On the 21st an unusual sort of show was held. The exhibits ranged from foals to babies, Mr. Minchin (Bechuanaland Rifles) securing first prize for the former, while Sergeant Brady, B.S.A.P., was the proud winner of the prize for the latter.
Colonel Baden-Powell sent a despatch reporting his own doings at the end of January to Colonel Nicholson. It ran as follows:—
“Inform the Commanding Staff Officer that we are well here. On January 23 the enemy moved their north-east supporting laager to within 4500 yards of the town. We pushed our advance works in that direction, and mounted Lord Nelson, an old naval smooth-bore gun, in an emplacement 3100 yards from the enemy. On the evening of January 29 we unmasked our guns and shelled the enemy’s camp with complete success. Next morning the Boer laager was moved back two miles.
“On the 31st we were busy on all sides of the town. On the south the men in our advance works had a skirmish with three of the enemy’s Krupp and Maxim guns, the firing being very heavy. A bombardment of our front on Cannon Kopje by the Boer 94-pounder followed. On the east front our four guns replied to this by a concentrated fire on the brickfield entrenchments, where the enemy poured in a musketry and artillery fire.
“On the north the enemy’s 5-pounders kept up a steady fire. They dropped one shell through the roof of the hospital, but luckily it did not explode. On the west the enemy, from their advanced works, opened a heavy rifle and Maxim fire on Fort Ayr, which our fort eventually silenced by the well-aimed fire of its guns. The enemy sent three big shells into the town after dark, but they gained nothing during the day.
“Our casualties during the past two days from the enemy’s shell fire have been three killed and three wounded. Mr. Kiddy, of the Railway Department, has died of fever.
“On February 2 General Snyman, in reply to my letter with regard to his deliberately shelling the women and children’s laagers on the 27th ult., offered no excuse or apology, and by a transparent falsehood practically admits that he ordered it. I have told him that I have now established temporary premises for the Boer prisoners in the women’s laager and in the hospital, in order to protect these places from deliberate shelling.”
General Snyman and Colonel Baden-Powell had also a correspondence regarding Snyman’s arming and raising of natives. In reply the old commandant said that he had merely armed the natives as cattle-guards. In his turn he complained that the British had been seen making fortifications on Sunday. The Colonel, who only relaid some mine wires, informed him that he had himself been entertained by watching the building of new fortifications by the Boers on that day.
On the 25th of January a shell burst through the convent, which was used as a convalescent hospital, and slightly wounded Lady Sarah Wilson, who had taken upon herself the care of the invalids. On the following day the women’s laager was continuously shelled, but fortunately with small result. There was general jubilation at reports received regarding the success of Lord Roberts’ operations. The news was an immense stimulus, and speculation as to the date of relief was freely indulged in. The besieged had learnt to gather hope from the smallest incidents. The disappearance from time to time of the 5-pounder Krupp, the 1-pounder Maxim, the 9-pounder quick-firing Creusot, which had a trick of making weekly excursions somewhere—caused them to conjecture whether Colonel Plumer had reached a point where these pieces could be made to come in handy. The 100-pounder Creusot, however, was untiring. It engaged only in shorter peregrinations, moving from one emplacement to another by way of variety, and keeping up a system of torture which acted badly on the nerves of the unhappy persons who were honoured with its attentions.
The following telegram, forwarded by runner from the Mayor of Mafeking (Mr. Whiteley), was addressed to Queen Victoria: “Mafeking upon the hundredth day of siege sends loyal devotion to your Majesty, and assurance of continued resolve to maintain your Majesty’s supremacy in this town.” The splendid little garrison had indeed a right to be proud of itself for having for so long a period held at bay a puissant and spiteful foe. It had fought, it had schemed, it had set its wits against the wits of Cronje and his successors, and defied them magnificently. “No surrender” was its motto, and the reply from the enemy was stamped on every house of this minute town—so minute that it could have been “stowed within the railings of St. James’ Park”—and scribbled in large black defacing lines wherever shot and shell could penetrate. Some idea of life’s daily accompaniment of artillery may be arrived at by reading a description of his experiences recounted by Mr. Neilly of the Pall Mall Gazette. He said:—“When the enemy’s artillery began to send us the heavy ration, those who knew most about the power of modern long-range high-velocity arms dreaded most the consequences. At the advice of our commander-in-chief, we went to earth, some into dug-outs, I, with others, into the wine-cellar of the hotel, which I consider was the most comfortable and luxurious place in the town. After breakfast a twelve-pounder on the heights went ‘Boom!’ Where had the shell gone? Had it struck a house? Had the building collapsed? Would the town be flattened and set on fire when the whole battery came into action? We speculated so until the second boom sounded, and the third quickly followed. Himmel! We had got it, and what a crash it was! Something had given way, and débris and shrapnel scattered like a hailstorm across the dining-room floor overhead. While some calmed the ladies, others of us doubled up through the trapdoor, slid the panel that divides the bar from the dining-room, and looked in. The dense smoke of the bursting charge filled the place, but there was nothing to indicate that anything was aflame. When the air cleared slightly we entered, to find the floor and tables littered with brick-dust and scrap iron; but the area of destruction was confined to the brickwork at the side of the window. Nothing was stirred upon the tables, which were laid for luncheon. That was enough. Had the house been built of good tough English brick, its flank would have probably collapsed; the rottenness of the walls had saved them; the rottenness of all the houses would bring about comparative safety to the town. Solids struck by shell add to the destruction wrought by the projectile through flying splinters; but there is no use in trying to batter sand stuck together with water. The concussion sends off the detonator, the burst makes a hole in the wall, and the further results are an untidied room and a bad fright to anybody who may be in it.”
The writer, like the rest of the plucky crew, talked airily of the ordeal that all passed through, without a single boast of the splendid effect of the garrison’s doughty resistance to the enemy in the early phases of the war.
It is scarcely possible to exaggerate the full importance of this magnificent defence at that time. As an object-lesson in British pluck, and the marvellous celerity with which peace-loving citizens may become glorious fighters, the defence as a whole stands without parallel. But from a political point of view the initial stoutness of the resistance was a coup which had far-reaching results.
There is no doubt that at the outset of the war a conspiracy was on foot between the Cape Dutch and the Federals, and that the capture of certain towns was to be taken as a signal for the joining of the allies to drive the British from South Africa. It was thought that the apparently insignificant village of Mafeking would be among the first to fall, and the conspirators congratulated themselves that once the place went under, the door to Rhodesia would fly open. The gallant Cronje, with nothing better to occupy him, could have worked his way north, attacked Colonel Plumer and his small force, and without doubt defeated them. He would then have proceeded on a triumphal march. Having intimidated the natives, who invariably back the man with the visible biceps, and having armed the Matabele and Mashonas, he would have completely swept and devastated the fair country of the Colossus before our troops could have had time to save it from ruin. How far the ruin would have spread it is difficult to say. Like dynamite, it would have struck upwards and downwards, north and south. The capture of Mafeking would have unhinged the native population there, and forced them to side with the Boers; and once the natives got under arms the situation would have become so complicated that it might have taken years to unravel, if indeed the Government had the patience to unravel it at all.
Then disaffection would have spread rapidly, even to Table Bay. Had Cronje at the outset not been kept tied to the place, occupied in trying to crack the nut which he eventually found too hard for his own teeth and for the sledge-hammer weapons of his mercenaries, he would have gone on from town to town gathering up adherents as he went, and causing intimidation of such a kind that even the loyally disposed would in sheer self-defence have thrown in their lot with him.