SOUTH AFRICAN MEMORIES

SOCIAL, WARLIKE & SPORTING

FROM DIARIES WRITTEN AT THE TIME

BY

LADY SARAH WILSON

 LONDON EDWARD ARNOLD 1909

DEDICATION

 TO THE MEMORY OF MY BELOVED SISTER, GEORGIANA, COUNTESS HOWE, TO WHOSE EFFORTS AND UNCEASING LABOURS IN CONNECTION WITH THE YEOMANRY HOSPITALS, DURING THE WAR IN SOUTH AFRICA, THE EARLY BREAKDOWN OF HER HEALTH, AND SUBSEQUENT DEATH, WERE UNDOUBTEDLY DUE, THIS BOOK, CONTAINING RECOLLECTIONS OF THAT GREAT AND MYSTERIOUS LAND, THE GRAVE OF SO MANY BRAVE ENGLISHMEN, IS AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED

PREFACE

Everything of interest that has happened to me in life chances to havebeen in connection with South Africa. In that land, where some of myhappiest days have been spent, I have also experienced long periods ofintense excitement and anxiety; there I have made acquaintance with allthe charm of the veldt, in the vast country north of the great ZambesiRiver, hearing the roar of the lions at night, and following their"spoor" by day; and last, but not least, I have there made some verygood friends. Only a few years ago, when peacefully spending a few weeksat Assouan in Egypt, I was nearly drowned by the capsizing of a boat inthe Nile; again the spirit of the vast continent (on this occasion faraway to the north) seemed to watch over me. For all these reasons Iventure to claim the indulgence of the public and the kindness of myfriends, for these recollections of days in South Africa, in which shadeand sunshine have been strangely mingled, and which to me have neverbeen dull. To sum up, I have always found that life is what you make it, and have often proved the truth of the saying, "Adventures to theadventurous. "

I am indebted to Colonel Vyvyan for statistics respecting the MafekingRelief Fund; and to Miss A. Fielding, secretary to the late CountessHowe, for a résumé of the work of the Yeomanry Hospital during the BoerWar. 

 S. I. W. 

 THE STUD HOUSE, HAMPTON COURT. _September, 1909_. 

CONTENTS

 I. FIRST VOYAGE TO SOUTH AFRICA--CAPE TOWN

 II. KIMBERLEY AND THE JAMESON RAID

 III. THE IMMEDIATE RESULTS OF THE RAID--THE RAIDERS THEMSELVES

 IV. JOHANNESBURG AND PRETORIA IN 1896

 V. THREE YEARS AFTER--LORD MILNER AT CAPE TOWN BEFORE THE WAR--MR. CECIL RHODES AT GROOT SCHUURR--OTHER INTERESTING PERSONAGES

 VI. PREPARATIONS FOR WAR--MAFEKING, AND DEPARTURE THEREFROM

 VII. IN A REBELLIOUS COLONY--VISIT TO VRYBURG DURING THE BOER OCCUPATION--I PASS OFF AS A DUTCHMAN'S SISTER

 VIII. BETRAYED BY A PIGEON--THE BOERS COME AT LAST

 IX. HOW I WAS MADE A PRISONER--IN A BOER LAAGER

 X. EXCHANGED FOR A HORSE-THIEF--BACK TO MAFEKING AFTER TWO MONTHS' WANDERINGS

 XI. LIFE IN A BESIEGED TOWN

 XII. LIFE IN A BESIEGED TOWN _(continued)_

 XIII. ELOFF'S DETERMINED ATTACK ON MAFEKING, AND THE RELIEF OF THE TOWN

 XIV. ACROSS THE TRANSVAAL TO PRETORIA DURING THE WAR

 XV. PRETORIA AND JOHANNESBURG UNDER LORD ROBERTS AND MILITARY LAW

 XVI. MY RETURN TO CIVILIZATION ONCE MORE--THE MAFEKING FUND--LETTERS FROM THE KING AND QUEEN

 XVII. THE WORK OF LADY GEORGIANA CURZON, LADY CHESHAM, AND THE YEOMANRY HOSPITAL, DURING THE WAR--THIRD VOYAGE TO THE CAPE, 1902

 XVIII. FOURTH VOYAGE TO THE CAPE--THE VICTORIA FALLS AND SIX WEEKS NORTH OF THE ZAMBESI

 APPENDIX I. MAFEKING RELIEF FUND

 APPENDIX II. IMPERIAL YEOMANRY HOSPITALS, 1900-1902

CHAPTER I

 FIRST VOYAGE TO SOUTH AFRICA--CAPE TOWN. 

 "Oh that mine adversary had written a book!"--JOB xxxi. 35. 

The above words, written by one of the greatest philosophers of oldentime, have often impressed me, and I have frequently quoted them whenasked why I did not write an account of the interesting travels andadventures I have had in my life. It has therefore required a great dealof courage to take up my pen and record a few recollections of SouthAfrica. I felt that, were they ever to be written at all, it must bebefore the rapidly passing years diminish the interest in that land, which in the past has been the object of such engrossing attention; andthat at the present time, when the impending Federation of South Africahas at length crowned the hopes of those patriots who have labouredpatiently and hopefully to bring about this great result, it might beappropriate to recall those days when Englishmen, who had made SouthAfrica their home, had much to contend with, even before the fiercestruggle to keep "the flag flying" in the years of 1899-1902. 

During that period, which commenced after the disaster at Majuba Hill, "equal rights" were a golden dream which only the most optimistic everhoped to see realized. From then onwards, as old colonists have so oftentold me, the Boers brought up the younger generation in the belief thatthe "Roinek"[1] was a coward, and in consequence their arrogance in thecountry districts became wellnigh intolerable, while at the Cape theBond party grew so strong it bid fair to elbow out the Englishaltogether. Now, while the country is still young, the fair prospectopens out of Briton and Boer living in amity and peace together, andmutually supplying, in the government of their vast inheritance, suchelements as are wanting in the character of each. 

My first visit to South Africa was a short one, and took place at theend of 1895. During the foregoing summer everyone's attention had beendirected to the Transvaal, and more especially towards the Rand, byreason of the unprecedented and, as it turned out, totally unwarrantedrise in the gold-mining shares of that district; in this boom, peopleboth at home and in Johannesburg madly gambled, and large fortunes werequickly made by those who had foresight enough not to hold on too long. For already the political horizon was darkening, and the wrongs of the"Uitlanders, " real and apparent as they were, became a parrot-cry, whichwaxed and waned, but never died away, till the ultimatum of PresidentKruger, in October, 1899, brought matters to a climax. 

We sailed from Southampton in December, 1895, in the _Tantallon Castle_, then one of the most modern and up-to-date of the Castle liners. Theship was crowded to its utmost capacity, and among the passengers, as Iafterwards learned, were many deeply concerned in the plotting which wasknown to be going on at Johannesburg, either to extort concessions fromPresident Kruger, or, failing this, to remove him altogether. I knewvery little about all this then, but before I had been many days onboard it was not difficult to discover that much mystery filled the air, and I was greatly excited at arriving in South Africa in such stirringtimes. There is no such place for getting to know people well as on asea-voyage of eighteen days. Somehow the sea inspires confidence, andone knows that information imparted cannot, anyway, be posted off by thesame day's mail. So those who were helping to pull the strings of thisill-fated rebellion talked pretty freely of their hopes and fears duringthe long, dark tropical evenings. 

I became familiar with their grievances--their unfair taxation; noeducation for their children except in Dutch; no representation inParliament--and this in a population in which, at that time, theEnglish and Afrikanders at Johannesburg and in the surrounding districtsoutnumbered the Dutch in the proportion of about 6 to 1. They laidstress on the fact that neither the Boers nor their children were, ordesired to become, miners, and, further, that for the enormous sumsspent on developing and working the mines no proper security existed. Imust admit it was the fiery-headed followers who talked theloudest--those who had nothing to lose and much to gain. The financiers, while directing and encouraging their zeal, seemed almost with the samehand to wish to put on the brake and damp their martial ardour. In anycase, all were so eloquent that by the time our voyage was ended I feltas great a rebel against "Oom Paul" and his Government as any one ofthem. 

Before leaving the _Tantallon Castle_, however, I must pass in reviewsome of those whose home it had been with ourselves for the best part ofthree weeks. First I remember the late Mr. Alfred Beit, interesting asthe man who had made the most colossal fortune of all the South Africanmagnates, and who was then already said to be the most generous ofphilanthropists and the kindest of friends; this reputation he fullysustained in the subsequent years of his life and in the generousdisposition of his vast wealth. I have often been told that Mr. CecilRhodes owed the inspiration of some of his colossal ideas to his friendMr. Beit, and when it came to financing the same, the latter was alwaysready to assist in carrying out projects to extend and consolidate theEmpire. In these latter years, and since his comparatively early death, I have heard those who still bear the brunt of the battle lament hisloss, and remark, when a railway was to be built or a new part of thecountry opened up, how much more expeditiously it would be done were Mr. Beit still alive. 

Other names that occur to me are Mr. Abe Bailey, well known in racingcircles to-day, and then reputed a millionaire, the foundation of whosefortune consisted in a ten-pound note borrowed from a friend. Mr. WoolsSampson, [2] who subsequently so greatly distinguished himself atLadysmith, where he was dangerously wounded, had an individuality allhis own; he had seen every side of life as a soldier of fortune, attached to different regiments, during all the fighting in South Africaof the preceding years. He was then a mining expert, associated withMr. Bailey in Lydenburg, but his heart evidently lay in fighting and inpursuing the different kinds of wild animals that make their home on theAfrican veldt. Dr. Rutherford Harris, then the Secretary of theChartered Company; Mr. Henry Milner, an old friend; Mr. Geoffrey Glynand Mr. F. Guest, are others whom I specially remember; besides manymore, some of whom have joined the vast majority, and others whom I havealtogether lost sight of, but who helped to make the voyage a verypleasant one. 

We landed at Cape Town shortly before Christmas Day. As I have sincelearnt by the experience of many voyages, it is nearly always at dawnthat a liner is brought alongside the quay at the conclusion of a longvoyage; in consequence, sleep is almost out of the question the lastnight at sea, owing to the noisy manipulations of the mail-bags andluggage. However, one is always so glad to get on shore that it is ofvery little import, and on this occasion we were all anxious to gleanthe latest news after being cut off from the world for so many days. Thepapers contained gloomy accounts of the markets. "King Slump" still heldhis sway, and things abroad looked very unsettled; so most of ourfriends appeared, when we met later, with very long faces. Afterbreakfast, leaving our luggage to the tender mercies of some officiousagent, who professed to see it "through the Customs, " we took a hansomand drove to the Grand Hotel, _en route_ to the hotel, in the suburb ofNewlands, where we had taken rooms. My first impressions of Cape Towncertainly were not prepossessing, and well I remember them, even afterall these years. The dust was blowing in clouds, stirred up by the"south-easter" one hears so much about--an icy blast which appears tocome straight from the South Pole, and which often makes its appearancein the height of summer, which season it then was. The hansom, of theoldest-fashioned type, shook and jolted beyond belief, and threatenedevery moment to fall to pieces. The streets from the docks to the townwere unfinished, untidy, and vilely paved, and I remember comparing themvery unfavourably with Melbourne or Sydney. However, I soon modified mysomewhat hasty judgment. We had seen the town's worst aspects, and laterI noticed some attractive-looking shops; the imposing Houses ofParliament, in their enclosed grounds, standing out sharply definedagainst the hazy background of Table Mountain; and the Standard Bank andRailway-station, which would hold their own in any city. At the sametime, as a place of residence in the summer months, I can wellunderstand Cape Town being wellnigh deserted. Those who can boast ofeven the most moderate means have their residences in the attractivesuburbs of Rondebosch, Newlands, or Wynberg, and innumerable are thepretty little villas and gardens one sees in these vicinities. There thecountry is beautifully wooded, thick arching avenues of oak extendingfor miles, interspersed with tracts of Scotch firs and pines, the latterexhaling a delicious perfume under the sun's powerful rays. Everywheregreen foliage and abundant vegetation, which, combined with the settingof the bluest sky that can be imagined, make the drives round Cape Townsome of the most beautiful in the world. At Newlands, the Governor'ssummer residence, a pretty but unpretentious abode, Sir Hercules andLady Robinson then dispensed generous hospitality, only regretting theirhouse was too small to accommodate visitors, besides their marrieddaughters. We stayed at the Vineyard Hotel in the immediateneighbourhood--a funny old-fashioned hostelry, standing in its owngrounds, and not in the least like an hotel as we understand the word. There whole families seemed to reside for months, and very comfortableit was, if somewhat primitive, appearing to keep itself far apart fromthe rush of modern improvements, and allowing the world to go by itunheeded. Only half a mile away, at Rondebosch, was situated then, asnow, on the lower slopes of Table Mountain, the princely domain of thelate Mr. Cecil Rhodes. At the moment of which I write the house itselfwas only approaching completion, and I must now record a fewparticulars of our introduction to this great Englishman and hisworld-famed home. We drove to Groot Schuurr, or "Great Barn, " oneafternoon with Mr. Beit. The house is approached by a long avenue ofenormously high Scotch firs, which almost meet aloft, and remind one ofthe nave of some mighty cathedral, such is the subdued effect producedby the sunlight even on the brightest summer day. A slight rise in theroad, a serpentine sweep, and the house itself comes into view, white, low, and rambling, with many gables and a thatched roof. The right wingwas then hidden by scaffolding, and workmen were also busy putting in anew front-door, of which more anon; for a tall, burly gentleman in ahomely costume of flannels and a slouch hat emerged from the unfinishedroom, where he would seem to have been directing the workmen, and wewere introduced to Cecil John Rhodes, the Prime Minister of Cape Colony. 

I looked at the man, of whom I had heard so much, with a great deal ofcuriosity. Shy and diffident with strangers, his manner even somewhatabrupt, one could not fail to be impressed with the expression of power, resolution, and kindness, on the rugged countenance, and with the keen, piercing glance of the blue eyes, which seemed to read one through in aninstant. He greeted us, as he did every newcomer, most warmly, andunder his guidance we passed into the completed portion of the house, the rooms of which were not only most comfortable, but also perfect inevery detail as regards the model he wished to copy--viz. , a Dutch houseof 200 years ago, even down to the massive door aforementioned, which hehad just purchased for £200 from a colonial family mansion, and whichseemed to afford him immense pleasure. As a first fleeting memory of theinterior of Groot Schuurr, I call to mind Dutch armoires, allincontestably old and of lovely designs, Dutch chests, inlaidhigh-backed chairs, costly Oriental rugs, and everywhere teakpanelling--the whole producing a vision of perfect taste and old-worldrepose. It was then Mr. Rhodes's intention to have no electric light, oreven lamps, and burn nothing but tallow candles, so as to keep up theillusion of antiquity; but whether he would have adhered to thisdetermination it is impossible to say, as the house we saw was burnt tothe ground later on, and is now rebuilt on exactly the same lines, butwith electric light, every modern comfort, and lovely old red tiles toreplace the quaint thatched roof. 

Passing through the rooms, we came to the wide verandah, or stoep, onthe other or eastern side. This ran the whole length of the edifice, andwas used as a delightful lounge, being provided with luxurious setteesand armchairs. From here Mr. Rhodes pointed out the view he loved sowell, and which comes vividly to my mind to-day. In front three terracesrise immediately beyond the gravel courtyard, which is enclosed on threesides by the stoep. These, bright with flowers, lead to a great grassplateau, on which some more splendid specimens of Scotch firs rear theirlofty heads; while behind, covered with trees and vegetation, itsbrilliant green veiled by misty heat, Table Mountain forms a gloriousbackground, in striking contrast to the cobalt of the heavens. To theright of the terraces is a glade, entirely covered with vivid bluehydrangeas in full bloom, giving the appearance of a tract of azureground. Lower down the hillside, in little valleys, amidst oak and otherEnglish forest trees, a carpet is formed of cannas of many hues, interspersed with masses of gleaming white arum lilies, which grow herewild in very great profusion. 

Our time was too short on this occasion to see any portion of Mr. Rhodes's estate or the animals--antelope of many kinds, wildebeestes, elands, and zebras--which roamed through his woods. We lunched with himtwo days later on Christmas Eve, and then the weather was so hot that weonly lazily enjoyed the shade and breezes on the stoep. Well do Iremember on that occasion how preoccupied was our host, and howincessantly the talk turned to Johannesburg and the raging discontentthere. In truth, Mr. Rhodes's position was then a very difficult one: hewas Prime Minister of Cape Colony, and therefore officially neutral; butin his heart he remained the keen champion of the oppressed Uitlanders, having nominated his brother, Frank Rhodes, to be one of the leaders ofthe Reform Committee at Johannesburg. No wonder he was graver than washis wont, with many complications overshadowing him, as one afterwardsso fully realized. His kindness as a host, however, suffered nodiminution, and I remember how warmly he pressed us to stay with himwhen we returned from the north, though he did add, "My plans are alittle unsettled. " This suggested visit, however, was never paid; Mr. Rhodes a few weeks afterwards was starting for England, to, as he termedit, "face the music. " I shall have occasion to describe him in his home, and the life at Groot Schuurr, more fully later on, when I passed manyhappy and never-to-be-forgotten weeks beneath his hospitable roof. Asyears went on, his kindness to both friends and political foes grewalmost proverbial, but even in 1895 Groot Schuurr, barely finished, wasalready known to be one of the pleasantest places near Cape Town--ameeting-place for all the men of the colony either on their way to andfrom England, or on the occasion of their flying visits to the capital. 

FOOTNOTES:

[1] Red neck, or Englishman. 

[2] Now Sir A. Wools Sampson, K. C. B. 

CHAPTER II

 KIMBERLEY AND THE JAMESON RAID

 "Ex Africa semper aliquid novi. "

In the last week of the old year we started on our journey to Kimberley, then a matter of thirty-six hours. The whole of one day we dawdled overthe Great Karroo in pelting rain and mist, which reminded one ofScotland. This sandy desert was at that season covered with brown scrub, for it was yet too early for the rains to have made it green, and theonly signs of life were a few ostriches, wild white goats, and, veryrarely, a waggon piled with wood, drawn along the sandy road by ten ortwelve donkeys. As to vegetation, there were huge clumps ofmimosa-bushes, just shedding their yellow blossoms, through which thebranches showed up with their long white thorns, giving them a weird andwithered appearance. It must indeed have required great courage onbehalf of the old Voor-trekker Boers, when they and their families leftCape Colony, at the time of the Great Trek, in long lines ofwhite-tented waggons, to have penetrated through that dreary-waste insearch of the promised land, of green veldt and running streams, whichthey had heard of, as lying away to the north, and eventually found inthe Transvaal. I have been told that President Kruger was on thishistorical trek, a Voor-looper, or little boy who guides the leadingoxen. 

Round Kimberley the country presented a very different appearance, andhere we saw the real veldt covered with short grass, just beginning toget burnt up by the summer's heat. Our host, Mr. J. B. Currey, a namewell known in Diamond-Field circles, met us at the station. This is agood old South African custom, and always seems to me to be the acme ofwelcoming hospitality, and the climax to the kindness of inviting peopleto stay, merely on the recommendation of friends--quite a commonoccurrence in the colonies, and one which, I think, is neversufficiently appreciated, the entertainers themselves thinking it sonatural a proceeding. 

Kimberley itself and the diamond industry have both been so often and sowell described that I shall beware of saying much of either, and I willonly note a few things I remarked about this town, once humming withspeculation, business, and movement, but now the essence of a sleepyrespectability and visible prosperity. For the uninitiated it is betterto state that the cause of this change was the gradual amalgamation ofthe diamond-mines and conflicting interests, which was absolutelynecessary to limit the output of diamonds. As a result the stranger soonperceives that the whole community revolves on one axis, and is centred, so to speak, in one authority. "De Beers" is the moving spirit, thegenerous employer, and the universal benefactor. At that time there were7, 000 men employed in the mines, white and black, the skilled mechanicsreceiving as much as £6 a week. Evidence of the generosity of thiscompany was seen in the model village built for the white workmen; inthe orchard containing 7, 000 fruit-trees, then one of Mr. Rhodes'sfavourite hobbies; and in the stud-farm for improving the breed ofhorses in South Africa. If I asked the profession of any of the smartyoung men who frequented the house where we were staying, for games ofcroquet, it amused me always to receive the same answer, "He issomething in De Beers. " The town itself boasts of many commodious publicbuildings, a great number of churches of all denominations, an excellentand well-known club; but whatever the edifice, the roofing is alwayscorrugated iron, imported, I was told, from Wolverhampton. This roofing, indeed, prevails over the whole of new South Africa; and although itappears a very unsuitable protection from the burning rays of theAfrican sun, no doubt its comparative cheapness and the quickness of itserection are the reasons why this style was introduced, and has beenadhered to. By dint of superhuman efforts, in spite of locust-plagues, drought, and heavy thunderstorms, the inhabitants have contrived tosurround their little one-storied villas with gardens bright withflowers, many creepers of vivid hues covering all the trellis-work ofthe verandahs. 

The interest of Kimberley, however, soon paled and waned as theall-engrossing events of the Uitlander rebellion in Johannesburg rapidlysucceeded each other. One sultry evening our host brought us news oftangible trouble on the Rand: some ladies who were about to leave forthat locality had received wires to defer their departure. Instantly, Irecollect, my thoughts flew back to the _Tantallon Castle_ and the darkwords we had heard whispered, so it was not as much of a surprise to meas to the residents at Kimberley; to them it came as a perfectbombshell, so well had the secret been kept. The next day the text ofthe Manifesto, issued by Mr. Leonard, a lawyer, in the name of theUitlanders, to protest against their grievances, appeared in all themorning papers, and its eloquent language aroused the greatestenthusiasm in the town. Thus was the gauntlet thrown down with avengeance, and an ominous chord was struck by the statement, also in thepapers, that Mr. Leonard had immediately left for Cape Town, "lest heshould be arrested. " It must be remembered that any barrister, Englishor Afrikander, holding an official position in the Transvaal, had atthat time to take the oath of allegiance to the Boer Government beforebeing free to practise his calling. The explanation of the exceedinglyacute feeling at Kimberley in those anxious days lay in the fact thatnearly everyone had relations or friends in the Golden City. Our hoststhemselves had two sons pursuing their professions there, and, ofcourse, in the event of trouble with England, these young men would havebeen commandeered to fight for the Boer Government they served. Onepossibility, however, I noticed, was never entertained--viz. , that, iffighting occurred, the English community might get the worst of it. Sucha contingency was literally laughed to scorn. "The Boers were unpreparedand lazy; they took weeks to mobilize; they had given up shooting game, hence their marksmen had deteriorated; and 200 men ought to be able totake possession of Johannesburg and Kruger into the bargain. " This waswhat one heard on all sides, and in view of more recent events it israther significant; but I remember then the thought flashed across mymind that these possible foes were the sons of the men who hadannihilated us at Majuba and Laing's Nek, and I wondered whether anotherblack page were going to be added to the country's history. 

The next day, December 29, Kruger was reported in the papers to belistening to reason; but this hopeful news was short-lived, for onMonday, the 30th--as usual, a fiercely hot day--we received theastounding intelligence that Dr. Jameson, administrator of Mashonalandand Matabeleland, had entered the Transvaal at the head of the CharteredCompany's Police, 600 strong, with several Maxim and Gardner guns. Noupheaval of Nature could have created greater amazement, combined with agood deal of admiration and some dismay, than this sensational news. Thedismay, indeed, increased as the facts were more fully examined. Nearlyall the officers of the corps held Imperial commissions, and one heardperfect strangers asking each other how these officers could justifytheir action of entering a friendly territory, armed to the teeth; whilethe fact of Dr. Jameson himself being at their head heightened theintense interest. I did not know that gentleman then, but I must say heoccupied in the hearts of the people at Kimberley, and, indeed, of thewhole country, quite a unique position. 

It was in the diamond-fields he had worked as a young doctor, usurpinggradually almost the entire medical practice by his great skill as wellas by his charm of manner. Then, as Mr. Rhodes's nominee, he haddramatically abandoned medicine and surgery, and had gone to the greatunknown Northern Territory almost at a moment's notice. He had obtainedconcessions from the black tyrant, Lobengula, when all other emissarieshad failed; backwards and forwards many times across the vast stretch ofcountry between Bulawayo and Kimberley he had carried on negotiationswhich had finally culminated, five years previously, in his leading acolumn of 500 hardy pioneers to the promising country of Mashonaland, which up to that time had lain in darkness under the cruel rule of thedusky monarch. During three strenuous years Dr. Jameson, with nomilitary or legal education, had laboured to establish the nucleus of acivilized government in that remote country; and during the first partof that period the nearest point of civilization, from whence they couldderive their supplies, was Kimberley, a thousand miles away, across apractically trackless country. Added to this difficulty, theadministrator found himself confronted with the wants and rights of thedifferent mining communities into which the pioneers had gradually splitthemselves up, and which were being daily augmented by the arrival of"wasters" and others, who had begun to filter in as the country waswritten about, and its great mining and agricultural possibilitiesenlarged upon. Finally, goaded thereto and justified therein byLobengula's continued cruelties, his raids on the defenceless Mashonas, and his threats to the English, Dr. Jameson had led another expeditionagainst the King himself in his stronghold of Bulawayo. On that occasionsharp fighting ensued, but he at length brought peace, and the dawningof a new era to a vast native population in the country, which, withMashonaland, was to be known as Rhodesia. In fact, up to then his luckhad been almost supernatural and his achievements simply colossal. Addedto all this was his capacity for attaching people to himself, and hisabsolutely fearless disposition; so it is easy to understand thatKimberley hardly dared breathe during the next momentous days, when thefate of "the Doctor, " as he was universally called, and of his men, whowere nearly all locally known, was in suspense. 

During many an evening of that eventful week we used to sit out afterdinner under the rays of a glorious full moon, in the most perfectclimatic conditions, and hear heated discussions of the pros and cons ofthis occurrence, which savoured more of medieval times than of our own. The moon all the while looked down so calmly, and the Southern Crossstood out clear and bright. One wondered what they might not have toldus of scenes being enacted on the mysterious veldt, not 300 miles away. It was not till Saturday, January 4, that we knew what had happened, andany hopes we had entertained that the freebooters had either joinedforces with their friends in Johannesburg, or else had made good theirescape, were dashed to the ground as the fulness of the catastrophebecame known. For hours, however, the aghast Kimberleyites refused tobelieve that Dr. Jameson and his entire corps had been taken prisoners, having been hopelessly outnumbered and outmanoeuvred after severalhours' fighting at Krugersdorp; and, when doubt was no longer possible, loud and deep were the execrations levelled at the Johannesburgers, who, it was strenuously reiterated, had invited the Raiders to come to theirsuccour, and who, when the pinch came, never even left the town to go totheir assistance. If the real history of the Raid is ever written, whenthe march of time renders such a thing possible, it will be interestingreading; but, as matters stand now, it is better to say as little aspossible of such a deplorable fiasco, wherein the only points whichstood out clearly appeared to be that Englishmen were as brave, andperhaps also as foolhardy, as ever; that President Kruger, whilepretending to shut his eyes, had known exactly all that was goingforward; that the Boers had lost nothing of their old skill in shootingand ambushing, while the rapid rising and massing of their despisedforces was as remarkable in its way as Jameson's forced march. 

It was said at the time that the proclamation issued by the Governmentat home, repudiating the rebels, was the factor which prevented theJohannesburgers from joining forces with the Raiders when they arrivedat Krugersdorp, as no doubt had been arranged, and that this step of theHome Government had, curiously enough, not been foreseen by theorganizers of this deeply-laid plot. There is no doubt that there weretwo forces at work in Johannesburg, as, indeed, I had surmised duringour voyage out: the one comprising the financiers, which strove toattain its ends by manifesto and public meeting, with the hint ofsterner measures to follow; and the other impatient of delay, and thusimpelled to seek the help of those who undoubtedly became freebootersthe moment they crossed the Transvaal border. Certainly Dr. Jameson'sreported words seemed to echo with reproach and disappointment--thereproach of a man who has been deceived; but whatever his feelings wereat that moment of despair, when his lucky star seemed at length to havedeserted him with a vengeance, I happen to know he never bore anylasting grudge against his Johannesburg friends, and that he remained onterms of perfect friendship even with the five members of the ReformCommittee, with whom all the negotiations had gone forward. Theseincluded Colonel Frank Rhodes, [3] always one of his favouritecompanions. 

As an instance of how acute was the feeling suddenly roused respectingEnglishmen, I remember that Mr. Harry Lawson, who was staying in thesame house as ourselves, and had decided to leave for Johannesburg asspecial correspondent to his father's paper, the _Daily Telegraph_, wasactually obliged to travel under a foreign name; and even then, if mymemory serves me right, he did not succeed in reaching the Rand. In themeantime, as the daily papers received fuller details, harrowingaccounts came to hand of the exodus from Johannesburg of men, women, andchildren travelling twenty in a compartment meant for eight, whileothers, not so fortunate, had to put up with cattle-trucks. The Boerswere said to have shown themselves humane and magnanimous. Mr. Chamberlain, the papers wrote, was strengthening the hands of thePresident, to avert civil war, which must have been dangerously near;but the most important man of the moment in South Africa was grudginglyadmitted to be "Oom Paul. " His personal influence alone, it was stated, had restrained his wild bands of armed burghers, with which the land wassimply bristling, and he was then in close confabulation with HerMajesty's High Commissioner, Sir Hercules Robinson, whom he had summonedto Pretoria to deal with such refractory Englishmen. The journals alsotook advantage of the occasion to bid Kruger remember this was theopportunity to show himself forgiving, and to strengthen his corruptGovernment, thereby earning the gratitude of those Afrikanders, forwhom, indeed, he was not expected to have any affection, but to whom hewas indebted for the present flourishing financial state of hisrepublic, which, it was called to mind, was next door to bankrupt whenEngland declared its independence in 1884. If such articles weretranslated and read out to that wily old President, as he sipped hiscoffee on his stoep, with his bland and inscrutable smile, it must haveadded zest to his evening pipe. I read in Mr. Seymour Fort's "Life ofDr. Jameson" that the Raid cost the Chartered Company £75, 000 worth ofmaterial, most of which passed into the hands of the Boer Government, while the confiscated arms at Johannesburg amounted to several thousandrifles and a great deal of ammunition. Respecting the guns taken fromJameson's force, curiously enough, we surmised during the siege ofMafeking, four years later, that some of these were being used againstus. Their shells fired into the town, many of which did not explode, andof which I possess a specimen, were the old seven-pound studded M. L. Type, with the Woolwich mark on them. 

FOOTNOTES:

[3] Died at Groot Schuurr in September, 1905. 

CHAPTER III

 THE IMMEDIATE RESULTS OF THE RAID--THE RAIDERS THEMSELVES

 "The fly sat on the axle-tree of the chariot-wheel, and said, 'What a dust do I raise!'"--Æsop. 

Oom Paul was in the proud position of this fly in the weeks immediatelyfollowing the Raid, as well as during many years to come. When wereturned to Cape Town early in January, 1896, we found everything in aturmoil. Mr. Rhodes had resigned the premiership and had left forKimberley, where he had met with a most enthusiastic reception, and Mr. Beit had been left in possession at Groot Schuurr. The latter gentlemanappeared quite crushed at the turn events had taken--not so much onaccount of his own business affairs, which must have been in a criticalstate, as in regard to the fate of Mr. Lionel Philips, his partner; thisgentleman, as well as the other four members of the Reform Committee, [4]and a few lesser lights besides, had all been arrested during the pastweek at Johannesburg, and charged with high treason. Even at Cape Town, Captain Bettelheim and Mr. S. Joel, who had left the Transvaal, had oneforenoon been requested to accompany some mysterious gentleman, and, very much to their surprise, had found themselves lodged in HerMajesty's gaol before lunch. This occurrence came as a bombshell to theCape Town community, it having been assumed that there was noextradition for political offences. Johannesburg was known to bedisarming almost unconditionally "in consequence of a personal appealfrom the Governor, " and another telegram informed the world that the menin so doing were broken-hearted, but were making the sacrifice in orderto save Dr. Jameson's life. Some unkind friends remarked that theirgrief must have been tempered with relief, in ridding themselves of theweapons that they had talked so much about, and yet did not use when thetime for action came. However, the ways of Providence are wonderful, andthis inglorious finale was probably the means of averting a terriblecivil war. Sir Hercules Robinson was still at Pretoria, conferring withthe President, who, it was opined, was playing with him, as nothingeither regarding the fate of Dr. Jameson and his officers, or of thepolitical prisoners, had been settled. It was even rumoured that therewas a serious hitch in the negotiations, and that Lord Salisbury hadpresented an ultimatum to the effect that, unless the President ratifiedthe Convention of 1884, and ceased intriguing with Germany, war withEngland would ensue. This story was never confirmed, and I think thewish was father to the thought. I remember, during those eventful days, attending with Mrs. Harry Lawson a garden-party at Newlands, given byLady Robinson, who was quite a remarkable personality, and an old friendand admirer of the ex-Prime Minister's. The gardens showed to theirgreatest advantage in the brilliant sunshine, and an excellent bandplayed charming tunes under the trees; but everyone was sopreoccupied--and no one more than the hostess--that it was rather adepressing entertainment. 

At last events began to shape themselves. We learnt that the Governorhad left Pretoria on January 15, and that the military prisoners, including most of the troopers, were to be sent home to Englandimmediately, for the leaders to stand their trial. The same morning Iheard privately that Mr. Rhodes meant to leave by that very evening'smail-steamer for England, to face the inquiry which would certainlyensue, and, if possible, to save the Charter of that Company with whichhe had so indissolubly connected himself, and which was, so to speak, his favourite child. I remember everyone thought then that this Charterwould surely be confiscated, on account of the illegal proceedings ofits forces. 

The fact of Mr. Rhodes's departure was kept a profound secret, as hewished to avoid any demonstration. The mail-steamer was the even thenantiquated _Moor_ of the Union Line, and she was lying a quarter of amile away from the docks, awaiting her mail-bags and her importantpassengers. Besides Mrs. Harry Lawson and ourselves, Mr. Rhodes, Mr. Beit, and Dr. Rutherford Harris, the two latter of whom were also goingto England, embarked quite unnoticed on a small launch, ostensibly tomake a tour of the harbour, which as a matter of fact we did, whilstwaiting for the belated mail. An object of interest was the chartered P. And O. Transport _Victoria_, which had only the day before arrived fromBombay, with the Lancashire Regiment, 1, 000 strong, on board, havingbeen suddenly stopped here on her way home, pessimists at once declaringthe reason to be possible trouble with Germany. A very noble appearanceshe presented that afternoon, with her lower decks and portholes simplyswarming with red-coats, who appeared to take a deep interest in ourmovements. At last we boarded the mail-steamer, and then I had thechance of a few words with the travellers, and of judging how pastevents had affected them. Mr. Beit looked ill and worried; Mr. Rhodes, on the other hand, seemed to be in robust health, and as calm as theproverbial cucumber. I had an interesting talk to him before we left theship; he said frankly that, for the first time in his life, during sixnights of the late crisis he had not been able to sleep, and that he hadbeen worried to death. 

"Now, " he added, "I have thought the whole matter out, I have decidedwhat is best to be done, so I am all right again, and I do not considerat forty-three that my career is ended. "

"I am quite sure it is not, Mr. Rhodes, " was my reply; "and, what ismore, I have a small bet with Mr. Lawson that in a year's time you willbe in office again, or, if not absolutely in office, as great a factorin South African politics as you have been up to now. "

He thought a minute, and then said:

"It will take ten years; better cancel your bet. "[5] was careful not toask him any questions which might be embarrassing for him to answer, buthe volunteered that the objects of his visit to England were, first, todo the best he could for his friends at Johannesburg, including hisbrother Frank, who were now political prisoners, practically at themercy of the Boers, unless the Imperial Government bestirred itself ontheir behalf; and, secondly, to save his Charter, if by any means itcould be saved. This doubt seemed to haunt him. "My argument is, " Iremember he said, "they may take away the Charter or leave it, but thereis one fact that no man can alter--viz. , that a vast and valuableterritory has been opened up by that Company in about half the time, andat about a quarter the cost, which the Imperial Government would haverequired for a like task; so that whether, in consequence of one badblunder, and partly in order to snub me, Cecil Rhodes, the Company is tocease, or whether it is allowed to go on with its work, its achievementsand their results must and will speak for themselves. " With reference tothe political prisoners, I recollect he repeated more than once:

"You see, I stand in so much stronger a position than they do, in that Iam not encumbered with wife and children; so I am resolved to strainevery nerve on their behalf. " About six o'clock the last bell rang, and, cutting short our conversation, I hurriedly wished him good-bye and goodluck, and from the deck of our little steamer we watched the big shippass out into the night. 

We had now been a month in South Africa, and had seen very little of thecountry, and it appeared that we had chosen a very unfavourable momentfor our visit. We were determined, however, not to return home withoutseeing the Transvaal, peaceful or the reverse. The question was, how toget there. By train one had to allow three days and four nights, and, since the rebellion, to put up with insults into the bargain at thefrontier, where luggage and even wearing apparel were subjected to aminute search, involving sometimes a delay of five hours. Our projecteddeparture by sea via Natal was postponed indefinitely, by thenon-arrival of the incoming mail-steamer from England, the old _RoslinCastle_, which was living up to her reputation of breaking down, bybeing days overdue, so that it was impossible to say when she would beable to leave for Durban. Under these circumstances Sir HerculesRobinson proved a friend in need; and, having admonished us to secrecy, he told us that the P. And O. _Victoria_, the troopship we had noticedin the harbour, was under orders to leave at once for Durban to pick upDr. Jameson and the other Raiders at that port; and convey them toEngland; therefore, as we only wanted to go as far as Durban, he wouldmanage, by permission of the Admiral at Cape Town, to get us passages onboard this ship. Of course we were delighted, and early next morning weembarked. It was the first time I had ever been on a troopship, andevery moment was of interest. As spick and span as a man-of-war, withher wide, roomy decks, it was difficult to imagine there were 2, 000souls on board the _Victoria_, and only in the morning, when theregiment paraded, appearing like ants from below, and stretching inunbroken lines all down both sides of the ship, did one realize howlarge was the floating population, and how strict must be the disciplinenecessary to keep so many men healthy, contented, and efficient. Therewere a few other civilians going home on leave, but we were the onlyso-called "indulgence passengers. " The time passed all too quickly, themonotonous hours of all shipboard life, between the six-thirty dinnerand bedtime, being whiled away by listening to an excellent militaryband. 

We were told to be dressed and ready to disembark by 6 a. M. On themorning we were due at Durban, as the Admiral had given stringentinstructions not to delay there any longer than was necessary. I wastherefore horrified, on awaking at five o'clock, to find the engines hadalready stopped, and, on looking out of the porthole, to see a largetender approaching from the shore, apparently full of people. Iscrambled into my clothes, but long before I was dressed the tug wasalongside, or as nearly alongside as the heavy swell and consequent deeprolls of our ship would allow. Durban boasts of no harbour for largeships. These have to lie outside the bar, and a smooth sea being theexception on this part of the coast, disembarking is in consequencealmost always effected in a sort of basket cage, worked by a crane, andholding three or four people. When I got on deck, the prisoners werestill on the tender, being mercilessly rolled about, and they mustindeed have been glad when, at six o'clock, the signal to disembark wasgiven. 

I shall never forget that striking and melancholy scene. The dull greymorning, of which the dawn had scarcely broken; the huge rollers of theleaden sea, which were lifting our mighty ship as if she had been but acockleshell; and the tiny steamer, at a safe distance, her deck crowdedwith sunburnt men, many of whose faces were familiar to us, and who werepicturesquely attired, for the most part, in the very same clothes theyhad worn on their ill-fated march--flannel shirts, khaki breeches, highboots, and the large felt hats of the Bechuanaland Border Police, whichthey were wearing probably for the last time. As soon as they came onboard we were able to have a few hasty words with those we knew, andtheir faces seem to pass in front of me as I write: Sir John Willoughbyand Captain C. Villiers, both in the Royal Horse Guards, apparentlynonchalant and without a care in the world; Colonel Harry White--alas!dead--and his brother Bobby, who were as fit as possible and as cheeryas ever, but inclined to be mutinous with their unwilling gaolers; MajorStracey, [6] Scots Guards, with his genial and courtly manners, apparently still dazed at finding himself a prisoner and amongst rebels;Mr. Cyril Foley, one of the few civilians, and Mr. Harold Grenfell, [7]1st Life Guards, like boys who expect a good scolding when they gethome; and last, but not least, Dr. Jameson, to whom we were introduced. "What will they do with us?" was the universal question, and on thispoint we could give them no information; but it can be imagined theywere enchanted to see some friendly faces after a fortnight'sincarceration in a Boer prison, during the first part of which time theydaily expected to be led out and shot. I remember asking Dr. Jamesonwhat I think must have been a very embarrassing question, although hedid not seem to resent it. It was whether an express messenger fromJohannesburg, telling him not to start, as the town was not unanimousand the movement not ripe, had reached him the day before he leftMafeking. He gave no direct answer, but remarked: "I received so manymessages from day to day, now telling me to come, then to delaystarting, that I thought it best to make up their minds for them, beforethe Boers had time to get together. "

We were soon hurried on shore, as Mr. Beresford, [8] the 7th Hussars, whohad brought the prisoners on board, had to return to the town to makesome necessary purchases for them, in the way of clothes, for theypossessed nothing but what they stood up in. 

We left Durban immediately by train for Pietermaritzburg, where we werethe guests of Sir Walter and Lady Hely Hutchinson, at Government House, a very small but picturesque residence where Lady Hely Hutchinsonreceived us most kindly in the absence of her husband, who was in theTransvaal, superintending the departure of the remaining prisoners. Herewe seemed to have left warlike conditions behind us, for the town wasagog with the excitement of a cricket-match, between Lord Hawke's elevenand a Natal fifteen. On the cricket-field we met again two of our_Tantallon Castle_ fellow-passengers, Mr. Guest and Mr. H. Milner, whohad come down from Johannesburg with the cricketers. We were interestedto compare notes and to hear Mr. Milner's adventures, which really madeus smile, though they could hardly have been a laughing matter to him atthe time. He told us that, after twice visiting Captain C. Coventry, whowas wounded in the Raid, at the Krugersdorp Hospital withoutmolestation, on the third occasion, when returning by train toJohannesburg, he was roughly pulled out of his carriage at ten o'clockat night, and told that, since he had no passport, he was to bearrested on the charge of being a spy. In vain did he tell them thatonly at the last station his passport had been demanded in suchperemptory terms that he had been forced to give it up. They eitherwould not or could not understand him. In consequence the poor mantasted the delights of a Boer gaol for a whole night, and, worstindignity of all, had for companions two criminals and a crowd of dirtyKaffirs. The following morning, he said, his best friend would not haveknown him, so swollen and distorted was his face from the visitations ofthe inseparable little companions of the Kaffir native. He was liberatedon bail next day, and finally set free, with a scanty apology ofmistaken identity. At any other time such an insult to an Englishmanwould have made some stir; as it was, everyone was so harassed that hewas hardly pitied. 

The Governor returned two days before our departure, and we had a gaytime, between entertainments for the cricketers and festivities given bythe 7th Hussars. Feeling in Durban, with regard to the Raiders, was thenrunning high, and for hours did a vast crowd wait at the station merelyin order to give the troopers of the Chartered Forces some heartycheers, albeit they passed at midnight in special trains withoutstopping. Very loyal, too, were these colonists, and no German wouldhave had a pleasant time of it there just then, with the Kaiser's famoustelegram to Kruger fresh in everyone's memory. 

From Pietermaritzburg to Johannesburg the railway journey was a veryinteresting one. North of Newcastle we saw a station bearing the name ofIngogo; later on the train wound round the base of Majuba Hill, and whenthat was felt behind it plunged into a long rocky tunnel which piercesthe grassy slope on which the tragedy of Laing's Nek was enacted--allnames, alas! too well known in the annals of our disasters. Afterleaving the Majuba district, we came to the Transvaal frontier, where wehad been told we might meet with scanty courtesy. However, we had nodisagreeable experiences, and then the train emerged on the endlessrolling green plains which extend right up to and beyond the miningdistrict of the Rand. 

Now and then one perceived a trek waggon and oxen with a Boer and hisfamily, either preceded or followed by a herd of cattle, winding theirslow way along the dusty red track they call road. At the stationswild-looking Kaffir women, half naked and anything but attractive inappearance, came and stared at the train and its passengers. It is inthis desolate country that Johannesburg, the Golden City, sprang up, asit were, like a fungus, almost in a night. Nine years previously theRand--since the theatre of so much excitement and disappointment--thesource of a great part of the wealth of London at the present day, wasas innocent of buildings and as peaceful in appearance as those lonelyplains over which we had travelled. As we approached Johannesburg, little white landmarks like milestones made their appearance, and these, we were told, were new claims pegged out. The thought suggested itselfthat this part of South Africa is in some respects a wicked country, with, it would almost seem, a blight resting on it: sickness, to bothman and beast, is always stalking round; drought is a constant scourgeto agriculture; the locust plagues ruin those crops and fruit thathailstones and scarcity of water have spared; and all the while men viewith and tread upon one another in their rush and eagerness after thegold which the land keeps hidden. Small wonder this district has provedsuch a whirlpool of evil influences, where everyone is always strivingfor himself, and where disillusions and bitter experiences have causedeach man to distrust his neighbour. 

FOOTNOTES:

[4] Colonel Frank Rhodes, Mr. G. Farrar, Mr. Hammond, and Mr. C. Leonard. 

[5] Mr. Rhodes died in the spring of 1902. 

[6] Now Colonel Stracey Clitheroe. 

[7] Now Colonel Grenfell, 3rd Dragoon Guards. 

[8] Now Major Beresford. 

CHAPTER IV

 JOHANNESBURG AND PRETORIA IN 1896

 "Little white mice of chance, Coats of wool and corduroy pants, Gold and wine, women and sin, I'll give to you, if you let me in To the glittering house of chance. " _American Dice Incantation_. 

At Johannesburg we were the guests of Mr. Abe Bailey at Clewer Lodge. Our host, however, was unfortunately absent, "detained" in the precinctsof the gaol at Pretoria, although allowed out on bail. In the same househe had entertained in 1891 my brother Randolph[9] and his friend CaptainG. Williams, Royal Horse Guards, on their way to Mashonaland. One of myfirst visitors was another fellow-traveller of theirs, Mr. H. C. Perkins, the celebrated American mining expert. This gentleman was a great friendof Randolph's, and he spoke most touchingly of his great attachment tothe latter, and of his grief at his death. For five years Mr. And Mrs. Perkins had lived in Johannesburg, where they both enjoyed universalrespect, and their approaching departure, to settle once more inAmerica, was deplored by all. Considered to be the highest mining expertof the day, Mr. Perkins had seen the rise of the Rand since its infancy, and he had been shrewd enough to keep out of the late agitation and itsdisturbances. Under his guidance we saw the sights of the towns: thefar-famed Rand Club; the Market Square, crammed, almost for the firsttime since the so-called "revolution, " with trek-waggons and their Boerdrivers; the much-talked-of "Gold-fields" offices, barred andbarricaded, which had been the headquarters of the Reform Committee; theStandard Bank, where the smuggled arms had been kept; and finally theExchange and the street enclosed by iron chains, where the stock marketswere principally carried on. We were also shown the interior of theStock Exchange itself, though we were warned that it was scarcely wortha visit at that time of depression. We heard the "call of the shares, "which operation only took twenty minutes, against nearly two hoursduring the time of the recent boom. Instead of the listless, bored-looking individuals below us, who only assumed a little excitementwhen the revolving, clock-like machine denoted any popular share, wewere told that a few months ago every available space had been crowdedby excited buyers and sellers--some without hats, others in theirshirt-sleeves, almost knocking one another over in their desire to dobusiness. Those must indeed have been palmy days, when the money solightly made was correspondingly lightly spent; when champagne replacedthe usual whisky-split at the Rand Club, and on all sides was to beheard the old and well-known formula, "Here's luck, " as the successfulspeculator toasted an old friend or a newcomer. 

However, to return to Johannesburg as we found it, after the 1895 boom. Even then it seemed to me that for the first time in South Africa I sawlife. Cape Town, with its pathetic dullness and palpable efforts to keepup a show of business; Kimberley, with its deadly respectability--bothpaled in interest beside their younger sister, so light-hearted, reckless, and enterprising. Before long, in spite of gloomy reflectionson the evils of gold-seeking, I fell under the fascination of what wasthen a wonderful town, especially wonderful from its youth. Theever-moving crowds which thronged the streets, every man of whichappeared to be full of important business and in a desperate hurry, reminded one of the City in London. Smart carriages with well-dressedladies drove rapidly past, the shops were cunningly arranged withtempting wares, and all this bustle and traffic was restored in littleover a week. A fortnight previously a revolution was impending and asiege was looming ahead. Business had been at a complete standstill, the shops and houses barred and barricaded, and many of the inhabitantswere taking a hurried departure; while bitterness, discord, and racialfeeling were rampant. Now, after a few days, that cosmopolitan andrapidly changing population appeared to have buried their differences, and the uninitiated would never have guessed the town had passed, andwas, indeed, still passing, through troublous times. Mr. Perkins, however, was pessimistic, and told us appearances were misleading. Herightly foresaw many lean years for those interested in the immediatefuture of the Rand, though even he, perhaps, hardly realized how leanthose would become. Since those days much water has flown under thebridge, and the trade of the town, not to speak of the mining industry, has gone from bad to worse. Recently Federation, the dream of many astatesman connected with South Africa, has opened a new vista ofpolitical peace and prosperity to its chastened citizens. Many of these, in affluent circumstances in 1896, have since gone under financially;but some of the original inhabitants still remain to show in the futurethat they have learned wisdom from their past troubles, brought onprincipally by their mad haste to get rich too quickly. 

During our stay at Johannesburg we made an expedition to Pretoria inorder to see our host and other friends, who were still on bail there, awaiting their trial, and also to visit the seat of the Boer Government. By these remarkable State railways the short journey of thirty-two milesoccupied three hours. We passed one very large Boer laager, or militarycamp, on the line, which looked imposing enough in the bright sunlight, with its shining array of white-tarpaulin-covered waggons; companies ofmounted burghers, armed to the teeth, and sitting their ragged butwell-bred ponies as if glued to the saddle, were to be seen galloping toand fro. Although the teeth of the enemy had been drawn for the present, the Boers were evidently determined to keep up a martial display. AsPretoria was approached the country became very pretty: low hills andmany trees, including lovely weeping-willows, appeared on the landscape, and away towards the horizon was situated many a snug little farm;running streams caught the rays of the sun, and really rich herbagesupplied the pasture for herds of fat cattle. The town itself did notprove specially interesting. An imposing space called Church Square waspointed out to us with great pride by the Dutch gentleman who kindly didcicerone. There we saw the little primitive "dopper" church where thePresident always worshipped, overshadowed and dwarfed by the magnificentHouses of Parliament, built since the Transvaal acquired riches, and bythe no less grand Government Offices. As we were standing before thelatter, after the fashion of tourists, our guide suddenly became veryexcited, and told us we were really in good luck, for the President wasjust about to leave his office on his return home for his midday meal. In a few minutes the old gentleman emerged, guarded by four armedburghers, and passed rapidly into his carriage. We took a good look atthis remarkable personage. Stout in figure, with a venerable whitebeard, in a somewhat worn frock-coat and a rusty old black silk hat, President Kruger did not look the stern dictator of his little kingdomwhich in truth he was. Our Dutch friend told us Oom Paul was in thehabit of commencing work at 5 a. M. , and that he transacted business, either at his house or in the Government Offices, with shortintermissions, until 5 p. M. Simply worshipped by his burghers, he was ona small scale, and in his ignorant fashion, a man of iron like Bismarck, notably in his strong will and in the way in which he imposed the sameon his countrymen. The extent of his personal influence could be gaugedwhen one considered that his mere orders had restrained hisundisciplined soldier-burghers, who, irritated by being called away fromtheir peaceful existences, maddened by the loss of some of their numberwho fell in the fighting, and elated by their easy victory, werethirsting to shoot down the leaders of the Raid, as they stood, in themarket-square at Krugersdorp. The state of the Boer Government at thattime added to the President's difficulties. He was hampered by thenarrowest--minded Volksraad (Parliament) imaginable, who resented toothand nail even the most necessary concessions to the Uitlanders; he wassurrounded by corrupt officials, most of whom were said to be implicatedin the late rebellion; he was the head of a community which was known tobe split up into several sections, owing to acute religious disputes;and yet he contrived, at seventy-one years of age, to outwit the 60, 000Uitlanders at Johannesburg, and to present his rotten republic as amodel of all that was excellent and high-minded to the world at large. At the same time he compelled his burghers to forget their owndifferences, as they hurled defiance at the common foe. It seems to be atruism that it requires a Boer to rule a Boer; and in some ways themantle of President Kruger would appear to have descended in our daysupon General Louis Botha. According to all accounts, his will is now lawto the ignorant back Veldt Boers, although his guiding principles savourmore of the big stick than of the spoon-feeding system. Undoubtedlyloyal to England, he bids fair in the future to help found a nation, based upon the union of British and Boer, inheriting their traditions, cultivating their ideals, and pursuing their common ends. 

But this Utopia seemed far away in 1896, and it was, alas! destined thatmany lives should be laid down, and much treasure expended, before itsadvent. For the moment lamentations were rife in Johannesburg, and atmany a dinner-party unprofitable discussions raged as to what would havehappened had Dr. Jameson entered the city. On this point no one couldagree. Some people said the town could have been starved out in a fewdays, and the water-supply cut off immediately; others asserted that theBoers were in reality overawed by Dr. Jameson's name and prestige, andwould have been glad to make terms. The practical spirits opined thatthe only thing which would have saved the inhabitants in any case wasthe tame ending which actually came about--namely, the HighCommissioner's intervention coupled with President Kruger's moderationand wisdom in allowing England to punish her own irregular soldiers. Themore one heard of the whole affair, the more it seemed to resemble ascene out of a comic opera. The only people at Johannesburg who hadderived any advantage from the confusion were several hitherto unknownmilitary commanders, who had proudly acquired the title of Colonel, andhad promptly named a body of horse after themselves. During the daysbefore the final fiasco these leaders used to make short detours roundthe town in full regimentals, and finally fill up the time by beingphotographed in groups. Mercifully, as it turned out, they were notready for active service when Dr. Jameson was reported at Krugersdorp. 

We made an excursion to the so-called battle-field before leaving for theSouth. We started in a covered waggonette with no springs to speak of, drawn by six mules, and a pair of horses as leaders. Two Kaffirs actedas charioteers, and kept up an incessant jabber in Dutch. The one whoheld the reins looked good-natured enough, but the other, whose duty itwas to wield the enormously long whip, had a most diabolical cast ofcountenance, in which cruelty and doggedness were both clearly depicted. We found his face a true indication of his character before the end ofthe day. Bumping gaily along, we soon left the well-built houses behind, and after passing the Malay quarter of the town, remarkable by reason ofthe quaint houses these blacks make out of paraffin tins, flattened outand nailed together with wonderful neatness, we emerged on the openveldt. Of course the road was of the roughest description, and sometimeswe had to hold on with all our might to avoid the concussion of ourheads with the wooden roof. In spite of this, as soon as the Kaffirssaw an open space before them, the huge whip was cracked, and away wentour team at full gallop, seemingly quite out of control, the driverleaning back in his seat with a contented grin, while his colleaguemanipulated the unwieldy whip. The tract ran parallel to the Rand forsome distance, and we got a splendid view of Johannesburg and the row ofchimney-shafts that so clearly define the reef. 

On passing Langlaate village, we were stopped by a party of Boers, whohad off-saddled by the side of the road. As they were fully armed andtheir appearance was not prepossessing, we expected to be ordered toalight while our conveyance was being searched. However, our fears wereunfounded, and they were most polite. The driver muttered something inDutch, whereupon the leader came to the door, and said in brokenEnglish: "Peeck neeck--I see all right. " I am sorry to say one of thegentlemen of our party muttered "Brute" in an audible whisper; but, then, he had undergone a short, but a very unpleasant term ofimprisonment, with no sort of excuse, at the instance of a Boer_Veldtcornet_, so no wonder he had vowed eternal vengeance. Luckily, this officer did not hear, or else did not understand, the ejaculation, so after a civil interchange of good-days we drove on. 

After about three hours we reached a shallow ford over a wide stream, and our driver informed us that this was our destination. Leaving thecarriage, we walked up to some rocks overlooking the stream, whichseemed an inviting place for luncheon; but we were quickly driven away, as thereon were lying seven or eight carcasses of dead horses and mules. Curiously enough, the vultures, or "aas-vogels, " had left the skins onthese poor beasts, for I remember noticing how their coats glistened inthe sunshine. This sight was not very conducive to a good appetite, anda little farther on we saw another pathetic spectacle: a very deeptrench, made in the past by some gold-prospector, had been filled inwith rocky boulders, and was covered with withered ferns. Here lay thosewho had fallen of the Chartered Company's Forces. No doubt by now thespace is enclosed as a tiny part of God's acre, but at that time therough stones in the deep grave, and the faded flowers, seemed to enhancethe dreariness of the scene. [10] As to the locality of the finalencounter and surrender of the Raiders, there was not much to interestany but military men. Standing on the top of the eminence before alludedto, one could see the Boer position and the sore strait of their foes. Whether the column had come purposely towards this drift, as being theonly possible ford for many miles, or whether they had been guidedthereto by a treacherous guide, no one knew. One thing was certain:destruction or surrender must have stared them in the face. The kopjeson the farther side of the stream were bristling with Boers, and away onthe veldt beyond was drawn up the Staats artillery. And then onerealized a most awful blunder of the Reform Committee, from their pointof view. The Boer forces, arriving hereabouts in hot haste, from a rapidmobilization, had been almost entirely without ammunition. We were toldon good authority that each burgher had but six rounds, and that thefield-guns were without any shells at all. During the night thenecessary supply was brought by rail from Pretoria, actually rightthrough Johannesburg. Either by accident or mature reflection on thepart of the conspirators in that city, this train was allowed to pass toits destination unmolested. It proved to be one of those smallhappenings that completely alter the course of events. If the burghershad not stopped the Raiders there, nothing could have prevented themfrom entering Johannesburg, for after another three miles thelong-sought-for chimneys--the overhanging cloud of smoke--would havecome into view. The very stars in their courses seemed to have foughtfor the Boers, and justified President Kruger's belief that his peoplewere specially under the protection of Providence. [11] Neither willanyone ever determine the number of Boers killed at Krugersdorp. One_Veldtcornet_ inserted in all the papers that he defied anyone to provethat more than four burghers were shot, and of these two were killedaccidentally by their own rifles. Residents on the spot, however, averred that many more fell; but I think the point was not disputed inview of President Kruger's famous claim for "moral and intellectualdamages, " which was then already beginning to be mooted. 

The lengthening shadows at last reminded us that we had to return totown for a dinner-party given in our honour. It usually takes some timeto catch a team of six mules and two horses turned out to graze on theveldt; it is endless, however, when they are as frightened of theirdrivers as ours appeared to be. At length they were collected and wemade a start, and then our adventures began. First the leader, a whitehorse, jibbed. Off jumped the Kaffir coachman, and commenced hammeringthe poor brute unmercifully over head, ears, and body, with what theycalled in Africa the _shambok_. [12] In consequence the team suddenlystarted off, but the long whip, left on the carriage roof, slipped down, and was broken in two by the wheel passing over it. Anyone who hasdriven behind mules knows how absolutely powerless the Jehu is without along whip; so here we were face to face with a real misfortune:increasing darkness, jibbing leaders, no whip, and fifteen sandy milesto traverse before dinner-time. With every sort of ejaculation and yell, and a perfect rain of blows with the _shambok_ from the Kaffir still onfoot, we lurched forward at a gallop, escaping by a hair's-breadthanother gold-prospector's trench. But the same leader jibbed again afteranother mile. I must admit he was a most irritating brute, whoseobstinacy had been increased by the cruelty of the driver. It was nowdecided to put him in the "wheel, " where he would be obliged to do hiswork. We crawled on again till our white friend literally threw himselfdown. I have related this incident to show how cruel Kaffirs can be, fornow the rage of the evil-looking driver burst forth. He not onlyhammered the prostrate horse to any extent, but then made the rest ofthe team pull on, so as to drag him along on his side. Of course thiscould not be allowed, and Major ---- jumped out and commanded him todesist, take out the useless horse, and tie him behind. At first theKaffir was very mutinous, and it was only when a stick was laidthreateningly across his back that he sulkily complied, looking thewhile as if he would like to murder the man he was forced to obey. Onehears so much nowadays of the black population having equal rights withthe white inhabitants, that it is well to remember how ferociously theirlack of civilization occasionally comes out. Doubtless there are cruelmen both white and black, but for downright brutality the nigger is hardto beat, and it is also quite certain that whom the latter does not fearhe will not love. I have personally experienced great devotion and mostattentive service on the part of natives, and they are deserving of thekindest and most considerate treatment; but it has often made meindignant to hear people, who have had little or no experience of livingin the midst of a native population, prate of the rights of our "blackbrothers, " and argue as if the latter thought, judged, amusedthemselves, or, in short, behaved, as the white men do, who have theadvantage of hundreds of years of culture. 

The day following our drive to Krugersdorp we left for Cape Town andEngland. We made the voyage on the old _Roslin Castle_. Always a slowboat, she had on this occasion, in sporting parlance, a "wing down, "having broken a piston-rod on her way out from England, when we hadvainly awaited her at Cape Town, and I think it was nearly three weeksbefore we landed at Plymouth. Again Randolph's African journey wasbrought back to my recollection. The captain of the _Roslin Castle_, Travers by name, had commanded the _Scot_, which brought his party homefrom Mashonaland, and he had very agreeable recollections of many aninteresting conversation and of quiet rubbers of whist. 

Numerous and exciting events had been crowded into the past six weeks, and in spite of revolutions and strife we had found our South Africanvisit a very pleasant one. A curious thing about that continent is: youmay dislike it or fall under its charm, but in any case it nearly alwayscalls you back. It certainly did in my case; and while recalling thepeople we had met and the information we had acquired it was impossiblenot to think a little of the Boers themselves, their characteristics andtheir failings. At Johannesburg I had been specially struck by men, whoknew them from long experience, telling me how fully they appreciatedthe good points of the burghers--for instance, their bravery, their loveof their country, and their simple, unquestioning, if unattractivefaith, which savoured of that of the old Puritans. Against theseattributes their pig-headedness, narrow-mindedness, laziness, andslovenliness had to be admitted. All these defects militated againsttheir living in harmony with a large, increasing, and up-to-datecommunity like the Johannesburg Uitlanders. Still, one could not forgetthat the Transvaal was their country, ceded to them by the Englishnation. They left Cape Colony years ago, to escape our laws, which theyconsidered unjust. It is certain we should never have followed them intothe Transvaal but for the sudden discovery of the gold industry; it isequally true they had not the power or the wish to develop this forthemselves, and yet without it they were a bankrupt nation. There is nodoubt that the men who made the most mischief, and who for yearsembarrassed the President, were the "Hollanders, " or officials sent outfrom the mother-country of the Dutch. They looked on the Transvaal onlyas a means for getting rich. Hence the fearful state of bribery andcorruption among them, from the highest official downwards. But thisvery bribery and corruption were sometimes exceedingly convenient, and Iremember well, when I revisited Johannesburg in 1902, at the conclusionof the war, hearing people inveigh against the hard bargains driven bythe English Government; they even went so far as to sigh again for thegood old days of Kruger's rule. Now all is changed once more, afteranother turn of the kaleidoscope of time, and yet it is well to rememberthat such things have indeed been. 

CHAPTER V

 THREE YEARS AFTER--LORD MILNER AT CAPE TOWN BEFORE THE WAR--MR. CECIL RHODES AT GROOT SCHUURR--OTHER INTERESTING PERSONAGES

 "There are many echoes in the world, but few voices. " GOETHE. 

On May 6, 1899, we sailed from Southampton on the S. S. _Norman_. Wepurposed to spend a few months in Rhodesia, but such is the frailty ofhuman plans that eventually we stayed in South Africa for one year andthree months. 

Dr. Jameson was our fellow-passenger to Cape Town, and with him wetravelled up to Bulawayo, and passed five weeks there as the guests ofMajor Maurice Heaney. [13] Part of this time we spent on the veldt, farfrom civilization, sleeping in tents, and using riding ponies and mulewaggons as transport. I can recommend this life as a splendid cure forany who are run down or overworked. The climate of Rhodesia in the monthof June is perfection; rain is unknown, except as the accompaniment ofoccasional thunderstorms; and it is never too hot to be pleasant. Gamewas even then practically non-existent in Matabeleland, but our objectwas to inspect the mines of Major Heaney's various companies. Thecountry was pretty and well wooded, and we crossed many river-beds, amongst them the wide Umzingwani. This stream is a mighty torrent duringthe rains, but, like many others in South Africa, it becomes perfectlydry during the winter season, a peculiarity of the continent, whichcaused a disappointed man to write that South Africa produced "birdswithout song, flowers without smell, and rivers without water. "

While camped on the banks of this vanished river, we used to hear lionsroaring as evening fell, and could distinguish their soft pads in thedry sand next morning; but they were so shy that we never caught aglimpse of one, nor could they be tempted into any ambush. 

During these weeks the abortive Bloemfontein Conference had been holdingits useless sessions; the political world seemed so unsettled, and warappeared so exceedingly likely, that we decided to return to Cape Town, especially as Mr. Rhodes, who was expected out from England almostimmediately, had cabled asking us to stay at Groot Schuurr, where wearrived early in July. A few days afterwards I had a ticket given me towitness the opening of the Legislative Council, or Upper House, by SirAlfred Milner. It was an imposing ceremony, and carried out with greatsolemnity. The centre of the fine hall was filled with ladies--in fact, on first arriving, it gave one the idea of a ladies' parliament; but ina few minutes the members filed in, shortly before the state entry ofHis Excellency the Governor. Then, for the first time, I saw the man ofthe hour; dignified without being stiff, and looking every inch hispart, he went through his rôle to perfection. The speech was, as usual, utterly devoid of interest, and, contrary to the hope of excitedpartisans, Transvaal affairs were studiously avoided. A few days laterwe went to Government House to be introduced to Sir Alfred; he at onceimpressed a stranger as a man of intense strength of mind and purpose, underlying a somewhat delicate physique, which was at that time, perhaps, enhanced by a decidedly worn and worried expression ofcountenance. Later on I had many conversations with Mr. Rhodes about theGovernor. He used to say--and no one was better qualified to judge--thatSir Alfred Milner was one of the strongest men he had ever met. "In thebusiness I am constantly having to transact with him, connected with theChartered Company, " he remarked, "I find him, his mind once made up, unmovable--so much so that we tacitly agree to drop at once any subjectthat we do not agree on, for nothing could be gained by discussing it. Iallow he makes his decisions slowly, but once made they areirrevocable. "

Mr. Rhodes used also to say he admired beyond words Sir Alfred'sbehaviour and the line he adopted in that most difficult crisis beforethe war. "He assumes, " said his appreciator, "an attitude of perfectfrankness with all parties; he denies himself to no one who may give himany information or throw fresh light on the situation; to all heexpresses his views, and repeats his unalterable opinions of what isrequired. "

Other people told me how true these words were, and how ingeniously andyet ingenuously Sir Alfred Milner contrived to treat a unique position. Standing alone, the central isolated figure, surrounded by a young andinexperienced staff, his political advisers men for whom he could havebut little sympathy, and whose opinions he knew to be in realitydiametrically opposed to his and to the present policy at home, theGovernor steered clear of intrigue and personal quarrels by hisintensely straightforward and able conduct. He was in the habit ofalmost daily seeing Mr. Rhodes, financiers from Johannesburg, militarymen thirsting for war, who were commencing to arrive from England, aswell as his Cabinet Ministers. To these latter he probably volunteeredinformation about the other interviews he had had, thereby disarmingtheir criticisms. 

From one great man I must pass to another. A few days after our arrivalat Groot Schuurr, Mr. Rhodes and Sir Charles Metcalfe arrived fromEngland. Incidentally I may mention the former's marvellous reception, and the fact that nearly five miles of road between Cape Town and GrootSchuurr were decorated with flags and triumphal arches, while the daywas observed as a general holiday. This had happened to him in a minordegree so often before that it did not arouse much comment. The sameevening we attended a monster meeting at the Drill Hall, where thousandsof faces were turned simultaneously towards the platform to welcome backtheir distinguished citizen. The cheering went on for ten minutes, andwas again and again renewed, till the enthusiasm brought a lump to manythroats, and certainly deeply affected the central figure of theevening. This meeting, at which no less than a hundred addresses werepresented from every part of Africa--from the far-off Zambesi to thefruit-growing district of the Paarl, almost entirely populated byDutch--even this great demonstration that one great man was capable ofinspiring quickly faded from my memory in view of the insight whichthree weeks as his guest gave me of the many sides of his life, occupations, and character. The extraordinary strength of will andtenacity of purpose, points always insisted on in connection with him, seemed on nearer acquaintance to be merely but a small part of amarvellous whole. 

It often used to occur to me, when with Mr. Rhodes, how desirable itwould be to induce our sons and young men in general to imitate some ofthe characteristics which were the motive power of his life, andtherefore of his success. I noticed especially the wonderful power ofconcentration of thought he possessed, and which he applied to anysubject, no matter how trivial. The variety and scope of his manyprojects did not lessen his interest in any one of them. At that time hewas building four railways in Rhodesia, which country was also pinningits faith to him for its development, its prosperity, and, indeed, its_modus vivendi_. Apart from this, Cape politics, although he then heldno official position, were occupying a great deal of his time andthoughts in view of future Federation. It was, therefore, marvellous tosee him putting his whole mind to such matters as his prize poultry andbeasts at the home farm, to the disposing of the same in what he termed"my country, " or to the arranging of his priceless collection ofglass--even to the question of a domicile for the baby lioness latelypresented to him. Again, one moment he might be talking of De Beersbusiness, involving huge sums of money, the next discussing the progressof his thirty fruit-farms in the Drakenstein district, where he had nofewer than 100, 000 fruit-trees; another time his horse-breedingestablishment at Kimberley was engaging his attention, or, nearer home, the road-making and improvements at Groot Schuurr, where he even knewthe wages paid to the 200 Cape boys he was then employing. Mr. Rhodeswas always in favour of doing things on a large scale, made easy, certainly, by his millionaire's purse. Sometimes a gardener or bailiffwould ask for two or three dozen rose or fruit trees. "There is no use, "he would exclaim impatiently, "in two dozen of anything. My good man, you should count in hundreds and thousands, not dozens. That is the onlyway to produce any effect or to make any profit. " Another of histheories was that people who dwelt in or near towns never had sufficientfresh air. During one of our morning rides I remember his stopping atelegraph-boy, and asking him where he lived. When the lad had told him, he said: "I suppose there are no windows in your cottage; you had bettergo to Rhodesia, where you will find space, and where you won't getcramped ideas. " Then he rode on, leaving the boy staring at him withopen eyes. An attractive attribute was his love of his earlyassociations, his father especially being often the theme of hisconversation. He used freely to express his admiration for the type thelatter represented, now almost extinct, of the old-fashioned countryclergyman-squire. He held with tenacity to the traditions of hischildhood in having always a cold supper on Sunday evenings, instead ofthe usual elaborate dinner, also in having the cloth removed fordessert, to display the mahogany, of which, alas! few of our tables arenow made. With stupidity, or anything thereto approaching, he was apt tobe impatient; neither could he stand young men who affected indifferenceto, or boredom with, the events and sights of the day. I often used tothink, however, he frightened people, and that they did not show totheir best advantage, nor was their intelligence at its brightest whentalking with him. I now refer especially to those in his employ. 

To his opponents in the political world he was generous when discussingthem in private, however bitter and stinging his remarks were in public. I remember one evening, on Mr. Merriman's name being mentioned, how Mr. Rhodes dilated for some time on his charms as a friend and as acolleague; he told me I should certainly take an opportunity of makinghis acquaintance. "I am so fond of Merriman, " he added; "he is one ofthe most cultivated of men and the most charming of companions that Iknow. We shall come together again some day. " And this of the man whowas supposed then to hate Cecil John Rhodes with such a deadly hatredthat he, an Englishman born, was said to have been persuaded to Dutchsympathies by his vindictive feelings against one greatfellow-countryman. Before leaving the subject of Mr. Rhodes, I must notehis intense kindness of heart and genuine hospitality. Groot Schuurr wasa rendezvous for people of all classes, denominations, and politics;they were all welcome, and they certainly all came. From morn till evethey passed in and out, very often to proffer a request, or, again, simply to pay their respects and have the pleasure of a few minutes'chat. After his morning ride, Mr. Rhodes, if nothing called him to town, usually walked about his beautiful house, the doors and windows of whichstood open to admit the brilliant sunshine and to enable him to enjoyglimpses of his beloved Table Mountain, or the brilliant colours of thesalvia and plumbago planted in beds above the stoep. I often call tomind that tall figure, probably in the same costume in which he hadridden--white flannel trousers and tweed coat--his hair rather rough, from a habit he had of passing his hand through it when talking orthinking. He would wander through the rooms, enjoying the pleasure oflooking at his many beautiful pieces of furniture and curiosities ofall sorts, nearly all of which had a history. Occasionally shifting apiece of rare old glass or blue Delft china, he would the while talk toanyone who chanced to come in, greeting heartily his old friends, andremembering every detail of their circumstances, opinions, and conduct. Concerning the latter, he did not fail to remind them of any failings hehad taken note of. Those who were frauds, incompetent, or lazy, he neverspared, and often such conversations were a source of much amusement tome. On the other hand, those who had been true to him, and had notveered round with the tide of public opinion after 1896, were everremembered and rewarded. It was remarkable to note the various Dutchmembers of the Assembly who dropped in, sometimes stealthily in theearly morning hours, or, like Nicodemus, by night. One such gentlemancame to breakfast one day, bringing as a gift two curious antique pipesand a pouch of Boer tobacco. The pipes were awarded a place in a glasscabinet, and the giver most heartily thanked; he finally departed, wellpleased with himself. Now comes a curious trait in the man's character. Before leaving he whispered to a friend the request that the fact of hisvisit should not be mentioned in Cape Town circles. This request wasnaturally repeated at once to Mr. Rhodes, much to the latter'samusement. As ill-luck would have it, the cautious gentleman left hisumbrella behind, with his name in full on the handle; this remained aprominent object on the hall table till, when evening fell, a trustedemissary came to recover it. 

I often used to visit the House of Assembly or Lower House during thatsession, and it was instructive to note the faces of the Opposition whenRhodesia and its undoubted progress were subjects of discussion, andespecially when Mr. Rhodes was on his feet, claiming the undividedattention of the House. It was not his eloquence that kept people soattentive, for no one could call him eloquent; it was the singularlyexpressive voice, the (at times) persuasive manner, and, above all, theinteresting things his big ideas gave him to say, that preserved thatcomplete silence. But, as I said before, the faces of his thenantagonists--albeit quondam friends--hardly disguised their thoughtssufficiently. They were forced to consider the country of the man theyfeared--the country to which he had given his name--as a factor in theircolony; they had to admit it to their financial calculations, and allthe time they would fain have crushed the great pioneer under theirfeet. They had, indeed, hoped to see him humbled and abashed after hisone fatal mistake, instead of which he had gone calmly on his way--aColossus indeed--with the set purpose, as a guiding star ever before hiseyes, to retrieve the error which they had fondly imagined would havedelivered him into their hands. Truly an impressive and curious studywas that House of Assembly in the session of 1899. 

The number of people, more or less interesting, whom we met at GrootSchuurr, seemed to pass as actors on a stage, sometimes almost toorapidly to distinguish or individualize. But one or two stand outspecially in my recollection. Among them, a type of a fine oldgentleman, was Colonel Schermbrucker. A German by birth, and overseventy years of age, he had served originally in the Papal Guard, andhad accompanied Pio Nono on the occasion of his famous flight from Rome. Somewhere in the fifties, at the time of the arrival of the GermanLegion, he had settled at the Cape, and had been a figure in politicsever since. His opinions were distinctly English and progressive, but itwas more as an almost extinct type of the courtly old gentleman that heimpressed me. His extreme activity for his years, his old-world manners, and his bright intelligence, were combinations one does not often meet, and would have made him an interesting figure in any assembly orcountry. Another day came Judge Coetzee, erstwhile Kruger's confidantand right hand, but then of a very different way of thinking to his oldmaster. His remark on the warlike situation was as follows: "Kruger isonly a white Kaffir chief, and as such respects force, and force only. Send sufficient soldiers, and there will be no fighting. " This was alsoMr. Rhodes's view, but, as it turned out, both were wrong. In themeantime the sands were running out, and the troops were almost on thewater, and yet the old man remained obdurate. 

Outside the hospitable haven of Groot Schuurr I one day met Mr. Merrimanat lunch as the guest of Mr. And Mrs. Richard Solomon. [14] Considerablyabove the average height, with a slight stoop and grey hair, Mr. Merriman was a man whose appearance from the first claimed interest. Itwas a few days after his Budget speech, which, from various innovations, had aroused a storm of criticism, as Budgets are wont to do. Whateverhis private feelings were about the English, to me the Finance Ministerwas very pleasant and friendly. We talked of fruit-farming, in which hetakes a great interest, of England, and even of his Budget, and neverdid he show any excitement or irritation till someone happened tomention the word "Imperialist. " Then he burst out with, "That word and'Empire' have been so done to death by every wretched little Jewstockbroker in this country that I am fairly sick of them. " "But surelyyou are not a Little Englander, Mr. Merriman, " I said, "or a followerof Mr. Labouchere?" To this he gave an evasive reply, and the topicdropped. I must relate another incident of our sojourn at Cape Town. Introduced by Mr. Rhodes's architect, Mr. Baker, we went one day to seea Mrs. Koopman, then a well-known personage in Cape Town Dutch society, but who, I believe, is now dead. Her collection of Delft china wassupposed to be very remarkable. She lived in a quaint old house withdiamond-paned windows, in one of the back streets, the whole edificelooking as if it had not been touched for a hundred years. Mrs. Koopmanwas an elderly lady, most suitably dressed in black, with a widow's cap, and she greeted us very kindly and showed us all her treasuredpossessions. I was disappointed in the contents of the rooms, which werecertainly mixed, some very beautiful things rubbing shoulders withmodern specimens of clumsy early Victorian furniture. A room at the backwas given up to the Delft china, but even this was spoilt by ordinaryyellow arabesque wall-paper, on which were hung the rare plates anddishes, and by some gaudy window curtains, evidently recently added. Thecollection itself, made by Mrs. Koopman at very moderate prices, beforeexperts bought up all the Dutch relics, was then supposed to be of greatvalue. Our hostess conversed in good English with a foreign accent, andwas evidently a person of much intelligence and culture. She had been, and still was, a factor in Cape politics, formerly as a great admirer ofMr. Rhodes, but after 1896 as one of his bitterest opponents, who usedall her considerable influence--her house being a meeting-place for theBond party--against him and his schemes. We had, in fact, been told sheheld a sort of political salon, though hardly in the same way we thinkof it in England as connected with Lady Palmerston, her guests beingentirely confined to one party--viz. , the Dutch. This accounted for ablunder on my part. Having heard that Mrs. Koopman had been greatlyperturbed by the young Queen of Holland's representations to PresidentKruger in favour of the Uitlanders, and seeing many photographs of thischarming-looking girl in the room, I thought I should be right inalluding to her as "your little Queen. " "She is not my Queen, " was theindignant reply; "Queen Victoria is my Queen. " And then, quickly turningto Mr. Baker, she continued: "What have you been telling Lady Sarah tomake her think I am not loyal?" Of course I had to disclaim andapologize, but, in view of her well-known political opinions andsympathies, I could not help thinking her extreme indignation a littleunnecessary. 

FOOTNOTES:

[9] Lord Randolph Churchill died in January, 1895. 

[10] The soldiers' graves in South Africa have since then been carefullytended by the Loyal Women's Guild. 

[11] The President's favourite psalm was said to be the 144th, which healways believed was written to apply specially to the Boers. 

[12] Short whip. 

[13] Major Heaney is an American, and was one of the pioneers whoaccompanied Dr. Jameson to Mashonaland in 1891. 

[14] Mr. Richard Solomon, then Attorney-General, now Sir RichardSolomon. 

CHAPTER VI

 PREPARATIONS FOR WAR--MAFEKING, AND DEPARTURE THEREFROM

 "War seldom enters, but where wealth allures. " DRYDEN. 

In August we left Cape Town, and I went to Bulawayo, where I spent twomonths. Gordon[15] had been appointed A. D. C. To Colonel Baden-Powell, and during this time was with his chief on the western borders. Thelatter was engaged in raising two regiments of irregular horse, whichwere later known as the Protectorate Regiments, and were recruitedprincipally from the district between Mafeking and Bulawayo. At thelatter town was also another English lady, Mrs. Godley, whose husbandwas second in command of one of these regiments. It can easily beimagined that there was little else discussed then but warlike subjects, and these were two dreary and anxious months. We had little reliablenews; the local newspapers had no special cables, and only publishedrumours that were current in the town. Mr. Rochfort Maguire, who wasthen staying with Mr. Rhodes at Cape Town, used frequently to telegraphus news from there. One day he would report President Kruger wasclimbing down; the next, that he had once more hardened his heart. Andso this modern Pharaoh kept us all on tenterhooks. The drilling andexercising of the newly recruited troops were the excitements of theday. Soon Colonel Plumer[16] arrived, and assumed command of one of theregiments, which was encamped on the racecourse just outside the town;the other regiment had its headquarters at Mafeking. ColonelBaden-Powell and his Staff used to dash up and down between the twotowns. Nearly all the business men in Bulawayo enlisted, and amongst theofficers were some experienced soldiers, who had seen all theMatabeleland fighting, and some of whom had even participated in theRaid. Others who used to drop in for a game of bridge were Lord TimmyPaulet, [17] Mr. Geoffrey Glyn, and Dr. Jameson. To while away the time, I took a course of ambulance lessons, learning how to bandage byexperiments on the lanky arms and legs of a little black boy. We alsomade expeditions to the various mining districts. I was always struckwith the hospitality shown us in these out-of-the-way localities, andwith the cosiness of the houses belonging to the married mine-managers. Only Kaffirs were available as servants, but, in spite of this, anexcellent repast was always produced, and the dwellings were full oftheir home treasures. Prints of the present King and Queen abounded, andamong the portraits of beautiful Englishwomen, either photographs ormerely reproductions cut out of an illustrated newspaper, I found thoseof Lady de Grey, [18] Georgiana, Lady Dudley, and Mrs. Langtry, [19] mostfrequently adorning the walls of those lonely homes. 

At last, at the end of September, a wire informed us that hostilitieswere expected to begin in Natal the following week, and I left forMafeking, intending to proceed to Cape Town and home. On arrival atMafeking everyone told us an attack on the town was imminent, and wefound the inhabitants in a state of serious alarm. However, Baden-Powell's advent reassured them, and preparations for war proceededapace; the townspeople flocked in to be enrolled in the town guard, spending the days in being drilled; the soldiers were busy throwing upsuch fortifications as were possible under the circumstances. On October3 the armoured train arrived from the South, and took its first trip onthe rails, which had been hastily flung down round the circumference ofthe town. This train proved afterwards to be absolutely useless when theBoers brought up their artillery. Night alarms occurred frequently;bells would ring, and the inhabitants, who mostly slept in theirclothes, had to rush to their various stations. I must admit that thesenocturnal incidents were somewhat unpleasant. Still war was notdeclared, and the large body of Boers, rumoured as awaiting the signalto advance on Mafeking, gave no sign of approaching any nearer. 

We were, indeed, as jolly as the proverbial sandboys during those fewdays in Mafeking before the war commenced. If Colonel Baden-Powell hadforebodings, he kept them to himself. Next to him in importance cameLord Edward Cecil, Grenadier Guards, C. S. O. I have often heard it saidthat if Lord Edward had been a member of any other family but that ofthe gifted Cecils he would have been marked as a genius, and that if hehad not been a soldier he would surely have been a politician of note. Then there was Major Hanbury Tracy, Royal Horse Guards, who occupied theposition of Director of Military Intelligence. This officer was alwaysdevising some amusing if wild-cat schemes, which were to annihilate orcheckmate the Boers, and prove eventually the source of fame to himself. Mr. Ronald Moncrieff, [20] an extra A. D. C. , was, as usual, not blestwith a superabundance of this world's goods, but had an unending supplyof animal spirits, and he was looking forward to a siege as a means ofeconomizing. Another of our circle was Major Hamilton Gould Adams, [21]Resident Commissioner of the Bechuanaland Protectorate, who commandedthe town guard, representing the civil as opposed to the militaryinterests. In contrast to the usual practice, these departments workedperfectly smoothly together at Mafeking. 

Colonel Baden-Powell did not look on my presence with great favour, neither did he order me to leave, and I had a sort of presentiment thatI might be useful, considering that there were but three trained nursesin the Victoria Hospital to minister to the needs of the whole garrison. Therefore, though I talked of going South every day by one of theovercrowded trains to Cape Town, in which the Government was offeringfree tickets to any who wished to avail themselves of the opportunity, Isecretly hoped to be allowed to remain. We had taken a tiny cottage inthe town, and we had all our meals at Dixon's Hotel, where the food wasweird, but where certainly no depression of spirits reigned. I evenbought a white pony, called Dop, [22] from a Johannesburg polo-player, and this pony, one of the best I have ever ridden, had later on somecurious experiences. One day Dr. Jameson arrived on his way to Rhodesia, but he was hustled away with more haste than courtesy by GeneralBaden-Powell, who bluntly told him that if he meant to stay in the towna battery of artillery would be required to defend it; and offield-guns, in spite of urgent representations, not one had reached usfrom Cape Town. We used to ride morning and evening on the flat countrywhich surrounds Mafeking, where no tree or hill obscures the view formiles; and one then realized what a tiny place the seat of government ofthe Bechuanaland Protectorate really was, a mere speck of corrugatediron roofs on the brown expanse of the burnt-up veldt, far away fromeverywhere. I think it was this very isolation that created the interestin the siege at home, and one of the reasons why the Boers were soanxious to reduce it was that this town was practically the jumping-offplace for the Jameson Raid. So passed the days till October 13, and thenthe sword, which had been suspended by a hair, suddenly fell. 

On that day Major Gould Adams received a wire from the High Commissionerat Cape Town to the effect that the South African Republic had sent anultimatum to Her Majesty's Government, in which it demanded the removalof all troops from the Transvaal borders, fixing five o'clock thefollowing evening as a limit for their withdrawal. I had delayed mydeparture too long; it was extremely doubtful whether another trainwould be allowed to pass South, and, even when started, it would stand agreat chance of being wrecked by the Boers tearing up the rails. Underthese circumstances I was allotted comparatively safe quarters at thehouse of Mr. Benjamin Weil, of the firm of the well-known South Africanmerchants. His residence stood in the centre of the little town, adjacent to the railway-station. At that time bomb-proof undergroundshelters, with which Mafeking afterwards abounded, had not been thoughtof, or time had not sufficed for their construction. On all sides oneheard reproaches levelled at the Cape Government, and especially atGeneral Sir William Butler, until lately commanding the troops in CapeColony, for having so long withheld the modest reinforcements which hadbeen persistently asked for, and, above all, the very necessaryartillery. 

At that date the Mafeking garrison consisted of about seven or eighthundred trained troops. The artillery, under Major Panzera, comprisedfour old muzzle-loading seven-pounder guns with a short range, aone-pound Hotchkiss, one Nordenfeldt, and about seven ^{. }303 Maxims--infact, no large modern pieces whatever. The town guard, hastilyenrolled, amounted to 441 defenders, among whom nationalities werecuriously mixed, as the following table shows:

 British 378 Germans 4 Americans 4 Russians 6 Dutch 27 Norwegians 5 Swedes 2 Arabs and Indians 15 ____

 Total 441[23]

This force did not appear sufficiently strong to resist the three orfour thousand Boers, with field-guns, who were advancing to its attackunder one of their best Generals--namely Cronje--but everyone remainedwonderfully calm, and the townspeople rose to the occasion in a mostcreditable manner. 

Very late that same evening, just as I was going to bed, I received amessage from Colonel Baden-Powell, through one of his Staff, to say hehad just been informed, on trustworthy authority, that no less than8, 000 burghers composed the force likely to arrive on the morrow, thatit was probable they would rush the town, and that the garrison would beobliged to fight its way out. He concluded by begging me to leave atonce by road for the nearest point of safety. Naturally I had to obey. Ishall never forget that night: it was cold and gusty after a hot day, with frequent clouds obscuring the moon, as we walked round to MajorGould Adams's house to secure a Cape cart and some Government mules, inorder that I might depart at dawn. At first I was ordered to Kanya, amission-station some seventy miles away, an oasis in the KalahariDesert. This plan gave rise to a paragraph which I afterwards saw insome of the daily papers, that I had left Mafeking under the escort of amissionary, and some cheery spirit made a sketch of my supposeddeparture as reproduced here. Later on, however, it was thoughtprovisions might run short in that secluded spot, so I was told toproceed to Setlagoli, a tiny store, or hotel as we should call it, witha shop attached, thirty-five miles south in Bechuanaland, on the mainroad to Kimberley, from which quarter eventually succour was expected. My few preparations completed, I simply had to sit down and wait fordaybreak, sleep being entirely out of the question. In the night thewind increased, and howled mournfully round the house. At four o'clock, when day was about to break, I was ready to start, and some farewellshad to be said. These were calm, but not cheerful, for it was my firmbelief that, in all human probability, I should never see the familiarfaces again, knowing well they would sell their lives dearly. 

It was reported amongst my friends at home that, in order to escapefrom Mafeking, my maid and myself had ridden 200 miles. One newspaperextract was sent me which said, concerning this fictitious ride, that it"was all very well for Lady Sarah, who doubtless was accustomed toviolent exercise, but we commiserate her poor maid. " Their pity waswasted, for the departure of my German maid Metelka and myself tookplace prosaically in that most vile of all vehicles, a Cape cart. Sixfine mules were harnessed to our conveyance, and our two smallportmanteaus were strapped on behind. The Jehu was a Cape boy, and, tocomplete the cortege, my white pony Dop brought up the rear, ridden by aZulu called Vellum. This boy, formerly Dr. Jameson's servant, remainedmy faithful attendant during the siege; beneath his dusky skin beat aheart of gold, and to him I could safely have confided uncountedtreasures. As the daylight increased so did the wind in violence; it wasblowing a perfect gale, and the dust and sand were blinding. Weoutspanned for breakfast twelve miles out, at the farm of a presumablyloyal Dutchman; then on again, the wind by now having become ahurricane, aggravated by the intensely hot rays of a scorching sun. Ihave never experienced such a miserable drive, and I almost began tounderstand the feelings of people who commit suicide. However, the longday wore to a close, and at length we reached Setlagoli store andhotel, kept by a nice old Scotch couple, Mr. And Mrs. Fraser. The latterwas most kind, and showed us two nice clean rooms. Here, anyway, Itrusted to find a haven of rest. This hope was of short duration, forSergeant Matthews, in charge of the Mounted Police depôt, soon came andtold me natives reported several hundred Boers at Kraipann, only tenmiles away. He said they were lying in wait for the second armouredtrain, which was expected to pass to Mafeking that very night, carryingthe howitzers so badly needed there, and some lyddite shells. Thesergeant opined the Boers would probably come on here if victorious, andloot the store, and he added that such marauding bands were more to befeared than the disciplined ones under Cronje. He even suggested myleaving by moonlight that very night. The driver, however, was unwillingto move, and we were all so exhausted that I decided to risk it andremain, the faithful sergeant promising to send scouts out and warn usshould the enemy be approaching. I was fully determined that, havingleft Mafeking, where I might have been of use, I would run no risks ofcapture or impertinence from the burghers, who would also certainlycommandeer our cart, pony, and mules. 

Then followed another endless night; the moon set at 1 a. M. , andoccasionally I was roused by the loud and continuous barking of thefarm dogs. At four o'clock Vellum's dusky countenance peered into theroom, which opened on to the stoep, as do nearly all the apartments ofthese hotels, to ask if the mules should be inspanned, for these nativeswere all in wholesale dread of the Boers. Hearing all was quiet, I toldhim to wait till the sergeant appeared. About an hour later I opened mydoor to have a look at the weather: the wind had dropped completely, thesky was cloudless, and a faint tinge of pink on the distant horizondenoted where the east lay. I was about to shut it again and dress, whena dull booming noise arrested my attention, then almost froze the bloodin my veins. There was no mistaking the firing of big guns at no verygreat distance. 

We are accustomed to such a sound when salutes are fired or on afield-day, but I assure those who have not had a like experience, thatto hear the same in actual warfare, and to know that each detonation isdealing death and destruction to human beings and property, sends ashiver down the back akin to that produced by icy cold water. I countedfour or five; then there it was again and again and again, tillaltogether I reckoned twenty shots, followed by impressive silence oncemore, so intense in the quiet peace of the morning landscape. On thefarm, however, there was stir and bustle enough: alarmed nativesgathered in a group, weird figures with blankets round theirshoulders--for the air was exceedingly cold--all looking with strainingeyes in the direction of Kraipann, from where the firing evidently came. I soon joined the people, white and back, in front of the store, andbefore long a mounted Kaffir rode wildly up, and proceeded, with manygesticulations, to impart information in his own tongue. His story tooksome time, but at last a farmer turned round and told me the engagementhad been with the armoured train, as we anticipated, and that the latterhad "fallen down" (as the Kaffir expressed it) owing to the rails beingpulled up. What had been the fate of its occupants he did not know, ashe had left in terror when the big gun opened fire. Curiously enough, asI afterwards learnt, these shots were the first fired during the war. 

Remembering the sergeant's warning, I decided to start at once forMosita, twenty-five miles farther away from the border, leaving Vellumto bring on any further intelligence when the sergeant, who had beenaway all night watching the Boers, returned. We now traversed a fineopen grassy country, very desolate, with no human habitation. The onlysigns of life were various fine "pows"[24] stalking sedately along, or"korans, " starting up with their curious chuckle rather like the noteof a pheasant, or a covey of guinea-fowl scurrying across the road andlosing themselves in the waving grass. Meanwhile the driver kept up anincessant conversation with the mules, and I found myself listening tohis varying epithets with stupefied curiosity. During that four hours'drive we only met two natives and one huge herd of cattle, which werebeing driven by mounted Kaffirs, armed with rifles, to Mosita, ourdestination, where it was hoped they would be out of the way ofmarauding Boers. At last we reached the native stadt of Mosita, whereour appearance created great excitement. Crowds of swarthy men andyouths rushed out to question our driver as to news. The latter waxedeloquent in words and gestures, imitating even the noise of the big gun, which seemed to produce great enthusiasm among these simple folk. Theirruling passion, I afterwards found, was hatred and fear of the Boers, and their dearest wish to possess guns and ammunition to join theEnglish in driving them back and to defend their cattle. In the distancewe could see the glimmering blue waters of a huge dam, beyond which wasthe farm and homestead of a loyal colonial farmer named Keeley, whosehospitality I had been told to seek. Close by were the barracks, withseven or eight occupants, the same sort of depôt as at Setlagoli. Iasked to see Mrs. Keeley, and boldly announced we had come to beg for afew nights' lodging. We were most warmly received and made welcome. Thekindness of the Keeleys is a bright spot in my recollections of thosedark weeks. Mrs. Keeley herself was in a dreadful state of anxiety, asshe had that very day received a letter from her husband in Mafeking, whither he had proceeded on business, to say he found he must remain andhelp defend the town; his assistance was urgently needed there inobtaining information respecting the Boers from the natives, whoselanguage he talked like his own. She had five small children, and wasshortly expecting an addition to her family, so at last I had foundsomeone who was more to be pitied than myself. She, on the other hand, told me our arrival was a godsend to her, as it took her thoughts offher troubles. 

Affairs in the neighbourhood seemed in a strange confusion. Mr. Keeleywas actually the _Veldtcornet_ of the district, an office which in timesof peace corresponded to that of a magistrate. In reality he was shut upin Mafeking, siding against the Dutch. The surrounding country waspeopled entirely, if sparsely, by Dutch farmers and natives, the formerof whom at first and before our reverses professed sympathy with theEnglish; but no wonder the poor wife looked to the future with dread, fearful lest British disasters would be followed by Boer reprisals. 

Towards sunset Vellum appeared with a note from Sergeant Matthews. Itran as follows:

"The armoured train captured; its fifteen occupants all killed. [25]Boers opened fire on the train with field artillery. "

In our isolation these words sank into our souls like lead, and wereintensified by the fact that we had that very morning been so near thescene of the tragedy--"reverse" I would not allow it to be called, forfifteen men had tried conclusions with 400 Boers, and had been merelyhopelessly outnumbered. The latter had, however, scored an initialsuccess, and the intelligence cast a gloom, even where all was blackestnight. Vellum brought a few more verbal details, to the effect thatSergeant Matthews had actually succeeded in stopping the armoured trainafter pursuing it on horseback for some way, expecting every moment tobe taken for a Boer and fired on. He asked to speak to the officer incharge, and a young man put his head over the truck. Matthews then toldhim that several hundred Boers were awaiting the train, stronglyentrenched, and that the metals were up for about three-quarters of amile. "Is that all?" was the answer; then, turning to the engine-driver, "Go straight ahead. " Here was a conspicuous instance of Englishfoolhardy pluck. 

The evening was a lovely one. I took a walk along the road by which wehad come in the morning, and was soothed by the peaceful serenity of thesurrounding country. 

It seemed to be impossible that men were killing each other only a fewshort miles away. The herd of cattle we had passed came into view, andcaught sight of the water in the dam. It was curious to see the wholeherd, some five or six hundred beasts, break into a clumsy canter, and, with a bellowing noise, dash helter-skelter to the water--big oxen withhuge branching horns, meek-eyed cows, young bullocks, and tiny calves, all joining in the rush for a welcome drink after a long hot day on theveldt. 

The last news that came in that evening was that all the wires were cutnorth and south of Mafeking, and the telegraphists fled, as their liveshad been threatened. 

FOOTNOTES:

[15] Captain Gordon Wilson, Royal Horse Guards, now Lieutenant-ColonelWilson, M. V. O. 

[16] Now Major-General Sir Herbert Plumer, K. C. B. 

[17] Now Marquis of Winchester. 

[18] Now Marchioness of Ripon. 

[19] Now Lady de Bathe. 

[20] Died in Africa, 1909. 

[21] Now Sir Hamilton Gould Adams, Governor of the Orange River Colony. 

[22] Dutch for a peculiar kind of cheap brandy very popular with theBoers. 

[23] This return was given me by Major Gould Adams. 

[24] African wild-turkeys. 

[25] This was incorrect. The officer in charge and two others wereseverely wounded, the driver and stoker killed by the explosion of theboiler. 

CHAPTER VII

 IN A REBELLIOUS COLONY--VISIT TO VRYBURG DURING THE BOER OCCUPATION--I PASS OFF AS A DUTCHMAN'S SISTER

 "The days are so long, and there are so many of them. " DU MAURIER. 

During the weeks I remained at Mosita, the only book I had to read was"Trilby, " which I perused many times, and the lament of the heroine inthe line quoted above seemed to re-echo my sentiments. For days and dayswe were absolutely without news. It is impossible after a lapse of timeto realize exactly what that short sentence really means. I must ask myreaders to remember that we talked and thought of one topic only; welooked incessantly in the one direction by which messengers might come. Our nerves were so strained that, did we but see one of the nativesrunning across the yard, or hear them conversing in louder tones thanusual, we at once thought there must be news, and jumped up from anyoccupation with which we were trying to beguile the time, only to sinkback on our chairs again disappointed. As for knowing what was passingin the world, one might as well have been in another planet. We saw nopapers, and there was not much prospect of obtaining any. Before the warwe had all talked lightly of wires being cut and railway-lines pulledup, but, in truth, I do not think anyone realized what these twocalamities really meant. My only comfort was the reflection that, nomatter how hard they were fighting in Mafeking, they could not besuffering the terrible boredom that we were enduring. To such an extentin this monotony did I lose the count of time, that I had to look in thealmanack to be able to say, in Biblical language, "The evening and themorning were the sixth day. "

At length one evening, when we were sitting on the stoep after supper, we descried a rider approaching on a very tired horse. Rushing to thegate, we were handed letters from Mafeking. It can be imagined how wedevoured them. They told of three determined attacks on the town on thethird day after I had left, all successfully repulsed, and of abombardment on the following Monday. The latter had been somewhat of afarce, and had done no damage, except to one or two buildings which, byan irony of fate, included the Dutch church and hotel and the convent. The shells were of such poor quality that they were incapable of anyexplosive force whatever. [26] After nine hours' bombardment, althoughsome narrow escapes were recorded, the only casualties were one chickenkilled and one dog wounded. An emissary from Commandant Snyman had thencome solemnly into the town under a flag of truce, to demand anunconditional surrender "to avoid further bloodshed. " ColonelBaden-Powell politely replied that, as far as he was concerned, operations had not begun. The messenger was given refreshment at Dixon'sHotel, where lunch was laid out as usual. This had astonished himconsiderably, as presumably he had expected to find but few survivors. He was then sent about his business. Gordon, who imagined me atSetlagoli, concluded his letter by saying the Colonel had informedGeneral Cronje of my presence at Mrs. Fraser's, and begged him to leaveme unmolested. This news, which had come by a _Daily Mail_correspondent, on his way South to send off cables, was satisfactory asfar as it went, and we at once despatched a trusty old nigger calledBoaz with a tiny note, folded microscopically in an old cartridge-case, to give the garrison news of the surrounding country. This old manproved a reliable and successful messenger. On many occasions hepenetrated the cordon into the beleaguered town, and during the firsttwo months he was practically the sole means they had of receivingnews. His task was of course a risky one, and we used to pay him £3 eachway, but he never failed us. 

Now commenced a fresh period of anxious waiting, and during this time Ihad leisure and opportunity to study the characteristics of these Boerfarmers and their wives, and to learn what a curious race they are. Mrs. Keeley told me a great deal of their ideas, habits, and ways, in whichlow cunning is combined with extreme curiosity and naïve simplicity. Many of the fathers and sons in the neighbourhood had slunk off to fightacross the border, sending meanwhile their wives and daughters to callon Mrs. Keeley and condole with her in what they termed "her trouble, "and to ascertain at the same time all the circumstances of the farm anddomestic circle. A curious thing happened one day. Directly afterbreakfast an old shandrydan drove up with a typical Dutch family asoccupants. Mrs. Keeley, busy with household matters, pulled a long face, knowing what was before her. No questions as to being at home, disengaged, or follies of that sort, were asked; the horses weresolemnly outspanned and allowed to roam; the family party had come tospend the day. Seated gravely in the dining-room, they were refreshed bycoffee and cold meat. Mrs. Keeley remarked to me privately that the bestthing to do was to put quantities of food before them and then leavethem; and, beyond a few passing words as she went in and out of theroom, I did not make out that they went in for entertaining each other. So they sat for hours, saying nothing, doing nothing. When Mrs. Keeleywanted me to have lunch, she asked them to remove to the stoep, and inthis request they seemed to find nothing strange. Finally, about fiveo'clock they went away, much to the relief of their hostess; not, however, before the latter had shrewdly guessed the real object of theirvisit, which was to find out about myself. Report had reached them thatMafeking was in the hands of the Dutch, that the only survivor of thegarrison had escaped in woman's clothes, had been wandering on the veldtfor days, and had finally been taken in here. "Ach!" said the old_vrow_, "I would be afraid to meet him. Is he really here?" This remarkshe made to Mrs. Keeley's brother, who could hardly conceal hisamusement, but, to reassure her, displayed the cart and mules by which Ihad come. If in England we had heard of the arrival of a "unicorn" in anaeroplane, we should not have shown more anxiety or taken more troubleto hear about the strange creature than did they concerning myself. Their curiosity did not end here. What was Mr. Keeley doing in Mafeking?Was he fighting for the English? How many head of cattle had they onthe farm? And so on _ad libitum_. Mrs. Keeley, however, knew her friendswell, and was quite capable of dealing with them, so they probably spentan unprofitable day. 

On another occasion an English farmer named Leipner looked in, and gaveus some information about Vryburg. This town was absolutely undefended, and was occupied by the Boers without a shot being fired. The ceremonyof the hoisting of the _Vierkleur_[27] had been attended by the wholecountryside, and had taken place with much psalm-singing and praying, interlarded with bragging and boasting. He told me also that some of therumours current in the town, and firmly credited, reported that Oom Paulhad annexed Bechuanaland, that he was then about to take Cape Colony, after which he would allow no troops to land, and the "Roineks" wouldhave been pushed into the sea. His next step would be to take England. Mr. Leipner assured me the more ignorant Boers had not an idea whereEngland was situated, nor did they know that a great ocean rolledbetween it and this continent. In fact, they gloried in their want ofknowledge, and were insulted if they received a letter in any tongue buttheir own. He related one tale to illustrate their ignorance: An oldburgher and his _vrow_ were sitting at home one Sunday afternoon. Seeing the "predicant"[28] coming, the old man hastily opened his Bibleand began to read at random. The clergyman came in, and, looking overhis shoulder, said: "Ah! I see you are reading in the Holy Book--thedeath of Christ. " "Alle machter!" said the old lady. "Is He dead indeed?You see, Jan" (to her husband) "you never will buy a newspaper, so wenever know what goes on in the world. " Mr. Leipner said this story losesin being told in English instead of in the original Dutch. He reiteratedthey did not wish for education for themselves or for their children. Ifthe young people can read and write, they are considered very goodscholars. This gentleman also expressed great satisfaction at Sir AlfredMilner and Mr. Chamberlain being at the head of affairs, which he saidwas the only thing that gave the colonials confidence. Even now, so manyfeared England would give way again in the end. I assured him of thisthere was no possibility, and then he said: "The Transvaal has been abad place for Englishmen to live these many years; but if Great Britainfails us again, we must be off, for then it will be impossible. " I wasgiven to understand that the Boers exhibited great curiosity as to whoMr. Chamberlain was, and that they firmly believed he had made money inRand mining shares and gold companies; others fancied he was identicalwith the maker of Chamberlain's Cough Syrup, which is advertisedeverywhere in the colony. 

Early in November we had a great surprise. Mr. Keeley himself turned upfrom Mafeking, having been given leave from the town guard to look afterhis wife and farm. He had to ride for his life to escape the Boers, whowere drawing much closer to the town, and the news he brought was notaltogether reassuring. True, he stated that the garrison were insplendid spirits, and that they no longer troubled themselves about thedaily bombardments, as dug-out shelters had been constructed. The youngmen, he said, vied with each other in begging for permission to joinscouting-parties at night, to pepper the Boers, often, as a result, having a brush with the enemy and several casualties. All the same, theywould return at a gallop, laughing and joking. There had been, however, several very severe fights, notably one on Canon Kopje, where two veryable officers and many men had been killed. In such a small garrisonthis loss was a serious one, and the death-roll was growing apace, for, besides the frequent attacks, the rifle fire in the streets was becomingvery unpleasant. Intelligence was also to hand of the Boers bringing upone of the Pretoria siege guns, capable of firing a 94-pound shell. Thiswas to be dragged across the Transvaal at a snail's pace by a team oftwenty oxen, so secure were they against any interruption from theSouth. Against these depressing items, he gave intelligence of anincident that had greatly alarmed the Boers. It seemed that, to get ridof two trucks of dynamite standing in the railway-station, which wereconsidered a danger, the same had been sent off to a siding some eightmiles north. The engine-driver unhitched them and made good his escape. The Boers, thinking the trucks full of soldiers, immediately commencedbombarding them, till they exploded with terrific force. This chanceaffair gave the Boers the idea that Mafeking was full of dynamite, andlater, when I was in the laager, they told me one of the reasons whythey had never pressed an attack home was that they knew the whole townwas mined. Mr. Keeley also told us of a tragedy that had greatlydisturbed the little circle of defenders. The very evening that thevictims of the Canon Kopje fight were laid to rest, LieutenantMurchison, [29] of the Protectorate Regiment, had, in consequence of adispute, shot dead with his revolver at Dixon's Hotel thewar-correspondent of the London _Daily Chronicle_, a Mr. Parslow. Iafterwards learnt that the court-martial which sat on the former hadfourteen sessions in consequence of its only being able to deliberatefor half an hour at a time in the evening, when the firing waspractically over. The prisoner was ably defended by a Dutch lawyer namedDe Koch, and, owing to his having done good service during the siege, was strongly recommended to mercy, although sentenced to be shot. Themost satisfactory points we gleaned were the splendid behaviour of thetownspeople, and the fine stand made by the natives when the Boersattacked their stadt, adjacent to the town. The number of Boerfield-guns Mr. Keeley stated to be nine, of the newest type, besides themonster expected from Pretoria. He also said more expert gunners andbetter ammunition had arrived. As to his own position, Mr. Keeley was byno means sure that either his life or his property were safe, but herelied on his influence with his neighbours, which was considerable, andhe thought he would be able to keep them quiet and on their farms. 

One night, just as my maid was going to bed, she suddenly saw, in thebright moonlight, a tall figure step out of the shadow of the fir-trees. For an instant a marauding Boer--a daily bugbear for weeks--flashedacross her mind, but the next moment she recognized Sergeant Matthewsfrom Setlagoli. He had ridden over post-haste to tell us the Boers wereswarming there, and that he and his men had evacuated the barracks. Healso warned us the same commando was coming here on the morrow, andadvised that all the cattle on the farm should be driven to a place ofsafety. This information did not conduce to a peaceful night, but, anyway, it gave one something to think of besides Mafeking. I buried asmall jewel-case and my despatch-box in the garden, and then we wentcalmly to bed to await these unwelcome visitors. Mr. Keeley hadfortunately left the day before on a business visit to a neighbouringfarmer, for his presence would rather have contributed to our dangerthan to our safety. When we awoke all was peaceful, and there was everyindication of a piping hot day. Mrs. Keeley was very calm and sensible, and did not anticipate any rudeness. We decided to receive the burgherscivilly and offer them coffee, trusting that the exodus of all thecattle would not rouse their ire. Our elaborate preparations werewasted, for the Boers did not come. The weary hours dragged on, the suncrawled across the steely blue heavens, and finally sank, almostgrudgingly, it seemed, into the west, leaving the coast clear for theglorious full moon; the stars came out one by one; the goats and kidscame wandering back to the homestead with loud bleatings; and presentlyeverything seemed to sleep--everything except our strained nerves andaching eyes, which had looked all day for Boers, and above all for news, and had looked in vain. 

We still continued to have alarms. One day we saw a horseman wrapped ina long cloak up to his chin, surmounted by a huge slouch hat, ride intothe yard. Mrs. Keeley exclaimed it was certainly a Boer, and that he hadno doubt come to arrest Mr. Keeley. I was positive the unknown was anEnglishman, but she was so shrewd that I really believed her, and keptout of sight as she directed, while she sent her brother to questionhim. It turned out that the rider was the same _Daily Mail_correspondent who had cut his way out of Mafeking in order to send hiscables, and that he was now on his way back to the besieged town. Thegrowth of a two weeks' beard had given him such an unkempt appearance asto make even sharp Mrs. Keeley mistake him for a Boer. He had had aninteresting if risky ride, which he appeared to have accomplished withenergy and dash, if perhaps with some imprudence. [30]

It was the continued dearth of news, not only concerning Mafeking, butalso of what was going on in the rest of South Africa, that made me atlength endeavour to get news from Vryburg. As a first step I lent Dop toa young Dutchman named Brevel, who was anxious to go to that township tosell some fat cattle. This youth, who belonged to a respectable Boerfamily--of course heart and soul against the English--was overwhelmedwith gratitude for the loan of the horse, and in consequence I stoodhigh in their good graces. They little knew it was for my sake, nottheirs, that they had my pony. By this messenger we sent letters for theEnglish mail, and a note to the magistrate, begging him to forward usnewspapers and any reliable intelligence. I also enclosed a cheque to becashed, for I was running short of English gold wherewith to pay ournigger letter-carriers. I must confess I hardly expected to find anyoneconfiding enough to part with bullion, but Mr. Brevel duly returned in afew days with the money, and said they were very pleased to get rid ofgold in exchange for a cheque on a London bank. 

He also, however, brought back our letters, which had been refused atthe post-office, as they would take no letters except with Transvaalstamps, and for ours, of course, we had used those of Cape Colony. 

The magistrate wrote me a miserable letter, saying his office had beenseized by the Boers, who held a daily Kriegsraad there, and that he hadreceived a safe-conduct to depart. The striking part of thecommunication was that a line had been put through "On H. M. Service" onthe top of the official envelope. I was really glad to find the youngman had done no good with his own business, having failed to dispose ofany of his cattle. He, a Dutchman, had returned with the feeling that noproperty was safe for the moment, and much alarmed by the irresponsibletalk of those burghers who had nothing to lose and everything to gain bythis period of confusion and upheaval. He also greatly disturbed Mr. Keeley by saying they meant to wreak vengeance on any who had fought forthe English, and by warning him that a commando would surely pass hisway. Further news which this young man proceeded to relate in his awfuljargon was that Oom Paul and all his grandchildren and nephews had goneto Bulawayo; from there he meant to commence a triumphal marchsouthward; that Kimberley had capitulated; and that Joubert and his armyhad taken possession of Ladysmith. To all this Mrs. Keeley had to listenwith polite attention. Luckily, I did not understand the import of whathe said till he had taken himself off, with an unusually deep bow ofthanks to myself. The only comfort we derived was the reflection thatthese lies were too audacious to be aught but inventions made up toclinch the wavering and timid spirits. 

No matter how miserable people in England were then, they will neverrealize fully what it meant to pass those black months in the midst of aDutch population; one felt oneself indeed alone amongst foes. Smartingunder irritation and annoyance, I decided to go myself to Vryburg--Dutchtown though it had become--and see if I could not ascertain the truth ofthese various reports, which I feared might filter into Mafeking anddepress the garrison. Mr. Keeley did not disapprove of my trip, as hewas as anxious as myself to know how the land lay, and he arranged thatMrs. Keeley's brother, Mr. Coleman, should drive me there in a trap andpair of ponies. For the benefit of the gossips, I stated as anostensible reason for my visit that I had toothache. I was much excitedat the prospect of visiting the Boer headquarters in that part of thecountry, and seeing with my own eyes the Transvaal flag flying in thetown of a British colony. Therefore I thought nothing of undertaking asixty miles' drive in broiling heat and along a villainous road. Thedrive itself was utterly uneventful. We passed several Dutch farmhouses, many of them untenanted, owing to the so-called loyal colonial ownershaving flocked to the Transvaal flag at Vryburg. All these houses, distinguished by their slovenly and miserable appearance, were built ofrough brick or mud, with tiny windows apparently added as anafterthought, in any position, regardless of symmetry. Towards sundownwe arrived at a roadside store, where we were kindly entertained for thenight by the proprietors, a respectable Jewish couple. 

About five miles from Vryburg a party of thirty horsemen appeared on thebrow of the hill; these were the first Boers I had seen mounted, infighting array, and I made sure they would ride up and ask our business;but apparently we were not interesting enough in appearance, for theycircled away in another direction. The road now descended into a sort ofbasin or hollow, wherein lay the snug little town of Vryburg, with itsneat houses and waving trees, and beyond it we could see the white tentsof the Boer laager. A young Dutchman had recently described Vryburg tome as a town which looked as if it had gone for a walk and got lost, andas we drove up to it I remembered his words, and saw that his simile wasrather an apt one. There seemed no reason, beyond its site in asheltered basin, why Vryburg should have been chosen for the capital ofBritish Bechuanaland. The railway was at least a mile away on the east, and so hidden was the town that, till you were close on it, you couldbarely see the roofs of the houses. Then suddenly the carriage droveinto the main street, which boasted of some quite respectable shops. Thefirst thing that attracted our notice was the Court House, almost hiddenin trees, through which glimmered the folds of the gaudy Dutch standard. Before the court were armed Boers, apparently sentries, whilst otherswere passing in and out or lounging outside. Another group were busyporing over a notice affixed on a tree, which we were told was thelatest war news:

 WAR NEWS

 LATEST REPORTS

 _Price 3d. _

 VRYBURG, OCT. 31, 1899

 MAFEKING SPEECHLESS WITH TERROR

 KIMBERLEY TREMBLES

 40 ENGLISH SOLDIERS DESERT TO JOIN OUR RANKS

 It appears by telegram received this morning that the Burghers started firing on Mafeking with the big cannon. The town is on fire and is full of smoke. 

 The British troops in Natal met the Burghers at Elandslaagte. The battle-field was kept by the Burghers under General Prinsloo. Two were killed, four wounded. 

We drove down the street, and pulled up at the Central Hotel, where Igot capital rooms and was most civilly received by the manager, anEnglishman. The latter, however, could hardly conceal his surprise at myvisit at this moment. He at once advised me not to mention my name, orshow myself too much, as that very day a new Landrost had arrived totake charge of the town, and strict regulations respecting the comingand going of the inhabitants and visitors were being made. He then gaveme some splendid news of the Natal border, the first intelligence of thevictories of Dundee, Elandslaagte, and Glencoe. To hear of those alonewas worth the long drive, and he also showed me the Dutch reports ofthese same engagements, which really made one smile. On every occasionvictory had remained with the burghers, while the English dead andprisoners varied in numbers from 500 to 1, 300, according to the mood ofthe composer of the despatch. The greatest losses the burghers hadsustained up to then in any one engagement were two killed and threewounded. The spoils of war taken by the Dutch were of extraordinaryvalue, and apparently they had but to show themselves for every camp tobe evacuated. They were kind enough to translate these wonderfuldespatches into a sort of primitive English, of which printed slipscould be bought for threepence. The hotel manager said if they did notinvent these lies and cook the real account the burghers would desert_en masse_. So afraid were their leaders of news filtering in fromEnglish sources that all messengers were closely watched and searched. In the afternoon I drove up to the little hospital to see three of theoccupants of the ill-fated armoured train. They were all convalescent, and said they were being very kindly treated in every way, but that theBoer doctoring was of the roughest description, the surgeon's onlyassistant being a chemist-boy, and trained nurses were replaced by a fewwell-meaning but clumsy Dutch girls, while chloroform or sedatives werequite unknown. 

It was grievous to hear of all the Government military provisions, police and private properties, being carted off by the "powers that be, "and not a little annoying for the inhabitants to have to put all theirstores at the disposal of the burghers, who had been literally clothedfrom head to foot since their arrival. The owners only received a"brief" or note of credit on the Transvaal Government at Pretoria, to bepaid after the war. For fear of exciting curiosity, I did not walk aboutmuch, but observed from the windows of my sitting-room the mountedburghers patrolling the town, sometimes at a foot's pace, more often ata smart canter. I felt I never wished to see another Boer. I admitted tomyself they sat their horses well and that their rifle seemed a familiarfriend, but when you have seen one you have seen them all. I never couldhave imagined so many men absolutely alike: all had long stragglingbeards, old felt hats, shabby clothes, and some evil-lookingcountenances. Most of those I saw were men of from forty to fifty yearsof age, but there were also a few sickly-looking youths, who certainlydid not look bold warriors. These had not arrived at the dignity of abeard, but, instead, cultivated feeble whiskers. 

After I had seen and heard all I could, came the question of gettingaway. The manager told me the Landrost had now forbidden any of theresidents to leave the town, and that he did not think I could get apass. However, my Dutch friend was equal to the occasion; he applied forleave to return to his farm with his sister, having only come in forprovisions. After a long hesitation it was given him, and we decided toset out at daybreak, fearful lest the permission might be retracted, asit certainly would have been had my identity and his deception beendiscovered, and we should both have been ignominiously lodged in a Boergaol. As the sun was rising we left Vryburg. On the outskirts of thetown we were made to halt by eight or ten Boers whose duty it was toexamine the passes of travellers. It can be imagined how my heart beatas I was made to descend from the cart. I was wearing a shabby oldulster which had been lent me at the hotel for this purpose; round abattered sailor hat I had wound a woollen shawl, which with the help ofa veil almost completely concealed my identity. It had been arrangedthat Mr. Coleman should tell them I was suffering from toothache andswollen face. The ordeal of questioning my supposed brother andexamining our passports took some minutes--the longest I have everexperienced. He contrived to satisfy these inquisitors, and with afeeling of relief we bundled into the cart again and started on our longdrive to Mosita. On that occasion we accomplished the sixty miles in oneday, so afraid were we of being pursued. 

On my return to Mosita I at once despatched old Boaz to Mafeking, givingthem the intelligence of the victories in Natal. This proved to be thefirst news that reached them from the more important theatre of the war. Our life now became uneventful once more. One day an old Irish lady, wife of a neighbouring farmer, dropped in for a chat. She was a nice oldwoman, as true as steel, and terribly worried by these dreadful times. She had a married daughter in the Transvaal, and a brother also, whosesons, as well as daughters' husbands, would, she sorely feared, becommandeered to fight, in which case they might unknowingly be shootingtheir own relations over the border. It was the same tale of misery, anxiety, and wretchedness, everywhere, and the war was but a few weeksold. The population in that colony, whether Dutch or English, were soclosely mixed together--their real interests so parallel--that itresolved itself locally into a veritable civil war. It was all the moredreadful that these poor farmers, after having lost all their cattle byrinderpest, had just succeeded in getting together fresh herds, and werehoping for renewed prosperity. Then came the almost certain chance oftheir beasts being raided, of their stores being looted, and of theirwomen and children having to seek shelter to avoid rough treatment andincivility. Often during the long evenings, especially when I wassuffering from depression of spirits, I used to argue with Mr. Keeleyabout the war and whether it was necessary. It seemed to me then we werenot justified in letting loose such a millstream of wretchedness and ofdestruction, and that the alleged wrongs of a large whitepopulation--who, in spite of everything, seemed to prosper and grow richapace--scarcely justified the sufferings of thousands of innocentindividuals. Mr. Keeley was a typical old colonist, one who knew theBoers and their character well, and I merely quote what he said, as nodoubt it was, and is, the opinion of many other such men. He opined thatthis struggle was bound to come, declaring that all the thinking men ofthe country had foreseen it. The intolerance of the Boers, theirarrogance, their ignorance, on which they prided themselves, allproclaimed them as unfit to rule over white or black people. Of lateyears had crept in an element of treachery and disloyalty, emanatingfrom their jealousy of the English, which by degrees was bound topermeate the whole country, spreading southward to Cape Colony itself, till the idea of "Africa for the Dutch, and the English in the sea, "would have been a war-cry that might have dazzled hundreds of to-day'sso-called loyal colonists. He even asserted that those at the head ofaffairs in England had shown great perspicacity and a clear insight intothe future. If at the Bloemfontein Conference, or after, Kruger hadgiven the five years' franchise, and the dispute had been patched up forthe moment, it would have been the greatest misfortune that could havehappened. The intriguing in the colony, the reckless expenditure of theTransvaal Secret Service money, the bribery and corruption of the mostcorrupt Government of modern times, would have gone on as before, andthings would soon have been as bad as ever. Mr. Keeley was positive thatit was jealousy that had engendered this race hatred one heard so muchabout; even the well-to-do Dutch knew the English were superior to themin knowledge and enterprise. At the same time any English invention waslooked upon with awe and interest; they were wont to copy us in manyrespects, and if a Dutch girl had the chance of marrying an Englishman, old or young, poor or rich, she did not wait to be asked a second time. There is no doubt the women were a powerful factor in Boerland. Even aBritisher married to a Dutchwoman seemed at once to consider her peopleas his people, and the Transvaal as his fatherland. These women werecertainly the most bitter against the English; they urged their husbandsin the district to go and join the commandoes, and their language wascruel and bloodthirsty. 

 * * * * *

Towards the middle of November I decided that I could not remain in mypresent quarters much longer. My presence was attracting unwelcomeattention to my kind host and hostess, albeit they would not admit it. From the report that I was a man dressed as a woman, the rumour had nowchanged to the effect that I was a granddaughter of Queen Victoria, sent specially out by Her Majesty to inform her of the proceedings ofher rebellious subjects. Another person had heard I was the wife of theGeneral who was giving the Boers so much trouble at Mafeking. Idetermined, therefore, to return to Mrs. Fraser's hotel, which wasalways a stage nearer Mafeking, whither I was anxious to returneventually. As a matter of fact, there was no alternative resting-place. It was impossible to pass south to Kimberley, to the west lay theKalahari Desert, and to the east the Transvaal. With many gratefulthanks to the Keeleys, I rode off one morning, with Vellum inattendance, to Setlagoli, which I had left a month before. We thought itprudent to make sure there were no Boers about before bringing theGovernment mules and cart. Therefore I arranged for my maid to follow inthis vehicle if she heard nothing to the contrary within twenty-fourhours. Mrs. Fraser was delighted to see me, and reported the Boers alldeparted after a temporary occupation, so there I settled down foranother period of weary waiting. 

FOOTNOTES:

[26] The Boers used better ammunition later. 

[27] Boer national flag. 

[28] Clergyman. 

[29] Mr. Murchison was shut up in the gaol awaiting Lord Roberts'sconfirmation of his sentence. When Eloff succeeded in entering Mafekingmany months later, the former was liberated with the other prisoners, and given a rifle to fire on the Boers, which he did with much effect. Ibelieve he was afterwards taken to a gaol in the Isle of Wight, but I donot know if his life-sentence is still in force. 

[30] This gentleman on a later occasion again attempted to leaveMafeking on horseback, and was taken prisoner by the Boers and sent toPretoria, leaving the _Daily Mail_ without a correspondent in Mafeking. At the request of that paper I then undertook to send them cables aboutthe siege. 

CHAPTER VIII

 BETRAYED BY A PIGEON--THE BOERS COME AT LAST

 "For a bird of the air shall carry the voice, and that which has wings shall tell the matter. "--ECCLES. X. 20. 

The day after my arrival at Setlagoli some natives came in withapparently well-authenticated news of an English victory near Vryburg. They also asserted that the line was already being relaid to Maribogo, and that the railway servants had returned to that station. I drove overat once to prove the truth of their statements; of course, I found theywere all false, except the fact of the station-master having returned tothe barricaded and desolate station. I discovered him sittingdisconsolately at the door of his ruined house, gloomily perusing"Nicholas Nickleby. " On returning home, I was delighted to findinteresting letters from Mr. And Mrs. Rochfort Maguire, who were shut upin Kimberley, as was also Mr. Rhodes. The latter had despatched them bya boy, ordered to continue his journey to Mafeking with other missivesand also with some colonial newspapers. These latter, only about afortnight old, we fairly spelled through before sending them on. Theywere already so mutilated by constant unfolding that in parts they werescarcely decipherable, but none the less very precious. Two days laterarrived a representative of Reuter's Agency, whom I shall call Mr. P. Hehad come by rail and horseback straight from Cape Town and he was alsounder orders to proceed to Mafeking; but his horses were so done up thathe decided to give them a few days' rest. I took advantage of his escortto carry out a long-cherished desire to see the wreck of the armouredtrain at Kraipann. Accompanied by a boy to show us the way, we startedafter an early lunch. As it was a Sunday, there was not much fear of ourmeeting any Boers, as the latter were always engaged that day inpsalm-singing and devotions. We cantered gaily along, passing manyKaffir huts, outside of which were grouped wondering natives, in theirSunday best. These kept up a lively conversation with our guide as longas we remained within earshot. I was always impressed with thefreemasonry that existed in that country among the blacks. Everywherethey found acquaintances, and very often relations. They used to tell methat such and such a man was their wife's cousin or their aunt'sbrother. Moreover, as long as you were accompanied by a native, youwere always sure of certain information concerning the whereabouts ofthe Boers; but to these latter they would lie with stupid, solemn faces. When we neared Kraipann, we came to a region of rocks and kopjes, trulya God-forsaken country. Leaving our horses in the native stadt, weproceeded on foot to the scene of the disaster. There was not much tosee, after all--merely a pilot armoured engine, firmly embedded itswhole length in the gravel. Next to this, an ordinary locomotive, stillon the rails, riddled on one side with bullets, and on the otherdisplaying a gaping aperture into the boiler, which told its own tale. Then came an armoured truck--H. M. 's _Mosquito_--that I had seen leavingMafeking so trim and smart, but now battered with shot; and lastlyanother truck, which had been carrying the guns. This had been pushedback into a culvert, and presented a dilapidated appearance, with itsfront wheels in the air. The whole spectacle was forlorn and eerie. Allthe time I gave cursory glances right and left, to make sure no Boerswere prowling about, and I should not have been surprised to have seenan unkempt head bob up and ask us our business. But all remained assilent as the grave. Swarms of locusts were alone in possession, andunder the engine and carriages the earth was a dark brown moving mass, with the stream of these jumping, creeping things. I had soon gratifiedmy curiosity, and persuaded my companion, who was busy photographing, also to leave this desolate spot. 

The Boers continued to ride roughshod over the land, commandeering oxenand cattle, putting up to public auction such Government properties asthey had seized at the different railway-stations, and employinghundreds of Kaffirs to tear up the railway-line. Our enemies wereperfectly secure in the knowledge that no help could come for months, and the greater number believed it would never come at all, and that the"Roineks" were being cut to pieces in the South. They openly statedthere would be no more railway traffic, but that in future trade andtransit would be carried on by transport riding--_i. E. _, by ox-waggon, their favourite amusement and occupation. In the meantime the cry of theloyal colonists went up from all sides: "How much longer can it last?"

After a few days Mr. P. Duly returned from Mafeking, having had a riskybut successful trip in and out of the town. He reported it all well, andthat the inhabitants were leading a mole existence, owing to theconstant shelling. The Boers evidently preferred dropping in shells at asafe distance to risking their lives by a storming attack. With greatpride Mr. P. Showed me a basket of carrier pigeons, by which he assuredme I could now communicate swiftly and safely with the garrison. He waseven kind enough to send off one at once on a trial trip, with a shortnote signed with his name, informing Colonel Baden-Powell that I was atSetlagoli, and that I would be able to forward any letters orinformation they might wish to send. I had never had any experience ofsuch birds, and was delighted to think how much quicker they wouldtravel than old Boaz. When the pigeon was released, however, I mustconfess it was rather disturbing to note that it did not seem at allsure of the direction it should take, circling round at least twentytimes in the air. However, Mr. P. Assured me this was their usual habit, and that this particular bird knew its business, having taken severalprizes; so, as it eventually disappeared, I thought no more about it. The next day Mr. P. Left for Cape Town, and passed out of our ken, butwe were soon to be reminded of him in an unpleasant fashion. 

On going into the dining-room to lunch one day, I saw little Mr. ----, akinsman of Mrs. Fraser's, and particularly short of stature, with an axein hand, in the act of taking up the boards in a corner of the room, revealing as he did so a sort of shallow cellar, with no light orventilation. Watching the operation was another man, an Englishman, thedispossessed manager of a local store, who had sought a temporarylodging at the hotel, and was a big, strong individual, over 6 feet inheight. I inquired in amazement, of this strangely assorted pair, whatthey were trying to do. "We are going to hide, Lady Sarah, " chirped theformer. "The Boers are on the premises. " So saying, he was about todescend into the cavity, and evidently expected the companionship of histall friend. When I pointed out to them that they would probablysuffocate in this modern Black Hole of Calcutta, the little manproceeded to dance round the room, still shouldering his axe, jibberingthe while: "I will not go to fight; I am an American. I will not be putin the front rank to be shot by the English, or made to dig trenches. "The whole scene was so comic that I sat down and laughed, and the climaxwas reached when the cock-sparrow, who had always talked so big of whathe was going to do and to say to the Boers, crawled under the old grandpiano in the farther corner of the big room. I was forced to tell himthat no American or Englishman could be found in such an ignominiousposition, should the house be searched, and I even assured the littlegentleman that I did not think it was the least likely his serviceswould be wanted. The other man, whose position was more risky, I advisedto lie down on the sofa and feign illness; and I really believe anxietyand worry had so preyed on him that he was as ill as he looked. Whencalm had been restored, I sat down to lunch, Mrs. Fraser coming in atintervals to report what our visitors were doing at the store. They haddemanded coffee and many tins of salmon and sardines. Of thesedelicacies they seemed particularly fond, eating the latter with theirfingers, after which they drank the oil, mixed for choice with goldensyrup. After their repast they fitted themselves out in clothes andluxuries, such as silver watches and chains, white silkpocket-handkerchiefs, cigarettes, saddles, and even harness, takingaltogether goods to the amount of about £50. This amusement finished, they proceeded to practise shooting, setting up bottles at a distance ofabout 50 yards. We followed all their doings from behind the greenVenetian blinds, kept down on account of the heat. Up to this time noneof them had come up to the house, for which we had reason to begrateful, as the "dop" they had found, and quickly finished, wasbeginning to affect their demeanour and spirits, particularly of the onenamed Dietrich, who appeared to be the boss of the party. At last theimmediate reason for their visit filtered out. This slightly intoxicatedgentleman inquired of Mr. Fraser where they could find a man named Mr. P. And the English lady of whom he had written. The old gentleman, whocould be more than common deaf when he chose, affected utter vacancy atthe mention of these individuals, merely stating that he knew a man ofthe name of P. Fifteen years ago. Then the whole story was told. Theyhad captured our pigeon, with its tell-tale note. This confiding birdhad flown straight to the laager, had perched on the General's house, where it had been shot by this same Dietrich, and we owed the presentvisit to the information supplied therein by Mr. P. , Dietrich informingus he attributed this occurrence to the Almighty working for the Boers. They stated they were now awaiting the arrival of the _Veldtcornet_ andof Mr. Lamb, a neighbouring farmer, whom they had sent for, and theyproceeded to make their preparations to spend the night. After supper wewere relieved to hear Mr. Lamb's cheerful voice, as he rode up in thedark with the jovial Dietrich, who had ridden out to meet him, and who, it appeared, was an old friend of his. I must say the pleasure ofmeeting was more on the Dutchman's side than on the Englishman's. Bythis time the former was quite intoxicated, and Mr. Lamb cleverlymanaged to get him to his room, and after having, as he thought, disposed of him, he came and joined us on the stoep. There we freelydiscussed our visitors, and were having a cheery conversation, when Isuddenly looked up, and round the corner of the verandah saw theunsteady form of a typical Boer--slouch hat, bandolier, and rifle, complete--staggering towards us, truly a weird apparition. The risingmoon shining on the rifle-barrel made it glitter like silver. I confessI disappeared round the corner to my room with more haste than dignity. To Boers by daytime, when sober, I had by now become accustomed, but atnight, after liberal doses of "dop, " armed with a loaded rifle, Ipreferred their room to their company. Luckily, Mr. Lamb was equal tothe occasion, and persuaded Dietrich to return to his quarters, in spiteof his assurance that he (Dietrich) "was the man who watched, and whodid not sleep. " With the morning arrived nine or ten more, including thenewly-appointed _Veldtcornet_, by name De Koker, who had been latelyconvicted of sheep-stealing. After a long idle morning and morerefreshments, they all adjourned to the living-room, where, with muchdifficulty, one of them stumbled through the reading of a printedproclamation, which enacted that "This country now being part of theTransvaal, the residents must within seven days leave their homes orenrol themselves as burghers. " Nothing was mentioned about fighting, soall there complied with what was required--namely, to sign their nameson a blank sheet of paper. By evening all had left for Mosita, as Mr. P. Had also mentioned Mr. Keeley's name in his unlucky note. Three, however, remained to keep a watch on myself, and one of these, Iregretted to observe, was the jovially-inclined Dietrich. It can beimagined that our irritation with Mr. P. Was great for having sofoolishly mentioned names and places, and still more with the idioticbird, the real origin of a very unpleasant two days. I reflected that, if these were the tricks carrier-pigeons were wont to play, I greatlypreferred the old nigger as a letter-carrier in wartime. 

We were not to wait long for more developments. Next day at dusk arriveda large cavalcade, which included Mr. Keeley, a prisoner. He went onwith his escort at daybreak, leaving us full of sympathy for his poorwife. I sent by his bodyguard, under the command of another Dietrich, brother to the drunkard, who seemed a decent sort of man, a letter toGeneral Snyman, begging for a pass into Mafeking to rejoin my husband. Mr. Keeley told me their Intelligence Department was very perfect, asthey had been aware of every one of my movements since I left Mafeking, and even of my rides during the last fortnight. He also told me GeneralCronje and a great number of Boers had left Mafeking and trekked South. This encouraged me in my belief that it would be better for me to be inthat beleaguered town than to submit to the possible insults of Boersentinels at Setlagoli. 

The next day was Sunday, and in the morning returned the energeticVeldtcornet De Koker. He had heard of my letter to Snyman, and, wishingto be important, had come to offer me a pass to the laager for apersonal interview with the General, assuring me the latter was alwaysvery polite to ladies. He even wished to escort me there that very day. However, I had no mind to act hastily, so I made an excuse of the mulesbeing away--also that I did not like to travel on a Sunday. This latterreason he fully appreciated, and arranged with me to come to his housethe following day, for which purpose he left me a permit, vilelyscrawled in Dutch. I mentally reserved to myself the decision as tokeeping the rendezvous. We sat down to breakfast together, although, ashe could speak no English and I could speak no Dutch, the conversationwas nil. He was pleased with the cigarette I offered him, and observedme with some curiosity, probably never having seen anything approachingan English lady previously. Before he left, I complained, through aninterpreter, of the insobriety of my self-constituted sentinel Dietrich, remarking it was quite impossible I could stand such a man dogging myfootsteps much longer. He promised to report the matter, and insisted onshaking hands with great cordiality. 

It was fortunate I had not accompanied De Koker, for that very eveningback came Mr. Keeley, who had luckily succeeded in satisfying thesuspicions of General Snyman, and who had received a permit to reside onhis farm during the war. He brought me a letter in Dutch from the sameauthority, refusing, "owing to the disturbed state of the country, " togive me a pass to Mafeking, and requesting me to remain where I was, under the "surveillance of his burghers. " It was exactly thesurveillance of one of his said burghers I wished to avoid; but thereseemed no possibility of getting rid of Dietrich, who evidentlypreferred his comfortable quarters at the hotel to roughing it in thelaager. I was exceedingly disappointed, and also somewhat indignant withMr. Keeley, who firmly believed, and was much cast down by, sometelegrams he had read out in the laager, relating the utter defeat of15, 000 English at the Modder River;[31] 1, 500 Boers, he stated, hadsurrounded this force, of which they had killed 2, 000. I stoutly refusedto credit it till I had seen it in an English despatch. But all this wasenough to subdue the bravest spirit; we had received practically nothingbut Dutch information during the last six weeks, telling of theirsuccesses and English disasters; we had seen nobody but our enemies. Even if one did not allow oneself to believe their tales, there wasalways a sort of uncomfortable feeling that these must contain someelement of truth. Fortunately, however, I was reading an account of theFranco-German War in 1870, and there I found that the same system ofinventing successes was carried on by the French press right up to, andeven after, the Emperor's capitulation at Sedan. So it was comforting tothink that, if it had been necessary to keep up the spirits of paid andregular soldiers, it must be a thousand times more essential for theTransvaal authorities to do so, as regards their unpaid mixed army, whohad no encouragement to fight but knowledge of successes and hopes offuture loot. All the same, it was a great trial of patience. 

FOOTNOTES:

[31] This news must have been a garbled account of the fighting withLord Methuen's column. 

CHAPTER IX

 HOW I WAS MADE A PRISONER--IN A BOER LAAGER

 "Ah, there, Piet! be'ind 'is stony kop, With 'is Boer bread an' biltong, an' 'is flask of awful dop; 'Is mauser for amusement an' 'is pony for retreat, I've known a lot o' fellers shoot a dam' sight worse than Piet. "--KIPLING. 

Provisions at Setlagoli and in the surrounding districts were now fastrunning out, and Mrs. Fraser announced to me one morning she had onlyfull allowance of meal for another week. In that colony no meal meant nobread, and it was, in fact, the most important factor in the housewife'smind when thinking of supplies. While on this subject, I must remarkwhat very excellent bread is that made by the Dutch; no matter how pooror dilapidated the farmhouses, large loaves of beautiful, slightlybrowned bread are always in evidence, baked by the mother or daughters. The non-existence of the railway was beginning to cause much distress, Dutch and English suffering alike. In fact, if it had not been for thelocusts, unusually numerous that year, and always a favourite food withthe natives, these latter would also have been starving. As every mouthto feed was a consideration, I determined to see if I could personallyinduce the Boer General to pass me into Mafeking. Under Mrs. Fraser'scharge I left my maid, as I did not wish to expose her to any hardshipsin the laager; and to her I gave the custody of my pony Dop, to whom Ihad become much attached. After detaining me a prisoner, the Boersreturned to Setlagoli specially to secure this animal; they had heardthe natives speak of her in terms of high appreciation, and describe heras "not a horse, but lightning. " Metelka, with much spirit, declared thepony to be her property, having been given her, she said, in lieu ofwages. She further stated she was a German subject, and that if herhorse were not returned in three days she should write to the Kaiser. All this was repeated to General Snyman by the awestruck _Veldtcornet_. After a week spent with the Boers, Dop arrived back at Setlagoli, carefully led, as if she were a sacred beast, and bringing a humbleletter of apology from the Commandant. 

But I am anticipating, and must return to my solitary drive to thelaager, accompanied only by Vellum and another black boy. I took theprecaution of despatching a nigger with a note to Mafeking, tellingColonel Baden-Powell of my plan, and that, having heard a Dutch womancalled Mrs. Delpoort, in Mafeking, wished to join her friends in theTransvaal, I intended asking General Snyman to exchange me for her. Thedistance we had to drive was forty-five miles, along villainous sandyroads and under a burning African sun. We outspanned for the second timeat the house of De Koker, who had been the first to advise me to visitthe laager. His dwelling was situated close to the railway-line, or, rather, to where the railway-line had been. Here there was a great stirand bustle; men were hurrying in and out, nearly all armed; horses weretethered before the door; and, on hearing my cart drive up, the_Veldtcornet_ himself came out to meet me, and gravely invited me todescend. I now saw the interior of a typical Dutch house, with thefamily at home. The _vrow_ came forward with hand outstretched in theawkward Boer fashion. The Dutch do not shake hands; they simply extend awooden member, which you clasp, and the greeting is over. I had to gothrough this performance in perfect silence with about seven or eightchildren of various ages, a grown-up daughter, and eight or ten men, most of whom followed us into the poky little room which appeared toserve as a living-room for the whole family. Although past ten o'clock, the remains of breakfast were still on the table, and were notappetizing to look at. We sat down on chairs placed in a circle, thewhole party commencing to chatter volubly, and scarcely a word beingintelligible to me. Presently the _vrow_ brought me a cup of coffee in acracked cup and saucer. Not wishing to give offence, I tried to swallowit; the coffee was not bad, if one could only have dissociated it fromthat dreadful breakfast-table. I then produced some cigarettes, andoffered them to the male element. They were enchanted, laid aside theirpipes, and conversed with more animation than ever; but it was onlyoccasionally that I caught a word I could understand; the sentence "tweetozen Engelman dood"[32] recurred with distressing frequency, andenabled me to grasp their conversation was entirely about the war. Imeanwhile studied the room and its furniture, which was of the poorestdescription; the chairs mostly lacked legs or backs, and the floor wasof mud, which perhaps was just as well, as they all spat on it in theintervals of talk, and emptied on to it the remains of whatever theywere drinking. After a short time a black girl came in with a basin ofwater, with which she proceeded to plentifully sprinkle the floor, utterly disregarding our dresses and feet. Seeing all the women tucktheir feet under their knees, I followed their example, until thisimprovised water-cart had finished its work. The grown-up daughter had ababy in her arms, as uncared for as the other children, all of whomlooked as if soap and water never came their way. The men were fine, strong-looking individuals, and all were very affable to me, or meant tobe so, if I could but have understood them. Finally four or five morewomen came into this tiny overcrowded room, evidently visitors. This wasthe finishing stroke, and I decided that, rested or not, the mules mustbe inspanned, that I might leave this depressing house. One of the youngburghers brought me the pass to General Snyman, the caligraphy of whichhe was evidently very proud of; and having taken leave of all the ladiesand men in the same peculiar stiff manner as that in which I had greetedthem, I drove off, devoutly thankful to be so far on my journey. Aboutfour in the afternoon we came to a rise, and, looking over it, saw thewhite roofs of Mafeking lying about five miles away in the glaringsunlight. Then we arrived at the spot where General Cronje's laager hadbeen before he trekked South, marked by the grass being worn away fornearly a square mile, by broken-down waggons, and by sundry aas-vogels(the scavengers of South Africa) hovering over carcasses of horses orcattle. Mafeking was now only three miles distant, and, seeing not asolitary soul on the flat grass plains, I felt very much tempted todrive in to the native stadt; but the black boys resolutely declined toattempt it, as they feared being shot, and they assured me that manyBoer sharpshooters lay hidden in the scrub. Thinking discretion thebetter part of valour, I regretfully turned away from Mafeking by theroad leading up an incline to the laager, still several miles distant. The cart was suddenly brought to a standstill by almost driving into aBoer outpost, crouched under a ruined wall, from which point of vantagethey were firing with their rifles at the advance trenches of the town. The officer in charge of this party told me I must stay here tillsundown, when he and his men would accompany me to headquarters, as heaverred the road I was now pursuing was not safe from the Mafekinggun-range. I therefore waited their good pleasure for an hour, duringwhich time the firing from all round the town went on in a desultorysort of way, occasionally followed by a boom from a large Boer gun, andthe short, sharp, hammering noise from the enemy's one-pounder Maxim. The sun was almost down when the burgher in charge gave the signal tobring up their horses, and in a few minutes we were under way. This timeI was attended by a bodyguard of about eighteen or twenty burghers, andwe went along, much to my annoyance, at a funereal pace. On our way wemet the relieving guard coming out to take the place just evacuated bymy escort. When seen riding thus more or less in ranks, a Boer squadron, composed of picked men for outpost duty, presented really a formidableappearance. The men were mostly of middle age, all with the inevitablegrizzly beard, and their rifles, gripped familiarly, were resting on thesaddle-bow; nearly all had two bandoliers apiece, which gave them theappearance of being armed to the teeth--a more determined-looking bandcannot be imagined. The horses of these burghers were well bred and ingood condition, and, although their clothes were threadbare, they seemedcheerful enough, smoking their pipes and cracking their jokes. 

When we at last drew up at headquarters, I was fairly startled to findwhat an excitement my appearance created, about two or three hundredBoers swarming up from all over the laager, and surrounding the cart. The General was then accommodated in a deserted farmhouse, and from thisbuilding at last issued his secretary, a gentleman who spoke Englishperfectly, and to whom I handed my letter requesting an interview. Afteran interminable wait among the gaping crowd, the aforementionedgentleman returned, and informed me I could see the General at once. Heliterally had to make a way for me from the cart to the house, but Imust admit the burghers were very civil, nearly all of them taking offtheir hats as I passed through them. Once inside the house, I foundmyself in a low, dark room, and in the farthest corner, seated on abench, were two old gentlemen, with extra long beards, who wereintroduced to me as General Snyman and Commandant Botha. [33] I was atonce struck by the anything but affable expression of theircountenances. They motioned to me to take a chair; someone handed me abowl with a brown mixture--presumably coffee--which I found veryembarrassing to hold during our conversation. This was carried onthrough the secretary, and the General got more and more out of temperas he discovered what my request was. I informed him I had come at thesuggestion of his _Veldtcornet_; that all my relations were in England, except my husband, who was in Mafeking; that there was no meal in thecolony where I had been living; and that I was prepared to ask ColonelBaden-Powell to exchange me for a Dutch lady whom I heard wished toleave, if he (General Snyman) would accept the exchange. He promptly andwith much decision refused. Then it occurred to me this old gentlemanmeant to keep me as a prisoner of war, and my heart sank into my shoes. The only concession I could obtain was that he would consider my case, and in the meantime he ordered that I should be accommodated in thefield hospital. Accompanied by the secretary, and leaving the staringcrowd behind, I drove off to a little house, about half a mile away, where we found our destination. I was shown into a tiny room, smellingstrongly of disinfectants, which from the large centre-table I at oncerecognized as the operating-room, and here I was told I could sleep. Iwas too tired to care much. There was no bed, only a broken-down sofa, and in the corner a dilapidated washstand; the walls and windows wereriddled with bullets, denoting where the young burghers had been amusingthemselves with rifle practice. The secretary then informed me that theyhad to search my luggage, which operation lasted fully half an hour, although I had but one small portmanteau and a dressing-case. The lattertwo Dutch nurses were told off to look through, which, I am bound tosay, they did most unwillingly, remarking to me they had notcontemplated searching people's luggage as part of their already onerousduties. I had even to undress, in order that they might reassure theofficials I had no documents on my person. Meanwhile the men examined mycorrespondence and papers almost microscopically. Needless to say, theyfound nothing. They had barely finished their researches, when amessenger came from the General to say, if Colonel Baden-Powell wouldexchange me for a Dutchman imprisoned in Mafeking, a certain PetrusViljoen, he would consent to my going in. I found, on inquiry, that thisman had been imprisoned for theft several months before the war, and Itold them plainly it was manifestly unfair to exchange a man and acriminal for a woman; further, that I could not even ask ColonelBaden-Powell officially to do such a thing, and could only mention it, as an impossible condition, in a letter to my husband, if they chose tosend it in. To this they agreed, so I indited the following letter, couched in terms which the secretary might peruse:

 "_December 2, 1899. _

 "MY DEAR GORDON, "I am at the laager. General Snyman will not give me a pass unless Colonel Baden-Powell will exchange me for a Mr. Petrus Viljoen. I am sure this is impossible, so I do not ask him formally. I am in a great fix, as they have very little meal left at Setlagoli or the surrounding places. I am very kindly looked after here. "

I then went to sleep in my strange surroundings, with small hope of anysuccess from my application to Mafeking. The next day, Sunday, wasobserved by both parties as a day of rest. About seven one of the nursesbrought me a cup of coffee, and then I proceeded to dress as best Imight. So clearly did that horrid little room imprint itself on mymemory that I seem to see it as I write. The dusty bare boards, crackedand loose in places, had no pretence to any acquaintance with ascrubbing-brush, and very little with a broom. A rickety old chest ofdrawers stood in one corner, presumably filled with hospitalnecessaries, from the very strong smell of drugs emanating from it, andfrom the fact that the nurses would bustle in and rummage for somedesired article, giving glimpses of the confusion inside. On the top ofthe drawers were arranged a multitude of medicine-bottles, half full andhalf empty, cracked and whole. The broken old washstand had been ofvaluable service during the night, as with it I barricaded the door, innocent of any lock or key. When I was dressed, I walked out on to thetiny stoep, surrounded by a high paling. My attention was at onceattracted to a woman in a flood of tears, and presently the cause of herweeping was explained, as an elderly man came round the corner of thehouse with both his hands roughly tied up with bandages covered withblood--a sight which caused the young woman to sob with renewed vigour. After a little talk with the man, who, in spite of his injuries, seemedperfectly well, the latter went away, and I entered into conversationwith the weeping female, whom I found to speak good English, and to bethe daughter of the wounded warrior, Hoffman by name and German bybirth. They were Transvaal subjects, and her father had been among thefirst of the burghers to turn out when hostilities threatened. She thenproceeded to tell me that she and her mother and a numerous collectionof young brothers and sisters had trekked in from their home in theTransvaal to spend the Sunday in the laager with their father. On theirarrival early that morning, they learnt, to their horror, that he hadbeen wounded, or, rather, injured, late the night before, as themutilated state of his hands arose from a shell exploding in thehigh-velocity Krupp gun just as he was loading it. She told me herfather was one of the most valued artillerymen on the Boer side, andthat he was also an adept in the art of making fireworks, his lasttriumph in this line having been at Mafeking on the occasion of thecelebration of Queen Victoria's Diamond Jubilee. Fully appreciating thevalue of his services, the Transvaal authorities had from thecommencement given him the most arduous tasks, and always, sheindignantly added, in the forefront of the battle. As regarded thepresent accident, she said her father had repeatedly told theauthorities these particular shells were not safe to handle. Apparentlythe safety-bolt was missing from all of them, making them when loaded asbrittle as an eggshell. This young lady and her mother were certainlyvery anti-Boer in their sympathies, though terribly afraid of allowingtheir feelings to be known. All that day and the next they spent in thelaager, looking after the injured _père de famille_, whom, by the way, Igot quite friendly with, but who, I think, was rather relieved to seehis family depart. I rather regretted them, as Miss Hoffman used tobring me a lot of gossip overheard in the laager, where she assured mepublic opinion was running very strongly against me, and that all wereof opinion the General should certainly not allow me to join my friendsin Mafeking. 

The morning dragged on. It was a hot, gusty day, and I found the shelterof my poky little room the most comfortable resting-place, althoughinstead of a chair I had but a wooden case to sit on. About eleven I sawa clerical gentleman arriving, who I rightly concluded was the parsoncoming to conduct the service. Presently the strangest of noises I haveever heard arose from the back-premises of the tiny house. It isdifficult to conceive anything so grotesque as some Dutch singing is. Imagine a doleful wail of many voices, shrill treble and deep bass, allon one note, now swelling in volume, now almost dying away, sung with acertain metre, and presumably with soul-stirring words, but with noattempt to keep together or any pretensions to an air of any kind, andyou will have an idea of a Dutch chant or hymn. This noise--for itcannot be called a harmony--might equally well be produced by a howlingparty of dogs and cats. Then followed long prayers--for only theparson's voice could be heard--then more dirges, after which it wasover, and all trooped away, apparently much edified. One of the nursesbrought me some lunch and spread it on the rickety table, with a dirtynapkin as a tablecloth. As regards the food, which these young ladiestold me they took it in turn to cook, it was very fair; only one day wegot no meat and no meal; the other days they gave me eggs, very goodbeef, splendid potatoes, and bread in any quantity. Besides this, I wasable to buy delicious fruit, both figs and apricots. As beverages therewere tea and coffee, the latter, of course, being the Transvaal nationaldrink--that is to say, when "dop" cannot be had. Beer is almost unknown, except the imported kinds of Bass and Schlitz, for what is known as"Kaffir beer" is a filthy decoction. About midday I received a formalreply from Gordon, as follows:

 "MAFEKING, " _December 3, 1899. _

 "MY DEAR SARAH, "I am delighted to hear you are being well treated, but very sorry to have to tell you that Colonel Baden-Powell finds it impossible to hand over Petrus Viljoen in exchange for you, as he was convicted of horse-stealing before the war. I fail to see in what way it can benefit your captors to keep you a prisoner. Luckily for them, it is not the custom of the English to make prisoners of war of women. 

 "GORDON WILSON. "

Of course I was grievously disappointed, but at the same time I hadreally expected no other answer, as I informed Mr. Brink (the General'ssecond secretary), who had brought me the letter. He was gravelyapologetic, and informed me the General and Commandant were holding aKriegsraad early on the following morning, when my case would receivetheir full consideration. In the afternoon we had the excitement ofseeing the Pretoria coach drive up to the laager with much horn-blowingand whip-cracking. Later some newspapers were brought across, and I wasable actually to peruse a Transvaal paper only two days old. TheGeneral's other secretary, who presented them to me, made someastounding statements, which he said had just come up on officialwires--namely, that England and Russia would be at war before that veryweek was out, in what locality he did not know; and that Germany hadsuddenly increased her fleet by many ships, spending thereon£10, 000, 000. To this I ventured to remark that the building of thoseships would take four or five years, which would make it almost too lateto assist the Transvaal in the present war. I also reminded him casuallythat Germany's Emperor and Empress were, according to their own papers, then paying a visit to Queen Victoria, which did not look as if thatcountry was exactly unfriendly to England. To this he had nothing toreply, and I saw that this imperial visit was a sore subject with myentertainers. For this reason I made a point of referring to it on everypossible occasion. As I was eating my solitary supper, Mr. Brinkappeared with a letter from Colonel Baden-Powell as follows:

 "_December 5, 1899. _

 "DEAR LADY SARAH, "I am so distressed about you. You must have been having an awful time of it, and I can't help feeling very much to blame; but I had hoped to save you the unpleasantness of the siege. 

 "However, I trust now that your troubles are nearly over at last, and that General Snyman will pass you in here. 

 "We are all very well, and really rather enjoying it all. 

 "I wrote last night asking for you to be exchanged for Mrs. Delpoort, but had no answer, so have written again to-day, and sincerely hope it will be all right. 

 "Hope you are well, in spite of your troubles. 

 "Yours sincerely, "R. BADEN-POWELL. "

I then learnt from another letter that Mrs. Delpoort, who had originallyexpressed the wish to leave Mafeking, where she was residing with manyother friends in the women's laager, had changed her mind, or herrelatives did not encourage her to leave the shelter of the town; forthe Staff had experienced some difficulty in persuading her to agree tothe exchange, even if General Snyman allowed the same. I asked if ananswer had been returned to the Colonel's letter, and Mr. Brink repliedin the negative. Very indignant, I said that I did not mean to be keptin my present wretched quarters indefinitely, and that, if no exchangecould be effected, I would request a pass to return to Setlagoli, andrisk the scarcity of food. He looked rather confused, and said somewhattimidly that no doubt the General would allow me to go to Pretoria, where I should find "pleasant ladies' society. " Seeing my look of angrysurprise, he hastily added that he only wished he had a house of his ownto place at my disposal. I saw it was no use venting my annoyance onthis young man, who was civility itself, so I merely remarked I had nointention of visiting their capital, and that the present was certainlynot a time for an English lady to travel alone in the Transvaal. To thishe gushingly agreed, but added that, of course, the General would giveme a proper escort. These words were quite enough to denote which waythe wind was blowing. I would not for an instant admit they had a rightto detain me or to send me to any place against my will, having comethere voluntarily, merely to ask the General a favour. I was thereforeconveniently blind and deaf, and, begging my amiable young friend tosubmit Colonel Baden-Powell's suggestion to the Kriegsraad on thefollowing morning, and to apprise me of the result, I wished himgood-night, and went to bed once more on the wretched sofa, in anythingbut a hopeful frame of mind. However, as is so often the case, myspirits revived in the morning, and, on considering the situation, Icould not see what object the Transvaal authorities could have indetaining me a prisoner. I was certainly very much in the way of thehospital arrangements, and I fully made up my mind to refuse absolutelyto go to Pretoria, unless they took me by force. I also determined toleave them no peace at the headquarters till they gave me a definitereply. The day dragged on; the flies simply swarmed in my poky littleroom. Never have I seen anything like the plague of these insects, butthe nurses assured me that at the laager itself they were far worse, attracted, doubtless, by the cattle, horses, and food-stuffs. At lengthI received a letter in an enormous official envelope, saying GeneralSnyman had wired to Pretoria about me, and expected an answer everyminute, which reply should be immediately communicated to me. By my ownfree will I had put myself completely in their power. This did notprevent me, however, from speaking my mind freely on what I termed "theextraordinary treatment I was receiving, " to both of the secretaries, tothe nurses, and to the patients. The latter, being men, were verysympathizing; the nurses, though kind and attentive, were not quite sofriendly, and seemed somewhat suspicious of my business. Neither ofthese, I ascertained, had gone through any previous training, but hadvolunteered their services, as they thought it "would be a lark. "Whether their expectations were realized was doubtful, as they told methey were worked off their legs; that they had to cook, wash theirclothes, and clean out the wretched little rooms, besides looking afterthe patients. In addition to these two girls there was a "lady doctor, "the first of her species I had ever come across, and with whom I was notfavourably impressed. Very untidy in her appearance, her head coveredwith curls, her costume composed of the remnants of showy finery, thislady had been a handsome woman, but her personality, combined with avery discontented expression of countenance, did not exactly form one'sidea of a substitute for the skilful, kind, and cheerful hospital doctorthat we know at home. In fact, she looked singularly out of place, whichI remarked to several people, partly from the irritation I felt onhearing her addressed as "Doctor. " No doubt these remarks were repeatedto her, and this accounted for her black looks. 

I must not omit a few words about the patients and visitors of thehospital, with all of whom I was most friendly. One and all wereexceedingly civil, and I never encountered any rudeness whatever. Eventhe burghers of no importance, poorly clad, out at elbow, and of starvedappearance, who came to the hospital for advice and medicines, all alikemade me a rough salutation, evidently the best they were acquaintedwith. Those of more standing nearly always commenced to chat in verygood English; in fact, I think a great many came up with the purpose ofobserving the captured _rara avis_, an Englishwoman. We did not actuallydiscuss the progress of the war and what led to it, sticking more togeneralities. One hope was universally expressed, that it would soon beover, and this I heartily re-echoed. I told one of them I thought theyhad been foolish to destroy all the railway-line, as it had left theirown people so terribly short of food; to this he replied that such minormatters could not be helped, that they must all suffer alike and helpeach other; also that they were well aware that they were taking on avery great Power, and that every nerve must be strained if they couldhope for success. So another day and night passed. I continued to senddown letters without end to headquarters; but it was always the sameanswer: they were waiting for the reply from Pretoria. One afternoon wehad a very heavy thunderstorm and deluges of rain, the heaviest I hadseen in South Africa; the water trickled into my room, and drippeddrearily on the floor for hours; outside, the stream between thehospital and laager became a roaring torrent. No one came near us thatafternoon, and I really think communication was not possible. Later itcleared and the flood abated; a lively bombardment was then commenced, on the assumption, probably, that the Mafeking trenches were filledwith water and uninhabitable. It was trying to the nerves to sit andlisten to the six or seven guns all belching forth their missiles ofdeath on the gallant little town, which was so plainly seen from mywindows, and which seemed to lie so unprotected on the veldt. Just as Ihad barricaded my door and gone to rest on my sofa about nine o'clock, the big siege gun suddenly boomed out its tremendous discharge, causingthe whole house to shake and everything in the room to jingle. It seemeda cruel proceeding, to fire on a partially sleeping town, but I did notknow then how accustomed the inhabitants were to this evening gun, andhow they took their precautions accordingly. 

I must say I disliked the nights at the hospital exceedingly. It wasinsufferably hot and stuffy in the little room, and the window, onlyabout 2 feet above the ground, had to be left open. The sentries, aboutsix in number--doubled, as I understood, on my account--lay and loungedon the stoep outside. Instead of feeling them anything of a protection, I should have been much happier without them. It must be recollectedthat these burghers were very undisciplined and independent ofauthority, only a semblance of which appeared to be exercised over them. They included some of a very low type, and it appeared to be left tothemselves to choose which post they would patronize. It was remarked tome they preferred the hospital, as it was sheltered, and that the samemen had latterly come there every night. Their behaviour during theirwatch was very unconventional. They came on duty about 6 p. M. , and madethemselves thoroughly comfortable on the stoep with mackintoshes andblankets. Their rifles were propped up in one corner, and the bandoliersthrown on the ground. There were a couple of hammocks for the patients'use, and in these two of them passed the night. Before retiring to rest, they produced their pipes and foul-smelling Boer tobacco, proceeding tolight up just under my windows, meanwhile talking their unmusicallanguage with great volubility. At length, about ten, they appeared toslumber, and a chorus of snoring arose, which generally sent me tosleep, to be awakened two or three hours later by renewed conversations, which now and then died away into hoarse whispers. I always imaginedthey were discussing myself, and devising some scheme to step over thelow sill into my room on the chance of finding any loot. I complainedone day to the nurses of the fact that their extreme loquacity reallyprevented my sleeping, and, as she told me that the patients suffered inthe same way, I advised her to speak to the sentinels and ask them to bemore quiet. She told me afterwards she had done so, and that they saidthey had been insulted, and would probably not come again. We bothlaughed, and agreed it would not matter much if this calamity occurred. 

The next day I was still put off, when I requested to know what had beendecided about my fate. I was getting desperate, and had serious thoughtsof taking "French leave, " risking Boer sentries and outposts, andwalking into Mafeking at night; but it was the fear of being fired onfrom our own trenches that deterred me. Fortunately, however, assistancewas at hand. On the afternoon of the fifth day that I had spent at thelaager, a fine-looking burgher rode up to the hospital, and I heard himconversing in very good English. Presently, after staring at me for sometime, he came up and said he had known Randolph Churchill, who, heheard, was my brother, and that he should so like to have a little talk. He then informed me his name was Spencer Drake, to which I said: "Yourname and your conversation would make me think you are an Englishman, Mr. Drake. " "So I am, " was his reply. "I was born in Norfolk. My fatherand grandfather before me were in Her Majesty's Navy, and we aredescended from the old commander of Queen Elizabeth's time. " To this Iobserved that I was sorry to see him in the Boer camp amongst theQueen's enemies. He looked rather sheepish, but replied: "Our familysettled in Natal many years ago, and I have ever since been a Transvaalburgher. I owe everything I possess to the South African Republic, andof course I fight for its cause; besides which, we colonials were verybadly treated and thrown over by the English Government in 1881, andsince then I have ceased to think of England as my country. " As heseemed well disposed toward me, I did not annoy him by continuing thediscussion, and he went on to inform me that he was the General'sAdjutant, and had been away on business, therefore had only just heardthat I was in the laager, and he had come at once to see if he could beof any service. I took the opportunity of telling him what I thought ofthe way in which they were treating me, pointing out the wretchedaccommodation I had, and the fact that they had not even supplied mewith a bed. He was very sympathetic, and expressed much sorrow at mydiscomforts, promising to speak to the General immediately, thoughwithout holding out much hope of success, as he told me the latter wassometimes very difficult to manage. After a little more talk, duringwhich I made friends with his horse, described by him as a wonderfulbeast, he rode off, and I was full of renewed hope. A little later theyoung secretary came up again to see me. To supplement my messagesthrough Mr. Drake, I requested this young man to tell the General that Icould see they were taking a cowardly advantage of me because I was awoman, and that they would never have detained a man under similarcircumstances. In fact, I was on every occasion so importunate that I amquite sure the General's Staff only prayed for the moment that I shoulddepart. That afternoon I had a long talk to two old German soldiers, then burghers, who were both characters in their way. Hoffman, beforealluded to, had been a gunner in the Franco-German War, and was full ofinformation about the artillery of that day and this; while the otherhad been through the Crimea, and had taken part in the charge of theLight Brigade, then going on to India to assist in repressing theMutiny. He had evidently never liked the service into which he had beendecoyed by the press-gang, and had probably been somewhat of a _mauvaissujet_, for he told me the authorities were glad enough to give him hisdischarge when the regiment returned to England. He had married andsettled in the Transvaal, making a moderate fortune, only to be ruinedby a lawsuit being given against him, entirely, he naively admitted, because the Judge was a friend of the other side. In spite of this heremained a most warm partisan of the corrupt Boer Government, and atsixty-seven he had gladly turned out to fight the country whose uniformhe had once worn. Whenever I found we were approaching dangerous ground, I used quickly to change the conversation, which perhaps was wise, as Iwas but one in a mighty host. 

FOOTNOTES:

[32] Two thousand Englishmen dead. 

[33] Not to be confounded with General Louis Botha. 

CHAPTER X

 EXCHANGED FOR A HORSE-THIEF--BACK TO MAFEKING AFTER TWO MONTHS' WANDERINGS

 "Hail, fellow! well met!"--SWIFT. 

Next morning I was awakened at 6 a. M. By Mr. Drake knocking at my door, and telling me I was to be ready in half an hour, as ColonelBaden-Powell had consented to exchange me for Petrus Viljoen. Thisexchange had placed our Commanding Officer in an awkward position. Theprisoner was, as I stated before, a criminal, and under the jurisdictionof the civil authorities, who would not take upon themselves theresponsibility of giving him up. Under these circumstances Lord EdwardCecil had come forward and represented to Colonel Baden-Powell that itwas unseemly for an Englishwoman to be left in the hands of the Boers, and transported to Pretoria by the rough coach, exposed to possibleinsults and to certain discomforts. He even declared himself prepared totake any consequent blame on his shoulders, and, being the PrimeMinister's son, his words had great weight. As a matter of fact, PetrusViljoen was anything but a fighting man, and could be of very littleservice to our enemies. The burghers had told me his presence was sopersistently desired from the fact of the republic having private scoresto settle with him. In any case, he was very reluctant to leave Mafekingand the safety of the prison, which fact had influenced ColonelBaden-Powell in finally agreeing to the exchange. 

As may be imagined, I could hardly believe my good fortune, and I lostno time in scrambling into my clothes while the cart was beinginspanned. A vexatious delay occurred from the intractability of themules, which persistently refused to allow themselves to be caught. Theexchange of prisoners had to be effected before 8 a. M. , when the trucewould be over, and I shall never forget how I execrated those stubbornanimals, as the precious minutes slipped by, fearful lest my captorswould change their minds and impose fresh conditions. However, at lengthall was ready, and, escorted by some artillery officers, I drove toheadquarters, where I was requested to descend in order to have anotherinterview with the General. Again an inquisitive crowd watched mymovements, but civilly made way for me to pass into the little roomwhere General Snyman was holding a sort of levee. The latter asked me afew purposeless questions. I gravely expressed a hope that his eyeswere better (he had been suffering from inflamed sight); then he roseand held out his hand, which I could not ignore, and without furtherdelay we were off. About 2, 000 yards from Mafeking I noticed the enemy'sadvanced trenches, with some surprise at their proximity to the town;and here we met the other party with a white flag escorting Mr. Viljoen, who looked foolish, dejected, and anything but pleased to see hisfriends. He was forthwith given over to their care, the mules werewhipped up, and at a gallop we rattled into the main street. From thefirst redoubt Colonel Baden-Powell and Lord Edward Cecil ran out togreet me, and the men in the trench gave three ringing English cheers, which were good to hear; but no time had to be lost in getting undercover, and I drove straight to Mr. Wiel's house, and had hardly reachedit when "Creechy" (a Dutch pet-name which had been given to the bigsiege gun) sent a parting salute, and her shell whizzed defiantly overour heads. 

Then commenced a more or less underground existence, which continued forfive and a half months; but, surrounded by friends, it was to me aperfect heaven after so many weeks passed amidst foes. I had much tohear, and it took some time to realize all the changes in the littletown since I had left. First and foremost, the town guard were comingsplendidly out of their long-protracted ordeal. Divided into threewatches, they passed the night at the different redoubts, behind each ofwhich was a bomb-proof shelter. Those of the second watch were ready toreinforce the men on duty, while the third were only to turn out ifsummoned by the alarm-bell. All the defences had, indeed, been broughtto a wonderful pitch of perfection by the C. O. First there was a networkof rifle-pits, which gave the Boers no peace day or night, and fromwhich on one side or the other an almost incessant sniping went on. These were supplemented by dynamite mines, the fame of which hadfrightened the Boers more than anything else, all connected withHeadquarter Staff Office by electric wires. In addition there wasbarbed-wire fencing round the larger earthworks, and massive barricadesof waggons and sandbags across the principal streets. All this lookedvery simple once erected and in working order, but it was the outcome ofinfinite thought and ever-working vigilance. Then there was a completesystem of telephones, connecting all the redoubts and the hospital withthe Staff Office, thereby saving the lives of galloping orderlies, besides gaining their services as defenders in a garrison so small thateach unit was an important factor. Last, but certainly not least, werethe bomb-proof shelters, which black labour had constructed underclever supervision all over the town, till at that time, in case ofheavy shelling, nearly every inhabitant could be out of harm's way. Whatstruck me most forcibly was that, in carrying out these achievements, Colonel Baden-Powell had been lucky enough to find instruments, in theway of experienced men, ready to his hand. One officer was proficient inbomb-proofs, the postmaster thoroughly understood telephones, whileanother official had proved himself an expert in laying mines. The areato be defended had a perimeter of six miles; but, in view of thesmallness of the garrison and the overwhelming number of the Boers, itwas fortunate the authorities had been bold and adventurous enough toextend the trenches over this wide space, instead of following the oldSouth African idea of going into laager in the market-square, which hadbeen the first suggestion. The town was probably saved by being able topresent so wide a target for the Boer artillery, and although we werethen, and for the next few weeks, cut off from all communication withthe outer world, even by nigger letter-carriers, and in spite of bulletsrattling and whizzing through the market-square and down theside-streets, the Boer outposts were gradually being pushed away by ourriflemen in their invisible pits. While on this subject, I must mentionthat a day spent in those trenches was anything but an agreeable one. Parties of six men and an officer occupied them daily before dawn, andremained there eighteen hours, as any attempt to leave would have meanta hail of bullets from the enemy, distant only about 600 yards. Theywere dug deep enough to require very little earthwork for protection;hence they were more or less invisible by the enemy in their largertrenches. These latter were constantly subjected to the annoyance ofbullets coming, apparently, from the ground, and, though other foesmight have acted differently in like circumstances, the Boers did notcare for the job of advancing across the open to dislodge the hiddenenemy. 

In a very few days a new bomb-proof shelter had been constructed for me, and to inaugurate it I gave an underground dinner with six guests. Thisbomb-proof was indeed a triumph in its line, and I must describe it. About 18 by 15 feet, and 8 feet high, it was reached by a flight oftwelve wooden steps, at the top of which was a door that gave it theprivacy of a room. It was lighted besides by three horizontal apertures, which resembled the very large portholes of a sailing-ship, and thisillusion was increased by the wooden flaps that could be closed at will. The roof was composed of two lots of steel rails placed one above theother, and on these were sheets of corrugated iron and a huge tarpaulinto keep out the rain. Above, again, were 9 feet of solid earth, whilerows upon rows of sandbags were piled outside the entrance to guardagainst splinters and stray bullets. The weighty roof was supported, asan additional precaution, on the inside by three stout wooden posts, which, together with the rather dim light, most apparent when descendingfrom the brilliant sunshine outside, gave the bomb-proof the appearanceof a ship's cabin; in fact, one of my visitors remarked it much remindedhim of the well-known print of the _Victory's_ cockpit when Nelson laya-dying. The interior panelling was painted white. One wall was entirelycovered with an enormous Union Jack, and the other was decorated withnative weapons, crowned by a trophy of that very war--namely, the onlyMauser carbine then taken from the Boers. To complete the up-to-datenature of this protected dwelling, a telephone was installed, throughthe medium of which I could in a second communicate with the StaffHeadquarters, and have due notice given me of "Creechy's" movements. Inthis shelter it was certainly no hardship to spend those hot days, andit was known to be the coolest place in town at that hot season of theyear. 

On Sundays we were able, thanks to the religious proclivities of theBoers, to end our mole existence for twenty-four hours, and walk andlive like Christians. To almost the end of the siege this truce wasscrupulously observed on both sides, and from early dawn to late atnight the whole population thoroughly enjoyed themselves. The relievedexpression on the faces of all could not fail to be apparent to even acasual observer. Pale women and children emerged from their laager, puton their finery, sunned themselves, and did their shopping. The blackladies went in a body to the veldt to collect firewood with all theirnatural gaiety and light-heartedness, which not even shell-fire andnumerous casualties amongst themselves seemed seriously to disturb. Those of us who had horses and carriages at our disposal rode and droveanywhere within our lines in perfect safety. The first Sunday I was inMafeking I was up and on my pony by 6 a. M. , unwilling to lose a momentof the precious day. We rode all round our defences, and inspected CanonKopje, the scene of the most determined attack the Boers had made, therepulse of which, at the beginning of the siege, undoubtedly saved thetown. From there we looked through the telescope at "Creechy, " whoseevery movement could be watched from this point of vantage, and whosewickedly shining barrel was on the "day of rest" modestly pointed to theground. Returning, we rode through the native stadt, quite the mostpicturesque part of Mafeking, where the trim, thatched, beaver-shapedhuts, surrounded by mud walls, enclosing the little gardens and somereally good-sized trees, appeared to have suffered but little damagefrom the bombardment, in spite of the Boers having specially directedtheir fire against the inhabitants (the Baralongs), who were oldopponents of theirs. These natives were only armed by the authoritieswhen the invaders specially selected them for their artillery fire andmade raids on their cattle. The variety and sizes of these arms werereally laughable. Some niggers had old-fashioned Sniders, otherselephant guns, and the remainder weapons with enormously long barrels, which looked as if they dated back to Waterloo. To their owners, however, the maker or the epoch of the weapon mattered little. They wereproud men, and stalked gravely along the streets with their preciousrifles, evidently feeling such a sense of security as they had neverexperienced before. 

On the Sunday I alluded to, after our ride we attended morning service, held as usual in the neat little church, which, with the exception of afew gashes in the ceiling rafters, caused by fragments of shell, had upto date escaped serious injury. The Dutch Church, on the other hand, curiously enough, was almost demolished by shell-fire at the beginningof the siege. We then drove up to the hospital, where Miss Hill, theplucky and youthful-looking matron, received us and showed us round. This girl--for she was little more--had been the life and prop of theplace for the past two months, during which time the resources of thelittle hospital had been taxed almost past belief. Where twenty was theusual number of patients, there were actually sixty-four on the occasionof my first visit. The staff was composed of only a matron and threetrained nurses. In addition to their anxieties for the patients, whowere being so frequently brought in with the most terrible injuries, these nurses underwent considerable risks from the bombardment, which, no doubt from accident, had been all along directed to the vicinity ofthe hospital and convent, which lay close together. The latter hadtemporarily been abandoned by the nuns, who were living in an adjacentbomb-proof, and the former had not escaped without having a shellthrough one of the wards, at the very time a serious operation wastaking place. By a miraculous dispensation no patient was injured, but awoman, who had been previously wounded by a Mauser bullet while in thelaager, died of fright. 

The afternoon was taken up by a sort of gymkhana, when a happy holidaycrowd assembled to see the tilting at the ring, the lemon-cutting, andthe tug-of-war. At this entertainment Colonel Baden-Powell wasthoroughly in his element, chatting to everyone and dispensing tea froma travelling waggon. In the evening I dined at Dixon's with our oldparty, and, really, the two months that had elapsed since I was at thatsame table had effected but little change in the surroundings and in thefare, which at that early stage of the siege was as plentiful as ever, even the stock of Schweppes' soda-water appearing inexhaustible. Besidesthis luxury, we had beautiful fresh tomatoes and young cabbages. Themeat had resolved itself into beef, and beef only, but eggs helped outthe menu, and the only non-existent delicacy was "fresh butter. " Thiscommodity existed in tins, but I must confess the sultry weather hadanticipated the kitchen, in that it usually appeared in a melted state. 

The most formidable weapon of the Boers was, naturally, the big siegeCreusot gun. The very first day I arrived in Mafeking "Creechy"discharged a shell that killed a trooper of the Protectorate Regiment, who happened to be standing up in the stables singing a song, whilstfour or five others were seated on the ground. The latter wereuninjured, but the dead man was absolutely blown to bits, and one of hislegs was found in the roof. A few days after two more shells landed inthe market-square, one going through the right window of the chemist'sshop, the other demolishing the left-hand one. Some of the staff wereactually in the shop when the second shell came through the window, andwere covered with dust, broken bits of glass, and shattered wood, butall providentially escaped unhurt. Others were not so fortunate, for anigger in the market-square was literally cut in half, and a white man100 yards away had his leg torn off. Again, in Mr. Wiel's store a shellburst while the building was full of people, without injuring anyone;but one of the splinters carried an account-book from the counter anddeposited it in the roof on its outward passage. Indeed, not a daypassed but one heard of marvellously narrow escapes. 

As the heat increased, the shelling grew certainly slacker, and, afteran hour or two spent in exchanging greetings in the early morning, bothbesieged and besiegers seemed to slumber during the sultry noondayhours. About four they appeared to rouse themselves, and often mytelephone would then ring up with the message: "The gun is loaded, andpointed at the town. " Almost simultaneously a panting little bell, notmuch louder than a London muffin-bell, but heard distinctly all over thetown in the clear atmosphere, would give tongue, and luckless folk whowere promenading the streets had about three seconds to seek shelter, the alarm being sounded as the flash was seen by the look-out. Oneafternoon they gave us three shots in six minutes, but, of course, thisrapid firing was much safer for the inhabitants than a stray shot aftera long interval, as people remained below-ground expecting a repetitionof that never-to-be-forgotten crashing explosion, followed by thesickening noise of the splinters tearing through the air, sometimes justover one's head, like the crack of a very long whip, manipulated by amaster-hand. The smallest piece of one of these fragments was sufficientto kill a man, and scarcely anyone wounded with a shell ever seemed tosurvive, the wounds being nearly always terribly severe, and theirpoison occasioning gangrene to set in. There were many comic as well astragic incidents connected with the shells of the big gun. A monkeybelonging to the post-office, who generally spent the day on the top ofa pole to which he was chained, would, on hearing the alarm-bell, rapidly descend from his perch, and, in imitation of the human beingswhom he saw taking shelter, quickly pop under a large empty biscuit-tin. Dogs also played a great part in the siege. One, belonging to theBase-Commandant, was wounded no less than three times; a rough Irishterrier accompanied the Protectorate Regiment in all its engagements;and a third amused itself by running after the small Maxim shells, barking loudly, and trying to retrieve pieces. On the other hand, theResident Commissioner's dog was a prudent animal, and whenever she heardthe alarm-bell, she would leave even her dinner half eaten, and boltdown her master's bomb-proof. On one occasion I remember being amused atseeing a nigger, working on the opposite side of the road, hold up aspade over his head like an umbrella as the missile came flashing by, while a fellow-workman crawled under a large tarpaulin that wasstretched on the ground. These natives always displayed the mostastonishing sang-froid. One day we saw a funny scene on the occasion ofa Kaffir wedding, when the bridegroom was most correctly attired inmorning-dress and an old top-hat. Over his frock-coat he wore hisbandolier, and carried a rifle on his shoulder; the bride, swathed in along white veil from head to foot, walked by his side, and was followedby two young ladies in festive array, while the procession was broughtup by more niggers, armed, like the bridegroom, to the teeth. The partysolemnly paraded the streets for fully half an hour, in no wisedisconcerted by a pretty lively shelling and the ring of the Mausers onthe corrugated iron roofs. 

Quite as disagreeable as "Creechy, " although less noisy, was the enemy's1-pound Maxim. A very loud hammering, quickly repeated, and almostsimultaneously a whirring in the air, followed by four quick explosions, and then we knew this poisonous devil was at work. The shells werelittle gems in their way, and when they did not burst, which was oftenthe case, were tremendously in request as souvenirs. Not much largerthan an ordinary pepper-caster, when polished up and varnished they madereally charming ornaments, and the natives were quick to learn that theycommanded a good price, for after a shower had fallen there was ahelter-skelter amongst the black boys for any unexploded specimens. Oneevening we had a consignment into the road just outside my bomb-proof, attracted by a herd of mules going to water. Immediately the smallpiccaninny driving these animals scampered off, returning in triumphwith one of these prizes, which he brought me still so hot that I couldnot hold it. It used often to strike me how comic these scenes atMafeking would have been to any aeronaut hovering over the town of anevening, especially when the shelling had been heavy. Towards sundownthe occupants of the various bomb-proofs used to emerge and sit on thesteps or the sandbags of their shelters, conversing with theirneighbours and discussing the day's damage. All of a sudden the bellwould tinkle, and down would go all the heads, just as one has oftenseen rabbits on a summer evening disappear into their holes at thereport of a gun. In a few minutes, when the explosion was over, theywould bob up again, to see if any harm had been done by the lastmissile. Then night would gradually fall on the scene, sometimes madealmost as light as day by a glorious African moon, concerning which Ishall always maintain that in no other country is that orb of suchbrightness, size, and splendour. The half-hour between sundown andmoonrise, or twilight and inky blackness, as the case happened to be, according to the season or the weather, was about the pleasantest timein the whole day. As a rule it was a peaceful interval as regardsshelling. Herds of mules were driven along the dusty streets to bewatered; cattle and goats returned from the veldt, where they had beengrazing in close proximity to the town, as far as possible out of sight;foot-passengers, amongst them many women, scurried along the side-walksclosely skirting the houses. Then, when daylight had completely faded, all took shelter, to wait for the really vicious night-gun, which wasusually fired between eight and nine with varying regularity, as ourenemies, no doubt, wished to torment the inhabitants by not allowingthem to know when it was safe for them to seek their homes and theirbeds. There was a general feeling of relief when "Creechy" had boomedher bloodthirsty "Good-night. " Only once during the whole siege was shefired in the small hours of the morning, and that was on Dingaan's Day(December 16), when she terrified the sleeping town by beginning herday's work at 2. 30 a. M. , followed by a regular bombardment from all theother guns in chorus, to celebrate the anniversary of the great Boervictory over the Zulus many years ago. Frequent, however, were thevolleys from the trenches that suddenly broke the tranquillity of theearly night, and startling were they in their apparent nearness till onegot accustomed to them. At first I thought the enemy must be firing inthe streets, so loud were the reports, owing to the atmosphere and thewind setting in a particular direction. The cause of these volleys wasmore difficult to discover, and, as our men never replied, it seemedsomewhat of a waste of ammunition. Their original cause was a sortieearly in the siege, when Captain Fitzclarence made a night attack withthe bayonet on their trenches. Ever afterwards an animal moving on theveldt, a tree or bush stirred by the wind, an unusual light in the town, was sufficient for volley after volley to be poured at imaginary foes. By nine o'clock these excitements were usually over, and half an hourafterwards nearly every soul not on duty was asleep, secure in thefeeling that for every one who reposed two were on watch; while, asregards Colonel Baden-Powell, he was always prowling about, and thenatives revived his old Matabele nickname of "the man that walks bynight. "

CHAPTER XI

 LIFE IN A BESIEGED TOWN

 "There is a reaper whose name is Death. "--LONGFELLOW. 

We celebrated Christmas Day, 1899, by a festive luncheon-party to whichColonel Baden-Powell and all his Staff were invited. By a strange andfortunate coincidence, a turkey had been overlooked by Mr. Weil when theGovernment commandeered all live-stock and food-stuffs at thecommencement of the siege, and, in spite of the grilling heat, wecompleted our Christmas dinner by a real English plum-pudding. In theafternoon a tea and Christmas-tree for the Dutch and English childrenhad been organized by some officers of the Protectorate Regiment. Amongst those who contributed to the amusement of these poor littlewhite-faced things, on whom the close quarters they were obliged to keepwas beginning to tell, none worked harder than Captain Ronald Vernon. Iremember returning to my quarters, after the festivity, with thisofficer, and his telling me, in strict confidence, with eageranticipation, of a sortie that was to be made on the morrow, with theobject of obtaining possession of the Boer gun at Game Tree Fort, thefire from which had lately been very disastrous to life and property inthe town. He was fated in this very action to meet his death, andafterwards I vividly recalled our conversation, and reflected howbitterly disappointed he would have been had anything occurred toprevent his taking part in it. The next day, Boxing Day, I shall everremember as being, figuratively speaking, as black and dismal as night. I was roused at 4. 30 a. M. By loud cannonading. Remembering CaptainVernon's words, I telephoned to Headquarters to ask if the Colonel andStaff were there. They had all left at 2. 30 a. M. , so I knew theprojected action was in progress. At five o'clock the firing wascontinuous, and the boom of our wretched little guns was mingled withthe rattle of Boer musketry. Every moment it grew lighter--a beautifulmorning, cool and bright, with a gentle breeze. 

In Mr. Wiel's service was a waiter named Mitchell, a Cockney to thebackbone, and a great character in his way. What had brought him toSouth Africa, or how he came to be in Mafeking, I never discovered; buthe was a cheerful individual, absolutely fearless of shells and bullets. That morning I began to get very anxious, and Mitchell was alsopessimistic. He mounted to the roof to watch the progress of the fight, and ran down from time to time with anything but reassuring pieces ofintelligence, asking me at intervals, when the firing was speciallyfierce: "Are you scared, lady?" At length he reported that our men werefalling back, and that the ambulances could now be seen at work. Withmarvellous courage and coolness, the soldiers had advanced absolutely tounder the walls of the Boer fort, and had found the latter 8 feet high, with three tiers of loopholes. There it was that threeofficers--Captains Vernon, Paton, and Sandford--were shot down, CaptainFitzclarence having been previously wounded in the leg, and left on theveldt calling to his men not to mind him, but to go on, which order theycarried out, nothing daunted by the hail of bullets and the loss oftheir officers. Thanks to the marvellous information the Boersconstantly received during the siege, no doubt from the numerous Dutchspies which were known to be in the town, Game Tree Fort had beenmysteriously strengthened in the night; and, what was still moresignificant, the gun had not only been removed, but General Snyman andCommandment Botha were both on the scene with reinforcements shortlyafter our attack commenced, although the Boer Headquarter camp was fullythree miles away. Without scaling-ladders, it was impossible to mountthe walls of the fort. Our soldiers sullenly turned and walked slowlyaway, the idea of running or getting under shelter never even occurringto them. Had the Boers then had the determination required to come outof their fort and pursue the retiring men, it is possible very few wouldhave returned alive; but, marvellous to relate, and most providentiallyas we were concerned, no sooner did they observe our men falling backthan they ceased firing, as if relief at their departure was coupledwith the fear of aggravating the foes and causing a fresh attack. TheBoers were exceedingly kind in picking up our dead and wounded, whichwere immediately brought in by the armoured train, and which, alas!mounted up to a disastrous total in the tiny community which formed ourgarrison. No less than twenty-five men were killed, including threeofficers; and some twenty or thirty were wounded, most of them severely. The Boers told the ambulance officers they were staggered at our men'spluck, and the Commandant especially appreciated the gallantry requiredfor such an attack, knowing full well how difficult it would have beento induce the burghers to make a similar attempt. About 10 a. M. A rushof people to the station denoted the arrival of the armoured train andits sad burden, and then a melancholy procession of stretchers commencedfrom the railway, which was just opposite my bomb-proof, to thehospital. The rest of the day seemed to pass like a sad dream, and Icould hardly realize in particular the death of Captain Vernon, who hadbeen but a few short hours before so full of health, spirits, andconfidence. 

Recognizing what a press of work there would be at the hospital, Iwalked up there in the afternoon, and asked to be made useful. No doubtout of good feeling, the Boers did not shell at all that day till lateevening, but at the hospital all was sad perturbation. There had onlybeen time to attend to the worst cases, and the poor nurses were justsitting down to snatch a hasty meal. The matron asked me if I wouldundertake the management of a convalescent home that had to be organizedto make more room for the new patients. Of course I consented, and byevening we were busy installing sixteen patients in the railwayservants' institute, near the station. To look after the inmates weremyself, four other ladies, and one partly professional nurse. Wearranged that the latter should attend every day, and the four ladieseach take a day in turn, while I undertook to be there constantly toorder eatables and superintend the housekeeping. On the first evening, when beds, crockery, kitchen utensils, and food, all arrived in a medleyfrom the universal provider, Wiel, great confusion reigned; and when itwas at its height, just as the hospital waggon was driving up with thepatients, "Creechy" sent off one of her projectiles, which burst with adeafening explosion about a hundred yards beyond the improvisedhospital, having absolutely whizzed over the approaching ambulancevehicles. The patients took it most calmly, and were in no waydisconcerted. By Herculean efforts the four ladies and myself got theplace shipshape, and all was finished when the daylight failed. As I ranback to my quarters, the bugle-call of the "Last Post, " several timesrepeated, sounded clear in the still atmosphere of a calm and beautifulevening, and I knew the last farewells were being said to the brave menwho had gone to their long rest. Of course Mafeking's losses on thatblack Boxing Day were infinitesimal compared to those attending theterrible struggles going on in other parts of the country; but, then, itmust be remembered that not only was our garrison a very small one, butalso that, when people are shut up together for months in a beleagueredtown--a handful of English men and women surrounded by enemies, witheven spies in their midst--the feeling of comradeship and friendship istremendously strengthened. Every individual was universally known, andtherefore all the town felt they had lost their own friends, and mournedthem as such. 

From that date for three weeks I went daily to the convalescent home. The short journey there was not totally without risk, as the enemy, having heard of the foundry where primitive shells were beingmanufactured, and which was situated immediately on the road I had totake, persistently sent their missiles in this direction, and I had someexciting walks to and fro, very often alone, but sometimes accompaniedby any chance visitor. One morning Major Tracy and I had just got acrossthe railway-line, when we heard the loading bell, and immediately therewas a _sauve qui pent_ among all the niggers round us, who had been buta moment before lolling, sleeping, and joking, in their usual fashion. Without losing our dignity by joining in the stampede, we put our bestfoot forward, and scurried along the line till we came to some largecoal-sheds, where my companion made me crawl under a very low arch, hemounting guard outside. In this strange position I remained while theshell came crashing over us, a bad shot, and continued its course awayinto the veldt. Another evening the same officer was escorting me to theinstitute, and, as all had been very quiet that afternoon, we had nottaken the precaution of keeping behind the railway buildings, as was myusual custom. We were in the middle of an open space, when suddenly anoutburst of volleys from the Boer trenches came as an unpleasantsurprise, and the next moment bullets were falling behind us and evenin front of us, their sharp ring echoing on the tin roofs. On thisoccasion, as the volleys continued with unabated vigour, I took to myheels with a view to seeking shelter; but Major Tracy could not be movedout of a walk, calling out to me I should probably run into a bulletwhilst trying to avoid it. My one idea being to get through the zone offire, I paid no attention to his remonstrances, and soon reached a safeplace. The Boers only learnt these detestable volleys from our troops, and carried them out indifferently well; but the possibility of theiroccurrence, in addition to the projectiles from "Creechy, " added greatlyto the excitement of an evening stroll, and we had many such episodeswhen walking abroad after the heat of the day. 

In January, Gordon was laid up by a very sharp attack of peritonitis, and was in bed for over a week in my bomb-proof, no other place beingsafe for an invalid, and the hospital full to overflowing. When he beganto mend, I unfortunately caught a chill, and a very bad quinsy sorethroat supervened. I managed, however, to go about as usual, but oneafternoon, when I was feeling wretchedly ill, our hospital attendantcame rushing in to say that a shell had almost demolished theconvalescent home, and that, in fact, only the walls were standing. Thepatients mercifully had escaped, owing to their all being in thebomb-proof, but they had to be moved in a great hurry, and wereaccommodated in the convent. For weeks past this building had not beenshot at, and it was therefore considered a safe place for them, as itwas hoped the Boer gunners had learned to respect the hospital, its nearneighbour. Owing to the rains having then begun, and being occasionallyvery heavy, the bomb-proofs were becoming unhealthy. My throat was dailygetting worse, and the doctor decided that Gordon and myself had betteralso be removed to the convent, hoping that being above-ground mighthelp recovery in both our cases. There was heavy shelling going on thatafternoon, and the drive to our new quarters, on the most exposed andextreme edge of the town, was attended with some excitement. I couldscarcely swallow, and Gordon was so weak he could hardly walk even theshort distance we had to compass on foot. However, we arrived in safety, and were soon made comfortable in this strange haven of rest. 

As I have before written, the convent in Mafeking was from thecommencement of the bombardment picked out by the enemy as a target, andduring the first week it was hit by certainly ten or twelve projectiles, and reduced more or less to a ruined state. At no time can the buildinghave laid claims to the picturesque or the beautiful, but it had onepeculiarity--namely, that of being the only two-storied building inMafeking, and of standing out, a gaunt red structure, in front of thehospital, and absolutely the last building on the north-east side of thetown. It was certainly a landmark for miles, and, but for its sacredorigin and the charitable calling of its occupants, would have been afair mark for the enemy's cannon. Very melancholy was the appearance itpresented, with large gaping apertures in its walls, with its shattereddoors and broken windows; whilst surrounding it was what had been apromising garden, but had then become a mere jungle of weeds and thorns. The back of the edifice comprised below several large living-rooms, overthem a row of tiny cubicles, and was practically undamaged. The eighteenconvalescent patients had been comfortably installed on theground-floor, and we had two tiny rooms above. This accommodation wasconsidered to be practically safe from shells, in spite of the big gunhaving been shifted a few days previously, and it being almost in a linewith the convent. On the upper floor of the eastern side a large room, absolutely riddled with shot and shell, was formerly occupied as adormitory by the children of the convent school. It was now put to anovel use as a temporary barracks, a watch being always on duty there, and a telescope installed at the window. Since the nuns left to take uptheir abode in a bomb-proof shelter, a Maxim had been placed at one ofthe windows, which commanded all the surrounding country; but it wasdiscreetly covered over, and the window-blind kept closely drawn toavert suspicion, as it was only to be used in case of real emergency. Toreach our cubicles there was but a single staircase, which led past thisroom allotted to the soldiers--a fact which left an unsatisfactoryimpression on my mind, for it was apparent that, were the convent aimedat, to reach terra-firma we should have to go straight in the directionof shells or bullets. However, the authorities opined it was all right;so, feeling very ill, I was only too glad to crawl to bed. Just as thesun was setting, the soldiers on watch came tearing down the woodenpassage, making an awful clatter, and calling out: "The gun is pointedon the convent!" As they spoke, the shell went off, clean over ourheads, burying itself in a cloud of dust close to a herd of cattle halfa mile distant. This did not reassure me, but we hoped it was a chanceshot, which might not occur again, and that it had been provoked by thecattle grazing so temptingly within range. I must say there wassomething very weird and eerie in those long nights spent at theconvent. At first my throat was too painful to enable me to sleep, andendless did those dreary hours seem. We had supper usually before seven, in order to take advantage of the fading daylight, for lights were on noaccount to be shown at any of the windows, being almost certain toattract rifle-fire. By eight we were in total darkness, except for thedim little paraffin hand-lamp the Sisters kindly lent me, which, forprecaution's sake, had to be placed on the floor. Extraordinary noisesemanated from those long uncarpeted passages, echoing backwards andforwards, in the ceiling, till they seemed to pertain to the world ofspirits. The snoring of the men on the relief guard was like the groansof a dying man, the tread of those on duty like the march of a mightyarmy. Then would come intense stillness, suddenly broken by a volleyfrom the enemy sounding appallingly near--in reality about a mileoff--and provoked, doubtless, by some very innocent cause. Many of thesevolleys were often fired during the night, sometimes for ten minutestogether, at other times singly, at intervals; anon the boom of a cannonwould vary the entertainment. Occasionally, when unable to sleep, Iwould creep down the pitch-dark corridor to a room overlooking thesleeping town and the veldt, the latter so still and mysterious in themoonlight, and, peeping through a large jagged hole in the wall causedby a shell, I marvelled to think of the proximity of our foes in thispeaceful landscape. At length would come the impatiently-longed-for dawnabout 4 a. M. ; then the garrison would appear, as it were, to wake up, although the greater part had probably spent the night faithfullywatching. Long lines of sentries in their drab khaki would pass theconvent on their homeward journey, walking single file in the deeptrench connecting the town with the outposts, and which formed apractically safe passage from shell and rifle fire. Very quickly did theday burst on the scene, and a very short time we had to enjoy thosecool, still morning hours or the more delightful twilight; the sunseemed impatient to get under way and burn up everything. Of course wehad wet mornings and wet days, but, perhaps fortunately, the rains thatyear were fairly moderate, though plentiful enough to have turned theyellow veldt of the previous autumn into really beautiful long greengrass, on which the half-starved cattle were then thriving and waxingfat. The view from our tiny bedrooms was very pretty, and the coming andgoing of every sort of person in connection with the convalescenthospital downstairs made the days lively enough, and compensated for thedreariness of the nights. The splendid air blowing straight from thefree north and from the Kalahari Desert on the west worked wonders inthe way of restoring us to health, and I began to talk of moving back tomy old quarters. I must confess I was never quite comfortable about theshells, which seemed so constantly to narrowly miss the building, although the look-out men always maintained they were aiming at someother object. One morning I was still in bed, when a stampede of manyfeet down the passage warned me our sentinels had had a warning. Quicklyopening my door, I could not help laughing at seeing the foremost manrunning down the corridor towards our rooms with the precious Maxim gun, enveloped in its coat of canvas, in his arms as if it were a baby. "They're on us this time, " he called out; then came a terrific explosionand a crash of some projectile against the outer walls and doors. Theshell had fallen about 40 feet short of the convent, on the edge of thedeserted garden. Many explanations were given to account for this shot, none of which seemed to me to be very lucid, and I secretly determinedto clear out as soon as the doctor would permit. The very next day wehad the narrowest escape of our lives that it is possible to imagine. There had been very little shelling, and I had taken my first outing inthe shape of a rickshaw drive during the afternoon. The sun wassetting, and our little supper-table was already laid at the end of thecorridor into which our rooms opened, close to the window beside whichwe used to sit. Major Gould Adams had just dropped in, as he often did, to pay a little visit before going off to his night duties as Commandantof the Town Guard, and our repast was in consequence delayed--acircumstance which certainly helped to save our lives. We were chattingpeacefully, when suddenly I recollect hearing the big gun's well-knownreport, and was just going to remark, "How near that sounds!" when aterrifying din immediately above our heads stopped all power ofconversation, or even of thought, and the next instant I was aware thatmasses of falling brick and masonry were pushing me out of my chair, andthat heavy substances were falling on my head; then all was darkness andsuffocating dust. I remember distinctly putting my hands clasped abovemy head to shelter it, and then my feeling of relief when, in anotherinstant or two, the bricks ceased to fall. The intense stillness of mycompanions next dawned upon me, and a sickening dread supervened, thatone of them must surely be killed. Major Gould Adams was the first tocall out that he was all right; the other had been so suffocated bygravel and brickdust that it was several moments before he could speak. In a few minutes dusty forms and terrified faces appeared through thegloom, as dense as the thickest London yellow fog, expecting to findthree mutilated corpses. Imagine their amazement at seeing three humanbeings, in colour more like Red Indians than any other species, emergefrom the ruins and try to shake themselves free from the all-pervadingdust. The great thing was to get out of the place, as another shellmight follow, the enemy having seen, from the falling masonry, howefficacious the last had been. So, feeling somewhat dazed, but reallynot alarmed, as the whole thing had been too quick for fear, I groped myway downstairs. Outside we were surrounded by more frightened people, whom we quickly reassured. The woman cook, who had been sitting in herbomb-proof, was quite sure _she_ had been struck, and was calling loudlyfor brandy; while the rest of us got some soda-water to wash out ourthroats--a necessary precaution as far as I was concerned, as mine hadonly the day previously been lanced for quinsy. By degrees the cloud ofdust subsided, and then in the fading light we saw what an extraordinaryescape we had had. The shell had entered the front wall of the convent, travelled between the iron roof and the ceiling of the rooms, till itreached a wall about 4 feet from where we were sitting. Against this ithad exploded, making a huge hole in the outside wall and in the otherwhich separated our passage from a little private chapel. In this chapelit had also demolished all the sacred images. It was not, however, tillnext day, when we returned to examine the scene of the explosion, thatwe realized how narrowly we had escaped death or terrible injuries. Three people had been occupying an area of not more than 5 feet square;between us was a tiny card-table laid with our supper, and on this theprincipal quantity of the masonry had fallen--certainly 2 tons of redbrick and mortar--shattering it to atoms. If our chairs had been drawnup to the table, we should probably have been buried beneath this mass. But our most sensational discovery was the fact that two enormous piecesof shell, weighing certainly 15 pounds each, were found touching thelegs of my chair, and the smallest tap from one of these would haveprevented our ever seeing another sunrise. Needless to say, we left ourruined quarters that evening, and I reposed more peacefully in mybomb-proof than I had done for many nights past. The air at the conventhad accomplished its healing work. We were both practically recovered, and we had had a hairbreadth escape; but I was firmly convinced that anunderground chamber is preferable to a two-storied mansion when a 6-inch100-pound shell gun, at a distance of two miles, is bombarding the townyou happen to be residing in. 

CHAPTER XII

 LIFE IN A BESIEGED TOWN (_continued_)

 "And so we sat tight. "--_Despatch from Mafeking to War Office. _

February came and went without producing very much change in ourcircumstances, and yet, somehow, there was a difference observable asthe weeks passed. People looked graver; a tired expression was to benoted on many hitherto jovial countenances; the children were paler andmore pinched. Apart from the constant dangers of shells and straybullets, and the knowledge that, when we were taking leave of any friendfor a few hours, it might be the last farewell on earth--apart fromthese facts, which constituted a constant wear and tear of mind, theimpossibility of making any adequate reply to our enemy's bombardmentgradually preyed on the garrison. By degrees, also, our extremeisolation seemed to come home to us, and not a few opined that reliefwould probably never come, and that Mafeking would needs have to besacrificed for the greater cause of England's final triumph. SinceChristmas black "runners" had contrived to pass out of the town withcables, bringing us on their return scrappy news and very ancientnewspapers. For instance, I notice in my diary that at the end of Marchwe were enchanted to read a _Weekly Times_ of January 5. On anotheroccasion the Boers vacated some trenches, which were immediatelyoccupied by our troops, who there found some Transvaal papers of afairly recent date, and actually a copy of the _Sketch_. I shall neverforget how delighted we were with the latter, and the amusement derivedtherefrom compensated us a little for the accounts in the Boer papers ofGeneral Buller's reverses on the Tugela. About the middle of February Iwas enchanted to receive a letter from Mr. Rhodes, in Kimberley, which Ireproduce. 

 [Transcription of letter:

 "Kimberly "Jan 12 / 1900

 "DEAR LADY SARAH, "Just a line to say I often think of you[. ] I wonder do you play bridge, it takes your mind off hospitals, burials and shells. A change seems coming with Buller crossing the Tulega. Jameson should have stopped at Bulawayo and relieved you from North. He can do no good shut up in Ladysmith[. ] I am doing a little good here as I make De Beers purse pay for things military cannot sanction[. ] We have just made and fired a 4 inch gun, it is a success. 

 "Yrs (. ). Rhodes]

This characteristic epistle seemed a link with the outer world, and todenote we were not forgotten, even by those in a somewhat similar plightto ourselves. 

The natives and their splendid loyalty were always a source of interest. Formed into a "cattle guard, " under a white man named Mackenzie, theyoung bloods did excellent service, and were a great annoyance to theBoers by making daring sorties in order to secure some of the latter'sfat cattle. This particular force proudly styled itself "Mackenzie'sBlack Watch. " There were many different natives in Mafeking. Besidesthe Baralongs before alluded to, we had also the Fingos, a very superiorrace, and 500 natives belonging to different tribes, who hailed fromJohannesburg, and who had been forcibly driven into the town by Cronjebefore the siege commenced. These latter were the ones to suffer mostfrom hunger, in spite of Government relief and the fact that they hadplenty of money; for they had done most of the trench-work, and had beenwell paid. The reason was that they were strangers to the other natives, who had their own gardens to supplement their food allowance, and blacksare strangely unkind and hard to each other, and remain quite unmoved ifa (to them) unknown man dies of starvation, although he be of their owncolour. 

The native stadt covered altogether an area of at least a square mile, and was full of surprises in the shape of pretty peeps and ruralscenery. Little naked children used to play on the grass, pausing tostare open-eyed at the passer-by, and men and women sat contentedlygossiping in front of their huts. The whole gave an impression ofprosperity, of waving trees, green herbage, and running water, and wastotally different to the usual African landscape. To ride or drivethrough it on a Sunday was quite a rest, when there was no risk of one'sillusions being dispelled by abominable shells, whose many visibletraces on the sward, in the shape of deep pear-shaped pits, were all thesame in evidence. 

Standing in a commanding position among the thatched houses of thepicturesque native stadt was the Mission Church, of quaint shape, andbuilt of red brick, the foundation of which had been laid by Sir CharlesWarren in 1884. One Sunday afternoon we attended service in thisedifice, and were immensely struck with the devotion of the enormouscongregation of men and women, who all followed the service attentivelyin their books. The singing was most fervent, but the sermon a littletedious, as the clergyman preached in English, and his discourse had tobe divided into short sentences, with a long pause between each, toenable the black interpreter at his side to translate what he said tohis listeners, who simply hung on his words. 

All the natives objected most strongly to partaking of horse soup, supplied by the kitchens, started by the C. O. , as they declared it gavethem the same sickness from which the horses in Africa suffered, andalso that it caused their heads to swell. The authorities were thereforecompelled to devise some new food, and the resourceful genius of aScotchman introduced a porridge called "sowens" to the Colonel's notice. This nutriment, said to be well known in the North of Scotland, wascomposed of the meal which still remained in the oat-husks after theyhad been ground for bread and discarded as useless. It was slightlysour, but very wholesome, and enormously popular with the white and theblack population, especially with the latter, who preferred it to anyother food. 

I must now mention the important item of supplies and how they were ekedout. The provisions sent to Mafeking by the Cape Government before thewar were only sufficient to feed 400 men for a little over a fortnight. At that time a statement was made, to reassure the inhabitants, that theCape Ministry held themselves personally responsible for the security ofthe railway in the colony. Providentially, the firm of Weil and Companyhad sent vast stores to their depôt in the town on their own initiative. This firm certainly did not lose financially by their foresight, but itis a fact that Mafeking without this supply could have made noresistance whatever. There were 9, 000 human beings to feed, of which7, 000 were natives and 2, 000 white people. It can therefore be imaginedthat the task of the D. A. A. G. Was not a light one. Up to April the townconsumed 4, 099 tons of food-stuffs; 12, 256 tons of oats, fodder, meal, and flour; and 930 tons of fuel; making a total of 17, 285 tons. Ofmatches, the supply of which was soon exhausted, 35, 400 boxes wereused, and to take their place tiny paraffin lamps were supplied to all, which burnt night and day. Fortunately, the supply of liquid fuel wasvery large, and it would have taken the place of coal if the siege hadbeen indefinitely prolonged. Among miscellaneous articles which wereluckily to be obtained at Weil's stores were 2 tons of gunpowder andother ammunition, 132 rifles, insulated fuses, and electric dynamos fordischarging mines, etc. 

About a month after the siege started, the C. O. Placed an embargo on allfood-stuffs, and the distribution of rations commenced. From then onwardspecial days were allowed for the sale of luxuries, but always instrictly limited quantities. At first the rations consisted of 1-1/4pounds of meat and 1-1/4 pounds of bread, besides tea, coffee, sugar, and rice. As time went on these were reduced, and towards the end ofMarch we only had 6 ounces of what was called bread and 1 pound of freshmeat, when any was killed; otherwise we had to be content with bullybeef. As to the "staff of life, " it became by degrees abominable andfull of foreign substances, which were apt to bring on fits of choking. In spite of this drawback, there was never a crumb left, and it wasremarkable how little the 6 ounces seemed to represent, especially to ahungry man in that keen atmosphere. 

One day it was discovered there was little, if any, gold left of the£8, 000 in specie that was lodged at the Standard Bank at the beginningof the siege. This sum the Boers had at one time considered was as goodas in their pockets. It was believed the greater portion had since beenabsorbed by the natives, who were in the habit of burying the money theyreceived as wages. In this quandary, Colonel Baden-Powell designed apaper one-pound note, which was photographed on to thick paper of abluish tint, and made such an attractive picture that the Governmentmust have scored by many of them never being redeemed. 

It was not till Ash Wednesday, which fell that year on the last day ofFebruary, that we got our first good news from a London cable, dated tendays earlier. It told us Kimberley was relieved, that Colesberg was inour hands, and many other satisfactory items besides. What was even ofgreater importance was a message from Her Majesty Queen Victoria toColonel Baden-Powell and his garrison, applauding what they had done, and bidding them to hope on and wait patiently for relief, which wouldsurely come. This message gave especial pleasure from its being couchedin the first person, when, as was universally remarked, the task ofsending such congratulations might so easily have been relegated to oneof Her Majesty's Ministers. I really think that no one except ashipwrecked mariner, cast away on a desert island, and suddenlyperceiving a friendly sail, could have followed our feelings of delighton that occasion. We walked about thinking we must be dreaming, andfinding it difficult to believe that we were in such close contact withhome and friends. In less than ten minutes posters were out, and eagergroups were busy at the street-corners, discussing the news, scrappyindeed, and terribly deficient in all details, but how welcome, afterall the vague native rumours we had had to distract us during the pastweeks! We were content then to wait any length of time, and our livesvaried very little as the weeks slipped by. The bombardment was resumedwith vigour, and the old monster gun cruised right round the town andboomed destruction at us from no less than five different points ofvantage. When the shelling was very heavy, we used to say to ourselves, "What a good thing they are using up their ammunition!" when again for afew days it was slack, we were convinced our foes had had bad news. Whatmatter if our next information was that the Boers had been seen throwingup their hats and giving vent to other visible expressions of delight:we had passed a few peaceful hours. 

Many casualties continued to take place; some were fatal and tragic, butmany and providential were the escapes recorded. Among the former, onepoor man was blown to bits while sitting eating his breakfast; but thesame day, when a shell landed in or near a house adjacent to mybomb-proof, it merely took a cage containing a canary with it throughthe window, while another fragment went into a dwelling across thestreet, and made mince-meat of a sewing-machine and a new dress on whicha young lady had been busily engaged. She had risen from her pleasantoccupation but three minutes before. The coolness of the inhabitants, ofboth sexes, was a source of constant surprise and admiration to me, andwomen must always be proud to think that the wives and daughters of thegarrison were just as conspicuous by their pluck as the defendersthemselves. Often of a hot afternoon, when I was sitting in mybomb-proof, from inclination as well as from prudence--for it was a farcooler resort than the stuffy iron-roofed houses--while women andchildren were walking about quite unconcernedly outside, I used to hearthe warning bell ring, followed by so much scuffling, screaming, andgiggling, in which were mingled jokes and loud laughter from the men, that it made me smile as I listened; then, after the explosion, theywould emerge from any improvised shelter and go gaily on their way, andthe clang of the blacksmith's anvil, close at hand, would be resumedalmost before the noise had ceased and the dust had subsided. One day alady was wheeling her two babies in a mail-cart up and down the wideroad, while the Boers were busily shelling a distant part of thedefences. The children clapped their hands when they heard the peculiarsiren and whistle of the quick-firing Krupp shells, followed by dullthuds, as they buried themselves in the ground. On my suggesting to herthat it was not a very favourable time to air the children, she agreed, and said that her husband had just told her to go home, which sheproceeded leisurely to do. Another morning the cattle near the conventwere being energetically shelled, and later I happened to see the MotherSuperior, and commiserated with her in having been in such a hot corner. "Ah, shure!" said the plucky Irish lady, "the shells were dhroppin' allround here; but they were only nine-pounders, and we don't take anynotice of them at all. " No words can describe the cheerful, patientbehaviour of those devoted Sisters through the siege. They boreuncomplainingly all the hardships and discomforts of a floodedbomb-proof shelter, finally returning to their ruined home with anytemporary makeshifts to keep out the rain; and whereas, from overworkand depression of spirits, some folks were at times a little difficultto please, not a word of complaint during all those months ever camefrom the ladies of the convent. They certainly gave an example ofpractical religion, pluck, charity, and devotion. 

And so the moons waxed and waned, and Mafeking patiently waited, and, luckily, had every confidence in the resource and ability of ColonelBaden-Powell. An old cannon had been discovered, half buried in thenative stadt, which was polished up and named "The Lord Nelson, " fromthe fact of its antiquity. For this gun solid cannon-balls weremanufactured, and finally fired off at the nearest Boer trenches; andthe first of these to go bounding along the ground certainly surprisedand startled our foes, which was proved by their quickly moving a partof their laager. In addition a rough gun, called "The Wolf, " wasactually constructed in Mafeking, which fired an 18-pound shell 4, 000yards. To this feat our men were incited by hearing of the magnificentweapon which had been cast by the talented workmen of Kimberley in theDe Beers workshops. In spite of there being nothing but the roughestmaterials to work with, shells were also made, and some Boer projectileswhich arrived in the town without exploding were collected, melted down, and hurled once more at our enemy. Truly, there is no such schoolmasteras necessity. 

On Sundays we continued to put away from us the cares and worries of theweek, and the Church services of the various denominations werecrowded, after an hour devoted to very necessary shopping. During thewhole siege the Sunday afternoon sports on the parade-ground were a mostpopular institution; when it was wet, amusing concerts were giveninstead at the Masonic Hall. On these occasions Colonel Baden-Powell wasthe leading spirit, as well as one of the principal artistes, anonappearing in an impromptu sketch as "Signor Paderewski, " or, again, as acoster, and holding the hall entranced or convulsed with laughter. Hewas able to assume very various rôles with "Fregoli-like" rapidity; forone evening, soon after the audience had dispersed, suddenly there wasan alarm of a night attack. Firing commenced all round the town, whichwas a most unusual occurrence for a Sunday night. In an instant the manwho had been masquerading as a buffoon was again the commanding officer, stern and alert. The tramp of many feet was heard in the streets, whichproved to be the reserve squadron of the Protectorate Regiment, summonedin haste to headquarters. A Maxim arrived, as by magic, from somewhereelse, the town guard were ordered to their places, and an A. D. C. Wassent to the hall, where a little dance for the poor overworked hospitalnurses was in full swing, abruptly to break up this pleasant gathering. It only remained for our defenders to wish the Boers would come on, instead of which the attack ended in smoke, after two hours' furiousvolleying, and by midnight all was quiet again. 

During the latter part of this tedious time Colonel Plumer and hisgallant men were but thirty miles away, having encompassed a vaststretch of dreary desert from distant Bulawayo. This force had been"under the stars" since the previous August, and had braved hardships ofheat, fever districts, and flooded rivers, added to many a brush withthe enemy. These trusty friends were only too anxious to come to ourassistance, but a river rolled between--a river composed of deepfortified trenches, of modern artillery, and of first-rate marksmen withmany Mausers. One day Colonel Plumer sent in an intrepid scout toconsult with Colonel Baden-Powell. This gentleman had a supreme contemptfor bullets, and certainly did not know the meaning of the word "fear, "but the bursting shells produced a disagreeable impression on him. "Doesit always go on like that?" he asked, when he heard the vicious hammerof the enemy's Maxim. "Yes, " somebody gloomily answered, "it always goeson like that, till at length we pretend to like it, and that we shouldfeel dull if it were silent. "

Although the soldiers in Mafeking were disposed to grumble at the smallpart they seemed to be playing in the great tussle in which England wasengaged, the authorities were satisfied that for so small a town to havekept occupied during the first critical month of the war 10, 000--and atlater stages never less than 2, 000--Boers, was in itself no smallachievement. We women always had lots to do. When the hospital work wasslack there were many Union Jacks to be made--a most intricate andtiresome occupation--and these were distributed among the various forts. We even had a competition in trimming hats, and a prize was given to thebest specimen as selected by a competent committee. In the evenings wenever failed to receive the Mafeking evening paper, and were able topuzzle our heads over its excellent acrostics, besides frequentlyindulging in a pleasant game of cards. 

In the meantime food was certainly becoming very short, and on April 3 Icabled to my sister in London as follows: "Breakfast to-day, horsesausages; lunch, minced mule, curried locusts. All well. " Occasionally Iused to be allowed a tiny white roll for breakfast, but it had to lastfor dinner too. Mr. Weil bought the last remaining turkey for £5, withthe intention of giving a feast on Her Majesty's birthday, and theprecious bird had to be kept under a Chubb's lock and key till it waskilled. No dogs or cats were safe, as the Basutos stole them all forfood. But all the while we were well aware our situation might havebeen far worse. The rains were over, the climate was glorious, fever wasfast diminishing, and, in spite of experiencing extreme boredom, we knewthat the end of the long lane was surely coming. 

CHAPTER XIII

 ELOFF'S DETERMINED ATTACK ON MAFEKING, AND THE RELIEF OF THE TOWN--THE MAFEKING FUND

 "War, war is still the cry--war even to the knife!"--BYRON. 

"The Boers are in the stadt!" Such was the ominous message that wasquickly passed round from mouth to mouth on Saturday morning, May 12, 1900, as day was breaking. One had to be well acquainted with thelabyrinth of rocks, trees, huts, and cover generally, of the localityaforementioned, all within a stone's-throw of our dwelling, to realizethe dread import of these words. 

All the previous week things had been much as usual: inferior food, andvery little of it; divine weather; "bridge" in the afternoons; and oneday exactly like another. Since the departure of the big gun during theprevious month, we had left our bomb-proofs and lived above-ground. Inthe early hours of the morning alluded to came the real event we hadbeen expecting ever since the beginning of the siege--namely, a Boerattack under cover of darkness. The moon had just set, and it waspitch-dark. A fierce fusillade first began from the east, and when Iopened the door on to the stoep the din was terrific, while swish, swish, came the bullets just beyond the canvas blinds, nailed to theedge of the verandah to keep off the sun. Now and then the boom of asmall gun varied the noise, but the rifles never ceased for an instant. To this awe-inspiring tune I dressed, by the light of a carefully shadedcandle, to avoid giving any mark for our foes. The firing never abated, and I had a sort of idea that any moment a Dutchman would look in at thedoor, for one could not tell from what side the real attack might be. Invarious stages of deshabille people were running round the house seekingfor rifles, fowling-pieces, and even sticks, as weapons of defence. Meanwhile the gloom was still unbroken, but for the starlight, and itwas very cold. The Cockney waiter, who was such a fund of amusement tome, had dashed off with his rifle to his redoubt, taking the keys of thehouse in his pocket, so no one could get into the dining-room to havecoffee, except through the kitchen window. The two hours of darknessthat had to elapse were the longest I have ever spent. Hurried footstepspassed to and fro, dark lanterns flashed for an instant, intensifyingthe blackness, and all of a sudden the sound I had been waiting foradded to the weird horror of the situation, an alarm bugle, winding outits tale, clear and true to the farthest byways and the most remoteshanties, followed by our tocsin, the deep-toned Roman Catholic Churchbell, which was the signal that a general attack was in progress. Wecaught dim glimpses of the town guard going to their appointed places inthe most orderly manner, and I remember thinking that where there was nopanic there could be but little danger. An officer of this guard camedown the road and told us all his men had turned out without exception, including an old fellow of seventy, and stone-deaf, who had been rousedby the rifle-fire, and one minus several fingers recently blown off by ashell. I went out to the front of the house facing the stadt, andtherefore sheltered from the hail of bullets coming from the east; andjust as we were noticing that objects could be discerned on the road, that before were invisible, forked tongues of lurid light shot up intothe sky in the direction where, snug and low by the Malopo River, laythe natives' habitations. Even then one did not realize what wasburning, and someone said: "What a big grass fire! It must havecommenced yesterday. " At the same moment faint cries, unmistakable forKaffir ejaculations, were borne to us by the breeze, along with thesmell of burning thatch and wood, and the dread sentence with which Icommenced this chapter seemed to grow in volume, till to one's excitedfancy it became a sort of chant, to which the yells of the blacks, theunceasing rattle of musketry, formed an unholy accompaniment. "Hark, what is that?" was a universal exclamation from the few folk, mostlywomen, standing in front of Mr. Weil's house, as a curious hoarse cheerarose--not in the stadt, half a mile away, but nearer, close by, onlythe other side of the station, where was situated the B. S. A. P. Fort, theheadquarters of the officer commanding the Protectorate Regiment. Thisso-called fort was in reality an obsolete old work of the time of SirCharles Warren's 1884 expedition, and was but slightly fortified. 

The Boers, after setting fire to the stadt, had rushed it, surprisingthe occupants; and the horrible noise of their cheering arose again andagain. Then a terrific fusillade broke out from this new direction, rendering the roadway a place of the greatest danger. My quarters wereevidently getting too hot, and I knew that Weil's house and store wouldbe the first objective of the Boers. I bethought me even novices mightbe useful in the hospital, so I decided to proceed there in one way oranother. Although the rifle-fire was slackening towards the east, fromthe fort, on the west it was continuing unabated; and the way to thehospital lay through the most open part of the town. Calling to oursoldier servant of the Royal Horse Guards to accompany me, I snatched upa few things of value and started off. "You will be shot, to acertainty, " said Mr. Weil. But it was no use waiting, as one could nottell what would happen next. The bullets were fortunately flying high;all the same, we had twice to stop under a wall and wait for a lullbefore proceeding. Then I saw a native boy fall in front of me, and atthe same moment I stumbled and fell heavily, the servant thinking I washit; and all the while we could hear frightened cries continuing toemanate from the flaming stadt. 

The day had fully broken, and never had the roads appeared so white andwide, the sheltering houses so few and far between. At length we reachedthe hospital trench, and the last 500 yards of the journey wereaccomplished in perfect safety. My dangerous experiences ended for therest of that dreadful day, which I spent in the haven of those walls, sheltering so much suffering, and that were, alas! by evening crammed totheir fullest capacity. It was a gruesome sight seeing the woundedbrought in, and the blood-stained stretchers carried away empty, whenthe occupants had been deposited in the operating-room. Sometimes anambulance waggon would arrive with four or five inmates; at others wedescried a stretcher-party moving cautiously across therecreation-ground towards us with a melancholy load. It is easy toimagine our feelings of dread and anxiety as we scanned the features ofthe new arrivals, never knowing who might be the next. During themorning three wounded Boers were brought in--the first prisonersMafeking could claim; then a native with his arm shattered to theshoulder. All were skilfully and carefully attended to by the armysurgeon and his staff in a marvellously short space of time, andcomfortably installed in bed. But the Boers begged not to have sheets, as they had never seen such things before. Among the English casualties, one case was a very sad one. A young man, named Hazelrigg, of an oldLeicestershire family, was badly shot in the region of the heart whentaking a message to the B. S. A. P. Fort, not knowing the Boers were inpossession. Smart and good-looking, he had only just been promoted tothe post of orderly from being a private in the Cape Police, into whichcorps he had previously enlisted, having failed in his army examination. When brought to the hospital, Hazelrigg had nearly bled to death, andwas dreadfully weak, his case being evidently hopeless. I sat with himseveral hours, putting eau-de-Cologne on his head and brushing away theflies. In the evening, just before he passed into unconsciousness, herepeated more than once: "Tell the Colonel, Lady Sarah, I did my bestto give the message, but they got me first. " He died at dawn. 

All through the weary hours of that perfect summer's day the riflesnever ceased firing. Sometimes a regular fusillade for ten minutes orso; then, as if tired out, sinking down to a few single shots, while thesiren-like whistle and sharp explosion of the shells from thehigh-velocity gun continued intermittently, and added to the dangers ofthe streets. So the hours dragged on. All the time the wildest rumourspervaded the air. Now the Boers had possession of the whole stadt;again, as soon as night fell, large reinforcements were to force theirway in. Of course we knew the Colonel was all the while maturing hisplans to rid the town of the unbidden guests, but what these were no onecould tell. About 8 p. M. , when we were in the depth of despair, we gotan official message to say that the Boers in the stadt had beensurrounded and taken prisoners, and also that the fort had surrenderedto Colonel Hore, who, with some of his officers, had been all day in thecurious position of captives in their own barracks. Of course ourdelight and thankfulness knew no bounds. In spite of the dead and dyingpatients, those who were slightly wounded or convalescent gave a feeblecheer, which was a pathetic sound. We further heard that the prisoners, in number about a hundred, including Commandant Eloff, their leader, were then being marched through the town to the Masonic Hall, followedby a large crowd of jeering and delighted natives. Two of the nurses andmyself ran over to look at them, and I never saw a more motley crew. Inthe dim light of a few oil-lamps they represented many nationalities, the greater part laughing, joking, and even singing, the burghersholding themselves somewhat aloof, but the whole community giving onethe idea of a body of men who knew they had got out of a tight place, and were devoutly thankful still to have whole skins. Eloff and threeprincipal officers were accommodated at Mr. Weil's house, havingpreviously dined with the Colonel and Staff. At 6 a. M. Sunday morning wewere awakened by three shells bursting close by, one after the other. Ibelieve no one was more frightened than Eloff; but he told us that itwas a preconcerted signal, and that, if they had been in possession ofthe town, they were to have answered by rifle-fire, when the Boers wouldhave marched in. These proved to be the last shells that were fired intoMafeking. 

The same morning at breakfast I sat opposite to Commandant Eloff, whowas the President's grandson, and had on my right a most polite Frenchofficer, who could not speak a word of English, Dutch, or German, so itwas difficult to understand how he made himself understood by his thencompanions-in-arms. In strong contrast to this affable and courteousgentleman was Eloff, of whom we had heard so much as a promisingTransvaal General. A typical Boer of the modern school, with curiouslyunkempt hair literally standing on end, light sandy whiskers, and asmall moustache, he was wearing a sullen and dejected expression on hisby no means stupid, but discontented and unprepossessing, face. Thisscion of the Kruger family did not scruple to air his grievances ordisclose his plans with regard to the struggle of the previous day. Thathe was brilliantly assisted by the French and German freelances was assurely demonstrated as the fact of his having been left more or less inthe lurch by his countrymen when they saw that to get into Mafeking wasone thing, but to stay there or get out of it again was quite adifferent matter. In a few words he told us, in fairly good English, howit had been posted up in the laager, "We leave for Mafeking to-night: wewill breakfast at Dixon's Hotel to-morrow morning"; how he had sent backto instruct Reuter's agent to cable the news that Mafeking had beentaken as soon as the fort was in their hands; how he had left his campwith 400 volunteers, and how, when he had counted them by the light ofthe blazing stadt, only 240 remained; moreover, that the 500 additionalmen who were to push in when the fort was taken absolutely failedhim. [34] He was also betrayed in that the arranged forward movement allround the town, which was to have taken place simultaneously with hisattack, was never made. The burghers instead contented themselves bymerely firing senseless volleys from their trenches, which constitutedall the assistance he actually received. This, and much more, he told uswith bitter emphasis, while the French officer conversed unconcernedlyin the intervals of his discourse about the African climate, theweather, and the Paris Exhibition; finally observing with heart-feltemphasis that he wished himself back once more in "La Belle France, "which he had only left two short months ago. The Dutchman, notunderstanding what he was saying, kept on the thread of his story, interrupting him without any compunction. It was one of the most curiousmeals at which I have ever assisted. That afternoon these officers wereremoved to safer quarters in gaol while a house was being prepared fortheir reception. 

As after-events proved, Eloff's attack was the

Boers' last card, which they had played when they heard of theapproaching relief column under Colonel Mahon, [35] and of his intentionto join hands with Colonel Plumer, coming from the North. After lunch, two days later, we saw clouds of dust to the south, and, frominformation to hand, we knew it must be our relievers. The whole ofMafeking spent hours on the roofs of the houses. In the meantime theBoers were very uneasy, with many horsemen coming and going, but thelaagers were not being shifted. In the late afternoon a desultory actioncommenced, which to us was desperately exciting. We could see little butshells bursting and columns of dust. One thing was certain: the Boerswere not running away, although the Colonel declared that our troops hadgained possession of the position the Boers had held, the latter havingfallen a little farther back. As the sun set came a helio-message:"Diamond Fields Horse. --All well. Good-night. " We went to dinner atseven, and just as we were sitting down I heard some feeble cheers. Thinking something must have happened, I ran to the market-square, and, seeing a dusty khaki-clad figure whose appearance was unfamiliar to me, I touched him on the shoulder, and said: "Has anyone come in?" "We havecome in, " he answered--"Major Karri-Davis and eight men of the ImperialLight Horse. " Then I saw that officer himself, and he told us that, profiting by an hour's dusk, they had ridden straight in before the moonrose, and that they were now sending back two troopers to tell thecolumn the way was clear. Their having thus pushed on at once was alucky inspiration, for, had they waited for daylight, they wouldprobably have had a hard fight, even if they had got in at all. Thisplucky column of 1, 100 men had marched nearly 300 miles in twelve days, absolutely confounding the Boers by their rapidity. 

We heard weeks afterwards how that same day of the relief of Mafekingwas celebrated in London with jubilation past belief, everyone going madwith delight. The original event in the town itself was a very tame ifimpressive affair--merely a score or so of people, singing "Rule, Britannia, " surrounding eight or nine dust-begrimed figures, eachholding a tired and jaded horse, and a few women on the outskirts of thecircle with tears of joy in their eyes. Needless to say, no one thoughtof sleep that night. At 3. 30 a. M. Someone came and fetched me in apony-cart, and we drove out to the polo-ground, where, by brilliantmoonlight, we saw the column come into camp. Strings and strings ofwaggons were soon drawn up; next to them black masses, which were theguns; and beyond these, men, lying down anywhere, dead-tired, besidetheir horses. The rest of the night I spent at the hospital, where theywere bringing in those wounded in the action of the previous afternoon. At eight o'clock we were having breakfast with Colonel Mahon, PrinceAlexander of Teck, Sir John Willoughby, and Colonel Frank Rhodes, asadditional guests. We had not seen a strange face for eight months, andcould do nothing but stare at them, and I think each one of us felt asif he or she were in a dream. Our friends told of their wonderful march, and how they had encamped one night at Setlagoli, where they had beentaken care of by Mrs. Fraser and Metelka, who had spent the night incooking for the officers, which fact had specially delighted ColonelRhodes, who told me my maid was a "charming creature. " But this pleasantconversation was interrupted by a message, saying that, as the Boerlaagers were as intact as yesterday, the artillery were going to bombardthem at once. Those of us who had leisure repaired at once to theconvent, and from there the sight that followed was worth waiting allthese many months to see. First came the splendid batteries of the RoyalHorse Artillery trotting into action, all the gunners bronzed andbearded. They were followed by the Canadian Artillery, who had joinedColonel Plumer's force, and who were that day horsed with mules out ofthe Bulawayo coach. These were galloping, and, considering the distanceall had come, both horses and mules looked wonderfully fit and well. Most of the former, with the appearance of short-tailed English hunters, were stepping gaily out. The Imperial Light Horse and the Diamond FieldsHorse, the latter distinguished by feathers in their felt hats, broughtup the procession. Everybody cheered, and not a few were deeplyaffected. Personally, ever since, when I see galloping artillery, thatmomentous morning is brought back to my mind, and I feel a chokingsensation in my throat. 

About a quarter of a mile from town the guns unlimbered, and we couldnot help feeling satisfaction at watching the shells exploding in thelaager--that laager we had watched for so many months, and had neverbeen able to touch. The Boers had evidently never expected the column tobe in the town, or they would have cleared off. We had a last glimpse ofthe tarpaulined waggons, and then the dust hid further developments fromsight. After about thirty minutes the artillery ceased firing, and asthe atmosphere cleared we saw the laager was a desert. Waggons, horses, and cattle, all had vanished. 

After their exertions of the past fortnight, Colonel Mahon did notconsider it wise to pursue the retreating Boers; but later in theafternoon I went out with others in a cart to where the laager hadbeen--the first time since December that I had driven beyond our lines. I had the new experience of seeing a "loot" in progress. First we mettwo soldiers driving a cow; then some more with bulged-out pockets fullof live fowls; natives were staggering under huge loads of food-stuffs, and eating even as they walked. I was also interested in going into thevery room where General Snyman had treated me so scurvily, and whereeverything was in terrible confusion: the floor was littered withrifles, ammunition, food-stuffs of all sorts, clothes, and letters. Amongthe latter some interesting telegrams were found, including one from thePresident, of a date three days previously, informing Snyman that thingswere most critical, and that the enemy had occupied Kroonstadt. We werejust going on to the hospital, where I had spent those weary days ofimprisonment, when an officer galloped up and begged me to return toMafeking, as some skirmishing was going to commence. It turned out that500 Boers had stopped just over the ridge to cover their retreatingwaggons, but they made no stand, and by evening were miles away. 

On Friday, May 18, the whole garrison turned out to attend athanksgiving service in an open space close to the cemetery. They weredrawn up in a three-sided square, which looked pathetically small. After the service Colonel Baden-Powell walked round and said a few wordsto each corps; then three volleys were fired over the graves of fallencomrades, and the "Last Post" was played by the buglers, followed by theNational Anthem, in which all joined. It was a simple ceremony, but avery touching one. The same afternoon Colonel Plumer's force wasinspected by the Colonel, prior to their departure for the North torepair the railway-line from Bulawayo. They were striking-looking men intheir campaigning kit, having been in the field since last August. Somewore shabby khaki jackets and trousers, others flannel shirts and longboots or putties. However attired, they were eager once more for thefray, and, moreover, looked fit for any emergency. 

The next few days were a period of intense excitement, and we wereconstantly stumbling against friends who had formed part of the reliefcolumn, but of whose presence we were totally unaware. Letters began toarrive in bulky batches, and one morning I received no less than 100, some of which bore the date of September of the year before. My time wasdivided between eagerly devouring these missives from home, sending andanswering cables (a telegraph-line to the nearest telephone-office hadbeen installed), and helping to organize a new hospital in theschool-house, to accommodate the sick and wounded belonging to ColonelMahon's force. All the while my thoughts were occupied by my return toEngland and by the question of the surest route to Cape Town. Therailway to the South could not be relaid for weeks, and, as analternative, my eyes turned longingly towards the Transvaal andPretoria. It must be remembered that we shared the general opinion that, once Lord Roberts had reached the latter town, the war would bepractically over. How wrong we all were after-events were to prove, butat the end of May, 1900, it appeared to many that to drive the 200 milesto Pretoria would be very little longer, and much more interesting, thanto trek to Kimberley, with Cape Town as the destination. Mrs. Godley (towhom I have before alluded) had arrived at Mafeking from Bulawayo, andwe agreed to make the attempt, especially as the Boers in theintervening country were reported to be giving up their arms andreturning to their farms. In the meantime it had been decided thatColonel Plumer should occupy Zeerust in the Transvaal, twenty-eightmiles from the border, while Colonel Baden-Powell and his force pushedon to Rustenburg. On May 28 Colonel Mahon and the relief column alldeparted to rejoin General Hunter in or near Lichtenburg, and Mafekingwas left with a small garrison to look after the sick and wounded. Thistown, so long a theatre of excitement to itself and of interest to theworld at large, then resumed by degrees the sleepy, even tenor of itsways, which had been so rudely disturbed eight months before. 

FOOTNOTES:

[34] Later on, when I was at Zeerust, I met a telegraph clerk who hadthen been in the employ of the Boers, and he told me how indignant allwere with General Snyman for deserting Eloff on that occasion. When oneof the _Veldtcornets_ went and begged his permission to collectvolunteers as reinforcements, all the General did was to scratch hishead and murmur in Dutch, "Morro is nocher dag" (To-morrow is anotherday). 

[35] Now Major-General Mahon. 

CHAPTER XIV

 ACROSS THE TRANSVAAL TO PRETORIA DURING THE WAR

 "There never was a good war or a bad peace. "--BENJAMIN FRANKLIN. 

On Sunday morning, June 4, we packed into a Cape cart, with four siegehorses in fair condition, and started to drive to Zeerust. It was aglorious day of blue skies and bright sun, with just enough breeze toprevent the noonday from being too hot. As we left Mafeking and itsoutworks behind, I had a curious feeling of regret and of gratitude tothe gallant little town and its stout citizens: to the former for havingbeen a haven in the midst of fierce storms during all these months; tothe latter for their stout arms and their brave hearts, which had wardedoff the outbursts of the same tempests, whose clouds had hung dark andlowering on our horizon since the previous October. We also experienceda wonderful feeling of relief and freedom at being able to drive at willover the very roads which we had seen covered by Boer waggons, burghers, and guns, and, needless to say, we marked with interest thelines of their forts, so terribly near our little town. We noted thefarmhouse lately the headquarters of General Snyman, standing naked andalone. Formerly surrounded by a flourishing orchard and a carefullytended garden, it was now the picture of desolation. The ground wastrampled by many feet of men and horses; straw, forage, packing-cases, and rubbish of all kinds, were strewn about, and absolutely hid the soilfrom view. Away on the hill beyond I spied the tiny house and hospitalwhere I had spent six weary nights and days; and between these twobuildings a patch of bare ground nearly half a mile square, indescribably filthy, had been the site of the white-hooded waggons andragged tents of the laager itself. The road was of no interest, merelyrolling veldt with a very few scattered farmhouses, apparently deserted;but one noticed that rough attempts had been made in the way ofirrigation, and that, as one approached the Transvaal, pools of waterwere frequently to be seen. 

A shallow ditch was pointed out to us by the driver, as the boundarybetween Her Majesty's colony and the South African Republic, and afteranother eight or ten miles we saw a few white roofs and trees, whichproved to be Otto's Hoep, in the Malmani Gold District, from whichlocality great things had been hoped in bygone days, before the Randwas ever thought of. At the tiny hotel we found several officers and menof the Imperial Light Horse, who, warned by a telephone message fromMafeking, had ordered us an excellent hot lunch. The proprietor, ofGerman origin, could do nothing but stare at us while we were eating themeal, apparently amazed at finding his house reopened after so manymonths of inactivity, and that people were actually prepared to pay forwhat they had. We soon pushed on again, and just after leaving the hotela sharp turn brought us to a really wide river, close to where theImperial Light Horse were encamped. Our driver turned the horses' headstowards it, and without any misgivings we plunged in. The water grewdeeper and deeper, and our thoughts flew to our portmanteaus, tied onbehind, which were practically submerged. Just then the leaders took itinto their heads they preferred not to go any farther, and forthwithturned round and faced us. The black coachman, however, did not lose hishead, but pulled the wheelers round also, and we soon found ourselvesagain on the same bank from which we had started. Had it not been for akind trooper of the Imperial Light Horse, our chances of getting acrosswould have been nil. This friend in need mounted a loose horse, andsucceeded in coaxing and dragging our recalcitrant leaders, and forcingthem to face the rushing stream. Once again our portmanteaus had a coldbath, but this time we made a successful crossing, and went gaily on ourway. The road was now much improved and the country exceedingly pretty. Many snug little houses, sheltered by rows of cypress, tall eucalyptusand huge orange-trees laden with yellow fruit, their gardens intersectedby running brooks, appeared on all sides; while in the distance rose arange of blue hills, at the foot of which we could perceive the roofs ofZeerust. 

As the sun was almost sinking, clouds of dust arose on the road infront, denoting a large body of men or waggons moving. A few weeks--nay, days--ago these would have been a burgher commando; now we knew theywere our friends, and presently we met Major Weston Jarvis and hisdust-begrimed squadron of the Rhodesian Regiment, followed by a largenumber of transport waggons, driven cattle, and donkeys. This livingtestimony that war was still present in the land only disturbed thepeaceful evening landscape till the long line of dust had disappeared;then all was stillness and beauty once more. The young moon came out, the stars twinkled in the dark blue heavens, and suddenly, below the dimrange of hills, shone first one light and then another; while away tothe left, on higher ground, camp-fires, softened by a halo of whitesmoke, came into view. The scene was very picturesque. No cloudobscured the star-bespangled sky or the crescent of the Queen of theNight. Still far away, the lights of the little town were a beacon toguide us. The noise and cries of the camp were carried to us on thegentlest of night breezes, and, to complete the calm beauty of thesurroundings, the deep, slow chime of a church-bell struck our ears. 

We had reached our destination, and were in a few minutes drivingthrough the quiet little street, pulling up in front of the CentralHotel, kept by a colonial Englishman and his wife. The former had beencommandeered twice during the war, but he hastened to assure us that, though he had been at the laager, and even in the trenches beforeMafeking, he had never let off his rifle, and had given it up with greatpleasure to the English only the day before. This old-fashioned hostelrywas very comfortable and commodious, with excellent cooking, but it wasnot till the next day that we realized how pretty was the town ofZeerust, and how charmingly situated. The houses, standing back from thewide road, were surrounded by neat little gardens and rows of cypresses. Looking down the main street, in either direction, were purple, tree-covered hills. A stream wound its way across one end of thehighway, and teams of sleepy fat oxen with bells completed the illusionthat we had suddenly been transported into a town of Northern Italy orof the Lower Engadine. However, other circumstances contributed to giveit an air of depression and sadness. On the stoeps of the houses weregathered groups of Dutch women and girls, many of them in deep mourning, and all looking very miserable, gazing at us with unfriendly eyes. Fine-looking but shabbily-clad men were to be met carrying their riflesand bandoliers to the Landrost's late office, now occupied by ColonelPlumer and his Staff. Sometimes they were leading a rough-coated, ill-fed pony, in many cases their one ewe lamb, which might or might notbe required for Her Majesty's troops. They walked slowly and dejectedly, though some took off their hats and gave one a rough "Good-day. " Most ofthem had their eyes on the ground and a look of mute despair. Others, again, looked quite jolly and friendly, calling out a cheery greeting, for all at that time thought the war was really over. I was told thatwhat caused them surprise and despair was the fact of their animalsbeing required by the English: "requisitioned" was the term used whenthe owner was on his farm, which meant that he would receive payment forthe property, and was given a receipt to that effect; "confiscated, "when the burgher was found absent, which signified he was still oncommando. Even in the former case he gave up his property sadly andreluctantly, amid the tears and groans of his wife and children, for, judging by the ways of his own Government, they never expected the paperreceipt would produce any recognition. Many of the cases of these poorburghers seemed indeed very hard, for it must be remembered that duringthe past months of the war all their things had been used by their ownGovernment for the patriotic cause, and what still remained to them wasthen being appropriated by the English. All along they had been misledand misinformed, for none of their leaders ever hinted there could bebut one end to the war--namely, the decisive success of the TransvaalRepublic. It made it easy to realize the enormous difficulties that wereconnected with what was airily talked of as the "pacification of thecountry, " and that those English officers who laboured then, and formany months afterwards, at this task had just as colossal and arduous anundertaking as the soldiers under Lord Roberts, who had gloriously cuttheir way to Johannesburg and Pretoria. Someone said to me in Zeerust:"When the English have reached Pretoria their difficulties will onlybegin. " In the heyday of our Relief, and with news of English victoriesconstantly coming to hand, I thought this gentleman a pessimist; but thesubsequent history of the war, and the many weary months following theconclusion of peace, proved there was much truth in the above statement. 

Two days later we heard that Lord Roberts had made his formal entry intoPretoria on June 5, but our journey thither did not proceed as smoothlyas we had hoped. We chartered a Cape cart and an excellent pair of greyhorses, and made our first attempt to reach Pretoria via the lead-mines, the same route taken by Dr. Jameson and the Raiders. Here we received acheck in the shape of a letter from General Baden-Powell requesting usnot to proceed, as he had received information that Lord Roberts's lineof communication had been temporarily interrupted. The weather hadturned exceedingly wet and cold, like an English March or late autumn, and after two days of inactivity in a damp and gloomy Dutch farmhouse wewere perforce obliged to return to our original starting-point, Zeerust. A few days later we heard that Colonel Baden-Powell had occupiedRustenburg, and that the country between there and Pretoriawas clear; so we decided to make a fresh start, and this time to takethe northern and more mountainous route. We drove through a very prettycountry, with many trees and groves of splendid oranges, and we crossedhighly cultivated valleys, with numerous farms dotted about. All thosewe met described themselves as delighted at what they termed the closeof the war, and gave us a rough salutation as we went on our way, aftera friendly chat. Presently we passed an open trolley with a hugered-cross flag flying, but which appeared to contain nothing but privateluggage, and was followed by a man, evidently a doctor, driving aone-horse buggy, and wearing an enormous red-cross badge on his hat. Atmidday we outspanned to rest the horses and eat our lunch, and in theafternoon we crossed the great Marico River, where was situated adeserted and ruined hotel and store. The road then became so bad thatthe pace of our horses scarcely reached five miles an hour, and toobtain shelter we had to reach Eland's River before it became quitedark. A very steep hill had to be climbed, which took us over theshoulder of the chain of hills, and rumbling slowly down the other side, with groaning brake and stumbling steeds, we met a typical Dutch family, evidently trekking back from the laager in a heavy ox waggon. Thesad-looking mother, with three or four children in ragged clothes, wassitting inside; the father and the eldest boy were walking beside theoxen. Their apparent misery was depressing, added to which the day, which all along had been cold and dismal, now began to close in, and, what was worse, rain began to fall, which soon grew to be a regulardownpour. At last we could hardly see our grey horses, and every momentI expected we should drive into one of the many pitfalls in the shape ofbig black holes with which the roads in this part of the Transvaalabounded, and a near acquaintance with any one of these would certainlyhave upset the cart. At last we saw twinkling lights, but we first hadto plunge down another river-bed and ascend a precipitous incline up theopposite bank. Our horses were by now very tired, and for one moment itseemed to hang in the balance whether we should roll back into the wateror gain the top. The good animals, however, responded to the whip, plunged forward, and finally pulled up at a house dimly outlined in thegloom. In response to our call, a dripping sentry peered out, and toldus it was, as we hoped, Wolhuter's store, and that he would call theproprietor. Many minutes elapsed, during which intense stillnessprevailed, seeming to emphasize how desolate a spot we had reached, andbroken only by the splash of the heavy rain. Then the door opened, and aman appeared to be coming at last, only to disappear again in order tofetch coat and umbrella. Eventually it turned out the owner of the housewas a miller, by birth a German, and this gentleman very kindly gave usa night's hospitality. He certainly had not expected visitors, and ittook some time to allay his suspicions as to who we were and what wasour business. Accustomed to the universal hospitality in South Africa, I was somewhat surprised at the hesitation he showed in asking us intohis house, and when we were admitted he claimed indulgence for anyshortcomings by saying his children were ill. We assured him we shouldgive no trouble, and we were so wet and cold that any roof and shelterwere a godsend. Just as I was going to bed, my maid came and told methat, from a conversation she had had with the Kaffir girl, who seemedto be the only domestic, she gathered that two children were sufferingfrom an infectious disease, which, in the absence of any medical man, they had diagnosed as smallpox. To proceed on our journey was out of thequestion, but it may be imagined that we left next morning at the veryearliest hour possible. 

This very district round Eland's River was later the scene of muchfighting, and it was there a few months afterwards that De la Reysurrounded an English force, who were only rescued in the nick of timeby the arrival of Lord Kitchener. At the date of our visit, however, allwas peaceful, and, but for a few burghers riding in haste to surrendertheir arms, not a trace of the enemy was to be seen. 

The next day we reached Rustenburg, where we stayed the night, andlearnt that General Baden-Powell and his Staff had left there forPretoria, to confer with Lord Roberts. Our gallant grey horses werestanding the strain well, and the worst roads as well as the mostmountainous country were then behind us; so, without delay, we continuedon the morrow, spending the third night at a storekeeper's house atSterkstrom. Towards the evening of the fourth day after leaving Zeerust, we entered a long wide valley, and by degrees overtook vehicles of manylands, wearied pedestrians, and horsemen--in fact, the inevitablestragglers denoting the vicinity of a vast army. The valley was enclosedby moderately high hills, and from their summits we watched heliomessages passing to and fro during all that beautiful afternoon, whilewe slowly accomplished the last, but seemingly endless, miles of ourtedious drive. At 5 p. M. We crawled into the suburbs of the Boercapital, having driven 135 miles with the same horses. The descriptionof Pretoria under British occupation, and the friends we met there, Imust leave to another chapter. 

CHAPTER XV

 PRETORIA AND JOHANNESBURG UNDER LORD ROBERTS AND MILITARY LAW

 "With malice to none ... With firmness in the right, as God gives us to see the right, let us finish the work we are in. "--ABRAHAM LINCOLN. 

At Pretoria Mrs. Godley and I found accommodation, not without somedifficulty, at the Grand Hotel. Turned for the moment into a sort ofhuge barrack, this was crowded to its utmost capacity. The politemanager, in his endeavour to find us suitable rooms, conducted us allover the spacious building, and at last, struck by a bright thought, threw open the door of an apartment which he said would be free in a fewhours, as the gentleman occupying it was packing up his belongingspreparatory to his departure. Great was my surprise at discovering inthe khaki-clad figure, thus unceremoniously disturbed in the occupationof stowing away papers, clothes, and campaigning kit generally, no lessa personage than my nephew, Winston Churchill, who had experienced suchthrilling adventures during the war, the accounts of which had reachedus even in far-away Mafeking. The proprietor was equally amazed to seeme warmly greet the owner of the rooms he proposed to allot us, and, although Winston postponed his departure for another twenty-four hours, he gladly gave up part of his suite for our use, and everything wassatisfactorily arranged. 

Good-looking figures in khaki swarmed all over the hotel, and friendsturned up every minute--bearded pards, at whom one had to look twicebefore recognizing old acquaintances. No less than a hundred officerswere dining that night in the large restaurant. Between the newlyliberated prisoners and those who had taken part in the victorious marchof Lord Roberts's army one heard surprised greetings such as these:"Hallo, old chap! where were you caught?" or a late-comer would arrivewith the remark: "There has been firing along the outposts all day. Isuppose the beggars have come back. " (I was relieved to hear theoutposts were twelve miles out. ) The whole scene was like an act in aDrury Lane drama, and we strangers seemed to be the appreciativeaudience. Accustomed as we were to a very limited circle, it appeared tous as if all the inhabitants of England had been transported toPretoria. 

Early next day we drove out to see the departure of GeneralBaden-Powell[36] and his Staff, who had been most warmly received byLord Roberts, and who, after receiving his orders, were leaving torejoin their men at Rustenburg. As an additional mark of favour, theCommander-in-Chief and his retinue gave the defender of Mafeking aspecial send-off, riding with him and his officers some distance out ofthe town. This procession was quite an imposing sight, and was precededby a company of turbaned Indians. Presently, riding alongside of GeneralBaden-Powell, on a small, well-bred Arab, came the hero of a thousandfights, the man who at an advanced age, and already crowned with so manylaurels, had, in spite of a crushing bereavement, stepped forward tohelp his country in the hour of need. We were delighted when this man ofthe moment stopped to speak to us. He certainly seemed surprised at theapparition of two ladies, and observed that we were very daring, and thefirst of our sex to come in. I shall, however, never forget how kindlyhe spoke nor the inexpressible sadness of his face. I told him how quieteverything appeared to be along the road we had taken, and how civilwere all the Boers we had met. At this he turned to the guest whosedeparture he was speeding, and said, with a grave smile, "That isthanks to you, General. " And then the cortege rode on. On reflection, Idecided, rather from what Lord Roberts had left unsaid than from hisactual words, that if we had asked leave to travel home via Pretoria, itwould have been refused. 

The rest of that day and the next we spent in seeing the town under itsnew auspices, and it certainly presented far more to interest a visitorthan on the occasion of my last visit in 1896. In a suburb known asSunny Side was situated Lord Roberts's headquarters, at a house known asthe Residency. Close by was a charming villa inhabited for the nonce byGeneral Brabazon, Lord Dudley, Mr. John Ward, and Captain W. Bagot. Thesurroundings of these dwellings were exceedingly pretty, with shadytrees, many streams, and a background of high hills crowned by forts, which latter were just visible to the naked eye. From Sunny Side we wereconducted over some of these fortifications: there was Schantz's KopFort, of very recent construction, and looking to the uninitiated oftremendous strength, with roomy bomb-proof shelters. Here a corner ofone of the massive entrance pillars had been sharply severed off by aBritish lyddite shell. Later we inspected Kapper Kop Fort, the highestof all, where two British howitzer guns, firing a 280-pound shell, hadfound a resting-place. Surrounded by a moat with a drawbridge, the viewfrom this fort was magnificent. The Boers were in the act of making adouble-wire entanglement round it, and had evidently meant to offerthere a stubborn resistance, when more prudent counsels prevailed, andthey had left their work half finished, and decamped, carrying off alltheir ammunition. In the town itself General French and his Staff hadestablished themselves at the Netherlands Club, from which resort themembers had been politely ejected. 

To outward appearances, civil as well as military business was beingtransacted in Pretoria with perfect smoothness, in spite of theproximity of the enemy. The yeomanry were acting as police both thereand in Johannesburg. The gaol, of which we had a glimpse, was crowdedwith 240 prisoners, but was under the competent direction of the usualEnglish under-official, who had been in the service of the Transvaal, and who had quietly stepped into the shoes of his chief, a Dutchman, when the latter bolted with Kruger. This prison was where the Raidersand the Reformers had been in durance vile, and the gallows were pointedout to us with the remark that, during the last ten years, they had onlybeen once used, their victim being an Englishman. A Dutchman, who hadbeen condemned to death during the same period for killing his wife, hadbeen reprieved. 

In the same way the Natal Bank and the Transvaal National Bank werebeing supervised by their permanent officials, men who had been at theirposts during the war, and who, although under some suspicions, had notbeen removed. At the latter bank the manager told us how PresidentKruger had sent his Attorney-General to fetch the gold in coins and barjust before he left for Delagoa Bay, and how it was taken away on atrolley. The astute President actually cheated his people of thisbullion, as he had already forced them to accept paper tokens for thegold, which he then acquired and removed. We also saw the RaadSaals--especially interesting from being exactly as they were left afterthe last session on May 7--Kruger's private room, and the CouncilChamber. These latter were fine apartments, recently upholstered byMaple, and littered with papers, showing every evidence of the hurrieddeparture of their occupants. Finally, specially conducted by Winston, we inspected the so-called "Bird-cage, " where all the English officershad been imprisoned, and the "Staat Model" School, from where ourcicerone had made his escape. These quarters must have been aparticularly disagreeable and inadequate residence. 

After a day in Pretoria we realized that, in spite of the shops beingopen and the hotels doing a roaring trade, notwithstanding themarvellous organization visible on all sides, events were notaltogether satisfactory; and one noted that the faces of those behindthe scenes were grave and serious. Louis Botha, it was evident, wasanything but a defeated foe. This gentleman had actually been in thecapital when the English entered, and he was then only sixteen milesaway. During the previous week a severe action had been fought with himat Diamond Hill, where the English casualties had been very heavy. Theaccounts of this engagement, as then related, had a touch oforiginality. The Commander-in-Chief and Staff went out in a specialtrain, sending their horses by road, which reminded one forcibly of aday's hunting; cab-drivers in the town asked pedestrians if they wouldlike to drive out and see the fight. The real affair, however, was grimearnest, and many were the gallant men who lost their lives on thatoccasion. All the while De Wet was enjoying himself to the south byconstantly interrupting the traffic on the railway. No wonder theGenerals were careworn, and it was a relief to meet Lord Stanley, [37]A. D. C. To Lord Roberts, with a smiling face, who, with his unfailingspirits, must have been an invaluable companion to his chief duringthose trying weeks. One specially sad feature was the enormous number ofsick in addition to wounded soldiers. 

Of the former, at that time, there were over 1, 500, and therecollection of the large numbers buried at Bloemfontein was still greenin everyone's memory. The origin of all the sickness, principallyenteric, was undoubtedly due to the Paardeberg water in the firstinstance, and then to that used at Bloemfontein; for Pretoria wasperfectly healthy--the climate cool, if rainy, and the water-supplyeverything that could be desired. As additional accommodation for thesepatients, the magnificent and recently finished Law Courts had beenarranged to hold seven or eight hundred beds. Superintended by SirWilliam Thompson, this improvised establishment was attended to by thepersonnel of the Irish hospital, and Mr. Guinness was there himself, organizing their work and doing excellent service. 

One evening we were most hospitably entertained to dinner by LordStanley, Captain Fortescue, the Duke of Westminster, and Winston. As itmay be imagined, we heard many interesting details of the past stages ofthe war. Winston, even at that early stage of his career, and althoughhe had been but a short time, comparatively, with Lord Roberts's force, had contrived therein to acquire influence and authority. The "bosses, "doubtless, disapproved of his free utterances, but he was neverthelessmost amusing to listen to, and a general favourite. The next day we sawhim and the Duke of Westminster off on their way South, and havingfixed my own departure for the following Monday, and seen most of thesights, I determined to avail myself of an invitation Captain Laycock, A. D. C. To General French, had given me, and go to the Netherlands Clubin order to peruse the goodly supply of newspapers and periodicals ofwhich they were the proud possessors. It was a cold, windy afternoon, and, finding the front-door locked and no bell visible, I went to one ofthe long French windows at the side of the house, through which I couldsee a cozy fire glimmering. Perceiving a gentleman sitting in front ofthe inviting blaze, I knocked sharply to gain admittance. On nearerinspection this gentleman proved to be asleep, and it was some minutesbefore he got up and revealed himself as a middle-aged man, stronglybuilt, with slightly grey hair. For some unknown reason I imagined himto be a Major in a cavalry regiment, no doubt attached to the Staff, andwhen, after rubbing his eyes, he at length opened the window, Iapologized perfunctorily for having disturbed him, adding that I wasacting on Captain Laycock's suggestion in coming there. In my heart Ihoped he would leave me to the undisturbed perusal of the literaturewhich I saw on a large centre table. He showed, however, no signs oftaking his departure, and made himself so agreeable that I was perforceobliged to continue the conversation he commenced. I told him of theMafeking siege, giving him my opinion of the Boers as opponents and oftheir peculiarities as we had experienced them; also of how, in the westand north, the enemy seemed to have practically disappeared. Presently, by way of politeness, I asked him in what part of the country, and underwhich General, he had been fighting. He answered evasively that he hadbeen knocking about, under several commanders, pretty well all over theplace, which reply left me more mystified than ever. Soon CaptainLaycock came in, and after a little more talk, during which I could seethat he and my new acquaintance were on the best of terms, the latterwent out, expressing a hope I should stay to tea, which I thoughtexceedingly kind of him, but scarcely necessary, as I was CaptainLaycock's guest. When he had gone, I questioned the latter as to theidentity of his friend, and was horrified to learn that it was GeneralFrench himself whom I had so unceremoniously disturbed, and to whom Ihad volunteered information. When the General returned with some more ofhis Staff, including Lord Brooke, Colonel Douglas Haig, [38] Mr. BrinsleyFitzgerald, and Mr. Brinton, 2nd Life Guards, [39] I was profuse in myapologies, which he promptly cut short by asking me to make the tea, andwe had a most cheery meal, interspersed with a good deal of chaff, oneof his friends remarking to me that it was probably the only occasionduring the last six months in South Africa that General French had beencaught asleep. 

The following day, Sunday, we attended a very impressive militaryservice, at which Lord Roberts and his Staff, in full uniform, werepresent, and at the conclusion the whole congregation sang the NationalAnthem with the organ accompaniment. The volume of sound, together withthe well-loved tune, was one not soon to be forgotten. 

In the evening I had a visit from a stranger, who announced himself tobe Mr. Barnes, correspondent to the _Daily Mail_. This gentleman handedme a letter from my sister, Lady Georgiana Curzon, dated Christmas Dayof the previous year, which had at last reached me under peculiarcircumstances. It appeared that, when my resourceful sister heard I hadbeen taken prisoner by the Boers, she decided the best way ofcommunicating with me would be through the President of the SouthAfrican Republic, via Delagoa Bay. She had therefore written him aletter as follows:

 "_Christmas Day, 1899. _

 "Lady Georgiana Curzon presents her compliments to His Honour President Kruger, and would be very much obliged if he would give orders that the enclosed letter should be forwarded to her sister, Lady Sarah Wilson, who, according to the latest reports, has been taken prisoner by General Snyman. "

In this letter was enclosed the one now handed to me by Mr. Barnes. ThePresident, in the novel experience of receiving a letter from an Englishlady, had sent for the American Consul, and had handed him both epistleswithout a remark of any kind, beyond asking him to deal with them. Thusthe missive finally reached its destination. This visitor had hardlydeparted when another was announced in the person of a Dr. Scholtz, whom, with his wife, I had met at Groot Schuurr as Mr. Rhodes's friends. This gentleman, who is since dead, had always seemed to me somewhat ofan enigmatical personage. German by origin, he combined strongsympathies with the Boers and fervent Imperialism, and I was thereforealways a little doubtful as to his real sentiments. He came very kindlyon this occasion to pay a friendly call, but also to inform me that hewas playing a prominent part in the abortive peace negotiations which atthat stage of the war were being freely talked about. Whether he hadacted on his own initiative, or whether he had actually been employed bythe authorities, he did not state; but he seemed to be full ofimportance, and proud of the fact that he had spent two hours only a fewdays before on a kopje in conference with Louis Botha, while the samekopje was being energetically shelled by the English. He gave me, indeed, to understand that the successful issue of the interview haddepended entirely on the amount the English Government was prepared topay, and that another £2, 000, 000 would have ended the war then andthere. He probably did not enjoy the full confidence of either side, andI never verified the truth of his statements, which were as strange andmysterious as the man himself, whom, as events turned out, I never sawagain. 

It had been difficult to reach Pretoria, but the departure therefrom wasattended by many formalities, and I had to provide myself, amongst otherpermits, with a railway pass, which ran as follows:

 RAILWAY PASSES. 

 The bearer, Lady Sarah. Wilson (and maid) is permitted to travel at her own expense from Pretoria to Cape Town via the Vaal River. 

 O. S. NUGENT, Major, Provost Marshal (For Major-General, Military Governor of Pretoria). 

 To R. S. O. Pretoria _June 25, 1900. _

Everything being then pronounced in order, I said good-bye to Mrs. Godley, who was returning by road to Zeerust and Mafeking, and, accompanied by Captain Seymour Fortescue, who had a few days' leave, andby Major Bobby White, I left on June 25 for Johannesburg. The train waspainfully slow, and rarely attained a speed of more than five or sixmiles an hour. At Elandsfontein the engine gave out entirely, and a longdelay ensued while another was being procured. At all the stations weresmall camps and pickets of bronzed and bearded soldiers, and on theplatforms could be seen many officers newly arrived from England, distinguished by their brand-new uniforms, nearly all carrying theinevitable Kodak. At length we arrived at Johannesburg as the daylightwas fading, and found excellent accommodation at Heath's Hotel. In the"Golden City, " as at Pretoria, the shops were open, and seemedwonderfully well supplied, butter and cigarettes being the only itemsthat were lacking. I remember lunching the next day at a grill-room, called Frascati's, underground, where the cuisine was first-rate, andwhich was crowded with civilians of many nationalities, soldiers notbeing in such prominence as at Pretoria. The afternoon we devoted toseeing some of the principal mines, including the Ferreira Deep, whichhad been worked by the Transvaal Government for the last eight months. For this purpose they had engaged capable managers from France andGermany, and therefore the machinery was in no way damaged. At adinner-party the same evening, given by Mr. A. Goldmann, we met a Germangentleman who gave an amusing account of the way in which some of thecity financiers had dashed off to the small banks a few days before LordRoberts's entry, when the report was rife that Kruger was going toseize all the gold at Johannesburg as well as that at Pretoria. Theywere soon seen emerging with bags of sovereigns on their backs, whichthey first carried to the National Bank, but which, on second thoughts, they reclaimed again, finally confiding their treasure to the Banque dela France. 

FOOTNOTES:

[36] Colonel Baden-Powell had been promoted to the rank ofMajor-General. 

[37] Now Earl of Derby. 

[38] Now Major-General Haig. 

[39] Now Major Brinton. 

CHAPTER XVI

 MY RETURN TO CIVILIZATION ONCE MORE--THE MAFEKING FUND--LETTERS FROM THE KING AND QUEEN

 "Let us admit it fairly, As business people should, We have had no end of a lesson: It will do us no end of good. " KIPLING. 

On June 27 I left Johannesburg under the escort of Major Bobby White, who had kindly promised to see me safely as far as Cape Town. Wetravelled in a shabby third-class carriage, the only one on the train, which was merely composed of open trucks. Our first long delay was atElandsfontein, practically still in the Rand District. There the officerin charge came up with the pleasing intelligence that the train we wereto join had broken down, and would certainly be four hours late; so wehad to get through a very weary wait at this most unattractive littletownship, whose only interesting features were the distant chimneys andunsightly shafts of the Simmer and Jack and the Rose Deep Mines, and faraway, on the horizon, the little white house, amid a grove of trees, which had been Lord Roberts's headquarters barely a month ago, and fromwhich he had sent the summons to Johannesburg to surrender. All around, indeed, was the scene of recent fighting, and various polite transportofficers tried to while away the tedium of our enforced delay bypointing out various faint ridges, and explaining that _there_ theGordons had made their splendid charge, or, again, that farther backGeneral French had encountered such a stubborn resistance, and so on, _ad libitum_. In response I gazed with enthusiastic interest, but theflat, hideous country, which guards its deeply buried treasure soclosely, seemed so alike in every direction, and the operations of thevictorious army covered so wide an area, that it was difficult to make abrain picture of that rapid succession of feats of arms. At the stationitself the "Tommys" buzzed about like bees, and the officers were havingtea or dinner, or both combined, in the refreshment-room. One overheardscraps of conversation, from a subaltern to his superior officer: "Acapital bag to-day, sir. Forty Mausers and ten thousand rounds ofammunition. " Then someone else remarked that a railway-train from theSouth passed yesterday, riddled with bullets, and recounted themarvellous escape its occupants had had, which was not encouraging inview of our intended journey over the same route. A young man inuniform presently entered with a limp, and, in answer to inquiries, saidhis wounded leg was doing famously, adding that the bullet had takenexactly the same course as the one did not six weeks ago--only then ithad affected the other knee; "so I knew how to treat it, and I am off tothe Yeomanry Hospital, if they will have me. I only left there afortnight ago, and, by Jove! it was like leaving Paradise!" Anotherarrival came along saying the Boers had received a proper punishing fortheir last depredations on the railway, when De Wet had brought off hiscrowning _coup_ by destroying the mail-bags. But this gentleman hadhardly finished his tale when a decided stir was observable, and weheard a wire was to hand saying the same De Wet was again on the move, and that a strong force of men and guns were to leave for the scene ofaction by our train to-night. At this juncture, seeing there was noprospect of any immediate departure, I installed myself comfortably witha book in the waiting-room, and was so absorbed that I did not evennotice the arrival of a train from Heidelberg, till the door opened, andmy nephew, the Duke of Marlborough, looked in, and we exchanged asurprised greeting, being totally unaware of each other's whereabouts. Except for meeting Winston in Pretoria, I had not seen the face of oneof my relations for more than a year, but so many surprising thingshappen in wartime that we did not evince any great astonishment at thisstrange and unexpected meeting. In answer to my inquiries as to whatbrought him there, he told me he was returning to Pretoria with histemporarily incapacitated chief, General Ian Hamilton, who was sufferingfrom a broken collar-bone, incurred by a fall from his horse. Expectingto find the General in a smart ambulance carriage, it was somewhat of ashock to be guided to a very dilapidated old cattle-truck, with opensides and a floor covered with hay. I peeped in, and extended on a roughcouch in the farther corner, I perceived the successful General, whosename was in everybody's mouth. In spite of his unlucky accident, he wasfull of life and spirits, and we had quite a long conversation. I havesince often told him how interesting was his appearance, and he, inreply, has assured me how much he was impressed by a blue bird's-eyecotton dress I was wearing, the like of which he had not seen since heleft England, many months before. His train soon rumbled on, and then wehad a snug little dinner in the ladies' waiting-room that theStation-Commandant, a gallant and hospitable Major, had made gay withtrophies, photographs, and coloured pictures out of various journals. From a deep recess under his bed he produced an excellent bottle ofclaret, and the rest of the dinner was supplied from the restaurant. 

The short African winter's day had faded into a blue and luminous night, resplendent with stars, and still our belated train tarried. However, the situation was improved, for later advices stated that the Boers hadcleared off from the vicinity of the railway-line, and that we shouldsurely leave before midnight. All these rumours certainly added to theexcitement of a railway-journey, and it occurred to me how tame incomparison would be the ordinary departure of the "Flying Scotsman, " orany other of the same tribe that nightly leave the great London termini. 

At length, with many a puff and agonized groan from the poor littleundersized engine, we departed into the dim, mysterious night, whichhourly became more chill, and which promised a sharp frost beforemorning. As we crawled out of the station, our kind military friendssaluted, and wished us, a little ironically, a pleasant journey. When Iwas about to seek repose, Major White looked in, and said: "Sleep withyour head away from the window, in case of a stray shot"; and then Iturned down the light, and was soon in the land of dreams. 

The much-dreaded night passed quite quietly, and in the morning thecarriage windows were thickly coated with several degrees of frost. Theengines of the Netherlands Railway, always small and weak, were at thattime so dirty from neglect and overpressure during the war, that theirpace was but a slow crawl, and uphill they almost died away to nothing. However, fortunately, going south meant going downhill, and we made goodprogress over the flat uninteresting country, which, in view of recentevents, proved worthy of careful attention. Already melancholy landmarksof the march of the great army lay on each side of the line in the shapeof carcasses of horses, mules, and oxen. Wolvehoek was the first stop. Here blue-nosed soldiers descended from the railway-carriages in variedand weird costumes, making a rush with their billies[40] for hot water, wherewith to cook their morning coffee, cheerily laughing and crackingtheir jokes, while shivering natives in blankets and tattered overcoatswaited hungrily about for a job or scraps of food. After leavingWolvehoek, we entered on Commandant De Wet's hunting-ground and thescene of his recent exploits. There, at almost every culvert, at everyganger's house, were pickets of soldiers, all gathered round a cracklingfire at that chill morning hour; and at every one of these posts freshlyconstructed works of sandbags and deep trenches were in evidence todenote that their sentry work was no play, but grim earnest. 

We next crossed the Rhenoster Spruit, and passed the then famousRhenoster position, so formidable even to the unskilled eye, and wheremy military friends told me the Boers would have given much trouble, hadit not been for the two outspread wings of the Commander-in-Chief'sarmy. A little farther on, the deviation line and the railway-bridgewere pointed out as one of the many triumphs of engineering skill to beseen and marvelled at on that recently restored line. The achievementsof these lion-hearted engineers could not fail to impress themselveseven on a civilian. Many amongst them were volunteers, who hadpreviously occupied brilliant positions in the great mining community inJohannesburg, and whose brains were the pride of a circle whereintellectual achievements and persevering resource commanded at once thegreatest respect and the highest remuneration. Some of these latter hadfamily ties besides their considerable positions, but they gladlyhastened to place their valuable services at the disposal of theirQueen, and, in conjunction with the regular Royal Engineers, weredestined to find glory, and in many cases death, at their perilous work. The task of the engineers is probably scarcely realized by people whohave not seen actual warfare. We do not read so frequently of theirdoings as of those of their gallant colleagues on foot or on horse; butsoldiers know that neither the genius of the Generals nor theintrepidity of the men could avail without them; and as the scouts arecalled the eyes, so might the engineers, both regular and volunteer, betermed the hands and feet, of an advancing force. The host sweeps on, and the workers are left with pickaxe and shovel, rifles close at hand, to work at their laborious task loyally and patiently, while deeds ofcourage and daring are being done and applauded not many miles away fromthem. This particular Rhenoster bridge was destroyed and rebuilt no lessthan three times up to the date of which I write, and the third time wasonly ten days previously, when Christian De Wet had also worked havocamong the mail-bags, the only cruel thing attributed to that commander, respected both by friends and foes. The sad, dumb testimony of thislamented misfortune was to be seen in the shape of thousands ofmutilated envelopes and torn letters which covered the rails and theground beyond--letters which would have brought joy to many a lonelyheart at the front. It was really heart-breaking to behold thismelancholy remnant of 1, 500 mail-bags, and, a little farther on, to seethree skeleton trucks charred by fire, which told how the warm clothingdestined for the troops perished when De Wet and his burghers had takenall they needed. Many yarns were related to me about the chivalry ofthis farmer-General, especially respecting the mail-bags, and how hesaid that his burghers should not make fun of the English officers'letters, and therefore that he burnt them with his own hands. Anotheranecdote was remarkable--namely, that of an officer searching sadlyamong the heap of debris for some eagerly expected letter, and who cameacross an uninjured envelope directed to himself, containing hisbank-book from Messrs. Cox and Sons, absolutely intact and untouched. Itcan only be conjectured whether he would as soon have known it in ashes. 

On arriving in the vicinity of Kroonstadt, the most risky part of thejourney was over, and then a wonderfully novel scene unfolded itself aswe crawled over a rise from the desolate, barren country we had beentraversing, and a tented city lay in front of us. Anyway, such was itsappearance at a first glance, for white tents stretched far away eastand west, and appeared to swamp into insignificance the unpretentioushouses, and even a fairly imposing church-spire which lay in thebackground. I had never seen anything like this vast army depôt, andexamined everything with the greatest attention and interest. Hugemountains of forage covered by tarpaulin sheets were the first things tocatch my eye; then piles upon piles of wooden cases were pointed out as"rations"--that mysterious term which implies so much and may mean solittle; again, there was a hillock of wicker-covered bottles withhandles which puzzled me, and which were explained as "cordials" of somekind. Powerful traction-engines, at rest and in motion, next came intosight, and weird objects that looked like life-boats mounted on trucks, but which proved to be pontoons--strange articles to perceive at arailway-station. Then we passed a vast concourse of red-cross tents ofevery description, proclaiming a hospital. As far as outward appearanceswent, it looked most beautifully arranged in symmetrically laid-outstreets, while many of the marquees had their sides thrown back, andshowed the patients within, either in bed or sitting about and enjoyingthe breeze and the rays of a sun never too hot at that time of year. "How happy and comfortable they look!" was my remark as we left thembehind. Someone who knew Kroonstadt said: "Yes, they are all right; butthe Scotch Hospital is the one to see if you are staying longenough--spring-beds, writing-tables, and every luxury. " I was sorry timeadmitted of no visit to this establishment or to the magnificentYeomanry Hospital at Deelfontein, farther south, to which I shall haveoccasion to allude in a later chapter. This last establishment was, evenat that early stage of the war, a household word among the soldiers atthe front, a dearly longed-for Mecca amongst the sick and wounded. 

Our train had come to an abrupt standstill, and, on looking out, theline appeared so hopelessly blocked that the only way of reaching thestation and lunch appeared to be on foot. We walked, therefore, upwardsof half a mile, undergoing many perils from shunting engines, trainsundecided whether to go on or to go back, and general confusion. Itcertainly did not look as if our train could be extricated for hours, but it proved there was method in this apparent muddle, and we sufferedno delay worth speaking of. The station was densely packed with Staffofficers and soldiers. Presently someone elbowed a way through the crowdto make way for the General, just arrived from Bloemfontein. A momentaryinterest was roused as an elderly, soldierly gentleman, with white hairand a slight figure, passed out of sight into one of the officials'rooms, and then we joined the throng trying to get food in the overtaxedrefreshment-room. We had some interesting conversation with the officerin command of the station, and learnt how the Kroonstadt garrison wereeven then living in the midst of daily alarms from De Wet or hisfollowers; added to these excitements, there was a colossal amount ofwork to be got through in the way of supplying Pretoria with food, by aline liable to be interrupted, and in coping with the task of receivingand unloading remounts, which were arriving from the South in largenumbers. I saw some of these poor animals packed nine in a truck, marvellously quiet, and unmindful of strange sights and sounds, and ofbeing hurled against each other when the locomotive jerked on or came toa stop. They were in good condition, but their eyes were sad and theirtails were woefully rubbed. After seeing Kroonstadt Railway-station, Irealized that the work of a Staff officer on the lines of communicationwas no sinecure. 

Marvellous to relate, in the early afternoon we found our train in thestation, and, climbing into our carriage once more, we proceeded on ourroad without delay, congratulating ourselves on our good fortune in notbeing held up at Kroonstadt, as had been the fate of many travellersgoing south. Immediately south of Kroonstadt we crossed the Vaal River, with its fine high-level bridge reduced to atoms by dynamite. This hadgiven the engineers another opportunity to display their skill by aclever deviation of a couple of miles in length, winding down almost tothe water-level, and then serenely effecting the crossing by a littlewooden bridge, from which its ruined predecessor was visible about aquarter of a mile up the stream. Darkness and approaching night then hidthe landscape. That evening we were told we need have no fears, for wewere practically out of the dangerous zone. We dined comfortably in ourcompartment, and I heard many more reminiscences of the advance from twotravelling companions who had taken part in it. Suddenly in the nextcompartment a party of Canadian officers commenced singing part-songswith real musical talent. We relapsed into silence as we heard the"Swanee River" sung more effectively than I have ever heard it before orsince, and it reminded me that we, too, were going home. Presently wefound ourselves joining in the chorus of that most touching melody, "Going back to Dixie, " greatly to the delight of our sociable andtalented neighbours. Daylight next morning brought us to Bloemfonteinand civilization, and what impressed me most was the fact of dailynewspapers being sold at a bookstall, which sight I had not seen formany months. On arriving at Cape Town, I was most hospitably entertainedat Groot Schuurr by Colonel Frank Rhodes, in the absence of his brother. This mansion had been a convalescent home for many officers ever sincethe war began. There I passed a busy ten days in seeing heaps offriends, and I had several interviews with Sir Alfred Milner, to whomevents of the siege and relief of Mafeking were of specially deepinterest. I gave him as a memento a small Mauser bullet mounted as ascarf-pin, and before leaving for England I received from him thefollowing letter:

 "GOVERNMENT HOUSE, "CAPE TOWN, "_November 7, 1900. _

 "DEAR LADY SARAH, "How very kind of you to think of giving me that interesting relic ofMafeking! It will indeed revive memories of anxiety, as well as of theintensest feeling of relief and thankfulness that I have everexperienced. 

"Hoping we shall meet again when 'distress and strain are over, '

 "I am, "Yours very sincerely, "ALFRED MILNER. "

Much of my time was also occupied in corresponding with Mafeking aboutthe distribution of the fund which was being energetically collected inLondon by my sister, Lady Georgiana Curzon. Many weeks before we wererelieved I had written to Lady Georgiana, then hard at work with theorganization of the Yeomanry Hospital, suggesting to her to start arelief fund for the inhabitants of Mafeking. It had all along seemed tome that these latter deserved some substantial recognition andcompensation beyond what they could expect from the Government, fordamage done to their homes and their shops, and for the utter stagnationof the trade in the town during the siege. The nurses, the nuns andtheir convent, were also worthy objects for charity. This latterresidence, but lately built, and including a nicely decorated chapelwith many sacred images, had been, as I have said, practicallydestroyed; and the Sisters had borne their part most nobly, in nursingthe sick and wounded, while many were suffering in health from theprivations they had undergone. In response to my appeal, Lady Georgianainserted the following letter in the _Times_ just before the news of theRelief reached England:

 "20, CURZON STREET, W. , "_May 11. _

 "SIR, "I venture to address an appeal to the people of the United Kingdom, through the columns of your paper, on behalf of the inhabitants of Mafeking. Nothing but absolute knowledge of their sufferings prompts me to thus inaugurate another fund, and one which must come in addition to the numerous subscriptions already started in connection with the South African War. I admit the generous philanthropy of our country has been evinced to a degree that is almost inconceivable, and I hesitate even now in making this fresh appeal, but can only plead as an excuse the heartrending accounts of the sufferings of Mafeking that I have received from my sister, Lady Sarah Wilson. 

 "The last mail from South Africa brought me a letter from her, dated March 3. In it she implores me to take active measures to bring before the generous British public the destitute condition of the nuns, refugees, and civilians generally, in Mafeking. She writes with authority, having witnessed their sufferings herself, and, indeed, having shared equally with them the anxieties and privations of this prolonged siege. Her letter describes the absolute ruin of all the small tradespeople, whose homes are in many cases demolished. The compensation they will receive for damaged goods will be totally inadequate to cover their loss. Years must pass ere their trade can be restored to the proportions of a livelihood. Meanwhile starvation in the immediate future lies before them. The unfortunate Sisters in the convent have for weeks hardly had a roof over their heads, the Boer shells having more or less destroyed their home. In consequence, their belongings left intact by shot or shell have been ruined by rain. The destruction of their small and humble properties, in addition to their discomfort, has added to their misery; and yet no complaining word has passed their lips, but they have throughout cheerfully and willingly assisted the hospital nurses in their duties, always having smiles and encouraging words for the sick and wounded. 

 "Sitting at home in our comfortable houses, it is hard to realize the actual sufferings of these besieged inhabitants of Mafeking. My letter tells me that for months they have not slept in their beds, and although no opposition to the Boer forces in the first instance would have saved their town, their properties, and in many cases their lives, yet they one and all bravely and nobly 'buckled to, ' and stood by that gallant commander, Baden-Powell. Loyalty was their cry, and freedom and justice their household gods. Have not their courage and endurance thrilled the whole world? I feel I need not ask forgiveness for issuing yet this one more appeal. It comes last, but is it least? A handful of soldiers, nearly all colonials, under a man who must now rank as a great and tried commander, have for six months repelled the Boer attacks. Could this small force have for one moment been a match for the well-equipped besiegers if the inhabitants had not fought for and with the garrison? Some worked and fought in actual trenches; others demonstrated by patient endurance their cool and courageous determination never to give in. Would it not be a graceful recognition of their courage if, on that glorious day, which we hope may not be far distant, when the relief of Mafeking is flashed across thousands of miles to the 'heart of the Empire, ' we could cable back our congratulations on their freedom, and inform Mafeking that a large sum of money is ready to be placed by this country for the relief of distress amongst the Sisters, refugees, and suffering civilians of the town?

 "I feel I shall not ask in vain, but that our congratulations to Mafeking will take most material form by generous admirers in the United Kingdom. 

 "Subscriptions will be received by Messrs. Hoare and Co. , bankers, Fleet Street, E. C. 

 "I remain, "Your obedient servant, "GEORGIANA CURZON. "

The fund had reached unhoped-for proportions. In our most optimisticmoments we did not expect to collect more than two or three thousandpounds, but subscriptions had poured in from the very commencement, andthe grand amount of £29, 267 was finally the total contributed. This sumwas ably administered by Colonel Vyvyan of the Buffs, who had beenBase-Commandant of Mafeking during the siege. He was assisted by acommittee, and the principal items allocated by these gentlemen were asfollows:

 £ Widows and orphans 6, 536 Refugees 4, 630 Town relief 3, 741 Seaside fund 2, 900 Churches, convent, schools, etc. 2, 900 Wounded men 2, 245 Small tradesmen 1, 765 Hospital staff, nuns, etc. 1, 115 Colonel Plumer's Rhodesian column, etc. 1, 000

Lady Georgiana Curzon's eloquent appeal proved to be the salvation ofmany a family in Mafeking. 

The popularity of the fund was enormously helped by the interest of thethen Prince and Princess of Wales, now our King and Queen, in the townand in the assistance of the same. This interest was evinced by thefollowing letters, given to me later by my sister:

 "TREASURER'S HOUSE, "YORK "_June 20, 1900. _

 MY DEAR LADY GEORGIE. 

 "The Princess and I thank you very much for sending your sister's letters for us to read. They are most interesting, and admirably written. She has certainly gone through experiences which ought to last her a lifetime! If the papers are correct in stating that you start on Saturday for Madeira to meet her, let me wish you _bon voyage_. 

 "Ever yours very sincerely, "(Signed) ALBERT EDWARD. "

The Princess of Wales had already written as follows:

 "MY DEAR GEORGIE, "I saw in yesterday's _Times_ your touching appeal for poor, unfortunate, forsaken Mafeking, in which I have taken the liveliest interest during all these months of patient and brave endurance. I have therefore great pleasure in enclosing £100 for the benefit of the poor nuns and other inhabitants. I hope very soon, however, they will be relieved, and I trust poor sister Sarah will be none the worse for all she has gone through during her forced captivity. Many thanks for sending me that beautifully drawn-up report of your Yeomanry Hospital. How well you have explained everything! Hoping to meet soon, "Yours affectionately, "(Signed) ALEXANDRA. "[41]

Some fourteen months after my return home a _Gazette_ appeared with theawards gained during the early part of the war, and great was my delightto find I had been selected for the coveted distinction of the Royal RedCross. The King had previously nominated Lady Georgiana Curzon andmyself to be Ladies of Grace of the Order of St. John of Jerusalem, which entitles its members to wear a very effective enamel locket on ablack bow; but, next to the Red Cross, the medal which I prize mosthighly is the same which the soldiers received for service in SouthAfrica, with the well-known blue and orange striped ribbon. This medalwas given to the professional nurses who were in South Africa, but Ithink I was, with one other exception, the only amateur to receive it, and very unworthy I felt myself when I went to St. James's Palace withall the gallant and skilful sisterhood of army nurses to share with themthe great honour of receiving the same from His Majesty in person. 

FOOTNOTES:

[40] Small kettles. 

[41] I am allowed to reproduce the foregoing letters by the graciouspermission of Their Majesties the King and Queen. 

CHAPTER XVII

 THE WORK OF LADY GEORGIANA CURZON, LADY CHESHAM, AND THE YEOMANRY HOSPITAL, DURING THE WAR--THIRD VOYAGE TO THE CAPE, 1902

 "Fight the good fight. "

On the pages of history is recorded in golden letters the name and deedsof Florence Nightingale, who, as the pioneer of scientific hospitalnursing, did so much to mitigate the horrors of war. Her example wasnobly followed half a century later by two other English ladies, who, although they had not to encounter the desperate odds connected withignorance and old-fashioned ideas which Miss Nightingale successfullycombated, did marvellous service by displaying what private enterprisecan do in a national emergency--an emergency with which, in itssuddenness, gravity, and scope, no Government could have hoped to dealsuccessfully. I must go back to the winter of 1899 to call their greatwork to mind. War had already been waging some weeks in South Africawhen the Government's proclamation was issued calling for volunteersfrom the yeomanry for active service at the front, and the lightningresponse that came to this appeal from all quarters and from all gradeswas the silver lining shining brightly through the black clouds thathovered over the British Empire during that dread winter. Thus theloyalty of the men of Britain was proven, and among the women whoyearned to be up and doing were Lady Georgiana Curzon and Lady Chesham. Not theirs was the sentiment that "men must work and women must weep";to them it seemed but right that they should take their share of thenation's burden, and, as they could not fight, they could, and did, work. 

Filled with pity for all who were so gallantly fighting at the seat ofwar, it was the yeomen--called suddenly from peaceful pursuits to servetheir country in her day of distress--who claimed their deepestsympathies, and, with the object of establishing a hospital for thisforce at the front, Lady Georgiana Curzon and Lady Chesham, on December29, 1899, appealed to the British public for subscriptions. The resultfar exceeded their expectations, and every post brought generousdonations in cash and in kind. Even the children contributed eagerly tothe Yeomen's Fund, and one poor woman gave a shilling towards the costof providing a bed in the hospital, "in case her son might have to lieon it. " The Queen--then Princess of Wales--allowed herself to benominated President; the present Princess of Wales and the Duchess ofConnaught gave their names as Vice-Presidents of the Imperial YeomanryHospitals. The working committee was composed of the following: Adeline, Duchess of Bedford, the Duchess of Marlborough, the Countesses of Essexand Dudley, the Ladies Chesham and Tweedmouth, Mesdames S. Neumann, A. G. Lucas, Blencowe Cookson, Julius Wernher (now Lady Wernher), and Madamevon Andre. Amongst the gentlemen who gave valuable assistance, the mostprominent were: Viscount Curzon, M. P. (now Lord Howe), Hon. Secretary;Mr. Ludwig Neumann, Hon. Treasurer; General Eaton (now LordCheylesmore); and Mr. Oliver Williams. 

Lady Georgiana Curzon was a born leader, and it was but natural that thecapable ladies aforementioned appointed her as their chairman. Passionately devoted to sport though she was, she willingly forsook herbeloved hunting-field, leaving a stable full of hunters idle at MeltonMowbray, for the committee-room and the writing-table. The scheme wasone fraught with difficulties great and numerous, and not the leastamongst them was the "red tape" that had to be cut; but Lady GeorgianaCurzon took up the good cause with enthusiasm and ability, and she andher colleagues worked to such purpose that, on March 17, 1900, a basehospital containing over 500 beds (which number was subsequentlyincreased to 1, 000), fully equipped, left our shores. So useful didthese institutions prove themselves, that as time went on, and the evilsof war spread to other parts of South Africa, the committee were askedto inaugurate other hospitals, and, the funds at their disposal allowingof acquiescence, they established branches at Mackenzie's Farm, MaitlandCamp, Eastwood, Elandsfontein, and Pretoria, besides a smallconvalescent home for officers at Johannesburg. Thus in a few months afield-hospital and bearer company (the first ever formed by civilians), several base hospitals, and a convalescent home, were organized by theImperial Yeomanry Hospitals Committee, who frequently met, with LadyGeorgiana Curzon presiding, to discuss ways and means of satisfactorilyworking those establishments so many thousands of miles away. 

The Hospital Commissioners who visited Deelfontein in November, 1900, said it was one of the best-managed hospitals in Africa. A similaropinion was expressed by Colonel A. G. Lucas, M. V. O. , when he visited itin the autumn, and this gentleman also reported most favourably on thesection at Mackenzie's Farm. Through Colonel Kilkelly, Lord Kitchenersent a message to the committee early in 1901, expressing hisadmiration of the Pretoria Hospital. In this branch Lady Roberts showedmuch interest, and, with her customary kindness, rendered it everyassistance in her power. At a time when military hospitals were beingweighed in the balance, and in some instances found wanting, the praisebestowed on the Yeomanry Institutions was worthy of note. From first tolast the various staffs numbered over 1, 400 persons, and more than20, 000 patients were treated in the Yeomanry Hospitals whilst they wereunder the management of Lady Georgiana Curzon and her committee. Although sick and wounded from every force under the British flag inSouth Africa were taken in, and many Boers as well, a sufficient numberof beds was always available for the immediate admittance of patientsfrom the force for which the hospitals were originally created. Thesubscriptions received for this great national work totalled over£145, 300, in addition to a subsidy of £3, 000 from the Government forprolonging the maintenance of the field-hospital and bearer company fromJanuary 1 to March 31, 1901. The interest on deposits alone amounted toover £1, 635, and when, with the cessation of hostilities, there was, happily, no further need for these institutions, the buildings, etc. , were sold for £24, 051. The balance which the committee ultimately had inhand from this splendid total of over £174, 000 was devoted to themaintenance of a school which had since been established at PerivaleAlperton, for the benefit of the daughters of yeomen who were killed ordisabled during the war. 

There has been ample testimony of the excellent way in which thisadmirable scheme was created and carried out. Numerous letters, touchingin their expressions of gratitude, were received from men of all rankswhose sufferings were alleviated in the Yeomanry Hospitals; newspaperscommented upon it at the time, but it is only those who were behind thescenes that can tell what arduous work it entailed, and of howunflinchingly it was faced by the chairman of the committee. Constantinterviews with War Office officials, with doctors, with nurses; thehundreds of letters that had to be written daily; the questions, necessary and unnecessary, that had to be answered; the estimates thathad to be examined, would have proved a nightmare to anyone notpossessed of the keenest intellect combined with the strongest will. Itinvolved close and unremitting attention from morning till night, andthis not for one week, but for many months; and yet no detail was evermomentarily shirked by one who loved an outdoor life. Lady Georgianarealized to the full the responsibilities of having this vast sum ofmoney entrusted to her by the British public, and not wisely, but toowell, did she devote herself to discharging it. 

Her services to the country were as zealous as they were invaluable. Byher quick grasp of the details of administration, by the marvellous tactand skill she exercised, and by the energy she threw into herundertaking, every difficulty was mastered. At this present time manyhundreds of men, who were ten years ago facing a desperate foe, canreflect gratefully, if sadly, that they owe their lives to the generousand unselfish efforts of a brave woman who is no longer with us; for, after all, Lady Georgiana Curzon was human, and had to pay the price ofall she did. Her great exertions seriously told upon her health, as wasonly to be expected, and long before the conclusion of her strenuouslabours she felt their effects, although she ignored them. Lady Cheshamwas no less energetic a worker, and had as an additional anxiety thefact of her husband and son[42] being both at the front. It wasimperative that one of these two ladies, who were responsible forstarting the fund, should personally superintend the erection and theopening of the large base hospital at Deelfontein, and as Lady GeorgianaCurzon had made herself almost indispensable in London by her adroitnessin managing already sorely harassed War Office officials, and inkeeping her committee unanimous and contented, it was decided that LadyChesham should proceed to the scene of the war. My sister gladly gave upthis stirring role for the more prosaic, but equally important, work inLondon, and when I returned home, in July, 1900, I found her stillcompletely absorbed by her self-imposed task. Already her health wasfailing, and overtaxed nature was having its revenge. During the nexttwo years, in spite of repeated warnings and advice, she gave herself norest, but all the while she cherished the wish to pay a visit to thatcontinent which had been the theatre of her great enterprise. At length, in August, 1902, in the week following the coronation of TheirMajesties, we sailed together for Cape Town, a sea-voyage having beenrecommended to her in view of her refusal to try any of the foreignhealth-resorts, which might have effected a cure. By the death of herfather-in-law, my sister was then Lady Howe, but it will be with her oldname of Lady Georgiana Curzon or "Lady Georgie"--as she was known to herintimates--that the task she achieved will ever be associated. 

More than seven years had elapsed since my first visit, and nearlytwenty-six months from the time I had left South Africa in the Julyfollowing the termination of the Mafeking siege, when I found myselfback in the old familiar haunts. Groot Schuurr had never looked morelovely than on the sunny September morning when we arrived there fromthe mail-steamer, after a tedious and annoying delay in disembarking ofseveral hours, connected with permits under martial law. This delay wasrendered more aggravating by the fact that, on the very day of ourarrival, [43] the same law ceased to exist, and that our ship was thelast to have to submit to the ordeal. Many and sad were the changes thathad come to pass in the two years, and nowhere did they seem moreevident than when one crossed the threshold of Mr. Rhodes's home. Thecentral figure, so often referred to in the foregoing pages, was nomore, and one soon perceived that the void left by that giant spirit, soinseparably connected with vast enterprises, could never be filled. Thiswas not merely apparent in the silent, echoing house, on the slopes ofthe mountain he loved so well, in the circle of devoted friends andadherents, who seemed left like sheep without a shepherd, but also inthe political arena, in the future prospects of that extensive NorthernTerritory which he had practically discovered and opened up. It seemedas if Providence had been very hard in allowing one individual toacquire such vast influence, and to be possessed of so much genius, andthen not to permit the half-done task to be accomplished. 

That this must also have been Mr. Rhodes's reflection was proved by thepathetic words he so often repeated during his last illness: "So littledone, so much to do. "

Groot Schuurr was outwardly the same as in the old days, and kept up inthe way one knew that the great man would have wished. We went for thesame rides he used to take. The view was as glorious as ever, theanimals were flourishing and increasing in numbers, the old lions gazedplacidly down from their roomy cage on a ledge of Table Mountain, thepeacocks screamed and plumed themselves, and the herd of zebras grazedin picturesque glades. Nothing was changed there to outward appearances, and one had to go farther afield to see evidences of the dismay causedby the pillar being abruptly broken off. Cape Town itself, I soon noted, was altered by the war almost beyond recognition. From the dull anduninteresting seaport town I remembered it when we came there in 1895, it seemed, seven years later, one of the busiest cities imaginable, withthe most enormous street traffic. The pavements were thronged, the shopswere crowded, and numerous were the smart, khaki-clad figures, bronzedand bearded, that were to be seen on all sides. The Mount Nelson Hotel, which had been opened just before the war, was crowded with them--somevery youthful, who had early acquired manhood and selfreliance in aforeign land; others grey-headed, with rows of medal ribbons, dimmed incolour from exposure to all weathers, whose names were strangelyfamiliar as recording heroic achievements. 

At that time Sir Gordon Sprigg, of the Progressive Party, was in powerand Prime Minister; but he was only kept in office by the Bond, who madethe Ministers more or less ridiculous in the eyes of the country bycausing them to dance like puppets at their bidding. It was in the Houseof Assembly--where he was a whale amongst minnows--that the void was soacutely felt surrounding the vacant seat so long occupied by Mr. Rhodes, and it was not an encouraging sight, for those of his supporters whotried to carry on his traditions, to gaze on the sparsely filled ranksof the Progressive Party, and then at the crowded seats of the Bond onthe other side. 

We were told, by people who had met the Boer Generals on their recentvisit to the colony, that these latter were not in the least cast downby the result of the war; that they simply meant to bide their time andwin in the Council Chamber what they had lost on the battle-field; thatthe oft-reiterated sentence, "South Africa for the Dutch, " was by nomeans an extinct volcano or a parrot-cry of the past. It was evidentthat political feeling was, in any case, running very high; it almoststopped social intercourse, it divided families. To be a member of theLoyal Women's League was sufficient to be ostracized in any Dutchvillage, the Boers pretending that the name outraged their feelings, andthat distinctions between loyal and disloyal were invidious. Federation--Mr. Rhodes's great ideal--which has since come rapidly andtriumphantly to be an accomplished fact, was then temporarily relegatedto the background; the Bond, apparently, had not made up their minds todeclare for it, but they were hard at work in their old shrewd way, obtaining influence by getting their own men appointed to vacancies atthe post-office and in the railway departments, while the Loyalistsappeared to be having almost as bad a time as in the old days before thewar. At the present moment, in spite of all the good-will borne to thenew Union of South Africa by great and small in all lands where theBritish flag flies, it is well to remember, without harbouring anygrudge, certain incidents of the past. A thorough knowledge of thepeople which are to be assimilated with British colonists is absolutelynecessary, that all may in the end respect, as well as like, each other. 

From Cape Town, where my sister transacted a great deal of businessconnected with the winding-up of the Yeomanry Hospital, we went toBloemfontein, and were the guests at Government House of my old Mafekingfriend, Sir Hamilton Gould Adams, promoted to the important post ofGovernor of the Orange River Colony. From that town we drove across toKimberley, taking two days to accomplish this somewhat tedious journey. We stayed one night with a German farmer, who had surrendered to theEnglish when Bloemfontein was occupied by Lord Roberts, and his case wastypical of many similar awkward predicaments which occurred frequentlyduring the ups and downs of the war. When Lord Roberts's army swept onfrom Bloemfontein, the Boers in a measure swept back, and our host wasfor months persecuted by his own people, finally made a prisoner, andwas within an ace of being shot; in fact, it was only the peace thatsaved his life. 

Next day we made our noonday halt at Poplar Grove, the scene of one ofLord Roberts's fights, and farther on we passed Koodoos Rand Drift, where General French had cut off Cronje and forced him back onPaardeberg. All along these roads it was very melancholy to see theruined farms, some with the impoverished owner in possession, othersstill standing empty. A Boer farmhouse is not at any time thecounterpart of the snug dwelling we know in England, but it washeartbreaking to see these homes as they were at the conclusion of thewar, when, in nearly every instance, the roof, window-frames, and doors, were things of the past. When a waggon could be espied standing nearthe door, and a few lean oxen grazing at hand, it was a sign that theowner had returned home, and, on closer inspection, a whole family ofchildren would probably be discovered sheltered by a tin lean-to fixedto the side of the house, or huddled in a tent pitched close by. Theyall seemed wonderfully patient, but looked despairing and miserable. Atone of these houses we spoke to the daughter of such a family who wasable to converse in English. She told us her father had died during thewar, that two of her brothers had fought for the English, and hadreturned with khaki uniforms and nothing else, but that the third hadthrown in his lot with the Boers, and had come back the proud possessorof four horses. 

At Kimberley we had motors placed at our disposal by Mr. GardnerWilliams, manager of the De Beers Company, and were amused to hear howexcited the Kaffirs had been at the first automobile to appear in theDiamond City, and how they had thrown themselves down to peer underneathin order to discover the horse. These motors, however, were not of muchuse on the veldt, and we soon found Kimberley very dull, and decided tomake a flying tour through Rhodesia to Beira, taking a steamer at thatport for Delagoa Bay, on our road to Johannesburg. Our firsthalting-place was at Mafeking, where we arrived one bitterly cold, blowy morning at 6 a. M. I do not think I ever realized, during all thosemonths of the siege, what a glaring little spot it was. When I returnedthere two years later: the dust was flying in clouds, the sun wasblinding, and accentuated the absence of any shade. 

Six hours spent there were more than sufficient, and it was astoundingto think of the many months that it had been our home. It has often beensaid, I reflected, that it is the people you consort with, not the placeyou live at, that constitute an agreeable existence; and of the formerall I could find to say was, "Where are they gone, the old familiarfaces?" Beyond the Mayor of the town, who called to reiterate warmthanks for the Mafeking Fund, and a nigger coachman who used to take meout for Sunday drives, I failed to perceive one face I knew in the townduring the siege; but at the convent we received the warmest welcomefrom the Mother Superior and the nuns. This community appeared to be inquite affluent circumstances: the building was restored, the chapelrebuilt and plentifully decorated with new images; there was a fullcomplement of day-boarders, who were energetically practising on severalpianos, and many new Sisters had made their appearance; upstairs, theroom where was located the Maxim gun was filled by thirty snowwhitebeds. It was quite refreshing to find one circle who had recovered fromtheir hardships, and who, if anything, were rather more prosperous thanbefore the war. We paid a flying visit to the little cemetery, which wasbeautifully kept, and where many fairly recent graves were in evidence, chiefly due to enteric fever after the siege. There we particularlynoted a very fine marble cross, erected to the memory of Captain RonaldVernon; and as we were admiring this monument we met an old Kimberleyacquaintance in the person of Mrs. Currey, who had been our hostess atthe time of the Jameson Raid. Her husband had since died, and this ladywas travelling round that part of Africa representing the Loyal Women'sLeague, who did such splendid work in marking out and tending thesoldiers' graves. 

At Mafeking we picked up the Rhodesian _train de luxe_, and travelled inthe greatest comfort to Bulawayo, and on to Salisbury. At that town wemet a party, comprising, amongst others, Dr. Jameson and the late Mr. Alfred Beit, who were making a tour of inspection connected withsatisfying the many wants of the Rhodesian settlers. These pioneers werebeginning to feel the loss of the great man to whom they had turned foreverything. His faithful lieutenants were doing their best to replacehim, and the rôle of the first-named, apparently, was to make thenecessary speeches, that of the latter to write the equally importantcheques. 

With these gentlemen we continued our journey to Beira, stopping at afew places of interest on the way. The country between Salisbury andBeira is flat and marshy, and was, till the advent of the railway, averitable Zoological Garden as regards game of all sorts. The climate isdeadly for man and beast, and mortality was high during the constructionof the Beira Railway, which connected Rhodesia with an eastern outlet onthe sea. Among uninteresting towns, I think Beira should be placed highon the list; the streets are so deep in sand that carriages are out ofthe question, and the only means of transport is by small trucks onnarrow rails. As may be imagined, we did not linger there, but went atonce on board the German steamer, which duly landed us at LorenzoMarques forty-eight hours later, after an exceedingly rough voyage. 

The following day was Sunday, and having been told there was a serviceat the English Church at 9. 30 a. M. , we duly went there at that hour, only to find the church apparently deserted, and not a movement or soundemanating therefrom. However, on peeping in at one of the windows, wediscovered a clergyman most gorgeously apparelled in green and gold, preparing to discourse to a congregation of two persons! Evidently theresidents found the climate too oppressively hot for church that Sundaymorning. 

In the afternoon we were able to see some portions of that wonderfulharbour, of worldwide reputation. Literally translated, the local namefor the same means the "English River, " and it is virtually an arm ofthe sea, stretching inland like a deep bay, in which three separategood-sized streams find an outlet. Some few miles up these rivers, wewere told, grand shooting was still to be had, the game includinghippopotami, rhinoceroses, and buffalo, which roam throughfever-stricken swamps of tropical vegetation. The glories of the vastharbour of Delagoa Bay can better be imagined than described. In thewords of a resident, "It would hold the navies of the world, " and someyears back it might have been purchased for £12, 000. With the war justover, people were beginning to realize how trade and development wouldbe facilitated if this great seaport belonged to the British Empire. A"United Africa" was already looming in the distance, and it required butlittle imagination on the part of the traveller, calling to mind theshort rail journey connecting it with the mining centres of theTransvaal, to determine what a thriving, busy place Lorenzo Marqueswould then become. During the day the temperature was tropical, but byevening the atmosphere freshened, and was almost invigorating as thefierce sun sank to rest and its place was taken by a full moon. From ourhotel, standing high on the cliff above the bay, the view was then likefairyland: an ugly old coal-hulk, a somewhat antiquated Portuguesegunboat, and even the diminutive and unpleasant German steamer which hadbrought us from Beira, all were tinged with silver and enveloped inromance, to which they could certainly lay no claim in reality. 

Early in the morning of the next day we left for Johannesburg. The lineproved most interesting, especially after passing the almost historicalBritish frontier town, Koomati Poort. It winds like a serpent round themountains, skirting precipices, and giving one occasional peeps oflovely fertile valleys. During a greater part of the way the CrocodileRiver follows its sinuous course in close proximity to the railway, while above tower rocky boulders. To describe their height andcharacter, I can only say that the steepest Scotch mountains we arefamiliar with fade into insignificance beside those barren, awe-inspiring ranges, and one was forced to wonder how the Englishsoldiers--not to speak of heavy artillery--could have safely negotiatedthose narrow and precipitous passes. For the best part of twelve hoursour train slowly traversed this wild and magnificent scenery, andevening brought us to Waterfall Onder, where, at the stationrestaurant, kept by a Frenchman, we had a most excellent dinner, with acup of coffee that had a flavour of the Paris boulevards. Thisstopping-place was adjacent to Noitgedacht, whose name recalled theunpleasant association of having been the home, for many weary weeks, ofEnglish prisoners, and traces of high wire palings which had been theirenclosure were still to be seen. From Waterfall Onder the train puffedup a stupendous hill, the gradient being one foot in twenty, and toassist its progress a cogwheel engine was attached behind. In thisfashion a two-thousand-feet rise was negotiated, the bright moonlightenhancing the beauty of the sudden and rocky ascent by increasing themystery of the vast depths below. We then found ourselves at WaterfallBoven, in a perfectly cool atmosphere, and also, as regards thelandscape, in a completely different country, which latter fact we onlyfully appreciated with the morning light, as we drew near to Pretoria. The stranger landing at Delagoa Bay, and travelling through those bleakand barren mountains, might well ask himself the reason of the lateprolonged and costly war; but as he approaches the Rand, and suddenlysees the rows and rows of mining shafts and chimneys, which are thevisible signs of the hidden wealth, the veil is lifted and the recentevents of history are explained. At that time, owing to the war, therewere no signs of agriculture, and in many districts there appeared to beabsolute desolation. 

At Johannesburg we stayed at Sunnyside, as the guests of Lord Milner. This residence is small and unpretentious, but exceedingly comfortable, and has the advantage of commanding wide views over the surroundingcountry. Our host was then engrossed in his difficult task of satisfyingthe wants and desires of many communities and nationalities, whosecountless differences of opinion seemed wellnigh irreconcilable. Duringour stay the visit of the Right Hon. J. Chamberlain was announced aslikely to take place during the next few months, and the advent of thisdistinguished Colonial Minister was a subject of great satisfaction tothe harassed High Commissioner. As at Cape Town, his staff was composedof charming men, but all young and with no administrative experience. Among its members were included Colonel W. Lambton, who was MilitarySecretary; Captain Henley and Lord Brooke, A. D. C. 's; and Mr. Walrond. 

The Golden City itself was, to all outward appearances, as thriving asever, with its busy population, its crowded and excellent shops, and itsgeneral evidences of opulence, which appeared to overbalance--or, in anycase, wish to conceal--any existing poverty or distress. Among manyfriends we met was a French lady, formerly the Marquise d'Hervé, butwho had married, as her second husband, Comte Jacque de Waru. Thisenterprising couple were busy developing some mining claims which hadbeen acquired on their behalf by some relatives during the war. In spiteof having been deserted at Cape Town by all the servants they hadbrought from Paris, this clever lady, nothing daunted, had replaced themby blacks, and one night she and her husband offered us, at the smalltin-roofed house where they were residing, a sumptuous dinner which wasworthy of the best traditions of Parisian hospitality. Notwithstandingthe fact of her having no maid, and that she had herself superintendedmost of the cooking of the dinner, our hostess was charmingly attired inthe latest Paris fashion, with elaborately dressed hair, and thepleasant company she had collected, combined with an excellent cuisine, helped to make the entertainment quite one of the pleasantest we enjoyedduring our stay. Among the guests was General "Bully" Oliphant, who hadjust been recalled to England to take up an important appointment, muchto the regret of his Johannesburg friends, with whom he had made himselfexceedingly popular; and the witty conversation of this gentleman keptthe whole dinner-table convulsed with laughing, to such an extent thathis colleague-in-arms, our quondam Mafeking commander, GeneralBaden-Powell, who was also of the party, was reduced to mere silentappreciation. This impromptu feast, given under difficulties whichalmost amounted to siege conditions, was again an evidence of theversatility and inherent hospitality of the French nation, and thememory of that pleasant evening lingers vividly in my recollections. 

The duration of our two months' holiday was rapidly approaching itsclose. My sister was recalled to England by social and other duties, andwas so much better in health that we were deluded into thinking thewonderful air and bracing climate had effected a complete cure. After ashort but very interesting visit to the Natal battle-fields, whither wewere escorted by General Burn-Murdoch and Captain Henry Guest, wejourneyed to Cape Town, and, regretfully turning our backs on warmth andsunshine, we landed once more in England on a dreary December day. 

FOOTNOTES:

[42] Lieutenant the Hon. C. W. H. Cavendish, 17th Lancers, was killed atDiamond Hill, June 11, 1900. 

[43] Peace had been declared in the previous June. 

CHAPTER XVIII

 FOURTH VOYAGE TO THE CAPE--THE VICTORIA FALLS AND SIX WEEKS NORTH OF THE ZAMBESI[44]

 "We propose now to go on and cross the Zambesi just below the Victoria Falls. I should like to have the spray of the water over the carriages. "--_Letter from the Right Hon. C. J. Rhodes to E. S. Grogan, Esq. , September 7, 1900. _[45]

These words came to my mind as I sat under the verandah of one of thenewly thatched huts which formed the camp of the Native Commissioner atLivingstone, Victoria Falls, on a glorious morning early in July, 1903, gazing at one of the fairest landscapes to be seen on God's earth. I wasostensibly occupied with my mail home, but the paper lay in all itsvirgin whiteness before me, while my eyes feasted on the marvellouspanorama stretching away to the south, east, and west. My heart sank asI realized how difficult--nay, impossible--it would be for anyone withonly a very limited vocabulary and very moderate powers of descriptionto convey to those far away even a limited idea of this gloriousvision--of these vivid colourings intensified by the lonely grandeur ofthe whole scene and the absence of human habitations. 

"Constitution Hill, " as the aforesaid camp had been christened, wassituated on high ground, four miles to the north of the then drift ofthe Zambesi River, which, again, was several miles above the actualfalls themselves. With the advent of the railway and of the magnificentbridge now spanning the mighty river, that drift has actually falleninto disuse, but at the time of our visit it was the scene of muchactivity, and quite a nest of stores, houses, and huts, had sprung upnear the rough landing-stage on the north side. As transport, not onlyfor individuals and for every ounce of food required by the vast countrystretching away to the north, but also for the huge and valuablemachinery, boilers, boats in sections, etc. , destined for the variousmining companies, the only means of maintaining communication with thestruggling but promising new colony were one very rickety steam-launchand one large rowing-boat, beside a few canoes and native dug-outs. Afine steam-barge, which would greatly have facilitated the passage ofall kinds of merchandise, had most disastrously slipped its mooringsduring one stormy night of last wet season, and had not since beenseen, the presumption being that the relentless stream had carried it tothe mighty cataract, which, like a huge ogre, had engulfed it for alltime. But this disaster had not caused anything like consternation amongthe small community to whom it meant so much, and the thought occurredto one how remarkable are the qualities of dogged perseverance, calmdisregard of drawbacks and of any difficult task before them, whichmakes Englishmen so marvellously successful as pioneers or colonists. The precious barge for which they had waited many weary months haddisappeared, and there was nothing more to be said. Such means asremained were made the most of. 

Owing to this calamity, however, the stores on the north bank werewellnigh run out of their usual stock, but I was amazed to find suchluxuries of life as eau de Cologne, scented soaps, ladies' boots andshoes, and brightly coloured skirts. Leaving the small rivertownship--the embryo Livingstone--we followed a very sandy road uphilltill we reached the summit of Constitution Hill, already mentioned. There our buggy and two small, well-bred ponies swept into asmartly-kept compound surrounded by a palisade, the feature of thesquare being a flagstaff from which the Union Jack was proudlyfluttering. As a site for a residence Constitution Hill could not wellbe surpassed, and many a millionaire would cheerfully have given histhousands to obtain such a view as that which met our eyes from thehumble huts, and held me enthralled during the whole of my stay. It mustbe remembered we had been travelling, since leaving the rail-head, eighty miles north of Bulawayo, through a thickly wooded and mountainouscountry where any extensive views were rare. Even when nearing theZambesi, with the roar of the Falls in one's ears, so little opening-uphad hitherto been done that only an occasional peep of coming glorieswas vouchsafed us; hence the first glimpse of a vast stretch of countrywas all the more striking. I must ask my readers to imagine the bluestof blue skies; an expanse of waving grass of a golden hue, resembling anEnglish cornfield towards the harvest time, stretching away till it islost in far-distant tropical vegetation of intense green, which greenclearly marks the course of the winding Zambesi; again, amid thisemerald verdure, patches of turquoise water, wide, smooth, unruffled, matching the heavens in its hue, are to be seen--no touch of man's handin the shape of houses or chimneys to mar the effect of Nature andNature's colouring. If you follow with your eyes this calm, reposefulriver, now hiding itself beneath its protecting banks with their wealthof branching trees, tall cocoanut palms, and luxuriant undergrowth, nowemerging like a huge blue serpent encrusted with diamonds, so brightlydoes the clear water sparkle in the sun, you note that it finally losesitself in a heavy, impenetrable mass of green forest. And now for a fewmoments the newcomer is puzzled to account for a dense white cloud, arisen apparently from nowhere, which is resting where the forest isthickest and most verdant, now larger, then smaller, anon denser or morefilmy, but never changing its place, never disappearing, while thedistant thunder, to which you had almost got accustomed, strikes uponyour ear and gives the explanation you are seeking. 

Yes, that white cloud has been there for centuries, and will be therewhile the world lasts, in spite of trains, bridges, etc. It marks theVictoria Falls, and is a landmark for many miles round. How amazed mustthe great Livingstone and his intrepid followers have been to see thisfirst sign of their grand discovery after their weary march through acountry of dense forests and sandy wastes, the natural features of whichcould not in the least have suggested such marvels as exist in thestupendous river and the water-power to which it gives birth! Whenmentioning that great explorer--whose name in this district, after alapse of nearly fifty years, remains a household word among the natives, handed down from father to son--it is a curious fact, and one thatshould prove a lesson to many travellers from the old world as well asfrom the new, that only on one tree is he believed to have cut hisinitials in Africa, and that tree stands on the island in the centre ofthe Zambesi, the island that bears his name, and that absolutelyoverhangs and stems the centre of the awe-inspiring cataract. 

I must now try in a few words to give a short account of what we saw atthe Victoria Falls in July, 1903, when the breath of civilization hadscarcely touched them. To-day they are easy of access, and the changesthat have been wrought have come so swiftly that, no doubt, recentvisitors will scarcely recognize the localities of which I write. I mustfirst ask such to be lenient with me, and to follow me down the sandyroad leading from the Constitution Hill Compound to the Controller'sCamp on the bank of the river, about two miles nearer the Falls. Therewere to be seen a collection of huts and offices, where the Controllerconducted his important business of food-purveyor to the community, anda Government inspector of cattle had equally arduous duties to perform. I must mention that, owing to disease in the south, cattle were then notallowed to cross the Zambesi, and horses and dogs had to be disinfectedbefore they were permitted to leave the south bank. Their troubles werenot even then over, as they had to be swum across the river, and, owingto its enormous width, the poor horses were apt to become exhaustedhalfway over, and had to be towed the rest of the way, their heads beingkept out of the water--an operation attended with a certain amount ofrisk. It followed that very few horses were crossed over at all, andthat these animals in North-Western Rhodesia were at a premium. 

From the Controller's Camp I had another opportunity to admire the riveritself, just as wonderful in its way as the Falls, and I rememberthinking of the delights that might be derived from boating, sailing, orsteaming, on its vast surface. Since that day the enterprisinginhabitants have actually held regattas on the mighty stream, in whichsome of the best-known men in the annals of rowing in England have takenpart. But seven years ago our river trip was attended with mildexcitements; the small skiff, carrying our party of six, was anexcessively leaky canoe, which had to be incessantly baled out to keepit afloat, and wherein, notwithstanding our efforts, a deep pool ofwater accumulated, necessitating our sitting with feet tucked under usin Oriental fashion. Hence I cannot say we realized to the full theenjoyments of boating as we know it at home in far less beautifulsurroundings, or as others know it there at the present time. 

The principal features that struck me were, first, the colossal widthof the river. As we gazed across the translucent surface, reflecting asin a looking-glass the fringe of trees along the edge, the firstimpression was that your eyes actually perceived the opposite bank; butwe were undeceived by one of the residents, who observed that was onlyan island, and that there were several such between us and the northside. Secondly, we marvelled at the clearness of the water, reflectingthe blueness above; and, thirdly, at the rich vegetation and the intensegreen of the overhanging foliage, where the graceful and so rarely seenpalms of the Borassus tribe were growing to an immense height. All wasenhanced by the most intense solitude, which seemed to accentuate thefact that this scene of Nature was indeed as God left it. Thesereflections were made as we floated on in our rickety canoe to a creek, where we landed to walk to the actual Falls. A new path had just beencut in the wooded part of the north bank, and we were almost the firstvisitors to profit by it. Formerly the enterprising sight-seers had topush their way through the scrubby undergrowth, but we followed a smoothtrack for two miles, the roar of the cataract getting louder and louder, with only occasional peeps of the river, which was fast losing its calmrepose and degenerating into restless rapids hurrying on to theirbourne. Now and then a buck would dance across our path, pauseaffrighted for an instant at the unusual sight of man, and bound awayagain into the thickness beyond; and once three fine wart-hogs almoststumbled into our party, only to gallop away again like greyhounds, before the rifles, which were carried by the black boys behind, could bemade use of. 

At last we emerged suddenly, without any warning, on the northernextremity of the cataract, which at this point measures over a mile frombank to bank, but of which only about a quarter of that distance isvisible, owing to the blinding spray. It is wellnigh impossible todescribe a scene of such wonder, such wildness. It is awe-inspiring, almost terrible in its force and majesty, and the accompanying dinprevents speech from being heard. Standing on a point flush with theriver before it makes its headlong leap, we gazed first on the swirlingwater losing itself in snowy spray, which beat relentlessly on face andclothes, while the great volume was nosily disappearing to unknown andterrifying depths. The sight-seer tries to look across, to strain hiseyes and to see beyond that white mist which obscures everything; but itis an impossible task, and he can but guess the width of the Falls, slightly horseshoe in shape, from the green trees which seem so far awayon the opposite bank, and are only caught sight of now and then as thewind causes the spray to lift. At the same time his attention is fixedby a new wonder, the much-talked-of rainbow. Never varying, neverchanging, that perfect-shaped arc is surely more typical of eternitythere than anywhere else. Its perfection of colours seems to bereflected again and yet again in the roaring torrent, and to be also anemblem of peace where all is turmoil. We were hurried away to remove ourwet rainproof coats and to dry our hats and faces in the brilliantsunshine. It seemed as if the Falls guard their beauties jealously, anddo not allow the spectator to gaze on them without paying the price ofbeing saturated by their spray. For the next two hours we were takenfrom one point of vantage to the other, and yet felt we had not seenhalf of even what is known as the north side. We were shown the barelycommenced path leading right away down to the edge of the foaming, boiling gorge, which is to be known as "The Lovers' Walk, " and from itssteepness it occurred to me that these same lovers will require topossess some amount of endurance. We examined from afar the precipitousNeck jutting right out opposite the main cataract, its sides runningsheer down to unfathomable depths of water, which has caused this rockyformation to be called "The Knife's Edge, " and along which, up to thedate of our visit, only two men had ventured. We saw the actual sitefor the existing railway-bridge, which site had only been finallyselected a few days before by two of the party who were with us. [46] Thetravellers over this great work now see all we saw on that long morning, and a great deal more besides, while the carriage windows are soused bythe all-pervading spray, thus carrying out one of Mr. Rhodes's cherishedsentiments. Finally--musing at the marvellous and confusing twists andturns of the river, changing in character and appearance so as to bewellnigh unrecognizable--we walked on a hundred yards, and came upon adeep, deep gorge, rocky, barren, and repelling, at the bottom of which, sluggish and dirty in colour, a grey stream was winding its way, not ahundred yards wide, but of unfathomable depths; and this represented theZambesi _after_ it has taken its great leap, when, bereft of all lifeand beauty, it verily looks tired out. This gorge continues for fortymiles, and so desolate is the surrounding country, that not only is ituninhabited by man, but even game cannot live there. The shadows werelengthening and the day was approaching its close. Early on the morrowwe were to leave for the northern hunting grounds. We regained our canoe, and paddled away to our temporary camp. 

Again we were delighted with the calm beauty of that river scene, andfound it difficult to decide when it was most beautiful--whether themorning light best gilded its glories or whether the evening lentadditional calm. We passed island after island in bewilderingsuccession. Away towards the drift three huge black masses weresplashing in the water, which we easily made out to be hippopotamitaking their evening bath, and as we glided along a sleepy crocodileslipped back into the water from a muddy eminence where it had beenbasking in the sun. Then our canoe ran into a creek where leaves andferns grew in delightful confusion, and we landed in soft marshy groundjust as the sun was sinking like a red ball into the river, and givingway to the sovereignty of a glorious full moon, which soon tingedeverything with a silver light, making glades of palms look delightfullyromantic. 

Civilization has since found its way to Livingstone. Engines arewhistling and trains are rumbling where then the only tracks were madeby the huge hippos and the shy buck, but they can never efface thegrandeur of the river in its size and calmness; the incomparablemagnificence of the cataract itself; the rainbow, which one cannot seewithout retaining a lasting impression of its beauty; and, lastly, thatcloud of white spray, seemingly a sentinel to watch over the strengthand might of the huge river, for so many ages undiscovered. 

Many who knew the Falls in their pristine solitude have gladly welcomedthere the advent of twentieth-century developments, of sign-posts, ofadvertisements, of seats, of daily posts and papers; but others, some ofthe older pioneers, still, perchance, give a passing sigh for the dayswhen they paddled about the river in a leaky canoe, and letters andtelegrams were not events of everyday occurrence. 

In spite of the railway constructed since our visit, few people, comparatively, have been to North-Western Rhodesia, and yet it is acountry of over 400, 000 square miles. It was in October, 1897, that thethen administrator of the country, [47] with five policemen, crossed theZambesi and declared the territory to be under the protection of HerLate Gracious Majesty, Queen Victoria. For many years previously thenatives, who are not of a particularly warlike disposition, had beendecimated, and the country laid waste, by the fierce Matabele, who werein the habit of making periodical raids into this fair land, and ofkilling the old men and the young warriors, who made but a slightresistance; of annexing the attractive ladies as wives and the fatcattle as prized booty, and then of retreating again south of the mightyriver without fear of reprisals. For this reason there was, in 1903, avery meagre population for many hundreds of miles north of the Zambesiin this direction; and of cattle, for which there is pasture inabundance, there was hardly one to be seen. One has to travel muchfarther north and west to find the densely populated valleys, whoseinhabitants own Lewanika, Chief of the Barotse, as their ruler, who lookto the great white British King as their protector, and to the CharteredCompany as the immediate purveyor of their wants. 

Of these natives the chief tribes are, first, the Barotse themselves, who are the most numerous, and who inhabit the low-lying country alongthe Zambesi Valley north of Sesheke, and up to Lia-Lui, their capital. 

The second in importance are the Mushukulumbwe, which, translatedliterally, means "naked people. " This designation was given them as areproach by their friends, as the male element wear no clothes; andshould they possess a blanket, they would only throw it round theirshoulders whilst standing still or sitting down. When remonstrated withby the well-meaning missionaries on the absence of any attire, they arewont to reply: "Are we women or children, that we should fear the cold?Our fathers needed no clothes, nor do we. " They are keen hunters andtrackers, essentially a warlike people, tall and good-looking, while thewomen also are of more than average height, and gracefully made. Whatthe men lack in clothes they make up for in their head-dress, which hasbeen so often illustrated, and which is sometimes 5 feet in height. Itis the result of much care and trouble, and the cause of great pride tothe wearer. Ruled over by a number of small chiefs, they mostly ownLewanika as their paramount chief, and to him they pay tribute. They arewithal a curious, wild kind of people, but are now becoming less afraidof, and in consequence less hostile to, the white man, the first ofwhose race they saw in 1888, when Mr. Selous[48] penetrated into theircountry, and very nearly lost his life at their hands. Now they arewell-disposed, and it is safe to travel through their land with acomparatively small escort. 

Thirdly, the Batokas. These are, and always have been, a servile race. They are lazy in disposition, for the most part of unprepossessingappearance, and their country has the Kafue River on the east, and theZambesi on the south, as natural boundaries. As carriers they do fairlywell, and, while also owning Lewanika's authority, they are well awareof the fact that this chief only rules in virtue of the support of the"Great King" in a far-off land, whom they often hear of, but can neverhope to see. 

In consequence of having lived for so many generations in terror ofbeing raided by their more bellicose neighbours, all these tribesacclaimed with joy the advent of their English protectors, and theirdemeanour is strikingly expressive of gratitude and respect. This isevinced by their native greeting, which consists of sitting down andclapping their hands together in a slow rhythm whenever a white manpasses. Sometimes a traveller hears this clapping proceeding out of theimmensely high and thick grass which encloses the road, and he is bythis sound alone made aware of the presence of a human being. Their foodconsists entirely of grain, which they greatly prefer to meat, even whenthis is offered to them. They boil this grain, which resembles millet orcanary seed, into a sort of porridge, which they eat with the greatestgusto, and one meal a day seems to suffice them. 

And now to describe the fatherland of these natives, just emerging as itis from darkness and strife to prosperity, peace, and, quite possibly, riches beyond the dreams of avarice, but in any case riches, sufficiently proved to enable it to take its place ere long among thetreasure-producing territories of God's earth. Once north of theZambesi, and with the thunder of those magnificent Falls still ringingin one's ears, two things were evident even to the most casualtraveller--viz. , the changed aspect of the country and of itsinhabitants. Of the latter and of their quaint greeting I have alreadyspoken. And as regards the road itself and the surrounding landscapethere is a still greater change. Instead of a track of deep sand blockedwith huge stones or by veritable chasms of soft, crumbling earth, onefinds there good roads, while numerous streams of clear running waterconstantly intersect the highway. In England it is difficult to realizethe inestimable boon this plentiful supply of water is to the travellerand his beasts, who are thereby saved the very serious necessity offrequently having to push on, weary and thirsty, another stretch ofeight or ten miles, simply because of the oft-heard cry, "No water. " Thescenery itself is fair and restful to the eye; there are no hugemountains, no precipitous dongas, yet an ever-changing kaleidoscopewhich prevents any monotony. Now the road winds for several milesthrough woods and some small trees; again, these are left behind, andthe traveller emerges on plains of yellow waving grass (so high as tohide both horse and rider), resembling from afar an Englishbarleyfield, and broken up by clumps of symmetrically arranged trees. In these clumps the tropical euphorbia sends up its long and gracefulshoots, reminding one of Gargantuan candelabra, and the huge "baobab, "of unwieldy bulk, seems to stand as the sentinel stretching out its barearms to protect those who shelter beneath. These trees are the greatfeature of the country, owing to the enormous size they attain, and tothe fact that, being the slowest-growing trees known, their ages canonly be reckoned by thousands of years. Except these kings of theforest, the trees indigenous to the land are somewhat dwarfed, but cactiof all kinds flourish, clinging to and hanging from the branches of themahogany and of the "m'pani" trees, looking now and then for all theworld like long green snakes. The "m'hoba-hoba" bush, with its enormousleaves, much loved by the elephant, forms patches of vivid green summerand winter. This shrub is supposed to have been introduced by thePhoenicians, when these wonderful people were occupied with theirmineral workings in this land, the remains of which are to be seen inmany places. In the grass itself, and round the edge of these groups soartistically assorted by the hand of Nature, lies slyly hidden the"wait-a-bit" bush, [49] according to the literal translation from theDutch, whose thorny entanglements no one can gauge unless fairlycaught. 

During July and August, which is mid-winter, the grass plains are set onfire, in parts purposely, but sometimes accidentally. They are usuallyleft intact near the road, for transport oxen find plenty of pasture inthe coarse high grass which no other animal will touch; but the seekerafter game will burn miles and miles of this grass when it issufficiently dry at the roots. It has acted as a sheltering mantle forits four-footed population for many months, and now the "hunters' moon"is fairly risen and the buck must beware. Therefore, if one leaves theroad for two or three miles to the right or left, vast black plains arediscovered, on which only about a fortnight after burning a very vividgreen, and, it is said, a very sweet, grass springs up, which game ofall sorts greatly love. Here they graze in herds morning and evening, and here probably they meet their death--but of this more anon. It tookour party ten days to reach Kalomo, [50] then the capital ofNorth-Western Rhodesia. This included a six days' halt in quest of gameon a rocky kopje eight miles off the road--a veritable Spion Kop, risingfrom a flat country and commanding views for miles round. 

As regards travelling, I can only say it was very comfortable as we didit. Riding ourselves, our baggage (divided into loads each weighingabout 30 pounds) was carried by natives, who generally preceded us outof camp. The day's journey was divided as follows: Up before the sun, and dressing by the uncertain light of a candle lantern. It was coldenough to render no dawdling possible, and one hurried one's toilet inorder to get to the already brightly burning fire and steaming hotcoffee. The sun would just then be showing its red head in the far east, and already the camp was in commotion; tents were being struck, beddingrolled up, while a certain amount of scrambling would be going onamongst the cunning blacks, each wishing to possess himself of thelightest load. To prevent shirking, one or two of the native police whoaccompanied us watched the proceeding with lynx-like eyes, and, amidmuch arguing, chattering, and apparent confusion, a long line ofcarriers would emerge like a black snake from the camping-ground into anorderly string--quaint figures, some of them wrapped in gaudy blankets, and even then shivering in the keen morning air; some with their load ontheir heads, others carrying it on long sticks, all with the inevitablenative vessel, fashioned from a gourd, containing their daily ration ofgrain. As a supplement to these carriers, we were also accompanied bythe (in Africa) familiar "Scotch cart. " In other words, this is a strongcart on two wheels, drawn by bullocks, and its usual pace is about twoand a half miles an hour. It apparently possesses the delightfulqualification of being able to travel on any road, no matter how rough, without breaking down or turning over; in fact, when travelling by roadin Africa, it facilitates matters as much as the employment of acharwoman oils the wheels in an English household, and it is thereforeas much to be recommended. 

We ride for an hour or so with coats tightly buttoned up, blue noses, and frozen fingers--for the hoar-frost still lingers on the ground--butthe air is delightfully exhilarating, and we know that we shall not haveto complain of the cold long. By degrees the sun makes itself felt, andwe discard first one wrap and then another, till by ten o'clock evenlight overcoats are not required. And now it is time to "off-saddle" andbreakfast. The carriers straggle in more or less in the order they left, but they gladly "dump" down their loads, and before many minutes thefire is burning and the breakfast frizzling. After breakfast comes themidday rest of two or three hours, beguiled by some ancient newspapersor some dust-begrimed book. It is remarkable that, when far away fromhome, the date of a newspaper is of little import, while none are voteddull, and one finds oneself reading the most obscure publications, andvaguely wondering how or why they reached this distant land. At twoo'clock marching orders come again. This is the hot trek, but there isgenerally a cool breeze to temper the fierce rays of the winter's sun;and when that sun gets low down on to the horizon, and becomes a crimsonball, tingeing the world with its rosy hue, we look about for ourevening resting-place. During our journey to Kalomo, as well as on oursouthward route a month later, we enjoyed the light of a glorious moon, whose assistance to the traveller cannot be exaggerated when the shorttwilight is remembered. By the moon we frequently made our camp, by themoon we dined. Those were never-to-be-forgotten evenings, spent on thatlonely veldt all bathed in silver light. We also had excitements--muchlions' spoor on the roads by day, many scares of lions round the campsby night, when the danger is that the horses may be taken while the campis asleep. Every evening our animals were put into a "skerm, " or highpalisade, constructed of branches by the ubiquitous carriers withmarvellous rapidity. 

One dark night before the moon had risen, just as we had finished dinnerand were sitting round the fire listening to thrilling stories of sportand adventure, a terrific noise suddenly disturbed our peacefulcircle--a noise which proceeded from a dark mass of thick bush not 200yards away, and recalled one's childish recollections of "feeding-time"at the Zoo. Not one, but five or six lions, might have been thus near tous from the volume of growls and snarls, varied by short deep grunts, which broke the intense stillness of the night in this weird fashion. Each man rushed for his rifle, but it was too dark to shoot, andgradually the noise died away. The natives opined it was a slightdifference of opinion between some wolves and a lion, which animals, curiously enough, very often hunt in company, the lion doing thekilling, and the wolf prowling along behind and picking up the scraps. It was but an incident, but it served as an uncanny reminder of the manyeyes of the animal world, which, though unseen, are often watchingtravellers in these solitudes. Another night, when we were encamped inthe very heart of a rumoured "lion country, " ourselves and our beastssecurely protected by an unusually high and thick "skerm, " we were, toour regret, left undisturbed; but the aforementioned Scotch cart, whichrumbled away from the sleeping camp about midnight, had a series ofadventures with _Leo felis_. Sniffing the fat oxen, no less than threelions followed the waggon all night, charging close up at times, andfinally causing the oxen to stampede, in consequence of which, insteadof finding the precious vehicle, containing grain for carriers andforage for horses, at the next outspan, we did not come up with it tillevening, nearly thirty miles farther on, when we learnt the adventuresit had had. 

The truth regarding lion-shooting in these parts is, that the animalsare exceedingly difficult to locate, and the finding of them is a matterof pure luck. The traveller may, of course, meet a lion on the road bybroad daylight; but many experienced hunters, who count their slainlions by the dozen, will tell you they were years in the country beforethey ever saw the kings of beasts, and these are men who do not belittlethe danger incurred in hunting them. One old hunter is supposed to havesaid to an enthusiastic newcomer, who had heard of a lion in thevicinity, and immediately asked the old stager if he were going afterit: "I have not lost any lions, therefore I am not looking for any";but, all the same, to kill one or more fine specimens will ever remainthe summit of the ambition of the hunter, and unquestionably the spiceof danger is one of the attractions. 

At the time of which I write the township of Kalomo consisted of abouttwenty white people, including the Administrator, his secretary andstaff; the Chancellor of the Exchequer, or Accountant, who controlledthe purse; a doctor, whose time was fairly well taken up; an aspiringlight of the legal profession, who made and interpreted the laws; and, finally, the gallant Colonel and officers of the North-Western RhodesiaNative Police, a smart body of 380 natives, officered by eleven ortwelve Englishmen. To Colonel Colin Harding, C. M. G. , was due the creditof recruiting and drilling this smart corps, and it was difficult tobelieve that these soldierly-looking men, very spruce in their dark bluetunics and caps, from which depend enormous red tassels, were only ashort time ago idling away their days in uninviting native kraals. 

I was much impressed in a Kalomo house with the small details of acarefully arranged dinner-table, adorned with flowers and snowy linen;the cooking was entirely done by black boys, and of these the "Chinde"boys from the Portuguese settlements are much sought after, and cannotbe excelled as cooks or servants, so thoroughly do the Portugueseunderstand the training of natives. The staple meat was buck of allkinds; sheep were wellnigh unknown, oxen were scarce and their meattough; but no one need grumble at a diet of buck, wild-pig, koran, [51]guinea-fowl, and occasionally wild-duck. As regards other necessities oflife, transport difficulties were enormous; every ounce of food besidesmeat, and including precious liquids, had then to be dragged overnearly 250 miles of indifferent roads; and not only groceries, butfurniture, roofs of houses, clothes--all had to be ordered six to eightmonths before they were required, and even then disappointments occurredin the way of waggons breaking down, of delays at the rail-head and atthe crossing of the river. To us who are accustomed to the daily callsof the butcher, the baker, and the grocer, the foresight which had to beexercised is difficult to realize, and with the best management in theworld great philosophy was required to put up with the minor wants. 

As to the climate of North-Western Rhodesia in the dry season--whichlasts from April or May to November, or even later--it is ideal. Nevertoo hot to prevent travelling or doing business in the heat of the day, it is cold enough morning and evening to make fur coats by no meanssuperfluous; rain is unknown, and of wind there is just enough to bepleasant, although now and then, especially towards sunset or beforedawn, a very strong breeze springs up from a cloudless horizon, lastsabout thirty minutes, making the trees bend and tents flap and rattle, and then dies away again as suddenly as it has come. Sometimes, in theearly morning, this breeze is of an icy coldness, and might be blowingstraight from the South Pole. During the dry season the traveller shouldnot contract fever, unless he happens to have the germs in his system, and in this case he may have been immune the whole wet season, and thenthe first cold weather brings out the disease and lays him low. 

I must now devote a few words to the veldt and to its animal life as welearnt to know it during some delightful weeks spent in camp eight milesfrom the township, where game was then still abundant. There we lived incomfortable tents, and our dining-room was built of grass held in placeby substantial sticks. The delight of those days is fresh in my memory. Up and on our horses at dawn, we would wander over this open country, intersected with tracks of forest. The great charm was the uncertaintyof the species of game we might discover. It might be a huge eland, oran agile pig, or a herd of beautiful zebra. Now and then a certainamount of stalking was required, and on one occasion a long ride roundbrought us to the edge of a wood, from whence we viewed at twenty yardsa procession of wildebeeste--those animals of almost mythicalappearance, with their heads like horses and their bodies likecattle--roan antelope, and haartebeeste; but as a rule, the game havingbeen so little shot at, with an ordinary amount of care the hunter canride to within shooting distance of the animal he would fain lay low. Should they take fright and be off, we found to gallop after them wasnot much use, owing to the roughness of the veldt and the smallness ofthe ponies. Occasionally we had to pursue a wounded animal, and one daywe had an exciting chase after a wildebeeste, the most difficult of allbucks to kill, as their vitality, unless absolutely shot through theheart, is marvellous. When we at last overtook and finished off the poorcreature, we had out-distanced all our "boys, " and it became necessaryfor my fellow-sportsman to ride off and look for them (as the meat hadto be cut up and carried into camp), and for me to remain behind to keepthe aas-vogels from devouring the carcass. These huge birds and usefulscavengers, repulsive as they are to look at, always appear from spacewhenever a buck is dead, and five minutes suffices for a party of themto be busily employed, while a quarter of an hour later nothing is leftbut the bones. Therefore I was left alone with the dead wildebeeste andwith the circling aas-vogels for upwards of two hours, and I realized, as I had never done before, the intense loneliness of the veldt, andsomething of what the horror must be of being lost on it. Even residentshave to dread this danger. 

At that season the veldt boasted of few flowers, but birds wereplentiful, especially the large ones I have mentioned as forming avaluable addition to the daily menu, and flocks of guinea-fowl, whichrun along the ground making a peculiar chuckling noise, rarely flying, but very quick at disappearing in the long grass. The quaintsecretary-bird was often to be seen stalking majestically along, solitary and grotesque, with its high marching action. Then thehoney-birds must not be forgotten. They give voice to their peculiarnote as soon as they see a human being, whom they seem to implore tofollow them; and if they succeed in attracting attention, they fly fromtree to tree reiterating their call, till they lead the man whoseassistance they have sought to the spot where the honey is hidden, butwhich they cannot reach unaided. As a rule, it is the natives who takethe trouble to obey their call and turn it to account. 

The weeks slipped by all too quickly, and it was soon time to bidfarewell to Kalomo and its game-haunted flats, over which the iron horsenow winds its prosaic course on its way to the dim, mysterious North, bringing noise and bustle in its train. In consequence the hunter andthe animal-lover have to travel farther on, but there will always beroom for all on that vast continent. 

No matter what paths of life it may be the fortune of my readers totread, let me recommend those wearied with social bustle and the emptyamenities of present-day existence to pass a few weeks in thecomparative solitude of several pleasant companions "under the stars"in North-Western Rhodesia, where they can still catch a glimpse of theelusive zebras, with coats shining in the sun like burnished steel, andhear the persistent call of the honey-bird. At night the roar of lionsmay now and then cause them to turn in their sleep, and in their dreamsthey may have visions of the animals that have charmed them during theday--the stately eland, the graceful roan and sable antelopes, theungainly wildebeeste, and the funny old wart-hog, trotting along withhigh action and tail erect. Besides gaining health and experiencing thekeenest enjoyment, they will know some of the pleasures vouchsafed tothose of their countrymen whose fate it is to live, and sometimes todie, in far-off climes--men who have helped to make England famous, andare now, step by step, building up our mighty Empire. Curious are thelives these men, and many like them, lead, cut off as it were from thebustling, throbbing world. A handful of white men, surrounded bythousands of blacks, with calm complacency they proceed, first toimpress on the natives the importance, the might, and the justice, ofthe great Empire which they represent in their various capacities; thento establish beyond question their own dignity and wisdom; and finallyto make themselves as comfortable, and their surroundings as attractiveand homelike, as possible, with such means as they can command. Theyare to be seen superintending a court of justice, looked up to andtrusted by the natives, who have quickly found out that the "boss" isjust, firm, and that he will not believe a falsehood. The blacks havetheir native names for all these officials, most of them showing greatdiscernment, and some of quite an affectionate nature. 

The Commissioners, whose work is entirely among the native population, requiring the greatest tact and patience, besides a perfect knowledge ofthe language, lead, perhaps, the most arduous, as well as the mostlonely, existences. Most of the year is occupied in making tours ofinspection through their vast districts; they live continually in theopen, in constant contact with Nature, and for weeks together they neversee a white man. Almost unattended, they move fearlessly in little-knownplaces, among an uncivilized if friendly people, and to some extent theyhave their lives in their hands. And yet they do not regard theirsolitary existence as anything to occasion surprise or admiration; theyrealize the importance of their mission, and wet seasons, bad attacks offever, and impaired health, do not quench their energy or their keennessfor the great work of development. It is true, indeed, that one and alllive in anticipation of the biennial holiday, of the seven months spent"at home, " and that all events in their lives are dated from thoseprecious days in England; and then, when the time comes to return toduty, they probably depart without a murmur, and very few, if any, wouldexchange a life in an office, or that of any ordinary profession inEngland, for the one, untrammelled and free, they lead in the wilds ofAfrica. As distractions in this life which they love, they can only lookto the weekly mail and the goodly supply of illustrated papers fromhome, the attentive perusal of which has made them almost as conversantas the veriest Cockney with all the people of note and the fair women ofthe time, besides giving them an intimate knowledge of passing events. As hosts they are perfection, and all they have is at their guests'disposal. Their incentive to the great work for ever going on, not onlyin their district, but in so many far-away localities where the UnionJack flies, is the knowledge that the dark clouds of oppression, plunder, and crime, are, in consequence of their efforts, rolling awayas mists disappear before the rising sun. 

FOOTNOTES:

[44] Some parts of this chapter appeared in the Christmas number of the_Pall Mall Magazine_, 1903, and in the _Bulawayo Chronicle_ of the samedate. 

[45] Introduction to Mr. Grogan's work, "From the Cape to Cairo. "

[46] Sir Charles Metcalfe, Bart. , consulting engineer of the CharteredCompany, and Mr. G. Pauling, contractor for the same company. 

[47] R. T. Coryndon, Esq. 

[48] "Life and Adventures in South-East Africa, " by F. C. Selous. 

[49] _Wacht-een-bietze. _

[50] The seat of government has since been transferred to Livingstone, on the Zambesi. 

[51] A kind of pheasant. 

APPENDIX I

MAFEKING RELIEF FUND

_Distribution Committee_. 

LIEUTENANT-COLONEL C. B. VYVYAN, Commandant of Mafeking. 

MR. C. G. BELL, Resident Magistrate. 

MR. A. H. FREND, Mayor. 

 Total amount made available for distribution £29, 267

 Of which the Committee allotted to: £ Widows and orphans 6, 536 Refugees 4, 630 Town relief 3, 741 Seaside Fund 2, 900 Churches, convent, schools, etc. 2, 900 Wounded men 2, 245 Small tradesmen 1, 765 Hospital staff, nuns, etc. 1, 115 Colonel Plumer's Rhodesian Column, etc. 1, 000 ------- £26, 832

_June_ 6, 1909. 

The "Rainy Day Fund, " formed from the balance of the Relief Fund, stillexists, and though the amount now in it is small, it is sufficient toenable the Trustees (Mayor of Mafeking and Civil Commissioner) to makeoccasional grants in cases of distress among those who suffered duringthe siege, or who have fallen on evil days since. 

MAFEKING FUND, 1900. 

 £ Collected by Lady Georgiana Curzon 24, 000 Collected by Colonel Baden-Powell's school comrades at Charterhouse (in addition to gifts in kind) 1, 150 Collected by Lady Snagge (£643) and _Birmingham Argus_ (£350) for sending nurses, women, and children, to seaside 993 The following sent over £100 each: Conservative Club, Liverpool. Melbourne Club. Luton. Mr. Butler, of Wellington, New Zealand. Tunbridge Wells Imperial Association. Right Hon. C. J. Rhodes. Swansea, Wales. Salisbury, Mashonaland. Mr. J. Garlick, of Cape Town. Mayor of Brighton. Raleigh Club, London. Ilfracombe. Mr. William Nicol. Sent by Lord Mayor of London from Mansion House Fund 200

Mr. Leonard Rayne, theatrical impresario, of South Africa, inauguratedthe "Rayney Day Fund, " with a view to ultimate calls for relief bymembers of the garrison in years to come. 

APPENDIX II

IMPERIAL YEOMANRY HOSPITALS, 1900-1902. 

December 29, appeal signed by Lady Georgiana Curzon and Lady Cheshamsent from Blenheim Palace. 

_President_: THE QUEEN. 

_Vice-Presidents_: THE PRINCESS OF WALES and DUCHESS OF CONNAUGHT. 

_Chairman of Committee_: COUNTESS HOWE. 

_Vice-Chairmen of Committee_: COUNTESS OF WARWICK and VISCOUNTESSVALENTIA. 

_Hon. Secretary_: EARL HOWE. 

_Treasurer_: LUDWIG NEUMANN, ESQ. 

_Military Adviser_: MAJOR-GENERAL LORD CHEYLESMORE. 

_Hon. Civilian Director and Treasurer in South Africa_: J. G. HAMILTON, ESQ. 

 £ s. D. Subscriptions received between issue of first appeal and issue of interim report in April, 1900, £127, 000. During the whole time the subscriptions (including the first) totalled 145, 325 15 7

 Sale of base hospital realized 15, 000 0 0

 Government subsidy for prolonging maintenance of field-hospital and bearer company, January 1 to March 31, 1901 3, 000 0 0

 Sale of Elandsfontein Hospital 9, 051 9 6

 Bankers' interest to December 31, 1901 1, 635 12 9 --------------- £174, 012 17 10

From first to last, various staffs numbered over 1, 400 persons, and20, 000 patients received medical aid in the different YeomanryHospitals. 

When the staff returned to England, medals were presented to them atDevonshire House by the Queen. 

DEELFONTEIN BASE HOSPITAL: Opened March 5, 1900; closed March 31, 1901. Originally with 500 beds, subsequently increased to 1, 000 beds. 6, 093in-patients, including 351 officers, were treated there. 

MACKENZIE'S FARM, MAITLAND CAMP, BASE HOSPITAL: Opened August 2, 1900;closed March 31, 1901. Originally with 100 beds, subsequently increasedto 150. 1, 066 patients treated. 

EASTWOOD, PRETORIA, BASE HOSPITAL: Opened August 18, 1900; closedSeptember 30, 1901. Originally with 400 beds, subsequently increased to564 beds. 5, 227 in-patients, including 466 officers, and 1, 095out-patients, treated. 

ELANDSFONTEIN BASE HOSPITAL: Opened June 29, 1901; closed December 19, 1901. Originally with 50 beds, subsequently increased to 138 beds. 823in-patients, including 27 officers, and 900 out-patients, treated. 

CHESHAM CONVALESCENT HOME AT JOHANNESBURG (for Officers only): OpenedMarch 1, 1901; closed October 10, 1901. 8 beds. 79 patients received. 

FIELD-HOSPITAL AND BEARER COMPANY, with 100 beds, left England in March, 1900; opened at the seat of war in South Africa on April 12, 1900;closed April 1, 1901, having remained three months longer than wasoriginally arranged for. Subsidy of £3, 000 received from Government forthis purpose. 

IMPERIAL YEOMANRY HOSPITALS. 

 _General Committee:_ Ninety ladies, whose names are given in the first volume of the Imperial Yeomanry Hospitals Report. 

 _General Working Committee:_ Lady Georgiana Curzon (Chairman). Adeline, Duchess of Bedford. The Duchess of Marlborough. The Countess of Dudley. The Countess of Essex. The Ladies Tweedmouth and Chesham (went to Deelfontein in early days of Imperial Yeomanry Hospitals). Mrs. S. Neumann. Mrs. A. G. Lucas. Mrs. Blencowe Cookson. Mrs. Julius Wernher (now Lady Wernher). Madame von Andre. 

 _Finance Committee:_ Viscount Curzon, M. P. (now Earl Howe). Mr. Ludwig Neumann. Adeline, Duchess of Bedford. Lady Chesham. Lady Georgiana Curzon. 

 _Press Committee:_ The Countess of Dudley. The Countess of Essex. Madame von Andre. The Duchess of Marlborough. Lady Georgiana Curzon. 

 _Transport Committee:_ Lady Tweedmouth. } Mrs. Julius Wernher. } Assisted by Major Haggard Mrs. S. Neumann. } and General Eaton. Mrs. A. G. Lucas. } Lady Georgiana Curzon. }

 _Gifts and Purchase Committee:_ The Countess of Essex. } Lady Tweedmouth. } Assisted by General Mrs. A. G. Lucas. } Eaton, Colonel Sloggett Mrs. S. Neumann. } and Mr. Fripp, and Lady Georgiana Curzon. } Mr. Oliver Williams. 

 _Medical, Nursing, and General Staffs Committee:_ The Duchess of Marlborough. } Adeline, Duchess of Bedford. } Assisted by General The Countess of Warwick. } Eaton, Colonel Sloggett Lady Chesham. } and Mr. A. Downing Madame von Andre. } Fripp. Lady Georgiana Curzon. }

The chief workers in Ireland were: The Countess of Longford, LadyAnnette La Touche, and Mrs. Pirrie; but they were only on the GeneralCommittee, not on any of the subcommittees. 

THE END