According to their slim tactics, and to find out the strength of the party most probably, the Boers now sent forward a man with a white flag, declaring by the messenger, that they had many men and guns, and that if the force refused to surrender they would be annihilated. But the Boers had got hold of the wrong man. The officer who had doggedly held firm in the blood-dyed donga at Colenso till the Dutchmen had threatened to murder the wounded unless he gave in, was not the man to surrender without a tussle. Colonel Bullock quickly sent the messenger and his white flag to the right about, and made preparations for stout resistance till help should arrive. But it was a sorry piece of “bluff.” They were gunless, the old muskets were of little use, and the black powder was objectionable, as it would have betrayed their positions and the smallness of the force. It was therefore necessary to tackle the Boers with extreme caution. “At first,” said an officer who was engaged, “they were only near the line to the north of us, covering the men who were destroying the culverts and telegraph lines, but they gradually worked round to the east, and about 8 or 8.30 down came the first shell—shrapnel—from about 2000 yards away. The train all this time was in the station, and I think they wanted to damage the engine, but their shooting wasn’t good enough. The engine went a little way up the line, but found it cut, and had to return. Shells were pretty frequent now, and bullets too numerous to be exactly pleasant, but Colonel Bullock and Major Hobbs, who was second in command, were walking about seeing to everything in the coolest possible way. No. 1 Company, under Captain Elmslie, of the Lancashire Fusiliers, had made some small trenches facing north, but when the Boers worked round to the east we were, of course, enfiladed, so we got into a ditch running along the side of the line north and south. They peppered us pretty well while we were getting there, but only one man was hit in the arm. Previous to this poor Major Hobbs, who, with the Colonel, had been sitting behind one of our small shelters which did not anything like cover them, was shot through the heart and killed.” (Major Hobbs, it may be remembered, was the gallant officer who was taken prisoner while tending a wounded man in the brilliant engagement at Willow Grange.) “Young Smith, of the Gloucesters, had been sent down the ditch near the line with seven men to try and get a bit nearer to the Boers who were damaging the culverts. They had rather a warm time, and Colonel Bullock sent Freeth, the adjutant, to bring them back. Poor Smith was shot through the groin, and the bullet went right through him. Two of his men were wounded and one killed out of the seven. Smith got back with Freeth’s help all right, and I found him afterwards sitting up in bed smoking cigarettes and as unconcerned as possible.”
A small tin house at the station was used as a hospital, and a Red Cross flag was improvised with difficulty. It was composed of a pillow-case with red bands made from strips of a Kaffir blanket discovered in the house. This was mounted on the shaft of an uptilted cart, but the Boers affected not to comprehend its meaning, and sent in a man under a white flag to ask an explanation. Here the wounded were tended by Mr. Cheatle who, by a stroke of luck, happened to occupy a saloon carriage in the “held up” train. There was no other doctor. This well-known surgeon who had gone out, con amore, as it were, with Sir William MacCormac, was on his way home, thinking his errand of mercy was over. He came quickly in action again, bringing his brilliant wits to meet a somewhat desperate situation. His bandages were made from ladies’ under garments found in a wardrobe, from the bed sheets in the train, and for antiseptic powder he had recourse to the carbolic tooth-powder in the possession of some of the officers. When this came to an end he utilised boiled rags, and persistently attended to the nerve-shaken wounded, who all the time were torn with bodily agony and horror-stricken by the continual howling of shells against walls and ground.
AUSTRALIAN BUSHMEN ON THE MARCH
Drawing by Allan Stewart, from details supplied by Surgeon Captain Watt, New Zealand Roughriders
Meanwhile the Boers plied their guns, shelling at the same time from north and east—an antiphonal duet of most appalling description. One shell broke through the saloon carriage, another buried itself in some bales of wool which luckily protected the verandah of the hospital. To this the only return that could be made was a persistent peppering with the ancient Martinis, a peppering which was carried on for several hours. The officers worked hard with their Mauser carbines. The one before quoted said he fired off fifty-five rounds, but did not know with what result, except that some Boers, exposing themselves on the sky line, very quickly got down flat on the grass after he had taken a “steady pot” at them at about 1400 yards’ distance. He went on to say: “The Boers must have known how we were armed, as it is quite against their custom to expose themselves at all. At last we saw some men coming over the hill to our right, and thought it was the relief force, but they turned out to be Boers in khaki, some of whom, I believe, had helmets, probably taken from the convoy they collared a week or two ago, somewhere in this neighbourhood.”
The telegram for help was despatched to Kroonstad about 7 A.M., but the reinforcements did not arrive till nearly 3.30 P.M. The Boers early became aware of their near approach, however, and began cautiously to remove their four guns, two of which—15-pounders—were part of their capture at Sanna’s Post. Meanwhile the small force, who had been straining every nerve and muscle for many hours, and meant to die in the last ditch rather than surrender, were anxiously looking towards the south for succour. Then, at last, the friendly scouts were seen coming over the hill. Oh! the relief of it! The welcome rumour of help gave energy to the men, who, after their long inactivity, had been suddenly thrown, vilely armed, into vigorous action, and were by now well-nigh exhausted. Away flew the hostile hordes, but not without having done a fair day’s work of destruction—line, telegraph, and culverts being wrecked, one officer and three men killed, and one officer and seventeen men wounded!
While this gang of Boers were worrying the Honing Spruit party, another had attacked the Shropshires and Canadians at Katbosh Camp, and thus deterred them from going to the assistance of their brothers in distress. But it was owing to the splendid fighting of the Canadians that the Dutchmen had found it impossible to close in round Honing Spruit, and the party at the railway station were enabled to hold out till the relieving force arrived. After the Boers left, the troops still remained in the trenches, and strengthened them as much as possible; but the Argyll and Sutherland Militia and some Mounted Infantry and a battery arrived from Kroonstad, and the battery shelled some kopjes three miles away, where the Boers—some 700 to 1000 of them, with three or four guns—were collecting. It was said that the Boer loss was six killed, and that they took away three waggons full of wounded, but this, of course, could not be verified.
Some circumstances attending the brilliant resistance of the Colonials are almost heroic. Lieutenant Inglis, with eight men of the Frontier Police on worn-out ponies, were sent from the Katbosh Camp to reconnoitre. They were suddenly surrounded by Boers, but fought furiously, with the result that they made their way through, with the loss of four, to an embankment which offered shelter. Fifty Boers then came within short range and fired on them. A response from the British remnant followed. There were presently only four of them, commanded by Corporal Morden, who, Lieutenant Inglis being disabled, took his place. Here, in the face of these terrible odds, the Corporal sent off Private Miles to inform Colonel Evans of his plight. The messenger executed his errand, and returned to assist his comrades. He was hit, but still persisted in “having a go at the enemy.” Then Corporal Morden dropped with a bullet through the brain. Miles, wet with his own gore—fainting—supported himself against a tussock and continued to direct the firing of his brother and Private Kerr. Eventually the Boers made off, but not before Kerr had been killed by a parting shot. Finally the relief party arrived, and carried the few remaining heroes back to camp. Among the day’s casualties were: Major H. T. de C. Hobbs, West Yorkshire Regiment, killed; Second Lieutenant H. H. Smith, 1st Gloucester Regiment, severely wounded; Lieutenant W. M. Inglis, 2nd Canadian Mounted Infantry, severely wounded. The total casualties amounted to thirty-one.
The programme of surprise parties, trapping of small forces, and abuse of the white flag, continued with little variety. Owing to the disposition of the British troops to east of the railway, and the scarcity of supplies and transport that militated against their mobility, the Boers were temporarily in the ascendant. It was no easy matter to have and to hold the arteries of the great army whose head was Pretoria, and yet to guard the railway lines and send reinforcements at a moment’s notice to points menaced by the agile commandos of the enemy, and consequently those who were responsible for the safety of the communications lived the life of Damocles—without that personage’s certainty of whence the fatal blow might be expected!
The maintenance of the safety of the line from Kroonstad to Pretoria was in the hands of General Smith-Dorrien, who placed at every post two companies with two or more guns. He himself eternally perambulated the line, now repairing, now mounting guns, now despatching patrols, in fact, playing with almost superhuman energy and vigilance the game of fox and geese—the fox De Wet, the geese the long tail of communications. In spite, however, of the surprising energy of the General, the dog fox—the wiliest reynard that ever challenged chase—redoubled his activities.