War's Brighter Side Part 8

Well, well! so it was your cousin, Miss Uitlander, whose azure eyes and twining fingers sent me into my rhapsody of love, while you, the true Katharine, the real princess, have held back, hid in some leafy bower of your pretty capital. Ah, well, it was not her hand that took our heart captive. It was not her eyes that slew us. What we loved was the essence of your soul and spirit which breathed upon us from your park-like seat, from your trees and gardens, from the pretty, happy houses of your subjects. It was you we loved, dear neighbour, you whom we have admired through all your youth and never quarrelled with and never known to be at fault.

As I wrote on Sat.u.r.day, we still stand aside and look upon your charms of peaceful domesticity, all garlanded for your bridegroom. Still, too, we see your selfish, scheming guardian of the past fleeing from the wreck and ruin into which he has plunged your people. And we see your sworn champions in similar flight, leaving you forlorn, deserted.

It is eminently womanly of you to defend these faithless gallants rather than solicit pity for yourself. It is the true maidenhood in you which makes you retire to your bower until you have forced us to acknowledge your value and earn your love. If we misjudged you and fancied you had tripped out to put your hand in ours, it was only because we were so eager and so smitten. We like you better as you are, shy and modest, proud and pure.

That deft touch of your pen upon the quality of our music--it was--I mean to say we find no fault in you for--but, no, we may not be disloyal, even to our pipes. It was the best we had to offer, and when better comes from home we fancy that even you will cease to barricade your pearly ears against it. We shall enjoy hearing Pan set your sighs to melody. We promise not to drive him away; he shall ever play your songs just as he trills the lays of ever so many fair maidens who throng around our Queen, and who remember the chains she has stricken from their limbs without for an instant forgetting the traditions which still knit each to her past and her kindred in so many far lands.

You speak of the "great honour" of our liking you. You extol our bravery. You admit our "tender mercies" and our love of order. You say you will not forget our courtesy to your people or our modesty. You call us "the politest of polite men"--ah, dear little Afrikander, we treasure each word in each of those sentences. We cannot help taking heart of hope. If you can speak of us so fair to-day, when the whispers of your old lover still sound in your ears, what may we not expect in time to come? We will not try to hurry your heart, but we warn you we shall melt it. For we love you, and there is no selfish prompting, no hope of mercenary gain in our affection. We love you because you are irresistible, even with your dimpled little hand clenched, and, perhaps, partly because of the lightning that flashes in your pretty eyes.

JULIAN RALPH.

JOINING HANDS WITH GATACRE AND CLEMENTS.

On Thursday morning last a small force was despatched by train from Bloemfontein to the South, in order to open up the country, to find out the dispositions of the enemy between here and the Orange River, and, if possible, to join hands with the British forces now operating in the direction of Stormberg and Colesberg.

The force consisted of 4 guns and 66 men of the 84th Battery, R.F.A., 21 mounted men of Roberts' Horse Bodyguard, 6 Grahamstown M.I., a section of the M.R.E., and 2 battalions of Guards (3rd Grenadiers and 1st Scots), totalling about 2,100 men and 120 horses, besides vehicles and mules sufficient to make the force mobile if required.

We moved off in 5 trains, the first being a short "breakdown" pilot train in charge of Lieutenant Mozley, R.E., carrying an advanced party of 51 Grenadiers under Capt. Clive. Ten minutes after, a full train of Grenadiers, carrying in addition Major-General Pole-Carew, C.B., commanding the expedition, and his Staff; and the other three trains carried the remainder of the force.

We were in hopes that there would be some parties of the enemy between us and the Orange, especially as Edenburg was reported occupied; and the country between that and the river ought to have been swarming with Boers opposing the advance of Generals Gatacre and Clements. But, as it turned out, we had no chance of loosing off even one round, and our progress was peaceful and unwarlike in the extreme.

At Kaalspruit we met Lieut. Russell Brown, R.E., who had just returned off an adventurous trip per train to Edenburg, which he had reconnoitred in the dark when it was full of Boers. After that we steamed slowly along, and reconnoitred Kaffir and Riet River Bridges, with a view to their occupation if necessary.

As it was quite possible that stray Boers might walk into the telegraph offices behind us and read off any messages going through, we transferred the instruments to the safer keeping of the detachments of Scots Guards we left at the bridges. The disconnecting of wires at one of the stations was carried out by a highly distinguished and zealous party of Grenadier officers, headed by the C.O. himself, but the result was somewhat unfortunate, as messages refused to pa.s.s through for some considerable time afterwards. Edenburg was approached at dusk, but, thanks to a friend who told us that the enemy had evacuated it, we had no need to use caution in so doing. On the contrary, we were warmly welcomed on coming to a standstill, and found a deputation of three ready to hand over the keys of the town and to ask for protection.

The General received the deputation, consisting of the Landdrost, Mr.

Fourie, Mr. Groenwoud and the Clerk of the Council, graciously, but demanded, as a guarantee of good faith, that all arms and ammunition in the town and district should be given up. This was agreed to, and messengers were despatched to the Commandant and two Field-cornets, who lived some way off, to come in next morning at 6 and arrange the matter with the General. A messenger was also sent to warn the Fauresmith commando of 400 to 500 men, which was approaching the town, that they had better disperse, as the British were in possession and might fire on them if they came too near. The commando, had, however, kindly antic.i.p.ated the purport of this message, and had already melted away on its own initiative.

Edenburg is a pretty little town, well supplied with water and provisions of all sorts. But its chief possession must be acknowledged to be a veritable Don Juan, to judge from the number of affectionate letters addressed to him that were found among the budget seized at the Post Office. This young man, who shall be nameless, must have broken the hearts of numberless charming ladies. Letters from every part of the Free State and a large portion of the Transvaal, some couched in most amorous language, others upbraiding him for faithlessness, all signed by names of the fair s.e.x (mostly without the addition of a surname) brought a hot blush to the brow of the unfortunate officer whose duty it was to scan their contents. It was past 1 a.m. before he had finished his work, but the fair writers may rest a.s.sured that their missives will all reach their destination in time, and their secrets remain locked in the breast of that particular Staff Officer.

_(Continued in the number of March 21st.)_

Early next morning the town was awakened by a series of violent explosions, which caused several timid people to imagine that a serious battle was raging. It was, however, caused by the burning of 67,000 rounds of ammunition which had been taken from the gaol and court house and which were being destroyed by order. Five hundred rifles were also taken, all of them Martinis, except twenty-one.

After arranging with Commander Cloete and the Field-cornets van der Merwe and Roule the details of handing over the rifles, &c., to their districts, the General proceeded on his way, and soon arrived at Jagersfontein Road. Here we were met by a Union Jack and patriotic inhabitants, but rapidly steamed on to Springfontein, on hearing that General Gatacre had crossed the Orange River at Bethulie, and was expected that morning at Springfontein Junction.

We arrived at this place at ten o'clock and, to our secret joy, found no signs yet of a British occupation. We heard, however, that an engine had brought two English officers thither from Bethulie on a short visit the night before.

Shortly after arriving mounted scouts of Montmorency's Horse made their appearance, and were followed by General Gatacre, who rode up, somewhat surprised to find us already in possession. Cordial greetings were exchanged between the Generals, and after a short stay we pushed on in the direction of Norval's Pont, which we were a.s.sured had been evacuated by the enemy 24 hours before.

On the strength of this information we left the three rear trains behind, and pushed on through rapidly steepening country to Prior's Siding. Here we were enthusiastically welcomed by the only inhabitants, two Russian Jews, who so far allowed their feelings to overpower their pockets as to present the General with a box of excellent cigars in honour of the new flag.

Another half hour through a horrid defile brought us to Donkerpoort, and at this uninviting station we found the vanguard of General Clement's force. These had crossed the Orange River by means of a pontoon bridge, flung across the river 2-1/2 miles below the great bridge, and consisted of a squadron of Inniskillings, the 4th Field Battery, 250 Australians, and some Infantry.

As we steamed slowly ahead, the extended lines of hors.e.m.e.n advancing over the plain raised cheer after cheer, and we were moreover honoured by a patriotic officer dismounting and taking a historical snapshot with the ever-present kodak at the advancing engine. This latter, one should add, was adorned by 4 officers sitting just over the cow-catcher, who obtained an excellent view of the surrounding country. Their admiration was, however, somewhat tempered by the knowledge of a widely spread report that at certain places there lurked under the line ma.s.ses of deadly dynamite. Considerable caution was at first observed at the culverts; but when the engine-driver a.s.sured us that dynamite was hidden at one place only, and that place known to him, we bade him proceed until within 50 yards of the spot, and then halt. When within half a mile of the bridge, we asked whether the fatal place was near at hand. Judge of our mingled horror and relief when we heard that the miscreant driver had not recognised the spot until within 5 yards of it, and had driven unwittingly over it at full speed!

Except for a short glimpse a mile back, one cannot, from a train, see the bridge broadways on. It was, therefore, difficult to estimate the exact damage that had been done as we approached it, even when we had walked out as far as we could go, and actually stood over the gap. The wreck is terrific; 3 spans and one pier had been blown up and lay in the water 100 feet below, connected with the standing part by a steep and tangled wreckage of beams, girders, and iron. Three months at least must elapse before the bridge can be thoroughly in working order again; but a little bird has whispered in the ear of the writer that by an ingenious series of connections from bank to bank a very large amount of stores will shortly be pa.s.sing across. Those Burghers who refused twice, when ordered, to blow up the bridge, were wise men in their generation, for its destruction will mean a much more serious loss to the Free State than to the British troops.

CHAPTER VI

OURS WAS NO BED OF ROSES

_Kipling's regard for "Tommy Poetry"--Our English as it was set up by Boer compositors._

"THE FRIEND" was an afternoon paper published at three or four or five o'clock in the evening, according as the Dutch compositors chose to get it out. We editors went to our tiny editorial room between nine and ten o'clock in the morning, and worked until lunch time--one o'clock--writing, seeing visitors, correcting proofs, and reading ma.n.u.scripts. What I have called "seeing visitors" mainly consisted in turning away private soldiers who came for copies of the paper. Though we posted notices that ours was the editorial room, and that papers were to be had at Barlow's stationery shop, "Tommy" would insist upon coming to us; therefore we gave up a large part of our time to sending him away, now yelling at him, now bursting into expletives, and anon pleading most politely that we were neither newsboys nor railway bookstall keepers.

What I have called "reading ma.n.u.scripts" was largely the work of examining the poetry of this same Mr. Atkins, who, fired by the genius of Mr. Kipling, is sometimes a better poet than you would think, sometimes a worse poet than you can imagine, but is generally a poet--of one sort or another.

We had good "Tommy" poets in our ranks; wherefore, when Mr. Kipling came, he insisted that all soldier poetry should be religiously read, and the best of it published. He pored over miles of it. At the idea of re-writing and improving Tommy's verse he was pained, and when Mr.

James Barnes, on one occasion, spent half a day in putting a "Tommy"

poem into Queen's English, Mr. Kipling was righteously indignant, and spent an hour in getting it back to Tommy's vernacular. But we are coming to Mr. Kipling presently.

The rest of the time of all except the man who wrote the leader of the day was spent in correcting the typographical errors of the Dutch compositors, who, by the way, could make more numerous and more dreadful mistakes in type than ever an intelligence officer made in getting news of the enemy. The consequence was that we often took up the first paper that reached us from the presses, and with a sigh a.s.sured each other that it was almost wholly given up to bad verse and printers' errors.

At noon during these early days one of us would gather up all the proofs that we could get from the printers, and march over to Lord Stanley's office to have them censored. He was so considerate and liberal that this soon proved a mere formality. I think he must have regarded the eccentric but interesting journal as a child of his own, or at least as one whose parentage he would be too polite to dispute if Lord Roberts claimed it. We used to hear how very much the great Field Marshal, also, was interested in it; how eagerly he secured his copy every day, and how much he liked all that it contained. A visitor at the Residency told us that one afternoon Lord Roberts saw an officer reading THE FRIEND, and called to one of his staff: "I see a man in there reading THE FRIEND. How is it I have not had my copy?"

The officer's paper proved to be a copy of an earlier number, so that the Field Marshal's wounded pride was healed. But we liked that story; we liked it very much indeed.

Our fifth number, published on March 21st, began with Mr. Gwynne's hearty leader on Rudyard Kipling, who was expected to reach Bloemfontein on that day. Mr. Gwynne also wrote one of his characteristic satirical articles on "The Soberest Army in the World."

Mr. Landon contributed a lively and picturesque narrative of the princ.i.p.al feat our despatch riders had performed up to that time, and I perpetrated a modest bit of reporting on South Africa's attractions--an article of greater interest here and now than it was then and for our army readers.

We had made it known that private soldiers would be charged only a penny for the paper, the original threepence being demanded solely of officers. In this way we hoped to earn a greater profit than by shutting out of our trade the humble private, to whom a threepence (a "ticky," as it is called in Africa) sometimes appears as big as a cart-wheel. But our new plan brought us a lot of trouble--especially of the kind you feel when you know you are being done out of something and yet cannot help yourself. The fact was that the officers encamped at a distance sent in their servants for their papers, and these messengers, being privates, only paid a penny for each paper. Then, again, the officers were dressed so nearly like the men that the newsboys and a.s.sistants in Barlow's shop could not distinguish them apart, and charged many of the officers the penny of the private. This annoyed us, because we were intent upon making as much money as possible in order to turn over a handsome sum to a soldier charity when we should end our stewards.h.i.+p--for not a penny did we mean to keep for ourselves. Mr. Landon wrote a strenuous appeal to the officers to help us to get our just dues. To the same paper Mr. A. B.

Paterson, of the _Sydney Herald_, contributed a very clever bit of verse, ent.i.tled, "Fed up." He was one of the contributors of whom we were most proud--and justly so.

In this day's paper there were seventeen notices of horses lost--presumably stolen, but a close scrutiny of all horseflesh was in progress, and in the same column with the wails of the robbed was a notice of the recovery of twenty-one horses--none of them being the same as any of the lost that were advertised for. The Provost-Marshal, Major R. M. Poore, on this day announced that every native with a horse must carry a certificate proving that the animal was his own. He also declared that every person possessing any property of the Orange Free State Government--horses, mules, oxen, or anything else--must quickly hand it up.

Lord Roberts reviewed the Naval Brigade on the preceding day, and we had a report of it showing how splendidly Captain Bearcroft's command appeared. The late Admiral Maxse, out there on a visit, witnessed the review, and said that it was the first one he had attended since the Crimea, when he acted as naval A.D.C. to Lord Raglan. This review gave us all one of our rare chances of seeing Lord Roberts, for he went out but little, and even at such times hurried directly to his destination, returning with as little loss of time. Every man, of every rank, saluted him, and he was scrupulously careful to return the salute even of the bugler boys. It was said to be surprising to note how many men he knew of all ranks, and how watchful and observant he was. "You managed that very cleverly," he would say to a man in conflict with unruly horses; or he would reprove a soldier for untidiness in dress. Nothing escaped his restless eyes.

He wore no decorations of any kind, and I have even heard it said that not every coat of his was decked with gilt b.u.t.tons--though this I repeat only upon hearsay. I can testify, however, that no man more modest and making less of his rank was in his army. I always saw him in plain khaki with that badge of mourning upon one sleeve which gave us all a keener thrust in our emotions than even the hardest felt losses of comrades and acquaintances which befell us all so frequently.

THE FRIEND.

(_Edited by the War Correspondents with Lord Roberts' Force._)

BLOEMFONTEIN, MARCH 21, 1900.

RUDYARD KIPLING.

EDITORIAL BY H. A. GWYNNE.

To-day we expect to welcome here in our camp the great poet and writer, who has contributed more than any one perhaps towards the consolidation of the British Empire. His visit is singularly appropriate. He will find encamped round the town not only his friend Tommy Atkins, but the Australian, the Canadian, the New Zealander, the Tasmanian, the volunteer from Ceylon, from Argentine, and from every quarter of the globe. He will see the man of the soil--the South African Britisher--side by side with his fellow colonist from over the seas. In fact, Bloemfontein will present to him the actual physical fulfilment of what must be one of his dearest hopes--the close union of the various parts of the greatest Empire in the world. His visit, therefore, will have in it something of the triumph of a conqueror--a conqueror who, with the force of genius, has swept away barriers of distance and boundary, and made a fifth of the globe British, not only in t.i.tle, but in real sentiment.