A CRUISE IN THE ARMOURED TRAIN
Estcourt: November 9, 1899.
How many more letters shall I write you from an unsatisfactory address?
Sir George White's Headquarters are scarcely forty miles away, but
between them and Estcourt stretches the hostile army. Whether it may be
possible or wise to try to pass the lines of investment is a question
which I cannot yet decide; and meanwhile I wait here at the nearest post
collecting such information as dribbles through native channels, and
hoping that early events may clear the road. To wait is often weary
work--but even at this exciting time I come to a standstill at length
with a distinct feeling of relief. The last month has been passed in
continual travel. The fading, confused faces at Waterloo as the train
swept along the platform; the cheering crowds at Southampton; the
rolling decks of the 'Dunottar Castle;' the suspense, the excitement of
first news; a brief day's scurry at Cape Town; the journey to East
London by the last train to pass along the frontier; the tumultuous
voyage in the 'Umzimvubu' amid so great a gale that but for the Royal
Mail the skipper would have put back to port; on without a check to
Pietermaritzburg, and thence, since the need seemed urgent and the
traffic slow, by special train here--all moving, restless pictures--and
here at last--a pause.
Let us review the situation. On Wednesday last, on November 1, the Boer
lines of investment drew round Ladysmith. On Thursday the last train
passed down the railway under the fire of artillery. That night the line
was cut about four miles north of Colenso. Telegraphic communication
also ceased. On Friday Colenso was itself attacked. A heavy gun came
into action from the hills which dominate the town, and the slender
garrison of infantry volunteers and naval brigade evacuated in a hurry,
and, covered to some extent by the armoured train, fell back on
Estcourt.
Estcourt is a South African town--that is to say, it is a collection of
about three hundred detached stone or corrugated iron houses, nearly all
one-storied, arranged along two broad streets--for space is
plentiful--or straggling away towards the country. The little place lies
in a cup of the hills, which rise in green undulations on all sides. For
this reason it will be a very difficult place to defend if the invaders
should come upon it. It is, besides, of mean and insignificant aspect;
but, like all these towns in Natal, it is the centre of a large
agricultural district, at once the market and the storehouse of dozens
of prosperous farms scattered about the country, and consequently it
possesses more importance than the passing stranger would imagine.
Indeed, it was a surprise to find on entering the shops how great a
variety and quantity of goods these unpretentious shanties contained.
Estcourt now calls itself 'The Front.' There is another front forty
miles away, but that is ringed about by the enemy, and since we live in
expectation of attack, with no one but the Boers beyond the outpost
line, Estcourt considers that its claim is just, Colonel Wolfe Murray,
the officer who commands the lines of communication of the Natal Field
Force, hastened up as soon as the news of the attack on Colenso was
received to make preparation to check the enemy's advance.
The force at his disposal is not, however, large--two British
battalions--the Dublin Fusiliers, who fought at Glencoe, and were
hurried out of Ladysmith to strengthen the communications when it became
evident that a blockade impended, and the Border Regiment from Malta, a
squadron of the Imperial Light Horse, 300 Natal volunteers with 25
cyclists, and a volunteer battery of nine-pounder guns--perhaps 2,000
men in all. With so few it would be quite impossible to hold the long
line of hills necessary for the protection of the town, but a position
has been selected and fortified, where the troops can maintain
themselves--at any rate for several days. But the confidence of the
military authorities in the strength of Estcourt may be gauged by the
frantic efforts they are making to strengthen Pietermaritzburg,
seventy-six miles, and even Durban, one hundred and thirty miles further
back, by earthworks and naval guns. 'The Boers invade Natal!' exclaims
Mr. Labouchere in the number of 'Truth' current out here. 'As likely
that the Chinese army should invade London.' But he is not the only
false prophet.
It seems, however, certain that a considerable force will be moved here
soon to restore the situation and to relieve Ladysmith. Meanwhile we
wait, not without anxiety or impatience. The Imperial Horse, a few
mounted infantry, the volunteer cyclists, and the armoured train, patrol
daily towards Colenso and the north, always expecting to see the
approaching Boer commandos. Yesterday I travelled with the armoured
train. This armoured train is a very puny specimen, having neither gun
nor Maxims, with no roof to its trucks and no shutters to its
loopholes, and being in every way inferior to the powerful machines I
saw working along the southern frontier. Nevertheless it is a useful
means of reconnaissance, nor is a journey in it devoid of interest. An
armoured train! The very name sounds strange; a locomotive disguised as
a knight-errant; the agent of civilisation in the habiliments of
chivalry. Mr. Morley attired as Sir Lancelot would seem scarcely more
incongruous. The possibilities of attack added to the keenness of the
experience. We started at one o'clock. A company of the Dublin Fusiliers
formed the garrison. Half were in the car in front of the engine, half
in that behind. Three empty trucks, with a platelaying gang and spare
rails to mend the line, followed. The country between Estcourt and
Colenso is open, undulating, and grassy. The stations, which occur every
four or five miles, are hamlets consisting of half a dozen corrugated
iron houses, and perhaps a score of blue gum trees. These little specks
of habitation are almost the only marked feature of the landscape,
which on all sides spreads in pleasant but monotonous slopes of green.
The train maintained a good speed; and, though it stopped repeatedly to
question Kaffirs or country folk, and to communicate with the cyclists
and other patrols who were scouring the country on the flanks, reached
Chieveley, five miles from Colenso, by about three o'clock; and from
here the Ladysmith balloon, a brown speck floating above and beyond the
distant hills, was plainly visible.
Beyond Chieveley it was necessary to observe more caution. The speed was
reduced--the engine walked warily. The railway officials scanned the
track, and often before a culvert or bridge was traversed we disembarked
and examined it from the ground. At other times long halts were made
while the officers swept the horizon and the distant hills with field
glasses and telescopes. But the country was clear and the line
undamaged, and we continued our slow advance. Presently Colenso came
into view--a hundred tin-pot houses under the high hills to the
northward. We inspected it deliberately. On a mound beyond the village
rose the outline of the sandbag fort constructed by the Naval Brigade.
The flagstaff, without the flag, still stood up boldly. But, so far as
we could tell, the whole place was deserted.
There followed a discussion. Perhaps the Boers were lying in wait for
the armoured train; perhaps they had trained a gun on some telegraph
post, and would fire the moment the engine passed it; or perhaps, again,
they were even now breaking the line behind us. Some Kaffirs approached
respectfully, saluting. A Natal Volunteer--one of the cyclists--came
forward to interrogate. He was an intelligent little man, with a
Martini-Metford rifle, a large pair of field glasses, a dainty pair of
grey skin cycling shoes, and a slouch hat. He questioned the natives,
and reported their answers. The Kaffirs said that the Dutchmen were
assuredly in the neighbourhood. They had been seen only that morning.
'How many?' The reply was vague--twelve, or seventeen, or one thousand;
also they had a gun--or five guns--mounted in the old fort, or on the
platform of the station, or on the hill behind the town. At daylight
they had shelled Colenso. 'But why,' we asked, 'should they shell
Colenso?' Evidently to make sure of the range of some telegraph post.
'It only takes one shell to do the trick with the engine,' said the
captain who commanded. 'Got to hit us first, though,' he added. 'Well,
let's get a little bit nearer.'
The electric bell rang three times, and we crept forward--halted--looked
around, forward again--halt again--another look round; and so, yard by
yard, we approached Colenso. Half a mile away we stopped finally. The
officer, taking a sergeant with him, went on towards the village on
foot. I followed. We soon reached the trenches that had been made by the
British troops before they evacuated the place. 'Awful rot giving this
place up,' said the officer. 'These lines took us a week to dig.' From
here Colenso lay exposed about two hundred yards away--a silent,
desolate village. The streets were littered with the belongings of the
inhabitants. Two or three houses had been burned. A dead horse lay in
the road, his four legs sticking stiffly up in the air, his belly
swollen. The whole place had evidently been ransacked and plundered by
the Boers and the Kaffirs. A few natives loitered near the far end of
the street, and one, alarmed at the aspect of the train, waved a white
rag on a stick steadily to and fro. But no Dutchmen were to be seen. We
made our way back to the railway line and struck it at the spot where it
was cut. Two lengths of rails had been lifted up, and, with the sleepers
attached to them, flung over the embankment. The broken telegraph wires
trailed untidily on the ground. Several of the posts were twisted. But
the bridge across the Tugela was uninjured, and the damage to the lines
was such as could be easily repaired. The Boers realise the advantage of
the railway. At this moment, with their trains all labelled 'To Durban,'
they are drawing supplies along it from Pretoria to within six miles of
Ladysmith. They had resolved to use it in their further advance, and
their confidence in the ultimate issue is shown by the care with which
they avoid seriously damaging the permanent way. We had learned all that
there was to learn--where the line was broken, that the village was
deserted, that the bridge was safe, and we made haste to rejoin the
train. Then the engine was reversed, and we withdrew out of range of the
hills beyond Colenso at full speed--and some said that the Boers did not
fire because they hoped to draw us nearer, and others that there were no
Boers within ten miles.
On the way back I talked with the volunteer. He was friendly and
communicative. 'Durban Light Infantry,' he said; 'that's my corps. I'm a
builder myself by trade--nine men under me. But I had to send them all
away when I was called out. I don't know how I'm going on when I get
back after it's over. Oh, I'm glad to come. I wish I was in Ladysmith.
You see these Dutchmen have come quite far enough into our country. The
Imperial Government promised us protection. You've seen what protection
Colenso got; Dundee and Newcastle, just the same; I don't doubt they've
tried their best, and I don't blame them; but we want help here badly. I
don't hold with a man crying out for help unless he makes a start
himself, so I came out. I'm a cyclist. I've got eight medals at home for
cycling.'
'How will you like a new one--with the Queen's head on it?'
His eye brightened.
'Ah,' he said, 'I should treasure that more than all the other
eight--even more than the twenty-mile championship one.'
So we rattled back to Estcourt through the twilight; and the long car,
crowded with brown-clad soldiers who sprawled smoking on the floor or
lounged against the sides, the rows of loopholes along the iron walls,
the black smoke of the engine bulging overhead, the sense of headlong
motion, and the atmosphere of war made the volunteer seem perhaps more
than he was; and I thought him a true and valiant man, who had come
forward in time of trouble quietly and soberly to bear his part in
warfare, and who was ready, if necessary, to surrender his humble life
in honourably sustaining the quarrel of the State. Nor do I care to
correct the impression now.