Dr. Crow wrote at the time a most touching account of his burial. He said, “Words fail to describe a scene so sad and so unique. The remains were placed on a stretcher and carried by four sergeants, three out of the four being wounded; while the majority of those who followed were wounded too, some on crutches, others wearing splints, others with bandaged heads, and some unable to walk, were carried on the backs of their more fortunate comrades. At the grave not a dry eye could be seen, and one and all seemed to think that a friend, a good man, and a soldier, in the widest and best sense of the term, was gone for ever from their midst.”
Mr. Nellmapius, the Portuguese Vice Consul, whose acquaintance I had formed on the diamond fields, and Mr. John Gray of Transpoort, who years before I had known as a sugar planter in Natal, with a few others, did all they could for the wounded, who for four months were kept and attended to under canvas.
The Boers, it is said, showed a good deal of kindness and attention to our wounded immediately after the fight; but a friend of mine who was there at the time, and with whom I discussed the question of the Boers and their motives, assured me they did not treat our wounded kindly from any feelings of sympathy, but from a fear of after consequences, should the tide of war flow against them, and it was that reason which made them leave us alone after the fight to sink or swim as best we might, without let or interference.
Turning our horses’ heads homewards, we just managed to drive a few miles on the road to Pretoria when darkness overtook us, and we outspanned near some Dutch wagons which were going up to Sekokoni’s country. I received great kindness from the Boer in charge, who, seeing I was far from well, insisted on my taking a sleep in his wagon until the moon rose, which it did about four o’clock in the morning, enabling us to continue our journey.
Whatever may be reported concerning the incivility and churlishness of the Boers, I only speak from my own experience when I say that during the whole of my trip I received nothing but kindness at their hands. I, however, treated them with proper courtesy, not as an inferior race, which so many English upstarts do, did not order when I should ask, nor forget that the farmer was to a certain extent my host. These Dutch farmers have become uncivil in their own defence. A good deal is due to the diamond fields, and the different classes they have attracted. On the coach arriving at a Dutch farm-house, where as a favor its passengers were allowed to rest, some among them would, too often, take unpardonable liberties, would order round the inmates, enter the gardens, break off branches of the trees, steal the fruit if ripe, if unripe pelt each other with it from sheer wantonness, and leave when they had caused the farmer all the damage and annoyance they could. No wonder that in time all strangers were treated alike with abrupt and scant courtesy. Pushing along when the moon rose, we drove to Zwart Kopje, close to which there is a nice farm-house surrounded by splendid fruit trees. This was the place where the first fight took place after Bronkhorst Spruit. Zwart Kopje at the time was a very strong position, but our troops were successful in dislodging the Laager which the Boers had formed there, losing, however, six men in the attempt, while our enemies lost three. Here we took a good rest; intending to make the “Eerste Fabrieken” the last stage before Pretoria; we did this and then resting a short time at Mundt’s farm, seeing some pretty girls and eating some delicious fruit, we arrived at Pretoria about six P. M., after a most delightful and interesting trip.
I need scarcely say that sleep soon fell upon me, but dreams of cruel disappointment, broken faith, ruined prospects, shattered fortunes, disgrace and despair, haunted me the livelong night, and when morning broke, I woke up with the stern fact forcing itself upon me, that all, alas! was but too true, the vivid dreams of the night being but phantasms of the day’s sober realities.
Even in Mr. Gladstone’s political manifesto, previous to the last general election but one, he thus attempted to excuse his disgraceful surrender to the Boers after the defeat at Majuba: “We have been severely condemned because, after supplying military means such as to place beyond doubt the superiority of the British power, we refused to prosecute a work of sanguinary subjugation.”
How Mr. Gladstone could write such misleading words, in the face of his own previously expressed opinion, in face of the distinct and positive answer he made Mr. Rylands in the House of Commons on January 22, 1881, that, “it was the resolute intention of the government to establish the British supremacy in the Transvaal in the first instance,” in the face of Bronkhorst Spruit, Laing’s Nek, Tugogo, and Majuba, four defeats, which entirely put an end to the belief in British superiority, not only in the minds of the Boers, but also in those of the natives, is difficult to understand.
The retrocession of the Transvaal will remain a blot on the Gladstone escutcheon which no amount of sophistry will ever be able to wipe out.
My medical friends were very kind; the luncheons, dinners, and suppers I ate, and the genial society I enjoyed at their hospitable boards, I shall never forget.