“Now they will be able to see us well,” I said; for we had to stand
still, which was very dangerous. But I kept calm and told myself, “My
Redeemer is here, and wherever I may go with Jesus it will always be
well.” And I clung fast to the hope that we should come away safely.
When we had at last got away from these dangerous heights, it seemed at
once as if the fighting were quieting down. However, we could not tell
whether they might not fall upon us from in front, as in that direction
lay a woody and uneven country.
Very soon we heard that they had not come any nearer. But still we
went on, to get as far away as possible. Then we heard that nearly all
the people who had been that night in Schweizer-Renecke had been taken
prisoners, and that the very same landdrost who had told me towards
sunset that he would be sure to know when the “khakis” were coming had
had no time that very night to put on his clothes and escape before
they appeared. I thought how sorry I was that I had not followed my own
wish; had I done so, we should not have found ourselves in such danger.
However, it looked again as if we were going to escape, now that the
fighting was slackening.
After the Almighty I owed my freedom to brave little Jacobus De la Rey
and Louis De la Rey, who also did his best to get us away safely. When
the troops were so near that they could have shot at my waggons, so
that I wanted to stop, they paid no heed, but continued to drive the
oxen on at full speed.
I had so many children with me and dreaded so much to see them shot
dead before my eyes that at one moment I thought it would be better to
give in.
Fortunately, it was not necessary; the danger was now over. It was very
late before we could make a halt. I had nothing ready in the waggons
to give the children to eat; but none of them gave me any trouble, not
even my little Janne, who was only six years old. It was so clever of
him to understand that when there was nothing to give him he would have
to wait.
After a short rest we had to go on again. At three o’clock in the
afternoon we stopped. We had no wood, and my boy, who was thoroughly
dead beat, did not know how he was going to make a fire. However, by
the time the evening had come our food was ready.
Now I had no more cows, so that we had to do without the precious
milk. If my little Janne could get nothing else, he used always to be
contented with milk.
That evening we went farther. As we were going to unyoke the oxen and
rest for the night a number of people came past, saying that there
were troops coming on out of Vryburg. “Ah!” I said, “my oxen are so
tired, how can I get on any farther to-night?” However, after resting a
little, I went on again.
At sunrise we halted near a farm, where there were trees with
undergrowth, so that we could get firewood.
Coffee was just ready when, before I could see to the rest of the
breakfast, there came the news that the troops were only a couple of
hours’ riding from us. We should have to go on again. We moved very
slowly, the oxen being so tired. Fortunately, we found out it was not
true about the troops coming from Vryburg.
Sometimes all my Kaffirs would be pulling at the sailcloth to hold it
down and fasten it securely, so that I would think that the awning was
surely going to be blown away from the waggon. It was dreadful to go
through those storms in the waggon. However, man’s nature is such that
when it is once again a beautiful calm evening he thinks no more of the
storms and the lightnings that are over.
It was again a calm and pleasant day; the “storm” of the “khakis” was
also over--they had gone back to Klerksdorp and we were able to take a
little rest. I went to Delport’s place on the Harts River. I had lost
all my cattle during the flight from Schweizer-Renecke. Here I found
about fifty-two head belonging to me, which had been driven on with all
the other cattle during the flight. But I did not get my cows back;
those had been looted by the English. I waited anxiously to hear what
our people were doing in Pretoria. A few days later they arrived. I
said how disheartening it was to have been so worried by the “khakis.”
They had been doing all they possibly could to harm us during the time
that the Generals were away. I was very glad when they returned; then
I could get news of my children in Pretoria, from whom I had not heard
for so long. A few days later General De la Rey began his meetings. The
brave burghers were having a bitterly hard life of it at that time and
their families were in great want.
Nevertheless, they would not abandon their rights. They were determined
to go on fighting for their freedom and their rights.
These brave men were depending, not on their strength, but on their
rights.
It was a very grave question to consider.
They had struggled for so long; they had given up wives and children,
and all that a man holds most precious; there might be thousands of the
enemy rising up against their small band, and even shutting them in on
every side; nevertheless, they had long since grown to be convinced
that it was not they who were fighting, but a Power superior to the
might of man. But many had been killed or taken, so that they were
greatly weakened, especially of late.
And worst of all were the defections and treachery.
When a man behaves treacherously it is a terrible thing.
For only think to what all that has brought them. Some became traitors;
too spiritless to help their own people, they were courageous enough
to take up arms to help the English; on all those rests the guilt of
their brothers’ blood. The result was to render those who held on still
more steadfast and to teach them still greater abhorrence of treachery
and of bad faith.
As they had struggled and suffered for so long, and it had not pleased
God to deliver them into the hand of their enemy, they did not wish
to be themselves the ones to do it. And I was entirely at one with
them, for their story and mine were one and the same. It still remains
inexplicable to me how for seventeen months I had been able to fly with
my children, many a day not knowing what to do.
It is often hard and difficult to “trek” round with so many children
and not to be able to get clothes and other necessaries for them.
And yet I was able to say every day, “The Lord has helped me and
strengthened me, like He helped the widow of Zarephath, so that her
cruse never failed her, but always remained full.” Often as I lay in
bed at night, feeling so depressed by the thought of what would come of
it all, did I repeat Hymn 22, “Rest, my soul, thy God is King,” and the
last verse, “Your God is King, be contented with your lot.”
And every day the Lord strengthened me in this manner, so that I had no
right to be faithless. And it was the same with our people.
They went on with their meetings, and every time they decided to
persevere and not give up. Everywhere it was the same.
I thought, “Who is it that makes the burghers so strong? It is beyond
man’s comprehension.”
Yet if one remembers the place of Golgotha, then one can better
understand.
That the Saviour must suffer so much, and yet be innocent, was a
difficult thing for His disciples to understand at the time. It was
known throughout the world that the Saviour must die, and undergo the
most cruel treatment, but men could not tell why it should be.
And we do not know why this people should suffer so bitterly; some day
we shall learn the reason.
When the meetings were over in the Lichtenburg district they went to
the Zwartruggens and Marico. I was then in the Lichtenburg district.
As soon as the General had left Lichtenburg the “khakis” began to
“trek” on.
They were already advancing rapidly towards Vryburg. I heard that they
were coming on in such large numbers that I thought, “Why is it that
the ‘khakis’ can never let me have a little peace? I shall go somewhere
where I can stay in some little comfort, and I will not fly any more,
for they are busy making peace. Let the ‘khakis’ come if they like.”
People were all flying away with their cattle as hard as they could.
They advised me to let my cattle also go with the rest. I said, “I do
not know what will be best. I have not come across the troops for a
long time, and I do not know what they would do now if I were to meet
them.”
I let myself be talked over, and sent all my cattle away. I had two
waggons; I let one go with the cattle. I remained with one waggon, a
tent, a spider and four cows. All the rest went in the flight.
The “khakis” came on in large numbers. They came swarming over the
ground. I said, “Where can all these ‘khakis’ have come from that there
should be such crowds of them?” Still I did not go away, but stayed on
at the place called Corsica, belonging to Mr Meyer, where his wife was
still living and some other women besides.
We kept on hearing of large armies that were advancing. All our men
were away.
Suddenly we heard the sound of fighting not very far from us. Then all
at once we saw horsemen coming up over the rise. We saw that they were
Boers, and we asked where the troops were. “Not far from here,” they
said. “We have just been fighting with them.”
It was already late and the burghers went away.
In the morning we got up early, knowing that the troops would be
getting here very soon. We had not even breakfasted yet when we saw
them coming over the rise.
I thought to myself, “What will they do to me now? I have been fleeing
before them for eighteen months and they were doing all they could to
catch me, but in vain. Perhaps they will revenge themselves on me now.
But,” I thought, “the Lord has always watched over me till to-day, and
He will continue to do so.”
They stopped a few hundred paces away from us and rode up and down
there for a little while. Suddenly they dashed up to my waggon, came
up to where I was sitting behind, and one of them asked me where the
Boers were.
I answered, “There are none here.”
“When were they here last?”
“They went away from here yesterday afternoon.”
“Where are the commandoes?” he asked.
“I know nothing about the commandoes.”
Then I told him that as the Kaffirs that were among the troops behaved
so badly and cruelly to women and children I did not want to have
anything to do with coloured people. I only had to deal with white
people, and so they must just keep the coloured ones away from me.
He was polite, and said, “Very well, Mrs De la Rey, you shall not be
troubled by the Kaffirs.”
But they kept coming continually to the waggon. I thought, “It is
rousing their appetite for burning.” A Kaffir had already told my boy
when he was by the fire that this waggon and tent would have to be
burnt.
Colonel Williams came to my daughter in front of the tent and asked
whose waggon it was. When she had told him came the cruel order, “It
does not matter to me whose waggon it is. The woman must get out, were
she the Queen herself, and the waggon and tent must be burnt.”
Then I thought to myself that I must now undergo that about which I
had heard so much from others. To think that poor women must see their
things taken away from them and burnt.
I was very angry, and I thought, “Do what you like, I shall say what I
think and what is right.”
I told them again then who I was, and said that I was not going to let
them burn my waggon.
For eighteen months long, ever since Lord Methuen sent me out of
Lichtenburg, I had wandered round with my children. If they wanted to
burn my things they would have to get an order from a superior officer.
I was not going to let them do it themselves.
The soldiers kept pressing closer. They had quite surrounded me. I
thought, “Who knows how cruel they are going to be?”
But here again I remembered that only as far as the Lord would let them
could they go and no further, and I did not lose faith.
Then suddenly the one with whom I had been talking drew his pocket-book
out and wrote an order that the waggon, the tent and the cows which I
had kept should not be touched and that no harm should be done on the
place. And this was just when, a little way off, in a dwelling-house,
they had completely taken and destroyed everything. They had taken away
from there all the blankets and more or less everything that the women
had had by them. They used to let this be done by the Kaffirs, who took
great pride in being able to act in such a manner to white women-folks.
And now the officer’s bad temper was quite cured. No one might come
near my waggon and tent now. The soldiers were ordered back; a guard
was stationed near us so that we might not be annoyed by the passers-by.
I was delivered from them the next day.
I was longing now to hear what had become of the people who had taken
the cattle with them.
The report came that evening that they had all been taken.
Then we heard the sound of riding, and we wondered if that could be
“khakis” again. As we were just a handful of women and children we
would far rather it were not more “khakis.” They came riding up. It was
Dr van Rennenkampf and Tom Sisk. How happy we were to see some of our
own people again! I heard from them then that all those with whom I had
let my cattle go had been taken prisoners.
There I was now, quite helpless. The people on the farm were very good,
but they, too, were equally helpless. We had no living animals that we
could use for “trekking.”
The doctor had his cart and mules, and therefore I told him he must
just stay here with us. I felt as if I could die of sorrow; I had no
wish now to stay any longer, but all my cattle were taken and I could
not get away.
There was nothing here to slaughter; however, I thought to myself that
things had always come right somehow or other up to now, and that it
would be the same this time also.
And there came a brave burgher with sheep for the women and children.
Thus did the Lord always provide that we never should be without
something to feed us.
And the doctor was there to ride for “mealies,” which was a great help
to us in those days.
The week was not yet over when we heard that the “khakis” were coming
back from Vryburg.
I said, “What am I going to do with the ‘khakis’ now? I thought they
were not coming back again.” And just a week after they had left, back
they were again. They came towards us in their thousands. However, the
doctor was with us now. Colonel Williams came up to me and said that
General Hamilton was coming to see me. He had news of General De la Rey.
“Very well,” I said, “let him come.”
Then came Hamilton with a telegram from General De la Rey asking him if
he had met me, and what had happened to me.
He said that he had answered that they had met me and had done nothing
to me, and that all was well with me. We did not know anything yet of
what they had been doing at Pretoria. We were anxious to have news of
the peace negotiations, but I could not hear anything more. The English
behaved reasonably this time and did us no harm. They wanted to stay
on in the place, but there was not enough water for such a large army,
therefore they went away again.
I was so unhappy that I had lost all my oxen; and now the water, that
had always been troubled, was so dirty, owing to all the troops that
had been staying there, that I felt still less inclination to stop on.
Fortunately Mr D. van der Merwe succeeded in escaping with the
Government cattle. He gave me two beasts to be slaughtered and two
milch cows.
It was sad to hear the tales of how the “khakis” were now behaving to
the people. A woman came to me weeping and grieving bitterly.
“What is the matter with you?” I said.
“Oh, they have taken away my big Bible, in which all my children’s
names were entered. They have taken everything away--nothing is left to
me; but if only I could get my Bible back!”
I said, “Why did you not hold it in your arms when the ‘khakis’ were
taking everything away?”
“Oh,” she said, “I and my children were standing there watching
everything in bitter anguish. We were in a ruined house. When they
drove the door in I could not bear to be with them any longer, and
I went out of the house with the children; and so they took it away
without my seeing.”
I said, “I think I should have been able to get it back for you; but
now they have, unfortunately, all gone away, and I am afraid I cannot
help you.”
These were the hardest days of all for me. My flour had come to an end,
and although the Boers had a small flour mill with them when they were
fleeing, I was not able to get at it, so that I had to use my coffee
mill for grinding. Having so many children with me made it very hard
sometimes; but the children had also been through so much by this time
that every difficulty gradually righted itself.
As they were still very young, and had always been used to go regularly
to school, it was often very wearying for them. It is not very
comfortable to be constantly wandering over the veldt, especially in
this fashion.
As we were here to-day and in another place to-morrow, it often
happened that we could not get a maid to do the washing. Then the
children would have to do it themselves. They would take the clothes
and put them in the tub, and then Janne and Hester would have to tread
on them. But Janne was such a little monkey, he was always playing
tricks on Hester, and then she would have to undo all his mischief, and
by herself tread the clothes up and down till they were clean enough
for the two little girls to finish washing them. Sometimes there was
very little soap. They would make starch out of green “mealies” (Indian
corn).
There were many burghers who had been schoolmasters before the war.
When any of them were near my waggons they would keep school for the
children. After the waggons had been outspanned they would all sit
under a shady tree with the master and have lessons. People were often
surprised to see how well we were getting on for fugitives. I said, “It
does not all go as smoothly as you think;” but I often wondered myself
when I thought of how we got through day after day.
We kept the calves close to the waggons, and while we were “trekking”
they would be marched alongside of the oxen. The cows were sent on
ahead, so that they could be milked in the evening; and as long as the
children could have milk they were always content. Sometimes we would
put the milk into a stone bottle, and thus be able to get butter[7]
and sour milk as well. Our supply of coffee, though running short,
was not yet quite finished. As we had so little left, I used to cut
up petatas[8] into small dice and dry and burn them. These I would
mix with the coffee beans--one-fourth of coffee to three-fourths of
petatas--and grind it all up together. This mixture made quite good
coffee.
[7] _Butter._--Owing to the shaking of the waggon when “trekking,” the
milk in the stone bottle would gradually be churned into butter.
[8] _Petatas._--A species of potato.
We had all sorts of difficulties. The poor burghers were very badly
off for clothes. They began tanning sheepskins and using them. We got
quite clever at dressing the skins, and they were soft and clean. If
a man had a pair of trousers almost worn out he would patch them up
with skins. It was the same thing with boots. We called them “armoured”
clothes. The women and children took “kombaarzen”[9] and made skirts
and jackets out of them.
[9] _Kombaarzen._--Blankets. In this case the blankets taken from the
enemy.
I had always kept up through everything. If life grew too hard in one
place I would move on to another; but when I had lost my cattle, and
could not leave when I wanted, many a day fell heavily on me. However,
thanks to the doctor and to a Frenchman who remained near us, things
were better than they otherwise might have been.
We were waiting in great suspense to hear the result of the
negotiations. At last there came a man with the news that peace had
been declared on the 1st of June. It was wonderful. I had been so
anxious to hear if it would be peace, and now when the news came I
could not be joyful. I knew nothing for certain yet about the terms,
and I thought, “That is the reason why I do not feel happier, although
it is two years and six months now since we began this dreadful and
pitiless struggle from which we have so often longed to be delivered.”
The children were very happy. The doctor and our Frenchman still had
their horses, and they rode off that same day. Other burghers fired
their guns into the air for joy. They did not know what sort of a peace
it was, but for the moment they could only rejoice.
I did not want to stay any longer where I was, but had still no oxen. A
short way off there was a man who had a span of Government oxen. I sent
my boy to this man to get them from him so that I should be able to
return to my own district.
He sent the oxen, and everything was soon ready for the start,
although, as I had always had two waggons with me before, it was very
difficult to get everything packed into one. Whatever I was not able
to load I left behind me. We had been in this place now for more than
a month, and the people were sorry to see us going away. But, however
hard it might be for me, on I went.
The waggon was heavy and the road very sandy, so that very often the
children had to get out and walk alongside the waggon. The first place
we came to belonged to Widow Lemmer. The poor old woman was very
unhappy, for that very week the “khakis” had taken away her cows and
everything else that she had remaining.
From there I went on again, but heard no talk of peace. I went past the
Zoutspannen to the place belonging to G. Stolz.
I stopped there that Sunday. In the afternoon it was peaceful, and yet
I felt so sorrowful. Saturday night I could not sleep, and that night
I said to my daughter Ada, “I cannot think why I feel like this about
the peace. If only it is not a surrender of arms, this peace that they
talk of! But no,” I said, “it cannot be anything like that, for then it
would not be peace.”
At ten o’clock next morning my children and I all met together for
worship.
I felt very much affected. There had been so many Sundays spent in
making war, and now to-day it was peace. Therefore I said to my
children, “We have been through so many hard and bitter days, and the
Almighty Father has brought us safely through our weary pilgrimage.
Let us now thank Him with all our hearts.” I felt that it was only
God’s goodness that had spared us from falling into the hands of our
adversary.
That afternoon I went to lie down for a little in my waggon. At four
o’clock in the afternoon Liebenberg arrived from Klerksdorp and came
to my waggon with the report of peace. And now I had to hear that it
was indeed a surrender of our arms.
I did not know how to pacify my children; they wept bitterly, and
could not find words for their indignation. And yet it was peace all
the same. I said to them, “Let us keep silence; later on we shall
understand it all.”
I stayed there till Monday morning. As Liebenberg had come to take me
to Klerksdorp, and as from there I should be able to go on to Pretoria,
I soon thought to myself, “What a joy it will be when I can meet my
children again, after having been separated from them for nearly two
years.”
But this peace was so distasteful that I could not get over the thought
of it.
When everything was packed we made ready to start. While I was driving
I took my day-book. The text for that morning was Gen. xxii. 7: “And
Abraham said God will provide....”
Now we went on quickly. I met on that road none but sorrowing women and
children. I said sometimes, “Where can the poor burghers be that we do
not meet them?”
After having travelled for a couple of days we came to Mr D. van der
Merwe’s place. There I met several burghers. Van der Merwe was a good
and clever man and I was glad to be able to talk with him. He told me
that, however incomprehensible it might all seem, he was sure that the
officers after having struggled so long and so bitterly would now also
do their best.
As they had first gone to the Zwartruggens and Marico to see that the
arms were all given up, I had not seen any of them yet.
We were now in the Lichtenburg district. I waited at Mr van der Merwe’s
place. It was bitterly cold. It snowed for three days, and during all
my wanderings this was the worst cold I had experienced. And there was
no house to shelter us. There were plenty of buildings there, but all
were more or less in ruins. It was dreadful to see them. Now came the
time when the burghers in this neighbourhood also had to give up their
arms.
On the 12th of June the last gun had been given up in the Lichtenburg
district. That evening my people came for the first time to my tent. I
thought how bitter it was to meet them in this way. My husband came to
me and my son, little Coos. Little Coos cried, “Mamma, I have still got
my gun.”