The reason for all this hurry-scurry became plain when we learnt that De
Wet, tired of playing at hide-and-seek with the enemy on the other side
of the Vaal, had crossed over and passed by Potchefstroom the night
before. It was into the pursuing force that we had ridden.
Reaching the laager, we found the majority of our comrades there. Of the
fate of those who had delayed to leave the town we were ignorant. The
laager inspanned and followed De Wet, who had just passed here, and
after a few hours' rapid trekking caught up to him. A halt was called
for breakfast, but before the water boiled for coffee the enemy came in
sight behind us. The cattle were rapidly driven together, oxen yoked and
horses saddled, and in about three minutes' time we were on the move
once more. De Wet's force and our own combined comprised nearly three
thousand men, with six hundred waggons and carts, forming a train that
made a splendid target for the British gunners.
There was not much difficulty in keeping the enemy back, but still they
hung on persistently, worrying us day after day, until our horses, and
even the tougher mules, began to drop in the road, and our men to grow
weary of the saddle.
The oxen bore up best of all; we now made the discovery that they could
trot just as well as mules, and with less effort. But even they felt the
strain.
As far as we went the road we left behind us was littered with abandoned
animals. It was pitiful to see these dumb creatures try to drag
themselves after us, as if they too feared the pursuing foe. But still
the weary march went on, night and day, until a numbed indifference
settled over us.
Shells fell to the right and left unnoticed; was the apathy, not of
despair, for our faith would never let us feel that, but of sheer and
utter exhaustion.
Haggard men, sunk in slumber, beat a mechanical tattoo on their horses'
ribs as the gaunt animals dazedly staggered forward. And now came the
stunning news that Prinsloo, Prinsloo with 4,000 men, had surrendered!
Only one hope sustained us--the Magaliesberg. There we would find
shelter and rest.
But Clements was lying in wait for us there, waiting for us to walk
blindly into the trap he had set. Well was it for our straggling train
that Delarey came dashing down on Clements in the night, slaying and
capturing right and left, till the British general was glad to take
refuge in entrenched Pretoria! Else we were surely taken and the war
ended. When at last we struggled over Olifant's Nek, it was to find the
pass held by friends, not foes, many signs of the enemy's occupation,
from plundered farm-houses to hundreds of biscuit tins, strewing the
ground.
Our waggons were drawn up in a line behind the mountain, and we manned
the passes, confident in our ability to hold them. But we were too
wearied, and the enemy too persistent. On the third day they forced the
weaker of the passes, and we were forced to fly once more. Had the
British continued their stern chase our capture were almost certain;
strange to say, with success within their grasp, they held their hand,
halted, and followed us no further. In the retreat the Free State and
the Transvaal commandoes took different directions, myself remaining
with the latter. We marched all night, past frowning kopjes, and camped
in a thick mimosa forest at dawn.
Here the commando decided to remain for a while. I obtained a pass from
Liebenberg and set off alone to make my way through the dense bush to
Middelburg.
The first day I discovered De Wet's "meagre commando," about a thousand
men, who had been ordered to conceal themselves here and feed up their
animals, whilst De Wet himself, with the other half of his force,
scoured the country to within ten miles of Johannesburg.
In the evening I arrived at a mission station, where the only whites
were the missionary's young daughter and her youthful brother. Their
father had left for a visit shortly before the war broke out, and had
not been able to return. They themselves had done the mission work,
unaided, through all these anxious months. And remember that at this
time the bushveld Kafirs were waging war amongst themselves!
The next day I encountered a couple of waggons laden with ammunition for
Delarey. The escort told me they had left Middelburg eighteen days
before. Making circuits to avoid the enemy and taking wrong roads had
delayed them.
Then--it is wonderful how news travels amongst the Kafirs--I heard that
Steyn was also somewhere in the bush, on the way to join the Transvaal
Government. Fortunately for me, I rode right into his party that
evening, just as they were starting off again. I had only off-saddled
once since sunrise, but the chance was too good to be missed, and I
joined them. The party consisted of barely fifty men--not an extravagant
escort, but sufficient, under the circumstances.
We travelled till midnight, halted for an hour, and then forward again
till sunrise, when we crossed the Pienaar's River. Here we found a
fair-sized commando under a general whose name I forget, as that was the
only time I ever heard it. He was expecting an attack, the waggons were
already retreating. We halted long enough to prepare breakfast, during
which time the President shot a few bush doves. Hardly had we finished
the meal when the rat-tat, rat-tat of small-arms showed that the British
were approaching. Then a Maxim rattled forth amongst the rocks, and
warned us that the action had begun in earnest.
The commando kept the enemy back just long enough to give us a decent
start, and then retired. We afterwards learnt that this British
force--under Barnum-Powell, of Tarascon--had been sent out from Pretoria
expressly to intercept us. It was a close thing--had the enemy been a
little smarter they might have had us. As it was, we doubled away under
cover of the bush, and were soon out of reach.
Now followed a week of rapid trekking, varied with a little shooting now
and then at the partridges and bright-plumaged birds that abound in the
bushveld, and once relieved by the sight of a magnificent bush fire, a
sea of roaring flame. I must not forget our banjoist, who of nights
beguiled our careworn chief with cheery marches, quicksteps, and comic
songs. Finally we emerge upon the _hoogeveld_ of Middelburg, to find the
town in the enemy's hands. We make for Roossenekal. Again the British
are before us. We turn away towards Machadodorp. As we near the village
Schalk Burger comes out to meet us. He and Steyn speak earnestly
together. Burger is more silent, more taciturn than ever. We push on,
and reach Machadodorp, where a train is in waiting. The station is
crowded with Transvaalers, all eager to shake their gallant Free State
brethren by the hand. The President and party enter the carriage, the
engine whistles, and the train speeds down to Waterval Onder, where Paul
Kruger and his advisers are impatiently awaiting its arrival.