It was a terrific massacre, which lasted for ten days, as Cronje, with the desperation of a doomed pirate, sullenly refused to give in even after hope was extinguished, preferring to see his men and women slaughtered like rats in a trap, rather than own that he was conquered.
Doubtless his past atrocities and treacheries made him consider himself a doomed man if taken alive by the people whom he had hated so malignantly and treated so mercilessly. After the first few days, when he saw division after division come up and occupy the surrounding kopjes in grim and overwhelming numbers, this must have made him abandon hope of any outside aid. He was trapped, and in a position that was impossible to hold for long. As the guns poured their deadly fire over his laager, blowing up his ammunition carts and provision waggons, and destroying both men and cattle wholesale, he must have felt that just retribution had at last overtaken his blood-stained soul. Thinking possibly that, if taken, the only fate he could expect was the rope, he settled down sullenly to die at his post. With his customary callous indifference to the fate of others, he allowed no thought of his countrymen and their wives to influence him now. As he had ever been, he remained in this last tragedy the incarnation of ferocious obstinacy. He was Piet Cronje, the master criminal of the Transvaal.
It was not a pleasant task for the British or their leaders to continue this pitiless, yet necessary slaughter. During these ten days Cronje was given repeated chances to surrender, but he sullenly refused, even when he knew that the Boers had been driven off on all sides, who had come to break the environment of death. Trapped on the banks of that river in which they had burrowed like rabbits, he still continued fighting desperately, with the alternatives of death from lyddite, death from starvation, or death from drowning when the river became flooded.
This insensate and wasteful courage, while it filled the world with horror, yet won a certain admiration also. Had he and his men been only there, he might have been admired as a hero. But when he sacrificed women and children as well, it was utterly revolting. The heroes of Ladysmith, Mafeking, and Kimberley took every precaution to protect their women, but Cronje could not where he was placed. Therefore, as a brave man, he ought to have yielded. To hold out as he did was the act of a savage monster, not a man. While his character must for ever make him an object of loathing, as we loathe the memory of those black-hearted ruffians of the Spanish Main, his stubborn courage during those ten hellish days can only merit qualified respect.
It was like the last stand of Dan Morgan, the bloody Australian bushranger, and Morgan was as game as Cronje, with fewer crimes on his conscience.
While the artillery filled the sky with hurtling death, the captive balloon floated above and indicated the targets. It is not surprising if six thousand Boers perished during those ten days. The wonder is that four thousand escaped death. It also speaks significantly for Cronje’s discretion, that, when he surrendered, he was unwounded.
Our heroes saw a good deal of action during this time, as they were with those who had the duty to keep back the relieving forces. But they were trained soldiers now, and the constant movement and fighting made them happy. Meantime Lords Roberts and Kitchener watched keenly the progress of the siege, and let no chance escape for bringing it to a close with the least possible loss to their soldiers. Day after day the cordon drew closer round that death-trap, until the Imperialists were almost within speaking distance of the rebels.
At last the Canadians brought their trenches to within four hundred yards of the enemy; then the Boers would fight no longer. The thought of the next stage, cold steel, cowed them completely. Thus the sullen Cronje submitted, and placed himself and his followers at the discretion of his chivalrous conquerors. The shame of England, and the everlasting disgrace of those who placed this stain on our flag, was avenged. On the anniversary of Majuba Hill, February 27th, its blot was wiped out.
In his gracious reception of Cronje, Lord Roberts proved to posterity how impossible it is for a Briton to cherish revenge for private wrongs. He had lost his son at Colenso. His heart must have been bleeding for that loss, yet this gave no tinge of bitterness to his kindly and flattering welcome to his captive. He granted freely all that Cronje asked, and treated him with the same consideration that an honourable enemy might have expected. This is one of the greatest acts in a life covered with glory.
Now began the triumphant march to Bloemfontein, with the joyful tidings of the relief of Ladysmith. In every direction victory favoured our British armies. The Boers fled panic-stricken before them. Their day was over, and it was all in vain that the ogre of Pretoria, Oom Paul Kruger, hurried to the front, with his accomplice Steyn. They could not stop the run.