London to Ladysmith via Pretoria | Page 9

and its guns steamed off, and we gave it a feeble cheer. Another train

awaited the Berkshires. The mounted infantry were already on the
march. 'Mayn't we even blow up this lot?' said a soldier, pointing to the
house he had helped to fortify. But there was no such order, only this
one which seemed to pervade the air: 'The enemy are coming.
Retreat--retreat--retreat!' The stationmaster--one of the best types of
Englishmen to be found on a long journey--was calm and cheerful.
'No more traffic north of this,' he said. 'Yours was the last train through
from De Aar. I shall send away all my men by the special to-night. And
that's the end as far as Stormberg goes.'
'And you?'
'Oh, I shall stay. I have lived here for twelve years, and am well known.
Perhaps I may be able to protect the company's property.'
While we waited the armoured train returned from patrolling--an
engine between two carriages cloaked from end to end with thick plates
and slabs of blue-grey iron. It had seen nothing of the advancing Boers,
but, like us and like the troops, it had to retire southwards. There were
fifty Uitlanders from Johannesburg on the platform. They had been
employed entrenching; now they were bundled back again towards East
London.
So we left Stormberg in much anger and some humiliation, and jolted
away towards the open sea, where British supremacy is not yet
contested by the Boer. At Molteno we picked up a hundred
volunteers--fine-looking fellows all eager to encounter the enemy, but
much surprised at the turn events had taken. They, too, were ordered to
fall back. The Boers were advancing, and to despondent minds even the
rattle of the train seemed to urge 'Retreat, retreat, retreat.'
I do not desire to invest this wise and prudent though discouraging
move with more than its proper importance. Anything is better than to
leave small garrisons to be overwhelmed. Until the Army Corps comes,
the situation will continue to be unsatisfactory, and the ground to be
recovered afterwards will increase in extent. But with the arrival of
powerful and well-equipped forces the tide of war will surely turn.

CHAPTER IV
IN NATAL
Estcourt: November 6, 1899.
The reader may remember that we started post haste from Cape Town,
and, having the good fortune to pass along the southern frontier from
De Aar to Stormberg by the last train before the interruption of traffic,
had every hope of reaching Ladysmith while its investment was
incomplete. I had looked forward to writing an account of our voyage
from East London to Durban while on board the vessel; but the weather
was so tempestuous, and the little steamer of scarcely 100 tons burthen
so buffeted by the waves, that I lay prostrate in all the anguish of
sea-sickness, and had no thought for anything else. Moreover, we were
delayed some twenty hours by contrary winds; nor was it until we had
passed St. John's that the gale, as if repenting, veered suddenly to the
south-west and added as much to our speed as it had formerly delayed
us. With the change of the wind the violence of the waves to some
degree abated, and, though unable to then record them on paper, I had
an opportunity of gaining some impressions of the general aspect of the
coasts of Pondoland and Natal. These beautiful countries stretch down
to the ocean in smooth slopes of the richest verdure, broken only at
intervals by lofty bluffs crowned with forests. The many rivulets to
which the pasture owes its life and the land its richness glide to the
shore through deep-set creeks and chines, or plunge over the cliffs in
cascades which the strong winds scatter into clouds of spray.
These are regions of possibility, and as we drove along before our now
friendly wind I could not but speculate on the future. Here are wide
tracts of fertile soil watered by abundant rains. The temperate sun
warms the life within the soil. The cooling breeze refreshes the
inhabitant. The delicious climate stimulates the vigour of the European.
The highway of the sea awaits the produce of his labour. All Nature
smiles, and here at last is a land where white men may rule and prosper.
As yet only the indolent Kaffir enjoys its bounty, and, according to the
antiquated philosophy of Liberalism, it is to such that it should for ever

belong. But while Englishmen choke and fester in crowded cities, while
thousands of babies are born every month who are never to have a fair
chance in life, there will be those who will dream another dream of a
brave system of State-aided--almost State-compelled--emigration, a
scheme of old age pensions that shall anticipate old age, and by
preventing paupers terminate itself; a system that