On the Heels of De Wet

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It was just as well that the brigadier had made his own arrangements,
for both Plumer and Pilcher forgathered at Orange River that night,
and the stationmaster, with the bonhomie bred of a long period spent
in disappointing everybody with whom he came in contact, informed each
column commander in rotation that the best he could promise them was
truckage sufficient for one squadron on the following day, two
squadrons perhaps on the second day, and the whole of the mounted
troops ordered by rail certainly not before a week or ten days. We
just ask you to make a short study of this situation. The episode
which is here related was not a farce--far from it: it was a serious
endeavour on the part of the British army in South Africa to capture
or destroy a noted brigand called De Wet. A possibility of bringing
about this desired result was certainly within view, and the British
army was straining every nerve to avail itself of a unique
opportunity. To the humble subaltern, who was but a microscopic atom
of that huge British army, this herculean effort partook rather of the
nature of burlesque than of serious war. But it was nothing to the
burlesque which was shortly to be enacted on Orange River Station
platform.

As day broke other columns concentrated on the station buildings,
until the inartistic surroundings of the little centre became black
with men and animals. In appearance it might well be likened to a
swarm of bees in temporary possession of a window-frame. Amongst the
troops waiting for rolling stock was a wild company of over-sea
Colonials--men of independent character and fine physique, who had
already done their year in the country, and to whom the sight of a
permanent way and the smell of a station-yard brought memories of
homes in a distant land, and transports tossing on Table Bay, and a
promise that had been made to them by some one, that they should
return home the next time they touched the railway. Their dash after
De Wet had been undertaken rather in the spirit of a favour. And now
they were on the line again, rumour had it that their belated truckage
had been ordered to convey them back to the Orange River Colony. They
accepted this rumour as a breach of faith, and feeling ran high in the
contingent--ran so high that it overlapped and swamped the tiny pillar
of discipline which thirteen months of campaigning had built into the
constitution of the corps. The climax was reached on the morning of
the concentration at Orange River Station. The colonel commanding the
over-sea Colonials stood chatting with our brigadier. We were waiting
for the shoddy platform buffet to open its hospitable doors, when
suddenly we were aware of the whole of the Colonial contingent
marching in correct files on to the platform. A full private was in
command. He issued his orders clearly. "Halt!"--"Pile arms!"--"Stand
clear!"--"Fall out!" And then a deputation of three advanced towards
us. They saluted their colonel with all military punctiliousness, and
stood as stiffly to attention as is possible with the irregular.

_Colonial Colonel._ "What does this mean, men?"

_Spokesman._ "If you please, sir, we have mutinied" (_the supporting
deputation gravely nodded their assent_).

_C. C._ "The devil you have!--but do you realise what it means when
you mutiny on active service?"

_S._ "Well, you see, sir, it is putting it rather strongly, perhaps,
to say that we _have_ mutinied. But you see, sir, our time is up, and
we have determined not to go on the trek any more. Our last trek was a
favour. We were promised that we should be sent home the next time we
struck the railway, and we hold by this promise."

_C. C._ "Men, don't be fools. Go back to your camp. You have no need
to believe that faith will be broken with you. But think of the
example you are setting to the rest of the troops here! Think of what
the people at home will say! You don't realise what you are liable to
for mutiny."

_S._ "Well, sir, we don't exactly mean this as mutiny. This is just a
protest against being kept out here against our will and agreement.
You will accept it, sir, in the spirit that it is given--a protest,
sir!"

_C. C._ "Very good. Go back to your lines!"

The deputation saluted, returned to the fallen-out contingent, which
gravely unpiled its arms and marched back to its lines, amid a little
desultory cheering from some few by-standers who realised what was
taking place.

The brigadier turned to the Colonial colonel and said, "Well, that is
the quaintest attitude that I have ever seen taken up by a body of
men. Do they often treat you to these protests?"

_C. C._ "Sometimes. They are children in many respects. I can tell you
they need gentle handling. They have made their protest, and for a
week or so will be quite satisfied. I even fancy that I shall be able
to get them to do yet another trek if the authorities insist; but it
makes it devilish hard for us to deal with these fellows, when faith
is so constantly broken with them. They are as quiet as mice when I
get them away from the railway. But once they see metals they smell
sea-water, and it upsets them. They are fine but quaint fellows!"

The brigadier acquiesced. He would have been just the man to have
commanded these men. And he would have improved a situation such as
the one we had just witnessed. Yet it would be impossible to overrate
the delicacy of that situation. A tactless man, full of the power
which long generations of military discipline has built round the
sanctity of a commission, in a few short sentences would have
converted the scene of incipient mutiny into open intractable
rebellion. As it was, the mutiny was taken in the spirit in which it
had been made, and terminated to the satisfaction of all
concerned.[39]

The New Cavalry Brigade became almost complete at Hopetown, as the
brigadier was able to collect his last missing squadron of the 21st
King's Dragoon Guards, which hitherto had been taking part in the De
Wet hunt with another column. A portion of the Mount Nelson Light
Horse, however, was still missing; but the brigadier did not worry
about them, and felt himself complete, as he took the precaution to
issue orders that he was about to proceed by rail to Jagersfontein
Road. But, as the narrative of the next forty-eight hours is to show,
the military system prevailing in South Africa was such that it was
only by a miracle that the most sagacious of leaders were able to
accomplish any exceptional result by strategy. The brigadier had
schemed to bring about a result which could only be arrived at by the
most rigid concealment of plan and direction.

It must be borne in mind that the Boers at this period of the campaign
had the most perfect system of intelligence. There was not a district
in the Transvaal or Orange River Colony which was not under the
command of a local commandant, who with a following of fifty to a
hundred men maintained a system of observation-posts throughout the
length and breadth of his district, and who apparently had the means
of conveying to some central organisation early intelligence of the
movement of every British column. This may appear to the casual
observer as an enormous undertaking, but in reality it was nothing of
the kind. It was absolutely essential to the Boer cause that a
considerable portion of their less valuable fighting material should
thus be distributed over the length and breadth of the guerilla area.
Owing to the great distances to be traversed in South Africa, every
Dutchman had a local knowledge of his own district which could never
be acquired in a country of rapid communication such as England. To
local men were apportioned the network of observation-hills in which
the country abounds. They lived upon the hill-tops all day, and
returned either to farms or other places of security during the night.
Their method of inter-communication was either by Kaffirs or mounted
messengers, and in this way news could travel by relay as easily and
rapidly as it is carried by a similar system amongst the natives of
India. Any Kaffir will dog-trot ten miles in two hours; consequently
without much effort Boer information would travel a hundred and twenty
miles in twenty-four hours. Added to this, every woman remaining upon
a farm was of the nature of an intelligence agent, and after the women
had been removed, for the most part to the concentration camps, the
majority of Kaffir kraals served the same purpose. It was this means
of information which made the Boer resistance possible: it was to this
system of espionage that De Wet owed the success of his meteor-like
career.

The Intelligence centre at De Aar being unable to furnish the
requisite maps, took upon itself to supply "the best local guide
procurable." It is mainly to the services rendered by this local guide
that De Wet owes his escape on this particular occasion. The brigadier
was fully alive to the existence of the Boer local espionage; but it
must be said with truth that he had not realised to what extent De
Wet's _clientele_ included the men who possessed the confidence of
the De Wet expert and the intelligence faculty at De Aar. If he had
realised this he would have been content to have made his dash,
trusting to the almost supernatural instinct of the Tiger. As it was,
to the general regret, the Tiger was allowed to sever his connection
with the column, to be replaced by one of the many "sitters upon the
fence" who have for months conduced to the prolongation of the war.

The latest information with regard to the movements of De Wet had been
signalled by Haig, who appeared to hold the view that he had the
arch-guerilla hemmed in against the unfordable flood of the Orange
River in the immediate neighbourhood of the Colesberg waggon-bridge.
Now the brigadier, as has already been shown, did not believe in the
unfordability of rivers. Moreover, the Orange River in front of us was
falling, and further information, which had been arrived at through a
rather peculiar channel, furnished us with the details of a letter of
instruction which had been sent by De Wet when at Strydenburg to
Field-cornet Botmann, then commanding the local commando in the
Fauresmith district, instructing him to collect as many horses and
Cape-carts as possible, and to keep them in readiness at Philippolis
in order to expedite his (De Wet's) journey north. Basing his plans
upon this information, the brigadier determined to place himself on
the line Jagersfontein-Fauresmith just at the moment when De Wet
halted to catch his breath at Philippolis. He would then detach half
his force to cover his right, facing south, leaving it to Plumer or
other troops despatched from the railway at Jagersfontein Road to
cover and close his left flank. To frustrate the vigilance of
Botmann's observation-posts it was the brigadier's intention to make
Fauresmith by forced marches. It had to be considered that there was
only a small margin in which it would be possible to arrive at
Fauresmith with advantage. Too early an arrival would have warned and
headed De Wet before the flank-detached column was in position to
effectually co-operate; while dalliance on the line of march would
have missed him altogether. It was a manoeuvre which could not have
been successful without some element of luck, but which was destined
to be rendered still more difficult by the co-operation of the local
guide.

As it was, the man was not taken into the brigadier's confidence until
he issued his marching orders to his force, a bare two hours before
the column was destined to take the road. The guide had joined the
command with all the pomp and dignity attaching to a following of five
mounted native retainers. He was an Africander of a most marked type,
and opened his connection with the Intelligence officer with the
information that he was not an ordinary guide, that he only took his
instructions from the officer commanding the column, and that he
reported alone to him. The brigadier smiled at his pedantry, remarking
that if he did his job it did not matter much to whom and by whom he
made his reports.

In order to facilitate the early movement of the brigade, it had moved
across the now historic railway-bridge at Orange River and camped in
the Herbert district, with the report that Kimberley was its
destination. For the sake of precaution the brigadier had thrown out
a strong outpost into the hilly country covering the road to Ramah.
Shortly after midnight, the Intelligence officer was sent out with the
final instructions to this outpost. As he stumbled amongst the rocks
he saw in the dim light which the young moon diffused a mounted native
moving along a track below him. The native would have remained
unrecognised, as the distance was considerable, if his horse had not
been a piebald of peculiar marking. The mounted native "had the legs
of" the Intelligence officer; but as he disappeared in the shadows of
night the Intelligence officer's apprehensions were allayed by hearing
the man challenged by a picket from the outpost. In five minutes the
Intelligence officer reached the picket to find the native gone, and
the corporal in charge stated that the man had shown a pass signed by
the Intelligence officer, Orange River Station. This hardly appeared
to be satisfactory; but the corporal, like so many young British
non-commissioned officers, had had no directions concerning native
scouts and passes, and not being trained to take upon himself
precautionary responsibility, had been duly frightened and coerced by
the scrawl of a hieroglyphic on a remnant of blue paper.

The Intelligence officer considered the whole affair with great
suspicion, and when he returned to the headquarters bivouac he walked
down to the new guide's _entourage_ and took stock of his "boys" and
animals. One of the five "boys" was missing, also a piebald pony which
had caught his eye earlier in the day. The Intelligence officer held
his peace, but, armed with this information, determined to watch
future developments, and flung himself down on the roadside to snatch
half an hour's sleep before the forward march should commence.

It was the brigadier's intention to seize Luckhoff--a little hamlet
situated half-way between Orange River and Fauresmith--that morning by
a _coup de main_. To accomplish this he detached half his force
without baggage, under the command of the colonel of the 21st, to move
as rapidly as circumstances would permit, and to occupy and hold the
town until he himself arrived with the main body later in the day.
The newly acquired guide was detailed to accompany the advance column.
By nine o'clock in the morning this advanced column was in position to
bear down upon the little prairie township. The colonel of the 21st,
well versed in the tactics best suited to surprise a village on the
open plain, extended a squadron into a horn-like formation, and
galloped, as he imagined, to the surprise of the inhabitants. The
sequel was very different to what had been expected. Save for women,
the village was deserted, while from the high ground and hills to the
north-east, a fully prepared posse from Botmann's commando opened a
heavy rifle-fire on those cavalrymen who had been detached to occupy
the farther approaches. Our Intelligence guide, who by some means had
disappeared during the later progress of the advance, was at once in
evidence as soon as the town was entered. He rode straight as a die to
a small store which ornamented the main street. Ultimately it proved
that he was the owner of this store.

The first comment of the intelligent reader will be that the action of
the guide was clumsy, both in design and execution, and that a column
thus duped deserves to meet with ill success. The guide's action was
undoubtedly clumsy, but it must be remembered that he had had long
experience of the British: he knew as well as every other man of
similar calibre in South Africa how far he could afford to play with
their forbearance. As far as the staff of the New Cavalry Brigade was
concerned, once the guide was admitted to the confidence of the
general the possibility of checking his further machinations was
beyond their reach. The fault lay with those who had given him his
credentials. Yet there was no proof against the man: he allowed that
the store was his, he admitted that he had sent one of his natives on
ahead of the column, claimed that he had permission thus to use the
native, who, he assured us, was one of the most trusted and loyal
scouts that the British had. For what reason had he sent him? The
answer was simple enough. He had only sent him with a message to the
man who was looking after his store, with instructions not to open it
after daybreak lest it should be looted by friend and foe alike. It
was a pity, as it subsequently proved, that we failed to make him
produce this loyal boy.

The only remark in the way of comment made by the brigadier was to the
effect that "One only learns by experience." He refused, and doubtless
rightly, to accede to the wishes of others on his staff that the man
should be executed out of hand. He promised to send him back to Cape
Colony, where, doubtless, he would give a satisfactory explanation,
and return again to some position of trust and honour in the British
service.

People in England, and those who have had experience of this
extraordinary campaign, will never realise the extent to which the
British army in South Africa has reposed confidence in knaves and
scoundrels. For one man that may have been shot or hanged, there will
have been a hundred who have gained the confidence of the British to
betray it either to their own use or that of the enemy. No one could
ever know or assess the extent of the knavery which has arisen,
flourished, and grown fat in this long-protracted war. And what a
field for sharps and knaves! Was not the control of the whole country
in the hands of straightforward and fair-thinking English
officers,--men whose word was their bond, and who never thought to
distrust their fellow-men, until their fellow-men thrust their
barefaced iniquities upon them. Believe me, that under the Southern
Cross it is not the Dutch who are vile.

But although we could not hope now to fall upon the arch-guerilla with
the full weight of first surprise, yet from the nature of the
situation in which he had been engaged during the last three weeks his
theatre and resources were of necessity circumscribed. The situation
even yet presented possibilities, and the brigadier settled to remain
longer in Luckhoff than he had originally intended, sending a patrol
to reconnoitre the Orange River. This patrol met with some success. It
was commanded by the same pessimistic subaltern who had commanded the
advance-guard from Richmond Road. Again it was his fortune to chaperon
the Intelligence officer in a quest for information. It was a
fifteen-mile ride to the nearest portion of the river, consequently it
was late in the afternoon when the patrol entered the hilly tracts of
country which covered the immediate approaches to the yellow stream.
As the advance-guard of the party topped a little nek, they rode into
a group of five burghers. The British dragoons had the advantage, as
the burghers had only that moment emerged from the river, which they
had crossed with the aid of rafts manufactured from drift-wood and
rushes. Not a shot was fired, and the men surrendered gladly the only
two rifles remaining to them.

One of the most curious traits in the burgher character has been
displayed in the manner of his capitulation. He will always tell you
that he is pleased to surrender, that it is an end he has been longing
and praying for for months, and yet until the actual moment which
necessitates surrender he will strain every nerve to avoid capture,
will suffer every privation and hardship; endure hunger, thirst,
disease, and sickness, rather than walk the few miles which separate
him from the British outposts. Take the case of these men who were
just captured: after a most harassing campaign, they had gone to the
risk and pain of crossing a rapid river in full flood; having crossed
at infinite peril, they welcomed the advent of the hostile patrol
which deprived them of their liberty, and far from making expression
of resentment, availed themselves of the opportunity to surrender, in
an attitude which ill disguised their eagerness.

Moreover, they were loquacious. They had crossed the railway at
Paauwpan with the remnant of De Wet's fugitive commando. In the
neighbourhood of Philipstown the guerilla had ordered a general
break-up of the whole of his remaining commando. At certain points
along the Orange River it was said that boats were hidden for the
purpose of effecting a crossing. But this particular party, having
been unable to find one of these boats, and having been shot at by
various patrols from pursuing columns, had effected the passage of the
river in their own original way but to fall into our hands. As far as
De Wet and President Steyn were concerned, these men professed to be
able to speak with authority. Reduced to a single Cape cart, they had
determined to cross at Botha's Drift. Their crossing was to have been
covered by a commando collected by Botmann at Philippolis, and they
themselves, in common with all the dispersed burghers, had orders to
concentrate within four days at Philippolis, where supplies, horses,
and ammunition would be awaiting them. All this, as it coincided with
previous knowledge, was valuable information, and the patrol hurried
to make the return journey to Luckhoff.

FOOTNOTES:

[35] Jocular term borrowed from the Dutch for small British columns.

[36] Dutch village.

[37] It is interesting to note that eventually this reasoning was
brought home to the direction of operations in South Africa. After
practically a year of the unsatisfactory groping referred to in the
text, the conception of the blockhouse system enabled mounted troops to
operate far into the vital interior of the country without returning to
the railway. It must be understood that the main use of the
blockhouse-line was not to stretch an impassable _chevaux-de-frise_
from point to point, but to furnish a series of posts, which ensured
the safety of the convoys that followed their trend. By this means it
was possible to keep columns operating in the interior supplied with
food and forage. So much so, that towards the end many columns had not
been near a town or railway for weeks. The conception of the "drives,"
which ultimately brought the peace movement to a head, was an
afterthought, which is commonly attributed in South Africa to the
sagacity of that intrepid and versatile young cavalry leader, Colonel
Mike Rimington.

[38] Dutch mounted columns.

[39] This very contingent continued to serve with distinction for quite
a considerable period after the little episode narrated above.

XI.

FULL CRY.

Luckhoff, in normal circumstances, has little to distinguish it from
the many rural villages scattered over the South African veldt. If
anything, it is more squalid than the general run of fourth-rate
hamlets. But when the New Cavalry Brigade went into billet there, it
was more or less a deserted and plundered village. The inhabitants may
have totalled a hundred souls, the large majority of whom were women
and children; and we should not have found these in possession if our
Intelligence guide had been able to give earlier notice of our coming.
As is the case with all these hamlets, the inhabitants who had escaped
the clutches of the "clearing-up" columns were in the possession of
_caches_ in the neighbourhood, where they hid away as soon as the
dust-clouds on the horizon forewarned them of the near approach of a
British column. Many columns had already "been through" Luckhoff, from
Clements in the early days, to Settle moving in stately magnificence
with thousands of cattle and hundreds of women in the preceding
spring. Each marauder in turn had left something of a mark, but none
had left so bare a skeleton or had stamped so plainly the impress of
horrid war as a column of somebody's bushmen. The brigadier had
planted his little red pennant in front of the villa of the absconded
Predikant. It was the only house in the place which had any pretension
to decorative finish. But when the staff took possession it was a
sorry pigsty. In its halcyon days a part of the house had evidently
been in the possession of a young mother, for two of the apartments
were knee-deep in a disordered heap of female apparel, intermingled
with the tiny garments which mothers store away--small socks and
bonnets tied with pink and blue. The ruthless hand of man had
ransacked each drawer and crevice, and all that calls forth the
sacred care of women lay tossed and tumbled in the dirt of floor and
passage. To those who had time to think, a sad, heart-rending sight,
pitiful evidence of the degrading influence of war. During the first
year of the struggle there was not a man in the British army who would
have pushed a woman aside to ransack the sacred corners of her
chamber. But war's brutal influence in time blunted the finer
instincts. How could it be otherwise? The longer a struggle is
protracted the fiercer and more bestial it will become, until at last
familiarity with the final arbitration of the beast deadens the better
influences of human reasoning. As one saw upon every hand the ruin of
these homes--many of which showed evidence of refinement bred of
wealth and education--one felt the pity of it all, and cursed the
leaders who in their spirit of tin-pot patriotism had pushed a
struggle, already hopeless, to its most barbarous issue.

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