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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 circ.u.mstances 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 pa.s.sed, 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 gra.s.s 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 a.s.sured 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 a.s.sembled, 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 Lincolns.h.i.+re 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 hards.h.i.+ps 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.