And now for sheer personalities. Mr. Stuart had arrived, and as I
considered he was much better qualified to represent the paper with the
force than myself, I determined to come south. Mr. B. Weil, whom as I
have previously said, I consider to be one of the principal factors in
the successful defence, certainly as regards the food supply, said he
was going south. I accordingly resolved to accompany him, and while
returning from the ceremony suggested it. Anyhow, to make a long story
short, I arrived as he was starting, and with a small bag, having
relinquished all my Mafeking impedimenta, climbed into his cart. He had
to turn out one of his boys, but I didn't mind that, and being the most
good-natured of men, he tried to look as if he didn't. So our caravan
started--Major Anderson, Major Davis (Surg. I.L.I.), Mr. Weil, and
myself, together with his servant Mitchell, a prototype of "Binjamin,"
but absolutely reliable and hard-working, also Bradley, of Bradley's
Hotel, Inspector Marsh, the Rev. ---- Peart, and Ronny Moncrieffe (who
had secured a horse belonging to a Protectorate regiment, and proposed
to accompany us). He had done a lot of good work in the siege, and was
about as tired and unfit as a man could be. However, he was determined
to get through, and so he did. It was a quaint pilgrimage, as the
column, though it had swept the country, had not particularly cleared
it, and the Boer is here to-day, gone to-morrow, and back the next day.
Well, our commissariat was excellent. I contributed some eight biscuits
and three tins of bully, and that is all I have done except live on the
fat of the land--Lord, how fat it seemed after Mafeking--a land flowing
with fresh milk, butter and eggs, mutton and white bread, and above all,
the sense of freedom, I never knew what it felt like to be properly free
before, and I have been more or less of a wanderer most of my life. No
more sieges for me, except perhaps from the outside. Yet I was sorry to
leave Mafeking, and I may truly say as far as I know I didn't leave a
bad friend behind me, only all my kit. Towards dark, after an outspan
that was like a picnic, we reached Mr. Wright's farm, where the wounded
were--one had died the night before--and we found Mr. Hands, _Daily
Mail_, badly wounded in the thigh, but doing well; Captain Maxwell,
I.S.C., and others. Mr. Wright acts up to his name. Two of his sons
were in "tronk" at Zeerust for refusing to join the Boers, and what he
had was at our disposal. I wonder if people at home realize in what a
position our loyalists in Bechuanaland have been placed. If they didn't
come in their own countrymen regarded them as rebels,--if they did they
lost all they had. But by doing as they have done, that is by carrying
on their business while exposed to all the contumely and insult the
Boers could heap on them, with the possible loss of life as well as
property, they have served their country as well as those who have taken
up arms; because their houses have always been a safe place for runners
to go to, and news about the doings of the Boers could be obtained from
them. Besides, they know which of the Boers fought, and which didn't,
and this fact now terrifies the rebels and keeps many quiet, who might
not otherwise be so. Mr. Weil on arrival bought two hundred bags of
mealies and despatched them to his friends the Baralongs. Such a pretty
place his farm is, with plenty of water and lots of game. We slept
under the cart, and miserably cold it was. Mr. Weil (who is rather like
myself in that respect), could not sleep, and was determined nobody else
should do so. So we got up, and sat round the fire till sunrise. Our
cocoa that morning was indeed acceptable. The caravan, which was as I
say, quaint, marched as follows, preceded by mounted Kaffir
Scouts:--First came Keeley and his boy in a Cape cart drawn by mules,
followed by Weil, his servant, driver and myself in another Cape cart
with six mules, Bradley driving a pair of horses in another, then Ronny,
the Rev. ---- Peart and Inspector Marsh riding, the latter riding B.P.'s
brother's pony. We inspanned at sunrise on Monday and started for
Setloguli. Halted half way and had the pleasing intelligence that a
commando was raiding within six miles of us. I personally felt very
unhappy. I had always looked upon it as a two-to-one chance, and as we
had no weapons we could make no fight of it. Apart from the bore of
being a prisoner I knew I should be so awfully laughed at. However,
there we were--it was no use grumbling, but I did, as hard as ever I
could. Then we inspanned and drove to Setloguli, where our spirits were
considerably raised by an excellent lunch provided by Mrs. Fraser, who
is the best hostess I have ever met. The Frasers had a terrible rough
time of it, and now "the Queen had got her own again" were naturally
correspondingly cheerful. Later we were also further relieved to hear
that "the commando" was merely a small patrol of Boers, and that it had
withdrawn across the border. During the afternoon I went up and saw the
old fort--quite interesting, and anybody who wants to spend a quiet time
might do worse than to go to Setloguli. The worst of it is it takes
some time to get there. Lady Sarah Wilson's maid was there. She had
been there since Lady Sarah was brought in by the Boers to Mafeking.
Mr. Weil was showing various curios of the siege to Mrs. Fraser,
including a copy of Her Majesty's _Leaves from the Journal of our Life
in the Highlands_, which he had looted from the Boer laager. This
excited the good lady's unqualified wrath, "What sacrilege for them to
have it in their hands. Why it smells Boery," she said. On Tuesday
Keeley was returning to Mafeking with Lady Sarah's maid and his scouts,
so Weil engaged two scouts to accompany us to Jan Modebi, where we were
next going to stop. They didn't seem particularly pushing sort of
scouts, as they persistently rode in rear of the Cape cart. The road
too, was infamous, but it was impossible to lose the way as the column
had left an unmistakable track behind them, and this was fortunate,
because when we had been going about an hour and a half our intelligent
guide stated he didn't know the way. I wonder how Keeley felt all that
Tuesday. If he could have heard half we said he would have torn his two
days' beard out and wept. The other scout lost us altogether. Keeley
and Weil were arranging a series of despatch riders, so as long as we
got one of them to Jan Modebi's, it didn't much matter. We outspanned
first at a rebel's farm, and had an excellent lunch. I was still rather
fretful. The prospect of captivity made me so, and I only believe in
dead Dutchmen, till peace is proclaimed.
One Sonnenberg, a brother of some Bond member or other, was there
trading, I suppose, like most Bondsmen, running with the hare and
hunting with the hounds. He looked well on it, and was very civil. We
inspanned and then came a long trek to Jan Modebi's. About half-way
there, we saw two horsemen with guns cruising about. One obviously was
not a soldier. I reckoned Pretoria was the ticket, however, they came
up and Weil went to interview them. They turned out to be one of the
Kimberley Light Horse and a civilian who was showing him the way, and he
said he had got a convoy of cattle. It felt like being near home again
then. We afterwards met the convoy--total, four white men and five
black. I still marvel at their colossal impudence, marching through a
rebel country within five miles of the enemy's border, escorting cattle
for which any Boer will peril his skin. He calmly assured me they were
going to pick up all they saw on the way; to use his own words, "All is
fish that comes to our net." I hope they got through all right. So to
Mr. Menson's, where we put up for the night, and he, like everyone else,
did all he could. He, too, had had a bad time. He didn't grumble, but
when the relief column had come through they had cut all his barbed wire
fences. Having a constitutional antipathy to barbed wire I sympathized
with the relief column, but naturally did not say so. I was amused to
see three prints of Sir Alfred Milner, Lord Roberts, and Oom Paul, the
inscription under the latter being, "The end is better than the
beginning, 14.10.99," also to hear his account of how when driving his
cattle to Vryburg at the outbreak of the war he had met a Dutchman who
told him that they had driven the English into the sea. His reply was,
"Oh, that's too far to go," and so he turned and drove his cattle back
again to his farm. Weil, as usual, bought up cattle, &c., also butter
and other luxuries, and despatched them to the hospital at Mafeking on
his own account.
Wednesday. We started rather later than usual owing to the heavy rain,
and half way to Vryburg we crossed the fresh spoor of men, wagons,
cattle, &c., going towards the Transvaal. It afterwards transpired it
was the rebel Van Zyl and his following, bolting from Kuruman to the
Transvaal. Let off number two. We couldn't have been more than an hour
or two behind them, and they would certainly have scooped us had we met
them, so the rain was lucky. Well, we got into Vryburg from one side as
the troops got in from the other. An old acquaintance rushed me off to
the Club, and I then strolled up to see the Scotch Yeomanry and found
Charley Burn. I found also Kidd and several others I knew--then on to
see Reade, who had been Intelligence Officer at Mafeking before the war,
and was D.A.A.G. to General Barton, and arranged about getting on in the
first train. This was my first chance of seeing the infantry Tommy on
the war path to any great extent. He is no more beautiful or clean, in
fact, if anything less so than his cavalry brother, but by heaven he
looks a useful one! However, what matter the man as long as the flag is
clean. Met North of the Royal Fusiliers and dined with him, they all
asked after Fitzclarence, Godley, and the others. They and the Scots
Fusiliers had done quite an extraordinary march of forty-four miles in
thirty-four hours, and now our infantry were within striking distance of
Mafeking. The line should soon be repaired as they had begun from
Mafeking and the line as far as Maribogo was practically untouched, in
fact next morning, Thursday, they ran twelve miles north. Thursday we
began our preparations for departure. The garrison were preparing to
celebrate the Queen's Birthday, and the populace to display great
enthusiasm, and the women began to come into town. It was not a highly
polished parade, so far as I could see. Still, it was rather good to
have it there just then, where the Dutchmen had been in occupation
within ten days. Rifles were now coming in by the hundred, and the
rebel of a fortnight before became a British patriot. We drove to the
station, and there met the Scots Fusiliers. I was accosted by a warrior
in large blue goggles, who said I didn't remember him. I naturally
didn't in the goggles, but it turned out to be Scudamore. They did the
best they could for us, and then Dick of the Royal Irish Fusiliers
turned up, who had once been my sergeant-major. I was glad to see
him--the old regiment and squadron seems fairly dotted all over Africa.
Barnes was at Mafeking, three of us had been through the siege, and I
met one Lambart at Taungs, who had been a corporal with us, and was a
captain in the Kimberley Mounted Corps, curiously enough all belonging
to two squadrons, B and D. Well, we left Vryburg with a light engine
and a truck full of niggers. We were all sitting on the tank, in charge
of young Gregg, R.E., who is a good train master. He ran us down, after
dropping the niggers to repair a bridge, to Dry Hartz, where we had to
pull out for an up-coming train, and as we had half an hour to wait, and
it was just mid-day at twelve, we formed up and gave three cheers for
the Queen and drank her health. It was the smallest and dirtiest
Queen's Birthday parade I have ever attended; nine all told, but "mony a
little makes a muckle." We ran down to Taungs, where one way and
another we were detained some twelve hours. I didn't mind. The Royal
Welsh Fusiliers were there, and I found several old friends and
acquaintances--Gough Radcliffe, R.H., Cooper (Royal Fusiliers), Broke
Wright, R.E., the former railway staff officer. So into a cattle truck
we jumped with one of the Welsh Fusiliers and some men and arrived at
Kimberley 7 o'clock next morning, where I called on Sir C. Parsons, and
had fish for breakfast at the hotel. Thus my journey was practically
ended. It transpired that Vryburg was held by some half dozen of our
forces, and that the remainder of the garrison was only sixty loyalists
from the town population. It did not seem a large garrison, but
apparently it was good enough. There was rather a curious coincidence at
dinner at Orange River. I saw a man whose face I thought I knew, but I
was mistaken; it was his likeness to his brother which misled me. He
turned out to be Tom Greenfield's brother, who was down here sick, and
to whom I had wired to meet me at Fourteen Streams, so that I could give
him news of Tom. However, I struck him on the next river or so, so it
didn't much matter.
It was sad to pass the Modder River and see our cemeteries--all English;
so we passed on to Cape Town. And how jolly it was to see old friends;
besides, we were able to tell our Mafeking people, womenfolk, good news
of their husbands.
Three pleasant days there, and then everybody came to see us off by the
_Norman_, which we nearly missed. The voyage passed without much
incident. Everybody on board was more or less personally interested in
the war, and there were a good many Boers and pro-Boers on board. On
Saturday, short of Madeira, the _Briton_ signalled the news of the fall
of Pretoria. Tremendous rejoicings on board on the part of the British,
while the Dutch were correspondingly depressed and seemed rather sad;
some of them wept into the sea.
The further I got from the seat of war the less animus I felt. So to
Madeira, where we arrived about midnight, and the news was confirmed
with particulars. We got many newspapers. On to Southampton--more
victories; many valuable officers killed. It is really sad to take up a
newspaper; one sees friends killed in every fight. Thus we arrived in
London at 9.15 on the 15th June, having left Mafeking 11 a.m. the 20th
May.
[Illustration: "LORD NELSON." By a curious coincidence the letters B.P.
were found cast on the breech of this piece when dug up.]
[Illustration: Cavalryman]