Part 9 (1/2)
_From Head of Secret Service to President_
PRETORIA, _February 12th, 1902_.
With Commandos all is still about the same as when I was here in December. Much ammunition has been taken from the enemy recently.
No want of food, horses fairly good, but clothing very scarce.
Three weeks ago I was with the Commandant-General. All well with him. Government in good health, burghers full of courage. Good tidings received from President Steyn.
_Everything_ plentiful in Free State.
General Botha is now in Ermelo district with 1,000 men; de la Rey between Klerksdorp and Rustenburg, 1,500 men; Beyers near Pietersberg, 1,000 men; Muller near Pilgrim's Rest, on Delagoa line, with 600 or 700 men; Piet Viljoen between Heidelberg and Middelburg, 1,200; Christian Botha, district Utrecht, 600; s.m.u.ts has gone to the Colony with 1,500. These are the big Commandos only. There are many small forces of 100 or a few hundred men under petty officers. Engagements: January 15th General Botha defeated enemy. Three wounded on our side. Enemy's loss, 46 killed, 92 wounded, 150 prisoners. 200 horses taken, 15,000 rounds of ammunition. Great victory by Commandant-General on the 3rd inst. No full report received yet.
Everywhere small engagements.
Many prisoners taken from our ranks lately, through the poor condition of our horses. Things better now. De la Rey has had a few small victories. On December 25th engagement under de Wet near Frankfort. Our side victorious. A camp of 500 men taken, 150 killed and wounded, 200 captures, 2 Armstrongs taken with 400 sh.e.l.ls; 1 Nordenbeldt with 2,500 maxim pompoms; rifle ammunition 150,000; all the horses and cattle. The enemy is plundered daily. Health of burghers excellent. Plenty of fruit.
Our losses, as usual, miraculously small.
Through perseverance and faith we hope to gain a certain victory.
CHAPTER IX
JAN CELLIERS, POET AND PATRIOT
That there is more than one man of the name of Jan Celliers in South Africa I know, but there is only one Jan Celliers who can be honoured by the t.i.tle ”Poet and Patriot,” and that is the remarkable personality of our friend in Pretoria, J.F.E. Celliers.
I have chosen him as the subject of this chapter, not so much because of the important, I may almost say revolutionary part he has played in the building up of South African literature since the war, as on account of the unique patriotism displayed by him throughout the war under circ.u.mstances of the severest test and trial.
How he, after active service in the field since the beginning of the war, came to be locked up in Pretoria as an unseen prisoner of war, an unwilling captive between the green walls of his suburban garden, when the British took possession of the capital on that stupefying June 5th, 1900, we shall briefly relate in this chapter.
Mr. Celliers' experience was that of many good and faithful burghers.
The news of heavy Boer losses, the desperately forced march of the British troops from Bloemfontein to Pretoria, the crus.h.i.+ng blows in quick succession, the departure of the Boer Administration from the seat of government, the demoralisation of the scattered forces, and the painful uncertainty of what the next step was to be--these things, combined with the fact, in Mr. Celliers' case, of having no riding-horse or bicycle on which to escape from the town, caused him to be surprised by the wholly unexpected entry of the British forces into the capital. Just a brief period of dazed inaction, a few hours of stupefied uncertainty, and he found himself hopelessly cut off from every chance of escape.
He planned escape from the beginning, for conscientious scruples forbade his taking the oath of neutrality. Of the oath of allegiance there was no question whatever.
There was nothing for it but to keep himself hidden until an opportunity for escaping to his fellow-countrymen in the field presented itself.
The first three weeks were spent in the garden, but it soon became evident that listening ears and prying eyes were being paid to discover his whereabouts, and closer confinement was found necessary.
Thereafter he sat between four walls, reading and writing during the greater part of the day, keeping a watchful eye on the little front gate through a narrow opening in the window-blind and disappearing, through a trap-door, under the floor as soon as a soldier or official entered the gate.
When darkness fell he left his cramped hiding-place, and gliding unseen through the house and yard, this weary prisoner occupied himself with exercises for the preservation of his health, running, jumping, standing on his head, and plying the skipping-rope vigorously, under the protecting shadows of the dark cypress trees.
The weeks went by, broken once by the intense excitement of a visit of one of the burghers from the field.
Mrs. Celliers' brother, M. Durr, had crept into town at dead of night between the British sentinels on a dangerous mission for the Boers. A short week he spent with his brother-in-law, sharing his confinement and making plans for his escape. Then he was gone, and the old deadly monotony settled over the house once more.
July went by, and August was nearly spent when at last an opportunity presented itself, and Mr. Celliers, in woman's garb, bade wife and children a pa.s.sionate farewell, not to see them again for nearly two years.
With a cloak over his shoulders and a high collar concealing his closely cropped hair, his wife's skirt on, and a heavy veil covering a straw hat, he stepped boldly into a small vehicle standing waiting before his gate and drove through the streets of Pretoria. For the time at least he too belonged to the ”Petticoat Commando.” Mrs. Malan was in the cart, and had been sent by Mrs. Joubert to escort him through the town.