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THE GREAT BOER WAR
municating it to the civil authorities. As a matter of fact the charge
rests upon a misapprehension. In Wessels’ letter a distinction is
made between Africander and English women, the former being offered an asylum in his camp. This offer was made known, and half
a dozen persons took advantage of it. The suggestion, however, in
the case of the English carried with it no promise that they would
be conveyed to Orange River, and a compliance with it would have
put them as helpless hostages into the hands of the enemy. As to not
publishing the message it is not usual to publish such offi cial documents, but the offer was shown to Mr. Rhodes, who concurred in the
impossibility of accepting it.
It is diffi cult to allude to this subject without touching upon
the painful but notorious fact that there existed during the siege
considerable friction between the military authorities and a section of the civilians, of whom Mr. Rhodes was chief. Among other
characteristics Rhodes bore any form of restraint very badly, and
chafed mightily when unable to do a thing in the exact way which
he considered best. He may have been a Napoleon of peace, but his
warmest friends could never describe him as a Napoleon of war, for
his military forecasts have been erroneous, and the management of
the Jameson fi asco certainly inspired no confi dence in the judgment
of any one concerned. That his intentions were of the best, and that
he had the good of the Empire at heart, may be freely granted; but
that these motives should lead him to cabal against, and even to
threaten, the military governor, or that he should attempt to force
Lord Roberts’s hand in a military operation, was most deplorable.
Every credit may be given to him for all his aid to the military – he
gave with a good grace what the garrison would otherwise have had
to commandeer – but it is a fact that the town would have been
more united, and therefore stronger, without his presence. Colonel
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ARTHUR CONAN DOYLE
Kekewich and his chief staff offi cer, Major O’Meara, were as much
plagued by intrigue within as by the Boers without.
On November 7th the bombardment of the town commenced
from nine 9-pounder guns to which the artillery of the garrison
could give no adequate reply. The result, however, of a fortnight’s
fi re, during which seven hundred shells were discharged, was the
loss of two non-combatants. The question of food was recognised
as being of more importance than the enemy’s fi re. An early relief
appeared probable, however, as the advance of Methuen’s force was
already known. One pound of bread, two ounces of sugar, and half
a pound of meat were allowed per head. It was only on the small
children that the scarcity of milk told with tragic effect. At Ladysmith, at Mafeking, and at Kimberley hundreds of these innocents
were sacrifi ced.
November 25th was a red-letter day with the garrison, who
made a sortie under the impression that Methuen was not far off,
and that they were assisting his operations. The attack was made
upon one of the Boer positions by a force consisting of a detachment of the Light Horse and of the Cape Police, and their work
was brilliantly successful. The actual storming of the redoubt was
carried out by some forty men, of whom but four were killed. They
brought back thirty-three prisoners as a proof of their victory, but
the Boer gun, as usual, escaped us. In this brilliant affair Scott-Turner was wounded, which did not prevent him, only three days later,
from leading another sortie, which was as disastrous as the fi rst had
been successful. Save under very exceptional circumstances it is in
modern warfare long odds always upon the defence, and the garrison would probably have been better advised had they refrained
from attacking the fortifi cations of their enemy – a truth which
Baden-Powell learned also at Game Tree Hill. As it was, after a temporary success the British were blown back by the fi erce Mauser
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THE GREAT BOER WAR
fi re, and lost the indomitable Scott-Turner, with twenty-one of his
brave companions killed and twenty-eight wounded, all belonging
to the colonial corps. The Empire may refl ect with pride that the
people in whose cause mainly they fought showed themselves by
their gallantry and their devotion worthy of any sacrifi ce which
has been made.
Again the siege settled down to a monotonous record of decreasing rations and of expectation. On December 10 there came
a sign of hope from the outside world. Far on the southern horizon
a little golden speck shimmered against the blue African sky. It was
Methuen’s balloon gleaming in the sunshine. Next morning the low
grumble of distant cannon was the sweetest of music to the listening citizens. But days passed without further news, and it was not
for more than a week that they learned of the bloody repulse of
Magersfontein, and that help was once more indefi nitely postponed.
Heliographic communication had been opened with the relieving
army, and it is on record that the fi rst message fl ashed through from
the south was a question about the number of a horse. With inconceivable stupidity this has been cited as an example of military levity
and incapacity. Of course the object of the question was a test as to
whether they were really in communication with the garrison. It
must be confessed that the town seems to have contained some very
querulous and unreasonable people.
The New Year found the beleaguered city reduced to a quarter of a pound of meat per head, while the health of the inhabitants began to break down under their confi nement. Their interest ,
however, was keenly aroused by the attempt made in the De Beers
workshops to build a gun which might reach their opponents. This
remarkable piece of ordnance, constructed by an American named
Labram by the help of tools manufactured for the purpose and of
books found in the town, took the shape eventually of a 28 lb. rifl ed
283
ARTHUR CONAN DOYLE
gun, which proved to be a most effi cient piece of artillery. With grim
humour, Mr. Rhodes’s compliments had been inscribed upon the
shells – a fair retort in view of the openly expressed threat of the
enemy that in case of his capture they would carry him in a cage to
Pretoria.
The Boers, though held off for a time by this unexpected piece
of ordnance, prepared a terrible answer to it. On February 7th an
enormous gun, throwing a 96 lb. shell, opened from Kamfersdam,
which is four miles from the centre of the town. The shells, following the evil precedent of the Germans in 1870, were fi red not at the
forts, but into the thickly populated city. Day and night these huge
missiles exploded, shattering the houses and occasionally killing or
maiming the occupants. Some thousands of the women and children were conveyed down the mines, where, in the electric-lighted
tunnels, they lay in comfort and safety. One surprising revenge the
Boers had, for by an extraordinary chance one of the few men killed
by their gun was the ingenious Labram who had constructed the
28-pounder. By an even more singular chance, Leon, who was responsible for bringing the big Boer gun, was struck immediately afterwards by a long-range rifl e-shot from the garrison.
The historian must be content to give a tame account of the siege
of Kimberley, for the thing itself was tame. Indeed ‘siege’ is a misnomer, for it was rather an investment or a blockade. Such as it was,
however, the inhabitants became very restless under it, and though
there were never any prospects of surrender the utmost impatience
began to be manifested at the protracted delay on the part of the relief force. It was not till later that it was understood how cunningly
Kimberley had been used as a bait to hold the enemy until fi nal
preparations had been made for his destruction.
And at last the great day came. It is on record how dramatic was
the meeting between the mounted outposts of the defenders and
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THE GREAT BOER WAR
the advance guard of the relievers, whose advent seems to have been
equally unexpected by friend and foe. A skirmish was in progress on
February 15th between a party of the Kimberley Light Horse and of
the Boers, when a new body of horsemen, unrecognised by either
side, appeared upon the plain and opened fi re upon the enemy. One
of the strangers rode up to the patrol. ‘What the dickens does K.L. H.
mean on your shoulder-strap?’ he asked. ‘It means Kimberley Light
Horse. Who are you?’ ‘I am one of the New Zealanders.’ Macaulay in
his wildest dream of the future of the much-quoted New Zealander
never pictured him as heading a rescue force for the relief of a British town in the heart of Africa.
The population had assembled to watch the mighty cloud of dust
which rolled along the south-eastern horizon. What was it which
swept westwards within its reddish heart? Hopeful and yet fearful
they saw the huge bank draw nearer and nearer. An assault from the
whole of Cronje’s army was the thought which passed through many
a mind. And then the dust-cloud thinned, a mighty host of horsemen
spurred out from it, and in the extended far-fl ung ranks the glint
of spearheads and the gleam of scabbards told of the Hussars and
Lancers, while denser banks on either fl ank marked the position of
the whirling guns. Wearied and spent with a hundred miles’ ride the
dusty riders and the panting, dripping horses took fresh heart as they
saw the broad city before them, and swept with martial rattle and
jingle towards the cheering crowds. Amid shouts and tears French
rode into Kimberley while his troopers encamped outside the town.
To know how this bolt was prepared and how launched, the narrative must go back to the beginning of the month. At that period
Methuen and his men were still faced by Cronje and his entrenched
forces, who, in spite of occasional bombardments, held their position
between Kimberley and the relieving army. French, having handed
over the operations at Colesberg to Clements, had gone down to
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ARTHUR CONAN DOYLE
Cape Town to confer with Roberts and Kitchener. Thence they all
three made their way to the Modder River, which was evidently
about to be the base of a more largely conceived series of operations
than any which had yet been undertaken.
In order to draw the Boer attention away from the thunderbolt
which was about to fall upon their left fl ank, a strong demonstration ending in a brisk action was made early in February upon the
extreme right of Cronje’s position. The force, consisting of the Highland Brigade, two squadrons of the 9th Lancers, No. 7 Co. Royal
Engineers, and the 62nd Battery, was under the command of the
famous Hector Macdonald. ‘Fighting Mac’ as he was called by his
men, had joined his regiment as a private, and had worked through
the grades of corporal, sergeant, captain, major, and colonel, until
now, still in the prime of his manhood, he found himself riding at
the head of a brigade. A bony, craggy Scotsman, with a square fi ghting head and a bulldog jaw, he had conquered the exclusiveness and
routine of the British service by the same dogged qualities which
made him formidable to Dervish and to Boer. With a cool brain,
a steady nerve, and a proud heart, he is an ideal leader of infantry,
and those who saw him manoeuvre his brigade in the crisis of the
battle of Omdurman speak of it as the one great memory which they
carried back from the engagement. On the fi eld of battle he turns
to the speech of his childhood, the jagged, rasping, homely words
which brace the nerves of the northern soldier. This was the man
who had come from India to take the place of poor Wauchope, and
to put fresh heart into the gallant but sorely stricken brigade.
The four regiments which composed the infantry of the
force – the Black Watch, the Argyll and Sutherlands, the Seaforths,
and the Highland Light Infantry – left Lord Methuen’s camp on
Saturday, February 3rd, and halted at Fraser’s Drift, passing on next
day to Koodoosberg. The day was very hot, and the going very heavy,
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THE GREAT BOER WAR
and many men fell out, some never to return. The drift (or ford) was
found, however, to be undefended, and was seized by Macdonald,
who, after pitching camp on the south side of the river, sent out
strong parties across the drift to seize and entrench the Koodoosberg and some adjacent kopjes which, lying some three-quarters of
a mile to the north-west of the drift formed the key of the position.
A few Boer scouts were seen hurrying with the news of his coming
to the head laager.
The effect of these messages was evident by Tuesday (February
6th), when the Boers were seen to be assembling upon the north
bank. By next morning they were there in considerable numbers,
and began an attack upon a crest held by the Seaforths. Macdonald
threw two companies of the Black Watch and two of the Highland
Light Infantry into the fi ght. The Boers made excellent practice with
a 7-pounder mountain gun, and their rifl e fi re, considering the good
cover which our men had, was very deadly. Poor Tait, of the Black
Watch, good sportsman and gallant soldier, with one wound hardly
healed upon his person, was hit again. ‘They’ve got me this time,’
were his dying words. Blair, of the Seaforths, had his carotid cut by
a shrapnel bullet, and lay for hours while the men of his company
took turns to squeeze the artery. But our artillery silenced the Boer
gun, and our infantry easily held their rifl emen. Babington with the
cavalry brigade arrived from the camp about 1.30, moving along the
north bank of the river. In spite of the fact that men and horses were
weary from a tiring march, it was hoped by Macdonald’s force that
they would work round the Boers and make an attempt to capture
either them or their gun. But the horsemen seem not to have realised the position of the parties, or that possibility of bringing off
a considerable coup, so the action came to a tame conclusion, the
Boers retiring unpursued from their attack. On Thursday, February
8th, they were found to have withdrawn, and on the same evening
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ARTHUR CONAN DOYLE
our own force was recalled, to the surprise and disappointment of
the public at home, who had not realised that in directing their attention to their right fl ank the column had already produced the
effect upon the enemy for which they had been sent. They could not
be left there, as they were needed for those great operations which
were pending. It was on the 9th that the brigade returned; on the
10th they were congratulated by Lord Roberts in person; and on the
11th those new dispositions were made which were destined not
only to relieve Kimberley, but to infl ict a blow upon the Boer cause
from which it was never able to recover.
Small, brown, and wrinkled, with puckered eyes and alert manner, Lord Roberts in spite of his sixty-seven years preserves the fi gure and energy of youth. The active open-air life of India keeps men
fi t for the saddle when in England they would only sit their club
armchairs, and it is hard for any one who sees the wiry fi gure and
brisk step of Lord Roberts to realise that he has spent forty-one years
of soldiering in what used to be regarded as an unhealthy climate.
He had carried into late life the habit of martial exercise, and a Russian traveller has left it on record that th e sight which surprised him
most in India was to see the veteran commander of the army ride
forth with his spear and carry off the peg with the skill of a practised
trooper. In his early youth he had shown in the Mutiny that he possessed the fi ghting energy of the soldier to a remarkable degree, but
it was only in the Afghan War of 1880 that he had an opportunity of
proving that he had rarer and more valuable gifts, the power of swift
resolution and determined execution. At the crisis of the war he and
his army disappeared entirely from the public ken only to emerge
dramatically as victors at a point three hundred miles distant from
where they had vanished.
It is not only as a soldier, but as a man, that Lord Roberts possesses some remarkable characteristics. He has in a supreme degree that
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THE GREAT BOER WAR
magnetic quality which draws not merely the respect but the love of
those who know him. In Chaucer’s phrase, he is a very perfect gentle
knight. Soldiers and regimental offi cers have for him a feeling of
personal affection such as the unemotional British Army has never
had for any leader in the course of our history. His chivalrous courtesy, his unerring tact, his kindly nature, his unselfi sh and untiring
devotion to their interests have all endeared him to those rough
loyal natures, who would follow him with as much confi dence and
devotion as the grognards of the Guard had in the case of the Great
Emperor. There were some who feared that in Roberts’s case, as in
so many more, the donga and kopje of South Africa might form the
grave and headstone of a military reputation, but far from this being
so he consistently showed a wide sweep of strategy and a power of
conceiving the effect of scattered movements over a great extent of
country which have surprised his warmest admirers. In the second
week of February his dispositions were ready, and there followed
the swift series of blows which brought the Boers upon their knees.
Of these we shall only describe here the exploits of the fi ne force of
cavalry which, after a ride of a hundred miles, broke out of the heart
of that reddish dustcloud and swept the Boer besiegers away from
hard-pressed Kimberley.
In order to strike unexpectedly, Lord Roberts had not only made
a strong demonstration at Koodoosdrift, at the other end of the Boer
line, but he had withdrawn his main force some forty miles south,
taking them down by rail to Belmont and Enslin with such secrecy that even commanding offi cers had no idea whither the troops
were going. The cavalry which had come from French’s command at
Colesberg had already reached the rendezvous, travelling by road to
Naauwpoort, and thence by train. This force consisted of the Carabineers, New South Wales Lancers, Inniskillings, composite regiment
of Household Cavalry, 10th Hussars, with some mounted infantry
289
ARTHUR CONAN DOYLE
and two batteries of Horse Artillery, making a force of nearly three
thousand sabres. To this were added the 9th and 12th Lancers from
Modder River, the 16th Lancers from India, the Scots Greys, which
had been patrolling Orange River from the beginning of the war,
Rimington’s Scouts, and two brigades of mounted infantry under
Colonels Ridley and Hannay. The force under this latter offi cer had
a severe skirmish on its way to the rendezvous and lost fi fty or sixty in
killed, wounded, and missing. Five other batteries of Horse Artillery
were added to the force, making seven in all, with a pontoon section
of Royal Engineers. The total number of men was about fi ve thousand. By the night of Sunday, February 11th, this formidable force
had concentrated at Ramdam, twenty miles north-east of Belmont,
and was ready to advance. At two in the morning of Monday, February 12th, the start was made, and the long sinuous line of nightriders moved off over the shadowy veld, the beat of twenty thousand
hoofs, the clank of steel, and the rumble of gunwheels and tumbrils
swelling into a deep low roar like the surge upon the shingle.
Two rivers, the Riet and the Modder, intervened between French
and Kimberley. By daylight on the 12th the head of his force had
reached Waterval Drift, which was found to be defended by a body
of Boers with a gun. Leaving a small detachment to hold them,
French passed his men over Dekiel’s Drift, higher up the stream,
and swept the enemy out of his position. This considerable force of
Boers had come from Jacobsdal, and were just too late to get into position to resist the crossing. Had we been ten minutes later, the matter would have been much more serious. At the cost of a very small
loss he held both sides of the ford, but it was not until midnight that
the whole long column was brought across, and bivouacked upon
the northern bank. In the morning the strength of the force was
enormously increased by the arrival of one more horseman. It was
Roberts himself, who had ridden over to give the men a send-off,
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