THE BETRAYAL OF THE SECRET COMMITTEE. A MEMORABLE DAY OF TROUBLE
It was only a few days after the van Warmelos had parted from Mr.
Botha that Mr. J. Joubert arrived at Harmony with the tidings that
four men had again entered the town that night. One of them was a lad
of nineteen, young Erasmus, whose parents had been killed by lightning
when he was a child, and to whom Mrs. Joubert had been a second
mother.
When he arrived at their home that night they were very angry with
him, and demanded what he meant by coming into the very heart of
danger.
He meekly answered that he had merely come to see how they were all
getting on, and to spend a few days at home, casually remarking that
there was a dearth of horse-shoe nails on commando, and that he had
been ordered to bring some out.
He and his comrades knew nothing of the recent betrayal, and it was
their good fortune that they had used an entirely different route,
coming through Skinner's Court. They had not seen a single guard.
Besides the horse-shoe nails, there was the usual demand for clothing
and European and Colonial newspapers.
Mrs. van Warmelo immediately made a parcel of the cuttings which she
and her friends had been collecting for some time past, and wrote a
tiny note to Mr. Greyling, warning him and his fellows against coming
in through the usual way, which was now guarded, and informing him
that his name had been betrayed. This note was hidden in a match-box
with a double false bottom, covered with matches, and given to Erasmus
to be handed to Greyling.
Since the revelations made, it was not safe to see the spies, nor was
it known by whom the match-box had been sent.
After all, in spite of Mrs. Joubert's vexation with the reckless
youth, she was thankful to know that some one was going out to
Skurveberg with a warning to the Secret Service.
Erasmus had to leave without the horse-shoe nails, because, though J.
Joubert hunted all over the town, he could not procure enough to send
out.
The stores sold them only to the military and blacksmiths, and the
latter were curious to know why he did not bring his horses to them to
be shod.
Mother and daughter were there at 5.30 p.m., with their parcels, and
at 6 p.m. the spies were to leave, Mrs. Malan and van der Westhuizen
driving out with them as far as they could.
That was a real danger, compared with which all other risks were as
nothing, to drive through the streets of Pretoria with spies, at a
time when everyone was liable to be stopped to produce residential
passes and to show permits for horses and carriages.
But, indeed, those women were not to be intimidated by anything!
We have now come to a morning into which many events of disastrous
importance were crowded, the fateful September 9th. Before breakfast,
an agitated girl, unknown at Harmony, arrived with the intelligence
that Mr. Willem Botha had been arrested at 8 o'clock the night before.
No other names were mentioned then, but it was felt instinctively that
the entire Secret Committee had been betrayed and arrested, and the
news, when it reached Harmony during the course of the day, found
mother and daughter to some extent prepared. The shock, nevertheless,
was so great, so crushing, that it took them some time to recover
sufficiently to form a plan of action.
Hansie hastily swallowed some food and was preparing to go to town,
when her mother asked her what she meant to do, whether she had
thought of anything, or if it was advisable to show herself at all
just then.
"I don't know what I am going to do _afterwards_, mother," she said,
"but I am going straight to Mrs. Botha now."
"Hansie!" exclaimed Mrs. van Warmelo in consternation, "you will do
nothing of the kind. Their house will be watched, and you will be
followed home. You can do nothing to help that poor woman now, and to
be seen with her would be an unpardonable and unnecessary risk."
But Hansie had made up her mind, and nothing could persuade her that
it was not her duty to stand by her friend in her hour of need. There
was good reason, too, for her anxiety.
After thirteen years of happy, though childless married life, Mr. and
Mrs. Botha's home was about to be blessed with an infant child, and
it was the thought of the expectant mother's anguish and despair that
took Hansie to her side.
"Well" (Mrs. van Warmelo was secretly pleased with her daughter's
behaviour), "if you are determined to expose yourself to this danger,
I think I had better begin to pack at once, for we shall certainly be
sent away."
"All right, mother," Hansie laughed; "pack away, and I'll come home as
soon as I can to help you."
She took tender leave of her mother, cheering her with hopeful words
and whistling gaily to Carlo to come and protect her on her
adventurous expedition.
No one could have been more surprised to see Hansie than Mrs. Botha.
She stared as if she could not believe her eyes, and then fell sobbing
on her young friend's shoulder.
"How could you risk it to come here?" she exclaimed.
"No one else has been near me, and I am deserted by all my friends
since----" here she fell a-weeping again, and clung to Hansie for
support.
As soon as she could speak, she gave an account of all that had taken
place.
She and her husband were sitting under the verandah the night before,
talking about the miserable business of the spy's infidelity and its
disastrous results to so many people in town. Mr. Botha was just
saying that, in the event of his arrest, his wife need have no fear of
his betraying a friend, and that the English might shoot him, but they
would not get a shred of information out of him, when two detectives
on bicycles rode up and dismounted at the steps.
Mrs. Botha just had time to whisper hurriedly to her husband that she
would rather see him dead than have him come back to her a traitor,
when the detectives, producing a warrant for his arrest, approached
him.
He gave himself up quietly; there was nothing else for him to do. He
was unarmed, for it was one of the first rules of the Committee and
practically their only safeguard in the event of an arrest, to carry
on their work without weapons of any sort.
The house was thoroughly searched for spies and all books and papers
were taken away, but, thanks to Mr. Botha's prudence and foresight,
not a single incriminating document was found.
The remembrance of this was a source of great comfort to his wife,
for, without proofs, his life was safe, although he would probably be
sent as prisoner of war to one of the distant islands.
Mrs. Botha was a brave and true woman. She did not think of herself at
all, but she was so much concerned for Hansie's safety that she urged
her to go home at once and not to come again. The first part of her
injunctions Hansie obeyed, but she refused to promise not to be seen
at that house again.
It was being closely watched, there was no doubt of that, and on
getting into a cab she soon became aware of being followed by two men
on bicycles.
This was rather exciting, and Hansie actually enjoyed the chase.
Instead of urging her cabby to whip up his horses, she gave him
instructions to go as slowly as possible, well knowing that it would
be more difficult for any one on a bicycle to follow a crawling cab
unnoticed than to pursue a more swiftly moving vehicle.
When she reached Harmony and paid her fare she saw, out of the corner
of her eye, that the men dismounted before the War Office.
"Were you followed home?" was her mother's first question.
"Yes, indeed," she replied, laughing; "they are near our gate at this
very moment, and I can just imagine them going to the sergeant-major
presently, asking questions about the people living here. And I am
quite sure his answer will be, 'Bless you, no. Those two ladies are
quiet and well-behaved, and you don't suppose they could be carrying
on any of _that_ business under my very nose!'"
Hansie's diaries had all been removed to an office in town and placed
in a _safe_ safe. All safes were _not_ "safe" in those days, but this
one belonged to a man who was known as a model of good behaviour
throughout the war. White envelopes, diaries, copies of official
dispatches from the field, all had been removed from Harmony, except
the "White Diary" which lay open on her writing-table, and to which we
owe a detailed account of the stirring events of September 1901.
What it naturally did not contain was accurate information of the
arrest of the other Committee members and their subsequent
experiences.
Trusted friends were beyond her reach, and she had to content herself
with what information she could gather from men "about the town," but
this information, verified by what she was told by the men concerned
long after the war was over, will give the reader a fair idea of the
events of this period.
Not only Mr. Botha, but all the members of the Secret Committee had
been arrested that night, and two days later the staggering tidings
came of Mr. Jannie Joubert's removal to the Rest Camp, where
"political prisoners" were detained.
Now indeed fears of a speedy raid on Harmony were justified.
Their fellow-conspirators were all in the hand of the enemy, and
although they trusted them implicitly, and knew there was no one
amongst them base enough to betray his friends, they had no reason to
think that the people who had betrayed the others would spare them.
One revelation after the other was made that day, and Hansie learnt
from some one, who said he was in possession of all the facts, that,
despicable though the treacherous spy's behaviour had been, he was not
responsible for the exposure of the Secret Service Committee.
Alas, no! the appearance of another traitor in our midst has to be
recorded here.
One of the young spies in the service of the Committee had been taken
by the enemy, how and where I am not at liberty to say, but there were
circumstances connected with his capture, and facts known to the enemy
of the hazardous part he had played on previous occasions, which made
it clear from the beginning that he would be convicted.
Some one who was allowed to visit him regularly in his cell told me
that he stood his trial bravely and steadfastly refused to betray a
single name to save himself. Threats and persuasions were of no
avail.
On Saturday night in his cell his death sentence was read to him.
The execution was to take place on Sunday morning at 6 o'clock, he was
told.
Incidentally his jailers informed him that there was still a chance
for him if he would give the authorities the names of some of the
people in town who were in communication with the Boers in the field.
He was then left to his pleasant reflections.
Reader, we must not be too harsh in our judgment of him. He was only a
boy, not yet twenty years of age, and we shall never know what anguish
of mind he endured that night.
When day broke he was in no way fit for the harrowing scene awaiting
him. His father, his sister, and his fiancée were admitted to his cell
at the fateful hour that morning, to take their last leave of him.
They clung to him, sobbing, wailing, and imploring him to give the
names of his fellow-conspirators. What arguments were brought to bear
upon him we shall never know.
He yielded, and in that God-forsaken cell on Sunday morning he gave
the names required of him, the five members of the Secret Committee
and other names familiar to us all, Jannie Joubert, Franz Smit,
Liebenberg, etc.
Ah, if he had been executed that day, how his memory would have been
revered by his friends and respected by his foes! But what was he
now?--a traitor, oh God! a traitor to his land and people!
And a coward too, base and craven-hearted, shielding his miserable
life with dishonour and treachery.
That the enemy would not have shot him in any case, because of his
youth, makes no difference to the blackness of his deed, except
perhaps to add to the bitterness of his remorse when afterwards he was
apprised of this fact.[4]
The death sentence was commuted, and instead he was sentenced to
several years' hard labour; he was, in fact, still "doing time" in
Pretoria and Johannesburg two years after peace had been declared.
Of the women who were the cause of his downfall I can only say that
they were never in any way connected with the "Petticoat Commando."
* * * * *
When the news of Jannie Joubert's arrest became known, Mrs. van
Warmelo positively forbade her daughter to go to Mrs. Joubert's house.
There was nothing to be done, and although they had every reason to
believe that their names were on the list of the betrayed, nothing
could be gained by exposing themselves to unnecessary danger.
It was told Hansie, the day after the last sweeping arrests had been
made, that Mrs. Joubert's carriage had been standing before the
Military Governor's office for some time.
This information brought the reality of the situation vividly to her
mind.
What was the old lady doing there? Pleading for her son? Was there no
way of helping her? These questions preyed on Hansie's mind, until
she obtained permission from her mother to visit Mr. Jannie's sister,
Mrs. Malan.
Mrs. Malan was in bed with influenza, she said, but it was quite
evident that acute distress of mind had a large share in her
indisposition.
On Sunday night, after the fateful morning of the last betrayal, the
Jouberts were surprised by a visit from the Provost-Marshal himself,
accompanied by another officer.
They asked permission to search the house for the ammunition which
they knew to be concealed there. Ammunition! Jannie said he knew of
none, except a boxful of cartridges standing in the loft. They had
been found lying about the house and were stowed away when the English
had taken possession of Pretoria. He took the officers up to the loft
and showed them the box, but they were not satisfied, and ordered him
to appear before the Provost-Marshal the next day, to give a
satisfactory explanation.
A search was also made for documents, but nothing was found except an
old heliographic chart which his father, Commandant-General Joubert,
had used long ago in Kaffir wars.
Jannie Joubert went the following day to give an account of himself,
and the next thing his mother heard was that he had been arrested and
removed to the Rest Camp. (_Arrest_ Camp, some people called it!)
He was very independent and refused to take the oath of neutrality,
which, strange to say, he had hitherto avoided, and it would certainly
not have been to his taste had he known that his mother had been to
the Military Governor to intercede for him.
The result of that interview was not satisfactory. He would only be
released on signing parole.
This, Mrs. Malan thought, he would certainly refuse to do.
"We were treated with marked kindness," she continued, "and this may
be taken as proof that the English are not aware of the _real_ facts."
The two women laughed in mutual understanding of their conspiracies.
"Still this leniency may be only a blind, Hansie. It is painful not to
know _how much_ the enemy knows."
"What will you do if Captain Naudé and Mr. Greyling come in to-night?"
Hansie asked.
"Shelter them, of course!" was the undaunted reply.
* * * * *
That night as Hansie lay on her sleepless pillow, she felt as if all
the batteries of the gold mines were thumping on her heart.
Mrs. Malan's last words to her rang continually in her ears:
"Willie Botha will be executed without a doubt."
But before day dawned Hansie's heart was at rest and she slept, for
she had solved the problem in her mind.
She would go to General Maxwell and plead with him for the life of her
friend.
He was human and tender-hearted, that she knew, and she would tell him
how an innocent young life hung in the balance, how the lives of both
mother and child would be imperilled if such a cruel fate befell the
father. If her pleadings were of no avail, she would offer to give,
in exchange for his life, the name of one well known to her as a
dangerous enemy to the English.
And when she had made sure of his release, hers would be the name she
would reveal.
During the dark days which followed Hansie found her strong support in
the thought of this resolve.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 4: The writer was misinformed on this point. After the age
of fourteen, boys are liable to be executed.]