Chapter III: Sir Garnet Wolseley at Pretoria (2)

At six o'clock on the morning of the 28th the advance was sounded, and at 9.55 A.M. the guns began shelling the Nek. The Boers were not yet ready. Some took shelter behind the walls of Laing's Farmhouse, while others kept on the heights above, covered by the ridge from shells. Those in Laing's kraals had a warm time when the Naval Brigade began to play on them with their guns, and they soon evacuated the place.

Those on the Nek, after being for twenty minutes under a hot fire, were beginning to think they had had enough of it, when our lines ceased firing, and the mounted squadron advanced to take a hillock--the most advanced spur of the Boer left flank position. The 58th also prepared to charge. The officers commanding the mounted squadron were Major Brownlow and Captain Hornby, while Colonel Deane, Major Essex (an officer with a charmed life, who survived Isandlwana and the engagement at the Ingogo heights), Major Poole, Lieutenant Elwes, and Lieutenant Inman were in front of the 58th. The leading companies of the 58th having got half-way up the rise--a heavy business considering the slipperiness of the slopes--the first troop of the mounted squadron charged the kopje, going to right and left of the lines taken by the 58th. No sooner were they within sight of the Boers than they were greeted by a heavy fire that emptied half their saddles. Still, those who were left mounted, reformed in a pouring shower of bullets, and again charged.

But gallantry was of no avail, for there was no reserve to back up the charge of mounted troops. Seventeen men were killed and wounded, and thirty-two horses killed.

The repulse of this charge took place just as the 58th gained sight of the foe, who, flushed with triumph, could now turn their attention from the mounted troops to the right flank of the 58th. The men, worn out with their sufficiently arduous task of climbing, crushed together, in consequence of their not having been ordered to deploy before making the ascent, dropped like nine-pins under the heavy fire of the Boers. Before the order to deploy could be carried out, volley after volley was delivered into their ranks, and an enfilading fire was opened by the Boers on their right flank with disastrous results. Meanwhile the Boers were well under cover behind their sheltered trenches, and it was impossible, while the 58th were coming to closer quarters with them, to fire from the plains below without risk to the assailants. As a natural consequence, therefore, the Boers, skilled as they are in marksmanship, were able at their leisure to pick off each man as he approached.

Seeing that the Boers were more than a match for him, Colonel Deane resorted to the bayonet. But, just as the order was being obeyed his horse was shot under him. Rising again on the instant, and crying "I am all right," to encourage his men, he rushed on, heading his regiment, and again fell, this time mortally wounded. Major Hingeston, who then took command, fell also, and his gallant brother officers, Major Poole and Lieutenant Dolphin, shared the same fate. They were at that time within some thirty yards of the enemy. So great was our loss that the charge could not be sustained, and many officers, who still persisted in emptying their revolvers on the enemy, were severely wounded. At last there was nothing for it but to fall back. The Boers, intoxicated with victory, now boldly came out from cover, and poured volley after volley on the retiring men. But for the guns at the base of the hill, which were now able to play on the enemy, these must have been entirely swept away. So small was the margin between our men and the victors, that but for the nicety of this artillery practice many of the men of the 58th must have been accidentally killed. During the retreat Lieutenant Baillie, carrying the regimental colours, was mortally wounded. Such magnificent deeds of heroism took place on this occasion that of themselves they would form an inspiriting volume. Lieutenant Hill of the 58th earned the Victoria Cross by his repeated deeds of valour in saving soldiers under heavy fire.

The whole force fell back towards the camp, the casualties amongst the 58th being seventy-three killed and one hundred wounded. A flag of truce was sent forward to the enemy, and both parties engaged in the sad work of burying their dead and removing the wounded.

Report says that on this occasion Kaffirs or Hottentots were seen to be fighting among the Boer ranks.

Very pathetic and very manly was the speech addressed by Sir George Colley to the camp on the evening after the fight:--"Officers, non-commissioned officers, and men,--I have called you together this evening, being desirous of saying a few words to you. I wish every one present to understand that the entire blame of to-day's repulse rests entirely upon me, and not on any of you. I congratulate the 58th Regiment for the brave and noble manner in which they fought to-day. We have lost many gallant men, and amongst them my intimate friend, Colonel Deane. (Emotion.) I might say, however, that notwithstanding the loss of many troops to-day, we have not lost one atom of the prestige of England. It is my duty to congratulate Major Brownlow on the gallant charge he made this day. Owing to the loss we have suffered, I am compelled to await the arrival of reinforcements, but certainly we shall take possession of that hill eventually, and I sincerely hope that all those men who have so nobly done their duty to-day will be with me then. Good-night."

Of the mistakes that marked this attack it is unnecessary to write, for they have been freely discussed, and those who were responsible have laid down their lives in payment of whatever errors in judgment they may have committed.

INGOGO

Life in camp continued as usual until the 7th of February, when an escort proceeding with the post from Newcastle to the General's camp, having encountered the enemy, been fired at, and forced to return, Sir George Colley thought a demonstration in force would be sufficient to deter the Boers from further interference with the line of communication. Consequently the next morning, the 8th of February, he marched with five companies of the second battalion of the 60th Regiment, four guns and thirty-eight men of the Mounted Squadron. The force crossed the river Ingogo, then only knee-deep, and gained a plateau in shape like an inverted L, the base being the side nearest Newcastle. On arrival here an orderly suddenly reported that the enemy, concealed among boulders and large blocks of granite, was waiting in great force. Almost immediately afterwards about a hundred mounted Boers became visible on the right. The order was given to prepare for action, and, just as the guns were on the point of firing, the Boers wheeled round and went off. They galloped away to the bottom of the ravine, followed by a shell which, unfortunately, burst beyond them. The Rifles were also firing, but unsuccessfully, at the retreating riders. Soon it became apparent, however, that the British party was surrounded on all sides by the enemy, who were comfortably screened by the tall tambookie grass and the immense boulders that were to be found in clumps all round the position. Our men were also hiding behind rocks and boulders, and firing whenever a Boer head became visible. Soon after, the engagement opened in earnest. A hot fire was kept up by the 9-pounder in charge of Lieutenant Parsons, R.A., to which the enemy replied, directly the gun was discharged, by a hail of bullets aimed at the gunners while they reloaded.

In order to rout the Boers from their cover, an order was given to the mounted men to charge. At that moment the Boers fired a heavy volley, which incapacitated most of the horses and forced Major Brownlow to retire to the plateau. Fortunately only one of the men was wounded. The artillerymen now suffered considerably, having no shelter but the doubtful shelter of their guns, which afforded a convenient mark for the Boers. As soon as the General, who was going from point to point with his usual coolness, saw the state of affairs--ammunition and even gunners having run short--he sent to Mount Prospect camp for reinforcements. Still the fight continued. The Boers now steadily and surely crept to close quarters, while the British columns became momentarily thinner and thinner. Yet every man continued to hold his ground till hopelessly struck down. Hopelessly is a word used advisedly, for many who were struck down rose several times and continued to fire till mortally wounded.

Of the splendid gallantry of the force it is impossible to say enough. The fighting continued for six terrible hours through rain that fell literally in torrents, in an arena where wounded and dying lay thick, their despairing cries mingling with the continued growl of thunder interspersed with the roar of artillery. Then a white flag was displayed by the Boers. But, when the Rev. Mr. Ritchie in return displayed the British white flag, he was instantly fired upon. The object of the use of the white flag on the part of the Boers was to enable them to take advantage of the temporary inaction to make rushes to cover nearer to the British lines than that they had previously occupied! The fighting began, and, for the small body of British troops, continued disastrously. At last, when darkness came on, both sides were forced to cease firing. Now and then, only when a flash of lightning lit up the terrible scene, the firing of bullets demonstrated that the Boers were still thoroughly on the alert.

The darkness descended, and in the middle of the pouring rain and the murky obscurity the noble British dead were counted. The wounded were also tended as well as it was possible to tend them when water and restoratives were wanting, and the only relieving moisture had to be sucked from the storm-drenched grass. Finally, the General, viewing the deplorable state of the men, decided to withdraw the force from the field. It was plain that any renewal of attack on the morrow by the reinforced Boers could but mean annihilation or surrender. So the remnants of the force started on their return journey. This was now a terrible task, the Ingogo, which had been crossed at knee-depth, had swollen dangerously; the gentle stream had become a torrent. The bed of the river being full of holes, it was in some places some ten to twelve feet deep.

Of the perils by field and flood it would be impossible to speak at length. Mr. Carter, who was present at the melancholy fight and a witness of all connected with the reverse, gives in his wonderful narrative of the Boer war an interesting description of the misery of that return march:--

"Knowing that moments were precious in the then state of the river, I went ahead with the advance guard and crossed the stream; it was then nearly up to my armpits, and running very swiftly. By holding my rifle aloft, I managed to keep it dry, but every cartridge in my pockets was under water. Only with the greatest care, and thanks to a knowledge of the whereabouts of the treacherous hole in the drift, did I manage to keep on my legs. On gaining the opposite bank, I scooped up and drained off a helmetful of the precious fluid, and then urging on through the next ford--an insignificant one compared to the first--gained admission at Fermistone's hotel, after being duly cross-questioned through the keyhole of the door. Some hot tea and whisky was recommended by the host, and palatable it was. In a short time the other "Correspondent" arrived, _minus_ his rifle. He had been carried down the stream like a cork, and only saved from drowning by being washed against some reeds at a bend of the river. He decided that he had had enough of the march for that night, and elected to go to bed. Next came in the General, and a gentleman who claimed to be a surgeon (a Transvaal surgeon) escaped from the Boer lines. He had been allowed free access to the camp at Mount Prospect, and had accompanied the Ingogo expedition, but not as a surgeon. From the General I learnt that there had been some men washed down the stream in spite of the precaution adopted of joining hands."

The return to camp was still more trying. The roads were slippery as glass, and men and horses, thoroughly worn out, dropped exhausted by the way. But it is needless to dwell on this melancholy event--an event rendered so much more melancholy by regret for sublime effort wasted in the support of a Government that was at that very moment entertaining the proposals for craven surrender.

MAJUBA

On Sunday, the 27th of February, Sir George Colley made his last move. During the afternoon of the previous day the General, who was a great theorist, had been cogitating some scheme which he only communicated to Colonel Stewart, and to one or two others. No sooner had "lights out" been sounded, than an order was passed round for detachments of the 58th, third battalion of the 60th Rifles, Naval Brigade, and Highlanders, to parade with three days' rations. Then the order came that the force was to form up by the redoubt nearest the main road on their left. At ten a start was made, the General and staff riding in front, with the 58th leading, followed by the 60th, and the Naval Brigade in the rear. The direction taken was straight up the Inguela Mountain. Arrived on a plateau about half-way up, the troops proceeded by a path, narrow almost as a sheep path, which winds across the steepest part of the mountain. Great boulders edged the hillside, and masses of rock hung perpendicularly above the surface of the ground. One false step and the climber would have been hurled down some thirty feet, to be dashed to pieces against the stones, or entangled in the bush. This march was conducted in strict silence, no voice being raised, and indeed not a breath more than was required for climbing expended. Men and officers, all were bent on the one great feat of mounting and gaining the summit. The march continued over loose stones, and boulders and obstacles multifarious--sometimes round wrong tracks, owing to mistakes of the guide, and sometimes over grass and glassy slopes, where a man could make progress merely by means of hands and knees. Thus the force stealthily ascended, creeping up in ones and twos, the General and staff leading the way in ever-increasing darkness and silence.

So heavy was the work of ascent that, when at last they reached the top, the troops almost dropped from exhaustion. It was this exhaustion that is said by some to have influenced the General's plans, but others declare that he was not likely so to be influenced. Instead of attempting at once to throw up a rough entrenchment, he refused to permit it, declaring that the men were already over fatigued. A slight entrenchment might have made all the difference in the sad history of Majuba, but the General gave no orders to entrench, and thus the troops were left open to the enemy.

At early dawn, on looking towards the Nek, it was obvious that a large Boer force was there congregated, while at the base of the mountain was the right flank of the Dutch camp. Gazing down from the great height which had been so perseveringly gained, all hearts warmed with a glow of triumph and of anticipation. The rocket tubes and Gatlings would soon arrive, and then those below would be awakened to the tune of the guns! From their point of vantage it seemed as though the British had the Boers at their mercy.

The hilltop of Majuba was hollowed out basinwise, and there seemed only a necessity to line the rim of it in the event of a rush from the enemy. But the suspicion that the Boers would creep from ridge to ridge, and mount the crest, never dawned on any one. In the dense darkness it was impossible to become acquainted with the nature of all sides of the hill, and the troops imagined them all to be equally impregnable.

Mr. Carter, who was there, says that at this time some twenty Highlanders stood on the ridge watching the lights of the enemy, and pointing to the camp below them, and laughingly repeating their challenge, "Come up here, you beggars." They never imagined it would be possible for them indeed to come! He further states his belief that the reason why no entrenchments were attempted was that every staff officer on Majuba felt certain "that the Boers would never face the hill--entrenchments or no entrenchments on the summit--as long as the British soldier was there." For this almost fatuous belief in their own security these gallant soldiers were destined to pay heavily.

So soon as daylight served to show our troops standing against the sky-line, the enemy began to advance at the base of the mountain. The first shot on that eventful day was fired at a Boer scout by Lieutenant Lucy of the 58th, but the General, hearing it, sent word to "stop that firing." Silence again reigned. But in the meantime the Boers were crawling cautiously up the hill after leaving their horses safely under cover. About 6 A.M. they opened a steady fire, to which the British troops responded cordially. The Boer bullets, though doubling those of the British, did little damage, as the troops were partially sheltered within the basin of the hilltop. Thus the fight continued till nine, none of the officers at that time even suspecting that the enemy would venture to "rush" their stronghold. No one was wounded, and nothing was to be seen on any side of the hill, as the Boers kept closely under cover. At this juncture many men, worn out and fatigued, laid themselves down to sleep. Suddenly Lieutenant Lucy appeared asking for reinforcements, and saying that the fire was "warming up" in his direction. Some minutes later the General, who was perpetually moving round the line, cool, collected, and calculating as ever, flashed a message to Mount Prospect camp, ordering the 60th Rifles to be sent from Newcastle to his support.

Later the General espied two Boers within 600 yards or so of him mounting the ravine, and pointed them out. He had scarcely done this when Commander Romilly fell. This gallant sailor was deservedly popular, and gloom suddenly spread over the hitherto cheerful force. Still, no one dreamed that the Boers would really get to close quarters. The first awakening came when the firing, which had been till then in single shots, poured upwards in volleys. From the sound it was evident that the enemy was much nearer than had been supposed. The Highlanders, who were facing this unexpected fusillade, were soon reinforced by the reserves which had been ordered to their assistance.

The 58th, 92nd, and Naval Brigade disappeared over the ridge to meet the enemy, and vigorously returned their fire. For one moment that of the Boers appeared to slacken; then suddenly there came a precipitate retreat of our men, the officers shouting, "Rally on the right! rally on the right!" This order was obeyed, the troops describing a semicircle and coming back to the ridge to a point at left of that from which they had been so suddenly driven. But the momentary retreat had been demoralising. At this standpoint the men had become hopelessly mixed up--sailors, Highlanders, and 58th men all in a wild melee. Over this heterogeneous mass the officers had lost their personal influence. While order was being restored the Boer firing ceased. The pause was just sufficient to allow breathing time, for they almost instantaneously reopened with redoubled vigour. Their shooting was scarcely successful, but a hail of lead from the upturned muzzles of rifles continued to traverse the thirty yards which now separated the foes. The enemy numbered only about 200, but they hoped by rapidity of fire to hold the British in check till their comrades should come to the rescue. Mr. Carter thus graphically describes what was really the last despairing effort of our men:--

"The order was given in our lines, 'Fix bayonets,' and immediately the steel rang from the scabbard of every man, and flashed in the bright sunlight the next second on the muzzle of every rifle. 'That's right!' cheerily called Major Fraser. 'Now, men of the 92nd, don't forget your bayonets!' he added, with marked emphasis on the word bayonets. It was the bayonet or nothing now, and the officer's words sent quite a pleasant thrill through all. Colonel Stewart immediately added, 'And the men of the 58th!' 'And the Naval Brigade!' sang out another officer, Captain MacGregor, I think. 'Show them the cold steel, men! that will check them,' continued Fraser, whilst volley after volley came pouring in, and volley after volley went in the direction of the enemy. But why this delay? The time we were at this point I cannot judge, except by personally recalling incidents in succession. When the bayonets rang into the rifle-sockets simultaneously with the reopening of the Boers' volleys, I felt convinced that in two minutes that murderous fire would be silenced, and our men driving the foe helter-skelter down hill. After the bayonets had been drawn and fixed, and remained fixed, our men still firing for at least four or five minutes, and no order came to 'charge,' I changed my opinion suddenly."

Here we may imagine the agony--hope, doubt, suspense--that passed like a lightning flash through the minds of all who were present.

The uproar at this time grew appalling. Commands of the officers, the crash of shot, the shrieks of the wounded, all helped to aggravate the din. Boers were fast climbing the mountain sides, and the troops, worn out and almost expended, were beginning to lose the spirit of discipline that hitherto had sustained them. The officers stepped forward boldly, sword in one hand and revolver in the other, but to no purpose. Only an insignificant number of men now responded to the command.

Drawn by R. Caton Woodville, from Notes supplied by Officers present.

The officer to the left, with the glass in his hand, is General Colley, who, to facilitate his ascent of the hill, took off his boots, and, during the engagement, wore only socks and slippers. He, with others, is urging the soldiers to maintain their position. The Highlander with the bandage on his face was wounded, but bravely continued to fight. The Highlander on the right, apparently asleep, was shot dead while taking aim. The officer in the immediate foreground towards the right, to whom the doctor is offering a flask, is Major L. C. Singleton, of the 92nd Gordon Highlanders, who died of his wounds. The figure pressing forward on the extreme left of the picture is the Special Correspondent of the _Standard_ newspaper.]

Mr. Carter declares that when Lieutenant Hamilton of the 92nd asked Sir George Colley's permission to charge with the bayonet, he replied, "Wait a while." Such humanity was almost inhumanity, for waiting placed at stake many lives that might have been saved. The correspondent says:--

"Evidently Sir George Colley allowed his feelings of humanity to stand in the way of the request of the young officer. We were forty yards at the farthest from the enemy's main attacking party. In traversing these forty yards our men would have been terribly mauled, no doubt, by the first volley, but the ground sloped gently to the edge of the terrace along which the enemy were lying, and the intervening space would be covered in twenty seconds--at all events, so rapidly by the survivors of the first volley, that the Boers, mostly armed with the Westley-Richards cap rifle, would not have had time to reload before our men were on them. I am not sure that the first rush of the infantry would not have demoralised the enemy, and that their volley would have been less destructive than some imagined. If only a score of our men had thrust home, the enemy must have been routed. At a close-quarter conflict, what use would their empty rifles have been against the bayonets of our men, who would have had the additional advantage of the higher ground? If the bayonet charge was impracticable at that moment, then, as an offensive weapon, the bayonet is a useless one, and the sooner it is discarded as unnecessary lumber to a soldier's equipment the better. It was our last chance now, though a desperate one, because these withering volleys were laying our men prostrate; slowly in comparison with the number of shots fired, but surely, despite our shelter. Some out of the hail of bullets found exposed victims. In a few seconds our left flank, now practically undefended, and perfectly open to the Boers scaling the side of the mountain in that direction, would be attacked with the same fury as our front.

"Looking to the spot Cameron had indicated as the one where the General stood, I saw his Excellency standing within ten paces directing some men to extend to the right. It was the last time I saw him alive."

It is unnecessary to dwell further on the tragic events of that unlucky battle. After midday our troops retreated, and the retreat soon became a rout. At this time Sir George Colley was shot. Dismay seized all hearts, followed by panic. The British soldiers rushed helter-skelter down the precipitous steeps they had so cheerfully climbed the night before, many of them losing their lives in their efforts to escape from the ceaseless fire of the now triumphant enemy.

ROUGH CAIRN OF STONES ON MAJUBA HILL.

Photo by Wilson, Aberdeen.]

Before leaving this sad subject, it may be interesting to note a Boer account of the day's doings which is related by Mr. Rider Haggard in his useful book on "The Last Boer War":--

"A couple of months after the storming of Majuba, I, together with a friend, had a conversation with a Boer, a volunteer from the Free State in the late war, and one of the detachment that stormed Majuba, who gave us a circumstantial account of the attack with the greatest willingness. He said that when it was discovered that the English had possession of the mountain, he thought that the game was up, but after a while bolder counsels prevailed, and volunteers were called for to storm the hill. Only seventy men could be found to perform the duty, of whom he was one. They started up the mountain in fear and trembling, but soon found that every shot passed over their heads, and went on with greater boldness. Only three men, he declared, were hit on the Boer side; one was killed, one was hit in the arm, and he himself was the third, getting his face grazed by a bullet, of which he showed us the scar. He stated that the first to reach the top ridge was a boy of twelve, and that as soon as the troops saw them they fled, when, he said, he paid them out for having nearly killed him, knocking them over one after another 'like bucks' as they ran down the hill, adding that it was 'alter lecker' (very nice)."

A complete and reliable narrative of affairs on that fateful day in the ridge below Majuba was given in the _Army and Navy Gazette_. It is here reproduced, as it shows the finale from the point of view of an eye-witness of one of the most lamentable fights known in British history. The correspondent says:--

"As our mysterious march on the night of the 26th February began,
two companies of the 60th Rifles, under the command of Captains C.
H. Smith and R. Henley, were detached from General Colley's small
column, and left on the Imquela Mountain. These companies received
_no orders_, beyond that they were to remain there. The rest of the
column then marched into the dark night on their unknown mission,
our destination being guessed at, but not announced. The road was
rough, and at some places little better than a beaten track, and
the men found it hard to pick their steps among the loose stones
and earth mounds. But all were cheerful and ready for their work.
The ridge at the foot of the heights was reached at about midnight,
and here the column made a brief halt, to allow of one company of
the 92nd (which had lost its touch) coming up. Here one company of
the 92nd Highlanders, under Captain P. F. Robertson, was detailed
to proceed with Major Fraser, R.E., to a spot about one hundred
yards distant, General Colley himself giving the order that they
were to remain there, 'to dig as good a trench as time would permit
of,' and further to select a good position to afford cover for the
horses and ammunition, &c., that were to be left in charge of the
detachment. They were also desired to throw out sentries in the
direction of the camp, also a patrol of four men, with a
non-commissioned officer, to watch the beaten track along which we
had just come, and to act as guides for a company of the 60th
Rifles expected from camp to reinforce the Highlanders on the
ridge. These orders having been given, the column again moved off,
leaving the Highlanders to make their arrangements.

"The men had a brief rest after their walk, and then, assisted by
their officers--Captain P. F. Robertson and Lieutenant G.
Staunton--began the work of making their entrenchments. At about 5
A.M. the expected company of the 60th Rifles arrived, under the
command of Captain E. Thurlow and Second Lieutenants C. B. Pigott
and H. G. L. Howard. Surgeon-Major Cornish also accompanied this
detachment, with some mules laden with hospital requirements.
Captain Thurlow, who had received _no orders_, and who had brought
out his men without either their greatcoats or their rations,
joined the Highlanders in their entrenchments. They had to work
hard, so as to complete their work rapidly, and consequently the
men had little or no rest that night. At about 6 A.M. we were
visited by Commissariat-General J. W. Elmes, who was returning to
the camp, and promised to send out the 60th their rations. Shortly
afterwards a conductor named Field arrived with a led mule, laden
with stores, &c., for the staff. He was hurrying on to try and
reach the summit of the hill before day. Doubts were expressed as
to the advisability of his going on alone; but he had his orders,
he said (about the only man who had that day!), and so he went on
his way. About an hour afterwards a shot was heard, and we
afterwards learnt that the conductor had been wounded, and he and
his mule taken prisoners! By this time the day had quite broken,
the heavy curtain of the night had rolled away, and disclosed
before us the rugged and precipitous ascent to the Majuba Mountain,
which stood directly in front of us, about 1400 yards distant. It
stood out in bold relief against a blue-grey sky, and on the
summit, and against the sky, the figures of men could be distinctly
seen passing to and fro. These were only discernible with the aid
of field-glasses, and at that time no great certainty was felt as
to their being our own men.

"Away to the south of us, in the direction of the camp, sloped the
Imquela Mountain. The glasses were brought to bear on this spot
also, where a man was detected signalling with a flag. The officer
commanding our party (Captain Robertson, 92nd) then signalled the
question, 'Who are you?' and the answer returned was, 'We are two
companies of the 60th Rifles, who have been left here all night.' A
second message was then sent, asking what their orders were, and
the reply returned was, 'None.' Their position was consequently
much the same as ours. All the morning our sentries heard
occasional shots, and from time to time were seen small bodies of
mounted Boers galloping to and fro near our entrenchments,
seemingly to reconnoitre our position. At about eleven o'clock we
were joined by a troop of the 15th Hussars, who had just come from
the camp, bringing with them the rations for the 60th Rifles. This
troop was commanded by Captain G. D. F. Sulivan, and accompanied by
Second Lieutenant Pocklington and Lieutenant H. C. Hopkins, 9th
Lancers, attached. Captain Sulivan, having received no orders,
remained with our party, dismounting his men, and placing them
under cover on the slope, just in rear of our entrenchment. For an
hour or two afterwards all remained perfectly quiet. The distant
figures on the summit of the Majuba Hill could still be seen
passing and repassing against the grey sky. We had come to the
definite conclusion that they were our own men, entrenching
themselves on the top of the mountain. They had gained by strategy
a strong position; but could they hold it? Even then the question
was mooted. All at once, while we were quietly waiting, a
continuous and heavy firing broke out on the mountain. We saw the
blue smoke rolling across the still sky; we saw an evident stir and
excitement among the party on the hill. What was it? Were they
attacked, or attacking? Volley after volley rolled forth; it was a
heavy and continuous fire, never ceasing for a moment. All glasses
were brought to bear on the mountain, and every eye was strained to
catch a sight of what was going on. After a few minutes the figure
of a man hurrying down towards us was visible--a wounded man, no
doubt--and a mounted Hussar was sent out to bring him in. He proved
to be a wounded man of the 58th, and from him we learnt something
of the disaster which had befallen our column. The General was
dead, lying on his back, with a bullet through his head. Our men
were nearly all either wounded or taken prisoners. The hilltop was
covered with the bodies of the brave fellows, who had fought to the
last. Even while he spoke we could see the desperate retreat had
begun, and a few desperate figures were seen struggling down among
the stones and boulders. Our men were flying, there was no doubt
about that now. In a few minutes the enemy would be upon us, but we
were prepared for them. I never saw men steadier or more prepared
to fight, although, as I glanced round, I felt how hopeless such a
fight would be. My fear, however, did not seem to be participated
in by either officers or men, for Captain Robertson (the officer in
command) at once began his preparation for a determined resistance.
The ammunition boxes were opened, and placed at equal convenient
distances all round the entrenchment. Half the entrenchment was
manned by the Highlanders, and the other half by Rifles. These
preparations were quietly and promptly made. The men were silent,
but steady. Looking round, every face was set with a grave
determination 'to do,' and there was not a word audible as the
orders were spoken and the commands obeyed. The low (and to an
experienced eye) fragile turf walls that were to offer shelter
seemed but poor defences, now that they were to be tried. They were
only about four feet high by two feet thick, with one exit at the
rear, and could never have stood before a fire such as was even now
pouring down the slope of Majuba. The wounded were now being
brought in rapidly by our mounted Hussars, who did their work
steadily. Some of the poor fellows were terribly wounded, and
though Surgeon-Major Cornish did his best for them unassisted, many
had to lie unattended to in their suffering. All brought the same
bitter news of defeat and annihilation, not very reassuring to our
little force, which was now about to take its part in the day's
engagement. As suddenly as it began, the firing as suddenly ceased;
and we knew that the dreadful task of clearing the heights was
done, and our resistance about to begin. We could see the Boers
clustering like a swarm of bees at the edge of our ridge. Every
moment we expected a rush and an attack. But they hesitated. They
were waiting--waiting for the party of some 600 or 700 mounted
Boers, who presently appeared upon our left flank. Our entrenchment
was now almost surrounded. The mounted Boers were the first to
attack us on our left flank, and their fire was spiritedly replied
to by the Rifles. At this moment, and while we were actually
engaging our enemy, the order came from the camp desiring Captain
Robertson to retreat his force without delay. No such easy matter
now, for the order came almost too late; the Boers were within easy
range of us, and determined to attack. Nevertheless, in the same
orderly and steady manner in which the preparations for defence had
been made, the preparations for retreat were begun. Much credit is
due to Captains Robertson and Thurlow for the energetic manner in
which they helped to load the mules, securing a safe retreat for
the ammunition and stores, and then assisting Surgeon-Major Cornish
to get off the wounded. All this time we were under fire, and it
was while retreating that poor Cornish was killed. When our little
entrenchment had been cleared of its stores, the real retreat
began, made under a murderous fire, which followed us as we hurried
down the steep slope into the ravine below. Captain Sulivan, with
his troop of Hussars, was placed on the right flank to try and
cover the retreat in that direction. By this time the Boers had
partially occupied our entrenchment, having broken down its
defences easily enough. And we had scarcely retreated down the
steep slope and into the ravine before they occupied the ridge
above us in hundreds, sending volley after volley after our
retreating men. It was a case now of _sauve qui peut_, and to me
the only marvel is how we lost so few under the circumstances. Our
casualties were four killed (including Surgeon-Major Cornish),
eleven wounded, and twenty-two prisoners. The Highlanders suffered
the most. The officers were the last to leave the ridge. I saw
Captain Robertson standing on the crest of the slope giving some
final directions just a moment before the ridge was entirely
covered by the Boers, and his escape consequently was almost a
miraculous one. I was in the ravine before I heard our artillery
open fire upon the Boers. Second-Lieutenant Staunton, 92nd
Highlanders, was taken prisoner. We were never joined by the two
companies of the Rifles who were left on the Imquela Mountain the
night before, nor did I see them under fire at any part of the day.
Thus ended our brief battle, and only those who took part in it can
tell the bitterness of having to retreat, utterly routed and
defeated as we were."

THE SIEGE OF PRETORIA

As may be remembered, Sir Owen Lanyon's proclamation announcing martial law was read, and the town handed over to the military government. Colonel Gildea (introduced by Colonel Bellairs) acted as Commandant of the Garrison, Major F. Mesurier, R.E., was in charge of the Infantry Volunteers, and Captain Campbell, 94th Regiment, filled the post of Provost-Marshal. Sympathisers with the Boers were ordered to leave the place on pain of being handed over to the Provost-Marshal to be dealt with by military law.

It was decided to evacuate the town, and form two laagers, one at the camp, and one between the Roman Catholic church and the jail. In the camp the women and children were to be placed, while the Infantry Volunteers garrisoned the convent laager. Within the convent, women and children were packed tightly as sardines, while the nuns turned out on errands of mercy. All night and all day, scarcely stopping to eat a mouthful, men worked, sandbagging windows and doors--building barricades and defences of various kinds. Waggons were sent round to gather all families within the shelter of the camp. Rich and poor, good and bad, some 4000 souls, were herded together in tents for their protection. Here they remained for three months, enduring hardships of the most variegated and worrying kind, and loyally waiting for the relieving column that never came.

Descriptions of the rations served out to each man daily are not appetising: Bread, 1-1/4 lb., or biscuit, 1 lb.; coffee, 2/3 oz.; sugar, 2-1/2 oz.; meat, 1-1/4 lb.; tea, 1/6 oz.; and salt, 1/2 oz. These were reduced as the siege proceeded. The meat was _trek_ beef, a leathery substitute for steak, and the biscuits were veterans, having "served" in the Zulu and Sekukuni campaigns, and now being nothing better than a swarm of weevils. Life in Pretoria was enlivened by occasional sorties against the Boer laagers, where the enemy was supposed to number some 800 strong. The laagers were distributed at distances of four and eight miles from the town, and were connected by a system of patrolling, which rendered communication from within or without almost impossible. A few messengers (natives) occasionally came into the town, but these were mostly charged with the delivery of delusive messages invented for special purposes by the Boers. There was an ever-present difficulty--that of keeping the natives in check. Many examples of Boer cruelty to these poor blacks are recorded, and they naturally shuddered at the prospect of once more being delivered over to the rule of the sjambok.

Mr. H. Shepstone, the Secretary for native affairs, took immense pains to keep things quiet among the various chiefs. He said he had but to lift his little finger, and the Boers would not hold the field for a couple of days. Almost every native he knew would be in arms, and by sheer weight of numbers would overpower the Boers. Several of the chiefs sheltered refugees, and Montsiwe gathered his force in the hope that he would be allowed to come to the relief of Potchefstroom. Government reports regarding the loyalty of the natives were numerous, and the natives' longing to come to the assistance of the British in fighting their ancient oppressors was obvious. The subsequent desertion of these people whom Great Britain had taken under her wing, is one of the most grievous of the many grievous things that accrued from the exercise of British "magnanimity." Sir Morrison Barlow and Sir Evelyn Wood both agreed that the natives were "British to a man!" They were thoroughly sick of Boer cruelty, and the Kaffirs and Basutos had learnt to look to Great Britain for a reign of peace. Rather than again be ruled by the Boer despots, they were ready to spill the last drop of their blood, and only the high principled, almost quixotic action of the British officials prevented the utilisation in extremity of this massive and effective weapon of defence. Besides the garrison in Pretoria there were other forts defended by soldiers and loyalists, forts which were none of them taken by the enemy. These were Potchefstroom, Rustenburg, Sydenburg, Marabastad, and Wakkerstroom. The fort of Potchefstroom was surrendered during the armistice by fraudulent representations on the part of the Boers.

The absorbing topic of the time was naturally the future of the Transvaal. Hope warmed all hearts and helped every one to keep up a fictitious air of cheerfulness. All thought that the rebellion would serve to strengthen the British in their determination to establish an effectual Government in the country and promote an enduring peace. The suspicion that the territory would be given back would have come on these hoping, waiting, and longing sufferers like a blast from the pole. Fortunately it was not given to them to foresee the humiliating end of their staunch endurance. Anathemas long and deep were sounded at the mention of Dr. Jorissen, who was looked upon as the fuse which set alight the rebellious temper of the Boers.

Photo by Maull & Fox, London.]

The enemy, however, never directly attacked the town. They contented themselves with attempting to steal cattle and skirmishing, and generally harassing those within. Such fights as these were mainly due to British initiative, and these were not fraught with success to us. Of this period it is pitiful to write. British valour and endurance were exhibited to the uttermost, and many gallant actions at different sorties might be recorded. So also might be given, did space allow, many instances of Boer cunning and Boer treachery--notably the acts of firing on the flag of truce, and on ambulance waggons. There can be no doubt that the firing on the flag of truce by the Boers was intentional. Their own explanation of the cause of this uncivilised proceeding may be taken for what it is worth. It appears that their troops were divided in opinion--that one party wished to continue fighting while another wished to surrender. Hence the exhibition of double-dealing which had so confounding an effect on their enemies, and so convenient a one for themselves. The Boers on the Majuba Hill fired on a flag of truce, the attack at Bronker's Spruit was made under cover of the white flag, and delay at Ingogo, to cover their movement from shelter, was gained by means of the same vile expedient.

When the news of the British reverses at Laing's Nek and Majuba reached Pretoria there was general consternation. But, as yet, none knew of the crushing blow that was still in store. On the 28th, 102 days after the hoisting of the Republican flag at Heidelberg, there came the almost incredible news that a peace had been concluded involving the surrender of the Transvaal to the Boers. At first it seemed impossible that the British Government could have consented to leave its loyal supporters in the terrible position in which they now found themselves. All who had sat patiently through trouble and trial, working with might and main, suffering from endless ills, in peril of their lives, and deprived of property and home, now joined in one heartrending wail of woe and disappointment. The consternation that followed the announcement of the ignoble surrender is thus described by Mr. Nixon, who was an eye-witness and sharer of the general grief and humiliation:--

"The scene which ensued baffles description. The men hoisted the colours half-mast high. The Union Jack was pulled down and dragged through the mud. The distinctive ribbons worn round the hats of the men as badges were pulled off and trampled underfoot. I saw men crying like children with shame and despair. Some went raving up and down that they were Englishmen no longer; others, with flushed and indignant faces, sat contemplating their impending ruin, 'refusing to be comforted.' It was a painful, distressing, and humiliating scene, and such as I hope never to witness again. While I write, the remembrance of it comes vividly before me; and as I recall to mind the weeping men and women, the infuriated volunteers, and the despairing farmers and storekeepers, half crazy with the sense of wounded national honour, and the prospect of loss and ruin before them, my blood boils within me, and I cannot trust myself to commit to paper what I think. The lapse of two years has but deepened the feeling which I then experienced. The subject may perhaps be only unpleasant to people at home, but to me personally, who have seen the ruin and dismay brought upon the too credulous loyalists, the recollections it stirs up are more bitterly mortifying than words can describe."

Mr. Rider Haggard, who at this time was at Newcastle, has also recorded his experiences on the unhappy occasion. He says:--"Every hotel and bar was crowded with refugees who were trying to relieve their feelings by cursing the name of Gladstone with a vigour, originality, and earnestness that I have never heard equalled; and declaring in ironical terms how proud they were to be citizens of England--a country that always kept its word. Then they set to work with many demonstrations of contempt to burn the effigy of the right honourable gentleman at the head of her Majesty's Government, an example, by the way, that was followed throughout South Africa." Talking of the loyal inhabitants in the Transvaal on whom the news burst 'like a thunderbolt,' he explains that they did not say much--because there was nothing to be said! They simply packed up their portable goods and chattels, and made haste to leave the country, "which they well knew would henceforth be utterly untenable for Englishmen and English sympathisers." Here was another great trek--a pathetic exodus of British loyalists whom Great Britain had betrayed. Away they went, these poor believing and deceived people, to try and make new homes and new fortunes, for as soon as the Queen's sovereignty was withdrawn houses and land were not worth a song, and their chances of earning a living were now entirely over, on account of their mistaken loyalty.

The condition of the town is thus described in a journal of the period:--

"The streets grown over with rank vegetation; the water-furrows unclean and unattended, emitting offensive and unhealthy stenches; the houses showing evident signs of dilapidation and decay; the side paths, in many places, dangerous to pedestrians--in fact, everything the eye can rest upon indicates the downfall which has overtaken this once prosperous city. The visitor can, if he be so minded, betake himself to the outskirts and suburbs, where he will perceive the same sad evidences of neglect, public grounds unattended, roads uncared for, mills and other public works crumbling into ruin. These palpable signs of decay most strongly impress him. A blight seems to have come over this lately fair and prosperous town. Rapidly it is becoming a 'deserted village,' a 'city of the dead.'"

RETROCESSION

The Government, through the medium of the Queen's Speech, had announced its intention of vindicating her Majesty's authority in the Transvaal. This was in January 1881. About that time President Brand, of the Orange Free State, formed himself into a species of Board of Arbitration between the contending parties--Boers and British. The reason for this intervention was threefold--first, he genuinely desired to avoid further bloodshed; second, he as genuinely hoped, under a mask of neutrality, to advance the Dutch cause throughout South Africa; and third, he amicably wished to put himself in the good graces of the British Government. Prior to General Colley's death Mr. Brand had urged him to allow peace to be made, and to guarantee the Boers not being treated as rebels if they submitted. General Colley was no quibbler with words. He would give no such assurance. He proposed, in a telegram to the Colonial Secretary, to publish an amnesty on entering the Transvaal to all peaceable persons--excepting one or two prominent rebels. On the 8th of February (the day of the battle of the Ingogo), a telegram was received from home, promising a settlement upon the Boers ceasing from armed opposition. This showed that the Government had early begun to put their foot on the first rung of the ladder of disgrace--it can be called by no other term--and that the "climb-down" policy was already coming into practice. An unfortunate game at cross-purposes seems to have been going on, for Mr. Brand was proposing to Lord Kimberley that Sir H. de Villiers--the Chief-Justice of the Cape, should be appointed as Commissioner to go to the Transvaal to arrange matters, while at the same time Sir George Colley was telegraphing a plan to be adopted on entering the Transvaal, a plan which should grant a complete amnesty only to Boers who would sign a declaration of loyalty.

Lord Kimberley welcomed the suggestion of Mr. Brand, and agreed, if only the Boers would disperse, to appoint a Commission with power to "develop the permanent friendly scheme"; and "that, if this proposal is accepted, you now are authorised to agree to suspension of hostilities on our part." At the same time the War Office informed General Colley that the Government did not bind his discretion, but was anxious to avoid effusion of blood. Lord Kimberley's telegram was forwarded to Colley and to Joubert. Colley was dumfounded. He telegraphed back: "There can be no hostilities if no resistance is made; but am I to leave Laing's Nek in Natal territory in Boer occupation, and our garrisons isolated and short of provisions--or occupy former and relieve latter?"

Lord Kimberley's reply was characteristically ambiguous. The garrisons were to be left free to provision themselves, but Sir George was not to march to the relief of garrisons or occupy Laing's Nek if an arrangement were proceeding.