Wednesday, 2nd May.—My 26th birthday! What a strange one, to be sure—not a single word or loving wish from any of the loved ones at home! Still I know the wishes are there all the same. My health is, I think, improving slowly, but I am still taking plenty of rest, and spend most of the day in my bed reading and sleeping. The doctor says that is what I need.
Though runners come in, we get no news. Evidently the Colonel is keeping the news, which is supposed to be chiefly the movements of our relief columns, very quiet. It seems to be the general impression that somewhere about the Queen’s Birthday our relief will be effected. The Boers keep very quiet. They do make a bold attack on our trenches about once a week, but they keep so well out of range that the casualties on both sides are usually nil. Every one goes about the town now in perfect safety; really it only needs the railway to start, and everything will seem as usual. Of course local stocks of goods are running short, and eatables have long ago been commandeered.
The doctor and I get on very well, and my white bread and milk are treats. Medical charges up here are very high, so I suppose I will have a pretty heavy bill to pay when all is over, but he is looking well after me. My pulse will not go over 50, and he says I will have to be very careful for some time.
Friday, 4th May.—News to-day is that Carrington is hurrying as fast as possible to our relief, and all vehicles in Rhodesia, together with animals, have been commandeered to transport the men and provisions from Salisbury to Bulawayo, so we hope that in about three weeks everything should be ready for the column to move in here. I do hope now that no new difficulties will arise, for, if this column cannot relieve us, we will have to surrender. The southern column has again disappeared, so we must rely on Carrington. He knows, I suppose, better than almost any other man the country he has to pass through; therefore, if he keeps cool and does not move too hurriedly, he should succeed. It is not thought that the Boers can spare more men to reinforce their troops here.
You will be pleased to hear that I feel ever so much better to-day, and the doctor seems pleased. All being well, I think that on Monday I will be able to return to the bank and do a little work each day.
From what we can hear, the mails between Salisbury and Bulawayo have been stopped for the time being, and naturally the wires too will be fully occupied by the military authorities, therefore I have given up hope of hearing from you till after our relief.
Monday, 7th May.—Yesterday four times I was on the point of writing, but each time some one came in. In the forenoon I went to church, and to our surprise on coming out we heard the “Pom-Pom” playing somewhere towards the southern fortifications. The Colonel and a number of officers who had been in church at once hurried off to the look-out. I soon heard that the Boers had crept up and swooped off a number of horses and mules belonging to the B.S.A.P., and had killed one of the horse-guard, also a B.S.A.P. man. It turns out that three of the corps were out in charge, but something had taken their attention off the animals for a little, for three natives, sent in by the Boers, crept in and turned out the animals. When these were got well into a trot, a large number of Boers emerged from hiding and fired on the three men who were by this time trying to turn back the horses. The cannon Kopje Maxim opened fire too, but ceased very soon. Some men in the outlying trenches accounted for three Boers. Some of the animals were shot, but the Boers secured about thirty. The Colonel was very angry, for the Boers’ own arrangement was that hostilities should cease on Sundays; therefore, later on, when the Boers, under the “Red Cross Flag,” wanted to pick up one of their wounded men, he gave orders to fire, and then sent out to the General to say that he would not allow them to approach unless they brought a written application from the General to remove their dead or wounded, “For,” said he, “you have broken your own agreement.” They did not reply to this, but it is stated that they crept up in the night-time and carried the man off. Our poor fellow who was killed was buried in the evening.
I am much better, and to-day did a morning’s work. There is a lot to be done, and I must get steadily to work. The end of the siege must be very near now, and the next two weeks should bring about a change.
Seven oxen in splendid condition from Plumer were brought safely through last night.
Wednesday, 9th May.—We have had no news given out for quite a week, but we know that the Colonel has had tidings, and we regard it as a good sign that nothing leaks out. No doubt the tidings refer to the final movements of the relief column. We still enjoy grand weather, and since the rains have ceased, the sickness has abated.
This is really a grand climate, and one day you will all have to come and try it. This siege will, doubtless, put everything back for a long time. However, the war had to come, and matters will be easier settled now than if left for a year or two.
Thursday, 10th May.— Another day gone, and everything very quiet—no news of any description. For the last few days the Boers have been amusing themselves firing “Gentle Annie”—the 5-pounder—into the town. We are just within range and no more, and, as you can hear the shells coming, you have time to get out of the way.
A Committee was formed last evening to draw up a programme for festivities to be held a day or two after our release—they say about the 24th—so the Colonel is pretty sure that relief is really coming this time.
I keep better, and do not feel a morning’s work now. In the afternoon I usually rest and read till about 4.30 when I take a stroll just to work up an appetite for tea! Horseflesh polonies daily at tea!
Stamp collecting is the great rage at present; a complete collection of siege stamps costs £5.
Saturday, 12th May.—We have been attacked, but so far we have come off best. An attack expected again. May God protect us all!
Sunday, 13th May.—Yesterday morning I was awakened about four o’clock with heavy firing out on our front. I listened for a few moments, and then called Lamplough, and suggested that we had better dress, and get to our respective forts. So hurrying into my clothes I made a bolt outside, where bullets were flying in all directions, and after tripping and falling in the dark once or twice, I eventually reached it in safety, and took up my post. Every man was there. From all the enemy’s trenches along our front there was firing. We could tell, however, that they were some distance from our outposts, because our men had not returned a single shot. After the fusilading had continued for about half-an-hour the firing slackened, and I returned to my room to get something warm on, for I had simply pulled on a shirt, pair of trousers, and jacket; and it was very cold. Things were very quiet by the time I got back, and we had a hot cup of black coffee. I was just thinking of turning in again, for I felt knocked up with the rush, when we saw flames leaping up from the stadt, and very soon heard bullets coming from that direction, and felt sure they were being fired from the inside of our extreme outposts. Had the Dutch captured these points? and were they already in possession of that part of our position? These questions I immediately asked myself. It was an awful hour we spent; for we could not then leave our posts, as we did not know what might happen on our front, as it was not quite light. After some time news came that the Boers had got into the “stadt” and had captured the B.S.A.P. fort, not two hundred yards from the centre of the town. It was also said that Colonel Hore and his staff were prisoners. That “fort” has been their head-quarters, and has not been used as a regular fort.
Things looked rather serious, and so far no information could be obtained as to how many of the enemy had got in, or what positions had been taken. I spent a very bad three hours, for it looked very much as if it were to be a question of a hard fight right in the town. About 7.30 the news, however, was much more encouraging, for it was stated that about forty Boers had come up the river into the stadt, and then captured the B.S.A.P.’s fort, but that now we had them all surrounded, and very likely in a few hours they would surrender. All our other positions were safe. The greater part of the attacking force had cleared, so after a hurried breakfast I made my way to the bank to see that all was safe, and to consult with Mr. Ury as to what to do. We decided that we should take no steps, for everything was securely locked up, only we did not open the bank, and so I returned to my post. Then came some hours of suspense, for conflicting reports were flying about. Some said there were more men in the stadt than we had been told, and, what was more unsatisfactory, we could not get at the correct state of affairs. I may mention that at intervals during the whole day two of the enemy's high velocity guns shelled the town. Up till 5 o’clock none of the enemy had been captured, neither had they surrendered, so we were quite prepared to believe that this was part of a plan, that these men were to hold out in the fort and stadt, and that at night another point would be rushed, and so, perhaps, it meant that on the anniversary of the seventh month, Mafeking was going to fall. Still we were all resolved to fight to the last.
In about a quarter of an hour, however, things assumed a brighter aspect, for news reached us that Captain Fitz-Clarence and his squadron had rushed one party of those surrounded in the stadt, and that these had surrendered without any casualty on our side. The enemy had lost several, but as soon as the brave Captain and his men appeared with their bayonets at the charge they threw up the sponge.
However, as we heard that there were a considerable number yet in the stadt and fort, word was passed round that every man was to stand to arms all night, and that at 6.30 the fort would be rushed. So after a bite of tea every man took his post We breathlessly listened for the firing preparatory to the final charge. Anxiously, too, did we await the result, feeling sure that many of our brave fellows would lose their life; so conceive, if you can, our joy and excitement when we were told about 7.15 that Commandant Eloff and sixty men in the B.S.A.P. fort had surrendered to Colonel Hore—surrendered to their own prisoner! Was that not like a play? Cheers rang out lustily from every fort as the news was spread. It was then thought that no further movement would be made, and I was allowed to come over to my room with instructions to return at the first alarm. So over I came, and hearing a noise near the Hall, which is only two doors off, I went along and found that I was just too late to see the last lot of prisoners marched in. From the crowd, however, I was able to pick up some details. It appeared that Eloff and 300 of his men had got into the stadt, having marched up the riverbed. They were to have been backed by 750 more, who, however, funked it, and so let their comrades in for a “nice how-do-you-do!” We learned that 200 had been in the B.S.A.P. fort all day, but that over 100 had escaped under cover of darkness. All were very angry with Snyman who was to have backed them up. The prisoners were mostly French and German, and they had been left in the lurch by a lot of cowardly Boers. A French and a German officer were amongst the prisoners, and, as was ascertained from their passports, these two had arrived in Delagoa Bay on the 30th April. Eloff dined with the Colonel and was treated well. He says that he surrendered because he knew that the majority of his men were sure to fall if he fought on. They all agreed as to the accuracy of our men’s fire whenever they dared to show their head. The casualty list was not heavy considering that we had four killed, amongst whom was the jailer who was killed by a shell in his own kitchen. Five were wounded. Of the enemy, so far as we can ascertain, there were eleven killed, nineteen wounded, and a hundred and two prisoners. And so ended that memorable day.
Wednesday, 16th May.—The booming of the guns of the relief column was distinctly heard to-day. They seem to be tackling the Boers.
Thursday, 17th May.—At last we are relieved, as you will know from my wire to-day. We are now safe and well. Having got safely through the siege, I ought to feel quite a hero, for, from what we learn from the newspapers, the world has been watching us as we stuck to our posts from day to day. Personally, however, I feel I cannot take much credit for the part I took, though I did my duty as best I could. It has, indeed, been a severe strain, and three weeks ago I had to leave duty and rest, but I am very thankful to be able to say that I am much better, and was well enough to run about to meet the troops as they came in, and, beyond feeling a little tired, was none the worse. The 16th May 1900 will never be forgotten by those of us who had been anxiously waiting for over seven long, weary months to be relieved. When relief did come, it came upon us somewhat suddenly, for it was not until after Saturday’s fight that we knew about a southern force being anywhere near us. The Boer prisoners first gave us the information.
On Wednesday afternoon feeling a little tired I lay down for a rest. Very soon, however, I heard a sound as of guns in the distance; and so out I popped to make sure if my surmises were right. Sure enough, guns were heard distinctly to the west. So off I set for a good position to witness the battle that apparently was going on between our column and the Boers. The Railway works proved a good place. From there we could distinguish the dust of horsemen and also see the ground thrown up by bursting shells. But that was nearly seven miles away. Fortunately the country for miles around is very level, both to the west and to the south. The task, therefore, before our men was not so difficult as it might have been, had they had to approach the town over rugged country. Not having good glasses we could not distinguish men, and, of course, for some time, could not tell how the battle was going. But after a lull in the firing, we noticed the dust getting nearer, and so knew our men were gradually coming on. Then their heliograph was seen at work, and very soon ours replied, and by five o’clock they signalled that the Boers were retiring, and Major Powell, our gallant Colonel's brother, sent a message in to say he would be in to breakfast. So I came up and swallowed some tea, and hurried off to wait near the staff office; for I felt sure that some would ride on and come in that night. Nor was I disappointed. About seven o’clock C. Davies and eight men rode up, and the officer halting his men just said the little word, “Relief” How it seemed to send a shock right through us! The excitement was intense, and we almost pulled the men off their horses, in our anxiety to give them a welcome grip. They were men of the Imperial Light Horse, and two of them were the first to ride into Ladysmith.
I slept very little that night, the excitement being too much for me. At six o’clock the following morning I was up and down to see the column come in, but they had been a little too quick for me, for I found they were getting ready to water their horses preparatory to setting forth to have a go at our "friends" at this end of the town. Up to this time we could still hear the Boers sniping from some of their trenches, and “Gentle Annie” was firing every now and then from her old position. The first guns to open fire were our old 7-pounders, and their fire was directed at The trench where "Annie” was. They soon stopped her. The fun, however, really commenced when the Canadian artillery opened on the Boer Laager with their 12-pounders, and the Royal Horse soon thereafter came into action. After four well directed shells had found the laager, the Boers made up their minds that pressing business nearer the Transvaal required immediate attention, and you never saw such a scramble! Nothing but a cloud of dust was to be seen at the spot where for seven solid months we had a big camp of waggons and tents. Unfortunately the horses were unfit for our men to pursue after the enemy, or else the raising of the siege of Mafeking would have been next to Cronje’s capture-one of the best hauls of the war so far: the rout was so complete. Some of the Protectorate men and the B.S.A.P. did follow them for a little distance, but their horses were quite unfit for the hard work.
Those who visited the laager say that on every side there were signs of a very hurried flight. The wounded in the hospital, together with doctors and nurses, were left as also several prisoners belonging to Plumer's force whom they had captured some weeks ago.
There were also waggons packed up with goods and men's clothing, a few rifles and a good deal of foodstuffs. Snyman’s papers, telegrams, letters, &c., were also found. In fact all day long natives and others from the town were bringing in meal, flour, biscuits, sugar, and other luxuries as loot. We watched the fun from our forts till the enemy were out of sight, and then the town guard fell in on the Market Square to welcome the relief column as they came in from driving off the Boers, for, although they did not follow them, all the mounted men had gone out in case the Boers should make a stand.
It was a fine sight to see the different regiments pass. We cheered and cheered till we were hoarse. The Empire was well represented. South Africa was there in the Imperial Light Horse, Kimberley Mounted Corps, and Cape Police. Canadians were there, too, with four good guns. Australia in the Queenslanders who had tramped twenty-four hours to meet Plumer, and another twenty-four to reach Mafeking. All the British Isles had good representation also in twenty-five men drawn from English, Scotch, Welsh, and Irish regiments that had marched most of the way from Kimberley; and last, but not least, in the Royal Horse Artillery that had with them two 12-pounders and two pom-poms with which to do execution.
Thus our welcome relief came, for which we thank our Heavenly Father who has watched over and preserved us from so many great dangers until now.
Wednesday, 6th June 1900.—Very few troops are here now, most of them having gone over the border. They are busy taking prisoners, seizing cattle, &c. and trying to check the native looters who seem to have overrun the Transvaal.
As far as war news goes, we now hear less than we did even during the time of our imprisonment. It is stated, unofficially it is true, but the statement is generally believed, that Lord Roberts has taken Pretoria. We think, therefore, that the war is practically over. Now the question demanding consideration is to decide how to govern the new states. Public opinion here is in favour of Crown Colonies. Certainly this seems to be the only way to govern them at any rate for some time to come.
Sixty-five rebels were brought in on Monday, and they are being tenderly watched over by a strong guard. It is to be hoped that at least the ringleaders will be taught a lesson that will make such an impression as to render a repetition of the past months an impossibility. They come here and now beg for mercy, but for seven months they themselves have shown very little. I am told, too, that some of them were our worst enemies during our besiegement. Not only did they do their utmost to kill us, but what is more unpardonable, and is a thing that makes the heart of a Britisher very sore—they wilfully attempted to kill poor, helpless women and children in Mafeking. They shot down, also, poor, starving native women who, feeling the pangs of hunger, or perhaps trying to save the lives of their little ones, sought to leave Mafeking. In many cases these women did not seek to creep through across country under cover of darkness, but openly in the daytime walked out, and went along the public road. On Monday afternoon Mr. De Kock and I rode out on our bicycles to have a little shooting. In doing so, we came upon at least six heaps which, from the remnants of clothing, bead-work, &c.,we could tell were the last resting-places of native women. They had been covered over just as they fell with only a foot or so of earth. It made us very wroth, and spoiled our afternoon. Such are the tender mercies of our enemies!
