At Cape Town Lord Roberts had a great reception, of which I got some good photos. When I could get away from the ship I went up the town and wired to my brother in Kimberley, to tell him that I was going home, but after doing so I thought I might as well inquire whether, by any chance, he was down in Cape Town, so I went to his club, and was much surprised to find he was in the town; so I left a note to arrange to meet him next day.
The next day was Sunday, and Sister and I went to service in the cathedral (which Lord Roberts attended with his staff), and then my brother met us, and took us up to an excellent lunch at Mount Nelson Hotel.
After lunch Sister —— went off to see some friends at Wynberg, and my brother and I went to see various friends in the suburbs, and finished up with supper with the S.'s at their lovely Kenilworth home. It was nice meeting so many old friends; and then I went back to sleep on board.
The next morning I made a raid on the Red Cross Society and the "Absent Minded Beggar" people to beg for games, cards, books, tobacco, &c., for the men on the way home; and in a few hours' time they sent me on a splendid supply. Then it was "Ladies' Day" at the club, so I found time to run up to lunch with my brother there, and he had some old Kimberley friends also lunching with him. After that the troops were coming on board, so I had to go back to duty.
I was appointed Lady Superintendent for the voyage, and two more sisters were sent on to help us—also three Roman Catholic sisters who had been nursing in Bloemfontein, had a passage home on the Canada, and were to be "available for duty" if I wanted them.
The Cape Town people gave Lord Roberts a great send off on December 10th, and H.M.S. Doris escorted us out to sea.
We have very comfortable cabins, and the Major (who is P.M.O. on board) invited Sister —— and me to sit at his table in the saloon with four other officers, so we are well looked after.
A great many of the men are wounded, some of them going home for operations. We had twenty sent straight into the hospital before we sailed, and we soon began to fill up there and to get busy.
Before we reached St. Helena one poor fellow of the Yeomanry had died; he did not seem particularly bad when he came on board, but he came down to the hospital saying he felt "a bit queer"; his temperature was only 100°, but we admitted him at once, and he was evidently just beginning a relapse (enteric), and then he had a dreadful septic abscess and other complications, so we had to isolate him in a little cabin, to reach which we had to go past all the stables—there were several horses on board, including the charger poor Lieutenant Roberts was riding when he fell. He was so bad one evening that Sister —— volunteered to sit up with him, but when I went to relieve her at 7 A.M. we could both see that he was dying, and Sister offered to stay so that I should not infect myself; but she looked so done up (she is a bad sailor) I thought she had had enough, and the other sisters could quite well manage the hospital, so I sent her to disinfect, and go to bed.
The poor man died about 10 A.M., and was buried in the afternoon, Lord Roberts and all his staff attending. I don't think anything is more solemn than a funeral at sea; the slow march out to the stern, and the service read, and then the engines stop, and there is such a hush when the constant beat of the screw ceases; next the little splash as the body, heavily weighted and sewn up in a blanket, slides into the sea, and then the mournful "Last Post" sounded: once more the engines start, and we all go back to our posts.