The Young Colonists: A Story of the Zulu and Boer Wars

  Produced by Nick Hodson of London, England

  The Young ColonistsA Story of the Zulu and Boer WarsBy G.A. HentyIllustrations by Simon H. VedderPublished by Blackie and Son Ltd, 50 Old Bailey, London EC.

  The Young Colonists, by G.A. Henty.

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  ________________________________________________________________________THE YOUNG COLONISTS, BY G.A. HENTY.

  PREFACE.

  As a rule the minor wars in which this country has been from time totime engaged, have been remarkable both for the admirable way in whichthey were conducted and for the success that attended them. The twocampaigns in South Africa, however, that followed each other with but abrief interval, were notable exceptions. In the Zulu War the blunder,made by the General in command, of dividing his army and marching awaywith the greater portion without troubling himself to keep upcommunication with the force left behind, brought about a seriousdisaster at Isandula. In the Boer War we also suffered two defeats,--one at Laing's Neck, the other at Majuba Hill,--and when at last aBritish force was assembled capable of retrieving these misfortunes, theEnglish government decided not to fight, but to leave the Boers inpossession of the Transvaal. This unfortunate surrender has, assuredly,brought about the troubled state of things now existing in South Africa.

  After having written upwards of fifty records of almost unbroken successto the British arms in almost all parts of the world, I have found itpainful to describe these two campaigns in which we suffered defeat. Itrust, however, that this story will prove of great interest to thereader because of the characteristic English pluck and daring of itshero.

  G.A. Henty.

  CHAPTER ONE.

  A SNOW-DRIFT.

  The country round Castleton, in Derbyshire, is greatly admired by summertourists, for it lies in the wildest part of that county; but in winterthe wind whistles sharply over the bleak hills--where there are no treesto break its violence,--the sheep huddle under the shelter of theroughly-built stone walls, and even lovers of the picturesque would atthat season prefer a more level and wooded country. The farm of MrHumphreys was situated about a mile from Castleton. It consisted of 100acres or so of good land in the bottom, and of five or six times as muchupland grazing on the hills. Mr Humphreys owned as well as farmed hisland, and so might have claimed, had he chosen, the title ofgentleman-farmer; but he himself would have scoffed at such an idea. Hewas a hard-working, practical farmer, about over his ground from morningto night, save when the hounds met within easy distance in winter; thenhe would mount "Robin," who served alike as hunter, or hack, or to drivein the neat dog-cart to Buxton market; and, although there were manyhandsomer horses in the field, Mr Humphreys was seldom far off when thefox was killed.

  His family consisted of his wife and two sons, the eldest, Richard, wasabout fourteen years old. His brother, John, was three years younger.Both went to school at Castleton. The younger boy was fond of hisbooks; he had always been weak and delicate, and, being unable to spendhis time in active exercise out of doors, he was generally to be foundreading by the fire in winter, or lying on the ground in summer under atree in the orchard, with his chin on his hand, and the book before him.Richard had no literary taste; he managed to scrape through his workand keep a moderate place in his class, somewhere about half-way down;but he threw his whole heart into outdoor exercise, and was one of thebest bats in the school, although there were many there older by years.He knew every foot of the hills, could tell every bird by its note, andknew all about their nests and eggs. Except in school, or perhapsduring the long winter evenings, it was rare indeed to find Dick with abook in his hand.

  "You will never set the Thames on fire, Dick," his father would say tohim.

  "I shall never want to, father," he would reply. "I do not see thatlearning will ever be much good to me."

  "That is a foolish idea, Dick. A great deal of the learning that boysget at school is of no actual value in pounds, shillings, and pence. Itis not the fact of knowing Latin, and Greek, and mathematics whichbenefits a man; but it is the learning of them. It is the discipline tothe mind, which is of benefit. The mind is like the body. There is nouse in cricket, or in boating, or in hunting, but these thingsstrengthen the body and make it active and healthy, and able to dobetter everything which it undertakes, and it is exactly the same thingwith the mind; besides, the days are coming when farmers must farm theirland with science and intelligence, or they will be left behind in therace. We are being rivalled by the farmers of America. Not only do wehave to pay rent, but by the tithes and rates and taxes they put upon usgovernment makes the English farmer pay a heavy tax upon every bushel ofcorn he produces, while they allow the American corn to come into themarket tax-free. This may be all right, but it does not appear fair tome. However, there it is, and we have got to meet it, and if we are tokeep our heads above water, it can only be by farming up to the verybest lights of the day."

  "Well, father," Dick said, "then it seems to me that when we grow up,John and I must farm together. He shall be the scientific partner; Iwill do the work."

  "That is all right enough, Dick, but you must have some science too,else you and he will never get on. You would want to go on in theold-fashioned groove, and would call his ideas newfangled. No, I intendyou, when you get old enough, to go to Cirencester College, where youwill learn the theory and science of farming thoroughly. You will getthe practical part at home. As to John, he is a child yet, and, Itrust, will grow up strong and active; but if his tastes remain as theynow are, I do not think it likely he will take to farming, and we mustfind some other career for him."

  One afternoon in the beginning of December two of Dick's school-fellowssaid to him--

  "We are going over the hills to our uncle's farm, Dick. Will you gowith us?"

  When there was nothing better to do, Dick was always ready for a walk,and he at once agreed to accompany the Jacksons. The elder boy wasabout his own age, the younger two years his junior.

  The Jacksons called for him directly he had finished his dinner, andthey started away together for a farm which was about four milesdistant. They struck right across the hills, as it would have been twomiles longer by the nearest road.

  "I should not be surprised," Dick said, "if it were to snow to-night; itis bitterly cold, and the clouds look very heavy."

  "I hope it won't snow until we get back," James, the younger of thebrothers, remarked.

  "I don't know," Dick answered, looking at the clouds. "I should not besurprised if it began at any moment."

  The wind was blowing strongly. The hills were high and steep, and,although the boys made their best speed, it was considerably over anhour before they reached the farm. They had started at two, and it wasnow a quarter past three. Mr Jackson was out. The boys delivered themessage with which they had been charged to their aunt.

  "Now," she said, "I will cut you each a hunch of cake, and when you haveeaten that and had a glass of fresh milk you had best start at once. Itis bitterly cold, and we are going to have snow: The sooner you arehome, the better."

  The boys now ate their cake. Mrs Jackson came to the door with them.Then she said, as the first flake of snow fell--

  "I am not sure, boys, that you had not better stay here all night."

  The boys laughed.

  "Why, what would they say at home? They would just be in a way aboutus."

  "Well, at any rate, you had better go by the road."

  "Oh, that is two miles farther at least. We should not get home untillong after dark. We shan't be an hour
by the hills. We know every footof the way."

  "Well, good-bye, then. Make as much haste as you can."

  For half a mile their way led along the road, then they scrambled over awall and began to ascend the barren hill-side. The snow was fallingfast now. Thicker and thicker it came down, and when, hot and panting,they reached the top of the hill, the wind blew the flakes so fiercelyinto their faces that they were half-blinded, and were obliged to turntheir backs to the gale while they got breath. For half an hour theystruggled on. They could scarcely see ten paces before them through thedriving snow, and in every sheltered spot white patches rapidly began toform.

  "How different things look in a snow-storm!" Dick said, as they stoppedfor breath and shelter under the lee of a wall. "I don't know, Tom, butI am not quite sure that we are going straight; I do not know what wallthis is."

  "No more