I was early on Observation Hill, watching that strip of plain to the south-west. No shells were bursting on it to-day, and the sound of guns was not so frequent. Our heliograph flashed from the far-off Zwartz Kop, and high above it, looking hardly bigger than a vulture against the pale blue of the Drakensberg precipices, rose Buller's balloon, showing just a point of lustre on its skin.
The view from Observation Hill is far the finest, but the whiz of bullets over the rocks scarcely ever stops, and now and again a shell comes screaming into the rank grass at one's feet.
To-day we enjoyed a further variety, well worth the risk. At the foot of Surprise Hill, hardly 1,500 yards from our position, the Boers have placed a mortar. Now and then it throws a huge column of smoke straight up into the air. The first I thought was a dynamite explosion, but after a few seconds I heard a growing whisper high above my head, as though a falling star had lost its way, and plump came a great shell into the grass, making a 3ft. hole in the reddish earth, and bursting with no end of a bang. We collected nearly all the bits and fitted them together. It was an eight or nine-inch globe, reminding one of those "bomb-shells" which heroes of old used to catch up in their hands and plunge into water-buckets. The most amusing part of it was the fuse—a thick plug of wood running through the shell and pierced with the flash-channel down its centre. It was burnt to charcoal, but we could still make out the holes bored in its side at intervals to convert it into a time-fuse. This is the "one mortar" catalogued in our Intelligence book. It was satisfactory to have located it. Two guns of the 69th Battery threw shrapnel over its head all morning; then the Naval guns had a turn and seem to have reduced it to silence.
In the afternoon there was an auction of Steevens's horses and camp equipment. Many officers came, and the usual knot of greedy civilians on the look-out for a bargain. As auctioneer I had great satisfaction in running the prices up beyond their calculation. But in another way they got the best of the old country to-day. Colonel Stoneman, having discovered a hidden store of sugar, was selling it at the fair price of 4d. a pound to any one who pledged his word he was sick and in need of it. Round clustered the innocent local dealers with sick and sorry looks, swearing by any god they could remember that sugar alone would save their lives, paid their fourpences, and then sold the stuff for 2s. outside the door.
January 20, 1900.
Again I was on Observation Hill two or three times in the day. It is impossible to keep away from it long. The rumble of the British guns was loud but intermittent, but the Boer camps remain where they were. With us the bombardment continued pretty steadily. After a silence of two days "Puffing Billy," of Bulwan, threw one shell into the town and six among the Devons. His usual answer to the report that he has worn himself out or been carried away. Whilst he was firing I tried to get sight of a small mocking bird, which has learnt to imitate the warning whistle of the sentries. In the Gordons the Hindoo, Purriboo Singh, from Benares, stands on a huge heap of sacks under an umbrella all day and screams when he sees the big gun flash. But in the other camps, as I have mentioned, a sentry gives warning by blowing a whistle. The mocking bird now sounds that whistle at all times of the day, and what is even more perplexing, he is learning to imitate the scream and buzzle of the shell through the air. He may learn the explosion next. I mention this peculiar fact for the benefit of future ornithologists, who might otherwise be puzzled at his form of song.
Another interesting event in natural history occurred a short time ago up the Port road. A Bulwan shell, missing the top of Convent Hill, lobbed over and burst at random with its usual din and circumstance. People rushed up to see what damage it had done, but they only found two little dead birds—one with a tiny hole in her breast, the other with an eye knocked out. Ninety-six pounds of iron, brass, and melinite, hurled four miles through the air, at unknown cost, just to deal a true-lovers' death to two sparrows, five of which are sold for one farthing!
Sunday, January 21, 1900.
After varying my trek-ox rations by catching a kind of barbel with a worm in the yellow Klip, I went again to Observation Hill, and with the greater interest because every one was saying two of the Boer camps were in flames. Of course it was a lie. The camps stood in their usual places quite undisturbed. But I saw one of our great shells burst high up the mountain side of Taba Nyama (Black Mountain) instead of on the plain at its foot, and with that sign of forward movement I was obliged to be content.