IN NATAL
Estcourt: November 6, 1899.
The reader may remember that we started post haste from Cape Town, and,
having the good fortune to pass along the southern frontier from De Aar
to Stormberg by the last train before the interruption of traffic, had
every hope of reaching Ladysmith while its investment was incomplete. I
had looked forward to writing an account of our voyage from East London
to Durban while on board the vessel; but the weather was so tempestuous,
and the little steamer of scarcely 100 tons burthen so buffeted by the
waves, that I lay prostrate in all the anguish of sea-sickness, and had
no thought for anything else. Moreover, we were delayed some twenty
hours by contrary winds; nor was it until we had passed St. John's that
the gale, as if repenting, veered suddenly to the south-west and added
as much to our speed as it had formerly delayed us. With the change of
the wind the violence of the waves to some degree abated, and, though
unable to then record them on paper, I had an opportunity of gaining
some impressions of the general aspect of the coasts of Pondoland and
Natal. These beautiful countries stretch down to the ocean in smooth
slopes of the richest verdure, broken only at intervals by lofty bluffs
crowned with forests. The many rivulets to which the pasture owes its
life and the land its richness glide to the shore through deep-set
creeks and chines, or plunge over the cliffs in cascades which the
strong winds scatter into clouds of spray.
These are regions of possibility, and as we drove along before our now
friendly wind I could not but speculate on the future. Here are wide
tracts of fertile soil watered by abundant rains. The temperate sun
warms the life within the soil. The cooling breeze refreshes the
inhabitant. The delicious climate stimulates the vigour of the European.
The highway of the sea awaits the produce of his labour. All Nature
smiles, and here at last is a land where white men may rule and prosper.
As yet only the indolent Kaffir enjoys its bounty, and, according to the
antiquated philosophy of Liberalism, it is to such that it should for
ever belong. But while Englishmen choke and fester in crowded cities,
while thousands of babies are born every month who are never to have a
fair chance in life, there will be those who will dream another dream of
a brave system of State-aided--almost State-compelled--emigration, a
scheme of old age pensions that shall anticipate old age, and by
preventing paupers terminate itself; a system that shall remove the
excess of the old land to provide the deficiency of the new, and shall
offer even to the most unfortunate citizen of the Empire fresh air and
open opportunity. And as I pondered on all these things, the face of the
country seemed changed. Thriving ports and townships rose up along the
shore, and, upon the hillsides, inland towers, spires, and tall chimneys
attested the wealth and industry of men. Here in front of us was New
Brighton; the long shelving ledge of rock was a seawall already made,
rows of stately buildings covered the grassy slopes; the shipping of
many nations lay in the roadstead; above the whole scene waved The Flag,
and in the foreground on the sandy beach the great-grandchildren of the
crossing-sweeper and the sandwich-man sported by the waves that beat by
the Southern Pole, or sang aloud for joy in the beauty of their home and
the pride of their race. And then with a lurch--for the motion was still
considerable--I came back from the land of dreams to reality and the
hideous fact that Natal is invaded and assailed by the Boer.
The little steamer reached Durban safely at midnight on November 4, and
we passed an impatient six hours in a sleeping town waiting for daylight
and news. Both came in their turn. The sun rose, and we learned that
Ladysmith was cut off. Still, 'As far as you can as quickly as you can'
must be the motto of the war correspondent, and seven o'clock found us
speeding inland in the extra coach of a special train carrying the
mails. The hours I passed in Durban were not without occupation. The
hospital ship 'Sumatra' lay close to our moorings, and as soon as it was
light I visited her to look for friends, and found, alas! several in a
sorry plight. All seemed to be as well as the tenderest care and the
most lavish expenditure of money could make them. All told much the same
tale--the pluck and spirit of the troops, the stubborn unpretentious
valour of the Boer, the searching musketry. Everyone predicted a
prolonged struggle.
'All these colonials tell you,' said an officer severely wounded at
Elandslaagte, 'that the Boers only want one good thrashing to satisfy
them. Don't you believe it. They mean going through with this to the
end. What about our Government?'
And the answer that all were united at home, and that Boer constancy
would be met with equal perseverance and greater resources, lighted the
pain-drawn features with a hopeful smile.
'Well, I never felt quite safe with those politicians. I can't get about
for two months' (he was shot through the thigh), 'but I hope to be in at
the death. It's our blood against theirs.'
Pietermaritzburg is sixty miles from Durban, but as the railway zigzags
up and down hill and contorts itself into curves that would horrify the
domestic engineer, the journey occupies four hours. The town looks more
like Ootacamund than any place I have seen. To those who do not know the
delightful hill station of Southern India let me explain that
Pietermaritzburg stands in a basin of smooth rolling downs, broken
frequently by forests of fir and blue gum trees. It is a sleepy,
dead-alive place. Even the fact that Colonel Knowle, the military
engineer, was busily putting it into a state of defence, digging up its
hills, piercing its walls, and encircling it with wire obstructions did
not break its apathy. The 'Times of Natal' struggled to rouse
excitement, and placarded its office with the latest telegrams from the
front, some of which had reached Pietermaritzburg _via_ London. But the
composure of the civil population is a useful factor in war, and I wish
it were within the power of my poor pen to bring home to the people of
England how excellently the colonists of Natal have deserved of the
State.
There are several points to be remembered in this connection. First, the
colonists have had many dealings with the Boers. They knew their
strength, they feared their animosity. But they have never for one
moment lost sight of their obligations as a British colony. Their
loyalty has been splendid. From the very beginning they warned the
Imperial Government that their territories would be invaded. Throughout
the course of the long negotiations they knew that if war should come,
on them would fall the first fury of the storm. Nevertheless, they
courageously supported and acclaimed the action of the Ministry. Now at
last there is war. It means a good deal to all of us, but more than to
any it comes home to the Natalian. He is invaded; his cattle have been
seized by the Boer; his towns are shelled or captured; the most powerful
force on which he relies for protection is isolated in Ladysmith; his
capital is being loopholed and entrenched; Newcastle has been abandoned,
Colenso has fallen, Estcourt is threatened; the possibility that the
whole province will be overrun stares him in the face. From the
beginning he asked for protection. From the beginning he was promised
complete protection; but scarcely a word of complaint is heard. The
townsfolk are calm and orderly, the Press dignified and sober. The men
capable of bearing arms have responded nobly. Boys of sixteen march with
men of fifty to war--to no light easy war. All the volunteers are in the
field bearing their full share of the fighting like men. Nor are the
Outlanders backward in their own quarrel. The Imperial Light Infantry is
eagerly filled. The Imperial Light Horse can find no more vacancies,
not even for those who will serve without pay.
I talked with a wounded Gordon Highlander--one of those who dashed
across the famous causeway of Dargai and breasted the still more
glorious slope of Elandslaagte.
'We had the Imperial Horse with us,' he said. 'They're the best I've
ever seen.'
The casualty lists tell the same tale. To storm the hill the regiment
dismounted less than two hundred men. They reached the top unchecked,
their Colonel, their Adjutant, Lieutenant Barnes, seven other officers,
and upwards of sixty men killed or wounded--nearly 30 per cent. Many of
this corps came from Johannesburg. After this who will dare call
Outlanders cowards? Not that it will ever matter again.
Viewed in quieter days, the patient, trustful attitude of this colony of
Natal will impress the historian. The devotion of its people to their
Sovereign and to their motherland should endear them to all good
Englishmen, and win them general respect and sympathy; and full
indemnity to all individual colonists who have suffered loss must stand
as an Imperial debt of honour.