London to Ladysmith via Pretoria by Winston Spencer Churchill

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A democratic Government cannot go to war unless the country is behind
it, and until it has general support must not place itself in a position
whence, without fighting, there is no retreat. The difficulty of
rallying public opinion in the face of the efforts of Mr. Morley, Mr.
Courtney, Sir William Harcourt, and others have caused a most dangerous
delay in the despatch of reinforcements. War has been aggravated by the
Peace Party; and thus these humanitarian gentlemen are personally--for
they occupy no official position--responsible for the great loss of
life. They will find their several consolations: Mr. Morley will rejoice
that he has faithfully pursued Mr. Gladstone's policy in South Africa;
Mr. Courtney that he has been consistent at all costs; Sir William
Harcourt that he has hampered the Government. But for those who lose
their sons and brothers in a quarrel thus unnecessarily extended, there
will only remain vain regrets, and to the eyewitness only a bitter
anger.

For the last three months the Imperial Government has been in the
unpleasant position of watching its adversaries grow continually
stronger without being able to make adequate counter-preparations.

But when once this initial disability has been stated, it must also be
admitted that the course of the military operations has been--apart from
their success or failure--very lucky. The Boers had the advantage of
drawing first blood, and the destruction of the armoured train near
Mafeking was magnified by them, as by the sensational Press in Great
Britain, into a serious disaster. A very bad effect was produced in the
undecided districts--it is perhaps wiser not to specify them at this
moment. But a few days later another armoured train ran out from
Kimberley, and its Maxim guns killed five Boers without any loss to the
troops. The magnifying process was also applied to this incident with
equal though opposite results. Then came the news of the battle of
Glencoe. The first accounts, which were very properly controlled--for we
are at war with the pen as well as the sword--told only of the bravery
of the troops, of the storming of the Boer position, and of the capture
of prisoners. That the troops had suffered the heavier loss, that the
Boers had retired to further positions in rear of the first, drawing
their artillery with them, and that General Yule had retreated by forced
marches to Ladysmith after the victory--for tactical victory it
undoubtedly was--leaked into Cape Colony very gradually; nor was it
until a week later that it was known that the wounded had been left
behind, and that the camp with all stores and baggage, except
ammunition, had fallen into the enemy's hands. Before that happened the
news of Elandslaagte had arrived, and this brilliant action, which
reflects no less credit on Generals French and Hamilton who fought it
than on Sir George White who ordered it, dazzled all eyes, so that the
sequel to Glencoe was unnoticed, or at any rate produced little effect
on public opinion.

The Natal Field Force is now concentrated at Ladysmith, and confronts
in daily opposition the bulk of the Boer Army. Though the numbers of the
enemy are superior and their courage claims the respect of their
professional antagonists, it is difficult to believe that any serious
reverse can take place in that quarter, and meanwhile many thousand
soldiers are on the seas. But the fact is now abundantly plain to those
who are acquainted with the local conditions and with the Boer
character, that a fierce, certainly bloody, possibly prolonged struggle
lies before the army of South Africa. The telegrams, however, which we
receive from Great Britain of the national feeling, of the bye-election,
of Lord Rosebery's speech, are full of encouragement and confidence. 'At
last,' says the British colonist, as he shoulders his rifle and marches
out to fight, no less bravely than any soldier (witness the casualty
lists), for the ties which bind South Africa to the Empire--'at last
they have made up their minds at home.'

CHAPTER III

ALONG THE SOUTHERN FRONTIER

East London: November 5, 1899.

We have left Headquarters busy with matters that as yet concern no one
but themselves in the Mount Nelson Hotel at Cape Town--a most excellent
and well-appointed establishment, which may be thoroughly appreciated
after a sea voyage, and which, since many of the leading Uitlanders have
taken up their abode there during the war, is nicknamed 'The Helot's
Rest.' Last night I started by rail for East London, whence a small ship
carries the weekly English mail to Natal, and so by this circuitous
route I hope to reach Ladysmith on Sunday morning. We have thus gained
three days on our friends who proceed by the 'Dunottar Castle,' and who
were mightily concerned when they heard--too late to follow--of our
intentions. But though it is true in this case that the longest way
round is the shortest way, there were possibilities of our journey being
interrupted, because the line from De Aar Junction to Naauwpoort runs
parallel to the southern frontier of the Free State, and though hostile
enterprises have not yet been attempted against this section of the
railways they must always be expected.

Railway travelling in South Africa is more expensive but just as
comfortable as in India. Lying-down accommodation is provided for all,
and meals can be obtained at convenient stopping places. The train,
which is built on the corridor system, runs smoothly over the rails--so
smoothly, indeed, that I found no difficulty in writing. The sun is
warm, and the air keen and delicious. But the scenery would depress the
most buoyant spirits. We climbed up the mountains during the night, and
with the daylight the train was in the middle of the Great Karroo.
Wherefore was this miserable land of stone and scrub created? Huge
mounds of crumbling rock, fashioned by the rains into the most curious
and unexpected shapes, rise from the gloomy desert of the plain. Yet,
though the Karroo looks a hopeless wilderness, flocks of sheep at
distant intervals--one sheep requires six hundred acres of this scrappy
pasture for nourishment--manage to subsist; and in consequence, now and
again the traveller sees some far-off farm.

We look about eagerly for signs of war. Little is as yet to be seen, and
the Karroo remains unsympathetic. But all along the southern frontier of
the Free State the expectation of early collision grows. The first sign
after leaving Cape Town is the Proclamation against treason published by
Sir Alfred Milner. The notice-boards of the railway stations are freely
placarded with the full text in English and Dutch, beginning with
'Whereas a state of war exists between the Government of her Majesty and
the Governments of the South African Republic and of the Orange Free
State ...' continuing to enjoin good and loyal behaviour on all,
detailing the pains and penalties for disobedience, and ending with 'God
save the Queen.' Both races have recorded their opinions on their
respective versions: the British by underlining the penalties, the Dutch
by crossing out the first word of 'God Save the Queen.' It is signed 'A.
Milner,' and below, in bitter irony, 'W.P. Schreiner.'

Beyond Matjesfontein every bridge, and even every culvert, is watched by
a Kaffir with a flag, so that the train runs no risk of coming on
unexpected demolitions. On the road to De Aar we passed the second half
of the Brigade Division of Artillery, which sailed so long ago from the
Mersey in the notorious transports 'Zibengla' and 'Zayathla.' The
gunners were hurrying to the front in three long trains, each taking
half a battery complete with guns, horses, and men. All were
light-hearted and confident, as soldiers going off to the wars always
are, and in this case their, satisfaction at being on land after five
weeks of uncomfortable voyage in antiquated ships was easily to be
understood. But this is no time for reproaches.

At Beaufort West grave news awaited the mail, and we learned of the
capitulation of twelve hundred soldiers near Ladysmith. It is generally
believed that this will precipitate a rising of the Dutch throughout
this part of the colony and an invasion by the commandos now gathered
along the Orange River. The Dutch farmers talk loudly and confidently of
'our victories,' meaning those of the Boers, and the racial feeling runs
high. But the British colonists have an implicit faith--marvellous when
the past is remembered--in the resolve of the Imperial Government and of
the nation never to abandon them again.

At De Aar the stage of our journey which may be said to have been
uncertain began. Armoured trains patrol the line; small parties of armed
police guard the bridges; infantry and artillery detachments occupy the
towns. De Aar, Colesberg, and Stormberg are garrisoned as strongly as
the present limited means allow, and all the forces, regulars and
volunteers alike, are full of enthusiasm. But, on the other hand, the
reports of Boer movements seem to indicate that a hostile advance is
imminent. The Colesberg bridge across the Orange River has been seized
by the enemy, the line between Bethulie and Colesberg has just been cut,
and each train from De Aar to Stormberg is expected to be the last to
pass unassailed. We, however, slept peacefully through the night, and,
passing Colesberg safely, arrived at Stormberg, beyond which all is
again secure.

Stormberg Junction stands at the southern end of a wide expanse of
rolling grass country, and though the numerous rocky hills, or kopjes as
they are called, which rise inconveniently on all sides, make its
defence by a small force difficult, a large force occupying an extended
position would be secure. Here we found the confirmation of many
rumours. The news of a Boer advance on Burghersdorp, twenty-five miles
away, is, it seems, well founded, and when our train arrived the
evacuation of Stormberg by its garrison, of a half-battalion of the
Berkshire Regiment, 350 men of the Naval Brigade, a company of mounted
infantry, and a few guns, was busily proceeding.

The sailors were already in their train, and only prevented from
starting by the want of an engine. The infantry and artillery were to
start in a few hours. It is rather an unsatisfactory business, though
the arrival of more powerful forces will soon restore the situation.
Stormberg is itself an important railway junction. For more than a week
the troops have been working night and day to put it in a state of
defence. Little redoubts have been built on the kopjes, entrenchments
have been dug, and the few houses near the station are already strongly
fortified. I was shown one of these by the young officer in charge. The
approaches were, cleared of everything except wire fences and
entanglements; the massive walls were loopholed, the windows barricaded
with sandbags, and the rooms inside broken one into the other for
convenience in moving about.

Its garrison of twenty-five men and its youthful commander surveyed the
work with pride. They had laid in stores of all kinds for ten days, and
none doubted that Fort Chabrol, as they called it, would stand a gallant
siege. Then suddenly had come the message to evacuate and retreat. So it
was with the others. The train with the naval detachment and its guns
steamed off, and we gave it a feeble cheer. Another train awaited the
Berkshires. The mounted infantry were already on the march. 'Mayn't we
even blow up this lot?' said a soldier, pointing to the house he had
helped to fortify. But there was no such order, only this one
which seemed to pervade the air: 'The enemy are coming.
Retreat--retreat--retreat!' The stationmaster--one of the best types of
Englishmen to be found on a long journey--was calm and cheerful.

'No more traffic north of this,' he said. 'Yours was the last train
through from De Aar. I shall send away all my men by the special
to-night. And that's the end as far as Stormberg goes.'

'And you?'

'Oh, I shall stay. I have lived here for twelve years, and am well
known. Perhaps I may be able to protect the company's property.'

While we waited the armoured train returned from patrolling--an engine
between two carriages cloaked from end to end with thick plates and
slabs of blue-grey iron. It had seen nothing of the advancing Boers,
but, like us and like the troops, it had to retire southwards. There
were fifty Uitlanders from Johannesburg on the platform. They had been
employed entrenching; now they were bundled back again towards East
London.

So we left Stormberg in much anger and some humiliation, and jolted away
towards the open sea, where British supremacy is not yet contested by
the Boer. At Molteno we picked up a hundred volunteers--fine-looking
fellows all eager to encounter the enemy, but much surprised at the turn
events had taken. They, too, were ordered to fall back. The Boers were
advancing, and to despondent minds even the rattle of the train seemed
to urge 'Retreat, retreat, retreat.'

I do not desire to invest this wise and prudent though discouraging move
with more than its proper importance. Anything is better than to leave
small garrisons to be overwhelmed. Until the Army Corps comes, the
situation will continue to be unsatisfactory, and the ground to be
recovered afterwards will increase in extent. But with the arrival of
powerful and well-equipped forces the tide of war will surely turn.

CHAPTER IV

IN NATAL

Estcourt: November 6, 1899.

The reader may remember that we started post haste from Cape Town, and,
having the good fortune to pass along the southern frontier from De Aar
to Stormberg by the last train before the interruption of traffic, had
every hope of reaching Ladysmith while its investment was incomplete. I
had looked forward to writing an account of our voyage from East London
to Durban while on board the vessel; but the weather was so tempestuous,
and the little steamer of scarcely 100 tons burthen so buffeted by the
waves, that I lay prostrate in all the anguish of sea-sickness, and had
no thought for anything else. Moreover, we were delayed some twenty
hours by contrary winds; nor was it until we had passed St. John's that
the gale, as if repenting, veered suddenly to the south-west and added
as much to our speed as it had formerly delayed us. With the change of
the wind the violence of the waves to some degree abated, and, though
unable to then record them on paper, I had an opportunity of gaining
some impressions of the general aspect of the coasts of Pondoland and
Natal. These beautiful countries stretch down to the ocean in smooth
slopes of the richest verdure, broken only at intervals by lofty bluffs
crowned with forests. The many rivulets to which the pasture owes its
life and the land its richness glide to the shore through deep-set
creeks and chines, or plunge over the cliffs in cascades which the
strong winds scatter into clouds of spray.

These are regions of possibility, and as we drove along before our now
friendly wind I could not but speculate on the future. Here are wide
tracts of fertile soil watered by abundant rains. The temperate sun
warms the life within the soil. The cooling breeze refreshes the
inhabitant. The delicious climate stimulates the vigour of the European.
The highway of the sea awaits the produce of his labour. All Nature
smiles, and here at last is a land where white men may rule and prosper.
As yet only the indolent Kaffir enjoys its bounty, and, according to the
antiquated philosophy of Liberalism, it is to such that it should for
ever belong. But while Englishmen choke and fester in crowded cities,
while thousands of babies are born every month who are never to have a
fair chance in life, there will be those who will dream another dream of
a brave system of State-aided--almost State-compelled--emigration, a
scheme of old age pensions that shall anticipate old age, and by
preventing paupers terminate itself; a system that shall remove the
excess of the old land to provide the deficiency of the new, and shall
offer even to the most unfortunate citizen of the Empire fresh air and
open opportunity. And as I pondered on all these things, the face of the
country seemed changed. Thriving ports and townships rose up along the
shore, and, upon the hillsides, inland towers, spires, and tall chimneys
attested the wealth and industry of men. Here in front of us was New
Brighton; the long shelving ledge of rock was a seawall already made,
rows of stately buildings covered the grassy slopes; the shipping of
many nations lay in the roadstead; above the whole scene waved The Flag,
and in the foreground on the sandy beach the great-grandchildren of the
crossing-sweeper and the sandwich-man sported by the waves that beat by
the Southern Pole, or sang aloud for joy in the beauty of their home and
the pride of their race. And then with a lurch--for the motion was still
considerable--I came back from the land of dreams to reality and the
hideous fact that Natal is invaded and assailed by the Boer.

The little steamer reached Durban safely at midnight on November 4, and
we passed an impatient six hours in a sleeping town waiting for daylight
and news. Both came in their turn. The sun rose, and we learned that
Ladysmith was cut off. Still, 'As far as you can as quickly as you can'
must be the motto of the war correspondent, and seven o'clock found us
speeding inland in the extra coach of a special train carrying the
mails. The hours I passed in Durban were not without occupation. The
hospital ship 'Sumatra' lay close to our moorings, and as soon as it was
light I visited her to look for friends, and found, alas! several in a
sorry plight. All seemed to be as well as the tenderest care and the
most lavish expenditure of money could make them. All told much the same
tale--the pluck and spirit of the troops, the stubborn unpretentious
valour of the Boer, the searching musketry. Everyone predicted a
prolonged struggle.

'All these colonials tell you,' said an officer severely wounded at
Elandslaagte, 'that the Boers only want one good thrashing to satisfy
them. Don't you believe it. They mean going through with this to the
end. What about our Government?'

And the answer that all were united at home, and that Boer constancy
would be met with equal perseverance and greater resources, lighted the
pain-drawn features with a hopeful smile.

'Well, I never felt quite safe with those politicians. I can't get about
for two months' (he was shot through the thigh), 'but I hope to be in at
the death. It's our blood against theirs.'

Pietermaritzburg is sixty miles from Durban, but as the railway zigzags
up and down hill and contorts itself into curves that would horrify the
domestic engineer, the journey occupies four hours. The town looks more
like Ootacamund than any place I have seen. To those who do not know the
delightful hill station of Southern India let me explain that
Pietermaritzburg stands in a basin of smooth rolling downs, broken
frequently by forests of fir and blue gum trees. It is a sleepy,
dead-alive place. Even the fact that Colonel Knowle, the military
engineer, was busily putting it into a state of defence, digging up its
hills, piercing its walls, and encircling it with wire obstructions did
not break its apathy. The 'Times of Natal' struggled to rouse
excitement, and placarded its office with the latest telegrams from the
front, some of which had reached Pietermaritzburg _via_ London. But the
composure of the civil population is a useful factor in war, and I wish
it were within the power of my poor pen to bring home to the people of
England how excellently the colonists of Natal have deserved of the
State.

There are several points to be remembered in this connection. First, the
colonists have had many dealings with the Boers. They knew their
strength, they feared their animosity. But they have never for one
moment lost sight of their obligations as a British colony. Their
loyalty has been splendid. From the very beginning they warned the
Imperial Government that their territories would be invaded. Throughout
the course of the long negotiations they knew that if war should come,
on them would fall the first fury of the storm. Nevertheless, they
courageously supported and acclaimed the action of the Ministry. Now at
last there is war. It means a good deal to all of us, but more than to
any it comes home to the Natalian. He is invaded; his cattle have been
seized by the Boer; his towns are shelled or captured; the most powerful
force on which he relies for protection is isolated in Ladysmith; his
capital is being loopholed and entrenched; Newcastle has been abandoned,
Colenso has fallen, Estcourt is threatened; the possibility that the
whole province will be overrun stares him in the face. From the
beginning he asked for protection. From the beginning he was promised
complete protection; but scarcely a word of complaint is heard. The
townsfolk are calm and orderly, the Press dignified and sober. The men
capable of bearing arms have responded nobly. Boys of sixteen march with
men of fifty to war--to no light easy war. All the volunteers are in the
field bearing their full share of the fighting like men. Nor are the
Outlanders backward in their own quarrel. The Imperial Light Infantry is
eagerly filled. The Imperial Light Horse can find no more vacancies,
not even for those who will serve without pay.

I talked with a wounded Gordon Highlander--one of those who dashed
across the famous causeway of Dargai and breasted the still more
glorious slope of Elandslaagte.

'We had the Imperial Horse with us,' he said. 'They're the best I've
ever seen.'

The casualty lists tell the same tale. To storm the hill the regiment
dismounted less than two hundred men. They reached the top unchecked,
their Colonel, their Adjutant, Lieutenant Barnes, seven other officers,
and upwards of sixty men killed or wounded--nearly 30 per cent. Many of
this corps came from Johannesburg. After this who will dare call
Outlanders cowards? Not that it will ever matter again.

Viewed in quieter days, the patient, trustful attitude of this colony of
Natal will impress the historian. The devotion of its people to their
Sovereign and to their motherland should endear them to all good
Englishmen, and win them general respect and sympathy; and full
indemnity to all individual colonists who have suffered loss must stand
as an Imperial debt of honour.

CHAPTER V

A CRUISE IN THE ARMOURED TRAIN

Estcourt: November 9, 1899.

How many more letters shall I write you from an unsatisfactory address?
Sir George White's Headquarters are scarcely forty miles away, but
between them and Estcourt stretches the hostile army. Whether it may be
possible or wise to try to pass the lines of investment is a question
which I cannot yet decide; and meanwhile I wait here at the nearest post
collecting such information as dribbles through native channels, and
hoping that early events may clear the road. To wait is often weary
work--but even at this exciting time I come to a standstill at length
with a distinct feeling of relief. The last month has been passed in
continual travel. The fading, confused faces at Waterloo as the train
swept along the platform; the cheering crowds at Southampton; the
rolling decks of the 'Dunottar Castle;' the suspense, the excitement of
first news; a brief day's scurry at Cape Town; the journey to East
London by the last train to pass along the frontier; the tumultuous
voyage in the 'Umzimvubu' amid so great a gale that but for the Royal
Mail the skipper would have put back to port; on without a check to
Pietermaritzburg, and thence, since the need seemed urgent and the
traffic slow, by special train here--all moving, restless pictures--and
here at last--a pause.

Let us review the situation. On Wednesday last, on November 1, the Boer
lines of investment drew round Ladysmith. On Thursday the last train
passed down the railway under the fire of artillery. That night the line
was cut about four miles north of Colenso. Telegraphic communication
also ceased. On Friday Colenso was itself attacked. A heavy gun came
into action from the hills which dominate the town, and the slender
garrison of infantry volunteers and naval brigade evacuated in a hurry,
and, covered to some extent by the armoured train, fell back on
Estcourt.

Estcourt is a South African town--that is to say, it is a collection of
about three hundred detached stone or corrugated iron houses, nearly all
one-storied, arranged along two broad streets--for space is
plentiful--or straggling away towards the country. The little place lies
in a cup of the hills, which rise in green undulations on all sides. For
this reason it will be a very difficult place to defend if the invaders
should come upon it. It is, besides, of mean and insignificant aspect;
but, like all these towns in Natal, it is the centre of a large
agricultural district, at once the market and the storehouse of dozens
of prosperous farms scattered about the country, and consequently it
possesses more importance than the passing stranger would imagine.
Indeed, it was a surprise to find on entering the shops how great a
variety and quantity of goods these unpretentious shanties contained.

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