With Rifle and Bayonet: A Story of the Boer War

F.S. Brereton

With Rifle and Bayonet: A Story of the Boer War

Chapter One.

A Sad Mistake

The last few rays of a cold September sunset were streaming through the High Street of a large and populous village called Redford, in the county of Surrey, lighting up the pretty red-brick cottages and casting a deep shadow beyond the quaint and tumble-down old porch which led to the church. A few mellow shafts had slipped by it, and, struggling through the iron bars of a massive gate, travelled up a long gravel drive and cast a ruddy glow on the windows of a fine country mansion.

In one of the rooms facing the sunset, a man and a woman were standing opposite one another, engaged in angry conversation, while outside, on the great staircase, the subject of their dispute, a boy of about eleven, was slowly making his way upward, stopping now and again to let his head drop upon his folded arms against the banisters, and sob as if his heart would break. At last, after many stops, he reached a landing midway up, and was just in the act of succumbing once more to his grief when a jeering and unsympathetic laugh from above caught his ear, and caused him to give a violent start. Instantly the lad dried his eyes, and choked back his sobs. Then, with a sudden gesture, as if of determination to forget his sorrow, he crossed the landing, and with his head now held proudly erect in the air, ran up the remaining stairs and was quickly out of sight.

Meanwhile, in the room below, the man and woman faced one another in the gathering gloom, while angry words passed between them.

The former, Captain Charles Somerton by name and title, a lithe and active man of middle age, was evidently ill at ease. He stood close beside his writing-desk, shuffling restlessly from one foot to another, and toying with a paper-knife. His wife, on the other hand, was apparently calm and self-contained, though a careful scrutiny of her features would have shown that passion had almost mastered her. She was a proud, haughty-looking woman, and now that her temper had almost got the better of her there was a decidedly evil look upon her face. She listened impatiently to what her husband was saying, glaring spitefully at him, and occasionally opening her lips as if on the point of interrupting.

“My dear,” the captain was saying, somewhat nervously, “you really must be more kind to the poor little chap. Scold him if you wish to, for I have no doubt that, like all boys, he is constantly up to some kind of mischief; but if you have occasion to correct him, do so in a more gentle manner. He is quite a young lad, you must remember, and I am sure that his worst deeds cannot merit such punishment. You frighten him out of his life, and you do what I consider an extremely unkind thing – you constantly hurt his feelings, well knowing him to be a thin-skinned boy. Poor little chap! If you are not more careful he will detest you. You say that he and Frank together smashed a piece of valuable china in your boudoir? How then is it that Frank is forgiven, while Jack, who is the younger by more than a year, has his ears boxed and is spoken to so harshly?”

“There you are again, Charles!” was Mrs Somerton’s angry answer. “How often must I tell you that Jack is the ringleader in all the mischief? If it were not for him Frank would never go astray, for he is a quiet and good-mannered boy, and, unless led away by the bad example of the other, always conducts himself as I should wish.”

“I am much inclined to disagree with you there, Julia,” the captain replied, with some show of temper. “It seems to me that there is something of the hypocrite about Frank. His manners may be good, but he can never look one in the face, and he is ready at any moment to snivel and whine. Jack may be a naughty boy, and given to getting into mischief, but I tell you candidly that I would far rather that he were so than a namby-pamby, milk-sop lad, afraid to say boo! to a goose. He’s a plucky little fellow, and all that is wrong with him is that, like the majority of healthy individuals, he has a large stock of animal spirits, which are a tremendous help in getting one along in this world, but which occasionally lead one into trouble. You say he is the ringleader; but to my mind that only shows his pluck. He goes ahead where others are afraid and hang back.

“But there, my dear, do not let us quarrel about this trumpery matter. Remember that when I, a widower with one boy, married you, a widow with an only son, a great object of our union was that the lads might prove good brothers and playfellows. That was three years ago, and now we have the satisfaction of knowing that they are fairly good companions, and our wish is that they should continue so. Treat them alike, Julia, and they will always be firm friends. But make a difference between them, punish one for the other’s faults, and you will surely separate the lads and cause them to dislike one another. As for the bit of china, I am sorry it is broken. Give it to me next time I go to London, and, if possible, I will replace it, or buy you something more valuable.”

Captain Somerton spoke in his kindest and most conciliatory manner, and patted his wife playfully on the arm. But this subject of the two boys was a bitter one to her, and she was far from feeling appeased.

“Yes, it is just like you, Charles, to take Jack’s part!” she exclaimed, with an angry sneer. “It is always the same, and, upon my word, I have no patience with you. Jack is a mischievous little monkey, and if there is to be an unpleasant scene between us whenever he misbehaves himself, then the sooner he is sent away to school the better. If I had had my way he should have gone long ago.”

Mrs Somerton, having delivered a parting shot, glared angrily at her husband, and bounced out of the room, banging the door after her.

As for the captain, he was evidently distressed that his attempt to set matters right had failed so completely. He gave a deep sigh, and, sinking resignedly into a chair, lit a cigar, and smoked furiously till the room was filled with choking clouds, through which the red end of his cheroot glimmered feebly.

He was a soldierly-looking man, tall and upright, and with a kindly expression on his face. Had a stranger seen him he would have taken him at once for what he was. There was no mistaking the moustache and the military air; while, had anyone been in doubt, the manner in which his grooms – who were all old soldiers – saluted him, and his method of responding, would have been convincing to the dullest. A few years before the event just narrated Captain Somerton had belonged to a crack hussar regiment. But, his father dying, he had resigned his commission, in order that he might be able to manage in person the property which had come into his possession.

Then it was that his first wife had died, leaving him with a child of five. Three years later he had married a widow, who also had a boy.

It had been a sad, indeed a fatal, mistake. His second wife was unsuitable in every respect, and was the very last woman he should have selected. She had no sympathy with him, spent much of her time amongst smart people in London, and when at home invariably upset the house, and caused her husband displeasure by her treatment of his boy. Indeed, as time passed, she seemed to take a positive delight in speaking sharply to Jack, knowing well that by doing so she caused Captain Somerton pain and annoyance.

And Jack – poor little fellow! – though at first he had, boy-like, quickly forgotten his scoldings, was now really in terror of his unloving stepmother.

People who knew the Somertons, and were callers at Frampton Grange, soon learnt what kind of a woman its new mistress was. Though outwardly all that was pleasant and entertaining to them, they quickly gauged her character, and knew her to be a source of discord in a house which was, before her arrival there, one of the happiest in the land. They summed her up, noticed the icy looks with which she often greeted Jack, and contrasted them with the tender embraces with which she almost smothered her own son.

Then they discussed the subject by other firesides till it was almost threadbare, and came to the conclusion that jealousy of Jack’s undoubted superior qualities and good looks was the main cause of her unkind treatment of him.

And below stairs, in the kitchen of Frampton Grange, the captain’s servants put their heads together many a time, with the result that all sympathised secretly with their master and his son, and cordially disliked the new mistress and the peevish and ill-mannered cub belonging to her.

Even as Captain Somerton and his wife were exchanging their views in the study above, old Banks, the butler, who had been with the Somertons for many years, was holding forth with unusual vehemence to the cook and maids below.

“I calls it just about a shame!” he cried indignantly, bringing his fat fist down upon the table with such a thump as to make his audience start out of their seats and cause himself a twinge of pain.

“Why can’t she let the boy alone? Poor little chap! She’s always a-nagging at him; and to hear her going on at the captain is enough to make yer tear yer hair. And he sits there in front of her as tame as a girl, and gives her back gentle words. Bah! I hates it! Yer wouldn’t think at such times as he’s got a name for miles round here as the daringest rider after hounds; but that’s what he has, as anyone would tell yer. And yet, when he gets in front of her, and she starts to tackle him, he’s as mild as milk, and scarcely dares to answer her. She’s a vixen, that’s what she is, cook, and I can tell yer I ain’t much in love with her. Why don’t he pitch into her a bit? But I dare say he acts all for peace! He dislikes a row, as all gentlemen does, and his motter is ‘Least said the soonest mended’. ’Tain’t the way I’d do it if I was in his shoes! I’d pretty soon make her leave the boy alone and stop her talk, I can assure yer!”

Banks shook his head in a threatening manner, and finding that his outburst of indignation had gained for him the sympathy and admiration of his fellow-servants, gave a deep grunt of satisfaction, and was on the point of launching forth afresh when a bell, rung from Mrs Somerton’s boudoir, sounded in the passage.

With a startled “Oh, lor!” he was himself again. His flushed features at once assumed their accustomed impassiveness, and with a hasty hitch at his tie to place it in the most exact position, he slipped hurriedly from the kitchen to obey the summons.

And now to follow the boy who had been weeping so bitterly on the stairs. Having gained the landing above, he entered a large room which was evidently set aside for the lads to play in. It was carpeted with felt, almost bare of furniture, and had stacks of cricket bats and balls and other implements in its various corners. Encircling the room, and running close to the wall, was a miniature set of rails, with a wonderfully-constructed station near the fireplace; while opposite the door there was a long tunnel, built up with artificial bricks and earth, from the mouth of which a beautiful model locomotive had half emerged, and remained there stationary, waiting for steam to get up again, and hinting gently to its two old playmates that they were sadly neglectful of their one-time friend.

Here, seated on the fire-guard, with his legs dangling some inches from the floor, was a dark, sallow-complexioned lad, with heavy features and shifting eyes, who went by the name of Frank.

“Well, baby!” this pleasant young gentleman remarked as Jack entered the room, “so you’ve been blubbing again, have you? Why, you are always turning the taps on. We shall have a flood soon.”

“If you were anything but a sneak you would take my part, and your own share in the blame,” Jack answered sharply, vainly endeavouring to steady his quivering lip. “You are a coward to leave me to bear it all. Why did you say that I broke the vase, when you know very well that you pushed me against it? I may be a baby, but I’d rather be that than a coward and a sneak.”

Jack blurted out his last words boldly, and glared defiantly at his stepbrother.

“Here, you shut up, baby!” cried Frank, slipping to the floor and looking threateningly at him.

“Sha’n’t,” said Jack stubbornly. “You know it’s the truth.”

“It’s the truth, is it, baby?” repeated the other, lifting his hand menacingly. “Take it back, or I’ll lick you.”

“I won’t take it back. You are a sneak and a coward, and now you are trying to be a bully,” cried Jack sturdily, facing his opponent without a sign of flinching.

“Then take that!” shouted Frank, bringing his hand with a smack across Jack’s face.

Words ended there. Jack might be a baby and give way to tears when he had been treated unkindly, for he was a very sensitive boy, though not wanting in manliness, but for all that it took a considerable amount of physical pain to make him whimper.

On the receipt of the blow from Frank his teeth closed tightly, cutting off the cry he might otherwise have given; his hands shot out in front of him, and moved rapidly backwards and forwards as he guarded the vicious blows aimed at him, while he returned them with due interest whenever there was an opportunity. To anyone who did not know the two boys it looked at first a most unfair encounter, for, despite the fact that little more than twelve months intervened between Jack’s birthday and that of Frank, the latter was at least three inches taller, and correspondingly heavy.

But, though Nature had given him a body which overlapped Jack’s by more than a year’s growth, it had placed within it a meagre stock of courage, which fact was quickly brought to light.

In the first scuffle Frank’s weight and reach gave him an advantage, and in spite of his lack of science, he planted some heavy blows on Jack’s face, which, however, only seemed to increase the latter’s stubbornness. He took his punishment without a murmur, and, blinking to clear the stars from his eyes, attacked his opponent with even more vigour and fierceness than before. Then luck favoured him. He succeeded in stopping an ugly rush with such abruptness as to make Frank stagger, and followed it up with lightning-like rapidity.

That was the turning-point. Frank could no longer face him, but dodged and scuttled round the room in a desperate hurry, vainly endeavouring to avoid the blows. One more settled the matter. With a sharp and most unpleasant thud Jack’s fist struck him on the nose, and next moment the bully was grovelling on the floor, writhing and shrieking as if in agony, while a flood of tears poured down his cheeks.

It was a funny sight, and fat and jovial old Banks, who, at his mistress’s order, had scrambled hurriedly upstairs to learn what the commotion was about, chuckled inwardly, and looked on in great enjoyment. Nor was it the only part of the struggle he had witnessed. He had arrived at the door of the play-room shortly after its commencement, quite unknown to the boys, and there he remained, listening for sounds from below, and waiting for a more opportune time to interfere.

“That’s it! Go it, my lads!” he murmured to himself, as he stood panting on the landing outside. “You’re bound to have it out, and I ain’t a-going to stop yer if I can help it. Best get it settled now. That young Master Frank’s been wanting a licking for a goodish time, and I’ll back Master Jack to give it him.”

And so he stood calmly in the darkness, till Jack had, to the butler’s huge delight, proved victorious, when, having cautiously stolen back to the top of the stairs, he returned, walking heavily across the landing, and burst into the room. He was quickly followed by Mrs Somerton, at whose appearance Frank’s agonised bellows increased tenfold, while Jack went sullenly to the fireplace and waited for the scolding which he knew would undoubtedly be his. He was not disappointed, and a few minutes later he had retired to his room in great disgrace.

On the following morning Captain Somerton called him into his study, and explained with much kindness and sympathy that he had arranged to send him away to school.

“It will be the best place for you, Jack,” he said, patting him on the back. “You are not too young to go to a public school, and I can vouch for it that you will thoroughly enjoy the life. It will give you opportunities of playing games and of making friends that you have never had here. You will be leaving this house in about a week’s time, and till then, my boy, contrive to live on good terms with Frank. Do not quarrel with him. A term at school will make all the difference, and when you return here you two lads will be the best of friends. There, that will do, Jack.”

Captain Somerton had come to a wise determination. His wife was strongly in favour of home education, and for that purpose a tutor attended daily at the Grange. But to the captain’s mind such a bringing up was far from judicious. He himself had had a public-school life, and had rubbed shoulders with hundreds of other boys, and he knew the value of such a training. He argued, and argued rightly, that in the majority of cases a boy who has never left his home becomes either a milk-sop or a conceited youth, and he was strongly of opinion that Jack should go to school. Now, much to his secret delight, there was an opportunity to separate the boys and send Jack away from home, and he seized it promptly.

Within two days of the quarrel between himself and Mrs Somerton, and between Jack and Frank, he had posted off to a popular and high-class public school not forty miles from London, where he arranged that Jack should be sent at once, as the term was about to commence and he was fortunate in obtaining a vacancy.

Meanwhile Jack had received the news of his impending change in life with the greatest pleasure. For the past three years his had been anything but a happy existence, and the knowledge that there was now to be a change was therefore a source of delight to him. He was not a quarrelsome lad; far from it. But for all that he was not the lad to put up with ill-treatment; and his stepbrother’s attempts to presume upon his year of seniority so often approached the verge of ill-treatment that trouble was constantly occurring.

Still, his father had asked him to be on good terms with Frank till he left for school, and Jack determined to act up to the promise he had given. He told his father he was sorry there had been a quarrel, and retired to the schoolroom again. Frank was there, seated again on the fire-guard, and greeted him with no very friendly looks, made all the more unpleasant by the unnatural size of his nose and lips. But he had had a lesson, and carefully confined himself to grimaces, fearing that Jack might renew the struggle.

The week passed slowly, so that Jack was heartily glad when the carriage drove up to the door, and he and his father were whirled away to the station, together with a couple of large school boxes. The past seven days had been decidedly dull and unpleasant. There had been an obvious coolness between Captain and Mrs Somerton, which affected the whole house, and in addition Frank had been silent and morose, and occasionally inclined to forget his caution and venture upon sarcastic jeers.

But Jack took it all calmly, the knowledge that he was going where he would make many friends helping him to do so. He therefore carefully abstained from answering, and when on the point of leaving, shook hands with his stepbrother heartily. Mrs Somerton gave him a kiss which was as cold as an icicle, and good-natured, fat old Banks squeezed his hand, and huskily wished him good luck and good-bye.

It was not long before they arrived at their destination, and that night Jack was one of the new boys at a large school where there were as many as four hundred. It was a new experience, but he enjoyed it, despite the many jokes which his comrades saw fit to make at his expense. For a few days he put up with them all good-naturedly, and soon felt quite at home; so much so, that before very long, when comparing his present life with the unhappy days he had lately spent at Frampton Grange, he had scarcely sufficient words of praise to bestow upon it.

He quickly fell into the ways of the school, and showed his masters what they might expect of him – which, to tell the truth, was not a great deal at first – and rapidly made friends with all his fellows. As with most popular lads, a nickname was very soon found for him, though why it should have been “Toby” not one of his comrades could have told you. Still, that is what it was, but it was used always in the most friendly way, which showed that he was a favourite.

Before many weeks had passed shouts of “Go it, Toby! Well hit, Toby!” resounded across the playing-fields; while a stranger, looking on at the game, might often have heard a sigh of relief from certain select lads who, like himself, were spectators, as Jack walked out to take his place at the wickets, and “Now we’ll have better luck! Toby’ll give ’em beans!” muttered in very audible tones, and with every sign of satisfaction.

If it was wet, and outdoor games were impossible, Jack was to be found in the gymnasium, or in the workshop, using his hands as best he could, and learning to be dexterous with his fingers.

Thus, in one way and another, he spent his days. The terms rapidly succeeded one another, and almost before he could realise it, he was one of the big boys of the school. At home matters seemed to have improved, and separation had certainly had the effect of making Frank more friendly. But still he was not quite the fellow that Jack was accustomed to. Any attempt to rag or scuffle annoyed him, and sent him upstairs to rearrange his clothing; and as for a rough-and-tumble game of football, he looked on at such a thing with horror, as he also did at Jack’s venturesome attempts to ride a wild young colt which was out to grass in the paddock. Such recklessness was beyond his comprehension; he could not understand Jack’s high spirits, and always endeavoured to curb them as if he were in charge of him.

“Take him easy, Jack!” said Captain Somerton one day, noticing the difference between his sons. “Frank is not used to your rough ways. ’Pon my word, you are like a young bull in a china shop! I hear your shouts and your romping all over the house. But there, don’t let me discourage you. I love to hear it. It wakes the old place up. But be careful, Jack, and if you can, endeavour to copy Frank in politeness. See how well he behaves at meals, and notice how at afternoon-tea he helps your mother when we have callers. Everyone remarks upon his manners, and I can tell you, old boy, you should take a leaf from his book. I like to see you in good spirits, but I also wish you to be well accustomed to the ways of the people you will meet Remember this, politeness is never thrown away; the smallest attention to your elders – the mere opening of a door – is never forgotten, and has before now helped many a man on in the world.”

“Very well, Father, I’ll do my best,” replied Jack heartily. “But I’m an awful bungler, I am afraid. Only yesterday I tried to do as Frank does, and handed round the cream at tea in the drawing-room. I felt just like an elephant; my feet got in the way, and I almost came a cropper on the floor. Then, just as I was helping that old Mrs Tomkins, I caught sight of Spot racing round the house after a cat. By Jove! it was a near shave, and puss only just saved her skin by bolting across the lawn and jumping into the beech-tree. But the worst of it was, that while I was staring through the window old Tomkins was whispering something or other to Miss Brown, and as neither of us was watching her cup it moved a little to one side, and before I knew what was happening the cream was pouring down her dress. Mother says it was a brand-new one on that day, and that’s perhaps why the old lady looked at me so funnily. She said it didn’t matter, but I could see she was just boiling, and felt glad to get away. Then, of course, Mother had something to say to me, and Frank called me a clumsy beggar. That’s all I got for trying to be polite. But I’ll do what I can to learn; see if I don’t, Father!”

“Ha, ha, ha! That was an unfortunate beginning!” laughed Captain Somerton. “I can well imagine poor Mrs Tomkins’ disgust. You must be more careful next time. Stick to it, old boy! There are lots of other ways in which you can show your politeness, and if handing tea or cream is too much for you, you must leave it alone for a while.”