The Boer wars 1881, 1898 to 1903

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looked me up and down, and remarked that I was too "big and heavy," and all my hopes were dashed to the ground. We congratulated those whom we thought were the fortunate ones, and hoped for better luck ourselves should another contingent be required. As time went on, and reports came to hand of hard fighting and much tougher work than had been anticipated, I got more tired than ever of barrack-room soldiering, and hankered for something more real and exciting. Another call was made, another contingent was to be sent; my prospects began to brighten, but only two men were selected from the R.A.A., two quartermaster-sergeants. With the third contingent no opportunity was given to me to join. Shortly after a fourth contingent was raised, to be known as the Australian Imperial Regiment. The qualifications for the Regiment were bush experience, and that every man should be able to ride and shoot. The "machines," or the men who could merely drill and move their arms and feet as though they were worked on wire, without having the above qualifications, had no place in this contingent. I was among the successful applicants from the R.A.A., as I had been born in the bush, could ride almost as soon as I could walk, and had learned to shoot almost as soon as I learned anything. My actual military experience was gained during the twelve months I was with the R.A.A. As soon as selected, I, with my comrades, was sent to the Victoria Barracks, Melbourne, for examination and tests. While there it was my duty to assist at the Mounted Police Depot, receiving, breaking, branding, and trucking remounts prior to sending them into camp at Langwarrin, also attending with horses at the Domain for the riding test. This riding test seemed to be looked upon by the general public as a kind of circus, and was attended daily by thousands of spectators. The track was about half a mile round, and the test was to commence at a trot, break into a gallop, and negotiate three jumps. A man could judge fairly his chance of success by the applause or "barracking" as he passed the crowd. There were many good horsemen among the recruits, men who could ride anything anywhere, and not a few who could rarely have seen a horse, much less have ridden it over a jump. One little recruit, with a very theatrical appearance, known by the sobriquet of "Bland Holt," had a great struggle to get his halter on his horse, and when it came to putting on the bridle, which was one of the Mounted Police pattern, and rather a complicated piece of harness to a new chum, he got terribly tangled up. After about ten minutes struggling, panting, perspiring, and much whoo-whoaing, he succeeded in hanging the bridle on with the bit over the horse's ears. At this stage an Artilleryman went to his rescue and saddled his horse for him. When his turn came to ride, he led his horse before the examining officer, and with much difficulty succeeded in climbing into the saddle, and started off at a walk. "Trot!" shouted the officer. The horse quickened its pace, and "Bland Holt" and his hopes of doing yeoman service for the Empire fell to the ground. This was one of many similar incidents which took place during the fortnight the riding test lasted. About the end of March, 1900, I received orders to go into camp at Langwarrin. During the encampment there I acted as assistant to Camp Quartermaster-Sergeant Creaney, of the Hastings Battery. My duties were principally to requisition for rations and forage, and furnish returns to headquarters of any lost or worn-out equipment. On 3rd April I received my first promotion, and was made lance-corporal, and posted to the squadron under Captain J. Dallimore. This officer was very highly esteemed by all, and for bravery during the war he was promoted to the rank of major, and earned the D.S.O. While I was at Portland Prison, some years later, I learned, with the deepest regret, that the major had

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been accidentally drowned while fishing at Warrnambool shortly after his return to Australia. Things went on apace in camp. The equipment department worked night and day transforming the civilian recruit into the puttied khaki soldier. Camp life was very pleasant at Langwarrin, for our friends used to come by the score, and bring well-filled hampers to picnic with us, and at night a large camp fire would be lighted and a concert held, while there was no fear of the enemy coming upon us unawares. On Sunday we were besieged by thousands of visitors, who begged earnestly from the soldiers a button or badge or some little keepsake as a memento. I myself was the recipient of several new coins, of coins with holes in them and battered halfpennies, which I was informed by the givers would bring me good luck. I am afraid I was born under an unlucky star, for if there is such a thing as luck, it did not come my way. I also received a presentation from a few of my old friends of a very nice silver-mounted letter wallet, with fountain pen and all the material necessary for a war correspondent, in order, doubtless, to keep them posted up with my experiences and doings and the number of Dutchmen I succeeded in despatching. The time passed very pleasantly, but there was another side to this--it rained in torrents for several days without ceasing, and the camp and horse lines became a veritable quagmire. It was then decided to move the camp and transfer the troops to the show-ground at Flemington. It was a memorable "trek" when we moved out for Flemington in the pouring rain; it damped the ardour of many a "contingenter," and numbers "handed in their kits." I was sent on with a fatigue party to prepare rations and forage for the rain-soaked troops and horses. But this was only for a few days; we had scarcely settled down when we were moved again to Langwarrin, and by the end of April all was in readiness for embarkation. Lieut.-Colonel Kelly, of the Victorian Field Artillery, had been selected to command the regiment. We left Langwarrin in full marching order about midday on 28th April and reached Mentone, where we bivouacked. In the morning my horse's nosebag was missing, but I found it some months later on the South African veldt. We arrived in Melbourne about noon on 29th April, and expected to embark the same afternoon on the transport "Victorian," lying at the Port Melbourne pier. Through some hitch, the boat was not ready to receive us, and we were again quartered at the show-ground at Flemington. On Tuesday, 1st May, we broke up camp. It was a glorious and never-to-be-forgotten day, and our march through the city was signalised by an unparalleled demonstration of popular applause. The streets were packed, and in places the troops could only pass in single file. Handkerchiefs, sweets, and all kinds of good things were pressed upon us as we passed through the crowd. On arrival at the pier, the work of embarking the horses was at once commenced, and over 700 were shipped and stalled in less than four hours. Getting the troops on board was a more difficult matter, as there was so much leave-taking and so many good-byes to say. The boat was cleared of visitors and put off from the pier, anchoring for the night opposite Williamstown. All on board was confusion and bustle, and many of the crew had been having a jolly time and were incapable of performing their duties. We got nothing that night in the shape of rations; fortunately we had our haversacks to fall back on, which provided sufficient for the day. Later on hammocks were brought out and slung. It was a new experience for me to sleep in one, and I fancy I must have slung mine too slack, for when I got into it my head and my feet almost touched, and I think I must have resembled a mammoth wood-grub in repose. We weighed anchor about 7 a.m. on Wednesday morning, and passed the heads about 11 a.m. I saw many of my old Queenscliff comrades signalling and gesticulating from the forts as we passed through the Rip. The pilot was next put off, and we were soon under way in earnest for South Africa. Cape Otway was the last glimpse we had of the home land, and owing to the "Victorian" keeping well out to sea, no more land was sighted until we were off the coast of Madagascar. As this was my first experience of a sea voyage, I fully expected that a bout of sea-sickness would be part of the programme, but such was not the case as far as I was concerned, and when I saw scores of my comrades hanging limply over the side and lying like dead men about the deck, I congratulated myself in the words of the Pharisee, "Thank God I am not as other men are." Everything on board was soon got into ship-shape order, and we lived fairly well. A large quantity of fruit and butter bad been sent on board as a gift for the use of the troops, and was greatly appreciated as a welcome addition to the bill of fare. My duties were to assist the regimental quartermaster-sergeant, and superintend the distribution of the horse feed. This was stowed in the hold, hoisted up daily, and portioned out to the different squadrons. The horses were a splendid lot, and stood the voyage remarkably well, only one dying during the trip. When about three days at sea a batch of stowaways made their appearance; they looked a motley and grimy crowd as they emerged from the coal bunkers. They were paraded before the ship's captain, who put them to work on the coal for the remainder of the voyage. On arrival at Beira they joined the Mashonaland Mounted Police. A little later we were paraded before the medical officers and vaccinated; it affected some very badly, and for a time they were quite incapable of doing any duty. After about five days out I was agreeably surprised when I was informed that I had been promoted to the rank of sergeant. I was put in charge of a squad to instil into them the contents of the "Red Book" on Infantry Drill. At times, when the boat gave a roll, more turnings were gone through than were set down in the drill book. CHAPTER II. THE VOYAGE TO AFRICA. It was now drill continuously all day and every day. Sergeant-Major Oakes, of the Victorian Rangers, held a class of instruction for non-commissioned officers every morning, and during the day Lieut.-Colonel Kelly would read to us from the bridge extracts from Queen's Regulations and Military Law, specially impressing upon us those parts which referred to the first duty of a soldier, "obedience to orders." Every Sunday church parade was held on deck; the services were conducted by the Rev. Major Holden, who accompanied us as far as Beira. Everyone had a good word for the chaplain, who was always moving about among the men, providing them with all kinds of books and writing material, and his many kindnesses were greatly appreciated by all. He edited and published a paper on board named "The A.I. Register," which was a great success. The demand for copies was so large that the supply of paper ran out, and publication ceased after the first issue. Occasionally we would have a shooting competition between the different squadrons; an empty box or fruit case would be dropped overboard as a target, and when it was about 200 yards away we would fire volleys at it. The results were watched by a party of officers on the bridge, and points were awarded for the best shooting. Almost every evening concerts were held on deck, a very fine piano having been given for the use of the troops by the Acting-Governor of Victoria, Sir John Madden. A phonograph was also much in evidence, and at times a boxing contest would also be indulged in. When we began to steer north-west the weather became very hot, and consequently trying for the

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morning, and passed the heads about 11 a.m. I saw many of my old Queenscliff comrades signalling and gesticulating from the forts as we passed through the Rip. The pilot was next put off, and we were soon under way in earnest for South Africa. Cape Otway was the last glimpse we had of the home land, and owing to the "Victorian" keeping well out to sea, no more land was sighted until we were off the coast of Madagascar. As this was my first experience of a sea voyage, I fully expected that a bout of sea-sickness would be part of the programme, but such was not the case as far as I was concerned, and when I saw scores of my comrades hanging limply over the side and lying like dead men about the deck, I congratulated myself in the words of the Pharisee, "Thank God I am not as other men are." Everything on board was soon got into ship-shape order, and we lived fairly well. A large quantity of fruit and butter bad been sent on board as a gift for the use of the troops, and was greatly appreciated as a welcome addition to the bill of fare. My duties were to assist the regimental quartermaster-sergeant, and superintend the distribution of the horse feed. This was stowed in the hold, hoisted up daily, and portioned out to the different squadrons. The horses were a splendid lot, and stood the voyage remarkably well, only one dying during the trip. When about three days at sea a batch of stowaways made their appearance; they looked a motley and grimy crowd as they emerged from the coal bunkers. They were paraded before the ship's captain, who put them to work on the coal for the remainder of the voyage. On arrival at Beira they joined the Mashonaland Mounted Police. A little later we were paraded before the medical officers and vaccinated; it affected some very badly, and for a time they were quite incapable of doing any duty. After about five days out I was agreeably surprised when I was informed that I had been promoted to the rank of sergeant. I was put in charge of a squad to instil into them the contents of the "Red Book" on Infantry Drill. At times, when the boat gave a roll, more turnings were gone through than were set down in the drill book. CHAPTER II. THE VOYAGE TO AFRICA. It was now drill continuously all day and every day. Sergeant-Major Oakes, of the Victorian Rangers, held a class of instruction for non-commissioned officers every morning, and during the day Lieut.-Colonel Kelly would read to us from the bridge extracts from Queen's Regulations and Military Law, specially impressing upon us those parts which referred to the first duty of a soldier, "obedience to orders." Every Sunday church parade was held on deck; the services were conducted by the Rev. Major Holden, who accompanied us as far as Beira. Everyone had a good word for the chaplain, who was always moving about among the men, providing them with all kinds of books and writing material, and his many kindnesses were greatly appreciated by all. He edited and published a paper on board named "The A.I. Register," which was a great success. The demand for copies was so large that the supply of paper ran out, and publication ceased after the first issue. Occasionally we would have a shooting competition between the different squadrons; an empty box or fruit case would be dropped overboard as a target, and when it was about 200 yards away we would fire volleys at it. The results were watched by a party of officers on the bridge, and points were awarded for the best shooting. Almost every evening concerts were held on deck, a very fine piano having been given for the use of the troops by the Acting-Governor of Victoria, Sir John Madden. A phonograph was also much in evidence, and at times a boxing contest would also be indulged in. When we began to steer north-west the weather became very hot, and consequently trying for the

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troops, being almost unbearable day and night. Beira Harbour was reached on the morning of 22nd May, 1900. The British gunboat "Partridge" came out and met us. We were all very anxious to know how the war was going, as we had not heard any news since leaving Melbourne. Mafeking had been relieved on the 17th, but there was still plenty to do. Pretoria had not then been occupied. We anchored in the harbour, opposite the town. The "Armenian," with the New South Wales contingent on board, had arrived a few days before, and we were greeted with ringing cheers when we dropped anchor alongside. As there was no pier, everything had to be landed in lighters. The horses were taken off in a kind of flat-bottomed barge 20 ft. square; a tug boat would take it within a chain or so of the land, and a team of Kaffirs would then wade in and seize hold of a rope and haul it on to the beach. Owing to the harbour being full of shipping, we had rather an exciting time on one of the lighters. In dodging among the other boats, we got foul of an anchor chain, and were cast adrift, starting off with the tide at a great rate. Our tug-boat, while manoeuvring round to pick us up, was run into by another tug. After much gesticulating and vociferating on the part of the Portuguese captains, we were taken in tow again, and eventually landed on the beach. While we were waiting in the harbour, the "Manhattan" arrived with the South Australian, West Australian, and Tasmanian contingents; she afterwards returned to Durban and landed her troops there. The 24th being the Queen's Birthday, there was a great display of bunting in the bay. At night there were fireworks, and a patriotic concert held on board. We sang "Boys of the Bulldog Breed," "Tommy Atkins," and "God Save the Queen" till "lights out." After landing at Beira, we encamped about half a mile outside the town, adjoining the Remount Depot, where over 2000 horses, principally Hungarian ponies, were paddocked. These ponies were real little beauties to look at, and many looked fit to win a Melbourne Cup, but rather fine for remounts. Beira is a wretched little place, built on a narrow ridge of sand along the beach. The old part of the town is built principally of galvanised iron, with here and there standing out prominently a modern building of brick, roofed with red tiles. The streets are usually ankle deep in loose sand; narrow tramways are laid down along the streets, and townspeople and tradesmen have their own private cars, which are pushed along by Kaffirs. These cars take the place of vehicular traffic, cabs and rickshaws being conspicuous by their absence. The cars are a motley collection. Some are of very rude workmanship, pushed along by a couple of dirty and almost naked Kaffirs, while others are of a more modern and aristocratic type, being hooded and upholstered, and propelled by as many as four gaily-dressed Kaffir boys. The railway (of 2-ft. gauge) and trains were built on a miniature scale; it was quite amusing to see them going along. Judging by the way the wheels went round, the smoke and noise, one would think he was travelling at least 60 miles an hour, when in reality he was travelling about six. At this time troops were being sent into Rhodesia, and the Chartered Company was laying down a broad gauge in place of the narrow gauge between Salisbury and Beira. The contractor had completed it as far as Bamboo Creek, a malaria-stricken swamp 90 miles inland from Beira, and I wondered why the broader gauge was not pushed on to Beira, as the traffic there had become very congested. From credible information I learned that the contractors were getting £1000 per day for taking the troops through the Portuguese territory, and doubtless had their own time to do it in. It was scandalous that thousands of men, wholly unused to such a climate, should be kept for months in such an unhealthy district, where fever and dysentery were undermining the constitutions of hundreds of them. Several corps of Australian Bushmen had arrived at Beira just a month before us, and had gone through to Marrandellas. Some time after, the following article with reference to them was written and published in an English journal:-- To say that they were extremely annoyed would be describing their feelings too mildly. They were very savage; they forgot themselves slightly, and swore with force and originality. They cursed Rhodesia, they cursed fate, they cursed their various Governments, but mostly they cursed their Governments, for they are a very political people these Australians, weaned on manifestoes and reared on Parliamentary debates. They cursed their Governments, knowing by heart their weaknesses, and ever ready to attribute the non-success of any undertaking--be it political, social, or warlike--to the dilatory action of certain members of the divers Cabinets. "The Government ought never to have sent us up here at all," a Queenslander spoke with great earnestness, "if they wanted us to see any fighting. Got to Beira in April, now it's June, and--" They were "out of it." Pretoria was occupied. This was the news which had spread the wave of pessimism over a little wayside camp on the Bulawayoroad--a camp on the fringe of the long white road, which wound south and dipped north. The Sabakwe River trickled through the land, a stone's throw from the white tilted waggons drawn tailboard to pole to form a rough laager, and the heavy-eyed oxen stood knee-deep in its sluggish waters. North, or rather north-east, several nights away, was Marrandellas. South of that, and far, was Beira, and it was two months ago since they had left. Two months, and Mafeking had been relieved, Johannesburg entered, Pretoria occupied. Therefore the Bushmen, who dreamt not of Eland's River, and to whom Zeerust was a name in a gazetteer, grew despondent. "Do you think there is a chance of fighting, sir?" I could not answer the Victorian who asked, nor did I have the heart to reprove the Tasmanian who swore. "Well," remarked the Queenslander, "all I can say is, that if we don't see any fighting it will be a shame." He qualified shame. "We didn't come out here to be piffled through this country." There was an adjective before country. "If I wanted to admire scenery I'd have stayed in Queensland. If I wanted gold I'd have gone to Rockhampton. As for land, well, if any of you fellers want land I'll sell you a run of 6000 acres of the best land in the world." They are peculiar, the men who are holding Eland's River; they are not soldiers as we in London know soldiers; they don't like shouldering arms by numbers, and they vote squad drill "damn silly." They are poor marching men, for they have been used to riding; they ride firmly, but not gracefully. The horses they prefer are great, rough, upstanding brutes that buck themselves into inverted V's when they are mounted, and stand on their hind legs to express their joy. The Bushman will ride a horse for a hundred miles without thinking it anything extraordinary, and bring it in in good condition, but he cannot go for a couple of miles without galloping the poor brute to death. He is very careful how he feeds his mount, and would sooner go without food himself than his dumb friend should be hungry, but it takes a troop-sergeant-major and three corporals to make a Bushman groom his horse. They are very patient, these men; their training makes them so. They have learnt to sit by waterholes and watch sheep, dividing their time between week-old papers and day-old lambs. Politics interest them; wars--ordinary every-day war that does not call for their active interference--interest them; but the price of wool interests them more than all these things. Russian famines distress them, Indian plagues alarm them, but the blue staring sky and the rain

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that comes not make lines round their eyes, and puts grey into their beards. They have got their own method of going out to fight, and that method is as distinct from that of the regular Tommy as Tommy's is foreign to the C.I.V. Tommy goes forth to battle in a workmanlike manner. He seldom writes farewell letters, but grabs a hunk of biscuit, gives his water-bottle a shake to see how much he has got, buckles on his pouches and bayonet, and, with the instinct bred on a dozen barrack squares, smooths the creases out of his stained khaki jacket. Then he picks up his rifle and eyes it critically, jerks back the bolt and squints up the barrel--Tommy, the workman, is careful of his tools--pushes back the bolt, mechanically snaps the trigger, fixes his helmet firmly on his head, and steps out to join his company. The C.I.V. when I knew him first was somewhat self-conscious. His rifle was clean, his bandolier was ready to put on, his coat was nicely rolled, his putties were evenly fixed; long before the fall-in bugle sounded he was ready for parade--for he was very keen. When the bugle sounded he picked up his rifle, not carelessly, as did his brother of the line, but reverently and with care. He adjusted his broad-brimmed hat, he patted his bayonet to see if it was there, and went out to face the pock-marked trenches with the proud consciousness that at the worst he would make a picturesque casualty. The Bushman knows his rifle as the city man knows his walking-stick. He feels neither contempt nor awe for it. It is a commercial asset, a domestic property. Perhaps he keeps his wife in dresses by shooting kangaroos; perhaps he keeps himself in whisky by tracking wallabies. His equipment is scanty. He has a bandolier, perhaps a pouch, possibly a mess-tin, certainly a "billy." When the parade-call goes he falls in with his fellows, and numbers off from the right somewhat sheepishly. On parade he is a unit and has to do as he's told, and he isn't quite used to submitting his will to those of others in authority. "Fours right!" He wheels round awkwardly. If he makes a slip he causes his horse to buck to cover his confusion. "Walk--march!" He is off, and he feels easier. Then comes the splitting up of his squadron into little independent patrols, and he breathes freely, for with a couple of kindred spirits on a scouting trip he is a man once more with a soul of his own. He sees most things and acts quickly. Before the "ping" of the sniper's bullet has died away he is off his horse and under cover. Then, if the sniper is an intelligent man, he won't move about much, for when a Bushman has located his quarry he can lie quite still for an hour at a stretch, his cheek touching the stock, his finger resting lightly on the trigger. These are the men who are holding Eland's River--men who live on "damper" and tea--men whose progress through Rhodesia was marked by many dead horses and much profanity. They wanted to fight badly. They prayed that they might get into a tight place. Their prayer is answered. If you knew the Eland's River garrison you would not pity them, you would rejoice with them. CHAPTER III. ROUND ABOUT BEIRA. Life in camp at Beira was almost a repetition of Langwarrin, being principally occupied in attending to and exercising the horses. On my arrival in camp I was instructed by Captain Dallimore to act as squadron-quartermaster-sergeant; my duties were to see that rations and forage were drawn daily and all camp equipment kept in order. Occasionally I went out on the veldt when exercising the horses; there appeared to be plenty of game about, and whenever a small buck rose up close to us there would be a hue-and-cry after it. Sometimes we would succeed in running it down in the long grass. It was rather dangerous sport galloping through the long grass, as one was very likely to come a nasty cropper over a hidden ant-heap. We were not allowed to take rifles out with us, but a revolver would always be forthcoming; this was used instead, but never with very great success. On one of these outings I got my first glimpse of the Kaffirs at home. The kraals are neat little round grass huts, much resembling the old-fashioned straw bee-hives, with one small opening as a door, but so small that one would require to go on all-fours to get inside. Gaunt-looking natives, clad in only a "moucha," or loin cloth, sat lazily about, while little picaninnies, naked as when born, played around. The women, who appeared to be doing all the work, would dart inside like rabbits into a burrow when anyone approached. When we came up a group had been busily engaged round a large pot of Kaffir corn, black-looking stuff resembling linseed meal when cooked. My opinion of the Kaffir, which was formed after later experiences, is not a good one. In his raw state, in his skins and cats' tails, he is physically and morally not a bad fellow; he will work intermittently, and much like a child, as if it were play. But as soon as he has been brought into contact with the civilising influence of the mission stations, and has discarded his cats' tails for European dress, and begins to ape the white man, he becomes a bore, and combines all the white man's vices with his own innate cunning and deceit, and his ruin is accomplished. He will not work in the hot sun, and when it is cold or raining is the most miserable of creatures, and almost incapable of work. The Dutchmen could only manage them by instilling energy into them from the end of a "sjambok." As a fighting man the Kaffir is worse than useless. I would rather have one white man than a whole regiment of Kaffirs. Most men who have had any lengthened experience among so-called Christianised natives, and have studied the work of the missionaries among them, are inclined to term mission stations "bosh," and the stations are rarely supported by anyone who has studied them from behind the scenes. In return for his labour the native receives a smattering of education, and it is not unusual to meet a young native in the vicinity of a mission station with his face buried in a preparatory primer, ejaculating from memory, "I see a dog," "This is my dog," "God is my father," "God is in heaven." As the coloured population in South Africa runs into many millions, the native question will always remain a big item in South African politics. Until polygamy and other privileges he now enjoys under tribal rights and customs are abolished the Kaffir will never become a good worker. At present he is allowed to have as many wives as he wishes; it is not "as many as he can afford to keep," for they are practically his slaves, and do the work to keep him, while he idles about the kraal smoking and drinking "joualla" or Kaffir beer. With proper legislation, management, and treatment coloured labour would never need to be imported to South Africa. The evils of the importation are seen to-day in Natal, where the Hindu holds the monopoly in many trades. CHAPTER IV. ON THE SICK LIST. The country about Beira is very flat, and at times much of the land becomes flooded, and the roads have to be raised six or eight feet to be passable. During our stay there the Portuguese Governor and suite paid a visit to the New South Wales camp, which had been grandly decorated for the occasion with palms, banana trees, and other tropical vegetation. His Excellency greatly admired the troops and the splendid condition of the Australian horses; also Captain Ryrie's unique exhibition of boomerang throwing. We had been at Beira nearly a month, during which time troops had been dribbling through to Rhodesia. At last it was our turn to be passed on to Bamboo Creek; we entrained at four in the afternoon, and reached Bamboo Creek at three in the morning--90 miles in eleven hours. It was considered quite a record trip. We had been very fortunate in that the train

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had kept on the rails the whole way without a break-down or a smash-up; I had noticed broken and overturned rolling-stock at intervals along the line. About five miles out from Beira we passed through a belt of typical tropical jungle, dense undergrowth of bamboo and scrub, while overhead the trees were decked with parasite plant life, and festooned with many kinds of creeper. The Queensland bean was very prominent, its gigantic pods from six to eight feet in length hanging from the stems. We stayed at Bamboo Creek four days--quite long enough, judging by the look of the cemetery opposite the camp, which had been well filled from the Imperial Yeomanry who had passed through ahead of us, a number having been employed in the workshops there building rolling-stock. The town consisted of a couple of tin shanties, where the principal drink sold was bad wine. I had been left behind with a party of men to strike camp and gather up all camp equipment that remained, and entrain it for Umtali; I was not sorry when we got on our way. After travelling all night we stopped at Mandegas for breakfast and to feed the horses. The country round here consists of vast plains; the landscape is bare and uninviting, and deficient in water and tree growth. After leaving Mandegas behind, the physical features of the country begin to change; isolated kopjes rise out of the veldt, and bold and picturesque outlines of ranges appear in the distance. We wound our way through the rugged gorges of Massi-Kessi, an important gold-mining district on the plateau which stretches along the Portuguese boundary, and, passing into Mashonaland, arrived at Umtali, in Rhodesia, and pitched our camp in the station yard. I was favourably impressed with this town on account of the number and character of its buildings, its telephone service, and general up-to-date appearance; it is one of those little towns that are just moving ahead on account of the rich goldfields in the neighbourhood. It is prettily situated in a kind of great basin, almost surrounded by high mountain ranges. A little agriculture is done in this district, a settlement of Dutch farmers having been placed there by Cecil Rhodes, who himself had a model farm a little to the north. The grass grew very long and rank, and appeared as if it would carry any number of stock. The Chartered Company afterwards put on it a thousand head of cattle which had been shipped from Australia and brought in via Beira. I afterwards met one of the men who had gone over with them and herded them at Umtali; he informed me that the experiment had been a complete failure; although they had arrived in splendid condition, the whole of them died within six months, and he had been stricken with malarial fever. We were now in British territory, so it was decided to leave the railway and go on "trek" to Marrandellas; the Dutch settlers furnished the transports. Leaving Umtali we took the road through Christmas Pass, and rose several thousand feet as we wound our way through the mountains which encircle the town. The scenery as we rose higher and higher became more magnificent and enchanting; all around us was rank vegetation, among which ferns and beautiful wild flowers grew in great profusion, and gay-plumaged birds flitted about. Occasionally we got a glimpse of a distant landscape of fantastic and rugged grandeur, glorified by the setting sun. The climate being dry and the air so remarkably clear, even at a great distance the landscape stands out very distinctly. We passed through Old Umtali, which had been a flourishing little settlement before the railway line was built, and had been the scene of much fighting during the last native insurrection. A mission station was about all that remained, and in its garden I noticed old rifle barrels being used to stake young fruit-trees. Along the road were deserted and tumble-down farm houses, once the

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homes of struggling settlers whom the natives had swooped down upon and massacred; this was made painfully evident by the lonely graves close by. After five days' trekking through bush veldt country we reached Rusapi, a small trading station on the railway about half way between Umtali and Marrandellas; we bivouacked near the river. I shall always have a lively recollection of this camp. I turned in as usual after dark--that is, I rolled myself up in my blanket, and lay on the ground with my saddle for a pillow. It was a bitterly cold night, but being tired I soon dropped off to sleep. Towards morning I woke with a most awful pain in my right knee, which had become very stiff and much swollen. I began to think of snakes and poisonous insects, but on examination I could find no trace of anything having bitten me. With the assistance of one of my comrades I went in search of the doctor, who examined me, and informed me that I was suffering from a severe attack of "synovitis" (inflammation of the membranes of the joint). He ordered me to be taken on one of the transport waggons and to bathe my knee with cold water as often as possible. That ride, which lasted seven days, was one of the most agonising of my experiences. I sat on the top of the waggon, which was loaded with supplies, and was unable even to lie down with any comfort, while the bumping and jolting intensified the pain until it became almost unbearable. At night, when we outspanned, I would lie under the waggon out of the night dews. Sleep was out of the question; I could only listen to the jackals and hyenas howling round the camp. In the daytime I would try to chum in with the Dutch driver, but I found him extremely taciturn; he would sit on the front of the waggon and smoke all day, and it was only when we got stuck in a drift, or at some other tight pinch, that he would get off and flog the oxen most unmercifully. One of the oxen, which was a bit of a warrigal, or a "bi-schellum" as he termed it, he named "Englishman," and when the whip was being used poor "Englishman" received more attention than the rest of the team put together. Racial hatred was then at a very high pitch, and no opportunity was lost in giving expression to it. Although, perhaps, since peace was declared opinions are not so openly discussed, in the hearts of the Dutch race this hatred undoubtedly still exists, and is likely to exist through generations yet to come, though in the meantime it may be kept in check through the rifle and at the point of the sword. As we continued our journey, on one occasion we got stuck in a drift or ford, among rocks and boulders. After several unsuccessful attempts to get out, our team was supplemented by another span; the result was equally unsuccessful. A third was then attached, making a span of nearly sixty oxen; again they tried to start, the drivers and natives shrieking, slashing, swearing, and shouting as though Pandemonium were let loose. This time the pole broke, and the waggon was left standing in the stream; eventually it was got upon the bank and the teams outspanned while the pole was repaired. When nearing Marrandellas the troops went on into camp, leaving the transports some five or six miles out on the road. We had camped for the night, and my leg was so stiff and painful that I could not put it to the ground. I was anxiously waiting for the morrow, when I would be able to go into hospital and get some kind of treatment. During the evening a spring cart was sent out from the camp to the waggons for the officers' kits, and I embraced what I thought was an opportunity of getting into hospital instead of spending another night on the veldt. I was put in the cart, and all went well for about two miles, when we came to a drift with a steep bank on either side. As soon as we started on the upgrade, the horse stopped dead, and neither whip nor coaxing would make him move. After about an hour wasted in

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various expedients, and when the resources of the driver had been exhausted, he decided to take the brute back to camp and return with a fresh animal, promising faithfully to return in about two hours. I lay on the ground wrapped in a horse-rug, quite alone, and waited; hour after hour passed, but no driver returned. The night was extremely cold; I had no fire, and very little covering, and I did not get a wink of sleep. All night long wild animals made the night hideous with weird and blood-curdling sounds. Lying there in the dark, helpless and unarmed, I could hear the sound of sticks breaking only a few yards away, and as my ideas of Rhodesia were largely associated with lions and other man-eating carnivora, I concluded that before morning there would be a vacancy for a sergeant in my regiment. Shortly after daylight the driver put in an appearance, and a start was made for the camp, which was reached about 8 o'clock. After being examined by the medical officer, I was taken on to the hospital and admitted. The hospital was a low, corrugated iron building, filled with canvas stretchers, and each patient had to provide his own bedding, which in many cases was teeming with vermin. The food was wretched and the attendance worse. The food consisted principally of hashed-up "Maconochie ration" (a mysterious kind of tinned meat and vegetables) and boiled rice, with occasionally a bit of bread in lieu of army biscuits. This would be placed in the doorway by the cook in a couple of large pots, from which the patients had to help themselves; those who were unable to get up ran a risk of getting nothing at all unless they had a comrade to serve them. There were three or four hospital orderlies, whose time appeared to be occupied in bossing some half a dozen Kaffir boys. I would have almost starved if I had not been able to get provisions from outside, which my comrades purchased for me from the canteen; most of this food was "commandeered" by the night orderlies while I slept. A wash was a luxury and a bath unknown. My knee had first been strapped in plaster, then blistered, and afterwards put in a splint and tightly bandaged, and I was ordered complete rest. No part of this treatment seemed to do me any good. After I had been in hospital fifteen days, a Medical Board came and sat around me, and examined me, and decided to invalid me home to Australia. I pleaded to be allowed to remain, or sent to the Cape for a change; but I was informed that it would probably be months before I would be fit for mounted duty again. I was taken, with about forty other invalids, and put on board the train. The accommodation was disgraceful, and the management scandalous. A few men who had rheumatic fever were helpless and incapable of moving, while others were debilitated and weakened by malaria and dysentery; all were indiscriminately herded together in a couple of covered-in trucks, amongst baggage kit and rations. The rations provided consisted of the usual boulli beef and biscuits, with a little jam--no "medical comforts," not even bread. There was one carriage on the train that was monopolised by an Imperial Yeomanry officer and a few of his men, who were being "invalided" home as useless; in his charge we were sent to the coast. Dr. Kelly, a Victorian who accompanied us, did all in his power under the circumstances. At Umtali he arranged for us to be supplied with suitable food from the railway refreshment rooms, and here we secured a stock for the remainder of the journey. Another carriage was attached to the train, and four of us commandeered a compartment, and made ourselves comfortable in a four-berth sleeper. An Imperial Yeomanry lance-corporal came along, and affecting a lot of bounce, wanted to eject us, as the room was wanted for some of his comrades. We told him what we thought of him in good Australian language, and remained in possession. Leaving at 7 in

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the morning, we arrived at Beira at 11 the following day--running through without a break in the journey, as the broad gauge railway had been completed. We pulled up in the station yard, as there were then no platforms to the stations. Our kit and baggage were thrown out on the metals, and we were turned out to find our way as best we could to the Beach Hotel, where we were to be billeted. No arrangements whatever had been made to take us from the station to the hotel, a distance of about half a mile. After waiting alone for a considerable time, I hailed a good Samaritan who happened to be passing. He kindly placed his car and "boys" at my disposal, and put me down at the door of the hotel just in time for lunch, the first respectable meal I had had for months. We remained in Beira three weeks waiting for a boat to Capetown. In the meantime, under the treatment of Dr. Kelly, my knee had greatly improved, and during the last week I was able to get about with the assistance of a stick. It is said that when one is in Rome one must do as Rome does; the same applied to Beira. Sports, cricket matches, and bull fights are always held there on Sunday. On the second Sunday after our arrival, the opening of the Vasco Da Gama Park, which is prettily situated on a jungly sand-dune at the back of the town, took place. In the afternoon athletic sports were held. The most amusing event of the day was the natives' race, in which between three and four hundred natives of all sorts and sizes competed; native policemen were stationed round the course, and frequently used their knob-kerries upon the heads of luckless natives who tried to take a short cut. On the Sunday following, a bull fight took place--the ideal sport of the Spanish and Portuguese nations. It had been much talked about; wild bulls had been procured, and a splendid day's sport assured. We Australians thought it rather an amusing farce. The wild bulls turned out to be a couple of hump-backed native cattle, small under-sized beasts, with very little spirit about them. One was brought in and pursued round the arena by a gorgeously-dressed matador, who annoyed and worried the poor brute by striking it with darts. When at last it turned and showed fight, it was immediately hustled out of the ring, and another of a milder disposition brought in. Much of the same by-play was gone through, but this time the matador, by a quick movement, threw a cloak over the bull's head, and falling between its horns, was carried round the arena. This final masterpiece was greeted with wild and vociferous shrieks by the onlookers. While staying at the Beach Hotel, I made the acquaintance of Mr. Bill Upsher, a well-known South African big game hunter; he had just returned from a trip to England, and was busily engaged in fitting out a shooting expedition to the Zambesi for an Austrian count. I was extremely anxious to hear him recount a few of his experiences and hair-breadth escapes, but, like many whose lives are spent chiefly in the bush, away from civilisation, and amid surroundings constantly fraught with danger, he was singularly retiring and taciturn. In dealing with native prisoners, the Portuguese have rather a novel method, which is almost a survival of the Marshalsea of Dickens' days. Convicted natives must provide their own food, which is obtained by the sale of native work; two natives are chained together with heavy chains, and, escorted by a native policeman, are allowed to hawk their wares round the town for sale. The Beira Constabulary, dressed in their smart khaki uniforms and Baden-Powell type of hats and armed with cutlass and revolver, are rather a formidable body of little men. In conversation with one, who could speak English well, he told me he had been a soldier and had fought in the Kaffir wars during the early settlement of the town. He became quite excited when relating his experiences, and stated that "the Kaffirs swarmed upon us in thousands, and we shot them down in millions! and then the terrible fever! and the breakdown of the commissariat! We had no food and were starving, and as a last resource had to eat dead Kaffir. The big church over the way was built in commemoration of the troops who died during that terrible war." CHAPTER V. THE AUSTRALIANS IN CAPETOWN. On leaving Beira we embarked on the German mail-boat "Kronprinz" for Durban, calling en route at Delagoa Bay, where we remained four days discharging cargo. About 2000 tons were put off, consisting principally of tinned beef; a few lighter loads of stuff, probably munitions of war, were prohibited, and had to be put again on the boat. The number of gunboats lying in the harbour gave it the appearance of a naval station; several European nations were represented there. This harbour is one of the finest on the east coast, the river being navigable for big shipping for nearly twenty miles. The town of Lorenzo Marques, prettily situated on rising ground on the north side, is a flourishing little place, and likely from its natural advantages to become in time the first port of commerce on the east coast. When the low-lying swamps in the neighbourhood are drained and reclaimed, malaria will no longer be dreaded, and European children will be able to grow up there with rosy cheeks. Our pleasant voyage to Durban was marred by a tragic incident on board. One day, after the German Band had been playing as usual from the saloon deck, a bandsman who had received a slight reproof, hastened to his cabin and blew his brains out with a revolver. The incident appeared to cause but a momentary flutter; the corpse was wrapped in canvas and weighted and dropped overboard, almost before it was cold. Next day the matter was forgotten. Durban was reached after a run of eight days. The sea was too rough to cross the bar into the harbour, and we all were well shaken as we were swung over the side in baskets on to a tender, which took us off to the landing stage. We were now transferred to the "Persia," an ancient and rickety-looking transport, which was lying alongside the wharf. I believe she had broken her propeller shaft when taking her first load of troops to Africa; she looked as if she had been at the bottom of the sea for fifty years, and had been suddenly hauled up and set off when the war broke out. She was a splendid exhibit from the War Office, whose administrators seemed to us to consist of a number of gilt-and-tasselled drawing-room knights, sitting with their feet on velvet pile to consider the binding of a blue book or to unwind a fresh piece of red tape. On board the "Persia" there were about 500 other invalids on their way home; the accommodation and food were in keeping with the rest of the boat. We remained at Durban for nearly a week, and were allowed to go ashore during the day; much of my time was spent in "rickshaw" rides. The "rickshaw" boys, with their grotesque head-dress of feathers and horns, are fine specimens of the Zulu native; when touting for hire they fairly besiege a prospective fare, pirouetting and capering round in most striking attitudes, at the same time informing you that "Me good boy, boss!" One will go a little better with, "Me very flash boy, boss!" and start kicking up his heels and shying half-way across the road and back again. When one is selected, the others with ejaculations of disappointment return to their stands, ready to charge the next passer-by. On Sunday a party of us drove round the Berea to Umgeni, a very pretty little pleasure resort situated among the hills, and much patronised by Durbanites; the scenery there was picturesque and pleasing, much of the country being covered with sugar plantations and orange groves. The Berea, a chain of hills at the back of the town, is the "Toorak" of Durban; splendid mansions and pretty villas peep from

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the morning, we arrived at Beira at 11 the following day--running through without a break in the journey, as the broad gauge railway had been completed. We pulled up in the station yard, as there were then no platforms to the stations. Our kit and baggage were thrown out on the metals, and we were turned out to find our way as best we could to the Beach Hotel, where we were to be billeted. No arrangements whatever had been made to take us from the station to the hotel, a distance of about half a mile. After waiting alone for a considerable time, I hailed a good Samaritan who happened to be passing. He kindly placed his car and "boys" at my disposal, and put me down at the door of the hotel just in time for lunch, the first respectable meal I had had for months. We remained in Beira three weeks waiting for a boat to Capetown. In the meantime, under the treatment of Dr. Kelly, my knee had greatly improved, and during the last week I was able to get about with the assistance of a stick. It is said that when one is in Rome one must do as Rome does; the same applied to Beira. Sports, cricket matches, and bull fights are always held there on Sunday. On the second Sunday after our arrival, the opening of the Vasco Da Gama Park, which is prettily situated on a jungly sand-dune at the back of the town, took place. In the afternoon athletic sports were held. The most amusing event of the day was the natives' race, in which between three and four hundred natives of all sorts and sizes competed; native policemen were stationed round the course, and frequently used their knob-kerries upon the heads of luckless natives who tried to take a short cut. On the Sunday following, a bull fight took place--the ideal sport of the Spanish and Portuguese nations. It had been much talked about; wild bulls had been procured, and a splendid day's sport assured. We Australians thought it rather an amusing farce. The wild bulls turned out to be a couple of hump-backed native cattle, small under-sized beasts, with very little spirit about them. One was brought in and pursued round the arena by a gorgeously-dressed matador, who annoyed and worried the poor brute by striking it with darts. When at last it turned and showed fight, it was immediately hustled out of the ring, and another of a milder disposition brought in. Much of the same by-play was gone through, but this time the matador, by a quick movement, threw a cloak over the bull's head, and falling between its horns, was carried round the arena. This final masterpiece was greeted with wild and vociferous shrieks by the onlookers. While staying at the Beach Hotel, I made the acquaintance of Mr. Bill Upsher, a well-known South African big game hunter; he had just returned from a trip to England, and was busily engaged in fitting out a shooting expedition to the Zambesi for an Austrian count. I was extremely anxious to hear him recount a few of his experiences and hair-breadth escapes, but, like many whose lives are spent chiefly in the bush, away from civilisation, and amid surroundings constantly fraught with danger, he was singularly retiring and taciturn. In dealing with native prisoners, the Portuguese have rather a novel method, which is almost a survival of the Marshalsea of Dickens' days. Convicted natives must provide their own food, which is obtained by the sale of native work; two natives are chained together with heavy chains, and, escorted by a native policeman, are allowed to hawk their wares round the town for sale. The Beira Constabulary, dressed in their smart khaki uniforms and Baden-Powell type of hats and armed with cutlass and revolver, are rather a formidable body of little men. In conversation with one, who could speak English well, he told me he had been a soldier and had fought in the Kaffir wars during the early settlement of the town. He became quite excited when relating his experiences, and stated that "the Kaffirs swarmed upon us in thousands, and we shot them down in millions! and then the terrible fever! and the breakdown of the commissariat! We had no food and were starving, and as a last resource had to eat dead Kaffir. The big church over the way was built in commemoration of the troops who died during that terrible war." CHAPTER V. THE AUSTRALIANS IN CAPETOWN. On leaving Beira we embarked on the German mail-boat "Kronprinz" for Durban, calling en route at Delagoa Bay, where we remained four days discharging cargo. About 2000 tons were put off, consisting principally of tinned beef; a few lighter loads of stuff, probably munitions of war, were prohibited, and had to be put again on the boat. The number of gunboats lying in the harbour gave it the appearance of a naval station; several European nations were represented there. This harbour is one of the finest on the east coast, the river being navigable for big shipping for nearly twenty miles. The town of Lorenzo Marques, prettily situated on rising ground on the north side, is a flourishing little place, and likely from its natural advantages to become in time the first port of commerce on the east coast. When the low-lying swamps in the neighbourhood are drained and reclaimed, malaria will no longer be dreaded, and European children will be able to grow up there with rosy cheeks. Our pleasant voyage to Durban was marred by a tragic incident on board. One day, after the German Band had been playing as usual from the saloon deck, a bandsman who had received a slight reproof, hastened to his cabin and blew his brains out with a revolver. The incident appeared to cause but a momentary flutter; the corpse was wrapped in canvas and weighted and dropped overboard, almost before it was cold. Next day the matter was forgotten. Durban was reached after a run of eight days. The sea was too rough to cross the bar into the harbour, and we all were well shaken as we were swung over the side in baskets on to a tender, which took us off to the landing stage. We were now transferred to the "Persia," an ancient and rickety-looking transport, which was lying alongside the wharf. I believe she had broken her propeller shaft when taking her first load of troops to Africa; she looked as if she had been at the bottom of the sea for fifty years, and had been suddenly hauled up and set off when the war broke out. She was a splendid exhibit from the War Office, whose administrators seemed to us to consist of a number of gilt-and-tasselled drawing-room knights, sitting with their feet on velvet pile to consider the binding of a blue book or to unwind a fresh piece of red tape. On board the "Persia" there were about 500 other invalids on their way home; the accommodation and food were in keeping with the rest of the boat. We remained at Durban for nearly a week, and were allowed to go ashore during the day; much of my time was spent in "rickshaw" rides. The "rickshaw" boys, with their grotesque head-dress of feathers and horns, are fine specimens of the Zulu native; when touting for hire they fairly besiege a prospective fare, pirouetting and capering round in most striking attitudes, at the same time informing you that "Me good boy, boss!" One will go a little better with, "Me very flash boy, boss!" and start kicking up his heels and shying half-way across the road and back again. When one is selected, the others with ejaculations of disappointment return to their stands, ready to charge the next passer-by. On Sunday a party of us drove round the Berea to Umgeni, a very pretty little pleasure resort situated among the hills, and much patronised by Durbanites; the scenery there was picturesque and pleasing, much of the country being covered with sugar plantations and orange groves. The Berea, a chain of hills at the back of the town, is the "Toorak" of Durban; splendid mansions and pretty villas peep from

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ground on which we rode struck dumbly to the hoof. And no man spake, nor dared so much as loose his tethered tongue, Which else in fevered agony from blackened lips had hung, But now, with limpet grip compelled, to cheek and palate clung. Strathcona's Horse had never borne the fear mark on their brow; The oak sap was their blood--the thews, the supple maple bough; Their swords were fashioned from the share that shod their prairie plough. Then why those white, drawn faces? Why those breasts that strain and heave? Those eyes that see but darkness? And those tongues that parch and cleave? It was the tale the Zulu scout brought southward yester eve. It was the same old tale--the farm, the false white flag, the foe; And four good British lads that fell where murder laid them low. Strathcona's Horse their purpose knew--the morning, too, should know. On! on! there's twenty miles and more between us and the prey, And still the scout, with bleeding feet, directs our weary way, And still our eyes strain eastward for the coming of the day. A dark ravine, whose beetling sides o'erhang the path we tread-- A faint grey line, a spot of light, with shimmering haze o'er-spread-- A wreath of smoke--the farm, the farm, six hundred yards ahead. But see--the Zulu lied. God bless that faithless, perjured black! Those British lads died not, but live. On yonder chimney stack Behold, wrapped in the morning mist, our flag, the Union Jack! Strathcona's Horse rode forward with a swift Canadian swing, Their hearts with joy o'erflowing, and the teardrops glistening--Ping! Halt! What was that? Hell's fury! 'twas the Mauser's deadly ring. Oh, fathomless the treacherous depths within the Boer breast! It was the foe had raised that flag above their devil's nest, While stark and stiff four corpses lay where murder bade them rest. Strathcona's Horse rode forward, though there fell both horse and man; They spake no word, but every brain conceived the self-same plan: Through every vein and nerve and thew the self-same purpose ran. What though the Mausers raked the line, and tore great gaps between? What though the thick clay walls stood firm, the ambushed foe to screen? There was a deed to do, whose like the world had seldom seen. They stormed the palisades, which crashed beneath their furious stroke; The doors with staves they battered in, the barricades they broke-- And then they bound the fiends within, with Mausers for a yoke. Swift to the ending of the deed, yet only half begun, The daylight grows: there's bloody work still waiting to be done-- Six corpses swing athwart the face of God's own rising sun. Bury in peace our own dear dead;--then comrades, ride away; Yet leave a mark that all may know, who hitherward shall stray, Strathcona's Horse it was that paid a visit here to-day. 'Twas thus Strathcona's Horse left Vengeance sitting by her shrine, Where six accursed corpses broke the grey horizon line, Their flesh to feed the vultures, and their bones to be a sign. I also extract the following from a South African paper published in April, 1901:--"A member of Strathcona's Horse writes to me of the gratification felt by that body at having been the first regiment to be presented with the King's colours in recognition of services rendered on the field of battle. It is described as a Union Jack of silk, trimmed with gold, and having gold tassels, and at the top of the staff a gold crown surmounted by a lion. To the flagstaff is fixed a silver plate, engraved with a crown and this inscription:--'Presented by His Majesty the King to Lord Strathcona's Corps, in recognition of services rendered to the Empire in South Africa--1900.'" On one occasion, when embarking invalids for Australia on board the "Persic," which was lying in the roadstead in Table Bay, I met several old acquaintances. I had been in conversation with them down below for about ten minutes, when to my great consternation I felt the vibration of the engines, and found that the "Persic" was on her way to Australia. I rushed to the bridge and called the captain, and informed him of my predicament; he stopped the boat, which by this time had passed outside the breakwater, and hailing a sailing smack that happened to be passing, I, with no little difficulty, got on board and was landed at the docks again. A man never knows his fate; what seemed to me then to be a stroke of ill-luck may have been a visit from my guardian angel in disguise, for, as subsequent events proved, it would perhaps have been better for me if the "Persic" had carried me away unawares to Australia. After being about four months at Maitland camp, I as anxious to rejoin my regiment. My knee, to all appearance, was perfectly well, and I had got rid of my lameness, though during this time I had not attempted to ride a horse. Then Lord Roberts was about to come to Capetown to embark for home, and I was selected to form one of the escort to meet him on his arrival. As soon as I began to take mounted exercise my knee again became troublesome, and my eagerness to take part in the reception cost me another three months' limping. Some time after this the camps at Maitland were closed, and the Cavalry, Artillery, Irregular and Imperial Yeomanry troops were concentrated at the Military Camp on the Green Point Common. The common was once a beautiful grassy down, but the traffic of a large camp had so ploughed it up that it was knee deep in loose sand, and the wind, almost constantly blowing, carried sand with it everywhere. CHAPTER VI. COMMISSIONED IN THE BUSHVELDT CARBINEERS. About this time I made the acquaintance of Major Lenehan, officer commanding the Bushveldt Carbineers, and had a conversation with him regarding a commission in his corps. He told me that he was about to get a gun section attached to it, and if I could raise a detachment of men he would give me command. I recruited a number of time-expired Australians, and several Imperial Royal Horse Artillerymen. On several occasions I applied for my discharge to enable me to take up my commission, but this was not permitted until my regiment returned home for disbandment. In June, 1901, I embarked on the "Orient" at Capetown and rejoined my regiment at East London. There I received a temporary discharge from the Victorian Imperial Bushmen. I received a telegraph message from the O.C.B.V.C., Pietersburg, informing me that my appointment as lieutenant had been confirmed, and directing me to proceed to Pietersburg with any men I could get together there. I prevailed upon thirty returning Australians to remain and join the Carbineers and form the gun detachment. I had them sworn in and equipped at the local recruiting depot. The saddlery issued to these men was practically useless. How any man or body of men could pass such worthless shoddy is beyond comprehension, and reflects sadly on the judgment of the Supplies Board. The saddles were without a vestige of stuffing, and the stirrup-irons were cumbersome pieces of ironwork, weighing over 7 lbs., and so narrow that an ordinary-sized boot would not fit into them--just the kind of equipment to cripple the rider and ruin the horse at the same time. As soon as it was taken into camp at Pietersburg the whole of it was condemned and returned to the ordnance stores. While at East London with a few others, I went one day into a café for lunch. We met a young fellow there who had come from Gippsland, Victoria. He had been drinking rather heavily during his stay in the town. He sat down at the table, and was served with soup; when he had finished he got up to pay for it and go out. He was not hungry, and did not care for anything to eat; he only felt thirsty. "How much for the soup?" he inquired. "Half a crown for the dinner," was the reply. "But I only had a plate of soup!" "That makes no difference; you pay for the dinner." So he sat down again and called for more soup. Another and another was called for, until six plates had been served; then he paid for the dinner, and went out satisfied that he had had his money's worth, and had not been "taken down." On 4th July I left East London en route for Pietersburg. During the day United States citizens were to be seen in gay attire driving through the town, displaying little flags of the Stars and Stripes. They were celebrating their national holiday. Leaving by the evening mail train with the troops I had recruited, we reached Queenstown the following morning. Branching off at Stormberg Junction, we went on to Nauupoort, where the train stabled for the night. The following day we reached Norval's Pont; we travelled then only in the daytime, and reached Pretoria on the afternoon of the 11th. As there was no train to Pietersburg until the following day, I spent a little time looking round Pretoria, visiting the church square, which is surrounded by the Government buildings of the late Republic, and in the centre of which stood the unfinished statue of President Kruger, a striking parallel to the nation of which he had been the head. I then visited Kruger's church and residence, with its two white lions guarding the entrance with silent irony. Close to the railway station is the public market square, which in days before the war would be crowded with the waggons and teams of the Boer farmers, who came to sell or barter their odds and ends of farm produce. Near by was the Pretoria Museum, containing much-prized relics of their old voortrekkers, of their earlier wars and Jameson's raid, and specimens of South African game. This was a great resort of the Boer farmer to instruct the rising generation in the history of their country. After admiring the old guns with which they had fought so bravely and so well, they would turn to a model of one of Donald Currie's liners--"There is the big ship that brings the rooineks over the sea water." Then, pointing to an assvogel--"There is the bird that eats the rooineks when we shoot them like bushbuck on the veldt." Leaving Pretoria on the morning of the 12th July, we passed Haman's Kraal, where the previous night there had been some sharp fighting, and the Dutchmen had got away with a number of cattle; the armoured train picked us up here and escorted us to Nylstroom, where we remained for the night. Kitchener's Fighting Scouts were lying alongside the station, having come in to refit. In the morning I met Major Lenehan, who had arrived by train from Pietersburg. I paraded my men for inspection, and was complimented for my efforts in getting together such a fine troop of men. Leaving Nylstroom for Pietersburg, we passed a spot at Naboonspruit which was marked by nineteen fresh graves. Only a few days before a train had been wrecked there by Boers; an officer, Lieutenant Best, of the Gordon Highlanders, a personal friend of the late Captain Hunt and Lieutenant Morant, had been killed, also eighteen men, including the driver, firemen, and guard of the train. I saw the truck at Warm Baths Station in which these men were shot down; the iron walls had been about as much protection from Mauser bullets as a sheet of paper; the truck was riddled like a sieve. On arrival at Pietersburg, I was met by Lieutenants Edwards and Baudinet; the latter I had known for some time at Capetown, and a few months previously I had acted as best man at his wedding. CHAPTER VII. THE ORIGIN OF THE CARBINEERS. Pietersburg is an important town 180 miles north of Pretoria and the terminus of the railway. After the occupation of Pretoria in June, 1900, the Boer Government was set up here, and it was not until May, 1901, that the town was occupied and garrisoned by British troops. A tragic incident, in which two Tasmanian officers were killed, is related to have occurred on the day the troops entered Pietersburg. These two officers were going out to a magazine on the outskirts of the town, and were sniped at and shot dead by a Dutch schoolmaster who lay hidden in the long grass. When the troops ran up to see what was the matter, this gentleman jumped up, and, holding up his hands, shouted, "I surrender! I surrender! I surrender!" The men walked up to him, and without hesitation ran a bayonet through his body, and in the heat and stress of the battlefield this action of the soldiers was applauded. My duties as an officer of the Carbineers began on 13th July. There was little to be done, and less to be learned, in the ordinary routine of camp duty, which consisted principally of attending the stables to see that the men fed and groomed their horses. When I had been about a fortnight at Pietersburg Major Lenehan returned from Pretoria; he had not succeeded in getting guns for his gun section, and ordered me, much against my inclination, to take over the quartermaster's duties from Lieutenant Mortimer. I held this position about a week. The Bushveldt Carbineers were raised in Capetown and Pretoria early in 1901 for special service in the Northern Transvaal. A Mr. Levy, a storekeeper at Pienaar's River, who had made some money out of the Pienaar's River garrison, offered to devote part of his savings towards the formation of a mounted corps to operate in that district. He contributed £500; Mr. M. Kelly, merchant, of Pietersburg, also gave £100; Dr. Neel, of Matapan, Spelonken, £100; a few others also subscribed. It was orginally proposed to raise 500 men, but not more than 350 constituted the full strength. The camp and headquarters of the Carbineers formed part of the Pietersburg garrison, which was made up of the 2nd Wiltshire Regiment, 2nd Gordon Highlanders, a section of the Royal Field Artillery, and a detachment of the Royal Garrison Artillery, with a 5-in. gun, which was known throughout the war as a "cow-gun," on account of it being drawn by oxen. Colonel Hall, C.B., was garrison commandant. The other officers of the corps stationed at Pietersburg while I was there were Major Lenehan, Lieutenant and Adjutant Edwards, Lieutenant and Quartermaster Mortimer, Lieutenant Baudinet, all Australians, and all late members of the first Australian contingents. There were also Lieutenant Neel, an English doctor, and Lieutenant Kelly, a Pietersburg merchant. A detachment of the Carbineers was at Strydspoort, a post about 35 miles south-east of Pietersburg, and was under the command of Lieutenant H. H. Morant. Another detachment was at Fort Edward, Spelonken, 90 miles north from Pietersburg. This detachment was sent there to assist Captain Alfred Taylor, a special service officer, and was under the command of a captain of the Carbineers; with him went Lieutenant Handcock, a veterinary officer. Major Lenehan was officer commanding the Carbineers, but in reality this was in rank and name only. The major rarely visited the outposts, which were practically under the direct control of the officers in charge; he was a good-natured man, and much attached to his officers. There has been argument regarding the nationality of Lieutenant Morant, and the ignominy of his fate has in prejudiced quarters been attached to Australia. He was, however, born in England and reared as an English gentleman, coming to Australia in manhood. There he was engaged in various bush avocations, especially in droving and breaking horses; hence the pen-name of "The Breaker," by which he became known as a popular writer of verses. He went to the war with an Australian contingent; a good fellow, one could not help liking him, yet he was very hot-headed, and usually did things on the impulse of the moment. He exacted strict obedience, and obtained it, where others holding a much

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higher rank might have failed. Captain Taylor was a special officer of the Intelligence Department, and worked the wild and isolated part of the Transvaal around Spelonken. He was an Irishman by birth, but had lived a number of years in Africa among the natives; he had been a lieutenant in Plumer's Scouts in the Matabele War, and had command of a corps of Cape boys. He had been selected and sent to the Spelonken by Lord Kitchener, on account of his knowledge of the natives. As far as the natives were concerned, he had a free hand and the power of life and death; he was known and feared by them from the Zambesi to the Spelonken, and was called by them "Bulala," which means to kill, to slay. He had the power to order out a patrol when he required it, and it was generally understood that he was the officer commanding at Spelonken. At the trials of the officers later on he admitted in evidence that he had held this position. CHAPTER VIII. WHAT LED TO THE TROUBLE. The officer who had command of the detachment of Carbineers assisting Captain Taylor was, as it appeared, altogether unfit to command such a body of men, and allowed his detachment to drift into a state of insubordination verging on mutiny. The men did almost as they liked, and horses and other captured stock were being divided amongst themselves, while stills on neighbouring farms were freely made use of. According to the evidence taken at the court martial (which is extracted from a summary that appeared in the "Times," 18th April, 1902), Captain Taylor on 2nd July, 1901, received intelligence that a party of six armed Boers were going into the camp to surrender. The officers in charge decided to intercept these men, and not allow them to come in; they would send out a patrol and have them ambushed and shot. After a good deal of argument, a sergeant-major paraded a patrol, headed by a sergeant. The men were told to go out and meet the waggon in which were the six Boers; they were to make the Boers fight, and on no account were these to be brought in alive; if the white flag was put up the men were to take no notice of it, just fire away until all the Boers were shot. This, I afterwards learned, was the correct interpretation of the orders not to take prisoners. The patrol went out, met the six Boers, and opened fire on them. The Boers at once put up the white flag and made a great noise; so, thinking there might be women and children in the waggon, the patrol ceased firing and went to look, but as there were only six men, they were taken out and shot. It has been stated that these men had a large sum of money in their possession, but the money was all a myth. I never heard of any money being taken from them. The Boers invariably buried their money for safety, and I have no doubt large sums of money still remain buried in different parts of the Transvaal. The next incident of note which occurred was the shooting of a trooper of the Fort Edward detachment, and it is here that Lieutenant Handcock first appears in connection with the troubles of the Carbineers. Handcock was an Australian, and was never the bloodthirsty desperado that (after he had been shot) he was made out to be; he was simply the chosen tool of unprincipled men, who held the power to command. He was born and reared to bush pursuits, and was a hard worker; if he was not doctoring the back of a worn-out horse, he was at the forge shoeing. He never initiated any outrage, but he had a keen sense of duty, and could be absolutely relied upon to fulfil it. He had been seen under fire many times, and there never was a braver man. The trooper who had been shot was a Boer, and he had been allowed to become a member of the Carbineers, but there were strong suspicions that he was acting the traitor. There were a number of prisoners in the camp, and this trooper frequently absented

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himself, while on one occasion he was seen and heard pointing out among his comrades the men who had despatched his six unfortunate countrymen. No officer was ever brought to trial for having this man shot, but Major Lenehan was charged with having failed to report his death, and for this he was reprimanded. A report had been sent in, which had been "edited" by the three officers immediately concerned, and it was made to appear that this trooper had been shot in a brush with the Boers. This was stated at the court-martial to have been done in the interest of the corps. About this time the officer in charge of the detachment requested to be recommended for the Distinguished Service Order in recognition of his services. Later on an allegation was made by a lady against an officer in the Spelonken district, and, upon inquiries being made by the authorities at Pietersburg, he was recalled, and was given the option of standing his trial at a court-martial or resigning his commission. He sent in his resignation, and left the corps. Captain Taylor was afterwards tried by court-martial for having ordered the shooting of the six Boers. Captain Robertson elected to turn King's evidence. Taylor was promptly acquitted, as he was also on the charge of shooting a native. A late brother officer informed me that after Morant and Handcock had been shot, and I had become "the guest of the nation" for an indefinite period, Captain Taylor was promoted to another important position in the Transvaal. CHAPTER IX. DEATH OF CAPTAIN HUNT.--MORANT'S REPRISALS. When Captain Robertson was recalled from Fort Edward, Captain Hunt, who was on special duty in Pretoria, and had formerly held a commission in the 10th Hussars, was sent to supersede him. Captain Hunt was accompanied by Lieutenants Morant and Hannam, an Australian; Lieutenant Picton, an Englishman, afterwards joined them. I was not personally acquainted with Captain Hunt, but evidently he had been held in high esteem by officers and men alike, and he was always referred to by them as a fine fellow and a thorough "white man." Lieutenant Picton took with him a convoy, with regimental stores, among which was a quantity of rum for the use of the troops; on the way out some of the men looted this, and what they did not drink they hid away. After their arrival at Fort Edward they would periodically leave, and return to the fort in a state of intoxication. This led to Captain Hunt placing several of them under arrest for insubordination, and also for threatening to shoot Lieutenant Picton. At night these men broke their arrest and rode into Pietersburg. Captain Hunt sent in a report, and made charges of a serious nature against them to Major Lenehan, who caused them to be again placed under arrest, pending court-martial proceedings. Upon a preliminary inquiry being made as to their conduct, they made disclosures regarding what was going on at Spelonken. When the matter was brought before Colonel Hall, C.B., garrison commandant, it was decided in the interests of all concerned to discharge them from the regiment and let them go. To these men may be credited the monstrous and extravagant statements and lying reports about the Carbineers which appeared later in the English and colonial press. After the preliminary courts of inquiry held some time after this into the charges against officers of the Carbineers, and before the courts-martial were held, Colonel Hall was suddenly recalled by the War Office, relieved of his command, and sent out of the country to India. Captain Hunt found affairs in a very disorganised state at Fort Edward, and immediately set about to rectify them. He had the stock collected and handed over to the proper authorities, and the stills broken up. These reforms were carried out by Lieutenants Morant and Handcock, and this was one of the reasons why these two officers were disliked (or "detested," as a returned Carbineer put it) by certain members of the detachment. It was decided at this time to send twenty additional men out to Captain Hunt, with Lieutenant Baudinet in command, but owing to an accident which that officer had met with while playing polo, he was unable to go, and I was selected in his place. I left Pietersburg on 3rd August with Sergeant-Major Hammett and twenty men, and arrived at Fort Edward the following evening. Lieutenant Hannam met me some distance out from the fort, and accompanied me in. He introduced me to Lieutenants Morant and Handcock. This was the first time I had met these officers. Lieutenant Picton was away at Chinde with a patrol, and Captain Hunt was away with another party in the Majajes district. He was killed on the night of 5th August, 1901, when making an attack upon Commandant Viljoen's farmhouse at Duival's Kloof, a spot about 80 miles east of Fort Edward. Captain Hunt had with him only a small party of his own men, seventeen in number, as he had been informed by natives that there were only twenty Boers in occupation of the farmhouse; he had with him also a number of armed natives. It was stated at times during the war by those in authority that the natives were not permitted to take any part in the fighting, but such was not the case. During the time I was in the Spelonken district with the Carbineers the natives were twice raised, and it has been openly stated that, with the connivance of others, when Colonel Grenfell went through the district, he had thousands of these savages, who were fed and paid, attached to his column, and they committed the most hideous atrocities, which no one has yet been made to account for. The natives would follow a patrol like a flock of vultures, armed with all kinds of weapons, from a cowhide shield and bundle of assegais to the latest pattern of rifle. They were worse than useless in action. They might fire one shot, but would then clear out and hide in the long grass until the fighting was over, appearing again on the scene to loot and plunder everything they could lay their hands on. It was the intention of Captain Hunt to rush the farmhouse at night, and surprise the Boers, but the Boers surprised the patrol, and instead of only twenty, there were fully eighty in possession. On making the attack, they were met by a withering fire. At the first volley the natives turned and fled, and I was told by an eye witness that some of the uniforms of Hunt's attacking party could be seen beating a hasty retreat with them. Captain Hunt and two sergeants reached the house, and commenced firing through the windows. They shot down several of the Boers, Commandant Viljoen being amongst them. Captain Hunt was himself then shot in the breast, and fell off the verandah to the ground, where he lay moaning. He was seen by one of his sergeants, who could not render him any assistance on account of the continuous firing from the house and from their own men behind. Sergeant Eland was also shot dead; he was the son of a local settler, whose farm adjoined Reuter's Mission Station. He had formerly been a member of the Natal Carbineers, and had seen much service on the Natal side at the outbreak of the war. He subsequently joined the Bushveldt Carbineers, and was killed within a few miles of his own home, where he was taken and buried. Towards morning the Carbineers withdrew to Reuter's Mission Station, about five miles away, and from there despatched a message to Fort Edward, reporting the loss of Captain Hunt and Sergeant Eland, and asking to be reinforced without delay. Early on Wednesday morning the news reached Fort Edward, and its effect upon Morant was terrible; instead of being the usual gay, light-hearted comrade whom I had known for three days, he became like a man demented. He ordered out every available man to patrol before Captain Taylor at his office at Sweetwaters Farm, about one mile from the fort. Morant tried to address the troops, but broke down, and Captain Taylor then spoke a few words to them, urging them to avenge the death of their captain, and "give no quarter." Guides and intelligence agents were furnished by Taylor, and the patrol started off with Morant in command. We travelled across country, and took the most direct route to Reuter's Station. When we were about twenty miles out, we met Lieutenant Picton returning, with a number of prisoners, who were, by the order of Lieutenant Morant, handed over to a small escort, and sent on to Fort Edward. Picton and the remainder of his men were attached to the patrol. This was my first meeting with Lieutenant Picton. We hurried on, and made a forced march, off-saddling every four hours or so to give the horses a rest, and then on again. At times the guide, who was a German, would lose his way, and a halt would be called. Morant, who was in no mood to be trifled with, and thought he was doing it on purpose, would rage and curse and upbraid and threaten him, until he became afraid of his life. By nightfall we had covered more than 40 miles, and then put up at a native kraal to give the horses a feed and wait until the moon rose. Here one of the intelligence agents left us to gather up an army of natives. By the faint light of a new moon, we started at one o'clock in the morning, and had much difficulty in finding our way, our guide continually misleading us. Once, in crossing a swampy stream, he missed the ford, and horses and men were floundering about in a deep muddy bog, several of the latter getting a dirty morning dip. By midday we reached the Letaba Valley, in the Majajes Mountains, inhabited by a powerful tribe of natives once ruled by a princess said to be the prototype of Rider Haggard's "She." One huge, brawny native recalled to me Allan Quartermain's doughty old warrior Umslopogaas. Passing along the valley, through some of the most rugged landscape secnery in South Africa, we reached Reuter's Mission Station about four in the afternoon. Here we met the men of Captain Hunt's patrol; they had just one hour before buried their captain. After visiting his grave, we returned to Mr. Reuter's house, where Lieutenant Morant interrogated several men regarding Captain Hunt's death. They were all positive that he had met with foul play; they were sure his neck had been broken, as his head was rolling limply about in the cart when he was being brought in. His face had been stamped upon with hob-nailed boots, and his legs had been slashed with a knife; the body was stripped completely of clothes and lying in a gutter when found. Mr. Reuter and Captain Hunt's native servant, Aaron, who had washed and laid out his body for burial, corroborated these statements. This convinced Morant that his brother officer and best friend had been brutally murdered; he vowed there and then that he would give no quarter and take no prisoners. He had ignored his orders to this effect in the past, but he would carry them out in the future. I was informed that Captain Hunt had paraded his officers and sergeants, and told them that he had direct orders from headquarters at Pretoria not to take prisoners. Morant repeated these orders to me as they were given to him by Captain Hunt. We remained at the Mission Station waiting for runners to come in from the intelligence agents, who had been watching the movements of the Boers. At daybreak in the morning, news came that they had vacated the farmhouse at Duival's Kloof, and were trekking away towards the Waterberg. They had a clear day's start of us, but we went off with about forty-five men, leaving a few behind to guard the Mission Station, which the Boers had threatened to bum down over Mr. Reuter's head because our troops had been harboured there. Morant rode at the head, gloomy and sullen, and eager to overtake the retreating enemy. I was in

[Greg C.]

Mike, for your sake, I hope you copied and pasted that...

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command of the rearguard. We rode hard all day, only resting once to give the horses a handful of mealies we had brought with us. Just at sunset the advance guard sighted the Boers, who had laagered for the night in a hollow at the foot of a chain of kopjes. Morant was excited and eager to make an attack. He sent Lieutenant Picton with a party of men on the right flank, but to Morant, in his excitement, the moments seemed hours. Before Picton could get his men into position, and just as I arrived at the foot of the kopje with the rearguard, Morant opened fire on the laager. I dismounted my men and hastened to the top. Looking down, I could see the camp fires and hear the Boers crying out, "Allamachta! Allamachta" ("God Almighty!"), and shouting to each other in great consternation. Ceasing fire, we moved on rapidly, and rushed the laager, only to find that the Boers had jumped on their horses and ridden away, leaving behind their waggons, blankets, and everything they possessed. Several dead and wounded horses were lying about, and underneath a waggon we found a Boer wounded in the heel. Lieutenant Morant insisted that he should be shot on the spot, but he was prevailed upon not to do this, as the firing might attract the Boers, who nearly doubled us in number, and it was necessary to withdraw to a safe position for the night. A Cape cart with mules inspanned was found in the laager; the prisoner, Visser by name, was put in it, and all drew back to a neighbouring kopje, where we bivouacked. Although tired out, there was no possibility of any sleep, as it was necessary to keep on the qui-vive in case the Beers should pay us a surprise visit. Outposts had to be visited to see that the men were on the alert. The night was intensely, cold, and we had had nothing to eat since leaving the mission station. We had travelled with stripped saddles to make it as light as possible for the horses. On this march I found strong coffee very sustaining, and I have often travelled all day on an occasional cup of this beverage. Early the following morning a native runner brought a message to Morant from Fort Edward requesting him to return with all speed. The fort, with only a few men in charge, was in danger of being attacked by a party of Boers who were in the neighbourhood. Our horses were about knocked up, so Morant decided to give up the pursuit of the Boers and return to the fort. Before setting out, he examined and questioned Visser, and found in his possession articles of clothing, a tunic called a "British Warm," and a pair of trousers which he identified as the property of the late Captain Hunt. He informed me and others that the first time we outspanned he would have Visser shot. After burning the waggons and collecting the oxen, we started on our homeward journey, I, as before, following with the rearguard. About 11 o'clock the patrol halted near Mameheila, on the Koodoo River. A beast was slaughtered here, and I broke my fast on a very tough piece of trek-ox steak. During the morning Lieutenants Morant and Handcock had discussed Visser's position, and had decided to shoot him as soon as we halted. Upon my arrival with the rearguard, Morant came to me and again informed me that it was his intention to have Visser shot. "This man," he said, "has been concerned in the murder of Captain Hunt; he has been captured wearing British uniform, and I have got orders direct from headquarters not to take prisoners, while only the other day Lord Kitchener sent out a proclamation to the effect that all Beers captured wearing khaki were to be summarily shot." I asked him to leave me out of it altogether, as I did not know anything about the orders, I had been such a short time there. Morant then walked away, and ordered Sergeant-Major Clarke to fall-in ten men for a firing party. Some of the men objected, and the sergeant-major came and asked me if I would speak to Morant on behalf of those men. I went to Morant as requested, but found him obdurate. "You didn't know Captain Hunt," he said, "and he was my best friend; if the men make any fuss, I will shoot the prisoner myself." After a little delay, men volunteered--"to get a bit of our own back," one remarked. Lieutenant Picton was placed in command of the firing party, and Visser was shot. I did not witness the execution or take any part whatever in it. To the best of my knowledge this was the first prisoner shot by the order of Lieutenant Morant, and the motive for the execution was purely that of retaliation for an outrage committed upon a British officer. War is calculated to make men's natures both callous and vengeful, and when civilised rules and customs are departed from on one side, reprisals are sure to follow on the other, and the shocking side of warfare in the shape of guerilla tactics is then seen. At such a time it is not fair to judge the participants by the hard and fast rules of citizen life or the strict moral codes of peace. It is necessary to imagine one's self amidst the same surroundings--in an isolated place, with the passions of war aroused, men half-starved, dangers constantly threatening from all quarters, and responsibilities crowding one upon another--to enable a fair decision to be reached. The intelligence agent, who had left us to raise the natives, now returned with several hundred savages, but as their services were not now required, they were fed, and, when they had held a war dance, were dispersed. Continuing our homeward journey, we arrived at Hay's store, 18 miles from Fort Edward, about midnight, and rested there until daylight. Mr. Hays was a British trader, and with his wife and family kept a store in a wild part of the Spelonken. He was well-known for his hospitality to our troops. After our departure a party of marauding Boers, who knew of this, swooped down upon him, and looted him of everything he possessed, even dragging the wedding ring from his wife's finger. There were numerous bands of these marauders in the district roving about, commandeering all they could lay their hands upon, wrecking trains, or doing any bushranging job that presented itself to them. When they were nearly starved, or sick, they would come in and surrender, and get fed up and looked after until well again, when they would take the first opportunity of breaking away and making a fresh start. CHAPTER X. BY ORDER--"NO QUARTER!" Upon arrival at Fort Edward on Sunday morning, we learned that a convoy had arrived the previous day from Pietersburg, in charge of Lieutenant Neel--just in time to assist Captain Taylor and the few men who had been left in driving back a strong force of Boers who had come up close to the fort. There had been some sharp fighting, one Carbineer had been wounded, and several horses shot. It was here that Captain Taylor shot a Kaffir for refusing to give him information regarding the movements of the Boers, for which act later on he was tried and acquitted. Lieutenant Neel remained at the fort for some days, and upon his return to Pietersburg was accompanied by Lieutenant Picton, who reported to the commanding officer and also to the commandant the whole of the facts regarding the shooting of Visser. No action was taken, not even a notice or message was sent intimating that such practices were to be discontinued. This tended to convince me that the orders and the interpretation of the orders regarding prisoners as transmitted to me by Lieutenant Morant were authentic, and that such proceedings were not only permitted, but were approved of by the headquarters authorities. After our return to the fort, it was decided to send a small detachment of the Carbineers to occupy and work round Reuter's Mission Station. I asked Lieutenant Morant to send me in charge, but he

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ultimately sent Lieutenant Hannam, as he said I was not sufficiently acquainted with the district. He added that in a month he would recall Hannam and send me in his place. Lieutenant Hannam captured a large number of prisoners and sent them in to Fort Edward. I can explain here how those infamous rumours gained currency as to the shooting of children by the Carbineers. A patrol of Lieutenant Hannam's men were out making a reconnaissance, when they suddenly came upon a Boer laager and opened fire. They heard women and children screathing, and ceased firing. Upon taking the laager they found that a child had been shot and two little girls slightly wounded. I afterwards escorted these prisoners to Pietersburg, and in conversation with the parents of the children they told me that they in no way reproached Lieutenant Hannam or his men for what had happened; they were themselves to blame for running away from their waggons when called upon to surrender. This is the only foundation for the wicked reports as to the wholesale shooting of women and children by the Carbineers. The day following Lieutenant Hannam's departure to the Mission Station, which was the 22nd August, a report reached Fort Edward that eight prisoners were being brought in. On the following morning Lieutenant Morant came to me and requested me to accompany him on patrol. A patrol subsequently set out, consisting of Lieutenants Morant, Handcock, and myself, Sergeant-Major Hammett (who had gone out with me to the Spelonken), and two troopers. We first called at the office of Captain Taylor. Morant dismounted and had a private interview with that officer; I was not informed as to the nature of it. I was not then on intimate terms with Lieutenant Morant; I had only met him for the first time a fortnight previously as my superior officer, and had recognised him as such, and during that fortnight I had been frequently away from the fort. We went on, and Morant said that it was his intention to have the prisoners shot. Both myself and Sergeant-Major Hammett asked Morant if he was sure he was doing right. He replied that he was quite justified in shooting the Boers; he had his orders, and he would rely upon us to obey him. I also afterwards remonstrated with him for having the prisoners brought in and shot so close to the fort, but he said it was a matter of indifference where they were shot. We met the patrol with the prisoners about six miles out. Morant at once took charge, and instructed the escort to go on ahead as advance guard. The prisoners were ordered to inspan and trek on to the fort. I rode on in front of the waggon, and I did not see any civilian speak to the prisoners as we were passing the mission hospital. When we had trekked on about three miles Morant stopped the waggon, called the men off the road, and questioned them. Upon his asking, "Have you any more information to give?" they were shot. One of them, a big, powerful Dutchman, made a rush at me and seized the end of my rifle, with the intention of taking it and shooting me, but I simplified matters by pulling the trigger and shooting him. I never had any qualms of conscience for having done so, as he was recognised by Ledeboer, the intelligence agent, as a most notorious scoundrel who had previously threatened to shoot him, and was the head of a band of marauders. By just escaping death in this tragedy I was afterwards sentenced to suffer death. I went on with the men, and we took with us the waggon and belongings, which we handed over to Captain Taylor. I then went on to the fort. Morant and Handcock remained behind to make arrangements for the burial of the bodies. About an hour afterwards Morant came in; a few minutes later he noticed a hooded buggy drawn by a pair of mules coming along the road at the foot of the fort, and going in the direction of Pietersburg. He immediately jumped on a horse, and rode down to see who it was, as no one was allowed to travel about the country without first getting permission to do so. When he returned he informed me that it was a missionary from Potgeiter's Rust returning home, and that he held a pass signed by Captain Taylor. Morant said that he had advised the missionary to wait until a convoy returned to Pietersburg, but he decided that he would go on alone. Morant then went away to see Captain Taylor. In the meantime Lieutenant Handcock returned, had his breakfast, and also went away again. I have no idea of their subsequent movements, for being tired out I went to my bungalow, and slept until lunch time. I lunched alone, which was not unusual, but Morant and Handcock returned in the evening for dinner. During this repast the guard reported that rockets were being sent up in the direction of Bristow's farm, about one mile away. Morant took them for distress signals, and ordered the troops to stand to arms. Within twenty minutes a patrol of forty mounted men had the farm-house surrounded, but, much to the chagrin of Morant, it was found that the "signals" were a few rockets that had been thoughtlessly let off to amuse the children at the farm. Nearly a week later, I, with Lieutenant Morant, was at Captain Taylor's office, when a neighbour came in and said there was a rumour abroad that a missionary had been killed on the road at Bandolier Kopjes, about 15 miles from Fort Edward, the most dangerous spot on the road to Pietersburg. I at once volunteered to take out a patrol and investigate. I was not permitted to go as far as Bandolier Kopjes, but was sent with half a dozen men to a farm-house five miles out to get what information I could, and was given orders by Lieutenant Morant not to go any further. Upon arrival at the farm I could glean nothing. I had all the natives brought up and questioned, but they did not know anything. I then went along the road to several kraals, but could get no news; I met a native post-boy with the mails from Pietersburg, and questioned him, but he knew nothing and had seen nothing along the road. I then returned to the Fort, and on the way back met Taylor and Morant. I informed them of my inability to get any further information, and expressed to them my opinion that it was only a Kaffir yarn. Two days later, however, Lieutenant Handcock was sent out to Bandolier Kopjes with a strong patrol to make a further search, and discovered the body of the missionary, his buggy, and his mules, some distance off the road. There was every indication that he had met his death by foul play. He had been shot in the breast, probably whilst sitting in his buggy; the mules, taking fright, had galloped off the road, throwing the missionary out as they travelled along. The buggy was found jammed between some trees and a telegraph post, with the pole broken. The mules had freed themselves, and were feeding about harnessed together. Lieutenant Handcock made arrangements for the burial of the missionary, and returned to the Fort, taking the mules with him. Much of my work while at Fort Edward consisted of escorting convoys with prisoners and refugees, who were being sent into the concentration camps at Pietersburg. I took them half way, and then handed them over to a patrol sent out from Pietersburg. During these trips I came in contact with many of the "Boers of the Veldt," or the Dopper class. I would often take a cup of coffee with them, and as many of them could speak a little English, they would pour out all their troubles to me. The women folk were eager to learn all about the refugee camp, asking would they be provided with food and clothing, and would the "Englisher" "give them schoens for the kinder?" This is the class of people that predominates in South Africa, and in my opinion there must be generations of purging, educating, and civilising before they will be capable of taking part

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in national life. They appear habitually to shun water, and never undress; as they go to bed, so they get up again--dirty, untidy, and unwashed. On one of these trips I became acquainted with a Dutchman who was employed by us as a transport rider. He had been fighting for his country at the outbreak of the war, but, tiring of it, had surrendered, and was afterwards employed by the Army Service Corps. In recounting his experience, he said that when he was first called out on commando he thought the war would only last a couple of months, as they would soon drive every Englishman out of the country. When leaving home he had promised his children that when he returned he would take them back a "little Englisher," which they could keep in a box, and feed on mealies and oats. After the first great reverses, this man and many more would have surrendered but for the lying statements made to them by their predikants and commandants, who would harangue them from a trek waggon with statements that thousands of English had been repulsed and driven into the sea; that foreign powers had sent assistance and had already landed; that the Boers' homes had been desolated, and that their wives and daughters in the refugee camps were being outraged, and distributed amongst the soldiers with their daily issue of rations. The effect of these speeches was to make the men fight on more doggedly and bitterly than ever, and it is not wonderful that the rules and customs of civilised war were sometimes departed from. The same man also told me that Kruger owed him £500 for the time he had been fighting with the Boers, and for the use of his waggon and oxen, and he asked me if I thought the English Government would pay him this amount. Much has been said and written regarding the concentration camps and their management. I was in personal contact with some of the people who went into them, and I am certain that these, at least, were never as well off before as when there. It was stated that unsanitary conditions existed, and I can sympathise with the people who tried to make those conditions better. The task would be, I think, an impossible one, as most of the camp inmates had lived all their lives without even knowing what sanitation or cleanliness meant. Perhaps the mortality amongst children was greater in the camps than on the farms, especially if an epidemic of measles or diphtheria occurred, as the children mixed more with each other, and it would be difficult to isolate all cases; or perhaps there were more opportunities for a death to excite attention than there would be on a farm far out on the veldt. The majority of the inmates looked upon camp-life as a picnic. A few who had lived a sort of gipsy life previously were discontented, and anxious to start roving again; otherwise there was no cause for complaint. CHAPTER XI. MORANT'S CREDITABLE EXPLOIT. About a fortnight after the finding of the body of the missionary, and while I was away from Fort Edward on convoy escort, three armed Boers were reported coming in. Upon Lieutenant Morant being informed, he went out, taking with him Lieutenant Handcock and two men. These Boers were met and shot. The same day Major Lenehan arrived at Fort Edward from Pietersburg; he found the merry-hearted Morant, whom he had known for a number of years, a changed man. He was now gloomy and morose, and was still brooding over the manner of the death of Captain Hunt. Morant fancied that if he had been out with Hunt it would not have happened. The major thought, as did others, that Morant's mind had become unhinged with grief. When I returned from Pietersburg, about two days later, I learned that two strong forces of Boers were reported in the district, and the outlook at Fort Edward was not a bright one. Field-Cornet Torn Kelly, a notorious Boer Irregular leader, and a great fighter, was moving in from the Portuguese territory, and it was reported that he had several guns with him. Commandant Beyers, with a strong force, was threatening on another side. Morant had been wishing for months for a chance to capture Tom Kelly, and he now entreated Major Lenehan to allow him to go in pursuit. The major hesitated for some time, but finally gave permission to go. This brightened Morant up considerably. On Monday, 16th September, Morant and myself left the Fort with thirty men in search of Kelly, proceeding in the direction of the Birthday Mine. We arrived there three days later, and waited for the scouts to come in and report the locality of Kelly's laager. Early on Saturday morning we started off again. Owing to the rough nature of the country we would have to travel over, we decided to leave behind all stores, taking with us only two days' rations, intending to live after that on any game we could shoot. Pushing on, we reached Banniella's (Kaffir) Kraal, within two miles of Kelly's laager, and about 150 miles from Fort Edward, late on Sunday evening. We dismounted, and left our horses here. The natives in formed us that Kelly had been there that day drinking palm wine with them, and had only left a couple of hours before; he had told them that if a thousand Englishmen came to his laager he would wipe them all out. After warning the natives under penalty of death not to move away from the kraal, we proceeded on foot to the laager, which we reached at midnight. The camp was situated in a small clearing, among dense scrub, on the bank of the Thsombo River, and close to the Portuguese border. Halting within 300 yards of it, Morant and an intelligence agent named Constanteon made a careful reconnaisance, leaving me in charge of the men, some of whom were so fatigued that they almost immediately fell asleep. One man, hearing a noise in the bush and leaves rustling, reported to me that he had seen a lion, and asked if he could shoot it. I knew that if we were successful in securing the lion we would lose Kelly, so I peremptorily ordered him to preserve strict silence until the laager was taken. Morant returned shortly after, having found out the exact situation of the waggons and surroundings. He divided the patrol into three parties, and posted one on the right flank with Serjeant-Major Hammett, about 150 yards off; he and I took the others into the river bed, which ran under a steep bank around the waggons. The night was intensely cold, but we lay there within 50 yards of them until the first streak of dawn. During the night a dog scented us and started to bark; a Boer got up and gave it a kick to quieten it, at which Morant remarked, "A man never knows his luck in South Africa." About four o'clock a Kaffir got up and lit a fire to make early morning coffee. We then charged the camp, shouting "Hands up" in the nearest approach to Dutch at our command. The Boers were taken completely by surprise. As there were women there we refrained from shooting. Morant rushed to Kelly's tent, and called upon him to surrender, and when he showed his head through the doorway he was looking straight down the barrel of Morant's rifle. The others, as they rolled from under the waggons, put up their hands very sulkily, while we collected the rifles. Kelly was a fine type of a man, over six feet in height, and about 55 years of age; his father was an Irishman and his mother a Dutch woman. When I saw him again he was sitting in a Boer chair beside the fire; it had completely staggered him to realise that he was a prisoner, he who had boasted so often that he would give every Englishman a warm reception who came after him, and he had been taken without an opportunity of making the slightest resistance. The talk about the guns was all bluff. One of our troopers went up and asked him, "Where are the big guns?" He replied, snappishly, "Don't talk to me, young man, I'm a prisoner." After collecting all the

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prisoners, we got together all the arms and ammunition, which were nearly all British, and sent a party back to the kraal for the horses. We then spanned in the oxen, and started on our return journey to Fort Edward. As the country was very rough, and there were no roads, it took us four days to get back to the Birthday Mine. When we outspanned on the third night the horse-guard reported several horses missing. My own spare horse being amongst them, on the following morning I left the convoy and returned with three men to the site of the previous outspan, and after scouring the country all day found the missing horses. We got back late the same night to the place we had started from in the morning; we had used up all our rations, and had been living for the last four days on what we could shoot in the way of game. Leaving before daylight, we reached the Birthday Mine about 10 a.m.; finding the caretaker at home, four hungry men made great havoc upon his stock of provisions, besides commandeering his mealies for our horses. After a short rest we hurried on to overtake the convoy, which we came up with late in the evening, having travelled 60 miles since morning; the last 70 miles was covered in two days, as we feared that Commandant Beyers, who was in the district, would try to intercept us. Our rate of travelling with ox teams surprised the Dutchmen. Ten miles a day is their average trek, so that 35 and 40 miles a day was naturally regarded by them as a "bi goed trek" (very great trek). When we arrived at Fort Edward two of Kelly's daughters left the waggon. I asked them where they were going. They replied, "Home to get the house ready"--not knowing that their home was now a heap of ruins. I could not tell them, as I knew the effect it would have on them. After fighting in the earlier stages of the war, Commandant Kelly had returned to his farm, which was situated about half a mile from Fort Edward. As soon as the Carbineers went to the district, he went off again on trek with his family rather than surrender. There were a number of other farmers living quietly around there. They had been frequently visited by Boer commandos, and all their horses and mealies or maize corn that could be found had been commandeered. From the time we left in search of Kelly to our return to Fort Edward was exactly a fortnight; his pursuit and capture was the last official military duty of Lieutenant Morant. He received the following message from Colonel Hall:--"Very glad to hear of your success, and should like to have an account of what must have been a good bit of work." Morant's career in South Africa was adorned by not a few actions such as this, but accounts of them were never published broadcast to his credit, to balance the stories scattered to his detriment. After handing over Kelly's commando intact to the Pietersburg authorities, Morant was granted a fortnight's leave, and went to Pretoria. Just about this time Captain Taylor was recalled. Three weeks later Morant's detachment was relieved at Fort Edward, and returned to Pietersburg. On 21st October Major Lenehan, myself, Lieutenant Handcock, and all non-commissioned officers and men who had been on service in the district left Spelonken, and arrived at Fort Klipdan, 15 miles out of Pietersburg, on the evening of the 22nd. The following morning we made an eventful entry into the garrison. I was riding ahead with the advance guard, and when about three miles from the town I was met by two mounted officers, who inquired if I was Lieutenant Witton. Upon replying in the affirmative, they informed me that the garrison commandant wished to see me. One of the officers accompanied me into Pietersburg, and took me direct to the commandant's office, where I met Major Neatson, staff officer to Colonel Hall, who merely asked me if I was Lieutenant Witton. Upon replying again in the affirmative, he gave the officer who accompanied me some instructions. Leaving the commandant's office, I was requested to accompany him to the Garrison Artillery Fort. The proceedings seemed rather strange to me, as I had not the slightest conception of what was about to take place. On my arrival at the fort I was left with Lieutenant Beattie, who could not or would not enlighten me. A little later Major Neatson came to me and informed me that I was under close arrest pending a court of inquiry. The officer commanding the fort then informed me that I was a military prisoner under his charge, and if I attempted to escape, or went outside the wire entanglements, I would be shot; that I was not to communicate with anyone outside, and all correspondence was to be sent through him. At this time I had not the faintest notion of the charges against me, or for what reason I was made a prisoner. I learned afterwards that Major Lenehan, Captain Taylor, Lieutenants Morant, Handcock, Picton, Hannam, and Sergeant-Major Hammett were in the same predicament as myself, and were located in different parts of the garrison. Major Lenehan was with the 2nd Wiltshire Regiment, Captain Taylor and Lieutenant Handcock in blockhouses close to the Wiltshire lines, Lieutenant Hannam and Sergeant-Major Hammett at the garrison prison, Lieutenant Picton with the Royal Field Artillery, Lieutenant Morant first with the Gordon Highlanders, and afterwards at the garrison prison. After being a fortnight in close confinement I was called upon to attend a sitting of the court of inquiry, and for the first time I became aware of the nature of the charges against me. A great deal of pride is evinced in what is called British justice, but after that court of inquiry I doubted if such a thing existed. This piece of history could well be dated back to the days of the Star Chamber or the Spanish Inquisition. The president of the court appeared to be Colonel Carter, whilst Captain Evans acted as his secretary. Both belonged to the Wiltshire Regiment. There was also another member, belonging to the same regiment. He was constituted a sort of private detective to round up witnesses to give evidence to meet necessary requirements; he employed as an understrapper a corporal who had once been a South African Republic detective, and was afterwards a trooper in the Carbineers. He had been arrested several times whilst with the corps, and on one occasion was reprimanded for selling British uniform. He expected at the close of the case to be rewarded with a farm. His hostility and bitterness can be imagined when be openly boasted that he would be willing to walk barefooted from Spelonken to Pietersburg, 90 miles, to be in a firing party to shoot Morant and Handcock. Upon my appearance at the court, which was held in a tent close to the commandant's office, the president read out that I was charged with complicity in the death of a prisoner of war named Visser, with complicity in the death of eight others, names unknown, also with complicity in the death of C. H. D. Hesse, a German missionary. I was asked to make a statement regarding these charges. I said that any part I had taken in the shooting of Boers was under the direct orders of a superior officer; as to the death of the missionary, it was quite a mystery to me, but I was confident that it could not be charged to the Carbineers. I was astounded to hear that his death was imputed to Lieutenant Handcock, as I had been frequently in his company while at Spelonken, and had not the slightest reason to connect him with it. I proved even to the satisfaction of that court that I knew nothing of this case, and the charge was immediately withdrawn. I always understood that a man was innocent until he was proved to be guilty; that position was here reversed, and we were adjudged guilty until we proved we were innocent. CHAPTER XII. ORDERED FOR COURT-MARTIAL. It appears that the

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ground for these remarkable proceedings was that a report, which had originated through a Kaffir boy, had reached the German authorities that a subject of theirs had been shot by British troops. Redress was demanded, a penalty must be paid, and the result was the arrest of the officers of the Carbineers as stated. It has been said that the missionary was shot because he was going into Pietersburg to inform the authorities there about the shooting of prisoners, but there was no necessity to shoot him on that account, as the authorities there were aware of the facts. It was customary in outlying districts during the latter stages of the war to shoot as many of the enemy as possible. Vaguely-worded orders were issued that "All officers should strive to the utmost to bring the war to a speedy termination;" "All officers must use discretion in dealing with the white flag;" or, as one officer said, he was told to "clear the district, and not to be too keen on filling burgher camps." These orders were interpreted in only one way by the officers, and that was "No quarter, no prisoners." On the morning I attended a sitting of the court a German farmer from near Duival's Kloof, who was alleged to have seen the body of Captain Hunt, was being examined. "Did you notice any marks on his face?" he was asked, "There was a graze over his eye, which might have been caused by coming in contact with the branch of a tree at night time," was the reply. "Did you notice any extravasation of blood about the neck?" I could see the man did not know what was meant by extravasation of blood, but he replied in the negative. "In your opinion, then, Captain Hunt's body had not been maltreated ?" "Yes." It is reasonable to conclude that this man, being a German, would be a biassed witness, and, again, that he would not dare to give evidence favourable to British troops, as his farm and possessions were at the mercy of every Boer commando that came into the district. Notwithstanding this, I shall prove later that this man's evidence--taken at this court, and not at the court-martial--was accepted as correct, as against that given by a clergyman and a British officer. When the men of the Carbineers were being examined they were questioned in a most high-handed manner, and in some cases questions and answers would be taken down in writing without their knowledge; a day or so later they would be sent for again, and a long statement read over to them, which they were ordered to sign. Some of the statements were made by men who knew nothing whatever personally, but had only heard the case was as they represented; some even had merely heard that someone else had heard, and so on. These men's statements were taken as evidence. Others who were called, and said truly that they knew nothing, were treated as hostile, and were bullied and badgered, and even threatened with arrest. One man was actually sent to the garrison prison, and detained there until he was removed to the hospital suffering from brain fever. In addition to the men of our own regiment, evidence was taken from Dutchmen, Germans, Africanders, and Kaffirs. When Lieutenant Handcock was brought before the court he was staggered at the charges laid against him; it seemed as if he were charged with the murder of every Dutchman that had been shot in South Africa, as well as that of a German missionary. He was so completely ignorant of military law and court proceedings that he asked the president what would be the best course for him to pursue; he was advised to make a clean breast of everything, as the responsibility would rest solely on Lieutenant Morant. He declined to make any statement whatsoever, and was sent again for a considerable time into close confinement, even the military chaplain not being allowed to see him. Is it possible to conceive such an iniquity perpetrated in these days of supposed civilisation?--a man charged with numerous murders shut up alone, without a soul from whom he could seek advice; condemned before he was tried. There could be only one ending; Handcock's mind gave way, and when he was not responsible for his actions he was forced into making a statement which incriminated himself and Lieutenant Morant. This court of inquisition sat daily for nearly a month, and was supposed to be held in camera, yet statements made during the day, with additions, were freely discussed at garrison mess, and were the common talk of the town during the evening. Captain Taylor's charge-sheet was, I believe, a notable one, and almost identical with that of Lieutenant Handcock--if not for the actual crimes, for instigating them. The statements made by some of his men would, I am sure, furnish interesting reading; the majority of the charges against him were, however, withdrawn. After twelve weeks' solitary confinement Handcock was allowed to make arrangements for his defence. Upon being made aware of his position by his friends, he refuted his previous statement, and said that he had only made it to please Colonel Carter; it was too late then, however, as I was informed on good authority that a copy of the evidence taken at the court had been furnished to the German Government. With me, who was also kept in solitary confinement, time just passed on; I waited, wondering what the future would bring forth. I was in no way worried, because I could not think that I was in any way culpable for what had happened in the Spelonken district. Towards the end of December I was again requested to attend a sitting of the court of inquiry; on this occasion Lieutenants Morant, Handcock, and Picton were present. Morant appeared gloomy and irritable. The past months of close confinement had greatly impaired his health, physically and mentally, and he looked upon current events from a very pessimistic standpoint; Handcock was even more silent than usual, and looked much worried and dejected. We were informed by the president that we would be tried by court-martial at an early date, and the statements of the witnesses for the prosecution were read over to us. Morant listened in austere silence to the end, then, springing to his feet, exclaimed, "Look here, Colonel, you have got us all here now; take us out and crucify us at once, for as sure as God made pippins, if you let one man off he'll yap." The following afternoon I attended the court to hand in names of witnesses I required for my defence. I requested to be allowed to ascertain if Mr. Rail, of Capetown, would act as prisoner's friend or counsel for me at the forthcoming trial. Captain Evans was there alone; he was considered the best authority on military law in the garrison, and no one could have a better grasp of the case than he, as he had attended every sitting of the court as secretary. In conversation with him in regard to obtaining counsel and witnesses, he informed me that he had gone into my case thoroughly, and he considered that I had taken such a subordinate part that it was not necessary for me to go to the trouble of bringing counsel or witnesses from Capetown. "You have nothing to fear or trouble about," he said, "you are bound to be exonerated." Confident of a speedy and honourable acquittal, I made no further efforts for my defence. Shortly after the conclusion of the court of inquiry the Bushveldt Carbineers Regiment was disbanded. Men who were required as witnesses for the prosecution were given their discharges and as much as £1 per day detention allowance to remain in Pietersburg. The remainder were discharged and sent out of the district, as though purposely to obstruct the course of justice, and when certain men, most important witnesses for the defence, were asked for, the authorities at first refused to make any inquiries as to their whereabouts, and stated that the expense of securing their

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return would have to be borne by the defence. This was acquiesced in, and later on the authorities declared that they were unable to trace the men asked for. Yet at this very time a witness most important to me was travelling by permission of the Pretoria authorities on the Pietersburg line, and had just visited Nylstroom. On the 15th January, just twelve weeks from the date of my arrest, I was served with the charge-sheets. Case one was that I did when on active service commit murder by inciting, instigating, and commanding certain troopers to kill and murder one named Visser. Case two was that when on active service I committed the offence of murder by inciting, instigating, and commanding certain troopers to kill and murder eight men, names unknown. I was warned to appear at a general court-martial at 9 o'clock the following morning. I was then granted the liberty, under proper escort, to visit or be visited by any of the other prisoners. I went straight to Lieutenant Morant, and asked him if he knew anything about a court-martial, or had taken any steps towards a defence. Producing my charge-sheets, I informed him that I was charged with nine murders. "Only nine!" he ejaculated, "that is nothing; I am charged with twelve, and an infanticide." The last three prisoners shot by him had been entered in his charge-sheet as two men and a boy. The "boy" was about 18 or 20, and had been right through the war and seen more active service than many a veteran soldier, or than nine-tenths of the Carbineers. This was the first time I had spoken to Lieutenant Morant since my arrest. I then learned that Major Thomas, a member of the New South Wales Mounted Rifles, and an Australian solicitor, whom Major Lenehan had secured to undertake his own defence, would act for us all. I was unable to interview Major Thomas, who had arrived that morning, as he was all day closeted with Major Lenehan. The following morning, about 8.30 o'clock, he paid me a hurried visit, which lasted for a few minutes only. In this time I briefly detailed to him the part I had been compelled to take, which had resulted in the charges now preferred against me. I was then escorted to the court-house in the town. Court-martial held at Pietersburg, Transvaal, on the 16th day of January, 1902, by order of Lord Kitchener of Khartoum, commanding the forces of South Africa. The court was constituted as follows:--The president was Lieutenant-Colonel Denny, 2nd Northampton Regiment. The members were Brevet-Major J. Little, same regiment; Brevet-Major Thomas and Major Ousely, of the Royal Field Artillery; Captain Brown, of the 2nd Wiltshire Regiment; Captain Marshall, 1st Gordon Highlanders; Captain Nicholson, 1st Cameron Highlanders. Waiting members: Captain Matcham, 2nd Wiltshire Regiment; Captain Jobson, Royal Garrison Artillery. Major C. S. Copeland, 2nd Northampton Regiment, acted as Judge Advocate; Captain Bums-Begg as Crown Prosecutor. Major Thomas, New South Wales Mounted Rifles, was counsel for prisoners. After the preliminary proceedings of the court and the swearing of the members, an adjournment was made until the following morning to enable a telegram to be sent to headquarters asking authority for Major Thomas to undertake our defence. The necessary authority being obtained, the court assembled the following morning, and the first charge, that of murdering a prisoner named Visser, was proceeded with. On the plea of "Not guilty," witnesses for the prosecution were called. These described the fight at Duival's Kloof, and how Captain Hunt was killed, and the state of his body when found, and also gave particulars as to the capture of Visser, who was wearing portion of Captain Hunt's clothing. An intelligence agent named Ledeboer deposed that he informed Visser of his position, and that he was condemned to be shot. Upon being cross-examined, several of the witnesses stated that Captain Hunt had previously given them orders not to take prisoners, and they had been reprimanded for bringing them in. For the defence, Lieutenant Morant stated that he had been under Captain Hunt, clearing the northern district of Boers. It was regular guerilla warfare; Captain Hunt acted on orders he got in Pretoria, which were in effect to clear Spelonken and take no prisoners. Captain Hunt had told him that Colonel Hamilton, military secretary, had given him the orders at Lord Kitchener's private house where he had gone with a pair of polo ponies, just prior to his departure for Spelonken. All the detachment knew of the order given by Captain Hunt not to bring in prisoners. After the death of Captain Hunt he took command and went out with reinforcements, and when he learned the circumstances of his death, and how he had been maltreated, he told the others that he had previously disregarded the orders of Captain Hunt, but in future he would carry them out, as he considered they were lawful. The orders had only been transmitted verbally by Captain Hunt, and he had quoted the actions of Kitchener's Horse and Strathcona's Horse as precedents; he never questioned the validity of the orders, he was certain they were correct. He had shot no prisoner before Visser, and the facts in Visser's case had been reported to Captain Taylor, also to Major Lenehan and Colonel Hall. "Was your court at the trial of Visser constituted like this?" asked the President, "and did you observe paragraph ---- of ---- section of the King's Regulations?" "Was it like this!" fiercely answered Morant. "No; it was not quite so handsome. As to rules and sections, we had no Red Book, and knew nothing about them. We were out fighting the Boers, not sitting comfortably behind barb-wire entanglements; we got them and shot them under Rule 303." Morant made a plucky defence; he openly admitted the charges, and took all responsibility upon himself, pleading custom of the war and orders from headquarters. He did not express any regret, or have any fear as to what his fate might be. Driven almost to desperation, and smarting under the recent unjust acts of the court of inquiry, he, in his usual hot-headed manner, made disclosures which he believed would in all probability "stagger humanity." He vowed that he would have Lord Kitchener put into the box and cross-examined as to the orders given to officers, and his methods of conducting the war. The folly of all this was apparent to everyone, as Lord Kitchener held Morant's life in his hands; but Morant would not be restrained, and was prepared to suffer. Lieutenant Picton was the next witness called for the defence. He had served in the war for two years, and had gained a distinguished conduct medal. He had commanded the firing party that had shot Visser, and had carried out the execution in obedience to Morant's orders. He had reported the matter to Major Lenehan and Colonel Hall. He also had received orders from Captain Hunt not to take prisoners. Lieutenant Handcock corroborated previous evidence as to the reasons for executing Visser, and also as to the orders not to take prisoners. I also supported the evidence as to the information received from the Rev. F. L. Reuter about the maltreatment of Captain Hunt. The Rev. F. L. Reuter, missionary, deposed that the bodies of Captain Hunt and Sergeant Eland were brought to his place; that of the late Captain Hunt was much mutilated. The neck appeared to have been broken, and the face bore marks of boot-heels, and was much bruised; the body had been stripped, and the legs gashed. Dr. Johnson testified that he was of opinion from the evidence that the injuries to Captain Hunt's body had been caused before death. Captain Taylor stated that he had received messages from the Boers through natives that if he fell into their hands he would be given four days to die, which