Chapter 8 | Volunteers Volunteer | A Dash From Diamond City

Rumours that proved to be false and rumours that proved to be true were plentiful enough during the following fortnight; and in that time Kimberley was transformed from a busy mining camp in which the black and white inhabitants were constantly going and coming like ants in a hill to a town whose siege was imminent, and whose people thought of nothing but preparing for the enemy, and whose talk was of rifle, cartridge, and trench.

But there was something done beside talk, the people loyally joining with the small military garrison in preparing for the defence of the place; and, while one portion worked to strengthen every spot that would form a redoubt, the other strove as long as was possible to get in stores to enable the defenders to hold out if they were besieged. For the determination was strong to save the enormous wealth of the place from the enemy whose borders were so short a distance from their lines.

Drilling and instruction in the use of arms were carried on almost night and day, and in a very short time the military element seemed to have pretty well swallowed up the civil, while each hour found the people more ready to meet the first rush of the dogs of war.

It was a most unsuitable place for defence, being a mere mining camp pitched in a wide bare plain, the only part suitable for turning into a keep being the huge mound cast up by the excavations in the search for diamonds; and this was fortified to the best of the defenders’ ability almost from the first. But the situation had its advantages as well as failings, for the flat, open, desert-like land stretched right away on all sides, giving an enemy no undue advantages in the shape of kopje or ravine to turn into a natural fortress from which the town could be attacked.

The place, then, was a fair example of weakness and strength, the latter, however, daily growing, in the shape of a stern determination to give the Boers a very warm reception when they did attack.

So the days glided rapidly by, with authentic news at first fairly abundant, but invariably of a very serious nature, and whenever they were off the new duties they had to fulfil, the said news was amply discussed by the two young men, who from their prior preparation had stood forward at once as prominent members of the semi-military force.

“Be patient,” said Ingleborough laughingly, one evening; “there’ll be plenty of fighting by-and-by. I’d no idea you were going to develop into such a fire-eater.”

“Fire-eater? Absurd! I only feel deeply interested in all we are doing.”

“That’s right, Noll! So do we all; but let’s have no rashness. Remember all the drill and discipline. That’s where we shall be able to tell against the enemy. They can use their rifles well enough; but they are an undisciplined mob at the best. By the way, have you run against the flute-player lately?”

“No, but I met the people with whom he lodges yesterday. They knew me again, and came up as if wanting to speak.”

“What about?”

“Oh, they began by talking about the war and asking me whether I thought it would last long.”

“To which you said No, eh?”

“I only said that I hoped not, and then they volunteered the information that they believed Anson was going to leave the town for the south.”

“Indeed?” said Ingleborough sharply. “What made them think that?”

“Because their lodger had packed up all his little belongings and had bought a wagon and a span of oxen, which he kept just outside.”

“Well, he’ll lose them if he doesn’t look out. He’ll find himself between two fires. Either the oxen will be seized for stores, or the Boers will cut them off. The fellow must be either desperate or mad.”

“In a fright, I should say,” said West. “I don’t think he would stomach the fighting.”

“Oh, it’s all nonsense! The report this evening was that the Boers are closing round us fast. He’ll be stopped by one side or the other. Norton ought to know of this, though.”

“I daresay he does know already,” said West; “for he told me the other day that he was keeping his eye on our friend.”

“So he did,” said Ingleborough thoughtfully. “He has some idea of catching him trying to communicate with the enemy. If he does, Master Simon will not get off so easily as he did over the diamond business. Well, I’m tired, and I shall go to bed. Let’s sleep while we can. There’s no knowing what a day will bring forth!”

“You are right,” said West. “You think we shall really come to close quarters?”

“Yes, and very close quarters too. I’ve expected it before now.”

Nothing happens so surely as the unexpected, someone once said; and it was so the very next day.

Military drill was, as intimated, constantly going on; but that next morning there was a larger gathering than usual, the principal part of the regulars being drawn up in lines with the volunteer defenders—in all, a goodly show.

It was to some extent a general inspection; but after it was over the men were formed up as three sides of a hollow square, and the Colonel in command addressed the men, complimenting them upon their behaviour, and then giving them the contents in a great measure of the despatches he had received from headquarters, in combination with the reports of the scouts and from the outposts. He concluded by saying that in a few hours they would, in all probability, be completely shut off from communication with the south, for the Boers were closing round them in great force, and that until they were relieved they would be called upon to hold Kimberley, making a brave defence to save so important a town from falling into the hands of the invader.

Here he was stopped by a tremendous burst of cheering, which hindered him from saying, as he intended, that they must be of good heart and full of trust that the General in command would soon send help.

But the enthusiastic cheering taught the Commandant plainly that the men before him needed no “heartening up,” and he smiled with satisfaction as he felt convinced that every call he made upon them would be answered.

What followed was short and to the point. He thanked them, made a few remarks about his determination that no Boers should drag the British flag from where it fluttered, told the garrison that he was proud to say that they had an ample supply of provisions and military stores, and that the Boers had only to make their first attack to find how they had deceived themselves about the British surrender at Majuba Hill.

Here there was another deafening burst of cheers.

Finally he made a fresh allusion to the well-known town farther north which was being surrounded by the enemy even as they were being shut in there.

“It will be a race,” he said, “between us as to which town will first beat the Boers off; and the victors will then have the glorious task of going to the relief of the others.”

After this the regulars were marched off to their quarters, leaving the volunteers standing fast; and the Commandant now summoned their officers to his side.

As it happened, this was within a few yards of the spot where West and Ingleborough were drawn up in the line, and every word the Commandant spoke came to them clear and plain.

“I have another little business to speak about, gentlemen,” he said, “in connection with a second despatch which was enclosed to me this morning within my own. It is a letter of instructions I am ordered to convey to our brave brother-in-arms now in command at Mafeking; and, on thinking the matter over, I concluded that it would be unwise to select one of my own men to carry that despatch, from their want of knowledge of the country and people, and far better to apply to you gentlemen to recommend to me a thoroughly trustworthy man or two, who, regardless of all obstacles, would carry the despatch, bringing to bear force or cunning so as to evade the enemy’s scouts, for the road is sure to swarm with them, even if it is not occupied by the Boers in force. It is possible, too, that Mafeking may be completely invested when he or they reach its neighbourhood; but I must have a despatch-rider who will look upon even that as a trifle to be overcome or crossed, and who will not rest until the despatch is safely placed in Colonel Baden-Powell’s hands. Let me be fully understood: I want messengers who will be ready to fight if necessary or fly if needs be, but only to rebound and try in another direction—in short, men who will button up this despatch and say: ‘It shall be placed in Baden-Powell’s hands by hook or crook as soon as a swift horse can cover the ground.’ This is what I want, and it is urgent, or it would not be placed in my hands to deliver with such stern commands. It means life or death to hundreds, if not thousands. So now then, whom do you know that will, with the assistance of a brave comrade, risk his life and carry my despatch?”

A dead silence, which lasted many seconds, fell upon the group, but at last the volunteer Colonel spoke out.

“I am not prepared to name anyone, sir,” he said, “and I flinch from sending any man in my regiment upon so terribly perilous a journey, for it means almost to a certainty being shot down, for the bearer of the despatch will be bound to hurry on and pay no heed to challenges to stop.”

“Certainly,” said the Commandant, frowning; “but surely—”

“One moment, sir; I was about to say that the fairest way would be to call for volunteers, and then select the two most likely men.”

“Well,” said the Commandant, “do that then, and let the men fully understand that it is a most dangerous task. Mind, too, that he must be a good and a rather reckless rider, able to bear fatigue, and above all determined to do this thing for the honour of his country and the saving of his brother men.—Yes, my lad, what is it?”

For West, whose face had flushed deeply and whose blood tingled in his veins, had taken four steps forward out of the ranks, and now stood with his hand raised to the salute.

“Give me the despatch, sir,” he said. “I’ll take it.”

“You?” cried the Commandant wonderingly, as his eyes ran over the speaker. “You are very young. But are you a good rider?”

“I think I can ride anything well enough, sir.”

“Splendid rider,” said a deep voice, and Ingleborough strode to the young man’s side. “He’ll do it, sir, if any man can; and I’ll go with him to help him in the task if you’ll give me orders.”

“Hah!” ejaculated the Commandant. “Yes, I know you, Mr Ingleborough. You belong to the police?”

“Oh no, sir; I am only on friendly terms with the superintendent, and have been on expeditions with him.”

“And you think your young friend would be a good man to carry the despatch?”

“I would trust him if I were in power, sir.”

“Then I will,” said the Commandant, after a long and searching look at West. “Be at my quarters in fifteen minutes’ time, both of you, and we will have further talk on the matter.”

The young men exchanged looks as they resumed their places in the ranks, West’s countenance betokening the wild excitement he felt, while Ingleborough, who looked perfectly calm and contented, just gave him a smile and a nod.

A few minutes later they were dismissed, and the two young men had hard work to get free from their brother volunteers, who surrounded and cheered them loudly, one of the officers proposing that they should be chaired back through the town. But they escaped this on the ground of their orders to go to the Commandant’s quarters, and were at last set free, to hurry away. The next minute they encountered Anson, who had heard and seen all, and passed them without a word, but wearing a peculiarly supercilious and meaning smile which broadened into a grin of contempt that made West writhe.

“Bless him!” said Ingleborough. “Do you know what the pleasant look means?”

“That he will not be happy till I’ve thrashed him.”

“No,” said Ingleborough; “he has evidently heard all, and has made up his mind that he is going to have a pleasant revenge.”

“How? In what way?” cried West.

“He thinks the Boers will shoot us: that’s all.”

“Ah!” cried West.

“But we will not let them, my dear boy,” said Ingleborough coolly. “They’re slim, as they call it; but two can play at that game.”

“Yes, but look: here’s Mr Allan coming to say that we can’t go,” said West excitedly, for the chief director was approaching and raised his hand to stop them, signing to them directly after to come to his side.

“Looks as if he is going to put a stopper on our patriotism,” growled Ingleborough. “We’ve been reckoning without our host.”