It has already been narrated how, upon the arrival of the army corps
from England, the greater part was drafted to Natal, while some went
to the western side, and started under Lord Methuen upon the perilous
enterprise of the relief of Kimberley. It has also been shown how, after
three expensive victories, Lord Methuen's force met with a paralysing
reverse, and was compelled to remain inactive within twenty miles of the
town which they had come to succour. Before I describe how that succour
did eventually arrive, some attention must be paid to the incidents
which had occurred within the city.
'I am directed to assure you that there is no reason for apprehending
that Kimberley or any part of the colony either is, or in any
contemplated event will be, in danger of attack. Mr. Schreiner is of
opinion that your fears are groundless and your anticipations in the
matter entirely without foundation.' Such is the official reply to the
remonstrance of the inhabitants, when, with the shadow of war dark
upon them, they appealed for help. It is fortunate, however, that a
progressive British town has usually the capacity for doing things for
itself without the intervention of officials. Kimberley was particularly
lucky in being the centre of the wealthy and alert De Beers Company,
which had laid in sufficient ammunition and supplies to prevent the town
from being helpless in the presence of the enemy. But the cannon were
popguns, firing a 7-pound shell for a short range, and the garrison
contained only seven hundred regulars, while the remainder were
mostly untrained miners and artisans. Among them, however, there was a
sprinkling of dangerous men from the northern wars, and all were nerved
by a knowledge that the ground which they defended was essential to the
Empire. Ladysmith was no more than any other strategic position, but
Kimberley was unique, the centre of the richest tract of ground for its
size in the whole world. Its loss would have been a heavy blow to the
British cause, and an enormous encouragement to the Boers.
On October 12th, several hours after the expiration of Kruger's
ultimatum, Cecil Rhodes threw himself into Kimberley. This remarkable
man, who stood for the future of South Africa as clearly as the Dopper
Boer stood for its past, had, both in features and in character, some
traits which may, without extravagance, be called Napoleonic. The
restless energy, the fertility of resource, the attention to detail,
the wide sweep of mind, the power of terse comment--all these recall
the great emperor. So did the simplicity of private life in the midst of
excessive wealth. And so finally did a want of scruple where an ambition
was to be furthered, shown, for example, in that enormous donation to
the Irish party by which he made a bid for their parliamentary support,
and in the story of the Jameson raid. A certain cynicism of mind and a
grim humour complete the parallel. But Rhodes was a Napoleon of peace.
The consolidation of South Africa under the freest and most progressive
form of government was the large object on which he had expended his
energies and his fortune but the development of the country in every
conceivable respect, from the building of a railway to the importation
of a pedigree bull, engaged his unremitting attention.
It was on October 15th that the fifty thousand inhabitants of Kimberley
first heard the voice of war. It rose and fell in a succession of
horrible screams and groans which travelled far over the veld, and the
outlying farmers marvelled at the dreadful clamour from the sirens and
the hooters of the great mines. Those who have endured all--the rifle,
the cannon, and the hunger--have said that those wild whoops from the
sirens were what had tried their nerve the most.
The Boers in scattered bands of horsemen were thick around the town,
and had blocked the railroad. They raided cattle upon the outskirts,
but made no attempt to rush the defence. The garrison, who, civilian and
military, approached four thousand in number, lay close in rifle pit
and redoubt waiting for an attack which never came. The perimeter to be
defended was about eight miles, but the heaps of tailings made admirable
fortifications, and the town had none of those inconvenient heights
around it which had been such bad neighbours to Ladysmith. Picturesque
surroundings are not favourable to defence.
On October 24th the garrison, finding that no attack was made,
determined upon a reconnaissance. The mounted force, upon which most of
the work and of the loss fell, consisted of the Diamond Fields Horse, a
small number of Cape Police, a company of Mounted Infantry, and a
body called the Kimberley Light Horse. With two hundred and seventy
volunteers from this force Major Scott-Turner, a redoubtable fighter,
felt his way to the north until he came in touch with the Boers. The
latter, who were much superior in numbers, manoeuvred to cut him off,
but the arrival of two companies of the North Lancashire Regiment turned
the scale in our favour. We lost three killed and twenty-one wounded in
the skirmish. The Boer loss is unknown, but their commander Botha was
slain.
On November 4th Commandant Wessels formally summoned the town, and it is
asserted that he gave Colonel Kekewich leave to send out the women and
children. That officer has been blamed for not taking advantage of
the permission--or at the least for not communicating it to the
civil authorities. As a matter of fact the charge rests upon a
misapprehension. In Wessels' letter a distinction is made between
Africander and English women, the former being offered an asylum in his
camp. This offer was made known, and half a dozen persons took advantage
of it. The suggestion, however, in the case of the English carried
with it no promise that they would be conveyed to Orange River, and a
compliance with it would have put them as helpless hostages into the
hands of the enemy. As to not publishing the message it is not usual to
publish such official documents, but the offer was shown to Mr. Rhodes,
who concurred in the impossibility of accepting it.
It is difficult to allude to this subject without touching upon
the painful but notorious fact that there existed during the siege
considerable friction between the military authorities and a section of
the civilians, of whom Mr. Rhodes was chief. Among other characteristics
Rhodes bore any form of restraint very badly, and chafed mightily when
unable to do a thing in the exact way which he considered best. He
may have been a Napoleon of peace, but his warmest friends could never
describe him as a Napoleon of war, for his military forecasts have been
erroneous, and the management of the Jameson fiasco certainly inspired
no confidence in the judgment of any one concerned. That his intentions
were of the best, and that he had the good of the Empire at heart,
may be freely granted; but that these motives should lead him to cabal
against, and even to threaten, the military governor, or that he should
attempt to force Lord Roberts's hand in a military operation, was most
deplorable. Every credit may be given to him for all his aid to the
military--he gave with a good grace what the garrison would otherwise
have had to commandeer--but it is a fact that the town would have been
more united, and therefore stronger, without his presence. Colonel
Kekewich and his chief staff officer, Major O'Meara, were as much
plagued by intrigue within as by the Boers without.
On November 7th the bombardment of the town commenced from nine
9-pounder guns to which the artillery of the garrison could give no
adequate reply. The result, however, of a fortnight's fire, during
which seven hundred shells were discharged, was the loss of two
non-combatants. The question of food was recognised as being of more
importance than the enemy's fire. An early relief appeared probable,
however, as the advance of Methuen's force was already known. One pound
of bread, two ounces of sugar, and half a pound of meat were allowed per
head. It was only on the small children that the scarcity of milk told
with tragic effect. At Ladysmith, at Mafeking, and at Kimberley hundreds
of these innocents were sacrificed.
November 25th was a red-letter day with the garrison, who made a sortie
under the impression that Methuen was not far off, and that they were
assisting his operations. The attack was made upon one of the Boer
positions by a force consisting of a detachment of the Light Horse
and of the Cape Police, and their work was brilliantly successful. The
actual storming of the redoubt was carried out by some forty men, of
whom but four were killed. They brought back thirty-three prisoners as a
proof of their victory, but the Boer gun, as usual, escaped us. In this
brilliant affair Scott-Turner was wounded, which did not prevent
him, only three days later, from leading another sortie, which was as
disastrous as the first had been successful. Save under very exceptional
circumstances it is in modern warfare long odds always upon the defence,
and the garrison would probably have been better advised had they
refrained from attacking the fortifications of their enemy--a truth
which Baden-Powell learned also at Game Tree Hill. As it was, after a
temporary success the British were blown back by the fierce Mauser fire,
and lost the indomitable Scott-Turner, with twenty-one of his brave
companions killed and twenty-eight wounded, all belonging to the
colonial corps. The Empire may reflect with pride that the people in
whose cause mainly they fought showed themselves by their gallantry and
their devotion worthy of any sacrifice which has been made.
Again the siege settled down to a monotonous record of decreasing
rations and of expectation. On December 10 there came a sign of hope
from the outside world. Far on the southern horizon a little golden
speck shimmered against the blue African sky. It was Methuen's balloon
gleaming in the sunshine. Next morning the low grumble of distant cannon
was the sweetest of music to the listening citizens. But days passed
without further news, and it was not for more than a week that they
learned of the bloody repulse of Magersfontein, and that help was once
more indefinitely postponed. Heliographic communication had been opened
with the relieving army, and it is on record that the first message
flashed through from the south was a question about the number of a
horse. With inconceivable stupidity this has been cited as an example of
military levity and incapacity. Of course the object of the question
was a test as to whether they were really in communication with the
garrison. It must be confessed that the town seems to have contained
some very querulous and unreasonable people.
The New Year found the beleaguered city reduced to a quarter of a pound
of meat per head, while the health of the inhabitants began to break
down under their confinement. Their interest, however, was keenly
aroused by the attempt made in the De Beers workshops to build a gun
which might reach their opponents. This remarkable piece of ordnance,
constructed by an American named Labram by the help of tools
manufactured for the purpose and of books found in the town, took the
shape eventually of a 28 lb. rifled gun, which proved to be a most
efficient piece of artillery. With grim humour, Mr. Rhodes's compliments
had been inscribed upon the shells--a fair retort in view of the openly
expressed threat of the enemy that in case of his capture they would
carry him in a cage to Pretoria.
The Boers, though held off for a time by this unexpected piece of
ordnance, prepared a terrible answer to it. On February 7th an enormous
gun, throwing a 96 lb. shell, opened from Kamfersdam, which is four
miles from the centre of the town. The shells, following the evil
precedent of the Germans in 1870, were fired not at the forts, but into
the thickly populated city. Day and night these huge missiles exploded,
shattering the houses and occasionally killing or maiming the occupants.
Some thousands of the women and children were conveyed down the mines,
where, in the electric-lighted tunnels, they lay in comfort and safety.
One surprising revenge the Boers had, for by an extraordinary chance
one of the few men killed by their gun was the ingenious Labram who had
constructed the 28-pounder. By an even more singular chance, Leon, who
was responsible for bringing the big Boer gun, was struck immediately
afterwards by a long-range rifle-shot from the garrison.
The historian must be content to give a tame account of the siege of
Kimberley, for the thing itself was tame. Indeed 'siege' is a misnomer,
for it was rather an investment or a blockade. Such as it was, however,
the inhabitants became very restless under it, and though there were
never any prospects of surrender the utmost impatience began to be
manifested at the protracted delay on the part of the relief force. It
was not till later that it was understood how cunningly Kimberley had
been used as a bait to hold the enemy until final preparations had been
made for his destruction.
And at last the great day came. It is on record how dramatic was the
meeting between the mounted outposts of the defenders and the advance
guard of the relievers, whose advent seems to have been equally
unexpected by friend and foe. A skirmish was in progress on February
15th between a party of the Kimberley Light Horse and of the Boers, when
a new body of horsemen, unrecognised by either side, appeared upon the
plain and opened fire upon the enemy. One of the strangers rode up to
the patrol. 'What the dickens does K.L. H. mean on your shoulder-strap?'
he asked. 'It means Kimberley Light Horse. Who are you?' 'I am one of
the New Zealanders.' Macaulay in his wildest dream of the future of the
much-quoted New Zealander never pictured him as heading a rescue force
for the relief of a British town in the heart of Africa.
The population had assembled to watch the mighty cloud of dust which
rolled along the south-eastern horizon. What was it which swept
westwards within its reddish heart? Hopeful and yet fearful they saw the
huge bank draw nearer and nearer. An assault from the whole of Cronje's
army was the thought which passed through many a mind. And then the
dust-cloud thinned, a mighty host of horsemen spurred out from it, and
in the extended far-flung ranks the glint of spearheads and the gleam of
scabbards told of the Hussars and Lancers, while denser banks on either
flank marked the position of the whirling guns. Wearied and spent with
a hundred miles' ride the dusty riders and the panting, dripping horses
took fresh heart as they saw the broad city before them, and swept with
martial rattle and jingle towards the cheering crowds. Amid shouts and
tears French rode into Kimberley while his troopers encamped outside the
town.
To know how this bolt was prepared and how launched, the narrative must
go back to the beginning of the month. At that period Methuen and his
men were still faced by Cronje and his entrenched forces, who, in spite
of occasional bombardments, held their position between Kimberley
and the relieving army. French, having handed over the operations at
Colesberg to Clements, had gone down to Cape Town to confer with Roberts
and Kitchener. Thence they all three made their way to the Modder River,
which was evidently about to be the base of a more largely conceived
series of operations than any which had yet been undertaken.
In order to draw the Boer attention away from the thunderbolt which was
about to fall upon their left flank, a strong demonstration ending in
a brisk action was made early in February upon the extreme right of
Cronje's position. The force, consisting of the Highland Brigade, two
squadrons of the 9th Lancers, No. 7 Co. Royal Engineers, and the 62nd
Battery, was under the command of the famous Hector Macdonald. 'Fighting
Mac' as he was called by his men, had joined his regiment as a private,
and had worked through the grades of corporal, sergeant, captain, major,
and colonel, until now, still in the prime of his manhood, he found
himself riding at the head of a brigade. A bony, craggy Scotsman, with
a square fighting head and a bulldog jaw, he had conquered the
exclusiveness and routine of the British service by the same dogged
qualities which made him formidable to Dervish and to Boer. With a
cool brain, a steady nerve, and a proud heart, he is an ideal leader of
infantry, and those who saw him manoeuvre his brigade in the crisis of
the battle of Omdurman speak of it as the one great memory which they
carried back from the engagement. On the field of battle he turns to the
speech of his childhood, the jagged, rasping, homely words which brace
the nerves of the northern soldier. This was the man who had come from
India to take the place of poor Wauchope, and to put fresh heart into
the gallant but sorely stricken brigade.
The four regiments which composed the infantry of the force--the Black
Watch, the Argyll and Sutherlands, the Seaforths, and the Highland Light
Infantry--left Lord Methuen's camp on Saturday, February 3rd, and halted
at Fraser's Drift, passing on next day to Koodoosberg. The day was very
hot, and the going very heavy, and many men fell out, some never to
return. The drift (or ford) was found, however, to be undefended, and
was seized by Macdonald, who, after pitching camp on the south side
of the river, sent out strong parties across the drift to seize and
entrench the Koodoosberg and some adjacent kopjes which, lying some
three-quarters of a mile to the north-west of the drift formed the key
of the position. A few Boer scouts were seen hurrying with the news of
his coming to the head laager.
The effect of these messages was evident by Tuesday (February 6th),
when the Boers were seen to be assembling upon the north bank. By next
morning they were there in considerable numbers, and began an attack
upon a crest held by the Seaforths. Macdonald threw two companies of the
Black Watch and two of the Highland Light Infantry into the fight. The
Boers made excellent practice with a 7-pounder mountain gun, and their
rifle fire, considering the good cover which our men had, was very
deadly. Poor Tait, of the Black Watch, good sportsman and gallant
soldier, with one wound hardly healed upon his person, was hit again.
'They've got me this time,' were his dying words. Blair, of the
Seaforths, had his carotid cut by a shrapnel bullet, and lay for hours
while the men of his company took turns to squeeze the artery. But our
artillery silenced the Boer gun, and our infantry easily held their
riflemen. Babington with the cavalry brigade arrived from the camp about
1.30, moving along the north bank of the river. In spite of the fact
that men and horses were weary from a tiring march, it was hoped by
Macdonald's force that they would work round the Boers and make an
attempt to capture either them or their gun. But the horsemen seem not
to have realised the position of the parties, or that possibility
of bringing off a considerable coup, so the action came to a tame
conclusion, the Boers retiring unpursued from their attack. On Thursday,
February 8th, they were found to have withdrawn, and on the same evening
our own force was recalled, to the surprise and disappointment of the
public at home, who had not realised that in directing their attention
to their right flank the column had already produced the effect upon
the enemy for which they had been sent. They could not be left there, as
they were needed for those great operations which were pending. It
was on the 9th that the brigade returned; on the 10th they were
congratulated by Lord Roberts in person; and on the 11th those
new dispositions were made which were destined not only to relieve
Kimberley, but to inflict a blow upon the Boer cause from which it was
never able to recover.
Small, brown, and wrinkled, with puckered eyes and alert manner, Lord
Roberts in spite of his sixty-seven years preserves the figure and
energy of youth. The active open-air life of India keeps men fit for the
saddle when in England they would only sit their club armchairs, and
it is hard for any one who sees the wiry figure and brisk step of Lord
Roberts to realise that he has spent forty-one years of soldiering in
what used to be regarded as an unhealthy climate. He had carried into
late life the habit of martial exercise, and a Russian traveller has
left it on record that the sight which surprised him most in India was
to see the veteran commander of the army ride forth with his spear and
carry off the peg with the skill of a practised trooper. In his early
youth he had shown in the Mutiny that he possessed the fighting energy
of the soldier to a remarkable degree, but it was only in the Afghan War
of 1880 that he had an opportunity of proving that he had rarer and more
valuable gifts, the power of swift resolution and determined execution.
At the crisis of the war he and his army disappeared entirely from
the public ken only to emerge dramatically as victors at a point three
hundred miles distant from where they had vanished.
It is not only as a soldier, but as a man, that Lord Roberts possesses
some remarkable characteristics. He has in a supreme degree that
magnetic quality which draws not merely the respect but the love of
those who know him. In Chaucer's phrase, he is a very perfect gentle
knight. Soldiers and regimental officers have for him a feeling of
personal affection such as the unemotional British Army has never had
for any leader in the course of our history. His chivalrous courtesy,
his unerring tact, his kindly nature, his unselfish and untiring
devotion to their interests have all endeared him to those rough loyal
natures, who would follow him with as much confidence and devotion as
the grognards of the Guard had in the case of the Great Emperor. There
were some who feared that in Roberts's case, as in so many more, the
donga and kopje of South Africa might form the grave and headstone of a
military reputation, but far from this being so he consistently showed a
wide sweep of strategy and a power of conceiving the effect of scattered
movements over a great extent of country which have surprised his
warmest admirers. In the second week of February his dispositions were
ready, and there followed the swift series of blows which brought
the Boers upon their knees. Of these we shall only describe here the
exploits of the fine force of cavalry which, after a ride of a hundred
miles, broke out of the heart of that reddish dustcloud and swept the
Boer besiegers away from hard-pressed Kimberley.
In order to strike unexpectedly, Lord Roberts had not only made a strong
demonstration at Koodoosdrift, at the other end of the Boer line, but he
had withdrawn his main force some forty miles south, taking them down
by rail to Belmont and Enslin with such secrecy that even commanding
officers had no idea whither the troops were going. The cavalry which
had come from French's command at Colesberg had already reached the
rendezvous, travelling by road to Naauwpoort, and thence by train.
This force consisted of the Carabineers, New South Wales Lancers,
Inniskillings, composite regiment of Household Cavalry, 10th Hussars,
with some mounted infantry and two batteries of Horse Artillery, making
a force of nearly three thousand sabres. To this were added the 9th and
12th Lancers from Modder River, the 16th Lancers from India, the Scots
Greys, which had been patrolling Orange River from the beginning of
the war, Rimington's Scouts, and two brigades of mounted infantry under
Colonels Ridley and Hannay. The force under this latter officer had a
severe skirmish on its way to the rendezvous and lost fifty or sixty in
killed, wounded, and missing. Five other batteries of Horse Artillery
were added to the force, making seven in all, with a pontoon section of
Royal Engineers. The total number of men was about five thousand. By the
night of Sunday, February 11th, this formidable force had concentrated
at Ramdam, twenty miles north-east of Belmont, and was ready to advance.
At two in the morning of Monday, February 12th, the start was made, and
the long sinuous line of night-riders moved off over the shadowy veld,
the beat of twenty thousand hoofs, the clank of steel, and the rumble of
gunwheels and tumbrils swelling into a deep low roar like the surge upon
the shingle.
Two rivers, the Riet and the Modder, intervened between French and
Kimberley. By daylight on the 12th the head of his force had reached
Waterval Drift, which was found to be defended by a body of Boers with a
gun. Leaving a small detachment to hold them, French passed his men over
Dekiel's Drift, higher up the stream, and swept the enemy out of his
position. This considerable force of Boers had come from Jacobsdal, and
were just too late to get into position to resist the crossing. Had we
been ten minutes later, the matter would have been much more serious. At
the cost of a very small loss he held both sides of the ford, but it was
not until midnight that the whole long column was brought across, and
bivouacked upon the northern bank. In the morning the strength of the
force was enormously increased by the arrival of one more horseman. It
was Roberts himself, who had ridden over to give the men a send-off, and
the sight of his wiry erect figure and mahogany face sent them full of
fire and confidence upon their way.
But the march of this second day (February 13th) was a military
operation of some difficulty. Thirty long waterless miles had to be done
before they could reach the Modder, and it was possible that even then
they might have to fight an action before winning the drift. The
weather was very hot, and through the long day the sun beat down from an
unclouded sky, while the soldiers were only shaded by the dust-bank
in which they rode. A broad arid plain, swelling into stony hills,
surrounded them on every side. Here and there in the extreme distance,
mounted figures moved over the vast expanse--Boer scouts who marked
in amazement the advance of this great array. Once or twice these men
gathered together, and a sputter of rifle fire broke out upon our left
flank, but the great tide swept on and carried them with it. Often in
this desolate land the herds of mottled springbok and of grey rekbok
could be seen sweeping over the plain, or stopping with that curiosity
upon which the hunter trades, to stare at the unwonted spectacle.
So all day they rode, hussars, dragoons, and lancers, over the withered
veld, until men and horses drooped with the heat and the exertion. A
front of nearly two miles was kept, the regiments moving two abreast in
open order; and the sight of this magnificent cloud of horsemen sweeping
over the great barren plain was a glorious one. The veld had caught
fire upon the right, and a black cloud of smoke with a lurid heart to
it covered the flank. The beat of the sun from above and the swelter
of dust from below were overpowering. Gun horses fell in the traces
and died of pure exhaustion. The men, parched and silent, but cheerful,
strained their eyes to pierce the continual mirage which played over the
horizon, and to catch the first glimpse of the Modder. At last, as the
sun began to slope down to the west, a thin line of green was discerned,
the bushes which skirt the banks of that ill-favoured stream. With
renewed heart the cavalry pushed on and made for the drift, while
Major Rimington, to whom the onerous duty of guiding the force had been
entrusted, gave a sigh of relief as he saw that he had indeed struck the
very point at which he had aimed.
The essential thing in the movements had been speed--to reach each point
before the enemy could concentrate to oppose them. Upon this it depended
whether they would find five hundred or five thousand waiting on the
further bank. It must have been with anxious eyes that French watched
his first regiment ride down to Klip Drift. If the Boers should have had
notice of his coming and have transferred some of their 40-pounders, he
might lose heavily before he forced the stream. But this time, at last,
he had completely outmanoeuvred them. He came with the news of his
coming, and Broadwood with the 12th Lancers rushed the drift. The small
Boer force saved itself by flight, and the camp, the wagons, and the
supplies remained with the victors. On the night of the 13th he had
secured the passage of the Modder, and up to the early morning the
horses and the guns were splashing through its coffee-coloured waters.
French's force had now come level to the main position of the Boers, but
had struck it upon the extreme left wing. The extreme right wing, thanks
to the Koodoosdrift demonstration, was fifty miles off, and this line
was naturally very thinly held, save only at the central position of
Magersfontein. Cronje could not denude this central position, for he
saw Methuen still waiting in front of him, and in any case Klip Drift
is twenty-five miles from Magersfontein. But the Boer left wing, though
scattered, gathered into some sort of cohesion on Wednesday (February
14th), and made an effort to check the victorious progress of the
cavalry. It was necessary on this day to rest at Klip Drift, until
Kelly-Kenny should come up with the infantry to hold what had been
gained. All day the small bodies of Boers came riding in and taking up
positions between the column and its objective.
Next morning the advance was resumed, the column being still forty miles
from Kimberley with the enemy in unknown force between. Some four miles
out French came upon their position, two hills with a long low nek
between, from which came a brisk rifle fire supported by artillery. But
French was not only not to be stopped, but could not even be retarded.
Disregarding the Boer fire completely the cavalry swept in wave after
wave over the low nek, and so round the base of the hills. The Boer
riflemen upon the kopjes must have seen a magnificent military spectacle
as regiment after regiment, the 9th Lancers leading, all in very open
order, swept across the plain at a gallop, and so passed over the nek.
A few score horses and half as many men were left behind them, but forty
or fifty Boers were cut down in the pursuit. It appears to have been
one of the very few occasions during the campaign when that obsolete and
absurd weapon the sword was anything but a dead weight to its bearer.
And now the force had a straight run in before it, for it had outpaced
any further force of Boers which may have been advancing from the
direction of Magersfontein. The horses, which had come a hundred miles
in four days with insufficient food and water, were so done that it was
no uncommon sight to see the trooper not only walking to ease his horse,
but carrying part of his monstrous weight of saddle gear. But in spite
of fatigue the force pressed on until in the afternoon a distant view
was seen, across the reddish plain, of the brick houses and corrugated
roofs of Kimberley. The Boer besiegers cleared off in front of it, and
that night (February 15th) the relieving column camped on the plain two
miles away, while French and his staff rode in to the rescued city.
The war was a cruel one for the cavalry, who were handicapped throughout
by the nature of the country and by the tactics of the enemy. They are
certainly the branch of the service which had least opportunity for
distinction. The work of scouting and patrolling is the most dangerous
which a soldier can undertake, and yet from its very nature it can find
no chronicler. The war correspondent, like Providence, is always with
the big battalions, and there never was a campaign in which there was
more unrecorded heroism, the heroism of the picket and of the vedette
which finds its way into no newspaper paragraph. But in the larger
operations of the war it is difficult to say that cavalry, as cavalry,
have justified their existence. In the opinion of many the tendency of
the future will be to convert the whole force into mounted infantry. How
little is required to turn our troopers into excellent foot soldiers
was shown at Magersfontein, where the 12th Lancers, dismounted by the
command of their colonel, Lord Airlie, held back the threatened flank
attack all the morning. A little training in taking cover, leggings
instead of boots, and a rifle instead of a carbine would give us a
formidable force of twenty thousand men who could do all that our
cavalry does, and a great deal more besides. It is undoubtedly possible
on many occasions in this war, at Colesberg, at Diamond Hill, to say
'Here our cavalry did well.' They are brave men on good horses, and they
may be expected to do well. But the champion of the cavalry cause must
point out the occasions where the cavalry did something which could
not have been done by the same number of equally brave and equally
well-mounted infantry. Only then will the existence of the cavalry be
justified. The lesson both of the South African and of the American
civil war is that the light horseman who is trained to fight on foot is
the type of the future.
A few more words as a sequel to this short sketch of the siege and
relief of Kimberley. Considerable surprise has been expressed that the
great gun at Kamfersdam, a piece which must have weighed many tons and
could not have been moved by bullock teams at a rate of more than two
or three miles an hour, should have eluded our cavalry. It is indeed a
surprising circumstance, and yet it was due to no inertia on the part of
our leaders, but rather to one of the finest examples of Boer tenacity
in the whole course of the war. The instant that Kekewich was sure of
relief he mustered every available man and sent him out to endeavour to
get the gun. It had already been removed, and its retreat was covered by
the strong position of Dronfield, which was held both by riflemen and
by light artillery. Finding himself unable to force it, Murray, the
commander of the detachment, remained in front of it. Next morning
(Friday) at three o'clock the weary men and horses of two of French's
brigades were afoot with the same object. But still the Boers were
obstinately holding on to Dronfield, and still their position was too
strong to force, and too extended to get round with exhausted horses. It
was not until the night after that the Boers abandoned their excellent
rearguard action, leaving one light gun in the hands of the Cape Police,
but having gained such a start for their heavy one that French, who had
other and more important objects in view, could not attempt to follow
it.