Charge! A Story of Briton and BoerFenn, George Manville
General
Charge! A Story of Briton and Boer
Fenn, George Manville
South African War, 1899-1902 -- Fiction
Joeboy soon settled himself close to my feet, and then began our long
and painful watching, hour after hour, through a night which seemed as
if it would never end. I had no desire to question the black, for his
action fully proved to me that our position must be perilous unless we
left the horse to shift for himself, and all this was sufficient to keep
off any desire for sleep; while a whisper from time to time was
sufficient to satisfy myself that my companion was as wakeful as I. As
the time passed on the mist seemed to thicken around us, with this
peculiarity striking me: it seemed to shut us completely in, so that not
a sound reached our ears, the silence being to me perfectly awful.
At last the morning was heralded by a faint puff or two of chilly air
which came and went again, till at last it settled into a soft breeze,
whose effects were soon apparent. All at once, as I looked up, a cloud
of mist became visible, then floated away; and as if by magic the sky,
of a soft dark grey, dotted with a faint star or two, came into sight.
Then day began to advance with rapid strides, and I found my notion of
our being upon a bracket of rock was not too far-fetched, for we were
upon a jutting-out promontory of some fifty feet across, from whose
edges the rock went down in places perpendicularly, in others with a
tremendously steep slope, while the way by which we came on was not
above half-a-dozen yards wide.
"You were very wise, Joeboy," I said as I rose to look round. "It would
have been madness to try leading Sandho off there in the fog."
"Um!" said Joe quietly; and then: "Look!"
He pointed away to our right, and, following his direction, I could here
and there make out the missing path down the pass, winding along in
rough zigzags till lost in the distance.
I was soon in my saddle again, and Joeboy led the horse off the perilous
place where we had passed the night, and then up the pass again for a
couple of hundred yards to where the track had borne off a little to the
right, but where we had kept on through the mist perfectly straight,
with nearly fatal results.
We looked anxiously up now as we turned off into the proper track, fully
expecting to see outposts of the Boers who had fired as we crossed the
head; but none were visible. So we began to descend as rapidly as we
could, but only at a walk, for the track was terribly rough.
It was only very gradually that the valley began to open out, our way at
times being along the stony bed of a mountain torrent; while right and
left the sides of what looked like a tremendous rift in the mountain,
split open in some terrific convulsion of nature, towered up.
We went along cheerily, for every yard carried us farther from risk of
capture by the Boers; and once we were well clear of the pass a couple
of days would, I felt sure, place us safely in the land of my countrymen
with whom the Boers were at war.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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