Chapter VI: Buller's Second Advance (2)

Presently, in the late afternoon a still more serious situation presented itself. Water, always scarce, threatened to run short altogether. Ammunition failed. A more appalling quandary in the drama of war can scarcely be imagined. Fortunately, to the relief of the plucky band on the heights, at last came a mule-train with much-desired water and cartridges, and the fight was pursued in more auspicious circumstances. But the Boer guns lost none of their persistency. Shells hurtled over the plateau, and as dusk set in, regiments and battalions and such officers as were left were mixed up in a surging, stumbling _melee_, wounded men firing last shots at the darkness, and hale ones dropping helpless as the blaze from the bursting projectiles showed, for one moment, the scene of agony.

When night made further activity impossible the position of affairs came under discussion. Was this sorry game worth the vast, the costly candle that was being expended--that yet might have to be expended? One commanding officer said "Yes!" another said "No!" It is stated that the decision rested with Colonel Crofton. He argued in favour of withdrawal. The troops were terribly mauled; the dead lay in crowds, a ghastly testimony of their impetuous courage. It had been found impossible to secure good cover against the enemy's shrapnel and venomous, unceasing quick-firers. There had scarcely been time for the raking of rifle-pits, the construction of stone defences--the guns of the foe had been too active and unceasing--and besides this, the troops were unaccustomed to the sly art of crouching to cover. While the Colonial crawled like a stalker along dongas and through gulleys to get at his quarry, the hardy Briton always exposed himself as though pluck demanded that he should make a mark of himself. As some one at the time expressed it, "Their courage is incontestable, their methods absurd." For this reason many of the trenches that our soldiers had so grandly defended became in the end their graves. The number of slain was appalling to see. The flower of the country lay struck down as the grass beneath the scythe of the reaper. It was a harvest of blood. The dead lay literally in stacks, the sole protection of their living comrades. Crowds upon crowds had pressed to the top of the great hill, offering a thick, compact front to the guns of the enemy, an imposing target to the horrible shells that merely breathed death as they passed. Liberally as the brigades exposed themselves, liberally they paid the penalty.

Late in the evening, guns--Naval guns and a battery--toiled towards the scene, rattling along through the night air to get into position for the morrow, and take revenge, though late, on the devastating "pom-poms" of the foe. But the die was cast. The withdrawal had begun. At 7.30 P.M. Colonel Thorneycroft gave the word. Slowly and in confused fashion the shattered braves began to wind downwards, and by nine the summit of the hill was almost deserted.

Pitiable were the circumstances of the retirement. The wounded, with staggering footsteps, crawled or crept down the mountain-side, reeling from loss of blood and exhaustion. Streams of officers and knots of men scrambled along calling for their units and finding them not. Drowsy, stupefied beings stumbled through dongas and broke their ankles against boulders, trying before they dropped to come in touch with their fellow-men. Many wandered aimlessly, twining the hill and passing over it into the hands of the enemy. Battalion was mixed with battalion, company with company. Dazed men searched in vain for the rendezvous. Some cursed, some swore, some slept or seemed to sleep. One commanding officer sat helplessly on the spur of the hill, staring like a somnambulist, deaf to all consciousness of the outer world; another, lying among the trenches, was given up for dead.

The losses were terrific. The Royal Engineers, in some cases, were riddled with bullets. Major Massey died covered with wounds. Lieutenant Falcon, 17th Company, had arms, legs, knees, and helmet perforated with lead. In fact, no one has been able very clearly to describe in its hideous reality the awful picture of the battle of Spion Kop. A great holocaust some called it, and with truth, for the mountain from morn till night was literally scourged with lead, raked in all directions by Maxim-Nordenfeldts, artillery, and musketry. The tale is only writ in the wounds and on the graves of those who by a miracle took the summit, and by sheer grit held it in the face of overwhelming odds. Over a thousand men gave their lives to gain that which, in twenty hours--hours each one crowded with moments of heroism--had to be abandoned. The evacuation was carried out by order of Colonel Thorneycroft, one of the most valiant of the many valiant men who went up only to come down again. The excellence of his reasons was acknowledged, and his personal valour was beyond dispute. His authority for action was the sole source of debate. A military correspondent of the _Daily Telegraph_ related an incident of the fight which served to show what manner of commander had taken the place made vacant by the wounding of General Woodgate. Some men, about a score, who had lost their officers, threw down their arms to surrender, but Thorneycroft, seeing the act, rushed out to the front and called to the Boers to go on firing, for he commanded on the hill, and he alone would give the word to surrender. The Boers promptly responded. The officer went on to say, "Luckily a fresh regiment arrived at our side and restored the battle, but Thorneycroft undoubtedly saved a dreadful disaster by conduct so gallant that it recalls the old story of _Messieurs de la Garde Francaise, tirez_."

Acts of gallantry were so numerous that V.C.'s were surely earned by the dozen. Lieutenant Mallock's devotion to duty was remarkable, and all regretted his loss. Captain Stewart, who also lost his life, assisted in maintaining the high traditions of the 20th Regiment.

The King's Royal Rifles lost three officers killed and five wounded. Their Colonel, the bravest of the brave, was hit while in the act of leading the regiment up the steeps. He rose for one instant to read a message and was shot through the brain. The commanders of three leading companies were all wounded. Colonel Thorneycroft was injured, Captain the Hon. J. H. Petre, though twice struck, held on to his duty till another bullet laid him low. Captain O'Gowan was hit in two places, and Lieutenant Lockwood in four, as also was Captain Murray of the Scottish Rifles while attempting to lead his men towards the Boer trenches. Death claimed this splendid officer before the end of the day. Captain Walter was killed by a shell.

Curious stories were told of the behaviour of the Boers to the Colonial soldiers, stories which were hardly creditable to the Dutchmen. What their deadly missiles had failed to do the Boers themselves accomplished. They clubbed some unfortunates to death. These were Uitlanders, or suspected of being such. The correspondent of the _Daily Telegraph_ gave the names of two men slaughtered in this way--Corporal Weldon and Private Daddon, ex-Pretoria men! In addition to this brutality, explosive bullets in quantities were used. A drummer and a private of the Fusiliers were both killed by them. It was said that the quantity of losses sustained by Thorneycroft's, the Imperial Light Horse, and other South African "Irregulars" was due to special spite owing to a suspicion on the part of the Boers that these regiments might have been recruited from Uitlanders. This charge was so generally believed that many of the "Regulars" came to the assistance of the Colonials, transferring to them their badges in order to save them from the consequences of discovery; for it was distinctly stated that cases had occurred where the Boers deliberately shot the wounded whom they knew to be Colonials. So as to be thoroughly impartial, however, we must remember that there are blood-thirsty villains of all nationalities in times of peace as well as in times of war.

Next morning, General Buller, riding to the scene of action, then, and then only, became acquainted with the decisive move, the abandonment of Spion Kop. His astonishment was great--so was that of the Boers. Some said that the foe had already begun trekking, believing, in spite of their stout resistance, that the position was lost. Others argued that any trekking that they might have attempted meant merely a manoeuvre consistent with their mobility to entice the British farther on into a trap from whence they could not have escaped. Be this as it may, a man of immense courage gave the order to withdraw, and he had his reasons, which reasons proved satisfactory to the Chief.

Drawing by Frank Craig from a Sketch by a British Officer.]

On the 25th the battle dragged on, the artillery barking and rifles snapping at each other, while the transport slowly prepared to retrace its winding way whither it had come, across the Tugela. The most gallant and perhaps the most melancholy feature of the war was at an end. General Warren's right flanking movement had failed, and the Commander-in-Chief decided that there was no alternative but to again concentrate in the neighbourhood of Potgieter's Drift. The movement was conducted, under the personal direction of General Buller, with admirable precision and skill, and though there were weary and disgusted hearts among the bitterly disappointed troops, they bore their trial with dignity. The return was orderly, and no further misfortune happened. The enemy made no attempt to interfere. They, too, though successful in their defence, were hard hit.

The following casualty list represents the cost of the great flanking movement:--

_Killed_:--Staff--Captain Virtue, Brigade-Major. 3rd King's
Royal Rifles--Lieut.-Colonel Buchanan Riddell, Lieutenant R.
Grand, Second Lieutenant French-Brewster. 2nd
Cameronians--Captain F. Murray, Captain Walter, Lieutenant
Osborne. 17th Company Royal Engineers--Major Massey. 2nd King's
Royal Rifles--Lieutenant Pope Wolferstan. 1st South
Lancashire--Captain Birch. 2nd Lancashire Fusiliers--Captain
Stewart, Lieutenant J. Mallock, Lieutenant Fraser. Imperial
Light Horse--Lieutenant Rudall, Lieutenant Kynock. 2nd
Middlesex Regiment--Captain Muriel, Second Lieutenant Lawley,
Second Lieutenant Wilson. 2nd Lancaster Regiment--Major Ross,
Captain Kirk, Lieutenant Wade. Thorneycroft's Mounted
Infantry--Captain Hon. W. Petre, Captain Knox-Gore, Lieutenant
Grenfell, Lieutenant Newnham, Lieutenant M'Corqudale,
Lieutenant Hon. Hill-Trevor. South African Light Horse--Major
Childe. 2nd West York--Captain Ryall.
_Wounded_:--Staff--Major-General Sir E. Woodgate[5] (since
dead), Captain Castleton, A.D.C. 3rd King's Royal Rifles--Major
Thistlethwayte, Major Kays, Captain Beaumont, Captain Briscoe.
2nd Cameronians--Major S. P. Strong, Major Ellis, Captain
Wanless-O'Gowan, Lieutenant H. V. Lockwood, Second Lieutenant
O. M. Torkington, Second Lieutenant F. G. W. Draffen. Indian
Staff Corps--Major Bayly. Bethune's Horse--Captain Ford. 17th
Company Royal Engineers--Lieutenant Falcon. 1st South
Lancashire--Lieutenant Raphael. 1st Border Regiment--Captain
Sinclair-M'Lagan, Second Lieutenant Andrews. 2nd Lancashire
Fusiliers--Lieut.-Colonel Blomfield (taken prisoner), Major
Walter, Lieutenant Griffin, Lieutenant Wilson, Lieutenant
Charlton. Royal Engineers--Captain Phillips. Royal Inniskilling
Fusiliers--Captain Maclachlan. 2nd West York--Lieutenant
Barlow. 2nd Lancashire Fusiliers--Captain Wolley-Dod, Captain
White, Captain Ormond, Lieutenant Campbell. 1st York and
Lancaster--Lieutenant Halford, Lieutenant Duckworth. 2nd West
Surrey--Captain Raitt (since dead), Captain Warden, Lieutenant
Smith, Lieutenant Wedd. 2nd Middlesex Regiment--Major
Scott-Moncrieff, Captain Savile, Captain Burton, Second
Lieutenant Bentley. 2nd Lancaster Regiment--Captain Sandbach,
Lieutenant Dykes, Lieutenant Stephens, Second Lieutenant Nixon.
Thorneycroft's Mounted Infantry--Captain Bettington, Lieutenant
Foster, Lieutenant Baldwin, Lieutenant Howard. _Missing_:--2nd
Lancashire Fusiliers--Captain Elmslie (taken prisoner), Captain
Hicks, Captain Freeth. 2nd Middlesex Regiment--Lieutenant
Galbraith. 2nd Lancaster Regiment--Major Carleton.
Thorneycroft's Mounted Infantry--Lieutenant Power-Ellis.

THE THIRD GREAT EFFORT--VAAL KRANTZ

At this time it seemed as though the word "As you were" had been spoken by the military authorities. But it was, alas! no longer possible to believe that the position was as it had been; for it was now a case of melancholy experience plus previous melancholy experience. Nearly six weeks before, the great frontal attack at Colenso had failed--failed partly by reason of the tremendous strategical position taken up by the Boers, with the river Tugela as a natural moat for its protection, and partly on account of the disaster to the guns, which completely upturned the plan of Sir Redvers Buller's calculations.

Now a great flank movement had been attempted, and had failed as signally as the first frontal effort. It was really discovered that a flanking movement, truly interpreted, was impossible, for there is no flank to a circle, and the Boer lines were found to be equally strong all round from Colenso to Ladysmith.

This horrible discovery naturally made the situation very grave indeed. The effect on the garrison of Ladysmith--the terrible rebound from delighted anticipation to amazed despair--may be partly imagined. None, indeed, save those who had so valiantly endured the terrible changes in the barometer of expectation could entirely gauge the sensitivity of those ill-fed, debilitated thousands, ravaged by disease, privation, and warfare, who hung oscillating day after day between salvation and destruction. They now knew that their saviours, Sir Charles Warren and his force, were withdrawn to the south of the Tugela. This was done because the river forms a species of natural rampart, beyond which the country--a species of South African Switzerland--offered no facilities to an attacking force. It was found that the Boers had carefully fortified every position already well formed by nature for purposes of defence. It was the same as Colenso. The theatre of war was margined by fortifications, regular galleries, rising tier upon tier on originally favourable positions. The opportunity to occupy these favourable positions the Boers owed entirely to us--to the procrastination and pacific tendencies of the British Government. It was now owned that Sir Alfred Milner should have gone to the Conference with a forest of rifles at his back, an army of mounted Colonials at his elbows, and some big guns "up his sleeve." As it was, while he talked and the Government spent its money on telegraphic palaver, the Boers, assisted by their German mercenaries, were marking out the choicest positions, not for their own defence, but for the defence of Natal (which they were allowed time to seize) against the "magnanimous" Briton. Yes, the Boers from the beginning had decided to talk the British into delay, and had profited gloriously by their strategy. In our first volume, a letter on "Boer ignorance" candidly showed the Dutchman's hand--too late, of course, for then the trick was bound to be taken. The Dutchmen conferred with Sir Alfred Milner to suit their own ends and to further their main objects; firstly, to keep the war outside their own territories, and secondly, to confine it to soil that, geographically and by a species of hereditary instinct, they knew to perfection. They, boy and man, loved those kopjes. In those semi-circular windings, those almost inaccessible peaks and cones, those boulders which afforded eternal cover to the sniper, those vast arenas of open veldt where an approaching enemy might be stormed upon by a deluge of leaden hail--they had mentally played hide-and-seek for eighteen years. Now the reality of the game was come. From the early days when Sir Harry Smith found them prospecting the fair land of Natal, they had learnt its intimate geography. We, to whom the fair land belonged, had barely heard of the Tugela or the region around it. To us it was superficially known only at the cost of dire experience. The Boers had been aware that the British advance northwards through the Free State would lie across flat fair country, and knowing this, had decided that during the month taken to land the British army they must take up their positions beyond and around it; and so excellent was their cunning, so amicably pacific the temper of the British nation, that they were enabled to follow their strategic programme in its entirety, and plant themselves in firmly rooted masses to await our arrival!

The problem of how to dislodge them and how to relieve Ladysmith was once more staring Sir Redvers Buller in the face with hard and unbending austerity. According to military experts, who viewed the plan of campaign with dispassionate eyes, the fate of Ladysmith should have been left out of the calculations. The troops should have been massed to a common centre and at the south, and from thence boldly advanced into the Free State. But against that opinion was the picture of the noble ten thousand inside a beleaguered town, a grand British multitude, who had been kept for months hoping against hope, fighting bravely, and praying of the Almighty to hasten the hour of their deliverance. They could not be left. While he had men and guns the General felt he must go on. But how? Certainly not by the newer route. The recapture of Spion Kop was decided to be impracticable, and the force remained stationary south of the Tugela while the complicated situation was reviewed.

The General, whatever his misfortunes, had lost none of the confidence of his troops. As he himself said of them, "The men were splendid." They were disgusted at being a second time defeated without being beaten, and disappointed at again being forced back from the road to Ladysmith; but their steadfast faith in their chief was unalterable. Sir Redvers Buller again addressed his warriors, promising them they should be in Ladysmith soon, and the men, Britons to the core, again said in their hearts, "We shall."

To replace 1600 killed and wounded in the late actions, drafts of 2400 men had now arrived. A mountain battery, A Battery R.H.A., and two fortress guns had strengthened the artillery, while two squadrons of the 14th Hussars had been added to the cavalry, thus bringing the strength of the force to 1000 more than the number which had started for Spion Kop. This was an imposing increase, but its value at the present time was much less than it would have been had Sir Redvers Buller originally taken the field with a proper complement of men and guns. "To do the thing handsomely we want 150,000 men," a tactician declared at the onset; but nobody heeded him, and in consequence of this heedlessness the complications in Natal had arisen.

"However," as a military officer expressed it, "there was not a sore head nor a timid heart in Buller's army. As we lie in our bivouacs at night, the Southern Cross and a thousand constellations watching over our slumbers, we dream of the Angel of Victory, and in our dreams we hear the flapping of her wings."

The optimism of the army was undiminished. There was no doubt whatever that they would relieve Ladysmith, but the when and the how remained as yet unsolved. The troops had not yet sustained actual defeat at the hands of the Boers, and, while our losses could be replaced, and _were_ being replaced, the recuperative power of the Boers was nil. Indeed it was stated that they had come to the end of their resources, and that they were already forcing Kaffirs to fight for them in the trenches. Later on it was discovered that females even--true to the ancient sporting instinct of the Boer woman--were lending a hand in the management of the rifle.

At last, after some days of deliberation, a third great attempt to reach the imprisoned multitude in Ladysmith was planned out.

A week of waiting and then a new advance was decided on. Seventy guns drew up in line on the hills to prepare the way for another gigantic move. This time Sir Redvers Buller's plan was to occupy a hill called Vaal Krantz and get forward between Spion Kop and the Doorn Kloof ranges. But after a very short yet valorous essay, it was discovered that there were veritably cannon to right of them, cannon to left of them. The Boers commanded the hills on either side the road through which the troops must pass. Not only were there guns on both sides, but these Krupps and Creusot cannon far outranged anything that our artillery could bring to bear on them. The Naval guns alone were capable of not only barking but biting, and these three were not enough to meet the formidable array of the Republicans.

On the 5th of February, however, the gallant attempt was made. The cavalry moved forward about 6 A.M.--one brigade under Colonel Burn-Murdoch advanced to the right below Swartz Kop, the Colonials under Lord Dundonald kept nearer to Potgieter's Drift, Sir Charles Warren with one brigade remained west of Mount Alice in a position commanding the road leading to Potgieter's Drift. The Naval guns meanwhile came into action, shelling the Boer positions, dongas, and trenches, and every imaginable hiding-place with immense energy, but with little result. The Boers in their trenches were quiet, as usual reserving themselves for an effective outburst later on. Meanwhile the Lancashire Brigade (now under Colonel Wynne) were advancing in skirmishing order to the tune of the mighty orchestra, while above an officer of sappers in the balloon spied out the Boer haunts, and directed accordingly. By nine o'clock pandemonium was unloosed--lyddite bellowed, shrapnel clattered over the whole fortified face of Brakfontein, while the infantry steadily moved on. Presently from dongas and trenches, at ranges of 1000 yards and less, came the crackling of rifles, to which our troops responded by volleys now and again. Between these volleys they proceeded steadily, regardless of the uproar and the fell work of the eternally active sniper.

Photo by Gregory & Co., London.]

While this feint attack was taking place on the left before the now flaming ridges of Brakfontein, a real and vigorous move was being made on the extreme right for the purpose of carrying the crest of Vaal Krantz, which was then thought to be the key to the direct road to Ladysmith, and was not very strongly fortified by the Dutchmen. The Royal Engineers with immense energy set to work laying a pontoon bridge across the treacherous depths in the direction of Skiet's Drift, an operation which had to be performed with infinite patience and pluck, as the Boers were no sooner aware of their activities than they plied their Mausers with a will. This crossing-place, styled Munger's Ford, now attracted the attention of the whole Boer artillery, and the "pom-poms" and 40-pounders of the enemy contrived to render the locality anything but an enviable place of rendezvous. Our pieces, from their hiding-place among the trees in the neighbourhood of Swartz Kop, soon bombarded the Boer position with equal activity. By ten o'clock the bridge had been thrown across the river, and General Lyttelton and his troops were preparing for the assault of Vaal Krantz. The artillery now made its finishing demonstration before Brakfontein, there being no necessity--now that the troops had come successfully across the pontoon bridge--for a continuation of the feint attack. For this reason the Lancashire Brigade was now ordered to retire. The gallant fellows, having done what was required of them, marched back in excellent order to their original position.

All this while shells were shrieking, lyddite was bursting, and musketry crackling, till the whole earth seemed riven with an enormous convulsion. The gunners had some terrific experiences, and nobly, in a truly alarming position, they comported themselves. They were on low ground, exposed without shelter to the Boer works, which dominated the plain; yet they pursued their labours with unerring care and intelligence that was truly remarkable. Shell plumped in their midst, under the limbers, over the guns, above their heads, round their feet. They stuck to their duty. Horses dropped and shrieked in their agony, gunners fell shot through the heart and were carried away. Loudly the vociferous chorus of death went on, steadily the gunners took their share of the fearful drama of destruction. To show the vast amount of "grit" that these gunners could boast, an incident of the day must be recorded. About noon the batteries were ordered to approach nearer to Vaal Krantz and prepare the way for the infantry assault. The guns, ever under a scathing fire, moved off in due order to take up the fresh position on the right facing Vaal Krantz. Finally they came to the last waggon, an ammunition waggon belonging to the 78th Battery R.A., which was horseless. The team had been wiped off by the enemy. Nevertheless the gunners put their shoulders to the wheel, and, with a mighty effort, rolled the machine straight through the fiery hurricane to a place of safety! The conduct of the Jack Tars also stuck another feather in their already well-decorated caps. While the new balloon made its descent it became an object of attention, and was saluted vigorously by the enemy. Nevertheless the sailors stuck to their work, held the basket, took possession of the truculent aerial vessel, and marched off with it under a galling fire.

By-and-by, when Vaal Krantz had been thoroughly searched and swept by the British batteries, and the snipers from the base of Doorn Kloof had been partially reduced to silence by the joint efforts of the artillery and Hildyard's Brigade, Lyttelton's gallant band began to move off from the direction of Munger's Farm on the road to Vaal Krantz. It was now the early afternoon, but from all sides the deadly missiles of the enemy still bellowed and hooted. Still the Durham Light Infantry, with the 3rd King's Royal Rifles on their right, pushed steadily on--forward from the river and up the precipitous broken face of the hill. Cheering, they went, clambering and leaping, and whether it was the menacing roar, or the suggestion it gave of coming steel that stirred them, certain it was that few of the foe remained to meet the charge.

The Boers saw them--heard them--gauged the meaning of the lusty British cheer--and bolted. Scarcely any elected to fall victim to the bayonet. Those who were there threw up their hands and appealed for mercy. These were promptly made prisoners, and the British, for the time being, reigned supreme on the hill. But their reign had its discomforts. Dutchmen crowded the ground, west, east, and north of them, dosing them liberally with lead from their rifles, while their position was perpetually pounded by the big guns of the enemy. These, vomiting on the eastern slopes of the hill, set fire to the grass and added to the discomforts of the position by surrounding it with appalling fumes, which choked and blinded, and destroyed the view of the Dutchmen's haunts. Nevertheless, the kopje once gained, the men rushed along the crest and entrenched themselves in a spot that looked as though it had been overtaken by a prairie fire. Our shells had effectually cleared the grass and scrub. The gunners from the surrounding kopjes kept a sharp lookout, firing at the Boers as they brought up their guns from all directions, while General Lyttelton maintained his ground. Meanwhile efforts were made to get the batteries forward to the hill, but the task was a difficult one, and the position was strengthened and enlarged in order to assist in the accomplishment of the desired object. Until guns could be mounted and made to defy the active aggression of the "pom-poms," Creusots, and other deadly weapons of the enemy, there could be no hope of getting the troops and their baggage through to Ladysmith. At this time an obstinate effort to gain lost ground was made by the Republicans, but owing to the doughty resistance of the Scottish Rifles and the King's Royal Rifles, the attempt to dislodge them entirely failed. Towards seven o'clock a drizzling rain and darkness descended. The troops which had gathered together between Swartz Kop, Munger's Drift, and the newly acquired hill were forced to bivouac where they were for the night, Sir Redvers Buller and his staff remaining on the field with the men.

At dawn on the 6th of February the Boers resumed their activity. Long Tom--the first to awake--with his big black snout snorted sonorously. Bang went a hundred-pound shell across the plain--helter-skelter flew the British Tommies, who were enjoying their morning tea, and crash and splash went their delicious brew. Fortunately no serious harm was done. A few horses were killed. But after this began an artillery duel of vigorous nature. This was chiefly directed against General Lyttelton's troops on Vaal Krantz. The Boers seemed everywhere, more ubiquitous than usual. From the lower crests of Spion Kop, from the peak of Doorn Kloof, from the mountains commanding the road to Ladysmith, flame vomited, and lead and steel and powder spouted and spluttered.

The fact was that during the night the Boers, in order to proceed with the work of defence, had set fire to more grass in the neighbourhood of the British position, and utilised the illumination for the transfer of their guns from one place to another. Early, therefore, they were enabled to greet the camp with the roar of a Creusot gun and other weapons from all quarters playing upon the position. Shells burst everywhere, some even reaching headquarters. It was said that Buller, the imperturbable, welcomed them. Certainly his Spartan-like disregard of danger was remarkable, and was responsible for the superb nonchalance of those who served under him. Still, with his courage he displayed caution, the caution that only a courageous man would dare to display. He decided later on that his move was impracticable, that more lives should not be spent in futile effort. Of this anon. While the Creusots and Krupps pounded the hill, the Boers strove their uttermost to regain their hold on the lost position. Meanwhile the Naval guns rumbled and rampaged, ammunition waggons blew up, earthquakes filled the clear blue atmosphere with avalanches of dust, and one of the enemy's cherished weapons on Spion Kop was knocked clean out of action.

Late in the afternoon, the worn-out troops of Lyttelton's Brigade were relieved by Hildyard's men, who came in from a violent night-attack by the enemy. This in their usual gallant style was repelled by the East Surrey and the West Yorks--the veteran West Yorks, who had learned not a little from Beacon Hill onwards.

On Wednesday the firing grew terrific. More guns were brought up, seemingly from the bowels of the earth; they were posted everywhere--another 6-inch Creusot gun, Maxim cannons, two 30-pounders, three "pom-poms," in addition to the death-dealing weapons of the previous day. Shells hurtled and burst on hill and dale, mountain and valley, smoke, flame, and dust spouted forth, making the atmosphere dense, torrid, and fearsome. Still Hildyard's dauntless brigade held their ground unflinchingly, while the Naval guns strove bravely, but strove in vain, to tackle the great snorting crew of the opposition. It seemed as though the advance must be accomplished not merely through a zone, but a sheath of fire, for the road to Ladysmith was barred from end to end, a sheer _cul-de-sac_, with flame and death for its lining.

Our troops during the whole day hung tenaciously to Vaal Krantz, while the Dutchmen obstinately challenged their right to be there. But nothing appreciable was achieved, and evacuation seemed the wiser and more profitable course to pursue. By this time it began to be recognised that the strategic value of Vaal Krantz for turning the Brakfontein position had been over-estimated, and that an advance would necessitate the routing of the Boers from Brakfontein and the taking and holding of Doorn Kloof, if our communications through the valley were to be maintained.

There was no glory in trying to proceed in the teeth--nay, into the jaws--of so overpowering a foe, a foe who was on the eve of outflanking us. It would have been walking into a fiery furnace--into the pocket of hell. Another council of war took place. Retirement was suggested. General Hart, as distinguished for valour as General Lyttelton for brave discretion, proposed the storming of Doorn Kop. He and his were ready for everything: he had Ireland at his back. But Pat was not to be thrown away on an impossible undertaking, and consequently the majority had their way, and the retirement was effected. On Friday the whole glorious persevering band were again across the Tugela, preparing to strike out in a fresh direction.

Photo by Wilson, Aberdeen.]

The following is the list of casualties between the 5th and 7th of February:--

_Killed_:--1st Durham Light Infantry--Major Johnson Smith;
Second Lieutenant Shafto.

_Wounded_:--1st Durham Light Infantry--Lieut.-Colonel
Fitzgerald; Captain Lascelles; Second Lieutenant Lambton;
Second Lieutenant Appleby. 1st Rifle Brigade--Captain Thorp;
Captain Talbot; Lieutenant Blewitt; Lieutenant Ellis;
Lieutenant Sir T. Cunninghame, Bart. 3rd King's Royal
Rifles--Lieutenant Sims. Royal Artillery--Lieut.-Colonel
Montgomery, Captain Dawson, 78th Battery R.F.A. 2nd Scottish
Rifles--Second Lieutenant Ferrars. 2nd West Yorkshire--Second
Lieutenant Bicknell. 2nd East Surrey--Captain White. R.A.M.C.,
Major Rose.

DISAPPOINTMENT AT LADYSMITH

The fearful and ghastly activity of the 6th of January ceased with dusk. Night descended: she came softly as the footsteps of angels moving lightly among the tranquil dead. The moon, with pale white serenity, looked down on the scene of carnage, so still, so appallingly still; and the dots of twinkling stars seemed like a thousand eyes of heaven, seeing and inquiring how the face of the fair earth could grow so changed within a day. And everywhere there moved leaden hearts and feet weary with the long strain of foregone hours. Hunger, exposure, and long vigils had become a daily routine, but this close and sustained attack, and the terrible havoc it had wrought on the weakening numbers, brought with it new alarms. True, the bayonet, the trusty bayonet, had served its turn, and might serve again, so long as strength would hold out. But there were doubts. The Russian general Suvaroff once said, "The ball is a fool, but the bayonet is a brick." He took it for granted that the bayonet even must needs have a man, and not the ghost of a man, at the back of it; and the poor heroes in Ladysmith were fast becoming shadows of the hale and muscular fellows who had scaled the steeps of Talana Hill and broken the echoes of Elandslaagte with the yell of victory. Sadly and solemnly they now set themselves to the pathetic work of removing the slain.

On the 7th of January one of the Boer medical officers rode in under a Red Cross flag, requesting the burial of the British dead. A party started to fulfil this sad office, and while they wandered about picking up the melancholy mutilated forms, the Boers assisted in the task, and in some cases helped to dig the graves and carry the slain; conversing the while with such perfect amity, that it was almost impossible to believe they were deadly foes. Deeply pathetic was the reading of the solemn burial service by the commanding officer, for Britons and Boers stood side by side, and one of the latter, moving apart, uttered a short prayer that the war would soon be at an end. This was followed by the singing of a hymn in Dutch, a quaint, simple, earnest solemnity, which was vastly touching to all.

The curious blend of courage and pleasantness, of trickery and barbarity, in the Boer character has been remarked upon before. It was never more displayed than in the dealings of the Boers around Ladysmith. On one day they would shell an hospital, or rather the Town Hall, knowing it to serve as an hospital; on another they would treat the wounded with almost brotherly consideration. For instance, one man in the 19th Hussars, who was wounded on January 6, and subsequently taken prisoner, gave a refreshing account of Boer manners. Though shot in the arm, he remained at his post till dark, and then in the gloom mistook his way to camp and wandered down the wrong side of the hill. He was captured and detained till morning, while his wound was dressed and cared for. Then he was sent back to camp armed with a tin of jam and a box of chocolate! A somewhat similar experience was related by another man, one of the Gordons, who was wounded and taken prisoner on Waggon Hill early in the morning, and was removed in charge of an old Boer to a place of safety half-way down the slope. From here he subsequently escaped. In the _melee_ that followed the Devons' charge across the plateau in the thick of the hailstorm, the Boers, shouting in Dutch that the rooineks were upon them, stampeded, and consequently the prisoner was left to his own devices. He thereupon rejoined the troops.

The Boers in the fight had been animated by unusual confidence. They had seemed assured of victory. Their demeanour was cool and deliberate, some of them doing an hour's firing while others put in a half-hour's nap under cover of the rocks. All their preparations were made with a view to spending Sunday in Ladysmith, and their tents were ready to be pitched immediately they had obtained possession of the ridge. They, in fact, firmly believed that they would make a repetition of Majuba, and it was noticed that their tactics were identical with those observed on that tragic occasion. Curiously enough, an exceedingly interesting relic of Majuba came to hand. A rifle bearing the mark "Majuba" and the name of the 58th Regiment was found on an old Boer. It had evidently been captured on the fatal day when Colley fell.

Much regret was felt for the loss of Lord Ava, one of the cheeriest of soldiers and most handsome and brilliant of men. He had served with the 17th Lancers, and had also cast in his lot with the irregulars in South Africa under Methuen. He was essentially a sporting and a romantic figure in all circles of London society, having resuscitated the fortunes of Ranelagh and engaged himself actively in plans and projects for the brightening of social life. He was moreover a general favourite, and sympathy with Lord Dufferin on the loss of his promising heir was great.

Now that the rivers were flooded the service of native runners was precarious, and less than ever was known of the outside world. But the Boers were seen to be in active movement on the distant hills, and there was a very general belief that the quiet that was enjoyed was due to some advance movement on the part of General Buller that was demanding the attention of the Dutchmen. This belief was confirmed by the sight of two machine-guns which were being galloped off post-haste to a destination unknown.

Since Christmas the prices had gone up. Eggs by the middle of January were worth 19s. a dozen, and jam cost 6s. 6d. a tin. Condensed milk was sold for 10s. a tin, other things, particularly medicines, were becoming priceless. An appalling apathy almost approaching despair had settled on the community. It was going on for three months since they had been shut off from the outside world, during which their losses had exceeded 1500 in slain, wounded, and missing, yet they were no nearer release. Indeed, each began to wonder whether death or Sir Redvers Buller's force would reach them first. One month after another passed, and with them, precious lives, yet little fuss was made, for death was a common visitor. Much regret was felt at the loss on the 15th of the brilliant author and correspondent of the _Daily Mail_, Mr. G. W. Steevens. His was a young career, rich in promise. But death is a connoisseur--he chooses the best. Only a few days before, Mr. Mitchell, sub-editor of the _Johannesburg Star_, and Lieutenant Stabb (Naval Reserve) of the _Times of India_, had been carried off by enteric fever; while young Ferrand, sometime a correspondent of the _Morning Post_ and a trooper of the Light Horse, fell in action on the 6th.

From a sketch by George Lynch, War Correspondent.

The hospital train is here shown on its way to Intombi Camp with its daily load of sick and wounded.]

But soon a change came. Sounds of unusual guns reached their ears--ears now well attuned to all the surrounding noises. Though news by heliogram came slowly and at long intervals, all were conscious that something was afloat.

They were soon wild with excitement and anticipation. Not only could Sir George White's garrison hear the distant thunder of the guns of the relieving column, a sound which made heavenly music to their ears, but from the lookout posts on the heights held by them they could occasionally see the bursting of the shells fired by the Naval guns from the region of Potgieter's Drift. The attention of the investing force was now distracted; the Dutchmen were concentrating their energies to repel the movement of the British troops on the Upper Tugela, and continued to send reinforcements westward to meet the demand on their resources there. But they strengthened their works on the north of the town, added some more howitzers and fired a few shells by way of introduction.

Photo by Elliott & Fry, London.]

At this time impatience and anxiety arrived at an almost painful pitch. Every soul was panting for the signal that might call upon them to co-operate in the final tug-of-war which should set Ladysmith free. Acutely were the movements of General Buller's relieving force watched from the highest points in the town. Intense was the interest displayed as every bursting shell threw forth its dense volumes of brown smoke, and showed how the friendly lyddite worked to the rescue. The garrison looked forth breathlessly for the coming of relief, hoping, praying, doubting, fearing, with nothing to vary the ever-recurrent anguish of anticipation.

At this date a journalist made a daring sortie on his own account, and reached Durban in safety. He left with permission at nightfall on the 18th of January, and, guided by a wily Kaffir, made tracks for Chieveley. Having gone about two miles to the east of Caesar's Camp and approached unwarily a Boer picket, he was promptly challenged. Then ping! ping! ping! a swift whistling sound of Boer bullets, and silence! The journalist, to use a sporting phrase, was lying "doggo." Not a shot touched him. Flat on his stomach he remained for fully half an hour with bated breath, then, when murmurs of the disquieted Boers ceased to ruffle the night air, he resumed his way, groping on hands and knees, and wishing fervently that he had taken lessons in deportment earlier--from the quadrupeds. Perilous was the onward journey, clambering and crawling up hill and down dale, and falling over rocks and stones in the pitch darkness. Daylight saw him at the hut of a friendly native not far from Chieveley, and here concealed, he spent twenty-four hours of terrible suspense till it was time again to proceed on his journey. The Boers almost discovered him. They called at the hut for milk, absorbed it, and looked about suspiciously, while the man of the pen was penned in amongst a heap of blankets, a perspiring mass, quaking but safe.

Meanwhile with the rumour of battle in the air, hope revived. It continued to increase as the British positions from the heights around the town became visible--the newly gained positions on Swartz Kop and the eminences near the Tugela at Potgieter's and Trichardt's Drifts. Every red flash was like a smile of welcome--every roar of bursting shrapnel seemed a very chorus of jubilation. To the ears of the besieged the tremendous awe-striking cannonade appeared as the loved assurance of Great Britain, their deliverer, saying, with grand majestic tone, "I am coming." In the distance the Boers could be seen in frenzied activity inspanning their waggons, and towards the evening they were observed trekking northwards towards Van Reenan's Pass. Many conjectures were rife, and subsequently on the 25th curiosity grew to fever heat. Surely the British were in possession of Spion Kop! Decidedly they were masters of the situation! Yet in the nek below, by the light of the telescope, Boer camps could be seen on the plains; under cover of the great hill Boer cattle were grazing. What could this mean? Had the Boers gone and left everything to the mercy of their victors? or were they merely in hiding, intending to return at nightfall, and remove their valuables? Certainly the Burghers were to be viewed mounted and decamping in the direction of the pass, and also winding strings of waggons pursuing their slow way in the same direction. Still the riddle remained unsolved. Night fell. The suspense grew more and more fevered; it became almost a delirium. There was little sleep; then, when morning dawned, there was more anxiety and more puzzling, more mental torture. The Boers were as much in evidence as ever!

Disappointment may be borne with a show of spirit when the inner machinery is well oiled, but the inhabitants of Ladysmith had no such source of fortitude. True, they had fared, if not sumptuously, at least practically, on horse-sausages, which were turned out wholesale from a factory for the benefit of the troops, and on fairly nourishing soup which was supplied in the same way; but of civilised food there was none. Eggs had now gone up to 36s. a dozen, and a diminutive and emaciated fowl could be purchased for 18s. These luxuries were for the elect. For the mass a varying dietary of horse and mule was obligatory. Vegetables were sold at a prohibitive price, and a case of whisky was raffled for and fetched L145, so that "Dutch courage" wherewith to meet their misfortune was unpurchasable.

Not till Sunday the 28th the fearful truth was learned, that Warren, after holding Spion Kop, had retired, and left the Boers in undisturbed occupation of their commanding position!

As all the latest events to the south were communicated to the garrison as fast as they were made known to the chief, the news of the capture of Spion Kop and the disappointing retirement therefrom was published in general orders. Blank faces turned from each other, that none should see the reflection of his own despondency. Intense had been the rapture of the anxious inhabitants when they had heard the far-away booming of the British guns, seen the splashing of British lyddite, watched the great spouts of smoke that spoke of tremendous activity and their possible salvation. Now their dismay was more than proportionate. After all their agony--silence. Silence, so far as they were concerned. Mystery, doubt, and agonising suspense--and now the news, the woeful news, that the second splendid effort to break through the imprisoning Boer girdle had failed!

Still the garrison was resolved to hold on to the last, preferring death by starvation or disease rather than surrender. The malodorous surroundings were borne with patience, the diminution of the supply of medicines, watched with pathetic resignation. Nevertheless an untold weariness crept over the unhappy sufferers, who spent their days huddled underground and dreading to expose themselves in the open lest they should be caught by a shell or "sniped" at by some Boer more enterprising than the rest. How they longed, how they prayed for the great hour! They believed in Buller; they knew he would come, they said to themselves. But when, O when? And echo answered--When?

LORD ROBERTS AT THE CAPE

On the 10th of January Lord Roberts arrived. He was received by General Sir F. Forestier Walker on behalf of Sir Alfred Milner. All the ships in port were dressed, and there was immense excitement at the prospect of better things. Many recalled to mind the occasion of the last coming of the great little man, when, on the eve of a campaign to retrieve Majuba, he found that the British Government, unknown to him, had arranged peace on contemptible terms. At that time it was said he broke his sword in indignation at the betrayal to which he had been subjected, and vowed never again to serve under a British Government. Be this as it may--he had now come at the earnest call of his country, and all felt that his coming meant a turn in the wheel of fortune. After his arrival things began gradually to unfold themselves, and the promise of decisive movement was in the air.

Lord Roberts's decision to bring the Colonial volunteers to the support of the Imperial forces was acknowledged to be a great move. The Colonist's services were eminently to be desired, for he had taken the Boer measure. He knew him in all the complex windings of his sinuous, twisting nature. In some respects the Boer had been his lesson-book. From him he had learned the necessity to be a good shot, a smart horseman, and a long stayer. He followed the ins and outs of the Dutchman's war game, and could practise the art of dodging round kopjes and into dongas, hiding in scrub and disappearing from mortal ken at a moment's notice, with the zest and agility of a schoolboy playing at hide and seek, and with a certain enjoyment in the diamond-cut-diamond sort of exercise.

On the 26th of January General Brabant arrived at Queenstown to take over the command of the Colonial Division, and on the same day General Kelly Kenny, commanding the Sixth Division, occupied Thebus, a position on the railway between Middleburg and Stormberg Junction. This station is situated about ninety miles from Colesberg, around which General French so untiringly operated, and forty-five miles from Stormberg, the scene of General Gatacre's disaster.

On the 1st of February the City of London Volunteers landed. Immediately after their arrival at the Cape they were honoured by a visit from the great man who was about to control the destinies of South Africa. Gracefully he welcomed them, and said how little it had been imagined in days gone by, the days when the Volunteer force had been established, that any of its members would come to take part in a war in South Africa. He expressed his belief that nothing was more calculated to benefit the army than employment together on service of all its component parts, and that these would learn to appreciate each other, and acquire a spirit of comradeship which would have far-reaching results. He reminded them that strangely enough the first Volunteers left home three hundred years ago to fight for the Dutch, and arrived just in time to save Flushing from the Spaniards. On this occasion they would take an equally brilliant part in establishing peace, order, and freedom in South Africa.

(Photo, Cribb, Southsea.)]

The members of the corps were delighted. Colonel Cholmondeley expressed their thanks, and they all cheered right royally. They were burning to get to the front, and, in spite of the sudden change of temperature from British midwinter to tropical sunshine, their zeal to be up and doing was unabated. They waited at the Cape to be joined by the second detachment and receive their horses, after which they entrained for the western border, where they were so soon to distinguish themselves.

Photo by Hosking, Cape Town.]

There was great satisfaction at the announcement that General Brabant would command the Colonial corps. The class of men enlisting in Brabant's Horse, the Imperial Horse, Bailey's Horse, and other of the South African mounted corps was a superior one. The volunteers were mostly well-to-do men, sons of farmers and Colonials who were residents in the country, and were intimately acquainted with its geography. Moreover, they were men and not striplings, and were averse from being commanded by young officers who were absolutely without South African experience.

It has been rumoured that the British officers and those of the irregular troops have not always been in accord. The fact is, that one is a master of discipline and the other a master of independence. The Colonial is accustomed to habits of complete self-reliance; he expects to be treated like an individual and not as a machine. Our military system is a machine-made system, and one which, unluckily for us, has been incapable of any of the smart plasticities which warfare with the Boers has demanded. Colonial troops will be led, but they won't be driven. They are composed of men of first-rate quality, but not men accustomed blindly to obey orders. The Colonist obeys because of the personal influence of a man or men whom he holds intellectually or morally in esteem, but the word discipline for sheer discipline's sake he is disinclined to understand. Among the ranks of the Colonials are many men of wealth and influence, men of high character and good education. These could not suddenly be treated in the same way as the British regulars, who, being gifted with more dare-devil courage than knowledge of the three R's, require to be welded together on a system. A tactician once asked the question--What is the difference between an army and a mob? and the general answered--"Discipline." It is discipline that converts a rowdy British youngster into the glorious British Tommy that he is. With the Colonial we have already the trained and independent man, and the system of give and take is the only system that can avert friction between men who, though brothers in blood, have, and always must have, the special idiosyncrasies attendant on their dissimilar forms of life.