There were so many events of importance during the month of July 1901 that
there is great difficulty in choosing the right material from Hansie's
diary.
No
wonder that that period seems to have been in a state of chaos, for the
things to which we attached the greatest importance "ended in smoke," and
seemingly small incidents assumed gigantic proportions before the glorious
spring broke over the country.
Hansie was busy preparing for her tour of inspection through the Camps,
though to tell the truth she rather dreaded it, because she was far from
strong, but she realised that this was an opportunity not to be despised.
General Maxwell frequently impressed it on her that she was the only
exception, that no one else who had applied for leave to visit the Camps had
been granted permits—it was against the regulations, and he was only sending
her because he knew he could depend upon her. He wanted to know the truth,
and she, with her knowledge of the country and people, would be better able
to draw up reports than any one else he knew.
Very flattering, but Hansie's heart sank when she thought of Irene.
What awaited her on this tour?
On
July 27th, when she paid him her last visit in connection with her
passports, he asked her, as she was on the point of leaving him, whether she
did not think the Boers ought to surrender now.
Now, Hansie had firmly made up her mind not to be drawn into argument with
him again, but this question took her so much by surprise that she flared
out with:
"Don't you think the English ought to give in? Why should the Boers give in?
We are fighting for our own, and England is fighting for what belongs to
another. Why should England not give in?"
With some asperity he answered:
"I
suppose it is a question of 'Eendracht maakt Macht,' or whatever you call
it."
"Eendracht
maakt Macht?" she exclaimed. "I really fail to see the connection."
"Well," he answered, "isn't Might Right all the world over?"
"No, indeed!" she cried vehemently. "Might is right in England, and your
motto is an apt one, but in South Africa might is not right. Our motto, 'Eendracht
maakt Macht,' means 'Unity is Strength.'"
The General seemed much surprised and did not look pleased at her assurance
that he had been misinformed as to the correct translation—he had been told
on "good authority" that the Boer motto was the same as the English.
"If might had been right," she continued, "the war would have been over long
ago—our poor little forces would have been crushed—but unity is glorious
strength, an inspired strength."
Alas, alas, that she was so soon to find out how a want of unity can bring
disaster and defeat!
"It is very stupid to argue with him. Surely he cannot expect to find my
views changing on account of the duration of the war!"
Now, whether this unfortunate conversation had anything to do with the next
developments I do not know. I do not think so, for the Governor was a
broadminded and just man, not to be deterred from his purpose by any small
consideration, but the fact remains that Hansie received a curt note from
him four days later, informing her that he had changed his mind about
allowing her to inspect the Camps, and that all her permits had been
cancelled. No word of apology or regret, but a curt request to return to him
the passports and letters of introduction she had received from him.
"Serves you right," her mother said, "for showing your enemy your hand."
"Oh no," Hansie said, "I am positive that has nothing to do with it; in
fact, I don't believe General Maxwell is responsible for this at all. He is
acting under orders, and if I am not mistaken Lord Kitchener is at the
bottom of it. He has put down that awful foot of his, mother, and there is
nothing more to be done."
"Perhaps"—Mrs. van Warmelo looked grave—"perhaps they have found out
something. I have often wondered at finding myself still at large after the
commotion made about the petitions and the report of the Consuls. I can't
forget how critical things seemed to me when three Consuls came to Harmony
late at night, while you were at Irene, to warn me that the whole detective
force was on the track of the petitioners. Poor Mr. Cinatti was frightfully
excited and said that it was his duty to see that his petitioners' names did
not become known. He warned me that everything would be done to find us out,
traps would be set for us, and he advised me, if ever any one came to
Harmony and said that my name had been revealed, I was to say No! No!! No!!!
and he danced about the room, striking his left hand with his clenched right
fist at every 'No!'"
Hansie laughed and said, "There is no fear of your being found out. The
petitioners won't talk of that, you may be quite sure, and all the Consuls
are to be trusted."
"What are you going to do about this?" her mother asked, touching the
General's note.
"Oh, I am going to wait a few days to make him 'feel bad' and then, I
suppose, I must return my passports to him."
She waited three days, and then the General's behaviour strengthened her in
her belief that he was not to blame for the shabby way in which he had
treated her.
He
was most penitent, begged her to forgive him for having caused her so much
inconvenience, and said he had been "very weak" in entertaining the idea of
her visiting the Camps.
They talked about certain improvements which Hansie had suggested, and on
which she had intended to lay much stress in her reports.
He
promised that everything in his power would be done to arrest the high
mortality, and, encouraged by his sympathetic attitude, she pleaded for
"poor Middelburg."
"I
have just been told that there were 503 deaths in that Camp during last
month [July]. Can that be possible?"
"I
am afraid it is only too true," he answered, sighing heavily. "The people on
the High Veld are very badly off during this bitter weather."
"Will you allow me to send the warm clothing and blankets which I intended
to distribute in the Camps?" she asked.
"Certainly, the more the better. Every facility will be afforded you in
this."
Hansie felt happier after this conversation with the Governor, more
convinced that something would be done to alleviate the sufferings in the
Camps.
Now, if our heroine had been allowed to carry out her tour of inspection,
she would have been out of "mischief's way" for many months, and much of
what I am about to relate would not have taken place at all.
"Fair play is bonny play," and a breach of faith is bound, at some time or
other, to be followed by undesirable consequences.
Hansie made up her mind to serve her country in another, perhaps better way,
and in this she was assisted by the resistless hand of Fate, as we shall see
in the following chapters.
That she was never "caught" is a marvel indeed, for she was most reckless of
danger.
There were a number of intimate and trusted friends with whom she came into
frequent contact, but who had no idea of the work which was being carried on
at Harmony.
To
these friends, however, she went with her "reliable war news" (more
especially news brought into town by the spies, of the Boer victories) when
anything of importance became known, and in time her friends found out that
her news could always be depended upon as reliable indeed, although they had
no inkling of the source whence it had been derived. There was danger of her
becoming altogether too "cocksure," when she was one day pulled up sharply
by the following occurrence:
Captain Naudé was in town again, was, if I remember rightly, under her very
roof, when she visited a man for whom she entertained feelings of great
affection and esteem, with the object of gladdening his heart with news of a
particularly gratifying nature from the front.
He
listened attentively, he asked a number of questions, nodding with the
greatest satisfaction at her direct and definite replies.
"I
must go," Hansie exclaimed suddenly, "I only came in for a few moments. We
have to see some friends off to-night."
"Ah! Just wait a minute, please, will you?"
He
hastened from the room, returning shortly with a parcel which he placed in
her hands without a word.
"What is this?" she asked curiously.
"Five pounds of the best Boer tobacco."
"For me?" in amazement.
He
approached her and whispered in her ear:
"For the spy!"
Hansie fled from that house, laughing as she went, and patting her parcel of
tobacco rapturously.
"Oh, mother, wasn't it funny of him?"
"Yes, but when will you learn to be more careful? Hansie, you are
frightfully reckless. You will not listen to reason, I suppose, until we
find ourselves across the border and Harmony confiscated!"
The Captain was delighted with the present and willingly added the extra
five pounds weight to his cumbrous and heavy burdens.
Somebody, leaving the country for Holland, offered to take documents and
letters from the van Warmelos to the President on condition that they could
guarantee that he would not be "found out."
This offer came at a most opportune moment, for there was information of the
greatest importance to be sent to Mr. W.T. Stead.
For some weeks past Mrs. van Warmelo had been anxious to smuggle through to
him copies of the two petitions to the Consuls and a copy of their report on
the Concentration Camps. For this the White Envelope was not considered
satisfactory enough—the documents were too bulky and the post during those
days not to be depended upon.
The information, therefore, was written on tissue paper (the usual method)
and packed in a small bottle of Dr. Williams's Pink Pills, to be handed to a
relative of Mrs. van Warmelo's in Holland, with instructions that he should
read the contents and forward them without delay to Mr. Stead for
publication in the Review of Reviews.
The "medicine" was faithfully delivered in Holland, but alas! the recipient,
with unheard-of presumption, after having read the documents, decided in his
own mind that they were not of sufficient importance to be published in
London and quietly kept them to himself!
Kept them to himself, at a time when their publication to the world would
have been of inestimable value to the Boers and would perhaps have saved
thousands of lives!
Of
course this breach of trust was not known at Harmony for many months—not, in
fact, until so long after it took place that the war was drawing to a close,
and it was too late to repeat the attempt.
When one thinks that but for one man's indifference to duty the report of
the Consuls would have been published in London at a time when all England
was shaken with the revelations made by Miss Hobhouse and the agitation of
the pro-Boers was at its height, then one cannot help realising the futility
of fighting against Fate.
Not yet had the time of salvation arrived for the victims of the
Concentration Camps—not yet—not until the toll of life had been paid to the
uttermost.
Other schemes for supplying that section of the British public, desirous of
being acquainted with the truth, with trustworthy information from South
Africa, met with greater success, and I relate the following instance for
the sake of the interesting circumstances connected with it, not for its own
sake, for obvious reasons.
Many of my readers will remember the case of Mr. Spoelstra, a Hollander,
which caused such a commotion in the Transvaal during the war.
He
wrote a long letter for publication in Holland on the hardships and
ill-treatment to which the Boer women were subjected in transit from their
farms to the Concentration Camps, by the soldiers (chiefly, I may mention
here, the Canadian Scouts and Australian Bushrangers, who were, however, all
regarded as British soldiers, these distinctions not being sufficiently
clear to the average South African).
This lengthy document Spoelstra confided to the care of a man who was about
to leave for Holland.
On
the borders of Natal, the man, on being cross-questioned by the inspector of
goods, became so confused and agitated that he brought suspicion on himself,
with the result that he was detained while his luggage was thoroughly
overhauled.
The unfortunate letter was found, Spoelstra was arrested and immediately
imprisoned in the Pretoria Jail.
The Dutch Consul, Mr. Domela Nieuwenhuis, on being appealed to, insisted on
a public trial, which was granted after some delay, Spoelstra being allowed
three days in which to procure his witnesses, in Pretoria and in the small
Camp in one of the suburbs, not in Irene.
Notwithstanding the shortness of the time and the restrictions placed upon
him, he succeeded in getting nearly thirty women to give evidence on his
behalf, and at his trial, which was publicly held, revelations of a very
startling nature were made.
The greatest indignation was felt and freely expressed by the Dutch
community when, in spite of having proved his accusations beyond a doubt,
Spoelstra was fined £100 and sentenced to one year's imprisonment.
The fine was immediately paid by his friends.
Now, there was a brave Englishwoman, Mrs. Bodde, married to a Hollander, who
was shortly leaving for England, who offered her services to Mrs. van
Warmelo if the latter wished to make the circumstances of the case known to
Mr. Stead. This was an exceedingly plucky thing to do, for the examinations
on the frontier were much more severe than usual, after the discovery of
Spoelstra's letter. Mrs. van Warmelo therefore promised to take extra
precautions in concealing the articles she wished to send. After a great
deal of trouble she succeeded in getting a full report of the Spoelstra
trial, sixty large pages of closely typed evidence on tissue paper, and with
this valuable material to dispose of Mrs. van Warmelo realised that it would
be necessary to exert the utmost ingenuity.
She asked her friend Mrs. Bodde whether she would be taking a lunch-basket.
Certainly she would.
"Well," Mrs. van Warmelo said, "I will give you something for your
lunch-basket, if you will promise not to open it until you get to London."
She promised, and Mrs. van Warmelo bought a tin of cocoa, a one-pound tin,
unfastened the paper wrapper carefully, then damped the paper round the lid
until it could be folded back without being damaged, removed the lid and
pulled out the paper bag containing the cocoa. This bag she unfastened at
the bottom, shook out fully two-thirds of the cocoa and filled up the empty
space with the tightly rolled packet containing the documents, replacing the
whole in the tin, cocoa side up, of course, and pasting down the paper
wrapper over the lid to make it look like new.
Although there was very little cocoa in the tin, it was found to weigh
exactly one pound as before.
Arrangements were then made with Mrs. Bodde for her future correspondence on
the subject with Mrs. van Warmelo, and in due time the latter received a
note from Mrs. Bodde announcing her safe arrival in London and saying that
her friend Mrs. Brown (Mr. Stead) had received her (the documents) with open
arms. She was not going to live in Mrs. Brown's house as she had intended
(the documents would not be published in the Review of Reviews), but she was
going into a house of her own (they would appear in pamphlet form).
This was good news indeed, and now my readers know how it came about that
the sensational Spoelstra case was published in London in pamphlet form (in
three successive pamphlets, for the evidence was found to be too bulky for
one) during the war. The first pamphlet reached Harmony in safety through
the post, the second and third, though duly dispatched, failed to reach
their destination, but nobody at Harmony minded. The great object had been
achieved.
Hansie, going to the post one day, took out of her letter-box a small flat
book, addressed to "Mrs. Wentworth, Box 56."
She was about to throw it back into the Post Office, with "not 56" scribbled
on it, when her eyes fell on the English postmark, Tunbridge Wells, and she
stayed her hand in time.
Tunbridge Wells was the address of the brave Englishwoman, the great
pro-Boer, and the package when opened was found to contain a copy of
Methuen's Peace or War in South Africa, which was first "devoured" at
Harmony and by other people in Pretoria and was then sent out to the
commandos by the spies, to be read and reread by the burghers until there
was nothing left of it except a few tattered pages.
Soon after the publication of the Spoelstra case there was some excitement
in Pretoria about the appearance in the Westminster Gazette of a long
article on the Irene Concentration Camp. The writer, who gave each detail
with great accuracy, seemed to have personal knowledge and experience of the
Camp, and it was not surprising that Hansie should have been taxed with it
on every side.
The Consuls spoke to her direct, advising her to be more careful of her
facts, and Mr. Cinatti, when she assured him of her innocence (?), said with
huge delight, in his funny, broken English:
"Never mind, my dear little sing, you need not confess to us—but are you
good at guessing riddles?"
"Not particularly."
"Well, dis one won't trouble you much. What is dis? It is small and oblong
and white, and it was laid by a hen?"
"An egg," Hansie answered innocently.
He
shouted with laughter.
"Are you sure?"
"Of course."
"Well, we are just as sure dat Miss van Warmelo wrote dat article. And if
you want to see your work in print I'll bring it round dis very afternoon."
"I
should like very much to see it," she replied.
That afternoon, just before Mr. Cinatti was expected, Gentleman Jim killed a
big snake in his room, and Hansie, thinking to give her funny friend a
fright for misdoubting her word, "arranged" the corpse on the steps of the
front verandah, hiding the mutilated head under the leaves of the violet
plants.
But the Consul came late, and other visitors before him heralded their
arrival by shrieks and jumps, to the great delight of the mischievous girl.
"You are a very pranky little sing," Mr. Cinatti said, flourishing the
Westminster Gazette before her eyes, "and den you want us not to believe dat
you wrote dis."
And indeed, when Hansie glanced through the article, she found it difficult
to maintain that she had not written it, for there were all her "pet" cases
of overcrowding and underfeeding, her statistics, and the very terms she was
in the habit of using when speaking of the volunteer nurses. She called them
a "set of agitators," in sarcastic imitation of the Commandant's favourite
expression.
The only explanation to the affair could be that Mr. Stead, or perhaps Mrs.
Bodde, had made use of the facts contained in one of Hansie's smuggled
letters, and in that case she could naturally be held responsible. She was
advised by loving friends to keep her boxes ready packed for a speedy
departure, "for when the warning comes you will not be allowed much time to
pack."
But she disregarded all warnings, except to take extra precautions for the
safety of her diary.
