Chapter Eleven.
The Boer Paramount.
The life which our heroes led for the next few weeks in Johannesburg, although excessively useful, was not momentous. They learned to be sure of hitting the centre of the bull’s-eye with every shot. Also, what would be of more service in actual Boer warfare, they mastered the science of taking a bead swiftly and hitting a rapidly moving object. Sword and bayonet exercises were not neglected, nor horse and foot drill.
They saw the miners at work on the tunnel that was slowly crawling towards the German-filled fort, and helped to carry the débris through one of the several exits. This was the most delicate part of the work, yet it was managed without much difficulty by the numerous members who composed the league.
During the daytime they walked about the city or rode over the veldt, getting gradually acquainted with most of their brothers, and learning whom to avoid amongst the inhabitants.
They no longer wondered why the former rising had ended in disaster. Amongst all the crowds who were called Uitlanders not a sixth portion were, even at this time, bona fide Britishers. At the time of Dr Jim’s gallant raid they were not a twelfth part. The rest of the population was made up of Russians, French, and German Jews, with a large sprinkling of other nationalities. Germans mostly, however, predominated, and they made no secret of their deep and violent hatred of everything British. Not a single Englishman was employed in any public department either in Johannesburg or anywhere else throughout the Transvaal. The labourers even, who were employed by Government were either Germans or Hollanders when they were not Kaffirs. In the highest posts were placed Boers, Hollanders, and Germans exclusively. It was a clear case of “no English need apply” to any burgher employer.
The president, Paul Kruger, and his bigoted and ignorant Executive Council had got every concession which crafty greed and tyranny could get from cowardice and treason. They had introduced German soldiers wholesale into their country, and purchased nearly all the arms and ammunition which had entered Africa for the past two years. This, with blind and misplaced confidence, they had been allowed to do by the other colonists. Indeed, throughout Cape Colony and Natal, the Dutch Africanders had been openly spending all their spare money in arming themselves, while the colonials, as a majority, had been watching them doing this, and neglecting to take the same precautions. At the present moment, to all appearance, the Boers and their friends were the only effectively armed people throughout South Africa. We must except, of course, those who were under the influence of Cecil Rhodes—the men of Rhodesia and the Three Ace Club league. Affairs were in a fairly quiescent condition at present. The citizens of Johannesburg had given over asking for their rights, and accepted each fresh insult and oppression quietly, and without outward remonstrance. They knew such were utterly futile with that obstinate bigot, who regarded himself as an avenging instrument in the hands of the Lord.
Neither was it any secret what all these warlike preparations were aiming at. If the Home Government shut its eyes, not a man, woman, or child in Africa but knew that the old man of Pretoria intended nothing less than the subjugating of Africa to the Boers, as soon as matters were ripe enough. They would soon find excuses for their violence and treason when they were ready to begin. As for the anarchy and massacres that would follow, they were satisfied that they would find plenty of defenders amongst the reptile gangs of Little Englanders, who were at present doing their utmost to help them in their work of destruction. It was an open secret that the hated English were to be driven out of Africa, and the country torn from the empire.
This was to be the result of our clemency and weak indulgence to a race who understood only revenge and oppression. The remorseless principles and inhuman tenets of the Boer religion belonged to those dark ages which civilisation and the true knowledge of Christianity has swept from the other portions of the globe where the Bible is known and honoured. Their colonial history is a long record of steadfast atrocity and abuse of power. Wherever they have trekked they have left a broad trail of blood and disaster. Wherever they have settled, progress has ceased to exist. They are, as a race, the most ignorant, the most remorseless, and the rudest of barbarians.
The history of Africa, from the most remote ages, has been one of conquest. There are, therefore, no aboriginal owners to restrain the hand of the taker, or lay bona fide claims to compensation for land seized. It has been, in the past, ruthlessly torn from the weak by the strong, and held only by force of arms. Humanitarians, therefore, cannot urge the claims of the Kaffirs over the white conquerors. From a humanitarian point of view, the race that has proved most worthy of advancing humanity and civilisation has the best of all possible rights to this open country.
For the sake of future races, it is only one of the great existing nations that dare take up this grave responsibility.
Neither Germany, France, nor Russia, so far as their colonial policy and history is concerned, have shown that they are adapted for this great work. England only has proved that she is equal to the task, as long ago, Imperial Rome did in a lesser way. Our great empire liberates and advances every land which she protects. She frees the slave, educates the savage, and makes the black man equal with the white. She welcomes the stranger within her gates, asks no tyrannical pledges from the Uitlander before she gives him employment and all the rights of her own children. She embraces all humanity as her children, without shackling them with conditions, either individually or tribal. Whatever king or chief they owe allegiance to—whatever flag they honour—makes, no difference to their rights as colonists and citizens while they live under and claim the protection of the British flag. This is our best defence for our right to extend and hold our empire in the face of envious enemies and internal traitors. What we give up, or lose, or forego is a distinct loss to civilisation, progression, and humanity. We are the only holders and dispensers of liberty. The German makes a good colonist under British control; so do the French, the Dutch, and many of the other clans on the earth’s surface.
But when Germany seizes a land she treats it as the warlike Kaffirs did. She butchers the original owners, and insists on all outsiders relinquishing their private rights, and becoming subjects. As the Kaiser has truly said, “On whatever land the German Eagle fixes its talons, that land is German.” This means, it is no longer free, only a German is entitled to civil rights.
The Boer, wherever he has possessed any authority, has pursued a similar policy, only, being more medieval and ignorantly conservative in his ideas, he goes many steps further in his candid tyranny than does his friend the German. His religion is a blending of gross superstition, narrowness, intolerance, and Judaism in its most relentless and savage aspect.
He honestly believes in the justice of the curse of Ham; but he believes more, for, like the Moslem with his women, he says that the dark races of the earth are like the beasts, soulless; whom to shoot down is no murder; whom to enslave is his right, as one of the masterful and heaven-favoured races.
He believes in revenge and hatred as sacred duties. “An eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth,” are words which he gloats upon.
According to the patriarchal laws he is a good husband and father, and will fight for his own like any red Indian. Like all savages, however, he does not care for fighting in the open. He prefers to skulk behind rocks, and take his enemy at a disadvantage.
He is a mass of gross superstition; in this he even surpasses the Kaffir. He believes fervently in ghosts and omens, and dreads the dark with trembling horror. He is utterly devoid of chivalry, truth, or common honesty. A pledge in his estimation means only an expedient to hoodwink his adversary and gain time. He will make a promise at any time, and break it without the slightest scruple. He laughs at those who trust him, as fools. Like the wild boar, he hates to see his lair disturbed. He would much rather trek than live where civilisation is. He is rude, uncouth, and pre-eminently inhospitable, and prefers his own ignorance and superstition to enlightenment. By nature he is a morose and uncompromising savage who has no place among civilised races, and not the faintest conception of democracy.
His greed is sateless; his audacity boundless; and his sense of gratitude nil. Philanthropy and mercy are qualities which he despises, because he cannot understand them. He professes to believe in the Redeemer of mankind, but he draws his inspirations from the passages of Scripture that suit his peculiar temperament, and the ethics of Christianity do not. As a nation, he is as utterly impossible as the Turk, therefore is completely out of place in the Transvaal.
The past history of the Boers in Africa has proved this beyond dispute. They have slaughtered mercilessly, and oppressed their neighbours wherever they have settled. It is only by the strong hand that they have been kept so far within bounds.
Their principal grievance against us is that we freed their slaves, and they nurse this grievance with undying hatred. They have murdered our settlers ruthlessly, betrayed our statesmen, and mocked us for our weaknesses. They remember their supposed wrongs, and lose no chance of repaying them by brutality and treachery, and mock at our generosity in forgetting what they have done.
Ah! the gallant sons we have lost through trusting those ruthless murderers! England may forget, but what of the mothers, wives, sisters, fathers, and brothers of those who lie buried, and yet unavenged?
It is possible to pardon a brave enemy who has fought fairly. As Englishmen, we do this always—but only after we have wiped out the blot. But what true Englishman could forgive the bloody assassin who walks about boasting over his crime? What true Englishman could sit down tamely, and swallow insult and slavery, as well as murder?
These were the inhuman, hating, and ferocious enemies which some Englishmen delighted to honour, sympathise with, and admire, for their treatment of those Englishmen who had saved their Republic from ruin, and poured wealth into their rapacious pockets. The tactics of their obstinate and superstitious president is world known. His shamelessness, greed, craft, and unblushing falsehood, his open enmity, his avarice, and dense stupidity, all these qualities are representative of his people, and what we are asked to admire and sympathise with. Standing as we do afar off, we are apt to forget the atrocious side of the Boer, and regard the ridiculous side with good-natured contempt.
But to those in the midst of it all, it was by no means a matter to laugh at. The constant reminders of those atrocities and disgraces, the wanton insults, the brutal treatment, the persistent turning round of the screw, without a moment of relaxation, were maddening even to the meekest and most long-suffering.
As we have already shown, our heroes did not come of a mute and lowly race. They had British blood in their veins—young English blood that was quickly heated. Since their coming to the Transvaal this blood had been at boiling pitch.
They tried to hearken to the words of prudence as preached by Philip Martin and Mr Raybold. They tried to obey their leaders, and shut their eyes to the daily outrages of justice which they beheld, and act in away which their hearts told them was base cowardice.
They saw ladies hustled rudely by rough and armed clowns from the footpath amongst the mud. They listened to coarse epithets shouted at their countrywomen if they looked indignant at this usage, and did their best to keep their hands in their pockets and their eyes on the ground.
They saw the German mercenaries knock down, kick, and baton the citizens without the slightest provocation, and the citizens take their unmerited punishment without remonstrance, knowing full well there was no possible redress from the Boer authorities. They saw Boers spit on the beards of Englishmen, and they only take out and use their handkerchiefs to wipe the hateful stains away. They saw children ill-treated because their parents were English, and the parents lift up their children and soothe them, without attempting to punish the wretches who had made those innocents weep.
They saw all this and grosser outrages constantly being enacted under their eyes, and while they looked they ground their teeth, and wondered how long they would be able to endure this horrible restraint upon their pent-up feelings.
“It will be our turn before long to be batoned,” remarked Fred, quietly. “We cannot expect to be allowed to walk the streets much longer without being molested.”
“The Boer or German who attempts to lay a finger on me had better look out. I’ll leave my mark on him,” replied Ned, grimly.
“We’ll be there at the same time with our signatures,” put in Clarence, cheerfully.
Fred was right in his prognostications of evil. Their independent bearing had already been remarked upon by the police, and their turn came sooner even than they expected.