MAFEKING IN FEBRUARY
The investment was much less close than formerly. Owing to the
increasing activity in other parts of the theatre of war, Colonel
Baden-Powell was relieved of the pressing attentions that were
previously bestowed on him. Now for the first time he found himself in
touch with the outer world, for telegraphic communication was restored
in the direction of Gaberones, about ninety miles north of Mafeking, and
from thence a bi-weekly service of runners was instituted for the
conveyance of letters and telegrams, of course at the owners' risk.
There was delight all round, and "Old Bathing Towel," as contemporary
Carthusians used irreverently to call him, made haste to rejoice the
hearts of those at home with a report of his doings.
[Illustration: SLEEPLESS MAFEKING--HOT WORK IN THE TRENCHES.
Drawing by R. Caton Woodville.]
On the 4th of February the etiquette of the Sabbath was broken by an
accident. The machine-gun at Fort Ayr was fired, and the enemy was not
slow to reply. Lieutenant Grenfell, unarmed and without a flag of truce,
pluckily went out to tender apologies for the accident. He was met by
the Boers, who exchanged for a flask of whisky two copies of the
_Standard and Diggers' News_, containing glowing accounts of Boer
victories on the Tugela! It needed more than the contents of the flask
to correct the dismay occasioned by the lamentable, if exaggerated, news
of the abandonment of Spion Kop, and the inhabitants could only console
themselves by remembering what a stupendous and gratuitous liar the Boer
could be. Luckily for them, they only accepted half of the Dutchmen's
tales, and had learnt by experience that the art of editing Boer
journals was dependent on imaginative rather than realistic talent. For
instance, "one who knew" described the methods of _Volkstem_
thus:--"When you knew it, something could be extracted. The key to the
mystery was this: The paper always published the exact opposite of what
had taken place. For instance, a few days before Cronje's capture it had
a grand headline--'Cronje the Captor.' And underneath came the
astounding statement that Cronje had cornered 900 British Lancers on the
Koodoosrand. Alas! for Cronje and his Lancers! They existed only in the
editor's fertile imagination." So, notwithstanding the report of
reverses elsewhere, the large heart of Mafeking was still bent on
bursting its cramped shell. If antiquated methods of warfare were
carried on in other parts of South Africa, they were certainly not
pursued here, for Colonel Baden-Powell was a modern of the moderns. The
secrets of the enemy's tactics were at his fingers' ends, and where
science failed to match them resource came in. He knew how to make
dynamite spit and scream and threaten; he studied the problem of tension
and the art of playing on the nerves of his adversary, and Cronje's
remark, "Not men, but devils," made as that redoubtable one shook the
dust of Mafeking off his shoes, must have been the dearest compliment
the Colonel's heart could crave. The Colonel, in a despatch forwarded to
Colonel Nicholson--an officer who, with a small column and armoured
train, held Mangwe, Palapye, and other places on the rail--dated
February 12, described his activities:--
"MAFEKING, _February 12_.
"On the 3rd inst. our Nordenfeldt was chiefly occupied in
preventing the enemy from completing their new work on the
northern slope of the south-eastern heights. Assistance was
rendered by our seven-pounder, emplaced in the bush to the east
of Cannon Kopje. The enemy's siege-gun replied vigorously.
During that night the enemy were nervous and restless, and kept
firing volleys at our working parties, being apparently
apprehensive of attack. Their firing continued until dawn, when
the work in our trenches ceased.
"There was a curious incident at Fort Ayr that Sunday. Our
machine-gun there was fired accidentally, and the enemy
replied. Lieutenant Grenfell went out and apologised for the
accident. Though the gun had been fired and the enemy had
replied, he did not take a flag of truce with him. The Boers
met him, and exchanged two copies of the _Standard and Diggers'
News_ for a flask of whisky.
"On Monday, the 5th, irregular shelling continued all day. In
the evening heavy rains fell, but the enemy kept up the
bombardment till midnight, firing a new incendiary shell,
which, however, failed to take effect.
"On the 7th there was a desultory bombardment, and the
sharpshooters were busy. On the 8th the enemy's siege-gun fired
one shell only.
"On the 11th the enemy were quiet, being engaged in fortifying
their big gun emplacement, and generally preparing to resist
attack from outside. A good deal of night-firing was exchanged
between our outlying positions and those of the enemy, volleys
being fired at short ranges.
"Next day the enemy were fairly quiet. Mr. Dall, a well-known
citizen, was killed, and two Cape boys were wounded, while two
natives in the town were killed and some four wounded."
The circumstances of Mr. Dall's death were deeply tragic, for his wife,
who was in the women's laager at the time, on hearing of the news was
half-distracted by the shock. Owing to the grievous affair the dance
that was to have taken place was postponed to the following day.
[Illustration: FACSIMILE OF ISSUE OF 25TH JANUARY 1900 OF THE _Mafeking
Mail_.]
Colonel Baden-Powell issued an order which broke to the besieged the
information that the Commander-in-Chief had requested them to hold on
till May. Hearts dropped to zero! If properly conserved, it was believed
that provisions might be eked out till the Queen's birthday, but the
quality of the fare was bad enough without consideration of the
quantity. The men were tough, they were game for anything; but the
women--helpless, worn, unnerved, surrounded by children, and limited to
the confines of an insanitary laager--they made an additional tangle to
the already knotty situation. The townsfolk going to the posts in the
trenches, with their own lives in their hands, had upon them the burden
of thought for those, their weaklier belongings, who were waning with
anxiety and disease--waning many of them into their graves. Still the
garrison grumbled little. It set out as Sabbath decoration for the forts
and trenches some smart Union Jacks which had been worked by the ladies
in the town, and the dauntless ones engaged in a concert, the programme
of which was vastly appreciated. Here "B.-P.'s" well-known talents came
in handy, for he played the Chevalier of the entertainment and displayed
all the versatility of that renowned performer. From the aesthetic
Paderewski (with his hair on) to a Whitechapel Coster is a good jump,
but the gallant Colonel, who had so long impersonated Job to order of
the British Government, was not to be defeated by minor representations,
however various. After this joviality a ball was attempted, but alas!
with sorry success. Before the gaily attired guests were well under way
the uproar of Maxims and Mausers had begun. They tried to dance. It
would have been a case of Nero fiddling while Rome was burning. A staff
officer arrived ordering all to fall in. Soon there was a general
stampede, officers fled to their posts, orderlies rushed off to sound
the alarm, the galloping Maxim tore through the blue obscurity from the
western outposts to the town; the Bechuanaland Rifles and the
Protectorate Regiment hurried to the brickfields, the Cape Police made
for the eastern advance posts, while the ladies, charming, disconsolate,
hied them precipitately to places of refuge. There, in the lambent beams
of the moon, were seen excited shadows, all either rushing to their
bomb-proof shelters or scudding to the sniping posts of the river.
Showers of bullets flecked the sapphire air, and the exquisite serene
night was changed into a long, wakeful, quaking anguish. The Boers kept
up their firing operations throughout the small hours, but at dawn, when
they received a _quid pro quo_ from the British quarter, they deemed it
best to subdue their ardour for a brief space. Rest was short-lived. On
the 13th the gunners again made themselves offensive by endeavouring to
hit the flour-mill, and they succeeded in their efforts, though
fortunately without destroying it. They pursued their murderous
industries throughout the day, pouring bullets on any one who dared to
show a nose in the open, and about noon succeeded in seriously wounding
Captain Girdwood, who was returning to luncheon on his bicycle.
The unfortunate officer--one of the most popular fellows and as gallant
as he was jolly--never rallied after receiving the fatal wound and died
on the following day. In the evening he was buried. The solemn rite was
conducted with simplicity under the mild moonbeams which silvered the
gloomy scene and softened the rigid faces of the bronzed warriors who
hung in melancholy regret round the open grave.
The Boers sometimes endeavoured to affect jocosity. From the advanced
trench, which was some hundred and ten yards from the besiegers' main
trench, their voices could be heard travelling on the breeze. The
prelude to their attacks began not seldom with "Here's a good morning to
you, Mafeking," or other remarks of cheery or personal nature. Then
rattle, rattle, and one of the British band would drop. On one of these
occasions an amusing if tragic ruse was perpetrated. The Boers were
known to be fond of music, and some one of the tormented hit on the
happy idea of performing for the benefit of the hostile audience. The
savage breast was soothed. The Boers were "drawn." They stopped to
listen. Enraptured, they advanced nearer, nearer. Finally, two
enthusiastic, inquisitive heads protruded from cover--protruded never to
protrude again!
The Boers soon began to try the expedient of attacking Mafeking by
proxy. Assaults were made, or rather attempted, by a mongrel force,
composed largely of mercenaries--Germans, Scandinavians, Frenchmen, and
renegade Irish (probably "returned empties" from the gallant Emerald
Isle), ne'er-do-weel's, who felt it necessary at times to do something
for their living. These were assisted by natives, who were pressed into
their service to make a convenient padding for their front in advance,
for their rear in retreat, as they took good care to save their own
hides when retirement was obligatory.
Fortunately their artillery practice, which was patiently kept up, was
very inferior, otherwise Mafeking would soon have been in ruins. On one
afternoon the enemy plied his siege-gun and another gun with great
vigour. Out of eight rounds one shot besprinkled two of the besieged
with dust; a 5-pounder gun from one quarter and a 1-pounder Maxim from
another filled the air with deplorable detonations for two whole hours,
yet happily no life was lost. To this hot fire the inhabitants replied
only with their rifles. It was wonderful in what good stead their rifles
had stood them, and it was thanks to them, and not to the Government,
that the town had been saved at all.
The difficulties both at Kimberley and Mafeking were the result of the
obstructive policy adopted by the Colonial Government before the
outbreak of hostilities. While the storm-cloud hung on the horizon,
Kimberley had appealed to Mr. Schreiner for permission to send up from
Port Elizabeth Maxims which had been ordered by the De Beers Company,
and the licence was refused on the ground that there was no necessity to
strengthen the defences of the town. The appeals from Mafeking were
treated in much the same way, the authorities at the Cape suggesting
that there was no reason to believe that the situation demanded extra
precautions!
Ingenuity and pluck had been the backbone of British defence, not
British guns. An ordnance factory was established, and excellent shells
were cast, and even powder manufactured. Thus the alarm lest ammunition
should run out before the arrival of relief was allayed. The great
ambition of the garrison was to complete a 51/2-inch howitzer, and throw
"home-made shells from a home-made gun with home-made powder."
Major Baillie described with some pride the self-contained nature of the
community: "We have our bank, our ordnance factory, and our police; and
we flourish under a beneficent and remote autocracy. And now, as regards
the ordnance factory, it was started for the manufacture of shells for
our 7-pounder, for shot, brass and iron, for our antique cannon, and for
the adaptation of 5-pounder shells (left here by Dr. Jameson) to our
7-pounders by the addition of enlarged driving-bands. These have all
proved a complete success, and too much praise cannot be given to
Connely and Cloughlan of the Locomotive Department, who have organised
and run the factory. As great a triumph has been the manufacture of
powder and the invention of fuses by Lieutenant Daniels, British South
Africa Police and the Glamorgan Artillery Militia, which render us
secure against running short of ammunition. A gun also is being
manufactured, and will shortly be used. This factory is of long
standing, but the authorities had not allowed us to allude to its
existence."
Other manufactures, too, were commenced, for manufacture it must be
called--the art of making the poor skeletons, at one time known as
horses, into succulent meat. Some declared that the number of cats and
dogs was visibly thinning, but none dared pry too closely into the
workings of the wonderful machinery that fed them. A number of the
Protectorate Regiment's horses were slaughtered, and any others that
were shot by the enemy were passed on to the commissariat.
A soup-kitchen, under the supervision of Captain Wilson, was opened for
the purpose of supplying some 600 natives with nourishing food, and
rendering them contented with the vicissitudes of fate. The compound was
scarcely inviting, and resembled a third-rate haggis. In two great
boilers scraps of such meat as could be gathered together were simmered
down, and to this immense stockpot was added various meals, which gave
the mess the necessary consistency. The natives bought it eagerly at 6d.
a quart, and really rejoiced in it.
The blacks, indeed, suffered less than the whites. The latter were
paying a guinea a day for very scant fare, while the Baralongs, who were
earning from 1s. to 2s. 6d. a day, were able to sustain life on half
their wages, and save the rest to buy luxuries, a wife possibly, when
the stress of the siege was over. The young children suffered most of
all, for malaria and unsuitable food played havoc in the women's laager,
and the graveyard was filled with small victims to the Imperial cause.
About the middle of the month the Boers became abnormally active, and
for several days sounds of digging and picking suggested that they were
throwing out new trenches beyond those they already manned in the region
of the brickfields. The full significance of the activity was discovered
by Sergeant-Major Taylor, who--in charge of three pits which formed the
most advanced post--suddenly espied, some fifty yards in advance of the
limit of the Boer trenches, a hostile figure! The apparition wore a
German uniform, and Sergeant-Major Taylor was soon aware that the enemy
were intending to sap the British position. Colonel Baden-Powell was
informed of the impending danger, and at night a counter-sap extending
100 yards was thrown out, from which point it would be possible for the
besieged to fire on the new work. The tension of the situation was
extreme. Eighty yards only separated the combatants, and the enemy
continued to burrow, approaching little by little, while the British
continued to harass them in their labours by an active fusillade
whenever a chance presented itself. But the operations continued, and
every hour brought the Boers nearer. At last a night came when the enemy
had almost reached his goal, and, moreover, had moved the Creusot gun to
a position on the south-eastern heights so as to command the entire
area. With due precaution the defenders tried to occupy the advanced
posts, but the Boer firing was so correct and persistent that the
position was rendered untenable. Sergeant-Major Taylor, a splendid
fellow--who more than once had ventured eavesdropping to the edge of the
Boer trenches--and four others were mown down in their gallant efforts
to save the situation. The enemy, satisfied with his exertions in this
direction, now began to turn his attention to the forts in the rear--a
bad move, for while the Dutchmen hammered in that region the British
rapidly seized the occasion to construct a traverse across the mouth of
the sap. This, of course, was not carried forward without attracting the
attention of the enemy, who fired fast and furiously. But the task was
accomplished, after which the Boers and the British, worn out, rested
from their hostilities. For a day and a night the Boers were in
occupation of the advanced hole and the sap that had been carried from
it, but it was soon recaptured, and the connection made with the Boer
trenches blown up with dynamite.
On the 20th the Protectorate Regiment gave a dinner, which turned out to
be quite a luxurious repast. Invitations were supplemented by the
request to bring their own bread! Some of the officers shot a few
locust-birds, small as quail, which, when carved judiciously, went round
among the guests. Added to this there was a sucking pig, obtained none
knew whence, but nevertheless most welcome.
On the 22nd, Sergeant-Major Looney of the Commissariat was sentenced to
five years penal servitude for the misappropriation of comestibles and
stores, which had been going on for some time. The Commissariat was
reorganised by Captain Ryan (Army Service Corps) with untiring energy
and economy. To the soup-kitchen went everything, scraps of meat, or
hoof, meal, unsifted oats, bran, all were turned to account, and food of
a sustaining, if not luxurious kind, was provided for every one. At this
time the Boers were growing despondent, and began to doubt their chance
of forcing the town to surrender. From a conversation overheard by some
wary ones who had crept close to the enemy's trenches, it appeared that
President Steyn had urged Commandant Snyman to carry the town by storm,
and afterwards to come to the rescue of the Free Staters with his force,
but the Burghers had expressed their opinion that it was now too late to
take Mafeking--they should have done so the first week.
The inhabitants were very pleased with their own ingenuity, and in their
ordnance workshops the manufacture of shot and shell went on apace. The
mechanics of the railway works, by a system which seemed to act on the
lines of a conjuring trick, turned out from the shell-factory about
fifty rounds a day. No waste was allowed. Even the fragments of the
enemy's shells were utilised. These and scraps of cast iron were
purchased at twopence a pound for smelting, and twopence, it must be
remembered, was now a magnificent disbursement, as money was growing
more and more scarce. Curiously enough, the present foreman, Conolly,
was at one time manager of the shell department of the ordnance factory
at Pretoria, where he personally supervised the manufacture of the
larger shells. He now necessarily took a parental interest in the shells
flung into Mafeking by the Boers' Creusot gun, and also in those new
ones that were flung out of Mafeking as a result of his own and others'
inventive genius! A good deal of shelling took place, and that on the
23rd was said to be a salute in honour of Independence Day in the Orange
Free State. The inhabitants of Mafeking would not have grudged their
enemies the, to them, distressing attempt at festivity had they then
known that four days later the death-blow of that independence would be
struck, and the salute was destined to be the last in the history of the
Republics!
Fare was growing more and more meagre. Horse-flesh was diversified by
bread made from horse forage; water, to say the least of it, was
becoming interesting only to bacteriologists. The native population for
the most part starved; they now and then indulged in a raid and brought
back fat fare, which for a day or two had a visible effect upon their
ebon skeletons, but they brought it at the risk of their lives.
Uninterrupted deluges of rain made existence a perpetual misery, the
trenches and also the bomb-proof shelters were flooded, and the hapless
inhabitants, saturated, fled into the open, uncertain whether death by
fire was not preferable to death by water. The first, at all events,
promised to be expeditious, while the second offered prospects of
prolonged sousing and exquisite tortures of enduring rheumatism. Daily
the state of affairs became less tolerable. Typhoid and malaria stalked
abroad, and in the children's and women's laager diphtheria had set in.
On the 25th a message was received from the Queen. Its effect was
electrical. It was vastly heartening to feel and to know that the great
Sovereign herself knew and sympathised with the history of the struggles
and privations, the loyalty and pluck of this little hamlet in a remote
corner of Her Majesty's possessions. It seemed more possible now to
starve patriotically, and, with every mouthful of nauseating mule or
horse, to put aside personal discomfort and to remember the gracious
fact that each individual was a symbol, a sorry and dilapidated one
perhaps, but nevertheless a symbol of the majesty and might of Greater
Britain. In addition to the royal message there came two days later the
stimulating intelligence that Kimberley had been relieved, and that Lord
Roberts was advancing on Bloemfontein!
On Majuba Day, all made sure that some sort of attack might be expected,
and they prepared to welcome it with a salute from the new howitzer gun
which had engaged the genius of the siege arsenal. The Boers, however,
were quiet. A good deal of psalm-singing took place in the Boer camp,
while the besieged put the big gun through his paces.
Ash Wednesday was observed without sackcloth and ashes. Mafeking had
been enjoying Lenten abstinence for months past, and therefore when, at
the service on the following Sabbath, the parson reminded them that it
was the fast season, every one in the church enjoyed the joke so hugely
that smiles were with difficulty suppressed. As one of the congregation
afterwards suggested, they had had so much "Extra Special" fasting that
they ought to be let off Lenten obligations for five years.
[Illustration: SOUTH AFRICAN LIGHT HORSE (Trooper).
BRABANT'S HORSE (Trooper).
DUKE OF EDINBURGH'S VOLUNTEER RIFLES (Dispatch Rider).
Photos by J. E. Bruton, Cape Town.]