Now, if our heroine had been allowed to carry out her tour of inspection, she would have been out of "mischief's way" for many months, and much of what I am about to relate would not have taken place at all.
"Fair play is bonny play," and a breach of faith is bound, at some time or other, to be followed by undesirable consequences.
Hansie made up her mind to serve her country in another, perhaps better way, and in this she was assisted by the resistless hand of Fate, as we shall see in the following chapters.
That she was never "caught" is a marvel indeed, for she was most reckless of danger.
There were a number of intimate and trusted friends with whom she came into frequent contact, but who had no idea of the work which was being carried on at Harmony.
To these friends, however, she went with her "reliable war news" (more especially news brought into town by the spies, of the Boer victories) when anything of importance became known, and in time her friends found out that her news could always be depended upon as reliable indeed, although they had no inkling of the source whence it had been derived. There was danger of her becoming altogether too "cocksure," when she was one day pulled up sharply by the following occurrence:
Captain Naudé was in town again, was, if I remember rightly, under her very roof, when she visited a man for whom she entertained feelings of great affection and esteem, with the object of gladdening his heart with news of a particularly gratifying nature from the front.
He listened attentively, he asked a number of questions, nodding with the greatest satisfaction at her direct and definite replies.
"I must go," Hansie exclaimed suddenly, "I only came in for a few moments. We have to see some friends off to-night."
"Ah! Just wait a minute, please, will you?"
He hastened from the room, returning shortly with a parcel which he placed in her hands without a word.
"What is this?" she asked curiously.
"Five pounds of the best Boer tobacco."
"For me?" in amazement.
He approached her and whispered in her ear:
"For the spy!"
Hansie fled from that house, laughing as she went, and patting her parcel of tobacco rapturously.
"Oh, mother, wasn't it funny of him?"
"Yes, but when will you learn to be more careful? Hansie, you are frightfully reckless. You will not listen to reason, I suppose, until we find ourselves across the border and Harmony confiscated!"
The Captain was delighted with the present and willingly added the extra five pounds weight to his cumbrous and heavy burdens.
Somebody, leaving the country for Holland, offered to take documents and letters from the van Warmelos to the President on condition that they could guarantee that he would not be "found out."
This offer came at a most opportune moment, for there was information of the greatest importance to be sent to Mr. W.T. Stead.
For some weeks past Mrs. van Warmelo had been anxious to smuggle through to him copies of the two petitions to the Consuls and a copy of their report on the Concentration Camps. For this the White Envelope was not considered satisfactory enough—the documents were too bulky and the post during those days not to be depended upon.
The information, therefore, was written on tissue paper (the usual method) and packed in a small bottle of Dr. Williams's Pink Pills, to be handed to a relative of Mrs. van Warmelo's in Holland, with instructions that he should read the contents and forward them without delay to Mr. Stead for publication in theReview of Reviews.
The "medicine" was faithfully delivered in Holland, but alas! the recipient, with unheard-of presumption, after having read the documents, decided in his ownmind that they were not of sufficient importance to be published in London and quietly kept them to himself!
Kept them to himself, at a time when their publication to the world would have been of inestimable value to the Boers and would perhaps have saved thousands of lives!
Of course this breach of trust was not known at Harmony for many months—not, in fact, until so long after it took place that the war was drawing to a close, and it was too late to repeat the attempt.
When one thinks that but for one man's indifference to duty the report of the Consuls would have been published in London at a time when all England was shaken with the revelations made by Miss Hobhouse and the agitation of the pro-Boers was at its height, then one cannot help realising the futility of fighting against Fate.
Not yet had the time of salvation arrived for the victims of the Concentration Camps—not yet—not until the toll of life had been paid to the uttermost.
Other schemes for supplying that section of the British public, desirous of being acquainted withthe truth, with trustworthy information from South Africa, met with greater success, and I relate the following instance for the sake of the interesting circumstances connected with it, not for its own sake, for obvious reasons.
Many of my readers will remember the case of Mr. Spoelstra, a Hollander, which caused such a commotion in the Transvaal during the war.
He wrote a long letter for publication in Holland on the hardships and ill-treatment to which the Boerwomen were subjected in transit from their farms to the Concentration Camps, by the soldiers (chiefly, I may mention here, the Canadian Scouts and Australian Bushrangers, who were, however, all regarded as British soldiers, these distinctions not being sufficiently clear to the average South African).
This lengthy document Spoelstra confided to the care of a man who was about to leave for Holland.
On the borders of Natal, the man, on being cross-questioned by the inspector of goods, became so confused and agitated that he brought suspicion on himself, with the result that he was detained while his luggage was thoroughly overhauled.
The unfortunate letter was found, Spoelstra was arrested and immediately imprisoned in the Pretoria Jail.
The Dutch Consul, Mr. Domela Nieuwenhuis, on being appealed to, insisted on a public trial, which was granted after some delay, Spoelstra being allowed three days in which to procure his witnesses,in Pretoriaand in the small Camp in one of the suburbs,notin Irene.
Notwithstanding the shortness of the time and the restrictions placed upon him, he succeeded in getting nearly thirty women to give evidence on his behalf, and at his trial, which was publicly held, revelations of a very startling nature were made.
The greatest indignation was felt and freely expressed by the Dutch community when, in spite of having proved his accusations beyond a doubt, Spoelstra was fined £100 and sentenced to one year's imprisonment.
The fine was immediately paid by his friends.
Now, there was a brave Englishwoman, Mrs. Bodde, married to a Hollander, who was shortly leaving for England, who offered her services to Mrs. van Warmelo if the latter wished to make the circumstances of the case known to Mr. Stead. This was an exceedingly plucky thing to do, for the examinations on the frontier were much more severe than usual, after the discovery of Spoelstra's letter. Mrs. van Warmelo therefore promised to take extra precautions in concealing the articles she wished to send. After a great deal of trouble she succeeded in getting a full report of the Spoelstra trial, sixty large pages of closely typed evidence on tissue paper, and with this valuable material to dispose of Mrs. van Warmelo realised that it would be necessary to exert the utmost ingenuity.
She asked her friend Mrs. Bodde whether she would be taking a lunch-basket.
Certainly she would.
"Well," Mrs. van Warmelo said, "I will give you something for your lunch-basket, if you will promise not to open it until you get to London."
She promised, and Mrs. van Warmelo bought a tin of cocoa, a one-pound tin, unfastened the paper wrapper carefully, then damped the paper round the lid until it could be folded back without being damaged, removed the lid and pulled out the paper bag containing the cocoa. This bag she unfastenedat the bottom, shook out fully two-thirds of the cocoa and filled up the empty space with the tightly rolled packet containing the documents, replacing the whole in the tin, cocoa side up, of course, and pasting down the paper wrapper over the lid to make it look like new.
Although there was very little cocoa in the tin, it was found to weigh exactly one pound as before.
Arrangements were then made with Mrs. Bodde for her future correspondence on the subject with Mrs. van Warmelo, and in due time the latter received a note from Mrs. Bodde announcing her safe arrival in London and saying that her friend Mrs. Brown (Mr. Stead) had received her (the documents) with open arms. She was not going to live in Mrs. Brown's house as she had intended (the documents would not be published in theReview of Reviews), but she was going into a house of her own (they would appear in pamphlet form).
This was good news indeed, and now my readers know how it came about that the sensational Spoelstra case was published in London in pamphlet form (in three successive pamphlets, for the evidence was found to be too bulky for one) during the war. The first pamphlet reached Harmony in safety through the post, the second and third, though duly dispatched, failed to reach their destination, but nobody at Harmony minded. The great object had been achieved.
Hansie, going to the post one day, took out of her letter-box a small flat book, addressed to "Mrs. Wentworth, Box 56."
She was about to throw it back into the Post Office, with "not56" scribbled on it, when her eyes fell on the English postmark, Tunbridge Wells, and she stayed her hand in time.
Tunbridge Wells was the address of the brave Englishwoman, the great pro-Boer, and the package when opened was found to contain a copy of Methuen'sPeace or War in South Africa, which was first "devoured" at Harmony and by other people in Pretoria and was then sent out to the commandos by the spies, to be read and reread by the burghers until there was nothing left of it except a few tattered pages.
Soon after the publication of the Spoelstra case there was some excitement in Pretoria about the appearance in theWestminster Gazetteof a long article on the Irene Concentration Camp. The writer, who gave each detail with great accuracy, seemed to have personal knowledge and experience of the Camp, and it was not surprising that Hansie should have been taxed with it on every side.
The Consuls spoke to her direct, advising her to be more careful of her facts, and Mr. Cinatti, when she assured him of her innocence (?), said with huge delight, in his funny, broken English:
"Never mind, my dear little sing, you need not confess tous—but are you good at guessing riddles?"
"Not particularly."
"Well, dis one won't trouble you much. What is dis? It is small and oblong and white, and it was laid by a hen?"
"An egg," Hansie answered innocently.
He shouted with laughter.
"Are you sure?"
"Of course."
"Well, we are just as sure dat Miss van Warmelo wrote dat article. And if you want to see your work in print I'll bring it round dis very afternoon."
"I should like very much to see it," she replied.
That afternoon, just before Mr. Cinatti was expected, Gentleman Jim killed a big snake in his room,and Hansie, thinking to give her funny friend a fright for misdoubting her word, "arranged" the corpse on the steps of the front verandah, hiding the mutilated head under the leaves of the violet plants.
But the Consul came late, and other visitors before him heralded their arrival by shrieks and jumps, to the great delight of the mischievous girl.
"You are a very pranky little sing," Mr. Cinatti said, flourishing theWestminster Gazettebefore her eyes, "and den you want us not to believe dat you wrote dis."
And indeed, when Hansie glanced through the article, she found it difficult to maintain that she had not written it, for there were all her "pet" cases of overcrowding and underfeeding, her statistics, and the very terms she was in the habit of using when speaking of the volunteer nurses. She called them a "set of agitators," in sarcastic imitation of the Commandant's favourite expression.
The only explanation to the affair could be that Mr. Stead, or perhaps Mrs. Bodde, had made use of the facts contained in one of Hansie's smuggled letters, and in that case she could naturally be held responsible. She was advised by loving friends to keep her boxes ready packed for a speedy departure, "for when the warning comes you will not be allowed much time to pack."
But she disregarded all warnings, except to take extra precautions for the safety of her diary.
GENTLEMAN JIM'S ROOM.GENTLEMAN JIM'S ROOM.ToList
GENTLEMAN JIM'S ROOM.ToList
It would be a simple matter for me to fill this volume many times by relating the thrilling experiences and adventures of people unknown to me personally and yet known sufficiently by intimate friends who guarantee their truth and veracity, but this is not my intention in writing this book.
A brief outline, however, of the history of one of the principal members of the Secret Committee, during the war, will not be out of place here, because of his close connection with the "Petticoat Commando."
Mr. C.P. Hattingh, head keeper of the Government Buildings under the South African Republic and deacon of the Dutch Reformed Church under the Reverend Mr. Bosman, played the part of an honourable and staunch burgher throughout the war, and rendered countless services to destitute women and children, in addition to his strenuous labours on the Secret Service.
On the morning of June 5th, 1900, when it became evident beyond doubt that the British would enter Pretoria that day, he removed the Transvaal flag from Government Buildings and took it to his house for safe keeping.
To his surprise he was not asked at any time bythe military what had become of the Government flag, and he was able to keep it in safety until his position on the Committee became precarious and made it dangerous for him to preserve this precious relic of the past at his own house any longer.
He therefore secretly conveyed it to the house of a friend, Mr. Isaac Haarhoff, whose wife carefully concealed it until the war was over, and then handed it to him again. He gave it to General Botha, who presented it to the Pretoria Museum, where it is now preserved and exhibited as a priceless national memento.
Mr. Hattingh took the oath of neutrality with the other burghers in Pretoria and maintained his post in the Government Buildings for one month after the occupation of the capital. He was then asked either to take the oath of allegiance or resign from his post.
He chose the latter alternative, although he had a wife and family to support and knew not how, in time of war, he would find the means to do so.
After some deliberation he decided to begin a private bakery in a small building behind his house, and then began what proved to be a desperate struggle for existence.
With Boer meal at £8 per bag and flour at £5 per hundred pounds, the unfortunate man tried to make a small profit on the tiny sixpenny loaves. There was no question of engaging hired help, and he was obliged to work almost day and night in order to make the business pay. Sometimes he had neither sleep nor rest for thirty hours at a stretch except while partaking of his frugal fare. When flour became even more scarce he had to augment his supply by mixingit with mealie meal, ground sweet-potatoes, and barley, until, in fact, only sufficient flour was used to keep the loaves from falling to pieces.
By hard work he was not only able to pay his way, but assisted relatives and friends in a similar predicament.
As one of the deacons of the church, he came into constant touch with the wives and families of fighting burghers, brought into town from their devastated homes, and it was a common sight to see a row of these unfortunates standing in his back-yard, holding dishes and buckets containing their rations of meal and flour, which they implored him to take in exchange for his ready-baked loaves, because there was a dearth of fuel.
Although their rations consisted of what had perhaps once been flour, but was now a black and lumpy composition, evil-smelling and swarming with vermin, the good man never disappointed his petitioners.
His fame as a philanthropist spread, and the rows of women in his back-yard increased. While engaged in serving them he listened to their tales of hardship and privation, watched their suffering faces, made mental notes of the harrowing details of each case.
There was an epidemic of "black measles" going through the town at the time in the overcrowded quarters of the "Boer refugees," as they were called. Scarcely a mother appealed to him who had not lost one or more children, in many cases all she possessed, within a few weeks.
Now, Mr. Hattingh would no doubt have concerned himself with the peaceful occupation of his bakeryuntil the end of the war (for he had his hands more than full), had his compassionate heart not been wrung beyond endurance by the scenes he was forced to witness every day. His conscience smote him and he reproached himself with being in town when duty should have called him to the side of his fellow-countrymen, struggling against such fearful odds in their efforts to preserve their independence.
Bitterness filled his soul.
What religious and conscientious scruples he still had against violating his oath of neutrality he laid before his most trusted friends, to be met with the same answer everywhere, "The oath of neutrality is null and void, a mere formality," as the enemy had declared in connection with the recruiting of National Scouts from the ranks of the Transvaal burghers.
At this critical moment it was not to be wondered at that he should have accepted Captain Naudé's appointment of him on the Secret Committee, not only without hesitation, but in a spirit of intense satisfaction.
Henceforth the mind of the baker dwelt with ceaseless activity on the problems of the Boer espionage, while his busy fingers plied the brown and white loaves of bread.
Inspired by patriotism, driven by love and compassion, he became in time the most resourceful, the most ingenious, and the most trusted of Boer spies.
One evening, soon after dusk, while he was engaged in his bakery, he heard a timid knock at the door, which he opened, fully expecting to see a customer.
To his surprise he found there a Boer with a long,unkempt beard—a "backvelder," or, as we call it, a "takhaar," of the most pronounced type.
The man withdrew into the shadows as the door opened, and with great apparent timidity showed as little of himself as possible.
Mr. Hattingh asked him to come in, and he ventured forward with shrinking hesitation.
"What can I do for you?" Mr. Hattingh asked.
"Take me in," the man answered breathlessly. "Harbour me. I am a Boer spy, straight from the commandos."
Mr. Hattingh betrayed the greatest amazement, as if he had never heard of the possibility of such a thing.
"A Boer spy!" he exclaimed. "How did you come in?"
The man described the route he had taken, and in an instant Mr. Hattingh, with his intimate knowledge of the actual route employed by Boers, realised that the man before him was not from the field at all, but a National Scout, employed by the British to betray the loyal Boers—a "trap," in fact, such as were in constant use against their brother burghers.
Mr. Hattingh asked him a few more leading questions to satisfy himself of the true nature of the man's errand, and then, as if suddenly recalled to himself, broke out in evident agitation:
"But I cannot harbour you, my good fellow. I amneutral."
"Surely you would not have the heart to see me fall into the hands of the enemy!" the man exclaimed.
"I am very sorry," Mr. Hattingh replied, "but I dare not take you in."
"Tell me some news, then," he implored. "Ourmen are getting hopeless and desperate, and when we bring them news from town it gives them new courage to continue the war."
"I know of no news to tell you. I amneutral," Mr. Hattingh answered firmly, and the man left him with his mission unaccomplished.
Unseen himself, Mr. Hattingh watched him depart, and saw him getting into a cab, which was evidently waiting for him in the neighbourhood, and drive rapidly away.
Mr. Hattingh immediately went to his neighbour, Mr. Isaac Haarhoff, and told him what had happened.
"What do you think I ought to do? I am under suspicion without a doubt."
"Report the matter to the authorities at once," Mr. Haarhoff answered, and our friend accepted the advice with alacrity.
He mounted his bicycle and rode with all speed to the nearest Charge Office, reporting that a Boer spy had been to his house for refuge that evening.
"Why did you not bring him with you?" the officer inquired.
"I did not know what to do," Mr. Hattingh began, when another official made his appearance and asked what the matter was.
The first related what had occurred, and Mr. Hattingh, keenly watching the two men, saw the significant glances they exchanged, and caught the whispered:
"It is all right."
"No, old man," he thought, "it is all wrong, and you have been my dupe."
The men then turned to him, telling him that ifhe were visited by a spy again he was to take him in and report him at the Charge Office.
"Right," he replied. "I will do so." And on his homeward way he congratulated himself with the thought that he had no doubt been entered on the lists as a "faithful British subject."
This incident was followed, as far as he was concerned, by far-reaching consequences. Not only was he left with his family in the undisturbed security of his home-life after that, but he was able to carry on his work on the Committee in perfect safety, and when eventually the darkness closed over him in his prisoner's cell, he felt assured that this would count in favour of his wife and family.
Many were the men led by him through the streets of Pretoria to the spot where the burghers awaited them, countless and valuable the services rendered to the Boer commandos, innumerable the acts of kindness and charity performed by this brave burgher of Transvaal.
Mr. Colin Logan, who gave up an excellent position in the bank, was one of the men escorted out by him in order to join the Boer forces.
Riding slowly on his bicycle, with Mr. Logan walking beside him, they passed through a group of military tents, almost touching the soldiers as they sat around their camp-fires.
Not a shadow of suspicion could be roused by their calm behaviour, and they reached the burghers without any difficulty.
While they were exchanging a few words of greeting, the sudden, furious barking of the dogs at the Lunatic Asylum, not far from them, warned them of danger,and, taking a hasty leave, the burghers disappeared noiselessly into the darkness, and Mr. Hattingh literally tore home across the veld on his bicycle, clearing holes and jumping over stones in his mad career. He was able to reach his home just in time to be under shelter when the "curfew" rang 10 o'clock, the hour at which all respectable citizens, carrying residential passes, were supposed to be indoors.
What eventually became of Mr. Hattingh and the other members of the Committee we shall see as our story proceeds.
The documents sent out to General Botha, and referred to in Chapter XV, were connected with the report of the Consuls, but the very first thing sent to the commandos by Mrs. van Warmelo was a copy of the first petition, tightly packed in a walnut, one of a handful which she gave the spy, with instructions not to eat any of them on the road.
He also took a verbal message to the effect that though the condition of the Camps was bad, everything was being done in town to bring about the necessary improvements. Influential people were at work to make everything public in Europe, and the men in the field were urged to be brave and steadfast and of good cheer.
On July 29th Harmony was visited again by Mr. Willem Botha, bringing with him information of a disquieting nature.
In some mysterious way he had received a piece of paper from Mr. Gordon Fraser, brother-in-law to President Steyn, and prisoner of war in the Rest Camp in Pretoria, on which, in a disguised hand, was written a message imploring the Secret Service men to warn President Steyn and General de Wet that a certain man amongst them, a prominent official,was a traitor in their midst, paid by the enemy to betray their plans before they could be carried out.
This information made the conspirators very anxious, for it being full moon, there was no prospect of spies coming into town, and in the meantime incalculable mischief could be done. Neither was it possible to send any one out who had not been before and was ignorant of the route. The matter had therefore to be left until the next suitable opportunity came and Mr. Botha went home with a heavy heart.
Unlike his usual prudent self, Mr. Botha did not immediately destroy the slip of paper on which the warning was written, but folded it carefully and placed it between the tattered leaves of an old hymn-book.
How he paid for this small indiscretion, the only one of which he was guilty, with days of anxiety and despair, and very nearly with his life, we shall see as our story develops!
In the early days of August the troops encamped around Harmony could, if they had used their sixth sense, have divined an air of suppressed excitement about the place.
Expectation of some sort evidently charged the atmosphere. Visitors were, in fact, expected, for Captain Naudé and his secretary had arranged to come in for the report of the Consul, just before the new moon made its appearance, and now a faint crescent of silver in the heavens warned our heroines that their time was at hand.
Harmony had been chosen as a place of refuge, as the safest spot in all Pretoria, with so many troops around it!
For several nights in succession a fire was kept going in the kitchen until a late hour, and a plentiful supply of hot water kept in readiness for the warm baths which the visitors would so sorely need after their difficult and perilous journey.
Still they did not come, but on the morning of August 4th Mr. Botha paid an early visit, bringing with him the news that on the previous night five spies had reached the town in safety.
He did not tell where they were being harboured, it being one of the laws of the Secret Committee that names were not to be used needlessly, and that the people working for the Committee were not even to know about one another.
So rigorously was this law enforced that from beginning to end the van Warmelos had dealings with Mr. Botha only, and did not see the four other members of the Committee, nor even hear their names until——
The five spies had not come in as easily as usual. They had persistently been followed by the searchlights as they neared the town, but they were able to get through the barbed-wire enclosure in safety and had then separated and gone to their various homes, unobserved as they thought.
But one of them, a young man whom we shall call Harry, who was destined to play such a terrible part in the history of the Boer Secret Service, was followed home by three detectives, two of whom stationed themselves at the front door and the third at the back.
Fortunately when Harry became aware of his danger, he rushed out at the back.
The detective, whose name was Moodie, shouted, "Hands up, or I fire," but the young man drew hisrevolver with lightning-like rapidity and, firing twice, escaped from town under cover of the darkness.
The reported death of the detective caused a great sensation in the town next day, and it was not until many months after that we learned of the fate of the unfortunate man, not death, but mutilation worse than death—a ghastly wound below the heart and an amputated leg.
This event caused the British to enforce a stricter vigilance, and many houses were searched for the other spies, but without success.
The excitement in town did not abate for some time, and wherever Hansie went she was told what had taken place by people who would have been surprised indeed to hear that she was in possession of all the details, and even of documents brought in from General Kemp by those very spies.
The instructions were to see that the information contained in those documents reached the Consuls without their knowing how and when they had been brought into town, and for this purpose several copies had been typed and were slipped under the doors of the different Consulates while the inmates were asleep.
Any day between August 5th and 10th Captain Naudé said he would come, and each evening found Harmony prepared to receive him, but on the 9th Mr. Botha brought a note from the gallant Captain saying that he would be unable to partake of Mrs. van Warmelo's hospitality that month. A woman, whose name was unknown, had conveyed this letter to the Secret Committee. It contained no particular news except that August 8th had been celebrated as a day of thanksgiving for our victories, and the9th, the very day on which the intimation was received in town, would be a day of humiliation for our many sins.
When this became known to the "inner circle," private prayer-meetings were immediately held in different houses in the town, while the men in the field held their day of humiliation under the open sky. In this way we worked together and supported one another spiritually, morally, and practically, in spite of searchlights and barbed-wire fences.
This was the first news received of the Captain's safe return to the commandos after that eventful visit in July, and his friends were thankful to receive it. Another source of thankfulness was the fact that he was not coming in that month, for the enemy was on thequi vivefor more spies, and consequently the dangers were multiplying for the Boers. The reckless coming in and going out of irresponsible men became a source of real danger to the people who harboured them, and on August 12th Mr. Botha came again to warn Mrs. van Warmelo against having dealings with any spies except those sent by the Secret Committee.
"You will only find yourselves in jail or over the border," he said, "which would not be so bad if that were all, but it would ruin our chances of assisting the Generals."
He then reported that a young spy had come in on Saturday night and that he had been taken to Mrs. General Joubert's house the next morning while she was in church. The good lady was anything but pleased, on her return home, to find him there, for she had a houseful of people, and she was obliged to stow him into a tiny room, where he sat as still as amouse, until he went back to commando. Not very cheerful for him, but a good lesson for the future!
Five or six men who tried to escape from town were captured near the Magaliesbergen and placed in the Rest Camp, so Dame Rumour said at the time, but the truth of the story, briefly related, ran thus:
I have mentioned the nest of the spies in the Skurvebergen not far from Pretoria in the western direction.
This "nest" had been surprised and taken possession of by the English while five of the spies were in Pretoria, and they, cut off from their own people as they were, were unable to escape.
One or two attempts were made, but the men were fired on and they had to abandon the idea for the present.
The curious part of this story is that these men (one can hardly call them spies) were Pretoria men who had escaped to the Skurvebergen for the first time only three weeks previously, and had gone backwards and forwards several times with small necessaries. One of the five, a man whose name I cannot mention here, for the sake of what is to follow, had been so often, and was so much at home both in Pretoria and the Skurvebergen, that his dearest friends did not know to which part of the country he really belonged!
Well, he was in a nice predicament now!
The house in which he was being harboured, with one of his friends, was unfortunately suspect. He could not remain there, neither could he escape from town.
Some one came to Harmony in great distress. What was to be done with those two men? To what place of refuge could they be moved that night? The visitor looked imploringly at Mrs. van Warmelo as if he expected her to offer Harmony, but she, mindful of Mr. Botha's warning, did nothing of the kind.
"Death is staring them in the face," the visitor continued. "I don't know what to do!"
Hansie, who knew the visitor well and trusted him implicitly, then pleaded with her mother—to no avail, Mrs. van Warmelo remaining firmly obdurate, and saying distinctly, for the edification of her visitor, "I have never harboured a spy, and I hope I never shall."
When the good man had departed, in sore disappointment, Hansie grumbled a good deal and said it was all very fine to assist these Secret Service men when there was no danger in doing so, but her mother took no notice of her for the rest of the day, and subsequent events proved that she had acted wisely in refusing to harbour men unknown to her.
What became of them at the time she did not know, and a few weeks elapsed before the crushing sequel to this escapade became known.
"Was there no fear of betrayal through the servants at Harmony?" I have often been asked since the war, and this reminds me that a short introduction to the other inmates of the property will be necessary for the reader's benefit and understanding.
The lower portion of Harmony, through which the Aapies river runs, was occupied by Italian gardeners, who employed a varying number of Kaffir labourers in the extensive fruit and vegetable gardens.
The upper part, on which the house stood, was entirely under Mrs. van Warmelo's management. No white servants were kept, the domestic staff consisting of native gardeners, a stable-boy, and a house-boy, neither was there a single female domestic, either white or black, on the place.
One day a small white son of the soil presented himself and asked for work.
Mrs. van Warmelo looked him up and down and said she did not farm with children.
"What is your name?" Hansie asked.
There was no answer, and then she noticed that the little stranger was staring straight in front of him, while two great tears rolled slowly down his cheeks.
This touched her, and she repeated her question persuasively.
"Flippie," he answered brokenly.
"Where is your mother?"
"Dead."
"And your father?"
"Fighting, with five sons."
Then Hansie felt inclined to take him in her arms and kiss him for his dead mother and brave father and brothers.
She turned to her mother and whispered:
"Let Flippie stay. Make some agreement with him and let us try him as errand-boy or general help in the house and garden."
Mrs. van Warmelo nodded and turned again to him. The conversation which passed between them is not recorded in Hansie's diary, but Flippie stayed, and within a week the Harmonites wondered how they had managed to exist without him for so long.
He was as sharp as a needle, and, though only thirteen years of age, he proved to be a perfect "man" of business, rising early every day to go to the morning market and gardening with surprising energy and ambition.
This pleased Mrs. van Warmelo so much that she gave him a plot of ground to cultivate for himself, and he immediately set to work to plant vegetables, spending every spare moment of the day inhisgarden.
When Hansie laughingly said that she hoped to be his first customer, he protested vehemently against the idea of selling anything to her, and time showed that he meant to keep his word.
All he had was given away with large-heartedgenerosity and when he had nothing more to give, hetookall he required from other people!
Yes, I am afraid Flippie's ideas of honesty were curious in the extreme. He had no idea of "mine and thine," as we say in Dutch.[2]
Arguments were of no avail, for Flippie was the scornfullest little boy I ever came across and knew everything better than his superiors.
Hansie set to work to study him, but found it necessary to reconstruct her ideas of him every day. Flippie baffled her at every turn.
One day she thought he would turn out to be a genius, the next she declared positively that he would come to the gallows, and the third she wondered helplessly whether he could by any chance do both.
Flippie could lie and deceive with the most angelic face and could melt into tears on the least provocation or whenever it suited his book to do so.
A phrenologist would have delighted in the study of that remarkable head.
The forehead receded and went on receding until there was nothing left of it but a great lump at the back of the head, and the little nose tilted up at one in the most impertinent manner, which was given the lie to by the drooping corners of the sensitive mouth. What delighted one most was the sunny temperament, the ringing, infectious laugh, the cheery whistle.
Surely Flippie was the merriest and one of the most lovable little souls one could find anywhere, and his ruling virtue always seemed to be his unswerving loyalty and constant fidelity.
His heart seemed to be torn between his sense of duty to the fearful and wonderful old grandmother, who had taken the place of his dead mother in what bringing-up he ever had, and his sense of gratitude to his protectors at Harmony.
My story would not be complete without a short sketch of this grandmother, for she played a part of some importance in the events recorded here, and was at all times a sore trial to the inmates of Harmony.
We have no proof, but wethinkthat Flippie's grandmother had a hand in the undoing of the security and peace which reigned supreme at Harmony before she came upon the scene.
Not that she ever lived on the property; no, her home was a small tent, one of a number which had been erected some little distance to the south of Harmony on Avondale, on the property of Mr. Christian Joubert, on the way to the "Fountains."
These tents were largely occupied by "handsuppers" and their families, amongst whom were found a few Judas-Boers—Boers of the most dangerous type. That the life of the loyal Boers in their midst was anything but a bed of roses can very well be imagined, and we know that bitterness and strife reigned supreme, for it was an open secret that renegades, hirelings of the enemy, held their dreaded sway over the inmates of that small colony.
Flippie and his grandmother did not belong to that degraded set, but the one was a thoughtless child and the other an exceedingly suspicious and inquisitive old woman, and that they were both used as unsuspecting tools by their more designing fellows I have not a shadow of doubt.
Mrs. van Warmelo and Hansie soon gave the old granny the name of "Um-Ah," for her tongue had been paralysed by a "stroke" twenty years back, and "Um-Ah," was all she was ever heard to say. It stood for yes and no and for every imaginable question, being only varied by the tone of voice in which it was said. Sometimes, when she became excited or impatient, it was fired off four or five times in quick succession.
This formidable old dame ruled Flippie with a rod of iron, appropriating the whole of his small salary every month and refusing to give him so much as a sixpence. When Mrs. van Warmelo found this out she stealthily added half a crown to his earnings for his own use, and this the generous lad regularly spent on sweets, cakes, and gingerbeer for his granny!
Even the chocolates and other good things to which kind-hearted soldiers treated him were laid as "trophies of the war" at his granny's feet, after he had vainly tried to induce Hansie to partake of them.
"Um-Ah" had an inconvenient way of dropping in at Harmony at all hours of the day, ostensibly to see if Flippie was doing his work well, but in reality to keep a watchful eye on the other inmates. She seemed to be always looking for something, and the time was soon to come when this unpleasant propensity should become a source of real danger to the van Warmelos.