away the stump of his old cigar, Mr Hunter carefully selected another, and having lit it and gulped down a few mouthfuls of lemon-squash, he placed his feet on the rail of the verandah, leant back in his comfortable chair, and proceeded with his narrative.
“Wilfred knows all about it, of course,” he commenced, “but I dare say you’ll be surprised to hear, Jack, that I was once a soldier of the Queen. That is to say, I was a gunner with my battery in Africa when the Boer troubles first began. I look comfortable and fat enough now, I think you’ll agree, and I’m doing as well in the world as I could wish; but the fact remains that I was once a soldier. I had been a reckless and restless lad at home in England, and rather than settle down in trade as a grocer’s assistant, I donned the queen’s uniform. And let me tell you, my boys, the army is by far the best place for all such youngsters as I was. It’s a kind of big school where those who like can climb up the rungs of the ladder, and find themselves, when they go back to civil life, in far better positions than they might otherwise have occupied. It does not matter who or what you were before you ’listed; it’s each for himself, and it is the smart, sober lad, who is respectful and knows his work, who gets promotion to the non-commissioned rank.
“But I’m talking of the Boer War. Well, my battery of six guns was sent up into Natal, with about 870 men, mostly of the 58th Regiment and the 60th Rifles, with a few of the 2nd Scots Fusiliers and a Naval Brigade, all under Sir George Pomeroy Colley. We joined hands at Newcastle, some thirty miles south of Laing’s Nek, and marched up there on January 26th, forming camp at Mount Prospect, three miles from the slopes of the Drakenberg range, where the Boers were known to be in force.
“Now I am not going to tell you every incident of the engagements we fought. The memory of three successive defeats is too painful, but to make matters clear to you I will just mention each in turn.
“Laing’s Nek was the first, and on that fatal day we marched out of camp and up the rugged and zigzag road which leads to the pass of that name. On either side of us some 1500 Boers were posted, and we attacked those on the right. Our gallant boys of the 60th Rifles and the 58th Regiment marched directly against them, whilst we with the guns and the ‘tars’ with their rockets were posted in the rear. It was a one-sided conflict. We had only stones to fire at, while our poor lads, many of them, like myself, mere youngsters, were out in the open, without cover of any kind, and wearing white helmets, which were simply a series of bull’s-eyes for the enemy.
“I shall never forget that morning. The sun came up over the mountain peaks, making them look like golden pinnacles. Then, passing down the green elopes of the hills, it lit up the valley, with its dusty road, and its little farmhouse nestling on the left at the foot of the steep incline. And there, moving across the grass in regular order, and with the rays flashing from their helmets and rifle-barrels, were our brave fellows, many of them marching to their death.
“Well, well, such things must be, I suppose! England has not done all the glorious acts for which she is famous without a deal of suffering and much loss of life.
“When our troops started up the slopes a perfect hail of lead was poured into their ranks, and every bullet, mind you, was directed by an unseen hand, and by a hand which, backed up by a steady eye, never failed, even from the back of a galloping horse, to bring down the swiftest deer that ever ran.
“But though many of our gallant lads fell, the remainder reached a ridge, fixed bayonets, and prepared to charge. They were met by a murderous fire, which almost decimated them, and the same fate befell a squadron of the 1st Dragoon Guards, who charged the enemy’s flank.
“The Boers pressed forward immediately, and we were forced to retire.
“That was the end of that engagement. We sent in a flag of truce in order that we might gather our wounded, who were unmolested by the Boers, save in one instance, when a cowardly ruffian was caught in the act of shooting a helpless soldier, and was promptly bayoneted by one of the injured man’s comrades.
“We were now in a pretty tight hole. Surrounded on all sides by the Boers, our supplies were cut off completely. But on February 8th we moved out of camp back towards Newcastle, from which town a convoy was to set out to join us. It never started, but we were ignorant of that, and, pushing forward, crossed the Ingogo River, which runs transversely across that portion of Natal. The guns remained on the other side, and were at once at it hammer and tongs, throwing shrapnel at the Boers, who were strongly posted opposite to us.
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