Frederick Brereton - With Rifle and Bayonet - A Story of the Boer War

Jack slowly ran his eyes round the ward, noted that most of the other beds had occupants, and that the three nurses looked decidedly pretty in their white caps and aprons. And all the while he wondered mildly what it all meant, why he was there, and what sort of a place it was. Then, like others who have been seriously ill for a considerable time and are almost too weak to move a hand, he closed his eyes again and fell into a deep sleep.

When he awoke he lay quite still, with closed eyelids, listening to voices near his bedside.

“He’ll do well now, Nurse,” he heard someone say, “and I am glad to be able to tell you that the worst is over. It was a difficult job to get the thigh in satisfactory position, and nicely put upon the splint. But it’s done, and done well, I think I may say. Your young friend will make steady progress now, sir,” the voice continued, “and from what I have learnt I am sure you will be very pleased to hear it. Good-day! I must be going now, as I have several other patients to look to.”

“Good-day!” was repeated heartily by someone else, and then the owner of the first voice moved away.

“I am delighted to hear the doctor’s report,” somebody else exclaimed, in tones which were unmistakably those of Dr Hanly. “He has met with a very nasty accident, and it takes quite a load from my mind to hear he is doing well. By all accounts he must have increased the severity of the injury by sticking to that fellow as he did. He’s a plucky lad.”

“Plucky, my dear sir! I should think so indeed!” answered a third voice. “Why, I owe a lot to your young ward. There was really no call for him to come to our help; but he did so without hesitation, with the result that he got badly smashed, while Wilfred and I were merely a little bruised and knocked about.”

“I’m glad to hear you say so, Mr Hunter,” was the doctor’s reply. “It is just like the lad to get into a mess in an attempt to help others who were in a tight corner. But we had better be moving away, I think, or we may disturb him.”

“Don’t go, Doctor,” Jack feebly murmured at this moment, opening his eyes and looking up at his friend. “Tell me how I came to be here, and all about it. It’s awfully rummy! I cannot understand why I should be lying in bed, when only a minute ago I was well and strong and walking along the Embankment.”

“Why, good gracious me! that was a week ago, Jack! This is a hospital in London, and you are in bed because your thigh is broken. But you must get to sleep. Mr Hunter and I will come again to-morrow.”

Jack obediently closed his eyes, wondered in a dreamy kind of way who Mr Hunter might be, and who was the plucky lad he had been talking about, and promptly fell asleep.

When he became conscious again a nurse was bending over him, and, feeling stronger and more lively, he was propped up in bed as far as his splint would allow, and given a cup of tea. From that day he rapidly improved. The pain, which had been severe at first after he had recovered consciousness, had now entirely gone, and about three weeks after his accident his bed was lifted on to a long wheeled chair, and he was able to get about the ward and chat with the other patients.

Almost daily Mr Hunter and his son Wilfred came to see Jack, and very soon the two lads, who were within a few days of the same age, had become fast friends.

“By Jove!” Wilfred exclaimed one day as he was sitting by Jack’s side, “it was touch and go for us when those four blackguards attacked us, and you were a perfect brick to come up in time to lend us a helping hand.”

“Oh, humbug! What else could I have done?” answered Jack. “I heard your whistle and shouts, and guessed there was a row on. I couldn’t stand still, could I? so of course I came along to see what was up. Then, when I found it was an uneven fight, I tacked myself on to the side which wanted me most.”

“It’s all very well your talking like that, Jack, but you know as well as I do that you might just as well have run in the opposite direction, especially when you saw what brutes the men were who were attacking us. But we’ll say no more about it just now. I’ll get even with you though, old chap, if I can manage it, one of these fine days.”

“Then that’s agreed,” answered Jack; “but before you drop the subject, tell me what the row was really about. I suppose those fellows were after your money!”

“Money! Yes, but in a different form from that in which you usually see it. You know, Father runs a big store out in Johannesburg, and deals in everything. You can get anything, from a bag of peas or a tin tack to Kimberley diamonds of the first water, from his shop, and it’s the last that those ruffians were after. But here is Father. Ask him, and he will tell you all about it.”

“Well, Jack, getting along nicely, are you?” exclaimed the latter heartily. “And you want to know how it was we were attacked by those ruffians? It’s very simple. I have come over from South Africa for a holiday, and to see the old home. My wife and Wilfred came too, and during our stay here I have managed to combine business and pleasure. I brought over some diamonds, and on the day you came so opportunely to our aid I had been to a stone merchant in the city, and was returning with all those he had not bought from me; I should say some fifteen thousand pounds’ worth. It would have been a good haul if they had managed to get away with the bag. No doubt they knew all about me, and had tracked me all the way from the hotel. But they made a little mistake. You see in my younger days I had to rough it pretty well, and of recent years, while living in the Transvaal, life has not been altogether smooth. Every Boer’s hand there is against the Englishman, Uitlanders as they call us, and so one has to be particularly wary.

“Immediately I caught sight of those rascals I guessed their game, but I can tell you, my lad, it would have been all U P if it hadn’t been for you and the whistle. Well, we came out of it pretty comfortably, save for your fractured thigh, and as soon as you are fit to go out those fellows will be tried and, I trust, will get heavily sentenced.

“By the way, my boy, have you thought about the future? You know it will be at least three months before that leg of yours is really strong again; at least that is what the surgeon says.”

“No, I haven’t given it a thought, Mr Hunter. I suppose I shall go home to the Grange for a month or so, and then return to the crammer’s. Not that that would be much good, for I cannot possibly go up for the next exam. I haven’t done nearly enough reading, and should certainly get ploughed if I attempted it.”

“Why not come out to Africa with us?” said Mr Hunter earnestly. “We go as soon as those ruffians are tried, and we should be good companions on the way. Besides, it would be a splendid ‘pick-me-up’ for you; you would get the air on the voyage, and still be able to keep your leg in splints, or whatever is found necessary.”

“Mr Hunter, it’s awfully kind of you, and I should enjoy it immensely!” Jack suddenly blurted out, and then stopped abruptly as the thought of the expense entailed flashed across his mind.

“Then it’s settled,” exclaimed Mr Hunter. “I thought you’d jump at the idea. I’ve spoken to Dr Hanly about it, and he and your mother are quite willing for you to go. It will be the best thing you could possibly do under the circumstances, and besides, you may find that the experience will be of real service to you later on; for if you join the army it is more than probable that you will find yourself out in Africa with your regiment before many years are gone. I expect we shall sail in about a month’s time. It will be another four weeks before we reach Johnny’s Burg, as we call it, and then you can stay with us just as long as you please.”