WITH COLONEL MAHON’S FORCE
There were whispers in Bloemfontein, there were whispers in Kimberley, there were whispers in Natal. Secretly a scheme, originated by Sir Archibald Hunter (commanding Tenth Division), for the relief of Mafeking was being organised, and the action was to be started so that the movements of the flying column formed for the purpose should synchronise with Lord Roberts’s great advance on Pretoria. The Imperial Light Horse (Colonel Edwards) whose laurels had grown green in the harsh nursery of Ladysmith, were brought over from Natal; the Diamond Fields Horse, and the Kimberley Light Horse (Colonel King), who had developed into veterans to the tune of the Kamferdam big gun, were marked down for the dashing enterprise. Some picked men—twenty-five from each of the four battalions of Barton’s Fusilier Brigade, under Captain Carr (7th Royals)—were also included among the “braves” who were to form part of Mahon’s flying column, and M Battery R.H.A., under Major Jackson.
The object of the flying column was to fly, but at the same time it behoved the expedition to be discreet in its rush, for any advance that could not provide convoy, stores, and medical comfort for the relief would have ended in a showy demonstration which would have been more embarrassing to the besieged than satisfactory. It was necessary to go well laden, and thus keep together the body and soul of Mafeking, and the party of rescuers were immovable till General Hunter, slower and surer in his progress, should have advanced along the railway and repaired the line. It was also imperative to avoid, if possible, any collision with the enemy till Mafeking should be neared, and there was a chance of co-operation by Colonel Plumer’s and Colonel Baden-Powell’s men.
Map and Itinerary of Colonel Mahon’s Dash to Mafeking.
The organisation of the transport was therefore a very serious undertaking, one which engaged all the attention of Major Money, R.A., for over a week, and which involved indescribable labour. Major Money’s qualifications as an organiser have been described as second only to those of Colonel Ward, the “Universal Provider” of Ladysmith. Assisting also was Captain Cobbe (Bengal Lancers), who had been laboriously engaged in transport work both in Naauwpoort and Kimberley.
Efforts to maintain secrecy regarding the movement of the force were many, and all connected with the programme were vowed to silence regarding the objective of the march; yet, for all that, the Boers knew when it had started, indeed they declared that a week before the event, the Mafeking besiegers had heard of the project, and were firmly convinced of their ability to cut off the party at Roodoo’s Rand, or failing that, to smash it up at a point nearer its destination.
The Imperial Horse quietly encamped at Dronfield in order to excite as little suspicion as possible, then followed M Battery R.H.A., under Major Jackson, and two “pom-poms” under Captain Robinson. Meanwhile some of the Imperial Yeomanry and Kimberley Volunteers sprayed out over the region of Barkly West and Spitzkop, in order to clear the way for the advancing column. At Dronfield also the transport work was carried on, fifty-five waggons being loaded by Major Weil and Sir John Willoughby, both zealous officers, who were full of keenness in the undertaking; while the De Beers community, whose ardour in Imperial matters was proved, continued to throw themselves heart and soul into the great scheme. Twenty waggons contained stores; five, medical comforts; and the rest were loaded with the wherewithal to feed 1100 men and 1200 horses.
At Barkley West was Colonel Mahon, with Colonel Rhodes as intelligence officer. Major Baden-Powell, Scots Guards, the brother of the hero of Mafeking; Captain Bell-Smythe, the brigade major; Prince Alexander of Teck, Sir John Willoughby, Major Maurice Gifford—the one-armed soldier of Matabele fame—were also among the select number, whose good fortune it was to engage in the exciting enterprise.
The column slowly moved out on a nine miles’ march to Greefputs, which was, so to speak, the official starting-point—a grand force composed of some of the smartest men of the colony and in the pink of condition!
From the latter place to Spitzkop, a distance of nineteen miles, the column moved on the morning of the 5th of May. About mid-day the troops had intended to advance, but a rumour of Boers in the distance arrested their progress. On the east, ten miles off, could be heard the knocking of General Hunter’s guns and some Boerish retorts, and somewhere, in kopjes in the vicinity, were rebels or Dutchmen—at least so it was said, but after a brisk search the road was reported clear, and the march proceeded, through the blistering sunshine, over the scorching western plains to a place called Warwick’s Store, and from thence, after a halt for refreshment, on to Gunning Store, a total distance of thirty-five miles. As may be imagined the cool of the moon-blue night was refreshing to the toasted wanderers, and still more refreshing was the capture of two waggon-loads of rebels and their Mausers. Time was not wasted for much slumber or much breakfasting, and by 6 A.M. on the 6th the column was proceeding on its way towards Espach Drift on the left bank of the Harts River. The nine miles’ journey was accomplished by 9.30, where the column outspanned till 2.30. At that hour they started to complete their twenty miles in the sunshine, which landed them at Banks Drift—a deep drift where watering the horses was no easy matter. In this locality, called Greefdale Store, wood was scarce, but still the troops were within stone’s throw of food, and were able to supplement the scanty rations which had been cut down to the smallest possible figure. The daily allowance was not sumptuous. A great deal of valour and cheeriness had to be sustained on ½ lb. of meat, ¾ lb. of biscuit, 2 oz. of sugar, ⅓ oz. of coffee, and ⅙ oz. of tea. When fresh meat could be captured a change of diet was seized as a relief, and loot from rebels helped to fill the growing vacuum. In certain localities fowls and bread were purchasable. In others beer made a welcome variety to the daily quantum of grog—a tot of rum or lime juice—but really substantial meals were few and far between.
An unfortunate occurrence blighted the day’s proceedings. Major Baden-Powell, who, full of rejoicing, was going to the rescue of his brother, met with a nasty accident. His horse in crossing the deep sand of the veldt bungled, and the Major sustained injuries which made him unconscious for some hours. Happily he recovered with the elasticity of his race, and there was no fear that Colonel Baden-Powell’s hope, expressed in December,[5] would fail to be gratified.
From Greefdale, on the 7th, the column marched to Muchadin, moving on the right bank of Harts River. Nothing eventful occurred, and the rest of the twenty miles was traversed by 5 P.M. They were now some miles to west of Taungs. This region was found to be evacuated by the Dutchmen, though remains of their recent occupation were evident. The railway station was taken possession of by Major Mullins and a squadron of the Imperial Light Horse. Telegrams were found giving valuable insight into the Dutch moves, and showing that the Boers were lying in wait near Pudimoe, the place—encrusted with menacing rows of kopjes—that the column was about to approach on the morrow.
Next day the column was on the move earlier than usual. Before dawn all were astir, and the distance from Taungs to Pudimoe, twelve miles, was covered by 8.30 A.M. The Boers were invisible. They were ensconced somewhere, with intent to pounce, it was certain, but Colonel Mahon determined, if possible, to avoid imbroglio till the finish. At 10 the troops were moving on to a place called Dry Harts Siding, which was reached at noon. But there was little rest, for on this day twenty-eight miles were covered, ten miles being marched in the cool of the evening. At 9 P.M. under the blinking stars, they outspanned at a place called Brussels Farm, where food—hot food, ardently desired and eagerly stowed away—was plentiful.
LIEUT.-COLONEL BRYAN T. MAHON, D.S.O.
Commander of the Mafeking Relief Force
The next morning the force was on its way to Vryburg, doing eight miles before 9 A.M. They took up the thread of their travels at noon, marched another thirteen miles, and found themselves by tea-time at the desired and welcome haven of rest. The stores were at once invaded, and creature comforts were purchased at heavy rates. The British were received with some show of enthusiasm. In the little white town margined with aromatic, emerald-leafed pepper trees banners waved and Union Jacks fluttered, and passers-by came in for a handshake with men of their own kind, who invited them to “pot-luck.” Some of a commando that had been lurking in the vicinity of Pudimoe now trickled in and surrendered; other members of the Dutch conspiracy turned informer, while the loyal British subjects, who had declined to rebel to order of the Boers, poured out their experiences. One of them declared that during the Boer reign in the town British ladies who had remained there were not permitted to walk on the causeway, a regulation that in the Transvaal had previously been confined to Kaffirs! In other respects, beyond despoiling the police camp and the former Bechuanaland Residency, the Boers had done little harm.
A leaf from the diary of a member of the Scots Fusiliers describes this halt in a town which was somewhat Janus-faced in its loyalty:—
“9th May.—I awoke much refreshed by my good night’s rest. 5.30 A.M.—On the march. The ground being densely shrubby, many halts have to be made to allow the scouts to reconnoitre the front. 10 A.M.—Roodepoort. We are now nine miles from Vryburg. Water and rations are, as usual, scarce. 11 A.M.—‘Halloa! what the deuce is this?’ A gaily decorated carriage with three pretty maidens! ‘Well, I never! what can they want!’ Oh, thank you, as they gracefully throw us some loaves of lovely white bread, and with the most charming of smiles welcome us to Vryburg. ‘Bravo,’ my bonny lassies! had it not been for my uncouth apparel and bristly whiskers, ‘a kiss,’ I should have vaunted you. 12 noon.—So the Boers have fled from Vryburg! What an infernal pack of cowards, and no mistake! All the better for us; the less opposition the sooner at our journey’s end. 2 P.M.—We continue the march. 5 P.M.—Vryburg. An enthusiastic crowd of supposed loyalists greet our arrival with cheers. Somehow their welcome is not at all appreciated. Most of them are Dutch, and, considering the Boers have been amongst them until two days ago, we fail to see what loyalty they could have established for us in so short a time. 7 P.M.—On outpost; an exceedingly cold night.”
But whatever the sentiments of the people, there was decent food and a brief chance of comfortably partaking of it, and there was a sigh when the enjoyable time came to an end, and Vryburg, with its apology for civilisation, its costly meals and inferior cigars, so highly appreciated in those days of sparse comfort, had to be left behind. Farewell drinks—beer, gin and lime-juice, green chartreuse, tea—were disposed of, and then from five till midnight the steady march onwards was pursued. The conditions of the march, if nothing worse, were uncomfortable. No man dared betray his presence with the whiff of a cigar; and after the sun-scorchings of the baking African day, the searching, chill air of the moonlit veldt nipped the bones and filled the frame with aguish apprehensions. So cold were the nights that some declared they had to sleep walking up and down to save themselves from being frozen. Still, through it all, every member of the gallant band remembered the glorious object of his mission, and, when inclined to growl, packed away personal irritations and meditated on the number of hours which would elapse before London would be ringing with the news of the great relief. Every soul of this goodly company was swelling with pride and satisfaction at having the good luck to be among those chosen for the spirited exploit, and it was this pride, this almost heroic afflatus, which served to cast into insignificance the thousand and one inconveniences, trying to constitution and to temper, which were involved in this momentous if fatiguing march. It is true, bullet and shell were as yet only in the near future, but the aggravations of these, as all men agreed, were not to be compared with the sustained fret of marching under unrelenting sunshine, sleeping in violent chills, eating irresponsive biscuit, tackling “bully” without the assistance of a hatchet as a mincer; and enduring through all a parching thirst, a perpetual craving for water, which, when found, bred a loathly suspicion of the imps of enteric and dysentery that might lurk therein. As Mr. Stuart of the Morning Post declared: “To go through ten or a dozen of our days uncomplainingly was a higher test of manhood than to fight, howsoever gallantly. To stand to arms an hour before sunrise, possibly to march for hours without a cup of coffee in the empty stomach, possibly to do patrol or picket as soon as the outspan place was selected, to return barely in time for a wad of stringy beef and some chunks of biscuit, to march again across the sand or over lumpy grass, so tired that at every halt they lay at their horses’ feet dozing till the unwelcome ‘Stand to your horses’ was called, to go to bed without fire, without the last sleepy pipe: that was often what Mahon’s men called a day.”
It is well to emphasise what may be called the greys and drabs and neutral tints that go to the making up of a complete picture of heroism; it is imperative to appreciate the superb nuances which in their very retirement and unostentatious inconspicuousness made the background to now immemorial scenes in our nation’s history. There are so many who have contributed their tiny inch of fine neutral tint, their little all of patience and self-abnegation to make up this background—infinitesimal atoms in the great machinery, whose names and histories are enveloped in the vast dust bosom of the veldt, yet who, unknown and unsung, have contributed the “mickle” which has made the “muckle” belonging to the Empire. The ruminations of a soldier, who, rolled up in his overcoat, was struggling to sleep, shows the pathetic side of the brilliant undertaking: “Horses and mules are dropping down from sheer exhaustion, unfit for further service. They are left on the veldt a prey to the hungry vultures.... I shudder as I inwardly apply the case to myself, how perhaps in years to come, when of no more use to my country, I am left, like those poor creatures, to the mercy of an ungrateful world, or, worse still, thrown as a pauper into some home of destitution.”
On the 11th they were early astir in the dewy air of the morning, moving across open country to Majana Mabili, which was reached at 7.30 A.M., and on from this place after tea, on and on for eleven miles, till the stars began to shimmer, and moon to light the open veldt. The night was spent at a spot known as the “Hill without Water,” a name sufficiently inhospitable and repellent.
Nearly the whole of the 12th was spent in marching, with short periods for rest, from Jacobspan to Setlagoli, the latter part of the way over infamous roads, drifts, and stretches of sand, ledged with limestone and other impediments disastrous to cattle and to the tempers of their owners. However, the reception in Setlagoli compensated for many discomforts, for at the hotel, the proprietor of which was a Scotsman, there was fat fare and “a true Scots welcome,” which in other words means that the company regaled themselves at the expense of mine host, who refused to accept any equivalent for his hospitality! During the day some sad scenes had occurred, scenes so pathetic that they touched the hearts of the rank and file in the pursuance of their duty. One of them said, “Some Dutch farmers who had been brought in by our scouts as suspects, were followed by their wives and children. Undoubtedly the poor women thought that after examination by the chief officer they would be allowed to return with them. As it was, however, we had some very clever detectives with us, who unfortunately caused them to be handed over to the guard as prisoners. The women in their extreme anguish at seeing their husbands about to be separated from them, rushed in amongst us, flung their arms around their necks, and refused to leave them. The scene that followed was a pitiful one, and not until the convoy had gone some distance on its way did their heart-rending cries cease to be heard.”
On Sunday the 13th of May the plot began to thicken. Colonel Mahon, as we are aware, had been reserving himself, knowing that the nearer he came to his destination, the more certain was he of repeated tussles with the enemy. Native scouts now informed him the Dutchmen were assembling at Maribogo, hanging round Kraaipan Siding, and lurking in their hundreds in the frowning kopjes that fringed the nek near Koodoo’s Rand. Precautions were taken, and all remembered the Mafeking besiegers had bragged of their intention to cut off the party at Koodoo’s Rand. The Light Horse, in very extended columns of squadrons, provided the advance and the scouts, and the transport moved in five parallel columns. Nothing as yet was seen of the Boers, and the troops reached a point nine miles off, called Brodie’s Farm, in safety. Here they watered their horses, and rested till the early afternoon. Here they were joined by an officer who had ridden from Colonel Plumer’s force, which, acting on information received, had by then reached Canea. Three questions were forwarded from Colonel Plumer. First, he wished to know the number of Colonel Mahon’s men; second, his guns; third, the amount of his supplies. It became necessary to concoct a reply which should defeat the curiosity of the Boers, and to that end Colonel Mahon and Colonel Rhodes put their astute heads together, with the result that for the number of men they answered, The Naval and Military Club multiplied by ten (94 Piccadilly). The number of guns was described as The number of brothers in the Ward family (six); and the amount of supplies was represented by The C.O., 9th Lancers (Small, Little). It was now decided that both Colonels—the relieving officers—should join hands at Jan Massibi’s, Colonel Mahon’s plan being to make a detour to the north-west of his route and thus surprise the enemy, who imagined he would come straight by way of Wright’s Farm.
Now came a critical moment. The column moved out from Brodie’s Farm in the afternoon, and had scarcely started before they became aware that Boers were slinking everywhere, behind trees, in the scrub, in the dried grass of the veldt. They had been so admirably concealed that the Imperial Light Horse scouts had ridden beyond them. Now, however, when they began to blaze away with rifles from the scrub, the scouts turned upon them, caught them in the rear, while in front they were greeted with such warm volleys that they made for their horses, which had been deftly hidden in the bush. Others of their number strove to get a chance of enfilading the convoy, which was promptly diverted from its course to the left, while the guns galloped to the rescue, and took up a position that commanded the open ground to the right, and here blazed away, pouring cascades of shrapnel whenever the smoke from the Dutchmen’s Mausers gave them a clue to the whereabouts of the hostile weapons, and a chance to put in some execution. Meanwhile, the Boers were firing fast and furious at the gunners, and awaiting reinforcements which were spurring across the far distance. The Imperial Light Horse, dashing as ever, were pouring volleys into the enemy, and sweeping them towards the British 12-pounders, and there was a good half-hour’s brisk interchange of aggressions, much of the fighting being done on foot and at fairly close quarters. The pom-poms also rapped out a warning tune, and the smart Light Horse, now riding, now dismounted, hunted the foe across the ochreous grass of the veldt, keeping him perpetually on the run, or “winging” him so that he could run no more. Meanwhile Colonel King, on the right rear with his Kimberley men, assisted in the fight, and finally after much volleying and sniping the Dutchmen took themselves off. But the brilliant skirmish was not without its penalties, for twenty-one men were wounded, while six—including a native driver who had been knocked from his waggon in the course of the fray—were killed. Major Mullins of the Light Horse was seriously injured in the spine, an unlucky incident, following, as it did, on the loss to the gallant regiment of Major Wools Sampson and Major Doveton. Corporal Davis of A Squadron was hit, but managed even afterwards to do considerable damage among the Boers. Mr. Hands, the correspondent of the Daily Mail, sustained a compound fracture of the thigh, and Major Baden-Powell narrowly escaped, so narrowly, indeed, that his watch was stopped and a whistle twisted in his pocket by the force of the bullet. Captain Mullins, Kimberley Mounted Corps, was also injured.
After their exhilarating and successful conflict it was decided that the force should bivouac where they were, the country to the north having been scouted and reported free of the enemy. It was said also to be devoid of water. No water could be found, and food was scanty, but the troops after their satisfactory rout of the Boers went to sleep in the moonlight full, if of nothing else, of contentment!
With the passage of every hour precautions became more necessary, for the Boers might now be expected to crop up from any quarter. At 6 A.M. the troops started, the men riding six yards apart from each other, for Buck Reef Farm, a distance of five miles. A drift had to be negotiated, and water from the bed of the River Maretsani was dug up, and, richly yellow though it was, enjoyed. It was necessary to make the most of this refreshing if suspicious draught, for now the march onwards promised to be almost entirely waterless, with the enemy possibly mounting guard over any pools which might present themselves.
Through the long dull afternoon they trailed upwards over a hill for eight long miles, and then on, for another eight, ploughing the sand and wearily craving for water. Man and beast were united in the common want, the absorbing yearning. Day passed into twilight and dusk broke into moonbeams; then, jaded and travel-sore, they outspanned for a brief rest.
At 1 A.M. on the 15th they were again on the move, and by 3 A.M. were making their way over the plains of sand and tussocky grass towards the one haven of their desire, Jan Massibi’s—every nerve and muscle strained to meet Colonel Plumer and his small force to time, to get to the trysting-place with celerity and secrecy which should outwit the Boers, and prevent them driving a wedge between the two relief columns that had endured so much to arrive at a now almost achieved end! So, on and on, half asleep, half awake, famished, dry, aching, dull but not desponding, they went, halting often, napping sometimes, mounting again and pursuing their way towards that ever-to-be-desired point in the west where Plumer was thought to be. And sure enough there they found him! The day dawned, the morning brightened, and in the distance, light—a glow of fires—was seen. Between the relievers and the glare was a native stadt, and nearer still a river. Here the scouts in advance came on other scouts, eyed them suspiciously, eagerly, delightedly. They were Plumer’s scouts, and the joy of the encounter amply compensated for the pains of all who had covered during the past two days twenty-eight miserable miles in miserable condition. All the weariness of the night was forgotten, all the discomforts set aside. The horses galloped to the Molopo brink like wild creatures, drinking furiously; and the men, too, milder in their transport, greeted the streak of glittering stream with unfeigned rejoicing.
It must here be noted that while the column was moving from Buck Reef Farm to Jan Massibi’s, Colonel Plumer’s force was approaching the same point from the north, and beautifully, like the grooves of a Chinese puzzle, the two relief parties met together about 5 A.M. Colonel Plumer was accompanied by his regiment of Rhodesians, some 350 of them, who for five months, under exceptional difficulties of climate and conditions, had been untiring in their efforts to hold back the enemy in their attempt to invade Rhodesia via Tuli, and in their determination to retain the Bulawayo Railway for over 200 miles south of the Rhodesian border in British hands. This diminutive force, though it had achieved so much, had been powerless for want of guns to achieve still more. Colonel Plumer, in addition to Colonel Spreckley and others who had been fighting with him, was accompanied now, by a battery of Canadian Artillery, under Major Hudon (an officer whose delicate French accent gave a refining touch to the British tongue), and some 200 Queenslanders. How Colonel Plumer came into possession of the valuable addition to his troops must be described. It may be remembered that a force called the Rhodesian Field Force, numbering some 5000 men and 7000 horses, under the command of Lieutenant-General Sir Frederick Carrington, was originated to provide against the contingency of an attack on Rhodesia from the south, and to avert any plan on the part of the Boers to migrate or escape to the north. It was composed mainly of Colonial troops, and placed in charge of a general whose unequalled experience of the country through which he was travelling and fighting made him unusually valuable. Besides Colonials were some 1100 Yeomanry, a company of the Lancashire, Belfast and Dublin’s, and Lord Dunraven’s Sharpshooters.
Map Showing the Route for the Relief of Mafeking from the North.
While Sir Frederick Carrington was at Capetown he, knowing that Colonel Plumer’s force was weak in artillery, devised a scheme for helping him. He made an arrangement with Mr. Zeederberg—the well-known Rhodesian coach-owner and a first-rate type of the Colonial Dutchman—by which the guns before named and escort were to be conveyed by mail coaches to the Rhodesian column. Mr. Zeederberg accompanied the General to Beira, and there telegraphed to Rhodesia suspending the ordinary mail service (conveying passengers and mails from Salisbury and Bulawayo), and diverting the mules to the Marandellas-Bulawayo Road. That done, no sooner had the troops steamed from Beira to Marandellas than the men were transferred to the stage-coaches and the mules were hitched to the guns, and thus the force was got to Bulawayo twenty days earlier than they would have done if moved in the ordinary manner.
The active way in which the Colonials threw themselves into the movement deserves consideration. On the 13th of April C Battery of the Royal Canadian Artillery, under Major Hudon, were ordered to proceed via the Cape to Beira, there to join General Sir Frederick Carrington’s force. They reached their destination on the 22nd, and entrained for Marandellas, where the General had established his base camp. After a long and trying journey in open trucks, scorched by sun, burnt by sparks from the engine, agued by night chills, and jolted on one of what is called the worst railways in the world, they reached their destination on the 26th. Colonel Plumer was known to be helpless without artillery, and therefore no time was to be lost, as every haste was necessary to equip that officer for the approaching operations.
Accordingly the “Salisbury to Bulawayo” resources were utilised as has been described, and two guns left Marandellas on the 30th of April, followed on May the 1st and 2nd by others, which were carried a distance of over 300 miles to Bulawayo by the 6th. From Bulawayo they were forwarded to Ootsi, where the rail was found to be destroyed, and consequently the remaining sixty miles to Safeteli were accomplished by a forced march. Colonel Plumer was joined by the Colonials on the 14th, and at once proceeded to meet Colonel Mahon at Jan Massibi’s. A more ingenious synchronal achievement can scarcely be imagined.
LIEUT.-COLONEL PLUMER
Photo by Bassano, London
The meeting of Colonel Mahon and Colonel Plumer was most cordial, and many old chums and acquaintances forgathered and cheerily exchanged reminiscences over their morning coffee. Here, in this remote corner of South Africa, near the brown thatched cottages of Jan Massibi’s staadt, was gathered around in the sunlight a stalwart company of picked men whose equal could scarcely be discovered in any part of the world. Men of breeding and distinction; men in the prime of life, brawny and tough and smart; men intellectual, courageous to daredevilry, and withal full of resource. Here, on the Kimberley side, were warriors old and tried—Colonel King, who had been General Hunter’s aide-de-camp in Ladysmith; Colonel Peakman, the hero of many Kimberley fights; Major Karri Davies and dashing Colonel Edwards; popular Colonel Rhodes the pioneer; and the ever-jovial Dr. Davies of the Light Horse. There were Prince Alexander of Teck, a youthful veteran by now; Major the Hon. Maurice Gifford, a soldier to the finger-nails; Captain Bell-Smythe, the energetic brigade-major; and many more, all chivalrous and hardy men of mark.
On the Rhodesian side were other grand specimens of British manhood. There was first the colonel—bronzed, dark-eyed, meditative—a man who without display had skirmished his way along the border-side from Tuli downwards, keeping the Boers in eternal suspense and so perpetually employed that they were unable to gain breathing time to concentrate their energies on Mafeking. Next came Colonel White, one of the bulwarks of Rhodesia; an adventurous spirit of the first order, an unerring shot, and, like most of his comrades, a chip of the old British block that furnished the material of the Light Brigade. There were Colonel Spreckley, a seasoned and notable fighter, alas! engaging in almost his last exploit, and Colonel Bodle of the British South Africa Police, a tower of strength, with vast experience of the western frontier of the Transvaal, and the necessary “slimness”—cultivated in a practical school—without which the handling of live eels like the Boers was impossible. There were Major Bird, another gallant and indefatigable officer; Lieutenant Harland, bright, blue-eyed, and buoyant, a typical British soldier; and Lieutenant Smitheman, valiant as Mettus Curtius and acute as a weazel—the first officer who had been successful in worming himself into Mafeking and out again!
Colonel Mahon’s force had been travelling at the rate of twenty-two miles a day over sandy tracks and waterless deserts, and skirmishing by the way. They were, by now, very sun-baked and weary, but jovial beyond measure. In the evening camp-fires were lighted and goodly fare roasted, the flesh of captured oxen coming in handy to appease the appetite of the voracious travellers. It was a grand night of rest and plenty and cheeriness at the thought of work accomplished, and of plans which promised to end in triumph over the enemy. A spirit of camaraderie prevailed. All alike were tingling with the glow of ambition which hatches heroes. It was an unique company—an inter-British-national throng, and vastly interesting in its heterogeneous characteristics. The Bushmen were perhaps the most curious and refreshing type of the Imperial Brotherhood. Every one with an appreciation for the genuine was swift to pronounce them delightful fellows, sound in wind and limb, full of go, spirited and keen for work of any kind that came to hand. In addition to this they were friendly and hospitable, would share their last chunk of “bully” with any one who was suffering from a vacuum, and had the “nous” to forage for themselves and find their way about in the veldt in a manner that excited as much admiration as surprise. They could ride too. They sat a buckjumper as a child sits a swing, and seemed to be horsemasters as it were by instinct. Full to overflowing with loyalty, they talked of home and Queen as though they had been born on the steps of Buckingham Palace. They were democratic withal. Their loyalty was to the superb, the estimable, and the Queen to them was the sample of the ideal womanhood, holding them enslaved by the power that is the firmest of all powers—the hair-line of respect.
To return to our “moutons” and to the sheep-pen in the heart of the veldt. At last dawned the memorable 16th—the ever-to-be-remembered morning when Mafeking, like a little white clothes-drying yard, came to be seen in the distance. All along the north bank of the Molopo for nine miles had marched the two columns, Colonel Plumer’s Brigade leading, followed by Colonel Edwards and the Second Brigade, till at last, in the far grey plain, the little hamlet that had been the subject of so much persecution and so much British anxiety, came in sight.
Then all were prepared for the worst or for the best. They lunched frugally, cooled themselves with draughts from the clear river, and then ... then the enemy made his last, his expiring effort. He began to blaze with his rifles on the extreme left, and continued so to blaze till volley followed volley. Off went the Light Horse buoyant and brisk towards the north, followed by Colonel King and his redoubtable “Kimburlians,” who started to frustrate any attempt at a rear attack. But this attempt not being made he joined forces with the Light Horse, with whom were M Battery and the pom-poms.
Meanwhile the Boers in front began to ply their guns “for all they were worth,” shifting their pieces so as to enfilade the right of the British, thinking on that flank to make a more favourable impression. But on both fronts some Dutchmen were collected, and those on the left were engaged by the Light Horse and a section of M Battery, while on the right Colonel Plumer’s Maxim-Nordenfeldt with the Battery of the Canadians did excellent execution. Two squadrons of Rhodesians advanced from the south across the river, to watch Boer reinforcements which hovered in the distance.
The Boers now made an effort to attack the convoy, which had been diverted to the left; but here the Dutchmen had the astute Colonel Peakman to deal with. This officer promptly set his guns to work, and pounded them with such precision and warmth that they were glad enough to fall back on their main body. Then the Canadians assailed them, and later Captain Montmorency with his Maxim-Nordenfeldt silenced the big Boer gun. So effective was the action of the artillery that about 3 P.M. the Boers were beginning to show signs of removal. Meanwhile the Light Horse and the Kimberley troops were pushing boldly on, and by four o’clock the besiegers were on the run, their scurrying silhouettes dotting for a moment or two the skyline and then vanishing into space!
On the right fighting still lingered on, the enemy trying hard to hold their ground, the Canadians trying equally hard to dislodge them from a position before Mafeking known as the White House. There was some tough work here, and presently M Battery from 3600 yards north of the house came to the assistance of the Canadians. Finally the Fusiliers and the Queenslanders with fixed bayonets, and a rush and roar, assailed the enemy’s last position, and the door to Mafeking was opened! Off scrambled the remnant of the Boer hordes, leaving behind them ammunition and many other things grateful to the hearts of the conquerors.
For the first time the enemy found themselves outmatched in the way of guns as in the way of wits. Gloating, they had been circling round Mafeking, waiting with confidence for an exhausted force. They found instead a force that had marched warily, and reserved itself, and came with full rush upon them; a force that had been concentrating its energies to give them as much fighting as they cared for. The whole route was now purged of Boers, and when at dusk the column outspanned it was but for a brief hour or two. Without warning, Colonel Mahon inspanned again, determining to take advantage of the moonlight and the clear road; in a very short time he was wending his way towards the great destination. At four o’clock on the morning of the 17th his mission was accomplished!
The losses were many, for the fighting, during the short time it lasted, was fierce and sustained; and the Boer force numbered some 2000, while the British columns amounted to about 1500. There were over sixty killed and wounded:—
Lieutenant Edwin Harland, Hampshire Regiment—commanding C Squadron Rhodesian Regiment, was killed. The following were wounded: 2nd Royal West Surrey Regiment—Major W. D. Bird, severe. British South Africa Police—Lieutenant Richard Sherman Godley, slight. Rhodesian Regiment—Lieutenant John Alexander Forbes, slight. Royal Horse Artillery—Lieutenant N. M. Gray, severe. Kimberley Mounted Corps—Captain C. P. Fisher, slight. Imperial Light Horse—Lieutenant Hew Campbell Ross, slight.
Gallant young Harland was generally regretted. He had taken the place of Captain Maclaren when that officer was wounded in the attempt to rescue Mafeking on the 31st, and had displayed such first-rate talents, both as soldier and scout, that he had earned for himself the title of “Baden-Powell the Second.”
The following table describes the forces engaged in the Relief:—
Mafeking.—Protectorate Regiment (800), Cape Mounted Police, British South Africa Company’s Mounted Police, Bechuanaland Rifles—1500 men. Colonel Plumer’s Force.—Rhodesia Regiment, Southern Rhodesia Volunteers, Bechuanaland Border Police, A Detachment of Canadian Artillery. Colonel Mahon’s Flying Column.—100 men from Barton’s Frontier Brigade, 200 Queenslanders (Bushmen). Kimberley Mounted Corps.—Diamond Fields Horse, Kimberley Light Horse, Cape Police, Imperial Light Horse, Diamond Fields Artillery, M Battery Royal Horse Artillery—1200 men.
ON THE WESTERN FRONTIER—THE INVASION OF THE TRANSVAAL VIA CHRISTIANA.
At the same time, on the Western Frontier, affairs were progressing in accord with Lord Roberts’s strategical programme. Sir Charles Warren had arrived to take up his new post as military governor of Griqualand West, and General Hunter was engaged in a species of overture to cover the advance of the Flying Column which had started on the 5th. Without opposition he effected the passage of the Vaal River at Windsorton. There was great satisfaction to feel that British shells were at last exploding in Transvaal territory, and that the voice of the new gun, “Bobs,” was spreading devastation far and wide. Three Boer laagers were dispersed, and on the 4th of May the new weapon caused considerable commotion within the Republican border. Ambulances were seen performing their melancholy duty for some time after the morning shelling had ceased. On the 5th Barton’s Brigade encountered 2000 and more of the enemy some two miles north of Rooidam. The Dutchmen held a hilly and jungly position extending over four miles, but from their beloved kopjes they were routed time after time, and with considerable loss, by the magnificent dash of the troops, who carried one ridge after another with splendid energy and daring. The Yeomanry under Colonel Meyrick especially distinguished themselves, their courage and coolness under fire being remarkable. They not only engaged the enemy at very close quarters, but chased them for miles. General Hunter, having settled the Dutchmen, after a contest of some eight hours’ duration, joined hands with the British force under General Paget at Warrenton.
Fourteen Streams was now occupied without opposition, the enemy having found the attentions of the artillery in the direction of the left bank of the Vaal far too pressing for his liking. At sight of the approach of the 6th and half the 5th Brigades of infantry the Boers scampered, leaving behind them in the trenches saddles, ammunition, and wardrobes. A British camp was formed at Fourteen Streams—C Company of the Munster Fusiliers, under Lieutenant Caning, having been the first to cross the river during the night. These were followed at dawn by the rest of the troops. The river was low, and the Engineers set to work to construct a pontoon bridge for heavy traffic, and to mend the old railway bridge and make it fit for immediate use.
The following casualties took place during the advance: Captain Lovett, 1st Royal Welsh Fusiliers, died from wounds, and Captain MacMahon, 2nd Royal Fusiliers, was wounded.
The ten days’ march to Vryburg, which was reached on the 24th of May, was comparatively uneventful, but the Yeomanry did excellent work, as the following report of a Glasgow yeoman serves to show:—“We were most of the time on half-rations, and every morning were up before 2 A.M.... The first day we left the camp at Warrenton we crossed the Vaal River, where the railway bridge was blown up. They have now got a temporary one made, which they completed two days after we left.... On the other side we joined the Union Brigade; Colonel Hart (Barton), I think, is commander of it. We had two batteries of artillery with us, and some other brigade joined us next day, and we were supposed to be about 12,000 strong under General Sir A. Hunter. They do not tell you whether you are going to fight or on a day’s march, the regulars say; but we all expected one the day after we left, as we were advised to make any personal arrangements we had to make. Next day we moved off about 6.30. Nineteenth and 20th Companies were the scouts, and 17th and 18th the support. It is rather exciting the first day you are out scouting, with ninety cartridges in your bandolier and ten in your magazine, expecting to come in contact with the Boers every minute. Some of their patrols were seen two days before we left. On Wednesday morning we came in sight of Christiana, which we took in great style. We galloped half round it at half a mile distance in extended order, the Major and Captain C—— galloping up to houses, putting the butts of their rifles through the windows, and looking to see if the houses were occupied. There were very few people there; 2000 Boers had left the day before. However, we came across two or three, who were disarmed, and all the arms that were got in the town were broken up. We commandeered a lot of cattle, sheep, and horses, left a company of infantry in charge of the town, left again that night, and did about other six miles’ march towards Toungs. We saw about a hundred Boers two days later, but they did not let us get near them. We are the only cavalry attached to the column, so that we have to do all the scouting, front and rear guards. It is quite a sight to see a column on the march. First scouts are out in front advancing in line, about a hundred yards apart, then the supports, next a skirmishing line of infantry, then two or three companies of them. After this long lines of transports, the artillery, droves of cattle and sheep, then more infantry, and behind the rearguard. I have only washed once since I left Warrenton, now twelve days ago, and then I had no soap, and had to dry my face with my handkerchief. We had to leave all our stuff behind us so as to march as light as possible. These last two days we have been getting bread, as they have now got the railway put right up this length. We were only getting two hard biscuits per day, coffee in the morning and tea at night, pretty often without any sugar, and sometimes we couldn’t manage to get sticks to make a fire. The beer is 4s. per bottle. The Boers have commandeered everything nearly, and the folks here were glad to see us. The enemy cleared out of here fourteen days ago.”
Space does not admit of a detailed account of this excellent movement, which was originated in support of the Mafeking Relief Column, and had for a double object the protection of Mahon’s force and the invasion of the Transvaal from the west.
To appreciate the turn of wheel within wheel of Lord Roberts’s strategic machinery it is necessary to give a glance at the map of the Transvaal. It will then be seen that synchronously with the occupation of Christiana by General Sir Archibald Hunter on the 16th and the Relief of Mafeking by Colonels Mahon and Plumer, we find Lord Methuen moving towards Hoopstad, Lord Roberts holding Kroonstad, General Ian Hamilton pushing up towards Lindley and Heilbron, and farther east Generals Clery and Dundonald advancing towards Ingogo and Laing’s Nek respectively!