Majestic krantzes were round us bristling in great tree ferns, huge aloes, and African Euphoboebia, the latter’s bright scarlet blossoms contrasting sharply with the dark green foliage, nursing the base of isolated lofty hills, whose sunless pillars were hidden in earth’s depths, unknown to human search.”

This picturesque range runs across North Natal south-east towards the junction of the Tugela (the “Angry” River of the Kaffirs) and the Mooi River, and some of the peaks tower above the land of Natal 5000 to over 7000 feet; and from these, on a clear day, may be traced the whole crimson history of Buller’s relief of Ladysmith. In the present onward march great precautions had to be taken, as this—a comparatively short cut to save a round of some thirty miles—was teeming with the enemy, whose flank on the Biggarsberg it was the chief’s design to turn. The march was resumed the whole day under menace of the enemy, who hovered, vulture-like, in the distant heights, and towards afternoon came into the plains, attacking and wounding some of the British patrols. They also succeeded in taking prisoners three of the South African Light Horse, Australians lately joined, who, mistaking the enemy in their kharki disguise for friends, walked unsuspectingly into their arms. By nightfall the troops were encamped at Vermaak’s Farm, with the Boers and their guns not very far distant.

Sunday’s proceedings were opened in the haze of the morning with a shell from the hostile band, and after a time the naval guns woke up, spat forth some four times, and reduced the Dutchmen to silence. The Mounted Brigades, with a battery of Royal Horse Artillery, had moved on beforehand, and by the time the passage at arms between the big guns was in full swing, they and the transport were safely in a place of shelter. The Mounted Infantry and the 2nd Brigade, under General Hamilton, then engaged in the herculean task of getting up the rugged steeps of the Biggarsberg, and there, securing a nek which was the key to the summit, prevented the enemy from attempting to waylay the advancing army. On the ridges taken by General Hamilton were formidable trenches prepared for defence, which could now serve the foe no longer.

While this flanking process was taking place, Colonel Bethune, with his composite force of Mounted Infantry, was co-operating in the direction of Helpmakaar, thus threatening the Boers’ left flank, and rendering their position at Helpmakaar distinctly uncomfortable. The guns on both sides worked furiously—those of the Boers with poor success; and at dusk, when the troops bivouacked, there was reason to hope that by morning the region of Helpmakaar would be purged of the enemy. And so it proved.

With the dawn of day it was discovered that the Dutchmen were in full retreat towards Dundee, pursued by the cavalry. But the enemy were covered in their retreat by some 1500 Boers, whose tactics were excellent. Each section as it fell back set fire to the grass, thus drawing a veil of smoke between them and Dundonald’s men, and intercepting the rush of the pursuers, who more than once were almost within a lance-length of them. They succeeded in getting clear away, in spite of the magnificent dash of the pursuit, which covered some forty miles. Then, having secured some kops, they made sufficient stand to check our advance through the rippling sea of flame made by the veldt fires, while their main body vanished, leaving open the road to Dundee.

The Boers, finding themselves outflanked, decided to make no stand, either at Dundee or Glencoe, and both these places, of now historical interest, were occupied in the course of the 15th, and the 16th was spent in resting after the fatigues of the preceding days. Dundee was a sad and deserted-looking place. Though the coal-mines were untouched, its houses were denuded of furniture, and bore evidences of Boer occupation and Boer mischief. Wall papers hung in shreds, doors were unhinged and broken, windows were merely gaps, and the word dilapidation was marked everywhere. The inhabitants, such few as remained, gave the troops a cordial welcome.

On Thursday the 17th the force was again up and doing, the earliest birds being the Mounted Infantry. They journeyed along towards Dannhauser Station, midway between Dundee and Newcastle. On the afternoon of the 18th the troops swarmed into the pleasing green-girt town of Newcastle, after a long and fatiguing march along a fire-blackened plain, devilishly prepared by the departing Boers for the purpose of showing up the advance of the kharki-clad legions. Joy and welcome was writ on every face, and hearty cheers greeted the arrival of the army. Sir Redvers Buller was presented with a banner which had been secretly worked by the ladies of the locality in anticipation of his coming. The town they found had been rechristened Viljoensdorp by the Boers, whose labours there had also been anticipatory. They had destroyed the large water-tanks for supplying the engines at Glencoe, Dannhauser, and Newcastle, but the inconveniences were merely temporary, and repairs were actively set on foot. Report came in that the Dutchmen were full of activity, swarming in the direction of the famous Laing’s Nek and Majuba Hill, therefore on the afternoon of Saturday the 19th, Lord Dundonald, with naval guns, went ahead to unearth them. They, however, remained buried wherever they were, and the desperately-fatigued men and horses of the Mounted Brigades returned towards Ingogo Station, while some of the troops encamped on the battlefield. But their fatigues or its grievous memories scarcely damped their spirits, for they were on the confines of the Transvaal, and Pretoria, the land of promise, seemed near at hand.

Sir Redvers Buller forthwith issued the following proclamation:—

“The troops of Queen Victoria are now passing through the Transvaal. Her Majesty does not make war on individuals, but is, on the contrary, anxious to spare them, as far as may be possible, the horrors of war. The quarrel England has is with the Government and not with the people of the Transvaal. Provided they remain neutral no attempt will be made to interfere with persons living near the line of march, every possible protection will be given them, and any of their property that it may be necessary to take will be paid for. But, on the other hand, those who are thus allowed to remain near the line of march must respect and maintain their neutrality, and residents of any locality will be held responsible both in persons and property if any damage is done to the railway or telegraph, or if any violence is done to any member of the British forces in the vicinity of their homes.”

On this, many Natal Dutch gave themselves up and others were captured, but it was again observed that those farmers who tendered their submission tendered with it, not Mausers, but other weapons of more ancient pattern.

Affairs at this time were going on most satisfactorily, the troops, after a 120-mile march, accomplished in nine days, including a day’s halt and two days’ fighting, had almost cleared Natal of the invaders, and were in possession of the country from Van Reenan’s Pass to the Buffalo River. A message of congratulation on their efforts was received from the Queen, and the General expressed his satisfaction at the successful work accomplished. One unfortunate affair damped the spirits of the advancing army.

On the 17th, Colonel Bethune was detached, with about 500 men, from Dundee. His column consisted of five squadrons of mounted infantry, two Hotchkiss and two Maxim guns. His instructions were to show his force in N’qutu, in the centre of British Zululand (to which a magistrate and civil establishment were about to return), and afterwards to rejoin Sir Redvers Buller at Newcastle. The orders were executed, and Colonel Bethune moved towards Newcastle on the 20th May, via Vryheid, due north of the road which leads to Utrecht. About six miles north-west of Vryheid, the Boers were ambushed in the thick shrub that abounds in the neighbourhood, with the result that E squadron of Mounted Infantry, which had pushed ahead to reach Vryheid before dark set in, suffered severe loss. Few escaped to tell the tale, the outline of which was as follows: The Boers no sooner saw the troopers approaching than they jumped from their hiding-place and surrounded them. Captain Goff (6th Dragoon Guards), who was commanding the squadron, dismounted his men and made a valiant stand, but the Boers poured a volley on them, incapacitating most of the horses and many of the men. The commanding officer was shot dead. Still the party continued to reply to the fire of the enemy till, ammunition running short, they knew resistance would soon be unavailing. Meanwhile, the scene of confusion was horrible. The Boers had set the crisp, dry grass into a blaze, and behind the smoke of it were able to fire with impunity at the helpless British force. The rest of the column had hastened towards the scene of the disaster, but what with the crackling glare of the flamboyant grass, the suffocating clouds of smoke, and the deceptive darkness of the gloaming, Colonel Bethune dared not open fire at close quarters lest he should injure his own already wounded force. Gallantly the men of D squadron dashed into the mêlée, and rescued from thence such troopers as survived. Lieutenant Capell, who gave his horse to an injured trooper, was taken prisoner, and Lord De la Warr, while going to the relief of another, was slightly injured in the leg.

He afterwards gave to a correspondent of the Central News an interesting narrative of his experiences on that eventful day. He was acting as aide-de-camp to Colonel Bethune, and was directed to take messages to the captains of E and D squadrons, in the thickest of the fight. His instructions were to order them to retire, but when he came upon the scene he found that E squadron was already practically surrounded. He was able, however, to deliver his order to Captain Ford of D squadron, and then set out to return to Colonel Bethune through a heavy fire. In galloping back he saw Trooper Cooper, of Durban, lying wounded in the grass, which was then blazing. The flames were gradually making their way towards the wounded man, who was unable to move. A horrible death in a few minutes was certain, unless succour could be rendered him. Earl De la Warr instantly dismounted, crept up through the smoke, and was in the act of rescuing the man when he was pounced upon by about twenty Boers, who fired at him at close range. He was wounded, though not severely, and just managed to drag himself away from the burning grass. His horse had bolted, and he was only rescued when he had practically given up all hope.

The following casualties among officers occurred: Killed—3rd Dragoon Guards, Captain W. E. D. Goff; Bethune’s Mounted Infantry, Lieutenant H. W. Lanham and Lieutenant W. McLachlan. Wounded—Bethune’s Mounted Infantry, Captain Earl De la Warr and Lieutenant De Lasalle. Missing—Bethune’s Mounted Infantry, Lieutenant A. E. Capell.

The whole of the wounded were taken by the enemy, and Colonel Bethune had no resource but to retire on N’qutu.

The Boers were falling back from Natal, and the British at this date were in possession of Christiana, Kroonstad, Lindley, and Newcastle. Thus, it will be seen, we were sweeping up, like an incoming tide, from all quarters. Sir Redvers Buller now halted to concentrate his army, collect supplies, and repair the rail, in order that his next move should be both rapid and effective. That being the case, his programme for the celebration of the Queen’s Birthday took an unique form. The General decided that the men should spend “a record day” in repairing the rail. This they did with a will, as, indeed, they did all things at the behest of their much-respected chief. Repairs on all sides were prosecuted with ardour, the railway engineering staff working away at bridging operations on the Ingagane River at Waschbank, till, by the 28th, the line was clear to Newcastle. To clear the right flank Generals Hildyard and Lyttelton had been directed to Utrecht and Vryheid respectively, and the month closed with the entry into Utrecht, the first Transvaal town to be taken by the Natal Field Force. In the skirmishing which occurred, Captain St. John and Lieutenant Pearse had their horses shot under them, and Lieutenant Thompson had the misfortune to be wounded and taken prisoner. The town, however, was not really occupied till some weeks later.

Their part of the strategical programme accomplished, General Hildyard’s Division left for Ingogo, while that of General Lyttelton marched to Coetze’s Drift, due east of Ingogo, for the purpose of clearing the country between Vryheid and Wakkerstroom.

CHAPTER IX

THE INTERREGNUM AT PRETORIA

“We were all at dinner, when Wood, of Standard Bank, and Hay, the American Consul, came in with two Hollanders. Their object in coming was to get us to send officers to the 5000 odd men out at Waterval, who were threatening to break out. It transpired that Kruger and the Government were ‘clearing’ (the report said in ambulance carts). The town was in a state of chaos, looting and drinking, and the British were expected next morning. The commandant—a Hollander, and not a bad chap in spite of it—then came in and announced that the British scouts were within six miles of Pretoria, and that he expected them in on the following morning. He appealed to us as soldiers, and asked us not to make it difficult for him to carry out his duty till the end. Well, we were in such good spirits that we gave him three cheers. Then Colonel H—— got up and called for three cheers for Wood and Hay, who have done so much for our men at Waterval. If it had not been for these two, and for subscriptions in the town and from us, the men would have been absolutely neglected. For though the Boer authorities took all the credit for what was done, they did nothing, discouraging all efforts, and treating with suspicion any one who stirred in the matter. At one time the hospital almost broke down for want of funds. Well, we gave them a tremendous ovation, and then sang ‘For he’s a jolly good fellow’ over and over again. Then we struck up ‘God save the Queen.’ You never heard it sung as it was! It had been forbidden for nearly eight months. For the first Sunday when it was sung they took away the organ, and made themselves objectionable in many small ways. We had only once before sung it—on the Queen’s birthday....

“About twenty-five officers went off after dinner to keep the men in order. Waterval is about ten miles from here. If this step had not been taken there is no saying what might have happened. The men had heard the booming of guns all day, in the direction of Johannesburg, and it is not to be wondered at that when the Boers tried to move them they flatly refused to budge. There are Maxims at each corner, and the loss of life would have been very great. But the Boers gave in. What might have happened if the men got loose in the town, after so much privation and such hardships, can be imagined, but the sending of officers should alter all things.”

Naturally, at this time, the officers, who were prisoners, were bursting with excitement. On the 3rd, guns, about ten or twelve miles to south and south-west, were heard, and on the 4th, early, shells from British guns crashed on the ridge of hills south of the town—the first shots being fired at a redoubt behind the Artillery Barracks in Pretoria. Soon, to their delight, this was cleared of Boers, and subsequently two big forts on either side of the gorge in which is the railway then received attention. Three lyddite shells from the howitzer batteries were placed in the western fort, and a fierce and continuous fire from the 4.7 naval gun was concentrated on the railway station, and though the place remained intact the moral effect of the attack was sufficient to clear the course. Before dusk, more lyddite and shrapnel were concentrated on the huge hill south of Pretoria, and on part of the main ridge which had been shelled all day. The prisoners, acutely listening in their “bird cage,” fancied they heard in the distance a British cheer, and confidently went to rest calculating on the morrow’s freedom. At 1 A.M., however, they were awakened. The commandant declared that he had received orders from Botha, and they must at once pack and trek outside the town—as the town was to be defended, and was therefore unsafe. Waggons were prepared to receive the kit; and the guard, usually numbering about forty-eight, had been more than doubled; and over one hundred armed Boers and Hollanders were waiting to escort 125 defenceless officers.

Colonel Hunt, Royal Artillery, the senior prisoner, was consulted. It was known that once moved, chance of release would be uncertain; and the colonel with his brother officers decided to adopt a policy of passive resistance. They parleyed; they argued the impossibility of removal at so short notice. They demanded what mounts were provided. The commandant declared they must walk. This the officers refused to do. Colonels never walked, they said. Cavalry and field officers must be provided with horses to ride. And again in the matter of food—how about that? Thus arguing, the commandant was detained about an hour and a half; but still he declared he had come to do a duty, and do it he must. The policy of passive resistance having run to its extreme limits, the colonels decided to place the commandant under arrest—to detain him in the building and trust to luck. The assistant-commandant, who arrived to “put in his oar,” was promptly “bagged” also. At 2.45 A.M. more wrangling took place. The commandant was reminded that an agreement had been practically entered into with the Transvaal Government that the men at Waterval should be kept quiet on condition that they were not moved, and that the Transvaal Government could not move the prisoners without a breach of faith. The commandant seemed impressed, and offered his word of honour that if released he would telephone to say there could be no removal—and countermand waggons and cancel arrangements. His word of honour was accepted. The commandant retired from the prison, and the officers went to bed fearing the worst.

The remainder of the story is soon told. At 9 A.M. the Duke of Marlborough, accompanied by his irrepressible kinsman, Winston Churchill, galloped to the prison and told the prisoners they were free. The prisoners cheered and shouted themselves hoarse. The guard was disarmed without a murmur, and the prisoners’ servants placed to do duty in their stead, an arrangement which afforded them much merriment and infinite satisfaction. The whole situation was the result of a most successful piece of bluff, and the officers were not a little gratified with the exercise of diplomacy which had brought about delay at a most critical moment. They had been unable, however, to prevent the departure, on the 4th, of some 1000 prisoners, which removal was a distinct breach of faith, considering the negotiations before alluded to.

An officer related his experiences on the momentous 4th and 5th of June:—

“On Monday morning, 9 A.M., guns were heard quite close. We knew the Boers, 15,000 strong, had taken up a position about six miles out, and it was said they had solemnly sworn to die or win. About 10 A.M. we saw a shell burst over the hill to the south close to one of the forts. Then shrapnel after shrapnel was landed just over the fort and all along the crest line, about four miles away from us. Then some larger gun placed a lyddite close to the big fort, sending up an enormous column of red dust and making a huge report. It was a grand sight. It went on all day, and we sat there in deck chairs watching. We could see very few Boers about. About 3 P.M. we saw the balloon, about fifteen miles off, I should think. Later in the afternoon the railway was shelled near the suburbs, and just before dark, away to the west, we saw clouds of dust and what we took to be fleeing commandos. After such a day we all went to bed in excellent spirits. Our long depressing wait was very near its end, and we should now escape the terrible prospect of being moved away to the east. About 1 A.M. we were wakened up by the commandant, who turned on the electric light and walked along the line of beds, saying, ‘Pack up, gentlemen, you have got to start at 3 P.M. and march six miles.’ ‘Why?’ ‘I don’t know why; those are my orders.’ ‘Which direction?’ ‘To the railway, to the east.’ Well, I knew what that meant at once, for I had expected the move for the last month, and many a very depressed hour had I spent thinking of the possibility of being carted about for six months in the cold—no food—no news—and every chance of being shot down. I lay in bed thinking what I should do—what we ought all to do. Some got up at once and dressed, quite ready to move, saying they were only going to move us out of range of the firing. But Colonel H—— luckily was not of that opinion, and nearly every one felt what it meant. We knew nothing for certain, but we thought our people were only six miles off. Outside the Hollanders’ guard had been trebled—about 200—and there were about twenty armed and mounted Boers. It was soon agreed that no one should move unless a rifle was pointed at his head. The Hollanders are only half-hearted, and the Boers don’t act without leaders. So the commandant and sub-commandant, who were alone inside, and only armed with revolvers, were made prisoners. They were told we refused to move; that they would have to shoot; and that, if they did shoot, every one of them would be hung by Bobs, who, we knew, was only seven miles off. Well, the commandant was talked round and fairly bluffed. He undertook not to move us, and to become a prisoner of the Boers if they insisted. He went out and had a talk with the Boer commandant; they had words, and the Boers galloped off to the town, calling him a —— Hollander, and saying they would have to get a Maxim. We had delayed the thing anyway for a time, and the railway might be cut any time by French. It was frightfully cold; I did not turn in again. Many went and hid in the roof, in ditches, and all sorts of places, where they were bound to be found. I got a bread-knife and cut a hole in the rabbit wire, which is only a small part of the obstacle, and asked the Hollander sentry to look the other way if I tried to get out when the commander came. But there were so many of them that one was afraid of the other. He only hesitated, and said he would see. We waited on till daylight and no one came. We looked anxiously at the hills all round in hopes of seeing our troops on the hills, but could see nothing. We waited and watched anxiously, and thought we should have a day of suspense. About 8 A.M. on Tuesday, 5th June, large bodies of men were visible to the west, about seven miles off, but it was impossible to say whether they were our men or Boers. Even if they were our men, it was possible that we should be hustled off under their noses. About 9 A.M. two men in felt hats and kharki and a civilian galloped up. Even till they were 100 feet off I feared they might be Boers. Then they took off their hats and waved them; there was a yell, and we all rushed through the gate. They were Marlborough and Winston Churchill, and we were free!”

Some of the late prisoners rushed out of the enclosure down hill into the town, scampering and yelling. It was so good to be free! It was so grand to feel that the scene of their incarceration had already almost become British soil! One climbed up the flagstaff with the Union Jack in his mouth and fastened it at the top (the great emblem, manufactured from a Transvaal flag, had been held in readiness for many months). There, in the town, were British sentries over all the Government buildings, over the house of the President—where Mrs. Kruger still remained—and over all the banks, and in the square. But the smart guardsman of Pall Mall was nowadays strangely transmogrified. Battered and travel-stained in his shabby kharki and worn helmet—the latter perhaps adorned, in lieu of plume, with tooth-brush, spoon, or other useful article—and equipped with loaf or cook-pot, or like practical paraphernalia not laid down in the regulations, he made a quaint, yet inspiriting picture of martial vagabondage. But to the eyes of his long-expecting fellow-countrymen he was none the less refreshing, almost adorable, and in a perfect frenzy of rejoicing the prisoners laughed and threw up their hats and waved their arms like very lunatics freed from strait-waistcoats, or the thrall of the padded room.

The chief was not timed to arrive till two, but long before that hour the prisoners of war were drawn up in the square to feast their eyes with a sight for which they had hungered wearily, some of them since the grievous autumn days when they had found themselves in Dundee hospital at the mercy of the Boers. And sure enough the spectacle that then followed was worth waiting a lifetime to see, and one which none who witnessed it will ever forget.

To return, however, to Johannesburg, and to those who, during this time of terrific suspense, were marching as fast as legs would carry them to take possession of the Boer capital.

FROM JOHANNESBURG TO PRETORIA

June had opened more than propitiously. It found Lord Roberts with the British flag hoisted in Johannesburg, and within appreciable distance of seizing the capital, while in the southern portion of the Free State, rebellion was known to be nearing its conclusion. General Brabant—after some exciting experiences at Hammonia, in which Lieutenant Langmore (Border Horse) was severely wounded, and Lieutenants Boyes and Budler were made prisoners—had just joined hands with General Rundle. The former was engaged in watching the passes around the Basuto border, while the latter, with his usual vigilance and animation, mounted guard over the region between Ficksburg and Senekal. Here (at Senekal) General Clements caught up the chain and made his Brigade into a connecting link with the forces of Lord Methuen, which were at Lindley, forty miles to the north, which latter place was within communicable distance of Heilbron, where General Sir H. Colvile with the Highland Brigade kept clear the passage to the north. Thus it will be seen a complete cordon of communications was maintained, which formed a barrier to further inroads by the Free Staters, and forced them little by little to take their choice between surrender or flight.

At the same time a change had been wrought in the condition of affairs, and the Orange Free State had been rechristened the Orange River Colony.

At noon, on the 28th of May, an interesting ceremony had taken place in the Market Square at Bloemfontein and the Royal Standard had been hoisted. General Pretyman (Military Governor), surrounded with a vast concourse of persons, both British and Dutch, had read in an impressive voice for the benefit of all concerned, Lord Roberts’s proclamation annexing the Orange Free State—which had been conquered by Her Majesty’s Forces—to the Queen’s dominions. He had then declared that henceforth the State would be recognised as the Orange River Colony, after which the troops presented arms and a salute of twenty-one guns was fired by the Naval Brigade and Royal Artillery, followed by lusty cheers for the Queen. At the same time a very different scene had been enacted in Pretoria. By the order of President Kruger, the day had been observed as one of humiliation throughout the country; humiliation and prayer for relief from oppression and preservation of the independence of the country—the country whose independence had been wrecked entirely by the ignorant and careless pilotage of the President himself.

In Johannesburg itself quietness soon began to reign, the people coming in resignedly to give up arms. On the whole there seemed to prevail a general sentiment of surprised relief at the peaceful mode of British occupation, and a dawning hope that before long hostilities would come to an end, and life resume its workaday habit. For the first two days of June the chief remained encamped at Orange Grove in order that all the troops, rested from their fatigues, might be gradually moved up so as to surround Pretoria, north, west, and south. But meanwhile the cavalry made a reconnaissance, and in course of the operations Lieutenants Durrand, Sadleir, Jackson, and Pollock, 9th Lancers, were wounded. The latter officer was missing, as was also Lieutenant the Hon. C. M. Evans-Freke, 16th Lancers.

From Johannesburg to Pretoria the distance is about thirty miles by road. East and west of Johannesburg for some 100 miles runs the Witwatersrand ridge, which commands the town and offers a strong position against any enemy advancing from the south. At Boksburg, on the east, are various natural redoubts of rubbish heaps thrown up from the mines, whose hideous chimneys rise clear against the cloudy atmosphere of the swarming city. Further on comes a species of desert, dotted now and then with a green oasis, and sliced with valleys wrinkled with undulating ridges, and beyond that, Pretoria. The town sits, so to speak, in the lap of hills, each hill crowned with forts, of which the two most formidable faced south, as menace to all invaders. The natural disposition of the surrounding heights makes it possible for a small force to resist a strong one with comparative ease. On the north a girdle of eminences, each a rocky and frowning fortress, renders approach in face of the enemy well-nigh impossible. Beyond Six-Mile Spruit, which lies some twenty-six miles from the Rand, and six from the capital, are three more frowning ridges, natural strongholds. And these it was necessary to assail. Both Schanzkop to west and Klapperkop to east of the line looked gaunt and ominous, the very fire and sword of the cherubim, and the approaches were charred black by intentional veldt fires so as to serve as blackboards to throw up any demonstrations in chalk-grey kharki. It was here, nevertheless, that the chief had decided to make his entry to Pretoria, keeping the direct Johannesburg road, and avoiding if possible the more dangerous of the fortified positions.

On the 3rd of June the great march was resumed. The army moved in three columns—the Cavalry Division under General French on the left, General Ian Hamilton’s force in the centre, the main column, consisting of Pole-Carew’s Division and Maxwell’s Brigade of Tucker’s Division (General Wavell’s Brigade was left to hold Johannesburg), Gordon’s Cavalry Brigade (covering the eastern flank) and the corps troops under the chief’s direct command bearing towards the line of rail as described. Colonel Henry, with Ross’s Mounted Infantry, Compton’s Horse, the Sussex Yeomanry, the Victorian Rifles, the Colt Battery, and J Horse Battery, formed the advance guard of the main column, while Colonel de Lisle’s 6th Mounted Infantry formed the advance guard of General Ian Hamilton’s Division.

At dawn, on the 4th of June, Colonel Henry came in touch with the enemy at Six-Mile Spruit. Report had hinted that the Boers could not decide to offer opposition to the entry of the troops, and it was hoped that no serious fighting was intended. But there was tough work to come. The enemy opened fire and forced the troops to take cover for a time; but, afterwards, holding their own, they pushed on in view of Schanzkop and Klapperkop, the forts which yet suggested horrible possibilities. The enemy was also ensconced in sangars on other ridges round about, and assiduously plied their magazines. Then followed an artillery contest between J Battery and the guns of the Dutchmen, while Ross’s Mounted Infantry, hastening to the left, secured a position from which another battery was enabled to join in the thunderous chorus.

No sooner was it found that Colonel Henry was definitely engaged, than General Ian Hamilton, who was somewhat west of the main army, was ordered to combine and assist the now warming operations—and presently his mounted troops had reinforced the advanced line, while the artillery of the main column came vigorously into play. A big gun from Schantz Fort sounded; a reply from the blue-jackets spat out. Lyddite burst over the feebly demonstrating Boers and damaged them, and showed them, that if they asked for it, there was more to come. At three, fifty guns threatened in concert—an argument that was well-nigh conclusive. Meanwhile up came the infantry, grandly steady in their advance. To right went the Guards’ Brigade over the blackboard prepared for them, while Stephenson’s Brigade, with Maxwell’s Brigade on its left, forged straight ahead. There were kindly boulders which presently covered them, and allowed them to open a warning fire with rifles and Maxims. The Boers by this knew what to expect. They knew that their hours in their commanding kops were numbered; they knew by this time that the bayonet’s gleam might follow, and then——

They had little time to consider. General Broadwood’s troopers were making for their right flank, debouching in the distant plain on the left, circling them round, menacing their retreat. Up the kopjes swarmed the infantry, away towards the enemy’s flank galloped the cavalry—bang and boom and boom roared the heavy artillery, addressing the forts that had seemed to play the cherubim to British advance. These were mute. The projectiles battered them or passed on into the town itself whence rifle fire burst out in fitful cascades, but resistance was no longer in the Dutchmen.... It was now growing dusk. Colonel de Lisle’s sprightly Australians, cutting across country, were chasing Boers and guns almost into the town, while the infantry with sunset, were occupying the coveted positions—were handling the key of Pretoria!

But the Australians, darkness or no darkness, were on the war-path—nothing could stop them. They captured the flying Maxim of the flying Dutchmen, pursued them till they were within rifle fire of the streets—the streets where scurrying and panic-stricken forms were to be seen like ants disturbed, running hither and thither. Then Colonel de Lisle, equal to the occasion, profited by the general dismay and the demoralisation to send in an officer under a flag of truce to demand the surrender of the town.

An account of this momentous episode was given by Lieutenant W. W. Russell Watson, a Sydney officer, who was the most prominent actor in the proceedings:—

“Colonel de Lisle came up, beaming with delight, and said, ‘Now, lad, you have done so well, are you fit to take the white flag into the city and demand the surrender of the city in the name of Lord Roberts and the British army?’ ‘Rather!’ said I. So we tied a handkerchief on to a whip, and after saying good-bye to Holmes and the others, I started for the Landdrost of the capital with the white flag in the air alone and unarmed.

“I had not gone far when I was stopped by an artilleryman, so requested him to take me into town. He did so; but the Landdrost (chief magistrate), the Burgomaster (mayor), the Commandant-General, were still fighting on the hills about the city, so the Secretary of State was found, and he conducted me to Commandant-General Botha’s private residence. He then telephoned to the Secretary for War, and they then despatched messages to their Generals to come at once to a council of war. First, General Botha himself came; then Generals Meyer and Walthusein and the military governors of the city. By this time I had been there two hours, during which time Mrs. Botha kindly gave me coffee and sandwiches, which, as I had not had a square meal for thirty-six hours, were most acceptable.

“Now came the discussion of the council. The General asked my mission, and this I told him with as much dignity as I could muster. He looked me up and down, and told me to be seated. They all spoke in Dutch, and some of the Generals were very excited. However, after an hour’s chat, they drew up a letter, and Botha informed me that if I would conduct the Governor of the city to Lord Roberts, terms and conditions would be arranged. So they all shook hands with me, and said that I ought to be pleased at meeting their greatest statesmen and Generals.

“Off I went with the Governor and General Walthusein to Colonel de Lisle, who was waiting on the outskirts of the city for my return. The Colonel then joined us, and away we went to Lord Roberts, who was six miles off; so we did not arrive until 10.45 P.M. He was in bed, so just sat up and said, ‘How do you do? If General Botha wishes to discuss with me the unconditional surrender of the town, I will meet him at Colonel de Lisle’s camp at 9 A.M. to-morrow. In the meantime, I will not fire a shot. Good-night!’”

So unconditional surrender it was, and that at the cost of little more than seventy killed and wounded.

The report of the chief was as follows:—

“Shortly before midnight I was awoke by the officials of the South African Republic, Sandburg, Military Secretary to Commander-General Botha, and a general officer of the Boer army, who brought me a letter from Botha, proposing an armistice for the purpose of settling terms of surrender.

“I replied that I would gladly meet the Commander-General the next morning, but that I was not prepared to discuss any terms, as the surrender of the town must be unconditional.

“I asked for a reply by daybreak, as I had ordered the troops to march on the town as soon as it was light.

“In his reply, Botha told me that he had decided not to defend Pretoria, and that he trusted that the women, children, and property would be protected.”

The next morning the main army moved on towards the railway station, while General Ian Hamilton’s troops wound their way to the west of the town. (General French, it may be noted, had made his way to the north, and had skirmished himself into possession of an enveloping area.) Pretoria was now in sight. But even as the troops neared the railway station, trains—trains bearing away the surrendering Hollanders—were seen to be steaming forth. A chase followed, but barbed wire, gardens, houses, made pursuit impossible, and one train escaped. Others which were still in the station, however, were arrested, but not before a scrimmage of a bellicose kind had taken place between Major Shute, the advance guard, and the would-be fugitives. Then followed the release of the British prisoners and the excited rushing of the emancipated ones through the town. Meanwhile Major Maude and his party moved along amid the expectant populace, placing sentries at important points in the road, to the tune of the roars and cheers from the British prisoners, who—many of them—were almost wild with enthusiasm. After having secured the government buildings, the officers of the Staff attached to the Guards’ Brigade paid their respects to Mrs. Kruger, who, attired in black silk and a white cap, received them with her usual Dutch calm, in the cottage where the old statesman was wont to live in almost peasant-like simplicity. Here, not many days ago, the most interesting, if not the most admired, figure of latter-day history had smoked the cavernous pipe which was his invariable companion. Here, not many days ago, sitting in the shady verandah and guarded by two policemen, and the white marble lions given him by Mr. Barnato, he had plotted and schemed behind the impenetrable mask that served him for a face. Now he was gone; and the great marble lions, massive and obdurate as ever, had become as the emblems of British majesty. The commanding officer informed the wife of the late President that the burghers guarding the Presidency would now be replaced by British soldiers, whereupon the Dutch guard placed pistols and ammunition on the pavement by the side of the marble monsters; and their occupation, now and henceforth, was ended!

At two o’clock, on the 5th of June, came the grand finale. Lord Roberts, Lord Kitchener, the Staff, and foreign attachés, numbering nearly 300, formed up in the main square in the centre of the magnificent official buildings, and there, once more, was hoisted the British flag amid the cheers—sincere and insincere—of the populace. Then followed the great spectacle—a pageant wherein was asserted the majesty of Great Britain—in the form of an unending host of muscular and disciplined heroes. The roll of drums, the flow of kharki, the clank and clang of armed men, began and continued for hours and hours, while the amazed inhabitants, arrayed in their bucolic best, wide-mouthed, wide-eyed, stood watching the vast procession, the like of which the little town had never before beheld.

Particularly remarkable among the vast cortège of seasoned warriors were the patriotic C.I.V.’s, whose soldierly bearing drew forth eulogies from the chief himself. All were agreed that they were the finest body of men that had ever been seen, and every one declared that their actions had been as excellent as their appearance.

A not less attractive feature of the great day was the march past of the Naval Brigade, its smart amphibians, its jolly blue-jackets so square and brawny and brave, and its big guns on improved gun-carriages, all of which had done such good work from beginning to end. The roar that greeted them as they swung along the streets of the conquered town was a sound to echo in the memory for many a year to come.

At such an imposing spectacle in so primitive an arena our enemies—real or subsidised—of course, took the opportunity to scoff. True, the ceremonial was scarcely as impressive as might have been the occupation of some less primitive capital; but its significance was twofold, and had ramifications far beneath the surface. The importance of the event to the British nation, and indeed to the whole European audience of critics, could not be overestimated. For, not a spectacle, but a symbol was intended. Great Britain came, not to conquer new territories, nor to acquire new power. She came to assert herself, and maintain her prestige in the face of the whole world, and meant, by the occupation of Pretoria, to mark the new epoch, drawing a line between the old era of maladministration, chicanery, and despotism, and a fresh one of law and order, and equal rights for white men. The great object of the war, therefore, had been achieved.

In October 1899, the Government of the South African Republic had sent an ultimatum to the Government of the British Empire. To this there could be but one answer, and that answer was given. Lord Roberts, in the month of March 1900, seized the capital of the Orange Free State, and in June took possession of the capital of the Transvaal, and from that time the two South African Republics virtually ceased to exist. Within appreciable distance we now saw before us a vast British Empire stretching from the Cape to the Zambesi, and a huge population—a mixed population consisting of a majority of Kaffirs and a minority of Dutch and English-speaking Europeans—cemented together by the most just and fair of all laws—British law. If the principles that guide this law had been followed by the two extinct Republics, which had owed their very existence to British toleration and British magnanimity, they would have continued to live and to prosper, and to develop in harmony with their own interests and those of the Mother Power which, so to speak, had afforded them the protection to promote their own growth. But, having grown, having battened on the advantages of their position in relation to the British, they became inflated with the idea of their own importance, and denied to the English-speaking settlers in the Transvaal that liberality of treatment which was extended to their own countrymen in the British colonies. The arrogance of this denial, and the success in maintaining it for many years, gave birth to more arrogance still. The British at last were not only to be trodden down, but were to be driven into the sea!

That Mr. Kruger should have so far lost his sound common sense as to dream of an ascendency of the Dutch in South Africa, was due partly to the misleading representations of needy foreigners and chevaliers d’industrie, who endeavoured to convert the President into a figurehead for their own piratical cruiser, and also to the folly of certain self-seeking British politicians, who tried to persuade the shrewd Dutchman into a belief in Boer arms and Boer diplomacy, and actually deceived him with the notion that their sympathetic bleats represented the trumpet voice of the British nation! It became necessary to teach him his mistake, and the lesson was taught. Thus it came to pass that, at the end of a long and really remarkable career, the despot was fleeing as fast as steam would carry him from the scene of his life’s labours, while Lord Roberts, crowned with years and honour, reigned in his stead!