Read Ebook: The War of the Axe; Or Adventures in South Africa by Groves J Percy John Percy Sch Nberg John Illustrator

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matolas. Here the wretched prisoner's appearance was hailed with loud shouts of exultation by the few men and the numerous women and children who inhabited the kraal; and after he had been well beaten and loaded with abuse the thongs that bound his arms were cut, he was stripped of the greater portion of his clothing, and then ignominiously kicked into a hut, where his enemies left him to pass the night as best he might, without a drop of water or the smallest morsel of food.

That Tom Flinders' reflections as he lay, almost in a state of nudity, on the mud floor of the miserable hut--the interior of which swarmed with noxious insects and vermin--were not of an agreeable nature may be readily imagined. A dull feeling of pain racked his weary limbs, his temples throbbed violently, and a burning thirst consumed him, added to which his mental anguish bade fair to drive him mad.

But Tom was not one to willingly give way to gloomy forebodings, and he strove hard to change his thoughts; so that presently he found himself thinking of his parents, especially of his mother, and of their grief at his sad fate; and next he began to wonder what had become of Captain Jamieson and faithful Patrick Keown , and of the rest of his comrades--whether any of them had escaped, and if so whether they would make any search for him.

"They might as well look for a needle in a bundle of forage," said he half aloud.

But thinking of his absent friends was good for poor Tom, for it made him remember that he had One Friend who was never absent; and, reproaching himself for his rebellious and ungrateful feelings and his want of trust, he rose to his knees and offered up an earnest prayer for pardon, and for deliverance from his savage enemies.

After which he stretched himself on the floor of his foul prison, and he at length fell into a heavy sleep.

Tom remained in a heavy drowsy slumber--half sleep, half stupor--for eight or nine hours, and when at length he opened his eyes it was broad daylight. On attempting to get up he discovered that his ankles were secured by a stout cord, though his arms were still free.

"So the beggars have been paying me a visit during the night," said he, assuming a sitting posture and taking a look round the hut. "I must have slept uncommonly sound, for them to have lashed my feet together without rousing me! Halloa! what's this?" he went on as his eye lighted upon a gourd and a few green mealies placed just within his reach. "Come, they don't intend that I should die of thirst, after all!" And eagerly seizing the gourd, which contained about a pint and a half of sour milk, he drained it to the dregs.

"I don't remember ever having enjoyed a drink so much!" exclaimed the poor fellow as he threw down the empty vessel with a sigh. "But oh, don't I wish there had been three times the quantity!"

The day passed without a soul visiting the prison except one repulsive old woman, who brought Tom another and larger vessel of milk and some more mealies during the afternoon, and who, after regarding him with looks of fiendish malignity, deliberately spat in his face as she left the hut.

"Beastly old crone!" growled Tom as he raised the milk to his lips and took a long draught. "What on earth did she want to do that for?" he added, putting down the half-emptied vessel.

Next day our captive hero was left entirely alone, receiving neither food nor drink; driven almost to despair he had serious thoughts of freeing himself from his bonds and rushing out upon his foes, regardless of consequences, but he found he was too weak to make the attempt. Then he became quite light-headed, and jabbered and sang to himself, until at last he fell into a regular stupor; and when he once more awoke to consciousness he found that there was another prisoner in the hut, and that prisoner was--Frank Jamieson!

AN UNEXPECTED MEETING--A FRIENDLY CAFFRE.

"Can this possibly be you, Tom?" exclaimed Frank Jamieson in utter astonishment, when, in the squalid, half-clad figure lying huddled up against the wall of the hut, he recognised his friend and comrade Tom Flinders. "How came you here? It was officially reported in camp that you were killed when our corps attempted to retake the waggons on the 18th. I am most--"

"Would that the report were true!" interrupted Tom in dejected tones; for he felt so completely broken down that not even the unexpected sight of his friend could rouse him. "I should be out of my misery then. These black devils have beaten and kicked me about like a dog; they've insulted and starved me, and driven me half-mad by keeping me without drink. Now I suppose they'll finish up by torturing us both to death." And, unable to control himself any longer, for he was quite hysterical from exhaustion, pain, and thirst, the poor lad burst into tears.

In an instant Frank Jamieson was down on his knees beside his prostrate friend, and, taking a spirit-flask from the pocket of his blouse, he raised Tom's head and made him swallow a small quantity of brandy; he then produced a handful of moss-biscuit from another pocket and pressed him to eat it. But Tom shook his head, saying: "No, thanks, Frank, I'll not take it; you may want it yourself before long. Food is not plentiful in this miserable hole, I can assure you."

"Nonsense, man!" retorted the other, seeing that, in spite of his refusal, Tom cast a hungry look at the biscuit. "Eat it at once, or I'll pitch it away." Then, as Tom devoured the biscuit, Frank said:

"I think our lives are safe, though we may be detained prisoners for some time. The truth is I have a friend at court, who will do all he can for us."

"But you're not a prisoner, Frank?" inquired Tom , as he regarded his comrade with a puzzled look.

"Well, as I told you before, I have a friend at court," Jamieson answered. "It fortunately happened that Untsikana, the chief into whose clutches I fell, is an old acquaintance--in fact, about two years ago I saved his life; and moreover, he was under great obligations to my poor father--"

"The dear old governor is dead, Tom," interrupted Frank with a deep sigh. "I thought you knew it. When last seen he was fighting by your side."

"So he was, but he was all right when I got knocked over. Are you sure he is killed?"

"There can be no doubt of it, I grieve to say. Untsikana saw his body, and also that of poor Patrick Keown. The corps was almost annihilated-- counting the fellows that were with me, there are not more than thirty left."

Their conversation was now interrupted by the entrance of two Caffre warriors, one of whom was Untsikana himself Frank, who could speak the Caffre language fairly well, at once appealed to him on Tom's behalf, and with such success that the chief not only provided him with food and drink, and water to bathe his wounds and bruised limbs, but also procured him an old tiger-skin kaross and a pair of "veldt schoon," to take the place of the garments of which his captors had stripped him, and which had been distributed amongst the dusky inhabitants of the kraal, so that there was no recovering them.

"Your acquaintance Umpty-dumpty, or whatever his name is, is certainly not half a bad chap," replied Tom, whose customary good spirits were returning. "But he is a wonderful exception to the rule. I wonder what they'll do with us?" he added. "Turn us into white slaves, I expect!"

"Impossible to say," his friend answered. "I must sound Untsikana on the subject when he next pays us a visit. I might induce him to aid us in making our escape!"

"That is soon told," said Frank. "You must know," he went on, "that the brigadier broke up his camp at Chumie Hoek on the morning of the 19th, and marched, bag and baggage, for Block Drift.

"I was with the rear-guard in command of the remnants of our poor old corps. The enemy came down in thousands from the mountains and attacked the whole line of waggons, from front to rear, at one time, so that we had some precious hard fighting all along the route.

"Whilst the head of the column was crossing the Chumie River the rear waggons were forced to halt for a bit; and then it was that the Caffres made their hottest attack. The artillery received them with four or five rounds of canister and grape, which staggered them above a bit and checked their advance. A troop of the 7th Dragoon Guards then charged them, and I was ordered to support this charge; because, as no doubt you've noticed, the Caffres generally break when charged, and then re-form when the cavalry have passed through them.

"Well, during the charge my old horse `Trumpeter' was killed, and I got a nasty fall, striking my head against a big stone. When I regained my feet our fellows were a hundred yards away, and before I well knew where I was, I was surrounded by a dozen Caffres, who would have quickly put an end to me had I not recognised Untsikana and called out to him to save my life. He at once interfered and would not let his men lay a finger upon me; but, in spite of my entreaties, he carried me off into the mountains. To make a long story short, I was kept, closely guarded, in a cave until yesterday morning, when Untsikana brought me on here."

"Did the enemy capture any of the waggons?" asked Tom.

"Hope it agreed with his complaint, whatever that may have been!" said Tom, grinning at the thought of the wretched Caffre's discomfiture when the blister began to draw. "But what could have induced the stupid beggar to taste such a thing?"

"Don't you know that the Caffres have an idea that the white man's medicines possess extraordinary strength-giving properties?" his friend replied. "You're not half up in the manners and customs of your coloured compatriots. They will at any time steal physic in any shape or form, and swallow all they steal."

"And did your friend Umpty go in for this course of promiscuous physicking? Though I don't suppose we should have found him so amiable if he had."

"Well," laughed Frank Jamieson, producing a glass-stoppered bottle from his pocket, "while I was in the cave I saw Untsikana handling this, which no doubt he `looted' from the hospital waggon; and he was on the point of swallowing the contents, when, fortunately for him, I caught sight of the label and snatched the bottle from his hand."

"Why, what is it?--castor-oil?"

"Ah! I heard Dr Fraser talking to old McAlpine about it the other evening," said Tom. "This is the first time it has been supplied to the field-hospital. But what did you want to keep such dangerous stuff for?" he added. "There's enough of it to poison a troop, I should think."

"To tell the truth, I popped the bottle in my pocket, and forgot that it was there until this moment. I must throw it away when I have a chance."

"The sooner the better," said Tom. "A pretty job it would be if you smashed the bottle in this dog-hole of a place! We should probably drop off to sleep, and never wake again!"

But Frank Jamieson did not see Untsikana again, for the friendly chief quitted the kraal that very evening to rejoin his brother-warriors, the majority of whom had by this time crossed the frontier into British territory, and were committing great ravages and depredations amongst the Albany farms and settlements--so much so that Colonel Somerset had to march with the greater number of his troops to Graham's Town, and from thence follow up the enemy into Lower Albany.

IN DURANCE VILE--THE PRISONERS LEARN THEIR FATE--A FATAL DOSE.

For three days after Untsikana left the kraal, Tom Flinders and Frank Jamieson were kept in the closest confinement, not being allowed to take any exercise, nor even so much as show their noses outside their narrow prison. During this weary time our unfortunate friends--though they had sufficient both to eat and drink, and were not made to suffer actual personal violence--were forced to put up with the insolent taunts of their captors, and with the virulent abuse of the women and children, who evidently took a delight in congregating round the hut, and assailing its occupants with every insulting epithet they could think of; and, what was far worse, they lost no opportunity of flinging mud, mealie-husks, and other filth through the low doorway, "as though," as Tom truly remarked, "the hut was not dirty enough already!"

This was, of course, exceedingly annoying, and Tom Flinders waxed very indignant; but his friend took things in a more philosophical spirit, remarking that, as they could not possibly put a stop to these unpleasant attentions, they had best "grin and bear them." On the fourth morning after the friendly chief's departure, the old Caffre who had been told off to attend on the prisoners and bring them their daily food, informed Frank Jamieson that he and his companion in misfortune were to be taken under escort to one of the principal Caffre strongholds beyond the Bashee River, and there to become the slaves of Untsikana's father--a chief of no small importance.

"Never more shall you see your people," said the old fellow with a malicious grin; for, true to the instincts of his savage nature, he felt a cruel pleasure in attempting to strike terror into the hearts of his prisoners. "Our brave and invincible warriors have eaten up the `red soldiers' of the island-queen, and are now sweeping before them the hated white men. Not one shall be left alive in this land except you and this boy, and you will end your days in slavery!"

"What does the old rascal say?" asked Tom, to whom the Caffre tongue was quite unintelligible. "Something unpleasant, I'll wager a dollar; he looks so precious satisfied with himself. Ugh, you hoary-headed, hardhearted old sinner!" he added, as the man left the hut.

"He says that Colonel Somerset's troops have been totally defeated, and that the Caffre warriors are driving our countrymen into the sea," Frank replied with a slight smile.

"Oh, hang it all! You must tell that to the marines!" exclaimed Tom; though at the same time a feeling of uneasiness came over him lest there should be a spice of truth in their jailer's report. "I don't believe a word of it! It cannot possibly be true, you know."

"And you and I are destined for transportation beyond the Bashee River, where we shall become the bondmen of the great chief Umbodhla--my friend's father," continued Frank. "A bright look-out, truly!"

"Very," ejaculated Tom. "But the beggars haven't got us there yet, and if we get the chance of giving them the slip, why--"

"We'll do so," interrupted Frank. "But, my dear fellow, if we wish to succeed in making our escape we must keep quiet and submit to any affront they may put upon us. Our chief endeavour must be to throw them off their guard, and thus lead them to imagine that we are both thoroughly cowed. Now, do you remember this, Tom! for our success depends upon it. Don't you show your teeth, old chap--unless you have a good chance of using them."

"I understand," growled Tom. "A nod is as good as a wink to a blind horse!"

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