The Native Village of Mafeking.The Native Village of Mafeking.
The Native Village of Mafeking.
The following correspondence now passed between Commandant Snyman and Colonel Baden-Powell in reference to the former’s alleged employment of “barbarians” by the British in cattle-raiding expeditions:—
“Marico Laager, Molopo,April 7.“To his HonourColonelBaden-Powell, Mafeking.“Enclosed I beg to send to you a copy of a pass signed ‘A. T. Mackenzie, Black Watch,’ and dated April 4, which is a clear proof that Kaffirs are sent out, with your Honour’s knowledge, naturally, as head officer, to plunder, rob, and murder. I am very sorry to see that tyranny carries away the goodnature of so polite a nation as the English. They know that the barbarians have nothing else in view. Twenty Kaffirs were sent last week in a northerly direction by an English officer, according to the statement of a wounded native who was taught a lesson by one of my burghers. Thirty-two were sent on the 4th, according to a pass found in the pockets of one of the killed. They were all shot yesterday. I request you to be kind enough to fetch the bodies. Please send an ambulance under a Red Cross flag in the direction of Canton Kopje, and notify me immediately the waggons have left. I will send some of my burghers to point out the battle-field.—Your Honour’s obedient servant,“J. P. Snyman.”
“Marico Laager, Molopo,April 7.
“To his HonourColonelBaden-Powell, Mafeking.
“Enclosed I beg to send to you a copy of a pass signed ‘A. T. Mackenzie, Black Watch,’ and dated April 4, which is a clear proof that Kaffirs are sent out, with your Honour’s knowledge, naturally, as head officer, to plunder, rob, and murder. I am very sorry to see that tyranny carries away the goodnature of so polite a nation as the English. They know that the barbarians have nothing else in view. Twenty Kaffirs were sent last week in a northerly direction by an English officer, according to the statement of a wounded native who was taught a lesson by one of my burghers. Thirty-two were sent on the 4th, according to a pass found in the pockets of one of the killed. They were all shot yesterday. I request you to be kind enough to fetch the bodies. Please send an ambulance under a Red Cross flag in the direction of Canton Kopje, and notify me immediately the waggons have left. I will send some of my burghers to point out the battle-field.—Your Honour’s obedient servant,
“J. P. Snyman.”
“Mafeking,April 7.“To his HonourGeneralSnyman.“Sir,—I have the honour to acknowledge your letter of to-day. In regard to the pass signed ‘Mackenzie,’ this man had no authority to issue a pass of any kind, much less for the purpose stated. I am obliged to you for bringing the case to my notice. As regards your Honour’s statement that your burghers killed thirty-two natives, I beg to inform you that I know nothing whatever about these men. They were certainly not acting under orders received from myself, nor, so far as I am aware, from any of my officers. I would point out that there are a number of natives about the country in a destitute condition owing to their homes having been burnt and their cattle stolen by your burghers, and it is only too probable that they have taken the law into their own hands to endeavour to obtain food. Of this I have warned your honour before. For their acts I must decline to be held in any way responsible.—I have the honour to be your obedient servant,R. S. S. Baden-Powell, Colonel commanding H.M. troops in Mafeking.”
“Mafeking,April 7.
“To his HonourGeneralSnyman.
“Sir,—I have the honour to acknowledge your letter of to-day. In regard to the pass signed ‘Mackenzie,’ this man had no authority to issue a pass of any kind, much less for the purpose stated. I am obliged to you for bringing the case to my notice. As regards your Honour’s statement that your burghers killed thirty-two natives, I beg to inform you that I know nothing whatever about these men. They were certainly not acting under orders received from myself, nor, so far as I am aware, from any of my officers. I would point out that there are a number of natives about the country in a destitute condition owing to their homes having been burnt and their cattle stolen by your burghers, and it is only too probable that they have taken the law into their own hands to endeavour to obtain food. Of this I have warned your honour before. For their acts I must decline to be held in any way responsible.—I have the honour to be your obedient servant,
R. S. S. Baden-Powell, Colonel commanding H.M. troops in Mafeking.”
On the 10th of April, in the dead of night, the enemy’s field-guns were moved to positions completely surrounding the town, and shells were poured in with unparalleled persistency. Thirty dropped into the women’s laager—four into the hospital. Under cover of the bombardment the Boers, who had been reinforced by a German corps, made an attack on Fort Abrams, which they imagined had been disabled by their shell-fire. They were somewhat amazed to find that the garrison of the fort was not only alive, but kicking. The corporal in charge, who had calmly waited till his assailants had got within range, suddenly poured a fierce volley on the approaching numbers. Result: five of the enemy were left on the field, to be recovered later under a Red Cross flag. The effects of bombardment were many and various. At one time the Dutch Church was struck, at another some shells bounded on the roadway, flew through the air straight across the town, landing with awful detonations a mile on the other side. Some failed to burst, and then the duty of extracting the charge was a ticklish one. One man in so doing was blown to ribbons, pieces of him being cast to the winds and picked up quite a hundred yards from the scene of the disaster. Another man was so forcibly struck that a portion of leg and boot were forced through the iron-roofed verandah some seventy yards off!Every house was pocked with its melancholy tale. There were holes you could jump through in the ceiling of some of the rooms, while others were shattered past recognition. Dixon’s Hotel had its end smashed, and the market-place bore signs of merciless battering.
SERGEANT 18th HUSSARSSERGEANT—18th HUSSARSPhoto by Gregory & Co., London
SERGEANT—18th HUSSARSPhoto by Gregory & Co., London
On the 12th a welcome guest came in the form of a pigeon, bearing a message from Colonel Plumer. No small creature of the winged tribe had ever before conveyed so much satisfaction, save perhaps the first prominent performer in the days of the ark. News also arrived by runner, of Mr. Smitheman’s safe arrival, and a message from her Majesty was delivered to Colonel Baden-Powell. This kindly expression of the Sovereign’s sympathy was highly appreciated, and served to inspirit the whole community.
Later, a splendid effort was made by Colonel Plumer’s force to run a herd of cattle into the town. A party of Baralongs, under a native captain, got to within seven miles of the town when they were attacked on both flanks by the enemy. They nevertheless pursued their way, screening themselves as far as possible behind the bodies of the cattle, which were driven in front of them. But the Boer fire was unerring, and soon only fifteen of the poor beasts remained. These, at last, had to be abandoned, for owing to the lack of ammunition the cattle-runners were forced to make themselves scarce. Such as were wounded were left behind, and were murdered by the Boers. Several native women who, from fear of starvation, attempted to pierce the Boer lines, were also put to death. This behaviour much incensed the British, for the Baralongs had from the first earned the esteem of the community by their unswerving loyalty. Major Baillie, writing home, eulogised their conduct, and expressed a hope that their devotion would be recognised at the end of the war. He said:—
“After the first day’s shelling the mouthpiece of the Baralong tribe, Silas Molemo, came up to Mr. Bell, the resident magistrate, and said to him, ‘Never mind this; we will stick to you and see it through,’ which they certainly have done. They are not a tribe who would make a dashing attack, or, to use the expression, ‘be bossed up’ to do things which they don’t particularly want to; but, given a defensive position, they will hang on to it for all they are worth, as they have proved many times during the war in the defence of their stadt. They have had their cattle raided, their outlying homesteads destroyed, their crops for this year are nil, and all through a time when the outlook to a native mind must have seemed most black they have unswervingly and uncomplainingly stuck to us, and never hesitated to do anything they were called on to do.” (It is pleasant to note that after the relief the Baralongs received formal recognition of their splendid loyalty.)
“The better the day, the better the deed,” was evidently the mottoof the Boers, for on Good Friday they applied their energies to the construction of new trenches and fortifications about fifteen hundred yards beyond their former position. In order not to be behind the times, the bread ration of the day was marked with a cross, to do duty as a “hot cross bun.” On the following day misfortune hung over the place, for two troopers, Molloy and Hassell, belonging to the Fort Ayr garrison, were caught by a shell and mortally wounded. On Easter Day there were sports to revive the spirits of the garrison.
On the 19th of April the Creusot gun was withdrawn, and the inhabitants took heart. To vary their menu they now engaged in a locust haul, the result of which was to supply a third variant to the bill of fare. Lady Sarah Wilson, telegraphing to her friends, described her diet of horse sausages, minced mule, and curried locusts! The latter insects were reported to be tender as chicken and as tasty as prawn “almondised.” The natives had a good meal, and visibly grew fat. On the following day a telegram was received from Lord Roberts requesting the garrison to hold out till the 18th of May. It was disappointing, none could deny, but they consoled themselves that a message showing they were marked down in the programme of “coming events” was better than nothing at all. Fortunately the food still held out. Water—pure water—was rare as Edelweiss, and liquor of other kind was unobtainable. Only money was what our friends on the Stock Exchange call “tight.” The bank was closed to the general public, and her Majesty’s presentment upon a coin was a prize to be cherished and clung to till—well, till the crack of doom should make the ever-promised and never-realised relief unnecessary.
But the great food problem well-nigh exhausted all the energies of those concerned with it. Captain Ryan, D.A.A.G., sat daily in the interior of his bomb-proof office receiving a procession of persons who filed in to make their impossible demands, and deliberating on the curious fact that the stomach rules the world. The honour of the British Empire at that moment hung by a mere thread—it was a question of how slender a thread of nourishment could keep body and soul tacked together to represent the figure of an Englishman! Nevertheless Mafeking, like Kimberley, was bound to have its marriage bells. A Dutch bride, ignorant of English, was led to the altar by a private of the Bechuanaland Rifles, ignorant of Dutch. Philosophers predicted considerable felicity, as between them the couple had sufficient language for love-making and scarce sufficient for controversy.
At this time Captain Ryan made a statement regarding the supplies of the town, which serves to show the pitch to which caution was carried:—
“The total number of white men is approximately 1150, of white women 400, and of white children 300. The coloured population consists of some 2000 men, 2000 women, and 3000 children.“Both the white and coloured men originally received eight ounces of bread. The allowance has now been reduced to six, but a quart of soup is given to make up the deficiency. Half a gallon of sowan porridge a day will sustain life. The recipients are of three classes; those who receive it in lieu of two ounces of bread; those who wish to purchase food over and above the quantity to which they are entitled; those who are absolutely destitute, both black and white, and who receive the porridge free. It has been suggested that the natives should not be charged for sowan porridge, but it is thought unwise to pauperise either blacks or whites. If any profit has been made from the sale by the end of the siege it will be employed in buying grain for the many native women and children in Mafeking who have been involved in a quarrel which is not theirs.“The horse soup is made from the carcasses of animals which had ceased to be serviceable and those killed by the enemy’s fire, as well as horses and donkeys purchased from individuals who can no longer afford to keep them. This soup is unpopular among the natives, but this is due rather to prejudice than to its quality.“The distribution of supplies is entirely under Imperial control. The Army Service Corps possesses a slaughter-house, a bakery, and a grocery, at which the authorities receive and distribute all vegetables, and it receives and distributes milk to the hospital, to women and children, and to men who have been medically certified to need it.“At present the hospital is supplied with white bread, and it is hoped that the supply will be continued. Hospital comforts are issued to such as are in need of them, both in and out patients, on receipt of an order from a medical officer. For the nurses and doctors, who work day and night, the authorities endeavoured to provide slightly better rations than those available for the general community. Our sources of supply have been chiefly through Mr. Weil, who had a large stock on hand for the provisioning of the garrison, until the contract terminated at the beginning of February. Since then supplies have been collected from various merchants, storekeepers, and private persons and stored in the Army Service Corps depôt, and from the original Army Service Corps stocks, of which forage and oats formed a great proportion. Fresh beef is obtained by purchase from a private individual named White, and in a lesser degree from the natives.“Breadstuffs are obtained, like groceries, by commandeering the stocks of various merchants and private persons.”
“The total number of white men is approximately 1150, of white women 400, and of white children 300. The coloured population consists of some 2000 men, 2000 women, and 3000 children.
“Both the white and coloured men originally received eight ounces of bread. The allowance has now been reduced to six, but a quart of soup is given to make up the deficiency. Half a gallon of sowan porridge a day will sustain life. The recipients are of three classes; those who receive it in lieu of two ounces of bread; those who wish to purchase food over and above the quantity to which they are entitled; those who are absolutely destitute, both black and white, and who receive the porridge free. It has been suggested that the natives should not be charged for sowan porridge, but it is thought unwise to pauperise either blacks or whites. If any profit has been made from the sale by the end of the siege it will be employed in buying grain for the many native women and children in Mafeking who have been involved in a quarrel which is not theirs.
“The horse soup is made from the carcasses of animals which had ceased to be serviceable and those killed by the enemy’s fire, as well as horses and donkeys purchased from individuals who can no longer afford to keep them. This soup is unpopular among the natives, but this is due rather to prejudice than to its quality.
“The distribution of supplies is entirely under Imperial control. The Army Service Corps possesses a slaughter-house, a bakery, and a grocery, at which the authorities receive and distribute all vegetables, and it receives and distributes milk to the hospital, to women and children, and to men who have been medically certified to need it.
“At present the hospital is supplied with white bread, and it is hoped that the supply will be continued. Hospital comforts are issued to such as are in need of them, both in and out patients, on receipt of an order from a medical officer. For the nurses and doctors, who work day and night, the authorities endeavoured to provide slightly better rations than those available for the general community. Our sources of supply have been chiefly through Mr. Weil, who had a large stock on hand for the provisioning of the garrison, until the contract terminated at the beginning of February. Since then supplies have been collected from various merchants, storekeepers, and private persons and stored in the Army Service Corps depôt, and from the original Army Service Corps stocks, of which forage and oats formed a great proportion. Fresh beef is obtained by purchase from a private individual named White, and in a lesser degree from the natives.
“Breadstuffs are obtained, like groceries, by commandeering the stocks of various merchants and private persons.”
Lord Roberts now commuted the sentence of the court-martial which tried Lieutenant Murchison for the murder of Mr. Parslow to one of penal servitude for life. Many of those who had been associated with this officer did not consider him responsible for his actions, and were relieved at the lightening of the punishment of a comrade-in-arms.
On the 27th Colonel Baden-Powell sent the following message to Lord Roberts:—
“After two hundred days’ siege I desire to bring to your lordship’s notice the exceptionally good spirit of loyalty that pervades allclasses of this garrison. The patience of everybody in Mafeking in making the best of things under the long strain of anxiety, hardship, and privation is beyond all praise, and is a revelation to me. The men, half of whom are unaccustomed to the use of arms, have adapted themselves to their duties with the greatest zeal, readiness, and pluck, and the devotion of the women is remarkable. With such a spirit our organisation runs like clockwork, and I have every hope it will pull us successfully through.”
Postage Stamps issued at Mafeking during the Siege.Postage Stamps issued at Mafeking during the Siege.
Postage Stamps issued at Mafeking during the Siege.
At this time, the Boers being more peaceful, the citizens prepared to celebrate the two hundredth day of the siege by horse dinners. Various other mysterious meats, whose origin none dared investigate, appeared on the bill of fare. One lady developed a genius for treating the meat rations, and went so far as to give a dinner-party. Her process was elaborate. The meat ration was cut up and the objectionable pieces removed. It was then soaked in salt and water for three hours, and made into soup thickened with starch. The next course was the beef out of the soup, served with potato tops, which were found most delectable. Then came a sowans pudding. Sowans proved a failure when served as porridge or curry, but when the preparation was mixed with starch, bicarbonate of soda, and baking powder, people were swift to partake.
In addition to the usual delicacies, minced mule and the aforesaid sowan porridge, invented by an ingenious Scottish crofter of the name of Sims, there was now manufactured a curious brawn of horsehide, which was generally sneered at but devoured with alacrity. Curio hunters longed to preserve a slab of it for presentation to the British Museum, but the feat of self-abnegation was too hard to be endured. Besides, as some philosopher said while putting it into a place of safety, it would be the highest horse that was ever exhibited by the time it got there, and the building wouldn’t hold it. The community was almost entirely a teetotal one. “Wee drappies” grew so wee as to be almost invisible, and when a case of whisky was raffled for it fetched £107, 10s.!
On the 29th a military tournament was held, whereat a great display of cheerfulness was affected, to cover the fact that fever, malarial and typhoid, was gaining ground in the hospitals.
The Rhodesian troops were now at Moshwana, British Bechuanaland, in camp some thirty miles from Mafeking. The small force with a single serviceable gun could really accomplish little, and it was marvellous, considering its extreme weakness, how it managed to maintain the aggressive at all.
Early in April Colonel Plumer started a pigeon post, and the first pigeon despatched arrived at Mafeking within four hours. The second was not so fortunate, but later on the successful bird was sent off again, on an educational trip, with younger birds in its wake.
On the 22nd Trooper Brindal of the Rhodesian Regiment died of the wounds sustained in the action on the 31st of March. Archdeacon Upcher and Father Hartman returned from the sad mission of discovering and burying the remains of Lieutenant Milligan, who fell at Ramathlabama. The enemy now were being reinforced from time to time by parties from east and south, and as far as could be ascertained by Colonel Plumer, who sent out native runners to apprise him of the doings of the southern relief column, the Boers around Mafeking numbered about 3000.
On the 24th General Carrington’s force, consisting of 1100 men, with mounts and transports, arrived at Beira, and proceeded from thence to Marandellas, twenty-five miles from Salisbury, the capital of Rhodesia. The route, the first 200 miles of which is through Portuguese territory, is covered by railway. The distance from Beira to Salisbury is some 375 miles. The Beira railway was carried in 1898 as far as New Umtali, where it was connected with the system of the Mashonaland Railway Company. At Salisbury the railway ceases, and between this point and Bulawayo, the terminus of the Cape Railway, a space of 280 miles needed to be covered by an extension. From Bulawayo all promised to be plain sailing, as, owing to the untiring energies of Colonel Plumer and his small force—whose valuable services have never been sufficiently esteemed—the road and rail to Mafeking had been protected and preserved.
On the 28th, Lieutenant Moorson left Mafeking and reached Colonel Plumer’s camp at noon of the 29th, conveying to him the latest intelligence, and helping him to formulate plans for the big project of relief which will be described anon.
Early in April a portion of the Colonial Division, composed of Cape Mounted Rifles, the Royal Scots Mounted Infantry, Driscoll’s Scouts, Kaffrarian Mounted Rifles under Captain Price, Brabant’s Horse, two 15-pounders, two naval 12-pounders, two 7-pounders, one Hotchkiss, and three Maxims, the whole force under Colonel Dalgety, crossed the Caledon Bridge at Jammersberg Drift, took possession of it as the most important strategetical point, and occupied the town of Wepener without opposition. The Colonel had no sooner done so than he was surrounded by Dutchmen, and made aware that he must prepare to stand a siege. A party of Boers accompanying a German officer, who were blindfolded before being brought in, now entered Wepener bearing a message from the commandant. He very kindly demanded the instant surrender of the British to save further bloodshed. The messengers retired without taking with them a reply to the considerate request, but asking whether some mistake had not been made, and inviting their surrender instead. As the Boers were now threatening an attack on the force, Sir G. Lagden demanded a demonstration by the Basutos on the Basuto border. This was readily responded to, for the nation naturally resented any invasion of their territory by their hereditary foes; and, moreover, the chiefs had been vastly impressed by the “big heart” of the Englishmen with whom they had come in contact, and their stubborn resistance of the Boer attacks. Wepener itself was evacuated, but a camp at Jammersberg, three miles off, was formed, entrenchments made, and defences ingeniously constructed. The position, somewhat resembling Ladysmith, was situated in the saucer-shaped hollow of many hills. It was practically isolated, but the lines were strong, and meat was plentiful.
Colonel Dalgety, who commanded the gallant little force, is an old officer of the Cape Mounted Rifles, and has as a record of services the Gaika and Galeka expeditions, and the operations in Basutoland in 1880-81. He had no doubt in his ability to hold out against the besiegers, although the force was only 1700 to 1800 strong, and the position was really too extensive. To protect it properly required about 4000 men. The Cape Mounted Rifles, with a company ofRoyal Scots, were ordered to hold the left of the position, the weakest point; 1st Brabants and some Kaffrarian Rifles the front; 2nd Brabants the right; and Kaffrarian Rifles the rear.
A stirring day’s work was recorded on the 8th by an officer, whose experiences were published in theGlobe:—
“April 8, 7A.M.—As I write, with my back against the trench, we have reached the fifth day of the noisy concert without any appreciable result, except that we have expended most of our ammunition. Not a gun has been dismounted, not an inch of our long line of defence (ten miles, about) been yielded to the enemy; but about 150 gallant fellows, mostly gentlemen by birth, of the Colonial Division, arehors de combat, and we are still looking and longing to see the relief columns of Kitchener or Gatacre appear on the horizon.... While sitting chatting with Captain Cholmondley, I saw across the ravine my own squadron, ‘M,’ descending rapidly into the valley to reoccupy the rifle-pits which Ruttledge had vacated at daylight, and exposed to a heavy shrapnel fire. I scrambled down the ridge and joined them at the pits, but had scarcely got my men posted, when Cookson was seen coming towards us at a mad gallop. My orders were to leave one troop (Ruttledge’s) in the rifle-pits, and take the other three to support Colonel Dalgety, who was hard pressed on our left rear. I should have to cross a plain swept by the Boer fire.“When I had climbed up the steep ravine on the top of the main ridge we found all our horses hidden away in a fold of the ground. To mount was the work of a minute, and then we were launched on our mad gallop across a plain swept by Boer Maxim and rifle fire. I led, and the men followed most gallantly into the ‘jaws of death.’ Nothing but annihilation seemed to await us; but on we swept over that mile and a half like wild men, an excited American, constantly by my side and sometimes ahead of me, shouting, ‘In the joy of battle.’ It was, I think, the most exciting quarter of an hour I have spent in my adventurous life. My horse was going at racing pace, when suddenly I came upon a kranze, down which I leaped in fox-hunting style. I thought this would finish all my bad riders; but although they tailed off somewhat into a longer line than the open order I had ordered, they were still in the ruck, and we all came together somewhat too closely at a wire fence, which brought us to a standstill. Having negotiated this, we came upon another similar one, which we all got through somehow. All this time the little columns of dust were rising all round and constantly under my horse’s belly. Again we were brought up by a deep donga, along which we had to turn to our right and skirt it till it was negotiable, where the banks had been cut down on each side for the horses of the C.M.R. to cross. I made then for a group of dismounted horses held in shelter behind a strong causeway. Here was Dalgety, to whom I reported myself. In a few minutes the Boers brought another gun into position, which sent a shell into us, killing four gun mules linked together in their harness, six troop horses, one of mine, and one nigger, who was holding the mules. They fell in a heap, and presented a most gruesome appearance. One or two men were also wounded by the same shell, which was the signal for a skurry for shelter behind huge boulders. The horses were sent down to the donga before mentioned, where, though sheltered from shot and shell, they spent four miserable days, until at last a heavy rain filled the donga, and some of the horses were swimming. All had had their saddles on from the first day. Some of these had been torn off by the horses’ frantic efforts to get out, andwere lost in the mud. Finally they all got out, and covered the plains under the Boer fire. Many of them were shot.“After the deadly shell I began to count up my men and find out how many were missing after the charge across the plain, and the last dose of shrapnel. To my surprise, they all answered to their names excepting two. Macarthy had been struck full in the forehead by a Mauser bullet, and fell from his horse as one dead. He is now recovering. Reid, an American, was shot through the side and arm, and is also recovering. Turner, my senior lieutenant, had been struck in the hip with a bit of segment shell, but stuck most pluckily to his post.”
“April 8, 7A.M.—As I write, with my back against the trench, we have reached the fifth day of the noisy concert without any appreciable result, except that we have expended most of our ammunition. Not a gun has been dismounted, not an inch of our long line of defence (ten miles, about) been yielded to the enemy; but about 150 gallant fellows, mostly gentlemen by birth, of the Colonial Division, arehors de combat, and we are still looking and longing to see the relief columns of Kitchener or Gatacre appear on the horizon.... While sitting chatting with Captain Cholmondley, I saw across the ravine my own squadron, ‘M,’ descending rapidly into the valley to reoccupy the rifle-pits which Ruttledge had vacated at daylight, and exposed to a heavy shrapnel fire. I scrambled down the ridge and joined them at the pits, but had scarcely got my men posted, when Cookson was seen coming towards us at a mad gallop. My orders were to leave one troop (Ruttledge’s) in the rifle-pits, and take the other three to support Colonel Dalgety, who was hard pressed on our left rear. I should have to cross a plain swept by the Boer fire.
“When I had climbed up the steep ravine on the top of the main ridge we found all our horses hidden away in a fold of the ground. To mount was the work of a minute, and then we were launched on our mad gallop across a plain swept by Boer Maxim and rifle fire. I led, and the men followed most gallantly into the ‘jaws of death.’ Nothing but annihilation seemed to await us; but on we swept over that mile and a half like wild men, an excited American, constantly by my side and sometimes ahead of me, shouting, ‘In the joy of battle.’ It was, I think, the most exciting quarter of an hour I have spent in my adventurous life. My horse was going at racing pace, when suddenly I came upon a kranze, down which I leaped in fox-hunting style. I thought this would finish all my bad riders; but although they tailed off somewhat into a longer line than the open order I had ordered, they were still in the ruck, and we all came together somewhat too closely at a wire fence, which brought us to a standstill. Having negotiated this, we came upon another similar one, which we all got through somehow. All this time the little columns of dust were rising all round and constantly under my horse’s belly. Again we were brought up by a deep donga, along which we had to turn to our right and skirt it till it was negotiable, where the banks had been cut down on each side for the horses of the C.M.R. to cross. I made then for a group of dismounted horses held in shelter behind a strong causeway. Here was Dalgety, to whom I reported myself. In a few minutes the Boers brought another gun into position, which sent a shell into us, killing four gun mules linked together in their harness, six troop horses, one of mine, and one nigger, who was holding the mules. They fell in a heap, and presented a most gruesome appearance. One or two men were also wounded by the same shell, which was the signal for a skurry for shelter behind huge boulders. The horses were sent down to the donga before mentioned, where, though sheltered from shot and shell, they spent four miserable days, until at last a heavy rain filled the donga, and some of the horses were swimming. All had had their saddles on from the first day. Some of these had been torn off by the horses’ frantic efforts to get out, andwere lost in the mud. Finally they all got out, and covered the plains under the Boer fire. Many of them were shot.
“After the deadly shell I began to count up my men and find out how many were missing after the charge across the plain, and the last dose of shrapnel. To my surprise, they all answered to their names excepting two. Macarthy had been struck full in the forehead by a Mauser bullet, and fell from his horse as one dead. He is now recovering. Reid, an American, was shot through the side and arm, and is also recovering. Turner, my senior lieutenant, had been struck in the hip with a bit of segment shell, but stuck most pluckily to his post.”
The officer went on to narrate an episode which deserves to be remembered among the deeds of heroism which distinguished this notable period: “Coming across from the C.M.R. lines towards the Kaffrarian lines was a stretcher carried by four men with a wounded man on it. As soon as it came from under the shelter of the kopje on which we and the C.M.R. live, about 1200 yards from the ridge held by the enemy, opposite the open end of the horse-shoe, it was received by a hail of bullets. On went the gallant bearers for about a hundred yards, when they came to a sudden stand, put the stretcher on the ground, and seemed to consult. First one ran about twenty yards, to fall, apparently shot dead; then another did the same, and the third; and the three corpses were lying on the ground. The fourth man fell on his knees between the stretcher and the enemy. The Boers, then satisfied that they had disposed of this lot, ceased firing at them for the space of some minutes, when suddenly the four dead men came to life, rushed to the stretcher, and went on with it at the double, though little columns of dust rose thicker than ever round the devoted bearers. When they had crossed the fire zone and came under the shelter of a small kopje, something very like a cheer rose from the three hundred spectators of this exciting scene. Putting the breach of the Geneva Convention out of the question, there could not be a better exemplification of the savagery of the Boers. Even a savage foe would have respected such courage as these men showed in their efforts to save their wounded comrade. The wounded man turned out to be Captain Goldsworthy of the C.M.R., wounded in two places, whom I afterwards saw in hospital here, and the one who shielded him with his own body was a young trumpeter in the C.M.R., who, I believe, will get the V.C.”
MOUNTED INFANTRY(Corporal)(Sergeant)MOUNTED INFANTRYPhoto by Gregory & Co., London
(Corporal)(Sergeant)MOUNTED INFANTRYPhoto by Gregory & Co., London
On the 8th a commando some 2000 strong, with four guns, laagered five miles out in the direction of Dewetsdorp, and on the 9th the town of Wepener was occupied by the Boers, who, in number from 5000 to 6000, spread themselves crescentwise around the British position. Not long were they inactive. Their guns began to open on the camp, and received a prompt answer from the15-pounders. A vigorous artillery duel, involving great loss to the besieged, was then kept up throughout the day.
A member of the stalwart band gave his impressions of the first days of the fighting: “The brave lot of fellows of the C.M.R. were stormed at until we almost gave up hope that any human being could stand against it; but very fortunately for us they did so, and although the Boers came almost behind them and enfiladed their trenches, killing and wounding between sixty and seventy of the regiment. Goodness knows how many of the Boers were killed. Their losses must have been great, no matter what they may say afterwards. Towards daylight the enemy retired to their former position, and at daybreak the fight went merrily on its way, but, luckily, shifted from the poor played-out C.M.R. for a few hours. Major Sprenger, poor fellow, was simply riddled with bullets. Captain Goldsworthy and Major Waring, together with several other officers, were wounded, and now the C.M.R. are commanded by only a few officers, including their most gallant Colonel Dalgety. Captain Cookson, another of their officers, is an especial favourite with our men, as he looks after them as well as his own men in action. He fears no dangers, and so instils confidence into others.
“All went well with us until the good-night shell, which bursts over our camp about six o’clock each night, arrived. Cookson and I were superintending the sending of the food to the trenches, where our brave men were so bravely holding their own, when I heard the whistle of the shell and heard it burst, and simultaneously was knocked down by a shrapnel bullet, which, fortunately for yours truly, did not penetrate far into my thigh. As no bones were broken, I hope—in fact, I am sure—I shall be able to walk in a day or two from now. Lieutenant Duncan, also wounded in the leg, and myself were placed in a small schanze, erected for the purpose, but as there was no roof to it, and the rain poured for hours during the night, we were soaked to the bone. It could not be helped, there being no other place in which to put us; so we did not complain. It was just as well we did not go to the hospital, which is already overcrowded—no fewer than 110 wounded men there—as I learn that one of our wounded men was yesterday killed in it with a Boer bullet; in fact, the Boers several times fired at it. We now have a waggon sail over our schanze, and feel nice and comfortable. We expect to be able to move about by Easter Sunday. Captain Hamilton has been very kind; comes to visit us two or three times a day, and runs a strong chance of being shot, as the snipers shoot at every one who shows himself. He is only one of the lot; they are all the same.”
The Defence of Wepener.The Defence of Wepener.(From a Sketch by Major A. Festing.)
The Defence of Wepener.(From a Sketch by Major A. Festing.)
On Tuesday, the 10th, came more duelling. In the morning with artillery, in the afternoon with rifles. The Cape MountedRifles did good execution, for the Boers who had approached to 250 yards of their position were forced to remove. An officer of Brabant’s Horse spoke most enthusiastically of the C.M.R. He said:—
“We fought all day and all night. The big gun and rifle fire were almost deafening, and as we are entirely surrounded, it was pouring in on all sides, a continuous hail of shot and shell. Towards afternoon they directed all their gun fire to one spot, and blew to bits the schanzes of the C.M.R., thus leaving them almost unprotected, and in the night they attempted to take the position by assault. Although the C.M.R. were very considerably outnumbered, the Boers were unable to attain their object. They had not reckoned on the opposition of, undoubtedly, one of the finest regiments in the whole world, as the C.M.R. are. We (1st Brabants) were unable to send reinforcements to the gallant fellows, as we expected an attack ourselves at any moment, and our position is such an extended one, that it required every man to hold it. If only we had a few hundreds more to hold the trenches with us, and an ample supply of ammunition, we would be quite happy.”
The scarcity of ammunition began to cause anxiety, and also the condition of the atmosphere. The air was almost unbreathable. Fumes from dead horses, cows, pigs, which were strewed on the surrounding plains, rose in sunshine or rain as from a caldron of pestilence. There was no avoiding them, and death by worse than shot and shell—by slow ravaging malaria, or greedy epidemic—seemed to be traced by the finger of expectation across the foul atmosphere. No longer was there pleasure in gazing out at the beautiful green hills, that but a little while ago had been speckled with white tents and draped with the ethereal gossamer of blue smoke from the fitful flame of the camp fires. War had sounded its most discordant note—hard—emphatic. The tents were all struck. On the ground they lay prone, battered by the pouring rain. Camp fires were now few and far between, and the only smoke to be seen came from the snorting nozzles of implements of death. The rattle of musketry made the melody of day and night. The men, huddled up in their trenches, rained on by heaven-sent storm, rained on by hell-sent shrapnel, unable to raise a head lest the movement would be their last, still remained glorious fellows, cheery, jocose, hailing the humours of their tragic position with shouts of laughter, and skipping, with true heroism, the ghastly and the terrible that thrust itself between them and their courage.
One of their number described the trenches as “simply ordinary trenches dug in the ground, with the earth and stones thrown out on the front side, strengthened by sand-bags. During the first day’s fighting they were not very good, and the heavy losses sustained were attributable to that fact. The men improved them during the night, however, and they grew and grew until they were really like rabbits burrowing into the ground. During the shelling men would sit or lie down under the bank, and it was wonderful how the trenches protected them. Some of the trenches had hundreds of shells fired into them during the day, and as long as the men kept well down, they got off comparatively lightly. It was a fearful strain, however, as you might be crouching behind a traverse of sand-bags, when thump would come a shell and knock the sand-bags all over the place, upon which you would have to skip into the traverse and expose yourself while doing so to a hail of bullets from the Boer snipers. As the Boers were all round us, they brought guns to bear from different points, so as to enfilade the trenches, so we had to build transverse walls, sand-bags, or traverses to protect ourselves. The front Cape Mounted Rifles’ trenches were fearfully battered during the day, and the tired men had to patch them up as best they could during the night. During the day we could not show our heads over the parapets, as there would immediately come a volley from the Boer riflemen.”
All the troops had unceasing work, but most of the casualties fell to the share of those in the southern position—the Cape Mounted Rifles, Captain Garner’s Squadron of Brabant’s Horse, Captain Seel’s Company of Royal Scots Mounted Infantry, and Driscoll’s energetic scouts. The Kaffrarians, commanded by Captain Price elsewhere in four different positions to east and west—took their share of the defence, while on the heights north-east and north-west, the 1st and 2nd Regiments of Brabant’s Horse, under Major Henderson and Colonel Grenfell respectively, also worked incessantly to protect the garrison.
The object of the concentration of the Boers around this region was supposed to be connected with offering opposition to General Brabant’s advance, but the Dutchmen in their policy were somewhat uneasy, owing to their close proximity to the Basuto border.
Their alarm was not without reason, for if there was a force eager to attack them it was the Basutos, and these were only held back from rushing into the fray by the personal influence of Sir Godfrey Lagden and his British colleagues, who can never sufficiently be applauded for the skill and diplomacy with which they managed to keep, by invisible moral coercion, a fiery horde from rushing over the borders and possibly massacring such Free Staters as came in their way. The Boers, however, were not conscious of this coercion, and consequently their action around Wepener was somewhat cramped, and thus it was that the little community managed to defy them. Meanwhile discomforts were many, and the clouds often emptied themselves like a vast shower-bath involving doused trenches, drenched clothing, and the suspension of operations. On the 11th a cheery message was received from Lord Kitchener, who paid a visit to Aliwal North, and from thence sent word that he hoped “for an early change” in the circumstances of the besieged. Spirits rose. What Kitchener, the adamantine, said was sure to be done. On Thursday, 12th, the fourth day of fierce fighting, the Boers continued their aggression all day. During the contest an entertaining interlude in the drama of warfare took place. The enemy was busy shelling one of the garrison’s 15-pounders, when a shot knocked off the left sight of Captain Lukin’s gun. The Captain, generous in his admiration, jumped on top of the gun and made a complimentary salaam to the Boer gunner. Later on, by using the reserve sight on the right side, he himself planked a shell right into the adversary’s gunpit, whereupon the officer in charge, imitating Captain Lukin’s example, promptly leapt up and bowed his congratulations!
During the night of the 12th the Dutchmen attempted another attack, but volley after volley was poured into them with such animation that by 4A.M.they were glad enough to retire. Fortunately not a man was killed or wounded, and those who had so well defended themselves felt a somewhat natural satisfaction in seeing the Boer ambulances at work the next morning. Soon it was rumoured that the Boers were bringing up another gun, and the garrison, who were beginning to get tired of being peppered at by guns big and small, began to long for the arrival of reinforcements.
Friday the 13th, the following Saturday and Sunday, were used by the Boers for their Easter devotions—not that they were too devout to enjoy a little sniping in the intervals. Nasal hymns took the place of the snorts of Long Tom, but after the reiterations of the Vickers Maxim the Federals resumed their bombardment with renewed zest, and Oom Sam, the British howitzer, took up the tune. Unfortunately, the Dutchmen resorted to expansive bullets. One of the commandants tried to assert that these were captured from the British, but truth not being the Boer forte, no effort was made to refute the vile impeachment.
The garrison next made a dashing sortie and captured a Boer gun. Aggressive action was necessary. Reinforcements were daily reaching the besiegers, and hostile gangs were collecting in the vicinity of Dewetsdorp. These soon gathered round the plucky British force, which, to protect itself, launched out with such vigour that the Boers, especially the Zastrom Commando, who had assaulted to a jubilate, retreated to a dirge. The women wept, and the men themselves grew anxious, for the Basutos, warlike and excited, were massing on the border, and a sword of Damocles, in the form of an exasperated legion of natives, threatened to drop on the Dutchmen’s heads. They were getting into difficulties on all sides. One of Olivier’s guns was smashed, and another had been captured in the sortie by the Cape Mounted Rifles. But the energies of this sprightly corps had also cost them dear. During the four days’ fighting, from the 9th to the 13th, eighteen were slain and 132 wounded! The men on the south-western fringe fared worse even than the others. They feared to cook in their trenches lest they should attract the Boer fire, and meals brought from adjacent shelters were cold before they could reach them. Such reviving and inspiriting refreshment as hot tea or coffee was almost unknown, and as a natural consequence, particularly in such damp weather, warmth external and internal was most craved for and very generally missed. Washing was a luxury not to be thought of, indeed, a rain bath in a trench had to serve all purposes. The strain of such conditions on the men was most trying, and the account given by one of the officers was far from exaggerated. “They had to go into their trenches on the night of the 8th, and from then till the 25th they had to stay in them, crouching in them all day while being heavily shelled and ‘sniped’ at by the enemy’s riflemen. Duringthe night a couple of men from each trench would be sent to the place near the centre of the position where the food was prepared and take it up to their comrades. Cooking could only be done at night in dongas, and behind cover, such as walls, &c., and by the time the food got to the men it was ice cold, so the poor fellows, or the majority, in the forward trenches did not get anything hot in the shape of food or drink for eighteen days. Night was a blessed relief, as they could get out of the trenches and stretch themselves, but to cap our misery we had several days’ heavy rain, and the trenches got full of water. The fellows had to bale it out with buckets, patrol tins, and even hats, I believe. Those rainy nights were awful, and the men were getting quite ‘jumpy.’ I really thought some of them would lose their reason, and was quite prepared to find some dead from exposure in the morning. However, the rain stopped in time, otherwise we would have been in great danger as the men could not have stood it. There is a limit to human endurance.”
The investment had no showy nor picturesque characteristics: it was just a case of stern resistance, of obdurate endurance, that was infinitely more exigent in its demands on the human character than the brilliant soul-stirring deeds of open battle. Fortunately the Boers were getting correspondingly uncomfortable. They had surrounded Wepener, it is true, but, with a native guard of some 3000 strong assembled to prevent any encroachments on the Basutoland border, they remained where they were at their peril, and every hour brought with it the chance of being hemmed in on all sides. Yet they stuck on, inspired with the belief that by some, for them, lucky chance Colonel Dalgety might drop into their hands. Meanwhile the natives were assisting the besieged to the best of their power, and the resident Commissioner at Mafeteng was exerting himself to provide ambulances and medical stores, in hope of being able to forward them should opportunity offer. The charitable arrangement was much appreciated, for the state of affairs was far from salubrious. Apart from sick and wounded, many of the Boers, after the night attack of the 12th, had left their comrades unburied, and the bodies were still lying in the mill furrow, to the distress of those shut up within the narrow confines of the camp. The Caledon River now rose and added to the alarm of the Federals, who were aware that if it should become in flood they would undoubtedly be cut off. At the same time those within the besieged area were also beginning to get additionally concerned. Ammunition for the howitzer was running low, and the rifle ammunition promised to hold out but for a very limited period. Messages were continually being received from Lord Roberts, who heliographedviaMafeteng congratulatingthe troops on their brave defence, and assuring them that he was keeping a watchful eye on them. This should have been consoling, but every hour, every instant, was now of importance. Still there was no lack of pluck. These men who had beaten the Boers three times were confident that they would make a good fight of it to the last. “We’ll not surrender till half of us are killed,” they said, and the gallant fellows, in their trenches, under a storm of shot and shell, pursued their games of cards as though they meant to “sit tight till Doomsday.” Of them an officer writing at this time said: “The defence, so far, has been heroic. In the Crimea twenty-four hours on and twenty-four hours off was considered hard work. My men have been ten days in their trenches without leaving them, wet to the skin oftener than not, and day and night exposed to shrapnel, not able to raise their hand above without getting a bullet through them, and yet not a grumble is heard. As I sit scrawling this in pencil, with my back against the damp earth, the jest goes round, and peals of laughter follow the sallies of your light-hearted countrymen from the Emerald Isle. I positively love these men, and shall never forget, in spite of the ague attacks and the racked head, the enjoyment of these hours spent packed, all arms and legs, in the mass of humanity which fills these trenches—the work of our own hands.”
They had tasted neither bread nor biscuits for a week. Fortunately they had meat in plenty, and occasionally certain meal-cakes which, though filling, brought about a sensation graphically described as “hippopotamus on the chest.” Some one declared they were quite as hard and nearly as damaging as Boer bullets!
In spite, however, of their assumed jocosity they could not but be cognisant of the fact that, what with damp and dysentery, irregular meals, tainted water, poor medical appliances, and indifferent stores, the future was threatening. Questions as to the coming of the promised relief began to be anxiously bandied about, and now and again a terrible doubt crept in that it might never come at all.
Easter Monday they thought of as Bank Holiday in England. They pictured the gay Cockney multitude scampering free in parks and sunshine while they, huddled together in a deluge of perpetual rain, were wondering if life in trenches was worth living. Then some one, a philosopher, declared you couldn’t get a daily rain-water bath at home for love or money, and they laughingly made the best of it. They wallowed in damp and mud, and counted on their fingers that there had been eight days of hard fighting, and wondered how many more they were good for. Books were scarce and conversation monotonous. “Any signs of Brabant or Gatacre?” some one would question. “None. I guess they’ve got lost somewhere.” “Any chance of the rain stopping?” “None. We shall have deluges to-morrow.” So passed the time between Job and his comforters.
Fighting proceeded wearily, spasmodically. The Boers too were damp, in spirit and in body, and the carols of Long Tom lost some of their demoniac mirth. Now and then the besiegers would smarten themselves up with a volley, occasionally they would snipe intermittently—a little venomous spitting at the obdurate, sturdy, magnificent fellows they had learned as much to respect as to detest. Still no relief column. Hoping, the men in their trenches puzzled and offered solutions for themselves.
“Perhaps the relievers had fallen into a trap,” said a pessimist.
“Oh no; the rain must have delayed them,” said some one more cheery.
“Perhaps the drifts are unpassable,” volunteered a third.
“I wonder if any of us will be left to receive them?” questioned the pessimist.
“Poof! only ten per cent. of us are disabled as yet!” chaffed the optimist lightly.
Though they did not know it, General Chermside, with the Third Division, had now marched about eight miles east of Reddersburg, and encamped in the locality where the Royal Irish Rifles surrendered. On the 19th a large body of the enemy was moving on with the apparent object of encountering General Brabant near Rouxville, and later on from the distance the muffled roar of musketry gave promise of the relieving action. Naturally, the spirits of the garrison began to rise, but their joy was short lived, for soon the Boers appeared on the west, and there brought five guns to bear on the British force. All day the round lips of the new visitors opened and hooted and spat! The Kaffrarian Rifles were treated to no less than 130 shrapnel shells. Brabant’s regiment and the Maxim kept up an active fire on the Boer gunners; but the guns were so cautiously protected that their efforts were crowned with small success. Even the redoubtable Captain Lukin failed to make his usual impression, for this officer had now decided that economy—economy of ammunition—must make the better part of Wepener valour. Major Maxwell, at dusk, with his cheery sappers, set to work to remedy the ravages of the day, but the prospect of affairs was not rendered more heartening by information which came in to the effect that Olivier, De Wet, Froneman, and others were closing in with their commandoes and mercenaries, numbering some 8000, from Rouxville, Smithfield, Ficksburg, and even from Ladybrand. This discovery caused no little anxiety. All were aware that Lord Roberts could and would come to their relief; but, nevertheless, it was impossible to ignore the fact thatprovisions began to dwindle and the poor trek oxen began to go, and no signs of a relieving column were evident. The officers and men were now on duty all night in the trenches—melancholy work, for deluges of rain made them sopping, and served to damp even the bellicose ardour of the most valorous.