ON THE WIDE PLAINS
Yes, I did enjoy it! To spend twenty-four hours in a house, for since
the 2nd of August I had never slept under a roof. What luxury!--a soft
bed and a bath in the morning. But how numerous are the demands of
civilisation! I had of course to breakfast with the family, and there
the table was laid with snowy linen and neatly folded serviettes.
Ah me! How did I behave after having had to manage with my clasp-knife
on the grass for so long? Still, it charmed me. The old instinct again
awoke. A fork was better after all than one's fingers, and sitting on a
chair in the study than on an anthill in the veld. The transformation
took place with lightning rapidity. I was myself again. This was my
world. Out yonder I was a stranger, but here I was at home; and it was
like being rent from a part of myself when at three o'clock I once more
joined the commando.
We proceeded between the kopjes that surround Vredefort on the
north-west. There beautiful scenery and the scent of the thorn-tree
blossoms repaid me in some measure for the comforts I had to relinquish
beneath the roof of the Rev. J. A. Joubert. But when at evening the
hills and thorn-trees lay behind us on the horizon, and we had to lie
down to rest by a dam on particularly large tufts of grass, I could
well realise that something indeed had been sacrificed for the great
cause of liberty and independence.
Here on the following morning General de Wet called the burghers
together and read to them a notice which he had issued for the
information of the enemy. This notice was to the effect that where
troops were caught in the act of burning houses, and carrying off
defenceless women and children, those troops would be shot.
He then asked me to address the men, as it was that day just a year
since they had been commandeered. I complied, and took as my text the
words: "If I forget thee, O Jerusalem, let my right hand forget her
cunning"; and presented the Israelite in his fervent patriotism as an
example to them.
General de Wet immediately after left us with the commandos of Heilbron
and Vrede, and we trekked away under General Botha in the direction of
the Rhenoster River. Before nightfall we reached it, and found there a
part of the Bethlehem Commando that had just returned from the bush
veld, whither they had accompanied General de Wet. These burghers joined
us, and we trekked along together, until, shortly after, they left us
and proceeded to their own district. How delightful it was there in the
densely wooded banks of the Rhenoster River. Great wild willows and old
thorn-trees grew along the placid stream, and lent an inexpressible air
of peace and rest to the place.
We stayed here for the night, lit great fires of the dry wood, and
broiled meat as it can only be done on the live coals of thorn-tree
wood. On the following day we departed from this beautiful spot, and
soon the wide sand plains stretched around us, dreary in their monotony.
It is a wearisome thing travelling on these wilds. You see nothing but
long, low, rolling undulations. In the distance there arises one like
an immovable wave in an immovable sea. After an hour's ride--for a
commando does not move rapidly--you have reached it, and then in the
distance there is another exactly like the one behind you.
And yet, however much the wearied spirit seeks some change, and however
dreary these wastes seem, they speak to the heart of him who understands
their language. Abandoning oneself to their mysterious influence, one
forgets that they are monotonous, as they whisper, softly as the evening
breeze which wafts across their broad bosoms, of the Infinite. The
mountains fill one with awe and veneration--even so the region where the
horizon seems ever to be beyond one's reach.
On Friday, 5th of October, we were on the banks of the Valsch River and
camped there. Some days after we trekked to the farm of Mr. B. Greyling.
From there the commando went to the shop of Mr. Harvey at Otterspruit,
but as it looked like rain, I accepted the kind invitation of Mr.
Greyling, and remained under his roof for the night. We stopped at
Harvey's shop on Sunday and Monday, and a few burghers were punished
there because they had entered the shop and helped themselves to what
they thought they wanted. We had a man in command who allowed no
irregularities, and the discipline in the commando was perfect. Here I
washed my clothes myself, as I had to do often later on. As I had no
change, I had to remain at the spruit until what I had washed had got
dry. I thought of the future with misgivings. "What should we eat, and
what should we drink?" did not trouble me; but "wherewithal should we be
clothed?" that filled me with uneasiness. We had, as we were marching
along, heard occasionally that everywhere in the State the civil
administration of the English had ceased. The patrols of two or three
mounted police did not visit the farms any more. Nor were any taxes
collected any more from the Boers on their farms or the Kaffirs in their
kraals. Since the time about the taking of Ladybrand, it had begun to be
impossible for small numbers of the English to go from farm to farm, and
to carry out the kind of government which obtains when there is peace in
a country. If they wanted now to go from district to district they could
not do so otherwise than in numbers of about 1000 men, and always with
cannon. This was a new proof to us that it was impossible for England to
fight us on an equal footing. We were far from being conquered.
It soon became evident that we were going to come in contact with the
enemy, for, not far from us upon a hillock to the south-east of Kopje
Alleen, a force moved now and again out from Kroonstad. This little hill
lay on our road to the railway, and it was desirable that we should not
be prevented there from carrying out the object we had in view. General
Botha therefore advanced in that direction on Monday evening. On the
following day it was discovered that there were no English on the hill,
and a patrol was left there.
In the evening the commando went to the farm of old Mr. Delport, where
we remained five days, for it was General Botha's intention to begin his
real work of interrupting the communications here. On the following
night, therefore, he proceeded to the railway, and broke it up not far
from Ventersburg Road Station.
I was glad to be able to remain here some days, because, as my son was
ill, he could thus remain under the care of Mrs. Delport and her
daughter. When we left he was well again. I owe much gratitude to this
kind family.
On Sunday, the 14th October, a fight took place. I had held services
first for the Harrismith, and then for the Kroonstad men, and had just
returned from the latter when a report arrived from the patrol on the
hill that a number of English had driven them away and taken possession
of the kopje. General Botha immediately advanced against them, whilst a
small number of burghers went with the trolleys we had to the farm of
Mr. Taljaart. General Botha attacked from two sides, and after a short
fight drove the English from the kopje to the camp at Ventersburg Road
Station.
The loss of the English was estimated at four dead and thirteen wounded,
and two were taken prisoners. We had no casualties. The following day we
went to the beautiful farm of Mr. Hendrik Delport. He had created an
oasis in the dreary sand flats. It was refreshing to see the green
willows growing here on the wall of the dam, and to walk beneath the
healthy fruit trees of the garden. We camped beside the dam wall, and
enjoyed the pleasure of being protected by the shade of the willow-trees
from the burning rays of the sun.
That night, whilst we were wrapped in peaceful slumbers under the trees,
we were awakened by the wild sound of horses' hoofs. My first idea was
that it was the enemy making a night attack upon us. I expected every
moment to hear the report of rifle shots, and visions of imprisonment
arose in my mind. There was a Commandant ill in a waggon which Mr.
Delport had hidden between the trees. He put out his head through the
waggon-flap and asked his sons--
"Children, what is this?"
It was not the enemy! It had been our own horses which had rushed
panic-stricken to our laager. What it was that had frightened them
nobody knew, but it was supposed to have been some game that had come to
drink at the dam.
_Repos ailleurs!_ it was not to be our lot to rest for long, or to
remain for any length of time under the shade of the green willows.
The next day a report came that "Khaki"--the word was often used without
an article--was coming, and some burghers again went to meet them. But
it was only five or six of the enemy who were reconnoitring, and our
burghers drove them back to their camp. On the day after a considerable
number came out with cannon. General Botha ordered the commando to
retire, which we did in the direction of Hoopstad. It was not long
before the enemy attacked our rearguard, but they were driven back with
a loss of fifteen dead and wounded; while, on our side, one man was
wounded, and General Botha got a scratch on the hand. Our burghers,
seeing the enemy retiring, became rash and charged. The results might
have been disastrous for us, for reinforcements with a gun and a Maxim
unexpectedly turned up, and our people were very nearly surrounded.
General Botha then had to retire. To continue the fight against superior
numbers, armed, moreover, with guns, was not to be thought of, and he
resolved to outwit the English. He therefore marched till far into the
night in the direction of Hoopstad, and the English followed us.
What difficulty I had to get my bearings on those wide level plains,
with no kopje or mountain to serve as beacons! I knew very well that we
were proceeding in a north-westerly direction, yet it seemed to me as if
we were going due north. What surprised me exceedingly was that the
burghers never seemed to be at a loss. They always knew the direction,
north, east, south, or west--they could instantly say where these lay.
"Where is east?"
"There!"
"Where must we look for Harrismith?"
"Yonder!"
"Bloemfontein?"
"There!"
Just lay your map open on the grass to-morrow and see if they were not
right. It is because their view has not been narrowed by maps. The four
winds of heaven are their compass, the stars their beacons.
The following night we marched until it was very late, and had to wait
as usual for the waggons. During these halts the men flung themselves on
the ground, and invariably fell fast asleep. When the order came to
mount there was sometimes a little confusion. A lad of sixteen, who was
still half-asleep, mounted his horse; a thud as of something soft
falling on the ground was heard. As it was very dark, we did not know
what it meant; but some close by explained that the boy, poor fellow,
not being well awake, instead of getting astride, had got right over his
horse and landed on the other side. When we had proceeded to thirty
miles from Hoopstad, we turned suddenly on the third night at such an
acute angle that our route ran almost parallel with that by which we had
come. On the following morning we reached the shop of Jelleman, and
learned during the course of the day that the English were still
persistently following up their original course. They had not then
adopted the flying-column system, and went on with their encumbrance of
large convoys, with an impetus very much like that of an elephant which,
when charging, cannot make a short turn. This enabled General Botha to
carry out his manoeuvre successfully.
The following day was Sunday, the 21st of October. We were then at the
farm of Mr. Singleton on the way back to the railway. It was a lovely
day, and very refreshing to hold service there under the trees at a dam.
Here an attack had been made on us the previous night, which we had been
unable to resist. I shall describe it.
There had been a strong wind the day before with signs of rain, and we
had prepared ourselves as well as we could for a wet night. But it did
not rain--something else happened: an attack--oh, that the muse of
Aristophanes inspire me while I record this--an attack of frogs! We had
lain down to sleep near the dam, and shortly after we had retired to
rest the frogs came out of the water. Perhaps the strong wind, causing a
movement in the waters, had sent them forth. They came in large numbers
and leaped about to their hearts' content. Here one tumbled on the
blanket of a sleeper, there another placed his wet feet on the face of
another, and you heard screams in the darkness, as of persons shrinking
back from cold baths. It was thought that the attack could be repulsed
by blows from hats and boots. But the amphibious enemy had not the least
inclination to sound the retreat. They unceasingly renewed the attack,
and were continually being supported by fresh reinforcements from the
dam. The issue at length hung in the balance, and the shame of a
possible defeat filled us with apprehension. Woe is me! The human beings
retreated. Here one man snatched up his bedding and fled--and there
another. I must record it. Our warriors lost the battle, and were forced
to evacuate their positions before an attack of--Frogs!!
In the afternoon we proceeded. Nothing of interest took place. Each day
we travelled some distance. The red sand of the desert was in evidence,
and the level plains remained as dreary as ever. It was very dry, and
the heat was often very fatiguing. Water was procurable from dams and
wells only; the water of the former was often dirty, and that of the
latter brackish. We had often to drink where our horses drank, and where
the geese and ducks swam. On one occasion, after we had boiled our small
kettles and drunk our corn coffee, we heard that we had made coffee
with the water of a dam in which shortly before some 400 soldiers had
bathed! How dreary it is to be in a country where there are no springs
and no streams.
In the course of our wanderings through the sandy plains we came to the
farm of a man named Stiglingh, and there I saw for the first time what a
farm looked like where the English had burnt down the house.
There stood the walls with black borders to the doors and windows and
along the gables, proving that the building had been a prey to the
flames. The tops of the trees before the house were scorched, and a vine
lay half torn from the wall against which the owner had trained it. It
was dreadful within to go from room to room and view the total
destruction there. The heaps of ashes showed that the devastation was
complete.
And what was the effect of this spectacle on the burghers?
Fear? Dismay?--No, resistance! Everyone who contemplated the ruins only
felt the more deeply the wrong that was done to our people. Here was a
nation which prided itself on its love of freedom, depriving a little
people of their independence; and doing this in the most cruel manner,
robbing them of their cattle and destroying their dwellings. Indignation
and a sterner resolve to resist were aroused by the sight of the ruin.
Those black borders round the gaping windows and doors conjured us not
to lay down our arms and beg for mercy; no, but to keep the war going.
The enemy had shattered all hopes of reconciliation.
I will describe how the house-burning was generally done. A burning
party of the British came on a farm, and the soldiers would begin by
chasing the poultry about and killing them. The officer in command
immediately gave the occupants a short time to carry out food and
clothing. The time given was usually so short that they were still busy
carrying out things when the flames would burst forth. The incendiaries
generally put the chairs and benches on the dining-room table, tore down
the curtains from the windows and stuffed them in between the chairs.
Then paraffin oil was squirted over everything, and the light applied.
Soon dense clouds of smoke arose and the house was in flames.
The head of the house here--so his wife told me--was ill when the
burning took place. Notwithstanding that he was taken prisoner. His
wife--for the English had not yet begun to capture women--had to take
refuge in an outhouse and stable with her children, where I found her,
subsisting on meat and mealies.
We left this farm in the afternoon with the object of crossing the
railway that night. Kopje Alleen soon hove in sight, and we passed it,
leaving it on our right.
Kopje Alleen! Is there elsewhere on earth a geographical object so
insignificant, but glorying in such world-wide fame, as thou. O Kopje
Alleen! I call to mind how, thirty years ago, I heard of thee, and
travelling towards thee, I counted the days which would pass before I
should behold thee, and be filled with admiration. At last thou didst
loom on the horizon! But I could not believe that it was thou, Kopje
Alleen, whose fame had spread far and wide--thou mere mole on the face
of the veld. But a cripple is an easy first among lame people; and here
thou standest, monarch of the undulations of the sandy plains.
The thorn-trees here, the red sand in the road, the hard tufts of grass
in the veld, all reminded me of the neighbourhood of Kimberley--and I
was not surprised to learn that the diamond mine of Mr. Minter was close
by.
Having off-saddled a little while near the flat hill where there had
been a fight the week before, we went on in order to cross the line
before daybreak. What sensations arise within one when such a task has
to be undertaken. Will there be patrols of the enemy on the line? will
shots be fired? will there be confusion? These are questions we ask
ourselves. But we must suppress our emotions, and whatever there may be
in store for us we must be prepared for everything.
This night march was similar to the others. We saw the Southern Cross
shining in the skies. In the east there rose first the Pleiades, then
Orion, then Sirius, and still we went on and on; but how slowly, owing
to the waggons and carts lagging far behind. The sky above was
constantly changing. The Southern Cross which had set rose again, and at
last Sirius shot down his rays perpendicularly upon us, and yet we had
not reached the railway line. And then, to our high-strung nerves how
loud seemed every sound in the stillness of the night,--the order had
been given that we should proceed in the greatest silence, but what a
noise the trolleys and carts made, and how loudly the pots and pans
which were carried on the carts and pack-horses sounded; and oh! why did
those three foals whinny so incessantly? We felt sure that the English
had become aware by all these noises of our coming, and were waiting for
us at the line.
Thus three parts of the night passed away. "How far is it still?" we
asked. "Half an hour!" is the reply. After half an hour we ask again,
"And how far is it now?" "Three-quarters of an hour!" Suddenly a sharp
point of light glints in the east. It must be a patrol fire. No, it is
the morning star, and before long the rosy dawn begins to tint the
eastern horizon! After all, we shall not reach the line before daylight.
But there the leading horses are beginning to halt at a little gate. We
reach it and pass through. The horses grind small stones under their
hoofs. In the twilight we see two rails pass under us--we have crossed
the railroad!
There were no English to hinder us in our march over, and from the side
of Ventersburg Station, where their camp was, they could not now
advance, because our corps of scouts had at midnight destroyed the line
between them and us. General Botha now restricted himself to breaking
down the telegraph poles, and destroying the wire for the distance of a
thousand yards.
We now proceeded to the beautiful farm of Mr. Minter. Nothing happened
excepting that shots were fired at some soldiers, who had gone out from
the camp near the station to reconnoitre.
When we crossed the railway we left behind the wide sandy plains, and we
wished them farewell with all our hearts. General Botha intended now to
make attacks on the enemy from the south side of the line.