FOOTNOTES:

[3] Lieutenant-Colonel C. E. E. Umphelby, who died of the wounds which he received during the fight, was forty-six years of age. He commanded the Victorian portion of the Royal Australian Regiment of Artillery. He joined the Victorian Militia Garrison Artillery in 1884, and in the following year was appointed lieutenant in the Permanent Artillery. He was promoted to be captain in 1888, major in 1891, and lieutenant-colonel in 1897. Sent to England by the Victorian Government in 1889, he passed through various artillery courses, including the long course at Shoeburyness. Lieutenant-Colonel Umphelby was attached to the staff of Major-General M. Clarke at Aldershot from June to August 1890. See vol. iii., “Victoria.”

CHAPTER IV
MAFEKING IN FEBRUARY

The investment was much less close than formerly. Owing to the increasing activity in other parts of the theatre of war, Colonel Baden-Powell was relieved of the pressing attentions that were previously bestowed on him. Now for the first time he found himself in touch with the outer world, for telegraphic communication was restored in the direction of Gaberones, about ninety miles north of Mafeking, and from thence a bi-weekly service of runners was instituted for the conveyance of letters and telegrams, of course at the owners’ risk. There was delight all round, and “Old Bathing Towel,” as contemporary Carthusians used irreverently to call him, made haste to rejoice the hearts of those at home with a report of his doings.

SLEEPLESS MAFEKING—HOT WORK IN THE TRENCHES.
Drawing by R. Caton Woodville.

On the 4th of February the etiquette of the Sabbath was broken by an accident. The machine-gun at Fort Ayr was fired, and the enemy was not slow to reply. Lieutenant Grenfell, unarmed and without a flag of truce, pluckily went out to tender apologies for the accident. He was met by the Boers, who exchanged for a flask of whisky two copies of the Standard and Diggers’ News, containing glowing accounts of Boer victories on the Tugela! It needed more than the contents of the flask to correct the dismay occasioned by the lamentable, if exaggerated, news of the abandonment of Spion Kop, and the inhabitants could only console themselves by remembering what a stupendous and gratuitous liar the Boer could be. Luckily for them, they only accepted half of the Dutchmen’s tales, and had learnt by experience that the art of editing Boer journals was dependent on imaginative rather than realistic talent. For instance, “one who knew” described the methods of Volkstem thus:—“When you knew it, something could be extracted. The key to the mystery was this: The paper always published the exact opposite of what had taken place. For instance, a few days before Cronje’s capture it had a grand headline—‘Cronje the Captor.’ And underneath came the astounding statement that Cronje had cornered 900 British Lancers on the Koodoosrand. Alas! for Cronje and his Lancers! They existed only in the editor’s fertile imagination.” So, notwithstanding the report of reverses elsewhere, the large heart of Mafeking was still bent on bursting its cramped shell. If antiquated methods of warfare were carried on in other parts of South Africa, they were certainly not pursued here, for Colonel Baden-Powell was a modern of the moderns. The secrets of the enemy’s tactics were at his fingers’ ends, and where science failed to match them resource came in. He knew how to make dynamite spit and scream and threaten; he studied the problem of tension and the art of playing on the nerves of his adversary, and Cronje’s remark, “Not men, but devils,” made as that redoubtable one shook the dust of Mafeking off his shoes, must have been the dearest compliment the Colonel’s heart could crave. The Colonel, in a despatch forwarded to Colonel Nicholson—an officer who, with a small column and armoured train, held Mangwe, Palapye, and other places on the rail—dated February 12, described his activities:—

“Mafeking, February 12.

“On the 3rd inst. our Nordenfeldt was chiefly occupied in preventing the enemy from completing their new work on the northern slope of the south-eastern heights. Assistance was rendered by our seven-pounder, emplaced in the bush to the east of Cannon Kopje. The enemy’s siege-gun replied vigorously. During that night the enemy were nervous and restless, and kept firing volleys at our working parties, being apparently apprehensive of attack. Their firing continued until dawn, when the work in our trenches ceased.

“There was a curious incident at Fort Ayr that Sunday. Our machine-gun there was fired accidentally, and the enemy replied. Lieutenant Grenfell went out and apologised for the accident. Though the gun had been fired and the enemy had replied, he did not take a flag of truce with him. The Boers met him, and exchanged two copies of the Standard and Diggers’ News for a flask of whisky.

“On Monday, the 5th, irregular shelling continued all day. In the evening heavy rains fell, but the enemy kept up the bombardment till midnight, firing a new incendiary shell, which, however, failed to take effect.

“On the 7th there was a desultory bombardment, and the sharpshooters were busy. On the 8th the enemy’s siege-gun fired one shell only.

“On the 11th the enemy were quiet, being engaged in fortifying their big gun emplacement, and generally preparing to resist attack from outside. A good deal of night-firing was exchanged between our outlying positions and those of the enemy, volleys being fired at short ranges.

“Next day the enemy were fairly quiet. Mr. Dall, a well-known citizen, was killed, and two Cape boys were wounded, while two natives in the town were killed and some four wounded.”

The circumstances of Mr. Dall’s death were deeply tragic, for his wife, who was in the women’s laager at the time, on hearing of the news was half-distracted by the shock. Owing to the grievous affair the dance that was to have taken place was postponed to the following day.

Facsimile of Issue of 25th January 1900 of the Mafeking Mail.

Colonel Baden-Powell issued an order which broke to the besieged the information that the Commander-in-Chief had requested them to hold on till May. Hearts dropped to zero! If properly conserved, it was believed that provisions might be eked out till the Queen’s birthday, but the quality of the fare was bad enough without consideration of the quantity. The men were tough, they were game for anything; but the women—helpless, worn, unnerved, surrounded by children, and limited to the confines of an insanitary laager—they made an additional tangle to the already knotty situation. The townsfolk going to the posts in the trenches, with their own lives in their hands, had upon them the burden of thought for those, their weaklier belongings, who were waning with anxiety and disease—waning many of them into their graves. Still the garrison grumbled little. It set out as Sabbath decoration for the forts and trenches some smart Union Jacks which had been worked by the ladies in the town, and the dauntless ones engaged in a concert, the programme of which was vastly appreciated. Here “B.-P.’s” well-known talents came in handy, for he played the Chevalier of the entertainment and displayed all the versatility of that renowned performer. From the æsthetic Paderewski (with his hair on) to a Whitechapel Coster is a good jump, but the gallant Colonel, who had so long impersonated Job to order of the British Government, was not to be defeated by minor representations, however various. After this joviality a ball was attempted, but alas! with sorry success. Before the gaily attired guests were well under way the uproar of Maxims and Mausers had begun. They tried to dance. It would have been a case of Nero fiddling while Rome was burning. A staff officer arrived ordering all to fall in. Soon there was a general stampede, officers fled to their posts, orderlies rushed off to sound the alarm, the galloping Maxim tore through the blue obscurity from the western outposts to the town; the Bechuanaland Rifles and the Protectorate Regiment hurried to the brickfields, the Cape Police made for the eastern advance posts, while the ladies, charming, disconsolate, hied them precipitately to places of refuge. There, in the lambent beams of the moon, were seen excited shadows, all either rushing to their bomb-proof shelters or scudding to the sniping posts of the river. Showers of bullets flecked the sapphire air, and the exquisite serene night was changed into a long, wakeful, quaking anguish. The Boers kept up their firing operations throughout the small hours, but at dawn, when they received a quid pro quo from the British quarter, they deemed it best to subdue their ardour for a brief space. Rest was short-lived. On the 13th the gunners again made themselves offensive by endeavouring to hit the flour-mill, and they succeeded in their efforts, though fortunately without destroying it. They pursued their murderous industries throughout the day, pouring bullets on any one who dared to show a nose in the open, and about noon succeeded in seriously wounding Captain Girdwood, who was returning to luncheon on his bicycle.

The unfortunate officer—one of the most popular fellows and as gallant as he was jolly—never rallied after receiving the fatal wound and died on the following day. In the evening he was buried. The solemn rite was conducted with simplicity under the mild moonbeams which silvered the gloomy scene and softened the rigid faces of the bronzed warriors who hung in melancholy regret round the open grave.

The Boers sometimes endeavoured to affect jocosity. From the advanced trench, which was some hundred and ten yards from the besiegers’ main trench, their voices could be heard travelling on the breeze. The prelude to their attacks began not seldom with “Here’s a good morning to you, Mafeking,” or other remarks of cheery or personal nature. Then rattle, rattle, and one of the British band would drop. On one of these occasions an amusing if tragic ruse was perpetrated. The Boers were known to be fond of music, and some one of the tormented hit on the happy idea of performing for the benefit of the hostile audience. The savage breast was soothed. The Boers were “drawn.” They stopped to listen. Enraptured, they advanced nearer, nearer. Finally, two enthusiastic, inquisitive heads protruded from cover—protruded never to protrude again!

The Boers soon began to try the expedient of attacking Mafeking by proxy. Assaults were made, or rather attempted, by a mongrel force, composed largely of mercenaries—Germans, Scandinavians, Frenchmen, and renegade Irish (probably “returned empties” from the gallant Emerald Isle), ne’er-do-weel’s, who felt it necessary at times to do something for their living. These were assisted by natives, who were pressed into their service to make a convenient padding for their front in advance, for their rear in retreat, as they took good care to save their own hides when retirement was obligatory.

Fortunately their artillery practice, which was patiently kept up, was very inferior, otherwise Mafeking would soon have been in ruins. On one afternoon the enemy plied his siege-gun and another gun with great vigour. Out of eight rounds one shot besprinkled two of the besieged with dust; a 5-pounder gun from one quarter and a 1-pounder Maxim from another filled the air with deplorable detonations for two whole hours, yet happily no life was lost. To this hot fire the inhabitants replied only with their rifles. It was wonderful in what good stead their rifles had stood them, and it was thanks to them, and not to the Government, that the town had been saved at all.

The difficulties both at Kimberley and Mafeking were the result of the obstructive policy adopted by the Colonial Government before the outbreak of hostilities. While the storm-cloud hung on the horizon, Kimberley had appealed to Mr. Schreiner for permission to send up from Port Elizabeth Maxims which had been ordered by the De Beers Company, and the licence was refused on the ground that there was no necessity to strengthen the defences of the town. The appeals from Mafeking were treated in much the same way, the authorities at the Cape suggesting that there was no reason to believe that the situation demanded extra precautions!

Ingenuity and pluck had been the backbone of British defence, not British guns. An ordnance factory was established, and excellent shells were cast, and even powder manufactured. Thus the alarm lest ammunition should run out before the arrival of relief was allayed. The great ambition of the garrison was to complete a 5½-inch howitzer, and throw “home-made shells from a home-made gun with home-made powder.”

Major Baillie described with some pride the self-contained nature of the community: “We have our bank, our ordnance factory, and our police; and we flourish under a beneficent and remote autocracy. And now, as regards the ordnance factory, it was started for the manufacture of shells for our 7-pounder, for shot, brass and iron, for our antique cannon, and for the adaptation of 5-pounder shells (left here by Dr. Jameson) to our 7-pounders by the addition of enlarged driving-bands. These have all proved a complete success, and too much praise cannot be given to Connely and Cloughlan of the Locomotive Department, who have organised and run the factory. As great a triumph has been the manufacture of powder and the invention of fuses by Lieutenant Daniels, British South Africa Police and the Glamorgan Artillery Militia, which render us secure against running short of ammunition. A gun also is being manufactured, and will shortly be used. This factory is of long standing, but the authorities had not allowed us to allude to its existence.”

Other manufactures, too, were commenced, for manufacture it must be called—the art of making the poor skeletons, at one time known as horses, into succulent meat. Some declared that the number of cats and dogs was visibly thinning, but none dared pry too closely into the workings of the wonderful machinery that fed them. A number of the Protectorate Regiment’s horses were slaughtered, and any others that were shot by the enemy were passed on to the commissariat.

A soup-kitchen, under the supervision of Captain Wilson, was opened for the purpose of supplying some 600 natives with nourishing food, and rendering them contented with the vicissitudes of fate. The compound was scarcely inviting, and resembled a third-rate haggis. In two great boilers scraps of such meat as could be gathered together were simmered down, and to this immense stockpot was added various meals, which gave the mess the necessary consistency. The natives bought it eagerly at 6d. a quart, and really rejoiced in it.

The blacks, indeed, suffered less than the whites. The latter were paying a guinea a day for very scant fare, while the Baralongs, who were earning from 1s. to 2s. 6d. a day, were able to sustain life on half their wages, and save the rest to buy luxuries, a wife possibly, when the stress of the siege was over. The young children suffered most of all, for malaria and unsuitable food played havoc in the women’s laager, and the graveyard was filled with small victims to the Imperial cause.

About the middle of the month the Boers became abnormally active, and for several days sounds of digging and picking suggested that they were throwing out new trenches beyond those they already manned in the region of the brickfields. The full significance of the activity was discovered by Sergeant-Major Taylor, who—in charge of three pits which formed the most advanced post—suddenly espied, some fifty yards in advance of the limit of the Boer trenches, a hostile figure! The apparition wore a German uniform, and Sergeant-Major Taylor was soon aware that the enemy were intending to sap the British position. Colonel Baden-Powell was informed of the impending danger, and at night a counter-sap extending 100 yards was thrown out, from which point it would be possible for the besieged to fire on the new work. The tension of the situation was extreme. Eighty yards only separated the combatants, and the enemy continued to burrow, approaching little by little, while the British continued to harass them in their labours by an active fusillade whenever a chance presented itself. But the operations continued, and every hour brought the Boers nearer. At last a night came when the enemy had almost reached his goal, and, moreover, had moved the Creusot gun to a position on the south-eastern heights so as to command the entire area. With due precaution the defenders tried to occupy the advanced posts, but the Boer firing was so correct and persistent that the position was rendered untenable. Sergeant-Major Taylor, a splendid fellow—who more than once had ventured eavesdropping to the edge of the Boer trenches—and four others were mown down in their gallant efforts to save the situation. The enemy, satisfied with his exertions in this direction, now began to turn his attention to the forts in the rear—a bad move, for while the Dutchmen hammered in that region the British rapidly seized the occasion to construct a traverse across the mouth of the sap. This, of course, was not carried forward without attracting the attention of the enemy, who fired fast and furiously. But the task was accomplished, after which the Boers and the British, worn out, rested from their hostilities. For a day and a night the Boers were in occupation of the advanced hole and the sap that had been carried from it, but it was soon recaptured, and the connection made with the Boer trenches blown up with dynamite.

On the 20th the Protectorate Regiment gave a dinner, which turned out to be quite a luxurious repast. Invitations were supplemented by the request to bring their own bread! Some of the officers shot a few locust-birds, small as quail, which, when carved judiciously, went round among the guests. Added to this there was a sucking pig, obtained none knew whence, but nevertheless most welcome.

On the 22nd, Sergeant-Major Looney of the Commissariat was sentenced to five years penal servitude for the misappropriation of comestibles and stores, which had been going on for some time. The Commissariat was reorganised by Captain Ryan (Army Service Corps) with untiring energy and economy. To the soup-kitchen went everything, scraps of meat, or hoof, meal, unsifted oats, bran, all were turned to account, and food of a sustaining, if not luxurious kind, was provided for every one. At this time the Boers were growing despondent, and began to doubt their chance of forcing the town to surrender. From a conversation overheard by some wary ones who had crept close to the enemy’s trenches, it appeared that President Steyn had urged Commandant Snyman to carry the town by storm, and afterwards to come to the rescue of the Free Staters with his force, but the Burghers had expressed their opinion that it was now too late to take Mafeking—they should have done so the first week.

The inhabitants were very pleased with their own ingenuity, and in their ordnance workshops the manufacture of shot and shell went on apace. The mechanics of the railway works, by a system which seemed to act on the lines of a conjuring trick, turned out from the shell-factory about fifty rounds a day. No waste was allowed. Even the fragments of the enemy’s shells were utilised. These and scraps of cast iron were purchased at twopence a pound for smelting, and twopence, it must be remembered, was now a magnificent disbursement, as money was growing more and more scarce. Curiously enough, the present foreman, Conolly, was at one time manager of the shell department of the ordnance factory at Pretoria, where he personally supervised the manufacture of the larger shells. He now necessarily took a parental interest in the shells flung into Mafeking by the Boers’ Creusot gun, and also in those new ones that were flung out of Mafeking as a result of his own and others’ inventive genius! A good deal of shelling took place, and that on the 23rd was said to be a salute in honour of Independence Day in the Orange Free State. The inhabitants of Mafeking would not have grudged their enemies the, to them, distressing attempt at festivity had they then known that four days later the death-blow of that independence would be struck, and the salute was destined to be the last in the history of the Republics!

Fare was growing more and more meagre. Horse-flesh was diversified by bread made from horse forage; water, to say the least of it, was becoming interesting only to bacteriologists. The native population for the most part starved; they now and then indulged in a raid and brought back fat fare, which for a day or two had a visible effect upon their ebon skeletons, but they brought it at the risk of their lives.

Uninterrupted deluges of rain made existence a perpetual misery, the trenches and also the bomb-proof shelters were flooded, and the hapless inhabitants, saturated, fled into the open, uncertain whether death by fire was not preferable to death by water. The first, at all events, promised to be expeditious, while the second offered prospects of prolonged sousing and exquisite tortures of enduring rheumatism. Daily the state of affairs became less tolerable. Typhoid and malaria stalked abroad, and in the children’s and women’s laager diphtheria had set in.

On the 25th a message was received from the Queen. Its effect was electrical. It was vastly heartening to feel and to know that the great Sovereign herself knew and sympathised with the history of the struggles and privations, the loyalty and pluck of this little hamlet in a remote corner of Her Majesty’s possessions. It seemed more possible now to starve patriotically, and, with every mouthful of nauseating mule or horse, to put aside personal discomfort and to remember the gracious fact that each individual was a symbol, a sorry and dilapidated one perhaps, but nevertheless a symbol of the majesty and might of Greater Britain. In addition to the royal message there came two days later the stimulating intelligence that Kimberley had been relieved, and that Lord Roberts was advancing on Bloemfontein!

On Majuba Day, all made sure that some sort of attack might be expected, and they prepared to welcome it with a salute from the new howitzer gun which had engaged the genius of the siege arsenal. The Boers, however, were quiet. A good deal of psalm-singing took place in the Boer camp, while the besieged put the big gun through his paces.

Ash Wednesday was observed without sackcloth and ashes. Mafeking had been enjoying Lenten abstinence for months past, and therefore when, at the service on the following Sabbath, the parson reminded them that it was the fast season, every one in the church enjoyed the joke so hugely that smiles were with difficulty suppressed. As one of the congregation afterwards suggested, they had had so much “Extra Special” fasting that they ought to be let off Lenten obligations for five years.

SOUTH AFRICAN LIGHT HORSE (Trooper).BRABANT’S HORSE (Trooper).DUKE OF EDINBURGH’S VOLUNTEER RIFLES (Dispatch Rider).

CHAPTER V
AT CHIEVELEY AGAIN

On the 8th of February General Buller again retired across the Tugela. He realised that his whole flanking movement had been a failure, and though the ill-success has been attributed to many causes, we may safely say that the main cause of the fiasco was the insufficient rapidity with which the scheme was conducted. Napoleon declared that flank marches should be as short, and executed in as brief a time, as possible. Celerity and concealment in these cases must go hand in hand, and when celerity is overlooked concealment becomes impossible. Delay had given the Boers the opportunity to shift their positions and produce a new front even more powerful than that at Colenso. The General’s idea had been, after taking Vaal Krantz, to entrench it as the pivot of further operations, but the experience of two days’ hard fighting taught him that, owing to the nature of the ground, and the despatch of the Dutchmen, the plan was far from practicable. The position was found to be dominated in every direction by the enemy, and unless Vaal Krantz could be held securely during the advance to Ladysmith, it was thought advisable not to hold it at all. For this reason the Natal Field Force returned to Chieveley, the original scene of operations, where the “Red Bull,” as the Boers called him, with indomitable energy, planned out a fourth scheme of attack. It was now to be directed against the Boer left. The battle of the 15th of December was mainly directed against the Boer right, as there were reasons to believe the right to be the weaker of the two flanks. That attack had failed for reasons we know. Circumstances having changed, and more guns and men being now at his disposal, the General determined to direct his energies to the Boer left. The task was a complicated one. Both river and hills twist themselves mysteriously, and seemingly in conspiracy with Boer notions of defence. For instance, the river after leaving Colenso (which may be looked upon as the Boer centre) twists invisibly into the shelter of the impregnable kopjes, and takes a direct turn towards the north, thereby passing in front of the Boer right and in rear of the Boer left. By taking to themselves possession of Hlangwane the enemy had made their position almost unassailable. This formidable left ran in a series of trenches, sangars, and rifle-pits from Colenso past the thorn-bushes by the river, and on to the powerfully fortified hill of Hlangwane. From thence it was extended over the ridge called Green Hill, and farther to the companion eminences of Cingolo and Monte Cristo, and the nek that united them. The first thing, therefore, to be done in a plan for turning this formidable position was to take possession of Hussar Hill, which was accomplished on the 14th of February, from which day and on till the 27th fighting without cessation took place. Some one called it the fighting march, for it was a series of ferociously contested moves from Chieveley to Hussar Hill, and thence via Cingolo Nek and Monte Cristo Ridge till the Boer line had been turned and the British forces had placed themselves diagonally across the left of the Boer position. Having worked round in a species of hoop, which crumpled the Boer left before it, and having deposited men and guns to mark as milestones the victorious advance, a frontal advance was soon made on Green Hill, the adjacent slope some three miles from Hlangwane, which mountain became, as a natural consequence of the foregoing proceedings, a somewhat easy prize. The victory at Monte Cristo, which enabled us to acquire Green Hill, may be looked upon as the turning of the tide. From the hour that commanding point was occupied the future of the relieving army was practically secure, for the river was gained, and the Boers once on the run, there needed only the fine fighting quality of our troops—the A1 quality of the world—to bring things to a satisfactory conclusion. But now to try to follow this complicated and well-considered march.

On the 12th of February a force of mounted infantry, with a battalion of infantry, a field-battery, and a Colt battery, reconnoitred Hussar Hill (so called because it was the scene of the surprise to a picket of the 13th Hussars), a long ridge situated at the south of Hlangwane, where General Buller subsequently established his headquarters. The South African Light Horse and another Colt battery were treated to some fierce volleys by the enemy, with the result that Lieutenant J. Churchill and another officer were wounded. Four men were injured and one was missing. The fight was a brisk one, though of but half-an-hour’s duration, for the hill was not strongly held. The troops then moved forwards, winding through a series of wooded ridges to the right, till they reached an entrenched ridge connecting Hlangwane with higher hills on the east. As there were continual increases and changes in regard to the troops, it will be found advisable, before going further, to refer to a table of the distribution of the forces as far as they were then known:—

SIR REDVERS BULLER’S FORCE

Second Division.—(Major-General Lyttelton).—2nd (Hildyard’s) Brigade—2nd East Surrey; 2nd West Yorks; 2nd Devons; 2nd West Surrey. 4th (Norcott’s Brigade)—1st Rifle Brigade; 1st Durham Light Infantry; 3rd King’s Royal Rifles; 2nd Scottish Rifles (Cameronians); Squadron 13th Hussars; 7th, 14th, and 66th Field Batteries.

Third Division.—5th (Hart’s) Brigade—1st Royal Inniskilling Fusiliers; 1st Connaught Rangers; 2nd Royal Dublin Fusiliers; 1st Border. 6th (Barton’s) Brigade—2nd Royal Fusiliers; 2nd Royal Scots Fusiliers; 1st Royal Welsh Fusiliers; 2nd Royal Irish Fusiliers; Squadron 13th Hussars; 63rd, 64th, and 73rd Field Batteries.

Fifth Division.—(Lieutenant-General Sir Charles Warren).—10th (Coke’s) Brigade—2nd Dorset; 2nd Middlesex; 2nd Somerset Light Infantry. 11th (Wynne’s) Brigade—2nd Royal Lancaster; 2nd Lancashire Fusiliers; 1st South Lancashire; 1st York and Lancaster; Squadron 13th Hussars; 19th, 20th, and 28th Field Batteries. Corps Troops—1st Royal Dublin Fusiliers; Imperial Light Infantry; Thorneycroft’s Mounted Infantry; 61st Field Battery (Howitzers); 78th Field Battery; Natal Battery, 9-pounders; twelve Naval 12-pounder quick-firers; 4th Mountain Battery; two 4.7 Naval guns, 1st Cavalry Brigade (Burn-Murdoch)—1st Royal Dragoons; 14th Hussars; Gough’s Composite Regiment. 2nd Cavalry Brigade (Dundonald)—Natal Carabineers (squadron); South African Light Horse (four squadrons); Imperial Light Horse (squadron); Natal Police (squadron).

General Lyttelton succeeded General Clery (disabled by blood-poisoning) in command of the Second Division, while Colonel Norcott (Rifle Brigade) temporarily took command of the Fourth Brigade.

On the 14th the army moved to occupy the new position on Hussar Hill. As we know, the irregular cavalry, the South African Horse, had secured the position, and some disappointed Boers who had thought to be beforehand with them had disappeared with much haste and not a little chagrin. After a short time Generals Wynne Coke, and Barton with their respective brigades joined Sir Charles Warren’s division, and bivouacked on the new ground. There was some trouble about water, as Hussar Hill was arid and the nearest river was some miles away. However, necessity is the mother of invention, and necessity brought to light a system of water-waggons by which a small but appreciable amount of water was carried to the troops. While this was going on above, General Lyttelton was moving to the east of Chieveley round the eastern spur of Hussar Hill.

Here during the afternoon a number of Boers hiding among the boulders and dense scrub made themselves obstreperous; but their fire was overcome by our artillery, and before long they were dislodged.

Little happened for two days save some artillery duelling, then an appreciable advance was made. A wooded hill called Cingolo, part of the range east of Hlangwane, was the next to be seized by an adroit flanking movement of the infantry. They gained and kept the top of the hill with but few casualties owing to the dense cover.

At dawn on the 17th a general advance was ordered. Consequently soon after midnight the business of movement began. At daybreak the cavalry under Lord Dundonald marched to discover the enemy’s left flank through the tangled and rugged country to the east—country so broken and wooded that on occasions it was impossible to ride, and all that could be done was to lead the horses through thicket, and thorns, and over boulders by the light of intelligence rather than military regime. And while this was going on the artillery was performing a boisterous symphony on seventy instruments, an aubade to awaken such Boers as might still be dozing in rock, ravine, or ridge in the regions of Hlangwane.

At last the troopers had wormed and torn and scrambled their way up the ridge, where, on arriving, the Boers accosted them with the music of musketry in tolerably fast time. Bullets whizzed and commenced to send the now well-known cataracts over the advancing troops, and for the moment it seemed to be a toss up as to whether the toil of gaining the position would be in vain. However, the Boers were in small number, and very soon they fell back, leaving the top of the hill before the advance of the Imperial Light Horse and the Natal Carabineers, who slew or captured some Burghers and horses. In their attack they were supported by the Queen’s, the right battalion of Hildyard’s attack, who had taken a short cut and came up in the nick of time, so that the Boers promptly scurried off and left the troops in undisturbed possession of Cingolo Hill.

The Scene of the Fighting at Monte Cristo Hill on February 19.
(From sketches taken during the action by Captain P. U. Vigors, 2nd Devon Regiment.)

Further important movements took place on the 18th. Through the operations of the day before, the Boers had been hunted along towards Monte Cristo, and from thence at daylight they commenced to pour Creusot shells on the British troops. The Queen’s, who had bivouacked on the northern slope of Cingolo, and came in for a good deal of fire, valiantly crossed the nek, and, supported by the rest of the 2nd Brigade under General Hildyard, assaulted and finally took the southern end of Monte Cristo. The 4th Brigade occupied the left or western slope. Operations were begun very early, and the long precipitous climb in a baking sun occupied till midday. The advance over country that is trellised with spruits, dongas, thorn-bush, and scrub at times was painfully slow, and the scrambling and stumbling, sometimes on all fours, to the roll and rattle of musketry and the banging of unseen and unlocatable guns occupied some hours. The words of the Scripture, “Eyes have they and see not,” might have been applied to this nerve-trying assault against hidden men with smokeless weapons. No sooner had the troops reached the top of Monte Cristo than they were assailed by a well-directed artillery fire from the direction of the invisible foe, shrapnel, Maxim, and Nordenfeldt guns pouring over the men as they advanced. But they steadily pushed on and up till at last they entirely routed the Boers. These, finding themselves in a desperate situation, took to their heels, leaving tents, food, biltong, lard, potatoes, onions, clothing, bridles, blankets, and Bibles behind them in disarray. In their retreat they were fired on by the cavalry, but they made small reply. Quantities of ammunition were captured, and, unfortunately for those who still maintained their respect for the enemy, several forms of expanding bullets. The Royal Welsh Fusiliers, supported by the rest of the 6th Brigade, assailed the eastern flank of the enemy’s position. The 2nd Brigade of Cavalry on the extreme right watched the eastern slopes of Monte Cristo, and drove back those of the enemy who scurried there to escape the artillery fire. They had been completely taken by surprise; they had expected the British to begin a frontal attack on Green Hill, a smooth grassy eminence sliced with the gashes of Boer entrenchments, some of these six feet in depth, others blasted in the solid rock. Assaulted now by big guns in front and flank, attacked in flank and rear, the enemy, without offering much resistance, evacuated their strong positions and fled across the Tugela. That their flight was precipitate was testified by the fact that they even left letters behind. One of these was from General Joubert in answer to a request for supports, in which he said these could not be sent; the position was sufficiently garrisoned with the men they had.

The crest of Monte Cristo gained, all at once took heart. This hill was the hinge on which all the subsequent movements turned. By means of it Green Hill and the frowning eminence of Hlangwane could become ours. From Hlangwane the whole western section of the great Colenso position could be rendered untenable by the enemy. This the Boers well knew, and this was the reason for their tough resistance on the dreadful 15th of December. Now, seeing us masters of Monte Cristo, they wisely decided to make themselves scarce. The British guns once mounted on Monte Cristo made a complete difference in the situation. It was now possible to enfilade many of the choice positions which for two months had been the snug hiding-places of the enemy. Now, in the distance, was visible—the subject of many dreams, many nightmares—Ladysmith. Around it, here and there, were dotted the enemy’s camps and hospitals—only eight miles away—a comfortable walking distance—eight miles ahead of our advanced lines! Ladysmith—an austere queen to be wooed, a fainting beauty to be won—so she had seemed, with lives risked and sacrificed like mere handfuls of sand for the sake of her, for a few yards of approach near to that cestus which engirdled all the grand British blood that had palpitated for our coming, so long, so very long. It was glorious merely to know that Ladysmith was now in sight of the British picquets: there was a sense of exhilaration in the thought of real progress after the ghastly six days at Spion Kop, the fluctuating four at Vaal Krantz, the fourteen in and out and round about the precincts of fatal Colenso. Success was now almost within a stone’s throw, and all hearts throbbed with expectation and confidence. All were in some way longing for the handclasp of those beleaguered men. There, in that cup of the hills were kindred; if not kindred, friends; if not friends, comrades in arms—comrades who had belonged to the same old regiments or “ground” with the same “crammers” at the same schools. And even for complete strangers there was a thrill of excitement, almost of exultation, at the prospect of coming in touch with these men, of grasping hands with renowned warriors, every one of whom had helped to illuminate one of the most sumptuous pages of the history of the nineteenth century.

The intense heat, the terrific toil, the unparalleled hardships were forgotten. The energy and dash of the troops, hitherto unfailing, were now redoubled. They had now taken possession of the most important ridge which pointed towards the frowning guardian eminence of the beleaguered concave—Bulwana Hill—and hopes were high and spirits exuberant. There remained but Pieter’s Hill between them and the imprisoned multitude. They now saw that the turn of the tide had arrived, and already they looked towards the distressed town, veiled in the haze of distance, and pictured the hour when their long spell of strain and turmoil should meet its reward. In this day’s fight, the Queens, the Scots Fusiliers, the Rifle Brigade, and the irregular cavalry had especially distinguished themselves. It was the distinction of endurance rather than of display. The dogged perseverance with which they launched themselves at the positions to be taken, toiling through scrub and thorn, “potting away” at an invisible foe, was more to be applauded than more demonstrative feats of heroism. Colenso and Spion Kop had been showy in their tragedy, but the “fighting march,” as it was called, was a feat of superb endurance, of obdurate pluck. A perpetual stumbling and tearing, an eternal pushing up and on against opposition the more terrifying because unseen; the sound of booming, smokeless murderous guns; the sight of maimed or mutilated human beings dropping suddenly under the serene and smiling sky were experiences to test the grit of the toughest and most stoical. A bolt from the blue! That was all. Yet presently there were dead men littered about, and far away, unconscious of their woe, were widows and orphans.

On the 19th, Hlangwane Hill—the impregnable Gibraltar, as it has been called—was taken by the Fusilier Brigade. As this hill, which commanded Colenso, had been evacuated by the enemy—who had left three camps and all their paraphernalia, thousands of rounds of ammunition, and 2000 Maxim automatic shells behind them—we were now free to cross the Tugela. Whether the enemy would continue to fight inch by inch was uncertain, but still there was one subject of rejoicing—the river was ours. The following officers were killed and wounded during this day’s operations:—2nd Royal Fusiliers—Killed, Captain W. L. Thurburn; wounded, 2nd Lieutenant E. C. Packe. 2nd Scottish Rifles—Wounded, 2nd Lieutenant J. M. Colchester-Wemyss.

On the 20th General Hart, after a slight resistance by a weak rearguard, occupied the village, and now the line of the Tugela on the south side from Colenso to Eagle’s Nest was in British hands.

Colenso was found to be a desolate ruin. The enemy had evidently tried to make matchwood of the place. Windows and doors told the tale of wanton destruction. They were wrecked past remedy. Houses everywhere were redolent of the Boer, the walls bore traces of his illiterate caligraphy, and his offensive remarks in many tongues amused without disturbing those who read them. They could afford to smile now. And while they went on their tour of investigation the hidden Boers could not resist some sniping shots from their trenches in Port Wylie, which were only silenced by the forcible arguments of the Naval gunners on Hussar Hill. On this day another trooper of the South African Light Horse (Walters) distinguished himself by swimming across the Tugela and bringing over the pontoon, thus repeating the gallant deed of his comrades at Potgieter’s Drift. Thorneycroft’s Mounted Infantry, though peppered by Boers who were ensconced on the kopjes on the opposite side, succeeded in fording the river, and proceeded to reconnoitre the kopjes on the other side. All the guns were gone, and the kopjes themselves seemed to be weakly held. In the distance small clusters of Boers were seen in the act of digging trenches, but it was generally believed that the enemy’s tactics were now those of a rearguard action.

THE RELIEF OF LADYSMITH—THE LAST RUSH AT HLANGWANE HILL.
From a Sketch by René Bull, War Artist.

Terrible reminiscences of the battle of Colenso greeted them wherever they turned. Fort Wylie was seamed with bombardment. The railway bridge remained a lamentable picture of upheaval. Outside the village, lying as they had dropped, were the rotted carcases of horses which had fallen victims to the enemy’s volleys—fallen in tangled masses, all harnessed together, while making a futile effort to save the guns of the 14th and 66th Batteries. The trenches, beginning on the very brink of the river, with their protective layers of sandbags and their ingeniously arranged earthworks, told how comfortably and with what immunity from danger the Boers had set about their fell work on the fatal 15th of December. The labour in making Colenso and its surroundings impregnable must have been as immense as it was skilful.

General Hart’s advanced guard now proceeded to cross the Tugela, the Boers having vacated all their positions south of the river, and on the 21st he was followed by the 5th Division, who drove back the enemy’s rearguard. The enemy had moved north and turned into a strongly fortified line of kopjes midway between the river and Grobler’s Kloof, and from thence there was some doubt whether he could ever be displaced. At the approach of the British, he, however, retired precipitately towards Grobler’s Kloof.

The crossing, on both days, of the magnificent infantry was apiece with all that had gone before. First came one shell, then another, but the troops steadily pursued their warlike course while the missiles hurtling over their heads exploded in the plain behind them. The great question had been as to where the river should be crossed. Now that the British were in possession of the whole area of Hlangwane and its connecting hills, it was possible to cross either where the river ran north and south, or where it ran east and west. The idea was to cross and get along the line of railroad, and follow a straight course up to Ladysmith. The enemy were believed to be in retreat, and therefore it seemed perfectly feasible to advance in the way attempted.

On the 21st the gunners continued persistently at work, determining that the Dutchmen should have no spare time for the building of further entrenchments. The foe managed, however, to render themselves aggressive by firing on an ambulance train that was steaming out of Colenso station. Meanwhile the army was moving westward from Hlangwane plateau, with a view to marching up beyond the stream, and getting out of the valley of the river and beyond the kopjes that frowned over it.