Extra precautions were taken in regard to the white flag. It began to be believed at last that the Boer would take an unfair advantage of the Briton whenever he should get a chance. Strangely enough, our officers seemed to have forgotten or disregarded the object-lesson of the tragic affair of Bronker’s Spruit. Yet Boer “slimness” was then well enough established. The unfortunate Colonel Anstruther caused to be printed in the Transvaal Government Gazette a bi-lingual proclamation, informing the Boers that, in consequence of the many treacherous uses to which the white flag had been put, he would in future recognise the emblem only under the following conditions: two Boers accompanied by an officer, and all unarmed, must approach the lines bearing the white flag aloft. The British soldiers were also advised to keep well under cover whenever the flag was displayed. This showed that reliance on Boer honour would in no case be attempted. At the present date Boer morality had not improved, and it was even declared that the Free Staters had made their women boil down their national flag, so that in its pallid state it might at a little distance be mistaken for the white flag, and come in handy in case of need.

On the 20th of December a picket, consisting of seven men belonging to the 13th Hussars, was surprised some five miles from camp, in the direction of Weenen, by a party of sixty Boers. These cautiously crept round some kopjes to where the outpost was stationed. A smart tussle ensued. Two men were killed and seven horses were lost. No sooner had information of the fight reached camp than some of Bethune’s and Thorneycroft’s Mounted Infantry were despatched to the rescue, but the Boers, on perceiving these reinforcements, quickly fled and thus escaped punishment.

At this time the second advance for the relief of Ladysmith was very secretly being organised, but no one knew exactly when Sir Redvers Buller meant to move, or whether he intended to give up the idea of a frontal attack altogether. Our Generals were criticised for making frontal attacks, but Clausewitz declares that the attempt to turn the flank of the enemy can only be justified by a great superiority; this superiority may be either actual superiority of numbers, or it may follow from the way in which the lines of communication are placed. Unfortunately we had no favouring strength; the Boers outnumbered us everywhere, and not only did they exceed us numerically, but their mobility enabled them so quickly to move from front to flank positions that they were, on desire, facing us at any moment. In fact the Boer army had no flank, and therefore the vast amount of after-the-event wisdom which was gratuitously handed about by “the man in the street” was absolutely wasted.

An unfortunate incident now occurred. Capt. James Rutherford and Mr. Grenfell, S.A.L.H., while visiting the pickets, disappeared. They apparently rode into the midst of the enemy’s scouts, who were everywhere prowling about, and were forced to surrender. The report of the capture was brought to the camp by native runners, who stated that the officers had been removed to Pretoria. However, for two gallant Britons lost there was one gained, for at the very time Mr. Winston Churchill had almost miraculously made himself free of his captors.

The story of his escape reads like a novel; but truth is stranger than fiction. When removed to Pretoria after the disaster to the armoured train at Chieveley, he almost gave up hope of escape; indeed he had every reason so to do, for on the 12th of December he was informed by the Transvaal Government’s Secretary for War that there was little chance of his release. Whereupon, with many doubts and misgivings, he discussed with himself the best means of struggling for freedom. The State Schools Prison was well guarded; it was surrounded by a high wall, and the sentries were vigilant in the extreme. He formed for himself a plan, however, and once when the back of the sentry was momentarily turned he took his courage in both hands as the French say, rushed at the six-foot wall, scaled it, and let himself down into a neighbouring garden before his movement could be detected. The garden was the garden of an inhabited house. There were lights in the windows; more, there were visitors on the verandah, and presently, ramblers among the paths! Moments of horror as the escaped hid in the trees seemed to become years, discovery appeared to be merely a matter of moments. But evidently the Fates decided that so useful a member of creation—warrior, writer, and politician—could not be spared by society or his country, and in a little while Mr. Churchill found himself wandering, undisguised and unrecognised, through the streets of the town. Burghers passed him, passengers brushed his shoulders. Nobody asked his business. It was evident that Fate wanted him. The stars said so, and following their direction he struck out towards the Delagoa Railroad. He knew that he dared ask his way of none; he was aware that he must make the most of the cloak of night; he was intimate enough with Boer customs to be certain that in a few hours his description would be posted throughout the two Republics. The present, and only the present, was his. He walked along the line, evading the watchers on bridges and culverts, and determining to stick to the rails, without which he might find himself lost or wandering back in the teeth of the enemy. Once free of the town, he bided his time cautiously in the neighbourhood of an adjacent station. There he watched the coming of a train, and just as it steamed past him, with an alacrity and agility born of sheer despair, he made a leap towards a truck, grabbed at a hook on the edge, boarded it, and was soon burrowing deep in a cargo of coal-sacks. There he lay, grimy, exhausted, and almost distraught, but happy. He was free. Every minute the anxiety for freedom had grown within him, till now, fighting his way towards it, it had become an almost savage passion. He had decided he would never go back. No one should capture him. But this was easier to swear than to accomplish. To escape detection it was necessary again to risk his life—to leap off the train as he had leapt on it, while the machinery was in full swing and the driver ignorant of the existence of his distinguished passenger. Before dawn, therefore, he emerged from the coal-heap, and with a flying leap landed flat on the railroad. He gathered himself together, and by sunrise was concealed in a wood, his only companion for some time being a vulture. The sojourn in the cool boskage of the Transvaal was fraught with good luck, and at dusk when the fugitive emerged he was another man. At last he was able to gather his forces together for another trip on a passing train. There was always danger though—danger because it was necessary to hug the line, and where the line was, there also were railway guards, or at least humanity—inimical humanity, who most probably were plotting his ruin. Plod, plod, plod; so passed the hours, scrambling along in the dead of night through sluits and dongas in the effort to avoid the direct neighbourhood of huts, bridges, stations, and yet keep in touch with the winding iron track that led to the longed-for sea. For five days and nights he persevered, tramping after dark and sneaking under cover all day, and dimly conscious that the hue and cry had gone forth, and that every man’s hand in the enemy’s country was now turned against him. On the sixth day he managed again with amazing good fortune to safely board a train, and this time it was one going from Middleburg to Delagoa Bay. Again he burrowed among sacks and carefully hid himself, so carefully, indeed, that owing to his extreme precaution discovery was evaded. The train was searched, the sacks were prodded. Deep down, scarcely daring to breathe, lay the man they were seeking—an inch or two off—just an inch or two off. He drew a long breath and praised God for his escape. After that he passed some sixty hours in all the agonies of suspense. Famine and thirst preyed on him, and active horror lest all his exertions should be in vain, lest, at the very last moment, the whole struggle of hope and wretchedness would end in dire and fatal disaster. But he was preserved. He arrived at Lourenço Marques on the 21st of December, and from there proceeded to Natal. “I am very weak, but I am free.” Such were the words of his telegram; no wired words ever meant more. “I have lost many pounds in weight, but I am lighter in heart; and I avail myself of this moment, which is a witness to my earnestness, to urge an unflinching and uncompromising prosecution of the war.” In regard to Mr. Winston Churchill’s arrival among his friends in Natal, an eye-witness wrote:—

“The 23rd of December last was a memorable day at Durban, perhaps the most memorable since that on which the Boers’ ultimatum was published. From Lourenço Marques had come the exciting intelligence that young Winston Churchill, a distinguished member of a world-renowned race, had succeeded in evading his jailers at Pretoria, and, after a series of thrilling adventures, had arrived safely at Delagoa Bay. The telegrams had further announced that the hero had immediately shipped on board the Rennie liner Induna and would land at Durban that very afternoon. The fame of Mr. Churchill as a soldier and an author was already established. The history of his gallantry both in India and at Omdurman was already well known to every good Natalian before he first stepped ashore there as one of the war correspondents of the Morning Post. His subsequent courageous conduct at Chieveley at the unfortunate incident of the armoured train and his capture by the Boers, now capped by his marvellous escape from Pretoria, had set Durban agog with excitement, and filled all and sundry with hearty desires to afford him a right royal welcome on his landing again on British soil.

“The brilliant summer sunshine, tempered by a fresh sea-breeze which sent a soft ripple across the deep blue surface of the magnificent harbour; the bold headland of the bluff contrasting vividly against the streets of iron-roofed dwellings in the township; the large numbers of ocean-going steamers and sailing craft, gay with bunting; the eager, expectant crowd of every class of society, from gaily-dressed ladies to wharf labourers, refugees, and Kaffirs in but shirts and trousers, all contributed to the completion of a picturesque panorama never to be forgotten. Long before midday did we assemble in our thousands. When it was whispered about that the Induna would berth alongside the steamer Inchanga, and that Mr. Churchill must cross the decks of the Inchanga before stepping ashore, a rush was made for her, and, in spite of all the efforts of the officers and crew, the crowd swarmed like bees on her. They took possession of every available point of vantage; they invaded the sacred precincts of the captain’s bridge; they braved the perils of the rigging; they huddled together on the ‘fo’cas’le’; they filled every boat; and, heedless of fresh paint, they clung affectionately to the ventilators and the funnel.

“After having been several times reported the Induna rounded the point at half-past two. Amid breathless expectation she steamed slowly across the harbour. Standing beside the captain on the bridge a smallish, clean-shaven man was descried, and the crowd at once recognised him as the hero whom they had assembled to honour. A thousand good British cheers broke the silence, a thousand lusty throats shouted a heartfelt welcome. But this was not all. The sturdy Natalians did not stop at shouting. The moment the Induna was moored Mr. Churchill, smiling, was seized bodily by twenty pairs of brawny arms, was patted and thumped on the back by hundreds of applauding hands, and finally, after being nearly strangled by over-zealous admirers who were waving hats and handkerchiefs and crying ‘Bravo!’ and ‘Well done!’ he was carried shoulder-high across the decks of the Inchanga and deposited in a ricksha, whence a speech was demanded. In a few modest sentences Mr. Churchill good-humouredly narrated some of the more prominent episodes of his exploit, and a start was made for his hotel, the ricksha-boy being assisted more or less by some fifty amateur ricksha-men and escorted by a majority of the crowd. After picking up the editor of the Natal Mercury on the way, and installing him in state by the side of Mr. Churchill, the hotel was at last reached, and the demand for another speech having been acceded to, Mr. Churchill was permitted at four o’clock to retire from the public gaze. The same night he left Durban for the front.”

The following is a copy of the letter written by Mr. Winston Churchill to Mr. de Souza prior to escaping from prison:—

“State Schools Prison, Pretoria.

“Dear Mr. de Souza,—I do not consider that your Government was justified in holding me, a press correspondent and a non-combatant, as a prisoner, and I have consequently resolved to escape. The arrangements I have succeeded in making with my friends outside are such as to give me every confidence. But I wish, in leaving you thus hastily and unceremoniously, to once more place on record my appreciation of the kindness which has been shown me and the other prisoners by you, by the commandant, and by Dr. Gunning, and my admiration of the chivalrous and humane character of the Republican forces. My views on the general question of the war remain unchanged, but I shall always retain a feeling of high respect for the several classes of the Burghers I have met, and on reaching the British lines I will set forth a truthful and impartial account of my experiences in Pretoria. In conclusion, I desire to express my obligations to you, and to hope that when this most grievous and unhappy war shall have come to an end, a state of affairs may be created which shall preserve the national pride of the Boers and the security of the British, and put a final stop to the rivalry and enmity of both races. Regretting that circumstances have not permitted me to bid you a personal farewell, believe me, yours very sincerely,

“Winston Churchill.

“December 11, 1899.”

CHRISTMAS AT THE CAPE AND NATAL

We had arrived at what might be termed a breathing spell. There was no serious movement in the direction of the Modder River, and Lord Methuen was evidently biding his time. General Gatacre felt himself too weak to take up any very active or offensive step, while General French contented himself with such harassing and cleverly annoying operations as kept the enemy, like a man with a mosquito round his nose, from napping. There was great hope of better things, however, for it was known that the Dunottar Castle had left England and was conveying to the Cape—in addition to Lord Roberts—Lord Kitchener and Major-General T. Kelly-Kenny, the Commander of the Sixth Division. Besides these were the following officers of Lord Roberts’s Staff:—Major-General G. T. Pretyman; Colonel Viscount Downe, C.I.E.; Major H. V. Cowan; Captain A. C. M. Waterfield; Major J. F. R. Henderson; Major C. V. Hume; Brevet-Major G. F. Gorringe, D.S.O.; Colonel Lord Erroll; Commander the Hon. S. J. Fortescue (Naval Adviser to Lord Roberts); Captain Lord Herbert Scott; Captain Lord Settrington.