The Petticoat Commando: Boer Women in Secret Service
by Johanna Brandt · English · Gutenberg #20194 · 567,707 chars · public domain (US)
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Title: The Petticoat Commando: Boer Women in Secret Service
Author: Johanna Brandt
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THE PETTICOAT COMMANDO
Or
Boer Women in Secret Service
by
JOHANNA BRANDT
With Ten Illustrations
[Illustration: THE WRITER]
Mills & Boon, Limited
49 Rupert Street
London, W.
Colonial Edition
Published 1913
To
HANSIE'S MOTHER
AS A PEACE-OFFERING
FOR HAVING BROUGHT HER INTO PUBLICITY
IN DIRECT OPPOSITION
TO HER WISHES
FOREWORD
In introducing the English version of this book I venture to bespeak a
welcome for it, not only for the light which it throws on some
little-known incidents of the South African war, but also because of
the keen personal interest of the events recorded. It is more than a
history. It is a dramatic picture of the hopes and fears, the devotion
and bitterness with which some patriotic women in Pretoria watched
and, as far as they could, took part in the war which was slowly
drawing to its conclusion on the veld outside.
I do not associate myself with the opinions expressed by the writer as
to the causes of the war or the methods adopted to bring it to an end,
or as to the policy which led to the Concentration Camps, and the
causes of the terrible mortality which prevailed during the first
months of their existence. On these matters many readers will hold
different opinions from the writer, or will prefer to let judgment be
in suspense and to look to the historian of the future for a final
verdict. We are still too near the events to be impartial. But this
book does not challenge or invite controversy. Fortunately for South
Africa, most of us on both sides can now discuss the events of the war
without bitterness and understand and respect the feelings of those
who were most sharply divided by these events from ourselves.
The greater part of the narrative comes from a diary kept during the
war with unusual fullness and vividness. The difficulty experienced by
the writer of the diary in communicating to friends outside Pretoria
information about what was passing inside, and in unburdening herself
of the feelings roused in her by the events of the war, made the diary
more than usually intimate. To understand fully many of the narratives
which have been transferred from it to this book, it must be
remembered that one is reading, not something written from memory
years after the event, but rather the record of a conversation at the
time, in which the diarist is describing the events as if to a friend
who shares to the full all her own feelings and to whom she can speak
without reserve.
Much has happened in the ten years which have passed since the end of
the war. The country which was distracted by the conflicting ideals
and interests of its different Governments and peoples has become the
Union of South Africa. It is now one State. It remains that it should
call forth a spirit of patriotism and nationality which will unite and
not divide its people.
PATRICK DUNCAN.
JOHANNESBURG, 1912.
INTRODUCTION
If, by inspiring feelings of patriotism in the hearts of some of my
readers, especially those members of the rising generation to whom
this story of adventure may appeal, I succeed in raising the standard
of national life, this book will have achieved the purpose for which
it was written, and I shall feel more than compensated for having set
aside the reluctance with which I faced the thought of the publicity
when first I began the work.
I have tried to give the public some idea of what was done by Boer
women, during the great Anglo-Boer war, to keep their men in the field
and to support them in what proved to be a hopeless struggle for
independence and liberty.
As far as I was able I have also described the perils and hardships
connected with the Secret Service of the Boers and the heroism and
resource displayed by the men.
Although it is with the knowledge and consent of the Boer leaders that
I give publicity to what is known to me of the methods employed in the
Secret Service of the Boers, I do not wish to convey the impression
that these events of the war at any time bore an official character.
It is a purely personal narrative and has only been written at the
repeated request, during the last ten years, of the many friends
associated with the experiences of the diarist and of the principal
characters appearing in this book.
In order to preserve the historical value of the book no fictitious
names have been employed.
There are, as far as we know, very few records of this nature in
existence, owing to the dangers connected with keeping a diary under
martial law, and it seemed a pity, therefore, to withhold from the
public materials which may be of use to those who are interested in
studying or writing the history of those critical years.
I cannot vouch for the truth of every war rumour related here, nor for
the accuracy of the information which I have obtained from other
people, but the experiences of the diarist, as they were recorded from
day to day, are correct in every detail.
My Dutch edition of this book, _Die Kappie Kommando_, is now appearing
in the Dutch South African bi-monthly journal, _Die Brandwag_, and
will, when completed, be published in book form in Holland.
In conclusion, I should like to take this opportunity of expressing my
thanks to the Honourable Sir Richard Solomon, G.C.M.G., etc., for the
help and assistance which he has so kindly given me in connection with
the publication of my book.
THE WRITER.
JOHANNESBURG, 1912.
CONTENTS
PAGE
FOREWORD BY PATRICK DUNCAN, C.M.G., M.L.A. vii
INTRODUCTION ix
CHAPTER
I. THE SCENE OF ACTION 1
II. HOW THE MINES WERE SAVED 15
III. THE SURRENDER OF THE GOLDEN CITY 24
IV. MARTIAL LAW UNDER THE ENEMY 32
V. ONLY A BIT OF RIBBON GAY! 42
VI. PASSES AND PERMITS 46
VII. POSTAGE BY STRATEGY 56
VIII. OUTWITTING THE CENSOR 64
IX. JAN CELLIERS, POET AND PATRIOT 72
X. A LITTLE ADVENTURE WITH THE BRITISH SOLDIER 82
XI. PRISONER OF WAR 92
XII. THE CONCENTRATION CAMPS 106
XIII. A CONSULAR VISIT TO IRENE CAMP 124
XIV. NEW DEVELOPMENTS 135
XV. THE FORMATION OF THE NATIONAL SCOUTS CORPS 146
XVI. A CONSIGNMENT OF EXPLOSIVES 153
XVII. THE FIRST INTERVIEW WITH SPIES, INTRODUCING TWO
HEROES 157
XVIII. THE CASE OF SPOELSTRA 166
XIX. DIAMOND CUT DIAMOND! 179
XX. THANKSGIVING AND HUMILIATION 187
XXI. FLIPPIE AND CO. 194
XXII. THE SECRET RAILWAY TIME-TABLE 204
XXIII. THE SYSTEM EMPLOYED BY THE SECRET COMMITTEE 213
XXIV. THE DEATH OF ADOLPH KRAUSE 222
XXV. THE SHOEMAKER AT WORK 229
XXVI. BITTEN BY OUR OWN DOGS 234
XXVII. THE BETRAYAL OF THE SECRET COMMITTEE.
A MEMORABLE DAY OF TROUBLE 240
XXVIII. HANSIE EARNING THE VOTE 252
XXIX. A WAR-BABY AND A CURIOUS CHRISTENING 262
XXX. FORMING A NEW COMMITTEE 272
XXXI. "TEA FOR TWO" 279
XXXII. KIDNAPPING MAUSER THE KITTEN 283
XXXIII. THE FIRST SPIES AT HARMONY 291
XXXIV. THE CAPTAIN'S VISIT 301
XXXV. MEMORIES BITTER-SWEET 312
XXXVI. A SILENT DEPARTURE. "FARE THEE WELL" 316
XXXVII. BETRAYED 324
XXXVIII. THE RAID ON HARMONY 333
XXXIX. THE WATCHWORD. OILING THE HINGES 343
XL. PEACE, PEACE--AND THERE IS NO PEACE 356
CONCLUSION 375
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
THE WRITER _Frontispiece_
FACING PAGE
MRS. VAN WARMELO 4
THE SURRENDER OF THE GOLDEN CITY 30
LETTER FROM HEAD OF SECRET SERVICE TO PRESIDENT 70
THE SIX WILLOWS, HARMONY 83
CAPTAIN NAUDÉ 136
W.J. BOTHA 158
GENTLEMAN JIM'S ROOM 178
ADOLPH KRAUSE 225
THE APIARY, HARMONY 289
THE PETTICOAT COMMANDO
CHAPTER I
THE SCENE OF ACTION
When, on October 11th, 1899, shortly before 5 o'clock in the
afternoon, martial law was proclaimed throughout the Transvaal and
Orange Free State, South Africa, and after the great exodus of British
subjects had taken place, there remained in Pretoria, where the
principal events recorded here took place, a harmonious community of
Boers and sympathisers, who for eight months enjoyed the novel
advantage of Boer freedom under Boer martial law.
The remaining English residents were few in number, and kept, to all
appearance, "strictly neutral," until the morning of June 5th, 1900,
when the British troops poured into the capital.
The two people chiefly concerned in this story, mother and daughter,
lived in Sunnyside, a south-eastern suburb of Pretoria, on a large and
beautiful old property, appropriately called Harmony, one of the
oldest estates in the capital.
This historical place consisted of a simple, comfortable farm-house,
with a rambling garden--a romantic spot, and an ideal setting for the
adventures and enterprises here recorded.
At the time our story opens, the owner, Mrs. van Warmelo, was living
alone on it with her daughter, Hansie, a girl of twenty-two, the
diarist referred to in the Introduction.
The other members of the family, though they took no part in those
events of the war which took place within the capital, were so closely
connected with the principal figures in this book that their
introduction will be necessary here.
The family consisted of five, two daughters and three sons. The elder
daughter was married and was living at Wynberg near Cape Town, the
younger, as we have seen, was with her mother in Pretoria during the
war, while of the sons, two, the eldest and the youngest, Dietlof and
Fritz, were on commando, having left the capital with the first
contingent of volunteers on September 28th.
The third brother, Willem, who had been studying in Holland when the
war broke out, had, with his mother's knowledge and permission, given
up his nearly completed studies and had come to South Africa, to take
part in the deadly struggle in which his fellow-countrymen were
engaged.
In order to achieve his purpose, he had taken the only route open to
him, the eastern route through Delagoa Bay, and had joined his
brothers in the field, after a brief sojourn with his mother and
sister at Harmony.
Considering the circumstances under which he had joined the Boer
forces and the sacrifice he had made for love of fatherland, it was
particularly sad that he should have been made a prisoner at the last
great fight at the Tugela, the battle of Pieter's Height in Natal, on
February 27th, after a very short experience of commando life.
He was lodged in the Maritzburg jail at this time, where things would
have gone hard with him, but for the loving-kindness of his cousin,
Miss Berning, now Lady Bale, who frequently visited him with her
sister, and provided him with baskets of fruit and other delicacies,
which helped greatly to brighten the long months of his imprisonment.
Later on, through the influence of his brother-in-law, Mr. Henry
Cloete, of "Alphen," Wynberg, he was released on parole, and allowed
to return to Holland to complete his studies. His name therefore will
no more appear in these pages.
He was "out of action" once and for all, and could not be made use of,
even when, later on, through the development of the events with which
this book deals, his services were most required by his mother and
sister.
The other two brothers, as we have said, had left Pretoria with the
first volunteers.
It is strange that the first blood shed in that terrible war should
have been that of a young Boer accidentally shot by a comrade.
As a train, laden with its burden of brave and hopeful burghers,
steamed slowly through the cutting on the south-eastern side of
Pretoria, volleys of farewell shots were fired.
It is customary to extract the bullets from the cartridges on such
occasions, but one of the burghers must have omitted to do this, with
the result that the bullet, rebounding from the rocks, penetrated a
carriage window, and seriously wounded one of the occupants.
Was this event prophetic of a later development of the war, when, as
we shall see, Boer shed the blood of brother Boer in the formation of
the National Scouts Corps?
Mrs. van Warmelo was a "voor-trekker," a pioneer, in every sense of
the word. As a girl of fourteen she had left Natal with her parents
and had "trekked," with other families, through the wild waste of
country, into the unknown and barbaric regions in which she was
destined to spend her youth.
She had watched the growth of a new country, the building up of a new
race. She had known all the hardships and dangers of life in an
unsettled and uncivilised land, had been through a number of Kaffir
wars and could speak, through personal experience, of many adventures
with savage foes and wild beasts. Her children knew her stories by
heart, and it is not to be wondered at that they grew up with the love
of adventure strong in them. And above all things, they grew up with a
strong love for the strange, rich, wild country for which their
forefathers had fought and suffered.
Mrs. van Warmelo was the eldest daughter of a family of sixteen. Her
father, Dietlof Siegfried Maré, for many years Landdrost of
Zoutpansberg, that northern territory of the Transvaal, was a direct
descendant of the Huguenot fugitives, and was a typical Frenchman,
short of stature, dark, vivacious, and exceedingly humorous, a man
remembered by all who knew him for his great hospitality and for
the shrewd, quaint humour of his sayings.
[Illustration: MRS. VAN WARMELO.]
Some years after their arrival in Zoutpansberg, Mrs. van Warmelo had
married a Hollander, a young minister of the Dutch Reformed Church. Of
him it is not necessary to speak in this book.
He had taken his part in the first Anglo-Boer war and had passed away
in Heidelberg, Transvaal, leaving to the people of his adopted
fatherland and to his children a rich inheritance in the memory of a
life spent in doing noble deeds--a life of rare self-sacrifice.
His family had left Heidelberg a few years after his death, and had
taken up their abode in the capital in order to be near Mrs. van
Warmelo's married daughter, Mrs. Cloete, who then lived close to
Harmony, in Sunnyside.
It was a wild, romantic suburb in those days, being still almost
entirely in its natural state. Grass-covered hills, clumps of mimosa,
and other wild trees, with here and there an old homestead
picturesquely situated in isolated spots, were all there was to be
seen.
Of all the private properties in this suburb, Harmony was the most
overgrown and neglected when Mrs. van Warmelo first took possession of
it.
It was bounded at the lower, the western end, by the Aapies River, a
harmless rivulet in its normal state--almost dry, in fact, during the
winter season--but in flood a most dangerous and destructive element,
overflowing its banks and sweeping away every obstruction in its wild
course.
The property was overgrown with rank vegetation and reminded one of
the impenetrable forest abode of the "Sleeping Beauty" of fairy-tale
fame.
Friends wondered that Mrs. van Warmelo had the courage to live alone
with her daughter Hansie in such a wild and desolate spot, and they
wondered still more when they heard of the alarming experience the two
ladies had the very first night they spent in their new home.
On their arrival, there were still workmen busy repairing the house,
and Mrs. van Warmelo pointed out to one of them that the skylight
above the bathroom door had not yet been put in. The man nailed a
piece of canvas over it, with the remark that that would do for the
night, and that he would put in the skylight on his return the next
day. Mrs. van Warmelo was only half satisfied, but left the matter
there.
During the night one of her own servants, a sullen,
treacherous-looking native, recently in her employment, entered the
bathroom by putting a ladder against the door and tearing away the
canvas from the skylight.
He must then have unlocked the door on the inside, striking about a
dozen matches while he was in the room, and carried various
portmanteaux out into the garden, where he slashed them open at the
sides and overhauled their contents for money and valuables.
Early the next morning Mrs. van Warmelo was roused by old Anne
Merriman, the only woman servant on the place, who came in from the
garden with articles of wearing apparel which she had picked up under
the trees, and which she held up to the astonished gaze of her
mistress. On investigating further, they found the garden littered
with articles of clothing, valuable documents, and title-deeds, which
the thief had thrown aside as worthless, in his search for money.
The only things of value which he had taken with him were a set of
pearl ear-rings and brooch, and a beautiful lined "kaross," or rug,
made of the skins of wild South African animals. Nothing was seen of
him again, but Mrs. van Warmelo immediately got a revolver and kept
watch for him, hoping, yet fearing, that he would return for more
plunder.
This was a sad beginning, and old Anne added to their fears by
predicting every imaginable calamity to the inhabitants of Harmony.
She was gifted with second-sight, so she said, and often saw a man in
grey about the place; his presence "boded no good," and old Anne soon
after left the place, with many warnings to her mistress to follow her
example, before she could be overtaken by disaster.
All this had taken place long before the war broke out. Harmony had in
the meantime been vastly improved, the dense undergrowth having been
cut away, and the row of enormous willow trees, with which the house
was overshadowed, having been removed, while large flower and
vegetable gardens had been laid out, where once a jungle-like growth
of shrubs and rank grass had abounded.
Much of the natural beauty still remained, however, and Harmony was a
favourite resort for many people in Pretoria. Young and old visited
the place, especially during the summer months when the garden was
laden with its wealth of fruit and flowers; and of these friends of
the family many figure in these pages, while some do not appear at
all, having had no part in the stirring events with which this book
deals.
Amongst the most frequent visitors at Harmony were the Consul-General
for the Netherlands, Mr. Domela-Nieuwenhuis and his wife, and other
members of the Diplomatic Corps with their families.
These friendships had been formed before the war, and it was only
natural that they should have been strengthened and deepened by the
trying circumstances of the years during which the country was
convulsed by such unspeakable tragedies.
Although the position held by these men debarred them from taking any
part whatsoever in the events of the war, their sympathies were
undoubtedly with the people of South Africa. They suffered with and
for their friends, and they must frequently have been weighed down by
a sense of their powerlessness to alleviate the distress around them,
which they were forced to witness; but they were, without exception,
men of high integrity, and observed with strict honour the obligations
laid upon them by their position of trust.
Needless to say, they were not aware of the conspiracies which were
carried on at Harmony; to this day they are ignorant of the dangers to
which the van Warmelos were exposed and the hazardous nature of many
of the enterprises in which mother and daughter were engaged, and I
look forward with delight to the privilege of presenting each of these
gentlemen with a copy of this book, in which they will find so many
revelations of an unexpected and startling nature.
It is not my intention to go into the details of the first encounters
with the enemy, nor to describe the siege-comedy of Mafeking, where
Baden-Powell, as principal actor, maintained a humorous correspondence
with the Boers; nor of Kimberley, where Cecil Rhodes said he felt as
safe as in Piccadilly; nor of Dundee, where the Boers were said to
have found a large number of brand-new side-saddles, originally
destined to be used by British officers on arrival at the capital,
where they hoped to take the ladies of Pretoria riding, but ultimately
consigned to the flames by the indignant brothers and lovers of those
very ladies; nor of the fine linen, silver, cut-glass, and fingerbowls
found and destroyed by the Boers in the luxurious British camp at
Dundee. I shall not dwell upon the glorious victories of the first
months, the capture of armoured trains, the blowing up of bridges, the
besieging of towns, the arrival in Pretoria of the first British
prisoners and the long sojourn of British officers in captivity in the
Model School--from where, incidentally, Winston Churchill escaped in
an ingenious way--and the crushing news of the first Boer reverses at
Dundee and Elandslaagte.
Are these historical events not fully recorded in other books, by
other writers more competent than myself?
A three-volume book would hardly contain the experiences Hansie had,
first in the Volks Hospital in Pretoria and later in the State Girls'
School, as volunteer nurse, but I shall pass over the events of the
first eight months of war under Boer martial law and introduce my
reader to that period in May 1900 shortly before the British took
possession of the capital.
The two remaining brothers van Warmelo were at this time retreating
with the now completely demoralised Boer forces, before the terrific
onslaughts made upon them by the enemy.
Blow after blow was delivered by the English in quiet succession on
their forced march from Bloemfontein to Pretoria, and it was on May
25th that the roar of Boer cannon reached the capital for the first
time.
Looking south-east from Harmony, Mrs. and Miss van Warmelo were able
to watch the Boer commandos pouring into the town--_straggling_ would
be a better word, for there was no one in command, and the weary men
on their jaded horses passed in groups of twos and threes, and in
small contingents of from fifty to a hundred.
Mrs. van Warmelo fully expected to see her sons among the number and
made preparations to welcome them, for under the roar of cannon the
fatted turkey had been killed and roasted and a large plum-pudding
made.
Suddenly two men on horseback turned out of the wayside and rode
straight up to the gate.
"Perhaps these men are bringing us news of our boys," Mrs. van Warmelo
said to her daughter, who was watching them with anxiety at her heart.
The men dismounted at the gate and walked up to the two women, leading
their horses slowly over the grass.
No one spoke until the men were a few yards off, when Hansie
exclaimed, with unbounded joy and relief, "Why, they _are_ our boys!"
With unkempt hair and long beards, covered with dust, tattered and
weary, no wonder mother and sister failed to recognise them at first!
When the first greetings were over, the young men gave what news they
could--stupefying news of the advance of the enemy in overwhelming
numbers, and of the flight and confusion of what remained of the Boer
forces.
"What are you going to do?" their mother asked.
"Rest and feed our horses first of all, mother," Dietlof, the elder,
replied. "They are worn out and unfit for use. And when we have
equipped ourselves for whatever may be in store for us, we must join
some small commando and escape from the town. Little or no resistance
is being offered by our men, and it is evident that Pretoria will not
be defended. All we can do is to escape before the English take
possession."
Mrs. van Warmelo then told her sons of the retreat of the President
from the capital, with the entire Government, by the eastern railway
route.
The greatest consternation had been caused by this flight at first,
but subsequent events went to prove that this was the wisest course
which could have been pursued.
In this decision the President had been urged by his wife, and Mrs.
van Warmelo went on to tell how the brave old lady had said to her in
an expressive way, on the occasion of her last visit at the
President's house:
"My dear friend, do not fear. No Englishman will ever lay his hand on
the coat-tails of the President."
It is quite impossible to describe the confusion that ensued during
the next few days.
No one knew what to do; there were no organised Boer forces to join,
there was no one in command, and, after long deliberation, the two
young men, urged by mother and sister, came to the conclusion that,
whatever other men might be doing, _their_ duty was to get out of
Pretoria and join whatever band of fighting burghers there might still
be in the field.
The same spirit of determination not to fall into the hands of the
enemy while the Boer Government was free, and could continue
organising the war, prevailed amongst most of the men in Pretoria, and
daily small parties could be seen leaving the town, in carts, on
horseback, on bicycles, and even on foot. Where they were going and
when they would return no one knew.
On the morning of June 4th, the necessary preparations for the
departure of the young men having been made, as they were sitting at
what proved to be their last meal together for such long and terrible
years, they were suddenly startled by the sound of cannon-firing and
the whistling of a shell through the air.
They listened, speechless, as the shell burst on Schanskop Fort, on
the Sunnyside hill, just beyond Harmony, with an explosion that shook
the house.
It was followed by another and yet another.
So little were the inhabitants of Pretoria prepared for this that
everyone at first thought that the shells were being fired, for some
unaccountable reason, by the Boers, from the Pretoria Forts, until a
few of them burst so close to the houses that the fragments of rock
and shell fell like hail on the iron roofs. The other members of the
family followed Mrs. van Warmelo into the garden: and when it became
evident that the enemy was bombarding the Pretoria Forts, the two
young men immediately saddled their horses and rode out in the
direction in which they thought it most likely that some resistance
would be offered, after having advised their mother and sister to flee
to some place of refuge in the centre of the town.
There was no doubt that Harmony was directly in the line of fire, and
as the great shells went shrieking and hurtling through the air, the
very earth seemed to shake with the force of each explosion.
Mrs. van Warmelo hastily packed a few valuables into a hand-bag, and
fled into town with her daughter, leaving their dinner standing almost
untouched on the table. On their way to town, they found many
terrified women and children huddled under bridges for safety.
The bombardment continued all the afternoon, and ceased only when
darkness fell.
That night, when the van Warmelos returned to their deserted home,
they found the house still standing and no trace of the bombardment
except pieces of shell lying in the garden.
They were much surprised a few hours later, by the return of their two
warriors, weary and desperate after a hopeless attempt to keep back
the English with a handful of burghers, and the news they brought was
to the effect that Pretoria was to be surrendered to the enemy the
next morning. Once more they expressed their determination to escape
to the Boer lines, wherever they might be.
Only a few hours' rest for them that night and then they rode away at
dawn, in the Middelburg direction, on that dark and dreadful June 5th.
It was Fritz's twenty-second birthday on that cruel mid-winter's morn,
and when Hansie saw him again he was a man of twenty-six, with the
experiences and suffering of a lifetime resting on his shoulders.
The fate of the two young men remained a mystery to their dear ones
for many months of agonising suspense, and they pass out of these
pages for a time while we turn our attention to the relation of events
within the capital.
CHAPTER II
HOW THE MINES WERE SAVED
Before we begin relating the events with which this book is actually
concerned, and which took place, as we have said in the previous
chapter, exclusively in and around the capital, I must ask my reader
to turn his attention for a few moments to that great mining centre,
Johannesburg, "The Golden City" of South Africa.
If it was hated by the Boers before the war as the cause of all the
unrest in their beloved country, the unwelcome revolution in the calm
simplicity of their hitherto peaceful life, it is not to be wondered
at that their hatred and resentment had been intensified by the way in
which the war was brought about.
This feeling had risen to its height of concentrated fury when it
became known to the burghers that the sweeping advance of the British
forces in overwhelming numbers would soon make it possible for the
English to take full possession of those coveted mines.
At the time of the Republican successes there had been no suggestion
that it would be politic to destroy the mines, but as reverses became
more frequent, and it became evident beyond a doubt that the British
troops were about to cross the Vaal, a strong section of the
Government, supported by popular feeling, openly advocated the
destruction of the mines as well as the town of Johannesburg. The
precedent quoted for such a course was the burning of Moscow by the
Russians, in order to retard the victorious advance of Napoleon.
Very soon it became apparent that the members of the Government who
were advocating this policy were gaining the upper hand, as
instructions were actually given to certain officials of the Mines
Department to make the necessary arrangements for blowing up the
mines. Another section of the Government, among whom were General
Louis Botha and Dr. F.E.T. Krause, strenuously opposed the carrying
out of this policy.
This section eventually gained the upper hand at the time when
Commandant Schutte was compelled to relinquish the position of Special
Commandant for the Rand, and Dr. Krause was appointed in his stead,
although the circumstances leading to this change had at first in some
measure strengthened those who advocated destroying the mines. The
change was brought about in consequence of the terrible explosion at
Begbie's Engineering Works, which had been converted into a bomb
factory by the Government, and where several persons were killed and
many injured.
The cause of this explosion after investigation was alleged to have
been the work of British spies, and it was only natural that those
persons advocating the destruction of the mines should avail
themselves of this circumstance to further their scheme, but the bold
and determined opposition of Dr. Krause, supported as he was by the
mines police, a special body of men organised for the purpose of
protecting the mines, had the effect of inducing the "Destroyers" to
mature their scheme in secret.
The probable fate of the mines was openly and freely discussed in the
capital, and I have a faint recollection of a debating society having
taken for its subject, at this time, the question, "Would the result
of blowing up the mines be beneficial or detrimental to the Boer
cause?" Many were the pros and cons, and what conclusion was arrived
at I do not know.
At Harmony, mother and daughter followed the subject with the keenest
interest and anxiety, realising the important effect which the
destruction of the mines would have on the later development of the
war.
There were several weighty considerations which the "Destroyers," in
their thirst for revenge, seemed to have overlooked entirely.
In the first place, the blowing up of the mines would have failed in
its object of punishing the mining magnates against whom the
resentment of the Republicans was specially directed, and the chief
sufferers would be innocent shareholders in every part of the world,
members of the middle-classes who had invested their little all in the
fabulously rich gold mines of the Rand. Another very important
consideration which was discussed by the more thoughtful section of
the community was the probable destruction of the farms by the British
forces by way of retaliation for the fate of the mines. Could the
burghers have foreseen that the entire country would be laid waste in
any case as the war proceeded, nothing could have saved the mines. But
the devastation of Boer homesteads was not to begin until a much later
period, and to this fact the "Destroyers" no doubt owed the
frustration of their schemes.
I have to thank friends who were principally concerned in the matter
for the following account of how the mines were saved and for the
interesting description of the surrender of the Golden City, appearing
in Chapter III.
* * * * *
At this time the British troops were advancing rapidly. The Boers were
panic-stricken, and had it not been for the determined efforts of the
administration in Johannesburg, chaos would have resulted.
About ten days before the surrender of the town, the scheme of the
"Destroyers" was unwittingly disclosed through the foolishness of the
man who had been apparently chosen to carry it out. Judge Kock, who
was a friend of Dr. Krause's, came over to Johannesburg for the
purpose of making a last and determined effort to destroy the mines.
Being a great friend of the Krauses, he was invited to stay at their
house. In a burst of confidence he produced a letter signed by a very
high-placed official of the Executive Council, whereby he was
empowered, in indefinite terms, to call for the co-operation of any
military official whom he pleased. He showed Dr. Krause this letter
and requested him to instruct the mine police and certain other mine
officials to assist him. He was met with a blank refusal, and a threat
that if he persisted in this undertaking he would be arrested. Judge
Kock, or, as he then styled himself, "General" Kock, had gathered
together a cosmopolitan force of about 100 men.
About this time events were rapidly changing. The determined advance
of the British forces and the panic-stricken retreat of the Boers had
the effect of encouraging "General" Kock and his men. Dr. Krause's
hands were full in attending to the military necessities of the
situation. Urgent messages from Botha and the President were hourly
passing over the wires. General French, who was advancing on
Johannesburg from the east, had pressed forward to such an extent that
the Boers retreating from Vereeniging were practically hemmed in by
the British columns.
Commandant Krause on the Sunday afternoon hastily gathered as many
fighting men as he could muster, and with them occupied the hills
surrounding Van Wyk's Rust, in order to check the advance of French
and give the Boers an opportunity of retreating safely. On the Monday,
while fighting was going on, he was obliged to leave his men--who by
that time had been reinforced by the retreating Boers--for
Johannesburg, on receiving an urgent message that chaos was reigning
in town, and that the goods sheds at the station, where Government
provisions and food-stuffs were stored, were being looted. On his
return order was speedily restored.
Tuesday, May 29th, was the eventful day in the history of the saving
of the mines, as on this date Dr. Krause personally arrested "General"
Kock and dispersed his band of followers. It happened in this way.
During the progress of the war the Government had been working some of
the mines, and, at the time of the rapid advance of the British from
Bloemfontein, instructions were given that all the gold should be
conveyed to Pretoria. The week before the surrender of Johannesburg,
Dr. Krause had given the necessary instructions for doing this, and
had received a report that all gold had been transported. Now, it
appears that Kock had taken advantage of the Commandant's absence from
Johannesburg to further his scheme of destruction, and the first mine
he went to with that purpose in view was the Robinson. On arriving
there he accidentally discovered that about 120,000 ounces of gold,
valued at about £400,000, were still stored on the mine. He was
evidently so perturbed about this that he momentarily forgot his
purpose, and galloped post-haste with the greater number of his men to
the Commandant's office. His men were drawn up outside; he dismounted
and found Dr. Krause in consultation with Commandant L.E. van
Diggelen, the energetic officer in command of the Mines Police. Kock
adopted a threatening and bullying attitude, and demanded the reason
why so much gold had been left on the mine, and where the treachery
lay. During the course of his angry outburst he disclosed the fact
that he had proceeded to the mine for the purpose of destroying it,
and had discovered the presence of the gold. It may be mentioned here
that Dr. Krause, in the course of the morning, had been in telegraphic
communication with General Botha, who was then in the vicinity of
Eagles' Nest, and had informed him that it would probably be necessary
to take violent measures against Kock, which might lead to bloodshed.
General Botha's reply was: "I hold you responsible for the safety of
the mines and the town of Johannesburg, and I leave everything in your
hands."
When, therefore, "General" Kock disclosed his purpose, Dr. Krause
jumped up, closed the door, confronted him, and, before he could
realise his position, had him under arrest, calling upon van Diggelen
to disarm him. Kock made an attempt to escape, but he was powerless in
the hands of two determined men. Some time elapsed before he realised
the hopelessness of the situation, as his last attempt to induce
Commandant van Diggelen to deliver a note to his men outside was met
with a blank refusal. The next thing to be done was to get rid of
these men, who evidently had been instructed by their "General" not to
leave without him, he probably fearing that something unforeseen might
happen to him. How now to get rid of these men? The following ruse was
adopted: Dr. Krause took up some telegrams, and, waving these in the
air, rushed out to where they were stationed, demanding to know who
the officer in charge was. He was met by a confusion of voices calling
out, "Where is our General?" "Oh!" was the reply, "your General is
still in my office, consulting on military matters, and I have just
received information that the British are advancing on the town from
the direction of the Gueldenhuis. Your General commands you to proceed
in that direction to reinforce the Boers, who are trying to stop the
advance. We will follow immediately with the rest of the men. Now! who
is in command?" "I am, sir--Captain McCullum." "Now, Captain," the
Doctor said, "ride for your life and do your duty."
The ruse was successful, and in a few minutes not a single man of the
band was in sight. The next question was, what was to be done with
Kock. The following plan was adopted: The arrest took place shortly
before the luncheon hour, and as the offices were generally closed
from one till two, Kock was detained in the Commandant's office until
one. All officials were then ordered to leave. Van Diggelen ordered
his dog-cart to be brought round, Kock was told to step in, and was
quietly driven to the fort, where he was detained by the officer in
charge.
During the afternoon General Botha and his staff passed through
Johannesburg, and came to see Dr. Krause, who reported what had
happened. General Botha approved of and confirmed his action in every
respect. The conference between the two officers did not last long,
and resulted in Dr. Krause being definitely instructed to remain in
Johannesburg in order to protect the town and its inhabitants, and to
see that all fighting burghers immediately left for their respective
commandos. The same evening Kock was sent to Pretoria, escorted by
several police, and handed over to the authorities there.
The great danger which had threatened the safety of the mines was in
this way averted.
Before closing this chapter, mention should be made of the excellent
work done by the Mines Police in the protection of the mines, and in
this connection especially to name Commandant L.E. van Diggelen and
Lt. W. Vogts, the energetic Secretary of the Force.
The gold found on the Robinson Mine was on the same Tuesday sent by
Dr. Krause to Pretoria in charge of Captain Arendt Burkhardt and
several members of the Field Police, and was duly delivered by them to
the authorities there.
* * * * *
_Note._--The subsequent career of Kock was an eventful one. He lost
his father, J.H. Kock, at the battle of Elandslaagte. This and other
matters so preyed upon his mind that eventually he became subject to
delusions, and is at present confined in the lunatic asylum at
Pretoria.
CHAPTER III
THE SURRENDER OF THE GOLDEN CITY
In attempting to chronicle the events which surround the surrender of
Johannesburg, the mind involuntarily pauses, and a picture, which
reminds one of the fairy-tales of one's childhood, is called up in
imagination.
In 1886 Johannesburg could only boast of a few tin shanties--the
beginnings of a mining camp; fourteen years later the British troops
marched through the streets of a modern city. And what has been the
history of these fourteen years?
In the history of the older European nations development and progress
are slow, and social and economic cause and effect can be traced with
almost scientific accuracy. In Johannesburg, however, ordinary human
agencies do not seem to have been at work. The man who has the leisure
at his disposal to ascertain the true facts of that period before the
war, would present to the world a history so interesting and
fascinating that he would be accused of having indulged in fiction in
his narrative of events. It would be out of place in this book,
however, to enter into these historical events, and we must confine
ourselves to the details of the period with which this story deals.
Ever since the beginning of the war it was the intention of the
Republican Government to defend both Pretoria and Johannesburg, and
had the outbreak of the war not been precipitated, and the necessary
cannon ordered from France arrived in time, this would have been done.
Even after the fall of Bloemfontein the idea was not entirely
abandoned, and Commandant Krause was instructed to provision the
Johannesburg Fort and make other necessary preparations. A promise was
made that several cannon would be left at Johannesburg by the Boers
during their retreat. It was hoped that such defence would retard the
British advance and enable the Boers to recover from the panic which
had seized them ever since the surrender of Cronjé at Paardeberg.
When, however, General Botha on Tuesday, May 29th, 1900, passed
through Johannesburg, Commandant Krause was ordered to abandon the
defence of the town, to distribute all provisions collected amongst
the families of the men on commando, and to get rid of all men capable
of fighting. These orders were promptly carried out.
On the following day, Wednesday, May 30th, between ten and eleven in
the morning, Major Francis Davis appeared with a flag of truce and
requested to see Dr. Krause.
At the time the Commandant was at the fort attending to General
Grobelaar and about 500 men who were retreating in the direction of
Pretoria. During the day bodies of armed burghers were continually
passing through the town.
On arrival at his office Dr. Krause found Major Davis in the company
of two old Johannesburg residents. The latter were dressed in mufti.
Both these men had taken an active part in the agitation which
preceded the war.
Major Davis in soldierly manner addressed Dr. Krause by saying that he
was commanded by Lord Roberts to demand the immediate and
unconditional surrender of the town, in the name of Her Majesty Queen
Victoria.
Dr. Krause's reply was very short: "No, sir, not immediately and not
unconditionally."
Major Davis thereupon said that Lord Roberts had also expressed a
desire that the Commandant should grant him an interview, at which the
matter could be discussed. Dr. Krause assented to this proposition.
What the Boers wanted was delay--and if Commandant Krause could delay
the forward advance of the British troops a great advantage would be
gained.
Lord Roberts was encamped just above the Victoria Lake, close to
Germiston. On arrival at the camp Dr. Krause was met by Lord Roberts
on the verandah of the house occupied by him and his staff.
A private interview then took place between the two officers, at which
the terms of surrender of Johannesburg were agreed upon, and which
will be found in the letter set out hereunder.
The chief reason for an armistice advanced by the Boer Commandant was
that if the British were at once to enter the town, street-fighting
would undoubtedly take place, as the many armed burghers passing
through the town would only obey the orders of their own respective
Commandants and Field-cornets. Such street-fighting would be a serious
menace to the women and children and to the other peaceful citizens of
the town. Lord Roberts agreed to this, adding that he had once, in
Afghanistan, experienced street-fighting and would not like to see it
again.
Another incident of this interview is worth recording, viz. the
protest made by Dr. Krause at the presence of the two civilians who
accompanied Major Davis. Lord Roberts asked for the reason of this
protest, and was informed that, according to the view of the people in
Johannesburg, these men, through the part they played in the
mendacious political agitation which was carried on prior to the war,
were partly responsible for the war, and further that he (Dr. Krause)
had in his possession a warrant for the arrest of one of these men for
high treason, issued prior to the commencement of hostilities, and
consequently their presence in the town was looked upon with a great
deal of disfavour and resentment.
Lord Roberts expressed his regret, and said that these men had
accompanied his officer only because he was told that they would be
excellent guides, knowing the locality and the officials.
The terms of surrender were agreed to, including an armistice of
twenty-four hours. This delay undoubtedly helped to save the
Republican forces from utter destruction and certainly enabled General
Botha and the other Boer officers to retreat with their men beyond
Pretoria and to collect their scattered forces.
Dr. Krause returned to Johannesburg after this interview and
immediately set about making the necessary arrangements to carry out
his part of the bargain. A Proclamation was issued, calling upon all
armed burghers and other capable men to leave the town; all officials
were ordered to be in readiness the next day at the respective
offices, for the purpose of handing over their administration to their
successors.
Early the next morning Mr. William Shawe, the Deputy Sheriff, was
dispatched to Lord Roberts, with a formal letter, confirming the terms
of surrender agreed to at the above interview. This historical
document is, I believe, here printed for the first time and reads as
follows:
"JOHANNESBURG,
"_May 30th, 1900._
"Lord Roberts,
"Commander-in-Chief of Her
"Majesty's troops in South Africa.
"YOUR LORDSHIP,
"Referring to the verbal interview I had with Your Lordship this
morning, with reference to the surrender of the town,
Johannesburg, I now wish to confirm the following in writing:
"(a) That all officials and other Government employees will be
treated with the necessary respect and consideration. On their
behalf I can give Your Lordship the assurance, that until the
surrender is complete, everything will be done by them to
facilitate Your Lordship's work, in so far as their honour
allows.
"(b) With reference to the protection of women and children
(including the women and children of Burghers on
Commando),--that these persons will not be molested by the
troops,--Your Lordship having already given the necessary
instructions in this connection.
"(c) That property will be protected, also forage, except in so
far as military requirements necessitate it.
"(d) That as regards the 13,000 Kaffirs still on the mines, the
necessary precautions will be taken by Your Lordship:--in this
respect the Special Mine Police corps, till now under my
command, will render Your Lordship all assistance.
"(e) Enclosed I send Your Lordship a copy of a notice
distributed by me, which speaks for itself, and from which Your
Lordship will learn that all fighting and armed burghers have
been ordered to leave the town at once.
"(f) It grieves me to have to inform Your Lordship, that
notwithstanding our arrangement, that no armed men would enter
the town till to-morrow at 10 o'clock, several armed persons
entered the town (evidently without Your Lordship's knowledge,
and contrary to instructions), and several of whom are under
arrest; one who attempted to disarm a burgher was wounded, and
is at present in the hospital here.
"Finally, I must request Your Lordship not to enter the town
with too great a force (for reasons already communicated to Your
Lordship). I shall send some one who will conduct Your Lordship
personally (or the officer in command) to the Government offices
to there carry out and complete the necessary formalities of
handing over the town. All chief and other officials have been
notified by me of this arrangement, and they have been ordered
to hold themselves in readiness to hand over their offices to
the persons appointed thereto.
"I have the honour to be,
"Respectfully yours,
"(Signed) F.E.T. KRAUSE.
"Acting Special Commandant."
On the morning of May 31st, 1900, the sun rose in his bright winter
splendour--the sky was blue, and not a cloud appeared upon the
horizon. Mother Nature seemed to emphasise the darkness and bitterness
in the hearts of the staunch and free Republicans by her dazzling
brightness. The new era had dawned, heralding the victory of the
invading forces and giving practical proof of the old adage, "Might is
right."
At about 10 o'clock Commandant Krause received a message from Lord
Roberts announcing his presence on the outskirts of the town (at
Denver) and expressing a desire that the Commandant should personally
come and meet and conduct him to the Government offices, there to hand
over the "keys" of the city. This request was complied with. The
British were then seen entering the town, headed by Lord Roberts, Lord
Kitchener, and Commandant Krause. On arrival at the Government offices
the different officials were presented to Lord Roberts, who requested
them to remain in office until they were relieved of their duties by
an English officer.
The surrender of the Golden City was an accomplished fact!
[Illustration: THE SURRENDER OF THE GOLDEN CITY]
In conclusion, and as a contrast to this terrible period for the
Republicans, I may here be permitted to publish a letter written by
Lord Roberts to Dr. Krause, which will show in what manner the Golden
City was previously administrated and afterwards handed over to the
British troops on May 31st, 1900.
"ARMY HEAD-QUARTERS,
"JOHANNESBURG,
"_June 2nd, 1900._
"DEAR DR. KRAUSE,
"I desire to express to you how fully I appreciate the valuable
assistance you have afforded me in connection with the entry
into this town of the force under my command.
"I recognise that you have had DIFFICULTIES OF NO ORDINARY
NATURE TO CONTEND WITH OF LATE, and any weakness in the
administration of the town and suburbs at such a juncture would
doubtless have been taken full advantage of by the disorderly
element which necessarily exists in an important mining
community. THANKS TO YOUR ENERGY AND VIGILANCE, ORDER AND
TRANQUILLITY HAVE BEEN PRESERVED, and I congratulate you
heartily on the result of your labours.
"Permit me also to tender to you my personal thanks for the
great courtesy you have shown me since I first had the pleasure
of meeting you.
"Believe me to be,
"Yours truly,
"ROBERTS, F.M."
CHAPTER IV
MARTIAL LAW UNDER THE ENEMY
After her brothers' departure, described in Chapter I, Hansie fastened
her "Vierkleur," a broad band of the Transvaal colours, round her hat,
and announced her intention of going into town to see the British
troops come in.
Her mother thought it a most unseemly proceeding, and declined to
accompany her wilful daughter, but the latter did not wish to miss
what she knew would become an historical event of great importance,
and rode away on her bicycle, accompanied by her faithful retriever,
Carlo.
The thought of the conspicuous band of ribbon round her hat, in green,
red, white, and blue, gave her a certain feeling of comfort and
satisfaction.
At least none of the friends she might chance to meet that day could
suspect her of being in town to _welcome_ the enemy.
The air was charged with the electricity of an excitement so tense, so
suppressed, that it struck her like some living force as she rode
through the thronged, though silent streets.
In the heart of the town, as she neared Government Square, a change
was noticeable--a change that she could not define until it was borne
in upon her that it originated in the attitude of the black and
coloured part of the community.
They had come out in their thousands--the streets literally seethed
with them, the remarkable part of this being that they were all on the
pavements, while their "white brothers" walked in the middle of the
road.
For the sake of the uninitiated I must explain that under the Boer
regime no black or coloured person was allowed on the pavements, nor
to be out at night, nor to walk about without a registered pass. There
was no "black peril" then.
This noisy, unlawful demonstration was an expression of joy on their
part at the prospect of that day being set free from Boer
restrictions, a short-lived joy, however, for they became so lawless
and overbearing that it was found necessary, within a very few days,
to re-enforce the Boer laws and regulations.
* * * * *
In perfect order, but weary unto death, the British troops marched in.
Thousands and thousands of soldiers in khaki, travel-stained,
footsore, and famished, sank to the ground, at a given command, in the
open square facing Government Buildings.
Some of them tried to eat of the rations they had with them, others,
too exhausted to eat, fell into a deep sleep almost at once, and one
old warrior, looking up into the face of the girl standing above him,
said, in a broken voice, "Thank God, the war is over."
Hansie bent towards him and answered, in a voice vibrating with
passionate feeling, "Tommy Atkins, _the war has just begun_."
He looked at her in puzzled surprise, and sighing heavily, closed his
eyes.
Ah, unknown soldier, did you in after years, I wonder, remember the
prophetic words spoken by the lips of a girl that day?
At three o'clock that afternoon the Union Jack was hoisted on
Government Buildings!
Those of my readers whose love of home, kindred, traditions,
ideals--patriotism--belong to other countries can draw a mental
picture of what a similar experience would mean to them. One day to be
full of hope that a beloved country and independence would be restored
to its people, the next with those hopes laid low in the dust,
shattered, destroyed for ever, by the sight of a small, unfamiliar
flag standing out against the blue sky.
In time of great shock or crisis, merciful Providence numbs our
keenest sensibilities and the brain acts and thinks mechanically. The
inevitable comes, however, and we wonder at finding ourselves still
breathing, after passing through that fire of mental agony.
Our young patriot's heart was torn and bleeding, but her sufferings
then were as nothing compared to those she endured in later months and
years, when the incidents of that winter's day would pass in review
across her brain, haunting her sleeping and waking thoughts like some
hideous nightmare.
It is not for me to describe the scene: the cheering of the multitude,
the parade of haggard troops--the soul-sickening display of imperial
patriotism.
As if ashamed of having witnessed it, the sun, suddenly grown old and
grey, hid himself behind a passing cloud, and in the shadows which
enveloped her the girl seemed to feel the hand of Nature, groping for
hers, to convey its silent message of sympathy.
The crowds dispersed and the troops withdrew to the outskirts of the
town to pitch their tents for the night.
When Hansie arrived at Harmony she found all the open space around it
occupied by troops, and camps erected at the very gates, while, all
along the roads and railway lines, fires were burning and soldiers
were engaged in tending their horses and preparing their rations.
The air was so heavy with smoke and dust that it seemed as if a dense
fog were resting on the town, but an order and discipline prevailed
which could not be surpassed.
Mrs. van Warmelo was standing at the gate with a loaded revolver in
her hands, keeping the entire British army at bay with a pair of
blazing eyes.
She had already spoken to the officer in command, who, on hearing that
two unprotected ladies were living alone on the property, had
immediately issued orders that no man was to enter Harmony on any
pretext whatever. Somewhat reassured, mother and daughter retired into
their stronghold, barricading doors and windows and ordering Carlo,
the good watch-dog, to preserve an extra vigilance that night.
Brave old Carlo! from that moment he seemed to understand that his
duty was to protect his beloved mistresses from their mortal foe, and
nothing could equal his dislike and distrust of anything connected
with the unwelcome visitors around his hitherto peaceful abode. For a
long time, he valiantly withstood temptation in the form of titbits
offered him by soldiers, not at any time responding to the many
advances made by them, and my reader will agree with me, as this story
unfolds itself, that no dog could have developed more useful
qualities.
The first few weeks after the occupation of Pretoria were spent in
settling down and finding accommodation for the thousands of British
officers and men, and it soon became evident to the inhabitants of
Harmony that Sunnyside had been chosen as a suitable suburb for the
more important members of the military forces.
To give the reader some idea of how Harmony was hemmed in by troops on
every side, I have drawn the annexed chart, and, though some
alterations were made as the months went by, this was practically the
position of our heroines during the greater part of the war.
On the eastern side were encamped the Military Mounted Police; on the
west, on the banks of the Aapies River and adjoining the Berea Park,
lay Kitchener's bodyguard; on the south were established the
Montmorency Scouts; and on the north, commanding the principal
entrance to Harmony, the Provost-Marshal, Major Poore, had taken up
his abode in the comfortable residence of the ex-Mayor of Pretoria,
Sir Johannes van Boeschoten, who was knighted on the occasion of the
recent visit to South Africa of the Duke of Connaught.
Opposite the Provost-Marshal, in a house belonging to Mr. B.T. Bourke,
the War Office, as we called it, was established; and still a little
farther north, in the British Agency, vacated by Sir Conyngham and
Lady Lily Greene when martial law was proclaimed, Lord Roberts and
his staff were installed, until better quarters could be found for
them. The Military Governor, General Sir John Maxwell, then took
possession of the British Agency and remained there, as far as I know,
until the end of the war.
[Illustration: (map of Harmony and neighbourhood.)]
During the first half-year after the British entry into Pretoria
Harmony's front gate was blocked by the tent of the military post
office, the ropes of which had been fastened to the posts of the gate.
Although the inhabitants of Harmony found it inconvenient to squeeze
through the small opening at the side of the gate, Mrs. van Warmelo
made no objection to the arrangement, because it safeguarded the
property to some extent from possible intruders.
Other houses in the immediate neighbourhood of Harmony were occupied
at different times by Lord Kitchener of Khartoum, the Duke of
Westminster, and many other distinguished personages, with their
staffs. From this it will readily be understood that in the whole of
Pretoria no spot could have been more completely hemmed in by the
vigilant military than Harmony.
How this vigilance was evaded by two Boer women, and how Harmony
became the centre of Boer espionage as time went on, will be the theme
of this story; but I wish my reader clearly to understand that from
beginning to end there was no treachery, no broken promises of peace
and good behaviour.
It was simply taken for granted that the two women in question were
hopelessly cut off from all communication with their friends in the
field, and utterly helpless and incapable of assisting their
fellow-countrymen.
There were no conditions attached to the privilege of remaining
undisturbed in their home, and, though it was well known that their
menfolk were among the fighting burghers and that they themselves
entertained the strongest feelings of antagonism towards the British,
they were quietly left in peace.
Whether the fact that Mrs. van Warmelo's elder daughter was married to
Mr. Henry Cloete, of Alphen, Wynberg, had anything to do with this
unexpected and altogether undeserved leniency, I do not know. It
certainly could not be put down to the credit of our heroines that Mr.
Cloete had at one time been Acting British Agent at Pretoria, nor that
he had shown the British Government such services as earned for him
the distinction of having the Order of Companion of St. Michael and
St. George conferred upon him.
All I can say is that if the van Warmelos owed their security to these
facts, we can only look upon that as one of the fortunate
circumstances of war over which we had no control. Other Boer
residents in Pretoria fared less fortunately.
A great many "undesirable" families were put over the border at once;
and of the remaining burghers, some took the oath of allegiance for
purposes of their own, on which I am not in a position to pass
judgment, others, the greater majority, took the oath of neutrality,
and a few, in some mysterious way or other, avoided both these oaths,
and remained in the capital, without pass, without permit, until time
and occasion presented themselves for a sudden and unaccountable
disappearance. In another chapter I shall endeavour to describe the
dangers and difficulties under which one of these men escaped from
British martial law to the free life of the Boer commandos.
Although houses were "commandeered" right and left, and officers
quartered on private families, as is the custom in every
well-conducted war, Harmony was left in peace, only one mild attempt
being made a few days after the occupation of Pretoria, by the officer
in command of the Montmorency Scouts, to obtain entrance for himself
and fellow officers at Harmony's inhospitable door.
"Only three officers," he said--"no men; and we shall give no
trouble."
It was Hansie's duty to refuse, and refuse she did, firmly, patiently,
without betraying her inmost fear that he could, and probably
would--like the American darkie preacher, who announced to his flock
that a certain meeting would take place "on Friday next, de Lord
willin', an' if not, den on Sat'dy, whedder or no"--take possession of
her home, "whedder or no" she gave her consent.
It is still a source of surprise that he did not, that, instead, he
descended to argument, to beseechings.
"Our tents are bitterly cold at night," he said at last. "Let us at
least sleep in the house."
"My brothers in the field have no tents," Hansie answered, "they sleep
under the open sky. Do you think that we are going to allow British
officers to sleep in their beds? Allow me to tell you that we are
red-hot Republicans."
He departed, and, though Mrs. van Warmelo and Hansie lived in some
trepidation for the next few days, no second attempt was made to
commandeer Harmony.
The incident of the large number of side-saddles found in the British
camp at Dundee had given Hansie food for much thought, and had caused
her to plan her own future line of action long before the British
officers entered Pretoria.
"They will want to enjoy themselves with our girls," she told her
mother.
"They will be found at tennis-parties, at social evenings, and at
concerts. They will want us to go out riding and driving with them,
but, mother, I vow I shall never be seen with a khaki officer as long
as our men are in the field." And, as far as she was able, she kept
her word until the war was over.
This was not always easy, for many temptations were brought in her
way, and she soon found it necessary to give up riding and tennis
altogether in order to keep to her resolution.
CHAPTER V
ONLY A BIT OF RIBBON GAY!
The conspicuously bright hues of the "Vierkleur" round Hansie's hat
attracted the attention of the new-comers in Pretoria, and she was
often asked what they represented. In course of time other girls
donned their colours, flaunting them in the face of the enemy on every
possible occasion.
Now perhaps this was indiscreet, but, after all, what harm could it
do?
It was a certain comfort to them, and there could be no objection to
their taking a public stand for their own, under British martial law.
At least, _we_ thought so. Not so the enemy!
About three weeks after the British entry into the capital, the van
Warmelos were told that orders had been issued that no Transvaal
burgher in Pretoria would in future be permitted to wear the
"Vierkleur."
"Impossible! I do not believe it," Hansie exclaimed.
"What are you going to do?" her mother inquired.
"Go out as usual with my 'Vierkleur' on, and see what happens," she
said.
She went out and nothing happened, so she went out again next day, and
the next.
In the meantime she heard that dozens of women and girls had been
stopped in the streets and marched off to the various Charge Offices,
where their colours were forcibly removed and detained as contraband
articles of war.
Her mother warned her not to run the risk of losing her precious
ribbon, and advised her to put it away, but Hansie was determined to
wear it until _compelled_ to submit. For a few days she rode about as
usual, accompanied by Carlo, without being molested in any way, and
she was just beginning to feel reassured, when, one day, a petty
officer rode up to her in the street and ordered her to take off her
Transvaal colours. She was on her way to Consul Cinatti's house, and
was walking, for the Portuguese Consulate was quite close to Harmony.
With the horse prancing before her, she could not very well proceed on
her way. She stopped and looked up at the soldier. She did not like
his face at all, and changed her mind about what she meant to say to
him.
"Why don't you do as I tell you? Take off that ribbon at once," he
commanded.
"Why don't you go and conquer the Transvaal?" she asked.
"I have my orders," he said, with a black look, "and if you don't
remove those colours from your hat immediately, I shall send some one
to take them off by force."
"Take the Transvaal first," she said persuasively, "then you will be
quite welcome to my bit of ribbon."
He wheeled round suddenly and tore off to the Sunnyside Charge Office,
lashing his poor horse savagely and looking round at her with a
watchful eye every few yards.
Hansie walked faster, and had nearly reached the side gate of the
Consulate, when she saw him returning with two other mounted soldiers.
She dived through the gate, and running through the garden,
unceremoniously entered the house at a side door.
"Oh, Celeste!" she said to the astonished Miss Cinatti, "there are
three men after me!"
"Three men after you! What do you mean?"
"They want my precious 'Vierkleur.' What shall I do?"
"Take it off!"
"Never!"
Here they were joined by Mr. Cinatti, who waved his arms and stamped
his feet when he heard the story, and got so excited and indignant
that he spluttered even more than usual in his broken English.
"What meant it all? What impudent impertinence was dis? It was nothing
but one big mean trick, a prying trap," etc., etc.
When the storm was over (and his storms were usually of brief
duration) he asked Hansie, with a gesture of comical despair:
"What are we going to do now?"
"I don't know."
"Will you take off dat ribbon?"
"I will not."
Hugely delighted, he clasped his hands in well-assumed agony of mind.
"Stay here and go home in de dark?"
"No," Hansie laughed.
"I'll tell you. Celeste will give you anudder ribbon to put over dat
one."
"Thank you very much," Hansie said. "Yes, that is a good idea."
Miss Cinatti fastened a broad white ribbon over the "Vierkleur," and
Hansie bade her an affectionate farewell. The Consul escorted her to
the gate, where they found one of the mounted soldiers guarding the
entrance, while the second had been stationed at the side gate into
which Hansie had been seen to disappear. The man who had addressed her
first was nowhere to be seen. Mr. Cinatti glared at the soldier, who
backed away from the entrance, and allowed the girl to pass. He did
not look triumphant--on the contrary he saluted respectfully; but the
other Tommy at the side gate laughed when he saw the white ribbon on
her hat, and I am afraid that Hansie felt very much inclined to say,
"I've got my 'Vierkleur' on still!" But she wisely refrained, walking
on stiffly without so much as a glance at the man. That night she
slowly and sadly took off her 'bit of ribbon gay,' replacing it by a
black band in token of mourning and bereavement.
There was too much at stake, and she felt it would be better to keep
the ribbon in safety at home than to run the risk of being deprived of
it by force.
A sympathetic friend afterwards painted two crossed flags, the flags
of the Transvaal and the Free State, on her band of black, and this
she wore unmolested until the end of the war.
CHAPTER VI
PASSES AND PERMITS
At this time the procuring of passes and permits became the order of
the day, and it is inconceivable the amount of red-tape that had to be
gone through in the process.
For women living alone and having no menfolk to send to the offices,
this was especially annoying.
Hours were spent in waiting, and applicants were frequently sent from
one official to another, and from one department to another, on
unimportant matters.
This brought Hansie into touch with the very men whose society she had
resolved to avoid.
It took her three or four hours to get a permit for her bicycle and as
many days to get permission to retain her Colt's pocket-pistol, for
the officers in charge of the rifle department refused to let her keep
it and she eventually decided to go straight to head-quarters, viz.
the Military Governor, General Maxwell.
Orders had very rightly been issued that all firearms should be
delivered to the military authorities, but in this case Mrs. van
Warmelo thought an exception should be made, because two unprotected
women, living in an isolated homestead, could hardly be considered
safe in times of such great danger unless sufficiently armed and able
to defend themselves.
Other matters, of minor importance, could be overlooked, but it was to
this question of retaining weapons that she and her daughter owed
their acquaintance with the charming and affable Military Governor.
The two women were received with great courtesy, and when they had
explained that they had a Mauser rifle in their possession, a
revolver, and a pistol, begging to be allowed to keep them for
self-defence, General Maxwell instantly granted them permits for the
revolver and pistol, but asked them to give up their rifle. He gave
them a written promise, signed by himself, that the rifle would be
returned to them after the war--which promise, I may add, was
faithfully kept. General Maxwell asked many questions about their
fighting relatives, and, when they were departing, said he hoped they
would come straight to him if at any time they got into trouble.
This kindness opened the way to many subsequent visits, and brought
about a friendly understanding between the officials in the Governor's
Department and Mrs. and Miss van Warmelo.
The latter, upon whom naturally devolved the task of procuring the
necessary passes and permits, was always well received, and never kept
waiting, although she made no secret of her feelings towards the
British, and frankly gave vent to her opinions on every subject
connected with the war. This state of affairs was brought about all
the more easily by the fact that General Maxwell and his A.D.C., Major
Hoskins, invited her opinions on every possible occasion.
Mutual respect, and a sincere desire to alleviate the suffering caused
by the war, formed the basis of the somewhat incongruous friendship
between the high British official and the Republican girl, especially
as time went on and the appalling problem of the concentration camps
presented itself. Then it was that General Maxwell, pacing up and down
in his office, his brow drawn with care, and every movement betraying
his distress, frankly discussed the situation with Hansie and invited
her confidence. As she had no secrets of importance at this time,
these interviews were marked by a spirit of mutual understanding, and
she learnt more and more to admire and respect the Governor for his
humanity and nobility of character; but the time was soon to come when
the demands of her land and people called her to more dangerous fields
of labour, and then it became difficult, well-nigh impossible, to meet
the searching eye of the Military Governor.
Her visits became less frequent, of her own free will, and in time
ceased altogether.
Soon after the rifle incident Hansie had to call on General Maxwell,
as Secretary of the Pretoria Ladies' Vocal Society, for a permit to
hold rehearsals. She found him alone and disengaged, for a wonder, and
so evidently pleased to see her again that she entered into
conversation with him unhesitatingly.
After she had explained the object of her visit and apologised for
troubling him about such a trifle, she told him that she had been
informed in other Departments that as there was no institution for
granting permits to hold rehearsals, she would have to get a special
permit from the Military Governor.
"Why," he exclaimed in surprise, "can you not rehearse without a
permit?"
"No," Hansie answered laughingly. "Do you not know that two or three
may not gather together except in the name of the Governor under the
new regulations and since the execution of Cordua? Why, we may be
conspiring against your life instead of rehearsing our songs, and at
the present moment we can hardly put our noses out-of-doors without
being asked whether we have permits for them."
"You are right," he answered; "I did not think of this. Well, you may
have your permit on condition that you promise to talk no politics and
to be in your own homes before 7 p.m."
Hansie gave the promise on behalf of the vocal society, and yet
another war-permit was added to her curious collection! With all the
friendliness existing between the Governor and herself, I do not for a
moment think that they ever trusted one another completely. Were they
not both good patriots? Hansie knew by the questions he asked her that
he was trying to extract information from her, and the Governor only
told her as much as he thought she could use to his own advantage.
On this particular occasion, when he parted from her, he asked in a
fatherly, I-take-such-an-interest-in-you way whether she ever heard
from her brothers.
"No," she exclaimed in innocent surprise. "How can I?" (and at the
time she spoke truth). Whereupon he sympathetically murmured something
about "a very trying time for you."
Permits everywhere and for everything!
Men were stopped in the streets to show their residential passes,
private carriages were held up and the occupants requested to produce
their permits for vehicle and horses, and cyclists had to dismount a
dozen times a day at the sign of some khaki-clothed figure patrolling
the streets.
The first British officers to cross Harmony's threshold as visitors
and equals were a colonel and a young captain, who both came from
Wynberg with letters of introduction from Mrs. van Warmelo's daughter,
Mrs. Henry Cloete.
After the long months of irregular correspondence, always severely
censored, it was such a relief to get news direct that the bearers
were welcomed gratefully.
They called again, and the dignified presence of the Colonel soon
became a familiar sight at Harmony. With him it was quite possible to
converse, for he avoided every painful topic with the utmost tact and
good-breeding, but the Captain was a veritable firebrand, and many
were the heated arguments carried on during his visits.
As the weary, weary months dragged on, and the most sanguine could not
see the end of the terrible war, it seemed as if feeling grew stronger
and the power of endurance lessened.
Even the occasional visits of the British officers became trying to
the van Warmelos, and one day her mother asked Hansie to request the
Captain not to come again, valiantly retreating to the garden when
next he called, and leaving her daughter to fight it out with him
alone.
"I am very sorry," he said, "but what have _I_ done?"
"Nothing," Hansie answered, "but you see it is against our principles,
and we would like you to wait until the war is over----" The hateful
task was over, and the Captain took his departure, not to return
again.
Hansie refused obstinately to go over the same ground with the
Colonel. He came so seldom, and he was such a kind and courteous old
gentleman, that it seemed unnecessary to put an end to his visits, and
in time his own good feeling told him to discontinue them.
It was in the summer of 1901, when the days at Harmony were spent in
the fruit-laden garden and great jars of apples, pears, peaches, and
figs were being canned and preserved for winter use, that thoughts
strayed most lovingly and persistently to the two hungry brothers in
the field.
"Where are they, I wonder?" was a frequent exclamation. "Did they ever
reach the Boer commandos, and oh, when shall we hear from them?"
Great were the rejoicings when Dr. Mulder, who was on his way to
Holland, and had got permission from the British to pass through
Pretoria from the Boer lines, arrived at Harmony with the news that he
had seen the two van Warmelos in the English camp at Nooitgedacht,
after its capture by the Boers under General Beyers. They were well
and in good spirits then, and the delight their mother and sister
experienced at seeing some one direct from the Boer lines can only be
appreciated by those who know what it means to a Boer to be a captive
under British martial law.
At this time Pretoria was almost completely surrounded by the Boers,
and every precaution was being taken against a possible attack. Deep
trenches were dug all round the town, electric wires put up, while the
hills bristled with cannon and searchlights played from the forts
incessantly at night.
The realities of war were forced upon one by the increased activity on
the Eastern Railway line to Delagoa Bay, plainly visible from the side
verandah at Harmony, and, daily, train loads passed of armed soldiers,
or Boer women and children being brought in from the devastated farms.
Armoured trains and Red Cross carriages steamed in and out, horses,
cattle, provision loads--everything that could remind one of the
fierce strife raging throughout the land.
At this time it became evident that a thief or thieves were helping
themselves at night to thoroughbred fowls and fruit at Harmony, and
Mrs. van Warmelo asked the sergeant-major of the Military Mounted
Police to consult with her about catching the miscreants.
She suspected Kaffirs--certainly not the troops encamped about the
place, for a more orderly set of soldiers it would have been hard to
find. Their behaviour was always so exemplary that they were now and
then rewarded with baskets of fruit and vegetables from Harmony's
overflowing abundance.
It was therefore perfectly natural that the sergeant-major should
hurry over to the house, indignant and sympathetic, to listen to Mrs.
van Warmelo's grievances and to lay plans for the capture of the
cunning thief.
That he came at dawn seemed evident, for though the police watched
every night, they never caught sight of him, and yet there were fowls
missing every morning. Things were beginning to look rather suspicious
when, in spite of the vigilant watch kept by the police, there were
only nineteen fowls left of the sixty. Mrs. van Warmelo made up her
mind to watch for herself.
Early next morning, when a fine white cock had disappeared, she set
out with one of the native servants, and, following the track made by
the white feathers the bird had lost in its struggles, she came upon
the thieves' den. An ideal spot in a little hollow by the riverside,
surrounded by trees and shrubs! A small fireplace, a few old sacks and
tins and a mass of feathers and bones told their own tale, and Mrs.
van Warmelo went home well satisfied.
The sergeant-major, when he heard her story, said he thought it would
be better to catch the thief red-handed in the fowl-run than to
surprise him in his den, and the police were set to watch again that
night.
In the morning two fine hens were missing! The remarks then made at
Harmony on the vigilance of British soldiers in general and Military
Mounted Police in particular were complimentary in the extreme.
Then Mrs. van Warmelo sent the boy to reconnoitre, and he soon came
running back in great excitement, with the news that the thief, a
young Kaffir, was sitting beside a fire, eating fowls.
Armed to the teeth, the police set forth to capture him, and soon
returned with the miscreant. Such a sight he was! Glistening with fat
and covered with feathers, and, as one of the soldiers remarked,
"with a corporation like the Lord Mayor." He was handcuffed and taken
to the police camp, while the men had their breakfast before escorting
him to the Charge Office.
Suddenly there was a fearful commotion.
The culprit had slipped off one of his handcuffs, crept through the
wire fence unobserved, and was flying like the wind through the garden
towards the river.
After him, in wild confusion, jumping over shrubs and furrows,
followed half a dozen soldiers, a couple of natives, Carlo, and I
don't know how many other dogs.
He was captured by the brave corporal as he was dashing up the bank on
the other side of the river, and brought back to the camp, with his
hands tied securely behind.
One month's imprisonment only and a change of diet were prescribed for
him at the Charge Office that day.
This incident, though exciting at the time, would not have been worth
recording here were it not for its connection with what happened
afterwards.
Whatever suspicions the military may have had of intrigues at Harmony,
these must have been removed by the fact of their having been
requested by the inmates themselves to keep a watch over the property.
So the way was being unconsciously prepared for subsequent events.
As fruit was also being stolen from time to time, the soldiers
maintained their watch over the garden, well knowing that their
vigilance would be rewarded by a full share of the good things, while
they would be the losers if the pilfering were allowed to continue.
When it became evident, a few months later, that another thief was
helping himself to her fowls, Mrs. van Warmelo made up her mind to
catch him red-handed, without the assistance of the Military Police.
She decided that he would not come back at once, and gave him two days
to digest his spoil, and on the third day she got up very early in the
hopes of being on the scenes before him, ready to receive him when he
came.
She had only been in the garden a few moments when she saw some one,
in a stooping posture, running swiftly towards the fowl-run. A moment
later and he had seen her. He turned and ran in the opposite
direction, Mrs. van Warmelo following closely on his heels, loading
her revolver as she ran and calling out, "Stand, or I fire." On being
warned a second time he stopped and turned round. Mrs. van Warmelo
demanded what he was doing on her property, and he answered in good
English that he had lost his way, upon which Mrs. van Warmelo offered
to show him the way, and ordered him to march on ahead. With the
loaded revolver between his shoulders, the culprit was forced to obey,
and Mrs. van Warmelo had the satisfaction of handing him over to the
sergeant-major "all by herself."
To save himself, the wily thief turned Queen's evidence and offered to
conduct the police to a place where drink for natives was brewed and
sold, but the soldiers, not relishing the idea of his escaping
scot-free, first gave him a good thrashing before handing him over to
be further dealt with by the Provost-Marshal.
CHAPTER VII
POSTAGE BY STRATEGY
Life at Pretoria was at this time far from pleasant for the Boers who
remained loyal to their cause.
Most people who had the means, or were not bound to the country by the
closest ties, let their houses and went to Europe until the war was
over. Many of those who did not leave of their own free will were sent
away to the coast, where they were considered safe from plotting
against the British, and the few remaining Boer families were
apparently on their best behaviour, above all dreading the fate of
their fellow-countrymen.
The inmates of Harmony, perhaps more than any other Boers, feared
being sent away, because they knew that watching events from afar
would be a thousand times worse than enduring the restrictions of
English martial law, and that banishment would make it impossible for
them to render their fighting men any services. But they found the
time of inactivity terribly trying, so much so that they began to cast
about in their minds for work, for mischief--for anything, in fact, to
relieve the daily, deadening suspense and the dread, of what they knew
not, with which they were consumed.
Very galling was the severe censorship of their letters. Mrs. van
Warmelo's high spirit rebelled against the continued surveillance of
her correspondence and she determined to outwit the censor.
Then began an exciting period of smuggling and contriving, which led
to the most complete independence on their part of the services of Mr.
Censor, and ended in a well-organised and exceedingly clever system of
communication with friends in every part of the world.
On one occasion a sympathiser, leaving the country for good, offered
to smuggle through to Mrs. Cloete any document Mrs. van Warmelo might
wish to send.
There was nothing ready at the time, but Mrs. van Warmelo decided to
make use of this opportunity for some future occasion, and wrote to
her daughter on a tiny piece of tissue-paper, "Whatever you may
receive in future, marked with a small blue cross, examine closely."
This was smuggled through in some way unknown to the sender and safely
delivered to Mrs. Cloete, for people were leaving Pretoria daily, and
it was not difficult to find suitable envoys.
Hansie had--and has to this day in her possession as a priceless
memento of the war--a small morocco case with a maroon velvet lining,
which travelled backwards and forwards between Harmony and Alphen
until some better way of communication was contrived. With a sharp
instrument Mrs. van Warmelo had removed the entire tray-like bottom of
the case, packed two or three closely-written sheets of tissue paper
in the opening, and pressed the little tray firmly down in its place
again. A tiny blue cross carelessly pasted on the bottom of the case
carried its own message to the conspirator at Alphen.
A few weeks later the case came back to Harmony with an antique gold
bracelet for Hansie and a long uncensored letter, in the snug
hiding-place, for Mrs. van Warmelo.
The next adventure was with a charming lady, whom we shall call "the
English lady," she was so _very_ English. (If the truth were known,
she was not really English, but Cape Colonial, and, as is often the
case, more English than the English themselves, and more loyal than
the Queen.)
She unwisely said to a friend of Hansie's, who naturally repeated her
words to Hansie, that she would take good care not to convey letters
or parcels for the van Warmelos when she left for England, as she
shortly intended doing, because she was quite sure they "smuggled,"
or, if she did consent to take anything, she would examine it
thoroughly and destroy whatever it contained of a doubtful character.
When this reached Hansie's ears she made up her mind that "the English
lady," and no other, would be her next messenger to Alphen. She
dismissed the morocco case from her mind as unsuitable for the
occasion, and deliberated long with her mother. At last she was sent
to town to buy three medium-sized dolls.
It did not matter much what kind of dolls they were, but they had to
have hollow porcelain heads, and they were to be bought from one man
only, an indispensable fellow-conspirator in one of the principal
stores in Church Street.
When she came home with the dolls her mother seemed pretty well
satisfied with the heads; they looked fairly roomy from the outside,
and so they were found to be when one of them had been carefully
steamed until the glue melted and the head dropped off.
Hansie had been writing, without lifting her head, while her mother
prepared the doll. The sheets of paper, rolled up into pellets, were
then forced through the slender neck, and the dolls weighed to see if
the difference in weight were noticeable. It was not. The head was
glued on again, a blue cross was marked on the body, and the dolls
were neatly wrapped in a brown-paper parcel.
"The English lady" soon after came to pay her farewell call. After the
usual formalities had been exchanged she remarked that she hoped to
visit Alphen soon after her arrival in Cape Town.
Mrs. van Warmelo was charmed and delighted, and asked whether she
would be good enough to take a parcel of three dolls for Mrs. Cloete's
little daughters.
There was just one moment's hesitation, then "the English lady rapidly
made up her mind." "Yes, with pleasure, but I must have the parcel
to-morrow, because my trunks have to be closed and sent on ahead."
Mrs. van Warmelo turned to her daughter in grave consultation. "Let me
see, it is too late now, the shops will be closed, but you can perhaps
go to town on your bicycle early to-morrow morning to buy the dolls
and have them sent straight to Mrs. ----'s house."
"Yes, mother, I'll do that with pleasure, but I won't have them sent.
I'll take them to her myself to be quite sure that she will have them
before twelve o'clock."
The next morning Hansie took the dolls to her fellow-conspirator
behind the counter and had them made up into an unmistakably
_professional_-looking parcel, tied and sealed with the label of the
shop.
Thus were the suspicions of "the English lady" lulled to rest. For her
comfort, should this ever reach her eye, I may say that there were no
dangerous communications in the doll's head, and should she feel
resentful at having been outwitted, she should have known better than
to _dare_ one of her country-women under martial law.
On other occasions sympathetic friends were willingly made use of, and
the methods of smuggling were so carefully planned in every case that
none of the bearers ever got into trouble, with one exception.
A foreign gentleman of high position, through his own carelessness,
found himself in a difficult and unpleasant situation. He was leaving
for Europe and expressed his willingness to take letters or documents,
provided they were packed so carefully that there would be no danger
of their being discovered.
Mrs. van Warmelo asked him if he could let her have any little article
in daily use and which he was in the habit of carrying about in his
pockets. He said that he would think about it, and sent her, next day,
a silver cigarette-case with a watered-silk lining. It did not take
long to remove the lining and to pack the letters under it. When the
lining was replaced and the cigarettes lay in neat rows against it,
the most careful observer could not detect anything unusual. These
letters were destined for Mr. W.T. Stead and contained a full account
of the condition of the Irene Concentration Camp.
In addition to this, Hansie gave her friend a photo of herself in a
sturdy frame, containing a hidden letter for Mrs. Cloete, whilst
instructing him to destroy the epistle if he could not hand it over to
Mrs. Cloete personally, moreover, not to remove the letter from the
cigarette-case until he arrived in London.
At Cape Town he met at the hotel a man who professed to be a great
pro-Boer and with whom he soon became so friendly that he, finding it
impossible to go out to Alphen himself, indiscreetly entrusted Mrs.
Cloete's letter into the hands of this stranger, with the result that
it was taken direct to the military authorities.
Our friend was arrested the next day as he was boarding the ocean
liner, and was kept under strict surveillance while his luggage was
being overhauled.
We were told afterwards by friends who witnessed the scene that,
during the process, he sat on deck with the utmost unconcern, smoking
cigarettes and toying with a silver case! No further evidence having
been found against him, he was allowed to sail away in peace, and Mrs.
Cloete too escaped without so much as a warning, perhaps because the
contents of the letter were not considered sufficiently incriminating.
Mr. Stead received the documents hidden in the cigarette-case in due
time and made full use of their contents in his monthly magazine, _The
Review of Reviews_.
Although, surprising to relate, no steps were taken against the
conspirators at Harmony, they soon noticed an extraordinary increase
in the vigilance of the censor, so much so, that the most harmless
communications failed to reach their destination, and when by chance
anything was allowed to pass through it was mutilated beyond
recognition, whole sentences being smirched with printer's ink or
pages cut away by the ruthless hand of the censor.
It may seem a small thing now, but this state of affairs, when letters
and papers were the only consolation one had, became a source of such
keen annoyance and distress that Hansie decided to approach the censor
and ask him the reason for such petty persecutions.
The head censor being away at the time, she was shown into the
presence of a man whose very appearance excited her strongest
antipathy. In the first place he had a purely Dutch name, and she knew
that he could not occupy a position of so much trust under the British
without being a traitor to his own countrymen.
Secondly, he seemed to derive much pleasure from her visit and, when
she told him who she was, had the audacity to say:
"I always enjoy your letters very much, Miss van Warmelo; they quite
repay me for my trouble!"
When taxed with confiscating and mutilating them, he was all concern
and innocence personified.
No, indeed, he could never be guilty of such a breach of gallantry and
etiquette, the fault must lie elsewhere; he was her friend, and if she
would promise to bring all her letters to him personally, he would see
that they were passed.
"Miserable Renegade!" she thought, with boiling blood.
Instantly it flashed through her mind that it would be foolish indeed
to make an enemy of this man. Her whole manner changed.
"How _very_ kind of you!" she said. "Yes, I shall come myself if you
are sure I shall not be giving you too much trouble."
"A pleasure, I assure you," bowing with great gallantry, and Hansie
went home to tell her mother what had happened.
After this interview with the censor, he allowed their letters to pass
with unfailing regularity.
True to her promise, Hansie took her European mail to him herself
every week, and this brought her into contact with him frequently. He
was always affable (hatefully affable) and obliging, and the thought
of this man made it more and more difficult for her to write,
especially those letters destined for the north of Holland.
One day she asked her mother to think of some plan by which she could
use the censor for her own purposes, without his knowledge, and this
set Mrs. van Warmelo's active mind and resourceful brain working, with
what result we shall see in our next chapter.
CHAPTER VIII
OUTWITTING THE CENSOR
If the method of writing between the lines in chemicals presented
itself to Mrs. van Warmelo's mind for a moment, it was dismissed as
too crude and well-known, and, in consequence, too dangerous.
And yet she found her thoughts reverting persistently to chemicals as
the only solution to the problem before her. One day she took the
strained juice of a lemon and wrote a few words with it on a sheet of
white paper. When dry, there was no trace of the written words to be
seen until she had passed a hot iron over them. Imagine her joy and
satisfaction when they showed up clear and distinct, in a colour of
yellowish brown. Well satisfied with her experiment, she sought and
found a square white envelope of thick paper and good quality, which
she carefully opened out, by inserting and rolling the thin end of a
penholder along the part that was glued. Spreading the envelope before
her on the table, she wrote some sentences in lemon juice on the
_inside_, folding it into shape again and pasting it down with great
care and neatness. This envelope she placed in Hansie's hands, with an
expectant look, when the latter came home that afternoon.
Hansie turned it over, examined it on all sides and shook her head,
puzzled.
"Open it," her mother suggested, "and look inside."
Hansie opened it and, peering into it, shook her head again, more
mystified than ever.
"I give it up, mother," she said. "Come, don't be so mysterious--tell
me what it all means."
Mrs. van Warmelo then took the envelope, opened it with the penholder
again, and, producing the hot iron which she had been keeping in
readiness for the psychological moment, she ironed out the flattened
sheet and revealed to the astonished gaze of her daughter the written
words within.
At first Hansie was speechless with admiration; then she threw her
arms round her mother and hugged her vigorously.
"Really, mother," she exclaimed, "I am proud of you. How we shall be
able to dupe 'Miserable Renegade' now!"
The full importance of this discovery was not realised at the time,
for all their smuggling had hitherto been carried on merely for
pleasure and they had had no information of any importance to
communicate to their friends across the seas; but, in the light of
after-events, they realised that they had been led to make their
preparations and to have their methods in full working order before
the time came to use them in conveying dispatches from the Boer Secret
Service to President Kruger in Holland.
They were now in the possession of a scheme which defied detection,
and the next thing to be done was to inform some distant conspirator
of this valuable discovery and instruct him in the use of it.
That this could not be done through the post, my reader will
understand, and as reliable opportunities were becoming more rare,
Hansie had to wait some months and to possess her soul in patience
until at last some trusted friend, leaving the country, could be
persuaded to convey the important instructions.
When and how they were eventually sent I cannot tell with positive
certainty. There is a difference of opinion on this point between Mrs.
van Warmelo and her daughter, and there is no way of settling the
dispute, because Hansie's diary contains no word about the White
Envelope, for reasons which it will hardly be necessary to explain.
Mrs. van Warmelo says the instructions were dispatched in a false
double-bottom of an ordinary safety match-box. Hansie thinks they were
either hidden behind a photo-frame or in a tin of insect-powder, both
these methods having been employed on various occasions, but at
present we are only concerned with the fact that the instructions
reached their destination safely, and from that day until the end of
the war a gloriously free and uninterrupted communication was kept up
between Harmony and Alphen and one spot in the north of Holland, of
which we shall hear more as our story unfolds itself.
Further experimenting showed that the lemon-juice became visible after
a few days when written on certain papers, while on others there was
nothing to be seen after many weeks, and this danger was immediately
communicated to Holland as a very serious one, for it stands to reason
that the danger connected with the sending of the White Envelope
_from_ South Africa was nothing compared to the danger of receiving
one and having it censored three weeks after it had been written.
One had to keep in mind that letters leaving the country would be
censored immediately and would not be subjected to further scrutiny in
Europe, whereas letters for South Africa ran every risk of being
betrayed on examination, after a three-weeks' journey by land and sea.
When the smuggled instructions were well on their way, the first White
Envelope was written to Holland, and carelessly thrust amongst a pile
of other letters by the quaking Hansie when next she handed her mail
to "Miserable Renegade."
He glanced through them all without examining them, merely putting the
mark of the censor on them and assuring Hansie that they would be
forwarded that very day.
No seven weeks could have been longer or more full of suspense than
those which followed, and the excitement at Harmony when in due time a
square white envelope in the well-known hand arrived from Holland can
better be imagined than described.
With what anxiety it was opened and how eagerly examined before the
hot iron was applied! how keen the delight when nothing legible was
found, even on the closest inspection! What relief, at last, when the
written messages became not only legible, but clear and distinct!
So this method was going to answer beyond their wildest expectations!
To make assurance doubly sure, and because Hansie did not trust
"Miserable Renegade" one jot, she sometimes made use of friends, going
to Johannesburg, to post her White Envelope there, giving as her
reason for doing so the difficulties she had had with the Pretoria
censor.
Of course the secret of the White Envelope was not confided even to
her most intimate friends.
This correspondence having been fairly established, there was nothing
to prevent Hansie from using the European mail every week; but to
avoid needless risks and the possible exposure of the valuable secret,
it was agreed to use it only in cases of extreme necessity.
The sign of the White Envelope became an understood thing between the
conspirators, and for all other correspondence grey and coloured
envelopes were used.
The correspondent in the north of Holland was a young minister of the
Gospel who had taken for years an unusual interest in Hansie's career.
At this point of our story the two young people, after some years of
estrangement, brought about by an unfortunate misunderstanding on his
part, pride and self-will on hers, had reached the delightfully
unsettling stage of exchanging photographs, the sequel of which took
place under the most romantic circumstances, not to be related in this
volume.
"It is an ill wind that blows nobody any good," the young man must
often have thought, as he faithfully carried out every instruction
from the scene of action.
All communications for the President and Dr. Leyds were sent to him
(through the White Envelope), because it was not considered safe to
correspond with them direct, even through the medium of the
lemon-juice discovery.
As time went on, this method of communication was used for many
purposes and always with success, but some time after the war, when it
was Hansie's right and privilege to go through the war correspondence
of the young minister of religion, she came upon a letter from Dr.
Leyds to him, in which she read, with growing interest, the following
information:
"I cannot conceal from you that I was startled when I opened the last
white envelope, for I was able to read the whole report, though the
writing was faint, without applying the heating process to it. Perhaps
this letter lay in a warm place near the engine-rooms on the voyage.
Will you not send a timely warning? You could, for instance, say that
the measles have come out and are plainly visible, even without the
application of hot compresses. Those people are quite clever enough to
understand what you wish to convey to them."
This warning did not reach Harmony at the time. Perhaps the censor,
trained as he must have been in the art of reading dangerous meanings
into seemingly harmless sentences, decided in his own mind that it
would be advisable to keep the information about the measles to
himself, and consigned the letter to the waste-paper basket.
In time experience taught the conspirators at Harmony that the
greatest care would be necessary in the use of the White Envelope, and
to this they probably owe the fact that it was never found out by the
enemy.
The reproductions given here of specimens of the White Envelope,
showing the address on one side and the written messages on the other,
will give the reader an idea of how this correspondence was carried
on. We do not vouch for the accuracy of the information conveyed in
the following translation of the contents of this envelope. The
figures were quoted from memory, but the general impression conveyed
in this report, of the condition of the commandos at the time, is
reliable and correct. On the side flaps of the envelope certain love
messages were written. These have been covered over with blank paper
and are not for publication.
[Illustration: (I) LETTER FROM HEAD OF SECRET SERVICE TO
PRESIDENT.]
[Illustration: (2) LETTER FROM HEAD OF SECRET SERVICE TO
PRESIDENT.]
[Illustration: (3) LETTER FROM HEAD OF SECRET SERVICE TO
PRESIDENT.]
[_Translation_]
CONTENTS OF WHITE ENVELOPE
_From Head of Secret Service to President_
PRETORIA, _February 12th, 1902_.
With Commandos all is still about the same as when I was here in
December. Much ammunition has been taken from the enemy
recently.
No want of food, horses fairly good, but clothing very scarce.
Three weeks ago I was with the Commandant-General. All well with
him. Government in good health, burghers full of courage. Good
tidings received from President Steyn.
_Everything_ plentiful in Free State.
General Botha is now in Ermelo district with 1,000 men; de la
Rey between Klerksdorp and Rustenburg, 1,500 men; Beyers near
Pietersberg, 1,000 men; Muller near Pilgrim's Rest, on Delagoa
line, with 600 or 700 men; Piet Viljoen between Heidelberg and
Middelburg, 1,200; Christian Botha, district Utrecht, 600; Smuts
has gone to the Colony with 1,500. These are the big Commandos
only. There are many small forces of 100 or a few hundred men
under petty officers. Engagements: January 15th General Botha
defeated enemy. Three wounded on our side. Enemy's loss, 46
killed, 92 wounded, 150 prisoners. 200 horses taken, 15,000
rounds of ammunition. Great victory by Commandant-General on the
3rd inst. No full report received yet.
Everywhere small engagements.
Many prisoners taken from our ranks lately, through the poor
condition of our horses. Things better now. De la Rey has had a
few small victories. On December 25th engagement under de Wet
near Frankfort. Our side victorious. A camp of 500 men taken,
150 killed and wounded, 200 captures, 2 Armstrongs taken with
400 shells; 1 Nordenbeldt with 2,500 maxim pompoms; rifle
ammunition 150,000; all the horses and cattle. The enemy is
plundered daily. Health of burghers excellent. Plenty of fruit.
Our losses, as usual, miraculously small.
Through perseverance and faith we hope to gain a certain
victory.
CHAPTER IX
JAN CELLIERS, POET AND PATRIOT
That there is more than one man of the name of Jan Celliers in South
Africa I know, but there is only one Jan Celliers who can be honoured
by the title "Poet and Patriot," and that is the remarkable
personality of our friend in Pretoria, J.F.E. Celliers.
I have chosen him as the subject of this chapter, not so much because
of the important, I may almost say revolutionary part he has played in
the building up of South African literature since the war, as on
account of the unique patriotism displayed by him throughout the war
under circumstances of the severest test and trial.
How he, after active service in the field since the beginning of the
war, came to be locked up in Pretoria as an unseen prisoner of war, an
unwilling captive between the green walls of his suburban garden, when
the British took possession of the capital on that stupefying June
5th, 1900, we shall briefly relate in this chapter.
Mr. Celliers' experience was that of many good and faithful burghers.
The news of heavy Boer losses, the desperately forced march of the
British troops from Bloemfontein to Pretoria, the crushing blows in
quick succession, the departure of the Boer Administration from the
seat of government, the demoralisation of the scattered forces, and
the painful uncertainty of what the next step was to be--these things,
combined with the fact, in Mr. Celliers' case, of having no
riding-horse or bicycle on which to escape from the town, caused him
to be surprised by the wholly unexpected entry of the British forces
into the capital. Just a brief period of dazed inaction, a few hours
of stupefied uncertainty, and he found himself hopelessly cut off from
every chance of escape.
He planned escape from the beginning, for conscientious scruples
forbade his taking the oath of neutrality. Of the oath of allegiance
there was no question whatever.
There was nothing for it but to keep himself hidden until an
opportunity for escaping to his fellow-countrymen in the field
presented itself.
The first three weeks were spent in the garden, but it soon became
evident that listening ears and prying eyes were being paid to
discover his whereabouts, and closer confinement was found necessary.
Thereafter he sat between four walls, reading and writing during the
greater part of the day, keeping a watchful eye on the little front
gate through a narrow opening in the window-blind and disappearing,
through a trap-door, under the floor as soon as a soldier or official
entered the gate.
When darkness fell he left his cramped hiding-place, and gliding
unseen through the house and yard, this weary prisoner occupied
himself with exercises for the preservation of his health, running,
jumping, standing on his head, and plying the skipping-rope
vigorously, under the protecting shadows of the dark cypress trees.
The weeks went by, broken once by the intense excitement of a visit of
one of the burghers from the field.
Mrs. Celliers' brother, M. Dürr, had crept into town at dead of night
between the British sentinels on a dangerous mission for the Boers. A
short week he spent with his brother-in-law, sharing his confinement
and making plans for his escape. Then he was gone, and the old deadly
monotony settled over the house once more.
July went by, and August was nearly spent when at last an opportunity
presented itself, and Mr. Celliers, in woman's garb, bade wife and
children a passionate farewell, not to see them again for nearly two
years.
With a cloak over his shoulders and a high collar concealing his
closely cropped hair, his wife's skirt on, and a heavy veil covering a
straw hat, he stepped boldly into a small vehicle standing waiting
before his gate and drove through the streets of Pretoria. For the
time at least he too belonged to the "Petticoat Commando." Mrs. Malan
was in the cart, and had been sent by Mrs. Joubert to escort him
through the town.
The disguise was taken before a thought could be given to the possible
consequences of such a step. Spurred by the heroic attitude and fine
courage displayed by his wife, Mr. Celliers lost not a moment in
availing himself of the long-looked-for opportunity.
The thrilling adventures and hairbreadth escapes he went through in
that memorable flight for duty and freedom will no doubt be found
accurately recorded in his book on the war, which I know to be "in the
making" at the present moment. Suffice it to say that he reached the
farm of a friend near Silkatsnek in safety, where, he had been
informed, he would find Boer commandos in the neighbourhood.
Disappointment awaited him, however. The commando had withdrawn to the
north, followed closely by thousands of British troops whose proximity
to the farm made it dangerous, not only for him, but for the people
who harboured him, to remain there longer than one night. A farm-hand,
a trusted native servant, was asked to undertake the task of escorting
Mr. Celliers to the Boer lines. After some hesitation he consented.
The risk was great, but the promise of £20 reward when the war was
over acted like a charm, and the two set forth before break of day on
their perilous adventure.
Here and there the tiny light of an outpost on the open field warned
them to make a wide _détour_. The crackling of the short burnt
stubbles of grass under their feet caused them to hold their breath
and listen with loudly beating hearts for the dreaded "Halt! Who goes
there?"
When the light of day began to break over earth and sky, the Kaffir,
in evident anxiety, warned the _Baas_ to hide in a large dense tree
while he, the Kaffir, went on ahead to reconnoitre. He departed--not
to return again, base coward that he was, and the unfortunate man in
the tree waited for hours until it dawned on him that he had been
deserted at the most critical moment. He stepped from his
hiding-place, quickly deciding to walk nonchalantly forward, the open
veld leaving no possible means of pursuing his way under cover.
He passes many isolated homesteads, some ruined and deserted, others
inhabited by aged people, delicate women, and little children only.
One and all they shrink from him when he relates his story. They do
not trust him--he may be in the employment of the British, a trap set
for the unwary; their homes are closed to him. He pursues his way
wearily. What is that approaching him in the distance? With straining
eyes he is able to distinguish a group of horsemen coming towards him,
and with lightning-like rapidity he turns from his course and jumps
into the washed-out bed of a small rivulet flowing by. A group of
startled Kaffir children gaze at him in astonishment. The riders come
in clear view--not horsemen, but a number of Kaffir women with
earthenware pots on their heads. These they fill with water, and
mounting their horses depart the way they came.
With renewed hope and thankfulness at his heart our traveller resumes
his course in the lengthening shadows of the short winter afternoon.
At last he reaches a German mission station.
No refuge for him here! For the inhabitants are "neutral," but he is
informed that a few days before 20,000 British troops had passed that
way in a northward direction, in hot pursuit of the Boer commandos
fleeing to the Waterberg district. The benevolent old missionary
directs him to a small farm in the neighbourhood where a Boer woman
lives alone with her little children. Perhaps she can give him some
idea of the safest route for him to take. But no, the woman turns from
him in extreme agitation, refuses to answer his questions, and is so
evidently distressed at his appearance that he turns away and
withdraws to the veld to think. What now? What now?
He is sitting on the outskirts of the great bush-veld, that endless
stretch of forest-growth, dense and dark as far as the eye can reach.
Shall he enter that, unarmed, without provisions or water and totally
ignorant of the direction to take? He shudders. The blackness of the
night is creeping over the scene, and over his soul desolation and
despair.
"I must return to the mission station," he decides at last. "Surely
they will give me refuge for the night!"
Slowly he drags his weary limbs across the veld, hesitatingly he
presents himself, falteringly he proffers his request. A moment's
hesitation and the family circle opens to receive him, its members
crowd round him with words of comfort and small deeds of love. They
are not doing _right_, but they will do _well_. Nothing is left undone
to restore and refresh the exhausted fugitive, who soon finds himself
in a perfect haven of domestic happiness and luxury.
As the evening wears on, the small harmonium is opened, and while the
younger members of the family are singing sweet part-songs together,
our hero turns over the leaves of a small book he has found lying on
the table, a book of German quotations. His eyes are attracted by the
following lines by Dessler:
Lenkst du durch Wusten meine Reise,
Ich folg, und lehne mich auf Dich
Du gibst mir aus der Wolken Speise
Und Tränkest aus dem Felsen mich,
Ich traue Deinen Wunderwegen,
Sie enden sich in Lieb und Segen,
Genug, wenn ich Dich bei mir hab.
They are like balm to his troubled soul, and he commits them to memory
for future use. God knows the future looks desperate enough to him,
for he feels that he cannot remain in this haven of rest.
Consideration for the safety of his kind friends forbids this. He soon
departs, having heard that, for the present at least, the western
direction is open to him, and, in taking this, his tribulations begin
afresh.
Unused to exercise as he has been during the long months of his
confinement, this traveller, in pursuing his course with so much
patience and steadfast determination, now finds himself hardly able to
walk. The tender feet are swollen and bleeding to such an extent that
he finds it impossible to remove his heavy boots. Halting, stumbling,
he continues on his way.
By good fortune he meets with another Kaffir guide, who leads him to a
small Kaffir hut and revives him with a draught of Kaffir beer. A few
moments' rest, and they are on the way again.
The day was far spent when they reached a Kaffir kraal, and here Mr.
Celliers sank down in agony of mind and body, too great for words.
More Kaffir beer was respectfully tendered to him and he drank it
gratefully, meanwhile watching with dull interest the Kaffir babies,
jet black and stark naked, except for a small fringe of blue beads
about the loins, as they crept around him, like so many playful
kittens.
He was not long allowed to rest, the good guide urging him to make a
final effort, and encouraging him with the assurance that he would
find a farm not far distant, the home of Mr. Piet Roos, of Krokodil
Poort.
This goal was reached that night, and a cordial welcome given to the
poor exhausted traveller, although he was warned that he could by no
means consider himself safe on the farm, as the British passed it
nearly every day. Nigh three weeks he spent there, taking refuge under
the trees of an adjacent hill by day and sleeping under the hospitable
roof by night. As time went on and the visits of the Khakis became
rarer, he became more at ease, and often worked with the farmer and
the women in the fields, helping them to dig sweet-potatoes, and
assisting his host in the work of sorting, drying, and rolling up the
leaves of the tobacco-plant. He also became an expert in the art of
making candles, and took active part in the other small industries
carried on in that frugal and industrious household, and the evenings
were spent in poring over maps, geographical and astronomical, which
his host happened to possess. Many were the questions put to him, and
long the discussions about worlds and suns and planets, while the busy
fingers plied and rolled tobacco leaves, but these discussions
generally ended in a sigh, a shake of the head, and an unbelieving,
"there _must_ be something solid _under_ this earth," from the
sceptical host.
The time was now approaching for the fulfilment of his heart's
ambition, but there is still one small incident to relate before we
leave our hero. One day, while he was still on the farm, he was passed
by a Kaffir, whom he questioned as to his destination. The native
replied that he was on his way to Pretoria, and the happy thought
occurred to Mr. Celliers to ask this native to let his wife know that
her husband was in perfect safety.
Now the remarkable part of this incident was, that that unknown native
took the trouble to deliver his message faithfully and conscientiously,
and it was only after the war that Mr. Celliers heard from his wife
that she had received news of his successful escape from a strange
Kaffir, who said he had been sent by her husband. This is a striking
instance, well worth recording here, of the sagacity and fidelity of
some members of the heathen tribes.
It was on September 13th that unexpected deliverance came in the shape
of a Boer waggon in search of green forage for the horses on commando.
Mr. Celliers instantly decided to accompany the waggon back to the
lager, and prepared himself for departure that very day. Tender,
grateful leave was taken of the good friends who had harboured him so
long, and he drove away, seated, with his few worldly possessions
beside him, on the top of a load of green forage.
The next day he arrived at the lager of Commandant Badenhorst's
commando on the farm Waterval near the "Sein koppies," and now we
close the chapter with the following words, which I have translated
from his diary:
"The crown has been set on my undertaking. God be thanked, I find
myself again amongst free men, with weapon in hand. For the first time
in the past four months I feel myself secure. There is no one, on my
arrival, who gives one sign of interest or appreciation; one burgher
even asks me why I had not rather remained in Pretoria.
"This stolid and philosophic view of life is characteristic of the
Boer and certainly does not discourage me.
"Excitement and enthusiasm do not appear to be the children of the
great solitudes, the slumbering sunlit vastnesses; nay, rather do they
spring from the unbroken friction of many spirits, sparks bursting
from the anvil of the great, restlessly driven activity of the world."
* * * * *
Mr. Celliers remained in the field until the war was over.
CHAPTER X
A LITTLE ADVENTURE WITH THE BRITISH SOLDIER
The exquisite summer of 1901 was drawing to a close.
January and February had been months of unsurpassed splendour and
riotous luxury in fruit and flowers, each day being more gorgeous than
the last. The glorious sunsets, the mysterious and exquisitely
peaceful moonlight nights were a never-ending source of joy to our
young writer, thrilling her being with emotions not to be described.
Each morning at 5 o'clock, while the rest of the idiotic world lay
asleep within its cramped boundary of brick and stone, Hansie revelled
in the beauties of Nature, abandoning herself to at least one hour of
perfect bliss before the toil and trouble of another day could occupy
her mind.
The garden being so situated that its most secluded spots were far
removed from any sights and sounds which could remind one of the war,
Hansie had no difficulty in turning her thoughts into more uplifting
channels during the peaceful morning hour, spent, when the weather
permitted, in her favourite corner under the six gigantic willows
below the orange avenue.
And the weather in those days nearly always permitted!
Most of the entries in her diary she made in this fair spot, alone,
but for the sympathetic presence of her big black dog. The morning
solitude was amply atoned for by the dozens of young friends who
joined the "fruit parties" every afternoon, filling the air with their
gay voices and wholesome, happy laughter.
[Illustration: THE SIX WILLOWS, HARMONY.]
Four or five young men and a bevy of beautiful young girls were
amongst the most constant visitors at Harmony. The girls, often
referred to in Hansie's diary as the "Four Graces," were certainly the
most exquisite specimens of budding womanhood in Pretoria.
There was Consuélo, tall and slender, our languid "Spanish beauty,"
with her rich brown hair and slumbrous dark-brown eyes; there was our
little Marguerite, fresh and fair as the flower after which she was
named, an opening marguerite in the dewy daintiness of life's first
summer morning; there was Annie, spoilt and wilful but undoubtedly the
fairest of them all; and then there was her sister Sara, Hansie's
favourite, with a girlish charm impossible to describe. Her creamy
white complexion, her lovely soft brown eyes, her winning smile and
tender voice--what could be more delightful than to sit and watch her
as she moved and spoke with rare, unconscious grace, clad in a snowy
dress of fine white muslin!
One sweet summer morn, a Sabbath, if I remember correctly, when the
air was filled with the fragrance of innumerable buds and blossoms,
Hansie sat in the accustomed spot, with her diary on her lap. She was
not writing then, but, with a slip of paper in her hands and a gleam
of mischief in her eyes, she was repeating with evident enjoyment a
few catching lines.
"Oh, Carlo, this is lovely! I must learn these verses and recite them
to the girls when they come this afternoon! Listen, Carlo."
FROM KITCHENER TO SECRETARY OF STATE FOR WAR
_Sunday_
I am taking measures once for all to clear my reputation;
I swear to give de Wet a fall that means annihilation.
_Monday_
A brilliant action by Brabant, the enemy has fled,
Their loss was something dreadful; ours--one single Kaffir dead.
_Tuesday_
De Wet is short of food-stuffs, his ammunition's done,
His horses are all dying, and he's only got one gun.
_Wednesday_
The cordon draws in round de Wet; he now has little room,
He only can escape one way--by road to Potchefstroom.
_Thursday_
De Wet is now caged like a rat, he's fairly in a box,
Around him grouped are Clements, Cléry, Methuen, French, and Knox.
_Friday_
An unfortunate event occurred--I report it with regret,
A convoy with five hundred men was captured by de Wet.
_Saturday_
A Kaffir runner says he saw de Wet's men trekking west,
With ammunition for two years, and food supply the best.
_Saturday (later)_
A loyal farmer told our Scouts de Wet was riding east,
Each man, beside the horse he rode, was leading a spare beast.
Carlo wagged his tail sympathetically.
* * * * *
Overhead the sky was of the deepest, richest sapphire blue, paling
away to the horizon to the most delicate tints, against which the
distant hills showed up in bold relief.
"Gentleman Jim," one of the native servants, was evidently enjoying
his Sunday too, for he loitered in the garden, plucking up a weed here
and there and watching the bees at work, the busy bees who know of no
day of rest.
"Bring me some grapes, please, Jim," Hansie called out to him.
"Yes, little missie," with alacrity. "What you like? Them black ones
or them white ones?"
"Some of both."
He walked briskly to the house to fetch a basket and disappeared into
the vineyard, returning shortly with a plentiful supply of luscious
grapes.
"Thank you, Jim. Enough for a week!" Hansie laughed, and he looked
pleased as he went off in the direction of the river.
A few moments later, half concealed by the shrubs and rank grass with
which the lower part of Harmony was overrun, Hansie noticed two
stooping figures in khaki, moving forward cautiously and then making
sudden dashes at some object, invisible to the girl. She watched them
intently, wondering who the intruders were and what their game could
be, until they came so near that she was able to distinguish what it
was they nourished in their hands. Butterfly nets!
A pair of harmless Tommies, spending their Sunday morning in catching
butterflies and the other insects of which there abounded so large a
variety at that time of the year.
They did not catch sight of the girl until Carlo sprang up barking
furiously, and then they started back in consternation and surprise.
"Lie down, Carlo," Hansie commanded sharply. "Good morning," to the
men.
"Good morning, miss," respectfully; "I hope we are not intrudin'."
"Certainly not. Are you catching butterflies? Show me what you have
got."
The men produced their spoil with pride.
"Will you have some grapes?" Hansie asked, handing the basket to one
of them, who helped himself gratefully and then passed it on to his
comrade. The latter, evidently not of a very sociable disposition,
took a bunch and walked off in pursuit of more butterflies.
The first soldier, however, squatted down on the ground at some little
distance from the girl and began to talk, as he ate the grapes with
great relish. At this point Carlo raised himself with the utmost
deliberation, yawned, stretched himself, and sauntering (I cannot call
it anything except _sauntering_) slowly towards his mistress, laid his
full length on the ground between her and the Tommy. Then he went
sound asleep to all appearances, but his mistress observed that when
the soldier made the slightest movement, the dog's ears twitched or an
eyelid quivered.
Slowly eating his grapes, the man glanced curiously at the book on
Hansie's lap.
"Are you sketchin', miss?" he asked.
"No; writing."
"Poetry?"
There was no answer.
"I am one of Lord Kitchener's body-guard," he went on presently. "We
are encamped near Berea Park on the other side of your fence. We were
in Middelburg last week and I saw one of the Boer Generals, General
Botha."
Hansie's heart bounded. She looked at the man incredulously.
"Indeed! How was that possible?"
"Quite simple, miss. Lord Kitchener invited the General into town to
have an interview with him. His brother--I think his name is
Christian--came with him. I acted as their orderly."
"Tell me more, tell me everything," the girl's voice shook with
ill-controlled emotion.
"There were five or six other men with them. They arrived at about
nine in the morning and stayed until half-past four that afternoon.
They had lunch with Lord Kitchener. A fine man the General is, well
set up, big and broad-shouldered."
"Yes, I know." Hansie _could not_ withhold those words.
"You know!" he exclaimed in great surprise. "Do _you_ know General
Botha?"
"Yes, indeed. And what is more, he is _my_ General."
The soldier looked at her in ludicrous amazement.
"Are you a Boer? You don't look like one, and I never heard any one
speak better English."
"I don't know whether what you are saying is meant as a compliment to
me, but I don't like being told that I don't look like a Boer, and I
certainly would not be pleased if you took me for an Englishwoman."
The poor Tommy looked troubled and muttered something about "no
offence meant, I am sure."
"Now please go on and tell me more about the General. Did you hear
anything of what he said to Lord Kitchener?"
"Nothing, miss, except when he went away. They shook hands very
hearty-like and the General said, 'Good-bye; I hope you will have good
luck.' That was all."
"Good luck! What do you think he could have meant?"
"We don't know, miss, but we think he meant good luck in Natal, for
Lord Kitchener went yesterday and I hear there is some talk of peace."
Hansie sat silent for a long time, turning these things over in her
mind.
"But what is all this accursed war about, miss? We soldiers know
nothing except that we have to fight when we are ordered to do so."
"Of course you know nothing. An English soldier is nothing but a
fighting machine, not allowed to think or act for himself. Discipline
is a grand thing, but Heaven protect a man from the discipline of the
British army. The war? I will tell you if you want to know. The war is
a cruel and unjust attempt to rob us of our rich and independent land,
and England is the tool in base and unscrupulous hands. You suffer
too, I know, and all my heart goes out in sympathy to the bereaved and
broken-hearted Englishwomen across the seas. Their only comfort is
their firm belief that their heroes died a noble death for freedom and
justice. Did they but know the truth! They died to satisfy the lust
for gain and greed of gold of mining magnates on the Rand."
"Suffer, miss! As long as I live I will not forget that march from the
colony, through Bloemfontein to Pretoria. Fighting nearly every day
and marching at least thirty miles a day, on _one biscuit_. There was
no water to be had! Will you believe that for three days not a drop of
water passed my lips? And I heard the other fellows say, not once, but
a thousand times, 'Would to God that a bullet find me before night!'
Our tongues were hanging from our mouths and our lips were
cracked----"
"Stop!" Hansie cried, putting her hands to her ears. "I do not want to
hear another word. These things cannot be helped, and your officers
suffered too!"
"The officers! When at last the water-carts came, we had to stand
aside and watch while bucketsful were being carried into the tents for
their _baths_!"
There was silence again.
"If I were an English soldier, I would run away," Hansie said.
"I've had enough, God knows, and when I get home I mean to leave the
Army and take up my old work--carpentering. The war can't last very
long. England is mighty--but I wish the bloomin' capitalists would
come and do the fighting, if they want this country and its
gold-mines."
"There are only a 'few marauding bands' left, so the English say,"
Hansie answered bitterly. "But remember what I tell you now. South
Africa will be soaked in blood and tears, and a hundred thousand
hearts will be broken here and in your country, before the mighty
British Army has subdued those 'few marauding bands.'"
The soldier's face grew troubled once again.
It was a good, strong face--a patient face--and it bore the marks of
much suffering, endured in silence and alone.
He rose and took off his cap.
"You've been very good to me, miss. I wish I could be of some use to
you."
"Run away from Lord Kitchener!" she said, laughing. "I would be very
sorry indeed if you fell by the hand of one of my brothers."
He looked at her sympathetically.
"How many brothers have you in the field?"
"God only knows," she answered sadly. "There were two left when last
we heard of them. The third has been made a prisoner."
The soldier took his leave and Hansie lost herself in reverie.
And when at last she roused herself, she wrote with rapid pen:
"Two Tommies have been in our garden, catching butterflies----" We
know the rest.
* * * * *
That afternoon about ten or twelve young people assembled in the
garden and were later joined by several members of the Diplomatic
Corps--Consul Cinatti, Consul Aubert, and Consul Nieuwenhuis, the most
frequent visitors at Harmony.
_The_ topic of conversation was connected with General Botha's visit
to Lord Kitchener in Middelburg, and when Hansie told her friends what
she had heard from the soldier that morning, they expressed their
conviction that every word he said must have been true.
And the latest _official_ war news, in rhyme, the dispatch from
Kitchener to the Secretary of State for War, came in for its share of
attention, occasioning no small amount of merriment.
Oh, happy afternoon! Oh, memories sweet! Oh, long departed days of
good fellowship and mutual understanding! Bright spots of gold and
crimson in our sky of lead!
* * * * *
Mrs. van Warmelo never at any time encouraged evening visitors. They
were all early risers at Harmony and their life could not be adapted
to the artificial, the unnatural strain of modern civilisation.
So the quiet evenings were spent by the mother in reading and writing,
while the daughter gave herself up to the indulgence of her one great
passion, music. Scales and exercises, Schubert and Chopin, and
invariably at the end--before retiring for the night--Beethoven, the
Master, the King of Music.
CHAPTER XI
PRISONER OF WAR
How the routine of life at Harmony was broken in upon by news "from
the front" that April month in 1901, I shall endeavour to relate.
Hansie coming home one morning from a shopping expedition, found her
mother in a state of suppressed excitement.
Everything was as much as possible "suppressed" in those
days--goodness only knows why, for surely it would have been better
for the nervous and highly strung mind if an occasional outburst could
have been permitted. Hansie suffered from the same complaint, and had
to pay most dearly in after years for the suppression of her deepest
feelings.
There is a Dutch saying which forcibly expresses that condition of
tense self-control under circumstances of a particularly trying
nature. We say we are "living on our nerves," and that describes the
case better than anything I have ever heard.
Our heroines, like so many other sorely tried women in South Africa,
were "living on their nerves," those wise, understanding nerves, so
knowing and so delicate, which form the stronghold of the human frame.
The external symptoms of this state were only known by those who
lived in close and constant intercourse with one another. Hansie
therefore knew, by an inflection in her mother's voice, that something
out of the way had happened when she said:
"I have had a note from General Maxwell."
"Indeed! What does he say?"
"He writes that Dietlof has been made a prisoner, and he encloses a
telegram from the Assistant Provost-Marshal at Ventersdorp, in the
name of General Babington, to say that Dietlof is well, as was Fritz
when last seen. See for yourself."
Hansie grabbed--yes, grabbed--the papers from her mother's
outstretched hand.
"'When last seen?' Mother, what can that mean? Why have the boys been
separated?"
"That is what I should like to know," her mother answered. "I wonder
how we can find out. We must ask to see General Maxwell at once."
That afternoon the two women called at the Government Buildings and
were shown into the Governor's office.
He seemed to be expecting a visit from them, and Mrs. van Warmelo
apologised for troubling him, reminding him of the promise he had made
on the occasion of their very first visit to him, that he would help
them if they came to him in any trouble.
This he remembered perfectly.
"What is it you want me to do?" he asked.
"If you will be so good, we want a permit to visit our prisoner in the
Johannesburg Fort, where he will probably be kept until he is sent to
Ceylon or where-ever he may have to go."
"Certainly; I will do this with the greatest pleasure. But first we
must wire and find out his whereabouts. I'll see about the matter and
let you know at once."
Thanking him gratefully, mother and daughter took their leave.
"We should have asked permission to take a box of clothes and other
little necessaries for our boy," the mother said.
"Yes, what a pity we did not think of it! But surely there could be no
objection to that! Let us get everything ready at least, and ask
permission when we hear from General Maxwell again."
The largest portmanteau in the house was overhauled and carefully and
thoughtfully packed by the mother's yearning hands.
No article of comfort was overlooked, no detail of the wardrobe
considered too small for her closest attention and care.
Presently Hansie came with _her_ contribution, a thick exercise-book
and a couple of pencils.
"Put these in, mother, if you still have room. I am going to ask
Dietlof to write down all his adventures in this book for us to read
afterwards. It will help him to get through his time of imprisonment."
(This small act, I may add here, led to the publication of her
brother's book, _Mijn Kommando en Guerilla-Kommando leven--On
Commando_, in the English edition--which was begun in Ladysmith and
written in the Indian Fort at Ahmednagar and smuggled out to Holland
under conditions of such romantic interest: the first book on the war,
written _during_ the war and devoured by the public in Holland long
before it was allowed to reach South African shores--a book famed for
its moderation and its truth, direct, sincere throughout.)
* * * * *
That Saturday night poor Mrs. van Warmelo never closed her eyes. She
feared, and she had good reason to fear, that her son would pass
through Johannesburg, and be transported to some foreign isle, before
a word of greeting and farewell could be made by her. The thought of
the morrow's Sabbath rest and inactivity intensified her fears.
The first thing she said to Hansie next morning was:
"You must go to General Maxwell and ask whether there is no news for
us."
"But, mother, this is Sunday!"
"I know that. You will have to go to his house."
"Oh, I could not possibly do that. What does he care about our
anxieties? Besides, I think it would be most indiscreet."
"I don't care," shortly.
In the end Hansie had to go, and when once she had made up her mind
she looked forward with some pleasure to her little adventure, for
there was no one of the officials known to her for whom she had a more
sincere regard than General Maxwell. His house was but a few minutes'
walk from Harmony, and Hansie, looking up at the gathering clouds,
hoped that she could be home again before the approaching storm broke
loose.
Our "brave" heroine _trembled_ when she rang the bell, for all her
distaste of the task had returned with redoubled force, but her
self-confidence was soon restored under the genial warmth of the
General's greetings.
He did not seem to be the least annoyed or displeased at this
intrusion on his Sabbath privacy. And he was quite alone--not, as
Hansie had feared to find him, surrounded by a crowd of officers.
He told her that though he had not been able to get news of her
brother direct, he knew that a large number of prisoners had arrived
at the Johannesburg Fort from Ventersdorp. He thought her brother
would probably be amongst them, and gave her special permits to
Johannesburg and back, and also a letter of introduction to the
Military Governor in Johannesburg, asking him as a personal favour to
assist the ladies in their quest.
"If I were you, I would not wait for definite news, but go to-morrow
on the chance of finding him. Delay might bring you great
disappointment. But, tell me, Miss van Warmelo, are you not glad that
your brother has been captured and is out of danger now?"
"Glad? No, how can I be glad? It means a man less on our side--and _he
is a man_, I can assure you. If all the Boers were as brave and
true--and such unerring marksmen--the war would soon be over."
The Governor looked disturbed.
"It seems to me a strange thing for a girl like you to feel so
strongly. Are all your women such staunch patriots?"
"Not all, perhaps, but there are many who feel even more strongly than
I do."
The General kept her there and talked of many things, asked her
innumerable questions on the country and its people, and drew her out
upon the subject of the war.
Outside, the elements were raging, for the storm had broken loose, and
the rain came down in torrents, while the crashing thunder pealed
overhead.
Hansie looked anxious, and the Governor said:
"It will soon be over. Are you afraid?"
"Oh no, I love our storms; but my mother is alone at home, and she
does _not_."
She told him, toying with her permits, of her curious collection of
passes and other war-curios, and he left the room with a friendly--
"Perhaps I can find something for you too," returning with a button
from his coat and a colonel's crown.
"The storm is over; let us see what damage has been done," and he led
the way into the garden, showed her the flowers, asked the names of
shrubs unknown to him.
* * * * *
"Oh, mother, the English must not be so good to us! It is not right to
accept favours at their hands, for it places us in a false position.
Don't ever ask me to go to General Maxwell again."
"Of course not. I quite agree with you, but I am very glad to have
those permits. Did you ask about the portmanteau and box?"
"Yes. He said it was all right, and promised to give permits, so that
they need not be examined."
They did not leave for Johannesburg, after all, on Monday, for a full
list of the names of prisoners from Ventersdorp arrived, but there was
no van Warmelo among them.
Telegrams were sent right and left, but there was something strange
about the whole affair, and no satisfactory answers could be got until
five days after the first tidings had reached Harmony. The prisoner
was at Potchefstroom.
Two more days of suspense and a note from Major Hoskins came,
enclosing a telegram--"Van Warmelo leaving to-morrow for Fort
Johannesburg."
Great rejoicings! The women had begun to fear that their hero had been
whisked away to some remote portion of the globe, without one word
from them.
General Maxwell's letters of introduction acted like a charm when
presented at the various military departments in the Golden City.
Colonel Mackenzie, the Military Governor, gave the women a letter of
introduction to the O.C. troops, who directed them to the
Provost-Marshal, Captain Short, informing them that they would find
him at his office in the Fort.
The Provost-Marshal did not know that more prisoners from
Ventersdorp were expected that day. He thought there must be some
mistake--unless--yes, there would be another train at 5 o'clock that
afternoon.
The ladies were advised to call again on Sunday morning and drove to
Heath's Hotel, where they had taken up their quarters. How quiet and
deserted the Golden City looked! How bleak and desolate, with the
first breath of winter upon it!
Poor Hansie had a shocking cold, and as she drove through the silent
streets with her mother all the miseries of the past eighteen months
came crowding into her aching heart and throbbing brain.
What would the meeting be like to-morrow? Would he be changed? And
what would he have to tell? The question still remained whether he
would be allowed to tell them anything about the war at all----
Suddenly a brilliant thought flashed into Hansie's mind.
"Oh, mother, let us go to the Braamfontein Station and see the train
arrive. I know we won't be allowed to speak to him, but we may at
least wave our hands and _look_ at him."
Her mother was delighted with the thought, and at 4 o'clock that
afternoon they took a cab to Braamfontein Station.
The train had been delayed, and would be in at 6 instead of 5 o'clock,
so they were told, but, for fear of having been misinformed, they
decided to wait at the station.
Cold, dusty, pitiless, the keen wind blew on that unfriendly platform.
There was no ladies' waiting room--in fact, it seemed as if the rooms
had all been utilised for other, perhaps military, purposes.
It is incredible the amount of suffering that can be crowded into one
hour of waiting!
Thank God, at last the train steamed in.
Armed troops and an unusually large number of passengers alighted on
the platform, but there was not a prisoner to be seen. The desperate
women walked up and down, keenly scrutinising every face they passed,
until they heard a well-known, highly excited voice calling out
"Mother! Mother!" to them from behind. They turned and saw their hero
tumbling from the train, an armed Tommy at his heels.
There are no memories of the moments such as those which followed.
Things must have been rather bad, for when Hansie looked round again
the armed soldier had turned away and was slowly walking in another
direction. Blessed, thrice-blessed Tommy!
To this day when Hansie thinks of him she remembers with a pang that
she did not shake hands with him.
"May we walk with the prisoner as far as the Johannesburg Fort?"
Hansie asked.
"Certainly, miss."
How the people stared and turned round in the street to stare again!
And now that I come to think of it, it must have looked remarkable--a
ruffianly-looking man, carrying a disreputable bundle of blankets, a
tin cup and water-bottle slung across his shoulders all clanking
together, and a small _Bible_ in his hands, with a well-dressed lady
on each arm and an armed soldier behind, guarding the whole!
The prisoner was a sight! The old felt hat was full of holes, through
which the unkempt hair was sticking, and the dirty black suit was torn
and greasy-looking--but the face, except for the moustache and
unfamiliar beard, was the same, the look of love in the blue eyes
unchanged.
It seemed like a dream, incredibly sweet and strange, to be walking
through the streets of Johannesburg in uninterrupted conversation,
carried on _in Dutch,_ with him, and to be able to ask the burning
questions with which their hearts had been filled all day--why he was
alone, where he had left Fritz, how and where he had been captured.
Everything was explained on that memorable walk, simply and briefly
explained, for the time was short, and under the circumstances Dietlof
would not give any details of information concerning the war,
considering himself bound to silence by the guard's trust in him.
He had been promoted to the position of commandeering officer by
General Kemp and had been in the habit, for some time past, of leaving
his commando for days at a stretch on commandeering expeditions.
About four days before his capture he had left his people again for
the same purpose, and on this occasion he had fled before the enemy
for three days, falling into their hands through the death of his good
horse through horse-sickness.
His brother Fritz was under General Kemp with Jan and Izak Celliers
(this was the first news Mrs. van Warmelo heard of Mr. Celliers' safe
arrival on commando, after the adventures undergone by him and
described in Chapter IX), and a few others of his most trusted
friends, but what they must have thought of his inexplicable
non-appearance Dietlof did not know, but he feared they would be
undergoing much anxiety on his account.
Near the entrance of the Fort mother and daughter took their leave,
thanking the soldier warmly for his kindness to his charge, whom they
hoped to see again the following morning.
Very different was the meeting then!
The prisoner, a forlorn object, stood between two guards, before the
Provost-Marshal's office, when the cab containing the two women drove
up.
Hansie jumped out and was going up to her brother, when one of the
soldiers said to her:
"You may not speak to the prisoner."
"But I may kiss him!" Hansie retorted, throwing her arms round his
neck and giving him a kiss which could be heard all over the Fort.
There was a general laugh, and Mrs. van Warmelo promptly followed
suit.
Dietlof was called into the Provost-Marshal's office and
cross-questioned, while his mother and sister waited outside
impatiently. What a lengthy examination! Quarter of an hour, half an
hour passed, then he appeared with a soldier, who said curtly:
"You may talk to the prisoner for half an hour _in English_!"
I forget how many minutes of the precious thirty were lost in groping
desperately for some topic of conversation suitable to the occasion,
and safe! but when at last they found their tongues, they talked so
fast that it is doubtful whether the Tommies understood anything.
Hansie longed to ask her brother whether the Provost-Marshal knew
anything of their escapade the night before, but dared not, hoping
that the men concerned were under the impression that this was their
first interview with the prisoner.
He told them some of his war experiences and the fights he had been
in, for the Provost-Marshal had given him permission to speak of his
personal experiences of the war.
One incident Hansie remembered particularly, because of a curious
coincidence connected with it.
In describing the battle of Moselikatsnek, under General de la Rey,
in which he and Fritz had taken an active part, he told his mother and
sister of a young English officer, Lieutenant Pilkington, whom he had
found lying alone in a pool of blood among the rocks and shrubs.
Dietlof tended him, giving him brandy from a flask which he always
carried with him for such purposes, and laying grass under him on the
hard rocks. The poor man was shockingly wounded, and it was evident
that his case was hopeless. He held Dietlof's hand, imploring him not
to leave him, but Dietlof was the forerunner of the seven burghers who
were forcing their way wedgelike through the English ranks in order to
compel the enemy to surrender by attacking them from behind. He
considered it his duty to go forward, but assured the dying man that
the comrades who were following in his wake could speak English and
would care for him. The donga was strewn with dead and dying English.
In the meantime the younger brother Fritz was tending a soldier with a
terrible wound in the head. The seven men were now advancing steadily
from one ridge to the other, but Dietlof had reached a point on which
the burghers from behind were bombarding with their cannon, and as the
rocks flew into the air he found it impossible to proceed.
He therefore returned, and the captain sent a dispatch-bearer down
with orders that the cannon-firing should cease.
For a moment Dietlof went back to the wounded lieutenant, where he
found some of his comrades assembled, and while they stood there the
unfortunate man, exhausted by loss of blood, drew his last breath.
Through incredible dangers the seven burghers forced their way through
the donga until they reached the point from where they could attack
the enemy from behind. It was a most critical moment, for they were
exposed to the constant fire of their own burghers, under Commandant
Coetzee, as well as that of the enemy, but soon they were relieved to
see the white flag hoisted, and were then joined by the rest of the
commando.
The English could not believe that the party which had attacked them
from behind had consisted of only seven men.
Colonel Roberts, Lieutenant Lyall, and Lieutenant Davis were taken
with 210 men of the Lincolnshire Regiment. One officer escaped while
the burghers were disarming their prisoners and yielding themselves to
the spirit of plunder with which every man is possessed after a severe
struggle for victory.
Of dead and wounded the burghers had lost thirteen or fourteen men,
but the seven forerunners, who had been exposed to the greatest
dangers, escaped without a scratch, while the enemy, in spite of the
fact that they had been under cover throughout, lay dead and dying in
large numbers.
Strange to relate, a letter from an English officer fell into
Dietlof's hands some weeks later, and in glancing over it his eye fell
on the words, "Lieutenant Pilkington is also dead--you know that
famous cricketer."
And still later Hansie heard from her brother that one of the seven
men, Field-cornet von Zulch, who afterwards joined him as prisoner of
war in the Ahmednagar Fort, told him that he had received a letter
from Lieutenant Pilkington's mother, begging for more particulars of
her son's last moments.
Many wonderful experiences were related, many glimpses given into the
conditions of commando life. The young man dwelt lightly for a moment
on his hardships and privations, saying, "Mother, do you know those
woollen Kaffir blankets with yellow stars and leopards, and red and
green half-crescents?"
"Yes," his mother answered expectantly.
"Well, I once had a pair of trousers made of that material."
Everyone laughed.
"But there are worse things than _that_," he continued; "unmentionable
horrors--things you pick up in the English camps and can't get rid of
again----"
Hansie understood.
"You will find a tin of insect-powder in that wonderful Indian juggler
of a portmanteau," she said, "and don't forget to use the blank
exercise-book."
The thirty minutes were over, and they were considerately left alone
for a few moments----
CHAPTER XII
THE CONCENTRATION CAMPS
For a small moment have I forsaken thee; but with
great mercies will I gather thee. In a little wrath I
hid My face from thee for a moment; but with
everlasting kindness will I have mercy on thee, saith
the Lord thy Redeemer.--Isa. liv. 7 and 8.
The hand which holds my pen to-day trembles.
From the beginning it was not my intention to touch upon the
Concentration Camps, but this story of the war would be incomplete
without at least a brief outline of that which played so important a
part during the war.
After the occupation of Pretoria, and when it was found that
hostilities, instead of coming to an end, were continued under what
the English called a system of "guerilla" warfare, and that the Boer
forces, instead of being compelled to surrender through starvation or
exhaustion, continued to thrive and increase in numbers, the military
authorities found it necessary to adopt entirely new tactics. But
subsequent events showed that no greater strategical error was ever
committed.
Let me explain briefly for the benefit of those of my readers who have
forgotten the details of the great South African war.
The Boer Republics had no organised force. In the event of war against
natives or against some foreign Power, the burghers were called up
from their farms, the husbands, fathers, sons of the nation, to fight
for home and fatherland. This left the women and children unprotected
on the farms, but not unprovided for, for it is an historical fact
that the Boer women in time of war carried on their farming operations
with greater vigour than during times of peace. Fruit trees were
tended, fields were ploughed, and harvests brought in with redoubled
energy, with the result that crops increased and live-stock
multiplied.
From the natives they had nothing to fear--in fact, their work was
carried on with the help of native servants only. It soon became
evident to the British military authorities that the Boer forces were
being supplied with necessaries in the way of food and clothing by the
women on the farms.
From the Boer point of view this was right and good, but it was
perfectly natural that the English should resent it, and, in isolated
cases, where it was known beyond doubt to have taken place, the houses
were destroyed, and the women and children removed to the towns as
prisoners of war.
As time went on and the women continued to provide their men with the
necessaries of life, the British authorities decided to lay the entire
country waste, with the intention of depriving the Boer commandos of
all means of subsistence and forcing them, through starvation, into a
speedy surrender.
A systematic devastation of the two Boer Republics then took place.
Only the towns were spared; for the rest, the farms and homesteads
and even small villages, throughout the length and breadth of the
country, were laid waste. Trees were cut down, crops destroyed, homes,
pillaged of valuables, burnt with everything they contained, and the
women and children removed to camps in the districts to which they
belonged.
Now, we are well aware that a savage foe would have left these
helpless victims of the unavoidable circumstances of war on the veld
to die, but the English are not only not savages and heathens, but
they are one of the most civilised and humane Christian nations.
Concentration Camps were formed in every part of the country, and the
women and children placed in tents on the open veld, near the railway
lines where possible, or in close proximity to the towns.
The work of devastation, carried out by some British officers with
loathing and distaste, and by others with fiendish exultation, was not
completed in a few weeks or months. It was carried on right through
from the time when the policy was decided on until peace was declared,
and in the end nothing was left but the blackened ruins of once
prosperous homes.
* * * * *
If ever there was a war of surprises, it was the Anglo-Boer war.
* * * * *
Instead of hostilities being brought to a speedy termination by the
demolition of the farms, the Boer forces gathered and increased in
strength and numbers by the addition to their ranks of men who had
left the commandos and were again living on their farms.
Wives and children gone, homes devastated, there was nothing left for
the men to live for.
Instead of being brought to submission by the drastic measures taken
to compel them to surrender, they were transformed into raging lions,
with but one object in view, the expulsion of their enemy from the
land of their birth.
Not alone in the towns did the secret service do its work. As the
camps grew in size and close supervision became more difficult, the
spies crept in and out, bearing with them the information wanted by
the Boer leaders, concerning the condition of the inmates.
In nine cases out of ten the earnest request of the women to their men
was to fight to the bitter end--not to surrender on their account, but
to let them die in captivity sooner than yield for the sake of them
and their children.
Perhaps I may be allowed to say here that when Hansie was in the Irene
Camp as volunteer nurse she knew nothing of the work of the spies.
Love and pity drew her to the scene of suffering.
* * * * *
The British did not count the cost when they began the system of
gathering in the Boer families, any more than they did when they began
their "walk over" to Pretoria.
Not only had they to support women and children for an indefinite
period after the devastation of the farms, but the entire maintenance
of the scattered Boer forces fell to their lot. During nearly two
years the Boers lived on the enemy, took their convoys, wrecked their
trains, helped themselves to horses, clothing, ammunition,
provisions--everything, in fact, that they required for the
continuation of the war. To tell the truth, there was hardly a Mauser
rifle to be found in the possession of the Boers at the end of the
war, they having destroyed the rifles with which they began the war,
for want of Mauser ammunition, and using only the Lee Metfords of the
enemy.
Sickness broke out in the camps--scarlet fever, measles,
whooping-cough, enteric, pneumonia, and a thousand ills brought by
exposure, overcrowding, underfeeding, and untold hardships.
Expectant mothers, tender babes, the aged and infirm, torn from their
homes and herded together under conditions impossible to describe,
exposed to the bitter inclemency of the South African winters and the
scorching, germ-breeding heat of the summer, succumbed in their
thousands, while daily, fresh people, ruddy, healthy, straight from
their wholesome life on the farms, were brought into the infected
camps and left to face sickness and the imminent risk of death.
Over twenty thousand dead women and children stand recorded in the
books of the Burgher Camps Department to-day, as the victims of this
policy of concentration.
Over twenty thousand women and children within two years! While the
total number of fighting men lost on the Boer side, in battle and in
captivity, amounts to four thousand throughout the entire war.
That this appalling result was wholly unlooked for, we do not doubt,
but nothing could be done to prevent the high mortality until many
months after the worst period was over and only the strongest remained
in the camps. It was indeed a case of the survival of the fittest.
Let me briefly relate a tragic event of the war to show what the
people of the camps went through and what little cause for surprise
there is in the unprecedented death-rate.
During the winter of 1901 a blizzard passed over the High Veld, the
site of so many Concentration Camps, in the Balmoral district, and
overtook a young lieutenant, W. St. Clare McLaren, of the First Argyll
and Sutherland Highlanders (the friend and playmate of Hansie's
childhood's years at Heidelberg) with his men.
They were without shelter, their commissariat waggons being some way
ahead, and crept under a tarpaulin for protection from the fierce and
bitterly cold blast.
During that awful night Mr. McLaren took off his overcoat to cover up
the perishing body of his major, and when morning came he was found
dead with five of his men, while around them, stiffly frozen, lay the
bodies of six hundred mules.
The brave and heroic heart was stilled for ever, a young and noble
life was lost in performing an act of rare self-sacrifice; but far
away in "bonnie Scotland" a widowed mother, smiling bravely through
her tears, thanked God for the privilege of cherishing _such_ a
memory.
Small wonder to us then, when tragedies such as this were brought home
to us, that in the camps the thin tents, torn to ribbons by the
storm, afforded no protection to the scantily-clothed, half-famished
inmates!
That the death-rate was not higher during the winter months we owe
entirely to the overcrowding of the tents, there being in Hansie's
ward at Irene many bell-tents, destined to accommodate six, holding
from sixteen to twenty-three persons for many months. But what was an
advantage during the winter months became a source of great danger
when the heat of summer came.
To return to our story.
It was Hansie's privilege--yes, privilege--to act as one of the
volunteer nurses from Pretoria during that very winter of 1901, and
though it is not my intention to record in this book the experience
connected with that period, I do not think it will be out of place
here to mention an important result of that sojourn at Irene.
Mrs. van Warmelo visited her daughter in the camp for the first time
on May 21st, and she was so much impressed by the misery she had
witnessed that, on her return to Pretoria that night, she could not
sleep, but tossed from side to side, thinking of some way to save her
country-women from suffering and death.
Suddenly she was inspired by the thought, "Write a petition to the
Consuls!"
It was 3 a.m. when she got out of bed to fetch her writing-materials
from the dining-room, and she then and there wrote a passionate appeal
for help to the Diplomatic Corps in Pretoria.
The Consul-General for the Netherlands, Mr. Domela Nieuwenhuis, to
whom she took the petition the following morning, advised her to lay
it before the Portuguese Consul, Mr. Cinatti, who, as the doyen of the
Diplomatic Corps, would bring the matter before the other Consuls, if
he thought it advisable.
Mr. Cinatti, after reading the petition, said the matter could
certainly be taken up if Mrs. van Warmelo would get a few leading
women in Pretoria to sign the petition.
This was done within a few days.
Under injunctions to observe the strictest secrecy, nine prominent
Boer women signed the document, and it was once more laid before the
senior member of the Diplomatic Corps, who immediately called a
meeting of the Consuls, the result of which was that a copy of the
petition, translated into French, was sent by the first mail to each
of the ten different Powers they represented and also to Lord
Kitchener.
General Maxwell, soon after these were dispatched, asked Mr. Cinatti
to see him at once in his office at Government Buildings, where, in a
long interview with him, he demanded from Mr. Cinatti the names of the
nine signatories.
Mr. Cinatti said he was not at liberty to disclose them--that, in
fact, they were not known (with the exception of the writer of the
petition) to the other Consuls. General Maxwell then pressed him to
give him that name only, as he particularly wished to know who had
drawn up the petition.
This was refused, fortunately for Mrs. van Warmelo, for the penalty
would have been great.
The military authorities left no stone unturned afterwards to find out
who the women petitioners were, but without success, thanks to the
great precautions taken by the Portuguese Consul.
A full month passed and no reply came from Lord Kitchener.
A second petition, more strongly worded than the first, was then drawn
up, imploring the Consuls to intercede on behalf of the victims of the
Concentration Camps and to inform the Powers represented by them, of
the death-rate which threatened the Boer nation with extinction.
Again a meeting of the Consuls was called, at which three of them were
appointed to form a committee of investigation:
Consul Cinatti, Consul-General for Portugal.
Baron Pitner, Consul-General for Austria.
Baron Ostmann, Consul-General for Germany.
Some of the other members at the meeting were:
M. Domela Nieuwenhuis, Consul-General for the Netherlands.
M. Aubert, Consul-General for France.
Mr. Gordon, Consul-General for United States.
The latter lived in Johannesburg, but attended all the meetings held
in Pretoria in connection with the Concentration Camps.
From General Maxwell the committee of investigation got permission to
inspect the Camp at Irene, called the "Model Camp," and with the
statistics obtained there, as well as the official statistics of all
the camps in the Transvaal, the Diplomatic Corps drew up a report,
which went to prove that unless immediate steps were taken to arrest
the appalling death-rate, the Boer population in the camps would be
extinct within a period of three years.
Copies of this report were sent to the Military Governor and Lord
Kitchener, and to ten foreign Powers, with copies of the second
petition.
What diplomatic correspondence then passed between England and the
foreign Powers we shall never know, for the utmost secrecy was
observed throughout; but what we do know is, that the famous
commission of inquiry, the "Whitewash Committee," so-called by the
Pro-Boers in England, was very soon afterwards sent out. It consisted
of six English ladies, and as a result of their investigations some of
the inland camps were removed to the coast, the rations increased,
additional medical and other comforts provided, and the general
condition of the camps improved to such an extent that after some
months the death-rate decreased considerably, continuing to do so
until it became nearly normal. But, as I have said before, not until
over 20,000 women and children had been sacrificed as a direct result
of being torn from their homes, exposed to the elements, and herded
together under conditions which only the strongest could survive. It
would take too much space to insert copies of the petitions here, but
they are to be found in Hansie's Dutch book on the Irene Concentration
Camp, published in Holland from her diary a year after the war.
The following statistics of what is known as "Black October 1901" are
taken from the Blue Books of England and will give the reader an idea
of the number of camps in the Transvaal alone, the number of their
inhabitants, and the full death-rate within the period of thirty-one
days:--
TOTAL CENSUS OF DEATHS, ETC. ETC., OCCURRING IN THE CONCENTRATION
CAMPS, TRANSVAAL ONLY, DURING THE MONTH OF OCTOBER 1901.
Camps. Census. Deaths.
1. Barberton 1,907 12
2. Balmoral 2,580 70
3. Belfast 1,397 33
4. Heidelberg 2,173 41
5. Irene 3,972 101
6. Johannesburg 2,937 29
7. Klerksdorp 3,822 176
8. Krugersdorp 5,500 90
9. Middelburg 5,602 127
10. Mafeking 4,783 410
11. Nylstroom 1,819 52
12. Pietersburg 3,598 41
13. Potchefstroom 7,467 90
14. Standerton 3,005 215
15. Vereeniging 920 9
16. Volksrust 5,280 47
17. Vryburg 1,256 53
------ ------
58,018 1,596
------ ------
During this terrible month there was a population of 112,619 in all
the Concentration Camps in South Africa. There were 3,156 deaths, i.e.
a death-rate of 28 per 1,000 per month. After "Black October" the
mortality decreased steadily, as will be seen from the following
figures:
Population. Deaths.
November 1901 117,974 2,807
December 1901 117,017 2,380
January 1902 114,376 1,805
February 1902 113,905 638
March 1902 111,508 402
April 1902 112,733 298
May 1902 116,572 196
CONSULAR REPORT ON THE CONCENTRATION CAMPS
The following is the Report on the Concentration Camps by the
Committee appointed by the Consular Corps of the Transvaal in response
to a renewed appeal addressed to them by the Committee of Boer Women
of Pretoria. The appeal was supported by three of the Consuls.
The Committee, which you have appointed to examine the situation in
the prisoners' camps, where Boer women are concentrated, though they
could not always obtain the required accurate information, have gained
sufficient results to arrive at the conclusions as laid down in short
in the following report:--
I.--In order to formulate a clear idea of the situation the Committee
has laid down the following tables:
(a) Showing the population and deaths in the Camps during April
1901, compiled from the official reports of the
Inspector-General of the Camps.
(b) The death-rate in the Camps of the Transvaal calculated from
Table A, as well as from reports published in the Official
Gazette, and according to other trustworthy information.
(c) The death-rate in the Camps at Bloemfontein and Kroonstad,
compiled from the notices in the Official Gazette of the
Orange Free State.
(d) Diseases and deaths according to Official Gazette.
II.--Although the returns are not complete through absence of returns
for whole weeks in the official publications, we may arrive at the
following conclusions:
1. That the death-percentage in the Camps surpasses all
hitherto-known proportions.
2. That the death-rate amounts to 14 times that of Pretoria,
which has, according to Dr. Stroud, an average of 25 per
thousand per year.
3. That the death-rate among the children confined to the Camps
has increased to an alarming extent.
The Committee, basing their verdict partly on the repeated assertions
of public opinion, on the communications of eye-witnesses, on the
evidence given by certain witnesses in a case before the Military
Court at Pretoria, and finally on the personal observations of four
members of the Consular Corps, to whom permission was granted to visit
the Camp at Irene, feel compelled to believe the principal causes of
diseases, carrying in their train such an abnormal death-rate, to be:
1. The difficulties and misery and privations to which the Boer
families are subject after having been driven from their
farms (their journeys often lasting about 20 days).
2. The insufficient quantity and frequently even bad quality of
articles of food distributed among them. Often the food given
to the children is in every respect inadequate to their
wants.
3. The great fall in temperature during the night.
4. The insufficient protection against cold experienced in the
tents by the healthy population, and all the more by the
invalids.
5. The absence of clothing and blankets.
6. The insufficient providing for invalids and the inadequate
state of medical stores.
7. The want of employees for the sanitary service in the Camps.
In view of the importance of the problem put before the Committee,
they have drawn up the above report and have sent copies of same to
all the members of the Consular Corps.
(Signed) S.S. PITNER.
P. CINATTI.
BN. OSTMANN.
TABLE A
DIRECT CAUSES OF THE DEATHS IN THE CAMPS OF THE IMPRISONED BOERS,
COMPOSED ACCORDING TO THE OFFICIAL NEWSPAPER ARTICLES TILL JULY
10TH, 1901.
Diseases. Number of Deaths.
Measles 123
Inflammation of the lungs 50
Dysentery 45
Inflammation of the bowels 35
Consumption 33
Diarrhoea 29
Bronchitis 27
Old age 21
Inflammation of the stomach 15
Malaria 18
Cramps 15
Measles and bronchitis 14
Typhoid fever 14
Weakness (Debility) 13
Heart disease 12
Croup 11
Old age 11
Cramps and inflammation of the stomach 10
Measles and weakness 11
Lying-in fever and child-birth illness 5
Measles and inflammation of the lungs 4
Inflammation of the brain 4
Diphtheria 4
Consumption and measles 4
Disease of the kidneys 6
Measles and diarrhoea 3
Measles and dysentery 3
Exhaustion 3
Inflammation of the bowels 3
Debility 2
Heart disease 4
Inflammation of the kidneys and debility,
diseases through teething, asthma, influenza 6
Various 26
Not classified 57
---
641
_Summary and Percentage_
Cases. Percentage.
Simple and complicated measles 149 23
Diseases of the respiratory organs 106 17
Diseases of the bowels 105 17
Fever 67 10
Debility, old age, consumption 75 12
Convulsions 15 2
Debility through old age 13 2
Heart disease 12 2
Not classified 57 9
Various 42 6
---
641 cases.
TABLE B
DEATH-RATE OF THE IMPRISONED BOERS IN THE CAMPS OF THE TRANSVAAL
ACCORDING TO OFFICIAL REPORTS AND TRUSTWORTHY INFORMATION.
------------------------+-----------------------------------+
| |
Camps and Months. | Number of prisoners +
| under 8 years. |
| |
+-----------+-----------+-----------+
| | | |
| Male. | Female. | Total. |
------------------------+-----------+-----------+-----------+
Middelburg April | 666 | 626 | 1,292 |
Potchefstroom April | 1,577 | 4,147 | 5,724 |
May 1-17th | 1,605[B] | 4,207[B] | 5,812[C] |
Standerton April | 584 | 553 | 1,137 |
Volksrust April | 1,911 | 1,667 | 3,578 |
Irene April | 2,134 | 1,589 | 3,703 |
" May | 2,364[B] | 1,738[B] | 4,102[C] |
" June | 2,593[B] | 2,007[B] | 4,600[C] |
Johannesburg April | 1,705 | 1,465 | 3,170 |
May 1-27th | 1,770[B] | 1,515[B] | 3,285[C] |
All Camps in | | | |
Transvaal April | 11,098 | 12,714 | 23,612 |
------------------------+-----------+-----------+-----------+
------------------------+-----------------------------------------------+
| Death Rate for the Period Indicated. |
Camps and Months +------------------------+----------------------+
| Under 8 years. | Per 1,000 per ann. |
| | Under 8 years. |
+-------+--------+-------+------+--------+------+
| Male. | Female.| Total.| Male.| Female.| pr. |
| | | | | | 1000 |
------------------------+-------+--------+-------+------+--------+------+
Middelburg April | 5 | 4 | 9 | 86 | 77 | 83 |
Potchefstroom April | 7[A] | 17[A] | 24 | 53 | 39 | 54 |
May 1-17th | 8 | 17 | 25 | 106 | 86 | 94 |
Standerton April | 5[D] | 20[D] | 25 | 104 | 372 | 255 |
Volkstust April | 5 | 21 | 26 | 32 | 153 | 87 |
Irene April | 14[A] | 35[A] | 49 | 79 | 270 | 161 |
" May | 19 | 49 | 68 | 58 | 331 | 200 |
" June | 38[A] | 97[C] |135[E] | 177 | 588 | 366 |
Johannesburg April | 9 | 82 | 91 | 62 | 681 | 349 |
May 1-27th | 12 | 67 | 79 | 94 | 598 | 325 |
All Camps in | | | | | | |
Transvaal April | 69 | 171 |240 | 75 | 161 | 122 |
------------------------+-------+--------+-------+------+--------+------+
A: According to the proportion for the month of May.
B: According to the proportion for the month of April.
C: Average number from April till July 9th.
D: According to the proportion for Volksrust.
E: Statement by a nurse in service at Irene.
Without further comment the figures are borrowed from the official
reports of the month of April or published in the _Official Gazette_.
TABLE C
RETURN OF DEATHS OF THE IMPRISONED BOERS IN THE CAMPS OF
BLOEMFONTEIN AND KROONSTAD (ORANGE FREE STATE) ACCORDING TO THE
"OFFICIAL GAZETTE."
--------------------------+---------------------------------+
| Number of Deaths. |
+-----+-------+----------+--------+
| | | | |
| | | | |
| | | Children | |
Camps. | Men.| Women.| under 8 | Total. |
| | | yrs. | |
--------------------------+-----+-------+----------+--------+
Bloemfontein from April | | | | |
2nd till July 2nd, 1901 | 33 | 80 | 198 | 311 |
| | | | |
Kroonstad from April | | | | |
1st till May 16th, 1901 | 8 | 8 | 41 | 57 |
| | | | |
Kroonstad from May 26th | | | | |
till June 23rd, 1901 | 9 | 12 | 26 | 47 |
--------------------------+-----+-------+----------+--------+
--------------------------+----------------------------------------------+
| Causes of Death. |
--------------------------+----------+--------+----------+---------+-----+
| | | | | |
| | | | | |
| |Lung and|Typhoid, | | |
Camps. |Infectious|Heart |Dysentery,|Debility,| Per |
|Disease. |Disease.|Diarrhoea.|Old Age. |1000.|
--------------------------+----------+--------+----------+---------+-----+
Bloemfontein from April | | | | | |
2nd till July 2nd, 1901 | 101 | 99 | 107 | 4 | 309 |
| | | | | |
Kroonstad from April | | | | | |
1st till May 16th, 1901 | 15 | 16 | 24 | 2 | 195 |
| | | | | |
Kroonstad from May 26th | | | | | |
till June 23rd, 1901 | 18 | 14 | 15 | 6 | 213 |
--------------------------+----------+--------+----------+---------+-----+
Number of prisoners till June 1st: Bloemfontein, 4,339; Kroonstad, 2,638.
TABLE D
RETURNS OF DEATHS AND DISEASE OF THE IMPRISONED BOERS IN THE ENGLISH
CAMPS OF THE TRANSVAAL DURING APRIL 1901.
----------------+---------------------------------------+
| Number of Prisoners. |
+---------+---------+---------+---------+
| | | | |
| Men. | Women. |Children.| Total. |
Camps. | | | | |
----------------+---------+---------+---------+---------+
Barberton | 38 | 151 | 236 | 425 |
Middelburg | 191 | 475 | 626 | 1,292 |
Irene | 892 | 1,242 | 1,569 | 3,703 |
Johannesburg | 505 | 1,200 | 1,465 | 3,170 |
Potchefstroom | 322 | 1,255 | 4,147 | 5,724 |
Klerksdorp | 120 | 350 | 521 | 991 |
Krugersdorp | 234 | 381 | 473 | 1,088 |
Vereeniging | 175 | 312 | 346 | 833 |
Heidelberg | 377 | 327 | 432 | 1,136 |
Standerton | 271 | 313 | 653 | 1,237 |
Volksrust | 452 | 1,459 | 1,667 | 3,578 |
Mafeking | 96 | 140 | 529 | 765 |
+---------+---------+---------+---------+
Total | 3,673 | 7,605 | 12,664 | 23,942 |
----------------+---------+---------+---------+---------+
----------------+-----------------------------------------------------+
| Number of Cases during April 1901. |
+---------+---------+-----------+--------+------------+
| | | | | Deaths |
| Men. | Women. | Children. | Total. | during the |
Camp. | | | | | Month. |
----------------+---------+---------+-----------+--------+------------+
Barberton | 6 | 26 | 27 | 59 | 4 |
Middelburg | 29 | 46 | 55 | 130 | 9 |
Irene | 51 | 85 | 181 | 317 | 49 |
Johannesburg | 3 | 26 | 110 | 139 | 90 |
Potchefstroom | 3 | 30 | 29 | 62 | 24 |
Klerksdorp | -- | 7 | 12 | 19 | 2 |
Krugersdorp | -- | -- | 2 | 2 | -- |
Vereeniging | 5 | 8 | 11 | 24 | 5 |
Heidelberg | 13 | 21 | 32 | 66 | 2 |
Standerton | 10 | 17 | 20 | 47 | 35 |
Volksrust | 14 | 19 | 33 | 66 | 26 |
Mafeking | 12 | 96 | 44 | 152 | 4 |
+---------+---------+-----------+--------+------------+
Total | 146 | 381 | 556 | 1,083 | 250 |
----------------+---------+---------+-----------+--------+------------+
This table is compiled from an official report by an attendant of
the Prisoner-Camps.
CHAPTER XIII
A CONSULAR VISIT TO IRENE CAMP
The story of the petitions, related in the previous chapter, had, as I
have said before, taken place during the time of Hansie's sojourn at
Irene. She knew nothing about it at the time because, naturally, her
mother's letters contained no hint of the agitation with the Consuls
at Pretoria, and she was absorbed in her own "agitations" in the Camp,
her stormy interviews with the Commandant, her hopeless struggles
against disease and death.
If ever a Concentration Camp was mismanaged, Irene was, and the six
volunteer nurses, not being paid servants, but having taken up their
work for love and at no small sacrifice to themselves, left no stone
unturned to bring about the necessary improvements.
How futile their poor little efforts were! How powerless they found
themselves against the tide of wilful misunderstanding, deliberate
neglect, unpardonable mismanagement!
The number of deaths in the Camps increased every day, and Hansie,
wiping the hoar-frost from her hair when she woke, half-frozen, in her
tent, wondered how many of her little patients had been mercifully
released by death that night.
For always, when she resumed her work, there were _childish_ forms
stretched out in their last sleep.
One morning, when she found that there had been five deaths during the
night, in her ward alone, she took the train to Pretoria, straight to
General Maxwell's office.
"Come and see for yourself, General. The people are starving, and they
lie on the cold ground with little or no covering. Fuel they have
nothing to speak of, medical comforts are always out of stock----"
With a heavy frown he asked:
"Why are these things not reported to me?"
"I don't know," she answered miserably. "We thought you knew. We can
do nothing with the Commandant----"
A great deal more was said on both sides, revelations, not to be
repeated here, made by the unhappy girl, and the Governor's
sympathetic face grew stern with righteous indignation as she
proceeded.
"I will investigate the matter for myself," he said. "But you look
ill--why don't you come home and take a good rest?"
"I am only sick with misery, General; but if you will speak to the
Commandant and insist on better management in the Camp, we may still
be able to save a great many lives. There is no time to lose. If the
people are not provided with better food and warmer covering during
this intensely cold weather, the mortality will be something appalling
next month."
A few days later, one beautifully crisp and clear Sunday morning,
General Maxwell and his A.D.C., Major Hoskins, rode over to Irene to
pay the Camp a surprise visit--and a "surprise" it must have been
indeed, of no pleasant nature, to the Commandant, judging by his black
looks afterwards.
The General asked to see Miss van Warmelo and demanded to be shown
through her ward, inspected her worst cases, visited the overcrowded
tents. He seemed much impressed by the scenes he witnessed that day,
and issued orders to the effect that all complaints from her ward were
to be attended to promptly, and that a distribution of blankets and
warm clothing should be made immediately.
There were no blankets "in stock" the day before, but they were
produced on this occasion with remarkable alacrity.
The Governor inspected the foodstuffs and the small supply of medical
comforts (which was _always_, I may say here, kept in stock for
inspection, and was not touched for the use of the inmates of the
Camp, when the stores ran out).
On leaving, the Governor said to Hansie with marked emphasis:
"I shall be obliged if you will make your complaints _to me_ in
future."
Her ward was now in a somewhat better condition, and she was preparing
to leave for home for a month's rest and recreation.
Although there were never more than six volunteer nurses in the Camp
at a time, there were quite as many again in Pretoria, waiting to take
the place of those obliged to go home on sick leave, and one of them
was immediately sent to take charge of Hansie's ward.
Tragic were the parting scenes witnessed in that ward next day, and,
as Hansie laughingly extricated herself from the crowd, she promised
to come back "very soon," little thinking that she would be in their
midst again on the morrow.
The new nurse, an inexperienced girl, after having gone through the
ward once with Hansie, quietly fainted away.
"Shall I stay?" Hansie asked her, when she had recovered.
"Oh no; I must get used to it. But what must I do when the babies are
dying like that?"
"You must pray to God to take them quickly. Very little can be done to
save them. Report your worst cases to the doctor regularly every day;
then, at least, the responsibility does not rest on your shoulders."
It was terrible, leaving them all in such a state.
Arrived at Harmony, Hansie found a note from Mr. Cinatti asking her to
come over to the Consulate immediately, because Dr. Kendal Franks, who
was visiting Irene next day, wished to see her before he left.
She went at once, and found a dinner-party in progress at the
Consulate, the German Consul, Baron Ostmann, the Austrian Consul,
Baron Pitner and his wife, one of the directors of the Dynamite
Company, and Dr. Kendal Franks. She was shown into a private study,
where Mr. Cinatti joined her, in great excitement.
"Come in to dinner," he urged, but Hansie wished to see only Dr.
Franks and said she would wait.
"Tell me," she said before Mr. Cinatti left her. "Is there any danger
for my mother in connection with those petitions?"
"Oh no, my dear, I think not. I hope not. The penalty" (he said
"penality") "would be very great. You won't mention it to Dr. Franks,
will you?"
"Of course not," Hansie laughed, and when he flew in a few moments
later, with a silver dish containing bon-bons, he whispered excitedly:
"He's coming now. Be on your guard! Take some of these, they contain
_rum_." Dear Mr. Cinatti, how he enjoyed an atmosphere of danger! How
he revelled in secret adventures, and how he would have appreciated
the conspiracies at Harmony, at a later date, if it had been possible
for the van Warmelos to take him into their confidence!
* * * * *
There was an atmosphere of serenity in the courtly, kindly presence of
the great doctor.
"Have you any objection to being cross-questioned?" he asked,
producing a notebook and pencil.
"Not at all," she said.
"General Maxwell told me to make a point of visiting your ward. I am
sorry you will not be there. Would it not be possible for you to go
over to Irene with me to-morrow? I am leaving by the early train."
Hansie hesitated.
"I have
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