At about noon we started for Zeerust. My own wagon and several others were loaded with loot, and under escort of four mounted men the seven of us left. I was searched for revolvers or poison—of all things in the world! Soon we left Lobatsi behind us, on the way to the lager. I was • a prisoner now, and began to realise the meaning of the word. Our wagon was very full, and packed by the Boers without any thought of providing comfort. The stationmaster and myself had to sit the whole three hours’ journey in the broiling sun—from twelve to three o’clock. We arrived at the lager then, getting there a cup of tea, and eating some provisions we had brought with us. We here rearranged everything on our wagon so as to get a little more comfort for the ladies of the party.
I was greatly struck by the difference in treatment we all, and I especially, experienced here at the hands of the burghers in the lager—those who had not taken part in the Lobatsi expedition. Those who had were-of course still there. _ The lager was pitched at a place called “ Schildpad ” (“ tortoise ”) and all the men were most courteous to all of us. At Lobatsi all were scowling, and many a bitter word and curse were flung at me. Here every one was kind, and eagerly helped me to unload and reload the wagon. The Commandant, Swarts, had also joined us, having followed on horseback. He, too, was most courteous now, so much so that I was wondering what might have caused the change. When about to start he said to me—
“Mr. H., don't trouble yourself about anything. Your comfort will be well attended to at Zeerust. 'Tis much safer for you and all your party to be there now." To our escort he gave orders to take us to the hotel. He left me under the impression that we were really not prisoners, but were taken for protection. Alas, delusive hope 1 I did not know the man I had to do with. At the time I believed him; and so cheered we all felt, that when on the point of starting I thanked him and all the others, in the name of all our party, for their courtesy and kindness to us. More still. Belonging to the tent of my travelling wagon was a handy folding-table.
I had put it up for the party's use—there it was, standing before us. And now, since my trip to the interior had to be given up, I asked Swarts to accept of it as a present, a token of our gratitude for his courtesy now extended to us. The simple-minded (sic) warrior actually accepted of it and thanked us. And weeks afterwards, when I lay ill, sorely ill, in Zeerust gaol, and he was asked to give me parole on that account, the good Samaritan, who had listened to my words of thanks, who had accepted of my gift, gave answer and said, " Laat hem vrek ” (“ Let him die"). “Such men as he ought to be shot or sentenced to twenty years' imprisonment." Reader, I've given you a fair type of a Transvaal Government minion! Judge for yourself. The Boer, the real one, is a different man, however.
At about sunset on that Sunday we pursued the journey to Zeerust. I had arranged the front room of my comfortable travelling wagon for the use of the old ganger and his wife and her brother. The others occupied the room at the back. The station-master and myself occupied an outside seat. The weather was now very pleasant, and our spirits.were comparatively buoyant again. Our escort consisted of four mounted men. Two, who were brothers, were young men of German descent, and had accompanied us from Lobatsi, They were better educated than the others, and were indeed interesting companions. They were most courteous to us all along. The one soon found a place inside our wagon. We were consequently fairly cramped for space, and as we travelled through all night there was not much sleep to be had. The younger of these two brothers has since died of fever, greatly regretted by many friends.
Thus that fateful Sunday ended—a day never to be forgotten. Many a time during that night I shuddered when again I pictured some of the events I had passed through. At times it seemed to be only a dream, till the rumbling of the wagon and the gleam of the rifle barrels in the beautiful moonlight reminded me of the stern reality. Alas! it was no dream—'twas a stern reality. We were prisoners, but yet hopeful. Had not the Commandant given orders for us to be taken to the hotel, where we would be practically free? and had he not told me to have no concern, because the greatest care would be taken for the comfort of all of us? He did: but I then, as I said above, did not know the stamp of man I had to deal with. Among civilised nations an officer’s boast is that his word is his honour, a word given to a conquered enemy especially, or a prisoner. But here, where war was commenced with a great blare of trumpets, announcing to the world how much they had prayed to God to prosper their arms, and theirs alone—here an officer's word, an officer who is a Government tool, is not his honour, to put it very mildly. This was not my only experience of the fact. It is some months now since I was taken prisoner, and during these weary weeks I have had to experience this characteristic tens and tens of times. I will try, in charity, to believe that they behaved falsely to me only—me whom they delighted in hating and humiliating. But there! as soon as I try to cherish this charitable disposition a new piece of fraud and deceit is’ practised upon the little colony of prisoners here, and even- charity refuses to be charitable. Oh! what must I do? The Government officials we are brought into contact with here, in our prison, cannot even buy me a little book marked 1/6, without charging 2/- for it— the extra 6d. naturally for their own honest pockets —a salve to the conscience, is it?
But more of this later on. Monday morning at seven o'clock we arrived at Zeerust, hungry and thoroughly tired out by the excitement of the previous day. We wore kindly received at the hotel, and a bath and cup of delicious coffee soon set me up again.
And thus began another eventful day, which deserves a chapter to itself.
