THE SIEGE OF KIMBERLEY (1899-1900)
The diamond-mines--Cecil Rhodes comes in--Streets
barricaded--Colonel Kekewich sends out the armoured train--Water
got from the De Beers Company’s mines--A job lot of shells--De
Beers can make shells too--Milner’s message--Beef or horse?--Long
Cecil--Labram killed--Shelter down the mines--A capture of
dainties--Major Rodger’s adventures--General French comes to the
rescue--Outposts astonished to see Lancers and New Zealanders.
Kimberley is the second largest town in Cape Colony, and is the great
diamond-mining district, having a population of about 25,000 whites.
Mr. Cecil Rhodes was the Chairman of the De Beers Mines Company, which
pays over a million a year in wages.
Kimberley could not at first believe war to be possible between the
Dutch and English, though they saw the regular troops putting up
earthworks and loopholed forts all round the town. Next a Town Guard
was formed to man the forts, while the 600 regulars and artillery were
to be camped in a central position ready for emergencies. Cecil Rhodes
arrived the last day the railway was open, and began at once to raise
a regiment at his own expense--the Kimberley Light Horse. All the
streets were blocked with barricades and barbed wires to prevent the
Boers rushing in. The main streets had a narrow opening left in the
centre guarded by volunteers, who had orders to let none pass without
a signed permit. Rhodes used to ride far out on the veldt, dressed in
white flannel trousers, though the Boers hated him, and would dearly
have liked to pot him at a safe distance.
Colonel Kekewich was in command--a man of Devon, and very popular with
his men. On the 24th of October they had their first taste of fighting,
when a patrol came across a force of Boers who were out with the object
of raiding the De Beers’ cattle. Kekewich, from his conning-tower,
could see his men in difficulties, and sent out the armoured train,
and the Boers were speedily dispersed. There were many wounded on both
sides, and the Mauser bullet was found to be able to drill a neat hole
through bone and muscle, in some cases without doing so much damage as
the old bullets of lower velocity in earlier wars.
At the beginning of the siege it was feared that water might fail, but
in three weeks the De Beers Company had contrived to supply the town
with water from an underground stream in one of their mines.
The bombardment began on the 7th of November, and, as at Mafeking, did
not do much damage, for the shells, being fired from Spytfontein, four
miles away, and being a “job lot” supplied to the Transvaal Government,
did not often reach the houses, and often forgot to burst. So that, it
is said, an Irish policeman, hearing a shell explode in the street near
him, remarked calmly to himself: “The blazes! and what will they be
playing at next?”
But by the 11th the Boers had brought their guns nearer, had found the
range, and were becoming a positive nuisance to quiet citizens.
Sunday was a day of rest and no shelling took place, but on other
days it began at daylight, and, with pauses for meals and a siesta,
continued till nine or ten o’clock at night. As usual, there were
extraordinary escapes. One shell just missed the dining-room of the
Queen’s Hotel, where a large company were at dinner, and, choosing the
pantry close beside it, killed two cats. Luckily there was time between
the sound of the gun and the arrival of the shell to get into cover.
The De Beers Company, having many clever engineers and artisans, soon
began to make their own shells, which had “With C. J. R.’s Compts.”
stamped upon them--rather a grim jest when they did arrive.
On the 28th November Colonel Scott Turner, who commanded the mounted
men, was killed in a sortie. He was a very brave, but rather reckless,
officer, and was shot dead close to the Boer fort.
Sometimes our own men would go out alone, spying and sniping, and in
many cases they were shot by their own comrades by mistake.
By December the milk-farms outside the town had been looted, and fresh
milk began to be very scarce; even tinned milk could not be bought
without a doctor’s order, countersigned by the military officer who was
in charge of the stores. The result was that many young children died.
At Christmas Sir Alfred Milner sent a message to Kimberley, wishing
them a _lucky_ Christmas. This gave the garrison matter for thought,
and the townsfolk wondered if England had forgotten their existence.
Those who could spent some time and care on their gardens, for they
tried to find a nice change from wurzels to beet, and even beans and
lettuce. For scurvy, the consequence of eating too much meat without
green stuff, had already threatened the town. Those who wanted food had
to go to the market hall and fetch it, showing a ticket which mentioned
how many persons were to be supplied. When horse-flesh first began to
be used by the officers, Colonel Peakman, presiding at mess, said
cheerfully: “Gentlemen, very sorry we can’t supply you all with beef
to-day. Beef this end, very nice joint of horse the other end. Please
try it.” But the officers all applied for beef, as the Colonel had
feared they would.
Then suddenly, when all had finished, he banged his hand on the table,
and said: “By Jove! I see I have made a mistake in the joints. This is
the capital joint of horse which I am carving! Dear! dear! I wanted
so to taste the horse, but--what! not so bad after all? Then you will
forgive me, I am sure, for being so stupid.”
All the same, some of them thought that the Colonel had made the
mistake on purpose, just to get them past the barrier of prejudice.
Towards the end of January the bombardment grew more severe; the shells
came from many quarters, and some were shrapnel, which caused many
wounds. The new gun made by the De Beers Company did its best to reply,
but it was only one against eight or nine. The Boers confessed that
they directed their fire to the centre of the town, where there were
mostly only women and children, for the men were away from home in the
forts or behind the earthworks. The townsfolk tried to improve their
shell-proof places, but most of them were deadly holes, hot and stuffy
beyond description, but that made by Mr. Rhodes around the Public
Gardens was far superior to the rest. The De Beers gun was named “Long
Cecil,” after Mr. Rhodes, and was about 10 feet long; it threw a shell
weighing 28 pounds. When it was first fired, the great question was,
“Will it burst?”
But the Boers were surprised, when they sat at breakfast in a safe
spot, to hear shells dropping around like ripe apples. That breakfast
was left unfinished, as an intercepted letter informed the garrison.
However, the Boers soon placed a bigger gun near Kimberley, and shells
began to fall in the market-place very freely.
In February the garrison had a great loss. The last shell of that day
fell into the Grand Hotel and killed George Labram, the De Beers chief
engineer. It was Labram who had arranged for the new water-supply, who
had made the new shells, and planned “Long Cecil.” He was to Kimberley
what Kondrachenko was to the Russians at Port Arthur--a man of many
inventions, an American, ready at all points. He had just gone upstairs
to wash before dinner, when a shell entered and cut him to ribbons, so
that he died instantly. A servant of the hotel was in his room at the
time, and was not touched.
Towards the middle of February notices signed by Cecil Rhodes were
posted up all over the town to the effect that women and children
should take shelter in the two big mines. So very soon the streets were
full of people running to the mines with babies, blankets, bread, and
bedding. The crowd was so great that it took from 5.30 p.m. to midnight
to lower them all down the shafts. Kimberley mine took more than 1,000,
the De Beers mine 1,500, and all were lowered without a single accident.
One day some natives came in with a story that the Boers had deserted
the fort Alexandersfontein. Spies were sent out to investigate, and
reported it to be a fact, so some of the Town Guard, with help from the
Lancashires, sallied out and took possession of the fort. A few Boers
who had been left there were wounded or taken prisoners.
“We will wait a bit in this fort, boys, to see what will turn up,”
said the Captain; and in a short time they saw four waggons coming
up, which were driven unsuspiciously right into his hands. Other
waggons followed, all full of most delicious dainties for Boer
stomachs, but likely to be received in starving Kimberley with greater
enthusiasm--such things as poultry, grain, butter, fresh vegetables,
and bacon. The waggons were drawn by fat bullocks--a sight for mirth
and jollity.
In the afternoon the poor Boers knew what they had missed, and some
very spiteful bullets were sent across for several hours.
Major Rodger had sent some men to spy out the country, and was waiting
for their return. Presently he saw two men advancing towards him, and
thinking they were his own men he rode up to them. On drawing near
he saw they were Boers. His main body of men were far behind, and he
realized that if he galloped away he would be shot, so he quietly
walked his horse up to them. One of the Boers said: “Who are you?”
“Only one of the fighting-men from Kimberley,” the Major replied. They
did not draw their revolvers, they did not cry “Hands up!” and seize
him by the collar--no, all they did was to utter a brief swear, turn
their horses’ heads, and scamper over the veldt as fast as they could,
stooping over the pommel to avoid the Major’s fire. But half a mile
away they hit upon some of their own comrades, fired a few volleys,
broke the Major’s arm, and retired.
Major Rodger, however, had not done his day’s work, and never told his
men he had been shot until they returned to Kimberley in the evening.
So much for a Kimberley volunteer!
Meanwhile, the little folks and the women deep down in the mine--some
1,500 feet--were busy devouring sandwiches of corned-beef and horse,
and buckets of tea and coffee, with condensed milk, were lowered down
too. The large chamber cut out of the rock was lit with electric light,
and was not very hot, though it was crammed with children, many of
whom were lying on rugs or blankets; they lay so thick on the floor
that walking amongst them was the feat of an acrobat. But they were
safe down there! No ghastly sights of mangled limbs met their gaze, no
whizz of deadly shell, no scream of pain reached them there. It was
worth something to have escaped the horrors of a siege, and to feel no
nervous tremors, no cowardly panic, no dull despair.
Meanwhile Lord Roberts had not forgotten Kimberley. A force of some
5,000 sabres, led by General French, with two batteries of Horse
Artillery, had galloped in the dead of night to the Modder River. Here
a small Boer force fled from before them, and ever on through the
quivering heat rode Hussars, Dragoons, and Lancers, until both men and
horses fell out exhausted on the veldt. On the third day they came
close to some kopjes, or hills, on which Boers were posted, who stared
in amazement at the sight of the 9th Lancers sweeping in open order
round the base of the hills. A hundred miles they had ridden with scant
food and scanter water, so that the Boers might have been still more
surprised to see many a trooper walking by his tired steed, and even
carrying the saddle.
Dr. Conan Doyle tells us that “a skirmish was in progress on the 15th
of February between a party of the Kimberley Light Horse and some
Boers, when a new body of horsemen, unrecognized by either side,
appeared upon the plain, and opened fire upon the enemy. One of the
strangers rode up to the Kimberley patrol, and said:
“‘What the dickens does K.L.H. mean on your shoulder-strap?’
“‘It means Kimberley Light Horse. Who are you?’
“‘I am one of the New Zealanders.’”
How puzzled that member of the Kimberley force must have been--a New
Zealander out on the African veldt!
Soon the little clouds of dust on the horizon drew hundreds of
townsfolk to the earthworks, and as the glint of spear-head and
scabbard flashed out of the cloud, and the besieged garrison knew their
troubles were over, men waved their hats and shouted, and tearful,
laughing ladies flocked round the first men who rode in, and nearly
pulled them out of the saddle. Then they set to and hauled the rest out
of the mines, finishing that job well by midnight.
For 124 days Kimberley had been besieged. The Boers had never once
attacked the town, though not more than 550 mounted men were latterly
available for offensive work; these, with the Town Guard, Lancashires,
and Kimberley Rifles, made a total of 3,764. Colonel Kekewich might
well look radiantly happy; he had administered everything with strict
justice, and had earned the respect and admiration of all, while Cecil
Rhodes and the De Beers officials had magnificently met and countered
every difficulty with generous skill and unflagging energy.