LIEUT.-GENERAL THOMAS KELLY-KENNY, C.B.
Photo by C. Knight, Aldershot.
The Colossus, regardless of the fate that hung over the town, continued to make plans and projects for the development of the place. On a high plateau he purposed to create a new suburb, and the name will doubtless bear a relationship to the great events of 1900. A column was in course of erection to commemorate the siege, but the tale of bombardment, writ large on many of the buildings, is one that will scarcely be forgotten, and forms memorial enough. Some curious damage was done, a shrapnel shell electing to penetrate the wall of a draper’s shop and wound a feminine dummy and smash a wax effigy of a boy used as a clothes model. Fortunately few human beings suffered. Great precautions were taken for the safety of the inhabitants, and a look-out was kept, so as to give warning by whistle whenever the smoke of the enemy’s guns breathed a hint of coming destruction. A calculation was made as to the sum total expended by guns, British and Dutch, and it was discovered that Kimberley had fired 1005 shells, while the besiegers had spent three times that number. The total loss of life attributable to shell fire amounted at this date to about twelve killed.
Affairs within the town were now growing almost as bellicose as affairs without it. Continued friction generates heat, and of this throughout the siege there had been more and more as time went on. It was quite evident that Kimberley was not sufficiently large to afford an arena for the combat of brains versus military discipline, and that the patience of the besieged was nearing the snapping-point. Indeed there was doubt as to whether operations for the relief of Kimberley would be pursued, and it is averred that the Commander-in-Chief sent a message to Mr. Rhodes, saying, “Hope I shall not be compelled to leave you in the lurch.” Naturally the Kimberley barometer fell to zero. Then came rumours of the coming of Lord Roberts, but these scarcely served to allay the general impatience.
A curious incident occurred on the 29th. Some thirty-five Zulus took their departure. They had been ordered by their chief to leave the town, but when they obeyed they had promptly to return, as they encountered the Boers, who threatened to shoot them.
At this time food was becoming more and more scarce; even horse-flesh was distributed with caution. Milk was obtainable only by the invalids, and some four hundred babes died for want of proper nourishment. It was pathetic to see people standing at the Town Hall waiting eagerly to take their turn for the scanty portion of meat that could be provided for them. The ceremony of the drawing of meat rations had an aspect almost comic in its desperate seriousness. Matutinally at 5.30 A.M. might be seen a vast concourse of persons scampering in hot haste to gain a front place. So animated was the early bird to catch its morning worm, that it was up and doing before the regulated hour, 5.30 (fixed by proclamation), before which time people were forbidden to leave their houses. The police put a stop to this superactivity, and hungry persons were seen from five to the half-hour waiting patiently at their gates till the exact moment should arrive when they could make a dash for a place in the tremendous crush which, two by two, gathered outside the market.
Marvellous was the rapidity with which this vast crowd, at hint of a shell, would drop to earth. As by some mechanical process there would come a bang, and then, like a card castle, the whole procession would drop flat. The Boers, knowing, most probably, that this was an eventful period of the morning, would invariably start off about six with a boisterous “good-morrow.”
Gradually the rations grew shorter and shorter and shorter. They now consisted mainly of horse-meat, served out every second day, mealie meal, stamped mealies, with a sparse allowance of tea, coffee, and bread. For those who had children under three years of age one tin of milk was allowed. With this strong children could get along well, but there were many weakly ones, and these waned and waned till the baby funerals became pathetically frequent.
The Dutchmen were exceedingly ingenious in the invention of tricks and traps. One of these was to move a waggon with sixteen fat oxen in charge of but two men into the open Vlei below Tarantaal Ridge, and there to leave it, apparently unguarded, for two hours. They thought that this bait would lure forth the cattle-guard, but they were disappointed, for the authorities were too acute to allow them to get “a bite.” They knew that in rear of the Vlei was a deep sand-drift, behind which a large body of men might be comfortably concealed, and consequently left waggon and cattle severely alone.
After this began the bombardment by a new Boer gun—a diabolical instrument, whose perfections were hymned by an artillery expert, who declared it to be one of the most perfect pieces of ordnance ever made! A correspondent in the Daily Telegraph described the terrifying effect produced on the nerves of the sick and the weakly. He went on: “The shock caused by the firing of this gun was distinctly perceptible five feet under ground at a distance of five miles, and the miniature earthquake thus created was clearly registered by the new seismograph at Kenilworth, the pendulum of which remained perfectly stationary during the firing of the smaller guns, or the passage of the most heavily laden trains or vehicles at very close quarters.”
The 9th of February was a terrible day. There was crashing and booming from morning till night, and no one dared venture abroad. One inhabitant had his child killed under his very eyes and his wife mortally stricken down. Towards sundown a shell struck the Grand Hotel, killing Mr. Labram, the De Beers chief engineer, whose valuable brains had been the salvation of the place. He had constructed armoured engines, armoured trains, and had completed his ingenious labours by constructing the huge 4.1-inch gun, with carriage and shells complete—a triumph of science considering the conditions under which the achievement was attempted. Now he was gone, and Kimberley was vastly the poorer.