In the Ranks of the C.I.V. | Page 6

the framework of the stall. If you come up to
protest, they pretend to be asleep, and eat your arm as you pass. They
also have a playful way of untying their breast-pads and standing on
them, and if you are conscientious, you can amuse yourself by rescuing
these articles from under their hind feet."
The days were never very monotonous; variety was given by revolver
practice, harness cleaning, and lectures on first aid to the wounded. At
the same time it came as a great relief to hear that we were at last close
to the Cape.
From my diary:--
"February 26.--Heavy day at stables. Land reported at eleven; saw
through forage-port a distant line of mountains on port beam, edged by
a dazzling line of what looked like chalk cliffs, but I suppose is sand. I
am on stable-guard for the night (writing this in the guard-room), so
when stables were over at four I had to pack hard, and only got up for a
glimpse of things at five, then approaching Table Bay, guarded by the
splendid Table Mountain, with the tablecloth of white clouds spread on
it in the otherwise cloudless sky. I always imagined it a smooth, dull
mountain, but in fact it rises in precipitous crags and ravines. A lovely
scene as we steamed up through a crowd of shipping--transports, I
suppose--and anchored some way from shore. Blowing hard to-night. I
have been on deck for a few minutes. The sea is like molten silver with
phosphorescence under the lash of the wind.
"February 27.--Tiresome day of waiting. Gradually got known that we
shan't land to-day, though it is possible still we may to-night. Torrid,
windless day, and very hot work 'mucking out' and tramping round

with the horses, which we did all the morning, and some of the
afternoon. News sent round that we had captured Cronje and 5000
prisoners; all the ships dressed with flags, and whistles blowing;
rockets in evening, banging off over my head now, and horses jumping
in unison. Shall we be wanted? is the great question. We are packed
ready to land any minute."
CHAPTER II.
CAPETOWN AND STELLENBOSCH.
Landing--Green Point Camp--Getting into trim--My horses--Interlude--
Orders to march--Sorrows of a spare driver--March to Stellenbosch--
First bivouac--A week of dust and drill--The road to water--Off again.
"March 4.--Sunday.--Green Point Camp.--This is the first moment I
have had to write in since last Tuesday. I am on picket, and writing in
the guard-tent by a guttery lantern.
"To go back:--On Wednesday morning, the 28th of February, we
steamed slowly up to a great deserted quay. The silence struck me
curiously. I had imagined a scene of tumult and bustle on the spot
where troops in thousands had been landing continuously for so long.
We soon realized that we were to supply all the bustle, and that
practical work had at last begun, civilian assistance dispensed with, and
the Battery a self-sufficient unit. There was not even a crane to help us,
and we spent the day in shoving, levering, and lifting on to trucks and
waggons our guns, carriages, limbers, ammunition, and other stores, all
packed as they were in huge wooden cases. It was splendid exercise as
a change from stable-work. Weather melting hot; but every one was in
the highest spirits; though we blundered tediously through the job, for
we had no experience in the fine art of moving heavy weights by hand.
I forgot to take note of my sensations on first setting foot on African
soil, as I was groaning under a case of something terribly heavy at the
time.
"We worked till long after dark, slept like logs in the dismantled
troop-deck, rose early, and went on until the afternoon of the next day,

when we landed the horses--of which, by the way, we had only lost
four on the voyage--harnessed up some waggons to carry stores, and
were ready. While waiting to start, some charming damsels in white
muslin brought us grapes. At about four we started for Green Point
Camp, which is on a big plain, between the sea and Table Mountain,
and is composed of soft white sand, from which the grass has long
disappeared.
"Directly we reached it, the horses all flung themselves down, and
rolled in it. We passed through several camps, and halted at our allotted
site, where we formed our lines and picketed our horses heel and head.
Then the fun began, as they went wild, and tied themselves in
strangulation knots, and kept it up all night, as the sleepless pickets
reported.
"After feeding and watering, we unloaded the trucks which had begun
to come in, ate some bully-beef and bread, and then fell asleep anyhow,
in a confused heap in our tents. Mine had thirteen in it, and