On the Heels of De Wet

T >> The Intelligence Officer >> On the Heels of De Wet

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Looting was not allowed. That is true, but how was it to be
prevented?--where can you draw the line between legitimate requisition
in war and brutal plunder? Can you punish the men who in the morning
followed you without flinching in the face of death, because in the
evening you find them searching in a deserted house for a 'kerchief,
waist-band, or baby's sock to send as a memento to the mother or
sweetheart waiting patiently at home? Is there not some extenuation
for the man whose "pal" has been ambushed and butchered, when he
gleefully places a match to the murderer's byre or dwelling? Place
yourselves in the position of the fighting man before you consider
actions which are inseparable from partisan warfare, and bear in mind
that if the leaders of the enemy had capitulated when it was first
evident that they were a beaten people, there would not have been a
tithe of the brutality and suffering which marked the final phases of
the struggle. The story of the Predikant was strange. Himself a
firebrand of the most dangerous nature, he had preached an
anti-British _jehad_ with all the force of his ecclesiastical
rhetoric. Yet his three sons were of other clay. One, a staunch
trooper of Thorneycroft's, had died a soldier's death on Spion Kop's
shell-swept summit; another, an athlete of no mean order, had served
in Lord Robert's bodyguard; while the third was still fighting against
the people of his kind as an officer in some other British corps. The
two daughters, both married to _veldt kornets_, were already widows it
may be, for the irony of fate is infinite, by their brothers' rifles.

We found one Britisher in Luckhoff, and he was a Scotsman. His story
was plausible; but though it had satisfied other column commanders, it
did not find the same credence with our brigadier. According to the
man's statement he was neutral. Had been neutral since the outbreak of
war. He was an engineer in the Koffyfontein mines, and since these had
closed down he had come to Luckhoff and made a living by
market-gardening. Two circumstances conspired against the continued
freedom of this so-called Scotsman. The first was the fact that he
quoted our Intelligence guide as a reference for his good conduct; the
second, that we had found a steam flour-mill at work in the vicinity,
and circumstantial evidence pointed to our market-gardener as the
_mechanicien_ in charge. This being given as the real reason for his
presence in the hamlet, there was no need for his sojourn to be
continued, as we had closed down the safety-valve until the boiler
burst, and wrecked the mechanism of the engine. Flour-mills, even when
worked by market-gardeners of doubtful neutrality, can be of service
to a starving enemy.

The brigadier determined to halt a little in Luckhoff to procure if
possible more definite information. About midday this information
came, from both ordinary and extraordinary channels. As the
headquarters sat at lunch a mounted messenger arrived from Orange
River,--a small spare Hottentot or Griqua, who weighed about five
stone, and who had been put upon a horse and told to cover fifteen
miles an hour until he found us. The message he brought was in point
of fact a confirmation of the information which we had gleaned already
from our prisoners of the preceding evening. "De Wet, and with him the
President," ran the message, "crossed the Orange River at Botha's
Drift at three o'clock to-day (yesterday). By mistake gap in circle
let him through. Crossed without transport and with smallest
following. Presumedly will go north. Plumer cannot leave Springfontein
until early day after to-morrow (to-morrow). Must leave you to act
exactly as you think right. Co-operate if possible with Plumer!"

_Brigadier._ "Presumedly will go north! Well, that is the most
ingenuous expression of opinion that I have ever heard. A man crosses
from the south bank of a river to the north, and by an extreme effort
our friends of the Intelligence are able to conjecture that he will go
north. He certainly has the northern field open to him. It is worthy
of the information slips issued by our friend the D.A.A.G. for
Intelligence at Bloemfontein for the guidance of the columns in his
districts: 'Everything in this shop window sixpence halfpenny; take
your choice every time.' As usual, we shall have to work out our own
salvation. Mr Intelligence, the map!"

The map was duly spread upon the Reverend Predikant's mahogany board,
and with the aid of a slip of paper the distances measured off. The
brigadier sat back in his chair, drawing meditatively at the bent
stem of his Boer pipe. When the measuring was over he remained silent
a moment and then gave his opinion of the situation.

_Brigadier._ "They evidently have no one operating down from
Bloemfontein, otherwise they would not quote Plumer. It is just as
evident that De Wet slipped across the river at some spot where it is
not precisely convenient for any of our Colony brigands to pursue him.
That is, we are their only hope and the only mobile people within
reach. De Wet crossed the Orange River yesterday afternoon, therefore,
according to our information, he should have slept at Philippolis last
night. As a rule De Wet never sleeps in the same place on two
consecutive nights. But his arrival at Philippolis was in rather
peculiar circumstances. He didn't arrive a successful swashbuckler
cocking his hat with all his plans made, but a washed-out fugitive
with all his plans to make. Therefore the chances are that he won't
have got very far on his way from Philippolis to-night. Probably he
won't make a start until to-morrow morning. He knows that his right
is clear. He knew last night or early this morning that we had arrived
at Luckhoff. He will have information by this that we have halted this
morning, and that the Riet River is in flood. Therefore it is plain
that he, taking us as an average British commando, can leave
Philippolis at daybreak to-morrow, cross the Riet, and destroy the
Kalabas bridge behind him without inconvenience from us. At least that
is the map reading of this picnic. It is a short fifty miles from
Philippolis to Fauresmith; we are thirty miles from Fauresmith. A
British commando halted to-day would not reach Fauresmith until
evening to-morrow; a Boer _paarde kommando_ will have done its fifty
miles by the time one of our 'crawlers' outspans for breakfast. Now,
old man Baker, get out orders. For public guidance, we march at four
o'clock for Koffyfontein and Kimberley, going d----d slow; for private
information, as soon as it is dark we will change direction and be in
possession of Fauresmith as soon after daybreak as possible. Whoever
is in possession of Fauresmith will be in possession of the bridge
over Riet River. Mr Intelligence, it will be your business to make it
sufficiently well known in this metropolis that our destination is
Koffyfontein for Kimberley. Don't make them suspicious by being too
emphatic about it."

_Brigade-Major._ "Very good, sir; but we shall have to cover at least
forty miles!"

_B._ "True for you; what's the odds?"

_B.-M._ "Only the ox-transport. It can't reach Fauresmith by daybreak,
night-marching. There ain't anything of a moon--in fact it's going to
be devilish dark with all these clouds about."

_B._ "True again: but we will dodge all that. As soon as we have
changed direction to our true line, we will leave the transport to
come along as best it may: it can follow us to Fauresmith."

_B.-M._ "What escort shall I give it?"

_B._ "How many dismounted men are there? It can have just as many
cripples as we possess. I am not going to worry about transport. If I
am wrong in my calculations and De Wet attempts to cross behind me, I
want that transport to deceive him. He would never dream of it being
unprotected. He cannot be in any strength; besides, I shall want every
mounted man I have got for my scheme. The transport, ox and mule, must
take its chance. But see that it doesn't straggle. The mule can keep
up with us as long as possible, but it must keep together. Likewise
the ox-transport, taking its own time, must keep closed up. I assure
you the only object of these people on this journey will be to get
away. Two blocks of moving waggons will mystify them, not attract
them. Right away,--not a word about the change of direction until
after dark--not even to C.O.'s. Tell 'em any story you like."

The Intelligence officer had barely got outside when a tall and even
good-looking native attracted his attention by raising his battered
hat and murmuring "kos." The man, a magnificent specimen of the Basuto
savage, was quivering with emotion, and he pointed to a great
grey-white weal which showed across his neck and open breast.

_Intelligence Officer._ "Sjambok?"

_Basuto._ "Yah, Boss!"

_I. O._ "How did you come by this?"

The native, who was of more than average intelligence, then told the
following astounding story. He was one of the five native scouts
employed by the new Intelligence guide. The morning that the New
Cavalry Brigade had left Orange River Station, he had been sent
forward by our friend with a letter to Commandant Botmann, and,
finding that he was not at Luckhoff, the Basuto had warned the acting
landrost[40] there of the approach of the British, and had then ridden
on to Philippolis, and was there when De Wet and Steyn arrived; and in
the truly expressive language of the native he told of their dejection
and the dispiriting nature of the speech which the ex-President had
made to the assembled burghers. He also furnished the valuable
information that De Wet had issued instructions that all stray
burghers and Brand's, Wessel's, Akermann's, and Kolbe's commandos
should concentrate with him at Petrusberg, whither he was proceeding
on the following day with his personal bodyguard under Theron. As the
brigadier had anticipated, De Wet was halting a day to allow his
stragglers to concentrate. In all he would have about 300 men and
forty Cape carts. But at Petrusberg they would concentrate to about
1200 or 1500. The Basuto had ridden through from Philippolis that
night, and had arrived back at Luckhoff only half an hour ago. The
blow which was responsible for this disclosure of his master's perfidy
and the Boer plans was by reason of a favourite horse. In order to
ensure the safe delivery of his message, and not dreaming that it
would go all the way to Philippolis, the Intelligence guide had
mounted the Basuto on his best horse. This best horse had caught the
eye of a Winburg burgher in Philippolis, and he had relieved the
Basuto of it, leaving him to make his way back upon some scarecrow.
_Hinc illae lacrymae_.

The Intelligence officer smoothed over the Basuto's ill-will with
fair-mouthed promises, and led him to understand that if he went back
to his master and suffered in silence for a short period longer he
would be handsomely rewarded. But, said the dignified savage, "he bad
man--always bad man, telling d----d Dutchmens always. Boss give me
gun, no more telling Dutchmens!" The Intelligence officer pacified the
man by promises of an execution in the near future, and then went to
the brigadier with the information and an earnest conspiracy against
the guide's life. However, the evidence was not conclusive enough for
the brigadier. "What proof have you that it is not all a plant on the
part of your friend, Mr Intelligence? Besides, I would never hang a
white man on the evidence of a black. I am bad at the 'black-cap'
game, but I'll tell you what I will do. I don't want any more of this
guide; tell him that we are going to Kimberley, and that he can go
back to Orange River at once; write a letter to the De Aar
Intelligence coves, and tell them we are bound for Kimberley, seal it
heavily with sealing-wax, and then, if your 'pal' is the bandit you
represent him to be, he will read it and send it to De Wet to-night.
If he is not a knave he will deliver it some time to-morrow night,
when we shall be out of the ken of the De Aar folk, and the lie won't
matter." And so it was arranged....

It has been pointed out earlier in this narrative how often De Wet has
owed his freedom, and incidentally his life, to the leaning of the law
of chances in his favour. Times without number a sequence of
extraordinary circumstances has conspired to defeat the best-laid
plans which have been made to enmesh him. It is not intended to deny
that the man was possessed of a peculiar genius which constantly of
itself freed him from the dangers to which he was exposed. But beyond
this there were instances, not so rare as the world would believe,
when his genius failed him, and it was upon these occasions that
Providence stepped in and furnished a balance against which it was
impossible for human endeavour to prevail. It will never be maintained
that in the present case the brigadier had divined an infallible
scheme. But, as will be seen, the operation of circumstances so
dovetailed with the brigadier's appreciation of the situation, that
though no certain opportunity was foreseen of seizing the arch
guerilla in his bed, yet there was every promise that he would be
forced to play a hand with the cards against him,--a circumstance
which no Boer--not even De Wet--liked or understood. One such a chance
had presented itself before, when a senior influence intervened and
kept the New Cavalry Brigade from falling upon Strydenburg. In the
present case the intervention was to be made by the elements, and even
then the energy and wit of the capable soldier who was in command
brought the brigade within an ace of a success which would have made
all concerned famous in the history of this war.

At four o'clock the advance-guard opened out on the plain north of
Luckhoff, and drew the fire of the observation post on the hills
through which the trail to Koffyfontein passes. There would have been
no necessity to caution the advance-guard to slowness; and the main
body just sauntered on, while commanding officers were asking
themselves whether the brigadier was mad or inebriate to plunge into a
night march of this character when his object was only to get to
Kimberley. The good ladies of Luckhoff watched the last of the
transport disappear over the nek into the darkness of gathering night,
and then sent their eight-year-old sons or Kaffirs to recall such of
their men-folk as lay hid in the neighbouring _caches_, while the
observation post sent a galloper to the next point, that the news
might be patented that the column had taken the Kimberley road. By
sundown the head of the column had made about six miles, and a halt
was called to allow the baggage to close up. As soon as it was
sufficiently dark the change in direction was made, and the head of
the column left the road and plunged into the trackless veldt, it
being estimated that a compass bearing due east would bring it by
daybreak within easy reach of the parallelogram of hills in which
Fauresmith and Jagersfontein lie. But the favour of Providence was
withdrawn: the night, which had been born in suffocating heat,
suddenly changed to piercing cold, and great zigzags of white
lightning, clutching at the heavens like the claws of some gigantic
dragon, heralded a tempest of unwonted fury. And presently it came
preceded by a blinding sandstorm, which told how much the burnt
surface of the prairie yearned for moisture. That night it drank its
fill, for when the flood-gates burst asunder a very deluge was loosed
upon the earth. The great storm voided its burden in such rivers of
water that in a moment, in spite of waterproof and oil-skin, every man
in the force was as drenched as if he had plunged into a stream. Nor
was it a passing downfall of temporary duration. It deluged in
unbroken stream for the best part of an hour. Automatically the whole
force came to a standstill: checked, bedraggled, and miserable, it
stood it out. To advance was impossible; each depression in the veldt
was a sheet of water, in places inches deep. The whole crust of the
earth had become a sticky sodden morass, and in this mire the column
lay bogged and helpless. Guns and waggons sank axle-deep, their
drunken alignment proving that for the time being they were immobile.
Horses, mules, and oxen struggled and floundered for a foothold,
sinking with terror-stricken sobs and distressful moans until their
bellies were level with the slush. A hideous scene!

There was nothing that man could do: until such time as the natural
drainage of the plain and the parched substratum absorbed the
superfluous moisture, the brigade was as helpless as a steamer with a
broken screw-shaft. Mercifully for the staff, the catastrophe had
overtaken the brigade within a mile of a fair-sized farm; and
eventually, after much labour in the mire, the brigadier and his
immediate following were able to claim its hospitality. Luckily it was
occupied. A smiling good-natured _frau_, on the stout side of thirty,
with a bevy of girls ranging from two to twelve, was endeavouring to
cope with an inundation of sodden troopers from the advance-guard. It
was a nice farm, and to our astonishment Madam Embonpoint proved to be
an English Africander. Her husband was in St Helena, and since the
outbreak of war she had worked her husband's property single-handed.
Madam was anything but hostile; but she prayed that we would not break
into her slender store of provisions, since she had ten mouths to
feed, and the pinch of war was near at hand. Otherwise we were welcome
to such hospitality as her roof would afford us, and she was prepared
to cook and prepare for us any food we might have with us. It chanced
that the officer of the advance-guard was a captain of the Mount
Nelson Light Horse. He was one of the few in that corps who had
impressed himself favourably upon the brigadier, consequently the
chief did not burst into abusive satire when he discovered this
officer in the act of boiling a turkey in the farm kitchen. Now, in
spite of the wet and disappointment, the brigadier had lost none of
his usual gaiety of nature. It is often the case with the best
soldiers, the more adverse the circumstances the lighter their
spirits.

_Brigadier_ (_commencing to divest himself of his wet clothes in front
of the fire and pointing to the turkey_), "Honestly come by?"

_Captain_ (_closing the lid of the pot with a snap_), "Yes, sir; the
last of our tinned food, sir!"

_B._ "Seen the tin for the first time to-day, I should think. But what
are you going to do with it? You have got to clear your robbers out
of this. This is my booth for the night!"

_C._ "I realised that, sir, and I said to my subaltern that as it was
a cold night we would just open our last tin and offer it to the
general as a sign of affection, arguing that if he accepted it in the
spirit in which it was given, he would ask us both to dinner."

_B._ (_now in his shirt_), "Hearty fellows both. No man born of woman
would like a boiled turkey for dinner more than I should, in spite of
the fact that it was only killed an hour ago by a captain who should
have known better. You are both asked to dinner. Madam, had you not
better withdraw?" (_This to the lady of the house who had just
entered._)

The scene was indeed a strange one. A rough Boer kitchen lit by a
dingy dip. The light of the yellow flame impeded by "truck" suspended
from the rafters--a side of mutton, some _biltong_, strings of onions
and beetroots. In the corner a more or less modern fire-range, in
front of which stood a group of officers, comprising the brigadier,
his staff, and the two officers of the advance-guard, all in various
stages of _deshabille_, some trying to get warm, some to dry their
wringing clothes, and others to stoke the fire and boil a pot. Add to
these the plump hostess and her tribe of all-aged daughters, whom no
exposure of masculine limbs and under-dress seemed to terrify. This
did not look like catching De Wet--but then much may take place
between midnight and daybreak.

A chapter could be filled with the miseries which the troops suffered
that night, and this being the case, it would be ungracious to dilate
upon the sumptuous nature of the feast within the farmhouse. Let it
suffice that during its discussion the brigadier cast over the
situation and was ready, with the coffee which Madam Embonpoint
contributed to the entertainment, with his plan to amend the chaos
which the elements had made of his original undertaking.

_Brigadier_ (_stirring his cup thoughtfully until the hostess was out
of the room_). "Mr Intelligence, what do you make the distance between
this and the pass this side of Fauresmith?"

_Intelligence Officer._ "Three- to five-and-twenty miles, sir."

_B._ "Have you any one who knows the way?"

_I. O._ "Yes, sir, there is a man in the Light Horse who has done some
transport riding in the Southern Free State, who says he knows
something about it."

_B._ "Better and better (_turning to the captain of the
advance-guard_). Now, I am going to put you in the way of a very big
thing. You are senior captain in your corps, are you not?"

_Captain._ "Yes, sir, senior captain, adjutant, and second in command;
we have got no majors!"

_B._ "That is all right then. Well, I want you to start on at once
with two squadrons, and to push on to Fauresmith. I fancy that you
will find it has dried up a bit now, and as these storms are usually
local, it is quite possible that you may strike better going as you
get along. When you get into the hilly country about Fauresmith, go
cunning, try and get as close as you can without being seen, and find
a position from which you can hold the road leading from Fauresmith
to the Riet River. Come over here and look at the map. Now, if you get
off by midnight, you ought to make two miles an hour until daybreak.
That is twelve miles; the remaining ten you will do inside two hours.
If you are sniped, push on; but if opposed in force, do your best,
only let me know. Now, these are my plans (_pointing on the map_). You
see the parallelogram? well, you go slap-bang into it. I shall come
along as fast as I can with the ground in this condition. I shall, if
you come into touch with the enemy in force, send two squadrons and
two guns direct to the bridge over the Riet north of the
parallelogram, and two squadrons and two guns south of the
parallelogram, while I come on with the rest in your direction. Now,
your business is, first, not to let yourself be seen; secondly, so to
arrange yourself that if De Wet and his crowd get to Fauresmith before
we are up, to manoeuvre and keep him there until we arrive. It is a
difficult job, I allow; but I know that you are the man to make the
best of it. Get your men to understand that now they have the
opportunity of making a reputation. The brigade-major will give you
all this in writing. You may pick your squadrons. Now, get along, and
don't waste time!"

While the two squadrons of Mount Nelson Light Horse were picking their
way out of camp that night, and while the rest of the brigade was
turning into its miserable bivouac, the staff "bedded down" in the
drawing-room of the farmhouse. With so large a family of girls, good
Madam Embonpoint could only arrange one spare bedroom, and that was
reserved for the brigadier; but the rest dragged their sopping valises
into the parlour and trusted to get five hours' sleep before a
daylight start....

To add to the chagrin of the brigade, and to further demonstrate the
singular Providence which ever seemed to attend De Wet in his
movements, even unto the eleventh hour, it was found that the force
had bivouacked on the very fringe of the storm. As is so often the
case with these South African storms, the rigour of the downfall was
local, and while the brigade had been so badly caught that it was
practically impossible for the teams to move the guns without the aid
of drag-ropes, half a mile away the surface of the veldt was
unaffected and the going good. This discovery caused the day to dawn
with brighter prospects, and as soon as the sodden column, free of its
transport, felt the sounder bottom, it shook itself as would a
retriever after a swim, and settled down to a swinging drying-trot.
The brigadier had theories on the methods to be employed in the kind
of war-game with which he was confronted; and he determined, if
possible, to be in front of the Boer pickets and observation-posts,
realising that two circumstances were in his favour. The concentration
ordered for Philippolis should have reduced the strength of the Boer
watchmen, and the rain of the preceding night, while rendering
sentinels less inclined for the bitter vigil of early morning, had
laid the tell-tale dust, which, as a rule, is the greatest impediment
to secret movement. He threw out a troop to go very wide on either
flank, in order to serve the double purpose of capturing any shirking
Boer pickets which might chance to be alarmed at the later arrival of
the transport column, and of guarding against De Wet's commando
slipping past across the back trail. As the daylight strengthened, and
showed that the going improved, everything pointed to a successful
ride on the part of the two squadrons which had been pushed forward in
the night. By seven o'clock the men had begun to dry, and as the
object of the hunt leaked out, a general improvement was apparent in
the spirits of the force.

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