A week later the jails in the town were emptied, and the prisoners taken to the race-course. Some rough wooden huts had been erected for the men, and the officers were to use the grand-stand. "At least we shall have a good view from the top," one of the officers laughed. "We shall see our fellows coming a long way off, and the bombardment of the forts, which will, I expect, be the first thing done. I hope that if the Boers fight they will make their last stand well away from the town. It would be maddening if there were to be a battle going on before our eyes and we not able to help."
The strictness of the watch was in no way relaxed. Men constantly paraded the enclosure, which was formed of strong palisades. Others kept watch outside, where several ranges of barbed wire, to which empty tins were attached in such a way as to make a clatter at the slightest motion, seemed to render it impossible to get out without giving the alarm, even if the palisade were scaled. The time passed heavily, in spite of the efforts of the officers to amuse themselves. With make-shift stumps, bats, and balls they played cricket,[Pg 228] and the men in their part of the grounds did the same. They ran races, had high and wide jumps, played rounders, and did their best to keep up their spirits, but it was heavy work. The subject of the war was avoided as much as possible. It was maddening to know that fierce battles might be going on while they had lost all opportunity of sharing in them, and that when their friends, on their return, asked what share they had taken in the fighting, they could only reply that they were captured in one of the first fights and had seen nothing of the war afterwards.
Ten days after they had been moved, one of the guards, as he sauntered past Yorke, coughed, not in a natural way, but as if to call his attention. Yorke looked round with apparent carelessness, as other guards might have their eye upon him. The man passed on without looking at him, but Yorke had difficulty in restraining a shout of delight when he recognized Hans. At first he could scarcely believe his eyes, but as the man lounged away, he recognized the figure beyond the shadow of doubt. He sat down upon the ground, took out his pipe and filled it, and when Hans again came past he asked him for a light.
"Where is your room, Master Yorke?" Hans asked, as he fumbled in his pocket.
"It is at the other side of the house—the door nearest to the right-hand corner looking at it from here."
"I shall want time to think it out, Master Yorke. I only got taken on to-day. I will speak to you again to-morrow." So, striking a match and handing it to Yorke, Hans went away.
Yorke felt that great caution must be used in speaking to Hans for as a new hand he might be watched for a time to see that he did not communicate with the prisoners. He lay back on the ground, pulled his hat forward as if to shade his face, and tried to think things over. Even now he could scarcely believe it possible that Hans could have travelled all the way from the Modder to Pretoria. He knew[Pg 229] how warmly the faithful fellow was attached to him, but not for a moment, while thinking over every conceivable way of escape, had it occurred to him that Hans would have come to his relief. Hans was a slow thinker, and he should not have given him credit for his undertaking such an enterprise; and even now that he had succeeded in making the journey and in getting himself engaged as a guard, he felt sure that he could not have the slightest idea as to what his next step should be. Getting up after a time, he went back to the room where he and eight officers slept.
It had formerly been an office of some sort, and the outside door opened directly into it. Hitherto he had not examined the lock, for the palisade and the wire fences beyond it offered such impregnable obstacles, that the mere question of getting in and out of the room was of secondary importance. He now saw that there would be no great difficulty in shooting the bolt of the lock on the inside, but there were strong staples with a bar and padlock outside. These had evidently been put on only when it was decided to transform the grand-stand into a prison. His pocket-book had not been taken from him; it had a pencil attached, and he now wrote:
I was delighted to see you. Even with your help it will be very difficult for me to make an escape. Of course, nothing whatever can be done before you happen to be on night guard and be posted near my door. I can force the bolt of the lock inside. There is a padlock outside, and you will either require a file to cut through the staple, or a strong steel bar with which you could wrench it off; but the file would be the easier. With a short rope I could climb the palisade, but the difficulty is the barbed wire outside. I will think over what can best be done with that, and will let you know. Of course I shall want a disguise to put on if I escape; it must be a very dark night when we attempt it. I have no money; have you any?
[Pg 230]
Having torn out the leaf and folded it up small, he went out again, strolled down to the palisade, and looked through it at the wires with their pendent tins. "It would be an awful job to get over them even without the tins, but with them it seems altogether impossible to do it without noise," he thought to himself. "I am very much afraid Hans has made his journey in vain." He opened the little bit of paper and added:
I shall need a little bottle of oil so as to shoot the bolt without making a noise, and you will want one to help you to file through the staple.
Hans came on duty again at twelve o'clock. Yorke did not go near him for an hour, then he repeated the performance of the previous day, and as Hans held out his matchbox to him he slipped the tiny folded paper into his hand, and presently sauntered back to his companions and joined in a game of rounders.
That evening when they were locked in their rooms he told the others: "It must seem to you madness, but I have made up my mind to try and escape. I know that I may be shot in doing so, but I mean to try."
"But the thing is impossible, Harberton," one of them said. "It will simply be throwing away your life."
"I am perfectly aware that it is very dangerous, but I have made up my mind to risk it. Why I tell you is that I don't wish to do anything that would cause greater precautions to be taken, and so make it still harder for anyone else to escape."
"It could not be harder than it is," one of them said; "so if you can hit upon any plan of escape, by all means try it. You can speak Dutch well, and might get off. But if you could take us all out with you I would not try, for the betting against one's making one's way across the frontier unless speaking the language is at least a thousand to one.[Pg 231] They might not make any extraordinary fuss about one fellow getting off, but if eight of us were to do so they would scour the country everywhere and telegraph all over the place."
"I think it is, as you say, a piece of madness," another said. "Of course, if you are willing to try, we don't want to prevent you; but you may be assured that, even should you by a miracle succeed, none of us would care to take the chances of getting out of the country. Of course Mafeking is the nearest point, but there are Boers all round it. While I regard it as impossible that you should get out, I consider it would be still more impossible for any of us to make our way across the frontier if we escaped with you."
"Thank you!" Yorke said quietly. "Certainly I mean to try, but I did not wish you to regard me as a cad for going away and not giving you a chance to escape with me. If you had expressed your opinion that my escape, if effected, would in any way make things more unpleasant for the others, I should have given up my idea at once."
There was a murmur of approval among his hearers. "It is a very proper spirit, Harberton," the senior of the party said. "I know it has always been considered that a prisoner of war has a right to make his escape if he can, although such an escape may render the watch over the others more rigorous. Still, I think myself that it is a selfish and ungenerous action for any man to take, unless he is sure that others will not suffer for it. However, in the present case the watch is so close, and the obstacles to be overcome are so great, both in getting out and in making one's way across the country, that in no way could the escape of one officer add to the rigour of the imprisonment of the rest. Frankly, as far as I can see, bribery is the only possible means of escape, and unless you have a secret store, and that an abundant one, you can hardly hope to succeed with any of these fellows, for there is no question that they hate us bitterly."
"I am not thinking of that method. My resources at[Pg 232] present are represented by four shillings, which would not be sufficient, I think, to tempt any warder to give me his assistance. I am by no means sure that I shall get away, but if I do, it will be with the assistance of a friend in the town. I do not wish to say more, because after I am gone—that is, if I do go—questions may be asked, and it would be best that, instead of refusing to answer them, you should be able to say that you knew nothing of the manner in which I had escaped, nor who had assisted me."
Yorke again strolled down to the palisade and stood looking through it thoughtfully for some time. The fences outside were certainly as awkward obstacles as could be imagined. The posts were six feet high; the wires were about eight inches apart, and the barbs a little more than six inches. On each wire were hung three tin cans between each post. There were three lines of fencing. The lowest wire was four inches above the ground, differing from the others only in having no tins attached to it, there not being depth enough for them to hang. Suddenly the puzzled look on Yorke's face was succeeded by one of satisfaction.
"It is as good as done!" he exclaimed. "With a strong pair of nippers the bottom wire can be cut, and that will leave a sufficient space to crawl under. There will be about a foot clear between the ground and the next wire. After deducting an inch for the barb, there are still eleven inches, and lying perfectly flat one ought to be able to crawl under that, taking care to avoid the tins."
That day and the two days following Yorke did not go near Hans. One of the other guards might notice the latter talking two or three days in succession to the same prisoner. On the third day he again placed himself in his way and handed him a note.
Get a strong pair of wire-nippers. Let the rope be about eighteen feet long. There is nothing else I shall want to enable us to get away. If you can get another rifle and[Pg 233] ammunition, and hide them some little distance from the prison, all the better. I shall save some food—enough, I hope, to last for two or three days. You had better bring some in your pocket too. There will be no moon on Monday next, and if you are on guard that night near my door we had better try then. At eleven o'clock I shall be listening for the sound of your file. If I do not hear it by half-past eleven I shall suppose that you are posted somewhere else, but I shall listen three or four nights before, and every night after that, at the same hour. I shall not write again. It is better that we should not be noticed speaking to each other, so pay no attention to me unless you have something particular to say.
As he gave the paper to Hans, the latter slipped into his hand a small tin oil-can, one of those used for oiling sewing-machines and bicycles, and also a paper of tobacco. "If I am asked why I was speaking to you," Hans muttered, "I can say you asked me to buy you a quarter of a pound of tobacco."
It was well the precaution had been taken, for a minute later one of the other guards came up and asked roughly, "What did that man give you?"
Yorke assumed a look of surprise, put his hand in his pocket, and took out the little parcel.
"There it is," he said. "It is a quarter of a pound of tobacco. I asked him to get the best he could buy. I hope that he has done so, but I have not tried it."
He opened it carelessly, and the guard glanced at it, and then went away satisfied with the explanation.
"It is just as well," Yorke said to himself, "that I told Hans not to come near me again. Evidently that fellow had some sort of suspicion, and must have seen him speak to me before, for there is nothing unusual in the guard fetching us little things we want. There is certainly nothing suspicious about Hans' appearance. He has evidently[Pg 234] not washed his face for days, and looks as dirty as any of them."
The time passed as usual till three days before the date appointed. For four days Yorke had not seen Hans, who had been put on night guard. Each evening he had gone to the door at eleven, and listened for half an hour without hearing any sound. He had hidden away one of the table-knives. On the Monday evening he heard, to his delight, a low grating sound, and knocked gently three times to let Hans know that he heard him. In half an hour he heard the bar cautiously removed, and with his knife at once shot back the bolt and opened the door.
The night was pitch-dark, and after silently grasping his follower's hand, Yorke went on to his hands and knees, and began to crawl down the slope towards the palisade.
"Where are the sentries, Hans?" he asked, when they had nearly reached it.
"There is one at each corner of the stand, and one on each side."
"I meant outside the wires."
"There are six or eight of them, and they keep on marching round and round. When one of the field-cornets visited the sentries the other night, he found three asleep. So the orders were that no one should sit down or stand still, but keep on going round and round, keeping as nearly as they could the same distance apart. But I don't see how we are to get through the wires."
"I see my way as to that, Hans. Have you got the nippers?"
"Yes, Master Yorke, here they are."
"Now, don't say another word till we are outside, but just do as I tell you."
Hans was well content with the order, for he had several times surveyed the fencing, and could see no possibility of getting over without not only being torn by the barbs, but also giving the alarm. He had, however, not troubled him[Pg 235]self very much about it, having implicit confidence in Yorke. They came down upon the palisade about half-way between two corners.
"Give me the rope, Hans," the latter whispered. He cut it in half, and made a slip-knot at one end of each piece. Both had taken off their boots before starting.
"Now," Yorke went on, when the two pieces of rope were ready, "do you climb on to my shoulder and put these two loops round the top of one of the stakes. Let one hang down on this side, and the other outside. When you have fixed them, climb up and lower yourself by the rope to the ground. Be sure you do not make any noise. As soon as you are over, I will follow. You had better lie down as soon as you touch the ground."
As Hans was able to reach the top of the palisade from Yorke's shoulders, he could carry out the order without noise. Yorke himself then climbed up by the rope. He had rather doubted whether Hans would be able to accomplish this, as, though strong, he was unaccustomed to anything like athletic exercise. To Yorke, however, the matter was easy. When he reached the other side, he lay down.
"Lie quiet till I tell you, Hans."
The nearest fence was six feet from the palisade. Finding one of the posts, Yorke cut the lowest wire close to it. Then he cut it again some four feet away from the post, and carefully dragged the severed portions further along. He had thought that this would be the best plan, as, if he tried to coil the wire up, it might spring back again and strike one of the tins on the line above. These tins were for the most part hung half-way between posts, as the vibration there would be greatest.
When he had this done, he whispered to Hans: "There is room enough to crawl under the wire now, but you must lie perfectly flat, or you will be caug............