On the 19th of October, a warm, close day, we marched about 13 miles to the drift at Tweefontein, two companies being rear guard with a gun and 250 cavalry, who were kept at a good reasonable distance away from the main body, so as to afford us some protection from snipers. Many farms were passed along the road, most of them being burned or blown up; we were now in a local centre of rebellion, this district not having been visited by our troops for some months, and the Boers having swarmed back in crowds in consequence: they used the farms to lodge in, and obtained from them food and information as to our movements.
We camped that night on the near side of the drift, and at early dawn the convoy started moving across and parking on the other side; it was to remain there whilst the remainder of the column went on to Bothaville.
The Buffs Militia, four companies of whom had accompanied us from Kroonstad, were also to remain, together with 40 men of ours and some of the Camerons, as well as one gun from the battery and all the cavalry details; naturally the men still suffering from the new boots were told to remain, and Lieut. Thorne was instructed to take charge of our men.
Bothaville was only 8 miles away, and we soon reached it, and camped on a grassy slope, to the east of the town, running down to the river, which, at this spot, passes through high banks; there were still a few English people in the town, and a Nursing Sister, but most of the residents had either gone or left only their wives and families to represent them.
It was quite a small town, but contained a very fine stone house, quite out of keeping with the remainder, built by the late Government for the use of the Dutch minister. These gentlemen usually seemed fairly comfortable in every town which we had visited, with good houses and gardens and no rent to pay. They were men of much influence; most of them threw in their lot with their parishioners and went with them on commando, for which they can hardly be blamed. The Nursing Sister was very pleased to see us; she had been left behind with a patient by our troops on their last visit, three months before, and had been unable to leave the town since. A good deal of private property (including the valuable telegraph instruments, out of the post office) was found stowed away in the church in the hope that our troops would not touch anything—nor did we.
Two days we halted in this little town, and we enjoyed the rest very much; there was capital bathing in the river, and Captain Gilbert, Lieut. Boevey, and one or two more spent most of their time trying to coax the fish out of the stream, with some success.
As the Boers were still in the neighbourhood, and the mounted troops were out all day destroying the farms of those burghers of whom a good account could not be given, the picket duty was rather hard. Captain Gilbert went out one pitch dark night with a few men to surround some farms close by, which were occupied by pseudo-loyalists, and to try and catch any visitors who might be staying the night; but after some bad walking, falling over ant-heaps and into holes, they returned in the early morning, having visited three farms and drawn blank in each case.
There was a shop in the town with the usual miscellaneous collection of articles, and I was told that such articles as would be of use to the men might be removed; so a party from each company went round to look over the stock, which, however, comprised nothing much worth having. There were a few things, such as writing paper, penny note books, some shovels and other tools, which were useful, and which the men were allowed to take away: but most of the stock consisted of medicines, ironmongery, and some cheap drapery.
I saw one hairy old reserve man going out with a small bundle under his arm, so I collared him and asked, "What's this?"
He stammered a bit, got confused, and finally said: "Well, Sir, it's—it's—its some calico!"