Ballads of the War | ||
In a Camp Hospital, Elands-Laagte
Commandeered for the fight;
They tried on me their Kaffir tricks,
They rained their curses, blows and kicks,
And swore to shoot outright.
That blood ran never thin.
I cried, “My brains may scattered be,
But Paul shall get no help from me
Against my kith and kin.”
The cowards, ten to one,
They bound me—I was forced to yield—
They drove me to the battle-field,
They lashed me to a gun.
The Lancers charged—I knelt
And prayed beside that limber's wheel;
May neither Boer nor Briton feel
What agonies I felt!
On, on the Lancers came.
“My God, have mercy, Thou art just!”
Then something smote me to the dust:—
The Lancers passed like flame.
I woke from swoon and night,
I found myself in doctor's hands,
Head broke—arms swoll'n and black from bands
They bound who bade me fight.
They cried, “Who did this deed?”
“Some black-heart rogue,” I answered—“Schiel.”
They muttered, “God made man! the De'il
Alone could sire such breed!”
God heard my prayer that day:—
And wounded sore—the wretch who tied
My arms to the limber—lay.
My tongue I had forgot;
But like a Highland torrent strong,
The Gaelic came to curse the wrong
Done to a loyal Scot.
Still hot it leaps within
At memory of those words we spake
In wrath at him who strove to make
Me fight my kith and kin.
Note.—An officer now in England, who was badly hurt at Elands-Laagte, tells a strange story. When charging the position a Lancer struck at an object, apparently a man, hiding behind a gun-limber, and then passed on to bestow his attentions elsewhere. Subsequently the object was found to be indeed a man, a man borne upon the Boer strength, and not only a man, but a Scotchman. His skull had been cracked by the Lancer, but he still remained at his post by the limber, though unconscious of all that was taking place around him, for it was discovered that his wrists had been tied behind him with stout cord, and his arms had similarly been tightly secured to the limber. In due time, the officer who tells this story and the Scot who had been so maltreated found themselves in a hospital ward together. Another person in that ward was “Colonel” Schiel, who lay wounded and a prisoner, the Scot and the
Ballads of the War | ||