CHAPTER V

MAFEKING

There was an immense amount of undiscovered genius in Mafeking till Colonel Baden-Powell brought it to the front. The art of making ball-cartridges out of blank, and the manufacture of gunpowder, cannon, shells, fuses, postage stamps, bank notes, and a strategetic railway, served to occupy and amuse those whose days were an unending round of monotony. The Colonel's vigilance, that in other times had earned for him the Matabele title of "'Mpeesi, the wolf that never sleeps," communicated itself to all, and it was to this general spirit of alertness that the success of the garrison's sturdy defence was due. But on their hearts despond was setting its seal; young faces were becoming lined with anxiety, and even those whose dramatic powers enabled them to feign merriment were conscious that the effort was becoming even more pathetic than resignation to their fate.

Young Eloff, who had gallantly volunteered to subdue Mafeking or die in the attempt, beguiled the interval in preparing for his feat of chivalry by indulging in a mild form of jocosity. He informed Colonel Baden-Powell that he had heard of his Sabbath concerts, tournaments, and cricket matches, and would be glad, as it was dull outside, to come in and participate in them. The Colonel replied in the same vein--begged to postpone a return match till the present one was finished, and suggested as they were now 200 not out, and Snyman and Cronje had been unsuccessful, a further change of bowling might be advantageous! In reality the young Boer was racking his brains with plans for the future, getting information regarding the forts and defences, and deciding when the time came for assault to do the thing with a flash and a flourish!

And his ambition was not entirely groundless, for things were coming to a sorry pass, and the tension grew daily more severe. It was necessary to be eternally pushing out trenches and capturing forts in order to secure grazing and breathing space, but this action had the result of so extending the lines, that the problem of how to protect ten miles of perimeter against some 2000 Boers, with only 700 men, became harder than ever to grapple with. Fortunately there was still an inner line, but even this was difficult to guard, now that the gallant seven hundred were reduced in stamina by long privation and immediate famine.

A great deal of irritation was caused by pilfering and house-breaking that went on. As the men were in the trenches and the women in the women's laagers, all the ill-conditioned vagabonds, the human sauria that had trailed from the Rand and Bulawayo, at the hint of loot "made hay" while there was no police at liberty to cope with them. Every hand in Mafeking had been required, and the police had been forced to become soldiers, defenders of the state and not of private property. And well they had done their work! For over six months some 2000 to 3000 Boers had found fodder here for their eight guns, including a 9-pounder. They had been kept stationary, and thus prevented from combining with the Tuli column, or invading Rhodesia, or joining forces with any of the aggressive commandos in the south. And this wonderful arrest had been accomplished by men who at the beginning of hostilities were practically unarmed and unfortified. It was no marvel, therefore, that President Kruger and his advisers, who had started their fell work with such confidence, now began to wag their heads in acridity and dismay. The overweening bumptiousness of the several commandants who, full of buoyant and bellicose aspirations, had attempted the subjugation of Mafeking, had been their undoing. These had become the laughing-stock even of their own people.

Commandant Cronje early in the war had been so convinced of his ability to capture Mafeking that he had caused a proclamation to be printed annexing the district to the South African Republic. But he had found it a disastrous place, and had left it with some loss of prestige, as had many others who had attempted "to do the trick" and failed. Until this date the Boers had expended considerably over 100 tons of ammunition, lost over 1000 men killed and wounded, and had four guns disabled, yet nothing was accomplished.

Commandant Eloff was then specially deputed by Kruger to pulverise "B.P.", and came to his work in high spirits accompanied by a man--a deserter--who, having served as a trooper in the Protectorate Regiment, was well acquainted with the plans of the fortifications and the military customs of the place. Of course, it was the object of the youthful commandant to make an attack as speedily as possible, for rumours of approaching relief threatened to put an end to his machinations and spoil his ambitious scheme. He knew that a relief column had reached and was advancing from Setlagoli, and that what had to be done must be done now or never. Still he had a notion that after passing Kraaipan any journey for troops would be arid, waterless, and discomforting, and believed that the column might be cut off before it could offer serious opposition to his plans.

Commandant Snyman, on his side, was as depressed as his colleague was jaunty. He was scarcely flattered to find a youngster determining to solve a problem which for a considerable time had defeated him, and therefore at the onset, in regard to the momentous plans for attack, the two commandants were scarcely at one. The rift widened as affairs developed. Indeed, in letters which subsequently passed between the pair, it was discovered that Eloff, to use his own words, "had been preparing to trip him up for years." This Snyman must evidently have known, and determined to show--as he did when the opportunity offered--that "two could play at that game." At this time, however, though the trail of the green and yellow monster might have been seen winding about the Boer laagers, there was no suspicion that when combined action against the common enemy--the British--would be needed the older commandant would fail the younger one.

Curiously enough, though at the instance of the Boers the Sunday truce had been agreed upon, they were the first to break through the compact. On the 6th of May, while the usual auction sales were taking place, and the ladies were cautiously doing their weekly shopping, an affair of some moment since prices ruled high, the rattle of musketry betrayed that something was wrong. It was then discovered that the Boers had fired on the horse guard, killing Trooper Franch, and wounding three horses, and causing a stampede of the herd towards their own lines. Fortunately the ever-wary B. P. kept a machine gun in the valley, and a sharp engagement took place, but nevertheless the Boers succeeded in capturing some of the all too precious cattle. The affair was soon over and the terrified ladies continued their shopping, but the incident was sufficient to demonstrate that soon, if the Boers should fail to succeed by fair means, they would have recourse to foul.

At last, on the 12th of May, came the great, the long-looked-for assault. It was not yet dawn, the stars were still blinking pallidly, when an ominous crackling awoke the town. It came from the east, where rosy tints of the sunrise were beginning to show themselves. At once every one was astir. The alarm bugle blared out, bells sounded, forms all sketchily attired, some still in pyjamas, rushed to their posts.

Though the bullets came from the east, whizzing and phutting into the market-square, Colonel Baden-Powell, with his natural astuteness, declared that the real attack would come not from there but from the west, the corner where stood the stadt of the Baralongs. All got their horses ready, armed themselves with whatever came to hand, and fled precipitately out into the nipping air of the morning. For an hour this brisk fusillade continued, then at about 5.30 there was a lull. The sun now was slowly beginning to rise, reddening the east with vivid blushes. But the colonel's eyes were fixed on the west, and there sure enough was what at first seemed a reflection of the sunrise--a tremendous flaming mirage surmounted by dense volumes of smoke, and accompanied by a weird stentorian crackling commingled with yells discordant, and despairing lamentations from the direction of the native village. There was no doubt about it, the stadt was ablaze! whether by accident or design none at that moment could decide. Away went the guns, after them the Bechuanaland Rifles, rushing to the fray; and then on the morning breeze came a strange sound--cheers--but not British cheers--cheers that sent a thrill of horror through all who anxiously awaited the upshot of the encounter. It was scarcely to be credited, but it was the truth! The enemy had arrived! They were already in the fort that was held by Colonel Hore and his staff! They were not 500 yards off! At this time, though the bullets from the east fell less thickly, those from the west began to pour in, and through this cross fire the besieged rushed to their several destinations. Women, distracted, fled hither and thither; men shot and shouted and gave orders. Columns of smoke and cascades of sparks told the tale of conflagration, and natives scared, babbling, panic-stricken, tore through the streets.

There was just cause for alarm. The evil hour had come. The Boers had reached the orderly-room which stood outside the Kaffirs' stadt. The clerk, finding himself surrounded, hurriedly telephoned to the Colonel, "The Boers are all in among us." Such news it was almost impossible to credit, and the Colonel put his ear to the telephone. Then the sound of Dutch voices convinced him of the horrible truth. The next thing was a message saying that the Boers had taken Colonel Hore and his force prisoners, and that the British were powerless to help them. Telephonic communication was immediately destroyed with wire-pliers, but a state of consternation prevailed. It was perfectly true that Colonel Hore was powerless, as with his small force of twenty-three all told it was impossible to guard the many outbuildings that surrounded him against such overwhelming numbers, particularly as at first in the dusk it had been impossible to distinguish whether the advancing men were foes or friends.

All--young and old, men and even women--were madly rushing to the front, all eager to check the Boers in their wild rush forward. The prisoners in the jail were let loose and armed to join in the common duty, small boys seized weapons, shovels or pokers for want of anything better, and invited themselves to help to turn the invaders out. A singular cheeriness prevailed; the sniff of battle exhilarated, intoxicated them; they swore to protect Mafeking or die in the attempt!

Meanwhile the dashing Eloff, who so long had boasted that he would bring Mafeking to her knees, had at last achieved something of a success. The fort was seized. He and his band of 700 men had advanced up the Molopo, burnt the stadt as a signal to his allies, and thus made an entry. The storming party was composed mostly of foreigners, and numbered some 300 all told. Many of them were Frenchmen, who, when they emerged from Hidden Hollow and rushed on Colonel Hore's fort, were heard to be shouting "Fashoda! Fashoda!" while such Boers as could speak English were sent in front to roar "Hip, hip, hurrah! Relieved at last!" so as to deceive the besieged with the idea that the relief column was arriving. Behind were 500 burghers, with Snyman, in support; but when they heard the firing they discreetly waited to see the result, and through their discretion Eloff eventually lost what he had gained. The Baralongs, whose stadt was burning, and who themselves were burning for revenge, had permitted some 300 of the party to seize the outlying forts, and then, with an astuteness peculiar to them, decided they would get between the Dutchmen and their supports, and "kraal them up like cattle." But this was not done in a moment.

To return. When the storming party had reached the fort, they broke up into three. One hundred and fifty of them attacked the fort and seized it, together with the Colonel and twenty-three men of the Protectorate Regiment, who, mistaking them in the dusk of the early dawn for friends, had not fired. When they found out their mistake, it was too late.

Regarding Colonel Hore's lamentable position and his surrender, the correspondent of the _Times_, who had the ill luck as a man and the good luck as a journalist to get taken prisoner, said: "Commandant Eloff demanded the unconditional surrender of the twenty-three men who were established at the fort, an order which, had Colonel Hore refused, implied that every man with him would be shot. The exigencies of the situation had thus suddenly thrown upon the shoulders of this very gallant officer an almost overwhelming responsibility. It was impossible to withdraw to the town. Such a movement would have meant retirement over 700 yards of open, level ground without a particle of cover, and with a force of 300 of the enemy immediately in the rear. For a moment Colonel Hore had considered, but realising that escape was impossible, that indeed the Boers were all round him, he ordered the surrender, accepting the responsibility of such an act in the hope of saving the lives of the men who were with him. But the situation imperatively demanded this action in consequence of events over which he had no control. It was, perhaps, a moment as pathetic and great as any in his career, which, honourable and distinguished as it has been, has brought to him some six medals. The surrender was effected at 5.25 A.M., and the news of such a catastrophe did not tend to relieve the gravity of the situation. With the Boers in the fort and in occupation of the stadt, it was necessary so to arrange our operations that any junction between the stadt and the fort would be impossible. At the same time we were compelled to prevent those Boers who were in the stadt from cutting their way through to the main body of the enemy. The situation was indeed complex, and throughout the remainder of the day the skirmishing in the stadt and the repulse of the feints of the enemy's main body, delivered in different directions against the outposts, were altogether apart from the siege which we were conducting within our own investment. From the town very heavy rifle fire was directed upon the fort, which the Boers in that quarter returned with spirit and determination. But the position in the stadt had become acute, since behind our outposts and our inner chain of forts, which are situated upon its exterior border, were a rollicking, roving band of 400 Boers, who for the time being were indulging in pillage and destruction wherever it was possible."

For those inside the fort the tension was extreme. Colonel Hore, with Captain Singleton, Veterinary Lieutenant Dunlop Smith, fifteen non-commissioned officers and men of the Protectorate Regiment, Captain Williams and three men of the South Africa Police, and some native servants, were packed in by a crowd of the enemy, while a babel of tongues--German, French, Italian, Dutch--made a clamour that obfuscated the senses. Many of the Boers were busy looting, breaking open anything that came to hand in the officers' quarters, notwithstanding the remonstrances of their allies, the foreigners. Trooper Hayes, a deserter from the Protectorate Regiment, who was well acquainted with the fortifications, and had led Eloff into the town, swaggered about in the presence of the prisoners adorned with Colonel Hore's sword, and his watch and chain. His desire to get rid of as many of the British as possible was shown by his suggestion that they should stand on the verandah as a mark for their own men. Through the long hours the prisoners were cabined and confined in a very limited space, listening to the progress of the battle which still raged outside, and hearing the hail of bullets, hostile and friendly, that spluttered and splintered around the fort. It was a dreadful day of suspense and agony. Food was handed in, but water, owing to the tanks having been perforated by bullets, was scarce, and the sufferings of the wounded, both Britons and Boers, were horrible. Bravely Mr. Dunlop Smith and his assistants responded to the call of Eloff to assist the wounded Boers, and nobly they risked their lives over and over again, running the gantlet of the British fire in the service of their fellow-creatures.

Meanwhile Baden-Powell's braves had surrounded the fort, and managed to make a vigorous stand against further encroachment of the enemy, while skirmishing of a more or less desperate kind was taking place in the direction of the stadt, round the kraal, and a kopje in its vicinity.

The capture of the kraal and surroundings by Major Godley, Captain Marsh, and Captain Fitzclarence was ingeniously accomplished. They had not taken lessons in Boer warfare for six months for nothing, consequently, instead of making themselves targets for the foe, they crept towards the walls, bored loopholes with their bayonets, and poured their fire on the invaders. These fought pluckily, but presently came the artillery, and directly the order was given to commence fire the enemy thought it high time to surrender. Then came the question of the fort, where Colonel Hore was still the prisoner of Eloff. Brisk and accurate firing took place, and so hot was the attack that many of the British were wounded by their own people. The victorious Eloff and his party, cut off from his supports and devoid of the assistance reckoned on from Snyman, now found his position as conqueror highly unenviable. Night was coming on, and many of his party struggled to slink out and desert him, but he fired on them and left their dead bodies to add to the confusion. Finally, as there was no help from without, Eloff--surrounded by Colonel Baden-Powell's troops--did the only thing that could be done in the circumstances--he surrendered to his own prisoner, Colonel Hore. Thereupon, he, and others of his gang, numbering 110, including Baron de Bremont, Captain von Weissmann, and several field-cornets, were deprived of their arms and marched into the town, to be accommodated in the Masonic Hall and in the jail. Their appearance was greeted with courteous silence and a certain admiration for the daring of the attack, but the exuberance of the Kaffirs was uncheckable, and they hooted lustily. They had suffered much at the hands of their tormentors, and in this, their hour of triumph, they would not be denied. Of the Boers, 110 were prisoners, 10 were killed, and 19 wounded. It was supposed that other corpses may have been dragged away and disposed of by the natives, who thus got possession of rifles, which weapons had been refused them by the British.

The British casualties were:--

_Killed._--Lieutenant Phillips, Trooper Maltuschek, Trooper Duberley. _Wounded._--Captain Singleton, Lieutenant G. Bridges, Sergeant Hoskings, Regimental Sergeant-Major S. Malley--all of the Protectorate Regiment; Hazelrigg, Cape Police; Smidt, Town Guard.

Sergeant-Major Heale, in charge of the Dutch prisoners, an esteemed member of the garrison, was killed by a shell. Of Trooper Maltuschek, a few words written by Major Baillie deserve to be quoted, as showing the manner of man and Briton he was. It appears that the gallant fellow absolutely declined to surrender, and fought till he was killed. "It wasn't a case of dashing in and dashing out and having your fun and a fight; it was a case of resolution to die sooner than throw down your arms; the wisdom may be questionable, the heroism undoubted. He wasn't taking any surrender. As far as I am concerned, I have seen the British assert their superiority over foreigners before now, but this man, in my opinion, though I did not see him die, was the bravest man who fought on either side that day. It is a good thing to be an Englishman. These foreigners start too quick and finish quicker. They are good men, but we are better, and have proved so for several hundred years. I had always wanted to see the Englishman fight in a tight hole, and I know what he is worth now. He can outstay the other chap." In these last words is the whole summing up of the story of battle. In Mafeking, particularly on this terrific day, the British men--and women--had "outstayed the other chap."

The reason that the loss after so many hours' fighting was comparatively insignificant, was owing to the fact that the garrison was so splendidly handled, and that every soul, ladies included, took a plucky share in the work. Lady Sarah Wilson, Mrs. Buchan, Miss Crawford, and Miss Hill, the matron of the hospital, all distinguished themselves by their plucky actions; and Mrs. Winter and Mrs. Bradley were indefatigable in ministering to the wants of the men. Even the most peaceful beings became bellicose in the common cause, and Reuter's correspondent gave an amusing account of how Mr. Whales, the editor of the _Mafeking Mail_, who was exceedingly plucky but quite unacquainted with military matters, comported himself in the dire emergency. When the railway workshops were manned Mr. Whales got a gun to help; but every time he discharged it, it hit him on the nose, with the result that when all was over, he returned to the bosom of his family covered with his own blood!

Of course this was merely a passing jocosity, for the same chronicler declared that "the most interesting phase of the fight was the manner in which every one in the town showed himself ready to take his share in its defence. The seven months' siege had left very few cowards. All sorts of men who have staff billets and do not generally man the forts seized rifles and hurried to the railway line, the jail, and the workshops, resolved to die in the last ditch, which was the railway line, within three hundred yards of the market-square, the enemy being only five hundred yards below the line." He further said, "It is customary in London rather to look down on town guards, Volunteers, and citizen soldiers, but it was by these that the town was held and Commandant Eloff was beaten."

Strange tales were told in that eventful day of the kind treatment meted out to the Boers. They were given clean towels and soap (the latter was at first mistaken for an eatable), and tended like brothers, while all the past aggravations endured at their hands were forgotten or at least ignored. The prisoners, wounded or sound, were greeted almost affectionately by the town. Such drink as there was was shared, and for the time being, amid the general jubilation, at the close of the melodramatic episodes of the day it was difficult to decide which were the happier, friend or foe. Thus generously wrote Mr. Angus Hamilton of the enemy: "We who had been prisoners and were now free rejoiced in the liberty which was restored to us, yet it was difficult to restrain oneself from feeling compassionately upon the great misfortunes which had attended the extraordinary dash and gallantry of the men who were now our prisoners. They had done their best. They had proved to us that they were indeed capable, and that we should have kept a sharper look-out, while it was indeed deplorable to think that it was the treachery of their own general in abandoning them to their fate, that had been mainly instrumental in procuring them their present predicament."

Sergeant Stuart's account of his experiences was curious. On the morning that Eloff entered, he heard shooting at the east end of the town, and sprang out of bed, "shoved" on a coat, and seized his rifle. When he got out he saw flames at the west end, and ran across the open towards the fort. When he came nearer he saw 400 Boers looking over a wall. They cried out, 'Up hands! surrender.' He was within forty yards, so he turned and bolted. They fired but did not touch him, and he reached the fort. He surrendered soon after, with Colonel Hore and twenty-four others. They were put into a little hut, and kept there all day, firing going on all round. At 6 P.M. Eloff came into the room--about six feet square--and leant against the door, and said, 'Where is Colonel Hore?' 'There he is.' 'I surrender,' said Eloff, 'if you will spare our lives and stop the firing.' The prisoners then sprang up and took their rifles from them, making them their prisoners. Another authority declared that when Eloff was taken before Colonel Baden-Powell, that officer with his customary ease received him affably, and merely said, "Come and have dinner; I am just about to have mine!" Certain it is that Commandant Eloff, Captain von Weissmann, and Captain Bremont were entertained at headquarters.

WITH COLONEL MAHON'S FORCE

There were whispers in Bloemfontein, there were whispers in Kimberley, there were whispers in Natal. Secretly a scheme, originated by Sir Archibald Hunter (commanding Tenth Division), for the relief of Mafeking was being organised, and the action was to be started so that the movements of the flying column formed for the purpose should synchronise with Lord Roberts's great advance on Pretoria. The Imperial Light Horse (Colonel Edwards) whose laurels had grown green in the harsh nursery of Ladysmith, were brought over from Natal; the Diamond Fields Horse, and the Kimberley Light Horse (Colonel King), who had developed into veterans to the tune of the Kamferdam big gun, were marked down for the dashing enterprise. Some picked men--twenty-five from each of the four battalions of Barton's Fusilier Brigade, under Captain Carr (7th Royals)--were also included among the "braves" who were to form part of Mahon's flying column, and M Battery R.H.A., under Major Jackson.

The object of the flying column was to fly, but at the same time it behoved the expedition to be discreet in its rush, for any advance that could not provide convoy, stores, and medical comfort for the relief would have ended in a showy demonstration which would have been more embarrassing to the besieged than satisfactory. It was necessary to go well laden, and thus keep together the body and soul of Mafeking, and the party of rescuers were immovable till General Hunter, slower and surer in his progress, should have advanced along the railway and repaired the line. It was also imperative to avoid, if possible, any collision with the enemy till Mafeking should be neared, and there was a chance of co-operation by Colonel Plumer's and Colonel Baden-Powell's men.

The organisation of the transport was therefore a very serious undertaking, one which engaged all the attention of Major Money, R.A., for over a week, and which involved indescribable labour. Major Money's qualifications as an organiser have been described as second only to those of Colonel Ward, the "Universal Provider" of Ladysmith. Assisting also was Captain Cobbe (Bengal Lancers), who had been laboriously engaged in transport work both in Naauwpoort and Kimberley.

Efforts to maintain secrecy regarding the movement of the force were many, and all connected with the programme were vowed to silence regarding the objective of the march; yet, for all that, the Boers knew when it had started, indeed they declared that a week before the event, the Mafeking besiegers had heard of the project, and were firmly convinced of their ability to cut off the party at Roodoo's Rand, or failing that, to smash it up at a point nearer its destination.

The Imperial Horse quietly encamped at Dronfield in order to excite as little suspicion as possible, then followed M Battery R.H.A., under Major Jackson, and two "pom-poms" under Captain Robinson. Meanwhile some of the Imperial Yeomanry and Kimberley Volunteers sprayed out over the region of Barkly West and Spitzkop, in order to clear the way for the advancing column. At Dronfield also the transport work was carried on, fifty-five waggons being loaded by Major Weil and Sir John Willoughby, both zealous officers, who were full of keenness in the undertaking; while the De Beers community, whose ardour in Imperial matters was proved, continued to throw themselves heart and soul into the great scheme. Twenty waggons contained stores; five, medical comforts; and the rest were loaded with the wherewithal to feed 1100 men and 1200 horses.

At Barkley West was Colonel Mahon, with Colonel Rhodes as intelligence officer. Major Baden-Powell, Scots Guards, the brother of the hero of Mafeking; Captain Bell-Smythe, the brigade major; Prince Alexander of Teck, Sir John Willoughby, Major Maurice Gifford--the one-armed soldier of Matabele fame--were also among the select number, whose good fortune it was to engage in the exciting enterprise.

The column slowly moved out on a nine miles' march to Greefputs, which was, so to speak, the official starting-point--a grand force composed of some of the smartest men of the colony and in the pink of condition!

From the latter place to Spitzkop, a distance of nineteen miles, the column moved on the morning of the 5th of May. About mid-day the troops had intended to advance, but a rumour of Boers in the distance arrested their progress. On the east, ten miles off, could be heard the knocking of General Hunter's guns and some Boerish retorts, and somewhere, in kopjes in the vicinity, were rebels or Dutchmen--at least so it was said, but after a brisk search the road was reported clear, and the march proceeded, through the blistering sunshine, over the scorching western plains to a place called Warwick's Store, and from thence, after a halt for refreshment, on to Gunning Store, a total distance of thirty-five miles. As may be imagined the cool of the moon-blue night was refreshing to the toasted wanderers, and still more refreshing was the capture of two waggon-loads of rebels and their Mausers. Time was not wasted for much slumber or much breakfasting, and by 6 A.M. on the 6th the column was proceeding on its way towards Espach Drift on the left bank of the Harts River. The nine miles' journey was accomplished by 9.30, where the column outspanned till 2.30. At that hour they started to complete their twenty miles in the sunshine, which landed them at Banks Drift--a deep drift where watering the horses was no easy matter. In this locality, called Greefdale Store, wood was scarce, but still the troops were within stone's throw of food, and were able to supplement the scanty rations which had been cut down to the smallest possible figure. The daily allowance was not sumptuous. A great deal of valour and cheeriness had to be sustained on ½ lb. of meat, ¾ lb. of biscuit, 2 oz. of sugar, 1/3 oz. of coffee, and 1/6 oz. of tea. When fresh meat could be captured a change of diet was seized as a relief, and loot from rebels helped to fill the growing vacuum. In certain localities fowls and bread were purchasable. In others beer made a welcome variety to the daily quantum of grog--a tot of rum or lime juice--but really substantial meals were few and far between.

An unfortunate occurrence blighted the day's proceedings. Major Baden-Powell, who, full of rejoicing, was going to the rescue of his brother, met with a nasty accident. His horse in crossing the deep sand of the veldt bungled, and the Major sustained injuries which made him unconscious for some hours. Happily he recovered with the elasticity of his race, and there was no fear that Colonel Baden-Powell's hope, expressed in December,[5] would fail to be gratified.

From Greefdale, on the 7th, the column marched to Muchadin, moving on the right bank of Harts River. Nothing eventful occurred, and the rest of the twenty miles was traversed by 5 P.M. They were now some miles to west of Taungs. This region was found to be evacuated by the Dutchmen, though remains of their recent occupation were evident. The railway station was taken possession of by Major Mullins and a squadron of the Imperial Light Horse. Telegrams were found giving valuable insight into the Dutch moves, and showing that the Boers were lying in wait near Pudimoe, the place--encrusted with menacing rows of kopjes--that the column was about to approach on the morrow.

Next day the column was on the move earlier than usual. Before dawn all were astir, and the distance from Taungs to Pudimoe, twelve miles, was covered by 8.30 A.M. The Boers were invisible. They were ensconced somewhere, with intent to pounce, it was certain, but Colonel Mahon determined, if possible, to avoid imbroglio till the finish. At 10 the troops were moving on to a place called Dry Harts Siding, which was reached at noon. But there was little rest, for on this day twenty-eight miles were covered, ten miles being marched in the cool of the evening. At 9 P.M. under the blinking stars, they outspanned at a place called Brussels Farm, where food--hot food, ardently desired and eagerly stowed away--was plentiful.

The next morning the force was on its way to Vryburg, doing eight miles before 9 A.M. They took up the thread of their travels at noon, marched another thirteen miles, and found themselves by tea-time at the desired and welcome haven of rest. The stores were at once invaded, and creature comforts were purchased at heavy rates. The British were received with some show of enthusiasm. In the little white town margined with aromatic, emerald-leafed pepper trees banners waved and Union Jacks fluttered, and passers-by came in for a handshake with men of their own kind, who invited them to "pot-luck." Some of a commando that had been lurking in the vicinity of Pudimoe now trickled in and surrendered; other members of the Dutch conspiracy turned informer, while the loyal British subjects, who had declined to rebel to order of the Boers, poured out their experiences. One of them declared that during the Boer reign in the town British ladies who had remained there were not permitted to walk on the causeway, a regulation that in the Transvaal had previously been confined to Kaffirs! In other respects, beyond despoiling the police camp and the former Bechuanaland Residency, the Boers had done little harm.

A leaf from the diary of a member of the Scots Fusiliers describes this halt in a town which was somewhat Janus-faced in its loyalty:--

"_9th May._--I awoke much refreshed by my good night's rest. 5.30 A.M.--On the march. The ground being densely shrubby, many halts have to be made to allow the scouts to reconnoitre the front. 10 A.M.--Roodepoort. We are now nine miles from Vryburg. Water and rations are, as usual, scarce. 11 A.M.--'Halloa! what the deuce is this?' A gaily decorated carriage with three pretty maidens! 'Well, I never! what can they want!' Oh, thank you, as they gracefully throw us some loaves of lovely white bread, and with the most charming of smiles welcome us to Vryburg. 'Bravo,' my bonny lassies! had it not been for my uncouth apparel and bristly whiskers, 'a kiss,' I should have vaunted you. 12 noon.--So the Boers have fled from Vryburg! What an infernal pack of cowards, and no mistake! All the better for us; the less opposition the sooner at our journey's end. 2 P.M.--We continue the march. 5 P.M.--Vryburg. An enthusiastic crowd of supposed loyalists greet our arrival with cheers. Somehow their welcome is not at all appreciated. Most of them are Dutch, and, considering the Boers have been amongst them until two days ago, we fail to see what loyalty they could have established for us in so short a time. 7 P.M.--On outpost; an exceedingly cold night."

But whatever the sentiments of the people, there was decent food and a brief chance of comfortably partaking of it, and there was a sigh when the enjoyable time came to an end, and Vryburg, with its apology for civilisation, its costly meals and inferior cigars, so highly appreciated in those days of sparse comfort, had to be left behind. Farewell drinks--beer, gin and lime-juice, green chartreuse, tea--were disposed of, and then from five till midnight the steady march onwards was pursued. The conditions of the march, if nothing worse, were uncomfortable. No man dared betray his presence with the whiff of a cigar; and after the sun-scorchings of the baking African day, the searching, chill air of the moonlit veldt nipped the bones and filled the frame with aguish apprehensions. So cold were the nights that some declared they had to sleep walking up and down to save themselves from being frozen. Still, through it all, every member of the gallant band remembered the glorious object of his mission, and, when inclined to growl, packed away personal irritations and meditated on the number of hours which would elapse before London would be ringing with the news of the great relief. Every soul of this goodly company was swelling with pride and satisfaction at having the good luck to be among those chosen for the spirited exploit, and it was this pride, this almost heroic afflatus, which served to cast into insignificance the thousand and one inconveniences, trying to constitution and to temper, which were involved in this momentous if fatiguing march. It is true, bullet and shell were as yet only in the near future, but the aggravations of these, as all men agreed, were not to be compared with the sustained fret of marching under unrelenting sunshine, sleeping in violent chills, eating irresponsive biscuit, tackling "bully" without the assistance of a hatchet as a mincer; and enduring through all a parching thirst, a perpetual craving for water, which, when found, bred a loathly suspicion of the imps of enteric and dysentery that might lurk therein. As Mr. Stuart of the _Morning Post_ declared: "To go through ten or a dozen of our days uncomplainingly was a higher test of manhood than to fight, howsoever gallantly. To stand to arms an hour before sunrise, possibly to march for hours without a cup of coffee in the empty stomach, possibly to do patrol or picket as soon as the outspan place was selected, to return barely in time for a wad of stringy beef and some chunks of biscuit, to march again across the sand or over lumpy grass, so tired that at every halt they lay at their horses' feet dozing till the unwelcome 'Stand to your horses' was called, to go to bed without fire, without the last sleepy pipe: that was often what Mahon's men called a day."

It is well to emphasise what may be called the greys and drabs and neutral tints that go to the making up of a complete picture of heroism; it is imperative to appreciate the superb nuances which in their very retirement and unostentatious inconspicuousness made the background to now immemorial scenes in our nation's history. There are so many who have contributed their tiny inch of fine neutral tint, their little all of patience and self-abnegation to make up this background--infinitesimal atoms in the great machinery, whose names and histories are enveloped in the vast dust bosom of the veldt, yet who, unknown and unsung, have contributed the "mickle" which has made the "muckle" belonging to the Empire. The ruminations of a soldier, who, rolled up in his overcoat, was struggling to sleep, shows the pathetic side of the brilliant undertaking: "Horses and mules are dropping down from sheer exhaustion, unfit for further service. They are left on the veldt a prey to the hungry vultures.... I shudder as I inwardly apply the case to myself, how perhaps in years to come, when of no more use to my country, I am left, like those poor creatures, to the mercy of an ungrateful world, or, worse still, thrown as a pauper into some home of destitution."

On the 11th they were early astir in the dewy air of the morning, moving across open country to Majana Mabili, which was reached at 7.30 A.M., and on from this place after tea, on and on for eleven miles, till the stars began to shimmer, and moon to light the open veldt. The night was spent at a spot known as the "Hill without Water," a name sufficiently inhospitable and repellent.

Nearly the whole of the 12th was spent in marching, with short periods for rest, from Jacobspan to Setlagoli, the latter part of the way over infamous roads, drifts, and stretches of sand, ledged with limestone and other impediments disastrous to cattle and to the tempers of their owners. However, the reception in Setlagoli compensated for many discomforts, for at the hotel, the proprietor of which was a Scotsman, there was fat fare and "a true Scots welcome," which in other words means that the company regaled themselves at the expense of mine host, who refused to accept any equivalent for his hospitality! During the day some sad scenes had occurred, scenes so pathetic that they touched the hearts of the rank and file in the pursuance of their duty. One of them said, "Some Dutch farmers who had been brought in by our scouts as suspects, were followed by their wives and children. Undoubtedly the poor women thought that after examination by the chief officer they would be allowed to return with them. As it was, however, we had some very clever detectives with us, who unfortunately caused them to be handed over to the guard as prisoners. The women in their extreme anguish at seeing their husbands about to be separated from them, rushed in amongst us, flung their arms around their necks, and refused to leave them. The scene that followed was a pitiful one, and not until the convoy had gone some distance on its way did their heart-rending cries cease to be heard."

On Sunday the 13th of May the plot began to thicken. Colonel Mahon, as we are aware, had been reserving himself, knowing that the nearer he came to his destination, the more certain was he of repeated tussles with the enemy. Native scouts now informed him the Dutchmen were assembling at Maribogo, hanging round Kraaipan Siding, and lurking in their hundreds in the frowning kopjes that fringed the nek near Koodoo's Rand. Precautions were taken, and all remembered the Mafeking besiegers had bragged of their intention to cut off the party at Koodoo's Rand. The Light Horse, in very extended columns of squadrons, provided the advance and the scouts, and the transport moved in five parallel columns. Nothing as yet was seen of the Boers, and the troops reached a point nine miles off, called Brodie's Farm, in safety. Here they watered their horses, and rested till the early afternoon. Here they were joined by an officer who had ridden from Colonel Plumer's force, which, acting on information received, had by then reached Canea. Three questions were forwarded from Colonel Plumer. First, he wished to know the number of Colonel Mahon's men; second, his guns; third, the amount of his supplies. It became necessary to concoct a reply which should defeat the curiosity of the Boers, and to that end Colonel Mahon and Colonel Rhodes put their astute heads together, with the result that for the number of men they answered, _The Naval and Military Club multiplied by ten_ (94 Piccadilly). The number of guns was described as _The number of brothers in the Ward family_ (six); and the amount of supplies was represented by _The C.O., 9th Lancers_ (Small, Little). It was now decided that both Colonels--the relieving officers--should join hands at Jan Massibi's, Colonel Mahon's plan being to make a detour to the north-west of his route and thus surprise the enemy, who imagined he would come straight by way of Wright's Farm.

Now came a critical moment. The column moved out from Brodie's Farm in the afternoon, and had scarcely started before they became aware that Boers were slinking everywhere, behind trees, in the scrub, in the dried grass of the veldt. They had been so admirably concealed that the Imperial Light Horse scouts had ridden beyond them. Now, however, when they began to blaze away with rifles from the scrub, the scouts turned upon them, caught them in the rear, while in front they were greeted with such warm volleys that they made for their horses, which had been deftly hidden in the bush. Others of their number strove to get a chance of enfilading the convoy, which was promptly diverted from its course to the left, while the guns galloped to the rescue, and took up a position that commanded the open ground to the right, and here blazed away, pouring cascades of shrapnel whenever the smoke from the Dutchmen's Mausers gave them a clue to the whereabouts of the hostile weapons, and a chance to put in some execution. Meanwhile, the Boers were firing fast and furious at the gunners, and awaiting reinforcements which were spurring across the far distance. The Imperial Light Horse, dashing as ever, were pouring volleys into the enemy, and sweeping them towards the British 12-pounders, and there was a good half-hour's brisk interchange of aggressions, much of the fighting being done on foot and at fairly close quarters. The pom-poms also rapped out a warning tune, and the smart Light Horse, now riding, now dismounted, hunted the foe across the ochreous grass of the veldt, keeping him perpetually on the run, or "winging" him so that he could run no more. Meanwhile Colonel King, on the right rear with his Kimberley men, assisted in the fight, and finally after much volleying and sniping the Dutchmen took themselves off. But the brilliant skirmish was not without its penalties, for twenty-one men were wounded, while six--including a native driver who had been knocked from his waggon in the course of the fray--were killed. Major Mullins of the Light Horse was seriously injured in the spine, an unlucky incident, following, as it did, on the loss to the gallant regiment of Major Wools Sampson and Major Doveton. Corporal Davis of A Squadron was hit, but managed even afterwards to do considerable damage among the Boers. Mr. Hands, the correspondent of the _Daily Mail_, sustained a compound fracture of the thigh, and Major Baden-Powell narrowly escaped, so narrowly, indeed, that his watch was stopped and a whistle twisted in his pocket by the force of the bullet. Captain Mullins, Kimberley Mounted Corps, was also injured.

After their exhilarating and successful conflict it was decided that the force should bivouac where they were, the country to the north having been scouted and reported free of the enemy. It was said also to be devoid of water. No water could be found, and food was scanty, but the troops after their satisfactory rout of the Boers went to sleep in the moonlight full, if of nothing else, of contentment!

With the passage of every hour precautions became more necessary, for the Boers might now be expected to crop up from any quarter. At 6 A.M. the troops started, the men riding six yards apart from each other, for Buck Reef Farm, a distance of five miles. A drift had to be negotiated, and water from the bed of the River Maretsani was dug up, and, richly yellow though it was, enjoyed. It was necessary to make the most of this refreshing if suspicious draught, for now the march onwards promised to be almost entirely waterless, with the enemy possibly mounting guard over any pools which might present themselves.

Through the long dull afternoon they trailed upwards over a hill for eight long miles, and then on, for another eight, ploughing the sand and wearily craving for water. Man and beast were united in the common want, the absorbing yearning. Day passed into twilight and dusk broke into moonbeams; then, jaded and travel-sore, they outspanned for a brief rest.

At 1 A.M. on the 15th they were again on the move, and by 3 A.M. were making their way over the plains of sand and tussocky grass towards the one haven of their desire, Jan Massibi's--every nerve and muscle strained to meet Colonel Plumer and his small force to time, to get to the trysting-place with celerity and secrecy which should outwit the Boers, and prevent them driving a wedge between the two relief columns that had endured so much to arrive at a now almost achieved end! So, on and on, half asleep, half awake, famished, dry, aching, dull but not desponding, they went, halting often, napping sometimes, mounting again and pursuing their way towards that ever-to-be-desired point in the west where Plumer was thought to be. And sure enough there they found him! The day dawned, the morning brightened, and in the distance, light--a glow of fires--was seen. Between the relievers and the glare was a native stadt, and nearer still a river. Here the scouts in advance came on other scouts, eyed them suspiciously, eagerly, delightedly. They were Plumer's scouts, and the joy of the encounter amply compensated for the pains of all who had covered during the past two days twenty-eight miserable miles in miserable condition. All the weariness of the night was forgotten, all the discomforts set aside. The horses galloped to the Molopo brink like wild creatures, drinking furiously; and the men, too, milder in their transport, greeted the streak of glittering stream with unfeigned rejoicing.

It must here be noted that while the column was moving from Buck Reef Farm to Jan Massibi's, Colonel Plumer's force was approaching the same point from the north, and beautifully, like the grooves of a Chinese puzzle, the two relief parties met together about 5 A.M. Colonel Plumer was accompanied by his regiment of Rhodesians, some 350 of them, who for five months, under exceptional difficulties of climate and conditions, had been untiring in their efforts to hold back the enemy in their attempt to invade Rhodesia _via_ Tuli, and in their determination to retain the Bulawayo Railway for over 200 miles south of the Rhodesian border in British hands. This diminutive force, though it had achieved so much, had been powerless for want of guns to achieve still more. Colonel Plumer, in addition to Colonel Spreckley and others who had been fighting with him, was accompanied now, by a battery of Canadian Artillery, under Major Hudon (an officer whose delicate French accent gave a refining touch to the British tongue), and some 200 Queenslanders. How Colonel Plumer came into possession of the valuable addition to his troops must be described. It may be remembered that a force called the Rhodesian Field Force, numbering some 5000 men and 7000 horses, under the command of Lieutenant-General Sir Frederick Carrington, was originated to provide against the contingency of an attack on Rhodesia from the south, and to avert any plan on the part of the Boers to migrate or escape to the north. It was composed mainly of Colonial troops, and placed in charge of a general whose unequalled experience of the country through which he was travelling and fighting made him unusually valuable. Besides Colonials were some 1100 Yeomanry, a company of the Lancashire, Belfast and Dublin's, and Lord Dunraven's Sharpshooters.

While Sir Frederick Carrington was at Capetown he, knowing that Colonel Plumer's force was weak in artillery, devised a scheme for helping him. He made an arrangement with Mr. Zeederberg--the well-known Rhodesian coach-owner and a first-rate type of the Colonial Dutchman--by which the guns before named and escort were to be conveyed by mail coaches to the Rhodesian column. Mr. Zeederberg accompanied the General to Beira, and there telegraphed to Rhodesia suspending the ordinary mail service (conveying passengers and mails from Salisbury and Bulawayo), and diverting the mules to the Marandellas-Bulawayo Road. That done, no sooner had the troops steamed from Beira to Marandellas than the men were transferred to the stage-coaches and the mules were hitched to the guns, and thus the force was got to Bulawayo twenty days earlier than they would have done if moved in the ordinary manner.

The active way in which the Colonials threw themselves into the movement deserves consideration. On the 13th of April C Battery of the Royal Canadian Artillery, under Major Hudon, were ordered to proceed _via_ the Cape to Beira, there to join General Sir Frederick Carrington's force. They reached their destination on the 22nd, and entrained for Marandellas, where the General had established his base camp. After a long and trying journey in open trucks, scorched by sun, burnt by sparks from the engine, agued by night chills, and jolted on one of what is called the worst railways in the world, they reached their destination on the 26th. Colonel Plumer was known to be helpless without artillery, and therefore no time was to be lost, as every haste was necessary to equip that officer for the approaching operations.

Accordingly the "Salisbury to Bulawayo" resources were utilised as has been described, and two guns left Marandellas on the 30th of April, followed on May the 1st and 2nd by others, which were carried a distance of over 300 miles to Bulawayo by the 6th. From Bulawayo they were forwarded to Ootsi, where the rail was found to be destroyed, and consequently the remaining sixty miles to Safeteli were accomplished by a forced march. Colonel Plumer was joined by the Colonials on the 14th, and at once proceeded to meet Colonel Mahon at Jan Massibi's. A more ingenious synchronal achievement can scarcely be imagined.

The meeting of Colonel Mahon and Colonel Plumer was most cordial, and many old chums and acquaintances forgathered and cheerily exchanged reminiscences over their morning coffee. Here, in this remote corner of South Africa, near the brown thatched cottages of Jan Massibi's staadt, was gathered around in the sunlight a stalwart company of picked men whose equal could scarcely be discovered in any part of the world. Men of breeding and distinction; men in the prime of life, brawny and tough and smart; men intellectual, courageous to daredevilry, and withal full of resource. Here, on the Kimberley side, were warriors old and tried--Colonel King, who had been General Hunter's aide-de-camp in Ladysmith; Colonel Peakman, the hero of many Kimberley fights; Major Karri Davies and dashing Colonel Edwards; popular Colonel Rhodes the pioneer; and the ever-jovial Dr. Davies of the Light Horse. There were Prince Alexander of Teck, a youthful veteran by now; Major the Hon. Maurice Gifford, a soldier to the finger-nails; Captain Bell-Smythe, the energetic brigade-major; and many more, all chivalrous and hardy men of mark.

On the Rhodesian side were other grand specimens of British manhood. There was first the colonel--bronzed, dark-eyed, meditative--a man who without display had skirmished his way along the border-side from Tuli downwards, keeping the Boers in eternal suspense and so perpetually employed that they were unable to gain breathing time to concentrate their energies on Mafeking. Next came Colonel White, one of the bulwarks of Rhodesia; an adventurous spirit of the first order, an unerring shot, and, like most of his comrades, a chip of the old British block that furnished the material of the Light Brigade. There were Colonel Spreckley, a seasoned and notable fighter, alas! engaging in almost his last exploit, and Colonel Bodle of the British South Africa Police, a tower of strength, with vast experience of the western frontier of the Transvaal, and the necessary "slimness"--cultivated in a practical school--without which the handling of live eels like the Boers was impossible. There were Major Bird, another gallant and indefatigable officer; Lieutenant Harland, bright, blue-eyed, and buoyant, a typical British soldier; and Lieutenant Smitheman, valiant as Mettus Curtius and acute as a weazel--the first officer who had been successful in worming himself into Mafeking and out again!

Colonel Mahon's force had been travelling at the rate of twenty-two miles a day over sandy tracks and waterless deserts, and skirmishing by the way. They were, by now, very sun-baked and weary, but jovial beyond measure. In the evening camp-fires were lighted and goodly fare roasted, the flesh of captured oxen coming in handy to appease the appetite of the voracious travellers. It was a grand night of rest and plenty and cheeriness at the thought of work accomplished, and of plans which promised to end in triumph over the enemy. A spirit of _camaraderie_ prevailed. All alike were tingling with the glow of ambition which hatches heroes. It was an unique company--an inter-British-national throng, and vastly interesting in its heterogeneous characteristics. The Bushmen were perhaps the most curious and refreshing type of the Imperial Brotherhood. Every one with an appreciation for the genuine was swift to pronounce them delightful fellows, sound in wind and limb, full of go, spirited and keen for work of any kind that came to hand. In addition to this they were friendly and hospitable, would share their last chunk of "bully" with any one who was suffering from a vacuum, and had the "nous" to forage for themselves and find their way about in the veldt in a manner that excited as much admiration as surprise. They could ride too. They sat a buckjumper as a child sits a swing, and seemed to be horsemasters as it were by instinct. Full to overflowing with loyalty, they talked of home and Queen as though they had been born on the steps of Buckingham Palace. They were democratic withal. Their loyalty was to the superb, the estimable, and the Queen to them was the sample of the ideal womanhood, holding them enslaved by the power that is the firmest of all powers--the hair-line of respect.

To return to our "moutons" and to the sheep-pen in the heart of the veldt. At last dawned the memorable 16th--the ever-to-be-remembered morning when Mafeking, like a little white clothes-drying yard, came to be seen in the distance. All along the north bank of the Molopo for nine miles had marched the two columns, Colonel Plumer's Brigade leading, followed by Colonel Edwards and the Second Brigade, till at last, in the far grey plain, the little hamlet that had been the subject of so much persecution and so much British anxiety, came in sight.

Then all were prepared for the worst or for the best. They lunched frugally, cooled themselves with draughts from the clear river, and then ... then the enemy made his last, his expiring effort. He began to blaze with his rifles on the extreme left, and continued so to blaze till volley followed volley. Off went the Light Horse buoyant and brisk towards the north, followed by Colonel King and his redoubtable "Kimburlians," who started to frustrate any attempt at a rear attack. But this attempt not being made he joined forces with the Light Horse, with whom were M Battery and the pom-poms.

Meanwhile the Boers in front began to ply their guns "for all they were worth," shifting their pieces so as to enfilade the right of the British, thinking on that flank to make a more favourable impression. But on both fronts some Dutchmen were collected, and those on the left were engaged by the Light Horse and a section of M Battery, while on the right Colonel Plumer's Maxim-Nordenfeldt with the Battery of the Canadians did excellent execution. Two squadrons of Rhodesians advanced from the south across the river, to watch Boer reinforcements which hovered in the distance.

The Boers now made an effort to attack the convoy, which had been diverted to the left; but here the Dutchmen had the astute Colonel Peakman to deal with. This officer promptly set his guns to work, and pounded them with such precision and warmth that they were glad enough to fall back on their main body. Then the Canadians assailed them, and later Captain Montmorency with his Maxim-Nordenfeldt silenced the big Boer gun. So effective was the action of the artillery that about 3 P.M. the Boers were beginning to show signs of removal. Meanwhile the Light Horse and the Kimberley troops were pushing boldly on, and by four o'clock the besiegers were on the run, their scurrying silhouettes dotting for a moment or two the skyline and then vanishing into space!

On the right fighting still lingered on, the enemy trying hard to hold their ground, the Canadians trying equally hard to dislodge them from a position before Mafeking known as the White House. There was some tough work here, and presently M Battery from 3600 yards north of the house came to the assistance of the Canadians. Finally the Fusiliers and the Queenslanders with fixed bayonets, and a rush and roar, assailed the enemy's last position, and the door to Mafeking was opened! Off scrambled the remnant of the Boer hordes, leaving behind them ammunition and many other things grateful to the hearts of the conquerors.

For the first time the enemy found themselves outmatched in the way of guns as in the way of wits. Gloating, they had been circling round Mafeking, waiting with confidence for an exhausted force. They found instead a force that had marched warily, and reserved itself, and came with full rush upon them; a force that had been concentrating its energies to give them as much fighting as they cared for. The whole route was now purged of Boers, and when at dusk the column outspanned it was but for a brief hour or two. Without warning, Colonel Mahon inspanned again, determining to take advantage of the moonlight and the clear road; in a very short time he was wending his way towards the great destination. At four o'clock on the morning of the 17th his mission was accomplished!

The losses were many, for the fighting, during the short time it lasted, was fierce and sustained; and the Boer force numbered some 2000, while the British columns amounted to about 1500. There were over sixty killed and wounded:--

Lieutenant Edwin Harland, Hampshire Regiment--commanding C Squadron Rhodesian Regiment, was killed. The following were wounded: 2nd Royal West Surrey Regiment--Major W. D. Bird, severe. British South Africa Police--Lieutenant Richard Sherman Godley, slight. Rhodesian Regiment--Lieutenant John Alexander Forbes, slight. Royal Horse Artillery--Lieutenant N. M. Gray, severe. Kimberley Mounted Corps--Captain C. P. Fisher, slight. Imperial Light Horse--Lieutenant Hew Campbell Ross, slight.

Gallant young Harland was generally regretted. He had taken the place of Captain Maclaren when that officer was wounded in the attempt to rescue Mafeking on the 31st, and had displayed such first-rate talents, both as soldier and scout, that he had earned for himself the title of "Baden-Powell the Second."

The following table describes the forces engaged in the Relief:--

MAFEKING.--Protectorate Regiment (800), Cape Mounted Police, British South Africa Company's Mounted Police, Bechuanaland Rifles--1500 men. COLONEL PLUMER'S FORCE.--Rhodesia Regiment, Southern Rhodesia Volunteers, Bechuanaland Border Police, A Detachment of Canadian Artillery. COLONEL MAHON'S FLYING COLUMN.--100 men from Barton's Frontier Brigade, 200 Queenslanders (Bushmen). KIMBERLEY MOUNTED CORPS.--Diamond Fields Horse, Kimberley Light Horse, Cape Police, Imperial Light Horse, Diamond Fields Artillery, M Battery Royal Horse Artillery--1200 men.

ON THE WESTERN FRONTIER--THE INVASION OF THE TRANSVAAL _VIA_ CHRISTIANA.

At the same time, on the Western Frontier, affairs were progressing in accord with Lord Roberts's strategical programme. Sir Charles Warren had arrived to take up his new post as military governor of Griqualand West, and General Hunter was engaged in a species of overture to cover the advance of the Flying Column which had started on the 5th. Without opposition he effected the passage of the Vaal River at Windsorton. There was great satisfaction to feel that British shells were at last exploding in Transvaal territory, and that the voice of the new gun, "Bobs," was spreading devastation far and wide. Three Boer laagers were dispersed, and on the 4th of May the new weapon caused considerable commotion within the Republican border. Ambulances were seen performing their melancholy duty for some time after the morning shelling had ceased. On the 5th Barton's Brigade encountered 2000 and more of the enemy some two miles north of Rooidam. The Dutchmen held a hilly and jungly position extending over four miles, but from their beloved kopjes they were routed time after time, and with considerable loss, by the magnificent dash of the troops, who carried one ridge after another with splendid energy and daring. The Yeomanry under Colonel Meyrick especially distinguished themselves, their courage and coolness under fire being remarkable. They not only engaged the enemy at very close quarters, but chased them for miles. General Hunter, having settled the Dutchmen, after a contest of some eight hours' duration, joined hands with the British force under General Paget at Warrenton.

Fourteen Streams was now occupied without opposition, the enemy having found the attentions of the artillery in the direction of the left bank of the Vaal far too pressing for his liking. At sight of the approach of the 6th and half the 5th Brigades of infantry the Boers scampered, leaving behind them in the trenches saddles, ammunition, and wardrobes. A British camp was formed at Fourteen Streams--C Company of the Munster Fusiliers, under Lieutenant Caning, having been the first to cross the river during the night. These were followed at dawn by the rest of the troops. The river was low, and the Engineers set to work to construct a pontoon bridge for heavy traffic, and to mend the old railway bridge and make it fit for immediate use.

The following casualties took place during the advance: Captain Lovett, 1st Royal Welsh Fusiliers, died from wounds, and Captain MacMahon, 2nd Royal Fusiliers, was wounded.

The ten days' march to Vryburg, which was reached on the 24th of May, was comparatively uneventful, but the Yeomanry did excellent work, as the following report of a Glasgow yeoman serves to show:--"We were most of the time on half-rations, and every morning were up before 2 A.M.... The first day we left the camp at Warrenton we crossed the Vaal River, where the railway bridge was blown up. They have now got a temporary one made, which they completed two days after we left.... On the other side we joined the Union Brigade; Colonel Hart (Barton), I think, is commander of it. We had two batteries of artillery with us, and some other brigade joined us next day, and we were supposed to be about 12,000 strong under General Sir A. Hunter. They do not tell you whether you are going to fight or on a day's march, the regulars say; but we all expected one the day after we left, as we were advised to make any personal arrangements we had to make. Next day we moved off about 6.30. Nineteenth and 20th Companies were the scouts, and 17th and 18th the support. It is rather exciting the first day you are out scouting, with ninety cartridges in your bandolier and ten in your magazine, expecting to come in contact with the Boers every minute. Some of their patrols were seen two days before we left. On Wednesday morning we came in sight of Christiana, which we took in great style. We galloped half round it at half a mile distance in extended order, the Major and Captain C---- galloping up to houses, putting the butts of their rifles through the windows, and looking to see if the houses were occupied. There were very few people there; 2000 Boers had left the day before. However, we came across two or three, who were disarmed, and all the arms that were got in the town were broken up. We commandeered a lot of cattle, sheep, and horses, left a company of infantry in charge of the town, left again that night, and did about other six miles' march towards Toungs. We saw about a hundred Boers two days later, but they did not let us get near them. We are the only cavalry attached to the column, so that we have to do all the scouting, front and rear guards. It is quite a sight to see a column on the march. First scouts are out in front advancing in line, about a hundred yards apart, then the supports, next a skirmishing line of infantry, then two or three companies of them. After this long lines of transports, the artillery, droves of cattle and sheep, then more infantry, and behind the rearguard. I have only washed once since I left Warrenton, now twelve days ago, and then I had no soap, and had to dry my face with my handkerchief. We had to leave all our stuff behind us so as to march as light as possible. These last two days we have been getting bread, as they have now got the railway put right up this length. We were only getting two hard biscuits per day, coffee in the morning and tea at night, pretty often without any sugar, and sometimes we couldn't manage to get sticks to make a fire. The beer is 4s. per bottle. The Boers have commandeered everything nearly, and the folks here were glad to see us. The enemy cleared out of here fourteen days ago."

* * * * *

Space does not admit of a detailed account of this excellent movement, which was originated in support of the Mafeking Relief Column, and had for a double object the protection of Mahon's force and the invasion of the Transvaal from the west.

To appreciate the turn of wheel within wheel of Lord Roberts's strategic machinery it is necessary to give a glance at the map of the Transvaal. It will then be seen that synchronously with the occupation of Christiana by General Sir Archibald Hunter on the 16th and the Relief of Mafeking by Colonels Mahon and Plumer, we find Lord Methuen moving towards Hoopstad, Lord Roberts holding Kroonstad, General Ian Hamilton pushing up towards Lindley and Heilbron, and farther east Generals Clery and Dundonald advancing towards Ingogo and Laing's Nek respectively!

THE RELIEF.

To return to Mafeking. On the day that Colonel Mahon and Colonel Plumer joined hands near Jan Massibi's thatched village, news leaked in that the long-talked-of relief was verily at hand. They had heard this kind of thing before, and their despair lest the Boers should attack the town to obtain the release of Eloff was scarcely allayed. However, on the 16th, dust was espied in the distance, and there was a rush to the roofs of the houses to ascertain whether that dust was hostile or friendly. It was afterwards discovered that it was the sign of the retiring enemy, and eventually towards dusk it was announced that the Relief Column was really in sight. The longing eyes of Mafeking looked out, and for the first time saw their persecutors in full retreat, saw them begin to run, and then, later, scudding for their lives, while their gratified ears, so tuned to the sound of the vicious artillery of the foe, now heard the cheery notes of the Canadian artillery, the pom-poms, and other pieces, clearing the barricades that for so long had shut out the free air of day. In the late afternoon Major Karri Davies, who after the routing of the Federals had never drawn rein till he reached Mafeking, accompanied by some eight of the Imperial Light Horse, the Light Horse that had been first in Ladysmith, marched into the town. Surprise was intense! Then surprise thawed into warmth, and then warmth grew to fever-heat. Rapture eventually reached boiling-point, and the nine men, gaunt, worn, haggard with fatigue, were deafened with cheers, and had not strength enough to do the handshaking.

Meanwhile, as we know, Colonel Mahon had outspanned. He did this only to inspan again, and proceed by moonlight to the town. He had followed the rule of South African strategy,--said he was going to do one thing and did the other,--thus outwitting the Boers, who having retired wearily, were gathering themselves up to lunge at him, and intercept his entry so soon as the dawn should break. But by four in the morning of the 17th, while the chill dramatic moonbeams were yet bathing the scene with strange mystery, Colonel Mahon and his merry men--they were merrier than merry at the prospect of their welcome--led by Major Baden-Powell, the brother of the hero of the defence, approached the town. The news of the arrival spread like wildfire. Immediately all was bustle, and bliss, and gratulation. Men, women, and children beamed. Some wept; some danced. The natives indulged in wild sounds, and showed rows of dazzling teeth. Exuberance took amazing forms; stranger wrung the hand of stranger, friends grasped and re-grasped: if they had been foreigners they would have embraced! The large hearts of the heroes within and the large hearts of the heroes from without were throbbing in unison, bursting with satisfaction in the accomplishment of great work in the cause of their country and of their fellow-men. The ragged, battered, grimy, magnificent throng was almost at a loss to express itself. Words lagged, and even those forthcoming were blurred by a foggy haze in the throat, while a strange mistiness crept over eyes that for seven months had been bright with the fire of determination. But withal, there was no emasculating abandonment to rapture of the hour. There was no unbuckling of armour. At nine the serious work of war began again. The united forces went out on a reconnaissance in the direction of MacMullin's farm, where the chief Dutch laager was fixed, and then all the artillery, even to the grandfatherly "Lord Nelson," performed in concert in honour of the great occasion. Cascades of shrapnel and little white balls of smoke danced and played over the laager, and bombs burst with violent detonations, and then, like magic, wreaths of dust began to rise and increase, and cloud the distance. It was the Dutchmen scampering for dear life across the veldt, their waggons and guns--all save one--rumbling into space. This one was abandoned in the hurried flight, the Boers having taken the precaution to destroy the breech, but it was nevertheless captured as a precious souvenir of times more pleasant in reminiscence than in being. The forts were visited in turn, and at Game-Tree--that dreadful thorn in the side of the garrison--the Union Jack went up to a chorus of cheers. Finally, the place was devoured by fire, to the satisfaction of those who had so long regarded it with apprehension and hate. At MacMullin's farm were found the Boer wounded, deserted of their kind, who had scuttled with such alacrity that even their still smoking breakfasts had been foregone. Lieutenant Currie and his smart Cape Boys, and Major Baillie (4th Hussars), came on one or two stragglers in the Boer laager, who wisely surrendered. Snyman's official correspondence was discovered, and from this much valuable information was gleaned. From one bundle of papers the garrison learned the pleasing intelligence that Kroonstadt had fallen; from another, that Kruger was not best pleased with the old Commandant--indeed, the President without palaver had inquired by telegram whether his failure of the previous Saturday had been due to drink! The rescue of Captain Maclaren (13th Hussars) from the clutches of the enemy caused great satisfaction, and he was borne off in triumph to the hospital, where he was comfortably located. He was suffering still from the wounds sustained during the fight on the 31st, one of which had been inflicted after he was helpless by a Dutchman, who deliberately fired on him at a distance of twenty yards, and subsequently robbed him of watch and money!

By noon the reconnaissance was at an end,--the place was found to be clear of the horrible girdle that for seven months had encompassed it,--and then the Market Square became a scene of unrestrained enthusiasm. The Town Guard got itself into position ready to do honour to the warriors who had come through fire and blood to release their fellow-countrymen, while every nook and corner of the broken hamlet was filled with excited, cheering folks--folks whose vocal cords seemed scarcely to have suffered from scant fare and unceasing vigils, and who yelled as though by sheer force of lung power they meant to swell their song of jubilation to the four corners of the earth!

Perhaps the march past of the united relief columns was the most unique and imposing ceremony ever performed within the confines of such a "chicken-run." Here, in this tiny compass, the whole empire veritably met together--South Africans, Australians, Canadians, English, Scots, and Irishmen, Indians, Cape Boys--all following one another, unit after unit, like some quaint scenic procession of the nations. There were the bronzed colonels--Baden-Powell, and Mahon, and Plumer, now household names throughout the world--accompanied by their staffs, the _élite_ of the embattled array. There were the glorious 12-pounders--M Battery of the Royal Horse Artillery, whose every limber looked dear to the eyes that long had been strained in eagerness for their coming--and their guardians, the helmeted band of staunch and sturdy gunners, who carried the voice of Empire far and wide--there were the plumed and mettlesome Colonials, very fighting-cocks at the sniff of war--there was the lion rampant in the form of the Union Brigade (the picked portions of it from the Royal Fusiliers, Royal Scots, Royal Welsh Fusiliers, and Royal Irish Fusiliers), a right regal company, the very sight of which in common times would have caused the heart of Britons to throb, and which now sent the cup of patriotic rapture brimming over. Cheers or tears? Shouts or sobs? It was a "toss"-up which would supersede the other, and amid the stupendous _fracas_ even the dauntless hero of this unparalleled, soul-stirring outburst turned aside that none should view the emotion that threatened to overwhelm him.

The painter, when he depicted Agamemnon in the hour of sublime sacrifice, drew a veil over the features of the chief. He judged the supreme moment of human exultation too sanctified for common gaze. Even so must we draw the veil of silence over this supreme moment in the life of the saviour of Mafeking ... the soundless epic is the more sonorous.

The parade over, addresses were presented and the usual formalities gone through. The gratitude of the town for the relief--the appreciation of the magnificent work done by Colonel Baden-Powell, and the stupendous energy of the succouring forces, were all dilated on and thanks returned. A hailstorm of cheers then broke out--cheers for Queen and country, for Baden-Powell, Mahon, Plumer, Colonel Rhodes, Major Karri Davies; in fact, every one cheered every one else, for all were too deserving, too heroic, to overlook the deserts and heroism of those who had imperilled their lives over and over again to maintain the prestige of their native land. So passed the day, and at night chums and comrades gathered together and jested and laughed, and told yarns of skirmish and sortie and surprise, till they sank to sleep in their greatcoats and blankets, fairly worn out with their eleven days and nights of boot and saddle.

On the 19th, the garrison assembled for a last, a solemn function. A great thanksgiving and memorial service was held at the cemetery, and all bade a last farewell to those who had shared with them the tribulations of the siege without reaping the harvest of honour their hands had sown.

At the close of the impressive ceremony three volleys were fired over the noble dead who had given their lives to attain the great end, and then an effort was made to sing the National Anthem, but the notes were quavering with the emotion which these hitherto fearless men now feared might unman them.

Finally Colonel Baden-Powell--a little abruptly to cover the touching nature of his farewell--addressed the garrison:--

"We have been a happy family during the siege. The time has now come for breaking up. When we were first invested I said to you, 'Sit tight and shoot straight.' The garrison has sat tight and shot straight, with the present glorious result. Many nice things have been said about me at home, but it is an easy thing to be the figurehead of a ship. The garrison has been the rigging and sails of the good ship Mafeking, and has brought her safely through her stormy cruise."

He then thanked the ladies, beginning with the matron of the hospital, whose pluck and devotion could not be sufficiently extolled. Turning to the Protectorate Regiment, he said:--

"To you I need say nothing. Your roll of dead and wounded tells its own tale."

Shaking hands with Colonel Hore he thanked him for the assistance he had given him, and to the artillery, under Major Panzera and Lieutenant Daniel, he said:--

"You were armed with obsolete weapons, but you made up for these by your cool shooting and the way you stuck to your guns."

The colonel afterwards turned to the British South Africa Police:--

"I need not repeat to you men the story of the little red fort on the hill, which Cronje could not take."

And to the Cape Police, under Captain Marsh, he addressed himself as follows:--

"You have not been given an opportunity of doing anything dramatic, but throughout the siege you have held one of the nastiest places in the town, where the enemy were expected at any moment, and where you were always under fire."

The colonel next made some graceful remarks to the Town Guard. He compared them to a walnut in a shell; saying that people thought that they had but to break the shell to get at the kernel. But the enemy had learnt better. They had got through the husk and found they could get no hold on the kernel. In conclusion, he announced that any civilians who wished to return to their ordinary occupations immediately might do so. Those who had none to return to, whose billets had been lost or businesses ruined, would be permitted in the meantime to draw trench allowances and to remain on duty in the inner defences.

Major Goold Adams was then cordially thanked for all the excellent work he had done as Town Commandant, after which the Railway Division (under Captain Moore) and Lieutenant Layton (who had received a commission for his splendid services) were addressed:--

"I cannot thank you enough for what you have done. You have transformed yourselves from railway-men to soldiers. Your work is not yet done, because it will be your business to reopen communication and get in supplies."

To the Bechuanaland Rifles Colonel Baden-Powell exclaimed:--

"Men, you have turned out trumps. With volunteers one knows that they have been ably drilled, but there is no telling how they will fight. I have been able to use you exactly as Regular troops, and I have been specially pleased with your straight shooting. The other day, when the enemy occupied the Protectorate Fort, they admitted that they were forced to surrender by your straight shooting, under which they did not dare to show a hand above the parapet."

The chief delighted the juvenile Cadet Corps by giving them their meed of praise for their conduct as soldiers, concluding with, "I hope you will continue in the profession, and will do as well in after life."

He then turned to the outsiders, the Northern Relief Force under Colonel Plumer, which had borne the brunt of the seven months' fighting, and expressed his regret that they had been too weak to relieve the town "off their own bat." But he eulogised the splendid work done in bad country and climate. The Southern Force under Colonel Mahon were congratulated on having made a march which would live in history. Their chief was complimented on the magnificent body of men he commanded, while the Imperial Light Horse, associated as it was with memories of Ladysmith, Colonel Baden-Powell declared he was especially pleased to see, as these would be able, in consequence of their own experience, to sympathise with the people in Mafeking.

So the amazing defence of Mafeking was over! For seven months the gallant little town had withstood every ingenious device of the Boers, and in the end it had come off victorious. The first shot was fired on the 16th of October, and from that day the rumble of bombardment had been the accompaniment of almost every hour between the rising and setting of the sun. And now all was serene and still, and only the battered walls of the once neat little hamlet told the terrible, the glorious tale of British doggedness and British pluck.

HOW THE NEWS WAS RECEIVED BY THE BRITISH EMPIRE.

For some time the ears of London had been pricked up in anxious expectation. Lord Roberts had promised to relieve Mafeking by the 18th of May, and the Field-Marshal was known to be punctuality personified. All the town remained in a state of suppressed excitement, little flags were selling like wildfire, and big flags were being got into readiness for the great, the longed-for word. Early in the morning of the 17th the papers were anxiously perused, and man asked man if any news had leaked out. The 18th arrived. Nothing was known. The War Office maintained its adamantine calm. The day grew middle-aged, almost old--then, as the shutters were about to go up (twenty minutes past nine was the exact hour), one telegram of Reuter's fired the fuse, and London, followed presently by the whole British Empire, was ablaze with excitement. The flame, like most flames, broke out almost unnoticed. Some one on a cycle--some one in a cab, heard the glorious three words, and sped breathless to carry the contagion of his rapture far and wide. Street after street began to smoulder--to glow; and, presto! the town was one vast conflagration! Such a furnace of patriotism had never been seen within the confines of the staid metropolis. By ten o'clock the populace of one consent had run wild into the streets--the houses were too cramped to hold them--they ran wild, roaring and yelling and shouting and singing, passing into the heart of the Capital in dense armies--passing? nay!--for soon none could pass, but had merely to be propelled good-humouredly by the compact mass that surged apparently to no destination whatever. Whence came the clamouring hosts it was impossible to say--they seemed to rise from the earth, so rapidly, so mysteriously, did their numbers increase. Liberty, equality, fraternity, was the motto of this memorable night. All ages, and ranks, and sexes were linked together in the bonds of sympathetic patriotism--countess or coster, duke or drayman, it was all one--an identical beam of triumph imparted a relationship to every British face. Minutes had scarcely grown into hours before the Union Jack fluttered from every window, from every cart and 'bus, from every hand, and the roar of human joy was as the roar of the ocean in a tempest. At the theatres, as at the railway stations, the crowds heard and wondered only for a moment, for the electrical news got into their midst, and they on the instant took up the cry and the cheer, and repeated them with all their might. Indeed, theatrical performances were suspended while the joyous audiences sang and re-sang "Rule, Britannia" and "God Save the Queen," and then, unsatisfied, tore into the open to let off steam as it were, and view a sight which never before has been witnessed, and probably never again will be visible in the precincts of London Town. The Mansion House, where the display of the message had caused a huge concourse to assemble, was next besieged, and the old walls literally shook with the mighty roar of the multitude. The "National Anthem" swelled out thunderously with volume that was almost awe-striking as the combined voice of a Handel Festival, and shouts for the Lord Mayor grew and grew, and became deafening as that honoured citizen and splendid patriot showed himself.

He then delivered the following speech: "I wish the music of your cheers could reach Mafeking. For seven long weary months a handful of men has been besieged by a horde. We never doubted what the end would be. British pluck and valour when used in a right cause must triumph. The heart of every one of you vibrates with intense loyalty and enthusiasm, I know, and the conscience of every one of you assures you that we have fought in a righteous and just cause." The crowd, incapable of silence for very long, broke into "Rule, Britannia," and when this outburst of emotion was expended, the Lord Mayor continued: "We have fought for our most glorious traditions of equality and freedom, not for ourselves alone, but for the men of all those nations who have settled in South Africa and who were under the protection of the British flag." Three cheers for Colonel Baden-Powell were then called for, and three for Lord Roberts, and these having been heartily given, he said: "The people of Bloemfontein and Mafeking are now singing 'God Save the Queen'; you can do it for yourselves." This they proceeded to do not once but twenty times through the livelong hours of the night. Meanwhile the following practical telegram was despatched by the Lord Mayor:--

"_To_ BADEN-POWELL, Mafeking, _via_ Cape Town.

"Citizens London relieved and rejoiced by good news just received. Your gallant defence will long live in British annals. Cable me what money wanted for needs of garrison and inhabitants after long privations.

"ALFRED NEWTON, _Lord Mayor_."

At the same time a huge portrait of Colonel Baden-Powell was displayed in front of the Mansion House, and the strains of "God Save the Queen" and "Rule, Britannia" were now intermingled with the lively tune of "For he's a jolly good fellow." These combined choruses were echoed and re-echoed, and carried along like a gigantic stream of sound into the suburbs of London, into sleeping Kensington and remote Clapham, so that men and women turned in their beds--sat up, terrified at first, then realising the situation, gave up thought of rest, and listened with swelling hearts to the triumphant din. And so, on and on--through the night till morning broke!

Then, the whole face of London seemed transmogrified. National emblems--red, white, blue, yellow, green, stars and stripes--draping the houses and festooning the roads, gave the town the aspect of one huge bazaar. Balconies were decorated, awnings thrown out, and in some cases, to give a touch of realism, bathing towels[6] were hung from the verandahs. People passing by, and ignorant of the double meaning of the curious drapery, shrugged their shoulders, scoffed--then, awakened by a flash of illumination, looked again and broke into renewed cheers. Before the dwelling of the mother of the defender of Mafeking a vast crowd collected, wielding flags and laurels, and displaying in their midst the bust of the hero with a British lion crouching at his feet. Cheers rent the air, and increased in volume when the proud parent of this splendid Briton appeared on the balcony and acknowledged the demonstration. The glad tumult in front of this point of attraction continued throughout the day, people coming from far and wide here to vent their ecstasy of enthusiasm--some in shouts, many in tears.

By nightfall, the whole Empire was pouring forth its excitement in congratulatory telegrams, for, four minutes after the receipt of the intelligence in London the news had passed over the Atlantic cables and was in the New York office of the Associated Press, whence it was forwarded to the farthest limit of the North American Continent. Canada, New South Wales, Sydney, and all the other colonies whose bravest and best had contributed to the great doings in the Transvaal, were now aglow with bunting and illuminations. Church bells pealed, processions passed shouting and rejoicing, ships were dressed from truck to taffrail, and prayers and anthems of praise were got ready to be offered up on the following day at all churches.

Thus, for a brief space, was seen a vast concourse of millions of souls of differing opinions, customs, and creeds, diffused even to the remotest corners of the British-speaking world, yet closely united by a bond of fraternal sympathy in consequence of the triumph of British manhood in the most unique ordeal that the loyalty of any nation has been called upon to endure.

FOOTNOTES:

[5] See Vol. III. p. 39.

[6] The hero of Mafeking at Charterhouse was nicknamed "Bathing Towel."