Claverton watched his late prisoner till he was out of sight, and then returned to explore the ruins afresh, while his men regaled themselves on the ripe fruit which grew in the garden in such profusion; and very grateful was the luscious feast to their throats, dry with the smoke of powder and the shouting and excitement of the morning’s fray. Just as he was about to enter, the part of the roof which had escaped fell in with a crash, nearly smothering him in a cloud of dust and cinders.
“I say, Lumley. That was a narrow share of your getting promotion,” was all he said.
Further investigation was of course barred, and the time for halting having expired, the “fall-in” was sounded. As they wound their way out of the valley, they turned to look back. The fall of the roof had disturbed the still smouldering embers beneath, and now a volume of smoke was rolling up from the blackened ruins, darkening the azure sky, and casting a fell shadow upon the sunlit earth. And all Nature smiled around, in fair, mocking contrast to these hideous tokens of the vengeful hate of men.
Volume Two—Chapter Thirteen.
The Main Camp.
It was after sundown when “Claverton’s Levy” reached the camp of the main body of the forces detailed to operate in the Gaika Location.
The camp was pitched on an open flat, well situated for defensive purposes, and commanding a wide open sweep of half a mile on the most closed-in side. In the event of attack upon it the enemy would have to bring more than his wonted verve and determination to the fore, if he would render the chance of even partial success so much as possible; for here were gathered over eight hundred men, all handy with the rifle, and a few volleys, sweeping across that open approach, would tumble the advancing foe over so quickly that he would turn and flee before half the space was covered. A likely-looking force. Border farmers, up-country transport-riders, frontiersmen all—ready for the roughest work and the hardest of tussles, at the earliest opportunity—with many a long score of petty depredation and wholesale marauding, and insolence, and defiance, and menace, and desertion of service to pay off upon their erewhile turbulent neighbours, and now open enemies. Dutch burghers, from the Tarka and Cradock districts—past masters in the art of skirmishing, competent to pick off an object the size of an orange at three or four hundred yards, while exposing the smallest fraction of their own ungainly frames to the enemy’s fire. Volunteers—mostly townsmen—full of fight, if less reliable in their aim than their more practised brethren, all had their separate camps pitched in close proximity. Some of the corps were fortunate and had tents, others were unfortunate and had none. A few waggons were there, containing the supplies and baggage of each corps, or the ventures of private and speculative individuals, who retailed indifferent grog and other “luxuries” at their own prices. On one side of the camp, like a dark cloud, might be seen a swarm of native warriors; this was the bivouac of the Fingo levies, and like a disturbed ants’ nest, its area was alive with black forms moving to and fro and making themselves comfortable for the night, while the hum and murmur of their deep-toned voices rose upon the air.
Having fixed upon a camping ground for his men—to augment whose numbers an additional batch had arrived from King Williamstown—Claverton left his lieutenant in charge, and proceeded to report himself at head-quarters.