Chapter Thirteen.
Wounded and a Prisoner.
A month after he reached Pretoria, Jack’s wound was almost healed, and he really had no need to keep his arm in a sling. But, for the first time in his life, he made a pretence of feeling weak, and still walked slowly, as if he were feeble after his adventurous encounter with the lion.
Guy Richardson, too, was now quite strong again. His broken arm had united firmly; but still he persisted in wearing it slung in a scarf, and thus escaped being sent to the front.
They were both inmates of the hospital, which was once a school building, but had now, like hosts of others, been turned into shelters for the wounded. Of these, despite the small numbers acknowledged by the Boers, there were now hundreds—so many indeed that the staff of doctors and attendants was taxed severely.
The building in which Jack and Guy had been placed had large windows, and as they were the only Englishmen there, no sentries were placed over them. There were about twenty other patients in the hospital, who were constantly changing, those who were sufficiently well being sent elsewhere to make room for more severe cases. Consequently there was little to fear from their companions, and the two young fellows, feeling now sufficiently strong to stand the fatigues of a long journey, decided to make their long-talked-of attempt at escape.
“Now, the first thing to be settled is which frontier we shall make for,” said Jack, when they were discussing the matter. “The best and easiest way is to the east, through Komati Poort, into Portuguese territory, and on to Lorenzo Marques. We could get a steamer there, sailing from Delagoa Bay to Durban, and so should be able to join the British troops. The difficulty about the matter is that all trains to the coast will be closely watched, for there are many Englishmen, like yourself, endeavouring to slip away.”
“Yes, Lorenzo Marques appears to be the best place to aim for,” Guy answered thoughtfully; “but the whole of the frontier is certain to be strongly patrolled. Supposing it were out of the question for us to attempt to get through on the east, what direction do you think we ought to take?”
“I should say that Natal, by way of Harrismith, would be the best, Guy. I have made the journey once before, and it will have two advantages. One is, that both the Transvaal and the Orange Free State are practically deserted; and the second, that such a mad act as the attempt on the part of an escaping prisoner to cut into Natal, where the Boers are so strongly posted, would never cross their minds. These burghers are slim, very slim, but recklessness is a vice they cannot understand. Their motto is to take due care of themselves, and to attempt to creep through the enemy’s strongest position would mean as much as suicide to them. If Komati Poort and the eastern coast are too carefully watched I think we ought to try to reach Natal and get into Ladysmith. The Boers have failed to take the camp, and from what the doctor here has told me are likely to be kept outside for an indefinite period.”
“But we could never hope to get through as we are,” cried Guy. “Remember, Jack, Harrismith is a long way from here, and we should certainly be seen by someone.”