LONDON TO LADYSMITH VIA PRETORIA

BY

WINSTON SPENCER CHURCHILL

 AUTHOR OF 'THE STORY OF THE MALAKAND FIELD FORCE, 1897', 'THE RIVER WAR: AN HISTORICAL ACCOUNT OF THE RECONQUEST OF THE SOUDAN', 'SAVROLA: A ROMANCE'

 LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO. 39 PATERNOSTER ROW, LONDON NEW YORK AND BOMBAY 1900

DEDICATION

 THIS COLLECTION OF LETTERS IS INSCRIBED TO

 THE STAFF OF THE NATAL GOVERNMENT RAILWAY

 WHOSE CAREFUL AND COURAGEOUS DISCHARGE OF THEIR EVERY-DAY DUTIES AMID THE PERILS OF WAR HAS MADE THEM HONOURABLY CONSPICUOUS EVEN AMONG THEIR FELLOW COLONISTS

INTRODUCTORY NOTE

This small book is mainly a personal record of my adventures andimpressions during the first five months of the African War. It may alsobe found to give a tolerably coherent account of the operationsconducted by Sir Redvers Buller for the Relief of Ladysmith. Thecorrespondence of which it is mainly composed appeared in the columns ofthe _Morning Post_ newspaper, and I propose, if I am not interrupted bythe accidents of war, to continue the series of letters. The stir andtumult of a camp do not favour calm or sustained thought, and whateveris written herein must be regarded simply as the immediate effectproduced by men powerfully moved, and scenes swiftly changing upon whatI hope is a truth-seeking mind. 

The fact that a man's life depends upon my discretion compels me to omitan essential part of the story of my escape from the Boers; but if thebook and its author survive the war, and when the British flag is firmlyplanted at Bloemfontein and Pretoria, I shall hasten to fill the gap inthe narrative. 

 WINSTON S. CHURCHILL. _March 10, 1900_. 

CONTENTS

 I. STEAMING SOUTH R. M. S. 'Dunottar Castle, ' October 26 and October 29, 1899

 II. THE STATE OF THE GAME Capetown; November 1, 1899

 III. ALONG THE SOUTHERN FRONTIER East London: November 5, 1899

 IV. IN NATAL Estcourt: November 6, 1899

 V. A CRUISE IN THE ARMOURED TRAIN Estcourt: November 9, 1899

 VI. DISTANT GUNS Estcourt: November 10, 1899

 VII. THE FATE OF THE ARMOURED TRAIN Pretoria: November 20, 1899

 VIII. PRISONERS OF WAR Pretoria: November 24, 1899

 IX. THROUGH THE DUTCH CAMPS Pretoria: November 30, 1899

 X. IN AFRIKANDER BONDS Pretoria: December 3, 1899

 XI. I ESCAPE FROM THE BOERS Lourenço Marques: December 22, 1899

 XII. BACK TO THE BRITISH LINES Frere: December 24, 1899

 XIII. CHRISTMAS AND NEW YEAR Frere: January 4, 1900

 XIV. A MILITARY DEMONSTRATION AND SOME GOOD NEWS Chieveley: January 8, 1900

 XV. THE DASH FOR POTGIETER'S FERRY Spearman's Hill: January 13, 1900

 XVI. TRICHARDT'S DRIFT AND THE AFFAIR OF ACTON HOMES Venter's Spruit: January 22, 1900

 XVII. THE BATTLE OF SPION KOP Venter's Spruit: January 25, 1900

 XVIII. THROUGH THE FIVE DAYS' ACTION Venter's Spruit: January 25, 1900

 XIX. A FRESH-EFFORT AND AN ARMY CHAPLAIN Spearman's Hill: February 4, 1900

 XX. THE COMBAT OF VAAL KRANTZ General Buller's Headquarters: February 9, 1900

 XXI. HUSSAR HILL General Buller's Headquarters: February 15, 1900

 XXII. THE ENGAGEMENT OF MONTE CRISTO Cingolo Neck: February 19, 1900

 XXIII. THE PASSAGE OF THE TUGELA Hospital-ship 'Maine': March 4, 1900

 XXIV. THE BATTLE OF PIETERS: THE THIRD DAY Hospital-ship 'Maine': March 5, 1900

 XXV. UPON MAJUBA DAY Commandant's Office, Durban: March 6, 1900

 XXVI. THE RELIEF OF LADYSMITH Commandant's Office, Durban: March 9, 1900

 XXVII. AFTER THE SIEGE Durban: March 10, 1900

CHAPTER I

STEAMING SOUTH

R. M. S. 'Dunottar Castle, ' at sea: October 26, 1899. 

The last cry of 'Any more for the shore?' had sounded, the last good-byehad been said, the latest pressman or photographer had scrambled ashore, and all Southampton was cheering wildly along a mile of pier andpromontory when at 6 P. M. , on October 14, the Royal Mail steamer'Dunottar Castle' left her moorings and sailed with Sir Redvers Bullerfor the Cape. For a space the decks remained crowded with the passengerswho, while the sound of many voices echoed in their ears, looked backtowards the shores swiftly fading in the distance and the twilight, andwondered whether, and if so when, they would come safe home again; theneveryone hurried to his cabin, arranged his luggage, and resignedhimself to the voyage. 

What an odious affair is a modern sea journey! In ancient times therewere greater discomforts and perils; but they were recognised. A mantook ship prepared for the worst. Nowadays he expects the best as amatter of course, and is, therefore, disappointed. Besides, how slowlywe travel! In the sixteenth century nobody minded taking five months toget anywhere. But a fortnight is a large slice out of the nineteenthcentury; and the child of civilisation, long petted by Science, impatiently complains to his indulgent guardian of all delay in travel, and petulantly calls on her to complete her task and finally eliminatethe factor of distance from human calculations. A fortnight is a longtime in modern life. It is also a long time in modern war--especially atthe beginning. To be without news for a fortnight at any time isannoying. To be without news for a fortnight now is a torture. And thisvoyage lasts more than a fortnight! At the very outset of ourenterprise we are compelled to practise Mr. Morley's policy of patience. 

We left London amid rumours of all kinds. The Metropolis was shrouded ina fog of credulous uncertainty, broken only by the sinister gleam of theplacarded lie or the croak of the newsman. Terrible disastershad occurred and had been contradicted; great battles wereraging--unconfirmed; and beneath all this froth the tide of war wasreally flowing, and no man could shut his eyes to grave possibilities. Then the ship sailed, and all was silence--a heaving silence. ButMadeira was scarcely four days' journey. There we should find theanswers to many questions. At Madeira, however, we learned nothing, butnothing, though satisfactory, is very hard to understand. Why did theydeclare war if they had nothing up their sleeves? Why are they wastingtime now? Such were the questions. Then we sailed again, and againsilence shut down, this time, however, on a more even keel. 

Speculation arises out of ignorance. Many and various are thepredictions as to what will be the state of the game when we shall havecome to anchor in Table Bay. Forecasts range from the capture ofPretoria by Sir George White and the confinement of President Kruger inthe deepest level beneath the Johannesburg Exchange, on the one hand, tothe surrender of Cape Town to the Boers, the proclamation of Mr. Schreiner as King of South Africa, and a fall of two points in RandMines on the other. Between these wild extremes all shades of opinionare represented. Only one possibility is unanimously excluded--aninconclusive peace. There are on board officers who travelled this roadeighteen years ago with Lord Roberts, and reached Cape Town only toreturn by the next boat. But no one anticipates such a result this time. 

Monotony is the characteristic of a modern voyage, and who shalldescribe it? The lover of realism might suggest that writing the sameparagraph over and over again would enable the reader to experience itsweariness, if he were truly desirous of so doing. But I hesitate totake such a course, and trust that some of these lines even oncerepeated may convey some inkling of the dulness of the days. Monotony ofview--for we live at the centre of a complete circle of sea and sky;monotony of food--for all things taste the same on board ship; monotonyof existence--for each day is but a barren repetition of the last; allfall to the lot of the passenger on great waters. It were malevolent totry to bring the realisation home to others. Yet all earthly evils havetheir compensations, and even monotony is not without its secret joy. For a time we drop out of the larger world, with its interests and itsobligations, and become the independent citizens of a tiny State:--aUtopian State where few toil and none go hungry--bounded on all sides bythe sea and vassal only to the winds and waves. Here during a periodwhich is too long while it lasts, too short when it is over, we mayplacidly reflect on the busy world that lies behind and the tumult thatis before us. The journalists read books about South Africa; thepolitician--were the affair still in the domain of words--might examinethe justice of the quarrel. The Headquarter Staff pore over maps orcalculate the sizes of camps and entrenchments; and in the meantime thegreat ship lurches steadily forward on her course, carrying to the southat seventeen miles an hour schemes and intentions of war. 

But let me record the incidents rather than their absence. One day thefirst shoal of flying fish is seen--a flight of glittering birds that, flushed by the sudden approach of the vessel, skim away over the watersand turn in the cover of a white-topped wave. On another we crossed theEquator. Neptune and his consort boarded us near the forecastle andparaded round the ship in state. Never have I seen such a draggle-taileddivinity. An important feature in the ritual which he prescribes is theshaving and ducking of all who have not passed the line before. But ourattitude was strictly Erastian, and the demigod retired discomfited tothe second class, where from the sounds which arose he seemed to findmore punctilious votaries. On the 23rd we sighted a sail--or rather thesmoke of another steamer. As the comparatively speedy 'Dunottar Castle'overtook the stranger everybody's interest was aroused. Under thescrutiny of many brand-new telescopes and field glasses--for all want tosee as much of a war as possible--she developed into the 'Nineveh, 'hired transport carrying the Australian Lancers to the Cape. Signalswere exchanged. The vessels drew together, and after an hour's steamingwe passed her almost within speaking distance. The General went up tothe bridge. The Lancers crowded the bulwarks and rigging of the'Nineveh' and one of them waggled a flag violently. An officer on ourship replied with a pocket-handkerchief. The Australians askedquestions: 'Is Sir Redvers Buller on board?' The answer 'Yes' wassignalled back, and immediately the Lancers gave three tremendouscheers, waving their broad-brimmed hats and gesticulating with energywhile the steam siren emitted a frantic whoop of salutation. Then thespeed of the larger vessel told, and we drew ahead of the transportuntil her continued cheers died away. She signalled again: 'What won theCesarewitch?' But the distance was now too great for us to learn whetherthe answer gave satisfaction or not. 

We have a party of cinematographers on board, and when they found thatwe were going to speak the 'Nineveh' they bustled about preparing theirapparatus. But the cumbrous appliances took too long to set up, and, tothe bitter disappointment of the artists, the chance of making a movingpicture was lost for ever; and indeed it was a great pity, because thelong green transport, pitching in the sea, now burying her bows in foam, now showing the red paint of her bottom, her decks crowded with theactive brown figures of the soldiers, her halyards bright with signalflags, was a scene well worth recording even if it had not been thegreeting given in mid-ocean to the commander of the army by the warlikecontingent which the need or convenience of the Empire had drawn fromthe Antipodes. 

South of the line the weather cools rapidly, and various theories areadvanced to explain the swift change. According to some, it is due tothe masses of ice at the Antarctic Pole; others contend that it isbecause we are further from the land. But whatever the cause may be, thefall in temperature produces a rise in spirits, and under greyer skieseveryone develops activity. The consequence of this is the organisationof athletic sports. A committee is appointed. Sir Redvers Buller becomesPresident. A two days' meeting is arranged, and on successive afternoonsthe more energetic passengers race violently to and fro on the decks, belabour each other with bolsters, or tumble into unforeseen troughs ofwater to their huge contentment and the diversion of the rest. 

Occasionally there are light gusts of controversy. It is Sunday. Theparson proposes to read the service. The captain objects. He insists onthe maintenance of naval supremacy. On board ship, 'or at any rate onboard this ship, ' no one but the captain reads the service. Theminister, a worthy Irishman, abandons the dispute--not without regret. 'Any other clergyman of the Church of England, ' he observes with warmth, 'would have told the captain to go to Hell. '

Then there is to be a fancy dress ball. Opinions are divided. On the onepart it is urged that fancy dress balls are healthy and amusing. On theother, that they are exceedingly tiresome. The discussion is prolonged. In the end the objectors are overruled--still objecting. Such are thepolitics of the State. 

Inoculation against enteric fever proceeds daily. The doctors lecture inthe saloon. One injection of serum protects; a second secures thesubject against attacks. Wonderful statistics are quoted in support ofthe experiment. Nearly everyone is convinced. The operations take placeforthwith, and the next day sees haggard forms crawling about the deckin extreme discomfort and high fever. The day after, however, all haverecovered and rise gloriously immune. Others, like myself, rememberingthat we still stand only on the threshold of pathology, remainunconvinced, resolved to trust to 'health and the laws of health. ' Butif they will, invent a system of inoculation against bullet wounds Iwill hasten to submit myself. 

Yesterday we passed a homeward-bound liner, who made great efforts tosignal to us, but as she was a Union boat the captain refused to go nearenough to read the flags, and we still remain ignorant of the state ofthe war. If the great lines of steamships to the Cape were to competeagainst each other, as do those of the Atlantic, by increasing theirspeeds, by lowering their rates, by improving the food andaccommodation, no one would complain, but it is difficult to see how thepublic can be the gainers by the silly antagonism I have described. However, the end is drawing very near, and since we have had a safe andprosperous journey criticism may well waive the opportunity. Yet thereare few among the travellers who will not experience a keen feeling ofrelief in exchanging the pettiness, the monotony, and the isolation ofthe voyage for the activity of great enterprise and the interest of realaffairs: a relief which may, perhaps, be shared by the reader of theseletters. Yet if he has found the account of a dull voyage dull, heshould not complain; for is not that successful realism?

October 29. 

News at last! This morning we sighted a sail--a large homeward-boundsteamer, spreading her canvas to catch the trades, and with who shouldsay what tidings on board. We crowded the decks, and from every point ofview telescopes, field glasses, and cameras were directed towards thestranger. She passed us at scarcely two hundred yards, and as she did soher crew and company, giving three hearty cheers, displayed a long blackboard, on which was written in white paint: 'Boers defeated; threebattles; Penn Symons killed. ' There was a little gasp of excitement. Everyone stepped back from the bulwarks. Those who had not seen raneagerly up to ask what had happened. A dozen groups were formed, a humof conversation arose, and meanwhile the vessels separated--for the paceof each was swift--and in a few moments the homeward bound lay far inour wake. 

What does it mean--this scrap of intelligence which tells so much andleaves so much untold? To-morrow night we shall know all. This at leastis certain: there has been fierce fighting in Natal, and, under Heaven, we have held our own: perhaps more. 'Boers defeated. ' Let us thank Godfor that. The brave garrisons have repelled the invaders. The luck hasturned at last. The crisis is over, and the army now on the seas maymove with measured strides to effect a final settlement that is bothwise and just. In that short message eighteen years of heartburnings arehealed. The abandoned colonist, the shamed soldier, the 'cowardlyEnglishman, ' the white flag, the 'How about Majuba?'--all gone for ever. At last--'the Boers defeated. ' Hurrah! Hurrah! Hurrah!

So Sir Penn Symons is killed! Well, no one would have laid down his lifemore gladly in such a cause. Twenty years ago the merest chance savedhim from the massacre at Isandhlwana, and Death promoted him in anafternoon from subaltern to senior captain. Thenceforward his rise wasrapid. He commanded the First Division of the Tirah Expeditionary Forceamong the mountains with prudent skill. His brigades had no misfortunes:his rearguards came safely into camp. In the spring of 1898, when thearmy lay around Fort Jumrood, looking forward to a fresh campaign, Iused often to meet him. Everyone talked of Symons, of his energy, of hisjokes, of his enthusiasm. It was Symons who had built a racecourse onthe stony plain; who had organised the Jumrood Spring Meeting; who wonthe principal event himself, to the delight of the private soldiers, with whom he was intensely popular; who, moreover, was to be first andforemost if the war with the tribes broke out again; and who wasentrusted with much of the negotiations with their _jirgas_. Dinner withSymons in the mud tower of Jumrood Fort was an experience. The memoryof many tales of sport and war remains. At the end the General woulddrink the old Peninsular toasts: 'Our Men, ' 'Our Women, ' 'Our Religion, ''Our Swords, ' 'Ourselves, ' 'Sweethearts and Wives, ' and 'AbsentFriends'--one for every night in the week. The night when I dined thetoast was 'Our Men. ' May the State in her necessities find others likehim!

CHAPTER II

THE STATE OF THE GAME

Cape Town: November 1, 1899. 

The long-drawn voyage came to an end at last. On the afternoon ofOctober 30 we sighted land, and looking westward I perceived what lookedlike a dark wave of water breaking the smooth rim of the horizon. Ashort time developed the wave into the rocks and slopes of RobbenIsland--a barren spot inhabited by lepers, poisonous serpents, and dogsundergoing quarantine. Then with the darkness we entered Table Bay, and, steaming slowly, reached the anchorage at ten o'clock. Another hour ofwaiting followed until the tugboat obeyed the signal; but at last sheran alongside, and there stepped on board a Man Who Knew. Others withdespatches pushed roughly through the crowd of soldiers, officers, passengers, and war correspondents to the General's cabin. We caught theMan Who Knew, however, and, setting him half way up the ladder to thehurricane deck, required him forthwith to tell us of the war. Doubtlessyou have been well informed of all, or at any rate of much, that haspassed. The man told his story quickly, with an odd quiver of excitementin his voice, and the audience--perhaps we were 300--listenedbreathless. Then for the first time we heard of Elandslaagte, ofGlencoe, of Rietfontein, a tale of stubborn, well-fought fights withhonour for both sides, triumph for neither. 'Tell us about thelosses--who are killed and wounded?' we asked this wonderful man. Ithink he was a passage agent or something like that. 

So he told us--and among the group of officers gathered above him on thehurricane deck I saw now one, now another, turn away, and hurry out ofthe throng. A gentleman I had met on the voyage--Captain Weldonaskedquestions. 'Do you know any names of killed in the Leicesters?' The manreflected. He could not be sure: he thought there was an officer namedWeldon killed--oh, yes! he remembered there were two Weldons--onekilled, one wounded, but he did not know which was in the Leicesters. 'Tell us about Mafeking, ' said someone else. Then we heard aboutMafeking--the armoured trains, the bombardment, the sorties, thedynamite wagons--all, in fact, that is yet known of what may become anhistoric defence. 'And how many Boers are killed?' cried a privatesoldier from the back. The man hesitated, but the desire to please wasstrong within him. 'More than two thousand, ' he said, and a fierce shoutof joy answered him. The crowd of brown uniforms under the electricclusters broke up into loud-voiced groups; some hastened to search fornewspapers, some to repeat what they had heard to others; only a fewleaned against the bulwarks and looked long and silently towards theland, where the lights of Cape Town, its streets, its quays, and itshouses gleamed from the night like diamonds on black velvet. 

It is along casualty list of officers--of the best officers in theworld. The brave and accomplished General of Glencoe; Colonel Chisholme, who brought the 9th Lancers out of action in Afghanistan; Sherston, whomanaged the Indian Polo Association; Haldane, Sir William Lockhart'sbrilliant aide-de-camp; Barnes, adjutant of the 4th Hussars, who playedback of our team and went with me to Cuba; Brooke, who had temptedfortune more often than anyone else in the last four years--Chitral, Matabeleland, Samana, Tira, Atbara, and Omdurman--and fifty others whoare only names to me, but are dear and precious to many, all lying underthe stony soil or filling the hospitals at Pietermaritzburg and Durban. Two thousand Boers killed! I wish I could believe there were. 

Next morning Sir Redvers Buller landed in state. Sir F. Forestier-Walkerand his staff came to meet him. The ship was decked out in bunting fromend to end. A guard of honour of the Duke of Edinburgh's Volunteerslined the quay; a mounted escort attended the carriage; an enormouscrowd gathered outside the docks. At nine o'clock precisely the Generalstepped on to the gangway. The crew and stokers of the 'Dunottar Castle'gave three hearty cheers; the cinematograph buzzed loudly; forty camerasclicked; the guard presented arms, and the harbour batteries thunderedthe salute. Then the carriage drove briskly off into the town throughstreets bright with waving flags and black with cheering people. So SirRedvers Buller came back again to South Africa, the land where his firstmilitary reputation was made, where he won his Victoria Cross, the landwhich--let us pray--he will leave having successfully discharged theheavy task confided to him by the Imperial Government. 

Now, what is the situation which confronts the General and the army? Iwill adventure an explanation, though the picture of war moves veryswiftly. In their dealing with the military republics which had becomeso formidable a power throughout the Cape, the Ministers who wereresponsible for the security of our South African possessions werecompelled to reckon with two volumes of public opinion--British andcolonial. The colonial opinion was at its best (from our point of view)about three months ago. But the British opinion was still unformed. Thedelays and diplomatic disputes which have gradually roused the nation toa sense of its responsibilities and perils, and which were absolutelynecessary if we were to embark on the struggle united, have had anopposite effect out here. The attempts to satisfy the conscientiouspublic by giving the republics every possible opportunity to accept ourterms and the delays in the despatch of troops which were an expensivetribute to the argument 'Do not seek peace with a sword, ' have beenmisinterpreted in South Africa. The situation in the Cape Colony hasbecome much graver. We have always been told of the wonderful loyalty ofthe Dutch. It is possible that had war broken out three months ago thatloyalty would have been demonstrated for all time. War after threemonths of hesitation--for such it was considered--has proved too severea test, and it is no exaggeration to say that a considerable part of theColony trembles on the verge of rebellion. On such a state of publicopinion the effect of any important military reverse would belamentable. 

Nor is the military position such as to exclude anxiety. The swift flameof war ran in a few days around the whole circle of the republicanfrontiers. Far away to the north there was a skirmish at Tuli. On thewest Khama's territories are threatened with invasion. Mafeking issurrounded, isolated, and manfully defending itself against continualattack. Vryburg has been treacherously surrendered by its rebelinhabitants to the enemy. Kimberley offers a serene front to ahesitating attack, and even retaliates with armoured trains and otherenterprises. The southern frontier is armed, and menaced, and theexpectation of collision is strong. But it is on the eastern side thatthe Boers have concentrated their greatest energies. They have gone Napon Natal. The configuration of the country favours an invader. Thereader has scarcely to look at the map, with which he is alreadyfamiliar, to realise how strategically powerful the Boer position wasand is. The long tongue of plain running up into the mountains could beentered from both sides. The communications of the advanced garrisonswould be assailed: their retreat imperilled. The Boers seemed bound toclear northern Natal of the troops. If, on the other hand, they were, orshould now be, suddenly driven back on their own country, they have onlyto retire up the tongue of plain, with their exposed front narrowingevery mile between the mountains, and await their pursuers on the almostinexpugnable position of Laing's Nek. Appreciating all this, theirleaders have wisely resolved to put forth their main strength againstthe force in Natal, and by crushing it to rouse their sympathiserswithin the Cape Colony. Should they succeed either on this front or onany other to a serious extent, though the disaffection would not take avery violent form, for all the bravoes have already joined the enemy, the general insecurity would demand the employment of an army corps inaddition to that already on the seas. 

A democratic Government cannot go to war unless the country is behindit, and until it has general support must not place itself in a positionwhence, without fighting, there is no retreat. The difficulty ofrallying public opinion in the face of the efforts of Mr. Morley, Mr. Courtney, Sir William Harcourt, and others have caused a most dangerousdelay in the despatch of reinforcements. War has been aggravated by thePeace Party; and thus these humanitarian gentlemen are personally--forthey occupy no official position--responsible for the great loss oflife. They will find their several consolations: Mr. Morley will rejoicethat he has faithfully pursued Mr. Gladstone's policy in South Africa;Mr. Courtney that he has been consistent at all costs; Sir WilliamHarcourt that he has hampered the Government. But for those who losetheir sons and brothers in a quarrel thus unnecessarily extended, therewill only remain vain regrets, and to the eyewitness only a bitteranger. 

For the last three months the Imperial Government has been in theunpleasant position of watching its adversaries grow continuallystronger without being able to make adequate counter-preparations. 

But when once this initial disability has been stated, it must also beadmitted that the course of the military operations has been--apart fromtheir success or failure--very lucky. The Boers had the advantage ofdrawing first blood, and the destruction of the armoured train nearMafeking was magnified by them, as by the sensational Press in GreatBritain, into a serious disaster. A very bad effect was produced in theundecided districts--it is perhaps wiser not to specify them at thismoment. But a few days later another armoured train ran out fromKimberley, and its Maxim guns killed five Boers without any loss to thetroops. The magnifying process was also applied to this incident withequal though opposite results. Then came the news of the battle ofGlencoe. The first accounts, which were very properly controlled--for weare at war with the pen as well as the sword--told only of the braveryof the troops, of the storming of the Boer position, and of the captureof prisoners. That the troops had suffered the heavier loss, that theBoers had retired to further positions in rear of the first, drawingtheir artillery with them, and that General Yule had retreated by forcedmarches to Ladysmith after the victory--for tactical victory itundoubtedly was--leaked into Cape Colony very gradually; nor was ituntil a week later that it was known that the wounded had been leftbehind, and that the camp with all stores and baggage, exceptammunition, had fallen into the enemy's hands. Before that happened thenews of Elandslaagte had arrived, and this brilliant action, whichreflects no less credit on Generals French and Hamilton who fought itthan on Sir George White who ordered it, dazzled all eyes, so that thesequel to Glencoe was unnoticed, or at any rate produced little effecton public opinion. 

The Natal Field Force is now concentrated at Ladysmith, and confrontsin daily opposition the bulk of the Boer Army. Though the numbers of theenemy are superior and their courage claims the respect of theirprofessional antagonists, it is difficult to believe that any seriousreverse can take place in that quarter, and meanwhile many thousandsoldiers are on the seas. But the fact is now abundantly plain to thosewho are acquainted with the local conditions and with the Boercharacter, that a fierce, certainly bloody, possibly prolonged strugglelies before the army of South Africa. The telegrams, however, which wereceive from Great Britain of the national feeling, of the bye-election, of Lord Rosebery's speech, are full of encouragement and confidence. 'Atlast, ' says the British colonist, as he shoulders his rifle and marchesout to fight, no less bravely than any soldier (witness the casualtylists), for the ties which bind South Africa to the Empire--'at lastthey have made up their minds at home. '

CHAPTER III

ALONG THE SOUTHERN FRONTIER

East London: November 5, 1899. 

We have left Headquarters busy with matters that as yet concern no onebut themselves in the Mount Nelson Hotel at Cape Town--a most excellentand well-appointed establishment, which may be thoroughly appreciatedafter a sea voyage, and which, since many of the leading Uitlanders havetaken up their abode there during the war, is nicknamed 'The Helot'sRest. ' Last night I started by rail for East London, whence a small shipcarries the weekly English mail to Natal, and so by this circuitousroute I hope to reach Ladysmith on Sunday morning. We have thus gainedthree days on our friends who proceed by the 'Dunottar Castle, ' and whowere mightily concerned when they heard--too late to follow--of ourintentions. But though it is true in this case that the longest wayround is the shortest way, there were possibilities of our journey beinginterrupted, because the line from De Aar Junction to Naauwpoort runsparallel to the southern frontier of the Free State, and though hostileenterprises have not yet been attempted against this section of therailways they must always be expected. 

Railway travelling in South Africa is more expensive but just ascomfortable as in India. Lying-down accommodation is provided for all, and meals can be obtained at convenient stopping places. The train, which is built on the corridor system, runs smoothly over the rails--sosmoothly, indeed, that I found no difficulty in writing. The sun iswarm, and the air keen and delicious. But the scenery would depress themost buoyant spirits. We climbed up the mountains during the night, andwith the daylight the train was in the middle of the Great Karroo. Wherefore was this miserable land of stone and scrub created? Hugemounds of crumbling rock, fashioned by the rains into the most curiousand unexpected shapes, rise from the gloomy desert of the plain. Yet, though the Karroo looks a hopeless wilderness, flocks of sheep atdistant intervals--one sheep requires six hundred acres of this scrappypasture for nourishment--manage to subsist; and in consequence, now andagain the traveller sees some far-off farm. 

We look about eagerly for signs of war. Little is as yet to be seen, andthe Karroo remains unsympathetic. But all along the southern frontier ofthe Free State the expectation of early collision grows. The first signafter leaving Cape Town is the Proclamation against treason published bySir Alfred Milner. The notice-boards of the railway stations are freelyplacarded with the full text in English and Dutch, beginning with'Whereas a state of war exists between the Government of her Majesty andthe Governments of the South African Republic and of the Orange FreeState . .. ' continuing to enjoin good and loyal behaviour on all, detailing the pains and penalties for disobedience, and ending with 'Godsave the Queen. ' Both races have recorded their opinions on theirrespective versions: the British by underlining the penalties, the Dutchby crossing out the first word of 'God Save the Queen. ' It is signed 'A. Milner, ' and below, in bitter irony, 'W. P. Schreiner. '

Beyond Matjesfontein every bridge, and even every culvert, is watched bya Kaffir with a flag, so that the train runs no risk of coming onunexpected demolitions. On the road to De Aar we passed the second halfof the Brigade Division of Artillery, which sailed so long ago from theMersey in the notorious transports 'Zibengla' and 'Zayathla. ' Thegunners were hurrying to the front in three long trains, each takinghalf a battery complete with guns, horses, and men. All werelight-hearted and confident, as soldiers going off to the wars alwaysare, and in this case their, satisfaction at being on land after fiveweeks of uncomfortable voyage in antiquated ships was easily to beunderstood. But this is no time for reproaches. 

At Beaufort West grave news awaited the mail, and we learned of thecapitulation of twelve hundred soldiers near Ladysmith. It is generallybelieved that this will precipitate a rising of the Dutch throughoutthis part of the colony and an invasion by the commandos now gatheredalong the Orange River. The Dutch farmers talk loudly and confidently of'our victories, ' meaning those of the Boers, and the racial feeling runshigh. But the British colonists have an implicit faith--marvellous whenthe past is remembered--in the resolve of the Imperial Government and ofthe nation never to abandon them again. 

At De Aar the stage of our journey which may be said to have beenuncertain began. Armoured trains patrol the line; small parties of armedpolice guard the bridges; infantry and artillery detachments occupy thetowns. De Aar, Colesberg, and Stormberg are garrisoned as strongly asthe present limited means allow, and all the forces, regulars andvolunteers alike, are full of enthusiasm. But, on the other hand, thereports of Boer movements seem to indicate that a hostile advance isimminent. The Colesberg bridge across the Orange River has been seizedby the enemy, the line between Bethulie and Colesberg has just been cut, and each train from De Aar to Stormberg is expected to be the last topass unassailed. We, however, slept peacefully through the night, and, passing Colesberg safely, arrived at Stormberg, beyond which all isagain secure. 

Stormberg Junction stands at the southern end of a wide expanse ofrolling grass country, and though the numerous rocky hills, or kopjes asthey are called, which rise inconveniently on all sides, make itsdefence by a small force difficult, a large force occupying an extendedposition would be secure. Here we found the confirmation of manyrumours. The news of a Boer advance on Burghersdorp, twenty-five milesaway, is, it seems, well founded, and when our train arrived theevacuation of Stormberg by its garrison, of a half-battalion of theBerkshire Regiment, 350 men of the Naval Brigade, a company of mountedinfantry, and a few guns, was busily proceeding. 

The sailors were already in their train, and only prevented fromstarting by the want of an engine. The infantry and artillery were tostart in a few hours. It is rather an unsatisfactory business, thoughthe arrival of more powerful forces will soon restore the situation. Stormberg is itself an important railway junction. For more than a weekthe troops have been working night and day to put it in a state ofdefence. Little redoubts have been built on the kopjes, entrenchmentshave been dug, and the few houses near the station are already stronglyfortified. I was shown one of these by the young officer in charge. Theapproaches were, cleared of everything except wire fences andentanglements; the massive walls were loopholed, the windows barricadedwith sandbags, and the rooms inside broken one into the other forconvenience in moving about. 

Its garrison of twenty-five men and its youthful commander surveyed thework with pride. They had laid in stores of all kinds for ten days, andnone doubted that Fort Chabrol, as they called it, would stand a gallantsiege. Then suddenly had come the message to evacuate and retreat. So itwas with the others. The train with the naval detachment and its gunssteamed off, and we gave it a feeble cheer. Another train awaited theBerkshires. The mounted infantry were already on the march. 'Mayn't weeven blow up this lot?' said a soldier, pointing to the house he hadhelped to fortify. But there was no such order, only this onewhich seemed to pervade the air: 'The enemy are coming. Retreat--retreat--retreat!' The stationmaster--one of the best types ofEnglishmen to be found on a long journey--was calm and cheerful. 

'No more traffic north of this, ' he said. 'Yours was the last trainthrough from De Aar. I shall send away all my men by the specialto-night. And that's the end as far as Stormberg goes. '

'And you?'

'Oh, I shall stay. I have lived here for twelve years, and am wellknown. Perhaps I may be able to protect the company's property. '

While we waited the armoured train returned from patrolling--an enginebetween two carriages cloaked from end to end with thick plates andslabs of blue-grey iron. It had seen nothing of the advancing Boers, but, like us and like the troops, it had to retire southwards. Therewere fifty Uitlanders from Johannesburg on the platform. They had beenemployed entrenching; now they were bundled back again towards EastLondon. 

So we left Stormberg in much anger and some humiliation, and jolted awaytowards the open sea, where British supremacy is not yet contested bythe Boer. At Molteno we picked up a hundred volunteers--fine-lookingfellows all eager to encounter the enemy, but much surprised at the turnevents had taken. They, too, were ordered to fall back. The Boers wereadvancing, and to despondent minds even the rattle of the train seemedto urge 'Retreat, retreat, retreat. '

I do not desire to invest this wise and prudent though discouraging movewith more than its proper importance. Anything is better than to leavesmall garrisons to be overwhelmed. Until the Army Corps comes, thesituation will continue to be unsatisfactory, and the ground to berecovered afterwards will increase in extent. But with the arrival ofpowerful and well-equipped forces the tide of war will surely turn. 

CHAPTER IV

IN NATAL

Estcourt: November 6, 1899. 

The reader may remember that we started post haste from Cape Town, and, having the good fortune to pass along the southern frontier from De Aarto Stormberg by the last train before the interruption of traffic, hadevery hope of reaching Ladysmith while its investment was incomplete. Ihad looked forward to writing an account of our voyage from East Londonto Durban while on board the vessel; but the weather was so tempestuous, and the little steamer of scarcely 100 tons burthen so buffeted by thewaves, that I lay prostrate in all the anguish of sea-sickness, and hadno thought for anything else. Moreover, we were delayed some twentyhours by contrary winds; nor was it until we had passed St. John's thatthe gale, as if repenting, veered suddenly to the south-west and addedas much to our speed as it had formerly delayed us. With the change ofthe wind the violence of the waves to some degree abated, and, thoughunable to then record them on paper, I had an opportunity of gainingsome impressions of the general aspect of the coasts of Pondoland andNatal. These beautiful countries stretch down to the ocean in smoothslopes of the richest verdure, broken only at intervals by lofty bluffscrowned with forests. The many rivulets to which the pasture owes itslife and the land its richness glide to the shore through deep-setcreeks and chines, or plunge over the cliffs in cascades which thestrong winds scatter into clouds of spray. 

These are regions of possibility, and as we drove along before our nowfriendly wind I could not but speculate on the future. Here are widetracts of fertile soil watered by abundant rains. The temperate sunwarms the life within the soil. The cooling breeze refreshes theinhabitant. The delicious climate stimulates the vigour of the European. The highway of the sea awaits the produce of his labour. All Naturesmiles, and here at last is a land where white men may rule and prosper. As yet only the indolent Kaffir enjoys its bounty, and, according to theantiquated philosophy of Liberalism, it is to such that it should forever belong. But while Englishmen choke and fester in crowded cities, while thousands of babies are born every month who are never to have afair chance in life, there will be those who will dream another dream ofa brave system of State-aided--almost State-compelled--emigration, ascheme of old age pensions that shall anticipate old age, and bypreventing paupers terminate itself; a system that shall remove theexcess of the old land to provide the deficiency of the new, and shalloffer even to the most unfortunate citizen of the Empire fresh air andopen opportunity. And as I pondered on all these things, the face of thecountry seemed changed. Thriving ports and townships rose up along theshore, and, upon the hillsides, inland towers, spires, and tall chimneysattested the wealth and industry of men. Here in front of us was NewBrighton; the long shelving ledge of rock was a seawall already made, rows of stately buildings covered the grassy slopes; the shipping ofmany nations lay in the roadstead; above the whole scene waved The Flag, and in the foreground on the sandy beach the great-grandchildren of thecrossing-sweeper and the sandwich-man sported by the waves that beat bythe Southern Pole, or sang aloud for joy in the beauty of their home andthe pride of their race. And then with a lurch--for the motion was stillconsiderable--I came back from the land of dreams to reality and thehideous fact that Natal is invaded and assailed by the Boer. 

The little steamer reached Durban safely at midnight on November 4, andwe passed an impatient six hours in a sleeping town waiting for daylightand news. Both came in their turn. The sun rose, and we learned thatLadysmith was cut off. Still, 'As far as you can as quickly as you can'must be the motto of the war correspondent, and seven o'clock found usspeeding inland in the extra coach of a special train carrying themails. The hours I passed in Durban were not without occupation. Thehospital ship 'Sumatra' lay close to our moorings, and as soon as it waslight I visited her to look for friends, and found, alas! several in asorry plight. All seemed to be as well as the tenderest care and themost lavish expenditure of money could make them. All told much the sametale--the pluck and spirit of the troops, the stubborn unpretentiousvalour of the Boer, the searching musketry. Everyone predicted aprolonged struggle. 

'All these colonials tell you, ' said an officer severely wounded atElandslaagte, 'that the Boers only want one good thrashing to satisfythem. Don't you believe it. They mean going through with this to theend. What about our Government?'

And the answer that all were united at home, and that Boer constancywould be met with equal perseverance and greater resources, lighted thepain-drawn features with a hopeful smile. 

'Well, I never felt quite safe with those politicians. I can't get aboutfor two months' (he was shot through the thigh), 'but I hope to be in atthe death. It's our blood against theirs. '

Pietermaritzburg is sixty miles from Durban, but as the railway zigzagsup and down hill and contorts itself into curves that would horrify thedomestic engineer, the journey occupies four hours. The town looks morelike Ootacamund than any place I have seen. To those who do not know thedelightful hill station of Southern India let me explain thatPietermaritzburg stands in a basin of smooth rolling downs, brokenfrequently by forests of fir and blue gum trees. It is a sleepy, dead-alive place. Even the fact that Colonel Knowle, the militaryengineer, was busily putting it into a state of defence, digging up itshills, piercing its walls, and encircling it with wire obstructions didnot break its apathy. The 'Times of Natal' struggled to rouseexcitement, and placarded its office with the latest telegrams from thefront, some of which had reached Pietermaritzburg _via_ London. But thecomposure of the civil population is a useful factor in war, and I wishit were within the power of my poor pen to bring home to the people ofEngland how excellently the colonists of Natal have deserved of theState. 

There are several points to be remembered in this connection. First, thecolonists have had many dealings with the Boers. They knew theirstrength, they feared their animosity. But they have never for onemoment lost sight of their obligations as a British colony. Theirloyalty has been splendid. From the very beginning they warned theImperial Government that their territories would be invaded. Throughoutthe course of the long negotiations they knew that if war should come, on them would fall the first fury of the storm. Nevertheless, theycourageously supported and acclaimed the action of the Ministry. Now atlast there is war. It means a good deal to all of us, but more than toany it comes home to the Natalian. He is invaded; his cattle have beenseized by the Boer; his towns are shelled or captured; the most powerfulforce on which he relies for protection is isolated in Ladysmith; hiscapital is being loopholed and entrenched; Newcastle has been abandoned, Colenso has fallen, Estcourt is threatened; the possibility that thewhole province will be overrun stares him in the face. From thebeginning he asked for protection. From the beginning he was promisedcomplete protection; but scarcely a word of complaint is heard. Thetownsfolk are calm and orderly, the Press dignified and sober. The mencapable of bearing arms have responded nobly. Boys of sixteen march withmen of fifty to war--to no light easy war. All the volunteers are in thefield bearing their full share of the fighting like men. Nor are theOutlanders backward in their own quarrel. The Imperial Light Infantry iseagerly filled. The Imperial Light Horse can find no more vacancies, not even for those who will serve without pay. 

I talked with a wounded Gordon Highlander--one of those who dashedacross the famous causeway of Dargai and breasted the still moreglorious slope of Elandslaagte. 

'We had the Imperial Horse with us, ' he said. 'They're the best I'veever seen. '

The casualty lists tell the same tale. To storm the hill the regimentdismounted less than two hundred men. They reached the top unchecked, their Colonel, their Adjutant, Lieutenant Barnes, seven other officers, and upwards of sixty men killed or wounded--nearly 30 per cent. Many ofthis corps came from Johannesburg. After this who will dare callOutlanders cowards? Not that it will ever matter again. 

Viewed in quieter days, the patient, trustful attitude of this colony ofNatal will impress the historian. The devotion of its people to theirSovereign and to their motherland should endear them to all goodEnglishmen, and win them general respect and sympathy; and fullindemnity to all individual colonists who have suffered loss must standas an Imperial debt of honour. 

CHAPTER V

A CRUISE IN THE ARMOURED TRAIN

Estcourt: November 9, 1899. 

How many more letters shall I write you from an unsatisfactory address?Sir George White's Headquarters are scarcely forty miles away, butbetween them and Estcourt stretches the hostile army. Whether it may bepossible or wise to try to pass the lines of investment is a questionwhich I cannot yet decide; and meanwhile I wait here at the nearest postcollecting such information as dribbles through native channels, andhoping that early events may clear the road. To wait is often wearywork--but even at this exciting time I come to a standstill at lengthwith a distinct feeling of relief. The last month has been passed incontinual travel. The fading, confused faces at Waterloo as the trainswept along the platform; the cheering crowds at Southampton; therolling decks of the 'Dunottar Castle;' the suspense, the excitement offirst news; a brief day's scurry at Cape Town; the journey to EastLondon by the last train to pass along the frontier; the tumultuousvoyage in the 'Umzimvubu' amid so great a gale that but for the RoyalMail the skipper would have put back to port; on without a check toPietermaritzburg, and thence, since the need seemed urgent and thetraffic slow, by special train here--all moving, restless pictures--andhere at last--a pause. 

Let us review the situation. On Wednesday last, on November 1, the Boerlines of investment drew round Ladysmith. On Thursday the last trainpassed down the railway under the fire of artillery. That night the linewas cut about four miles north of Colenso. Telegraphic communicationalso ceased. On Friday Colenso was itself attacked. A heavy gun cameinto action from the hills which dominate the town, and the slendergarrison of infantry volunteers and naval brigade evacuated in a hurry, and, covered to some extent by the armoured train, fell back onEstcourt. 

Estcourt is a South African town--that is to say, it is a collection ofabout three hundred detached stone or corrugated iron houses, nearly allone-storied, arranged along two broad streets--for space isplentiful--or straggling away towards the country. The little place liesin a cup of the hills, which rise in green undulations on all sides. Forthis reason it will be a very difficult place to defend if the invadersshould come upon it. It is, besides, of mean and insignificant aspect;but, like all these towns in Natal, it is the centre of a largeagricultural district, at once the market and the storehouse of dozensof prosperous farms scattered about the country, and consequently itpossesses more importance than the passing stranger would imagine. Indeed, it was a surprise to find on entering the shops how great avariety and quantity of goods these unpretentious shanties contained. 

Estcourt now calls itself 'The Front. ' There is another front fortymiles away, but that is ringed about by the enemy, and since we live inexpectation of attack, with no one but the Boers beyond the outpostline, Estcourt considers that its claim is just, Colonel Wolfe Murray, the officer who commands the lines of communication of the Natal FieldForce, hastened up as soon as the news of the attack on Colenso wasreceived to make preparation to check the enemy's advance. 

The force at his disposal is not, however, large--two Britishbattalions--the Dublin Fusiliers, who fought at Glencoe, and werehurried out of Ladysmith to strengthen the communications when it becameevident that a blockade impended, and the Border Regiment from Malta, asquadron of the Imperial Light Horse, 300 Natal volunteers with 25cyclists, and a volunteer battery of nine-pounder guns--perhaps 2, 000men in all. With so few it would be quite impossible to hold the longline of hills necessary for the protection of the town, but a positionhas been selected and fortified, where the troops can maintainthemselves--at any rate for several days. But the confidence of themilitary authorities in the strength of Estcourt may be gauged by thefrantic efforts they are making to strengthen Pietermaritzburg, seventy-six miles, and even Durban, one hundred and thirty miles furtherback, by earthworks and naval guns. 'The Boers invade Natal!' exclaimsMr. Labouchere in the number of 'Truth' current out here. 'As likelythat the Chinese army should invade London. ' But he is not the onlyfalse prophet. 

It seems, however, certain that a considerable force will be moved heresoon to restore the situation and to relieve Ladysmith. Meanwhile wewait, not without anxiety or impatience. The Imperial Horse, a fewmounted infantry, the volunteer cyclists, and the armoured train, patroldaily towards Colenso and the north, always expecting to see theapproaching Boer commandos. Yesterday I travelled with the armouredtrain. This armoured train is a very puny specimen, having neither gunnor Maxims, with no roof to its trucks and no shutters to itsloopholes, and being in every way inferior to the powerful machines Isaw working along the southern frontier. Nevertheless it is a usefulmeans of reconnaissance, nor is a journey in it devoid of interest. Anarmoured train! The very name sounds strange; a locomotive disguised asa knight-errant; the agent of civilisation in the habiliments ofchivalry. Mr. Morley attired as Sir Lancelot would seem scarcely moreincongruous. The possibilities of attack added to the keenness of theexperience. We started at one o'clock. A company of the Dublin Fusiliersformed the garrison. Half were in the car in front of the engine, halfin that behind. Three empty trucks, with a platelaying gang and sparerails to mend the line, followed. The country between Estcourt andColenso is open, undulating, and grassy. The stations, which occur everyfour or five miles, are hamlets consisting of half a dozen corrugatediron houses, and perhaps a score of blue gum trees. These little specksof habitation are almost the only marked feature of the landscape, which on all sides spreads in pleasant but monotonous slopes of green. The train maintained a good speed; and, though it stopped repeatedly toquestion Kaffirs or country folk, and to communicate with the cyclistsand other patrols who were scouring the country on the flanks, reachedChieveley, five miles from Colenso, by about three o'clock; and fromhere the Ladysmith balloon, a brown speck floating above and beyond thedistant hills, was plainly visible. 

Beyond Chieveley it was necessary to observe more caution. The speed wasreduced--the engine walked warily. The railway officials scanned thetrack, and often before a culvert or bridge was traversed we disembarkedand examined it from the ground. At other times long halts were madewhile the officers swept the horizon and the distant hills with fieldglasses and telescopes. But the country was clear and the lineundamaged, and we continued our slow advance. Presently Colenso cameinto view--a hundred tin-pot houses under the high hills to thenorthward. We inspected it deliberately. On a mound beyond the villagerose the outline of the sandbag fort constructed by the Naval Brigade. The flagstaff, without the flag, still stood up boldly. But, so far aswe could tell, the whole place was deserted. 

There followed a discussion. Perhaps the Boers were lying in wait forthe armoured train; perhaps they had trained a gun on some telegraphpost, and would fire the moment the engine passed it; or perhaps, again, they were even now breaking the line behind us. Some Kaffirs approachedrespectfully, saluting. A Natal Volunteer--one of the cyclists--cameforward to interrogate. He was an intelligent little man, with aMartini-Metford rifle, a large pair of field glasses, a dainty pair ofgrey skin cycling shoes, and a slouch hat. He questioned the natives, and reported their answers. The Kaffirs said that the Dutchmen wereassuredly in the neighbourhood. They had been seen only that morning. 'How many?' The reply was vague--twelve, or seventeen, or one thousand;also they had a gun--or five guns--mounted in the old fort, or on theplatform of the station, or on the hill behind the town. At daylightthey had shelled Colenso. 'But why, ' we asked, 'should they shellColenso?' Evidently to make sure of the range of some telegraph post. 'It only takes one shell to do the trick with the engine, ' said thecaptain who commanded. 'Got to hit us first, though, ' he added. 'Well, let's get a little bit nearer. '

The electric bell rang three times, and we crept forward--halted--lookedaround, forward again--halt again--another look round; and so, yard byyard, we approached Colenso. Half a mile away we stopped finally. Theofficer, taking a sergeant with him, went on towards the village onfoot. I followed. We soon reached the trenches that had been made by theBritish troops before they evacuated the place. 'Awful rot giving thisplace up, ' said the officer. 'These lines took us a week to dig. ' Fromhere Colenso lay exposed about two hundred yards away--a silent, desolate village. The streets were littered with the belongings of theinhabitants. Two or three houses had been burned. A dead horse lay inthe road, his four legs sticking stiffly up in the air, his bellyswollen. The whole place had evidently been ransacked and plundered bythe Boers and the Kaffirs. A few natives loitered near the far end ofthe street, and one, alarmed at the aspect of the train, waved a whiterag on a stick steadily to and fro. But no Dutchmen were to be seen. Wemade our way back to the railway line and struck it at the spot where itwas cut. Two lengths of rails had been lifted up, and, with the sleepersattached to them, flung over the embankment. The broken telegraph wirestrailed untidily on the ground. Several of the posts were twisted. Butthe bridge across the Tugela was uninjured, and the damage to the lineswas such as could be easily repaired. The Boers realise the advantage ofthe railway. At this moment, with their trains all labelled 'To Durban, 'they are drawing supplies along it from Pretoria to within six miles ofLadysmith. They had resolved to use it in their further advance, andtheir confidence in the ultimate issue is shown by the care with whichthey avoid seriously damaging the permanent way. We had learned all thatthere was to learn--where the line was broken, that the village wasdeserted, that the bridge was safe, and we made haste to rejoin thetrain. Then the engine was reversed, and we withdrew out of range of thehills beyond Colenso at full speed--and some said that the Boers did notfire because they hoped to draw us nearer, and others that there were noBoers within ten miles. 

On the way back I talked with the volunteer. He was friendly andcommunicative. 'Durban Light Infantry, ' he said; 'that's my corps. I'm abuilder myself by trade--nine men under me. But I had to send them allaway when I was called out. I don't know how I'm going on when I getback after it's over. Oh, I'm glad to come. I wish I was in Ladysmith. You see these Dutchmen have come quite far enough into our country. TheImperial Government promised us protection. You've seen what protectionColenso got; Dundee and Newcastle, just the same; I don't doubt they'vetried their best, and I don't blame them; but we want help here badly. Idon't hold with a man crying out for help unless he makes a starthimself, so I came out. I'm a cyclist. I've got eight medals at home forcycling. '

'How will you like a new one--with the Queen's head on it?'

His eye brightened. 

'Ah, ' he said, 'I should treasure that more than all the othereight--even more than the twenty-mile championship one. '

So we rattled back to Estcourt through the twilight; and the long car, crowded with brown-clad soldiers who sprawled smoking on the floor orlounged against the sides, the rows of loopholes along the iron walls, the black smoke of the engine bulging overhead, the sense of headlongmotion, and the atmosphere of war made the volunteer seem perhaps morethan he was; and I thought him a true and valiant man, who had comeforward in time of trouble quietly and soberly to bear his part inwarfare, and who was ready, if necessary, to surrender his humble lifein honourably sustaining the quarrel of the State. Nor do I care tocorrect the impression now. 

CHAPTER VI

DISTANT GUNS

Estcourt: November 10, 1899. 

When I awoke yesterday morning there was a strange tremor in the air. Agang of platelayers and navvies were making a new siding by the station, and sounds of hammering also came from the engine shed. But this tremormade itself felt above these and all the other noises of a waking camp, a silent thudding, a vibration which scarcely seemed to constitute whatis called sound, yet which left an intense impression on the ear. I wentoutside the tent to listen. Morning had just broken, and the air wasstill and clear. What little wind there was came from the northwards, from the direction of Ladysmith, and I knew that it carried to Estcourtthe sound of distant cannon. When once the sounds had been localised itwas possible to examine them more carefully. There were two kinds ofreports: one almost a boom, the explosion evidently of some very heavypiece of ordnance; the other only a penetrating whisper, that ofordinary field guns. A heavy cannonade was proceeding. The smallerpieces fired at brief intervals, sometimes three or four shots followedin quick succession. Every few minutes the heavier gun or gunsintervened. What was happening? We could only try to guess, nor do weyet know whether our guesses were right. It seems to me, however, thatSir George White must have made an attack at dawn on some persecutingBoer battery, and so brought on a general action. 

Later in the day we rode out to find some nearer listening point. Thewhole force was making a reconnaissance towards Colenso, partly forreasons of security, partly to exercise the horses and men. Gallopingover the beautiful grassy hills to the north of the town, I soon reacheda spot whence the column could be seen. First of all came a cyclist--aNatal volunteer pedalling leisurely along with his rifle slung acrosshis back--then two more, then about twenty. Next, after an interval of aquarter of a mile, rode the cavalry--the squadron of the Imperial LightHorse, sixty Natal Carabineers, a company of mounted infantry, and aboutforty of the Natal mounted police. That is the total cavalry force inNatal, all the rest is bottled up in Ladysmith, and scarcely threehundred horsemen are available for the defence of the colony against ahostile army entirely composed of mounted men. Small were their numbers, but the quality was good. The Imperial Light Horse have shown theircourage, and have only to display their discipline to equal advantage tobe considered first-class soldiers. The Natal Carabineers are excellentvolunteer cavalry: the police an alert and reliable troop. After thehorse the foot: the Dublin Fusiliers wound up the hill like a long brownsnake. This is a fine regiment, which distinguished itself at Glencoe, and have since impressed all who have been brought in contact with it. The cheery faces of the Irishmen wore a proud and confident expression. They had seen war. The other battalion--the Border Regiment--had yettheir spurs to win. The volunteer battery was sandwiched between the twoBritish battalions, and the rear of the column was brought up by theDurban volunteers. The force, when it had thus passed in review, lookedpainfully small, and this impression was aggravated by the knowledge ofall that depended on it. 

A high, flat-topped hill to the north-west promised a wide field ofvision and a nearer listening point for the Ladysmith cannonade, whichstill throbbed and thudded dully. With my two companions I rode towardsit, and after an hour's climb reached the summit. The land lay spreadbefore us like a map. Estcourt, indeed, was hidden by its engulfinghills, but Colenso was plainly visible, and the tin roofs of the housesshowed in squares and oblongs of pale blue against the brown backgroundof the mountain. Far away to the east the dark serrated range of theDrakensberg rose in a mighty wall. But it was not on these featuresthat we turned our glasses. To the right of Colenso the hills were lowerand more broken, and the country behind, though misty and indistinct, was exposed to view. First there was a region of low rocky hills risingin strange confusion and falling away on the further side to a hollow. Above this extensive depression clouds of smoke from grass and otherfires hung and drifted, like steam over a cauldron. At thebottom--invisible in spite of our great elevation--stood the town andcamp of Ladysmith. Westward rose the long, black, hog-backed outline ofBulwana Hill, and while we watched intently the ghost of a flash stabbedits side and a white patch sprang into existence, spread thinner, andvanished away. 'Long Tom' was at his business. 

The owner of the nearest farm joined us while we were thus engaged--atall, red-bearded man of grave and intelligent mien. 'They've had heavyfighting this morning, ' he said. 'Not since Monday week' (the BlackMonday of the war) 'has there been such firing. But they are nearlyfinished now for the day. ' Absorbed by the distant drama, all the morethrilling since its meaning was doubtful and mysterious, we had shownourselves against the sky-line, and our conversation was now suddenlyinterrupted. Over the crest of the hill to the rear, two horsementrotted swiftly into view. A hundred yards away to the left three orfour more were dismounting among the rocks. Three other figures appearedon the other side. We were surrounded--but by the Natal Carabineers. 'Got you, I think, ' said the sergeant, who now arrived. 'Will you kindlytell us all about who you are?' We introduced ourselves as PresidentKruger and General Joubert, and presented the farmer as Mr. Schreiner, who had come to a secret conference, and having produced our passes, satisfied the patrol that we were not eligible for capture. The sergeantlooked disappointed. 'It took us half an hour to stalk you, but if youhad only been Dutchmen we'd have had you fixed up properly. ' Indeed, thewhole manoeuvre had been neatly and cleverly executed, and showed thesmartness and efficiency of these irregular forces in all matters ofscouting and reconnaissance. The patrol was then appeased by beingphotographed 'for the London papers, ' and we hastened to accept thefarmer's invitation to lunch. 'Only plain fare, ' said he, 'but perhapsyou are used to roughing it. '

The farm stood in a sheltered angle of the hill at no great distancefrom its summit. It was a good-sized house, with stone walls and acorrugated iron roof. A few sheds and outhouses surrounded it, four orfive blue gums afforded a little shade from the sun and a little reliefto the grassy smoothness of the landscape. Two women met us at the door, one the wife, the other, I think, the sister of our host. Neither wasyoung, but their smiling faces showed the invigorating effects of thisdelicious air. 'These are anxious times, ' said the older; 'we hear thecannonading every morning at breakfast. What will come of it all?' Overa most excellent luncheon we discussed many things with these kindpeople, and spoke of how the nation was this time resolved to make anend of the long quarrel with the Boers, so that there should be no moreuncertainty and alarm among loyal subjects of the Queen. 'We have alwaysknown, ' said the farmer, 'that it must end in war, and I cannot say I amsorry it has come at last. But it falls heavily on us. I am the only manfor twenty miles who has not left his farm. Of course we are defencelesshere. Any day the Dutchmen may come. They wouldn't kill us, but theywould burn or plunder everything, and it's all I've got in the world. Fifteen years have I worked at this place, and I said to myself we mayas well stay and face it out, whatever happens. ' Indeed, it was ananxious time for such a man. He had bought the ground, built the house, reclaimed waste tracts, enriched the land with corn and cattle, sunk allhis capital in the enterprise, and backed it with the best energies ofhis life. Now everything might be wrecked in an hour by a wandering Boerpatrol. And this was happening to a loyal and law-abiding Britishsubject more than a hundred miles within the frontiers of her Majesty'sdominions! Now I felt the bitter need for soldiers--thousands ofsoldiers--so that such a man as this might be assured. With what prideand joy could one have said: 'Work on, the fruits of your industry aresafe. Under the strong arm of the Imperial Government your home shall besecure, and if perchance you suffer in the disputes of the Empire thepublic wealth shall restore your private losses. ' But when I recalledthe scanty force which alone kept the field, and stood between the enemyand the rest of Natal, I knew the first would be an empty boast, and, remembering what had happened on other occasions, I thought the secondmight prove a barren promise. 

We started on our long ride home, for the afternoon was wearing away andpicket lines are dangerous at dusk. The military situation is withoutdoubt at this moment most grave and critical. We have been at war threeweeks. The army that was to have defended Natal, and was indeed expectedto repulse the invaders with terrible loss, is blockaded and bombardedin its fortified camp. At nearly every point along the circle of thefrontiers the Boers have advanced and the British retreated. Wherever wehave stood we have been surrounded. The losses in the fighting have notbeen unequal--nor, considering the numbers engaged and the weaponsemployed, have they been very severe. But the Boers hold more than 1, 200unwounded British prisoners, a number that bears a disgracefulproportion to the casualty lists, and a very unsatisfactory relation tothe number of Dutchmen that we have taken. All this is mainly the resultof being unready. That we are unready is largely due to those in Englandwho have endeavoured by every means in their power to hamper andobstruct the Government, who have scoffed at the possibility of theBoers becoming the aggressors, and who have represented every precautionfor the defence of the colonies as a deliberate provocation to theTransvaal State. It is also due to an extraordinary under-estimation ofthe strength of the Boers. These military republics have been for tenyears cherishing vast ambitions, and for five years, enriched by thegold mines, they have been arming and preparing for the struggle. Theyhave neglected nothing, and it is a very remarkable fact that theseignorant peasant communities have had the wisdom and the enterprise topossess themselves of good advisers, and to utilise the best expertopinion in all matters of armament and war. 

Their artillery is inferior in numbers, but in nothing else, to ours. Yesterday I visited Colenso in the armoured train. In one of thedeserted British-built redoubts I found two boxes of shrapnel shells andcharges. The Boers had not troubled to touch them. Their guns were of alater pattern, and fired powder and shell made up together like a greatrifle cartridge. The combination, made for the first time in the historyof war, of heavy artillery and swarms of mounted infantry is formidableand effective. The enduring courage and confident spirit of the enemymust also excite surprise. In short, we have grossly underrated theirfighting powers. Most people in England--I, among them--thought thatthe Boer ultimatum was an act of despair, that the Dutch would make onefight for their honour, and, once defeated, would accept the inevitable. All I have heard and whatever I have seen out here contradict thesefalse ideas. Anger, hatred, and the consciousness of military powerimpelled, the Boers to war. They would rather have fought at their owntime--a year or two later--when their preparations were still furtheradvanced, and when the British were, perhaps, involved in otherquarters. But, after all, the moment was ripe. Nearly everything wasready, and the whole people sprang to arms with alacrity, firmlybelieving that they would drive the British into the sea. To thatopinion they still adhere. I do not myself share it; but it cannot bedenied that it seems less absurd to-day than it did before a shot hadbeen fired. 

To return to Estcourt. Here we are passing through a most dangerousperiod. The garrison is utterly insufficient to resist the Boers; theposition wholly indefensible. Indeed, we exist here on sufferance. Ifthe enemy attack, the troops must fall back on Pietermaritzburg, if forno other reason because they are the only force available for thedefence of the strong lines now being formed around the chief town. There are so few cavalry outside Ladysmith that the Boers could raid inall directions. All this will have been changed long before this letterreaches you, or I should not send it, but as I write the situation issaved only by what seems to me the over-confidence of the enemy. Theyare concentrating all their efforts on Ladysmith, and evidently hope tocompel its surrender. It may, however, be said with absolute certaintythat the place can hold out for a month at the least. How, then, couldthe Boers obtain the necessary time to reduce it? The reinforcements areon the seas. The railway works regularly with the coast. Even nowsidings are being constructed and troop trains prepared. It is with allthis that they should interfere, and they are perfectly competent to doso. They could compel us to retreat on Pietermaritzburg, they couldtear up the railway, they could blow up the bridges; and by all thesemeans they could delay the arrival of a relieving army, and so have alonger time to worry Ladysmith, and a better chance of making it asecond Saratoga. Since Saturday last that has been our fear. Nearly aweek has passed and nothing has happened. The chance of the Boers isfleeting; the transports approach the land; scarcely forty-eight hoursremain. Yet, as I write, they have done nothing. Why? To some extent Ithink they have been influenced by the fear of the Tugela River risingbehind their raiding parties, and cutting their line of retreat; to someextent by the serene and confident way in which General Wolfe Murray, placed in a most trying position, has handled his force and maintainedby frequent reconnaissance and a determined attitude the appearance ofactual strength; but when all has been said on these grounds, the factwill remain that the enemy have not destroyed the railway because theydo not fear the reinforcements that are coming, because they do notbelieve that many will come, and because they are sure that, howevermany may come, they will defeat them. To this end they preserve theline, and watch the bridges as carefully as we do. It is by the railwaythat they are to be supplied in their march through Natal to the sea. After what they have accomplished it would be foolish to laugh at any oftheir ambitions, however wicked and extravagant these may be; but itappears to most military critics at this moment that they have committeda serious strategic error, and have thrown away the chance they hadalmost won. How much that error will cost them will depend on theoperations of the relieving force, which I shall hope to chronicle asfully as possible in future letters. 

CHAPTER VII

THE FATE OF THE ARMOURED TRAIN

Pretoria: November 20, 1899. 

Now I perceive that I was foolish to choose in advance a definite titlefor these letters and to think that it could continue to be appropriatefor any length of time. In the strong stream of war the swimmer isswirled helplessly about hither and thither by the waves, and he can byno means tell where he will come to land, or, indeed, that he may not beoverwhelmed in the flood. A week ago I described to you a reconnoitringexpedition in the Estcourt armoured train, and I pointed out the manydefects in the construction and the great dangers in the employment ofthat forlorn military machine. So patent were these to all who concernedthemselves in the matter that the train was nicknamed in the camp'Wilson's death trap. '

On Tuesday, the 14th, the mounted infantry patrols reported that theBoers in small parties were approaching Estcourt from the directions ofWeenen and Colenso, and Colonel Long made a reconnaissance in force toascertain what strength lay behind the advanced scouts. Thereconnaissance, which was marked only by an exchange of shots betweenthe patrols, revealed little, but it was generally believed that aconsiderable portion of the army investing Ladysmith was moving, or wasabout to move, southwards to attack Estcourt, and endeavour to strikePietermaritzburg. The movement that we had awaited for ten daysimpended. Accordingly certain military preparations, which I need notnow specify, were made to guard against all contingencies, and atdaylight on Wednesday morning another spray of patrols was flung outtowards the north and north-west, and the Estcourt armoured train wasordered to reconnoitre towards Chieveley. The train was composed asfollows: an ordinary truck, in which was a 7-pounder muzzle-loading gun, served by four sailors from the 'Tartar;' an armoured car fitted withloopholes and held by three sections of a company of the DublinFusiliers; the engine and tender, two more armoured cars containing thefourth section of the Fusilier company, one company of the Durban LightInfantry (volunteers), and a small civilian breakdown gang; lastly, another ordinary truck with the tools and materials for repairing theroad; in all five wagons, the locomotive, one small gun, and 120 men. Captain Haldane, D. S. O. , whom I had formerly known on Sir WilliamLockhart's staff in the Tirah Expedition, and who was lately recoveredfrom his wound at Elandslaagte, commanded. 

We started at half-past five and, observing all the usual precautions, reached Frere Station in about an hour. Here a small patrol of the Natalpolice reported that there were no enemy within the next few miles, andthat all seemed quiet in the neighbourhood. It was the silence beforethe storm. Captain Haldane decided to push on cautiously as far asChieveley, near which place an extensive view of the country could beobtained. Not a sign of the Boers could be seen. The rolling grassycountry looked as peaceful and deserted as on former occasions, and welittle thought that behind the green undulations scarcely three milesaway the leading commandos of a powerful force were riding swiftlyforward on their invading path. 

All was clear as far as Chieveley, but as the train reached the stationI saw about a hundred Boer horsemen cantering southwards about a milefrom the railway. Beyond Chieveley a long hill was lined with a row ofblack spots, showing that our further advance would be disputed. Thetelegraphist who accompanied the train wired back to Estcourt reportingour safe arrival, and that parties of Boers were to be seen at no greatdistance, and Colonel Long replied by ordering the train to return toFrere and remain there in observation during the day, watching its saferetreat at nightfall. We proceeded to obey, and were about a mile andthree-quarters from Frere when on rounding a corner we saw that a hillwhich commanded the line at a distance of 600 yards was occupied by theenemy. So after all there would be a fight, for we could not pass thispoint without coming under fire. The four sailors loaded their gun--anantiquated toy--the soldiers charged their magazines, and the train, which was now in the reverse of the order in which it had started moved, slowly towards the hill. 

The moment approached: but no one was much concerned, for the cars wereproof against rifle fire, and this ridge could at the worst be occupiedonly by some daring patrol of perhaps a score of men. 'Besides, ' we saidto ourselves, 'they little think we have a gun on board. That will be anice surprise. '

The Boers held their fire until the train reached that part of the tracknearest to their position. Standing on a box in the rear armoured truckI had an excellent view-through my glasses. The long brown rattlingserpent with the rifles bristling from its spotted sides crawled closerto the rocky hillock on which the scattered black figures of the enemyshowed clearly. Suddenly three wheeled things appeared on the crest, andwithin a second a bright flash of light--like a heliograph, but muchyellower--opened and shut ten or twelve times. Then two much largerflashes; no smoke nor yet any sound, and a bustle and stir among thelittle figures. So much for the hill. Immediately over the rear truck ofthe train a huge white ball of smoke sprang into being and tore out intoa cone like a comet. Then came, the explosions of the near guns and thenearer shell. The iron sides of the truck tanged with a patter ofbullets. There was a crash from the front of the train and half a dozensharp reports. The Boers had opened fire on us at 600 yards with twolarge field guns, a Maxim firing small shells in a stream, and fromriflemen lying on the ridge. I got down from my box into the cover ofthe armoured sides of the car without forming any clear thought. Equallyinvoluntarily, it seems that the driver put on full steam, as the enemyhad intended. The train leapt forward, ran the gauntlet of the guns, which now filled the air with explosions, swung round the curve of thehill, ran down a steep gradient, and dashed into a huge stone whichawaited it on the line at a convenient spot. 

To those who were in the rear truck there was only a tremendous shock, atremendous crash, and a sudden full stop. What happened to the trucks infront of the engine is more interesting. The first, which contained thematerials and tools of the breakdown gang and the guard who was watchingthe line, was flung into the air and fell bottom upwards on theembankment. (I do not know what befell the guard, but it seems probablethat he was killed. ) The next, an armoured car crowded with the DurbanLight Infantry, was carried on twenty yards and thrown over on its side, scattering its occupants in a shower on the ground. The third wedgeditself across the track, half on and half off the rails. The rest of thetrain kept to the metals. 

We were not long left in the comparative peace and safety of a railwayaccident. The Boer guns, swiftly changing their position, re-openedfrom a distance of 1, 300 yards before anyone had got out of the stage ofexclamations. The tapping rifle fire spread along the hillside, until itencircled the wreckage on three sides, and a third field gun came intoaction from some high ground on the opposite side of the line. 

To all of this our own poor little gun endeavoured to reply, and thesailors, though exposed in an open truck, succeeded in letting off threerounds before the barrel was struck by a shell, and the trunnions, beingsmashed, fell altogether out of the carriage. 

The armoured truck gave some protection from the bullets, but since anydirect shell must pierce it like paper and kill everyone, it seemedalmost safer outside, and, wishing to see the extent and nature of thedamage, I clambered over the iron shield, and, dropping to the ground, ran along the line to the front of the train. As I passed the engineanother shrapnel shell burst immediately, as it seemed, overhead, hurling its contents with a rasping rush through the air. The driver atonce sprang out of the cab and ran to the shelter of the overturnedtrucks. His face was cut open by a splinter, and he complained in bitterfutile indignation. He was a civilian. What did they think he was paidfor? To be killed by bombshells? Not he. He would not stay anotherminute. It looked as if his excitement and misery--he was dazed by theblow on his head--would prevent him from working the engine further, andas only he understood the machinery all chances of escape seemed to becut off. Yet when I told this man that if he continued to stay at hispost he would be mentioned for distinguished gallantry in action, hepulled himself together, wiped the blood off his face, climbed back intothe cab of his engine, and thereafter during the one-sided combat didhis duty bravely and faithfully--so strong is the desire for honour andrepute in the human breast. 

I reached the overturned portion of the train uninjured. The volunteerswho, though severely shaken, were mostly unhurt, were lying down undersuch cover as the damaged cars and the gutters of the railway lineafforded. It was a very grievous sight to see these citizen soldiers, most of whom were the fathers of families, in such a perilous position. They bore themselves well, though greatly troubled, and their major, whose name I have not learned, directed their fire on the enemy; butsince these, lying behind the crests of the surrounding hills, werealmost invisible I did not expect that it would be very effective. 

Having seen this much, I ran along the train to the rear armoured truckand told Captain Haldane that in my opinion the line might be cleared. We then agreed that he with musketry should keep the enemy's artilleryfrom destroying us, and that I should try to throw the wreckage off theline, so that the engine and the two cars which still remained on therails might escape. 

I am convinced that this arrangement gave us the best possible chance ofsafety, though at the time it was made the position appeared quitehopeless. 

Accordingly Haldane and his Fusiliers began to fire through theirloopholes at the Boer artillery, and, as the enemy afterwards admitted, actually disturbed their aim considerably. During the time that thesemen were firing from the truck four shells passed through the armour, but luckily not one exploded until it had passed out on the furtherside. Many shells also struck and burst on the outside of their shields, and these knocked all the soldiers on their backs with the concussion. Nevertheless a well-directed fire was maintained without cessation. 

The task of clearing the line would not, perhaps, in ordinarycircumstances have been a very difficult one. But the breakdown gang andtheir tools were scattered to the winds, and several had fled along thetrack or across the fields. Moreover, the enemy's artillery fire waspitiless, continuous, and distracting. The affair had, however, to becarried through. 

The first thing to be done was to detach the truck half off the railsfrom the one completely so. To do this the engine had to be moved toslacken the strain on the twisted couplings. When these had beenreleased, the next step was to drag the partly derailed truck backwardsalong the line until it was clear of the other wreckage, and then tothrow it bodily off the rails. This may seem very simple, but the deadweight of the iron truck half on the sleepers was enormous, and theengine wheels skidded vainly several times before any hauling power wasobtained. At last the truck was drawn sufficiently far back, and Icalled for volunteers to overturn it from the side while the enginepushed it from the end. It was very evident that these men would beexposed to considerable danger. Twenty were called for, and there was animmediate response. But only nine, including the major of volunteers andfour or five of the Dublin Fusiliers, actually stepped out into theopen. The attempt was nevertheless successful. The truck heeled furtherover under their pushing, and, the engine giving a shove at the rightmoment, it fell off the line and the track was clear. Safety and successappeared in sight together, but disappointment overtook them. 

The engine was about six inches wider than the tender, and the corner ofits footplate would not pass the corner of the newly overturned truck. It did not seem safe to push very hard, lest the engine should itself bederailed. So time after time the engine moved back a yard or two andshoved forward at the obstruction, and each time moved it a little. Butsoon it was evident that complications had set in. The newly derailedtruck became jammed with that originally off the line, and the more theengine pushed the greater became the block. Volunteers were again calledon to assist, but though seven men, two of whom, I think, were wounded, did their best, the attempt was a failure. 

Perseverance, however, is a virtue. If the trucks only jammed thetighter for the forward pushing they might be loosened by pullingbackwards. Now, however, a new difficulty arose. The coupling chains ofthe engine would not reach by five or six inches those of the overturnedtruck. Search was made for a spare link. By a solitary gleam of goodluck one was found. The engine hauled at the wreckage, and before thechains parted pulled it about a yard backwards. Now, certainly, the linewas clear at last. But again the corner of the footplate jammed with thecorner of the truck, and again we came to a jarring halt. 

I have had, in the last four years, the advantage, if it be anadvantage, of many strange and varied experiences, from which thestudent of realities might draw profit and instruction. But nothing wasso thrilling as this: to wait and struggle among these clanging, rendingiron boxes, with the repeated explosions of the shells and theartillery, the noise of the projectiles striking the cars, the hiss asthey passed in the air, the grunting and puffing of the engine--poor, tortured thing, hammered by at least a dozen shells, any one of which, by penetrating the boiler, might have made an end of all--theexpectation of destruction as a matter of course, the realization ofpowerlessness, and the alternations of hope and despair--all this forseventy minutes by the clock with only four inches of twisted iron workto make the difference between danger, captivity, and shame on the onehand--safety, freedom, and triumph on the other. 

Nothing remained but to continue pounding at the obstructing corner inthe hopes that the iron work would gradually be twisted and torn, andthus give free passage. As we pounded so did the enemy. I adjured thedriver to be patient and to push gently, for it did not seem right toimperil the slender chance of escape by running the risk of throwing theengine off the line. But after a dozen pushes had been given withapparently little result a shell struck the front of the engine, settingfire to the woodwork, and he thereupon turned on more steam, and withconsiderable momentum we struck the obstacle once more. There was agrinding crash; the engine staggered, checked, shore forward again, until with a clanging, tearing sound it broke past the point ofinterception, and nothing but the smooth line lay between us and home. 

Brilliant success now seemed won, for I thought that the rear and guntrucks were following the locomotive, and that all might squeeze intothem, and so make an honourable escape. But the longed-for cup wasdashed aside. Looking backward, I saw that the couplings had parted orhad been severed by a shell, and that the trucks still lay on the wrongside of the obstruction, separated by it from the engine. No one daredto risk imprisoning the engine again by making it go back for thetrucks, so an attempt was made to drag the trucks up to the engine. Owing chiefly to the fire of the enemy this failed completely, andCaptain Haldane determined to be content with saving the locomotive. Heaccordingly permitted the driver to retire along the line slowly, sothat the infantry might get as much shelter from the ironwork of theengine as possible, and the further idea was to get into some housesnear the station, about 800 yards away, and there hold out while theengine went for assistance. 

As many wounded as possible were piled on to the engine, standing inthe cab, lying on the tender, or clinging to the cowcatcher. And allthis time the shells fell into the wet earth throwing up white clouds, burst with terrifying detonations overhead, or actually struck theengine and the iron wreckage. Besides the three field-guns, which provedto be 15-pounders, the shell-firing Maxim continued its work, and itslittle shells, discharged with an ugly thud, thud, thud, exploded withstartling bangs on all sides. One I remember struck the footplate of theengine scarcely a yard from my face, lit up into a bright yellow flash, and left me wondering why I was still alive. Another hit the coals inthe tender, hurling a black shower into the air. A third--this also Isaw--struck the arm of a private in the Dublin Fusiliers. The whole armwas smashed to a horrid pulp--bones, muscle, blood, and uniform allmixed together. At the bottom hung the hand, unhurt, but swelledinstantly to three times its ordinary size. The engine was soon crowdedand began to steam homewards--a mournful, sorely batteredlocomotive--with the woodwork of the firebox in flames and the waterspouting from its pierced tanks. The infantrymen straggled along besideit at the double. 

Seeing the engine escaping the Boers increased their fire, and thetroops, hitherto somewhat protected by the iron trucks, began to suffer. The major of volunteers fell, shot through the thigh. Here and there mendropped on the ground, several screamed--this is very rare in war--andcried for help. About a quarter of the force was very soon killed orwounded. The shells which pursued the retreating soldiers scattered themall along the track. Order and control vanished. The engine, increasingits pace, drew out from the thin crowd of fugitives and was soon insafety. The infantry continued to run down the line in the direction ofthe houses, and, in spite of their disorder, I honestly consider thatthey were capable of making a further resistance when some sheltershould be reached. But at this moment one of those miserableincidents--much too frequent in this war--occurred. 

A private soldier who was wounded, in direct disobedience of thepositive orders that no surrender was to be made, took it on himself towave a pocket-handkerchief. The Boers immediately ceased firing, andwith equal daring and humanity a dozen horsemen galloped from the hillsinto the scattered fugitives, scarcely any of whom had seen the whiteflag, and several of whom were still firing, and called loudly on themto surrender. Most of the soldiers, uncertain what to do, then halted, gave up their arms, and became prisoners of war. Those further away fromthe horsemen continued to run and were shot or hunted down in twos andthrees, and some made good their escape. 

For my part I found myself on the engine when the obstruction was atlast passed and remained there jammed in the cab next to the man withthe shattered arm. In this way I travelled some 500 yards, and passedthrough the fugitives, noticing particularly a young officer, LieutenantFrankland, who with a happy, confident smile on his face wasendeavouring to rally his men. When I approached the houses where we hadresolved to make a stand, I jumped on to the line, in order to collectthe men as they arrived, and hence the address from which this letter iswritten, for scarcely had the locomotive left me than I found myselfalone in a shallow cutting and none of our soldiers, who had allsurrendered on the way, to be seen. Then suddenly there appeared on theline at the end of the cutting two men not in uniform. 'Platelayers, ' Isaid to myself, and then, with a surge of realisation, 'Boers. ' My mindretains a momentary impression of these tall figures, full of animatedmovement, clad in dark flapping clothes, with slouch, storm-driven hatspoising on their rifles hardly a hundred yards away. I turned and ranbetween the rails of the track, and the only thought I achieved wasthis, 'Boer marksmanship. ' Two bullets passed, both within a foot, oneon either side. I flung myself against the banks of the cutting. Butthey gave no cover. Another glance at the figures; one was now kneelingto aim. Again I darted forward. Movement seemed the only chance. Againtwo soft kisses sucked in the air, but nothing struck me. This could notendure. I must get out of the cutting--that damnable corridor. Iscrambled up the bank. The earth sprang up beside me, and somethingtouched my hand, but outside the cutting was a tiny depression. Icrouched in this, struggling to get my wind. On the other side of therailway a horseman galloped up, shouting to me and waving his hand. Hewas scarcely forty yards off. With a rifle I could have killed himeasily. I knew nothing of white flags, and the bullets had made mesavage. I reached down for my Mauser pistol. 'This one at least, ' Isaid, and indeed it was a certainty; but alas! I had left the weapon inthe cab of the engine in order to be free to work at the wreckage. Whatthen? There was a wire fence between me and the horseman. Should Icontinue to fly? The idea of another shot at such a short range decidedme. Death stood before me, grim sullen Death without his light-heartedcompanion, Chance. So I held up my hand, and like Mr. Jorrocks's foxes, cried 'Capivy. ' Then I was herded with the other prisoners in amiserable group, and about the same time I noticed that my hand wasbleeding, and it began to pour with rain. 

Two days before I had written to an officer in high command at home, whose friendship I have the honour to enjoy: 'There has been a greatdeal too much surrendering in this war, and I hope people who do so willnot be encouraged. ' Fate had intervened, yet though her tone was full ofirony she seemed to say, as I think Ruskin once said, 'It matters verylittle whether your judgments of people are true or untrue, and verymuch whether they are kind or unkind, ' and repeating that I will make anend. 

CHAPTER VIII

PRISONERS OF WAR

Pretoria: November 24, 1899. 

The position of a prisoner of war is painful and humiliating. A mantries his best to kill another, and finding that he cannot succeed askshis enemy for mercy. The laws of war demand that this should beaccorded, but it is impossible not to feel a sense of humblingobligation to the captor from whose hand we take our lives. All militarypride, all independence of spirit must be put aside. These may becarried to the grave, but not into captivity. We must prepare ourselvesto submit, to obey, to endure. Certain things--sufficient food and waterand protection during good behaviour--the victor must supply or be asavage, but beyond these all else is favour. Favours must be acceptedfrom those with whom we have a long and bitter quarrel, from those whofeel fiercely that we seek to do them cruel injustice. The dog who hasbeen whipped must be thankful for the bone that is flung to him. 

When the prisoners captured after the destruction of the armoured trainhad been disarmed and collected in a group we found that there werefifty-six unwounded or slightly wounded men, besides the more seriouscases lying on the scene of the fight. The Boers crowded round, lookingcuriously at their prize, and we ate a little chocolate that by goodfortune--for we had had no breakfast--was in our pockets, and sat downon the muddy ground to think. The rain streamed down from a dark leadensky, and the coats of the horses steamed in the damp. 'Voorwärts, ' saida voice, and, forming in a miserable procession, two wretched officers, a bare-headed, tattered Correspondent, four sailors with straw hats and'H. M. S. Tartar' in gold letters on the ribbons--ill-timedjauntiness--some fifty soldiers and volunteers, and two or threerailwaymen, we started, surrounded by the active Boer horsemen. Yet, aswe climbed the low hills that surrounded the place of combat I lookedback and saw the engine steaming swiftly away beyond Frere Station. Something at least was saved from the ruin; information would be carriedto the troops at Estcourt, a good many of the troops and some of thewounded would escape, the locomotive was itself of value, and perhaps insaving all these things some little honour had been saved as well. 

'You need not walk fast, ' said a Boer in excellent English; 'take yourtime. ' Then another, seeing me hatless in the downpour, threw me asoldier's cap--one of the Irish Fusilier caps, taken, probably, nearLadysmith. So they were not cruel men, these enemy. That was a greatsurprise to me, for I had read much of the literature of this land oflies, and fully expected every hardship and indignity. At length wereached the guns which had played on us for so many minutes--twostrangely long barrels sitting very low on carriages of four wheels, like a break in which horses are exercised. They looked offensivelymodern, and I wondered why our Army had not got field artillery withfixed ammunition and 8, 000 yards range. Some officers and men of theStaats Artillerie, dressed in a drab uniform with blue facings, approached us. The commander, Adjutant Roos--as he introducedhimself--made a polite salute. He regretted the unfortunatecircumstances of our meeting; he complimented the officers on theirdefence--of course, it was hopeless from the first; he trusted his firehad not annoyed us; we should, he thought, understand the necessity forthem to continue; above all he wanted to know how the engine had beenable to get away, and how the line could have been cleared of wreckageunder his guns. In fact, he behaved as a good professional soldiershould, and his manner impressed me. 

We waited here near the guns for half an hour, and meanwhile the Boerssearched amid the wreckage for dead and wounded. A few of the woundedwere brought to where we were, and laid on the ground, but most of themwere placed in the shelter of one of the overturned trucks. As I write Ido not know with any certainty what the total losses were, but the Boerssay that they buried five dead, sent ten seriously wounded intoLadysmith, and kept three severely wounded in their field ambulances. Besides this, we are told that sixteen severely wounded escaped on theengine, and we have with the prisoners seven men, including myself, slightly wounded by splinters or injured in the derailment. If this beapproximately correct, it seems that the casualties in the hour and ahalf of fighting were between thirty-five and forty: not many, perhaps, considering the fire, but out of 120 enough at least. 

After a while we were ordered to march on, and looking over the crest ofthe hill a strange and impressive sight met the eye. Only about 300 menhad attacked the train, and I had thought that this was the enterpriseof a separate detachment, but as the view extended I saw that this wasonly a small part of a large, powerful force marching south, under thepersonal direction of General Joubert, to attack Estcourt. Behind everyhill, thinly veiled by the driving rain, masses of mounted men, arrangedin an orderly disorder, were halted, and from the rear long columns ofhorsemen rode steadily forward. Certainly I did not see less than 3, 000, and I did not see nearly all. Evidently an important operation was inprogress, and a collision either at Estcourt or Mooi River impended. This was the long expected advance: worse late than never. 

Our captors conducted us to a rough tent which had been set up in ahollow in one of the hills, and which we concluded was General Joubert'sheadquarters. Here we were formed in a line, and soon surrounded by abearded crowd of Boers cloaked in mackintosh. I explained that I was aSpecial Correspondent, and asked to see General Joubert. But in thethrong it was impossible to tell who were the superiors. My credentialswere taken from me by a man who said he was a Field Cornet, and whopromised that they should be laid before the General forthwith. Meanwhile we waited in the rain, and the Boers questioned us. Mycertificate as a correspondent bore a name better known than liked inthe Transvaal. Moreover, some of the private soldiers had been talking. 'You are the son of Lord Randolph Churchill?' said a Scottish Boer, abruptly. I did not deny the fact. Immediately there was much talking, and all crowded round me, looking and pointing, while I heard my namerepeated on every side. 'I am a newspaper correspondent, ' I said, 'andyou ought not to hold me prisoner. ' The Scottish Boer laughed. 'Oh, ' hesaid, 'we do not catch lords' sons every day. ' Whereat they allchuckled, and began to explain that I should be allowed to play footballat Pretoria. 

All this time I was expecting to be brought before General Joubert, fromwhom I had some hopes I should obtain assurances that my character as apress correspondent would be respected. But suddenly a mounted man rodeup and ordered the prisoners to march away towards Colenso. The escort, twenty horsemen, closed round us. I addressed their leader, anddemanded either that I should be taken before the General, or that mycredentials should be given back. But the so-called Field Cornet was notto be seen. The only response was, 'Voorwärts, ' and as it seemeduseless, undignified, and even dangerous to discuss the matter furtherwith these people, I turned and marched off with the rest. 

We tramped for six hours across sloppy fields and along tracks deep andslippery with mud, while the rain fell in a steady downpour and soakedeveryone to the skin. The Boer escort told us several times not to hurryand to go our own pace, and once they allowed us to halt for a fewmoments. But we had had neither food nor water, and it was with afeeling of utter weariness that I saw the tin roofs of Colenso rise inthe distance. We were put into a corrugated iron shed near the station, the floors of which were four inches deep with torn railway forms andaccount books. Here we flung ourselves down exhausted, and what with theshame, the disappointment, the excitement of the morning, the misery ofthe present, and physical weakness, it seemed that love of life wasgone, and I thought almost with envy of a soldier I had seen during thefight lying quite still on the embankment, secure in the calm philosophyof death from 'the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune. '

After the Boers had lit two fires they opened one of the doors of theshed and told us we might come forth and dry ourselves. A newlyslaughtered ox lay on the ground, and strips of his flesh were given tous. These we toasted on sticks over the fire and ate greedily, thoughsince the animal had been alive five minutes before one felt a kind ofcannibal. Other Boers not of our escort who were occupying Colenso cameto look at us. With two of these who were brothers, English by race, Afrikanders by birth, Boers by choice, I had some conversation. The war, they said, was going well. Of course, it was a great matter to face thepower and might of the British Empire, still they were resolved. Theywould drive the English out of South Africa for ever, or else fight tothe last man. I said:

'You attempt the impossible. Pretoria will be taken by the middle ofMarch. What hope have you of withstanding a hundred thousand soldiers?'

'If I thought, ' said the younger of the two brothers vehemently, 'thatthe Dutchmen would give in because Pretoria was taken, I would smash myrifle on those metals this very moment. We will fight for ever. ' I couldonly reply:

'Wait and see how you feel when the tide is running the other way. Itdoes not seem so easy to die when death is near. '

The man said, 'I will wait. '

Then we made friends. I told him that I hoped he would come safelythrough the war, and live to see a happier and a nobler South Africaunder the flag which had been good enough for his forefathers; and hetook off his blanket--which he was wearing with a hole in the middlelike a cloak--and gave it to me to sleep in. So we parted, andpresently, as night fell, the Field Cornet who had us in charge bade uscarry a little forage into the shed to sleep on, and then locked us upin the dark, soldiers, sailors, officers, and Correspondent--abroken-spirited jumble. 

I could not sleep. Vexation of spirit, a cold night, and wet clotheswithheld sweet oblivion. The rights and wrongs of the quarrel, thefortunes and chances of the war, forced themselves on the mind. What menthey were, these Boers! I thought of them as I had seen them in themorning riding forward through the rain--thousands of independentriflemen, thinking for themselves, possessed of beautiful weapons, ledwith skill, living as they rode without commissariat or transport orammunition column, moving like the wind, and supported by ironconstitutions and a stern, hard Old Testament God who should surelysmite the Amalekites hip and thigh. And then, above the rain storm thatbeat loudly on the corrugated iron, I heard the sound of a chaunt. TheBoers were singing their evening psalm, and the menacing notes--morefull of indignant war than love and mercy--struck a chill into my heart, so that I thought after all that the war was unjust, that the Boers werebetter men than we, that Heaven was against us, that Ladysmith, Mafeking, and Kimberley would fall, that the Estcourt garrison wouldperish, that foreign Powers would intervene, that we should lose SouthAfrica, and that would be the beginning of the end. So for the time Idespaired of the Empire, nor was it till the morning sun--all thebrighter after the rain storms, all the warmer after the chills--struckin through the windows that things reassumed their true colours andproportions. 

CHAPTER IX

THROUGH THE DUTCH CAMPS

Pretoria: November 30, 1899. 

The bitter wind of disappointment pierces even the cloak of sleep. Moreover, the night was cold and the wet clothes chilled and stiffenedmy limbs, provoking restless and satisfactory dreams. I was breakfastingwith President Kruger and General Joubert. 'Have some jam, ' said thePresident. 'Thanks, ' I replied, 'I would rather have marmalade. ' Butthere was none. Their evident embarrassment communicated itself to me. 'Never mind, ' I said, 'I'd just as soon have jam. ' But the President wasdeeply moved. 'No, no, ' he cried; 'we are not barbarians. Whatever youare entitled to you shall have, if I have to send to Johannesburg forit. ' So he got up to ring the bell, and with the clang I woke. 

The first light of dawn was just peering in through the skylight of thecorrugated iron shed. The soldiers lay in a brown litter about thefloor, several snoring horribly. The meaning of it came home with aslap. Imprisoned; not able to come and go at will; about to be draggedoff and put in some secluded place while others fought the great quarrelto the end; out of it all--like a pawn taken early in the game and flungaside into the box. I groaned with vexation, and, sitting up, arousedFrankland, who shared my blanket. Then the Boers unlocked the doors andordered us to get ready to march at once. 

The forage which we had spread on the floor rustled, and the first ideaof escape crossed my mind. Why not lie buried underneath this litteruntil prisoners and escort had marched away together? Would they count?Would they notice? I did not think so. They would reason--we know theyall went in; it is certain none could have escaped during the night:therefore all must be here this morning. Suppose they missed me? 'Whereis the "reporter, " with whom we talked last evening?' Haldane wouldreply that he must have slipped out of the door before it was shut. Theymight scour the country; but would they search the shed? It seemed mostunlikely. The scheme pleased my fancy exceedingly, and I was justresolving to conceal myself, when one of the guards entered and orderedeveryone to file out forthwith. 

We chewed a little more of the ox, slain and toasted the night before, and drank some rainwater from a large puddle, and, after this frugalbreakfast, intimated that we were ready. Then we set out--a sorry gangof dirty, tramping prisoners, but yesterday the soldiers of the Queen;while the fierce old farmers cantered their ponies about the veldt orclosed around the column, looking at us from time to time withirritating disdain and still more irritating pity. We marched across thewaggon bridge of the Tugela, and following the road, soon entered thehills. Among these we journeyed for several hours, wading across thegullies which the heavy rains had turned into considerable streams andpersecuted by the slanting rays of the sun. Here and there parties ofBoers met us, and much handshaking and patting on the back ensuedbetween the newcomers and our escort. Once we halted at a little fieldhospital--a dozen tents and waggons with enormous red-cross flags, tucked away in a deep hollow. 

We passed through Pieters without a check at the same toilsome plod andon to Nelthorpe. Here we began to approach the Dutch lines of investmentround Ladysmith, and the advance of half an hour brought us to a verystrong picket, where we were ordered to halt and rest. Nearly twohundred Boers swarmed round in a circle and began at once--for they areall keen politicians and as curious as children--to ask questions ofevery sort. What did we think of South Africa? Would we like to go in anarmoured train again? How long would the English go on fighting? Whenwould the war end? and the reply, 'When you are beaten, ' was receivedwith shouts of laughter. 

'Oh no, old chappie, you can never beat us. Look at Mafeking. We havetaken Mafeking. You will find Baden Powell waiting for you at Pretoria. Kimberley, too, will fall this week. Rhodes is trying to escape in aballoon, disguised as a woman--a fine woman. ' Great merriment at this. 'What about Ladysmith?' 'Ten days. Ten days more and then we shall havesome whisky. ' Listen. There was the boom of a heavy gun, and, turning, Isaw the white cloud of smoke hanging on the crest of Bulwana. 

'That goes on always, ' said the Boer. 'Can any soldiers bear that long?Oh, you will find all the English army at Pretoria. Indeed, if it werenot for the sea-sickness we would take England. Besides, do you thinkthe European Powers will allow you to bully us?'

I said, 'Why bully if you are so strong?'

'Well, why should you come and invade our country?'

'Your country? I thought this was Natal. '

'So it is: but Natal is ours. You stole it from us. Now we take it backagain. That's all. '

A hum of approval ran round the grinning circle. An old Boer came up. Hedid not understand what induced the soldiers to go in the armouredtrain. Frankland replied, 'Ordered to. Don't you have to obey yourorders?'

The old man shook his head in bewilderment, then he observed, 'I fightto kill: I do not fight to be killed. If the Field Cornet was to orderme to go in an armoured train, I would say to him, "Field Cornet, go tohell. "'

'Ah, you are not soldiers. '

'But we catch soldiers and kill soldiers and make soldiers run away. '

There was a general chorus of 'Yaw, yaw, yaw, ' and grunts of amusement. 

'You English, ' said a well-dressed man, 'die for your country: weAfrikanders live for ours. '

I said, 'Surely you don't think you will win this war?'

'Oh, yes; we will win all right this time, just the same as before. '

'But it is not the same as before. Gladstone is dead, they aredetermined at home. If necessary they will send three hundred thousandmen and spend a hundred millions. '

'We are not afraid; no matter how many thousand penny soldiers yousend, ' and an English Boer added, 'Let 'em all come. '

But there was one discordant note in the full chorus of confidence. Itrecurred again and again. 'Where is Buller?' 'When is Buller coming?'These merry fellows were not without their doubts. 

'He will come when the army is ready. '

'But we have beaten the army. '

'No, the war has not begun yet. '

'It's all over for you, old chappie, anyway. '

It was a fair hit. I joined the general laughter, and, reviewing theincident by the light of subsequent events, feel I had some right to. 

Very soon after this we were ordered to march again, and we began tomove to the eastward in the direction of the Bulwana Hill, descending aswe did so into the valley of the Klip River. The report of theintermittent guns engaged in the bombardment of Ladysmith seemed veryloud and near, and the sound of the British artillery making occasionalreply could be plainly distinguished. After we had crossed the railwayline beyond Nelthorpe I caught sight of another evidence of theproximity of friends. High above the hills, to the left of the path, hung a speck of gold-beater's skin. It was the Ladysmith balloon. There, scarcely two miles away, were safety and honour. The soldiers noticedthe balloon too. 'Those are our blokes, ' they said. 'We ain't allfinished yet, ' and so they comforted themselves, and a young sergeantadvanced a theory that the garrison would send out cavalry to rescue us. 

We kept our eyes on the balloon till it was hidden by the hills, and Ithought of all that lay at the bottom of its rope. BeleagueredLadysmith, with its shells, its flies, its fever, and its filth seemeda glorious paradise to me. 

We forded the Klip River breast high, and, still surrounded by ourescort, trudged on towards the laagers behind Bulwana. But it was justthree o'clock, after about ten hours' marching, that we reached the campwhere we were to remain for the night. Having had no food--except thetoasted ox, a disgusting form of nourishment--and being besides unusedto walking far, I was so utterly worn out on arrival that at first Icared for nothing but to lie down under the shade of a bush. But afterthe Field-Cornet had given us some tea and bully beef, and courteouslybidden us to share the shelter of his tent, I felt equal to furtherargument. 

The Boers were delighted and crowded into the small tent. 

'Will you tell us why there is this war?'

I said that it was because they wanted to beat us out of South Africaand we did not like the idea. 

'Oh no, that is not the reason. ' Now that the war had begun they woulddrive the British into the sea; but if we had been content with what wehad they would not have interfered with us--except to get a port andhave their full independence recognised. 

'I will tell you what is the real cause of this war. It's all thosedamned capitalists. They want to steal our country, and they have boughtChamberlain, and now these three, Rhodes, Beit, and Chamberlain, thinkthey will have the Rand to divide between them afterwards. '

'Don't you know that the gold mines are the property of theshareholders, many of whom are foreigners--Frenchman and Germans andothers? After the war, whatever government rules, they will still belongto these people. '

'What are we fighting for then?'

'Because you hate us bitterly, and have armed yourselves in order toattack us, and we naturally chose to fight when we are not occupiedelsewhere. "Agree with thine adversary whiles thou art in the way withhim. '"

'Don't you think it wicked to try to steal our country?'

'We only want to protect ourselves and our own interests. We didn't wantyour country. '

'No, but the damned capitalists do. '

'If you had tried to keep on friendly terms with us there would havebeen no war. But you want to drive us out of South Africa. Think of agreat Afrikander Republic--all South Africa speaking Dutch--a UnitedStates under your President and your Flag, sovereign and international. '

Their eyes glittered. 'That's what we want, ' said one. 'Yaw, yaw, ' saidthe others, 'and that's what we're going to have. '

'Well, that's the reason of the war. '

'No, no. You know it's those damned capitalists and Jews who have causedthe war. ' And the argument recommenced its orbit. 

So the afternoon wore away. 

As the evening fell the Commandant required us to withdraw to some tentswhich had been pitched at the corner of the laager. A special tent wasprovided for the officers, and now, for the first time, they foundthemselves separated from their men. I had a moment in which to decidewhether I would rank as officer or private, and chose the former, achoice I was soon to regret. Gradually it became night. The scene as thedaylight faded was striking and the circumstances were impressive. Thedark shadow of Bulwana mountain flung back over the Dutch camp, and therugged, rock-strewn hills rose about it on all sides. The great waggonswere arranged to enclose a square, in the midst of which stood clustersof variously shaped tents and lines of munching oxen. Within the laagerand around it little fires began to glow, and by their light the figuresof the Boers could be seen busy cooking and eating their suppers, orsmoking in moody, muttering groups. All was framed by the triangulardoorway of the tent, in which two ragged, bearded men sat nursing theirrifles and gazing at their captives in silence. Nor was it till mycompanions prepared to sleep that the stolid guards summoned the energyand wit to ask, in struggling English (for these were real veldtBoers), the inevitable question, 'And after all, what are we fightingfor? Why is there this war?' But I was tired of arguing, so I said, 'Itis the will of God, ' and turned to rest with a more confident feelingthan the night before, for I felt that these men were wearying of thestruggle. 

To rest but not to sleep, for the knowledge that the British lines atLadysmith lay only five miles away filled my brain with hopes and plansof escape. I had heard it said that all Dutchmen slept between 12 and 2o'clock, and I waited, trusting that our sentries would observe thenational custom. But I soon saw that I should have been better situatedwith the soldiers. We three officers were twenty yards from the laager, and around our little tent, as I learned by peering through a rent inthe canvas, no less than four men were posted. At intervals they werevisited or relieved, at times they chatted together; but never for aminute was their vigilance relaxed, and the continual clicking of theMauser breech bolts, as they played with their rifles, unpleasantlyproclaimed their attention. The moon was full and bright, and it wasobvious that no possible chance of success awaited an attempt. 

With the soldiers the circumstances were more favourable. Their tentstood against the angle of the laager, and although the sentries watchedthe front and sides it seemed to me that a man might crawl through theback, and by walking boldly across the laager itself pass safely outinto the night. It was certainly a road none would expect a fugitive totake; but whatever its chances it was closed to me, for the guard waschanged at midnight and a new sentry stationed between our tent andthose near the laager. 

I examined him through the torn tent. He was quite a child--a boy ofabout fourteen--and needless to say appreciated the importance of hisduties. He played this terrible game of soldiers with all his heart andsoul; so at last I abandoned the idea of flight and fell asleep. 

In the morning, before the sun was up, the Commandant Davel came torouse us. The prisoners were to march at once to Elandslaagte Station. 'How far?' we asked, anxiously, for all were very footsore. 'Only a verylittle way--five hours' slow walking. ' We stood up--for we had slept inour clothes and cared nothing for washing--and said that we were ready. The Commandant then departed, to return in a few minutes bringing sometea and bully beef, which he presented to us with an apology for theplainness of the fare. He asked an English-speaking Boer to explain thatthey had nothing better themselves. After we had eaten and were about toset forth, Dayel said, through his interpreter, that he would like toknow from us that we were satisfied with the treatment we met with athis laager. We gladly gave him the assurance, and with much respect badegood-bye to this dignified and honourable enemy. Then we were marchedaway over the hills towards the north, skirting the picket line roundLadysmith to the left. Every half-mile or so the road led through or bysome Boer laager, and the occupants--for it was a quiet day in thebatteries--turned out in hundreds to look at us. I do not know how manymen I saw, but certainly during this one march not less than 5, 000. Ofthis great number two only offered insults to the gang of prisoners. Onewas a dirty, mean-looking little Hollander. He said, 'Well, Tommy, you've got your franchise, anyhow. ' The other was an Irishman. Headdressed himself to Frankland, whose badges proclaimed his regiment. What he said when disentangled from obscenity amounted to this: 'I amglad to see you Dublin fellows in trouble. ' The Boers silenced him atonce and we passed on. But that was all the taunting we received duringthe whole journey from Frere Station to Pretoria, and when one remembersthat the Burghers are only common men with hardly any real discipline, the fact seems very remarkable. But little and petty as it was it galledhorribly. The soldiers felt the sting and scowled back; the officerslooked straight before them. Yet it was a valuable lesson. Only a fewdays before I had read in the newspapers of how the Kaffirs had jeeredat the Boer prisoners when they were marched into Pietermaritzburg, saying, 'Where are your passes?' It had seemed a very harmless jokethen, but now I understood how a prisoner feels these things. 

It was about eleven o'clock when we reached Elandslaagte Station. Atrain awaited the prisoners. There were six or seven closed vans for themen and a first-class carriage for the officers. Into a compartment ofthis we were speedily bundled. Two Boers with rifles sat themselvesbetween us, and the doors were locked. I was desperately hungry, andasked for both food and water. 'Plenty is coming, ' they said, so wewaited patiently, and sure enough, in a few minutes a railway officialcame along the platform, opened the door, and thrust before us ingenerous profusion two tins of preserved mutton, two tins of preservedfish, four or five loaves, half a dozen pots of jam, and a large can oftea. As far as I could see the soldiers fared no worse. The reader willbelieve that we did not stand on ceremony, but fell to at once and madethe first satisfying meal for three days. While we ate a great crowd ofBoers gathered around the train and peered curiously in at the windows. One of them was a doctor, who, noticing that my hand was bound up, inquired whether I were wounded. The cut caused by the splinter ofbullet was insignificant, but since it was ragged and had received noattention for two days it had begun to fester. I therefore showed him myhand, and he immediately bustled off to get bandages and hot water andwhat not, with which, amid the approving grins of the rough fellows whothronged the platform, he soon bound me up very correctly. 

The train whereby we were to travel was required for other businessbesides; and I noticed about a hundred Boers embarking with their horsesin a dozen large cattle trucks behind the engine. At or about noon westeamed off, moving slowly along the line, and Captain Haldane pointedout to me the ridge of Elandslaagte, and gave me some further account ofthat successful action and of the great skill with which Hamilton haddirected the infantry attack. The two Boers who were guarding uslistened with great interest, but the single observation they made wasthat we had only to fight Germans and Hollanders at Elandslaagte. 'Ifthese had been veldt Boers in front of you----' My companion repliedthat even then the Gordon Highlanders might have made some progress. Whereat both Boers laughed softly and shook their heads with the air ofa wiseacre, saying, 'You will know better when you're as old as me, ' aremark I constantly endure from very worthy people. 

Two stations beyond Elandslaagte the Boer commando, or portion ofcommando, left the train, and the care and thought that had beenlavished on the military arrangements were very evident. All thestations on the line were fitted with special platforms three or fourhundred yards long, consisting of earth embankments revetted with woodtowards the line and sloping to the ground on the other side. Thehorsemen were thereby enabled to ride their horses out of the trucks, and in a few minutes all were cantering away across the plain. One ofthe Boer guards noticed the attention I paid to these arrangements. 'Itis in case we have to go back quickly to the Biggarsberg or Laing'sNek, ' he explained. As we travelled on I gradually fell intoconversation with this man. His name, he told me, was Spaarwater, whichhe pronounced _Spare-_water. He was a farmer from the Ermolo district. In times of peace he paid little or no taxes. For the last four years hehad escaped altogether. The Field Cornet, he remarked, was a friend ofhis. But for such advantages he lay under the obligation to servewithout pay in war-time, providing horse, forage, and provisions. He wasa polite, meek-mannered little man, very anxious in all the discussionto say nothing that could hurt the feelings of his prisoners, and I tooka great liking to him. He had fought at Dundee. 'That, ' he said, 'was aterrible battle. Your artillery? _Bang! bang! bang_! came the shells allround us. And the bullets! _Whew_, don't tell me the soldiers can'tshoot. They shoot jolly well, old chappie. I, too, can shoot. I can hita bottle six times out of seven at a hundred yards, but when there is abattle then I do not shoot so well. '

The other man, who understood a little English, grinned at this, andmuttered something in Dutch. 

'What does he say?' I inquired. 

'He says "He too, "' replied Spaarwater. 'Besides, we cannot see yoursoldiers. At Dundee I was looking down the hill and saw nothing exceptrows of black boots marching and the black belts of one of theregiments. '

'But, ' I said, 'you managed to hit some of them after all. '

He smiled, 'Ah, yes, we are lucky, and God is on our side. Why, afterDundee, when we were retiring, we had to cross a great open plain, nevereven an ant-hill, and you had put twelve great cannons--I countedthem--and Maxims as well, to shoot us as we went; but not one fired ashot. Was it not God's hand that stopped them? After that we knew. '

I said: 'Of course the guns did not fire, because you had raised thewhite flag. '

'Yes, ' he answered, 'to ask for armistice, but not to give in. We arenot going to give in yet. Besides, we have heard that your Lancersspeared our wounded at Elandslaagte. ' We were getting on dangerousground. He hastened to turn the subject. 'It's all those lyingnewspapers that spread these reports on both sides, just like thecapitalists made the war by lying. '

A little further on the ticket collector came to join in theconversation. He was a Hollander, and very eloquent. 

'Why should you English take this country away from us?' he asked, andthe silent Boer chimed in broken English. 'Are not our farms our own?Why must we fight for them?'

I endeavoured to explain the ground of our quarrel. 'After all Britishgovernment is not a tyranny. '

'It's no good for a working-man, ' said the ticket collector; 'look atKimberley. Kimberley was a good place to live in before the capitalistscollared it. Look at it now. Look at me. What are my wages?'

I forget what he said they were, but they were extraordinary wages for aticket collector. 

'Do you suppose I should get such wages under the English Government?'

I said 'No. '

'There you are, ' he said. 'No English Government for me, ' and addedinconsequently, 'We fight for our freedom. '

Now I thought I had an argument that would tell. I turned th the farmer, who had been listening approvingly:

'Those are very good wages. '

'Ah, yes. '

'Where does the money come from?'

'Oh, from the taxes . .. And from the railroad. '

'Well, now, you send a good deal of your produce by rail, I suppose?'

'Ya' (an occasional lapse into Dutch). 

'Don't you find the rates very high?'

'Ya, ya, ' said both the Boers together; 'very high. '

'That is because he' (pointing to the ticket collector) 'is getting suchgood wages. You are paying them. ' At this they both laughed heartily, and Spaarwater said that that was quite true, and that the rates weretoo high. 

'Under the English Government, ' I said, 'he will not get such highwages; you will not have to pay such high rates. '

They received the conclusion in silence. Then Spaarwater said, 'Yes, butwe shall have to pay a tribute to your Queen. '

'Does Cape Colony?' I asked. 

'Well, what about that ironclad?'

'A present, a free-will offering because they are contented--as you willbe some day--under our flag. '

'No, no, old chappie, we don't want your flag; we want to be left alone. We are free, you are not free. '

'How do you mean "not free"?'

'Well, is it right that a dirty Kaffir should walk on thepavement--without a pass too? That's what they do in your BritishColonies. Brother! Equal! Ugh! Free! Not a bit. We know how to treatKaffirs. '

Probing at random I had touched a very sensitive nerve. We had got downfrom underneath the political and reached the social. What is the trueand original root of Dutch aversion to British rule? It is not SlagtersNek, nor Broomplatz, nor Majuba, nor the Jameson Raid. Those incidentsonly fostered its growth. It is the abiding fear and hatred of themovement that seeks to place the native on a level with the white man. British government is associated in the Boer farmer's mind with violentsocial revolution. Black is to be proclaimed the same as white. Theservant is to be raised against the master; the Kaffir is to be declaredthe brother of the European, to be constituted his legal equal, to bearmed with political rights. The dominant race is to be deprived oftheir superiority; nor is a tigress robbed of her cubs more furious thanis the Boer at this prospect. 

I mused on the tangled skein of politics and party principles. ThisBoer farmer was a very typical character, and represented to my mind allthat was best and noblest in the African Dutch character. Supposing hehad been conducting Mr. Morley to Pretoria, not as a prisoner of war, but as an honoured guest, instead of me, what would their conversationhave been? How excellently they would have agreed on the generalquestion of the war! I could imagine the farmer purring with delight ashis distinguished charge dilated in polished sentences upon liberty andthe rights of nationalities. Both would together have bewailed thehorrors of war and the crime of aggression; both would have condemnedthe tendencies of modern Imperialism and Capitalism; both would havebeen in complete accord whenever the names of Rhodes, Chamberlain, orMilner were mentioned. And the spectacle of this citizen soldier, calledreluctant, yet not unwilling, from the quiet life of his farm to fightbravely in defence of the soil on which he lived, which his fathers hadwon by all manner of suffering and peril, and to preserve theindependence which was his pride and joy, against great enemies ofregulars--surely that would have drawn the most earnest sympathy of theeminent idealist. And then suddenly a change, a jarring note in the duetof agreement. 

'_We_ know how to treat Kaffirs in _this_ country. Fancy letting theblack filth walk on the pavement!'

And after that no more agreement: but argument growing keener andkeener; gulf widening every moment. 

'Educate a Kaffir! Ah, that's you English all over. No, no, old chappie. We educate 'em with a stick. Treat 'em with humanity andconsideration--I like that. They were put here by the God Almighty towork for us. We'll stand no damned nonsense from them. We'll keep themin their proper places. What do you think? Insist on their propertreatment will you? Ah, that's what we're going to see about now. We'llsettle whether you English are to interfere with us before this war isover. '

The afternoon dragged away before the train passed near Dundee. Lieutenant Frankland had helped to storm Talana Hill, and was muchexcited to see the field of battle again under these new circumstances. 'It would all have been different if Symons had lived. We should neverhave let them escape from under our guns. That commando would have beensmashed up altogether. '

'But what about the other commando that came up the next day?'

'Oh, the General would have managed them all right. He'd have, soonfound some way of turning them out. ' Nor do I doubt he would, if thefearless confidence with which he inspired his troops could haveprotected his life. But the bullet is brutally indiscriminating, andbefore it the brain of a hero or the quarters of a horse stand exactlythe same chance to the vertical square inch. 

After Talana Hill was lost to view we began to search for Majuba, andsaw it just as night closed in--a great dark mountain with memories assad and gloomy as its appearance. The Boer guards pointed out to uswhere they had mounted their big cannons to defend Laing's Nek, andremarked that the pass was now impregnable. I could not resist saying, 'This is not the only road into the Transvaal. ' 'Ah, but you Englishalways come where we want you to come. '

We now approached the frontier. I had indulged in hopes of leaving thetrain while in the Volksrust Tunnel by climbing out of the window. Thepossibility had, however, presented itself to Spaarwater, for he shutboth windows, and just before we reached the entrance opened the breechof his Mauser to show me that it was fully loaded. So prudence againimposed patience. It was quite dark when the train reached Volksrust, and we knew ourselves actually in the enemy's country. The platform wasdensely crowded with armed Boers. It appeared that two new commandos hadbeen called out, and were waiting for trains to take them to the front. Moreover, a strong raiding party had just come back from BritishSwaziland. The windows were soon blocked with the bearded faces of menwho gazed stolidly and commented freely to each other on ourappearance. It was like being a wild beast in a cage. After some time ayoung woman pushed her way to the window and had a prolonged stare, atthe end of which she observed in a loud voice (I must record it)--'Why, they're not so bad looking after all. ' At this there was generallaughter, and Spaarwater, who was much concerned, said that they meantno harm, and that if we were annoyed he would have everyone clearedaway. But I said: 'Certainly not; let them feast their eyes. ' So theydid, for forty minutes by the clock. 

Their faces were plain and rough, but not unkindly. The littlenarrow-set pig-eyes were the most displeasing feature. For the rest theylooked what they were, honest ignorant peasants with wits sharpened bymilitary training and the conditions of a new country. Presently Inoticed at the window furthest from the platform one of quite adifferent type. A handsome boyish face without beard or moustache, and avery amiable expression. We looked at each other. There was no one elseat that side of the carriage. 

'Will you have some cigarettes?' he said, holding me out a packet. Itook one, and we began to talk. 'Is there going to be much more war?' heinquired anxiously. 

'Yes, very much more; we have scarcely begun, ' He looked quitemiserable. 

I said, 'You have not been at the front yet?'

'No, I am only just commandeered. '

'How old are you?'

'Sixteen. '

'That's very young to go and fight. '

He shook his head sadly. 

'What's your name?'

'Cameron. '

'That's not a Dutch name?'

'No, I'm not a Dutchman. My father came from Scotland. '

'Then why do you go and fight against the British?'

'How can I help it? I live here. You must go when you're commandeered. They wouldn't let me off. Mother tried her best. But it's "come out andfight or leave the country" here, and we've got nothing but the farm. '

'The Government would have paid you compensation afterwards. '

'Ah! that's what they told father last time. He was loyal, and helped todefend the Pretoria laager. He lost everything, and he had to begin allover again. '

'So now you fight against your country?'

'I can't help it, ' he repeated sullenly, 'you must go when you'recommandeered. ' And then he climbed down off the footboard, and I did notsee him again--one piteous item of Gladstone's legacy--the ruined andabandoned loyalist in the second generation. 

Before the train left Volksrust we changed our guards. The honestburghers who had captured us had to return to the front, and we were tobe handed over to the police. The leader of the escort--a dear oldgentleman--I am ignorant of his official rank--approached and explainedthrough Spaarwater that it was he who had placed the stone and so causedour misfortunes. He said he hoped we bore no malice. We replied by nomeans, and that we would do the same for him with pleasure any day. Frankland asked him what rewards he would get for such distinguishedservice. In truth he might easily have been shot, had we turned thecorner a minute earlier. The subaltern apparently contemplated someRepublican V. C. Or D. S. O. But the farmer was much puzzled by hisquestion. After some explaining we learnt that he had been givenfourteen days' furlough to go home to his farm and see his wife. Hisevident joy and delight were touching. I said 'Surely this is a verycritical time to leave the front. You may miss an important battle. '

'Yes, ' he replied simply, 'I hope so. ' Then we said 'good-bye, ' and Igave him, and also Spaarwater, a little slip of paper setting forth thatthey had shown kindness and courtesy to British prisoners of war, andpersonally requesting anyone into whose hands the papers might come totreat them well, should they themselves be taken by the Imperial forces. 

We were then handed to a rather dilapidated policeman of a gendarmetype, who spat copiously on the floor of the carriage and informed usthat we should be shot if we attempted to escape. Having no desire tospeak to this fellow, we let down the sleeping shelves of thecompartment and, as the train steamed out of Volksrust, turned to sleep. 

CHAPTER X

IN AFRIKANDER BONDS

Pretoria: December 3rd, 1899. 

It was, as nearly as I can remember, midday when the train-load ofprisoners reached Pretoria. We pulled up in a sort of siding with anearth platform on the right side which opened into the streets of thetown. The day was fine, and the sun shone brightly. There was aconsiderable crowd of people to receive us; ugly women with brightparasols, loafers and ragamuffins, fat burghers too heavy to ride at thefront, and a long line of untidy, white-helmeted policemen--'zarps' asthey were called--who looked like broken-down constabulary. Someoneopened--unlocked, that is, the point--the door of the railway carriageand told us to come out; and out we came--a very ragged and tatteredgroup of officers--and waited under the sun blaze and the gloating ofmany eyes. About a dozen cameras were clicking busily, establishing animperishable record of our shame. Then they loosed the men and bade themform in rank. The soldiers came out of the dark vans, in which they hadbeen confined, with some eagerness, and began at once to chirp and joke, which seemed to me most ill-timed good humour. We waited altogether forabout twenty minutes. Now for the first time since my capture I hatedthe enemy. The simple, valiant burghers at the front, fighting bravelyas they had been told 'for their farms, ' claimed respect, if notsympathy. But here in Pretoria all was petty and contemptible. Slimy, sleek officials of all nationalities--the red-faced, snub-nosedHollander, the oily Portuguese half-caste--thrust or wormed their waythrough the crowd to look. I seemed to smell corruption in the air. Herewere the creatures who had fattened on the spoils. There in the fieldwere the heroes who won them. Tammany Hall was defended by theIronsides. 

From these reflections I was recalled by a hand on my shoulder. Alanky, unshaven police sergeant grasped my arm. 'You are not anofficer, ' he said; 'you go this way with the common soldiers, ' and heled me across the open space to where the men were formed in a column offours. The crowd grinned: the cameras clicked again. I fell in with thesoldiers and seized the opportunity to tell them not to laugh or smile, but to appear serious men who cared for the cause they fought for; andwhen I saw how readily they took the hint, and what influence Ipossessed with them, it seemed to me that perhaps with two thousandprisoners something some day might be done. But presently a superiorofficial--superior in rank alone, for in other respects he looked amiserable creature--came up and led me back to the officers. At last, when the crowd had thoroughly satisfied their patriotic curiosity, wewere marched off; the soldiers to the enclosed camp on the racecourse, the officers to the States Model Schools prison. 

The distance was short, so far as we were concerned, and surrounded byan escort of three armed policemen to each officer, we swiftly traversedtwo sandy avenues with detached houses on either hand, and reached ourdestination. We turned a corner; on the other side of the road stood along, low, red brick building with a slated verandah and a row of ironrailings before it. The verandah was crowded with bearded men in _khaki_uniforms or brown suits of flannel--smoking, reading, or talking. Theylooked up as we arrived. The iron gate was opened, and passing in wejoined sixty British officers 'held by the enemy;' and the iron gate wasthen shut again. 

'Hullo! How are you? Where did they catch you? What's the latest news ofBuller's advance? Are we going to be exchanged?' and a dozen otherquestions were asked. It was the sort of reception accorded to a new boyat a private school, or, as it seemed to me, to a new arrival in hell. But after we had satisfied our friends in as much as we could, suggestions of baths, clothes, and luncheon were made which were verywelcome. So we settled down to what promised to be a long and wearywaiting. 

The States Model Schools is a one-storied building of considerable sizeand solid structure, which occupies a corner formed by two roads throughPretoria. It consists of twelve large class-rooms, seven or eight ofwhich were used by the British officers as dormitories and one as adining-room; a large lecture-hall, which served as an improvisedfives-court; and a well-fitted gymnasium. It stood in a quadrangularplayground about one hundred and twenty yards square, in which were adozen tents for the police guards, a cookhouse, two tents for thesoldier servants, and a newly set-up bath-shed. I do not know how thearrival of other prisoners may have modified these arrangements, but atthe time of my coming into the prison, there was room enough foreveryone. 

The Transvaal Government provided a daily ration of bully beef andgroceries, and the prisoners were allowed to purchase from the localstorekeeper, a Mr. Boshof, practically everything they cared to order, except alcoholic liquors. During the first week of my detention werequested that this last prohibition might be withdrawn, and afterprofound reflection and much doubtings, the President consented tocountenance the buying of bottled beer. Until this concession wasobtained our liquid refreshment would have satisfied the most immoderateadvocate of temperance, and the only relief was found when the Secretaryof State for War, a kind-hearted Portuguese, would smuggle in a bottleof whiskey hidden in his tail-coat pocket or amid a basket of fruit. Avery energetic and clever young officer of the Dublin Fusiliers, Lieutenant Grimshaw, undertook the task of managing the mess, and whenhe was assisted by another subaltern--Lieutenant Southey, of the RoyalIrish Fusiliers--this became an exceedingly well-conducted concern. Inspite of the high prices prevailing in Pretoria--prices which werecertainly not lowered for our benefit--the somewhat meagre rations whichthe Government allowed were supplemented, until we lived, for threeshillings a day, quite as well as any regiment on service. 

On arrival, every officer was given a new suit of clothes, bedding, towels, and toilet necessaries, and the indispensable Mr, Boshof wasprepared to add to this wardrobe whatever might be required on paymenteither in money or by a cheque on Messrs. Cox & Co. , whose accommodatingfame had spread even to this distant hostile town. I took an earlyopportunity to buy a suit of tweeds of a dark neutral colour, and asunlike the suits of clothes issued by the Government as possible. Iwould also have purchased a hat, but another officer told me that he hadasked for one and had been refused. After all, what use could I find fora hat, when there were plenty of helmets to spare if I wanted to Walk inthe courtyard? And yet my taste ran towards a slouch hat. 

The case of the soldiers was less comfortable than ours. Their rationswere very scanty: only one pound of bully beef once a week and twopounds of bread; the rest was made up with mealies, potatoes, andsuch-like--and not very much of them. Moreover, since they had nomoney of their own, and since prisoners of war received no pay, theywere unable to buy even so much as a pound of tobacco. In consequencethey complained a good deal, and were, I think, sufficientlydiscontented to require nothing but leading to make them rise againsttheir guards. 

The custody and regulating of the officers were entrusted to a board ofmanagement, four of whose members visited us frequently and listened toany complaints or requests. M. De Souza, the Secretary of War, wasperhaps the most friendly and obliging of these, and I think we owedmost of the indulgences to his representations. He was a far-seeinglittle man who had travelled to Europe, and had a very clear conceptionof the relative strengths of Britain and the Transvaal. He enjoyed alucrative and influential position under the Government, and wastherefore devoted to its interests, but he was nevertheless suspected bythe Inner Ring of Hollanders and the Relations of the President ofhaving some sympathy for the British. He had therefore to be verycareful. Commandant Opperman, who was directly responsible for our safecustody, was in times of peace a Landrost or Justice. He was too fat togo and fight, but he was an honest and patriotic Boer, who would havegladly taken an active part in the war. He firmly believed that theRepublics would win, and when, as sometimes happened, bad news reachedPretoria, Opperman looked a picture of misery, and would come to us andspeak of his resolve to shoot his wife and children and perish in thedefence of the capital. Dr. Gunning was an amiable little Hollander, fat, rubicund, and well educated. He was a keen politician, and muchattached to the Boer Government, which paid him an excellent salary forlooking after the State Museum. He had a wonderful collection of postagestamps, and was also engaged in forming a Zoological Garden. This lastambition had just before the war led him into most serious trouble, forhe was unable to resist the lion which Mr. Rhodes had offered him. Heconfided to me that the President had spoken 'most harshly' to him inconsequence, and had peremptorily ordered the immediate return of thebeast under threats of instant dismissal. Gunning said that he could nothave borne such treatment, but that after all a man must live. Myprivate impression is that he will acquiesce in any political settlementwhich leaves him to enlarge his museum undisturbed. But whether theTransvaal will be able to indulge in such luxuries, after blowing upmany of other people's railway bridges, is a question which I cannotanswer. 

The fourth member of the Board, Mr. Malan, was a foul and objectionablebrute. His personal courage was better suited to insulting the prisonersin Pretoria than to fighting the enemy at the front. He was closelyrelated to the President, but not even this advantage could altogetherprotect him from taunts of cowardice, which were made even in theExecutive Council, and somehow filtered down to us. On one occasion hefavoured me with some of his impertinence; but I reminded him that inwar either side may win, and asked whether he was wise to place himselfin a separate category as regards behaviour to the prisoners. 'Because, 'quoth I, 'it might be so convenient to the British Government to be ableto make one or two examples. ' He was a great gross man, and his colourcame and went on a large over-fed face; so that his uneasiness wasobvious. He never came near me again, but some days later the news of aBoer success arrived, and on the strength of this he came to the prisonand abused a subaltern in the Dublin Fusiliers, telling him that he wasno gentleman, and other things which it is not right to say to aprisoner. The subaltern happens to be exceedingly handy with his fists, so that after the war is over Mr. Malan is going to get his head punchedquite independently of the general settlement. 

Although, as I have frequently stated, there were no legitimate groundsof complaint against the treatment of British regular officers whileprisoners of war, the days I passed at Pretoria were the most monotonousand among the most miserable of my life. Early in the sultry mornings, for the heat at this season of the year was great, the soldierservants--prisoners like ourselves--would bring us a cup of coffee, andsitting up in bed we began to smoke the cigarettes and cigars of anotheridle, aimless day. Breakfast was at nine: a nasty uncomfortable meal. The room was stuffy, and there are more enlivening spectacles thanseventy British officers caught by Dutch farmers and penned together inconfinement. Then came the long morning, to be killed somehow byreading, chess, or cards--and perpetual cigarettes. Luncheon at one: thesame as breakfast, only more so; and then a longer afternoon to follow along morning. Often some of the officers used to play rounders in thesmall yard which we had for exercise. But the rest walked moodily up anddown, or lounged over the railings and returned the stares of theoccasional passers-by. Later would come the 'Volksstem'--permitted byspecial indulgence--with its budget of lies. 

Sometimes we get a little fillip of excitement. One evening, as I wasleaning over the railings, more than forty yards from the nearestsentry, a short man with a red moustache walked quickly down the street, followed by two colley dogs. As he passed, but without altering his pacein the slightest, or even looking towards me, he said quite distinctly'Methuen beat the Boers to hell at Belmont. ' That night the air seemedcooler and the courtyard larger. Already we imagined the Republicscollapsing and the bayonets of the Queen's Guards in the streets ofPretoria. Next day I talked to the War Secretary. I had made a large mapupon the wall and followed the course of the war as far as possible bymaking squares of red and green paper to represent the various columns. I said: 'What about Methuen? He has beaten you at Belmont. Now he shouldbe across the Modder. In a few days he will relieve Kimberley. ' De Souzashrugged his shoulders. 'Who can tell?' he replied; 'but, ' he put hisfinger on the map, 'there stands old Piet Cronje in a position calledScholz Nek, and we don't think Methuen will ever get past him. ' Theevent justified his words, and the battle which we call Magersfontein(and ought to call 'Maasfontayne') the Boers call Scholz Nek. 

Long, dull, and profitless were the days. I could not write, for the inkseemed to dry upon the pen. I could not read with any perseverance, andduring the whole month I was locked up, I only completed Carlyle's'History of Frederick the Great' and Mill's 'Essay on Liberty, ' neitherof which satisfied my peevish expectations. When at last the sun sankbehind the fort upon the hill and twilight marked the end of anotherwretched day, I used to walk up and down the courtyard lookingreflectively at the dirty, unkempt 'zarps' who stood on guard, rackingmy brains to find some way, by force or fraud, by steel or gold, ofregaining my freedom. Little did these Transvaal Policemen think, asthey leaned on their rifles, smoking and watching the 'tame officers, 'of the dark schemes of which they were the object, or of the peril inwhich they would stand but for the difficulties that lay _beyond_ thewall. For we would have made short work of them and their weapons anymisty night could we but have seen our way clear after that. 

As the darkness thickened, the electric lamps were switched on and thewhole courtyard turned blue-white with black velvet shadows. Then thebell clanged, and we crowded again into the stifling dining hall for thelast tasteless meal of the barren day. The same miserable stories weretold again and again--Colonel Moller's surrender after Talana Hill, andthe white flag at Nicholson's Nek--until I knew how the others came toPretoria as well as I knew my own story. 

'We never realised what had happened until we were actually prisoners, 'said the officers of the Dublin Fusiliers Mounted Infantry, who had beencaptured with Colonel Moller on October 20. 'The "cease fire" sounded:no one knew what had happened. Then we were ordered to form up at thefarmhouse, and there we found Boers, who told us to lay down our arms:we were delivered into their hands and never even allowed to have agallop for freedom. But wait for the Court of Inquiry. '

I used always to sit next to Colonel Carleton at dinner, and from himand from the others learned the story of Nicholson's Nek, which it isnot necessary to repeat here, but which filled me with sympathy for thegallant commander and soldiers who were betrayed by the act of anirresponsible subordinate. The officers of the Irish Fusiliers told meof the amazement with which they had seen the white flag flying. 'We hadstill some ammunition, ' they said; 'it is true the position wasindefensible--but we only wanted to fight it out. '

'My company was scarcely engaged, ' said one poor captain, with tears ofvexation in his eyes at the memory; and the Gloucesters told the sametale. 

'We saw the hateful thing flying. The firing stopped. No one knew bywhose orders the flag had been hoisted. While we doubted the Boers wereall among us disarming the men. '

I will write no more upon these painful subjects except to say this, that the hoisting of a white flag in token of surrender is an act whichcan be justified only by clear proof that there was no prospect ofgaining the slightest military advantage by going on fighting; and thatthe raising of a white flag in any case by an unauthorised person--i. E. Not the officer in chief command--in such a manner as to compromise theresistance of a force, deserves sentence of death, though in view of thehigh standard of discipline and honour prevailing in her Majesty's army, it might not be necessary to carry the sentence into effect. I earnestlytrust that in justice to gallant officers and soldiers, who havelanguished these weary months in Pretoria, there will be a strictinquiry into the circumstances under which they became prisoners of war. I have no doubt we shall be told that it is a foolish thing to washdirty linen in public; but much better wash it in public than wear itfoul. 

One day shortly after I had arrived I had an interesting visit, for deSouza, wishing to have an argument brought Mr. Grobelaar to see me. Thisgentleman was the Under Secretary for Foreign Affairs, and had justreturned from Mafeking, whither he had been conducting a 6-inch gun. Hewas a very well-educated person, and so far as I could tell, honest andcapable besides. With him came Reuter's Agent, Mr. Mackay, and theodious Malan. I received them sitting on my bed in the dormitory, andwhen they had lighted cigars, of which I always kept a stock, we had aregular _durbar_. I began:

'Well, Mr. Grobelaar, you see how your Government treats representativesof the Press. '

_Grobelaar_. 'I hope you have nothing to complain of

_Self_. 'Look at the sentries with loaded rifles on every side. I mightbe a wild beast instead of a special correspondent. '

_Grobelaar_. 'Ah, but putting aside the sentries with loaded rifles, youdo not, I trust, Mr. Churchill, make any complaint. '

_Self_. 'My chief objection to this place is that I am in it. '

_Grobelaar_. 'That of course is your misfortune, and Mr. Chamberlain'sfault. 

_Self_. 'Not at all. We are a peace-loving people, but we had no choicebut to fight or be--what was it your burghers told me in thecamps?--"driven into the sea. " The responsibility of the war is upon youand your President. '

_Grobelaar_. 'Don't you believe that. We did not want to fight. We onlywanted to be left alone. '

_Self_. 'You never wanted war?'

_de Souza_. 'Ah, my God, no! Do you think we would fight Great Britainfor amusement?'

_Self_. 'Then why did you make every preparation--turn the Republicsinto armed camps--prepare deep-laid plans for the invasion of ourColonies?'

_Grobelaar_. 'Why, what could we do after the Jameson Raid? We had to beready to protect ourselves. '

_Self_. 'Surely less extensive armaments would have been sufficient toguard against another similar inroad. '

_Grobelaar_. 'But we knew your Government was behind the Raiders. Jameson was in front, but Rhodes and your Colonial Office were at hiselbow. '

_Self_. 'As a matter of fact no two people were more disconcerted by theRaid than Chamberlain and Rhodes. Besides, the British Governmentdisavowed the Raiders' action and punished the Raiders, who, I am quiteprepared to admit, got no more than they deserved. '

_de Souza_. 'I don't complain about the British Government's action atthe time of the Raid. Chamberlain behaved very honourably then. But itwas afterwards, when Rhodes was not punished, that we knew it was all afarce, and that the British Government was bent on our destruction. Whenthe burghers knew that Rhodes was not punished they lost all trust inEngland. '

_Malan_. 'Ya, ya. That Rhodes, he is the . .. At the bottom of it all. You wait and see what we will do to Rhodes when we take Kimberley. '

_Self_. 'Then you maintain, de Souza, that the distrust caused in thiscountry by the fact that Rhodes was not punished--though how you canpunish a man who breaks no law I cannot tell--was the sole cause of yourGovernment making these gigantic military preparations, because it iscertain that these preparations were the actual cause of war. '

_Grobelaar_. 'Why should they be a cause of war? We would never haveattacked you. '

_Self_. 'But at this moment you are invading Cape Colony and Natal, while no British soldier has set foot on Republican soil. Moreover, itwas you who declared war upon us. '

_Grobelaar_. 'Naturally we were not such fools as to wait till your armywas here. As soon as you began to send your army, we were bound todeclare war. If you had sent it earlier we should have fought earlier. Really, Mr. Churchill, you must see that is only common sense. '

_Self_. 'I am not criticising your policy or tactics. You hated usbitterly--I dare say you had cause to. You made tremendouspreparations--I don't say you were wrong--but look at it from our pointof view. We saw a declared enemy armed and arming. Against us, andagainst us alone, could his preparations be directed. It was time wetook some precautions: indeed, we were already too late. Surely what hashappened at the front proves that we had no designs against you. Youwere ready. We were unready. It is the wolf and lamb if you like; butthe wolf was asleep and never before was a lamb with such teeth andclaws. '

_Grobelaar_. 'Do you really mean to say that we forced this war on you, that you did not want to fight us?'

_Self_. 'The country did not wish for war with the Boers. Personally, Ihave always done so. I saw that you had six rifles to every burgher inthe Republic. I knew what that meant. It meant that you were going toraise a great Afrikander revolt against us. One does not set extraplaces at table unless one expects company to dinner. On the otherhand, we have affairs all over the world, and at any moment may becomeembroiled with a European power. At this time things are very quiet. Theboard is clear in other directions. We can give you our undividedattention. Armed and ambitious as you were, the war had to come sooneror later. I have always said "sooner. " Therefore, I rejoiced when yousent your ultimatum and roused the whole nation. '

_Malan_. 'You don't rejoice quite so much now. '

_Self_. 'My opinion is unaltered, except that the necessity for settlingthe matter has become more apparent. As for the result, that, as I thinkMr. Grobelaar knows, is only a question of time and money expressed interms of blood and tears. '

_Grobelaar_. 'No: our opinion is quite unchanged. We prepared for thewar. We have always thought we could beat you. We do not doubt ourcalculations now. We have done better even than we expected. ThePresident is extremely pleased. '

_Self_. 'There is no good arguing on that point. We shall have to fightit out. But if you had tried to keep on friendly terms with us, the warwould not have come for a long time; and the delay was all on yourside. '

_Grobelaar_. 'We have tried till we are sick of it. This Government wasbadgered out of its life with Chamberlain's despatches--such despatches. And then look how we have been lied about in your papers, and calledbarbarians and savages. '

_Self_. 'I think you have certainly been abused unjustly. Indeed, when Iwas taken prisoner the other day, I thought it quite possible I shouldbe put to death, although I was a correspondent' (great laughter, 'Fancythat!' etc. ). 'At the best I expected to be held in prison as a kind ofhostage. See how I have been mistaken. '

I pointed at the sentry who stood in the doorway, for even members ofthe Government could not visit us alone. Grobelaar flushed. 'Oh, well, we will hope that the captivity will not impair your spirits. Besides, it will not last long. The President expects peace before the New Year. '

'I shall hope to be free by then. '

And with this the interview came to an end, and my visitors withdrew. The actual conversation had lasted more than an hour, but the dialogueabove is not an inaccurate summary. 

About ten days after my arrival at Pretoria I received a visit from theAmerican Consul, Mr. Macrum. It seems that some uncertainty prevailed athome as to whether I was alive, wounded or unwounded, and in what lightI was regarded by the Transvaal authorities. Mr. Bourke Cockran, anAmerican Senator who had long been a friend of mine, telegraphed fromNew York to the United States representative in Pretoria, hoping by thisneutral channel to learn how the case stood. I had not, however, talkedwith Mr. Macrum for very long before I realised that neither I nor anyother British prisoner was likely to be the better for any efforts whichhe might make on our behalf. His sympathies were plainly so much withthe Transvaal Government that he even found it difficult to dischargehis diplomatic duties. However, he so far sank his political opinionsas to telegraph to Mr. Bourke Cockran, and the anxiety which myrelations were suffering on my account was thereby terminated. 

I had one other visitor in these dull days, whom I should like tonotice. During the afternoon which I spent among the Boers in their campbehind Bulwana Hill I had exchanged a few words with an Englishman whosename is of no consequence, but who was the gunner entrusted with theaiming of the big 6-inch gun. He was a light-hearted jocular fellowoutwardly, but I was not long in discovering that his anxieties amongthe Boers were grave and numerous. He had been drawn into the war, sofar as I could make out, more by the desire of sticking to his ownfriends and neighbours than even of preserving his property. But besidesthis local spirit, which counterbalanced the racial and patrioticfeelings, there was a very strong desire to be upon the winning side, and I think that he regarded the Boers with an aversion which increasedin proportion as their successes fell short of their earlyanticipations. One afternoon he called at the States Model Schoolsprison and, being duly authorised to visit the prisoners, asked to seeme. In the presence of Dr. Gunning, I had an interesting interview. Atfirst our conversation was confined to generalities, but gradually, asthe other officers in the room, with ready tact, drew the littleHollander Professor into an argument, my renegade and I were able toexchange confidences. 

I was of course above all things anxious to get true news from the outerworld, and whenever Dr. Gunning's attention was distracted by hisdiscussion with the officers, I managed to get a little. 

'Well, you know, ' said the gunner, 'you English don't play fair atLadysmith at all. We have allowed you to have a camp at Intombi Spruitfor your wounded, and yet we see red cross flags flying in the town, andwe have heard that in the Church there is a magazine of ammunitionprotected by the red cross flag. Major Erasmus, he says to me "John, yousmash up that building, " and so when I go back I am going to fire intothe church. ' Gunning broke out into panegyrics on the virtues of theAfrikanders: my companion dropped his voice. 'The Boers have had aterrible beating at Belmont; the Free Staters have lost more than 200killed; much discouraged; if your people keep on like this the FreeState will break up. ' He raised his voice, 'Ladysmith hold out a month?Not possible; we shall give it a fortnight's more bombardment, and thenyou will just see how the burghers will scramble into their trenches. Plenty of whisky then, ha, ha, ha!' Then lower, 'I wish to God I couldget away from this, but I don't know what to do; they are alwayssuspecting me and watching me, and I have to keep on pretending I wantthem to win. This is a terrible position for a man to be in: curse thefilthy Dutchmen!'

I said, 'Will Methuen get to Kimberley?'

'I don't know, but he gave them hell at Belmont and at Graspan, and theysay they are fighting again to-day at Modder River. Major Erasmus isvery down-hearted about it. But the ordinary burghers hear nothing butlies; all lies, I tell you. _(Crescendo)_ Look at the lies that havebeen told about us! Barbarians! savages! every name your papers havecalled us, but you know better than that now; you know how well we havetreated you since you have been a prisoner; and look at the way yourpeople have treated our prisoners--put them on board ship to make themsea-sick! Don't you call that cruel?' Here Gunning broke in that it wastime for visitors to leave the prison. And so my strange guest, afeather blown along by the wind, without character or stability, arenegade, a traitor to his blood and birthplace, a time-server, had tohurry away. I took his measure; nor did his protestations of alarmexcite my sympathy, and yet somehow I did not feel unkindly towards him;a weak man is a pitiful object in times of trouble. Some of ourcountrymen who were living in the Transvaal and the Orange Free State atthe outbreak of the war have been placed in such difficult positions andtorn by so many conflicting emotions that they must be judged verytolerantly. How few men are strong enough to stand against theprevailing currents of opinion! Nor, after the desertion of the Britishresidents in the Transvaal in 1881, have we the right to judge theirsuccessors harshly if they have failed us, for it was Great and MightyBritain who was the renegade and traitor then. 

No sooner had I reached Pretoria than I demanded my release from theGovernment, on the grounds that I was a Press correspondent and anon-combatant. So many people have found it difficult to reconcile thisposition with the accounts which have been published of what transpiredduring the defence of the armoured train, that I am compelled toexplain. Besides the soldiers of the Dublin Fusiliers and Durban LightInfantry who had been captured, there were also eight or ten civilians, including a fireman, a telegraphist, and several men of the breakdowngang. Now it seems to me that according to international practice andthe customs of war, the Transvaal Government were perfectly justified inregarding all persons connected with a military train as actualcombatants; indeed, the fact that they were not soldiers was, ifanything, an aggravation of their case. But the Boers were at that timeoverstocked with prisoners whom they had to feed and guard, and theytherefore announced that the civilians would be released as soon astheir identity was established, and only the military retained asprisoners. 

In my case, however, an exception was to be made, and General Joubert, who had read the gushing accounts of my conduct which appeared in theNatal newspapers, directed that since I had taken part in the fighting Iwas to be treated as a combatant officer. 

Now, as it happened, I had confined myself strictly to the business ofclearing the line, which was entrusted to me, and although I do notpretend that I considered the matter in its legal aspect at the time, the fact remains that I did not give a shot, nor was I armed whencaptured. I therefore claimed to be included in the same category as thecivilian railway officials and men of the breakdown gang, whosedeclared duty it was to clear the line, pointing out that though myaction might differ in degree from theirs, it was of precisely the samecharacter, and that if they were regarded as non-combatants I had aright to be considered a non-combatant too. 

To this effect I wrote two letters, one to the Secretary of War and oneto General Joubert; but, needless to say, I did not indulge in much hopeof the result, for I was firmly convinced that the Boer authoritiesregarded me as a kind of hostage, who would make a pleasing addition tothe collection of prisoners they were forming against a change offortune. I therefore continued to search for a path of escape; andindeed it was just as well that I did so, for I never received anyanswer to either of my applications while I was a prisoner, although Ihave since heard that one arrived by a curious coincidence the very day_after_ I had departed. 

While I was looking about for means, and awaiting an opportunity tobreak out of the Model Schools, I made every preparation to make agraceful exit when the moment should arrive. I gave full instructions tomy friends as to what was to be done with my clothes and the effects Ihad accumulated during my stay; I paid my account to date with theexcellent Boshof; cashed a cheque on him for 20_l_. ; changed some of thenotes I had always concealed on my person since my capture into gold;and lastly, that there might be no unnecessary unpleasantness, I wrotethe following letter to the Secretary of State:

 States Model Schools Prison: December 10, 1899. 

 Sir, --I have the honour to inform you that as I do not consider that your Government have any right to detain me as a military prisoner, I have decided to escape from your custody. I have every confidence in the arrangements I have made with my friends outside, and I do not therefore expect to have another opportunity of seeing you. I therefore take this occasion to observe that I consider your treatment of prisoners is correct and humane, and that I see no grounds for complaint. When I return to the British lines I will make a public statement to this effect. I have also to thank you personally for your civility to me, and to express the hope that we may meet again at Pretoria before very long, and under different circumstances. Regretting that I am unable to bid you a more ceremonious or a personal farewell, I have the honour, to be, Sir, Your most obedient servant, WINSTON CHURCHILL. 

 To Mr. De Souza, Secretary of War, South African Republic. 

I arranged that this letter, which I took great pleasure in writing, should be left on my bed, and discovered so soon as my flight was known. 

It only remained now to find a hat. Luckily for me Mr. Adrian Hofmeyr, aDutch clergyman and pastor of Zeerust, had ventured before the war toexpress opinions contrary to those which the Boers thought befittingfor a Dutchman to hold. They had therefore seized him on the outbreak ofhostilities, and after much ill-treatment and many indignities on theWestern border, brought him to the States Schools. He knew most of theofficials, and could, I think, easily have obtained his liberty had hepretended to be in sympathy with the Republics. He was, however, a trueman, and after the clergyman of the Church of England, who was rather apoor creature, omitted to read the prayer for the Queen one Sunday, itwas to Hofmeyr's evening services alone that most of the officers wouldgo. I borrowed his hat. 

CHAPTER XI

I ESCAPE FROM THE BOERS

Lourenço Marques: December 22, 1899, How unhappy is that poor man who loses his liberty! What can the wideworld give him in exchange? No degree of material comfort, noconsciousness of correct behaviour, can balance the hateful degradationof imprisonment. Before I had been an hour in captivity, as the previouspages evidence, I resolved to escape. Many plans suggested themselves, were examined, and rejected. For a month I thought of nothing else. Butthe peril and difficulty restrained action. I think that it was thereport of the British defeat at Stormberg that clinched the matter. Allthe news we heard in Pretoria was derived from Boer sources, and washideously exaggerated and distorted. Every day we read in the'Volksstem'--probably the most astounding tissue of lies ever presentedto the public under the name of a newspaper--of Boer victories and ofthe huge slaughters and shameful flights of the British. However muchone might doubt and discount these tales, they made a deep impression. Amonth's feeding on such literary garbage weakens the constitution of themind. We wretched prisoners lost heart. Perhaps Great Britain would notpersevere; perhaps Foreign Powers would intervene; perhaps there wouldbe another disgraceful, cowardly peace. At the best the war and ourconfinement would be prolonged for many months. I do not pretend thatimpatience at being locked up was not the foundation of mydetermination; but I should never have screwed up my courage to make theattempt without the earnest desire to do something, however small, tohelp the British cause. Of course, I am a man of peace. I did not thencontemplate becoming an officer of Irregular Horse. But swords are notthe only weapons in the world. Something may be done with a pen. So Idetermined to take all hazards; and, indeed, the affair was one of verygreat danger and difficulty. 

The States Model Schools stand in the midst of a quadrangle, and aresurrounded on two sides by an iron grille and on two by a corrugatediron fence about 10 ft. High. These boundaries offered little obstacleto anyone who possessed the activity of youth, but the fact that theywere guarded on the inside by sentries, fifty yards apart, armed withrifle and revolver, made them a well-nigh insuperable barrier. No wallsare so hard to pierce as living walls. I thought of the penetratingpower of gold, and the sentries were sounded. They were incorruptible. Iseek not to deprive them of the credit, but the truth is that thebribery market in the Transvaal has been spoiled by the millionaires. Icould not afford with my slender resources to insult them heavilyenough. So nothing remained but to break out in spite of them. Withanother officer who may for the present--since he is still aprisoner--remain nameless, I formed a scheme. 

[Illustration: Plan of States Model Schools]

After anxious reflection and continual watching, it was discovered thatwhen the sentries near the offices walked about on their beats they wereat certain moments unable to see the top of a few yards of the wall. Theelectric lights in the middle of the quadrangle brilliantly lighted thewhole place but cut off the sentries beyond them from looking at theeastern wall, for from behind the lights all seemed darkness bycontrast. The first thing was therefore to pass the two sentries nearthe offices. It was necessary to hit off the exact moment when boththeir backs should be turned together. After the wall was scaled weshould be in the garden of the villa next door. There our plan came toan end. Everything after this was vague and uncertain. How to get out ofthe garden, how to pass unnoticed through the streets, how to evade thepatrols that surrounded the town, and above all how to cover the twohundred and eighty miles to the Portuguese frontiers, were questionswhich would arise at a later stage. All attempts to communicate withfriends outside had failed. We cherished the hope that with chocolate, a little Kaffir knowledge, and a great deal of luck, we might march thedistance in a fortnight, buying mealies at the native kraals and lyinghidden by day. But it did not look a very promising prospect. 

We determined to try on the night of the 11th of December, making up ourminds quite suddenly in the morning, for these things are best done onthe spur of the moment. I passed the afternoon in positive terror. Nothing, since my schooldays, has ever disturbed me so much as this. There is something appalling in the idea of stealing secretly off in thenight like a guilty thief. The fear of detection has a pang of its own. Besides, we knew quite well that on occasion, even on excuse, thesentries would fire. Fifteen yards is a short range. And beyond theimmediate danger lay a prospect of severe hardship and suffering, onlyfaint hopes of success, and the probability at the best of five monthsin Pretoria Gaol. 

The afternoon dragged tediously away. I tried to read Mr. Lecky's'History of England, ' but for the first time in my life that wisewriter wearied me. I played chess and was hopelessly beaten. At last itgrew dark. At seven o'clock the bell for dinner rang and the officerstrooped off. Now was the time. But the sentries gave us no chance. Theydid not walk about. One of them stood exactly opposite the onlypracticable part of the wall. We waited for two hours, but the attemptwas plainly impossible, and so with a most unsatisfactory feeling ofrelief to bed. 

Tuesday, the 12th! Another day of fear, but fear crystallising more andmore into desperation. Anything was better than further suspense. Nightcame again. Again the dinner bell sounded. Choosing my opportunity Istrolled across the quadrangle and secreted myself in one of theoffices. Through a chink I watched the sentries. For half an hour theyremained stolid and obstructive. Then all of a sudden one turned andwalked up to his comrade and they began to talk. Their backs wereturned. Now or never. I darted out of my hiding place and ran to thewall, seized the top with my hands and drew myself up. Twice I letmyself down again in sickly hesitation, and then with a third resolvescrambled up. The top was flat. Lying on it I had one parting glimpse ofthe sentries, still talking, still with their backs turned; but, Irepeat, fifteen yards away. Then I lowered myself silently down into theadjoining garden and crouched among the shrubs. I was free. The firststep had been taken, and it was irrevocable. 

It now remained to await the arrival of my comrade. The bushes of thegarden gave a good deal of cover, and in the moonlight their shadows layblack on the ground. Twenty yards away was the house, and I had not beenfive minutes in hiding before I perceived that it was full of people;the windows revealed brightly lighted rooms, and within I could seefigures moving about. This was a fresh complication. We had alwaysthought the house unoccupied. Presently--how long afterwards I do notknow, for the ordinary measures of time, hours, minutes, and seconds arequite meaningless on such occasions--a man came out of the door andwalked across the garden in my direction. Scarcely ten yards away hestopped and stood still, looking steadily towards me. I cannot describethe surge of panic which nearly overwhelmed me. I must be discovered. Idared not stir an inch. My heart beat so violently that I felt sick. Butamid a tumult of emotion, reason, seated firmly on her throne, whispered, 'Trust to the dark background. ' I remained absolutelymotionless. For a long time the man and I remained opposite each other, and every instant I expected him to spring forward. A vague idea crossedmy mind that I might silence him. 'Hush, I am a detective. We expectthat an officer will break out here to-night. I am waiting to catchhim. ' Reason--scornful this time--replied: 'Surely a Transvaal detectivewould speak Dutch. Trust to the shadow. ' So I trusted, and after a spellanother man came out of the house, lighted a cigar, and both he and theother walked off together. No sooner had they turned than a cat pursuedby a dog rushed into the bushes and collided with me. The startledanimal uttered a 'miaul' of alarm and darted back again, making ahorrible rustling. Both men stopped at once. But it was only the cat, asthey doubtless observed, and they passed out of the garden gate into thetown. 

I looked at my watch. An hour had passed since I climbed the wall. Wherewas my comrade? Suddenly I heard a voice from within the quadrangle say, quite loud, 'All up. ' I crawled back to the wall. Two officers werewalking up and down the other side jabbering Latin words, laughing andtalking all manner of nonsense--amid which I caught my name. I risked acough. One of the officers immediately began to chatter alone. The othersaid slowly and clearly, '. .. Cannot get out. The sentry suspects. It'sall up. Can you get back again?' But now all my fears fell from me atonce. To go back was impossible. I could not hope to climb the wallunnoticed. Fate pointed onwards. Besides, I said to myself, 'Of course, I shall be recaptured, but I will at least have a run for my money. ' Isaid to the officers, 'I shall go on alone. '

Now I was in the right mood for these undertakings--that is to say that, thinking failure almost certain, no odds against success affected me. All risks were less than the certainty. A glance at the plan (p. 182)will show that the rate which led into the road was only a few yardsfrom another sentry. I said to myself, 'Toujours de l'audace:' put myhat on my head, strode into the middle of the garden, walked past thewindows of the house without any attempt at concealment, and so wentthrough the gate and turned to the left. I passed the sentry at lessthan five yards. Most of them knew me by sight. Whether he looked at meor not I do not know, for I never turned my head. But after walking ahundred yards and hearing no challenge, I knew that the second obstaclehad been surmounted. I was at large in Pretoria. 

I walked on leisurely through the night humming a tune and choosing themiddle of the road. The streets were full of Burghers, but they paid noattention to me. Gradually I reached the suburbs, and on a little bridgeI sat down to reflect and consider. I was in the heart of the enemy'scountry. I knew no one to whom I could apply for succour. Nearly threehundred miles stretched between me and Delagoa Bay. My escape must beknown at dawn. Pursuit would be immediate. Yet all exits were barred. The town was picketed, the country was patrolled, the trains weresearched, the line was guarded. I had 75_l_. In my pocket and four slabsof chocolate, but the compass and the map which might have guided me, the opium tablets and meat lozenges which should have sustained me, werein my friend's pockets in the States Model Schools. Worst of all, Icould not speak a word of Dutch or Kaffir, and how was I to get food ordirection?

But when hope had departed, fear had gone as well. I formed a plan. Iwould find the Delagoa Bay Railway. Without map or compass I must followthat in spite of the pickets. I looked at the stars. Orion shonebrightly. Scarcely a year ago he had guided me when lost in the desertto the banks of the Nile. He had given me water. Now he should lead tofreedom. I could not endure the want of either. 

After walking south for half a mile, I struck the railroad. Was it theline to Delagoa Bay or the Pietersburg branch? If it were the former itshould run east. But so far as I could see this line ran northwards. Still, it might be only winding its way out among the hills. I resolvedto follow it. The night was delicious. A cool breeze fanned my face anda wild feeling of exhilaration took hold of me. At any rate, I was free, if only for an hour. That was something. The fascination of theadventure grew. Unless the stars in their courses fought for me I couldnot escape. Where, then, was the need of caution? I marched brisklyalong the line. Here and there the lights of a picket fire gleamed. Every bridge had its watchers. But I passed them all, making very shortdetours at the dangerous places, and really taking scarcely anyprecautions. Perhaps that was the reason I succeeded. 

As I walked I extended my plan. I could not march three hundred milesto the frontier. I would board a train in motion and hide under theseats, on the roof, on the couplings--anywhere. What train should Itake? The first, of course. After walking for two hours I perceived thesignal lights of a station. I left the line, and, circling round it, hidin the ditch by the track about 200 yards beyond it. I argued that thetrain would stop at the station and that it would not have got up toomuch speed by the time it reached me. An hour passed. I began to growimpatient. Suddenly I heard the whistle and the approaching rattle. Thenthe great yellow head lights of the engine flashed into view. The trainwaited five minutes at the station and started again with much noise andsteaming. I crouched by the track. I rehearsed the act in my mind. Imust wait until the engine had passed, otherwise I should be seen. ThenI must make a dash for the carriages. 

The train started slowly, but gathered speed sooner than I had expected. The flaring lights drew swiftly near. The rattle grew into a roar. Thedark mass hung for a second above me. The engine-driver silhouettedagainst his furnace glow, the black profile of the engine, the clouds ofsteam rushed past. Then I hurled myself on the trucks, clutched atsomething, missed, clutched again, missed again, grasped some sort ofhand-hold, was swung off my feet--my toes bumping on the line, and witha struggle seated myself on the couplings of the fifth truck from thefront of the train. It was a goods train, and the trucks were full ofsacks, soft sacks covered with coal dust. I crawled on top and burrowedin among them. In five minutes I was completely buried. The sacks werewarm and comfortable. Perhaps the engine-driver had seen me rush up tothe train and would give the alarm at the next station: on the otherhand, perhaps not. Where was the train going to? Where would it beunloaded? Would it be searched? Was it on the Delagoa Bay line? Whatshould I do in the morning? Ah, never mind that. Sufficient for the daywas the luck thereof. Fresh plans for fresh contingencies. I resolvedto sleep, nor can I imagine a more pleasing lullaby than the clatter ofthe train that carries you at twenty miles an hour away from the enemy'scapital. 

How long I slept I do not know, but I woke up suddenly with all feelingsof exhilaration gone, and only the consciousness of oppressivedifficulties heavy on me. I must leave the train before daybreak, sothat I could drink at a pool and find some hiding-place while it wasstill dark. Another night I would board another train. I crawled from mycosy hiding-place among the sacks and sat again on the couplings. Thetrain was running at a fair speed, but I felt it was time to leave it. Itook hold of the iron handle at the back of the truck, pulled stronglywith my left hand, and sprang. My feet struck the ground in two giganticstrides, and the next instant I was sprawling in the ditch, considerablyshaken but unhurt. The train, my faithful ally of the night, hurried onits journey. 

It was still dark. I was in the middle of a wide valley, surrounded bylow hills, and carpeted with high grass drenched in dew. I searched forwater in the nearest gully, and soon found a clear pool. I was verythirsty, but long after I had quenched my thirst I continued to drink, that I might have sufficient for the whole day. 

Presently the dawn began to break, and the sky to the east grew yellowand red, slashed across with heavy black clouds. I saw with relief thatthe railway ran steadily towards the sunrise. I had taken the rightline, after all. 

Having drunk my fill, I set out for the hills, among which I hoped tofind some hiding-place, and as it became broad daylight I entered asmall grove of trees which grew on the side of a deep ravine. Here Iresolved to wait till dusk. I had one consolation: no one in the worldknew where I was--I did not know myself. It was now four o'clock. Fourteen hours lay between me and the night. My impatience to proceed, while I was still strong, doubled their length. At first it was terriblycold, but by degrees the sun gained power, and by ten o'clock the heatwas oppressive. My sole companion was a gigantic vulture, who manifestedan extravagant interest in my condition, and made hideous and ominousgurglings from time to time. From my lofty position I commanded a viewof the whole valley. A little tin-roofed town lay three miles to thewestward. Scattered farmsteads, each with a clump of trees, relieved themonotony of the undulating ground. At the foot of the hill stood aKaffir kraal, and the figures of its inhabitants dotted the patches ofcultivation or surrounded the droves of goats and cows which fed on thepasture. The railway ran through the middle of the valley, and I couldwatch the passage of the various trains. I counted four passing eachway, and from this I drew the conclusion that the same number would runby night. I marked a steep gradient up which they climbed very slowly, and determined at nightfall to make another attempt to board one ofthese. During the day I ate one slab of chocolate, which, with the heat, produced a violent thirst. The pool was hardly half a mile away, but Idared not leave the shelter of the little wood, for I could see thefigures of white men riding or walking occasionally across the valley, and once a Boer came and fired two shots at birds close to myhiding-place. But no one discovered me. 

The elation and the excitement of the previous night had burnt away, anda chilling reaction followed. I was very hungry, for I had had no dinnerbefore starting, and chocolate, though it sustains, does not satisfy. Ihad scarcely slept, but yet my heart beat so fiercely and I was sonervous and perplexed about the future that I could not rest. I thoughtof all the chances that lay against me; I dreaded and detested more thanwords can express the prospect of being caught and dragged back toPretoria. I do not mean that I would rather have died than have beenretaken, but I have often feared death for much less. I found no comfortin any of the philosophical ideas which some men parade in their hoursof ease and strength and safety. They seemed only fair-weather friends. I realised with awful force that no exercise of my own feeble wit andstrength could save me from my enemies, and that without the assistanceof that High Power which interferes in the eternal sequence of causesand effects more often than we are always prone to admit, I could neversucceed. I prayed long and earnestly for help and guidance. My prayer, as it seems to me, was swiftly and wonderfully answered, I cannot nowrelate the strange circumstances which followed, and which changed mynearly hopeless position into one of superior advantage. But after thewar is over I shall hope to lengthen this account, and so remarkablewill the addition be that I cannot believe the reader will complain. 

The long day reached its close at last. The western clouds flushed intofire; the shadows of the hills stretched out across the valley. Aponderous Boer waggon, with its long team, crawled slowly along thetrack towards the town. The Kaffirs collected their herds and drewaround their kraal. The daylight died, and soon it was quite dark. Then, and not till then, I set forth, I hurried to the railway line, pausing on my way to drink at a stream of sweet, cold water. I waitedfor some time at the top of the steep gradient in the hope of catching atrain. But none came, and I gradually guessed, and I have since foundthat I guessed right, that the train I had already travelled in was theonly one that ran at night. At last I resolved to walk on, and make, atany rate, twenty miles of my journey. I walked for about six hours. Howfar I travelled I do not know, but I do not think that it was very manymiles in the direct line. Every bridge was guarded by armed men; everyfew miles were gangers' huts; at intervals there were stations withvillages clustering round them. All the veldt was bathed in the brightrays of the full moon, and to avoid these dangerous places I had to makewide circuits and often to creep along the ground. Leaving the railroadI fell into bogs and swamps, and brushed through high grass drippingwith dew, so that I was drenched to the waist. I had been able to takelittle exercise during my month's imprisonment, and I was soon tired outwith walking, as well as from want of food and sleep. I felt verymiserable when I looked around and saw here and there the lights ofhouses, and thought of the warmth and comfort within them, but knew thatthey only meant danger to me. After six or seven hours of walking Ithought it unwise to go further lest I should exhaust myself, so I laydown in a ditch to sleep. I was nearly at the end of my tether. Nevertheless, by the will of God, I was enabled to sustain myself duringthe next few days, obtaining food at great risk here and there, restingin concealment by day and walking only at night. On the fifth day I wasbeyond Middelburg, so far as I could tell, for I dared not inquire noras yet approach the stations near enough to read the names. In a securehiding-place I waited for a suitable train, knowing that there is athrough service between Middelburg and Lourenço Marques. 

Meanwhile there had been excitement in the States Model Schools, temporarily converted into a military prison. Early on Wednesdaymorning--barely twelve hours after I had escaped--my absence wasdiscovered--I think by Dr. Gunning. The alarm was given. Telegrams withmy description at great length were despatched along all the railways. Three thousand photographs were printed. A warrant was issued for myimmediate arrest. Every train was strictly searched. Everyone was on thewatch. The worthy Boshof, who knew my face well, was hurried off toKomati Poort to examine all and sundry people "with red hair" travellingtowards the frontier. The newspapers made so much of the affair that myhumble fortunes and my whereabouts were discussed in long columns ofprint, and even in the crash of the war I became to the Boers a topicall to myself. The rumours in part amused me. It was certain, said the"Standard and Diggers' News, " that I had escaped disguised as a woman. The next day I was reported captured at Komati Poort dressed as aTransvaal policeman. There was great delight at this, which was onlychanged to doubt when other telegrams said that I had been arrested atBrugsbank, at Middelburg, and at Bronkerspruit. But the captives provedto be harmless people after all. Finally it was agreed that I had neverleft Pretoria. I had--it appeared--changed clothes with a waiter, andwas now in hiding at the house of some British sympathiser in thecapital. On the strength of this all the houses of suspected personswere searched from top to bottom, and these unfortunate people were, Ifear, put to a great deal of inconvenience. A special commission wasalso appointed to investigate 'stringently' (a most hateful adjective insuch a connection) the causes 'which had rendered it possible for theWar Correspondent of the "Morning Post" to escape. '

The 'Volksstem' noticed as a significant fact that I had recently becomea subscriber to the State Library, and had selected Mill's essay 'OnLiberty. ' It apparently desired to gravely deprecate prisoners havingaccess to such inflammatory literature. The idea will, perhaps, amusethose who have read the work in question. 

I find it very difficult in the face of the extraordinary efforts whichwere made to recapture me, to believe that the Transvaal Governmentseriously contemplated my release _before_ they knew I had escaped them. Yet a telegram was swiftly despatched from Pretoria to all thenewspapers, setting forth the terms of a most admirable letter, in whichGeneral Joubert explained the grounds which prompted him generously torestore my liberty. I am inclined to think that the Boers hate beingbeaten even in the smallest things, and always fight on the win, tie, orwrangle principle; but in my case I rejoice I am not beholden to them, and have not thus been disqualified from fighting. 

All these things may provoke a smile of indifference, perhaps even oftriumph, after the danger is past; but during the days when I was lyingup in holes and corners, waiting for a good chance to board a train, thecauses that had led to them preyed more than I knew on my nerves. To bean outcast, to be hunted, to lie under a warrant for arrest, to fearevery man, to have imprisonment--not necessarily military confinementeither--hanging overhead, to fly the light, to doubt the shadows--allthese things ate into my soul and have left an impression that will notperhaps be easily effaced. 

On the sixth day the chance I had patiently waited for came. I found aconvenient train duly labelled to Lourenço Marques standing in a siding. I withdrew to a suitable spot for boarding it--for I dared not make theattempt in the station--and, filling a bottle with water to drink on theway, I prepared for the last stage of my journey. 

The truck in which I ensconced myself was laden with great sacks of somesoft merchandise, and I found among them holes and crevices by means ofwhich I managed to work my way to the inmost recess. The hard floor waslittered with gritty coal dust, and made a most uncomfortable bed. Theheat was almost stifling. I was resolved, however, that nothing shouldlure or compel me from my hiding-place until I reached Portugueseterritory. I expected the journey to take thirty-six hours; it draggedout into two and a half days. I hardly dared sleep for fear of snoring. 

I dreaded lest the trucks should be searched at Komati Poort, and myanxiety as the train approached this neighbourhood was very great. Toprolong it we were shunted on to a siding for eighteen hours either atKomati Poort or the station beyond it. Once indeed they began to searchmy truck, and I heard the tarpaulin rustle as they pulled at it, butluckily they did not search deep enough, so that, providentiallyprotected, I reached Delagoa Bay at last, and crawled forth from myplace of refuge and of punishment, weary, dirty, hungry, but free oncemore. 

Thereafter everything smiled. I found my way to the British Consul, Mr. Ross, who at first mistook me for a fireman off one of the ships in theharbour, but soon welcomed me with enthusiasm. I bought clothes, Iwashed, I sat down to dinner with a real tablecloth and real glasses;and fortune, determined not to overlook the smallest detail, hadarranged that the steamer 'Induna' should leave that very night forDurban. As soon as the news of my arrival spread about the town, Ireceived many offers of assistance from the English residents, and lestany of the Boer agents with whom Lourenço Marques is infested shouldattempt to recapture me in neutral territory, nearly a dozen gentlemenescorted me to the steamer armed with revolvers. It is from the cabin ofthis little vessel, as she coasts along the sandy shores of Africa, thatI write the concluding lines of this letter, and the reader who maypersevere through this hurried account will perhaps understand why Iwrite them with a feeling of triumph, and better than triumph, a feelingof pure joy. 

CHAPTER XII

BACK TO THE BRITISH LINES

Frere: December 24, 1899. 

The voyage of the "Induna" from Delagoa Bay to Durban was speedy andprosperous, and on the afternoon of the 23rd we approached our port, andsaw the bold headland that shields it rising above the horizon to thesouthward. An hour's steaming brought us to the roads. More than twentygreat transports and supply vessels lay at anchor, while three others, crowded from end to end with soldiery, circled impatiently as theywaited for pilots to take them into the harbour. Our small vessel wasnot long in reaching the jetty, and I perceived that a very considerablecrowd had gathered to receive us. But it was not until I stepped onshore that I realised that I was myself the object of this honourablewelcome. I will not chronicle the details of what followed. It issufficient to say that many hundreds of the people of Durban tookoccasion to express their joy at my tiny pinch of triumph over theBoers, and that their enthusiasm was another sincere demonstration oftheir devotion to the Imperial cause, and their resolve to carry the warto an indisputable conclusion. After an hour of turmoil, which I franklyadmit I enjoyed extremely, I escaped to the train, and the journey toPietermaritzburg passed very quickly in the absorbing occupation ofdevouring a month's newpapers and clearing my palate from the evil tasteof the exaggerations of Pretoria by a liberal antidote of our ownversions. I rested a day at Government House, and enjoyed longconversations with Sir Walter Hely-Hutchinson--the Governor under whosewise administration Natal has become the most patriotic province of theEmpire. Moreover, I was fortunate in meeting Colonel Hime, the PrimeMinister of the Colony, a tall, grey, keen-eyed man, who talked only ofthe importance of fighting this quarrel out to the end, and of theobstinate determination of the people he represented to stand by theQueen's Government through all the changing moods of fortune. I receivedthen and have since been receiving a great number of telegrams andmessages from all kinds of people and from all countries of the earth. One gentleman invited me to shoot with him in Central Asia. Anotherfavoured me with a poem which he had written in my honour, and desiredme to have it set to music and published. A third--an American--wantedme to plan a raid into Transvaal territory along the Delagoa Bay line toarm the prisoners and seize the President. Five Liberal Electors of theborough of Oldham wrote to say that they would give me their votes on afuture occasion 'irrespective of politics. ' Young ladies sent me woollencomforters. Old ladies forwarded their photographs; and hundreds ofpeople wrote kind letters, many of which in the stir of events I havenot yet been able to answer. 

[Illustration: Map of THE THEATRE OF THE OPERATIONS IN NATAL]

The correspondence varied vastly in tone as well as in character, and Icannot help quoting a couple of telegrams as specimens. The first wasfrom a worthy gentleman who, besides being a substantial farmer, is alsoa member of the Natal Parliament. He wrote: 'My heartiestcongratulations on your wonderful and glorious deeds, which will sendsuch a thrill of pride and enthusiasm through Great Britain and theUnited States of America, that the Anglo-Saxon race will beirresistible. '

The intention of the other, although his message was shorter, wasequally plain. 

'_London, December 30th_. --Best friends here hope you won't go makingfurther ass of yourself. --M'NEILL. '

This shows, I think, how widely human judgment may differ even in regardto ascertained facts. 

I found time to visit the hospitals--long barracks which before the warwere full of healthy men, and are now crammed with sick and wounded. Everything seemed beautifully arranged, and what money could buy andcare provide was at the service of those who had sustained hurt in thepublic contention. But for all that I left with a feeling of relief. Grim sights and grimmer suggestions were at every corner. Beneath averandah a dozen wounded officers, profusely swathed in bandages, clustered in a silent brooding group. Nurses waited quietly by shutdoors that none might disturb more serious cases. Doctors hurried withsolemn faces from one building to another. Here and there men pushedstretchers on rubber-tyred wheels about the paths, stretchers on whichmotionless forms lay shrouded in blankets. One, concerning whom I asked, had just had part of his skull trepanned: another had sufferedamputation. And all this pruning and patching up of broken men to winthem a few more years of crippled life caught one's throat like thepenetrating smell of the iodoform. Nor was I sorry to hasten away by thenight mail northwards to the camps. It was still dark as we passedEstcourt, but morning had broken when the train reached Frere, and Igot out and walked along the line inquiring for my tent, and found itpitched by the side of the very same cutting down which I had fled formy life from the Boer marksmen, and only fifty yards from the spot onwhich I had surrendered myself prisoner. So after much trouble andadventure I came safely home again to the wars. Six weeks had passedsince the armoured train had been destroyed. Many changes had takenplace. The hills which I had last seen black with the figures of theBoer riflemen were crowned with British pickets. The valley in which wehad lain exposed to their artillery fire was crowded with the whitetents of a numerous army. In the hollows and on the middle slopes canvasvillages gleamed like patches of snowdrops. The iron bridge across theBlue Krantz River lay in a tangle of crimson-painted wreckage across thebottom of the ravine, and the railway ran over an unpretentious butsubstantial wooden structure. All along the line near the station freshsidings had been built, and many trains concerned in the business ofsupply occupied them. When I had last looked on the landscape it meantfierce and overpowering danger, with the enemy on all sides. Now I wasin the midst of a friendly host. But though much was altered some thingsremained the same. The Boers still held Colenso. Their forces stilloccupied the free soil of Natal. It was true that thousands of troopshad arrived to make all efforts to change the situation. It was truethat the British Army had even advanced ten miles. But Ladysmith wasstill locked in the strong grip of the invader, and as I listened Iheard the distant booming of the same bombardment which I had heard twomonths before, and which all the time I was wandering had beenremorselessly maintained and patiently borne. 

Looking backward over the events of the last two months, it isimpossible not to admire the Boer strategy. From the beginning they haveaimed at two main objects: to exclude the war from their ownterritories, and to confine it to rocky and broken regions suited totheir tactics. Up to the present time they have been entirelysuccessful. Though the line of advance northwards through the FreeState lay through flat open country, and they could spare few men toguard it, no British force has assailed this weak point. The 'farmers'have selected their own ground and compelled the generals to fight themon it. No part of the earth's surface is better adapted to Boer tacticsthan Northern Natal, yet observe how we have been gradually but steadilydrawn into it, until the mountains have swallowed up the greater part ofthe whole Army Corps. By degrees we have learned the power of ouradversary. Before the war began men said: 'Let them come into Natal andattack us if they dare. They would go back quicker than they wouldcome. ' So the Boers came and fierce fighting took place, but it was theBritish who retired. Then it was said: 'Never mind. The forces were notconcentrated. Now that all the Natal Field Force is massed at Ladysmith, there will be no mistake. ' But still, in spite of Elandslaagte, concerning which the President remarked: 'The foolhardy shall bepunished, ' the Dutch advance continued. The concentrated Ladysmithforce, twenty squadrons, six batteries, and eleven battalions, salliedout to meet them. The Staff said: 'By to-morrow night there will not bea Boer within twenty miles of Ladysmith. ' But by the evening of October30 the whole of Sir George White's command had been flung back into thetown with three hundred men killed and wounded, and nearly a thousandprisoners. Then every one said: 'But now we have touched bottom. TheLadysmith position is the _ne plus ultra_. So far they have gone; but nofurther!' Then it appeared that the Boers were reaching out round theflanks. What was their design? To blockade Ladysmith? Ridiculous andimpossible! However, send a battalion to Colenso to keep thecommunications open, and make assurance doubly sure. So the DublinFusiliers were railed southwards, and entrenched themselves at Colenso. Two days later the Boers cut the railway south of Ladysmith at Pieters, shelled the small garrison out of Colenso, shut and locked the gate onthe Ladysmith force, and established themselves in the almostimpregnable positions north of the Tugela. Still there was norealisation of the meaning of the investment. It would last a week, theysaid, and all the clever correspondents laughed at the veteran BennetBurleigh for his hurry to get south before the door was shut. Only aweek of isolation! Two months have passed. But all the time we havesaid: 'Never mind; wait till our army comes. We will soon put a stop tothe siege--for it soon became more than a blockade--of Ladysmith. '

Then the army began to come. Its commander, knowing the disadvantageousnature of the country, would have preferred to strike northwards throughthe Free State and relieve Ladysmith at Bloemfontein. But the pressurefrom home was strong. First two brigades, then four, the artillery oftwo divisions, and a large mounted force were diverted from the CapeColony and drawn into Natal. Finally, Sir Redvers Buller had to followthe bulk of his army. Then the action of Colenso was fought, and inthat unsatisfactory engagement the British leaders learned that theblockade of Ladysmith was no unstable curtain that could be brushedaside, but a solid wall. Another division is hurried to the mountains, battery follows battery, until at the present moment the South NatalField Force numbers two cavalry and six infantry brigades, and nearlysixty guns. It is with this force that we hope to break through thelines of Boers who surround Ladysmith. The army is numerous, powerful, and high-spirited. But the task before it is one which no man can regardwithout serious misgivings. 

Whoever selected Ladysmith as a military centre must sleep uneasily atnights. I remember hearing the question of a possible war with the Boersdiscussed by several officers of high rank. The general impression wasthat Ladysmith was a tremendous strategic position, which dominated thelines of approach both into the Transvaal and the Orange Free State, whereas of course it does nothing of the sort. The fact that it standsat the junction of the railways may have encouraged the belief, butboth lines of advance are barred by a broken and tangled countryabounding in positions of extraordinary strength. Tactically Ladysmithmay be strongly defensible, politically it has become invested with muchimportance, but for strategic purposes it is absolutely worthless. It isworse. It is a regular trap. The town and cantonment stand in a hugecircle of hills which enclasp it on all sides like the arms of a giant, and though so great is the circle that only guns of the heavier classcan reach the town from the heights, once an enemy has establishedhimself on these heights it is beyond the power of the garrison todislodge him, or perhaps even to break out. Not only do the surroundinghills keep the garrison in, but they also form a formidable barrier tothe advance of a relieving force. Thus it is that the ten thousandtroops in Ladysmith are at this moment actually an encumbrance. Toextricate them--I write advisedly, to endeavour to extricatethem--brigades and divisions must be diverted from all the other easylines of advance, and Sir Redvers Buller, who had always deprecated anyattempt to hold Natal north of the Tugela, is compelled to attack theenemy on their own terms and their own ground. 

What are those terms? The northern side of the Tugela River at nearlyevery point commands the southern bank. Ranges of high hills strewn withboulders and dotted with trees rise abruptly from the water, forming amighty rampart for the enemy. Before this the river, a broad torrentwith few and narrow fords and often precipitous banks, flows rapidly--agreat moat. And before the river again, on our side stretches a smooth, undulating, grassy country--a regular glacis. To defend the rampart andsweep the glacis are gathered, according to my information derived inPretoria, twelve thousand, according to the Intelligence Branch fifteenthousand, of the best riflemen in the world armed with beautifulmagazine rifles, supplied with an inexhaustible store of ammunition, andsupported by fifteen or twenty excellent quick-firing guns, allartfully entrenched and concealed. The drifts of the river across whichour columns must force their way are all surrounded with trenches andrifle pits, from which a converging fire may be directed, and the actualbottom of the river is doubtless obstructed by entanglements of barbedwire and other devices. But when all these difficulties have beenovercome the task is by no means finished. Nearly twenty miles of brokencountry, ridge rising beyond ridge, kopje above kopje, all probablyalready prepared for defence, intervene between the relieving army andthe besieged garrison. 

Such is the situation, and so serious are the dangers and difficultiesthat I have heard it said in the camp that on strict military groundsLadysmith should be left to its fate; that a division should remain tohold this fine open country south of the Tugela and protect Natal; andthat the rest should be hurried off to the true line of advance into theFree State from the south. Though I recognise all this, and do not denyits force, I rejoice that what is perhaps a strategically unwisedecision has been taken. It is not possible to abandon a brave garrisonwithout striking a blow to rescue them. The attempt will cost severalthousand lives; and may even fail; but it must be made on the grounds ofhonour, if not on those of policy. 

We are going to try almost immediately, for there is no time to be lost. 'The sands, ' to quote Mr. Chamberlain on another subject, 'are runningdown in the glass. ' Ladysmith has stood two months' siege andbombardment. Food and ammunition stores are dwindling. Disease is dailyincreasing. The strain on the garrison has been, in spite of their pluckand stamina, a severe one. How long can they hold out? It is difficultto say precisely, because after the ordinary rations are exhausteddetermined men will eat horses and rats and beetles, and such like oddsand ends, and so continue the defence. But another month must be thelimit of their endurance, and then if no help comes Sir George Whitewill have to fire off all his ammunition, blow up his heavy guns, burnwaggons and equipment, and sally out with his whole force in a fierceendeavour to escape southwards. Perhaps half the garrison might succeedin reaching our lines, but the rest, less the killed and wounded, wouldbe sent to occupy the new camp at Waterfall, which has been already laidout--such is the intelligent anticipation of the enemy--for theiraccommodation. So we are going to try to force the Tugela within theweek, and I dare say my next letter will give you some account of ourfortunes. 

Meanwhile all is very quiet in the camps. From Chieveley, where thereare two brigades of infantry, a thousand horse of sorts, including the13th Hussars, and a dozen naval guns, it is quite possible to see theBoer positions, and the outposts live within range of each other'srifles. Yesterday I rode out to watch the evening bombardment which wemake on their entrenchments with the naval 4. 7-inch guns. From the lowhill on which the battery is established the whole scene is laid bare. The Boer lines run in a great crescent along the hills. Tier above tierof trenches have been scored along their sides, and the brown streaksrun across the grass of the open country south of the river. After teain the captain's cabin--I should say tent--Commander Limpus of the'Terrible' kindly invited me to look through the telescope and mark thefall of the shots. 

The glass was one of great power, and I could plainly see the figures ofthe Boers walking about in twos and threes, sitting on the embankments, or shovelling away to heighten them. We selected one particular groupnear a kraal, the range of which had been carefully noted, and the greatguns were slowly brought to bear on the unsuspecting target. I lookedthrough the spy-hole at the tiny picture--three dirty beehives for thekraal, a long breastwork of newly thrown up earth, six or sevenminiature men gathered into a little bunch, two others skylarking on thegrass behind the trench, apparently engaged in a boxing match. Then Iturned to the guns. A naval officer craned along the seventeen-feetbarrel, peering through the telescopic sights. Another was pencillingsome calculations as to wind and light and other intricate details. Thecrew, attentive, stood around. At last all was done. I looked back tothe enemy. The group was still intact. The boxers were stillplaying--one had pushed the other down. A solitary horseman had alsocome into the picture and was riding slowly across. The desire of murderrose in my heart. Now for a bag! Bang! I jumped at least a foot, disarranging the telescope, but there was plenty of time to reset itwhile the shell was hissing and roaring its way through nearly fivemiles of air. I found the kraal again and the group still there, but allmotionless and alert, like startled rabbits. Then they began to bob intothe earth, one after the other. Suddenly, in the middle of the kraal, there appeared a huge flash, a billowy ball of smoke, and clouds ofdust. Bang! I jumped again; the second gun had fired. But before thisshell could reach the trenches a dozen little figures scampered away, scattering in all directions. Evidently the first had not been withouteffect. Yet when I turned the glass to another part of the defences theBoers were working away stolidly, and only those near the explosionshowed any signs of disturbance. 

The bombardment continued for half an hour, the shells being flungsometimes into the trenches, sometimes among the houses of Colenso, andalways directed with marvellous accuracy. At last the guns were coveredup again in their tarpaulins, the crowd of military spectators broke upand dispersed amid the tents, and soon it became night. 

CHAPTER XIII

CHRISTMAS AND NEW YEAR

Frere: January 4, 1900. 

December 25. --Christmas Day! 'Glory to God in the Highest, and on earth, peace and goodwill towards men. ' So no great shells were fired into theBoer entrenchments at dawn, and the hostile camps remained tranquilthroughout the day. Even the pickets forbore to snipe each other, andboth armies attended divine service in the morning and implored Heaven'sblessing on their righteous causes. In the afternoon the British heldathletic sports, an impromptu military tournament, and a gymkhana, allof which caused much merriment and diversion, and the Boers profited bythe cessation of the shell fire to shovel away at their trenches. In theevening there were Christmas dinners in our camp--roast beef, plumpudding, a quart of beer for everyone, and various smoking concertsafterwards. I cannot describe the enemy's festivities. 

But since that peaceful day we have had desultory picket firing, and thegreat guns in the naval battery have spoken whenever an opportunitypresented itself. The opposing outpost lines are drawn so far apart thatwith the best intentions they can scarcely harm each other. But the longrange of the smallbore rifles encourages fancy shooting, so that thereis often a brisk fusillade and no one any the worse. On our side we haveonly had one infantry soldier wounded. We do not know what the fortunesof the Boers may have been, but it is probable that they lose a few menevery day from the bombardment, and certain that on Monday last therewere three burghers killed and several wounded and one horse. Ithappened in this wise: beyond the strong Infantry pickets which remainin position always, there is a more or less extended line of cavalryoutposts, which are sprinkled all along the kopjes to the east and westof the camp, and are sometimes nearly three miles from it. On the Mondayin question--New Year's Day to wit--200 Boers set forth and attacked ourpicket on the extreme right. The picket, which was composed of the SouthAfrican Light Horse, fell back with discretion, and the Boers followingwithout their usual caution did not observe that eight troopers had beendropped behind among the rocks and ledges of a donga; so that whentwelve of them attempted to make their way up this natural zigzagapproach in order to fire upon the retiring picket they were themselvesreceived at 400 yards by a well-directed sputter of musketry, and wereglad to make off with five riderless horses, two men upon one horse, andleaving three lying quite still on the ground. Thereafter the picketcontinued to retreat unmolested. 

Indeed, the New Year opened well, and many little things seem to favourthe hope that it is the turning point of the war. Besides our tinyskirmish on the right, Captain Gough, of the 16th Lancers, on the left, made his way along a convenient depression, almost to the river bank, and discovered Boers having tea in their camp at scarcely 1, 800 yards. Forthwith he opened fire, causing great commotion; hurried upsetting ofthe tea, scrambling into tents for rifle, 'confounded impudence of thesecursed rooineks! Come quickly Hans, Pieter, O'Brien, and John Smith, andlet us mend their manners. What do they mean by harassing us?' And in avery few minutes there was a wrathful rattle of firing all along thetrenches on the hillside, which spread far away to the right and left asother Boers heard it. What the deuce is this? Another attack! Till atlast the Maxim shell gun caught the infection, and began pom, pom, pom!pom, pom, pom! and so on at intervals. Evidently much angry passion wasaroused in the Boer camp, and all because Captain Gough had been tryinghis luck at long range volleys. The situation might have become serious;the event was, however, fortunate. No smoke betrayed the position of thescouting party; no bullets found them. A heavy shower of metal sang andwhistled at random in the air. The donga afforded an excellent line ofretreat, and when the adventurous patrol had retired safely into thecamp they were amused to hear the Boers still busy with the supposedchastisement of their audacious assailants. 

But these are small incidents which, though they break the monotony ofthe camp, do not alter nor, each by itself, greatly accelerate thecourse of the war. Good news came in on New Year's Day from otherquarters. Near Belmont the Canadians and Queenslanders fell on a raidingor reckless commando, took them on at their own game, hunted them andshot them among the rocks until the white flag was upon the right sidefor once and hoisted in honest surrender. Forty prisoners and twentydead and wounded; excellent news to all of us; but causing amazing joyin Natal, where every colonist goes into an ecstacy over every crumb ofBritish success. 

Moreover, we have good news from East London. General Gatacre isstolidly and patiently repairing the opening misfortune of hiscampaign: has learned by experience much of the new conditions of thewar. Strange that the Boers did not advance after their victory;stranger still that they retired from Dordrecht. Never mind whethertheir stillness be due to national cautiousness or good defensivearrangements. Since they don't want Dordrecht, let us go there; andthere we go accordingly. Out of this there arises on New Year's Day asuccessful skirmish, in the account of which the name of De Montmorencyis mentioned. In Egypt the name was associated with madcap courage. Herethey talk of prudent skill. The double reputation should be valuable. 

And, perhaps, the best news of all comes from Arundel, near Colesberg, where Generals French and Brabazon with the cavalry column--for it isnearly all mounted--are gradually sidling and coaxing the Boers back outof the Colony. They are a powerful combination: French's distinguishedmilitary talents, and Brabazon's long and deep experience of war. So, with this column there are no frontal attacks--perhaps they are luckierthan we in respect of ground--no glorious victories (which the enemycall victories, too); very few people hurt and a steady advance, as wehear on the first day of the year, right up to Colesberg. 

Perhaps the tide of war has really begun to turn. Perhaps 1900 is tomark the beginning of a century of good luck and good sense in Britishpolicy in Africa. When I was a prisoner at Pretoria the Boers showed mea large green pamphlet Mr. Reitz had written. It was intended to be anaccount of the Dutch grounds of quarrel with the English, and was called'A Century of Wrong. ' Much was distortion and exaggeration, but aconsiderable part dealt with acknowledged facts. Wrong in plenty therehas been on both sides, but latterly more on theirs than on ours; andthe result is war--bitter, bloody war tearing the land in twain;dividing brother from brother, friend from friend, and opening aterrible chasm between the two white races who must live side by side aslong as South Africa stands above the ocean, and by whose friendlyco-operation alone it can enjoy the fullest measure of prosperity. 'Acentury of wrong!' British ignorance of South Africa, Boer ignorance ofcivilisation, British intolerance, Boer brutality, British interference, Boer independence, clash, clash, clash, all along the line! and thenfanatical, truth-scorning missionaries, experimental philanthropists, high-handed jingo administrators, colonial ministers who disliked allcolonies on the glorious principles of theoretic liberalism, badgenerals thinking of their own reputations, not of their country'ssuccess, and a series of miserable events recalled sufficiently well bytheir names--Slagter's Nek, Kimberley, Moshesh, Majuba, Jameson, allthese arousing first resentment, then loathing, then contempt, and, finally, a Great Desire, crystallising into a Great Conspiracy for aUnited Dutch South Africa, free from the flag that has elsewhere beenregarded as the flag of freedom. And so inevitably to war--war withpeculiar sadness and horror, in which the line of cleavage springsbetween all sorts of well-meaning people that used to know one anotherin friendship; but war which, whatever its fortunes, certainly sweepsthe past into obscurity. We have done with 'a century of wrong. ' Godsend us now 'a century of right. '

CHAPTER XIV

A MILITARY DEMONSTRATION AND SOME GOOD NEWS

Chieveley: January 8, 1900. 

BOOM. Thud, thud. Boom. Boom. Thud--thud thud--thud thud thudthud--boom. A long succession of queer moaning vibrations broke thestillness of the sleeping camp. I became suddenly awake. It was twoo'clock on the morning of January 6. The full significance of the soundscame with consciousness. We had all heard them before--heavy cannonadingat Ladysmith. They were at it again. How much longer would the heroicgarrison be persecuted?

I turned to rest once more. But the distant guns forbade sleep. Thereports grew momentarily more frequent, until at last they merged intoone general roar. This was new. Never before had we heard suchbombarding. Louder and louder swelled the cannonade, and presently thedeep note of the heavy artillery could scarcely be distinguished abovethe incessant discharges of field pieces. So I lay and listened. Whatwas happening eighteen miles away over the hills? Another bayonet attackby the garrison? Or perhaps a general sortie: or perhaps, but thisseemed scarcely conceivable, the Boers had hardened their hearts andwere delivering the long expected, long threatened assault. 

An officer came to my tent with the daylight. Something big happening atLadysmith--hell of a cannonade--never heard anything like it--worse thanColenso--what do you think of it? But I was without opinion; nor did Ifind anyone anxious to pronounce. Meanwhile the firing was maintained, and we breakfasted to its accompaniment. Until half-past ten there wasnot the slightest diminution or intermission. As the day advanced, however, it gradually died away, showing either that the fight was over, or, as it afterwards turned out, that it had passed into the hands ofriflemen. 

We all spent an anxious morning speculating on the reason and result ofthe engagement. About noon there arrived an unofficial message byheliograph, which the young officer at the signal station confided tohis friends. It was brief. 'General attack all sides byBoers--everywhere repulsed--but fight still going on. '

At one o'clock, just as were sitting down to luncheon, came an orderlyat full gallop with the order for the whole force in Chieveley to turnout at once. Whereat the camp, till then dormant under the midday sun, sprang to life like a disturbed ant-hill. Some said we were about tomake a regular attack on Colenso, while many of the covering army ofBoers were busy at Ladysmith. Others suggested a night assault--with thebayonet. The idea was very pleasant to the hearts of the infantry. But Isoon learned that no serious operation was in contemplation, and thatthe force was merely to make a demonstration before Colenso with theobject of bringing some of the Boers back from Ladysmith, and of sorelieving the pressure on Sir George White. 

The demonstration was, however, a very imposing affair. First of all themounted forces threw out a long fringe of patrols all along the front. Behind this the squadrons made a line of black bars. The mountedinfantry, Bethune's Horse, and the Natal Carabineers formed the left:the South African Light Horse the centre, and the 13th Hussars andThorneycroft's Mounted Infantry twisted back to watch the right. Behindthis curtain marched the infantry, Hildyard's brigade on the right, Barton's on the left, line after line of brown men ten yards apart, twohundred yards between the lines, spreading in this open formation over awide expanse of country, and looking a mighty swarm. Behind these againdark blocks of artillery and waggons moved slowly forward. Behind, andabove all, the naval battery began to throw its shells into the village. 

The cavalry soon cleared the front, the squadrons wheeled about, thepatrols retreated. The South African Light Horse, with whom I now havethe honour to serve, were stationed in rear of Gun Hill, a rockyeminence so called because a heavy battery was placed there in the lastengagement. From this feature an excellent view of the operation wasafforded, and thence we watched the whole development. 

Sir Francis Clery, General Hildyard, and their respective Staffs hadalso taken their position on Gun Hill, so that its crest was thicklycrowded with figures peering exhaustively through field glasses andtelescopes. The infantry, who were now moving steadily forward, wereliterally sprinkled all over the country. 

In the text-books compiled from the results of past experience themilitary student reads that armies divide to march and concentrate tofight. 'Nous avons changé tout cela. ' Here we concentrate to march anddisperse to fight. I asked General Hildyard what formation his brigadewas in. He replied, 'Formation for taking advantage of ant-heaps. ' Thisis a valuable addition to the infantry drill. 

Meanwhile the demonstration was in progress, and not without effect. Only the well-informed realised that it was a demonstration, and theprivates, as they walked phlegmatically on, did not know that they werenot about to be plunged into another deluge of fire. 

'You watch it, Bill, ' I heard one man remark, 'we'll have that ----laughing hyena' (the Vickers-Maxim gun) 'let off at us in a minute. '

The Boers, too, seemed to be deceived, or, at any rate, doubtful, for wecould see them in twos and threes, and presently in fives and sixes, galloping into their trenches, which were evidently deep enough toshelter horse and man. It was most probable that larger bodies hadalready begun their countermarch from Ladysmith. We were not wasting ourtime or our trouble. 

The infantry halted about three thousand yards from the enemy'sposition, and the artillery, which numbered fourteen guns, trottedforward and came into action. All these movements, which had been verydeliberately made, had taken a long time, and it was now nearly fiveo'clock. Dark thunder-clouds and a drizzle of rain descended on thesilent Boer position, and the range of hills along which it stretchedlay in deep shadow as if under the frown of Heaven. Our batteries alsowere ranged in this gloomy zone, but with the reserves and on the hillwhence we were watching there was bright sunlight. 

The bombardment and the storm broke over the Boer entrenchmentssimultaneously. A swift succession of fierce red flashes stabbed outfrom the patches of gunners, teams, and waggons, and with yellow gleamssoft white balls of smoke appeared among the houses of Colenso and abovethe belts of scrub which extend on either side. The noise of explosionsof gun and projectile came back to us on the hill in regular order, andabove them rang the startling discharges of the 4. 7-inch naval guns, whose shells in bursting raised huge brown dust clouds from houses, trench, or hillside. At the same time the thunder began to rumble, andvivid streaks of blue light scarred the sombre hills. We watched theimpressive spectacle in safety and the sunlight. 

Besides creating a diversion in favour of Ladysmith the object of ourdemonstration was to make the enemy reveal his position and especiallythe positions of his guns. In this latter respect, however, we weredefeated. Though they must have suffered some loss and more annoyancefrom the bombardment, and though much of the infantry was well withinthe range of their guns, the Boers declined to be drawn, and during twohours' shelling they did not condescend to give a single shot in reply. It needs a patient man to beat a Dutchman at waiting. So about seveno'clock we gave up trying. 

It had been intended to leave the troops on the enemy's front untilnight and withdraw them after dark, the idea being to make him anxiouslest a night attack should be designed. But as some of the battalionshad turned out without having their dinners, Sir Francis Clery decidednot to keep them under arms longer, and the whole force withdrewgracefully and solemnly to camp. 

Here we found news from Ladysmith. 'Enemy everywhere repulsed for thepresent. ' For the present! Hold on only a little longer, gallantgarrison, and if it be in the power of 25, 000 British soldiers to helpyou, your troubles and privations shall soon be ended--and what a dinnerwe will have together then!

That night we tried to congratulate or encourage Ladysmith, and thesearchlight perseveringly flashed the Morse code on the clouds. Butbefore it had been working half an hour the Boer searchlight saw it andhurried to interfere, flickering, blinking, and crossing to try toconfuse the dots and dashes, and appeared to us who watched this curiousaerial battle--Briton and Boer fighting each other in the sky withvibrations of ether--to confuse them very effectually. 

Next morning, however, the sun came out for uncertain periods, andLadysmith was able to tell her own story briefly and jerkily, but stilla very satisfactory account. 

At two o'clock, according to Sir George White, the Boers in greatnumbers, evidently reinforced from Colenso, surprised the pickets andbegan a general attack on the outpost line round the town, particularlydirecting their efforts on Cĉsar's Camp and Waggon Hill. The fightingbecame very close, and the enemy, who had after all hardened theirhearts, pushed the attack with extraordinary daring and vigour. Some ofthe trenches on Waggon Hill were actually taken three times by theassailants. But every time General Hamilton--the skilful Hamilton as hehas been called--flung them out again by counterattacks. At one place, indeed, they succeeded in holding on all day, nor was it until the duskof the evening, when the rain and thunderstorm which we saw hanging overColenso broke on Ladysmith, that Colonel Park led forth the DevonRegiment--who, having had half their officers killed or wounded by ashell some days before, were probably spiteful--and drove the Dutchmenhelter skelter at the point of the bayonet. So that by night the Boerswere repulsed at every point, with necessarily great slaughter, greaterat any rate than on our side. Their first experience of assaulting!Encore!

Battles now-a-days are fought mainly with firearms, but no troops, however brave, however well directed, can enjoy the full advantage oftheir successes if they exclude the possibilities of cold steel and arenot prepared to maintain what they have won, if necessary with theirfists. The moral strength of an army which welcomes the closest personalencounter must exceed that of an army which depends for its victoriesonly on being able to kill its foes at a distance. The bayonet is themost powerful weapon we possess out here. Firearms kill many of theenemy, but it is the white weapon that makes them run away. Rifles caninflict the loss, but victory depends, for us at least, on the bayonets. 

Of the losses we as yet know nothing, except that Lord Ava is seriouslywounded, a sad item for which the only consolation is that the Empire isworth the blood of its noblest citizens. But for the general result werejoice. Ladysmith, too, is proud and happy. Only ten thousand of us, and look what we do! A little reproachfully, perhaps; for it is dullwork fighting week after week without alcohol or green vegetables. 

Well, it looks as if their trials were very nearly over. Sir CharlesWarren's Division marches to Frere to-day. All the hospitals have beencleared ready for those who may need them. If all's well we shall haveremoved the grounds of reproach by this day week. The long intervalbetween the acts has come to an end. The warning bell has rung. Takeyour seats, ladies and gentlemen. The curtain is about to rise. 

'High time, too, ' say the impatient audience, and with this I mustagree; for, looking from my tent as I write, I can see the smoke-puffbulging on Bulwana Hill as 'Long Tom' toils through his seventy-secondday of bombardment, and the white wisp seems to beckon the relievingarmy onward. 

CHAPTER XV

THE DASH FOR POTGIETER'S FERRY

Spearman's Hill: January 13, 1900. 

Secrets usually leak out in a camp, no matter how many people areemployed to keep them. For two days before January 10 rumours of animpending move circulated freely. There are, moreover, certain signs bywhich anyone who is acquainted with the under machinery of an army cantell when operations are imminent. On the 6th we heard that orders hadbeen given to clear the Pietermaritzburg hospitals of all patients, evidently because new inmates were expected. On the 7th it was reportedthat the hospitals were all clear. On the 8th an ambulance train emptiedthe field hospitals at Frere, and that same evening there arrived sevenhundred civilian stretcher-bearers--brave men who had volunteered tocarry wounded under fire, and whom the army somewhat ungratefullynicknames the 'Body-snatchers. ' Nor were these grim preparations theonly indications of approaching activity. The commissariat told tales ofaccumulations of supplies--twenty-one days' packed in waggons--of thecollection of transport oxen and other details, meaningless bythemselves, but full of significance when viewed side by side with othercircumstances. Accordingly I was scarcely surprised when, chancing toride from Chieveley to Frere on the afternoon of the 10th, I discoveredthe whole of Sir Charles Warren's division added to the alreadyextensive camp. 

This was the first move of the complicated operations by which SirRedvers Buller designed to seize the passage of the Tugela atPotgieter's Ferry: Warren (seven battalions, comprising Coke's andWoodgate's Brigades and five batteries) from Estcourt to Frere. When Igot back to Chieveley all was bustle in the camp. Orders to march atdawn had arrived. At last the long pause was finished; waiting wasover; action had begun. 

So far as Chieveley was concerned, the following was the programme:Barton's Brigade to entrench itself strongly and to remain beforeColenso, covering the head of the line of communications, anddemonstrating against the position; Hildyard's Brigade to move westwardat daylight on the 11th to Pretorius's Farm; cavalry, guns, and baggage(miles of it) to take a more circuitous route to the same place. Thitheralso Hart was to move from Frere, joining Hildyard and forming Clery'sdivision. Warren was to rest until the next day. The force for therelief of Ladysmith, exclusive of Barton's Brigade and communicationtroops, was organised as follows:

 _Commander-in-Chief_: SIR REDVERS BULLER

 CLERY'S DIVISION Warren's Division consisting of consisting of

 Hildyard's Brigade, Lyttelton's Brigade, Hart's Brigade, Woodgate's Brigade, 1 squad. 13th Hussars, 1 squad. 15th Hussars, 3 batteries, 3 batteries, R. E. R. E. 

 CORPS TROOPS

 Coke's Brigade (3 battalions), 1 field battery R. A. , 1 howitzer battery R. A. , 2 4. 7-inch naval guns and Naval Brigade, 8 long-range naval 12-pounder guns, 1 squadron 13th Hussars, R. E. , &c. 

 CAVALRY (DUNDONALD)

 1st Royal Dragoons. 14th Hussars. 4 squadrons South African Light Horse. 1 squadron Imperial Light Horse. Bethune's Mounted Infantry. Thorneycroft's Mounted Infantry. 1 squadron Natal Carabineers. 1 squadron Natal Police. 1 company K. R. R. Mounted Infantry. 6 machine guns. 

Or, to sum the whole up briefly, 19, 000 infantry, 3, 000 cavalry, and 60guns. 

All were busy with their various tasks--Barton's Brigade entrenching, making redoubts and shelter pits, or block-houses of railway iron; theother brigades packing up ready for the march as night closed in. Inthe morning we started. The cavalry were responsible for the safety ofthe baggage convoy, and with Colonel Byng, who commanded the column, Iwaited and watched the almost interminable procession defile. Ox waggonspiled high with all kinds of packages, and drawn sometimes by ten ortwelve pairs of oxen, mule waggons, Scotch carts, ambulance waggons, with huge Red Cross flags, ammunition carts, artillery, slaughtercattle, and, last of all, the naval battery, with its two enormous4. 7-inch pieces, dragged by long strings of animals, and guarded bystraw-hatted khaki-clad bluejackets, passed in imposing array, with hereand there a troop of cavalry to protect them or to prevent straggling. And here let me make an unpleasant digression. The vast amount ofbaggage this army takes with it on the march hampers its movements andutterly precludes all possibility of surprising the enemy. I have neverbefore seen even officers accommodated with tents on service, thoughboth the Indian frontier and the Soudan lie under a hotter sun thanSouth Africa. But here to day, within striking distance of a mobileenemy whom we wish to circumvent, every private soldier has canvasshelter, and the other arrangements are on an equally elaborate scale. The consequence is that roads are crowded, drifts are blocked, marchingtroops are delayed, and all rapidity of movement is out of the question. Meanwhile, the enemy completes the fortification of his positions, andthe cost of capturing them rises. It is a poor economy to let a soldierlive well for three days at the price of killing him on the fourth. [1]

We marched off with the rearguard at last, and the column twisted awayamong the hills towards the west. After marching about three miles wereached the point where the track from Frere joined the track fromChieveley, and here two streams of waggons flowed into one another likethe confluence of rivers. Shortly after this all the mounted forceswith the baggage were directed to concentrate at the head of the column, and, leaving the tardy waggons to toil along at their own pace, wetrotted swiftly forward. Pretorius's Farm was reached at noon--atin-roofed house, a few sheds, a dozen trees, and an artificial pondfilled to the brim by the recent rains. Here drawn up in the spaciousplain were the Royal Dragoons--distinguished from the Colonial Corps bythe bristle of lances bare of pennons above their ranks and by theirgreat horses--one squadron of the already famous Imperial Light Horse, and Bethune's Mounted Infantry. The Dragoons remained at the farm, whichwas that night to be the camping place of Clery's division. But all therest of the mounted forces, about a thousand men, and a battery ofartillery were hurried forward to seize the bridge across the LittleTugela at Springfield. 

So on we ride, 'trot and walk, ' lightly and easily over the good turf, and winding in scattered practical formations among the beautifulverdant hills of Natal. Presently we topped a ridge and entered a veryextensive basin of country--a huge circular valley of green grass withsloping hills apparently on all sides and towards the west, bluffs, rising range above range, to the bright purple wall of the Drakensberg. Other valleys opened out from this, some half veiled in thin mist, others into which the sun was shining, filled with a curious blue light, so that one seemed to be looking down into depths of clear water, andeveryone rejoiced in the splendours of the delightful landscape. 

But now we approached Springfield, and perhaps at Springfield we shouldfind the enemy. Surely if they did not oppose the passage they wouldblow up the bridge. Tiny patrols--beetles on a green baizecarpet--scoured the plain, and before we reached the crease--scarcelyperceptible at a mile's distance, in which the Little Tugela flows--wordwas brought that no Dutchmen were anywhere to be seen. Captain Gough, itappeared, with one man had ridden over the bridge in safety; more thanthat, had actually explored three miles on the further side: did notbelieve there was a Boer this side of the Tugela: would like to push onto Potgieter's and make certain: 'Perhaps we can seize Potgieter'sto-night. They don't like having a flooded river behind them. ' So wecome safely to Springfield--three houses, a long wooden bridge 'erectedby public subscription, at a cost of 4, 300_l_. '--half a dozen farms withtheir tin roofs and tree clumps seen in the neighbourhood--and no Boers. Orders were to seize the bridge: seized accordingly; and after all hadcrossed and watered in the Little Tugela--swollen by the rains to quitea considerable Tugela, eighty yards wide--we looked about for somethingelse to do. 

Meanwhile more patrols came in; all told the same tale: no Boersanywhere. Well, then, let us push on. Why not seize the heights abovePotgieter's? If held, they would cost a thousand men to storm; now, perhaps, they might be had for nothing. Again, why not? Orders said, 'Goto Springfield;' nothing about Potgieter's at all. Never mind--ifcavalry had never done more than obey their orders how differentEnglish history would have been! Captain Birdwood, 11th Bengal Lancers, glorious regiment of the Indian frontier, now on Lord Dundonald's staff, was for pushing on. All and sundry were eager to get on. 'Have a dashfor it. ' It is very easy to see what to do in the field of war until youput on the thick blue goggles of responsibility. Dundonald reflected, reflected again, and finally resolved. _Vorwärts!_ So on we wentaccordingly. Three hundred men and two guns were left to hold theSpringfield bridge, seven hundred men and four guns hurried on throughthe afternoon to Potgieter's Ferry, or, more properly speaking, theheights commanding it, and reached them safely at six o'clock, finding astrong position strengthened by loopholed stone walls, unguarded andunoccupied. The whole force climbed to the top of the hills, and withgreat labour succeeded in dragging the guns with them before night. Thenwe sent back to announce what we had done and to ask for reinforcements. 

The necessity for reinforcements seemed very real to me, for I have awholesome respect for Boer military enterprise; and after the securityof a great camp the dangers of our lonely unsupported perch on the hillscame home with extra force. 'No Boers this side of the Tugela. ' How didwe know? We had not seen any, but the deep valleys along the river mighteasily conceal two thousand horsemen. I said to myself, the Boer hasalways a reason for everything he does. He left the Springfield bridgestanding. It would have cost him nothing to blow it up. Why, then, hadhe neglected this obvious precaution? Again, the position we had seizedhad actually been fortified by the enemy. Why, then, had they abandonedit to a parcel of horsemen without a shot fired? I could quiteunderstand that the flooded Tugela was not a satisfactory feature tofight in front of, but it seemed certain that they had some devilryprepared for us somewhere. The uninjured bridge appeared to me a trap:the unguarded position a bait. Suppose they were, we should be attackedat daylight. Nothing more than a soldier should always expect; but whatof the position? The line we had to hold to cover the approaches to ourhill-top was far greater than seven hundred men could occupy. Had webeen only cavalry and mounted men we could have fallen back after theposition became untenable, but we were encumbered with fourfield-guns--a source of anxiety, not of strength. So I began to long forinfantry. Two thousand good infantry would make everything absolutelysecure. And ten miles away were infantry by thousands, all delighted tomarch every mile nearer the front. 

We passed a wet and watchful night without food or sleep, and were gladto find the break of day unbroken by the musketry of a heavy attack. From our lofty position on the heights the whole country beyond theTugela was spread like a map. I sat on a great rock which overhung thevalley, and searched the landscape inch by inch with field glasses. After an hour's study my feeling of insecurity departed. I learned theanswer to the questions which had perplexed the mind. Before us lay the'devilry' the Boers had prepared, and it was no longer difficult tounderstand why the Springfield bridge had been spared and the heightsabandoned. [2]

The ground fell almost sheer six hundred feet to the flat bottom of thevalley. Beneath, the Tugela curled along like a brown and very sinuousserpent. Never have I seen such violent twists and bends in a river. Attimes the waters seemed to loop back on themselves. One great loop benttowards us, and at the arch of this the little ferry of Potgieter'sfloated, moored to ropes which looked through the field glasses like aspider's web. The ford, approached by roads cut down through the steepbank, was beside it, but closed for the time being by the flood. Theloop of river enclosed a great tongue of land which jutted from thehills on the enemy's side almost to our feet. A thousand yards from thetip of this tongue rose a line of low kopjes crowned with reddishstones. The whole tongue was virtually ours. Our guns on the heights oron the bank could sweep it from flank to flank, enfilade and crossfire. Therefore the passage of the river was assured. We had obtainedwhat amounted to a practical bridgehead, and could cross whenever wethought fit. But the explanation of many things lay beyond. At the baseof the tongue, where it sprang from the Boer side of the valley, theground rose in a series of gentle grassy slopes to a long horseshoe ofhills, and along this, both flanks resting securely on unfordablereaches of the river, out of range from our heights of any but theheaviest guns, approachable by a smooth grass glacis, which was exposedto two or three tiers of cross-fire and converging fire, ran the enemy'sposition. Please look at the sketch on p. 261, which shows nothing butwhat it is meant to. 

[Illustration: Plan of Potgieter's Ferry. ]

It will be seen that there is no difficulty in shelling the Boers out ofthe little kopjes, of fortifying them, and of passing the army on to thetip of the tongue; but to get off the tongue on to the smooth plateauthat runs to Ladysmith it was necessary to force the tremendous Boerposition enclosing the tongue. In technical language the possession ofthe heights virtually gave us a bridgehead on the Tugela, but thedebouches from that bridgehead were barred by an exterior line of hillsfortified and occupied by the enemy. 

What will Sir Redvers Buller do? In a few hours we shall know. To crossand deliver a frontal attack will cost at least three thousand men. Is aflank attack possible? Can the position be turned? Fords few and farbetween, steep banks, mighty positions on the further banks: such aresome of the difficulties. But everyone has confidence in the general. An officer who had been serving on the Kimberley side came here. 'Idon't understand, ' he said, 'how it is you are all so cheerful hereafter Colenso. You should hear the troops at Modeler River. ' But it is apoor army that cannot take a repulse and come up smiling, and when theprivate soldiers put their faith in any man they are very constant. Besides, Buller's personality impresses everyone with the idea of somegreat reserve of force. Certainly he has something up his sleeve. Themove to Potgieter's has been talked of for a month and executed with thegreatest ostentation and deliberation. Surely something lies behind itall. So at least we all believe, and in the meanwhile trustwholeheartedly. 

But some part of the army will certainly cross at Potgieter's; and as Ilooked down on the smooth smiling landscape it seemed very strange tothink that in a few days it would blaze into a veritable hell. Yet thedark lines of shelter trenches, the redoubts crowning the hills, thebristle of tiny black figures busily entrenching against the sky line, hundreds of horses grazing in the plain, all promised a fierce andstubborn defence. I turned about. The country to the southward was alsovisible. What looked to the naked eye like an endless thin rope laystreaked across the spacious veldt, and when I looked through the glassI saw that it was ten or twelve miles of marching men and baggage. Thearmies were approaching. The collision impended. 

Nothing happened during the day except the capture of the ferry, whichdaring enterprise was carried out by volunteers from the South AfricanLight Horse. Six swimmers, protected by a covering party of twenty men, swam the flooded Tugela and began to haul the punt back, whereat theBoers concealed in the kopjes opened a brisk fire at long range on thenaked figures, but did not hit anyone nor prevent them all from bringingthe punt safely to our side: a dashing exploit, of which theirregiment--the 'Cockyolibirds, ' as the army, with its customaryirreverence, calls us on account of the cock's feather cockades we wearin our hats (miserable jealousy!)--are immensely proud. 

The falling of the Tugela increased the danger of our position, and Iwas delighted when I woke up the next morning, the second of ouradventurous occupation, to find Colonel Sandbach, to whom I had confidedmy doubts, outside my tent, saying 'I suppose you'll be happy now. Twobattalions have arrived. ' And, sure enough, when I looked southwards, Isaw a steady rivulet of infantry trickling through the gorge, andforming a comfortable brown inundation in the hollow where our camp lay. A few minutes later Sir Redvers Buller and his staff rode up to seethings for themselves, and then we knew that all was well. 

The General made his way to the great stone we call the observatory, andlying down on his back peered through a telescope in silence for thebest part of an hour. Then he went off to breakfast with the CavalryBrigade staff. A few officers remained behind to take a still moreexhaustive view. 'There'll be some wigs on that green before long. ''What a wonderful sight it will be from here!' 'What a place to see abattle from!' Two artillerymen were loitering near. Said one: 'We oughtto have the Queen up here, in her little donkey carriage. ' 'Ah, we'd doit all right then, ' replied his comrade. But when I looked at thepeaceful plain and reflected on the storm and tumult presently to burstupon it, I could not help being glad that no gentle eye would view thatbloody panorama. 

FOOTNOTES:

[1] This complaint was not in one respect justified by what followed, for after we left Spearman's we only saw our tents for a day or two, andat rare intervals, until Ladysmith was relieved. 

[2] _Vide_ map, opposite p. 366, which will be found to illustrate thesubsequent letters. 

CHAPTER XVI

TRICHARDT'S DRIFT AND THE AFFAIR OF ACTON HOMES

Venter's Spruit: January 22, 1900. 

On Thursday, January 11, Sir Redvers Buller began his operations forforcing the Tugela and relieving Ladysmith. Barton's Brigade entrencheditself at Chieveley, guarding the line of railway communication. Hildyard's Brigade marched westward six miles to Pretorius's Farm, wherethey were joined by the cavalry, the naval guns, three batteries FieldArtillery, and Hart's Brigade from Frere. The infantry and two batteriesremained and encamped, making Clery's division, while the mounted forcesunder Dundonald moved forward to take the bridge across the LittleTugela at Springfield, and, finding this unoccupied, pushed on andseized the heights overlooking Potgieter's Drift on the Tugela, On the12th Warren's division, comprising the brigades of Lyttelton andWoodgate, with three batteries, marched to Springfield, where theycamped. On the 13th the mounted troops, holding the heights abovePotgieter's Drift, were strengthened by the arrival of two battalions ofLyttelton's Brigade from Springfield. Sir Redvers Buller established hisheadquarters in this camp. On the 14th the rest of the brigade followed, and the same day the corps troops, consisting of Coke's Brigade, onehowitzer, and one field battery, reached Springfield. On the 15th Cokemoved to the position before Potgieter's, and the naval guns wereestablished on the heights commanding the ford. All this while the Boerscontented themselves with fortifying their horseshoe position whichenclosed the debouches from Potgieter's Drift, and only picket firingdisturbed the general peace. 

Such was the situation when I wrote my last letter. It was soon todevelop, though in a most leisurely and deliberate manner. The mountedforces, which had arrived at Spearman's Hill, as the position beforePotgieter's was called, on the 11th, passed nearly a week ofexpectation. Daily we watched the enemy fortifying his position, andobserved the long lines of trenches which grew and spread along the faceof the opposite hills. Daily we made reconnoitring expeditions both eastand west along the Tugela, expeditions always attended with incident, sometimes with adventure. One day Colonel Byng crawled with twosquadrons to the summit of a high hill which overlooked the road fromColenso to Potgieter's, and a long and patient vigil was rewarded by thearrival of five Boer ox waggons toiling sluggishly along with supplies, on which we directed a rapid and effective fire till they found somerefuge in a cutting. Another day we strengthened ourselves with twoguns, and, marching nearly to the junction of the Tugelas, gave theBoers camped there an honest hour's shelling, and extricated a patrol ofBethune's Mounted Infantry from a rather disagreeable position, so thatthey were able to bring off a wounded trooper. Nightly the cavalry campwent to sleep in the belief that a general attack would open on theenemy's position at dawn. Day after day the expected did not happen. Buller had other resources than to butt his head against the tremendousentrenchments which were springing up before him. Everyone discussedevery conceivable alternative, and in the meanwhile it was always'battle to-morrow, ' but never 'battle to-day. ' And so it has continueduntil this moment, and the great event--the main trial ofstrength--still impends. 

But though there has been but little powder burned the situation hasmaterially altered, and its alteration has been entirely to ouradvantage. We have crossed the Tugela. The river which for two monthshas barred the advance of the relieving army lies behind us now. Theenemy entrenched and entrenching in a strong position still confrontsus, but the British forces are across the Tugela, and have deployed onthe northern bank. With hardly any loss Sir Redvers Buller has gained asplendid advantage. The old inequality of ground has been swept away, and the strongest army yet moved under one hand in South Africa standsface to face with the Boers on the ordinary terms of attack and defence. Let me describe the steps by which this result has been obtained. On theafternoon of the 16th, as we were sitting down to luncheon, we noticed achange in the appearance of the infantry camps on the reverse slopes ofSpearman's Hill. There was a busy bustling of men; the tents began tolook baggy, then they all subsided together; the white disappeared, andthe camping grounds became simply brown patches of moving soldiery. Lyttelton's Brigade had received orders to march at once. Whither? Itwas another hour before this part of the secret transpired. They were tocross the river and seize the near kopjes beyond Potgieter's Drift. Orders for cavalry and guns to move arrived in quick succession; theentire cavalry force, excepting only Bethune's Mounted Infantry, tomarch at 5. 30 P. M. , with five days' rations, 150 rounds per man, andwhat they stood up in--tents blankets, waterproof sheets, picketinggear, all to be left behind. Our camp was to remain standing. Theinfantry had struck theirs. I puzzled over this for some time, in factuntil an officer pointed out that our camp was in full view of the Boeroutposts on Spion Kop, while the infantry camps were hidden by a turn ofthe hill. Evidently a complex and deeply laid scheme was in progress. 

In the interval, while the South African Light Horse were preparing forthe march, I rode up to Gun Hill to watch the operation of seizing thenear kopjes, which stood on the tongue of land across the river, and asnearly as possible in the centre of the horseshoe position of the enemy. The sailors were hauling their two great guns to the crest of the hillready to come into action to support the infantry attack. Far below, thefour battalions crept through the scrub at the foot of the hills towardsthe ferry. As they arrived at the edge of the open ground the longwinding columns dissolved into sprays of skirmishers, line behind lineof tiny dashes, visible only as shadows on the smooth face of theveldt, strange formations, the result of bitter practical experience. Presently the first line--a very thin line--men twenty pacesapart--reached the ferry punt and the approaches to the Waggon Drift, and scrambled down to the brim of the river. A single man began to wadeand swim across, carrying a line. Two or three others followed. Then a long chain of men, with arms locked--a sort of humancaterpillar--entered the water, struggled slowly across, and formed upunder the shelter of the further bank. All the time the Boers, manningtheir trenches and guns, remained silent. The infantry of the twoleading battalions were thus filtering uneventfully across when the timefor the cavalry column to start arrived. 

There was a subdued flutter of excitement as we paraded, for though bothour destination and object were unknown, it was clearly understood thatthe hour of action had arrived. Everything was moving. A long cloud ofdust rose up in the direction of Springfield. A column ofinfantry--Coke's Brigade--curled out of its camp near Spearman's Hill, and wound down towards the ferry at Potgieter's. Eight curiouslyproportioned guns (naval 12-pounders), with tiny wheels and thinelongated barrels, were passed in a string, each tied to the tail of awaggon drawn by twenty oxen. The howitzer battery hurried to follow; itsshort and squat pieces, suggesting a row of venomous toads, made astriking contrast. As the darkness fell the cavalry column started. Onall sides men were marching through the night: much important businesswas toward, which the reader may easily understand by studying the map, but cannot without such attention. 

Having placed his army within striking distance of the various passagesacross the Tugela, Sir Redvers Buller's next object was to cross anddebouch. To this end his plan appears to have been--for information isscarcely yet properly codified--something as follows: Lyttelton'sBrigade, the corps troops forming Coke's Brigade, the ten naval guns, the battery of howitzers, one field battery, and Bethune's MountedInfantry to demonstrate in front of the Potgieter position, keeping theBoers holding the horseshoe in expectation of a frontal attack, andmasking their main position; Sir Charles Warren to march by night fromSpringfield with the brigades of Hart, Woodgate, and Hildyard, the RoyalDragoons, six batteries of artillery, and the pontoon train to a pointabout five miles west of Spearman's Hill, and opposite Trichardt's Drifton the Tugela. Here he was to meet the mounted forces from Spearman'sHill, and with these troops he was next day, the 17th, to throw bridges, force the passage of the river, and operate at leisure and discretionagainst the right flank of the enemy's horseshoe before Potgieter's, resting on Spion Kop, a commanding mountain, ultimately joining handswith the frontal force from Spearman's Hill at a point on the ActonHomes-Ladysmith road. To sum up briefly, seven battalions, twenty-twoguns, and three hundred horse under Lyttelton to mask the Potgieterposition; twelve battalions, thirty-six guns, and sixteen hundred horseto cross five miles to the westward, and make a turning movement againstthe enemy's right. The Boer covering army was to be swept back onLadysmith by a powerful left arm, the pivoting shoulder of which was atPotgieter's, the elbow at Trichardt's Drift, and the envelopinghand--the cavalry under Lord Dundonald--stretching out towards ActonHomes. 

So much for the plan; now for its execution or modifications. One mainfeature has characterised the whole undertaking--its amazingdeliberation. There was to be absolutely no hurry of any kind whatever. Let the enemy entrench and fortify. If necessary, we were prepared tosap up to his positions. Let him discover where the attack impended. Even then all his resistance should be overborne. And it seems now thatthis same deliberation which was so punctiliously observed, when speedappeared an essential to success, baffled the enemy almost as much as itmystified the troops. However, the event is not yet decided. 

After about two, hours' easy marching the cavalry reached the point ofrendezvous among the hills opposite Trichardt's Drift, and here wehalted and awaited developments in the blackness. An hour passed. Thenthere arrived Sir Charles Warren and staff. 'Move the cavalry out of theway--fifteen thousand men marching along this road to-night. ' So wemoved accordingly and waited again. Presently the army began to come. Iremember that it poured with rain, and there was very little to look atin the gloom, but, nevertheless, it was not possible to stand unmovedand watch the ceaseless living stream--miles of stern-looking menmarching in fours so quickly that they often had to run to keep up, ofartillery, ammunition columns, supply columns, baggage, slaughtercattle, thirty great pontoons, white-hooded, red-crossed ambulancewaggons, all the accessories of an army hurrying forward under the coverof night--and before them a guiding star, the red gleam of war. 

We all made quite sure that the bridges would be built during thenight, so that with the dawn the infantry could begin to cross and makean immediate onfall. But when morning broke the whole force was revealedspread about the hills overlooking the drift and no sound of artilleryproclaimed the beginning of an action. Of course, since a lightning blowhad been expected, we all wondered what was the cause of the delay. Somesaid folly, others incapacity, others even actual laziness. But so faras the operations have proceeded I am not inclined to think that we havelost anything by not hurrying on this occasion. As I write all is goingwell, and it would have been a terrible demand to make of infantry thatthey should attack, after a long night march, such a position as lay andstill lies in part before us. In fact it was utterly impossible to doanything worth doing that day beyond the transportation; so that, thoughthe Boers were preparing redoubts and entrenchments with frantic energy, we might just as well take our time. At about eight o'clock a patrol ofthe Imperial Light Horse, under Captain Bridges, having ascertained thatonly a few Dutch scouts were moving within range on the further bank, the passage of the river began. Two battalions of Hildyard's Brigade, the West Yorkshires and the Devons, moved towards the drift in the usualopen formation, occupied the houses, and began to entrench themselves inthe fields. Six batteries came into action from the wooded heightscommanding the passage. The pontoons advanced. Two were launched, and inthem the West Yorkshire Regiment began to cross, accumulating graduallyin the shelter of the further bank. Then the sappers began to build thebridges. Half a dozen Boers fired a few shots at long range, and oneunfortunate soldier in the Devons was killed. The batteries opened onthe farms, woods, and kopjes beyond the river, shelling themassiduously, though there was not an enemy to be seen, and searching outthe ground with great thoroughness. I watched this proceeding of making'sicker' from the heights. The drift was approached from the groundwhere we had bivouacked by a long, steep, descending valley. At nineo'clock the whole of Hart's Brigade poured down this great gutter andextended near the water. The bridge was growing fast--span after span ofpontoons sprang out at the ends as it lay along the bank. Very soon itwould be long enough to tow into position across the flood. Moreover, the infantry of the West Yorks and Devons had mostly been ferriedacross, and were already occupying the lately well-shelled farms andwoods. At eleven o'clock the bridge was finished, the transportedinfantry were spreading up the hills, and Woodgate's Brigade movedforward down the valley. 

It soon became time for the cavalry to cross, but they were notaccommodated, as were the infantry, with a convenient bridge, About aquarter of a mile down stream from Trichardt's Drift there is a deep andrather dangerous ford, called the Waggon Drift. Across this at noon themounted men began to make their way, and what with the uneven bottom andthe strong current there were a good many duckings. The Royal Dragoonsmounted on their great horses, indeed, passed without much difficulty, but the ponies of the Light Horse and Mounted Infantry were often sweptoff their feet, and the ridiculous spectacle of officers and menfloundering in the torrent or rising indignantly from the shallowsprovided a large crowd of spectators--who had crossed by thebridge--with a comedy. Tragedy was not, however, altogether excluded, for a trooper of the 13th Hussars was drowned, and Captain Tremayne, ofthe same regiment, who made a gallant attempt to rescue him, was takenfrom the water insensible. 

During the afternoon the busy Engineers built a second bridge across theriver, and by this and the first the artillery, the ammunition columns, and the rest of the mass of wheeled transport defiled. All that day andthrough the night this monotonous business of passing the waggons acrosscontinued. The cavalry had bivouacked--all tents and even waterproofswere now left behind--within the infantry picket lines, and we awoke atthe break of day expecting to hear the boom of the first gun. 'Quiteright to wait until there was a whole day to make the attack in. Supposethat was the reason we did not hurry yesterday. ' But no guns fired nearTrichardt's Drift, and only the frontal force at Potgieter's began itsusual bombardment. Sir Charles Warren, moreover, said that his artilleryhad not finished crossing--one battery still to cross--and that therewas no hurry. Deliberation was the order of the day. So again everyonewas puzzled, and not a few were critical, for in modern times everyonethinks, and even a native camp follower has his views on tactics andstrategy. A very complete consolation awaited the cavalry. All thatWarren did with his infantry on this day, the 18th, was to creepcautiously forward about two miles towards the Boer position, which withits left resting on Spion Kop stretched along the edge and crest of alofty plateau, from which long gently sloping spurs and _arêtes_ randown to the river. For us, however, there was more diverting employment. 'The mounted brigade will guard the left flank of the infantry. ' Suchwas the order; and is not offence the surest defence? Accordingly allthe irregular cavalry moved in a considerable column westward across thefront of the Boer position, endeavouring to find where its flank rested, and prying with inquisitive patrols at every object of interest. Theorder of march was as follows: First, the composite regiment (onesquadron of Imperial Light Horse, the 60th Rifles, Mounted Infantry, andone squadron of Natal Carabineers), 350 of the very best; next, foursquadrons of the South African Light Horse, good shooting high-classcolonial Volunteers with officers of experience; then Thorneycroft'sMounted Infantry. 'Lived in Natal all our lives! Know every inch of it, sir!' And behind these alert mounted riflemen moved the ponderous andterrible regulars, 13th Hussars and Royals, with the dreaded _armeblanche_, 'Wait till we get among them. ' Altogether a formidablebrigade. 

There were many halts, and no one hurried, so that at two o'clock thewhole cavalry formed a line of observation along the lower kopjes bythe river about five miles long. The composite regiment was not, however, to be seen. Major Graham, who commanded it, had been observedtrotting swiftly off to the westward. Two hundred Boers had also beenreported moving in that direction. Presently came the sound of distantmusketry--not so very distant either. Everyone pricked up his ears. Twomiles away to the left was a green hill broken by rocky kopjes. Lookingthrough my glasses I could see ten or twelve riderless horses grazing. Amile further on a group of Boers sheltering behind a kopje from thecontinual fire was visible. Suddenly one galloped away madly, and evenat the distance it was possible to see the cloud of dust from pursuingbullets. A straggling column of Boers was trekking away across the plainback to their main position. Then came reports and rumours. 'Ambuscadedthe Dutchmen--shot 'em to bits--some of them cut off--come and bag thelot. ' Behind the rumours Barnes, adjutant of the Imperial Light Horse, joyful, with a breathless horse; he explained how they had seen twohundred Boers moving towards distant hills, to make sure of their lineof retreat by the Acton Homes road into the Free State; galloped to cutthem off; reached the hills first, with just five minutes to spare;dismounted, commanding the road, and waited. 

The Boers admitted afterwards that they thought that the squadronsvisible on the other hills two miles back were the head of our column, and they also blamed their scouts, particularly one, an Austrian. 'Itall comes of trusting these cursed foreigners! If we had only had a_veldt_ Boer out we should never have been caught. ' Caught, however, they undoubtedly were. The Carabineers and the Imperial Light Horse heldtheir fire until the scouts walked into their midst, and then let driveat the main body, 300 yards range, mounted men, smooth open grass plain. There was a sudden furious, snapping fusillade The Boer column stoppedparalysed; then they broke and rushed for cover. The greater numbergalloped fast from the field; some remained on the ground dead orwounded. Others took refuge among the rocks of the kopjes and apparentlyproposed to hold out until dark, and hence the arrival of LieutenantBarnes demanding reinforcements, 60th Rifles, Mounted Infantry, andanything else, so as to attack these fellows in flank and 'bag the lot. 'Meanwhile Lord Dundonald had arrived on our hill. 'Certainly, every manwe can spare. ' Off gallops the Mounted Infantry and one squadron of theSouth African Light Horse, and later on some of Thorneycroft's, andlater still the Brigadier himself. I arrived in time to see the end. TheBoers--how many we could not tell--were tenaciously holding the blackrocks of a kopje and were quite invisible. The British riflemen curvedround them in a half-moon, firing continually at the rocks. The squadronof South African Light Horse had worked almost behind the enemy, andevery Dutchman who dared make a dash for liberty ran a terriblegauntlet. Still the surrender did not come. The white flag flickered fora moment above the rocks, but neither side stopped firing. Evidently adifference of opinion among the enemy. What do we care for that? Nightis coming on. Let us rush them with the bayonet and settle the matter. This from the Rifles--nobody else had bayonets. So a section pushesforward against the rocks, crawling along the ground. Anxious to see thesurrender, I followed on my pony, but on the instant there broke out asavage fire from the kopje, and with difficulty I found shelter in adonga. Here were two of the Natal Carabineers--one a bearded man of thewell-to-do farmer class, the other a young fair-haired gentleman--bothprivates, both as cool as ice. 'Vewy astonishing outburst of fire, ' saidthe younger man in a delicate voice. 'I would recommend your remaininghere with your horse for the present. ' Accordingly we lay still on thegrass slope and awaited developments. The young gentleman put his helmetover the crest on the end of his rifle, and was much diverted to hearthe bullets whistle round it. At intervals he substituted his head forthe helmet and reported the state of the game. 'Bai Jove, the Riflesare in a hot place. ' I peered cautiously. A hundred yards away theMounted Infantry section were extended. The dust spurts rose around themen, who remained pinned to the earth, scarcely able to raise theirheads to fire. Whatever passed over them came whizzing in our direction. The Natal Volunteer, however, was too much interested in the proceedingsto forego his view. 'Deah, deah, they've fixed bayonets! Why, they'recoming back. They've had someone hurt. ' I looked again for a moment. Theline of riflemen was certainly retiring, wriggling backwards slowly ontheir bellies. Two brown forms lay still and hunched in the abandonedposition. Then suddenly the retiring Riflemen sprang up and ran forshelter in our donga. One lad jumped right in among us laughing andpanting, and the whole party turned at once and lined the bank. First-class infantry can afford to retire at the double, sure that theywill stop at a word. 'We got to within fifty yards of the Dutchmen, 'they said; 'but it was too hot to go further. They've shot two fellowsthrough the head. ' Eventually we all retired to the main position on theridge above us. Lord Dundonald and his staff had just arrived. 

'There! there's the white flag again. Shoot the devils!' cried asoldier, and the musketry crashed out fiercely. 'What's to be done, sir?' said the Captain, turning to the Brigadier; 'the white flag hasbeen up off and on for the last half-hour, but they don't stop firing, and they've just killed two of my men. '

'Give them one more chance. ' 'Cease fire--cease fire there, will you?'for the men were very angry, and so at last the musketry died away, andthere was silence. Then from among the rocks three dark figures stood upholding up their hands, and at this tangible evidence of surrender wegot on our horses and galloped towards them waving pocket handkerchiefsand signalling flags to show them that their surrender was accepted. Altogether there were twenty-four prisoners--all Boers of the mostformidable type--a splendid haul, and I thought with delight of my poorfriends the prisoners at Pretoria. This might redeem a few. Then wesearched the ground, finding ten dead or dying and twenty loose horses, ten dead and eight badly wounded men. The soldiers crowded round theselast, covering them up with blankets or mackintoshes, propping theirheads with saddles for pillows, and giving them water and biscuits fromtheir bottles and haversacks. Anger had turned to pity in an instant. The desire to kill was gone. The desire to comfort replaced it. A littlealert officer--Hubert Gough, now a captain, soon to command aregiment--came up to me. Two minutes before his eyes were bright andjoyous with the excitement of the man hunt. He had galloped amile--mostly under fire--to bring the reinforcements to surround theBoers. 'Bag the lot, you know. ' Now he was very sad. 'There's a poor boydying up there--only a boy, and so cold--who's got a blanket?'

So the soldiers succoured the Boer wounded, and we told the prisonersthat they would be shown courtesy and kindness worthy of brave men anda famous quarrel. The Boer dead were collected and a flag of truce wassent to the enemy's lines to invite a burying and identification partyat dawn. I have often seen dead men, killed in war--thousands atOmdurman--scores elsewhere, black and white, but the Boer dead arousedthe most painful emotions. Here by the rock under which he had foughtlay the Field Cornet of Heilbronn, Mr. De Mentz--a grey-haired man ofover sixty years, with firm aquiline features and a short beard. Thestony face was grimly calm, but it bore the stamp of unalterableresolve; the look of a man who had thought it all out, and was quitecertain that his cause was just, and such as a sober citizen might givehis life for. Nor was I surprised when the Boer prisoners told me thatMentz had refused all suggestions of surrender, and that when his leftleg was smashed by a bullet he had continued to load and fire until hebled to death; and they found him, pale and bloodless, holding hiswife's letter in his hand. Beside him was a boy of about seventeen shotthrough the heart. Further on lay our own two poor riflemen with theirheads smashed like eggshells; and I suppose they had mothers or wivesfar away at the end of the deep-sea cables. Ah, horrible war, amazingmedley of the glorious and the squalid, the pitiful and the sublime, ifmodern men of light and leading saw your face closer, simple folk wouldsee it hardly ever. 

It could not be denied that the cavalry had scored a brilliant success. We had captured twenty-four, killed ten, and wounded eight--total, forty-two. Moreover, we had seen the retreating Boers dragging andsupporting their injured friends from the field, and might fairly claimfifteen knocked out of time, besides those in our hands, totalfifty-seven; a fine bag, for which we had had to pay scarcely anything. Two soldiers of the Mounted Infantry killed; one trooper of the ImperialLight Horse slightly, and one officer, Captain Shore--the twenty-thirdofficer of this regiment hit during the last three months--severelywounded. 

CHAPTER XVII

THE BATTLE OF SPION KOP

Venter's Spruit: January 25, 1900. 

It is the remarkable characteristic of strong races, as of honourablemen, to keep their tempers in the face of disappointment, and never tolose a just sense of proportion; and it is, moreover, the duty of everycitizen in times of trouble to do or say or even to think nothing thatcan weaken or discourage the energies of the State. Sir Redvers Buller'sarmy has met with another serious check in the attempt to relieveLadysmith. We have approached, tested, and assailed the Boer positionsbeyond the Tugela, fighting more or less continuously for five days, andthe result is that we find they cannot be pierced from the direction ofTrichardt's Drift any more than at Colenso. With the loss of more thantwo thousand men out of a small army, we find it necessary to recrossthe, river and seek for some other line of attack; and meanwhile thelong and brave resistance of Ladysmith must be drawing to a close. Indeed, it is the opinion of many good judges that further efforts torelieve the town will only be attended with further loss. As to this Ido not pronounce, but I am certain of one thing--that further effortsmust be made, without regard to the loss of life which will attend them. 

I have seen and heard a good deal of what has passed here. I have oftenbeen blamed for the freedom with which I have written of otheroperations and criticised their commanders. I respectfully submit that Iam as venomous an amateur strategist as exists at this time. It is veryeasy--and much more easy than profitable--when freed from allresponsibility to make daring suggestions and express decided opinions. I assert that I would not hesitate to criticise mercilessly if I was notmyself sobered by the full appreciation of the extraordinarydifficulties which the relief of Ladysmith presents; and if there beanyone who has any confidence in my desire to write the truth I appealto him to be patient and calm, to recognise that perhaps the task beforeSir Redvers Buller and his subordinates is an actual impossibility, thatif these generals are not capable men--among the best that our timesproduce--it is difficult to know where and how others may be obtained, and finally to brutally face the fact that Sir George White and hisheroic garrison may be forced to become the prisoners of the Boers, remembering always that nothing that happens, either victory or defeat, in northern Natal can affect the ultimate result of the war. In a word, let no one despair of the Empire because a few thousand soldiers arekilled, wounded, or captured Now for the story as plainly and briefly aspossible. 

When Buller had arrived at Potgieter's he found himself confronted by ahorseshoe position of great strength, enclosing and closing thedebouches from the ford where he had secured a practical bridgehead. Hetherefore masked Potgieter's with seven battalions and twenty-four guns, and sent Warren with twelve battalions and thirty-six guns to turn theright, which rested on the lofty hill--almost mountain--of Spion Kop. The Boers, to meet this turning movement, extended their line westwardsalong the heights of the Tugela valley almost as far as Acton Homes. Their whole position was, therefore, shaped like a note of interrogationlaid on its side, --/\, the curve in front of General Lyttelton, thestraight line before Sir Charles Warren. At the angle formed by thejunction of the curve and the line stands Spion Kop--'look-out hill. 'The curved position in front of General Lyttelton has been alreadydescribed in a previous letter. The straight position in front of SirCharles Warren ran in two lines along the edge and crest of a plateauwhich rises steeply two miles from the river, but is approachable bynumerous long _arêtes_ and dongas. These letters have completed thechronicle down to the evening of the 18th, when the successful cavalryaction was fought on the extreme left. 

I do not know why nothing was done on the 19th, but it does not appearthat anything was lost by the delay. The enemy's entrenchments werealready complete, and neither his numbers nor the strength of hispositions could increase. 

On the 20th Warren, having crept up the _arêtes_ and dongas, began hisattack. The brigades of Generals Woodgate and Hart pushed forward on theright, and the Lancashire and Irish regiments, fighting with the usualgallantry of her Majesty's troops, succeeded, in spite of a heavy fireof rifles and artillery, in effecting lodgments at various points alongthe edge of the plateau, capturing some portions of the enemy's firstline of entrenchments. On the extreme left the cavalry under LordDundonald demonstrated effectively, and the South African Light Horseunder Colonel Byng actually took and held without artillery support ofany kind a high hill, called henceforward 'Bastion Hill, ' between theDutch right and centre. Major Childe, the officer whose squadronperformed this daring exploit, was killed on the summit by the shellfire to which the successful assailants were subjected by the Boers. Inthe evening infantry reinforcements of Hildyard's Brigade arrived, andat dawn the cavalry handed over the hill to their charge. The lossesduring the day did not exceed three hundred and fifty officers and menwounded--with fortunately, a small proportion of killed--and fell mainlyon the Lancashire Fusiliers, the Dublin Fusiliers (always in the front), and the Royal Lancaster Regiment. They were not disproportioned to theapparent advantage gained. 

On the 21st the action was renewed. Hart's and Woodgate's brigades onthe right made good and extended their lodgments, capturing all the Boertrenches of their first defensive line along the edge of the plateau. Tothe east of 'Bastion Hill' there runs a deep _re-entrant_, whichappeared to open a cleft between the right and centre of the Boerposition. The tendency of General Hildyard's action, with fivebattalions and two batteries, on the British left this day was to drivea wedge of infantry into this cleft and so split the Boer position intwo. But as the action developed, the great strength of the second lineof defence gradually revealed itself. It ran along the crest of theplateau, which rises about a thousand yards from the edge in a series ofbeautiful smooth grassy slopes of concave surface, forming veritableglacis for the musketry of the defence to sweep; and it consisted of aline of low rock and earth redoubts and shelter trenches, apparentlyprovided with overhead cover, and cleverly arranged to command allapproaches with fire--often with cross-fire, sometimes with convergingfire. Throughout the 21st, as during the 20th, the British artillery, consisting of six field batteries and four howitzers, the latterapparently of tremendous power, bombarded the whole Boer positionceaselessly, firing on each occasion nearly three thousand shells. Theyclaim to have inflicted considerable loss on the enemy, and must haveinflicted some, but failed utterly and painfully to silence themusketry, to clear the trenches, or reach and overpower the Dutchartillery, which did not number more than seven or eight guns and twoMaxim shell-guns, but which were better served and manoeuvred and ofsuperior quality. The losses in the action of the 20th were about onehundred and thirty officers and men killed and wounded, but this must beregarded as severe in the face of the fact that no serious collision oreven contact took place. 

During the 22nd and 23rd the troops held the positions they had won, andthe infantry were subjected to a harassing shell fire from the Boerguns, which, playing from either flank, searched the _re-entrants_ inwhich the battalions sheltered, and which, though they did not cause agreater loss than forty men on the 22nd and twenty-five on the 23rd, nevertheless made their position extremely uncomfortable. It was quiteevident that the troops could not be fairly required to endure thisbombardment, against which there was no protection, indefinitely. Norwas any good object, but rather the contrary, to be gained by waiting. 

Three alternatives presented themselves to the council of war held onthe 22nd. First, to attack the second Boer position frontally along thecrest by moonlight. This would involve a great slaughter and a terriblerisk. Secondly, to withdraw again, beyond the Tugela, and look elsewherefor a passage: a moral defeat and a further delay in the relief ofLadysmith; and thirdly, to attack by night the mountain of Spion Kop, and thence to enfilade and command the Boer entrenchments. Sir RedversBuller, who has always disdained effect, was for the secondcourse--unpalatable as it must have been to a fearless man; miserable asit is to call off infantry after they have made sacrifices and wonpositions, and to call them off a second time. The discussion was aninformal one, and no votes were taken, but the General yielded to theadvice of his subordinate, rightly, I hold, because now at least we knowthe strength of the enemy's position, whereas before we only dreaded it;and knowledge is a better reason for action than apprehension. 

It was therefore decided to attack Spion Kop by night, rush the Boertrenches with the bayonet, entrench as far as possible before dawn, holdon during the day, drag guns up at night, and thus dominate the Boerlines. There is, of course, no possible doubt that Spion Kop is the keyof the whole position, and the reader has only to think of thehorizontal note of interrogation, and remember that the mountain at theangle divides, commands, and enfilades the enemy's lines, to appreciatethis fact. The questions to be proved were whether the troops could holdout during the day, and whether the place could be converted into a fortproof against shell fire and armed with guns during the following night. Fate has now decided both. 

General Woodgate was entrusted with the command, and ColonelThorneycroft with much of the arrangement and direction of the nightattack. It does not seem that anything but good resulted from this toosoon broken co-operation. Thorneycroft declined to attack on the nightof the 22nd because the ground had not been reconnoitered, and hewanted to be sure of his way. The infantry therefore had another day'sshelling on the 23rd. Good reconnaissances were, however, made, Lyttelton was strengthened by two Fusilier battalions from Chieveley, Warren was reinforced by Talbot Coke's Brigade and the Imperial LightInfantry, and at one o'clock on the morning of January 24 GeneralWoodgate started from his camp with the Lancashire Fusiliers, the RoyalLancaster Regiment, two companies of the South Lancashires, andThorneycroft's Mounted Infantry. Guided by Colonel Thorneycroft theforce made its way successfully up the southern spur of the mountain, over most difficult and dangerous ground, and surprised the Boersguarding the entrenchments on the summit. At three o'clock thoselistening in the plain heard the sudden outburst of musketry, followedby the loud cheers of the troops, and knew that the position had beencarried. Ten soldiers were killed and wounded in the firing. Six Boersperished by the bayonet. The force then proceeded to fortify itself, but the surface of the hill was extremely unsuited to defence. The rockswhich covered the summit made digging an impossibility, and werethemselves mostly too large to be built into sangars. Such cover, however, as had been made by the Boers was utilised and improved. 

Morning broke, and with it the attack. The enemy, realising the vitalimportance of the position, concentrated every man and gun at hisdisposal for its recapture. A fierce and furious shell fire was openedforthwith on the summit, causing immediate and continual loss. GeneralWoodgate was wounded, and the command devolved on a regimental officer, who, at half-past six, applied for reinforcements in a letter whichscarcely displayed that composure and determination necessary in such abloody debate. 

Sir Redvers Buller then took the extreme step of appointing MajorThorneycroft--already only a local lieutenant-colonel--localBrigadier-General commanding on the summit of Spion Kop. The ImperialLight Infantry, the Middlesex Regiment, and a little later theSomersets, from General Talbot Coke's Brigade, were ordered to reinforcethe defence, but General Coke was directed to remain below the summit ofthe hill, so that the fight might still be conducted by the bestfighting man. 

The Boers followed, and accompanied their shells by a vigorous rifleattack on the hill, and about half-past eight the position became mostcritical. The troops were driven almost entirely off the main plateauand the Boers succeeded in reoccupying some of their trenches. Afrightful disaster was narrowly averted. About twenty men in one of thecaptured trenches abandoned their resistance, threw up their hands, andcalled out that they would surrender. Colonel Thorneycroft, whose greatstature made him everywhere conspicuous, and who was from dawn till duskin the first firing line, rushed to the spot. The Boers advancing totake the prisoners--as at Nicholson's Nek--were scarcely thirty yardsaway. Thorneycroft shouted to the Boer leader: 'You may go to hell. Icommand on this hill and allow no surrender. Go on with your firing. 'Which latter they did with terrible effect, killing many. The survivors, with the rest of the firing line, fled two hundred yards, were ralliedby their indomitable commander, and, being reinforced by two bravecompanies of the Middlesex Regiment, charged back, recovering all lostground, and the position was maintained until nightfall. No words inthese days of extravagant expression can do justice to the gloriousendurance which the English regiments--for they were allEnglish--displayed throughout the long dragging hours of hell fire. Between three and four o'clock the shells were falling on the hill fromboth sides, as I counted, at the rate of seven a minute, and the strangedischarges of the Maxim shell guns--the 'pom-poms' as these terribleengines are called for want of a correct name--lacerated the hillsideswith dotted chains of smoke and dust. A thick and continual stream ofwounded flowed rearwards. A village of ambulance waggons grew up at thefoot of the mountain. The dead and injured, smashed and broken by theshells, littered the summit till it was a bloody, reeking shambles. Thirst tormented the soldiers, for though water was at hand the fightwas too close and furious to give even a moment's breathing space. Butnothing could weaken the stubborn vigour of the defence. The DorsetRegiment--the last of Talbot Coke's Brigade--was ordered to support thestruggling troops. The gallant Lyttelton of his own accord sent theScottish Rifles and the 3rd King's Royal Rifles from Potgieter's to aidthem. But though their splendid attack did not help the main action;though the British artillery, unable to find or reach the enemy's guns, could only tear up the ground in impotent fury; though the shell fireand rifle fire never ceased for an instant--the magnificent infantrymaintained the defence, and night closed in with the British still inpossession of the hill. 

I find it convenient, and perhaps the reader will allow me, to breakinto a more personal account of what followed. It drove us all mad towatch idly in camp the horrible shelling that was directed on thecaptured position, and at about four o'clock I rode with Captain R. Brooke, 7th Hussars, to Spion Kop, to find out what the true situationwas. We passed through the ambulance village, and leaving our horsesclimbed up the spur. Streams of wounded met us and obstructed the path. Men were staggering along alone, or supported by comrades, or crawlingon hands and knees, or carried on stretchers. Corpses lay here andthere. Many of the wounds were of a horrible nature. The splinters andfragments of the shell had torn and mutilated in the most ghastlymanner. I passed about two hundred while I was climbing up. There was, moreover, a small but steady leakage of unwounded men of all corps. Someof these cursed and swore. Others were utterly exhausted and fell on thehillside in stupor. Others again seemed drunk, though they had had noliquor. Scores were sleeping heavily. Fighting was still proceeding, andstray bullets struck all over the ground, while the Maxim shell gunsscourged the flanks of the hill and the sheltering infantry at regularintervals of a minute. The 3rd King's Royal Rifles were out of reach. The Dorset Regiment was the only battalion not thrown into the fight, and intact as an effective unit. 

I had seen some service and Captain Brooke has been through morefighting than any other officer of late years. We were so profoundlyimpressed by the spectacle and situation that we resolved to go and tellSir Charles Warren what we had seen. The fight had been so close that noproper reports had been sent to the General, so he listened with greatpatience and attention. One thing was quite clear--unless good andefficient cover could be made during the night, and unless guns could bedragged to the summit of the hill to match the Boer artillery, theinfantry could not, perhaps would not, endure another day. The humanmachine will not stand certain strains for long. 

The questions were, could guns be brought up the hill; and, if so, couldthe troops maintain themselves? The artillery officers had examined thetrack. They said 'No, ' and that even if they could reach the top of thehill they would only be shot out of action. Two long-range naval12-pounders, much heavier than the field-guns, had arrived. The navallieutenant in charge said he could go anywhere, or would have a try anyway. He was quite sure that if he could get on the top of the hill hewould knock out the Boer guns or be knocked out by them, and that waswhat he wanted to find out. I do not believe that the attempt would havesucceeded, or that the guns could have been in position by daylight, butthe contrast in spirit was very refreshing. 

Another informal council of war was called. Sir Charles Warren wanted toknow Colonel Thorneycroft's views. I was sent to obtain them. Thedarkness was intense. The track stony and uneven. It was hopelesslycongested with ambulances, stragglers, and wounded men. I soon had toleave my horse, and then toiled upwards, finding everywhere streams ofmen winding about the almost precipitous sides of the mountain, and anintermittent crackle of musketry at the top. Only one solid battalionremained--the Dorsets. All the others were intermingled. Officers hadcollected little parties, companies and half-companies; here and therelarger bodies had formed, but there was no possibility, in the darkness, of gripping anybody or anything. Yet it must not be imagined that theinfantry were demoralised. Stragglers and weaklings there were inplenty. But the mass of the soldiers were determined men. One man Ifound dragging down a box of ammunition quite by himself. 'To dosomething, ' he said. A sergeant with twenty men formed up was inquiringwhat troops were to hold the position. Regimental officers everywherecool and cheery, each with a little group of men around him, all full offight and energy. But the darkness and the broken ground paralysedeveryone. 

I found Colonel Thorneycroft at the top of the mountain. Everyone seemedto know, even in the confusion, where he was. He was sitting on theground surrounded by the remnants of the regiment he had raised, whohad fought for him like lions and followed him like dogs. I explainedthe situation as I had been told and as I thought. Naval guns wereprepared to try, sappers and working parties were already on the roadwith thousands of sandbags. What did he think? But the decision hadalready been taken. He had never received any messages from the General, had not had time to write any. Messages had been sent him, he had wantedto send others himself. The fight had been too hot, too close, toointerlaced for him to attend to anything, but to support this company, clear those rocks, or line that trench. So, having heard nothing andexpecting no guns, he had decided to retire. As he put it tersely:'Better six good battalions safely down the hill than a mop up in themorning. ' Then we came home, drawing down our rearguard after us veryslowly and carefully, and as the ground grew more level the regimentsbegan to form again into their old solid blocks. 

Such was the fifth of the series of actions called the Battle of SpionKop. It is an event which the British people may regard with feelingsof equal pride and sadness. It redounds to the honour of the soldiers, though not greatly to that of the generals. But when all that will bewritten about this has been written, and all the bitter words have beensaid by the people who never do anything themselves, the wise and justcitizen will remember that these same generals are, after all, brave, capable, noble English gentlemen, trying their best to carry through atask which may prove to be impossible, and is certainly the hardest everset to men. 

The Lancashire Fusiliers, the Imperial Light Infantry--whose baptism offire it was--Thorneycroft's, and the Middlesex Regiment sustained thegreater part of the losses. 

We will have another try, and, if it pleases God, do better next time. 

CHAPTER XVIII

THROUGH THE FIVE DAYS' ACTION

Venter's Spruit: January 25, 1900. 

The importance of giving a general and comprehensive account of the lateactions around and on Spion Kop prevented me from describing its scenesand incidents. Events, like gentlemen at a levee, in these exciting daystread so closely on each other's heels that many pass unnoticed, andmost can only claim the scantiest attention. But I will pick from thehurrying procession a few--distinguished for no other reason than thatthey have caught my eye--and from their quality the reader may judge ofthe rest. 

The morning of the 20th discovered the cavalry still encamped behind thehills near the Acton Homes road, on which they had surprised the Boerstwo days before. The loud and repeated discharge of the artilleryadvised us that the long-expected general action had begun. What partwere the cavalry to play? No orders had been sent to Lord Dundonaldexcept that he was to cover the left flank of the infantry. But thecavalry commander, no less than his brigade, proposed to interpret theseinstructions freely. Accordingly, at about half-past nine, the SouthAfrican Light Horse, two squadrons of the 13th Hussars, and a battery offour machine guns moved forward towards the line of heights along theedge and crest of which ran the Boer position with the intention ofdemonstrating against them, and the daring idea--somewhere in thebackground--of attacking and seizing one prominent feature which juttedout into the plain, and which, from its boldness and shape, we hadchristened 'Bastion Hill. ' The composite regiment, who watched theextreme left, were directed to support us if all was clear in theirfront at one o'clock, and Thorneycroft's Mounted Infantry, who kepttouch between the main cavalry force and the infantry left flank, hadsimilar orders to co-operate. 

At ten o'clock Lord Dundonald ordered the South African Light Horse toadvance against Bastion Hill. If the resistance was severe they were notto press the attack, but to content themselves with a musketrydemonstration. If, however, they found it convenient to get on they wereto do so as far as they liked. Colonel Byng thereon sent two squadronsunder Major Childe to advance, dismounted frontally on the hill, andproposed to cover their movements by the fire of the other twosquadrons, who were to gallop to the shelter of a wood and creep thenceup the various dongas to within effective range. 

Major Childe accepted his orders with alacrity, and started forth onwhat seemed, as I watched from a grassy ridge, a most desperateenterprise. The dark brown mass of Bastion Hill appeared to dominate theplain. On its crest the figures of the Boers could be seen frequentlymoving about. Other spurs to either flanks looked as if they affordedfacilities for cross fire. And to capture this formidable position wecould dismount only about a hundred and fifty men; and had, moreover, noartillery support of any kind. Yet as one examined the hill it becameevident that its strength was apparent rather than real. Its slopes wereso steep that they presented no good field of fire. Its crest was aconvex curve, over and down which the defenders must advance before theycould command the approaches, and when so advanced they would be exposedwithout shelter of any kind to the fire of the covering troops. Thesalient was so prominent and jutted out so far from the general line ofhills, and was besides shaped so like a blunted redan, that its frontface was secure from flanking fire. In fact there was plenty of deadground in its approaches, and, moreover, dongas--which are the same asnullahs in India or gullies in Australia--ran agreeably to our wishestowards the hill in all directions. When first we had seen the hillthree days before we had selected it as a weak point in the Dutch line. It afterwards proved that the Boers had no illusions as to its strengthand had made their arrangements accordingly. 

So soon as the dismounted squadrons had begun their advance, ColonelByng led the two who were to cover it forward. The wood we were to reachand find shelter in was about a thousand yards distant, and had beenreported unoccupied by the Boers, who indeed confined themselvesstrictly to the hills after their rough handling on the 18th by thecavalry. We moved off at a walk, spreading into a wide open order, aswise colonial cavalry always do. And it was fortunate that our formationwas a dispersed one, for no sooner had we moved into the open groundthan there was the flash of a gun faraway among the hills to thewestward. I had had some experience of artillery fire in the armouredtrain episode, but there the guns were firing at such close quartersthat the report of the discharge and the explosion of the shell werealmost simultaneous. Nor had I ever heard the menacing hissing roarwhich heralds the approach of a long-range projectile. It came swiftly, passed overhead with a sound like the rending of thin sheets of iron, and burst with a rather dull explosion in the ground a hundred yardsbehind the squadrons, throwing up smoke and clods of earth. We brokeinto a gallop, and moved in curving course towards the wood. I supposewe were a target a hundred yards broad by a hundred and fifty deep. Therange was not less than seven thousand yards, and we were at the gallop. Think of this, Inspector-General of Artillery: the Boer gunners firedten or eleven shells, every one of which fell among or within a hundredyards of our ranks. Between us and the wood ran a deep donga with ariver only fordable in places flowing through it. Some confusionoccurred in crossing this, but at last the whole regiment was across, and found shelter from the terrible gun--perhaps there were two--on thefurther bank. Thanks to our dispersed formation only two horses had beenkilled, and it was possible to admire without having to deplore theskill of the artillerists who could make such beautiful practice atsuch a range. 

Colonel Byng thought it advisable to leave the horses in the cover ofthe protecting river bank, and we therefore pushed on, dismounted, and, straggling through the high maize crop without presenting any target tothe guns, reached the wood safely. Through this we hurried as far as itsfurther edge. Here the riflemen on the hill opened with long-range fire. It was only a hundred yards into the donga, and the troopers immediatelybegan running across in twos and threes. In the irregular corps allappearances are sacrificed to the main object of getting where you wantto without being hurt. No one was hurt. 

Colonel Byng made his way along the donga to within about twelve orfourteen hundred yards, and from excellent cover opened fire on theBoers holding the summit of the hill. A long musketry duel ensuedwithout any loss to our side, and with probably no more to the enemy. The colonial troopers, as wary as the Dutch, showed very little toshoot at, so that, though there were plenty of bullets, there was nobloodshed. Regular infantry would probably have lost thirty or fortymen. 

I went back for machine guns, and about half an hour later they werebrought into action at the edge of the wood. Boers on the sky-line attwo thousand yards--tat-tat-tat-tat-tat half a dozen times repeated;Boers galloping to cover; one--yes, by Jupiter!--one on his back on thegrass; after that no more targets to shoot at; continuous searching ofthe sky-line, however, on the chance of killing someone, and, in anycase, to support the frontal attack. We had altogether three guns--the13th Hussars' Maxim under Lieutenant Clutterbuck, detached from the 4thHussars; one of Lord Dundonald's battery of Colts under Mr. Hill, who isa member of Parliament, and guides the majestic course of Empire besidesmanaging machine guns; and our own Maxim, all under Major Villiers. 

These three machines set up a most exhilarating splutter, flaring andcrackling all along the edge of the wood, and even attracted theattention of the Boers. All of a sudden there was a furious rush androar overhead; two or three little cassarina trees and a shower ofbranches fell to the ground. What on earth could this be? The mainaction was crashing away on the right. Evidently a shell had passed afew feet over our heads, but was it from our guns shelling the hills infront, or from the enemy? In another minute the question was answered byanother shell. It was our old friend the gun to the westward, who, irritated by the noisy Maxims, had resolved to put his foot down. Whizz!Bang! came a third shot, exploding among the branches just behind theColt gun, to the great delight of Mr. Hill, who secured a large fragmentwhich I have advised him to lay on the table in the smoking-room of theHouse for the gratification, instruction, and diversion of otherhonourable members. The next shell smashed through the roof of afarmhouse which stood at the corner of the wood, and near which twotroops of the 13th Hussars, who were escorting the Maxims and watchingthe flanks, had left their led horses. The next, in quick succession, fell right among them, killing one, but luckily, very luckily, failed toburst. The officer then decided to move the horses to a safer place. Thetwo troops mounted and galloped off. They were a tiny target, only amoving speck across the plain. But the Boer gunners threw a shell withina yard of the first troop leader. All this at seven thousand yards!English artillery experts, please note and if possible copy. 

While these things were passing the advancing squadrons had begun toclimb the hill, and found to their astonishment that they were scarcelyfired at. It was of great importance, however, that the Boers should becleared from the summit by the Maxim fire, and lest this should bediverted on our own men by mistake I left the wood for the purpose ofsignalling back how far the advance had proceeded and up to what pointthe guns could safely fire. The ground was broken; the distanceconsiderable. Before I reached the hill the situation had changed. Theenemy's artillery had persuaded the Maxims that they would do better tobe quiet--at any rate until they could see something to shoot at. MajorChilde had reached the top of the hill, one man of his squadron, tenminutes in front of anyone else, waving his hat on his rifle at thesummit to the admiration of thousands of the infantry, all of whom sawthis act of conspicuous recklessness and rejoiced. Lord Dundonald hadgalloped up to support the attack with Thorneycroft's Mounted Infantryand the rest of the 13th Hussars. We, the South African Light Horse, hadtaken Bastion Hill. 

To advance further forward, however, proved quite impossible. The Boershad withdrawn to a second position a thousand yards in rear of the topof the hill. From this they directed a most accurate and damnable fireon all who showed themselves on the plateau. Beneath the crest one satin safety and listened to the swish of bullets passing overhead. Above, the men were content to lie quite still underneath the rocks and waitfor darkness. I had a message for Major Childe and found him sitting onthis dangerous ground, partly sheltered by a large rock--a serene oldgentleman, exhausted with his climb, justly proud of its brilliantsuccess. 

I found no reason to remain very long on the plateau, and had justreturned to the Brigadier when the Boer guns began to shell the tip ofthe hill. The first two or three projectiles skimmed over the surface, and roared harmlessly away. But the Boers were not long in strikingtheir mark. Two percussion shells burst on the exposed side of the hill, and then a well-exploded shrapnel searched its summit, searched andfound what it sought. Major Childe was instantly killed by a fragmentthat entered his brain, and half a dozen troopers were more or lessseriously wounded. After that, as if satisfied, the enemy's gun turnedits attention elsewhere. 

I think this death of Major Childe was a very sad event even among theinevitable incidents of war. He had served many-years ago in the Blues, and since then a connection with the Turf had made him not unknown andwell liked in sporting circles. Old and grey as he was, the call to armshad drawn him from home, and wife, and comfort, as it is drawing many ofall ages and fortunes now. And so he was killed in his first fightagainst the Boers after he had performed an exploit--his first and lastin war--which would most certainly have brought him honourabledistinction. He had a queer presentiment of impending fate, for he hadspoken a good deal to us of the chances of death, and had even selectedhis own epitaph, so that on the little wooden cross which stands at thefoot of Bastion Hill--the hill he himself took and held--there iswritten: 'Is it well with the child? It is well!'

The coign of vantage which I found on the side of the hill was not onlyto a great extent sheltered from the bullets, but afforded an extensiveview of the general action, and for the rest of the day I remained withLord Dundonald watching its development. But a modern action is verydisappointing as a spectacle. There is no smoke except that of thebursting shells. The combatants are scattered, spread over a greatexpanse of ground, concealed wherever possible, clad in neutral tint. 

All the pomp and magnificence of Omdurman, the solid lines of infantry, the mighty Dervish array, bright with flashing spears and waving flags, were excluded. Rows of tiny dots hurried forward a few yards andvanished into the brown of the earth. Bunches and clusters of brownthings huddled among the rocks or in sheltered spots. The six batteriesof artillery unlimbered, and the horses, hidden in some safe place, werescarcely visible. 

Once I saw in miniature through glasses a great wave of infantry surgeforward along a spur and disappear beyond a crest line. The patter ofthe Mauser rifles swelled into a continuous rumbling like a train ofwaggons passing over a pontoon bridge, and presently the wave recoiled;the minute figures that composed it squeezed themselves into coveramong some rocks, a great many groups of men began carrying away blackobjects. A trickle of independent dots dispersed itself. Then wegroaned. There had been a check. The distant drama continued. Thehuddling figures began to move again--lithe, active forms moved aboutrearranging things--officers, we knew, even at the distance. Then thewhole wave started again full of impetus--started--went forward, andnever came back. And at this we were all delighted, and praised thevalour of our unequalled infantry, and wished we were near enough togive them a cheer. 

So we watched until nightfall, when some companies of the Queen's, fromGeneral Hildyard's Brigade, arrived, and took over the charge of ourhill from us, and we descended to get our horses, and perhaps some food, finding, by good luck, all we wanted, and lay down on the ground tosleep, quite contented with ourselves and the general progress of thearmy. 

The action of the 21st had begun before I awoke, and a brisk fusilladewas going on all along the line. This day the right attack stood still, or nearly so, and the activity was confined to the left, where GeneralHildyard, with five battalions and two batteries, skilfully felt andtested the enemy's positions and found them most unpleasantly strong. The main difficulty was that our guns could not come into action tosmash the enemy in his trenches without coming under his rifle fire, because the edge of the plateau was only a thousand yards from thesecond and main Boer position, and unless the guns were on the edge ofthe plateau they could see very little and do less. The cavalry guardedthe left flank passively, and I remember no particular incident exceptthat our own artillery flung the fragments of two premature shells amongus and wounded a soldier in the Devonshire Regiment. The following fact, however, is instructive. Captain Stewart's squadron of the South AfricanLight Horse dismounted, held an advanced kopje all day long under aheavy fire, and never lost a man. Two hundred yards further back wasanother kopje held by two companies of regular infantry under equalfire. The infantry had more than twenty men hit. 

On the 22nd the action languished and the generals consulted. Theinfantry had made themselves masters of all the edge of the plateau, andthe regiments clustered in the steep re-entrants like flies on the sideof a wall. The Boers endeavoured to reach them with shells, and adesultory musketry duel also proceeded. 

During the afternoon I went with Captain Brooke to visit some of thebattalions of General Hart's Brigade and see what sort of punishmentthey were receiving. As we rode up the watercourse which marks thebottom of the valley a shrapnel shell cleared the western crest line andexploded among one of the battalions. At first it seemed to have done noharm, but as we climbed higher and nearer we met a stretcher carried bysix soldiers. On it lay a body with a handkerchief thrown across theface. The soldiers bearing the stretcher were all covered with blood. 

We proceeded and soon reached the battalions. A company of the DublinFusiliers were among those captured in the armoured train, and I havethe pleasure of knowing most of the officers of this regiment. So wevisited them first--a dozen gentlemen--begrimed, unwashed, unshaven, sitting on the hillside behind a two-foot wall of rough stones and neara wooden box, which they called the 'Officers' Mess. ' They were incapital spirits in spite of every abominable circumstance. 

'What did you lose in the action?'

'Oh, about fifty. Poor Hensley was killed, you know; that was the worstof it. '

Captain Hensley was one of the smallest and bravest men in the Army, andthe Dublin Fusiliers, who should be good judges, regarded him as theirvery best officer for all military affairs, whether attack, retreat, orreconnaissance. Each had lost a friend, but collectively as a regimentthey had lost a powerful weapon. 

'Very few of us left now, ' said the colonel, surveying his regiment withpride. 

'How many?'

'About four hundred and fifty. '

'Out of a thousand?'

'Well, out of about nine hundred. '

This war has fallen heavily on some regiments. Scarcely any has sufferedmore severely, none has won greater distinction, than the DublinFusiliers--everywhere at the front--Dundee, Lombard's Kop, Colenso, Chieveley, Colenso again, and even here at Spion Kop. Half the regiment, more than half the officers killed or wounded or prisoners. 

But the survivors were as cheery as ever. 

'Do these shells catch anyone?'

'Only two or three an hour. They don't come always: every half-hour weget half a dozen. That last one killed an officer in the next regiment. Rather bad luck, picking an officer out of all these men--only onekilled to-day so far, a dozen wounded. '

I inquired how much more time remained before the next consignment ofshells was due. They said about ten minutes. I thought that would justsuit me, and bade them good morning, for I have a horror of being killedwhen not on duty; but Captain Brooke was anxious to climb to the top andexamine the Boer position, and since we had come so far it was perhapsworth while going on. So we did, and with great punctuality the shellsarrived. 

We were talking to the officers of another regiment when they began. Twocame in quick succession over the eastern wall of the valley and thenone over the western. All three burst--two on impact, one in the air. Afourth ripped along a stone shelter behind which skirmishers werefiring. A fifth missed the valley altogether and screeched away into theplain clear of the hills. The officers and men were quite callous. Theyscarcely troubled to look up. The soldiers went on smoking or playingcards or sleeping as if nothing had happened. Personally I felt noinclination to any of these pursuits, and I thought to sit and waitindefinitely, for the caprice of one of these shrieking iron devilswould be most trying to anyone. But apparently you can get accustomedto anything. The regiment where the officer had been killed a fewminutes before was less cheerful and callous. The little group ofofficers crouching in the scanty shelter had seen one of their numberplucked out of their midst and slain--uselessly as it seemed. Theyadvised us to take cover, which we would gladly have done had there beenany worth speaking of; for at this moment the Boers discharged theirVickers-Maxim gun--the 'pom-pom'--and I have never heard such anextraordinary noise. Seven or eight bangs, a rattle, an amazingcluttering and whistling overhead, then the explosions of the littleshells, which scarred the opposite hillside in a long row of puffs ofbrown dust and blue-white smoke, suggesting a lash from a knottedscourge. 

'Look out!' we were told, 'they always follow that with a shell. ' And sothey did, but it passed overhead without harming anyone. Again theVickers-Maxim flung its covey of projectiles. Again we crouched for thefollowing shell; but this time it did not come--immediately. I had seenquite enough, however, so we bade our friends good luck--never good-byeon active service--and hurried, slowly, on account of appearances, fromthis unhealthy valley. As we reached our horses I saw another shellburst among the infantry. After that there was another interval. Furtheron we met a group of soldiers returning to their regiment One lad ofabout nineteen was munching a biscuit. His right trouser leg was soakedwith blood, I asked whether he was wounded. 'No, sir; it's only bloodfrom an officer's head, ' he answered, and went on--eating his biscuit. Such were the fortunes for four days of the two brigades formingWarren's left attack. 

I have already written a general account of the final action of SpionKop on January 24, and have little to add. As soon as the news spreadthrough the camps that the British troops were occupying the top of themountain I hurried to Gun Hill, where the batteries were arrayed, andwatched the fight from a flank. The spectacle was inconsiderable butsignificant. It was like a shadow peep-show. Along the mighty profile ofthe hill a fringe of little black crotchets advanced. Then there werebrown and red smudges of dust from shells striking the ground and whitepuffs from shrapnel bursting in the air--variations from the black andwhite. Presently a stretcher borne by five tiny figures jerks slowlyforward, silhouetted on the sky-line; more shells; back goes thestretcher laden, a thicker horizontal line than before. Then--a rush ofcrotchets rearwards--one leading two mules, mules terrified, jibbing, hanging back--all in silhouette one moment, the next all smudged withdust cloud; God help the driver; shadows clear again; driver stilldragging mules--no, only one mule now; other figures still runningrearwards. Suddenly reinforcements arrive, hundreds of them; the wholesky-line bristles with crotchets moving swiftly along it, bendingforward almost double, as if driving through a hailstorm. Thank heavenfor that--only just in time too--and then more smudges on the shadowscreen. 

Sir Charles Warren was standing near me with his staff. One of hisofficers came up and told me that they had been disturbed at breakfastby a Boer shell, which had crashed through their waggon, killing aservant and a horse. Presently the General himself saw me. I inquiredabout the situation, and learned for the first time of GeneralWoodgate's wound--death it was then reported--and that Thorneycroft hadbeen appointed brigadier-general. 'We have put what we think is the bestfighting man in command regardless of seniority. We shall support him ashe may request. We can do no more. '

I will only relate one other incident--a miserable one. The day beforethe attack on Spion Kop I had chanced to ride across the pontoon bridge. I heard my name called, and saw the cheery face of a boy I had known atHarrow--a smart, clean-looking young gentleman--quite the rough materialfor Irregular Horse. He had just arrived and pushed his way to thefront; hoped, so he said, 'to get a job. ' This morning they told methat an unauthorised Press correspondent had been found among the killedon the summit. At least they thought at first it was a Presscorrespondent, for no one seemed to know him. A man had been foundleaning forward on his rifle, dead. A broken pair of field glasses, shattered by the same shell that had killed their owner, bore the name'M'Corquodale. ' The name and the face flew together in my mind. It wasthe last joined subaltern of Thorneycroft's Mounted Infantry--joined inthe evening shot at dawn. 

Poor gallant young Englishman! he had soon 'got his job. ' The greatsacrifice had been required of the Queen's latest recruit. 

CHAPTER XIX

A FRESH EFFORT AND AN ARMY CHAPLAIN

Spearman's Hill: February 4, 1900

The first gleams of daylight crept underneath the waggon, and thesleepers, closely packed for shelter from the rain showers, awoke. Thosewho live under the conditions of a civilised city, who lie abed tillnine and ten of the clock in artificially darkened rooms, gain luxury atthe expense of joy. But the soldier, who fares simply, sleeps soundly, and rises with the morning star, wakes in an elation of body and spiritwithout an effort and with scarcely a yawn. There is no more deliciousmoment in the day than this, when we light the fire and, while thekettle boils, watch the dark shadows of the hills take form, perspective, and finally colour, knowing that there is another whole daybegun, bright with chance and interest, and free from all cares. Allcares--for who can be worried about the little matters of humdrum lifewhen he may be dead before the night? Such a one was with usyesterday--see, there is a spare mug for coffee in the mess--but nowgone for ever. And so it may be with us to-morrow. What does it matterthat this or that is misunderstood or perverted; that So-and-so isenvious and spiteful; that heavy difficulties obstruct the largerschemes of life, clogging nimble aspiration with the mud of matters offact? Here life itself, life at its best and healthiest, awaits thecaprice of the bullet. Let us see the development of the day. All elsemay stand over, perhaps for ever. Existence is never so sweet as when itis at hazard. The bright butterfly flutters in the sunshine, theexpression of the philosophy of Omar Khayyám, without the potations. 

But we awoke on the morning of the 25th in most gloomy spirits. I hadseen the evacuation of Spion Kop during the night, and I did not doubtthat it would be followed by the abandonment of all efforts to turn theBoer left from the passages of the Tugela at and near Trichardt'sDrift. Nor were these forebodings wrong. Before the sun was fairly risenorders arrived, 'All baggage to move east of Venter's Spruitimmediately. Troops to be ready to turn out at thirty minutes' notice. 'General retreat, that was their meaning. Buller was withdrawing histrain as a preliminary to disengaging, if he could, the fightingbrigades, and retiring across the river. Buller! So it was no longerWarren! The Commander-in-Chief had arrived, in the hour of misfortune, to take all responsibility for what had befallen the army, to extricateit, if possible, from its position of peril, to encourage the soldiers, now a second time defeated without being beaten, to bear thedisappointment. Everyone knows how all this, that looked so difficult, was successfully accomplished. 

The army was irritated by the feeling that it had made sacrifices fornothing. It was puzzled and disappointed by failure which it did notadmit nor understand. The enemy were flushed with success. The opposinglines in many places were scarcely a thousand yards apart. As theinfantry retired the enemy would have commanding ground from which toassail them at every point. Behind flowed the Tugela, a deep, rapid, only occasionally fordable river, eighty-five yards broad, withprecipitous banks. We all prepared ourselves for a bloody and evendisastrous rearguard action. But now, I repeat, when things had come tothis pass, Buller took personal command. He arrived on the field calm, cheerful, inscrutable as ever, rode hither and thither with a wearystaff and a huge notebook, gripped the whole business in his stronghands, and so shook it into shape that we crossed the river in safety, comfort, and good order, with most remarkable mechanical precision, andwithout the loss of a single man or a pound of stores. 

The fighting troops stood fast for two days, while the train of waggonsstreamed back over the bridges and parked in huge black squares on thesouthern bank. Then, on the night of the 26th, the retreat began. It waspitch dark, and a driving rain veiled all lights. The ground wasbroken. The enemy near. It is scarcely possible to imagine a moredifficult operation. But it was performed with amazing ease. Buller himself--not Buller by proxy or Buller at the end of aheliograph--Buller himself managed it. He was the man who gave orders, the man whom the soldiers looked to. He had already transported histrain. At dusk he passed the Royals over the ford. By ten o'clock allhis cavalry and guns were across the pontoon bridges. At ten he begandisengaging his infantry, and by daylight the army stood in order on thesouthern bank. While the sappers began to take the pontoon bridges topieces the Boers, who must have been astonished by the unusual rapidityof the movement, fired their first shell at the crossing. We were overthe river none too soon. 

A successful retreat is a poor thing for a relieving army to boast ofwhen their gallant friends are hard pressed and worn out. But thiswithdrawal showed that this force possesses both a leader and machineryof organisation, and it is this, and this alone, that has preserved ourconfidence. We believe that Buller gauged the capacity of onesubordinate at Colenso, of another at Spion Kop, and that now he will dothings himself, as he was meant to do. I know not why he has waited solong. Probably some pedantic principle of military etiquette:'Commander-in-Chief should occupy a central position; turning movementsshould be directed by subordinates. ' But the army believes that this isall over now, and that for the future Buller will trust no one buthimself in great matters; and it is because they believe this that thesoldiers are looking forward with confidence and eagerness to the thirdand last attempt--for the sands at Ladysmith have run down very low--toshatter the Boer lines. 

We have waited a week in the camp behind Spearman's Hill. The Generalhas addressed the troops himself. He has promised that we shall be inLadysmith soon. To replace the sixteen hundred killed and wounded in thelate actions, drafts of twenty-four hundred men have arrived. Amountain battery, A Battery R. H. A. , and two great fortress guns havestrengthened the artillery. Two squadrons of the 14th Hussars have beenadded to the cavalry, so that we are actually to-day numericallystronger by more than a thousand men than when we fought at Spion Kop, while the Boers are at least five hundred weaker--attrition _versus_recuperation. Everyone has been well fed, reinforced and inspirited, andall are prepared for a supreme effort, in which we shall either reachLadysmith or be flung back truly beaten with a loss of six or seventhousand men. 

I will not try to foreshadow the line of attack, though certainmovements appear to indicate where it will be directed. But it isgenerally believed that we fight to-morrow at dawn, and as I write thisletter seventy guns are drawing up in line on the hills to open thepreparatory bombardment. 

It is a solemn Sunday, and the camp, with its white tents looking snugand peaceful in the sunlight, holds its breath that the beating of itsheart may not be heard. On such a day as this the services of religionwould appeal with passionate force to thousands. I attended a churchparade this morning. What a chance this was for a man of great soul whofeared God! On every side were drawn up deep masses of soldiery, rankbehind rank--perhaps, in all, five thousand. In the hollow square stoodthe General, the man on whom everything depended. All around were menwho within the week had been face to face with Death, and were going toface him again in a few hours. Life seemed very precarious, in spite ofthe sunlit landscape. What was it all for? What was the good of humaneffort? How should it befall a man who died in a quarrel he did notunderstand? All the anxious questionings of weak spirits. It was one ofthose occasions when a fine preacher might have given comfort andstrength where both were sorely needed, and have printed on many minds apermanent impression. The bridegroom Opportunity had come. But theChurch had her lamp untrimmed. A chaplain with a raucous voicediscoursed on the details of 'The siege and surrender of Jericho. ' Thesoldiers froze into apathy, and after a while the formal perfunctoryservice reached its welcome conclusion. 

As I marched home an officer said to me: 'Why is it, when the Churchspends so much on missionary work among heathens, she does not take thetrouble to send good men to preach in time of war? The medicalprofession is represented by some of its greatest exponents. Why aremen's wounded souls left to the care of a village practitioner?' Norcould I answer; but I remembered the venerable figure and noblecharacter of Father Brindle in the River War, and wondered whether Romewas again seizing the opportunity which Canterbury disdained--theopportunity of telling the glad tidings to soldiers about to die. 

CHAPTER XX

THE COMBAT OF VAAL KRANTZ

General Buller's Headquarters: February 9, 1900. 

During the ten days that passed peacefully after the British retreatfrom the positions beyond Trichardt's Drift, Sir Redvers Buller's forcewas strengthened by the arrival of a battery of Horse Artillery, twopowerful siege guns, two squadrons of the 14th Hussars, and drafts forthe Infantry battalions, amounting to 2, 400 men. Thus not only was theloss of 1, 600 men in the five days' fighting round Spion Kop made good, but the army was actually a thousand stronger than before its repulse. Good and plentiful rations of meat and vegetables were given to thetroops, and their spirits were restored by the General's publicdeclaration that he had discovered the key to the enemy's position, andthe promise that within a week from the beginning of the impendingoperation Ladysmith should be relieved. The account of the straits towhich the gallant garrison was now reduced by famine, disease, and warincreased the earnest desire of officers and men to engage the enemyand, even at the greatest price, to break his lines. In spite of thevarious inexplicable features which the actions of Colenso and Spion Koppresented, the confidence of the army in Sir Redvers Buller was stillfirm, and the knowledge that he himself would personally direct theoperations, instead of leaving their conduct to a divisional commander, gave general satisfaction and relief. 

On the afternoon of February 4 the superior officers were madeacquainted with the outlines of the plan of action to be followed. Thereader will, perhaps, remember the description in a former letter of theBoer position before Potgieter's and Trichardt's Drift as a horizontalnote of interrogation, of which Spion Kop formed the centre angle--/\. The fighting of the previous week had been directed towards thestraight line, and on the angle. The new operation was aimed at thecurve. The general scheme was to seize the hills which formed the leftof the enemy's position and roll him up from left to right. It was knownthat the Boers were massed mainly in their central camp behind SpionKop, and that, as no demonstration was intended against the position infront of Trichardt's Drift, their whole force would be occupying thecurve and guarding its right flank. The details of the plan were wellconceived. 

The battle would begin by a demonstration against the Brakfonteinposition, which the Boers had fortified by four tiers of trenches, withbombproof casemates, barbed wire entanglements, and a line of redoubts, so that it was obviously too strong to be carried frontally. Thisdemonstration would be made by Wynne's Brigade (formerly Woodgate's), supported by six batteries of Artillery, the Howitzer Battery, and thetwo 4. 7-inch naval guns. These troops crossed the river by the pontoonbridge at Potgieter's on the 3rd and 4th, relieving Lyttelton's Brigadewhich had been in occupation of the advanced position on the low kopjes. 

A new pontoon bridge was thrown at the angle of the river a mile belowPotgieter's, the purpose of which seemed to be to enable the frontalattack to be fully supported. While the Artillery preparation of theadvance against Brakfontein and Wynne's advance were going on, Clery'sDivision (consisting of Hart's Brigade and Hildyard's) and Lyttelton'sBrigade were to mass near the new pontoon bridge (No. 2), as if about tosupport the frontal movement. When the bombardment had been in progressfor two hours these three brigades were to move, not towards theBrakfontein position, but eastwards to Munger's Drift, throw a pontoonbridge covered first by one battery of Field Artillery withdrawn fromthe demonstration, secondly by the fire of guns which had been draggedto the summit of Swartkop, and which formed a powerful battery offourteen pieces, viz. , six 12-pounder long range naval guns, two15-pounder guns of the 64th Field Battery, six 9-pounder mountain guns, and lastly by the two 50-pounder siege guns. As soon as the bridge wascomplete Lyttelton's Brigade would cross, and, ignoring the fire fromthe Boer left, extended along the Doornkloof heights, attack the VaalKrantz ridge, which formed the left of the horseshoe curve around thedebouches of Potgieter's. This attack was to be covered on its right bythe guns already specified on Swartkop and the 64th Field Battery, andprepared by the six artillery batteries employed in the demonstration, which were to withdraw one by one at intervals of ten minutes, cross No. 2 pontoon bridge, and take up new positions opposite to the Vaal Krantzridge. 

If and when Vaal Krantz was captured all six batteries were to moveacross No. 3 bridge and take up positions on the hill, whence they couldprepare and support the further advance of Clery's Division, which, having crossed, was to move past Vaal Krantz, pivot to the left on it, and attack the Brakfontein position from its left flank. The 1stCavalry Brigade under Burn-Murdoch (Royals, 13th and 14th Hussars, and ABattery R. H. A. ) would also cross and run the gauntlet of Doornkloof andbreak out on to the plateau beyond Clery's Division. The 2nd CavalryBrigade (South African Light Horse, Composite Regiment, Thorneycroft's, and Bethune's Mounted Infantry, and the Colt Battery) were to guard theright and rear of the attacking troops from any attack coming fromDoornkloof. Wynne was to co-operate as opportunity offered. Talbot Cokewas to remain in reserve. Such was the plan, and it seemed to all whoheard it good and clear. It gave scope to the whole force, and seemed tooffer all the conditions for a decisive trial of strength between thetwo armies. 

On Sunday afternoon the Infantry Brigades began to move to theirrespective positions, and at daylight on the 5th the Cavalry Divisionbroke its camp behind spearman's. At nine minutes past seven hebombardment of the Brakfontein position began, and by half-past sevenall the Artillery except the Swartkop guns were firing in a leisurelyfashion at the Boer redoubts and entrenchments. At the same time Wynne'sBrigade moved forward in dispersed formation towards the enemy, and theCavalry began to defile across the front and to mass near the threeInfantry Brigades collected near No. 2 pontoon bridge. For some time theBoers made no reply, but at about ten o'clock their Vickers-Maxim openedon the batteries firing from the Potgieter's plain, and the firegradually increased as other guns, some of great range, joined in, untilthe Artillery was sharply engaged in an unsatisfactory duel--fifty gunsexposed in the open against six or seven guns concealed and impossibleto find. The Boer shells struck all along the advanced batteries, bursting between the guns, throwing up huge fountains of dust and smoke, and covering the gunners at times completely from view. Shrapnel shellswere also flung from both flanks and ripped the dusty plain with theirscattering bullets. But the Artillery stood to their work like men, andthough they apparently produced no impression on the Boer guns, did notsuffer as severely as might have been expected, losing no more thanfifteen officers and men altogether. At intervals of ten minutes thebatteries withdrew in beautiful order and ceremony and defiled acrossthe second pontoon bridge. Meanwhile Wynne's Brigade had advanced towithin twelve hundred yards of the Brakfontein position and retired, drawing the enemy's heavy fire; the three brigades under Clery had movedto the right near Munger's Drift; the Cavalry were massed in the hollowsat the foot of Swartkop; and the Engineers had constructed the thirdpontoon bridge, performing their business with excellent method anddespatch under a sharp fire from Boer skirmishers and a Maxim. 

The six batteries and the howitzers now took up positions opposite VaalKrantz, and seventy guns began to shell this ridge in regularpreparation and to reply to three Boer guns which had now opened fromDoornkloof and our extreme right. A loud and crashing cannonadedeveloped. At midday the Durham Light Infantry of Lyttelton's Brigadecrossed the third pontoon bridge and advanced briskly along the oppositebank on the Vaal Krantz ridge. They were supported by the 3rd King'sRoyal Rifles, and behind these the other two battalions of the Brigadestrengthened the attack. The troops moved across the open in fine style, paying no attention to the enemy's guns on Doornkloof, which burst theirshrapnel at seven thousand yards (shrapnel at seven thousand yards!)with remarkable accuracy. In an hour the leading companies had reachedthe foot of the ridge, and the active riflemen could be seen clamberingswiftly up. As the advance continued one of the Boer Vickers-Maxim gunswhich was posted in rear of Vaal Krantz found it wise to retire andgalloped off unscathed through a tremendous fire from our artillery: amost wonderful escape. 

The Durham Light Infantry carried the hill at the point of the bayonet, losing seven officers and sixty or seventy men, and capturing five Boerprisoners, besides ten horses and some wounded, Most of the enemy, however, had retired before the attack, unable to endure the appallingconcentration of artillery which had prepared it. Among those whoremained to fight to the last were five or six armed Kaffirs, one ofwhom shot an officer of the Durhams. To these no quarter was given. Their employment by the Dutch in this war shows that while theyfuriously complain of Khama's defence of his territory against theirraiding parties on the ground that white men must be killed by whitemen, they have themselves no such scruples. There is no possible doubtabout the facts set forth above, and the incident should be carefullynoted by the public. 

By nightfall the whole of General Lyttelton's Brigade had occupied VaalKrantz, and were entrenching themselves. The losses in the day'sfighting were not severe, and though no detailed statement has yet beencompiled, I do not think they exceeded one hundred and fifty. Part ofSir Redvers Buller's plan had been successfully executed. The fact thatthe action had not been opened until 7 A. M. And had been conducted in amost leisurely manner left the programme only half completed. Itremained to pass Clery's Division across the third bridge, to plant thebatteries in their new position on Vaal Krantz, to set free the 1stCavalry Brigade in the plain beyond, and to begin the main attack onBrakfontein. It remained and it still remains. 

During the night of the 5th Lyttelton's Brigade made shelters andtraverses of stones, and secured the possession of the hill; but it wasnow reported that field guns could not occupy the ridge because, first, it was too steep and rocky--though this condition does not apparentlyprevent the Boers dragging their heaviest guns to the tops of thehighest hills--and, secondly, because the enemy's long-range rifle firewas too heavy. The hill, therefore, which had been successfullycaptured, proved of no value whatever. Beyond it was a second positionwhich was of great strength, and which if it was ever to be taken mustbe taken by the Infantry without Artillery support. This was consideredimpossible or at any rate too costly and too dangerous to attempt. 

During the next day the Boers continued to bombard the captured ridge, and also maintained a harassing long-range musketry fire. A great gunfiring a hundred-pound 6-in. Shell came into action from the top ofDoornkloof, throwing its huge projectiles on Vaal Krantz and about thebivouacs generally; one of them exploded within a few yards of SirRedvers Buller. Two Vickers-Maxims from either side of the Boer positionfired at brief intervals, and other guns burst shrapnel effectively fromvery long range on the solitary brigade which held Vaal Krantz. To thisbombardment the Field Artillery and the naval guns--seventy-two piecesin all, both big and little--made a noisy but futile response. Theinfantry of Lyttelton's Brigade, however, endured patiently throughoutthe day, in spite of the galling cross-fire and severe losses. At aboutfour in the afternoon the Boers made a sudden attack on the hill, creeping to within short range, and then opened a quick fire. TheVickers-Maxim guns supported this vigorously. The pickets at the westernend of the hill were driven back with loss, and for a few minutes itappeared that the hill would be retaken. But General Lyttelton orderedhalf a battalion of the Durham Light Infantry, supported by the King'sRoyal Rifles, to clear the hill, and these fine troops, led by ColonelFitzgerald, rose up from their shelters and, giving three rousingcheers--the thin, distant sound of which came back to the anxious, watching army--swept the Boers back at the point of the bayonet. ColonelFitzgerald was, however, severely wounded. 

While these things were passing a new pontoon bridge was beingconstructed at a bend of the Tugela immediately under the Vaal Krantzridge, and by five o'clock this was finished. Nothing else was doneduring the day, but at nightfall Lyttelton's Brigade was relieved byHildyard's, which marched across the new pontoon (No. 4) under adesultory shell fire from an extreme range. Lyttelton's Brigade returnedunder cover of darkness to a bivouac underneath the Zwartkop guns. Their losses in the two days' operations had been 225 officers and men. 

General Hildyard, with whom was Prince Christian Victor, spent the nightin improving the defences of the hill and in building new traverses andhead cover. At midnight the Boers made a fresh effort to regain theposition, and the sudden roar of musketry awakened the sleeping army. The attack, however, was easily repulsed. At daybreak the shelling beganagain, only now the Boers had brought up several new guns, and thebombardment was much heavier. Owing, however, to the excellent coverwhich had been arranged the casualties during the day did not exceedforty. The Cavalry and Transport, who were sheltering in the hollowsunderneath Zwartkop, were also shelled, and it was thought desirable tomove them back to a safer position. 

In the evening Sir Redvers Buller, who throughout these two days hadbeen sitting under a tree in a somewhat exposed position, and who hadbivouacked with the troops, consulted with his generals. Many plans weresuggested, but there was a general consensus of opinion that it wasimpossible to advance further along this line. At eleven at nightHildyard's Brigade was withdrawn from Vaal Krantz, evacuating theposition in good order, and carrying with them their wounded, whom tilldark it had been impossible to collect. Orders were issued for thegeneral retirement of the army to Springfield and Spearman's, and by teno'clock on the 8th this operation was in full progress. 

With feelings of bitter disappointment at not having been permitted tofight the matter out, the Infantry, only two brigades of which had beensharply engaged, marched by various routes to their former campinggrounds, and only their perfect discipline enabled them to control theirgrief and anger. The Cavalry and Artillery followed in due course, andthus the fourth attempt to relieve Ladysmith, which had been begun withsuch hopes and enthusiasm, fizzled out into failure. It must not, however, be imagined that the enemy conducted his defence withoutproportionate loss. 

What I have written is a plain record of facts, and I am so deeplyconscious of their significance that I shall attempt some explanation. 

The Boer covering army numbers at least 12, 000 men, with perhaps a dozenexcellent guns. They hold along the line of the Tugela what ispractically a continuous position of vast strength. Their superiormobility, and the fact that they occupy the chord, while we must movealong the arc of the circle, enables them to forefront us with nearlytheir whole force wherever an attack is aimed, however it may bedisguised. Therefore there is no way of avoiding a direct assault. Now, according to Continental experience the attacking force should outnumberthe defence by three to one. Therefore Sir Redvers Buller should have36, 000 men. Instead of this he has only 22, 000. Moreover, behind thefirst row of positions, which practically runs along the edge of anunbroken line of steep flat-topped hills, there is a second row standingback from the edge at no great distance. Any attack on this second rowthe Artillery cannot support, because from the plain below they are toofar off to find the Boer guns, and from the edge they are too close tothe enemy's riflemen. The ground is too broken, in the opinion of manygenerals, for night operations. Therefore the attacking Infantry ofinsufficient strength must face unaided the fire of cool, entrenchedriflemen, armed with magazine weapons and using smokeless powder. 

Nevertheless, so excellent is the quality of the Infantry that if thewhole force were launched in attack it is not impossible that they wouldcarry everything before them. But after this first victory it will benecessary to push on and attack the Boers investing Ladysmith. The lineof communications must be kept open behind the relieving army or it willbe itself in the most terrible danger. Already the Boers' positionbeyond Potgieter's laps around us on three sides. What if we shouldbreak through, only to have the door shut behind us? At least twobrigades would have to be left to hold the line of communications. Therest, weakened by several fierce and bloody engagements, would not bestrong enough to effect the relief. 

The idea of setting all on the turn of the battle is very grateful andpleasant to the mind of the army, which only asks for a decisive trialof strength, but Sir Redvers Buller has to remember that his army, besides being the Ladysmith Relief Column, is also the only force whichcan be spared to protect South Natal. Is he, therefore, justified inrunning the greatest risks? On the other hand, how can we let Ladysmithand all its gallant defenders fall into the hands of the enemy? It isagonising to contemplate such a conclusion to all the efforts andsacrifices that have been made. I believe and trust we shall try again. As long as there is fighting one does not reflect on this horriblesituation. I have tried to explain some of the difficulties whichconfront the General. I am not now concerned with the attempts thathave been made to overcome them. A great deal is incomprehensible, butit may be safely said that if Sir Redvers Buller cannot relieveLadysmith with his present force we do not know of any other officer inthe British Service who would be likely to succeed. 

CHAPTER XXI

HUSSAR HILL

[Illustration: Map of the Operations of the Natal Field Armyfrom January 11 to February 9. ]

General Buller's Headquarters: February 15, 1900. 

When Sir Redvers Buller broke off the combat of Vaal Krantz, and for thethird time ordered his unbeaten troops to retreat, it was clearlyunderstood that another attempt to penetrate the Boer lines was to bemade without delay. 

The army has moved from Spearman's and Springfield to Chieveley, GeneralLyttelton, who had succeeded Sir Francis Clery, in command of the 2ndDivision and 4th Brigade, marching via Pretorius's Farm on the 9th and10th, Sir Charles Warren covering the withdrawal of the supplies andtransport and following on the 10th and 11th. The regular CavalryBrigade, under Burn-Murdoch, was left with two battalions to hold thebridge at Springfield, beyond which place the Boers, who had crossed theTugela in some strength at Potgieter's, were reported to be showingconsiderable activity. The left flank of the marching Infantry columnswas covered by Dundonald's Brigade of Light Horse, and the operationswere performed without interruption from the enemy. On the 12th orderswere issued to reconnoitre Hussar Hill, a grassy and wooded eminencefour miles to the east of Chieveley, and the direction of the nextattack was revealed. The reader of the accounts of this war is probablyfamiliar with the Colenso position and understands its great strength. The proper left of this position rests on the rocky, scrub-covered hillof Hlangwani, which rises on the British side of the Tugela. If thishill can be captured and artillery placed on it, and if it can besecured from cross fire, then all the trenches of Fort Wylie and alongthe river bank will be completely enfiladed, and the Colenso positionwill become untenable, so that Hlangwani is the key of the Colensoposition. In order, however, to guard this key carefully the Boers haveextended their left--as at Trichardt's Drift they extended theirright--until it occupies a very lofty range of mountains four or fivemiles to the east of Hlangwani, and along all this front works have beenconstructed on a judicious system of defence. The long delays have givenample time to the enemy to complete his fortifications, and the trencheshere are more like forts than field works, being provided with overheadcover against shells and carefully made loopholes. In front of themstretches a bare slope, on either side rise formidable hills from whichlong-range guns can make a continual cross-fire. Behind this position, again, are others of great strength. 

But there are also encouraging considerations. We are to make--at leastin spite of disappointments we hope and believe we are to make--asupreme effort to relieve Ladysmith. At the same time we are the armyfor the defence of South Natal. If we had put the matter to the test atPotgieter's and failed, our line of communications might have been cutbehind us, and the whole army, weakened by the inevitable heavy lossesof attacking these great positions, might have been captured ordispersed. Here we have the railway behind us. We are not as we were atPotgieter's 'formed to a flank. ' We derive an accession of strength fromthe fact that the troops holding Railhead are now available for thegeneral action. 

Besides these inducements this road is the shortest way. Buller, therefore, has elected to lose his men and risk defeat--without whichrisk no victory can be won---on this line. Whether he will succeed ornot were foolish to prophesy, but it is the common belief that this lineoffers as good a chance as any other and that at last the army will begiven a fair run, and permitted to begin a general engagement and fightit out to the end. If Buller goes in and wins he will have accomplisheda wonderful feat of arms, and will gain the lasting honour and gratitudeof his country. If he is beaten he will deserve the respect and sympathyof all true soldiers as a man who has tried to the best of his abilityto perform a task for which his resources were inadequate. I hasten toreturn to the chronicle. Hussar Hill--so-called because a small post ofthe 13th Hussars was surprised on it six weeks ago and lost two menkilled--is the high ground opposite Hlangwani and the mountainous ridgescalled Monte Cristo and Cingolo, on which the Artillery must be postedto prepare the attack. Hence the reconnaissance of the 12th. 

At eight o'clock--we never get up early in this war--Lord Dundonaldstarted from the cavalry camp near Stuart's Farm with the South AfricanLight Horse, the Composite Regiment, Thorneycroft's Mounted Infantry, the Colt Battery, one battalion of Infantry, the Royal Welsh Fusiliers, and a battery of Field Artillery. The Irregular Horse were familiar withthe ground, and we soon occupied Hussar Hill, driving back a small Boerpatrol which was watching it, and wounding two of the enemy. A strongpicket line was thrown out all round the captured ground and a droppingmusketry fire began at long range with the Boers, who lay hidden in thesurrounding dongas. At noon Sir Redvers Buller arrived, and made aprolonged reconnaissance of the ground with his telescope. At oneo'clock we were ordered to withdraw, and the difficult task ofextricating the advanced pickets from close contact with the enemy wasperformed under a sharp fire, fortunately without the loss of a man. 

After you leave Hussar Hill on the way back to Chieveley camp it isnecessary to cross a wide dip of ground. We had withdrawn several milesin careful rearguard fashion, the guns and the battalion had gone back, and the last two squadrons were walking across this dip towards theridge on the homeward side. Perhaps we had not curled in our tail quitequick enough, or perhaps the enemy has grown more enterprising of late, in any case just as we were reaching the ridge a single shot was firedfrom Hussar Hill, and then without more ado a loud crackle of musketryburst forth. The distance was nearly two thousand yards, but thesquadrons in close formation were a good target. Everybody walked forabout twenty yards, and then without the necessity of an order brokeinto a brisk canter, opening the ranks to a dispersed formation at thesame time. It was very dry weather, and the bullets striking between thehorsemen raised large spurts of dust, so that it seemed that many menmust surely be hit. Moreover, the fire had swelled to a menacing roar. Ichanced to be riding with Colonel Byng in rear, and looking round sawthat we had good luck. For though bullets fell among the troopers quitethickly enough, the ground two hundred yards further back was all alivewith jumping dust. The Boers were shooting short. 

We reached the ridge and cover in a minute, and it was very pretty tosee these irregular soldiers stop their horses and dismount with theircarbines at once without any hesitation. Along the ridge Captain Hill'sColt Battery was drawn up in line, and as soon as the front was clearthe four little pink guns began spluttering furiously. The whole of theSouth African Light Horse dismounted and, lining the ridge, opened firewith their rifles. Thorneycroft's Mounted Infantry came into line onour left flank, and brought two tripod Maxims into action with them. Lord Dundonald sent back word to the battery to halt and fire over ourheads, and Major Gough's Regiment and the Royal Welsh Fusiliers, who hadalmost reached cover, turned round of their own accord and hurriedeagerly in the direction of the firing, which had become very loud onboth sides. 

There now ensued a strange little skirmish, which would have been abloody rifle duel but for the great distance which separated thecombatants and for the cleverness with which friends and foes concealedand sheltered themselves. Not less than four hundred men on either sidewere firing as fast as modern rifles will allow. Between us stretchedthe smooth green dip of ground. Beyond there rose the sharper outlinesof Hussar Hill, two or three sheds, and a few trees. That was where theBoers were. But they were quite invisible to the naked eye, and no smokebetrayed their positions. With a telescope they could be seen--a longrow of heads above the grass. We were equally hidden. Still theirbullets--a proportion of their bullets--found us, and I earnestly trustthat some of ours found them. Indeed there was a very hot fire, in spiteof the range. Yet no one was hit. Ah, yes, there was one, a tall trooperturned sharply on his side, and two of his comrades carried him quicklyback behind a little house, shot through the thigh. A little furtheralong the firing line another was being helped to the rear. The ColtBattery drew the cream of the fire, and Mr. Garrett, one of the expertssent out by the firm, was shot through the ankle, but he continued towork his gun. Captain Hill walked up and down his battery exposinghimself with great delight, and showing that he was a very worthyrepresentative of an Irish constituency. 

I happened to pass along the line on some duty or other when I noticedmy younger brother, whose keen desire to take some part in the publicquarrel had led me, in spite of misgivings, to procure him alieutenancy, lying on the ground, with his troop. As I approached I sawhim start in the quick, peculiar manner of a stricken man. I asked himat once whether he was hurt, and he said something--he thought it mustbe a bullet--had hit him on the gaiter and numbed his leg. He was quitesure it had not gone in, but when we had carried him away we found--as Iexpected--that he was shot through the leg. The wound was not serious, but the doctors declared he would be a month in hospital. It was hisbaptism of fire, and I have since wondered at the strange caprice whichstrikes down one man in his first skirmish and protects another timeafter time. But I suppose all pitchers will get broken in the end. Outwardly I sympathised with my brother in his misfortune, which hemourned bitterly, since it prevented him taking part in the impendingbattle, but secretly I confess myself well content that this younggentleman should be honourably out of harm's way for a month. 

It was neither our business nor our pleasure to remain and continue thislong-range duel with the Boers. Our work for the day was over, and allwere anxious to get home to luncheon. Accordingly, as soon as thebattery had come into action to cover our withdrawal we commencedwithdrawing squadron by squadron and finally broke off the engagement, for the Boers were not inclined to follow further. At about threeo'clock our loss in this interesting affair was one officer, LieutenantJohn Churchill, and seven men of the South African Light Horse woundedand a few horses. Thorneycroft's Mounted Infantry also had twocasualties, and there were two more in the Colt detachments. The Boerswere throughout invisible, but two days later when the ground wasrevisited we found one dead burgher--so that at any rate they lost moreheavily than we. The Colt guns worked very well, and the effect of thefire of a whole battery of these weapons was a marked diminution in theenemy's musketry. They were mounted on the light carriages patented byLord Dundonald, and the advantage of these in enabling the guns to berun back by hand, so as to avoid exposing the horses, was very obvious. 

I shall leave the great operation which, as I write, has already begun, to another letter, but since gaiety has its value in these troubloustimes let the reader pay attention to the story of General Hart and thethird-class shot. Major-General Hart, who commands the Irish Brigade, isa man of intrepid personal courage--indeed, to his complete contempt fordanger the heavy losses among his battalions, and particularly in theDublin Fusiliers, must be to some extent attributed. After Colenso therewere bitter things said on this account. But the reckless courage of theGeneral was so remarkable in subsequent actions that, being brave menthemselves, they forgave him everything for the sake of his daring. During the first day at Spion Kop General Hart discovered a soldiersitting safely behind a rock and a long way behind the firing line. 

'Good afternoon, my man, ' he said in his most nervous, apologetic voice;'what are you doing here?'

'Sir, ' replied the soldier, 'an officer told me to stop here, sir. '

'Oh! Why?'

'I'm a third-class shot, sir. '

'Dear me, ' said the General after some reflection, 'that's an awfulpity, because you see you'll have to get quite close to the Boers to doany good. Come along with me and I'll find you a nice place, ' and amournful procession trailed off towards the most advancedskirmishers. [3]

FOOTNOTES:

[3] The map at the end of Chapter XXV. Illustrates this and succeedingchapters. 

CHAPTER XXII

THE ENGAGEMENT OF MONTE CRISTO

Cingolo Neck: February 19, 1900. 

Not since I wrote the tale of my escape from Pretoria have I taken up mypen with such feelings of satisfaction and contentment as I do to-night. The period of doubt and hesitation is over. We have grasped the nettlefirmly, and as shrewdly as firmly, and have taken no hurt. It remainsonly to pluck it. For heaven's sake no over-confidence or prematureelation; but there is really good hope that Sir Redvers Buller hassolved the Riddle of the Tugela--at last. At last! I expect there willbe some who will inquire--'Why not "at first"?' All I can answer isthis: There is certainly no more capable soldier of high rank in all thearmy in Natal than Sir Redvers Buller. For three months he has beentrying his best to pierce the Boer lines and the barrier of mountain andriver which separates Ladysmith from food and friends; trying with anarmy--magnificent in everything but numbers, and not inconsiderable evenin that respect--trying at a heavy price of blood in Africa, of anxietyat home. Now, for the first time, it seems that he may succeed. Knowingthe General and the difficulties, I am inclined to ask, not whether hemight have succeeded sooner, but rather whether anyone else would havesucceeded at all. But to the chronicle!

Anyone who stands on Gun Hill near Chieveley can see the whole of theBoer position about Colenso sweeping before him in a wide curve. Themountain wall looks perfectly unbroken. The river lies everywhere buriedin its gorge, and is quite invisible. To the observer there is only asmooth green bay of land sloping gently downward, and embraced by therocky, scrub-covered hills. Along this crescent of high ground runs--orrather, by God's grace, ran the Boer line, strong in its naturalfeatures, and entrenched from end to end. When the map is consulted, however, it is seen that the Tugela does not flow uniformly along thefoot of the hills as might be expected, but that after passing Colensovillage, which is about the centre of the position, it plunges into themountainous country, and bends sharply northward; so that, though theleft of the Boer line might appear as strong as the right, there wasthis difference, that the Boer right had the river on its front, theBoer left had it in its rear. 

The attack of the 15th of December had been directed against the Boerright, because after reconnaissance Sir Redvers Buller deemed that, inspite of the river advantage, the right was actually the weaker of thetwo flanks. The attack of the 15th was repulsed with heavy loss. Itmight, therefore, seem that little promise of success attended an attackon the Boer left. The situation, however, was entirely altered by thegreat reinforcements in heavy artillery which had reached the army, anda position which formerly appeared unassailable now looked lessformidable. 

Let us now consider the Boer left by itself. It ran in a chain ofsangars, trenches, and rifle pits, from Colenso village, through thescrub by the river, over the rugged hill of Hlangwani, along a smoothgrass ridge we called 'The Green Hill, ' and was extended to guardagainst a turning movement on to the lofty wooded ridges of Monte Cristoand Cingolo and the neck joining these two features. Sir RedversBuller's determination was to turn this widely extended position on itsextreme left, and to endeavour to crumple it from left to right. As itwere, a gigantic right arm was to reach out to the eastward, itsshoulder at Gun Hill, its elbow on Hussar Hill, its hand on Cingolo, itsfingers, the Irregular Cavalry Brigade, actually behind Cingolo. 

On February 12th a reconnaissance in force of Hussar Hill was made byLord Dundonald. On the 14th the army moved east from Chieveley to occupythis ground. General Hart with one brigade held Gun Hill and Railhead. The First Cavalry Brigade watched the left flank at Springfield, butwith these exceptions the whole force marched for Hussar Hill. TheIrregular Cavalry covered the front, and the South African Light Horse, thrown out far in advance, secured the position by half-past eight, justin time to forestall a force of Boers which had been despatched, so soonas the general movement of the British was evident, to resist thecapture of the hill. A short sharp skirmish followed, in which we lost afew horses and men, and claim to have killed six Boers, and which wasterminated after half an hour by the arrival of the leading Infantrybattalion--the Royal Welsh Fusiliers. During the day the occupation wascompleted, and the brigades of Generals Wynne, Coke, and Barton, thenjoining Warren's Division with the Artillery, entrenched themselvesstrongly and bivouacked on the hill. Meanwhile Lyttelton's Divisionmarched from its camp in the Blue Krantz Valley, east of Chieveley, along the valley to a position short of the eastern spurs of HussarHill. These spurs are more thickly wooded and broken than the rest ofthe hill, and about four o'clock in the afternoon some hundred Boersestablished themselves among the rocks and opened a sharp fire. Theywere, however, expelled from their position by the Artillery and by thefire of the advanced battalions of Lyttelton's Division operating fromthe Blue Krantz Valley. 

During the 15th and 16th a desultory artillery duel proceeded on bothsides with slight loss to us. The water question presented somedifficulty, as the Blue Krantz River was several miles from Hussar Hilland the hill itself was waterless. A system of iron tanks mounted on oxwaggons was arranged, and a sufficient though small supply maintained. The heavy artillery was also brought into action and stronglyentrenched. The formidable nature of the enemy's position and theevident care with which he had fortified it may well have added to thedelay by giving cause for the gravest reflection. 

On the afternoon of the 16th Sir Redvers Buller resolved to plunge, andorders were issued for a general advance at dawn. Colonel Sandbach, under whose supervision the Intelligence Department has attained a newand a refreshing standard of efficiency, made comprehensive and, as wasafterwards proved, accurate reports of the enemy's strength and spirit, and strongly recommended the attack on the left flank. Two hours beforedawn the army was on the move. Hart's Brigade, the 6-inch and othergreat guns at Chieveley, guarded Railhead. Hlangwani Hill, and the longline of entrenchments rimming the Green Hill, were masked and fronted bythe display of the field and siege batteries, whose strength in guns wasas follows:

 Guns Four 5-inch siege guns. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. . 4 Six naval twelve-pounder long-range guns. .. .. .. . 6 Two 4. 7-inch naval guns. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. 2 One battery howitzers. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. 6 One battery corps artillery (R. F. A. ). .. .. .. .. .. . 6 Two brigade divisions R. F. A . .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. . 36 One mountain battery. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. . 6 -- 66

and which were also able to prepare and support the attack on CingoloNeck and Monte Cristo Ridge. Cingolo Ridge itself, however, was almostbeyond their reach. Lyttelton's Division with Wynne's Fusilier Brigadewas to stretch out to the eastward and, by a wide turning movementpivoting on the guns and Barton's Brigade, attack the Cingolo Ridge. Dundonald's Cavalry Brigade was to make a far wider detour and climb upthe end of the ridge, thus making absolutely certain of finding theenemy's left flank at last. 

By daybreak all were moving, and as the Irregular Cavalry forded theBlue Krantz stream on their enveloping march we heard the boom of thefirst gun. The usual leisurely bombardment had begun, and I counted onlythirty shells in the first ten minutes, which was not very hard work forthe gunners considering that nearly seventy guns were in action. But theArtillery never hurry themselves, and indeed I do not remember to haveheard in this war a really good cannonade, such as we had at Omdurman, except for a few minutes at Vaal Krantz. 

The Cavalry Brigade marched ten miles eastward through most broken anddifficult country, all rock, high grass, and dense thickets, which madeit imperative to move in single file, and the sound of the generalaction grew fainter and fainter. Gradually, however, we began to turnagain towards it. The slope of the ground rose against us. The scrubbecame more dense. To ride further was impossible. We dismounted and ledour horses, who scrambled and blundered painfully among the trees andboulders. So scattered was our formation that I did not care to imaginewhat would have happened had the enemy put in an appearance. But oursafety lay in these same natural difficulties. The Boers doubtlessreflected, 'No one will ever try to go through such ground asthat'--besides which war cannot be made without running risks. Thesoldier must chance his life. 

The general must not be afraid to brave disaster. But how tolerant thearm-chair critics should be of men who try daring _coups_ and fail! Youmust put your head into the lion's mouth if the performance is to be asuccess. And then I remembered the attacks on the brave and capableGeneral Gatacre after Stormberg, and wondered what would be said of usif we were caught 'dismounted and scattered in a wood. '

At length we reached the foot of the hill and halted to reconnoitre theslopes as far as was possible. After half an hour, since nothing couldbe seen, the advance was resumed up the side of a precipice and througha jungle so thick that we had to cut our road. It was eleven o'clockbefore we reached the summit of the ridge and emerged on to a more orless open plateau, diversified with patches of wood and heaps of greatboulders. Two squadrons had re-formed on the top and had deployed tocover the others. The troopers of the remaining seven squadrons wereworking their way up about four to the minute. It would take at leasttwo hours before the command was complete: and meanwhile! Suddenly therewas a rifle shot. Then another, then a regular splutter of musketry. Bullets began to whizz overhead. The Boers had discovered us. 

Now came the crisis. There might be a hundred Boers on the hill, inwhich case all was well. On the other hand there might be a thousand, inwhich case----! and retreat down the precipice was, of course, quite outof the question. Luckily there were only about a hundred, and after askirmish, in which one of the Natal Carabineers was unhappily killed, they fell back and we completed our deployment on the top of the hill. 

The squadron of Imperial Light Horse and the Natal Carabineers nowadvanced slowly along the ridge, clearing it of the enemy, slaying andretrieving one field cornet and two burghers, and capturing ten horses. Half-way along the Queen's, the right battalion of Hildyard's attack, which, having made a smaller detour, had now rushed the top, came intoline and supported the dismounted men. The rest of the Cavalry descendedinto the plain on the other side of the ridge, outflanking and eventhreatening the retreat of its defenders, so that in the end the Boers, who were very weak in numbers, were hunted off the ridge altogether, andCingolo was ours. Cingolo and Monte Cristo are joined together by a neckof ground from which both heights rise steeply. On either side of MonteCristo and Cingolo long spurs run at right angles to the main hill. 

By the operations of the 17th the Boer line had been twisted offCingolo, and turned back along the subsidiary spurs of Monte Cristo, andthe British forces had placed themselves diagonally across the left ofthe Boer position thus:

[Illustration: Plan of position at Monte Cristo. ]

The advantages of this situation were to be enjoyed on the morrow. 

Finding our further advance barred by the turned-back position the enemyhad adopted, and which we could only attack frontally, the Cavalrythrew out a line of outposts which were soon engaged in a long-rangerifle duel, and prepared to bivouac for the night. Cingolo Ridge wasmeanwhile strongly occupied by the Infantry, whose line ran from itshighest peak slantwise across the valley of the Gomba Stream to HussarHill, where it found its pivot in Barton's Brigade and the Artillery. The Boers, who were much disconcerted by the change in the situation, showed themselves ostentatiously on the turned-back ridge of theirposition as if to make themselves appear in great strength, andderisively hoisted white flags on their guns. The Colonial and Americantroopers (for in the South African Light Horse we have a great manyAmericans, and one even who served under Sheridan) made some exceedinglygood practice at the extreme ranges. So the afternoon passed, and thenight came in comparative quiet. 

At dawn the artillery began on both sides, and we were ourselvesawakened by Creusot shells bursting in our bivouac. The enemy's firewas chiefly directed on the company of the Queen's which was holding thetop of Cingolo, and only the good cover which the great rocks affordedprevented serious losses. As it was several men were injured. But weknew that we held the best cards; and so did the Boers. At eight o'clockHildyard's Brigade advanced against the peak of the Monte Cristo ridgewhich lay beyond the neck. The West Yorks led, the Queen's and EastSurrey supported. The musketry swelled into a constant crackle like thenoise of a good fire roaring up the chimney, but, in spite of more thana hundred casualties, the advance never checked for an instant, and byhalf-past ten o'clock the bayonets of the attacking infantry began toglitter among the trees of the summit. The Boers, who were lining ahastily-dug trench half way along the ridge, threatened in front with anoverwhelming force and assailed in flank by the long-range fire of theCavalry, began to fall back. By eleven o'clock the fight on the part ofthe enemy resolved itself into a rearguard action. 

Under the pressure of the advancing and enveloping army thisdegenerated very rapidly. When the Dutchman makes up his mind to go hethrows all dignity to the winds, and I have never seen an enemy leavethe field in such a hurry as did these valiant Boers who found theirflank turned, and remembered for the first time that there was a deepriver behind them. Shortly after twelve o'clock the summit of the ridgeof Monte Cristo was in our hands. The spurs which started at rightangles from it were, of course, now enfiladed and commanded. The Boersevacuated both in great haste. The eastern spur was what I have calledthe 'turned-back' position. The Cavalry under Dundonald. Gallopedforward and seized it as soon as the enemy were seen in motion, and fromthis advantageous standpoint we fired heavily into their line ofretreat. They scarcely waited to fire back, and we had only two men anda few horses wounded. 

The spur on the Colenso or western side was none other than the GreenHill itself, and judging rightly that its frowning entrenchments werenow empty of defenders Sir Redvers Buller ordered a general advancefrontally against it. Two miles of trenches were taken with scarcely anyloss. The enemy fled in disorder across the river. A few prisoners, somewounded, several cartloads of ammunition and stores, five camps with allkinds of Boer material, and last of all, and compared to which all elsewas insignificant, the dominating Monte Cristo ridge stretchingnorthward to within an easy spring of Bulwana Hill, were the prize ofvictory. The soldiers, delighted at the change of fortune, slept in theBoer tents--or would have done had these not been disgustingly foul andstinking. 

From the captured ridge we could look right down into Ladysmith, and atthe first opportunity I climbed up to see it for myself. Only eightmiles away stood the poor little persecuted town, with whose fate thereis wrapt up the honour of the Empire, and for whose sake so many hundredgood soldiers have given life or limb--a twenty-acre patch of tin housesand blue gum trees, but famous to the uttermost ends of the earth. 

The victory of Monte Cristo has revolutionised the situation in Natal. It has laid open a practicable road to Ladysmith. Great difficulties andheavy opposition have yet to be encountered and overcome, but the word'impossible' must no longer be--should, perhaps, never have been used. The success was won at the cost of less than two hundred men killed andwounded, and surely no army more than the Army of Natal deserves acheaply bought triumph. 

CHAPTER XXIII

THE PASSAGE OF THE TUGELA

Hospital Ship 'Maine': March 4, 1900. 

Since I finished my last letter, on February the 21st, I have found notime to sit down to write until now, because we have passed through aperiod of ceaseless struggle and emotion, and I have been seeing so manythings that I could not pause to record anything. It has been as if apainter prepared himself to paint some portrait, but was so fascinatedby the beauty of his model that he could not turn his eyes from her faceto the canvas; only that the spectacles which have held me have notalways been beautiful. Now the great event is over, the long and bloodyconflict around Ladysmith has been gloriously decided, and I take a fewdays' leisure on the good ship _Maine_, where everyone is busy gettingwell, to think about it all and set down some things on paper. 

First and foremost there was the Monte Cristo ridge, that we hadcaptured on the 18th, which gave us the Green Hill, Hlangwani Hill, and, when we chose to take it, the whole of the Hlangwani plateau. The MonteCristo ridge is the centrepiece to the whole of this battle. As soon aswe had won it I telegraphed to the _Morning Post_ that now at lastsuccess was a distinct possibility. With this important feature in ourpossession it was certain that we held the key to Ladysmith, and thoughwe might fumble a little with the lock, sooner or later, barring theaccidents of war, we should open the door. 

As Monte Cristo had given Sir Redvers Buller Hlangwani, so Hlangwanirendered the whole of the western section (the eastern section wasalready in our hands) of the Colenso position untenable by the enemy, and they, finding themselves commanded and enfiladed, forthwithevacuated it. On the 19th General Buller made good his position on GreenHill, occupied Hlangwani with Barton's Brigade, built or improved hisroads and communications from Hussar Hill across the Gomba Valley, andbrought up his heavy guns. The Boers, who were mostly on the other sideof the river, resisted stubbornly with artillery, with theirVickers-Maxim guns and the fire of skirmishers, so that we suffered someslight loss, but could not be said to have wasted the day. On the 20ththe south side of the Tugela was entirely cleared of the enemy, whoretired across the bridge they had built, and, moreover, a heavy batterywas established on the spurs of Hlangwani to drive them out of Colenso. In the afternoon Hart's Brigade advanced from Chieveley, and hisleading-battalion, under Major Stuart-Wortley, occupied Colenso villagewithout any resistance. 

The question now arose--Where should the river be crossed? Sir RedversBuller possessed the whole of the Hlangwani plateau, which, as thereader may perceive by looking at the map opposite p. 448, fills up there-entrant angle made opposite Pieters by the Tugela after it leavesColenso. From this Hlangwani plateau he could either cross the riverwhere it ran north and south or where it ran east and west. Sir RedversBuller determined to cross the former reach beyond Colenso village. Todo this he had to let go his hold on the Monte Cristo ridge and resignall the advantages which its possession had given him, and had besidesto descend into the low ground, where his army must be cramped betweenthe high hills on its left and the river on its right. 

There was, of course, something to be said for the other plan, which wasadvocated strongly by Sir Charles Warren. The crossing, it was urged, was absolutely safe, being commanded on all sides by our guns, and theenemy could make no opposition except with artillery. Moreover, the armywould get on its line of railway and could 'advance along the railroad. 'This last was a purely imaginary advantage, to be sure, because therailway had no rolling-stock, and was disconnected from the rest of theline by the destruction of the Tugela bridge. But what weighed with theCommander-in-Chief much more than the representations of his lieutenantwas the accumulating evidence that the enemy were in full retreat. TheIntelligence reports all pointed to this situation. Boers had ridden offin all directions. Waggons were seen trekking along every road to thenorth and west. The camps between us and Ladysmith began to break up. Everyone said, 'This is the result of Lord Roberts's advance: the Boersfind themselves now too weak to hold us off. They have raised thesiege. '

But this conclusion proved false in the sense that it was premature. Undoubtedly the Boers had been reduced in strength by about 5, 000 men, who had been sent into the Free State for its defence. Until the MonteCristo ridge was lost to them they deemed themselves quite strong enoughto maintain the siege. When, however, this position was captured, thesituation was revolutionised. They saw that we had found their flank, and thoroughly appreciated the significance and value of the long highwedge of ground, which cut right across the left of their positions, andseemed to stretch away almost to Bulwana Mountain. They knew perfectlywell that if we advanced by our right along the line of this ridge, which they called 'the Bush Kop, ' supporting ourselves by it as a manmight rest his hand on a balustrade, we could turn their Pietersposition just as we had already turned their entrenchments at Colenso. 

Therein lay the true reason of their retirement, and in attributing iteither to Lord Roberts's operations or to the beating we had given themon the 18th we made a mistake, which was not repaired until much bloodhad been shed. 

I draw a rough diagram to assist the reader who will take the trouble tostudy the map. It is only drawn from memory, and its object is to showhow completely the Monte Cristo ridge turned both the line ofentrenchments through Colenso and that before Pieters. But no diagrams, however exaggerated, would convince so well as would the actual ground. 

[Illustration: Plan of the Colenso Position. ]

In the belief, however, that the enemy were in retreat the Generalresolved to cross the river at A by a pontoon bridge and follow therailway line. On the 21st, therefore, he moved his army westward acrossthe Hlangwani plateau, threw his bridge, and during the afternoon passedhis two leading infantry brigades over it. As soon as the Boersperceived that he had chosen this line of advance their hopes revived. 'Oh, ' we may imagine them saying, 'if you propose to go that way, thingsare not so bad after all. ' So they returned to the number of about ninethousand burghers, and manned the trenches of the Pieters position, withthe result that Wynne's Lancashire Brigade, which was the first tocross, soon found itself engaged in a sharp action among the low-kopjes, and suffered a hundred and fifty casualties, including its General, before dark. Musketry fire was continuous throughout the night. The 1stCavalry Brigade had been brought in from Springfield on the 20th, and onthe morning of the 22nd both the Regular and Irregular Cavalry were tohave crossed the river. We accordingly marched from our camp at the neckbetween Cingolo and Monte Cristo and met the 1st Cavalry Brigade, whichhad come from Chievejey, at the pontoon bridge. A brisk action wascrackling away beyond the river, and it looked as if the ground scarcelyadmitted of our intervention. Indeed, we had hardly arrived when aStaff Officer came up, and brought us orders to camp near HlangwaniHill, as we should not cross that day. 

Presently I talked to the Staff Officer, who chanced to be a friend ofmine, and chanced, besides, to be a man with a capacity for sustainedthought, an eye for country, and some imagination. He said: 'I don'tlike the situation; there are more of them than we expected. We havecome down off our high ground. We have taken all the big guns off thebig hills. We are getting ourselves cramped up among these kopjes in thevalley of the Tugela. It will be like being in the Coliseum and shot atby every row of seats. '

Sir Redvers Buller, however, still believing he had only a rearguard infront of him, was determined to persevere. It is, perhaps, his strongestcharacteristic obstinately to pursue his plan in spite of all advice, inspite, too, of his horror of bloodshed, until himself convinced that itis impracticable. The moment he is satisfied that this is the case noconsiderations of sentiment or effect prevent him from coming back andstarting afresh. No modern General ever cared less for what the worldmight say. However unpalatable and humiliating a retreat might be, hewould make one so soon as he was persuaded that adverse chances laybefore him. 'To get there in the end, ' was his guiding principle. Norwould the General consent to imperil the ultimate success by asking hissoldiers to make a supreme effort to redress a false tactical move. Itwas a principle which led us to much blood and bitter disappointment, but in the end to victory. 

Not yet convinced, General Buller, pressing forward, moved the whole ofhis infantry, with the exception of Barton's Brigade, and nearly all theartillery, heavy and field, across the river, and in the afternoon senttwo battalions from Norcott's Brigade and the Lancashire Brigade--to thevacant command of which Colonel Kitchener had been appointed--forwardagainst the low kopjes. By nightfall a good deal of this low, rollingground was in our possession, though at some cost in men and officers. 

At dusk the Boers made a fierce and furious counter-attack. I waswatching the operations from Hlangwani Hill through a powerfultelescope. As the light died my companions climbed down the rocks to theCavalry camp and left me alone staring at the bright flashes of the gunswhich stabbed the obscurity on all sides. Suddenly, above the booming ofthe cannon, there arose the harsh rattling roar of a tremendousfusillade. Without a single intermission this continued for severalhours. The Howitzer Battery, in spite of the darkness, evidentlyconsidered the situation demanded its efforts, and fired salvoes oflyddite shells, which, bursting in the direction of the Boer positions, lit up the whole scene with flaring explosions. I went anxiously to bedthat night, wondering what was passing beyond the river, and the lastthing I can remember was the musketry drumming away with unabatedvigour. 

There was still a steady splutter at dawn on the 23rd, and before thelight was full grown the guns joined in the din. We eagerly sought fornews of what had passed. Apparently the result was not unfavourable tothe army. 'Push for Ladysmith to-day, horse, foot, and artillery' wasthe order, 'Both cavalry brigades to cross the river at once. ' Detailswere scarce and doubtful. Indeed, I cannot yet give any accuratedescription of the fighting on the night of the 22nd, for it was of aconfused and desperate nature, and many men must tell their tale beforeany general account can be written. 

What happened, briefly described, was that the Boers attacked heavily atnightfall with rifle fire all along the line, and, in their eagerness todislodge the troops, came to close quarters on several occasions atvarious points. At least two bayonet charges are recorded. Sixteen menof Stuart Wortley's Composite Battalion of Reservists of the RifleBrigade and King's Royal Rifles showed blood on their bayonets in themorning. About three hundred officers and men were killed or wounded. The Boers also suffered heavily, leaving dead on the ground, amongothers a grandson of President Kruger. Prisoners were made and lost, taken and rescued by both sides; but the daylight showed that victoryrested with the British, for the infantry were revealed stilltenaciously holding all their positions. 

At eight o'clock the cavalry crossed the river under shell fire directedon the bridge, and were massed at Fort Wylie, near Colenso. I rode alongthe railway line to watch the action from one of the low kopjes. Acapricious shell fire annoyed the whole army as it sheltered behind therocky hills, and an unceasing stream of stretchers from the front boretrue witness to the serious nature of the conflict, for this was thethird and bloodiest day of the seven days' fighting called the battle ofPieters. 

I found Sir Redvers Buller and his Staff in a somewhat exposed position, whence an excellent view could be obtained. The General displayed hiscustomary composure, asked me how my brother's wound was getting on, andtold me that he had just ordered Hart's Brigade, supported by twobattalions from Lyttelton's Division, to assault the hill marked '3' onmy diagram, and hereinafter called Inniskilling Hill. 'I have told Hartto follow the railway. I think he can get round to their left flankunder cover of the river bank, ' he said, 'but we must be prepared for acounter-attack on our left as soon as they see what I'm up to;' and hethen made certain dispositions of his cavalry, which brought the SouthAfrican Light Horse close up to the wooded kopje on which we stood. Imust now describe the main Pieters position, one hill of which was aboutto be attacked. 

It ran, as the diagram shows, from the high and, so far as we wereconcerned, inaccessible hills on the west to the angle of the river, andthen along the three hills marked 3, 2, and 1. I use this invertedsequence of numbers because we were now attacking them in the wrongorder. 

Sir Redvers Buller's plan was as follows: On the 22nd he had taken thelow kopjes, and his powerful artillery gave him complete command of theriver gorge. Behind the kopjes, which acted as a kind of shield, andalong the river gorge he proposed to advance his infantry until theangle of the river was passed and there was room to stretch out his, till then, cramped right arm and reach round the enemy's left onInniskilling Hill, and so crumple it. 

This perilous and difficult task was entrusted to the Irish Brigade, which comprised the Dublin Fusiliers, the Inniskilling Fusiliers, theConnaught Rangers, and the Imperial Light Infantry, who had temporarilyreplaced the Border Regiment--in all about three thousand men, supportedby two thousand more. Their commander, General Hart, was one of thebravest officers in the army, and it was generally felt that such aleader and such troops could carry the business through if success laywithin the scope of human efforts. 

The account of the ensuing operation is so tragic and full of mournfulinterest that I must leave it to another letter. 

CHAPTER XXIV

THE BATTLE OF PIETERS: THE THIRD DAY

Hospital ship 'Maine': March 5, 1900. 

At half-past twelve on the 23rd General Hart ordered his brigade toadvance. The battalions, which were sheltering among stone walls andother hastily constructed cover on the reverse slope of the kopjeimmediately in front of that on which we stood, rose up one by one andformed in rank. They then moved off in single file along the railroad, the Inniskilling Fusiliers leading, the Connaught Rangers, DublinFusiliers, and the Imperial Light Infantry following in succession. Atthe same time the Durham Light Infantry and the 2nd Rifle Brigade beganto march to take the place of the assaulting brigade on the advancedkopje. Wishing to have a nearer view of the attack, I descended thewooded hill, cantered along the railway--down which the procession ofladen stretchers, now hardly interrupted for three days, was stillmoving--and, dismounting, climbed the rocky sides of the advanced kopje. On the top, in a little half-circle of stones, I found GeneralLyttelton, who received me kindly, and together we watched thedevelopment of the operation. Nearly a mile of the railway line wasvisible, and along it the stream of Infantry flowed steadily. Thetelescope showed the soldiers walking quite slowly, with their rifles atthe slope. Thus far, at least, they were not under fire. The low kopjeswhich were held by the other brigades shielded the movement. A mile awaythe river and railway turned sharply to the right; the river plungedinto a steep gorge, and the railway was lost in a cutting. There wascertainly plenty of cover; but just before the cutting was reached theiron bridge across the Onderbrook Spruit had to be crossed, and this wasevidently commanded by the enemy's riflemen. Beyond the railway and themoving trickle of men the brown dark face of Inniskilling Hill, crownedwith sangars and entrenchments, rose up gloomy and, as yet, silent. 

The patter of musketry along the left of the army, which reached backfrom the advanced kopjes to Colenso village, the boom of the heavy gunsacross the river, and the ceaseless thudding of the Field Artillerymaking a leisurely preparation, were an almost unnoticed accompanimentto the scene. Before us the Infantry were moving steadily nearer to thehill and the open ground by the railway bridge, and we listened amid thecomparatively peaceful din for the impending fire storm. 

The head of the column reached the exposed ground, and the soldiersbegan to walk across it. Then at once above the average fusillade andcannonade rose the extraordinary rattling roll of Mauser musketry ingreat volume. If the reader wishes to know exactly what this is like hemust drum the fingers of both his hands on a wooden table, one afterthe other as quickly and as hard as he can. I turned my telescope on theDutch defences. They were no longer deserted. All along the rim of thetrenches, clear cut and jet black, against the sky stood a crowded lineof slouch-hatted men, visible as far as their shoulders, and wieldingwhat looked like thin sticks. 

Far below by the red ironwork of the railway bridge--2, 000 yards, atleast, from the trenches--the surface of the ground was blurred anddusty. Across the bridge the Infantry were still moving, but no longerslowly--they were running for their lives. Man after man emerged fromthe sheltered railroad, which ran like a covered way across the enemy'sfront, into the open and the driving hail of bullets, ran the gauntletand dropped down the embankment on the further side of the bridge intosafety again. The range was great, but a good many soldiers were hit andlay scattered about the ironwork of the bridge. 'Pom-pom-pom, ''pom-pom-pom, ' and so on, twenty times went the Boer automatic gun, andthe flights of little shells spotted the bridge with puffs of whitesmoke. But the advancing Infantry never hesitated for a moment, andcontinued to scamper across the dangerous ground, paying their tollaccordingly. More than sixty men were shot in this short space. Yet thiswas not the attack. This was only the preliminary movement across theenemy's front. 

The enemy's shells, which occasionally burst on the advanced kopje, anda whistle of stray bullets from the left, advised us to change ourposition, and we moved a little further down the slope towards theriver. Here the bridge was no longer visible. I looked towards thehill-top, whence the roar of musketry was ceaselessly proceeding. TheArtillery had seen the slouch hats, too, and forgetting their usualapathy in the joy of a live target, concentrated a most hellish andterrible fire on the trenches. 

Meanwhile the afternoon had been passing. The Infantry had filedsteadily across the front, and the two leading battalions had alreadyaccumulated on the eastern spurs of Inniskilling Hill. At four o'clockGeneral Hart ordered the attack, and the troops forthwith began toclimb the slopes. The broken ground delayed their progress, and it wasnearly sunset by the time they had reached the furthest position whichcould be gained under cover. The Boer entrenchments were about fourhundred yards away. The _arête_ by which the Inniskillings had advancedwas bare, and swept by a dreadful frontal fire from the works on thesummit and a still more terrible flanking fire from the other hills. Itwas so narrow that, though only four companies were arranged in thefiring line, there was scarcely room for two to deploy. There was not, however, the slightest hesitation, and as we watched with straining eyeswe could see the leading companies rise up together and run swiftlyforward on the enemy's works with inspiring dash and enthusiasm. 

But if the attack was superb, the defence was magnificent; nor could thedevoted heroism of the Irish soldiers surpass the stout endurance of theDutch. The Artillery redoubled their efforts. The whole summit of thehill was alive with shell. Shrapnel flashed into being above the crests, and the ground sprang up into dust whipped by the showers of bullets andsplinters. Again and again whole sections of the entrenchments vanishedin an awful uprush of black earth and smoke, smothering the fierce blazeof the lyddite shells from the howitzers and heavy artillery. Thecannonade grew to tremendous thundering hum. Not less than sixty gunswere firing continuously on the Boer trenches. But the musketry wasnever subdued for an instant. Amid the smoke and the dust the slouchhats could still be seen. The Dutch, firm and undaunted, stood to theirparapets and plied their rifles with deadly effect. 

The terrible power of the Mauser rifle was displayed. As the chargingcompanies met the storm of bullets they were swept away. Officers andmen fell by scores on the narrow ridge. Though assailed in front andflank by the hideous whispering Death, the survivors hurried obstinatelyonward, until their own artillery were forced to cease firing, and itseemed that, in spite of bullets, flesh and blood would prevail. But atthe last supreme moment the weakness of the attack was shown. TheInniskillings had almost reached their goal. They were too few to effecttheir purpose; and when the Boers saw that the attack had withered theyshot all the straighter, and several of the boldest leapt out from theirtrenches and, running forward to meet the soldiers, discharged theirmagazines at the closest range. It was a frantic scene of blood andfury. 

Thus confronted, the Irish perished rather than retire. A few men indeedran back down the slope to the nearest cover, and there savagely turnedto bay, but the greater part of the front line was shot down. Othercompanies, some from the Connaught Rangers, some headed by the braveColonel Sitwell, from the Dublin Fusiliers, advanced to renew--it wasalready too late to support--the attack, and as the light faded anotherfierce and bloody assault was delivered and was repulsed. Yet the Irishsoldiers would not leave the hill, and, persuaded at length that theycould not advance further, they lay down on the ground they had won, and began to build walls and shelters, from behind which they opened arevengeful fire on the exulting Boers. In the two attacks both colonels, three majors, twenty officers, and six hundred men had fallen out of anengaged force of scarcely one thousand two hundred. Then darkness pulleddown the curtain, and the tragedy came to an end for the day. 

All through the night of the 23rd a heavy rifle fire was maintained byboth sides. Stray bullets whistled about the bivouacs, and the SouthAfrican Light Horse, who had selected a most sheltered spot to sleep in, had a trooper hit. There were a certain number of casualties along thewhole front. As soon as it was daylight I rode out with Captain Brooketo learn what had happened in the night. We knew that the hill had notbeen carried before dusk, but hoped, since the combatants were so closetogether, that in the darkness the bayonet would have settled thematter. 

We had just reached the hollow behind the advanced kopje from which Ihad watched the attack on the previous evening, when suddenly a shrapnelshell burst in the air above our heads with a sharp, startling bang. Thehollow and slope of the hill were crowded with Infantry battalions lyingdown in quarter column. The bullets and splinters of the shell smote theground on all sides. We were both mounted and in the centre of the coneof dispersion. I was immediately conscious that nothing had happened tome, though the dust around my horse was flicked up, and I concluded thateveryone had enjoyed equally good fortune. Indeed, I turned to Brooke, and was about to elaborate my theory that shrapnel is comparativelyharmless, when I saw some stir and turmoil and no less than eight menwere picked up killed or wounded by this explosion. I have only oncebefore seen in war such a successful shell, and on that occasion I wasstudying the effect from the other side. 

My respect for modern artillery was mightily increased by this exampleof its power. Two more shells followed in quick succession. The firststruck down four men, and broke in two the leg of an Infantry officer'scharger, so that the poor beast galloped about in a circle, preventinghis rider from dismounting for some time; the second shore along theHowitzer Battery, killing one soldier and wounding an officer, fivesoldiers, and three horses. All this occurred in a space of about twominutes, and the three shells between them accounted for nineteen menand four horses. Then the gun, which was firing 'on spec, ' and could notsee the effect of its fire, turned its attention elsewhere; but thethought forced itself on me, 'Fancy if there had been a battery. ' Thecrowded Infantry waiting in support would certainly have been driven outof the re-entrant with frightful slaughter. Yet in a European war therewould have been not one, but three or four batteries. I do not see howtroops can be handled in masses under such conditions, even when insupport and on reverse slopes. Future warfare must depend on theindividual. 

We climbed on to the top of the kopje, which was sprinkled with staffofficers and others--all much interested in the exhibition of shellfire, which they discussed as a purely scientific question. InniskillingHill was still crowned with the enemy, though they no longer showedabove their trenches. Its slopes were scored with numerous brown lines, the stone walls built by the attacking brigade during the night, andbehind these the telescope showed the Infantry clustering thickly. TheBoers on their part had made some new trenches in advance of those onthe crest of the hill, so that the opposing firing lines were scarcelythree hundred yards apart, which meant that everyone in them must liestill or run grave risks. Thus they remained all day, firing at eachother continually, while on the bare ground between them the dead andwounded lay thickly scattered, the dead mixed with the living, thewounded untended, without dressings, food, or water, and harassed by thefire from both sides and from our artillery. It was a very painful thingto watch these poor fellows moving about feebly and trying to wrigglethemselves into some position of safety, and it reminded me of thewounded Dervishes after Omdurman--only these were our own countrymen. 

It seems that a misunderstanding, of the rights and wrongs of which thereader shall be himself a judge, arose with the enemy. When day broke, the Boers, who were much nearer to the wounded than were our troops, came out of their trenches with a Red Cross flag, and the firingthereupon ceased locally. Our people ought then to have been ready tocome forward with another Red Cross flag, and an informal truce mighteasily have been arranged for an hour or two. Unfortunately, however, there was some delay on our part. The Boers therefore picked up theirown wounded, of whom there were a few, gave some of our men a littlewater, and took away their rifles. All this was quite correct; but theBoers then proceeded to strip and despoil the dead and wounded, takingoff their boots and turning out their pockets, and this so infuriatedthe watching soldiers behind the wall that they forthwith fired on theBoers, Red Cross flag notwithstanding. This, of course, was the signalfor fighting to recommence fiercely, and during the day neither sidewould hear of parley. The Boers behaved cruelly in various instances, and several wounded men who tried to crawl away were deliberatelydestroyed by being shot at close quarters with many bullets. 

During the 24th there was heavy firing on both sides, but no movement ofinfantry on either. The army suffered some loss from the Boer artillery, particularly the automatic guns, which were well served, and whichenfiladed many of our positions on the slopes of the low kopjes. In thisway Colonel Thorold, of the Royal Welsh Fusiliers, and other officers, met their deaths. The casualties were principally in Hildyard's Englishand Kitchener's Lancashire Brigades. Hart's six battalions found goodcover in the gorge of the Tugela. 

Sir Redvers Buller now saw that his plan of filing his army round theangle of the river and across the enemy's front would, in any case, bevery costly, and was perhaps impossible. He, therefore, determined toget back to the Hlangwani plateau, and try the extreme left of theenemy's position. He had the strategic advantage of being on interiorlines, and was consequently able to move his troops with great ease fromone flank to the other. His new plan was to pass the brigades of hisleft and centre across the pontoon bridge from the left to the right, sothat Hart, who was formerly the extreme right, would now become almostthe extreme left, and, having thus extended his right arm, to cross theriver where it flowed east and west, and make a still wider swoop on theenemy's flank. 

The first thing to do was to move the heavy guns, and this, with certainredistributions of the cavalry, occupied the whole day. A long-rangefour-gun naval battery was established on the western slopes of theMonte Cristo ridge. Another similar battery was placed on the spurs ofHlangwani. The 4. 7-inch naval guns and the 5 in. Fortress battery werebrought into line in the centre of the Hlangwani plateau. All this wasgood. The big guns were getting back on to the big hills. The firing, which continued all day, swelled into a roar towards night as the Boersmade vigorous attempts to drive Hart's Brigade from its lodgments. Theywere, however, foiled in their endeavour to squeeze in between thetroops and the river. 

The battalions, who were attacked frontally, lay down with fixedbayonets and prayed that the Boers might be encouraged by their silenceto make an assault. The latter, however, were fully aware of theeagerness of the soldiers for personal collision, and kept theirdistance. The firing on both sides was unaimed, and very little harm wasdone. No one, however, had much sleep. The condition of the wounded, still lying sore and thirsty on the bare hillside, was now so shockingthat Sir Redvers Buller was forced, much against his inclination, atdawn on the 25th, to send in a flag of truce to the Boer commander andask for an armistice. This the Boers formally refused, but agreed thatif we would not fire on their positions during the day they would notprevent our bearer companies from removing the wounded and burying thedead. 

The arrangement worked well; the enemy were polite to our medicalofficers, and by noon all the wounded had been brought down and the deadburied. The neglect and exposure for forty-eight hours had muchaggravated the case of the former, and the bodies of the dead, swollen, blackened, and torn by the terrible wounds of the expansive bullets, nowso generally used by the enemy, were ugly things to see. The fact thatno regular armistice was agreed on was an advantage, as we were notthereby debarred from making military movements. The Boers improvedtheir entrenchments, and Sir Redvers Buller employed the day inwithdrawing his train across the river. This movement, seeming toforeshadow another retreat, sorely disquieted the troops, who were onlyreassured by the promise of a general onslaught from the other flank atno distant time. 

The strange quiet of this Sunday, the first day since the 14th of themonth unbroken by musketry and cannonade, was terminated at nineo'clock at night. 

The Boers had seen the waggons passing back over the bridge, and wereanxious to find out whether or not the infantry were following, and ifthe low kopjes were evacuated. They therefore opened a tremendousmagazine fire at long range on the brigades holding the line fromColenso village to the angle of the river. The fusillade was returned, and for ten minutes the musketry was louder than at any other time inthis campaign. Very few casualties occurred, however, and after a whilethe Boers, having learned that the positions were still occupied, ceasedfiring, and the British soon imitated them, so that, except for theceaseless 'sniping, ' silence was restored. 

At dawn on the 26th the artillery re-opened on both sides, and duringthe day a constant bombardment was maintained, in which we, having moreguns, fired the greater number of shells, and the Dutch, having largertargets, hit a greater number of men. The losses were not, however, severe, except in view of the fact that they had to be endured by theinfantry idly and passively. 

Considerable movements of troops were made. Colenso and the kopjes aboutFort Wylie were converted into a bridgehead, garrisoned by Talbot Coke'sBrigade. A new line of communications was opened around the foot ofHlangwani. A pontoon bridge (B) was arranged ready to be thrown belowthe falls of the river, not far from the still intact Boer bridge. Hildyard's English Brigade stood fast on the advanced low kopjes formingthe extreme left of the line. Hart's command held its position about theslopes of Inniskilling Hill and in the gorge of the river. Barton'sFusilier Brigade, Kitchener's Lancashire Brigade, and the two remainingbattalions of Norcott's (formerly Lyttelton's) Brigade crossed the oldbridge to the Hlangwani plateau. 

All was now ready for the final attack on the left of the Pietersposition, and in spite of the high quality of the Infantry it wasgenerally recognised throughout the army that the fate of Ladysmithmust depend on the success of the next day's operations. The spirit ofthe army was still undaunted, but they had suffered much from losses, exposure, and disappointment. 

Since January 11, a period of more than six weeks, the troops had beencontinuously fighting and bivouacking. The peaceful intervals of a fewdays had merely been in order to replenish stores and ammunition. Duringthis time the only reinforcements to reach the army had been a fewdrafts, a cavalry regiment, a horse battery, and some heavy guns. Exclusive of the 1, 100 casualties suffered at Colenso in December, theforce, rarely more than 20, 000 men, had had over 3, 500 killed andwounded, had never had a single gleam of success, and had hardly seenthe enemy who hit them so hard. 

Colenso, Spion Kop, Vaal Krantz, and the third day at Pieters were notinspiring memories, and though everyone was cheered by the good news ofthe entanglement of Cronje's army on the western side, yet it was feltthat the attempt to be made on the morrow would be the last effort theNatal Field Army would be asked or allowed to make. And oppressed bythese reflections we went anxiously to rest on the eve of Majuba Day. 

CHAPTER XXV

UPON MAJUBA DAY

Commandant's Office. Durban: March 6, 1900. 

Day broke behind a cloudy sky, and the bang of an early gun reminded usthat a great business was on hand. The bivouac of the Irregular Cavalry, which, since they had recrossed the river, had been set at the neckbetween Monte Cristo and Cingolo, was soon astir. We arose--all hadslept in their boots and had no need to dress--drank some coffee andrejoiced that the day promised to be cool. It would help the infantry, and on the infantry all depended. 

At half-past six Dundonald's Brigade marched towards the northern end ofthe Hlangwani plateau, where we were to take up positions on the spursof Monte Cristo and along the bluffs of the south bank of the Tugela, from which we might assist the infantry attack, and particularly theattack of Barton's Brigade, by long-range rifle fire, and by our Coltbattery and Maxim guns. While we marched the artillery fire grew morerapid, as battery after battery joined in the bombardment; and when wereached the high wooded ridge which we were ordered to line, I could seeour shells bursting merrily in the enemy's trenches. 

The position which had been assigned to the South African Light Horseafforded a close yet extensive view of the whole scene. Deep in itsgorge below our feet flowed the Tugela, with the new pontoon bridgevisible to the left, just below a fine waterfall. Behind us, on arounded spur of Monte Cristo, one of the long-range batteries was firingaway busily. Before us, across the river, there rose from the water'sedge first a yellow strip of sandy foreshore, then steep, scrub-coveredbanks, and then smooth, brown slopes, terminating in the three hillswhich were to be successively assaulted, and which were surmounted bythe dark lines of the Boer forts and trenches. 

It was like a stage scene viewed from the dress circle. Moreover, wewere very comfortable. There were large convenient rocks to sit behindin case of bullets, or to rest a telescope on, and the small trees whichsparsely covered the ridge gave a partial shade from the sun. Oppositeour front a considerable valley, thickly wooded, ran back from theriver, and it was our easy and pleasant task to 'fan' this, as anAmerican officer would say, by scattering a ceaseless shower of rifleand machine-gun bullets throughout its length. Under these satisfactorycircumstances I watched the battle. 

It developed very slowly, and with the deliberation which characterisesall our manoeuvres. The guns gradually worked themselves into a state ofexcitement, and what with our musketry, supplemented by that of theBorder Regiment and the Composite Battalion, whose duties were the sameas ours, and the machine-guns puffing like steam engines, we soon had acapital loud noise, which I think is a most invigorating element in anattack. Besides this, the enemy's sharpshooters were curiously subdued. They found an unexpected amount of random bullets flying about, and, asthey confessed afterwards, it puzzled and disturbed them. 

The spectacle of two thousand men firing for half a day at nothing mayprovoke the comment 'shocking waste of ammunition. ' Very likely therewas waste. But all war is waste, and cartridges are the cheapest item inthe bill. At any rate, we made it too hot for the 'snipers' to showtheir heads, which was certainly worth fifty men to the assaultingbrigades. This method of preparing an attack by a great volume ofunaimed--not undirected--rifle fire is worthy of the closest attention. I have only once before noticed its employment, and that was when SirBindon Blood attacked and took the Tanga Pass. Then, as now, it was mosteffective. 

While we were thus occupied the Infantry of Barton's Brigade weremarching across the pontoon bridge, turning to their right and filingalong the sandy foreshore. The plan of attack to which Sir RedversBuller had finally committed himself was as follows: Hildyard's Brigadeto hold its position on the low kopjes; Barton's Brigade to cross thenew pontoon bridge opposite to the left of the enemy's position, andassault the hill marked '3' on my diagram, and hereinafter calledBarton's Hill. Next Kitchener's Brigade was to cross, covered byBarton's fire, to assault the centre hill marked '2, ' and called RailwayHill. Lastly, Norcott's two untouched battalions were to join the restof their brigade, and, supported by General Hart's Brigade, to attackInniskilling Hill. 

In brief, we were to stretch out our right arm, reach round the enemy'sflank, and pivoting on Hildyard's Brigade crumple him from (his) left toright. It was the same plan as before, only that we now had our righthand on the Monte Cristo ridge, from which commanding position ourlong-range guns could enfilade and even take in reverse some of theenemy's trenches. 

The leading brigade was across the river by nine o'clock, and by tenhad reached its position ready for attacking at the foot of Barton'sHill. The advance began forthwith and the figures of the Infantry couldbe seen swarming up the steep slopes of the river gorge. The Boers didvery little to stop the attack. They knew their weakness. One side ofBarton's Hill was swept and commanded by the guns on Monte Cristo. Theother side, at the back of which was the donga we were 'fanning, ' wasraked by the heavy artillery on the Hlangwani spur and by the fieldbatteries arranged along the south side of the river. Observe theinfluence of the Monte Cristo ridge! It made Barton's Hill untenable bythe Boers; and Barton's Hill prepared the way for an attack on RailwayHill, and Railway Hill--but I must not anticipate. Indeed, next to MonteCristo, Barton's Hill was the key of the Boer position, and sounfortunate was the enemy's situation that he could not hold thisall-important feature once he had lost the Monte Cristo ridge. 

What was tactically possible and safe--for the Boer is a cautiouswarrior--was done. Knowing that his left would be turned he extended asort of false left in the air beyond the end of the Monte Cristo ridge, and here he brought a gun into action, which worried us among otherpeople but did not, of course, prevent any military movement. 

By noon the whole of Barton's Hill was in the possession of his brigade, without, as it seemed to us, any serious opposition. The artillery thenturned its attention to the other objectives of the attack. The Boerdetached left was, however, of considerable strength, and as soon asBarton had occupied this hill (which proved, moreover, far moreextensive than had been expected), he was heavily attacked by rifle firefrom its under features and from a network of dongas to the eastward, and as the Artillery were busy preparing the attack on Railway Hill, thebrigade, particularly the Scots and Irish Fusiliers, soon becameseverely engaged and suffered grievous loss. 

The fact that Barton's Hill was in our possession made the Boers onRailway and Inniskilling Hills very insecure. A powerful Infantry forcewas holding the left of their position, and though it was itself beingactively attacked on the eastern face, it could spare at least abattalion to assail their flank and threaten their rear. Covered by thisflanking fire, by the long-range musketry, and by a tremendousbombardment, in which every gun, from the lumbering 5 in. Siege guns tothe little 9-pounder mountain battery, joined, the main attack was nowlaunched. It proceeded simultaneously against Railway Hill, InniskillingHill, and the neck between them, but as the general line was placedobliquely across the Boer front, the attack fell first on Railway Hilland the neck. 

The right battalions drew up in many long lines on the sides of theriver gorge. Then men began gradually to work their way upwards, untilall the dead patches of ground and every scrap of cover sheltered afierce little group. Behind the railway embankment, among the rocks, inthe scrub, in a cutting, near a ruined house, clusters of men eagerlyawaited the decisive moment: and all this time more than seventy gunsconcentrated their fire on the entrenchments, scattering the stones andearth high in the air. Then, suddenly, shortly after four o'clock, allfurther attempts at advancing under cover were abandoned, and theLancashire Brigade marched proudly into the open ground and on theenemy's works. The Mauser musketry burst forth at once, and the bullets, humming through the assaulting waves of infantry, reached us on ourhillside and wounded a trooper in spite of the distance. But, bullets orno bullets, we could not take our eyes off the scene. 

The Lancashire Brigade advanced on a wide front. Norcott's Riflemen werealready prolonging their line to the right. The Boer fire was dispersedalong the whole front of attack, instead of converging on one narrowcolumn. The assault was going to succeed. We stood up on our rocks. Bayonets began to glitter on the distant slope. The moving linesincreased their pace. The heads of the Boers bobbing up and down intheir trenches grew fewer and fewer. They knew the tide was running toostrongly. Death and flight were thinning their ranks. Then the sky-lineof Railway Hill bristled with men, who dropped on their knees forthwithand fired in particular haste at something that was running away downthe other side. There was the sound of cheering. Railway Hill was ours. I looked to the left. 

The neck between the hills was lined with trenches. The South LancashireRegiment had halted, pinned to the ground by the Boer fire. Were theygoing to lose the day for us when it was already won? The question wassoon answered. In an instant there appeared on the left of the Boertrench a dozen--only a dozen--violent forms rushing forward. A smallparty had worked their way to the flank, and were at close quarters withcold steel. And then--by contrast to their former courage--the valiantburghers fled in all directions, and others held out their rifles andbandoliers and begged for mercy, which was sometimes generously given, so that by the time the whole attack had charged forward into thetrenches there was a nice string of thirty-two prisoners winding downthe hill: at which token of certain victory we shouted loudly. 

Inniskilling Hill alone remained, and that was almost in our hands. Itsslopes were on three sides alive with the active figures of the LightBrigade, and the bayonets sparkled. The hill ran into a peak. Many ofthe trenches were already deserted, but the stone breastwork at thesummit still contained defenders. There, painted against the eveningsky, were the slouch hats and moving rifles. Shell after shell explodedamong them: overhead, in their faces, in the trench itself, behind them, before them, around them. Sometimes five and six shells were bursting onthe very apex at the same instant. Showers of rock and splinters fell onall sides. 

Yet they held their ground and stayed in greater peril than was evermortal man before. But the infantry were drawing very near. At last theDutchmen fled. One, a huge fellow in a brown jersey, tarried to springon the parapet and empty his magazine once more into the approachingranks, and while he did so a 50 lb. Lyddite shell burst, as it seemed, in the midst of him, and the last defender of Inniskilling Hillvanished. 

Then the artillery put up their sights and began to throw their shellsover the crest of hill and ridge, so that they might overtake fugitives. The valleys behind fumed and stewed. Wreaths of dust and smoke curledupward. The infantry crowned the trenches all along the line, somefiring their rifles at the flying enemy, others beckoning to nearer folkto surrender, and they all cheered in the triumph of successful attacktill the glorious sound came down to us who watched, so that the wholearmy took up the shout, and all men knew that the battle of Pieters waswon. 

Forthwith came orders for the cavalry to cross the river, and we mountedin high expectation, knowing that behind the captured hill lay an openplain stretching almost to the foot of Bulwana. We galloped swiftly downto the pontoon bridge, and were about to pass over it, when theGeneral-in-Chief met us. He had ridden to the other bank to see forhimself and us. The Boer artillery were firing heavily to cover theretreat of their riflemen. He would not allow us to go across that nightlest we should lose heavily in horses. So the brigade returneddisappointed to its former position, watered horses, and selected abivouac. I was sent to warn the Naval Battery that a heavycounter-stroke would probably be made on the right of Barton's Brigadeduring the night, and, climbing the spur of Monte Cristo, on which theguns were placed, had a commanding view of the field. 

In the gathering darkness the Boer artillery, invisible all day, wasbetrayed by its flashes. Two 'pom-poms' flickered away steadily from thedirection of Doorn Kloof, making a regular succession of small brightflame points. Two more guns were firing from the hills to our left. Another was in action far away on our right. There may have been more, but even so it was not much artillery to oppose our eleven batteries. But it is almost an open question whether it is better to have many gunsto shoot at very little, or few guns to shoot at a great deal; hundredsof shells tearing up the ground or a dozen plunging into masses of men. Personally, I am convinced that future warfare will be to the few, bywhich I mean that to escape annihilation soldiers will have to fight inwidely dispersed formations, when they will have to think forthemselves, and when each must be to a great extent his own general; andwith regard to artillery, it appears that the advantages of defensiveaction, range, concealment, and individual initiative may easilycounterbalance numbers and discipline. The night fell upon thesereflections, and I hastened to rejoin the cavalry. 

On the way I passed through Sir Charles Warren's camp, and there found agang of prisoners--forty-eight of them--all in a row almost the samenumber that the Boers had taken in the armoured train. Looking at thesevery ordinary people, who grinned and chattered without dignity, and whomight, from their appearance, have been a knot of loafers round apublic-house, it was difficult to understand what qualities made themsuch a terrible foe. 

'Only forty-eight, sir, ' said a private soldier, who was guarding them, 'and there wouldn't have been so many as that if the orfcers hadn'tstopped us from giving them the bayonet. I never saw such cowards in mylife; shoot at you till you come up to them, and then beg for mercy. I'dteach 'em. ' With which remark he turned to the prisoners, who had justbeen issued rations of beef and biscuit, but who were also very thirsty, and began giving them water to drink from his own canteen, and so leftme wondering at the opposite and contradictory sides of human nature asshown by Briton as well as Boer. 

We got neither food nor blankets that night, and slept in ourwaterproofs on the ground; but we had at last that which was betterthan feast or couch, for which we had hungered and longed through manyweary weeks, which had been thrice forbidden us, and which was all themore splendid since it had been so long delayed--Victory. 

[Illustration: Map of the Operations of the Natal Field ArmyFebruary 14th to 28th. ]

CHAPTER XXVI

THE RELIEF OF LADYSMITH

Commandant's Office, Durban: March 9, 1900. 

The successful action of the 27th had given Sir Redvers Bullerpossession of the whole of the left and centre of the Pieters position, and in consequence of these large sections of their entrenchments havingfallen into British hands, the Boers evacuated the remainder andretreated westward on to the high hills and northward towards BulwanaMountain. 

About ninety prisoners were captured in the assault, and more than ahundred bodies were counted in the trenches. After making allowances forthe fact that these men were for the most part killed by shell fire, andthat therefore the proportion of killed to wounded would necessarily behigher than if the loss were caused by bullets, it seems probable thatno less than three hundred wounded were removed. Forty were collected byBritish ambulance parties. Of the Boers who were killed in the retreatno accurate estimate can be formed, but the dongas and kopjes beyond theposition were strewn with occasional corpses. Undoubtedly the enemy washard hit in personnel, and the fact that we had taken two miles ofentrenchments as well as considerable stores of ammunition proved that avery definite and substantial success had been won. 

But we were not prepared for the complete results that followed theoperations of the 27th. Neither the General nor his army expected toenter Ladysmith without another action. Before us a smooth plain, apparently unobstructed, ran to the foot of Bulwana, but from thisforbidding eminence a line of ridges and kopjes was drawn to the highhills of Doorn Kloof, and seemed to interpose another serious barrier. It was true that this last position was within range, or almost withinrange, of Sir George White's guns, so that its defenders might becaught between two fires, but we knew, and thought the Boers knew, thatthe Ladysmith garrison was too feeble from want of food and otherprivations to count for very much. So Sir Redvers Buller, facing theleast satisfactory assumption, determined to rest his army on the 28th, and attack Bulwana Hill on March 1. 

He accordingly sent a message by heliograph into Ladysmith to say thathe had beaten the enemy thoroughly, and was sending on his cavalry toreconnoitre. Ladysmith had informed herself, however, of the state ofthe game. Captain Tilney, from his balloon, observed all that passed inthe enemy's lines on the morning of the 28th. At first, when he heard noartillery fire, he was depressed, and feared lest the relieving army hadretreated again. Then, as it became day, he was sure that this was notso, for the infantry in crowds were occupying the Boer position, and themounted patrols pricked forward into the plain. Presently he saw theBoers rounding up their cattle and driving them off to the north. Nextthey caught and began to saddle their horses. The great white tiltedwaggons of the various laagers filed along the road around the easternend of Bulwana. Lastly, up went a pair of shears over 'Long Tom, ' and atthis he descended to the earth with the good news that the enemy wereoff at last. 

The garrison, however, had been mocked by false hopes before, and allsteeled themselves to wait 'at least another ten days. '

Meanwhile, since there was no fire from the enemy's side, our cavalryand artillery were rapidly and safely crossing the river. There was aconsiderable block at the bridge when the South African Light Horsearrived, and we had full leisure to examine the traffic. Guns, men, horses, and mules were hurrying across to the northern bank, and anopposing stream of wounded flowed steadily back to the south. I watchedthese with interest. 

First came a young officer riding a pony and smoking a cigarette, butvery pale and with his left arm covered with bloody bandages. Brookegreeted him and asked, 'Bone ?' 'Yes, ' replied the subalternlaconically, 'shoulder smashed up. ' We expressed our sympathy. 'Oh, that's all right; good show, wasn't it? The men are awfully pleased;'and he rode slowly on up the hill--the type of an unyielding race--andstoical besides; for wounds, especially shattered bones, grow painfulafter twelve or fourteen hours. A string of wounded passed by onstretchers, some lying quite still, others sitting up and looking aboutthem; one, also an officer, a dark, black-moustached captain, whose eyeswere covered with a bandage, kept his bearers busy with continualimpatient questions. 'Yes, but what I want to know is this, did they getinto them with the bayonet?' The volunteer stretcher-bearers could makeno satisfactory reply, but said, 'Yes, they give 'em 'ell, sir. ' 'Where, on the left of Railway Hill?' 'Oh, everywhere, sir. ' The group passedby, and the last thing I heard was, 'How much of the artillery hascrossed? Are they sending the cavalry over? What the . .. '

Presently came stretchers with wounded Boers. Most of these poorcreatures were fearfully shattered. One tall man with a great fiercebeard and fine features had a fragment of rock or iron driven throughhis liver. He was, moreover, stained bright yellow with lyddite, but didnot seem in much pain, for he looked very calm and stolid. The lessseriously injured among the soldiers hobbled back alone or assisted bytheir comrades. 

I asked a smart-looking sergeant of the Dublin Fusiliers, who waslimping along with a broken foot, whether the regiment had been againheavily engaged. Of course they had. 

'Sure, we're always in the thick of it, sorr. Mr. ---- was hit; no, notbadly; only his wrist, but there's not many of the officers left; onlytwo now who were at Talana. '

At last the time came for the cavalry to cross the bridge, and as wefiled on to the floating roadway we were amused to see a largefingerpost at the entrance, on which the engineers had neatly painted, 'To Ladysmith. ' The brigade passed over the neck between Railway andInniskilling Hills, and we massed in a suitable place on the descendingslopes beyond. We looked at the country before us, and saw that it wasgood. Here at last was ground cavalry could work on at some speed. Ladysmith was still hidden by the remaining ridges, but we thought thatsomehow, and with a little luck, we might have a look at it beforenight. 

Under Bulwana the waggons of the Boers and several hundred horsemencould be seen hurrying away. It was clearly our business to try tointercept them unless they had made good covering dispositions. Patrolswere sent out in all directions, and a squadron of Thorneycroft'sMounted Infantry proceeded to Pieters Station, where a complete train ofabout twenty trucks had been abandoned by the enemy. While thisreconnaissance was going on I climbed up Inniskilling Hill to examinethe trenches. It was occupied by the East Surrey Regiment, and thesoldiers were very eager to do the honours. They had several things toshow: 'Come along here, sir; there's a bloke here without a head; tookclean off, sir;' and were mightily disappointed that I would not letthem remove the blanket which covered the grisly shape. 

The trench was cut deep in the ground, and, unlike our trenches, therewas scarcely any parapet. A few great stones had been laid in front, butevidently the Boer believed in getting well into the ground. The bottomwas knee deep in cartridge cases, and every few yards there was anenormous heap of Mauser ammunition, thousands of rounds, all fastenedneatly, five at a time, in clips. A large proportion were covered withbright green slime, which the soldiers declared was poison, but which onanalysis may prove to be wax, used to preserve the bullet. 

The Boers, however, were not so guiltless of other charges. A fieldofficer of the East Surreys, recognising me, came up and showed me anexpansive bullet of a particularly cruel pattern. The tip had been cutoff, exposing the soft core, and four slits were scored down the side. Whole boxes of this ammunition had been found. An officer who had beenmaking calculations told me that the proportion of illegal bullets wasnearly one in five. I should not myself have thought it was so large, but certainly the improper bullets were very numerous. I have a specimenof this particular kind by me as I write, and I am informed by peoplewho shoot big game that it is the most severe bullet of its kind yetinvented. Five other sorts have been collected by the medical officers, who have also tried to classify the wounds they respectively produce. 

I cannot be accused of having written unfairly about the enemy; indeed, I have only cared to write what I thought was the truth about everybody. I have tried to do justice to the patriotic virtues of the Boers, and itis now necessary to observe that the character of these people reveals, in stress, a dark and spiteful underside. A man--I use the word in itsfullest sense--does not wish to lacerate his foe, however earnestly hemay desire his life. 

The popping of musketry made me hasten to rejoin my regiment. Thesquadron of mounted infantry had reached Pieters Railway Station, onlyto be heavily fired on from a low hill to the westward; and they nowcame scampering back with half a dozen riderless horses. Happily, theriders mostly arrived on foot after a few minutes. But it was evidentlynecessary to push forward very carefully. Indeed, it is hard to imaginehow pursuits will occur in future war. A hundred bold men with magazinerifles on a ridge can delay a whole army. The cavalry must reconnoitreand retire. Infantry and guns must push forward. Meanwhile the beatentroops are moving steadily to safety. 

In a little while--to revert to the narrative--the horse artillerybattery came up, and the offending hill was conscientiously shelled foran hour. Then the patrols crept forward again, but progress wasnecessarily slow. We were still six miles from Ladysmith at threeo'clock. 

At this hour the Boer ambulances had been invited to come for such oftheir wounded as could be moved, for since the enemy returned ourwounded from Spion Kop we have followed the practice of sending backtheirs on all occasions should they prefer it. 

Anxious to find out the impression produced on the Boers by the lateactions, I hastened to meet the ambulances, which, preceded by threehorsemen carrying a large white flag, were now coming from the directionof Bulwana. They were stopped at our cavalry picket line, and a reportof their arrival was sent back to the nearest brigadier. Their leaderwas a fine old fellow of the genuine veldt Boer type. He spoke Englishfluently, and we were soon in conversation. 

Cronje's surrender had been officially announced to us on the previousday, and I inquired whether he had heard of it. He replied that he knewCronje was in difficulties, but understood he had managed to escape withhis army. As for the surrender, it might be true or it might be false. 'We are told so many lies that we believe nothing. '

But his next remark showed that he realised that the tide had begun toturn. 'I don't know what we poor Afrikanders have done that Englandwon't let us be a nation. ' I would have replied that I remembered havingheard something about 'driving the English into the sea, ' but I havebeen over this ground before in every sense, and knew the futility ofany discussion. Indeed, when the debate is being conducted with shells, bullets, and bayonets, words are feeble weapons. So I said with an ironywhich was quite lost on him, 'It must be all those damned capitalists, 'and this, of course, won his complete agreement, so that he confidedthat losing the position we had taken on the 27th was 'a sore and bitterblow. '

It happened that two squadrons of the 13th Hussars had ridden forwardbeyond us towards Bulwana, and at this moment the Boer artillery beganto shell them rather heavily. We watched the proceedings for a fewminutes, and the Boer was much astonished to see soldiers ridingleisurely forward in regular though open order without paying theslightest attention to the shrapnel. Then several more squadrons wereordered to support the reconnaissance. A great company of horsemenjingled past the halted ambulances and cantered off in the direction ofthe firing. My companion regarded these steadfastly, then he said:

'Why do they all look so pleased?'

'Because they think they are going to fight; but they will not beallowed to. It is only desired to draw your fire and reconnoitre. '

The whole plain was now occupied by cavalry, both brigades being on themove. 

'Little did we think a week ago, ' said the Boer, 'that we should seesuch a sight as this, here in this plain. '

'Didn't you think we should get through?'

'No, we didn't believe it possible. '

'And you find the soldiers brave?'

'They do not care for life. '

'And Ladysmith?'

'Ah, ' his eye brightened, 'there's pluck, if you like. Wonderful!'

Then we agreed that it was a sad and terrible war, and whoever won wewould make the gold mines pay, so that 'the damned capitalists' shouldnot think they had scored, and thus we parted. 

I afterwards learned that the Boer ambulances removed twenty-seven oftheir wounded. The condition of the others was too serious to allow oftheir being moved, and in spite of every attention they all died whilein our hands. 

When I rejoined the South African Light Horse the Irregular Brigade hadbegun to advance again. Major Gough's Composite Regiment had scouted thedistant ridge and found it unoccupied. Now Dundonald moved his wholecommand thither, and with his staff climbed to the top. But to ourdisappointment Ladysmith was not to be seen. Two or three other ridgeshung like curtains before us. The afternoon had passed, and it wasalready after six o'clock. The Boer artillery was still firing, and itseemed rash to attempt to reconnoitre further when the ground was brokenand the light fading. 

The order was given to retire and the movement had actually begun whena messenger came back from Gough with the news that the last ridgebetween us and the town was unoccupied by the enemy, that he could seeLadysmith, and that there was, for the moment, a clear run in. Dundonaldimmediately determined to go on himself into the town with the twosquadrons who were scouting in front, and to send the rest of thebrigade back to camp. He invited me to accompany him, and without delaywe started at a gallop. 

Never shall I forget that ride. The evening was deliciously cool. Myhorse was strong and fresh, for I had changed him at midday. The groundwas rough with many stones, but we cared little for that. Beyond thenext ridge, or the rise beyond that, or around the corner of the hill, was Ladysmith--the goal of all our hopes and ambitions during weeks ofalmost ceaseless fighting. Ladysmith--the centre of the world'sattention, the scene of famous deeds, the cause of mightyefforts--Ladysmith was within our reach at last. We were going to beinside the town within an hour. The excitement of the moment wasincreased by the exhilaration of the gallop. Onward wildly, recklessly, up and down hill, over the boulders, through the scrub, Hubert Goughwith his two squadrons, Mackenzie's Natal Carabineers and the ImperialLight Horse, were clear of the ridges already. We turned the shoulder ofa hill, and there before us lay the tin houses and dark trees we hadcome so far to see and save. 

The British guns on Cĉsar's Camp were firing steadily in spite of thetwilight. What was happening? Never mind, we were nearly through thedangerous ground. Now we were all on the flat. Brigadier, staff, andtroops let their horses go. We raced through the thorn bushes by IntombiSpruit. 

Suddenly there was a challenge. 'Halt, who goes there?' 'The LadysmithRelief Column, ' and thereat from out of trenches and rifle pits artfullyconcealed in the scrub a score of tattered men came running, cheeringfeebly, and some were crying. In the half light they looked ghastly paleand thin. A poor, white-faced officer waved his helmet to and fro, andlaughed foolishly, and the tall, strong colonial horsemen, standing upin their stirrups, raised a loud resounding cheer, for then we knew wehad reached the Ladysmith picket line. 

Presently we arranged ourselves in military order, Natal Carabineers andImperial Light Horse riding two and two abreast so that there might beno question about precedence, and with Gough, the youngest regimentalcommander in the army, and one of the best, at the head of the column, we forded the Klip River and rode into the town. 

That night I dined with Sir George White, who had held the town for fourmonths against all comers, and was placed next to Hamilton, who won thefight at Elandslaagte and beat the Boers off Waggon Hill, and next butone to Hunter, whom everyone said was the finest man in the vorld. Neverbefore had I sat in such brave company nor stood so close to a greatevent. As the war drives slowly to its close more substantial triumphs, larger battles, wherein the enemy suffers heavier loss, the capture oftowns, and the surrender of armies may mark its progress. But whatevervictories the future may have in store, the defence and relief ofLadysmith, because they afford, perhaps, the most remarkable examples ofnational tenacity and perseverance which our later history contains, will not be soon forgotten by the British people, whether at home or inthe Colonies. 

CHAPTER XXVII

AFTER THE SIEGE

Durban: March 10, 1900. 

Since the road by which Dundonald's squadrons had entered the town wasnever again closed by the enemy, the siege of Ladysmith may be said tohave ended on the last day of February. During the night the heavy gunsfired at intervals, using up the carefully husbanded ammunition in orderto prevent the Boers from removing their artillery. 

On March 1 the garrison reverted to a full half-ration of biscuits andhorseflesh, and an attempt was made to harass the Boers, who were infull retreat towards the Biggarsberg. Sir George White had made carefulinquiries among the regiments for men who would undertake to walk fivemiles and fight at the end of the march. But so reduced were thesoldiers through want of food that, though many volunteered, only twothousand men were considered fit out of the whole garrison. These were, however, formed into a column, under Colonel Knox, consisting of twobatteries of artillery, two squadrons of the 19th Hussars and 5thLancers, 'all that was left of them, ' with horses, and detachments, eachabout two hundred and fifty strong, from the Manchester, Liverpool, andDevon Regiments, the 60th Rifles, and the Gordon Highlanders, and thisforce moved out of Ladysmith at dawn on the 1st to attack the Boers onPepworth's Hill, in the hope of interfering with their entrainment atModderspruit Station. 

The Dutch, however, had left a rear guard sufficient to hold in check sosmall a force, and it was 2 o'clock before Pepworth's Hill was occupied. The batteries then shelled Modderspruit Station, and very nearly caughtthree crowded trains, which just managed to steam out of range in time. The whole force of men and horses was by this time quite exhausted. Themen could scarcely carry their rifles. In the squadron of 19th Hussarsnine horses out of sixty fell down and died, and Colonel Knox thereforeordered the withdrawal into the town. 

Only about a dozen men were killed or wounded in this affair, but thefact that the garrison was capable of making any offensive movementafter their privations is a manifest proof of their soldierly spirit andexcellent discipline. 

On the same morning Sir Redvers Buller advanced on Bulwana Hill. Downfrom the commanding positions which they had won by their courage andendurance marched the incomparable infantry, and by 2 o'clock the plainof Pieters was thickly occupied by successive lines of men in extendedorder, with long columns of guns and transport trailing behind them. Shortly before noon it was ascertained that Bulwana Hill was abandonedby the enemy, and the army was thereon ordered to camp in the plain, nofurther fighting being necessary. 

The failure to pursue the retreating Boers when two fine cavalrybrigades were standing idle and eager must be noticed. It is probablethat the Boer rearguard would have been sufficiently strong to requireboth infantry and guns to drive it back. It is certain that sharpfighting must have attended the effort. Nevertheless the opiniongenerally expressed was that it should have been made. My personalimpression is that Sir Redvers Buller was deeply moved by the heavylosses the troops had suffered, and was reluctant to demand furthersacrifices from them at this time. Indeed, the price of victory had beena high one. 

In the fortnight's fighting, from February 14 to February 28, twogenerals, six colonels commanding regiments, a hundred and five otherofficers, and one thousand five hundred and eleven soldiers had beenkilled or wounded out of an engaged force of about eighteen thousandmen; a proportion of slightly under 10 per cent. 

In the whole series of operations for the relief of Ladysmith the lossesamounted to three hundred officers and more than five thousand men, outof a total engaged force of about twenty-three thousand, a proportionof rather more than 20 per cent. Nor had this loss been inflicted in asingle day's victorious battle, but was spread over twenty-five days ofgeneral action in a period of ten weeks; and until the last week nodecided success had cheered the troops. 

The stress of the campaign, moreover, had fallen with peculiar force oncertain regiments: the Lancashire Fusiliers sustained losses of over 35per cent. , the Inniskillings of 40 per cent. , and the Dublin Fusiliersof over 60 per cent. It was very remarkable that the fighting efficiencyof these regiments was in no way impaired by such serious reductions. The casualties among the officers maintained their usual gloriousdisproportion, six or seven regiments in the army having less than eightofficers left alive and unwounded. Among the cavalry the heaviest lossesoccurred in Dundonald's Brigade, the South African Light Horse, Thorneycroft's Mounted Infantry, and the squadron of Imperial LightHorse, each losing a little less than a quarter of their strength. 

The ceaseless marching and fighting had worn out the clothes and bootsof the army, and a certain number of the guns of the field artillerywere unserviceable through constant firing. The troops, besides clothes, needed fresh meat, an exclusive diet of tinned food being unwholesome ifunduly prolonged. Sir Redvers Buller's estimate that a week's rest wasneeded does not seem excessive by the light of such facts, but still onemore effort might have saved much trouble later on. On March 3 therelieving army made its triumphal entry into Ladysmith, and passingthrough the town camped on the plain beyond. The scene was solemn andstirring, and only the most phlegmatic were able to conceal theiremotions. The streets were lined with the brave defenders, looking verysmart and clean in their best clothes, but pale, thin, andwasp-waisted--their belts several holes tighter than was satisfactory. 

Before the little Town Hall, the tower of which, sorely battered, yetunyielding, seemed to symbolise the spirit of the garrison, Sir GeorgeWhite and his staff sat on their skeleton horses. Opposite to them weredrawn up the pipers of the Gordon Highlanders. The townsfolk, hollow-eyed but jubilant, crowded the pavement and the windows of thehouses. Everyone who could find a flag had hung it out, but we needed nobright colours to raise our spirits. 

At eleven o'clock precisely the relieving army began to march into thetown. First of all rode Sir Redvers Buller with his headquarters staffand an escort of the Royal Dragoons. The infantry and artillery followedby brigades, but in front of all, as a special recognition of theirdevoted valour, marched the Dublin Fusiliers, few, but proud. 

Many of the soldiers, remembering their emerald island, had fastenedsprigs of green to their helmets, and all marched with a swing that waswonderful to watch. Their Colonel and their four officers looked ashappy as kings are thought to be. As the regiments passed Sir GeorgeWhite, the men recognised their former general, and, disdaining therules of the service, waved their helmets and rifles, and cheered himwith intense enthusiasm. Some even broke from the ranks. Seeing this theGordon Highlanders began to cheer the Dublins, and after that the noiseof cheering was continual, every regiment as it passed giving andreceiving fresh ovations. 

All through the morning and on into the afternoon the long stream of menand guns flowed through the streets of Ladysmith, and all marvelled tosee what manner of men these were--dirty, war-worn, travel-stained, tanned, their uniforms in tatters, their boots falling to pieces, theirhelmets dinted and broken, but nevertheless magnificent soldiers, striding along, deep-chested and broad-shouldered, with the light oftriumph in their eyes and the blood of fighting ancestors in theirveins. It was a procession of lions. And presently, when the twobattalions of Devons met--both full of honours--and old friends breakingfrom the ranks gripped each other's hands and shouted, everyone wascarried away, and I waved my feathered hat, and cheered and cheereduntil I could cheer no longer for joy that I had lived to see the day. 

At length all was over. The last dust-brown battalion had passed awayand the roadway was again clear. Yet the ceremony was incomplete. Beforethe staff could ride away the Mayor of Ladysmith advanced and requestedSir George White to receive an address which the townspeople hadprepared and were anxious to present to him. The General dismounted fromhis horse, and standing on the steps of the Town Hall, in the midst ofthe inhabitants whom he had ruled so rigorously during the hard monthsof the siege, listened while their Town Clerk read their earnestgrateful thanks to him for saving their town from the hands of theenemy. The General replied briefly, complimented them on their behaviourduring the siege, thanked them for the way in which they had borne theirmany hardships and submitted to the severe restrictions which thecircumstances of war had brought on them, and rejoiced with them thatthey had been enabled by their devotion and by the bravery of thesoldiers to keep the Queen's flag flying over Ladysmith. And theneverybody cheered everybody else, and so, very tired and very happy, weall went home to our belated luncheons. 

Walking through the streets it was difficult to see many signs of thebombardment. The tower of the Town Hall was smashed and chipped, severalhouses showed large holes in their walls, and heaps of broken brickworklay here and there. But on the whole the impression produced was one ofsurprise that the Boers had done so little damage with the sixteenthousand shells they had fired during the siege. 

On entering the houses, however, the effect was more apparent. In onethe floor was ripped up, in another the daylight gleamed through thecorrugated iron roof, and in some houses the inner walls had beencompletely destroyed, and only heaps of rubbish lay on the floor. 

The fortifications which the troops had built, though of a very strongand effective character, were neither imposing nor conspicuous; indeed, being composed of heaps of stone they were visible only as dark lines onthe rugged kopjes, and if the fame of the town were to depend on relicsof the war it would not long survive the siege. 

But memories dwell among the tin houses and on the stony hills that willkeep the name of Ladysmith fresh and full of meaning in the hearts ofour countrymen. Every trench, every mound has its own tale to tell, someof them sad, but not one shameful. Here and there, scattered through thescrub by the river or on the hills of red stones almost red hot in thesun blaze, rise the wooden crosses which mark the graves of Britishsoldiers. Near the iron bridge a considerable granite pyramid recordsthe spot where Dick Cunyngham, colonel of the Gordons--what prouderoffice could a man hold?--fell mortally wounded on the 6th of January. Another monument is being built on Waggon Hill to commemorate the bravemen of the Imperial Light Horse who lost their lives but saved the day. The place is also marked where the noble Ava fell. 

But there was one who found, to use his own words, 'a strange sidewayout of Ladysmith, ' whose memory many English-speaking people willpreserve. I do not write of Steevens as a journalist, nor as the masterof a popular and pleasing style, but as a man. I knew him, though I hadmet him rarely. A dinner up the Nile, a chance meeting at an Indianjunction, five days on a Mediterranean steamer, two in a Continentalexpress, and a long Sunday at his house near Merton--it was a scantyacquaintance, but sufficient to be quite certain that in all the variedcircumstances and conditions to which men are subjected Steevens rangtrue. Modest yet proud, wise as well as witty, cynical but above allthings sincere, he combined the characters of a charming companion and agood comrade. 

His conversation and his private letters sparkled like his books andarticles. Original expressions, just similitudes, striking phrases, quaint or droll ideas welled in his mind without the slightest effort. He was always at his best. I have never met a man who talked so well, so easily. His wit was the genuine article--absolutely natural andspontaneous. 

I once heard him describe an incident in the Nile campaign, and thedescription amused me so much that I was impatient to hear it again, andwhen a suitable occasion offered I asked him to tell his tale to theothers. But he told it quite differently, and left me wondering whichversion was the better. He could not repeat himself if he tried, whereasmost of the renowned talkers I have met will go over the old impressionwith the certainty of a phonograph. 

But enough of his words. He was not a soldier, but he walked into theAtbara zareba with the leading company of the Seaforth Highlanders. Hewrote a vivid account of the attack, but there was nothing in it abouthimself. 

When the investment of Ladysmith shut the door on soldiers, townspeople, and War Correspondents alike, Steevens set to work to do his share ofkeeping up the good spirits of the garrison and of relieving themonotony of the long days. Through the first three months of the siegeno local event was awaited with more interest than the publication of a'Ladysmith Lyre, ' and the weary defenders had many a good laugh at itswitticisms. 

Sun, stink, and sickness harassed the beleaguered. The bombardment wasperpetual, the relief always delayed; hope again and again deferred. Butnothing daunted Steevens, depressed his courage, or curbed his wit. Whatsuch a man is worth in gloomy days those may appreciate who have seenthe effect of public misfortunes on a modern community. 

At last he was himself stricken down by enteric fever. When it seemedthat the worst was over there came a fatal relapse, and the brightestIntellect yet sacrificed by this war perished; nor among all thestubborn garrison of Ladysmith was there a stouter heart or a moreenduring spirit. 

Dismal scenes were to be found at the hospital camp by Intombi Spruit. Here, in a town of white tents, under the shadow of Bulwana, werecollected upwards of two thousand sick and wounded--a fifth of theentire garrison. They were spared the shells, but exposed to all theprivations of the siege. 

Officers and men, doctors and patients, presented alike a mostmelancholy and even ghastly appearance. Men had been wounded, had beencured of their wounds, and had died simply because there was nonourishing food to restore their strength. Others had becomeconvalescent from fever, but had succumbed from depression and lack ofmedical comforts. Hundreds required milk and brandy, but there was onlywater to give them. The weak died: at one time the death rate averagedfifteen a day. Nearly a tenth of the whole garrison died of disease. Aforest of crosses, marking the graves of six hundred men, sprang upbehind the camp. 

It was a painful thing to watch the hungry patients, so haggard and wornthat their friends could scarcely recognise them; and after a visit toIntombi I sat and gloated for an hour at the long train of waggonsfilled with all kinds of necessary comforts which crawled along theroads, and the relief of Ladysmith seemed more than ever worth the heavyprice we had paid. 

On the evening after Buller's victorious army had entered the town Iwent to see Sir George White, and was so fortunate as to find him aloneand disengaged. The General received me in a room the windows of whichgave a wide view of the defences. Bulwana, Caesar's Camp, Waggon Hilllay before us, and beneath--for the house stood on high ground--spreadthe blue roofs of Ladysmith. From the conversation that followed, andfrom my own knowledge of events, I shall endeavour to explain so far asis at present possible the course of the campaign in Natal; and I willask the reader to observe that only the remarks actually quoted shouldbe attributed to the various officers. 

Sir George White told me how he had reached Natal less than a weekbefore the declaration of war. He found certain arrangements in progressto meet a swiftly approaching emergency, and he had to choose betweenupsetting all these plans and entirely reconstructing the scheme ofdefence, or of accepting what was already done as the groundwork of hisoperations. 

Sir Penn Symons, who had been commanding in the Colony, and who waspresumably best qualified to form an opinion on the militarynecessities, extravagantly underrated the Boer fighting power. Some ofhis calculations of the force necessary to hold various places seemincredible in the light of recent events. But everyone was wrong aboutthe Boers, and the more they knew the worse they erred. Symons laughedat the Boer military strength, and laboured to impress his opinions onSir George White, who having Hamilton's South African experience to fallback on, however, took a much more serious view of the situation, andwas particularly disturbed at the advanced position of the troops atDundee. He wanted to withdraw them. Symons urged the oppositeconsiderations vehemently. He was a man of great personal force, and hismanner carried people with him. 'Besides, ' said the General, with akindling eye and extraordinary emphasis, 'he was a good, brave fightingman, and you know how much that is worth in war. '

In spite of Symons's confidence and enthusiasm White hated to leavetroops at Dundee, and Sir Archibald Hunter, his chief of staff, agreedwith him. But not to occupy a place is one thing: to abandon it after ithas been occupied another. 

They decided to ask Sir Walter Hely-Hutchinson what consequences wouldin his opinion follow a withdrawal. They visited him at ten o'clock atnight, and put the question straightly. Thus appealed to, the Governordeclared that in that event 'loyalists' would be disgusted anddiscouraged; the results as regards the Dutch would be grave, many, ifnot most, would very likely rise, believing us to be afraid . .. And theeffect on the natives, of whom there are some 750, 000 in Natal andZululand, might be disastrous. '

On hearing this opinion expressed by a man of the Governor's ability andlocal knowledge, Sir Archibald Hunter said that it was a question 'ofbalancing drawbacks, ' and advised that the troops be retained atGlencoe. So the matter was clinched, 'and, ' said Sir George, 'when Imade up my mind to let Symons stay I shared and shared alike with him inthe matter of troops, giving him three batteries, a regiment, and aninfantry brigade, and keeping the same myself. '

For his share in this discussion the Governor was at one time subjectedto a considerable volume of abuse in the public Press, it being chargedagainst him that he had 'interfered' with the military arrangements. 

Sir Walter Hely-Hutchinson, with whom I have had many pleasant talks, makes this invariable reply: 'I never said a word to Sir George Whiteuntil I was asked. When my opinion was called for I gave it according tothe best of my judgment. '

In the actual event Dundee had to be abandoned, nor was this adeliberate evacuation arising out of any regular military policy, but aswift retreat without stores or wounded, compelled by the force of theenemy. 

It is, therefore, worth while considering how far the Governor'sjudgment had been vindicated by events. Undoubtedly loyalists throughoutthe Colony were disgusted, and that they were not discouraged was mainlydue to the fact that with the Anglo-Saxon peoples anger at the injuryusually overcomes dismay. The effect on the Dutch was grave, but wasconsiderably modified by the electrical influence of the victory ofElandslaagte, and the spectacle of Boer prisoners marching southward. 

The whole of the Klip River country, however, rose, and many prominentNatal Dutch farmers joined the enemy. The loyalty of the natives aloneexceeded the Governor's anticipations, and their belief in the Britishpower and preference for British rule was found to stand more knockingabout than those best able to judge expected. We have reaped a richreward in this dark season for having consistently pursued a kindly andhumane policy towards the Bantu races; and the Boers have paid a heavypenalty for their cruelty and harshness. 

On the subject of holding Ladysmith Sir George White was quite clear. 'I never wanted to abandon Ladysmith; I considered it a place of primaryimportance to hold. It was on Ladysmith that both Republics concentratedtheir first efforts. Here, where the railways join, the armies of theFree State and the Transvaal were to unite, and the capture of the townwas to seal their union. '

It is now certain that Ladysmith was an essential to the carefullythought out Boer plan of campaign. To make quite sure of victory theydirected twenty-five thousand of their best men on it under theCommandant-General himself. Flushed with the spirit of invasion, theyscarcely reckoned on a fortnight's resistance; nor in their wildestnightmares did they conceive a four months' siege terminating in thefurious inroad of a relieving army. 

Exasperated at unexpected opposition--for they underrated us even morethan we underrated them--they sacrificed around Ladysmith their chancesof taking Pietermaritzburg and raiding all Natal; and it is moreoverincontestable that in their resolve to take the town, on which they hadset their hearts, they were provoked into close fighting with SirRedvers Buller's army, and even to make an actual assault on thedefences of Ladysmith, and so suffered far heavier losses than couldotherwise have been inflicted on so elusive an enemy in such brokencountry. 

'Besides, ' said the General, 'I had no choice in the matter. I did notwant to leave Ladysmith, but even if I had wanted, it would have beenimpossible. '

He then explained how not only the moral value, the politicalsignificance of Ladysmith, and the great magazines accumulated thererendered it desirable to hold the town, but that the shortness of time, the necessity of evacuating the civil population, and of helping in theDundee garrison, made its retention actually obligatory. 

Passing to the actual siege of the town, Sir George White said that hehad decided to make an active defence in order to keep the enemy'sattention fixed on his force, and so prevent them from invading SouthNatal before the reinforcements could arrive. With that object he hadfought the action of October 30, which had turned out so disastrously. After that he fell back on his entrenchments, and the blockade began. 

'The experience we had gained of the long-range guns possessed by theenemy, ' said Sir George, 'made it necessary for me to occupy a verylarge area of ground, and I had to extend my lines accordingly. My linesare now nearly fourteen miles in circumference. If I had taken up asmaller position we should have been pounded to death. '

He said that the fact that they had plenty of room alone enabled them tolive, for the shell fire was thus spread over a large area, and, as itwere, diluted. Besides this the cattle were enabled to find grazing, butthese extended lines were also a source of weakness. At one time onseveral sections of the defences the garrison could only provide twohundred men to the mile. 

'That is scarcely the prescribed proportion. I would like to haveoccupied Bulwana, in which case we should have been quite comfortable, but I did not dare extend my lines any further. It was better to endurethe bombardment than to run the risk of being stormed. Because my lineswere so extended I was compelled to keep all the cavalry in Ladysmith. '

Until they began to eat instead of feed the horses this powerful mountedforce, upwards of three thousand strong, had been his mobile, almost hisonly reserve. Used in conjunction with an elaborate system of telephonesthe cavalry from their central position could powerfully reinforce anythreatened section. 

The value of this was proved on January 6. The General thought that thefierce assault delivered by the enemy on that day vindicated his policyin not occupying Bulwana and in keeping his cavalry within the town, onboth of which points he had been much criticised. 

He spoke with some bitterness of the attacks which had been made on himin the newspapers. He had always begged that the relieving operationsshould not be compromised by any hurry on his account, and he said, with earnestness, 'It is not fair to charge me with all the loss of lifethey have involved. ' He concluded by saying, deliberately: 'I regretNicholson's Nek; perhaps I was rash then, but it was my only chance ofstriking a heavy blow. I regret nothing else. It may be that I am anobstinate man to say so, but if I had the last five months to live overagain I would not--with that exception---do otherwise than I have done. '

And then I came away and thought of the cheers of the relieving troops. Never before had I heard soldiers cheer like that. There was not muchdoubt about the verdict of the army on Sir George White's conduct of thedefence, and it is one which the nation may gracefully accept. 

But I am anxious also to discuss the Ladysmith episode from Sir RedversBuller's point of view. This officer reached Cape Town on the very daythat White was driven back on Ladysmith. His army, which would notarrive for several weeks, was calculated to be strong enough to overcomethe utmost resistance the Boer Republics could offer. 

To what extent he was responsible for the estimates of the number oftroops necessary is not known. It is certain, however, thateveryone--Ministers, generals, colonists, and intelligenceofficers--concurred in making a most remarkable miscalculation. 

It reminds me of Jules Verne's story of the men who planned to shift theaxis of the earth by the discharge of a great cannon. Everything wasarranged. The calculations were exact to the most minute fraction. Theworld stood aghast at the impending explosion. But the men of science, whose figures were otherwise so accurate, had left out a nought, andtheir whole plan came to nothing. So it was with the British. Theiroriginal design of a containing division in Natal, and an invading armyof three divisions in the Free State, would have been excellent if onlythey had written army corps instead of division. 

Buller found himself confronted with an alarming and critical situationin Natal. Practically the whole force which had been deemed sufficientto protect the Colony was locked up in Ladysmith, and only a few line ofcommunication troops stood between the enemy and the capital or even theseaport. Plainly, therefore, strong reinforcements--at least adivision--must be hurried to Natal without an hour's unnecessary delay. 

When these troops were subtracted from the forces in the Cape Colony allprospect of pursuing the original plan of invading the Free State wasdestroyed. It was evident that the war would assume dimensions which noone had ever contemplated. 

The first thing to be done therefore was to grapple with the immediateemergencies, and await the arrival of the necessary troops to carry onthe war on an altogether larger scale. Natal was the most acutesituation. But there were others scarcely less serious and critical. TheCape Colony was quivering with rebellion. The Republican forces wereeverywhere advancing. Kimberley and Mafeking were isolated. A smallBritish garrison held a dangerous position at Orange River bridge. Nearly all the other bridges had been seized or destroyed by rebels orinvaders. 

From every quarter came clamourings for troops. Soldiers were wantedwith vital need at Stormberg, at Rosmead Junction, at Colesberg, at DeAar, but most of all they were wanted in Natal--Natal, which had beenpromised protection 'with the whole force of the Empire, ' and which wasalready half overrun and the rest almost defenceless. So the army corps, which was to have marched irresistibly to Bloemfontein and Pretoria, hadto be hurled into the country--each unit as it arrived--wherever theneed was greatest where all were great. 

Sir Redvers Buller, thus assailed by the unforeseen and pressed on everyside, had to make up his mind quickly. He looked to Natal. It was therethat the fiercest fighting was in progress and that the strength andvigour of the enemy was apparently most formidable. He had alwaysregarded the line of the Tugela as the only defensive line which Britishforces would be strong enough to hold, and had recorded his opinionagainst placing any troops north of that river. 

In spite of this warning Ladysmith had been made a great military depot, and had consequently come to be considered a place of primaryimportance. It was again a question of balancing drawbacks. Bullertherefore telegraphed to White asking him whether he could entrench andmaintain himself pending the arrival of reinforcements. White repliedthat he was prepared to make a prolonged defence of Ladysmith. To thisproposal the General-in-chief assented, observing only 'but the line ofthe Tugela is very tempting. '

General Buller's plan now seems to have been briefly as follows: First, to establish a _modus vivendi_ in the Cape Colony, with sufficienttroops to stand strictly on the defensive; secondly, to send a strongforce to Natal, and either restore the situation there, or, failingthat, extricate Sir George White so that his troops would be againavailable for the defence of the Southern portion of the Colony;thirdly, with what was left of the army corps--no longer strong enoughto invade the Free State--to relieve Kimberley; fourthly, after settlingNatal to return with such troops as could be spared and form withreinforcements from home a fresh army to carry out the original schemeof invading the Free State. 

The defect in this plan was that there were not enough troops to carryit out. As we had underestimated the offensive vigour which the enemywas able to develop before the army could reach South Africa, so now wealtogether miscalculated his extraordinary strength on the defensive. But it is impossible to see what else could have been done, and at anyrate no one appreciated the magnitude of the difficulties more correctlythan Sir Redvers Buller. He knew Northern Natal and understood theadvantages that the Boers enjoyed among its mountains and kopjes. 

On one occasion he even went so far as to describe the operation he hadproposed as a 'forlorn hope, ' so dark and gloomy was the situation inSouth Africa during the first fortnight in November. It was stated thatthe General was ordered by the War Office to go to Natal, and went thereagainst his own will and judgment. This, however, was not true; and whenI asked him he replied: 'It was the most difficult business of all. Iknew what it meant, and that it was doubtful whether we should getthrough to Ladysmith. I had not the nerve to order a subordinate to doit. I was the big man. I had to go myself. '

What followed, with the exception of the battle of Colenso, our firstexperience of the Boer behind entrenchments, has been to some extentdescribed in these letters. Viewed in the light of after knowledge itdoes not appear that the holding of Ladysmith was an unfortunate act. 

The flower of the Boer army was occupied and exhausted in futile effortsto take the town and stave off the relieving forces. Four preciousmonths were wasted by the enemy in a vain enterprise. Fierce and bloodyfighting raged for several weeks with heavy loss to both sides, butwithout shame to either. In the end the British were completelyvictorious. Not only did their garrison endure famine, disease, andbombardment with constancy and composure and repel all assaults, but thesoldiers of the relief column sustained undismayed repeateddisappointments and reverses, and finally triumphed because throughthick and thin they were loyal to their commander and more stubborn eventhan the stubborn Dutch. 

In spite of, perhaps because of, some mistakes and many misfortunes thedefence and relief of Ladysmith will not make a bad page in Britishhistory. Indeed it seems to me very likely that in future times ourcountrymen will think that we were most fortunate to find after aprolonged peace leaders of quality and courage, who were moreoverhonourable gentlemen, to carry our military affairs through all kinds ofdifficulties to a prosperous issue; and whatever may be said of thegenerals it is certain that all will praise the enduring courage of theregimental officer and the private soldier.