WANDERING
Our trek to Heilbron had borne good fruit, not only in that it had freed
us from the baneful influence which the surrender at Nauwpoort had
caused, but we had also learned to know each other better. The
heterogeneous elements of the laager became more and more homogeneous.
It seemed quite natural that there should be one man in command. At his
bidding we trekked, and at his command we halted. By degrees we became
used to discipline, a clear proof of which was the fact that no one
fired unnecessary shots, or set the veld on fire.
From Vecht Kop we trekked in a south-westerly direction. We pursued this
course the whole week till we got near Ventersburg, keeping about
eighteen miles away from the railway line. How endless these night
marches in the depth of winter seemed. The waggons that brought up the
rear seldom reached the camping-place before two or three o'clock in the
morning. The least delay in front affected each vehicle in the rear.
When a ford was reached a halt was called to see how things looked
there, and then the whole trek behind was kept waiting, and in this
manner from two to five minutes were always lost. The next waggon then
reached the ford, and the same thing was done over again. Again the
waggons behind had to wait, with a similar loss of time. When a waggon
got stuck the delay was even longer. Then, in addition, a fearful
commotion arose. There was dreadful shouting and yelling before the
Kaffirs could convince the oxen that they had to get the waggon out by
hook or by crook.
This slow progress was inexpressibly tedious, and we resorted to all
sorts of contrivances to beguile the time. I sometimes would ride on
ahead, and then with my horse's bridle over my arm would sit or lie down
on the grass till the last waggon had passed, when I would again ride on
and wait; or else I would walk leading my horse, in order to warm my
feet. In this manner the time passed till, to my delight, I saw lights
in the distance, which proved to me that a portion of the laager had
already reached the halting-place. When at last I arrived there, a piece
of meat was half-broiled on the coals and heartily relished. How it
looked, and how much of the ashes adhered to it, could not be seen in
the dark; but this made no difference, for the long trek in the cold
winter night had sharpened our appetites.
During this week we crossed Rhenoster River, and one morning at two
o'clock we arrived at Doornkloof. Later in the day I had the pleasure of
visiting the farm of that stalwart "voortrekker," Sarel Cellier. Thirty
years before I had as a boy met him there alive and well. It was a
pleasure to me now to be able to pass a short time there with his widow.
But it struck me painfully how troublesome the burghers were to the
women on the farms. The house was constantly so full that there was no
place for everyone to sit down. They were continually going and coming,
and asking for this and that. "Has Tante (Aunt) any dried fruit for
sale?" "Do bake for me; I will give you the flour." "Auntie can make
bread or vetkoek (dampers) of it, just as you think fit." "Can't Auntie
have my clothes washed?" When I heard this I said, "My dear man, do as I
do--wash your own clothes." And yet how could I blame others for being
troublesome when I had on one occasion got a loaf of bread from that
house myself? I feel, however, that I need not plead guilty, for I very
seldom went into the houses. Sometimes, as on this occasion, I went to
see acquaintances. At other times the occupants of the house had heard
that I was in the laager and invited me into the house. But as a rule I
did not go to farms.
When we were at Doornkloof the question persistently presented itself to
me: Where in the world _are_ we going to? for we did nothing but wander
from one place to another; so at least it seemed to me. I made a note in
my diary to the following effect: "Not with levity nor irreverently do I
call to mind the first words of the hymn--Whither, pilgrims, whither go
ye?" We turn to the north and then to the south and--
"You are running away!"
Very well, we _were_ running away, if you wish. What of that? Don't we
keep the war going in this way? The English imagine they have conquered
us. This is far from being the fact. They have occupied the towns, but
they are not in possession of the country. They have annexed the
Republic, but not the people. Their troops march out in overwhelming
numbers wherever they wish, east and west, from one town to another, and
we cannot prevent them, but we remain in the field nevertheless; we are
still free. We turn to the right and to the left, and our adversary is
not able with all his cannon to prevent it. In this way we keep the war
going, and increase the expenditure day by day. In this way we worry our
adversary; and thus we hope--the weak against the strong, like the widow
and the unjust judge in the parable--to force the stronger to yield to
our importunity. In the evening we trekked as usual; late at night we
crossed the bridge over the Valsch River.
On the following day a sad duty fell to my lot. A Kaffir had for the
rape of a white girl been condemned to death by the Council of War, and
I was called upon to prepare him for death. During all my professional
duties I had never had the spiritual charge of a man condemned to death.
Although he deserved his sentence, in my opinion more even than if he
had been guilty of murder, I could only regard him in this his last hour
as a fellow-man. All sense of condemnation was effaced, only pity
remained--pity for his total helplessness. Although he acknowledged that
he deserved death, he asked me if I could do nothing to obtain his
pardon; and when I told him there was no hope, he still kept urging me
to try and move the officers to inflict some other punishment. As a
mouse in the claws of a cat struggles in vain to get free and yet
continues struggling, so he, hoping against hope, struggled against the
inexorable.
Could he not be released? At length he resigned himself. I spoke to him
of Jesus and prayed with him. After a short time he was led away to his
grave, and standing in it he laid his hand on my shoulder and repeated
the words of a prayer after me. I hurried away from the spot, but before
I reached the laager a volley announced that all was over in this world
with that human being.
The following day was Sunday. We were not far from Ventersburg. Shortly
after divine service some burghers went out against a patrol of the
enemy, cornered them in a kraal and took twenty-four of them prisoners.
Amongst them were some officers and one person who claimed to be a
doctor. As, however, he was found armed, he was held prisoner along with
the rest. We had not yet commenced our evening trek, when I received
from someone a note written by the Rev. R. H. Daneel, informing me that
my wife had gone to Maritzburg to my parents.
This was a comfort to me, for I had always been uneasy about her. I
subsequently found that the English had turned her out of the parsonage
and put her over the border. On Monday evening after sunset we again
proceeded. It was a miserably long trek. A delay occurred at a ford, and
it was half-past three in the morning before we arrived at the outspan,
which the foremost waggons had reached at twelve o'clock. Before we
could lie down to rest it was already half-past four, and the morning
star was shining on the eastern horizon. A trek or two more brought us
to Doornberg, and Commandant Hasebroek went with a number of men to
Ventersburg. He found the town empty,--that is to say, there were no
troops there,--and he levied his usual tribute on the shopkeepers of
coffee, sugar, meal, and other provisions.