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A Massachusetts magazine of history and biography, held for its local-history reporting on Boston and its neighbors.","text_extract":"The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Petticoat Commando: Boer Women in Secret Service\r\n \r\nThis eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and\r\nmost other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions\r\nwhatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms\r\nof the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online\r\nat www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States,\r\nyou will have to check the laws of the country where you are located\r\nbefore using this eBook.\r\n\r\nTitle: The Petticoat Commando: Boer Women in Secret Service\r\n\r\nAuthor: Johanna Brandt\r\n\r\n\r\n \r\nRelease date: December 26, 2006 [eBook #20194]\r\n Most recently updated: January 1, 2021\r\n\r\nLanguage: English\r\n\r\nOther information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/20194\r\n\r\nCredits: E-text prepared by Jeannie Howse, Jonathan Ingram, and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team (https://www.pgdp.net/c/)\r\n\r\n\r\n*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PETTICOAT COMMANDO: BOER WOMEN IN SECRET SERVICE ***\r\n\r\n\r\nE-text prepared by Jeannie Howse, Jonathan Ingram, and the Project\r\nGutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team (https://www.pgdp.net/c/)\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nNote: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this\r\n file which includes the original illustrations.\r\n See 20194-h.htm or 20194-h.zip:\r\n (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/0/1/9/20194/20194-h/20194-h.htm)\r\n or\r\n (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/0/1/9/20194/20194-h.zip)\r\n\r\n\r\n +-----------------------------------------------------------+\r\n | Transcriber's Note: |\r\n | |\r\n | Inconsistent hyphenation in the original document has |\r\n | been preserved. |\r\n | |\r\n | Obvious typographical errors have been corrected in this |\r\n | text. For a complete list, please see the end of this |\r\n | document. |\r\n | |\r\n +-----------------------------------------------------------+\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nTHE PETTICOAT COMMANDO\r\n\r\nOr\r\n\r\nBoer Women in Secret Service\r\n\r\nby\r\n\r\nJOHANNA BRANDT\r\n\r\nWith Ten Illustrations\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n[Illustration: THE WRITER]\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nMills & Boon, Limited\r\n49 Rupert Street\r\nLondon, W.\r\nColonial Edition\r\nPublished 1913\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n To\r\n HANSIE'S MOTHER\r\n AS A PEACE-OFFERING\r\n FOR HAVING BROUGHT HER INTO PUBLICITY\r\n IN DIRECT OPPOSITION\r\n TO HER WISHES\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nFOREWORD\r\n\r\n\r\nIn introducing the English version of this book I venture to bespeak a\r\nwelcome for it, not only for the light which it throws on some\r\nlittle-known incidents of the South African war, but also because of\r\nthe keen personal interest of the events recorded. It is more than a\r\nhistory. It is a dramatic picture of the hopes and fears, the devotion\r\nand bitterness with which some patriotic women in Pretoria watched\r\nand, as far as they could, took part in the war which was slowly\r\ndrawing to its conclusion on the veld outside.\r\n\r\nI do not associate myself with the opinions expressed by the writer as\r\nto the causes of the war or the methods adopted to bring it to an end,\r\nor as to the policy which led to the Concentration Camps, and the\r\ncauses of the terrible mortality which prevailed during the first\r\nmonths of their existence. On these matters many readers will hold\r\ndifferent opinions from the writer, or will prefer to let judgment be\r\nin suspense and to look to the historian of the future for a final\r\nverdict. We are still too near the events to be impartial. But this\r\nbook does not challenge or invite controversy. Fortunately for South\r\nAfrica, most of us on both sides can now discuss the events of the war\r\nwithout bitterness and understand and respect the feelings of those\r\nwho were most sharply divided by these events from ourselves.\r\n\r\nThe greater part of the narrative comes from a diary kept during the\r\nwar with unusual fullness and vividness. The difficulty experienced by\r\nthe writer of the diary in communicating to friends outside Pretoria\r\ninformation about what was passing inside, and in unburdening herself\r\nof the feelings roused in her by the events of the war, made the diary\r\nmore than usually intimate. To understand fully many of the narratives\r\nwhich have been transferred from it to this book, it must be\r\nremembered that one is reading, not something written from memory\r\nyears after the event, but rather the record of a conversation at the\r\ntime, in which the diarist is describing the events as if to a friend\r\nwho shares to the full all her own feelings and to whom she can speak\r\nwithout reserve.\r\n\r\nMuch has happened in the ten years which have passed since the end of\r\nthe war. The country which was distracted by the conflicting ideals\r\nand interests of its different Governments and peoples has become the\r\nUnion of South Africa. It is now one State. It remains that it should\r\ncall forth a spirit of patriotism and nationality which will unite and\r\nnot divide its people.\r\n\r\n PATRICK DUNCAN.\r\n\r\nJOHANNESBURG, 1912.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nINTRODUCTION\r\n\r\n\r\nIf, by inspiring feelings of patriotism in the hearts of some of my\r\nreaders, especially those members of the rising generation to whom\r\nthis story of adventure may appeal, I succeed in raising the standard\r\nof national life, this book will have achieved the purpose for which\r\nit was written, and I shall feel more than compensated for having set\r\naside the reluctance with which I faced the thought of the publicity\r\nwhen first I began the work.\r\n\r\nI have tried to give the public some idea of what was done by Boer\r\nwomen, during the great Anglo-Boer war, to keep their men in the field\r\nand to support them in what proved to be a hopeless struggle for\r\nindependence and liberty.\r\n\r\nAs far as I was able I have also described the perils and hardships\r\nconnected with the Secret Service of the Boers and the heroism and\r\nresource displayed by the men.\r\n\r\nAlthough it is with the knowledge and consent of the Boer leaders that\r\nI give publicity to what is known to me of the methods employed in the\r\nSecret Service of the Boers, I do not wish to convey the impression\r\nthat these events of the war at any time bore an official character.\r\n\r\nIt is a purely personal narrative and has only been written at the\r\nrepeated request, during the last ten years, of the many friends\r\nassociated with the experiences of the diarist and of the principal\r\ncharacters appearing in this book.\r\n\r\nIn order to preserve the historical value of the book no fictitious\r\nnames have been employed.\r\n\r\nThere are, as far as we know, very few records of this nature in\r\nexistence, owing to the dangers connected with keeping a diary under\r\nmartial law, and it seemed a pity, therefore, to withhold from the\r\npublic materials which may be of use to those who are interested in\r\nstudying or writing the history of those critical years.\r\n\r\nI cannot vouch for the truth of every war rumour related here, nor for\r\nthe accuracy of the information which I have obtained from other\r\npeople, but the experiences of the diarist, as they were recorded from\r\nday to day, are correct in every detail.\r\n\r\nMy Dutch edition of this book, _Die Kappie Kommando_, is now appearing\r\nin the Dutch South African bi-monthly journal, _Die Brandwag_, and\r\nwill, when completed, be published in book form in Holland.\r\n\r\nIn conclusion, I should like to take this opportunity of expressing my\r\nthanks to the Honourable Sir Richard Solomon, G.C.M.G., etc., for the\r\nhelp and assistance which he has so kindly given me in connection with\r\nthe publication of my book.\r\n\r\n THE WRITER.\r\n\r\nJOHANNESBURG, 1912.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nCONTENTS\r\n\r\n\r\n PAGE\r\nFOREWORD BY PATRICK DUNCAN, C.M.G., M.L.A. vii\r\n\r\nINTRODUCTION ix\r\n\r\nCHAPTER\r\n I. THE SCENE OF ACTION 1\r\n\r\n II. HOW THE MINES WERE SAVED 15\r\n\r\n III. THE SURRENDER OF THE GOLDEN CITY 24\r\n\r\n IV. MARTIAL LAW UNDER THE ENEMY 32\r\n\r\n V. ONLY A BIT OF RIBBON GAY! 42\r\n\r\n VI. PASSES AND PERMITS 46\r\n\r\n VII. POSTAGE BY STRATEGY 56\r\n\r\n VIII. OUTWITTING THE CENSOR 64\r\n\r\n IX. JAN CELLIERS, POET AND PATRIOT 72\r\n\r\n X. A LITTLE ADVENTURE WITH THE BRITISH SOLDIER 82\r\n\r\n XI. PRISONER OF WAR 92\r\n\r\n XII. THE CONCENTRATION CAMPS 106\r\n\r\n XIII. A CONSULAR VISIT TO IRENE CAMP 124\r\n\r\n XIV. NEW DEVELOPMENTS 135\r\n\r\n XV. THE FORMATION OF THE NATIONAL SCOUTS CORPS 146\r\n\r\n XVI. A CONSIGNMENT OF EXPLOSIVES 153\r\n\r\n XVII. THE FIRST INTERVIEW WITH SPIES, INTRODUCING TWO\r\n HEROES 157\r\n\r\n XVIII. THE CASE OF SPOELSTRA 166\r\n\r\n XIX. DIAMOND CUT DIAMOND! 179\r\n\r\n XX. THANKSGIVING AND HUMILIATION 187\r\n\r\n XXI. FLIPPIE AND CO. 194\r\n\r\n XXII. THE SECRET RAILWAY TIME-TABLE 204\r\n\r\n XXIII. THE SYSTEM EMPLOYED BY THE SECRET COMMITTEE 213\r\n\r\n XXIV. THE DEATH OF ADOLPH KRAUSE 222\r\n\r\n XXV. THE SHOEMAKER AT WORK 229\r\n\r\n XXVI. BITTEN BY OUR OWN DOGS 234\r\n\r\n XXVII. THE BETRAYAL OF THE SECRET COMMITTEE.\r\n A MEMORABLE DAY OF TROUBLE 240\r\n\r\n XXVIII. HANSIE EARNING THE VOTE 252\r\n\r\n XXIX. A WAR-BABY AND A CURIOUS CHRISTENING 262\r\n\r\n XXX. FORMING A NEW COMMITTEE 272\r\n\r\n XXXI. \"TEA FOR TWO\" 279\r\n\r\n XXXII. KIDNAPPING MAUSER THE KITTEN 283\r\n\r\n XXXIII. THE FIRST SPIES AT HARMONY 291\r\n\r\n XXXIV. THE CAPTAIN'S VISIT 301\r\n\r\n XXXV. MEMORIES BITTER-SWEET 312\r\n\r\n XXXVI. A SILENT DEPARTURE. \"FARE THEE WELL\" 316\r\n\r\n XXXVII. BETRAYED 324\r\n\r\nXXXVIII. THE RAID ON HARMONY 333\r\n\r\n XXXIX. THE WATCHWORD. OILING THE HINGES 343\r\n\r\n XL. PEACE, PEACE--AND THERE IS NO PEACE 356\r\n\r\nCONCLUSION 375\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nLIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS\r\n\r\n\r\nTHE WRITER _Frontispiece_\r\n FACING PAGE\r\nMRS. VAN WARMELO 4\r\n\r\nTHE SURRENDER OF THE GOLDEN CITY 30\r\n\r\nLETTER FROM HEAD OF SECRET SERVICE TO PRESIDENT 70\r\n\r\nTHE SIX WILLOWS, HARMONY 83\r\n\r\nCAPTAIN NAUDÉ 136\r\n\r\nW.J. BOTHA 158\r\n\r\nGENTLEMAN JIM'S ROOM 178\r\n\r\nADOLPH KRAUSE 225\r\n\r\nTHE APIARY, HARMONY 289\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nTHE PETTICOAT COMMANDO\r\n\r\n\r\nCHAPTER I\r\n\r\nTHE SCENE OF ACTION\r\n\r\n\r\nWhen, on October 11th, 1899, shortly before 5 o'clock in the\r\nafternoon, martial law was proclaimed throughout the Transvaal and\r\nOrange Free State, South Africa, and after the great exodus of British\r\nsubjects had taken place, there remained in Pretoria, where the\r\nprincipal events recorded here took place, a harmonious community of\r\nBoers and sympathisers, who for eight months enjoyed the novel\r\nadvantage of Boer freedom under Boer martial law.\r\n\r\nThe remaining English residents were few in number, and kept, to all\r\nappearance, \"strictly neutral,\" until the morning of June 5th, 1900,\r\nwhen the British troops poured into the capital.\r\n\r\nThe two people chiefly concerned in this story, mother and daughter,\r\nlived in Sunnyside, a south-eastern suburb of Pretoria, on a large and\r\nbeautiful old property, appropriately called Harmony, one of the\r\noldest estates in the capital.\r\n\r\nThis historical place consisted of a simple, comfortable farm-house,\r\nwith a rambling garden--a romantic spot, and an ideal setting for the\r\nadventures and enterprises here recorded.\r\n\r\nAt the time our story opens, the owner, Mrs. van Warmelo, was living\r\nalone on it with her daughter, Hansie, a girl of twenty-two, the\r\ndiarist referred to in the Introduction.\r\n\r\nThe other members of the family, though they took no part in those\r\nevents of the war which took place within the capital, were so closely\r\nconnected with the principal figures in this book that their\r\nintroduction will be necessary here.\r\n\r\nThe family consisted of five, two daughters and three sons. The elder\r\ndaughter was married and was living at Wynberg near Cape Town, the\r\nyounger, as we have seen, was with her mother in Pretoria during the\r\nwar, while of the sons, two, the eldest and the youngest, Dietlof and\r\nFritz, were on commando, having left the capital with the first\r\ncontingent of volunteers on September 28th.\r\n\r\nThe third brother, Willem, who had been studying in Holland when the\r\nwar broke out, had, with his mother's knowledge and permission, given\r\nup his nearly completed studies and had come to South Africa, to take\r\npart in the deadly struggle in which his fellow-countrymen were\r\nengaged.\r\n\r\nIn order to achieve his purpose, he had taken the only route open to\r\nhim, the eastern route through Delagoa Bay, and had joined his\r\nbrothers in the field, after a brief sojourn with his mother and\r\nsister at Harmony.\r\n\r\nConsidering the circumstances under which he had joined the Boer\r\nforces and the sacrifice he had made for love of fatherland, it was\r\nparticularly sad that he should have been made a prisoner at the last\r\ngreat fight at the Tugela, the battle of Pieter's Height in Natal, on\r\nFebruary 27th, after a very short experience of commando life.\r\n\r\nHe was lodged in the Maritzburg jail at this time, where things would\r\nhave gone hard with him, but for the loving-kindness of his cousin,\r\nMiss Berning, now Lady Bale, who frequently visited him with her\r\nsister, and provided him with baskets of fruit and other delicacies,\r\nwhich helped greatly to brighten the long months of his imprisonment.\r\n\r\nLater on, through the influence of his brother-in-law, Mr. Henry\r\nCloete, of \"Alphen,\" Wynberg, he was released on parole, and allowed\r\nto return to Holland to complete his studies. His name therefore will\r\nno more appear in these pages.\r\n\r\nHe was \"out of action\" once and for all, and could not be made use of,\r\neven when, later on, through the development of the events with which\r\nthis book deals, his services were most required by his mother and\r\nsister.\r\n\r\nThe other two brothers, as we have said, had left Pretoria with the\r\nfirst volunteers.\r\n\r\nIt is strange that the first blood shed in that terrible war should\r\nhave been that of a young Boer accidentally shot by a comrade.\r\n\r\nAs a train, laden with its burden of brave and hopeful burghers,\r\nsteamed slowly through the cutting on the south-eastern side of\r\nPretoria, volleys of farewell shots were fired.\r\n\r\nIt is customary to extract the bullets from the cartridges on such\r\noccasions, but one of the burghers must have omitted to do this, with\r\nthe result that the bullet, rebounding from the rocks, penetrated a\r\ncarriage window, and seriously wounded one of the occupants.\r\n\r\nWas this event prophetic of a later development of the war, when, as\r\nwe shall see, Boer shed the blood of brother Boer in the formation of\r\nthe National Scouts Corps?\r\n\r\nMrs. van Warmelo was a \"voor-trekker,\" a pioneer, in every sense of\r\nthe word. As a girl of fourteen she had left Natal with her parents\r\nand had \"trekked,\" with other families, through the wild waste of\r\ncountry, into the unknown and barbaric regions in which she was\r\ndestined to spend her youth.\r\n\r\nShe had watched the growth of a new country, the building up of a new\r\nrace. She had known all the hardships and dangers of life in an\r\nunsettled and uncivilised land, had been through a number of Kaffir\r\nwars and could speak, through personal experience, of many adventures\r\nwith savage foes and wild beasts. Her children knew her stories by\r\nheart, and it is not to be wondered at that they grew up with the love\r\nof adventure strong in them. And above all things, they grew up with a\r\nstrong love for the strange, rich, wild country for which their\r\nforefathers had fought and suffered.\r\n\r\nMrs. van Warmelo was the eldest daughter of a family of sixteen. Her\r\nfather, Dietlof Siegfried Maré, for many years Landdrost of\r\nZoutpansberg, that northern territory of the Transvaal, was a direct\r\ndescendant of the Huguenot fugitives, and was a typical Frenchman,\r\nshort of stature, dark, vivacious, and exceedingly humorous, a man\r\nremembered by all who knew him for his great hospitality and for\r\nthe shrewd, quaint humour of his sayings.\r\n\r\n [Illustration: MRS. VAN WARMELO.]\r\n\r\nSome years after their arrival in Zoutpansberg, Mrs. van Warmelo had\r\nmarried a Hollander, a young minister of the Dutch Reformed Church. Of\r\nhim it is not necessary to speak in this book.\r\n\r\nHe had taken his part in the first Anglo-Boer war and had passed away\r\nin Heidelberg, Transvaal, leaving to the people of his adopted\r\nfatherland and to his children a rich inheritance in the memory of a\r\nlife spent in doing noble deeds--a life of rare self-sacrifice.\r\n\r\nHis family had left Heidelberg a few years after his death, and had\r\ntaken up their abode in the capital in order to be near Mrs. van\r\nWarmelo's married daughter, Mrs. Cloete, who then lived close to\r\nHarmony, in Sunnyside.\r\n\r\nIt was a wild, romantic suburb in those days, being still almost\r\nentirely in its natural state. Grass-covered hills, clumps of mimosa,\r\nand other wild trees, with here and there an old homestead\r\npicturesquely situated in isolated spots, were all there was to be\r\nseen.\r\n\r\nOf all the private properties in this suburb, Harmony was the most\r\novergrown and neglected when Mrs. van Warmelo first took possession of\r\nit.\r\n\r\nIt was bounded at the lower, the western end, by the Aapies River, a\r\nharmless rivulet in its normal state--almost dry, in fact, during the\r\nwinter season--but in flood a most dangerous and destructive element,\r\noverflowing its banks and sweeping away every obstruction in its wild\r\ncourse.\r\n\r\nThe property was overgrown with rank vegetation and reminded one of\r\nthe impenetrable forest abode of the \"Sleeping Beauty\" of fairy-tale\r\nfame.\r\n\r\nFriends wondered that Mrs. van Warmelo had the courage to live alone\r\nwith her daughter Hansie in such a wild and desolate spot, and they\r\nwondered still more when they heard of the alarming experience the two\r\nladies had the very first night they spent in their new home.\r\n\r\nOn their arrival, there were still workmen busy repairing the house,\r\nand Mrs. van Warmelo pointed out to one of them that the skylight\r\nabove the bathroom door had not yet been put in. The man nailed a\r\npiece of canvas over it, with the remark that that would do for the\r\nnight, and that he would put in the skylight on his return the next\r\nday. Mrs. van Warmelo was only half satisfied, but left the matter\r\nthere.\r\n\r\nDuring the night one of her own servants, a sullen,\r\ntreacherous-looking native, recently in her employment, entered the\r\nbathroom by putting a ladder against the door and tearing away the\r\ncanvas from the skylight.\r\n\r\nHe must then have unlocked the door on the inside, striking about a\r\ndozen matches while he was in the room, and carried various\r\nportmanteaux out into the garden, where he slashed them open at the\r\nsides and overhauled their contents for money and valuables.\r\n\r\nEarly the next morning Mrs. van Warmelo was roused by old Anne\r\nMerriman, the only woman servant on the place, who came in from the\r\ngarden with articles of wearing apparel which she had picked up under\r\nthe trees, and which she held up to the astonished gaze of her\r\nmistress. On investigating further, they found the garden littered\r\nwith articles of clothing, valuable documents, and title-deeds, which\r\nthe thief had thrown aside as worthless, in his search for money.\r\n\r\nThe only things of value which he had taken with him were a set of\r\npearl ear-rings and brooch, and a beautiful lined \"kaross,\" or rug,\r\nmade of the skins of wild South African animals. Nothing was seen of\r\nhim again, but Mrs. van Warmelo immediately got a revolver and kept\r\nwatch for him, hoping, yet fearing, that he would return for more\r\nplunder.\r\n\r\nThis was a sad beginning, and old Anne added to their fears by\r\npredicting every imaginable calamity to the inhabitants of Harmony.\r\nShe was gifted with second-sight, so she said, and often saw a man in\r\ngrey about the place; his presence \"boded no good,\" and old Anne soon\r\nafter left the place, with many warnings to her mistress to follow her\r\nexample, before she could be overtaken by disaster.\r\n\r\nAll this had taken place long before the war broke out. Harmony had in\r\nthe meantime been vastly improved, the dense undergrowth having been\r\ncut away, and the row of enormous willow trees, with which the house\r\nwas overshadowed, having been removed, while large flower and\r\nvegetable gardens had been laid out, where once a jungle-like growth\r\nof shrubs and rank grass had abounded.\r\n\r\nMuch of the natural beauty still remained, however, and Harmony was a\r\nfavourite resort for many people in Pretoria. Young and old visited\r\nthe place, especially during the summer months when the garden was\r\nladen with its wealth of fruit and flowers; and of these friends of\r\nthe family many figure in these pages, while some do not appear at\r\nall, having had no part in the stirring events with which this book\r\ndeals.\r\n\r\nAmongst the most frequent visitors at Harmony were the Consul-General\r\nfor the Netherlands, Mr. Domela-Nieuwenhuis and his wife, and other\r\nmembers of the Diplomatic Corps with their families.\r\n\r\nThese friendships had been formed before the war, and it was only\r\nnatural that they should have been strengthened and deepened by the\r\ntrying circumstances of the years during which the country was\r\nconvulsed by such unspeakable tragedies.\r\n\r\nAlthough the position held by these men debarred them from taking any\r\npart whatsoever in the events of the war, their sympathies were\r\nundoubtedly with the people of South Africa. They suffered with and\r\nfor their friends, and they must frequently have been weighed down by\r\na sense of their powerlessness to alleviate the distress around them,\r\nwhich they were forced to witness; but they were, without exception,\r\nmen of high integrity, and observed with strict honour the obligations\r\nlaid upon them by their position of trust.\r\n\r\nNeedless to say, they were not aware of the conspiracies which were\r\ncarried on at Harmony; to this day they are ignorant of the dangers to\r\nwhich the van Warmelos were exposed and the hazardous nature of many\r\nof the enterprises in which mother and daughter were engaged, and I\r\nlook forward with delight to the privilege of presenting each of these\r\ngentlemen with a copy of this book, in which they will find so many\r\nrevelations of an unexpected and startling nature.\r\n\r\nIt is not my intention to go into the details of the first encounters\r\nwith the enemy, nor to describe the siege-comedy of Mafeking, where\r\nBaden-Powell, as principal actor, maintained a humorous correspondence\r\nwith the Boers; nor of Kimberley, where Cecil Rhodes said he felt as\r\nsafe as in Piccadilly; nor of Dundee, where the Boers were said to\r\nhave found a large number of brand-new side-saddles, originally\r\ndestined to be used by British officers on arrival at the capital,\r\nwhere they hoped to take the ladies of Pretoria riding, but ultimately\r\nconsigned to the flames by the indignant brothers and lovers of those\r\nvery ladies; nor of the fine linen, silver, cut-glass, and fingerbowls\r\nfound and destroyed by the Boers in the luxurious British camp at\r\nDundee. I shall not dwell upon the glorious victories of the first\r\nmonths, the capture of armoured trains, the blowing up of bridges, the\r\nbesieging of towns, the arrival in Pretoria of the first British\r\nprisoners and the long sojourn of British officers in captivity in the\r\nModel School--from where, incidentally, Winston Churchill escaped in\r\nan ingenious way--and the crushing news of the first Boer reverses at\r\nDundee and Elandslaagte.\r\n\r\nAre these historical events not fully recorded in other books, by\r\nother writers more competent than myself?\r\n\r\nA three-volume book would hardly contain the experiences Hansie had,\r\nfirst in the Volks Hospital in Pretoria and later in the State Girls'\r\nSchool, as volunteer nurse, but I shall pass over the events of the\r\nfirst eight months of war under Boer martial law and introduce my\r\nreader to that period in May 1900 shortly before the British took\r\npossession of the capital.\r\n\r\nThe two remaining brothers van Warmelo were at this time retreating\r\nwith the now completely demoralised Boer forces, before the terrific\r\nonslaughts made upon them by the enemy.\r\n\r\nBlow after blow was delivered by the English in quiet succession on\r\ntheir forced march from Bloemfontein to Pretoria, and it was on May\r\n25th that the roar of Boer cannon reached the capital for the first\r\ntime.\r\n\r\nLooking south-east from Harmony, Mrs. and Miss van Warmelo were able\r\nto watch the Boer commandos pouring into the town--_straggling_ would\r\nbe a better word, for there was no one in command, and the weary men\r\non their jaded horses passed in groups of twos and threes, and in\r\nsmall contingents of from fifty to a hundred.\r\n\r\nMrs. van Warmelo fully expected to see her sons among the number and\r\nmade preparations to welcome them, for under the roar of cannon the\r\nfatted turkey had been killed and roasted and a large plum-pudding\r\nmade.\r\n\r\nSuddenly two men on horseback turned out of the wayside and rode\r\nstraight up to the gate.\r\n\r\n\"Perhaps these men are bringing us news of our boys,\" Mrs. van Warmelo\r\nsaid to her daughter, who was watching them with anxiety at her heart.\r\n\r\nThe men dismounted at the gate and walked up to the two women, leading\r\ntheir horses slowly over the grass.\r\n\r\nNo one spoke until the men were a few yards off, when Hansie\r\nexclaimed, with unbounded joy and relief, \"Why, they _are_ our boys!\"\r\n\r\nWith unkempt hair and long beards, covered with dust, tattered and\r\nweary, no wonder mother and sister failed to recognise them at first!\r\n\r\nWhen the first greetings were over, the young men gave what news they\r\ncould--stupefying news of the advance of the enemy in overwhelming\r\nnumbers, and of the flight and confusion of what remained of the Boer\r\nforces.\r\n\r\n\"What are you going to do?\" their mother asked.\r\n\r\n\"Rest and feed our horses first of all, mother,\" Dietlof, the elder,\r\nreplied. \"They are worn out and unfit for use. And when we have\r\nequipped ourselves for whatever may be in store for us, we must join\r\nsome small commando and escape from the town. Little or no resistance\r\nis being offered by our men, and it is evident that Pretoria will not\r\nbe defended. All we can do is to escape before the English take\r\npossession.\"\r\n\r\nMrs. van Warmelo then told her sons of the retreat of the President\r\nfrom the capital, with the entire Government, by the eastern railway\r\nroute.\r\n\r\nThe greatest consternation had been caused by this flight at first,\r\nbut subsequent events went to prove that this was the wisest course\r\nwhich could have been pursued.\r\n\r\nIn this decision the President had been urged by his wife, and Mrs.\r\nvan Warmelo went on to tell how the brave old lady had said to her in\r\nan expressive way, on the occasion of her last visit at the\r\nPresident's house:\r\n\r\n\"My dear friend, do not fear. No Englishman will ever lay his hand on\r\nthe coat-tails of the President.\"\r\n\r\nIt is quite impossible to describe the confusion that ensued during\r\nthe next few days.\r\n\r\nNo one knew what to do; there were no organised Boer forces to join,\r\nthere was no one in command, and, after long deliberation, the two\r\nyoung men, urged by mother and sister, came to the conclusion that,\r\nwhatever other men might be doing, _their_ duty was to get out of\r\nPretoria and join whatever band of fighting burghers there might still\r\nbe in the field.\r\n\r\nThe same spirit of determination not to fall into the hands of the\r\nenemy while the Boer Government was free, and could continue\r\norganising the war, prevailed amongst most of the men in Pretoria, and\r\ndaily small parties could be seen leaving the town, in carts, on\r\nhorseback, on bicycles, and even on foot. Where they were going and\r\nwhen they would return no one knew.\r\n\r\nOn the morning of June 4th, the necessary preparations for the\r\ndeparture of the young men having been made, as they were sitting at\r\nwhat proved to be their last meal together for such long and terrible\r\nyears, they were suddenly startled by the sound of cannon-firing and\r\nthe whistling of a shell through the air.\r\n\r\nThey listened, speechless, as the shell burst on Schanskop Fort, on\r\nthe Sunnyside hill, just beyond Harmony, with an explosion that shook\r\nthe house.\r\n\r\nIt was followed by another and yet another.\r\n\r\nSo little were the inhabitants of Pretoria prepared for this that\r\neveryone at first thought that the shells were being fired, for some\r\nunaccountable reason, by the Boers, from the Pretoria Forts, until a\r\nfew of them burst so close to the houses that the fragments of rock\r\nand shell fell like hail on the iron roofs. The other members of the\r\nfamily followed Mrs. van Warmelo into the garden: and when it became\r\nevident that the enemy was bombarding the Pretoria Forts, the two\r\nyoung men immediately saddled their horses and rode out in the\r\ndirection in which they thought it most likely that some resistance\r\nwould be offered, after having advised their mother and sister to flee\r\nto some place of refuge in the centre of the town.\r\n\r\nThere was no doubt that Harmony was directly in the line of fire, and\r\nas the great shells went shrieking and hurtling through the air, the\r\nvery earth seemed to shake with the force of each explosion.\r\n\r\nMrs. van Warmelo hastily packed a few valuables into a hand-bag, and\r\nfled into town with her daughter, leaving their dinner standing almost\r\nuntouched on the table. On their way to town, they found many\r\nterrified women and children huddled under bridges for safety.\r\n\r\nThe bombardment continued all the afternoon, and ceased only when\r\ndarkness fell.\r\n\r\nThat night, when the van Warmelos returned to their deserted home,\r\nthey found the house still standing and no trace of the bombardment\r\nexcept pieces of shell lying in the garden.\r\n\r\nThey were much surprised a few hours later, by the return of their two\r\nwarriors, weary and desperate after a hopeless attempt to keep back\r\nthe English with a handful of burghers, and the news they brought was\r\nto the effect that Pretoria was to be surrendered to the enemy the\r\nnext morning. Once more they expressed their determination to escape\r\nto the Boer lines, wherever they might be.\r\n\r\nOnly a few hours' rest for them that night and then they rode away at\r\ndawn, in the Middelburg direction, on that dark and dreadful June 5th.\r\n\r\nIt was Fritz's twenty-second birthday on that cruel mid-winter's morn,\r\nand when Hansie saw him again he was a man of twenty-six, with the\r\nexperiences and suffering of a lifetime resting on his shoulders.\r\n\r\nThe fate of the two young men remained a mystery to their dear ones\r\nfor many months of agonising suspense, and they pass out of these\r\npages for a time while we turn our attention to the relation of events\r\nwithin the capital.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nCHAPTER II\r\n\r\nHOW THE MINES WERE SAVED\r\n\r\n\r\nBefore we begin relating the events with which this book is actually\r\nconcerned, and which took place, as we have said in the previous\r\nchapter, exclusively in and around the capital, I must ask my reader\r\nto turn his attention for a few moments to that great mining centre,\r\nJohannesburg, \"The Golden City\" of South Africa.\r\n\r\nIf it was hated by the Boers before the war as the cause of all the\r\nunrest in their beloved country, the unwelcome revolution in the calm\r\nsimplicity of their hitherto peaceful life, it is not to be wondered\r\nat that their hatred and resentment had been intensified by the way in\r\nwhich the war was brought about.\r\n\r\nThis feeling had risen to its height of concentrated fury when it\r\nbecame known to the burghers that the sweeping advance of the British\r\nforces in overwhelming numbers would soon make it possible for the\r\nEnglish to take full possession of those coveted mines.\r\n\r\nAt the time of the Republican successes there had been no suggestion\r\nthat it would be politic to destroy the mines, but as reverses became\r\nmore frequent, and it became evident beyond a doubt that the British\r\ntroops were about to cross the Vaal, a strong section of the\r\nGovernment, supported by popular feeling, openly advocated the\r\ndestruction of the mines as well as the town of Johannesburg. The\r\nprecedent quoted for such a course was the burning of Moscow by the\r\nRussians, in order to retard the victorious advance of Napoleon.\r\n\r\nVery soon it became apparent that the members of the Government who\r\nwere advocating this policy were gaining the upper hand, as\r\ninstructions were actually given to certain officials of the Mines\r\nDepartment to make the necessary arrangements for blowing up the\r\nmines. Another section of the Government, among whom were General\r\nLouis Botha and Dr. F.E.T. Krause, strenuously opposed the carrying\r\nout of this policy.\r\n\r\nThis section eventually gained the upper hand at the time when\r\nCommandant Schutte was compelled to relinquish the position of Special\r\nCommandant for the Rand, and Dr. Krause was appointed in his stead,\r\nalthough the circumstances leading to this change had at first in some\r\nmeasure strengthened those who advocated destroying the mines. The\r\nchange was brought about in consequence of the terrible explosion at\r\nBegbie's Engineering Works, which had been converted into a bomb\r\nfactory by the Government, and where several persons were killed and\r\nmany injured.\r\n\r\nThe cause of this explosion after investigation was alleged to have\r\nbeen the work of British spies, and it was only natural that those\r\npersons advocating the destruction of the mines should avail\r\nthemselves of this circumstance to further their scheme, but the bold\r\nand determined opposition of Dr. Krause, supported as he was by the\r\nmines police, a special body of men organised for the purpose of\r\nprotecting the mines, had the effect of inducing the \"Destroyers\" to\r\nmature their scheme in secret.\r\n\r\nThe probable fate of the mines was openly and freely discussed in the\r\ncapital, and I have a faint recollection of a debating society having\r\ntaken for its subject, at this time, the question, \"Would the result\r\nof blowing up the mines be beneficial or detrimental to the Boer\r\ncause?\" Many were the pros and cons, and what conclusion was arrived\r\nat I do not know.\r\n\r\nAt Harmony, mother and daughter followed the subject with the keenest\r\ninterest and anxiety, realising the important effect which the\r\ndestruction of the mines would have on the later development of the\r\nwar.\r\n\r\nThere were several weighty considerations which the \"Destroyers,\" in\r\ntheir thirst for revenge, seemed to have overlooked entirely.\r\n\r\nIn the first place, the blowing up of the mines would have failed in\r\nits object of punishing the mining magnates against whom the\r\nresentment of the Republicans was specially directed, and the chief\r\nsufferers would be innocent shareholders in every part of the world,\r\nmembers of the middle-classes who had invested their little all in the\r\nfabulously rich gold mines of the Rand. Another very important\r\nconsideration which was discussed by the more thoughtful section of\r\nthe community was the probable destruction of the farms by the British\r\nforces by way of retaliation for the fate of the mines. Could the\r\nburghers have foreseen that the entire country would be laid waste in\r\nany case as the war proceeded, nothing could have saved the mines. But\r\nthe devastation of Boer homesteads was not to begin until a much later\r\nperiod, and to this fact the \"Destroyers\" no doubt owed the\r\nfrustration of their schemes.\r\n\r\nI have to thank friends who were principally concerned in the matter\r\nfor the following account of how the mines were saved and for the\r\ninteresting description of the surrender of the Golden City, appearing\r\nin Chapter III.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nAt this time the British troops were advancing rapidly. The Boers were\r\npanic-stricken, and had it not been for the determined efforts of the\r\nadministration in Johannesburg, chaos would have resulted.\r\n\r\nAbout ten days before the surrender of the town, the scheme of the\r\n\"Destroyers\" was unwittingly disclosed through the foolishness of the\r\nman who had been apparently chosen to carry it out. Judge Kock, who\r\nwas a friend of Dr. Krause's, came over to Johannesburg for the\r\npurpose of making a last and determined effort to destroy the mines.\r\nBeing a great friend of the Krauses, he was invited to stay at their\r\nhouse. In a burst of confidence he produced a letter signed by a very\r\nhigh-placed official of the Executive Council, whereby he was\r\nempowered, in indefinite terms, to call for the co-operation of any\r\nmilitary official whom he pleased. He showed Dr. Krause this letter\r\nand requested him to instruct the mine police and certain other mine\r\nofficials to assist him. He was met with a blank refusal, and a threat\r\nthat if he persisted in this undertaking he would be arrested. Judge\r\nKock, or, as he then styled himself, \"General\" Kock, had gathered\r\ntogether a cosmopolitan force of about 100 men.\r\n\r\nAbout this time events were rapidly changing. The determined advance\r\nof the British forces and the panic-stricken retreat of the Boers had\r\nthe effect of encouraging \"General\" Kock and his men. Dr. Krause's\r\nhands were full in attending to the military necessities of the\r\nsituation. Urgent messages from Botha and the President were hourly\r\npassing over the wires. General French, who was advancing on\r\nJohannesburg from the east, had pressed forward to such an extent that\r\nthe Boers retreating from Vereeniging were practically hemmed in by\r\nthe British columns.\r\n\r\nCommandant Krause on the Sunday afternoon hastily gathered as many\r\nfighting men as he could muster, and with them occupied the hills\r\nsurrounding Van Wyk's Rust, in order to check the advance of French\r\nand give the Boers an opportunity of retreating safely. On the Monday,\r\nwhile fighting was going on, he was obliged to leave his men--who by\r\nthat time had been reinforced by the retreating Boers--for\r\nJohannesburg, on receiving an urgent message that chaos was reigning\r\nin town, and that the goods sheds at the station, where Government\r\nprovisions and food-stuffs were stored, were being looted. On his\r\nreturn order was speedily restored.\r\n\r\nTuesday, May 29th, was the eventful day in the history of the saving\r\nof the mines, as on this date Dr. Krause personally arrested \"General\"\r\nKock and dispersed his band of followers. It happened in this way.\r\n\r\nDuring the progress of the war the Government had been working some of\r\nthe mines, and, at the time of the rapid advance of the British from\r\nBloemfontein, instructions were given that all the gold should be\r\nconveyed to Pretoria. The week before the surrender of Johannesburg,\r\nDr. Krause had given the necessary instructions for doing this, and\r\nhad received a report that all gold had been transported. Now, it\r\nappears that Kock had taken advantage of the Commandant's absence from\r\nJohannesburg to further his scheme of destruction, and the first mine\r\nhe went to with that purpose in view was the Robinson. On arriving\r\nthere he accidentally discovered that about 120,000 ounces of gold,\r\nvalued at about £400,000, were still stored on the mine. He was\r\nevidently so perturbed about this that he momentarily forgot his\r\npurpose, and galloped post-haste with the greater number of his men to\r\nthe Commandant's office. His men were drawn up outside; he dismounted\r\nand found Dr. Krause in consultation with Commandant L.E. van\r\nDiggelen, the energetic officer in command of the Mines Police. Kock\r\nadopted a threatening and bullying attitude, and demanded the reason\r\nwhy so much gold had been left on the mine, and where the treachery\r\nlay. During the course of his angry outburst he disclosed the fact\r\nthat he had proceeded to the mine for the purpose of destroying it,\r\nand had discovered the presence of the gold. It may be mentioned here\r\nthat Dr. Krause, in the course of the morning, had been in telegraphic\r\ncommunication with General Botha, who was then in the vicinity of\r\nEagles' Nest, and had informed him that it would probably be necessary\r\nto take violent measures against Kock, which might lead to bloodshed.\r\nGeneral Botha's reply was: \"I hold you responsible for the safety of\r\nthe mines and the town of Johannesburg, and I leave everything in your\r\nhands.\"\r\n\r\nWhen, therefore, \"General\" Kock disclosed his purpose, Dr. Krause\r\njumped up, closed the door, confronted him, and, before he could\r\nrealise his position, had him under arrest, calling upon van Diggelen\r\nto disarm him. Kock made an attempt to escape, but he was powerless in\r\nthe hands of two determined men. Some time elapsed before he realised\r\nthe hopelessness of the situation, as his last attempt to induce\r\nCommandant van Diggelen to deliver a note to his men outside was met\r\nwith a blank refusal. The next thing to be done was to get rid of\r\nthese men, who evidently had been instructed by their \"General\" not to\r\nleave without him, he probably fearing that something unforeseen might\r\nhappen to him. How now to get rid of these men? The following ruse was\r\nadopted: Dr. Krause took up some telegrams, and, waving these in the\r\nair, rushed out to where they were stationed, demanding to know who\r\nthe officer in charge was. He was met by a confusion of voices calling\r\nout, \"Where is our General?\" \"Oh!\" was the reply, \"your General is\r\nstill in my office, consulting on military matters, and I have just\r\nreceived information that the British are advancing on the town from\r\nthe direction of the Gueldenhuis. Your General commands you to proceed\r\nin that direction to reinforce the Boers, who are trying to stop the\r\nadvance. We will follow immediately with the rest of the men. Now! who\r\nis in command?\" \"I am, sir--Captain McCullum.\" \"Now, Captain,\" the\r\nDoctor said, \"ride for your life and do your duty.\"\r\n\r\nThe ruse was successful, and in a few minutes not a single man of the\r\nband was in sight. The next question was, what was to be done with\r\nKock. The following plan was adopted: The arrest took place shortly\r\nbefore the luncheon hour, and as the offices were generally closed\r\nfrom one till two, Kock was detained in the Commandant's office until\r\none. All officials were then ordered to leave. Van Diggelen ordered\r\nhis dog-cart to be brought round, Kock was told to step in, and was\r\nquietly driven to the fort, where he was detained by the officer in\r\ncharge.\r\n\r\nDuring the afternoon General Botha and his staff passed through\r\nJohannesburg, and came to see Dr. Krause, who reported what had\r\nhappened. General Botha approved of and confirmed his action in every\r\nrespect. The conference between the two officers did not last long,\r\nand resulted in Dr. Krause being definitely instructed to remain in\r\nJohannesburg in order to protect the town and its inhabitants, and to\r\nsee that all fighting burghers immediately left for their respective\r\ncommandos. The same evening Kock was sent to Pretoria, escorted by\r\nseveral police, and handed over to the authorities there.\r\n\r\nThe great danger which had threatened the safety of the mines was in\r\nthis way averted.\r\n\r\nBefore closing this chapter, mention should be made of the excellent\r\nwork done by the Mines Police in the protection of the mines, and in\r\nthis connection especially to name Commandant L.E. van Diggelen and\r\nLt. W. Vogts, the energetic Secretary of the Force.\r\n\r\nThe gold found on the Robinson Mine was on the same Tuesday sent by\r\nDr. Krause to Pretoria in charge of Captain Arendt Burkhardt and\r\nseveral members of the Field Police, and was duly delivered by them to\r\nthe authorities there.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\n_Note._--The subsequent career of Kock was an eventful one. He lost\r\nhis father, J.H. Kock, at the battle of Elandslaagte. This and other\r\nmatters so preyed upon his mind that eventually he became subject to\r\ndelusions, and is at present confined in the lunatic asylum at\r\nPretoria.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nCHAPTER III\r\n\r\nTHE SURRENDER OF THE GOLDEN CITY\r\n\r\n\r\nIn attempting to chronicle the events which surround the surrender of\r\nJohannesburg, the mind involuntarily pauses, and a picture, which\r\nreminds one of the fairy-tales of one's childhood, is called up in\r\nimagination.\r\n\r\nIn 1886 Johannesburg could only boast of a few tin shanties--the\r\nbeginnings of a mining camp; fourteen years later the British troops\r\nmarched through the streets of a modern city. And what has been the\r\nhistory of these fourteen years?\r\n\r\nIn the history of the older European nations development and progress\r\nare slow, and social and economic cause and effect can be traced with\r\nalmost scientific accuracy. In Johannesburg, however, ordinary human\r\nagencies do not seem to have been at work. The man who has the leisure\r\nat his disposal to ascertain the true facts of that period before the\r\nwar, would present to the world a history so interesting and\r\nfascinating that he would be accused of having indulged in fiction in\r\nhis narrative of events. It would be out of place in this book,\r\nhowever, to enter into these historical events, and we must confine\r\nourselves to the details of the period with which this story deals.\r\n\r\nEver since the beginning of the war it was the intention of the\r\nRepublican Government to defend both Pretoria and Johannesburg, and\r\nhad the outbreak of the war not been precipitated, and the necessary\r\ncannon ordered from France arrived in time, this would have been done.\r\nEven after the fall of Bloemfontein the idea was not entirely\r\nabandoned, and Commandant Krause was instructed to provision the\r\nJohannesburg Fort and make other necessary preparations. A promise was\r\nmade that several cannon would be left at Johannesburg by the Boers\r\nduring their retreat. It was hoped that such defence would retard the\r\nBritish advance and enable the Boers to recover from the panic which\r\nhad seized them ever since the surrender of Cronjé at Paardeberg.\r\n\r\nWhen, however, General Botha on Tuesday, May 29th, 1900, passed\r\nthrough Johannesburg, Commandant Krause was ordered to abandon the\r\ndefence of the town, to distribute all provisions collected amongst\r\nthe families of the men on commando, and to get rid of all men capable\r\nof fighting. These orders were promptly carried out.\r\n\r\nOn the following day, Wednesday, May 30th, between ten and eleven in\r\nthe morning, Major Francis Davis appeared with a flag of truce and\r\nrequested to see Dr. Krause.\r\n\r\nAt the time the Commandant was at the fort attending to General\r\nGrobelaar and about 500 men who were retreating in the direction of\r\nPretoria. During the day bodies of armed burghers were continually\r\npassing through the town.\r\n\r\nOn arrival at his office Dr. Krause found Major Davis in the company\r\nof two old Johannesburg residents. The latter were dressed in mufti.\r\nBoth these men had taken an active part in the agitation which\r\npreceded the war.\r\n\r\nMajor Davis in soldierly manner addressed Dr. Krause by saying that he\r\nwas commanded by Lord Roberts to demand the immediate and\r\nunconditional surrender of the town, in the name of Her Majesty Queen\r\nVictoria.\r\n\r\nDr. Krause's reply was very short: \"No, sir, not immediately and not\r\nunconditionally.\"\r\n\r\nMajor Davis thereupon said that Lord Roberts had also expressed a\r\ndesire that the Commandant should grant him an interview, at which the\r\nmatter could be discussed. Dr. Krause assented to this proposition.\r\n\r\nWhat the Boers wanted was delay--and if Commandant Krause could delay\r\nthe forward advance of the British troops a great advantage would be\r\ngained.\r\n\r\nLord Roberts was encamped just above the Victoria Lake, close to\r\nGermiston. On arrival at the camp Dr. Krause was met by Lord Roberts\r\non the verandah of the house occupied by him and his staff.\r\n\r\nA private interview then took place between the two officers, at which\r\nthe terms of surrender of Johannesburg were agreed upon, and which\r\nwill be found in the letter set out hereunder.\r\n\r\nThe chief reason for an armistice advanced by the Boer Commandant was\r\nthat if the British were at once to enter the town, street-fighting\r\nwould undoubtedly take place, as the many armed burghers passing\r\nthrough the town would only obey the orders of their own respective\r\nCommandants and Field-cornets. Such street-fighting would be a serious\r\nmenace to the women and children and to the other peaceful citizens of\r\nthe town. Lord Roberts agreed to this, adding that he had once, in\r\nAfghanistan, experienced street-fighting and would not like to see it\r\nagain.\r\n\r\nAnother incident of this interview is worth recording, viz. the\r\nprotest made by Dr. Krause at the presence of the two civilians who\r\naccompanied Major Davis. Lord Roberts asked for the reason of this\r\nprotest, and was informed that, according to the view of the people in\r\nJohannesburg, these men, through the part they played in the\r\nmendacious political agitation which was carried on prior to the war,\r\nwere partly responsible for the war, and further that he (Dr. Krause)\r\nhad in his possession a warrant for the arrest of one of these men for\r\nhigh treason, issued prior to the commencement of hostilities, and\r\nconsequently their presence in the town was looked upon with a great\r\ndeal of disfavour and resentment.\r\n\r\nLord Roberts expressed his regret, and said that these men had\r\naccompanied his officer only because he was told that they would be\r\nexcellent guides, knowing the locality and the officials.\r\n\r\nThe terms of surrender were agreed to, including an armistice of\r\ntwenty-four hours. This delay undoubtedly helped to save the\r\nRepublican forces from utter destruction and certainly enabled General\r\nBotha and the other Boer officers to retreat with their men beyond\r\nPretoria and to collect their scattered forces.\r\n\r\nDr. Krause returned to Johannesburg after this interview and\r\nimmediately set about making the necessary arrangements to carry out\r\nhis part of the bargain. A Proclamation was issued, calling upon all\r\narmed burghers and other capable men to leave the town; all officials\r\nwere ordered to be in readiness the next day at the respective\r\noffices, for the purpose of handing over their administration to their\r\nsuccessors.\r\n\r\nEarly the next morning Mr. William Shawe, the Deputy Sheriff, was\r\ndispatched to Lord Roberts, with a formal letter, confirming the terms\r\nof surrender agreed to at the above interview. This historical\r\ndocument is, I believe, here printed for the first time and reads as\r\nfollows:\r\n\r\n\r\n \"JOHANNESBURG,\r\n \"_May 30th, 1900._\r\n \"Lord Roberts,\r\n \"Commander-in-Chief of Her\r\n \"Majesty's troops in South Africa.\r\n\r\n \"YOUR LORDSHIP,\r\n\r\n \"Referring to the verbal interview I had with Your Lordship this\r\n morning, with reference to the surrender of the town,\r\n Johannesburg, I now wish to confirm the following in writing:\r\n\r\n \"(a) That all officials and other Government employees will be\r\n treated with the necessary respect and consideration. On their\r\n behalf I can give Your Lordship the assurance, that until the\r\n surrender is complete, everything will be done by them to\r\n facilitate Your Lordship's work, in so far as their honour\r\n allows.\r\n\r\n \"(b) With reference to the protection of women and children\r\n (including the women and children of Burghers on\r\n Commando),--that these persons will not be molested by the\r\n troops,--Your Lordship having already given the necessary\r\n instructions in this connection.\r\n\r\n \"(c) That property will be protected, also forage, except in so\r\n far as military requirements necessitate it.\r\n\r\n \"(d) That as regards the 13,000 Kaffirs still on the mines, the\r\n necessary precautions will be taken by Your Lordship:--in this\r\n respect the Special Mine Police corps, till now under my\r\n command, will render Your Lordship all assistance.\r\n\r\n \"(e) Enclosed I send Your Lordship a copy of a notice\r\n distributed by me, which speaks for itself, and from which Your\r\n Lordship will learn that all fighting and armed burghers have\r\n been ordered to leave the town at once.\r\n\r\n \"(f) It grieves me to have to inform Your Lordship, that\r\n notwithstanding our arrangement, that no armed men would enter\r\n the town till to-morrow at 10 o'clock, several armed persons\r\n entered the town (evidently without Your Lordship's knowledge,\r\n and contrary to instructions), and several of whom are under\r\n arrest; one who attempted to disarm a burgher was wounded, and\r\n is at present in the hospital here.\r\n\r\n \"Finally, I must request Your Lordship not to enter the town\r\n with too great a force (for reasons already communicated to Your\r\n Lordship). I shall send some one who will conduct Your Lordship\r\n personally (or the officer in command) to the Government offices\r\n to there carry out and complete the necessary formalities of\r\n handing over the town. All chief and other officials have been\r\n notified by me of this arrangement, and they have been ordered\r\n to hold themselves in readiness to hand over their offices to\r\n the persons appointed thereto.\r\n\r\n \"I have the honour to be,\r\n \"Respectfully yours,\r\n \"(Signed) F.E.T. KRAUSE.\r\n \"Acting Special Commandant.\"\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nOn the morning of May 31st, 1900, the sun rose in his bright winter\r\nsplendour--the sky was blue, and not a cloud appeared upon the\r\nhorizon. Mother Nature seemed to emphasise the darkness and bitterness\r\nin the hearts of the staunch and free Republicans by her dazzling\r\nbrightness. The new era had dawned, heralding the victory of the\r\ninvading forces and giving practical proof of the old adage, \"Might is\r\nright.\"\r\n\r\nAt about 10 o'clock Commandant Krause received a message from Lord\r\nRoberts announcing his presence on the outskirts of the town (at\r\nDenver) and expressing a desire that the Commandant should personally\r\ncome and meet and conduct him to the Government offices, there to hand\r\nover the \"keys\" of the city. This request was complied with. The\r\nBritish were then seen entering the town, headed by Lord Roberts, Lord\r\nKitchener, and Commandant Krause. On arrival at the Government offices\r\nthe different officials were presented to Lord Roberts, who requested\r\nthem to remain in office until they were relieved of their duties by\r\nan English officer.\r\n\r\nThe surrender of the Golden City was an accomplished fact!\r\n\r\n [Illustration: THE SURRENDER OF THE GOLDEN CITY]\r\n\r\nIn conclusion, and as a contrast to this terrible period for the\r\nRepublicans, I may here be permitted to publish a letter written by\r\nLord Roberts to Dr. Krause, which will show in what manner the Golden\r\nCity was previously administrated and afterwards handed over to the\r\nBritish troops on May 31st, 1900.\r\n\r\n\r\n \"ARMY HEAD-QUARTERS,\r\n \"JOHANNESBURG,\r\n \"_June 2nd, 1900._\r\n\r\n \"DEAR DR. KRAUSE,\r\n\r\n \"I desire to express to you how fully I appreciate the valuable\r\n assistance you have afforded me in connection with the entry\r\n into this town of the force under my command.\r\n\r\n \"I recognise that you have had DIFFICULTIES OF NO ORDINARY\r\n NATURE TO CONTEND WITH OF LATE, and any weakness in the\r\n administration of the town and suburbs at such a juncture would\r\n doubtless have been taken full advantage of by the disorderly\r\n element which necessarily exists in an important mining\r\n community. THANKS TO YOUR ENERGY AND VIGILANCE, ORDER AND\r\n TRANQUILLITY HAVE BEEN PRESERVED, and I congratulate you\r\n heartily on the result of your labours.\r\n\r\n \"Permit me also to tender to you my personal thanks for the\r\n great courtesy you have shown me since I first had the pleasure\r\n of meeting you.\r\n\r\n \"Believe me to be,\r\n \"Yours truly,\r\n \"ROBERTS, F.M.\"\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nCHAPTER IV\r\n\r\nMARTIAL LAW UNDER THE ENEMY\r\n\r\n\r\nAfter her brothers' departure, described in Chapter I, Hansie fastened\r\nher \"Vierkleur,\" a broad band of the Transvaal colours, round her hat,\r\nand announced her intention of going into town to see the British\r\ntroops come in.\r\n\r\nHer mother thought it a most unseemly proceeding, and declined to\r\naccompany her wilful daughter, but the latter did not wish to miss\r\nwhat she knew would become an historical event of great importance,\r\nand rode away on her bicycle, accompanied by her faithful retriever,\r\nCarlo.\r\n\r\nThe thought of the conspicuous band of ribbon round her hat, in green,\r\nred, white, and blue, gave her a certain feeling of comfort and\r\nsatisfaction.\r\n\r\nAt least none of the friends she might chance to meet that day could\r\nsuspect her of being in town to _welcome_ the enemy.\r\n\r\nThe air was charged with the electricity of an excitement so tense, so\r\nsuppressed, that it struck her like some living force as she rode\r\nthrough the thronged, though silent streets.\r\n\r\nIn the heart of the town, as she neared Government Square, a change\r\nwas noticeable--a change that she could not define until it was borne\r\nin upon her that it originated in the attitude of the black and\r\ncoloured part of the community.\r\n\r\nThey had come out in their thousands--the streets literally seethed\r\nwith them, the remarkable part of this being that they were all on the\r\npavements, while their \"white brothers\" walked in the middle of the\r\nroad.\r\n\r\nFor the sake of the uninitiated I must explain that under the Boer\r\nregime no black or coloured person was allowed on the pavements, nor\r\nto be out at night, nor to walk about without a registered pass. There\r\nwas no \"black peril\" then.\r\n\r\nThis noisy, unlawful demonstration was an expression of joy on their\r\npart at the prospect of that day being set free from Boer\r\nrestrictions, a short-lived joy, however, for they became so lawless\r\nand overbearing that it was found necessary, within a very few days,\r\nto re-enforce the Boer laws and regulations.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nIn perfect order, but weary unto death, the British troops marched in.\r\nThousands and thousands of soldiers in khaki, travel-stained,\r\nfootsore, and famished, sank to the ground, at a given command, in the\r\nopen square facing Government Buildings.\r\n\r\nSome of them tried to eat of the rations they had with them, others,\r\ntoo exhausted to eat, fell into a deep sleep almost at once, and one\r\nold warrior, looking up into the face of the girl standing above him,\r\nsaid, in a broken voice, \"Thank God, the war is over.\"\r\n\r\nHansie bent towards him and answered, in a voice vibrating with\r\npassionate feeling, \"Tommy Atkins, _the war has just begun_.\"\r\n\r\nHe looked at her in puzzled surprise, and sighing heavily, closed his\r\neyes.\r\n\r\nAh, unknown soldier, did you in after years, I wonder, remember the\r\nprophetic words spoken by the lips of a girl that day?\r\n\r\nAt three o'clock that afternoon the Union Jack was hoisted on\r\nGovernment Buildings!\r\n\r\nThose of my readers whose love of home, kindred, traditions,\r\nideals--patriotism--belong to other countries can draw a mental\r\npicture of what a similar experience would mean to them. One day to be\r\nfull of hope that a beloved country and independence would be restored\r\nto its people, the next with those hopes laid low in the dust,\r\nshattered, destroyed for ever, by the sight of a small, unfamiliar\r\nflag standing out against the blue sky.\r\n\r\nIn time of great shock or crisis, merciful Providence numbs our\r\nkeenest sensibilities and the brain acts and thinks mechanically. The\r\ninevitable comes, however, and we wonder at finding ourselves still\r\nbreathing, after passing through that fire of mental agony.\r\n\r\nOur young patriot's heart was torn and bleeding, but her sufferings\r\nthen were as nothing compared to those she endured in later months and\r\nyears, when the incidents of that winter's day would pass in review\r\nacross her brain, haunting her sleeping and waking thoughts like some\r\nhideous nightmare.\r\n\r\nIt is not for me to describe the scene: the cheering of the multitude,\r\nthe parade of haggard troops--the soul-sickening display of imperial\r\npatriotism.\r\n\r\nAs if ashamed of having witnessed it, the sun, suddenly grown old and\r\ngrey, hid himself behind a passing cloud, and in the shadows which\r\nenveloped her the girl seemed to feel the hand of Nature, groping for\r\nhers, to convey its silent message of sympathy.\r\n\r\nThe crowds dispersed and the troops withdrew to the outskirts of the\r\ntown to pitch their tents for the night.\r\n\r\nWhen Hansie arrived at Harmony she found all the open space around it\r\noccupied by troops, and camps erected at the very gates, while, all\r\nalong the roads and railway lines, fires were burning and soldiers\r\nwere engaged in tending their horses and preparing their rations.\r\n\r\nThe air was so heavy with smoke and dust that it seemed as if a dense\r\nfog were resting on the town, but an order and discipline prevailed\r\nwhich could not be surpassed.\r\n\r\nMrs. van Warmelo was standing at the gate with a loaded revolver in\r\nher hands, keeping the entire British army at bay with a pair of\r\nblazing eyes.\r\n\r\nShe had already spoken to the officer in command, who, on hearing that\r\ntwo unprotected ladies were living alone on the property, had\r\nimmediately issued orders that no man was to enter Harmony on any\r\npretext whatever. Somewhat reassured, mother and daughter retired into\r\ntheir stronghold, barricading doors and windows and ordering Carlo,\r\nthe good watch-dog, to preserve an extra vigilance that night.\r\n\r\nBrave old Carlo! from that moment he seemed to understand that his\r\nduty was to protect his beloved mistresses from their mortal foe, and\r\nnothing could equal his dislike and distrust of anything connected\r\nwith the unwelcome visitors around his hitherto peaceful abode. For a\r\nlong time, he valiantly withstood temptation in the form of titbits\r\noffered him by soldiers, not at any time responding to the many\r\nadvances made by them, and my reader will agree with me, as this story\r\nunfolds itself, that no dog could have developed more useful\r\nqualities.\r\n\r\nThe first few weeks after the occupation of Pretoria were spent in\r\nsettling down and finding accommodation for the thousands of British\r\nofficers and men, and it soon became evident to the inhabitants of\r\nHarmony that Sunnyside had been chosen as a suitable suburb for the\r\nmore important members of the military forces.\r\n\r\nTo give the reader some idea of how Harmony was hemmed in by troops on\r\nevery side, I have drawn the annexed chart, and, though some\r\nalterations were made as the months went by, this was practically the\r\nposition of our heroines during the greater part of the war.\r\n\r\nOn the eastern side were encamped the Military Mounted Police; on the\r\nwest, on the banks of the Aapies River and adjoining the Berea Park,\r\nlay Kitchener's bodyguard; on the south were established the\r\nMontmorency Scouts; and on the north, commanding the principal\r\nentrance to Harmony, the Provost-Marshal, Major Poore, had taken up\r\nhis abode in the comfortable residence of the ex-Mayor of Pretoria,\r\nSir Johannes van Boeschoten, who was knighted on the occasion of the\r\nrecent visit to South Africa of the Duke of Connaught.\r\n\r\nOpposite the Provost-Marshal, in a house belonging to Mr. B.T. Bourke,\r\nthe War Office, as we called it, was established; and still a little\r\nfarther north, in the British Agency, vacated by Sir Conyngham and\r\nLady Lily Greene when martial law was proclaimed, Lord Roberts and\r\nhis staff were installed, until better quarters could be found for\r\nthem. The Military Governor, General Sir John Maxwell, then took\r\npossession of the British Agency and remained there, as far as I know,\r\nuntil the end of the war.\r\n\r\n [Illustration: (map of Harmony and neighbourhood.)]\r\n\r\nDuring the first half-year after the British entry into Pretoria\r\nHarmony's front gate was blocked by the tent of the military post\r\noffice, the ropes of which had been fastened to the posts of the gate.\r\nAlthough the inhabitants of Harmony found it inconvenient to squeeze\r\nthrough the small opening at the side of the gate, Mrs. van Warmelo\r\nmade no objection to the arrangement, because it safeguarded the\r\nproperty to some extent from possible intruders.\r\n\r\nOther houses in the immediate neighbourhood of Harmony were occupied\r\nat different times by Lord Kitchener of Khartoum, the Duke of\r\nWestminster, and many other distinguished personages, with their\r\nstaffs. From this it will readily be understood that in the whole of\r\nPretoria no spot could have been more completely hemmed in by the\r\nvigilant military than Harmony.\r\n\r\nHow this vigilance was evaded by two Boer women, and how Harmony\r\nbecame the centre of Boer espionage as time went on, will be the theme\r\nof this story; but I wish my reader clearly to understand that from\r\nbeginning to end there was no treachery, no broken promises of peace\r\nand good behaviour.\r\n\r\nIt was simply taken for granted that the two women in question were\r\nhopelessly cut off from all communication with their friends in the\r\nfield, and utterly helpless and incapable of assisting their\r\nfellow-countrymen.\r\n\r\nThere were no conditions attached to the privilege of remaining\r\nundisturbed in their home, and, though it was well known that their\r\nmenfolk were among the fighting burghers and that they themselves\r\nentertained the strongest feelings of antagonism towards the British,\r\nthey were quietly left in peace.\r\n\r\nWhether the fact that Mrs. van Warmelo's elder daughter was married to\r\nMr. Henry Cloete, of Alphen, Wynberg, had anything to do with this\r\nunexpected and altogether undeserved leniency, I do not know. It\r\ncertainly could not be put down to the credit of our heroines that Mr.\r\nCloete had at one time been Acting British Agent at Pretoria, nor that\r\nhe had shown the British Government such services as earned for him\r\nthe distinction of having the Order of Companion of St. Michael and\r\nSt. George conferred upon him.\r\n\r\nAll I can say is that if the van Warmelos owed their security to these\r\nfacts, we can only look upon that as one of the fortunate\r\ncircumstances of war over which we had no control. Other Boer\r\nresidents in Pretoria fared less fortunately.\r\n\r\nA great many \"undesirable\" families were put over the border at once;\r\nand of the remaining burghers, some took the oath of allegiance for\r\npurposes of their own, on which I am not in a position to pass\r\njudgment, others, the greater majority, took the oath of neutrality,\r\nand a few, in some mysterious way or other, avoided both these oaths,\r\nand remained in the capital, without pass, without permit, until time\r\nand occasion presented themselves for a sudden and unaccountable\r\ndisappearance. In another chapter I shall endeavour to describe the\r\ndangers and difficulties under which one of these men escaped from\r\nBritish martial law to the free life of the Boer commandos.\r\n\r\nAlthough houses were \"commandeered\" right and left, and officers\r\nquartered on private families, as is the custom in every\r\nwell-conducted war, Harmony was left in peace, only one mild attempt\r\nbeing made a few days after the occupation of Pretoria, by the officer\r\nin command of the Montmorency Scouts, to obtain entrance for himself\r\nand fellow officers at Harmony's inhospitable door.\r\n\r\n\"Only three officers,\" he said--\"no men; and we shall give no\r\ntrouble.\"\r\n\r\nIt was Hansie's duty to refuse, and refuse she did, firmly, patiently,\r\nwithout betraying her inmost fear that he could, and probably\r\nwould--like the American darkie preacher, who announced to his flock\r\nthat a certain meeting would take place \"on Friday next, de Lord\r\nwillin', an' if not, den on Sat'dy, whedder or no\"--take possession of\r\nher home, \"whedder or no\" she gave her consent.\r\n\r\nIt is still a source of surprise that he did not, that, instead, he\r\ndescended to argument, to beseechings.\r\n\r\n\"Our tents are bitterly cold at night,\" he said at last. \"Let us at\r\nleast sleep in the house.\"\r\n\r\n\"My brothers in the field have no tents,\" Hansie answered, \"they sleep\r\nunder the open sky. Do you think that we are going to allow British\r\nofficers to sleep in their beds? Allow me to tell you that we are\r\nred-hot Republicans.\"\r\n\r\nHe departed, and, though Mrs. van Warmelo and Hansie lived in some\r\ntrepidation for the next few days, no second attempt was made to\r\ncommandeer Harmony.\r\n\r\nThe incident of the large number of side-saddles found in the British\r\ncamp at Dundee had given Hansie food for much thought, and had caused\r\nher to plan her own future line of action long before the British\r\nofficers entered Pretoria.\r\n\r\n\"They will want to enjoy themselves with our girls,\" she told her\r\nmother.\r\n\r\n\"They will be found at tennis-parties, at social evenings, and at\r\nconcerts. They will want us to go out riding and driving with them,\r\nbut, mother, I vow I shall never be seen with a khaki officer as long\r\nas our men are in the field.\" And, as far as she was able, she kept\r\nher word until the war was over.\r\n\r\nThis was not always easy, for many temptations were brought in her\r\nway, and she soon found it necessary to give up riding and tennis\r\naltogether in order to keep to her resolution.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nCHAPTER V\r\n\r\nONLY A BIT OF RIBBON GAY!\r\n\r\n\r\nThe conspicuously bright hues of the \"Vierkleur\" round Hansie's hat\r\nattracted the attention of the new-comers in Pretoria, and she was\r\noften asked what they represented. In course of time other girls\r\ndonned their colours, flaunting them in the face of the enemy on every\r\npossible occasion.\r\n\r\nNow perhaps this was indiscreet, but, after all, what harm could it\r\ndo?\r\n\r\nIt was a certain comfort to them, and there could be no objection to\r\ntheir taking a public stand for their own, under British martial law.\r\nAt least, _we_ thought so. Not so the enemy!\r\n\r\nAbout three weeks after the British entry into the capital, the van\r\nWarmelos were told that orders had been issued that no Transvaal\r\nburgher in Pretoria would in future be permitted to wear the\r\n\"Vierkleur.\"\r\n\r\n\"Impossible! I do not believe it,\" Hansie exclaimed.\r\n\r\n\"What are you going to do?\" her mother inquired.\r\n\r\n\"Go out as usual with my 'Vierkleur' on, and see what happens,\" she\r\nsaid.\r\n\r\nShe went out and nothing happened, so she went out again next day, and\r\nthe next.\r\n\r\nIn the meantime she heard that dozens of women and girls had been\r\nstopped in the streets and marched off to the various Charge Offices,\r\nwhere their colours were forcibly removed and detained as contraband\r\narticles of war.\r\n\r\nHer mother warned her not to run the risk of losing her precious\r\nribbon, and advised her to put it away, but Hansie was determined to\r\nwear it until _compelled_ to submit. For a few days she rode about as\r\nusual, accompanied by Carlo, without being molested in any way, and\r\nshe was just beginning to feel reassured, when, one day, a petty\r\nofficer rode up to her in the street and ordered her to take off her\r\nTransvaal colours. She was on her way to Consul Cinatti's house, and\r\nwas walking, for the Portuguese Consulate was quite close to Harmony.\r\n\r\nWith the horse prancing before her, she could not very well proceed on\r\nher way. She stopped and looked up at the soldier. She did not like\r\nhis face at all, and changed her mind about what she meant to say to\r\nhim.\r\n\r\n\"Why don't you do as I tell you? Take off that ribbon at once,\" he\r\ncommanded.\r\n\r\n\"Why don't you go and conquer the Transvaal?\" she asked.\r\n\r\n\"I have my orders,\" he said, with a black look, \"and if you don't\r\nremove those colours from your hat immediately, I shall send some one\r\nto take them off by force.\"\r\n\r\n\"Take the Transvaal first,\" she said persuasively, \"then you will be\r\nquite welcome to my bit of ribbon.\"\r\n\r\nHe wheeled round suddenly and tore off to the Sunnyside Charge Office,\r\nlashing his poor horse savagely and looking round at her with a\r\nwatchful eye every few yards.\r\n\r\nHansie walked faster, and had nearly reached the side gate of the\r\nConsulate, when she saw him returning with two other mounted soldiers.\r\n\r\nShe dived through the gate, and running through the garden,\r\nunceremoniously entered the house at a side door.\r\n\r\n\"Oh, Celeste!\" she said to the astonished Miss Cinatti, \"there are\r\nthree men after me!\"\r\n\r\n\"Three men after you! What do you mean?\"\r\n\r\n\"They want my precious 'Vierkleur.' What shall I do?\"\r\n\r\n\"Take it off!\"\r\n\r\n\"Never!\"\r\n\r\nHere they were joined by Mr. Cinatti, who waved his arms and stamped\r\nhis feet when he heard the story, and got so excited and indignant\r\nthat he spluttered even more than usual in his broken English.\r\n\r\n\"What meant it all? What impudent impertinence was dis? It was nothing\r\nbut one big mean trick, a prying trap,\" etc., etc.\r\n\r\nWhen the storm was over (and his storms were usually of brief\r\nduration) he asked Hansie, with a gesture of comical despair:\r\n\r\n\"What are we going to do now?\"\r\n\r\n\"I don't know.\"\r\n\r\n\"Will you take off dat ribbon?\"\r\n\r\n\"I will not.\"\r\n\r\nHugely delighted, he clasped his hands in well-assumed agony of mind.\r\n\r\n\"Stay here and go home in de dark?\"\r\n\r\n\"No,\" Hansie laughed.\r\n\r\n\"I'll tell you. Celeste will give you anudder ribbon to put over dat\r\none.\"\r\n\r\n\"Thank you very much,\" Hansie said. \"Yes, that is a good idea.\"\r\n\r\nMiss Cinatti fastened a broad white ribbon over the \"Vierkleur,\" and\r\nHansie bade her an affectionate farewell. The Consul escorted her to\r\nthe gate, where they found one of the mounted soldiers guarding the\r\nentrance, while the second had been stationed at the side gate into\r\nwhich Hansie had been seen to disappear. The man who had addressed her\r\nfirst was nowhere to be seen. Mr. Cinatti glared at the soldier, who\r\nbacked away from the entrance, and allowed the girl to pass. He did\r\nnot look triumphant--on the contrary he saluted respectfully; but the\r\nother Tommy at the side gate laughed when he saw the white ribbon on\r\nher hat, and I am afraid that Hansie felt very much inclined to say,\r\n\"I've got my 'Vierkleur' on still!\" But she wisely refrained, walking\r\non stiffly without so much as a glance at the man. That night she\r\nslowly and sadly took off her 'bit of ribbon gay,' replacing it by a\r\nblack band in token of mourning and bereavement.\r\n\r\nThere was too much at stake, and she felt it would be better to keep\r\nthe ribbon in safety at home than to run the risk of being deprived of\r\nit by force.\r\n\r\nA sympathetic friend afterwards painted two crossed flags, the flags\r\nof the Transvaal and the Free State, on her band of black, and this\r\nshe wore unmolested until the end of the war.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nCHAPTER VI\r\n\r\nPASSES AND PERMITS\r\n\r\n\r\nAt this time the procuring of passes and permits became the order of\r\nthe day, and it is inconceivable the amount of red-tape that had to be\r\ngone through in the process.\r\n\r\nFor women living alone and having no menfolk to send to the offices,\r\nthis was especially annoying.\r\n\r\nHours were spent in waiting, and applicants were frequently sent from\r\none official to another, and from one department to another, on\r\nunimportant matters.\r\n\r\nThis brought Hansie into touch with the very men whose society she had\r\nresolved to avoid.\r\n\r\nIt took her three or four hours to get a permit for her bicycle and as\r\nmany days to get permission to retain her Colt's pocket-pistol, for\r\nthe officers in charge of the rifle department refused to let her keep\r\nit and she eventually decided to go straight to head-quarters, viz.\r\nthe Military Governor, General Maxwell.\r\n\r\nOrders had very rightly been issued that all firearms should be\r\ndelivered to the military authorities, but in this case Mrs. van\r\nWarmelo thought an exception should be made, because two unprotected\r\nwomen, living in an isolated homestead, could hardly be considered\r\nsafe in times of such great danger unless sufficiently armed and able\r\nto defend themselves.\r\n\r\nOther matters, of minor importance, could be overlooked, but it was to\r\nthis question of retaining weapons that she and her daughter owed\r\ntheir acquaintance with the charming and affable Military Governor.\r\n\r\nThe two women were received with great courtesy, and when they had\r\nexplained that they had a Mauser rifle in their possession, a\r\nrevolver, and a pistol, begging to be allowed to keep them for\r\nself-defence, General Maxwell instantly granted them permits for the\r\nrevolver and pistol, but asked them to give up their rifle. He gave\r\nthem a written promise, signed by himself, that the rifle would be\r\nreturned to them after the war--which promise, I may add, was\r\nfaithfully kept. General Maxwell asked many questions about their\r\nfighting relatives, and, when they were departing, said he hoped they\r\nwould come straight to him if at any time they got into trouble.\r\n\r\nThis kindness opened the way to many subsequent visits, and brought\r\nabout a friendly understanding between the officials in the Governor's\r\nDepartment and Mrs. and Miss van Warmelo.\r\n\r\nThe latter, upon whom naturally devolved the task of procuring the\r\nnecessary passes and permits, was always well received, and never kept\r\nwaiting, although she made no secret of her feelings towards the\r\nBritish, and frankly gave vent to her opinions on every subject\r\nconnected with the war. This state of affairs was brought about all\r\nthe more easily by the fact that General Maxwell and his A.D.C., Major\r\nHoskins, invited her opinions on every possible occasion.\r\n\r\nMutual respect, and a sincere desire to alleviate the suffering caused\r\nby the war, formed the basis of the somewhat incongruous friendship\r\nbetween the high British official and the Republican girl, especially\r\nas time went on and the appalling problem of the concentration camps\r\npresented itself. Then it was that General Maxwell, pacing up and down\r\nin his office, his brow drawn with care, and every movement betraying\r\nhis distress, frankly discussed the situation with Hansie and invited\r\nher confidence. As she had no secrets of importance at this time,\r\nthese interviews were marked by a spirit of mutual understanding, and\r\nshe learnt more and more to admire and respect the Governor for his\r\nhumanity and nobility of character; but the time was soon to come when\r\nthe demands of her land and people called her to more dangerous fields\r\nof labour, and then it became difficult, well-nigh impossible, to meet\r\nthe searching eye of the Military Governor.\r\n\r\nHer visits became less frequent, of her own free will, and in time\r\nceased altogether.\r\n\r\nSoon after the rifle incident Hansie had to call on General Maxwell,\r\nas Secretary of the Pretoria Ladies' Vocal Society, for a permit to\r\nhold rehearsals. She found him alone and disengaged, for a wonder, and\r\nso evidently pleased to see her again that she entered into\r\nconversation with him unhesitatingly.\r\n\r\nAfter she had explained the object of her visit and apologised for\r\ntroubling him about such a trifle, she told him that she had been\r\ninformed in other Departments that as there was no institution for\r\ngranting permits to hold rehearsals, she would have to get a special\r\npermit from the Military Governor.\r\n\r\n\"Why,\" he exclaimed in surprise, \"can you not rehearse without a\r\npermit?\"\r\n\r\n\"No,\" Hansie answered laughingly. \"Do you not know that two or three\r\nmay not gather together except in the name of the Governor under the\r\nnew regulations and since the execution of Cordua? Why, we may be\r\nconspiring against your life instead of rehearsing our songs, and at\r\nthe present moment we can hardly put our noses out-of-doors without\r\nbeing asked whether we have permits for them.\"\r\n\r\n\"You are right,\" he answered; \"I did not think of this. Well, you may\r\nhave your permit on condition that you promise to talk no politics and\r\nto be in your own homes before 7 p.m.\"\r\n\r\nHansie gave the promise on behalf of the vocal society, and yet\r\nanother war-permit was added to her curious collection! With all the\r\nfriendliness existing between the Governor and herself, I do not for a\r\nmoment think that they ever trusted one another completely. Were they\r\nnot both good patriots? Hansie knew by the questions he asked her that\r\nhe was trying to extract information from her, and the Governor only\r\ntold her as much as he thought she could use to his own advantage.\r\n\r\nOn this particular occasion, when he parted from her, he asked in a\r\nfatherly, I-take-such-an-interest-in-you way whether she ever heard\r\nfrom her brothers.\r\n\r\n\"No,\" she exclaimed in innocent surprise. \"How can I?\" (and at the\r\ntime she spoke truth). Whereupon he sympathetically murmured something\r\nabout \"a very trying time for you.\"\r\n\r\nPermits everywhere and for everything!\r\n\r\nMen were stopped in the streets to show their residential passes,\r\nprivate carriages were held up and the occupants requested to produce\r\ntheir permits for vehicle and horses, and cyclists had to dismount a\r\ndozen times a day at the sign of some khaki-clothed figure patrolling\r\nthe streets.\r\n\r\nThe first British officers to cross Harmony's threshold as visitors\r\nand equals were a colonel and a young captain, who both came from\r\nWynberg with letters of introduction from Mrs. van Warmelo's daughter,\r\nMrs. Henry Cloete.\r\n\r\nAfter the long months of irregular correspondence, always severely\r\ncensored, it was such a relief to get news direct that the bearers\r\nwere welcomed gratefully.\r\n\r\nThey called again, and the dignified presence of the Colonel soon\r\nbecame a familiar sight at Harmony. With him it was quite possible to\r\nconverse, for he avoided every painful topic with the utmost tact and\r\ngood-breeding, but the Captain was a veritable firebrand, and many\r\nwere the heated arguments carried on during his visits.\r\n\r\nAs the weary, weary months dragged on, and the most sanguine could not\r\nsee the end of the terrible war, it seemed as if feeling grew stronger\r\nand the power of endurance lessened.\r\n\r\nEven the occasional visits of the British officers became trying to\r\nthe van Warmelos, and one day her mother asked Hansie to request the\r\nCaptain not to come again, valiantly retreating to the garden when\r\nnext he called, and leaving her daughter to fight it out with him\r\nalone.\r\n\r\n\"I am very sorry,\" he said, \"but what have _I_ done?\"\r\n\r\n\"Nothing,\" Hansie answered, \"but you see it is against our principles,\r\nand we would like you to wait until the war is over----\" The hateful\r\ntask was over, and the Captain took his departure, not to return\r\nagain.\r\n\r\nHansie refused obstinately to go over the same ground with the\r\nColonel. He came so seldom, and he was such a kind and courteous old\r\ngentleman, that it seemed unnecessary to put an end to his visits, and\r\nin time his own good feeling told him to discontinue them.\r\n\r\nIt was in the summer of 1901, when the days at Harmony were spent in\r\nthe fruit-laden garden and great jars of apples, pears, peaches, and\r\nfigs were being canned and preserved for winter use, that thoughts\r\nstrayed most lovingly and persistently to the two hungry brothers in\r\nthe field.\r\n\r\n\"Where are they, I wonder?\" was a frequent exclamation. \"Did they ever\r\nreach the Boer commandos, and oh, when shall we hear from them?\"\r\n\r\nGreat were the rejoicings when Dr. Mulder, who was on his way to\r\nHolland, and had got permission from the British to pass through\r\nPretoria from the Boer lines, arrived at Harmony with the news that he\r\nhad seen the two van Warmelos in the English camp at Nooitgedacht,\r\nafter its capture by the Boers under General Beyers. They were well\r\nand in good spirits then, and the delight their mother and sister\r\nexperienced at seeing some one direct from the Boer lines can only be\r\nappreciated by those who know what it means to a Boer to be a captive\r\nunder British martial law.\r\n\r\nAt this time Pretoria was almost completely surrounded by the Boers,\r\nand every precaution was being taken against a possible attack. Deep\r\ntrenches were dug all round the town, electric wires put up, while the\r\nhills bristled with cannon and searchlights played from the forts\r\nincessantly at night.\r\n\r\nThe realities of war were forced upon one by the increased activity on\r\nthe Eastern Railway line to Delagoa Bay, plainly visible from the side\r\nverandah at Harmony, and, daily, train loads passed of armed soldiers,\r\nor Boer women and children being brought in from the devastated farms.\r\n\r\nArmoured trains and Red Cross carriages steamed in and out, horses,\r\ncattle, provision loads--everything that could remind one of the\r\nfierce strife raging throughout the land.\r\n\r\nAt this time it became evident that a thief or thieves were helping\r\nthemselves at night to thoroughbred fowls and fruit at Harmony, and\r\nMrs. van Warmelo asked the sergeant-major of the Military Mounted\r\nPolice to consult with her about catching the miscreants.\r\n\r\nShe suspected Kaffirs--certainly not the troops encamped about the\r\nplace, for a more orderly set of soldiers it would have been hard to\r\nfind. Their behaviour was always so exemplary that they were now and\r\nthen rewarded with baskets of fruit and vegetables from Harmony's\r\noverflowing abundance.\r\n\r\nIt was therefore perfectly natural that the sergeant-major should\r\nhurry over to the house, indignant and sympathetic, to listen to Mrs.\r\nvan Warmelo's grievances and to lay plans for the capture of the\r\ncunning thief.\r\n\r\nThat he came at dawn seemed evident, for though the police watched\r\nevery night, they never caught sight of him, and yet there were fowls\r\nmissing every morning. Things were beginning to look rather suspicious\r\nwhen, in spite of the vigilant watch kept by the police, there were\r\nonly nineteen fowls left of the sixty. Mrs. van Warmelo made up her\r\nmind to watch for herself.\r\n\r\nEarly next morning, when a fine white cock had disappeared, she set\r\nout with one of the native servants, and, following the track made by\r\nthe white feathers the bird had lost in its struggles, she came upon\r\nthe thieves' den. An ideal spot in a little hollow by the riverside,\r\nsurrounded by trees and shrubs! A small fireplace, a few old sacks and\r\ntins and a mass of feathers and bones told their own tale, and Mrs.\r\nvan Warmelo went home well satisfied.\r\n\r\nThe sergeant-major, when he heard her story, said he thought it would\r\nbe better to catch the thief red-handed in the fowl-run than to\r\nsurprise him in his den, and the police were set to watch again that\r\nnight.\r\n\r\nIn the morning two fine hens were missing! The remarks then made at\r\nHarmony on the vigilance of British soldiers in general and Military\r\nMounted Police in particular were complimentary in the extreme.\r\n\r\nThen Mrs. van Warmelo sent the boy to reconnoitre, and he soon came\r\nrunning back in great excitement, with the news that the thief, a\r\nyoung Kaffir, was sitting beside a fire, eating fowls.\r\n\r\nArmed to the teeth, the police set forth to capture him, and soon\r\nreturned with the miscreant. Such a sight he was! Glistening with fat\r\nand covered with feathers, and, as one of the soldiers remarked,\r\n\"with a corporation like the Lord Mayor.\" He was handcuffed and taken\r\nto the police camp, while the men had their breakfast before escorting\r\nhim to the Charge Office.\r\n\r\nSuddenly there was a fearful commotion.\r\n\r\nThe culprit had slipped off one of his handcuffs, crept through the\r\nwire fence unobserved, and was flying like the wind through the garden\r\ntowards the river.\r\n\r\nAfter him, in wild confusion, jumping over shrubs and furrows,\r\nfollowed half a dozen soldiers, a couple of natives, Carlo, and I\r\ndon't know how many other dogs.\r\n\r\nHe was captured by the brave corporal as he was dashing up the bank on\r\nthe other side of the river, and brought back to the camp, with his\r\nhands tied securely behind.\r\n\r\nOne month's imprisonment only and a change of diet were prescribed for\r\nhim at the Charge Office that day.\r\n\r\nThis incident, though exciting at the time, would not have been worth\r\nrecording here were it not for its connection with what happened\r\nafterwards.\r\n\r\nWhatever suspicions the military may have had of intrigues at Harmony,\r\nthese must have been removed by the fact of their having been\r\nrequested by the inmates themselves to keep a watch over the property.\r\n\r\nSo the way was being unconsciously prepared for subsequent events.\r\n\r\nAs fruit was also being stolen from time to time, the soldiers\r\nmaintained their watch over the garden, well knowing that their\r\nvigilance would be rewarded by a full share of the good things, while\r\nthey would be the losers if the pilfering were allowed to continue.\r\n\r\nWhen it became evident, a few months later, that another thief was\r\nhelping himself to her fowls, Mrs. van Warmelo made up her mind to\r\ncatch him red-handed, without the assistance of the Military Police.\r\n\r\nShe decided that he would not come back at once, and gave him two days\r\nto digest his spoil, and on the third day she got up very early in the\r\nhopes of being on the scenes before him, ready to receive him when he\r\ncame.\r\n\r\nShe had only been in the garden a few moments when she saw some one,\r\nin a stooping posture, running swiftly towards the fowl-run. A moment\r\nlater and he had seen her. He turned and ran in the opposite\r\ndirection, Mrs. van Warmelo following closely on his heels, loading\r\nher revolver as she ran and calling out, \"Stand, or I fire.\" On being\r\nwarned a second time he stopped and turned round. Mrs. van Warmelo\r\ndemanded what he was doing on her property, and he answered in good\r\nEnglish that he had lost his way, upon which Mrs. van Warmelo offered\r\nto show him the way, and ordered him to march on ahead. With the\r\nloaded revolver between his shoulders, the culprit was forced to obey,\r\nand Mrs. van Warmelo had the satisfaction of handing him over to the\r\nsergeant-major \"all by herself.\"\r\n\r\nTo save himself, the wily thief turned Queen's evidence and offered to\r\nconduct the police to a place where drink for natives was brewed and\r\nsold, but the soldiers, not relishing the idea of his escaping\r\nscot-free, first gave him a good thrashing before handing him over to\r\nbe further dealt with by the Provost-Marshal.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nCHAPTER VII\r\n\r\nPOSTAGE BY STRATEGY\r\n\r\n\r\nLife at Pretoria was at this time far from pleasant for the Boers who\r\nremained loyal to their cause.\r\n\r\nMost people who had the means, or were not bound to the country by the\r\nclosest ties, let their houses and went to Europe until the war was\r\nover. Many of those who did not leave of their own free will were sent\r\naway to the coast, where they were considered safe from plotting\r\nagainst the British, and the few remaining Boer families were\r\napparently on their best behaviour, above all dreading the fate of\r\ntheir fellow-countrymen.\r\n\r\nThe inmates of Harmony, perhaps more than any other Boers, feared\r\nbeing sent away, because they knew that watching events from afar\r\nwould be a thousand times worse than enduring the restrictions of\r\nEnglish martial law, and that banishment would make it impossible for\r\nthem to render their fighting men any services. But they found the\r\ntime of inactivity terribly trying, so much so that they began to cast\r\nabout in their minds for work, for mischief--for anything, in fact, to\r\nrelieve the daily, deadening suspense and the dread, of what they knew\r\nnot, with which they were consumed.\r\n\r\nVery galling was the severe censorship of their letters. Mrs. van\r\nWarmelo's high spirit rebelled against the continued surveillance of\r\nher correspondence and she determined to outwit the censor.\r\n\r\nThen began an exciting period of smuggling and contriving, which led\r\nto the most complete independence on their part of the services of Mr.\r\nCensor, and ended in a well-organised and exceedingly clever system of\r\ncommunication with friends in every part of the world.\r\n\r\nOn one occasion a sympathiser, leaving the country for good, offered\r\nto smuggle through to Mrs. Cloete any document Mrs. van Warmelo might\r\nwish to send.\r\n\r\nThere was nothing ready at the time, but Mrs. van Warmelo decided to\r\nmake use of this opportunity for some future occasion, and wrote to\r\nher daughter on a tiny piece of tissue-paper, \"Whatever you may\r\nreceive in future, marked with a small blue cross, examine closely.\"\r\n\r\nThis was smuggled through in some way unknown to the sender and safely\r\ndelivered to Mrs. Cloete, for people were leaving Pretoria daily, and\r\nit was not difficult to find suitable envoys.\r\n\r\nHansie had--and has to this day in her possession as a priceless\r\nmemento of the war--a small morocco case with a maroon velvet lining,\r\nwhich travelled backwards and forwards between Harmony and Alphen\r\nuntil some better way of communication was contrived. With a sharp\r\ninstrument Mrs. van Warmelo had removed the entire tray-like bottom of\r\nthe case, packed two or three closely-written sheets of tissue paper\r\nin the opening, and pressed the little tray firmly down in its place\r\nagain. A tiny blue cross carelessly pasted on the bottom of the case\r\ncarried its own message to the conspirator at Alphen.\r\n\r\nA few weeks later the case came back to Harmony with an antique gold\r\nbracelet for Hansie and a long uncensored letter, in the snug\r\nhiding-place, for Mrs. van Warmelo.\r\n\r\nThe next adventure was with a charming lady, whom we shall call \"the\r\nEnglish lady,\" she was so _very_ English. (If the truth were known,\r\nshe was not really English, but Cape Colonial, and, as is often the\r\ncase, more English than the English themselves, and more loyal than\r\nthe Queen.)\r\n\r\nShe unwisely said to a friend of Hansie's, who naturally repeated her\r\nwords to Hansie, that she would take good care not to convey letters\r\nor parcels for the van Warmelos when she left for England, as she\r\nshortly intended doing, because she was quite sure they \"smuggled,\"\r\nor, if she did consent to take anything, she would examine it\r\nthoroughly and destroy whatever it contained of a doubtful character.\r\n\r\nWhen this reached Hansie's ears she made up her mind that \"the English\r\nlady,\" and no other, would be her next messenger to Alphen. She\r\ndismissed the morocco case from her mind as unsuitable for the\r\noccasion, and deliberated long with her mother. At last she was sent\r\nto town to buy three medium-sized dolls.\r\n\r\nIt did not matter much what kind of dolls they were, but they had to\r\nhave hollow porcelain heads, and they were to be bought from one man\r\nonly, an indispensable fellow-conspirator in one of the principal\r\nstores in Church Street.\r\n\r\nWhen she came home with the dolls her mother seemed pretty well\r\nsatisfied with the heads; they looked fairly roomy from the outside,\r\nand so they were found to be when one of them had been carefully\r\nsteamed until the glue melted and the head dropped off.\r\n\r\nHansie had been writing, without lifting her head, while her mother\r\nprepared the doll. The sheets of paper, rolled up into pellets, were\r\nthen forced through the slender neck, and the dolls weighed to see if\r\nthe difference in weight were noticeable. It was not. The head was\r\nglued on again, a blue cross was marked on the body, and the dolls\r\nwere neatly wrapped in a brown-paper parcel.\r\n\r\n\"The English lady\" soon after came to pay her farewell call. After the\r\nusual formalities had been exchanged she remarked that she hoped to\r\nvisit Alphen soon after her arrival in Cape Town.\r\n\r\nMrs. van Warmelo was charmed and delighted, and asked whether she\r\nwould be good enough to take a parcel of three dolls for Mrs. Cloete's\r\nlittle daughters.\r\n\r\nThere was just one moment's hesitation, then \"the English lady rapidly\r\nmade up her mind.\" \"Yes, with pleasure, but I must have the parcel\r\nto-morrow, because my trunks have to be closed and sent on ahead.\"\r\n\r\nMrs. van Warmelo turned to her daughter in grave consultation. \"Let me\r\nsee, it is too late now, the shops will be closed, but you can perhaps\r\ngo to town on your bicycle early to-morrow morning to buy the dolls\r\nand have them sent straight to Mrs. ----'s house.\"\r\n\r\n\"Yes, mother, I'll do that with pleasure, but I won't have them sent.\r\nI'll take them to her myself to be quite sure that she will have them\r\nbefore twelve o'clock.\"\r\n\r\nThe next morning Hansie took the dolls to her fellow-conspirator\r\nbehind the counter and had them made up into an unmistakably\r\n_professional_-looking parcel, tied and sealed with the label of the\r\nshop.\r\n\r\nThus were the suspicions of \"the English lady\" lulled to rest. For her\r\ncomfort, should this ever reach her eye, I may say that there were no\r\ndangerous communications in the doll's head, and should she feel\r\nresentful at having been outwitted, she should have known better than\r\nto _dare_ one of her country-women under martial law.\r\n\r\nOn other occasions sympathetic friends were willingly made use of, and\r\nthe methods of smuggling were so carefully planned in every case that\r\nnone of the bearers ever got into trouble, with one exception.\r\n\r\nA foreign gentleman of high position, through his own carelessness,\r\nfound himself in a difficult and unpleasant situation. He was leaving\r\nfor Europe and expressed his willingness to take letters or documents,\r\nprovided they were packed so carefully that there would be no danger\r\nof their being discovered.\r\n\r\nMrs. van Warmelo asked him if he could let her have any little article\r\nin daily use and which he was in the habit of carrying about in his\r\npockets. He said that he would think about it, and sent her, next day,\r\na silver cigarette-case with a watered-silk lining. It did not take\r\nlong to remove the lining and to pack the letters under it. When the\r\nlining was replaced and the cigarettes lay in neat rows against it,\r\nthe most careful observer could not detect anything unusual. These\r\nletters were destined for Mr. W.T. Stead and contained a full account\r\nof the condition of the Irene Concentration Camp.\r\n\r\nIn addition to this, Hansie gave her friend a photo of herself in a\r\nsturdy frame, containing a hidden letter for Mrs. Cloete, whilst\r\ninstructing him to destroy the epistle if he could not hand it over to\r\nMrs. Cloete personally, moreover, not to remove the letter from the\r\ncigarette-case until he arrived in London.\r\n\r\nAt Cape Town he met at the hotel a man who professed to be a great\r\npro-Boer and with whom he soon became so friendly that he, finding it\r\nimpossible to go out to Alphen himself, indiscreetly entrusted Mrs.\r\nCloete's letter into the hands of this stranger, with the result that\r\nit was taken direct to the military authorities.\r\n\r\nOur friend was arrested the next day as he was boarding the ocean\r\nliner, and was kept under strict surveillance while his luggage was\r\nbeing overhauled.\r\n\r\nWe were told afterwards by friends who witnessed the scene that,\r\nduring the process, he sat on deck with the utmost unconcern, smoking\r\ncigarettes and toying with a silver case! No further evidence having\r\nbeen found against him, he was allowed to sail away in peace, and Mrs.\r\nCloete too escaped without so much as a warning, perhaps because the\r\ncontents of the letter were not considered sufficiently incriminating.\r\n\r\nMr. Stead received the documents hidden in the cigarette-case in due\r\ntime and made full use of their contents in his monthly magazine, _The\r\nReview of Reviews_.\r\n\r\nAlthough, surprising to relate, no steps were taken against the\r\nconspirators at Harmony, they soon noticed an extraordinary increase\r\nin the vigilance of the censor, so much so, that the most harmless\r\ncommunications failed to reach their destination, and when by chance\r\nanything was allowed to pass through it was mutilated beyond\r\nrecognition, whole sentences being smirched with printer's ink or\r\npages cut away by the ruthless hand of the censor.\r\n\r\nIt may seem a small thing now, but this state of affairs, when letters\r\nand papers were the only consolation one had, became a source of such\r\nkeen annoyance and distress that Hansie decided to approach the censor\r\nand ask him the reason for such petty persecutions.\r\n\r\nThe head censor being away at the time, she was shown into the\r\npresence of a man whose very appearance excited her strongest\r\nantipathy. In the first place he had a purely Dutch name, and she knew\r\nthat he could not occupy a position of so much trust under the British\r\nwithout being a traitor to his own countrymen.\r\n\r\nSecondly, he seemed to derive much pleasure from her visit and, when\r\nshe told him who she was, had the audacity to say:\r\n\r\n\"I always enjoy your letters very much, Miss van Warmelo; they quite\r\nrepay me for my trouble!\"\r\n\r\nWhen taxed with confiscating and mutilating them, he was all concern\r\nand innocence personified.\r\n\r\nNo, indeed, he could never be guilty of such a breach of gallantry and\r\netiquette, the fault must lie elsewhere; he was her friend, and if she\r\nwould promise to bring all her letters to him personally, he would see\r\nthat they were passed.\r\n\r\n\"Miserable Renegade!\" she thought, with boiling blood.\r\n\r\nInstantly it flashed through her mind that it would be foolish indeed\r\nto make an enemy of this man. Her whole manner changed.\r\n\r\n\"How _very_ kind of you!\" she said. \"Yes, I shall come myself if you\r\nare sure I shall not be giving you too much trouble.\"\r\n\r\n\"A pleasure, I assure you,\" bowing with great gallantry, and Hansie\r\nwent home to tell her mother what had happened.\r\n\r\nAfter this interview with the censor, he allowed their letters to pass\r\nwith unfailing regularity.\r\n\r\nTrue to her promise, Hansie took her European mail to him herself\r\nevery week, and this brought her into contact with him frequently. He\r\nwas always affable (hatefully affable) and obliging, and the thought\r\nof this man made it more and more difficult for her to write,\r\nespecially those letters destined for the north of Holland.\r\n\r\nOne day she asked her mother to think of some plan by which she could\r\nuse the censor for her own purposes, without his knowledge, and this\r\nset Mrs. van Warmelo's active mind and resourceful brain working, with\r\nwhat result we shall see in our next chapter.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nCHAPTER VIII\r\n\r\nOUTWITTING THE CENSOR\r\n\r\n\r\nIf the method of writing between the lines in chemicals presented\r\nitself to Mrs. van Warmelo's mind for a moment, it was dismissed as\r\ntoo crude and well-known, and, in consequence, too dangerous.\r\n\r\nAnd yet she found her thoughts reverting persistently to chemicals as\r\nthe only solution to the problem before her. One day she took the\r\nstrained juice of a lemon and wrote a few words with it on a sheet of\r\nwhite paper. When dry, there was no trace of the written words to be\r\nseen until she had passed a hot iron over them. Imagine her joy and\r\nsatisfaction when they showed up clear and distinct, in a colour of\r\nyellowish brown. Well satisfied with her experiment, she sought and\r\nfound a square white envelope of thick paper and good quality, which\r\nshe carefully opened out, by inserting and rolling the thin end of a\r\npenholder along the part that was glued. Spreading the envelope before\r\nher on the table, she wrote some sentences in lemon juice on the\r\n_inside_, folding it into shape again and pasting it down with great\r\ncare and neatness. This envelope she placed in Hansie's hands, with an\r\nexpectant look, when the latter came home that afternoon.\r\n\r\nHansie turned it over, examined it on all sides and shook her head,\r\npuzzled.\r\n\r\n\"Open it,\" her mother suggested, \"and look inside.\"\r\n\r\nHansie opened it and, peering into it, shook her head again, more\r\nmystified than ever.\r\n\r\n\"I give it up, mother,\" she said. \"Come, don't be so mysterious--tell\r\nme what it all means.\"\r\n\r\nMrs. van Warmelo then took the envelope, opened it with the penholder\r\nagain, and, producing the hot iron which she had been keeping in\r\nreadiness for the psychological moment, she ironed out the flattened\r\nsheet and revealed to the astonished gaze of her daughter the written\r\nwords within.\r\n\r\nAt first Hansie was speechless with admiration; then she threw her\r\narms round her mother and hugged her vigorously.\r\n\r\n\"Really, mother,\" she exclaimed, \"I am proud of you. How we shall be\r\nable to dupe 'Miserable Renegade' now!\"\r\n\r\nThe full importance of this discovery was not realised at the time,\r\nfor all their smuggling had hitherto been carried on merely for\r\npleasure and they had had no information of any importance to\r\ncommunicate to their friends across the seas; but, in the light of\r\nafter-events, they realised that they had been led to make their\r\npreparations and to have their methods in full working order before\r\nthe time came to use them in conveying dispatches from the Boer Secret\r\nService to President Kruger in Holland.\r\n\r\nThey were now in the possession of a scheme which defied detection,\r\nand the next thing to be done was to inform some distant conspirator\r\nof this valuable discovery and instruct him in the use of it.\r\n\r\nThat this could not be done through the post, my reader will\r\nunderstand, and as reliable opportunities were becoming more rare,\r\nHansie had to wait some months and to possess her soul in patience\r\nuntil at last some trusted friend, leaving the country, could be\r\npersuaded to convey the important instructions.\r\n\r\nWhen and how they were eventually sent I cannot tell with positive\r\ncertainty. There is a difference of opinion on this point between Mrs.\r\nvan Warmelo and her daughter, and there is no way of settling the\r\ndispute, because Hansie's diary contains no word about the White\r\nEnvelope, for reasons which it will hardly be necessary to explain.\r\n\r\nMrs. van Warmelo says the instructions were dispatched in a false\r\ndouble-bottom of an ordinary safety match-box. Hansie thinks they were\r\neither hidden behind a photo-frame or in a tin of insect-powder, both\r\nthese methods having been employed on various occasions, but at\r\npresent we are only concerned with the fact that the instructions\r\nreached their destination safely, and from that day until the end of\r\nthe war a gloriously free and uninterrupted communication was kept up\r\nbetween Harmony and Alphen and one spot in the north of Holland, of\r\nwhich we shall hear more as our story unfolds itself.\r\n\r\nFurther experimenting showed that the lemon-juice became visible after\r\na few days when written on certain papers, while on others there was\r\nnothing to be seen after many weeks, and this danger was immediately\r\ncommunicated to Holland as a very serious one, for it stands to reason\r\nthat the danger connected with the sending of the White Envelope\r\n_from_ South Africa was nothing compared to the danger of receiving\r\none and having it censored three weeks after it had been written.\r\n\r\nOne had to keep in mind that letters leaving the country would be\r\ncensored immediately and would not be subjected to further scrutiny in\r\nEurope, whereas letters for South Africa ran every risk of being\r\nbetrayed on examination, after a three-weeks' journey by land and sea.\r\n\r\nWhen the smuggled instructions were well on their way, the first White\r\nEnvelope was written to Holland, and carelessly thrust amongst a pile\r\nof other letters by the quaking Hansie when next she handed her mail\r\nto \"Miserable Renegade.\"\r\n\r\nHe glanced through them all without examining them, merely putting the\r\nmark of the censor on them and assuring Hansie that they would be\r\nforwarded that very day.\r\n\r\nNo seven weeks could have been longer or more full of suspense than\r\nthose which followed, and the excitement at Harmony when in due time a\r\nsquare white envelope in the well-known hand arrived from Holland can\r\nbetter be imagined than described.\r\n\r\nWith what anxiety it was opened and how eagerly examined before the\r\nhot iron was applied! how keen the delight when nothing legible was\r\nfound, even on the closest inspection! What relief, at last, when the\r\nwritten messages became not only legible, but clear and distinct!\r\n\r\nSo this method was going to answer beyond their wildest expectations!\r\n\r\nTo make assurance doubly sure, and because Hansie did not trust\r\n\"Miserable Renegade\" one jot, she sometimes made use of friends, going\r\nto Johannesburg, to post her White Envelope there, giving as her\r\nreason for doing so the difficulties she had had with the Pretoria\r\ncensor.\r\n\r\nOf course the secret of the White Envelope was not confided even to\r\nher most intimate friends.\r\n\r\nThis correspondence having been fairly established, there was nothing\r\nto prevent Hansie from using the European mail every week; but to\r\navoid needless risks and the possible exposure of the valuable secret,\r\nit was agreed to use it only in cases of extreme necessity.\r\n\r\nThe sign of the White Envelope became an understood thing between the\r\nconspirators, and for all other correspondence grey and coloured\r\nenvelopes were used.\r\n\r\nThe correspondent in the north of Holland was a young minister of the\r\nGospel who had taken for years an unusual interest in Hansie's career.\r\n\r\nAt this point of our story the two young people, after some years of\r\nestrangement, brought about by an unfortunate misunderstanding on his\r\npart, pride and self-will on hers, had reached the delightfully\r\nunsettling stage of exchanging photographs, the sequel of which took\r\nplace under the most romantic circumstances, not to be related in this\r\nvolume.\r\n\r\n\"It is an ill wind that blows nobody any good,\" the young man must\r\noften have thought, as he faithfully carried out every instruction\r\nfrom the scene of action.\r\n\r\nAll communications for the President and Dr. Leyds were sent to him\r\n(through the White Envelope), because it was not considered safe to\r\ncorrespond with them direct, even through the medium of the\r\nlemon-juice discovery.\r\n\r\nAs time went on, this method of communication was used for many\r\npurposes and always with success, but some time after the war, when it\r\nwas Hansie's right and privilege to go through the war correspondence\r\nof the young minister of religion, she came upon a letter from Dr.\r\nLeyds to him, in which she read, with growing interest, the following\r\ninformation:\r\n\r\n\"I cannot conceal from you that I was startled when I opened the last\r\nwhite envelope, for I was able to read the whole report, though the\r\nwriting was faint, without applying the heating process to it. Perhaps\r\nthis letter lay in a warm place near the engine-rooms on the voyage.\r\nWill you not send a timely warning? You could, for instance, say that\r\nthe measles have come out and are plainly visible, even without the\r\napplication of hot compresses. Those people are quite clever enough to\r\nunderstand what you wish to convey to them.\"\r\n\r\nThis warning did not reach Harmony at the time. Perhaps the censor,\r\ntrained as he must have been in the art of reading dangerous meanings\r\ninto seemingly harmless sentences, decided in his own mind that it\r\nwould be advisable to keep the information about the measles to\r\nhimself, and consigned the letter to the waste-paper basket.\r\n\r\nIn time experience taught the conspirators at Harmony that the\r\ngreatest care would be necessary in the use of the White Envelope, and\r\nto this they probably owe the fact that it was never found out by the\r\nenemy.\r\n\r\nThe reproductions given here of specimens of the White Envelope,\r\nshowing the address on one side and the written messages on the other,\r\nwill give the reader an idea of how this correspondence was carried\r\non. We do not vouch for the accuracy of the information conveyed in\r\nthe following translation of the contents of this envelope. The\r\nfigures were quoted from memory, but the general impression conveyed\r\nin this report, of the condition of the commandos at the time, is\r\nreliable and correct. On the side flaps of the envelope certain love\r\nmessages were written. These have been covered over with blank paper\r\nand are not for publication.\r\n\r\n [Illustration: (I) LETTER FROM HEAD OF SECRET SERVICE TO\r\n PRESIDENT.]\r\n\r\n [Illustration: (2) LETTER FROM HEAD OF SECRET SERVICE TO\r\n PRESIDENT.]\r\n\r\n [Illustration: (3) LETTER FROM HEAD OF SECRET SERVICE TO\r\n PRESIDENT.]\r\n\r\n\r\n[_Translation_]\r\n\r\n CONTENTS OF WHITE ENVELOPE\r\n\r\n _From Head of Secret Service to President_\r\n\r\n PRETORIA, _February 12th, 1902_.\r\n\r\n With Commandos all is still about the same as when I was here in\r\n December. Much ammunition has been taken from the enemy\r\n recently.\r\n\r\n No want of food, horses fairly good, but clothing very scarce.\r\n\r\n Three weeks ago I was with the Commandant-General. All well with\r\n him. Government in good health, burghers full of courage. Good\r\n tidings received from President Steyn.\r\n\r\n _Everything_ plentiful in Free State.\r\n\r\n General Botha is now in Ermelo district with 1,000 men; de la\r\n Rey between Klerksdorp and Rustenburg, 1,500 men; Beyers near\r\n Pietersberg, 1,000 men; Muller near Pilgrim's Rest, on Delagoa\r\n line, with 600 or 700 men; Piet Viljoen between Heidelberg and\r\n Middelburg, 1,200; Christian Botha, district Utrecht, 600; Smuts\r\n has gone to the Colony with 1,500. These are the big Commandos\r\n only. There are many small forces of 100 or a few hundred men\r\n under petty officers. Engagements: January 15th General Botha\r\n defeated enemy. Three wounded on our side. Enemy's loss, 46\r\n killed, 92 wounded, 150 prisoners. 200 horses taken, 15,000\r\n rounds of ammunition. Great victory by Commandant-General on the\r\n 3rd inst. No full report received yet.\r\n\r\n Everywhere small engagements.\r\n\r\n Many prisoners taken from our ranks lately, through the poor\r\n condition of our horses. Things better now. De la Rey has had a\r\n few small victories. On December 25th engagement under de Wet\r\n near Frankfort. Our side victorious. A camp of 500 men taken,\r\n 150 killed and wounded, 200 captures, 2 Armstrongs taken with\r\n 400 shells; 1 Nordenbeldt with 2,500 maxim pompoms; rifle\r\n ammunition 150,000; all the horses and cattle. The enemy is\r\n plundered daily. Health of burghers excellent. Plenty of fruit.\r\n Our losses, as usual, miraculously small.\r\n\r\n Through perseverance and faith we hope to gain a certain\r\n victory.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nCHAPTER IX\r\n\r\nJAN CELLIERS, POET AND PATRIOT\r\n\r\n\r\nThat there is more than one man of the name of Jan Celliers in South\r\nAfrica I know, but there is only one Jan Celliers who can be honoured\r\nby the title \"Poet and Patriot,\" and that is the remarkable\r\npersonality of our friend in Pretoria, J.F.E. Celliers.\r\n\r\nI have chosen him as the subject of this chapter, not so much because\r\nof the important, I may almost say revolutionary part he has played in\r\nthe building up of South African literature since the war, as on\r\naccount of the unique patriotism displayed by him throughout the war\r\nunder circumstances of the severest test and trial.\r\n\r\nHow he, after active service in the field since the beginning of the\r\nwar, came to be locked up in Pretoria as an unseen prisoner of war, an\r\nunwilling captive between the green walls of his suburban garden, when\r\nthe British took possession of the capital on that stupefying June\r\n5th, 1900, we shall briefly relate in this chapter.\r\n\r\nMr. Celliers' experience was that of many good and faithful burghers.\r\n\r\nThe news of heavy Boer losses, the desperately forced march of the\r\nBritish troops from Bloemfontein to Pretoria, the crushing blows in\r\nquick succession, the departure of the Boer Administration from the\r\nseat of government, the demoralisation of the scattered forces, and\r\nthe painful uncertainty of what the next step was to be--these things,\r\ncombined with the fact, in Mr. Celliers' case, of having no\r\nriding-horse or bicycle on which to escape from the town, caused him\r\nto be surprised by the wholly unexpected entry of the British forces\r\ninto the capital. Just a brief period of dazed inaction, a few hours\r\nof stupefied uncertainty, and he found himself hopelessly cut off from\r\nevery chance of escape.\r\n\r\nHe planned escape from the beginning, for conscientious scruples\r\nforbade his taking the oath of neutrality. Of the oath of allegiance\r\nthere was no question whatever.\r\n\r\nThere was nothing for it but to keep himself hidden until an\r\nopportunity for escaping to his fellow-countrymen in the field\r\npresented itself.\r\n\r\nThe first three weeks were spent in the garden, but it soon became\r\nevident that listening ears and prying eyes were being paid to\r\ndiscover his whereabouts, and closer confinement was found necessary.\r\nThereafter he sat between four walls, reading and writing during the\r\ngreater part of the day, keeping a watchful eye on the little front\r\ngate through a narrow opening in the window-blind and disappearing,\r\nthrough a trap-door, under the floor as soon as a soldier or official\r\nentered the gate.\r\n\r\nWhen darkness fell he left his cramped hiding-place, and gliding\r\nunseen through the house and yard, this weary prisoner occupied\r\nhimself with exercises for the preservation of his health, running,\r\njumping, standing on his head, and plying the skipping-rope\r\nvigorously, under the protecting shadows of the dark cypress trees.\r\n\r\nThe weeks went by, broken once by the intense excitement of a visit of\r\none of the burghers from the field.\r\n\r\nMrs. Celliers' brother, M. Dürr, had crept into town at dead of night\r\nbetween the British sentinels on a dangerous mission for the Boers. A\r\nshort week he spent with his brother-in-law, sharing his confinement\r\nand making plans for his escape. Then he was gone, and the old deadly\r\nmonotony settled over the house once more.\r\n\r\nJuly went by, and August was nearly spent when at last an opportunity\r\npresented itself, and Mr. Celliers, in woman's garb, bade wife and\r\nchildren a passionate farewell, not to see them again for nearly two\r\nyears.\r\n\r\nWith a cloak over his shoulders and a high collar concealing his\r\nclosely cropped hair, his wife's skirt on, and a heavy veil covering a\r\nstraw hat, he stepped boldly into a small vehicle standing waiting\r\nbefore his gate and drove through the streets of Pretoria. For the\r\ntime at least he too belonged to the \"Petticoat Commando.\" Mrs. Malan\r\nwas in the cart, and had been sent by Mrs. Joubert to escort him\r\nthrough the town.\r\n\r\nThe disguise was taken before a thought could be given to the possible\r\nconsequences of such a step. Spurred by the heroic attitude and fine\r\ncourage displayed by his wife, Mr. Celliers lost not a moment in\r\navailing himself of the long-looked-for opportunity.\r\n\r\nThe thrilling adventures and hairbreadth escapes he went through in\r\nthat memorable flight for duty and freedom will no doubt be found\r\naccurately recorded in his book on the war, which I know to be \"in the\r\nmaking\" at the present moment. Suffice it to say that he reached the\r\nfarm of a friend near Silkatsnek in safety, where, he had been\r\ninformed, he would find Boer commandos in the neighbourhood.\r\n\r\nDisappointment awaited him, however. The commando had withdrawn to the\r\nnorth, followed closely by thousands of British troops whose proximity\r\nto the farm made it dangerous, not only for him, but for the people\r\nwho harboured him, to remain there longer than one night. A farm-hand,\r\na trusted native servant, was asked to undertake the task of escorting\r\nMr. Celliers to the Boer lines. After some hesitation he consented.\r\nThe risk was great, but the promise of £20 reward when the war was\r\nover acted like a charm, and the two set forth before break of day on\r\ntheir perilous adventure.\r\n\r\nHere and there the tiny light of an outpost on the open field warned\r\nthem to make a wide _détour_. The crackling of the short burnt\r\nstubbles of grass under their feet caused them to hold their breath\r\nand listen with loudly beating hearts for the dreaded \"Halt! Who goes\r\nthere?\"\r\n\r\nWhen the light of day began to break over earth and sky, the Kaffir,\r\nin evident anxiety, warned the _Baas_ to hide in a large dense tree\r\nwhile he, the Kaffir, went on ahead to reconnoitre. He departed--not\r\nto return again, base coward that he was, and the unfortunate man in\r\nthe tree waited for hours until it dawned on him that he had been\r\ndeserted at the most critical moment. He stepped from his\r\nhiding-place, quickly deciding to walk nonchalantly forward, the open\r\nveld leaving no possible means of pursuing his way under cover.\r\n\r\nHe passes many isolated homesteads, some ruined and deserted, others\r\ninhabited by aged people, delicate women, and little children only.\r\nOne and all they shrink from him when he relates his story. They do\r\nnot trust him--he may be in the employment of the British, a trap set\r\nfor the unwary; their homes are closed to him. He pursues his way\r\nwearily. What is that approaching him in the distance? With straining\r\neyes he is able to distinguish a group of horsemen coming towards him,\r\nand with lightning-like rapidity he turns from his course and jumps\r\ninto the washed-out bed of a small rivulet flowing by. A group of\r\nstartled Kaffir children gaze at him in astonishment. The riders come\r\nin clear view--not horsemen, but a number of Kaffir women with\r\nearthenware pots on their heads. These they fill with water, and\r\nmounting their horses depart the way they came.\r\n\r\nWith renewed hope and thankfulness at his heart our traveller resumes\r\nhis course in the lengthening shadows of the short winter afternoon.\r\nAt last he reaches a German mission station.\r\n\r\nNo refuge for him here! For the inhabitants are \"neutral,\" but he is\r\ninformed that a few days before 20,000 British troops had passed that\r\nway in a northward direction, in hot pursuit of the Boer commandos\r\nfleeing to the Waterberg district. The benevolent old missionary\r\ndirects him to a small farm in the neighbourhood where a Boer woman\r\nlives alone with her little children. Perhaps she can give him some\r\nidea of the safest route for him to take. But no, the woman turns from\r\nhim in extreme agitation, refuses to answer his questions, and is so\r\nevidently distressed at his appearance that he turns away and\r\nwithdraws to the veld to think. What now? What now?\r\n\r\nHe is sitting on the outskirts of the great bush-veld, that endless\r\nstretch of forest-growth, dense and dark as far as the eye can reach.\r\nShall he enter that, unarmed, without provisions or water and totally\r\nignorant of the direction to take? He shudders. The blackness of the\r\nnight is creeping over the scene, and over his soul desolation and\r\ndespair.\r\n\r\n\"I must return to the mission station,\" he decides at last. \"Surely\r\nthey will give me refuge for the night!\"\r\n\r\nSlowly he drags his weary limbs across the veld, hesitatingly he\r\npresents himself, falteringly he proffers his request. A moment's\r\nhesitation and the family circle opens to receive him, its members\r\ncrowd round him with words of comfort and small deeds of love. They\r\nare not doing _right_, but they will do _well_. Nothing is left undone\r\nto restore and refresh the exhausted fugitive, who soon finds himself\r\nin a perfect haven of domestic happiness and luxury.\r\n\r\nAs the evening wears on, the small harmonium is opened, and while the\r\nyounger members of the family are singing sweet part-songs together,\r\nour hero turns over the leaves of a small book he has found lying on\r\nthe table, a book of German quotations. His eyes are attracted by the\r\nfollowing lines by Dessler:\r\n\r\n Lenkst du durch Wusten meine Reise,\r\n Ich folg, und lehne mich auf Dich\r\n Du gibst mir aus der Wolken Speise\r\n Und Tränkest aus dem Felsen mich,\r\n Ich traue Deinen Wunderwegen,\r\n Sie enden sich in Lieb und Segen,\r\n Genug, wenn ich Dich bei mir hab.\r\n\r\nThey are like balm to his troubled soul, and he commits them to memory\r\nfor future use. God knows the future looks desperate enough to him,\r\nfor he feels that he cannot remain in this haven of rest.\r\nConsideration for the safety of his kind friends forbids this. He soon\r\ndeparts, having heard that, for the present at least, the western\r\ndirection is open to him, and, in taking this, his tribulations begin\r\nafresh.\r\n\r\nUnused to exercise as he has been during the long months of his\r\nconfinement, this traveller, in pursuing his course with so much\r\npatience and steadfast determination, now finds himself hardly able to\r\nwalk. The tender feet are swollen and bleeding to such an extent that\r\nhe finds it impossible to remove his heavy boots. Halting, stumbling,\r\nhe continues on his way.\r\n\r\nBy good fortune he meets with another Kaffir guide, who leads him to a\r\nsmall Kaffir hut and revives him with a draught of Kaffir beer. A few\r\nmoments' rest, and they are on the way again.\r\n\r\nThe day was far spent when they reached a Kaffir kraal, and here Mr.\r\nCelliers sank down in agony of mind and body, too great for words.\r\nMore Kaffir beer was respectfully tendered to him and he drank it\r\ngratefully, meanwhile watching with dull interest the Kaffir babies,\r\njet black and stark naked, except for a small fringe of blue beads\r\nabout the loins, as they crept around him, like so many playful\r\nkittens.\r\n\r\nHe was not long allowed to rest, the good guide urging him to make a\r\nfinal effort, and encouraging him with the assurance that he would\r\nfind a farm not far distant, the home of Mr. Piet Roos, of Krokodil\r\nPoort.\r\n\r\nThis goal was reached that night, and a cordial welcome given to the\r\npoor exhausted traveller, although he was warned that he could by no\r\nmeans consider himself safe on the farm, as the British passed it\r\nnearly every day. Nigh three weeks he spent there, taking refuge under\r\nthe trees of an adjacent hill by day and sleeping under the hospitable\r\nroof by night. As time went on and the visits of the Khakis became\r\nrarer, he became more at ease, and often worked with the farmer and\r\nthe women in the fields, helping them to dig sweet-potatoes, and\r\nassisting his host in the work of sorting, drying, and rolling up the\r\nleaves of the tobacco-plant. He also became an expert in the art of\r\nmaking candles, and took active part in the other small industries\r\ncarried on in that frugal and industrious household, and the evenings\r\nwere spent in poring over maps, geographical and astronomical, which\r\nhis host happened to possess. Many were the questions put to him, and\r\nlong the discussions about worlds and suns and planets, while the busy\r\nfingers plied and rolled tobacco leaves, but these discussions\r\ngenerally ended in a sigh, a shake of the head, and an unbelieving,\r\n\"there _must_ be something solid _under_ this earth,\" from the\r\nsceptical host.\r\n\r\nThe time was now approaching for the fulfilment of his heart's\r\nambition, but there is still one small incident to relate before we\r\nleave our hero. One day, while he was still on the farm, he was passed\r\nby a Kaffir, whom he questioned as to his destination. The native\r\nreplied that he was on his way to Pretoria, and the happy thought\r\noccurred to Mr. Celliers to ask this native to let his wife know that\r\nher husband was in perfect safety.\r\n\r\nNow the remarkable part of this incident was, that that unknown native\r\ntook the trouble to deliver his message faithfully and conscientiously,\r\nand it was only after the war that Mr. Celliers heard from his wife\r\nthat she had received news of his successful escape from a strange\r\nKaffir, who said he had been sent by her husband. This is a striking\r\ninstance, well worth recording here, of the sagacity and fidelity of\r\nsome members of the heathen tribes.\r\n\r\nIt was on September 13th that unexpected deliverance came in the shape\r\nof a Boer waggon in search of green forage for the horses on commando.\r\nMr. Celliers instantly decided to accompany the waggon back to the\r\nlager, and prepared himself for departure that very day. Tender,\r\ngrateful leave was taken of the good friends who had harboured him so\r\nlong, and he drove away, seated, with his few worldly possessions\r\nbeside him, on the top of a load of green forage.\r\n\r\nThe next day he arrived at the lager of Commandant Badenhorst's\r\ncommando on the farm Waterval near the \"Sein koppies,\" and now we\r\nclose the chapter with the following words, which I have translated\r\nfrom his diary:\r\n\r\n\"The crown has been set on my undertaking. God be thanked, I find\r\nmyself again amongst free men, with weapon in hand. For the first time\r\nin the past four months I feel myself secure. There is no one, on my\r\narrival, who gives one sign of interest or appreciation; one burgher\r\neven asks me why I had not rather remained in Pretoria.\r\n\r\n\"This stolid and philosophic view of life is characteristic of the\r\nBoer and certainly does not discourage me.\r\n\r\n\"Excitement and enthusiasm do not appear to be the children of the\r\ngreat solitudes, the slumbering sunlit vastnesses; nay, rather do they\r\nspring from the unbroken friction of many spirits, sparks bursting\r\nfrom the anvil of the great, restlessly driven activity of the world.\"\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nMr. Celliers remained in the field until the war was over.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nCHAPTER X\r\n\r\nA LITTLE ADVENTURE WITH THE BRITISH SOLDIER\r\n\r\n\r\nThe exquisite summer of 1901 was drawing to a close.\r\n\r\nJanuary and February had been months of unsurpassed splendour and\r\nriotous luxury in fruit and flowers, each day being more gorgeous than\r\nthe last. The glorious sunsets, the mysterious and exquisitely\r\npeaceful moonlight nights were a never-ending source of joy to our\r\nyoung writer, thrilling her being with emotions not to be described.\r\n\r\nEach morning at 5 o'clock, while the rest of the idiotic world lay\r\nasleep within its cramped boundary of brick and stone, Hansie revelled\r\nin the beauties of Nature, abandoning herself to at least one hour of\r\nperfect bliss before the toil and trouble of another day could occupy\r\nher mind.\r\n\r\nThe garden being so situated that its most secluded spots were far\r\nremoved from any sights and sounds which could remind one of the war,\r\nHansie had no difficulty in turning her thoughts into more uplifting\r\nchannels during the peaceful morning hour, spent, when the weather\r\npermitted, in her favourite corner under the six gigantic willows\r\nbelow the orange avenue.\r\n\r\nAnd the weather in those days nearly always permitted!\r\n\r\nMost of the entries in her diary she made in this fair spot, alone,\r\nbut for the sympathetic presence of her big black dog. The morning\r\nsolitude was amply atoned for by the dozens of young friends who\r\njoined the \"fruit parties\" every afternoon, filling the air with their\r\ngay voices and wholesome, happy laughter.\r\n\r\n [Illustration: THE SIX WILLOWS, HARMONY.]\r\n\r\nFour or five young men and a bevy of beautiful young girls were\r\namongst the most constant visitors at Harmony. The girls, often\r\nreferred to in Hansie's diary as the \"Four Graces,\" were certainly the\r\nmost exquisite specimens of budding womanhood in Pretoria.\r\n\r\nThere was Consuélo, tall and slender, our languid \"Spanish beauty,\"\r\nwith her rich brown hair and slumbrous dark-brown eyes; there was our\r\nlittle Marguerite, fresh and fair as the flower after which she was\r\nnamed, an opening marguerite in the dewy daintiness of life's first\r\nsummer morning; there was Annie, spoilt and wilful but undoubtedly the\r\nfairest of them all; and then there was her sister Sara, Hansie's\r\nfavourite, with a girlish charm impossible to describe. Her creamy\r\nwhite complexion, her lovely soft brown eyes, her winning smile and\r\ntender voice--what could be more delightful than to sit and watch her\r\nas she moved and spoke with rare, unconscious grace, clad in a snowy\r\ndress of fine white muslin!\r\n\r\nOne sweet summer morn, a Sabbath, if I remember correctly, when the\r\nair was filled with the fragrance of innumerable buds and blossoms,\r\nHansie sat in the accustomed spot, with her diary on her lap. She was\r\nnot writing then, but, with a slip of paper in her hands and a gleam\r\nof mischief in her eyes, she was repeating with evident enjoyment a\r\nfew catching lines.\r\n\r\n\"Oh, Carlo, this is lovely! I must learn these verses and recite them\r\nto the girls when they come this afternoon! Listen, Carlo.\"\r\n\r\n\r\nFROM KITCHENER TO SECRETARY OF STATE FOR WAR\r\n\r\n_Sunday_\r\n\r\n I am taking measures once for all to clear my reputation;\r\n I swear to give de Wet a fall that means annihilation.\r\n\r\n_Monday_\r\n\r\n A brilliant action by Brabant, the enemy has fled,\r\n Their loss was something dreadful; ours--one single Kaffir dead.\r\n\r\n_Tuesday_\r\n\r\n De Wet is short of food-stuffs, his ammunition's done,\r\n His horses are all dying, and he's only got one gun.\r\n\r\n_Wednesday_\r\n\r\n The cordon draws in round de Wet; he now has little room,\r\n He only can escape one way--by road to Potchefstroom.\r\n\r\n_Thursday_\r\n\r\n De Wet is now caged like a rat, he's fairly in a box,\r\n Around him grouped are Clements, Cléry, Methuen, French, and Knox.\r\n\r\n_Friday_\r\n\r\n An unfortunate event occurred--I report it with regret,\r\n A convoy with five hundred men was captured by de Wet.\r\n\r\n_Saturday_\r\n\r\n A Kaffir runner says he saw de Wet's men trekking west,\r\n With ammunition for two years, and food supply the best.\r\n\r\n_Saturday (later)_\r\n\r\n A loyal farmer told our Scouts de Wet was riding east,\r\n Each man, beside the horse he rode, was leading a spare beast.\r\n\r\nCarlo wagged his tail sympathetically.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nOverhead the sky was of the deepest, richest sapphire blue, paling\r\naway to the horizon to the most delicate tints, against which the\r\ndistant hills showed up in bold relief.\r\n\r\n\"Gentleman Jim,\" one of the native servants, was evidently enjoying\r\nhis Sunday too, for he loitered in the garden, plucking up a weed here\r\nand there and watching the bees at work, the busy bees who know of no\r\nday of rest.\r\n\r\n\"Bring me some grapes, please, Jim,\" Hansie called out to him.\r\n\r\n\"Yes, little missie,\" with alacrity. \"What you like? Them black ones\r\nor them white ones?\"\r\n\r\n\"Some of both.\"\r\n\r\nHe walked briskly to the house to fetch a basket and disappeared into\r\nthe vineyard, returning shortly with a plentiful supply of luscious\r\ngrapes.\r\n\r\n\"Thank you, Jim. Enough for a week!\" Hansie laughed, and he looked\r\npleased as he went off in the direction of the river.\r\n\r\nA few moments later, half concealed by the shrubs and rank grass with\r\nwhich the lower part of Harmony was overrun, Hansie noticed two\r\nstooping figures in khaki, moving forward cautiously and then making\r\nsudden dashes at some object, invisible to the girl. She watched them\r\nintently, wondering who the intruders were and what their game could\r\nbe, until they came so near that she was able to distinguish what it\r\nwas they nourished in their hands. Butterfly nets!\r\n\r\nA pair of harmless Tommies, spending their Sunday morning in catching\r\nbutterflies and the other insects of which there abounded so large a\r\nvariety at that time of the year.\r\n\r\nThey did not catch sight of the girl until Carlo sprang up barking\r\nfuriously, and then they started back in consternation and surprise.\r\n\r\n\"Lie down, Carlo,\" Hansie commanded sharply. \"Good morning,\" to the\r\nmen.\r\n\r\n\"Good morning, miss,\" respectfully; \"I hope we are not intrudin'.\"\r\n\r\n\"Certainly not. Are you catching butterflies? Show me what you have\r\ngot.\"\r\n\r\nThe men produced their spoil with pride.\r\n\r\n\"Will you have some grapes?\" Hansie asked, handing the basket to one\r\nof them, who helped himself gratefully and then passed it on to his\r\ncomrade. The latter, evidently not of a very sociable disposition,\r\ntook a bunch and walked off in pursuit of more butterflies.\r\n\r\nThe first soldier, however, squatted down on the ground at some little\r\ndistance from the girl and began to talk, as he ate the grapes with\r\ngreat relish. At this point Carlo raised himself with the utmost\r\ndeliberation, yawned, stretched himself, and sauntering (I cannot call\r\nit anything except _sauntering_) slowly towards his mistress, laid his\r\nfull length on the ground between her and the Tommy. Then he went\r\nsound asleep to all appearances, but his mistress observed that when\r\nthe soldier made the slightest movement, the dog's ears twitched or an\r\neyelid quivered.\r\n\r\nSlowly eating his grapes, the man glanced curiously at the book on\r\nHansie's lap.\r\n\r\n\"Are you sketchin', miss?\" he asked.\r\n\r\n\"No; writing.\"\r\n\r\n\"Poetry?\"\r\n\r\nThere was no answer.\r\n\r\n\"I am one of Lord Kitchener's body-guard,\" he went on presently. \"We\r\nare encamped near Berea Park on the other side of your fence. We were\r\nin Middelburg last week and I saw one of the Boer Generals, General\r\nBotha.\"\r\n\r\nHansie's heart bounded. She looked at the man incredulously.\r\n\r\n\"Indeed! How was that possible?\"\r\n\r\n\"Quite simple, miss. Lord Kitchener invited the General into town to\r\nhave an interview with him. His brother--I think his name is\r\nChristian--came with him. I acted as their orderly.\"\r\n\r\n\"Tell me more, tell me everything,\" the girl's voice shook with\r\nill-controlled emotion.\r\n\r\n\"There were five or six other men with them. They arrived at about\r\nnine in the morning and stayed until half-past four that afternoon.\r\nThey had lunch with Lord Kitchener. A fine man the General is, well\r\nset up, big and broad-shouldered.\"\r\n\r\n\"Yes, I know.\" Hansie _could not_ withhold those words.\r\n\r\n\"You know!\" he exclaimed in great surprise. \"Do _you_ know General\r\nBotha?\"\r\n\r\n\"Yes, indeed. And what is more, he is _my_ General.\"\r\n\r\nThe soldier looked at her in ludicrous amazement.\r\n\r\n\"Are you a Boer? You don't look like one, and I never heard any one\r\nspeak better English.\"\r\n\r\n\"I don't know whether what you are saying is meant as a compliment to\r\nme, but I don't like being told that I don't look like a Boer, and I\r\ncertainly would not be pleased if you took me for an Englishwoman.\"\r\n\r\nThe poor Tommy looked troubled and muttered something about \"no\r\noffence meant, I am sure.\"\r\n\r\n\"Now please go on and tell me more about the General. Did you hear\r\nanything of what he said to Lord Kitchener?\"\r\n\r\n\"Nothing, miss, except when he went away. They shook hands very\r\nhearty-like and the General said, 'Good-bye; I hope you will have good\r\nluck.' That was all.\"\r\n\r\n\"Good luck! What do you think he could have meant?\"\r\n\r\n\"We don't know, miss, but we think he meant good luck in Natal, for\r\nLord Kitchener went yesterday and I hear there is some talk of peace.\"\r\n\r\nHansie sat silent for a long time, turning these things over in her\r\nmind.\r\n\r\n\"But what is all this accursed war about, miss? We soldiers know\r\nnothing except that we have to fight when we are ordered to do so.\"\r\n\r\n\"Of course you know nothing. An English soldier is nothing but a\r\nfighting machine, not allowed to think or act for himself. Discipline\r\nis a grand thing, but Heaven protect a man from the discipline of the\r\nBritish army. The war? I will tell you if you want to know. The war is\r\na cruel and unjust attempt to rob us of our rich and independent land,\r\nand England is the tool in base and unscrupulous hands. You suffer\r\ntoo, I know, and all my heart goes out in sympathy to the bereaved and\r\nbroken-hearted Englishwomen across the seas. Their only comfort is\r\ntheir firm belief that their heroes died a noble death for freedom and\r\njustice. Did they but know the truth! They died to satisfy the lust\r\nfor gain and greed of gold of mining magnates on the Rand.\"\r\n\r\n\"Suffer, miss! As long as I live I will not forget that march from the\r\ncolony, through Bloemfontein to Pretoria. Fighting nearly every day\r\nand marching at least thirty miles a day, on _one biscuit_. There was\r\nno water to be had! Will you believe that for three days not a drop of\r\nwater passed my lips? And I heard the other fellows say, not once, but\r\na thousand times, 'Would to God that a bullet find me before night!'\r\nOur tongues were hanging from our mouths and our lips were\r\ncracked----\"\r\n\r\n\"Stop!\" Hansie cried, putting her hands to her ears. \"I do not want to\r\nhear another word. These things cannot be helped, and your officers\r\nsuffered too!\"\r\n\r\n\"The officers! When at last the water-carts came, we had to stand\r\naside and watch while bucketsful were being carried into the tents for\r\ntheir _baths_!\"\r\n\r\nThere was silence again.\r\n\r\n\"If I were an English soldier, I would run away,\" Hansie said.\r\n\r\n\"I've had enough, God knows, and when I get home I mean to leave the\r\nArmy and take up my old work--carpentering. The war can't last very\r\nlong. England is mighty--but I wish the bloomin' capitalists would\r\ncome and do the fighting, if they want this country and its\r\ngold-mines.\"\r\n\r\n\"There are only a 'few marauding bands' left, so the English say,\"\r\nHansie answered bitterly. \"But remember what I tell you now. South\r\nAfrica will be soaked in blood and tears, and a hundred thousand\r\nhearts will be broken here and in your country, before the mighty\r\nBritish Army has subdued those 'few marauding bands.'\"\r\n\r\nThe soldier's face grew troubled once again.\r\n\r\nIt was a good, strong face--a patient face--and it bore the marks of\r\nmuch suffering, endured in silence and alone.\r\n\r\nHe rose and took off his cap.\r\n\r\n\"You've been very good to me, miss. I wish I could be of some use to\r\nyou.\"\r\n\r\n\"Run away from Lord Kitchener!\" she said, laughing. \"I would be very\r\nsorry indeed if you fell by the hand of one of my brothers.\"\r\n\r\nHe looked at her sympathetically.\r\n\r\n\"How many brothers have you in the field?\"\r\n\r\n\"God only knows,\" she answered sadly. \"There were two left when last\r\nwe heard of them. The third has been made a prisoner.\"\r\n\r\nThe soldier took his leave and Hansie lost herself in reverie.\r\n\r\nAnd when at last she roused herself, she wrote with rapid pen:\r\n\r\n\"Two Tommies have been in our garden, catching butterflies----\" We\r\nknow the rest.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nThat afternoon about ten or twelve young people assembled in the\r\ngarden and were later joined by several members of the Diplomatic\r\nCorps--Consul Cinatti, Consul Aubert, and Consul Nieuwenhuis, the most\r\nfrequent visitors at Harmony.\r\n\r\n_The_ topic of conversation was connected with General Botha's visit\r\nto Lord Kitchener in Middelburg, and when Hansie told her friends what\r\nshe had heard from the soldier that morning, they expressed their\r\nconviction that every word he said must have been true.\r\n\r\nAnd the latest _official_ war news, in rhyme, the dispatch from\r\nKitchener to the Secretary of State for War, came in for its share of\r\nattention, occasioning no small amount of merriment.\r\n\r\nOh, happy afternoon! Oh, memories sweet! Oh, long departed days of\r\ngood fellowship and mutual understanding! Bright spots of gold and\r\ncrimson in our sky of lead!\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nMrs. van Warmelo never at any time encouraged evening visitors. They\r\nwere all early risers at Harmony and their life could not be adapted\r\nto the artificial, the unnatural strain of modern civilisation.\r\n\r\nSo the quiet evenings were spent by the mother in reading and writing,\r\nwhile the daughter gave herself up to the indulgence of her one great\r\npassion, music. Scales and exercises, Schubert and Chopin, and\r\ninvariably at the end--before retiring for the night--Beethoven, the\r\nMaster, the King of Music.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nCHAPTER XI\r\n\r\nPRISONER OF WAR\r\n\r\n\r\nHow the routine of life at Harmony was broken in upon by news \"from\r\nthe front\" that April month in 1901, I shall endeavour to relate.\r\n\r\nHansie coming home one morning from a shopping expedition, found her\r\nmother in a state of suppressed excitement.\r\n\r\nEverything was as much as possible \"suppressed\" in those\r\ndays--goodness only knows why, for surely it would have been better\r\nfor the nervous and highly strung mind if an occasional outburst could\r\nhave been permitted. Hansie suffered from the same complaint, and had\r\nto pay most dearly in after years for the suppression of her deepest\r\nfeelings.\r\n\r\nThere is a Dutch saying which forcibly expresses that condition of\r\ntense self-control under circumstances of a particularly trying\r\nnature. We say we are \"living on our nerves,\" and that describes the\r\ncase better than anything I have ever heard.\r\n\r\nOur heroines, like so many other sorely tried women in South Africa,\r\nwere \"living on their nerves,\" those wise, understanding nerves, so\r\nknowing and so delicate, which form the stronghold of the human frame.\r\n\r\nThe external symptoms of this state were only known by those who\r\nlived in close and constant intercourse with one another. Hansie\r\ntherefore knew, by an inflection in her mother's voice, that something\r\nout of the way had happened when she said:\r\n\r\n\"I have had a note from General Maxwell.\"\r\n\r\n\"Indeed! What does he say?\"\r\n\r\n\"He writes that Dietlof has been made a prisoner, and he encloses a\r\ntelegram from the Assistant Provost-Marshal at Ventersdorp, in the\r\nname of General Babington, to say that Dietlof is well, as was Fritz\r\nwhen last seen. See for yourself.\"\r\n\r\nHansie grabbed--yes, grabbed--the papers from her mother's\r\noutstretched hand.\r\n\r\n\"'When last seen?' Mother, what can that mean? Why have the boys been\r\nseparated?\"\r\n\r\n\"That is what I should like to know,\" her mother answered. \"I wonder\r\nhow we can find out. We must ask to see General Maxwell at once.\"\r\n\r\nThat afternoon the two women called at the Government Buildings and\r\nwere shown into the Governor's office.\r\n\r\nHe seemed to be expecting a visit from them, and Mrs. van Warmelo\r\napologised for troubling him, reminding him of the promise he had made\r\non the occasion of their very first visit to him, that he would help\r\nthem if they came to him in any trouble.\r\n\r\nThis he remembered perfectly.\r\n\r\n\"What is it you want me to do?\" he asked.\r\n\r\n\"If you will be so good, we want a permit to visit our prisoner in the\r\nJohannesburg Fort, where he will probably be kept until he is sent to\r\nCeylon or where-ever he may have to go.\"\r\n\r\n\"Certainly; I will do this with the greatest pleasure. But first we\r\nmust wire and find out his whereabouts. I'll see about the matter and\r\nlet you know at once.\"\r\n\r\nThanking him gratefully, mother and daughter took their leave.\r\n\r\n\"We should have asked permission to take a box of clothes and other\r\nlittle necessaries for our boy,\" the mother said.\r\n\r\n\"Yes, what a pity we did not think of it! But surely there could be no\r\nobjection to that! Let us get everything ready at least, and ask\r\npermission when we hear from General Maxwell again.\"\r\n\r\nThe largest portmanteau in the house was overhauled and carefully and\r\nthoughtfully packed by the mother's yearning hands.\r\n\r\nNo article of comfort was overlooked, no detail of the wardrobe\r\nconsidered too small for her closest attention and care.\r\n\r\nPresently Hansie came with _her_ contribution, a thick exercise-book\r\nand a couple of pencils.\r\n\r\n\"Put these in, mother, if you still have room. I am going to ask\r\nDietlof to write down all his adventures in this book for us to read\r\nafterwards. It will help him to get through his time of imprisonment.\"\r\n\r\n(This small act, I may add here, led to the publication of her\r\nbrother's book, _Mijn Kommando en Guerilla-Kommando leven--On\r\nCommando_, in the English edition--which was begun in Ladysmith and\r\nwritten in the Indian Fort at Ahmednagar and smuggled out to Holland\r\nunder conditions of such romantic interest: the first book on the war,\r\nwritten _during_ the war and devoured by the public in Holland long\r\nbefore it was allowed to reach South African shores--a book famed for\r\nits moderation and its truth, direct, sincere throughout.)\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nThat Saturday night poor Mrs. van Warmelo never closed her eyes. She\r\nfeared, and she had good reason to fear, that her son would pass\r\nthrough Johannesburg, and be transported to some foreign isle, before\r\na word of greeting and farewell could be made by her. The thought of\r\nthe morrow's Sabbath rest and inactivity intensified her fears.\r\n\r\nThe first thing she said to Hansie next morning was:\r\n\r\n\"You must go to General Maxwell and ask whether there is no news for\r\nus.\"\r\n\r\n\"But, mother, this is Sunday!\"\r\n\r\n\"I know that. You will have to go to his house.\"\r\n\r\n\"Oh, I could not possibly do that. What does he care about our\r\nanxieties? Besides, I think it would be most indiscreet.\"\r\n\r\n\"I don't care,\" shortly.\r\n\r\nIn the end Hansie had to go, and when once she had made up her mind\r\nshe looked forward with some pleasure to her little adventure, for\r\nthere was no one of the officials known to her for whom she had a more\r\nsincere regard than General Maxwell. His house was but a few minutes'\r\nwalk from Harmony, and Hansie, looking up at the gathering clouds,\r\nhoped that she could be home again before the approaching storm broke\r\nloose.\r\n\r\nOur \"brave\" heroine _trembled_ when she rang the bell, for all her\r\ndistaste of the task had returned with redoubled force, but her\r\nself-confidence was soon restored under the genial warmth of the\r\nGeneral's greetings.\r\n\r\nHe did not seem to be the least annoyed or displeased at this\r\nintrusion on his Sabbath privacy. And he was quite alone--not, as\r\nHansie had feared to find him, surrounded by a crowd of officers.\r\n\r\nHe told her that though he had not been able to get news of her\r\nbrother direct, he knew that a large number of prisoners had arrived\r\nat the Johannesburg Fort from Ventersdorp. He thought her brother\r\nwould probably be amongst them, and gave her special permits to\r\nJohannesburg and back, and also a letter of introduction to the\r\nMilitary Governor in Johannesburg, asking him as a personal favour to\r\nassist the ladies in their quest.\r\n\r\n\"If I were you, I would not wait for definite news, but go to-morrow\r\non the chance of finding him. Delay might bring you great\r\ndisappointment. But, tell me, Miss van Warmelo, are you not glad that\r\nyour brother has been captured and is out of danger now?\"\r\n\r\n\"Glad? No, how can I be glad? It means a man less on our side--and _he\r\nis a man_, I can assure you. If all the Boers were as brave and\r\ntrue--and such unerring marksmen--the war would soon be over.\"\r\n\r\nThe Governor looked disturbed.\r\n\r\n\"It seems to me a strange thing for a girl like you to feel so\r\nstrongly. Are all your women such staunch patriots?\"\r\n\r\n\"Not all, perhaps, but there are many who feel even more strongly than\r\nI do.\"\r\n\r\nThe General kept her there and talked of many things, asked her\r\ninnumerable questions on the country and its people, and drew her out\r\nupon the subject of the war.\r\n\r\nOutside, the elements were raging, for the storm had broken loose, and\r\nthe rain came down in torrents, while the crashing thunder pealed\r\noverhead.\r\n\r\nHansie looked anxious, and the Governor said:\r\n\r\n\"It will soon be over. Are you afraid?\"\r\n\r\n\"Oh no, I love our storms; but my mother is alone at home, and she\r\ndoes _not_.\"\r\n\r\nShe told him, toying with her permits, of her curious collection of\r\npasses and other war-curios, and he left the room with a friendly--\r\n\r\n\"Perhaps I can find something for you too,\" returning with a button\r\nfrom his coat and a colonel's crown.\r\n\r\n\"The storm is over; let us see what damage has been done,\" and he led\r\nthe way into the garden, showed her the flowers, asked the names of\r\nshrubs unknown to him.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\n\"Oh, mother, the English must not be so good to us! It is not right to\r\naccept favours at their hands, for it places us in a false position.\r\nDon't ever ask me to go to General Maxwell again.\"\r\n\r\n\"Of course not. I quite agree with you, but I am very glad to have\r\nthose permits. Did you ask about the portmanteau and box?\"\r\n\r\n\"Yes. He said it was all right, and promised to give permits, so that\r\nthey need not be examined.\"\r\n\r\nThey did not leave for Johannesburg, after all, on Monday, for a full\r\nlist of the names of prisoners from Ventersdorp arrived, but there was\r\nno van Warmelo among them.\r\n\r\nTelegrams were sent right and left, but there was something strange\r\nabout the whole affair, and no satisfactory answers could be got until\r\nfive days after the first tidings had reached Harmony. The prisoner\r\nwas at Potchefstroom.\r\n\r\nTwo more days of suspense and a note from Major Hoskins came,\r\nenclosing a telegram--\"Van Warmelo leaving to-morrow for Fort\r\nJohannesburg.\"\r\n\r\nGreat rejoicings! The women had begun to fear that their hero had been\r\nwhisked away to some remote portion of the globe, without one word\r\nfrom them.\r\n\r\nGeneral Maxwell's letters of introduction acted like a charm when\r\npresented at the various military departments in the Golden City.\r\n\r\nColonel Mackenzie, the Military Governor, gave the women a letter of\r\nintroduction to the O.C. troops, who directed them to the\r\nProvost-Marshal, Captain Short, informing them that they would find\r\nhim at his office in the Fort.\r\n\r\nThe Provost-Marshal did not know that more prisoners from\r\nVentersdorp were expected that day. He thought there must be some\r\nmistake--unless--yes, there would be another train at 5 o'clock that\r\nafternoon.\r\n\r\nThe ladies were advised to call again on Sunday morning and drove to\r\nHeath's Hotel, where they had taken up their quarters. How quiet and\r\ndeserted the Golden City looked! How bleak and desolate, with the\r\nfirst breath of winter upon it!\r\n\r\nPoor Hansie had a shocking cold, and as she drove through the silent\r\nstreets with her mother all the miseries of the past eighteen months\r\ncame crowding into her aching heart and throbbing brain.\r\n\r\nWhat would the meeting be like to-morrow? Would he be changed? And\r\nwhat would he have to tell? The question still remained whether he\r\nwould be allowed to tell them anything about the war at all----\r\n\r\nSuddenly a brilliant thought flashed into Hansie's mind.\r\n\r\n\"Oh, mother, let us go to the Braamfontein Station and see the train\r\narrive. I know we won't be allowed to speak to him, but we may at\r\nleast wave our hands and _look_ at him.\"\r\n\r\nHer mother was delighted with the thought, and at 4 o'clock that\r\nafternoon they took a cab to Braamfontein Station.\r\n\r\nThe train had been delayed, and would be in at 6 instead of 5 o'clock,\r\nso they were told, but, for fear of having been misinformed, they\r\ndecided to wait at the station.\r\n\r\nCold, dusty, pitiless, the keen wind blew on that unfriendly platform.\r\nThere was no ladies' waiting room--in fact, it seemed as if the rooms\r\nhad all been utilised for other, perhaps military, purposes.\r\n\r\nIt is incredible the amount of suffering that can be crowded into one\r\nhour of waiting!\r\n\r\nThank God, at last the train steamed in.\r\n\r\nArmed troops and an unusually large number of passengers alighted on\r\nthe platform, but there was not a prisoner to be seen. The desperate\r\nwomen walked up and down, keenly scrutinising every face they passed,\r\nuntil they heard a well-known, highly excited voice calling out\r\n\"Mother! Mother!\" to them from behind. They turned and saw their hero\r\ntumbling from the train, an armed Tommy at his heels.\r\n\r\nThere are no memories of the moments such as those which followed.\r\n\r\nThings must have been rather bad, for when Hansie looked round again\r\nthe armed soldier had turned away and was slowly walking in another\r\ndirection. Blessed, thrice-blessed Tommy!\r\n\r\nTo this day when Hansie thinks of him she remembers with a pang that\r\nshe did not shake hands with him.\r\n\r\n\"May we walk with the prisoner as far as the Johannesburg Fort?\"\r\nHansie asked.\r\n\r\n\"Certainly, miss.\"\r\n\r\nHow the people stared and turned round in the street to stare again!\r\n\r\nAnd now that I come to think of it, it must have looked remarkable--a\r\nruffianly-looking man, carrying a disreputable bundle of blankets, a\r\ntin cup and water-bottle slung across his shoulders all clanking\r\ntogether, and a small _Bible_ in his hands, with a well-dressed lady\r\non each arm and an armed soldier behind, guarding the whole!\r\n\r\nThe prisoner was a sight! The old felt hat was full of holes, through\r\nwhich the unkempt hair was sticking, and the dirty black suit was torn\r\nand greasy-looking--but the face, except for the moustache and\r\nunfamiliar beard, was the same, the look of love in the blue eyes\r\nunchanged.\r\n\r\nIt seemed like a dream, incredibly sweet and strange, to be walking\r\nthrough the streets of Johannesburg in uninterrupted conversation,\r\ncarried on _in Dutch,_ with him, and to be able to ask the burning\r\nquestions with which their hearts had been filled all day--why he was\r\nalone, where he had left Fritz, how and where he had been captured.\r\n\r\nEverything was explained on that memorable walk, simply and briefly\r\nexplained, for the time was short, and under the circumstances Dietlof\r\nwould not give any details of information concerning the war,\r\nconsidering himself bound to silence by the guard's trust in him.\r\n\r\nHe had been promoted to the position of commandeering officer by\r\nGeneral Kemp and had been in the habit, for some time past, of leaving\r\nhis commando for days at a stretch on commandeering expeditions.\r\n\r\nAbout four days before his capture he had left his people again for\r\nthe same purpose, and on this occasion he had fled before the enemy\r\nfor three days, falling into their hands through the death of his good\r\nhorse through horse-sickness.\r\n\r\nHis brother Fritz was under General Kemp with Jan and Izak Celliers\r\n(this was the first news Mrs. van Warmelo heard of Mr. Celliers' safe\r\narrival on commando, after the adventures undergone by him and\r\ndescribed in Chapter IX), and a few others of his most trusted\r\nfriends, but what they must have thought of his inexplicable\r\nnon-appearance Dietlof did not know, but he feared they would be\r\nundergoing much anxiety on his account.\r\n\r\nNear the entrance of the Fort mother and daughter took their leave,\r\nthanking the soldier warmly for his kindness to his charge, whom they\r\nhoped to see again the following morning.\r\n\r\nVery different was the meeting then!\r\n\r\nThe prisoner, a forlorn object, stood between two guards, before the\r\nProvost-Marshal's office, when the cab containing the two women drove\r\nup.\r\n\r\nHansie jumped out and was going up to her brother, when one of the\r\nsoldiers said to her:\r\n\r\n\"You may not speak to the prisoner.\"\r\n\r\n\"But I may kiss him!\" Hansie retorted, throwing her arms round his\r\nneck and giving him a kiss which could be heard all over the Fort.\r\n\r\nThere was a general laugh, and Mrs. van Warmelo promptly followed\r\nsuit.\r\n\r\nDietlof was called into the Provost-Marshal's office and\r\ncross-questioned, while his mother and sister waited outside\r\nimpatiently. What a lengthy examination! Quarter of an hour, half an\r\nhour passed, then he appeared with a soldier, who said curtly:\r\n\r\n\"You may talk to the prisoner for half an hour _in English_!\"\r\n\r\nI forget how many minutes of the precious thirty were lost in groping\r\ndesperately for some topic of conversation suitable to the occasion,\r\nand safe! but when at last they found their tongues, they talked so\r\nfast that it is doubtful whether the Tommies understood anything.\r\n\r\nHansie longed to ask her brother whether the Provost-Marshal knew\r\nanything of their escapade the night before, but dared not, hoping\r\nthat the men concerned were under the impression that this was their\r\nfirst interview with the prisoner.\r\n\r\nHe told them some of his war experiences and the fights he had been\r\nin, for the Provost-Marshal had given him permission to speak of his\r\npersonal experiences of the war.\r\n\r\nOne incident Hansie remembered particularly, because of a curious\r\ncoincidence connected with it.\r\n\r\nIn describing the battle of Moselikatsnek, under General de la Rey,\r\nin which he and Fritz had taken an active part, he told his mother and\r\nsister of a young English officer, Lieutenant Pilkington, whom he had\r\nfound lying alone in a pool of blood among the rocks and shrubs.\r\nDietlof tended him, giving him brandy from a flask which he always\r\ncarried with him for such purposes, and laying grass under him on the\r\nhard rocks. The poor man was shockingly wounded, and it was evident\r\nthat his case was hopeless. He held Dietlof's hand, imploring him not\r\nto leave him, but Dietlof was the forerunner of the seven burghers who\r\nwere forcing their way wedgelike through the English ranks in order to\r\ncompel the enemy to surrender by attacking them from behind. He\r\nconsidered it his duty to go forward, but assured the dying man that\r\nthe comrades who were following in his wake could speak English and\r\nwould care for him. The donga was strewn with dead and dying English.\r\n\r\nIn the meantime the younger brother Fritz was tending a soldier with a\r\nterrible wound in the head. The seven men were now advancing steadily\r\nfrom one ridge to the other, but Dietlof had reached a point on which\r\nthe burghers from behind were bombarding with their cannon, and as the\r\nrocks flew into the air he found it impossible to proceed.\r\n\r\nHe therefore returned, and the captain sent a dispatch-bearer down\r\nwith orders that the cannon-firing should cease.\r\n\r\nFor a moment Dietlof went back to the wounded lieutenant, where he\r\nfound some of his comrades assembled, and while they stood there the\r\nunfortunate man, exhausted by loss of blood, drew his last breath.\r\n\r\nThrough incredible dangers the seven burghers forced their way through\r\nthe donga until they reached the point from where they could attack\r\nthe enemy from behind. It was a most critical moment, for they were\r\nexposed to the constant fire of their own burghers, under Commandant\r\nCoetzee, as well as that of the enemy, but soon they were relieved to\r\nsee the white flag hoisted, and were then joined by the rest of the\r\ncommando.\r\n\r\nThe English could not believe that the party which had attacked them\r\nfrom behind had consisted of only seven men.\r\n\r\nColonel Roberts, Lieutenant Lyall, and Lieutenant Davis were taken\r\nwith 210 men of the Lincolnshire Regiment. One officer escaped while\r\nthe burghers were disarming their prisoners and yielding themselves to\r\nthe spirit of plunder with which every man is possessed after a severe\r\nstruggle for victory.\r\n\r\nOf dead and wounded the burghers had lost thirteen or fourteen men,\r\nbut the seven forerunners, who had been exposed to the greatest\r\ndangers, escaped without a scratch, while the enemy, in spite of the\r\nfact that they had been under cover throughout, lay dead and dying in\r\nlarge numbers.\r\n\r\nStrange to relate, a letter from an English officer fell into\r\nDietlof's hands some weeks later, and in glancing over it his eye fell\r\non the words, \"Lieutenant Pilkington is also dead--you know that\r\nfamous cricketer.\"\r\n\r\nAnd still later Hansie heard from her brother that one of the seven\r\nmen, Field-cornet von Zulch, who afterwards joined him as prisoner of\r\nwar in the Ahmednagar Fort, told him that he had received a letter\r\nfrom Lieutenant Pilkington's mother, begging for more particulars of\r\nher son's last moments.\r\n\r\nMany wonderful experiences were related, many glimpses given into the\r\nconditions of commando life. The young man dwelt lightly for a moment\r\non his hardships and privations, saying, \"Mother, do you know those\r\nwoollen Kaffir blankets with yellow stars and leopards, and red and\r\ngreen half-crescents?\"\r\n\r\n\"Yes,\" his mother answered expectantly.\r\n\r\n\"Well, I once had a pair of trousers made of that material.\"\r\n\r\nEveryone laughed.\r\n\r\n\"But there are worse things than _that_,\" he continued; \"unmentionable\r\nhorrors--things you pick up in the English camps and can't get rid of\r\nagain----\"\r\n\r\nHansie understood.\r\n\r\n\"You will find a tin of insect-powder in that wonderful Indian juggler\r\nof a portmanteau,\" she said, \"and don't forget to use the blank\r\nexercise-book.\"\r\n\r\nThe thirty minutes were over, and they were considerately left alone\r\nfor a few moments----\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nCHAPTER XII\r\n\r\nTHE CONCENTRATION CAMPS\r\n\r\n For a small moment have I forsaken thee; but with\r\n great mercies will I gather thee. In a little wrath I\r\n hid My face from thee for a moment; but with\r\n everlasting kindness will I have mercy on thee, saith\r\n the Lord thy Redeemer.--Isa. liv. 7 and 8.\r\n\r\n\r\nThe hand which holds my pen to-day trembles.\r\n\r\nFrom the beginning it was not my intention to touch upon the\r\nConcentration Camps, but this story of the war would be incomplete\r\nwithout at least a brief outline of that which played so important a\r\npart during the war.\r\n\r\nAfter the occupation of Pretoria, and when it was found that\r\nhostilities, instead of coming to an end, were continued under what\r\nthe English called a system of \"guerilla\" warfare, and that the Boer\r\nforces, instead of being compelled to surrender through starvation or\r\nexhaustion, continued to thrive and increase in numbers, the military\r\nauthorities found it necessary to adopt entirely new tactics. But\r\nsubsequent events showed that no greater strategical error was ever\r\ncommitted.\r\n\r\nLet me explain briefly for the benefit of those of my readers who have\r\nforgotten the details of the great South African war.\r\n\r\nThe Boer Republics had no organised force. In the event of war against\r\nnatives or against some foreign Power, the burghers were called up\r\nfrom their farms, the husbands, fathers, sons of the nation, to fight\r\nfor home and fatherland. This left the women and children unprotected\r\non the farms, but not unprovided for, for it is an historical fact\r\nthat the Boer women in time of war carried on their farming operations\r\nwith greater vigour than during times of peace. Fruit trees were\r\ntended, fields were ploughed, and harvests brought in with redoubled\r\nenergy, with the result that crops increased and live-stock\r\nmultiplied.\r\n\r\nFrom the natives they had nothing to fear--in fact, their work was\r\ncarried on with the help of native servants only. It soon became\r\nevident to the British military authorities that the Boer forces were\r\nbeing supplied with necessaries in the way of food and clothing by the\r\nwomen on the farms.\r\n\r\nFrom the Boer point of view this was right and good, but it was\r\nperfectly natural that the English should resent it, and, in isolated\r\ncases, where it was known beyond doubt to have taken place, the houses\r\nwere destroyed, and the women and children removed to the towns as\r\nprisoners of war.\r\n\r\nAs time went on and the women continued to provide their men with the\r\nnecessaries of life, the British authorities decided to lay the entire\r\ncountry waste, with the intention of depriving the Boer commandos of\r\nall means of subsistence and forcing them, through starvation, into a\r\nspeedy surrender.\r\n\r\nA systematic devastation of the two Boer Republics then took place.\r\nOnly the towns were spared; for the rest, the farms and homesteads\r\nand even small villages, throughout the length and breadth of the\r\ncountry, were laid waste. Trees were cut down, crops destroyed, homes,\r\npillaged of valuables, burnt with everything they contained, and the\r\nwomen and children removed to camps in the districts to which they\r\nbelonged.\r\n\r\nNow, we are well aware that a savage foe would have left these\r\nhelpless victims of the unavoidable circumstances of war on the veld\r\nto die, but the English are not only not savages and heathens, but\r\nthey are one of the most civilised and humane Christian nations.\r\n\r\nConcentration Camps were formed in every part of the country, and the\r\nwomen and children placed in tents on the open veld, near the railway\r\nlines where possible, or in close proximity to the towns.\r\n\r\nThe work of devastation, carried out by some British officers with\r\nloathing and distaste, and by others with fiendish exultation, was not\r\ncompleted in a few weeks or months. It was carried on right through\r\nfrom the time when the policy was decided on until peace was declared,\r\nand in the end nothing was left but the blackened ruins of once\r\nprosperous homes.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nIf ever there was a war of surprises, it was the Anglo-Boer war.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nInstead of hostilities being brought to a speedy termination by the\r\ndemolition of the farms, the Boer forces gathered and increased in\r\nstrength and numbers by the addition to their ranks of men who had\r\nleft the commandos and were again living on their farms.\r\n\r\nWives and children gone, homes devastated, there was nothing left for\r\nthe men to live for.\r\n\r\nInstead of being brought to submission by the drastic measures taken\r\nto compel them to surrender, they were transformed into raging lions,\r\nwith but one object in view, the expulsion of their enemy from the\r\nland of their birth.\r\n\r\nNot alone in the towns did the secret service do its work. As the\r\ncamps grew in size and close supervision became more difficult, the\r\nspies crept in and out, bearing with them the information wanted by\r\nthe Boer leaders, concerning the condition of the inmates.\r\n\r\nIn nine cases out of ten the earnest request of the women to their men\r\nwas to fight to the bitter end--not to surrender on their account, but\r\nto let them die in captivity sooner than yield for the sake of them\r\nand their children.\r\n\r\nPerhaps I may be allowed to say here that when Hansie was in the Irene\r\nCamp as volunteer nurse she knew nothing of the work of the spies.\r\n\r\nLove and pity drew her to the scene of suffering.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nThe British did not count the cost when they began the system of\r\ngathering in the Boer families, any more than they did when they began\r\ntheir \"walk over\" to Pretoria.\r\n\r\nNot only had they to support women and children for an indefinite\r\nperiod after the devastation of the farms, but the entire maintenance\r\nof the scattered Boer forces fell to their lot. During nearly two\r\nyears the Boers lived on the enemy, took their convoys, wrecked their\r\ntrains, helped themselves to horses, clothing, ammunition,\r\nprovisions--everything, in fact, that they required for the\r\ncontinuation of the war. To tell the truth, there was hardly a Mauser\r\nrifle to be found in the possession of the Boers at the end of the\r\nwar, they having destroyed the rifles with which they began the war,\r\nfor want of Mauser ammunition, and using only the Lee Metfords of the\r\nenemy.\r\n\r\nSickness broke out in the camps--scarlet fever, measles,\r\nwhooping-cough, enteric, pneumonia, and a thousand ills brought by\r\nexposure, overcrowding, underfeeding, and untold hardships.\r\n\r\nExpectant mothers, tender babes, the aged and infirm, torn from their\r\nhomes and herded together under conditions impossible to describe,\r\nexposed to the bitter inclemency of the South African winters and the\r\nscorching, germ-breeding heat of the summer, succumbed in their\r\nthousands, while daily, fresh people, ruddy, healthy, straight from\r\ntheir wholesome life on the farms, were brought into the infected\r\ncamps and left to face sickness and the imminent risk of death.\r\n\r\nOver twenty thousand dead women and children stand recorded in the\r\nbooks of the Burgher Camps Department to-day, as the victims of this\r\npolicy of concentration.\r\n\r\nOver twenty thousand women and children within two years! While the\r\ntotal number of fighting men lost on the Boer side, in battle and in\r\ncaptivity, amounts to four thousand throughout the entire war.\r\n\r\nThat this appalling result was wholly unlooked for, we do not doubt,\r\nbut nothing could be done to prevent the high mortality until many\r\nmonths after the worst period was over and only the strongest remained\r\nin the camps. It was indeed a case of the survival of the fittest.\r\n\r\nLet me briefly relate a tragic event of the war to show what the\r\npeople of the camps went through and what little cause for surprise\r\nthere is in the unprecedented death-rate.\r\n\r\nDuring the winter of 1901 a blizzard passed over the High Veld, the\r\nsite of so many Concentration Camps, in the Balmoral district, and\r\novertook a young lieutenant, W. St. Clare McLaren, of the First Argyll\r\nand Sutherland Highlanders (the friend and playmate of Hansie's\r\nchildhood's years at Heidelberg) with his men.\r\n\r\nThey were without shelter, their commissariat waggons being some way\r\nahead, and crept under a tarpaulin for protection from the fierce and\r\nbitterly cold blast.\r\n\r\nDuring that awful night Mr. McLaren took off his overcoat to cover up\r\nthe perishing body of his major, and when morning came he was found\r\ndead with five of his men, while around them, stiffly frozen, lay the\r\nbodies of six hundred mules.\r\n\r\nThe brave and heroic heart was stilled for ever, a young and noble\r\nlife was lost in performing an act of rare self-sacrifice; but far\r\naway in \"bonnie Scotland\" a widowed mother, smiling bravely through\r\nher tears, thanked God for the privilege of cherishing _such_ a\r\nmemory.\r\n\r\nSmall wonder to us then, when tragedies such as this were brought home\r\nto us, that in the camps the thin tents, torn to ribbons by the\r\nstorm, afforded no protection to the scantily-clothed, half-famished\r\ninmates!\r\n\r\nThat the death-rate was not higher during the winter months we owe\r\nentirely to the overcrowding of the tents, there being in Hansie's\r\nward at Irene many bell-tents, destined to accommodate six, holding\r\nfrom sixteen to twenty-three persons for many months. But what was an\r\nadvantage during the winter months became a source of great danger\r\nwhen the heat of summer came.\r\n\r\nTo return to our story.\r\n\r\nIt was Hansie's privilege--yes, privilege--to act as one of the\r\nvolunteer nurses from Pretoria during that very winter of 1901, and\r\nthough it is not my intention to record in this book the experience\r\nconnected with that period, I do not think it will be out of place\r\nhere to mention an important result of that sojourn at Irene.\r\n\r\nMrs. van Warmelo visited her daughter in the camp for the first time\r\non May 21st, and she was so much impressed by the misery she had\r\nwitnessed that, on her return to Pretoria that night, she could not\r\nsleep, but tossed from side to side, thinking of some way to save her\r\ncountry-women from suffering and death.\r\n\r\nSuddenly she was inspired by the thought, \"Write a petition to the\r\nConsuls!\"\r\n\r\nIt was 3 a.m. when she got out of bed to fetch her writing-materials\r\nfrom the dining-room, and she then and there wrote a passionate appeal\r\nfor help to the Diplomatic Corps in Pretoria.\r\n\r\nThe Consul-General for the Netherlands, Mr. Domela Nieuwenhuis, to\r\nwhom she took the petition the following morning, advised her to lay\r\nit before the Portuguese Consul, Mr. Cinatti, who, as the doyen of the\r\nDiplomatic Corps, would bring the matter before the other Consuls, if\r\nhe thought it advisable.\r\n\r\nMr. Cinatti, after reading the petition, said the matter could\r\ncertainly be taken up if Mrs. van Warmelo would get a few leading\r\nwomen in Pretoria to sign the petition.\r\n\r\nThis was done within a few days.\r\n\r\nUnder injunctions to observe the strictest secrecy, nine prominent\r\nBoer women signed the document, and it was once more laid before the\r\nsenior member of the Diplomatic Corps, who immediately called a\r\nmeeting of the Consuls, the result of which was that a copy of the\r\npetition, translated into French, was sent by the first mail to each\r\nof the ten different Powers they represented and also to Lord\r\nKitchener.\r\n\r\nGeneral Maxwell, soon after these were dispatched, asked Mr. Cinatti\r\nto see him at once in his office at Government Buildings, where, in a\r\nlong interview with him, he demanded from Mr. Cinatti the names of the\r\nnine signatories.\r\n\r\nMr. Cinatti said he was not at liberty to disclose them--that, in\r\nfact, they were not known (with the exception of the writer of the\r\npetition) to the other Consuls. General Maxwell then pressed him to\r\ngive him that name only, as he particularly wished to know who had\r\ndrawn up the petition.\r\n\r\nThis was refused, fortunately for Mrs. van Warmelo, for the penalty\r\nwould have been great.\r\n\r\nThe military authorities left no stone unturned afterwards to find out\r\nwho the women petitioners were, but without success, thanks to the\r\ngreat precautions taken by the Portuguese Consul.\r\n\r\nA full month passed and no reply came from Lord Kitchener.\r\n\r\nA second petition, more strongly worded than the first, was then drawn\r\nup, imploring the Consuls to intercede on behalf of the victims of the\r\nConcentration Camps and to inform the Powers represented by them, of\r\nthe death-rate which threatened the Boer nation with extinction.\r\n\r\nAgain a meeting of the Consuls was called, at which three of them were\r\nappointed to form a committee of investigation:\r\n\r\n Consul Cinatti, Consul-General for Portugal.\r\n Baron Pitner, Consul-General for Austria.\r\n Baron Ostmann, Consul-General for Germany.\r\n\r\nSome of the other members at the meeting were:\r\n\r\n M. Domela Nieuwenhuis, Consul-General for the Netherlands.\r\n M. Aubert, Consul-General for France.\r\n Mr. Gordon, Consul-General for United States.\r\n\r\nThe latter lived in Johannesburg, but attended all the meetings held\r\nin Pretoria in connection with the Concentration Camps.\r\n\r\nFrom General Maxwell the committee of investigation got permission to\r\ninspect the Camp at Irene, called the \"Model Camp,\" and with the\r\nstatistics obtained there, as well as the official statistics of all\r\nthe camps in the Transvaal, the Diplomatic Corps drew up a report,\r\nwhich went to prove that unless immediate steps were taken to arrest\r\nthe appalling death-rate, the Boer population in the camps would be\r\nextinct within a period of three years.\r\n\r\nCopies of this report were sent to the Military Governor and Lord\r\nKitchener, and to ten foreign Powers, with copies of the second\r\npetition.\r\n\r\nWhat diplomatic correspondence then passed between England and the\r\nforeign Powers we shall never know, for the utmost secrecy was\r\nobserved throughout; but what we do know is, that the famous\r\ncommission of inquiry, the \"Whitewash Committee,\" so-called by the\r\nPro-Boers in England, was very soon afterwards sent out. It consisted\r\nof six English ladies, and as a result of their investigations some of\r\nthe inland camps were removed to the coast, the rations increased,\r\nadditional medical and other comforts provided, and the general\r\ncondition of the camps improved to such an extent that after some\r\nmonths the death-rate decreased considerably, continuing to do so\r\nuntil it became nearly normal. But, as I have said before, not until\r\nover 20,000 women and children had been sacrificed as a direct result\r\nof being torn from their homes, exposed to the elements, and herded\r\ntogether under conditions which only the strongest could survive. It\r\nwould take too much space to insert copies of the petitions here, but\r\nthey are to be found in Hansie's Dutch book on the Irene Concentration\r\nCamp, published in Holland from her diary a year after the war.\r\n\r\nThe following statistics of what is known as \"Black October 1901\" are\r\ntaken from the Blue Books of England and will give the reader an idea\r\nof the number of camps in the Transvaal alone, the number of their\r\ninhabitants, and the full death-rate within the period of thirty-one\r\ndays:--\r\n\r\nTOTAL CENSUS OF DEATHS, ETC. ETC., OCCURRING IN THE CONCENTRATION\r\nCAMPS, TRANSVAAL ONLY, DURING THE MONTH OF OCTOBER 1901.\r\n\r\n Camps. Census. Deaths.\r\n 1. Barberton 1,907 12\r\n 2. Balmoral 2,580 70\r\n 3. Belfast 1,397 33\r\n 4. Heidelberg 2,173 41\r\n 5. Irene 3,972 101\r\n 6. Johannesburg 2,937 29\r\n 7. Klerksdorp 3,822 176\r\n 8. Krugersdorp 5,500 90\r\n 9. Middelburg 5,602 127\r\n10. Mafeking 4,783 410\r\n11. Nylstroom 1,819 52\r\n12. Pietersburg 3,598 41\r\n13. Potchefstroom 7,467 90\r\n14. Standerton 3,005 215\r\n15. Vereeniging 920 9\r\n16. Volksrust 5,280 47\r\n17. Vryburg 1,256 53\r\n ------ ------\r\n 58,018 1,596\r\n ------ ------\r\n\r\nDuring this terrible month there was a population of 112,619 in all\r\nthe Concentration Camps in South Africa. There were 3,156 deaths, i.e.\r\na death-rate of 28 per 1,000 per month. After \"Black October\" the\r\nmortality decreased steadily, as will be seen from the following\r\nfigures:\r\n\r\n Population. Deaths.\r\nNovember 1901 117,974 2,807\r\nDecember 1901 117,017 2,380\r\nJanuary 1902 114,376 1,805\r\nFebruary 1902 113,905 638\r\nMarch 1902 111,508 402\r\nApril 1902 112,733 298\r\nMay 1902 116,572 196\r\n\r\n\r\nCONSULAR REPORT ON THE CONCENTRATION CAMPS\r\n\r\nThe following is the Report on the Concentration Camps by the\r\nCommittee appointed by the Consular Corps of the Transvaal in response\r\nto a renewed appeal addressed to them by the Committee of Boer Women\r\nof Pretoria. The appeal was supported by three of the Consuls.\r\n\r\nThe Committee, which you have appointed to examine the situation in\r\nthe prisoners' camps, where Boer women are concentrated, though they\r\ncould not always obtain the required accurate information, have gained\r\nsufficient results to arrive at the conclusions as laid down in short\r\nin the following report:--\r\n\r\nI.--In order to formulate a clear idea of the situation the Committee\r\nhas laid down the following tables:\r\n\r\n (a) Showing the population and deaths in the Camps during April\r\n 1901, compiled from the official reports of the\r\n Inspector-General of the Camps.\r\n\r\n (b) The death-rate in the Camps of the Transvaal calculated from\r\n Table A, as well as from reports published in the Official\r\n Gazette, and according to other trustworthy information.\r\n\r\n (c) The death-rate in the Camps at Bloemfontein and Kroonstad,\r\n compiled from the notices in the Official Gazette of the\r\n Orange Free State.\r\n\r\n (d) Diseases and deaths according to Official Gazette.\r\n\r\nII.--Although the returns are not complete through absence of returns\r\nfor whole weeks in the official publications, we may arrive at the\r\nfollowing conclusions:\r\n\r\n 1. That the death-percentage in the Camps surpasses all\r\n hitherto-known proportions.\r\n\r\n 2. That the death-rate amounts to 14 times that of Pretoria,\r\n which has, according to Dr. Stroud, an average of 25 per\r\n thousand per year.\r\n\r\n 3. That the death-rate among the children confined to the Camps\r\n has increased to an alarming extent.\r\n\r\nThe Committee, basing their verdict partly on the repeated assertions\r\nof public opinion, on the communications of eye-witnesses, on the\r\nevidence given by certain witnesses in a case before the Military\r\nCourt at Pretoria, and finally on the personal observations of four\r\nmembers of the Consular Corps, to whom permission was granted to visit\r\nthe Camp at Irene, feel compelled to believe the principal causes of\r\ndiseases, carrying in their train such an abnormal death-rate, to be:\r\n\r\n 1. The difficulties and misery and privations to which the Boer\r\n families are subject after having been driven from their\r\n farms (their journeys often lasting about 20 days).\r\n\r\n 2. The insufficient quantity and frequently even bad quality of\r\n articles of food distributed among them. Often the food given\r\n to the children is in every respect inadequate to their\r\n wants.\r\n\r\n 3. The great fall in temperature during the night.\r\n\r\n 4. The insufficient protection against cold experienced in the\r\n tents by the healthy population, and all the more by the\r\n invalids.\r\n\r\n 5. The absence of clothing and blankets.\r\n\r\n 6. The insufficient providing for invalids and the inadequate\r\n state of medical stores.\r\n\r\n 7. The want of employees for the sanitary service in the Camps.\r\n\r\nIn view of the importance of the problem put before the Committee,\r\nthey have drawn up the above report and have sent copies of same to\r\nall the members of the Consular Corps.\r\n\r\n (Signed) S.S. PITNER.\r\n P. CINATTI.\r\n BN. OSTMANN.\r\n\r\n\r\nTABLE A\r\n\r\nDIRECT CAUSES OF THE DEATHS IN THE CAMPS OF THE IMPRISONED BOERS,\r\nCOMPOSED ACCORDING TO THE OFFICIAL NEWSPAPER ARTICLES TILL JULY\r\n10TH, 1901.\r\n\r\nDiseases. Number of Deaths.\r\n\r\nMeasles 123\r\nInflammation of the lungs 50\r\nDysentery 45\r\nInflammation of the bowels 35\r\nConsumption 33\r\nDiarrhoea 29\r\nBronchitis 27\r\nOld age 21\r\nInflammation of the stomach 15\r\nMalaria 18\r\nCramps 15\r\nMeasles and bronchitis 14\r\nTyphoid fever 14\r\nWeakness (Debility) 13\r\nHeart disease 12\r\nCroup 11\r\nOld age 11\r\nCramps and inflammation of the stomach 10\r\nMeasles and weakness 11\r\nLying-in fever and child-birth illness 5\r\nMeasles and inflammation of the lungs 4\r\nInflammation of the brain 4\r\nDiphtheria 4\r\nConsumption and measles 4\r\nDisease of the kidneys 6\r\nMeasles and diarrhoea 3\r\nMeasles and dysentery 3\r\nExhaustion 3\r\nInflammation of the bowels 3\r\nDebility 2\r\nHeart disease 4\r\nInflammation of the kidneys and debility,\r\n diseases through teething, asthma, influenza 6\r\nVarious 26\r\nNot classified 57\r\n ---\r\n 641\r\n\r\n\r\n _Summary and Percentage_\r\n\r\n Cases. Percentage.\r\n\r\nSimple and complicated measles 149 23\r\nDiseases of the respiratory organs 106 17\r\nDiseases of the bowels 105 17\r\nFever 67 10\r\nDebility, old age, consumption 75 12\r\nConvulsions 15 2\r\nDebility through old age 13 2\r\nHeart disease 12 2\r\nNot classified 57 9\r\nVarious 42 6\r\n ---\r\n 641 cases.\r\n\r\nTABLE B\r\n\r\nDEATH-RATE OF THE IMPRISONED BOERS IN THE CAMPS OF THE TRANSVAAL\r\nACCORDING TO OFFICIAL REPORTS AND TRUSTWORTHY INFORMATION.\r\n\r\n------------------------+-----------------------------------+\r\n | |\r\nCamps and Months. | Number of prisoners +\r\n | under 8 years. |\r\n | |\r\n +-----------+-----------+-----------+\r\n | | | |\r\n | Male. | Female. | Total. |\r\n------------------------+-----------+-----------+-----------+\r\nMiddelburg April | 666 | 626 | 1,292 |\r\nPotchefstroom April | 1,577 | 4,147 | 5,724 |\r\n May 1-17th | 1,605[B] | 4,207[B] | 5,812[C] |\r\nStanderton April | 584 | 553 | 1,137 |\r\nVolksrust April | 1,911 | 1,667 | 3,578 |\r\nIrene April | 2,134 | 1,589 | 3,703 |\r\n \" May | 2,364[B] | 1,738[B] | 4,102[C] |\r\n \" June | 2,593[B] | 2,007[B] | 4,600[C] |\r\nJohannesburg April | 1,705 | 1,465 | 3,170 |\r\n May 1-27th | 1,770[B] | 1,515[B] | 3,285[C] |\r\nAll Camps in | | | |\r\n Transvaal April | 11,098 | 12,714 | 23,612 |\r\n------------------------+-----------+-----------+-----------+\r\n\r\n------------------------+-----------------------------------------------+\r\n | Death Rate for the Period Indicated. |\r\nCamps and Months +------------------------+----------------------+\r\n | Under 8 years. | Per 1,000 per ann. |\r\n | | Under 8 years. |\r\n +-------+--------+-------+------+--------+------+\r\n | Male. | Female.| Total.| Male.| Female.| pr. |\r\n | | | | | | 1000 |\r\n------------------------+-------+--------+-------+------+--------+------+\r\nMiddelburg April | 5 | 4 | 9 | 86 | 77 | 83 |\r\nPotchefstroom April | 7[A] | 17[A] | 24 | 53 | 39 | 54 |\r\n May 1-17th | 8 | 17 | 25 | 106 | 86 | 94 |\r\nStanderton April | 5[D] | 20[D] | 25 | 104 | 372 | 255 |\r\nVolkstust April | 5 | 21 | 26 | 32 | 153 | 87 |\r\nIrene April | 14[A] | 35[A] | 49 | 79 | 270 | 161 |\r\n \" May | 19 | 49 | 68 | 58 | 331 | 200 |\r\n \" June | 38[A] | 97[C] |135[E] | 177 | 588 | 366 |\r\nJohannesburg April | 9 | 82 | 91 | 62 | 681 | 349 |\r\n May 1-27th | 12 | 67 | 79 | 94 | 598 | 325 |\r\nAll Camps in | | | | | | |\r\n Transvaal April | 69 | 171 |240 | 75 | 161 | 122 |\r\n------------------------+-------+--------+-------+------+--------+------+\r\n\r\nA: According to the proportion for the month of May.\r\nB: According to the proportion for the month of April.\r\nC: Average number from April till July 9th.\r\nD: According to the proportion for Volksrust.\r\nE: Statement by a nurse in service at Irene.\r\n\r\n\r\nWithout further comment the figures are borrowed from the official\r\nreports of the month of April or published in the _Official Gazette_.\r\n\r\n\r\nTABLE C\r\n\r\nRETURN OF DEATHS OF THE IMPRISONED BOERS IN THE CAMPS OF\r\nBLOEMFONTEIN AND KROONSTAD (ORANGE FREE STATE) ACCORDING TO THE\r\n\"OFFICIAL GAZETTE.\"\r\n\r\n--------------------------+---------------------------------+\r\n | Number of Deaths. |\r\n +-----+-------+----------+--------+\r\n | | | | |\r\n | | | | |\r\n | | | Children | |\r\n Camps. | Men.| Women.| under 8 | Total. |\r\n | | | yrs. | |\r\n--------------------------+-----+-------+----------+--------+\r\nBloemfontein from April | | | | |\r\n 2nd till July 2nd, 1901 | 33 | 80 | 198 | 311 |\r\n | | | | |\r\nKroonstad from April | | | | |\r\n 1st till May 16th, 1901 | 8 | 8 | 41 | 57 |\r\n | | | | |\r\nKroonstad from May 26th | | | | |\r\n till June 23rd, 1901 | 9 | 12 | 26 | 47 |\r\n--------------------------+-----+-------+----------+--------+\r\n\r\n--------------------------+----------------------------------------------+\r\n | Causes of Death. |\r\n--------------------------+----------+--------+----------+---------+-----+\r\n | | | | | |\r\n | | | | | |\r\n | |Lung and|Typhoid, | | |\r\n Camps. |Infectious|Heart |Dysentery,|Debility,| Per |\r\n |Disease. |Disease.|Diarrhoea.|Old Age. |1000.|\r\n--------------------------+----------+--------+----------+---------+-----+\r\nBloemfontein from April | | | | | |\r\n 2nd till July 2nd, 1901 | 101 | 99 | 107 | 4 | 309 |\r\n | | | | | |\r\nKroonstad from April | | | | | |\r\n 1st till May 16th, 1901 | 15 | 16 | 24 | 2 | 195 |\r\n | | | | | |\r\nKroonstad from May 26th | | | | | |\r\n till June 23rd, 1901 | 18 | 14 | 15 | 6 | 213 |\r\n--------------------------+----------+--------+----------+---------+-----+\r\n\r\nNumber of prisoners till June 1st: Bloemfontein, 4,339; Kroonstad, 2,638.\r\n\r\n\r\nTABLE D\r\n\r\nRETURNS OF DEATHS AND DISEASE OF THE IMPRISONED BOERS IN THE ENGLISH\r\nCAMPS OF THE TRANSVAAL DURING APRIL 1901.\r\n\r\n\r\n----------------+---------------------------------------+\r\n | Number of Prisoners. |\r\n +---------+---------+---------+---------+\r\n | | | | |\r\n | Men. | Women. |Children.| Total. |\r\n Camps. | | | | |\r\n----------------+---------+---------+---------+---------+\r\nBarberton | 38 | 151 | 236 | 425 |\r\nMiddelburg | 191 | 475 | 626 | 1,292 |\r\nIrene | 892 | 1,242 | 1,569 | 3,703 |\r\nJohannesburg | 505 | 1,200 | 1,465 | 3,170 |\r\nPotchefstroom | 322 | 1,255 | 4,147 | 5,724 |\r\nKlerksdorp | 120 | 350 | 521 | 991 |\r\nKrugersdorp | 234 | 381 | 473 | 1,088 |\r\nVereeniging | 175 | 312 | 346 | 833 |\r\nHeidelberg | 377 | 327 | 432 | 1,136 |\r\nStanderton | 271 | 313 | 653 | 1,237 |\r\nVolksrust | 452 | 1,459 | 1,667 | 3,578 |\r\nMafeking | 96 | 140 | 529 | 765 |\r\n +---------+---------+---------+---------+\r\nTotal | 3,673 | 7,605 | 12,664 | 23,942 |\r\n----------------+---------+---------+---------+---------+\r\n\r\n----------------+-----------------------------------------------------+\r\n | Number of Cases during April 1901. |\r\n +---------+---------+-----------+--------+------------+\r\n | | | | | Deaths |\r\n | Men. | Women. | Children. | Total. | during the |\r\n Camp. | | | | | Month. |\r\n----------------+---------+---------+-----------+--------+------------+\r\nBarberton | 6 | 26 | 27 | 59 | 4 |\r\nMiddelburg | 29 | 46 | 55 | 130 | 9 |\r\nIrene | 51 | 85 | 181 | 317 | 49 |\r\nJohannesburg | 3 | 26 | 110 | 139 | 90 |\r\nPotchefstroom | 3 | 30 | 29 | 62 | 24 |\r\nKlerksdorp | -- | 7 | 12 | 19 | 2 |\r\nKrugersdorp | -- | -- | 2 | 2 | -- |\r\nVereeniging | 5 | 8 | 11 | 24 | 5 |\r\nHeidelberg | 13 | 21 | 32 | 66 | 2 |\r\nStanderton | 10 | 17 | 20 | 47 | 35 |\r\nVolksrust | 14 | 19 | 33 | 66 | 26 |\r\nMafeking | 12 | 96 | 44 | 152 | 4 |\r\n +---------+---------+-----------+--------+------------+\r\nTotal | 146 | 381 | 556 | 1,083 | 250 |\r\n----------------+---------+---------+-----------+--------+------------+\r\n\r\n This table is compiled from an official report by an attendant of\r\n the Prisoner-Camps.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nCHAPTER XIII\r\n\r\nA CONSULAR VISIT TO IRENE CAMP\r\n\r\n\r\nThe story of the petitions, related in the previous chapter, had, as I\r\nhave said before, taken place during the time of Hansie's sojourn at\r\nIrene. She knew nothing about it at the time because, naturally, her\r\nmother's letters contained no hint of the agitation with the Consuls\r\nat Pretoria, and she was absorbed in her own \"agitations\" in the Camp,\r\nher stormy interviews with the Commandant, her hopeless struggles\r\nagainst disease and death.\r\n\r\nIf ever a Concentration Camp was mismanaged, Irene was, and the six\r\nvolunteer nurses, not being paid servants, but having taken up their\r\nwork for love and at no small sacrifice to themselves, left no stone\r\nunturned to bring about the necessary improvements.\r\n\r\nHow futile their poor little efforts were! How powerless they found\r\nthemselves against the tide of wilful misunderstanding, deliberate\r\nneglect, unpardonable mismanagement!\r\n\r\nThe number of deaths in the Camps increased every day, and Hansie,\r\nwiping the hoar-frost from her hair when she woke, half-frozen, in her\r\ntent, wondered how many of her little patients had been mercifully\r\nreleased by death that night.\r\n\r\nFor always, when she resumed her work, there were _childish_ forms\r\nstretched out in their last sleep.\r\n\r\nOne morning, when she found that there had been five deaths during the\r\nnight, in her ward alone, she took the train to Pretoria, straight to\r\nGeneral Maxwell's office.\r\n\r\n\"Come and see for yourself, General. The people are starving, and they\r\nlie on the cold ground with little or no covering. Fuel they have\r\nnothing to speak of, medical comforts are always out of stock----\"\r\n\r\nWith a heavy frown he asked:\r\n\r\n\"Why are these things not reported to me?\"\r\n\r\n\"I don't know,\" she answered miserably. \"We thought you knew. We can\r\ndo nothing with the Commandant----\"\r\n\r\nA great deal more was said on both sides, revelations, not to be\r\nrepeated here, made by the unhappy girl, and the Governor's\r\nsympathetic face grew stern with righteous indignation as she\r\nproceeded.\r\n\r\n\"I will investigate the matter for myself,\" he said. \"But you look\r\nill--why don't you come home and take a good rest?\"\r\n\r\n\"I am only sick with misery, General; but if you will speak to the\r\nCommandant and insist on better management in the Camp, we may still\r\nbe able to save a great many lives. There is no time to lose. If the\r\npeople are not provided with better food and warmer covering during\r\nthis intensely cold weather, the mortality will be something appalling\r\nnext month.\"\r\n\r\nA few days later, one beautifully crisp and clear Sunday morning,\r\nGeneral Maxwell and his A.D.C., Major Hoskins, rode over to Irene to\r\npay the Camp a surprise visit--and a \"surprise\" it must have been\r\nindeed, of no pleasant nature, to the Commandant, judging by his black\r\nlooks afterwards.\r\n\r\nThe General asked to see Miss van Warmelo and demanded to be shown\r\nthrough her ward, inspected her worst cases, visited the overcrowded\r\ntents. He seemed much impressed by the scenes he witnessed that day,\r\nand issued orders to the effect that all complaints from her ward were\r\nto be attended to promptly, and that a distribution of blankets and\r\nwarm clothing should be made immediately.\r\n\r\nThere were no blankets \"in stock\" the day before, but they were\r\nproduced on this occasion with remarkable alacrity.\r\n\r\nThe Governor inspected the foodstuffs and the small supply of medical\r\ncomforts (which was _always_, I may say here, kept in stock for\r\ninspection, and was not touched for the use of the inmates of the\r\nCamp, when the stores ran out).\r\n\r\nOn leaving, the Governor said to Hansie with marked emphasis:\r\n\r\n\"I shall be obliged if you will make your complaints _to me_ in\r\nfuture.\"\r\n\r\nHer ward was now in a somewhat better condition, and she was preparing\r\nto leave for home for a month's rest and recreation.\r\n\r\nAlthough there were never more than six volunteer nurses in the Camp\r\nat a time, there were quite as many again in Pretoria, waiting to take\r\nthe place of those obliged to go home on sick leave, and one of them\r\nwas immediately sent to take charge of Hansie's ward.\r\n\r\nTragic were the parting scenes witnessed in that ward next day, and,\r\nas Hansie laughingly extricated herself from the crowd, she promised\r\nto come back \"very soon,\" little thinking that she would be in their\r\nmidst again on the morrow.\r\n\r\nThe new nurse, an inexperienced girl, after having gone through the\r\nward once with Hansie, quietly fainted away.\r\n\r\n\"Shall I stay?\" Hansie asked her, when she had recovered.\r\n\r\n\"Oh no; I must get used to it. But what must I do when the babies are\r\ndying like that?\"\r\n\r\n\"You must pray to God to take them quickly. Very little can be done to\r\nsave them. Report your worst cases to the doctor regularly every day;\r\nthen, at least, the responsibility does not rest on your shoulders.\"\r\n\r\nIt was terrible, leaving them all in such a state.\r\n\r\nArrived at Harmony, Hansie found a note from Mr. Cinatti asking her to\r\ncome over to the Consulate immediately, because Dr. Kendal Franks, who\r\nwas visiting Irene next day, wished to see her before he left.\r\n\r\nShe went at once, and found a dinner-party in progress at the\r\nConsulate, the German Consul, Baron Ostmann, the Austrian Consul,\r\nBaron Pitner and his wife, one of the directors of the Dynamite\r\nCompany, and Dr. Kendal Franks. She was shown into a private study,\r\nwhere Mr. Cinatti joined her, in great excitement.\r\n\r\n\"Come in to dinner,\" he urged, but Hansie wished to see only Dr.\r\nFranks and said she would wait.\r\n\r\n\"Tell me,\" she said before Mr. Cinatti left her. \"Is there any danger\r\nfor my mother in connection with those petitions?\"\r\n\r\n\"Oh no, my dear, I think not. I hope not. The penalty\" (he said\r\n\"penality\") \"would be very great. You won't mention it to Dr. Franks,\r\nwill you?\"\r\n\r\n\"Of course not,\" Hansie laughed, and when he flew in a few moments\r\nlater, with a silver dish containing bon-bons, he whispered excitedly:\r\n\"He's coming now. Be on your guard! Take some of these, they contain\r\n_rum_.\" Dear Mr. Cinatti, how he enjoyed an atmosphere of danger! How\r\nhe revelled in secret adventures, and how he would have appreciated\r\nthe conspiracies at Harmony, at a later date, if it had been possible\r\nfor the van Warmelos to take him into their confidence!\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nThere was an atmosphere of serenity in the courtly, kindly presence of\r\nthe great doctor.\r\n\r\n\"Have you any objection to being cross-questioned?\" he asked,\r\nproducing a notebook and pencil.\r\n\r\n\"Not at all,\" she said.\r\n\r\n\"General Maxwell told me to make a point of visiting your ward. I am\r\nsorry you will not be there. Would it not be possible for you to go\r\nover to Irene with me to-morrow? I am leaving by the early train.\"\r\n\r\nHansie hesitated.\r\n\r\n\"I have no permit, and it is too late now.\"\r\n\r\n\"Oh, that is easily remedied.\"\r\n\r\nA messenger was at once dispatched to General Maxwell's house, almost\r\nnext door, and he soon returned with the necessary permits and a\r\ncordial note from the Governor, wishing them \"good luck.\"\r\n\r\nThat was an eventful day at Irene!\r\n\r\nThe anxious face of the \"new nurse\" broke into a beaming smile when\r\nshe saw Hansie on the scenes once more, the people crowding round her\r\nwith their questions. Why did she come back? Was she going to stay?\r\nDidn't she go to Pretoria yesterday? Who was that with her? etc.\r\nMothers pulled her aside and pointed in wordless grief to their tents,\r\nto what lay there in still repose since last night. Children clung to\r\nher skirts--\"We thought you had gone for good.\"\r\n\r\n\"The people love you,\" the great doctor said.\r\n\r\n\"But not as much as I love them,\" the answer quickly came.\r\n\r\nIt was arranged that Dr. Franks should go through the hospital, the\r\ndispensary, and the store-rooms in the morning, with the matron and\r\nthe doctors of the Camp, and that after lunch he should inspect some\r\nof the tents in Hansie's ward.\r\n\r\nThis arrangement suited her to perfection, for she wished, after she\r\nhad greeted her people in the Camp, to write an important letter,\r\ndestined for the north of Holland, for which she had had neither time\r\nnor opportunity for many weeks.\r\n\r\nThe doctor's \"hour or two in the Camp\" lengthened to three, very\r\nnearly four, and during the greater part of this time Hansie, sitting\r\nin the tent which had been hers, wrote, without lifting her head.\r\n\r\n\"How shall I get this away? The censor must not set eyes on _this_,\"\r\nshe mused as she folded the closely written sheets.\r\n\r\nShe put the envelope into her handbag, and just then \"the girls\"\r\ntrooped in from the Camp. Surprised greetings were exchanged and\r\nexplanations made as they all went into the big marquee where the\r\nmidday meal was being served.\r\n\r\nThe doctor was very hot and tired after his long visit of inspection,\r\nbut highly satisfied with the number of notes he had made, and the\r\nmeal passed off in animated conversation. When it was over, Dr. Franks\r\nand Hansie went through the long rows of tents in her ward--her\r\n\"prize\" tents she called them--and the doctor seemed much struck by\r\nthe extreme poverty and misery of the inmates. In one tent two little\r\nboys were dying, and the distracted mother, when she heard the magic\r\nword \"doctor,\" implored him to save them. She was a widow and these\r\nchildren were all she had. He knelt beside them and examined them with\r\nhis strong and gentle hands, shaking his head. There was no hope.\r\n\r\n\"Your ward is in a shocking state. But things were not as bad in the\r\ndispensary and store-rooms as you made out last night,\" he said to her\r\non their way to the station.\r\n\r\nThere was a touch of reproof in the kind voice.\r\n\r\n\"You saw the small supply which is always kept for inspection,\r\ndoctor,\" she answered. \"It is always there and is not touched when the\r\nstores run out.\"\r\n\r\nHis face wore a troubled look, but he said no more.\r\n\r\nWhen they parted at the station he said he would report on his visit,\r\nto the Governor, and Hansie laughingly replied that she would report\r\ntoo.\r\n\r\n\"For you are a Briton and I am a Boer. General Maxwell must have _two_\r\nreports.\"\r\n\r\nShe found the Governor next day in the friendliest of moods and\r\nevidently satisfied when she thanked him for the improvements in her\r\nward.\r\n\r\nHe told her that the Commandant, who had been at Irene when first she\r\ncame there, was going round the country to inspect all the Camps and\r\nto write reports for him. Seeing the look of intense dissatisfaction\r\non her face, he asked whether she did not think that Commandant\r\n----would do it well.\r\n\r\n\"No, indeed,\" she replied. \"I think I would do it a great deal better.\r\nWill you let _me_ go round to all the Camps also, to write reports for\r\nyou?\"\r\n\r\nShe spoke in jest, but to her surprise the Governor immediately\r\nentered into the idea, saying that it would be a great help to him to\r\nknow that he could rely on getting truthful reports.\r\n\r\n\"You must come and see me later,\" he continued. \"I advise you to take\r\na few weeks' rest before you begin this tour. Is there anything else I\r\ncan do for you now, or, I should say, for your people, for I have done\r\nnothing for you.\"\r\n\r\n\"Not just now, thank you, General; but I will let you know when I am\r\nable to go round to the Camps, and when I take up my work again at\r\nIrene.\"\r\n\r\nSuddenly she remembered the unposted letter in her handbag.\r\n\r\n\"But there _is_ something else----\" She hesitated.\r\n\r\n\"I have a private letter for Holland here. It contains no word about\r\nthe war, but I cannot let it pass through the hands of the censor. May\r\nI ask you to send it for me? I can assure you----\"\r\n\r\n\"With pleasure,\" he broke in. \"I will see that it is dispatched\r\nsafely.\"\r\n\r\n\"Thank you very much. Shall I tell you what it is about?\"\r\n\r\n\"Oh no; I trust you.\"\r\n\r\nHe handed a piece of sealing-wax to her.\r\n\r\n\"What is this for?\" she asked.\r\n\r\n\"To seal the letter,\" he replied; but she quickly answered, with a\r\nsmile:\r\n\r\n\"Oh no; _I trust you_.\"\r\n\r\nHe gave her a long official-looking envelope, into which she placed\r\nher letter, and, when she had readdressed it, he closed it with the\r\nstamp of the Military Governor's office.\r\n\r\nNow, this little scene could not have taken place a few months, or\r\neven a few weeks, later, but at the time Hansie had no secrets to\r\nconceal from the Governor, and she had no reason to feel the slightest\r\nqualm in asking him to do her this personal favour.\r\n\r\nBut the time was soon to come, however, when she remembered the\r\nincident of the uncensored letter with no small degree of\r\ndiscomfort--when she found herself in the midst of conspiracies\r\nagainst the enemy, conspiracies of a far more serious nature than the\r\nharmless \"smuggling\" hitherto carried on by her and her mother.\r\n\r\n\"He would never believe that that letter contained no war news, if he\r\nwere to find out what we are doing now,\" she thought then. \"This kind\r\nof thing must cease--no more favours from the enemy, and, if I can\r\nhelp it, no more interviews with the Governor. But there is this tour\r\nof inspection--no getting out of that, and I shall have to see a great\r\ndeal of him. Well, as far as the Camps are concerned, I can always\r\n'play the game' to him. That is a thing apart.\"\r\n\r\nA few days after this interview with the Governor, Mr. Cinatti called\r\nat Harmony with the interesting news that General Maxwell had invited\r\nthe entire Diplomatic Corps to spend a day with him at Irene.\r\n\r\n\"We are going to-morrow [July 13th],\" he said. \"Now, why are you not\r\nthere?\" looking dolefully at Hansie.\r\n\r\n\"Oh, why did I leave my little round tent at Irene Camp?\" she wailed.\r\n\"But I will give you a letter for Miss Findlay, Mr. Cinatti. She knows\r\nall my worst cases and she has many quite as bad in her ward. Ask to\r\nsee her, and whatever you do, don't forget to ask for Dr. Neethling.\"\r\n\r\nDr. Neethling was the only Dutch doctor in the Camp, and he was seldom\r\nin evidence when there was any question of inspection. That Consular\r\nvisit to Irene must have been quite an event. General Maxwell, Major\r\nHoskins, and all the Consuls in a body went through the Camp and\r\nhospital, and made the usual inspection of foodstuffs and \"medical\r\ncomforts.\"\r\n\r\nThey were satisfied that great improvements had been made, but they\r\ndid not see the volunteer nurses or Dr. Neethling, although Mr.\r\nCinatti asked three or four times for Miss Findlay and all the Consuls\r\nasked to see Dr. Neethling. These good people were not forthcoming,\r\nand there was so very much to see that it was time for the sumptuous\r\nlunch, with which General Maxwell treated the Consuls at the Railway\r\nStation, before further questions could be asked.\r\n\r\nOn the return journey General Maxwell inquired of Mr. Cinatti what he\r\nthought of the Camps, to which Mr. Cinatti replied, with that quaint\r\nmixture of pathos and humour which characterised him:\r\n\r\n\"General, your tiffin was a beauty, but your Camp--was very sad!\"\r\n\r\nMrs. van Warmelo laughed when Hansie repeated these words to her and\r\nsaid:\r\n\r\n\"Oh, you have no idea how funny he is,\" and then she related the\r\nfollowing incident to her daughter with great relish:\r\n\r\nAfter she had drawn up the first petition, she was out driving one\r\nafternoon with Mrs. General Joubert in the latter's carriage, going\r\nfrom house to house to get the signatures to the petition, and on the\r\nSunnyside bridge they found the three inseparable Consuls, Aubert,\r\nCinatti, and Nieuwenhuis, out for their daily constitutional, leaning\r\nover the railings and looking down into the stream below. Approaching\r\nthe bridge from the opposite direction were Lord Kitchener and his\r\nA.D.C. on horseback, and the three parties met, as luck would have it,\r\nin the centre of the bridge.\r\n\r\n\"The Consuls took off their hats in greeting to the ladies in the\r\ncarriage, and then turned in salutation to Lord Kitchener, but I wish\r\nyou could have seen the look Mr. Cinatti gave me, Hansie, as he\r\nglanced from the document in my hands to Lord Kitchener's retreating\r\nform. It spoke volumes, and I had the greatest difficulty in\r\npreserving my gravity.\"\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nCHAPTER XIV\r\n\r\nNEW DEVELOPMENTS\r\n\r\n\r\nIt was in the winter of 1901, while Hansie was at the Irene\r\nConcentration Camp, as one of six volunteer nurses from Pretoria, that\r\nMrs. van Warmelo began her first adventures with the spies, and it has\r\nalways been a source of keen regret to Hansie that she was not in\r\nPretoria at the time. But one cannot have everything, and the\r\nknowledge she gained in the Camp was more valuable to her than any\r\nother experience she went through during the war.\r\n\r\nI have merely touched on the Concentration Camps in the previous\r\nchapter, for obvious reasons, and propose to entirely omit the events\r\nof the two months Hansie spent in the Irene Camp.\r\n\r\nAs the six volunteer nurses were soon after expelled from the Camp by\r\nthe military authorities, there was, fortunately for her, no\r\nopportunity of returning to her labour of love. Other duties awaited\r\nher at home, however, and by degrees she came into full possession of\r\nthe facts connected with her mother's experiences during those months.\r\n\r\nAmongst the men caught in Pretoria on June 5th, 1900, when the British\r\nfirst entered the capital, were two heroes of this book, Mr. J. Naudé\r\nand W.J. Botha.\r\n\r\nThese men were destined, through their indecision in allowing\r\nthemselves to be caught like rats in a trap, to fulfil with honour a\r\nrôle of great importance in the history of the war--a rôle unknown to\r\nthe world, and without which this book would probably not have been\r\nwritten. Mr. Naudé--who, by the way, was well known in town as beadle\r\nof the Dutch Reformed Church on Church Square immediately opposite the\r\nGovernment Buildings--had, after the first few days of uncertainty and\r\nremorse, no intention whatever of remaining long in durance vile.\r\n\r\nWith a few comrades in the same predicament as himself, amongst whom\r\nwere Willem Botha and G. Els, he laid his plans for a speedy escape,\r\nand for the purpose of spying more effectually he used the tower of\r\nthe sacred edifice for which he was responsible, as a point of vantage\r\nnot only suitable but safe. With a strong telescope he took his\r\nobservations, unobserved himself, from the highest point of the tower,\r\nwith the result that a certain route was chosen as offering the best\r\nfacilities for a safe exit from the town.\r\n\r\nMr. Botha should have accompanied him on this, his first enterprise;\r\nbut because of Mr. Botha's physical weakness, he having been struck by\r\nlightning at Pieter's Heights while on commando, and being subject to\r\nsevere headaches and unable to walk far at times, it was decided that\r\nhe should wait in town until Mr. Naudé could come back from commando,\r\nbringing with him a horse for the use of his friend. It was as well\r\nthat Mr. Botha did not expose himself to the hardships and perils of\r\nthat first flight from the capital, for though Mr. Naudé, wearing an\r\nEnglish officer's uniform and carrying his private clothes in a\r\nknapsack, escaped with the greatest ease and safety, he and his\r\ncompanion roamed about the veld for three days and nights without\r\nfinding a trace of the Boer commandos which they were so eager to\r\njoin.\r\n\r\n [Illustration: CAPTAIN NAUDÉ.]\r\n\r\nThey therefore ventured a return to their homes in Pretoria and\r\naccomplished this successfully at dead of night, except for a small\r\nadventure through having been delayed too long on their homeward\r\njourney, on account of which they reached the first outpost just as\r\nday was breaking.\r\n\r\nNaudé's companion, in great anxiety, suggested making a _détour_, but\r\nMr. Naudé, with the presence of mind which characterised his every\r\naction, answered firmly:\r\n\r\n\"No; we must go straight ahead. Perhaps the watch has already caught a\r\nglimpse of us, and any indecision on our part would be fatal.\"\r\n\r\nSeeing some clothing hanging on a line to dry near a Kaffir or coolie\r\nhut, Mr. Naudé annexed one or two garments, and, quickly changing his\r\nuniform for the civilian clothes he had with him, he made a bundle of\r\nhis knapsack, uniform, and helmet, tying them up in the stolen\r\narticles. With this bundle under his arm and a handkerchief tied over\r\nhis head, he and his companion lurched uncertainly over the veld\r\ntowards the watch, after first having taken a draught from their\r\nspirit-flask.\r\n\r\n\"Halt! who goes there?\"\r\n\r\nThey halted, smiling at him in an imbecile manner.\r\n\r\n\"Show me your residential passes.\"\r\n\r\nHis comrade fumbled in his pockets and produced his, but Mr. Naudé\r\nfumbled in vain. He had no pass.\r\n\r\nHe shook his head. His smile became more inane. He muttered hoarsely:\r\n\r\n\"Can't find it. Must have lost it last night. We have been on the\r\nbooze, old man.\"\r\n\r\n\"I can see _that_,\" the watch replied and signed to them to pass on.\r\n\r\nThat their reappearance caused a stir amongst their relatives and\r\nfriends can easily be understood, and it was found necessary to keep\r\nthem in hiding. The beadle had been missed from his post, and it was\r\nan open secret among his friends and certainly not unknown to the\r\nenemy, that he had made a dash for liberty. Under the circumstances he\r\ncould not remain in Pretoria long, and after a few days of more spying\r\nfrom the church tower he made a second attempt in a different\r\ndirection, with a comrade of the name of Coetzee, the first man having\r\nhad enough of the dangerous game. This time their enterprise was\r\ncrowned with success, and they were able to join a Boer commando under\r\nGeneral Louis Botha, but not before they had gone through an adventure\r\nwhich might have cost them their lives.\r\n\r\nThey were captured by the Boers under Acting Commandant Badenhorst and\r\ndetained as British spies, all protestations of their innocence\r\nproving futile, until Mr. Naudé informed the Commandant that he had\r\nwith him dispatches for General Botha.\r\n\r\nCommandant Badenhorst demanded to see them.\r\n\r\nHe refused, saying that they were private documents for the\r\nCommandant-General, and that he was not at liberty to deliver them to\r\nany one else.\r\n\r\nHis word was accepted, and he was sent to the High Veld with a guard\r\nof men on foot to escort him to the General.\r\n\r\nThe want of horses proved to be a serious drawback and hardship to\r\nthese men, so they determined to provide themselves with horses, of\r\nthe very best, and appointed Mr. Naudé as their leader.\r\n\r\nInstead of proceeding straight to the High Veld, these enterprising\r\nand resourceful young fellows retraced their steps to the vicinity of\r\nthe Pretoria West Station, where Mr. Naudé knew that the enemy kept a\r\nnumber of magnificent horses for the use of officers only.\r\n\r\nWith infinite caution they approached the spot, keeping under cover\r\nuntil they were well within rifle-range of the men on guard. The\r\nmovements of the latter were stealthily watched, and it was observed\r\nthat the guard, consisting of two men, well armed, walked up and down\r\nbefore the stables in which the horses were kept. Meeting at a certain\r\npoint, they turned abruptly and retraced their steps in the opposite\r\ndirection, until they reached the limit of their beat and turned\r\nagain.\r\n\r\nMr. Naudé's plans were quickly made, and his commands given below his\r\nbreath.\r\n\r\nThere was to be no bloodshed, he said. The thing could easily be done\r\nwithout, if his instructions were well carried out.\r\n\r\nTwo of the men were ordered to level their guns at one of the guard\r\nwhen he had nearly reached the point farthest from his comrade, while\r\nthe others stormed the stables.\r\n\r\nIt was the work of a few moments.\r\n\r\nThe first thing the unfortunate guard knew was that he was looking\r\nstraight into the barrels of two guns.\r\n\r\nNot a word was said on either side.\r\n\r\nThose glittering rifles, held by unseen, steady hands, flashed the\r\nunspoken challenge, \"Give the alarm, and you are a dead man.\"\r\n\r\nThe guard stood still as if rooted to the spot.\r\n\r\nSwiftly and silently Mr. Naudé, with his few men, approached and\r\nentered the stables, cut loose the halters of the animals, and\r\nstampeded from the place.\r\n\r\nAnd yet the guard stood still, transfixed by the unerring aim of those\r\ntwo deadly implements.\r\n\r\nA moment more and every man was provided with a steed, another moment\r\nand they tore across the veld in mad, exultant flight, while behind\r\nthem the shots rang out and the bullets fell beside them in the grass.\r\n\r\nEleven horses in all! Noble thoroughbreds, well trained and sensitive\r\nto voice and touch.\r\n\r\nNo fear of cruel treatment from your captors, beautiful steeds! The\r\nlife you are entering upon may be full of hardship for you, but it\r\nwill be free and wild, and you will be tended with all care and\r\ngentleness. These men are brave and strong, and it is only the\r\ncowardly and weak who would inflict on you one single unnecessary\r\npain.\r\n\r\nServe your new masters well.\r\n\r\nBe swift and sure when Death is on their track.\r\n\r\nGod only knows what the future holds for them of suffering and woe.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nNot on foot, but riding like lords, these men reached General Botha's\r\nforce, and the two men Naudé and Coetzee, being among the only\r\nburghers on commando familiar with the route through the British\r\nlines, were thereafter employed by minor officers to travel backwards\r\nand forwards to the capital. At first their work consisted only of\r\nhelping other burghers to escape, but as time went on their duties\r\nbecame more complicated and hazardous. There were countless\r\ncommissions to fulfil and information to be obtained on every\r\nimaginable question.\r\n\r\nThe need of a body of organised men in town began to be felt more\r\nstrongly in the field, and it was Captain Naudé who introduced the\r\nsystem of employing a set of reliable burghers as spies in the heart\r\nof the enemy.\r\n\r\nFor this purpose he once again went to Pretoria with the list of names\r\nof the men he wished to interview.\r\n\r\nMr. Botha was the first he approached, and the former was only half\r\npleased when he heard that, instead of the escape from British martial\r\nlaw, for which he had been keeping himself in readiness so long, he\r\nwas commanded to remain in Pretoria as the head of a body of Secret\r\nService men.\r\n\r\nHe protested vehemently, but his objections were overruled by the\r\nargument brought forward by Naudé, a consideration for the state of\r\nhis health. This was certainly a point which carried weight. He\r\nconsented, and the names of the other men to be appointed as his\r\nco-operators were submitted to him for approval:\r\n\r\nC.P. Hattingh, G. Els, W. Bosch, and J. Gillyland, a body of five men,\r\nwhich we shall know in future by the name of \"the Secret Committee.\"\r\n\r\nThe Secret Service of the Boers was now well established, and could\r\nnot have been entrusted into hands more capable, more undaunted, or\r\nmore faithful.\r\n\r\nCaptain Naudé had in the meantime earned distinction for himself as\r\nthe bravest and most enterprising emissary employed in the field. He\r\nwas placed by General Botha at the head of a corps of scouts,\r\nincluding the men who had captured the British remounts, and it is on\r\nthe foundation of his adventures as captain of this body of men that\r\nthis story is built.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nWe now turn to Mr. Botha and his first visit to Harmony.\r\n\r\nIt seems that Mrs. van Warmelo was one morning, during her daughter's\r\nabsence at Irene, surprised by the appearance of a stranger at her\r\nhouse.\r\n\r\nHe introduced himself as Mr. Willem Botha and handed a card to Mrs.\r\nvan Warmelo, the card of her friend Mrs. Pieter Maritz Botha, on which\r\nwere written the following words, \"You may trust the bearer as you\r\nwould myself.\"\r\n\r\nNo other introduction was necessary.\r\n\r\nMrs. P.M. Botha, sister of Sir David Graaf, whose striking personality\r\nand unique experiences throughout the war would alone fill a big book,\r\nwas one of Mrs. van Warmelo's dearest friends.\r\n\r\nAny one coming from her to Harmony could depend upon a hearty welcome.\r\n\r\nMrs. van Warmelo looked at her visitor with her keen and searching\r\neyes.\r\n\r\nHe was short of stature and carried a little walking-stick for\r\nsupport, and his eyes, when they looked into yours, were shrewd,\r\nhumorous, and true as steel.\r\n\r\nA _great_ little man he was, and is to-day, God bless him!\r\n\r\nI stretch out my hands to him across these pages and clasp his in the\r\nsympathy and understanding of what we went through together. True as\r\nsteel! Yes, that describes him well, for in all his dealings he was a\r\nnoble friend, an honourable foe.\r\n\r\nFate had been hard on him in leaving him a helpless prisoner in the\r\nhands of his enemies when his whole heart was with his brothers in the\r\nfield, but Providence was kind in giving him the power and opportunity\r\nhe required for serving land and people under circumstances as unique\r\nas they were dangerous and difficult.\r\n\r\nFrom him Mrs. van Warmelo learnt of the existence of the Secret\r\nCommittee.\r\n\r\nNo names were mentioned to her, but the general outline of their work\r\nwas described, and her assistance was invited in that branch of the\r\nwork which included the sending of dispatches to the President.\r\n\r\nHer fame as an exceedingly clever \"smuggler\" had evidently spread, and\r\nif the plan of the White Envelope had been known to her visitor at the\r\ntime, he would no doubt have been even more satisfied with the result\r\nof the visit.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nThat the Committee in Pretoria formed only a very small part of the\r\nscheme of espionage all over South Africa I am well aware, but it is\r\nwith this particular Committee that we have to do, and a detailed\r\naccount of the work carried out by them will give the reader some idea\r\nof the system generally employed by the Boers.\r\n\r\nNot with the foolhardy young spy who came into the capital to buy a\r\npound of sweets or a box of cigarettes, not with the reckless youth\r\nwho came in to spend a few days with his friend and to escort his\r\nsweetheart to church on Sunday night, thereby increasing the\r\ndifficulties and danger of detection for his more earnest\r\nfellow-countrymen, are we concerned in this book.\r\n\r\nThese escapades were of such frequent occurrence, and were so well\r\nknown to many people in town, that it would have been dangerous in the\r\nextreme to use them for serious purposes.\r\n\r\nFrom the earliest days of the occupation Pretoria was always full of\r\nspies, and the English were aware of it, but, do what they would, they\r\ncould not prevent it.\r\n\r\nAlthough we always knew how things were going in the field, I do not\r\nfor a moment believe that the accounts of British reverses brought\r\nunofficially in to town by the spies were always reliable, nor do I\r\nsanction the reckless coming and going of irresponsible men. Alas, no!\r\ntoo bitter have been the experiences of disastrous results brought\r\nabout by their thoughtlessness.\r\n\r\nThe van Warmelos were warned from the beginning against having\r\ndealings with them if they really wished to be of service to their\r\npeople, to which warning they owed their safety and the privilege of\r\nbeing able to help their countrymen till the end of the war. General\r\nEmmet, as prisoner in the Rest Camp, also sent a warning, saying that\r\nGeneral Botha had instructed him to tell Mrs. van Warmelo that her\r\nname was known on commando.\r\n\r\nAs time went on, Pretoria was being shut in more completely every day.\r\nBlockhouses rose on every side; on the hills which lie around the\r\ntown searchlights played from commanding positions over many miles of\r\ncountry, making darkest night as clear as noonday; barbed-wire fences\r\nenclosed the entire capital, and outposts were on guard night and\r\nday--with no avail!\r\n\r\nThe spies glided in and out like serpents in the night, and some idea\r\nof the hardships and perils they went through in order to achieve\r\ntheir purpose will be given in this true story of the great Boer war,\r\nsome idea of the dangers to which their assistants in town were\r\nexposed, and the part played by women and girls in the scheme of\r\nespionage.\r\n\r\nI believe the events related here to be tame in comparison with some\r\nof the risks incurred and heroism displayed by other Boer women all\r\nover South Africa, but we must confine ourselves strictly to Hansie's\r\ndiary, as it was written from day to day, before time could obliterate\r\nthe smallest detail from her memory.\r\n\r\nHansie's diary with all the bitterness left out; Hansie's diary\r\nwithout its sighs and tears, its ever-changing moods, and deep\r\nemotions; Hansie's diary, shorn of all that makes it human, natural,\r\nand real,--surely what is left of it must be tame and totally unworthy\r\nof the original!\r\n\r\nAnd yet it needs must be!\r\n\r\nThis book must be a calm, dispassionate review of the past, a\r\ntemperate recital of historical events as they took place, and, as\r\nfacts speak largely for themselves, I leave the details to be filled\r\nin by the reader's imagination.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nCHAPTER XV\r\n\r\nTHE FORMATION OF THE NATIONAL SCOUTS CORPS\r\n\r\n\r\nIf what theosophists say be true, that thoughts are living forces,\r\nthen it seems to me that the subtle power and influence of a national\r\nmaxim must be far-reaching and powerful in its effect on the national\r\nmind.\r\n\r\nOf this we had ample proof as the war proceeded.\r\n\r\nWith \"Might is right\" working ceaselessly in a hundred thousand\r\nbrains, some people in South Africa and England began to believe that\r\nmight _was_ right, and with \"All is fair in love and war\" held up by\r\nthe united force of a million minds, is it to be wondered at that\r\nanything and everything seemed justified under martial law? And yet,\r\nwhen we come to think of it, how pernicious and demoralising the\r\neffect of such maxims must be on the public in general and the\r\nuneducated mind in particular. Under its influence a nation may\r\nbecome, in times of war, dishonourable and treacherous, may be dragged\r\nfrom one abyss of degradation to another, deeper than the last, until\r\nall self-respect is gone and the voice of conscience is silenced for\r\never.\r\n\r\nWell may we guard against this growing evil in South Africa! Well may\r\nwe keep our national mottoes pure!\r\n\r\nI do believe that the Dutch South African saying, \"Geduld en moed,\r\nalles sal reg kom\" (\"Patience and courage, everything will right\r\nitself\"), is responsible to a great extent for the South African\r\nindifference to duty. It was first spoken by President Brand, of the\r\nOrange Free State, no doubt in all thoughtlessness of what it might\r\nlead to, for no one could have foreseen that the first part, \"Geduld\r\nen moed,\" would fall into disuse and be forgotten, because these good\r\nqualities do not come easily to men, and the second, \"Alles sal reg\r\nkom,\" would be made an excuse for a sort of lazy optimism, by which\r\nanything could be justified which comes easiest to us at the moment.\r\n\r\n\"Alles sal reg kom,\" yes, but not if we shirk our responsibilities.\r\n\"Alles sal reg kom\" if we are true, staunch, and honourable, if with\r\nperseverance and patient endurance we fulfil our duty when its demands\r\nupon us are most exacting and difficult.\r\n\r\nRightly interpreted, this popular saying would have been a strong\r\nsupport to the Boers at a time when they were assailed by the fiercest\r\ntemptation, and this brings us to the subject with which this short\r\nchapter deals.\r\n\r\nWe were frequently told during the war that it was Lord Kitchener's\r\npolicy to procure the services of as many members of the opposing\r\nforces as could be persuaded, for material considerations, to take up\r\narms against their fellow countrymen, a policy which he had often\r\nemployed in other countries and to which he owed much of his success.\r\nThis may or may not have been the case in previous wars in which he\r\nhad taken a leading part, but in the great South African war this\r\npolicy was crowned with undoubted success, in the formation of the\r\nNational Scouts Corps.\r\n\r\nThe thought has occurred to me that the words \"National Scout\" may\r\nconvey nothing to my English reader.\r\n\r\nWould to God that it conveyed nothing to us either!\r\n\r\nIt will be necessary to explain. The first downward step to becoming a\r\nNational Scout was the voluntary surrendering of arms to the enemy, to\r\nbecome a \"handsupper,\" as the burghers were called, who laid down\r\ntheir arms while the Boer leaders were still in the field.\r\n\r\nThere were three kinds of handsuppers; first, men who, through a\r\nmistaken sense of duty, surrendered themselves to the enemy, in order\r\nto bring the war to a speedy termination and so to save the women and\r\nchildren from further suffering; second, the men who, wearied of the\r\nstrife, became hopeless and despondent and only longed for peace,\r\nindifferent as to who should prove to be the victor in the field; and\r\nthird, the men who, through their lust for gain, fell an easy prey to\r\nthe temptations offered them in gold and spoil by the enemy,\r\nsurrendering their trusty Mausers in exchange for the Lee Metfords of\r\nthe enemy, with whom they thereafter stood, side by side, in infernal\r\nwarfare against kith and kin. To the latter class of handsuppers the\r\nNational Scouts, better known throughout the war as \"Judas-Boers,\"\r\nbelonged. In most cases they were first employed by the enemy as\r\n\"Cattle Rangers,\" to gather in the livestock from the farms and\r\nprotect them from recapture by the Boer commandos. The next step\r\ndownwards followed as a matter of course, active service against their\r\nbrother burghers.\r\n\r\nA few months after the occupation of Pretoria the first public meeting\r\nwas held in the Rex Bar, now known as the Lyceum Theatre, on Church\r\nSquare (\"under the Oaks\"), for the purpose of recruiting National\r\nScouts from the ranks of the burghers in Pretoria. Many prominent men\r\nattended this meeting, which, it will be remembered, was presided over\r\nby a distinguished British officer. These men went, not to become\r\nmembers of the National Scouts Corps, but to ask a certain question\r\nwhen the right moment arrived--and then they rose with one accord.\r\n\"What about our oath of neutrality?\" They were told that the oath of\r\nneutrality need not disturb any one who wished to join the ranks of\r\nthe enemy; it would be nullified by the oath of allegiance, and was\r\ndeclared to be \"a mere formality.\" The noblest motives for uniting\r\ntheir strength to that of the enemy, in the endeavour \"to restore\r\npeace to the land,\" were laid before the burghers of the Transvaal.\r\nNot only would the helpless inmates of the Concentration Camps be\r\nspared further suffering, but the deplorable loss of life of men on\r\nboth sides in the field would cease.\r\n\r\nThen too, the pay was a consideration not to be despised in days of so\r\nmuch hardship and privation. Large sums were paid for the capture of\r\neach brother burgher, and so liberal a share in the plunder brought\r\nhome by them that there are, at the present time, well-to-do farmers,\r\npoor before the war, now flourishing and well known in their districts\r\nas successful \"pocket patriots.\"[1]\r\n\r\nThe National Scouts became a strong and well-organised body of men,\r\nversed in all the arts of Boer warfare, familiar with the country--a\r\ndangerous and treacherous addition to the difficulties with which the\r\nfaithful burghers were beset.\r\n\r\nIt must be clearly understood that there can be no comparison between\r\nthe act of the men who, when condemned to death, saved themselves by\r\nturning King's evidence and the treachery of the men who, voluntarily\r\nand for greed of gold, took up arms against their fellow-countrymen.\r\nUnder the impulse of fear men may be guilty of a crime for which they\r\nmay have to do penance with lifelong remorse, and for these we may\r\nfeel pity, even if we do not understand and cannot enter into the\r\ncowardly weakness by which they were driven to betray their comrades.\r\nBut in the case of the National Scouts there were no extenuating\r\ncircumstances except perhaps that the greater responsibility rested on\r\nthe men who paid in dross for the dishonour of their fellow-creatures.\r\n\r\nIt was the public recruiting of National Scouts from amongst the\r\nburghers who had taken the oath of neutrality that first induced the\r\nBoers who remained true to their cause to use their influence in\r\nbringing the war to an end. But they determined to assist their\r\nfellow-countrymen, not the enemy, and when the call came from the\r\nfield they were found ready to depart for active service or willing to\r\ndevote themselves to secret service in the towns, as the case may be.\r\nI may say here that the appointment of the Secret Committee did not at\r\nany time bear an official character.\r\n\r\nAlthough the Boer leaders knew of its existence and made use of\r\ninformation conveyed through the members, they did not approve of the\r\nwork of espionage being carried on in the towns, because of the great\r\ndanger to which it exposed the women and the needless risks incurred\r\nby the men.\r\n\r\nThe Secret Service of the Boers was not confined to the burghers. In\r\nevery department of importance there were British subjects in the\r\nemployment of the Boers, especially in that part connected with the\r\nregistration of names of the men who joined the National Scouts.\r\n\r\nFrom every part of the Transvaal the names and addresses of Boers\r\njoining the English were sent to British head-quarters in Pretoria,\r\nthese lists being again conveyed to Captain Naudé, who passed them on\r\nto Boer head-quarters in the field.\r\n\r\nThere was no break in this part of the Boer espionage until the war\r\ncame to an end.\r\n\r\nIn the Burgher Camps Department, as the head-quarters of the\r\nConcentration Camps in Pretoria were called, there were men at work\r\nfor us too, men who by smuggling through statistics of the high\r\nmortality and other facts connected with the Camps, strengthened the\r\nhands of the pro-Boers in England and acquainted the world with the\r\nreal state of affairs even before the Blue books could appear.\r\n\r\nTowards the latter end of the war thousands of burghers had succumbed\r\nto their temptations, and the appalling increase of the Scouts Corps\r\npreyed on the minds of the Boer leaders more than any other calamity.\r\nEverything that ingenuity could devise was tried to stop the burghers\r\nfrom sinking deeper into degradation, members of the Scouts Corps,\r\nwhen captured by the Boers, being executed without mercy and their\r\nfate made known far and wide.\r\n\r\nHell was indeed let loose in South Africa and every man's hand was\r\nturned against his brother. The worst passions of mankind rose to the\r\nsurface, were deliberately played upon, making havoc of every\r\ntradition of country and race.\r\n\r\nIn the towns, where the renegades felt themselves comparatively safe\r\nunder the protection of the British troops, their work was carried on\r\nquite openly. It would not be possible to describe the feelings of the\r\nfaithful Boers when they contemplated this hideous aspect of the war.\r\n\r\nMany futile efforts were made to stem the tide of crime, but it was a\r\nwoman in Pretoria who devised a plan which would undoubtedly have\r\nstruck terror to the hearts of many waverers had it been put to\r\npractice by the Boer leaders, after she had successfully carried it\r\nout.\r\n\r\nAt her instance a trusted mechanic, working secretly at dead of night,\r\nmade half a dozen tiny branding-irons in the form of a cross, to be\r\nused for branding the traitors between the eyes, when captured\r\nred-handed. This drastic measure was, however, not resorted to.\r\n\r\nFOOTNOTES:\r\n\r\n[Footnote 1: \"Zak-patriotten.\"]\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nCHAPTER XVI\r\n\r\nA CONSIGNMENT OF EXPLOSIVES\r\n\r\n\r\nThe following story was related to Hansie by her mother soon after her\r\nreturn from the Irene Camp, and must be repeated here for its\r\nconnection with subsequent events.\r\n\r\nOne afternoon in June Mrs. van Warmelo had been visited by a young\r\nfriend, Miss F., with a man whom she introduced as her brother, an\r\nunexpected arrival from Europe.\r\n\r\n\"Indeed!\" Mrs. van Warmelo exclaimed. \"What a delightful surprise it\r\nmust have been to you!\"\r\n\r\n\"Yes, but he is leaving again very, very soon. In fact\"--here Miss\r\nF.'s manner became mysterious--\"he is here on a mission and we shall\r\nsee very little of him.\"\r\n\r\nMrs. van Warmelo expressed her regret at this, and the conversation\r\nnaturally turned to the general topic, the war.\r\n\r\nLeading questions were put to Mrs. van Warmelo, and she felt that her\r\nassistance was required for some purpose or other; but being too\r\ndiscreet to invite her visitors' confidence, she waited.\r\n\r\nAfter beating about the bush a good deal, Miss F. remarked:\r\n\r\n\"You know the Zoutpansberg District very well, do you not?\"\r\n\r\n\"Yes,\" Mrs. van Warmelo answered; \"we lived there formerly.\"\r\n\r\n\"Then you will perhaps know trustworthy people in Pietersburg, people\r\non whom one can thoroughly rely in these days.\"\r\n\r\nMrs. van Warmelo answered hesitatingly:\r\n\r\n\"Yes--there is one, at least, on whom I can depend.\"\r\n\r\n\"Would there be much risk and difficulty in communicating with General\r\nBotha through such a person?\" Miss F. inquired.\r\n\r\n\"General Botha!\" Mrs. van Warmelo exclaimed. \"But he is not in the\r\nnorth. He is on the High Veld, somewhere south-east of Transvaal, and\r\nmuch easier to communicate with than if he had been in Zoutpansberg.\"\r\n\r\n\"How could one get a message through to him?\" Miss F. asked, and her\r\nhostess decided to beat about the bush no longer.\r\n\r\n\"Do you not think it would be better to trust me and tell me what you\r\nwish to do? I would be better able to answer and help you.\"\r\n\r\nMiss F. then turned to her brother and said:\r\n\r\n\"Mrs. van Warmelo is quite right. Tell her everything.\" Upon which the\r\nyoung man explained that he had been sent out on a secret mission\r\nconnected with a consignment of dynamite which lay buried on the\r\neastern frontier. News had been received in Europe that there was a\r\ndearth of explosives and, consequently, a temporary cessation of\r\nadventures on the railway lines, and it was for the purpose of\r\ncommunicating the fact that this consignment had arrived that he had\r\ntravelled to Pretoria via the East Coast and over Durban. How to get\r\ninto touch with some reliable person in Pretoria who was in direct\r\ncommunication with the Boer forces had been his greatest problem, and\r\nhe was grateful indeed for Mrs. van Warmelo's guarded promise of\r\nassistance.\r\n\r\n\"I cannot tell you anything now,\" she said, \"but if you will leave the\r\nmatter in my hands I promise that you will hear from me to-morrow\r\nmorning.\"\r\n\r\nMr. F. then told her that he had brought with him a small quantity of\r\nthe dynamite, made up into two separate parcels, non-explosive apart,\r\nbut dangerous when mixed together in a certain way. He had been\r\ndeputed to instruct the Boers how to mix these ingredients.\r\n\r\nHe had with him, too, a large prospecting hammer, the long handle of\r\nwhich was bound with leather and closely studded with nails. But the\r\nhandle was _hollow_ and contained a number of detonators, to be sent\r\nout to the Boers for blowing up trains and for damaging the railway\r\nlines and bridges. One other article of interest he had brought with\r\nhim, a huge Parisian hat for his sister, and he told Mrs. van Warmelo\r\nhow the polite inspector of goods on the frontier had held the lovely\r\nheadpiece up, admiring the pink roses nestling in black lace and\r\nchiffon, and little dreaming that he was handling many yards of\r\ndynamite fuse.\r\n\r\n\"A lovely hat!\" he exclaimed when he put it back into the box, without\r\nhaving noticed the _weight_, which alone would have betrayed it to any\r\none familiar with ladies' headgear.\r\n\r\nEarly next morning Mrs. van Warmelo sallied forth to the house of her\r\nconfederate, Mr. Willem Botha, at the other end of the town. He\r\nlistened to her story attentively and said, \"There are spies in town\r\nat this very moment, and they are leaving for the General's commando\r\nto-night.\"\r\n\r\nThis was good news indeed, and Mrs. van Warmelo immediately made an\r\nappointment with Mr. Botha to meet Mr. F. at Harmony that afternoon.\r\n\r\nOn her way home she called at Miss F.'s house, informing her of the\r\nappointment.\r\n\r\nThat afternoon at Harmony a map was closely studied by the two men and\r\nthe exact spot pointed out where the dynamite lay buried, while Mrs.\r\nvan Warmelo packed the detonators one by one in cotton wool in a small\r\nbox, which was conveyed to Mr. Hattingh's house, where the spies were\r\nbeing harboured. In the meantime the entire crown and brim of the\r\nlovely Parisian hat had been unpicked, and that night the dynamite\r\nfuse, wound closely round the body of a spy, went out to the\r\ncommandos, with the small box of detonators.\r\n\r\nSoon after this Mr. F. returned to Europe as he had come, via Natal\r\nand Delagoa Bay, well satisfied that his mission should have been\r\naccomplished with so much ease.\r\n\r\nWhat became of the sample of dynamite my reader will see in the next\r\nchapter.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nCHAPTER XVII\r\n\r\nTHE FIRST INTERVIEW WITH SPIES, INTRODUCING TWO HEROES\r\n\r\n\r\nAmong other things, Mr. Willem Botha warned his friends at Harmony\r\nagainst having a single incriminating document in the house.\r\n\r\n\"Detection means death for all concerned,\" he said one day, \"but\r\nwithout written evidence the worst the enemy can do is to send you out\r\nof the country or to a Concentration Camp. Destroy every paper of a\r\ndangerous nature you may have, as I have done, and then you need never\r\nfeel anxious.\"\r\n\r\nThis wise counsel was all very well, but Hansie had a mania for\r\n\"collecting,\" and she could not make up her mind to destroy what might\r\nbecome a valuable relic of the war.\r\n\r\nShe therefore had her diaries and white envelopes removed to some safe\r\nhiding-place and began a new book for future use.\r\n\r\nIn this book, in everyday pen and ink, she entered the ordinary events\r\nof the day, but in another she wrote in lemon-juice her adventures\r\nwith the spies and all information of an incriminating character. Both\r\nbooks lay open on her writing-table--the \"White Diary,\" as she called\r\nit, with its clean and spotless pages, with only here and there an\r\nalmost invisible mark to show how far she had got, and the misleading\r\nrecord in pen and ink to throw the English off their guard in the\r\nevent of an unexpected search of the house.\r\n\r\nThe white diary gave a sense of security and satisfaction at the\r\nthought of the secrets it contained for future reference, and it was\r\nonly after eight years that portions of the writing became visible to\r\nthe naked eye.\r\n\r\nA few hours' exposure to the sun's rays, and the application of a hot\r\niron here and there, made it sufficiently legible to be rewritten word\r\nfor word, and it is to the existence of this diary that we owe our\r\naccurate information of what otherwise would have been lost for ever.\r\n\r\nI may add here that it was only the re-reading of the White Diary\r\nafter so many years, and the surprising amount of half-forgotten\r\ninformation Hansie found in it, that suggested the idea to her mind of\r\npublishing its contents in the form of a story.\r\n\r\nIt was on the morning of July 17th, 1901, that Mr. Botha was seen\r\ncoming up the garden path between the rows of orange trees at Harmony,\r\nwith his jauntiest air, by which it was evident that he was the bearer\r\nof news from the front. Briefly he informed our heroines that two\r\nspies had come in the previous night and wished to see Mrs. van\r\nWarmelo about certain communications sent out by her to General Botha\r\na few weeks back. They were staying with Mrs. Joubert, widow of the\r\nlate Commandant-General P.J. Joubert, and were leaving again the next\r\nnight with dispatches.\r\n\r\nIn the interview with them at 9 o'clock the next morning Hansie\r\nmade her first acquaintance with Captain Naudé, who plays the\r\nprincipal part in the story here recorded, and whose courage and\r\nresource gave him an unquestioned position of leadership.\r\n\r\n [Illustration: W.J. BOTHA]\r\n\r\nGood reader, do you know what it means to be an unwilling captive in\r\nthe hands of your enemy for more than a year, and then to find\r\nyourself in the presence of men, healthy, brown, and hearty, _your own\r\nmen_, straight from the glorious freedom of their life in the veld?\r\nCan you realise the sensation of shaking hands with them for the first\r\ntime and the atmosphere of wholesome unrestraint and unconscious\r\ndignity which greeted you in their presence? Well, I do, and it would\r\nbe useless trying to tell any one what it is like, for those who know\r\nwill never forget, and those who don't will never understand.\r\n\r\nIn Mrs. Joubert's drawing-room they were waiting for their visitors\r\nnext day, Captain Naudé and his private secretary, Mr. Greyling--the\r\nformer a tall, fair man, slightly built and boyish-looking and with a\r\nnoble, intelligent face, the latter a mere youth, but evidently shrewd\r\nand brave.\r\n\r\nThe first eager questions naturally were for news of Fritz, the\r\nyoungest of the van Warmelos and the last remaining in the field since\r\nthe capture of his brother Dietlof in April of that year.\r\n\r\nMr. Greyling said that he had seen Fritz a few weeks back in perfect\r\nhealth and in the best of spirits, but barefoot and in rags. His\r\ntrousers were so tattered that he might as well have been without, and\r\nMr. Greyling had provided him with another pair. With unkempt beard\r\nand long hair he seemed to justify the jest about a \"gorilla\" war\r\nwith which some of our enemies amused themselves.\r\n\r\nWhen the merriment occasioned by this description of the young warrior\r\nhad subsided, the conversation turned on more serious matters.\r\n\r\nThe Captain had with him a full report of the last conference held by\r\nthe generals, and a copy of the resolution passed by them and\r\nPresident Steyn, a unanimous determination to stand together until\r\ntheir independence had been secured. What the ultimate destination of\r\nthese documents was I am not at liberty to say, but copies of them\r\nwere despatched, smuggled through in one way or another to President\r\nKruger.\r\n\r\nCaptain Naudé also brought greetings from General Botha and told Mrs.\r\nvan Warmelo how pleased the General had been with the news she had\r\nsent him on a previous occasion.\r\n\r\nIn order to explain the nature of the business which had brought the\r\nCaptain into Pretoria again, it will be necessary to turn our\r\nattention for a moment to the matters referred to in the previous\r\nchapter in connection with which he had once more risked the dangers\r\nof a visit to the capital.\r\n\r\n\"Yes,\" in answer to his inquiries, \"the dynamite has arrived and is at\r\nDelagoa Bay. A sample will be brought to this house to-day, with\r\ninstructions for mixing it.\"\r\n\r\nThis was glad news for the two men, and Hansie soon after took her\r\nleave, promising to come back in the course of the morning with the\r\ndynamite.\r\n\r\nHer manner was rather mysterious, and she took some unnecessary turns,\r\nto make sure of not being followed, before she reached the house\r\nwhere the dangerous article had been hidden. There a brown-paper\r\nparcel was handed to her with a brief, \"Read the instructions and\r\ndestroy them,\" and she was left alone in a quiet drawing-room.\r\n\r\nOn opening the parcel she found a small bottle of yellowish powder,\r\nostensibly a remedy for colic, to be used in the way prescribed, and a\r\npot of paste purporting to be an excellent salve for chapped hands.\r\nThe two, when mixed together in a certain way, made up one pound of\r\ndynamite and had passed safely through the hands of the inspector of\r\ngoods on the frontier.\r\n\r\nAs Hansie was cycling back to Mrs. Joubert's house with her precious\r\nparcel, she had to pass the Military Governor's offices on Church\r\nSquare, and the thought occurred to her that this was a fitting\r\nopportunity to interview General Maxwell regarding her tour of\r\ninspection to the Concentration Camps, and at the same time to procure\r\na permit for the Vocal Society to hold a charity concert.\r\n\r\n\"Why not go in now?\" she thought. \"There is some fun in going to see\r\nthe Governor with one pound of dynamite in one's hands, and it would\r\nsave me the trouble of coming into town again. Another thing: if I\r\n_am_ being watched or followed, I am sure there can be nothing like a\r\nvisit to Government Buildings to disarm the most suspicious.\"\r\n\r\nArrived at the Governor's office, she noticed with some amusement that\r\nthe urchin at the door wrote on the card, under her name, \"Nature of\r\nbusiness: permission _to have a consort_.\" (This was indeed to come\r\nlater!)\r\n\r\nThe German Consul was engaged with General Maxwell and Hansie had a\r\nlong time to wait, and when at last she was shown in she found the\r\naffable Governor in a very bad temper and his A.D.C., Major Hoskins,\r\nlooking anything but comfortable.\r\n\r\nThe former shook hands and greeted her with a curt, \"Well, what is the\r\nmatter with you now?\"\r\n\r\n\"That is very unkind of you, General,\" she said.\r\n\r\n\"Why?\" he demanded.\r\n\r\n\"Oh, because it sounds as if I trouble you every day.\"\r\n\r\n\"Well,\" he answered, smiling slightly, \"what can I do for you?\"\r\n\r\n\"That's better, thank you,\" exclaimed Hansie cheerfully, and\r\nstraightway plunged into business.\r\n\r\nWith her mind dwelling on explosives and Secret Service men, she\r\nreminded him of a promise he had given her soon after her return from\r\nthe Irene Camp, that she should visit all the Camps in the Transvaal\r\nand write reports for him, to be sent to London if necessary, for\r\npublication in the Blue books.\r\n\r\n\"I have come to arrange with you about my tour,\" she said.\r\n\r\n\"Yes,\" he answered. \"I have thought about it and will give you the\r\nnecessary permits and every facility. You will travel at Government\r\nexpense, and I will do all I can to make your way easy, on one\r\ncondition. You must promise to give me a full and true report of\r\nthings exactly as you find them.\"\r\n\r\nHansie was deeply touched by his confidence in her truth, which she\r\nknew was not misplaced, and gladly gave the promise he asked from her.\r\n\r\n\"What you are undertaking,\" he continued, \"will not only be\r\ndifficult, but dangerous. The accommodation in the Camps will probably\r\nbe very bad, and what would you think of a charge of dynamite under\r\nyour train?\"\r\n\r\nHansie glanced down at the parcel on her lap and said something about\r\nthinking she would risk it.\r\n\r\nThe conversation was taking an unexpected turn, and she longed to get\r\naway, but the Governor still had much to say to her.\r\n\r\n\"You can safely visit all the Camps except those in the north, in the\r\nZoutpansberg and Waterberg districts, and the one in Potchefstroom.\"\r\n(\"Boers ahead!\" was Hansie's mental comment.) \"And I don't think you\r\nought to go alone. Have you thought of any one who could accompany\r\nyou?\"\r\n\r\n\"Yes,\" Hansie replied. \"A friend of mine, Mrs. Stiemens, who nursed\r\nwith me at Irene, would like to go with me. She is the right woman for\r\nsuch an undertaking, strong and healthy and very cheerful.\"\r\n\r\nThis suggestion meeting with the Governor's approval, it was arranged\r\nthat they should visit the camp at Middelburg first, and while they\r\nwere preparing for the tour he would notify their visit to the various\r\ncommandants and arrange about the permits.\r\n\r\nPermission to hold a concert was instantly granted, and she was on the\r\npoint of leaving, when he asked her whether she had heard of President\r\nSteyn's narrow escape.\r\n\r\nYes, she had heard something, but would like to know more about it.\r\n\r\nWith evident enjoyment he proceeded to relate how the President had\r\nslept in Reitz, a small, deserted village in the Free State, with\r\ntwenty-seven men, how they had stabled their horses and made\r\nthemselves generally comfortable for the night, how they were\r\nsurrounded and surprised by the English, who took all their horses\r\nbefore the alarm could be given, how the President escaped on a small\r\npony, which was standing unnoticed in the back yard, and how all the\r\nother men were captured, General Cronjé (the second), General Wessels,\r\nGeneral Fraser, and many other well-known and prominent men. The\r\nPresident must have fled in the open in nothing but a shirt, because\r\nall his clothes and even his boots were left behind. In his pockets\r\nwere many valuable letters and documents.\r\n\r\nAltogether this event must have given the English great joy, but I\r\nthink they forgot it in their chagrin at the President's escape, for\r\nwhen Hansie openly rejoiced and blessed the \"small unnoticed pony,\"\r\nexpressing her great admiration for the brave President, the Governor\r\nsuddenly turned crusty again and said he could not understand how any\r\none could admire a man who had been the ruin of his country.\r\n\r\n\"Poor old General!\" Hansie mused as she cycled slowly up to Mrs.\r\nJoubert's house, where the spies were waiting for her. \"I have never\r\nknown him so quarrelsome and unkind. I wonder what it could have been!\r\nThe German Consul's visit or the President's escape? What a mercy that\r\nhe knew nothing of----\" She cycled faster, suddenly remembering that\r\nit was late and there was still much to do before the two men could\r\nbegin their perilous journey that night.\r\n\r\nAfter she had handed the parcel over to them, with verbal\r\ninstructions for its use, she bade them good-bye and went home to\r\nlunch.\r\n\r\nThat evening Mrs. van Warmelo took important documents, of which we\r\nspeak later, and European newspaper cuttings to the Captain, with some\r\nmoney for her tattered son, and a letter for him in a disguised hand.\r\nNo names were mentioned, and in the event of the spies falling into\r\nthe hands of the enemy, nothing found on them could have incriminated\r\nany one.\r\n\r\nThey were about to leave when she arrived at Mrs. Joubert's house.\r\n\r\nTheir preparations were conducted in perfect silence, except for an\r\noccasional whispered command, while outside, guard was kept by an\r\nalert figure, slender and upright, the figure of the aged hostess of\r\nthe spies, who, it is said, was never visible to the spies and never\r\nslept by day or night as long as these men were being sheltered under\r\nher roof.\r\n\r\nA brave and dauntless woman she was, knowing no fear for herself, but\r\nfilled with concern for the fate of the men whose capture meant\r\ncertain death, for it was whispered in town that on the head of Koos\r\nNaudé, Captain of the Secret Service, a price of £1,000 had been\r\nfixed.\r\n\r\nThe men left Pretoria that night for the \"nest\" of the spies in the\r\nSkurvebergen, west from Pretoria, and from there they proceeded to\r\nwhere they expected to find the Generals.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nCHAPTER XVIII\r\n\r\nTHE CASE OF SPOELSTRA\r\n\r\n\r\nThere were so many events of importance during the month of July 1901\r\nthat there is great difficulty in choosing the right material from\r\nHansie's diary.\r\n\r\nNo wonder that that period seems to have been in a state of chaos, for\r\nthe things to which we attached the greatest importance \"ended in\r\nsmoke,\" and seemingly small incidents assumed gigantic proportions\r\nbefore the glorious spring broke over the country.\r\n\r\nHansie was busy preparing for her tour of inspection through the\r\nCamps, though to tell the truth she rather dreaded it, because she was\r\nfar from strong, but she realised that this was an opportunity not to\r\nbe despised.\r\n\r\nGeneral Maxwell frequently impressed it on her that she was the only\r\nexception, that no one else who had applied for leave to visit the\r\nCamps had been granted permits--it was against the regulations, and he\r\nwas only sending her because he knew he could depend upon her. He\r\nwanted to know _the truth_, and she, with her knowledge of the country\r\nand people, would be better able to draw up reports than any one else\r\nhe knew.\r\n\r\nVery flattering, but Hansie's heart sank when she thought of Irene.\r\n\r\nWhat awaited her on this tour?\r\n\r\nOn July 27th, when she paid him her last visit in connection with her\r\npassports, he asked her, as she was on the point of leaving him,\r\nwhether she did not think the Boers ought to surrender now.\r\n\r\nNow, Hansie had firmly made up her mind not to be drawn into argument\r\nwith him again, but this question took her so much by surprise that\r\nshe flared out with:\r\n\r\n\"Don't you think the English ought to give in? Why should the Boers\r\ngive in? We are fighting for our own, and England is fighting for what\r\nbelongs to another. Why should England not give in?\"\r\n\r\nWith some asperity he answered:\r\n\r\n\"I suppose it is a question of 'Eendracht maakt Macht,' or whatever\r\nyou call it.\"\r\n\r\n\"Eendracht maakt Macht?\" she exclaimed. \"I really fail to see the\r\nconnection.\"\r\n\r\n\"Well,\" he answered, \"isn't Might _Right_ all the world over?\"\r\n\r\n\"No, indeed!\" she cried vehemently. \"Might is right in England, and\r\nyour motto is an apt one, but in South Africa might is _not_ right.\r\n_Our_ motto, 'Eendracht maakt Macht,' means 'Unity is Strength.'\"\r\n\r\nThe General seemed much surprised and did not look pleased at her\r\nassurance that he had been misinformed as to the correct\r\ntranslation--he had been told on \"good authority\" that the Boer motto\r\nwas the same as the English.\r\n\r\n\"If might had been right,\" she continued, \"the war would have been\r\nover long ago--our poor little forces would have been crushed--but\r\nunity is glorious strength, an _inspired_ strength.\"\r\n\r\nAlas, alas, that she was so soon to find out how a want of unity can\r\nbring disaster and defeat!\r\n\r\n\"It is very stupid to argue with him. Surely he cannot expect to find\r\nmy views changing on account of the duration of the war!\"\r\n\r\nNow, whether this unfortunate conversation had anything to do with the\r\nnext developments I do not know. I do not _think_ so, for the Governor\r\nwas a broadminded and just man, not to be deterred from his purpose by\r\nany small consideration, but the fact remains that Hansie received a\r\ncurt note from him four days later, informing her that he had changed\r\nhis mind about allowing her to inspect the Camps, and that all her\r\npermits had been cancelled. No word of apology or regret, but a curt\r\nrequest to return to him the passports and letters of introduction she\r\nhad received from him.\r\n\r\n\"Serves you right,\" her mother said, \"for showing your enemy your\r\nhand.\"\r\n\r\n\"Oh no,\" Hansie said, \"I am positive that has nothing to do with it;\r\nin fact, I don't believe General Maxwell is responsible for this at\r\nall. He is acting under orders, and if I am not mistaken Lord\r\nKitchener is at the bottom of it. _He_ has put down that awful foot of\r\nhis, mother, and there is nothing more to be done.\"\r\n\r\n\"Perhaps\"--Mrs. van Warmelo looked grave--\"perhaps they have found out\r\nsomething. I have often wondered at finding myself still at large\r\nafter the commotion made about the petitions and the report of the\r\nConsuls. I can't forget how critical things seemed to me when three\r\nConsuls came to Harmony late at night, while you were at Irene, to\r\nwarn me that the whole detective force was on the track of the\r\npetitioners. Poor Mr. Cinatti was frightfully excited and said that it\r\nwas his duty to see that his petitioners' names did not become known.\r\nHe warned me that everything would be done to find us out, traps would\r\nbe set for us, and he advised me, if ever any one came to Harmony and\r\nsaid that my name had been revealed, I was to say No! No!! No!!! and\r\nhe danced about the room, striking his left hand with his clenched\r\nright fist at every 'No!'\"\r\n\r\nHansie laughed and said, \"There is no fear of your being found out.\r\nThe petitioners won't talk of that, you may be quite sure, and all the\r\nConsuls are to be trusted.\"\r\n\r\n\"What are you going to do about this?\" her mother asked, touching the\r\nGeneral's note.\r\n\r\n\"Oh, I am going to wait a few days to make him 'feel bad' and then, I\r\nsuppose, I must return my passports to him.\"\r\n\r\nShe waited three days, and then the General's behaviour strengthened\r\nher in her belief that he was not to blame for the shabby way in which\r\nhe had treated her.\r\n\r\nHe was most penitent, begged her to forgive him for having caused her\r\nso much inconvenience, and said he had been \"very weak\" in\r\nentertaining the idea of her visiting the Camps.\r\n\r\nThey talked about certain improvements which Hansie had suggested, and\r\non which she had intended to lay much stress in her reports.\r\n\r\nHe promised that everything in his power would be done to arrest the\r\nhigh mortality, and, encouraged by his sympathetic attitude, she\r\npleaded for \"poor Middelburg.\"\r\n\r\n\"I have just been told that there were 503 deaths in that Camp during\r\nlast month [July]. Can that be possible?\"\r\n\r\n\"I am afraid it is only too true,\" he answered, sighing heavily. \"The\r\npeople on the High Veld are very badly off during this bitter\r\nweather.\"\r\n\r\n\"Will you allow me to send the warm clothing and blankets which I\r\nintended to distribute in the Camps?\" she asked.\r\n\r\n\"Certainly, the more the better. Every facility will be afforded you\r\nin this.\"\r\n\r\nHansie felt happier after this conversation with the Governor, more\r\nconvinced that something would be done to alleviate the sufferings in\r\nthe Camps.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nNow, if our heroine had been allowed to carry out her tour of\r\ninspection, she would have been out of \"mischief's way\" for many\r\nmonths, and much of what I am about to relate would not have taken\r\nplace at all.\r\n\r\n\"Fair play is bonny play,\" and a breach of faith is bound, at some\r\ntime or other, to be followed by undesirable consequences.\r\n\r\nHansie made up her mind to serve her country in another, perhaps\r\nbetter way, and in this she was assisted by the resistless hand of\r\nFate, as we shall see in the following chapters.\r\n\r\nThat she was never \"caught\" is a marvel indeed, for she was most\r\nreckless of danger.\r\n\r\nThere were a number of intimate and trusted friends with whom she came\r\ninto frequent contact, but who had no idea of the work which was being\r\ncarried on at Harmony.\r\n\r\nTo these friends, however, she went with her \"reliable war news\" (more\r\nespecially news brought into town by the spies, of the Boer victories)\r\nwhen anything of importance became known, and in time her friends\r\nfound out that her news could always be depended upon as reliable\r\nindeed, although they had no inkling of the source whence it had been\r\nderived. There was danger of her becoming altogether too \"cocksure,\"\r\nwhen she was one day pulled up sharply by the following occurrence:\r\n\r\nCaptain Naudé was in town again, was, if I remember rightly, under her\r\nvery roof, when she visited a man for whom she entertained feelings of\r\ngreat affection and esteem, with the object of gladdening his heart\r\nwith news of a particularly gratifying nature from the front.\r\n\r\nHe listened attentively, he asked a number of questions, nodding with\r\nthe greatest satisfaction at her direct and definite replies.\r\n\r\n\"I must go,\" Hansie exclaimed suddenly, \"I only came in for a few\r\nmoments. We have to see some friends off to-night.\"\r\n\r\n\"Ah! Just wait a minute, please, will you?\"\r\n\r\nHe hastened from the room, returning shortly with a parcel which he\r\nplaced in her hands without a word.\r\n\r\n\"What is this?\" she asked curiously.\r\n\r\n\"Five pounds of the best Boer tobacco.\"\r\n\r\n\"For me?\" in amazement.\r\n\r\nHe approached her and whispered in her ear:\r\n\r\n\"For the spy!\"\r\n\r\nHansie fled from that house, laughing as she went, and patting her\r\nparcel of tobacco rapturously.\r\n\r\n\"Oh, mother, wasn't it funny of him?\"\r\n\r\n\"Yes, but when will you learn to be more careful? Hansie, you are\r\nfrightfully reckless. You will not listen to reason, I suppose, until\r\nwe find ourselves across the border and Harmony confiscated!\"\r\n\r\nThe Captain was delighted with the present and willingly added the\r\nextra five pounds weight to his cumbrous and heavy burdens.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nSomebody, leaving the country for Holland, offered to take documents\r\nand letters from the van Warmelos to the President on condition that\r\nthey could guarantee that he would not be \"found out.\"\r\n\r\nThis offer came at a most opportune moment, for there was information\r\nof the greatest importance to be sent to Mr. W.T. Stead.\r\n\r\nFor some weeks past Mrs. van Warmelo had been anxious to smuggle\r\nthrough to him copies of the two petitions to the Consuls and a copy\r\nof their report on the Concentration Camps. For this the White\r\nEnvelope was not considered satisfactory enough--the documents were\r\ntoo bulky and the post during those days not to be depended upon.\r\n\r\nThe information, therefore, was written on tissue paper (the usual\r\nmethod) and packed in a small bottle of Dr. Williams's Pink Pills, to\r\nbe handed to a relative of Mrs. van Warmelo's in Holland, with\r\ninstructions that he should read the contents and forward them without\r\ndelay to Mr. Stead for publication in the _Review of Reviews_.\r\n\r\nThe \"medicine\" was faithfully delivered in Holland, but alas! the\r\nrecipient, with unheard-of presumption, after having read the\r\ndocuments, decided in his own mind that they were not of sufficient\r\nimportance to be published in London and quietly kept them to himself!\r\n\r\nKept them to himself, at a time when their publication to the world\r\nwould have been of inestimable value to the Boers and would perhaps\r\nhave saved thousands of lives!\r\n\r\nOf course this breach of trust was not known at Harmony for many\r\nmonths--not, in fact, until so long after it took place that the war\r\nwas drawing to a close, and it was too late to repeat the attempt.\r\n\r\nWhen one thinks that but for one man's indifference to duty the report\r\nof the Consuls would have been published in London at a time when all\r\nEngland was shaken with the revelations made by Miss Hobhouse and the\r\nagitation of the pro-Boers was at its height, then one cannot help\r\nrealising the futility of fighting against Fate.\r\n\r\nNot yet had the time of salvation arrived for the victims of the\r\nConcentration Camps--not yet--not until the toll of life had been paid\r\nto the uttermost.\r\n\r\nOther schemes for supplying that section of the British public,\r\ndesirous of being acquainted with _the truth_, with trustworthy\r\ninformation from South Africa, met with greater success, and I relate\r\nthe following instance for the sake of the interesting circumstances\r\nconnected with it, not for its own sake, for obvious reasons.\r\n\r\nMany of my readers will remember the case of Mr. Spoelstra, a\r\nHollander, which caused such a commotion in the Transvaal during the\r\nwar.\r\n\r\nHe wrote a long letter for publication in Holland on the hardships and\r\nill-treatment to which the Boer women were subjected in transit from\r\ntheir farms to the Concentration Camps, by the soldiers (chiefly, I\r\nmay mention here, the Canadian Scouts and Australian Bushrangers, who\r\nwere, however, all regarded as British soldiers, these distinctions\r\nnot being sufficiently clear to the average South African).\r\n\r\nThis lengthy document Spoelstra confided to the care of a man who was\r\nabout to leave for Holland.\r\n\r\nOn the borders of Natal, the man, on being cross-questioned by the\r\ninspector of goods, became so confused and agitated that he brought\r\nsuspicion on himself, with the result that he was detained while his\r\nluggage was thoroughly overhauled.\r\n\r\nThe unfortunate letter was found, Spoelstra was arrested and\r\nimmediately imprisoned in the Pretoria Jail.\r\n\r\nThe Dutch Consul, Mr. Domela Nieuwenhuis, on being appealed to,\r\ninsisted on a public trial, which was granted after some delay,\r\nSpoelstra being allowed three days in which to procure his witnesses,\r\n_in Pretoria_ and in the small Camp in one of the suburbs, _not_ in\r\nIrene.\r\n\r\nNotwithstanding the shortness of the time and the restrictions placed\r\nupon him, he succeeded in getting nearly thirty women to give evidence\r\non his behalf, and at his trial, which was publicly held, revelations\r\nof a very startling nature were made.\r\n\r\nThe greatest indignation was felt and freely expressed by the Dutch\r\ncommunity when, in spite of having proved his accusations beyond a\r\ndoubt, Spoelstra was fined £100 and sentenced to one year's\r\nimprisonment.\r\n\r\nThe fine was immediately paid by his friends.\r\n\r\nNow, there was a brave Englishwoman, Mrs. Bodde, married to a\r\nHollander, who was shortly leaving for England, who offered her\r\nservices to Mrs. van Warmelo if the latter wished to make the\r\ncircumstances of the case known to Mr. Stead. This was an exceedingly\r\nplucky thing to do, for the examinations on the frontier were much\r\nmore severe than usual, after the discovery of Spoelstra's letter.\r\nMrs. van Warmelo therefore promised to take extra precautions in\r\nconcealing the articles she wished to send. After a great deal of\r\ntrouble she succeeded in getting a full report of the Spoelstra trial,\r\nsixty large pages of closely typed evidence on tissue paper, and with\r\nthis valuable material to dispose of Mrs. van Warmelo realised that it\r\nwould be necessary to exert the utmost ingenuity.\r\n\r\nShe asked her friend Mrs. Bodde whether she would be taking a\r\nlunch-basket.\r\n\r\nCertainly she would.\r\n\r\n\"Well,\" Mrs. van Warmelo said, \"I will give you something for your\r\nlunch-basket, if you will promise not to open it until you get to\r\nLondon.\"\r\n\r\nShe promised, and Mrs. van Warmelo bought a tin of cocoa, a one-pound\r\ntin, unfastened the paper wrapper carefully, then damped the paper\r\nround the lid until it could be folded back without being damaged,\r\nremoved the lid and pulled out the paper bag containing the cocoa.\r\nThis bag she unfastened _at the bottom_, shook out fully two-thirds of\r\nthe cocoa and filled up the empty space with the tightly rolled packet\r\ncontaining the documents, replacing the whole in the tin, cocoa side\r\nup, of course, and pasting down the paper wrapper over the lid to make\r\nit look like new.\r\n\r\nAlthough there was very little cocoa in the tin, it was found to weigh\r\nexactly one pound as before.\r\n\r\nArrangements were then made with Mrs. Bodde for her future\r\ncorrespondence on the subject with Mrs. van Warmelo, and in due time\r\nthe latter received a note from Mrs. Bodde announcing her safe arrival\r\nin London and saying that her friend Mrs. Brown (Mr. Stead) had\r\nreceived her (the documents) with open arms. She was not going to live\r\nin Mrs. Brown's house as she had intended (the documents would not be\r\npublished in the _Review of Reviews_), but she was going into a house\r\nof her own (they would appear in pamphlet form).\r\n\r\nThis was good news indeed, and now my readers know how it came about\r\nthat the sensational Spoelstra case was published in London in\r\npamphlet form (in three successive pamphlets, for the evidence was\r\nfound to be too bulky for one) during the war. The first pamphlet\r\nreached Harmony in safety through the post, the second and third,\r\nthough duly dispatched, failed to reach their destination, but nobody\r\nat Harmony minded. The great object had been achieved.\r\n\r\nHansie, going to the post one day, took out of her letter-box a small\r\nflat book, addressed to \"Mrs. Wentworth, Box 56.\"\r\n\r\nShe was about to throw it back into the Post Office, with \"_not_ 56\"\r\nscribbled on it, when her eyes fell on the English postmark, Tunbridge\r\nWells, and she stayed her hand in time.\r\n\r\nTunbridge Wells was the address of the brave Englishwoman, the great\r\npro-Boer, and the package when opened was found to contain a copy of\r\nMethuen's _Peace or War in South Africa_, which was first \"devoured\"\r\nat Harmony and by other people in Pretoria and was then sent out to\r\nthe commandos by the spies, to be read and reread by the burghers\r\nuntil there was nothing left of it except a few tattered pages.\r\n\r\nSoon after the publication of the Spoelstra case there was some\r\nexcitement in Pretoria about the appearance in the _Westminster\r\nGazette_ of a long article on the Irene Concentration Camp. The\r\nwriter, who gave each detail with great accuracy, seemed to have\r\npersonal knowledge and experience of the Camp, and it was not\r\nsurprising that Hansie should have been taxed with it on every side.\r\n\r\nThe Consuls spoke to her direct, advising her to be more careful of\r\nher facts, and Mr. Cinatti, when she assured him of her innocence (?),\r\nsaid with huge delight, in his funny, broken English:\r\n\r\n\"Never mind, my dear little sing, you need not confess to _us_--but\r\nare you good at guessing riddles?\"\r\n\r\n\"Not particularly.\"\r\n\r\n\"Well, dis one won't trouble you much. What is dis? It is small and\r\noblong and white, and it was laid by a hen?\"\r\n\r\n\"An egg,\" Hansie answered innocently.\r\n\r\nHe shouted with laughter.\r\n\r\n\"Are you sure?\"\r\n\r\n\"Of course.\"\r\n\r\n\"Well, we are just as sure dat Miss van Warmelo wrote dat article. And\r\nif you want to see your work in print I'll bring it round dis very\r\nafternoon.\"\r\n\r\n\"I should like very much to see it,\" she replied.\r\n\r\nThat afternoon, just before Mr. Cinatti was expected, Gentleman Jim\r\nkilled a big snake in his room, and Hansie, thinking to give her\r\nfunny friend a fright for misdoubting her word, \"arranged\" the corpse\r\non the steps of the front verandah, hiding the mutilated head under\r\nthe leaves of the violet plants.\r\n\r\nBut the Consul came late, and other visitors before him heralded their\r\narrival by shrieks and jumps, to the great delight of the mischievous\r\ngirl.\r\n\r\n\"You are a very pranky little sing,\" Mr. Cinatti said, flourishing the\r\n_Westminster Gazette_ before her eyes, \"and den you want us not to\r\nbelieve dat you wrote dis.\"\r\n\r\nAnd indeed, when Hansie glanced through the article, she found it\r\ndifficult to maintain that she had not written it, for there were all\r\nher \"pet\" cases of overcrowding and underfeeding, her statistics, and\r\nthe very terms she was in the habit of using when speaking of the\r\nvolunteer nurses. She called them a \"set of agitators,\" in sarcastic\r\nimitation of the Commandant's favourite expression.\r\n\r\nThe only explanation to the affair could be that Mr. Stead, or perhaps\r\nMrs. Bodde, had made use of the facts contained in one of Hansie's\r\nsmuggled letters, and in that case she could naturally be held\r\nresponsible. She was advised by loving friends to keep her boxes ready\r\npacked for a speedy departure, \"for when the warning comes you will\r\nnot be allowed much time to pack.\"\r\n\r\nBut she disregarded all warnings, except to take extra precautions for\r\nthe safety of her diary.\r\n\r\n [Illustration: GENTLEMAN JIM'S ROOM.]\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nCHAPTER XIX\r\n\r\nDIAMOND CUT DIAMOND!\r\n\r\n\r\nIt would be a simple matter for me to fill this volume many times by\r\nrelating the thrilling experiences and adventures of people unknown to\r\nme personally and yet known sufficiently by intimate friends who\r\nguarantee their truth and veracity, but this is not my intention in\r\nwriting this book.\r\n\r\nA brief outline, however, of the history of one of the principal\r\nmembers of the Secret Committee, during the war, will not be out of\r\nplace here, because of his close connection with the \"Petticoat\r\nCommando.\"\r\n\r\nMr. C.P. Hattingh, head keeper of the Government Buildings under the\r\nSouth African Republic and deacon of the Dutch Reformed Church under\r\nthe Reverend Mr. Bosman, played the part of an honourable and staunch\r\nburgher throughout the war, and rendered countless services to\r\ndestitute women and children, in addition to his strenuous labours on\r\nthe Secret Service.\r\n\r\nOn the morning of June 5th, 1900, when it became evident beyond doubt\r\nthat the British would enter Pretoria that day, he removed the\r\nTransvaal flag from Government Buildings and took it to his house for\r\nsafe keeping.\r\n\r\nTo his surprise he was not asked at any time by the military what had\r\nbecome of the Government flag, and he was able to keep it in safety\r\nuntil his position on the Committee became precarious and made it\r\ndangerous for him to preserve this precious relic of the past at his\r\nown house any longer.\r\n\r\nHe therefore secretly conveyed it to the house of a friend, Mr. Isaac\r\nHaarhoff, whose wife carefully concealed it until the war was over,\r\nand then handed it to him again. He gave it to General Botha, who\r\npresented it to the Pretoria Museum, where it is now preserved and\r\nexhibited as a priceless national memento.\r\n\r\nMr. Hattingh took the oath of neutrality with the other burghers in\r\nPretoria and maintained his post in the Government Buildings for one\r\nmonth after the occupation of the capital. He was then asked either to\r\ntake the oath of allegiance or resign from his post.\r\n\r\nHe chose the latter alternative, although he had a wife and family to\r\nsupport and knew not how, in time of war, he would find the means to\r\ndo so.\r\n\r\nAfter some deliberation he decided to begin a private bakery in a\r\nsmall building behind his house, and then began what proved to be a\r\ndesperate struggle for existence.\r\n\r\nWith Boer meal at £8 per bag and flour at £5 per hundred pounds, the\r\nunfortunate man tried to make a small profit on the tiny sixpenny\r\nloaves. There was no question of engaging hired help, and he was\r\nobliged to work almost day and night in order to make the business\r\npay. Sometimes he had neither sleep nor rest for thirty hours at a\r\nstretch except while partaking of his frugal fare. When flour became\r\neven more scarce he had to augment his supply by mixing it with\r\nmealie meal, ground sweet-potatoes, and barley, until, in fact, only\r\nsufficient flour was used to keep the loaves from falling to pieces.\r\n\r\nBy hard work he was not only able to pay his way, but assisted\r\nrelatives and friends in a similar predicament.\r\n\r\nAs one of the deacons of the church, he came into constant touch with\r\nthe wives and families of fighting burghers, brought into town from\r\ntheir devastated homes, and it was a common sight to see a row of\r\nthese unfortunates standing in his back-yard, holding dishes and\r\nbuckets containing their rations of meal and flour, which they\r\nimplored him to take in exchange for his ready-baked loaves, because\r\nthere was a dearth of fuel.\r\n\r\nAlthough their rations consisted of what had perhaps once been flour,\r\nbut was now a black and lumpy composition, evil-smelling and swarming\r\nwith vermin, the good man never disappointed his petitioners.\r\n\r\nHis fame as a philanthropist spread, and the rows of women in his\r\nback-yard increased. While engaged in serving them he listened to\r\ntheir tales of hardship and privation, watched their suffering faces,\r\nmade mental notes of the harrowing details of each case.\r\n\r\nThere was an epidemic of \"black measles\" going through the town at the\r\ntime in the overcrowded quarters of the \"Boer refugees,\" as they were\r\ncalled. Scarcely a mother appealed to him who had not lost one or more\r\nchildren, in many cases all she possessed, within a few weeks.\r\n\r\nNow, Mr. Hattingh would no doubt have concerned himself with the\r\npeaceful occupation of his bakery until the end of the war (for he\r\nhad his hands more than full), had his compassionate heart not been\r\nwrung beyond endurance by the scenes he was forced to witness every\r\nday. His conscience smote him and he reproached himself with being in\r\ntown when duty should have called him to the side of his\r\nfellow-countrymen, struggling against such fearful odds in their\r\nefforts to preserve their independence.\r\n\r\nBitterness filled his soul.\r\n\r\nWhat religious and conscientious scruples he still had against\r\nviolating his oath of neutrality he laid before his most trusted\r\nfriends, to be met with the same answer everywhere, \"The oath of\r\nneutrality is null and void, a mere formality,\" as the enemy had\r\ndeclared in connection with the recruiting of National Scouts from the\r\nranks of the Transvaal burghers.\r\n\r\nAt this critical moment it was not to be wondered at that he should\r\nhave accepted Captain Naudé's appointment of him on the Secret\r\nCommittee, not only without hesitation, but in a spirit of intense\r\nsatisfaction.\r\n\r\nHenceforth the mind of the baker dwelt with ceaseless activity on the\r\nproblems of the Boer espionage, while his busy fingers plied the brown\r\nand white loaves of bread.\r\n\r\nInspired by patriotism, driven by love and compassion, he became in\r\ntime the most resourceful, the most ingenious, and the most trusted of\r\nBoer spies.\r\n\r\nOne evening, soon after dusk, while he was engaged in his bakery, he\r\nheard a timid knock at the door, which he opened, fully expecting to\r\nsee a customer.\r\n\r\nTo his surprise he found there a Boer with a long, unkempt beard--a\r\n\"backvelder,\" or, as we call it, a \"takhaar,\" of the most pronounced\r\ntype.\r\n\r\nThe man withdrew into the shadows as the door opened, and with great\r\napparent timidity showed as little of himself as possible.\r\n\r\nMr. Hattingh asked him to come in, and he ventured forward with\r\nshrinking hesitation.\r\n\r\n\"What can I do for you?\" Mr. Hattingh asked.\r\n\r\n\"Take me in,\" the man answered breathlessly. \"Harbour me. I am a Boer\r\nspy, straight from the commandos.\"\r\n\r\nMr. Hattingh betrayed the greatest amazement, as if he had never heard\r\nof the possibility of such a thing.\r\n\r\n\"A Boer spy!\" he exclaimed. \"How did you come in?\"\r\n\r\nThe man described the route he had taken, and in an instant Mr.\r\nHattingh, with his intimate knowledge of the actual route employed by\r\nBoers, realised that the man before him was not from the field at all,\r\nbut a National Scout, employed by the British to betray the loyal\r\nBoers--a \"trap,\" in fact, such as were in constant use against their\r\nbrother burghers.\r\n\r\nMr. Hattingh asked him a few more leading questions to satisfy himself\r\nof the true nature of the man's errand, and then, as if suddenly\r\nrecalled to himself, broke out in evident agitation:\r\n\r\n\"But I cannot harbour you, my good fellow. I am _neutral_.\"\r\n\r\n\"Surely you would not have the heart to see me fall into the hands of\r\nthe enemy!\" the man exclaimed.\r\n\r\n\"I am very sorry,\" Mr. Hattingh replied, \"but I dare not take you in.\"\r\n\r\n\"Tell me some news, then,\" he implored. \"Our men are getting hopeless\r\nand desperate, and when we bring them news from town it gives them new\r\ncourage to continue the war.\"\r\n\r\n\"I know of no news to tell you. I am _neutral_,\" Mr. Hattingh answered\r\nfirmly, and the man left him with his mission unaccomplished.\r\n\r\nUnseen himself, Mr. Hattingh watched him depart, and saw him getting\r\ninto a cab, which was evidently waiting for him in the neighbourhood,\r\nand drive rapidly away.\r\n\r\nMr. Hattingh immediately went to his neighbour, Mr. Isaac Haarhoff,\r\nand told him what had happened.\r\n\r\n\"What do you think I ought to do? I am under suspicion without a\r\ndoubt.\"\r\n\r\n\"Report the matter to the authorities at once,\" Mr. Haarhoff answered,\r\nand our friend accepted the advice with alacrity.\r\n\r\nHe mounted his bicycle and rode with all speed to the nearest Charge\r\nOffice, reporting that a Boer spy had been to his house for refuge\r\nthat evening.\r\n\r\n\"Why did you not bring him with you?\" the officer inquired.\r\n\r\n\"I did not know what to do,\" Mr. Hattingh began, when another official\r\nmade his appearance and asked what the matter was.\r\n\r\nThe first related what had occurred, and Mr. Hattingh, keenly watching\r\nthe two men, saw the significant glances they exchanged, and caught\r\nthe whispered:\r\n\r\n\"It is all right.\"\r\n\r\n\"No, old man,\" he thought, \"it is all wrong, and you have been my\r\ndupe.\"\r\n\r\nThe men then turned to him, telling him that if he were visited by a\r\nspy again he was to take him in and report him at the Charge Office.\r\n\r\n\"Right,\" he replied. \"I will do so.\" And on his homeward way he\r\ncongratulated himself with the thought that he had no doubt been\r\nentered on the lists as a \"faithful British subject.\"\r\n\r\nThis incident was followed, as far as he was concerned, by\r\nfar-reaching consequences. Not only was he left with his family in the\r\nundisturbed security of his home-life after that, but he was able to\r\ncarry on his work on the Committee in perfect safety, and when\r\neventually the darkness closed over him in his prisoner's cell, he\r\nfelt assured that this would count in favour of his wife and family.\r\n\r\nMany were the men led by him through the streets of Pretoria to the\r\nspot where the burghers awaited them, countless and valuable the\r\nservices rendered to the Boer commandos, innumerable the acts of\r\nkindness and charity performed by this brave burgher of Transvaal.\r\n\r\nMr. Colin Logan, who gave up an excellent position in the bank, was\r\none of the men escorted out by him in order to join the Boer forces.\r\n\r\nRiding slowly on his bicycle, with Mr. Logan walking beside him, they\r\npassed through a group of military tents, almost touching the soldiers\r\nas they sat around their camp-fires.\r\n\r\nNot a shadow of suspicion could be roused by their calm behaviour, and\r\nthey reached the burghers without any difficulty.\r\n\r\nWhile they were exchanging a few words of greeting, the sudden,\r\nfurious barking of the dogs at the Lunatic Asylum, not far from them,\r\nwarned them of danger, and, taking a hasty leave, the burghers\r\ndisappeared noiselessly into the darkness, and Mr. Hattingh literally\r\ntore home across the veld on his bicycle, clearing holes and jumping\r\nover stones in his mad career. He was able to reach his home just in\r\ntime to be under shelter when the \"curfew\" rang 10 o'clock, the hour\r\nat which all respectable citizens, carrying residential passes, were\r\nsupposed to be indoors.\r\n\r\nWhat eventually became of Mr. Hattingh and the other members of the\r\nCommittee we shall see as our story proceeds.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nCHAPTER XX\r\n\r\nTHANKSGIVING AND HUMILIATION\r\n\r\n\r\nThe documents sent out to General Botha, and referred to in Chapter\r\nXV, were connected with the report of the Consuls, but the very first\r\nthing sent to the commandos by Mrs. van Warmelo was a copy of the\r\nfirst petition, tightly packed in a walnut, one of a handful which she\r\ngave the spy, with instructions not to eat any of them on the road.\r\n\r\nHe also took a verbal message to the effect that though the condition\r\nof the Camps was bad, everything was being done in town to bring about\r\nthe necessary improvements. Influential people were at work to make\r\neverything public in Europe, and the men in the field were urged to be\r\nbrave and steadfast and of good cheer.\r\n\r\nOn July 29th Harmony was visited again by Mr. Willem Botha, bringing\r\nwith him information of a disquieting nature.\r\n\r\nIn some mysterious way he had received a piece of paper from Mr.\r\nGordon Fraser, brother-in-law to President Steyn, and prisoner of war\r\nin the Rest Camp in Pretoria, on which, in a disguised hand, was\r\nwritten a message imploring the Secret Service men to warn President\r\nSteyn and General de Wet that a certain man amongst them, a prominent\r\nofficial, was a traitor in their midst, paid by the enemy to betray\r\ntheir plans before they could be carried out.\r\n\r\nThis information made the conspirators very anxious, for it being full\r\nmoon, there was no prospect of spies coming into town, and in the\r\nmeantime incalculable mischief could be done. Neither was it possible\r\nto send any one out who had not been before and was ignorant of the\r\nroute. The matter had therefore to be left until the next suitable\r\nopportunity came and Mr. Botha went home with a heavy heart.\r\n\r\nUnlike his usual prudent self, Mr. Botha did not immediately destroy\r\nthe slip of paper on which the warning was written, but folded it\r\ncarefully and placed it between the tattered leaves of an old\r\nhymn-book.\r\n\r\nHow he paid for this small indiscretion, the only one of which he was\r\nguilty, with days of anxiety and despair, and very nearly with his\r\nlife, we shall see as our story develops!\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nIn the early days of August the troops encamped around Harmony could,\r\nif they had used their sixth sense, have divined an air of suppressed\r\nexcitement about the place.\r\n\r\nExpectation of some sort evidently charged the atmosphere. Visitors\r\nwere, in fact, expected, for Captain Naudé and his secretary had\r\narranged to come in for the report of the Consul, just before the new\r\nmoon made its appearance, and now a faint crescent of silver in the\r\nheavens warned our heroines that their time was at hand.\r\n\r\nHarmony had been chosen as a place of refuge, as the safest spot in\r\nall Pretoria, with so many troops around it!\r\n\r\nFor several nights in succession a fire was kept going in the kitchen\r\nuntil a late hour, and a plentiful supply of hot water kept in\r\nreadiness for the warm baths which the visitors would so sorely need\r\nafter their difficult and perilous journey.\r\n\r\nStill they did not come, but on the morning of August 4th Mr. Botha\r\npaid an early visit, bringing with him the news that on the previous\r\nnight five spies had reached the town in safety.\r\n\r\nHe did not tell where they were being harboured, it being one of the\r\nlaws of the Secret Committee that names were not to be used\r\nneedlessly, and that the people working for the Committee were not\r\neven to know about one another.\r\n\r\nSo rigorously was this law enforced that from beginning to end the van\r\nWarmelos had dealings with Mr. Botha only, and did not see the four\r\nother members of the Committee, nor even hear their names until----\r\n\r\nThe five spies had not come in as easily as usual. They had\r\npersistently been followed by the searchlights as they neared the\r\ntown, but they were able to get through the barbed-wire enclosure in\r\nsafety and had then separated and gone to their various homes,\r\nunobserved as they thought.\r\n\r\nBut one of them, a young man whom we shall call Harry, who was\r\ndestined to play such a terrible part in the history of the Boer\r\nSecret Service, was followed home by three detectives, two of whom\r\nstationed themselves at the front door and the third at the back.\r\n\r\nFortunately when Harry became aware of his danger, he rushed out at\r\nthe back.\r\n\r\nThe detective, whose name was Moodie, shouted, \"Hands up, or I fire,\"\r\nbut the young man drew his revolver with lightning-like rapidity and,\r\nfiring twice, escaped from town under cover of the darkness.\r\n\r\nThe reported death of the detective caused a great sensation in the\r\ntown next day, and it was not until many months after that we learned\r\nof the fate of the unfortunate man, not death, but mutilation worse\r\nthan death--a ghastly wound below the heart and an amputated leg.\r\n\r\nThis event caused the British to enforce a stricter vigilance, and\r\nmany houses were searched for the other spies, but without success.\r\n\r\nThe excitement in town did not abate for some time, and wherever\r\nHansie went she was told what had taken place by people who would have\r\nbeen surprised indeed to hear that she was in possession of all the\r\ndetails, and even of documents brought in from General Kemp by those\r\nvery spies.\r\n\r\nThe instructions were to see that the information contained in those\r\ndocuments reached the Consuls without their knowing how and when they\r\nhad been brought into town, and for this purpose several copies had\r\nbeen typed and were slipped under the doors of the different\r\nConsulates while the inmates were asleep.\r\n\r\nAny day between August 5th and 10th Captain Naudé said he would come,\r\nand each evening found Harmony prepared to receive him, but on the 9th\r\nMr. Botha brought a note from the gallant Captain saying that he would\r\nbe unable to partake of Mrs. van Warmelo's hospitality that month. A\r\nwoman, whose name was unknown, had conveyed this letter to the Secret\r\nCommittee. It contained no particular news except that August 8th had\r\nbeen celebrated as a day of thanksgiving for our victories, and the\r\n9th, the very day on which the intimation was received in town, would\r\nbe a day of humiliation for our many sins.\r\n\r\nWhen this became known to the \"inner circle,\" private prayer-meetings\r\nwere immediately held in different houses in the town, while the men\r\nin the field held their day of humiliation under the open sky. In this\r\nway we worked together and supported one another spiritually, morally,\r\nand practically, in spite of searchlights and barbed-wire fences.\r\n\r\nThis was the first news received of the Captain's safe return to the\r\ncommandos after that eventful visit in July, and his friends were\r\nthankful to receive it. Another source of thankfulness was the fact\r\nthat he was not coming in that month, for the enemy was on the _qui\r\nvive_ for more spies, and consequently the dangers were multiplying\r\nfor the Boers. The reckless coming in and going out of irresponsible\r\nmen became a source of real danger to the people who harboured them,\r\nand on August 12th Mr. Botha came again to warn Mrs. van Warmelo\r\nagainst having dealings with any spies except those sent by the Secret\r\nCommittee.\r\n\r\n\"You will only find yourselves in jail or over the border,\" he said,\r\n\"which would not be so bad if that were all, but it would ruin our\r\nchances of assisting the Generals.\"\r\n\r\nHe then reported that a young spy had come in on Saturday night and\r\nthat he had been taken to Mrs. General Joubert's house the next\r\nmorning while she was in church. The good lady was anything but\r\npleased, on her return home, to find him there, for she had a houseful\r\nof people, and she was obliged to stow him into a tiny room, where he\r\nsat as still as a mouse, until he went back to commando. Not very\r\ncheerful for him, but a good lesson for the future!\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nFive or six men who tried to escape from town were captured near the\r\nMagaliesbergen and placed in the Rest Camp, so Dame Rumour said at the\r\ntime, but the truth of the story, briefly related, ran thus:\r\n\r\nI have mentioned the nest of the spies in the Skurvebergen not far\r\nfrom Pretoria in the western direction.\r\n\r\nThis \"nest\" had been surprised and taken possession of by the English\r\nwhile five of the spies were in Pretoria, and they, cut off from their\r\nown people as they were, were unable to escape.\r\n\r\nOne or two attempts were made, but the men were fired on and they had\r\nto abandon the idea for the present.\r\n\r\nThe curious part of this story is that these men (one can hardly call\r\nthem spies) were Pretoria men who had escaped to the Skurvebergen for\r\nthe first time only three weeks previously, and had gone backwards and\r\nforwards several times with small necessaries. One of the five, a man\r\nwhose name I cannot mention here, for the sake of what is to follow,\r\nhad been so often, and was so much at home both in Pretoria and the\r\nSkurvebergen, that his dearest friends did not know to which part of\r\nthe country he really belonged!\r\n\r\nWell, he was in a nice predicament now!\r\n\r\nThe house in which he was being harboured, with one of his friends,\r\nwas unfortunately suspect. He could not remain there, neither could he\r\nescape from town.\r\n\r\nSome one came to Harmony in great distress. What was to be done with\r\nthose two men? To what place of refuge could they be moved that night?\r\nThe visitor looked imploringly at Mrs. van Warmelo as if he expected\r\nher to offer Harmony, but she, mindful of Mr. Botha's warning, did\r\nnothing of the kind.\r\n\r\n\"Death is staring them in the face,\" the visitor continued. \"I don't\r\nknow what to do!\"\r\n\r\nHansie, who knew the visitor well and trusted him implicitly, then\r\npleaded with her mother--to no avail, Mrs. van Warmelo remaining\r\nfirmly obdurate, and saying distinctly, for the edification of her\r\nvisitor, \"I have never harboured a spy, and I hope I never shall.\"\r\n\r\nWhen the good man had departed, in sore disappointment, Hansie\r\ngrumbled a good deal and said it was all very fine to assist these\r\nSecret Service men when there was no danger in doing so, but her\r\nmother took no notice of her for the rest of the day, and subsequent\r\nevents proved that she had acted wisely in refusing to harbour men\r\nunknown to her.\r\n\r\nWhat became of them at the time she did not know, and a few weeks\r\nelapsed before the crushing sequel to this escapade became known.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nCHAPTER XXI\r\n\r\nFLIPPIE AND CO.\r\n\r\n\r\n\"Was there no fear of betrayal through the servants at Harmony?\" I\r\nhave often been asked since the war, and this reminds me that a short\r\nintroduction to the other inmates of the property will be necessary\r\nfor the reader's benefit and understanding.\r\n\r\nThe lower portion of Harmony, through which the Aapies river runs, was\r\noccupied by Italian gardeners, who employed a varying number of Kaffir\r\nlabourers in the extensive fruit and vegetable gardens.\r\n\r\nThe upper part, on which the house stood, was entirely under Mrs. van\r\nWarmelo's management. No white servants were kept, the domestic staff\r\nconsisting of native gardeners, a stable-boy, and a house-boy, neither\r\nwas there a single female domestic, either white or black, on the\r\nplace.\r\n\r\nOne day a small white son of the soil presented himself and asked for\r\nwork.\r\n\r\nMrs. van Warmelo looked him up and down and said she did not farm with\r\nchildren.\r\n\r\n\"What is your name?\" Hansie asked.\r\n\r\nThere was no answer, and then she noticed that the little stranger was\r\nstaring straight in front of him, while two great tears rolled slowly\r\ndown his cheeks.\r\n\r\nThis touched her, and she repeated her question persuasively.\r\n\r\n\"Flippie,\" he answered brokenly.\r\n\r\n\"Where is your mother?\"\r\n\r\n\"Dead.\"\r\n\r\n\"And your father?\"\r\n\r\n\"Fighting, with five sons.\"\r\n\r\nThen Hansie felt inclined to take him in her arms and kiss him for his\r\ndead mother and brave father and brothers.\r\n\r\nShe turned to her mother and whispered:\r\n\r\n\"Let Flippie stay. Make some agreement with him and let us try him as\r\nerrand-boy or general help in the house and garden.\"\r\n\r\nMrs. van Warmelo nodded and turned again to him. The conversation\r\nwhich passed between them is not recorded in Hansie's diary, but\r\nFlippie stayed, and within a week the Harmonites wondered how they had\r\nmanaged to exist without him for so long.\r\n\r\nHe was as sharp as a needle, and, though only thirteen years of age,\r\nhe proved to be a perfect \"man\" of business, rising early every day to\r\ngo to the morning market and gardening with surprising energy and\r\nambition.\r\n\r\nThis pleased Mrs. van Warmelo so much that she gave him a plot of\r\nground to cultivate for himself, and he immediately set to work to\r\nplant vegetables, spending every spare moment of the day in _his_\r\ngarden.\r\n\r\nWhen Hansie laughingly said that she hoped to be his first customer,\r\nhe protested vehemently against the idea of selling anything to her,\r\nand time showed that he meant to keep his word.\r\n\r\nAll he had was given away with large-hearted generosity and when he\r\nhad nothing more to give, he _took_ all he required from other people!\r\n\r\nYes, I am afraid Flippie's ideas of honesty were curious in the\r\nextreme. He had no idea of \"mine and thine,\" as we say in Dutch.[2]\r\n\r\nArguments were of no avail, for Flippie was the scornfullest little\r\nboy I ever came across and knew everything better than his superiors.\r\n\r\nHansie set to work to study him, but found it necessary to reconstruct\r\nher ideas of him every day. Flippie baffled her at every turn.\r\n\r\nOne day she thought he would turn out to be a genius, the next she\r\ndeclared positively that he would come to the gallows, and the third\r\nshe wondered helplessly whether he could by any chance do both.\r\n\r\nFlippie could lie and deceive with the most angelic face and could\r\nmelt into tears on the least provocation or whenever it suited his\r\nbook to do so.\r\n\r\nA phrenologist would have delighted in the study of that remarkable\r\nhead.\r\n\r\nThe forehead receded and went on receding until there was nothing left\r\nof it but a great lump at the back of the head, and the little nose\r\ntilted up at one in the most impertinent manner, which was given the\r\nlie to by the drooping corners of the sensitive mouth. What delighted\r\none most was the sunny temperament, the ringing, infectious laugh, the\r\ncheery whistle.\r\n\r\nSurely Flippie was the merriest and one of the most lovable little\r\nsouls one could find anywhere, and his ruling virtue always seemed to\r\nbe his unswerving loyalty and constant fidelity.\r\n\r\nHis heart seemed to be torn between his sense of duty to the fearful\r\nand wonderful old grandmother, who had taken the place of his dead\r\nmother in what bringing-up he ever had, and his sense of gratitude to\r\nhis protectors at Harmony.\r\n\r\nMy story would not be complete without a short sketch of this\r\ngrandmother, for she played a part of some importance in the events\r\nrecorded here, and was at all times a sore trial to the inmates of\r\nHarmony.\r\n\r\nWe have no proof, but we _think_ that Flippie's grandmother had a hand\r\nin the undoing of the security and peace which reigned supreme at\r\nHarmony before she came upon the scene.\r\n\r\nNot that she ever lived on the property; no, her home was a small\r\ntent, one of a number which had been erected some little distance to\r\nthe south of Harmony on Avondale, on the property of Mr. Christian\r\nJoubert, on the way to the \"Fountains.\"\r\n\r\nThese tents were largely occupied by \"handsuppers\" and their families,\r\namongst whom were found a few Judas-Boers--Boers of the most dangerous\r\ntype. That the life of the loyal Boers in their midst was anything but\r\na bed of roses can very well be imagined, and we know that bitterness\r\nand strife reigned supreme, for it was an open secret that renegades,\r\nhirelings of the enemy, held their dreaded sway over the inmates of\r\nthat small colony.\r\n\r\nFlippie and his grandmother did not belong to that degraded set, but\r\nthe one was a thoughtless child and the other an exceedingly\r\nsuspicious and inquisitive old woman, and that they were both used as\r\nunsuspecting tools by their more designing fellows I have not a shadow\r\nof doubt.\r\n\r\nMrs. van Warmelo and Hansie soon gave the old granny the name of\r\n\"Um-Ah,\" for her tongue had been paralysed by a \"stroke\" twenty years\r\nback, and \"Um-Ah,\" was all she was ever heard to say. It stood for yes\r\nand no and for every imaginable question, being only varied by the\r\ntone of voice in which it was said. Sometimes, when she became excited\r\nor impatient, it was fired off four or five times in quick succession.\r\n\r\nThis formidable old dame ruled Flippie with a rod of iron,\r\nappropriating the whole of his small salary every month and refusing\r\nto give him so much as a sixpence. When Mrs. van Warmelo found this\r\nout she stealthily added half a crown to his earnings for his own use,\r\nand this the generous lad regularly spent on sweets, cakes, and\r\ngingerbeer for his granny!\r\n\r\nEven the chocolates and other good things to which kind-hearted\r\nsoldiers treated him were laid as \"trophies of the war\" at his\r\ngranny's feet, after he had vainly tried to induce Hansie to partake\r\nof them.\r\n\r\n\"Um-Ah\" had an inconvenient way of dropping in at Harmony at all hours\r\nof the day, ostensibly to see if Flippie was doing his work well, but\r\nin reality to keep a watchful eye on the other inmates. She seemed to\r\nbe always looking for something, and the time was soon to come when\r\nthis unpleasant propensity should become a source of real danger to\r\nthe van Warmelos.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nBesides Flippie, there were two other permanent members on the\r\ndomestic staff--a gigantic native named Paulus, and a young Zulu who\r\nwent by the name of \"Gentleman Jim\" on account of his dandified\r\nappearance and the aristocratic \"drawl\" affected by him. American\r\ndarkies say, \"Dere's some folk dat is slow but shua, and some dar is\r\ndat's _jes' slow!_\" Well, Gentleman Jim was \"jes' slow.\" He was the\r\nonly one on the premises who steadfastly refused to speak one word of\r\nDutch, although he perfectly understood everything said to him.\r\n\r\nThe result was that the dialogues carried on between mistresses and\r\nservant were in Dutch on one side and in English on the other, it\r\nbeing one of the rules at Harmony to address all natives either in\r\ntheir own tongue or in Dutch, never in English.\r\n\r\nI may say here that even at the present time it is customary with many\r\nDutch South Africans to employ no English-speaking natives, but rather\r\nto engage the \"raw\" material, i.e. those speaking neither Dutch nor\r\nEnglish, because they are, in nine cases out of ten, still unspoilt by\r\ncivilisation and have lost none of the awe and respect with which\r\nthey, in their native state, regard the white man.\r\n\r\nGentleman Jim was the only exception ever known at Harmony, and there\r\nwas no lack of respect in _his_ manner; on the contrary, the flourish\r\nwith which he took off his hat and his slow and dignified, \"Good\r\nmorning, little missie,\" were well worth seeing and a constant source\r\nof amusement to all.\r\n\r\nPaulus, that magnificent specimen of manhood in its natural state, was\r\nby no means the least remarkable of the trio, and there was something\r\ntragic too about his rugged personality.\r\n\r\nHe had been taken by the English in the neighbourhood of Pretoria and\r\nbrought into town on the false suspicion of having been employed by\r\nthe Boers as a spy.\r\n\r\nThere being nothing found against him in proof of this, he was set\r\nfree in town and allowed to seek employment, but, though he pleaded\r\nhard, he could not obtain permission to return to his home, where wife\r\nand children had been left in complete uncertainty as to his fate.\r\n\r\nThis native was a converted heathen, semi-civilised, but with the\r\nnoblest instincts within him developed on natural lines to a\r\nremarkable degree. I have often longed to meet the missionary in whose\r\nhands the moulding of this rare product of nature had been carried out\r\nwith so much success. Patience, faith, devotion, and an awe amounting\r\nto veneration for his white mistresses were among the most striking\r\nqualities Paulus possessed.\r\n\r\nThere were hundreds of his stamp on the farms all over the country,\r\nnatives brought up by the Dutch farmers and trained as useful servants\r\nin their homes and in the fields, but it was rare indeed for one of\r\nthem to find his way into the towns. Fate had been unkind in\r\nseparating him from his dear ones for so many months, and Paulus went\r\nthrough days of melancholy and despair.\r\n\r\nOne day, when Hansie heard him sigh more heavily than usual, she\r\nasked:\r\n\r\n\"Are you thinking of your wife and children, Paulus?\"\r\n\r\n\"Oh yes, Nonnie, I am always thinking of them, but I was thinking also\r\nhow sad it was to forget all my learning. I was getting on so well\r\nwith my reading and writing, and now I find it so hard to go on by\r\nmyself.\"\r\n\r\n\"Oh, if that is all, Paulus,\" Hansie said cheerfully, \"I can help you\r\na lot. Bring me your books this evening and let me hear you read.\"\r\n\r\nThe poor fellow's look of gratitude was touching to behold. He needed\r\nno second invitation, and appeared that evening in his Sunday suit,\r\nwith a new shirt on, and his hands and face scrubbed with soap and\r\nwater until they shone like polished ebony.\r\n\r\nA Dutch Bible, a book of hymns and psalms, and a small spelling-book\r\nwere all he possessed, but Hansie found him further advanced than she\r\nhad expected, and wonderfully intelligent, and she soon added a few\r\nsimple reading-books to his small store.\r\n\r\nNow and then she instructed him for a short hour, and it was a\r\npleasure to see the change which came over him within a few weeks.\r\nLearning became the joy of his life, and in his ambition to get on he\r\nforgot much of his anxiety and distress at the enforced separation\r\nfrom his wife and children.\r\n\r\nOne evening when Hansie had gone into the kitchen to look over his\r\nwork, there was a sudden fumbling at the door and \"Gentleman Jim\"\r\nstumbled in with a campstool under one arm and a slate and Bible, an\r\nEnglish one, under the other.\r\n\r\n\"Coming to learn too, little missie,\" he said, grinning from ear to\r\near and settling himself comfortably on the stool.\r\n\r\nPaulus bent over his writing and said never a word. Hansie nodded\r\nuncomfortably.\r\n\r\nThat this self-invited pupil was unwelcome was evident, but he\r\nhimself seemed serenely unconscious of the fact.\r\n\r\nThere was no love lost between Paulus and \"Gentleman Jim\"--not that\r\nthere had ever been an open rupture, but Paulus despised the dandified\r\nZulu, and \"Jim\" looked down (figuratively speaking, for he was quite a\r\nfoot shorter in stature) on Paulus's rugged simplicity.\r\n\r\nThey systematically ignored one another, and were only heard to\r\nexchange brief sentences, in English from Jim and in Dutch from\r\nPaulus, when necessity compelled them to address one another, for Jim\r\ncould speak no Sesuto and Paulus knew neither Zulu nor English.\r\n\r\nTheir antipathy to one another was so marked, in fact, that \"Gentleman\r\nJim\" refused to have his meals with Paulus and had built a small\r\nkitchen apart for himself, under one of the big willows. On this\r\noccasion Hansie did not feel pleased at \"Jim's\" appearance either, for\r\nit was one thing to teach the self-contained and reverent Sesuto, and\r\nquite another to instruct the flippant \"Gentleman Jim.\"\r\n\r\nBut Hansie did not know what to say and asked Jim to let her hear him\r\nread. He began laboriously, floundering hopelessly over the long\r\nwords.\r\n\r\n\"Fruits, meat _and_ repentance,\"[3] he read with painful uncertainty,\r\nwhen Hansie interrupted him with a laugh:\r\n\r\n\"That will do, Jim; you are wonderful, and you need not come again.\"\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nOther natives on the premises were of the shiftless, wandering type,\r\nchanging hands continually, and many were the instances of their\r\nsimplicity, not to say rank stupidity.\r\n\r\nOn one occasion a \"raw\" Kaffir, on being ordered to take a heavily\r\nladen wheelbarrow from one part of the garden to the other, was found\r\nhalf an hour later, still in the same place, vainly trying to place\r\nthe wheelbarrow on his head!\r\n\r\nI believe it was the same native who, when told to empty the contents\r\nof a waste-paper basket on a burning heap of rubbish in the garden,\r\nreturned without the basket, and when asked what he had done with it,\r\npointed, with an air of injured surprise, to its smouldering remains\r\non the heap of rubbish.\r\n\r\nIndeed, the patience of the housewife was often sorely tried. A\r\nrelative of Mrs. van Warmelo's coming into the kitchen one morning,\r\nfound one of these new \"hands\" before the stove in a sea of hot water,\r\ndesperately trying to fill a small kettle _by the spout_, from a large\r\none!\r\n\r\nFOOTNOTES:\r\n\r\n[Footnote 2: Mÿn en dÿn.]\r\n\r\n[Footnote 3: \"Fruits meet for repentance.\"]\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nCHAPTER XXII\r\n\r\nTHE SECRET RAILWAY TIME-TABLE\r\n\r\n\r\nThank God for the early rains!\r\n\r\nAfter the long winter months, dry and dusty, terrific storms pass over\r\nthe country, torrents of rain, lashing hailstones. The beautiful world\r\nis washed clean, and everywhere the moist brown earth gives promise of\r\na plentiful supply of fresh young grass, which means food for the\r\nweary underfed horses on commando, and new life, new hopes to the men.\r\n\r\nOnly the middle of August and already the first summer rains are\r\nfalling!\r\n\r\nThank God again!\r\n\r\nThe cruel strain of anxious thought for our heroes in the field can be\r\nrelaxed for a moment, and we turn our energies with redoubled vigour\r\nand strengthened faith to the task at our hand. Heaven knows that we\r\nshall require all the courage we possess to face the impending\r\ndisasters, of which the shadows have already fallen on our hearts.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nOne morning the disconcerting news reached Harmony that Mrs. Naudé's\r\nhouse had been surrounded by armed soldiers at break of day and that\r\nshe had been taken away with her child, in a waggon, no one knew\r\nwhere.\r\n\r\nThe empty house was being closely watched.\r\n\r\nDid the enemy really think that the sagacious Captain of the Secret\r\nService would walk into the trap some fine evening, there to meet with\r\ncertain destruction? Evidently, for the house was guarded night and\r\nday.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nAugust 5th brought new sensation and fresh material for thought and\r\nconversation.\r\n\r\nThere had been a brief lull in the adventures, and all were of opinion\r\nthat as long as this spell of vigilance lasted no spies would enter\r\nthe town. It therefore came as a surprise when our little friend with\r\nthe walking-stick was to be seen coming up the garden path of Harmony,\r\nwearing that air of happy mystery so familiar to his fellow-workers.\r\n\r\nThe spies had come at last, not the Captain himself, but his\r\nsecretary, Mr. Greyling, with two other men named Nel and Els, on an\r\nimportant and extremely dangerous mission.\r\n\r\nThey had arrived too late to be brought out to Harmony, but they were\r\nstaying with Mrs. Joubert, and, if they were successful in obtaining\r\nthe help they required, their intention was to leave again that night.\r\n\r\nAt this point in the visitor's narrative, Hansie, who had been engaged\r\nin making butter, came in with an expectant look. Mr. Botha motioned\r\nher to draw nearer, and in hurried whispers, although there was no one\r\nin the room but themselves, told them that these men had been sent to\r\nprocure a copy of the secret railway time-table, an official book\r\ncontaining full detailed information of the military trains, provision\r\nand ammunition--trains, in fact, laden with clothing and everything\r\nrequired by the military. The women looked at one another and smiled\r\nat the audacity of the request. They had never heard of such a\r\ntime-table and might as well have been asked to send the moon to the\r\nfront.\r\n\r\nBut their visitor was very grave.\r\n\r\nThis was no child's play, but a very serious matter, for a great deal\r\ndepended on the securing of that book.\r\n\r\nThe horses on commando were in a very poor condition after the hard\r\nwinter, and the men had no clothes to speak of. So it was absolutely\r\nnecessary that they should have their stock reinforced by the capture\r\nof some of the enemy's trains.\r\n\r\nMrs. van Warmelo promised to do her best, but gave her visitor little\r\nhope of success.\r\n\r\nSoon after he left, a carriage drove up with Mrs. Joubert, her son\r\n\"Jannie,\" and her married daughter, Mrs. Malan.\r\n\r\nTheir mission was the same as Mr. Botha's, the secret time-table, and\r\nMr. Jannie, as he drew Hansie aside, urged her to do all in her power\r\nto procure a copy of this valuable book. The same ground was gone\r\nover, with the same result, \"We can but try.\" That whole morning was\r\nspent in seeing different people, trusted friends, on the subject, and\r\neverywhere Hansie and her mother were met with the same objections.\r\nMost people had never heard of this time-table, and those who knew of\r\nits existence, were convinced that it would be quite impossible to get\r\na sight of it, as it was in the hands of officials only.\r\n\r\nThe afternoon again was spent in roaming disconsolately about the\r\nstreets of Pretoria, weary and discouraged.\r\n\r\nSuddenly Hansie exclaimed:\r\n\r\n\"Oh mamma, how stupid we have been! Why, we never thought of D. He is\r\nthe only one who can help us. Let us go to him.\"\r\n\r\nMrs. van Warmelo's tired face beamed at her daughter.\r\n\r\n\"_Of course_, but I dare not go to him direct--that would be\r\nindiscreet indeed. Let us send some one for him.\"\r\n\r\n\"F.?\" Hansie suggested.\r\n\r\n\"Yes, he would do.\"\r\n\r\nThey were walking rapidly to an office on Church Square, when they met\r\nthe very man they were in search of.\r\n\r\n\"This is wonderful!\" Hansie exclaimed. \"We were just going to ask F.\r\nto call on you, as we have a great request to make.\"\r\n\r\nTalking in rapid whispers, the trio walked across the Square. The\r\nman's face was inscrutable at first, but his curt and business-like\r\nway soon gave place to a look of thoughtful contemplation.\r\n\r\n\"This is about the most unheard-of request that has ever been made to\r\nme. I know the book exists, but I have never seen it--I shall have to\r\nthink about this. When must you have it?\"\r\n\r\n\"Before six o'clock this evening,\" Hansie answered.\r\n\r\n\"Will you leave me now?\" he said. \"I must think. If by any chance I am\r\nable to procure a copy, you will find it under your front door between\r\n5 and 6 o'clock.\"\r\n\r\nWell satisfied, the two ladies proceeded on their way home, when they\r\nwere met by Consul Nieuwenhuis, who invited them to have tea with him\r\nat Frascati's.\r\n\r\nHansie looked at her mother.\r\n\r\n\"I think we have earned it--don't you?\"\r\n\r\nMrs. van Warmelo nodded and laughed.\r\n\r\nArrived at Frascati's they found a regular gathering of the Consuls,\r\ngaily chatting while they partook of the good things set before them.\r\n\r\n\"Oh, mother!\" Hansie said regretfully, when they had parted from their\r\nfriends. \"What a pity we could not tell them anything! How they would\r\nhave enjoyed sharing our sensations! I can tear the very hair out of\r\nmy head at having to keep all these adventures to myself!\"\r\n\r\nThey then went to Mrs. Joubert's house to tell the spies that there\r\nwas just a chance that one of the people they had seen that day would\r\nget the time-table for them.\r\n\r\nMrs. van Warmelo, with her usual prudent forethought, asked to see Mr.\r\nGreyling only, knowing that it was safer to deal with one man than\r\nwith several, so she was shown into the drawing-room while he was\r\nbeing brought from some unknown back region, with much caution and\r\nbolting of doors and drawing of blinds. It was amusing, when he\r\nentered the room, to see him going straight up to Mrs. Joubert and\r\nshaking her heartily by the hand. As a matter of fact, these\r\nenterprising young men enjoyed her hospitality, slept under her roof,\r\nand partook of the food she secretly prepared for them without ever\r\nsetting eyes on their hostess.\r\n\r\nShe was not supposed to know of their existence, and as she was close\r\nand silent as the grave, no one ever got anything in the way of\r\ninformation out of her.\r\n\r\nIt was good to see Mr. Greyling again.\r\n\r\nHe said that Captain Naudé was with General Botha near the Middelburg\r\nline and had been prevented from coming into town that month.\r\n\r\nVery little fighting was being done on account of the poor condition\r\nof their horses after the severe winter. The men were in splendid\r\nhealth, and the same spirit of determination and courage which had\r\nalways characterised them possessed them still.\r\n\r\nMr. Greyling and his comrades had come in under some difficulties.\r\nThey had been escorted on horseback as far as Eerste Fabrieken on the\r\nNorth-east Railway, when they had nearly run into the enemy's lines.\r\nThey altered their course and rode to Irene, hiding themselves and\r\nfastening their horses in a clump of thorn trees, where they remained\r\nuntil nightfall.\r\n\r\nOn their way to Pretoria in the darkness, Mr. Greyling's horse fell\r\ninto a hole, throwing him out of the saddle, but his foot caught in\r\nthe stirrup and he was dragged about forty yards, bruising his head\r\nand severely wrenching his ankle. Although by no means fit for the\r\njourney, he was determined to go back that night, because the friends\r\nwho were waiting for him with his horse did so at the utmost risk of\r\ntheir lives. The best news he brought was that the Boers had retaken\r\nthe Skurvebergen and that it was again the centre of the Secret\r\nService. Three of the Boers had fallen there during the fight.\r\n\r\nAlthough he fully appreciated the obstacles in the way of procuring a\r\ntime-table, he said he felt he could hardly go back to the commandos\r\nwithout it. His instructions had been very explicit.\r\n\r\nWhether she found the time-table at Harmony or not, Hansie\r\npromised to come back that evening, with the European and Colonial\r\nnewspaper-cuttings, so eagerly sought after by the men on commando.\r\n\r\nArrived at Harmony at about 5.15, Hansie could conceal her impatience\r\nno longer, but, running up the garden-path, she threw open the front\r\ndoor with a flourish, and behold, a small flat parcel on the floor, a\r\nbook wrapped carelessly in a bit of white paper! The secret\r\ntime-table!\r\n\r\nShe only had it in her hands for a moment, but one thing she will ever\r\nremember, the slate-coloured cover and the thick red letters heavily\r\nscored:\r\n\r\n _For the use of officers and officials only._\r\n\r\nThe excited women looked at it as if fascinated, turning the leaves\r\nover slowly and murmuring blessings on _his_ head.\r\n\r\n\"Look here,\" Mrs. van Warmelo whispered, \"here we have the meanings of\r\nthe different signals, and here the different engine-whistles are\r\nexplained. Every 'toot' has a meaning, Hansie----\" But Hansie had\r\nflown to her room to don her cycling dress, and was soon on her way,\r\nguarded by her faithful dog. On reaching her destination she was again\r\nshown into the drawing-room, but Mrs. Joubert came to her and asked in\r\na whisper whether she would not like to go to _the_ room.\r\n\r\nNeed I say that she jumped at the suggestion?\r\n\r\nAway with caution, to the winds with prudence and reflection! Was not\r\nthe mother safe at Harmony and her wise counsels forgotten?\r\n\r\nHansie was led silently through mysterious corridors into the open\r\nback-yard, by a mute figure in black.\r\n\r\nThis figure pointed to a door and disappeared, and at the same time\r\nanother figure rose from Hansie knew not where, and stood sentinel\r\nover the gate leading into the street.\r\n\r\nShe ran up the steps and rapped smartly at the door, turning the\r\nhandle after a moment and walking in, to the evident consternation of\r\nthe three young men inside. There was a general scuffle, followed by a\r\nlaugh of relief, when her figure became visible through the heavy\r\nclouds of smoke which filled the room.\r\n\r\nMr. Greyling came forward to meet her and introduced the other men,\r\nwho shook her hand until it ached.\r\n\r\nIt was quite evident that the sight of a young lady was a wonderful\r\nand most welcome thing to them.\r\n\r\nHansie took Mr. Greyling aside and handed him the packet with strict\r\ninjunctions not to mention her name on commando, for it was a\r\nwell-known fact that there were traitors in the field, who lost no\r\nopportunity of conveying information to the British. She did not tell\r\nhim how the book had come into her possession, although his surprise\r\nand curiosity were plainly visible, and the worst that could have\r\nhappened, had he fallen into the hands of the enemy and turned King's\r\nevidence, would have been the betrayal of her name.\r\n\r\nThe other men were clamouring for a hearing, so she turned to them\r\nand inspected the huge brown-paper parcels containing clothing, etc.,\r\nto which they drew her attention and which they were about to convey\r\nto the commandos.\r\n\r\nOne of them, with a look of comical despair, was shaking his head,\r\nwhile he counted the parcels on his fingers. The other showed Hansie\r\nhow impossible it was for him to fasten his coat and waistcoat, for he\r\nhad on three woollen shirts and three pairs of trousers, of different\r\nsizes. So had the other two, and Hansie could not refrain from\r\nexpressing her amazement at their being so heavily laden on an\r\nexpedition so perilous.\r\n\r\nBut, in high spirits, they laughed at her fears.\r\n\r\nThey had done the same thing before. One said it was his seventh\r\nvisit, another said it was his third, and they so evidently enjoyed\r\ntheir adventures that one felt they were to be envied rather than\r\npitied.\r\n\r\nThey parted in fun and high good-humour, but Hansie's heart was wrung\r\nwith many a pang, and many a deep and earnest prayer for their\r\nprotection was sent up by her that night.\r\n\r\n\"I wish you could have seen that room, mother,\" Hansie exclaimed as\r\nthey sat in their cosy dining-room, discussing the events of the day.\r\n\"It was filled with so much smoke that I could hardly breathe, and it\r\nwas littered with papers and cups and plates. They wanted me to sit\r\ndown and chat with them.\"\r\n\r\n\"I am surprised you did not,\" her mother retorted.\r\n\r\n\"Well, you see, I had no lamp and I was afraid I should be arrested,\r\nand besides, you would have been terrified to death, thinking I was in\r\nthe hands of the English with that precious time-table.\"\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nCHAPTER XXIII\r\n\r\nSYSTEM EMPLOYED BY THE SECRET COMMITTEE\r\n\r\n\r\nMr. Willem Bosch, a cripple, unable to take active work upon himself,\r\nacted as Secretary to the Committee, Mr. Els was old and infirm, and\r\nMr. Botha, as we have heard, had been struck by lightning and was\r\nfrequently prostrate with headaches of an intensely severe nature.\r\n\r\nBut for these infirmities these men would have been on commando with\r\ntheir brother burghers.\r\n\r\nThe wider circle of conspirators consisted of ten or twelve men and\r\nwomen, who carried out the instructions of the Committee, but in no\r\ncase attended their meetings or conferred with them in the presence of\r\nthe spies from the field.\r\n\r\nTheir work chiefly consisted in finding out men anxious to escape from\r\ntown and ignorant of the way to go about it--an exceedingly difficult\r\nand dangerous task, with so many National Scouts and other traitors in\r\ntheir midst.\r\n\r\nIn order to protect themselves from the danger of being led into a\r\ntrap, the following precautions were taken by the Committee and\r\nstrictly carried out by their fellow-workers:\r\n\r\nWhen a man was found anxious to join the Boers, he was instructed,\r\nunder the most binding injunctions to secrecy, to keep himself in\r\nreadiness to depart at a given moment, on the shortest possible\r\nnotice. The arrival of an escort from commando was then awaited.\r\n\r\nThey did not have long to wait, as two or three times a week, without\r\nfail, a small escort of armed men was to be found at a certain spot in\r\nthe vicinity of the capital, while one of their number was sent into\r\ntown to inform the Committee of the fact.\r\n\r\nThe fugitive was then instructed to walk slowly in a certain street,\r\nfrom one point to another at a given hour. Here he was met by a man\r\nunknown to him, usually one of the four, who signed to him to follow\r\nhim.\r\n\r\nHe was not allowed to speak to or follow his leader too closely. It\r\nwas not known to him beforehand whether his destination lay north,\r\nsouth, east, or west. He had but to follow and to find himself, as\r\ndarkness fell, in the hands of the armed burghers.\r\n\r\nThe men in town were unarmed. It was one of the first rules of the\r\nCommittee that no spy entering the town should carry arms of any\r\ndescription, this rule having been made to safeguard them from death\r\nin the event of their being taken by the enemy.\r\n\r\nToo often was this precaution disregarded by young and hot-headed\r\nspies, who took the risk upon themselves, preferring death to falling\r\ninto the hands of the English.\r\n\r\nCaptain Naudé's case was recognised by the Committee as an exception\r\nwhen once it became known to them that a heavy price had been set on\r\nhis head.\r\n\r\nIncidentally I may remark here that this sum was known, during the\r\nearly part of the war, to be £500 and that it was gradually increased\r\nto £1,500, as the Captain became more notorious for the daring nature\r\nof his enterprises. He was told by an English officer; after the war,\r\nthat the British had spent over £9,000 in the vain attempt to capture\r\nhim. This statement may, or may not, have been correct, but certain it\r\nis that nothing was left undone to put an end to his activities,\r\nnumbers of men and women being employed, under liberal payment, to\r\ntrap him when he visited Pretoria.\r\n\r\nIn the field, too, his life was known to be even more precarious than\r\nin town, for many were the hirelings surrounding him, watching their\r\nchances to capture him and hand him, dead or living, into the power of\r\nhis foes.\r\n\r\nIt was therefore an understood thing that Captain Naudé should at all\r\ntimes be armed, heavily armed, in the field and when he came to town.\r\n\r\nNot so the Secret Committee. What might be his only safeguard would,\r\nin the event of their arrest, prove to be their undoing, and this they\r\nfully realised as they remonstrated, not once, but many times, with\r\nthe young spies who worked for them.\r\n\r\nThe violation of this rule, which they wished to see enforced so\r\nrigorously, was sometimes followed by most terrible consequences.\r\n\r\nThat this brave band of earnest men should have continued their work\r\nso long, beset, as they were, with a thousand dangers and\r\ndifficulties, is a marvel indeed. With so much treachery in the air,\r\nit is a wonder to us still that they were able to carry out their\r\ndaring enterprise with so much success and to escape detection for so\r\nlong.\r\n\r\nBut they were prudent and cautious, they knew and trusted one another,\r\nand they observed, with conscientious thoroughness, the unwritten\r\nmotto of the Committee:\r\n\r\n\"Think quickly, act firmly, calmly, prudently, without fear. Speak as\r\nlittle as possible.\"\r\n\r\nTerrible were the experiences of some of the men on their secret\r\nvisits to the town.\r\n\r\nCaptain Naudé, arriving one night at the house of his friend Mr.\r\nHattingh (the spies naturally did not take shelter in their own\r\nhomes), was informed that his mother lay dangerously ill in her house\r\nclose by. It was feared that she would not recover. In the shadows\r\nwhich enveloped her she seemed to have forgotten all about the war,\r\nand her only cry was for him, her son.\r\n\r\nWhat was he to do? His mother was surrounded by nurses, and the house\r\nwas filled with relatives and friends.\r\n\r\nAs Captain of the Secret Service, his name was too well known. He\r\ncould not show himself at such a time, when he had every reason to\r\nbelieve that the enemy was watching him with extra vigilance.\r\n\r\nThe next news, while he was still in hopeless deliberation, was that\r\nhis mother had passed away.\r\n\r\nIt needs a strong man's most powerful self-control to \"act firmly,\r\ncalmly, prudently,\" at such a time, and yet even then he restrained\r\nthe impulse to go to her.\r\n\r\nOf what avail to kiss that icy brow?\r\n\r\nNext day, from his hiding-place behind the window curtain, he watched\r\nhis mother's funeral procession, passing by.\r\n\r\nHis comrade, Johannes Coetzee, nicknamed Baden-Powell, the man who had\r\nleft the town with him on his second expedition, once had a miraculous\r\nescape from death.\r\n\r\nHe was leaving for commando with a bag containing clothes, a number of\r\nMauser cartridges which the Committee in town had collected by\r\ndegrees, when he was taken prisoner by the enemy just as he was\r\nnearing the wire enclosure.\r\n\r\nHe was immediately taken to the Commandant, who examined the bundle\r\ncontaining the contraband articles, and ordered him to be escorted to\r\nanother Department. Of his guilt, proof positive had been found, but\r\nthis fact was not conveyed to the armed soldier who was about to\r\nescort him to his doom.\r\n\r\nOn their way, he knew not where, Coetzee pleaded with the guard to\r\nrelease him.\r\n\r\n\"I have been taken under false pretences,\" he said. \"I am innocent, an\r\nemployee at the Lunatic Asylum. If you will escort me over the railway\r\nline, I will pay you.\"\r\n\r\n\"How much money have you?\" the man asked.\r\n\r\nCoetzee took some silver from his pocket, counted it and said:\r\n\r\n\"I have only thirteen shillings.\"\r\n\r\n\"That will do,\" his guard replied, and conducted him in safety to the\r\nasylum, in the vicinity of which he found his tethered horse, still\r\nwaiting for his return, the soldier himself holding his horse and\r\nassisting him to mount with the bag containing the ammunition.\r\n\r\nDisregard for wise counsel from older men, head-strong self-will, and\r\na sheer indifference to death and danger were the causes of much\r\ndisaster in those days.\r\n\r\nOn the other hand, recklessness and the very disregard for death\r\nmentioned above brought more than one man safely through the fierce\r\nfires of adversity, as we shall see in the tragic and stirring events\r\nto be recorded in this and the next chapter.\r\n\r\nOne there was amongst the spies, noted for his extraordinary bravery,\r\na hero of the rarest type, of whom we can only speak with bated breath\r\nand thrilling hearts. In the brief record of his heroic life--and\r\nstill more heroic death--we have a rich inheritance.\r\n\r\nAdolph Krause was his name, a man still young, a married man. He was a\r\nGerman by birth, but a full burgher of the State for which he\r\nsacrificed his noble life.\r\n\r\nThe first time Krause had left the capital he had been escorted out,\r\nwith eight other Germans, by Mr. Willem Botha, while Captain Naudé\r\nconducted seven or eight young Boers to the freedom of the veld.\r\n\r\nThere had been no adventures then.\r\n\r\nSubsequently, in and out he came and went, with the greatest\r\nregularity, and as often as twice a week he would leave the town with\r\nlarge numbers of Boers and Germans, eager to join the burgher forces\r\nin the field. His services became more and more valuable.\r\n\r\nOne evening when, after two days' rest in town, he was again preparing\r\nto depart for the commandos, his friend Willem Botha called to escort\r\nhim through the town, as had been previously arranged.\r\n\r\nMr. Botha's house was in Proes Street between van der Walt and Market\r\nStreets, while not far away his trusted friend and confederate Mr.\r\nHocke lived, a man who rendered such innumerable services to the\r\nBoers that his name must not be forgotten here.\r\n\r\nThese two men met at Mr. Krause's house and found him ready to depart.\r\n\r\nAlthough a man of slender build, he had now attained to such gigantic\r\nproportions that his friends could scarce believe their eyes, and,\r\nincredible as it may seem, the following is a full and accurate\r\ndescription of what he had about his person that memorable night:\r\n\r\nTwo pairs of trousers; two shirts; two full Mauser bandoliers over his\r\nshoulders and crossed over his breast; a woollen jersey; a thick coat;\r\na long Mauser gun thrust into one trouser-leg; a German revolver\r\nbelonging to Mr. Hocke; his own revolver, and a bag of about two feet\r\nin length, containing Mauser ammunition, which had been buried by Mrs.\r\nBotha and was now going \"to the front\"; boots, soap, washing soda,\r\ncotton, and a number of other small articles, which had been ordered\r\nby the women on commando--that unknown band of heroic women, fleeing\r\nnorth, south, east, and west with their men, for whom they cooked and\r\nsewed and prayed throughout the long years of the war.\r\n\r\nKrause had been \"shopping\" in town for these brave sisters in the\r\nfield, and I am sure his thoughts that night were not of fear for the\r\nperils he was about to face, but of satisfaction and pleasurable\r\nanticipation of the joy his arrival at commando would occasion the\r\nwomen at the front.\r\n\r\nWould that one of their undaunted band could be induced to give the\r\nworld a record of their unique and altogether wonderful experiences of\r\nthe war!\r\n\r\nMr. Krause's slight form was now twice, perhaps nearly thrice its\r\nusual size, and his friends, when they looked at him, laughed in\r\nincredulous amazement.\r\n\r\n\"Oh, man, what would I not give to possess a photo of you as you are\r\ndressed to-night!\" Mr. Botha exclaimed between his fits of laughter.\r\n\r\nIt was now 7 o'clock and nearly dark.\r\n\r\nThe two guards, walking up and down the street on their accustomed\r\nbeat, had just withdrawn; 7 o'clock was their dinner hour, this the\r\nplotters knew.\r\n\r\nIn a moment, Krause, with the bag over his shoulder and one leg of\r\nnecessity held very straight, limped out into the open street, \"Oom\r\nWillie\" (Botha) following and crossing to the other side.\r\n\r\nClose to a street lamp, at the corner of Market Street, Krause\r\nsuddenly saw a soldier walking on ahead, upon which he immediately\r\nturned down into Market Street, with the evident intention of pursuing\r\nhis way along Vermeulen Street. This his friend quite understood as,\r\never on the opposite side of the street, he watched and followed\r\nKrause in his course.\r\n\r\nAgain a soldier appears on the scene, this time walking _towards_ them\r\nin Vermeulen Street. No time to turn back now; forward, boldly\r\nforward--the fugitive has been observed.\r\n\r\nUnder one of the lamps the watcher on the other side sees to his\r\nhorror that one of the bandoliers has pushed its way up to the neck\r\nand is showing plainly above the collar of the coat.\r\n\r\nThe British guard observes this too, for he turns under the lamp and\r\nwatches the retreating form intently. Just a moment, and he raises his\r\nwhistle to his lips, giving forth the shrill alarm.\r\n\r\nThe game is up. Mr. Botha, unarmed, can be of no assistance to his\r\nfriend, who now must fight his way alone from death and danger. The\r\nMauser gun, which has been impeding his every movement, is whipped out\r\nof the trouser-leg as he flies, weapon conspicuously in hand, through\r\nthe well-lit streets of Pretoria, until, making a sudden dive, he\r\ndisappears between the wires of a fence, into the seclusion of a\r\npeaceful private garden. There is no time to think. He rushes through\r\nthe garden from one side to another, out into the next street, and so\r\non; block after block he takes, until he finds himself alone in a\r\nquiet street, far from the scene of danger, and while his enemies are\r\nsurrounding and searching the block into which he first had\r\ndisappeared, he is many miles away, plodding weary and heavy-laden to\r\nfriends and liberty.\r\n\r\nOnly half satisfied as to his comrade's escape, Mr. Botha returned\r\nhome in sore distress that night to watch and await developments, and\r\nit was not until Krause surprised him later with another and wholly\r\nunexpected visit that he learnt the sequel and happy ending of that\r\nmemorable flight.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nCHAPTER XXIV\r\n\r\nTHE DEATH OF ADOLPH KRAUSE\r\n\r\n\r\nUninterrupted communication had once more been established between the\r\nconspirators, and all was going well.\r\n\r\n_So it seemed!_\r\n\r\nBut the Prince of Darkness was at work. And with him an accursed band\r\nof Judas-Boers.\r\n\r\nHow can I tell the tale? How force into the background of my mind and\r\nsoul the unspeakable horror with which all my being is filled when I\r\ncontemplate this aspect of the war, in order to collect my thoughts\r\nsufficiently to find the words I need?\r\n\r\nThat week the town was full of spies.\r\n\r\nCaptain Naudé had come in on Thursday night and was to leave again on\r\nSaturday night. Another spy, young Delport, a brave and reckless\r\nyouth, was also in the capital, \"recruiting\" men to take out with him\r\nto commando.\r\n\r\nThat Saturday night, as Mr. Botha was on the point of leaving his home\r\nfor the Captain's place of refuge, from where he had to \"see him off,\"\r\nas arranged, Mrs. Krause arrived at his house in some agitation and\r\nsaid that her husband had just come in and wished to see Mr. Botha.\r\nKrause was suffering from an exceedingly painful whitlow in the thumb\r\nof his left hand, she said, and he had come to see a doctor and to\r\nhave the whitlow cut. She implored Mr. Botha and his neighbour Mr.\r\nHocke to come without delay, and to be present when the operation had\r\nto be performed.\r\n\r\nWith all the speed he could Mr. Botha hurried to the house in which\r\nCaptain Naudé was waiting, explained the case of Krause to him and\r\ntook a warm and hearty leave, kneeling with him for a few moments\r\nfirst, as was his wont, in earnest prayer to God for the protection of\r\nthe traveller.\r\n\r\nHe then called for Mr. Hocke, and the two men hurried to Mr. Krause's\r\nhouse in Prinsloo Street, where they found the doctor (a man initiated\r\nin all the mysteries of Boer espionage and a trusted friend) on the\r\npoint of performing the small, though painful operation.\r\n\r\nWhen it was over, Mr. Botha, prompted Heaven only knows by what\r\nforeshadowing of disaster, gave his friend a serious lecture on the\r\ndangers of his recklessness.\r\n\r\n\"How can you go about the town so much in broad daylight, whenever you\r\ncome in?\" he asked. \"Always on that bicycle of yours! Surely you must\r\nknow that you expose yourself to untold dangers!\"\r\n\r\n\"Oh, I could not always stay indoors! The house is far too close,\" the\r\npatient exclaimed, nursing his lacerated thumb.\r\n\r\nMr. Botha urged him to leave on Sunday night, not to remain longer\r\nthan was necessary, and to take with him a young German, who had been\r\nwounded and was now convalescent, after having been concealed and\r\nnursed for many months by trusty friends in town.\r\n\r\nAnd another warning he impressed upon him with unusual earnestness:\r\n\r\n\"Whatever you do, Krause, don't associate yourself with the party\r\nleaving under young Delport's guidance. I fear that there is something\r\nterribly wrong. He is going out with far too large a number, fifty men\r\nin all, he told me yesterday, and something warns me that amongst the\r\nmen there are detectives on the English side. Delport is young and\r\nvery reckless, and the thought of the great number going out with him\r\nthis time has made me more anxious than I can say.\"\r\n\r\nKrause produced his revolver from an inside pocket, and declared that\r\nbefore he surrendered himself a prisoner more than one British soldier\r\nwould be killed or wounded by him.\r\n\r\nWith a heavy heart and many sad forebodings, Mr. Botha left him. For\r\nhe remembered, with increasing anxiety, a visit he had had from\r\nDelport, when the latter had asked for his assistance in getting his\r\nmen--fifty, as he had said--safely through the town.\r\n\r\nMr. Botha had refused at the time, pretending that he had never taken\r\npart in such proceedings, and warning the young man that the game he\r\nwas about to play was hazardous in the extreme.\r\n\r\n\"If you _must_ go out with those men, leave on Monday night, when the\r\nothers have escaped in safety,\" was his last advice to Delport.\r\n\r\nUnfortunately, Fate decreed that Krause and Delport should meet\r\naccidentally on Sunday morning, the day after Mr. Botha's warning to\r\nKrause.\r\n\r\nTogether the two men, flinging caution to the winds, or perhaps in\r\ntheir enthusiasm entirely forgetting the wise counsel of their friend,\r\nlaid their heads together, and agreed to meet at a certain point that\r\nnight, Krause with the wounded German and two or three of his most\r\nfaithful friends, and Delport with his party of fifty men.\r\n\r\n [Illustration: ADOLPH KRAUSE.]\r\n\r\nAs Mr. Botha, with strange intuition, had predicted, there were\r\ndastardly traitors in that group of fifty men--Judas-Boers--who, under\r\nthe pretence of seeking an opportunity of joining the burgher forces,\r\nhad persuaded Delport to allow them to accompany him. That _he_ was\r\ninnocent in this black crime of hideous treachery, no one who knew him\r\never had a doubt.\r\n\r\nAt the appointed place the two men met. Farther on they were joined by\r\nthe wounded German and his comrades; still farther, beyond the\r\nboundary of the town, under a cluster of trees, well known to them as\r\na secret trysting-place, the large party had assembled one by one and\r\nwas awaiting the arrival of its leaders.\r\n\r\nThe latter, seeing in the distance a group of moving figures which\r\nthey took to be their friends, walked boldly and serenely forward--to\r\nfind themselves a moment later in a most deadly trap!\r\n\r\nThe conflict must have been a desperate one!\r\n\r\nHe who played so brave a part in it, Krause, the only armed man on his\r\nside, shot down his opponents one by one, until they closed on him,\r\nand then, overpowered by the fearful odds and battered beyond\r\nrecognition by heavy blows from the butt-ends of their guns, he was at\r\nlast pinioned to the ground by his infuriated captors.\r\n\r\nThree men were taken, Krause, Venter (a mere boy, the son of a widow\r\nin Pretoria), and one other--who must be nameless here.\r\n\r\nOf the rest some fled into the open veld, while others, hopelessly\r\nignorant of their surroundings or of the route to take, wisely\r\nreturned to town under cover of the darkness of the night.\r\n\r\nWith one exception. Fritz W., the wounded German, lost his way and was\r\nunable to go back to town before the curfew-bell, the hour at which\r\nevery resident was supposed to be indoors.\r\n\r\nFinding himself near a small camp of soldiers in the vicinity of the\r\nPretoria West Station, he cautiously crept into one of the tents,\r\nwhere he found a solitary soldier, sound asleep. Without a moment's\r\nhesitation, he stretched himself down on the ground beside him,\r\nthinking over the tragic events of that awful Sunday evening and\r\ndozing off at intervals, from sheer exhaustion of mind and body.\r\n\r\nDuring the night another soldier, evidently returning from duty as\r\nguard or outpost, entered the tent and lay beside him on the other\r\nside.\r\n\r\nSo he spent the night between two British soldiers, and with the first\r\napproach of dawn he cautiously and stealthily extricated himself from\r\nhis perilous position and made his way to town.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nThree or four days after the perfidious betrayal of the Secret Service\r\nmen the Committee was staggered with the tidings of the execution of\r\ntheir comrades, Krause and Venter, in the prison-yard of the old\r\nPretoria jail.\r\n\r\nThe third, the nameless one, had, it was said, saved himself by\r\nturning King's evidence.\r\n\r\nOf their last days on earth nothing will ever be known, but those of\r\nus blessed or cursed with the divine and cruel gift of imagination see\r\nin our mind's eye two men in prison-cells in solitary confinement, one\r\na broken-hearted husband, the other the beloved son of a widowed\r\nmother.\r\n\r\nWounded and suffering they lie on their last bed of pain. Friendless\r\nand alone they await the untimely end of their brief but glorious\r\ncareer. Longing, with all the weakness of the human heart, for one\r\nlast look of love, one reassuring clasp from a tender woman's hand,\r\nthey prepare themselves to meet the death they have faced so often and\r\nso manfully in their heroic struggle for liberty and independence.\r\n\r\nFear? Despair?\r\n\r\nNo--a thousand times, No!\r\n\r\nCould there have been fear or despair in the hearts of those two men,\r\nwith the knowledge beating in their brains that they held their lives\r\nin their own hands, that one word from them of information against\r\ntheir fellow-workers could avert their doom, and that they, and they\r\nalone, could save themselves at the sacrifice of honour and fidelity?\r\n\r\nHow in the end they met their fate we do not know--we can but dimly\r\nguess.\r\n\r\nThe painful task of acquainting Mrs. Krause with the fate of her\r\nhusband fell to the lot of Mr. Botha and Mr. Hocke.\r\n\r\nAs she would probably be destitute, the two men decided to collect a\r\nsum of money before approaching her with their evil tidings, and this\r\nthey had to do by stealth, in order not to bring suspicion on\r\nthemselves.\r\n\r\nThey were successful in obtaining over £34 for the bereaved wife in a\r\nvery short time, from friends and sympathisers as poor as they\r\nthemselves, and later, from the same source, in the same\r\nunostentatious way, a far larger amount was collected in order to send\r\nthe widow to her relatives in Germany.\r\n\r\nThese details, mundane though they may appear after the stirring acts\r\nof heroism described above, are significant of greater\r\nthings--self-sacrificing generosity, unswerving loyalty, and a\r\ncompassionate desire to atone, in some practical and helpful way, for\r\ntheir share in the disaster brought on innocent and helpless\r\nwomanhood.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nCHAPTER XXV\r\n\r\nTHE SHOEMAKER AT WORK\r\n\r\n\r\nThat the inborn sense of humour of the Dutch South African race should\r\nhave been stunted in its growth, if not completely crushed, by the\r\nhorrors of the war, would be small cause for surprise to most people\r\nwho have given the matter a thought. But to those of us acquainted\r\nwith the facts, an entirely different and wholly comprehensible aspect\r\nof the case has been made manifest.\r\n\r\nThe blessed gift of humour is only sharpened by the hard realities of\r\nlife, can never be appreciated to the full in the calm and shallow\r\nwaters of prosperity.\r\n\r\nOf this we had innumerable proofs during those tempestuous days, and\r\ncertain it is that the memory of a harmless joke, enjoyed under\r\ncircumstances of unusual stress and trouble, grows sweeter and is\r\nstrengthened as the years go by.\r\n\r\nFor dry humour and keen enjoyment of the ludicrous, our friend Mr. W.\r\nBotha could not easily be surpassed; and I advise you, good reader, if\r\nyou have the chance, to induce him to tell you the following story in\r\nhis own words, and to watch the flicker of amusement in his eye.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nFour of Captain Naudé's spies are in town again, resting, shopping,\r\nand exchanging items of war experiences with their friends and\r\nrelatives.\r\n\r\nCountless parcels have arrived from various stores of note in town,\r\nand four big bags, full to bursting, are arrayed against the wall for\r\ntransportation \"to the front\" at 7 o'clock that night.\r\n\r\nBut what is this? Another bag? Impossible! There are but four men\r\ngoing out and each one has his load, quite as much as he can carry\r\nalready.\r\n\r\nWhat does it contain? A beautiful brand-new saddle, the property of an\r\nEnglish officer, which Willie Els, son of the Committee member, has\r\ndetermined shall on no account be left behind.\r\n\r\nExpostulations from the older men are all in vain.\r\n\r\nThe saddle, with the four other bags, is put into Delport's cab, which\r\nis waiting at the door, and, after many fond farewells, the young men\r\ndrive off in the direction of the Pretoria Lunatic Asylum.\r\n\r\nAt this time there is no better spot for exit from the capital, but in\r\norder to reach it one point of extreme danger has to be passed--the\r\npoint at which a British officer, with five-and-twenty mounted men, is\r\nstationed, in command of a searchlight apparatus for scouring the\r\nsurrounding country.\r\n\r\nThe dangerous spot has been frequently passed in safety by these very\r\nspies.\r\n\r\nTo-night they pass again in unobserved security, but alas! when they\r\nhave crossed the railway line, immediately opposite the asylum, where\r\nthey are in the habit of alighting with their parcels, they find to\r\ntheir distress that, try as they will, they cannot carry more than the\r\nfour bags allotted to them in the first instance.\r\n\r\nThe bag containing the precious saddle must go back to town.\r\n\r\nOh, the pity of it!\r\n\r\nThe critical spot must be passed again, and, as ill-luck would have\r\nit, the British officer hails the passing cab and is about to get in,\r\nwhen his eye falls on the bag.\r\n\r\n\"What is this?\" he asks the driver.\r\n\r\nNo concealment possible now!\r\n\r\n\"A saddle, sir.\"\r\n\r\n\"A saddle! Whose, and where are you taking it?\"\r\n\r\n\"From Mr. Botha to Mr. Els in town. On my way I was stopped and asked\r\nto take some passengers to the asylum, which I have just done. I was\r\ngoing to Mr. Botha when you stopped me.\"\r\n\r\nThe officer looks doubtful, feels the bag all over and, taking a\r\nnotebook from his pocket, enters all the details of this most\r\nsuspicious-looking affair, the number of the cab, the name and address\r\nof the driver, the names and full addresses of the two men who have\r\nbeen mentioned.\r\n\r\nThen he gets in and peremptorily orders the cabman to drive to\r\nsuch-and-such an hotel in the centre of the town.\r\n\r\nWith a throb of relief Delport deposits his fare at the hotel and,\r\nwhipping up his horses, drives at the utmost speed to Mr. Els' house,\r\nto warn him of the danger he is in.\r\n\r\nMr. and Mrs. Botha have just retired for the night, when they are\r\naroused by a hurried knock at the front door. They admit two girls,\r\none of them the daughter of Mrs. Els, the other a sister to Mrs.\r\nNaudé, both extremely agitated.\r\n\r\nMiss Els speaks first:\r\n\r\n\"Oom Willie, you must please come to our house at once. My father is\r\nvery ill.\"\r\n\r\nOom Willie's heart sinks into his slippers.\r\n\r\nThis, the long-expected sign that their game is up, has come at last.\r\n\r\nHe hastens to the home of his friend.\r\n\r\nWhen he learns the truth the case does not seem so hopeless after all\r\nand he feels his courage returning.\r\n\r\n\"We must think of some plan with which to meet the police when they\r\ncome. Quick! There is not a moment to lose. They may be here at any\r\nminute.\"\r\n\r\nIn an incredibly short time the officer's new saddle is buried in a\r\nbag of coal, which is again sewn up and thrown into the back-yard,\r\nwhile an old and worthless saddle is produced, Heaven only knows from\r\nwhere, cut up into pieces and placed in a large basin of water on the\r\ndining-room table.\r\n\r\n\"Now, Oom Gerrie,\" Mr. Botha says, as soon as he can find his breath,\r\n\"you are a shoemaker by trade, and this old saddle has been sent to\r\nyou by me to make shoes for my children.\"\r\n\r\n\"But you have not got any! and I have never made a shoe in my life!\"\r\n\r\n\"Well, then, for my nieces and nephews. Never mind about your\r\nignorance. When any one comes in, remember you are just on the point\r\nof beginning your work. I shall send you an old last when I get home.\"\r\n\r\nA pocket-knife, a hammer, and a few nails scattered on the table\r\ncomplete the shoemaker's outfit, and there he sits, with trembling\r\nhands and spectacles on nose, far into the night, for does he not\r\nexpect the dreaded knock at his front door before the dawn of another\r\nday?\r\n\r\nNext morning Oom Willie raps smartly at the door and walks in\r\nunceremoniously, to find Oom Gerrie just about to begin his work, as\r\nwith shaking hand he adjusts his spectacles.\r\n\r\n\"How is trade this morning?\" he asks, with a jolly laugh, as he\r\nsettles himself on a chair to watch his friend's discomfiture. But Oom\r\nGerrie is not pleased at all. The trade is getting on Oom Gerrie's\r\nnerves, and he takes no part in the hilarity around him.\r\n\r\nTwo days pass, three, four, and no English officer appears, no search\r\nis made for contraband of war in Oom Gerrie's house; but every time\r\nthe door is opened or a footstep heard on the verandah, Oom Gerrie may\r\nbe found with one hand plunged in a basin of water, while with the\r\nother he adjusts his spectacles.\r\n\r\nPoor Oom Gerrie!\r\n\r\nHe gives up his trade in despair at last, for after all it does not\r\npay, but as long as the old man lives he will be forced to listen to\r\nthe question:\r\n\r\n\"How is the boot-making trade?\"\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nCHAPTER XXVI\r\n\r\nBITTEN BY OUR OWN DOGS\r\n\r\n\r\nThe events about to be recorded in this chapter have just reminded me\r\nof an incident which took place immediately after the occupation of\r\nthe capital.\r\n\r\nAn old Kaffir, who had been with the English just before Pretoria was\r\ntaken, told Mrs. van Warmelo that three Boer men had ridden out on\r\nbicycles to the English lines, and held consultation with\r\nthem--traitors evidently, in secret understanding with the enemy, to\r\nwhom they took information of some sort.\r\n\r\nThe old Kaffir wound up his remarks by saying:\r\n\r\n\"Missis, you are bitten by your own dogs.\"\r\n\r\nHow true this was, was soon to be brought home to us in the most\r\nforcible way; but before we go on to the next developments in our\r\nstory I must not forget to tell you, good reader, that the three spies\r\nfrom whom Hansie parted on the evening of August 15th had quite an\r\nescape as they left the town.\r\n\r\nThey were driven in a cab, with their numerous parcels, as far as the\r\nwire enclosure, by a friend who always escorted them through the most\r\ndangerous parts of the town.\r\n\r\nThis friend, a young Mr. van der Westhuizen, played an important but\r\nunobtrusive rôle in the history of the men with whom we are\r\nconcerned.\r\n\r\nWhen Hansie met him first he was in the Pretoria hospital with a badly\r\nwounded arm, of which some of the muscles had been completely severed.\r\nAs he never recovered the entire use of that arm, he was detained in\r\nPretoria with other men unable to escape, and, carrying his left arm\r\nin a sling, he was made use of by the Secret Committee and by Mrs.\r\nJoubert, who employed him as her coachman.\r\n\r\nHe carried a residential pass, which he produced on every imaginable\r\noccasion, and was able to render untold services to the spies by\r\nconveying them with their parcels to the wire fence. But on this\r\noccasion they nearly got into serious trouble, for, just as the cab\r\nwas nearing the enclosure, a searchlight from one of the forts was\r\nturned full on them. In consternation, one of the men ordered the\r\ndriver to turn to the left, another to the right, but with great\r\npresence of mind he ignored them both, and drove straight on, thus\r\ndisarming a group of soldiers, standing near, of any suspicions they\r\nmight have had at seeing a cab so near the fence at night.\r\n\r\nFortunately, the light was soon turned in another direction.\r\n\r\nThe spies descended with their parcels, and were shortly in the deep\r\nfurrow along which they had to creep to reach the wire fence,\r\ncautiously wending their way to friends and liberty, when some one\r\ncame running after them, shouting to them to stop.\r\n\r\nIt was van der Westhuizen with a parcel they had left in the cab.\r\n\r\nIn this way the three men left the town with the railway time-table,\r\nnot to come in again until September 10th.\r\n\r\nMy readers will remember the five men who were cut off from their\r\nrefuge in the Skurvebergen some time back, and one of whom Mrs. van\r\nWarmelo had refused to harbour.\r\n\r\nI shall not name them, for I do not feel myself justified in damning\r\nthe reputation of the Boer traitors for ever by publishing their\r\nnames, but the events I am about to relate cannot be excluded without\r\nchanging the entire character of this story.\r\n\r\nThese men had been concealed by other friends, and when the scare was\r\nover they escaped from Pretoria to the commandos. They had nearly been\r\nforgotten when news reached the capital of their capture by the enemy,\r\nfive of them in all, and of their imprisonment in jail.\r\n\r\nWhile their life hung in the balance a time of nervous dread, not to\r\nbe forgotten, was passed through, for they would either be shot as\r\nspies or they could save themselves by betraying their friends.\r\n\r\nThe suspense was soon over.\r\n\r\nOne of them--the very one, in fact, who had been refused admittance to\r\nHarmony through Mrs. van Warmelo's prudence, turned King's evidence\r\nand, to save his own precious skin, revealed the names of the good\r\nfriends who had sheltered him at their own peril.\r\n\r\nRumour said that two of the betrayed would be shot on the evidence he\r\ngave against them.\r\n\r\nNot only the names of his friends in town did he betray, but he also\r\ntold the authorities how and when and where the spies came in, the\r\nnames of the men who worked with him on commando, and the families who\r\nharboured them in town.\r\n\r\nMore than eighty people were incriminated.\r\n\r\nOn every side whole families were arrested, the men being put into\r\njail, while their women and children were sent away to Concentration\r\nCamps.\r\n\r\nMy readers must understand that this was an entirely different set of\r\npeople, not known to those at Harmony, and with whom they had had no\r\ndealings. It was no credit to Hansie that she and her mother were not\r\non the list of the betrayed. She remembered with humility and shame\r\nher unreasonable fit of temper when her mother refused to harbour the\r\ntraitor, and determined to give ear to her wise counsel in future.\r\n\r\nThey and their friends were in no way affected by his treachery,\r\nexcept in so far that it cast a gloom over them and made them realise\r\nthat the Boers would not be able to hold out much longer against the\r\nmachinations of these traitors of their own flesh and blood. Another\r\nmatter for grave concern was the thought that Captain Naudé might\r\nattempt to pass through his usual route, not knowing that the enemy\r\nhad been informed of it, and run straight into the traps prepared for\r\nhim.\r\n\r\nHow to get out a warning to the Skurvebergen in time was the problem\r\nbefore them now.\r\n\r\nHansie spent the next few days in flying about on her bicycle to find\r\nout if any one in the \"inner circle\" had been arrested.\r\n\r\nThank God, no. Mr. Willem Botha was at home, the Jouberts were still\r\nin undisturbed security, all the other members of the Secret Committee\r\nwere safe.\r\n\r\nThey congratulated themselves and one another on their escape, and Mr.\r\nBotha, visiting at Harmony a few days later, once more impressed on\r\nthem the danger of coming into contact with any spies other than those\r\nthey knew and trusted.\r\n\r\nAnd again he warned them to keep no papers in the house--\"for,\" he\r\ncontinued, \"we must always bear in mind that we can never be sure we\r\nhave not been betrayed. Our names may be on the black list already,\r\nand the enemy may only be waiting to catch us red-handed. No one is\r\nsafe, and no one ought to _feel_ safe.\"\r\n\r\nThere was a moment's pause, and then he went on, with evident\r\nreluctance: \"I have good reason for warning you again. I do not wish\r\nto alarm you, but only last night, as I was walking in the moonlight\r\nwith my wife, we passed a man I know well, with a girl on his arm. The\r\nmoon was shining very brightly, and, as they passed me, I distinctly\r\nheard him say, 'This man has also been given away.'\"\r\n\r\nHansie felt a thrill of acute anxiety for her friend. The two women\r\nlooked at one another.\r\n\r\nThey tried to console themselves with the thought that the man might\r\nhave mistaken Mr. Botha for some one else. There was nothing to do but\r\nwait, but the suspense and uncertainty were very hard to bear, and\r\nlong were the discussions over every imaginable possibility.\r\n\r\nThey knew that the traitor was acquainted with the Captain of the\r\nSecret Service and his private secretary Mr. Greyling. Did he also\r\nknow the names of the members of the Committee? Did Greyling confide\r\nthe secret of the time-table to him? These young men were reckless.\r\nDeath was their daily bread, and caution was a thing unknown to them.\r\n\r\nWonderful developments could be expected within the next few days.\r\n\r\nThe lowering clouds of adversity gathered closely, surely,\r\nmercilessly, around our friends.\r\n\r\nClasp that hand again, and once again, in mute farewell. Look deep\r\ninto those steadfast eyes. It may be for the last time for many long,\r\nrelentless years; it may be for the last time--on earth!\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nCHAPTER XXVII\r\n\r\nTHE BETRAYAL OF THE SECRET COMMITTEE. A MEMORABLE DAY OF TROUBLE\r\n\r\n\r\nIt was only a few days after the van Warmelos had parted from Mr.\r\nBotha that Mr. J. Joubert arrived at Harmony with the tidings that\r\nfour men had again entered the town that night. One of them was a lad\r\nof nineteen, young Erasmus, whose parents had been killed by lightning\r\nwhen he was a child, and to whom Mrs. Joubert had been a second\r\nmother.\r\n\r\nWhen he arrived at their home that night they were very angry with\r\nhim, and demanded what he meant by coming into the very heart of\r\ndanger.\r\n\r\nHe meekly answered that he had merely come to see how they were all\r\ngetting on, and to spend a few days at home, casually remarking that\r\nthere was a dearth of horse-shoe nails on commando, and that he had\r\nbeen ordered to bring some out.\r\n\r\nHe and his comrades knew nothing of the recent betrayal, and it was\r\ntheir good fortune that they had used an entirely different route,\r\ncoming through Skinner's Court. They had not seen a single guard.\r\n\r\nBesides the horse-shoe nails, there was the usual demand for clothing\r\nand European and Colonial newspapers.\r\n\r\nMrs. van Warmelo immediately made a parcel of the cuttings which she\r\nand her friends had been collecting for some time past, and wrote a\r\ntiny note to Mr. Greyling, warning him and his fellows against coming\r\nin through the usual way, which was now guarded, and informing him\r\nthat his name had been betrayed. This note was hidden in a match-box\r\nwith a double false bottom, covered with matches, and given to Erasmus\r\nto be handed to Greyling.\r\n\r\nSince the revelations made, it was not safe to see the spies, nor was\r\nit known by whom the match-box had been sent.\r\n\r\nAfter all, in spite of Mrs. Joubert's vexation with the reckless\r\nyouth, she was thankful to know that some one was going out to\r\nSkurveberg with a warning to the Secret Service.\r\n\r\nErasmus had to leave without the horse-shoe nails, because, though J.\r\nJoubert hunted all over the town, he could not procure enough to send\r\nout.\r\n\r\nThe stores sold them only to the military and blacksmiths, and the\r\nlatter were curious to know why he did not bring his horses to them to\r\nbe shod.\r\n\r\nMother and daughter were there at 5.30 p.m., with their parcels, and\r\nat 6 p.m. the spies were to leave, Mrs. Malan and van der Westhuizen\r\ndriving out with them as far as they could.\r\n\r\nThat was a real danger, compared with which all other risks were as\r\nnothing, to drive through the streets of Pretoria with spies, at a\r\ntime when everyone was liable to be stopped to produce residential\r\npasses and to show permits for horses and carriages.\r\n\r\nBut, indeed, those women were not to be intimidated by anything!\r\n\r\nWe have now come to a morning into which many events of disastrous\r\nimportance were crowded, the fateful September 9th. Before breakfast,\r\nan agitated girl, unknown at Harmony, arrived with the intelligence\r\nthat Mr. Willem Botha had been arrested at 8 o'clock the night before.\r\n\r\nNo other names were mentioned then, but it was felt instinctively that\r\nthe entire Secret Committee had been betrayed and arrested, and the\r\nnews, when it reached Harmony during the course of the day, found\r\nmother and daughter to some extent prepared. The shock, nevertheless,\r\nwas so great, so crushing, that it took them some time to recover\r\nsufficiently to form a plan of action.\r\n\r\nHansie hastily swallowed some food and was preparing to go to town,\r\nwhen her mother asked her what she meant to do, whether she had\r\nthought of anything, or if it was advisable to show herself at all\r\njust then.\r\n\r\n\"I don't know what I am going to do _afterwards_, mother,\" she said,\r\n\"but I am going straight to Mrs. Botha now.\"\r\n\r\n\"Hansie!\" exclaimed Mrs. van Warmelo in consternation, \"you will do\r\nnothing of the kind. Their house will be watched, and you will be\r\nfollowed home. You can do nothing to help that poor woman now, and to\r\nbe seen with her would be an unpardonable and unnecessary risk.\"\r\n\r\nBut Hansie had made up her mind, and nothing could persuade her that\r\nit was not her duty to stand by her friend in her hour of need. There\r\nwas good reason, too, for her anxiety.\r\n\r\nAfter thirteen years of happy, though childless married life, Mr. and\r\nMrs. Botha's home was about to be blessed with an infant child, and\r\nit was the thought of the expectant mother's anguish and despair that\r\ntook Hansie to her side.\r\n\r\n\"Well\" (Mrs. van Warmelo was secretly pleased with her daughter's\r\nbehaviour), \"if you are determined to expose yourself to this danger,\r\nI think I had better begin to pack at once, for we shall certainly be\r\nsent away.\"\r\n\r\n\"All right, mother,\" Hansie laughed; \"pack away, and I'll come home as\r\nsoon as I can to help you.\"\r\n\r\nShe took tender leave of her mother, cheering her with hopeful words\r\nand whistling gaily to Carlo to come and protect her on her\r\nadventurous expedition.\r\n\r\nNo one could have been more surprised to see Hansie than Mrs. Botha.\r\nShe stared as if she could not believe her eyes, and then fell sobbing\r\non her young friend's shoulder.\r\n\r\n\"How could you risk it to come here?\" she exclaimed.\r\n\r\n\"No one else has been near me, and I am deserted by all my friends\r\nsince----\" here she fell a-weeping again, and clung to Hansie for\r\nsupport.\r\n\r\nAs soon as she could speak, she gave an account of all that had taken\r\nplace.\r\n\r\nShe and her husband were sitting under the verandah the night before,\r\ntalking about the miserable business of the spy's infidelity and its\r\ndisastrous results to so many people in town. Mr. Botha was just\r\nsaying that, in the event of his arrest, his wife need have no fear of\r\nhis betraying a friend, and that the English might shoot him, but they\r\nwould not get a shred of information out of him, when two detectives\r\non bicycles rode up and dismounted at the steps.\r\n\r\nMrs. Botha just had time to whisper hurriedly to her husband that she\r\nwould rather see him dead than have him come back to her a traitor,\r\nwhen the detectives, producing a warrant for his arrest, approached\r\nhim.\r\n\r\nHe gave himself up quietly; there was nothing else for him to do. He\r\nwas unarmed, for it was one of the first rules of the Committee and\r\npractically their only safeguard in the event of an arrest, to carry\r\non their work without weapons of any sort.\r\n\r\nThe house was thoroughly searched for spies and all books and papers\r\nwere taken away, but, thanks to Mr. Botha's prudence and foresight,\r\nnot a single incriminating document was found.\r\n\r\nThe remembrance of this was a source of great comfort to his wife,\r\nfor, without proofs, his life was safe, although he would probably be\r\nsent as prisoner of war to one of the distant islands.\r\n\r\nMrs. Botha was a brave and true woman. She did not think of herself at\r\nall, but she was so much concerned for Hansie's safety that she urged\r\nher to go home at once and not to come again. The first part of her\r\ninjunctions Hansie obeyed, but she refused to promise not to be seen\r\nat that house again.\r\n\r\nIt was being closely watched, there was no doubt of that, and on\r\ngetting into a cab she soon became aware of being followed by two men\r\non bicycles.\r\n\r\nThis was rather exciting, and Hansie actually enjoyed the chase.\r\nInstead of urging her cabby to whip up his horses, she gave him\r\ninstructions to go as slowly as possible, well knowing that it would\r\nbe more difficult for any one on a bicycle to follow a crawling cab\r\nunnoticed than to pursue a more swiftly moving vehicle.\r\n\r\nWhen she reached Harmony and paid her fare she saw, out of the corner\r\nof her eye, that the men dismounted before the War Office.\r\n\r\n\"Were you followed home?\" was her mother's first question.\r\n\r\n\"Yes, indeed,\" she replied, laughing; \"they are near our gate at this\r\nvery moment, and I can just imagine them going to the sergeant-major\r\npresently, asking questions about the people living here. And I am\r\nquite sure his answer will be, 'Bless you, no. Those two ladies are\r\nquiet and well-behaved, and you don't suppose they could be carrying\r\non any of _that_ business under my very nose!'\"\r\n\r\nHansie's diaries had all been removed to an office in town and placed\r\nin a _safe_ safe. All safes were _not_ \"safe\" in those days, but this\r\none belonged to a man who was known as a model of good behaviour\r\nthroughout the war. White envelopes, diaries, copies of official\r\ndispatches from the field, all had been removed from Harmony, except\r\nthe \"White Diary\" which lay open on her writing-table, and to which we\r\nowe a detailed account of the stirring events of September 1901.\r\n\r\nWhat it naturally did not contain was accurate information of the\r\narrest of the other Committee members and their subsequent\r\nexperiences.\r\n\r\nTrusted friends were beyond her reach, and she had to content herself\r\nwith what information she could gather from men \"about the town,\" but\r\nthis information, verified by what she was told by the men concerned\r\nlong after the war was over, will give the reader a fair idea of the\r\nevents of this period.\r\n\r\nNot only Mr. Botha, but all the members of the Secret Committee had\r\nbeen arrested that night, and two days later the staggering tidings\r\ncame of Mr. Jannie Joubert's removal to the Rest Camp, where\r\n\"political prisoners\" were detained.\r\n\r\nNow indeed fears of a speedy raid on Harmony were justified.\r\n\r\nTheir fellow-conspirators were all in the hand of the enemy, and\r\nalthough they trusted them implicitly, and knew there was no one\r\namongst them base enough to betray his friends, they had no reason to\r\nthink that the people who had betrayed the others would spare them.\r\n\r\nOne revelation after the other was made that day, and Hansie learnt\r\nfrom some one, who said he was in possession of all the facts, that,\r\ndespicable though the treacherous spy's behaviour had been, he was not\r\nresponsible for the exposure of the Secret Service Committee.\r\n\r\nAlas, no! the appearance of another traitor in our midst has to be\r\nrecorded here.\r\n\r\nOne of the young spies in the service of the Committee had been taken\r\nby the enemy, how and where I am not at liberty to say, but there were\r\ncircumstances connected with his capture, and facts known to the enemy\r\nof the hazardous part he had played on previous occasions, which made\r\nit clear from the beginning that he would be convicted.\r\n\r\nSome one who was allowed to visit him regularly in his cell told me\r\nthat he stood his trial bravely and steadfastly refused to betray a\r\nsingle name to save himself. Threats and persuasions were of no\r\navail.\r\n\r\nOn Saturday night in his cell his death sentence was read to him.\r\n\r\nThe execution was to take place on Sunday morning at 6 o'clock, he was\r\ntold.\r\n\r\nIncidentally his jailers informed him that there was still a chance\r\nfor him if he would give the authorities the names of some of the\r\npeople in town who were in communication with the Boers in the field.\r\n\r\nHe was then left to his pleasant reflections.\r\n\r\nReader, we must not be too harsh in our judgment of him. He was only a\r\nboy, not yet twenty years of age, and we shall never know what anguish\r\nof mind he endured that night.\r\n\r\nWhen day broke he was in no way fit for the harrowing scene awaiting\r\nhim. His father, his sister, and his fiancée were admitted to his cell\r\nat the fateful hour that morning, to take their last leave of him.\r\n\r\nThey clung to him, sobbing, wailing, and imploring him to give the\r\nnames of his fellow-conspirators. What arguments were brought to bear\r\nupon him we shall never know.\r\n\r\nHe yielded, and in that God-forsaken cell on Sunday morning he gave\r\nthe names required of him, the five members of the Secret Committee\r\nand other names familiar to us all, Jannie Joubert, Franz Smit,\r\nLiebenberg, etc.\r\n\r\nAh, if he had been executed that day, how his memory would have been\r\nrevered by his friends and respected by his foes! But what was he\r\nnow?--a traitor, oh God! a traitor to his land and people!\r\n\r\nAnd a coward too, base and craven-hearted, shielding his miserable\r\nlife with dishonour and treachery.\r\n\r\nThat the enemy would not have shot him in any case, because of his\r\nyouth, makes no difference to the blackness of his deed, except\r\nperhaps to add to the bitterness of his remorse when afterwards he was\r\napprised of this fact.[4]\r\n\r\nThe death sentence was commuted, and instead he was sentenced to\r\nseveral years' hard labour; he was, in fact, still \"doing time\" in\r\nPretoria and Johannesburg two years after peace had been declared.\r\n\r\nOf the women who were the cause of his downfall I can only say that\r\nthey were never in any way connected with the \"Petticoat Commando.\"\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nWhen the news of Jannie Joubert's arrest became known, Mrs. van\r\nWarmelo positively forbade her daughter to go to Mrs. Joubert's house.\r\n\r\nThere was nothing to be done, and although they had every reason to\r\nbelieve that their names were on the list of the betrayed, nothing\r\ncould be gained by exposing themselves to unnecessary danger.\r\n\r\nIt was told Hansie, the day after the last sweeping arrests had been\r\nmade, that Mrs. Joubert's carriage had been standing before the\r\nMilitary Governor's office for some time.\r\n\r\nThis information brought the reality of the situation vividly to her\r\nmind.\r\n\r\nWhat was the old lady doing there? Pleading for her son? Was there no\r\nway of helping her? These questions preyed on Hansie's mind, until\r\nshe obtained permission from her mother to visit Mr. Jannie's sister,\r\nMrs. Malan.\r\n\r\nMrs. Malan was in bed with influenza, she said, but it was quite\r\nevident that acute distress of mind had a large share in her\r\nindisposition.\r\n\r\nOn Sunday night, after the fateful morning of the last betrayal, the\r\nJouberts were surprised by a visit from the Provost-Marshal himself,\r\naccompanied by another officer.\r\n\r\nThey asked permission to search the house for the ammunition which\r\nthey knew to be concealed there. Ammunition! Jannie said he knew of\r\nnone, except a boxful of cartridges standing in the loft. They had\r\nbeen found lying about the house and were stowed away when the English\r\nhad taken possession of Pretoria. He took the officers up to the loft\r\nand showed them the box, but they were not satisfied, and ordered him\r\nto appear before the Provost-Marshal the next day, to give a\r\nsatisfactory explanation.\r\n\r\nA search was also made for documents, but nothing was found except an\r\nold heliographic chart which his father, Commandant-General Joubert,\r\nhad used long ago in Kaffir wars.\r\n\r\nJannie Joubert went the following day to give an account of himself,\r\nand the next thing his mother heard was that he had been arrested and\r\nremoved to the Rest Camp. (_Arrest_ Camp, some people called it!)\r\n\r\nHe was very independent and refused to take the oath of neutrality,\r\nwhich, strange to say, he had hitherto avoided, and it would certainly\r\nnot have been to his taste had he known that his mother had been to\r\nthe Military Governor to intercede for him.\r\n\r\nThe result of that interview was not satisfactory. He would only be\r\nreleased on signing parole.\r\n\r\nThis, Mrs. Malan thought, he would certainly refuse to do.\r\n\r\n\"We were treated with marked kindness,\" she continued, \"and this may\r\nbe taken as proof that the English are not aware of the _real_ facts.\"\r\n\r\nThe two women laughed in mutual understanding of their conspiracies.\r\n\r\n\"Still this leniency may be only a blind, Hansie. It is painful not to\r\nknow _how much_ the enemy knows.\"\r\n\r\n\"What will you do if Captain Naudé and Mr. Greyling come in to-night?\"\r\nHansie asked.\r\n\r\n\"Shelter them, of course!\" was the undaunted reply.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nThat night as Hansie lay on her sleepless pillow, she felt as if all\r\nthe batteries of the gold mines were thumping on her heart.\r\n\r\nMrs. Malan's last words to her rang continually in her ears:\r\n\r\n\"Willie Botha will be executed without a doubt.\"\r\n\r\nBut before day dawned Hansie's heart was at rest and she slept, for\r\nshe had solved the problem in her mind.\r\n\r\nShe would go to General Maxwell and plead with him for the life of her\r\nfriend.\r\n\r\nHe was human and tender-hearted, that she knew, and she would tell him\r\nhow an innocent young life hung in the balance, how the lives of both\r\nmother and child would be imperilled if such a cruel fate befell the\r\nfather. If her pleadings were of no avail, she would offer to give,\r\nin exchange for his life, the name of one well known to her as a\r\ndangerous enemy to the English.\r\n\r\nAnd when she had made sure of his release, hers would be the name she\r\nwould reveal.\r\n\r\nDuring the dark days which followed Hansie found her strong support in\r\nthe thought of this resolve.\r\n\r\nFOOTNOTES:\r\n\r\n[Footnote 4: The writer was misinformed on this point. After the age\r\nof fourteen, boys are liable to be executed.]\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nCHAPTER XXVIII\r\n\r\nHANSIE EARNING THE VOTE\r\n\r\n\r\nEvents moved quickly in those days.\r\n\r\nThe conspirators had hardly had time to recover from the shock of the\r\nrecent arrests, they were just beginning to wonder what would happen\r\nif their unsuspecting friends from commando walked into the pitfalls\r\nprepared for them, racking their brains for plans to avert such a\r\ncatastrophe, when the very thing they feared took place.\r\n\r\nInstead of the familiar figure of Willie Botha coming up the garden\r\npath with news, Mrs. Malan drove up with Jannie Joubert's fiancée,\r\nMiss Malan.\r\n\r\nTheir appearance at Harmony brought all that had happened most\r\nforcibly to the minds of the stricken inmates, filling them with the\r\nsense of acute loss; and when they heard what their visitors had to\r\ntell, four women more forlorn would have been hard to find.\r\n\r\nIn short sentences Mrs. Malan told how four young men, all ignorant of\r\nthe fate of their fellows in town, had tried to come in from the High\r\nVeld, bearing with them dispatches from Captain Naudé to the President\r\nand to the Committee of spies in town.\r\n\r\nThese men had gone to and fro for months without a single encounter\r\nwith outpost or guard, but on this occasion, when they reached the\r\nwire enclosure, they were unexpectedly met by a storm of bullets.\r\n\r\nOne of them, as he stooped to get through the fence, felt the hot air\r\nof a bullet passing under his nose.\r\n\r\nHe hastily gave the order to retreat over the \"koppies\" and across the\r\nrailway line, thus entering Pretoria on the opposite side.\r\n\r\nWhen they met again, before entering the town, one of them was\r\nmissing!\r\n\r\nYoung Els had disappeared, and no one knew whether he had been shot or\r\ntaken, or whether he had fallen into some hole and perhaps been so\r\nseverely injured that he could not follow them. His comrades were in\r\ndeep distress. To go back and search for him was impossible, so they\r\nentered the town at the utmost peril of their lives. Torn and\r\nbleeding, they slunk through the streets of Pretoria, avoiding the\r\nlight of the electric lamps, and concealing themselves behind trees at\r\nthe sight of every man in khaki, until they reached Mrs. Malan's\r\nhouse.\r\n\r\nTheir guardian angels must have kept them from going to Mrs. Joubert's\r\nhouse, as usual, that night.\r\n\r\nImagine their surprise and horror when they heard of the betrayal of\r\nthe Committee, for the warning sent out to Skurveberg did not reach\r\nthem, they having come from the High Veld.\r\n\r\nThe news of Jannie's arrest and of Mrs. Joubert's house having been\r\nsearched, and now being so closely watched that they could not\r\npossibly take shelter there, came as a crushing blow.\r\n\r\nTrue to her word, Mrs. Malan determined to shelter them that night,\r\nbut the house being too dangerous a hiding-place, they were stowed\r\naway in Mr. David Malan's waggon-house, closely packed in one small\r\nwaggon, and there they still lay when the van Warmelos heard of their\r\narrival.\r\n\r\nFrom the bosom of her dress Miss Malan produced the dispatches and a\r\nnumber of private letters.\r\n\r\nThe dispatch to the President Hansie offered to send by the first\r\nopportunity, without telling her friends that it would go by the very\r\nnext mail per White Envelope. This was a secret she naturally could\r\nnot divulge to her most trusted fellow-workers, although she could\r\nguarantee that the work would be carried out, and they had enough\r\nconfidence in her to leave the matter in her hands.\r\n\r\nThe letter from the Captain to the Committee was left at Harmony to be\r\nread and destroyed. Needless to say, Hansie, with her mania for\r\ncollecting war-curios, made a full copy of both letter and dispatch in\r\nlemon-juice before regretfully consigning them to the flames. It was\r\nhard to destroy original documents for which such risks had been run!\r\n\r\nWhat was most disconcerting was to hear that the authorities,\r\nevidently aware that the men had come through in spite of having been\r\nfired upon, were searching for them in town. It was imperative that\r\nthey should leave that day, or at least as soon as night fell, for the\r\nrisk they ran was very great.\r\n\r\nHansie promised to think of some way of helping them to escape safely,\r\nand said she would see them in the afternoon.\r\n\r\nThe feeling of responsibility on her young shoulders was very great.\r\nThere was no one to turn to, no man to whom this dangerous mission\r\ncould be entrusted, except one, her young friend, F.\r\n\r\nShe thought of him and wondered whether she could confide to him a\r\nscheme which had been slowly forming in her mind.\r\n\r\nThat afternoon she was on the point of leaving for Mrs. Malan's house,\r\nwith a packet of letters and newspapers, when two lady callers arrived\r\nat Harmony brimming with the news that the town was in a great state\r\nof excitement. Armed soldiers were patrolling the streets, men were\r\nstopped to show their residential passes, and every cab and carriage\r\nwas held up for inspection.\r\n\r\nThe general opinion was that there were spies in town, for the lower\r\npart of the town and west of Market Street were cut off by a patrol,\r\nwhile a systematic search of the private houses was being carried on.\r\n\r\nHansie chafed at the delay, listening with impatience to their excited\r\ntalk, and wondering what they would say if they knew that she was on\r\nthe point of going to those spies with the parcel in her hands.\r\n\r\nBy a happy coincidence, when the callers had taken their departure,\r\nanother visitor arrived--F., the very man she wished to see.\r\n\r\nBut he, too, was full of the excitement in town and did not notice the\r\nunusual anxiety in Hansie's manner.\r\n\r\n\"General Botha has come in 'to negotiate,'\" he said. \"The town is\r\nalive with soldiers, but there must be something else brewing at the\r\nsame time, for every house is being searched, and a cordon has been\r\ndrawn round some parts of the town. It is impossible for any one to\r\nget through from one place to another beyond Market Street.\"\r\n\r\nHansie's heart sank for a moment.\r\n\r\nThen she said: \"I have to go to town at once, F.; will you come with\r\nme? I have a great deal to tell you and we can talk as we go along.\r\nYou remember you once said that I must come to you if ever I got into\r\nany trouble. Well, I am in serious trouble now--not for myself--but,\r\ntell me, have you your residential pass with you?\"\r\n\r\nHe produced it.\r\n\r\nShe continued: \"Then we are safe for the present. Let us sit in the\r\nPark while I tell you in what way I want you to help me.\"\r\n\r\nThey found a secluded spot under one of the trees in Burgher's Park,\r\nand there Hansie took him into her confidence, unfolding her plan to\r\nhim.\r\n\r\n\"If, as you say, F., a cordon is being drawn around the houses that\r\nhave already been searched, those three men may be cut off at any\r\nmoment. They cannot wait where they are at present, no more can they\r\nshow themselves on the streets without residential passes. If you can\r\nhelp me to borrow three passes for them, I myself will walk with them\r\nas far as the wire enclosure and bring the passes back to you.\"\r\n\r\nF. whistled, called her \"plucky,\" but thought the whole thing far too\r\nrisky.\r\n\r\n\"You would all be taken near the wire fence,\" he said, \"and what about\r\nthe men who would be without their passes while you had them?\"\r\n\r\n\"They must not show themselves,\" she said.\r\n\r\n\"And if they are found in their homes?\"\r\n\r\n\"Oh!\" she cried impatiently, \"they must be willing to risk something\r\ntoo.\"\r\n\r\n\"Have you thought of any one?\" he asked.\r\n\r\n\"Yes, I have thought of D. and G., if you will bring them to me. Fetch\r\nthem, F. I'll go and tell the men to wait for the passes. You will\r\nfind me at your gate.\"\r\n\r\n\"But then you would have only two passes, Hansie.\"\r\n\r\nShe looked earnestly into his eyes, and he turned away without a word.\r\n\r\nHe went off in one direction and Hansie in another, and when she\r\nreached Mrs. Malan's house she was told that the three men had decided\r\nto risk the dangers of the street and to leave immediately. In this\r\nthey were impelled, not so much by the consideration of their own\r\nsafety, as the thought of the perils to which they exposed the Malans\r\nby remaining in their house. When Hansie told them she was procuring\r\nresidential passes for them, they held a short consultation and\r\neventually decided to wait another half-hour. With passes in their\r\npockets they would be comparatively safe.\r\n\r\nPromising to come back immediately, Hansie rushed to F.'s rooms, where\r\nshe met him coming through the gate with D. and G.\r\n\r\n\"F.,\" she whispered, \"be quick. They are on the point of leaving.\"\r\n\r\nHe drew her aside and said: \"I am very sorry, Hansie. The fellows\r\nrefuse to lend you their passes.\"\r\n\r\n\"Refuse!\" she echoed in miserable incredulity. \"Refuse! oh Heaven, and\r\nthis means life or death to those men! They _cannot_ appear on the\r\nstreets to-night without passes.\"\r\n\r\n\"It is a great thing to ask, Hansie. You cannot blame them.\"\r\n\r\n\"F., I must once again remind you of your promise. Help me now. I am\r\nnot pleading for myself.\"\r\n\r\nHe drew his residential pass from his pocket and placed it in her\r\nhand, motioning her to go. She gave him a quick look of gratitude, but\r\nreturned the pass with the words, \"No good to me unless I have three.\r\nThink of something else.\"\r\n\r\nHe called to the two other young fellows who were standing moodily\r\napart and ordered them to think.\r\n\r\nThey thought. Perhaps they would have been standing there thinking\r\nstill, if F. had not suddenly burst out with:\r\n\r\n\"Look here, you fellows, it is not safe to stand out here like this,\r\nand we are losing time. Let us go into my room and talk this thing\r\nover.\"\r\n\r\nThey walked rapidly towards the house, where a number of bachelors\r\nlived together, and reached the room unobserved.\r\n\r\nF. drew the blinds, locked the door, and placed Hansie in an easy\r\nchair, while he and D. rummaged in a writing-table for some papers. G.\r\nsat on the bed with his long legs stretched out in front of him.\r\n\r\nThe two young men were whispering together, bending eagerly over some\r\npapers they had found.\r\n\r\n\"This one will do,\" Hansie heard F. say, \"but it will take some time.\"\r\n\r\n\"Don't you think I ought to go and tell the men to wait?\" she asked.\r\n\r\n\"No, better not be seen walking in and out here. We will make haste!\"\r\n\r\nAh, why did Hansie not obey the warning voice within, and go?\r\n\r\nFor the next ten minutes nothing was said. The men cut and glued and\r\ntyped without a word, and the result, when it was placed in Hansie's\r\nhands, was a document exceedingly well-planned and put together.\r\n\r\nThis was what she read:\r\n\r\n\r\n MILITARY GOVERNOR'S OFFICE,\r\n PRETORIA.\r\n\r\n _Special Pass_\r\n\r\n for J.W. Venter, G. Vermaak, and L. Erasmus to be out until\r\n midnight, on Secret Service.\r\n\r\n Signed by MAJOR J. WESTON,\r\n Assistant Military Governor.\r\n\r\nWhat puzzled her at first sight was the small official crown above,\r\nundoubtedly authentic, and the unmistakable signature of the Major\r\nbelow; but on closer inspection, she observed that the part containing\r\nthe original letter had been cut away from the centre, the top part\r\nwith the heading and the bottom part with the signature being pasted\r\ndown on the blank page underneath.\r\n\r\nOn the middle part of the blank sheet the \"Special Pass\" was typed,\r\nand the whole when completed, with the date plainly typed underneath,\r\nlooked like a single sheet of paper folded in three.\r\n\r\nHansie shook hands with them all, and asking G. to go to Harmony to\r\nreassure her mother, she sped on her way to Mrs. Malan's house.\r\n\r\nF. called out after her, \"If you come back this way, Hansie, I'll wait\r\nfor you and see you home.\"\r\n\r\n\"All right, thank you,\" the answer came.\r\n\r\nIt was now past 6 o'clock and nearly dark. Every one else was at\r\nsupper, and Hansie flew through the deserted streets with apprehension\r\nat her heart.\r\n\r\nShe was met at the gate by Mrs. Malan, wringing her hands and crying\r\nout:\r\n\r\n\"Oh, where have you been so long? Why did you not come sooner?\r\n_They've gone!_\"\r\n\r\nThen Hansie felt inclined to lie down and die.\r\n\r\nFortunately there was no time for that.\r\n\r\nThere was still something to be done, and, with the precious paper\r\nclasped to her heart, she could at least pursue the men. Perhaps she\r\ncould overtake them before evil should befall them.\r\n\r\n\"What direction did they take, and how many of them are there?\" she\r\nasked.\r\n\r\n\"Four,\" Mrs. Malan answered. \"One has a residential pass. If they are\r\nheld up, the other three will escape while he pretends to be searching\r\nfor it. Go over the Sunnyside bridge and call 'Jasper' when you see\r\nfour men----\"\r\n\r\nWithout waiting to hear more, Hansie turned and ran, stopping only a\r\nmoment at F.'s gate to call out his name. She did not wait to see\r\nwhether he had heard, but ran again, and he, sauntering towards the\r\ngate a moment later on the look-out for her, saw her flying form just\r\ndisappearing in the darkness.\r\n\r\n\"Something has evidently gone wrong,\" he muttered, and he, too, in his\r\nturn began to run, pursuing the figure of the girl as she sped after\r\nthe Secret Service men.\r\n\r\nShe did not stop when he caught up with her, pulling her arm through\r\nhis, but ran on, telling him in brief sentences what had happened.\r\n\r\nEvery few yards she called, \"Jasper! Jasper!\" in the vain hope that\r\nthis might bring the fugitives forward, should they have concealed\r\nthemselves behind the trees along the road.\r\n\r\nPoor Hansie was becoming thoroughly exhausted, when suddenly, as they\r\nneared the Sunnyside bridge, four men under the electric light became\r\nplainly visible.\r\n\r\n\"You must run again, Hansie,\" F. said, and putting his arm around her,\r\nhe literally carried her along.\r\n\r\nAlas! the figures proved to be four Kaffirs coming _towards_ them,\r\nand, with a broken sob, Hansie realised that all their efforts were in\r\nvain.\r\n\r\nIt was no use running now.\r\n\r\nSunnyside was badly lit, and one could barely see two yards ahead, so\r\nthe plotters walked slowly to Harmony, encouraging one another with\r\nthe thought that the men must already be beyond the outskirts of the\r\ntown.\r\n\r\n\"We have heard no shots, and that is a good sign,\" Hansie said, \"for\r\nthe men were armed, and in the event of a surprise they meant to fight\r\nfor their lives.\"\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nCHAPTER XXIX\r\n\r\nA WAR-BABY AND A CURIOUS CHRISTENING\r\n\r\n\r\nAs far as was known, no men were arrested that night.\r\n\r\nThe man who had escorted the spies through Sunnyside and over the\r\nrailway line, the dauntless van der Westhuizen with the bandaged arm,\r\nhad left them not far from the wire enclosure, and had then waited\r\nsome time, listening for sounds of commotion.\r\n\r\nAs no shots had broken the stillness of the night, he had every reason\r\nto believe that they had escaped with their lives.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nFor some weeks there was a \"lull in spies.\" But there was no lack of\r\nother sensations, for September 1901 will ever be remembered as one of\r\nthe most trying months throughout the year of the war.\r\n\r\nIt reminded one of that September month before war was declared, when\r\nthe air was filled with the sweet, penetrating odour of\r\norange-blossoms and many hearts were torn with the agony of suspense\r\nand a feeling of impending disaster.\r\n\r\nAgain the orange trees were in full bloom, bringing back to one's\r\nsenses the remembrance of past suffering, and the full realisation of\r\npresent horror and unrest.\r\n\r\nThe great weeping-willows were showing their first mysterious tinge of\r\npale yellowish green, and Hansie, watching them, wondered what\r\ndevelopments would have taken place before those overhanging branches\r\nwould be crowned with the full beauty of midsummer. September 1901 was\r\na month of proclamations and peace negotiations, all of which \"ended\r\nin smoke.\"\r\n\r\nAfter General Botha's visit to Pretoria the Boers concentrated their\r\nforces around the capital, strong commandos under General Botha, de la\r\nRey, Beyers, and Viljoen. It was said that there were quite 6,000\r\ntroops in town awaiting developments, and Hansie coming home one\r\nevening, surprised her mother by saying that \"Khaki was in the deuce\r\nof a funk!\"\r\n\r\nHer mother remonstrated with her, expressing her strong disapproval of\r\nsuch language, but Hansie only laughed.\r\n\r\n\"I was told so in town, mother. The enemy seems to expect our people\r\nto sweep through the town, if only to release our prisoners. How I\r\nwish they would come and carry off some of our splendid men in the\r\njail and Rest Camp!\"\r\n\r\nThe fate of the Committee men had not yet been decided.\r\n\r\nAs they were kept in solitary confinement and naturally not allowed to\r\nhold communication with any of their friends, nothing was known at the\r\ntime of the troubles undergone by them, and it was some years after\r\nthe war before Hansie came into full possession of the facts.\r\n\r\nTen men in all had been taken that night, the five members of the\r\nCommittee and five other men in their service, and they were kept\r\nseparate, not being allowed to see one another during the sixteen days\r\nof their imprisonment in the Pretoria jail.\r\n\r\nNow, the remarkable part about this story is, that though nothing had\r\nbeen arranged between these men in the event of an arrest, no line of\r\naction agreed upon by them by which they could safely guard themselves\r\nand their friends, they one and all adopted the same policy under the\r\nsevere cross-questioning to which they were subjected in their cells.\r\n\r\nMy readers must understand that trials under martial law are not\r\nnecessarily conducted with the ordinary formalities of a court of\r\njustice; in fact, in the case of these men it cannot be said that\r\nthere was a trial at all, for they were cross-questioned in their\r\ncells apart, and without witnesses.\r\n\r\nThey never saw the light of day except for a ten-minutes' exercise in\r\nthe prison-yard every morning; and, on comparing notes afterwards,\r\nthey found that they had been subjected to the same treatment\r\nundergone by the unfortunate men who had turned King's evidence and\r\nwho had been the cause of their undoing. To some of them the death\r\nsentence was read at night, with a promise of pardon if they betrayed\r\nthe names of their fellow-conspirators in town, and sometimes they\r\nwere visited in their cells by officers who informed them that one or\r\nother of their fellow-prisoners had \"given away the show.\"\r\n\r\n\"You may safely speak out now, for we know everything. So-and-so has\r\nturned King's evidence.\" But these brave men saw through the ruse,\r\nand steadfastly refused to sell their honour for their lives. With\r\none accord they answered, \"So-and-so may have given you information,\r\nbut _I_ know nothing.\"\r\n\r\nThey were subjected to severe treatment, half-starved, threatened,\r\ntold that they were condemned to death, and then severely left alone\r\nwith the sword hanging over their heads--to no avail. Not a word of\r\ninformation was wrung from them, no murmur of complaint crossed their\r\nlips.\r\n\r\nThis lasted sixteen days, and during that time they suffered\r\nintensely, the food being unfit for consumption and their surroundings\r\nfilthy beyond words. As I have said before, there were among their\r\nnumber men physically unfit for hardships like these.\r\n\r\nMr. Willem Botha was one of them, and as the days dragged on, the\r\nheadaches with which he was afflicted became more frequent and\r\nincreased in violence.\r\n\r\nHe feared that he would lose his reason and, in losing it, betray all\r\nto his jailers, and he was consumed with anxiety for his wife.\r\n\r\nAfter the first shock of his arrest, he was suddenly overwhelmed with\r\nthe recollection that he had forgotten to destroy the slip of paper on\r\nwhich the message concerning the Boer traitor in the Free State had\r\nbeen conveyed to him through a prisoner in the Rest Camp. He tried to\r\nremember what he had done with it, but in vain. Each day found him\r\ntorn with anxiety, searching his memory for the threads of\r\nrecollection, broken in the stress of the last stirring events before\r\nhis arrest. Suddenly one day it flashed across his mind that he had\r\npushed the slip of paper between the tattered leaves of an old\r\nhymn-book.\r\n\r\nBitterly he reproached himself with his unpardonable negligence. That\r\nslip of paper, containing injunctions to the Committee to convey\r\ninformation of such a serious character to the Boer leaders, would be\r\nsufficient proof against him and his fellows. No other evidence would\r\nbe required to bring them to their death, if it had fallen into the\r\nhands of the enemy.\r\n\r\nThe unfortunate man, in his prison cell, prayed for deliverance, not\r\nonly for himself, but for the trusty comrades who would be exposed to\r\nsuch deadly peril by this, his one act of indiscretion.\r\n\r\nThe weary days dragged on.\r\n\r\nSuffering, not to be described by words, was the daily portion of this\r\nman.\r\n\r\nHis fellow-prisoners shared the same fate, with one exception.\r\n\r\nMr. Hattingh in his prison cell, who had been taken in his deacon's\r\nfrock-coat that Sunday night, reaped the rewards of the sagacity he\r\nhad displayed on the occasion of the visit to his house of the\r\nJudas-Boer.\r\n\r\nThere was a marked difference in the treatment he received at the hands\r\nof his jailers. He was not once condemned to death, and he was hardly\r\ncross-questioned during the entire term of his imprisonment--better\r\nfood, kinder treatment being accorded him than to any of his fellows,\r\nas he found on comparing notes with them afterwards.\r\n\r\nIt was quite evident that he was the only man about whose guilt the\r\nenemy was in a certain amount of doubt.\r\n\r\nHis family, too, was privileged, his wife being allowed a few days'\r\ngrace to sell her household goods before she was conveyed to a camp\r\nwith her children, while the families of the other men were instantly\r\nremoved and their homes taken into possession by the English.\r\n\r\nIf the enemy had only known it, Mr. Hattingh, who was known for his\r\nuprightness and moral integrity, had no intention of perjuring himself\r\nin the witness-box, but had fully made up his mind to confess his\r\ncomplicity and to face his death like a man and a patriot.\r\n\r\nThere is no doubt that this brave man would have been endowed with the\r\nrequired courage to uphold his word when the hour came, but it is\r\nequally certain that no word of accusation in evidence against his\r\nfellow-conspirators would have been wrung from his lips.\r\n\r\nWhen at the end of the sixteen days no proof of their guilt had been\r\nfound, their captors, recognising and appreciating their staunch\r\nfidelity and unswerving loyalty, removed them from their cells in the\r\ndreary jail to the Rest Camp, where they were able to enjoy the\r\nprivileges of the ordinary prisoners of war, and refreshing\r\nintercourse with their brothers from the field.\r\n\r\nBut before they were admitted to the Rest Camp they were brought one\r\nby one into the presence of a British officer, who pompously read\r\ntheir sentence to them.\r\n\r\nHow the other men passed through their interview with him I do not\r\nknow, but Mr. Hattingh's story, told in his own words, runs thus:\r\n\r\nAfter a few questions had been put, the British officer said to him:\r\n\r\n\"You have been found guilty of high treason, but Lord Kitchener has\r\nbeen kind enough to commute your sentence to banishment as prisoner of\r\nwar.\"\r\n\r\n\"But how could you find me guilty?\" Mr. Hattingh asked. \"I have never\r\nbeen tried.\"\r\n\r\n\"Be silent,\" the officer commanded sternly. \"You have nothing to say.\"\r\n\r\nMr. Hattingh says he was only too glad to \"be silent,\" and betook\r\nhimself to the Rest Camp with alacrity.\r\n\r\nDuring the weeks of their imprisonment in the jail those at Harmony\r\nwere not living in a bed of roses.\r\n\r\nOf Willie Botha's loyalty they never had a doubt, but the other men\r\nwere unknown to them, and they knew that all were aware of the part\r\nplayed by them in the Secret Service. And even if they were not\r\nbetrayed by one of the prisoners, it was a mystery that they had not\r\nbeen betrayed _with_ them.\r\n\r\nMany of their friends, the families of the men in jail, had been sent\r\nto Camps or across the border, and no one was more surprised at\r\nfinding themselves still in Pretoria than Mrs. van Warmelo and her\r\ndaughter.\r\n\r\nThey felt the strain, the uncertainty of their position keenly, and\r\nthroughout those weeks they were obliged to conceal from their good\r\nfriends, the Consuls and their families, the danger to which they were\r\nexposed and the intense anxiety with which they were filled, not only\r\non their own account, but for those brave men in the Pretoria jail.\r\n\r\nTowards the end of September, when the prisoners had been removed to\r\nthe Rest Camp, a baby-girl was born in Willie Botha's house.\r\n\r\nThe mother had been left undisturbed in her home, a consideration for\r\nwhich she and all who were concerned for her were devoutly grateful,\r\nand now she had passed through the portals of Gethsemane and the wide\r\ngates of Eden, in the bitter-sweet experiences of motherhood.\r\n\r\nThe news of the birth of a daughter was duly conveyed to Willie Botha\r\nin the Rest Camp, with a request to the authorities to allow him to\r\nvisit his wife and see his child before leaving South Africa's shores\r\nfor Bermuda.\r\n\r\nPermission was granted for a two-hours' visit.\r\n\r\nAn armed soldier escorted him to his home and sat outside, under the\r\nverandah, drinking coffee and enjoying the good things with which he\r\nhad been provided, while, inside, his prisoner, speechless with\r\nemotion, knelt beside the mother's bed, showering kisses on the tiny\r\nfeet of his infant daughter.\r\n\r\nWhen the first greetings were over Mr. Botha said:\r\n\r\n\"Wife, what became of that old hymn-book which was standing on the\r\nshelf in the dining-room?\"\r\n\r\n\"I don't know,\" she answered; \"I suppose it was taken away by Elliot\r\nwith all the other books and papers.\"\r\n\r\n\"Elliot!\" he muttered between his teeth.\r\n\r\n\"Elliot, betrayer of friends, and Judas-Boer!\"\r\n\r\nThis man had been intimately known to them all, had, in fact, for many\r\nmonths lived with his wife and family, as guest and friend, under the\r\nhospitable roof of Mr. and Mrs. Hattingh, at whose hands they received\r\ninnumerable acts of love and kindness.\r\n\r\nElliot was the man by whom the members of the Secret Committee were\r\narrested that Sunday night.\r\n\r\nVerily it can be said of him--\r\n\r\n\"For it was not an enemy that reproached me; then I could have borne\r\nit; neither was it he that hated me that did magnify himself against\r\nme; then I would have hid myself from him. But it was thou, a man my\r\nequal, my guide, and my acquaintance. We took sweet counsel together,\r\nand walked unto the house of God in company.\"\r\n\r\nThe occasion of Willie Botha's visit having been made to serve at the\r\nsame time as a christening, there were quiet, sacred rejoicings when\r\nthe minister, who had in the meantime arrived, performed the ceremony.\r\n\r\nAs soon as the service was over Mr. Botha walked rapidly to the\r\ndining-room and glanced over the empty book-shelves. Nothing there!\r\n\r\nHe stood on tiptoe for a moment, surveying the topmost shelf, and was\r\nabout to turn away disappointed, when his eye fell on the tattered\r\npsalm-book, lying unnoticed in a corner of the shelf.\r\n\r\nHe could hardly believe his eyes! He pounced on the book, turning over\r\nthe pages in the greatest agitation and suspense.\r\n\r\nThe fateful slip of paper fell into his hands!\r\n\r\nTriumphantly he marched back to his wife's bedroom and held the magic\r\npaper before her astonished eyes, telling her of the sleepless nights\r\nand days of suspense he had endured through it.\r\n\r\nWith unspeakable thankfulness in their hearts, they then and there\r\nreduced the fragment of paper to ashes, thanking God for His wonderful\r\ndeliverance.\r\n\r\nBut the hour of parting was now at hand--and over this, good reader,\r\nwe must draw the veil.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nOn their way back to the Rest Camp the armed escort, becoming\r\nconfidential, positively assured his charge that peace would be\r\nproclaimed before October 10th. The \"Powers\" had intervened, he said,\r\nand the English were leaving the country!\r\n\r\nHe was an Irishman.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nCHAPTER XXX\r\n\r\nFORMING A NEW COMMITTEE\r\n\r\n\r\nNot until it became positively known at Harmony, towards the middle of\r\nOctober, that the members of the Secret Committee had been sent away\r\nto Bermuda, did Mrs. van Warmelo and Hansie breathe freely again.\r\n\r\nThe suspense of five full weeks was over at last, a suspense not to be\r\ndescribed, and never to be forgotten by those who endured it.\r\n\r\nIt did not seem possible to grasp the fact that those brave men had\r\nescaped with their lives, and Hansie, looking up at the stars that\r\nnight, felt that she had learnt something of unspeakable value in the\r\nrelief and gratitude with which that period of concentrated suffering\r\nhad been followed.\r\n\r\nCarlo looked up at the stars too, for he invariably followed his young\r\nmistress's gaze, but on this occasion, seeing nothing unusual in that\r\nvast expanse, he stood up on his hind legs before her and gave a short\r\nbark of inquiry.\r\n\r\n\"They have gone, Carlo,\" she said. \"I know you won't believe it, but\r\nthey have really gone, and if 'Gentleman Jim' knew anything about\r\nthis, he would surely say, 'I 'spose their time hadn't come yet,\r\nlittle missie.' That's it, Carlo. Their time had not come yet. But\r\nthey have left things in a fearful muddle, and we will have to work as\r\nwe never worked before. The first thing to be done to-morrow morning\r\nwill be----\"\r\n\r\nShe stopped suddenly--not even to her faithful Carlo could she confide\r\nthe secret plan which she had made for reorganising and\r\nre-establishing on a safer footing the Secret Service of the Boers in\r\ntown.\r\n\r\nShe would form a new Committee, of five women this time, who would\r\ncarry on the work on the same lines which had been adopted by the\r\nSecret Committee, and this plan, when she unfolded it to her mother\r\nthat night, was received with warm approval.\r\n\r\nThe first and last meeting was held at Harmony on October 15th and was\r\nattended by Mrs. Malan, Mrs. Armstrong, Mrs. Honey, Mrs. van Warmelo,\r\nand Hansie, who was appointed secretary.\r\n\r\nBound together by the sacred oath of fidelity and secrecy, these five\r\nwomen vowed to serve their country and people, as an organised body of\r\nworkers, as long as they had the power to do so.\r\n\r\nOn the occasion of his next visit to the capital Captain Naudé was to\r\nbe informed of the formation of the new Committee, but for the rest\r\nits very existence was to be kept a dead secret.\r\n\r\nMrs. van Warmelo told the members that she was in a position to\r\ncommunicate with the President in Holland by every mail, and that the\r\nmethods employed by her would be revealed to them _after the war_.\r\nWith this they expressed themselves satisfied, willingly leaving the\r\nmatter of sending away dispatches from the field in Mrs. van Warmelo's\r\ncapable hands.\r\n\r\nIt was felt that the greatest responsibility resting on them at the\r\ntime was to have a suitable place of refuge ready to receive the\r\nCaptain when next he entered the town.\r\n\r\nThere was no house free from suspicion since the arrest of the\r\nCommittee, except--except--Harmony!\r\n\r\nHarmony, surrounded as it was by British officers and their staffs, by\r\nBritish troops and Military Mounted Police--Harmony was at last chosen\r\nas the most suitable, the only spot in Pretoria in which the Captain\r\nof the Secret Service could be harboured with any degree of safety.\r\n\r\nIt was arranged that he would immediately be brought to Harmony when\r\nhe came again, and in the meantime the Committee would be on the\r\nlook-out for an opportunity to send a warning and instructions out to\r\nhim not to approach the houses hitherto frequented by him.\r\n\r\nFor many weeks no spies belonging to his set came into town. No war\r\nnews of any description reached his friends, except one day the\r\ninformation, conveyed we know not how, of the safe arrival at the\r\nSkurvebergen of young Els, the spy who had been fired upon and was\r\nmissing from his companions on that eventful September 12th. That this\r\nnews gave his relatives and friends great joy and relief after the\r\nintense anxiety gone through on his account, my readers will readily\r\nunderstand.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nThe discovery of the White Envelope was not always a source of unmixed\r\nsatisfaction.\r\n\r\nOne of them, containing news of the betrayal and arrest of the\r\nCommittee, and sent to Alphen in the ordinary way, failed to reach\r\nits destination. This caused the senders so much anxiety that for some\r\ntime they did not dare risk the sending of another. The letter might\r\nhave fallen into the hands of the censors and the secret be discovered\r\nby them, in which event they were probably waiting quietly to catch up\r\nfurther information.\r\n\r\nIt may have been only a coincidence, but at this time the plotters at\r\nHarmony observed that the censorship on _their_ post had been\r\nwithdrawn altogether.\r\n\r\nThey knew only too well what this meant! And their hearts sank when\r\nthey thought of the White Envelope!\r\n\r\nIt meant, good reader, that there was a most disquieting increase in\r\nthe vigilance of the censor; it meant that their letters were opened\r\n_by steam_, to throw them off their guard, and to encourage them to\r\nwrite with greater frankness to their absent friends.\r\n\r\nMother and daughter felt the hair rising on their heads when they\r\nthought of one of their precious White Envelopes being subjected to a\r\ntreatment of _steam_ by the censor, and of his exultation on beholding\r\nthe result.\r\n\r\nAs the days went by, their dread of him and his evil machinations\r\nincreased, for hardly a letter reached them that did not betray traces\r\nof his handiwork--or unhandiwork, for he was not always judicious in\r\nthe quantity of glue used by him in reclosing the envelopes. He should\r\nhave been a little more economical in the use of Government property\r\nif he really wished to hoodwink his enemies, and he would have saved\r\nMrs. van Warmelo the trouble of damping the envelopes afterwards where\r\nthey stuck, on the inside, to the letters.\r\n\r\nWhile the steaming process was being carried on at the General Post\r\nOffice, no White Envelopes were taken to the censor, but they were\r\nposted at Johannesburg by friends, and in this way the distant\r\ncorrespondents were warned of danger, until it became evident that the\r\nsteam-censorship had been withdrawn and the old reassuring order of\r\nthings been established once more.\r\n\r\nA week or two later another White Envelope from Holland reached\r\nHarmony in safety, by which it was known that the secret was still\r\nundiscovered, but the fate of the missing envelope remained a mystery\r\nto the end, and was a constant reminder and warning to the\r\nconspirators to be careful in the use of their priceless secret.\r\n\r\nI am sure the Post Office officials had plenty to do during the war,\r\nbut there is no doubt that their labours were considerably lightened\r\nby the \"smugglers\" who chose to dispense with the services of the\r\ncensors entirely. And then we must not forget the activities of the\r\nspies and of their fellow-workers in town.\r\n\r\nQuite a large private postal service was carried on by them, as we all\r\nknow, and every week, before the entry into Pretoria became so\r\ndifficult and dangerous, hundreds of letters were carried backwards\r\nand forwards, to and from the commandos.\r\n\r\nOne man in town was in the habit of receiving great batches of these\r\nsmuggled letters, which he distributed to the various addresses, until\r\none day he was very nearly caught. He had just received a packet of\r\ncommunications \"from the front\" and had opened it on his writing-table\r\nin his quiet study, when the doors were opened unceremoniously and\r\nsome officials entered with a warrant to search his house. Carpets\r\nwere taken up, walls were tapped, furniture was overturned and\r\nexamined, books were removed from their shelves and every cranny\r\ninspected with the greatest thoroughness, but the pile of letters\r\nlying open on his writing-table, over which they had found him bending\r\nwhen they entered the room, was passed over without so much as a\r\nglance.\r\n\r\nThis may sound a bit unreal, unlikely, but there are similar cases on\r\nrecord, which we know to be true beyond a doubt, and one of these I\r\nmust relate, because it so closely concerned our friends at Harmony\r\nand so very nearly proved to be their undoing. They did not know it at\r\nthe time, but were told by Mrs. Cloete, after the war, that she had\r\nsent all their uncensored, their \"smuggled\" letters, to her friend at\r\nCapetown, Mrs. Koopmans de Wet, with instructions to read and return\r\nthem to her as soon as possible, which Mrs. Koopmans had done, with\r\nthe alarming news that her house had been thoroughly searched for\r\ndocuments while the pile of letters was lying open on her\r\nwriting-table.\r\n\r\nThe authorities must have been \"struck blind,\" she had said, for\r\nthough they had overhauled the place and had taken away with them\r\nevery suspicious-looking document, they had passed and repassed the\r\npapers on her table without a word and with nothing more than a\r\nsuperficial glance.\r\n\r\nThis information had alarmed Mrs. Cloete so much that she had\r\nimmediately packed every incriminating letter and all her White\r\nEnvelopes into a tin, which she secretly buried, with the help of her\r\nGerman nurse, under one of the trees at Alphen.\r\n\r\nAnd there they, or what is left of them after ten years, still lie,\r\nfor the spot has never again been found, although every effort was\r\nmade to do so.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nCHAPTER XXXI\r\n\r\n\"TEA FOR TWO\"\r\n\r\n\r\nIt was at the time when the northern territories were being swept by\r\nthe enemy for the first time that Mrs. van Warmelo heard that a\r\nrelative of hers had been put over the border, and was staying with\r\nher husband at the Grand Hotel in Pretoria.\r\n\r\nShe therefore asked Hansie to call at the hotel to inquire whether she\r\ncould be of any assistance to them in their trouble, and Hansie donned\r\nher prettiest frock that very afternoon on her \"calling\" expedition,\r\nCarlo walking with unusual sedateness by her side.\r\n\r\n\"We'll go and see General Maxwell too this afternoon, Carlo,\" she\r\nsaid, \"and see whether we can get that permit. Always put on your best\r\nclothes when you go to the Military Governor, my boy. You'll find that\r\nTommy Atkins never keeps you waiting then.\"\r\n\r\nArrived at the hotel, she suddenly remembered that she had forgotten\r\nher young relative's name, and did not know whom to ask for.\r\n\r\nShe was waited upon by a hall-porter, who watched her with a face of\r\nstolid patience while she searched her memory for the forgotten name.\r\n\r\nAt last she said: \"The lady I want was a Miss Maré, but she has\r\nmarried an Englishman since last I saw her, and I have forgotten his\r\nname. Can you tell me whether there is a young couple with a baby,\r\nfrom Zoutpansberg, staying at the hotel?\"\r\n\r\n\"I'll find out, miss.\"\r\n\r\nHe came back with the information that there were four young couples\r\nfrom Zoutpansberg, each with a baby.\r\n\r\nHansie wondered that he did not smile.\r\n\r\n\"Are they all in?\" she asked.\r\n\r\n\"Some are in and some are out,\" he said.\r\n\r\nSuddenly he seemed to wake up.\r\n\r\n\"Would it be any help if I told you their names?\" he inquired.\r\n\r\n\"Yes, indeed,\" she exclaimed; \"I would know the name at once if I\r\nheard it.\"\r\n\r\nHe brought her the book in which the names of visitors were entered,\r\nand read one name after the other slowly.\r\n\r\n\"That's it,\" Hansie said. \"Knevitt! Is Mrs. Knevitt in?\"\r\n\r\n\"No, miss, she is out, and I happen to know that she is leaving again\r\nsoon. They only arrived yesterday. They were put over the border by\r\nthe Boers.\"\r\n\r\n\"I don't understand,\" Hansie answered.\r\n\r\n\"Don't you see, miss? The Boers are still in possession of\r\nPietersburg, and Mr. Knevitt, as a British subject, has been put over\r\nthe border.\"\r\n\r\n\"Oh yes, I see. Well, will you please give these cards to Mrs. Knevitt\r\nwhen she comes in?\"\r\n\r\nOnce on the street, Hansie again addressed herself to her faithful\r\ncompanion:\r\n\r\n\"It is not hard to believe that the world is turning round, Carlo,\r\nwhen one has to believe that Pretoria is the other side of one's own\r\nborder. I wonder what our next sensation is to be.\"\r\n\r\nShe was soon to find out.\r\n\r\nThe Military Governor was engaged, and she was shown into the office\r\nof an under official, a tall, fair man whose name she did not catch.\r\n\r\nShe was politely asked to take a seat and the nature of her business\r\ninquired into.\r\n\r\nThe tall, fair man bent over some papers he had before him and toyed\r\nwith a gold pencil, while she stated her case as clearly and concisely\r\nas she could.\r\n\r\nHe asked her a few questions, with long pauses in between, and again\r\nbent over his papers, making pencil marks and turning the pages over\r\nslowly.\r\n\r\nThe silvery chime of a tiny clock told the hour of five.\r\n\r\n\"You--er--will have some tea?\"\r\n\r\n\"No, thank you,\" surprised.\r\n\r\nA moment's silence, then he pressed an electric bell at his right\r\nhand.\r\n\r\nAn immaculate \"Buttons\" instantly appeared.\r\n\r\n\"Tea for two,\" the officer commanded, without raising his head.\r\n\r\nButtons disappeared, to return in an incredibly short time, bearing\r\naloft a well-appointed _tête-à-tête_.\r\n\r\nWhen he had withdrawn, the hospitable officer, of whom it could well\r\nbe said that \"he had a teapot in his soul,\" poured out two cups of tea\r\nwith an abstracted air, pushed one towards Hansie with his right hand,\r\nwhile he slowly stirred his own with his left.\r\n\r\n\"Have some tea,\" he said persuasively.\r\n\r\nThere was no answer, and he again bent over the work with which he was\r\noccupied.\r\n\r\nHansie got up quietly and left the room, but she had not gone many\r\nyards in the long corridor before she became aware of hurried\r\nfootsteps following.\r\n\r\nIt was the tall officer, very straight now, who called out to her:\r\n\r\n\"Stop, stop a moment. Where are you going?\"\r\n\r\nWithout turning round she replied:\r\n\r\n\"To General Maxwell. He _never_ keeps me waiting,\" and walked on\r\nrapidly.\r\n\r\n\"Don't go,\" he implored. \"Come back to my office. I have your permits\r\nquite ready for you. I was busy with them all the time.\"\r\n\r\nShe turned round slowly and walked back with him to his office.\r\n\r\n\"Thank you _very_ much,\" she said as she took the papers from his\r\nhand.\r\n\r\nHe opened the door for her with exaggerated courtesy, and she went on\r\nher way, brimming over with delight.\r\n\r\n\"I missed two teas this afternoon, but I got my permits and came off\r\nwith flying colours,\" she confided to her dumb companion. \"Let us go\r\nhome and tell the mother all about it, Carlo mine.\"\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nCHAPTER XXXII\r\n\r\nKIDNAPPING MAUSER THE KITTEN\r\n\r\n\r\nOne afternoon when Mrs. van Warmelo and Hansie were returning home, as\r\nthey passed the house occupied by one of the biggest \"lords\" in the\r\nBritish Army, they saw an exquisite black kitten sitting on the steps\r\nleading from the street to the garden.\r\n\r\nSuch a kitten! Coal black she was, except for a snowy shirt front and\r\nfour dainty, snow-white paws.\r\n\r\nA delicate ribbon of pale blue satin was fastened in a bow round her\r\nneck, and she blinked at the passers-by in friendly consciousness of\r\nher superior beauty.\r\n\r\n\"Oh, you darling!\" Hansie exclaimed. \"I wish you belonged to me!\"\r\n\r\n\"She does,\" Mrs. van Warmelo answered, and stooping, she picked up the\r\nunresisting kitten and placed it in her daughter's arms.\r\n\r\nIt was done in a moment and was meant for a joke, but Hansie took the\r\nmatter seriously and walked on, rapturously caressing her small\r\n\"trophy of the war.\"\r\n\r\n\"Hansie, put that cat down,\" Mrs. van Warmelo said, looking anxiously\r\nup and down the street.\r\n\r\n\"No indeed, mother; you gave her to me.\"\r\n\r\n\"You know very well I did not mean you to keep her. I decline to have\r\nanything more to do with the matter.\"\r\n\r\nShe walked rapidly on and Hansie followed in some uncertainty, but\r\nholding on to her new-found treasure as if her life depended upon it.\r\n\r\nSoon she caught up with her indignant parent and said in a\r\nconciliatory tone of voice:\r\n\r\n\"Surely, mother, you don't suppose I would steal a cat from any one\r\nelse! But Lord ---- is trying to take my country, why should I not\r\ntake his cat?\"\r\n\r\n\"Two wrongs never made one right,\" her mother answered, \"but do as you\r\nplease. You always do.\"\r\n\r\nHansie kept that kitten and, after Carlo, loved it better than any\r\nother pet, and even Mrs. van Warmelo relented as she watched the\r\nplayful creature hiding in the shadows and springing out at every\r\npasser-by.\r\n\r\n\"What are you going to call her?\" she asked her daughter.\r\n\r\n\"Oh, I don't know. Perhaps I'll go and ask Lord ---- what _he_ called\r\nher.\"\r\n\r\nShe stopped, observing her mother's frown, and then went on:\r\n\r\n\"We must think of a name, a nice, appropriate war name.\"\r\n\r\nA few moments later the kitten crept into a corner, with a small mouse\r\nheld firmly between her jaws.\r\n\r\n\"Oh, mother, look, she has caught a mouse already. She is going to be\r\na splendid mouser. And oh, now I have a name for her. We'll call her\r\n'_Mauser_,' mother dear!\"\r\n\r\nSo be it. \"Mauser\" is her name, and hereafter she may be seen\r\ninvariably in Hansie's company, a welcome addition to the small,\r\nharmonious family.\r\n\r\nPerched on Hansie's shoulder as she sat reading under the verandah, or\r\npurring round her as she lay under the trees, with Carlo watching by\r\nher side, Mauser was ever to be found where her young mistress was;\r\nand when the latter went to town she and Carlo were invariably\r\nescorted to the gate by the faithful Mauser, who again welcomed them\r\non their return.\r\n\r\nThis kidnapping episode had taken place a few months after the British\r\nentry into Pretoria.\r\n\r\nA full year had gone by; and Mauser, the kitten, had developed into a\r\nbeautiful full-grown cat and was the mother of five mischievous little\r\nones, grey-striped and very wild, for whom she had made a home in a\r\ndeep hollow in the trunk of one of the big weeping-willows, the very\r\ntree under which \"Gentleman Jim\" had built his small kitchen of\r\ncorrugated iron.\r\n\r\nIt is a stormy night in November 1901, a month remembered by all for\r\nthe violence and frequency of its storms.\r\n\r\nHansie is bending over her diary, trying to make her entries between\r\nthe crashes with which the house is shaken.\r\n\r\nHer mother is lying on a couch near by; her tired eyes are closed, but\r\nshe is not asleep. Who could sleep in such a storm?\r\n\r\nPerhaps we may be allowed to look over the writer's shoulder.\r\n\r\n\"Nov. 8th, Friday, 10 o'clock p.m.\r\n\r\n\"And this terrific storm has been raging for hours! It seems\r\nincredible.\r\n\r\n\"It was the same last night and the night before. As I write, the roar\r\nof thunder never once breaks off, peal after peal, crash after crash,\r\nvivid, dazzling flashes of lightning, torrents of rain mixed with\r\nhail, and a howling wind.\r\n\r\n\"Such a night is never to be forgotten.\r\n\r\n\"One is thrilled and impressed by its magnificence, by its awful\r\ngrandeur and its majesty, and yet I think one would go mad if it\r\ncontinued for any length of time.\r\n\r\n\"I feel as if _I_ am going mad with the thought of our thousands and\r\nthousands of women and tender little children exposed to all this\r\nfury....\r\n\r\n\"Where is the God of pity to-night?\r\n\r\n\"Surely not in our desolate land, not in our ruined homes--_not in\r\nSouth Africa_!\r\n\r\n\"The fourth storm within a few hours, each more violent than the last,\r\nis just approaching, and this one threatens to surpass the others in\r\nunabated fury.\r\n\r\n\"The Lord hath turned His face from us.\r\n\r\n\"The hand of the Lord is laid heavily upon us. His ear is deaf to our\r\ncries and supplications. I cannot write, my soul is crushed by the\r\nsorrow, suffering, and sin around me....\r\n\r\n\"I feel better now, but the struggle has been great....\r\n\r\n\"At the front, fierce blows have been struck lately. Our men are\r\nfighting as they never fought before....\r\n\r\n\"How the storm rages on! In my sheltered home, safe from the fury of\r\nthe elements, I think I suffer more than the women under canvas, for\r\n_their_ sakes....\r\n\r\n\"The letter I have before me must be answered now. He asks me to bind\r\nmyself to him definitely....\r\n\r\n\"I have decided to do so. It is a weighty step, and God knows....\r\n\r\n\"But I have long prayed for guidance, and it seems to me clear enough\r\nthat we are destined for one another.\r\n\r\n\"So to-night, in this raging storm, with a heart filled with the\r\ndesolation of land and people, the blackness of the present, the\r\nhopeless misery of the future, I am going to write the words which\r\nwill bind me for ever to L.E.B.\r\n\r\n\"Strange betrothal! Strange sequel to a stormy life!\r\n\r\n\"But perhaps--perhaps, the future holds something for me of calm and\r\npeace....\"\r\n\r\nWith throbbing brow she went out into the night to watch the storm,\r\nfrom a sheltered corner under the verandah.\r\n\r\nNothing fascinated her so much.\r\n\r\nSuddenly a blinding flash, accompanied by a sound like the sharp\r\ncracking of a whip and instantly followed by a deafening roar of\r\nthunder, drove her to her mother's side.\r\n\r\n\"Are you all right, mother? That bolt fell very near. I thought it\r\nstruck the house.\"\r\n\r\n\"It was frightfully close,\" Mrs. van Warmelo answered.\r\n\r\n\"Come and sit beside me here. I am quite sure one of our big trees has\r\nbeen struck.\"\r\n\r\nShe was right, for walking through the demolished garden next morning,\r\nthey came upon the spot where the bolt had fallen and found one of the\r\ngigantic willow trees furrowed from top to bottom, with the outer bark\r\nscorched and curled up like paper and the white bark showing\r\nunderneath.\r\n\r\nJim was breaking down his little kitchen with all the speed he could.\r\n\r\n\"What are you doing, Jim?\" Hansie asked.\r\n\r\n\"Jim's shifting,\" was the answer, soberly and sadly made.\r\n\r\n\"But the storm is over. All the danger is past. You can safely stay on\r\nnow.\"\r\n\r\n\"No fear, little missie. The Big Baas was very cross last night, and\r\nwhen Him cross He don't care what He do. Jim want to live a little\r\nlonger.\"\r\n\r\nHansie laughed.\r\n\r\n\"I wonder where Mauser could have been with her kittens last night!\"\r\nshe exclaimed, putting her hand into the deep hollow of the tree. \"The\r\nnest is empty. Do you know, Jim?\"\r\n\r\n\"No, little Missie. I 'spose Mauser's time had not come yet,\" he said,\r\nwith stolid philosophy.\r\n\r\n\"I suppose not.\"\r\n\r\nBut alas, alas! Mauser's time was soon to come, for the soldiers,\r\nsetting a strong trap to catch a wild cat which was nightly plundering\r\nthem of their meat ration, caught Hansie's beloved Mauser instead,\r\nkilling her instantly.\r\n\r\nNo reproaches from her mother were added to her keen remorse as she\r\nbent over the motherless kittens, whispering: \"_I_ will care for you,\r\nas _she_ would have done; but oh, remember this, that honesty is the\r\nbest policy, and all is _not_ fair in love and war.\"\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nTragedy was in the air.\r\n\r\nA bee-keeper came to Harmony one morning to help Mrs. van Warmelo to\r\ntake out honey from the hives, and this disturbance, combined with the\r\nfact that the soldiers had unwisely set up a smithy near the beehives\r\nunder the row of blue-gum trees dividing their camp from Harmony,\r\nenraged the bees so much with the noise and the smoke and heat of the\r\nsmithy fires, that they attacked man and beast in vicious fury.\r\n\r\n [Illustration: THE APIARY, HARMONY.]\r\n\r\nIn a few moments all was confusion.\r\n\r\nThe servants rushed about frantically, in their endeavours to bring\r\nthe fowls and calves under shelter in time.\r\n\r\nThe two women took refuge in the house, closing the doors and windows,\r\nwhile they watched the consternation and disorder in the camp.\r\n\r\nFortunately there was only one horse in the smithy at the time, a\r\nbeautiful chestnut mare belonging to the Provost-Marshal, Major Poore,\r\nso Mrs. van Warmelo was told afterwards.\r\n\r\nThe soldiers seemed to lose their heads entirely. They ran away, not\r\ninto their tents, but right away into the \"koppies\" on the other side\r\nof the railway line.\r\n\r\nThe bee-keeper cut the halter with which the unfortunate horse was\r\ntethered to a post, then he too took refuge.\r\n\r\nWhat followed was pitiful to behold and will never be forgotten by the\r\nwomen, helplessly, and as if fascinated by the scene, watching from\r\ntheir windows.\r\n\r\nThe infuriated bees, deprived of all other living things on which to\r\nwreak their vengeance, turned, in their thousands, on the hapless\r\nmare, which stood unmoved, as horses do, when lashed by hail or\r\npanic-stricken under flames.\r\n\r\nShe made no attempt to save herself, but with bent head and ears laid\r\nflat she stood still under the furious attack of countless bees.\r\n\r\nOne or two of the men, wrapped up to the eyes in the coats and\r\nwaistcoats of their comrades, cautiously approached the mare at their\r\nown great peril, and tried with all their strength to move her from\r\nthe scene.\r\n\r\nIn vain. As if rooted to the spot she stood, with her four feet\r\nplanted firmly on the ground, and they desisted in despair, once more\r\nfleeing to the hills.\r\n\r\nAll day they sat upon the hillside, homeless, many of them hatless,\r\nuntil towards afternoon, when, the fury of the bees abating, they\r\nventured a return to their tents.\r\n\r\nThe next day, when the dead mare had been removed for burial, a letter\r\nwas brought to Mrs. van Warmelo from the Provost-Marshal, commanding\r\nthe immediate removal of the beehives to some safer spot in the lower\r\nportion of Harmony.\r\n\r\nThis was done by degrees, little by little every night, in order to\r\naccustom the bees to the change gradually, and there was never any\r\nrepetition of the attack.\r\n\r\nHansie, writing to her brother in his prison-fort at Ahmednagar, that\r\nhis bees had put a valuable English horse out of action for ever,\r\nreceived in reply a postcard, with the single comment, \"My brave\r\nbees!\"\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nCHAPTER XXXIII\r\n\r\nTHE FIRST SPIES AT HARMONY\r\n\r\n\r\nAs we have said, the Committee of women had decided on Harmony as the\r\nonly safe spot for harbouring Captain Naudé on his next visit. It was\r\nstill hemmed in by troops on every side, and, as the weeks went by,\r\nand the van Warmelos became _more_ convinced that their name had not\r\nbeen betrayed with those of the Secret Committee, they settled down\r\nwith a sense of peaceful security and prepared themselves once more\r\nfor the reception of their friends.\r\n\r\nTheir wonderful \"escape\" was a topic of daily conversation, and they\r\ncongratulated themselves over and over again with not even having been\r\napproached by the military and put on their best behaviour.\r\n\r\nNo promises had been given by them, and they felt free as the birds of\r\nthe air to continue their work of outwitting the enemy, whenever\r\noccasion presented itself. But occasions were rare now.\r\n\r\nAs far as was known, there was no longer a spot in the fencework\r\naround Pretoria through which a spy could enter unobserved, and no\r\nword or sign had been received from the brave Captain for more than\r\nthree months. By this they knew that he had been informed of the\r\ncalamities which had befallen his friends in town.\r\n\r\nStill they doubted not that he would at least make an attempt to come\r\nin again. His friends remembered his once having said that his keen\r\nenjoyment of the perils he underwent was only enhanced by the\r\nobstacles which lay in his way, and when the English thought they had\r\nmade it quite impossible for any man to cross their lines, it would be\r\nhis greatest pleasure to prove how much mistaken they were.\r\n\r\nThere was no vain boasting in the quiet and natural way in which he\r\nmade these remarks, and they were remembered with a strong conviction\r\nthat he would keep his word. But still it was realised that his\r\ngreatest difficulty would not be so much his entrance into the town as\r\nhis perplexity when once he found himself there.\r\n\r\nHe would not know where to go. His friends had been banished, their\r\nhouses were occupied by the enemy, and as yet he did not know of the\r\nexistence of the new Committee. Sending out word to him was\r\nimpossible.\r\n\r\nNo man could risk the unknown dangers of leaving the town under the\r\npresent conditions to warn him; no one would know where to find the\r\nSecret Service Corps in the field. His friends decided to possess\r\ntheir souls in patience, trusting in the capabilities of the wily\r\nCaptain and knowing full well that if any one could find a way out, or\r\nin, he would.\r\n\r\nHe did not disappoint them, and they might have known that on this\r\noccasion everything he did would be exactly opposed to his former\r\nmethods.\r\n\r\nIt was to be a time of surprises for every one.\r\n\r\nHansie and her mother were just talking about the Captain and\r\nregretting the appearance of the young moon--which meant under\r\nordinary circumstances, _no_ spies in town--and wondering how much\r\nlonger they would be able to endure their suspense--wondering, too,\r\nhow they would communicate with the Commander in future and longing\r\nfor reliable news from the field--when the unexpected happened.\r\n\r\nAt break of day December 17th three travellers entered the town,\r\ntravel-stained, torn, and weary. They walked boldly through the\r\nstreets of Pretoria in the dim light of a summer's dawn, and what\r\ntheir destination was we shall see presently.\r\n\r\nThe van Warmelos were having supper that night at 8 o'clock when the\r\ndoor opened unceremoniously and Flippie's shock head was thrust in.\r\n\r\n\"There are two ladies looking for Harmony,\" he said. \"They are at the\r\nfront gate and want to see you.\"\r\n\r\nHansie immediately went out and met two girls, strangers to her,\r\ncoming up the garden-path.\r\n\r\n\"Good evening,\" she said. \"Do you wish to see my mother?\"\r\n\r\n\"Who are you?\" was the somewhat unexpected but perfectly natural\r\nquestion.\r\n\r\n\"I am Miss van Warmelo. Do you want any one here?\"\r\n\r\n\"Yes,\" one of them replied in a hurried and mysterious way. \"There are\r\ntwo men at your garden gate and they want to see Mrs. van Warmelo.\"\r\n\r\n\"Won't you ask them to come up to the house?\" Hansie asked. \"You can't\r\nvery well expect my mother to----\"\r\n\r\n\"Oh yes, she must,\" the other broke in hurriedly; \"it is all\r\nright--she knows them. They will tell her themselves what they want.\"\r\n\r\n\"Wait here a moment. I will call my mother.\"\r\n\r\nHansie had some trouble in persuading her mother to leave the house.\r\n\r\n\"I am not going down to the gate to see any men,\" she said. \"Let them\r\ncome up to me.\"\r\n\r\n\"They won't, mother. It is no use. There is something behind this.\r\nThey are either our own spies or the English are setting a trap for\r\nus. Be on your guard, but come out into the garden.\"\r\n\r\nSorely against her will Mrs. van Warmelo hurried out of the house,\r\nwhere she gave the girls a cool and haughty reception, saying:\r\n\r\n\"I don't understand this. Will you be good enough to ask your friends\r\nto come up to my house if they wish to speak to me?\" And with that she\r\nturned back to the house alone.\r\n\r\nGirl No. 1 said, \"I think I had better go and fetch them, they are\r\nwaiting near the wire fence,\" and walked rapidly down the path, while\r\nHansie followed slowly with girl No. 2, asking many questions, but\r\ngetting none but the most unsatisfactory replies.\r\n\r\nWhen they reached the gate, girl No. 1 had disappeared altogether and\r\nthere was no sign of the men. Hansie thought this very suspicious, and\r\nwas about to turn to her companion with an impatient remark, when she\r\nsuddenly said something about going to look for girl No. 1 and\r\ndisappeared too, leaving Hansie standing alone at the gate with her\r\ntroubled reflections.\r\n\r\nMen and girls had now disappeared for good it seemed, and, after what\r\nseemed an endless time of waiting, she decided to go back to the\r\nhouse, when she was suddenly joined by her mother, now thoroughly\r\nalarmed.\r\n\r\n\"It must be a trap, dear mother,\" she whispered. \"I can't make it out.\r\nAh, here is some one coming at last\"--but then her heart stood still,\r\nfor a tall English officer, with helmet on and armed to the teeth,\r\nadvanced, saluting the two ladies in the pale light of the young moon.\r\n\r\n\"Naudé,\" he whispered, stretching out his hands to them.\r\n\r\nCaptain Naudé in an English officer's uniform! Thank God, thank God!\r\n\r\nIn a moment all was happy confusion.\r\n\r\nThe Captain introduced his corporal, Venter, warmly took leave of\r\ngirls No. 1 and 2, thanking them gratefully for services rendered by\r\nthem that night, and then the four people sauntered up to the house,\r\ntalking loudly as they passed the sergeant-major's tin \"villa\" on the\r\nother side of the fence.\r\n\r\nThe glimpse Hansie caught of the good man, calmly sitting inside,\r\nsmoking his pipe and reading, little dreaming that his arch enemies\r\nwere within a stone's throw of his peaceful abode, added a delightful\r\nthrill to the sensations experienced by her that night.\r\n\r\nVery little was said when once they got inside. The hostesses took in\r\nthe condition of the starved and exhausted heroes at a glance and\r\nbusied themselves with preparations for a feast, while the men\r\nstretched themselves on the sofas in the dining-room. When Mrs. van\r\nWarmelo had lit the fire in the kitchen and set the kettle on to\r\nboil, Hansie opened the windows of the drawing-room as wide as\r\npossible, lit the lamps and candles, and opening the piano, played\r\nsome \"loud music\" for the edification of the sergeant-major.\r\n\r\n\"I've made him understand that we have visitors,\" she said, laughing,\r\nwhen she got back to the dining-room. \"He will quite understand the\r\nall-pervading smell of coffee, even if he can't account for the ham\r\nand eggs at this time of night.\"\r\n\r\nHome-made bread, butter, and preserves, rusks, cold plum-pudding, and\r\nfruit completed the repast--and how the men tucked in! They were so\r\nbruised and worn-out that they could hardly sit up straight to eat,\r\nand when they had each \"forced a square meal into a round stomach\"\r\nthey once more stretched themselves out on the sofas, supremely\r\ncontent with their pipes.\r\n\r\nMother and daughter sat beside them talking until nearly midnight.\r\n\r\n\"Tell me\" (Hansie began at the end)--\"tell me where you disappeared to\r\nfrom our gate. I can't quite forgive you the nasty fright you gave us.\r\nYou might have come straight up to the house.\"\r\n\r\n\"Well,\" Naudé answered, \"I did not know whether you were still in town\r\nand alone at home, and we could not risk finding you with visitors.\r\nWhile we were at the gate some of the Military Mounted Police passed\r\nand we thought it safer to go for a walk. Unfortunately we walked\r\nright into their camp, and before we knew where we were, we were\r\nfalling over their tent-ropes, and in our hurry to escape from them we\r\nfound ourselves before the house of the Military Governor, where the\r\nsentinels on guard saluted me most respectfully. I can't tell you how\r\nglad we were to find you waiting for us when we came back to the\r\ngate.\" The diary shrinks from the attempt to describe the thrilling\r\nadventures these men had to relate, their hairbreadth escapes, their\r\nhardships, privations, and fatigue.\r\n\r\nThey sat talking with them far into the night, their hostesses hung on\r\nevery word, their hearts full of admiration and respect for men so\r\nbrave, so strong and calm, facing death a thousand times without\r\nflinching, looking their troubles philosophically in the face,\r\ntrusting implicitly in their God.\r\n\r\nThe faith of Captain Naudé was sublime.\r\n\r\nBy degrees they got the story of their entering into the town from\r\nthem.\r\n\r\nIt seemed that at this time Pretoria was so well guarded that it was\r\nalmost impossible for the wiliest of spies to pass through the\r\nsentries unobserved, but, after much cautious inspection, one single\r\nunguarded spot had been found, the drift of the Aapies River, over\r\nwhich the S.E. railway bridge passed. This drift, which was about\r\ntwenty feet wide, was so completely fenced in with a network of barbed\r\nwire that it was evidently not considered necessary to place sentinels\r\nthere. By throwing over their parcels first and working away the\r\nground for more than an hour under the barbed wire, the men were able\r\nto crawl and wriggle their way through the barrier.\r\n\r\nThey made it a rule never to clip the wires around the town, because\r\nthis would betray the route used by them, but out in the veld no wire\r\nfences were spared.\r\n\r\nWhen they had removed the worst traces of dust and dirt from their\r\nclothes they walked boldly through the streets, Naudé in the uniform\r\nof an English officer and Venter and Brenckmann, as his orderlies,\r\ndressed in khaki.\r\n\r\nThey were anxious to get under cover before the full light of day\r\novertook them, but none of them knew where Harmony was, and they\r\nactually walked over the lower portion of Harmony's grounds, across\r\nthe main road and over the Sunnyside bridge, hiding themselves in the\r\nthick poplar bushes beside the river. Here three Kaffir police sprang\r\nup and saluted Naudé as he passed. But for his uniform, he and his men\r\nwould have been lost.\r\n\r\nAfter a short consultation it was decided that Brenckmann should risk\r\nwalking through the town in daylight to his home in Arcadia and send\r\nsome one in the evening to escort Naudé and Venter to Harmony.\r\n\r\nThe two men had a terrible day in the bush, lying as flat as possible\r\nin the choking heat, without food and nothing to drink but a little\r\nfilthy water in a hole near by.\r\n\r\nWhen night fell Brenckmann sent his sister, with one of Venter's, to\r\ntheir hiding-place, and then the search for Harmony began. It was the\r\nunsuspecting Flippie, lounging about the streets after his day's work\r\nwas done, who gave the required information and volunteered to show\r\nthem the way.\r\n\r\nBefore they retired for the night Naudé took Mrs. van Warmelo's hand,\r\nand, looking earnestly into her face, said:\r\n\r\n\"Do you know what it means to harbour me? There is a heavy price on my\r\nhead, and in the event of an attack I do not mean to be taken alive.\r\nThere will be a fight under your roof. I am well armed\"--he tapped his\r\nrevolvers significantly; \"it means confiscation of your property and\r\nimprisonment for you and your daughter. Are you prepared for this? If\r\nnot, say the word; it is not yet too late for us to seek refuge\r\nelsewhere.\"\r\n\r\n\"You are heartily welcome here,\" she replied, \"and if it comes to\r\nfighting----\"\r\n\r\n\"We have arms too,\" Hansie broke in, \"a revolver and a pocket-pistol.\r\nIt will not be the first time that Boer women have fought side by side\r\nwith their men----\" She stopped in some confusion, suddenly\r\nremembering General Maxwell and the permits he had given her.\r\n\r\n\"I fervently hope there will be no fighting,\" she continued. \"I am\r\nsure there will not be. There are too many troops lying around\r\nHarmony, we shall never be suspected of harbouring spies; but if we\r\nshould be surprised in the night, don't begin shooting at once. We\r\nhave a hiding-place for you.\"\r\n\r\nMrs. van Warmelo led the way to her bedroom, where the men were to\r\nsleep, and, removing a rug from the floor beside the bed, she lifted\r\ntwo boards and disclosed an opening large enough for the body of a man\r\nto pass through.\r\n\r\n\"Put all your belongings in here and creep in at the first alarm,\" she\r\nsaid. \"We will cover you up securely. Leave the matter in our hands.\"\r\n\r\n\"By the way,\" said the Captain suddenly, \"who is Flippie?\"\r\n\r\nShe gave him a brief outline of Flippie's history and how he came to\r\nbe at Harmony.\r\n\r\n\"Why do you ask?\"\r\n\r\n\"Well, I should like to cultivate Flippie's acquaintance. I must find\r\nout what he thinks of how _we_ come to be with you.\"\r\n\r\n\"Oh, Flippie is all right,\" she declared. \"You can trust him with\r\nanything. But perhaps it will be safer for you to remain in hiding\r\nwhile you are with us, not to be seen even by the servants.\"\r\n\r\n\"We can arrange all that to-morrow,\" Captain Naudé answered. \"I am\r\nsure you must be tired now, and perhaps you will not get much rest.\r\nThere are many things to do and to discuss to-morrow. I must see\r\nseveral people and give you the reports for the President.\"\r\n\r\n\"Will you let me be your secretary?\" Hansie asked. \"I am secretary to\r\nthe new Committee.\"\r\n\r\n\"I shall be very glad if you will,\" Captain Naudé replied.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nCHAPTER XXXIV\r\n\r\nTHE CAPTAIN'S VISIT\r\n\r\n\r\nNeedless to say, there was not much peace or rest for any one that\r\nnight.\r\n\r\nMrs. van Warmelo and Hansie kept guard all night in the dining-room.\r\nEvery time Carlo barked outside they sprang up in alarm, their hearts\r\nthrobbing, their breath held up in listening suspense, but nothing\r\nhappened; and when day broke and the glorious sunlight flooded the\r\ngarden, all their fears vanished, and they felt as if they had been\r\nharbouring spies all their lives.\r\n\r\nThey were up early, and as soon as their guests heard sounds of life\r\nabout the house they cautiously emerged from their rooms, looking\r\nabout them anxiously and inquiringly.\r\n\r\n\"Come in and have some coffee,\" Mrs. van Warmelo said warmly. \"Did you\r\nhave a good night? The servants are not in the house yet and you are\r\nsafe for the present, but we must make our plans immediately. Are you\r\ngoing to be seen about the house or not?\"\r\n\r\nCaptain Naudé then informed her that his orderly Venter wished to go\r\nhome to his people in Arcadia towards evening, if she could lend him\r\ncivilian clothing to wear, for once in the town the khaki was more of\r\na danger than a safeguard to him, and Captain Naudé was in the same\r\ndifficulty himself.\r\n\r\nIt would never do for him to be seen at Harmony in an English\r\nofficer's uniform--\"unless,\" he added inquiringly, \"you are in the\r\nhabit of entertaining the British military?\"\r\n\r\n\"No, indeed we are not!\" she exclaimed indignantly, and told him the\r\nstory of the officers who had tried to visit her.\r\n\r\n\"Only one dear old colonel comes now,\" Hansie said, \"but he has not\r\nbeen here for a long, long time. I would enjoy introducing you to\r\nhim.\"\r\n\r\n\"Not in these clothes,\" Naudé replied. \"An English colonel would know\r\nat once to whom they belonged. No; if I am to remain at Harmony as an\r\nordinary visitor, you will have to provide me with ordinary clothes.\"\r\n\r\nMrs. van Warmelo promised to do that during the course of the day, and\r\nin the meantime it was decided to keep the men in the unused spare\r\nbedroom, out of sight of the prying eyes of servants and possible\r\ncallers.\r\n\r\nThere their meals were served to them, the women washing up their\r\ndishes without a sound in the privacy of their own bedrooms, and at\r\nthe same time doing all in their power to look and act as usual,\r\nshowing themselves all over the house and garden, and busying\r\nthemselves with the usual household duties.\r\n\r\n\"What did those two khaki women want with you last night, Miss\r\nHansie?\" the irrepressible Flippie asked as soon as he saw her that\r\nmorning.\r\n\r\n\"Khaki women! What _do_ you mean, Flippie?\"\r\n\r\n\"They _were_ khaki women,\" he said aggressively. \"I saw two English\r\nofficers with revolvers with them, and they were pretending they\r\ndidn't belong to them. What did they want with Harmony?\"\r\n\r\n\"I don't know them, Flippie. I never set eyes on them before. I am\r\nsure they were up to no good.\"\r\n\r\n\"But what did they say they wanted with Harmony?\" he persisted.\r\n\r\n\"They told me they were looking for something else,\" Hansie answered\r\nlamely. \"Have you fed the fowls, Flippie?\"\r\n\r\n\"No, but I wonder--\"\r\n\r\n\"Then go and do so at once,\" Hansie interrupted severely. \"It is long\r\npast 6 o'clock.\"\r\n\r\nHe went unwillingly.\r\n\r\nOn comparing notes, she found that he had carried on the same\r\nconversation with her mother. There was no doubt that his suspicions\r\nhad been thoroughly roused, and for the next few days they had their\r\nhands full, trying to keep his curiosity in check. Perhaps if they had\r\ntaken Flippie into their confidence and trusted him with their secret,\r\nit would have saved them all the anxiety and unrest they had to pass\r\nthrough afterwards, but they acted for the best, and perhaps they\r\nwould have been betrayed in any case.\r\n\r\nWhat use to speculate now on what might have been?\r\n\r\nHansie's first duty that day was to go to town and inform the members\r\nof the Secret Committee of Naudé's arrival in Pretoria, and to procure\r\nclothing for Venter.\r\n\r\nA friend of hers, whom she judged to be about the same size as Venter,\r\ngave her a splendid suit of clothes, nearly new, without asking many\r\nquestions, and placed his further services at her disposal.\r\n\r\nShe then went to Venter's relatives in Arcadia and told them on no\r\naccount to visit him at Harmony, as he was coming home to them that\r\nevening. Too many people knew about the spies at Harmony, and there\r\nwas good reason for beginning to feel uncomfortable.\r\n\r\nThe women of the Committee promised to call at Harmony that afternoon.\r\n\r\nWhen Hansie arrived home she sewed on Venter's buttons, supplied him\r\nwith studs and ties, a clean pocket-handkerchief, and a new hat.\r\n\r\nI believe he had on clothing belonging to six different people when he\r\nsallied forth soon after sundown, and Mrs. van Warmelo was glad to see\r\nthe last of him, for her cares and responsibilities were multiplying,\r\nand his presence in the house was one more.\r\n\r\nThe Captain was still in his uniform, but he was provided with clean\r\nunderclothing from the \"boys'\" wardrobes, and from that moment the\r\nunmistakable smell of _commando_ no longer pervaded that home!\r\n\r\nThe rest of the morning was spent in making copies of the dispatches\r\nto the President and drawing up a list of the necessaries to be\r\nprovided by the Committee for the men to take out with them, and in\r\nthe afternoon Harmony was besieged with a stream of callers.\r\n\r\nPoor Hansie thought they would never end, and while she was\r\nentertaining them in the drawing-room her mother was keeping the\r\nothers quiet in the dining-room--Mrs. Honey, Mrs. Armstrong, Mrs.\r\nMalan, and the two spies.\r\n\r\nThat night their sleep was deep and refreshing, for they were worn\r\nout in mind and body. There was only one man in the house, and they\r\nwere getting used to his presence, and the thought of the secret\r\nhiding-place gave a sense of security.\r\n\r\nThey were up early again next morning, and, all the \"business\"\r\ntransactions having been done the day before, they devoted themselves\r\nto the entertainment of their guest.\r\n\r\nA more delightful day they never spent, and the memory of it clings to\r\nthem still.\r\n\r\nCaptain Naudé was beginning to feel the restrictions of city\r\nhospitality, and, longing to get out into the big garden, where the\r\nearly figs and apricots held their tempting sway, he asked Mrs. van\r\nWarmelo once more to provide him with a suit of civilian clothing.\r\n\r\nHe was taller and slighter of build than the \"boys,\" but she gave him\r\na suit belonging to the youngest son, Fritz, and from that moment he\r\nwalked freely about the house and garden.\r\n\r\nHis helmet and uniform lay buried in the hiding-place under the floor,\r\nbut his revolvers he kept on under his coat, in the leathern belt\r\nstrapped around his waist. This fact was significant of the deadly\r\nperil in which they all were.\r\n\r\nWhile the women were hastily getting through their household duties in\r\norder to have a long talk with him, he roamed about the garden and\r\nfinally stretched himself out on the benches under the six\r\nweeping-willows at the foot of the orange avenue.\r\n\r\n\"Who dat lying under our trees, Miss Hansie?\" \"Gentleman Jim\"\r\ninquired, from his perch in the mulberry tree behind the house.\r\n\r\n\"A friend of ours, Jim. He has been very ill in the hospital and has\r\nasked us to let him spend the day in our garden.\"\r\n\r\n\"Oh yes, I can see him's cloes much too big for him.\"\r\n\r\n\"Hand me that basket, Jim, if it is full,\" Hansie commanded. \"Here is\r\nanother; and when you have finished, make a big fire in the kitchen,\r\nbecause we must have a nice dinner to-day for the baas.\"\r\n\r\n\"All right, little missie,\" was the respectful answer.\r\n\r\n\"Gentleman Jim\" was settled, and the same performance was gone through\r\ncasually with Flippie and Paulus; but the three Italian gardeners and\r\nthe eight or ten Kaffirs employed by them were left to think what they\r\npleased, and they went about their work without taking the slightest\r\nnotice of Captain Naudé.\r\n\r\n\"The people in your hospital have nice ruddy complexions,\" Mrs. van\r\nWarmelo said laughingly, when Hansie told her what the Captain was\r\npassing for; but the ruse answered, and, for the time at least, all\r\nsuspicions were lulled to rest.\r\n\r\nWhen they joined the Captain in the garden later on they invited him\r\nto help them to gather strawberries for the people who were coming to\r\nsee him again that afternoon. They were just engaged in the pleasant\r\ntask, chatting gaily and feeling, oh, so safe, when Mrs. van Warmelo\r\nstarted violently.\r\n\r\nThe sergeant-major was standing on the other side of the fence,\r\nwatching them intently.\r\n\r\nCaptain Naudé bent low over the strawberry plants and whispered:\r\n\"Don't move. Go on picking quietly. He will soon go away.\"\r\n\r\nHe did, apparently satisfied with the appearance of the stranger, but\r\nthe ladies had been seized with a sudden nervousness and implored the\r\nCaptain to come into the house.\r\n\r\nMrs. van Warmelo pointed out to him a group of dense loquat trees,\r\nwith dark-green, glossy foliage, a suitable place of refuge should he\r\nbe compelled to flee from the house at night.\r\n\r\nHe was not a man of many words, but, once started, there was no\r\ndifficulty in getting all the information they wanted out of him, and\r\nhe answered their leading questions in a simple, straightforward way,\r\nhis every word bearing the unmistakable stamp of truth.\r\n\r\nI have avoided going into the details of the actual war as much as\r\npossible.\r\n\r\nIt has not been my intention to weary my reader with dry facts\r\nconcerning battlefields, nor to give the war reports and war rumours,\r\nso often unreliable, with which Hansie's diary is filled, but the\r\nevents connected with Captain Naudé's first visit to Harmony I wish to\r\ngive in the smallest detail. Great historical truths stand out in bold\r\nrelief against a background of minute details and the realistic\r\ndescription of the common life. This background Hansie's diary affords\r\nbetter than anything written from memory after many years could have\r\ndone.\r\n\r\nWhile the Captain slept Hansie made her notes, and when he woke she\r\nwas with him again for further news.\r\n\r\nHer thirst for information was insatiable.\r\n\r\n\"I have been longing to ask you, Captain, where you got your English\r\nuniform,\" Hansie said as they sat down in the dining-room with the\r\ngreat bowls of scarlet strawberries before them. \"Tell us everything\r\nwhile we remove these stems.\"\r\n\r\n\"You have heard of the terrible battle we had at Bakenlaagte--when\r\nColonel Benson fell, mortally wounded? I was there.\"\r\n\r\n\"Were you?\" they exclaimed in breathless surprise.\r\n\r\n\"Yes, and the uniform lying buried under your floor I myself took from\r\nthe dead body of Colonel Thorold after the battle.\"\r\n\r\nBy degrees a full description was given of that great British reverse\r\non the High Veld and what took place after.\r\n\r\nWhen the battle was over and Colonel Benson lay mortally wounded,\r\nsurrounded by doctors and officers in high authority, Naudé advanced,\r\nand asked to be allowed to take his papers. The men protested, but\r\nNaudé ordered them all aside and gently removed every paper from his\r\npockets. He had no important documents with him and the private papers\r\nwere of course returned to the men in charge of the dying officer.\r\n\r\nHe expired soon afterwards and was mourned by the Boers as well as the\r\nEnglish, for he was admired and respected by all for his courage and\r\ndaring, and his fame as an honourable foe had spread throughout the\r\nBoer lines.\r\n\r\nMany of them were heard to say that they had only meant to catch him\r\nand that they bitterly regretted his death.\r\n\r\nIt was one of the worst battles, under General Botha, Naudé had ever\r\nbeen in. About twelve Boers were killed instantly, and three wounded\r\nto death.\r\n\r\nWith the storming of the cannon, Boers and English were so close\r\ntogether that the one could hear what the other said, and Naudé's\r\ncorporal, Venter, saw a poor soldier fall back mortally wounded,\r\ngasping out with his dying breath, \"Oh, dear mother!\"\r\n\r\nGod of pity! who will tell that bereaved parent that her son's last\r\nthoughts and words were for her alone?\r\n\r\nIt was terrible to hear the wounded and dying praying and calling to\r\ntheir God for help. Nationality, language, enmity, and bitter hatred\r\nwere forgotten as side by side those mortal foes prepared to meet\r\ntheir God--_one God!_\r\n\r\nImploring one another for help, praying for one drop of water to\r\nalleviate their dying agonies--in vain!\r\n\r\nTwo cannon were taken by the Boers, one of which they destroyed at\r\nonce, keeping the other for their future use.\r\n\r\nWhen all was over General Botha spoke a few touching words to his men,\r\nthanking them for their bravery, and congratulating them on their\r\nsuccess.\r\n\r\nUnpleasant though it may be to think of, it is my duty to relate that,\r\nbefore burial, the soldiers were stripped of their clothes, and every\r\nBoer permitted to take what he required, but the bodies were treated\r\nwith respect.\r\n\r\nNaudé, for purposes of his own, chose the uniform of the dead Colonel\r\nThorold, which had six bullet holes through it and was covered with\r\nblood-stains.\r\n\r\nRevolvers, leggings, whistle, helmet, all was complete, even to the\r\nstars and crown on the Colonel's shoulders.\r\n\r\nNaudé felt himself rich indeed in the possession of articles which he\r\nknew would be invaluable to him on his next entry into Pretoria.\r\n\r\nOne of his men took Colonel Benson's uniform, but handed the crown to\r\nhim (Naudé) at his request, and then the bodies were covered with\r\nblankets for a hurried burial.\r\n\r\nOh, cruel war when men slay one another!\r\n\r\n\"Oh, blest Red Cross, like an angel in the trail of the men who slay!\"\r\n\r\nThere were about ten dead English _officers_ on the field and nineteen\r\nwounded, of whom three or four died afterwards.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\n\"When did you see General Botha last?\" Mrs. van Warmelo inquired.\r\n\r\n\"About three weeks ago, and then he was looking well and brown. He\r\ntold me of a narrow escape he had had. He was completely surrounded\r\nand barely got off with his life. His hat was left behind, also his\r\nBible and hymn-books. Lord Kitchener, courteously, and with a touch of\r\nhumour, returned the books to him with a boy's hat which had been\r\nfound on the field, thinking evidently that it belonged to the\r\nGeneral's little son, who was known to go everywhere with him; but\r\nGeneral Botha sent the hat back to Lord Kitchener with a message to\r\nthe effect that it was not his son's, but had belonged to his\r\n'achter-ryder,' and thanking him for the books.\"[5]\r\n\r\n\"Tell us some of your own escapes,\" Hansie begged, \"I am sure you have\r\nhad many.\"\r\n\r\n\"So many that I have forgotten them nearly all,\" he answered, \"but one\r\nI shall never forget.\"\r\n\r\nHe then related how he and twenty of his men had once been pursued for\r\nfour hours by about one thousand English. The bullets fell like hail\r\nabout them, and he was keeping the saddle he rode on, as a curiosity,\r\nbecause of the many bullet holes in it. Once a bullet passed between\r\nhis coat and shirt along his stomach, the shock taking his breath\r\naway. He was sure he had been mortally wounded, but could not stop to\r\nfind out, and the very recollection of it still caused him to\r\nexperience the sensation of coming into close contact with death.\r\n\r\nFOOTNOTES:\r\n\r\n[Footnote 5: General Botha tells me that the hat which was returned to\r\nhim by Lord Kitchener had first belonged to his little son, Louis, who\r\nhad written his name in full, in blue pencil, on the inside of the\r\ncrown, and had given it, when he had no more use for it, to his little\r\nnative orderly.]\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nCHAPTER XXXV\r\n\r\nMEMORIES BITTER-SWEET\r\n\r\n\r\nThe Captain's visit was not an unmixed joy. Some bitter revelations\r\nwere made, much pathos mixed with the humours of the situation and\r\ntragic experiences related by all--but on these I shall merely touch,\r\nas unavoidable and necessary for the completion of my story.\r\n\r\nAfter the treachery of their own people and the arming of the natives,\r\nnothing troubled the men so much as the fact that the fighting\r\nburghers were, in some parts of the country, suffering from sore gums\r\nand showing signs of scurvy, caused by an unchanging diet of meat and\r\nmealies. The spies wanted to communicate this to some good,\r\ntrustworthy doctor and to get medicine for them to take out to the\r\ncommandos, but Mrs. van Warmelo told them that no medicine in the\r\nworld could cure that. What they wanted was a change of diet--fresh\r\nmilk, vegetables, fruit, and an abundant supply of lime-juice, etc.\r\n\r\nSending out lime-juice would be as absurd as impossible, for it would\r\nbe as a drop in the ocean of want--and as it was, the men were\r\nhandicapped by the two bottles of good French brandy which they were\r\ntaking out for medicinal purposes. These could not be thrown across\r\nwith the other parcels, but would have to be carried on their persons\r\nas they wriggled through the barbed wires across the drift of the\r\nAapies River.\r\n\r\nIn some districts, where the destruction of farms had not yet been\r\ncompleted, the commando found a sufficient supply of fresh fruit and\r\nvegetables and were in no immediate danger of the dread disease, but\r\nin the neighbourhood of the towns there was nothing more to be done in\r\nthe way of devastation, and the only fresh food they got was what they\r\ntook from the enemy. As an instance of the thoroughness of the system\r\nof destruction, Naudé related how he and his corps of hungry men had\r\none day come upon a kraal containing the bodies of over 500 sheep in\r\nan advanced stage of decomposition, with their throats cut or their\r\nheads cleft in two by swords. Too far away from towns or camps to be\r\ndriven to some place where they could have been kept for the use of\r\nstarving and suffering humanity, they had been slaughtered and left to\r\nrot--anything to prevent their falling into the hands of the Boer\r\ncommandos.\r\n\r\nNo provisions of any sort were left within their reach and they lived\r\nentirely on what they took by main force from the enemy.\r\n\r\nA precarious existence indeed!\r\n\r\nNot to know from day to day where the next meal would come from and\r\nwith appetites sharpened by the healthy, roving, outdoor life they\r\nled, no wonder these men uttered imprecations on the heads of those\r\nresponsible for the systematic devastation of the country and\r\nwholesale destruction of food.\r\n\r\nThe privilege too of stripping their prisoners of their clothes had\r\nits disadvantages, for in many cases they swarmed with vermin and had\r\nto be boiled before they could be used, while a camp deserted by the\r\nEnglish had to be approached warily and with the utmost caution on\r\naccount of the vermin with which it frequently was infested.\r\n\r\nEnglish prisoners were set free (what could the Boers do with them\r\notherwise?), but the traitors caught with them red-handed were shot\r\nwithout mercy--and it was Naudé's duty, as Captain of the Secret\r\nService, to see that these executions were carried out. This was to\r\nhim the hardest task of all.\r\n\r\n\"His fallen brothers\" he called them, and voice and eye when he spoke\r\nof them betrayed compassionate horror and wrath unspeakable.\r\n\r\nArmed natives met the same fate, and in a few words he described to\r\nhis shuddering listeners how it was done, how he informed the doomed\r\nman of his fate, how the prisoner pleaded for mercy and offered to\r\njoin the Boer ranks, how he prayed in despair when he found no mercy,\r\nno relenting, how he covered his face or folded his arms, how the\r\nshots rang out and he fell down dead.\r\n\r\nScenes such as these were witnessed without number, but the execution\r\nof a \"fallen brother,\" when the details were arranged, took place some\r\ndistance apart, beyond the vision of the burghers who had captured\r\nhim.\r\n\r\nBut it was when the subject of the Concentration Camps was broached\r\nthat the darkest gloom settled over Harmony.\r\n\r\nCaptain Naudé had a young wife and two children in one of the Camps in\r\nNatal, and Mrs. Malan had procured, as a surprise for him, snapshots\r\nof his dear ones taken in the Camp. When they were placed in his\r\nhands he gazed on them for a long time in silence, finally muttering\r\nunder his breath, \"For this the English must die!\" and from that\r\nmoment he was moody and silent.\r\n\r\nHis thirst for information on the condition of the Irene Camp, as\r\nHansie had found it, was insatiable, and hours were spent in\r\ndiscussing the subject and its probable effect on the duration of the\r\nwar.\r\n\r\n\"What do the men think of the Concentration Camps?\" Hansie asked.\r\n\"Will they give in for the sake of the women and children?\"\r\n\r\n\"No,\" was the emphatic answer--\"never. We all feel that our first duty\r\nis to fight until our independence is assured. _We_ are not\r\nresponsible for the fate of our women and children, and they let no\r\nopportunity pass of urging us to be brave and steadfast in the\r\nfulfilment of our duty to our country. Our spies come from the Camps\r\ncontinually with messages of encouragement and hope; but that the\r\nmortality among them is more bitter to bear than anything else, you\r\ncan understand....\"\r\n\r\nThere was a long pause, and then, the Captain continued gloomily:\r\n\r\n\"I did not recognise my wife on that photo--she has become an old, old\r\nwoman.... Sometimes on commando we actually enjoy ourselves. You must\r\nnot think that it is all hardship and trouble! I gave a concert, quite\r\na good one, on the President's birthday, and occasionally, when we\r\ncome to a farm where there are still some girls left, we take them out\r\nriding and driving.\"\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nCHAPTER XXXVI\r\n\r\nA SILENT DEPARTURE. \"FARE THEE WELL\"\r\n\r\n\r\nAs the afternoon wore on, an extreme nervousness came over all at\r\nHarmony, a feeling of tense anxiety which no words can describe, and\r\nwas betrayed in a restless flitting through the house, arranging\r\nsomething here, peering through the blinds at the camp of the Military\r\nMounted Police.\r\n\r\nUnconsciously voices were lowered and final instructions given in\r\nhushed tones.\r\n\r\nOnly a few hours remained of the Captain's visit to Harmony and much\r\nhad still to be arranged.\r\n\r\nThe tension was broken by the arrival of Mrs. Malan, with large\r\nparcels containing the articles of clothing, etc., ordered by\r\nNaudé--hats, boots, riding-suits, soap, matches, salt, and a number of\r\nthe small necessities of life. This gave the women something to do,\r\nfor everything had to be sorted and made up into smaller parcels as\r\ncompactly as possible, while Naudé donned a surprising quantity of\r\nclothing and disposed of various articles about his person.\r\n\r\nIn the excitement of the moment Captain Naudé, while he was dressing,\r\nmust have forgotten to take off a waistcoat lent to him by Mrs. van\r\nWarmelo and clearly marked D.S. van Warmelo.\r\n\r\nThis caused her a great deal of anxiety for some days after the\r\ndeparture of the spies.\r\n\r\nHad Naudé reached the commandos in safety or had he fallen into the\r\nhands of the enemy with the tell-tale waistcoat on?\r\n\r\nThey wondered and speculated, but as the days went by and no startling\r\nreports convulsed the town, they once again settled down--not to the\r\nsame old sense of security as far as they were personally concerned,\r\nbut to the comforting conviction that all was well with their friends.\r\n\r\nTheir own fate--but this is coming presently.\r\n\r\nMrs. Malan did not stay long, and there were fortunately no unexpected\r\nvisitors that afternoon--except, strange to say, the English colonel\r\nwho had all but ceased his visits and was on this occasion entertained\r\nby Hansie and her mother in turn.\r\n\r\nHis presence gave a great sense of security!\r\n\r\nHansie walked with Mrs. Malan to the gate, where her carriage was\r\nwaiting for her, and the sergeant-major, slowly sauntering past and\r\nsaluting to the girl as she gave the coachman her directions, little\r\nknew that the words spoken in Dutch were:\r\n\r\n\"You must be here at 7 to-night, and bring your residential pass\r\nwithout fail.\"\r\n\r\nVan der Westhuizen, with the bandaged arm, was going to help to carry\r\ntheir parcels through the bush and escort the three men through the\r\nmost dangerous parts of the town.\r\n\r\nWhen all the preparations were complete there was an hour or two to\r\nspare before the other men, under cover of darkness, should join Naudé\r\nnear the six willow trees at the foot of the orchard. That time was\r\nspent in making plans for the future.\r\n\r\n\"Promise me that you will never take in strange men,\" Naudé said\r\nearnestly. \"Do not even harbour any one who professes to come from me\r\nunless he gives a watchword. What shall our watchword be?\"\r\n\r\nThey thought for a few moments, and then Mrs. van Warmelo said:\r\n\r\n\"'Appelkoos' [apricots], because you came to us in the apricot\r\nseason!\"\r\n\r\n\"So be it.\" This was agreed upon.\r\n\r\n\"And if anything should happen to us before you come again?\" Hansie\r\ninquired. \"By what sign will you know that we have been taken and that\r\nHarmony is a pitfall instead of a refuge?\"\r\n\r\nAgain they pondered. This was indeed a serious problem, for in the\r\nevent of an arrest they would not be allowed to see or communicate\r\nwith any of their friends, and there would be no possible chance of\r\nsending out a warning.\r\n\r\nAfter a great deal of discussion it was decided that they should use\r\none of the posts of the enclosure dividing the upper part of Harmony,\r\nwhere the orchard was, from the lower, on which the vegetable gardens\r\nof the Italians were.\r\n\r\nOn one of the posts they would, if they had time to do so, fasten a\r\nsmall piece of plank, and this would serve as a warning to the men not\r\nto approach the house.\r\n\r\nIn case the enemy was not considerate enough to give them time to put\r\nup signs and signals, it was agreed to have this done at dead of night\r\nby one of the few remaining men in town, van der Westhuizen for\r\ninstance, at the first news of their arrest.\r\n\r\nThis arrangement eased their minds of some anxiety, and the rest of\r\nthe time was spent in quietly chatting about other matters.\r\n\r\n\"I suppose you cannot let my wife know that I have been here and am\r\nwell?\" Naudé asked.\r\n\r\n\"I am afraid not,\" Mrs. van Warmelo answered thoughtfully.\r\n\r\n\"We know no one in the Camp in which she is, and her correspondence\r\nwill no doubt be closely watched, but we could write an ordinary,\r\ncheerful letter, urging her to be hopeful and strong.\"\r\n\r\n\"Thank you very much,\" he answered gratefully, \"but do not use your\r\nown names on any account. Get other people to write, people less\r\nimplicated than yourselves.\"\r\n\r\nTowards 7 o'clock Hansie walked slowly down to the willows, the\r\nfaithful Carlo by her side, wistfully looking into her face. Did he\r\nfeel the suppressed agitation, the unrest in the air?\r\n\r\nI do believe Carlo knew and felt every changing emotion in his young\r\nmistress, and sympathised or rejoiced accordingly.\r\n\r\nThere was no one in the garden.\r\n\r\nHansie waited ten minutes, twenty, half an hour, then she went back to\r\nthe house.\r\n\r\nThere the form of the tall young man in his English officer's uniform,\r\nfrom which the traces of blood had been removed as well as possible,\r\nwas to be seen walking to and fro in restless nervousness.\r\n\r\n\"Have the others not come yet?\" he exclaimed impatiently. \"Where can\r\nthey be so late?\"\r\n\r\n\"I think it is too light still for them to be abroad,\" Hansie\r\nanswered; \"you should have made the appointment for 8 o'clock.\"\r\n\r\n\"But then the moon will be up,\" he objected. \"I hope they will be here\r\nsoon.\"\r\n\r\nHansie once more walked to the six willows, and the next half-hour was\r\nspent in a restless pacing up and down between the orange trees of the\r\navenue.\r\n\r\n\"Will they never come? Have they fallen into some unforeseen pitfall?\r\n\r\n\"At this, the most critical moment of our whole adventure, when all\r\narrangements seem to have come to a smooth and successful termination,\r\nmust our plans be frustrated, and a bloody encounter be the climax?\"\r\n\r\nHansie walked boldly towards the Military Camp, whistling to Carlo and\r\nadmonishing him thus audibly:\r\n\r\n\"Why can't you leave the kittens alone, Carlo?\" Then more softly: \"A\r\npeaceful serenity pervades the camp. Evidently nothing brewing here!\"\r\n\r\nWith a lighter heart she went back to the house, but one glance at the\r\nface of the Captain was enough, and once more she sped down the\r\ngarden-path to the ill-fated trysting-place.\r\n\r\nAs she neared the spot she heard no sound of life and her heart once\r\nmore sank, but only for a moment. Suddenly she started violently.\r\n\"What is this?\"\r\n\r\nThe place seemed in a moment alive with silent figures. From the\r\ndepths of the overhanging willow branches they emerged, one by one,\r\nand approached the tense form of the girl as she stood immovable, with\r\nstraining eyes trying to distinguish the moving, silent figures in the\r\ndarkness.\r\n\r\nThe white dress of a woman fluttering among the leaves reassured her.\r\n\r\n\"What is this?\" she whispered. \"Who are you? Why are you here?\"\r\n\r\nOne of the men came forward.\r\n\r\n\"Venter and Brenckmann,\" he said softly, \"come for the Captain.\"\r\n\r\n\"Yes, yes,\" Hansie said hurriedly. \"I know. We have waited for you\r\nmore than an hour. But these people? Who are they?\"\r\n\r\n\"Our friends and relatives come to see us off,\" came the unexpected\r\nreply.\r\n\r\nHansie was silent, trying to hide her indignation, her rising\r\nresentment, as another and yet another form cautiously emerged from\r\nbehind the foliage.\r\n\r\n\"Do you know,\" she said at last, \"that you are not only exposing us to\r\ngreat danger by coming here at a time like this, but that you are\r\nmaking it a thousand times more difficult for the Captain to depart\r\nunobserved? How could you be so indiscreet?\"\r\n\r\n\"These people are all trustworthy,\" one of the men volunteered.\r\n\r\n\"I have no doubt of it.\" Hansie extended her hands cordially to them.\r\n\"But you must all go now as quietly as you came. Say good-bye and go,\r\nplease, before I go to call the Captain.\"\r\n\r\nShe turned away with a lump in her throat, for no sounds broke the\r\nstillness of the night save those of stifled sobs and murmured\r\ncaresses.\r\n\r\n\"Fare thee well. God be with you!\"\r\n\r\nThere was Brenckmann with his three sisters, there was Venter with one\r\nsister and a sweetheart, and there was the sweetheart of one of\r\nBrenckmann's sisters, to say nothing of the other relatives and\r\nfriends whom I have been unable to place.\r\n\r\nSome distance from the scene, and unobserved by all save one, was the\r\nfigure of the ever-cautious and discreet van der Westhuizen, guarding\r\nthe parcels which had previously been conveyed there, lurking among\r\nthe trees.\r\n\r\nSwiftly and silently Hansie sped up to the house to meet the Captain,\r\njust as he, unable to bear the suspense any longer, had made up his\r\nmind to set out on his perilous expedition alone and was cautiously\r\nemerging from the bath-room door, concealing himself under the\r\nvineyard as he went.\r\n\r\n\"They are there, Captain,\" she said in a quick and lowered voice,\r\n\"waiting for you under the willows. Lower down near the bush van der\r\nWesthuizen is also waiting. He will distribute the parcels when you\r\ncome. I think everything is in order and the coast clear. The military\r\ncamp is quiet, the sergeant-major is in his 'tin villa.' Good-bye,\r\nCaptain. God bless you.\"\r\n\r\nThe man removed his helmet and stood before her in the pale light of\r\nthe rising moon. His face was very white.\r\n\r\n\"I shall never be able to thank you. God keep you. Good-bye,\r\ngood-bye.\" He clasped her hand and was gone, as silent as the shadows\r\ninto which he disappeared.\r\n\r\nWhen Hansie rejoined her mother a few minutes later no word was said\r\non either side. The extreme tension was over, the reaction had set in,\r\nand they could not trust themselves to speak, but set to work at once,\r\nfirmly and decently removing every trace in the house of confusion and\r\ndisorder.\r\n\r\nIn the room vacated by Captain Naudé they found the snapshots of his\r\nwife and children taken in the Concentration Camp.\r\n\r\nMrs. van Warmelo held them up to her daughter's view with a\r\nsignificant look.\r\n\r\n\"I am not surprised that he would not take them with him,\" she said.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nCHAPTER XXXVII\r\n\r\nBETRAYED\r\n\r\n\r\nHansie was one of those unfortunate women who cannot cry, but I\r\nbelieve she cried that night when the awful strain was over, the house\r\nquiet and deserted, and the feeling of \"nothing to do but wait\"\r\ncreeping over her.\r\n\r\nShe and her mother lay for hours listening for sounds of commotion in\r\nthe suburb, following in spirit the brave men on their route to the\r\nfree veld, so perilous and insecure, watching and praying for their\r\nsafety.\r\n\r\nAt last Hansie fell into a heavy, unrefreshing sleep, from which she\r\nwas roused in the early dawn by her mother's voice, hurried and\r\nextremely agitated.\r\n\r\n\"Hansie, Hansie, come here quick!\"\r\n\r\n\"Where, mother? Where are you?\"\r\n\r\n\"In the dining-room! Come at once, come and look!\"\r\n\r\nHansie sprang out of bed, alarmed and now thoroughly roused, and ran\r\ninto the dining-room, where she found her mother concealing herself\r\nbehind the lace curtains and cautiously looking out of the window to\r\nthe Military Camp.\r\n\r\nShe half turned as her daughter approached and said in a whisper:\r\n\"Don't show yourself. Look, Hansie, we have been betrayed. Our house\r\nis suspected. See how it is being watched.\"\r\n\r\nHansie looked and looked again. There was no doubt of it.\r\n\r\nThe sergeant was in excited conversation with a man on horseback, well\r\nknown to Hansie by sight as a detective in plain clothes. Here and\r\nthere the soldiers were grouped around other private detectives, on\r\nhorseback and on foot, talking and gesticulating and pointing to the\r\nhouse in wild excitement. What struck Hansie as almost ludicrous, even\r\nat that moment, was the _unbounded astonishment_ betrayed by them.\r\n\r\nTheir looks and gestures spoke as plainly as the plainest words: \"Can\r\nit be possible? Has that been going on under our noses? And pray, how\r\nlong?\"\r\n\r\n\"There is no doubt about it. We and our house have been betrayed. But\r\ncheer up, mother; forewarned is forearmed. Oh, silly fools, to give\r\naway their game like that!\"\r\n\r\n\"They have not seen us yet, Hansie. They think we are asleep.\"\r\n\r\n\"Even so, the servants are about. Oh, mother!\"\r\n\r\n\"Go and get dressed, Hansie, and let us behave exactly the same as\r\nusual. All we can do now is to see that we do not betray that we\r\n_know_ we have been betrayed. How do you think this has come about?\"\r\n\r\n\"The crowd under the willows last night?\"\r\n\r\n\"Gentleman Jim?\"\r\n\r\n\"Flippie?\"\r\n\r\nThey looked at one another inquiringly and slowly shook their heads.\r\n\r\nGood reader, after more than ten years, when they talk about this\r\nperiod of their lives, they still look inquiringly at one another and\r\nslowly shake their heads.\r\n\r\n_Who could it have been? How did it come about?_\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nWhen Hansie went out into the garden an hour or so later to gather\r\nroses for the table, Harmony was flooded with the exquisite morning\r\nsun, the birds were twittering and bickering among themselves, and\r\nCarlo sprang up to meet her, barking an affectionate \"good morning,\"\r\nas he playfully capered round his mistress.\r\n\r\nAs she stooped down to pat him she glanced through her hair to the\r\ncamp, where some of the men were bending over their camp-fires and\r\nothers were rubbing down and feeding their horses.\r\n\r\nWill you believe it? At the first sight of the girl every man dropped\r\nhis work, stood up straight and stared at her in open-mouthed\r\nastonishment as if he had never seen her before. They even got\r\ntogether again in little groups of twos and threes and began talking\r\nrapidly to one another. Their amazement, their consternation was so\r\nobvious that Hansie found it difficult to pretend that she saw nothing\r\nunusual in their behaviour, and when she joined her mother at the\r\nbreakfast-table and told her what a commotion her appearance had\r\ncreated, Mrs. van Warmelo said: \"It is the same with me. Wherever I\r\nshow myself under the verandahs or in the garden, I am met with stares\r\nthat can only be described as thunderstruck.\"\r\n\r\n\"And that, after all the months they have spent within earshot of all\r\nthat went on at Harmony! Why, mother, those men have never lifted\r\ntheir heads when we have passed them for a year and more, they had got\r\nso used to us, but now----!\"\r\n\r\nShe went on more seriously:\r\n\r\n\"We can never be thankful enough that you found this out in time. The\r\nmembers of the Committee must be warned not to come to Harmony, but we\r\nmust invite lots of other people. Let us give a few fruit parties and\r\nmusical evenings for the young people, and above all, let us invite\r\nthe Consuls and their families.\" Hansie was feeling hopeful, buoyed up\r\nby the unlooked-for privilege of having been put on her guard, but\r\nMrs. van Warmelo was silent and depressed.\r\n\r\n\"I am thinking about the spies,\" she said at last. \"How can we ever\r\nharbour them here again? How can we let them know that Harmony is\r\nbeing watched? How shall we get through the anxiety and suspense when\r\nwe begin to expect them again? Naudé's last words to me were, 'We\r\nshall be with you four weeks from now, when the moon is young again.'\"\r\n\r\nHansie looked thoughtful, but brightened up again immediately.\r\n\r\n\"We have always the sign on the gatepost to fall back on, you know,\r\nmother dear, but I hope it won't be necessary to put that up. In the\r\nmeantime let us watch developments. We have nothing to be anxious\r\nabout _yet_, and when the time comes we shall know what to do. Just\r\nthink how terrible it would have been if this had happened yesterday\r\nwhile Naudé was in the house!\"\r\n\r\nBut poor Mrs. van Warmelo could not shake off her gloom, and Hansie,\r\nwho, strange to say, was usually most hopeful and strong in the\r\npresence of depressed folk, but pessimistic and downhearted when\r\nothers were most bright, sighed for once and allowed herself to be\r\ncast down by her mother's forebodings.\r\n\r\nThey realised that an anxious time was before them, their worst fear\r\nbeing that Naudé and his companions had been captured the previous\r\nnight and that some time would probably elapse before they knew with\r\nany certainty what his fate had been.\r\n\r\nThat they were safe in his hands they never doubted for a moment, but\r\nthere were too many others, practically unknown to them, concerned in\r\nthis enterprise, and every conspirator more added to the list made\r\ntheir own position less secure.\r\n\r\n\"I think I must go to Mrs. Joubert this afternoon, mother, to see if I\r\ncan get hold of van der Westhuizen. Perhaps he can throw some light on\r\nthe subject. At any rate he will be able to tell us whether he parted\r\nfrom Naudé under favourable conditions last night.\"\r\n\r\n\"Do that,\" Mrs. van Warmelo answered, \"if you can make sure beforehand\r\nof not being watched. Don't go to that house if you have any reason to\r\nthink you are being followed. We are on the black list now, but that\r\nmakes it all the more necessary for us to protect our friends.\"\r\n\r\n\"Yes, mother; but the Jouberts have been under suspicion so long and\r\nhave so successfully escaped detection that I am sure their names have\r\nlong since been removed from the black list.\"\r\n\r\n\"Don't be too sure. Jannie's transportation was not a sign of the\r\ncessation of hostilities. The enemy is not asleep, but merely\r\nslumbering, as far as they are concerned--that is, if this thing\"\r\n(waving her hand over Harmony) \"has not roused him completely.\"\r\n\r\nAll day long, and in fact for many days after, an unusual commotion\r\nwas apparent in the Military Camp.\r\n\r\nDetectives could be seen coming and going, little groups of soldiers\r\nclustered together, and even \"Judas-Boers\" made their appearance on\r\nthe lower portion of Harmony, examining the ground and following the\r\ntracks made by the spies in their escape from the town.\r\n\r\nBeyond that the van Warmelos could not follow their investigations,\r\nand whether they found conclusive evidence in the marks made by the\r\nmen at the closely barbed and netted drift, under the railway bridge,\r\nwill never be known, but there was reason to believe that the last\r\nremaining route of the spies had been discovered. Brave hearts sank at\r\nthe thought of their probable fate when they tried that route again.\r\n\r\nBut, thank God! the birds had flown--for the time at least.\r\n\r\nThat afternoon, when Hansie cycled to Mrs. Joubert's house, the\r\nstreets were quiet and practically deserted. She was quite sure that\r\nno one followed her, for she dropped her handkerchief once and had\r\nsuddenly to turn and pick it up.\r\n\r\nCarlo was some way ahead of her and did not notice the interruption\r\nuntil she was on her bicycle again, when he came tearing back to find\r\nout what had happened, furious with himself for having missed the\r\nsmallest piece of excitement. After that he did not leave her side\r\nagain, but trotted quietly along, watching her every moment from the\r\ncorner of his eye.\r\n\r\nWhen Hansie entered the house in Visagie Street, Carlo stretched\r\nhimself as usual beside her bicycle, ostensibly to sleep, but in\r\nreality on guard and alert with every nerve in his quick body. Hansie\r\nwas thankful to find van der Westhuizen in; in fact, he was expecting\r\nher and wished to see her, but did not think it advisable to go to\r\nHarmony.\r\n\r\n\"Tell me all about last night,\" she said. \"Tell me everything, and\r\nthen I have something to tell you too.\"\r\n\r\n\"Well,\" he said, and the inscrutable face was for once turned to her\r\nin frank confidence, \"after we left Harmony last night things did not\r\ngo as smoothly as we expected. It was all right as long as we were in\r\nthe bush, and we were able to get our heavy parcels through safely,\r\nbut when we came to the drift we found it strongly guarded. We\r\nretreated at once without a sound and lay down in the thick shrubs to\r\nwait. The men were nervous and impatient, and after a little while\r\nBrenckmann borrowed my residential pass from me and walked on ahead to\r\nsee if the coast were clear.\r\n\r\n\"He soon came back and said it was impossible to get through.\r\n\r\n\"After a short consultation, Naudé advised me to come home. They would\r\nstay in the bush and wait until the moon went down, he said. I hated\r\nleaving them in such a plight, but Naudé insisted, and I only came\r\naway when he said he thought there would be more chance for them to\r\nget through unobserved if they were fewer in number. How they managed\r\nwithout residential passes and handicapped by those parcels, I do not\r\nknow.\"\r\n\r\n\"God only knows how they _do_ manage,\" Hansie answered sombrely.\r\n\"Well, I have nothing good to relate either.\"\r\n\r\nShe told him in a few words what had happened at Harmony, and the\r\nsteadfast face opposite her, so calm and strong, grew more grave as\r\nshe proceeded.\r\n\r\n\"This is very serious,\" he said at last; \"then the fact of their being\r\nin town, and the route they had taken, must have been known to the\r\nenemy yesterday. That is why we found the drift guarded. But do not be\r\ndowncast. I am sure they got through unharmed, for there has been no\r\ncommotion of any sort in town. I always know when prisoners have been\r\ntaken. We must be thankful they were not discovered in your house.\"\r\n\r\nHansie nodded, and the quiet voice went on:\r\n\r\n\"You are in no danger now----\"\r\n\r\nBut the girl broke in impetuously:\r\n\r\n\"Oh, that does not trouble me at all, but I would give my life to know\r\nthat those men were with General Botha now. I am only anxious about\r\nthem.\"\r\n\r\n\"I am not,\" he answered. \"The Captain is a man of vast experience.\r\nThis was not his first visit to Pretoria. Venter has been five times\r\nin Pretoria and nine times in Johannesburg under the same conditions.\r\nBrenckmann, too, can speak of unique experiences--but I can bet you\r\nanything that _he_ will never come in again.\"\r\n\r\n\"Why not?\"\r\n\r\n\"Oh, he had an awful time here. There are khakis and handsuppers\r\nliving all round his house, to some of whom he is well known by\r\nsight. It was found necessary to conceal him, and for three days and\r\ntwo nights the poor boy was stowed away in a tiny attic, just under\r\nthe corrugated-iron roof and hardly large enough to hold a man. There\r\nhe lay in the suffocating heat of those endless days, only coming out\r\nat night for a few hours like the bats and owls. No, he won't trouble\r\nus again!\"\r\n\r\nBefore she left she told him what had been arranged about a sign on\r\nthe gatepost and asked van der Westhuizen to warn her friends of the\r\n\"inner circle\" that Harmony was no longer a safe place to visit,\r\nbegging them to keep this information to themselves, \"because,\" she\r\nadded, \"the enemy must not know that we know.\" Later on she hoped to\r\nsee him again when the time approached for Naudé to come again, but\r\nshe advised him not to visit Harmony unnecessarily, as much would\r\ndepend on him in the event of a raid on Harmony and the transportation\r\nof its inhabitants to other regions.\r\n\r\nI can only say in conclusion of this chapter that the friends of the\r\n\"inner circle,\" Mrs. Malan, Mrs. Joubert, Mrs. Armstrong, Mrs. Honey,\r\nand a few others, bravely scorned the idea of avoiding Harmony.\r\n\r\n\"Why should we not come?\" Mrs. Armstrong asked, with her cheerful,\r\never-ready laugh; \"don't other people come here still?\"\r\n\r\n\"Oh yes, but----\"\r\n\r\n\"Then why not we? The more the better, say I! Surely we cannot _all_\r\nbe arrested and sent away!\"\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nCHAPTER XXXVIII\r\n\r\nTHE RAID ON HARMONY\r\n\r\n\r\nIt was the peacefullest, decentest raid I ever heard of, and it would\r\nbe difficult to think of anything with a termination more tame and\r\ncommonplace.\r\n\r\nBut we have not got there yet.\r\n\r\nThe events which led up to it must be got over first as briefly as\r\npossible, and then we go on to what was called a formal declaration of\r\nwar between the inmates of the Military Camp and the two principal\r\nactors at Harmony.\r\n\r\nAfter the van Warmelos had discovered on December 20th, through the\r\nenemy's rank stupidity, that they had been found out, a regular game\r\nof hide-and-seek began to be played in and around their beautiful\r\ngarden.\r\n\r\nThe curious thing about this game was that it was only carried on\r\nunder cover of darkness and intense silence, a silence which could\r\nalmost be felt, and which became so uncanny as time went on that the\r\nwomen found it quite insupportable and had no peace by night or by day\r\nuntil the day on which, a month later, the enemy took the initiative\r\nand made what may be called an attack in front. There was only one\r\nnoisy actor in the game, which was played for four solid weeks before\r\nthe crash came, and as many after, and that was Carlo, but, although\r\nhis feelings found relief in constant growlings and furious barkings,\r\nI do believe even his nerves suffered under the constant strain, for\r\nhe became more and more irritable and restless as time went on.\r\n\r\nThat dog gave a lot of trouble in those days and was a source of great\r\nanxiety, as my reader will see presently.\r\n\r\nThe fruit season was at its height. The garden, heavily laden with the\r\nburden of luscious fruits and blooming flowers, was a scene of beauty\r\nand riotous luxury impossible to describe; and as the different fruit\r\ntrees bloomed and bore their rich harvest in rapid succession, each\r\nafter its kind--apricots, figs, pears, plums, apples, peaches, and,\r\nlast but not least, the noble vine with its great bunches of purple\r\nand white--Hansie and her mother revelled in the wealth of Nature's\r\nextravagance from morn till eve.\r\n\r\nMrs. van Warmelo, an energetic and tireless gardener, spent all her\r\ntime amongst the fruit, while indoors the task of putting up in jars\r\nfor winter use fell mainly on Hansie's shoulders.\r\n\r\nNothing was allowed to run to waste, and that year was always\r\nremembered as an exceptionally fine fruit season.\r\n\r\nIt was nothing for Mrs. van Warmelo to have 100 lb. of grapes cut\r\nbefore breakfast and have them conveyed to the early market, and even\r\nthen the vines bore no trace of having been robbed or tampered with.\r\n\r\nThe soldiers, too, got their share, and the sergeant-major's small\r\nbasket was often filled--for were they not on the best of terms with\r\none another?\r\n\r\nBut when the shades of night fell over the land, and silence settled\r\non the birds and beasts and flowers, the sense of careless freedom and\r\nsecurity deserted our heroines entirely.\r\n\r\nUnseen eyes watched them from behind the leaves, and they knew that\r\nthe very trees under which they sat had ears, straining to catch up\r\ntheir every conversation.\r\n\r\nThe Military Police--unknown to the women, as they thought--were\r\nguarding them and their property from intruders, and this was known by\r\nCarlo's incessant growlings and his furious, sudden fits of barking\r\nwhenever he came upon some midnight prowler hidden under the trees.\r\n\r\nI am sure the good dog never understood Hansie's apathy on this point.\r\n\r\nAfter all he did to warn her of foul play, to have his efforts\r\nrewarded with a scolding or a careless \"Do be quiet, Carlo. The kitty\r\nis only catching moths,\" seemed unjust and quite unlike his mistress's\r\nusual ready sympathy.\r\n\r\nIn time he got used to finding strangers in the privacy of his domain\r\nand only showed his dissatisfaction with an occasional low growl or a\r\nvicious snarl.\r\n\r\nPerhaps \"Gentleman Jim\" was not so bad after all, or perhaps he was\r\nonly stupid, because a few days after the flight of our friends he\r\ncame to Mrs. van Warmelo with the information, given with an amused\r\nsmile and more drawl than usual, that \"the officer had promised him\r\nplenty money\" if he ever caught a Boer on the premises or in the\r\ngarden, and that in future a strict watch would be held over the\r\nproperty and an extra vigilance preserved whenever the dog barked.\r\n\r\nWhat more proof could be wanted after that? Now they knew exactly how\r\nthe land lay, and in their hearts they thanked their simple servant\r\nand still more simple foe, for the confirmation of their suspicions.\r\n\r\nAs the weeks went by and the time for the Captain's next visit drew\r\nnear, Mrs. van Warmelo again and again urged the necessity of putting\r\nup the danger-signal (a small block of wood, which was kept ready with\r\na nail through it, lying hidden behind the post), only to be met with\r\nan obstinate refusal from her daughter.\r\n\r\n\"How can you be so reckless and foolhardy, Hansie?\" her mother would\r\nexclaim. \"We know that the men may come in any night, and we know that\r\nthe house and grounds are being watched, and yet you want me to let\r\nour friends run right into the trap, without lifting a finger to save\r\nthem! It would be an unpardonable thing, and I do believe you are only\r\nlonging to have the excitement of harbouring spies again!\"\r\n\r\nHansie laughed.\r\n\r\n\"Perhaps that is it! But think of the disappointment of the men to be\r\nturned back at our very doors after having come so far through untold\r\ndangers! Depend upon it they will not come in again for nothing. They\r\nwent through too much last time, and there will be work of some\r\nimportance for us all to do if they come in again, you may be sure of\r\nthat. No, dear mother, let us risk it, I beg of you. We are still in\r\nthe house, and Naudé is no chicken. He will reach us in spite of\r\nguards and fences, and----\"\r\n\r\n\"Be followed right up to the house and be taken here like a rat in a\r\ntrap,\" Mrs. van Warmelo continued gloomily.\r\n\r\n\"I am not so sure,\" Hansie exclaimed, as cheerfully as her sinking\r\nheart allowed, when this horrible picture rose before her.\r\n\r\n\"You know what our experience has been of English vigilance and\r\nEnglish sagacity; now, if they had some of Carlo's intelligence we\r\nwould have some reason to be anxious.\"\r\n\r\nThe danger-signal was not put up, but that things would have ended\r\nexactly as Mrs. van Warmelo predicted I now have not a shadow of\r\ndoubt.\r\n\r\nThe spies would have glided into the house in the false security\r\noccasioned by the absence of the danger-signal, they would have been\r\nwatched and followed to the very doors by the hidden foe, the house\r\nwould have been surrounded and stormed by armed men, and a fierce, an\r\nunspeakably horrible encounter would have ended in death and\r\ndestruction--_if they had come_. But they were prevented on commando\r\nfrom keeping their appointment that month--and at the very time when\r\nthey expected to be safely housed under Harmony's hospitable roof, the\r\nplace was surrounded, an entry forced and every corner of the house\r\nsearched for spies.\r\n\r\nIt happened \"like so,\" and we must now turn our attention for a moment\r\nto a matter of small importance in order to understand why Hansie was\r\nfrom home at a critical time, and how she missed the keen enjoyment of\r\nbeing present at the \"raid.\"\r\n\r\nFor some weeks the advisability of leaving home on a pleasure trip had\r\nbeen discussed. While the moon was on the wane their friends from\r\ncommando would not be likely to pay them a visit, but Mrs. van\r\nWarmelo, who never had much inclination to leave her little paradise,\r\npersuaded Hansie to go to Johannesburg for a few days alone to a dear\r\nyoung friend, newly wed, who had repeatedly begged her to come.\r\n\r\nThey hoped that such an attitude of innocent pleasure-making on their\r\npart would avert some of the suspicion which rested on their heads and\r\ncause a part, at least, of the surveillance to be withdrawn from\r\nHarmony.\r\n\r\nHansie hoped to be back home before the appearance of the new moon,\r\nthe time appointed for Naudé's next visit, and it was red-tape,\r\nnothing but red-tape, through which she was undone.\r\n\r\nSo many difficulties were placed in the way of her obtaining the\r\nnecessary permits that by the time she got away she should have been\r\non her return journey.\r\n\r\nLet us see what her diary says.\r\n\r\n \"January 10th, Friday.\r\n\r\n \"My poor old diary! I begin to foresee that it is going to die a\r\n natural death, simply because I am tired of recording lies and\r\n rumours [this was the black-and-white diary, kept on purpose to\r\n mislead the enemy, should it fall into their hands].\r\n\r\n \"I am now busy preparing for a little trip to Johannesburg, but\r\n oh dear! the difficulty one has in getting permits!\r\n\r\n \"The English have never been so strict before!\r\n\r\n \"Major Hoskins (who could have helped me without further\r\n reference had he wished) sent me to the Commissioner of Police,\r\n who asked me to produce a note of recommendation from my 'ward\r\n officer' in B. Ward.\r\n\r\n \"My 'ward officer' refused to give me a permit without a\r\n medical certificate that I required a change of air.\r\n\r\n \"I told him shortly that I was going for pleasure and that I\r\n would appeal to General Maxwell if he could not assist me. He\r\n said 'that made all the difference!' (what did he mean?) and\r\n asked me for the name and address of the people with whom I\r\n would be staying in Johannesburg, so I gave him Pauline's box\r\n number.\r\n\r\n \"No, that was not sufficient, he must have the name of the\r\n street and the number of the house.\r\n\r\n \"'I do not remember the number, but I shall go home to look it\r\n up and come back at once.'\r\n\r\n \"'It will--er--be more convenient if you bring it to-morrow,' he\r\n said.\"\r\n\r\nAnd Hansie understood that he was gaining time.\r\n\r\nAfter all the fuss that had been made, she was not surprised next day\r\nwhen the Commissioner of Police asked her, very politely, while\r\nclosely inspecting the \"note of recommendation,\" to call for her\r\npermits on Monday (this was Thursday), as there would be some delay in\r\nhaving them \"approved\" by the other officials.\r\n\r\nThis was again done to gain time while the authorities were putting\r\ntheir heads together, trying to find out \"what the dickens\" she could\r\nwant in Johannesburg.\r\n\r\nHansie knew this well enough, although she filled her diary with\r\nlamentations and wonderings.\r\n\r\n\"Will you be all right alone, mother, at a time like this?\" Hansie\r\nasked, as, with her permits at last in her possession, she hugged her\r\nmother in affectionate farewell.\r\n\r\n\"Oh yes, I am well guarded, as you know,\" Mrs. van Warmelo answered,\r\nlaughing; \"there is plenty of time, and you will be back before\r\nanything can happen.\"\r\n\r\nHansie looked doubtful. Was her mother play-acting? Did she mind being\r\nleft, and was she only eager to have her daughter out of danger's way?\r\nOr did she intend putting up the danger-signal, after all?\r\n\r\nYou see, Hansie was getting so used to plotting and scheming that she\r\ncould not help turning her newly acquired detective propensities on\r\nher nearest and dearest when occasion offered, and she even misdoubted\r\nthe behaviour of her mother, tried as she had been, and never found\r\nwanting, in many a crisis in the past.\r\n\r\n\"You will wire for me, won't you?\" she asked suspiciously.\r\n\r\n\"Of course, of course--but there will be nothing to wire about, I am\r\nquite sure.\"\r\n\r\nWith a sigh and many anxious forebodings, Hansie drove to the station\r\non her way to her \"pleasure trip.\"\r\n\r\nShe was met in the Golden City, now more like a Dead City, by loving\r\nfriends and a magnificent St. Bernard dog, Nero, who soon made her\r\nfeel at home, although they could not altogether banish the cares,\r\ndimly guessed at by them, with which she was oppressed.\r\n\r\nThe most reassuring news from home continued to reach her until one\r\nmorning, on the sixth day after her arrival, a brief postcard from her\r\nmother informed her in a few bald words that Harmony had been searched\r\non \"Sunday morning the 19th inst.\"\r\n\r\nA few hours later Hansie was in the train, speeding, with remorse\r\ntugging at her heart, to her mother's side.\r\n\r\nIt was something of a disappointment to her, on arriving at Harmony,\r\nto find everything exactly as she had left it.\r\n\r\nCarlo greeted her with his old extravagant demonstrations of affection\r\nand delight, and when she looked searchingly into her mother's face\r\nshe was met with a beaming smile. There was no trace of the ordeal she\r\nhad faced alone, and Hansie's anxious heart gave a throb of relief.\r\n\r\nShe was soon in full possession of the details of the adventure, and\r\nit appeared that the \"raid\" had been made in the early hours of the\r\n19th (Jan.), Sunday morning.\r\n\r\nIt had been raining heavily all night, and the torrents were still\r\ncoming down drenchingly when Mrs. van Warmelo was aroused by a knock\r\nat her bedroom window and \"Gentleman Jim's\" voice, with all the drawl\r\ngone, calling out anxiously, \"Missis, come, the police want you!\"\r\n\r\nMrs. van Warmelo dressed hurriedly, and on opening the front door was\r\nmet by an officer, who informed her that he had been ordered by the\r\nCommissioner of Police to search her house.\r\n\r\nArmed soldiers were standing about, guarding the different entrances.\r\n\r\nMrs. van Warmelo led the way, and the officer went through the house\r\nwith her alone, glancing under beds, opening wardrobes and moving\r\nscreens in his search \"for men,\" as he said in reply to her\r\nquestions.\r\n\r\n\"I am surprised that you should have been sent to search my house for\r\n_men_,\" she said, with righteous indignation.\r\n\r\n\"I was surprised to see _your_ name on the black list, Mrs. van\r\nWarmelo,\" he answered.\r\n\r\nShe watched him in puzzled silence.\r\n\r\nEvidently he knew her, or her name. Quite evidently he was no\r\nEnglishman--only a South African could pronounce her name like that.\r\n\r\nWhen they reached the passage leading to the kitchen the officer\r\nsuddenly started at the sight of Flippie's form lying curled up in\r\ndeep sleep. He bent over him, pulled his blanket down cautiously, and\r\nsaid below his breath, \"Oh, a boy!\"\r\n\r\nThe house having been thoroughly searched, he turned to Mrs. van\r\nWarmelo and, courteously thanking her for having allowed him to do so,\r\nasked permission to go through the out-buildings, which was instantly\r\ngranted. There was no one, of course, and the military, if they had\r\nexpected to make any sensational discoveries that morning, were\r\ngrievously disappointed.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\n\"Well, I am glad it is over, mamma,\" Hansie said when the story came\r\nto an end.\r\n\r\n\"It is better to have the house searched _in vain_, than not to have\r\nit searched at all, when one is on the black list. Perhaps the\r\nsurveillance on Harmony will now be removed, at least to some extent,\r\nand the danger to Captain Naudé, when he comes in again, considerably\r\nlessened.\"\r\n\r\nThat this was the case we shall see in our next chapter.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nCHAPTER XXXIX\r\n\r\nTHE WATCHWORD. OILING THE HINGES\r\n\r\n\r\nThree weeks went uneventfully by.\r\n\r\nVisitors at Harmony were few and far between, for the story of the\r\n\"raid\" went quickly through the town, and many people who had been in\r\nthe habit of visiting the van Warmelos, all unsuspecting of the cloud\r\nunder which they rested, took alarm at this first open hint of danger\r\nand discreetly withdrew from the scene.\r\n\r\nWhen Hansie thought of them it was with some contempt and bitterness,\r\nbut her mind was, at the time, occupied with more important matters,\r\nand her fair-weather friends soon passed from her life, never to\r\nreturn again.\r\n\r\nOnly about a dozen remained, mostly women, friends staunch and true,\r\nupon whom one could depend through days of the most crushing\r\nadversity.\r\n\r\nHow close we came to one another in those days only those who have\r\nbeen through similar experiences can ever realise.\r\n\r\nThose three uneventful weeks were by no means the least trying of the\r\nlong war. Sorely tested nervous systems were giving way, fine\r\nconstitutions were being broken down, and powers of resistance had\r\nreached their limit. It needed but the acute anxiety and intense\r\nstrain of the last adventure which I am about to relate, to reduce our\r\nheroines to a state bordering on the hysterical.\r\n\r\nThe phases of the moon were watched in suspense, and when the time\r\ndrew near for the next visit from the spies, Mrs. van Warmelo took the\r\nprecaution of locking Carlo up in the kitchen before retiring for the\r\nnight. Although she let him out very early every morning in order not\r\nto arouse the suspicions of the servants, \"Gentleman Jim,\" ever on the\r\nalert, soon found out that something unusual was taking place.\r\n\r\n\"Why you lock up the dog every night, missis?\" he inquired one\r\nmorning.\r\n\r\nMrs. van Warmelo was completely taken by surprise, but answered with\r\ngreat presence of mind:\r\n\r\n\"Oh, because he barks so much that we cannot sleep. But I think I will\r\nhave to let him out again, because thieves will help themselves to the\r\nfruit if there is no watch-dog about.\"\r\n\r\nThe ruse had been found out and Carlo had to be released, although his\r\nvigilance added greatly to the dangers of the situation.\r\n\r\nThe grapes were ripe, great luxurious bunches of purple and golden\r\nfruit were weighing down the sturdy old vines.\r\n\r\n\"I wish Captain Naudé would come,\" Hansie sighed. \"Harmony is at its\r\nvery best.\"\r\n\r\n\"He won't come again, I am convinced of that,\" her mother answered\r\nmournfully. \"No more news from the field for us. The dangers are too\r\ngreat, and nothing could be gained by coming into town now that our\r\nfriends have nearly all been sent away.\"\r\n\r\n\"We shall see,\" Hansie said cheerfully. \"I have a strong presentiment\r\nthat the men are coming in this very night. I am going to put\r\neverything in readiness for them, and we must go to bed early, dear\r\nmother. Perhaps we shall have very little rest to-night.\"\r\n\r\nThis was Sunday night, February 9th.\r\n\r\nHansie packed away various little articles lying about the bedrooms\r\nand bathroom, and generally prepared herself for the midnight\r\nadventure which she felt more than ever convinced would take place\r\nwithin a few hours, while Mrs. van Warmelo went about with a feather\r\nand an oil-can, oiling the hinges and locks.\r\n\r\nShe was soon sound asleep in her mother's bedroom, for the two women\r\nwere not as brave as they had been during the first part of the war\r\nand had got into the habit of sleeping together \"for company.\"\r\n\r\nSuddenly at about 2 a.m. they both started up violently, at the sound\r\nof Carlo's furious barking near their window, where he usually kept\r\nguard.\r\n\r\nMrs. van Warmelo sat up and panted \"Here they are,\" but Hansie's heart\r\nwas beating so loudly in her throat that she was unable to reply.\r\n\r\nMrs. van Warmelo went quickly to the window, and on cautiously raising\r\nthe blind saw the forms of two men close to the window,\r\nundistinguishable in the darkness but quite evidently the cause of\r\nCarlo's startled and furious barkings. She ran through the bathroom\r\nand, opening the door leading to the garden, asked softly, \"Who is\r\nthere?\"\r\n\r\n\"Appelkoos,\" the welcome answer came clearly and cautiously, and Mrs.\r\nvan Warmelo drew the men unceremoniously into the room, noiselessly\r\nlocking the door.\r\n\r\n\"Not a word, not a sound,\" she commanded, \"remove your boots--you have\r\nnever been in greater peril.\"\r\n\r\n\"Hush! What was that? A man's voice outside! The sergeant-major? The\r\npolice? My God! then we are lost indeed!\"\r\n\r\nBut no! Only one moment of agonising suspense and the familiar voice\r\nof \"Gentleman Jim\" could be heard, reprimanding the growling watchdog.\r\n\r\n\"What for you make so much noise, Carlo? Go to sleep, bad dog--you\r\nfrighten everybody when you kick up so much row.\"\r\n\r\nMuttering discontentedly, he retired to his room, evidently reassured\r\nby the dead silence which pervaded the house.\r\n\r\nFor some time the four people inside stood close together without a\r\nword. No lights were lit, no sound whatever made until Carlo's\r\nrestless growlings ceased and he had settled himself to sleep again.\r\n\r\nThen only were a few whispered words of welcome and greeting exchanged\r\nand a breathless account given of the dangers with which Harmony was\r\nsurrounded.\r\n\r\n\"How did you come in?\" Mrs. van Warmelo asked.\r\n\r\n\"Through the drift,\" Naudé replied. \"There were no guards--in fact, we\r\ndid not see a soul from first to last, and the dog was the only one to\r\nobject to our midnight wanderings. We were nearly on top of him before\r\nhe woke.\"\r\n\r\nNearly on top of the sensitive and alert watchdog before he became\r\naware of their proximity! No wonder, then, that the Boer spies\r\nfrequently glided up so close to the English outposts that they were\r\nable to knock them down with a wooden stick or the butt end of a gun\r\nbefore they could give the alarm or utter a sound!\r\n\r\nThe men were tired and exhausted, and gladly stretched themselves on\r\nthe beds to get what sleep they could before morning, having first\r\ndivested themselves of their outward trappings, helmets, etc., which\r\nthey buried under the floor. As before, the Captain came in a khaki\r\nuniform, while his orderly, Venter, was dressed like a soldier.\r\n\r\nAs it was necessary for them to remain in Mrs. van Warmelo's bedroom\r\nin order to be near their place of refuge under the floor, mother and\r\ndaughter retired to the dining-room, there to watch and wait for the\r\ndawn of day.\r\n\r\nWould the long night _never_ end?\r\n\r\nEvery time Carlo barked the two women started up from their couches\r\nand listened with straining ears for sounds of commotion outside--but\r\nin vain. Nothing disturbed the serenity of the night, and when the\r\nrosy glow of dawn broke in the eastern sky and gradually spread its\r\nglory over the hushed and expectant earth, Hansie fell into a fitful\r\nslumber.\r\n\r\nNot so her mother. Mrs. van Warmelo had been quietly pondering over\r\n\"Gentleman Jim's\" unexpected appearance at the first sign of commotion\r\nin the night and had come to the conclusion that something should be\r\ndone to disarm his suspicions.\r\n\r\nThat the guard of Military Police had been withdrawn from Harmony was\r\nvery evident, but it was quite possible that the task of maintaining\r\na vigilant watch had been transferred to Jim, with promises of a\r\nliberal payment if he succeeded in getting information which might\r\nlead to the arrest of Boer spies.\r\n\r\nMrs. van Warmelo therefore cautiously rose, while the rest of the\r\nhousehold lay in sleep, plucked clusters of grapes from the vines and\r\nstrewed them about the garden paths. The ruse answered excellently.\r\n\r\n\"Gentleman Jim\" himself discovered the grapes lying about the garden\r\nand was loud in his expressions of indignation.\r\n\r\n\"Them thieves have been at the grapes again,\" he called out.\r\n\r\n\"Look here, missis, here is a bunch--and another, and here is some\r\nmore.\" He shook his head in despair.\r\n\r\nThe sergeant-major too was sent for and informed of the plundering\r\nthat had been carried on in the small hours of the morning.\r\n\r\n\"What is to be done?\" he asked. \"Shall I put a guard here again?\"\r\n\r\nMrs. van Warmelo thanked him for his kind offer, but thought that very\r\nlittle damage had been done, and was of opinion that Carlo's vigilance\r\nwould be sufficient to prevent the thieves, whoever they might be,\r\nfrom returning on a second pilfering expedition.\r\n\r\nWhen Hansie woke it was past six o'clock, and the Captain was sitting\r\nnear her, drinking coffee and chatting with her mother in a\r\nmatter-of-fact way, evidently quite at home and glad to find himself\r\nin such comfortable quarters again.\r\n\r\nThe whole of that eventful February 10th was spent in writing\r\ndispatches and procuring articles of clothing and small necessaries\r\nfor the men to take out with them; three pairs of riding-breeches,\r\nshirts, brown felt hats, leggings, boots, soap, salt, cotton, etc.,\r\netc.\r\n\r\nFortunately, among the few remaining men in town who could be trusted\r\nto carry out these commissions was the young man behind the counter in\r\n_the_ store in Church Street.\r\n\r\nTo him Hansie went with a small list, which she laid before him\r\nwithout a word.\r\n\r\nHe glanced over it and whistled softly.\r\n\r\n\"Leggings? Riding-breeches? When must you have them?\"\r\n\r\n\"If possible this evening,\" she replied.\r\n\r\n\"I'll do my best,\" he said, and she departed joyfully.\r\n\r\n\"Now, I could never have got those things myself without rousing great\r\nsuspicion,\" she thought as she cycled rapidly to the next person whom\r\nshe had been instructed to see--van der Westhuizen with the bandaged\r\narm.\r\n\r\n\"The Captain came last night with Venter,\" she whispered hurriedly.\r\n\"They are at Harmony, and Naudé wishes to see you as soon as possible\r\non a matter of great importance. No one must know of his presence in\r\ntown this time, not even our best friends, for he has a dangerous\r\nmission to fulfil and you must help him.\"\r\n\r\n\"I shall be there some time to-day,\" he said.\r\n\r\nHansie thanked him and departed.\r\n\r\nMuch writing work waited her at Harmony, and the rest of the day was\r\nspent in drawing up dispatches at the Captain's dictation and making\r\nnotes of the condition of the various commandos.\r\n\r\nIn the course of a long conversation with him he told her the object\r\nof his visit and why he required van der Westhuizen's services.\r\n\r\n\"My flying column of scouts is over sixty strong, picked men and\r\nwonderfully brave,\" he said. \"They are all in khaki and scour the\r\ncountry, doing the enemy incalculable harm, but they would be of more\r\nservice to the commandos if they had better horses. Our horses are\r\nworn-out and underfed, their life is very hard, and it is imperative\r\nthat we should have them reinforced. Now, we have heard that there are\r\nmany magnificent horses kept at Skinner's Court, remounts kept in good\r\ncondition for the special use of officers. Those horses we must have,\r\nand we have come to get all the information we can about the strength\r\nof the guards at Skinner's Court. For this I require van der\r\nWesthuizen's assistance.\"\r\n\r\nHansie felt a thrill of excitement.\r\n\r\nThe adventure was very much to her taste, and she remembered with\r\ndelight that first successful raid on British stables. She wished she\r\ncould supply the desired information. To steal the enemy's best horses\r\nseemed to her an enterprise worth toiling for, for there would\r\nprobably be little or no bloodshed connected with it and, if\r\nsuccessful, the reward would be very great.\r\n\r\nBut she felt assured that the adventure could not be in more capable,\r\nmore trustworthy hands than in those of the silent van der Westhuizen.\r\n\r\nWhen van der Westhuizen arrived, he and the Captain were closeted\r\ntogether in the bedroom for nearly an hour, and then he departed as\r\nsilently as he had come, but Hansie had observed the look of\r\nsteadfast determination on his face, and was satisfied.\r\n\r\nVery unlike the previous visit was this, the last sojourn of the\r\nSecret Service men at Harmony.\r\n\r\nThere was no entertaining of shoals of trusted friends, no lying about\r\nunder the trees, no sociable gathering of strawberries.\r\n\r\nThe men were not allowed to leave their bedroom during the day, but\r\nremained in safe proximity to the place of refuge under the floor,\r\nwhere their belongings lay buried.\r\n\r\nOf the many plans devised by Mrs. van Warmelo for the safety of her\r\nguests, the following was decided upon as being the most ingenious:\r\n\r\nA large bath was brought into her bedroom and half-filled with soapy\r\nwater, bath-towels, sponges, and other toilet requisites being placed\r\nnear by in readiness for use. In the event of a raid, Mrs. van Warmelo\r\n(if she had time to do so) would rush into the room, locking the door\r\non the inside, while her daughter (if she had the presence of mind and\r\nkept cool enough) informed the police that her mother was having a\r\nbath. Thus time would be gained to enable the men to creep into their\r\nhiding-place.\r\n\r\nThe bath of soapy water, standing in readiness night and day, was a\r\nconstant source of amusement during that time of suspense.\r\n\r\nThe men begged to be allowed to smoke, but Mrs. van Warmelo protested\r\nstrongly. In case of an unexpected search, how was she going to\r\naccount for the smell of smoke in her bedroom?\r\n\r\nSeeing, however, that this restriction was becoming a source of great\r\ndiscomfort to them in the monotony of their imprisonment, she gave\r\nthem permission to smoke in the dining-room while she and Hansie kept\r\nwatch outside.\r\n\r\nEven with these precautions Mrs. van Warmelo seemed to feel very\r\nuneasy, and Hansie coming into the kitchen unexpectedly one afternoon,\r\nfound the Captain standing beside the stove and blowing vigorous puffs\r\nof smoke up the chimney!\r\n\r\nVolcanoes and earthquakes would have been a welcome change to every\r\none after those never-to-be-forgotten days of strain and tension; and\r\nmuch as Hansie had longed to see some one from commando again, her\r\nlonging to see these men depart became a hundred times more intense.\r\nThere was no pleasure for any one during that visit of two days, for\r\nthe very air was charged with treachery, and not even the servants\r\ncould be trusted with the dread secret.\r\n\r\nThe men were waited on stealthily, food was brought in unobserved and\r\nthe plates and dishes washed surreptitiously by the two watchful\r\nwomen, who took turns in guarding the place and enjoyed what\r\nconversation they could get in fragments from their guests.\r\n\r\nThat night was spent in anxiety and unrest, and again the glorious day\r\nwas hailed with joy and relief.\r\n\r\nVan der Westhuizen was an early visitor that morning, and the report\r\nof his investigations of the past night must have been highly\r\nsatisfactory to the men, to judge by their faces. The women were not\r\ntaken into their confidence, but Hansie watched and wondered, and\r\ndared not even ask whether the attack on Skinner's Court was to be\r\nmade or not.\r\n\r\nIt was better not to know.\r\n\r\nThe long summer's day went slowly by, broken only once when Hansie\r\nrushed into the bedroom with a breathless, \"Danger, danger--hide\r\nyourselves!\"\r\n\r\nIt was not at all funny at the time, but afterwards, when Hansie\r\nthought it over, she laughed and laughed again at the recollection of\r\nthose two men, diving for the hole in the floor, and of their\r\nresentful looks when they emerged, on hearing that the alarm had been\r\ncaused by the unexpected appearance of \"Um-Ah.\"\r\n\r\nThe departure that night was in dead silence. There was no hearty\r\n\"send-off\" under the six willows, no escort through the bush, van der\r\nWesthuizen alone going on ahead to see if the coast were clear.\r\n\r\nThe events of that night are blurred and vague in the memory of the\r\ntwo solitary women, and Hansie's diary contains but meagre information\r\non the subject--in fact, her war-diary practically ends here.\r\n\r\nFrail womanhood had reached the breaking-point.\r\n\r\nA period of dull suffering, of deadly indifference followed, broken\r\none day by the news, with which the whole town rang, that Skinner's\r\nCourt had been stormed by the Boers and that every horse had been\r\ntaken, fourteen in all, valuable remounts of the officers.\r\n\r\nHansie just glanced at her mother and then asked hoarsely, \"Was any\r\none hurt? Was any one taken?\"\r\n\r\n\"No,\" the answer came, with a curious look at her strained face; \"the\r\nattack was so wholly unexpected, and the Boers so evidently informed\r\nof every detail of the place, that they were gone with all the horses\r\nalmost before a shot could be fired.\"\r\n\r\nThis meant not only that the Captain had reached his men in safety,\r\nbut that the enterprising object of his visit had been successfully\r\ncarried out, beyond his most sanguine expectations.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nAnd now we take our leave of the brave Captain whose name appears so\r\noften and so honourably in this book, and in leaving him, we quote, at\r\nhis request, the tribute with which he closed his little book _In\r\nDoodsgevaar_ (\"In Danger of Death\")--published in August 1903--a\r\ntribute to the women who assisted him.\r\n\r\n \"I feel it my duty, before closing this story of our personal\r\n experiences of the war, to direct a word of thanks and\r\n appreciation to those faithful South African mothers and sisters\r\n who personally supported us during those difficult days and did\r\n what they could in Pretoria to further our cause in the field.\r\n But how can this be done? I have no adequate words at my\r\n command, and I feel that the work of these women is above all\r\n expression of appreciation.\"\r\n\r\n \"When I look back on those days, there floats across my mind not\r\n only the names, but also the personality of each of these worthy\r\n women, and I remember to the minutest detail their\r\n self-sacrifice and the zeal with which they stood by us during\r\n our visits to Pretoria, while exposed to the danger of\r\n themselves being plunged into the greatest difficulties. But for\r\n this they had no thought, no care, as long as the sacred cause\r\n could be advanced. I feel, however, that it would be out of\r\n place to mention the names of a few where so _many_ risked their\r\n all, willingly offering even the sacrifice of their lives, if\r\n necessary, to further the interests of our cause.\"\r\n\r\n \"How fervently I should have wished to see their great work\r\n crowned with a well-deserved reward!\"\r\n\r\n \"He who rules the destinies of nations decreed it otherwise,\r\n however, and we must bow in resignation to His will, but,\r\n faithful women and girls of South Africa, rest assured that your\r\n noble work and self-sacrifice have not been in vain. For myself\r\n I find in that which was performed by you this great abiding\r\n comfort, that so long as South Africa possesses women and girls\r\n of your stamp, so long can we go forward to meet the future\r\n hopefully and cheerfully; so long as the spirit, nourished by\r\n you, still lives and thrives in our midst, so long may we pursue\r\n our way fearlessly.\"\r\n\r\n \"The struggle is over, brought to an end more than a year ago,\r\n and some of us have already learnt to adapt ourselves to our\r\n altered circumstances. We have been taught by those whose\r\n position, as leaders of the people, gives them the fullest right\r\n thereto, how to conduct ourselves, and we require no further\r\n encouragement to follow that advice.\"\r\n\r\n \"But we feel that we cannot lay sufficient emphasis on the\r\n injunction to be true to one another as a nation, to be true to\r\n our traditions of the past, true to the lessons we have learnt\r\n in the recent conflict.\"\r\n\r\n \"We have seen to what a pass one can be brought by infidelity.\"\r\n\r\n \"Let us in future live in such a way that nothing may be lost of\r\n the honour which is our inheritance from the battle-fields of\r\n South Africa.\"\r\n\r\n \"Farewell.\"\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nCHAPTER XL\r\n\r\nPEACE, PEACE--AND THERE IS NO PEACE!\r\n\r\n\r\nIf I may dare to hope that there are, among my readers who have\r\nfollowed me with so much patience through this book, some sufficiently\r\ninterested in the heroine to desire information on what befell her in\r\nher future lot, I should wish to give to them just a glimpse or two\r\ninto scenes as totally different from the events recorded in this\r\nvolume as night is from day. And to do this freely, unreservedly, I\r\nmust endeavour to forget my close connection with the heroine, a\r\nconnection the thought of which has hampered and restricted me, from\r\nfirst to last, in choosing and rewriting the material from her diary.\r\n\r\nHer diary, as I have said before, had ended soon after her last\r\nadventure with the spies, never to be resumed again.\r\n\r\nI do not, however, write from memory in this brief chapter on her\r\nsubsequent experiences, for I have before me for reference a pile of\r\nletters from her to her mother.\r\n\r\nAlmost her last word when she left her native land was an injunction\r\nto her mother to preserve her letters for the future,--\"for when I am\r\nmarried, mother dear, _you_ will be my diary.\"\r\n\r\nHansie's health gave way.\r\n\r\nNot in a week or a month, not in any way perceptible to those around\r\nher, but stealthily, treacherously, and relentlessly the fine\r\nconstitution was undermined, the highly strung nervous system was\r\nshattered. This had taken place chiefly during the desolate and dark\r\nhours of the night, when, helpless in the grip of the fiend Insomnia,\r\nthe wretched girl abandoned herself to hopelessness and despair.\r\n\r\nAnd the time was soon to come when she feared those dreadful waking\r\nhours even less than the brief moments of fitful slumber which\r\novercame her worn-out, shattered frame, for no sooner did she lose her\r\nconsciousness in sleep than she was overpowered by some hideous\r\nnightmare, and found herself, shrieking, drowning in the black waters\r\nof some raging torrent, or pursued by some infuriated lunatic or\r\nmurderer, or enveloped in the deadly coils of some hideous reptile.\r\n\r\nShuddering from head to foot after each of these most awful realities\r\nof the night, she was soothed and comforted by the tender hands of her\r\ndistressed and anxious mother.\r\n\r\nSomething had to be done, of that there was no doubt. Not even the\r\nstrongest mind could have endured such a strain for any length of\r\ntime, and that Hansie's reason was preserved at all I put down to the\r\nfact that she had never once throughout the war entertained the idea,\r\nthe possibility, of the loss of her country's independence.\r\n\r\nThe blow, when it came, found her so far from the scenes of her recent\r\nsufferings, as we shall see presently, that she was able to endure it,\r\nas one, far removed from the death-bed of her best beloved, is spared\r\nthe crushing details, the cruel realities of that last parting scene.\r\n\r\nThe thought of the strong heart across the seas, waiting to receive\r\nher, would have been of more support to her in those days had she\r\nknown by experience what it _could_ mean to a woman, tried as she had\r\nbeen, to place herself and all her grief in the protecting,\r\nunderstanding love of a good and noble man.\r\n\r\nBut even this comfort was denied to her; in fact, the thought of her\r\nuncertain future, and her fear that the step she was about to take\r\nmight prove to be a great mistake in her abnormal condition, were an\r\nadded burden to our sorely tried and now completely broken-down\r\npatriot.\r\n\r\nPlans were made to send her out of the country.\r\n\r\nHer sister, Mrs. Cloete, who had for some months been trying to\r\nprocure a permit to visit the Transvaal, was, after great trouble and\r\ninconvenience, successful in her endeavours and arrived at Harmony on\r\nSaturday, March 29th, 1902.\r\n\r\nWhat words from my poor pen can describe the emotions of _that_\r\nmeeting?\r\n\r\nEven Hansie's diary has nothing to say except \"let us draw the veil,\"\r\nbut memory is strong and the bands of love and kinship are\r\nunbreakable, even under the adversities of long and bitter years--nay,\r\nrather are they strengthened by the threads of common woe, woven into\r\ntheir very fibre at such a time of bitter trial.\r\n\r\nThe mother spent hours with her elder daughter, happy beyond power to\r\nexpress, relating her experiences and adventures, comparing notes and\r\nmaking plans for their future.\r\n\r\nAll that month of April was filled with rumours of an early peace, and\r\nhopes were buoyed up with the certainty that \"peace with honour\" would\r\nand could be the only termination to the peace conferences. Incredible\r\nas it may seem to some of my readers, the Boer opinion was that\r\nEngland was about to end hostilities and that, under certain terms,\r\nthe independence of the two Republics would be assured.\r\n\r\nNo reliable information reached our friends at Harmony, for the\r\nactivities of the Secret Service had ceased entirely--at least, as far\r\nas the town was concerned.\r\n\r\nUncertainty, excitement, expectation filled the air, reaching their\r\nheight on April 12th, when the news of the Boer leaders' arrival at\r\nthe capital spread like wild-fire through the town.\r\n\r\nSteyn, Botha, de Wet, de la Rey, Reitz, and a host of others were\r\namongst \"their own\" again, under circumstances of unique importance.\r\nThey were not allowed to mix freely with the crowd, but kept in a\r\nstate of highly honoured captivity in the beautiful double-storied\r\nhouse known as \"Parkzicht,\" opposite Burghers Park, well guarded night\r\nand day by armed patrols, who kept the crowd at bay with a friendly\r\n\"Move on, please,\" when they touched the limit of their beat.\r\n\r\nMrs. van Warmelo and her two daughters, like so many other\r\ncitizenesses, lost no opportunity of walking in the neighbourhood of\r\n\"Parkzicht,\" and they were fortunate beyond their wildest hopes in\r\nbeing greeted by the Generals on more than one occasion.\r\n\r\nOne day as they were passing they observed the familiar figure of\r\nGeneral Botha on the balcony.\r\n\r\nThey waved their handkerchiefs and there was no doubt about his\r\nrecognition, for he took off his hat and waved it, kissing both his\r\nhands to them.\r\n\r\n(General Botha it was who, after the war, said to Mrs. van Warmelo,\r\nclasping her hand and looking earnestly into her eyes:\r\n\r\n\"You have done and risked what even I would not have dared.\")\r\n\r\nAfter six or seven days in Pretoria the Boer leaders left for their\r\ncommandos, to deliberate, with what result Hansie did not know until\r\nnearly two months later in mid-ocean, where at a distant isle the news\r\nof the declaration of peace was made known to her.\r\n\r\nThe three women at Harmony now turned their thoughts into another\r\nchannel.\r\n\r\nThe mother being far from well herself, arrangements had to be made to\r\nleave her in the companionship of some suitable and congenial woman,\r\nuntil her \"boys\" came home--one from the front, if he were still\r\nalive, the other from captivity. A girl friend offered to take\r\nHansie's place at Harmony and promised not to leave Mrs. van Warmelo\r\nuntil the country was in a settled state again.\r\n\r\nThis was Hansie's only crumb of consolation during those last days at\r\nhome.\r\n\r\nMany difficulties were made about her permits when she applied for\r\nleave to go to Holland, and many were the questions asked, her\r\ninterview with General Maxwell being the least unsatisfactory when she\r\ntold him of her approaching marriage.\r\n\r\n\"You may go with pleasure,\" he had said; but a few days afterwards\r\nHansie received a letter from the Provost-Marshal, saying that \"the\r\npresent regulations do not allow burghers or their families to leave\r\nSouth Africa.\"\r\n\r\nHansie wrote to Lord Kitchener, but received no reply, and it was\r\nnearly the middle of May, after some weeks of uncertainty, harder far\r\nto bear than trouble of a more decided character, when she and Mrs.\r\nCloete left the capital for Cape Colony.\r\n\r\nHansie's last words in her diary are:\r\n\r\n\"There is quite a history connected with the procuring of my permits,\r\nwhich I shall relate another time. _I am too tired now._\"\r\n\r\nWords significant of what the girl had endured in parting from her\r\nmother and leaving her beloved country at a time so critical!\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nOn an ocean-steamer she found herself at last--alone, for in that\r\ncrowd there was no face familiar to her to be seen.\r\n\r\nShe mixed freely with the crowd; she sought, in the games with which\r\nthese voyages usually are passed, to forget--to forget; but the nights\r\nof sleeplessness remained--her waking terror, with which she was\r\nconsumed.\r\n\r\nTwo men there were who proved sympathetic, one a Scotchman, the other\r\nan Englishman--both anti-Boer and sadly misinformed when first she met\r\nthem, both \"converts\" by the time they reached their native shores.\r\n\r\nSitting at table she listened intently to the conversations on the\r\nwar--the war, the never-ending war. On no occasion did she breathe a\r\nword of what _she_ knew, of what _she_ felt, until one day at dinner\r\na young English lieutenant, \"covered with glory\" and returning home a\r\nhero of the war, enlarged on the services rendered by one brave\r\nofficer, well known by name to Hansie.\r\n\r\n\"It is not only what he achieved with so much success in the field,\"\r\nhe continued. \"I am thinking now of those two years he spent in the\r\nPretoria Forts _before_ the war, as a common labourer, doing menial\r\nwork with other men, and secretly making plans and drawing charts of\r\nthe Pretoria fortifications. Every detail was made known to our\r\nmilitary before we went to war.\"\r\n\r\nExclamations of surprise, a murmur of admiration, ran along the table.\r\n\r\nHansie waited until there was a lull, and then she asked:\r\n\r\n\"The work carried out by him, was it done under oath of allegiance to\r\nthe Transvaal Government?\"\r\n\r\nThere was one moment's painful silence before the young lieutenant\r\nanswered, with a laugh:\r\n\r\n\"Of course; it could not possibly have been done otherwise--but all is\r\nfair in love and war.\"\r\n\r\n\"War?\" Hansie exclaimed--\"I thought you said that this was done some\r\nyears _before_ the war.\"\r\n\r\n\"Yes, but we all knew what things were leading to!\"\r\n\r\nThis incident was the first hint among the passengers that she was not\r\none of them.\r\n\r\nAt first they looked at her askance, but as the days went on and the\r\ngirl steadfastly avoided every allusion to the war, refusing to\r\nexpress her opinions to any one, except the two men mentioned above,\r\nthe feeling of discomfort passed, and she was once again included in\r\nthe pastimes of the ship's company.\r\n\r\nAs they were nearing Teneriffe the longing for news, for the latest\r\ncables from England and South Africa, possessed every soul on\r\nboard--and now I find that, search as I will, within the recesses of\r\nmy mind, for words with which to describe adequately such scenes,\r\nbrain and hand are powerless.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nThere was peace in South Africa--peace \"with honour\" for England,\r\npeace _and defeat_ for the Boers!\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nIn a moment the ship's crew went mad, as the wild cheering rolled over\r\nthe waves.\r\n\r\nHansie stood stupefied until (and strange it is that at a time like\r\nthis an insignificant detail should stand out in sharp relief against\r\nthe background of her dulled sensibilities) an hysterical woman ran up\r\nto her with outstretched hands, crying:\r\n\r\n\"Oh, my dear, my dear, let me congratulate you! Let us shake hands!\"\r\n\r\nThe girl, thus taken by surprise in all that crowd, recoiled in\r\nshuddering distress, while, with hands clasped convulsively behind,\r\nshe murmured:\r\n\r\n\"Oh, I _could not_--I _could not_!\"\r\n\r\nA wave of deep resentment passed over the ship's passengers, and\r\nhostile eyes looked on her frowningly.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nThat night, as the good ship was ploughing the waters on her way once\r\nmore, a solitary figure stood on the deserted decks.\r\n\r\nIn the saloons great bumpers of champagne were passing round, while\r\nthe strains of \"God save the King\" and \"Rule Britannia\" floated over\r\nthe ocean waves.\r\n\r\nA man in search of her, fearing perhaps, I know not what, approached\r\nthe drooping figure of the girl, and pressed her hand in silent\r\nsympathy.\r\n\r\n\"There is no peace!\" she said. \"Do you think I believe these lying\r\ncables? The Boers will _never_ yield. If you knew what I know, you\r\nwould take these reports for what they are worth. I have been trying\r\nto think what it all can mean, and this is the conclusion I have come\r\nto. If it be true that peace has been proclaimed, then the Boers have\r\npreserved their independence, and this last fact has been excluded\r\nfrom the cables in view of the approaching Coronation. But my own\r\nconviction is that there is no peace at all, but that these cables\r\nhave been sent to reassure the English public, and to make it possible\r\nto celebrate the crowning of the King in a splendour unclouded by the\r\nhorrors of the South African war. Believe me, when the Coronation is\r\nover you will hear of a mysterious renewal of hostilities.\"\r\n\r\nThe man was silent, troubled. He had not the heart to argue with the\r\ngirl, perhaps he thought, and rightly thought, that this strange\r\nillusion of the brain, this confident belief in her own convictions,\r\nwould help to tide her over the first days to follow.\r\n\r\n\"I cannot understand,\" he said, \"how Mrs. ---- could have asked you to\r\nshake hands with her.\"\r\n\r\n\"Oh, I was wrong,\" Hansie said. \"She meant it kindly. How could _she_\r\nunderstand? I will apologise--to-morrow.\"\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nIt had been arranged that Hansie should spend a few days in London to\r\nsee some friends before proceeding to Holland.\r\n\r\nShe found the mighty metropolis in the throes of preparation for an\r\nevent of unparalleled magnificence.\r\n\r\nEvery sign of splendour and rejoicing was a fresh sword through the\r\nheart of our sorely tried young patriot.\r\n\r\nThe people with whom she stayed, old Pretoria friends, had not an\r\ninkling of what was passing in her mind.\r\n\r\nTheir warm and loving greetings, their loud expressions of delight\r\nthat the war had come to an end at last, were so many pangs added to\r\nher grief.\r\n\r\n\"You will come with us to the Coronation?\" her hostess said; \"we have\r\nsplendid reserved seats, and this event will be unparalleled in the\r\nhistory of England.\"\r\n\r\nAgain the unfortunate girl found herself recoiling, taken by surprise;\r\nagain she said:\r\n\r\n\"Oh, I _could not_! Not to save my life!\"\r\n\r\n\"Not go to see the Coronation! I am surprised at you. Very few South\r\nAfrican girls are lucky enough to benefit by such an opportunity. I\r\nmust say I think it very narrow-minded of you. You disappoint me. The\r\nwar is over now, and while we are all trying to promote a feeling of\r\ngood-fellowship you nourish such an unworthy and narrow-minded\r\nspirit.\"\r\n\r\nNarrow-minded, unworthy!\r\n\r\nThe iron entered deep into her soul; and when she looks back now and\r\ntakes a brief survey of what she suffered throughout those years, that\r\nmoment stands out as one into which all the fears, the hopes, the\r\nagonies of one short lifetime had been crowded.\r\n\r\nSometimes the human heart, when tried beyond endurance, will reach a\r\npoint where but a trifling incident, an unkind word, is needed to\r\nbreak down life's stronghold.\r\n\r\nThis point our heroine had reached.\r\n\r\nSomething passed out of her soul, an undefinable something of which\r\nthe zest for life is made, and as she felt the black waters of despair\r\nclosing over her she almost gasped for breath.\r\n\r\nShe turned away.\r\n\r\n\"You will never understand. I think it very kind of you to make such\r\nplans for my enjoyment, but--to the Coronation of the English King I\r\n_will not go_. Leave me here--I have some writing to do--no need to be\r\ndistressed on my account. My one regret is that my presence here, at\r\nsuch a time, should be a source of so much painfulness to us both.\"\r\n\r\nWith cold courtesy the subject of the approaching Coronation was\r\ndropped, until the next day, when the appalling, the stupefying news\r\nof the postponement of the Coronation spread through the hushed\r\nstreets of the great metropolis.\r\n\r\nThe King was dying, was perhaps already dead. The King had undergone a\r\ncritical operation and his life still hung in the balance.\r\n\r\nThe King could not be crowned.\r\n\r\nAlready the black wings of Death seemed to be stretched over the\r\nmighty city, with its millions and millions of inhabitants. The\r\nmultitude was waiting in hushed expectancy, in breathless suspense.\r\n\r\nHansie, walking through the streets with one of the men whose\r\nsympathy on board had been of such unspeakable comfort to her, never\r\nfelt more unreal in her life. Her mind was in a maze, she groped about\r\nfor words with which to clothe her thoughts, but groped in vain, for\r\neven the power of thought had been suspended for a time.\r\n\r\nHer companion, glancing at her face, asked suddenly, curiously:\r\n\r\n\"Would you be glad if King Edward were to die?\"\r\n\r\nThere was a long pause, while the girl strove to analyse her feelings.\r\n\r\nAt last she answered slowly, simply, truthfully:\r\n\r\n\"No; I would be sorry.\"\r\n\r\nAnd in these words, good reader, when I think of them, I find a\r\ncertain solution to the problem of her behaviour on many occasions\r\nwhen brought into close contact with her country's enemies.\r\n\r\nThere was never anything personal in the most bitter feelings of\r\nresentment and hatred of her country's foes, and never at any time did\r\nshe belong to the ranks of those among her fellow-patriots who deemed\r\nit an unpardonable crime to recognise and appreciate the good\r\nqualities possessed by them.\r\n\r\nA love of fair-play characterised her, even as a child, and it is\r\ncertain that the cruel circumstances of the war developed this sense\r\nof justice to an abnormal extent, often bringing upon her, in later\r\nyears, misunderstanding and distrust from those who should have been\r\nher friends.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nIt is June 28th, a glorious, cloudless summer's morn.\r\n\r\nSpeeding swiftly, almost silently, cutting its way through the calm,\r\nblue waters of the English Channel, a passenger-boat is fast\r\napproaching Holland's shores.\r\n\r\nThe hour is early, and of the few figures moving on the pier, one\r\nstands apart, watching intently, as the ship draws near.\r\n\r\nHe waves his hat, he has recognised the figure of the girl who stands\r\non deck and waves her handkerchief in response to his greeting.\r\n\r\nHis strong hand clasps hers; and now the discreet reader need not\r\navert his eyes--no need here to \"draw the veil\"--for Hansie had\r\nwritten from London to this tall, broad-shouldered man:\r\n\r\n\"What is left of me is coming to you now, but we must meet as\r\n_friendly acquaintances_, until we are both certain of ourselves.\"\r\n\r\nHow long this \"friendly acquaintance\" lasted it is difficult to say,\r\nfor there is a difference of opinion on the point.\r\n\r\n_She_ says, not less than sixty minutes.\r\n\r\n_He_ asserts, not more than thirty-five!\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nThe exquisite serenity of her father's native land, especially on such\r\na perfect day in midsummer, had never seemed to her so sweet.\r\n\r\nHere, indeed, she felt that peace _could_ come to her at last.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nBut not yet--not yet.\r\n\r\nStrong emotions of a different kind awaited her, the meeting of\r\nbeloved friends and relatives, after seemingly endless years of pain,\r\nproving no less trying than the introduction to a large circle of\r\n_future_ relatives and friends.\r\n\r\nHansie had to be \"lionised\" as heroine of the war, and this was done\r\nin a whole-hearted, generous way which was a constant source of wonder\r\nto her.\r\n\r\nShe was \"carried on the hands,\" as the Dutch saying goes, by all who\r\nhad the remotest claim on her.\r\n\r\nFunctions were arranged for her, receptions held, to which\r\nwhite-haired women and stately venerable men came from far to shake\r\nher hand, because she was a daughter of the Transvaal, nothing\r\nmore--not because of what she had done and endured, for this was known\r\nto only one or two.\r\n\r\nOld friends from South Africa there were in scores, and for the time\r\nthe State of Holland was transformed into a colony of Boers, which\r\nseemed complete when the Boer leaders, Botha, de Wet, and de la Rey,\r\narrived with their staffs. Then it seemed as if the people of Holland\r\nlost their heads entirely, and scenes such as those which took place\r\ndaily in the streets are never to be forgotten by those who witnessed\r\nthem.\r\n\r\nAll this, though wonderful, was not the best thing for our heroine,\r\nwho was \"living on her nerves,\" though in a different way, as surely\r\nas she did during those cruel years of war.\r\n\r\nAdded to this she was frequently tried beyond endurance by the\r\nquestions:\r\n\r\n\"Why did the Boers give in? How _could_ the Boers give in and lose\r\ntheir independence?\"\r\n\r\nOne conversation in particular was burnt into her brain.\r\n\r\n\"Was it the Concentration Camps?\"\r\n\r\n\"No,\" the answer came slowly, \"no, it was not the Concentration Camps.\r\nThe high mortality was past, the weakest had been taken, and there\r\nwas no cause for anxiety for those remaining in the Camps. Their\r\nrations had been increased and improved--there was no more of that\r\nfirst awful suffering.\"\r\n\r\n\"What was it, then? The arming of the natives?\"\r\n\r\nThe answer came more slowly:\r\n\r\n\"No, it was not the arming of the natives. Their forces were more\r\nscattered, for they were chiefly employed in guarding the railway\r\nlines, in protecting stock and guarding block-houses. Though their\r\naddition to the British ranks undoubtedly weakened our strength to\r\nsome extent, their inborn respect for the Boer would have prevented\r\nthem from ever rendering valuable services to the English. How we\r\nlaughed, my sister and I, when, on the railway journey from Pretoria\r\nto Cape Town, we saw the line patrolled by hundreds of these natives,\r\nwith gun in hand, stark naked except for a loin-cloth and a bandolier!\r\nSo much waste of ammunition! No, the arming of the natives would have\r\nbeen the last thing to induce the Boers to surrender.\"\r\n\r\n\"Then it seems to me incomprehensible! surely death were preferable to\r\ndefeat!\"\r\n\r\n\"Yes, a thousand times; but you forget the National Scouts--the\r\nJudas-Boers. _They_ broke our strength. Not by their skill in the use\r\nof arms, not by their knowledge of our country and our methods--no!\"\r\n\r\n\"They broke our strength by breaking our ideals, by crushing our\r\nenthusiasm, by robbing us of our inspiration, our faith, our hope----\"\r\n\r\nWith averted eyes, and seemingly groping for one last ray of light,\r\nthe man continued:\r\n\r\n\"But where were your heroes--your heroes of Magersfontein, Spion Kop,\r\nand Colenso?\"\r\n\r\n\"Where were our heroes?\" the girl echoed bitterly. \"In their\r\ngraves--in our hospitals--in captivity! Ever foremost in the\r\nfield--one--by one--they fell---- 'But the remnant that is escaped of\r\nthe house of Israel shall again take root downward and bear fruit\r\nupward.'\r\n\r\n\"Although, under the shadow of this great national calamity, we cannot\r\nsee it now, there is hope for our sad South Africa. It is too soon to\r\nspeak of a united race, but the time will surely come when, in the\r\ninter-marriage of our children and our children's children, will be\r\nformed a nation great and strong and purified.\"\r\n\r\nThrough all those weeks our heroine never slept. It seems incredible\r\nthat the frail form of a girl should be endowed with so great a power\r\nof endurance, and that the human mind can stand the strain of smiling\r\nself-control by day, abandonment of grief by night.\r\n\r\nThose nearest to her, divining something of what she was passing\r\nthrough, lavished countless proofs of tender sympathy on her,\r\ninnumerable acts of loving care for her personal comfort, and\r\nwell-thought-out plans for drawing her away from herself into the\r\ncharmed circle of the B---- Labouchere house.\r\n\r\nAnd when her marriage-day drew near she turned away with a superficial\r\nglance at the array of costly presents, to devour once again the\r\ncables from South Africa, the telegrams from her Generals, the letter\r\nand the photograph of her beloved President, inscribed in his\r\nillegible hand, \"For services rendered during the late war.\"\r\n\r\nLast, but not least, there came to her official-looking documents\r\nfrom Het Loo, the personal congratulations of the Queen, the Prince\r\nConsort, and the Queen-mother--and the ancient blood of Holland\r\ncoursed more swiftly through her veins as she thought of Wilhelmina,\r\nthe dauntless young Queen of the Netherlands, now _her_ Queen.\r\n\r\nIn all the ranks of the \"Petticoat Commando\" there was not one woman\r\nwho had dared more, risked more, than the brave Queen of Holland when\r\nshe dispatched her good man-of-war to bear away from the shores of\r\nAfrica the hunted President of the South African Republic, to the\r\nrefuge of her hospitable land.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nFlowers, flowers everywhere, first in baskets, then in cartloads, then\r\nin waggon-loads, they were deposited at the doors until they\r\noverflowed from the reception-rooms into the halls and staircases, and\r\neven the verandahs--chrysanthemums and roses in riotous profusion,\r\nnestling violets, rarest orchids, bright carnations, heavy with the\r\nrichest perfume.\r\n\r\nEach flower had a separate message for the bride. They understood, and\r\nthey enveloped her with their unspoken sympathy.\r\n\r\nSome there were adorned with her beloved, her most tragic \"Vierkleur,\"\r\nand over them she lingered long, breathing a prayer to merciful Heaven\r\nto still her beating heart for ever.\r\n\r\nNot in the wild beauty of the Swiss scenery did she find rest, not by\r\nthe calm lakes of sapphire blue in which she saw reflected the rugged\r\nmountains, soul-satisfying in their majestic grandeur, not in the\r\nsoundless, the mysterious regions of the eternal snows--but in the\r\nnorth of Holland, where she found herself when autumn fell, Hansie\r\nslept.\r\n\r\nLanguid and more languid she became; drooping visibly, she sank into\r\noblivion in that northern village home, conscious only in her waking\r\nhours of the cold, the driving sleet, the howling wind, the ceaseless\r\ndrip, drip of the swaying trees.\r\n\r\nAs the long winter months crept by, her sleep became more and more\r\nprofound, less haunted by the hideous nightmares of the past, and\r\nthough she at first rebelled, ashamed of her growing weakness, she was\r\nsoon forced to yield to the resistless demands of outraged nature.\r\n\r\nIn this she was supported by her husband, who, unknown to her, was\r\nacting on the advice of the famous nerve-specialist who had watched\r\nher unobserved.\r\n\r\n\"Let her sleep, if need be for a year, and in the end you will find\r\nher normal and restored, of that I am convinced,\" he had said; and in\r\nthese words her husband found his greatest comfort, as he tucked his\r\nlittle dormouse in and tip-toed from the darkened room.\r\n\r\nHansie lost count of time, but there were two days in the week of\r\nwhich she was quite sure--the day on which the South African mail\r\nreached her and the day on which it was dispatched. In between she\r\nslept, as we have seen, but when she woke she always knew that her\r\nenfranchised spirit had been to her native land.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nA full year had gone by, fifteen months, and when the first breath of\r\nwinter once more touched the land she gradually became aware of\r\nvoices calling to her, insistent, imperative voices from across the\r\nseas.\r\n\r\n\"I must go,\" she said. \"What am I doing here? South Africa is calling.\r\nMy people want me there. You and I must go. There is a great work for\r\nus both.\" And he, no less ardent and enthusiastic, yielded to her\r\nprayers, bade farewell to home and fatherland, sailed away with her to\r\nthe unknown.\r\n\r\n\"In all the world,\" she said, \"there is no pain to be compared with\r\nthe pain of being born a patriot; but a patriot in _exile_--may Heaven\r\nprotect me from the tragedy of such a fate!\"\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nCONCLUSION\r\n\r\n\r\nThe veil is lifted for one last brief glimpse.\r\n\r\nTen years have gone by since the declaration of peace, ten years each\r\nmore wonderful than the last, full to overflowing of life's rich\r\nexperience of joy and grief.\r\n\r\nBy some strange turn in the hand of Destiny, our heroine finds\r\nherself, after many vicissitudes, an inhabitant of the Golden\r\nCity--that Golden City which had wrecked her youth and very nearly\r\nwrecked her life.\r\n\r\nFor years it has seemed incredible to her that she should have been\r\ndestined for the position she now holds, a position of so much trust,\r\nso difficult, so critical.\r\n\r\nA plaything in the hand of Fate, she thought at first, when looking\r\nfrom her balcony she saw the Golden City, with its extensive suburbs\r\nstretched out at her feet, and heard the distant, never-ceasing roar\r\nof the innumerable mine-batteries of the Rand. But the resistless hand\r\nof Fate was drawing her into the sphere of work for which she longed\r\nmost ardently--woman's work, at home, abroad--and the glamour of\r\nJohannesburg stole over her in time.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nThe terms of peace have been fulfilled, responsible government for the\r\nTransvaal and Free State, and Hansie thinks with an intolerable pain\r\nof that day at Teneriffe. Had she but known--had she but known--but\r\nthe cables (she had called them \"lying cables\" then, and she was not\r\nfar wrong) had spoken only of a glorious victory for the English and\r\nunconditional surrender on the part of the Boers. No word about the\r\nterms, the _only_ terms on which the Boers would ever have yielded\r\ntheir independence.\r\n\r\nResponsible government has been followed by the Union of the South\r\nAfrican provinces.\r\n\r\nSouth Africa is united _in name_, if not yet in reality, but the time\r\nwill surely come, as we have said before, when, under the softening\r\ninfluence of time, a great united race will be born.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nClosely pressing around Hansie as she writes are eager little faces,\r\nreverent little fingers touching the scattered pages before her, brave\r\neyes of blue and brown, looking wonderingly into hers.\r\n\r\n\"Writing a book, mother? About the spies? And the lemon-juice? Oh,\r\nmother, what will the English say?\"\r\n\r\nAnd the accents falling on her ear are in the expressive sweetness of\r\nthe South African Dutch, in its most cultured form.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nHansie ought to be a happy woman. None of the joys of life have been\r\nwithheld from her, and yet--and yet----\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n_Printed by Hazell, Watson & Viney, Ld., London and Aylesbury._\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n +-----------------------------------------------------------+\r\n | Typographical errors corrected in text: |\r\n | |\r\n | Page 100: 'unkemp hair wast' replaced with |\r\n | 'unkempt hair was' |\r\n | Page 222: rovolver replaced with revolver |\r\n | |\r\n +-----------------------------------------------------------+\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PETTICOAT COMMANDO: BOER WOMEN IN SECRET SERVICE ***\r\n\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nUpdated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will\r\nbe renamed.\r\n\r\nCreating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright\r\nlaw means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works,\r\nso the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United\r\nStates without permission and without paying copyright\r\nroyalties. 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Each phrase corrected is one the ARCHIVE wrote, replaced whole; no word supplied by a source was touched.","changed_by":"archive-ingest 0.1.0","recorded_at":"2026-09-13T20:23:25.466571Z","version":2},{"change_note":"accessioned from Project Gutenberg, ebook 20194","changed_by":"archive-ingest 0.1.0","recorded_at":"2026-09-05T12:12:13.552796Z","version":1}]}