The ten days’ march to Vryburg, which was reached on the 24th of May, was comparatively uneventful, but the Yeomanry did excellent work, as the following report of a Glasgow yeoman serves to show:—“We were most of the time on half-rations, and every morning were up before 2 A.M.... The first day we left the camp at Warrenton we crossed the Vaal River, where the railway bridge was blown up. They have now got a temporary one made, which they completed two days after we left.... On the other side we joined the Union Brigade; Colonel Hart (Barton), I think, is commander of it. We had two batteries of artillery with us, and some other brigade joined us next day, and we were supposed to be about 12,000 strong under General Sir A. Hunter. They do not tell you whether you are going to fight or on a day’s march, the regulars say; but we all expected one the day after we left, as we were advised to make any personal arrangements we had to make. Next day we moved off about 6.30. Nineteenth and 20th Companies were the scouts, and 17th and 18th the support. It is rather exciting the first day you are out scouting, with ninety cartridges in your bandolier and ten in your magazine, expecting to come in contact with the Boers every minute. Some of their patrols were seen two days before we left. On Wednesday morning we came in sight of Christiana, which we took in great style. We galloped half round it at half a mile distance in extended order, the Major and Captain C—— galloping up to houses, putting the butts of their rifles through the windows, and looking to see if the houses were occupied. There were very few people there; 2000 Boers had left the day before. However, we came across two or three, who were disarmed, and all the arms that were got in the town were broken up. We commandeered a lot of cattle, sheep, and horses, left a company of infantry in charge of the town, left again that night, and did about other six miles’ march towards Toungs. We saw about a hundred Boers two days later, but they did not let us get near them. We are the only cavalry attached to the column, so that we have to do all the scouting, front and rear guards. It is quite a sight to see a column on the march. First scouts are out in front advancing in line, about a hundred yards apart, then the supports, next a skirmishing line of infantry, then two or three companies of them. After this long lines of transports, the artillery, droves of cattle and sheep, then more infantry, and behind the rearguard. I have only washed once since I left Warrenton, now twelve days ago, and then I had no soap, and had to dry my face with my handkerchief. We had to leave all our stuff behind us so as to march as light as possible. These last two days we have been getting bread, as they have now got the railway put right up this length. We were only getting two hard biscuits per day, coffee in the morning and tea at night, pretty often without any sugar, and sometimes we couldn’t manage to get sticks to make a fire. The beer is 4s. per bottle. The Boers have commandeered everything nearly, and the folks here were glad to see us. The enemy cleared out of here fourteen days ago.”
Space does not admit of a detailed account of this excellent movement, which was originated in support of the Mafeking Relief Column, and had for a double object the protection of Mahon’s force and the invasion of the Transvaal from the west.
To appreciate the turn of wheel within wheel of Lord Roberts’s strategic machinery it is necessary to give a glance at the map of the Transvaal. It will then be seen that synchronously with the occupation of Christiana by General Sir Archibald Hunter on the 16th and the Relief of Mafeking by Colonels Mahon and Plumer, we find Lord Methuen moving towards Hoopstad, Lord Roberts holding Kroonstad, General Ian Hamilton pushing up towards Lindley and Heilbron, and farther east Generals Clery and Dundonald advancing towards Ingogo and Laing’s Nek respectively!
THE RELIEF.
To return to Mafeking. On the day that Colonel Mahon and Colonel Plumer joined hands near Jan Massibi’s thatched village, news leaked in that the long-talked-of relief was verily at hand. They had heard this kind of thing before, and their despair lest the Boers should attack the town to obtain the release of Eloff was scarcely allayed. However, on the 16th, dust was espied in the distance, and there was a rush to the roofs of the houses to ascertain whether that dust was hostile or friendly. It was afterwards discovered that it was the sign of the retiring enemy, and eventually towards dusk it was announced that the Relief Column was really in sight. The longing eyes of Mafeking looked out, and for the first time saw their persecutors in full retreat, saw them begin to run, and then, later, scudding for their lives, while their gratified ears, so tuned to the sound of the vicious artillery of the foe, now heard the cheery notes of the Canadian artillery, the pom-poms, and other pieces, clearing the barricades that for so long had shut out the free air of day. In the late afternoon Major Karri Davies, who after the routing of the Federals had never drawn rein till he reached Mafeking, accompanied by some eight of the Imperial Light Horse, the Light Horse that had been first in Ladysmith, marched into the town. Surprise was intense! Then surprise thawed into warmth, and then warmth grew to fever-heat. Rapture eventually reached boiling-point, and the nine men, gaunt, worn, haggard with fatigue, were deafened with cheers, and had not strength enough to do the handshaking.
Meanwhile, as we know, Colonel Mahon had outspanned. He did this only to inspan again, and proceed by moonlight to the town. He had followed the rule of South African strategy,—said he was going to do one thing and did the other,—thus outwitting the Boers, who having retired wearily, were gathering themselves up to lunge at him, and intercept his entry so soon as the dawn should break. But by four in the morning of the 17th, while the chill dramatic moonbeams were yet bathing the scene with strange mystery, Colonel Mahon and his merry men—they were merrier than merry at the prospect of their welcome—led by Major Baden-Powell, the brother of the hero of the defence, approached the town. The news of the arrival spread like wildfire. Immediately all was bustle, and bliss, and gratulation. Men, women, and children beamed. Some wept; some danced. The natives indulged in wild sounds, and showed rows of dazzling teeth. Exuberance took amazing forms; stranger wrung the hand of stranger, friends grasped and re-grasped: if they had been foreigners they would have embraced! The large hearts of the heroes within and the large hearts of the heroes from without were throbbing in unison, bursting with satisfaction in the accomplishment of great work in the cause of their country and of their fellow-men. The ragged, battered, grimy, magnificent throng was almost at a loss to express itself. Words lagged, and even those forthcoming were blurred by a foggy haze in the throat, while a strange mistiness crept over eyes that for seven months had been bright with the fire of determination. But withal, there was no emasculating abandonment to rapture of the hour. There was no unbuckling of armour. At nine the serious work of war began again. The united forces went out on a reconnaissance in the direction of MacMullin’s farm, where the chief Dutch laager was fixed, and then all the artillery, even to the grandfatherly “Lord Nelson,” performed in concert in honour of the great occasion. Cascades of shrapnel and little white balls of smoke danced and played over the laager, and bombs burst with violent detonations, and then, like magic, wreaths of dust began to rise and increase, and cloud the distance. It was the Dutchmen scampering for dear life across the veldt, their waggons and guns—all save one—rumbling into space. This one was abandoned in the hurried flight, the Boers having taken the precaution to destroy the breech, but it was nevertheless captured as a precious souvenir of times more pleasant in reminiscence than in being. The forts were visited in turn, and at Game-Tree—that dreadful thorn in the side of the garrison—the Union Jack went up to a chorus of cheers. Finally, the place was devoured by fire, to the satisfaction of those who had so long regarded it with apprehension and hate. At MacMullin’s farm were found the Boer wounded, deserted of their kind, who had scuttled with such alacrity that even their still smoking breakfasts had been foregone. Lieutenant Currie and his smart Cape Boys, and Major Baillie (4th Hussars), came on one or two stragglers in the Boer laager, who wisely surrendered. Snyman’s official correspondence was discovered, and from this much valuable information was gleaned. From one bundle of papers the garrison learned the pleasing intelligence that Kroonstadt had fallen; from another, that Kruger was not best pleased with the old Commandant—indeed, the President without palaver had inquired by telegram whether his failure of the previous Saturday had been due to drink! The rescue of Captain Maclaren (13th Hussars) from the clutches of the enemy caused great satisfaction, and he was borne off in triumph to the hospital, where he was comfortably located. He was suffering still from the wounds sustained during the fight on the 31st, one of which had been inflicted after he was helpless by a Dutchman, who deliberately fired on him at a distance of twenty yards, and subsequently robbed him of watch and money!
By noon the reconnaissance was at an end,—the place was found to be clear of the horrible girdle that for seven months had encompassed it,—and then the Market Square became a scene of unrestrained enthusiasm. The Town Guard got itself into position ready to do honour to the warriors who had come through fire and blood to release their fellow-countrymen, while every nook and corner of the broken hamlet was filled with excited, cheering folks—folks whose vocal cords seemed scarcely to have suffered from scant fare and unceasing vigils, and who yelled as though by sheer force of lung power they meant to swell their song of jubilation to the four corners of the earth!
THE LAST ATTACK ON MAFEKING: B.S.A. POLICE ESCORTING BOER PRISONERS TO THE GAOL
Drawing by H. M. Paget, from materials supplied by Major F. D. Baillie, Special Correspondent of the Morning Post.