I shouted to my command: "Charge."
I exerted all my powers of persuasion to arrest the flight of my burghers; even bringing the sjambok into the argument.
Two hundred and fifty were all that I could bring back to the fight, whilst, as I have said, the Commandants had a hundred with them when they charged; the rest, regardless of my attempts to stop them, fled.
I was also without my staff, some of whom had remained under the fire of the enemy awaiting my orders as to what was to be done with my little waggon. Others, amongst whom was my son Kootie, who was then acting as my secretary, had followed me, but had got lost in the confusion of the moment.
This confusion arose from the fact that the burghers imagined that they had got through at the first attempt, but had found themselves again fired at from the front. Meanwhile, I hurried to and fro, encouraging the burghers in their attempts to break through. When thus engaged I came across two of my staff, Albertus Theunissen and Burt Nissey. To them I gave the order: "Get the waggon through at all costs." I also found my son, Isaac, and kept him with me. The English now were firing not only from in front but also on our right, and there was nothing for it but to clear a road for ourselves, and this we eventually succeeded in doing, and in about forty minutes had at last broken through.
The enemy had dug trenches, thirty to forty paces from each other, which served as schanzes. In each of these trenches were placed ten to thirty men. They had also a Maxim-Nordenfeldt, which, at first, kept up a hot fire; but soon was silenced as the gunners were shot down. The rest of the troops retired with the gun, but had to leave the caisson behind them. It was evident to me from the way in which they fired that the English were retreating, and so I dispatched two men to tell the burghers, who had gone back, to come on; but this they did not do, thinking perhaps that they could discover a safer route on the following evening. This was short-sighted policy on their part, for the circle within which they were caught was daily becoming narrower, and it was plain that on the third day the enemy would be so close that all hope of escape would be gone.
The two burghers did not return, and we went on without them, taking with us our wounded—twelve in number. Two of these, whose injuries were serious, had been placed by some of my staff on my waggon; one was Van der Merwe, a member of President Steyn's bodyguard; the other was a boy of thirteen years old, named Olivier.
We hurried on, and came, shortly after sundown, to the farm called "Bavaria," on the Bothasberg. There Van der Merwe died.
The boy had already been relieved from his sufferings. Thus, once again, the soil drank the blood of a child.
Eleven of my men were left dead on the battlefield. We had to leave them there, for to recover their bodies might have meant the sacrifice of more lives.