London to Ladysmith via Pretoria, Winston Churchill [digital ebook reader txt] 📗

This small book is mainly a personal record of my adventures and impressions during the first five months of the African War. It may also be found to give a tolerably coherent account of the operations conducted by Sir Redvers Buller for the Relief of Ladysmith. The correspondence of which it is mainly composed appeared in the columns of the Morning Post newspaper, and I propose, if I am not interrupted by the accidents of war, to continue the series of letters. The stir and tumult of a camp do not favour calm or sustained thought, and whatever is written herein must be regarded simply as the immediate effect produced by men powerfully moved, and scenes swiftly changing upon what I hope is a truth-seeking mind.

The fact that a man's life depends upon my discretion compels me to omit an essential part of the story of my escape from the Boers; but if the book and its author survive the war, and when the British flag is firmly planted at Bloemfontein and Pretoria, I shall hasten to fill the gap in the narrative.

WINSTON S. CHURCHILL.
March 10, 1900.

DEDICATION

INTRODUCTORY NOTE

MAPS AND PLANS

CHAPTER I.  STEAMING SOUTH
R.M.S. 'Dunottar Castle,' October 26 and October 29, 1899

CHAPTER II.  THE STATE OF THE GAME
Capetown; November 1, 1899

CHAPTER III.  ALONG THE SOUTHERN FRONTIER
East London: November 5, 1899

CHAPTER IV.  IN NATAL
Estcourt: November 6, 1899

CHAPTER V.  A CRUISE IN THE ARMOURED TRAIN
Estcourt: November 9, 1899

CHAPTER VI.  DISTANT GUNS
Estcourt: November 10, 1899

CHAPTER VII.  THE FATE OF THE ARMOURED TRAIN
Pretoria: November 20, 1899

CHAPTER VIII.  PRISONERS OF WAR
Pretoria: November 24, 1899

CHAPTER IX.  THROUGH THE DUTCH CAMPS
Pretoria: November 30, 1899

CHAPTER X.  IN AFRIKANDER BONDS
Pretoria: December 3, 1899

CHAPTER XI.  I ESCAPE FROM THE BOERS
Lourenço Marques: December 22, 1899

CHAPTER XII.  BACK TO THE BRITISH LINES
Frere: December 24, 1899

CHAPTER XIII.  CHRISTMAS AND NEW YEAR
Frere: January 4, 1900

CHAPTER XIV.  A MILITARY DEMONSTRATION AND SOME GOOD NEWS
Chieveley: January 8, 1900

CHAPTER XV.  THE DASH FOR POTGIETER'S FERRY
Spearman's Hill: January 13, 1900

CHAPTER XVI.  TRICHARDT'S DRIFT AND THE AFFAIR OF ACTON HOMES
Venter's Spruit: January 22, 1900

CHAPTER XVII.  THE BATTLE OF SPION KOP
Venter's Spruit: January 25, 1900

CHAPTER XVIII.  THROUGH THE FIVE DAYS' ACTION
Venter's Spruit: January 25, 1900

CHAPTER XIX.  A FRESH-EFFORT AND AN ARMY CHAPLAIN
Spearman's Hill: February 4, 1900

CHAPTER XX.  THE COMBAT OF VAAL KRANTZ
General Buller's Headquarters: February 9, 1900

CHAPTER XXI.  HUSSAR HILL
General Buller's Headquarters: February 15, 1900

CHAPTER XXII.  THE ENGAGEMENT OF MONTE CRISTO
Cingolo Neck: February 19, 1900

CHAPTER XXIII.  THE PASSAGE OF THE TUGELA
Hospital-ship 'Maine': March 4, 1900

CHAPTER XXIV.  THE BATTLE OF PIETERS: THE THIRD DAY
Hospital-ship 'Maine': March 5, 1900

CHAPTER XXV.  UPON MAJUBA DAY
Commandant's Office, Durban: March 6, 1900

CHAPTER XXVI.  THE RELIEF OF LADYSMITH
Commandant's Office, Durban: March 9, 1900

CHAPTER XXVII.  AFTER THE SIEGE
Durban: March 10, 1900

MAPS

MAP OF MR. CHURCHILL'S ROUTE

THE THEATRE OF THE OPERATIONS IN NATAL

MAP OF THE OPERATIONS OF THE NATAL FIELD ARMY
FROM JANUARY 11 TO FEBRUARY 9, INCLUDING:
THE CAPTURE OF POTGIETER'S FERRY, JANUARY 11
THE PASSAGE OF THE TUGELA AT TRICHARDT'S DRIFT, JANUARY 17
THE AFFAIR OF ACTON HOMES, JANUARY 18
THE ACTION OF VENTER'S SPRUIT, JANUARY 20 AND 21
THE BATTLE OF SPION KOP, JANUARY 24; AND
THE COMBAT OF VAAL KRANTZ, FEBRUARY 6, 7, AND 8

MAP OF THE OPERATIONS OF THE NATAL FIELD ARMY
FROM FEBRUARY 14 TO 28, INCLUDING:
THE RECONNAISSANCE AND CAPTURE OF HUSSAR HILL, FEBRUARY 14
THE CAPTURE OF CINGOLO, FEBRUARY 17
THE ENGAGEMENT OF MONTE CRISTO, FEBRUARY I8
OCCUPATION OF THE HLANGWANI PLATEAU, FEBRUARY 19 AND 20; AND
THE BATTLE OF PIETERS FEBRUARY 21 TO 27

PLANS

THE STATES MODEL SCHOOLS
POTGIETER'S FERRY
POSITION AT MONTE CRISTO
THE COLENSO POSITION

STEAMING SOUTH

R.M.S. 'Dunottar Castle,' at sea: October 26, 1899.

The last cry of 'Any more for the shore?' had sounded, the last good-bye had been said, the latest pressman or photographer had scrambled ashore, and all Southampton was cheering wildly along a mile of pier and promontory when at 6 P.M., on October 14, the Royal Mail steamer 'Dunottar Castle' left her moorings and sailed with Sir Redvers Buller for the Cape. For a space the decks remained crowded with the passengers who, while the sound of many voices echoed in their ears, looked back towards the shores swiftly fading in the distance and the twilight, and wondered whether, and if so when, they would come safe home again; then everyone hurried to his cabin, arranged his luggage, and resigned himself to the voyage.

What an odious affair is a modern sea journey! In ancient times there were greater discomforts and perils; but they were recognised. A man took ship prepared for the worst. Nowadays he expects the best as a matter of course, and is, therefore, disappointed. Besides, how slowly we travel! In the sixteenth century nobody minded taking five months to get anywhere. But a fortnight is a large slice out of the nineteenth century; and the child of civilisation, long petted by Science, impatiently complains to his indulgent guardian of all delay in travel, and petulantly calls on her to complete her task and finally eliminate the factor of distance from human calculations. A fortnight is a long time in modern life. It is also a long time in modern war—especially at the beginning. To be without news for a fortnight at any time is annoying. To be without news for a fortnight now is a torture. And this voyage lasts more than a fortnight! At the very outset of our enterprise we are compelled to practise Mr. Morley's policy of patience.

We left London amid rumours of all kinds. The Metropolis was shrouded in a fog of credulous uncertainty, broken only by the sinister gleam of the placarded lie or the croak of the newsman. Terrible disasters had occurred and had been contradicted; great battles were raging—unconfirmed; and beneath all this froth the tide of war was really flowing, and no man could shut his eyes to grave possibilities. Then the ship sailed, and all was silence—a heaving silence. But Madeira was scarcely four days' journey. There we should find the answers to many questions. At Madeira, however, we learned nothing, but nothing, though satisfactory, is very hard to understand. Why did they declare war if they had nothing up their sleeves? Why are they wasting time now? Such were the questions. Then we sailed again, and again silence shut down, this time, however, on a more even keel.

Speculation arises out of ignorance. Many and various are the predictions as to what will be the state of the game when we shall have come to anchor in Table Bay. Forecasts range from the capture of Pretoria by Sir George White and the confinement of President Kruger in the deepest level beneath the Johannesburg Exchange, on the one hand, to the surrender of Cape Town to the Boers, the proclamation of Mr. Schreiner as King of South Africa, and a fall of two points in Rand Mines on the other. Between these wild extremes all shades of opinion are represented. Only one possibility is unanimously excluded—an inconclusive peace. There are on board officers who travelled this road eighteen years ago with Lord Roberts, and reached Cape Town only to return by the next boat. But no one anticipates such a result this time.

Monotony is the characteristic of a modern voyage, and who shall describe it? The lover of realism might suggest that writing the same paragraph over and over again would enable the reader to experience its weariness, if he were truly desirous of so doing. But I hesitate to take such a course, and trust that some of these lines even once repeated may convey some inkling of the dulness of the days. Monotony of view—for we live at the centre of a complete circle of sea and sky; monotony of food—for all things taste the same on board ship; monotony of existence—for each day is but a barren repetition of the last; all fall to the lot of the passenger on great waters. It were malevolent to try to bring the realisation home to others. Yet all earthly evils have their compensations, and even monotony is not without its secret joy. For a time we drop out of the larger world, with its interests and its obligations, and become the independent citizens of a tiny State:—a Utopian State where few toil and none go hungry—bounded on all sides by the sea and vassal only to the winds and waves. Here during a period which is too long while it lasts, too short when it is over, we may placidly reflect on the busy world that lies behind and the tumult that is before us. The journalists read books about South Africa; the politician—were the affair still in the domain of words—might examine the justice of the quarrel. The Headquarter Staff pore over maps or calculate the sizes of camps and entrenchments; and in the meantime the great ship lurches steadily forward on her course, carrying to the south at seventeen miles an hour schemes and intentions of war.

But let me record the incidents rather than their absence. One day the first shoal of flying fish is seen—a flight of glittering birds that, flushed by the sudden approach of the vessel, skim away over the waters and turn in the cover of a white-topped wave. On another we crossed the Equator. Neptune and his consort boarded us near the forecastle and paraded round the ship in state. Never have I seen such a draggle-tailed divinity. An important feature in the ritual which he prescribes is the shaving and ducking of all who have not passed the line before. But our