At dawn, on the 4th of June, Colonel Henry came in touch with the enemy at Six-Mile Spruit. Report had hinted that the Boers could not decide to offer opposition to the entry of the troops, and it was hoped that no serious fighting was intended. But there was tough work to come. The enemy opened fire and forced the troops to take cover for a time; but, afterwards, holding their own, they pushed on in view of Schanzkop and Klapperkop, the forts which yet suggested horrible possibilities. The enemy was also ensconced in sangars on other ridges round about, and assiduously plied their magazines. Then followed an artillery contest between J Battery and the guns of the Dutchmen, while Ross’s Mounted Infantry, hastening to the left, secured a position from which another battery was enabled to join in the thunderous chorus.
No sooner was it found that Colonel Henry was definitely engaged, than General Ian Hamilton, who was somewhat west of the main army, was ordered to combine and assist the now warming operations—and presently his mounted troops had reinforced the advanced line, while the artillery of the main column came vigorously into play. A big gun from Schantz Fort sounded; a reply from the blue-jackets spat out. Lyddite burst over the feebly demonstrating Boers and damaged them, and showed them, that if they asked for it, there was more to come. At three, fifty guns threatened in concert—an argument that was well-nigh conclusive. Meanwhile up came the infantry, grandly steady in their advance. To right went the Guards’ Brigade over the blackboard prepared for them, while Stephenson’s Brigade, with Maxwell’s Brigade on its left, forged straight ahead. There were kindly boulders which presently covered them, and allowed them to open a warning fire with rifles and Maxims. The Boers by this knew what to expect. They knew that their hours in their commanding kops were numbered; they knew by this time that the bayonet’s gleam might follow, and then——
They had little time to consider. General Broadwood’s troopers were making for their right flank, debouching in the distant plain on the left, circling them round, menacing their retreat. Up the kopjes swarmed the infantry, away towards the enemy’s flank galloped the cavalry—bang and boom and boom roared the heavy artillery, addressing the forts that had seemed to play the cherubim to British advance. These were mute. The projectiles battered them or passed on into the town itself whence rifle fire burst out in fitful cascades, but resistance was no longer in the Dutchmen.... It was now growing dusk. Colonel de Lisle’s sprightly Australians, cutting across country, were chasing Boers and guns almost into the town, while the infantry with sunset, were occupying the coveted positions—were handling the key of Pretoria!
But the Australians, darkness or no darkness, were on the war-path—nothing could stop them. They captured the flying Maxim of the flying Dutchmen, pursued them till they were within rifle fire of the streets—the streets where scurrying and panic-stricken forms were to be seen like ants disturbed, running hither and thither. Then Colonel de Lisle, equal to the occasion, profited by the general dismay and the demoralisation to send in an officer under a flag of truce to demand the surrender of the town.
An account of this momentous episode was given by Lieutenant W. W. Russell Watson, a Sydney officer, who was the most prominent actor in the proceedings:—
“Colonel de Lisle came up, beaming with delight, and said, ‘Now, lad, you have done so well, are you fit to take the white flag into the city and demand the surrender of the city in the name of Lord Roberts and the British army?’ ‘Rather!’ said I. So we tied a handkerchief on to a whip, and after saying good-bye to Holmes and the others, I started for the Landdrost of the capital with the white flag in the air alone and unarmed.
“I had not gone far when I was stopped by an artilleryman, so requested him to take me into town. He did so; but the Landdrost (chief magistrate), the Burgomaster (mayor), the Commandant-General, were still fighting on the hills about the city, so the Secretary of State was found, and he conducted me to Commandant-General Botha’s private residence. He then telephoned to the Secretary for War, and they then despatched messages to their Generals to come at once to a council of war. First, General Botha himself came; then Generals Meyer and Walthusein and the military governors of the city. By this time I had been there two hours, during which time Mrs. Botha kindly gave me coffee and sandwiches, which, as I had not had a square meal for thirty-six hours, were most acceptable.
“Now came the discussion of the council. The General asked my mission, and this I told him with as much dignity as I could muster. He looked me up and down, and told me to be seated. They all spoke in Dutch, and some of the Generals were very excited. However, after an hour’s chat, they drew up a letter, and Botha informed me that if I would conduct the Governor of the city to Lord Roberts, terms and conditions would be arranged. So they all shook hands with me, and said that I ought to be pleased at meeting their greatest statesmen and Generals.
“Off I went with the Governor and General Walthusein to Colonel de Lisle, who was waiting on the outskirts of the city for my return. The Colonel then joined us, and away we went to Lord Roberts, who was six miles off; so we did not arrive until 10.45 P.M. He was in bed, so just sat up and said, ‘How do you do? If General Botha wishes to discuss with me the unconditional surrender of the town, I will meet him at Colonel de Lisle’s camp at 9 A.M. to-morrow. In the meantime, I will not fire a shot. Good-night!’”
So unconditional surrender it was, and that at the cost of little more than seventy killed and wounded.