Colonel Kekewich was in command—a man of Devon, and very popular with his men. On the 24th of October they had their first taste of fighting, when a patrol came across a force of Boers who were out with the object of raiding the De Beers’ cattle. Kekewich, from his conning-tower, could see his men in difficulties, and sent out the armoured train, and the Boers were speedily dispersed. There were many wounded on both sides, and the Mauser bullet was found to be able to drill a neat hole through bone and muscle, in some cases without doing so much damage as the old bullets of lower velocity in earlier wars.
At the beginning of the siege it was feared that water might fail, but in three weeks the De Beers Company had contrived to supply the town with water from an underground stream in one of their mines.
The bombardment began on the 7th of November, and, as at Mafeking, did not do much damage, for the shells, being fired from Spytfontein, four miles away, and being a “job lot” supplied to the Transvaal Government, did not often reach the houses, and often forgot to burst. So that, it is said, an Irish policeman, hearing a shell explode in the street near him, remarked calmly to himself: “The blazes! and what will they be playing at next?”
But by the 11th the Boers had brought their guns nearer, had found the range, and were becoming a positive nuisance to quiet citizens.
Sunday was a day of rest and no shelling took place, but on other days it began at daylight, and, with pauses for meals and a siesta, continued till nine or ten o’clock at night. As usual, there were extraordinary escapes. One shell just missed the dining-room of the Queen’s Hotel, where a large company were at dinner, and, choosing the pantry close beside it, killed two cats. Luckily there was time between the sound of the gun and the arrival of the shell to get into cover.
The De Beers Company, having many clever engineers and artisans, soon began to make their own shells, which had “With C. J. R.’s Compts.” stamped upon them—rather a grim jest when they did arrive.
On the 28th November Colonel Scott Turner, who commanded the mounted men, was killed in a sortie. He was a very brave, but rather reckless, officer, and was shot dead close to the Boer fort.
Sometimes our own men would go out alone, spying and sniping, and in many cases they were shot by their own comrades by mistake.
By December the milk-farms outside the town had been looted, and fresh milk began to be very scarce; even tinned milk could not be bought without a doctor’s order, countersigned by the military officer who was in charge of the stores. The result was that many young children died.
At Christmas Sir Alfred Milner sent a message to Kimberley, wishing them a lucky Christmas. This gave the garrison matter for thought, and the townsfolk wondered if England had forgotten their existence.