[Illustration: _Photo by Arthur Weston, 16, Poultry, London. _]

IN THE RANKS OF THE C. I. V. 

A NARRATIVE AND DIARY OF PERSONAL EXPERIENCES WITH THE C. I. V. BATTERY(HONOURABLE ARTILLERY COMPANY) IN SOUTH AFRICA

BY DRIVERERSKINE CHILDERSCLERK IN THE HOUSE OF COMMONS

_WITH A FRONTISPIECE_

1900

DEDICATEDTOMY FRIEND AND COMRADEGUNNER BASIL WILLIAMS

CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER

 I. THE "MONTFORT"

 II. CAPETOWN AND STELLENBOSCH

 III. PIQUETBERG ROAD

 IV. BLOEMFONTEIN

 V. LINDLEY

 VI. BETHLEHEM

 VII. BULTFONTEIN

VIII. SLABBERT'S NEK AND FOURIESBERG

 IX. TO PRETORIA

 X. WARMBAD

 XI. HOSPITAL

 XII. A DETAIL

XIII. SOUTH AGAIN

 XIV. CONCLUSION

IN THE RANKS OF THE C. I. V. 

CHAPTER I. 

THE "MONTFORT. "

A wintry ride--Retrospect--Embarkation--A typical day--"Stables" inrough weather--Las Palmas--The tropics--Inoculation--Journalism--Fashions--"Intelligent anticipation"--Stable-guard--Arrival. 

With some who left for the War it was "roses, roses, all the way. " Forus, the scene was the square of St. John's Wood Barracks at 2 A. M. Onthe 3rd of February, a stormy winter's morning, with three inches ofsnow on the ground, and driving gusts of melting flakes lashing ourfaces. In utter silence the long lines of horses and cloaked ridersfiled out through the dimly-lit gateway and into the empty streets, and we were off at last on this long, strange journey to distantAfrica. Six crowded weeks were behind us since the disastrous one ofColenso, and with it the news of the formation of the C. I. V. , and theincorporation in that regiment of a battery to be supplied by theHonourable Artillery Company, with four quick-firing Vickers-Maximguns. Then came the hurried run over from Ireland, the application forservice, as a driver, the week of suspense, the joy of success, thebrilliant scene of enlistment before the Lord Mayor, and the abruptchange one raw January morning from the ease and freedom of civilianlife, to the rigours and serfdom of a soldier's. There followed amonth of constant hard work, riding-drill, gun-drill, stable work, andevery sort of manual labour, until the last details of themobilization were complete, uniforms and kit received, the guns packedand despatched; and all that remained was to ride our horses to theAlbert Docks; for our ship, the _Montfort_, was to sail at mid-day. 

Hardships had begun in earnest, for we had thirteen miles to ride inthe falling snow, and our hands and feet were frozen. As we filedthrough the silent streets, an occasional knot of night-birds gave usa thin cheer, and once a policeman rushed at me, and wrung my hand, with a fervent "Safe home again!" Whitechapel was reached soon enough, but the Commercial Road, and the line of docks, seemed infinite. 

However, at six we had reached the ship, and lined up into a greatshed, where we took off and gave up saddles and head-collars, put oncanvas head-stalls, and then enjoyed an excellent breakfast, providedby some unknown benefactor. Next we embarked the horses by mattedgangways (it took six men to heave my roan on board), and ranged themdown below in their narrow stalls on the stable-deck. Thence wecrowded still further down to the troop-deck--one large low-roofedroom, edged with rows of mess-tables. My entire personal accommodationwas a single iron hook in a beam. This was my wardrobe, chest ofdrawers, and an integral part of my bed; for from it swung thehammock. We were packed almost as thickly as the horses; and that issaying a great deal. The morning was spent in fatigue duties of allsorts, from which we snatched furtive moments with our friends on thecrowded quay. For hours a stream of horses and mules poured up thegangways; for two other corps were to share the ship with us, theOxfordshire Yeomanry and the Irish Hospital. At two the last farewellshad been said, and we narrowed our thoughts once more to all theminutiæ of routine. As it turned out, we missed that tide, and did notstart till two in the next morning; but I was oblivious of such adetail, having been made one of the two "stablemen" of mysub-division, a post which was to last for a week, and kept me inconstant attendance on the horses down below; so that I might just aswell have been in a very stuffy stable on shore, for all I saw of therun down Channel. My duty was to draw forage from the forward hold (agloomy, giddy operation), be responsible with my mate for the wateringof all the horses in my sub-division--thirty in number, for preparingtheir feeds and "haying up" three times a day, and for keeping oursection of the stable-deck swept and clean. We started with very fineweather, and soon fell into our new life, with, for me at least, astrange absence of any sense of transition. The sea-life joinednaturally on to the barrack-life. Both are a constant round ofengrossing duties, in which one has no time to feel new departures. The transition had come earlier, with the first day in barracks, and, indeed, was as great and sudden a change, mentally and physically, asone could possibly conceive. On the material side it was sharp enough;but the mental change was stranger still. There was no perspectiveleft; no planning of the future, no questioning of the present; noneof that free play of mind and will with which we order our lives athome; instead, utter abandonment to superior wills, one's only concernthe present point of time and the moment's duty, whatever it might be. 

This is how we spent the day. 

The trumpet blew reveillé at six, and called us to early "stables, "when the horses were fed and watered, and forage drawn. Breakfast wasat seven: the food rough, but generally good. We were split up intomesses of about fourteen, each of which elected two "mess orderlies, "who drew the rations, washed up, swept the troop-deck, and wereexcused all other duties. I, and my friend Gunner Basil Williams, acolleague in my office at home, were together in the same mess. Coffee, bread and butter, and something of a dubious, hashy nature, were generally the fare at breakfast. I, as stableman, was constantlywith the horses, but for the rest the next event was morning stables, about nine o'clock, which was a long and tedious business. The horseswould be taken out of their stalls, and half of us would lead themround the stable-deck for exercise, while the rest took out thepartitions and cleaned the stalls. Then ensued exciting scenes ingetting them back again, an operation that most would not agree towithout violent compulsion--and small blame to the poor brutes. Itused to take our whole sub-division to shove my roan in. Each driverhas two horses. My dun was a peaceful beast, but the roan was aby-word in the sub-division. When all was finished, and the horses fedand watered, it would be near 12. 30, which was the dinner-hour. Someafternoons were free, but generally there would be more exercising andstall-cleaning, followed by the afternoon feeds and watering. At sixcame tea, and then all hands, including us stablemen, were free. 

Hammocks were slung about seven, and it was one of the nightlyproblems to secure a place. I generally found under the hatchway, where it was airy, but in rainy weather moist. Then we were free totalk and smoke on deck till any hour. Before going to bed, I used towrite my diary, down below, at a mess-table, where the lights shot dimrays through vistas of serried hammocks, while overhead the horsesfidgeted and trampled in their stalls, making a distracting thunder onthe iron decks. It was often writing under difficulties, crouchingdown with a hammock pressing on the top of one's head--the occupantprotesting at the head with no excess of civility; a quality which, bythe way, was very rare with us. 

Soon after leaving the Bay, we had some rough weather. "Stables" usedto be a comical function. My diary for the first rough daysays:--"About six of us were there out of about thirty in mysub-division; our sergeant, usually an awesome personage to me, helpless as a babe, and white as a corpse, standing rigid. Thelieutenant feebly told me to report when all horses were watered andfeeds made up. It was a long job, and at the end I found him leaninglimply against a stall. 'Horses all watered, and feeds ready, sir. ' Heturned on me a glazed eye, which saw nothing; then a glimmer ofrecollection flickered, and the lips framed the word 'feed, ' no doubtthrough habit; but to pronounce that word at all under thecircumstances was an effort of heroism for which I respected him. Rather a lonely day. My co-stableman curled in a pathetic ball allday, among the hay, in our forage recess. My only view of the outerworld is from a big port in this recess, which frames a square ofheaving blue sea; but now and then one can get breathing-spaces ondeck. In the afternoon--the ship rolling heavily--I went, by an orderof the day before, to be vaccinated. Found the doctor on the saloondeck, in a long chair, very still. Thought he was dead, but saluted, and said what I had come for. With marvellous presence of mind, hecollected himself, and said: 'I ordered six to come; it is waste oflymph to do one only: get the other five. ' After a short absence, Iwas back, reporting the other five not in a condition to do anything, even to be vaccinated. The ghost of a weary smile lit up the wan face. I saluted and left. "

Our busy days passed quickly, and on the ninth of the month a lovely, still blue day, I ran up to look at the Grand Canary in sight on thestarboard bow, and far to the westward the Peak of Teneriffe, itssnowy cone flushed pink in the morning sun, above a bank of cloud. Allwas blotted out in two hours of stable squalors, but at midday we wereanchored off Las Palmas (white houses backed by arid hills), theill-fated _Denton Grange_ lying stranded on the rocks, coal bargesalongside, donkey engines chattering on deck, and a swarm of bum-boatsround our sides, filled with tempting heaps of fruit, cigars, andtobacco. Baskets were slung up on deck, and they drove a roaringtrade. A little vague news filtered down to the troop-deck; Ladysmithunrelieved, but Buller across the Tugela, and some foggy rumour about120, 000 more men being wanted. The Battery also received a four-footedrecruit in the shape of a little grey monkey, the gift of theOxfordshire Yeomanry. He was at once invested with the rank ofBombardier, and followed all our fortunes in camp and march and actiontill our return home. That day was a pleasant break in the monotony, and also signalized my release from the office of stableman. We wereoff again at six; an exquisite night it was, a big moon in the zenith, the evening star burning steadily over the dim, receding island. Wefinished with a sing-song on deck, a crooning, desultory performance, with sleepy choruses, and a homely beer-bottle passing from mouth tomouth. 

Then came the tropics and the heat, and the steamy doldrums, when thestable-deck was an "Inferno, " and exercising the horses like atread-mill in a Turkish bath, and stall-cleaning an unspeakablebusiness. Yet the hard work kept us in fit condition, and gave zest tothe intervals of rest. 

At this time many of us used to sling our hammocks on deck, for downin the teeming troop-deck it was suffocating. It was delicious to liein the cool night air, with only the stars above, and your feet almostoverhanging the heaving sea, where it rustled away from the vessel'ssides. At dawn you would see through sleepy eyes an exquisite sky, colouring for sunrise, and just at reveillé the golden rim would riseout of a still sea swimming and shimmering in pink and opal. 

Here is the diary of a Sunday:--

"_February 11. _--Reveillé at six. Delicious bathe in the sail-bath. Church parade at ten; great cleaning and brushing up for it. Shortservice, read by the Major, and two hymns. Then a long lazy lie ondeck with Williams, learning Dutch from a distracting grammar by apompous old pedant. Pronunciation maddening, and the explanations madeit worse. Long afternoon, too, doing the same. No exercising; justwater, feed, and a little grooming at 4. 30, then work over for theday. Kept the ship lively combing my roan's mane; thought he wouldjump into the engine-room. By the way, yesterday, when waiting for hishay coming down the line, his impatience caused him to jump half overthe breast-bar, bursting one head rope; an extraordinary feat in viewof the narrowness and lowness of his stall. He hung in a nastyposition for a minute, and then we got him to struggle back. Anotherhorse died in the night, and another very sick. 

"Inoculation for enteric began to-day with a dozen fellows. Resultsrather alarming, as they all are collapsed already in hammocks, andone fainted on deck. It certainly is no trifle, and I shall watchtheir progress carefully. I can't be done myself for some days, as Iwas vaccinated two days ago (after the first unsuccessful attempt), incompany with Williams. We went to the doctor's cabin on the upperdeck, and afterwards sat on the deck in the sun to let our arms dry. After some consultation we decided to light a furtive cigarette, butwere ignominiously caught by the doctor and rebuked. 'Back at schoolagain, ' I thought; 'caught smoking!' It seemed very funny, and we hada good laugh at it. 

"It is a gorgeous, tropical night, not a cloud or feather of one; abig moon, and dead-calm sea; just a slight, even roll; we have satover pipes after tea, chatting of old days, and present things, andthe mysterious future, sitting right aft on the poop, with the moonlitwake creaming astern. "

Inoculation was general, and I was turned off one morning with ajoyous band of comrades, retired to hammocks, and awaited the worstwith firmness. It was nothing more than a splitting headache andshivering for about an hour, during which time I wished Kruger, Roberts, and the war at the bottom of the sea. A painful stiffnessthen ensued, and that was all. My only grievance was that two dyinghorses were brought up and tied just below me, and dosed--luckybeasts--with champagne by their officer-owners! Also we had the hoseturned on us by some sailors, who were washing the boat-bridge above, and jeered at our impotent remonstrances. In two days we were fit forduty, and took our turn in ministering to other sufferers. 

We were a merry ship, for the men of our three corps got on capitallytogether, and concerts and amusements were frequent. They were held_al fresco_ on the forward deck, with the hammocks of inoculatesswinging above and around, so that these unfortunates, some of whomwere pretty bad, had to take this strange musical medicine whetherthey liked it or no, and the mouth-organ band which attended on theseoccasions was by no means calculated to act as an opiate. Of course wehad sports, both aquatic and athletic, and on the 18th Williams and Iconceived the idea of publishing a newspaper; and without delay wrote, and posted up, an extravagant prospectus of the same. Helpers came, and ideas were plentiful. A most prolific poet knocked off poems"while you wait, " and we soon had plenty of "copy. " The difficulty layin printing our paper. All we could do was to make four copies inmanuscript, and that was labour enough. I am sure no paper ever wentto press under such distracting conditions. The editorial room was adonkey engine, and the last sheets were copied one night amongoverhanging hammocks, card-parties, supper-parties, and a brayingconcert by the Irish just overhead, by the light of an inch of candle. We pasted up two copies on deck, sent one bound copy to the officers, and the _Montfort Express_ was a great success. It was afterwardsprinted at Capetown. Here is an extract which will throw some light onour dress on board in the tropics:--

THE FEBRUARY FASHIONS. 

_By our Lady Correspondent. _

"DEAR MAUDE, "I don't often write to you about gentlemen's fashions, because, as arule, they are monstrously dull, but this season the stronger sex seemreally to be developing some originality. Here are a few notes takenon the troopship _Montfort_, where of course you know every one issmart. (_Tout ce qu'il y a de plus Montfort_ has become quite aproverb, dear. ) Generally speaking, piquancy and coolness are the mainfeatures. For instance, a neat costume for stables is a pair of strongboots. To make this rather more dressy for the dinner-table, a pair ofclose-fitting pants may be added, but this is optional. Shirts, ifworn, are neutral in tint; white ones are quite _démodé_. Vests arecut low in the neck and with merely a suggestion of sleeve. Trousers(I blush to write it, dear) are worn baggy at the knee and very variedin pattern and colour, according to the tastes and occupation of thewearer. Caps _à la convict_ are _de rigueur_. I believe this to springfrom a delicate sense of sympathy with the many members of thearistocracy now in prison. The same chivalrous instinct shows itselfin the fashion of close-cropped hair. 

"There is a great latitude for individual taste; one tall, handsomeman (known to his friends, I believe, under the sobriquet of 'Kipper')is always seen in a delicious confection of some gauzy pink and bluematerial, which enhances rather than conceals the Apollo-like grace ofhis lissome limbs. 

"At the Gymkhana the other day (a _very_ smart affair), I saw Mr. 'Pat' Duffy, looking charmingly fresh and cool in a suit of bluetattooing, which I hear was made for him in Japan by a native lady. 

"In Yeomanry circles, a single gold-rimmed eye-glass is excessively_chic_, and, by the way, in the same set a pleasant folly is to wear adifferent coat every day. 

"The saloon-deck is less interesting, because less variegated; buthere is a note or too. Caps are usually _cerise_, trimmed with blue_passementerie_. To be really smart, the moustache must be waxed andcurled upwards in corkscrew fashion. In the best Irish circles beardsare occasionally worn, but it requires much individual distinction tocarry off this daring innovation. And now, dear, I must say good-bye;but before I close my letter, here is a novel and piquant recipe for_Breakfast curry_: Catch some of yesterday's Irish stew, thoroughlydisinfect, and dye to a warm khaki colour. Smoke slowly for six hours, and serve to taste. 

"Your affectionate, "NESTA. "

 * * * * *

Here is Williams on the wings of prophecy:--

OUR ARRIVAL IN CAPETOWN. 

_(With Apologies to "Ouida. ")_

"It was sunset in Table Bay--Phoebus' last lingering rays wereempurpling the beetling crags of Table Mountain's snowy peak--thegreat ship _Montfort_, big with the hopes of an Empire (on which thesun never sets), was gliding majestically to her moorings. Countlesscraft, manned by lissome blacks or tawny Hottentots, instantly shotforth from the crowded quays, and surged in picturesque disorder roundthe great hull, scarred by the ordure of ten score pure Arab chargers. 'Who goes there?' cried the ever-watchful sentry on the ship, as heran out the ready-primed Vickers-Maxim from the port-hole. 'Speak, orI fire ten shots a minute. ' 'God save the Queen, ' was the readyresponse sent up from a thousand throats. 'Pass, friends, ' said thesentry, as he unhitched the port companion-ladder. In a twinkling thesnowy deck of the great transport was swarming with the dusky figuresof the native bearers, who swiftly transferred the cargo from thegroaning hold into the nimble bum-boats, and carried the large-limbedAnglo-Saxon heroes into luxurious barges, stuffed with cushions softenough to satisfy the most jaded voluptuary. At shore, a sight awaitedthem calculated to stir every instinct of patriotism in their noblebosoms. On a richly chased ebon throne sat the viceroy in person, cladin all the panoply of power. A delicate edge of starched white linen, a sight which had not met their eyes for many a weary week, peepedfrom beneath his gaudier accoutrements; the vice-regal diadem, blazingwith the recovered Kimberley diamond, encircled his brow, while hisfinely chiselled hand grasped the great sword of state. Around himwere gathered a dazzling bevy of all the wit and beauty of SouthAfrica; great chieftains from the fabled East, Zulus, Matabeles, Limpopos and Umslopogaas, clad in gorgeous scarlet feathers gavepiquancy to the proud throng. Most of England's wit and manhoodscintillated in the sunlight, while British matrons and England'sfairest maids lit up with looks of proud affection; bosoms heaved insympathetic unison with the measured tramp of the ammunition boots;bright eyes caught a sympathetic fire from the clanking spurs of thecorporal rough-rider, while the bombardier in command of the compositesquadron of artillery, horse-marines, and ambulance, could hardly pickhis way through the heaps of rose leaves scattered before him bylily-white hands. But the scene was quickly changed, as if byenchantment. At a touch of the button by the viceroy's youngest child, an urchin of three, thousands of Boer prisoners, heavily laden withchains, brought forward tables groaning with every conceivable dainty. The heroes set to with famished jaws, and after the coffee, eachnegligently lit up his priceless cigar with a bank-note, with thecareless and open-handed improvidence so charming and socharacteristic of their profession. But suddenly their ease was rudelybroken. A single drum-tap made known to all that the enemy was at thegates. In a moment the commander had thrown away three parts of hiscostly cigar, had sprung to his feet, and with the heart of a lion andthe voice of a dove, had shouted the magical battle-cry, 'Attention!'Then with a yell of stern resolve, and the answering cry of 'Standeasy, boys, ' the whole squadron, gunners and adjutants, ambulance andbombardiers, yeomen and gentlemen farmers, marched forth into thenight. 

"That very night the bloody battle was fought which sealed the fate ofthe Transvaal--and the dashing colour-sergeant nailed England's proudbanner on the citadel of Pretoria. "

 * * * * *

About once every week, it was my turn for stable-guard at night, consisting of two-hour spells, separated by four hours' rest. Thedrivers did this duty, while the gunners mounted guard over themagazines. On this subject I quote some nocturnal reflections from mydiary:--"Horses at night get very hungry, and have an annoying habitof eating one another's head-ropes reciprocally. When this happens youfind chains if you can, and then they eat the framework of the stall. If you come up to protest, they pretend to be asleep, and eat your armas you pass. They also have a playful way of untying their breast-padsand standing on them, and if you are conscientious, you can amuseyourself by rescuing these articles from under their hind feet. "

The days were never very monotonous; variety was given by revolverpractice, harness cleaning, and lectures on first aid to the wounded. At the same time it came as a great relief to hear that we were atlast close to the Cape. 

From my diary:--

"_February 26. _--Heavy day at stables. Land reported at eleven; sawthrough forage-port a distant line of mountains on port beam, edged bya dazzling line of what looked like chalk cliffs, but I suppose issand. I am on stable-guard for the night (writing this in theguard-room), so when stables were over at four I had to pack hard, andonly got up for a glimpse of things at five, then approaching TableBay, guarded by the splendid Table Mountain, with the tablecloth ofwhite clouds spread on it in the otherwise cloudless sky. I alwaysimagined it a smooth, dull mountain, but in fact it rises inprecipitous crags and ravines. A lovely scene as we steamed up througha crowd of shipping--transports, I suppose--and anchored some way fromshore. Blowing hard to-night. I have been on deck for a few minutes. The sea is like molten silver with phosphorescence under the lash ofthe wind. 

"_February 27. _--Tiresome day of waiting. Gradually got known that weshan't land to-day, though it is possible still we may to-night. Torrid, windless day, and very hot work 'mucking out' and trampinground with the horses, which we did all the morning, and some of theafternoon. News sent round that we had captured Cronje and 5000prisoners; all the ships dressed with flags, and whistles blowing;rockets in evening, banging off over my head now, and horses jumpingin unison. Shall we be wanted? is the great question. We are packedready to land any minute. "

CHAPTER II. 

CAPETOWN AND STELLENBOSCH. 

Landing--Green Point Camp--Getting into trim--My horses--Interlude--Orders to march--Sorrows of a spare driver--March to Stellenbosch--First bivouac--A week of dust and drill--The road to water--Off again. 

"_March 4. _--_Sunday. _--_Green Point Camp. _--This is the first momentI have had to write in since last Tuesday. I am on picket, and writingin the guard-tent by a guttery lantern. 

"To go back:--On Wednesday morning, the 28th of February, we steamedslowly up to a great deserted quay. The silence struck me curiously. Ihad imagined a scene of tumult and bustle on the spot where troops inthousands had been landing continuously for so long. We soon realizedthat _we_ were to supply all the bustle, and that practical work hadat last begun, civilian assistance dispensed with, and the Battery aself-sufficient unit. There was not even a crane to help us, and wespent the day in shoving, levering, and lifting on to trucks andwaggons our guns, carriages, limbers, ammunition, and other stores, all packed as they were in huge wooden cases. It was splendid exerciseas a change from stable-work. Weather melting hot; but every one wasin the highest spirits; though we blundered tediously through the job, for we had no experience in the fine art of moving heavy weights byhand. I forgot to take note of my sensations on first setting foot onAfrican soil, as I was groaning under a case of something terriblyheavy at the time. 

"We worked till long after dark, slept like logs in the dismantledtroop-deck, rose early, and went on until the afternoon of the nextday, when we landed the horses--of which, by the way, we had only lostfour on the voyage--harnessed up some waggons to carry stores, andwere ready. While waiting to start, some charming damsels in whitemuslin brought us grapes. At about four we started for Green PointCamp, which is on a big plain, between the sea and Table Mountain, andis composed of soft white sand, from which the grass has longdisappeared. 

"Directly we reached it, the horses all flung themselves down, androlled in it. We passed through several camps, and halted at ourallotted site, where we formed our lines and picketed our horses heeland head. Then the fun began, as they went wild, and tied themselvesin strangulation knots, and kept it up all night, as the sleeplesspickets reported. 

"After feeding and watering, we unloaded the trucks which had begun tocome in, ate some bully-beef and bread, and then fell asleep anyhow, in a confused heap in our tents. Mine had thirteen in it, and once wewere packed no movement was possible. "

For two more days we were busily employed in unpacking stores, andputting the _materiel_ of battery into shape, while, at the same time, we were receiving our complement of mules and Kaffir drivers for ourtransport waggons. Then came our first parades and drills. Rough wewere no doubt at first. The mobilization of a volunteer battery cannotbe carried out in an instant, and presents numberless difficultiesfrom which infantry are free. Our horses were new to the work, and afew of us men, including my humble self, were only recent recruits. 

The guns, too, were of a new pattern. The H. A. C. At home is armed withthe 15-pounder guns in use in the Regular Field Artillery. But for thecampaign, as the C. I. V. Battery, we had taken out new weapons(presented by the City of London), in the shape of four 12-1/2-pounderVickers-Maxim field guns, taking fixed ammunition, having practicallyno recoil, and with a much improved breech-mechanism. They turned outvery good, but of course, being experimental, required practice inhandling, which could not have been obtained in the few weeks in theLondon barracks. 

On the other hand, the large majority of us were old hands, our seniorofficers and N. C. O. 's were from the Regular Horse Artillery, and allranks were animated by an intense desire to reach the utmostefficiency at the earliest possible moment. 

My impressions of the next ten days are of grooming, feeding, andexercising in the cool twilight of dawn, sweltering dusty drills, often in sand-storms, under a blazing mid-day sun, of "fatigues" ofall sorts, when we harnessed ourselves in teams to things, or made andun-made mountains of ammunition boxes--a constant round of sultrywork, tempered by cool bathes on white sand, grapes from peripateticbaskets, and brief intervals of languid leisure, with _al fresco_meals of bully-beef and dry bread outside our tents. 

Time was marked by the three daily stable hours, each with theirtriple duty of grooming, feeding, and watering, the "trivial round"which makes up so much of the life of a driver. As a very humblerepresentative of that class, my horses were two "spares, " that is, not allotted to any team. Much to my disgust, I was not even providedwith a saddle, and had to do my work bareback, which filled me withindignation at the time, but only makes me smile now. My roan wasalways a sort of a pariah among the sub-division horses, anincorrigible kicker and outcast, having to be picketed on a pegoutside the lines for his misdeeds. Many a kick did I get from him;and yet I always had a certain affection for him in all his troubled, unloved life, till the day when, nine months later, he trotted off tothe re-mount depot at Pretoria, to vex some strange driver in astrange battery. My other horse, a dun, was soon taken as a sergeant'smount, and I had to take on an Argentine re-mount, a rough, stupidlittle mare, with kicking and biting propensities which quite threwthe roan's into the shade. She also had a peg of ignominy, and threetimes a day I had to dance perilously round my precious pair with atentative body-brush and hoof-pick. The scene generally ended in thepegs coming away from the loose sand, and a perspiring chase throughthe lines. I had some practice, too, in driving in a team, for one ofour drivers "went sick, " and I took his place in the team of anammunition-waggon for several days. 

Abrupt contrasts to the rough camp life were some evenings spent withWilliams in Capetown, where it already felt very strange to be diningat a table, and sitting on a chair, and using more than one plate. Once it was at the invitation of Amery of the _Times_, in the palatialsplendour of the Mount Nelson Hotel, where I felt strangelyincongruous in my by no means immaculate driver's uniform. But _how_ Ienjoyed that dinner! Had there been many drivers present, themanagement would have been seriously embarrassed that evening. 

Wildly varying rumours of our future used to abound, but on March 14, a sudden order came to raise camp, and march to Stellenbosch. Teamswere harnessed and hooked in, stores packed in the buck waggons, tentsstruck, and at twelve we were ready. Before starting Major McMickingaddressed us, and said we were going to a disaffected district, andmust be very careful. We took ourselves very seriously in those days, and instantly felt a sense of heightened importance. Then we startedon the road which by slow, _very_ slow, degrees was to bring us toPretoria in August. 

My preparations had been very simple, merely the securing of a blanketover the roan's distressingly bony spine, and putting a bit in hisrefractory mouth. As I anticipated, there had been a crisis over mylack of a saddle at the last moment, various officers and N. C. O. 'slaying the blame, first on me (of all people), and then on each other, but chiefly on me, because it was safest. Not having yet learnt theunquestioning attitude of a soldier, I felt a great martyr at thetime. The infinite insignificance of the comfort on horseback of onespare driver had not yet dawned upon me; later on, I learnt thatindispensable philosophy whose gist is, "Take what comes, and don'tworry. "

We passed through Capetown and its interminable suburbs, came out onto open rolling country, mostly covered with green scrub, and, in theafternoon, formed our first regular marching camp, on a bit of greensward, which was a delicious contrast after Green Point Sand. Guns andwaggons were marshalled, picket-ropes stretched between them, thehorses tied up, and the routine of "stables" begun again. 

It was our first bivouac in the open, and very well I slept, with myblanket and waterproof sheet, though it turned very cold about twowith a heavy dew. A bare-backed ride of thirteen miles had made mepretty tired. 

The next day we were up at five, for a march of eighteen miles toStellenbosch. At mid-day we passed hundreds of re-mount ponies, travelling in droves, with Indian drivers in turbans and loose whitelinen. Half-way we watered our horses and had a fearful jostle with aYeomanry corps (who were on the march with us), the Indians, and awhole tribe of mules which turned up from somewhere. In the afternoonwe arrived at our camp, a bare, dusty hill, parching under the sun. 

We passed a week here, drilling and harness cleaning, in an atmosphereof dust and never-ending rumours. 

Here are two days from my diary:--

"_March 18. _--Still here. Yesterday we rose early, struck tents, harnessed horses, and waited for orders to go to the station. Nothinghappened: the day wore on, and in the evening we bivouacked as we werein the open. The night before we had great excitement about somemysterious signalling on the hills: supposed to be rebels, and theYeomanry detachment (who are our escort) sent out patrols, who foundnothing. To-day we are still awaiting orders, ready to start in halfan hour, but they let us have a fine slack day, and we had a greatbathe in the afternoon. Ostriches roam about this camp, eating emptysoda-water bottles and any bridoon bits they can find. Three times aday we ride bareback to water horses at the re-mount depot, passingpicturesque Indian camps. Williams and I are sitting under ourammunition waggon, where we are going to sleep: it is sunset and thehills are violet. A most gorgeous range of them fronts this camp. 

"_March 19. _--Worse than ever. No orders to start, but orders tore-pitch tents. Delays seem hopeless, and now we may be any time here. Cooler weather and some rain to-day: much pleasanter. Only two tentsto a sub-division, and there are sixteen in mine, a frightful squash. Long bareback ride for the whole battery before breakfast; enjoyed itvery much. Marching-order parade later. Argentine very troublesome:bites like a mad dog and kicks like a cow: can't be groomed. To-dayshe tried to bite me in the stomach, but as I had on a vest, shirt, body belt, money belt, and waistcoat, she didn't do much damage, andonly got a waistcoat button and a bit of pocket!"

We were uncommonly glad to receive definite orders on the 20th to moveup country. The Battery was to be divided. The right section to go toMatjesfontein, and the left section, which was mine, to PiquetbergRoad. Nobody knew where these places were, but we vaguely gatheredthat they were somewhere on the line of communications, which, rightlyor wrongly, we thought very disappointing. For two more days we stoodin readiness to start, chafing under countermanding orders, andpitching and re-pitching of tents, so little did we know then of thecommon lot of a soldier on active service. 

We were to go by train, and the right section under the Major startedabout midnight on the 20th, and we on the next day, at four o'clock. 

Guns, horses, and waggons were entrained very quickly, and just atdark I found myself in a second-class carriage, one of a merry partyof eight, sitting knee-deep in belts, haversacks, blankets, cloaks, and water-bottles. We travelled on till midnight, and then stoppedsomewhere, posted guards, and slept in the carriages till dawn. 

CHAPTER III. 

PIQUETBERG ROAD. 

Piquetberg Road--A fire--Kitless--A typical day--A bed--"Stableman"--Picket--A rebel--Orders for the front, with a proviso--Rain--Anungrateful patient--"Bazing"--Swimming horses--My work--The weather--Ablue letter. 

When I woke up on the morning of the 22nd of March, the legend"Piquetberg Road" was just visible on a big white board opposite thecarriage. So this was our destination. There was a chill sense inevery one of not having got very far towards the seat of war--indeed, we were scarcely eighty miles from Capetown; but our spirits were soonraised by the advent of some Tommies of the Middlesex Militia, whospoke largely of formidable bodies of rebels in the neighbourhood, ofan important pass to guard, and of mysterious strategical movements inthe near future; so that we felt cheerful enough as we detrained ourguns and horses, harnessed up, and marched over a mile and a half ofscrub-clothed _veldt_, to the base of some steep hills, where wepitched our camp, and set to work to clear the ground of undergrowth. We were at the edge of a great valley, through which ran the line ofrailway, disappearing behind us in a deep gorge in the hills, where alittle river ran. This was the pass we were to help to guard. 

Below in the valley lay a few white houses round the station, a farmor two dotted the distant slopes, and the rest was desert scrub andveldt. 

Now that the right section had parted from us, we had two officers, Captain Budworth commanding, and Lieutenant Bailey; about sixty men, two guns, two ammunition waggons, and two transport waggons, withtheir mules and Kaffir drivers, under a conductor. Our little squarecamp was only a spot upon the hill-side, the guns and horse-lines inthe middle, a tent for the officers on one side, and a tent at eachcorner for the men. Here we settled down to the business-like routineof camp life, with great hopes of soon being thought worthy to join abrigade in the field. 

The work was hard enough, but to any one with healthy instincts thesplendid open-air life was very pleasant. Here are some days from mydiary:--

"_March 23. _--Marching order parade. Drove centres of our sub-divisionwaggon. 

"I have got a saddle for my own horse at last, and feel happier. Whereit came from I don't know. 

"I am 'stableman' for three days, and so missed a bathing paradeto-day, which is a nuisance, as there is no means of washing herenearer than a river some distance off, to which the others rode. Whilethey were away there was an alarm of fire in the lines of theMiddlesex Militia, next to ours. Bugles blew the 'alarm. ' The scrubhad caught fire quite near the tents, and to windward of us. Therewere only four of us in camp, one a bombardier, who took command andlost his head, and after some wildly contradictory orders, said to me, 'Take that gun to a place of safety. ' How he expected me to take thegun by myself I don't know. However, the fire went out, and all waswell. 

"I forgot to say that on the day we left Stellenbosch, a mail at lastcame in, and I got my first letters. They came by the last mail, andwe have evidently missed a lot. Also a telegram, weeks old, sayingHenry (my brother) had joined Strathcona's Horse in Ottawa and wascoming out here. Delighted to hear it, but I shall probably never seehim. 

"By the way, I am parted from all my kit at present. Having had nosaddle, I have been used to put it on the transport waggon of oursub-division, but this went with the other section for someinscrutable reason, or rather didn't go, for it was wrecked by a trainwhen crossing the line. I heard vaguely that the contents were savedand sent on with the right section, but am quite prepared to find itis lost. Not that I miss it much. One wants very little really, inthis sort of life. Fortunately I kept back my cloak and blanket. Alovely night to-night: Williams and I have given up tents as toocrowded, and sleep under the gun; to-night we have built a rampart ofscrub round it, as there is a fresh wind. 

"_March 28. _--Marching order parade at eight. I was told to turn outas a mounted gunner, which is a very jolly job. You have a singlemount and ride about as ground-scout, advance-guard, rear-guard, etc. We had a route-march over the pass through the mountains, a lovelyride, reminding me of the Dordogne. We came out into a beautifulvalley the other side, with a camp of some Highlanders: here we fedand watered ourselves and horses and then marched home. My kit turnedup from Matjesfontein. 

"It strikes me that I have given very few actual details of our lifeand work, so, as I have got two hours to myself, I will try and do itmore exactly. 

"Reveillé sounds at 5. 30, and 'stables' at six, with the first gleamof dawn; horses are now fed, and then groomed for half an hour. Fromthis point the days differ. Here is the sketch of a marching orderday, from a driver's point of view. To resume, then:--From 6. 30 wehave half an hour to pack kits, that is to say, to roll the cloak andstrap it on the riding saddle, pack the off saddle with spare bootsand rolls made up of a waterproof sheet, blanket, harness-sheets, spare breeches, muzzles, hay-nets, etc. , and finally to buckle onfilled nose-bags and our mess-tins, and strap horse-blankets under thesaddles. His stable-kit and the rest of a driver's personal belongingsare carried in four wallets, two on each saddle. 

"At seven, breakfast--porridge, coffee, and bread, and sometimes jam. Our tent has a mess-subscription, and adds any extras required fromthe canteen. But we always fare well enough without this, for theCaptain thinks as much of the men as of the horses, and is often to beseen tasting and criticizing at the cooks' fire. 

"At 7. 30 'boot and saddle' sounds, and in half an hour your horseshave to be ready-harnessed and yourself dressed in 'marching order, 'that is to say, wearing helmet, gaiters, belt, revolver, haversack, water-bottle, and leg-guard. 

"At eight 'hook in' is ordered; teams are hooked together and into theguns and waggons. 'Mount the detachment' and gunners take their seats. 'Prepare to mount' (to the drivers) followed by 'Mount, ' 'Walk March, 'and you are off. We always go first to the watering-place, a sandypool in the river, unhook and water the horses. Then we either marchaway, and drill and exercise over the veldt, or go for a route-marchto some distance. The weather is always hot, and often there is adust-storm raging, filling eyes, ears, and mouth, and trying thetemper sorely. 

"We are back at camp about 1. 30, form our lines again, between theguns and waggons, unharness, rub down horses, and then have dinner. There is fresh beef generally (that unlovely soldiers' stew), andeither rice, duff, or, now and then, stewed quinces, which are verycommon in the country. We can buy beer at a canteen, or, better still, draught ginger-beer, which is a grand drink. At three 'stables'sounds, with grooming first, and then (I am choosing a full day)harness cleaning; that is to say, soaping all leather-work, andscouring steel-work. Harness-cleaning is irksome work, and, as far asappearances go, is a heart-breaking task, for the eternal dust isalways obliterating every trace of one's labour. I have none of my ownto look after yet, but help the others. 

"At 4. 30 or five 'Prepare for water' sounds. You put a bridoon on onehorse, and, if you are luxurious, a blanket and surcingle to sit on, lead the other, and form up in a line; then 'file right' is the order, and you march off to the watering place, wearing any sort of costumeyou please. And very slight and _negligé_ some of them are. In thecool of the evening, this is a very pleasant three quarters of anhour. After watering comes the evening feed, followed by tea at sixo'clock, and then the day's work is done. "

The evenings in that climate are delicious; we could sit in ourshirt-sleeves until any hour, without any perceptible chill in theair, playing cards, or smoking and talking, or reading by a lantern. Williams and I found picket a great resource; and many a good game ofwhist have I had sitting in a crowded quartette in our ramshacklebattery Cape-cart, with an inch of candle guttering among the cards. 

Most of us slept in the tents, but I preferred the open, even indust-storms, when choosing a site required some skill. The compositionof a bed was a question of sacks. There was one very large variety ofchaff-sack, which was a sleeping-bag in itself; with this and yourblanket and cloak, and under the lee of some forage or scrub, youcould defy anything. The only peril was that of a loose horse walkingon you. 

On some afternoons we were quite free till the stable-hour at four. Till then we could bask in camp, or go for a bathe in the river, wherethere was one splendid deep-water pool, whence you could hear thebaboons barking on the hill-sides, and see the supply trains for thefront grinding heavily up the pass. 

Rumours of a move never lost their charm. At first we used to takethem seriously, but gradually the sense of permanence began to pervadeour camp. Solid tin shelters rose for the guard and the sergeants; asubstantial tin canteen was erected close to the lines by cynicalprovision-dealers. Those visionary rebels declined to show themselves;nobody attacked our precious pass; and, in short, we had toconcentrate our minds upon the narrow circle of our daily life. 

A recurring duty for drivers was that of "stableman. " There were twoof these for each sub-division, who were on duty for the whole day inthe lines. Their function, in addition to the usual duties, was todraw forage, watch the horses, and prepare all the feeds in thenose-bags, ready for the drivers. The post was no sinecure, for inaddition to the three standard oat feeds, there was oat straw to beput down after dinner, and, at eight o'clock at night, a final supperof chaff, except for invalids, who got special feeds. A list of thesewas given you generally at the last moment, and it was a test for yourtemper to go round the lines on a windy night, lighting many futilematches, in order to see the number on the off fore hoof, so as to hitoff the right ones. There was generally a nose-bag missing at thisstage, which was ultimately found on a C horse (my sub-division wasD), and then there was a lively five minutes of polite recrimination. At 8. 30 the nose-bags had to be taken off, and muzzles put on--canvasaffairs with a leather bottom, strapped on by the head collar--as apreventive against disease from the chill morning air. Every man, after evening stables, was supposed to leave his muzzles on thejowl-piece of his horses, but a stableman was quite sure to find twomissing, and then he would have to scour the tents, and drive theoffender to the lines to repair his neglect; then he could go to bed. Another extra duty was that of picket at night, which came round togunners and drivers alike, about every ten days. "Two hours on andfour hours off" was the rule, as on all sentry-duty. I rarely foundthe night watches long. There was plenty to do in watching the horses, which are marvellously ingenious at untying knots, and in patrollingthe camp on the look-out for imaginary rebels. By the way, the onlylive rebel I ever saw was the owner of a farm, near which we haltedduring one sultry dusty route-march. He refused to allow us to waterour horses and ourselves at his pond, defying us with Lord Kitchener'sproclamation enjoining "kind treatment" of the Dutch!

As the days passed without orders for the front, impatience anddisappointment grew. We were fit and well, and were not long inreaching the standard of efficiency which carried us successfullythrough our campaigning later. We used to "grouse" vigorously over ourbad luck, with what justice I do not pretend to say; but no one whohas not experienced it, can understand the bitterness of inaction, while the stream of reinforcements is pouring to the front. Scraps ofnews used to come in of the victorious march of the army northward, and of the gallant behaviour of the C. I. V. Infantry. Companies ofYeomanry used to arrive, and leave for destinations with enticingnames that smelt of war, and night after night rollicking snatches of"Soldiers of the Queen" would float across the valley from thetroop-trains, as they climbed the pass northward. 

As early as April 15th, the word went round that we were under ordersto go to Bloemfontein--"as soon as transport could be ready for us. "

"_April 15. _--Amid great delight the Captain to-day read a telegramsaying we are to go to Bloemfontein as soon as the railway can takeus. We had just come in from the ride to water in drenching rain andankle deep in mud, but a great cheer went up. The railway limitationis a rather serious one, as I believe the line is in a hopeless stateof block; but we'll hope for the best. The rainy season has begun inthe most unmistakable fashion. It has poured so far in buckets fortwenty-four hours; I slept out last night, but daren't to-night;outlying parts of me got wet, in spite of the waterproof over me. Thank goodness, we have good boots, gaiters, and cloaks. We rode towater at eleven in various queer costumes, and mostly bare legs, andafterwards dug trenches through the lines. The rest of the day we havebeen huddled in a heap in our tent, a merry crowd, taking our meals inhorrible discomfort, but uproarious spirits. 

"I still have the roan, but have lost the Argentine and got a bay mareinstead; it's not a bad animal. There was a false alarm of glandersthe other day. One of the gun-team had a swollen throat, but it turnsout to be something else. I was told off to help foment him with hotwater the night it was discovered. He kicked us all, and completelyfloored me with a kick in the chest, which didn't hurt happily. Yesterday I had to take him down to the station and foment him fromthe kitchen boiler of the station-master's wife. I enjoyed it, as Ihad plenty of rests, and the station-master's wife made me delicioustea, served to me by a sweet little white-frocked girl. By the way, onthe road to water the other day a caravan full of people stopped us, and small maidens went down the line, giving us apples and cigarettesand cakes. "

Little we understood that ironical "railway" proviso of a harassedgeneral staff. We had been reviewed the day before, and the goodpractice of our guns had been praised by the inspecting officer. Nowwas our chance, we thought. Nevertheless, we had to live on thatguarded "order" for another month. 

But in spite of our disappointment I believe all of us will look backwith real pleasure to that time. There was no monotony in the life, thanks to our officers, who continually introduced variety into ourwork. "Marching order" days were the commonest; but there were othersof a lighter sort. On one day we would go for a long expedition indrill-order with the guns, taking cooks and our dinner with us, andhave what we used to call a picnic by some pleasant river-side. Onanother the guns would be left at home, and we would ride out forexercise, often through the pass, which led through a lovely ravine toa pretty little place called Tulbagh, where there was another smallcamp of troops. Sometimes "bazing" was the order, a portmanteau-worddescribing a morning spent in grazing the horses, and bathingourselves. My diary of April 8th says, "Yesterday about twenty of uswent out to practice swimming with horses. We rode about seven milesto a deepish river, stripped, off-saddled, and swam them across. Somewouldn't do it at all, but most of them swam across and back. Youbuckle the rein up short and leave him alone. It's a very queer motionat first. One of those I took declined to go in, in spite of half adozen chaps goading him on in various ways, and finally bolted awayover the veldt, carrying me naked. He soon came back though. Thehorses have got the habit now of sticking together, and if they getloose in camp never leave the lines. It is a nuisance sometimes, ifyou have to act as a single mount, and ride away on some errand. MyArgentine greatly resents such a move, and tries to circle like aclockwork mouse. She has grown as fat as a pig, though some horses aredoing poorly. The oats are of a very bad quality. "

That brings me to my horses and my own work. We all of us changedhorses a good deal in those days, and I and the roan had severalpartings and re-unitings. As a spare driver, my own work was veryvaried, now of driving in a team, now of riding spare horses, andoccasionally of acting as a mounted gunner. Williams was a regularmounted gunner, his mount being a wicked, disreputable-looking littleArgentine (called "Pussy" (with a lisp) for her qualities), to whom heowed three days in hospital at one time from a bad kick, but whom heended by transforming into as smart and peaceable a little mount asyou could find. My own chance came at last; and when about the end ofApril one of our drivers was sent home sick, I took his place ascentre driver of an ammunition waggon, and kept it permanently. I saidgood-bye to the roan and Argentine, and took over a fine pair of bays. 

My chief impression of the weather is that of heat and dust, but therewere times when we thought the dreaded rainy season had begun; whenthe camp was a running morass, and we crouched in our tents, watchingpools of water soaking under our harness sheets, and counting thelabour over rusted steel. But it used to pass off, leaving a wonderfuleffect; every waste oat seed about the camp sprouted; little greenlawns sprang up in a single night round the places where the foragewas heaped, and the whole veldt put on a delicate pink dress, a powderof tiny pink flowers. 

By the middle of May we began to think we had been forgottenaltogether, but at last, on the morning of the 17th of May, as we weremarching out to drill, an orderly galloped up, and put a long blueletter into the Captain's hand. We had seen this happen before, andour discussions of the circumstance, as we rode along, were sceptical, but this time we were wrong. 

CHAPTER IV. 

BLOEMFONTEIN. 

The railway north--Yesterday's start--Travelling made easy--Feedinghorses--A menu--De Aar--A new climate--Naauwport--Over the frontier--Bloemfontein--A fiasco--To camp again--The right section--Diary days--Riding exercise--A bit of history--Longman's Hospital--Thewatering-place--Artillery at drill--A review--A camp rumour--A tasteof freedom--A tent scene. 

From my diary:--

"_May 20. _--_Sunday. _--I write this on the train, on the way up north, somewhere near Beaufort West; for the long-wished day has come atlast, and we are being sent to Kroonstadt, which anyway is pretty nearto, if not actually at, the front. Our only fear is now that it willbe too late. All day the train has been traversing the Karoo, a desertseamed by bare rocky mountains, and without a sign of life on it, onlyvast stretches of pebbly soil, dotted sparsely with dusty-green dwarfscrub. But to go back. We started yesterday. All went smoothly andsimply. At eight, kit was inspected; in the morning, barebackexercise; at twelve, tents struck; at 12. 30 dinner; at one, 'boot andsaddle. ' When we were hooked in and mounted, the Captain made asplendid little speech in the incisive forcible voice we had learnedto know so well, saying we had had for long the most trying experiencethat can befall a soldier, that of standing fast, while he sees hiscomrades passing him up to the front. He congratulated us on the waywe had met that experience. There had been no complaining or slacknessin our work on that account. He hoped we would have the luck to gointo action, and his last advice to us was 'to keep our stomachs fulland our bellies warm!'

"Then we marched to the station, unharnessed, packed harness, boxedthe horses, put the guns and waggons on the trucks, and were ready. But the train didn't start till about eight o'clock in the evening. One box was reserved for kickers, and you should have seen theirdisgust when they found nothing to bully! We had, and have, a vagueidea that the journey was to last about a week, so Williams and Ibought a large box of provisions and a small paraffin stove. Accustomed to delays, we quite expected no engine to turn up orsomething like that, but finally a whistle blew and we were off, and adelirious shout went up, and then we all sighed with relief, and thengot doubly merry, shouting vain things over a long untasted beverage, whisky and water. One hears so much about the horrors of war that Iscarcely dare to describe the men's accommodation on board this train. It is strange, but true, that I have never travelled more comfortablyin my life, and probably never shall. Most compartments have only fourmen to them, and by great good luck, and a little diplomacy, Williamsand I have one to ourselves, though we form our mess with the fourchaps in the next one. Now the beauty of it is that no one can getinto our train, so, if you get out at a station, you need have no fearof finding a nurse with twins in your special corner seat. You livewithout these terrors, and have room to stretch, and sleep, and read, and have meals, with no one to ask you to show your ticket. In fact, things are reversed; we are not herded and led, and snubbed by portersand officials, but the train belongs to us, and we ignore them. 

"We sat up late last night, and then Williams and I slept in greatcomfort, though it felt quite odd to have something between one andthe stars. It's true there was a slight break, caused by the doorbeing flung open, and sacks of bread being hustled in from theoutside. But a soldier's training takes no account of these things, and you instinctively jump out half-dressed, and help to shovel moresacks in, you don't know why, or what they are. Being woken up, we goton to the platform over an intervening train, and sent cables homefrom an office standing invitingly open. Then to bed again. Later, inmy dreams, I was aware of a sergeant and an irascible littlestation-master coming into the carriage with lanterns and throwingmost of the sacks out again, which it seemed had been annexedfeloniously by our Captain, at the last station, in his zeal to keepour 'stomachs full. ' I was glad to get rid of the sacks, as theyfilled our carriage up completely. The train has to stop for aboutthree-quarters of an hour or less, three times a day, for feeding andwatering the horses. The first stop to-day was about 6. 30 A. M. Wetumbled out in the delicious fresh air, and formed into pre-arrangedfeeding and watering parties. I am on the feed party of oursubdivision, and we climbed like beetles up the sides of the trucks, which are open, and strap on the nose-bags. Then we washed at afriendly tap, and had our own breakfast which the cooks hadcooked--coffee and porridge. Then we climbed back and took offnose-bags, and then the train went on. At this station we'commandeered' a splendid table in the shape of a large square tinadvertisement of a certain Scotch whisky, and played whist on it afterbreakfast. The train wound slowly through a barren stretch of brownplain and rocky wild. Stations happened now and then, little silentspots in the wilderness, their _raison d'être_ a mystery, no houses, roads, or living things near, except a white tent or two, and somesunburnt men in khaki looking curiously at us. There are troops insmall bodies all up the line in this 'loyal' colony. At one stationthe Kimberley mail caught us up, and the people threw us magazines andbiscuits from the windows. All engines and stations were decoratedwith flags in honour of the relief of Mafeking, the news of which camethrough yesterday. A hospital train bound to Capetown also passed, with some pale faces and bandaged limbs in evidence. 

"At 1. 30 we stopped again for feed and water, and when we went on ourmess sat down to the following lunch, which I think does credit to ourcatering powers. 

 MENU. 

 R. B. S. Emergency Soup. Cold Roast Fowl, with Stuffing. Bully Beef, with Mustard. Whiskied Biscuits. Desserts Variés. Chocolate. Ginger. Bonbons. Oranges. German Beer. Cigars. Cigarettes. 

"I wrote the _menu_ out in French first, but it seemed not to suit. 

"All the afternoon the same desolation, like pictures one sees of themoon's surface. About six, water and feed at Beaufort West, and horsesled out, trucks mucked out, and tea served out. 

"The night was very cold; in fact, the climate is quite different onthese high table-lands. I woke up about six, looked out, and saw, justopposite, the legend DE AAR, which for the first time seemed toconnect us with the war. We stopped a moment, and then moved onthrough lines of tents, loaded waggons, mountains of ammunition, etc. Then I saw a strange sight, in the shape of ice on puddles and whitehoarfrost. Soon out on the broad, brown veldt, far-distant hillsshowing finely cut in the exquisitely clear air. Such an atmosphere Ihave never seen for purity. The sun was rising into a cloudless skyfrom behind a kopje. The flat-topped kopje is now the regular feature. They are just like miniature Table-mountains, and it is easy to seehow hard to capture they must be. Water, feed, and breakfast at a tinyroadside place, with the inevitable couple of tents and khaki men. Wewere at whist when we steamed up to a big, busy camp-station, the RedCross flying over a dozen big marquee tents, and a couple of hundredsorry-looking remounts (by the look of them) picketed near. This wasNaauwport. We stopped alongside a Red Cross train full of white, unshaven faces--enterics and wounded going back to the base. They werecheerful enough, and we shouted inquiries about one another. They wereunanimous in saying we were too late, which was very depressing news, but I don't suppose they knew much about it. We washed ourselves inbig buckets here. As we were steaming out I saw a long unfamiliarsight, in the shape of a wholesome, sunburnt English girl, dressed inshort-skirted blue serge, stepping out as only an English girl can. She was steering for the Red Cross over the tents, and, I daresay, wasnursing there. Off again, over the same country, but looking moreinhabited; passed several ostrich farms, with groups of the big, graceful birds walking delicately about; also some herds of cattle, and a distant farm or two, white against the blue hill-shadows. Sooncame the first visible signs of war--graves, and long lines oftrenches here and there. At a stop at a shanty (can't call it astation) a man described a fight for a kopje just by the railway. Coleskop was in view, a tall, flat-topped mountain, and later westeamed into the oft-taken and retaken Colesberg Junction, and wereshown the hill where the Suffolks were cut up. All was now barrenveldt again, and the strangeness of the whole thing struck mecuriously. Why should men be fighting here? There seemed to be nothingto fight for, and nothing behind to get to when you had fought. 

"_May 22. _--_Tuesday. _--As I write we are standing just outsideBloemfontein; cold, sunny morning; the Kaffir quarter just on ourright, a hideous collection of mud houses with tin roofs; camps andstores on the left; boundless breadth of veldt beyond; the town infront under a long, low kopje, a quiet, pretty little place. 

"We reached the frontier--Norval's Pont--at 6 P. M. Yesterday, andafter a long delay, moved slowly out in the dark, till the shimmer ofwater between iron girders told us we were crossing the Orange river. Once off the bridge, a shout went up for our first step on the enemy'scountry. Then all went on the same. We made ourselves comfortable, andbrewed hot cocoa, for all the world as though we were travelling fromBoulogne to Geneva. The only signs of hostility were the shrillexecrations of a crowd of infant aborigines. 

"We woke up to a changed country. The distances were still greater, low hills only occasionally breaking the monotony of flat plain, butthe scrub had given way to grass, not verdant Irish grass, but sparse, yellow herbage. Ant-hills and dead horses were the only objects in theforeground, except eternal wreaths and tangles of telegraph wire alongthe tracks, and piles of sleepers, showing the damage done, and nowrepaired, to line and wire. The same pure crisp air and gentlesunlight. 

"_May 24. _--_Thursday. _--I write in our tent on the plateau aboveBloemfontein, and will go on where I left off on the 22nd. To ourutter disgust, after standing for hours in a siding of the station, chatting to all sorts and conditions of the species soldier, the ordercame to detrain. We drivers took the horses first to water, and thenpicketed them on an arid patch of ground near the station, where thegunners had meantime brought the guns and waggons. It was now dark, and there were no rations served out; very cold, too, and we had nokit, but it wasn't these things we minded, but the getting out insteadof training on. 'Kroonstadt' is redolent of war, but, 'Bloemfontein'spells inaction. However, there was no help for it. We slept on theground, and precious cold this new climate was. I hadn't my Stohwasserblanket, and spent most of the night stamping about and smoking. Atreveillé next day rations were still lacking, but we all trooped offto a tin hut and had tea, given by an unseen angel, named SisterBagot. 'Boot and saddle' sounded at nine, and we marched off to thecamp, about two miles away. There was a very nasty ravine to cross, and we had to have drag ropes on behind, with the gunners on them, tosteady us down the descent. I was driving centres as usual, and sawthe leaders almost disappear in front of me. At the bottom we crosseda stream, and then galloped them up the other side. Soon after wepassed through Bloemfontein, a quiet, dull-looking place, like asuburb of Cape Town, mounted a long hill, and came out on to anotherbroad plain, kopjes in the distance, and tents dotted far and wide. The first moving thing I saw was a funeral, --slow music, a group ofkhaki figures, and the bright colours of a Union Jack glintingbetween. 

"Our right section, that is, the other half of the Battery, from whichwe had been separated ever since Stellenbosch, had trained on a dayahead of us, and were now already encamped, so we marched up andjoined our lines to theirs, pitched our tents, and once more theBattery was united. And what a curious meeting it was! Half of themwere unrecognizable with beards and sunburn, as were many of us, Isuppose. What yarns we had! All that day, in the intervals betweenfatigues, and far into the night, in the humming tents. Jacko was withthem. He had been lost on the journey, but came on by a later trainvery independently. "

We all had a presentiment of evil, and, as it turned out, we were keptnearly a month at Bloemfontein, while still reports of victories camein. Yet news was very scarce, and had we known it, the period was onlyjust beginning, of that long, irregular warfare, by which the twoprovinces had to be conquered, when the brilliancy of Roberts'smeteoric march to Pretoria was past. We were to take our small sharein work as necessary and arduous as any in these latter stages of thewar. 

Meanwhile we were now a complete battery, and worked hard at our drillas such, though there was very little to learn after our long trainingin Cape Colony. We kept our spirits up, though the time was adepressing one. Mortality was high in Bloemfontein at that time, inspite of the healthy, exhilarating climate. A good many of us had togo into hospital, but we were fortunate enough to lose no livesthrough illness. 

Here are some extracts from my diary:--

"_May 24. _--_Queen's Birthday. _--The guns went to a review, and gothigh praise for their turn out. The rest of us exercised on strippedsaddles, trotting over bare flat ground, with sparse grass on it, thegreatest contrast to the Piquetberg Road country. 

"In the evening Williams and I and some others wandered off to try andget a wash. We prowled over the plain and among the camps asking theway to water, and carrying our towels and soap, and finally stumbledover a trough and a tap. The water here is unfit for drinking, and weare forbidden to drink it except boiled. 

"_May 28. _--Riding exercise again; a long and jolly ride round thecountry. Half-way we did cavalry exercises for some time, which, whenevery man has a led horse, and many two of them, is rather a roughgame. I was riding Williams's Argentine, Pussy, a game little beast, but she got very worried and annoyed over wheeling and forming foursand sections. Directly we got back and had off-saddled we fell in, andone out of four was allowed to go down to town and see theProclamation of Annexation read. I was lucky enough to be picked, tumbled into proper dress, and hurried down just in time. The usualsight as I passed the cemetery, thirteen still forms on stretchers infront of the gate, wrapped in the rough service blanket, waiting to beburied. I found the Market Square full of troops drawn up, and aflag-staff in the middle, with a rolled-up flag on it. Soon a bandheralded the arrival of the Governor, Colonel Pretyman, and theStaff-officers. Then a distant voice began the Proclamation, of whichI couldn't hear a word except 'colony' at the end, at which every onecheered. Then the flag was unrolled, and hung dead for a minute, tilla breeze came and blew out 'that haughty scroll of gold, ' the RoyalStandard. Bands struck up 'God save the Queen, ' a battery on a hillabove the town thundered out a royal salute, everybody cheered, and Iwas standing on British soil. I saw not a single native Dutchmanabout, only crowds of the khakied of all ranks and sorts. After thislittle bit of history-making I hurried back to the commonplace task ofclipping my mare's heels, an operation requiring great agility on thepart of the clipper. 

"For a 'stableman, ' as I am now, the evening is rather a busy one. Atseven you have to make up the feeds for the last feed; at 7. 45 putthem round the harness-sets behind the horses; at eight feed, forwhich all hands turn out; at 8. 30 take off nose-bags and put onmuzzles; and after that make up another feed ready for early nextmorning. You can't finish before 'lights out, ' and have to go to bedin the dark, to the loudly expressed annoyance of your neighbours inthe tent (I sleep in a tent these nights), on whose bodies you placethe various articles of your kit while you arrange your bed, and whoselimbs you sometimes mistake for materials for a pillow, when you arecomposing that important piece of upholstery. 

"_May 30. _--_Wednesday. _--In the afternoon Williams and I went tovisit a friend in Langman's Hospital. Bloemfontein is a town ofhospitals, red crosses flying at every turn. The mortality is high, even, I was surprised to hear from our friend, among sisters andhospital orderlies. Out of six sisters in his hospital, which seemed avery good one, four had enteric at the time, and one had died of it. Iwas on picket duty this night, and had a lively time chasing loosehorses in the dark. A new sort of head-rope we are using seems verypalatable to the horses, as they mostly eat it for supper, and thenget loose. 

"_May 31. _--Out at riding exercise we came to a fortified kopje, wherewe dismounted, and were allowed to examine a beautifully made trenchrunning round the top, very deep, and edged by a wall of stonesarranged to give loopholes. Some one found a Boer diary in the dust, the entries in which seemed to alternate between beer and biblereading. We always water at the common trough, the last thing beforereturn. Such varieties of the horse species you could see no whereelse; thick, obstinate little Argentines, all with the same Romannoses and broad, ugly heads; squab little Basuto ponies, angularskeletonesque Cape horses, mules of every nationality, Texan, Italian, Illyrian, Spanish; here and there a beautiful Arab belonging to someofficer; and dominating all, our own honest, substantial 'bus and tramhorses, almost the only representatives of English horseflesh. Thereare always a few detached horses stampeding round ownerless, orlimping feebly down with a lost, hopeless look in their eyes, trippingat every step over a tattered head-rope, and seeming to belong tonobody and care for nothing. We always ride down in strict order, eachman leading one or two. 

"_June 3. _--Marching-order parade. We had a good morning drill overwhat is perfect artillery country, with just the right amount ofexcitement in the shape of ditches to jump, and anthills, which arelegion, and holes to avoid. I am delighted with my pair, which areboth very fit now; and our waggon team has been going very well. 

"_June 4. _--Riding exercise and sham-fight; an enemy supposed to beattacking a convoy. Being in the convoy, I haven't a clear idea ofwhat happened, but only know we were kept dodging about kopjes, andbolting across open places uncaptured. 

"_June 5. _--Another field-day, with guns and waggons, before ColonelDavidson, the Brigadier of Artillery here. We went out to some distantkopjes, and went into action at two different points. I believe theshooting was very good; they had targets of biscuit-tins stuck up onthe kopjes. Some of you who read this at home may not know howartillery work, so I may as well roughly sketch what happens on theseoccasions. There are four guns and five waggons. A waggon is built onthe same plan as a gun, that is, in two parts, the waggon-body and thewaggon-limber, the limber being in front, and having the pole fordraught, just as the gun-carriage and the gun-limber form the twoparts of the 'gun. ' Both waggon-body and waggon-limber carryammunition, as does the gun-limber. There are four gunners on the gun, and four on the waggon. When suitable ground has been selected by theMajor, and thoroughly scouted first by the mounted gunners, the orderis given to advance into action. The guns trot up in line; 'Actionfront, right about wheel' is given, and each swings round, thusbringing the muzzle of the gun to the front. The limber is thenunhooked from the trail of the gun, and the teams trot back with thelimbers to the rear, leaving the guns to be worked by the gunners. Atthe same time the signal is sent back to the waggons, who, meanwhile, have been halted in the rear, if possible under cover, to send up twowaggons. Two are told off, and they trot up to the firing line. 'Halt, ' 'Unhook!' The wheelers are rapidly unhooked, the team trotsback again to the rear. Presently two more are called up with moreammunition. These do the same thing, but after unhooking trot roundand hook into the other two (now empty) waggons, and trot them back. The empty waggons are refilled from the mule-waggons, which follow thebattery with the reserve shells, and their black crews and all. 'Limber-supply, ' that is, use of the shells in the _gun_-limber, isonly ordered in the last resort or in exceptional cases. Finally, whenthe firing position is to be changed, the gun-limbers trot up; 'Limberup' is given. The gun is hooked to the limber, and the re-unitedmachines trot away to the new position, followed by the waggons. Insome cases, too, when the waggons come up to the firing-line, theyonly leave the waggon-body there, trot away with the limber, and comeback and 'limber up' later, in the same way as the gun. It all dependson how much ammunition is wanted. Of course, there are many variationsof movement, but this is an average specimen. 

"_June 10. _--_Sunday. _--I and Williams are stablemen, and the resthave gone to church parade. We have just had an icy wash withfar-fetched water in an old ammunition box. The weather has turnedvery cold again at nights, with considerable frost. I have beensleeping out again though since the first week of our coming here, finding snug lairs under the quartermaster's stores. We have marchingorder parades most days now, and are pretty hard-worked. Yesterday wewere reviewed by General Pretyman, together with another field-batteryand a pom-pom battery. We trotted about in various formations, and theguns went into action once; and that was all. Our guns got into actionquicker than either of the regular batteries. A message wascommunicated to us by the General from Lord Roberts, saying we mustnot be disappointed at not having gone to the front; that there wasplenty more work to be done, and that meanwhile we were doing veryuseful work in helping to guard this place. I am afraid we are notvery sanguine, but we never entirely lose hope, and a wild idea thatthis review and the other day's inspection might be preliminary to anorder to go up, cheered us up a lot for the time. Camp rumours, too, are just as prolific and as easily swallowed as before. Latterly therehave been all sorts of mysterious reports about the Boers having gotbehind Roberts, re-taken Kroonstadt and cut the railway, massacringvarious regiments, whose names change hourly. A camp rumour is awonderful thing. Generally speaking, there are two varieties, cook-shop rumours and officers' servants' rumours. Both are alwaysfalse, but there is a slightly more respectable mendacity about thelatter than the former. The cooks are always supposed to know if weare changing camp by getting orders about rations in advance. Havingthis slight advantage, they go out of their way to make rumours onevery sort of subject. How many scores of times the cooks have sent usto the front I shouldn't like to say. Officers' servants of coursepick up scraps of information from their masters' tents; in theprocess of transmission to the battery at large the original gets widevariations. We are often just like kitchenmaids and footmen discussingtheir betters. You will hear heated arguments going on as to themeaning of some overheard remarks, and the odd thing is that it nolonger seems strange. 

"_June 13. _--. .. The moon was full this day, and to see it risingsheer out of the level veldt was a thing to remember. For ten minutesbefore there is a red glow on the horizon, which intensifies till aburning orange rim shows above, and soon the whole circle is flamingclear of the earth, only not a circle, but seemingly almost squarewith rounded corners. Round its path on the veldt there is a broadwash of dusty gold. A lot of us came out of the tents, and werespell-bound by the sight. Every evening the sun goes down plumb intothe veldt out of a cloudless sky, and comes up just so in the morning. While he is gone it is bitterly cold now, always with hard frost, butin the middle of the day often very hot. I have never known suchextremes of temperature before. 

"_June 16. _--Yesterday was a red-letter day for me and Williams. Wegot leave off afternoon stables, getting gunners to water and groomour horses, and had from after dinner till 8. 30 P. M. To ourselves. That was the first time I have ever missed duty from any causewhatever since I enlisted on January 3rd, so I think I deserved it. Westarted off, feeling strangely free, and hardly knowing how to use ourfreedom, for two hours is the longest interval from work one usuallygets. We determined to visit the Irish Hospital Camp, where four ofour chaps were sick. The Irish Hospital came out with us in the_Montfort_, so we knew them all. We hired a carriage in the town(!)and drove the rest of the way feeling like lords. We had a long talkwith the invalids, who were mostly doing well, in most comfortablequarters, large roomy tents, with comfortable beds, and clean whitenurses going about. Pat Duffy turned up as a hospital orderly, lookingstrangely clean. The air was heavy with rich brogue. Later we strolledoff, and shopped and shaved in the town, had afternoon tea, and thenwent to a hotel and wrote letters till 6. 30, when we dined inmagnificent style, and then sauntered back, feeling as if an eternityhad passed, and lay down in the dust to sleep. 

"_June 17. _--_Sunday. _--A night and day of rain, in spite of the factthat everybody was clear hitherto that the rainy season was overmonths ago. Exercise at eight, and a smart trot round the countrywarmed horses and men, for it is very cold. Meanwhile, the horse lineshad been shifted, for they were ankle-deep in mud. Once or twice inthe day we were called out to rub legs, ears, and backs of the horses. 

"I am now lying on my back in our tent on a carefully constructedcouch of sacks, rugs, and haversacks, with a candle stuck in aWorcester sauce bottle to light me. Most of us are doing the same, sothe view is that of the soles of muddy boots against strong light, thetentpole in the middle hung thick with water-bottles, helmets, andhaversacks, spurs strung up round the brailing, faces (dirty) seendimly in the gloom beneath. Some write, some sew, some read. One ismuttering maledictions over a tin of treacle he has spilt on his bed(he thought it was empty and stuck a candle on the bottom); one istelling stories (which nobody listens to) of happy sprees in far-offLondon. The air is thick with tobacco-smoke. Outside there is a murmurof stablemen trying to fit shrunk nose-bags on to restive horses, varied by the squeal and thump of an Argentine, as he gets home in theribs of a neighbour who has been fed before him. "

On the day after this was written our long period of waiting came toan end with orders to go at once to Kroonstadt. 

CHAPTER V. 

LINDLEY. 

We were off for the front at last, and I shall now, making a fewnecessary alterations, transcribe my diary, as I wrote it from day today and often hour to hour, under all sorts of varying conditions. 

_June 21. _--_7 A. M. _--I am writing this on the seat of a gun in anopen truck on the way by rail to Kroonstadt. I have been trying tosleep on the floor, but it wasn't a success, owing to frozen feet. Nowthe sun is up and banishing the hoar-frost from the veldt, and thegreat lonely pasture-plain we are travelling slowly through lookswonderfully pleasant. 

But I must go back. 

Yesterday afternoon things looked profoundly settled. I walked down totown with a lot of clothes, and left them to be washed by a nigger, and also left my watch to be mended. But when I got back to "stables"it was announced that we were to leave for Kroonstadt that night. There was great joy, though I fear it means nothing. It's true De Wetand some rebels have been giving trouble round there, and even held upa train, and captured a battalion of militia not long ago; but Ibelieve it's all over now. It was soon dark, and camp had to be struckand horses harnessed in the dark. I got leave, ran down to town andfetched up my unwashed clothes, and put most of them on there andthen. There was the usual busy scene of packing kit, striking tents, drawing rations, filling water-bottles; the whole scene lit up byblazing bonfires of rubbish. In leaving a camp no litter may be left;it has to be left as clean as the surrounding veldt. At nine hotcoffee was served out, and at 9. 45 "boot and saddle" went. Harnessingin pitch dark is not very easy, unless you have everything exactlywhere you can lay your hand on it. 

We marched down to the station, and unharnessed near the platform in adeposit of thick mud. Entraining lasted all night, the mules andbuck-waggons giving a lot of trouble. Some exciting loose-mule-huntsround the station in the dark. Hours of shoving, hauling, lifting, slamming. At last all was in but ourselves. There were evidently nocarriages, so we hurriedly shovelled our kit and ourselves into theopen gun-trucks, squirming into cracks and corners; and at 6. 30 A. M. To-day, with the sun just topping the distant veldt, the whistle blew, and we started. It was a piercing frosty morning; but we were all sotired that we slept just as we were. I found myself nestling on thefloor of a truck (very dirty), between a gun-wheel and the three foothigh side with feed-bags for pillows. Cold feet soon roused me, and Igot up on to the gun in the sun, and saw we were slowly climbing along incline through the usual veldt and kopjes, only more inhabitedlooking, with a tree and a farm or two. A lovely scene with the sunreddening the veldt in the pure crisp air. I smoked a cigarette ingreat content of mind. Soon shapeless heaps of blankets began to movedown the trucks, muffled heads blinked out from odd corners, andgradually the Battery woke, and thawed, and breakfasted on biscuit andbully beef. We have said good-bye to bread. 

We rumbled slowly on all the morning, past the same sort of country, with dead horses and broken bridges marking Roberts's track, and atBrandfort stopped to feed horses, which, by the way, is a nastydangerous game when you are dealing with closed horse-boxes. You haveto climb through a small window, get in among the horses, and put thefeeds on as they are handed up. The horses are not tied up, and arewild with hunger. You have simply to fight to avoid being crushed orkicked in that reeking interior, for they are packed as thick aspossible. 

At Vet River we got the first news of fighting. Boers under De Wet hadbeen breaking bridges, and cutting wires. A very seedy-lookingGuardsman gave us the news, and said they were cold and starving; andthey looked it. What regiment was there? "Oh, we're all details 'ere, "he said, with a gloomy shrug. At Zand River infantry were in trenchesexpecting attack. A fine bridge had been blown up, and we crossed theriver, which runs in a deep ravine, by a temporary bridge built lowdown, the track to it most ingeniously engineered in a spiral way. Anengineer told us they had had hard fighting there a day or two ago. Wereached Kroonstadt about dark; but remained outside all night, supperless and freezing. 

_June 22. _--I walked about most of the night, and got an engine driverto squirt some hot water into a mess-tin to make tea with out oftablets. In early morning a train disgorged a crowd of men who hadbeen prisoners with the Boers at Pretoria, some ever since the firstbattle. When Roberts came they all escaped, under shell-fire from theBoers as a final _congé_. They were a most motley crew, dressed in allmanner of odd clothes. At 7 P. M. Coffee and porridge, and at 7. 30orders came to detrain and harness up sharp, the sections to separateagain. Then followed a whole series of contrary orders, but weultimately harnessed up and hooked in; the right section marched away, and soon after we of the left section did so too, about two o'clock. About three miles off, after climbing a long hill, we unlimbered theguns in a commanding position, and remained there till dark, in theclose and fragrant neighbourhood of about twenty dead horses. Ibelieve we had something to do with some possible or probable fight, but what, I don't know. A very dull battle. We marched back at dark, and bivouacked near the town, close to some Lancers. Of course tentsare said good-bye to now. I slept by my harness, very cold. 

_June 23. _--I woke early and chatted to the Lancers' cook over aroaring wood fire till reveillé. Orders came to start at two, as partof the escort of a convoy going to Lindley, distant about fifty mileseast. Something real to do at last. Quiet morning; sewed buttons on. At one "boot and saddle, " and at two we started and joined the convoy, a long train of ox-waggons, with some traction engines drawing trucks. Our officers are Captain Budworth (in command) and Lieutenant Bailey, just as at Piquetberg Road. The troops with us are some Buffs Militia, Yorkshire Light Infantry, Australian Mounted Infantry (ImperialBushmen Contingent), and some Middlesex Yeomanry. Went through therambling white desolate town, forded a broad river, mounted a steephill, and came out on the open, rolling veldt. Here we halted tillnear sunset, waiting for some waggons, and many and eager were ourspeculations on what was in store for us on this first step into thefield of war. For the first time we saw and talked to infantry on themarch. Our escort (there is always an escort for guns) is a company ofBuffs, lean, stained, ragged, and very _blasé_ about this journeywhich they have made twice before. They are short of most things, andpitifully clad. I saw two with no breeches, only under-pants. All saythey are "fed up, " a phrase always used out here to mean "sick andtired of the war. " The Bushmen seem a pleasant set of fellows. It istheir first campaign too. 

When the truant waggons came up we marched on a few miles, followingthe road, which is just a hard track across the veldt, and bivouackedfor the night, the out-spanned waggons ranged in rows in a roughsquare, as far as I could see, but it was very dark, and we had plentyto do ourselves. After unhooking, we drivers had a long ride over theveldt to a watering-place, losing the way in the dark two or threetimes. It was late when we got back to camp, guided by the fires. Weunharnessed, fed the horses, swallowed some tea and biscuit, and laiddown as we were to sleep. 

_June 24_--_Sunday. _--Up at 3. 45 A. M. And harnessed; very cold. Westarted at five, in the dark, and marched over rolling switchbackveldt till 9. 30, and then halted to let the convoy oxen get theirday's graze and chew. Unharnessed our horses. Coffee and porridge. Iwent on fatigue to fill water-bottles at a filthy pond, and afterwardslaboriously filtered some in a rather useless filter, which is carriedon the gun. The water was so foul that the filter had to be opened andcleaned every four strokes. 

At 12. 45 we harnessed up and started again. I am writing now at one ofthe periodical halts, when every one dismounts. A soft, mild sunset islaying changing tints of colour on the veldt, rose, amber, fawn, withdeep blue shadows. When I speak of _veldt_ I mean simply grass-land, but not a hint of green in it. The natural colour at this season isbuff, with a warm red undertone. When the setting or rising suncatches this the effect is exquisite. 

There is a rumour that a Boer patrol has been sighted, and a prisonercaptured. I believe there is no doubt that De Wet and his force arebetween us and Lindley, and will have a shot at this convoy. We werewarned that we might be attacked to-night. At dark we bivouacked, and, soon after, our right section, under the Major, whom we parted from atKroonstadt, marched in. They had been sent out with a relief column toHoning Spruit, where a train had been attacked and the troops in ithard pressed. The Boers cleared off just before the Battery came up, which then had followed and overtaken us. Another bothersome huntafter water for the horses in the dark. All we could find was astagnant pool, which ought to poison those that drank of it. Some moretroops also joined the column. Colonel Brookfield (M. P. ) is in commandof the whole force. 

_June 25_--_(My birthday). _--Up at 4. 15 A. M. Off at 5. 15, as part ofthe advance guard of the column, the Bushmen and Yeomanry scouting farahead, and the infantry on either flank in a widely extended line. Weall admired the steady regularity of their marching, heavily weightedas they were. Our own gunners also have a good deal of walking to do. "Dismount the detachment" is the order at all up-grades, and atdifficult bits of the road. Drivers dismount at every halt, howevershort, but on the move are always safe in the saddle. We marched overthe same undulating land, with occasional drifts and _spruits_, whichare very hard on the horses. The convoy behind looked like a longsinuous serpent. Watered at seven at a farm. Williams was sent out toforage, and bought a sheep for 15s. , chickens at 1s. 6d. , and aturkey. Gunners were sent out to pillage a maize field. Then wemarched on some miles to the top of a steep ridge looking down upon alower plain, the road crossing a deep ravine at the bottom by a bigsteel bridge. We took up a commanding position at the top, overlookingthe bridge, so as to cover the convoy while it descended and crossed. An attack seems likely, --a curious birthday treat!--4 P. M. --Nothinghas happened. An interminable procession of ox and mule-waggons filesdown the pass; it is a much larger convoy than I thought, and musthave received additions since we started. At this rate we shall beages getting to Lindley. 

One no longer wonders at the slowness of an army's movement out here. The standard of speed is the trek-ox, lurching pensively along underhis yoke, very exacting about his mealtimes, and with no high notionsabout supreme efforts, when he has to get his waggon out of a baddrift. He often prefers to die, and while he is making up hisponderous mind he may be blocking up a column, miles in length, ofother waggons in single file. We talk of the superior mobility of theBoers; but it puzzles me to know how they got it, for oxen and mulesare their standards of speed too, I suppose. 

At dark, when all had passed, we followed ourselves down an abominablydangerous road, and over the bridge to camp, which looked and soundedlike a big busy town, scintillating with fires and resonant with theyells of black drivers packing their waggons. 

_June 26_--_Eight A. M. _--We are in action, my waggon at present haltedin the rear. We harnessed up at 3. 45 this morning, and marched somemiles to the top of another hill, overlooking another plain, acrescent of steep kopjes on the left, occupied by Boers. The convoyhalted just as a spattering rifle-fire ahead struck on the stillmorning air (it was just dawn), and the chatter of a Maxim on the leftflank. We were all rather silent. A staff-officer galloped up, "Walk, --March, " "Trot, " rang out to the Battery, and we trotted aheaddown the hill, plunged down a villainous spruit, and came up on to thelevel, under a pretty heavy fire from the kopje on our left. For mypart, I was absorbed for these moments in a threatened mishap to myharness, and the dread of disgrace at such an epoch. My off horse hadlost flesh in the last few days, and the girth, though buckled up inthe last hole, was slightly too loose. We had to gallop up a steep bitof ascent out of the drift, and to my horror, the pack-saddle on himbegan to slip and turn, so I had to go into action holding on hissaddle with my right hand, in a fever of anxiety, and at firstoblivious of anything else. Then I noticed the whing of bullets, anddust spots knocked up, and felt the same sort of feeling that one haswhile waiting to start for a race, only with an added chill andthrill. 

The guns unlimbered, and came into action against the kopje, and weand the limbers trotted about 300 yards back, and are waiting therenow. A gunner and a driver slightly wounded, and some horses hit. Onebullet broke our wheel-driver's whip. Our shrapnel are burstingbeautifully over the Boer lines. 

_(Later. )_--We have just taken our waggon up to the firing line, andbrought back an empty one with our team. 

_(Later. )_--We have been back to the convoy, and refilled the emptywaggon from the reserve, and are back again. The Boers seem to bedislodged from the ridge, and infantry have occupied it. I hear someBoers made for a farm, but we plumped a shell right into it, and theyfled. The convoy is now coming on, and crossing the drift withdiscordant yells. Infantry and mounted infantry pressing on bothflanks. Our guns have taken up another position farther on. TheCaptain asked after the broken whip, and told us we could not havegone into action better. He has been riding about all day on hisstumpy little Argentine, radiant and beaming, with his eternal pipe inhis mouth!

_(Later. )_--We marched on a few miles, and bivouacked, while the wholeconvoy slowly trailed in, and formed up in laager. This operation, andthe business of posting the troops for the night, is horribly tedious. It has to be done in the dark, and one is continually mounting anddismounting, and moving on a bit, and making impossible wheels roundmules and waggons. Probably we get too small a space allotted, and thehorses are all jammed together in the picket-lines, causing a vastloss of temper at unharnessing. After unharnessing and feeding horses, which you have to look sharp about, or you will miss coffee, every onecrowds round the cook's fire, and looks with hungry eyes at the pots. Coffee or tea, biscuits and tinned meat, are served out. You areravenous, as you have lived on chance scraps during the day. Then youmake your bed, stretching your blankets behind your harness, standinga saddle on end, and putting a feed-bag behind it for a pillow. Nextmorning's feeds have first to be made up, and then you sleep like alog, if you can, that is. I generally have to get up at least once, and walk about for the cold. Fellows who are lucky enough to have fuelmake small fires (an anthill provides a natural stove), and cook soup, but it's hard to spare the water, which is as precious as gold in thiscountry. Besides, drivers are badly placed for such luxuries; theirwork is only begun when camp is reached, while gunners can go off andfind beds under waggons, etc. It is the same all day, except, ofcourse, in action, when the gunners have all the work. At all halts wehave to be watching a pair of horses, which have manifold ways oftormenting one. To begin with, they are always hungry, because theyget little oats and no hay. One of mine amuses himself by chewing allleather-work in his reach, especially that on the traces, and has tobe incessantly worried out of it. The poor brutes are standing all thetime on rich pasture, and try vainly to graze. They are not allowedto, as it involves taking out big bits, undoing wither straps, etc. , and you have to be ready to start at a moment's notice. There arethousands of acres of rich pasture all about, vast undeveloped wealth. Farms are very few and far between; mostly dismal-looking stonehouses, without a trace of garden or adornment of any sort. There wasa load off all our minds this night, for the H. A. C. Had at last beenin action and under fire. All went well and steadily. My friendRamsey, the lead-driver of our team, brushed his teeth at the usualintervals. I don't believe anything on earth would interfere with himin this most admirable duty. He does it with miraculous dexterity andrapidity at the oddest moments, saying it rests him!

_June 27. _--Up at 3. 45 and harnessed, but it was almost dawn beforeour unwieldy convoy creaked and groaned into motion. We are rearguardto-day, with some Yeomanry, Australians, and Buffs, but just now wewere ordered up to the front, trotted past the whole convoy, and arenow in action; limbers and waggons halted behind a rise. The Boershave guns in action to-day, and a shell of theirs has just burst about400 yards to our right, and others are falling somewhere near the gunsahead. It seems to be chiefly an artillery duel so far, but acrackling rifle fire is going on in the distance. 

_(Midday. )_--The convoy is closing up and getting into a sort ofsquare. We have changed positions several times. Shells have fallenpretty close, but have done no damage. Some of them burst, others onlyraise a cloud of dust. We are already getting used to them, but thefirst that fell made us all very silent, and me, at any rate, veryuncomfortable. Later we relieved ourselves by a rather overstrainedinterest in their probable direction and point of impact. We werestanding waiting, of course, with no excitement to distract our minds. 

_(2 P. M. )_--A curious feature in the scene is the presence of veldtfires all over the place, long lines of dry grass blazing. Possiblythe Boers start them to hide their movements. The Boers evidently wantthis convoy; they are right round our rear and on both flanks; all ourtroops are engaged. The convoy is being moved on, and my section isleft as rear-guard. The smoke of burning grass has blotted out thesun, and it is cold. The sun is a red ball, as on a foggy day inLondon. Shells have ceased to fall here, but a hill on the left isbeing heavily shelled by the enemy, and the infantry on it are inretreat. 

_(4 P. M. )_--We are slowly getting on, covering the convoy's rear, theenemy pressing hard. Our guns are now firing over our dismountedtroops. Williams has just ridden up. He has been orderly to theCaptain; a shell fell just by his horse without bursting. I have beenfearfully sleepy, and have snatched a few minutes of oblivion, duringhalts, on the ground by my horses, who are as tired as I am, poorbeasts. 

_(Written later. )_--The Boers, as it seemed to me (but what does oneknow?), had us in a very tight place, but they never pressed hometheir attack, and the convoy was rushed through the remaining sevenmiles to Lindley. We covered its retirement till dark, and thenfollowed it with all speed. I shan't forget those seven miles. Theyincluded the worst drifts of the whole journey, and getting up anddown them in pitch-dark was unpleasant work and a pretty severe testof driving. Three mule-waggons of the convoy had to be abandoned atone place, but the rest of it reached Lindley safely, as did we. Itwas rather like making a port after a storm when the lights appearedand a bugle blowing "first post" was heard. We passed some silenthouses, groped into an open space, picketed horses, chucked offharness, and slept by it, dog-tired. We had hoped for a good night'srest, but, the last thing, orders went round for reveillé at four. 

_June 28. _--It was icy cold at 4 A. M. , and one's fingers could hardlycope with straps and links. I had done one horse, when welcome orderscame that my waggon was not wanted. So I sat by the cook's fire andcooked in the lid of my mess-tin a slice of meat I had hastily hackedfrom an ox's carcase at our last camp. Also some Maggi soup. Aboutsunrise the limbers returned, having left the guns and gunners inposition on a hill somewhere, where they shot at any Boers they saw, and were sniped at themselves. A slack day for the rest of us, and Ihad a good sleep. Of course we are all delighted that the days ofwaiting are over, and that we have had fighting and been of use. Everything has gone well, and without a single hitch, and we werecongratulated by the Brigadier. As for De Wet, the plucky Boer who isfighting down here, now that his cause is hopeless, we have sworn toget him to London and give him a dinner and a testimonial for givingus the chance of a fight. 

Of course the whole affair was trivial enough, and I don't supposewill ever figure in the papers, though it was interesting enough tous. I should be sorry to have to describe what went on as a whole. Ijust wrote what was under my eye during halts, and to grasp the planof the thing, when distances are so great and the enemy so invisible, is impossible. But, as far as I could see, it was pretty well managed. We had no casualties yesterday, chiefly owing to shells not bursting. The Infantry and Yeomanry had some killed and wounded, but I don'tknow the numbers. Some of the Boer practice was excellent. Once wewatched them shell some Infantry on a kopje, every shell falling cleanand true on the top and reverse edge of it. The Infantry had to quit. But on the whole I was at a loss to understand their artillerytactics, which seemed desultory and irresolute. They would get ourrange or that of the convoy and then cease firing, never concentratingtheir fire on a definite point. Their ammunition too was evidently ofan inferior quality. I saw no shrapnel fired. It is all very novel, laborious, exciting, hungry work, and perhaps the strangest sensationof all is one's passive ignorance of all that is happening beyondone's own narrow sphere of duty. An odd discovery is that one has somuch leisure, as a driver, when in action. There is plenty of time towrite one's diary when waiting with the teams. One pleasant thing isthe change felt in the relaxation of the hard-and-fast regulations ofa standing camp. Anything savouring of show or ceremonial, allneedless _minutiæ_ of routine, disappear naturally. It is businessnow, and everything is judged by the standard of common-sense. 

The change of life since we left Bloemfontein has been complete; notents, no washing, no undressing, only biscuit and tinned-meat forfood, and not too much of that, very little sleep, etc. ; but we haveall enjoyed it, for it is the real thing at last. The lack of waterwas the only really trying thing, and the cold at night. We had freshmeat for supper this night from a sheep commandeered on the march, andweren't we ravenous! Another very cold night, but the joyful ordersfor reveillé at 7 A. M. 

_June 29. _--"Stables" and harness-cleaning all the morning. In theafternoon we were sent to graze our horses outside the town with awarning to look out for sniping. As I write I am sitting under a rock, the reins secured to one of my legs, which accounts for bad writing. Lindley is below, a mere little village with a few stores, whichnevertheless was for a proud week the capital of the Free State. Forsome time past it has been closely besieged by the Boers, and entirelydependent on one or two armed convoys like ours. The Boers have beenshelling the town most days, and fighting goes on outside nearly everyday. The day before we relieved it the Boers made an effort to takeit, and our Infantry lost heavily. There was a garrison of about athousand, I think, before we came. There is nothing eatable to bebought at any price, and no communication with the outside world, except by despatch-riders. I was talking yesterday to two Yeomanryfellows who had escaped from one of the Boer commandos. They had livedentirely on fresh meat, and were devouring dog-biscuit by our cook'sfire like famished terriers. They said they had been well treated. 

_June 30. _--Not much rest was allowed us. Reveillé was at 4 A. M. , withorders for our section, under Lieutenant Bailey, to march half-way toKroonstadt again, as part of an escort for a return convoy carryingsick and wounded. 

Started at five with Yeomanry, Bushmen, and Buffs, as before, but weredelayed two hours outside town, waiting for some traction-engines, which puffed asthmatically at the bottom of a drift, unable to get up. Marched rapidly for sixteen miles (most of the country burnt by veldtfires), over the same difficult road, and (for a luxury) encampedwhile it was still light. Washed in a river with great zest. Freshmutton for supper. Turned in with orders for reveillé at 4 A. M. But at11. 30 P. M. We were all awakened by "Come on, get up and harness up. ""Why, what's the time?" "11. 30. " However, up we got, not knowing why, tossed on harness, and started straight away back for Lindley, supposing they were being attacked. It was a hard march over thosedetestable drifts, in pitch dark and freezing cold, with one halt onlyof ten minutes. The centre driver has a trying time in bad places ofthe road, for at steep bits on the down grade, if the wheelers get atall out of control, he has the pole bearing down on him, eitherpunching his horses and making them kick, or probing for vulnerableplaces in his own person. He has the responsibility of keeping histraces just so that they are not slack, and yet that the horses arenot in draught and pulling the gun or waggon down. The lead-driver hasto pick the road and, with one eye on the gun just ahead, to judge apace which will suit the wheel-driver, who at such moments must have afairly free hand. All three live always in a fierce glare of criticismfrom the gunners riding behind, who in their nasty moments are apt todraw abusive comparisons between the relative dangers of shell-fireand riding on a waggon. By the way, there is always a healthyantagonism between gunners and drivers. When one class speaks of theother there is generally an adjective prefixed. 

_July 1. _--_Sunday. _--We marched into camp before dawn blear-eyed andhungry, to find to our disgust that there was no hurry after all. Itseems an order had been received for the whole Battery to march awaythis morning, to join some column or other, so they sent a messengerto recall us. Meanwhile a countermanding order came to "Stand fast. "So here I am, at 8 A. M. , sitting against my harness in the blessedsunlight, warm, fed, sleepy, and rather irritated. What is going tohappen I don't know. It's no use writing the rumours. 

_(Later. )_--A sudden order to harness up. Did so, and were all ready, when we were told to take it off again. It seems General Clements hascome up near here with a division, and they want to finish off De Wetat once. A quiet day. I foraged in the town in the afternoon, but gotnothing, though I heard of mealy biscuits at one cottage. 

Later on we found a cottage kept by an Englishwoman, who gave usdelicious tea at 6d. A cup, and again in the evening porridge at 6d. Aplate. There was a number of mixed soldiers in there, all packed roundthe room, which was dark and smoky, and full also of squallingchildren. The way she kept her temper and fed us was wonderful. It issafe to say that nowadays one can always eat any amount at any time ofday. The service biscuit is the best of its kind, I daresay, but notvery satisfying, and meat is not plentiful. We have never yet been onfull rations. Five is the full number of biscuits. We generally getthree or four. Sometimes the meat-ration is a "Maconochie, " which is atin of preserved meat and vegetables of a very juicy and fatty nature, most fascinating when you first know it, but apt to grow tinny andchemical to the palate. 

CHAPTER VI. 

BETHLEHEM. 

_July 2. _--Reveillé 5 A. M. Harnessed up, and afterwards marched outand joined a column of troops under General Paget. We have with ussome Yorkshire Light Infantry, Munster Fusiliers, Yeomanry, Bushmen, and the 38th Field Battery. Where we are going we don't know, but Isuppose after De Wet. [A]

[Footnote A: Without knowing it at the time, we were joining inGeneral Hunter's big enveloping movement, by which all the scatteredcommandos in this part of the Free State were to be driven into themountains on the Basuto border and there surrounded. Paget's brigade(the 20th) was part of the cordon, which was gradually drawn closer bythe concentric marches of columns under him, and General Clements, Rundle, Boyes, Bruce Hamilton, and Hunter himself. The climax was thesurrender of about 5000 Boers under Prinsloo at Fouriesberg on July29, a success much impaired by the escape of De Wet from thefast-closing trap. For the sake of clearness I append this note; but Ileave my diary as I wrote it, when our knowledge of events rarely wentbeyond a foggy speculation. ]

_(8. 30 A. M. )_--We have marched for about two hours to the top of arange of hills which surrounds the town; there is firing on the rightand left, and the Infantry are advancing in extended order. Our rightsection has just gone into action. A big drove of wild-looking Boerponies has come stampeding up to the column with some of our mountedmen vainly trying to corner them. 

_(1. 30 P. M. )_--The battle is, as usual, unintelligible to the humbleunit, but the force is advancing slowly, the Yorkshire Light Infantryand Munster Fusiliers on either hand of us. Our section is in actionnow. We have just taken our waggon to the firing line and brought backthe team. The corporal's horse stepped in a hole just as we werereaching the guns and turned a complete somersault. He is all right, but his was our second mishap, as the near wheeler fell earlier in theday, and the driver was dragged some yards before we could stop. Theground is very dangerous, full of holes, some of them deep andhalf-covered with grass. Another driver is up, but the former is onlya bit shaken, I think. Our section has silenced a Boer gun in threeshots, at 4200 yards, a good bit of work, and a credit to LieutenantBailey as a judge of range. The right section also cleared the kopjethey fired at, but had a narrow escape afterwards, coming suddenly, when on the move, under the fire of Boer guns, of whose presence theywere ignorant, the shells falling thick but not bursting. Bivouackedat four on the veldt. The Boers had retired from the line they held. Along ride to water after unharnessing; nothing much to eat. Williamsand I have taken to ending the day by boiling tea (from tablets) overthe embers of the cook's fire, or on one of our own if we have anyfuel, which is very seldom. How the cooks get their wood is a mysteryto me. The Kaffir drivers always have it, too, though there are novisible trees. We always seem to sit up late, short though our nightsare. A chilly little group gathers sleepily round the embers, watchingmess-tins full of nondescript concoctions balanced cunningly in thehot corners, and gossiping of small camp affairs or large strategicalmovements of which we know nothing. The brigade camp-fires twinklefaintly through the gloom. A line of veldt-fire is sure to be glowingin the distance, looking like the lights of a sea-side town as seenfrom the sea. The only sound is of mules shuffling and jingling roundthe waggons. 

The "cook-house" is still the source of rumours, which are wonderfullyvaried. There is much vague talk now of General Clements and a brigadebeing connected somehow with our operations. But we know as little ofthe game we are playing as pawns on the chessboard. Our tea is strong, milkless, and sugarless, but I always go to sleep the instant I liedown, even if I am restless with the cold later. 

_July 3. _--Reveillé at 4. 30. Our section, under Lieutenant Bailey, started at once for a steep kopje looming dimly about three milesaway. The right section, with the Major and Captain, left us and wentto another one. We had a tough job getting our guns and waggons up. 

_(8 A. M. )_--Just opening fire now. A Boer gun is searching the valleyon our left, but they can't see the limbers and waggons. 

_(8. 30. )_--The Boers seem to have some special dislike to our waggon. They have just placed two shells, one fifty yards in front of it, andthe other fifty yards behind; one of them burst on impact, the otherdidn't. The progress of a shell sounds far off like the hum of amosquito, rising as it nears to a hoarse screech, and then "plump. " Wemind them very little now. There is great competition for thefragments, as "curios. " It is cold, grey, and sunless today. Lastnight there was heavy rain, and our blankets are wet still. It seemsthe Boers are firing a Krupp at 7000 yards; our guns are only sightedup to 5000 yards, but we have managed to reach them by sinking thetrail in the ground, and other devices. 

_(12. 30 P. M. )_--A long halt here, with nothing doing. The Boer gun hasceased to fire, and we call it "silenced, " possibly with truth, butthe causes of silence are never quite certain. As far as I can makeout, it was on the extreme left of their position, while our mainattack is threatening their centre. It is raining hard, but we havemade a roaring fire of what is the chief fuel in this country, drycow-dung, and have made cocoa in our mess-tins, from a tin sent me amonth ago; also soup, out of the scrapings of Maconochie tins. 

----. What seemed likely to be a dull day turned out very exciting. About two a staff officer came up with orders, and we marched downfrom our kopje and attacked another one[A] (which I made out to betheir centre), taking up several positions in quick succession. TheBoers had a gun on the kopje, which we dislodged, and the infantrytook the position. (About 2. 30 it began to rain again and poured allthe afternoon in cold, slashing torrents. ) We finally went up thekopje ourselves, over a shocking bit of rocky ground near the top, fired on the retreating Boers from there, and then came down on theother side. Soon afterwards came an old story. It was about five, andhad cleared up. A staff officer had said that there were no Boersanywhere near now, and that we were to march on and bivouac. We andthe Munsters and some Yeomanry were marching down a valley, whoseflanks were supposed to have been scouted, the infantry in column ofcompanies, that is, in close formation, and all in apparent security. Suddenly a storm of rifle-fire broke out from a ridge on our rightfront and showed us we were ambushed. The Munsters were nearest to theridge, about 600 yards, I should say. We were a bit further off. Iheard a sort of hoarse murmur go up from the close mass of infantry, and saw it boil, so to speak, and spread out. Our section checked fora moment, in a sort of bewilderment (my waggon was close behind ourgun at the time), but the next, and almost without orders, guns wereunlimbered and whisked round, a waggon unhooked, teams trotting away, and shrapnel bursting over the top of the ridge in quick succession. All this time the air was full of a sound like the moaning of windfrom the bullets flying across the valley, but strange to say, not aman of us was hit. Some of them were explosive bullets. The wholething was soon over. Our guns peppered their quickest, and it was atreat to see the shrapnel bursting clean and true along the ridge. Theinfantry extended and lay down; some Yeomanry made a flank move, andthat episode was over. It might have been serious, though. If they hadheld their fire undiscovered for ten minutes longer we might have beenbadly cut up, for we were steadily nearing the spur which theyoccupied. It is right to say, though, that our Lieutenant, havingdoubts about the safety of the place, had shortly before sent forwardground-scouts, of whom Williams was one, who would possibly have beenable to warn us in time. Needless to say, it was not our duty to scoutfor the column. 

[Footnote A: The name of this kopje was Barking Kop, I believe, and wehave since always applied it generally to the fighting on this day. ]

It was nearly dark now, a burning farm ahead making a hot glow in thesky, and we moved off to join the rest of the column with its unwieldybaggage-train and convoy, and all camped together, after the usualtedious ride to water horses at a muddy pool. They had had a very hardday and had done well, but were very tired. On days like this theyoften get no water till evening. A feed is ordered when a freeinterval seems likely, but the chances are that it is snatched off, and their bits thrust in again, half-way through. When we got in andrejoined our right section, all were full of a serious mishap to the38th Field Battery, with which they had been acting on the left flank. Both were in action in adjoining fields, when a party of Boers creptup unseen and got within fifty yards of the 38th guns, shooting downmen and horses. The 38th behaved splendidly, but all their officerswere killed or wounded, a number of gunners, and many horses. Two gunswere for a time in the hands of the Boers, who, I believe, removed thetangent sights. It appears that the M. I. Escort of the Battery, owing, I suppose, to some misunderstanding, retreated. The situation wassaved by Captain Budworth, of our Battery, who collected and broughtup some mounted infantry, whether Yeomanry or Bushmen I am not clearabout. They beat the Boers off, and our teams helped to take the gunsout of action. We came off all right, with only one gunner slightlywounded. 

I was desperately hungry, and only coffee was issued, but later asheep's carcase turned up from somewhere, and I secured a leg, andWilliams some chops, which we promptly laid as they were on one of theniggers' wood fires and ate in our fingers ravenously. The leg I alsocooked and kept for to-day (I am writing on the morning of the 4th), and it is hanging on my saddle. I was rather sleepless last night, owing to cramp from a drenched blanket, and got up about midnight andwalked over to the remains of one of our niggers' fires. Crouchingover the embers I found a bearded figure, which hoarsely denounced mefor coming to its fire. I explained that it was _our_ fire, but thathe was welcome, and settled down to thaw. It turned out to be asergeant of the 38th Battery. I asked something, and he began a longrambling soliloquy about things in general, in a thick voice, with hisbeard almost in the fire, scarcely aware of my presence. I can'treproduce it faithfully, because of the language, but it dealt withthe war, which he thought would end next February, and the differencebetween Boer and British methods, and how our cavalry go along, heelsdown, toes in, arms close to side, eyes front, all according toregulation, keeping distance regardless of ground, while the Boercares nothing as long as he gets there and does his work. He finishedwith the gloomy prophecy that if we didn't join Clements to-morrow weshould never "get out of this. " Not knowing who or where Clements was, I asked him about the affair of that day, and produced a growlingstorm of expletives; then he muttered something about the VictoriaCross and driving a team out of action, asked the way to his lines, towhich I carefully directed him, and drifted off in the oppositedirection. 

By the way, this General Clements seems to be a myth, and the talk nowis of Rundle and Ian Hamilton, who are supposed to be getting round DeWet from other quarters, while we drive him up this way into theirarms. It is said we are going to Bethlehem. I forgot an importantevent of the evening in the arrival of a bag of mails, parcels only, brought by a convoy from Kroonstadt, which has just come in. To mydelight I got one with a shirt and socks (which I at once put on overthe others), cigarettes (a long exhausted luxury), Liebig, preciousfor evening soup, and chocolate, almost too good to eat for fear ofgetting discontented. We are on half rations of biscuit, which meansthree, and a tin of Maconochie each, a supply about enough to whetyour appetite for one meal in a life like this, but it has to last theday of about seventeen hours. The ration is issued the night before, to eat as we please, and, of course, there is coffee soon afterreveillé, and tea in the evening. There is a cupful of porridge alsowith the coffee, paid for by deduction from our pay, so that onestarts in good fettle. I don't know why the whole column shouldn't getfresh meat every day, for the country is teeming with cattle, whichare collected and driven along with the column in huge herds. Many ofthe farmhouses are smoking ruins, the enemy, after annexation, beingrebels according to law, and not belligerents; but it seems to me thatsuch a policy is to use a legal fiction for an oppressive end, for itis quite clear that this part of the Orange River Colony has neverbeen conquered. [A]

[Footnote A: I leave this as I wrote it, but drivers are notpoliticians, and doubtless there were special circumstances, such astreachery, concealed arms or sniping, to justify what at the best mustbe a doubtful policy; for a burnt farm means a desperate farmer. ]

_July 4. _--_Wednesday. _--Up at five after a bitterly cold night, butthere was a long delay before starting. We are rear-guard to-day. Justbefore leaving an infantry man shot himself while cleaning his rifle. There was a little buzz and stir, and then all was quiet again. He wasburied in half an hour. 

A dull day's marching. After about ten miles we halted to water horsesand rest. While watering, the Boers sent over a futile shell from abig gun. On return we unhooked and grazed the horses. Things lookedpeaceful, and there was a warm sun, so I ventured to unstrap mykit-roll and spread my blankets out to dry. They were still wet fromthe rain of two nights ago. I had scarcely spread them out when "Hookin" was shouted, and back they had to go, half-folded, in a perilouslyloose bundle. (You can never count on five minutes, but it's worthtrying. ) At about 4. 30 we and the 38th Battery trotted ahead about amile and a half, and began shelling a ridge; but I think it was soonabandoned, for shortly after we limbered up and camped with the restof the brigade, which had followed us. I am "stableman" to-day forthree days. On the march this involves drawing sacks of forage fromthe Quartermaster Sergeant in the early morning and late evening, andserving out the oats to the drivers of the sub-division. It is not soirksome a duty as in a standing camp, but has its trying moments; forinstance, when drivers are busied with bed-making or cocoa-cooking inthe evening, and are deaf to your shouts of "D drivers, roll up foryour feeds!" a camp-cry which has not half the effect of "Roll up foryour coffee!" or, more electrical still, "Roll up for your rum!"

_July 5. _--We were up at 4. 30, but as usual had to stand by our horsesfor over an hour, freezing our feet in the frosty grass beforestarting. Harnessing up with numbed fingers in the dark was a tryingjob. My harness sheets were stiff as boards with frozen dew, and I hadto stamp them into shape for packing. I had a warm night, though. Mybed is made thus: I place the two saddles on end, at the rightdistance for the length of my body, and facing inwards, that is, withthe seats outwards; I leave the horse-blankets strapped on underneaththem, as there is not much time to re-fold and re-strap them in themorning, and my head (pillowed on two feed-bags filled overnight forthe early morning feed) goes in the hollow of one saddle, between thefolds of the blanket, and my feet in the hollow of the other. The restof each set of harness is heaped behind each saddle, and when theharness-sheets are spread over each set there is enough for the endsto lap over and make a roof for the head, and also for the feet. ThenI wrap myself in my two blankets, and if an oatsack is obtainable, first get my feet into that. My waterproof sheet serves ascounterpane. It is not wanted as a mattress, as no dew falls till themorning, and the ground is dry at bed-time. After rain, of course, ithas to go beneath one. The great point is to keep your blankets as dryas you can, for, once wet with dew or rain, they remain wet, since weboth start and arrive in the dark, and thus cannot count on dryingthem. It is a good plan before turning in to see that the horses inthe lines near you are securely tied up, as it is vexatious to bewalked on in the night by a heavy artillery horse; also to have allyour kit and belongings exactly where you can lay hands on them in thedark. At reveillé, which, by the way, takes the shape of a rude shakefrom the picket of the night (there is no trumpet used incampaigning), you shiver out of your nest, the Sergeant-Major'swhistle blows, and you at once feed your horses. Then you pack youroff-saddle, rolling the ground-sheet, blankets, and harness-sheet, with the muzzles, surcingle-pads, hay-nets, etc. , and strapping theroll on the saddle. Then you harness as fast as you can (generallyhelped by a gunner), make up two fresh feeds and tie them up innose-bags on the saddle, and put on your belt, haversack, water-bottle, and other accoutrements. In the middle of this therewill be a cry of "D coffee up!" and you drop everything and run withthe crowd for your life to get that precious fluid, and the porridge, if there is any. You bolt them in thirty seconds, and run back tostrap your mess-tin on your saddle, put the last touches to yourharness, and hook in the team. Of course we sleep in our cloaks, andwear them till about eight, when the sun gets strength. Then we seizea chance to roll them at a halt, and strap them in front of the ridingsaddle. 

To return to to-day. It has been very inconclusive and unsatisfactory. We have marched about twelve miles, I think, with some long halts, inone of which we unhooked and rode to a pool some distance off to waterhorses. I have been fearfully sleepy all day. Two guns of the 38thBattery have joined us, and we march as a six-gun battery under MajorMcMicking. They have no officers fit for duty, and our Captain looksafter them. In the evening some shrapnel began bursting on a ridgeahead, and we went up and fired a bit; but I suppose the Boersdecamped, for we soon after halted for the night. It is said that themythical Clements is now one march behind us, our scouts having metto-day, and that Bethlehem is three miles ahead, strongly held by DeWet. Other mythical generals are in the air. I am getting used to thestate of blank ignorance in which we live. Perfect sunset in a clearsky. One of the charms of Africa is the long settled periods of pureunclouded sky, in which the sun rises and sets with no flamingsplashes of vivid colours, but by gentle, imperceptible gradations ofpure light, waning or waxing. And as for rain, when it is once over itis thoroughly over (at this season, at any rate). This night thedarkness was soon lit up by a flaming farm. All desperately hungry, when it was announced that an extra ration of raw meat was to beserved out. If I can't cook it, shall I eat it raw? To-morrow's rationis a pound of fresh cooked meat, instead of the eternal Maconochie. Itwas drawn to-night, and looked so good that I ate half of it at once, thus yielding to an oft-recurring temptation. Orders for reveillé atseven. Great joy. 

_July 6. _--Reveillé was marked by a Boer shell coming over the camp, followed by others in quick succession, real good bursting shrapnel, arare thing for the Boers to possess, but they came from a long rangeand burst too high. Nobody took the least notice, and we went onharnessing and breakfasting as usual. It is strange how soon one getsa contempt for shells. In about half an hour the firing stopped. Wehooked in, but unhooked again, and rode to water. There is some delay;waiting for Clements, perhaps. I write this sitting by my horses in ahot sun, with the water frozen to a solid lump in the bottle at myback, through the felt cover, and after being under a harness sheetall the night. Had a jolly talk with some Paddies of the MunsterFusiliers, about Ireland, etc. They were miserable, "fed up, " butmerry; that strange combination one sees so much of out here. Theytalked about the revels they would have when they got home, the beef, bacon, and stout, but chiefly stout. We have already learnt to respectand admire the infantry of our brigade, and I think the confidence ismutual. (Starting. )

_(4. 30). _--We have had a hard day's marching a long distance out onthe right flank. There is a biggish battle proceeding. 

I think Clements's brigade has joined ours, for our front is somemiles in length, with the wavy lines of khaki figures advancing slowlyand steadily, covered by artillery fire. The 38th are with us. We havebeen in action several times in successive positions, but the chiefattack seems to be on a steep conical kopje in the centre, behind andbelow which lies Bethlehem, I believe. It is just dark, but heavyrifle-firing is still going on in front. One of our gunners has beenshot in the knee. We camped near our last firing position, but waiteda long time for our transport and its precious freight of cooks and"dickseys" (camp-kettles). Williams and I ruthlessly chopped downparts of a very good fence, and made a fire with the wood and a lot ofdry mealy stalks, which burn furiously. Then we and Ramsey cooked ourmeat in our mess-tin lids, and made cocoa with water which Ramseyfetched from some distance. It was a thick brown fluid, and frozewhile we were waiting to put it on, but it tasted excellent. 

_July 7. _--Reveillé at 3. 45. We marched out about a mile and waitedfor the dawn. 

_7 A. M. _--At first dawn firing began, and we went into action at once, as did the whole line of infantry. A tremendous fusillade of shellsand bullets is now being poured upon the position in front, andchiefly on the central conical kopje. My waggon is halted, waiting togo up. The sun is just getting strength, warming our numbed feet, andspiriting away the white frost-mantle that the land always wears atdawn. 

_(3 P. M. ). _--Guns, Maxims, and rifles hailed lead into the Boertrenches for a long time, and then the infantry seized them, and theBoers retired. The practice of the 38th and our guns seemed to me tobe very good. We have also a five-inch lyddite gun (Clements broughtit), which sent up huge clouds of brown dust where the shell struck. We have now advanced over very heavy ground to the late Boer position, halted, and ridden some way to water down a precipitous slope, into along, rocky hollow. From this point the country seems to changeentirely to steep, rocky hills and hollows, rising and increasing tothe whole Drakensberg range, which is blue and craggy on the sky-line. They say the Boers have evacuated Bethlehem with a baggage train threemiles long. I don't know why we are not following them up. Perhaps themounted infantry are. Our horses are done up. It was cruel workspurring and lashing them over heavy ploughed land to-day. 

_July 8. _--Rest at last. It is Sunday morning, and we are all lying orsitting about, bathed in warm sunshine, waiting for orders, but itseems we shan't move to-day. My blankets are all spread out, getting amuch-wanted drying, but what I chiefly want is a wash. I have hadthree imperfect ones since leaving Bloemfontein and one shave, and myboots off for about ten minutes now and then. 

_(3 P. M. ). _--Nothing on to-day. I have had a wash in a thimbleful ofwater, and shaved, and feel another man. They gave us an hour ofstables, but the horses certainly needed it, as they never get groomednow, and are a shaggy, scraggy-looking lot. I'm glad to say mine arequite free from galls and sore backs. As one never sees their backs bydaylight, it is interesting to get a good look at them at last. Theyare very liable to sore backs (partly owing to the weight of themilitary saddle), if there is any carelessness in folding the blanketbeneath the saddle. It has been a real hot day, and yet there wasthick ice on the pool we watered at this morning. 

As to yesterday, it appears that De Wet and his army effected a saferetreat, but our General was pleased with the day's work, andcongratulated us and the 38th. We put one Boer gun at least completelyout of action, and it was captured by the infantry. The infantry lostbut few that day, but rather heavily the day before, especially theMunsters. Paget is already very popular with us. We trust hisgeneralship and we like the man, for he seems to be one of us, afrank, simple soldier, who thinks of every man in his brigade as acomrade. I understand now what an enormous difference this makes tomen in the ranks. A chance word of praise dropped in our hearing, ajoking remark during a hot fight (repeated affectionately over everycamp-fire at night), any little touch of nature that obliterates rank, and makes man and general "chums" for the moment; such trifles have aneffect on one's spirits which I could never have believed possible, ifI had not felt their charm. I wonder if officers know it, but it takesnothing for them to endear themselves to men. 

It seems to be beyond doubt that our guns are a success, but theirspecial ammunition is a source of great difficulty. We have stacks ofit at Bloemfontein, but cannot carry much about with us, and of coursethe ammunition column with its fifteen-pounder shells is of no use tous. We have been short after every action, and have to depend onprecarious waggonfuls, coming by convoy from somewhere on the railway. They say General Hunter and a division is concentrating here too, anda large force is visible in the valley, marching up. They are floodingus with fresh meat to-day, by way of a change. It is said that Pagethas ordered a certain number of sheep and cattle to be slaughtereddaily for the brigade. 

_(Later). _--I had scarcely written the above lines when the order cameto harness up at once. We did so, and were soon off; the sectionsseparated, ours making for a steep hill about three miles away, onwhich we were ordered to take post. It was an awkward climb in thegathering darkness, with drag-ropes on the upper wheels, when movingalong a very steep slope. A final rush of frantic collar work, and wewere on a flat plateau, where we unlimbered the guns, so as to commandthe valley, and camped near them. I was on picket duty this night, andquite enjoyed it, though I had one three-hour spell at a go. It waswarmer than usual, with a bonnie moon in a clear sky, a dozenveldt-fires reddening in the distance, mysterious mists wreathingabout the valley beneath, and the glowing embers of a good wood-fireon which to cook myself some Maggi soup. 

CHAPTER VII. 

BULTFONTEIN. 

_July 9. _--A delicious, warm day. Reveillé at six. I am afraid itlooks as if we were to be kept on this lonely hill-top for some time. It's true we deserve a rest, for we have been on the move for sometime; but I would much prefer to march on and see the last of De Wet. After campaigning, the routine of a standing camp seems dull andirksome. We have just shifted our camp a few hundred yards, bringingit to the very brow of the hill, which drops straight down into thevalley. In fact, it is below the brow, and the horses are on a mostawkward slant. The Munsters are camped just above us. Below, and abouttwo miles away, lies Bethlehem, with hills behind it, and the mountainrange mistily seen behind all. Unlike Lindley, this is the first timeBethlehem has been occupied by the British. Williams has just come infrom a foraging expedition he was sent on. He got mealy flour for thebattery, and a chicken for ourselves, and had had cigarettes andmarmalade with the Lifeguards, who, with the whole of Hunter'sdivision, are camped near here. He also got some Kaffir bread from akraal, a damp, heavy composition, which, however, is very good whenfried in fat in thin slices. We ate our tea sitting on rocksoverlooking the valley, and at dark a marvellous spectacle began forour entertainment, a sight which Crystal-Palace-goers would givehalf-a-crown for a front place to see. As I have said, all day longthere are casual veldt-fires springing up in this country. Just nowtwo or three began down in the valley, tracing fine golden lines inspirals and circles. The grass is short, so that there is no greatblaze, but the effect is that of some great unseen hand writingcabalistic sentences (perhaps the "Mene, Mene" of De Wet!), with a pendipped in fire. This night there was scarcely a breath of wind todetermine the track of the fires, or quicken their speed, and theywound and intersected at their own caprice, describing fantastic arcsand curves from which one could imagine pictures and letters. Thevalley gradually became full of a dull, soft glow, and overhung withred, murky smoke, through which the moon shone down with the strangestmingling of diverse lights. Very suddenly a faint breeze began to blowin from the valley directly towards our camp. At once the aimlesstraceries of fine flame seemed to concentrate into a long resoluteline, and a wave of fire, roaring as it approached, gained the foot ofthe hill, and began to climb it towards us. Watchful eyes had been onthe lookout. "Drivers, stand to your horses, " was shouted. "Out withyour blankets, men, " to our gunners and the infantry behind, and in aninstant the chosen sons of Cork were bounding out of their lines anddown the hill, and belabouring the fire with blankets andground-sheets and sacks. They seemed to think it a fine joke, andraised a pæan of triumph when it was got under. "Wan more victory, " Iheard one say. 

_July 10. _--Slack day, most of it spent in grazing the horses. Forthis duty each man takes four horses, so that only half of us need go;but on the other hand, if you stay, you may come in for a "fatigue, "which it requires some insight to predict. Beyond that, our wholeenergies were concentrated on cooking our meals, raw meat only beingserved out. Williams and I borrowed a camp-kettle from the Munsters, and cooked our mutton with a pumpkin which we had commandeered. Theweather is a good deal warmer. We are camped near the scene of a hardstand made by the Boers, dotted with trenches and little heaps ofcartridge-cases, and also unused cartridges. I found one completepacket sewn up in canvas roughly and numbered. In most cases they areLee-Metfords, and not Mausers. The Boers have, of course, capturedquantities of our rifles and ammunition in convoy "mishaps" of variousdates. Spent the evening in trying cooking experiments with mealyflour and some Neave's Food, which one of us had. One longs for achange of diet from biscuit and plain meat, which, without vegetables, never seem to satisfy. Even salt has been lacking till to-day, andporridge has ceased. It was announced that a convoy was to leave forKroonstadt the same night, taking wounded and mails, and I hurriedlywrote two notes. I am afraid we are here for some time. I wish I couldhear from Henry. 

_July 11. _--Reveillé at 6. 30. Stables, grazing, exercise, and morestables, till 1. 30, and grazing again in the afternoon. Sat up late atnight over embers of cook's fire, talking to a Munster sergeant aboutthe last two days' fighting and other experiences of his. They hadthirty-two casualties on the second day, including four officerswounded. All sorts of rumours to-day: that we stop a month on thishill; that we go to Capetown on Friday; that we march to Harrismithand Durban in a few days, etc. , etc. 

_July 12. _--At breakfast, mealy porridge was served out with thecoffee. It is eatable, but not pleasant without sugar. 

Williams and I got leave to spend the morning out, and walked toBethlehem over the veldt. A rather nice little town, but all thestores shut, and looking like a dead place. It was full of troops. Some stores had sentries over them, for there had been a great deal oflooting. We hammered at a store door, and at last a man came out andsaid he had nothing to sell. However, he gave us leave to look round, which we did with an exhaustive scrutiny which amused him. At firstthere seemed to be nothing but linseed meal and mouth-organs, but byferreting round, climbing to shelves, and opening countless drawers, we discovered some mealy flour, and reproached him for hisinsincerity. He protested that it was all he had to live on, but atlast consented to sell us some, and some mixed spices, the only othereatable he had, besides a knife and fork, braces and sponges. Then wetried another store. A crusty, suspicious old fellow let us grudginglyin, locked the door, and made the same protests. We were just goingwhen I descried some bottles on a distant shelf. He sourly broughtthem down. They were Mellin's Food for Infants, and we bought six athalf a crown each; also some mixed herbs, and essence of vanilla. Thenwe made a house-to-house visitation, but only got some milk from anEnglishwoman, who was so full of stories of Boer rapacity that sheforgot our wants, and stood, cup in hand, complaining about eightponies they had taken, while we were deaf and thirsty. The whole townhad an English appearance. They all abused De Wet. No fresh supplieshad come in for nine months, and the whole place was stripped. On thewhole, we thought we had done pretty well, as we had half a sack ofthings, and another one full of fuel laboriously collected on the wayback. 

Rumours in the town were rife. All agreed we could do nothing till asupply-convoy comes in, now expected from Kroonstadt. We arefifty-four miles, across mountains, from Harrismith on the east, andseventy or eighty from Kroonstadt on the west. All supplies from thelatter must come by ox-waggons over dozens of bad drifts, with raidingBoers about, and it is easy to see how an army might be starved beforeit knew it. We are very short now, I believe. It seems De Wet is tenmiles off in the mountains, being watched by Broadwood's cavalry, andas soon as we can move I expect we shall go for him. Grazing in theafternoon. Williams and I played picquet, lying by our horses. This isalways rather a precarious amusement, as the horses have a way ofstarting off suddenly to seek "pastures new, " and you look up and findthem gone, and have to climb rocks and view them out. We tie them allfour close together, but there is generally one predominant partnerwho personally conducts the rest. In the evening we baked cakes of ourmealy flour, adding Mellin's Food, mixed herbs, vanilla, and fat, andfried it in a fatty dish. It was very good, and was followed by meatfried in mealy crumbs, and later on, some mealy porridge and Mellinmixed. We tried Mellin alone first, but it seemed thin. We read thedirections carefully, and used the proportions laid down for infants_over_ three months. I dare say it would have been all right had webeen four months old, but being rather more mature, it seemedunsubstantial. Its main advantage is its sweetness. In this hungrylife, one misses sugar more than anything. 

_July 13. _--Reveillé 6. 30, and grooming, while the infantry chaps satup in their beds and watched us sarcastically. At nine, harness-cleaning for drivers, and grazing for gunners, but I have gota gunner who dislikes bare-back riding to do my harness while I graze. I am writing on the veldt; warm sunny day, pale blue sky--verypale. --Back to finish harness-cleaning. We always "grouse" at thisoccupation, as I believe all drivers do on active service. We don'tpolish steel, but there is a wonderful lot of hard work in rubbingdubbin into all the leather. It is absolutely necessary to keep itsupple, especially such parts as the collar, girths, stirrup-leathers, reins, etc. Grazing again all the afternoon. The horses have been onhalf rations of oats since we came here, so I suppose it is necessary. I was sitting writing by my horses, when a cart rattled by. Some oneshouted, "Anything to sell?" It stopped, and there was a rush. In itwas a farmer and a rascally old Yeomanry sergeant who had been buyingbread for his men, and now sold us a loaf and a half for sixshillings. There was no doubt about paying, and I got a third of oneloaf, which we ate luxuriously in the evening. It was of mealy flour, and tasted velvety and delicious after eternal biscuit. We alsoorganized a large bake of mealy cakes, which were a distressingfailure, as the pan got red-hot. I am afraid food and eating havebecome very prominent in my diary. My only excuse is that they reallyare not disproportionately so, seeing their absorbing importance inthe life of a soldier on active service, especially when he is farfrom a base and rations are short. 

Some Boer tobacco was kindly sent to us by the Major, and was verywelcome, for 'baccy has been very scarce, and you see fellows pickingthe wet dottels out of the bottoms of their pipes and drying them inthe sun for future use. Matches also are very precious; there are noneto be got, and they are counted and cared for like sovereigns. Thestriking of a match is a public event, of which the striker givesprevious notice in a loud voice. Pipes are filled, and every second inthe life of the match is utilized. 

_July 14. _--We came back to camp after the last spell to find that thegunners had shifted the lines to the bottom of the hill, on a dismalpatch of burnt veldt. We dragged and carried our harness and kit downthe rocks, and settled down again, after the usual fatigues connectedwith change of camp. Everybody very irritable, for this looked like along stay, but after tea the word went round that we were off nextday, to our great delight. We are sick of this place. 

_July 15. _--We harnessed up at 6. 30, and at 9. 30 climbed to the top ofthe hill again, a hard pull for the horses. Then marched off with anescort of Highlanders, and halted on what it seems is the Senekalroad, near to the site of our last camp after the battle. Here wejoined our own right section and a large convoy with sick and wounded, besides the transport for our own brigade, which had mustered theretoo. They say we are going with the convoy to Senekal, which is quiteunexpected, and a doubtful prospect. It seems to be taking us awayfrom De Wet, and promises only hard marching and a dull time. Wemarched about ten miles entirely over burnt veldt, a most dismalcountry. There was a high cold wind, which drove black dust over ustill we were all like Christy Minstrels. Camped at five. 

_July 16. _--Reveillé at six. There was a deficiency in the meatration, and at the last moment a sheep's carcase for each sub-divisionwas thrown down to be divided. Ours was hacked to bits pretty soon, but raw meat on the march is a great nuisance, as there is noconvenient place to pack it, and very likely much difficulty incooking it. 

_1. 15. _--Marched from eight till one over very hilly country, mostlyburnt. It seems there are Boers about; their laager was seen lastnight, and I believe our scouts are now in touch with them. The pet ofthe left section, a black and white terrier named Tiny, has beenhaving a fine hunt after a hare, to the amusement of the wholebrigade. She is a game little beast, and follows us everywhere. Jacko, of the right section, rides on a gun-limber. We passed a farm just nowwhich was being looted. Three horsemen have just passed with a chaireach, also picture-frames (all for fuel, of course), and one mancarrying a huge feather mattress, also fowls and flour. Artillerydon't get much chance at this sort of game. 

_(2 P. M. ). _--Firing began on the right, and we were trotted up a longsteep hill into action, bullets dropping round, but no one hit. Infront are two remarkable kopjes, squat, steep, and flat-topped. We areshelling one of them. [A]

[Footnote A: We were (as we heard long after) in action against DeWet's rear-guard. He had escaped from the cordon just before it wasdrawn tight, with a small and mobile force, and was now in retreattowards Lindley. Broadwood's cavalry pursued him, but in vain. ]

_(4. 30 P. M. ). _--This is the warmest work we have had yet. Our waggonis with the guns, unhooked, and we and the team are with the limbersin rear. There is no shelter, for the ground is level. Boer guns on akopje have got our range, and at one time seemed much interested inour team, for four shells fell in a circle round us, from thirty toforty yards off. It was very unpleasant to sit waiting for thebull's-eye. 

_(4. 35 P. M. ). _--We have shifted the teams a bit, and got out of themusic. To go back: we have been in action all the afternoon, shellinga kopje where the Boers have several guns. It is a wooded one, andthey are very difficult to locate. They have a great advantage, as weare on the open level ground below, and they have been fairly rainingshells round us. Fortunately most of them burst only on impact, andare harmless, owing to the soft ground, outside a very small radius;they seem to be chiefly segment shell, but I saw a good many shrapnel, bursting high and erratically. The aim was excellent, and well-timedshrapnel would have been very damaging. Still, we have been very luckyeven so, only one man wounded, and no guns, waggons or horses touched. Once, when trotting out of action, a shell burst just beside ourteam--an excellent running shot for the sportsman who fired it! Itmade a deafening noise, but only resulted in chipping a scratch on mymare's nose with a splinter. She thought she was killed, and made agreat fuss, kicking over the traces, etc. ; so that we had to halt toput things straight. 

In this case, again, the veldt was alight everywhere, but it was onlyshort grass, and we could trot safely through the thin lambent line offlame. I'm afraid we shall be short of ammunition soon. We startedyesterday with only one hundred rounds per gun. 

Can it be that De Wet has got round here, and that we are up againsthis main position? What is happening elsewhere I don't know. There area lot of cavalry, Yeomanry, infantry, etc. , about somewhere, but herewe seem alone with a small infantry escort, and no sound but theopposing guns. It shows how little a single Tommy sees or knows of afight. 

At dark we marched away about a mile, and bivouacked. Williams and Iminced our meat in one of the battery mincing machines, and made agrand dish of it over the cook's fire. There was a red glare over halfthe sky to-night, as though a Babylon were burning. It was only aveldt-fire. 

_July 17. _--_Tuesday. _--Reveillé at six. Our horses are grazing, harnessed. We are waiting for the Staff to say if this is a goodposition. It appears that De Wet retreated in the night, and wenttowards Lindley, which will complete the circle of the hunt. Oursections are separated again. The right, under Lieutenant Lowe, hasgone on with the convoy to Senekal, and we and the 38th Battery (whohave now fresh officers), and most of the brigade, have taken up aposition just under one of the remarkable kopjes I spoke of, and aretold we shall stay here four days. I suppose we are part of someendeavour to surround De Wet, but the whole operations seem to getmore obscure. He has played this game for months in this part of theFree State, and is no nearer capture. Thinking over it, one's mentalstate during a fight is a strange paradox. I suppose it arises fromthe nature of my work, but, speaking for myself at least, I feel noanimosity to any one. Infantry, no doubt, get the lust of battle, butI don't for my part experience anything like it, though gunners tellme they do, which is natural. One feels one is taking part in a gameof skill at a dignified distance, and any feeling of hostility is veryimpersonal and detached, even when concrete signs of an enemy'sill-will are paying us noisy visits. The fact is--and I fancy thisapplies to all sorts and conditions of private soldiers--in our lifein the field, fighting plays a relatively small part. I doubt ifpeople at home realize how much in the background are its dangers anddifficulties. The really absorbing things are questions of materialwelfare--sordid, physical, unromantic details, which touch you atevery turn. Shall we camp in time to dry my blankets? Biscuit rationraised from three to three and a half! How can I fill my water-bottle?Rum to-night! Is there time for a snooze at this halt? Dare I take myboots off to-night? Is it going to rain? There are always the thousandlittle details connected with the care of horses and harness, and allalong the ever-present problem of the next meal, and how to make itmeet the demands of your hunger. I don't mean that one is always_worrying_ about such things. They generally have a most humorousside, and are a source of great amusement; on the other hand, theysometimes seem overwhelmingly important. Chiefly one realizes theenormous importance of food to a soldier. Shortage of sleep, over-marching, severe fighting, sink into insignificance beside anempty stomach. Any infantry soldier will tell you this; and it is onthem, who form the bulk of a field force, that the strain reallytells. Mounted men are better able to fend for themselves. (I shouldsay, that an artillery _driver_ has in the field the least tiring workof all, physically; at home, probably the heaviest. ) It is thefoot-soldier who is the measure of all things out here. In the fieldhe is always at the extreme strain, and any defect of organizationtells acutely and directly on him. Knowing what it is to be hungry andtired myself, I can't sufficiently admire these Cork and Yorkshirecomrades of ours, in their cheerful, steady marching. 

By the way, the General was giving orders close to me this morning. Hesaid to our Major, "Your guns are the best--longest range; go upthere. " So the Lord Mayor is justified; but the special ammunition isa great difficulty. This, however, is only a matter of organization. As to the guns themselves, we have always understood that the patternwas refused by the War Office some years ago; it would be interestingto know on what grounds. They are very simple, and have some featureswhich are obvious improvements on the 15-pr. 

There was a serious alarm of fire just now. There is a high wind, andthe grass is unusually long. A fire started due to windward, and camerushing and roaring towards us. We drivers took the horses out ofreach, and the gunners and infantry attacked it with sacks, etc. Butnothing could stop it, though by great efforts they confined itswidth, so that it only reached one of our waggons and the watercart, which I don't think are damaged. No sooner well past than fellowsbegan cooking on the hot embers. --Stayed here all day, and unharnessedand picketed in the evening. 

_July 18. _--Reveillé at six, and harnessed up; but did nothing all themorning but graze the horses, and at twelve unharness and groom them. I believe we have to take it in turn with the 38th to be in readinessfor instant departure. Firing is heard at intervals. We are, Ibelieve, about twenty miles from Senekal, eighteen from Bethlehem, andthirty from Lindley. We call the place Bultfontein, from a big farmnear, where the General has his head-quarters. Water is bad here; athick, muddy pool, used also by cattle and horses. 

There has been some to-do about the sugar, and we now draw itseparately ourselves, two ounces, and find it goes further. There isenough for the morning mealy porridge, which is very nasty without it. 

_July 19. _--Reveillé at six. Harnessed up. Cleaning lines, and grazingall the morning. Grazing is now practically a standing order in allspare time. I believe it is necessary for the horses; but it acts asan irksome restraint on the men. When not on the move, we have thethree stable-hours as in a standing camp, and often "grouse" over thema good deal; but the horses are certainly in wonderfully goodcondition with the care taken of them. The weather is warmer. Frost atnight, but no dew; and a hot sun all the windless, cloudless day. 

Visited a pile of loot taken by some 38th men, and got a lump ofhome-made Boer soap, in exchange for some English tobacco. It has afatty smell, but makes a beautiful white lather. They had all sorts ofhousehold things, and a wag was wearing a very _piquante_ piece offemale head-gear. In the afternoon I got leave away, and washed in themuddy pool aforesaid. It seems odd that it can clean one; but it does. On the way back found a nigger killing a sheep, and bought some fat, which is indispensable in our cooking; if there is any over, we boilit and use it as butter. We cooked excellent mealy cakes in it in theevening. "We don't know where we are" to-day; we had mutton, rice, andcheese for dinner!

_July 20. _--Harnessed up as usual at dawn, and "stood by" all themorning. The rumour now is that De Wet never went to Lindley at all, but only a small commando, and that he is at Ficksburg, fifty milesaway on the Basuto border. What an eel of a man!

Clements's brigade arrived to-day from somewhere, and is just visible, camped a few miles away. The biscuit ration was raised from three tofour and a half to-day. Five is the full number. Rations are good now. Cooked mutton is served out at night, and also a portion of rawmutton. Drawing rations is an amusing scene. It is always done in thedark, and the corporal stands at the pot doling out chunks. It is athrilling moment when you investigate by touch the nature of thegreasy, sodden lump put into your hand; it may be all bone, withfrills of gristle on it, or it may be good meat. Complaints areuseless; a ruthless hand sweeps you away, and the _queue_ closes up. Later on, a sheep's carcass (very thin) is thrown down and hewed upwith a bill-hook. There is great competition for the legs andshoulders, which are good and tender. If you come off with only ribs, you take them sadly to the public mincing machine, and imagine theywere legs when you eat the result. A rather absurd little modicum ofjam is also served out, but it serves to sweeten a biscuit. There isrum once a week (in theory). Duff at midday the last few days. It isdifficult to say anything general about rations, because they varyfrom day to day, often with startling suddenness, according to theconditions of the campaign. I was on picket this night, a duty whichis far less irksome when in the field than when in a standing camp. Vigilance is of course not relaxed, but many petty rules andregulations are. There is no guard-tent, of course, in which you muststay when not on watch; as long as it is known where you can be foundat a moment's notice, you are free in the off hours. You can bedressed as you like as long as you carry your revolver. 

By the way, I have lost my C. I. V. Slouch hat long ago. It came ofwearing a very unnecessary helmet, merely because it was served out. That involved carrying the hat in my kit, and it is wonderful how oneloses things on the march, in the hurried nocturnal packings andunpackings, when every strap and article of kit must be to your handin the dark, or you will be late with your horses and cause trouble. My great comfort is a Tam-o'-Shanter, which I wear whenever we are notin marching order. 

As for the revolver, I got into trouble with the Sergeant-Major thisnight for parading for picket without it. It was not worth while toexplain that I had no ammunition for it; to take your "choking-off, "and say nothing, is always the simplest plan. I once had one cartridgegiven me, but lost this precious possession. I suppose there was somehitch in the arrangements, for our revolvers are only cumbrousornaments. 

There are three pickets and a corporal in charge; each of the threetakes two hours on and four off, which works out at about four hourson watch for each, but less if reveillé is early. Personally I don'tmind the duty much, even after a long day's march. On a fine stillnight two hours pass quickly in the lines, especially if one or twopicket ropes break, and the horses get tied up in knots. If there is alack of incident, you can meditate. Your head is strangely clear, andfor a brief interval your horizon widens. In the sordid day it isoften narrowed to a cow's. 

_July 21. _--The same old game; harnessed up and remained ready. Therewas a sudden alarm about three, and we jumped into our kit, hooked in, and moved off, only to return in a few minutes. The General possiblygave the order to see if we were ready. He reviewed us before we wentback, and seemed pleased. I heard him admiring the horses, and sayingthere was plenty of work in them. "You've been very lucky after thatshell-fire the other day, " he said. 

A much-needed convoy turned up from Bethlehem to-day with ammunitionfor us. We took our waggon down in the morning and filled it. A box ofmatches per man was also served out. In the evening came the joyfulnews that we were to start tomorrow, two days' fighting expected. Williams and I made a roaring fire of an ammunition box in honour ofthe occasion, and a grand supper of mealy-cakes and tea, and smokedand talked till late. Summing up our experiences, we agreed that weenjoyed the life thoroughly, but much preferred marching to sittingstill. Both thoroughly fit and well, as nearly all have been sincecampaigning began. In numbers, I hear, we are twenty-two short of ourfull complement. 

One thing that makes a great difference is that campaigning has becomeroutine. One doesn't worry over little things, as one did in earlydays, when one dreamt of nose-bags, bridoons, muzzles, etc. , and theawful prospect of losing something important or unimportant, and whenone harnessed-up in a fever of anxiety, dreading that the order "hookin" would find one still fumbling for a strap in the dark, in oblivionof the hot coffee which would be missed cruelly later. In a score oflittle ways one learns to simplify things, save time, and increasecomfort. Not that one ever gets rid of a strong sense ofresponsibility. Entire charge, day and night, of two horses and twosets of harness, is no light thing. 

_July 22. _--_Sunday. _--Reveillé at six. Boot and saddle at 7. 30;started at 8. 30--a lovely day. Marched out about three miles with thebrigade, and are now halted. An officer has just explained to thenon-coms, what is going to happen. The Boer forces are in themountains east of us, whence there are only three outlets, that is, passes (or neks, as the Dutch call them), one at each corner of arough triangle. British columns are watching all these, Hunter, Paget, Clements, and Bruce Hamilton. Ours is called Slabbert's Nek, andto-day's move is a reconnaissance in force towards it, withoutlikelihood of fighting. The delay here has been to allow every columnto get into position, so that when an attack is made there may be noescape from the trap. The trap, of course, is a very big one, onecorner, I believe, being at the Basuto border. Something like a wholearmy corps is engaged. It is most novel and unusual to know anythingabout what one is doing. It makes a marvellous difference to one'sinterest in everything, and I have often wondered why we are not toldmore. But I suppose the fact is that very few people know. 

We halted while the mounted troops made a long reconnaissance, andthen came back to camp. It clouded up in the evening, and about eightbegan to rain, and suddenly, with no warning, to blow a hurricane. Irushed to my harness, covered up my kit in it, seized my blankets andbolted for a transport-waggon, dived under it, tripping over thebodies of the Collar-maker sergeant and his allies, breathlesslyapologized, and disposed myself as best I could. But the rain drovein, and there seemed always to be mules on my feet; so, when fairlywet through, I crept out and joined a circle at a great fire whichsimilar unfortunates had built, where we cooked two camp-kettles fullof mysteriously commandeered tea and porridge, and made very merrytill reveillé at 4. 30 in the morning. 

CHAPTER VIII. 

SLABBERT'S NEK AND FOURIESBERG. 

_July 23. _--Harnessed up at 4. 30, and marched out in a raw, cold fog, all wet, but very cheerful. While halting at the _rendezvous_ to awaitour escort, there were great stories of the night, especially of atempestuous scene under a big waggon-sheet crowded with irreconcilableinterests. We marched straight towards the mountains, ten or twelvemiles, I suppose, till we were pretty close up, and then Clements'stwo great lyddite five-inch guns came into position and fired at longrange. They are called "Weary Willie" and "Tired Tim, " and each isdragged by twenty-two splendid oxen. We soon moved on a mile or twofarther, crossed one of the worst spruits I remember, climbed a verysteep hill, and came into action just on its brow, firing at a distantridge. All this time the infantry had been advancing on either flankin extended order. 

_(3. 30 P. M. )_--We and the 38th and the cow-guns, as they are called, have been raining shell on the Boer positions and on their guns. Thesituation, as I see it, is this: we are exactly opposite the mouth ofthe nek, stretching back into the mountains like a great grass road, bordered with battlements of precipitous rock, which at this end--thegate we are knocking at--swell out on either side into a great naturalbastion of bare rock. On these are the Boer trenches, tier above tier, while their guns are posted on the lower ground between. It looks animpregnable position. The Royal Irish, I hear, are attacking the righthand bastion; the Munsters, I think, the left, and there is acontinuous rattle of rifle-fire from both. 

Our teams, waggons, and limbers, have been shell-dodging under thebrow of the hill. They have fallen all around us, but never on us. One, which I saw fall, killed five horses straight off, and woundedthe Yeomanry chap who was holding them. We have shifted position twoor three times; it is windy, and very cold. A new and unpleasantexperience in the shape of a pom-pom has come upon the scene. Far offyou hear pom-pom-pom-pom-pom, five times, and directly afterwards, like an echo, pom-pom-pom-pom-pom in your neighbourhood, five littleshells bursting over an area of about eighty yards, for all the worldlike a gigantic schoolboy's cracker. The new captain of the unlucky38th has been hit in two places by one. 

At the close the day was undecided; the infantry had taken sometrenches, but were still face to face with others, and fire washottest at sunset. But I believe the pom-pom was smashed up, and a biggun silenced, if not smashed. We bivouacked where we were, butdesultory rifle-fire went on long after dark. 

_July 24. _--Reveillé at five. Directly after breakfast we took ourwaggon back to the convoy to fill up with shells from the reserve. Allthe artillery, including ours, took position again, and beganhammering away, but not for long, as the Boers had been evacuating thewhole position in the night, and the last of their trenches was nowoccupied. I believe the Royal Irish have lost heavily, the Munstersonly a few. We got away, and marched through the nek, up and downsteep grassy slopes, and through the site of the Boer laager. I wasstruck by its remarkable cleanliness; I thought that was not a Boervirtue. We halted close to the emplacement where one of the Boer gunshad been yesterday. There was a rush to see some horrible human_débris_ found in it. I was contented with the word-pictures ofenthusiastic gunners, and didn't go myself. From the brow, a gloriousview opened out. The nek, flanked by its frowning crags, opened outinto an immense amphitheatre of rich undulating pasture-land, with awhite farm here and there, half hidden in trees. Beyond rose tier ontier of hills, ending on the skyline in snow-clad mountain peaks. Youcould just conjecture that a "happy valley" ran right and left. Afterthe scorched monotony of the veldt it was a wonderful contrast. Wecamped just where the nek ends, near an empty farm, which produced afine supply of turkeys, geese, and chickens. The Captain, who hascharge of our commissariat, never misses a chance of supplementing ourrations. Williams was sent to forage, and for personal loot got somecoffee and a file of Boer newspapers, or rather war-bulletins, published in Bethlehem, and roughly lithographed, chiefly lies, Iexpect. [A] The Boers have retired south, deeper into the trap. Poultrywas issued, and the gunners and drivers of our waggon drew by lot themost amazing turkey I have ever seen. It had been found installed in aspecial little enclosure of its own, and I fear was being fattened forsome domestic gala-day which never dawned. It was prodigiously plump. 

[Footnote A: Here is an extract, since translated, from one of theseprecious "newspapers, " which ought to be one day edited in full. It isa telegram from General Snyman at the Boer laager at Mafeking, datedMarch 2, 1900, when the famous siege had been going on for five monthsand a half. After some trivial padding about camp details, itconcludes: "The bombardment _by the British_ (sic) is diminishingconsiderably. Our burghers are still full of courage. _Their soledesire is to meet the enemy!_" This is only a mild specimen of thesort of intelligence that was allowed to penetrate to a remote farmlike this at Slabbert's Nek, whose owner was now fighting us, probably, to judge from these documents, in utter ignorance of thehopelessness of his cause. ]

_July 25. _--_Wednesday. _--Reveillé at six. Started at 8. 30, at theoutset crossing a very awkward drift. It was a sort of full dresscrossing, so to speak, when all the officers collect and watch thepassage. We dived down a little chasm, charged through a river, andgalloped up the side of a wall. One waggon stuck, and we had to lendit our leaders. There was a strong, cold wind, and we kept on ourcloaks all day; a bright sun, though, in which I thought the brigademade a very pretty spectacle in its advance, with long streamers ofmounted troops and extended infantry on either flank. About one, oursection was ordered to march back some miles and meet the rearguard. On the way we passed Hunter and his staff, and his whole brigade, followed by miles of waggons, which we halted to allow to pass, andthen followed. They might have discovered they wanted the rearguardstrengthening a little sooner, for the road was very bad, and ourhorses had a hard job. The united brigades camped at sunset. Rumoursrife, and one, that De Wet has cut the line near Kroonstadt, seemsreally true. Very cold. 

_July 26. _--Reveillé at 6. 30. We waited for orders all the morning, with the horses hooked in ready. While sitting by my team I had myhair cut by a Munster, and an excruciating shave. Rumour is that theBoers have been given till two to surrender. Rumour that they havesurrendered. Stated as a fact. Rumour reduced to story that the townof Fouriesberg (five miles on) has surrendered. Anyway, some Britishprisoners have escaped and come in. Grazing in harness for the rest ofthe day. 

_July 27. _--Reveillé at 5. 15. Hooked in and waited for the wholeconvoy to file by, as we are to be rearguard. It took several hours, and must be five or six miles long. It was a heavy, misty day, andsome rain fell. Started at last and marched up the valley, whichnarrowed considerably here, under the shadow of beetling cliffs, forabout eight miles, with incessant momentary halts, as always happensin the rear of a column. Suddenly the valley opened out to anothernoble circle bounded by mountains on all sides, some wearing asprinkling of snow still. Here we came to the pretty little town ofFouriesberg, and joined the general camp, which stretched as far asyou could see, thousands of beasts grazing between the various lines, and interminable rows of outspanned waggons. At night camp firestwinkled far into the distance, and signals kept flashing from highpeaks all round. An officer has been telling us the situation, whichis that the trap is closed, the Boers being surrounded on all sides;that they are expected to surrender; that it will be a Paardeberg on abigger scale--the biggest haul of prisoners in the war. 

Some commandeered ham was served out, and we fried ours over thecook's fire with great success. I may say that the service mess-tin isour one cooking utensil, and the work it stands is amazing; it is aflat round tin with a handle and a lid. It is used indiscriminatelyfor boiling, frying, and baking, besides its normal purpose of holdingrations. 

_July 28. _--Reveillé at six. After waiting in uncertainty for sometime we were left, with the Staffords from Hunter's column, to guardthe town, while the other troops moved off. We camped just outside thetown, and there was a rush for loot directly, of course only fromunoccupied houses, whose rebel owners are fighting. Unhappily othershad been there before us, and the place was skinned. But we got aKaffir cooking-pot, and a lot of fuel, by chopping up a manger in astable. My only domestic loot was a baby's hat, which I eventuallyabandoned, and a table and looking-glass which served for fuel. But wefound a nice Scotch family in a house, and bought a cabbage from them. There was a dear old lady and two daughters. Williams dropped twoleaves of the cabbage, and got a playful rebuke from her. She said hemust not waste them, as they were good and tender. By the way, webought this cabbage with our last three-penny bit. We had sovereigns, but they are useless in this country, for there is no change. Thesepeople told us that they had been ten months prisoners (at large) ofthe Boers. Their men had gone to Basutoland, like many more. They hadbeen well treated, and suffered little loss, till the advent of theconquering British, when forty or fifty hens were taken by Highlandersat night. 

A lovely warm afternoon, and for a wonder freedom till four, the firstspell of it for weeks. Went to a puddle some way off, near a Kaffirkraal, and washed. Some women came with calabashes for water, and Itried to buy the bead bangles and waist-lace off a baby child, butfailed. Then I invaded the kraal for meal and chickens, but failedagain. I never thought, when I visited Earl's Court a year ago, that Ishould look on the African original so soon. Round mud hovels, with atall plaited-straw portico in front. Most of the men look likeworthless loafers; the women finely-built, capable creatures. 

Heavy firing has been going on all day, mostly with lyddite, on ourside, by the sound. You can see the shells bursting on the top of abig kopje. 

This is a funny little place: pleasant cottages dotted round indesultory fashion, as though the town had been brought up in waggonsand just tipped out anyhow. Half the houses are empty and gutted; weare all going to sleep in houses to-night. There has been a row aboutlooting a chemist's shop; our fellows thought he was away with theBoers, but he turned up in the middle. There were some curious bits ofplunder. 

We are much disappointed at being left out of the fighting to-day, butit's only natural. We are only half a battery, and have no reserveammunition, actual or prospective, for some time. 

I have struck my last match. I have now to rely on cordite, which, however, only acts as a spill. You get a rifle cartridge (there areplenty to be got, the infantry seem to drop them about by hundreds), wrench out the bullet and wad, and find the cordite in long slenderthreads like vermicelli. You dip this in another man's lighted pipe, when it flares up, and you can light your own. 

In the evening Williams and I made a fire, and cooked our cabbage inour Kaffir pot, a round iron one on three legs, putting in meat andsome (looted) vinegar. How good it was! It was the first fresh greenfood we had eaten since leaving England, and it is what one missesmost. Two escaped prisoners of the Canadian Mounted Infantry came toour fire, and we had a most interesting chat with them till very late. They spoke highly of the way they had been treated. In food theyalways fared just as the Boers did, and were under no needlesslyirksome restrictions. They said that in this sort of warfare the Boerscould always give us points. They laugh at our feeble scouting a mileor two ahead, while their own men are ranging round in twos andthrees, often fifteen miles from their commando, and at nightventuring right up to our camps. In speed of movement, too, they canbeat us; in spite of their heavy bullock transport they can travel atleast a third quicker than we. Their discipline was good enough forits purpose. A man would obey a direct order whatever it was. Theyonly wanted a stiffening of our own class of military discipline tomake them invulnerable. They sang hymns every night in groups roundtheir fires, "but are hypocrites. " (On this point, however, myinformants differed a little. ) They said the leader of this force wasPrinsloo, and that we had not been fighting De Wet at all. It seemsthere are two De Wets, Piet and Christian. There was a rumouryesterday that Piet had been captured near Kroonstadt, thoughChristian seems to be the important one. But the whole thing isdistracting, like constructing history out of myths and legends. 

_July 29. _--_Sunday. _--Church parade at eleven. It is reported, and isprobably true, that the whole Boer force has surrendered. If so wehave missed little or nothing. About twenty prisoners came in in themorning, quaint, rough people, shambling along on diminutive ponies. In the afternoon Williams went foraging for the officers, and Ivisited our Scotch friends, the donors of the cabbage, who were verykind, and asked me in. The married son had just come in fromBasutoland, where he had been hiding, a great red, strapping giant, with his wife and babies by him. He had originally been given apassport to allow him to remain neutral, but later they had tried tomake him fight, so he ran away, and had been with a missionary overthe border, whose house he repaired. It was pleasant to see thisjoyful home-coming. 

Rations to-day, one biscuit and a pound of flour. How to cook it? Somewent to houses, some made dough-nuts (with deadly properties, Ibelieve). No fat and no baking-powder. Fortunately, Williams broughtback from his expedition, besides fowls, etc. , for the officers, somebread and, king of luxuries, a big pot of marmalade, which he boughtfrom a pretty little Boer girl, the temporary mistress of a fine farm. Her father, she proudly explained, was away fighting us, "as was hisduty. " Williams was quite sentimental over this episode. The Canadianscame round to our fire again, and we had another long talk. They saidthere were very few Transvaalers in this army. The Free Staters hatethem. The remains we found in the gun-emplacement at Slabbert's Nekwere those of Lieutenant Muller, a German artillerist. The Boersalways had plenty of our harness, stores, ammunition, etc. 

_July 30. _--After stables Williams and I went foraging in the town andsecured scones, a fowl (for a shilling), another cabbage, and best ofall, some change, a commodity for which one has to scheme and plot. Wemanaged it by first getting into a store and buying towels, spoons, note-books, etc. , up to ten shillings, and then cajoling and bluffinga ten-shilling bit out of the unwilling store-keeper. This was changedby the lady who sold us the fowl, an Englishwoman. On our return therewas harness-cleaning, interrupted by a sudden order to move, but onlyto shift camp about a mile. This is always annoying, because at haltsyou always collect things such as fuel and meal and pots, which areimpossible to carry with you. Of course this is no matter, if regularmarching and fighting are on hand, but just for shifting camp it is anuisance. However, much may be done by determination. I induced theCollar-maker to take our flour on his waggon; marmalade, meal, etc. , were hastily decanted into small tins, and stuffed into wallets, andjust before starting Williams furtively tossed the fuel-sack into abuck-waggon, and hitched up the Kaffir pot somewhere underneath. Istrung a jug on my saddle, which, what with feed-bags (contents by nomeans confined to oats), and muzzles, with meat and things in them, israther Christmas-tree-like. We marched through the town, and to thebase of a kopje about a mile away, where preparations for a big camphad been made. It is confirmed that the Boers have surrendered _enmasse_, and they are to be brought here. 

After we had unharnessed, I got leave to go back to town and send ajoint telegram home from a dozen of us. The battery has a telegraphicaddress at home from which wires are forwarded to our relations. Thecharge for soldiers is only 2s. A word, so a dozen of us can say"quite well" to our relations for about 2s. 8d. The official at theoffice said the wire was now open, but that he had no change. However, he produced 5s. When I gave him £2. It was a little short, but thechange was valuable. He said that to pass the censor it must be signedby an officer, so I had to look for one. After some dusty tramping, Ifound a captain of the Staffords, saluted, and made my request. Wewere, I suppose, about equal in social station, but I suddenly--Idon't know why--felt what a gulf the service put between us. He wassleek and clean, and talking about the hour of his dinner to anotherone, just as if he were at a club. I was dirty, unshaven, outat knees, and was carrying half a sack of fuel--a mission likethis has to serve subsidiary purposes--and felt like an abjectrag-and-bone-picking ruffian. He took the paper, signed it, and wenton about his confounded dinner. However, I expect mine rivalled hisfor once in a way, for when I got back one of the "boys" (niggerdrivers) had cooked our chicken and cabbage, and we ate it, followedby scones and marmalade, and, to wind up with, black coffee, made fromsome rye coffee given us by one of our Canadian prisoner friends. Ihad met one of them near the telegraph office, and visited hisquarters. Rye makes remarkably good strong coffee, with a pleasantburnt taste in it. The camp had filled up a bit, the Manchesters, Staffords and 2nd Field Battery, of Rundle's division, having come in. We also played with flour and fat over our fire, and made somechupatties. The Captain had sent a foraging party out to secure fat atany price. Quite a warm night. A deep furrow passed near my harness, and I had a most comfortable bed in it. 

_July 31. _--The first batch of 250 prisoners have come in, and areherded near. They are of all ages from sixty to fifteen, dressed inall varieties of rough plain clothes, with some ominous exceptions inthe shape of a khaki tunic, a service overcoat, etc. Some seemeddepressed, some jocular, the boys quite careless. All were lusty andwell fed. Close by were their ponies, tiny little rats of things, dead-tired and very thin. Their saddles were mostly very old, withcanvas or leather saddle-bags, containing cups, etc. I saw also one ortwo horses with our regimental brands on them. Some hadbright-coloured rugs on them, and all the men had the same, which lentvivid colour to the otherwise sombre throng. 

We watered and grazed near an outlying picket, and saw many prisonerscoming in in twos and threes, and giving up their rifles. What willthey do with them? They are nominally rebels since the 15th of June;but I doubt if a tenth of them ever heard of Roberts's proclamation. Communications are few in this big, wild country; and their leaderssystematically deceive them. Besides, to call the country conqueredwhen Bloemfontein was taken, is absurd. The real fighting had notbegun then, and whole districts such as this were unaffected. It seemsto me that morally, if not legally, these people are fair-and-squarecivilized belligerents, who have fought honestly for their homes, andtreated our prisoners humanely. Deportation over-sea and confiscationof farms seem hard measures, and I hope more lenience will be shown. 

In the evening Doctor Moon, of the Hampshire Yeomanry, a great friendof Williams, turned up, and had supper with us. We had no fatted calfto kill; but fortunately could show a tolerable _menu_, including beefand marmalade. 

I was on picket this night. About midnight a lot of Boer prisoners, and a long train of their ox-waggons, began coming in. It was verydark, and they blundered along, knocking down telegraph posts, andinvading regimental lines, amidst a frightful din from the blackdrivers, and a profane antiphony between two officers, of the camp andthe convoy respectively. 

In my second watch, in the small hours, a Tommy with a water-cartstrayed into our lines, asking for the Boer prisoners, for whom he hadbeen sent to get water. He swore copiously at the nature of his job inparticular, and at war in general. I showed him the way, and consoledhim with tobacco. 

_August 1. _--Grazing and harness-cleaning all day. More prisoners camein, and also our old friends the Munsters, and General Paget. Rumoursgalore. We are going to Cape Town with the prisoners; to Harrismith;to Winberg; to the Transvaal on another campaign, etc. Definite orderscame to move the next morning. In the evening an unusual flood of oddsand ends of rations was poured on us; flour, a little biscuit, alittle fat for cooking, diminutive hot potatoes, a taste of goose, commandeered the same day by the mounted gunners, a little butter fromthe same source, besides the usual sugar, cooked meat, and tea. Drawing from this _cornucopia_ was a hard evening's work. We also gothold of some dried fruit-chips, and as a desperate experiment tried tomake a fruit pudding, wrapping the fruit in a jacket of dough andbaking it in fat in our pot. The result, seen in the dark, was aformless black mass, very doughy and fatty; but with oases ofpalatable matter. 

CHAPTER IX. 

TO PRETORIA. 

_August 2. _--Reveillé at six. Harnessed up, and started out to jointhe brigade and its long column of prisoners, mounted on their ponies, and each leading another with a pack on it. We only went about sevenmiles (back towards the Nek), and camped at midday. I had beensuffering from toothache for some days, and was goaded into asking thedoctor to remove the offender. He borrowed a forceps from the R. A. M. C. And had it out in a minute. The most simple and satisfactory visit tothe dentist I have ever had. No gloomy fingering of the illustratedpapers, while you wait your turn with the other doomed wretches, nohorrible accessories of padded chair and ominous professional plant;just the open sunny veldt, and a waggon pole to sit on! In the eveningI got some 38th fellows to cook us some chupatties of our flour. Theytreated me to fried liver over their fire, and we had a jolly talk. Itis said that we are to take the prisoners to Winberg, and then go tothe Transvaal. Cold night; hard frost. 

_August 3. _--Reveillé at six. Sunrise this day was peculiarlybeautiful; a milky-blue haze lay in festoons along the hills, andthrough this the sun shot a delicate flush on the rocks and grassyslopes, till the farther side of the valley looked unreal as a dream. 

Started at nine; marched as far as the inward end of the Nek, andcamped. I got a splendid wash, almost a bath, in a large pond, in thecompany of many Boer prisoners, who, I am bound to say, seemed asanxious for cleanliness as we were. I talked to two most charmingyoung men, who discussed the war with me with perfect freedom andurbanity. They dated their _débâcle_ from Roberts's arrival, and theuse of flanking movements with large numbers of mounted men. They madevery light of lyddite, and laughed at the legend that the fumes aredangerous. In action they leave all their horses in the rear, unwatched, or with a man or two. (Our mounted infantry leave a man toevery four horses. ) I asked if a small boy, who was sitting near, fought. They said, "Yes: a very small stone suffices to shelter him. "They talked very good English. 

The right section have turned up and, I hear, are camped about twomiles away. They have been a fortnight away doing convoy work, toSenekal, Winberg, and back. They brought us no mails, to our greatdisappointment. We have had no letters now since June 15th. Strangerumours come in about 40, 000 troops going to China. A very cold night;I should say 15 degrees of frost. 

_August 4. _--Did a rapid five hours' march through the Nek, and backto Bultfontein, as part of the advance-guard. On the way we picked upthe right section, and exchanged our experiences. They had had nofighting, but a very good time. They had distractingly luscious stonesof duff, rum, and jam at Winberg, and all looked very fat and well. Wecamped, unharnessed, and watered at the same old muddy pool, muddierthan ever. I visited an interesting trio of guns which were near us, in charge of Brabant's Horse; one was German, one French, one British. The German was a Boer gun captured the other day, a 9-pr. Krupp, whosebark we have often heard. It has a very long range, 8000 yards, butotherwise seemed clumsy compared with ours, with a cumbersome breechaction and elevating gear. The French one was a Hotchkiss, made by theFrench company, belonging to Brabant's Horse--a smart little weapon, but not so handy, I should say, as ours. The British one was a 15-pr. Field gun, of the 77th Field Battery, lost at Stormberg and recapturedthe other day. It had evidently had hard and incessant use, and wasmuch worn. Brabant's Horse were our escort to-day, a fine, seasonedbody of rough, wild-looking fellows, wearing a very noticeable redpuggaree round their slouch hats. They are fine scouts, andaccomplished marauders, for which the Boers hate them. Jam for tea, and milk in the tea--long unknown luxuries, which the right sectionbrought with them. In the evening I went to a sing-song the 38th gaveround their camp fire. It was very pleasant, and they were mosthospitable to us. 

_August 5. _--Reveillé at five. Harnessed up; but some hitch aheadoccurred, and we unhooked, watered, and grazed. Finally started about8. 30, and made a rapid march as advance guard, of about fourteenmiles, with only momentary halts. Country very hilly; steep, squat, flat-topped kopjes and several bad drifts. We camped about 1. 30 nearfive small houses in a row, with the novel accessory of some bigtrees--probably a town in large letters on the map. It appears theconvoy has halted some way back for the four midday hours dear to theoxen. The rest of the column came in at dusk. A warm night. Everynight in camp you may hear deep-throated choruses swelling up from theprisoners' laager. The first time I heard it I was puzzled to knowwhat they were singing; the tune was strangely familiar, but I couldnot fix it. It was not till the third night that I recognized the tuneof "O God, our help, " but chanted so slowly as to be difficult tocatch, with long, luxurious rests on the high notes, and mighty, booming crescendos. Coming from hundreds of voices, the effect wassometimes very fine. At other times smaller groups sang independently, and the result was a hideous noise. I wonder if the words correspondto our tune. If so, every night these prisoners, who have staked andlost all in a hopeless struggle, sing, "O God, our help in ages past. "This is faith indeed. 

_August 6. _--_Bank Holiday. _--At 6. 45 we started as advance-guardagain, and marched for five and a half hours, with only a halt or twoof a few minutes, to Senekal. The country gradually became flatter, the kopjes fewer and lower, till at last it was a great stretch ofarid, dusty plain. It seemed quite strange to be driving on levelground, after endless hills and precipitous drifts. We and Brabant'sHorse were advance guard, and clattered down in a pall of blindingwhite dust into a substantial little tin-roofed town, many storesopen, and people walking about in peace (the ladies all in black). Full of soldiers, of course, but still it was our first hint formonths of peace and civilization, and seemed home-like. One of thefirst things I saw was a jar of Osborne biscuits in a window, and itgave me a strange thrill! The convoy and prisoners follow thisevening. The column is miles long, as besides our own transport, thereare all the Boer waggons, long red ones, each with some prisoners onit and a soldier. Also scores of Cape carts, with a fat farmer ineach. There was a wild rush for provisions in the town by ourorderlies and Brabant's. They got bread, and I bought some eggs andjam on commission. After camping and unharnessing, I had a good washin the river, an orange-coloured puddle. I wonder how it is that bysome fatality there is always a dead quadruped, mule, horse, orbullock, near our washing places. We don't mind them on the march;they are dotted along every road in South Africa now, I should think;but when making a refreshing toilette they jar painfully. Kiplingsomewhere describes a subtle and complex odour, which, he says, is thesmell of the great Indian Empire. That of the great African Empire inthis year of grace is the direct and simple one which I haveindicated. In the evening we had a grand supper of fried eggs, jam, chupatties, and cocoa. This meal immediately followed tea. We made ourfire in the best place for one, an ant-hill, about two feet high. Theplan is to hack two holes, one in the top, another on the windwardside, and to connect the two passages. There is then a fine draught, and you can cook both on the top and at the side. Inside, thesubstance of the hill itself gets red-hot and keeps a sustained heat. 

_Recipe for jam chupatties. _--Take some suet and melt rapidly in amess-tin, over a quick fire (because you are hungry and can't wait);meanwhile make a tough dry dough of flour and water and salt; cut intorounds to fit the mess-tin, spread with jam, double over and place inthe boiling fat; turn them frequently. Cook for about ten minutes. Aresidual product of this dish is a sort of hard-bake toffee, formed bythe leakage of jam from the chupatties. 

Brabant's Horse left in the night. 

_August 7. _--A bitterly cold, windy day. Marched for several hoursover a yellow, undulating plain and camped, near nothing, about 12. 30. After dinner I walked over to a Kaffir kraal and bought fuel, and twoinfants' copper bangles. I was done over the bangles, so I made it upover the fuel (hard round cakes of prepared cow's dung), filling asack brim-full, in spite of the loud expostulations of the black lady. They were a most amusing crowd, and the children quite pretty. I alsotasted Kaffir beer for the first, and last, time. Kaffir banglesabound in the Battery. In fact, you will scarcely see a soldieranywhere without them. The fashion is to wear them on the wrist asbracelets. They are of copper and brass, and often of beautifulworkmanship. The difficulty about collecting curios is that there isnowhere to carry them, though some fellows have a genius for findingroom for several heavy bits of shell, etc. Empty pom-pom shells, whichare small and portable, are much sought after; and our own brasscartridge, if one could take an old one along, would make a beautifullamp-stand at home. Rum to-night. 

_August 8. _--Reveillé at six. Off at 7. 30. Another march over the samebare, undulating plain. About eleven we passed a spruit where therewas a camp of infantry and the 9th Field Battery, who told us theycame out when we did, but had only fired four rounds since! Near herethere was a pathetic incident. A number of Boer women met us on theroad, all wearing big white linen hoods; they stood in sad groups, orwalked up and down, scanning the faces of the prisoners (we were withthe main body today) for husbands, brothers, sweethearts. Many musthave looked in vain. The Boers have systematically concealed losseseven from the relatives themselves; and one of the saddest things inthis war must be the long torture of uncertainty suffered by thewomenfolk at home. 

We camped at twelve near a big dam, and unharnessed, but only for arest, resuming the march at about three, and halting for the nightabout ten miles farther on. A profligate issue of rations--fivebiscuits, four ounces of sugar (instead of two or three), duff and rumagain. A lovely, frosty night, the moon full, delicate mists wreathingthe veldt, hundreds of twinkling camp-fires, and the sound of psalmsfrom the prisoners' laager. 

_August 9. _--In to-day's march the character of the country changed, with long, low, flat-topped kopjes on either side of us, and the roadin a sharp-cut hollow between them, covered with loose round stones--aparched and desolate scene. After about ten miles we descended througha long ravine into Winberg, with its red-brick, tin-roofed housesbaking in the sun. We skirted the town, passing through long lines ofsoldiers come to see the prisoners arrive, and out about a mile on toa dusty, dreary plain, where we camped. We were all thrilling withhopes of letters. (Winberg is at the end of a branch of railway, andwe are now in touch with the world again. ) Soon bags of lettersarrived, but not nearly all we expected. I only got those of one mail, but they numbered thirteen, besides three numbers of the _WeeklyTimes_, and a delightful parcel from home. I sat by my harness in thesun, and read letters luxuriously. It was strange to get news again, and strike suddenly into this extraordinary Chinese _imbroglio_. Itappears the war is still going on in the Transvaal, and the rumour isthat we shall be sent there straight. Among other news it seems thatthe H. A. C. Are sending the Battery a draft of twenty men from home, tobring us up to strength. I heard from my brother at Standerton, datedJuly 21. He was with Buller; had not done much fighting yet; was fitand well. There was a disturbance just at dusk, caused by a big droveof Boer ponies, which were being driven into town, getting out of handand running amok in the lines of the 38th. Wrote a letter home bymoonlight. Very cold, after a hot day. I should think the temperatureoften varies fifty degrees in the twenty-four hours. Some clothingserved out; I got breeches and boots. I wish I could get into thetown. There are several things I badly want, though, as usual, thehome parcel supplied some. 

_August 10. _--We were rather surprised to hear we might move that day, and must hold ourselves in readiness. We all much wanted to buythings, but there was no help for it. Had a field-day at button-sewingand letter-writing. At eleven there was harness-cleaning, and I wassadly regarding a small remnant of dubbin and my dusty girths andleathers, when the order came for "boot and saddle, " and that littlejob was off. In the end we did not start till three, and marched withthe whole brigade nine miles, with one five-minute halt, through easycountry, with an unusual number of clumps of trees, and camped just atdusk, near a pool, unharnessed and watered. There was a curious andbeautiful sight just before, the sun sinking red into the veldtstraight ahead, and the moon rising golden out of it straight behindus. It seems we are bound to Smalldeel, a station on the main line, now eleven miles off. We left all the prisoners at Winberg. Some chapsbought schamboks, saddle-bags, and spurs from them, but beingstableman, I hadn't time. I write this by moonlight, crouching closeto a fine wood fire, 10 P. M. Well, I shall turn in now. 

_August 11. _--Reveillé at 5. 45. We started at eight, and marched theremaining eleven miles in a blinding dust-storm, blown by a gale ofcutting wind right in our faces. My eyes were sometimes so bunged upthat I couldn't see at all, and thanked my stars I was not drivingleads. The worst march we have had yet. About 11. 30 we came to therailway, and groped through a dreary little tin village round astation, built on dust, and surrounded by bare, dusty veldt. This wasSmalldeel. There was a general rush to the stores after dinner, as wehear we are to entrain for Pretoria to-morrow. To-day werevolutionized our harness by giving up our off-saddles, our kit to becarried on a waggon. Some time before centre and lead horses had beenrelieved of breeching and breast-strap, which of course are onlyneeded for wheelers. In the ordinary way all artillery horses are soharnessed that they can be used as wheelers at any moment. The offhorse is now very light therefore, having only collar, traces, andcrupper, with an improvised strap across the back to support thetraces. Of course there are always "spare wheelers, " ready-harnessed, following each subdivision in case of casualties. As far back asBethlehem we discarded big bits also and side-reins, which are quiteuseless, and waste time in taking in and out when you want to waterrapidly, or graze for a few moments. The harness is much simplifiednow, and takes half the time to put on. The mystery is why it is everconsidered necessary to have so much on active service, or even athome, unless to keep drivers from getting too much leisure. Severalhouses in this place have been wrecked, and many fellows slept underthe shells. In one of them a man was selling hot coffee in theevening, at 6d. A cup. It was a striking scene, which I shall alwaysremember--a large building, floorless and gutted inside, and full ofheaps of rubble, very dimly lit by a couple of lanterns, in the lightof which cloaked and helmeted figures moved. I thought of sleeping ina house, for it was the coldest night I remember; but habit prevailed, and I turned in as usual by my harness. The horses have got ahead-rope-eating epidemic, and seemed to be loose all night. 

_August 12. _--_Sunday. _--Reveillé at six. Harnessed up, and waited fororders to entrain for Pretoria. The 38th Battery have gone already, and the Wilts Yeomanry. A draft of twenty new men from England came inby train. They looked strangely pale and clean and tidy beside ourpatched and soiled and sunburnt selves. Marched down to station, andwere entraining guns, waggons, horses, etc. , till about four. Theusual exciting scenes with mules, but it all seems routine now. Oursubdivision of thirty men were packed like herrings into an opentruck, also occupied by a gun and limber. 

_August 13. _--I write sitting wedged among my comrades on the floor ofthe truck, warm sun bathing us after an Arctic night, and up to myknees in kit, letters, newspapers, parcels, boxes of cigarettes, chocolate, etc. , for all our over-due mails have been caught up in alump somewhere, and the result of months of affection and thoughtfulcare in distant England are heaped on us all at once. I have aboutthirty letters. It is an orgie, and I feel drunk with pleasure. Allthe time the train rolls through the wilderness, with its myriadant-hills, its ribbon of empty biscuit tins and dead horses, itsbroken bridges, its tiny outpost camps, like frail islands in theocean, its lonely stations of three tin houses, and nothing elsebeyond, no trees, fields, houses, cattle, signs of human life. Westopped all last night at Zand River. All trains stop at night now, for the ubiquitous De Wet is a terror on the line. To-day we passedthe charred and twisted remains of another train he had burnt; graves, in a row, close to it. Williams and I slept on the ground outside thetruck, after feeding and watering horses and having tea. It was anuneasy slumber, on dust and rubble, interrupted once by the trainquietly steaming away from beside us. But it came back. We were offagain at 4. 30 A. M. , a merry crowd heaped together under blankets onthe floor of the truck. We ground slowly on all day, and halted forthe night at Viljoen's Drift, the frontier station. 

_August 14. _--Sleepy heads rose from a sea of blankets, and blinkedout to see the crossing of the Vaal river, and a thin, sleepy cheerhailed this event; then we relapsed and waited for the sun. When itcame, and we thawed and looked about, we saw an entire change ofcountry; hills on both sides, trees here and there, and many farms. Soon the upper works of a mine showed, and then more, and all at oncewe were in a great industrial district. At Elandsfontein, the junctionfor Johannesburg, we had a long halt, and a good breakfast, gettingfree coffee from a huge boiling vat. 

_(9 P. M. )_--We reached Pretoria just at dusk, the last five miles orso being a very pretty run through a beautiful pass, with woods andreal _green_ fields in the valley, a refreshing contrast to theoutside veldt. We detrained by electric light, and bivouacked in anopen place just outside the station. I write this in the station bar, where some of us have been having a cup of tea. Paget's Brigade areall here, and I hear Roberts is to review us to-morrow. A DublinFusilier, who had been a prisoner since the armoured-train affair atEstcourt until Roberts reached Pretoria, told us we "had a good namehere, " for Bethlehem, etc. He vaguely talked of Botha and Delarey"dodging round" near here. We have heard nothing of the outside worldfor a long time, and as far as I can make out, the Transvaal has stillto be conquered, just as the Free State has had to be, long after thecapture of both capitals. 

_August 15. _--I had gone to sleep in splendid isolation under theverandah of an empty house, but awoke among some Munsters, who greeteddawn with ribald songs. Harnessed up after breakfast, and marched offthrough the town, past the head-quarters, where Roberts reviewed usand the 38th. He was standing with a large Staff at the foot of thesteps. The order "eyes right" gave us a good view of him, and verysmall, fit, and alert he looked. 

 "'E's little, but 'e's wise, 'E's a terror for 'is size. "

I liked what we saw of the town, broad boulevards edged with trees, and houses set back deep in gardens; the men all in khaki uniforms, orniggers, but a good many English ladies and nurses. We marched to acamp on the top of a hill outside the town, and joined the rest of thebrigade. A lovely view of the town from here, in a hollow ofencircling hills, half-buried in trees, looking something likeFlorence in the distance. I can hardly believe we are really here whenI think of the hopeless depression of June and May at Bloemfontein. Much to our disgust, we weren't allowed to go down to the town in theafternoon. However, we visited a reservoir instead, where a pipe tookaway the overflow, and here we got a real cold bath in limpid water, on a shingly bottom, a delicious experience. After evening stablesWilliams and I got leave to go down to town. We passed through broadtree-bordered streets, the central ones having fine shops andbuildings, but all looking dark and dead, and came to the CentralSquare, where we made for the Grand Hotel, and soon found ourselvesdining like gentlemen at tables with table-cloths and glasses andforks, and clean plates for every course. The complexity of civilizedparaphernalia after the simplicity of a pocket-knife and mess-tin, wasquite bewildering. The room was full of men in khaki. Heavens! howhungry that dinner made me! We ordered a bottle of claret, thecheapest being seven shillings. The waiter when he brought it uppaused mysteriously, and then, in a discreet whisper to Williams, saidhe supposed we were sergeant-majors, as none under that rank could beserved with wine. Gunner Williams smilingly reassured him, and DriverChilders did his best to look like a sergeant-major, with, I fear, indifferent success. Anyway the waiter was easily satisfied, and leftus the claret, which, as there were three officers at the table, wascreditable to him. We walked home about 8. 30, the streets all silentas death, till we were challenged by a sentry near the outskirts ofthe town, and asked for the countersign, which we didn't know. Therewere muttered objections, into which a bottle of whisky mysteriouslyentered, and we bluffed it out. I have never found ignorance of acountersign a serious obstacle. 

_August 16. _--Grazing most of the morning, during which I have managedto get some letters written, but I have great arrears to make up. Several orders countermanding one another have been coming in, to thegeneral effect that we are probably to start somewhere to-day. Theusual crop of diverse rumours as to our future. One says we go toMiddelberg, another Lydenberg, another Petersberg. There seem to beseveral forces of Boers still about, and De Wet, who ought to becomehistoric as a guerilla warrior, is still at large, nobody knows where. I only trust our ammunition-supply will be better managed this time. Anyway, we are all fit and well, and ready for anything, and thehorses in first-class order. I forgot to say that I had to part withone of my pair, the riding-horse, a few days before we reachedSmalldeel. He was taken for a wheeler in our team. I now ride the mareand lead my new horse, which is my old friend the Argentine, whoseacquaintance I first made at Capetown. Hard work has knocked most ofthe vice out of her, though she still is a terror to the other horsesin the lines. She looks ridiculously small in artillery harness, butworks her hardest, and is very fit, though she declines to oats unlessI mix them with mealies, which I can't always do. 

CHAPTER X. 

WARMBAD. [A]

[Footnote A: In this new campaign Paget's Brigade was, in conjunctionwith the forces of Baden-Powell, Plumer, and Hickman, to scour thedistrict whose backbone is the railway line running due north fromPretoria to Petersberg. He was to occupy strategic points, isolate andround up stray commandos, and generally to engage the attention of theenemy here, while the grand advance under Roberts and Buller wastaking place eastward. ]

_August 16, continued. _--We started at 4 P. M. , and had a most tediousmarch for about four miles only, with incessant checks, owing to thebadness of the ground, so that we arrived long after dark at thecamping-ground in indifferent humour. We had followed a narrow valleyin a northerly direction. Most of the transport waggons, including ourown, stuck in a drift some way back, so that we had no tea, and thedrivers no blankets to sleep in (gunners carry their kit on thegun-carriages and limbers and ammunition-waggons). However, I got upat midnight and found the kit-waggon had arrived, and got mine; alsosome tea from a friendly cook of the 38th, so I did well. 

_August 17. _--Reveillé at 4. 15. Started at five, and to our surprisemarched back about a mile and a half. Picked up the rest of our buckwaggons on the way, and halted for a hurried breakfast at dawn. Thenmarched through what I hear is called Wonderboom Port, a narrow nekbetween two hills, leading due north, to judge by the sun. We forded agirth-deep river on the way. The nek led out on to a long, broadvalley, about six miles in width, bordered on the Pretoria side with aline of steep kopjes, and on the north by low brown hills. Long yellowgrass, low scrub, and thorny trees, about the size of hawthorns; noroad, and the ground very heavy. 

_(2 P. M. )_--We are halted to feed. There is some firing on the leftfront. Had a good sleep for an hour. Later on we went into action, butnever fired, and in the evening marched away behind a hill and camped. The Wilts and Montgomery Yeomanry are with us, and at the commonwatering-place, a villainous little pool, with a steep, slipperydescent to it, I recognized Alexander Lafone, of the latter corps. Iwalked to their lines after tea, found him sergeant of the guard, andwe talked over a fire. We had last seen one another as actors in someamateur theatricals in a country town at home. They had been in actionfor the first time that day, and had reported 500 Boers close by. Awarm night. Quite a change of season has set in. 

_August 18. _--A big gun was booming not far off, during breakfast. Ahot, cloudless day. Started about 8. 30, and marched till twelve, crossing the valley diagonally, till we reached some kopjes on theother side. A pom-pom of ours is now popping away just ahead, andthere is a good deal of rifle-fire. 

_(3. 15. )_--The old music has begun, a shell coming screeching overheadand bursting behind us. We and the convoy were at once moved to aposition close under a kopje between us and the enemy. Shells arecoming over pretty fast, but I don't see how they can reach us here. Amost curious one has just come sailing very slowly overhead, andgrowling and hiccoughing in the strangest way. I believe it was aricochet, having first hit the top of the kopje. When it fell therewas a rush of gunners to pick up the fragments. I secured one, and itturned out to be part of a huge forty-pounder siege-gun shell. Such agun would far out-range ours, and I believe the scouts have notlocated it yet, which explains our inactivity. 

_(3. 30. )_--Our right section has gone into action, and is firing now. Some wounded Yeomen just brought in. One of them, I'm sorry to say, isLafone, with a glancing wound under the eye, sight uninjured. Wecamped at five, and unharnessed. It seems the Yeomanry lost ten menprisoners, but the Boers released them after taking their rifles. 

_August 19. _--_Sunday. _--Reveillé at four. Some days are veryirritating to the soldier, and this was a typical one. We harnessed upand stood about waiting for orders for five hours. At last we movedoff, only to return again immediately; again moved off, and after afew minutes halted; finally got more or less started, and marched fiveor six miles, with incessant short halts, at each of which the orderis to unbuckle wither-straps and let horses graze. This sounds simple, but is a horrible nuisance, as the team soon gets all over the place, feet over traces, collars over ears, and so on, if not continuallywatched and pulled about. When it is very hot and you are tired, it isvery trying to the temper. At one halt you think you will lunch. Youget out a Maconochie, open it, and take a spoonful, when you find thecentres tying themselves up in a knot with the leaders. Up you get, straighten them out, and sit down again. After two more spoonfuls, youfind the wheelers playing cat's-cradle with the centres' traces. Perhaps the wheel-driver is asleep, and you get up and put them right. Then the grazing operations of the leaders bring them round in acircle to the wheelers. Up you get, and finally, as the fifth spoonfulis comforting a very empty stomach, you hear, "Stand to your horses!""Mount!" You hurriedly stuff the tin into a muzzle hanging from thesaddle, where you have leisure to observe its fragrant juicestrickling out, stick the spoon under a wallet-strap, buckle upwither-straps, and mount. At the next halt you begin again, and thesame thing happens. It is a positive relief to hear the shriek of ashell, and have something definite to do or interest you. About twothe 38th fired a few shots at some Boers on the sky-line, and then wecame to Waterval, where we camped and watered. The Petersberg railwayruns up here, and this was a station on it, with a few houses besides. Its only interest is the cage in which several thousand Englishprisoners were kept, till released by Roberts' arrival. I visited iton the way to a delicious bathe in the river after tea. It is a largeenclosure, full of the remains of mud huts, and fitted with close rowsof tall iron posts for the electric light, which must have turnednight into day. It is surrounded by an elaborate barbed-wireentanglement. In one place was a tunnel made by some prisoners toescape by. It began at a hole inside a hut, and ran underground forquite forty yards, to a point about five yards outside the enclosure. Some of our chaps passed through it. In a large tin shed near theenclosure was a fine electric-lighting plant for lighting this strangeprison on the open veldt. 

This morning the Captain came back, to our great delight. He had beenaway since Winberg, getting stores for us at Bloemfontein. He broughta waggon full of clothing and tobacco, which was distributed after wehad come in. There were thick corduroy uniforms for winter use. Ifthey had reached us in the cold weather they would have been moreuseful. It is hot weather now; but a light drill tunic was also servedout, and a sign of the times was stewed dry fruit for tea. The rationnow is five biscuits (the full ration) and a Maconochie, or bullybeef. Only extreme hunger can make me stomach Maconochies now. Theyare quite sound and good, but one gets to taste nothing but thechemical preservative, whatever it is. We have had no fresh meat for along time back, but one manages with an occasional change of bullybeef or a commandeered chicken. 

The camp is a big one, for infantry reinforcements have come in, andtwo cow-guns. 

_August 20. _--There was no hour appointed for reveillé overnight, butwe were wakened by the pickets at 2. 30 A. M. At once harnessed up, andmarched off without breakfast. Went north still, as yesterday, following the railway. Dawn came slow, silent, and majestic into thecloudless sky, where a thin sickle of waning moon hung. It was atypical African dawn, and I watched every phase of it to-day withcare. Its chief feature is its gentle unobtrusiveness. About an hourbefore sunrise, the east grows faintly luminous; then just one arc ofit gradually and imperceptibly turns to faint yellow, and thendelicate green; but just before the sun tops the veldt there is acurious moment, when all colour fades out except the steel blue of atwilight sky, and the whole firmament is equally lighted, so that itwould be hard to say where the sun was going to rise. The next moment, a sharp rim of dazzling gold cuts the veldt, and in an instant it isbroad day. The same applies to sunset. There are no "fine sunsets"here, worthy of Ruskinian rhapsodies; they are just exquisitely subtletransitions from day to night. But, of course, directly the sun isbelow the horizon, night follows quickly, as in all countries in theselatitudes. There is very little twilight. 

_(9. 30 A. M. )_--The country we cross is studded thickly with smalltrees. About 6. 30 the enemy's rifle-fire began on our front. Our sideat first answered with pom-poms, Maxims, and rifle-fire, but our gunshave just come into action. The enemy's position appears to be a lowridge ahead covered with bush. --I fancy they were only a skirmishingrear-guard, for after a bit of shrapnel-practice we moved on, and hada long, tiring day of slow marching and halting, with scattered firinggoing on in front and on the flanks. The country must demand greatcaution, for the bush is thick now, and whole commandos might beconcealed anywhere. The Wilts Regiment (some companies of which arebrigaded with us) lost several men and an officer. We camped on anopen space just at dark. Watering was a long, tiresome business, frombuckets, at a deep, rocky pool. There were snipers about, and a shotnow and then during the evening. 

_August 21. _--We harnessed up at four; but waited till seven to moveoff. This is always tiresome, as drivers have to stay by their horsesall the time; but of course it is necessary that in such a camp, withthe enemy in the bush near, all the force should be ready to move atan early hour. The nights are warm now, but there is a very chillytime in the small hours. We marched through the same undulating, wooded country, crossing a brute of a drift over a river, where wehooked in an extra pair of horses to our team. In the summer this mustbe a lovely region, when the trees and grass are green; very like theNew Forest, I should think. We had a long halt in the middle of theday, and then marched on till five, when we camped. We waited tilleight for tea, as the buck-waggons had stuck somewhere; but I madesome cocoa on a fire of mealy-stalks. I forgot to say thatBaden-Powell has joined the column with a mounted force and theElswick Battery, and is now pushing on ahead. I hear that Paget'sobject is to prevent De Wet from joining Botha, and that Baden-Powellhas seized some drift ahead over which he must pass. Fancy De Wet uphere! An alternative to Maconochie was issued to-day, in the shape ofan excellent brand of pressed beef. 

_August 22. _--Reveillé at 3 A. M. For the right section, who moved offat once, and at 3. 45 for my section. We started at 5. 30, and marchedpretty quickly all the morning to Pynaar's River, which consists of astation on the railway, and a few gutted houses. A fine iron bridgeover the river had been blown up, and was lying with its back brokenin the water. We camped here about one, and thought we were in for adecent rest, after several very short nights. I ate something, and wassoon fast asleep by my saddle; but at three "harness up" was ordered, and off we went, but only for a few hundred yards, when the columnhalted, and after wasting two hours in the same place, moved back tocamp again. One would like to know the Staff secrets now and then in_contretemps_ like this; but no doubt one cause is the thick bush, which makes the enemy's movements difficult to follow. Rum to-night. We went to bed without any orders for reveillé, which came withvexatious suddenness at 10. 45 P. M. I had had about two hours' sleep. Up we got, harnessed up, hooked in, and groped in the worst of tempersto where the column was collecting, wondering what was up now. We soonstarted--no moon and very dark--on a road composed of fine, deep dust, which raised a kind of fog all round, through which I could barely seethe lead-driver's back. The order was no talking, no smoking, nolights, and we moved silently along under the stars, wrapped indarkness and dust. Happily the road was level, but night marching isalways rather trying work for a driver. One's nerves are continuallyon edge with the constant little checks that occur. The pair in frontof you seem to swim as you strain your eyes to watch the traces, andkeep the team in even draught; but, do what you can, there is a gooddeal of jerking into the collar, and narrow shades of getting legsover traces. Once I saw the General's white horse come glimmering byand melt into the darkness. About 3. 30 A. M. Lights and fires appearedahead, and we came on the camp of some other force of ours, all readyto start; soldiers' figures seen silhouetted against the dancing lightof camp fires, and teams of oxen in the gloom beyond. A little fartheron the column stopped, and we were told we should be there two hours. We fed the horses, and then lit fires of mealy-stalks, and cookedcocoa, and drowsed. At six our transport-waggons came up, and we gotour regular breakfast. Then we rode to water, and now (August 23) I amsitting in the dust by the team, writing this. There was a stir andgeneral move just now. I got up and looked where all eyes werelooking, and saw a solitary Boer horseman issuing from the bush, holding a white flag. An orderly galloped up to him, and the two wentinto a hut where the General is. The rumour is that a thousand Boerswant to surrender. --Rumour reduces number to one Boer. 

In the end we stopped here all day, and what in the world our forcedmarch was for, is one of the inexplicable things that so oftenconfront the tired unit, and which he doesn't attempt to solve. 

The camp was the most unpleasant I ever remember, on a deep layer offine dust, of a dark, dirty colour. A high wind rose, and eyes, ears, mouth, food, and kit, were soon full of it. Roasting hot too. Therewas a long ride to water, and then I got some sleep behind my upturnedsaddle, waking with my eyes glued up. To watering again and eveningstables. The wind went down about six and things were better. None ofus drivers had blankets, though, for the kit-waggon had for somereason been left at Pynaar's River. However, I shared a bed withanother chap, and was all right. 

_August 24. _--I am now cursing my luck in an ambulance waggon. Forseveral days I have had a nasty place coming on the sole of my foot, aveldt-sore, as it is called. To-day the doctor said I must go offduty, and I was told to ride on one of our transport-waggons. Thissounds simple; but I knew better, and made up my mind for some fewmigrations, before I found a resting place. With the help of WilliamsI first put myself and my kit on one of our waggons. Then the Majorcame up, and was very sympathetic, but said he was sending back onewaggon to Pynaar's River, and I had better go on that, and not followthe Battery. So I migrated there and waited for the next move. It camein a general order from the Staff that nothing was to go back. I wasto seek an asylum in an R. A. M. C. Ambulance waggon. So we trudged overto an officer, who looked at my foot and said it was all very well, but he had no rations for me. However, rations were sent for, and Igot into a covered waggon, with seats to hold about eight men, satdown with six others, Munsters and Wilts men, and am now waiting forthe next move. It is 11 A. M. And we have not inspanned yet, though thebattery and most of the brigade have started. I hear the whole columnis to go to Warm Baths, sixteen miles farther on. 

We didn't start till 1. 30, and halted about five. They are verypleasant chaps in the waggon, and we had great yarns about ourexperiences. They were in a thorough "grousing" mood. To "grouse" issoldiers' slang for to "complain. " They were down on their scantyrations, their hot brown water, miscalled coffee, their incessantmarching, the futility of chasing De Wet, everything. Most soldiersout here are like that. To the men-calculators and battle-thinkers itdoesn't matter very much, for Tommy is tough, patient, and plucky. Hemay "grouse, " but he is dependable. It came out accidentally that theyhad been on half-rations of biscuit for the last two days, and thatday had had no meat issued to them, and only a biscuit and a half. Bya most lucky hap, Williams and I had the night before bought a leg offresh pig from a Yeomanry chap, and had it cooked by a nigger. In themorning, when we separated, I had hastily hacked off a chunk for him, and kept the rest, and we now had a merry meal over the nationalanimal of the Munsters. It was pleasant to hear the rich Cork broguein the air. It seems impossible to believe that these are the men whomIrish patriots incite to mutiny. They are loyal, keen, and simplesoldiers, as proud of the flag as any Britisher. At five weoutspanned, with orders to trek again at the uncomfortable hour of1 A. M. The Orderly-corporal left me and a Sergeant Smith of the Munstersto sleep on the floor of the waggon, and the rest slept in a tent. They gave us tea, and later beef-tea. The sergeant and I sat up tilllate, yarning. He is a married reservist with two children, and ismore than sick of the war. They gave us three blankets between us, andwe lay on the cushions placed on the floor, and used the rugs to coverus both. After some months of mother earth this unusual bed gave me anightmare, and I woke the sergeant to tell him that the mules weretrampling on us, which much amused him. These worthy but tactlessanimals were tethered to the waggon, and pulling and straining on itall the time, which I suppose accounted for my delusion. 

_August 25. _--_Saturday. _--At 1 A. M. The rest tumbled in on us, and westarted off for the most abominable jolt over the country. For awonder it was a very cold night, and of course we were all sitting up, so there was no more sleep to be got. At sunrise we arrived at WarmBaths, which turns out to be really a health-resort with hot springs. The chief feature in this peculiar place is a long row of tin houses, containing baths, I hear; also an hotel and a railway station, thenthe bush-covered veldt, abrupt and limitless. Baden-Powell and histroops are here, and I believe the Boers are behind some low hillswhich lie north of us, and run east and west. Our cart halted by astream of water, which I washed in, and found quite warm. Coffee andbiscuits were served out. A lovely day, hot, but still, so no dust. The column stops here a day or so, I hear. We have been transferred toa marquee tent, where fifteen of us lie pretty close. The Battery isquite near, and Williams has been round bringing my blankets, for itappears the drivers' kits have come on from Pynaar's River. Severalfellows came round to see me, and Williams brought some duff, andRamsey some light literature; Williams also brought a _Times_, inwhich I read about the massacre in China. I'm afraid the polyglotavengers will quarrel among themselves. Restless night. I believe Ishall never sleep well under a roof again. A roof in London will be abit smutty, though. 

_August 26. _--Breakfast at seven. Told we were going to shift. Packedup and shifted camp about a mile to some trees; the other site washorribly smelly. Installed again in a tent. I have a hardened oldshell-back of a Tommy (Yorkshire Light Infantry) on my right, and avery nice sergeant of the Wilts Regiment on my left. Some of theformer's yarns are very entertaining, but too richly encrusted withwords not in the dictionary to reproduce. How Kipling does it I can'tthink. The sergeant is a fine type of the best sort of reservist. Heastonished me by telling me he had been a deserter, long ago, when alad, after two years in the Rifle Brigade, where he was sickened bytyranny of some sort. He confessed, after re-enlistment, and waspardoned. He had been fourteen years in his present corps, and had goton well. Opposite is a young scamp of Roberts's Horse. Looks eighteen, but calls it twenty-two: his career being that he was put in the Navy, ran away, was apprenticed to the merchant service, ran away (soforfeiting the premium his parents had paid), shipped to the Cape, andjoined Roberts's Horse. I asked him what he would do next. "Go home, "he said, "and do nothing. " If I were his father I'd kick him out. He'sa nice boy, though. There are several Munsters, jolly chaps, and aTasmanian of the Bush contingent, tall, hollow-eyed, sallow-facedfellow, with dysentery--a gentleman, and an interesting one. Williamshas been here a good deal. He made some tea for the two of us in theevening, and we talked till late. I am on ordinary "camp diet, " whichmeans tea, biscuit, and bully-beef or stew. They give us tea at four, and nothing after, so one gets pretty hungry. Some men are on milkdiet. 

_August 27. _--_Monday. _--My foot gets on very slowly. Veldt-sores, asthey are called, are very common out here, as though you may beperfectly well, as I am, the absence of fresh food makes any scratchfester. Most entertaining talks with the other chaps in the tent. TheCaptain has been several times, and brought papers. 

_August 28. _--This is a very free-and-easy field hospital; no irksomeregulations, and restrictions, and inspections. A doctor comes roundin the morning and looks at each of us. The dressings are done once intwenty-four hours by an orderly. He is a very good chap, but you haveto keep a watchful eye on him, and see that he doesn't put the samepiece of lint on twice; yet you must be very tactful in suggestions, for an orderly is independent, and has the whip-hand. An officer walksround again in the evening, pretty late, and says he supposes each ofus feels better. This very much amused me at first, but, after all, itroughly hit off the truth. We are nearly all slight cases. Meals comethree times a day, and otherwise we are left to ourselves. The foodmight, I think, be better and more plentiful. I have had the privilegeof hearing Tommy's opinions on R. A. M. C. Orderlies, and also those ofan R. A. M. C. Orderly on Tommy, or perhaps rather on his own status andgrievances in general. Inside the tent Tommy was free and unequivocalabout the whole tribe of orderlies, the criticism culminating in aghoulish story from my right-hand neighbour, told in broadestYorkshire, about one in Malta, "who stole the ---- boots off the ----corpse in the ---- dead-'ouse. " Outside the tent a communicativeorderly poured into my ear the tale of Paardeberg, and its unspeakablehorrors, the overwork and exhaustion of a short-handed medical corps, the disease and death in the corps itself, etc. I conclude that insuch times of stress the orderly has a very bad time, but that with acolumn having few casualties and little enteric, like this, he isuncommonly well off. His class has done some splendid work, whichTommy sometimes forgets, but it must be remembered that it had to besuddenly and hurriedly recruited with untrained men from many outsidesources, some of them not too suitable. My impression is that theywant more supervision by the officers. The latter, in this hospital, are, when we see them, very kind, and certainly show the utmostindulgence in keeping off duty men who are not feeling fit for work. 

CHAPTER XI. 

HOSPITAL. 

_August 29. _--Suddenly told we were all to go to Pretoria by train, railway being just open, it seems. I am disgusted with the slowness ofmy foot, and at being separated from the Battery. It goes to-morrowback to Pynaar's River, and then joins a flying column of some sort. 

_August 30. _--I write lying luxuriously on a real spring-mattress bed, between real sheets, having just had my fill of real bread and realbutter, besides every comfort, in a large marquee tent, with a woodenfloor, belonging to the Imperial Yeomanry Hospital, Pretoria. I landedin this haven at four o'clock this morning, after a nightmare of ajourney from Warm Baths. We left there about 2. 30 P. M. Yesterday, after long delays, and then a sudden rush. Williams came over to saygood-bye, and the Captain, Lieutenant Bailey and Dr. Thorne; alsoother fellows with letters, and four of our empty cartridges aspresents for officers of the Irish Hospital in Pretoria. We were putinto a truck already full of miscellaneous baggage, and wedgedourselves into crannies. It was rather a lively scene, as the Generalwas going down by the same train, and also Baden-Powell on his wayhome to England. The latter first had a farewell muster of his men, and we heard their cheers. Then he came up to the officers' carriagewith the General. I had not seen him before, and was chiefly struck byhis walk, which had a sort of boyish devil-may-care swing in it, whilein dress he looked like an ordinary trooper, a homely-looking servicejersey showing below his tunic. As the train steamed out we passed histroops, drawn up in three sides of a square facing inwards, in theirshirt-sleeves. They sent up cheer after cheer, waving their hats toBaden-Powell standing on the gangway. Then the train glided past campsand piles of stores, till the last little outpost with its wood firewas past, and on into the lonely bush. It was dark soon, and I lay onmy back among sacks, rifles, kit-bags, etc. , looking at the stars, andwondering how long this new move would keep me from the front. Westopped many times, and at Hamman's Kraal took aboard some companiesof infantry. At intervals down the line we passed little posts of afew men, sentries moving up and down, and a figure or two poring overa pot on a fire. About midnight, after a rather uneasy slumber, I wokein Pretoria. Raining. With the patient, sheep-like passivity that theprivate soldier learns, we dragged ourselves and our kit from place toplace according to successive orders. A friendly corporal carried mykit-sack, and being very slow on my feet, we finally got lost, andfound ourselves sitting forlornly on our belongings in the middle ofan empty, silent square outside the station (just where we bivouackeda fortnight ago). However, the corporal made a reconnaissance, while Ismoked philosophical cigarettes. He found the rest in a house near by, and soon we were sitting on the floor of a room, in a dense crowd, drinking hot milk, and in our right minds; sick or wounded men of manyregiments talking, sleeping, smoking, sighing, and all waitingpassively. A benevolent little Scotch officer, with a shrewd, inscrutable face, and smoking endless cigarettes, moved quietly about, counting us reflectively, as though we were a valuable flock of sheep. We sat here till about 2. 30 A. M. , when several waggons drove up, intowhich we crowded, among a jumble of kit and things. We drove aboutthree miles, and were turned out at last on a road-side, wherelanterns and some red-shawled phantoms were glimmering about. We satin rows for some time, while officers took our names, and sorted usinto medical and surgical classes. Then a friendly orderly shoulderedmy kit and led me into this tent. Here I stripped off everything, packed all my kit in a bundle, washed, put on a clean suit of pyjamas, and at about 4 A. M. Was lying in this delicious bed, dead-beat, butblissfully comfortable. Oddly, I couldn't sleep, but lay in a dreamytrance, smoking cigarettes, with a beatific red-caped vision hoveringabout in the half light. Dawn and the morning stir came, with fat softslices of fresh bread and butter and tea. I have been reading andwriting all day with every comfort. The utter relaxation of mind andlimb is a strange sensation, after roughing it on the veldt and beingtied eternally to two horses. 

There are twelve beds in this tent, and many regiments are representedamong the patients; there is an Imperial Light Horse man, who has beenin most of the big fights, a mercurial Argyll and SutherlandHighlander, with a witty and voluble tongue; men of the Wilts, Berks, and Yorks regiments, and in the next bed a trooper of the 18thHussars, who was captured at Talana Hill in the first fight of thewar, had spent seven months at Waterval in the barbed-wire cage whichwe saw, and two since at the front. It was under his bed that theescape-tunnel was started. He gave me an enthusiastic account of theone "crowded hour of glorious life" his squadron had had before theywere captured. They got fairly home with the steel among a party ofBoers in the hills at the back of Dundee, and had a grand time; butsoon after found themselves surrounded, and after a desperate fightagainst heavy odds the survivors had to surrender. 

_September 2. _--Getting very hot. Foot slow. The reaction has run itscourse, and I am getting bored. 

_September 4. _--_Monday. _--In the evening got a cable from "London, "apparently meant for Henry (my brother), saying "How are you?" andaddressed to "Hospital, Pretoria. " Is he really here, sick or wounded?Or is it a mistake for me, my name having been seen in a newspaper andmistaken for his? I have heard nothing from him lately, but gatherthat his corps, Strathcona's Horse, is having a good deal to do in thepursuit of Botha, Belfast way. 

_September 5. _--Got the mounted orderly to try and find out aboutHenry from the other hospitals (there are many here), but, aftersaying he would, he has never turned up and can't be found. There aremoments when one is exasperated by one's helplessness as a privatesoldier, dependent on the good-nature of an orderly for a thing likethis. 

_September 6. _--_Wednesday. _--A man came in yesterday who had been aprisoner of De Wet for seven weeks, having been released at Warm Bathsthe day I left. He said De Wet had left that force a week before, taking three hundred men, and had gone south for his latest raid. Hethought that De Wet himself was a man of fair ability, but that thesoul of all his daring enterprises was a foreigner named Theron. Thisman has a picked body of thirty skilled scouts, riding on pickedhorses, armed only with revolvers, and ranging seven or eight milesfrom the main body. De Wet always rode a white horse, and wore acovert coat. By his side rode ex-President Steyn, unarmed. Theprisoners were fed as well as the Boers themselves, but that wasbadly, for they were nearly always short of food, and generally hadonly Kaffir corn, with occasional meat. One day a prisoner asked afield-cornet when they were going to get something to eat. "I don'tcare if you're a brass band, " he said, "but give us some food. " "Well, I'm very sorry, " was the apologetic reply, "we've been trying for aweek to get one of your convoys; it will be all right when we get it. "De Wet himself was very pleasant to them, and took good care they gottheir proper rations. They rode always on waggons, and he spokefeelingly of the horrible monotony of the jolt, jolt, jolt, frommorning to night. They nearly always had a British force close ontheir heels, and no sooner had they outspanned for a rest than itwould be "Inspan--trek. " "Up you get, Khakis; the British are coming!"Then pom-pom-pom, whew-w-w-w, as shells came singing over therear-guard. At these interesting moments they used to put theprisoners in the extreme rear, so that the British if they saw them, could not fire. He accounted for the superior speed of the Boers bytheir skill in managing their convoy; every Boer is a born driver (infact, most of their black drivers had deserted), and they take waggonsover ground we should shudder at, leaving the roads if need be, andsurmounting impossible ascents. Again they confine their transport tothe limits of strict necessity, and are not cumbered with all thewaggon-loads of officers' kit which our generals choose to allow. Their rapidity in inspanning is marvellous; all the cattle may bescattered about grazing, but in five minutes from the word "Trek!"they are inspanned and ready. Their horses, he said, were wretched, and many rode donkeys; how they managed to get about so well he nevercould understand, but supposed the secret of their success was thisbody of well-mounted, reliable scouts, who saved all unnecessarytravelling to the main body. A very large proportion of the Boer forcewere foreigners--French, Germans, Dutch, Russians, Norwegians. 

The soul of this tent is Jock, an Argyll and Sutherland Highlander. Hewas wounded at Modder River, and is now nominally suffering from theold wound, but there is nothing really the matter with him; and assoon as the Sister's back is turned, he turns catherine wheels up theward on his hands. His great topic is the glory and valour of theHighland Brigade, discoursing on which he becomes in his enthusiasmunintelligibly Scotch. It is the great amusement of the rest of us toget rises out of him on the subject, and furious arguments rage on themerits of various regiments. He is as simple as a child, and reallyseems to believe that the Highland Brigade has won the warsingle-handed. He is no hand at argument, and gets crushingcontroversial defeats from the others, especially some Berks men, buthe always takes refuge at last "in the thun rred line, " as his lastentrenchment. "Had ye ever a thun rred line?" he asks, and they quail. The matter came to a crisis yesterday, when one of them produced ahandbook on British regiments and their histories. The number of"honours" owned by each regiment had been a hotly contested point, andthey now sat down and counted them. The Royal Berks had somany--Minden, Waterloo, Salamanca, Vittoria, Sevastopol, etc. Inbreathless silence those accredited to the Argyll and SutherlandHighlanders were counted. There were fewer, and Jock was stunned atfirst. "Ah, but ye ha' not counted the thun rred line, " he shouted. "Ga'rn, what battle's that?" they scoffed. "The battle of the thunrred line, " he persisted. Balaclava was on his list, but he didn'teven know it was there that his gallant regiment formed the thin redline. Yet he had his revenge, for, by a laborious calculation, lastingseveral hours, it was found that the united honours of the Scotchregiments were greater than the united English or Irish. 

_September 6. _--_Thursday. _--I am allowed to go to a chair outside thetent, a long, luxurious canvas lounge. In the valley below and to theright lies Pretoria, half buried in trees, and looking very pretty. Behind it rises a range of hills, with a couple of forts on thesky-line. Across the valley lies quite a town of tents, mostlyhospitals. We all of us live in pyjamas; some wear also a long coat ofbright blue. Sisters flit about, dressed in light blue, with whiteaprons and veils, and brilliant scarlet capes, so that there is nolack of vivid colour. A road runs in front of the tent; an occasionalorderly gallops past, or a carriage passes with officers. 

_September 7. _--To my delight this afternoon, I heard a voice at mytent door, saying, "Is Childers here?" It turned out to be Bagenal, one of the released Irish Yeomanry, and a friend of Henry's, who hadcome from him to look for me. Henry is wounded in the foot, but now"right as rain. " He is in the Convalescent Camp, which is plainlyvisible from here, about a mile off. It seems that by another luckycoincidence he received letters meant for me, and so knew I was inPretoria. The whole affair abounds in coincidences, for had I answeredthe cable home I should have said "foot slight, " or something like it, and he would have said the same. It would have done for either. We arelucky to have found one another, for the Secretary's inquiries led tonothing. 

I have been reading in the _Bloemfontein Post_ a report of theHospital Commission. I have no experience of General Hospitals, butsome of the evidence brings out a point which is heightened bycontrast with a hospital like this, and that is the importance ofclose supervision of orderlies, on whom most of the comfort of apatient depends. To take one instance only; if a man here is orderedport wine, it is given him personally by the Sister. To give orderliescontrol of wine and spirits is tempting them most unfairly. On thewhole, I should say this hospital was pretty well perfect. The Sistersare kindness itself. The orderlies are well-trained, obliging, andstrictly supervised. The Civil Surgeon, Dr. Williams, is both skilfuland warm-hearted. There is plenty of everything, and absolutecleanliness and order. 

_The Strange Story of the Occupation and Surrender of Klerksdorp, astold by a Trooper of the Kimberley Light Horse, taken Prisoner aboutJuly 10, by De Wet, released at Warm Baths on August 28, and now inthis ward. _

Early in June, twenty-one men and four officers of the Kimberley LightHorse rode out thirty miles from Potchefstroom, and summoned the townof Klerksdorp to surrender. It is a town of fair size, predominantlyDutch, of course, but with a minority of English residents. Theaudacious demand of the Liliputian force was acceded to. They rode in, and the British flag was hoisted. With charming effrontery it wasrepresented that the twenty-one were only the forerunners of anoverwhelming force, and that resistance was useless. The Dutch werecowed or acquiescent, and a splendid reception was given to the armyof occupation; cheering, flag-waving, and refreshments galore. Theircommanding officer mounts the Town Hall steps, and addresses thetownspeople, congratulating them on their loyalty, announcing thespeedy end of the war, hinting at the hosts of British soon to beexpected, and praising the Mayor, a brother of General Cronje, for hiswise foresight in submitting; in return for which he said he would tryto obtain the release of the General from Lord Roberts. The troop isthen escorted by a frantic populace to their camping ground; willinghands off-saddle the horses, while others ply the tired heroes withrefreshments. The town is in transports of joy. Days pass. The newsspreads, and burghers come in from all sides to deliver up their armsto the Captain. He soon has no fewer than twelve hundred rifles, ofwhich he makes a glorious bonfire, thus disarming at one stroke anumber of Boers fifty times greater than his own force. There is nosign of the overwhelming forces of the British, but their earlyarrival is daily predicted, and the delay explained away. Meanwhile, the twenty-one live in clover, eating and drinking the best ofeverything, and overwhelmed with offers of marriage from adoringmaidens. Luxury threatens to sap their manhood. Guards and patrols areunsteady in their gait; vigilance slackens. A grand concert is givenone night, during which the whole army of occupation is inside oneroom. Two guards are outside, but these are Dutch police. At thismoment a handful of determined enemies could have ended theoccupation, and re-hoisted the Boer flag. Weeks pass, still theBritish do not come, but the twenty-one hold sway, no doubt by virtueof the moral superiority of the dominant race. 

But at last their whole edifice of empire tumbles into ruin with thesame dramatic suddenness with which it rose. The ubiquitous De Wetmarches up and surrounds the town with an overwhelming force; theinevitable surrender is made, and the Boer flag flies again overKlerksdorp after six glorious weeks of British rule by a score or soof audacious troopers. 

_September 8. _--Henry turned up in a carriage and pair, and we spentall the afternoon together. It is a strange place to meet in afterseventeen months, he coming from British Columbia, I from London. Afancy strikes me that it is symbolic of the way in which the wholeempire has rallied together for a common end on African soil. He isstill very lame, though called convalescent, and we are trying to workhis transfer over here. The day-sister has very kindly written aletter to the commanding officer at his camp about it. We comparednotes, and found we had enough money to luxuriously watch his carriagestanding outside at five shillings an hour. It cost a pound, but itwas worth it. We had so much to talk about, that we didn't know whereto begin. A band was playing all the afternoon, and a tea-party goingon somewhere, to which Miss Roberts came. She came round the tentsalso and talked to the men. It turns out that Henry and I both camedown from the front on the same day from widely different places, forhe was wounded at Belfast, under Buller. 

_September 9. _--Jock gave us a complete concert last night, songs, interspersed with the maddest, most whimsical patter, step-dances, ventriloquism, recitations. He kept us in roars for a long time. Blended with the simplicity of a baby, he has the wisdom of theserpent, and has the knack of getting hold of odd delicacies, withwhich he regales the ward. He is perfectly well, by the way, butwhen the doctor comes round he assumes a convincing air ofsemi-convalescence, and refers darkly to his old wound. The doctor isnot in the least taken in, but is indulgent, and not too curious. Assoon as his back is turned, Jock is executing a reel in the middle ofthe ward. 

The I. L. H. Man is very interesting. Like most of his corps, which wasrecruited from the Rand, he has a position on a mine there, and mustbe well over forty. He had been through the Zulu war too. His squadronwas with Buller all through the terrible struggle from Colenso toLadysmith, which they were the first to enter. They were shipped offto the Cape and sent up to relieve Mafeking with Mahon. He has been inscores of fights without a scratch, but now has veldt sores. He saysColenso was by far the worst battle, and the last fortnight before therelief of Ladysmith was a terrible strain. But he spoke very highly ofthe way Buller fed his men. The harder work they did, the better theyfared. (The converse is usually the case. ) I have heard the same thingfrom other fellows; there seem to have been very good commissariatarrangements on that side of the country. From first to last all menwho served under Buller seemed to have liked and trusted him. Curiously enough, he says that Ladysmith was in far worse case thanMafeking when relieved. The latter could have held out months longer, he thinks, and they all looked well. In Ladysmith you could have blownany of them over with a puff of air, and the defence was nearly brokendown. 

Judging from this casual intercourse, he represents a type very commonamong colonial volunteers, but not encouraged by our own militarysystem--I mean that of the independent, intelligent, resourceful unit. If there are many like him in his corps, it accounts amply for thesplendid work they have done. He told me that not one of them had beentaken prisoner, which, looking at the history of the war, and at thekind of work such a corps has to do, speaks volumes for the standardof ability in all ranks. But what I don't like, and can't altogetherunderstand, is the intense and implacable bitterness against theBoers, which all South Africans such as him show. Nothing is too badfor the Boers. "Boiling oil" is far too good. Deportation to Ceylon ispitiful leniency. Any suggestion that the civilized customs of warshould be kept up with such an enemy, is scouted. Making allallowances for the natural resentment of those who have known what itis to be an Uitlander, allowing too for "white flag" episodes and soon, I yet fail to understand this excess of animosity, which goes outof its way even to deny any ability to Boer statesmen and soldiers, regardless of the slur such a denial casts on British arms andstatesmanship. After all, we have lost ten thousand or more prisonersto the Boers, and, for my part, the fact that I have never heard acomplaint of bad treatment (unnecessarily bad, I mean) from anex-prisoner, tells more strongly than anything with me in forming afriendly impression of the enemy we are fighting. Many a hot argumenthave we had about Boer and Briton; and I'm afraid he thinks me but aknock-kneed imperialist. 

_September 10. _--_Monday. _--To my great delight, Henry turned up as aninmate here, the commanding officer at the convalescent camp havingmost kindly managed his transference, with some difficulty. The stateof his foot didn't enter into the question at all, but official"etiquette" was in danger of being outraged. The commanding officerwas a very good chap, though, and Henry seems to have escaped somehowin the tumult, unpursued. He had to walk over here. 

A wounded man from Warm Baths came in to-day, and said they had hadtwo days' fighting there; camp heavily shelled by Grobelaar. 

_September 13. _--_Thursday. _--Foot nearly well, but am not allowed towalk, and very jealous of Henry, who has been given a crutch, andmakes rapid kangaroo-like progress with it. There are a good many inhis case, and we think of getting up a cripples' race, which Henrywould certainly win. 

Letters from Williams and Ramsey at the front. It seems Warm Baths isevacuated, and the Brigade has returned to Waterval. Why? However, it's nearer here, and will give me a chance of rejoining earlier. 

A splendid parcel arrived from home. A Jäger coat, chocolate, ginger, plums, cigarettes. Old Daddy opposite revels in the ginger; he is thefather of the ward, being forty-seven, a pathetic, time-worn, veldt-worn old reservist, utterly done up by the fatigues of thecampaign. He has had a bad operation, and suffers a lot, but he isalways "first-rate, couldn't be more comfortable, " when the Sisters ordoctors ask him; "as long as I never cross that there veldt no more, "he adds. 

A locust-storm passed over the hospital to-day--a cloud of flutteringinsects, with dull red bodies and khaki wings. 

_September 15. _--_Saturday. _--My foot is well, at any rate formoderate use, and I am to go out on Monday. What I should like, wouldbe to rejoin at once, but unfortunately one has first to go throughthe intermediate stages of the Convalescent camp, and the Rest camp, where "details" collect, to be forwarded to their regiments. I don'tlook forward to being a detail at all. Henry's foot is much better, and he is to go out on Monday too. He is still rather lame, though. Ithas been most delightful having him here. 

The evenings are deliciously cool, and you can sit outside in pyjamastill 8. 30, when you are turned in. We sat out for long last night, talking over plans. A staff officer has twice been in here, and seemedmuch amused by us two brothers having fore-gathered. I asked him aboutPaget's brigade, and he seemed to think they were still at or nearWaterval. 

_September 16. _--_Sunday. _--We went to church in the evening; a tentpleasantly filled up, a Sister at the harmonium, hymns, a few prayers, the Psalms, and a short sermon; a strange parti-coloured congregationwe were, in pyjamas, slippers and blue coats, some on crutches;Sisters in their bright uniforms. Chairs were scarce, and Henry and Isat on the floor. It was dark before the end, and in the dim light oftwo candles at the harmonium we looked a motley throng. 

Both bound for the Convalescent camp tomorrow. 

_September 17. _--_Monday. _--What we actually did to-day, seeing thecommandant, regaining our kit, drawing new kit, might have been donein half an hour; but we took from nine till three doing it, most ofwhich time we were standing waiting. However, about three we foundourselves in a covered cart with five others and our kits, bound forthe Convalescent camp. We had said good-bye to the Sisters and ourmates. Old Daddy, I am glad to say, had "worked it, " as they say, andwas radiant, having been marked up for home. No more of "that thereveldt" for him. Jock had already been sent out and given a post ashospital orderly, and was now spreading the fame of the HighlandBrigade in new fields. We both felt, on the whole, that we had beenlooked after very well in a very good hospital. 

The mules jolted us across the valley, and landed us at a big block oftents, and we took places in one; mother earth again. Tea, themilkless variety again, at 4. 30, and then we went to Henry's old tentin the General Hospital, which adjoins this camp, and talked to afriend of his there, a man in the Rifle Brigade, with a bad splinteredknee. He was shot about the same time as Henry in a fine charge madeby his battalion, which I remember reading about. 

Both much depressed to-night; the atmosphere of this camp is like aconvict settlement. The food and arrangements are all right, butnobody knows any one else; all are casual details from every possibleregiment and volunteer corps in the Empire. Nearly all are "fed up;"nearly all want to get home. A vein of bitter pessimism runs throughall conversations; there is a general air of languor and depression. Fatigues are the only occupation. I should go melancholy mad here, ifI stayed; but I shall apply to return to the Battery. Even then thereis another stage--the Rest camp--to be gone through. We sat up latethis night outside the lines, talking of this strange coincidence ofour meeting, and trying to plan future ones. He feels the same aboutthis place, but is still too lame to rejoin his corps. 

_September 18. _--We washed in a stream some distance off, and then hadbreakfast. Then general parade. There must be some two or threehundred of us, and a wretched, slipshod lot we looked. A voice said, "Those who want to rejoin their regiments, two paces to the front. " Afew accepted the invitation. I gave in my name, and was told to paradeagain at two, with kit packed. The next moment we were being split upinto fatigue parties. Fatigues are always a nuisance, but I don't mindthem under my own folk, with a definite necessary job to be done. Afatigue under strange masters and with strange mates is very irksome, especially when, as in this case, there is little really to be done, but they don't want to leave you idle. This was a typical case. I anda dozen others slouched off under a corporal, who showed us to asergeant, who gave us to a sergeant-major, who pointed to a line oftents (Langman's Hospital), and bade us clean up the lines. To theordinary eye there was nothing to clean up, but to the trained eyethere were some minute fragments of paper and cigarette ends. Now thegreat thing in a fatigue of this kind is: (1) To make it last. No goodhurrying, as fresh futilities will be devised for you. (2) To appearto be doing something at all costs. (3) To escape unobtrusively at thefirst opportunity. There are some past-masters in the theory andpractice of fatigues who will disregard No. 1, and carry on No. 2 tillthe golden moment when, with inspired audacity, they achieve No. 3, and vanish from the scene. This requires genius. The less confidentploddingly fulfil Nos. 1 and 2, and don't attempt No. 3. Well, weloitered up and down, and collected a few handfuls, and when we hadeked out the job to the uttermost, stood together in a listless knotand waited. "What shall we do?" we asked the corporal. "Do any ----thing, " he despairingly cried, "but do some ---- thing!" By this timethe sergeant-major too was at his wits' end as he looked round hisspotless lines. But you can't easily baffle a sergeant-major. Therewas a pump, with a big tub by it, to catch the waste, I suppose. Theartistic possibilities of these simple objects flashed across him. Inhis mind's eye he saw this prosaic tub sublimed into a romantic pool, and girdled by a rockery, in whose mossy crannies errant trickles ofwater might lose themselves, and perhaps fertilize exotic flora yetunborn. At this moment I espied a wheelbarrow in the distance, andwent for it with that purposeful briskness, which may sometimes beused in fatigues of this sort to disguise your real intentions. For itis of the greatest importance in a fatigue to have an implement; it isthe outward symbol of labour; if observation falls on you, you canwipe your brow and lean on it; you can even use it for a few minutesif necessary. Without some stage property of this sort only aconsummate actor can seem to be busy. Well, I got to the barrow justin time. There were two; a Grenadier Guardsman got the other, and amidenvious looks we wheeled them off towards a heap of rubble in theoffing, "conveniently low. " Then, with a simultaneous sigh of relief, we mechanically produced our pipes and tobacco, found comfortableseats against the pile of rubble, and had a good chat, lazily watchingthe genesis of the naiad's grotto in the distance. When we had had agood smoke, and fought our battles over again, we got up and saw signsthat the fatigue was guttering out; so we put a few stones in each ofthe barrows, and, well content, journeyed back to the scene ofoperations, and laid our stones round the base of the tub, morebecause we knew nowhere else to lay them than for any other reason, for the sergeant-major had apparently forgotten his grandiose designsin other schemes, and had disappeared. The fatigue party was thinning. The corporal said what may be freely translated as "disappearquietly, " and we made off to our camp, where I found Henry, who haddoctor's leave to be excused fatigues, being lame. 

CHAPTER XII. 

A DETAIL. 

_September 18, continued. _--At two we paraded again with our kits, andabout a dozen of us marched off to the Rest camp, which is the nextstage. Everything was very hurried, but Henry had just time to tell methat he was ordered to Bloemfontein, when I had to start. We saidgood-bye, and I don't suppose will meet again till London. The Restcamp was about four miles off, on the other side of Pretoria. Arrivedvery hot and dusty. Waited some time, and then was told that I must goto the Artillery Barracks, another two miles in quite a differentdirection. I might just as well have gone there direct. However, I waslucky enough to get a lift for my kit and myself most of the way, andlanded about 5. 30 at a collection of big, red-brick buildings outsidethe town, was handed from person to person for some time, and finallyfound a resting-place on the floor of a huge bare room in a sort of atin outbuilding, where some 150 R. A. Men of all batteries were sittingor lying on their kit round the walls and down the centre; like lostsouls, I pictured them, sitting round one of Dante's purgatorialretreats. I felt exactly like going to school again for the firsttime, though, of course, I soon found them all very friendly. Ilearned that there was no food to be got till to-morrow, but I foragedabout till I found a sort of canteen-tent, where they sold buns, and, having some tea of my own, got water boiled over a friendly fire, andnow feel happier; but I fervently hope I shall get back to the Batterysoon. When I heard last from Williams, they had returned to Watervalafter some hard forced marching. 

_September 19. _--Loafed away last evening somehow. A wan electriclight half lit the room after dark; the souls "twittered" like Homer'sin dejected knots. "Fatigues all day, and a pass into town once aweek, " seem to be the prospect. Reveillé to-day at six. At parade, after breakfast, I was told off to act as an office orderly to CaptainDavies, the Inspector of Ordnance, an all-day job, but otherwise withpossibilities in it, I judged. Found the office, swept it out, anddusted and tidied things. Parlour-maid's work is nearly new to me (Ihave only cleaned windows before, in barracks at St. John's Wood), andI found myself trying to remember what I used to see Mary doing in theflat. I fancy my predecessor must have been a "slattern, " foreverything was thick with dust. I wish the Captain would leave hismatches behind; there is not a match to be got in Pretoria now for theordinary mortal. I'm afraid there are no perquisites in thissituation. Also I wish he would get a waste-paper basket. I have madea humane resolve never to be without one myself, at home. Captain rodeup about 9. 30; I tied up his pony, and then sat on a stone stepoutside, feeling rather like a corner-boy trying to pick up a job. Found a friendly collar-maker in a room near. He also is a "detail, "or "excess number, " but a philosopher withal. He told me that from hisobservation I had a "soft job. "--Nothing happened, so I have adjournedto some tarpaulins in the back yard. A shout of "Ord'ly" from theoffice interrupted me, and I was sent with a blue letter to the ChiefOrdnance Officer in a camp about a mile away. Again to the same placein the afternoon, and one or two other little errands, but betweenwhiles I had plenty of time to write. The Captain rode off about five, and I somehow got attached to the collar-maker, who was extremelyfriendly, and we spent the evening together. Looked in at a S. C. A. Tent, and found a service going on. The Chaplain of the Bushmen wasspeaking. 

_September 20. _--I got a pass and walked to Pretoria in the evening;saw the place by daylight, and was rather disillusioned. The goodbuildings and the best shops are in a very small compass, and arenothing much at the best, though the Palace of Justice and theGovernment buildings are tolerably dignified. All this part seemsquite new. There is very little to be bought. Indeed, the wonder isthat there is anything, for no trade supplies have come in since thewar began. By way of testing prices, I took a cup of tea and some cakein a pleasant little shop; half a crown; worth it though, for the teahad fresh milk in it. Groceries seem unobtainable, but I made avaluable haul at a chemist's, in the shape of tea-tablets, which Ithink are the most useful things one can have out here. Matches can'tbe bought at all, but if you buy other things, and then are verypolite, they will throw in a box for love; at least, a tobacconist didso for me. They used to be a shilling a box, but the authoritieslimited the price to a penny, a futile proceeding. 

The charm of Pretoria lies in its outlying roads, with its cool littlevillas peeping out of green. The place is very quiet, and every one isin khaki. 

_September 12. _--Can't get sent to the Battery yet. Our tin room growsfuller. At night it is much too crowded, and is horribly stuffy; forthe nights are very hot. But I am quite at home now, and enjoy thesociety, mixed though it is. I have literary arguments with afield-battery bombardier. We both rather pity one another, for hecan't appreciate Thackeray and I can't understand Marie Corelli, whoseworks, with their deep spiritual meaning, he speaks of reverently. Hehopes to educate me up to "Ardath, " and I have offered him thereversion of "Esmond, " which I bought yesterday. 

Went down to town in the evening and visited the Irish Hospital, whichhas commandeered the Palace of Justice, and turned it to better usesthan Kruger's venial judges ever put it to. The patients dwell "inmarble halls, " spacious, lofty rooms. Had a pleasant chat with Dr. Stokes. (The I. H. Were shipmates of ours on the _Montfort_. ) Also, tomy great delight, found two men of our Battery there; it was a greattreat to see familiar faces again. They said the Battery or part of itwas at Waterval. I don't see why I shouldn't rejoin at once if theywill only let me. I joined them in an excellent tea. They spoke mosthighly of the hospital. I had no pass to get back with, and didn'tknow the countersign, but I bluffed through all right. 

_September 22. _--No prospect of getting away, though I apply daily torejoin. Sent down to Pretoria with a letter in the middle of the day, so took the opportunity of visiting the Soldiers' Home, where you canget mild drinks, read the papers, and write. Visited the Battery chapsagain in the evening. I have grown quite reckless about the lack of apass; "Orderly to Captain Davies, " said in a very off-hand tone Ifound an excellent form of reply to sentries. I have an "Esmond, " andam enjoying it for about the fiftieth time. It serves to pass away thelate evenings. A great amusement in the barrack-room after dark isgambling. The amounts won and lost rather astonish me. Happily it isdone in silence, with grim intensity. But I have only an inch ofcandle, and can't buy any more. Next me on the floor is a gunner ofthe 14th Battery, which lost its guns at Colenso. He has just given mea graphic account of that disastrous day, and how they fought the gunstill ammunition failed and then sat (what was left of them) in a dongaclose behind, with no teams with which to get more ammunition orretire the guns. I have also had the story of Sanna's Post from a UBattery man who was captured there. He described how they weremarching through a drift one morning, with no thought of Boers intheir heads, when they suddenly attacked at close range, and werehelpless. I may mention a thing that strikes me about all such stories(and one hears a good many out here) from soldiers who have been"given away" by bad leadership. There is criticism, jesting andsatirical generally, but very little bitterness. Bravery is alwaysadmired, but it is so universal as to be taken for granted. Thepopularity of officers depends far more on the interest they show inthe daily welfare of the men, in personal good-fellowship, inconsideration for them in times of privation and exhaustion, when aphysical strain which tells heavily on the man may tell lightly on theofficers. It is a big subject and a delicate one, but rightly orwrongly, I have got the impression that more might be done in the armyto lower the rigid caste-barrier which separates the ranks. No doubtit is inevitable and harmless at home, but in the bloody, toilsomebusiness of war it is apt to have bad results. Of course is only partof the larger question of our general military system, deep-rooted asthat is in our whole national life, and now placed, with all itsdefects and advantages, in vivid contrast with an almost exactlyopposite system. 

_September 23. _--_Sunday. _--Ammunition fatigue for most of us, while Iattended as office-boy as usual, and was walking about with lettersmost of the day. There are farriers and wheelers also at work in thisyard, so that one can always light one's pipe or make a cup of tea atthe forge fire. Just outside are ranged a row of antiquated Boer gunsof obsolete types; I expect they are the lot they used to show to ourdiplomatic representative when he asked vexatious questions about the"increasing armaments. " I believe the Boers also left quantities ofgood stores here when Pretoria was abandoned. These are fine newbarracks scarcely finished. They enclose a big quadrangle. Three orfour batteries, horse and field, are quartered in them now. Tried toget to Pretoria after hours, but was stopped by a conscientioussentry, who wanted my pass. I wished to get to the station, with avague idea of finding when there would be a train to Waterval, andthen running away. 

_September 24. _--Worried the Sergeant-Major again, and was told that Imight get away to-morrow. Meanwhile, I am getting deeper in the toils. 

I was sitting on my tarpaulins writing, and feeling rather gratefulfor the "softness" of my job, when a shout of "Ord'ly!" sent me intothe office. The Captain, who is a good-natured, pleasant chap, askedme if I could do clerk's work. I said I was a clerk at home, andthought I could. He said he thought I must find it irksome and lonelyto be sitting outside, and I might just as well pass the time betweenerrands in writing up ledgers inside. I was soon being initiated intoOrdnance accounts, which are things of the most diabolical complexity. Ordnance comprises practically everything; from a gun-carriage to anail; from a tent, a waggon, a binocular, a blanket, a saddle, to anounce of grease and all the thousand constituents which go to make upeverything. These are tabulated in a book which is a nightmare ofsubsections, and makes you dizzy to peruse. But no human brain cantabulate Ordnance exhaustively, so half the book is blank columns, inwhich you for ever multiply new subsections, new atoms of Ordnancewhich nobody has thought of before. The task has a certain morbidfascination about it, which I believe would become a disease if youpursued it long enough, and leave you an analyticomaniac, or somesuch horror. Myriad bits of ordnance are continually pouring in andpouring out, and the object is to track them, and balance them, andpursue every elusive atom from start to finish. It may be expendible, like paint, or non-expendible, like an anvil. You feel despairinglythat a pound of paint, born at Kimberley, and now at Mafeking, isdisappearing somewhere and somehow; but you have to endow it with afictitious immortality. An anvil you feel safer about, but then youhave to use it somewhere, and account for its surplus, if there isany. Any one with a turn for metaphysics would be at home in Ordnance;Aristotle would have revelled in it. 

It has just struck me that 1s. 5d. A day for a charwoman, a messengerand an accountant, to say nothing of a metaphysician, all rolled intoone, is low pay. In London you would have to give such a being atleast a pound a week. 

_September 25. _--Ledgers, vouchers, errands, most of the day. Meltinghot, with a hot wind. Good news from the Sergeant-major that he isputting in an application for a railway pass for me to Waterval, without waiting for the other formalities. 

_September 26. _--_Wednesday. _--Hopes dashed to the ground. Commandantwon't sign the application till some other officer does something orother, which there seems little chance of his doing. 

CHAPTER XIII. 

SOUTH AGAIN. 

Ordered home--Back to the Battery--Good-bye to the horses--The charmof the veldt--Recent work of the Battery--Paget's farewell speech--Hard-won curios--The last bivouac--Roberts's farewell--The southwardtrain--De Wet?--Mirages--A glimpse of Piquetberg road--The _Aurania_--Embarkation scenes--The last of Africa--A pleasant night. 

September 27 was a red-letter day. News came that all the C. I. V. Weregoing home on the following Monday. I was overwhelmed withcongratulations in the barrack-room. I exercised the Captain'sArgentine in the afternoon, and visited the station, where I learntthat the Battery had been wired for, and had arrived, but was campedsomewhere outside. 

On the next day I got another charwoman-clerk appointed, said good-byeto my R. A. Friends and the Captain, who congratulated me too, and wasfree to find the Battery and rejoin. After some difficulty, I foundthem camped about four miles out, close to the C. I. V. Infantry. It wasdelightful to walk into the lines, and to see the old familiar scenes, and horses, and faces. Every one looked more weather-beaten andsunburnt, and the horses very shaggy and hard-worked, but strong andfit. My mare had lost flesh, but was still in fine condition. TheArgentine was lashing out at the others in the same old way. Tiny, theterrier, looked very weary and travel-stained after much forcedmarching, which she had loyally undergone to the last. Jacko had notturned a hair. 

Williams turned up with "Pussy" in a lather, having been hunting forme all round Pretoria. We ate bully-beef and biscuit together in theold style. I took my pair down to water for the last time, "for auldlang syne, " and noticed that the mare's spine was not the comfortableseat it used to be. 

Then the last "boot and saddle" went, and they were driven away withthe guns and waggons to the station, and thence to the remount depôt, to be drafted later into new batteries. Ninety-four horses were handedover, out of a hundred and fourteen originally brought from England, amost creditable record. 

The camp looked very strange without the horses, and it was odderstill to have no watering or grooming to do. In the evening, thechange from barrack-room to veldt was most delightful. We made a fireand cooked tea in the old way, and talked and smoked under the softnight sky and crescent moon. Then what a comfortable bed afterwards!Pure air to breathe, and plenty of room. I felt I had hardly realizedbefore how pleasant the veldt life had been. 

The Battery had done a great deal of hard work since I left; forcedmarches by night and day between Warmbad, Pynaar's River, Waterval, Hebron, Crocodile River, and Eland's River; generally with Paget, onceunder Colonel Plumer, and once under Hickman. They had shared incapturing several Boer laagers, and quantities of cattle. When theyleft the brigade, a commando under Erasmus was negotiating for asurrender, which was made a day or two later, as we afterwards heard. Altogether, they had done very good work, though not a round wasfired. I only wish I could have been with them. 

One thing I deeply regret missing, and that was Paget's farewellspeech to us, when all agree that he spoke with real and deep feeling. One of our gunners took it down in shorthand, and here it is:--

"Major McMicking, Officers, non-commissioned officers, and men of theC. I. V. Battery, --

"Lord Roberts has decided to send you home, and I have come to saygood-bye and to express my regret at having to part with you. We havebeen together now for some months, and have had rough times, but inits many engagements the C. I. V. Battery has always done its work well. Before my promotion I commanded a battalion, and I know what aheart-breaking it is to lead gallant fellows up to a strong positionunsupported by artillery; and I made up my mind that, if ever I had aseparate command, I would never advance infantry without an artillerysupport. I was fortunate enough to have your Battery with me, and itis very gratifying to know that everything we attempted has beensuccessful. Owing to the excellent practice made by your guns, youhave the satisfaction of knowing that you have been the cause of greatsaving of lives to the Infantry, and at times the Cavalry. I am sorryto lose you, and I shall miss you very much. There is more hard workto be done; and you cannot realize what it is to me to lose a body ofmen whom I knew I could always rely upon. There are many episodes, some of which will remain a lasting memory to me. One in particular Imight refer to, when, two days after leaving Lindley, two companies ofMunster Fusiliers came unexpectedly under heavy rifle-fire at shortrange; your guns coming smartly into action, dispersed the enemy witha few well-directed shrapnel. It was one of the smartest pieces ofwork I have ever seen. On another occasion, outside Bethlehem (Iforget the name of the place), [A] when in a rear-guard action with DeWet, you advanced under a heavy cross-fire of shrapnel, when yourendered splendid service, and saved Roberts' Horse by silencing twoguns and smashing a third. On that day not a single life was lost onour side. On still another occasion, outside Bethlehem, under heavyshell-fire from five guns in a strong position, the steadiness withwhich your guns were served would have done credit to the finesttroops in the Empire. There are other incidents that I might mention, but these three occur to me specially at the moment. You are returninghome, to receive a hearty welcome, which you undoubtedly deserve, andI hope you will sometimes think of me, as I certainly shall of you;and now you can tell your friends what I think of you. I wish you asafe and pleasant voyage. Good-bye. "

[Footnote A: Bultfontein. ]

We shall also tell them what we thought of him. There was not a man ofus but liked, admired, and trusted him--as I know did his wholebrigade. And that he trusted us, is an honour we shall not forget. 

It was good to be going home again; but I think every one felt halfsorry that we were not to share in finishing the work before hisbrigade. The whole C. I. V. Regiment was being sent home together; butthe Infantry, of course, had done the bulk of their work when we beganours. It was curious that this was the first occasion on which thethree arms of the C. I. V. , Infantry, Mounted Infantry, and Artillery, had been united under one command. 

We spent the next two days in preparations for departure, in sortingof harness, sifting and packing of kit, and great burnings ofdiscarded rubbish. 

On the first of October, Williams and I walked into Pretoria to dosome business, and try and pick up some curios. We had an exhaustingconflict with a crusty old Jew, with whom we bargained for scjamboksand knobkerries. It was with great difficulty we got him to treat withus at all, or even show us his wares. He had been humbugged so oftenby khakis that he would not believe we were serious customers, andtreated our advances with violence and disdain. We had to beconciliatory, as we wanted his wares, though we felt inclined to loothis shop, and leave him for dead. After some most extraordinarybargaining and after tempting him with solid, visible gold, we eachsecured a scjambok and a knobkerry at exorbitant prices, and left himeven then grumbling and growling. 

Scjamboks are whips made of rhinoceros' hide. They take a beautifulpolish, and a good one is indestructible. A knobkerry is a stick witha heavy round knob for a head, overlaid, head and stem, with copperand steel wire, in ingenious spirals and patterns. The Kaffirs makethem. 

I also wired to my brother to meet our train at Elandsfontein. He hadwritten me, saying he had been sent there from the Convalescent Camp, having the luck to find as his commandant Major Paul Burn-Murdoch, ofthe Royal Engineers, who was a mutual friend of ours. 

I was on picket duty that night--my last on the veldt. The camp lookedvery strange with only the four lines of men sleeping by their kits, and a few officers' horses and a little knot of ten mules for the lastbuck-waggon. It was an utterly still moonlight night, only broken bythe distant chirruping of frogs and the occasional tinkle of a mule'schain. 

At seven the next morning we met the C. I. V. Infantry and MountedInfantry, and were all reviewed by Lord Roberts, who rode out with hisStaff to say good-bye to us. He made us a speech we were proud tohear, referring particularly to the fine marching of the Infantry, andadding that he hoped we would carry home to the heart of the country ahigh opinion of the regular British soldier, alongside whom we hadfought. That we certainly shall do. He prophesied a warm reception athome, and said he hoped when it was going on we would remember oneman, our Honorary Colonel, who would have liked to be there to marchat our head into the city of London; "good-bye and God speed. " Then wecheered him and marched away. 

At half-past twelve we were at the station, where the guns had alreadybeen entrained by a fatigue party. Ours was the first of three trains, and was to carry the Battery, and two companies of Infantry. Williamsand I secured a small lair underneath a limber in an open truck, andbundled in our kit. The platform was crowded with officers andTommies, and many and envious were the farewells we had. Kilsby, of TBattery, whom I had made friends with at the barracks, was there tosee me off. At 4. 30, amidst great cheering, we steamed out and beganthe thousand mile run to Capetown, slowly climbing the long woodedpass, under an angry, lowering sky. At the top a stormy sun wassetting in a glowing furnace of rose-red. We hastily rigged sometarpaulins over our limber, and escaped a wetting from a heavy shower. We had managed to distribute and compress our kit so as to leave roomto lie down in, and after dark we lit a lantern and played picquet. About eight we came to Elandsfontein, and there on the platform weremy brother and Major Burn-Murdoch. The latter hurried us off to therestaurant--forbidden ground to us men as a rule, sat us down amongthe officers, and gave us a rattling good dinner, while our comradesmunched their biscuits outside. De Wet, we heard, was ahead, havingcrossed the line with 1000 men, two nights ago, further south. Weagreed that it would be a happy irony if he held up our train, thefirst to carry troops homeward--the herald of peace, in fact; and justthe sort of enterprise that would tickle his fancy. Suddenly the trainjerked off, and I jumped into my lair and left them. It was a warmnight, and we sat under the stars on the seats of the limber, enjoyingthe motion and the cool air. About ten we pulled up at a station, andjust after we had stopped, four rifle-shots rapped out in quicksuccession not far ahead. De Wet, we at once conjectured. In thedarkness on our left we heard an impatient corporal turning out hissleepy guard, and a stir and clatter of arms. One of our companies ofinfantry was also turned out, and a party formed to patrol the line, outposts having reported some Boers tampering with the rails. The restof the train was sound asleep, but we, being awake, got leave to gowith the patrol. Williams borrowed a rifle from somewhere, but I couldnot find a weapon. They made us connecting files between the advanceparty and main body, and we tramped up the line and over the veldt forabout an hour, but nothing happened, and we came back and turned in. 

De Wet let us alone, and for five days we travelled peaceably throughthe well-known places, sometimes in the pure, clear air of trueAfrican weather, but further south through storms of cold rain, whenScotch mists shrouded everything, and we lay in the bottom of ourtruck, on carefully constructed islands of kit and blankets, amongpools of water, passing the time with books and cards. Signs of warhad not disappeared, and at every station down to Bloemfontein werethe same vigilant camps (often with parties posted in trenches), morecharred remains of trains, and ever-present rumours of raidingcommandos. 

One novel sight I saw in the interminable monotony of desert veldt. For a whole afternoon there were mirages all along the horizon, achain of enchanted lakes on either side, on which you could imaginepiers, and boats, and wooded islands. 

At Beaufort West we dropped our "boys, " the Kaffir mule-drivers; theyleft us in a great hubbub of laughing and shouting, with visionsbefore them, I expect, of a golden age, based on their accumulatedwealth of high pay. We passed Piquetberg Road about midnight ofOctober 6th. Plumbley, the store-keeper, was there, and the belle ofthe village was holding a moonlight levée at the end of the train. There was a temporary clear from the rain here, but it soon thickeneddown again. When we steamed away I climbed out on the buffers (theonly way of getting a view), and had a last look at the valley, whichour wheels had scored in so many directions. Tulbagh Pass, Bushman'sRock, and the hills behind it were looking ghostly through a humid, luminous mist; but my posture was not conducive to sentimentality, asany one who tries it will agree; so I climbed back to my island, andread myself to sleep by a candle, while we clattered and jolted oninto the night. 

When I woke at dawn on October 7th we were standing in a siding at theCapetown docks, the rain coming down in torrents, and Table Mountainblotted out in clouds. Collecting our kit from sopping crannies andcorners, we packed it and paraded at six, and marched off to the quay, where the _Aurania_, our homeward transport, lay. Here we gave inrevolvers, carbines, blankets, etc. , were split up into messes, and, after much waiting, filed off into the fore part of the ship, descended a noisome-smelling funnel by an iron staircase, and foundourselves on the troop-deck, very similar to that of the _Montfort_, only likely to be much more crowded; the same low ceiling, withcross-rafters for kit and hooks for hammocks, and close-packed tableson either side. 

More C. I. V. Had arrived, and the quays were swarming with soldiers andcivilians. Williams had decided to stay and see something of Capetown, and was now to get his discharge. There were a few others doing soalso. He was discharged in form, and drove away to the Mount NelsonHotel, returning later disguised as a civilian, in a long mackintosh(over his uniform), a scarf, and a villainous-looking cap; looking, ashe said, like a seedy Johannesburg refugee. But he was free! TheManager of his hotel, which, I believe, is the smartest in SouthAfrica, had looked askance at his luggage, which consisted of anoat-sack, bulging with things, and a disreputable-looking bundle. 

At about three there was a great shouting and heaving of the crowd, and the High Commissioner came on the scene, and walked down the quaythrough a guard of honour which we and the Infantry had contributed toform, industriously kinematographed on his progress by a fat Jew. Several staff-officers were with Milner, and a grey-bearded gentleman, whom we guessed to be Sir Gordon Sprigg. Milner, I heard, made aspeech somewhere. Then a band was playing, and we were allowed half anhour off the ship. Williams and I had our last talk on the quay, in asurging crowd of khaki and civilian grey, mingled with the bright hatsand dresses of ladies. Then bells began to ring, the siren to bellowmournfully, and the band to play valedictory tunes ("Say _au revoir_and not goodbye, " I thought rather an ominous pleasantry). We two saidgood-bye, and I squeezed myself up the gangway. Every inch of standingroom aboard was already packed, but I got a commanding position byclambering high up, with some others, on to a derrick-boom. The pilotappeared on the bridge, shore-ropes were cast off, "Auld Lang Syne"was played, then "God save the Queen. " Every hat on board and ashorewas waving, and every voice cheering, and so we backed off, andsteamed out of the basin. 

Sober facts had now to be considered. There were signs of a heavyswell outside, and something about "the lift of the great Capecombers" came into my head. We all jostled down to tea, and made thebest of our time. There was no mistake about the swell, and a terrificrolling soon began, which first caused unnatural merriment, and thenhavoc. I escaped from the inferno below, and found a pandemonium ondeck. The limited space allotted to the troops was crammed, and atevery roll figures were propelled to and fro like high-velocityprojectiles. Shell-fire was nothing to it for danger. I got hold ofsomething and smoked, while darkness came on with rain, and thehorrors intensified. I bolted down the pit to get some blankets. Oneglance around was enough, and having seized the blankets, up I cameagain. Where to make a bed? Every yard, sheltered and unsheltered, seemed to be carpeted with human figures. Amidships, on either side ofthe ship, there was a covered gallery, running beneath the saloon deck(a palatial empty space, with a few officers strolling about it). Inthe gallery on the weather side there was not an inch of lying room, though at every roll the water lapped softly up to and round theprostrate, indifferent bodies. On the lee side, which was dry, theyseemed to be lying two deep. At last, on the open space of the maindeck aft, I found one narrow strip of wet, but empty space, laid myblankets down, earnestly wishing it was the dusty veldt, and was soonasleep. It was raining, but, like the rest, misery made meindifferent. _Montfort_ experience ought to have reminded me that thedecks are always washed by the night watch. I was reminded of thisabout 2 A. M. By an unsympathetic seaman, who was pointing the nozzleof a hose threateningly at me. The awakened crowd was drifting away, goodness knows where, trailing their wet blankets. I happened to benear the ladder leading to the sacred precincts of the saloon deck. Its clean, empty, sheltered spaces were irresistibly tempting, and Ilawlessly mounted the ladder with my bed, lay down, and went to sleepagain. 

CHAPTER XIV. 

CONCLUSION. 

Impressions of the voyage--Sentry-go--Troopship--Limitations--Retrospect--St. Vincent--Forecasts--The Start--The Needles--Southampton Water--Landing--Paddington--A dream. 

I am not going to describe the voyage in detail. Africa, with all itmeant, was behind us, England was before, and the intervening time, monotonous though it was, passed quickly with that absorbing thought. My chief impression is that of living in an eternal jostle; forminginterminable _queues_ outside canteens, washing-places, and stuffyhammock-rooms in narrow alleys, and of leisure hours spent on deckamong a human carpet of khaki, playing euchre, or reading theadvertisement columns of ancient halfpenny papers. There was physicalexercise, and a parade every day, but the chief duty was that ofsentry-go, which recurred to each of us every five days, and lastedfor twenty-four hours. The ship teemed with sentries. To look out forfire was our principal function, and a very important one it was, butI have also vivid recollections of lonely vigils over water-tightdoors in stifling little alley-ways, of directing streams of trafficup troop-deck ladders, and of drowsy sinecures, in the midnight hours, over deserted water-taps and empty wash-houses. These latter, whichcontained fourteen basins between fourteen hundred men, are a goodillustration of the struggle for life in those days. That a sentryshould guard them at night was not unreasonable on the face of it, since I calculated that if every man was to appear washed at the teno'clock parade, the first would have had to begin washing about sixo'clock the night before, allowing ten minutes for a toilet, butunfortunately for this theory, the basins were always locked up atnight. Another grim pleasantry was an order that all should appearshaved at the morning parade. Luckily this cynical regulation wasleniently interpreted, for the spectacle of fourteen hundred razorsflashing together in those narrow limits of time and space was aprospect no humane person could view with anything but horror. 

There was plenty of time to reflect over our experiences in the lastnine months. Summing mine up, I found, and thinking over it at homefind still, little but good in the retrospect. Physically andmentally, I, like many others, have found this short excursion intostrict military life of enormous value. To those who have been luckyenough to escape sickness, the combination of open air and hard workwill act as a lasting tonic against the less healthy conditions oftown-life. It is something, bred up as we have been in a complexcivilization, to have reduced living to its simplest terms and to haverealized how little one really wants. It is much to have learnt thediscipline, self-restraint, endurance and patience which soldieringdemands. (For a driver, it is a liberal education in itself to havelived with and for two horses day and night for eight months!) Perhapsthe best of all is to have given up newspaper reading for a time andhave stepped one's self into the region of open-air facts wherehistory is made and the empire is moulded; to have met and mixed withon that ground, where all classes are fused, not only men of our bloodfrom every quarter of the globe, but men of our own regular army whohad fought that desperate struggle in the early stages of the warbefore we were thought of; to have lived their life, heard theirgrievances, sympathized with their needs, and admired their splendidqualities. 

As to the Battery, it is not for a driver in the ranks to generalizeon its work. But this one can say, that after a long and tryingprobation on the line of communications we did at length do a gooddeal of work and earn the confidence of our Brigadier. We have beenfortunate enough to lose no lives through wounds and only one fromsickness, a fact which speaks highly for our handling in the field byour officers, and for their general management of the Battery. Incidentally, we can fairly claim to have proved, or helped to prove, that Volunteer Artillery can be of use in war; though how much skilland labour is involved in its sudden mobilization only the few ablemen who organized ours in January last can know. 

To return to the _Aurania_. 

On the 19th of October we were anchored at St. Vincent, with thefruit-laden bum-boats swarming alongside, and the donkey-engineschattering, derricks clacking, and coal-dust pervading everything. 

Here we read laconic telegrams from London, speaking of a greatreception before us on Saturday the 27th, and thenceforward the talkwas all of runs, and qualities of coal, and technical mysteries of thetoiling engines, which were straining to bring us home by Fridaynight. Every steward, stoker, and cabin boy had his circle ofdisciples, who quoted and betted on his predictions as though theywere the utterings of an oracle; but the pessimists graduallyprevailed, for we met bad weather and heavy head-seas on entering thebay. It was not till sunrise on Friday itself that we sighted land, awhite spur of cliff, with a faint suggestion of that long unseencolour, green, behind it, seen across some miles of wind-whippedfoaming blue. The optimists said it was the Needles, the pessimiststhe Start; the latter were right, and we guessed we should have towait till Monday before landing; but that did not lessen the delightof watching the familiar shores slide by till the Needles werereached, and then of feasting our eyes, long accustomed to the parchedplains of Africa, on fields and hedges, and familiar signs of homely, peaceful life. 

It was four o'clock when we dropped anchor in Southampton Water, andwere shouting a thousand questions at the occupants of a tug which layalongside, and learnt with wonder, emotion, and a strange sense ofunworthiness, of the magnificent welcome that London had prepared forus. 

The interminable day of waiting; the landing on the quay, with itscheering crowds; that wonderful journey to London, with its growingtumult of feelings, as station after station, with their ribboned andshouting throngs, flashed by; the meeting at Paddington with ourcomrades of the Honourable Artillery Company, bringing us their gunsand horses; the mounting of a glossy, smartly-equipped steed, whichmade me laughingly recall my shaggy old pair, with their dusty, travel-worn harness; all this I see clearly enough. The rest seems adream; a dream of miles of upturned faces, of dancing colours, ofroaring voices, of a sudden dim hush in the great Cathedral, of moremiles of faces under gaslight, of a voice in a packed hall saying, "London is proud of her--, " of disconnected confidences withpolicemen, work-people, street-arabs, and finally of the entry oncemore through the old grey gateway of the Armoury House. I expect thefeelings of all of us were much the same; some honest pride in havinghelped to earn such a welcome; a sort of stunned bewilderment at itstouching and passionate intensity; a deep wave of affection for ourcountrymen; and a thought in the background all the time of a dustykhaki figure still plodding the distant veldt--our friend and comrade, Atkins, who has done more and bloodier work than we, and who is not atthe end of it yet. 

THE END.