The Siege of Kimberley Part 3

In the meantime the real game was being played on the western border.

All our available mounted men, led by Colonel Scott-Turner, had crossed the Lazaretto Ridge, and actually drawn close to a Boer camp--un.o.bserved. When the sentry _did_ open his eyes and had challenged our advance agents no verbal response was made; but a rifle went off, and the sentry fell. The Boers were of course instantly aroused by the report; they rushed to their trenches, and a fierce rifle-duel ensued.

From the muzzles of the Mausers a withering volley came. Some of Turner's men fell from their saddles, but the rest, nothing daunted, pressed their advantage and charged pell-mell upon the foe. The Boers fought gallantly, but were unable to resist the fury of the onslaught; some of them threw down their arms; others made a dash for liberty; while not a few fell fighting to the last. Thirty prisoners were taken; also a large quant.i.ty of rifles. Seven Light Horse men were killed; twelve were seriously, and fifteen slightly, wounded. Colonel Scott-Turner, who was. .h.i.t in the shoulder, had his horse shot under him.

Thus ended the most serious sortie of the siege--so far.

The townspeople had a.s.sembled in concourse to welcome the warriors home.

Cheer after cheer rent the air as they pa.s.sed, intermingled now and then with a murmur of pity, suggested by the sight of a riderless horse.

Scott-Turner was the recipient of a special salvo, which nearly unsaddled him again; and the other officers were bored to death bowing their acknowledgments along the route. Privates with bandaged eyes or arms were also singled out for vociferous greeting, only they pa.s.sed the bowing, and were not a bit bored. The Mayor himself, smoking a cigar, came along in his own goods van! There was no mistaking his ident.i.ty; it _was_ the Mayor--the Mayor of the Diamond City in a wooden chariot! not indeed in his robes of State, but--in the flesh! A flaming Red Cross waved above the Mayoral van, and a long string of vehicles, adorned with like emblems, followed. It was to the credit of the merchants generally that they had voluntarily placed their horses and wagons at the disposal of the military. Had all the combatants been stricken _hors-de-combat_ there were facilities on the spot for their immediate conveyance to hospital.

The prisoners, who followed in the wake of their conquerors, were the great objects of curiosity and interest. One or two spectators started groaning; but a nudge, or failing that, a kick sufficed to correct their bad taste. A weary, travel-stained group the captives looked--with their unkempt locks and unshaven faces. No need to throw mud at them. The universal feeling was rather one of sympathy, even of admiration, for brave men whom fortune had omitted to favour.

CHAPTER VII

_Week ending 2nd December, 1899_

Three and three make six weeks. We were not yet free--not quite. Our period was doubled. The wary seers who "told us so" had triumphed; and they exploited their intuition for what it was worth, or rather for a great deal more, since clearly it was not worth much. They had triumphed (by a short head, so to speak), or said they had. What matter. They were minor prophets; and the nearness of Methuen and his Column enabled us to bear the trumpet-blowing with equanimity and good humour. The monster head-lines of the _Advertiser_--delightful paper!--proclaimed it "the last week of the siege!" It was placarded on the walls. The newsboys shrieked it abroad. The man in the street confirmed it. The populace believed it. The grocer beamed, and the haberdasher made bold definitely to state the date on which a particular reel of cotton could be purchased. It even stimulated the hotel-keepers to discover hidden spirits. The last week of the siege! how comforting it sounded; and what potent influence it possessed to soothe temperaments unadaptable to siege life.

The funerals of the brave men who had fought their last fight on Sat.u.r.day took place in the afternoon. A funeral is a mournful thing always; but here were six young men, cut down in the heyday of their lives, being conveyed to their last resting-place. Most of them had been esteemed citizens of the town in defence of which they died. It was this, the circ.u.mstances under which they fell, the feeling that it was for the preservation of the homes of the people they had given up their lives, that evoked so much sympathy and sorrow. Thousands of mourners attended to pay the fast tribute of respect to the dead. The various sections of the Town Guard in processional order followed the coffins to the cemetery.

Many things occurred in the course of the day to enhance our satisfaction with the prospect of emanc.i.p.ation. At eleven o'clock an alarm was sounded, and the services in the churches were in consequence cut short. The half of the Town Guard enjoying their day off had their relaxation cut short, too--unnecessarily, as it turned out. Fifty or sixty Boers were prowling about, a powerful gla.s.s enabled the zealous look-out to explain. It was a mere storm in a teacup, not by any means the first that had raged in that fragile utensil. This capped all past tempests, and made the men who had been off duty exceedingly angry, and the men who were on, exceedingly gay. Mafeking, however, was fighting on still; and many Boers had been killed in Natal. The _piece-de-resistance_ was the last to come. It concerned our own Relief Column, whose progress the enemy had had the temerity to impede at Belmont. How their hardihood had been rewarded with "cold steel"; how they had quailed before it; how they had fled before the conquering Methuen: these and other details, in all their charming vagueness, were received with rapture. It was fine news; and wounded men in the hospital, about to die, changed their minds and lived when they heard it.

We had a visitor--an emissary from the Boers--on Sunday. And though he turned out to be a Scotchman!--so brimful of hope and good humour were we that the circ.u.mstance detracted little from the cordiality of his reception. He was a doctor, the doctor whose services had been commandeered by the practical Boer. Some of us felt disposed to doubt his nationality; but the gentleman talked Scotch--that is, English--dialectically and broad; and when he shook hands familiarly with a few local members of his profession, the sceptics were silenced.

Show me your company, etc., did not apply. The main point, however, was, his business. What did he want? He wanted medicines, surgical instruments, and things--a request which occasioned much shoulder-shrugging _apropos_ of the medico's "nerve." That he served the Boers in his professional capacity _only_, was evidenced by the candour with which he opened his heart when queried as to the fortunes of the family who had taken a loan of him. He admitted a loss of one hundred killed and wounded Boers in the recent fight. This was rather higher than our own estimate--and we were not given to minimise on the _wrong_ side. It was wonderful. Whether the learned doctor exaggerated--but why should he (a Scot) in such a case?--unless indeed the canny one desired to please and make sure of his medicines. Anyhow he got his medicines (including a personal prescription, from his "ain country"), and with a bow of grat.i.tude departed.

The _Diamond Fields' Advertiser_ was quite readable on Monday. It contained news, and less of the fiction (culled from old magazines) with which it had been regaling us for weeks. On Monday we read of modern London, and of transports, fights, etc. (in the present war). We were engrossed in the news when the Boer guns began to play. Three shots were fired, and we had to admire the impudence of an enemy who acted as if the coming Column gave him no concern. The missiles. .h.i.t n.o.body, although one was facetiously alleged to have winged a locust. These insects swarmed the land--it was difficult to avoid hitting them--and one was not missed. We got more sh.e.l.ls in the afternoon, but they did no harm whatsoever.

The predominant and all-absorbing subject of discussion was the Column, its coming, its movements generally. We felt a little disappointed at the delays which the opposition it had encountered rendered unavoidable.

But we were not despondent, nor hyper-critical--not yet. The bombardments might be written down a fiasco, and what after all did it matter whether relief came to-morrow, or not till the day following.

Still, these delays upset plans and calculations. They upset bets and wagers, and the "bad losers" who villified both Briton and Boer with delightful impartiality. They upset diary-writers--prospective meteors in the firmaments of literature--and they upset the magnates of the De Beers Corporation, whose annual meeting had been fixed for that day. The meeting had to be postponed until Thursday, in order that the dividend declared might immediately be cabled, in accordance with custom, to the shareholders throughout the world. The wires were bound to be in flashing order by Thursday. It was re-a.s.suring to find oneself in agreement on that head with a rock of common sense like Mr. Cecil Rhodes.

Ten more sh.e.l.ls were pitched at us on Tuesday, only one of which reached its destination; the other nine went off at a tangent somewhere else, to the chagrin of curio company promoters. It would have been more tactful of the Boers, we thought, to have reserved their ammunition for a more aggressive foe. No great attention, however, was paid to their extravagances, and from anything in the nature of repartee we refrained.

There was more serious work in hand; preparations were going on apace to open up an avenue for the Relief Column. The Town Guard were ready; the Light Horse, the Imperial troops, and the armoured train were also to the fore. This formidable combination was soon on its way to the Schmidt's Drift Road, where it found shelter behind some friendly ridges. The Boers occupied Spitzkop and were looking across at us with curiosity--not unmingled with uneasiness, we felt sure. They maintained a rigid silence, and made no attempt to interfere with our arrangements until the armoured train came into view. The ridges we occupied were afterwards sh.e.l.led, and the _Diamond Fields' Artillery_ responded. While this not too b.l.o.o.d.y duel was in progress, a body of mounted men had received instructions to take up a position away to the right of Spitzkop.

It grew dark eventually, and we decided, or rather got orders, to remain where we were for the night. Given a choice we would have done nothing of the sort; it was chilly weather outside canvas; we had not come prepared for a bivouac, and we had no great coats nor blankets. But they were subsequently sent out to us. To satisfy the pangs of hunger, which were a.s.serting themselves with increasing importunity, we tried (advisedly) the pockets of the coats, and there found the goods required. There were belated "Guards" who got blankets _only_. How they fared is not recorded, but I believe they asked for more! The firing had by this time ceased on both sides; but the impression was that it would be resumed early next morning; that a battle was imminent, and a sleep desirable but not at all imminent. Our "beds" were too strange and cold for sleep--as in the case of peaceful people when travel necessitates a departure from feathers to planks of straw. We watched the play of the searchlight, and were interested observers of a responsive gleam from Modder River. The Column was there for a certainty. We had been listening all day to the booming of guns, but had yet no idea that it was connected with the battle of Modder River. Ultimately we ceased chattering, and charmed _Morpheus_ at last--all unconscious of the sad morrow.

For a sad morrow it was. The most tragic day of the siege! A rumour ran riot that Scott-Turner had been killed; but the people _would not_ believe it. Colonel Scott-Turner dead! It was hard to convince the populace of the fate of the gallant Colonel; harder still to inculcate that over with him to the great majority had pa.s.sed twenty-four of his followers. But so it was. Of the survivors thirty were wounded!

Some seventy or eighty mounted men had attacked the Boers in possession of Carter's Farm (which had been re-taken), and had carried the Farm in the face of a withering fire from the enemy--who fell back upon a stronger position. Nothing daunted, our men brought up their guns and prepared to repeat their success. The Boers resisted fiercely, but were eventually driven back to a third line of defence. Night was rapidly descending, but this notwithstanding, the Light Horse were ordered to complete their victory. It was in this last rush that their daring leader was struck down. The third position was actually taken; but the disappearance of the light rather handicapped the gunners. The enemy was re-inforced, and the remnants of the Light Horse were obliged to evacuate the ground that had cost them so much.

These are the bare facts of the affair--the facts which came to light.

Contradictory opinions as to whether there had been a blunder were freely expressed. On the conflicting theories advanced I refrain from commenting. It did not, for the moment, concern the people at large upon whose shoulders the blame rested. Twenty-four dead! and Scott-Turner one of them. Seventeen of the number had been well-known and respected citizens. The _Diamond Fields' Advertiser_ commented on the fight as a "triumph" for British arms. This point was, to put it mildly, debatable.

The feeling uppermost in the mind of the plain man was that nothing had been accomplished that could compensate for the loss of so many brave men. The consoler who argued that the losses on the other side exceeded ours did not console. Nor did the vapourings of him who prated of what we, acting in conjunction with the Column, would presently give the Boers. The disaster enkindled a distrust of the military which remained inextinguishable to the end. Wherefore the need of risking so many lives, at such a moment, with a Column outside, on its way to set us free? That the critics--and they were legion--should search for motives was inevitable; and the tactics of the military were promptly attributed to a desire for glory (here below). This may have been an erroneous, a wild conclusion; but it was jumped to with great satisfaction.

Theoretically, the idea of getting in touch with the approaching troops was good; but it was a premature effort--how awfully premature we knew at last. Our defenders were few enough to defend the perimiter of the city. How were we to hold the positions we had sought to get possession of? To this and much more (_after_ the event) the public demanded an answer. They asked in vain; for under the "Resolute Government" of Martial Law, public opinion is an Irishism.

The funerals made a most impressive spectacle. The troops and Volunteers with the bands of their respective regiments headed the cortege. There was profound sadness in the faces of the vast a.s.semblage that crowded the streets. The twenty-four coffins were lowered into the graves, amid a solemn silence broken now and then by the Ministers of religion who read the burial services. It was an awe-inspiring scene, that will be long remembered in the Diamond City.

The signalling went on as usual in the evening. Heavy fighting, we were told, had taken place at Modder River, with considerable loss on both sides. That was all; it was enough; news of that nature was not satisfying. The De Beers Directors a.s.sembled to hold their adjourned meeting, and to adjourn it again. Mr. Rhodes acknowledged that he had been wrong in his calculations. Everybody was wrong, but n.o.body except Cecil played the candid friend.

Friday was peaceful; an opportune occasion for reviewing our losses. All told, forty lives had been lost. The recent disaster brought down upon the military authorities a chorus of adverse criticism. It had been discovered, too, that it was not the _first_ disaster; and for the losses sustained in the earlier sorties the Colonel and his advisers were also condemned. This was hard on the military, whose conduct of previous operations had been extolled by the men in the street who now inveighed against it. There were, of course, fair-minded people who were too honest not to remember this; but they could not _forget_ their meat allowances; and they wrathfully connived at the hard sayings without going so far as to join in their dissemination. But, indeed, what with regrets, tragedies, dry bread, and indifferent dinners--their combined effect was not to lift us high above ourselves (later on, the alt.i.tude was better). Down at the railway station extensive preparations were being made for the revivial of traffic. Hundreds of men were employed laying down new rails, and widening the _terminus_--to provide s.p.a.ce for the miles of trams in the wake of the Column. The Royal Engineers, accompanying the troops, were repairing the line as they advanced. Other people, who knew better, had it that a new railroad through a circuitous route was being made. This was a.s.serted with a positiveness, a clearness, as it were, of second sight that cowed all promptings of common sense. But it was not of supreme importance by what route the train came, if it only came soon. Not a few were indifferent as to whether it ever came (in); they would be satisfied with a seat in a truck going _out_. We were anxious to know what was going on in the world. An intense longing for a glimpse of Stock Exchange quotations existed in some quarters; others were dying to "back" horses; and there were guileless people whose sorrows were epitomised in a sigh for a letter, or two, (or a dozen) from home, and corresponding a.s.surances that all was well there. We speculated a good deal on the probable depth of the piles of correspondence acc.u.mulating for each of us. The letter-sorters were not enjoying their holidays; we hoped--we knew they would soon end. Had we dreamt that they were to lengthen into another seventy days, the dream would a.s.suredly have killed us. But, thank goodness, in the watches of the night our sleep was not haunted by the spectral truth. Seventy _hours_ a.s.similated better with--our dreams.

There was the Column busy signalling and settling it all with the Colonel. The Colonel was certainly a reticent man; he gave us precious little _data_, to supplement our faith. But the _nearness_ of Methuen was _data_ enough for us. It did not do, it was foolish when it was useless, to be too curious. It was puzzling, to be sure, to watch the movements of the Boers, or rather their lack of movement. That they saw the signals and knew what to expect went without saying. And yet they perversely showed no signs of running away. On the contrary, they kept improving their defences and generally indicating that they had come to stay. We liked the _hardihood_ of this att.i.tude; but were on the whole inclined to pity the poor beggars. Defiance, in the circ.u.mstances, could only mean annihilation for them. Kimberley reasoned thusly: Kimberley reasoned well.

Sat.u.r.day made it still clearer that the ineffable enemy, so far from being frightened, was obdurate yet. Large commandoes of Boers had joined the besiegers during the night. All day long they toiled like Trojans, digging trenches. At Oliphantsfontein they erected a new camp and made their fortifications una.s.sailable. We could only conclude that they purposed making a stand. The fatuousness of such a course was clear to us; for with the aid of the Relief Column we would presently be in a position to attack the Boers from many sides; to hem them in; to cut off retreat; and to kill or make prisoners of them all. It was a bold conviction; we still viewed things through Napoleonic gla.s.ses.

It was stated that President Steyn was outside, to stimulate the burghers with his presence and eloquence. The news was interesting, and the hope was fairly general that no worse fate would be his than that of a prisoner of war. There were also some particulars of the Modder River fight; the Boers had been driven from their kopjes; hundreds had been shot; thousands made prisoners; and whips of guns captured. This was not quite a proper version of what happened at the Modder (it is questionable whether we were ever made acquainted with the actual facts); but we believed it all; it sounded well. One of the funny features of the siege in its earlier stages was the readiness on the one hand with which a practical community swallowed good news, however false; and the stern disinclination evinced on the other to be "taken in" by the truth when it chanced to leak out and happened to be disagreeable.

Such was the condition of affairs when forty-nine long days had crept by. As to the brightness of the immediate future no misgivings existed.

The days would soon shorten to their normal duration, and be all the happier for the antecedent gloom. Relief could not in the nature of things be very far away. Ah, no; it never was; that was the pity of it--the irritant destined to deepen our disgust--to nourish our discontent. At Mafeking they were spared at least the galling consciousness of relief so near, and yet so far. The irritation, however, was not to be felt yet. We looked confidently to an early release--so confidently that the decadence of dinners did not distress us. We considered it of relatively little consequence that provisions were becoming scarce; they would last another fortnight "in a pinch," we thought. As for luxuries, we talked of them, and promised shortly to make up for lost time. The antic.i.p.ated reunion between bread and b.u.t.ter was a sustaining thought. The Column might be trusted to carry with it a sufficiency of firkins to achieve that glorious end; and we were meanwhile content to be fastidious in our choice of jams, and to be the bane of our grocer's existence.

CHAPTER VIII

_Week ending 9th December, 1899_

For such comfort as preserved fruit could shed over the soul was still ours. It was not cla.s.sed as a "necessary," and the retailers being free to charge freely for it could sell it at a price too "long" for the purses of the many. Dry bread is an unpalatable thing, and the new "Law's" loaf was superlative in that respect. The grocer was beginning to discriminate, so far as he dared, between his friends (his customers) and the casual purchaser, whose affected cordiality did not deceive the shrewd old wretch. b.u.t.ter had ceased to be practical politics; fruit and vegetables were sorely missed. When existence is rendered trying by the scorching rays of a Kimberley sun, fruit and vegetables are essential to the preservation of health; but there was none preserved in the summer of the siege. Grapes grew in corrugated green-houses outside the doors of the houses, but there were no vineyards to speak of. The quality of the fruit, too, was poor; and though it was yet far from being ripe, it was guarded with a vigilance that made robbing a garden a suicidal proceeding. The indefatigable coolies--our not too green green-grocers--did contrive to get hold of a species of wild grape, no bigger nor sweeter than haws, and to sell them for two shillings a pound! Two _pence_ could in normal times procure the best product of the vine; but these of course were siege grapes, and siege prices were charged for them, as in the matter of siege eggs, siege drinks, siege potatoes, siege everything--that the "Law" allowed. Morning lemons were never so badly needed; oranges would hardly suit the purpose--but they, too, were gone. Apples were out of the question; water-melon parties had ceased to be. The absence of the "Java" (guava) broke the Bantu heart.

"'Ave a banana" was (happily) not yet composed, and gooseberries--Cape gooseberries do not grow on bushes. Small green things which lured one to colic were offered by the cool coolies for twopence each--a sum that would have been exorbitant for a gross had they not borne the hall-mark of siege peaches.

For vegetables, too, our livers waxed torpid, and our blood boiled in vain. The potato was gone; the benefits conferred on posterity by Sir Walter Raleigh were at length realised in a negative way. Miniature "Murphies" fetched four pence halfpenny _each_, while an adult member of the _genus_ at ninepence was worth two of the little ones. Mr. Rhodes may have luxuriated on potatoes (_c.u.m grano salis_!) but few others were so very Irish. The De Beers Company owned a large garden, and that this should have been given over to the hospital was a delicate consideration of which even the dyspeptic could not complain. Cabbages were a dream.

Of cauliflowers a memory lingered. Soft words b.u.t.tered no parsnips.

Onions were "off"--so we went on weeping. Everything in the garden but some wizened carrots had withered away. Such carrots! small, cadaverous, brick-coloured things, no bigger than a cork, as dry, as masticable, and, still like a cork, with little save a _smell_ to commend their indulgence. But like the donkeys that we were, we ate them every time!

Talking of corks reminds me of bottles, and the precious little that was in _them_. We had no whiskey; think of that, ye Banks and Braes! There were nice crystal brands in the hotel windows, but--I shall be dealing later with _oils_. Sceptical tipplers, whose every feature spelled whiskey, were reduced to the painful necessity of diluting their sodas with lime juice; and so strongly did the "claret" taste of timber that the beverage was adjudged a non-intoxicant with _extraordinary unanimity_! Port and sherry, being beyond our reach, were despised, like our neighbour's sour grapes. The publican, however, had good spirits still; Cape brandy (or "Smoke," as it was called) found a market at last, and swelled heads enormously. But if the signs and portents of a drought in beer and stout were to be trusted, the unkindest cut of all was yet to come. And it did come. In the thirsty clime of Kimberley the consumption of the brewer's goods was large; and in the restaurants, with bars attached, good meals were sold cheaply to facilitate the sale of the beer which "washed" the food down. When the drought came the proprietors of these delectable taverns promptly raised their charges by fifty per cent., albeit the value and the variety of the victuals had lessened. Men in receipt of good wages loved beer and indulged the pa.s.sion freely. The addition of the Imperial allowances to their incomes had intensified their thirst. Then there were the unusual conditions under which they lived, the paucity of provisions, the great heat--all these things tended to damage temperance and to exalt the flowing bowl.

A mult.i.tude suffered when beer and stout gave out. The tipplers grew pale and visibly thinner; nature made her exactions with unwonted abruptness. A certain degree of sympathy was felt for the Baccha.n.a.ls, by none more sincerely than by the druggist--artful old quack! It was to him the sufferers had to turn, to such straits were they reduced. Drugs were booming, and the druggist, not satisfied with the normal hugeness of his profits, slipped into the fashion and fleeced all round with unprecedented flagrancy. A purgative proclamation--cla.s.sing pills as "necessaries"--was called for, but it never came. Obese folk, fearful that their flesh was falling off in lumps, drank freely of cod liver oil. On the other hand, fragile creatures of delicate mould thought black tea not only cheaper but ever so much nicer. Of course, the poor chemist was not responsible for tastes. He had much to answer for; but he was really sorry for the nerves and the penury of the poor.

With Monday came three despatch-riders who reported that heavy fighting had taken place--somewhere; the authorities declined to tell us where.

The Boers remained docile all day; the heat was oppressive, but their silence was more generally attributed to a tardy realisation of their position. The military were unusually alert and watchful. The public graciously approved of this watchfulness, but pooh-poohed the danger of invasion. We were tired hearing day after day that an attack on the town was to be made "to-night"; it was to be "taken" six nights out of every seven, the last being, if I mistake not, the one on which General French was feted at the Kimberley Club.

Elaborate arrangements were made on Tuesday for the better protection of our cattle. The quadrupeds, Dutch and English, were on the best of terms--a happy augury, surely, for the amity which would unite the bipeds of the land when the war was done. We had a batch of natives employed digging trenches for the cattle-guards. A patrol was at hand to nip in the bud any interference with the work which might be contemplated. If the Boers did interfere, so much the better; interference would involve a fight, and from a friendly tussle in the sun the patrol was not averse. On the south and west sides the enemy still laboured at their fortifications. We knew not what to make of this; it nonplussed us. We had ceased ascribing it to want of knowledge: for we had, reluctantly, let it down on us that the Boers knew as much of the Column's movements as we did ourselves. But of course we also knew that the Boer was a child in such matters as generalship and tactics.

Every afternoon, at this period, the "child" delighted in trying to hit the head-gear of the Premier Mine. Whether it was the red flag that floated at the top or the thing itself he sought to tatter is uncertain.

At any rate, it was no easy matter to hit the head-gear, as the gunner had long since discovered, nor, could he hit it, to smash it. Hundreds of sh.e.l.ls were thrown at it, but it was never struck, and to damage it materially it would be necessary to strike it more than once. Its substance was tough--what Bismarck would have called iron painted to look like wood. Another object of Boer wrath was the searchlight. Night attacks were supposed to be the enemy's _forte_, and it was only the difficulty of extinguishing the candle that delayed _our_ extinction.

And so perhaps it was; we never knew for certain, for the difficulty of applying the snuffers remained insuperable to the end. Numberless missiles were shot at the searchlight, but its radiance was never dimmed for a moment.

The most important of the thousand and one rumours circulated on Tuesday was that a place called Jacobsdal had been taken by Methuen. We were not pleased to hear it. Being anxious to give Kimberley away to his lordship for nothing, we were at a loss to know why he should go out of his way to lay hold of a town when a city offered. There were, however, extenuating circ.u.mstances, in that a vast quant.i.ty of provisions had been seized at Jacobsdal. Provisions were now in our eyes of greater value than diamonds even! On Wednesday the _Advertiser_ corroborated the rumour (_re_ Jacobsdal); it gave details of the whole brilliant achievement, and sundry absorbing items anent the digestiveness of the confiscated supplies. All this was highly interesting; but unfortunately it was all untrue; it was discovered to be fiction. It was not the first lie (not quite), but none other had been so quickly, so frankly exposed.

Our newspaper had been misinformed, and candidly told us so.

The De Beers directors, looking a little emaciated from anxiety rather than want of nourishment, a.s.sembled in Stockdale Street to hold their adjourned meeting. But the Column had not yet come in, the Chairman announced. The public, who were growing sarcastic, opined that the Kafirs imprisoned in the compounds knew it! Mr. Rhodes suitably explained how sorry he was to disappoint again; the fault was not his; he was not (he confided) in the confidence of Lord Methuen. A further postponement was unavoidable, and the meeting dispersed for a week. The period was significantly long.

The happiest section of the community was the composite collection of human units that const.i.tuted the Town Guard, and lived in the camps.

There were to be found representatives of all nationalities--English, Dutch, Irish, Scotch, German, Norwegian, French, etc. With the local (Kimberley) variety there intermingled all sorts and conditions of refugees. Men of wealth, of high social standing and education were there, sleeping in the same "bed," playing cards and competing in "anecdotage" with the sons of toil. From the very beginning of the siege the Town Guard had had to "rough it" in rations. It was black tea or blacker coffee for breakfast; sorry soup and meat (the osseous joints that made the soup) for dinner; the breakfast again for tea--that made up from day to day the dreary _menu_. The Mayor, indeed, had for a little while managed to administer currant buns (it was not easy always to find the currant) for supper; but even prior to the official proclamation of their indigestibility they had gone the way of all luxuries. The generosity of the public, however--the female portion of it especially--must not be forgotten. Substantial presents, which were always acknowledged through the columns of the Press, came frequently to the camps. The cynics detected astuteness in this rush into print; but while they mourned the frailty of human nature, as instanced by the vanity compet.i.tions in the papers, they humbled themselves to the Greeks so far as to partake of such gifts as were offered. Tobacco, cigarettes, and other dainties were received, and consumed with rude rapidity. Every man was supposed to be responsible for the safety of a tin pannikin, out of which to scald himself drinking hot tea (for it had the merit of being hot--if a black draught has any). But there were soldiers who denied having been supplied with "cups"; whose appeals for pannikins were persistently flouted by the military utensil-keeper-in-chief. The "tape" of the Service could not tie up mendacity! The lives of honest martyrs were thus spent in an eternal borrowing quest, and the petty larceny of pannikins was a common and popular crime. Many a heated, yet amusing, quarrel, many a storm in a porringer relieved the monotony of camp life.

Concerts did it, too, at frequent intervals; and fine concerts they were. At the Reservoir camp they were particularly excellent, not the least interesting "turns" being the sanguinary "sword speeches" of the Officer Commanding. Comic and melodious songs were rendered with equal gusto; the Royal Artillery rivalled the D.F. Artillery, and Tommy Atkins, the merchants, s...o...b..ys, clerks, and "civies" generally. The services of an Irishman--_born_ great, by virtue of the brogue with which he kicked Off to Philadelphia--were in great demand at all the halls. One night the Chair was occupied by the Senior Officer, surrounded by his staff, in a halo of cigarette smoke. He (the Chairman) had a box in front of him, doing duty as a table; a rough programme lay before him, and two candles, with long beer bottles serving as _candelabra_, threw sufficient light on the "table," and lit the cigarettes. The president had bottles in front of him, containing something still more illuminating than tallow (judging by the hue of the faces privileged to sample it), from which the ring round the "table"

from time to time regaled itself. Many an envious glance was shot at the ring; and by-the-by it was wonderful the celerity with which the diffidence so marked at the outset disappeared when it was observed that vocal contributors (soloists) were by courtesy ent.i.tled to a "pull" from the bottles. Everybody wanted to sing, and dismal howlers who, ordinarily, would die first, were driven, tempted, lured, impelled to howl for drink. The liquor, _generously_ diluted with minerals, was served out in pannikins; and when the concert ended the National Anthem was taken by storm, as also were the empty bottles to squeeze, lick, and drain to the dregs.