BITTEN BY OUR OWN DOGS
The events about to be recorded in this chapter have just reminded me
of an incident which took place immediately after the occupation of
the capital.
An old Kaffir, who had been with the English just before Pretoria was
taken, told Mrs. van Warmelo that three Boer men had ridden out on
bicycles to the English lines, and held consultation with
them--traitors evidently, in secret understanding with the enemy, to
whom they took information of some sort.
The old Kaffir wound up his remarks by saying:
"Missis, you are bitten by your own dogs."
How true this was, was soon to be brought home to us in the most
forcible way; but before we go on to the next developments in our
story I must not forget to tell you, good reader, that the three spies
from whom Hansie parted on the evening of August 15th had quite an
escape as they left the town.
They were driven in a cab, with their numerous parcels, as far as the
wire enclosure, by a friend who always escorted them through the most
dangerous parts of the town.
This friend, a young Mr. van der Westhuizen, played an important but
unobtrusive rôle in the history of the men with whom we are
concerned.
When Hansie met him first he was in the Pretoria hospital with a badly
wounded arm, of which some of the muscles had been completely severed.
As he never recovered the entire use of that arm, he was detained in
Pretoria with other men unable to escape, and, carrying his left arm
in a sling, he was made use of by the Secret Committee and by Mrs.
Joubert, who employed him as her coachman.
He carried a residential pass, which he produced on every imaginable
occasion, and was able to render untold services to the spies by
conveying them with their parcels to the wire fence. But on this
occasion they nearly got into serious trouble, for, just as the cab
was nearing the enclosure, a searchlight from one of the forts was
turned full on them. In consternation, one of the men ordered the
driver to turn to the left, another to the right, but with great
presence of mind he ignored them both, and drove straight on, thus
disarming a group of soldiers, standing near, of any suspicions they
might have had at seeing a cab so near the fence at night.
Fortunately, the light was soon turned in another direction.
The spies descended with their parcels, and were shortly in the deep
furrow along which they had to creep to reach the wire fence,
cautiously wending their way to friends and liberty, when some one
came running after them, shouting to them to stop.
It was van der Westhuizen with a parcel they had left in the cab.
In this way the three men left the town with the railway time-table,
not to come in again until September 10th.
My readers will remember the five men who were cut off from their
refuge in the Skurvebergen some time back, and one of whom Mrs. van
Warmelo had refused to harbour.
I shall not name them, for I do not feel myself justified in damning
the reputation of the Boer traitors for ever by publishing their
names, but the events I am about to relate cannot be excluded without
changing the entire character of this story.
These men had been concealed by other friends, and when the scare was
over they escaped from Pretoria to the commandos. They had nearly been
forgotten when news reached the capital of their capture by the enemy,
five of them in all, and of their imprisonment in jail.
While their life hung in the balance a time of nervous dread, not to
be forgotten, was passed through, for they would either be shot as
spies or they could save themselves by betraying their friends.
The suspense was soon over.
One of them--the very one, in fact, who had been refused admittance to
Harmony through Mrs. van Warmelo's prudence, turned King's evidence
and, to save his own precious skin, revealed the names of the good
friends who had sheltered him at their own peril.
Rumour said that two of the betrayed would be shot on the evidence he
gave against them.
Not only the names of his friends in town did he betray, but he also
told the authorities how and when and where the spies came in, the
names of the men who worked with him on commando, and the families who
harboured them in town.
More than eighty people were incriminated.
On every side whole families were arrested, the men being put into
jail, while their women and children were sent away to Concentration
Camps.
My readers must understand that this was an entirely different set of
people, not known to those at Harmony, and with whom they had had no
dealings. It was no credit to Hansie that she and her mother were not
on the list of the betrayed. She remembered with humility and shame
her unreasonable fit of temper when her mother refused to harbour the
traitor, and determined to give ear to her wise counsel in future.
They and their friends were in no way affected by his treachery,
except in so far that it cast a gloom over them and made them realise
that the Boers would not be able to hold out much longer against the
machinations of these traitors of their own flesh and blood. Another
matter for grave concern was the thought that Captain Naudé might
attempt to pass through his usual route, not knowing that the enemy
had been informed of it, and run straight into the traps prepared for
him.
How to get out a warning to the Skurvebergen in time was the problem
before them now.
Hansie spent the next few days in flying about on her bicycle to find
out if any one in the "inner circle" had been arrested.
Thank God, no. Mr. Willem Botha was at home, the Jouberts were still
in undisturbed security, all the other members of the Secret Committee
were safe.
They congratulated themselves and one another on their escape, and Mr.
Botha, visiting at Harmony a few days later, once more impressed on
them the danger of coming into contact with any spies other than those
they knew and trusted.
And again he warned them to keep no papers in the house--"for," he
continued, "we must always bear in mind that we can never be sure we
have not been betrayed. Our names may be on the black list already,
and the enemy may only be waiting to catch us red-handed. No one is
safe, and no one ought to _feel_ safe."
There was a moment's pause, and then he went on, with evident
reluctance: "I have good reason for warning you again. I do not wish
to alarm you, but only last night, as I was walking in the moonlight
with my wife, we passed a man I know well, with a girl on his arm. The
moon was shining very brightly, and, as they passed me, I distinctly
heard him say, 'This man has also been given away.'"
Hansie felt a thrill of acute anxiety for her friend. The two women
looked at one another.
They tried to console themselves with the thought that the man might
have mistaken Mr. Botha for some one else. There was nothing to do but
wait, but the suspense and uncertainty were very hard to bear, and
long were the discussions over every imaginable possibility.
They knew that the traitor was acquainted with the Captain of the
Secret Service and his private secretary Mr. Greyling. Did he also
know the names of the members of the Committee? Did Greyling confide
the secret of the time-table to him? These young men were reckless.
Death was their daily bread, and caution was a thing unknown to them.
Wonderful developments could be expected within the next few days.
The lowering clouds of adversity gathered closely, surely,
mercilessly, around our friends.
Clasp that hand again, and once again, in mute farewell. Look deep
into those steadfast eyes. It may be for the last time for many long,
relentless years; it may be for the last time--on earth!