Commandant Truter, who was in command of the rear-guard, had left a Krupp and an ammunition waggon behind. I was not at all pleased about this, but, as we had not a single round of Krupp ammunition left, the gun would only have hampered us.
That evening we reached the Orange River, at a point some three miles to the north of Odendaalsstroom, but, alas! what a sight met our eyes! The river was quite impassable owing to the floods, and, in addition, the ford was held by English troops stationed on the south bank.
Our position was beginning to be critical, for there was an English garrison at Aliwal North, so that I could not cross the Orange River by the bridge there. It was also highly probable that the Caledon would be in flood, and I knew that General Charles Knox had left a division of his troops at Smithfield—they would be sure to be holding the bridge over the Caledon at Commissiedrift. Moreover, Jammerbergsdrift, near Wepener, was doubtless well guarded, so that there, too, I would have no chance of crossing the river. There was still Basutoland, but we did not wish to cross its borders—we were on good terms with the Basutos and we could not afford to make enemies of them. Surely we had enough enemies already!
To make the best of a bad job I sent Commandant Kritzinger[76] and Captain Scheepers, with their three hundred men, to march in the direction of Rouxville with orders that as soon as the Orange River became fordable, they were to cross it into Cape Colony without delay. I entertained no doubt that they would succeed.
Everything is as it must be, and unless one is a sluggard—who brings trouble upon himself by doing nothing to avoid it—one has no reason to complain.
Such were my thoughts as I contemplated our situation.
The Orange River was in flood—the Government and I, therefore, could not possibly remain where we were for long. The English were so fond of us that they would be sure to be paying us a visit! No, to wait there until the river was fordable was not to be thought of.
The reader will now perceive how it was that my projected inroad into Cape Colony did not become a fact. My dear old friend, General Charles Knox, was against it, and he had the best of the argument, for the river was unfordable. What then was I to do? Retreat I could not, for the Caledon also was now full. Again, as I have already explained, it would not do for me to take refuge in Basutoland. But even that would be better than to attempt to hold out where I was—in a narrow belt of country between two rivers in flood—against the overpowering force which was at General Knox's disposal, and which in ten or twelve days would increase tenfold, by reinforcements from all parts of the country.
I knew that the Orange and the Caledon Rivers sometimes remained unfordable for weeks together. How could I then escape?—Oh, the English had caught me at last! They hemmed me in on every side; I could not get away from them. In fact they had "cornered" me, to use one of their own favourite expressions. That they also thought so appears from what I read afterwards in the South African News, where I saw that Lord Kitchener had given orders to General Charles Knox "not to take any prisoners there!" For the truth of this I cannot positively vouch; but it was a very suspicious circumstance that Mr. Cartwright, the editor of the newspaper to which I have referred, was afterwards thrown into prison for having published this very anecdote about Lord Kitchener.
Our prospects were then by no means bright; I knew very well that those trusty counsellors of the English—the National Scouts—would have advised their masters to seize the bridges and thus make escape impossible for Steyn and De Wet.