With Rifle and Bayonet: A Story of the Boer War

by F. S. Brereton

But Jack was not only a fine-looking young fellow. His rough life and his contact with the Boer had made him quick and slim. He looked even-tempered and easy-going, and appeared to take little heed of what he heard or saw; but he was wide-awake, very wide-awake. He missed nothing, and he put all he saw away to be remembered. Thus his various rides had not only made him acquainted with many people, but by now he knew the surrounding country, and could have found his way over it in the darkest of nights.

In addition, he had had many opportunities of practising with his weapon.

“You’ve got a gun there, Jack, my lad,” Tom Salter had said when they first started out prospecting, “and it’s not for appearances only. You want to learn to use it. I never miss a chance even now, and I’m a pretty good shot, I can tell you, without the slightest wish to boast. Still, I am always practising, because I know there is nothing one gets out of so easily. You must be at it constantly to be a good shot. If you’ve got good eyes, and can spare the time to shoot, you’re bound to turn out a marksman. Look at the Boers! Every one of them living outside the towns is a crack shot, simply because he starts when he’s young and sticks to it. Now what you want to do is to take a pot shot at any likely object we come across out in some of these deserted places. The trunk of a tree, a white stone on the side of a distant kopje, or even a vulture, of which there are numbers hereabouts. They are brutes, and the more you hit the better. You’ve got a Mauser pistol too, and had better make use of it. If this war comes, you’ll find your time has not been wasted.”

Jack followed this advice. During their long, and generally lonely, rides, he would often fire as many as twenty cartridges in an afternoon, galloping up to the object afterwards to see what success he had had. As a rule, he fired from the saddle, but sometimes he would jump to the ground and aim whilst standing; at other times, at Tom’s suggestion, he would slip from his saddle, scuttle hurriedly across a piece of open ground, taking advantage of every boulder or ant-hill, and firing at an imaginary enemy from behind each one. Then, when he had reached a ridge, or a piece of better cover, a glance from his trained eye would pick out the best spot to fire from, and he would lie prone on the ground, without so much as the brim of his hat showing, while the muzzle of his rifle projected between two boulders and hurled forth a stream of bullets as he used the magazine.

“That’s it, my lad,” Tom would say encouragingly. “That’s just how our Boer friends fight, and it’s the only method nowadays, when bullets carry so far, and everyone is armed with a modern weapon of precision. It’ll be ticklish work, I can tell you, if our fellows have to attack from the open, and that’s what it will have to come to, for you won’t find these Dutchmen exposing themselves if they can help it. They’ll sit tight behind their boulders, and we shall have to turn them out at the point of the bayonet. Yes, it will be ticklish work, and will require real grit, but I’ll bet anything our boys will tackle it. There’s another thing too. Every youngster armed with one of these magazine rifles is inclined to blaze off all his ammunition at the first alarm. It’s wasting cartridges, which cannot always be spared; and what is more, it is apt to demoralise the others. That’s what you must guard against. Never use the magazine unless there are lots of beggars coming pell-mell at you. If there’s a rush, then is the time to pump in the lead as fast as you possibly can.

“Then, too, you must learn to train your pony, and whilst I’m teaching you to use your rifle, I may as well instruct you in the other matter also.”

Jack was naturally only too willing to learn. Riding all day long across the open veldt was somewhat monotonous at times, and his rifle practice and other manoeuvres helped to make the journeys pass more pleasantly.

Thanks to the allowance which his father had left him, and which was regularly transmitted from England, he was always supplied with an ample sum, and this, when supplemented with the wages paid him at Johannesburg, had given him sufficient for all his wants. Something to ride was one of the most pressing of them, and with Tom’s help he had, soon after his arrival at Kimberley, become possessed of two Basuto ponies, noted for their hardiness and agility. They were about the size of an English cob, mouse-coloured, and somewhat scraggy looking. But for all that they were wiry little animals, with plenty of spirit, but not vicious. Jack named one Victoria and the other Prince, and had no need to complain of his purchases. They turned out to be fast and sturdy little animals, who could easily thrive on the veldt when stable-fed horses would have starved. In addition, they were absolutely sure-footed, so that one could trust them to gallop down the side of a rough kopje, with the reins on their neck, without fear of an accident, for they were used to the work, and could be left to themselves to leap the boulders which came in their path, and steer clear of the ant-bear holes and nullahs which cut up the ground in every direction.

A few weeks’ training was sufficient, and before the prospecting tour came to an end they would stand stock-still while Jack fired above their heads, or at a touch from his heel would canter on, and turn swiftly with the merest pressure of a knee. A jerk of the reins across their necks, and down they would drop on the ground, the rider standing in his stirrups and easily freeing himself, and there they would lie while Jack fired his rifle over them. Sometimes, too, he would knee-halter them and leave them to graze unattended. This knee-haltering was rapidly effected. A long thong of untanned hide was passed over the neck, close up to the head, and one end put through a slit in the other. The free end was then taken round the leg just above the knee and secured with a clove hitch. The animal could then hobble about over a limited area in search of grass, but could not get far, and the halter could be thrown off at a moment’s notice.

But by this time other and more important matters began to engage his attention. There was an ominous cloud of unrest hovering over South Africa. It affected all, and filled them with anxious thoughts, for none knew when it would burst and let loose the thunder and lightning of a terrible war.