But even for this want of enduring enthusiasm a remedy was found, viz., a committee was appointed who were supposed to represent the Uitlander population, who made up in themselves for all want of public enthusiasm. Gold could do a great deal; besides, the head of the organisation knew the art ofbuyingenthusiasm.
For a time the National Union took a spurt, kept alive by inflaming speeches and circulars; but as soon as a little boom in shares took place, the public would have nothing to do with politics, and again and again the committee found the Union to consist ofthemselves.This would never do; the objects of the Union would never be attained if something was not done soon.
The plans of the parent organisation were nearing completion. Soon it was rumoured that the president of the Union and other members of the secret organisation were preparing to issue a manifesto, by which means they hoped to once more wind up public opinion, and to inflame the hotter Boer haters to the fullest extent. When once the public were excited enough, a meeting would be held, where revolutionary proposals would be made by certain agents, which, it was hoped, would be taken up and supported by the public. This was December 1895.
It is Christmas 1895.
Peace on earth, good-will to all men is supposed to prevail at this season; not so with the enemies of the country.
The President was away on one of his yearly visits to outlying districts. He would return on Boxing Day, expecting everybody to be indulging in the usual festivities of the season.
Alas! it is not so in a certain building in Johannesburg. A group of men are exulting over a document. It is a proof of the famous National Union Manifesto, issued by the chairman of the Union; issued in the name of the Uitlander population, without their consent. On their own responsibility, the chairman of the Union and a few of his fellow-conspirators issued a manifesto with the full and deliberate intention of causing a civil war in South Africa, a war of races—a war, the result of which, and the ending of which, no man could surmise.
Steve went to the station on Boxing Day to see the President arrive by train from his tour. As he was standing talking to an acquaintance about the air of mystery and expectancy on the faces of most people in the crowd, he heard a newsboy crying,—
‘The Star! The Star! National Union Manifesto!’
‘Hillo! I might as well buy a copy and see what they have to say,’ he remarked, calling the boy and buying a paper. He read it with the closest attention.
The manifesto was composed of several newspaper columns of close printing.
What struck Steve was that, of all the grievances detailed in the manifesto, only one was really worth complaining about, viz., the want of franchise. All the rest were open to difference of opinion, or did not exist at all. After a great deal had been said on one subject or another, a list of ten wants was given:—
Firstly.—‘The establishment ofthisRepublic as a true Republic,’ I wonder if the compiler of the manifesto is an Irishman. He wants a republic to be made a republic; he wants a cow to be turned into a cow; a horse into a horse; a mule into a mule. Why he ought to know that if heisa mule, a mule he is.
Secondly.—‘A Grondwet or constitution is wanted, which shall be framed by competent persons.’ Who? The committee of the National Union, I suppose! No more need be said.
Thirdly.—‘An equitable franchise law, and fair representation.’ This is the only real grievance that the Union could complain of. But then a poor man sometimes complains because another man is rich and possessed of more than his share of this world’s goods. The rich man had patiently worked for and acquired his wealth, the poor man will not work and will not wait for his time to come to make his ‘pile.’ Let the Uitlander bide his time patiently and earn the right to obtain the franchise, and obtain it he will in the end. We all wish for the franchise and hope to get it by proving to the Governmentthat we wish it well and not harm. But who is going to impoverish himself to enrich his neighbour? Who, when attacked by an enemy, is going to hand over his own revolver to be shot with? That is what the National Union has proved itself to be up to now—enemiespure and simple of the Government. Let them show more good-will, more conciliation, more honest friendship, and they may expect more consideration from the Government.
Fourthly.—‘Equality of the Dutch and English language is demanded.’ This is a Dutch republic, founded by the Dutch, civilised and reclaimed by the Dutch. Dutch is the official language of the country. The English language is given all consideration in courts of law and public offices. English is spoken freely everywhere, in courts of law or other offices of administration. The law is winked at as regards enforcing the use of Dutch. More cannot be claimed at present. If the English language wins its way into further favour no one is going to grumble.
Fifthly.—‘Responsibility to the legislature of the heads of the great departments.’ That is going to come without the aid of the National Union!
Sixthly.—‘Removal of religious disabilities.’ The law of the country allows every man to worship and think as he pleases. Only, the holders of office and public officials must be Protestants.The Transvaal Burghers are mostly descended from Huguenots!
Seventhly.—‘Independence of the courts of justice, with adequate and secured remuneration of the judges.’ Even so, we all want that, and are thankful to say ‘we have it.’
Eighthly.—‘Liberal and comprehensive education.’ The State has been striving and aiming towards this laudable object for years, and is striving for it still. Improvements in the department of education are made yearly, and, let us hope, will be continued to be made.
Ninthly.—‘Improved civil service and provisions for apension fund’ is asked. I wonder if the members of the National Union committee had an eye for their own future prospects when they asked for this. Of course they were going to be provided for in the way of offices in the improved government and civil service, and they naturally wished to make provision for their pensions.
Tenthly.—‘Free trade in South African products.’ Free trade is an old question, and need not be discussed here. If it suits one party it does not suit another, and the products of the State must be protected.
Something like the above were the mental comments of Steve as he read the ‘Ten Wants’ of the Union. He saw no harm in the ventilating of their wants by the Union, if it is done peacefully and constitutionally, but the implied threat which appears in the question ‘How shall we get it?’—that is where he sees the spirit of the manifesto. There is no reason why they should not get all, or nearly all, they ask, if they ask for it in the right way. It all depends upon what they decide to do to get it whether they get it or no; underthreatsthey willnotget it.
The meeting to be held on the 6th January 1896 had to decide.
At last the train with the President on board steams into the station. A line is formed from the saloon carriage to the President’s private carriage, and the Transvaal ‘Grand Old Man’ steps forth, hat in hand, bowing right and left. As Steve gazes upon that firm, calm and strong countenance, all doubt as to the future prospects of his race disappear. Withsucha man as their leader, victory must attend them. He gazes with exultation upon Paul Kruger; he had often seen the President before, but he looked upon him with renewed interest after reading that bouncing manifesto; and as he looked, he fancied he saw before him a stormy sea, the billows roar, the winds blow, and amidst all a strong, firm, upright rock receiving the dashing waves and howling winds against its sides, unmoved. Such wasthe impression Paul Kruger gave Steve that afternoon. Thesimilewas not out of place; the storm was gathering.Will Paul Kruger remain firm?
From the time of publication of the National Union Manifesto, a cloud seemed to hang over the country. On every street corner and under every verandah where two or three were gathered together, politics were being spoken of. What is going to happen? Was Johannesburg really going to take the bit in its own teeth and go its own way, or was it all only big talk and a case of the Union playing the bogey man to frighten the Government into submission and into giving way to their demands. Therewerea few fiery-minded youths in Pretoria who talked big of the mighty things the Uitlanders were going to do. They were armed; they had twenty Maxims, cannons and small arms in plenty; they were going to remove the Boer Government and raise a government of their own, etc., etc.
But the majority of the Uitlanders living in Pretoria expressed their intention to stand by the present Government. They were not going to have either the Imperial Government again, or a government of capitalists. The former had made too many mistakes in South Africa already to be desired; besides, are we not men, cannot we work out our own salvation? As to the latter, enough of that has been seen in Europe, America and Kimberley. No, we are satisfied with the present Government, and with the improvements we know that we shall get soon. The Government received daily assurances from leading Pretoria men of staunch support in case of need. Evenin Johannesburg, the Government was not in want of many thousands of Uitlander friends.
One hardy old Scotchman, interviewed by a countryman lately arrived, in answer to the question as to what his intentions were in case of disturbances, replied by pointing to a gun standing in a corner and saying,—
‘You see that gun? Well that gun and myself are at the service of Oom Paul whenever he wants us. I am not going to see such an unrighteous thing as deposing a just and kind Government by a lot of capitalists and other knaves.’
Steve, amongst many others, never for a moment supposed that any disturbance or breach of the peace would take place before the 6th January, which was the date appointed by the National Union for their great meeting, when they would decide upon future action. How was he or the general public (mostly concerned) to know of the secret preparations (whispered of, but not believed) made by the conspirators to let the dogs of war—and that civil war—loose on or before the date appointed? How was he or they to know that preparations were far advanced for the invasion of the Transvaal by Chartered troops? The different Governments concerned did not know of it; how could private individuals know?
So Steve and his friends made preparations for a fishing party during the New Year holidays on the Vaal River.
Accordingly, Saturday night saw Steve and his friends embarked on the Cape trainen routefor the Vaal River. They were going by rail as far as Vereeniging, from which place they had made arrangements to leave by a mule waggon, which they had chartered for the week. Arrived at the border town, they loaded their tent and provisions on the mule waggon, expecting to have a quiet but enjoyable picnic on the banks of the Vaal. The site for their camp was chosen about eighteen miles west from Vereeniging, as they wished to be away from the bustle of town life for the few days of rest. Sunday afternoon saw the party comfortably settled on a pretty spot on the river’sbank. A few beautiful trees supplied them with the necessary shade from the heat of the sun.
Sunday afternoon and evening were spent in quiet rest, after the necessary operations of fixing up camp were over.
Monday morning early, fishing was begun in earnest. A fairly successful day was spent on the river bank. Towards sundown the party returned to camp.
After coffee had been made and partaken of, Steve proposed that they should go to the little country store, lying about half-a-mile away.
‘It will be a nice little walk before supper,’ he remarked, ‘and, besides, we might hear some news from the shopkeeper, as he is the post-agent here.’ His proposal was accepted, and the party strolled forth. Arrived at the store, they found the proprietor to be one Nande. This Nande was an Afrikander born, but an English educated young man; handsome, stout, and well spoken, but slightly deaf. As to his character, that will be sufficiently gathered from his conversation and acts.
After a few trifling purchases had been made in the store, as a sort of introduction, Steve inquired if he had heard any news from Pretoria or Johannesburg to-day.
‘Oh, yes, I have heard news, and if it is true, I shall be jolly glad; it will show these miserable Boers that the British people are not to be trifled with. I hear that Jameson has entered the Transvaal with eight hundred troopers, and is marching on to Johannesburg at full speed; it is only a rumour as yet, I heard it at the station this afternoon.’
At the first few words Steve trembled with agitation and apprehension for the Transvaal, for, if this was true, it really meant war with Great Britain, for Jameson and his men were really British troops. But a moment’s reflection showed him how improbable such a thing must be. He could not believe England capable of such perfidy. The Transvaal was at peace with England, and had done absolutely nothing to provoke an invasion, or even a talkof an invasion from England. Besides, the last decade of the nineteenth century was not a time when one civilised country invades another, unprovoked and without rhyme or reason. No, the wish was only father to the thought, it was not to be believed for a moment. But what struck Steve with disgust was that this young man, who looked like an Afrikander, appeared to wish for such an invasion, and seemed to glory in the very idea of it.
‘May I ask what your name is, sir?’ he said, turning to the storekeeper.
‘My name is Nande.’
‘But that is a pure Afrikander name.’
‘So it is. I was born in the Cape Colony, and have been in the Transvaal now for five years.’
‘But why do you speak as if you wished for the downfall of our Afrikander Republic?’
‘Because I do not think it right that we should be governed by these Boers any longer. Why, they refused to give me a situation just because I could not write Hollander-Dutch; they rather gave it to a Hollander than to an Afrikander.’
‘I think that shows their good sense,’ replied Steve; ‘if you had learned your mother tongue as well as you did English, they would not have refused you.’
‘Well, I only hope that Jameson and the Uitlanders will succeed in chucking the whole lot out, then a man who has received an English education will be able to get a Government situation too. I hope to see the British flag flying once more over the Transvaal in a week or so.’
‘Hurrah for Jameson and the British flag!’ cried Steve’s cousin.
This young man had been in the habit of running the English down ever since he had come to the Transvaal, because he thought it good policy, but now that he believed the English were going to be victorious, he thought it was high time to put on his Anglo-Saxon coat and go with the winning party. It is all very wellto be an Afrikander while Afrikanderism is popular, and while Afrikanders hold the handle of the knife. But now it seems England is going to wrest the handle out of the hands of the Boers, so ‘British I will be now,’ was his philosophy—ugh!
Keith and Harrison did not say a word; they seemed to be stricken dumb at what they heard.
‘Oh, so you are taking a fit of Anglo-mania, too, now—you—cur, you—dog, you coward.’
‘And I am a Britisher too, and I also say Hurrah for Jameson,’ cried Nande.
Steve stood with clenched hands, pale as death.
‘And I say that the man who turns his coat and stands away from his countrymen in their time of need is worse than adog, is worse than a Kaffir, for even a Kaffir will stand by his people in time of need. You are both dogs—curs, and worse than curs, you mongrel Afrikanders.’
‘Look here, young man, you must be careful what you say; you must remember we are four against you alone; we will soon take your gas out of you,’ said Nande.
‘Come on then all of you. One true Afrikander can alwaysdownhalf-a-dozen cowardly curs like you. I do not believe a hundred like you would have the pluck to tackle one single Boer. Come on, I am ready for you.’
He stood with his back against the wall, with clenched fists, fierce set face, and gleaming eyes.
Nande snatched an axe handle standing near, and crying to the other three to ‘come on and let us silence this miserable Boer,’ he walked in a threatening way to within three paces of Steve. Steve stood calmly but determinedly awaiting the attack. When Nande stopped three paces in front of him, Steve looked him full in the eyes. Nande could not stand that look; he trembled with fear, and looking away, he turned to the others and said,—
‘Are you fellows not going to help me to give this Boer a good thrashing?’
Keith and Harrison looked contemptuously at him, the former remarking that,—
‘If any help were required, we would certainly give it to Steve.Heis aman. You are a cowardly renegade. I would be ashamed of you, if you really were an Englishman.’
‘Thank God there are very few Afrikanders such as these two,’ said Steve. ‘It would be a bad lookout for us if there were many such.’
‘You are right, Steve,’ said Harrison. ‘They are about the only two I have ever met. I wish I had the privilege to be a born Afrikander. I would not thus turn renegade, but would be only too happy to fight for my country; and, by God, if this is true about Jameson, Iwillfight for them. If Englishmen can act as treacherously as this, then I shall disown my own country and become a true citizen of this, my adopted country; that, at least, would not be turning renegade, for I should be fighting for the country I live in.’
‘And so say I, too,’ said Keith.
Nande, seeing how the land lay, and the mistake he had made when he expected to be supported by the young Englishmen, backed out, and retreated behind his counter.
The party now left, and returned to their camp with Steve’s cousin slinking on behind them. He kept out of Steve’s way for the rest of the evening, as he saw that he was in the minority now, and that was not arôlehe delighted in playing.
The next day fishing was resumed. Steve did not attach much credence to Nande’s story of Jameson’sinvasion, so he was not much disturbed about it. He thought he had plenty of time to enjoy his little holiday and to be back home by the 6th January, when he would be able to watch events and be at hand in case his services were needed to defend his country.
What a surprise awaited him!
As the party returned about midday to camp for lunch, they found a young man there who had just drawn rein for a moment to let his sweating horse breathe, and get a drink of water for himself.
‘Hillo! Whither away in such a hurry?’ hailed Steve in a hospitable way. ‘Stay and have lunch with us.’
‘I dare not. I am in a great hurry. Have you heard the news?’
‘No; what is it?’
‘Jameson has invaded Transvaal territory, and is marching on to Johannesburg.’
‘My God! is it true after all?’
‘Only too true. I am postmaster and telegraphist at H——, and I have just received a wire from headquarters to let the field cornet know at once, with orders for him tocommandeerevery available Burgher without a moment’s delay. They are to guard the borders against any further invasion from any other direction. The Burghers from Potchefstroom, Rustenburg and Krugersdorp are ordered to intercept Jameson and to capture him before he enters Johannesburg.’
‘May I know your name, sir?’ asked Steve.
‘Certainly; my name is A——n.’
‘But that is a British name, is it not?’
‘It is; but I am colonial born, and I consider myself an Afrikander, and I am going to stand by the Afrikanders to the bitter end. My God! do you think I will stand by and see our Republic invaded in such a treacherous manner, and not do all in my power to resist it? I am not obliged to bear dispatches in this way, but for such a cause I would do a great deal more.’
‘I am proud to shake hands with you, sir,’ said Steve,suiting the action to the word. ‘With such men as you to stand by us, our future is assured.’
‘I am glad to see you’re one of us, sir, and hope to meet you again in more peaceful times; in the meanwhile, now my horse has had a breathing spell, I must hurry on.’
‘One moment, sir,’ said Steve. ‘I want to leave at once for the scene of action. Which is the best way, do you think, to reach it?’
‘I suppose, to take train as far as you can, and where you find yourself stopped, to get a horse (the best way you can), and go on horseback until you reach the place where fighting is going on.’
‘Thank you, sir. Good-bye, and God speed the Republican cause.’
‘Amen, good-bye, and good luck.’
Steve was intensely excited, his breath came in short, quick gasps. He turned to Keith and Harrison, saying,—
‘Look here, you chaps, I do not know what you intend doing, but I can’t stay here another hour, I must get away without a moment’s unnecessary delay.’
‘But, Steve, what could you do if you did go? One man more or less will make no difference. Stay and let us finish our fishing. Time enough to go fighting when we have to go back and our holiday is over.’
Steve shook his head, saying,—
‘No, old man, if everybody were to say that, and want to enjoy their New Year festivities before responding to their country’s call, then Jameson would have an easy march to Johannesburg. No, I must go. The only question is, How? Will you fellows go too, or will you stay and let me have the mule waggon to the station, then I can send it back to you, and you can stay here and have the full benefit of your holiday.’
‘No, Steve, if go you must, I go too,’ said Keith.
‘And I will go too. If there is going to be excitement on, we might as well be at hand and see what is going on?’ said Harrison. ‘As to fighting, I do not yet knowwhat I shall do personally, but one thing I am sure of, I am not going to fight against the Boers. If they have to be suppressed, I will take no hand in it, while I may yet decide to fight with them; for if they are really invaded in this back-handed, treacherous way, the sympathy of all right-minded people ought to go with them.’
‘Well, if we are to go, the sooner the better,’ said Keith, responding kindly to Steve’s wishes.
The driver was called, and told to get the mules and inspan at once, while the rest of the party busied themselves in getting everything packed and ready for their departure.
Steve’s cousin was not consulted as to his willingness to leave or not; he was in the minority and had to accept the decision arrived at; he was sulking on one side, refusing to render assistance in the preparations for leaving. He was undecided what to do; he was not quite sure yet whether the Boers were going to lose or not, so he thought he would keep quiet a little longer, and see in which way matters tended. No notice was taken of him by the others.
In a short time the driver’s assistant arrived with a message to the effect that the mules were lost and must have strayed away. The driver had gone farther to search for them. Steve was in despair.
‘My God!’ he cried, ‘what have I done that this should come to me? Would that I had never left Pretoria, then I might at least have been able to do something.’
‘Keith, come with me like a good fellow and help me to bribe Nande into selling or hiring me a horse. Imustget away.’
‘I will go with pleasure, Steve; but I am afraid that after last night’s scene, Nande will by no means be eager to render you a favour.’
They went, but in vain. Nande was still feeling very sore at the straightforward words of Steve, and refusedabsolutely to let him have a horse on any terms whatever. Steve offered to pay any price, but in vain. He attempted threats, but Nande was strong in the knowledge that in this case, law was on his side, and that Steve could not force him to give up his horse.
‘Well, Keith, old man, I am going to walk. Good-bye, and thank you for your kindness.’
Keith remonstrated in vain, telling him to wait until the mules were found, and that he could never arrive in time to catch the train if he walked, but Steve was mad with excitement. He felt that inaction was impossible; he must do something, and with one handshake he started on his way on foot. He walked fast and long. It soon began to rain, but he walked blindly on, on and on. ‘I must get on. If my people must fight for liberty I must be with them.’ He did not heed the water running into his shoes or streaming down his clothing. The road was very indistinct; the water was running over it, so that he was not sure always whether he was on the road or not. It was getting dark. Surely he ought to have reached the station by this time. He had walked six long hours, and he must have covered more than eighteen miles now. Where can the town be? He could barely walk now, he was so tired and so wet, but on and on he struggled. The strongest human passion possessed him: the passion of outraged patriotism. At last he saw a small building in front of him; it was only a small place, but he hoped to find somebody from whom he might inquire his whereabouts. He did find a man there.
‘Will you please tell me where I am, sir. I am afraid I have lost my way. I want to go to Vereeniging.’
‘Why, sir, you are walking away from Vereeniging. You are about twenty-five miles from the station now. Where are you coming from?’
‘I left about one o’clock from Nande’s Store on the Vaal River. I am afraid I must have taken the wrong road.’
‘Yes, you must have taken the left instead of the right hand road, a few miles after you left Nande.’
‘My God! what shall I do now?’
‘Where do you wish to go to?’
‘I want to reach Johannesburg or Krugersdorp as soon as possible.’
‘Well, you are at least twenty miles nearer your destination now than when you left Nande, so your time is not altogether lost.’
‘Sir, will you not do me a great favour by selling or hiring me a horse, or tell me where I can get one near by; it is most important that I should lose no time.’
‘I am very sorry, but I have no horse; you might get one three miles away, where there is a Boer farm. They have several horses; but come in and have a cup of coffee first. You are wet and cold. I will give you some of my dry clothing to put on in exchange for your wet ones. It would be death for you to keep those wet clothes on.’
Steve accepted with pleasure. He was wet, tired and hungry. He had had nothing to eat since breakfast, as the news received at lunch time had taken away all idea of eating. He entered, had a cup of coffee with a dry biscuit, changed his clothes, and, in spite of his host’s invitation to spend the night there, departed.
‘No thank you, sir. I thank you for your kindness to me, a stranger. If at any time you come to Pretoria, here is my card. If I can return your kindness, please let me know.’
He proceeded in the direction pointed out to him and soon arrived at the Boer farm. It was a well-appointed substantial building, and it was evident that well-to-do people lived there, so no doubt he would be able to get a horse.
When about two hundred yards away from the house, Steve came across an old bushman with a pail of milk in his hands, evidently coming from the cattle kraals.
‘Naand, baas.’ (Good evening, baas).
‘Good evening, my boy. Who lives here?’
‘Baas Meyer lives here, baas.’
‘Is your baas in?’ Steve asked.
‘No, my baas left with his two sons this afternoon, on commando. They say the English are coming to take the country again, and my baas left to fight the English.’
‘Who is at home now?’
‘Only thenooi(mistress) and her daughter.’
‘What is your name?’
‘Jankie, baas.’
‘Well, Jankie, here are two shillings for you.’
Steve thought it best to make friends where he could.
‘Thank you, thank you, baas,’ said the bushman, receiving the coin and slipping it into his mouth.
‘Look here, Jankie, is there a good riding horse in the stable?’
‘Only young Baas Willim’s horse, on which he goes courting.’
‘Is it a good horse, Jankie?’
‘I have never seen a better one, baas; it is a black stallion. He never getsflamed(never gives in).’
‘That is just the horse I want, Jankie. Do you think your mistress will lend him to me to go and fight the English?’
‘I am afraid not, baas. Young Baas Willim never allows anyone besides himself to ride that horse; but come in and ask thenooi.’
Steve went up to the house and knocked. The door was opened by a pretty, fair-haired girl, evidently thedaughter of the house. He was shown into the sitting-room, the good and well-appointed furniture of which again indicated the wealth of the owners.
Steve asked to see Mijf Meyer. She soon appeared, and without much beating about the bush, Steve stated what he required.
‘Madam, I was on a picnic on the Vaal River. There I heard that the English were again invading the country. I want to go and fight against our enemies, but I have no horse to go from here. Will you lend me one?’
‘No, sir; you look too much like an Englishman yourself to go and fight against the English. Why do you shame your face, just like therooi nekke. No, sir, I know your people’s tricks too well to be caught by you. If a real Afrikander wants a horse to fight the English, he can have all we have, but you look like one who is more likely to help our enemies than to fight for us. I don’t know you.’
Steve explained and expostulated, begged and threatened, in vain. The old lady believed him to be a spy and enemy. His looks were against him; and in any case he was a stranger to her; and an Afrikander has never been known to tramp about in city clothes like his looking for a horse; she would neither sell nor lend.
Steve saw that he was distrusted, and that further pleading was in vain. He turned to leave, when the girl came up to him, saying,—
‘Sir, you must excuse my mother, but we cannot risk giving an enemy a horse to fight against our own people. Perhaps you know how the Uitlanders have been threatening us lately; my father and brothers are even now on their way to fight against the English, who want to take our country from us again. But if you want food, or anything else, you are welcome.’
Steve thanked her, and told her he could not blame them for distrusting a stranger. ‘But,’ with tears in his eyes, ‘I do so long to be in the fight. I would dearlylike to strike a blow for our liberty against our enemies, and now I am so tired I can’t walk much farther, and time is passing by. Oh, that I could find a horse.’
He walked out; he was in despair. The tears were running fast down his face, and he was ashamed to let the girl see him weep.
Steve did not walk more than a hundred yards away from the house when he sank down on the ground in a passion of tears and despair.
‘Oh, what have I done that I should be caged like this? My countrymen are perhaps even now struggling for life and liberty, and here I am in the open veld, without a horse or means of reaching the commando in time. Oh, my God, send me aid, help me to get away. Oh, God, I would give all I have for a horse to-night. Jesus, thou hast so often answered my prayers before, answer me now, when I ask for a horse to go and fight against our enemy.’ He shook with a passion of tears and intense earnestness as he prayed in his despair. Steve had great faith in prayer, and when all else failed, he believed that God would not fail him. As he prayed thus, a feeling of comfort and relief came over him; he fancied he heard a voice say, ‘Fear not, my son, thy prayer is heard.’ The next moment he felt a touch on his arm; a pale face looked into his eyes. Steve saw that it was the girl he had just left. She was weeping now, too; a great faith in him was shining in her face.
‘Oh, forgive us for mistrusting you; I see now that you are one of us. I stood looking after you, I saw you were in trouble, and when I saw you drop down here, I came to see what was the matter with you, and I heard all you said in your grief and despair. Come with me, God has heard your prayer.’
Steve was surprised at this turn of affairs. He followed the girl. She led him to the stable and lighted a lantern. In the lantern-light Steve saw a beautiful black stallion standing. He thought to himself that Jankie had not said too much for young Baas Willim’s courting horse.The girl showed him a saddle and bridle hanging on a peg against the wall, and bid him put on the saddle.
‘But what will your mother say?’ he asked.
‘I will answer for everything. It is for our dear country and liberty you want the horse. If mother believed in you as I do now, she would never have refused you. Be quick now.’
Steve looked at her for a moment, but he reflected it was for a great and noble cause, moreover it was urgent, so he hesitated no longer. The horse was soon saddled and led out of the stable. He took the girl by the hand and said,—
‘God bless you for your goodness. I hope I may earn your good opinion in the struggle we are going to have. I will try not to disgrace your brother’s horse. Good-bye, and God bless you,’ and with a hearty handshake he jumped on the horse.
‘Wait a moment,’ the girl called. ‘Which way are you going?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘I would advise you to go in the same direction our Burghers went to-day. Take that road,’ pointing in a northerly direction, ‘keep to the main road, and you are sure to meet with some of the Burghers going to the commando. They all expect the fighting to take place somewhere between Johannesburg and Krugersdorp, so you had better inquire your way to Krugersdorp first.’
‘Thank you. Good-bye.’
‘Good-bye, and good luck.’
Steve let go the rein, and the stallion, nothing loth, shot forward like an arrow. But Steve was a good horseman, he knew he had far to go, and a horse, however good, is yet not a machine, therefore the strength of the horse must be economised. He soon got the stallion to settle down to a good, easy, comfortable pace at the rate of six miles an hour.
As Steve sat on his pleasant, comfortable seat, with his horse going as easy as a spring carriage, he hadmuch time for thought. It was a beautiful but weird moonlight night. Thin, long streaks of mare’s-tail clouds stretched across the sky, and Steve fancied he saw all sorts of fantastical shapes in those clouds. He remembered the old superstition that, when such clouds filled the sky, somebody was dying? Who was dying? Was it, perhaps, his countrymen, who, surprised by the sneaking enemy, had been overcome and murdered? Who knows? Perhaps a few score Burghers only had met the enemy, and had been overcome. The postmaster of H—— had told them that Jameson had Maxims and field-pieces; and what could a hundred or two hundred Burghers do, armed only with rifles, if they were to meet Jameson and his eight hundred freebooters?
When such thoughts came to Steve, he would unconsciously urge on his horse. ‘On—forward—who knows, every man may mean the straw which might break the camel’s back. Even I may do something which might turn the tide of battle.’
With such and other thoughts Steve rode on. He saddled off three different times for an hour before day broke, to give his horse a rest and to allow him to crop the grass along the road. Even this he grudged; he wanted to go on, always on, but prudence taught him to go slowly if he wanted to keep on going. Steve saw that he really rode an exceptional horse. When day broke, with the little rest he had had, the horse seemed almost quite fresh.
When day came, Steve began to come up with straggling parties of Burghers, who were moving forward as rapidly as their different modes of travelling permitted. He questioned some of them.
‘Your horse does not seem to be going very good, uncle.’
‘No, he is not of the best; he can keep on, but he can’t go very fast. If he could go as fast as the rest, I should not be so far behind. All the best horses are in front. The order of our field cornet is for every manto go as fast as he can; never mind those who stay behind. You see there is no time to wait. Those who can ride fast must go ahead and keep the enemy busy until we come up.’
He next came to a party of six young men, dressed in holiday attire, but on foot.
‘Hillo,neefs(cousins), are you off to the war too?’
‘You bet we are; you won’t catch us staying behind.’
‘But how is it that you have no horses; you do not seem too poor to possess horses.’
‘No, but we were too far from home to go for our horses. We had come by ox-waggon to spend New Year’s Day at Oom Paulus Stichling’s, and when we heard that the English had invaded our country again we just set off on foot, and let Jameson just wait till we come there we will show him,waar David de wortels gegrawen het.’
Steve met many more such parties who had been spending their New Year’s holiday from home, and who had left just as they were to go and meet the enemy. All the mounted Burghers he met were mostly of the very poorest, who could not afford horses of the best speed, and were consequently left behind. As Steve saw that the order of the day was for every man to go as fast as he could, and never mind those who stayed behind, he thought he could do no better than follow suit; consequently, he did not stand on any ceremony, but rode on as fast as he thought prudent, leaving one party after the other behind him.
About midday, he came to a small copse of trees, which he thought just the place to saddle off for a good rest for his horse and himself, as he felt a little tired by this time, and as he was somewhat more reassured now, and the excitement he had felt was a little worn off; he also began to feel a little sleepy. He decided to knee-halter his horse and sleep for an hour, after which he would again proceed. As he was taking the saddle off, he thought he heard voices a little deeper in the copse. Heknee-haltered his horse and went to see who was there. He saw two boys of about twelve years of age, gun in hand, sitting eating slices of bread and butter.
‘Well, sonnies, and where are you off to?’
‘Going to fight Jameson.’
‘What?’
‘Are you deaf, uncle? We are going to fight Jameson.’
‘Does your pa know that you are going to the war?’
‘Oh, no, our parents are all away; my father and his (nodding towards his companion) are both gone to the war. They left us to look after the house, but as soon as they were gone, we each took a gun and followed;weare not going to stay at home while the old people fight, ha! ha!’
‘Well you are the right kind of Afrikanders, you are no cowards; the English will never take our country while our young men have such patriotism,’ and Steve felt proud to shake hands with these youngsters; he saw that in such a spirit lay the strength of his nation.
The boys, with the usual spirit of Afrikander hospitality, offered to share their bread and butter with Steve. He gladly accepted a slice, as he had eaten nothing since the evening before, when he had had a biscuit and a cup of coffee with the stranger.
After the boys had finished their dinner, they shouldered their guns and resumed their journey, while Steve laid himself down on the grass and fell asleep. When he woke, he saw that he had slept an hour and a half. He hastily saddled his horse and rode on. The horse seemed to have taken full advantage of Steve’s long sleep, as he seemed quite refreshed again. Steve could not but congratulate himself again and again as he saw what great enduring powers the horse possessed.
At dusk our hero arrived at a wayside hotel. His horse was now thoroughly tired. He saw that he would have to stay here several hours, unless he wanted his horse to give in. His first inquiry was forforage, which luckily was to be had in any quantity at a big price.
After having seen his horse well fed and rubbed down, Steve went into the house and asked for some supper. Some cold meat, bread, butter and coffee was placed before him, and he made as good a meal of it as could be expected.
After supper, he asked for a room to lie down for a few hours. He was shown a room not very clean and neat; still a tired man could at least rest in it; besides, beggars could not be choosers.
But before lying down, Steve went out to once more see his horse supplied with forage. As he was superintending the cutting up of the oat sheaves, the proprietor—whom he had not yet seen—came up to him. After a few introductory remarks between them, his host asked him in English where he was going.
He replied in the same language, with as pure an accent as the Englishman’s own, that he was going to Krugersdorp.
‘Have you heard the glorious news?’ asked the host.
‘No; what is it?’
‘The Boers and Jameson have met, and Jameson has defeated the Boers, killing three hundred of them.’
Steve turned pale in the dark. He could hardly speak at first. At last he managed to say,—
‘How do you know this?’
‘I have just come back from our post-office, where I had been to get some news. I there met a man who had left the battlefield at noon; it was near Krugersdorp; he had been riding post-haste to carry despatches somewhere. He says it was an awful sight to see it. Jameson’s troops were simply mowing the Boers down with Maxims and Nordenfelds. The Boers had no Maxims or field-pieces, and could simply do nothing with their rifles against the troopers.’
‘But who is this despatch rider? Can his story be believed?’
‘Oh, as to that, there can be no doubt of it, he is one of Jameson’s own officers; his name is Captain Thatcher, so it must be true. It is a glorious day for Englishmen. Amajuba has been wiped out at last, and the English flag shall now once more fly over the Transvaal.’ He thought he was speaking to an Englishman. Steve answered not a word. He walked away. He felt he could not restrain himself much longer in this man’s presence. He walked blindly away towards the open veld. It was moonlight, but he saw nothing about him. He could only see in his mind’s eye, on an open plain, a battlefield, and on this battlefield he could see hundreds of his beloved countrymen lying—dead—murdered—by the freebooters. Oh, what a fearful sight. What homes are rendered desolate to-night in this country? Can it be true? Alas, I am afraid it is only too true. Jameson’s troops are well prepared and armed. Those terrible Maximsmoweddown thousands of Matabeles in the same way, and our poor Burghers were unprepared. There was no time for them to wait for cannon and Maxims to come up; they had to try and stop Jameson’s advance as best they could, before he entered Johannesburg; and, unprepared as they were, they fell into the terrible death-trap laid for them.
‘Oh, my God, why hast Thou permitted this? What hast Thy people done that Thou should desert them now in their hour of need? Oh, God of Mercy, have mercy on Thy people. Jesus, it can surely not be Thy will that these murdering, grasping, gold-worshipping, godless freebooters should slay Thy people in this way. Oh, Father in Heaven, it is surely Thy will—nay, itisThy will, that we should become a people, a nation,FreeandUnited. God, Thou hast shown it in the past; Thou hast led them on step by step, day by day, year by year, and Thou hast always given them glorious victory in their greatest time of peril. Thou hast ever been their salvation; wilt Thou desertthem now? Nay, Thou art not a God who does anything by half; Thou wilt not leave Thy work incomplete. Oh, God of Battles, show Thine wondrous power once more, and save Thy people yet.’
With what earnestness did Steve pray. He prayed and wrestled with God as he had never prayed or wrestled before. When he left his landlord he was faint with grief; great sobs of woe welled up from his very heart; but now his faith in God once more brought comfort and hope. He believed that God would not desert his people.
He went to a stream which he heard rippling near by, pulled off his clothes and had a moonlight bath, after which he felt so much refreshed that he thought he could sleep now. Going to his room, he once more uttered a prayer for help and guidance, and fell peacefully asleep, trusting all to his God.
He was awake at earliest daybreak, and, after rousing his landlord to pay his bill, he resumed his journey.
Steve’s horse went bravely on, but with slackened speed. We will not follow his further journey too closely; he met many people, all telling different tales as to the fortunes of war. One confirmed Captain Thatcher’s tale, while others totally denied it.
Steve now found himself in the vicinity of Krugersdorp. It was Thursday, the third day since he had left his friends on the banks of the Vaal. He had travelled about one hundred and fifty miles or more during the forty-eight hours since he had left them.
He was riding along as fast as his horse would go; for he knew he was reaching his journey’s end, and hecould restrain his impatience no longer. He saw a man galloping towards him in a slanting direction, which would take him towards Krugersdorp. As the man approached near enough, he recognised him to be a newspaper reporter whom he had known in Pretoria.
He stopped the reporter and inquired eagerly for news.
‘Oh! the Burghers are holding their own bravely. Since yesterday they have kept Jameson dancing about, trying to force his way through to Johannesburg, but in vain; Jameson can’t get any nearer Johannesburg. The Burghers are gradually enclosing him, and soon they will have him and his freebooters at their mercy.’
‘Thank God! but how many Burghers have been killed?’
‘Up to now, two or three at the most, and as many wounded, while Jameson has lost heavily all along.’
‘What? You are fooling me!’
‘Why?’
‘Last night I heard a report, spread by one Captain Thatcher, a despatch rider of Jameson’s, that three hundred Boers were killed, and that Jameson had beaten the Boers.’
‘It is a d——d lie!’ was the impolite but emphatic denial. ‘You can take my word for it that not more than two or three Boers are killed, and one was killed by accident in the dark by his own people, while the Boers have never been beaten yet by Jameson; on the contrary, the Boers have held Jameson in check all along, and have only been waiting for reinforcements and their artillery to carry Jameson and his troopers by storm.’
The reporter here stopped, and sat looking at Steve open-mouthed. The antics of this young man were really amusing, to say the least of it. He had rolled off his horse, and was now lying on his back, kicking his feet in the air, and now he was capering about on the grass, throwing summersault upon summersault, all the while shouting and laughing like one possessed.
‘I say, Joubert, stop that; are you mad? Get on your horse and go on; I have no time to look after a lunatic now, or to take you to the lunatic asylum.’
‘I beg your pardon, old man; I had to do it, or I should really have gone mad from joy, but I am better now,’ said Steve, remounting his horse. ‘Where are you going to?’ he asked of the reporter.
‘Oh, I am off to town to send news to thePretoria Press, which I represent here. And what do you intend doing?’
‘I wish to join one of our commandos; where shall I find one?’
‘If you will go to the top of that rise there, you will see the whole position. When I came over it, the Burghers were retreating from the railway cutting (which they had occupied during the night) towards that very ridge. I think they intend taking possession of it and the drift, so as to finally stop the progress of the Chartered troops. Good-bye; I must be off to send particulars of our position to our paper. Take care of yourself and keep out of the way of the Maxims.’
What gratitude filled the heart of Steve now when he knew that Captain Thatcher’s story was all lies and invention.
It went beyond Steve’s comprehension what object any man could have in telling such deliberate lies. This Captain Thatcher ought to have known that what he was saying was all lies, and that ultimately his want of veracity was bound to be discovered. Steve could find only one explanation, and that was that such a person tells lies simply for the love of the thing, and for the temporary notoriety that such sensational tales may bring. Some people have a way of manufacturing their news according to the demand of their audiences. If the audience were composed of Government haters and Jameson sympathisers the news was made to suit their wishes, while if it were friends of the Government, the contrary rule was observed.
When Steve came to the top of the height he saw a party of Burghers coming directly towards him. At a distance he perceived a large troop of men coming in apparent pursuit of the Burghers. These latter he correctly took to be Jameson’s filibusters.
‘Thank God! I have arrived in time to fight with my countrymen for life or—death. And if it is to lose, I would a thousand times rather die than live!’ thought Steve to himself.
Where he was standing on the rise or ridge, a reef was cropping out, throwing out projections of rocks, which formed splendid natural fortifications, giving good protection against the fire of an enemy coming in the direction from which Jameson was coming.
The Burghers seemed to be retiring from the enemy—so werethey. The fire from Jameson’s Maxims and long-range field-pieces could not be resisted on the open veld, for which reason they were retiring towards the aforesaid out-croppings, where Steve was standing. When they arrived on the spot, Steve discovered the field cornet in command of the Burghers to be an old acquaintance and friend of his. It did not take Steve more than a minute to explain matters, and to be provided with a spare rifle and a belt of ammunition.
The Burghers now took up their position amongst the rocks (which were situated exactly on the sky line of the ridge mostly, thus giving them the command of the approaches to the drift through which Jameson must pass if he passed the Burghers at all) and prepared to oppose the passage of the enemy. Jameson came on now—Maxims, field-pieces and all; his force was variously estimated from five hundred to eight hundred men. His troops were forcing onwards towards the drift.
Opposing his passage to the drift were eighty-seven Burghers (this is correct, as near as possible; there may have been a difference of one or two, more or less—but rather less) disposed in the following manner:—
In the first patch of rocks, two hundred yards fromthe road, twenty-five men occupied a position; farther on fifteen men were disposed a little nearer to the drift, but in a line with the aforesaid twenty-five men; still nearer to the drift seven men were lying in wait. Beyond the drift, about seven hundred yards away, forty Burghers occupied a small kopje. These forty men could only fire at long range on the enemy, as the long range field-pieces of the enemy prevented their leaving their shelter. The seven and fifteen men mentioned had to do most of the fighting, and had to stand the hottest fire, as the Maxims were playing almost continually on their position, but they were nobly supported by the twenty-five men stationed a little higher up. Jameson’s passage to the drift was soon stopped by the heavy fire of the Burghers, his men were dropping continually. He was obliged to give up all idea of crossing, and took possession of a farmhouse, a cattle kraal and stone-walled land. His Maxims and field-pieces were protected partially by the stone wall of the land. The majority of troops took possession of the kraal and the house. The men in possession of the kraal and house found themselves directly opposed to the twenty-five men on the ridge. The Maxims directed their fire mostly on the parties of fifteen and seven, who were directly opposite them. The field-pieces directed the full force of their fire on the forty Burghers occupying the kopje beyond the drift, who were seven hundred yards away, while the party of twenty-five was about two hundred yards from the kraal and house occupied by the enemy, and the parties of fifteen and seven, who were near to each other, were about one hundred yards from the troopers, and four hundred yards from the Maxims. More Burghers, amounting to over one thousand, were certainly in the neighbourhood of the battlefield, but were too far away to take part in the fight, and those occupying the positions above described were the only Burghers fighting—actually fighting, I mean—against Jameson at the battle of Doornkop. Steve found himselfamongst the party of fifteen described as being opposed to the Maxims.
It was a terrible ordeal for those twenty-two men lying flat behind the rocks. The Maxim bullets literally rained on them, and, unprotected by the rocks, every soul of that little band would have been wiped out in a few moments.
Steve heard (in fact, felt) a continuous patter against the rock in front of him. It seemed to him as if a whole battery of Maxims were firing at that particular rock. The chips of rock and sand were raining upon him, thrown up by the bullets. Luckily his rock was just large enough to protect him against the heavy and continuous fire. Once he just peeped over a little dent in the rock, took aim and fired, whenwhewcame a bullet right through his hat. Next moment his body must have moved slightly outside the line protected by the rock, when he felt a stinging sensation at his hip, a bullet had just grazed him. He got several more through his clothing in this way, as he moved and wormed himself about to take aim to fire. Luckily the Maxims could not fire all over at once, and while they fired at one party the other party would take advantage of the diversion in their favour to rain well-aimed shots on the enemy, and when a Burgher fired he reckoned upon one enemy being the less, either wounded or killed. For a Transvaal Boer never wastes ammunition; he never fires unless he is sure of his aim. A pang of pity went through Steve’s heart as he saw the poor troopers of Jameson dropping down one after the other; he felt that, although they were guilty of a great wrong to his country, still they were human, and to be hurled into eternity while participating in such a cowardly, back-handed blow against a people who had looked upon them as friends, and not as foes, was awful. And while aiming his rifle as accurately as he could, he murmured a prayer for the souls of those that he was helping to send to the judgment seat of God, but—inself-defence, in defence of country and national existence.
When first the fight began, Steve had felt the trembling, half fear, half suspense and excitement, usually experienced by the soldier on first facing the fire of battle. But soon he felt as calm and cool as if he were taking part in a target practice.
‘By Heaven, but these English can fight better than I thought,’ remarked a Burgher on the left of Steve. ‘I have never known them to fight so bravely before; I will give them credit for that.’
‘Yes, they do fight bravely,’ replied an old man next to him. ‘I never saw a brave fight such as this in 1881; but you must remember they have had their training in South Africa.’
‘True,’ was the reply.
At this moment Steve heard a groan on his right. Turning round, he saw a young fellow lying in such a position, that he perceived at once he must be wounded. He rolled himself towards the wounded man, took his head upon his knees and spoke to him, but received no answer. On examination he saw that he had been shot through the head. It was poor M’Donald, who, although shot through the brain, lived ten days longer, and then died, when he received an honoured funeral.
Steve helped to carry the wounded man down the opposite side of the ridge into safety, where he was left with one more wounded Burgher, in a small deserted house, in the care of two men. Steve then returned to his place, and resumed his share in the fierce fight.
The battle was raging fierce and hot. The cannon of the Chartered troops roared hoarsely above the rattle of small arms; while the continuous rat-a-tat-tat-tat of the Maxims was also to be distinguished from the more irregular and less incessant cracking of the rifles. A heavy cloud of smoke was floating above, concealing the sun as if it wished to hide the murderous work from the sight of Heaven. The slaughter amongst the Charteredtroops was terrible. One detachment after another bravely charged the position of the Burghers, under the protection of their Maxims; but it was in vain, the heavy and accurate fire of the Burghers forced them to retire with great loss every time; and the Chartered troopers were only too glad to regain their shelter.
In spite of his pity for them, Steve’s heart throbbed with a joy almost savage in its intensity when he saw the troopers giving way all along the line. They seemed to look for some point of safety towards which they might fly. But ’tis a vain hope. Look towards whatever side they will, they could see Burghers in the distance awaiting them.They were thoroughly hemmed in.
Steve saw all this and realised the position in which Jameson must find himself. He tried to place himself in Jameson’s position in imagination.
‘What should I do if I were to find myself in such a hole of my own making? Should I surrender and take my chance of getting out alive? Could I expect to get out alive in case I surrendered? No! A filibustering murderer can expect nothing but death. Death would be my sentence, byHuman Laws, byMoral Law, by God’s Law. I could not even expect a word of mercy from England. She has disowned me and my expedition, and I have disobeyed her.No, rather than give in now, after having ventured so much and risked so much to obtain my aim (whatever that may be), I would rather fight to the end and obtain that sympathy and that martyrdom that the grave always brings. That would be something, at least, while to surrendernowwould mean eternal disgrace, trouble unending, and perhaps death on the scaffold.
But Jameson must have thought otherwise, as we shall see. He was either too cowardly to die such a death, or he must have known beforehand that external aid (of which Steve did not know then) would be rendered him. He must have known (maybe it was promised him in case of failure) that the full weight of Chartered influencesand Chartered capital would be exerted in his favour.
While Steve was thus meditating, as he surveyed the field of battle and Jameson’s hopeless condition, the battle was still proceeding as fiercely as ever. Turn and twist as they would, the Chartered troops found that the Boer bullets followed them everywhere.
Suddenly a cheer was raised by the Burghers. Steve looked to see the reason for this, and saw, directed by the joyful looks of the Burghers, the State artillery taking up a position on a distant rise.
The artillery had arrived at last, but too late. At this moment a white flag was hoisted by the Chartered troops. It had been asserted by some that the Burghers fired a volley after the white flag was hoisted. It is partly true. The flag was hoisted by the troopers directly facing Steve’s party of Burghers. The white flag was out of sight of the twenty-five Burghers stationed higher up, as the rocks hid the lower end of Jameson’s line from their view. Therefore a few shots were fired by them the moment after the flag was hoisted. But the shouts of their companions who saw the flag apprised them of the fact, when, of course, they immediately ceased firing.
The Burghers now left their shelter and came out, walking and riding towards Jameson’s position. Jameson’s troopers deployed, so as to place themselves between the Burghers and their own Maxims and cannon.
The field cornet now ordered a Burgher named P. Nagel to go and see ‘what the English wanted.’ He went, and returned with a request from Jameson to be allowed to return over the border. He (Jameson) was informed that his request was impossible, as he had had the opportunity given him to return before any fighting took place, and he failed to take advantage of it, but that a meeting of officers would be called together at once to further consider his request.
In the meanwhile Commandant Cronje, who was with the Burghers beyond the drift, sent to Jameson to know whether he surrendered, being unaware of the messenger sent by the field cornet, and whose report had been submitted to Commandant Polgieter of Krugersdorp. Jameson replied to Commandant Cronje’s message with an offer to surrender if the lives of himself and men were guaranteed, whereupon Commandant Cronje informed Jameson that if he laid down his arms and would promise to pay the expenses of the Government of the South African Republic, that he would guarantee the lives of himself and menuntil handed over to the Commandant-General, when the Krijgsraad would further decide upon his case. More, he had no authority to promise. He gave Jameson thirty minutes to consider and accept.Jameson accepted.