Darkness Proves my Salvation
Commandant Hasebroek held the enemy in check whilst we continued our
march to a place called Vrouwpan. On the following day we struck the
Brak River at a point ten miles south-east of its confluence with the
Orange River, to the east of Prieska. It was not fordable, and we had to
off-saddle.
There was absolutely no chance of getting across--the best of swimmers
would have been helpless in that swollen torrent, which rushed down to
the Orange River, its great waves roaring like a tempestuous sea.
About two hours before sunset Commandant Hasebroek reported that the
English were rapidly approaching. The question was, "Which way shall we
go?" It was impossible to escape either to the south of the river or in
the direction of the enemy, for the veldt was too flat to afford us any
cover. If we were not to be cornered against an impassable torrent, we
must make our way down stream to the north-west; and even then we should
be in danger of being driven on to the Orange River, which was only ten
miles distant. By taking this road the English would not see us, on
account of a ridge which lay between us and them.
My plan was to get behind this ridge and to march under its shelter
until darkness came on; then, proceeding up the Orange River, to attack
the enemy in the rear. They were, however, only nine miles from us, and
should their advance be rapid, they would reach the friendly ridge
before night came on; and the danger would then be that before I had
fulfilled my purpose, we should be hemmed in between two swollen rivers
with the most fatal consequences. The risk was great, but no other
course was open to us. There was no time to seek advice from any one; I
had but a moment to spare in which to acquaint President Steyn with my
scheme. He said at once: "General, do as you think best."
My mind had been already made up; but my respect for the President was
so great, and we had always worked in such harmony, that I did not like
to do anything without his knowledge; besides which, his advice was
often of great value. Joshua of old prayed that the day might be
lengthened: but here the case was different; we had reason to be
thankful that the day was passed and night had begun to fall before the
vanguard of the enemy had reached the ridge, from the summit of which
they might have observed us.
That night was the darkest I had ever known. And this was in our favour.
Very quietly we retreated in a line parallel with the English column
until, on the following morning, we were not only out of sight but a
good nine or ten miles behind the enemy, who were marching on, fully
expecting to corner us between the two rivers.
The English army had been enormously reinforced, and it was clear that
now more than ever they were putting forth all their powers to silence
President Steyn and myself effectually.
From their point of view they were right; for had things turned out in
such a way that we could have remained in Cape Colony, then I am
convinced we should have made matters very awkward for them.
But what were we to do now? With so many burghers on foot or provided
only with worn-out horses, it was useless to think of circumventing the
enemy, and thus getting once more to the south of them; whereas to go up
stream along the banks of the Orange River until we could discover a
ford, and then to return across it into the Free State, would mean the
upsetting of my plan of campaign.
I was obliged to make the best of a bad bargain; and I decided to find a
way across the Orange River before the enemy had discovered my
whereabouts.
That day, the 20th of February, we set out along the river, looking for
a ford. The river was falling, but as there was no feasible crossing we
had no choice but to go on, trusting that we should find one near the
confluence of the two rivers. Here again we were disappointed; the punts
which should have been there had been destroyed some time before by the
English, but we heard of a boat six miles higher up, so on we marched.
When found, it was only a small boat, capable of holding, at most,
twelve men, but we got to work at once, and by the evening of the 22nd
there were two hundred dismounted burghers on the other bank of the
river. Some crossed by swimming, in attempting which a man of the name
of Van de Nerwe was drowned.
A few of those who crossed in the boat succeeded in pulling their horses
after them.
On the morning of the 23rd I received a report that the English forces
were close on our heels. We did not expect them so soon, but they had
made a long night's march. Without delay we off-saddled, and proceeded
along the river, while the rearguard covered our retreat. The force of
the enemy was, however, too great, and the rearguard had, after a short
engagement, to give way.
Fortunately the veldt was broken, and we could (as we had done a few
days previously) march ahead out of sight of the enemy. Towards two
o'clock in the afternoon we were obliged to off-saddle, but could only
do so for one hour, for the English were upon us again. Our gun and
Maxim-Nordenfeldt we had to leave behind for the enemy; the draught
cattle had become exhausted, and we had no dynamite with which to blow
up the guns.
But what did it matter? England had already so many big guns that two
more could not make much difference, if added to the four hundred which
that country--one of the oldest and strongest of Empires--had brought
against a small nation, fighting only to defend its sacred rights.
Nevertheless, it cut me to the heart to give up my guns[88] on that
day--the 23rd of February--the commemoration day of the independence of
the Orange Free State. In happier times we had celebrated this day
amongst our friends, to the accompaniment of salvoes of rifles. Now we
were obliged to celebrate it by giving up the only two guns with which
we could still shoot, and which we were now to see turned upon
ourselves.
My feelings on that day I can never forget! Those Englishmen who go by
the name of "Pro-Boers" are the best fitted to describe the anguish
which then overpowered me, for they stood up for justice even against
their own people. And this not because they were hostile to their
Government, or to the greatness of England's power, but only because
they were not without moral sense, because they could not stifle
conscience at the expense of justice, nor identify themselves with
iniquitous actions.
But the day will come--of this I am convinced--when not Pro-Boers only,
but all England will acknowledge our rights--the rights which we shall
then have earned by our quiet faithfulness and obedience. I cannot
believe that any father will look without pity on a child who comes to
him as a child should--obedient and submissive.
The 23rd of February, 1901, the forty-seventh anniversary of the Orange
Free States, had been a disastrous day for us indeed, but it was to end
in another miraculous escape, for in the darkness of that evening it
again happened that we were delivered from an apparently unavoidable
misfortune. As I have said already, the English were firing on my
rear-guard; at the same time my scouts came in to tell me that, just in
front of us, at a distance of not quite four miles, there was another
great army of the enemy. I had intended to march that night to the west
of Hopetown. But now if I went in that direction I should only run
straight on to this army. If we went to the left we could only advance
2,000 paces before being visible to the English on the kop close to
Hopetown, from where they could make known our movements by heliograph.
At our front, at our back, on our left, the outlook was hopeless; and to
the right lay the cruel river. Stand still we could not--the enemy were
upon us--it was impossible that anything could save us--no, not
impossible--a rescue was at hand.
The sun was just going down, and by the time we could be seen from
Hopetown, night would have covered us with its sheltering wings.
We should then be able to execute a flank movement, and make a detour
round the enemy who were before us. But now I knew that we must be
prepared to march nearly the whole night through, in order that we might
be able, early on the following morning, to cross the railway lines. If
we did not do this, then we should have the enemy close in our rear, and
perhaps an armour train threatening us in front. But ... there were the
burghers on foot and those who had weak horses; and I had not the heart
to make them march on foot for so long a time, yet the thought of
allowing such trustworthy patriotic burghers to fall into the hands of
the enemy was unbearable. I therefore decided on letting them take a
cross road to the north, to the banks of the Orange River about five
miles from our position. There, on the banks of the river, were many
bushes amongst which they could hide themselves until the enemy had
passed by. They could then proceed along the banks of the river and
cross it by means of the boat. I cautioned them not to march in one
troop, or in one trail, but to spread out, so that the English could not
easily follow their tracks. In this the poor burghers succeeded; they
already, on that memorable and sad day, had marched eighteen miles; but
they had yet to cover another five miles to the river before they could
take their night's rest. They accomplished this feat (on the second day)
under the valiant and true Commandant Hasebroek, whose horse, although
tired, was still able to proceed. As for me, I marched away in the
evening, and after we had rested that night for a few hours, we arrived
at a place a short distance to the south of Hopetown. About eight
o'clock we crossed the line, which was fortunately at that point not as
yet guarded by forts, and off-saddled about six miles beyond. We had
eaten nothing since the previous day, and it will easily be understood
that we were so hungry that we, as the Boer proverb says,--"could have
eaten off a nail's head." There we got some sheep, and it was not long
before they were killed, broiled, and eaten; what a meal we made!
Towards mid-day we headed once more for the Orange River. We thought
that by the time we arrived it would be fordable, for we had seen on the
previous morning that it was falling rapidly, but what was our
disappointment! there must have been rain higher up the stream, as the
river had become fuller, and there was still no chance of crossing.
The English were approaching. We had, however, to use our field glasses
to enable us to see them, as we were fifteen or sixteen miles in front
of them. Once more there were burghers whose horses were tired and who
had to march on foot. We thought now that there would be a better chance
at Limoensdrift; and every one who knew this ford said that it was a
shallow one. The following day saw us there, and--the river was quite
full! We then tried higher up, still with the same result--every drift
was unfordable.
At last we reached the Zanddrift, where we had crossed seventeen days
before. We knew that this was a shallow drift, and on arriving there I
got two young burghers,--of whom the one, David Heenop, was an excellent
swimmer,--to make a trial. The water had not appeared to be so deep as
we found it to be, when the two burghers plunged into it. They could not
remain on their horses' backs, but had to swim alongside of them to the
other side of the river. All thought of their return was out of the
question; they had risked their lives in crossing, and I gave them
orders from my side of the river not to attempt the passage back. But
they had not a stitch of clothing on them, for they had stripped
themselves before entering the water! In this state, then, they were
obliged to mount their horses and proceed, and this under a burning sun,
which scorched them with its rays. About three-quarters of an hour's
ride from there was a Boer farm; their only course, they thought, was to
ask for gowns from the ladies there, in which to dress themselves. When
they arrived at a short distance from the house (such was the account
they gave on joining me later on) they halted and shouted to the house
for clothing. A Boer vrouw[89] named Boshof, sent to each one through
her son--not a gown, but a pair of trousers and a shirt of her
husband's, which she had been able to hide from the English, who had
passed there, and who generally took away, or burnt, all male attire.
The enemy had, in the meantime, approached quite close to us, and we
were again obliged to look for a drift up stream. We had hopes that if
the river did not all of a sudden rise, we should find one. We came so
close to the English that we had to open fire on their advance guard
before we could proceed.
Here General Judge Hartzog met us with his commandos from the
south-west of Cape Colony, and with him, General Fourie.
That night we marched about fourteen miles.
In the night, after crossing the Zeekoe River, we arrived at a Boer
farm, to which (we are told) twenty English scouts had paid a visit
shortly after sunset, and, having asked for information concerning us,
had gone away by the same road we were following. About four or five
miles from there we had to cross a ridge. It was dark, and I had
forgotten those twenty English. I had sent out no scouts before me, but
rode, as was my habit, with my staff, in front of the commandos. As we
approached the summit of the mountain I saw a group of horses fastened
together, and some men lying in front of them. The horses and men were
not twenty paces to the left of the path, among the bushes. I thought at
first that they were some of my burghers who had ridden on in advance,
and were now lying there asleep; I myself had rested for a while at the
foot of the mountains, to give the burghers, who were on foot, a chance
of coming up with me. The thought angered me, for it would have been
against all orders that any burghers, without special permission, should
go in advance. I proceeded to wake them up.
"What do you mean by riding ahead like this?" I called out to them.
Nearly all with one accord sprang up and asked, "Who are you?" "Hands
up!" I called out; as one man their hands went up. They explained that
they were seven of the twenty scouts before mentioned,--but here the
remainder opened fire upon us from about two hundred paces to the front.
I called out to the burghers, "Charge!"
The burghers did so, but as they came to the little hill where we had
seen the sparks from the guns they found nobody. The English had fled,
and, as the moon had just gone down, it was too dark to pursue them.
Taking with us the seven prisoners, we continued on our way until the
following morning. We allowed them to retain their clothes. It was
still before the "uitschuddings"[90] period.
The day broke, and after having been turned back on the banks of the
Brak River, we marched to the fifteenth ford. "If we could only get
across here," we said. We knew that once across we should have a respite
from the enemy, and could with thankful hearts take breath even if it
were only for three or four days.
When we came to the river I at once ordered a few burghers to undress
and go in. Alas! when the horses entered the ford, the water came over
their backs, and they had almost to swim. "Now they will have to swim!"
we cried, but presently we saw that the farther they went the shallower
it became, and that they walked where we expected them to swim, until at
last the water reached only to the horses' knees.
What a scramble there was now among the burghers in order to cross! Soon
the river was one mass of men from bank to bank.
I can hardly describe the different exclamations of joy, the Psalms and
the songs that now rose up from the burghers splashing through the
water. "Never will we return," "No more of the Colony for me," "The Free
State," "On to the Free State!" "The Free State for ever!" Then again,
"Praise the Lord with cheerful song," "Hurrah!" These were among the
expressions which met my ears.
Although this was only an old waggon-ford, which had not been used for
the last few years, my little waggon and a few carts got across. One of
the carts was drawn by two small donkeys. Somebody told me that the
little donkeys had to swim a short distance where it was deep, and at
one time disappeared beneath the water; but that the driver was so full
of joy--or of fear--that he went on whipping the water!
A fearful experience we had had! We asked each other in wonder, "Is it
possible? How could we have endured it?" But as I have only been
hinting at things, the reader will perhaps say, "O come! it hasn't been
as bad as all that!"
Give me leave then, dear reader, to place before you the whole of the
circumstances. England's great power pitted against two Republics,
which, in comparison with European countries, were nearly uninhabited!
This mighty Empire employed against us, besides their own English,
Scotch and Irish soldiers, volunteers from the Australian, New Zealand,
Canadian and South African Colonies; hired against us both black and
white nations, and, what is the worst of all, the national scouts from
our own nation sent out against us. Think, further, that all harbours
were closed to us, and that there were therefore no imports. Can you not
see that the whole course of events was a miracle from beginning to end?
A miracle of God in the eyes of every one who looks at it with an
unbiassed mind, but even more apparent to those who had personal
experience of it. Yet, however that may be, I had to declare again that
if there had been no national scouts and no Kaffirs, in all human
probability matters would have taken another turn. But as things have
turned out, all that can now be said is, that we have done our best, and
that to ask any one to do more is unreasonable. May it be the cry of
every one, "God willed it so--His name be praised!"
[Footnote 88: There were still two Krupps left, but we had no ammunition
for them.]
[Footnote 89: Farmer's wife.]
[Footnote 90: Stripping.]