“The picture of my wandering life”.
“The picture of my wandering life”.
“The picture of my wandering life”.
And here you have the picture of my wandering life. When I could set up the tent under shady trees and cover the floor with green grass, then I felt thoroughly happy and content. Often when in such a good place I thought to myself, “If only I could stay here quietly for some time how happy and pleasant it would be!” And sometimes I had the good fortune to be able to stay for two days or a week in such a spot. But at other times it would happen that just as I had got everything in good order, then the “khakis” would be upon us and everything would have to be taken down quickly to make a fresh start.Often we fled until the middle of the night, and when we could stop to rest it would be so dark that it was impossible to see one’s hands before one’s eyes. Yet the tent would have to be put up before we could get to sleep.
When I saw the bright sun shining in the morning, often I thought, “How much pleasanter the sunlight is than the darkness; what joy will it be for me when the sun of peace is shining for me again!” Then again I would come to a whole district where not a tree or cool spot was to be found. The only cool place would be just under the waggon, on the ground, and that was so uncomfortable that I could not help sometimes crying out, “Why should I have to suffer so grievously?” but the next moment I would think, “After the bitter comes the sweet.” When I left myhouse and went into Lichtenburg to live in the village, because I felt so lonely on my farm, I thought I was going to stay there until the war should come to an end. I never imagined that I should never set foot in my house again. I was always particular to keep my house neat and clean; it was the greatest pleasure I had to keep my home in good order. I used to think sometimes, “Perhaps it is not right that I should think so much of my house,” and yet I could not help it. A pretty home on a farm, with abundance of cattle and all that is needful, always seemed to me the happiest life. When I was wandering over the veldt with a tent, and especially when I came to dusty and sandy places, I kept thinking all the time of my house, so clean and so cool. The day they told me that it had been destroyed Icould not keep my tears back. It was so hard out on the veldt and I had longed so often for my house; now I had to hear that it had been broken up and razed to the ground.
But I told myself quickly that I must not weep. “Why should I be better off than all my fellow-sufferers whose houses had also been broken up or burned down?”
I went back again, this time to Gestoptefontein. That evening General De la Rey was in the neighbourhood, but I knew nothing of his movements nor he of mine. But he arrived the next morning, for the English were now closing up on every side. I got breakfast ready, and after the men had had something to eat, off they had to go again, this time to trek up against Methuen. I remained in Gestoptefontein so as to beable to find out where the troops were moving; and it was soon reported to me that they were coming in my direction. These were the troops from Klerksdorp, so there we were again, exposed to the danger of being surrounded. So many of us came trekking on that we kept getting into one another’s path; but we could only say, “The more the merrier,” and go on without losing courage. “Now we should have to go to Waagkraal,” said everybody. I said, “Very well, the place has a good name, and so we can venture it.” It was a very dark night when we reached there. We were all hungry, and had first of all to get our food ready. After that we went to sleep, and early the next morning a couple of hundred of our burghers arrived also.
They were all going nearer now to see whatthey could do against the English forces, but there were so many troops they could not tell where to begin.
Most of them went on towards Methuen’s laager to see what they could find to do there. The enemy’s troops moved forward to meet them. Our burghers were now in Pretorius’s place, where I had been staying quite lately; the English army was coming up along the Harts River.
I was now so far from the Boer laager that I began to fear that if the English drove them away I should certainly fall into the hands of the enemy. We waited in great anxiety to hear what would be the result of the battle. The country was very bare and exposed just there, and as the troops had many guns with them it was dreadful to think of the fighting. Yet on the evening of the 1st of March therecame a report that the laager was taken and that Lord Methuen had been wounded. I could not believe that Lord Methuen was really wounded. The following morning I felt a great wish to pay a visit to the laager. I had my horses harnessed and started. I had to drive a good way—it seemed to me for nearly four hours—and although I had wanted to go back the same day to my waggons, I found it would be too late to do so. I arrived at the laager in the afternoon, and there I found an enormous crowd of men and animals. I asked my husband if really Lord Methuen were here. “Yes,” he answered, “it is the man who sent you out of Lichtenburg.” “Then I shall go and see him,” I said. I went with my daughter, and we found him, quartered with a few tents and waggons, a little distance from the laager. WhenI got there, one of our people, a man called Tom, said that he did not want to see any visitors. Yes, that I could well understand, that it was not pleasant for him to see the Boers. All the same, when he heard that I was there, he said that I might come in—that he would like to see me. I went into his tent; there lay the great, strong man wounded above the knee, right through the bone. When I had come in he begged me to forgive him for all the annoyance he had caused me, and he asked if I had suffered much discomfort from all that running away. “No,” I said, “it all went much better than I had expected. I did not even have to do my best to escape from falling into your hands.”
“Oh,” said he, “I have done my best to catch you.” And so we “chaffed” each other. As it was a difficult position forboth of us, I asked him if his leg were hurting him very much. He said, “No, not very much.”
“Then it won’t be a good thing for us,” I said, “if your leg gets cured so quickly, then you will come and shoot at us again.”
He laughed and said, “No, I am going away, and I will not shoot at you any more.”
Then he told me all about Lichtenburg, and how things were going there, and he said that my houses were still unharmed.
I said, “But my dwelling-house has been destroyed.”
“Oh, yes,” he said, “that had to be broken down. General De la Rey might have been coming to it some fine morning and firing at me out of it. That was why it had to be broken down.”
Then he told me how glad he was to be able to go back to Klerksdorp, and he asked me to let the telegram to his wife be sent off as quickly as possible.
Then, as I also wanted to send a telegram to my children in Pretoria, I told him that he must take good care of it and forward it, so that they too should be sure to get it. Yes, he said, he would not fail to do so. And he was true to his word; for when I met my children later they said they had received it.
Then it grew late and it was time to return. I wished him a speedy recovery. When I came to the laager they gave me one of the waggons which they had taken from the enemy to sleep in. It was late and I had to see to our dinner. But everything seemed in such a muddle among allthese menfolk; I did not know where to lay my hand upon what I wanted.
There were a few Kaffirs belonging to the English there, and these had to help me with my work that evening. It seemed just as if these English Kaffirs were thinking, “How aggravating it is to have to do with the Boer women;” but that did not help them a bit—they had to work.
Fortunately, there was a water dam near the waggon, and we had an abundance of water. I got dinner ready, but nobody made his appearance; it was very late when at last the men arrived. They had been keeping the prayer hour. General De la Key said, and I was very glad to hear it; for does not everything depend on the blessing of God? After dinner we went to bed; and the next morning, as it was theSabbath, we went to the laager where service was to be held by a missionary who still remained with our commandoes. We had hoped to take part in a pleasant service, but there was a good deal of discontent among the people because Lord Methuen was to be set free, and the preacher took for a text, “That it would be displeasing unto the Lord did we allow such a man, who had dealt so cruelly with our women and children, to escape untried.”
I said, “How bitter is the lot of man! We were all going to praise the Lord, and now there is so much sin among us that we should rather weep.” But it was true; it seemed almost impossible to be charitable when one thought of all that had happened to so many women and children.
They made Methuen come back. GeneralDe la Rey said to the burghers, “There he is, what do you want me to do to him?”
When they had all heard what General De la Rey had to say about the matter, it was agreed to leave it to the officers, and these decided to let him go free.
General De la Rey came up to my waggon, and just then Tom came straight from Lord Methuen and told us how he was longing to go back, and that he was quite ill from dread at the thought of having to go on again.
I had a fat chicken killed, and I took some biscuits and sent them with the chicken to the wounded lord.
However it may be, I could not bring myself to think it right to be so cruel. People kept asking me how it was possiblethat I could be kind to such a man. I said that so far I had never learned to hate anyone, and that therefore I could still do good to my adversary; especially when God gave me the grace and the strength to prove to my enemy that, in spite of all the desolation and destruction he had wrought, there still remained something over for me.
We were camping here under some lovely trees. All my people had got here now, and many others kept coming for clothes and tarpaulins and all kinds of necessaries, so that fresh heart was put into them to push forward with their task.
After a few days we heard that a large number of “khakis” were coming on from Klerksdorp.
“Yes,” I said, “now they will be after theBoers again.” General De la Rey went to the commando to see that all should be ready to receive the “khakis” when they came. However, they kept quiet for the moment in Klerksdorp.
I had pitched my tent in a lovely little wood. Everything was looking very well; the veldt was in good condition; my cattle were all doing very well when suddenly the pest broke out among my animals. This was very disappointing; however, it did not go so very badly with them.
The week had come to an end, and I was just going to sleep on Saturday night when suddenly General De la Rey and Ferreira and young Coos came up to my waggon.
“I was not to wait for them,” they said, “there was such a large number of troops in Klerksdorp, and we were not so very far fromthem.” After they had had something to eat, we went to sleep. On Sunday everything was quiet. President Steyn had also joined us. We all met in the morning at service, and I asked President Steyn to come and dine with us that day. We had a very pleasant time, and heard nothing more of the English.
Early on Monday morning, just as I had got up, there came a man all red with blood asking, “Where is the General?” “Here he is,” I said. “General,” he cried, “there are the English.” The horses were quickly saddled. I did not know how to hurry enough, to get all my things packed, the “khakis” were now so near; however, we had all learned to get ready quickly when the enemy was coming. Very soon we had finished everything and off we started again,keeping a good look-out to see that the troops were not closing upon us.
Very soon we had formed into a very large “trek.”
We started off from Brakspruit. At one o’clock in the afternoon we stopped to rest, still not knowing what had happened in the night. Later came a rumour that the troops had taken a great many prisoners that night, and among others all the members of General De la Rey’s staff. “What a fortunate thing,” I said, “that he had been in the waggon that night; if it had not been for that he might very well have been taken also. It was a merciful ordinance of the Almighty that had so guided his steps.” We did not know at the time if all had been taken or killed.
I went to the place of Roodewal; there we all waited, including President Steyn. Wekept a feast day there, Dominie Kestell holding the service. We found a large community, with many women and children. I was surprised to see how well they were looking. It was now Saturday. On Sunday we had to fly once more, this time towards the Harts River. From there we went on to Coetzee’s place, where we arrived late in the evening. Still later, General De la Rey arrived with his men.
In the morning, after we had had breakfast, the burghers all went back to the commando. I got everything ready for our dinner and set it to cook, and then went for a moment to the waggon of one of my friends. We were sitting there talking, when suddenly there were the cannon reverberating again not very far from us. Everyone tried to get ready before everyone else; it was not verylong before we were all once more on the “trek.” There was now a very large number of waggons driving on together. Some went towards the clumps of trees, others went on over the veldt where there was no road. “It will go hard with us to-day,” I thought, “the whole country is so bare; they can see us from a very long way off.” Little Coos was close to my waggons. He dashed off alone towards the commando. I felt very nervous lest he might come suddenly upon the troops. The battle went on; the people in the waggons had to get away from it as best they could. Later it began to rain. In the afternoon things were quiet, so that we were able to make a halt. The food that I had half cooked in the morning had to go once more over the fire. “It will soon be ready now,” I said.
In the evening we went on again. We heard that the camp of the “khakis” was in Brakspruit, at no great distance from us.
Now we waited to hear in what direction they were moving. The following day it began to rain very hard. I had no wood to make a fire. We were standing there on a barren rise, looking out to see which way we should have to go, and here and there I saw an ant-heap burning. I said to the boy,[5]“Set one on fire for us, and put on the ‘kastrol’[6]and let us try to get something ready to eat.” I had a large green sailcloth, and out of this I made a screen, so that there was lots of room to keep dry in, and very soon I had plenty of company round me. That helped to make the time pass, but asfor eating or drinking, we could do neither. It took a very long time before the ant-hill began to burn. I thought, “If only the ‘khakis’ would wait till our food could be cooked!” We got on so slowly with the ant-hill, the “pap” would not boil. Simson was doing all he could to make the fire burn up—we were all very hungry. At last there was some good soup ready, and we had friends with us to help us eat it, so that we began to enjoy ourselves. We had just finished when there came the order, “inspan.” Very quickly we got ready, and away we went once more. That evening we had to drive on till very late. It grew so dark that we could scarcely see anything, and yet we could not make a halt. My boy asked what he should do, as he could not tell whether he were on the right pathor not. My oxen toiled on slowly, and I said that we had better stick to the path and go on. We could not outspan, as I had no idea where we were, and we did not even know now if we were still on the path that the people in the waggons had taken. On we went, and at last, late in the night, came to the waggons. All was silent; everyone was fast asleep. I had nothing that I could give the children to eat; and the first thing I wanted to do was to milk the cows. We waited a little, but no cows came up. We had gone one way and they the other; we could not get to them that night. I told the boy to take an ox-yoke and chop it up for firewood, so as to be able to get some water boiled and make tea. After we had had tea I went to sleep. The Kaffirs started out very early in the morning to look forthe cows. The boy had been very good; he had looked after them the whole night, and he now came up to us with all the animals. The calves were close to the waggons, and the Kaffirs set to work at once to milk the cows. How glad the children were to be able to come to the pailful of milk!
[5]A Kaffir, Simson.
[5]A Kaffir, Simson.
[6]Kastrol, from the Frenchcasserole= pot or deep pan.
[6]Kastrol, from the Frenchcasserole= pot or deep pan.
It was a finer day; it had left off raining. We were now in the neighbourhood of Schweizer-Renecke.
Then came General De la Rey to my waggons with the news that all the Generals were to go the following week to Klerksdorp. I had a great many people with me just then—General De Wet and many others.
On Monday, after we had spent a peaceful Sunday all together, the Generals started for Klerksdorp. I went to a place not very far from Schweizer-Renecke, for the troops werestationed in great force at Rooiwal, and were also scattered about at many other places.
Here were a great many “treks” of women and children, who were also very much afraid of the troops. Our commandoes were not very far away, so that I could easily hear if the “khakis” were coming. I thought that if only they would let me stay quietly till the Generals had left them I should be happy. But we kept on hearing of more and more troops advancing. I said, “How can that be? I thought that while the Generals were with them there would be peace for the time.” But no; it grew worse. I had a great many people and cattle with me, so that we kept ourselves well informed as to what the “khakis” were doing.
We hardly knew now where next to go: the blockhouses were hemming us in on everyside—we had to be on the watch the whole time. Suddenly we saw some horsemen come dashing on, and they called out to us, “Here are the ‘khakis.’”
It was a dreadful commotion. Everyone was saddling and harnessing. My oxen were not there, and I had no man with me to help. There were many people, but they had to see to their own safety. “Ah!” I thought, “if only my oxen would come!”
I did not want to be taken prisoner now after having escaped so many times, especially when we were, perhaps, nearly at the end of the terrible war. If only I could get off this time!
As people passed me they cried out, “Take your spider, and leave your waggons and everything behind you.” I replied, “You go on.” And the children began to cry, andto say, “What is going to become of us? Everyone is hurrying on!”
“Let them go on,” I said. “All their women and children are prisoners; why should they trouble about us?” The people who had waggons abandoned them and hastened on. As my waggon stood by the way-side they kept on telling me that I must come too—that the troops were close at hand. At last there were my oxen coming over the rise. The children helped to catch all the oxen that we could get inspanned.
Then I saw a troop of horsemen riding up over the rise. I asked the people passing me who they were—if they were “khakis” or Boers?
“No,” they said; “they are Boers.”
“Good!” I cried, but I hurried my people all the same. As soon as we were ready thewhips touched the oxen, and off we went at a good trot.
After we had driven on some little distance the yoke broke.
Then for the first time a good Samaritan passed us. Ada said to him, “Do help us so that we can get the ox yoked, and tell us where the English are.”
The young man got off his horse and helped us, and he said that the “khakis” were not so very near. We went on quickly, then presently we heard that there had been a terrible fight. Many of our men had been killed or wounded. Oh! what dreadful news for us! I went on. Towards evening we halted for a while. After having eaten we started off again, for we thought that the troops would be able to get through to Schweizer-Renecke, and that we should be straight in their path.Late at night we stopped to rest. Early next morning we went on again; then, as we heard that they were not coming any nearer, we halted in a place not very far from Schweizer-Renecke. As it was near the end of the week, we wanted to stay there over Sunday, and this we did. That Sunday I had a great many visitors.
I was astonished to see how many women and children were still out, and how well they looked, although they were wanderers. We talked about the peace that we were hoping for, though not for a peace that should impair our independence. It was very pleasant that evening to hear the sweet singing of the people as they sat near their waggons. The following morning we went to Piet De la Rey’s place, and as he was also with us we had made up our minds to stay there. Butit did not come off, for we found we could get no water there. We went on a little farther, closer to Schweizer-Renecke.
My tent had just been pitched when Johannes De la Rey, the son of Piet De la Rey, suddenly appeared. He and his brother had both been wounded in the last battle.
I had a bed made up in the tent and put him on it, for he was very much fatigued from wandering about since he had been wounded.
He was delighted to be able to rest. That afternoon he was taken to the hospital in Schweizer-Renecke, his father going with him. There were many more wounded. I went to visit them, and found them lying in the devastated houses. We thought, “We must make the best of it and take as good care of them as possible.”
Going to the landdrost, I told him that as there were troops in Bloemhof I thought it would not be advisable to stay any longer in Schweizer-Renecke. “Oh, no,” he said; “it is quite safe here. If the ‘khakis’ do come I shall know it in good time, and you need not be at all anxious.”
I said, “Very well, if it is really so then I shall stay on here;” but I was not at all easy in my mind. I went to my waggon, which was about half an hour’s distance from the village, and told the man who was with me that if I were to follow my own instinct I should get ready at once and leave the place.
He said that there was no need to go. I let myself be talked over, and remained for the night, as they all thought that things were so quiet. That night I slept well, and was still sleeping early in the morning whenup came my boy with these words: “Here are the ‘khakis’!”
This time they were right in the village, where all was in disorder. I felt all the worse because I had remained there against my own instinct.
My people hastened to yoke the oxen. Everything was lying on the ground, but they packed it all into the waggons very quickly. We had to see what was to be done. I asked, “Is the hen-coop open?” There were still a few chickens out then. I said still, “Get the chickens into it;” but the fighting was coming so near that we had to hurry on.
Then there was such a crowd of men and beasts that it grew very difficult to make one’s way through and get away. Commandant Erasmus came up and said, “Don’tyou run away; it is only wedding-guests who are firing like that; those are no ‘khakis.’” I drew up and said, “Go and get my chickens.” The boy went back and then came the news that of course they were “khakis.”
Then our flight was doubly hasty. The fighting now was much nearer us. I thought, “I shall fly to the last.” Then I had more misfortunes. There were the chickens out of the coop again. I said, “Let us wait for one moment and get the fowls in first, and let the boy come up with the cows; for if I can get no milk I shall be very unhappy.”
The animals were all driven forward; the oxen were urged on and we got on at a brisk pace.
The ground was vibrating from the firingof the “khakis.” The way was full of sand and rocks. It was very rough travelling. I kept wondering every moment where the boy could be with the cows; but it was now a time when each one had to consider his own safety, without troubling to look after me. I was waiting for the moment to come when I should be taken prisoner. Fortunately, young Jacobus De la Rey, son of Pieter, caught sight of my waggon and came up. He took the whip and began driving the oxen onwards while he rode on his horse alongside. He came out on the veldt with my waggon, and, as he knew the neighbourhood very well, he said, “Aunt, I shall do what I can to get you out safely.”
“Very well,” I said, “but you must not go and get yourself taken for my sake. If the English come up with us, then fly away,I shall not come to any harm. If they must catch me—well, then, let them do so.”
The mountains were echoing back the sound of their firing. I said, “There is one comfort, I cannot see any cannon; if they were to begin to fire them at me I should have to give in then.”
We went on as hard as we could. Young Kobus De la Rey said, “They are coming over the Rand.”
“Then we are in their hands,” I answered.
Then my boy came up with us and told me that the “khakis” had taken my cows. They had so fired upon him that he had taken to his heels and left the cows behind. That was bad news; I did not want to listen to it, although we too were in great danger, and at any moment they might come and take me prisoner also.
“Our people”.
“Our people”.
“Our people”.
I told them that they could not go on any longer driving the oxen like that. We should have to give in. But still the brave Jacobus kept on, and said, “No, aunt, your oxen are getting on very well. Don’t you worry about them.”
I could not understand myself how it was that my waggons were not taken. There was not one commando there to keep the “khakis” back.
I told myself that when the Lord is working His will, then the greatest wonders can happen.
We came up to some steep ground when one of the yokes broke.
“Now they will be able to see us well,” I said; for we had to stand still, which was very dangerous. But I kept calm and told myself, “My Redeemer is here, and whereverI may go with Jesus it will always be well.” And I clung fast to the hope that we should come away safely.
When we had at last got away from these dangerous heights, it seemed at once as if the fighting were quieting down. However, we could not tell whether they might not fall upon us from in front, as in that direction lay a woody and uneven country.
Very soon we heard that they had not come any nearer. But still we went on, to get as far away as possible. Then we heard that nearly all the people who had been that night in Schweizer-Renecke had been taken prisoners, and that the very same landdrost who had told me towards sunset that he would be sure to know when the “khakis” were coming had had no time that very night to put on his clothes and escape beforethey appeared. I thought how sorry I was that I had not followed my own wish; had I done so, we should not have found ourselves in such danger. However, it looked again as if we were going to escape, now that the fighting was slackening.
After the Almighty I owed my freedom to brave little Jacobus De la Rey and Louis De la Rey, who also did his best to get us away safely. When the troops were so near that they could have shot at my waggons, so that I wanted to stop, they paid no heed, but continued to drive the oxen on at full speed.
I had so many children with me and dreaded so much to see them shot dead before my eyes that at one moment I thought it would be better to give in.
Fortunately, it was not necessary; the danger was now over. It was very latebefore we could make a halt. I had nothing ready in the waggons to give the children to eat; but none of them gave me any trouble, not even my little Janne, who was only six years old. It was so clever of him to understand that when there was nothing to give him he would have to wait.
After a short rest we had to go on again. At three o’clock in the afternoon we stopped. We had no wood, and my boy, who was thoroughly dead beat, did not know how he was going to make a fire. However, by the time the evening had come our food was ready.
Now I had no more cows, so that we had to do without the precious milk. If my little Janne could get nothing else, he used always to be contented with milk.
That evening we went farther. As wewere going to unyoke the oxen and rest for the night a number of people came past, saying that there were troops coming on out of Vryburg. “Ah!” I said, “my oxen are so tired, how can I get on any farther to-night?” However, after resting a little, I went on again.
At sunrise we halted near a farm, where there were trees with undergrowth, so that we could get firewood.
Coffee was just ready when, before I could see to the rest of the breakfast, there came the news that the troops were only a couple of hours’ riding from us. We should have to go on again. We moved very slowly, the oxen being so tired. Fortunately, we found out it was not true about the troops coming from Vryburg.
Sometimes all my Kaffirs would be pulling at the sailcloth to hold it down and fasten itsecurely, so that I would think that the awning was surely going to be blown away from the waggon. It was dreadful to go through those storms in the waggon. However, man’s nature is such that when it is once again a beautiful calm evening he thinks no more of the storms and the lightnings that are over.
It was again a calm and pleasant day; the “storm” of the “khakis” was also over—they had gone back to Klerksdorp and we were able to take a little rest. I went to Delport’s place on the Harts River. I had lost all my cattle during the flight from Schweizer-Renecke. Here I found about fifty-two head belonging to me, which had been driven on with all the other cattle during the flight. But I did not get my cows back; those had been looted by the English. Iwaited anxiously to hear what our people were doing in Pretoria. A few days later they arrived. I said how disheartening it was to have been so worried by the “khakis.” They had been doing all they possibly could to harm us during the time that the Generals were away. I was very glad when they returned; then I could get news of my children in Pretoria, from whom I had not heard for so long. A few days later General De la Rey began his meetings. The brave burghers were having a bitterly hard life of it at that time and their families were in great want.
Nevertheless, they would not abandon their rights. They were determined to go on fighting for their freedom and their rights.
These brave men were depending, not on their strength, but on their rights.
It was a very grave question to consider.
They had struggled for so long; they had given up wives and children, and all that a man holds most precious; there might be thousands of the enemy rising up against their small band, and even shutting them in on every side; nevertheless, they had long since grown to be convinced that it was not they who were fighting, but a Power superior to the might of man. But many had been killed or taken, so that they were greatly weakened, especially of late.
And worst of all were the defections and treachery.
When a man behaves treacherously it is a terrible thing.
For only think to what all that has brought them. Some became traitors; too spiritless to help their own people, they werecourageous enough to take up arms to help the English; on all those rests the guilt of their brothers’ blood. The result was to render those who held on still more steadfast and to teach them still greater abhorrence of treachery and of bad faith.
As they had struggled and suffered for so long, and it had not pleased God to deliver them into the hand of their enemy, they did not wish to be themselves the ones to do it. And I was entirely at one with them, for their story and mine were one and the same. It still remains inexplicable to me how for seventeen months I had been able to fly with my children, many a day not knowing what to do.
It is often hard and difficult to “trek” round with so many children and not to be able to get clothes and other necessariesfor them. And yet I was able to say every day, “The Lord has helped me and strengthened me, like He helped the widow of Zarephath, so that her cruse never failed her, but always remained full.” Often as I lay in bed at night, feeling so depressed by the thought of what would come of it all, did I repeat Hymn 22, “Rest, my soul, thy God is King,” and the last verse, “Your God is King, be contented with your lot.”
And every day the Lord strengthened me in this manner, so that I had no right to be faithless. And it was the same with our people.
They went on with their meetings, and every time they decided to persevere and not give up. Everywhere it was the same.
I thought, “Who is it that makes theburghers so strong? It is beyond man’s comprehension.”
Yet if one remembers the place of Golgotha, then one can better understand.
That the Saviour must suffer so much, and yet be innocent, was a difficult thing for His disciples to understand at the time. It was known throughout the world that the Saviour must die, and undergo the most cruel treatment, but men could not tell why it should be.
And we do not know why this people should suffer so bitterly; some day we shall learn the reason.
When the meetings were over in the Lichtenburg district they went to the Zwartruggens and Marico. I was then in the Lichtenburg district.
As soon as the General had left Lichtenburg the “khakis” began to “trek” on.
They were already advancing rapidly towards Vryburg. I heard that they were coming on in such large numbers that I thought, “Why is it that the ‘khakis’ can never let me have a little peace? I shall go somewhere where I can stay in some little comfort, and I will not fly any more, for they are busy making peace. Let the ‘khakis’ come if they like.” People were all flying away with their cattle as hard as they could. They advised me to let my cattle also go with the rest. I said, “I do not know what will be best. I have not come across the troops for a long time, and I do not know what they would do now if I were to meet them.”
I let myself be talked over, and sent allmy cattle away. I had two waggons; I let one go with the cattle. I remained with one waggon, a tent, a spider and four cows. All the rest went in the flight.
The “khakis” came on in large numbers. They came swarming over the ground. I said, “Where can all these ‘khakis’ have come from that there should be such crowds of them?” Still I did not go away, but stayed on at the place called Corsica, belonging to Mr Meyer, where his wife was still living and some other women besides.
We kept on hearing of large armies that were advancing. All our men were away.
Suddenly we heard the sound of fighting not very far from us. Then all at once we saw horsemen coming up over the rise. We saw that they were Boers, and we asked where the troops were. “Not far fromhere,” they said. “We have just been fighting with them.”
It was already late and the burghers went away.
In the morning we got up early, knowing that the troops would be getting here very soon. We had not even breakfasted yet when we saw them coming over the rise.
I thought to myself, “What will they do to me now? I have been fleeing before them for eighteen months and they were doing all they could to catch me, but in vain. Perhaps they will revenge themselves on me now. But,” I thought, “the Lord has always watched over me till to-day, and He will continue to do so.”
They stopped a few hundred paces away from us and rode up and down there for a little while. Suddenly they dashed up tomy waggon, came up to where I was sitting behind, and one of them asked me where the Boers were.
I answered, “There are none here.”
“When were they here last?”
“They went away from here yesterday afternoon.”
“Where are the commandoes?” he asked.
“I know nothing about the commandoes.”
Then I told him that as the Kaffirs that were among the troops behaved so badly and cruelly to women and children I did not want to have anything to do with coloured people. I only had to deal with white people, and so they must just keep the coloured ones away from me.
He was polite, and said, “Very well, Mrs De la Rey, you shall not be troubled by the Kaffirs.”
But they kept coming continually to the waggon. I thought, “It is rousing their appetite for burning.” A Kaffir had already told my boy when he was by the fire that this waggon and tent would have to be burnt.
Colonel Williams came to my daughter in front of the tent and asked whose waggon it was. When she had told him came the cruel order, “It does not matter to me whose waggon it is. The woman must get out, were she the Queen herself, and the waggon and tent must be burnt.”
Then I thought to myself that I must now undergo that about which I had heard so much from others. To think that poor women must see their things taken away from them and burnt.
I was very angry, and I thought, “Do whatyou like, I shall say what I think and what is right.”
I told them again then who I was, and said that I was not going to let them burn my waggon.
For eighteen months long, ever since Lord Methuen sent me out of Lichtenburg, I had wandered round with my children. If they wanted to burn my things they would have to get an order from a superior officer. I was not going to let them do it themselves.
The soldiers kept pressing closer. They had quite surrounded me. I thought, “Who knows how cruel they are going to be?”
But here again I remembered that only as far as the Lord would let them could they go and no further, and I did not lose faith.
Then suddenly the one with whom I had been talking drew his pocket-book out andwrote an order that the waggon, the tent and the cows which I had kept should not be touched and that no harm should be done on the place. And this was just when, a little way off, in a dwelling-house, they had completely taken and destroyed everything. They had taken away from there all the blankets and more or less everything that the women had had by them. They used to let this be done by the Kaffirs, who took great pride in being able to act in such a manner to white women-folks.
And now the officer’s bad temper was quite cured. No one might come near my waggon and tent now. The soldiers were ordered back; a guard was stationed near us so that we might not be annoyed by the passers-by.
I was delivered from them the next day.
I was longing now to hear what had become of the people who had taken the cattle with them.
The report came that evening that they had all been taken.
Then we heard the sound of riding, and we wondered if that could be “khakis” again. As we were just a handful of women and children we would far rather it were not more “khakis.” They came riding up. It was Dr van Rennenkampf and Tom Sisk. How happy we were to see some of our own people again! I heard from them then that all those with whom I had let my cattle go had been taken prisoners.
There I was now, quite helpless. The people on the farm were very good, but they, too, were equally helpless. We had no living animals that we could use for “trekking.”
The doctor had his cart and mules, and therefore I told him he must just stay here with us. I felt as if I could die of sorrow; I had no wish now to stay any longer, but all my cattle were taken and I could not get away.
There was nothing here to slaughter; however, I thought to myself that things had always come right somehow or other up to now, and that it would be the same this time also.
And there came a brave burgher with sheep for the women and children. Thus did the Lord always provide that we never should be without something to feed us.
And the doctor was there to ride for “mealies,” which was a great help to us in those days.
The week was not yet over when we heardthat the “khakis” were coming back from Vryburg.
I said, “What am I going to do with the ‘khakis’ now? I thought they were not coming back again.” And just a week after they had left, back they were again. They came towards us in their thousands. However, the doctor was with us now. Colonel Williams came up to me and said that General Hamilton was coming to see me. He had news of General De la Rey.
“Very well,” I said, “let him come.”
Then came Hamilton with a telegram from General De la Rey asking him if he had met me, and what had happened to me.
He said that he had answered that they had met me and had done nothing to me, and that all was well with me. We did not know anything yet of what they had beendoing at Pretoria. We were anxious to have news of the peace negotiations, but I could not hear anything more. The English behaved reasonably this time and did us no harm. They wanted to stay on in the place, but there was not enough water for such a large army, therefore they went away again.
I was so unhappy that I had lost all my oxen; and now the water, that had always been troubled, was so dirty, owing to all the troops that had been staying there, that I felt still less inclination to stop on.
Fortunately Mr D. van der Merwe succeeded in escaping with the Government cattle. He gave me two beasts to be slaughtered and two milch cows.
It was sad to hear the tales of how the “khakis” were now behaving to the people.A woman came to me weeping and grieving bitterly.
“What is the matter with you?” I said.
“Oh, they have taken away my big Bible, in which all my children’s names were entered. They have taken everything away—nothing is left to me; but if only I could get my Bible back!”
I said, “Why did you not hold it in your arms when the ‘khakis’ were taking everything away?”
“Oh,” she said, “I and my children were standing there watching everything in bitter anguish. We were in a ruined house. When they drove the door in I could not bear to be with them any longer, and I went out of the house with the children; and so they took it away without my seeing.”
I said, “I think I should have been able toget it back for you; but now they have, unfortunately, all gone away, and I am afraid I cannot help you.”
These were the hardest days of all for me. My flour had come to an end, and although the Boers had a small flour mill with them when they were fleeing, I was not able to get at it, so that I had to use my coffee mill for grinding. Having so many children with me made it very hard sometimes; but the children had also been through so much by this time that every difficulty gradually righted itself.
As they were still very young, and had always been used to go regularly to school, it was often very wearying for them. It is not very comfortable to be constantly wandering over the veldt, especially in this fashion.
As we were here to-day and in anotherplace to-morrow, it often happened that we could not get a maid to do the washing. Then the children would have to do it themselves. They would take the clothes and put them in the tub, and then Janne and Hester would have to tread on them. But Janne was such a little monkey, he was always playing tricks on Hester, and then she would have to undo all his mischief, and by herself tread the clothes up and down till they were clean enough for the two little girls to finish washing them. Sometimes there was very little soap. They would make starch out of green “mealies” (Indian corn).
There were many burghers who had been schoolmasters before the war. When any of them were near my waggons they would keep school for the children. After the waggons had been outspanned they would all situnder a shady tree with the master and have lessons. People were often surprised to see how well we were getting on for fugitives. I said, “It does not all go as smoothly as you think;” but I often wondered myself when I thought of how we got through day after day.
We kept the calves close to the waggons, and while we were “trekking” they would be marched alongside of the oxen. The cows were sent on ahead, so that they could be milked in the evening; and as long as the children could have milk they were always content. Sometimes we would put the milk into a stone bottle, and thus be able to get butter[7]and sour milk as well. Our supply of coffee, though running short, was not yetquite finished. As we had so little left, I used to cut up petatas[8]into small dice and dry and burn them. These I would mix with the coffee beans—one-fourth of coffee to three-fourths of petatas—and grind it all up together. This mixture made quite good coffee.