Sunday, the 29th July 1900, must stand on record as the saddest day in the history of our struggle. It was on that day that General Marthinus Prinsloo unconditionally surrendered the whole of the forces under him to General Hunter, notwithstanding the fact that at that moment he was not Chief-Commandant according to law. But let me relate in due order what I experienced.
After having held a short service for the men of Harrismith early in the morning of that Sunday, General de Villiers and Piet Maré, member of the Volksraad, addressed them, and General Froneman, who happened to be present, also said a few words. We then passed through the nek to the north of the dwelling of Mr. Salamon Raath, for the purpose of taking up positions against the forces of the enemy under General MacDonald, with whom we had been engaged on the other side of the Roodebergen on the previous Thursday. Those forces had meanwhile moved round by "Davelsrust," with the object of preventing the commandos from escaping at Oldenburg or Witzieshoek.
General de Villiers rode to the house of Mr. Jan Raath to be present at a meeting of officers who had still to vote for the election of a Chief-Commandant. After they had voted, it appeared (so we learnt in the evening) that General Roux had finally been elected Chief-Commandant!
When General de Villiers, with his Field-Cornet, left for the meeting, he ordered his men to occupy a high hill near the residence of Mr. Jan Raath, and left one of the burghers in command during his absence. His burghers thereupon rode along a ditch on the way to the position, but before reaching it they turned off to the right and eventually halted near the house of Assistant Field-Cornet Jan Jacobsz. Here they slaughtered two oxen and ate and drank, preferring to avoid the enemy to fighting him! I saw how things would go. From the ridge behind us I had seen Platberg in the distance, at the foot of which Harrismith lies, and pointing in the direction of their homes I remarked to someone: "Next Sunday all these burghers will be on their farms."
A peremptory command was sent to the burghers to occupy their positions, but they got no farther than a gully; for the enemy was already in possession of the hill which we should have occupied in the morning, and all we could do now was to fire shrapnel at them. At night there was nothing left for us but to retire to the nek. We little knew then what General Prinsloo had been doing that day.
The following day I was up early, and accompanied Mr. Frans Papenfus to the house of A. Cilliers. There I drank a cup of coffee, and then rode on to Mr. Salamon Raath's. On the way thither a Harrismith burgher asked me if it was true that General Prinsloo had surrendered the whole of our force to the English. This was the first word I heard about the matter. I could, however, not believe that Prinsloo would do such a thing, and laughingly replied that the report was certainly incorrect. But very soon it became evident that what the burgher had heard was only too true. General Marthinus Prinsloo had indeed surrendered unconditionally to the enemy. A copy of a letter from General Hunter was handed round, in which he gave the assurance, subject to ratification by Lord Roberts, that no private property or personal belongings of the burghers should be touched, and that each burgher would be provided with a horse to the place where he had to give up his arms.
The greatest excitement prevailed. Many abused Prinsloo, and declared that he ought to be shot. This surprised me, not only because I knew what the resolution of the Council of War on the Friday night had been with regard to the surrender, but also because I had been an eye-witness of the state of despondency of the burghers and of their unwillingness to fight. If Prinsloo should be shot, surely other officers deserved the same fate, and many of the burghers as well. So I thought on that sad Monday morning. Later on, however, it became plain to me that, after all, General Prinsloo had to bear the blame. If there had been a victory he would have claimed the honour. Now, the disgrace of the surrender must for ever be associated with his name. Was he not Chief-Commandant, or at least did he not act as such? And is it not the duty of a Chief to instil courage, where such courage is on the wane, and to lead on where no one else would advance of his own accord? The Chief, indeed, should be the best, the most courageous, and the bravest burgher, else anyone might take upon himself the command of an army. Ah! if ever a leader was wanted, the perplexed multitude, shut up as they were within the mountains behind Nauwpoort, had need of one.
Most of the burghers thought they were bound by the resolution of General Prinsloo to submit and to lay down their arms. I thought so too. Why did we have a Commander if, under certain circumstances, we had to decide for ourselves without recognising him? Unfortunate are the people that in such a case have to decide for themselves. It was my impression that all was lost, at least as far as we who were behind Nauwpoort were concerned. There were, however, others who instinctively judged otherwise about the matter. The shame of surrender while there was a chance of escape by a route running past the dwelling of Salamon Raath seemed to be too great to them, and they declared that they would not lay down their arms.
On the other hand, there were others who, while they did not mind the loss of their independence so much, could simply not bear the thought of being captured, and I heard many say: "I shall not allow myself to be caught by an Englishman." There were also others who were already out of the defiles, and they could not think of returning. And so it happened that a number of burghers under Generals Kolbe and Froneman, and Commandants Olivier, Hasebroek, Visser, van Tonder, Truter, and others, with six guns and some Maxims, immediately moved away in the direction of Harrismith.
In the meanwhile it was said that some persons had been seen with a white flag on the nek to the north of Mr. Salamon Raath's house. General de Villiers went thither, but on the way he was told that they had disappeared.
On his return to his waggons he heard that these persons had been seen at another place.
Two burghers whom he sent to bring them to the laager failed to find them. Instead of returning at once, these two burghers, quite on their own responsibility and without orders, went straight to the English force under General MacDonald, who was then near the house of Jan Raath. The English General received them with the distrust of one who finds men from the army of the enemy coming into his camp without credentials; but eventually believing their statement, that they had missed meeting his messengers with the white flag, he sent them back with a letter to General de Villiers informing him that General Prinsloo had surrendered together with the whole of the Boer force. He asked General de Villiers to abide by what General Prinsloo had done, and warned him that any movement on his part would be regarded as an "act of war."
While this was taking place, another messenger had been sent in the opposite direction to General Hunter, to obtain further information regarding the surrender. This messenger was met by Commandant Visser, who immediately sent him back with the assurance that General Prinsloo, not being Chief-Commandant, had in this whole matter acted without authority, that the surrender was illegal, and that no one was to consider himself bound by it. General Fourie, who had not yet reached the farm of Salamon Raath, also sent a despatch to the officers requesting that their men should take up positions.
When the men of Harrismith who had not gone out with Commandant Truter heard this, their joy was boundless, for they had been in great doubt as to what they should do; especially after General de Villiers had said during the course of the day that he, being included under the surrender of General Prinsloo, was not an officer any longer, and therefore left it to each burgher to act as he might think fit. Now, however, he again took the command, and ordered the burghers to go into the positions.
With shouts of joy, and singing the "Volkslied," they rode out to occupy the nek. But they got no farther than the house of Salamon Raath, for it appeared that no one else wanted to fight any more. Meanwhile a meeting was held by the officers present, and at that meeting there were Field-Cornets who said that neither they nor their men would fight any longer, declaring at the same time that the leaders, if they continued the struggle, would be guilty of needless bloodshed.
And so the positions remained unoccupied.
This made everybody there hopeless again, and now it appeared that there was nothing left but to remain there and surrender. General de Villiers called his burghers together, and thanked them for the services they had rendered to the State and for the attachment and kindness shown to his person. I also spoke a few words and declared amongst other things, that I could not believe that it was all over with our South African Cause, but if it were so, then it would be owing to our unwillingness. God would have wished to establish for us our independence, but we should have refused to earn it.
In the course of the day General Roux had ridden in the greatest haste to General Hunter to protest against the surrender of Prinsloo, on the ground of its being illegal: first, because he, and not Prinsloo, was the commanding officer; and secondly, because Prinsloo had in any case not acted in accordance with the resolution taken by the Council of War on Friday night. General Roux, as might have been expected, did not return.
The only two Generals who were beyond the circle of mountains which surround Oldenberg, and who could have proceeded onward, were Generals P. Fourie and C. T. de Villiers. They agreed to remain where they were for that night, not far from the house of Mr. Salamon Raath, in order to ascertain on the following day what General Roux had been able to do; but before dawn of the following day, General de Villiers heard that General Fourie had gone away without saying a word about it[4] Great was the indignation of General de Villiers. He immediately ordered his men to inspan and saddle their horses. We hurried away, and I arrived at Harrismith in the evening, after two of the saddest weeks of my life. How dejected I felt. How sad was my wife. How dark the future seemed to be.
I had felt very much discouraged on the farm of Mr. Salamon Raath. There I had thought that all was lost—at any rate as far as the commandos behind Nauwpoort were concerned. There is no doubt that the burghers noticed it in my behaviour, and inferred it from my language.
There was indeed much to cause this melancholy state of mind: the disposition of the burghers to retreat, the discouraging words of some officers, the expressive silence of others; and when we heard at last that matters had reached a climax in the unconditional surrender of General Prinsloo, the coup de grâce, so to speak, was given to my hopes.
I of course attached no importance to the braggadocio of those who loudly declared that Prinsloo ought to be shot, while they themselves were the most unwilling to go into positions, or deserted those positions on the bursting of the first shells there. They could not rectify matters by boasting, nor did it give me any assurance of a brighter future. But on the morning after I awoke at Harrismith I felt more sanguine; and it grieved me that I, who had always spoken words of encouragement, should have shown signs of despondency; and I felt now that I ought to stand by those who wanted to continue the struggle, and remain with them till the end, come what may. I recalled also what I had written to the President not long before, namely, that it was my intention to attach myself to those who would rally round him at the last, if it became necessary. Now, as Olivier, Hasebroek, and others had decided to go to the President and General de Wet in order to be reorganised, I decided to go too. If the struggle had to be given up, let our Government give it up.
In order to carry out this resolution, I rode away from Harrismith early next morning, in order to proceed to Zwart Klip, the farm of General de Villiers, and with him to accompany the commandos that had escaped, in their search for the President and General de Wet. That morning I reached the farm of Mr. Matheus Maré. As, however, the English did not on that day arrive at Harrismith, I returned in the evening to spend another night with my family. But this could not be, for I found there were straggling bands from the commandos in town who were taking horses out of the stables, whether they belonged to friend or enemy; and I saw that if I wanted to make sure of a horse to ride, it would be better not to trust to the chance of finding my horses in the stable at daybreak. Therefore, when de Villiers and some others resolved to leave Harrismith immediately, I determined to do the same and accompany them. So at midnight between the 1st and 2nd of August 1900, I parted from my wife and children, and proceeded to the farm of Mr. Stephanus Schoeman. On the following day I obtained from Mr. Schoeman the loan of a strong pony (on the previous day I had got an excellent horse from Mr. Adriaan Dolebout); and we rode away.
On the way to Zwart Klip we passed the commandos, and heard that English officers had followed the burghers with a white flag, and advised them to surrender. These messengers were sent back with the answer that the burghers had no intention whatever of doing any such thing. On the way I met two of our principal men, who had hitherto been amongst the warmest supporters of our cause, but whose names I shall not here record. They were in no very hopeful mood, and it seemed to me that very little was needed to induce them to go and lay down their arms.
This did not tend to cheer me; but I was encouraged somewhat when later in the day I spoke to Jan Jacobsz, Louw Wepener, and others, and noticed how firmly resolved they were to continue the struggle.
On the following day a meeting of Harrismith burghers was held at Molen River bridge. At that meeting it was resolved to send the English Generals a letter informing them that it was our opinion that, for the reasons already stated, we regarded the action of General Marthinus Prinsloo in surrendering himself with the whole of the force as illegal; also that it was our firm resolve to continue the struggle. Further, General de Villiers was enjoined to commandeer the Harrismith burghers anew. This he did that same afternoon, and sent one "commandeer list" with Mr. Jacob van Reenen to Field-Cornet Gert Pretorius, and another with Piet Grabe to Assistant Field-Cornet Johannas Loots. In the evening we heard that the enemy were at Glen Lennie on their way to Harrismith, and that a patrol had already reached the town commonage. We then knew that before the sun would set once more our town would be in possession of the English. There remained, therefore, nothing for us to do but to make the last preparations for taking our departure. Everything was made ready that same evening, and early next morning we proceeded to join the other commandos.
Here it must be noted that there were many in the district of Harrismith who regarded these commandos with the greatest contempt, and who indulged in very strong language regarding them. These commandos were—so they said—very uncontrolled, taking everywhere what they wanted from shops and farms.
It was further alleged that they thought of nothing but running away; and it was argued that this was proved not only by the fact that they had retreated from Nauwpoort, but also by their contriving to avoid the enemy even after they had escaped from the mountains.
This was the excuse which many of the burghers of Harrismith gave for surrendering a few days later. They were, they declared, unwilling to accompany and act with a band of robbers; and thought it better to lay down their arms immediately than to carry, and not fight with them.
The answer to this is not far to seek. That the commandos were demoralised was evident; no one with his eyes open could doubt this. But now they went to their President and Commander-in-Chief! Why? Was it not for the sole and only purpose of getting breathing-time?—to get reorganised? And was it not therefore the duty of everyone to join those who were going to the Government for that purpose? Surely no burgher had the right to turn his back upon his Government, whilst it was still in existence, and whilst the road by which to reach it remained open.—By not doing this they made themselves guilty of desertion.
This weighed heavily with me, and although I saw much in the burghers that I most strongly disapproved of, and although I had myself not yet wholly regained my former hopefulness, I could not regard the matter from any other point of view than that, so long as the President had not surrendered, I could not do so either, and that it was my duty to stay with those who did not intend doing so. And thus it occurred that I began a journey, which was to last twenty-one months, on Saturday, the 4th of August 1900.
I was one of a small company of which General de Villiers was the chief person. He did not at that juncture enjoy a very high reputation, because there was no lack of persons who declared that he had not acted in good faith at Nauwpoort, and that he had been in league with the enemy. I was convinced of the contrary, and remained in his company. I had enjoyed his hospitality when all went well with him, and now I would not desert him when his sky had become clouded.
We reached the commandos at Gwarri Kop, near Cornelius River, and we learnt there that messengers from the British had again come to insist upon our surrender.
How much trouble did the Generals to whom Prinsloo had surrendered not take to induce us to desert! What noble work it was for warriors to do! If the English had succeeded in this the war would have been brought to an end, without their having the trouble of fighting any more. But what would Lord Roberts have thought of it if our positions could have been reversed, and if we had sent messenger upon messenger to his discouraged and weary subordinates and soldiers to persuade them to be unfaithful to their country and their flag? Our leaders were steadfast, and sent the English officers back with the message, that not only had we no intention of surrendering, but that we also did not wish to receive any more messengers with similar proposals.
The following day, being Sunday, I held a service in the house of Mr. David de Villiers, at Holspruit, and then rode to the commando to see if I could be of any use there. But that faithful Free Stater, the student MacDonald, was just busy holding service. I was greatly edified and comforted by his interpretation of the words, "I will lift mine eyes to the hills from whence cometh my help!"
During the week we heard from our President. His letter was in answer to a report, despatched immediately after the Nauwpoort affair, informing him of the state of affairs. He expressed himself deeply grieved at the surrender, and appointed General P. Fourie as Acting Chief-Commandant. He also mentioned that many burghers had taken up arms again, and urged us to come to him as speedily as possible. A few days after this, Judge Hertzog came to us. He said that he had been sent to lead us to the President and the Chief-Commandant, and brought us the latest news from the Transvaal.
We now travelled a long distance every night, halting during the day. Our way of "trekking" was to begin at nightfall and to continue till about midnight or two o'clock in the morning, and then to tie the oxen to the yokes and hobble the horses. This "trekking" was not pleasant; for the weather continued bitterly cold, and to remain in the saddle almost the whole night with icy cold feet was certainly not enjoyable. But it had to be done, and no one grumbled.
Our laager was by no means perfect, as may well be imagined. We consisted of small numbers from almost every district of the Orange Free State, and were not used to each other. Moreover, there were too many officers. There were generals without commandants, and commandants with hardly any men. Under these circumstances one can well understand that there existed but little cohesion amongst us, and that the burghers committed excesses of which they would not have been guilty had the laager consisted solely of burghers from one district. It thus happened that some wasted their ammunition by firing it away at game, and through carelessness the veld was set on fire almost daily. This continued until by stringent measures and heavy fines the delinquents were deterred. One instance of a sad veld fire occurred on the 11th of August. It began at a spot where a camp-fire had been lit, and might have resulted in the destruction of a large portion of the laager. It was quite calm when we rose that morning, but soon the wind began to blow. The storm raged more and more fiercely, and somebody said that if no order were given to put out all fires in the laager there was danger for the veld. This had hardly been said when someone shouted, "The veld is on fire!" Everything was now in commotion to leeward of the wind. Tents were pulled down, and the burghers hurriedly removed their saddles, bedding, and whatever they could, across the road to a place of safety. Some dragged the waggons by hand out of danger, and others ran about with sacks to extinguish the fire; but all did not assist in the attempt to extinguish the flames—only those who were in danger—the others looked on at the fire with colossal indifference, and went on roasting their meat or doing whatever they were busy with, as if there was no danger at the other end of the laager. But how great was the danger there! Each burgher redoubled his energies and did his utmost. All, however, would have been in vain, and a portion of the laager would inevitably have been destroyed if there had not fortunately been a narrow road between us and the fire. Besides, by a lucky chance there was the hide of an ox which had been slaughtered that morning. This was dragged across the fire, and wherever it was drawn it extinguished the flames; and in this way the laager was saved from destruction. But it was just as impossible to stop the conflagration as it is to stem the strong current of a river in flood. The flames sped onward, and soon all the veld to the east was black. Subsequently we heard of great damage done by this fire, and that lives had even been lost. What mischief had we not done by our unpardonable carelessness,—and we had always taken it so much amiss when the British troops had set fire to the veld!
The wind continued blowing all day, but died away in the evening. We then inspanned according to custom, and "trekked" onward to the banks of the spruit named Klip River, six miles east of Heilbron.
We now hoped to reach the laager of General de Wet shortly, as it had been in the vicinity of this town when Judge Hertzog had left it.
The following day, being Sunday, Mr. MacDonald and I held religious services in different parts of the laager.
We learnt in the course of the day that a considerable force of British was barring our way. This forced us to draw back some distance. We proceeded far into the night, and on Monday morning we were just as far south of Heilbron as we had been east the day before. It then began to seem doubtful if we should meet the President and General de Wet as speedily as we had hoped, not only because the English were in our front, but also because our scouts told us that we might expect a British force in our rear, coming with the road from Bethlehem towards Heilbron. Messages were, however, sent to General de Wet, and from him also tidings were received from time to time.
On the following day, Tuesday, 14th of August, it appeared that we should come in contact with the enemy. The force which was marching along the road from Bethlehem to Heilbron was coming nearer and nearer, and we came in collision with it not far from Vecht Kop of "voortrekker" fame, where Sarel Celliers had frustrated the Matabeles in 1837 in their attempt to take his laager.
The British trekked along between the ridges, where our men had taken up positions, and this kop. At twelve o'clock our guns opened fire on the enemy, which was fiercely responded to by the English cannon. Our burghers held the positions they occupied till late in the afternoon; but when the enemy's infantry advanced in strong force from the front, and the burghers, who held a position on a pointed hillock to the right, gave way, the men who fought in the centre were forced to retire. They did this under a hail of bullets, and it is a miracle that many were not killed. Only one was wounded there; but altogether we lost three dead and seven wounded on that day.
We were not elated over this result, but according to what we heard a month later, the loss of the English was greater than ours. It appeared that the enemy's purpose was to reach Heilbron, for we were not pursued, and after dark we proceeded in a south-westerly direction.
It now speedily became evident that we should not reach the President for some time. Word had come that he and General de Wet had taken refuge in the Transvaal, and that they were being pursued by an enormous force.
Our officers decided to act according to circumstances: to oppose the enemy wherever it was practicable, or to retire whenever we were forced to do so; but in all cases steadfastly to remain under arms. We had done our utmost to reach our President and Chief-Commandant, and had failed. But the short time of respite which had elapsed since the affair at Nauwpoort had exerted a beneficial influence on all, for we were now more and more convinced that, whether we reached the Chief of our State or not, surrender was not to be thought of as long as our Government existed.
Our trek to Heilbron had borne good fruit, not only in that it had freed us from the baneful influence which the surrender at Nauwpoort had caused, but we had also learned to know each other better. The heterogeneous elements of the laager became more and more homogeneous. It seemed quite natural that there should be one man in command. At his bidding we trekked, and at his command we halted. By degrees we became used to discipline, a clear proof of which was the fact that no one fired unnecessary shots, or set the veld on fire.
From Vecht Kop we trekked in a south-westerly direction. We pursued this course the whole week till we got near Ventersburg, keeping about eighteen miles away from the railway line. How endless these night marches in the depth of winter seemed. The waggons that brought up the rear seldom reached the camping-place before two or three o'clock in the morning. The least delay in front affected each vehicle in the rear. When a ford was reached a halt was called to see how things looked there, and then the whole trek behind was kept waiting, and in this manner from two to five minutes were always lost. The next waggon then reached the ford, and the same thing was done over again. Again the waggons behind had to wait, with a similar loss of time. When a waggon got stuck the delay was even longer. Then, in addition, a fearful commotion arose. There was dreadful shouting and yelling before the Kaffirs could convince the oxen that they had to get the waggon out by hook or by crook.
This slow progress was inexpressibly tedious, and we resorted to all sorts of contrivances to beguile the time. I sometimes would ride on ahead, and then with my horse's bridle over my arm would sit or lie down on the grass till the last waggon had passed, when I would again ride on and wait; or else I would walk leading my horse, in order to warm my feet. In this manner the time passed till, to my delight, I saw lights in the distance, which proved to me that a portion of the laager had already reached the halting-place. When at last I arrived there, a piece of meat was half-broiled on the coals and heartily relished. How it looked, and how much of the ashes adhered to it, could not be seen in the dark; but this made no difference, for the long trek in the cold winter night had sharpened our appetites.
During this week we crossed Rhenoster River, and one morning at two o'clock we arrived at Doornkloof. Later in the day I had the pleasure of visiting the farm of that stalwart "voortrekker," Sarel Cellier. Thirty years before I had as a boy met him there alive and well. It was a pleasure to me now to be able to pass a short time there with his widow. But it struck me painfully how troublesome the burghers were to the women on the farms. The house was constantly so full that there was no place for everyone to sit down. They were continually going and coming, and asking for this and that. "Has Tante (Aunt) any dried fruit for sale?" "Do bake for me; I will give you the flour." "Auntie can make bread or vetkoek (dampers) of it, just as you think fit." "Can't Auntie have my clothes washed?" When I heard this I said, "My dear man, do as I do—wash your own clothes." And yet how could I blame others for being troublesome when I had on one occasion got a loaf of bread from that house myself? I feel, however, that I need not plead guilty, for I very seldom went into the houses. Sometimes, as on this occasion, I went to see acquaintances. At other times the occupants of the house had heard that I was in the laager and invited me into the house. But as a rule I did not go to farms.
When we were at Doornkloof the question persistently presented itself to me: Where in the world are we going to? for we did nothing but wander from one place to another; so at least it seemed to me. I made a note in my diary to the following effect: "Not with levity nor irreverently do I call to mind the first words of the hymn—Whither, pilgrims, whither go ye?" We turn to the north and then to the south and—
"You are running away!"
Very well, we were running away, if you wish. What of that? Don't we keep the war going in this way? The English imagine they have conquered us. This is far from being the fact. They have occupied the towns, but they are not in possession of the country. They have annexed the Republic, but not the people. Their troops march out in overwhelming numbers wherever they wish, east and west, from one town to another, and we cannot prevent them, but we remain in the field nevertheless; we are still free. We turn to the right and to the left, and our adversary is not able with all his cannon to prevent it. In this way we keep the war going, and increase the expenditure day by day. In this way we worry our adversary; and thus we hope—the weak against the strong, like the widow and the unjust judge in the parable—to force the stronger to yield to our importunity. In the evening we trekked as usual; late at night we crossed the bridge over the Valsch River.
On the following day a sad duty fell to my lot. A Kaffir had for the rape of a white girl been condemned to death by the Council of War, and I was called upon to prepare him for death. During all my professional duties I had never had the spiritual charge of a man condemned to death. Although he deserved his sentence, in my opinion more even than if he had been guilty of murder, I could only regard him in this his last hour as a fellow-man. All sense of condemnation was effaced, only pity remained—pity for his total helplessness. Although he acknowledged that he deserved death, he asked me if I could do nothing to obtain his pardon; and when I told him there was no hope, he still kept urging me to try and move the officers to inflict some other punishment. As a mouse in the claws of a cat struggles in vain to get free and yet continues struggling, so he, hoping against hope, struggled against the inexorable.
Could he not be released? At length he resigned himself. I spoke to him of Jesus and prayed with him. After a short time he was led away to his grave, and standing in it he laid his hand on my shoulder and repeated the words of a prayer after me. I hurried away from the spot, but before I reached the laager a volley announced that all was over in this world with that human being.
The following day was Sunday. We were not far from Ventersburg. Shortly after divine service some burghers went out against a patrol of the enemy, cornered them in a kraal and took twenty-four of them prisoners. Amongst them were some officers and one person who claimed to be a doctor. As, however, he was found armed, he was held prisoner along with the rest. We had not yet commenced our evening trek, when I received from someone a note written by the Rev. R. H. Daneel, informing me that my wife had gone to Maritzburg to my parents.
This was a comfort to me, for I had always been uneasy about her. I subsequently found that the English had turned her out of the parsonage and put her over the border. On Monday evening after sunset we again proceeded. It was a miserably long trek. A delay occurred at a ford, and it was half-past three in the morning before we arrived at the outspan, which the foremost waggons had reached at twelve o'clock. Before we could lie down to rest it was already half-past four, and the morning star was shining on the eastern horizon. A trek or two more brought us to Doornberg, and Commandant Hasebroek went with a number of men to Ventersburg. He found the town empty,—that is to say, there were no troops there,—and he levied his usual tribute on the shopkeepers of coffee, sugar, meal, and other provisions.
When we had been at Doornberg for one day the Vrede Commando arrived and joined us. We now became a comparatively strong force, consisting of about 2000 men.
On the following day some men were sent from each of the commandos to assist Commandant Hasebroek, who had since the previous day been engaging about 150 of the English. These English had marched out of Winburg with two Maxims, and had taken up a position at the house of Mr. le Roux, not far from Doornberg towards the south-west.
Without being ordered, a large number of burghers left the laager on the following day to go and join the fight; and when I with several others arrived at the house of General Andries Cronje, I met numbers of them returning. They said there were already too many engaged against the English at le Roux's farm, and that they had been ordered to proceed to the Ventersburg road to oppose a possible reinforcement from that village, which had meanwhile been reoccupied by the enemy. As had been suspected, a number of the enemy had in reality advanced from that direction to help their friends, but they turned back when they saw our men, not, however, without burning down some houses on their way. From the east the burghers of Vrede also made their appearance, and pursued these troops; but when the enemy began to fire shrapnel at them, they ceased the pursuit and returned to the laager.
The English on the farm of le Roux had meanwhile been harassed by our men during the whole day both in a poplar-grove and around the farmhouse. We had two guns and a Maxim there, and with these they were bombarded continually. They were also within reach of our rifles. Our men approached the enemy in some cases to within three hundred yards, and so it came about that on our side four were killed and seven wounded. In the evening the matter was given up, and all our men retired to Laaispruit. Commandant Hasebroek had treated our burghers very kindly, and his house was not far from where the fight took place, and there his wife had provided many with food and a cup of coffee. Every burgher was full of praise for him.
The following day was Sunday, the 26th of August. Divine service was held at several places; and at nightfall 800 men marched out, with the object of taking Winburg, whilst the laager proceeded a little towards the south.
Commandant Hasebroek sent one of his sons to guide the burghers, whilst he marched on the town from another direction. Unfortunately these men delayed too long at a place where they went to sleep for a while. They arrived at their destination when it was already broad daylight. This was the reason that the whole thing turned out a miserable failure. On this account also the guns could not be properly posted. As was to be foreseen, our men were expected by the English, who were in good positions; and it frequently happened that our men were nearly surrounded, and had to retire. Here General Olivier was captured. He rode into a party of the enemy, and so little was he aware how matters stood that he took them for our people.
"Hands up!" they cried.
He laughed, thinking it a joke on the part of his own men. But it was no joke, and Commandant Olivier had to lay down his arms. Commandant van Tender was with him, and was already disarmed, when he set spurs to his horse and raced away. A bullet cut through his sleeve, but he escaped to tell of the sad occurrence. The burghers returned in confusion to the laager, followed by small numbers of the enemy. The whole affair was a fiasco, and Winburg was not taken.
The enemy could do no more than drive our men back to the laager; but they avenged themselves for what had taken place at le Roux's farm, by burning down Commandant Hasebroek's house.
When we started in the afternoon clouds were rising in the west, and the thunder rolled. No rain, however, fell, but it was a sign that the worst of the cold weather was past and that spring had come. The sky remained clouded, and two days later, when we approached the little Vet River, it rained hard and continuously. The ground was soaked, and two months later, when we came along there as a mounted commando, we could still see the tracks our waggons now made in the mud.
During this week some waggons loaded with meal, coffee, sugar, sweets, and brandy were captured by our men. On the banks of the little Vet River the different articles were distributed to the men. Some Commandants acted, with regard to the brandy, in a sensible manner; others, not. In one instance the men drank immoderately, dipping pannikins into buckets which had been filled with brandy. General Fourie came upon one sad spectacle of drunkenness, and there and then poured all the liquor on the ground.
On Friday evening we had advanced as far as Allandale. Here it was resolved to rest a while, and a committee of officers went on ahead to select a suitable place at the foot of Korannaberg where the several commandos might encamp. On Saturday morning each commando went to the spot assigned it. How pleasant it was to trek onward after the rain. The showers had already had effect upon the veld, and the tender blades of grass were making their appearance. Everywhere one saw signs that Nature had once more awakened from her winter sleep, and it was delightful to gaze on the fresh green, on the branches of the willows and the soft pink of the peach blossoms. And irresistibly our hearts too were filled with a strong desire that thus too, after the winter of our discontent, the national life of our poor people might once more revive.
We were all encamped somewhat to the west of Korannaberg, and rejoiced at the thought that we, for a time at least, would no longer have to undertake endless night marches. But these pleasant thoughts could not be indulged in by all. Already some burghers out of every commando had been ordered to proceed that very evening with General Fourie to Ladybrand, for the purpose of taking that town.
Early on the 2nd September, after having ridden the whole night, the burghers attacked Ladybrand. The troops lying in garrison there immediately retreated to Lelyhoek, a beautifully cultivated rocky kloof near to the town. Without delay a heavy bombardment was opened upon the English, and kept up through the whole of the day with the two guns which General Fourie had taken with him. At nine o'clock General Visser was already inside the town—being the first of our officers who entered it, and at eleven o'clock some of our men captured horses and cattle and stormed the enemy to within six hundred yards. Somewhat later on twelve men advanced to within a few yards of the positions of the English; but had to retire not only on account of the enemy's severe fire, but also because some Krupp shells were being fired at them by our own gunners, who mistook them for English. During the day positions on all sides were taken up nearer to the enemy, behind the rocks above Lelyhoek, and behind the stone walls of the gardens in the town. A continual fire was kept up on both sides. The English also kept firing without intermission into the town, and some of us were hit there. Amongst others, one burgher was killed in the street near to the church. At nightfall the enemy had been driven out of Lelyhoek, and had sought shelter amongst the rocks a little higher up.
The same kind of fighting was kept up on Monday and Tuesday. A perpetual sound of rifle firing filled the air, overpowered every now and then by the roar of a Krupp shell that would make the rocks re-echo somewhere in Lelyhoek.
I arrived on the scene on the evening of the third day, and then I learnt that everything had to be abandoned, and that our people were preparing to retire at eight o'clock; the enemy might be forced to surrender within two or three days, but this could not occur before the arrival of a reinforcement which was advancing from Newberry's Mill. It was also feared that assistance might come from Ficksburg. I had therefore only an hour and a half at my disposal to visit my brother-in-law and his family. I walked quickly to the parsonage, got some information there regarding my wife, and then left the town along with the burghers.
Although the English garrison was not forced to surrender, our men had taken the town, and held it for three days. Our wants also had been provided for. As much clothing and food had been taken out of the town as could be carried away, and although General Fourie could not return completely victorious, he had no reason to be dissatisfied with the result of his expedition. We had, during the three days, to lament the loss of four killed and five wounded. What the English loss was we could not learn.
Well satisfied, we returned to the laager; but yet there was one thing that displeased me: it was that goods belonging to private persons had been taken. Of course, I do not refer to what was taken by the Government as the lawful prize of war; but to the spiders and horses belonging to individuals taken in the town. My feeling on this matter was so strong that I considered it my duty two days later, when a Council of War was held, to request the officers to see to it that their own resolutions and orders concerning this should be carried out.
We had heard from General de Wet. This was the reason for the meeting of officers two days after the taking of Ladybrand. General de Wet had ordered that the Harrismith Commando should proceed between Kroonstad and Rhenoster River, and should be employed along the railway line in interrupting the communications of the enemy, whilst the burghers of Vrede were to go to him—but without encumbering themselves with their waggons, and that the other commandos were to proceed farther west, everywhere taking the towns and appointing magistrates.
On Saturday, the 8th of September, we separated. From Commandant Hasebroek we parted at Korannaberg, whilst General Fourie hastened forward with 100 men to interview General de Wet personally. The order of General de Wet was not carried out by the men of Vrede and Harrismith. They considered that they could not do away with their waggons; but nevertheless resolved to proceed to the Chief-Commandant, and then, when they should arrive where he was, to act according to circumstances.
It was one of the most monotonous journeys imaginable. We were under the command of General Hattingh as Acting Chief-Commandant, and from the 8th to the 18th of September we did nothing but trek some distance every evening. We never travelled so late into the night as when we were going to Korannaberg, and, excepting that nothing occurred to afford an agreeable variety, the life was not an unpleasant one. One can understand that every excuse was seized for the enjoyment of some diversity, and so it happened that a most decided breach of discipline took place of firing shots contrary to the established rule of the commandos. The temptation came in the shape of "wilde beests" (gnus). One afternoon we reached a part of the country where that kind of game still existed in considerable numbers, and the temptation was more than some could resist. Wilde beests! those were animals about which our fathers had so often told us, and which the majority of us had never seen! Regardless, therefore, of the safety of the commando on the march some of the burghers fired at the game. The reports of the rifles frightened the horses, which had by now become frisky after the rest at Korannaberg, and the young grass they had eaten. Some of them broke loose, and bolted across the broad level plains, whither the owners pursued them like madmen. How angry they were with the delinquents! But it probably gave them some satisfaction when the officers, some days after, punished this transgression with a fine.
Proceeding on our way, we first heard that the enemy had hemmed in Commandant Hasebroek at Doornberg, and afterwards that he had escaped with the loss of nearly all his waggons and his field-guns. We heard later on that the enemy had been in strong force under General Hector MacDonald, and that Commandant Hasebroek escaped with all his men, but that General MacDonald had captured sixteen of his waggons at Vet River on the 13th, and eighteen at Doornberg on the 17th of September. The cannon, however, did not fall into the hands of the enemy. Commandant Hasebroek concealed them in a dam so as not to have the trouble of dragging about with him guns for which he had no ammunition. On Sunday, the 16th of September, we were not far south-west of Senekal. From there we trekked nearer to the town and then northwards; we crossed through Sand River and camped at Bretsberg. On the previous day several of the burghers had gone to the town, and many others intended doing so next day, in order to purchase what they required. But before they could do so, we heard that the English had entered the town from the direction of Zuringkrans, so suddenly that no one was aware of their approach. The men who were there escaped at the opposite end of the town just in the nick of time, and reported to us what had occurred. The laager had now to inspan hurriedly and trek, while a number of burghers hastened away in the direction of the town to oppose the English should they advance. The British fired from the forts at Senekal, and their shells burst on a ridge along which the laager was trekking out of town.
Great was the indignation at the want of vigilance displayed by the scouting corps in allowing the enemy to approach and take Senekal without being noticed; but after the captain had given an explanation, the council of war was satisfied and acquitted the corps of all blame. The enemy did no more than hurl shells at us, and we went our way unharmed.
On the 18th of September we had advanced to Modderfontein, where we were just twenty-four miles from Senekal, Ventersburg, Kroonstad, and Lindley respectively. An unpleasant surprise awaited us here. Early the following morning we heard rifle firing and the dud—dud—dud of a Maxim-Nordenfeldt, both directed against the scouting corps. The laager again trekked in great haste, while the burghers went to meet the enemy. Unfortunately the issue was not favourable as far as our losses were concerned, for two of our men were killed and three were wounded. The advance of the enemy was, however, stopped, and several of them were killed, wounded, and captured.
We now proceeded on our way in peace—unmolested by the English. We again crossed Valsch River, but this time somewhat farther up the stream. Leaving Lindley to the east, we passed through Rhenoster River by the same ford through which we had passed a little more than a month before when going south. The nearer we approached to where we hoped to meet General de Wet somewhere in the Heilbron district, the more fervently we longed to see him. Everybody thought that the Chief-Commandant would put everything right, and the days that intervened before we should see him seemed to pass all too slowly. At last (22nd September, Saturday) Vecht Kop came into view. In passing we gazed at it with varied emotions, for we seemed to see the laager of Sarel Celliers there, surrounded by Moselekatze's hordes. We seemed to hear their battle-cry and their fierce assault; we witnessed their repulse and the deliverance of the little laager. Then Vecht Kop disappeared behind us, and other thoughts swayed us as we rode over the positions where the fight of August 14 had taken place.
In the evening we outspanned on the farm of Petrus Schoeman and halted for the night, expecting to hear from General de Wet every moment. The following day was passed as usual, and at three o'clock the General rode into the laager. At five o'clock the burghers assembled to be addressed by the man whom all had longed so much to see since the unfortunate affairs at Nauwpoort. The officers presented him with an address, with which, however, he was not particularly pleased, saying that he was not very partial to addresses.
He then spoke to the burghers in his pleasant, clear, and pithy manner. He said that it was his firm conviction that God would help us, and would not allow us to disappear as a nation. But this belief should not make us careless; on the contrary, this conviction should be a spur to every man to do his share of the work. Every man should do his duty, which consisted in this, that each one should be prepared to sacrifice his all on the altar of Liberty: money, goods, comfort, life! As we were weak and our adversaries strong, the best way of fulfilling our duty would be to keep harassing them. This we should do by making provisions at Pretoria and Johannesburg dear, through continually interrupting their communications. Further, the waggons should be done away with—done away with immediately, and the burghers were to form separate mounted commandos. He then related to us some of his experiences when he was pursued by large British columns from Slabbert's Nek up to the bush veld, and how matters stood in the Transvaal, and what had taken place at the battle of Machadodorp. This address was listened to with rapt attention, but it soon became apparent that most of the men had not heard what they had wanted to hear.
On the following day a Council of War was held, General de Wet presiding, and his proposition concerning the abolition of the waggons, and of commandos acting independently, was accepted. In the afternoon the Commandants called their men together and made known to them what had been decided upon, at the same time commanding the burghers to free themselves from the encumbrance of their waggons immediately; and as to the Harrismith men—we, together with the Kroonstad burghers, were told to employ ourselves by breaking up the railroad and to interrupt the trains between Rhenoster and Sand River, our commanding officer was to be General Philip R. Botha.
One could immediately perceive by the grumbling in the laager with what dissatisfaction the commands of General de Wet had been received. It could not be done, many declared, and the burghers of one ward of a commando went the length of riding away immediately—not to lay down arms to the enemy, oh no, but to procure fresh horses in their own district, and to continue the war there. They had imagined De Wet to be quite a different sort of man, and that he would save the cause in quite another manner. They had thought that, like a deus ex machina, he would put all things right in a wonderful—a magical way. Instead of this we had in him a man whose motto appeared to be not "all will come right," but "all must be made right." Instead of lulling us to sleep to the tune of "Peace, Peace, live as comfortably as you can!" we had in him a leader who demanded much work and great sacrifices from us. We had not heard a lullaby, but a reveille sounding in our ears. And this was something so strange, after having fought for a year with no discipline to speak of, that at first many could not bear it. There were therefore those who were dissatisfied, and who said that these commands were impracticable, and a few even went the length of riding away from the laager, as I have already noted. The reason of all this is, that our poor Africander people could never, since the days of Piet Retief, recognise or follow a hero when he arose amongst us. But Christian de Wet was a strong man, and what he willed came to pass. On the following day most of the burghers packed their things, and prepared themselves to exist in the future as mounted commandos; while a small number, with weak and thin horses, separated from the others and formed a laager—which was immediately dubbed by the inventive faculty of the Africander mind, Ma'er Lager (Lean Laager). My son and I put what we thought most necessary into a corn-bag and wallets, tied our blankets in front of our saddles, and were ready to go with the mounted commando. The waggons disappeared over a rise with a rumbling noise, and we rode away in an opposite direction, the blue expanse overhead our only covering. I must admit that I was not in a very optimistic mood.
It was on Tuesday, 25th of September, that we commenced our work as a mounted force. We rode on until we reached the farm where we had listened to the address of General de Wet. The enemy almost immediately drew our attention. On the other side of the hillock, of which I spoke in connection with the fight on the 14th of August, and on this side of Vecht Kop, a small English force were marching along the main road to Heilbron.
We occupied positions on this little hill and on the ridges to the south-west of it, whence we could see the English. After a while they halted in a hollow, and our cannon opened fire on them. Some confusion ensued, and several minutes elapsed before the English guns were brought into action and began firing on our Krupps. The odds were then too heavy, and our gunners were unable to continue the fight. They were obliged to remove the Krupp out of danger, and before nightfall all the positions were deserted. We halted for the night without off-saddling our horses, on the slopes of a ridge not far from Heilbron, and went early next morning where we expected the English to come along.
We reached a ridge, behind which the English were, but no one seemed inclined to take possession of it, as none knew what it looked like on the other side. General Philip Botha was not with us yet, and the officers who were with us did not lead the men up. They remained below merely urging them on. "Charge, you young fellows!" they cried; but as example is better than precept, they spoke in vain. Only about twenty-five men obeyed.
When these brave fellows gained the top, they opened fire on some British cavalry who had nearly reached the crest of the ridge, and forced them to retreat. They also forced the gunners of an Armstrong to abandon it. But at a distance of eight hundred yards there was another gun, and somewhat farther a Maxim-Nordenfeldt. There was a slight pause. Then the English began from there to bombard our men, and the shells fell not only on the ridge but also on the commando at the back. The brave twenty-five had to retire from the ridge, and the commando was scattered, retreating in confusion past the south of Heilbron, with shrapnel bursting right and left of them. A small number of burghers still made an effort to hold a kopje, but they were driven from it by the shells of the Maxim-Nordenfeldt. Wherever a horseman or a burgher was seen there the shells burst, and so the English paved their way to Heilbron, which they entered before noon. We came to a standstill at Klip River to the east of Heilbron. But not all the burghers stopped there, for so discouraged were a few that they rode away to their farms. General de Wet, who arrived on the scene after the fight, was very indignant about this, and immediately sent some burghers to compel them to return.
And here sat our party—there were five of us, General C. J. de Villiers, his son Christian, Andries Pretorius, my son, and I. Our party, I say, sat by a brook that was honoured by the name of river, and thought of our troubles. We thought also of the demands of Nature, and began to prepare some food. Whatever we might have to eat would be relished, for now for the first time since we had left the waggons were we able to boil some water. But let me here give a description of our manner of life. It can be easily understood that we could not carry much with us on horseback. We had, besides our blankets and some clothes, a kettle and an iron linseed-oil drum, with a handle made of wire. This drum had to do duty as cooking-pot. Besides this we also carried a saucepan. We had only three pannikins between us five, and two had to wait until two had finished. There were also a couple of little bags in which we carried our rations of meat, meal, salt, and coffee. In the drum the meat, and also the mealie-meal porridge, was cooked. The latter we ate together out of the pot, scooping it up with our clasp-knives, in the way the Kaffirs do with their wooden spoons. We afterwards saw that spoons answered better, and so made our own wooden ones. The meat we had to take up with our hands instead of with a fork, and we ate it from the lid of the saucepan or from a slice of bread.
At nights there was nothing but the canopy of heaven over us. Mostly the stars with their friendly light shone brightly on us from on high. Sometimes large masses of clouds floated between them and us, and hid their kindly light. Now and then all was swallowed up in utter darkness, while the thunder roared, and we were drenched to the skin. Whatever the weather might be we spread a skin or a blanket on the grass, with our saddles at our heads to ward off the wind, and slept sound till next morning. General de Villiers had a tanned ox hide with which, in accordance with the custom which had been followed by his father, he had provided himself, and I slept beside him on it. I was in good company. The kindness of General de Villiers and his party I shall never forget.
So things went on from day to day and from month to month; and how swiftly those days and months passed! However monotonous it seemed to exist from one moment to another, and however far off the future seemed, yet the time sped like the flight of an arrow, and the past was swallowed up in the present before we seemed to have time to realise it.
We halted for the night at the farm of Janneke. Next morning I went to sit under the trees to note down my experiences. It was a lovely day. Spring had like a mysterious incomprehensible force wholly changed the face of Nature. The brown grass had been changed to green; the trees were covered with young and tender leaves; the birds chirped in the branches, and the bees hummed around in the blossoms. How restful everything was there! How different from the previous day, when the cannon filled the air with dissonant shrieks, and the shells burst all about us. I could not realise that a terrible war was raging in our land. Everything was so still, so full of rest. Yet it was War, not Peace. Alas! what brought me, a man of peace in every sense of the word, on the field of battle?
On Saturday General Philip Botha joined us. He immediately took the command; but during the first days following, General de Wet had the direction of everything, until we were led by him across the railway, not far from Wolvehoek Station.
We had to travel fast to accomplish this, for news had come that the English were present in large numbers at Elandskop and other places. On Saturday night we rode till twelve o'clock. The following day we assembled for our usual divine service, and when it got dark we again proceeded. We travelled during the whole night. This was slow work on account of the cannon, the ammunition waggons, and a couple of trolleys carrying provisions. How sleepy I became now that we had to keep awake for two nights in succession. It seemed to me sometimes, as I sat on horseback, as if the broad brim of my hat were the roof of a big tent, of which, as sometimes happens when the weather is warm, the sides had been lifted, and that the burghers in front of me were moving on under its roof with a rhythmic motion. I had every now and then to look up to the stars in order to shake off the illusion. We had to wait now and then for those who lagged behind, and then we would throw ourselves on the ground and immediately fall asleep. How fortunate those people must be who have such strong constitutions that they can endure everything without sleep, and apparently never suffer from fatigue. There were such amongst us now. They were ever on the alert and woke up the slumbering ones when it was time to proceed again. Things went thus till daylight broke, when we crossed first the branch line from Wolvehoek to Heilbron, and then the main line. Some of our scouts paid a visit to an English guard and disarmed them.
We had thus fortunately got across the line with all our belongings—all except one or two waggons; among these an ammunition waggon remained behind. When the drivers came near the railway an armoured train had made its appearance, and so they had to turn back. Out of this train fire was opened on those who had already crossed, but no casualty occurred. But I had lost all my clothes. To spare my horses I had placed my little all on the ammunition waggon which remained behind, and now I had nothing more than what I had on and what was in my saddle-bag.
After we had been off-saddled for a while, General de Wet proceeded to Vredefort with his bodyguard. He invited me to accompany him, and I had the pleasure of being in his company for three hours. I asked myself, as I rode by his side, what could be the secret of his power? and it appeared to me that it lay in this—that while he was friendly to all, he was intimate with none. Moreover, as is the case with all great leaders of men, he was as reticent as the Sphinx.
In the afternoon we reached Vredefort. How pleasant it was to me to find myself once more in the house of a brother minister, between the four walls of his study, and to forget for a while the blue canopy of the skies above and the hills and dales below.
Yes, I did enjoy it! To spend twenty-four hours in a house, for since the 2nd of August I had never slept under a roof. What luxury!—a soft bed and a bath in the morning. But how numerous are the demands of civilisation! I had of course to breakfast with the family, and there the table was laid with snowy linen and neatly folded serviettes.
Ah me! How did I behave after having had to manage with my clasp-knife on the grass for so long? Still, it charmed me. The old instinct again awoke. A fork was better after all than one's fingers, and sitting on a chair in the study than on an anthill in the veld. The transformation took place with lightning rapidity. I was myself again. This was my world. Out yonder I was a stranger, but here I was at home; and it was like being rent from a part of myself when at three o'clock I once more joined the commando.
We proceeded between the kopjes that surround Vredefort on the north-west. There beautiful scenery and the scent of the thorn-tree blossoms repaid me in some measure for the comforts I had to relinquish beneath the roof of the Rev. J. A. Joubert. But when at evening the hills and thorn-trees lay behind us on the horizon, and we had to lie down to rest by a dam on particularly large tufts of grass, I could well realise that something indeed had been sacrificed for the great cause of liberty and independence.
Here on the following morning General de Wet called the burghers together and read to them a notice which he had issued for the information of the enemy. This notice was to the effect that where troops were caught in the act of burning houses, and carrying off defenceless women and children, those troops would be shot.
He then asked me to address the men, as it was that day just a year since they had been commandeered. I complied, and took as my text the words: "If I forget thee, O Jerusalem, let my right hand forget her cunning"; and presented the Israelite in his fervent patriotism as an example to them.
General de Wet immediately after left us with the commandos of Heilbron and Vrede, and we trekked away under General Botha in the direction of the Rhenoster River. Before nightfall we reached it, and found there a part of the Bethlehem Commando that had just returned from the bush veld, whither they had accompanied General de Wet. These burghers joined us, and we trekked along together, until, shortly after, they left us and proceeded to their own district. How delightful it was there in the densely wooded banks of the Rhenoster River. Great wild willows and old thorn-trees grew along the placid stream, and lent an inexpressible air of peace and rest to the place.
We stayed here for the night, lit great fires of the dry wood, and broiled meat as it can only be done on the live coals of thorn-tree wood. On the following day we departed from this beautiful spot, and soon the wide sand plains stretched around us, dreary in their monotony.
It is a wearisome thing travelling on these wilds. You see nothing but long, low, rolling undulations. In the distance there arises one like an immovable wave in an immovable sea. After an hour's ride—for a commando does not move rapidly—you have reached it, and then in the distance there is another exactly like the one behind you.
And yet, however much the wearied spirit seeks some change, and however dreary these wastes seem, they speak to the heart of him who understands their language. Abandoning oneself to their mysterious influence, one forgets that they are monotonous, as they whisper, softly as the evening breeze which wafts across their broad bosoms, of the Infinite. The mountains fill one with awe and veneration—even so the region where the horizon seems ever to be beyond one's reach.
On Friday, 5th of October, we were on the banks of the Valsch River and camped there. Some days after we trekked to the farm of Mr. B. Greyling. From there the commando went to the shop of Mr. Harvey at Otterspruit, but as it looked like rain, I accepted the kind invitation of Mr. Greyling, and remained under his roof for the night. We stopped at Harvey's shop on Sunday and Monday, and a few burghers were punished there because they had entered the shop and helped themselves to what they thought they wanted. We had a man in command who allowed no irregularities, and the discipline in the commando was perfect. Here I washed my clothes myself, as I had to do often later on. As I had no change, I had to remain at the spruit until what I had washed had got dry. I thought of the future with misgivings. "What should we eat, and what should we drink?" did not trouble me; but "wherewithal should we be clothed?" that filled me with uneasiness. We had, as we were marching along, heard occasionally that everywhere in the State the civil administration of the English had ceased. The patrols of two or three mounted police did not visit the farms any more. Nor were any taxes collected any more from the Boers on their farms or the Kaffirs in their kraals. Since the time about the taking of Ladybrand, it had begun to be impossible for small numbers of the English to go from farm to farm, and to carry out the kind of government which obtains when there is peace in a country. If they wanted now to go from district to district they could not do so otherwise than in numbers of about 1000 men, and always with cannon. This was a new proof to us that it was impossible for England to fight us on an equal footing. We were far from being conquered.
It soon became evident that we were going to come in contact with the enemy, for, not far from us upon a hillock to the south-east of Kopje Alleen, a force moved now and again out from Kroonstad. This little hill lay on our road to the railway, and it was desirable that we should not be prevented there from carrying out the object we had in view. General Botha therefore advanced in that direction on Monday evening. On the following day it was discovered that there were no English on the hill, and a patrol was left there.
In the evening the commando went to the farm of old Mr. Delport, where we remained five days, for it was General Botha's intention to begin his real work of interrupting the communications here. On the following night, therefore, he proceeded to the railway, and broke it up not far from Ventersburg Road Station.
I was glad to be able to remain here some days, because, as my son was ill, he could thus remain under the care of Mrs. Delport and her daughter. When we left he was well again. I owe much gratitude to this kind family.
On Sunday, the 14th October, a fight took place. I had held services first for the Harrismith, and then for the Kroonstad men, and had just returned from the latter when a report arrived from the patrol on the hill that a number of English had driven them away and taken possession of the kopje. General Botha immediately advanced against them, whilst a small number of burghers went with the trolleys we had to the farm of Mr. Taljaart. General Botha attacked from two sides, and after a short fight drove the English from the kopje to the camp at Ventersburg Road Station.
The loss of the English was estimated at four dead and thirteen wounded, and two were taken prisoners. We had no casualties. The following day we went to the beautiful farm of Mr. Hendrik Delport. He had created an oasis in the dreary sand flats. It was refreshing to see the green willows growing here on the wall of the dam, and to walk beneath the healthy fruit trees of the garden. We camped beside the dam wall, and enjoyed the pleasure of being protected by the shade of the willow-trees from the burning rays of the sun.
That night, whilst we were wrapped in peaceful slumbers under the trees, we were awakened by the wild sound of horses' hoofs. My first idea was that it was the enemy making a night attack upon us. I expected every moment to hear the report of rifle shots, and visions of imprisonment arose in my mind. There was a Commandant ill in a waggon which Mr. Delport had hidden between the trees. He put out his head through the waggon-flap and asked his sons—