Can I ever forget that day - ever shut out its horrors? I was awake very early that morning, just as day broke. I went out, but not a sound.
I went back to my room, to be startled a few minutes later by the report of a gun. Going out again, followed by some of the others, in a moment we heard the clatter of a horse's hoof, and up rode a man with a white flag. On his arrival he dismounted and came up, asking me if we intended to surrender or fight. With a smile I said, “ Well, my friend, the.stationmaster and I are the only men here—what think you, is it worth while fighting? How many men have you?" said I. “We have about eighty," said he. “Well, we are unarmed—what think you, shall I hold the fort, or surrender? ” He understood my little pleasantry and signalled to the others to come up. He told me, too, that when that shot was fired the whole commando had just drawn up in the river before the hotel, and when I came out on the platform they were on the point of firing on me, thinking they were going to be attacked. But as no more shots were heard they desisted. This was my first escape that day.
Up thundered the eighty horsemen now. The Commanders, Swarts and Potgieter, came up and asked for the keys of the station, &c. I met with dark looks all round, and felt that they were satisfied at the success of the trap they had laid for me. To wreak a petty vengeance they had plotted to capture me, and now they had me—one against eighty—a defenceless man, too. I remembered all their pious talk in their newspapers—-papers which otherwise had no respect at all for religion. I remembered their story of the President's three days' prayer, locked up in his room. I remembered their boast that they never fight on a Sunday. And so, in my indignation, I said to the Commander, “ I thought you do not fight or make war on Sundays?" “No," said he, “we don't as a rule, but orders are orders." “Oh," said I, “ the orders of man are more than the orders of God? " My noble warrior fell into the trap, and said, “ Yes, in time of war I" And I began to understand how much these religious protestations were worth.
All was bustle and confusion now all over the station and the hotel. The ladies made coffee and breakfast for as many as possible, and the commanders held consultations. A trench had been dug some weeks before all along the rails, to drain off the rain-water, and during the digging process an old bit of dynamite fuse, buried under ground - who knows how long before — had been cut in two by the diggers' spades. A length of a couple of inches protruded from the side of this trench. This bit of fuse was spotted by one of the burghers, who reported it to the commander. What a scare it created! Immediately a guard was placed to warn every one off the spot, and terrible was their rage and deep their curses. Of course they concluded we had laid a mine to blow them up! I assured the men that it was not so. No use. “That's the accursed Englishman all over—he can't hit us with the rifle, now he wants to blow us up with dynamite." To prove that they were mistaken I suggested they should all withdraw to some distance, leaving me alone to fire the fuse. This ought to have shown them that they were mistaken, but no one was generous enough to acknowledge it. Indeed, one cowardly fellow cried out, (f Don’t trust the verd . . . verrader (the d . . . traitor); he has some other plan." And so they made a pretence all that day of guarding the reputed mine, just to show the stationmaster and myself that they did not believe us.
I said above that the leaders were holding a consultation and overhauling the station papers. During this time I had a bath and dressed myself, being guarded all the while. To my astonishment I found that my guards—all honest patriots—were purloining everything of mine they could lay hands on unseen. Thus I found my beautiful gold watch, a valuable hunting-belt, gold links, &c., gone, when I re-entered my room. And of course no one had ever seen these! Oh no! And such good fellows don't tell lies!
When finished, I appeared on the platform again, to find every one scowling at me. Mutterings and murmurings were heard on every side. I transcribe some literally, as I jotted them down at the time. “ This is the man who made that disgraceful speech at Kimberley." “He is the traitor who wired those cables all over the world." “He told his hated Government that we were massing on the border."
What caused this sudden access of anger, I wondered? I sat down under the verandah and watched. I soon found out. With a pale, scared face Nurse Ruth came up and said: “ Mr. H., they’ve seen the copies of your wires in the office: they know now you are a correspondent, and they are going to shoot you.” And bursting into tears the kind-hearted nurse fled to her room. Imagine my sensations! I felt stunned, and had only begun to realise somewhat what was awaiting me when the stationmaster managed to get close beside me and whisper, “ What a fool I was not to destroy the wires in the office! They know of the armoured train coming from the north, of which I was advised, and also of your wires; and . . . Mr. H., the commander told me they were going to shoot you!” “In cold blood?” said I. “Yes, just now! ” He was called away then, and what passed through my mind I can only leave the reader to imagine. There I saw before me on the railway platform eager groups talking and gesticulating fiercely. The first and second in command, Swarts and Potgieter, were close to me, some ten yards off, talking to an excited group. I could hear snatches of what was going on, especially the horrible curses flung at me. “ Schiet horn dat hy vrek ” (“ Shoot him dead ”) said one. “ We'll teach him to follow the English, and not stand by us Africanders! ” &c. I felt sure now that my doom was sealed. Their scowling looks, the way they handled their rifles, their words—all proved it, besides what my friends had whispered to me. I was to die because I was loyal} and would not turn traitor. And these poor men had been drilled into the idea that one could be an Africander only by being a Krugerite. They fought for independence, as they averred, by trying to make others dependent. So I really thought that I had but a few moments more to live. There was a pang of regret, a wistful look “ over the hills and far away,” a silent prayer for courage, and a quiet calm took possession of my soul. I felt that I was not afraid to die, though life was sweet.. I remained sitting quietly. Furtive looks were cast my way continually. Oh, how I prayed for courage! How they would like to see me fall on my knees before them, howling for mercy 1 No, no, not that! O God! help me! help me to die as a brave man! Shooting me would be murdering me— that I knew. It would be an infringement of all international usage, for I was innocent and a non-combatant. But I had seen enough of these Commanders now to know that they were capable of doing it. My friends came out to me again, sad and sorrowful, as may be imagined. I told them I was ready and not afraid. Then that little meeting of the Commanders broke up, and they came towards me.
“ It has come,” I thought. Just one more silent prayer, and I stood up and walked to the entrance of the verandah to meet them.
They came with stern, set countenances and loaded rifles. Quietly and calmly I said, “Gentlemen, I am ready to die! ” Oh, it was a horrible moment. I am not ashamed to say I felt as if my heart could break, but, thank God, outwardly I was quite calm. There was an ominous silence, and then the Commandant said: “We’ll take you prisoner to Zeerust, and shoot you there: we won’t shoot you now.” I afterwards heard that this was the resolution come to by the narrow majority of one vote. The second in command was determined to shoot me then, and when outvoted he mounted his horse and rode off in a rage, with a large body of men, northward, to break up more of the railway line.
I then quietly asked: “ Why am I taken prisoner? ” The answer was a shuffling one: “ It is our orders.”
Behind my back, I was cursed and sworn at, and called traitor with ever so many adjectives thrown in. To my face, no one spoke out. Bullies are cowards 1 The real, honest Transvaal burgher—the thousands of them now fighting without pay, only out of patriotism—is no bully, and therefore no coward. Oh no; but those Government minions, lusting for loot, braggarts all— were the bullies and the cowards. Into their hands had I fallen. They could talk lofty patriotism by the hour, and yet send a treacherous message; they .could make wonderful professions of honesty, and yet do a treacherous deed; they could talk of being civilised, and yet take women prisoners 1 I knew now that the danger of immediate death had passed by me, but I knew too I had tasted its bitterness. A scene of bustle ensued hereupon. The Boers dismantled the station, hotel, and stores, and we packed our few belongings. Lots of my clothes had by this time been stolen. The seven of us before referred to were now prisoners, and told to get ready to start for Zeerust soon. It was Sunday, day of peace, but there was none there. It was a beautifully clear day, but dark clouds hung over our lives: the sun was bright above us, but for me especially a blackness of darkest night had come—I was riding on to meet my death.
