EXCHANGED FOR A HORSE-THIEF--BACK TO MAFEKING AFTER TWO
MONTHS' WANDERINGS
"Hail, fellow! well met!"--SWIFT.
Next morning I was awakened at 6 a.m. by Mr. Drake knocking at my door,
and telling me I was to be ready in half an hour, as Colonel
Baden-Powell had consented to exchange me for Petrus Viljoen. This
exchange had placed our Commanding Officer in an awkward position. The
prisoner was, as I stated before, a criminal, and under the jurisdiction
of the civil authorities, who would not take upon themselves the
responsibility of giving him up. Under these circumstances Lord Edward
Cecil had come forward and represented to Colonel Baden-Powell that it
was unseemly for an Englishwoman to be left in the hands of the Boers,
and transported to Pretoria by the rough coach, exposed to possible
insults and to certain discomforts. He even declared himself prepared to
take any consequent blame on his shoulders, and, being the Prime
Minister's son, his words had great weight. As a matter of fact, Petrus
Viljoen was anything but a fighting man, and could be of very little
service to our enemies. The burghers had told me his presence was so
persistently desired from the fact of the republic having private scores
to settle with him. In any case, he was very reluctant to leave Mafeking
and the safety of the prison, which fact had influenced Colonel
Baden-Powell in finally agreeing to the exchange.
As may be imagined, I could hardly believe my good fortune, and I lost
no time in scrambling into my clothes while the cart was being
inspanned. A vexatious delay occurred from the intractability of the
mules, which persistently refused to allow themselves to be caught. The
exchange of prisoners had to be effected before 8 a.m., when the truce
would be over, and I shall never forget how I execrated those stubborn
animals, as the precious minutes slipped by, fearful lest my captors
would change their minds and impose fresh conditions. However, at length
all was ready, and, escorted by some artillery officers, I drove to
headquarters, where I was requested to descend in order to have another
interview with the General. Again an inquisitive crowd watched my
movements, but civilly made way for me to pass into the little room
where General Snyman was holding a sort of levee. The latter asked me a
few purposeless questions. I gravely expressed a hope that his eyes
were better (he had been suffering from inflamed sight); then he rose
and held out his hand, which I could not ignore, and without further
delay we were off. About 2,000 yards from Mafeking I noticed the enemy's
advanced trenches, with some surprise at their proximity to the town;
and here we met the other party with a white flag escorting Mr. Viljoen,
who looked foolish, dejected, and anything but pleased to see his
friends. He was forthwith given over to their care, the mules were
whipped up, and at a gallop we rattled into the main street. From the
first redoubt Colonel Baden-Powell and Lord Edward Cecil ran out to
greet me, and the men in the trench gave three ringing English cheers,
which were good to hear; but no time had to be lost in getting under
cover, and I drove straight to Mr. Wiel's house, and had hardly reached
it when "Creechy" (a Dutch pet-name which had been given to the big
siege gun) sent a parting salute, and her shell whizzed defiantly over
our heads.
Then commenced a more or less underground existence, which continued for
five and a half months; but, surrounded by friends, it was to me a
perfect heaven after so many weeks passed amidst foes. I had much to
hear, and it took some time to realize all the changes in the little
town since I had left. First and foremost, the town guard were coming
splendidly out of their long-protracted ordeal. Divided into three
watches, they passed the night at the different redoubts, behind each of
which was a bomb-proof shelter. Those of the second watch were ready to
reinforce the men on duty, while the third were only to turn out if
summoned by the alarm-bell. All the defences had, indeed, been brought
to a wonderful pitch of perfection by the C.O. First there was a network
of rifle-pits, which gave the Boers no peace day or night, and from
which on one side or the other an almost incessant sniping went on.
These were supplemented by dynamite mines, the fame of which had
frightened the Boers more than anything else, all connected with
Headquarter Staff Office by electric wires. In addition there was
barbed-wire fencing round the larger earthworks, and massive barricades
of waggons and sandbags across the principal streets. All this looked
very simple once erected and in working order, but it was the outcome of
infinite thought and ever-working vigilance. Then there was a complete
system of telephones, connecting all the redoubts and the hospital with
the Staff Office, thereby saving the lives of galloping orderlies,
besides gaining their services as defenders in a garrison so small that
each unit was an important factor. Last, but certainly not least, were
the bomb-proof shelters, which black labour had constructed under
clever supervision all over the town, till at that time, in case of
heavy shelling, nearly every inhabitant could be out of harm's way. What
struck me most forcibly was that, in carrying out these achievements,
Colonel Baden-Powell had been lucky enough to find instruments, in the
way of experienced men, ready to his hand. One officer was proficient in
bomb-proofs, the postmaster thoroughly understood telephones, while
another official had proved himself an expert in laying mines. The area
to be defended had a perimeter of six miles; but, in view of the
smallness of the garrison and the overwhelming number of the Boers, it
was fortunate the authorities had been bold and adventurous enough to
extend the trenches over this wide space, instead of following the old
South African idea of going into laager in the market-square, which had
been the first suggestion. The town was probably saved by being able to
present so wide a target for the Boer artillery, and although we were
then, and for the next few weeks, cut off from all communication with
the outer world, even by nigger letter-carriers, and in spite of bullets
rattling and whizzing through the market-square and down the
side-streets, the Boer outposts were gradually being pushed away by our
riflemen in their invisible pits. While on this subject, I must mention
that a day spent in those trenches was anything but an agreeable one.
Parties of six men and an officer occupied them daily before dawn, and
remained there eighteen hours, as any attempt to leave would have meant
a hail of bullets from the enemy, distant only about 600 yards. They
were dug deep enough to require very little earthwork for protection;
hence they were more or less invisible by the enemy in their larger
trenches. These latter were constantly subjected to the annoyance of
bullets coming, apparently, from the ground, and, though other foes
might have acted differently in like circumstances, the Boers did not
care for the job of advancing across the open to dislodge the hidden
enemy.
In a very few days a new bomb-proof shelter had been constructed for me,
and to inaugurate it I gave an underground dinner with six guests. This
bomb-proof was indeed a triumph in its line, and I must describe it.
About 18 by 15 feet, and 8 feet high, it was reached by a flight of
twelve wooden steps, at the top of which was a door that gave it the
privacy of a room. It was lighted besides by three horizontal apertures,
which resembled the very large portholes of a sailing-ship, and this
illusion was increased by the wooden flaps that could be closed at will.
The roof was composed of two lots of steel rails placed one above the
other, and on these were sheets of corrugated iron and a huge tarpaulin
to keep out the rain. Above, again, were 9 feet of solid earth, while
rows upon rows of sandbags were piled outside the entrance to guard
against splinters and stray bullets. The weighty roof was supported, as
an additional precaution, on the inside by three stout wooden posts,
which, together with the rather dim light, most apparent when descending
from the brilliant sunshine outside, gave the bomb-proof the appearance
of a ship's cabin; in fact, one of my visitors remarked it much reminded
him of the well-known print of the _Victory's_ cockpit when Nelson lay
a-dying. The interior panelling was painted white. One wall was entirely
covered with an enormous Union Jack, and the other was decorated with
native weapons, crowned by a trophy of that very war--namely, the only
Mauser carbine then taken from the Boers. To complete the up-to-date
nature of this protected dwelling, a telephone was installed, through
the medium of which I could in a second communicate with the Staff
Headquarters, and have due notice given me of "Creechy's" movements. In
this shelter it was certainly no hardship to spend those hot days, and
it was known to be the coolest place in town at that hot season of the
year.
On Sundays we were able, thanks to the religious proclivities of the
Boers, to end our mole existence for twenty-four hours, and walk and
live like Christians. To almost the end of the siege this truce was
scrupulously observed on both sides, and from early dawn to late at
night the whole population thoroughly enjoyed themselves. The relieved
expression on the faces of all could not fail to be apparent to even a
casual observer. Pale women and children emerged from their laager, put
on their finery, sunned themselves, and did their shopping. The black
ladies went in a body to the veldt to collect firewood with all their
natural gaiety and light-heartedness, which not even shell-fire and
numerous casualties amongst themselves seemed seriously to disturb.
Those of us who had horses and carriages at our disposal rode and drove
anywhere within our lines in perfect safety. The first Sunday I was in
Mafeking I was up and on my pony by 6 a.m., unwilling to lose a moment
of the precious day. We rode all round our defences, and inspected Canon
Kopje, the scene of the most determined attack the Boers had made, the
repulse of which, at the beginning of the siege, undoubtedly saved the
town. From there we looked through the telescope at "Creechy," whose
every movement could be watched from this point of vantage, and whose
wickedly shining barrel was on the "day of rest" modestly pointed to the
ground. Returning, we rode through the native stadt, quite the most
picturesque part of Mafeking, where the trim, thatched, beaver-shaped
huts, surrounded by mud walls, enclosing the little gardens and some
really good-sized trees, appeared to have suffered but little damage
from the bombardment, in spite of the Boers having specially directed
their fire against the inhabitants (the Baralongs), who were old
opponents of theirs. These natives were only armed by the authorities
when the invaders specially selected them for their artillery fire and
made raids on their cattle. The variety and sizes of these arms were
really laughable. Some niggers had old-fashioned Sniders, others
elephant guns, and the remainder weapons with enormously long barrels,
which looked as if they dated back to Waterloo. To their owners,
however, the maker or the epoch of the weapon mattered little. They were
proud men, and stalked gravely along the streets with their precious
rifles, evidently feeling such a sense of security as they had never
experienced before.
On the Sunday I alluded to, after our ride we attended morning service,
held as usual in the neat little church, which, with the exception of a
few gashes in the ceiling rafters, caused by fragments of shell, had up
to date escaped serious injury. The Dutch Church, on the other hand,
curiously enough, was almost demolished by shell-fire at the beginning
of the siege. We then drove up to the hospital, where Miss Hill, the
plucky and youthful-looking matron, received us and showed us round.
This girl--for she was little more--had been the life and prop of the
place for the past two months, during which time the resources of the
little hospital had been taxed almost past belief. Where twenty was the
usual number of patients, there were actually sixty-four on the occasion
of my first visit. The staff was composed of only a matron and three
trained nurses. In addition to their anxieties for the patients, who
were being so frequently brought in with the most terrible injuries,
these nurses underwent considerable risks from the bombardment, which,
no doubt from accident, had been all along directed to the vicinity of
the hospital and convent, which lay close together. The latter had
temporarily been abandoned by the nuns, who were living in an adjacent
bomb-proof, and the former had not escaped without having a shell
through one of the wards, at the very time a serious operation was
taking place. By a miraculous dispensation no patient was injured, but a
woman, who had been previously wounded by a Mauser bullet while in the
laager, died of fright.
The afternoon was taken up by a sort of gymkhana, when a happy holiday
crowd assembled to see the tilting at the ring, the lemon-cutting, and
the tug-of-war. At this entertainment Colonel Baden-Powell was
thoroughly in his element, chatting to everyone and dispensing tea from
a travelling waggon. In the evening I dined at Dixon's with our old
party, and, really, the two months that had elapsed since I was at that
same table had effected but little change in the surroundings and in the
fare, which at that early stage of the siege was as plentiful as ever,
even the stock of Schweppes' soda-water appearing inexhaustible. Besides
this luxury, we had beautiful fresh tomatoes and young cabbages. The
meat had resolved itself into beef, and beef only, but eggs helped out
the menu, and the only non-existent delicacy was "fresh butter." This
commodity existed in tins, but I must confess the sultry weather had
anticipated the kitchen, in that it usually appeared in a melted state.
The most formidable weapon of the Boers was, naturally, the big siege
Creusot gun. The very first day I arrived in Mafeking "Creechy"
discharged a shell that killed a trooper of the Protectorate Regiment,
who happened to be standing up in the stables singing a song, whilst
four or five others were seated on the ground. The latter were
uninjured, but the dead man was absolutely blown to bits, and one of his
legs was found in the roof. A few days after two more shells landed in
the market-square, one going through the right window of the chemist's
shop, the other demolishing the left-hand one. Some of the staff were
actually in the shop when the second shell came through the window, and
were covered with dust, broken bits of glass, and shattered wood, but
all providentially escaped unhurt. Others were not so fortunate, for a
nigger in the market-square was literally cut in half, and a white man
100 yards away had his leg torn off. Again, in Mr. Wiel's store a shell
burst while the building was full of people, without injuring anyone;
but one of the splinters carried an account-book from the counter and
deposited it in the roof on its outward passage. Indeed, not a day
passed but one heard of marvellously narrow escapes.
As the heat increased, the shelling grew certainly slacker, and, after
an hour or two spent in exchanging greetings in the early morning, both
besieged and besiegers seemed to slumber during the sultry noonday
hours. About four they appeared to rouse themselves, and often my
telephone would then ring up with the message: "The gun is loaded, and
pointed at the town." Almost simultaneously a panting little bell, not
much louder than a London muffin-bell, but heard distinctly all over the
town in the clear atmosphere, would give tongue, and luckless folk who
were promenading the streets had about three seconds to seek shelter,
the alarm being sounded as the flash was seen by the look-out. One
afternoon they gave us three shots in six minutes, but, of course, this
rapid firing was much safer for the inhabitants than a stray shot after
a long interval, as people remained below-ground expecting a repetition
of that never-to-be-forgotten crashing explosion, followed by the
sickening noise of the splinters tearing through the air, sometimes just
over one's head, like the crack of a very long whip, manipulated by a
master-hand. The smallest piece of one of these fragments was sufficient
to kill a man, and scarcely anyone wounded with a shell ever seemed to
survive, the wounds being nearly always terribly severe, and their
poison occasioning gangrene to set in. There were many comic as well as
tragic incidents connected with the shells of the big gun. A monkey
belonging to the post-office, who generally spent the day on the top of
a pole to which he was chained, would, on hearing the alarm-bell,
rapidly descend from his perch, and, in imitation of the human beings
whom he saw taking shelter, quickly pop under a large empty biscuit-tin.
Dogs also played a great part in the siege. One, belonging to the
Base-Commandant, was wounded no less than three times; a rough Irish
terrier accompanied the Protectorate Regiment in all its engagements;
and a third amused itself by running after the small Maxim shells,
barking loudly, and trying to retrieve pieces. On the other hand, the
Resident Commissioner's dog was a prudent animal, and whenever she heard
the alarm-bell, she would leave even her dinner half eaten, and bolt
down her master's bomb-proof. On one occasion I remember being amused at
seeing a nigger, working on the opposite side of the road, hold up a
spade over his head like an umbrella as the missile came flashing by,
while a fellow-workman crawled under a large tarpaulin that was
stretched on the ground. These natives always displayed the most
astonishing sang-froid. One day we saw a funny scene on the occasion of
a Kaffir wedding, when the bridegroom was most correctly attired in
morning-dress and an old top-hat. Over his frock-coat he wore his
bandolier, and carried a rifle on his shoulder; the bride, swathed in a
long white veil from head to foot, walked by his side, and was followed
by two young ladies in festive array, while the procession was brought
up by more niggers, armed, like the bridegroom, to the teeth. The party
solemnly paraded the streets for fully half an hour, in no wise
disconcerted by a pretty lively shelling and the ring of the Mausers on
the corrugated iron roofs.
Quite as disagreeable as "Creechy," although less noisy, was the enemy's
1-pound Maxim. A very loud hammering, quickly repeated, and almost
simultaneously a whirring in the air, followed by four quick explosions,
and then we knew this poisonous devil was at work. The shells were
little gems in their way, and when they did not burst, which was often
the case, were tremendously in request as souvenirs. Not much larger
than an ordinary pepper-caster, when polished up and varnished they made
really charming ornaments, and the natives were quick to learn that they
commanded a good price, for after a shower had fallen there was a
helter-skelter amongst the black boys for any unexploded specimens. One
evening we had a consignment into the road just outside my bomb-proof,
attracted by a herd of mules going to water. Immediately the small
piccaninny driving these animals scampered off, returning in triumph
with one of these prizes, which he brought me still so hot that I could
not hold it. It used often to strike me how comic these scenes at
Mafeking would have been to any aeronaut hovering over the town of an
evening, especially when the shelling had been heavy. Towards sundown
the occupants of the various bomb-proofs used to emerge and sit on the
steps or the sandbags of their shelters, conversing with their
neighbours and discussing the day's damage. All of a sudden the bell
would tinkle, and down would go all the heads, just as one has often
seen rabbits on a summer evening disappear into their holes at the
report of a gun. In a few minutes, when the explosion was over, they
would bob up again, to see if any harm had been done by the last
missile. Then night would gradually fall on the scene, sometimes made
almost as light as day by a glorious African moon, concerning which I
shall always maintain that in no other country is that orb of such
brightness, size, and splendour. The half-hour between sundown and
moonrise, or twilight and inky blackness, as the case happened to be,
according to the season or the weather, was about the pleasantest time
in the whole day. As a rule it was a peaceful interval as regards
shelling. Herds of mules were driven along the dusty streets to be
watered; cattle and goats returned from the veldt, where they had been
grazing in close proximity to the town, as far as possible out of sight;
foot-passengers, amongst them many women, scurried along the side-walks
closely skirting the houses. Then, when daylight had completely faded,
all took shelter, to wait for the really vicious night-gun, which was
usually fired between eight and nine with varying regularity, as our
enemies, no doubt, wished to torment the inhabitants by not allowing
them to know when it was safe for them to seek their homes and their
beds. There was a general feeling of relief when "Creechy" had boomed
her bloodthirsty "Good-night." Only once during the whole siege was she
fired in the small hours of the morning, and that was on Dingaan's Day
(December 16), when she terrified the sleeping town by beginning her
day's work at 2.30 a.m., followed by a regular bombardment from all the
other guns in chorus, to celebrate the anniversary of the great Boer
victory over the Zulus many years ago. Frequent, however, were the
volleys from the trenches that suddenly broke the tranquillity of the
early night, and startling were they in their apparent nearness till one
got accustomed to them. At first I thought the enemy must be firing in
the streets, so loud were the reports, owing to the atmosphere and the
wind setting in a particular direction. The cause of these volleys was
more difficult to discover, and, as our men never replied, it seemed
somewhat of a waste of ammunition. Their original cause was a sortie
early in the siege, when Captain Fitzclarence made a night attack with
the bayonet on their trenches. Ever afterwards an animal moving on the
veldt, a tree or bush stirred by the wind, an unusual light in the town,
was sufficient for volley after volley to be poured at imaginary foes.
By nine o'clock these excitements were usually over, and half an hour
afterwards nearly every soul not on duty was asleep, secure in the
feeling that for every one who reposed two were on watch; while, as
regards Colonel Baden-Powell, he was always prowling about, and the
natives revived his old Matabele nickname of "the man that walks by
night."