, to which at any time might be added a terrible flank one.

Several horses had been killed, and the moans of the wounded men and their cries for water were heartrending. Major Salkeld, with a white face streaked with blood from a wound in the head, looked as grim and determined as ever.

His men had not wasted a cartridge, for they knew that the exhaustion of their bandoliers meant death or surrender.

One young trooper, Coke by name, who through love of adventure and fighting had thrown up a splendid appointment in the Bank of Australasia, received a mortal wound in the stomach as he slightly rose to twist round his bandolier.

With a blanched face, he turned to Major Salkeld and gasped, "I'm done for, sir! Take these;" and with great difficulty and increased agony he wrenched off his bandolier and handed it to the officer.

"One drop of water, before I die!" muttered the poor lad; but water there was none within fifty yards, and the open must be crossed before that could be obtained.

"I'm going for some water," said Jack Lovat, laying down his rifle, and heedless of the officer's remonstrance, Jack coolly collected half a dozen water-bottles, and leaving the shelter of the intrenchment, ran forward in search of the precious fluid. Thoughts of danger possibly entered his mind, but the desire to alleviate the sufferings of his wounded comrades was paramount.

The peculiar 'phit-phit' of Mauser bullets whisked round his head, but he ran steadily on, untouched by the nickel messengers of death. Then the fire suddenly ceased, and Jack filled the water-bottles and returned to the intrenchment.

"My lad," cried Major Salkeld, "you deserve a hundred Victoria Crosses. I will see, if we get safely out of this, that you shall not go unrewarded."

A white flag fluttered in the breeze not three hundred yards away, and a couple of Boers holding the signal of truce, advanced.

"Shall I go and meet them, sir?" asked Oliphant.

"Yes, do," replied Major Salkeld; "see what they want. But no surrender. That is our motto. They must not see our weakness."

The sergeant stepped forward and met the Boers half-way. He had heard plenty of tales concerning white-flag treachery, but he knew that if anything happened to him, his fall would be speedily avenged, for a dozen deadly levelled rifles in the intrenchment would speak with fatal effect.

"We demand your surrender," said one of the Boers to Oliphant, a heavily-bearded man, with a by no means unpleasant cast of countenance. "There has been enough bloodshed, and you have proved yourselves brave men. You have no chance, and will surely all be shot down. Veldt-cornet Steyn wishes me to express his admiration of your fighting qualities. Are you the officer in charge of this detachment?"

"I am only a subordinate," answered Oliphant. "I cannot make or even discuss terms."

"Then return to your commanding officer, and tell him that if his force does not surrender within ten minutes, firing will be resumed, and then God help you."

Oliphant bowed, and returned to the intrenchment.

Major Salkeld on hearing the sergeant's narration of the brief interview with the Boers, exclaimed, "We do not surrender. Not an Aucklander yet has been captured by the enemy. We will fight to a finish."

A few minutes later, the Boers again opened fire upon the brave New Zealanders, now sadly diminished in number.