About one o'clock, without any order and without any reason, the Boers, who were occupying another little kopje on our left, forsook their position. The English artillerymen at once rushed forward, and now began to fire upon us at a distance of 3,500 metres. Then, all at once, there was a cry of, 'To the horses!' At our feet, behind us in the plain, a regiment of Lancers, who had come round the big kopje where we were stranded as on an island, sweep forward in loose order, to seize our horses which are sheltered below.

There is a rush to protect them. A few Boers, coming from I know not whence, took ambush in a little spruit, and drove off the Lancers by a withering fire; but while this feint was being carried out, the English made another rush forward, more serious than the first. A fierce fusillade was kept up on both sides.

We are now only hanging on to the kopje by the left corner.

Suddenly, not having been able to seize our horses, the enemy open a terrible artillery fire upon them obliquely. The Boers retreat before it, and the position becomes untenable; we have only just time to reach our horses. As we come down the kopje, one of my comrades, who is a great declaimer of verse, recites 'Rolla'; but his memory fails him at a certain verse, and he asks me to help him out. I reply that I don't know 'Rolla,' but my answer is cut short by a sh.e.l.l which, pa.s.sing between us, bursts and carries off the head of a Burgher clean from the nape of the neck.

And through the crash of sh.e.l.ls and the whistle of bullets I hear a few metres off the voice of my friend De C---- speaking to someone I cannot see:

'It was at Tabarin, you know.'

At last we reach the horses; Buhors arrives, bringing the water-bottles he has filled at a little spring a hundred metres off under a hail of projectiles. An ambulance is on the spot, riddled with bullets, and the doctor, admirably calm, tends the wounded, while the natives hastily harness the mules. We see two or three more men fall; a horse drops disembowelled by a sh.e.l.l; then we are in the saddle.

Four or five men, who were firing at us from a distance of about 200 metres on top of the kopje we had just abandoned, and the battery which was working away unceasingly 3,000 yards off, had got us in an angle of fire. The ground was ploughed up by a hail of projectiles, and the shower of bullets raised thousands of little clouds.

A hard gallop of 2,000 metres under these convergent fires carried us pretty well out of danger.

A German, with a long fair beard, whom I knew well, galloped past me.

He had no coat, no hat, no arms; his horse had neither saddle nor bridle; he was guiding it by a halter. Pale, with staring eyes, his face contracted, he dashed past me. There was a large blood-stain on his shirt. He had been shot right through the body!

It was half-past two o'clock.

These two days cost us twenty killed, among them six Europeans, and about fifty wounded, of whom twenty were Europeans.

Scarcely had we got beyond range, when we met Botha, who posted us on a little slope. There were about sixty of us. Then Botha went off. When he had disappeared, a Burgher went slowly up to his horse, mounted it, and left the field. Another followed him, just as slowly, then a third.

Soon there were only about fifteen Europeans left.

We could see nothing on the horizon, neither convoy nor retreating troops. We in our turn departed, saluted by a few sh.e.l.ls.

Here and there a few wounded, and one or two men who had lost their horses, were going away. No one knew what had become of the army.

IX

At last we meet General Olivier's troops, marching to the north-west.

They appear to know nothing of the battle. Scarcely have we gone 100 metres with them before we are stopped by a battery, which opens fire upon us. The English form a semicircle round us. The situation is serious. We make off across the Veldt, towards the east, till far on in the night. We sleep on the ground, keeping a sharp look-out.

On the next day, Tuesday, at dawn, we set out again, describing a wide circle, first to the east, then to the north, and finally to the west.

It proved lucky for us that we had done so, for we were behind the English columns marching on Brandfort and Winburg.

Finally, always making our way across the Veldt, we arrived at Brandfort on the 4th about eight o'clock in the morning.

Oh, how thankful we were to be in our camp and in our tents again! What a tub we had! what a breakfast! and what a sleep we look forward to when night comes!

While waiting for the preparation of a serious meal, we set to work to grill a few chops. They have scarcely been on the embers more than two minutes, when we hear Pom! pom! pom!

There is no time for breakfast. To horse! We swallow our raw cutlets, and gallop off.

Four men stay behind to strike the camp, and we take up a position to the south-east of Brandfort, on the kopjes that command the plain.

In the distance, about eight kilometres off, we see the English convoys already making for Brandfort. They are pretty confident.

To the right, a battery, of which we can distinguish the escort, silences the cannon nearest us by killing the gunners. Then a second battery advances at a trot on the left in the plain, and crosses the fire of the first.

The Boers watch this manoeuvre with great interest, discussing it and giving their opinions on it. Then, as the battery halts and takes up a position, slowly but surely, they all make for their horses.

Scarcely are the first sh.e.l.ls fired before they are in their saddles, decamping at full speed.

Our two 75-millimetre guns come up, and throw a few sh.e.l.ls from a distance, with no result.

It is always the same. They watch the enemy's operations without interfering, and when they want to act, it is too late.

It is two o'clock. Our waggons went off long ago, but the road is enc.u.mbered with a long string of vehicles.

The roads to Smaldeel and Winburg are cut off. There is an indescribable throng on the Veldt; each person is going in his own direction. The confusion is complete.

C---- and I go off to try and find our baggage, for since the 1st we have had no news of the trolley, which is with Michel and a few comrades. The rest of the carts may very well have been captured, like so many others, either near Winburg or near Smaldeel.

My friend, always full of foresight, had taken the precaution of putting a pot of peach jam in his pocket when we started in the morning. On this we dined without a sc.r.a.p of biscuit.

Late in the evening we arrived at a farm, from whence we were shown the English outposts on a kopje opposite. During the night the owners of the farm went off in a cart. Kaffirs kept watch to warn us should any attempt be made on our refuge. We slipped away at daybreak, and arrived at Smaldeel towards noon on the 5th.

The retreat continued. Each day was marked by a skirmish, though no serious engagement took place except at Zand River on the 9th. There the fighting was pretty hot. The Boers of our right wing were driven back, while the Germans, who were in front, held the bed of the river, which makes an angle at this point. The English column advanced, greatly outnumbering the Germans, who were very nearly taken. They ordered the Boers to stand firm to allow them to disengage themselves, but the panic-stricken Burghers would not stop. Then, without receiving any orders, the Germans, moved by a feeling of deep and legitimate anger, once more summoned the fugitives to fight, and on their refusal, poured a volley into them at a distance of about 200 metres. Several fell; the rest, cowed by this prompt action, returned to their positions, held the English column in check for a few moments, and gave the Germans time to disengage themselves.

On the 12th French had arrived first at Kroonstad by one of his usual outflanking movements. The surprise had been complete. Fortunately our carts had left the day before.

Since the 8th Heilbron had become the seat of government of the Free State.

The Irish Brigade,[#] nearly all of whom were drunk after the sacking of the stores, had been made prisoners for the most part.

[#] A certain number of Irish, commanded by Colonel Blake, had taken service with the Boers under the name of the Irish Brigade.

The railway-station, which served as a commissariat store, had been burnt to the ground with all the provisions, which there had been no time to save.

Everyone was worn out. Lorentz had been shot in two places at Zand River; Wrangel too was wounded. Everywhere where resistance had been necessary the Boers had not stood against a dozen sh.e.l.ls.

The retreat continued to Vereeniging; we arrived there on the 14th. The most contradictory rumours were freely circulated. On the 12th, Mafeking was said to have been taken by the Boers; on the 13th the news was confirmed; on the 14th it was denied.

The town, it appeared, had very nearly been taken by a hundred foreigners; but getting no support from the Boers, they had failed in their attempt, and seventy-two of them had been killed.

On the morning of the 17th we were said to have captured eighteen guns at Mafeking. The following telegram, signed by General Snyman, had even been published:

'This morning I had the good fortune to take prisoner Baden-Powell and his 900 men.'