By degrees a full description was given of that great British reverse on the High Veld and what took place after.

When the battle was over and Colonel Benson lay mortally wounded, surrounded by doctors and officers in high authority, Naude advanced, and asked to be allowed to take his papers. The men protested, but Naude ordered them all aside and gently removed every paper from his pockets. He had no important doc.u.ments with him and the private papers were of course returned to the men in charge of the dying officer.

He expired soon afterwards and was mourned by the Boers as well as the English, for he was admired and respected by all for his courage and daring, and his fame as an honourable foe had spread throughout the Boer lines.

Many of them were heard to say that they had only meant to catch him and that they bitterly regretted his death.

It was one of the worst battles, under General Botha, Naude had ever been in. About twelve Boers were killed instantly, and three wounded to death.

With the storming of the cannon, Boers and English were so close together that the one could hear what the other said, and Naude's corporal, Venter, saw a poor soldier fall back mortally wounded, gasping out with his dying breath, "Oh, dear mother!"

G.o.d of pity! who will tell that bereaved parent that her son's last thoughts and words were for her alone?

It was terrible to hear the wounded and dying praying and calling to their G.o.d for help. Nationality, language, enmity, and bitter hatred were forgotten as side by side those mortal foes prepared to meet their G.o.d--_one G.o.d!_

Imploring one another for help, praying for one drop of water to alleviate their dying agonies--in vain!

Two cannon were taken by the Boers, one of which they destroyed at once, keeping the other for their future use.

When all was over General Botha spoke a few touching words to his men, thanking them for their bravery, and congratulating them on their success.

Unpleasant though it may be to think of, it is my duty to relate that, before burial, the soldiers were stripped of their clothes, and every Boer permitted to take what he required, but the bodies were treated with respect.

Naude, for purposes of his own, chose the uniform of the dead Colonel Thorold, which had six bullet holes through it and was covered with blood-stains.

Revolvers, leggings, whistle, helmet, all was complete, even to the stars and crown on the Colonel's shoulders.

Naude felt himself rich indeed in the possession of articles which he knew would be invaluable to him on his next entry into Pretoria.

One of his men took Colonel Benson's uniform, but handed the crown to him (Naude) at his request, and then the bodies were covered with blankets for a hurried burial.

Oh, cruel war when men slay one another!

"Oh, blest Red Cross, like an angel in the trail of the men who slay!"

There were about ten dead English _officers_ on the field and nineteen wounded, of whom three or four died afterwards.

"When did you see General Botha last?" Mrs. van Warmelo inquired.

"About three weeks ago, and then he was looking well and brown. He told me of a narrow escape he had had. He was completely surrounded and barely got off with his life. His hat was left behind, also his Bible and hymn-books. Lord Kitchener, courteously, and with a touch of humour, returned the books to him with a boy's hat which had been found on the field, thinking evidently that it belonged to the General's little son, who was known to go everywhere with him; but General Botha sent the hat back to Lord Kitchener with a message to the effect that it was not his son's, but had belonged to his 'achter-ryder,' and thanking him for the books."[5]

"Tell us some of your own escapes," Hansie begged, "I am sure you have had many."

"So many that I have forgotten them nearly all," he answered, "but one I shall never forget."

He then related how he and twenty of his men had once been pursued for four hours by about one thousand English. The bullets fell like hail about them, and he was keeping the saddle he rode on, as a curiosity, because of the many bullet holes in it. Once a bullet pa.s.sed between his coat and shirt along his stomach, the shock taking his breath away. He was sure he had been mortally wounded, but could not stop to find out, and the very recollection of it still caused him to experience the sensation of coming into close contact with death.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 5: General Botha tells me that the hat which was returned to him by Lord Kitchener had first belonged to his little son, Louis, who had written his name in full, in blue pencil, on the inside of the crown, and had given it, when he had no more use for it, to his little native orderly.]

CHAPTER x.x.xV

MEMORIES BITTER-SWEET

The Captain's visit was not an unmixed joy. Some bitter revelations were made, much pathos mixed with the humours of the situation and tragic experiences related by all--but on these I shall merely touch, as unavoidable and necessary for the completion of my story.

After the treachery of their own people and the arming of the natives, nothing troubled the men so much as the fact that the fighting burghers were, in some parts of the country, suffering from sore gums and showing signs of scurvy, caused by an unchanging diet of meat and mealies. The spies wanted to communicate this to some good, trustworthy doctor and to get medicine for them to take out to the commandos, but Mrs. van Warmelo told them that no medicine in the world could cure that. What they wanted was a change of diet--fresh milk, vegetables, fruit, and an abundant supply of lime-juice, etc.

Sending out lime-juice would be as absurd as impossible, for it would be as a drop in the ocean of want--and as it was, the men were handicapped by the two bottles of good French brandy which they were taking out for medicinal purposes. These could not be thrown across with the other parcels, but would have to be carried on their persons as they wriggled through the barbed wires across the drift of the Aapies River.

In some districts, where the destruction of farms had not yet been completed, the commando found a sufficient supply of fresh fruit and vegetables and were in no immediate danger of the dread disease, but in the neighbourhood of the towns there was nothing more to be done in the way of devastation, and the only fresh food they got was what they took from the enemy. As an instance of the thoroughness of the system of destruction, Naude related how he and his corps of hungry men had one day come upon a kraal containing the bodies of over 500 sheep in an advanced stage of decomposition, with their throats cut or their heads cleft in two by swords. Too far away from towns or camps to be driven to some place where they could have been kept for the use of starving and suffering humanity, they had been slaughtered and left to rot--anything to prevent their falling into the hands of the Boer commandos.

No provisions of any sort were left within their reach and they lived entirely on what they took by main force from the enemy.

A precarious existence indeed!

Not to know from day to day where the next meal would come from and with appet.i.tes sharpened by the healthy, roving, outdoor life they led, no wonder these men uttered imprecations on the heads of those responsible for the systematic devastation of the country and wholesale destruction of food.

The privilege too of stripping their prisoners of their clothes had its disadvantages, for in many cases they swarmed with vermin and had to be boiled before they could be used, while a camp deserted by the English had to be approached warily and with the utmost caution on account of the vermin with which it frequently was infested.

English prisoners were set free (what could the Boers do with them otherwise?), but the traitors caught with them red-handed were shot without mercy--and it was Naude's duty, as Captain of the Secret Service, to see that these executions were carried out. This was to him the hardest task of all.

"His fallen brothers" he called them, and voice and eye when he spoke of them betrayed compa.s.sionate horror and wrath unspeakable.

Armed natives met the same fate, and in a few words he described to his shuddering listeners how it was done, how he informed the doomed man of his fate, how the prisoner pleaded for mercy and offered to join the Boer ranks, how he prayed in despair when he found no mercy, no relenting, how he covered his face or folded his arms, how the shots rang out and he fell down dead.

Scenes such as these were witnessed without number, but the execution of a "fallen brother," when the details were arranged, took place some distance apart, beyond the vision of the burghers who had captured him.

But it was when the subject of the Concentration Camps was broached that the darkest gloom settled over Harmony.

Captain Naude had a young wife and two children in one of the Camps in Natal, and Mrs. Malan had procured, as a surprise for him, snapshots of his dear ones taken in the Camp. When they were placed in his hands he gazed on them for a long time in silence, finally muttering under his breath, "For this the English must die!" and from that moment he was moody and silent.

His thirst for information on the condition of the Irene Camp, as Hansie had found it, was insatiable, and hours were spent in discussing the subject and its probable effect on the duration of the war.

"What do the men think of the Concentration Camps?" Hansie asked.

"Will they give in for the sake of the women and children?"

"No," was the emphatic answer--"never. We all feel that our first duty is to fight until our independence is a.s.sured. _We_ are not responsible for the fate of our women and children, and they let no opportunity pa.s.s of urging us to be brave and steadfast in the fulfilment of our duty to our country. Our spies come from the Camps continually with messages of encouragement and hope; but that the mortality among them is more bitter to bear than anything else, you can understand...."

There was a long pause, and then, the Captain continued gloomily: