The Romance of Modern Sieges

The hours of that day went on, with sniping from all sides. Sometimes the rebels would come out into the open to challenge a fight, but the machine guns made them aware that boldness was not the best policy.

At night, when our men flung themselves down to rest, the whole sky was lit up with the fire of the Hausa cantonments and of the town. Tongues of fire were leaping up to the skies on all sides, lighting up the horrors of the scene around, affrighting the women and children, and adding to the anxiety of all.

Night at Kumassi was not a time of quiet repose; the incessant chatter of the men and women just outside the walls, the yelling and squealing of children, all made sleep difficult. And there was ever the thought underlying all that to-morrow might be the end, that the fort might be rushed by numbers.

But, as it turned out, the 26th dawned quietly. So, later in the day, a strong escort of Hausas was sent to the hospital to recover, if possible, the drugs and medical stores which had been abandoned through lack of carriers when the sick were brought into the fort. Fortunately, the rebels had left the drugs and stores untouched, and they were brought in with thankful alacrity.

The next night there was a hurricane of wind rushing through the forest trees and drenching the poor refugees, who tried to light fires to keep themselves warm.

“There was a dear old Hausa sentry on the veranda near my bedroom, who regarded me as his special charge. On this occasion, and on others, when my curiosity prompted me to go on the veranda to see what was happening, this old man would push me back, saying in very broken English, ‘Go to room – Ashanti man come – very bad. You no come out, miss.’”

It had been hoped that by the 29th of April the Lagos Hausas would have arrived to rescue them, but they did not come, and the rebels fired the hospital. Not liking our shells bursting amongst them, the Ashantis, instead of retiring, swarmed out into the open, and advanced upon the fort. The refugees were cowering down close to the walls, and around them were the Hausa outposts ready with their rifles. In the fort were the gunners standing to their guns. As the rebels came on, jumping and shouting, and dancing and firing, the Maxims opened upon them; still they came on, and now the Hausa outposts took up the fire. At last the fight became a hand-to-hand struggle, and the guns in the fort had to cease firing, lest they should hit friend and foe alike. Then some 200 loyal natives, led by Captain Armitage, sallied out to the fight. “At their head were their chiefs, prominent amongst whom was the young King of Aguna, dressed in his fetish war-coat, in the form of a ‘jumper,’ and hung back and front with fetish charms made from snake and other skins. He also wore a pair of thick leather boots, and where these ended his black legs began, and continued until they met well above the knee a short trouser of coloured cotton. He also wore a fierce-looking head-dress, and carried war charms made of elephant tails. Proudly and well did he bear himself; and at last, to our joy, a great cheer rose in the distance, and proclaimed that the enemy were retiring. Soon King Aguna came back, triumphantly carried on the shoulders of two of his warriors to the gate of the fort, where he met with a great ovation from his ‘ladies,’ who flocked round him, pressing forward to shake his hand and congratulate him upon the victory.” So the day was won, and with the loss of only one man killed and three wounded, as the rebels fired over our heads.

Captain Middlemist had been too ill to take the command, and it devolved upon Captain G. Marshall, Royal West Kent Regiment, who, after his severe exertions, suddenly succumbed, and was brought into quarters half delirious. The heat of the sun, the excitement, and the work had been too much for him; fortunately, he was well again the next day.

By this victory the rebels had been driven out of Kumassi and across the swamps; they had left behind large supplies of food and war stores, which the garrison secured; even the refugees outside the walls began to smile and sing. It is astonishing how these children of Nature suddenly change from the depth of woe to an ecstasy and delirium of delight.

But where were the Lagos Hausas all this time?

Four o’clock came, five o’clock came, and still no sign of their arriving. Anxious faces scanned the Cape Coast road. Something must have happened to them; they had been met, checked, repulsed.

But at half-past five firing was heard in the forest. “There they are,” said each to his neighbour, and a feverish excitement made numbers run to the veranda posts, and climb up to get a better view. A force also was sent down the road to meet them. How slow the time went with the watchers in the fort!

Just before six o’clock there was a yell from the loyal natives, and shouts announced that the Hausas were coming round the bend of the road. The relief came in through two long lines of natives, who wanted to see the brave fellows who had fought their way up to Kumassi from the coast. But, poor fellows! they had had a terrible time: their officers were all wounded; they had had nothing to eat or drink since early morning, and they were fearfully exhausted.

However, after they had slept a few hours and drunk some tea, they were able to tell their tale. Captain Aplin, who led them, said:

“We got on all right till we came to a village called Esiago, when we were attacked on both sides by a large force concealed among the trees. I formed the men up two deep, kneeling, and facing the bush on either side. By Jove! it was a perfect hail of slugs; and we could not see a soul, as the black chaps slid down the trunks of the trees into the jungle. Captain Cochrane, who was with the Maxim, was hit in the shoulder, but would not leave his post, and Dr. Macfarlane was wounded while tending him. Then the machine-guns became overheated and jammed, and had to cease firing. Four times the enemy returned to the attack. I got this graze on my cheek from a bullet which passed through my orderly’s leg.

“Next day, after crossing the Ordah River, we were attacked at eleven a.m., and the fight lasted till five in the evening. A sudden turn in the track, and we saw a strongly-built stockade, horseshoe shape. Some Ashantis were looking over the top and peering between the logs. The track was so narrow that we had no front for firing, and the whole path was swept by their guns. I told off Captain Cochrane to outflank the stockade. He, with thirty Hausas, crept away into the bush to do so. Meanwhile, we ran short of ammunition, and had to load with gravel and stones. When I told the men to fix bayonets ready for a charge, I found they were so done up they could hardly stand. Our hour seemed to have struck, and the guns had again jammed. Just then three volleys sounded near the stockade. Cochrane was enfilading them. Hurrah! Instantly the Ashanti fire began to slacken. One charge, and it was ours.”

Amongst those who had come in with the Hausas was Mr. Branch, an officer in the telegraph department. In reply to Lady Hodgson as to how he was so lame, he replied:

“I and my men were busy putting the line right to Kumassi. We were peacefully going through the forest when – bang! one of my hammock-men went down, shot, and the rest, carriers and all, threw down their loads, and bolted into the tangle of trees and undergrowth. By good luck, I had taken off my helmet and placed it at the foot of my hammock. The rebels thought it was my head, and every gun was blazing away at my poor helmet. It was fairly riddled, I can tell you. I jumped out of the hammock, and made for the bush; but it was so thick and thorny, the brutes caught me and beat me with sticks about the legs and feet, so that I can scarcely walk, as you see. Well, it was my poor terrier dog that saved me; for he came nosing after me, but somehow took a wrong turn, was fired on and wounded, and went off whimpering into the bush in a different direction. The Ashantis followed my doggie, thinking he was with me; so I got away from them that night. I wandered about, trying to find the village, where a Kokofu chief was friendly to me. As daylight came I heard natives talking, and threw myself down under some leaves, thinking it would be rather unpleasant to be taken and tortured. Well, they came up, saw the grass had been disturbed, stopped, examined, found me! I was done for! No, I was not. I saw by their grinning and other signs that they were friendly. In fact, my carriers had told the friendly chief about me, and he had sent these men to bring me back; they had been looking for me all night. They carried me back to Esumeja, where I stayed until the Lagos Hausas came up on the 27th of April.”

Next day the garrison of Kumassi found that their rescuers had been compelled to abandon their rice, and to fire away most of their ammunition on the road. Now there were 250 more mouths to feed, and food was running short. Rations were served out every morning, and it was a very delicate operation, for the loyal natives thought it a clever thing to steal a tin of beef or biscuits. The biscuits and tinned meat had been stored four years in a tropical climate; the meat-tins were covered inside by a coating of green mould, and the biscuits were either too hard to bite or were half-eaten already by weevils. Captain Middleton died on the 6th of May, and when he was buried, his “boy” Mounchi lay down on his master’s grave like a faithful dog and sobbed bitterly. That boy became a famous nurse; they called him the “Rough Diamond.” The poor refugees had now left the walls of the fort and had gone to their huts; they looked so wan and piteous.

Night after night there came a fearful noise of drumming from the rebel camps. The loyal chiefs said the drums were beating out defiance and challenge to fight.

“Why not send for more white men?” Ah! why did they not come?

Every day news came of a rescue column; every night the rumour was proved false.

On the 15th of May, about 3.30 p.m., there was a terrific hubbub all round the fort. Officers rushed on to the veranda to see what was the matter. Hundreds of friendly natives were streaming along the north road.

“What is it, chief?”

“Heavy loads of food coming in. Much eat! much eat – very good for belly!”

In a few minutes the garrison saw a joyful sight: Major Morris leading in his troops from the northern territories – such a fine body of men, all wearing the picturesque many-coloured straw hats of the north. Some of the officers were on ponies. Oh, what shaking of hands! what delightful chatter! But they, too, had had to fight their way through several stockades, and some were wounded.

“The arrival of Major Morris,” writes Lady Hodgson, “seemed to take a load off our minds. He was so cheery, confident, and resourceful, and seemed always able to raise the spirits of the faint-hearted… But the large loads of food did not in reality exist: they had only brought enough to last a week; they had, however, brought plenty of ammunition.”

Major Morris was now in command of 750 of all ranks, and he resolved to make a reconnaissance in force. They went after the rebels far from the fort, and whilst they were away fighting, the wives of the refugees were doing a slow funeral dance up and down the road, chanting a mournful dirge, their faces and bodies daubed with white paint. In spite of this appeal to their gods, many wounded were carried back to the fort.

Many a weary day came and went; no strong relief came – no news. The natives were dying of starvation: some went mad and shrieked; others sat still and picked their cloth to pieces. It was bad enough for all. A rat cost ten shillings; all pets had been eaten long ago.

Then it was determined that the Governor and Lady Hodgson and most of the garrison should try to force their way to the coast, as there were only three days’ supply of rations left. The 23rd of June was to be the day of departure.

The Governor’s last words to the men left behind in the fort were: “Well, you have a supply of food for twenty-three days, and are safe for that period; but we are going to die to-day.” Captain Bishop was left in command of the fort, with a small force.

From Captain Bishop’s report we learn that Major Morris had scarcely left Kumassi when he saw a band of Ashantis coming towards the fort from their stockade. They thought, no doubt, that the fort had been deserted, but the fire from two Maxims soon convinced them to the contrary. The refugees, who had built shelters round the walls, had all, with the exception of 150, gone away with the Governor’s column; but their empty shelters formed a pestilential area: over them hovered vultures – a sure proof of what some of them contained – and one of the first duties of the little garrison was to burn them up, after examining their contents.

The day after the column left three men died of starvation, and almost daily one or more succumbed. When no relief came, as promised – though they had been told it was only sixteen miles off – their hopes fell, and after ten days they gave up all hope of surviving.

“But,” he says, “we kept up an appearance of cheerfulness for the sake of our men. I regard the conduct of the native troops as marvellous; they maintained perfect discipline, and never complained. Some were too weak even to stand at the table to receive their rations, and lay about on the ground. All were worn to skin and bone, but there were a few who, to relieve their hunger, had been eating poisonous herbs, which caused great swellings of the body. Sometimes native women would come outside the fort and offer to sell food. A penny piece of cocoa realized fifteen shillings; bananas were eighteen-pence each; half a biscuit could be bought for three shillings. This may give some idea of the scarcity of food.

“On the 14th of July we heard terrific firing at 4.30 p.m. Hopes jumped up again, but most of the men were too weak to care for anything. It was very pathetic that now, when relief was at hand, some of the men were just at the point of death.

“At 4.45, amid the din of the ever-approaching firing, we heard ringing British cheers, and a shell passed over the top of the fort. We soon saw shells bursting in all directions about 400 yards off, and we fired a Maxim to show that we were alive. Then, to our intense relief, we heard a distant bugle sound the ‘Halt!’ and at six o’clock on this Sunday evening, the 15th of July, we saw the heads of the advance guard emerge from the bush, with a fox-terrier trotting gaily in front.

“Instantly the two buglers on the veranda sounded the ‘Welcome,’ blowing it over and over again in their excitement. A few minutes later a group of white helmets told us of the arrival of the staff, and we rushed out of the fort, cheering to the best of our ability. The meeting with our rescuers was of a most affecting character.

“Colonel Willcocks and his officers plainly showed what they had gone through. The whole of the force was halted in front of the fort, and three cheers for the Queen and the waving of caps and helmets formed an evening scene that none of us will ever forget.” So they won through by pluck and patience – 33 Europeans and some 720 Hausas opposing many thousands of savage and cruel natives.

And what about the Governor’s party?

They stole away on the morning of the 23rd of June in a blue-white mist, through the swamp and the clinging bush, till they came to a stockade. Then they were seen by the Ashantis, who began to beat their tom-toms and drums, signalling for help from other camps. But they took the stockade, and found beyond it a nice little camp; before every hut a fire was burning and food cooking, and no one to look after it. Many a square meal was hurriedly snatched and eaten, but some who were too greedy and stayed behind to eat fell victims to the returning foe.

Then came a terrible wrestling with bad roads and sniping blacks and a deluge of rain, and most of their boxes were thrown away or lost.

Of course there were many cases of theft. On the third night two men were brought into the village in a dying state. One of them was clasping in his hand a label taken from a bottle of Scrubb’s ammonia. They had broken open a box, and finished the two bottles which they found there: one was whisky, the other ammonia!

Lady Hodgson writes: “One stream I remember well; it was some 30 feet wide, and flowing swiftly. Across it was a tree-trunk, very slippery. How was I to get over? The difficulty was solved by my cook carrying me over in his arms. He was a tall man, and managed to take me over safely; but more than once he stumbled, and I thought I should be dropped into the torrent. Often the road led through high reeds and long grass, and many a time I thought we had lost our way, and might suddenly emerge into some unfriendly village, to be taken prisoners or cut down.

“At last N’kwanta came in sight, perched on a hill. We could see the Union Jack flying on a flagstaff in the centre of the town, and the King’s people drawn up to receive the Governor. We were at last among friends.

“Fires were burning everywhere, and the cooking of food was the sole pursuit. Our poor starved Hausas had now before them the diet in which their hearts delighted. It was a pleasant sight to see the joy with which they welcomed their altered prospects, and the dispersal of the gloom which had so long rested upon all of us like a pall.”

From Lady Hodgson’s “Kumassi,” by kind permission of Messrs. C. Arthur Pearson, Ltd.

CHAPTER XXIII

MAFEKING (1899-1900)

Snyman begins to fire – A flag of truce – Midnight sortie – The dynamite trolley – Kaffirs careless – A cattle raid – Eloff nearly takes Mafeking – Is taken himself instead – The relief dribble in – At 2 a.m. come cannon with Mahon and Plumer.

On the 7th of October, 1899, Colonel Baden-Powell issued a notice to the people of Mafeking, in which he told them that “forces of armed Boers are now massed upon the Natal and Bechuanaland borders. Their orders are not to cross the border until the British fire a shot. As this is not likely to occur, at least for some time, no immediate danger is to be apprehended… It is possible they might attempt to shell the town, and although every endeavour will be made to provide shelter for the women and children, yet arrangements could be made to move them to a place of safety if they desire to go away from Mafeking…”

Mafeking is situated upon a rise about 300 yards north of the Matopo River. The railway, which runs north to Buluwayo, is to the west of the town, and crosses the river by an iron bridge. To the west of the railway is the native stadt, which consists of Kaffir huts, being called in Kaffir language “The Place Among the Rocks.”

The centre of the town is the market-square, from which bungalows built of mud-bricks, with roofs of corrugated iron, extend regularly into the veldt. The streets were barricaded, and the houses protected by sand-bags. An armour-plated train, fitted with quick-firing guns, patrolled the railway at times. The population during the siege included 1,500 whites and 8,000 natives. The town was garrisoned by the Cape Police and by the Protectorate Regiment, under Colonel Hore, by the Town Guard, and volunteers.

Great was the excitement of the inhabitants as the day of bombardment drew near. They had been very busy constructing earthworks and gun-emplacements, piling up tiers of sand-bags and banks of earth to face them; some had dug deep pits to sit in, but at first such makeshifts were derided by the inexperienced.

It had been notified that a red flag would fly from headquarters if an attack were threatening, together with an alarm bell rung in the centre of the town. Mines had been placed outside the town, and a telephone attached.

Commandant Snyman had prophesied that when he did begin to bombard Mafeking English heads would roll on the veldt like marbles. Mafeking had no artillery to speak of, so no wonder that many hearts felt uneasy tremors as the fatal Monday drew near. Yet curiosity ofttimes overcame fear, and many coigns of vantage were chosen by those who wished to climb up and see the gory sport. The bombardment began at 9.15 a.m., and the first shell sank in a sand-heap, and forgot to explode. The second and third fell short, but not very short. Then came shell after shell, falling into street or backyard, and exploding with a bang. Numbers rushed to find out what damage had been done. Then grins stole across surprised faces: the area of damage was about 3 square feet. Three shells fell into the hospital, luckily doing no harm to anyone. After some hours of terrible, thundering cannon-fire, it suddenly ceased. The garrison counted up their casualties. Three buildings had been struck – the hospital, the monastery, and Riesle’s Hotel; one life had been taken – it was a pullet that had never yet laid an egg!

Shortly after this bill of butchery had been presented the Boer General sent an emissary to Colonel Baden-Powell.

“Commandant Snyman presents his compliments, and desires to know if, to save further bloodshed, the English would now surrender.”

Baden-Powell is a great actor; he never smiled as he replied:

“Tell the Commandant, with my compliments, that we have not yet begun.”

But a few days later the Boers were seen to be very active on the veldt about three miles from the town, and the rumour spread that they had sent to Pretoria for siege guns. The townsfolk stood in groups and discussed the new peril.

About noon next day the red flag flew from head-quarters. Presently a great cloud of smoke rose on the skyline; then came a rush of air, a roar as of some great bird flying, a terrific concussion, and then flying fragments of steel buried themselves in distant buildings, creating a sense of terror throughout the town.

“Mafeking is doomed!” was the general cry that afternoon; those alone who had dug themselves deep pits were fairly comfortable in their minds. The second shot of the big Creusot gun wrecked the rear of the Mafeking Hotel, and the force of the explosion hurled the war correspondent of the Chronicle upon a pile of wood. Next day more than 200 shells were thrown into Mafeking, which was saved by its mud walls; where bricks would have been shattered and shaken, these walls only threw out a cloud of dust.

As the Boers began to construct trenches round the city, Captain Fitzclarence was ordered to make a midnight sortie. Shortly after eleven o’clock the little party started on their perilous expedition; they crept on over the veldt in extended order, noiseless as possible, nearer and nearer to the Boer entrenchments. Those who watched them felt the weirdness of the scene – the deep silence, the mysterious noises of the veldt, the shadows caused by the bush. Now they were within a few yards; as they fixed bayonets they rushed forward with a cheer. Then figures showed in the Boer position; shots rang out, horses neighed and stampeded in fright. The Boers, taken by surprise, were unsteady and panic-struck; not many in the first trenches resisted long and stubbornly. Captain Fitzclarence, a splendid swordsman, laid four Boers who faced him on the ground; his men pursued with the bayonet.

Botha said next day that they thought a thousand men had been hurled against them, and the Boers in the other trenches fired as fast as they could at anything they could see or not see, many of the bullets going as far as the town.

This useless firing went on for a long time. When the attacking party arrived at the town again, they found they had lost only six men, eleven wounded, and two taken prisoners. Next day the Boers fired no gun until evening, and had plenty to do in collecting their wounded.

Several such night attacks were made in order to check the Boers’ advance. After six weeks of siege, Colonel Baden-Powell said in a published order: “Provisions are not yet scarce, danger is purely incidental, and everything in the garden is lovely.” He was always trying to cheer up his little garrison with humorous speeches and funny doings, with concerts and dances and theatrical entertainments. It was the knowledge of what he had done to keep up the spirits of his men and the spirits of Englishmen at home which caused such a frenzy of delight when Mafeking was finally relieved. What seemed a madness of joy was a sure instinct in the nation. It is true that Mafeking, through the foresight of Julius Weil, the contractor, possessed immense stocks of food; but as to its defences, dummy camps and dummy earthworks built to affright the Boers would not have availed unless the loyalty and bravery of the colonists had been equal to the severest strain. There was a wild desire to spike “Big Ben,” but the Creusot was hedged round by barbed wire, guarded by mines, and flanked by Nordenfeldt guns. It seemed wearisome work, week after week, to find the Boers standing away four or five miles, while from their places of safety they launched their shells. Sometimes in the night Baden-Powell would go forth alone, and creep or stand and examine and ferret out the plans of the enemy. Often, as he returned, he would startle some dozing sentry, even as the great Napoleon, who once found a sentry asleep, and shouldered his musket until the fellow awoke with a start. “I will not tell, but don’t do it again!”