With Rifle and Bayonet: A Story of the Boer War

Paul Kruger was a heavily-built man, arrayed in black from head to foot, which shone as all threadbare and worn-out clothing does. On his head was a fairly presentable top hat, and in his fat, ungainly hands he held a pair of black kid gloves.

But his face was the part which riveted one’s attention.

In anyone else’s case but the president’s it would have passed without comment, especially amongst a gathering of typical Boers. But, holding the position he did, one looked a second time, and noticed the wrinkled, jowly cheeks, fringed with a belt of straggly hair; the heavy, sleepy-looking eyes, overhung by bushy brows, and the general appearance of obtuseness.

And yet it was this man who, for the sake of a boundless ambition, was destined to defy the might of England, ay, and stagger it with his blows; and he it was, this sheepish-looking Boer, who for years and years had been secretly dreaming and planning – planning to oust the Britishers from their fair colonies, and claim for himself the proud position and title of President – perhaps King – of the United States of Africa.

Shortly after his return from Pretoria, Jack settled down to life in Johannesburg, and soon found himself quite one of the Uitlanders. His leg was now practically strong again, though he had not yet got rid of the limp. Still, for all that, he was able to get about, and even enjoy a game of cricket.

Soon, too, he became accustomed to life in the store conducted by Mr Hunter, and made it a regular custom to help wherever he could during the morning hours. It was really a large shop, with several departments, and with a big storehouse behind. The main entrance was quite an imposing one, and a common place for friends to meet, while just inside was a large office in which the books were kept.

Jack was often here, and did not take long to master the intricacies of book-keeping, so much so that he soon became of real help to Mr Hunter.

In the afternoon he played cricket or drove out with Wilfred, and in the evening he and his friend frequently sauntered into the town, and played billiards at a large restaurant which was a popular rendezvous. Here he met numbers of Englishmen, and in addition several Boers, some of whom he learnt to like. But the younger men were for the most part odious, and gave themselves such airs that the Uitlanders held aloof from them.

Now it happened that Jack and Wilfred frequently played with two other young fellows, one of whom was a delicate lad about Jack’s age, who had come to Africa for the sake of his health. His name was Mathews, and Jack took a great fancy to him. He was quiet and dignified, seldom spoke unless asked a question, and was as inoffensive and harmless a being as anyone could have wished to meet.

But this very mildness was to be the cause of trouble, as Jack was soon to learn.

Amongst the young Boers who visited the restaurant was one tall young man of about twenty-five, who made himself more objectionable than any of the others. He was bumptious to a degree, and openly expressed his hatred of all Englishmen. Even in the billiard saloon his sneers were loudly uttered, so that Jack itched to thrash him on several occasions. But Wilfred dissuaded him.

“Be careful, Jack,” he exclaimed earnestly, one evening, when the Boer had been more than usually hostile. “Don’t take any notice of the brute, or it will lead you into trouble. I know him well, and so does Father, and I can tell you that Piet Maartens, as he calls himself, is a scoundrel, and a most dangerous man to have anything to do with. He is thickly in with the Kruger gang, and if all is true that has been said of him, he has a reputation that would hang a man in England. I have no wish to blacken his character. I merely tell the truth when I say that he has treated more than one of the Kaffirs on his father’s farm so brutally as to cause death. Keep clear of him, Jack!”

“I’ll do my best, Wilfred,” Jack answered slowly, “but he’d better look out. I’m not going to stand quietly by much longer and listen to his sneers. One would think we Englishmen were dirt beneath his feet. Up to the present his remarks have been general, but I’ll tell you this, if he shouts any of his names at me, I’ll show him that an Englishman is as good as, and perhaps better than, a Boer. I’ve got a game leg, but that won’t prevent me from tackling him if it’s necessary.”

“Take my advice; keep clear of him,” repeated Wilfred. “After all, if you had lived all your life here you would have become accustomed to the doings of these young Boers. Ever since Majuba they have been brought up to think of us and our soldiers as cowards, and their absolute ignorance prevents them from seeing their mistake. I never take any notice of them.”

“Yes, I dare say that is the best plan,” Jack answered stubbornly; “but when I was at school a fellow had to take the consequences of what he said. If he called another chap names there was safe to be a row, and someone got a licking. That’s what happens in ordinary life, and it’s going to be the same here if that Piet Maartens doesn’t look out. Perhaps he could lick me if we had a fight, but I’d rather get knocked about and teach the fellow manners than sit down quietly and be insulted.”

Jack meant every word he said. Himself a kind-hearted and polite young fellow, to hurt the feelings of a comrade, or of a foreigner who happened to be anywhere within hearing of him, was the last thing he would have thought of doing. And to be forced to listen to sneers which were meant for any Englishman who might happen to hear them was so galling that it set his blood on fire. Just as his stepbrother’s attempts to control his actions had raised his ire, so did the behaviour of this young Boer irritate him and stir him to anger. Jack was not pugnacious, but the mere suspicion that he was in the presence of a bully ruffled him, and his meetings with Piet Maartens had so convinced him that this was what he was at heart, that Jack, in his own quiet dogged way, determined to discomfit him at the very first opportunity.

“He’s a bully,” he muttered to himself after Wilfred’s warning, “and I’m not going to put up with his sneers any longer.”

A few nights later the four lads were playing billiards in the restaurant, and the opposite table was occupied by Piet Maartens and a friend, while a number of Uitlanders and Boers were looking on. Jack had completely forgotten his determination, and, wrapped up in the game, had scarcely noticed the other players. Mathews was his partner, and, suddenly getting the balls into a favourable position, was adding rapidly to the score. The onlookers became interested, and all stood up to watch the game. Even Piet Maartens stepped over, and, rudely pushing Jack aside, craned his head and watched as Mathews played a stroke.

“Come here, Fritz,” he cried loudly. “Come and see this Uitlander. See, after all one of these Britishers is some good. Well, there is room for improvement, but whatever happens they will never make brave men.”

Instantly the whole of the occupants of the room became silent, while Mathews turned round and faced the Boer.

“You look after your own game, Maartens,” he said nervously.

“Thank you, little man, but perhaps I prefer to look on at you,” Piet Maartens answered, while his companion gave vent to a sniggering laugh which set Jack’s pulses thumping.

“Then you’ll have to wait a little,” cried Mathews angrily. “I’m going to stay here till you are out of the way.”

“Don’t get angry, my friend,” the Boer answered tauntingly. “Here, this will cool you.” And snatching up a tumbler of iced water which stood on a table near at hand, he deliberately poured it over Mathews, drenching him to the skin.

It was a foolish act and a cowardly one, for Mathews was a head and shoulders shorter than his opponent, and quite incapable of retaliating; and no doubt Piet Maartens had taken this into consideration. But for months and months he had indulged in sneering taunts, and no Englishman had had the temerity to make him answer for them. Not that they always lacked the courage, but it was not policy to fight with a Boer in the Transvaal, and thereby have one’s business prospects ruined. Piet Maartens had traded on this, and also on his height and strength.

Having poured the contents of the tumbler over poor Mathews, he and his companions burst into loud laughter as their victim held his head down and attempted to shake the water off. But a second later they changed their tune.

The sight of such an act of bullying had maddened Jack, and noticing a large glass jug of iced water on another table, he coolly walked over to it, lifted it by the handle, and having reached Piet Maartens’ side, brought it down with a bang on the top of his head, shivering the glass, and drenching him thoroughly. It was tit for tat, and at once a roar of laughter and applause burst from the Englishmen present.

Jack took no notice of it, but stood quietly waiting till Piet had recovered himself. A second later both Boers rushed at him, and struck at him with their cues. One he dodged, and at the same time lunged forward, and struck out so strongly with his fist that Piet’s companion went rolling on the floor. But the other cue fell heavily upon his shoulder, and caused him considerable pain. A moment later he had snatched it out of Piet’s hand, and, breaking it across his knee, clutched the bully by his collar, and belaboured him till he howled for mercy. Then Jack let go, and, standing in front of him, waited to see what would happen, while the Englishmen approached nearer and looked on silently.

“How dare you?” the Boer panted, scowling angrily at Jack. “If it were not that you are only a boy I would break you into pieces. Who asked you to interfere?”

Piet Maartens clenched his fist and, approaching close to Jack, shook it in his face, while his comrade picked himself up from the floor, and looked as if on the point of rushing in again. But Wilfred at once stood by his friend’s side, and the Boer retired to the other side of the room. Meanwhile Jack never moved a step, but, leaning against the table, laughed scornfully.

“Who asked you to ill-treat my friend?” he cried. “He had not injured you, and you deliberately poured a glass of water on his head. For that I gave you a ducking, and when you struck me with your cue I thrashed you with it. Now you threaten to knock me to pieces. Don’t let the fact of my age prevent you. I am quite ready.”

Jack faced Piet Maartens coolly, and proceeded to divest himself of his coat.

“Now,” he said sternly, stepping forward till he was within a foot of Piet, “put up your fists, and I will endeavour to teach you to keep your tongue to yourself, and to be careful in future when you speak of my countrymen.”

Jack squared his shoulders, and put himself into a position of defence, while the onlookers cheered him loudly.

But Piet Maartens had had enough. His eyes dropped before Jack’s determined gaze, and, muttering a fierce oath, he turned on his heel and left the saloon, followed by his companion.

Jack at once slipped on his coat, and, nodding to all, went out with Wilfred and returned at once to the house.

“By Jove, Jack,” exclaimed his friend enthusiastically, “you have done what no one else has been able to accomplish, and I admire your pluck, old chap! But take care of yourself. You have made an enemy of an unscrupulous brute, who will never forget that you have defied him, and made a fool of him. Well, I’m glad you did it; and there is one thing, we shall see less of him at the store. He was always popping in to speak to Father.”

That evening Jack recounted the quarrel to Mr Hunter.

“Ah! I am sorry to hear it, Jack, for you have really made an enemy of a dangerous fellow, as Wilfred says,” remarked the latter. “But I am glad in other respects, for it will keep him away. It would not be policy for me to send him about his business, but as it is he is not likely to trouble me again. For a long time he has spied upon me here, but with what object I have never been able to discover, though I suspect he is an agent of Kruger’s and is suspicious that I have arms concealed on the premises. He really is one of the most uppish of the many bumptious Boers to be met with here and in Pretoria, and of course in other towns in the Transvaal. Everywhere, all over the Transvaal, Englishmen are belittled and sneered at, simply because, years ago, in a fit of generosity we stayed our hands, and would not give them the lesson they deserved. And now we have a very different matter to face. We collectively outnumber them, I believe, but they are all armed, whereas we are forbidden to carry, or even to possess, a weapon of defence. Not only here, but in all the country parts, distrust of us is the rule, and I very much fear things are getting to such a pass that life will become intolerable to Englishmen who are worthy of that name. Once the Boers are openly opposed to us, we shall find ourselves engaged with an enemy nearly every one of whom is a sturdy, weather-hardened fighter, full of pluck and determination, and with a cunning in warfare which will try our troops, should they meet them, far more than is believed. But some day I will tell you all about our troubles. For the present I am glad you showed that fellow that you were by no means afraid of him. He wanted a lesson, and has had it.

“I am going to Kimberley to-morrow, and suggest that you come with me. Matters will have quieted down when you return.”

Jack jumped at the offer, for he had heard much of the diamond city, though when he got there he found that “city” was scarcely the term to apply to it. The mines are situated on the western border of the Orange Free State, which lies directly south of the Transvaal, and are about a hundred miles from Bloemfontein.

It was a distinctly disappointing place at first, at least so Jack thought, especially when compared with Johannesburg. But when he and Mr Hunter had made a round of the mines, he was deeply impressed with the work carried on, and with the prosperous condition of everyone in the town. From Kimberley they returned to Bloemfontein, staying there only a few hours, for, unlike Pretoria, it was of little interest, while at the latter place the huge forts, which had recently been built on most modern lines, were alone well worth a visit.

When they reached Johannesburg again, Jack had been exactly three months in the country, and liked it so much that he determined to stay still longer. His leg was now perfectly strong again, but the accident had been a severe one, and the shock to his system so great that it had brought to light some slight weakness of the lungs, which up to the moment when his thigh had been broken had remained completely unsuspected.

“If you take my advice, my boy,” said Mr Hunter, patting him kindly on the back, one day when Jack had suggested it was time to return home, “you will stay on here for a complete year. We are some thousands of feet above the sea-level, and Johannesburg, and indeed most of the Transvaal, is notoriously healthy. You are not fit to go back to the cold English climate. Of course there is not much the matter with you, but I don’t like that weakness you sometimes complain of. I have written to Dr Hanly and your mother, and the former quite agrees with me that a prolonged stay will do you good.”

“There is nothing I should like better, Mr Hunter,” Jack replied, “but what am I to do with myself all day?”

“Oh, that is easily arranged! You seem to have taken quite kindly to shop life, and I am going to propose that you become one of my regular assistants. I shall only want you in the mornings, and as we always open early you will be able to get plenty of exercise in the open air. You have already made many friends here, and no doubt you will find plenty ready to accompany you on horseback out into the veldt. There are two good horses in the stable which you may use whenever you like.”

Accordingly it was settled, much to Jack’s and Wilfred’s delight, that the former should prolong his visit, and very soon he had quite settled down to the life. Early morning found the two lads in their shirt sleeves outside the store taking down the shutters. By breakfast time everything was dusted and the goods uncovered. After the meal they stood behind their counters, and before long Jack knew as well as anyone in Johannesburg what was the current rate of butter and ham, and what was the lowest figure at which sugar could be sold in order to leave a good margin of profit for his employer.

But there was really no need for the cutting down of prices. A store in such a populous town was a valuable property, and Mr Hunter’s had a reputation which ensured the various departments brisk business all day long. All who patronised it seemed to be in a prosperous way, and indeed only grumbled that all their energies and business prospects were smothered by the continual opposition and stupid action of President Kruger and the Boers.

To say that Jack enjoyed the life he was now leading was to describe his feelings rightly. He took the deepest interest in his work, and after his hours in the shop were done, generally went for a gallop with one or more of the many young fellows he knew. Christmas came and went, and by the early months of the New-Year, the eventful and never-to-be-forgotten year of 1899, he was quite himself again, a rosy-cheeked and manly-looking young fellow whom everyone but Piet Maartens and his Boer sympathisers liked.

So well did Jack’s life agree with him that he was within an ace of deciding to forego his commission in the army and remain for good in Africa. But Mr Hunter dissuaded him.