AFFAIRS IN RHODESIA

The Rhodesian troops were now at Moshwana, British Bechuanaland, in camp some thirty miles from Mafeking. The small force with a single serviceable gun could really accomplish little, and it was marvellous, considering its extreme weakness, how it managed to maintain the aggressive at all.

Early in April Colonel Plumer started a pigeon post, and the first pigeon despatched arrived at Mafeking within four hours. The second was not so fortunate, but later on the successful bird was sent off again, on an educational trip, with younger birds in its wake.

On the 22nd Trooper Brindal of the Rhodesian Regiment died of the wounds sustained in the action on the 31st of March. Archdeacon Upcher and Father Hartman returned from the sad mission of discovering and burying the remains of Lieutenant Milligan, who fell at Ramathlabama. The enemy now were being reinforced from time to time by parties from east and south, and as far as could be ascertained by Colonel Plumer, who sent out native runners to apprise him of the doings of the southern relief column, the Boers around Mafeking numbered about 3000.

On the 24th General Carrington’s force, consisting of 1100 men, with mounts and transports, arrived at Beira, and proceeded from thence to Marandellas, twenty-five miles from Salisbury, the capital of Rhodesia. The route, the first 200 miles of which is through Portuguese territory, is covered by railway. The distance from Beira to Salisbury is some 375 miles. The Beira railway was carried in 1898 as far as New Umtali, where it was connected with the system of the Mashonaland Railway Company. At Salisbury the railway ceases, and between this point and Bulawayo, the terminus of the Cape Railway, a space of 280 miles needed to be covered by an extension. From Bulawayo all promised to be plain sailing, as, owing to the untiring energies of Colonel Plumer and his small force—whose valuable services have never been sufficiently esteemed—the road and rail to Mafeking had been protected and preserved.

On the 28th, Lieutenant Moorson left Mafeking and reached Colonel Plumer’s camp at noon of the 29th, conveying to him the latest intelligence, and helping him to formulate plans for the big project of relief which will be described anon.

CHAPTER III
THE SIEGE OF WEPENER

Early in April a portion of the Colonial Division, composed of Cape Mounted Rifles, the Royal Scots Mounted Infantry, Driscoll’s Scouts, Kaffrarian Mounted Rifles under Captain Price, Brabant’s Horse, two 15-pounders, two naval 12-pounders, two 7-pounders, one Hotchkiss, and three Maxims, the whole force under Colonel Dalgety, crossed the Caledon Bridge at Jammersberg Drift, took possession of it as the most important strategetical point, and occupied the town of Wepener without opposition. The Colonel had no sooner done so than he was surrounded by Dutchmen, and made aware that he must prepare to stand a siege. A party of Boers accompanying a German officer, who were blindfolded before being brought in, now entered Wepener bearing a message from the commandant. He very kindly demanded the instant surrender of the British to save further bloodshed. The messengers retired without taking with them a reply to the considerate request, but asking whether some mistake had not been made, and inviting their surrender instead. As the Boers were now threatening an attack on the force, Sir G. Lagden demanded a demonstration by the Basutos on the Basuto border. This was readily responded to, for the nation naturally resented any invasion of their territory by their hereditary foes; and, moreover, the chiefs had been vastly impressed by the “big heart” of the Englishmen with whom they had come in contact, and their stubborn resistance of the Boer attacks. Wepener itself was evacuated, but a camp at Jammersberg, three miles off, was formed, entrenchments made, and defences ingeniously constructed. The position, somewhat resembling Ladysmith, was situated in the saucer-shaped hollow of many hills. It was practically isolated, but the lines were strong, and meat was plentiful.

Colonel Dalgety, who commanded the gallant little force, is an old officer of the Cape Mounted Rifles, and has as a record of services the Gaika and Galeka expeditions, and the operations in Basutoland in 1880-81. He had no doubt in his ability to hold out against the besiegers, although the force was only 1700 to 1800 strong, and the position was really too extensive. To protect it properly required about 4000 men. The Cape Mounted Rifles, with a company of Royal Scots, were ordered to hold the left of the position, the weakest point; 1st Brabants and some Kaffrarian Rifles the front; 2nd Brabants the right; and Kaffrarian Rifles the rear.

A stirring day’s work was recorded on the 8th by an officer, whose experiences were published in the Globe:—

“April 8, 7 A.M.—As I write, with my back against the trench, we have reached the fifth day of the noisy concert without any appreciable result, except that we have expended most of our ammunition. Not a gun has been dismounted, not an inch of our long line of defence (ten miles, about) been yielded to the enemy; but about 150 gallant fellows, mostly gentlemen by birth, of the Colonial Division, are hors de combat, and we are still looking and longing to see the relief columns of Kitchener or Gatacre appear on the horizon.... While sitting chatting with Captain Cholmondley, I saw across the ravine my own squadron, ‘M,’ descending rapidly into the valley to reoccupy the rifle-pits which Ruttledge had vacated at daylight, and exposed to a heavy shrapnel fire. I scrambled down the ridge and joined them at the pits, but had scarcely got my men posted, when Cookson was seen coming towards us at a mad gallop. My orders were to leave one troop (Ruttledge’s) in the rifle-pits, and take the other three to support Colonel Dalgety, who was hard pressed on our left rear. I should have to cross a plain swept by the Boer fire.

“When I had climbed up the steep ravine on the top of the main ridge we found all our horses hidden away in a fold of the ground. To mount was the work of a minute, and then we were launched on our mad gallop across a plain swept by Boer Maxim and rifle fire. I led, and the men followed most gallantly into the ‘jaws of death.’ Nothing but annihilation seemed to await us; but on we swept over that mile and a half like wild men, an excited American, constantly by my side and sometimes ahead of me, shouting, ‘In the joy of battle.’ It was, I think, the most exciting quarter of an hour I have spent in my adventurous life. My horse was going at racing pace, when suddenly I came upon a kranze, down which I leaped in fox-hunting style. I thought this would finish all my bad riders; but although they tailed off somewhat into a longer line than the open order I had ordered, they were still in the ruck, and we all came together somewhat too closely at a wire fence, which brought us to a standstill. Having negotiated this, we came upon another similar one, which we all got through somehow. All this time the little columns of dust were rising all round and constantly under my horse’s belly. Again we were brought up by a deep donga, along which we had to turn to our right and skirt it till it was negotiable, where the banks had been cut down on each side for the horses of the C.M.R. to cross. I made then for a group of dismounted horses held in shelter behind a strong causeway. Here was Dalgety, to whom I reported myself. In a few minutes the Boers brought another gun into position, which sent a shell into us, killing four gun mules linked together in their harness, six troop horses, one of mine, and one nigger, who was holding the mules. They fell in a heap, and presented a most gruesome appearance. One or two men were also wounded by the same shell, which was the signal for a skurry for shelter behind huge boulders. The horses were sent down to the donga before mentioned, where, though sheltered from shot and shell, they spent four miserable days, until at last a heavy rain filled the donga, and some of the horses were swimming. All had had their saddles on from the first day. Some of these had been torn off by the horses’ frantic efforts to get out, and were lost in the mud. Finally they all got out, and covered the plains under the Boer fire. Many of them were shot.

“After the deadly shell I began to count up my men and find out how many were missing after the charge across the plain, and the last dose of shrapnel. To my surprise, they all answered to their names excepting two. Macarthy had been struck full in the forehead by a Mauser bullet, and fell from his horse as one dead. He is now recovering. Reid, an American, was shot through the side and arm, and is also recovering. Turner, my senior lieutenant, had been struck in the hip with a bit of segment shell, but stuck most pluckily to his post.”

The officer went on to narrate an episode which deserves to be remembered among the deeds of heroism which distinguished this notable period: “Coming across from the C.M.R. lines towards the Kaffrarian lines was a stretcher carried by four men with a wounded man on it. As soon as it came from under the shelter of the kopje on which we and the C.M.R. live, about 1200 yards from the ridge held by the enemy, opposite the open end of the horse-shoe, it was received by a hail of bullets. On went the gallant bearers for about a hundred yards, when they came to a sudden stand, put the stretcher on the ground, and seemed to consult. First one ran about twenty yards, to fall, apparently shot dead; then another did the same, and the third; and the three corpses were lying on the ground. The fourth man fell on his knees between the stretcher and the enemy. The Boers, then satisfied that they had disposed of this lot, ceased firing at them for the space of some minutes, when suddenly the four dead men came to life, rushed to the stretcher, and went on with it at the double, though little columns of dust rose thicker than ever round the devoted bearers. When they had crossed the fire zone and came under the shelter of a small kopje, something very like a cheer rose from the three hundred spectators of this exciting scene. Putting the breach of the Geneva Convention out of the question, there could not be a better exemplification of the savagery of the Boers. Even a savage foe would have respected such courage as these men showed in their efforts to save their wounded comrade. The wounded man turned out to be Captain Goldsworthy of the C.M.R., wounded in two places, whom I afterwards saw in hospital here, and the one who shielded him with his own body was a young trumpeter in the C.M.R., who, I believe, will get the V.C.”

(Corporal)(Sergeant)

On the 8th a commando some 2000 strong, with four guns, laagered five miles out in the direction of Dewetsdorp, and on the 9th the town of Wepener was occupied by the Boers, who, in number from 5000 to 6000, spread themselves crescentwise around the British position. Not long were they inactive. Their guns began to open on the camp, and received a prompt answer from the 15-pounders. A vigorous artillery duel, involving great loss to the besieged, was then kept up throughout the day.

A member of the stalwart band gave his impressions of the first days of the fighting: “The brave lot of fellows of the C.M.R. were stormed at until we almost gave up hope that any human being could stand against it; but very fortunately for us they did so, and although the Boers came almost behind them and enfiladed their trenches, killing and wounding between sixty and seventy of the regiment. Goodness knows how many of the Boers were killed. Their losses must have been great, no matter what they may say afterwards. Towards daylight the enemy retired to their former position, and at daybreak the fight went merrily on its way, but, luckily, shifted from the poor played-out C.M.R. for a few hours. Major Sprenger, poor fellow, was simply riddled with bullets. Captain Goldsworthy and Major Waring, together with several other officers, were wounded, and now the C.M.R. are commanded by only a few officers, including their most gallant Colonel Dalgety. Captain Cookson, another of their officers, is an especial favourite with our men, as he looks after them as well as his own men in action. He fears no dangers, and so instils confidence into others.

“All went well with us until the good-night shell, which bursts over our camp about six o’clock each night, arrived. Cookson and I were superintending the sending of the food to the trenches, where our brave men were so bravely holding their own, when I heard the whistle of the shell and heard it burst, and simultaneously was knocked down by a shrapnel bullet, which, fortunately for yours truly, did not penetrate far into my thigh. As no bones were broken, I hope—in fact, I am sure—I shall be able to walk in a day or two from now. Lieutenant Duncan, also wounded in the leg, and myself were placed in a small schanze, erected for the purpose, but as there was no roof to it, and the rain poured for hours during the night, we were soaked to the bone. It could not be helped, there being no other place in which to put us; so we did not complain. It was just as well we did not go to the hospital, which is already overcrowded—no fewer than 110 wounded men there—as I learn that one of our wounded men was yesterday killed in it with a Boer bullet; in fact, the Boers several times fired at it. We now have a waggon sail over our schanze, and feel nice and comfortable. We expect to be able to move about by Easter Sunday. Captain Hamilton has been very kind; comes to visit us two or three times a day, and runs a strong chance of being shot, as the snipers shoot at every one who shows himself. He is only one of the lot; they are all the same.”

The Defence of Wepener. (From a Sketch by Major A. Festing.)

On Tuesday, the 10th, came more duelling. In the morning with artillery, in the afternoon with rifles. The Cape Mounted Rifles did good execution, for the Boers who had approached to 250 yards of their position were forced to remove. An officer of Brabant’s Horse spoke most enthusiastically of the C.M.R. He said:—

“We fought all day and all night. The big gun and rifle fire were almost deafening, and as we are entirely surrounded, it was pouring in on all sides, a continuous hail of shot and shell. Towards afternoon they directed all their gun fire to one spot, and blew to bits the schanzes of the C.M.R., thus leaving them almost unprotected, and in the night they attempted to take the position by assault. Although the C.M.R. were very considerably outnumbered, the Boers were unable to attain their object. They had not reckoned on the opposition of, undoubtedly, one of the finest regiments in the whole world, as the C.M.R. are. We (1st Brabants) were unable to send reinforcements to the gallant fellows, as we expected an attack ourselves at any moment, and our position is such an extended one, that it required every man to hold it. If only we had a few hundreds more to hold the trenches with us, and an ample supply of ammunition, we would be quite happy.”

The scarcity of ammunition began to cause anxiety, and also the condition of the atmosphere. The air was almost unbreathable. Fumes from dead horses, cows, pigs, which were strewed on the surrounding plains, rose in sunshine or rain as from a caldron of pestilence. There was no avoiding them, and death by worse than shot and shell—by slow ravaging malaria, or greedy epidemic—seemed to be traced by the finger of expectation across the foul atmosphere. No longer was there pleasure in gazing out at the beautiful green hills, that but a little while ago had been speckled with white tents and draped with the ethereal gossamer of blue smoke from the fitful flame of the camp fires. War had sounded its most discordant note—hard—emphatic. The tents were all struck. On the ground they lay prone, battered by the pouring rain. Camp fires were now few and far between, and the only smoke to be seen came from the snorting nozzles of implements of death. The rattle of musketry made the melody of day and night. The men, huddled up in their trenches, rained on by heaven-sent storm, rained on by hell-sent shrapnel, unable to raise a head lest the movement would be their last, still remained glorious fellows, cheery, jocose, hailing the humours of their tragic position with shouts of laughter, and skipping, with true heroism, the ghastly and the terrible that thrust itself between them and their courage.

One of their number described the trenches as “simply ordinary trenches dug in the ground, with the earth and stones thrown out on the front side, strengthened by sand-bags. During the first day’s fighting they were not very good, and the heavy losses sustained were attributable to that fact. The men improved them during the night, however, and they grew and grew until they were really like rabbits burrowing into the ground. During the shelling men would sit or lie down under the bank, and it was wonderful how the trenches protected them. Some of the trenches had hundreds of shells fired into them during the day, and as long as the men kept well down, they got off comparatively lightly. It was a fearful strain, however, as you might be crouching behind a traverse of sand-bags, when thump would come a shell and knock the sand-bags all over the place, upon which you would have to skip into the traverse and expose yourself while doing so to a hail of bullets from the Boer snipers. As the Boers were all round us, they brought guns to bear from different points, so as to enfilade the trenches, so we had to build transverse walls, sand-bags, or traverses to protect ourselves. The front Cape Mounted Rifles’ trenches were fearfully battered during the day, and the tired men had to patch them up as best they could during the night. During the day we could not show our heads over the parapets, as there would immediately come a volley from the Boer riflemen.”

All the troops had unceasing work, but most of the casualties fell to the share of those in the southern position—the Cape Mounted Rifles, Captain Garner’s Squadron of Brabant’s Horse, Captain Seel’s Company of Royal Scots Mounted Infantry, and Driscoll’s energetic scouts. The Kaffrarians, commanded by Captain Price elsewhere in four different positions to east and west—took their share of the defence, while on the heights north-east and north-west, the 1st and 2nd Regiments of Brabant’s Horse, under Major Henderson and Colonel Grenfell respectively, also worked incessantly to protect the garrison.

The object of the concentration of the Boers around this region was supposed to be connected with offering opposition to General Brabant’s advance, but the Dutchmen in their policy were somewhat uneasy, owing to their close proximity to the Basuto border.

Their alarm was not without reason, for if there was a force eager to attack them it was the Basutos, and these were only held back from rushing into the fray by the personal influence of Sir Godfrey Lagden and his British colleagues, who can never sufficiently be applauded for the skill and diplomacy with which they managed to keep, by invisible moral coercion, a fiery horde from rushing over the borders and possibly massacring such Free Staters as came in their way. The Boers, however, were not conscious of this coercion, and consequently their action around Wepener was somewhat cramped, and thus it was that the little community managed to defy them. Meanwhile discomforts were many, and the clouds often emptied themselves like a vast shower-bath involving doused trenches, drenched clothing, and the suspension of operations. On the 11th a cheery message was received from Lord Kitchener, who paid a visit to Aliwal North, and from thence sent word that he hoped “for an early change” in the circumstances of the besieged. Spirits rose. What Kitchener, the adamantine, said was sure to be done. On Thursday, 12th, the fourth day of fierce fighting, the Boers continued their aggression all day. During the contest an entertaining interlude in the drama of warfare took place. The enemy was busy shelling one of the garrison’s 15-pounders, when a shot knocked off the left sight of Captain Lukin’s gun. The Captain, generous in his admiration, jumped on top of the gun and made a complimentary salaam to the Boer gunner. Later on, by using the reserve sight on the right side, he himself planked a shell right into the adversary’s gunpit, whereupon the officer in charge, imitating Captain Lukin’s example, promptly leapt up and bowed his congratulations!

During the night of the 12th the Dutchmen attempted another attack, but volley after volley was poured into them with such animation that by 4 A.M. they were glad enough to retire. Fortunately not a man was killed or wounded, and those who had so well defended themselves felt a somewhat natural satisfaction in seeing the Boer ambulances at work the next morning. Soon it was rumoured that the Boers were bringing up another gun, and the garrison, who were beginning to get tired of being peppered at by guns big and small, began to long for the arrival of reinforcements.

Friday the 13th, the following Saturday and Sunday, were used by the Boers for their Easter devotions—not that they were too devout to enjoy a little sniping in the intervals. Nasal hymns took the place of the snorts of Long Tom, but after the reiterations of the Vickers Maxim the Federals resumed their bombardment with renewed zest, and Oom Sam, the British howitzer, took up the tune. Unfortunately, the Dutchmen resorted to expansive bullets. One of the commandants tried to assert that these were captured from the British, but truth not being the Boer forte, no effort was made to refute the vile impeachment.

The garrison next made a dashing sortie and captured a Boer gun. Aggressive action was necessary. Reinforcements were daily reaching the besiegers, and hostile gangs were collecting in the vicinity of Dewetsdorp. These soon gathered round the plucky British force, which, to protect itself, launched out with such vigour that the Boers, especially the Zastrom Commando, who had assaulted to a jubilate, retreated to a dirge. The women wept, and the men themselves grew anxious, for the Basutos, warlike and excited, were massing on the border, and a sword of Damocles, in the form of an exasperated legion of natives, threatened to drop on the Dutchmen’s heads. They were getting into difficulties on all sides. One of Olivier’s guns was smashed, and another had been captured in the sortie by the Cape Mounted Rifles. But the energies of this sprightly corps had also cost them dear. During the four days’ fighting, from the 9th to the 13th, eighteen were slain and 132 wounded! The men on the south-western fringe fared worse even than the others. They feared to cook in their trenches lest they should attract the Boer fire, and meals brought from adjacent shelters were cold before they could reach them. Such reviving and inspiriting refreshment as hot tea or coffee was almost unknown, and as a natural consequence, particularly in such damp weather, warmth external and internal was most craved for and very generally missed. Washing was a luxury not to be thought of, indeed, a rain bath in a trench had to serve all purposes. The strain of such conditions on the men was most trying, and the account given by one of the officers was far from exaggerated. “They had to go into their trenches on the night of the 8th, and from then till the 25th they had to stay in them, crouching in them all day while being heavily shelled and ‘sniped’ at by the enemy’s riflemen. During the night a couple of men from each trench would be sent to the place near the centre of the position where the food was prepared and take it up to their comrades. Cooking could only be done at night in dongas, and behind cover, such as walls, &c., and by the time the food got to the men it was ice cold, so the poor fellows, or the majority, in the forward trenches did not get anything hot in the shape of food or drink for eighteen days. Night was a blessed relief, as they could get out of the trenches and stretch themselves, but to cap our misery we had several days’ heavy rain, and the trenches got full of water. The fellows had to bale it out with buckets, patrol tins, and even hats, I believe. Those rainy nights were awful, and the men were getting quite ‘jumpy.’ I really thought some of them would lose their reason, and was quite prepared to find some dead from exposure in the morning. However, the rain stopped in time, otherwise we would have been in great danger as the men could not have stood it. There is a limit to human endurance.”

The investment had no showy nor picturesque characteristics: it was just a case of stern resistance, of obdurate endurance, that was infinitely more exigent in its demands on the human character than the brilliant soul-stirring deeds of open battle. Fortunately the Boers were getting correspondingly uncomfortable. They had surrounded Wepener, it is true, but, with a native guard of some 3000 strong assembled to prevent any encroachments on the Basutoland border, they remained where they were at their peril, and every hour brought with it the chance of being hemmed in on all sides. Yet they stuck on, inspired with the belief that by some, for them, lucky chance Colonel Dalgety might drop into their hands. Meanwhile the natives were assisting the besieged to the best of their power, and the resident Commissioner at Mafeteng was exerting himself to provide ambulances and medical stores, in hope of being able to forward them should opportunity offer. The charitable arrangement was much appreciated, for the state of affairs was far from salubrious. Apart from sick and wounded, many of the Boers, after the night attack of the 12th, had left their comrades unburied, and the bodies were still lying in the mill furrow, to the distress of those shut up within the narrow confines of the camp. The Caledon River now rose and added to the alarm of the Federals, who were aware that if it should become in flood they would undoubtedly be cut off. At the same time those within the besieged area were also beginning to get additionally concerned. Ammunition for the howitzer was running low, and the rifle ammunition promised to hold out but for a very limited period. Messages were continually being received from Lord Roberts, who heliographed via Mafeteng congratulating the troops on their brave defence, and assuring them that he was keeping a watchful eye on them. This should have been consoling, but every hour, every instant, was now of importance. Still there was no lack of pluck. These men who had beaten the Boers three times were confident that they would make a good fight of it to the last. “We’ll not surrender till half of us are killed,” they said, and the gallant fellows, in their trenches, under a storm of shot and shell, pursued their games of cards as though they meant to “sit tight till Doomsday.” Of them an officer writing at this time said: “The defence, so far, has been heroic. In the Crimea twenty-four hours on and twenty-four hours off was considered hard work. My men have been ten days in their trenches without leaving them, wet to the skin oftener than not, and day and night exposed to shrapnel, not able to raise their hand above without getting a bullet through them, and yet not a grumble is heard. As I sit scrawling this in pencil, with my back against the damp earth, the jest goes round, and peals of laughter follow the sallies of your light-hearted countrymen from the Emerald Isle. I positively love these men, and shall never forget, in spite of the ague attacks and the racked head, the enjoyment of these hours spent packed, all arms and legs, in the mass of humanity which fills these trenches—the work of our own hands.”

They had tasted neither bread nor biscuits for a week. Fortunately they had meat in plenty, and occasionally certain meal-cakes which, though filling, brought about a sensation graphically described as “hippopotamus on the chest.” Some one declared they were quite as hard and nearly as damaging as Boer bullets!

In spite, however, of their assumed jocosity they could not but be cognisant of the fact that, what with damp and dysentery, irregular meals, tainted water, poor medical appliances, and indifferent stores, the future was threatening. Questions as to the coming of the promised relief began to be anxiously bandied about, and now and again a terrible doubt crept in that it might never come at all.

Easter Monday they thought of as Bank Holiday in England. They pictured the gay Cockney multitude scampering free in parks and sunshine while they, huddled together in a deluge of perpetual rain, were wondering if life in trenches was worth living. Then some one, a philosopher, declared you couldn’t get a daily rain-water bath at home for love or money, and they laughingly made the best of it. They wallowed in damp and mud, and counted on their fingers that there had been eight days of hard fighting, and wondered how many more they were good for. Books were scarce and conversation monotonous. “Any signs of Brabant or Gatacre?” some one would question. “None. I guess they’ve got lost somewhere.” “Any chance of the rain stopping?” “None. We shall have deluges to-morrow.” So passed the time between Job and his comforters.

Fighting proceeded wearily, spasmodically. The Boers too were damp, in spirit and in body, and the carols of Long Tom lost some of their demoniac mirth. Now and then the besiegers would smarten themselves up with a volley, occasionally they would snipe intermittently—a little venomous spitting at the obdurate, sturdy, magnificent fellows they had learned as much to respect as to detest. Still no relief column. Hoping, the men in their trenches puzzled and offered solutions for themselves.

“Perhaps the relievers had fallen into a trap,” said a pessimist.

“Oh no; the rain must have delayed them,” said some one more cheery.

“Perhaps the drifts are unpassable,” volunteered a third.

“I wonder if any of us will be left to receive them?” questioned the pessimist.

“Poof! only ten per cent. of us are disabled as yet!” chaffed the optimist lightly.

Though they did not know it, General Chermside, with the Third Division, had now marched about eight miles east of Reddersburg, and encamped in the locality where the Royal Irish Rifles surrendered. On the 19th a large body of the enemy was moving on with the apparent object of encountering General Brabant near Rouxville, and later on from the distance the muffled roar of musketry gave promise of the relieving action. Naturally, the spirits of the garrison began to rise, but their joy was short lived, for soon the Boers appeared on the west, and there brought five guns to bear on the British force. All day the round lips of the new visitors opened and hooted and spat! The Kaffrarian Rifles were treated to no less than 130 shrapnel shells. Brabant’s regiment and the Maxim kept up an active fire on the Boer gunners; but the guns were so cautiously protected that their efforts were crowned with small success. Even the redoubtable Captain Lukin failed to make his usual impression, for this officer had now decided that economy—economy of ammunition—must make the better part of Wepener valour. Major Maxwell, at dusk, with his cheery sappers, set to work to remedy the ravages of the day, but the prospect of affairs was not rendered more heartening by information which came in to the effect that Olivier, De Wet, Froneman, and others were closing in with their commandoes and mercenaries, numbering some 8000, from Rouxville, Smithfield, Ficksburg, and even from Ladybrand. This discovery caused no little anxiety. All were aware that Lord Roberts could and would come to their relief; but, nevertheless, it was impossible to ignore the fact that provisions began to dwindle and the poor trek oxen began to go, and no signs of a relieving column were evident. The officers and men were now on duty all night in the trenches—melancholy work, for deluges of rain made them sopping, and served to damp even the bellicose ardour of the most valorous.

LIEUT.-GENERAL SIR H. M. LESLIE-RUNDLE, K.C.B.
Photo by Russell & Sons, London

Their position by day, too, was pathetic in the extreme. It was impossible even for the most rollicking and dauntless to look unmoved to right or to left of him. Perhaps on one side he would be bounded by a “pal” doubled up and sweating with the agony of his wounds, while on the other would lie, clay-cold and immobile—with that unmistakable stiffness that they had learnt to know too well—a form that some moments before had been vibrant with humanity. In this entourage it was necessary throughout the long hours to keep up persistent fire at the enemy, and dodge and manœuvre so that the fate that loomed large and unforgetable on either hand might be kept at bay! Few indeed were in possession of a whole skin in these times—they fought, got wounded, went into hospital, came out partially healed and fought again, only to go back with fresh holes for repair. Sometimes they were carried to the churchyard by comrades of their corps—gaunt, weary, aching, grimy fellows with large hearts, who grimly professed to envy those—many there were by now—who had “every night in bed!”

On the evening of the 23rd there was some jubilation in Jammersberg camp. General Brabant heliographed from a place some fourteen miles distant, reporting an engagement with the enemy, and that they were retiring, though there was a strong force on his left flank. Heavy firing continued to be heard all day, most probably from the artillery of Generals Rundle and Chermside, who, at this time, were approaching Dewetsdorp from the south, or of Generals French and Pole-Carew, who were nearing that destination from the north. The plot was thickening. The sun was shining, the guns were going, and there was a chance the Boers might yet be hoist with their own petard, and in expectation thereof a veritable thrill passed through the camp.

Then the Boer fire began to slacken perceptibly, the barking of big guns mysteriously subsided. What was happening? Anxiety and suspense made the young faces—faces that had been young at the commencement of the war—still more drawn and haggard; it was felt that should the Boers capture the position they would give little quarter to the Colonial Division, and these had determined never to hoist the white flag. The fact was, the Boers were silently preparing to sneak away. They had heard of the converging of the British armies, they were in receipt of information regarding a grand scheme for mopping them up, and after taking a last sullen, despairing lunge they took themselves off.

On the morning of the 25th a serpentine cortège of waggons and carts and riders was seen winding its way in the direction of Ladybrand. Colonel Dalgety half suspected that Brabant’s force would presently appear and chase this retreating company, and got himself and some 300 of his men in readiness to assist in harassing those who so recently had harassed him. But Brabant’s force was apparently worn out, and was about some fourteen miles off when the retirement commenced, and though to his splendid exertions the retreat was due, it was evident that the enemy would manage to slide off without chastisement.

Wepener.

Thus ended the story of a grand achievement, an almost unique example in the way of defence of fortified positions, 1700 men having for seventeen days and nights in the trenches defended seven miles of entrenchment without giving up a single position! By the end there had been about 200 casualties, and only 1500 men were left to defend the tremendous length of entrenchments. One of the valiant defenders gave a graphic summary of the continuous fighting:—

“We lost between twenty and thirty killed and wounded the first day—not very many, considering what we had against us. At night the big guns ceased fire, and there was only a shot now and again during the night. On Tuesday morning at breakfast time the big guns started again; but there were only five guns that day, and we found out after the fight that we had knocked out three of the Boer guns on the previous day. The firing on the Tuesday was not so brisk, but at 8 P.M. the Boers attacked in force at the C.M.R. trenches, but our men were ready for them, and played one of the Boers’ own games with them. They saw them coming, and the Royal Scots lined up on one side and the C.M.R. on the other side of the spruit. Our men allowed them to get right in and then opened fire at fifty yards. Every man had his bayonet fixed and ready, and at the word they went for them. In less than an hour it was all over, and the Boers were beaten back, leaving 300 dead. It was pitiful to hear them crying. They have not the heart of a school-girl, and they cannot stand a beating. After the Tuesday night the enemy kept very quiet for a few days, only independent firing going on both with rifles and big guns. This went on for several days, at times a little brisk, and then the Boers seemed to get tired and tried to rush us again with 2000 men. This was on the fifteenth day at ten in the morning. By twelve o’clock we had them beaten, and the next day they left us and we came on up here.”

A great deal of the success of the resistance was due to the ingenuity of the entrenchments. The work had been carried out under the direction of Colonel Maxwell, R.E., and the splendid stand made by the besieged was made possible almost entirely by his genius. Captain Lukin was also a tower of strength, and but for his services with the guns the garrison would have suffered much more than it did. Captain Grant, C.M.R., too, was invaluable, working late and early, and carrying out with immense zeal the plans of the chief, while Colonel Grenfell was an untiring right-hand man to Colonel Dalgety.

Another of the heroes of the siege was Major Sprenger, of the C.M.R., who fell in his country’s service almost at the beginning of the siege. He was a born soldier, and a distinguished member of a distinguished corps. He won his commission by his smartness and soldierly qualities, having risen to the rank of sub-inspector in the old F.A.M.P. On the merging of that corps into the C.M.R., he continued as lieutenant, and was awarded the next step for gallantry in the field, he being the first to mount the scaling ladders in the storming of Moirosi’s Mountain.

General Brabant afterwards described the Cape Mounted Rifles as being the very finest corps in her Majesty’s service, and recommended them to the notice of Lord Roberts. As for the artillery under Captain Lukin, the General said he did not think there was a battery in her Majesty’s service that could excel it.

The casualties at Wepener from April 9th to 18th were:—

Killed:—Cape Mounted Rifles—Major Sprenger, Lieutenant E. A. Taplin. Brabant’s Horse—Lieutenant Tharston. Severely wounded:—Cape Mounted Rifles—Major J. C. Warring, Lieutenant J. Heilford, Lieutenant L. Martin, Lieutenant R. Ayre, Lieutenant W. H. Nixon, Lieutenant H. G. F. Campbell. Brabant’s Horse—Lieutenant W. J. Holford. Driscoll’s Scouts—Lieutenant W. Weiner. Kaffrarian Rifles—Lieutenant C. Lister. Slightly wounded:—Cape Mounted Rifles—Captain C. L. M. Goldsworthy. Brabant’s Horse—Surgeon-Captain L. C. Perkins (returned to duty), Lieutenant Turner Duncan, Lieutenant and Quartermaster P. Williams. 1st Royal Scots Mounted Infantry—Lieutenant C. G. Hill (1st Berks Regiment, attached).

The total losses were 33 killed and 132 wounded—a somewhat heavy bill for so small a force, when it is remembered that many of the wounded did not report their injuries but remained on duty during the siege.

In his diary the officer before quoted wrote: “We were relieved to-day at last, and march to-morrow. We have gone through an awful time, and some of the men look quite ghastly. They dragged their wasted forms from the trenches to-day at a crawl to the camp, which had been repitched. I had to give up the night before last, and after visiting my sentries, got back into the trenches in agony. At midnight I reached the hospital, where they injected morphine, and, after twenty-four hours lying on a stretcher, I am on my legs again.... Seventeen days and nights under fire, and the disgusting part of the whole is that it has been in vain. The Boers have slipped through our fingers after all.”

The relief of Wepener may be said to have taken place on the 25th. To discover how this was automatically accomplished, it is necessary to follow Lord Roberts’s strategic plan, and to return to the events of the 22nd of April.

SCOUT—6th DRAGOON GUARDS
(Carabineers)
Photo by Gregory & Co., London