With a brief but resolute gesture, I took off my hat in farewell to the
City of Gold. With a few necessaries rolled up in a cloak, I succeeded
in passing through the English lines at Boksburg, after journeying for
three days, sometimes in friendly carts, sometimes on foot, to escape
attention.
Near the level crossing of the railway at Boksburg a party of Lancers
was encamped. Putting on the tranquil and indifferent air of a man whose
conscience is at ease, I passed through them without molestation.
Further along the road there were two small outposts, which I was able
to avoid by passing over a dried-up pond.
When night came on, I slept at Benoni. Commandant Derksen, of the
Boksburg commando, was in the neighbourhood. I hoped to fall in with
him in the north-east. The nights began to be terribly cold.
At 4 a.m. on July 4 I was once more on my way. I walked till nine in
the evening. My feet were sore and bleeding.
I arrived at last at a farm, where I was coldly received at first; for
they took me for a spy. But when I showed the papers that constituted me
a Burgher, I was petted as if I had been a son of the house. They gave
me eggs, milk and biscuit, and offered me shelter for the night. As I
had no rug, and the cold was terrible, I accepted the offer with joy.
My hostess had three sons with Derksen, and a fourth with De Wet. The
fourth was Baby, as she called him, showing me the photograph of this
little Benjamin, who may have been about forty, and had a beard down to
his waist.
They were worthy folks, Boers of the old school, hospitable and
patriotic. They made me up a bed in a kind of old travelling carriage
in the coach-house, and after half an hour of fierce conflict with a
swarm of mice, I fell asleep.
Twice I was roused by further attacks from the rodents, and a third time
by a man with a long beard, who said:
'_Obsal!_'
I was a little surprised at first, but finally I grasped the situation.
A patrol commanded by one of the Bothas (a cousin of the Generalissimo),
had come to the farm at three in the morning. My hostess explained my
case, and they had sent to ask me if I would join them.
I agreed eagerly, and rapid preparations were at once made for my
equipment. They found me a lean hack, gave me a rug by way of saddle,
and two pieces of cord for stirrups, and armed me with a Lee-Metford
rifle, taken from the English a little while before! Don Quixote!
We consumed the usual coffee and biscuit, and started, taking a zigzag
route northwards towards Irene. Derksen was rather more to the east.
Towards nine in the evening we lay down to rest on the Veldt. I think I
never suffered as I did from the cold that night. It was freezing hard,
and I had nothing to cover me but the rug, which, soaked through with
the horse's sweat, was as stiff as a board in ten minutes. It was
impossible to sleep for a moment, and the pain became so intolerable
that I was obliged to walk about to warm myself a little; and then the
wounds on my feet, which were quite raw, made me suffer cruelly.
A few days later an officer of the first brigade of Mounted Infantry was
found frozen to death on bivouac, in spite of his blankets.
We started at daybreak on the 6th, making for a Kaffir kraal. At about
7.30 we heard three cannon-shots fired, but could not tell exactly from
what direction. Then there was silence again.
Towards eight o'clock a group of about fifteen horsemen in felt hats and
long dark overcoats came towards us, then, suddenly wheeling, went off
at a gallop. We were fourteen, all told.
When it reached the top of the kopje, the party disappeared, and when,
in our turn, we rose above the crest, we were received with a fusillade.
There were about forty men, some 400 metres from us. We turned back
hastily, to put our horses in shelter on the other side, and then
replied.
A Burgher was wounded in the head. We had the cover of the rocks to
protect us, and, in spite of our inferior numbers, the two sides were
about equal. Then another Burgher and my neighbour were wounded almost
simultaneously, the latter in the thigh, probably by a ricochet. His
wound was serious. I took his Mauser and his cartridges from him.
I am not very sure how long this little game had been going on, perhaps
ten minutes. Suddenly we heard shots behind us. One of our horses fell;
Botha got a bullet right through him. We were surrounded by about 300
men of the Imperial Light Horse. There was nothing to be done. A
Burgher named Marais held up a white handkerchief. There were only ten
of us left. I was handed over to some English officers, who received me
with the greatest possible courtesy. As the action had now extended all
along the line, I was taken to the rear.
In the evening I was confided to the Connaught Rangers, who had been
kept in reserve. Hearing of my nationality and my former rank in the
French army, they said: 'We are allies now! We are making common cause
in China!' I made many inquiries about the events in the Far East, of
which we knew nothing, having held no communication with Europe since
April.
Hoping to be able to take part in the Chinese Expedition by joining the
Foreign Legion, I made up my mind to give my parole to General H----,
who was in command of the column.
Meanwhile I heard the most interesting details from the English officers
of the campaign in which we had lately been fighting against each other.
There were among them survivors of Colenso and Spion Kop, and men of the
Ladysmith garrison.
The Connaught Rangers were commanded by Colonel Brooke, who was
seriously wounded at Colenso, near the railway bridge. He was acting as
General in command of the Irish Brigade. He invited me to dine with him,
and at night, though most of the officers were sleeping in the open air,
he offered me half of the little shanty which formed his bedroom, and
himself fetched a bundle of straw for my bed. Then I had innumerable
offers of rugs, cloaks, and capes, till at last I believe I was better
wrapped up than anyone in the camp.
During the evening a telegram came telling Colonel Brooke that he had
been promoted and was a general. I willingly joined in the toasts that
were drunk in his honour, for it is a fine and noble feature of a
military career that one feels no bitterness to an adversary. When the
battle is over, foes can shake hands heartily, though they are ready to
slash each other to pieces again a few hours later.
On July 7 we rose at six. A captain brought me some hot water in an
indiarubber basin, sponges, and soap. Then breakfast was served. We had
porridge, red herrings, butter, jam, biscuits, coffee and tea.
But the Irish Brigade had received orders to saddle up, and I was handed
over to the staff of the first brigade of Mounted Infantry. I was very
politely received by General Hutton's staff-officer, a lieutenant. The
superior officer who took me to him, Major M. D----, of the 2nd Royal
Irish Fusiliers, asked him if he spoke French. I was delighted to hear
him answer in the affirmative. I went to lunch with him in his tent.
Conversation languished. For a long time he did not open his lips, if I
may so express it, for he was eating the grilled mutton his orderly had
given us with evident appetite. Suddenly he addressed me:
'Navet du pon.'
I bowed amiably, thinking we were to have a dish of turnips of some
kind. 'Du pon' puzzled me a little; but perhaps there were 'Navets
Dupont' just as there are 'Bouchees Lucullus' and 'Puree Soubise.' I
was astonished at my host's culinary knowledge. At last, later on, when
I had heard the phrase a great many times without ever seeing any
turnips, I found out that he wished to say, 'N'avez-vous du pain.' This
was the highest flight of which he was capable in French.
Nevertheless, my sojourn with Colonel Hutton's staff was extremely
interesting. I heard that we had killed the day before Captain Currie
and Lieutenant Kirk of the Imperial Light Horse, and I was present at an
engagement that lasted three days. On the third day, indeed, shells
burst so near me that I ran a fair chance of being killed by my friends.