In connection with what I had done in the case of Uwini, I was rather struck by reading to–day, anent the siege of Delhi, the following remark by John Nicholson to an officer who had said to him, “It is hard, sir, when one has fagged horses and men to death, to be told that one has exceeded orders.” “If you served under me,” were Nicholson’s words, “that would be impossible; my instructions are, always to do everything that can be done.”
Gwelo is on a bare, open flat, with a sea–like horizon of veldt. Half a dozen small houses dotted about at two hundred yards apart. A crowded collection of corrugated iron rooms within a rampart of logs and earth forms the fort—kept very clean and neat, which is a change from Buluwayo. But, otherwise, there is not much to commend Gwelo to the artist, traveller, or temperance man.
Major Thorold in command has done wonders in bringing order into the place, and his officers (local forces) ably support him, and—have a very well–done mess.
But the command of Gwelo is no sinecure. There are “lawyers” in the camp. The following are among their ebullitions:—Copy of cablegram to Secretary of State, which would have gone, but that the would–be sender was fourpence short of the £24 required for its transmission. “Man named Thorold questioned my sobriety this morning, and called doctor to decide. Doctor drunk himself, could not decide. I said, willing to put in resignation, as a man is not a machine.... Who is this Thorold?”
Another man telegraphed to headquarters, to ask “When will Gwelo force be disbanded? Without competent officers it is only a farce. Have applied to be discharged; application simply ignored!”
The General had telegraphed to me to await him here, as he would shortly be en route for Salisbury, calling at Gwelo on the way.
All war is now over in Matabeleland—and Wedza’s may be said to have been the final blow. Plumer’s corps near the Matopos, and Robertson’s Cape Boys have been disbanded, and the 7th Hussars are ordered into rainy–season quarters at Buluwayo.
But in Mashonaland the rebels still hold out, and now and then a wire arrives to tell of further fights.
And one I heard of on arriving here was of saddest interest about Major Evans of Alderson’s Mounted Infantry, who came out from England with me. I knew him well on board, and two days before we sailed he had married.... In his first action he fell, shot through the heart.
Of the officers of this Mounted Infantry who came out with me, several others have been hit in action, viz. Captain Sir Horace MacMahon, Lieutenants French and Eustace.