We went in a very different
direction from that of General Ben Viljoen's commando, which took the road
to Pietersburg through Leydsdorp. President Steyn celebrated the anniversary
of his birthday at Roossenekal, and addressed us in the same spirit as on
the former occasion at the Sabie.
Roossenekal is famous for its caves,
or grottos, in which the Mapochers hid themselves so well during the Mapoch
War. We made use of the opportunity to visit the grottos, of whose formation
I should like to know more. What appeared on the outside to be an ordinary
hill proved a most wonderful natural building containing many rooms. The old
kraal walls and the peach-trees and 'Turkish figs', (prickly-pears),
overgrown by wild trees, and an occasional earthen vessel, were the remains
of the Kaffir city. Of course we cut our names into the rocks by way of
becoming immortal. We could not help speaking with great admiration of the
wild Kaffir tribe who from such a hiding-place fought for months for a life
of independence. We had no time to visit the grottos further away.
Although our horses were well fed
during this time of rest, they profited little, on account of the constant
cold rains that fell. We fortunately still had some tents, that we used only
in case of rain. Our Commandant was still always in doubt whether to proceed
to Pietersburg, for we were quite ignorant of the enemy's movements during
the last few weeks. Later on, when he got the information that the enemy
were stationed at Pinaars River bridge, and that we could not with safety
pass Warmbad and Pinaars River, we had to turn off at Kobaltmyn to the right
to cross Olifants River lower down. We had already passed Kobaltmyn in the
beginning of July on our journey after General de la Rey. The latter part of
our journey, along Olifants River, through Zebedelsland to Pietersburg, was
exhausting for man and horse. Some of us often had nothing but a little rice
and a small piece of meat for several days in succession. There was scarcely
any grass for our horses, and yet we had to ride hard night and day.
After a tiring journey of fully a
month, President Steyn's commando arrived at Pietersburg on October 11.
Although we had always intended to follow President Steyn to De Wet, my
brother and I, with Malherbe, now accepted an invitation from my uncle,
Ignace Mare, to stay awhile on his farm at Marabastad. President Steyn left
with his commando for Nylstroom. Our horses were worn out, and could not
follow the commando. Most of the men had a spare horse that was still in
good condition, and although my brother and I had only one horse apiece, we
often had to do the hardest work.
My aunt and uncle did their best to
make our stay a pleasant one, and our horses were well fed. Soon General Ben
Viljoen's commando arrived at Marabastad, and stayed there a few weeks, so
that we also experienced the discomfort arising from a lager camped on one's
farm. The Boer is deprived by it of all necessaries, and all sorts and
conditions of men constantly visit his house. Some of them, the riff-raff of
the commando, are very unwelcome guests, for they do much mischief
intentionally, and thereby give the commando a very bad name. The poles to
which the wire is attached for camping at a farm were yet left undamaged.
The burghers were still accustomed to get plenty of dry wood in the
Boschveld, and were not yet so demoralized as to work damage without
scruple.
We stayed at my uncle's far longer
than we at first intended. My saddle had chafed the horse's back so severely
that I could not ride it for several months. My brother got an attack of
malaria, and just as he was recovering had a relapse, so that President
Steyn was so far in advance of us that there was no question of overtaking
him.
The commando had already left
Marabastad when we started for Tweefontein, near Warmbad, on our now strong,
sleek horses. There we joined Commandant Kemp, of the Krugersdorp commando,
under Wyk III., who had parted from Ben Viljoen at Marabastad because the
latter had on a Sunday afternoon during service fired off several
cannon-shots for the edification of a few fast women.
Malherbe, my brother, and I formed a
sort of comradeship under Corporal Botman--or, to put it simply, we were
'chums.' At Warmbad we heard many interesting things about the khakies, who
had stayed there nineteen days on their hunt after De Wet. We could not
understand why they destroyed the bathing-houses, unless it were to deprive
our wounded of the chance of recovery.
The condition of the people in
Zoutpansberg and in Waterberg, where the enemy had been, was not very
cheerful. Everyone complained that there was no sugar to be had, that the
meal was getting low, and that soon there would be no clothes. Pietersburg
was exhausted by the commandos, and the courage of the inhabitants was
nearly at an ebb. They would not yet make the sacrifice that would part them
from their families. The enemy had not yet driven them to despair by the
destruction of their fields and goods.
Every sensible person knew that the
Republics would lose in the long-run in a guerilla war unless something
unforeseen happened. At the time that we fled from Pretoria my mother said
she would have hope as long as her 'gorillas' remained in the veld. Even if
we clung to a straw, the possibility always remained that things might take
a favourable turn as long as a fair number of burghers remained in the veld.
The burghers from the different
districts now in Waterberg were earnest and full of courage. Noticeable
changes for the better had been made. Beyers, a man in whom the men had the
utmost faith, was made Assistant-Commandant-General, and was to lead a
commando of 1,500 horsemen from Waterberg, Zoutpansberg, Krugersdorp, etc.,
to the Hoogeveld. The discipline was much stricter. Cooper and Fanie Grobler,
who had been accused of high treason, promised to keep a sharper look-out
for spies and traitors. And we still always hoped for an eventual rebellion
in Cape Colony. That hope was our life-buoy on which we kept our eyes fixed.
We felt that there our safety lay, and the enthusiasm of the commando was
heightened by the desire to celebrate Paardekraal Day in Krugersdorp on
December 15. As a sailor longs for the sea, so we longed for a meeting with
the khakies when we left for the Magalies Mountains in the beginning of
December. Our commando was light and mobile, with provisions for a short
time only. Such heavy cannon as the Long Toms were of no use to us now.
Hence-forward we were to live on the produce of the surrounding country, as
there was no basis from which we were to operate. Besides this, the khakies
very kindly made over some of their provisions, arms, and ammunition to us
in a skirmish or battle, so that afterwards we had more Lee-Metfords than
Mausers in our possession.
At Krokodil River I had the
privilege of seeing how a honey-bird takes a human being to a bees' nest. As
we were lying under a tree, a honey-bird settled close to us. Corporal
Botman followed it as it flew chirping from tree to tree, and called to it
that he was following, until the bird stopped at the hive. The grateful
finder always rewards the bird with a piece of honeycomb that he puts aside
for it. But I have never been able to discover whether the bird or the
insects eat the honey. I know that the 'bug-birds,' that are always seen on
or near cattle, do not feed on the bugs with which the cattle are covered,
but on the locusts that fly about the herd. Last week, when our guards took
us for a walk outside the fort, I noticed that a kind of sparrow in India
has the same trick of catching the locusts that are driven on ahead by the
cattle.
I shall not try to give a
description of the works of the machinery that moved mechanically to the
Magalies Mountains, for I should have to guess at the particulars in this
historical little tale. Mechanical I call the journey, for there were days
and nights in which we were numbed, body and soul, exhausted by hunger and
thirst and want of sleep.
When we were at Bethany, a convoy of
the enemy was seen moving in the direction of Commandonek. When it noticed
our guard, it dragged its curved body with great zeal through the pass. I
think the khakies also must have been bored to death on those long,
fruitless journeys. We left Bethany towards evening, and reached the
Magalies Mountains the following morning after a tiring journey in the night
past Sterkstroom, through the Kromriverskloof to the foot of Onuapadnek, or
Boschfonteinnek. (I learnt the names from the inhabitants.) In the kloof we
passed the burnt remains of the convoy that was taken by Commandant
Boshoff--who joined De la Rey after having taken Steyn to his
destination--and his brave little troop of burghers. They were obliged to
abandon the convoy, however, on the arrival of reinforcements for the enemy.
A sickening stench came from the corpses that they had left unburied in
their flight.
We rested a few hours at the top of
the steep nek. On descending on the other side we came, to our mutual
surprise, upon De la Key's lager at the foot of the mountain on Barnard's
farm.
