Chapter XVI: Eastward to Belfast and Barberton Under Generals French and Mahon

After such a march, in which horses had become so emaciated by want of sufficient food to sustain them, and so leg-weary from incessant work under heavy burdens, that more than two-thirds of them were temporarily unfit for service, the corps naturally expected to get a long rest at Pretoria. Nearly every man needed it too, and welcomed the prospect of a little town life in touch with civilisation, where some luxuries might be enjoyed and experiences exchanged with comrades from other columns. Ragged and out at heels from being having marched long distances through tangled growth of rhenoster bushes and ‘wait-a-bit’ thorns to relieve their exhausted steeds, these troopers naturally looked forward to the chance of clothing themselves in comfort if the stores of Pretoria should be equal to that demand, or at any rate of waiting until articles of much-needed kit could be got up from the bases where these things had been left. Such expectations were natural enough in the case of men who began to think there would be no more need of their services, since Lord Roberts had expressed an opinion that regular warfare was nearly at an end. Circumstances seemed then to justify that view. Though De Wet was still at large, he did not count for much while his followers were scattered in all directions with little chance of coming together again. Botha’s forces, offering but a feeble resistance at any point, had been pushed further and further eastward by Generals French and Pole-Carew, operating in their front, and the army of Natal on their flank. Buller had fought his brilliant action at Bergendal, where Lord Roberts considered the success decisive, saying: ‘It was carried out in view of the main Boer position, and the effect of it was such that the enemy gave way at all points, flying in confusion to the north and east. Next morning Buller was able to occupy Machadodorp without opposition.’ Dundonald’s brigade of Irregular Cavalry had pushed on in pursuit of the Boers through mountainous country, where they made no stand against him. Buller, continuing his march, occupied Waterval Boven, where the prisoners released from Nooitgedacht joined him. President Kruger and other members of the late Transvaal Government were at Nelspruit preparing for flight across the Portuguese frontier; and General French was at Carolina, waiting only for reinforcements to make his swoop on Barberton by way of the last stronghold that remained in the enemy’s hands south of the Delagoa Bay Railway. It looked, indeed, as if Boer resistance on any organised scale must be near its final stage, and the thoughts of Lumsden’s Horse naturally turned towards home rather than to opportunities for gaining fresh distinction. Their hopes of immediate peace with honour were, however, doomed to disappointment. Before they had been in Pretoria many hours orders for a fresh move had reached them, and, instead of having leisure for relaxation or even a taste of civilisation’s comforts, they had to spend the next day in drawing from stores the outfit of which they were sorely in need and making other preparations for their march. Their Brigadier-General (Mahon) was to go in command of reinforcements for General French, and the troops placed at his disposal were M Battery Royal Horse Artillery, the 3rd Corps of Mounted Infantry, Queensland Mounted Infantry, New Zealand Mounted Rifles, 79th Company Imperial Yeomanry, the Imperial Light Horse, and Lumsden’s Horse. The order came to them in a form which left no doubt in any mind that there was still a man’s work to be done, and that they were about to take part in another important phase of the great Boer war. Therefore they put aside all vain regrets for the things that were just then out of reach. Disappointment gave place quickly to gratification at the thought that they were to see service under such a dashing leader as General French, who had never up to that time met the Boers without bringing them to action, and whose reputation rose higher after every enterprise undertaken by him, though he was not always allowed to take full advantage of a success by following up his beaten enemies. The Boers, who attributed every British success in the Free State and Transvaal to luck or to overwhelming numbers, had given to French the title of the ‘lucky General.’ They said it was by luck alone that he beat Commandant Koch at Elandslaagte before their reinforcements could come up. Luck, according to them, served him again in the hour of his secret withdrawal from Colesberg just before De la Rey’s plans for annihilation were complete, and yet again when he made his dash at interposing forces north of Modder River, and, striking at the very point where they were weakest, got through just in the nick of time, took their positions in reverse, and thus cleared a way for the relief of Kimberley. If all this can be called luck, then it is something to be a lucky general and goes a long way in justification of the faith that Napoleon placed in men who had that reputation. At any rate, no Boer commandos were very eager to get in the way of ‘lucky French,’ and whenever he was known to be operating on their flank they always thought it time to summon thither one of their own Generals most trusted for his ability to conduct a retreat. That luck fell more than once to De la Rey’s lot. In a recent conversation that redoubtable leader, the best fighting man of all on the Boer side, told the Editor of this History that it was he who opposed French at Driefontein after Cronjé’s surrender. He also had to fight all the rearguard actions up to the time of our crossing the Vaal, when he went off in hot haste for the purpose of intercepting Mahon’s column before it could reach Mafeking. Having been out-manœuvred there, he was called back to aid Botha outside Johannesburg, and entrusted again with the task of delaying French’s flanking movement by the defence of Klipriviersberg until the Boer guns and convoys could make good their retreat. Obviously they did not think it safe to trust anything to chance when our ‘lucky General’ was pressing them, but sent their wiliest tactician and most stubborn fighter to hold him in play while they cleared off. If any of them really believed in their capacity to beat French on equal terms—the advantage of ground being with them to counterbalance British superiority in numbers—an admirable opportunity offered in the mountainous ranges of the Devil’s Kantoor, where, Boer leaders had frequently declared, they would crush any force attempting to reach Barberton that way. If properly held, the positions there would have been almost impregnable. Few people to this day know the difficulties that French had before him when he concentrated his force at Carolina. The Boers knew all about these things. Every zig-zag track like a winding stair up the precipitous mountain-side was familiar to them. They knew also the object with which he was waiting to gather strength at Carolina, and they brought forces against him that were little inferior numerically to his own. Yet when at last he struck straight for almost inaccessible mountain passes, instead of making a wide detour to get round them, they were so paralysed by the ‘lucky General’s’ audacity that they let him have his way, which led by the nearest track to Barberton. This slight digression, however, anticipates events which may now be dealt with more fully in the narratives by Colonel Lumsden, his officers and troopers, whose experiences and observations are woven together in the following description of events in something like proper sequence:

We were by this time reduced to forty fit horses.

Our stay in Pretoria, as we had heard it would be, was only a short
one. The day after arriving in camp we were served out with new kit,
of which we were sadly in need, most of the men being in a very ragged
condition indeed. General Mahon was to proceed to Carolina and join
General French’s division there, leaving General Ian Hamilton’s
division, to which we were no longer attached. It rained heavily the
night before we started, and as we marched at daybreak there was no
time to dry our blankets, which were simply sopping wet.

Our total muster on parade was—A Company 17, B Company 24; in all, 41
rank-and-file. The balance of nearly 100 men, under Captain Beresford,
were to follow on receipt of remounts, and overtake us if possible.
This hope was soon knocked on the head, for while headquarters started
with General Mahon for Barberton, the remainder were sent to
Machadodorp, which they reached without much adventure a fortnight
later. Notwithstanding their repeated attempts to join us, their
wishes were not acceded to, the country being considered too dangerous
for a small party to move alone. On the 31st we reached Bronkhurst
Spruit, memorable in the Transvaal as the spot where British troops,
under Colonel Anstruther, were badly cut up in the last war, while
marching, all unconscious that war had been declared against the
Transvaal. On September 1 we passed Balmoral and camped at
Elandsfontein. On the 2nd, near the Transvaal and Delagoa Bay
coal-mines, a French gentleman was good enough to communicate the
latest Boer lie. It was that China was sending a million of troops to
invade England. The country about here is very treacherous, with many
swamps which unwary troopers may not see until they are floundering in
mire, where their horses sink to the girths. Our camp that night was
at Reitspruit, six miles from Middelburg.

The next day we passed Middelburg, which proved a grievous
disappointment, for there was absolutely nothing in the way of
provisions procurable, and camped at Reitpan. The weather was very
hot, the sun striking down with great force during the middle of the
day. General Mahon had adopted the plan of off-saddling and halting
for two or three hours during the heat of the day, instead of marching
steadily from 6 A.M. to 6 P.M. with short halts of ten minutes every
now and then. This gave man and beast a thorough rest, and the
opportunity was always taken of making tea and coffee, and partaking
of this with the inevitable jam and biscuits. The horses, too, had a
good feed of oats, which were served out in the morning and carried in
our nosebags. Captain Noblett got a nasty touch of the sun two or
three days before arriving at Middelburg, and the doctors decided that
he ought to go into hospital there, being quite unfit to continue on
the march. We were very sorry to lose him, as he was one of our most
popular officers. Speaking for No. 2 Section B Company, anyhow, I know
they swore by him to a man. We heard afterwards that he had gone to
Durban for a change, and it is to be hoped he will soon be back again
with us. The fourth day’s march brought us in contact with General
Hutton’s line of communications, and we were apprised of the
annexation of the Transvaal. With this good news we buoyed ourselves
up, and brought a dreary march to a close at Wonderfontein. The Boers
are whimsical at names, but have surpassed themselves with
Wonderfontein, for the wonder of it is where to find the fountain?
Speculation was rife, as the pools of water we saw were so putrid that
the horses, though they had done thirteen miles from the last
halting-place, would not drink till accident disclosed a tiny spring
in a bed of sand, just deep enough to fill a coffee cup at a time.
Here was the wonder, and, _eureka_! we had struck it. The 5th was an
eventful day, for when we had marched eastward three miles a heliogram
from a contingent of 90 Canadians on the line of communications
solicited help, as they were hard pressed by 300 Boers near Pan
station, where they had been fighting since daybreak. Files about and
canter was the order, and we went back some six miles to their aid,
but the enemy had beaten a retreat after capturing a small post, where
they crept up through a dense fog and surprised the helpless picket.
We returned to Wonderfontein, and General Mahon, in consideration of
the call made on us, very generously ordered an issue of a quarter of
a pound of bully-beef and a biscuit. ’Twas lunch _à la South Africa_,
and much appreciated. Thus refreshed we continued on our march for
some five or six miles, and camped for the night. Such a night we have
never had. The wind blew a perfect hurricane, and it was bitterly
cold. On the 6th the brigade reached Carolina, and we were in
expectation of seeing a town where we could renew our diminished stock
of provisions, but, alas! Carolina in Africa is very different from
the Carolina of the song—

South Carolina is a sultry clime,
Where the niggers work in the summer time,
Massa in the shade would lay,
While we poor niggers work all day.

With us it was not summer time, but Massa had to lie on the bleak
veldt and pretty hungry too. We found General French in camp near by
us, with two brigades. A foreign commando of Austrians and Italians
was said to be in the neighbourhood, and we hoped to become better
acquainted with it later on.

Carolina is a small uninteresting sort of place, more a village than
anything else, the houses being small and built of corrugated iron. It
is about the windiest place I have ever been in. We were there nearly
a week, and it blew a hurricane almost all the time. One day it rained
as well, and this made it horribly cold—the chilly blast cutting into
one like a knife. Even the hardy Cape ponies, who had never before in
their lives known what it was to be blanketed, had to be covered up
that day.

Another of the charms of this delightful place is that it is most
dangerous to send horses out grazing on the surrounding veldt, as
there is a low poisonous bush which grows pretty plentifully on it, to
eat which is almost certain death. We found this out by bitter
experience, losing four or five horses before we left.

The first march from Carolina took us over a ridge by Nelspruit, where
we witnessed a very pretty engagement. The enemy had taken up a
position on top of a hill crossed by three deep ravines at right
angles to our line of advance. This was stormed by the Suffolk
Infantry while we acted as escort to the guns, which shelled the enemy
severely as they left the shelter of the last ridge. When turned out
of their last stronghold they retired by ones and twos under severe
shrapnel fire at 1,500 yards’ range, which gave us an object-lesson in
Mounted Infantry tactics. At Carolina, with General French and his
Cavalry, we halted two days, and resumed our advance on Sunday the
9th. We had heard that the Boers were in the vicinity, and it was not
long before we met them. For about six miles we marched across the
absolutely flat veldt, and then with extraordinary suddenness the
scene changed, and we found ourselves among steep and rugged hills.
Here was ideal country for the Boers to fight in, and they speedily
let us know of their presence. They had taken up a strong position
among rocks and piled-up boulders on the further side of a hollow some
3,000 yards across. ‘Lumsden’s,’ together with a part of a squadron of
the 18th Hussars who, like ourselves, had been unable to get remounts
in Pretoria, so that their numbers were reduced about 60 per cent.,
were escorting the guns. M Battery R.H.A. swung ‘action front’ and had
opened fire in next to no time, the whole battery and also two
15-pounders being placed in line along the ridge and all pounding away
at the rocky kopje, or rather series of kopjes, from which the Boers
were firing at our Infantry (the Suffolk Regiment), who now opened
out, and, advancing to within good rifle range, took what cover they
could find and engaged the enemy. It was a grand sight watching the
play of the guns, and cheer after cheer rang through the lines as each
shot fell in rapid succession right in among the Boers, scattering
them like startled sheep. The guns did splendid work; the range was
accurate, and the shells perfect. But a grander sight still was to
watch Tommy advancing: he does it in a most casual way, with his rifle
slung at ease over his shoulder. You see individuals in khaki
stumbling over rocks and boulders, then a thin line of khaki in the
distance, then nothing, for Tommy is resting; the thin khaki line
again becomes visible as he proceeds in the coolest manner in the
world, till the order to fire is given. Nothing is then visible, but
the sounds of volley after volley and independent firing tell you the
Infantry are in the thick of a fight. As the Mounted Infantry advance
through the gaps in their lines, Tommy cheerily calls out, ‘Let ’em
have it ’ot, mate.’ Having placed our horses in a nullah out of the
way of stray bullets—one or two of which came whistling overhead—we
had nothing to do but watch the progress of the fight, and a capital
view we had, especially of our artillery in action; the enemy had no
guns in position here, so our guns could devote themselves to shelling
the rocks among which the Boers were lying; the boulders afforded them
excellent cover, and they stuck to it exceedingly well. The weak point
in their position lay in the fact that the cover of which they had
taken advantage was half-way down the near side of the slope, so in
the event of their being forced to retire they would have to ride (or
run) up three or four hundred yards of bare hillside before they
topped the ridge. For about five hours the fight continued. By this
time our Infantry had got comparatively close, and the Boers decided
not to wait for them. Suddenly they were seen issuing from the dip
where their horses had been hidden in twos and threes and batches of
various sizes, and scattering up the hillside. With the naked eye one
could see little black dots streaming away in all directions; it
looked for all the world like a disturbed ants’ nest. The guns now
redoubled their exertions, loading and firing all they knew, the
shells dropping in every direction among the retreating Boers. In
retiring they had to go down to the bottom of the dip, where they had
left their horses, and up the slope on the other side—a distance of
about 300 yards, I should say. When once they got to the top of this
slope they were more or less safe, as they could take cover among the
rocks there and get away to the hilly country beyond. But while going
up the slope they were quite exposed to the fire from our batteries.
General Mahon was there in person, giving instructions to the officer
in charge of the guns, which were kept playing on the spot as fast as
the gunners could load and fire. Watching through glasses we could see
three or four bowled over; they must have had an uncomfortable ride
until they topped the ridge, though probably not many were hit, as we
know from our own experience how ineffective even a well-directed
shell fire often is. However, on crossing over we found where one dead
Boer had been hastily buried, also a dead horse and other signs that
our shell fire had not been without results. A long-range 15-pounder
of the Boers now came into action, and for about an hour before
sundown shelled our convoy at extreme range without doing any damage.
Throughout the day the Cavalry had been engaged on our right and had
suffered some casualties. Our brigade had had half-a-dozen or so; one
of the Imperial Yeomanry was killed and two were wounded, and three of
the Imperial Light Horse were wounded.

In the afternoon we advanced and occupied the position previously held
by the Boers, who had retreated some distance. They had a long-range
15-pounder with them, and they treated us to a few shells; but these
went high over our heads, and burst a long way behind without doing
any damage. Shortly after this, as it was getting dark, we camped for
the night. As we were preparing to camp the Boers shelled our convoy
with a Long Tom they still possess, but their shells fell wide and
were harmless. We camped for the night at Buffalo Spruit. The
casualties were nine wounded Scots Greys, one wounded Imperial Horse;
Boers about fifteen killed, wounded unknown. The 10th was an
uneventful day, but on the 11th Lumsden’s Horse supplied an outlying
picket consisting of our entire strength. Through some error the
picket manned the wrong kopje, and as they could not be found next
morning were reported as captured. We turned up, however, late in the
day at the camp on the Komati River, and followed rapidly in the track
of the advancing troops. We were now on half-rations, with De Kaap
Mountains looming before us, the roadway being in places as steep as
one in eight, and the enemy strongly posted along the summit. On the
12th the advance was made at 5.30 A.M., and by 9 A.M. M Battery was
again pounding away.

TRANSPORT DRIVERS

The road to Barberton slopes gradually up from the plains round
Carolina for about 3,000 feet, if I remember right, when it takes a
sudden upward turn for about a couple of miles before reaching the top
of De Kaap Mountains, over which it winds, and then descends again
about 2,000 to 3,000 feet, the town being situated in a hollow
surrounded by hills on all sides. The last bit of a couple of miles or
so is what is called the Devil’s Kantoor. The gradient is about one in
four, as far as I could judge, and this will give some idea of the job
our Generals had to tackle if the Boers elected to hold this place, as
it was reported they were going to do. It was simply an ideal place to
defend, and they were said to have a Long Tom in position—so things
generally looked uncomfortable, to say the least of it. Scouting that
day looked like being an even poorer game than usual. Anything but a
demoralised force would have made a strong stand in such a position.
The main advance was against its front, while the Cavalry executed a
turning movement to the right, with such effect that the position was
gained almost without a shot. The climb was terrific. So bad was it
that 12-pounders only just managed to get up with double teams, and
all the baggage had to be left at the foot of the hill. The troops,
however, pushed on to the top, only to witness a heart-rending sight.
On the range opposite, at about 8,000 yards, was a high laager half a
mile square, a dense mass of cattle and waggons, out of which the
latter were seen streaming away towards Swaziland. Between us and them
lay a deep valley, while the road curving round to the left was
commanded by three guns, rendering serious attack in that direction
inadvisable. The Imperial Light Horse made a gallant attempt to get
round, but were not strong enough. We all looked to see the 6-inch gun
come up and play havoc with the laager, but the naval officer in
command declared his oxen unable to bring the gun up the precipitous
ascent, leaving us the mortification of seeing the enemy escape under
our very eyes. It was some gratification, however, to eventually
capture twenty-five of their ‘buck waggons,’ many thousand sheep, and
some oxen.

By the time we had dragged up our guns and got them into position the
fugitives were out of range, as a few shells sent in their direction
proved; but the captured waggons contained stores of various kinds,
sugar, flour, &c., and this made a welcome addition to our
commissariat, which was running very short of supplies. It took four
days to get the whole of the Transport up the Devil’s Kantoor. During
this time the bulk of the division halted, as they could not move
without supplies.

To form some estimate of the difficulties of transport up these
mountains, I would mention that the Boers were confident that we could
never get our convoy and guns up, for among them the steepest part is
described as a place where, if a leading team of oxen come to a stop
they are hurled back on to the waggon. To clear these mountains in
four days reflects the greatest credit on that much-abused department,
the Transport. Sergeant Power, of Lumsden’s Horse, excelled on the
occasion, for, fearing he could not possibly get the troopers’
blanket-carts up that night, he unloaded the carts and used the mules
with pack saddles, thus enabling Lumsden’s Horse to sleep with
blankets when the rest of the brigade were blanketless, poor fellows!
In such circumstances it needs no telling that we went to sleep
supperless, as our rations were at the foot of the mountain and the
troops on its summit. Directly the road was clear General French with
two Cavalry brigades advanced rapidly, and, leaving the Boers, who
were retreating southwards, alone, he pushed on to Barberton, some
fifteen miles distant. Guided by one of the Imperial Light Horsemen,
he avoided the road down into the plain in which Barberton is situated
(which road—so it is said—the enemy were quite prepared to defend),
and using a bridle-path across the hills, supposed to be impracticable
for horses, he descended suddenly on the town and captured it without
opposition. The enemy were completely surprised and fled, leaving
fifty-seven engines with rolling-stock standing in the station, a
large quantity of stores, and 10,000_l._ in specie. The day following
General French’s occupation of the town a Boer convoy consisting of
fifty waggons walked in under the impression that it was still in
their hands! General Mahon’s brigade, with the Infantry, were left to
guard Homolomo while the convoy came up. The gradient was something
like one in four, so you can imagine what a business it was getting
the heavy waggons up. Twelve and fourteen horses were required to get
the lighter guns up, while the naval gun had eighty oxen harnessed to
it, and many a poor beast fell out and died under the strain. On the
third day we continued our march; all day we were descending,
gradually leaving the hills behind, until we eventually came out into
an enormous plain, the Kaap Valley. Here we halted and waited for the
Transport, who had had another trying day. We had descended 3,000 feet
during the day, and the difference in temperature was most noticeable.
In this part of the country the hot weather is just beginning; the
nights are quite mild and the sun at midday is scorching. On Sunday
the 16th we marched to within a couple of miles of the town and
camped. It is a straggling little place built close under and partly
on the lower slopes of a spur of the Kaapsche Berg. This is a well
watered part of the country, and fruit growing appears to be a paying
industry, Pretoria and Johannesburg being markets where—in normal
times—any quantity of fruit is easily disposed of. On the fruit farms
here we noticed several old Indian friends—viz., plantains,
pineapples, and papiya. When we got into Barberton we found that
General French had gone on towards Komati Poort, on the Portuguese
border, in which direction the Boers had fled, and we heard shortly
afterwards that about 3,000 of them had taken refuge in Lourenço
Marques, having given up their arms and destroyed a number of their
big guns before crossing the border.

TRANSPORT DRIVERS

Barberton is quite an Indian town in many respects. Not only is the
Madrassi native common, but mango, banana, loquat, fig, and other
Indian fruit trees abound. East Africa seems to my mind to be the
Indian coolie’s Eldorado, for not only does he wax fat and opulent,
but he abandons his Indian garb and struts about in that of Western
civilisation. He does not get on well with the Kaffir, but has pushed
himself forward, and now occupies a higher position among white men
than he would presume to in India.

In all other respects, however, Barberton is a very English town, and
owes its origin to the De Kaap Goldfields. It was here that the Boers
housed the women and children who were sent to them from Johannesburg
and Pretoria, and in consequence every house in the town is packed
full of these refugees. It was also at Barberton that the Dorset
Yeomanry and the remaining British prisoners were confined after their
removal from Nooitgedacht; at present the improvised place of
confinement is being used as a prison for the Boers themselves. The
latest official bulletin announces the complete demoralisation of the
Boer army, which is termed a rabble, and speculation is rife as to the
probable date of our disbandment. Last night (22nd) it was announced
in orders that anyone desirous of joining the Pretoria Police at
10_s._ a day could do so at once; the chances of a commission at the
end of three months were held out, but only four names were given in.
The majority intend going to England. A very few have decided to
remain in Africa, while some twenty or thirty, chiefly coffee planters
from Southern India, are returning to India. The summer is on us, and
the days are very hot—102° in the shade. We have no tents, but the
ingenious ones erect a bivouac of blankets supported on posts and
rifles as a shelter from the sun. Yesterday a cricket match was played
between French’s and Mahon’s brigades, resulting in an easy win for
the latter. Sergeant Pratt represented Lumsden’s Horse in Mahon’s
team.

Another correspondent writes:

Besides the usual camp duties, we had to supply outlying pickets and
patrols turn about with the other Volunteers and Regular regiments.
Twenty or thirty of us used to be sent out to a post five or six miles
out in the morning. From these posts we sent out patrols, forage
parties, &c., during the day, and outlying pickets at night. One of
these posts was situated right on the top of one of the hills beyond
the town. It was a tremendous climb, and took most of us at least an
hour to get to it. Lugging blankets, coats, and rations up there was
no joke, and I am glad to say we only had to do it once during our
stay.

There was a beautiful wood, with a nice mountain stream running
through it, about a mile and a half from camp, where we used to send
our horses down to graze and water, and we always took the opportunity
of having a delightful bathe or of washing clothes, at which we were
by this time becoming experts. A daily bath was a luxury we had not
been accustomed to before for months, so we appreciated it
accordingly. After our bath we lounged under the shade of the trees
till it was time to take the horses back to camp again. Grazing guard
in these circumstances was rather a favourite duty, as up in camp it
was fearfully hot, our only protection from the sun being small
blanket shelter tents, which were not really much good. These tents
were made out of two blankets, or a blanket and a waterproof sheet.
The blankets and waterproof sheets served out to the Army have
eyelet-holes on both sides and at the ends, so one can put up a tent
very easily and quickly, all the materials required being a few pegs
(easily cut from an old biscuit-box or from any other wood which may
be obtainable), a little string, and a couple of rifles, these last
forming the supports at either end.

Owing to the great heat, we move the position of our camps once a
week. What with dead horses and cattle the air is absolutely putrid,
and ’tis a precaution most imperative. On the march the foul smells
encountered are terrible, owing to the number of dead horses and
cattle lying on the highway. From Pretoria to Balmoral we passed as
many as two or three hundred carcases in different stages of
decomposition. The very water is often polluted, and considerable
inconvenience is the consequence. In a previous letter I incidentally
mentioned veldt fires, but at the Crocodile River camp it was our luck
to be in the thick of one, and that at midnight. We had made the camp
at sundown, and as darkness set in we were enraptured with the
pyrotechnic display of the surrounding kopjes on fire. It was a
magnificent sight, though awful. By 10 P.M. the camp was hushed in
slumber except for stable pickets, when the wind shifted and blew the
flames towards the camp. Gradually the veldt near us took fire, till
at midnight we were completely surrounded. The roar was appalling,
while myriads of insects filled the air. The situation was one needing
immediate action, as every moment was precious. ‘Stand to your horses
and saddle up,’ were the orders anxiously given. All was confusion—men
hurriedly folding up blankets, &c., Kaffir boys running about
conducting oxen to inspan, bodies of men running towards the fast
approaching flames carrying blankets to beat them down. In the midst
of all a patrol of the 18th Hussars were seen completely cut off from
the camp and surrounded with flaming veldt. A rush was made, and
hundreds of blankets soon cleared a space, and the patrol emerged, the
horses showing every sign of terror. It was an anxious time, but in
half an hour all was safe, and the flames had been successfully
diverted from their course of destruction. Such a fire in the back
veldt it would have been impossible to cope with. On the western veldt
these fires destroy complete herds of cattle annually, and are much
dreaded.

THE LAUNDRY
(_From a sketch by J.S. Cowen_)
]

One day at Barberton four of us were on observation post when four
Boers came along the road; they were immediately challenged and told
to show their passes, which they did; they then sat down to rest
alongside us. One of them, named Meyers, could talk English perfectly,
and when he found we were of Lumsden’s Horse he said he had escorted
one of our fellows from Ospruit to Pretoria a prisoner, and shared two
bottles of whisky. He then told us the Boers knew exactly, when we
were at Spytfontein, how many men went on picket every night, and how
many we were all told. He also said on April 30 the brigade adjutant
rode up within twenty yards of him. He shouted to Williams to
surrender, and he shouted back, ‘I am damned if I do,’ and galloped
off; Meyers fired all his magazine at the English officer, but missed
him. Lieutenant Williams has since been killed at Bothaville.

Barberton was simply crammed with stores of all sorts, the Boers
having used it as a supply depôt for some time past. It was a great
treat being able to get luxuries in the shape of extra sugar, tea,
coffee, sweets, &c., again after such an age, and at reasonable rates
too. Pretoria was entirely denuded of these things, and I remember
hunting without success round the whole town for sugar the day before
we left on our last march. Matches were not to be had there at any
price, whereas here we could buy them at sixpence a dozen boxes. I
think we appreciated these more than anything else. We had felt the
want of them tremendously during the past two or three months. English
tobacco, unfortunately, was unobtainable, so we had to content
ourselves with the Boer variety—a very poor substitute, I think most
of us agreed, though I dare say when one got accustomed to it one
would prefer it. Personally I never want to see or smell the beastly
stuff again.

Barberton itself is a small gold-mining town situated at the bottom of
De Kaap Mountains, and more or less surrounded by hills. On the hills
forming its background are the various mines which were opened out
when gold was first discovered here. Then came the rush of the Rand
mines, and Barberton was left standing. The roads leading to these
mines wind up and round the hillsides, and must have taken months and
months of hard work to complete, I should think. The houses are built
of wood and roofed with corrugated iron for the most part, and are
very small. One wonders how people manage to exist in them in the
summer months, when the temperature is almost if not quite as high as
it is in India, and damp to boot.

It was getting very hot before we left early in October, and the old
familiar limp feeling which began to pervade all ranks brought back
memories of hot weather in India. Barberton is essentially a British
town, and until lately, when the Boers used it as a city of refuge for
their wives and families, the inhabitants were practically all British
by blood if not by birth. The community must have been a fairly rough
one in the old days, and one can imagine many wild orgies taking place
among the miners, more or less cut off, as they were, from
civilisation. Fruits of all sorts grow here, Indian as well as
English—plantains, gooseberries, oranges, lemons, strawberries—and
vegetables too. Beautiful oat-hay for our horses was obtainable in the
fields for the first week or so that we were in Barberton.

You will be sorry to hear of the death from enteric fever at
Johannesburg Hospital of Private M. Follett, the elder of the two
brothers—planters—who joined with the Mysore contingent. Since then, I
regret to say, we have had another death from disease—that of Private
J.H. Maclaine (Surma Valley Light Horse), who died of acute pneumonia
in Pretoria Hospital. Transport Driver Martyn some months ago was run
over and badly injured. We are sorry to hear that he has since died of
the injuries he then received. One way and another a good many have
left the regiment. A certain number of those left behind, sick and
wounded, have been unable to rejoin the regiment and have been
invalided home, among them Privates Cooper and Butler, from Madras,
both of whom were taken ill at Kroonstad, the former suffering from
pneumonia and the latter from pleurisy; also Private Bewsher, from
Mysore, who was wounded in the knee at Elandsfontein station two days
before the surrender of Johannesburg.

Our ten days at Barberton gave a welcome rest after many weary
marches. The time was enlivened with dances and hunting with
buckhounds for the officers and cricket for whoever could be spared.
It was here that Colonel Lumsden had his unfortunate accident. He was
riding back in the dark from afternoon tea at a neighbouring camp,
and, being deceived by the light of a picket fire, rode straight into
a nullah. The picket, luckily for him, heard the noise of the fall,
and by the light of a candle went in search, finding horse and man
prostrate. The horse was dead and Colonel Lumsden insensible. The good
fellows, however, did their best, and, taking him up to the fire,
discovered by his badges that he belonged to Lumsden’s Horse. One of
them came into our camp to report, bringing us the information about
11 P.M. The doctor and ambulance immediately proceeded to the scene of
the accident, and, patching him up temporarily, took him away to the
Boer hospital in Barberton. By the light of day it appeared wonderful
that anyone could have escaped death from such an accident. The nullah
may almost be described as a fissure in the ground some 15 feet wide
and 29½(measured) deep. The only thing that saved our Colonel’s life
was that the horse evidently alighted on his feet, taking the brunt of
the fall himself and paying the penalty with his life; this was shown
by the fact that the saddle was not injured in any way.

Colonel Lumsden writes of this incident in a letter from Barberton Hospital dated October 1, 1900:

Well, eight days ago I visited town, and was riding back to my camp at
dusk when my charger, a splendid paced and mannered Cape horse, simply
cantered right into a donga 30 feet deep, breaking his neck in the
fall, while I lay by his side bruised and insensible.

Luckily for me, some pickets were close by and heard the smash.
Recognising me by my badge, they went to my camp and brought our
doctor and adjutant to the spot. They took me to our camp for
treatment, and in a few hours’ time our doctor, with the assistance of
troopers who volunteered to carry the stretcher, conveyed me into the
Barberton Club, the temporary Boer hospital, ours being both full up.
The Boer doctor and nurses have been kindness itself to me, and have
done everything in their power to make me comfortable. How I escaped
with my life my usual good luck only knows. I was bashed, cut, and
bruised, but not a limb or a bone broken. Four days ago I nearly
snuffed out from a flow of blood from my nose and mouth, but
fortunately it was stopped in time, and I really believe did me good,
as I had too much blood in my system. Now, more than enough about
myself. I am on the right track, and hope to be with my men in a few
days more. I follow on with the hospital train the day after
to-morrow, and pick them up at Machadodorp, for which place they leave
to-day. There we pick up Captain Beresford with 100 of my men. They
stayed at Pretoria a day beyond us to get remounts, came on with my
friend General Cunningham’s Infantry Division, and were never able to
rejoin us, we being in advance with General Mahon’s Mounted Brigade.

Months afterwards, Colonel Lumsden, by the following tribute, showed that he had not forgotten those who had tended him with so much care:

To incidents which I have already related of kindly treatment at the
hands of Boer doctors and nurses I may add another of which I was on
this occasion the recipient. I awoke the morning after my serious
accident feeling very stiff and sore, and found myself lying in the
general ward amid wounded Tommies and Boers. I must have been
insensible for nearly twelve hours. Next day Dr. Powell, our
regimental doctor, wished to remove me to one of our own hospitals,
but Dr. Bidenhamp, the Boer doctor, offered to give me a small room to
myself if I remained, which I gratefully accepted, and could not have
wished for better care or attention than I received at his hands and
those of his assistant, Mr. E.E. Haumann. I have also to thank very
gratefully Sister Alma Meyer, of Grosvenor House, Stellenbosch, for
the kindly treatment she accorded me, as well as two Dutch sisters
from Holland who were assisting her in the hospital and acting nobly
to Briton and Boer alike; and I take this opportunity of acknowledging
with sincere thanks their careful treatment and kindness to me during
the ten days I was their patient.

Ruling passions are strong even when one is at death’s door, and I
cannot help recalling a sporting bet I had with my kind friend Sister
Alma. It took the usual shape of a bet with a woman—gloves—and I laid
her a dozen pairs to nothing that the war would be over by Christmas,
which not only I but many high in authority fully believed it would.
We were passing Durban on our way back to India during the second week
in December, and, taking the then situation, I looked upon my bet as
lost and bailed up. One of my subalterns, who was landing there to
return to the seat of war, kindly carried out my commission, and
forwarded the gloves to the winner, from whom I received a prompt
acknowledgment, with the usual remark that women are always right, and
I believe they are! At least, I never attempt to contradict them, and
yet I am a bachelor.

Colonel Lumsden being in hospital, and debarred, therefore, to his regret, from leading the corps in a march for which it had already been detailed, Major Chamney took temporary command, and a few days later received orders to hand over horses and proceed by train to rejoin the other detachment under Captain Beresford at Machadodorp. This uneventful stage of the campaign is thus described by the correspondent of an Indian paper serving with Lumsden’s Horse:

Prior to this the Imperial Light Horse had left Mahon’s brigade, and
we heard that they too expected to be disbanded shortly. General Mahon
made them a speech before they left, praising them highly for the good
work they had done while with him, and saying how sorry he was to part
with them.

On October 1 we handed over nearly all our horses to the New
Zealanders, keeping only such of them—four or five, if I remember
right—as had been brought from India and come right through the whole
show. Four others also were kept for the doctor’s cart, the horses he
had before being played out. But the experiment did not turn out a
success, as the first time they were put into harness they bolted and
there was a general smash-up. The leaders broke away and vanished into
space, and were never seen by us again; and the wheelers got mixed up
in the traces and upset the cart, damaging it hopelessly in their
struggles to get free. The doctor was thenceforth cartless, I think,
and the implements of his trade had to be carried in one of the
Transport carts.

After giving over our horses we were marched into town, and camped
close to the station for the night. The Transport, with the heavy
luggage and led horses, were to leave next day by road for
Machadodorp, for which place we too were bound. The rest of the
regiment, under Captain Beresford, had been stationed there for some
time. Next morning we proceeded to the station and loaded our saddle,
baggage, and a few of our small Transport carts into open trucks, into
which we ourselves afterwards scrambled, the train moving off
immediately. There was not overmuch room, but we were not particular,
and this did not very greatly bother us. After proceeding about
sixteen miles we had to get out and walk to Avoca, a railway station
about three miles further on, as, owing to the Boers having smashed up
a bridge here, the train was unable to get across. Waggons were
awaiting us, into which we loaded the baggage, &c., also making use of
the Transport carts we had brought with us.

On arriving at Avoca we heard that an accident had occurred further up
the line, and we should not therefore be able to go on till next day.
We camped in the open, and spent a wretched night, as it rained
incessantly, and by daybreak everything was sopping wet. Hearing next
morning that we would not be leaving for some hours, several of us
foraged round and found an empty hut, in which we took shelter, as the
rain still continued, and made ourselves very fairly comfortable.
There was any amount of firewood about, so we were able to semi-dry
our blankets, &c. When the train came in at midday it was found that
there was not room for more than about fifteen of us, besides the
saddles, baggage, and Transport carts.

At Kaapmuiden we got on to the main line from Komati Poort to
Pretoria. This junction presented a really woeful sight. The Boers had
evacuated the place in great haste, throwing away stores, &c., galore,
principally large quantities of flour, which had been rendered useless
by sprinkling it with kerosine, making it smell horribly and totally
unfitting it for consumption. Whole trains had been burned as they
stood on the lines, and an idea of the terrible conflagration may be
gathered from the fact that the rails under the wheels were buckled
down by the terrific heat.

Captain Taylor, in one of his amusing reminiscences, pays a tribute to the work done by Infantry soldiers:

Tommy certainly is the most wonderful all-round man, and quite
prepared to do anything he’s asked. A whole company of Infantry being
converted into mounted troops by such an order as ‘A company of ——
Regiment will be Mounted Infantry’ was at one time quite usual, but
they were fair troops in a month. One saw him making bridges and
diversions for the same with the old jokes and quaint oaths; or doing
butcher, baker, slaughterer, tailor, bootmaker, farrier, and all the
thousand-and-one things he is taught. But he fairly surprised me at
Barberton.

There we had suddenly arrived with a division of Cavalry ‘in the air.’
Within a week we had sent our Cavalry as far as Kaapmuiden—the point
where the Barberton branch line meets the main one from Pretoria to
Komati Poort. Our Infantry had repaired the numerous bridges and
culverts, and we were entrained and taken back to Machadodorp by
train. Every station-master was a junior British officer, the
pointsman Tommy, engine-driver Tommy, who also worked the telegraphs,
was stoker, bridgemaker, platelayer, wheelgreaser, &c. There were a
few accidents, but not many, and a smash was only a joke. No wonder we
are hard to beat.

The trooper correspondent did not look at things quite in that light, but perhaps he was travelling less luxuriously, and the humorous side of the situation did not strike him so forcibly:

It was raining all the time, so things generally were not at all
cheerful, and the prospect of travelling for several hours in open
trucks under these conditions did not help to raise our spirits.
However, it was not so bad after all, as we stretched a huge tarpaulin
propped up with sticks, rifles, and boxes, over the truck we were in,
which was piled up to the top with the baggage, and managed to keep
the rain out in this way. The rest of us were to follow on by the next
train. We even managed to get up a game of whist, and this, with the
perusal of such literature as we had with us and occasional snoozes
helped to pass the time. We stayed that night at Crocodile Poort
station, it not being considered safe to travel after dark. It stopped
raining at 10 P.M., so, getting out of the truck, we built a huge fire
and dried our blankets and boiled the inevitable coffee. We slept in
the open, as it was quite fine then; but the dew was so heavy during
the night that everything got sopping wet again by the morning. We
started again at 9, but made very slow progress, as we had long waits
at various stations on the way.

From there to Machadodorp is a most interesting and beautiful country.
The line runs between two precipitous ranges quite Swiss in their
magnificence, with a river running between the hills. Then to Waterval
Onder, where the ordinary rails gave place to a cogwheel line up a
steep climb.

We left again at 8 A.M. the following day, and passed through very
fair scenery between that place and the next station, Waterval Boven.
High overhanging kopjes on one side, along the bases of which the line
ran, with a deep sort of cañon between, the Crocodile River flowing
along its bottom, and a large square turret-like rock looking
commandingly from the other. In one place the train ran quite close to
the ‘cliff,’ as in the Darjiling Himalayan Railway in India, and
almost under a huge mass of overhanging rocks. There are deep fissures
in these rocks in many places, and they look as if they might get
loosened and overwhelm us at any moment. We were told that in the
rains sentries are posted at this place night and day to give timely
warning should there be any signs of the rocks shifting. The incline,
too, is very steep here, and only a few trucks at a time can be taken
up. In our case eleven trucks were sent up at first, two engines being
put on, one in front and the other behind. To prevent slipping, the
hindermost engine had the usual cog-wheel arrangement working on a
centre rail. Shortly after leaving Waterval Onder you get into a
tunnel about a hundred yards long, I think. It is absolutely
unventilated, so it can be imagined that the smoke from the engines,
which, seated as we were in open trucks, simply poured down our
throats and up our noses, very nearly suffocated us.

We stayed at Waterval Boven till 5 P.M., and then went on to
Machadodorp, where we found the rest of the regiment, which was
encamped there, under Captain Beresford. They had marched to this
place from Belfast, where Lord Roberts inspected them. Here we were
greatly undeceived. Instead of going on down country for home, as we
expected, we received orders to equip, and furthermore to leave the
old brigade we were so fond of under General Mahon, and join General
French’s column in General Dickson’s brigade.

The men of Lumsden’s Horse arrived in the midst of a very heavy
hailstorm. Like all true soldiers, they were ready to make a jest of
discomfort, and seeing the company commander, whose name happened to
be Jim, as he crawled under the shelter of his _tente d’abri_, they
struck up the then popular music-hall chorus:

O lucky Jim,
How I envy him!

Colonel Lumsden was at this time speculating on the chances that his corps might soon be ordered home, and in a letter to Sir Patrick Playfair, written while still in hospital, he says:

Ever since we entered Pretoria on June 5 and marched through it to
Irene it has been even betting that the war might end any day or keep
on with this kind of guerilla fighting till Christmas. It looks very
like the latter now. I have discussed the matter frequently, while
lying in my bed here, with Colonel Wools-Sampson, commanding the
Imperial Light Horse, and Colonel Craddock, commanding the Australian
contingent, both in Mahon’s brigade with myself. They fully hold my
opinion that, although this unexpected delay comes harder on the
Volunteer personally than was anticipated when he joined, yet it was
all in the bargain. I also assure the men that Government looks upon
the Colonial Volunteer movement as much too big a factor in this
crisis to be ignored or undervalued, and that not one day beyond what
is actually necessary shall we be kept in harness in this country.
There is no doubt that the complete pacification or subjugation of
this huge Colony is a much bigger question than we soundly tackled at
the start, or were prepared to face. De Wet and Botha are harder nuts
to crack than we imagined. I am extremely proud of and pleased with
the doings of the corps, and I feel sure it has been worthy of its
Honorary Colonel and its many friends and supporters in the land we
hail from. How kind Lord Roberts has been to us and to me personally I
can hardly state here.

Our good fortune in the way of obtaining commissions in the Regular
forces speaks volumes on this point, besides other civil appointments
already granted, to say nothing, I hope, of others in store when we
disband. As regards the Transvaal Police, which a number of my men
were keen to join when it started in June, I distinctly said, ‘_No_,
until we are disbanded. If Government would say “Disband,” then I’ll
do my best for you with commissions, &c.; but until then, _No_.’ The
terms were 10_s._ per diem, horse allowance, and rations. Of course
these were tempting to men playing a hard game on 1_s._ 2_d._ per day,
but Government soon stopped enrolment, the New Zealand Government
having declined to let their Volunteers join. I hear it is being
opened again to a small extent, mostly for mechanics, but these are
not the class I’ve got. What they mean really to do is to make the
Transvaal and Orange River Police the soldiers of the immediate
future, and take all the suitable Volunteers they can to back it up. A
right good plan too, and I fancy they are only waiting for the
opportune moment to do so.

As regards funds, I feel sure we shall end up well. I never lose a
chance of buying little extras for the men in the way of Boer tobacco
and tinned milk.

Any quantity of the stores for officers went astray, and heaps were
given away to the men, &c. I can truly assure you the officers will
not make much out of the hunt!

I don’t know what my movements will be—Calcutta or London, depending
on that of the corps. At one period our orders were the latter, to be
in the Colonial Volunteer Inspection by the Queen, but I fear it is
too late in the day for that to come off, and that it will now be
Calcutta direct for all that remain of us. Well, as you know, it is
hard to beat in the cold season, and always enjoyable to me, so I
don’t mind.

So ended the experiences of Lumsden’s Horse under Brigadier-General Mahon’s command. They had been with him two months in circumstances that try the mettle of men, whether officers or privates, and their devotion to him had increased day by day. In camp or in action he was always the same, never worrying himself or harassing his men. On the contrary, he more than once gave up his own rough shelter in a deserted house or hut so that his troops might have firewood for cooking their scant rations of tough mutton or horseflesh. Their confidence in him was unbounded because they said he never got them into a tight place without knowing how to get them out again; and they would have followed him anywhere. That was the feeling of all ranks in the brigade for their General. His confidence in them was equally firm. In a letter which the Editor has permission to quote, that distinguished leader writes: ‘Lumsden’s Horse served with me for some months, and a better lot of men and officers could not be found.’

A HALT ON THE MARCH TO BARBERTON:
GENERAL MAHON AND COLONEL WOOLS-SAMPSON
(_A Snapshot by the Editor_)
]