ALONG THE SOUTHERN FRONTIER
East London: November 5, 1899.
We have left Headquarters busy with matters that as yet concern no one
but themselves in the Mount Nelson Hotel at Cape Town--a most excellent
and well-appointed establishment, which may be thoroughly appreciated
after a sea voyage, and which, since many of the leading Uitlanders have
taken up their abode there during the war, is nicknamed 'The Helot's
Rest.' Last night I started by rail for East London, whence a small ship
carries the weekly English mail to Natal, and so by this circuitous
route I hope to reach Ladysmith on Sunday morning. We have thus gained
three days on our friends who proceed by the 'Dunottar Castle,' and who
were mightily concerned when they heard--too late to follow--of our
intentions. But though it is true in this case that the longest way
round is the shortest way, there were possibilities of our journey being
interrupted, because the line from De Aar Junction to Naauwpoort runs
parallel to the southern frontier of the Free State, and though hostile
enterprises have not yet been attempted against this section of the
railways they must always be expected.
Railway travelling in South Africa is more expensive but just as
comfortable as in India. Lying-down accommodation is provided for all,
and meals can be obtained at convenient stopping places. The train,
which is built on the corridor system, runs smoothly over the rails--so
smoothly, indeed, that I found no difficulty in writing. The sun is
warm, and the air keen and delicious. But the scenery would depress the
most buoyant spirits. We climbed up the mountains during the night, and
with the daylight the train was in the middle of the Great Karroo.
Wherefore was this miserable land of stone and scrub created? Huge
mounds of crumbling rock, fashioned by the rains into the most curious
and unexpected shapes, rise from the gloomy desert of the plain. Yet,
though the Karroo looks a hopeless wilderness, flocks of sheep at
distant intervals--one sheep requires six hundred acres of this scrappy
pasture for nourishment--manage to subsist; and in consequence, now and
again the traveller sees some far-off farm.
We look about eagerly for signs of war. Little is as yet to be seen, and
the Karroo remains unsympathetic. But all along the southern frontier of
the Free State the expectation of early collision grows. The first sign
after leaving Cape Town is the Proclamation against treason published by
Sir Alfred Milner. The notice-boards of the railway stations are freely
placarded with the full text in English and Dutch, beginning with
'Whereas a state of war exists between the Government of her Majesty and
the Governments of the South African Republic and of the Orange Free
State ...' continuing to enjoin good and loyal behaviour on all,
detailing the pains and penalties for disobedience, and ending with 'God
save the Queen.' Both races have recorded their opinions on their
respective versions: the British by underlining the penalties, the Dutch
by crossing out the first word of 'God Save the Queen.' It is signed 'A.
Milner,' and below, in bitter irony, 'W.P. Schreiner.'
Beyond Matjesfontein every bridge, and even every culvert, is watched by
a Kaffir with a flag, so that the train runs no risk of coming on
unexpected demolitions. On the road to De Aar we passed the second half
of the Brigade Division of Artillery, which sailed so long ago from the
Mersey in the notorious transports 'Zibengla' and 'Zayathla.' The
gunners were hurrying to the front in three long trains, each taking
half a battery complete with guns, horses, and men. All were
light-hearted and confident, as soldiers going off to the wars always
are, and in this case their, satisfaction at being on land after five
weeks of uncomfortable voyage in antiquated ships was easily to be
understood. But this is no time for reproaches.
At Beaufort West grave news awaited the mail, and we learned of the
capitulation of twelve hundred soldiers near Ladysmith. It is generally
believed that this will precipitate a rising of the Dutch throughout
this part of the colony and an invasion by the commandos now gathered
along the Orange River. The Dutch farmers talk loudly and confidently of
'our victories,' meaning those of the Boers, and the racial feeling runs
high. But the British colonists have an implicit faith--marvellous when
the past is remembered--in the resolve of the Imperial Government and of
the nation never to abandon them again.
At De Aar the stage of our journey which may be said to have been
uncertain began. Armoured trains patrol the line; small parties of armed
police guard the bridges; infantry and artillery detachments occupy the
towns. De Aar, Colesberg, and Stormberg are garrisoned as strongly as
the present limited means allow, and all the forces, regulars and
volunteers alike, are full of enthusiasm. But, on the other hand, the
reports of Boer movements seem to indicate that a hostile advance is
imminent. The Colesberg bridge across the Orange River has been seized
by the enemy, the line between Bethulie and Colesberg has just been cut,
and each train from De Aar to Stormberg is expected to be the last to
pass unassailed. We, however, slept peacefully through the night, and,
passing Colesberg safely, arrived at Stormberg, beyond which all is
again secure.
Stormberg Junction stands at the southern end of a wide expanse of
rolling grass country, and though the numerous rocky hills, or kopjes as
they are called, which rise inconveniently on all sides, make its
defence by a small force difficult, a large force occupying an extended
position would be secure. Here we found the confirmation of many
rumours. The news of a Boer advance on Burghersdorp, twenty-five miles
away, is, it seems, well founded, and when our train arrived the
evacuation of Stormberg by its garrison, of a half-battalion of the
Berkshire Regiment, 350 men of the Naval Brigade, a company of mounted
infantry, and a few guns, was busily proceeding.
The sailors were already in their train, and only prevented from
starting by the want of an engine. The infantry and artillery were to
start in a few hours. It is rather an unsatisfactory business, though
the arrival of more powerful forces will soon restore the situation.
Stormberg is itself an important railway junction. For more than a week
the troops have been working night and day to put it in a state of
defence. Little redoubts have been built on the kopjes, entrenchments
have been dug, and the few houses near the station are already strongly
fortified. I was shown one of these by the young officer in charge. The
approaches were, cleared of everything except wire fences and
entanglements; the massive walls were loopholed, the windows barricaded
with sandbags, and the rooms inside broken one into the other for
convenience in moving about.
Its garrison of twenty-five men and its youthful commander surveyed the
work with pride. They had laid in stores of all kinds for ten days, and
none doubted that Fort Chabrol, as they called it, would stand a gallant
siege. Then suddenly had come the message to evacuate and retreat. So it
was with the others. The train with the naval detachment and its guns
steamed off, and we gave it a feeble cheer. Another train awaited the
Berkshires. The mounted infantry were already on the march. 'Mayn't we
even blow up this lot?' said a soldier, pointing to the house he had
helped to fortify. But there was no such order, only this one
which seemed to pervade the air: 'The enemy are coming.
Retreat--retreat--retreat!' The stationmaster--one of the best types of
Englishmen to be found on a long journey--was calm and cheerful.
'No more traffic north of this,' he said. 'Yours was the last train
through from De Aar. I shall send away all my men by the special
to-night. And that's the end as far as Stormberg goes.'
'And you?'
'Oh, I shall stay. I have lived here for twelve years, and am well
known. Perhaps I may be able to protect the company's property.'
While we waited the armoured train returned from patrolling--an engine
between two carriages cloaked from end to end with thick plates and
slabs of blue-grey iron. It had seen nothing of the advancing Boers,
but, like us and like the troops, it had to retire southwards. There
were fifty Uitlanders from Johannesburg on the platform. They had been
employed entrenching; now they were bundled back again towards East
London.
So we left Stormberg in much anger and some humiliation, and jolted away
towards the open sea, where British supremacy is not yet contested by
the Boer. At Molteno we picked up a hundred volunteers--fine-looking
fellows all eager to encounter the enemy, but much surprised at the turn
events had taken. They, too, were ordered to fall back. The Boers were
advancing, and to despondent minds even the rattle of the train seemed
to urge 'Retreat, retreat, retreat.'
I do not desire to invest this wise and prudent though discouraging move
with more than its proper importance. Anything is better than to leave
small garrisons to be overwhelmed. Until the Army Corps comes, the
situation will continue to be unsatisfactory, and the ground to be
recovered afterwards will increase in extent. But with the arrival of
powerful and well-equipped forces the tide of war will surely turn.