General Baden-Powell, Lord Edward Cecil, and other Officers, at the Entrance to their “Dug-out.” (Photo by D. Taylor, Mafeking.)
The capture of the kraal and surroundings by Major Godley, Captain Marsh, and Captain Fitzclarence was ingeniously accomplished. They had not taken lessons in Boer warfare for six months for nothing, consequently, instead of making themselves targets for the foe, they crept towards the walls, bored loopholes with their bayonets, and poured their fire on the invaders. These fought pluckily, but presently came the artillery, and directly the order was given to commence fire the enemy thought it high time to surrender. Then came the question of the fort, where Colonel Hore was still the prisoner of Eloff. Brisk and accurate firing took place, and so hot was the attack that many of the British were wounded by their own people. The victorious Eloff and his party, cut off from his supports and devoid of the assistance reckoned on from Snyman, now found his position as conqueror highly unenviable. Night was coming on, and many of his party struggled to slink out and desert him, but he fired on them and left their dead bodies to add to the confusion. Finally, as there was no help from without, Eloff—surrounded by Colonel Baden-Powell’s troops—did the only thing that could be done in the circumstances—he surrendered to his own prisoner, Colonel Hore. Thereupon, he, and others of his gang, numbering 110, including Baron de Bremont, Captain von Weissmann, and several field-cornets, were deprived of their arms and marched into the town, to be accommodated in the Masonic Hall and in the jail. Their appearance was greeted with courteous silence and a certain admiration for the daring of the attack, but the exuberance of the Kaffirs was uncheckable, and they hooted lustily. They had suffered much at the hands of their tormentors, and in this, their hour of triumph, they would not be denied. Of the Boers, 110 were prisoners, 10 were killed, and 19 wounded. It was supposed that other corpses may have been dragged away and disposed of by the natives, who thus got possession of rifles, which weapons had been refused them by the British.
The British casualties were:—
Killed.—Lieutenant Phillips, Trooper Maltuschek, Trooper Duberley. Wounded.—Captain Singleton, Lieutenant G. Bridges, Sergeant Hoskings, Regimental Sergeant-Major S. Malley—all of the Protectorate Regiment; Hazelrigg, Cape Police; Smidt, Town Guard.
Sergeant-Major Heale, in charge of the Dutch prisoners, an esteemed member of the garrison, was killed by a shell. Of Trooper Maltuschek, a few words written by Major Baillie deserve to be quoted, as showing the manner of man and Briton he was. It appears that the gallant fellow absolutely declined to surrender, and fought till he was killed. “It wasn’t a case of dashing in and dashing out and having your fun and a fight; it was a case of resolution to die sooner than throw down your arms; the wisdom may be questionable, the heroism undoubted. He wasn’t taking any surrender. As far as I am concerned, I have seen the British assert their superiority over foreigners before now, but this man, in my opinion, though I did not see him die, was the bravest man who fought on either side that day. It is a good thing to be an Englishman. These foreigners start too quick and finish quicker. They are good men, but we are better, and have proved so for several hundred years. I had always wanted to see the Englishman fight in a tight hole, and I know what he is worth now. He can outstay the other chap.” In these last words is the whole summing up of the story of battle. In Mafeking, particularly on this terrific day, the British men—and women—had “outstayed the other chap.”
The reason that the loss after so many hours’ fighting was comparatively insignificant, was owing to the fact that the garrison was so splendidly handled, and that every soul, ladies included, took a plucky share in the work. Lady Sarah Wilson, Mrs. Buchan, Miss Crawford, and Miss Hill, the matron of the hospital, all distinguished themselves by their plucky actions; and Mrs. Winter and Mrs. Bradley were indefatigable in ministering to the wants of the men. Even the most peaceful beings became bellicose in the common cause, and Reuter’s correspondent gave an amusing account of how Mr. Whales, the editor of the Mafeking Mail, who was exceedingly plucky but quite unacquainted with military matters, comported himself in the dire emergency. When the railway workshops were manned Mr. Whales got a gun to help; but every time he discharged it, it hit him on the nose, with the result that when all was over, he returned to the bosom of his family covered with his own blood!
Of course this was merely a passing jocosity, for the same chronicler declared that “the most interesting phase of the fight was the manner in which every one in the town showed himself ready to take his share in its defence. The seven months’ siege had left very few cowards. All sorts of men who have staff billets and do not generally man the forts seized rifles and hurried to the railway line, the jail, and the workshops, resolved to die in the last ditch, which was the railway line, within three hundred yards of the market-square, the enemy being only five hundred yards below the line.” He further said, “It is customary in London rather to look down on town guards, Volunteers, and citizen soldiers, but it was by these that the town was held and Commandant Eloff was beaten.”
Strange tales were told in that eventful day of the kind treatment meted out to the Boers. They were given clean towels and soap (the latter was at first mistaken for an eatable), and tended like brothers, while all the past aggravations endured at their hands were forgotten or at least ignored. The prisoners, wounded or sound, were greeted almost affectionately by the town. Such drink as there was was shared, and for the time being, amid the general jubilation, at the close of the melodramatic episodes of the day it was difficult to decide which were the happier, friend or foe. Thus generously wrote Mr. Angus Hamilton of the enemy: “We who had been prisoners and were now free rejoiced in the liberty which was restored to us, yet it was difficult to restrain oneself from feeling compassionately upon the great misfortunes which had attended the extraordinary dash and gallantry of the men who were now our prisoners. They had done their best. They had proved to us that they were indeed capable, and that we should have kept a sharper look-out, while it was indeed deplorable to think that it was the treachery of their own general in abandoning them to their fate, that had been mainly instrumental in procuring them their present predicament.”
Sergeant Stuart’s account of his experiences was curious. On the morning that Eloff entered, he heard shooting at the east end of the town, and sprang out of bed, “shoved” on a coat, and seized his rifle. When he got out he saw flames at the west end, and ran across the open towards the fort. When he came nearer he saw 400 Boers looking over a wall. They cried out, ‘Up hands! surrender.’ He was within forty yards, so he turned and bolted. They fired but did not touch him, and he reached the fort. He surrendered soon after, with Colonel Hore and twenty-four others. They were put into a little hut, and kept there all day, firing going on all round. At 6 P.M. Eloff came into the room—about six feet square—and leant against the door, and said, ‘Where is Colonel Hore?’ ‘There he is.’ ‘I surrender,’ said Eloff, ‘if you will spare our lives and stop the firing.’ The prisoners then sprang up and took their rifles from them, making them their prisoners.’ Another authority declared that when Eloff was taken before Colonel Baden-Powell, that officer with his customary ease received him affably, and merely said, “Come and have dinner; I am just about to have mine!” Certain it is that Commandant Eloff, Captain von Weissmann, and Captain Bremont were entertained at headquarters.