<h2>CHAPTER XIV</h2>
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<p>ACROSS THE TRANSVAAL TO PRETORIA DURING THE WAR</p>
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<span style='margin-left: 2.5em;'>"There never was a good
war or a bad peace."—BENJAMIN</span><br/>
<span style='margin-left: 2.5em;'>FRANKLIN.</span><br/>
<br/>
<p>On Sunday morning, June 4, we packed into a Cape cart, with
four siege horses in fair condition, and started to drive to
Zeerust. It was a glorious day of blue skies and bright sun, with
just enough breeze to prevent the noonday from being too hot. As
we left Mafeking and its outworks behind, I had a curious feeling
of regret and of gratitude to the gallant little town and its
stout citizens: to the former for having been a haven in the
midst of fierce storms during all these months; to the latter for
their stout arms and their brave hearts, which had warded off the
outbursts of the same tempests, whose clouds had hung dark and
lowering on our horizon since the previous October. We also
experienced a wonderful feeling of relief and freedom at being
able to drive at will over the very roads which we had seen
covered by Boer waggons, burghers, and guns, and, needless to
say, we marked with interest the lines of their forts, so
terribly near our little town. We noted the farmhouse lately the
headquarters of General Snyman, standing naked and alone.
Formerly surrounded by a flourishing orchard and a carefully
tended garden, it was now the picture of desolation. The ground
was trampled by many feet of men and horses; straw, forage,
packing-cases, and rubbish of all kinds, were strewn about, and
absolutely hid the soil from view. Away on the hill beyond I
spied the tiny house and hospital where I had spent six weary
nights and days; and between these two buildings a patch of bare
ground nearly half a mile square, indescribably filthy, had been
the site of the white-hooded waggons and ragged tents of the
laager itself. The road was of no interest, merely rolling veldt
with a very few scattered farmhouses, apparently deserted; but
one noticed that rough attempts had been made in the way of
irrigation, and that, as one approached the Transvaal, pools of
water were frequently to be seen.</p>
<p>A shallow ditch was pointed out to us by the driver, as the
boundary between Her Majesty's colony and the South African
Republic, and after another eight or ten miles we saw a few white
roofs and trees, which proved to be Otto's Hoep, in the Malmani
Gold District, from which locality great things had been hoped in
bygone days, before the Rand was ever thought of. At the tiny
hotel we found several officers and men of the Imperial Light
Horse, who, warned by a telephone message from Mafeking, had
ordered us an excellent hot lunch. The proprietor, of German
origin, could do nothing but stare at us while we were eating the
meal, apparently amazed at finding his house reopened after so
many months of inactivity, and that people were actually prepared
to pay for what they had. We soon pushed on again, and just after
leaving the hotel a sharp turn brought us to a really wide river,
close to where the Imperial Light Horse were encamped. Our driver
turned the horses' heads towards it, and without any misgivings
we plunged in. The water grew deeper and deeper, and our thoughts
flew to our portmanteaus, tied on behind, which were practically
submerged. Just then the leaders took it into their heads they
preferred not to go any farther, and forthwith turned round and
faced us. The black coachman, however, did not lose his head, but
pulled the wheelers round also, and we soon found ourselves again
on the same bank from which we had started. Had it not been for a
kind trooper of the Imperial Light Horse, our chances of getting
across would have been nil. This friend in need mounted a loose
horse, and succeeded in coaxing and dragging our recalcitrant
leaders, and forcing them to face the rushing stream. Once again
our portmanteaus had a cold bath, but this time we made a
successful crossing, and went gaily on our way. The road was now
much improved and the country exceedingly pretty. Many snug
little houses, sheltered by rows of cypress, tall eucalyptus and
huge orange-trees laden with yellow fruit, their gardens
intersected by running brooks, appeared on all sides; while in
the distance rose a range of blue hills, at the foot of which we
could perceive the roofs of Zeerust.</p>
<p>As the sun was almost sinking, clouds of dust arose on the
road in front, denoting a large body of men or waggons moving. A
few weeks—nay, days—ago these would have been a
burgher commando; now we knew they were our friends, and
presently we met Major Weston Jarvis and his dust-begrimed
squadron of the Rhodesian Regiment, followed by a large number of
transport waggons, driven cattle, and donkeys. This living
testimony that war was still present in the land only disturbed
the peaceful evening landscape till the long line of dust had
disappeared; then all was stillness and beauty once more. The
young moon came out, the stars twinkled in the dark blue heavens,
and suddenly, below the dim range of hills, shone first one light
and then another; while away to the left, on higher ground,
camp-fires, softened by a halo of white smoke, came into view.
The scene was very picturesque. No cloud obscured the
star-bespangled sky or the crescent of the Queen of the Night.
Still far away, the lights of the little town were a beacon to
guide us. The noise and cries of the camp were carried to us on
the gentlest of night breezes, and, to complete the calm beauty
of the surroundings, the deep, slow chime of a church-bell struck
our ears.</p>
<p>We had reached our destination, and were in a few minutes
driving through the quiet little street, pulling up in front of
the Central Hotel, kept by a colonial Englishman and his wife.
The former had been commandeered twice during the war, but he
hastened to assure us that, though he had been at the laager, and
even in the trenches before Mafeking, he had never let off his
rifle, and had given it up with great pleasure to the English
only the day before. This old-fashioned hostelry was very
comfortable and commodious, with excellent cooking, but it was
not till the next day that we realized how pretty was the town of
Zeerust, and how charmingly situated. The houses, standing back
from the wide road, were surrounded by neat little gardens and
rows of cypresses. Looking down the main street, in either
direction, were purple, tree-covered hills. A stream wound its
way across one end of the highway, and teams of sleepy fat oxen
with bells completed the illusion that we had suddenly been
transported into a town of Northern Italy or of the Lower
Engadine. However, other circumstances contributed to give it an
air of depression and sadness. On the stoeps of the houses were
gathered groups of Dutch women and girls, many of them in deep
mourning, and all looking very miserable, gazing at us with
unfriendly eyes. Fine-looking but shabbily-clad men were to be
met carrying their rifles and bandoliers to the Landrost's late
office, now occupied by Colonel Plumer and his Staff. Sometimes
they were leading a rough-coated, ill-fed pony, in many cases
their one ewe lamb, which might or might not be required for Her
Majesty's troops. They walked slowly and dejectedly, though some
took off their hats and gave one a rough "Good-day." Most of them
had their eyes on the ground and a look of mute despair. Others,
again, looked quite jolly and friendly, calling out a cheery
greeting, for all at that time thought the war was really over. I
was told that what caused them surprise and despair was the fact
of their animals being required by the English: "requisitioned"
was the term used when the owner was on his farm, which meant
that he would receive payment for the property, and was given a
receipt to that effect; "confiscated," when the burgher was found
absent, which signified he was still on commando. Even in the
former case he gave up his property sadly and reluctantly, amid
the tears and groans of his wife and children, for, judging by
the ways of his own Government, they never expected the paper
receipt would produce any recognition. Many of the cases of these
poor burghers seemed indeed very hard, for it must be remembered
that during the past months of the war all their things had been
used by their own Government for the patriotic cause, and what
still remained to them was then being appropriated by the
English. All along they had been misled and misinformed, for none
of their leaders ever hinted there could be but one end to the
war—namely, the decisive success of the Transvaal Republic.
It made it easy to realize the enormous difficulties that were
connected with what was airily talked of as the "pacification of
the country," and that those English officers who laboured then,
and for many months afterwards, at this task had just as colossal
and arduous an undertaking as the soldiers under Lord Roberts,
who had gloriously cut their way to Johannesburg and Pretoria.
Someone said to me in Zeerust: "When the English have reached
Pretoria their difficulties will only begin." In the heyday of
our Relief, and with news of English victories constantly coming
to hand, I thought this gentleman a pessimist; but the subsequent
history of the war, and the many weary months following the
conclusion of peace, proved there was much truth in the above
statement.</p>
<p>Two days later we heard that Lord Roberts had made his formal
entry into Pretoria on June 5, but our journey thither did not
proceed as smoothly as we had hoped. We chartered a Cape cart and
an excellent pair of grey horses, and made our first attempt to
reach Pretoria via the lead-mines, the same route taken by Dr.
Jameson and the Raiders. Here we received a check in the shape of
a letter from General Baden-Powell requesting us not to proceed,
as he had received information that Lord Roberts's line of
communication had been temporarily interrupted. The weather had
turned exceedingly wet and cold, like an English March or late
autumn, and after two days of inactivity in a damp and gloomy
Dutch farmhouse we were perforce obliged to return to our
original starting-point, Zeerust. A few days later we heard that
Colonel Baden-Powell had occupied Rustenburg, and that the
country between there and Pretoria was clear; so we decided to
make a fresh start, and this time to take the northern and more
mountainous route. We drove through a very pretty country, with
many trees and groves of splendid oranges, and we crossed highly
cultivated valleys, with numerous farms dotted about. All those
we met described themselves as delighted at what they termed the
close of the war, and gave us a rough salutation as we went on
our way, after a friendly chat. Presently we passed an open
trolley with a huge red-cross flag flying, but which appeared to
contain nothing but private luggage, and was followed by a man,
evidently a doctor, driving a one-horse buggy, and wearing an
enormous red-cross badge on his hat. At midday we outspanned to
rest the horses and eat our lunch, and in the afternoon we
crossed the great Marico River, where was situated a deserted and
ruined hotel and store. The road then became so bad that the pace
of our horses scarcely reached five miles an hour, and to obtain
shelter we had to reach Eland's River before it became quite
dark. A very steep hill had to be climbed, which took us over the
shoulder of the chain of hills, and rumbling slowly down the
other side, with groaning brake and stumbling steeds, we met a
typical Dutch family, evidently trekking back from the laager in
a heavy ox waggon. The sad-looking mother, with three or four
children in ragged clothes, was sitting inside; the father and
the eldest boy were walking beside the oxen. Their apparent
misery was depressing, added to which the day, which all along
had been cold and dismal, now began to close in, and, what was
worse, rain began to fall, which soon grew to be a regular
downpour. At last we could hardly see our grey horses, and every
moment I expected we should drive into one of the many pitfalls
in the shape of big black holes with which the roads in this part
of the Transvaal abounded, and a near acquaintance with any one
of these would certainly have upset the cart. At last we saw
twinkling lights, but we first had to plunge down another
river-bed and ascend a precipitous incline up the opposite bank.
Our horses were by now very tired, and for one moment it seemed
to hang in the balance whether we should roll back into the water
or gain the top. The good animals, however, responded to the
whip, plunged forward, and finally pulled up at a house dimly
outlined in the gloom. In response to our call, a dripping sentry
peered out, and told us it was, as we hoped, Wolhuter's store,
and that he would call the proprietor. Many minutes elapsed,
during which intense stillness prevailed, seeming to emphasize
how desolate a spot we had reached, and broken only by the splash
of the heavy rain. Then the door opened, and a man appeared to be
coming at last, only to disappear again in order to fetch coat
and umbrella. Eventually it turned out the owner of the house was
a miller, by birth a German, and this gentleman very kindly gave
us a night's hospitality. He certainly had not expected visitors,
and it took some time to allay his suspicions as to who we were
and what was our business. Accustomed to the universal
hospitality in South Africa, I was somewhat surprised at the
hesitation he showed in asking us into his house, and when we
were admitted he claimed indulgence for any shortcomings by
saying his children were ill. We assured him we should give no
trouble, and we were so wet and cold that any roof and shelter
were a godsend. Just as I was going to bed, my maid came and told
me that, from a conversation she had had with the Kaffir girl,
who seemed to be the only domestic, she gathered that two
children were suffering from an infectious disease, which, in the
absence of any medical man, they had diagnosed as smallpox. To
proceed on our journey was out of the question, but it may be
imagined that we left next morning at the very earliest hour
possible.</p>
<p>This very district round Eland's River was later the scene of
much fighting, and it was there a few months afterwards that De
la Rey surrounded an English force, who were only rescued in the
nick of time by the arrival of Lord Kitchener. At the date of our
visit, however, all was peaceful, and, but for a few burghers
riding in haste to surrender their arms, not a trace of the enemy
was to be seen.</p>
<p>The next day we reached Rustenburg, where we stayed the night,
and learnt that General Baden-Powell and his Staff had left there
for Pretoria, to confer with Lord Roberts. Our gallant grey
horses were standing the strain well, and the worst roads as well
as the most mountainous country were then behind us; so, without
delay, we continued on the morrow, spending the third night at a
storekeeper's house at Sterkstrom. Towards the evening of the
fourth day after leaving Zeerust, we entered a long wide valley,
and by degrees overtook vehicles of many lands, wearied
pedestrians, and horsemen—in fact, the inevitable
stragglers denoting the vicinity of a vast army. The valley was
enclosed by moderately high hills, and from their summits we
watched helio messages passing to and fro during all that
beautiful afternoon, while we slowly accomplished the last, but
seemingly endless, miles of our tedious drive. At 5 p.m. we
crawled into the suburbs of the Boer capital, having driven 135
miles with the same horses. The description of Pretoria under
British occupation, and the friends we met there, I must leave to
another chapter.</p>
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