“Oh no; the rain must have delayed them,” said some one more cheery.
“Perhaps the drifts are unpassable,” volunteered a third.
“I wonder if any of us will be left to receive them?” questioned the pessimist.
“Poof! only ten per cent. of us are disabled as yet!” chaffed the optimist lightly.
Though they did not know it, General Chermside, with the Third Division, had now marched about eight miles east of Reddersburg, and encamped in the locality where the Royal Irish Rifles surrendered. On the 19th a large body of the enemy was moving on with the apparent object of encountering General Brabant near Rouxville, and later on from the distance the muffled roar of musketry gave promise of the relieving action. Naturally, the spirits of the garrison began to rise, but their joy was short lived, for soon the Boers appeared on the west, and there brought five guns to bear on the British force. All day the round lips of the new visitors opened and hooted and spat! The Kaffrarian Rifles were treated to no less than 130 shrapnel shells. Brabant’s regiment and the Maxim kept up an active fire on the Boer gunners; but the guns were so cautiously protected that their efforts were crowned with small success. Even the redoubtable Captain Lukin failed to make his usual impression, for this officer had now decided that economy—economy of ammunition—must make the better part of Wepener valour. Major Maxwell, at dusk, with his cheery sappers, set to work to remedy the ravages of the day, but the prospect of affairs was not rendered more heartening by information which came in to the effect that Olivier, De Wet, Froneman, and others were closing in with their commandoes and mercenaries, numbering some 8000, from Rouxville, Smithfield, Ficksburg, and even from Ladybrand. This discovery caused no little anxiety. All were aware that Lord Roberts could and would come to their relief; but, nevertheless, it was impossible to ignore the fact that provisions began to dwindle and the poor trek oxen began to go, and no signs of a relieving column were evident. The officers and men were now on duty all night in the trenches—melancholy work, for deluges of rain made them sopping, and served to damp even the bellicose ardour of the most valorous.
LIEUT.-GENERAL SIR H. M. LESLIE-RUNDLE, K.C.B.
Photo by Russell & Sons, London
Their position by day, too, was pathetic in the extreme. It was impossible even for the most rollicking and dauntless to look unmoved to right or to left of him. Perhaps on one side he would be bounded by a “pal” doubled up and sweating with the agony of his wounds, while on the other would lie, clay-cold and immobile—with that unmistakable stiffness that they had learnt to know too well—a form that some moments before had been vibrant with humanity. In this entourage it was necessary throughout the long hours to keep up persistent fire at the enemy, and dodge and manœuvre so that the fate that loomed large and unforgetable on either hand might be kept at bay! Few indeed were in possession of a whole skin in these times—they fought, got wounded, went into hospital, came out partially healed and fought again, only to go back with fresh holes for repair. Sometimes they were carried to the churchyard by comrades of their corps—gaunt, weary, aching, grimy fellows with large hearts, who grimly professed to envy those—many there were by now—who had “every night in bed!”
On the evening of the 23rd there was some jubilation in Jammersberg camp. General Brabant heliographed from a place some fourteen miles distant, reporting an engagement with the enemy, and that they were retiring, though there was a strong force on his left flank. Heavy firing continued to be heard all day, most probably from the artillery of Generals Rundle and Chermside, who, at this time, were approaching Dewetsdorp from the south, or of Generals French and Pole-Carew, who were nearing that destination from the north. The plot was thickening. The sun was shining, the guns were going, and there was a chance the Boers might yet be hoist with their own petard, and in expectation thereof a veritable thrill passed through the camp.