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Title:      Scapegoats of the Empire:
            The True Story of Breaker Morant'S Bushveldt Carbineers
Author:     Lieut. George Witton
eBook No.:  0400611.txt
Edition:    1
Language:   English
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Date first posted:          July 2004
Date most recently updated: July 2004

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Title:      Scapegoats of the Empire:
            The True Story of Breaker Morant'S Bushveldt Carbineers
Author:     Lieut. George Witton


[Illustrated from Photographs.]



INTRODUCTION.

This book is dedicated to my fellow-citizens of the Commonwealth of
Australia, in grateful recognition of their loyal, continuous, and
successful efforts towards my release from an English prison.

I have not attempted to defend the doings of the ill-starred Bushveldt
Carbineers, or the policy of those who employed them.

The methods of dealing with prisoners, which have been solely attributed
to that corps, were in active operation before the so-called "Australian"
officers went to the Spelonken district--a fact which the English press,
and a large section of the Australian press, systematically ignored.

When I arrived in Australia, I found that the grossest misrepresentations
had been made by those primarily responsible for the manner of the
warfare which "staggered humanity," and that they had succeeded in
linking the name of Australia with the most tragic and odious incidents
connected with a mercenary and inglorious war.

If the publication of the truth will in some measure cause Australians,
as a people, to take less on trust where their honour is concerned, and
in future to demand the most searching enquiries and obtain definite
proof before accepting the misdeeds of others as their own, then this
record of an eventful experience will not have been written in vain.
GEORGE R. WITTON.
"THE ELMS."
LANCEFIELD,
VICTORIA.



CONTENTS.

CHAPTER I.     Volunteering to Fight "For the Empire"
CHAPTER II.    The Voyage to Africa
CHAPTER III.   Round About Beira
CHAPTER IV.    On the Sick List
CHAPTER V.     The Australians in Cape Town
CHAPTER VI.    Commissioned in the Bushveldt Carbineers
CHAPTER VII.   The Origin of the Carbineers
CHAPTER VIII.  What Led to the Trouble
CHAPTER IX.    Death of Captain Hunt--Morant's Reprisals
CHAPTER X.     By Order--"No Quarter!"
CHAPTER XI.    Morant's Creditable Exploit
CHAPTER XII.   Ordered for Court-Martial
CHAPTER XIII.  Beyers--And the Flag he Slept On
CHAPTER XIV.   Further Proceedings of Court-Martial
CHAPTER XV.    Close of the Visser Case
CHAPTER XVI.   The Eight Boers Case
CHAPTER XVII.  The Second Court-Martial--Continued
CHAPTER XVIII. In the Name of Justice!
CHAPTER XIX.   The German Missionary Case
CHAPTER XX.    Execution of Morant and Handcock
CHAPTER XXI.   "Imprisonment for Life!"
CHAPTER XXII.  Gaol Discipline and Prison Blunders
CHAPTER XXIII. The Petition for Release
CHAPTER XXIV.  The Long Suspense
CHAPTER XXV.   Freedom at Last!


SCAPEGOATS OF THE EMPIRE



CHAPTER I.

VOLUNTEERING TO FIGHT "FOR THE EMPIRE."

When war was declared between the British and Boers, I, like many of my
fellow-countrymen, became imbued with a warlike spirit, and when reverses
had occurred among the British troops, and volunteers for the front were
called for in Australia, I could not rest content until I had offered the
assistance one man could give to our beloved Queen and the great nation
to which I belong.

When the first Australian Contingent was being prepared for active
service, I was a gunner in the Royal Australian Artillery, and was
stationed at Fort Franklin, opposite Queenscliff, Victoria. I was sworn
to serve for five years in the Artillery, and this gave me little hope
that my wish to go to Africa would be realised. But one day a notice
appeared in brigade orders that a limited number of artillerymen would be
selected for service at the front, all applicants to parade on the jetty
at Portsea in full marching order. Between thirty and forty attended.
Soon the launch "Mars" put in an appearance from Queenscliff with
Lieut.-Colonel Charles Umphelby, O.C.R.A.A., on board. (Lieut.-Colonel
Umphelby was killed on active service at Driefontein in 1900.) The O.C.
inspected the men, and picked out one here and there; when he came to me
he looked me up and down, and remarked that I was too "big and heavy,"
and all my hopes were dashed to the ground. We congratulated those whom
we thought were the fortunate ones, and hoped for better luck ourselves
should another contingent be required.

As time went on, and reports came to hand of hard fighting and much
tougher work than had been anticipated, I got more tired than ever of
barrack-room soldiering, and hankered for something more real and
exciting. Another call was made, another contingent was to be sent; my
prospects began to brighten, but only two men were selected from the
R.A.A., two quartermaster-sergeants. With the third contingent no
opportunity was given to me to join. Shortly after a fourth contingent
was raised, to be known as the Australian Imperial Regiment. The
qualifications for the Regiment were bush experience, and that every man
should be able to ride and shoot. The "machines," or the men who could
merely drill and move their arms and feet as though they were worked on
wire, without having the above qualifications, had no place in this
contingent. I was among the successful applicants from the R.A.A., as I
had been born in the bush, could ride almost as soon as I could walk, and
had learned to shoot almost as soon as I learned anything. My actual
military experience was gained during the twelve months I was with the
R.A.A.

As soon as selected, I, with my comrades, was sent to the Victoria
Barracks, Melbourne, for examination and tests. While there it was my
duty to assist at the Mounted Police Depot, receiving, breaking,
branding, and trucking remounts prior to sending them into camp at
Langwarrin, also attending with horses at the Domain for the riding test.
This riding test seemed to be looked upon by the general public as a kind
of circus, and was attended daily by thousands of spectators. The track
was about half a mile round, and the test was to commence at a trot,
break into a gallop, and negotiate three jumps. A man could judge fairly
his chance of success by the applause or "barracking" as he passed the
crowd. There were many good horsemen among the recruits, men who could
ride anything anywhere, and not a few who could rarely have seen a horse,
much less have ridden it over a jump. One little recruit, with a very
theatrical appearance, known by the sobriquet of "Bland Holt," had a
great struggle to get his halter on his horse, and when it came to
putting on the bridle, which was one of the Mounted Police pattern, and
rather a complicated piece of harness to a new chum, he got terribly
tangled up. After about ten minutes struggling, panting, perspiring, and
much whoo-whoaing, he succeeded in hanging the bridle on with the bit
over the horse's ears. At this stage an Artilleryman went to his rescue
and saddled his horse for him. When his turn came to ride, he led his
horse before the examining officer, and with much difficulty succeeded in
climbing into the saddle, and started off at a walk. "Trot!" shouted the
officer. The horse quickened its pace, and "Bland Holt" and his hopes of
doing yeoman service for the Empire fell to the ground.

This was one of many similar incidents which took place during the
fortnight the riding test lasted. About the end of March, 1900, I
received orders to go into camp at Langwarrin. During the encampment
there I acted as assistant to Camp Quartermaster-Sergeant Creaney, of the
Hastings Battery. My duties were principally to requisition for rations
and forage, and furnish returns to headquarters of any lost or worn-out
equipment. On 3rd April I received my first promotion, and was made
lance-corporal, and posted to the squadron under Captain J. Dallimore.
This officer was very highly esteemed by all, and for bravery during the
war he was promoted to the rank of major, and earned the D.S.O. While I
was at Portland Prison, some years later, I learned, with the deepest
regret, that the major had been accidentally drowned while fishing at
Warrnambool shortly after his return to Australia.

Things went on apace in camp. The equipment department worked night and
day transforming the civilian recruit into the puttied khaki soldier.
Camp life was very pleasant at Langwarrin, for our friends used to come
by the score, and bring well-filled hampers to picnic with us, and at
night a large camp fire would be lighted and a concert held, while there
was no fear of the enemy coming upon us unawares. On Sunday we were
besieged by thousands of visitors, who begged earnestly from the soldiers
a button or badge or some little keepsake as a memento. I myself was the
recipient of several new coins, of coins with holes in them and battered
halfpennies, which I was informed by the givers would bring me good luck.
I am afraid I was born under an unlucky star, for if there is such a
thing as luck, it did not come my way. I also received a presentation
from a few of my old friends of a very nice silver-mounted letter wallet,
with fountain pen and all the material necessary for a war correspondent,
in order, doubtless, to keep them posted up with my experiences and
doings and the number of Dutchmen I succeeded in despatching. The time
passed very pleasantly, but there was another side to this--it rained in
torrents for several days without ceasing, and the camp and horse lines
became a veritable quagmire. It was then decided to move the camp and
transfer the troops to the show-ground at Flemington. It was a memorable
"trek" when we moved out for Flemington in the pouring rain; it damped
the ardour of many a "contingenter," and numbers "handed in their kits."
I was sent on with a fatigue party to prepare rations and forage for the
rain-soaked troops and horses. But this was only for a few days; we had
scarcely settled down when we were moved again to Langwarrin, and by the
end of April all was in readiness for embarkation.

Lieut.-Colonel Kelly, of the Victorian Field Artillery, had been selected
to command the regiment. We left Langwarrin in full marching order about
midday on 28th April and reached Mentone, where we bivouacked. In the
morning my horse's nosebag was missing, but I found it some months later
on the South African veldt. We arrived in Melbourne about noon on 29th
April, and expected to embark the same afternoon on the transport
"Victorian," lying at the Port Melbourne pier. Through some hitch, the
boat was not ready to receive us, and we were again quartered at the
show-ground at Flemington. On Tuesday, 1st May, we broke up camp. It was
a glorious and never-to-be-forgotten day, and our march through the city
was signalised by an unparalleled demonstration of popular applause. The
streets were packed, and in places the troops could only pass in single
file. Handkerchiefs, sweets, and all kinds of good things were pressed
upon us as we passed through the crowd.

On arrival at the pier, the work of embarking the horses was at once
commenced, and over 700 were shipped and stalled in less than four hours.
Getting the troops on board was a more difficult matter, as there was so
much leave-taking and so many good-byes to say. The boat was cleared of
visitors and put off from the pier, anchoring for the night opposite
Williamstown. All on board was confusion and bustle, and many of the crew
had been having a jolly time and were incapable of performing their
duties. We got nothing that night in the shape of rations; fortunately we
had our haversacks to fall back on, which provided sufficient for the
day. Later on hammocks were brought out and slung. It was a new
experience for me to sleep in one, and I fancy I must have slung mine too
slack, for when I got into it my head and my feet almost touched, and I
think I must have resembled a mammoth wood-grub in repose. We weighed
anchor about 7 a.m. on Wednesday morning, and passed the heads about 11
a.m. I saw many of my old Queenscliff comrades signalling and
gesticulating from the forts as we passed through the Rip. The pilot was
next put off, and we were soon under way in earnest for South Africa.
Cape Otway was the last glimpse we had of the home land, and owing to the
"Victorian" keeping well out to sea, no more land was sighted until we
were off the coast of Madagascar.

As this was my first experience of a sea voyage, I fully expected that a
bout of sea-sickness would be part of the programme, but such was not the
case as far as I was concerned, and when I saw scores of my comrades
hanging limply over the side and lying like dead men about the deck, I
congratulated myself in the words of the Pharisee, "Thank God I am not as
other men are." Everything on board was soon got into ship-shape order,
and we lived fairly well. A large quantity of fruit and butter bad been
sent on board as a gift for the use of the troops, and was greatly
appreciated as a welcome addition to the bill of fare.

My duties were to assist the regimental quartermaster-sergeant, and
superintend the distribution of the horse feed. This was stowed in the
hold, hoisted up daily, and portioned out to the different squadrons. The
horses were a splendid lot, and stood the voyage remarkably well, only
one dying during the trip.

When about three days at sea a batch of stowaways made their appearance;
they looked a motley and grimy crowd as they emerged from the coal
bunkers. They were paraded before the ship's captain, who put them to
work on the coal for the remainder of the voyage. On arrival at Beira
they joined the Mashonaland Mounted Police. A little later we were
paraded before the medical officers and vaccinated; it affected some very
badly, and for a time they were quite incapable of doing any duty.

After about five days out I was agreeably surprised when I was informed
that I had been promoted to the rank of sergeant. I was put in charge of
a squad to instil into them the contents of the "Red Book" on Infantry
Drill. At times, when the boat gave a roll, more turnings were gone
through than were set down in the drill book.



CHAPTER II.

THE VOYAGE TO AFRICA.

It was now drill continuously all day and every day. Sergeant-Major
Oakes, of the Victorian Rangers, held a class of instruction for
non-commissioned officers every morning, and during the day
Lieut.-Colonel Kelly would read to us from the bridge extracts from
Queen's Regulations and Military Law, specially impressing upon us those
parts which referred to the first duty of a soldier, "obedience to
orders." Every Sunday church parade was held on deck; the services were
conducted by the Rev. Major Holden, who accompanied us as far as Beira.
Everyone had a good word for the chaplain, who was always moving about
among the men, providing them with all kinds of books and writing
material, and his many kindnesses were greatly appreciated by all. He
edited and published a paper on board named "The A.I. Register," which
was a great success. The demand for copies was so large that the supply
of paper ran out, and publication ceased after the first issue.

Occasionally we would have a shooting competition between the different
squadrons; an empty box or fruit case would be dropped overboard as a
target, and when it was about 200 yards away we would fire volleys at it.
The results were watched by a party of officers on the bridge, and points
were awarded for the best shooting. Almost every evening concerts were
held on deck, a very fine piano having been given for the use of the
troops by the Acting-Governor of Victoria, Sir John Madden. A phonograph
was also much in evidence, and at times a boxing contest would also be
indulged in.

When we began to steer north-west the weather became very hot, and
consequently trying for the troops, being almost unbearable day and
night. Beira Harbour was reached on the morning of 22nd May, 1900. The
British gunboat "Partridge" came out and met us. We were all very anxious
to know how the war was going, as we had not heard any news since leaving
Melbourne. Mafeking had been relieved on the 17th, but there was still
plenty to do. Pretoria had not then been occupied.

We anchored in the harbour, opposite the town. The "Armenian," with the
New South Wales contingent on board, had arrived a few days before, and
we were greeted with ringing cheers when we dropped anchor alongside.

As there was no pier, everything had to be landed in lighters. The horses
were taken off in a kind of flat-bottomed barge 20 ft. square; a tug boat
would take it within a chain or so of the land, and a team of Kaffirs
would then wade in and seize hold of a rope and haul it on to the beach.
Owing to the harbour being full of shipping, we had rather an exciting
time on one of the lighters. In dodging among the other boats, we got
foul of an anchor chain, and were cast adrift, starting off with the tide
at a great rate. Our tug-boat, while manoeuvring round to pick us up, was
run into by another tug. After much gesticulating and vociferating on the
part of the Portuguese captains, we were taken in tow again, and
eventually landed on the beach.

While we were waiting in the harbour, the "Manhattan" arrived with the
South Australian, West Australian, and Tasmanian contingents; she
afterwards returned to Durban and landed her troops there. The 24th being
the Queen's Birthday, there was a great display of bunting in the bay. At
night there were fireworks, and a patriotic concert held on board. We
sang "Boys of the Bulldog Breed," "Tommy Atkins," and "God Save the
Queen" till "lights out."

After landing at Beira, we encamped about half a mile outside the town,
adjoining the Remount Depot, where over 2000 horses, principally
Hungarian ponies, were paddocked. These ponies were real little beauties
to look at, and many looked fit to win a Melbourne Cup, but rather fine
for remounts.

Beira is a wretched little place, built on a narrow ridge of sand along
the beach. The old part of the town is built principally of galvanised
iron, with here and there standing out prominently a modern building of
brick, roofed with red tiles. The streets are usually ankle deep in loose
sand; narrow tramways are laid down along the streets, and townspeople
and tradesmen have their own private cars, which are pushed along by
Kaffirs. These cars take the place of vehicular traffic, cabs and
rickshaws being conspicuous by their absence. The cars are a motley
collection. Some are of very rude workmanship, pushed along by a couple
of dirty and almost naked Kaffirs, while others are of a more modern and
aristocratic type, being hooded and upholstered, and propelled by as many
as four gaily-dressed Kaffir boys. The railway (of 2-ft. gauge) and
trains were built on a miniature scale; it was quite amusing to see them
going along. Judging by the way the wheels went round, the smoke and
noise, one would think he was travelling at least 60 miles an hour, when
in reality he was travelling about six.

At this time troops were being sent into Rhodesia, and the Chartered
Company was laying down a broad gauge in place of the narrow gauge
between Salisbury and Beira. The contractor had completed it as far as
Bamboo Creek, a malaria-stricken swamp 90 miles inland from Beira, and I
wondered why the broader gauge was not pushed on to Beira, as the traffic
there had become very congested. From credible information I learned that
the contractors were getting £1000 per day for taking the troops through
the Portuguese territory, and doubtless had their own time to do it in.

It was scandalous that thousands of men, wholly unused to such a climate,
should be kept for months in such an unhealthy district, where fever and
dysentery were undermining the constitutions of hundreds of them.

Several corps of Australian Bushmen had arrived at Beira just a month
before us, and had gone through to Marrandellas. Some time after, the
following article with reference to them was written and published in an
English journal:--

To say that they were extremely annoyed would be describing their
feelings too mildly.

They were very savage; they forgot themselves slightly, and swore with
force and originality. They cursed Rhodesia, they cursed fate, they
cursed their various Governments, but mostly they cursed their
Governments, for they are a very political people these Australians,
weaned on manifestoes and reared on Parliamentary debates. They cursed
their Governments, knowing by heart their weaknesses, and ever ready to
attribute the non-success of any undertaking--be it political, social, or
warlike--to the dilatory action of certain members of the divers
Cabinets.

"The Government ought never to have sent us up here at all," a
Queenslander spoke with great earnestness, "if they wanted us to see any
fighting. Got to Beira in April, now it's June, and--"

They were "out of it." Pretoria was occupied. This was the news which had
spread the wave of pessimism over a little wayside camp on the
Bulawayoroad--a camp on the fringe of the long white road, which wound
south and dipped north.

The Sabakwe River trickled through the land, a stone's throw from the
white tilted waggons drawn tailboard to pole to form a rough laager, and
the heavy-eyed oxen stood knee-deep in its sluggish waters.

North, or rather north-east, several nights away, was Marrandellas. South
of that, and far, was Beira, and it was two months ago since they had
left. Two months, and Mafeking had been relieved, Johannesburg entered,
Pretoria occupied. Therefore the Bushmen, who dreamt not of Eland's
River, and to whom Zeerust was a name in a gazetteer, grew despondent.

"Do you think there is a chance of fighting, sir?"

I could not answer the Victorian who asked, nor did I have the heart to
reprove the Tasmanian who swore.

"Well," remarked the Queenslander, "all I can say is, that if we don't
see any fighting it will be a shame." He qualified shame. "We didn't come
out here to be piffled through this country." There was an adjective
before country. "If I wanted to admire scenery I'd have stayed in
Queensland. If I wanted gold I'd have gone to Rockhampton. As for land,
well, if any of you fellers want land I'll sell you a run of 6000 acres
of the best land in the world."

They are peculiar, the men who are holding Eland's River; they are not
soldiers as we in London know soldiers; they don't like shouldering arms
by numbers, and they vote squad drill "damn silly." They are poor
marching men, for they have been used to riding; they ride firmly, but
not gracefully. The horses they prefer are great, rough, upstanding
brutes that buck themselves into inverted V's when they are mounted, and
stand on their hind legs to express their joy. The Bushman will ride a
horse for a hundred miles without thinking it anything extraordinary, and
bring it in in good condition, but he cannot go for a couple of miles
without galloping the poor brute to death. He is very careful how he
feeds his mount, and would sooner go without food himself than his dumb
friend should be hungry, but it takes a troop-sergeant-major and three
corporals to make a Bushman groom his horse.

They are very patient, these men; their training makes them so. They have
learnt to sit by waterholes and watch sheep, dividing their time between
week-old papers and day-old lambs. Politics interest them; wars--ordinary
every-day war that does not call for their active interference--interest
them; but the price of wool interests them more than all these things.
Russian famines distress them, Indian plagues alarm them, but the blue
staring sky and the rain that comes not make lines round their eyes, and
puts grey into their beards.

They have got their own method of going out to fight, and that method is
as distinct from that of the regular Tommy as Tommy's is foreign to the
C.I.V.
Tommy goes forth to battle in a workmanlike manner. He seldom writes
farewell letters, but grabs a hunk of biscuit, gives his water-bottle a
shake to see how much he has got, buckles on his pouches and bayonet,
and, with the instinct bred on a dozen barrack squares, smooths the
creases out of his stained khaki jacket. Then he picks up his rifle and
eyes it critically, jerks back the bolt and squints up the barrel--Tommy,
the workman, is careful of his tools--pushes back the bolt, mechanically
snaps the trigger, fixes his helmet firmly on his head, and steps out to
join his company.

The C.I.V. when I knew him first was somewhat self-conscious. His rifle
was clean, his bandolier was ready to put on, his coat was nicely rolled,
his putties were evenly fixed; long before the fall-in bugle sounded he
was ready for parade--for he was very keen. When the bugle sounded he
picked up his rifle, not carelessly, as did his brother of the line, but
reverently and with care. He adjusted his broad-brimmed hat, he patted
his bayonet to see if it was there, and went out to face the pock-marked
trenches with the proud consciousness that at the worst he would make a
picturesque casualty.

The Bushman knows his rifle as the city man knows his walking-stick. He
feels neither contempt nor awe for it. It is a commercial asset, a
domestic property. Perhaps he keeps his wife in dresses by shooting
kangaroos; perhaps he keeps himself in whisky by tracking wallabies. His
equipment is scanty. He has a bandolier, perhaps a pouch, possibly a
mess-tin, certainly a "billy." When the parade-call goes he falls in with
his fellows, and numbers off from the right somewhat sheepishly. On
parade he is a unit and has to do as he's told, and he isn't quite used
to submitting his will to those of others in authority.

"Fours right!"

He wheels round awkwardly. If he makes a slip he causes his horse to buck
to cover his confusion.

"Walk--march!"

He is off, and he feels easier. Then comes the splitting up of his
squadron into little independent patrols, and he breathes freely, for
with a couple of kindred spirits on a scouting trip he is a man once more
with a soul of his own. He sees most things and acts quickly. Before the
"ping" of the sniper's bullet has died away he is off his horse and under
cover. Then, if the sniper is an intelligent man, he won't move about
much, for when a Bushman has located his quarry he can lie quite still
for an hour at a stretch, his cheek touching the stock, his finger
resting lightly on the trigger.

These are the men who are holding Eland's River--men who live on "damper"
and tea--men whose progress through Rhodesia was marked by many dead
horses and much profanity.

They wanted to fight badly. They prayed that they might get into a tight
place. Their prayer is answered.

If you knew the Eland's River garrison you would not pity them, you would
rejoice with them.



CHAPTER III.

ROUND ABOUT BEIRA.

Life in camp at Beira was almost a repetition of Langwarrin, being
principally occupied in attending to and exercising the horses. On my
arrival in camp I was instructed by Captain Dallimore to act as
squadron-quartermaster-sergeant; my duties were to see that rations and
forage were drawn daily and all camp equipment kept in order.
Occasionally I went out on the veldt when exercising the horses; there
appeared to be plenty of game about, and whenever a small buck rose up
close to us there would be a hue-and-cry after it. Sometimes we would
succeed in running it down in the long grass. It was rather dangerous
sport galloping through the long grass, as one was very likely to come a
nasty cropper over a hidden ant-heap. We were not allowed to take rifles
out with us, but a revolver would always be forthcoming; this was used
instead, but never with very great success.

On one of these outings I got my first glimpse of the Kaffirs at home.
The kraals are neat little round grass huts, much resembling the
old-fashioned straw bee-hives, with one small opening as a door, but so
small that one would require to go on all-fours to get inside.
Gaunt-looking natives, clad in only a "moucha," or loin cloth, sat lazily
about, while little picaninnies, naked as when born, played around. The
women, who appeared to be doing all the work, would dart inside like
rabbits into a burrow when anyone approached. When we came up a group had
been busily engaged round a large pot of Kaffir corn, black-looking stuff
resembling linseed meal when cooked.

My opinion of the Kaffir, which was formed after later experiences, is
not a good one. In his raw state, in his skins and cats' tails, he is
physically and morally not a bad fellow; he will work intermittently, and
much like a child, as if it were play. But as soon as he has been brought
into contact with the civilising influence of the mission stations, and
has discarded his cats' tails for European dress, and begins to ape the
white man, he becomes a bore, and combines all the white man's vices with
his own innate cunning and deceit, and his ruin is accomplished. He will
not work in the hot sun, and when it is cold or raining is the most
miserable of creatures, and almost incapable of work. The Dutchmen could
only manage them by instilling energy into them from the end of a
"sjambok."

As a fighting man the Kaffir is worse than useless. I would rather have
one white man than a whole regiment of Kaffirs.

Most men who have had any lengthened experience among so-called
Christianised natives, and have studied the work of the missionaries
among them, are inclined to term mission stations "bosh," and the
stations are rarely supported by anyone who has studied them from behind
the scenes.

In return for his labour the native receives a smattering of education,
and it is not unusual to meet a young native in the vicinity of a mission
station with his face buried in a preparatory primer, ejaculating from
memory, "I see a dog," "This is my dog," "God is my father," "God is in
heaven."

As the coloured population in South Africa runs into many millions, the
native question will always remain a big item in South African politics.
Until polygamy and other privileges he now enjoys under tribal rights and
customs are abolished the Kaffir will never become a good worker. At
present he is allowed to have as many wives as he wishes; it is not "as
many as he can afford to keep," for they are practically his slaves, and
do the work to keep him, while he idles about the kraal smoking and
drinking "joualla" or Kaffir beer. With proper legislation, management,
and treatment coloured labour would never need to be imported to South
Africa. The evils of the importation are seen to-day in Natal, where the
Hindu holds the monopoly in many trades.



CHAPTER IV.

ON THE SICK LIST.

The country about Beira is very flat, and at times much of the land
becomes flooded, and the roads have to be raised six or eight feet to be
passable. During our stay there the Portuguese Governor and suite paid a
visit to the New South Wales camp, which had been grandly decorated for
the occasion with palms, banana trees, and other tropical vegetation. His
Excellency greatly admired the troops and the splendid condition of the
Australian horses; also Captain Ryrie's unique exhibition of boomerang
throwing.

We had been at Beira nearly a month, during which time troops had been
dribbling through to Rhodesia. At last it was our turn to be passed on to
Bamboo Creek; we entrained at four in the afternoon, and reached Bamboo
Creek at three in the morning--90 miles in eleven hours. It was
considered quite a record trip. We had been very fortunate in that the
train had kept on the rails the whole way without a break-down or a
smash-up; I had noticed broken and overturned rolling-stock at intervals
along the line.

About five miles out from Beira we passed through a belt of typical
tropical jungle, dense undergrowth of bamboo and scrub, while overhead
the trees were decked with parasite plant life, and festooned with many
kinds of creeper. The Queensland bean was very prominent, its gigantic
pods from six to eight feet in length hanging from the stems.

We stayed at Bamboo Creek four days--quite long enough, judging by the
look of the cemetery opposite the camp, which had been well filled from
the Imperial Yeomanry who had passed through ahead of us, a number having
been employed in the workshops there building rolling-stock.

The town consisted of a couple of tin shanties, where the principal drink
sold was bad wine. I had been left behind with a party of men to strike
camp and gather up all camp equipment that remained, and entrain it for
Umtali; I was not sorry when we got on our way. After travelling all
night we stopped at Mandegas for breakfast and to feed the horses.

The country round here consists of vast plains; the landscape is bare and
uninviting, and deficient in water and tree growth. After leaving
Mandegas behind, the physical features of the country begin to change;
isolated kopjes rise out of the veldt, and bold and picturesque outlines
of ranges appear in the distance. We wound our way through the rugged
gorges of Massi-Kessi, an important gold-mining district on the plateau
which stretches along the Portuguese boundary, and, passing into
Mashonaland, arrived at Umtali, in Rhodesia, and pitched our camp in the
station yard.

I was favourably impressed with this town on account of the number and
character of its buildings, its telephone service, and general up-to-date
appearance; it is one of those little towns that are just moving ahead on
account of the rich goldfields in the neighbourhood. It is prettily
situated in a kind of great basin, almost surrounded by high mountain
ranges. A little agriculture is done in this district, a settlement of
Dutch farmers having been placed there by Cecil Rhodes, who himself had a
model farm a little to the north.

The grass grew very long and rank, and appeared as if it would carry any
number of stock. The Chartered Company afterwards put on it a thousand
head of cattle which had been shipped from Australia and brought in via
Beira. I afterwards met one of the men who had gone over with them and
herded them at Umtali; he informed me that the experiment had been a
complete failure; although they had arrived in splendid condition, the
whole of them died within six months, and he had been stricken with
malarial fever.

We were now in British territory, so it was decided to leave the railway
and go on "trek" to Marrandellas; the Dutch settlers furnished the
transports. Leaving Umtali we took the road through Christmas Pass, and
rose several thousand feet as we wound our way through the mountains
which encircle the town. The scenery as we rose higher and higher became
more magnificent and enchanting; all around us was rank vegetation, among
which ferns and beautiful wild flowers grew in great profusion, and
gay-plumaged birds flitted about. Occasionally we got a glimpse of a
distant landscape of fantastic and rugged grandeur, glorified by the
setting sun. The climate being dry and the air so remarkably clear, even
at a great distance the landscape stands out very distinctly.

We passed through Old Umtali, which had been a flourishing little
settlement before the railway line was built, and had been the scene of
much fighting during the last native insurrection. A mission station was
about all that remained, and in its garden I noticed old rifle barrels
being used to stake young fruit-trees. Along the road were deserted and
tumble-down farm houses, once the homes of struggling settlers whom the
natives had swooped down upon and massacred; this was made painfully
evident by the lonely graves close by.

After five days' trekking through bush veldt country we reached Rusapi, a
small trading station on the railway about half way between Umtali and
Marrandellas; we bivouacked near the river. I shall always have a lively
recollection of this camp. I turned in as usual after dark--that is, I
rolled myself up in my blanket, and lay on the ground with my saddle for
a pillow. It was a bitterly cold night, but being tired I soon dropped
off to sleep. Towards morning I woke with a most awful pain in my right
knee, which had become very stiff and much swollen. I began to think of
snakes and poisonous insects, but on examination I could find no trace of
anything having bitten me. With the assistance of one of my comrades I
went in search of the doctor, who examined me, and informed me that I was
suffering from a severe attack of "synovitis" (inflammation of the
membranes of the joint). He ordered me to be taken on one of the
transport waggons and to bathe my knee with cold water as often as
possible.

That ride, which lasted seven days, was one of the most agonising of my
experiences. I sat on the top of the waggon, which was loaded with
supplies, and was unable even to lie down with any comfort, while the
bumping and jolting intensified the pain until it became almost
unbearable. At night, when we outspanned, I would lie under the waggon
out of the night dews. Sleep was out of the question; I could only listen
to the jackals and hyenas howling round the camp.

In the daytime I would try to chum in with the Dutch driver, but I found
him extremely taciturn; he would sit on the front of the waggon and smoke
all day, and it was only when we got stuck in a drift, or at some other
tight pinch, that he would get off and flog the oxen most unmercifully.
One of the oxen, which was a bit of a warrigal, or a "bi-schellum" as he
termed it, he named "Englishman," and when the whip was being used poor
"Englishman" received more attention than the rest of the team put
together. Racial hatred was then at a very high pitch, and no opportunity
was lost in giving expression to it. Although, perhaps, since peace was
declared opinions are not so openly discussed, in the hearts of the Dutch
race this hatred undoubtedly still exists, and is likely to exist through
generations yet to come, though in the meantime it may be kept in check
through the rifle and at the point of the sword.

As we continued our journey, on one occasion we got stuck in a drift or
ford, among rocks and boulders. After several unsuccessful attempts to
get out, our team was supplemented by another span; the result was
equally unsuccessful. A third was then attached, making a span of nearly
sixty oxen; again they tried to start, the drivers and natives shrieking,
slashing, swearing, and shouting as though Pandemonium were let loose.
This time the pole broke, and the waggon was left standing in the stream;
eventually it was got upon the bank and the teams outspanned while the
pole was repaired. When nearing Marrandellas the troops went on into
camp, leaving the transports some five or six miles out on the road. We
had camped for the night, and my leg was so stiff and painful that I
could not put it to the ground. I was anxiously waiting for the morrow,
when I would be able to go into hospital and get some kind of treatment.

During the evening a spring cart was sent out from the camp to the
waggons for the officers' kits, and I embraced what I thought was an
opportunity of getting into hospital instead of spending another night on
the veldt. I was put in the cart, and all went well for about two miles,
when we came to a drift with a steep bank on either side. As soon as we
started on the upgrade, the horse stopped dead, and neither whip nor
coaxing would make him move. After about an hour wasted in various
expedients, and when the resources of the driver had been exhausted, he
decided to take the brute back to camp and return with a fresh animal,
promising faithfully to return in about two hours.

I lay on the ground wrapped in a horse-rug, quite alone, and waited; hour
after hour passed, but no driver returned. The night was extremely cold;
I had no fire, and very little covering, and I did not get a wink of
sleep. All night long wild animals made the night hideous with weird and
blood-curdling sounds. Lying there in the dark, helpless and unarmed, I
could hear the sound of sticks breaking only a few yards away, and as my
ideas of Rhodesia were largely associated with lions and other man-eating
carnivora, I concluded that before morning there would be a vacancy for a
sergeant in my regiment.

Shortly after daylight the driver put in an appearance, and a start was
made for the camp, which was reached about 8 o'clock. After being
examined by the medical officer, I was taken on to the hospital and
admitted. The hospital was a low, corrugated iron building, filled with
canvas stretchers, and each patient had to provide his own bedding, which
in many cases was teeming with vermin. The food was wretched and the
attendance worse.

The food consisted principally of hashed-up "Maconochie ration" (a
mysterious kind of tinned meat and vegetables) and boiled rice, with
occasionally a bit of bread in lieu of army biscuits. This would be
placed in the doorway by the cook in a couple of large pots, from which
the patients had to help themselves; those who were unable to get up ran
a risk of getting nothing at all unless they had a comrade to serve them.

There were three or four hospital orderlies, whose time appeared to be
occupied in bossing some half a dozen Kaffir boys. I would have almost
starved if I had not been able to get provisions from outside, which my
comrades purchased for me from the canteen; most of this food was
"commandeered" by the night orderlies while I slept. A wash was a luxury
and a bath unknown. My knee had first been strapped in plaster, then
blistered, and afterwards put in a splint and tightly bandaged, and I was
ordered complete rest. No part of this treatment seemed to do me any
good. After I had been in hospital fifteen days, a Medical Board came and
sat around me, and examined me, and decided to invalid me home to
Australia. I pleaded to be allowed to remain, or sent to the Cape for a
change; but I was informed that it would probably be months before I
would be fit for mounted duty again.

I was taken, with about forty other invalids, and put on board the train.
The accommodation was disgraceful, and the management scandalous. A few
men who had rheumatic fever were helpless and incapable of moving, while
others were debilitated and weakened by malaria and dysentery; all were
indiscriminately herded together in a couple of covered-in trucks,
amongst baggage kit and rations. The rations provided consisted of the
usual boulli beef and biscuits, with a little jam--no "medical comforts,"
not even bread.

There was one carriage on the train that was monopolised by an Imperial
Yeomanry officer and a few of his men, who were being "invalided" home as
useless; in his charge we were sent to the coast. Dr. Kelly, a Victorian
who accompanied us, did all in his power under the circumstances. At
Umtali he arranged for us to be supplied with suitable food from the
railway refreshment rooms, and here we secured a stock for the remainder
of the journey. Another carriage was attached to the train, and four of
us commandeered a compartment, and made ourselves comfortable in a
four-berth sleeper. An Imperial Yeomanry lance-corporal came along, and
affecting a lot of bounce, wanted to eject us, as the room was wanted for
some of his comrades. We told him what we thought of him in good
Australian language, and remained in possession.

Leaving at 7 in the morning, we arrived at Beira at 11 the following
day--running through without a break in the journey, as the broad gauge
railway had been completed. We pulled up in the station yard, as there
were then no platforms to the stations. Our kit and baggage were thrown
out on the metals, and we were turned out to find our way as best we
could to the Beach Hotel, where we were to be billeted. No arrangements
whatever had been made to take us from the station to the hotel, a
distance of about half a mile. After waiting alone for a considerable
time, I hailed a good Samaritan who happened to be passing. He kindly
placed his car and "boys" at my disposal, and put me down at the door of
the hotel just in time for lunch, the first respectable meal I had had
for months.

We remained in Beira three weeks waiting for a boat to Capetown. In the
meantime, under the treatment of Dr. Kelly, my knee had greatly improved,
and during the last week I was able to get about with the assistance of a
stick.

It is said that when one is in Rome one must do as Rome does; the same
applied to Beira. Sports, cricket matches, and bull fights are always
held there on Sunday. On the second Sunday after our arrival, the opening
of the Vasco Da Gama Park, which is prettily situated on a jungly
sand-dune at the back of the town, took place. In the afternoon athletic
sports were held. The most amusing event of the day was the natives'
race, in which between three and four hundred natives of all sorts and
sizes competed; native policemen were stationed round the course, and
frequently used their knob-kerries upon the heads of luckless natives who
tried to take a short cut.

On the Sunday following, a bull fight took place--the ideal sport of the
Spanish and Portuguese nations. It had been much talked about; wild bulls
had been procured, and a splendid day's sport assured. We Australians
thought it rather an amusing farce. The wild bulls turned out to be a
couple of hump-backed native cattle, small under-sized beasts, with very
little spirit about them. One was brought in and pursued round the arena
by a gorgeously-dressed matador, who annoyed and worried the poor brute
by striking it with darts. When at last it turned and showed fight, it
was immediately hustled out of the ring, and another of a milder
disposition brought in. Much of the same by-play was gone through, but
this time the matador, by a quick movement, threw a cloak over the bull's
head, and falling between its horns, was carried round the arena. This
final masterpiece was greeted with wild and vociferous shrieks by the
onlookers.

While staying at the Beach Hotel, I made the acquaintance of Mr. Bill
Upsher, a well-known South African big game hunter; he had just returned
from a trip to England, and was busily engaged in fitting out a shooting
expedition to the Zambesi for an Austrian count. I was extremely anxious
to hear him recount a few of his experiences and hair-breadth escapes,
but, like many whose lives are spent chiefly in the bush, away from
civilisation, and amid surroundings constantly fraught with danger, he
was singularly retiring and taciturn.

In dealing with native prisoners, the Portuguese have rather a novel
method, which is almost a survival of the Marshalsea of Dickens' days.
Convicted natives must provide their own food, which is obtained by the
sale of native work; two natives are chained together with heavy chains,
and, escorted by a native policeman, are allowed to hawk their wares
round the town for sale.

The Beira Constabulary, dressed in their smart khaki uniforms and
Baden-Powell type of hats and armed with cutlass and revolver, are rather
a formidable body of little men. In conversation with one, who could
speak English well, he told me he had been a soldier and had fought in
the Kaffir wars during the early settlement of the town. He became quite
excited when relating his experiences, and stated that "the Kaffirs
swarmed upon us in thousands, and we shot them down in millions! and then
the terrible fever! and the breakdown of the commissariat! We had no food
and were starving, and as a last resource had to eat dead Kaffir. The big
church over the way was built in commemoration of the troops who died
during that terrible war."



CHAPTER V.

THE AUSTRALIANS IN CAPETOWN.

On leaving Beira we embarked on the German mail-boat "Kronprinz" for
Durban, calling en route at Delagoa Bay, where we remained four days
discharging cargo. About 2000 tons were put off, consisting principally
of tinned beef; a few lighter loads of stuff, probably munitions of war,
were prohibited, and had to be put again on the boat. The number of
gunboats lying in the harbour gave it the appearance of a naval station;
several European nations were represented there.

This harbour is one of the finest on the east coast, the river being
navigable for big shipping for nearly twenty miles. The town of Lorenzo
Marques, prettily situated on rising ground on the north side, is a
flourishing little place, and likely from its natural advantages to
become in time the first port of commerce on the east coast. When the
low-lying swamps in the neighbourhood are drained and reclaimed, malaria
will no longer be dreaded, and European children will be able to grow up
there with rosy cheeks.

Our pleasant voyage to Durban was marred by a tragic incident on board.
One day, after the German Band had been playing as usual from the saloon
deck, a bandsman who had received a slight reproof, hastened to his cabin
and blew his brains out with a revolver. The incident appeared to cause
but a momentary flutter; the corpse was wrapped in canvas and weighted
and dropped overboard, almost before it was cold. Next day the matter was
forgotten.

Durban was reached after a run of eight days. The sea was too rough to
cross the bar into the harbour, and we all were well shaken as we were
swung over the side in baskets on to a tender, which took us off to the
landing stage.

We were now transferred to the "Persia," an ancient and rickety-looking
transport, which was lying alongside the wharf. I believe she had broken
her propeller shaft when taking her first load of troops to Africa; she
looked as if she had been at the bottom of the sea for fifty years, and
had been suddenly hauled up and set off when the war broke out. She was a
splendid exhibit from the War Office, whose administrators seemed to us
to consist of a number of gilt-and-tasselled drawing-room knights,
sitting with their feet on velvet pile to consider the binding of a blue
book or to unwind a fresh piece of red tape.

On board the "Persia" there were about 500 other invalids on their way
home; the accommodation and food were in keeping with the rest of the
boat. We remained at Durban for nearly a week, and were allowed to go
ashore during the day; much of my time was spent in "rickshaw" rides. The
"rickshaw" boys, with their grotesque head-dress of feathers and horns,
are fine specimens of the Zulu native; when touting for hire they fairly
besiege a prospective fare, pirouetting and capering round in most
striking attitudes, at the same time informing you that "Me good boy,
boss!" One will go a little better with, "Me very flash boy, boss!" and
start kicking up his heels and shying half-way across the road and back
again. When one is selected, the others with ejaculations of
disappointment return to their stands, ready to charge the next
passer-by.

On Sunday a party of us drove round the Berea to Umgeni, a very pretty
little pleasure resort situated among the hills, and much patronised by
Durbanites; the scenery there was picturesque and pleasing, much of the
country being covered with sugar plantations and orange groves. The
Berea, a chain of hills at the back of the town, is the "Toorak" of
Durban; splendid mansions and pretty villas peep from gardens of
luxuriant tropical growth, and look out upon the town, the harbour, the
Bluff, and the open sea beyond.

Leaving Durban, we arrived at Capetown after a five days' trip, which was
the roughest and worst we had experienced. The "Persia" was a very
narrowly-built boat, and rolled considerably, and a great sigh of relief
went up from many hearts when Lion's Head and Table Mountain were
sighted; we did indeed pity the poor fellows who had the ill-luck to be
invalided home in such a boat.

We landed at South Arm Quay, and were drafted to the different hospitals.
I was among those who went to Green Point Military Hospital, which was
situated at the back of the racecourse. The racecourse was also being
used as a camp for Boer prisoners of war; several thousands were
quartered there.

On reception at the hospital, my kit and clothing were taken into store,
and I was provided with a blue hospital suit, and was told I must not go
outside the hospital grounds. The rules savoured very much of prison
life, and I longed to get away from the place. The following day the
medical officer came to me, and inquired my port of destination, as it
was intended to ship us to Australia by the first out-going boat. I
informed him that I had no wish to return home just yet; my knee had
greatly improved since leaving Rhodesia, and I would probably be fit for
duty again in a few weeks. I requested to be sent to the Australasian
Depot at Maitland camp. This request was granted, and two days later I
was sent there. Though still very lame, I was able to get about and
assist the sergeant-major with the camp duties of the depot.

Shortly afterwards the depot staff was reorganised, and I was appointed
quartermaster-sergeant, an appointment which was in no way a sinecure. I
had more than I could do, and with an assistant was always kept busy
equipping drafts of troops for the front, attending and providing clothes
to invalided men at the military hospitals at Woodstock, Wynberg, Green
Point, and Rondebosch.

Maitland camp was situated about five miles from Capetown, on the left
side of the Salt River, opposite the Observatory; it was the cavalry and
artillery depot of the district, which included the South African Mounted
Irregular Forces and all oversea colonials. The latter when off the veldt
were the most difficult of any troops to deal with; when at the front
they would fight and fight and face grim death without the quiver of a
muscle; but it was almost a hopeless task to try to make them conform to
ordinary barrack-room discipline. I had from 100 to 150 of these men
under me, yet it was impossible to get more than a few on parade for camp
duties.

I was often compelled, though I did it with great reluctance, to place a
number of these men under arrest for insubordination; the effect it had
on them was not worth the trouble. The only time I could rely on getting
a full muster was at "pay parade," which was most religiously attended.
On one occasion the camp regimental sergeant-major required a number of
men and instructed me to parade every available man at once. I
immediately went to the Australians' quarters and shouted, "Fall in for
pay!" This had the desired effect. I secured about fifty, and handed them
over to the regimental sergeant-major, to the surprise and disappointment
of many sick, lame, and tired "soldiers of the King" who had been
disturbed from their afternoon's naps. Vengeance upon me was mooted, and
"tossing in a blanket" suggested. They had been grievously taken in;
their annoyance passed off, however, and in a few days I had the intense
satisfaction of taking them to the docks and embarking them for home. Old
scores were then forgotten, and as the tender put off they gave three
cheers for their sergeant-major, an honour which greatly amused me and
was as much appreciated.

These men were not altogether to blame; they should never have been sent
to Maitland, which was a duty camp. They had been crowded out of the
hospitals as soon as convalescent, and sent there to await embarkation,
instead of being sent to a convalescent depot. They absolutely refused to
mount guard or do picquet and fatigue duties. During this time the
bubonic plague was raging in Capetown, and a plague camp was established
near Maitland. One day the New South Wales Mounted Rifles arrived in camp
from up-country, and while waiting to embark for home were ordered to
furnish guards for the plague camp. A non-commissioned officer refused to
do this duty, and was court-martialled and sentenced to three months'
imprisonment, which he underwent at the Castle Military Prison, Capetown.

This punishment was, I suppose, merited for insubordination; but these
men had been fighting nobly and well at the front, and on the eve of
their departure for home should not have been called upon to do duty at
an infectious disease camp. The day following they would probably be
rushed on to a crowded transport, and scandals similar to that of the
"Drayton Grange," where men died like rotten sheep from an infectious
disease, were inevitable; even a dreaded plague might be scattered
broadcast wherever they might land.

During the plague scare at Capetown a case occurred in the men's quarters
at the Australasian depot. It happened at a most inopportune time, and
the results were disastrous. Preparation had been made to despatch a
batch of invalids home; everything was in readiness, the men had their
kits packed, and were being put through a medical examination prior to
leaving camp, when one man, a New South Wales Artilleryman, was found to
have symptoms of plague. This necessitated the whole of the men being
quarantined and removed from their quarters. A camp under canvas was
formed near the bank of the Salt River; the men were extremely annoyed,
and vented their spite on the offending huts. They armed themselves with
sticks, stones, and a couple of axes, and raided their late quarters.
They smashed every window, broke down the doors, tables, and forms, and
hacked and hewed at the iron walls. In a few minutes the place was almost
demolished, and it was intended to finish up by setting fire to the
ruins, but progress was stopped by the arrest of four of the ringleaders.
These were called upon for the amount of the damages, which was paid
without a murmur. The men afterwards wrecked a newspaper office in
Capetown, the journal published there having passed disparaging remarks
on their previous actions at Maitland, and on Australians generally.

The Canadians were attached to the Australasian depot. These men were
some of the finest irregular soldiers that ever carried a rifle. There
were miners from Klondyke, hunters from the backwoods, troopers from the
Northwest Frontier Police, and included were some of the "hardest cases"
that the land of the maple leaf ever produced; these were past-masters in
the use of unique expletives, and for downright and original profanity it
would hardly be posible to find their equal. An officer would remonstrate
with his men in most candid terms, but for all this they were the men
above all others for a tight place or a desperate enterprise, and they
rigidly adhered to the rule of never allowing their enemies to trouble
them a second time.

The following poem appeared about this time in "The
Navy Illustrated":--

Oh, bitter blew the western wind and chilled us to the bone,
From mountain top to mountain top it made its weary moan,
While we, Strathcona's Horse, rode on, in silence and alone.

The darkness closed around us like a monk's hood gathered tight,
It pressed upon our eyeballs, sealing up the sense of sight,
And mocked us with false flashes of a brain-begotten light.

With straining at the silence grew our hearing thunder-proof;
The moaning blast in vain flung back its echo from the kloof,
The very ground on which we rode struck dumbly to the hoof.

And no man spake, nor dared so much as loose his tethered tongue,
Which else in fevered agony from blackened lips had hung,
But now, with limpet grip compelled, to cheek and palate clung.

Strathcona's Horse had never borne the fear mark on their brow;
The oak sap was their blood--the thews, the supple maple bough;
Their swords were fashioned from the share that shod their prairie
plough.

Then why those white, drawn faces? Why those breasts that strain and heave?
Those eyes that see but darkness? And those tongues that parch and cleave?
It was the tale the Zulu scout brought southward yester eve.

It was the same old tale--the farm, the false white flag, the foe;
And four good British lads that fell where murder laid them low.
Strathcona's Horse their purpose knew--the morning, too, should know.

On! on! there's twenty miles and more between us and the prey,
And still the scout, with bleeding feet, directs our weary way,
And still our eyes strain eastward for the coming of the day.

A dark ravine, whose beetling sides o'erhang the path we tread--
A faint grey line, a spot of light, with shimmering haze o'er-spread--
A wreath of smoke--the farm, the farm, six hundred yards ahead.

But see--the Zulu lied. God bless that faithless, perjured black!
Those British lads died not, but live. On yonder chimney stack
Behold, wrapped in the morning mist, our flag, the Union Jack!

Strathcona's Horse rode forward with a swift Canadian swing,
Their hearts with joy o'erflowing, and the teardrops glistening--Ping!
Halt! What was that? Hell's fury! 'twas the Mauser's deadly ring.

Oh, fathomless the treacherous depths within the Boer breast!
It was the foe had raised that flag above their devil's nest,
While stark and stiff four corpses lay where murder bade them rest.

Strathcona's Horse rode forward, though there fell both horse and man;
They spake no word, but every brain conceived the self-same plan:
Through every vein and nerve and thew the self-same purpose ran.

What though the Mausers raked the line, and tore great gaps between?
What though the thick clay walls stood firm, the ambushed foe to screen?
There was a deed to do, whose like the world had seldom seen.

They stormed the palisades, which crashed beneath their furious stroke;
The doors with staves they battered in, the barricades they broke--
And then they bound the fiends within, with Mausers for a yoke.

Swift to the ending of the deed, yet only half begun,
The daylight grows: there's bloody work still waiting to be done--
Six corpses swing athwart the face of God's own rising sun.

Bury in peace our own dear dead;--then comrades, ride away;
Yet leave a mark that all may know, who hitherward shall stray,
Strathcona's Horse it was that paid a visit here to-day.

'Twas thus Strathcona's Horse left Vengeance sitting by her shrine,
Where six accursed corpses broke the grey horizon line,
Their flesh to feed the vultures, and their bones to be a sign.

I also extract the following from a South African paper published in
April, 1901:--"A member of Strathcona's Horse writes to me of the
gratification felt by that body at having been the first regiment to be
presented with the King's colours in recognition of services rendered on
the field of battle. It is described as a Union Jack of silk, trimmed
with gold, and having gold tassels, and at the top of the staff a gold
crown surmounted by a lion. To the flagstaff is fixed a silver plate,
engraved with a crown and this inscription:--'Presented by His Majesty
the King to Lord Strathcona's Corps, in recognition of services rendered
to the Empire in South Africa--1900.'"

On one occasion, when embarking invalids for Australia on board the
"Persic," which was lying in the roadstead in Table Bay, I met several
old acquaintances. I had been in conversation with them down below for
about ten minutes, when to my great consternation I felt the vibration of
the engines, and found that the "Persic" was on her way to Australia. I
rushed to the bridge and called the captain, and informed him of my
predicament; he stopped the boat, which by this time had passed outside
the breakwater, and hailing a sailing smack that happened to be passing,
I, with no little difficulty, got on board and was landed at the docks
again. A man never knows his fate; what seemed to me then to be a stroke
of ill-luck may have been a visit from my guardian angel in disguise,
for, as subsequent events proved, it would perhaps have been better for
me if the "Persic" had carried me away unawares to Australia.

After being about four months at Maitland camp, I as anxious to rejoin my
regiment. My knee, to all appearance, was perfectly well, and I had got
rid of my lameness, though during this time I had not attempted to ride a
horse. Then Lord Roberts was about to come to Capetown to embark for
home, and I was selected to form one of the escort to meet him on his
arrival. As soon as I began to take mounted exercise my knee again became
troublesome, and my eagerness to take part in the reception cost me
another three months' limping.

Some time after this the camps at Maitland were closed, and the Cavalry,
Artillery, Irregular and Imperial Yeomanry troops were concentrated at
the Military Camp on the Green Point Common. The common was once a
beautiful grassy down, but the traffic of a large camp had so ploughed it
up that it was knee deep in loose sand, and the wind, almost constantly
blowing, carried sand with it everywhere.



CHAPTER VI.

COMMISSIONED IN THE BUSHVELDT CARBINEERS.

About this time I made the acquaintance of Major Lenehan, officer
commanding the Bushveldt Carbineers, and had a conversation with him
regarding a commission in his corps. He told me that he was about to get
a gun section attached to it, and if I could raise a detachment of men he
would give me command. I recruited a number of time-expired Australians,
and several Imperial Royal Horse Artillerymen. On several occasions I
applied for my discharge to enable me to take up my commission, but this
was not permitted until my regiment returned home for disbandment.

In June, 1901, I embarked on the "Orient" at Capetown and rejoined my
regiment at East London. There I received a temporary discharge from the
Victorian Imperial Bushmen. I received a telegraph message from the
O.C.B.V.C., Pietersburg, informing me that my appointment as lieutenant
had been confirmed, and directing me to proceed to Pietersburg with any
men I could get together there. I prevailed upon thirty returning
Australians to remain and join the Carbineers and form the gun
detachment. I had them sworn in and equipped at the local recruiting
depot.

The saddlery issued to these men was practically useless. How any man or
body of men could pass such worthless shoddy is beyond comprehension, and
reflects sadly on the judgment of the Supplies Board. The saddles were
without a vestige of stuffing, and the stirrup-irons were cumbersome
pieces of ironwork, weighing over 7 lbs., and so narrow that an
ordinary-sized boot would not fit into them--just the kind of equipment
to cripple the rider and ruin the horse at the same time. As soon as it
was taken into camp at Pietersburg the whole of it was condemned and
returned to the ordnance stores.

While at East London with a few others, I went one day into a café for
lunch. We met a young fellow there who had come from Gippsland, Victoria.
He had been drinking rather heavily during his stay in the town. He sat
down at the table, and was served with soup; when he had finished he got
up to pay for it and go out. He was not hungry, and did not care for
anything to eat; he only felt thirsty. "How much for the soup?" he
inquired. "Half a crown for the dinner," was the reply. "But I only had a
plate of soup!" "That makes no difference; you pay for the dinner." So he
sat down again and called for more soup. Another and another was called
for, until six plates had been served; then he paid for the dinner, and
went out satisfied that he had had his money's worth, and had not been
"taken down."

On 4th July I left East London en route for Pietersburg. During the day
United States citizens were to be seen in gay attire driving through the
town, displaying little flags of the Stars and Stripes. They were
celebrating their national holiday.

Leaving by the evening mail train with the troops I had recruited, we
reached Queenstown the following morning. Branching off at Stormberg
Junction, we went on to Nauupoort, where the train stabled for the night.
The following day we reached Norval's Pont; we travelled then only in the
daytime, and reached Pretoria on the afternoon of the 11th.

As there was no train to Pietersburg until the following day, I spent a
little time looking round Pretoria, visiting the church square, which is
surrounded by the Government buildings of the late Republic, and in the
centre of which stood the unfinished statue of President Kruger, a
striking parallel to the nation of which he had been the head. I then
visited Kruger's church and residence, with its two white lions guarding
the entrance with silent irony.

Close to the railway station is the public market square, which in days
before the war would be crowded with the waggons and teams of the Boer
farmers, who came to sell or barter their odds and ends of farm produce.
Near by was the Pretoria Museum, containing much-prized relics of their
old voortrekkers, of their earlier wars and Jameson's raid, and specimens
of South African game. This was a great resort of the Boer farmer to
instruct the rising generation in the history of their country. After
admiring the old guns with which they had fought so bravely and so well,
they would turn to a model of one of Donald Currie's liners--"There is
the big ship that brings the rooineks over the sea water." Then, pointing
to an assvogel--"There is the bird that eats the rooineks when we shoot
them like bushbuck on the veldt."

Leaving Pretoria on the morning of the 12th July, we passed Haman's
Kraal, where the previous night there had been some sharp fighting, and
the Dutchmen had got away with a number of cattle; the armoured train
picked us up here and escorted us to Nylstroom, where we remained for the
night. Kitchener's Fighting Scouts were lying alongside the station,
having come in to refit. In the morning I met Major Lenehan, who had
arrived by train from Pietersburg. I paraded my men for inspection, and
was complimented for my efforts in getting together such a fine troop of
men.

Leaving Nylstroom for Pietersburg, we passed a spot at Naboonspruit which
was marked by nineteen fresh graves. Only a few days before a train had
been wrecked there by Boers; an officer, Lieutenant Best, of the Gordon
Highlanders, a personal friend of the late Captain Hunt and Lieutenant
Morant, had been killed, also eighteen men, including the driver,
firemen, and guard of the train. I saw the truck at Warm Baths Station in
which these men were shot down; the iron walls had been about as much
protection from Mauser bullets as a sheet of paper; the truck was riddled
like a sieve. On arrival at Pietersburg, I was met by Lieutenants Edwards
and Baudinet; the latter I had known for some time at Capetown, and a few
months previously I had acted as best man at his wedding.



CHAPTER VII.

THE ORIGIN OF THE CARBINEERS.

Pietersburg is an important town 180 miles north of Pretoria and the
terminus of the railway. After the occupation of Pretoria in June, 1900,
the Boer Government was set up here, and it was not until May, 1901, that
the town was occupied and garrisoned by British troops.

A tragic incident, in which two Tasmanian officers were killed, is
related to have occurred on the day the troops entered Pietersburg. These
two officers were going out to a magazine on the outskirts of the town,
and were sniped at and shot dead by a Dutch schoolmaster who lay hidden
in the long grass. When the troops ran up to see what was the matter,
this gentleman jumped up, and, holding up his hands, shouted, "I
surrender! I surrender! I surrender!" The men walked up to him, and
without hesitation ran a bayonet through his body, and in the heat and
stress of the battlefield this action of the soldiers was applauded.

My duties as an officer of the Carbineers began on 13th July. There was
little to be done, and less to be learned, in the ordinary routine of
camp duty, which consisted principally of attending the stables to see
that the men fed and groomed their horses.

When I had been about a fortnight at Pietersburg Major Lenehan returned
from Pretoria; he had not succeeded in getting guns for his gun section,
and ordered me, much against my inclination, to take over the
quartermaster's duties from Lieutenant Mortimer. I held this position
about a week.

The Bushveldt Carbineers were raised in Capetown and Pretoria early in
1901 for special service in the Northern Transvaal. A Mr. Levy, a
storekeeper at Pienaar's River, who had made some money out of the
Pienaar's River garrison, offered to devote part of his savings towards
the formation of a mounted corps to operate in that district. He
contributed £500; Mr. M. Kelly, merchant, of Pietersburg, also gave £100;
Dr. Neel, of Matapan, Spelonken, £100; a few others also subscribed. It
was orginally proposed to raise 500 men, but not more than 350
constituted the full strength.

The camp and headquarters of the Carbineers formed part of the
Pietersburg garrison, which was made up of the 2nd Wiltshire Regiment,
2nd Gordon Highlanders, a section of the Royal Field Artillery, and a
detachment of the Royal Garrison Artillery, with a 5-in. gun, which was
known throughout the war as a "cow-gun," on account of it being drawn by
oxen. Colonel Hall, C.B., was garrison commandant. The other officers of
the corps stationed at Pietersburg while I was there were Major Lenehan,
Lieutenant and Adjutant Edwards, Lieutenant and Quartermaster Mortimer,
Lieutenant Baudinet, all Australians, and all late members of the first
Australian contingents. There were also Lieutenant Neel, an English
doctor, and Lieutenant Kelly, a Pietersburg merchant.

A detachment of the Carbineers was at Strydspoort, a post about 35 miles
south-east of Pietersburg, and was under the command of Lieutenant H. H.
Morant. Another detachment was at Fort Edward, Spelonken, 90 miles north
from Pietersburg. This detachment was sent there to assist Captain Alfred
Taylor, a special service officer, and was under the command of a captain
of the Carbineers; with him went Lieutenant Handcock, a veterinary
officer.

Major Lenehan was officer commanding the Carbineers, but in reality this
was in rank and name only. The major rarely visited the outposts, which
were practically under the direct control of the officers in charge; he
was a good-natured man, and much attached to his officers.

There has been argument regarding the nationality of Lieutenant Morant,
and the ignominy of his fate has in prejudiced quarters been attached to
Australia. He was, however, born in England and reared as an English
gentleman, coming to Australia in manhood. There he was engaged in
various bush avocations, especially in droving and breaking horses; hence
the pen-name of "The Breaker," by which he became known as a popular
writer of verses. He went to the war with an Australian contingent; a
good fellow, one could not help liking him, yet he was very hot-headed,
and usually did things on the impulse of the moment. He exacted strict
obedience, and obtained it, where others holding a much higher rank might
have failed.

Captain Taylor was a special officer of the Intelligence Department, and
worked the wild and isolated part of the Transvaal around Spelonken. He
was an Irishman by birth, but had lived a number of years in Africa among
the natives; he had been a lieutenant in Plumer's Scouts in the Matabele
War, and had command of a corps of Cape boys. He had been selected and
sent to the Spelonken by Lord Kitchener, on account of his knowledge of
the natives. As far as the natives were concerned, he had a free hand and
the power of life and death; he was known and feared by them from the
Zambesi to the Spelonken, and was called by them "Bulala," which means to
kill, to slay. He had the power to order out a patrol when he required
it, and it was generally understood that he was the officer commanding at
Spelonken. At the trials of the officers later on he admitted in evidence
that he had held this position.



CHAPTER VIII.

WHAT LED TO THE TROUBLE.

The officer who had command of the detachment of Carbineers assisting
Captain Taylor was, as it appeared, altogether unfit to command such a
body of men, and allowed his detachment to drift into a state of
insubordination verging on mutiny. The men did almost as they liked, and
horses and other captured stock were being divided amongst themselves,
while stills on neighbouring farms were freely made use of. According to
the evidence taken at the court martial (which is extracted from a
summary that appeared in the "Times," 18th April, 1902), Captain Taylor
on 2nd July, 1901, received intelligence that a party of six armed Boers
were going into the camp to surrender. The officers in charge decided to
intercept these men, and not allow them to come in; they would send out a
patrol and have them ambushed and shot. After a good deal of argument, a
sergeant-major paraded a patrol, headed by a sergeant. The men were told
to go out and meet the waggon in which were the six Boers; they were to
make the Boers fight, and on no account were these to be brought in
alive; if the white flag was put up the men were to take no notice of it,
just fire away until all the Boers were shot. This, I afterwards learned,
was the correct interpretation of the orders not to take prisoners.

The patrol went out, met the six Boers, and opened fire on them. The
Boers at once put up the white flag and made a great noise; so, thinking
there might be women and children in the waggon, the patrol ceased firing
and went to look, but as there were only six men, they were taken out and
shot. It has been stated that these men had a large sum of money in their
possession, but the money was all a myth. I never heard of any money
being taken from them. The Boers invariably buried their money for
safety, and I have no doubt large sums of money still remain buried in
different parts of the Transvaal.

The next incident of note which occurred was the shooting of a trooper of
the Fort Edward detachment, and it is here that Lieutenant Handcock first
appears in connection with the troubles of the Carbineers. Handcock was
an Australian, and was never the bloodthirsty desperado that (after he
had been shot) he was made out to be; he was simply the chosen tool of
unprincipled men, who held the power to command. He was born and reared
to bush pursuits, and was a hard worker; if he was not doctoring the back
of a worn-out horse, he was at the forge shoeing. He never initiated any
outrage, but he had a keen sense of duty, and could be absolutely relied
upon to fulfil it. He had been seen under fire many times, and there
never was a braver man. The trooper who had been shot was a Boer, and he
had been allowed to become a member of the Carbineers, but there were
strong suspicions that he was acting the traitor. There were a number of
prisoners in the camp, and this trooper frequently absented himself,
while on one occasion he was seen and heard pointing out among his
comrades the men who had despatched his six unfortunate countrymen.

No officer was ever brought to trial for having this man shot, but Major
Lenehan was charged with having failed to report his death, and for this
he was reprimanded. A report had been sent in, which had been "edited" by
the three officers immediately concerned, and it was made to appear that
this trooper had been shot in a brush with the Boers. This was stated at
the court-martial to have been done in the interest of the corps. About
this time the officer in charge of the detachment requested to be
recommended for the Distinguished Service Order in recognition of his
services.

Later on an allegation was made by a lady against an officer in the
Spelonken district, and, upon inquiries being made by the authorities at
Pietersburg, he was recalled, and was given the option of standing his
trial at a court-martial or resigning his commission. He sent in his
resignation, and left the corps.

Captain Taylor was afterwards tried by court-martial for having ordered
the shooting of the six Boers. Captain Robertson elected to turn King's
evidence. Taylor was promptly acquitted, as he was also on the charge of
shooting a native. A late brother officer informed me that after Morant
and Handcock had been shot, and I had become "the guest of the nation"
for an indefinite period, Captain Taylor was promoted to another
important position in the Transvaal.



CHAPTER IX.

DEATH OF CAPTAIN HUNT.--MORANT'S REPRISALS.

When Captain Robertson was recalled from Fort Edward, Captain Hunt, who
was on special duty in Pretoria, and had formerly held a commission in
the 10th Hussars, was sent to supersede him. Captain Hunt was accompanied
by Lieutenants Morant and Hannam, an Australian; Lieutenant Picton, an
Englishman, afterwards joined them. I was not personally acquainted with
Captain Hunt, but evidently he had been held in high esteem by officers
and men alike, and he was always referred to by them as a fine fellow and
a thorough "white man."

Lieutenant Picton took with him a convoy, with regimental stores, among
which was a quantity of rum for the use of the troops; on the way out
some of the men looted this, and what they did not drink they hid away.
After their arrival at Fort Edward they would periodically leave, and
return to the fort in a state of intoxication. This led to Captain Hunt
placing several of them under arrest for insubordination, and also for
threatening to shoot Lieutenant Picton. At night these men broke their
arrest and rode into Pietersburg. Captain Hunt sent in a report, and made
charges of a serious nature against them to Major Lenehan, who caused
them to be again placed under arrest, pending court-martial proceedings.
Upon a preliminary inquiry being made as to their conduct, they made
disclosures regarding what was going on at Spelonken. When the matter was
brought before Colonel Hall, C.B., garrison commandant, it was decided in
the interests of all concerned to discharge them from the regiment and
let them go. To these men may be credited the monstrous and extravagant
statements and lying reports about the Carbineers which appeared later in
the English and colonial press.

After the preliminary courts of inquiry held some time after this into
the charges against officers of the Carbineers, and before the
courts-martial were held, Colonel Hall was suddenly recalled by the War
Office, relieved of his command, and sent out of the country to India.

Captain Hunt found affairs in a very disorganised state at Fort Edward,
and immediately set about to rectify them. He had the stock collected and
handed over to the proper authorities, and the stills broken up. These
reforms were carried out by Lieutenants Morant and Handcock, and this was
one of the reasons why these two officers were disliked (or "detested,"
as a returned Carbineer put it) by certain members of the detachment.

It was decided at this time to send twenty additional men out to Captain
Hunt, with Lieutenant Baudinet in command, but owing to an accident which
that officer had met with while playing polo, he was unable to go, and I
was selected in his place.

I left Pietersburg on 3rd August with Sergeant-Major Hammett and twenty
men, and arrived at Fort Edward the following evening. Lieutenant Hannam
met me some distance out from the fort, and accompanied me in. He
introduced me to Lieutenants Morant and Handcock. This was the first time
I had met these officers.

Lieutenant Picton was away at Chinde with a patrol, and Captain Hunt was
away with another party in the Majajes district. He was killed on the
night of 5th August, 1901, when making an attack upon Commandant
Viljoen's farmhouse at Duival's Kloof, a spot about 80 miles east of Fort
Edward. Captain Hunt had with him only a small party of his own men,
seventeen in number, as he had been informed by natives that there were
only twenty Boers in occupation of the farmhouse; he had with him also a
number of armed natives.

It was stated at times during the war by those in authority that the
natives were not permitted to take any part in the fighting, but such was
not the case. During the time I was in the Spelonken district with the
Carbineers the natives were twice raised, and it has been openly stated
that, with the connivance of others, when Colonel Grenfell went through
the district, he had thousands of these savages, who were fed and paid,
attached to his column, and they committed the most hideous atrocities,
which no one has yet been made to account for.

The natives would follow a patrol like a flock of vultures, armed with
all kinds of weapons, from a cowhide shield and bundle of assegais to the
latest pattern of rifle. They were worse than useless in action. They
might fire one shot, but would then clear out and hide in the long grass
until the fighting was over, appearing again on the scene to loot and
plunder everything they could lay their hands on.

It was the intention of Captain Hunt to rush the farmhouse at night, and
surprise the Boers, but the Boers surprised the patrol, and instead of
only twenty, there were fully eighty in possession. On making the attack,
they were met by a withering fire. At the first volley the natives turned
and fled, and I was told by an eye witness that some of the uniforms of
Hunt's attacking party could be seen beating a hasty retreat with them.

Captain Hunt and two sergeants reached the house, and commenced firing
through the windows. They shot down several of the Boers, Commandant
Viljoen being amongst them. Captain Hunt was himself then shot in the
breast, and fell off the verandah to the ground, where he lay moaning. He
was seen by one of his sergeants, who could not render him any assistance
on account of the continuous firing from the house and from their own men
behind. Sergeant Eland was also shot dead; he was the son of a local
settler, whose farm adjoined Reuter's Mission Station. He had formerly
been a member of the Natal Carbineers, and had seen much service on the
Natal side at the outbreak of the war. He subsequently joined the
Bushveldt Carbineers, and was killed within a few miles of his own home,
where he was taken and buried.

Towards morning the Carbineers withdrew to Reuter's Mission Station,
about five miles away, and from there despatched a message to Fort
Edward, reporting the loss of Captain Hunt and Sergeant Eland, and asking
to be reinforced without delay.

Early on Wednesday morning the news reached Fort Edward, and its effect
upon Morant was terrible; instead of being the usual gay, light-hearted
comrade whom I had known for three days, he became like a man demented.
He ordered out every available man to patrol before Captain Taylor at his
office at Sweetwaters Farm, about one mile from the fort.

Morant tried to address the troops, but broke down, and Captain Taylor
then spoke a few words to them, urging them to avenge the death of their
captain, and "give no quarter." Guides and intelligence agents were
furnished by Taylor, and the patrol started off with Morant in command.
We travelled across country, and took the most direct route to Reuter's
Station. When we were about twenty miles out, we met Lieutenant Picton
returning, with a number of prisoners, who were, by the order of
Lieutenant Morant, handed over to a small escort, and sent on to Fort
Edward. Picton and the remainder of his men were attached to the patrol.
This was my first meeting with Lieutenant Picton.

We hurried on, and made a forced march, off-saddling every four hours or
so to give the horses a rest, and then on again. At times the guide, who
was a German, would lose his way, and a halt would be called. Morant, who
was in no mood to be trifled with, and thought he was doing it on
purpose, would rage and curse and upbraid and threaten him, until he
became afraid of his life.

By nightfall we had covered more than 40 miles, and then put up at a
native kraal to give the horses a feed and wait until the moon rose. Here
one of the intelligence agents left us to gather up an army of natives.
By the faint light of a new moon, we started at one o'clock in the
morning, and had much difficulty in finding our way, our guide
continually misleading us. Once, in crossing a swampy stream, he missed
the ford, and horses and men were floundering about in a deep muddy bog,
several of the latter getting a dirty morning dip.

By midday we reached the Letaba Valley, in the Majajes Mountains,
inhabited by a powerful tribe of natives once ruled by a princess said to
be the prototype of Rider Haggard's "She." One huge, brawny native
recalled to me Allan Quartermain's doughty old warrior Umslopogaas.

Passing along the valley, through some of the most rugged landscape
secnery in South Africa, we reached Reuter's Mission Station about four
in the afternoon. Here we met the men of Captain Hunt's patrol; they had
just one hour before buried their captain. After visiting his grave, we
returned to Mr. Reuter's house, where Lieutenant Morant interrogated
several men regarding Captain Hunt's death. They were all positive that
he had met with foul play; they were sure his neck had been broken, as
his head was rolling limply about in the cart when he was being brought
in. His face had been stamped upon with hob-nailed boots, and his legs
had been slashed with a knife; the body was stripped completely of
clothes and lying in a gutter when found. Mr. Reuter and Captain Hunt's
native servant, Aaron, who had washed and laid out his body for burial,
corroborated these statements.

This convinced Morant that his brother officer and best friend had been
brutally murdered; he vowed there and then that he would give no quarter
and take no prisoners. He had ignored his orders to this effect in the
past, but he would carry them out in the future. I was informed that
Captain Hunt had paraded his officers and sergeants, and told them that
he had direct orders from headquarters at Pretoria not to take prisoners.
Morant repeated these orders to me as they were given to him by Captain
Hunt.

We remained at the Mission Station waiting for runners to come in from
the intelligence agents, who had been watching the movements of the
Boers. At daybreak in the morning, news came that they had vacated the
farmhouse at Duival's Kloof, and were trekking away towards the
Waterberg. They had a clear day's start of us, but we went off with about
forty-five men, leaving a few behind to guard the Mission Station, which
the Boers had threatened to bum down over Mr. Reuter's head because our
troops had been harboured there.

Morant rode at the head, gloomy and sullen, and eager to overtake the
retreating enemy. I was in command of the rearguard. We rode hard all
day, only resting once to give the horses a handful of mealies we had
brought with us. Just at sunset the advance guard sighted the Boers, who
had laagered for the night in a hollow at the foot of a chain of kopjes.
Morant was excited and eager to make an attack. He sent Lieutenant Picton
with a party of men on the right flank, but to Morant, in his excitement,
the moments seemed hours. Before Picton could get his men into position,
and just as I arrived at the foot of the kopje with the rearguard, Morant
opened fire on the laager. I dismounted my men and hastened to the top.
Looking down, I could see the camp fires and hear the Boers crying out,
"Allamachta! Allamachta" ("God Almighty!"), and shouting to each other in
great consternation. Ceasing fire, we moved on rapidly, and rushed the
laager, only to find that the Boers had jumped on their horses and ridden
away, leaving behind their waggons, blankets, and everything they
possessed. Several dead and wounded horses were lying about, and
underneath a waggon we found a Boer wounded in the heel. Lieutenant
Morant insisted that he should be shot on the spot, but he was prevailed
upon not to do this, as the firing might attract the Boers, who nearly
doubled us in number, and it was necessary to withdraw to a safe position
for the night. A Cape cart with mules inspanned was found in the laager;
the prisoner, Visser by name, was put in it, and all drew back to a
neighbouring kopje, where we bivouacked.

Although tired out, there was no possibility of any sleep, as it was
necessary to keep on the qui-vive in case the Beers should pay us a
surprise visit. Outposts had to be visited to see that the men were on
the alert. The night was intensely, cold, and we had had nothing to eat
since leaving the mission station. We had travelled with stripped saddles
to make it as light as possible for the horses. On this march I found
strong coffee very sustaining, and I have often travelled all day on an
occasional cup of this beverage.

Early the following morning a native runner brought a message to Morant
from Fort Edward requesting him to return with all speed. The fort, with
only a few men in charge, was in danger of being attacked by a party of
Boers who were in the neighbourhood. Our horses were about knocked up, so
Morant decided to give up the pursuit of the Boers and return to the
fort. Before setting out, he examined and questioned Visser, and found in
his possession articles of clothing, a tunic called a "British Warm," and
a pair of trousers which he identified as the property of the late
Captain Hunt. He informed me and others that the first time we outspanned
he would have Visser shot.

After burning the waggons and collecting the oxen, we started on our
homeward journey, I, as before, following with the rearguard.

About 11 o'clock the patrol halted near Mameheila, on the Koodoo River. A
beast was slaughtered here, and I broke my fast on a very tough piece of
trek-ox steak. During the morning Lieutenants Morant and Handcock had
discussed Visser's position, and had decided to shoot him as soon as we
halted. Upon my arrival with the rearguard, Morant came to me and again
informed me that it was his intention to have Visser shot. "This man," he
said, "has been concerned in the murder of Captain Hunt; he has been
captured wearing British uniform, and I have got orders direct from
headquarters not to take prisoners, while only the other day Lord
Kitchener sent out a proclamation to the effect that all Beers captured
wearing khaki were to be summarily shot." I asked him to leave me out of
it altogether, as I did not know anything about the orders, I had been
such a short time there. Morant then walked away, and ordered
Sergeant-Major Clarke to fall-in ten men for a firing party. Some of the
men objected, and the sergeant-major came and asked me if I would speak
to Morant on behalf of those men.

I went to Morant as requested, but found him obdurate. "You didn't know
Captain Hunt," he said, "and he was my best friend; if the men make any
fuss, I will shoot the prisoner myself." After a little delay, men
volunteered--"to get a bit of our own back," one remarked. Lieutenant
Picton was placed in command of the firing party, and Visser was shot.

I did not witness the execution or take any part whatever in it. To the
best of my knowledge this was the first prisoner shot by the order of
Lieutenant Morant, and the motive for the execution was purely that of
retaliation for an outrage committed upon a British officer.

War is calculated to make men's natures both callous and vengeful, and
when civilised rules and customs are departed from on one side, reprisals
are sure to follow on the other, and the shocking side of warfare in the
shape of guerilla tactics is then seen. At such a time it is not fair to
judge the participants by the hard and fast rules of citizen life or the
strict moral codes of peace. It is necessary to imagine one's self amidst
the same surroundings--in an isolated place, with the passions of war
aroused, men half-starved, dangers constantly threatening from all
quarters, and responsibilities crowding one upon another--to enable a
fair decision to be reached.

The intelligence agent, who had left us to raise the natives, now
returned with several hundred savages, but as their services were not now
required, they were fed, and, when they had held a war dance, were
dispersed. Continuing our homeward journey, we arrived at Hay's store, 18
miles from Fort Edward, about midnight, and rested there until daylight.

Mr. Hays was a British trader, and with his wife and family kept a store
in a wild part of the Spelonken. He was well-known for his hospitality to
our troops. After our departure a party of marauding Boers, who knew of
this, swooped down upon him, and looted him of everything he possessed,
even dragging the wedding ring from his wife's finger.

There were numerous bands of these marauders in the district roving
about, commandeering all they could lay their hands upon, wrecking
trains, or doing any bushranging job that presented itself to them. When
they were nearly starved, or sick, they would come in and surrender, and
get fed up and looked after until well again, when they would take the
first opportunity of breaking away and making a fresh start.



CHAPTER X.

BY ORDER--"NO QUARTER!"

Upon arrival at Fort Edward on Sunday morning, we learned that a convoy
had arrived the previous day from Pietersburg, in charge of Lieutenant
Neel--just in time to assist Captain Taylor and the few men who had been
left in driving back a strong force of Boers who had come up close to the
fort. There had been some sharp fighting, one Carbineer had been wounded,
and several horses shot. It was here that Captain Taylor shot a Kaffir
for refusing to give him information regarding the movements of the
Boers, for which act later on he was tried and acquitted.

Lieutenant Neel remained at the fort for some days, and upon his return
to Pietersburg was accompanied by Lieutenant Picton, who reported to the
commanding officer and also to the commandant the whole of the facts
regarding the shooting of Visser. No action was taken, not even a notice
or message was sent intimating that such practices were to be
discontinued. This tended to convince me that the orders and the
interpretation of the orders regarding prisoners as transmitted to me by
Lieutenant Morant were authentic, and that such proceedings were not only
permitted, but were approved of by the headquarters authorities.

After our return to the fort, it was decided to send a small detachment
of the Carbineers to occupy and work round Reuter's Mission Station. I
asked Lieutenant Morant to send me in charge, but he ultimately sent
Lieutenant Hannam, as he said I was not sufficiently acquainted with the
district. He added that in a month he would recall Hannam and send me in
his place.

Lieutenant Hannam captured a large number of prisoners and sent them in
to Fort Edward. I can explain here how those infamous rumours gained
currency as to the shooting of children by the Carbineers. A patrol of
Lieutenant Hannam's men were out making a reconnaissance, when they
suddenly came upon a Boer laager and opened fire. They heard women and
children screathing, and ceased firing. Upon taking the laager they found
that a child had been shot and two little girls slightly wounded.

I afterwards escorted these prisoners to Pietersburg, and in conversation
with the parents of the children they told me that they in no way
reproached Lieutenant Hannam or his men for what had happened; they were
themselves to blame for running away from their waggons when called upon
to surrender. This is the only foundation for the wicked reports as to
the wholesale shooting of women and children by the Carbineers.

The day following Lieutenant Hannam's departure to the Mission Station,
which was the 22nd August, a report reached Fort Edward that eight
prisoners were being brought in. On the following morning Lieutenant
Morant came to me and requested me to accompany him on patrol.

A patrol subsequently set out, consisting of Lieutenants Morant,
Handcock, and myself, Sergeant-Major Hammett (who had gone out with me to
the Spelonken), and two troopers. We first called at the office of
Captain Taylor. Morant dismounted and had a private interview with that
officer; I was not informed as to the nature of it. I was not then on
intimate terms with Lieutenant Morant; I had only met him for the first
time a fortnight previously as my superior officer, and had recognised
him as such, and during that fortnight I had been frequently away from
the fort.

We went on, and Morant said that it was his intention to have the
prisoners shot. Both myself and Sergeant-Major Hammett asked Morant if he
was sure he was doing right. He replied that he was quite justified in
shooting the Boers; he had his orders, and he would rely upon us to obey
him. I also afterwards remonstrated with him for having the prisoners
brought in and shot so close to the fort, but he said it was a matter of
indifference where they were shot.

We met the patrol with the prisoners about six miles out. Morant at once
took charge, and instructed the escort to go on ahead as advance guard.
The prisoners were ordered to inspan and trek on to the fort. I rode on
in front of the waggon, and I did not see any civilian speak to the
prisoners as we were passing the mission hospital. When we had trekked on
about three miles Morant stopped the waggon, called the men off the road,
and questioned them. Upon his asking, "Have you any more information to
give?" they were shot. One of them, a big, powerful Dutchman, made a rush
at me and seized the end of my rifle, with the intention of taking it and
shooting me, but I simplified matters by pulling the trigger and shooting
him. I never had any qualms of conscience for having done so, as he was
recognised by Ledeboer, the intelligence agent, as a most notorious
scoundrel who had previously threatened to shoot him, and was the head of
a band of marauders. By just escaping death in this tragedy I was
afterwards sentenced to suffer death.

I went on with the men, and we took with us the waggon and belongings,
which we handed over to Captain Taylor. I then went on to the fort.
Morant and Handcock remained behind to make arrangements for the burial
of the bodies. About an hour afterwards Morant came in; a few minutes
later he noticed a hooded buggy drawn by a pair of mules coming along the
road at the foot of the fort, and going in the direction of Pietersburg.
He immediately jumped on a horse, and rode down to see who it was, as no
one was allowed to travel about the country without first getting
permission to do so. When he returned he informed me that it was a
missionary from Potgeiter's Rust returning home, and that he held a pass
signed by Captain Taylor. Morant said that he had advised the missionary
to wait until a convoy returned to Pietersburg, but he decided that he
would go on alone. Morant then went away to see Captain Taylor. In the
meantime Lieutenant Handcock returned, had his breakfast, and also went
away again.

I have no idea of their subsequent movements, for being tired out I went
to my bungalow, and slept until lunch time. I lunched alone, which was
not unusual, but Morant and Handcock returned in the evening for dinner.
During this repast the guard reported that rockets were being sent up in
the direction of Bristow's farm, about one mile away. Morant took them
for distress signals, and ordered the troops to stand to arms. Within
twenty minutes a patrol of forty mounted men had the farm-house
surrounded, but, much to the chagrin of Morant, it was found that the
"signals" were a few rockets that had been thoughtlessly let off to amuse
the children at the farm.

Nearly a week later, I, with Lieutenant Morant, was at Captain Taylor's
office, when a neighbour came in and said there was a rumour abroad that
a missionary had been killed on the road at Bandolier Kopjes, about 15
miles from Fort Edward, the most dangerous spot on the road to
Pietersburg. I at once volunteered to take out a patrol and investigate.
I was not permitted to go as far as Bandolier Kopjes, but was sent with
half a dozen men to a farm-house five miles out to get what information I
could, and was given orders by Lieutenant Morant not to go any further.
Upon arrival at the farm I could glean nothing. I had all the natives
brought up and questioned, but they did not know anything. I then went
along the road to several kraals, but could get no news; I met a native
post-boy with the mails from Pietersburg, and questioned him, but he knew
nothing and had seen nothing along the road.

I then returned to the Fort, and on the way back met Taylor and Morant. I
informed them of my inability to get any further information, and
expressed to them my opinion that it was only a Kaffir yarn.

Two days later, however, Lieutenant Handcock was sent out to Bandolier
Kopjes with a strong patrol to make a further search, and discovered the
body of the missionary, his buggy, and his mules, some distance off the
road. There was every indication that he had met his death by foul play.
He had been shot in the breast, probably whilst sitting in his buggy; the
mules, taking fright, had galloped off the road, throwing the missionary
out as they travelled along. The buggy was found jammed between some
trees and a telegraph post, with the pole broken. The mules had freed
themselves, and were feeding about harnessed together. Lieutenant
Handcock made arrangements for the burial of the missionary, and returned
to the Fort, taking the mules with him.

Much of my work while at Fort Edward consisted of escorting convoys with
prisoners and refugees, who were being sent into the concentration camps
at Pietersburg. I took them half way, and then handed them over to a
patrol sent out from Pietersburg. During these trips I came in contact
with many of the "Boers of the Veldt," or the Dopper class. I would often
take a cup of coffee with them, and as many of them could speak a little
English, they would pour out all their troubles to me. The women folk
were eager to learn all about the refugee camp, asking would they be
provided with food and clothing, and would the "Englisher" "give them
schoens for the kinder?" This is the class of people that predominates in
South Africa, and in my opinion there must be generations of purging,
educating, and civilising before they will be capable of taking part in
national life. They appear habitually to shun water, and never undress;
as they go to bed, so they get up again--dirty, untidy, and unwashed.

On one of these trips I became acquainted with a Dutchman who was
employed by us as a transport rider. He had been fighting for his country
at the outbreak of the war, but, tiring of it, had surrendered, and was
afterwards employed by the Army Service Corps. In recounting his
experience, he said that when he was first called out on commando he
thought the war would only last a couple of months, as they would soon
drive every Englishman out of the country. When leaving home he had
promised his children that when he returned he would take them back a
"little Englisher," which they could keep in a box, and feed on mealies
and oats.

After the first great reverses, this man and many more would have
surrendered but for the lying statements made to them by their predikants
and commandants, who would harangue them from a trek waggon with
statements that thousands of English had been repulsed and driven into
the sea; that foreign powers had sent assistance and had already landed;
that the Boers' homes had been desolated, and that their wives and
daughters in the refugee camps were being outraged, and distributed
amongst the soldiers with their daily issue of rations. The effect of
these speeches was to make the men fight on more doggedly and bitterly
than ever, and it is not wonderful that the rules and customs of
civilised war were sometimes departed from.

The same man also told me that Kruger owed him £500 for the time he had
been fighting with the Boers, and for the use of his waggon and oxen, and
he asked me if I thought the English Government would pay him this
amount.

Much has been said and written regarding the concentration camps and
their management. I was in personal contact with some of the people who
went into them, and I am certain that these, at least, were never as well
off before as when there. It was stated that unsanitary conditions
existed, and I can sympathise with the people who tried to make those
conditions better. The task would be, I think, an impossible one, as most
of the camp inmates had lived all their lives without even knowing what
sanitation or cleanliness meant. Perhaps the mortality amongst children
was greater in the camps than on the farms, especially if an epidemic of
measles or diphtheria occurred, as the children mixed more with each
other, and it would be difficult to isolate all cases; or perhaps there
were more opportunities for a death to excite attention than there would
be on a farm far out on the veldt. The majority of the inmates looked
upon camp-life as a picnic. A few who had lived a sort of gipsy life
previously were discontented, and anxious to start roving again;
otherwise there was no cause for complaint.



CHAPTER XI.

MORANT'S CREDITABLE EXPLOIT.

About a fortnight after the finding of the body of the missionary, and
while I was away from Fort Edward on convoy escort, three armed Boers
were reported coming in. Upon Lieutenant Morant being informed, he went
out, taking with him Lieutenant Handcock and two men. These Boers were
met and shot.

The same day Major Lenehan arrived at Fort Edward from Pietersburg; he
found the merry-hearted Morant, whom he had known for a number of years,
a changed man. He was now gloomy and morose, and was still brooding over
the manner of the death of Captain Hunt. Morant fancied that if he had
been out with Hunt it would not have happened. The major thought, as did
others, that Morant's mind had become unhinged with grief.

When I returned from Pietersburg, about two days later, I learned that
two strong forces of Boers were reported in the district, and the outlook
at Fort Edward was not a bright one.

Field-Cornet Torn Kelly, a notorious Boer Irregular leader, and a great
fighter, was moving in from the Portuguese territory, and it was reported
that he had several guns with him. Commandant Beyers, with a strong
force, was threatening on another side. Morant had been wishing for
months for a chance to capture Tom Kelly, and he now entreated Major
Lenehan to allow him to go in pursuit. The major hesitated for some time,
but finally gave permission to go. This brightened Morant up
considerably.

On Monday, 16th September, Morant and myself left the Fort with thirty
men in search of Kelly, proceeding in the direction of the Birthday Mine.
We arrived there three days later, and waited for the scouts to come in
and report the locality of Kelly's laager. Early on Saturday morning we
started off again. Owing to the rough nature of the country we would have
to travel over, we decided to leave behind all stores, taking with us
only two days' rations, intending to live after that on any game we could
shoot. Pushing on, we reached Banniella's (Kaffir) Kraal, within two
miles of Kelly's laager, and about 150 miles from Fort Edward, late on
Sunday evening. We dismounted, and left our horses here. The natives in
formed us that Kelly had been there that day drinking palm wine with
them, and had only left a couple of hours before; he had told them that
if a thousand Englishmen came to his laager he would wipe them all out.

After warning the natives under penalty of death not to move away from
the kraal, we proceeded on foot to the laager, which we reached at
midnight. The camp was situated in a small clearing, among dense scrub,
on the bank of the Thsombo River, and close to the Portuguese border.
Halting within 300 yards of it, Morant and an intelligence agent named
Constanteon made a careful reconnaisance, leaving me in charge of the
men, some of whom were so fatigued that they almost immediately fell
asleep.

One man, hearing a noise in the bush and leaves rustling, reported to me
that he had seen a lion, and asked if he could shoot it. I knew that if
we were successful in securing the lion we would lose Kelly, so I
peremptorily ordered him to preserve strict silence until the laager was
taken.

Morant returned shortly after, having found out the exact situation of
the waggons and surroundings. He divided the patrol into three parties,
and posted one on the right flank with Serjeant-Major Hammett, about 150
yards off; he and I took the others into the river bed, which ran under a
steep bank around the waggons. The night was intensely cold, but we lay
there within 50 yards of them until the first streak of dawn. During the
night a dog scented us and started to bark; a Boer got up and gave it a
kick to quieten it, at which Morant remarked, "A man never knows his luck
in South Africa."

About four o'clock a Kaffir got up and lit a fire to make early morning
coffee. We then charged the camp, shouting "Hands up" in the nearest
approach to Dutch at our command. The Boers were taken completely by
surprise. As there were women there we refrained from shooting. Morant
rushed to Kelly's tent, and called upon him to surrender, and when he
showed his head through the doorway he was looking straight down the
barrel of Morant's rifle. The others, as they rolled from under the
waggons, put up their hands very sulkily, while we collected the rifles.

Kelly was a fine type of a man, over six feet in height, and about 55
years of age; his father was an Irishman and his mother a Dutch woman.
When I saw him again he was sitting in a Boer chair beside the fire; it
had completely staggered him to realise that he was a prisoner, he who
had boasted so often that he would give every Englishman a warm reception
who came after him, and he had been taken without an opportunity of
making the slightest resistance. The talk about the guns was all bluff.
One of our troopers went up and asked him, "Where are the big guns?" He
replied, snappishly, "Don't talk to me, young man, I'm a prisoner."

After collecting all the prisoners, we got together all the arms and
ammunition, which were nearly all British, and sent a party back to the
kraal for the horses. We then spanned in the oxen, and started on our
return journey to Fort Edward. As the country was very rough, and there
were no roads, it took us four days to get back to the Birthday Mine.
When we outspanned on the third night the horse-guard reported several
horses missing. My own spare horse being amongst them, on the following
morning I left the convoy and returned with three men to the site of the
previous outspan, and after scouring the country all day found the
missing horses. We got back late the same night to the place we had
started from in the morning; we had used up all our rations, and had been
living for the last four days on what we could shoot in the way of game.
Leaving before daylight, we reached the Birthday Mine about 10 a.m.;
finding the caretaker at home, four hungry men made great havoc upon his
stock of provisions, besides commandeering his mealies for our horses.
After a short rest we hurried on to overtake the convoy, which we came up
with late in the evening, having travelled 60 miles since morning; the
last 70 miles was covered in two days, as we feared that Commandant
Beyers, who was in the district, would try to intercept us.

Our rate of travelling with ox teams surprised the Dutchmen. Ten miles a
day is their average trek, so that 35 and 40 miles a day was naturally
regarded by them as a "bi goed trek" (very great trek).

When we arrived at Fort Edward two of Kelly's daughters left the waggon.
I asked them where they were going. They replied, "Home to get the house
ready"--not knowing that their home was now a heap of ruins. I could not
tell them, as I knew the effect it would have on them.

After fighting in the earlier stages of the war, Commandant Kelly had
returned to his farm, which was situated about half a mile from Fort
Edward. As soon as the Carbineers went to the district, he went off again
on trek with his family rather than surrender. There were a number of
other farmers living quietly around there. They had been frequently
visited by Boer commandos, and all their horses and mealies or maize corn
that could be found had been commandeered.

From the time we left in search of Kelly to our return to Fort Edward was
exactly a fortnight; his pursuit and capture was the last official
military duty of Lieutenant Morant. He received the following message
from Colonel Hall:--"Very glad to hear of your success, and should like
to have an account of what must have been a good bit of work."

Morant's career in South Africa was adorned by not a few actions such as
this, but accounts of them were never published broadcast to his credit,
to balance the stories scattered to his detriment.

After handing over Kelly's commando intact to the Pietersburg
authorities, Morant was granted a fortnight's leave, and went to
Pretoria. Just about this time Captain Taylor was recalled. Three weeks
later Morant's detachment was relieved at Fort Edward, and returned to
Pietersburg. On 21st October Major Lenehan, myself, Lieutenant Handcock,
and all non-commissioned officers and men who had been on service in the
district left Spelonken, and arrived at Fort Klipdan, 15 miles out of
Pietersburg, on the evening of the 22nd.

The following morning we made an eventful entry into the garrison. I was
riding ahead with the advance guard, and when about three miles from the
town I was met by two mounted officers, who inquired if I was Lieutenant
Witton. Upon replying in the affirmative, they informed me that the
garrison commandant wished to see me. One of the officers accompanied me
into Pietersburg, and took me direct to the commandant's office, where I
met Major Neatson, staff officer to Colonel Hall, who merely asked me if
I was Lieutenant Witton. Upon replying again in the affirmative, he gave
the officer who accompanied me some instructions. Leaving the
commandant's office, I was requested to accompany him to the Garrison
Artillery Fort. The proceedings seemed rather strange to me, as I had not
the slightest conception of what was about to take place. On my arrival
at the fort I was left with Lieutenant Beattie, who could not or would
not enlighten me. A little later Major Neatson came to me and informed me
that I was under close arrest pending a court of inquiry.

The officer commanding the fort then informed me that I was a military
prisoner under his charge, and if I attempted to escape, or went outside
the wire entanglements, I would be shot; that I was not to communicate
with anyone outside, and all correspondence was to be sent through him.
At this time I had not the faintest notion of the charges against me, or
for what reason I was made a prisoner.

I learned afterwards that Major Lenehan, Captain Taylor, Lieutenants
Morant, Handcock, Picton, Hannam, and Sergeant-Major Hammett were in the
same predicament as myself, and were located in different parts of the
garrison. Major Lenehan was with the 2nd Wiltshire Regiment, Captain
Taylor and Lieutenant Handcock in blockhouses close to the Wiltshire
lines, Lieutenant Hannam and Sergeant-Major Hammett at the garrison
prison, Lieutenant Picton with the Royal Field Artillery, Lieutenant
Morant first with the Gordon Highlanders, and afterwards at the garrison
prison.

After being a fortnight in close confinement I was called upon to attend
a sitting of the court of inquiry, and for the first time I became aware
of the nature of the charges against me. A great deal of pride is evinced
in what is called British justice, but after that court of inquiry I
doubted if such a thing existed. This piece of history could well be
dated back to the days of the Star Chamber or the Spanish Inquisition.

The president of the court appeared to be Colonel Carter, whilst Captain
Evans acted as his secretary. Both belonged to the Wiltshire Regiment.
There was also another member, belonging to the same regiment. He was
constituted a sort of private detective to round up witnesses to give
evidence to meet necessary requirements; he employed as an understrapper
a corporal who had once been a South African Republic detective, and was
afterwards a trooper in the Carbineers. He had been arrested several
times whilst with the corps, and on one occasion was reprimanded for
selling British uniform. He expected at the close of the case to be
rewarded with a farm. His hostility and bitterness can be imagined when
be openly boasted that he would be willing to walk barefooted from
Spelonken to Pietersburg, 90 miles, to be in a firing party to shoot
Morant and Handcock.

Upon my appearance at the court, which was held in a tent close to the
commandant's office, the president read out that I was charged with
complicity in the death of a prisoner of war named Visser, with
complicity in the death of eight others, names unknown, also with
complicity in the death of C. H. D. Hesse, a German missionary.

I was asked to make a statement regarding these charges. I said that any
part I had taken in the shooting of Boers was under the direct orders of
a superior officer; as to the death of the missionary, it was quite a
mystery to me, but I was confident that it could not be charged to the
Carbineers.

I was astounded to hear that his death was imputed to Lieutenant
Handcock, as I had been frequently in his company while at Spelonken, and
had not the slightest reason to connect him with it. I proved even to the
satisfaction of that court that I knew nothing of this case, and the
charge was immediately withdrawn.

I always understood that a man was innocent until he was proved to be
guilty; that position was here reversed, and we were adjudged guilty
until we proved we were innocent.



CHAPTER XII.

ORDERED FOR COURT-MARTIAL.

It appears that the ground for these remarkable proceedings was that a
report, which had originated through a Kaffir boy, had reached the German
authorities that a subject of theirs had been shot by British troops.
Redress was demanded, a penalty must be paid, and the result was the
arrest of the officers of the Carbineers as stated.

It has been said that the missionary was shot because he was going into
Pietersburg to inform the authorities there about the shooting of
prisoners, but there was no necessity to shoot him on that account, as
the authorities there were aware of the facts.

It was customary in outlying districts during the latter stages of the
war to shoot as many of the enemy as possible. Vaguely-worded orders were
issued that "All officers should strive to the utmost to bring the war to
a speedy termination;" "All officers must use discretion in dealing with
the white flag;" or, as one officer said, he was told to "clear the
district, and not to be too keen on filling burgher camps." These orders
were interpreted in only one way by the officers, and that was "No
quarter, no prisoners."

On the morning I attended a sitting of the court a German farmer from
near Duival's Kloof, who was alleged to have seen the body of Captain
Hunt, was being examined. "Did you notice any marks on his face?" he was
asked, "There was a graze over his eye, which might have been caused by
coming in contact with the branch of a tree at night time," was the
reply. "Did you notice any extravasation of blood about the neck?" I
could see the man did not know what was meant by extravasation of blood,
but he replied in the negative. "In your opinion, then, Captain Hunt's
body had not been maltreated ?" "Yes."

It is reasonable to conclude that this man, being a German, would be a
biassed witness, and, again, that he would not dare to give evidence
favourable to British troops, as his farm and possessions were at the
mercy of every Boer commando that came into the district. Notwithstanding
this, I shall prove later that this man's evidence--taken at this court,
and not at the court-martial--was accepted as correct, as against that
given by a clergyman and a British officer.

When the men of the Carbineers were being examined they were questioned
in a most high-handed manner, and in some cases questions and answers
would be taken down in writing without their knowledge; a day or so later
they would be sent for again, and a long statement read over to them,
which they were ordered to sign. Some of the statements were made by men
who knew nothing whatever personally, but had only heard the case was as
they represented; some even had merely heard that someone else had heard,
and so on. These men's statements were taken as evidence. Others who were
called, and said truly that they knew nothing, were treated as hostile,
and were bullied and badgered, and even threatened with arrest. One man
was actually sent to the garrison prison, and detained there until he was
removed to the hospital suffering from brain fever.

In addition to the men of our own regiment, evidence was taken from
Dutchmen, Germans, Africanders, and Kaffirs.

When Lieutenant Handcock was brought before the court he was staggered at
the charges laid against him; it seemed as if he were charged with the
murder of every Dutchman that had been shot in South Africa, as well as
that of a German missionary. He was so completely ignorant of military
law and court proceedings that he asked the president what would be the
best course for him to pursue; he was advised to make a clean breast of
everything, as the responsibility would rest solely on Lieutenant Morant.
He declined to make any statement whatsoever, and was sent again for a
considerable time into close confinement, even the military chaplain not
being allowed to see him.

Is it possible to conceive such an iniquity perpetrated in these days of
supposed civilisation?--a man charged with numerous murders shut up
alone, without a soul from whom he could seek advice; condemned before he
was tried. There could be only one ending; Handcock's mind gave way, and
when he was not responsible for his actions he was forced into making a
statement which incriminated himself and Lieutenant Morant.

This court of inquisition sat daily for nearly a month, and was supposed
to be held in camera, yet statements made during the day, with additions,
were freely discussed at garrison mess, and were the common talk of the
town during the evening.

Captain Taylor's charge-sheet was, I believe, a notable one, and almost
identical with that of Lieutenant Handcock--if not for the actual crimes,
for instigating them. The statements made by some of his men would, I am
sure, furnish interesting reading; the majority of the charges against
him were, however, withdrawn.

After twelve weeks' solitary confinement Handcock was allowed to make
arrangements for his defence. Upon being made aware of his position by
his friends, he refuted his previous statement, and said that he had only
made it to please Colonel Carter; it was too late then, however, as I was
informed on good authority that a copy of the evidence taken at the court
had been furnished to the German Government.

With me, who was also kept in solitary confinement, time just passed on;
I waited, wondering what the future would bring forth. I was in no way
worried, because I could not think that I was in any way culpable for
what had happened in the Spelonken district. Towards the end of December
I was again requested to attend a sitting of the court of inquiry; on
this occasion Lieutenants Morant, Handcock, and Picton were present.

Morant appeared gloomy and irritable. The past months of close
confinement had greatly impaired his health, physically and mentally, and
he looked upon current events from a very pessimistic standpoint;
Handcock was even more silent than usual, and looked much worried and
dejected.

We were informed by the president that we would be tried by court-martial
at an early date, and the statements of the witnesses for the prosecution
were read over to us. Morant listened in austere silence to the end,
then, springing to his feet, exclaimed, "Look here, Colonel, you have got
us all here now; take us out and crucify us at once, for as sure as God
made pippins, if you let one man off he'll yap."

The following afternoon I attended the court to hand in names of
witnesses I required for my defence. I requested to be allowed to
ascertain if Mr. Rail, of Capetown, would act as prisoner's friend or
counsel for me at the forthcoming trial. Captain Evans was there alone;
he was considered the best authority on military law in the garrison, and
no one could have a better grasp of the case than he, as he had attended
every sitting of the court as secretary. In conversation with him in
regard to obtaining counsel and witnesses, he informed me that he had
gone into my case thoroughly, and he considered that I had taken such a
subordinate part that it was not necessary for me to go to the trouble of
bringing counsel or witnesses from Capetown. "You have nothing to fear or
trouble about," he said, "you are bound to be exonerated." Confident of a
speedy and honourable acquittal, I made no further efforts for my
defence.

Shortly after the conclusion of the court of inquiry the Bushveldt
Carbineers Regiment was disbanded. Men who were required as witnesses for
the prosecution were given their discharges and as much as £1 per day
detention allowance to remain in Pietersburg. The remainder were
discharged and sent out of the district, as though purposely to obstruct
the course of justice, and when certain men, most important witnesses for
the defence, were asked for, the authorities at first refused to make any
inquiries as to their whereabouts, and stated that the expense of
securing their return would have to be borne by the defence. This was
acquiesced in, and later on the authorities declared that they were
unable to trace the men asked for. Yet at this very time a witness most
important to me was travelling by permission of the Pretoria authorities
on the Pietersburg line, and had just visited Nylstroom.

On the 15th January, just twelve weeks from the date of my arrest, I was
served with the charge-sheets.

Case one was that I did when on active service commit murder by inciting,
instigating, and commanding certain troopers to kill and murder one named
Visser. Case two was that when on active service I committed the offence
of murder by inciting, instigating, and commanding certain troopers to
kill and murder eight men, names unknown. I was warned to appear at a
general court-martial at 9 o'clock the following morning. I was then
granted the liberty, under proper escort, to visit or be visited by any
of the other prisoners.

I went straight to Lieutenant Morant, and asked him if he knew anything
about a court-martial, or had taken any steps towards a defence.
Producing my charge-sheets, I informed him that I was charged with nine
murders. "Only nine!" he ejaculated, "that is nothing; I am charged with
twelve, and an infanticide." The last three prisoners shot by him had
been entered in his charge-sheet as two men and a boy. The "boy" was
about 18 or 20, and had been right through the war and seen more active
service than many a veteran soldier, or than nine-tenths of the
Carbineers. This was the first time I had spoken to Lieutenant Morant
since my arrest.

I then learned that Major Thomas, a member of the New South Wales Mounted
Rifles, and an Australian solicitor, whom Major Lenehan had secured to
undertake his own defence, would act for us all. I was unable to
interview Major Thomas, who had arrived that morning, as he was all day
closeted with Major Lenehan. The following morning, about 8.30 o'clock,
he paid me a hurried visit, which lasted for a few minutes only. In this
time I briefly detailed to him the part I had been compelled to take,
which had resulted in the charges now preferred against me. I was then
escorted to the court-house in the town.

Court-martial held at Pietersburg, Transvaal, on the 16th day of January,
1902, by order of Lord Kitchener of Khartoum, commanding the forces of
South Africa. The court was constituted as follows:--The president was
Lieutenant-Colonel Denny, 2nd Northampton Regiment. The members were
Brevet-Major J. Little, same regiment; Brevet-Major Thomas and Major
Ousely, of the Royal Field Artillery; Captain Brown, of the 2nd Wiltshire
Regiment; Captain Marshall, 1st Gordon Highlanders; Captain Nicholson,
1st Cameron Highlanders. Waiting members: Captain Matcham, 2nd Wiltshire
Regiment; Captain Jobson, Royal Garrison Artillery. Major C. S. Copeland,
2nd Northampton Regiment, acted as Judge Advocate; Captain Bums-Begg as
Crown Prosecutor. Major Thomas, New South Wales Mounted Rifles, was
counsel for prisoners.

After the preliminary proceedings of the court and the swearing of the
members, an adjournment was made until the following morning to enable a
telegram to be sent to headquarters asking authority for Major Thomas to
undertake our defence.

The necessary authority being obtained, the court assembled the following
morning, and the first charge, that of murdering a prisoner named Visser,
was proceeded with. On the plea of "Not guilty," witnesses for the
prosecution were called. These described the fight at Duival's Kloof, and
how Captain Hunt was killed, and the state of his body when found, and
also gave particulars as to the capture of Visser, who was wearing
portion of Captain Hunt's clothing.

An intelligence agent named Ledeboer deposed that he informed Visser of
his position, and that he was condemned to be shot. Upon being
cross-examined, several of the witnesses stated that Captain Hunt had
previously given them orders not to take prisoners, and they had been
reprimanded for bringing them in.

For the defence, Lieutenant Morant stated that he had been under Captain
Hunt, clearing the northern district of Boers. It was regular guerilla
warfare; Captain Hunt acted on orders he got in Pretoria, which were in
effect to clear Spelonken and take no prisoners. Captain Hunt had told
him that Colonel Hamilton, military secretary, had given him the orders
at Lord Kitchener's private house where he had gone with a pair of polo
ponies, just prior to his departure for Spelonken. All the detachment
knew of the order given by Captain Hunt not to bring in prisoners. After
the death of Captain Hunt he took command and went out with
reinforcements, and when he learned the circumstances of his death, and
how he had been maltreated, he told the others that he had previously
disregarded the orders of Captain Hunt, but in future he would carry them
out, as he considered they were lawful. The orders had only been
transmitted verbally by Captain Hunt, and he had quoted the actions of
Kitchener's Horse and Strathcona's Horse as precedents; he never
questioned the validity of the orders, he was certain they were correct.
He had shot no prisoner before Visser, and the facts in Visser's case had
been reported to Captain Taylor, also to Major Lenehan and Colonel Hall.

"Was your court at the trial of Visser constituted like this?" asked the
President, "and did you observe paragraph ---- of ---- section of the
King's Regulations?" "Was it like this!" fiercely answered Morant. "No;
it was not quite so handsome. As to rules and sections, we had no Red
Book, and knew nothing about them. We were out fighting the Boers, not
sitting comfortably behind barb-wire entanglements; we got them and shot
them under Rule 303."

Morant made a plucky defence; he openly admitted the charges, and took
all responsibility upon himself, pleading custom of the war and orders
from headquarters. He did not express any regret, or have any fear as to
what his fate might be. Driven almost to desperation, and smarting under
the recent unjust acts of the court of inquiry, he, in his usual
hot-headed manner, made disclosures which he believed would in all
probability "stagger humanity." He vowed that he would have Lord
Kitchener put into the box and cross-examined as to the orders given to
officers, and his methods of conducting the war. The folly of all this
was apparent to everyone, as Lord Kitchener held Morant's life in his
hands; but Morant would not be restrained, and was prepared to suffer.

Lieutenant Picton was the next witness called for the defence. He had
served in the war for two years, and had gained a distinguished conduct
medal. He had commanded the firing party that had shot Visser, and had
carried out the execution in obedience to Morant's orders. He had
reported the matter to Major Lenehan and Colonel Hall. He also had
received orders from Captain Hunt not to take prisoners.

Lieutenant Handcock corroborated previous evidence as to the reasons for
executing Visser, and also as to the orders not to take prisoners. I also
supported the evidence as to the information received from the Rev. F. L.
Reuter about the maltreatment of Captain Hunt.

The Rev. F. L. Reuter, missionary, deposed that the bodies of Captain
Hunt and Sergeant Eland were brought to his place; that of the late
Captain Hunt was much mutilated. The neck appeared to have been broken,
and the face bore marks of boot-heels, and was much bruised; the body had
been stripped, and the legs gashed.

Dr. Johnson testified that he was of opinion from the evidence that the
injuries to Captain Hunt's body had been caused before death.

Captain Taylor stated that he had received messages from the Boers
through natives that if he fell into their hands he would be given four
days to die, which meant that they would torture him, because he was
known to them. The Boers in that part did not form part of a legal
commando, but were rather outlaws. Major Lenehan gave evidence that
Picton had reported the shooting of Visser to him, and he had reported it
to Colonel Hall.



CHAPTER XIII.

BEYERS--AND THE FLAG HE SLEPT ON.

When Morant's detachment was withdrawn from Spelonken, and the officers
arrested, the Boers returned to the district, full of renewed hope; they
were well acquainted with the fighting abilities of our successors. The
war had been going on for so long that even in those out-of-the-way
places, both sides were as well-known to each other as rivals for party
power would be in the snug quarters of Parliament House, or even as rival
factions in a little country township, where the causes for tumult are
numerous and varied.

In December Commandant Beyers, with a strong force, fairly beleagured
Fort Edward, billeting himself and his men at Sweetwater's Farm, about a
mile away, in the quarters recently vacated by Captain Taylor. Beyers had
occupied the same place about nine months before, but when the Carbineers
appeared upon the scene he went elsewhere.

Just before his first visit the good lady of the house had made a large
Union Jack in anticipation of the advent of the Carbineers. She knew that
if it fell into the hands of the Dutchmen it would not only go hard with
the flag, but with the homestead as well. She was determined it should
not be destroyed, and a happy thought struck her; she wrapped it
carefully round a pillow, and enclosed it in two pillow cases, one
reverse to the other, and placed it on the bed in which Beyers slept, so
that nightly he rested his head comfortably on the grand old Union Jack.
The flag was preserved, and for many months afterwards it fluttered nobly
in the breeze at Fort Edward.

For nearly a fortnight Beyers and his men stayed at the farm, moving
about among the settlers, helping themselves to the cattle and doing what
they pleased, and passing many a joke at the expense of the Fort Edward
garrison, who all this time were penned up and not allowed to move
outside the walls.

The men entreated the officers to take them out and engage Beyers, and
were almost on the verge of mutiny through the inaction of their leaders,
when reinforcements, including a detachment of the Field Artillery,
arrived from Pietersburg. Then, and only then, were the occupants of Fort
Edward permitted to move outside.

On the approach of the troops Beyers and his force fled in the direction
of the Waterberg, hotly pursued by the Carbineers, who several times came
in touch with them, and exchanged a few shots. In one of these
engagements the horse of Beyers' adjutant was shot under him, and he was
captured. He appeared to be of the better class of Dutchman, and a
well-informed man. He freely spoke of the tight way in which the
Spelonken district had been held under the military régime of Lieutenant
Morant, and said that the men of Beyers' commando absolutely refused to
work in that district until they learned of Morant's removal and arrest,
when they ventured back.

Beyers now turned his attention to Pietersburg. During the trial of the
Visser case, on the night of the 22nd January, the soldiers who were in
the blockhouses guarding the camp were enticed from their duty by the
Boer women. Beyers, with a strong force, then rushed the Burgher camp,
and, unchallenged, entered it, looted a quantity of provisions, and took
away 150 men who had previously surrendered and had been allowed to
remain with their families in the camp.

Upon an inquiry being made into the conduct of the soldiers on guard,
several were court-martialled and sentenced to terms of imprisonment
ranging from six months to two years.

It was anticipated that the Boers, having secured a large number of
recruits, would require remounts and equipment, so on the following day
arms were returned to the late officers of the Carbineers, and we were
ordered to be ready for duty when called upon. Next morning, just as the
day was breaking, the Boer force rushed upon the town, making for the
Remount Depot. This necessitated breaking through the ring of
block-houses at the point where Handcock was confined, and close to the
garrison prison where Morant was located. From my position near the
cow-gun I saw the Boers galloping madly over the sky-line, making for the
town, doubtless thinking that the forts were only dummies and unoccupied,
and expecting to annex the remounts as easily as they had the recruits.

They were allowed to come within fifty yards of the block-houses, when
they received a warm welcome from within in the shape of a shower of
bullets. They made a desperate effort even then to get through, firing as
they charged. Handcock was at the block-house nearest the point of
attack. This had originally been a small brick building, and had been
converted into a fort by being loop-holed and sangered.

Morant joined Handcock as soon as the firing commenced, and they climbed
together on to the flat roof of the fort, in the most exposed position.
Disregarding any cover, they fought as only such brave and fearless men
can fight. Handcock in particular, in his cool and silent manner, did
splendid work, one of his bullets finding its billet in Marthinus
Pretorius, Beyers' fighting leader. Handcock was the only man armed with
a Mauser rifle, and when Pretorius was brought in, dangerously wounded,
it was found that he had been struck by a Mauser bullet.

The Boers were repulsed, leaving many dead and wounded behind, some being
within a few yards of the block-house. Whilst they were beating a hasty
retreat in a north-easterly direction, I espied a party making round the
foot of Krughersberg Kopje, about one mile and a-half from the fort. I
drew the attention of the cow-gun officer to them, and he hurriedly had
the gun loaded, and sent a 50-lb. lyddite shell after them. This resulted
in a rather inopportune disaster that put the gun out of action until the
Boers had got safely away. When loading the gun, the gunners, in their
hurry and excitement, neglected to put the brake on the wheels to check
the recoil; consequently the shock of discharge drove it back to the top
of the inclined plane at the rear, then, running forward again, it took a
header off the gun floor into a deep ditch, burying the muzzle in the
ground, while the trail pointed in the direction of 10 on a clock--just
the time for the court to assemble. It was fortunate that none of the
gunners were killed; one man had his foot crushed by the gun running over
it, and he was removed to the hospital. No casualties from the other side
were reported.

Such a gun as that, in the hands of an inefficient officer, is a greater
danger to those around him than it is to the enemy.

The court met as usual that day. The members were just a little more
imperious; perhaps they were slightly tired by their exertions in the
early morning. During the day the Pietersburg Light Horse, a corps formed
in place of the now defunct Carbineers, went out under an Imperial
officer in pursuit of Beyers, and with him went any late members of the
Carbineers who had been detained in Pietersburg as witnesses at the
trials.

They came in touch a short distance out, at a place called Matapanspoort;
upon climbing a kopje and looking down on the other side, they saw
Commandant Beyers dismounted and within 150 yards of them. A late member
of the Carbineers at once covered him, and asked permission from the
officer commanding to open fire, or at least to shoot Beyers' horse and
capture him, but this request was refused until more men were got up from
below. In the meantime, Beyers, with a party of his men within easy
range, and the British troops looking idly on, was allowed to pass out
through the Poort. A little time after his departure another party came
riding in through the same pass. The commanding officer on the kopje was
just about to order his men to open fire, when one of them discerned that
the party approaching was some of their own men, who had been sent round
on the flank. Just as I write this I can extract a cablegram published in
the Melbourne "Age," and dated from London on 20th February, 1905, to the
effect that at a recent conference of leading Transvaal Boers at
Pietersburg "Ex-General Beyers made a violent speech, threatening that,
if representative and responsible government were not immediately granted
to the Transvaal, there would be a rebellion of Boers after the fashion
of the Slaghter's Nek rising in the old days of Cape Colony." He still
adheres to that deliverance, for a further cable said that, "In an
interview at Potgietersrust yesterday, Beyers declared that he meant what
he said at Pietersburg, and if a second Transvaal war should occur, the
blame would be with the capitalists, who are the controllers of the
present policy, and who are interested solely in the Rand mines."

I am wondering if Commandant Beyers is aware that he owes his life to the
hesitancy of an English officer.

The court should have had a little rest that day, and sent Morant and
Handcock after Beyers. A monument to his memory would then have been the
only cross the Empire would have had to carry for him.

Morant had his favourite horse, "Bideford Boy," stabled at the garrison
prison near him, claiming it as his private property; he kept it, too, in
spite of the requests and demands of the commandant to hand it over to
the Pietersburg Light Horse. He wrote this skit on the venture of the
Pietersburg Light Horse and the English major who went out and essayed to
capture Beyers:--

"A new foot-slogging Major has ventured out of town,
To spoil the mouth of 'Bideford,' and break the pony down;
But when he sallies after Boers, it's different now to then--
He's got to let the Dutchmen rip, to muster up his men."



CHAPTER XIV.

FURTHER PROCEEDINGS OF COURT-MARTIAL.

Next day the court adjourned to Pretoria to take the evidence of Colonel
Hamilton, military secretary to Lord Kitchener. My escort (or "tug-boat,"
as these individuals were termed in nautical phraseology by Lieutenant
Morant) was a newly-commissioned lieutenant in the Pietersburg Light
Horse.

Fully armed and equipped, we proceeded by rail to Pretoria. Quarters were
provided for all the prisoners at the Mounted Infantry Depot, about a
mile from the town. The following day the court, which was constituted as
at Pietersburg, assembled at the Artillery Barracks to take the evidence
of Colonel Hamilton; all the prisoners were present, and when this
officer appeared every eye was upon him. He was stern and hard-featured,
and looked just then very gaunt and hollow-eyed, as though a whole world
of care rested on his shoulders. He was apparently far more anxious than
those whose fate depended on the evidence he was to give. The following
is his evidence:--

Examined by the Court:--Lieut. Morant, in his evidence, states that the
late Capt. Hunt told him that he had received orders from you that no
prisoners were to be taken alive. Is this true?

Ans.: Absolutely untrue.

Examined by Counsel for Prisoners:--

Do you remember Captain Hunt taking two polo ponies early in July last up
to Lord Kitchener's quarters;' at which time you came in, and had a
conversation with Capt. Hunt?

Ans.: No. I have no recollection whatever. I have never spoken to Capt.
Hunt with reference to his duties in the Northern Transvaal.

The Counsel for the Prisoners then made the following address:--As
regards the evidence of Colonel Hamilton, just called, I wish to state
that the defence do not regard his evidence, one way or the other, as
having any real bearing on the defence; in fact, I submit to the court
that it is really illegal evidence. It really amounts to this: A certain
conversation is stated to have taken place between Colonel Hamilton and
the deceased, Capt. Hunt, which conversation was mentioned by Capt. Hunt
to Lieut. Morant, apparently in a confidential or private way. This,
having been obtained by the court from the prisoner Morant, is then
sought to be contradicted by the evidence of Colonel Hamilton, which, I
submit, is quite contrary to the laws of evidence. It really does not
matter much, from the point of view of the defence, where Capt. Hunt got
his instructions. The fact is clear from the evidence that Capt. Hunt did
tell his subordinates, not once, but many times, that prisoners were not
to be taken. This fact is admitted by witnesses for the prosecution. The
chief value of these instructions, as given by Capt. Hunt, is that they
go to show that he, being a man of some standing, and a personal friend
of Lieut. Morant, they were entitled to weight, and go to remove any
question of malicious intent.

Now, the four prisoners are jointly charged with the crime of murder--not
as principals, but as accessories before the fact. The principals, or
actual perpetrators of the alleged murders, are four troopers named
Silke, Thomson, Botha, and Honey, according to the indictment. As a
matter of fact, the evidence for the prosecution shows that there were
ten, and that they formed a firing party, which under orders shot Visser,
the man alleged to be murdered. It is charged that the prisoners
committed this offence, by wilfully, feloniously, and with malice
aforethought, inciting, instigating, and commanding these four persons to
kill and murder one Visser, and that the persons mentioned accordingly
did kill and murder him. This should be borne clearly in mind all through
the case, that these prisoners did not actually commit the murder, nor
are they charged with such, but with instigating others to do it. Now,
under the law, it is clear that he who instigates or procures another to
commit a felony is himself liable to the same punishment as the actual
felon. But persons charged with being accessories to the crime cannot be
convicted as such unless the guilt of the principals be first
established. Nobody can be an accessory to a crime which is not proven.
Under the old Common Law of England it was absolutely necessary that
before an accessory could be found guilty there should be an actual
verdict of guilty against the principal, so that if the principal managed
to evade justice the accessory escaped also. But under existing English
law, I believe the accessory may now be tried and convicted, although the
principal is not before the court, and has not been convicted but, I take
it, it would be only in very special circumstances that this would be
done, where it is absolutely impossible to obtain the principal, in order
to bring him to justice. It seems proper that if we suppose one man
instigates another to murder a third, and the murder takes place, and the
actual murderer flies the country before trial, if the fact of the murder
is clear and beyond all doubt, the accessory should not escape. But in
this case all the alleged principals are easily obtainable, yet we find
that not one of them is before the court, except that inferentially it is
averred in the charge-sheet that they actually murdered Visser. If that
is so, and they are murderers, why are not these four actual perpetrators
charged before the court? However, be that as it may, this must be very
clear to the court, that this court cannot convict the four prisoners of
inciting, instigating, or commanding the four troopers to commit the
murder, which murder it is alleged these four troopers actually
committed, unless they are satisfied that the troopers are malicious and
felonious murderers. The court must, therefore, I submit, clearly in its
mind say these four troopers are murderers, who may now or at some future
time be brought before a court of justice and tried for their lives as
murderers. That is the extraordinary position in which the court finds
itself, because these four troopers have merely been inferentially set
down as murderers. They must be convinced on these two points:--

(1) That they are murderers.

(2) That the prisoners now before the court incited them to commit that
murder.

If the court is not satisfied that they are men who should suffer death,
the charge against the prisoners, as accessories, must fall to the
ground.

Now, has the prosecution attempted to show that the murder was committed
by these troopers? I submit the contrary. Two were brought as witnesses
by the prosecution. They were not even warned to be careful lest they
should incriminate themselves, and, really, I submit to the court that
the assumption that these troopers are murderers is simply monstrous, and
cannot by any possible means be substantiated. Clearly, they only obeyed
the orders of a superior officer, and formed a firing party for the
execution of Visser after their officers had held a summary court-martial
and convicted him. There is not the slightest evidence that these
troopers were in any way a party to the shooting of Visser, except that
they obeyed their orders as soldiers. They are, therefore, not murderers.
How can they be called such? If they are not murderers, there can be no
accessories to the alleged crime. Even if the court-martial was
improperly constructed, its proceedings informal, or its decision
illegal, how could these four troopers, against none of whom there is any
suggestion of crime, be regarded as murderers, simply because they fired
the shots which killed Visser. The guilt of the four prisoners depends
entirely upon the guilt of the four troopers. The troopers have been
stigmatised as murderers, so as to found the charge against the four
prisoners. If it was desired by the prosecution to shift home a malicious
and unwarrantable act, resulting in the death of this man, it seems to me
that the four prisoners should be charged with conspiring together to
bring about the death of Visser by unlawful means. It should have been
made a conspiracy amongst themselves, and the troopers should have been
left out of it. Instead of which these men are called murderers.

Suppose these four troopers were now on trial and said they simply obeyed
their orders, the court could not have convicted them, and I say that the
charge, if any, against the prisoners should be a conspiracy amongst
themselves to do an illegal act. Yet another difficulty arises when we
come to deal with the prisoners individually. Lieutenant Morant, no
doubt, is primarily responsible, being senior officer at the time when
the trial took place, and the court has to be satisfied in his case, as
in that of the others, that he deliberately and feloniously ordered the
men to commit murder. There is no doubt that Captain Hunt did give
certain very definite orders to Lieutenant Morant, and on his death Mr.
Morant took over command. There is no doubt that his conduct was largely
influenced by the treatment of the body of his friend, showing
circumstances of barbarity, even if the injuries inflicted upon Captain
Hunt, as clearly shown by Mr. Reuter's testimony, were done after death,
although the medical evidence goes to show they were committed before
death. There is no doubt that this did prompt him with the spirit of
retaliation against the Boers who had done this thing. In war retaliation
is justifiable, revenge is justifiable. Rules applicable in times of
peace are quite inapplicable in times of war. In the Manual of Military
Law it is stated, "Retaliation is military vengeance;" it takes place
when an outrage committed on one side is avenged by a similar act on the
other. I am free to admit that this maltreatment of his friend did
exercise an influence over him when he came to deal with this man Visser,
and it is natural he should be so influenced. He pursues these Boers,
which ends in the capture of Visser, whom he finds wearing clothing the
property of the late Captain Hunt. I go so far as saying that under the
circumstances Mr. Morant would have been perfectly justified in shooting
Visser straight away. The fact of wearing British uniform is altogether
against the customs of war, and I know that this man Visser was present
when Captain Hunt was killed from the evidence. At the request
apparently, of Mr. Picton, it was decided to give Visser a
court-martial--such a court-martial as is frequently held in the field,
under the circumstances in which this was held. Informal, no doubt; how
can we expect formality in the field, in the immediate vicinity of the
enemy, and when Visser himself admitted that the Boers had promised to
recapture him? All this is provided for in the Manual of Military Law. We
claim that substantial justice was done, and I submit that there is
nothing whatever to satisfy the court that Mr. Morant ordered a wilful or
felonious murder. On the contrary, under the Rules of War, I consider
that he was quite justified in confirming the sentence. The evidence of
Captain Taylor shows that these men were the offshoots of commandoes and
mere outlaws, who went about looting from Kaffirs, and, what I say now I
wish to apply to all the prisoners. They were dealing in that particular
district with a party of irresponsible outlaws, under no recognised
control, sending in threats of torture, &c. In July, 1901, trains were
wickedly wrecked, and numbers of men wounded. Such men forfeit all rights
to be treated as prisoners of war. When irregulars are sent out to deal
with an enemy of this kind, marauders and train wreckers, the officers
should be allowed a wide discretion in dealing with them. If they err
technically, or even make serious mistakes, they must be upheld. We
cannot afford, in dealing with people of this description, to go into
nice points of sentiment. I submit the irregular troops, sent out to deal
with the people in this particular district, were entitled to deal with
them as outlaws. I do not ask for proclamations to say we must do these
sort of things, but we must take it for granted that we must do so.
Departures from the usual customs of war have, in many instances, been
visited by the troops by methods which they merit. No one denies that
chivalric actions have been done by the Boers, but I say also that there
are districts where that sort of thing does not occur at all, and notably
in the particular district in which Visser was caught.

If the prisoners have been mistaken in their views as to what they were
entitled to do, then it must be assumed that they erred in judgment; they
may be even open to censure, but not charged with committing murder.

I claim from this court that the prisoners shall not be stigmatised as
inciters to murder, because, acting on a responsibility which was
naturally their own, they did carry out what I submit is only martial
judgment. Lieutenant Picton undoubtedly gave the order to fire to the
firing party, and in doing so simply obeyed his orders. Witton and
Handcock simply, on being summoned to the court-martial, coincided with
the views of their superior officer; further than this they took no place
in the proceedings. They cannot be charged with inciting and instigating,
even if they concurred in the verdict; the verdict was of no effect until
confirmed by Mr. Morant.

I submit to the court that this charge is improperly made, or, if it is
ostensibly correctly made, then it must fall to the ground, for the
simple reason that this court cannot, I submit, say that the crime of
murder against the troopers is proved to the court's satisfaction, and if
that is not proved, then nobody can be found guilty of being accessory.

The Prosecutor replies:--

The defence has made a good deal of the fact that the court must hold the
four troopers guilty of murder before they can hold the four prisoners
now before them guilty of accessories. That is perfect nonsense. The
Manual of Military Law says that where a person has been guilty of
killing another the law presumes the killer to be guilty of murder (page
125), and on that the court must necessarily rest content, in so far as
the guilt or innocence of the troopers is concerned. This is borne out by
the statute law of England, which enables an accessory to be tried
before, after, or with a principal felon, irrespective of the guilt or
innocence of the latter.

The defence also raises the question, on the indictment, whether or not I
have succeeded in proving that the prisoners each and all incited and
commanded the troopers under their command to kill Visser. As regards
that, I have no doubt the Judge Advocate will direct you that where a
common criminal intent is proved to be shared by several persons, any
criminal action by any one of these persons in furtherance of that
criminal intent, may be visited on any one of them, and could any clearer
proof of common intent be submitted than the prisoners' own description
of what took place at the so-called court-martial. I thought that the
prisoners would rely mainly on the alleged orders of Captain Hunt, and on
this so-called court-martial for their defence. To the first contention I
would point out, a complete answer is returned by the Manual of Military
Law, which says that an officer is responsible for the carrying out of
even lawful commands which result in injury, and is a fortiori
responsible for the carrying out of obviously illegal and improper
commands from superiors. As regards the so-called court-martial, the
court cannot hold that it was a court-martial in any sense of the word.
It was anything that the court pleases except a tribunal, martial or
otherwise. It was a consultation, a conspiracy, a measure to mature a
criminal purpose, but it was not a court. And even if it were, and even
if the court were fully and properly constituted, still, according to the
Manual of Military Law, the members of such court would be liable to be
hanged if they had illegally carried out a sentence of death.

But these defences have really hardly been urged by the defence at all
seriously. Counsel for the defence appears to rely mainly on the
technical objection to the indictment raised first of all, on the nature
of the warfare waged against the Bushveldt Carbineers, and on the fact
that Visser was shot in retaliation for Captain Hunt's death. Now, the
latter point is the strongest possible point in the case for the
prosecution. It proves conclusively the malice of the prisoners. Captain
Hunt, so far as they knew and had reason to suppose, was killed in fair
fight, and there was even then nothing whatever to connect Visser with
his death, and yet every one of the prisoners, as well as the counsel for
the defence, admits that the real reason for shooting Visser was because
Hunt had been killed. Could proof of malice conceivably be clearer?
Counsel for the defence urges that retaliation is recognised as
legitimate by the Manual of Military Law. That is a mere twisting of
words, and I think it is hardly necessary for me to urge on a body of
military men the danger of acknowledging the right of subaltern officers
to avenge their private grievances on prisoners of war who happen to fall
into their hands. Retaliation has a perfectly definite meaning in
military law, and means the deliberate and authoritative taking of
measures of reprisal, as answer to some action on the part of the enemy
contrary to the customs of war, but it certainly does not mean that
subordinate officers are entitled to shoot prisoners who fall into their
hands because an officer of their regiment has been killed. There is not
a grain of evidence to connect Visser with Hunt's death, nor to show that
Hunt was not killed in fair fight.

As to Major Thomas' (counsel for defence) argument, based on the state of
the country, could anything be more preposterous than to say that minor
officers are entitled to make war on principles of barbarity approved
only by themselves? If they do so they must abide by the consequences.



CHAPTER XV.

CLOSE OF THE VISSER CASE.

The Judge Advocate summed up as follows:--With reference to this case, it
would appear that the prisoners considered that they had justification
(in virtue of their instructions from the late Captain Hunt regarding the
treatment of Boer prisoners of war) for the course they adopted, also
that they acted under provocation and in ignorance.

The general rule is that a person is responsible for the natural
consequences of his own acts. If several persons meet with a common
intent to execute some criminal purpose, each is responsible for every
offence committed by any one of them in furtherance of that purpose.

A person is in all cases fully responsible for any offence which is
committed by another by his instigation, even though the offence may be
committed in a different way from the one suggested. The fact that the
blame is shared by another will not relieve a person contributing to the
death from responsibility.

If a person has unlawfully caused death by conduct which was intended to
cause death or grievous bodily harm to some person, whatever the
intention of the offender may have been, he is guilty of murder. It may
be taken generally that in all cases where a killing cannot be justified
or excused, if it does not amount to murder it is manslaughter, and a
person charged with murder can be convicted of manslaughter. Again, the
offence is manslaughter if the act from which death results was committed
under the influence of passion arising from extreme provocation; but it
must be clearly established, in all cases where provocation is put
forward as an excuse, that at the time when the crime was committed the
offender was actually so completely under the influence of passion
arising from the provocation that he was at that moment deprived of the
power of self-control, and with this view it will be necessary to
consider carefully the manner in which the crime was committed, the
length of the interval between the provocation and the killing, the
conduct of the offender during the interval, and all other circumstances
tending to show his state of mind.

Ignorance of law is no defence to a criminal charge, but such ignorance
may be properly taken into consideration in determining the amount of
punishment to be awarded.

The essence of the crime of murder is malicious intent. I would point out
that the prisoners did not carry out the order they allege to have
received re the shooting of Boers in khaki until after the death of
Captain Hunt, which they admit biassed their minds.

The rights of killing an armed man exists only so long as he resists; as
soon as he submits he is entitled to be treated as a prisoner of war.

As regards the treatment of an enemy caught in the uniform of his
opponent, it would have to be shown that he was wearing such uniform at
the time with the deliberate intention of deceiving.

Enemies rendered harmless by wounds must not only be spared; but humanity
commands that if they fall into the hands of their opponents the care
taken of them should be second only to the care taken of the wounded
belonging to the captors.

The prisoners, their escorts, and counsel then retired to the corridor
while the court consulted upon a verdict; in a little over half an hour
we were recalled. Glancing round the court, I noticed one of the members
in tears. My attention was arrested, but I did not then attach any
significance to it.

On our appearance in court we were requested to state our military
service, which was as follows. Statement as to service by Lieutenant H.
H. Morant, B.V.C.:--

"I have held a commission since 1st April, 1901, in the Bushveldt
Carbineers.

"Prior to this I was in the South Australian Second Contingent for nine
months. I was a sergeant in that corps, and was promoted to a commission
out of that corps into the Transvaal Constabulary, but went home to
England for six months. I came out again and joined the B.V.C.; since
then I have been serving on detachment the whole time. I hand in a letter
from the O.C. South Australians.

"In March, 1900, I was carrying despatches for the Flying Column to
Prieska, under Colonel Lowe, 7th D.G. I was in the general advance to
Bloemfontein, and took part in the engagements of 'Karee Siding and
Kroonstadt and other engagements with Lord Roberts until the entry into
Pretoria. I was at Diamond Hill, and then was attached to General
French's staff, Cavalry Brigade, as war correspondent with Bennet
Burleigh, for the London 'Daily Telegraph,' and accompanied that column
through Belfast and Middleburg to the occupation of Barbeton, when I went
home to England."

The letter from the O.C. South Australians read:--

My dear Morant,--There seems to be an immediate probability of the S.A.
Regiment returning either to Australia or going to England, so I hasten
to send you a line wishing you "Au Revoir." I desire to wish you most
heartily every success in your future career, and to express my entire
satisfaction with your conduct while with the South Australians. Your
soldierly behaviour and your continual alertness as an irregular carried
high commendation--and deservedly--from the whole of the officers of the
regiment. I trust that in the future we may have an opportunity of
renewing our pleasant acquaintanceship.

Statement by Lieutenant Picton:--

"I have been in South Africa two years on service. I hold my commission
in the B.V.C. since last May. Previous to that I was attached to the 8th
M.I., and served under Colonel Le Gallais. I have received the
Distinguished Conduct Medal, and been mentioned in despatches. I have
been three times wounded since the outbreak of the war.

"I produce three letters from different commanding officers under whom I
have served, and could refer the court to Col. Hodgson, commanding 9th
Area, Cape Colony.

"During the month I was in Spelonken under Capt. Hunt I took 37
prisoners, 50 rifles, 15 waggons, and 500 head of cattle, mules, horses,
&c."

Letter (1) from Captain Savil, O.C. Loch's Horse:--
Sergeant Picton came out with Loch's Horse as a corporal in February,
1901. He has given entire satisfaction to his officers, and I am very
pleased to state I have found him not only very plucky when in action,
but steady and painstaking in the execution of his duty.

He has been recommended for the D.S.M. Having been under my personal
command for some time, I cannot speak too highly of his good conduct.

Letter (2):--
This is to introduce to you Sergeant Picton, of my corps, Loch's Horse.
He is a worthy fellow and well connected, and is seeking a commission.
Could you help him in getting such, in your regiment? I understand you
have some vacancies.

Letter (3) from Lieut.-Colonel Hickee, O.C. 8th M.I.:--
I am sending Sergeant Picton, Loch's Horse, for discharge. He has served
with the 8th Corps M.I. for the last eleven months, and has been under my
command since 9th November, 1900. I am able to say that he has carried
out his duties in a most satisfactory manner.

He is a most efficient interpreter and a good man in the field, and was
recommended to the C. in C. for his behaviour at Bothaville.

Statement by Lieutenant Handcock, B.V.C.:--

"I have served about twelve months in the New South Wales Mounted
Infantry as a farrier; about two months in the Railway Police, Pretoria;
and from the 22nd February last year in the Bushveldt Carbineers as
veterinary lieutenant."

Statement by Lieutenant Witton, B.V.C.:--

"I have held a commission since June last in the B.V.C. I was previously
in the 4th Contingent Imperial Bushmen (Victorian) as Q.M.S. for fourteen
months. Formerly I was in the Victorian Permanent Artillery about twelve
months as a gunner.

"I have also served nearly two years in the Victorian Rangers, Volunteer
Corps.

"I received my commission for raising a gun detachment for the B.V.C."



CHAPTER XVI.

THE EIGHT BOERS CASE.

The Visser case was now over. Not the slightest hint was given that we
had been found guilty, and a sentence passed; I was never informed as to
the finding of the court regarding this case, but three years later I
read in a newspaper summary of the evidence that I had been found guilty
of manslaughter and cashiered. The case had barely concluded when Captain
Burns-Begg, who had acted as prosecutor, was ordered to England. It
seemed as though he was required at the War Office to give particulars
personally of the trial and of the disclosures that had been made there.
Major Bolton now took the place of Captain Burns-Begg; Major Ousely,
D.S.O., and Captain Marshall were also relieved as members of the court,
and their places were filled by Captains Matcham and Brown.

The reconstituted court started from Pretoria for Pietersburg on the 31st
January.

When we entrained it was evident our social status had undergone a
decided change. The accommodation provided was the same for the return
trip as when going down, but this time we were not permitted to enter a
carriage. After considerable delay a small, dirty, covered-in truck was
attached to the train, into which we were crowded, with our escorts,
servants, and baggage. It was a sweltering day in January, and the effect
it had upon us is more easily imagined than described.

When nearing Warm Baths Station the train pulled up; it was reported that
a party of Boers were crossing the line. A member of the court came to
our little sheep-truck, and for the second time during our trial we were
ordered to stand to arms. Morant prayed, as I am sure he never prayed in
his life before, that we might get into action. The members of the court
did not reciprocate his feelings, but did their best to avoid action, and
kept the train at a standstill for over an hour while they carefully
examined the surrounding country through their field-glasses, giving the
Boers ample time to get out of sight. Then, moving on slowly from
block-house to block-house, we safely passed the point of danger.

We arrived at Pietersburg on 1st February, and the court assembled again
on the 3rd to adjudicate on what was called the eight Boers case. Morant,
Handcock, and myself were arraigned on the charge of shooting or
instigating others to shoot these. The main facts, as adduced by the
evidence for the prosecution, were not disputed. At the close of the
evidence for the prosecution, Major Thomas, the prisoners' counsel, made
the following protest:--"I submit the charge of inciting to murder has
not been proved. The prisoners are alleged to be accessories before the
crime of murder. They are not charged with being conspirators, and I
submit that the alleged charge of murder against the principals has not
been established, and, if so, there can be no accessories. I submit that
the proper way to have brought this case before the court should have
been in the form of a charge for conspiracy."

The court ruled that the case must proceed. Major Thomas then said that
he did not propose to put the prisoners in the box, as the main facts
were not disputed, but statements would be handed in, and the evidence he
would call would be confined to three things--orders received, the
customs of the war, and the practices adopted in other irregular corps
against the enemy when breaking the customs of war.

This is the statement made by Lieutenant H. H. Morant:--

"I do not feel called upon, nor am I advised by my counsel, that it is
necessary for me to enter the witness-box in this case. In the case of
Visser I gave the fullest explanation of my position and my instructions
regarding the Boers captured in the Spelonken district. I was distinctly
and repeatedly told by my late friend and commanding officer, Capt. Hunt,
on our arrival at Spelonken, which happened a few days after the
train-wrecking occurrence, that no Boer prisoners were in future to be
taken. I have already shown in Visser's case, and can bring further
evidence in this case, to prove that Capt. Hunt gave these orders not
only to me, but to others under his command, that is, 'that no prisoners
were to be taken,' and he reprimanded me for not carrying out this order.

"Capt. Hunt had been my most intimate friend in South Africa. We were
engaged to two sisters in England. He joined the B.V.C. in order to be in
the same regiment as myself, and he practically asked Major Lenehan that
we might be together in the same squadron. Capt. Hunt had Imperial
service in the 10th Hussars, and some colonial service in French's
Scouts, and I had implicit confidence in him and regarded his orders as
authoritative and bonâ fide. Until Capt. Hunt's body was found stripped
and mutilated I shot no prisoners, though I maintain it is generally
known that Boers who had been concerned in misdoings and outrages, such
as the nomadic Dutchmen of the Spelonken, had been executed summarily by
many Irregular Corps who have done good work in South Africa. After Capt.
Hunt's death and the brutal treatment of him, alive or dead, I resolved
as his successor and survivor to carry out the orders he had impressed
upon me, orders which other officers have in other places and in other
corps carried out, with the provocation we had received. The Boers had
left my friend's body, the body of an Englishman and officer, lying
stripped, disfigured, and not buried--thrown into a drain like a pariah
dog. Moreover, I had heard so much about the deeds of these particular
Boers that I have charged with murder, reports which connect them with
train wreckings and maraudings. I also know they belonged to the same
gang that had maltreated and dishonoured the body of my friend and
brother officer. I considered I was quite justified in not treating such
men with the amenity usually accorded to prisoners of war, and I am quite
satisfied that they fully deserved the summary execution they received.
In ordering these Boers to be shot, I did so fully believing that, in
view of what Capt. Hunt had so distinctly ordered me, and what I myself
knew bad been done elsewhere, I was practically right and justified by
the rules of guerilla warfare.

"I was Senior Officer of the B.V.C. in the Spelonken, and for the
ordering of the shooting of these Boers I take full and entire
responsibility. I admit having sent in an 'edited' report, but I did
so for reasons which have actuated higher military authorities than
myself. I have been told that I was never myself after the death of
Capt. Hunt, and I admit that his death preyed upon my mind when I
thought of the brutal treatment he had received. This treatment of
Capt. Hunt's body, coupled with the train wreckings which had occurred,
made me resolve to act on orders and do as other officers have done under
less trying circumstances than myself.

"The alleged conversation between myself and Sergeant Wrench is
absolutely untrue; No such conversation ever occurred. It is an entire
fabrication."

Statement made by Lieutenant P. J. Handcock:--

"I am Veterinary Lieutenant. I have had a very poor education. I never
cared much about being an officer; all I know is about horses, though I
like to fight. Capt. Robinson said it was right to shoot traitors. Capt.
Hunt told us when he came out that no Boers were to be taken. I had often
heard that Boers were to be shot if they sniped or wore khaki or smashed
up trains. I do not know what the rule under such things is, but we all
thought that Capt. Hunt knew the correct thing. I did not much believe in
Capt. Robinson, and when he ordered the man to be shot I told Capt. Hunt
all about it. When he came to Spelonken, Capt. Hunt did not say it was
wrong; he said we were not to take prisoners any more, so I thought he
was doing his orders. I did what I was told to do, and I cannot say any
more. No conversation ever took place between Sergeant Wrench and
Lieutenant Morant in my presence, as stated by Sergeant Wrench in court."

Statement by Lieutenant Witton:--

"I had received my commission as a Lieutenant about six weeks before the
23rd August. I was told what the orders about Boers were as received from
Captain Hunt, and I took it they were correct; I did whatever I was told,
and raised no question one way or the other, as it is customary to obey
orders.

"Capt. Hunt and Lieut. Morant were great friends, and I supposed that all
orders were correct that Capt. Hunt gave. He was greatly relied upon by
all when he came to reform matters at Spelonken, after Captain Robinson
left.

"On the 23rd August one of the Boers rushed at me to seize my carbine,
and I shot at him to keep him off."

Lieutenant Picton gave evidence that he was moving out with a patrol
towards Scinde, when Captain Hunt gave him instructions not to bring back
any prisoners. He got some prisoners on this patrol and brought them back
to Fort Edward, and was reprimanded for doing so. One of the prisoners
was a man named Venter. He was sent to the Burgher Camp, and was one of
those who escaped from there and went on commando with Beyers. "He was
shot during the attack on Pietersburg, and I recognised him."

Captain Taylor was called to give evidence for the defence, and stated
that he remembered one time when Lieutenant Morant brought in prisoners;
he was asked by Captain Hunt why he brougnt them in; Capt. Hunt said they
should have been shot.

This witness was cross-examined by the Prosecutor as follows:--"Were you
not Officer Commanding of the Spelonken ?" He replied: "Yes; of the
district."

The exact words used by Captain Hunt when reprimanding Morant were
tersely related by another witness:--"What the hell do you mean by
bringing these men in? We have neither room nor rations for them here."

Numerous witnesses were called to prove that Captain Hunt had given
distinct orders that no prisoners were to be taken, and others to prove
what had been done to their knowledge in other corps. The Judge Advocate
twice protested that the evidence that was being produced was extremely
irrelevant, and the rule was that nothing should be admitted as evidence
that did not tend immediately to prove or disprove the charge in criminal
proceedings.

One witness, an Intelligence Agent, gave evidence that he had seen a Boer
summarily dealt with, who had been captured fully dressed in khaki.

Another witness gave evidence that in his column it was published in
orders that Boers captured wearing khaki were to be summarily dealt with.

Cable messages also appeared in the Australian press, dated November,
1901, that Lord Kitchener had issued orders that all Boers who were
captured wearing the khaki uniform of British troops should be shot.

It was also stated in another cablegram received a short time before this
that a number of Boers wearing khaki belonging to the commando of
Commandant Smutz had been captured by Colonel Gorringe, and had been
shot.

The ordinary regulations provide that in time of peace any person found
wearing a military uniform of the British forces, when not entitled to do
so, may be fined £10, while for the same offence in time of war the death
penalty can be exacted.

In the face of this Major Bolton went into the witness-box, where he said
that he had "no knowledge" of a proclamation that Boers taken in khaki
were to be shot.

This was the time Lord Kitchener should have been put in the box, and the
facts of the case and all necessary information obtained direct from him
in the interests of justice and the Empire generally.

(This incident came under my notice while we were being tried at
Pietersburg. A small patrol of the Pietersburg Light Horse, mostly raw
recruits, went out scouting. When approaching a farm house they saw
several men walking about dressed in a similar fashion to themselves;
they rode up, dismounted, and entered into conversation. They were
greatly astonished when they were covered by the rifles of the others,
and ordered to hand over their arms and ammunition. Upon this being done,
they were requested to hand over their uniforms; when they were stripped
they were allowed to return in a nude state to Pietersburg. The party
into whose hands they had fallen were a party of Irish-Americans fighting
with the Boers.)

Major R. W. Lenehan, late of the Bushveldt Carbineers, gave evidence that
Lieutenant Handcock was a veterinary officer, and that he had not wished
him to go to Spelonken, but upon representation being made he allowed him
to go. Mr. Handcock had a very strong sense of duty, and anything he was
ordered to do he would do without the slightest question, no matter what
it might be.

Major Thomas, the prisoners' counsel, then handed in his address, as
follows, which was read and attached to proceedings:--

The main facts, as adduced by the evidence for the prosecution, are not
denied by the defence. The long statement, alleged to have been made by
Lieutenant Morant to the witness Wrench is denied, and the court must
form its own opinion, from the attitude of Wrench, as to whether or not
he has not drawn considerably upon a rather vindictive imagination for
his glibly-told story. But even if true, this does not affect the real
issue. Apart from any question of law, such as was raised at the
conclusion of the evidence for the prosecution, and which this court
perhaps can scarcely deal with, the prisoners' defence is that, no matter
in what way the charge against them has been, or might have been framed,
the action they respectively took in the summary execution of these eight
Boers was justifiable, or, at any rate, not criminal. That which would be
a crime, a felony, or a malicious act in time of peace may be quite
justifiable in time of war, and doubly so in guerilla warfare, waged
against men who cannot be regarded as lawful belligerents, but only as
lawless bands of marauders, who carry on desultory hostilities, combined
with train wreckings and other uncivilised practices. Upon such an enemy
I maintain our troops are justified in making the severest reprisals, and
are entitled to regard them, not as lawful belligerents at all, but as
outlaws.

But having regard to the immensely wide area over which the present war
in South Africa has for more than two years extended, the nature of the
country, and the peculiar class of people who keep the fighting going, it
happens that, whilst in one part of the theatre of war the enemy's
methods may be such that we cannot take great exception to them, how ever
senseless and infatuated the prolongation of the strife may seem to us,
yet in other parts of the country quite a different kind of operations
are in vogue, operations of such a nature that they must be treated as
uncivilised and often barbarous. In one district we may meet a large
organised body of Boers fighting under a recognised and honourable
commandant, whilst in another district we find ourselves pitted against
roving bands under no recognised leader. It was against the latter class,
and especially during the months of July, August, and September last,
that the small Spelonken detachment of the Bushveldt Carbineers, to which
the prisoners belonged, were sent out to operate under special orders. A
small body, about 100 strong, they had to work over a vast area of
difficult country, where, in small patrols and parties they had literally
to hunt down the shifting bands of the enemy, in kloofs and almost
inaccessible places, taking their lives in their hands. And sufficient
evidence has come out during these cases to show how excellently their
work was done. Practically they cleared the Spelonken district of Boers,
many of whom found harbour there after their exploits against trains on
the Pietersburg line. Even the prosecution admit that these Boers were of
a bad class, and that this was the character of some, if not of all, of
the eight men alleged to have been murdered.

We have shown that train wreckers were in the district at this particular
period, and we have put in an official return of their doings in this
respect, starting from 4th July last. On that date a train-wrecking
occurred, in which an officer and a number of men were killed--the
officer being a friend of the late Captain Hunt. Closely following upon
this, Captain Hunt was sent to take charge of the Spelonken detachment,
and it is abundantly proved that his orders were "No prisoners" after
this-no quarter. He impressed this upon his officers and non-commissioned
officers, and reprimanded them for non-observance of his orders. He had
been in the regular army, and his instructions, coming as he did to
institute a new order of things at Spelonken, were entitled to weight
from irregular subordinates. It was quite evident that they were guided
by him, but it was not until Hunt himself was killed, with rather brutal
surrounding circumstances, that his directions were fulfilled. After this
his successor, Lieutenant Morant, as he says, resolved to carry out
previous orders. Up to this Morant had been particularly lenient towards
prisoners, and there is no proof (but the very opposite) of his being of
a malicious or cruel nature. It is true that after Hunt's death he
changed a good deal, and adopted the sternest measures against the enemy.
In civil life, and if trying a civil offence, under civil and peaceful
conditions, it might be said that he became revengeful, but in time of
war revenge and retaliation are allowable. It would be cant and hypocrisy
to maintain otherwise. War makes men's natures both callous and, on
occasions, revengeful. What is the object of war? Simply to kill and
disable as many men of the opposite side as possible. In pursuing these
objects, soldiers are not to be judged by the rules of citizen life, and
often, as soldiers, they do things, which, calmly regarded afterwards or
in time of peace, appear, and are, unchristian and even brutal.

The more civilised the foe we deal with the more chivalric the methods of
warfare, and the brutal element is absent or rarely apparent. But when
the civilised rules and customs of war are departed from by one side,
reprisals follow from the other, and then the bad, the bitter, the
revengeful side of war is seen. If in every war, especially guerilla war,
officers and men who committed reprisals were to be brought up and tried
as murderers, court-martials might be kept going all the year. Such might
be the case in the present war, if all the reprisals, summary executions,
slaughters, were dragged before formal courts, argued over by counsel and
prosecutor as to points of law, and all the gruesome details exposed to
the light of day.

We cannot judge such matters fairly unless we place ourselves amidst the
same surroundings, and with the same provocations as obtained with the
men whose actions are to be tried. What are our irregular troops for? To
ride down, harry, and shoot the enemy, and I submit, if the latter
deserve it, to adopt strong retaliatory measures. These irregular
combatants of the army are really charged now with the bulk of the
fighting, and if they are to be restrained and tied down by strict rules,
such as might obtain were they fighting French or German soldiers instead
of guerillas, then the sooner they are recalled from the field the
better, or, at any rate, let definite instructions be issued for their
guidance. Do not let them have indefinite, hazy instructions as to what
they may do. Do not let us have officers reprimanded by their seniors for
hampering the column with prisoners, and at another time, and another
place, haul them up as murderers because they do the opposite. I fear
there is a great deal of rather mawkish sentimentality about some of
these Boer bands, who do so much to keep this prolonged war going in
spite of the marvellously good treatment the British have extended
towards their people, wives and children.

I refer again to the class of Boers which had to be combated in the
Spelonken in July, August, and September, and I maintain that it was to
be presumed, and the actions of other irregular corps elsewhere show,
that the Bushveldt Carbineers were not singular in this respect, that if
the foe committed outrages, and departed from the customs of war,
punitive measures might be adopted. If these officers have overstepped
the mark they should be upheld. The Boers brought these measures on
themselves, and should take the consequences of their collective acts in
the district. We cannot discriminate as to who did this or that; they
must all be regarded as involved in, or countenancing nefarious practices
which provoked reprisal. Their own countrymen are beginning to become
disgusted with the prevailing methods, and in hundreds are joining the
British, in hope of stopping the useless fighting which is desolating
their country, and keeping all South Africa chafing under martial law.
South Africa is a cosmopolitan country, and what affects the British
affects large numbers of Germans and other foreigners, who are excluded
from their homes or from settling here. For the interests of the
foreigner, and even the Dutch themselves, as well as the British our
troops are fighting, and on our irregulars falls the brunt of it. Are we
to recognise them as, irregulars or as regulars? From irregulars
irregularities are to be expected, and cannot be avoided. Let us, if we
employ them in guerilla tactics, either definitely instruct them by clear
orders and proclamations as to how far they may go, or uphold them if
they have not been so instructed and thus fallen into error. If these
arguments apply in ordinary cases, they have especial force in the
present case, where Lieut. Morant acted under express directions conveyed
to him by his deceased superior officer, and if he followed these
instructions when he himself took over command, believing that he was
justified in following them, then any "criminal intent" is disproved, and
if this applies to Lieut. Morant, it applies again with still greater
force to his subordinate lieutenants, Handcock and Witton. Lieut. Morant
honourably acknowledges in his written statement the responsibilities of
his position as senior officer, but that he also takes upon himself the
burden of a crime is repudiated and denied.

In conclusion, I would quote the following passages from the Chapter on
Customs of War, as comprised in the Manual of Military Law, issued for
our guidance by the Army, remembering, however, that no precise rules can
be laid down to meet all the varying styles of warfare. Such rules can be
but guides as to our actions, and in default of clear orders abrogating
these, I submit that they are to be followed as far as applicable.

"The first duty of a citizen is to defend his country, but this defence
must be conducted according to the Customs of War." Further, "War must be
conducted by persons acting under the control of some recognised
Government, having power to put an end to hostilities, in order that the
enemy may know the authority to which he may resort when desirous of
making peace." Under ordinary circumstances, therefore, persons
committing acts of hostility who do not belong to an organised body,
authorised by some recognised Government, and do not wear a military
uniform, or some conspicuous dress or mark, showing them to be part of an
organised military body, incur the risk of being treated as marauders and
punished accordingly.

"Persons, other than regular troops in uniform, whose dress shows their
character, committing acts of hostility against an enemy, must, if they
expect when captured to be treated as prisoners of war, be organised in
such a manner, or fight under such circumstances, as to give their
opponents due notice that they are open enemies from whom resistance is
to be expected."

"Retaliation is military vengeance; it takes place where an outrage
committed on one side is avenged by the commission of a similar act on
the other."



CHAPTER XVII.

THE SECOND COURT-MARTIAL (Continued).

As reference was made by Major Thomas to a witness named Wrench, I attach
his evidence:--

On the 19th August you were sent out to take charge of some prisoners?

On the 19th August I went out with nine men to bring in some prisoners.
The prisoners were handed to me by Ledeboer, of the Intelligence. Five
bolts were also given to me, taken out of the prisoners' rifles, and
these were distributed amongst the men. We returned, and arrived at the
hospital on the evening of the 22nd August, and camped there for the
night. On the morning of the 23rd August, at about 7 a.m., Lieuts.
Morant, Handcock, and Witton, Sergt.-Major Hammett, and Troopers Duckett
and Thompson, came out. Mr. Morant informed me that Tom Kelly, with about
forty Boers, were in the immediate vicinity. Mr. Morant gave me orders to
saddle up and inspan the waggon at once, and get on the road. I was to
extend the men well away in the bush, and keep in the centre of the road
myself, and to skirmish at least a mile ahead of the waggon.

Mr. Morant said I was to keep a sharp look-out, as no doubt I would hear
firing, and when I did so I was to immediately gallop back to him. When
we first came in sight of Bristow's Farm, one shot was fired by somebody
hidden. I then gave orders to dismount, and then two other shots were
heard in the same place, the farm. I did not go back to report this to
Mr. Morant. Shortly afterwards about fifteen shots, as far as we could
make out, were fired in our rear, at least 1000 yards behind. I then gave
the order to mount, and we went on to Bristow's Farm, to report to
Captain Taylor, having received instructions to do so from Mr. Morant. I
reported the arrival of the patrol to Capt. Taylor, who was walking about
in front of the house in a very excited state. I told Capt. Taylor I had
handed over the eight Boers to Mr. Morant and his party. Some time after
this I was sent for by Mr. Morant. Mr. Morant and Mr. Handcock were lying
each in their beds. Mr. Morant had a letter in his hand, and said to me
that I had made a fool of myself, and that this was the letter reporting
me, and that it would very likely mean a court-martial for me. After a
little conversation Mr. Morant said "Don't let us beat about the bush.
From what I can see of it, there are several men here who don't agree
with this shooting. I want you to go round to the men and find out those
who are willing to do it and those who are not, and then we will soon get
rid of those who don't agree. I had orders to weed out the Fort, which
you know I did, but I still find there are a lot of sentimental left. I
have had several letters of congratulation from headquarters over the
last fight, and now I've started I mean to go on with it. From what I can
see of it, you had a rotten lot of men, but we will give you another
chance. I shall send out a small patrol in a few days; I shall pick my
own men this time, and send you with them." When Mr. Morant spoke of
finding the men who were agreeable and who were not, Lieut. Handcock
said, if he could only get ten men, that would be sufficient for his
purpose.

Did Mr. Morant say why you were to be tried by court-martial?

Yes. That three parties of our people met the Boer prisoners returning to
the Fort, who were not guarded, which was not true. He said the first
party were Kaffir scouts. I said that that did not amount to much. The
next party were our own Intelligence. I then asked who the third party
were. He said, "Don't let us beat about the bush," and then the subject
started.

Do you know who fired the three shots that were heard?

No. They were fired from the farm.

Wrench was cross-examined by the Counsel for the Prisoners.

This conversation you refer to, is it related exactly as it occurred?

Not exactly, but words to that effect. I have not added to it. I may have
left something out. It occurred about 8 o'clock. I was not in bed. We
were playing cards. The two officers were in bed when this conversation
took place. It occurred about a week after the Boers were shot--about the
30th August.

You once got yourself into trouble in the Spelonken with Captain Hunt?

No, never.

Is it not a fact that you were reported for insolent conduct to
Sergt.-Major Clark, and were reprimanded for it?

I did not get on well with Sergt.-Major Clark.

On account of your bad conduct, were you not threatened to be tied up to
a waggon by Captain Hunt?

No, never.

Did you not ask Mr. Morant to save you from that taking place?

No, but I spoke to Mr. Morant, and reported the conduct of Sergt.-Major
Clark on patrol to Saltpan.

Was anyone else present except Mr. Morant and Mr. Handcock?

No; only those two.

Wrench was examined by the court:--

"How many prisoners did you hand over?"

"Eight. They were voluntary surrenders."

"Were you present when they surrendered?"

"No. I was not present when they surrendered."

"Then you do not know whether they were captured prisoners or had
voluntarily surrendered?"

"Ledeboer said they had surrendered to him."

A statement of the trains wrecked in the district from 4th July, 1901,
was also put in:--

The first wreck occurred on 4th July, about five miles north of
Naboonspruit. There were killed and died of wounds: One officer (Lieut.
Best, Gordon Highlanders) and fifteen men, three natives. Wounded: Seven
Gordon Highlanders, one native.

The second attempt at train-wrecking occurred on 10th August, 1901, 3 1/2
miles N. if Groon Vlei (about 12 or 13 miles N. of Nylstroom). Lieut.
Burnett, Gordon Righlanders, beat off Boers. No record of our casualties,
which were very slight.

The third train wreck occurred on 3ist August, 1901, at Kilo 35, between
Waterfall and Haman's Kraal. Killed and died of wounds: One officer (Col.
Vandeleur), twelve men, and two natives. Wounded: Twenty officers and
men.

The Prosecution handed in a written reply as follows:--

I submit to the court that the witnesses have shown by their evidence,
which is very clear, that on the evening of the 22nd August the prisoners
Lieut. Morant and Lieut. Handcock sent for Troopers Thompson and Duckett
and warned them for a patrol the following morning, telling them at the
time that they were going out to shoot eight Boer prisoners or
surrenders.

About 5 a.m., 23rd August, the patrol, consisting of Lieuts. Morant,
Handcock, Witton, Sergeant-Major Hammett, and Troopers Duckett and
Thompson, left Fort Edward and proceeded towards Elim Hospital, where
they met Sergeant Wrench in charge of the eight Boers. Lieut. Morant told
the members of this patrol that these men were to be shot, and that the
signal for this would be when he said, "have you any more information,"
or some words to that effect. Sergt. Wrench was ordered to proceed then
with his patrol to the Fort, Lieut. Morant taking charge of the prisoners
with his party. About half way back the convoy halted, and the eight men,
who were unarmed, were ordered about twenty paces off the road and
questioned by Lieut. Morant, and on his giving the signal were shot down
by the members of this patrol. The defence do not in any way question
these facts materially, but try to justify them in three ways:--

Firstly: That they were only carrying out orders from superior authority.
All I have to say on this head is that such orders, if given, do not
constitute a lawful command and need not be obeyed.

Secondly: That other irregular corps had done the same thing. Even if so,
two wrongs do not make a right.

Lastly: That the character of these men was such that they did not
deserve any other treatment. I must submit to the court that, even if
these men had been caught red-handed committing some outrage, they, once
having surrendered or been taken prisoners and disarmed, were entitled to
our protection until such time as they would be brought to trial.

I have nothing further to say, and so leave it to the court to say if the
prisoners are guilty of the crime of which they are charged, or if their
acts were such as are customary in civilised warfare.



CHAPTER XVIII.

IN THE NAME OF JUSTICE!

The following is the summing-up by the Judge Advocate

In the case now under consideration the prisoners practically admit
having committed the offence with which they stand charged, but maintain
that they had justification for the course they pursued, and that there
was palliation for their action owing to the fact, as alleged by them,
that similar occurrences have taken place during the course of this war,
and have been ignored or condoned.

I would point out that two wrongs do not make a right, and that the
commission of a wrongful act can scarcely be urged as a justification for
the repetition of that act.

I would point out that war is not a relation of man to man, but of State
to State, and of itself implies no private hostility between the
individuals by whom it is carried on.

The object of war is the redress by force of a national injury. Wars are
the highest trials of right, and it is scarcely seemly that they should
degenerate into a medium of personal revenge. Retaliation is military
vengeance. It takes place when an outrage committed on one side is
avenged by the commission of a similar act on the other.

Retaliation is the extreme right of war, and should be resorted to only
in the last necessity, and then only by someone in authority. The first
principle of war is that armed forces, so long as they resist, may be
destroyed by all legitimate means.

The right of killing an armed man exists only so long as he resists; as
soon as he submits he is entitled to be treated as a prisoner of war.
Quarter should never be refused to men who surrender, unless they have
been guilty of some such violation of the customs of war as would of
itself expose them to the penalty of death, and even when so guilty they
should be put on their trial before being executed, as it is seldom
justifiable for a combatant to take the law into his own hands against an
unresisting foe.

Where an act complained of is itself unlawful, bona fides or honesty of
purpose is no excuse; how far a subordinate could plead the specific
commands of a superior, such commands being not obviously improper or
contrary to law, as justifying an injury inflicted, is doubtful.

The rule is that a person is responsible for the natural consequence of
his acts.

If several persons go out with a common intent to execute some criminal
purpose, each is responsible for every offence committed by any one of
them in furtherance of that purpose. A person is in all cases fully
responsible for any offence which is committed by another by his
instigation.

If a person has unlawfully caused death by conduct which was intended to
cause death or grievous bodily harm to some person, whatever the
intention of the offender may have been, he is guilty of murder. If a
person is proved to have killed another, the law presumes prima facie
that he is guilty of murder.

It will be on the accused to prove such facts as may reduce the offence
to manslaughter, or excuse him from all criminal responsibility. It may
be taken generally that in all cases where a killing cannot be justified,
if it is not murder it is manslaughter; again, the offence is
manslaughter if the act from which death results was committed under the
influence of passion arising from extreme provocation, but it must be
clearly established in cases when provocation is put forward as an excuse
that at the time the crime was committed the offender was so completely
under the influence of passion arising from the provocation that he was
at that moment deprived of the power of self-control, and with this view
it will be necessary to consider carefully--(1) The manner in which the
crime was committed, whether deliberately and with premeditation, and
also (2) the length of the interval between the provocation and the
killing, so as to establish the fact that the alleged provocation was a
justification of the crime.

I must further draw the attention of the court to the fact that much
irrelevant evidence has been allowed to be produced, which will require
careful sifting before they can arrive at a just finding.

The conclusion of this case was similar to the first, our military
service being again taken. No intimation was given as to the nature of
the verdict or the sentence.

This concluded the charges against me, and I was not required to attend
subsequent sittings of the court; my guard was now more relaxed than
hitherto. Often I went about the garrison unattended, and in the company
of an unarmed non-commissioned officer frequently visited friends in the
town.

On the afternoon following the conclusion of the "eight Boers" case I
attended a cricket match, which took place on the town cricket-ground,
mingling with, among others, the president and members of the court, who
had only the previous day, though I was not then aware of it, passed upon
me the extreme penalty of the law, "To suffer death by being shot." With
the exception of a surprised kind of stare from the haughty president, my
presence there was unheeded. Incidents such as these tended to convince
me that the penalty hanging over me could not be a very serious one. We
were often provided with horses, and permitted to take riding exercise in
the morning before breakfast.

The trial of Major Lenehan was now proceeded with. The charge against him
was that, being on active service, he culpably neglected his duty by
failing to report the shooting by men of his regiment, the Bushveldt
Carbineers, of two men and a "boy." He pleaded "Not guilty." The main
evidence in this case was given by Trooper Botha, a Dutchman, who had
been Lieutenant Morant's favourite servant, though he was proved to have
been at heart a traitor, for as soon as Morant got into trouble he
immediately turned round and did him every harm in his power. There are
men who could testify to hearing Botha ask Morant's permission to shoot
Visser; he was allowed as a volunteer to form one of the firing party
that did shoot him, yet at the court-martial he stated in evidence that
he had objected to form one of the firing party, which was absolutely
untrue.

Some time after the conclusion of the trials Trooper Botha was
"accidentally" shot. His death could not be attributed to the condemned
officers, as two had taken their departure to another world, the rest for
other lands.

This Botha stated "that the three Boers were being brought in by Captain
Taylor's Police, and were shot by five of the Carbineers; he reported
what had been done to Morant in the presence of Major Lenehan." The five
Carbineers of the patrol were Lieutenants Morant and Handcock,
Sergeant-Major Hammett, Corporal McMahon, and Trooper Botha.

Major Lenehan had arrived at Fort Edward on the very day that these three
men were shot. I had met him going out as I was on my way to Pietersburg
with prisoners. During dinner, at which were present Major Lenehan,
Captain Taylor, Lieutenants Morant and Handcock, and Surgeon Leonard, an
argument arose regarding the trustworthiness of Dutchmen on British
service. Captain Taylor said they were not trustworthy, but Morant
maintained the affirmative. In support of his arguments he sent for
Botha, and in reply to questions put by Morant, he said he was a good
soldier, and had done his duty and shot Boers.

Major Lenehan was further charged with having failed to report that a
trooper of the Carbineers, Van Buren, had been shot by Lieutenant
Handcock. He pleaded "Not guilty." Ex-Captain Robertson was the principal
witness for the prosecution in this case. He said he knew Van Buren, who
had been shot; he had been warned that he was not to be trusted, and men
refused to go on duty with him. He, Taylor, arid Handcock had a talk over
it, and decided he was to be shot. He said that he made a report of this
occurrence, and also of the shooting of six men, to Major Lenehan. The
report made of Van Buren's death was not a true one; he had concealed the
true facts in the interests of the corps.

Major Lenehan, in his defence, said that he had never been informed of
the actual manner of Van Buren's death.

The counsel for the defence, Major Thomas, referred to the fact that
Major Lenehan had already been, under arrest for three months (similar to
that of the other officers), and protested against an officer being kept
so long without trial. Robertson was the man who should have reported,
and he had done so falsely. He and Taylor were the men who should have
been prosecuted, but Robertson had been allowed to resign
unconditionally. The verdict and the sentence were not made known.

The next case was then gone on with. Lieutenants Morant and Handcock were
charged with instigating the killing of two men and one boy, names
unknown.

Sergeant-Major Hammett deposed that he formed one of the patrol which the
prisoners accompanied in search of three Boers. It was agreed that when
the Boers were discovered, and Morant asked, "Do you know Captain Hunt"
they were to be shot. This was done.

In this case Lieutenant Morant again chose to go into the witness-box,
and gave evidence on oath. He deposed that he went out to look for the
three Dutchmen. He never asked them to surrender; they were Dutchmen with
whom we were at war, and belonged to a party which had stripped and
mutilated a brother officer, and he had them shot.

Major Bolton was asked if he wished to cross-examine the witness, and
upon replying in the affirmative Morant sprang up, and passionately
exclaimed, "Look here, Major, you are just the 'Johnnie' I have been
waiting to be cross-examined by; cross-examine me as much as you like,
but let us have a straight gallop." In the cross-examination Morant's
retorts were so straight and so bitter that they resulted in the collapse
of the Prosecutor after a very few questions had been asked.

The court then sat to hear the charges against Captain Alfred Taylor, who
was accused of murder in inciting Sergeant-Major Morison, Sergeant
Oldham, and others to kill and murder six men, names unknown.

The following is a summary of the evidence taken:--

Sergeant-Major Morison, Bushveldt Carbineers, deposed that on 2nd July
preceding he paraded his patrol and reported to Captain Robertson. The
accused was present, and said he had intelligence that six Boers with two
waggons were coming in to surrender, but that he would have no prisoners.
The witness asked Captain Robertson if he should take orders from Taylor.
Captain Robertson said, "Certainly, as he is commanding officer at
Spelonken." Morison asked Taylor to repeat his order, which he did,
saying that if the Boers showed the white flag the witness was not to see
it. The witness repeated these orders to Sergeant Oldham, and warned six
men and a corporal to accompany Oldham as an advance party. Six Boers
were shot by the advance guard. These were the only ones met with that
day. The patrol went on, and the following day a larger party of Boers
with women and children was brought in, Taylor and Picton going to meet
them.

Sergeant Oldham stated that the previous witness warned him of six Boers,
and told him he was to make them fight, and on no account bring them in
alive. The Boers were ambushed. There was a man in front of a waggon
holding a white flag, and a great noise in the waggon. Oldham stopped the
fire, thinking there might be women and children, but since he found only
six men, as described in the orders, they were taken out and shot. He
believed the flag was put up after the firing commenced. The Boers were
armed and their rifles loaded. A good many prisoners were afterwards
taken and sent into Pietersburg. The witness addressed his report of the
affair to Captain Taylor by Morison's orders. Captain Robertson
complained, and the report was readdressed to him. Neither Taylor nor
Robertson were present at the shooting of the Boers.

Trooper Heath corroborated this. He said the Boers were disarmed, lined
out on the road, and shot.

Ex-Captain Robertson corroborated, and said that he had told Morison he
must take his orders from the accused. Oldham reported, "All correct;
they are all shot," and the witness saw the bodies.

Cross-examined, the witness admitted having had to resign and having been
refused admission to any other corps. Morison reported that he was
threatened with arrest. Morison demanded an inquiry, but broke his arrest
and went to Pietersburg. Taylor asked for the patrol, as six armed Boers
with two waggons were reported. Morison did not receive instructions from
Taylor in the witness's presence. It was usual for patrols to get orders
from Taylor.

Major Lenehan deposed to receiving orders to supply fifty officers and
men to proceed to Spelonken with Taylor. An inquiry was held in regard to
charges in which Robertson and Morison were mixed up. Colonel Hall
decided that it was better that Morison should go. This closed the case
for the prosecution.

The accused elected to give evidence in his own defence. He said that
during July last year he was in charge of natives and intelligence work.
He was formerly a lieutenant in Plumer's Scouts, and came down on special
service. No part of his instructions authorised him not to take
prisoners. He had no military command. His instructions went to the
officer commanding the detachment of Bushveldt Carbineers. Colonel Hall's
instructions were that a detachment of sixty men were to assist him in
the Zoutpansberg. He gave instructions to the officers, telling the
number of men required for patrols if any Boers had to be fought or
captured. He never in-interfered with non-commissioned officers but once,
when Lieutenant Picton placed Morison under arrest, and the witness
refused the latter permission to go to Pietersburg, although he
nevertheless broke his arrest and went. The witness received intelligence
of certain Boers coming in to surrender, but never of the party of six.
He never gave Morison any orders, and knew nothing about the six Boers,
nor had he asked for a patrol to meet them. That patrol took three days'
rations with it. The patrol afterwards brought in parties of Boers of
which the witness had been advised. The first intimation he had received
of the charge of six Boers having been shot was made yesterday in court.

Davidson, clerk to the accused, deposed to the fact that letters
addressed to the latter giving intelligence of the Boers were missing
from the office after someone else took the witness' place. The empty
file was found at his successor's office.

Otto Schwatz, an intelligence agent, spoke to having reported to Taylor
the intention of two parties of Boers to surrender, but said he had never
mentioned a party of six. Taylor was angry about the shooting of these
Boers.

Further evidence for the defence was taken to show animus on the part of
Morison.

Counsel addressed the court, who deliberated, and found the prisoner "Not
guilty."



CHAPTER XIX.

THE GERMAN MISSIONARY CASE.

The trial of the last, and what was considered the most important case,
that of the murder of the alleged German missionary, was opened on the
17th February. Lieutenant Handcock was charged with having killed Mr.
Hess; Lieutenant Morant was charged with the offence of inciting to
murder. For some unknown reason this case was heard privately in the
garrison, and not publicly in the town, as the others had been.

Another court was also constituted, with Lieutenant Colonel McVean, C.B.,
Gordon Highlanders, as president. The members were:----Major L. L.
Nichol, Rifle Brigade; Major E. Brereton, Northampton Regiment; Captain
E. Comerwell, York Regiment; Captain Stapylton, Royal Field Artillery;
Captain Rhodes, Welsh Regiment; and Captain Kent, Northampton Regiment.

Morant and Handcock pleaded "Not guilty," and the following evidence was
adduced:--

Trooper Phillip deposed that on 23rd August preceding he was on Cossack
Post duty, when a Cape cart, containing the missionary and a Cape boy,
was going in the direction of Pietersburg. The missionary showed a pass
signed by Capt. Taylor. He was greatly agitated, saying there had been a
fight that morning and several had been killed, but he did not say
whether they were British or Boers.

Corporal Sharp said that he had seen Morant addressing Hesse, and had
afterwards seen Handcock riding in the same direction as the missionary.
It was about 10 or 11 a.m. when the missionary went past, and Handcock
went about 12. The latter had a carbine. He did not take the same road as
the missionary.

Cross-examined, the witness admitted that he had gone a long way to fetch
one Van Rooyen, who, he thought, was an eye-witness of the killing of the
missionary. He did tell Trooper Hodd that he would walk barefooted from
Spelonken to Pietersburg to be of the firing party to shoot Morant. He
admitted that Handcock had issued an order against soldiers selling their
uniforms, in consequence of the witness having done so. He had made it
his business to collect notes of what was going on at Spelonken.

Two witnesses said that Handcock had left the fort that day with a rifle.
He was on a chestnut horse. It was not unusual for an officer to carry a
rifle.

A native deposed to having seen an armed man on horseback following the
missionary. The man was on a brown horse. The witness afterwards heard
shots, and then saw the dead body of a coloured boy. He took fright and
fled. This was about 2 p.m. Trooper Thompson testified to having seen the
missionary speaking to the Boers who were shot.

Other witnesses gave evidence as to having seen Hesse speak to Taylor
while Morant was present after the shooting of eight men.

H. van Rooyen gave evidence as to having spoken to the Rev. Hesse on the
road about 2 p.m. The witness trekked on with his waggon till sundown,
when he saw a man on horseback coming from the direction of Pietersburg.
The man turned off the road. Afterwards the man came on foot to the
witness. He could not say if it was the same man that he had seen on
horseback. The man on foot was Handcock, who advised the witness to push
on, as Boers were about.

Trooper Botha deposed that he was one of the patrol of which Handcock had
charge, and which found the missionary's body.

The case for the presecution then closed.

The accused Morant deposed that on 23rd August eight Boers guilty of
train-wrecking and other crimes were shot by his orders. Hesse spoke to
these Boers, and was told not to do so. Afterwards the witness saw Hesse
in a cart. He produced a pass signed by Taylor. The witness advised him
not to go on to Pietersburg because of the Boers. Hesse said he would
chance it, and by the witness' advice he tied a white flag to the cart.
The prisoner returned to the fort and then went to Taylor's, and he
afterwards saw Handcock at Bristow's. Handcock went on to Schiels'. The
prisoner never made any suggestion about killing the missionary. He was
on good terms with him.

The accused Handcock made a statement as to his doings on that day. He
said he left on foot for Schiels' in the morning, taking the road which
branched off to the Pietersburg-road, and then across country. He lunched
at Schiels', and then went to Bristow's till dusk, then back to the fort.

Mrs. Schiels, who lived on a farm about three miles from Fort Edward, the
wife of Colonel Schiels, an artillery officer, who had fought with the
Boers, and had been captured and sent as a prisoner to St. Helena, gave
evidence that Lieutenant Handcock had lunch at her house on the 23rd
August, and left during the afternoon.

Mrs. Bristow, who lived about a mile from Fort Edward, and was not on
speaking terms with Mrs. Schiels, was the wife of an old settler in the
district who had not taken any part in the war. This witness deposed that
Lieutenant Handcock had been at their place on the afternoon of the 23rd
August, and had returned to the fort in the evening.

The court gave a verdict of "Not guilty" in the case of both prisoners.



CHAPTER XX.

EXECUTION OF MORANT AND HANDCOCK.

After the conclusion of the trials, we waited three days to hear our
fate; at times Morant appeared much worried, and gloomy forebodings would
sometimes depress him. He would often say to me: "What do you think they
will do with us? Do you think they will shoot us?"

On one of these days I was spending the afternoon with Morant, Handcock,
and Picton at the prison. We whiled away the time in the garden at the
back, where grew several peach trees laden with green fruit. When anyone
passed with whom we were intimately acquainted, he would be saluted with
a shower of hard peaches. Presently there came along in an old ricketty
buggy a deposed Kaffir chief, Magato, who was in the employ of the
Intelligence Department as a spy, and who had just before tried to
swindle Morant out of a kaross, or rug of skins; he was greeted with a
volley of the hard fruit. Appearing to take no notice, he drove straight
away, and lodged a complaint with the Garrison Adjutant. Half an hour
later Major Lenehan received an official letter from the Adjutant to the
effect that complaints had been made about the conduct of his officers at
the garrison prison, and requesting that he should cause the same to be
discontinued.

The correspondence was passed on to Lieutenant Morant, and on the back of
it he dashed off this reply:--

An Intelligence Nigger named Magato
Has been singing a sad obligato,
And begs to complain
He suffered much pain
By being struck with a squashy tomato.
[P.S.--For "tomato" read "peach"--exigency of verse.]

This was returned to the Adjutant; that night at dinner, in the officers'
mess, it was handed round the table, to the great amusement of all.

On the night of the 20th the last remnant of the Carbineers met at a
dinner at Morant's quarters in the garrison prison. Majors Thomas and
Lenehan, Captain Taylor, Lieutenants Morant, Handcock, Picton and myself
were there. The evening passed very pleasantly; the wearisome trials were
forgotten, and it seemed like old times again. As if to fill our cup of
joy to the very brim, an orderly from the brigade office came and
informed Morant that a staff-officer had said in his hearing that the
result of the court-martial was that he and his subordinates were
exonerated. This bit of news greatly elated us, and in high spirits at
the thought of freedom on the morrow I returned to my quarters, near the
cow-gun, about 10 o'clock, where I was met by the officer in charge, who
informed me that he had orders for me to move to the garrison prison
there and then. After protesting against moving at such an unseemly hour,
I had my bedding packed up and returned to the scene of our festival at
the prison. I made a shakedown in Handcock's room, and turned in, fully
expecting that this would be the last night of my imprisonment. The
morning brought with it a rude awakening. At six o'clock Captain Brown,
2nd Wiltshire Regiment, came to the prison, and informed us that we were
to entrain for Pretoria at 7 o'clock. We hastily got our kits together
and had breakfast, when the Provost-Sergeant came to us carrying four
pairs of handcuffs. After apologising for the unpleasant duty he was
compelled to perform, he handcuffed us separately. When Morant held out
his hands, he remarked, "This comes of empire building." His position
then seemed to strike him very forcibly, for he broke down completely and
wept.

We were then escorted under a guard with fixed bayonets to the station,
and confined in two closed armoured trucks, Major Lenehan (who was not
handcuffed), Lieutenant Morant and myself in one, and Lieutenants
Handcock and Picton in the other. An officer and six men in each truck
acted as guard. While waiting on the platform to entrain, Major Bolton
came up to us, as though to gloat over the successful consummation of his
labours. Picton turned to him, and exposing the irons on his hands,
called out, "I have to thank you for these, Major Bolton." Major Thomas
had not been informed of our departure, and consequently did not travel
with us. This was probably done to prevent any interference on his part;
he followed on, however, shortly after.

Quite a crowd had gathered on the station, many laughing and joking as
though it were a picnic excursion, others bewildered and wondering what
was to be our fate. It appeared to me to be an insult to the British
uniform we wore that we should undergo the indignity of being placed in
irons before we were sentenced or deprived of our badge of rank. I could
not think that our position called for such precautions, and held there
must be some mistake, perhaps the result of officiousness on the part of
the Provost-Marshal.

Leaving Pietersburg on the morning of 21st February, we arrived at
Pretoria the following day, and were met by a strong escort of military
police. Here we were placed in a van with armed men on either side of us,
and with mounted police armed with revolvers and swords riding in the
front and rear, and on both flanks. There were quite enough to form a
bodyguard for the Commander-in-Chief himself.

With the exception of Major Lenehan, who was sent on to Capetown, we were
driven to the old Pretoria Gaol. This was the first time I had ever been
inside a civil prison. My first impressions were anything but
encouraging; the warders appeared most uncivil. The first one we met told
us in a domineering manner to "face the wall," then commenced to order us
about. Morant resented this treatment; turning to him he said, "Look
here, warder, recollect although I am a prisoner I am still a British
officer, and will be treated as such."

On being taken to the reception room, we were stripped and our clothing
carefully searched; we were then examined, and a complete description for
identification purposes taken. Our own clothes were returned to us, and
we were then taken to separate cells and locked up--in the quarters where
Dr. Jameson and his followers had been confined after his disastrous and
abortive raid on the Boer Republic a few years previous.

When the cell door closed behind me the thought came into my mind that
for some underhand motive my position from the beginning had been falsely
represented to me. I had treated it too lightly; gloomy forebodings as to
the future then struck into my heart. Even then I could not believe that
capital punishment would be meted out to any of us.

The following morning we were removed to another part of the prison, and
occupied a row of cells on the west side of the yard, which I afterwards
learned were known as the "condemned cells." During the day Captain
Purland, Inspector of Prisons, visited us; he was an old acquaintance of
Morant's, and at the request of this officer he relaxed much of the
prison discipline. Instead of being kept locked in our cells all day,
they were thrown open at 5.30 in the morning until 7 p.m. During the day
we were allowed to associate with each other; tobacco, cigars, and
cigarettes were sent to us, which we were permitted to smoke. We had been
at Pretoria nearly a week before the findings of the court were made
known.

We arrived there on Saturday, 21st February, and it was not until
Thursday, 26th February, that we were called into the Governor's office
and informed of our fate. We were walking about the yard as usual at 8
o'clock, Morant asking me the same question that he had asked me before,
"What are they going to do with us? Do you think they will shoot us?" I
scouted the idea of it, and tried to reassure him by saying that if they
shot us they would require to go on shooting officers every day.

A warder then came to Morant and informed him that he was required at the
Governor's office. He walked over, and in a few minutes returned. His
face was deathly pale; he looked as though his heart had already ceased
to beat. I exclaimed, "Good God, Morant, what is the matter?" "Shot
to-morrow morning!" was the reply. Handcock was called next; when he
returned he appeared quite unconcerned. "Well, what is it?" I asked. "Oh,
same as Morant!" he wearily replied, as though he were tired of it all,
and felt relieved that the end had came at last.

I was next called, and walked across the yard quite prepared for, and
fully expecting, the same fate as the others. On being ushered into the
Governor's office, I was taken before Captain Hutson, Provost-Marshal of
Pretoria. Glancing at me he said, "George Ramsdale Witton, you have been
found guilty of murder and sentenced to death." He paused for a time, as
if to give me the full grasp of that sentence. He then continued, "Lord
Kitchener has been pleased to commute your sentence to penal servitude
for life." I was then marched out, feeling quite resentful because my
sentence had been commuted, as I felt that death a thousand times would
be preferable to the degradation of a felon's life; I had already
suffered a dozen times over pangs worse than death.

Lieutenant Picton was the next called. He soon returned. "Well, what
luck?" I asked. "Found guilty of manslaughter and cashiered!" was his
reply. The appalling injustice of the sentences was a terrible blow to
us.

Morant by this time had pulled himself together, and was his old self
again. He requested to be provided with writing material, and immediately
petitioned to Lord Kitchener for a reprieve. Handcock at the same time
also wrote, asking neither mercy nor anything else for himself, but
begged that the Australian Government would be asked to do something for
his three children.

To Morant's petition there came a brief reply from Colonel Kelly, second
in command at Pretoria, stating that Lord Kitchener was away on trek. He
could hold out no hope of reprieve; the sentence was irrevocable, and he
must prepare to bear it like a man. Handcock's letter was returned to him
without an acknowledgment. At the same time I sent out two telegrams--one
to Mr. Rail at Capetown, another to my brother in Australia. I was
officially informed that they had been sent, via Durban, but I learned
later that both had been suppressed.

During the day Major Thomas visited us; the terrible news had almost
driven him crazy. He rushed away to find Lord Kitchener, but was also
informed by Colonel Kelly that the Commander-in-Chief was away, and not
expected to return for several days. He then begged Colonel Kelly to have
the execution stayed for a few days until he could appeal to the King;
the reply was that the sentences had already been referred to England,
and approved by the authorities there. There was not the slightest hope.
Morant and Handcock must die.

After sentence had been passed upon Morant, the Provost-Marshal asked him
if he wished to see a clergyman. "No!" he replied, in his usual fierce
and curt style; "I'm a Pagan!" Handcock, hearing of this, inquired, "What
is a Pagan?" Upon being enlightened, he said, "I'm a Pagan, too!" Thus
these two went out of this life believing there was no God. Little wonder
either!

During the afternoon two warders were busily engaged in the workshop, not
a chain away from our cells, making two rough coffins; we could hear them
quite distinctly all the afternoon, and knew what they were doing. In the
evening they could be seen in the prison yard, where they had been placed
just outside the workshop door.

At four o'clock I was informed that I would leave for England at five the
following morning. At six a hamper was sent in containing a nicely got-up
dinner for four. We laid it out in my cell, but it was scarcely touched.
After the awful events of the day we had no relish for a feast. It was
the last meal that two of the company would partake of in this world.
Morant remarked, "Not to be blasphemous, lads; but this is 'The Last
Supper.'" At seven two warders came to lock up for the night. At the
request of Morant, he and Handcock were allowed to pass their last night
on earth together. At the last moment I bade Morant good-bye. He said,
"It's hard lines and a sideways ending, thus being sacrificed as an
atonement to pro-Boer sentiments. Good-bye, Witton; tell the 'Bulletin'
people 'The Breaker' will write no more verse for them; I'm going into
'laager' in the morning."

Morant spent most of the night writing, and then wrote his last verse

In prison cell I sadly sit,
A d--d crestfallen chappy,
And own to you I feel a bit--
A little bit--unhappy.

It really ain't the place nor time
To reel off rhyming diction;
But yet we'll write a final rhyme
While waiting crucifixion.

No matter what "end" they decide--
Quick-lime? or "b'iling ile?" sir--
We'll do our best when crucified
To finish off in style, sir?

But we bequeath a parting tip
For sound advice of such men
Who come across in transport ship
To polish off the Dutchmen.

If you encounter any Boers
You really must not loot 'em,
And, if you wish to leave these shores,
For pity's sake, don't shoot 'em.

And if you'd earn a D.S.O.,
Why every British sinner
Should know the proper way to go
Is: Ask the Boer to dinner.

Let's toss a bumper down our throat
Before we pass to heaven,
And toast: "The trim-set petticoat
We leave behind in Devon."

At five the next morning, 27th February, I was roused by a warder, who
informed me that an escort was waiting for me as soon as I was ready. I
asked permission to say good-bye to Morant and Handcock. I was allowed to
see them only through the small trap-door. I clasped their hands through
this for the last time, and could scarcely stammer a good-bye. I was more
unnerved at the thought of their hateful death than they were themselves.
They were calmly prepared to meet their death, as they often had been
before at times during the war.

I was then taken away to the Chief Warder's office, handcuffed, and
handed over to an escort of Cameron Highlanders, who took me to the
railway station, thence to Capetown. At the prison gate I passed a squad
of Cameron Highlanders waiting to be admitted. It was unnecessary to ask
why or what they were there for. It was a heart-breaking sight.

I was told that at six o'clock the warders threw open the door of the
doomed men's cell, and asked, "Are you ready?" "Yes!" replied Morant,
"where is your firing party ?" Hand in hand in the grey light of the dawn
they walked out to their death. To Lieutenant Edwards Morant said,
"Remember the Boers mutilated my friend Hunt. I shot those who did it. We
had our orders; I only obeyed them when Hunt was murdered. I did it.
Witton and Picton had nothing to do with it; I told them so at the
court-martial." They faced the firing party unflinchingly. While waiting
at the Pretoria Railway Station I distinctly heard in the clear morning
air the report of the volley of the firing party, the death knell of my
late comrades, and I knew they had gone to that bourne from whence no
traveller returns. So went out two brave and fearless soldiers, men that
the Empire could ill afford to lose.

It was Morant's last wish that he should be buried decently, and outside
the precincts of the prison. Some comrades claimed the bodies, and
interred them in the Pretoria cemetery; there Morant and Handcock went
into their last long "laager." I shudder now as I write this and recall
those awful days, so vividly impressed on my memory.

Those courts-martial were the greatest farces ever enacted outside of a
theatre, and were held purely to conform to the rules of military law.
The sentences were decided upon the evidence taken at the court of
inquiry, at which no one was given an opportunity of making a defence, or
even of denying the slanderous and lying statements made by prejudiced
and unprincipled men. Morant and Handcock were sentenced to death long
before the court sat to take evidence for the murder, or supposed
complicity in the murder, of the said German missionary. It was not
intended to seriously punish me, but a conviction in that case having
been missed, it was necessary to include me to secure Handcock: For
shooting Boers Captains Taylor and Robertson, Lieutenants Picton and
myself, Sergeant-Major Hammett and the troopers were practically let off.

When Australians were waiting expectant and astounded for the truth
concerning the terrible news that was coming through in dribbles--with
its stories of outrage, robbery, and murders--this report was sent by
Lord Kitchener to the Governor-General of Australia in reply to an urgent
request for information, and was published in the Australian press on the
7th April, 1902, and throughout the civilised world:--

"In reply to your telegram, Morant, Handcock, and Witton were charged
with twenty separate murders, including one of a German missionary, who
had witnessed other murders. Twelve of these murders were proved. From
the evidence it appears that Morant was the originator of the crimes,
which Handcock carried out in cold-blooded manner. The murders were
committed in the wildest part of the Transvaal, known as Spelonken, about
eighty miles to the north of Pretoria, on four separate dates, namely,
2nd July, 11th August, 23rd August, and 7th September. In one case, when
eight Boer prisoners were murdered, it was alleged in defence to have
been done in a spirit of revenge for the ill-treatment of one of their
officers--Lieutenant Hunt--who was killed in action. No such
ill-treatment was proved. The prisoners were convicted after most
exhaustive trial, and were defended by counsel. There were, in my
opinion, 'no extenuating circumstances.' Lieutenant Witton was also
convicted, but I commuted the sentence to penal servitude for life, in
consideration of his having been under the influence of Morant and
Handcock. The proceedings have been sent home."

To show the effect of the above report, I extract a few comments from
leading journals:--

"Argus," 29th March, 1902:--"The London reports do not mention the
alleged provocation of the Capetown corps, whose officer was murdered and
mutilated."

"Leader," 12th April, 1902:--"The War Office report, supported by the
direct able message received by His Excellency the Governor from Lord
Kitchener, Commander-in-Chief in South Africa, has removed any
possibility of our laying this flattering unction to our souls. We are
not even able to discover any plea of extenuation which would lessen the
guilt of deliberate and despicable murder on the part of those who were
principally concerned, and who have suffered the penalty of their crime.
The explanation originally offered by those who professed to speak with
some knowledge of the circumstances went to show that the shooting of the
Boer prisoners was in the nature of retaliation for an outrage committed
on a wounded British officer who was said to have been brutally done to
death. This statement is still persisted in by Lieutenant Picton, one of
the officers tried by court-martial, who, though found guilty of
manslaughter, escaped with the minor punishment of being cashiered."

"Age," April, 1902:--"The suggestion that the Boers were killed in a
spirit of revenge for the ill-treatment of Captain Hunt is also
discounted by Lord Kitchener's statement that no such ill-treatment was
proved, and that there were 'no extenuating circumstances.'"

"Adelaide Register," 13th June, 1904:--"The accused pleaded that the
Boers in the district which they had to patrol were merely bands of
marauders who had 'stripped and mutilated a brother officer, but Lord
Kitchener reported that no such maltreatment could be proved."

"Leader," April, 1902:--"It is not conceivable that Lord Kitchener would
have approved the sentence of death unless there was some reason shown
for this unalterable punishment."

"Commercial Advertiser," New York, April, 1902:--"The impartial
punishment of colonials by Lord Kitchener should check the torrent of
abuse on the Continent against Great Britain."

The following is a true copy of the findings of the court, and furnishes
a complete answer and direct contradiction to Lord Kitchener's statement
that there were "no extenuating circumstances":--

CASE I.--VISSER CASE.

SENTENCE.
The court sentence the prisoner Sentence.

Lieut. H. H. Morant, Bushveldt Carbineers, to suffer death by being shot.
Death.

Signed at Pretoria this 29th of January, 1902.
H. G. DENNY, Lieut.-Col.,
C. S. COPLAND, President.
Judge Advocate.

RECOMMENDATION TO MERCY.

The court strongly recommend the prisoner to mercy on the following
grounds:--

1. Extreme provocation by the mutilation of the body of Capt. Hunt, who
was his intimate personal friend.

2. His good service during the war, including his capture of Field-Cornet
T. Kelly in the Spelonken.

3. The difficult position in which he was suddenly placed, with no
previous military experience and no one of experience to consult.

Signed at Pretoria the 29th day of January, 1902.
Confirmed--H. C. DENNY, Lt.-Col.,
KITCHENER, General. President.
25th February, 1902.

Promulgated at Pretoria, 26th of February, 1902, and extracts taken.
Sentence carried out at Pretoria on the 27th February, 1902.

H. W. RUTSON, Asst. Prov. Marshal,
Pretoria, 27th February, 1902. Pret. Dist.

EIGHT BOERS CASE.

SENTENCE.
The court sentence the prisoners--Sentence.
Lieut. H. H. Morant, Bushveldt Carbineers, to suffer death by being shot.
Death.

Lieut. P. J. Handcock, Bushveldt Carbineers, to suffer death by being
shot. Death.

Lieut. G. R. Witton, Bushveldt Carbineers, to suffer death by being shot.
Death.

Signed at Pietersburg, this 4th of February, 1902.

H. C. DENNY, Lt.-Col.,
C. S. COPLAND, Major, President.
Judge Advocate.

RECOMMENDATION TO MERCY.

The court recommend Lieut. H. H. Morant to mercy on the following
grounds:--

Provocation received by the maltreatment of the body of his intimate
friend, Capt. Hunt.

Want of previous military experience and complete ignorance of military
law and military procedure.

His good service throughout the war.

The court recommend Lieut. P. J. Handcock and Lieut. G. R. Witton to
mercy on the following grounds:--

1. The court consider both were influenced by Lieut. Morant's orders, and
thought they were doing their duty in obeying them.

2. Their complete ignorance of military law and custom.

3. Their good services throughout the war.

Signed at Pietersburg this 4th day of February, 1902.
H. C. DENNY, Lt.-Col., President.

I confirm the finding and sentence in the case of Lieuts. Morant
and Handcock.

I confirm the finding in the case of Lieut. Witton, but commute the
sentence to one of penal servitude for life.

25th February, 1902. KITCHENER, General.

Promulgated at Pretoria on the 5th February, 1902, and extracts taken.
Sentence carried out at Pretoria on the 27th February, 1902.

H. W. HUTSON, Capt.,
Court Provost Marshal, Pretoria District. 27th February, 1902.

The 2nd July, the first date mentioned in Lord Kitchener's report, was
the date on which six Boer prisoners were shot, when Captains Taylor and
Robertson were in charge at Spelonken, and for the murder of whom Captain
Taylor was tried and acquitted (details page 137).

The 2nd July Lieutenant Morant was not serving with the Spelonken
detachment, and I had not then joined the Carbineers, but was at East
London, in Cape Colony.
There is one fact, however, and that is, no one has yet been punished for
the shooting of the six Boers on the 2nd July.

The court-martial, after a most exhaustive trial, acquitted Morant and
Handcock on the charge of shooting the German missionary (see Chapter
XIX.).



CHAPTER XXI.

"IMPRISONMENT FOR LIFE!"

The distinction between a trial by court-martial and a trial by civil
court is illustrated by the trial of Barend Celliers, a Boer, for the
murder of a British officer, which took place about twelve months after
the trial of the Carbineers. I extract the following:--

"The trial of Barend Celliers, an Orange Free State field-cornet, for the
murder of Lieutenant Boyle, a British officer, in 1901, was concluded at
Bloemfontein. Celliers did not deny shooting Lieutenant Boyle, but
pleaded not guilty on the ground that he had obeyed the orders of
Commandant Philip Botha. General De Wet, who had previously held a
court-martial on Celliers for shooting Lieutenant Boyle, and had
acquitted him, gave evidence that Philip Botha, who had died some time
ago, had expressed himself very strongly against Lieutenant Boyle, but he
was not aware that Botha had ordered Boyle to be shot, though he might
have done so without his knowledge. The jury acquitted Celliers."

Lieutenant Boyle was for a time the British officer in charge at
Dewetsdorp, and for some reason or other became very obnoxious to the
Boers of the town, the women especially hating him. Philip Botha, whose
commando was in the neighbourhood, said to Celliers and others, "If ever
we get Dewetsdorp again, I shall settle up with Lieutenant Boyle." When
the town was recaptured Boyle was taken prisoner with other officers, but
was kept separate from them. After he had been held a prisoner for about
a week, Celliers went to his tent accompanied by another Boer, and
ordered him out on the veldt. When some distance from the laager,
Celliers (who said he had been ordered by Philip Botha to shoot him)
informed Boyle that he had five minutes for prayer, and shot him in the
back while he was still on his knees praying.

No court-martial or pretence of court-martial was ever held by the Boers
upon Lieutenant Boyle, and no charge was ever made directly against him.
When General De Wet inquired into the case he held Philip Botha
responsible, and took no action because the latter was dead. The jury
agreed with his decision.

These cases are sufficient to justify my belief that courts--martial and
military tribunals should be speedily wiped out of existence. A trial by
judge and jury, in an ordinary court, should never under any
circumstances be departed from.

I left Pretoria on the morning of the 27th, and reached Nauuport about
midnight. At 2 o'clock I was awakened by a crash and a sudden jolt, which
almost threw me from the upper berth in which I was lying; the train then
suddenly stopped. Upon inquiry from my guard I learned that our train had
collided with another, stabled in the siding. Two carriages and the van
were much splintered and derailed, and had to be switched off. This
mishap delayed us about two hours.

We arrived at De Aar at midday on Saturday; here I tipped my guard to get
me some lunch. Leaving De Aar we passed through the great Karoo desert,
where for hundreds of miles, as far as the eye could reach, was the same
monotonous view of bare kopje and barren veldt; the only vestige of
herbage is the stunted karoo bush.

I passed through Matjesfontein, the model village of South Africa, the
property of the Hon. J. D. Logan, who later figured prominently in the
efforts that brought about my release. On reaching Capetown I was taken
to the Castle Military Prison; there I met Major Lenehan, who was
detained waiting embarkation for Australia. I informed him of the fate of
his two officers, of which he was not aware. Lieutenant Picton was
detained at the Castle, but not under the same restraint, he being
permitted to go outside under escort. I sent for Mr. Rail, the Government
agent for Australian troops, and inquired if he had received my telegram
from Pretoria; he said that he had not, nor had he received any news
whatever regarding the affair. Upon acquainting him with the facts, he
advised me to write out a statement of the case, which he would forward
to the Victorian Government. He kept his promise; I know it was sent, and
received by Sir Alexander Peacock, then Premier of Victoria.

The military authorities suppressed all knowledge of the findings of the
court. While at Capetown I wrote several letters giving a brief account
of the facts; I also sent another cable on the 8th March, which I paid
for at ordinary rates, but all were suppressed. No knowledge of my fate
reached my relatives, nor did any news regarding the affair reach
Australia until Major Lenehan arrived in Melbourne on 25th March, a month
after I had been sentenced. I was detained at the Castle some days,
during which time I was kept under strict surveillance; on two occasions
only was I allowed to be visited by friends from outside. Captain
Baudinet, a brother officer, was refused permission to see me by the
Provost Marshal and the headquarters authorities.

On the morning of 9th March I was taken on board the "Canada," lying at
the South Arm Docks; two military police accompanied me, one of whom said
to the regimental police sergeant, when handing me over, "Keep your eye
on Witton; he'll try to escape if he gets a chance." I had not thought of
doing any such thing; if I had wished to escape I could have done so long
before. Morant was offered time and again at Pietersburg the opportunity
of getting away; the best horses would be at his disposal outside the
lines, and everything ready any time he wanted to go, but he would not
take advantage of it. We all preferred to see it through.

I was placed in a small cabin in the guard-room, presumably for extra
security; this proved to be a blessing in disguise. Before the boat
sailed the guard-room was filled with drunken and rowdy troops. The first
few days I fared rather badly, as I had to trust to the courtesy of the
prisoners there to serve up my meals; I was more often forgotten than
not. On the third day I asked to see the officer commanding the troops on
board; he came to see me during the daily inspection. I told him how I
was situated, and asked permission to have my meals sent from the saloon.
This was granted, and I was allowed to make my own arrangements with the
cook.

Lieutenant Picton, who was on board under no restraint, arranged
everything satisfactorily. Afterwards, by making a chum of the police
sergeant, I was provided with a servant for the rest of the voyage, and
in the company of the sergeant I spent most of my time during the day on
deck; I never then went short of anything that money could buy. I
received the sympathy of all on board.

One day, while promenading on the deck, I was pointed out to a well-known
British General, who was sitting on the bridge deck. "There's young
Witton," a bystander remarked. "I know him, I know him; it's a d--shame;
pity there isn't more like him in South Africa," burst out the General.
There were over two thousand troops on board, and my situation was much
discussed and commented upon. It was proposed to get up a petition there
and then praying for a remission of my sentence, but I thought it quite
unnecessary, as the Australian Government would be in receipt of all
particulars of my case, and an investigation would probably be demanded
before I reached England. I did not expect to be long a prisoner; in two
months' time there would be the Coronation, and this I expected would
bring liberty to all military prisoners.

My voyage to England, in spite of this, was not an enjoyable one. I was
being taken away from my homeland into unmerited exile, a stranger in a
strange land, branded as a criminal; these thoughts brought with them
extreme mental pain and anxiety. After coaling at Las Palmas, during
which time I was kept confined in my cabin, the "Canada" proceeded on her
journey, and reached Queenstown on Easter Sunday. Here I got a glimpse of
the Emerald Isle; being springtime, it did not belie its name. Queenstown
has a magnificent harbour, far superior to anything I had then seen. The
Irish troops who were on board, principally Cork militia, were
disembarked. While in port I was handed an Irish newspaper, a pro-Boer
journal, in which was published a long article headed "A Sad Tale from
the Veldt." Its infamous statements were obviously the efforts of a
malign imagination, as false as they were sensational, yet a recital of
these was allowed to be published broadcast.

Lieutenant Picton, on his arrival in England, flatly contradicted these
vile assertions, but it was an impossible task to suppress them when
pitted against the ghoulish journalism of the world. South Africa was
under martial law, and those who protested there became marked men, and
ran a risk of being imprisoned on some trumped-up charge. Others,
suspected of a desire to make disclosures, were silenced by a promise of
an important post under the new administration. Such promises, although
unofficial, had a good effect in the policy of suppression.

After leaving Queenstown the "Canada" headed for Southampton. I remained
on deck until dark, hoping to see Morant's longwished-for beacon, "the
Ushant light on the starboard bow," but the night was very foggy and the
light was not in evidence. Passing up the Solent, past the Needles and
close to the Isle of Wight, in Southampton Waters, we arrived at our
destination about midday on 2nd April. Labels similar to those used by
tradesmen when sending out goods were issued to us, inscribed with our
number, name, and regiment, and we were instructed to attach them to our
dress. It seemed a ridiculous farce for a man to have to label himself,
but the motive in this case was, I was told, to assist the police in
identifying and forwarding drunken Tommies to their destination. I still
have my label in my possession.

During the afternoon, when the troops had all disembarked, an escort of
marines came on board to take charge of the prisoners. I was again
handcuffed, on this occasion with a young Imperial lieutenant, who
emerged from among the Tommies in the guard-room.

We then entrained for Gosport. After leaving the train we travelled the
last stage to the Gosport Military Prison in a waggonette. When the
vehicle pulled up at the outer gate and set us down to await admission, I
indulged in a few last whiffs of a cigarette. Whilst doing so I took a
survey of the prison building, with its forbidding walls and long rows of
small barred windows, and felt awed and chilled by the gloomy and silent
air of the place--a foretaste of the life I was about to enter upon.

At last the wicket-gate was opened, and we filed through into a small
courtyard; here the irons were removed from our aching wrists; then,
passing through more gates and stout doors, we entered the main hall,
where strict silence had to be observed. We were here called up one by
one before the Chief Warder.

While waiting I looked around me. There was a long corridor with three
terraces of cells on either side, fronted with polished iron rails, a
corkscrew staircase from the ground mounting to the heights above, and
door after door passing into dim perspective.

When my turn came to go up, I was asked my rank, regiment, crime, and
sentence, and was then told to hand over all personal property in my
possession. Among the things I handed over were a dozen packets of
cigarettes, which had been given to me by an officer on the "Canada." I
was then taken to a bathroom, and after a good hot bath, a complete
outfit of clothes of navy blue serge and other kit were given to me; I
was then sent to cell No. 36 on the top landing. I walked into the cell,
which appeared to be about 7 feet wide by about 13 feet long by 10 feet
high, with a vaulted brick ceiling. In the cell was a small wooden table,
a wooden stool, a bed board, three small mattresses of the biscuit
pattern, a hard pillow, three army blankets, and a number of tin
utensils.

I sat down on the stool and began taking a note of my surroundings. This,
then, was to be my home for an indefinite period. I determined to try and
make the best of everything, and settle down to the routine of prison
life. My musings were suddenly disturbed by the gruff voice of a huge
warder demanding why I did not close my door; I replied that I did not
know it was my duty to close it, I had not been told to do so. After a
long reprimand, I was given strict injunctions always to close my door
when entering or leaving my cell.

Shortly after there was a rattle of tin cans outside, and a key in my
door, which was thrown open. Supper was being served; I was handed a pint
of oatmeal gruel and six ounces of dry white bread. This was my first
meal in an English prison, and it was anything but gratifying.

When supper was finished the library warder came to me with a bundle of
books, from which I chose Dickens' "Little Dorrit." Its tale of the old
Marshalsea prison life interested me greatly. I read until locking-up
time, which at Gosport was a quarter to eight. I was told that I must be
in bed by eight o'clock, when the lights would be turned out. Though very
tired, even in this abode of silence I could not sleep; I lay for hours
thinking. They were the heaviest hours it was ever my lot to know; they
were as weary as they were bitter. My hopes of a military career were
irretrievably lost, my life blighted; I had been proclaimed to the world
a felon, immured for a lifetime, and all brought about by the observance
of the first duty of a soldier, "obedience to orders."

At midnight I became oblivious of everything, and was only awakened by
the clang of the bell at half-past five. After washing, dressing, and
arranging my bedding, my door was again flung open, and a warder and
orderly came in with a bundle of short pieces of hard tarred rope. "I
have brought you some work," said the warder. "Do you know how to pick
oakum?" "I do not," I replied. "Very well, you will learn now." The
orderly was then requested to instruct me in the art. Taking a strand of
the rope, he rubbed it backwards and forwards on his knee, then taking it
between his forefinger and thumb he frayed it into a woolly mass. He
whispered to me, "These 'ere 'ard bits," showing a short length of hard
dry rope, "yer want to 'ammer on the floor, but don't do it when there's
anybody about, as 'e'll 'ear yer." I returned him my grateful thanks for
his "tip," and promised to try it. I was then left with several pounds of
rope, which was to be my task for the day.

Prior to my imprisonment my ideas of a convict's life centred round bread
and water and picking oakum; they were almost realised. Sitting down, I
commenced to unravel the awful stuff, but no matter how I tried I could
not get it anything near as fine as the sample; to make matters worse, my
fingers being tender, the tar commenced to burn them. For about an hour I
worked steadily, until my shoulders ached and my fingers were almost raw.

Then came breakfast, my second prison meal, which consisted of the same
amount of dry bread as for supper; three-quarters of a pint of cocoa was
served in place of the gruel. By this time I felt hungry, and ate my loaf
and drank my cocoa with eagerness. Then came again the banging and
slamming of doors, the rattle of keys, and my own door was flung open.
"Exercise. Close your door," shouted the warder. Leaving my cell, I
hastened to the ground floor, where we fell-in in double file in the
centre of the hall. When all were down we were called to "Attention,"
"Open order," "March." During this parade the Chief Warder made a daily
inspection to see that every man had his uniform carefully brushed and
his boots polished.

In single file we were marched out into the yard, and forming a circle
walked round and round for an hour. Exercise over, I returned to my cell
for a few minutes, then more unlocking and banging of doors, as the
warder shouted "Prayers." I was then conducted to the chapel, where
"divine service" was held--at least, that was what they called it. On
week days it was usually conducted by a warder in a most perfunctory
manner; the way the prayers were gabbled over, to my mind, bordered on
profanity. While prayers were being said and the Litany intoned I have
seen tobacco passed round from one to another, and one morning I heard
the following conversation:--"Say, jock, how is it you are back so soon?
What happened this time?" "I got drunk, and was run in, and broke out of
barracks and punched the provost-sergeant," replied Jock.

Much the same methods prevailed in the other prisons where I was
confined, excepting that the services were usually conducted by a
chaplain. It is absolutely wrong to force prisoners to attend daily such
a burlesque; that is, if these services are held with a view to softening
the hearts of the wicked ones, and giving them an idea of living a better
life. It affects them in two ways only--nine-tenths of them get hardened
beyond any hope of redemption, the other tenth get softening of the brain
or religious mania. Two good services held on Sunday in a reverent manner
would be quite enough, and would have a good effect at least on the
majority. It does not do any good to continually sing hymns like the
following:--

"Have mercy, Lord, on me,
As Thou wert ever kind,
Let me, opprest with loads of guilt,
Thy wonted mercy find.

"Wash off my foul offence,
And cleanse me from my sin,
For I confess my crime, and see
How great my guilt has been."

The work of a prison chaplain is an extremely difficult one; besides
being a thorough Christian, he requires to have a kind heart and some
fellow feeling, also a large amount of tact and judgment, otherwise it
would be better for all concerned if he never approached a prisoner. It
is the duty of the chaplain of a convict prison to visit each prisoner
separately in his cell at least twice a year.

The following incidents came under my notice while I was in prison:--The
chaplain entered the cell of a young lad who had been in the navy, and
was serving a sentence for attempting to strike an officer. The greeting
the lad received from this man of God was, "Well, are you another of the
rape cases?" The prisoner, who was standing with his cap on, indignantly
replied that he was not, he was there for attempting to strike an officer
in the navy. "Take your cap off when you speak to me," haughtily replied
the chaplain. The prisoner removed his cap and threw it on the floor, and
requested that he should be left alone; if he wished to see a chaplain he
would make an application. "I can see you when I wish," said the
chaplain, as he banged the door. This chaplain had more prisoners
reported and punished than any prison officer.

Another chaplain at another prison, when going his round, entered a cell
and found the prisoner with his head buried in his arms, sobbing; on
returning from labour at dinner-time he had found a letter thrown on his
bed containing the news of the death of his wife. "Well, my man, what's
the matter with you?" asked the chaplain. When the prisoner had told him
his bad news, he replied, "Ah, that is a common occurrence here." After
delivering himself of that goodly measure of consolation he walked out.
The same chaplain visited the hospital one morning, and came to a
prisoner who had just been admitted after being examined by the medical
officer. "What is the matter with you?" asked the chaplain. "I have
neuralgia," answered the prisoner. "Very painful thing, very painful
thing--that is, if you have got it," remarked the chaplain.

There are exceptions, of course, and it is possible sometimes to meet a
sympathetic minister in the prisons, but if he followed after those I
have mentioned above, his task of reform would be almost a hopeless one.

An avenue for the abuse of sacred rites is the administration of Holy
Communion. I have seen some of the most depraved specimens of humanity,
men without any sense of morality or probity, accept the Sacrament,
thinking by doing so to gain favour in the eyes of the prison authorities
through the chaplain. Others will partake of it merely for the sup of
wine. I know of one man who was advised to go to Communion; when he
returned he said, "I have been to Communion; it was tip-top wine, too,
but I couldn't get enough of it."

Prayers over, I went back to my cell and made a fresh start on the oakum.
I had just settled down to this monotonous occupation when I heard
another rattle of keys at my door, and the prison regimental
sergeant-major came in. After a few cheery remarks, he asked me what work
I had been put to. I told him. "I'll find you something more suitable
than that," he said; "you can do some bookbinding, and write out a few
lists for me; if there is anything you want, ask for it." "How often can
I have a bath?" I asked. "You can have a hot one every morning; just ask
your warder to send you down; if you don't get it, let me know," he
replied. Without regarding the relative positions we occupied I thanked
him for his kindness, and, as he was leaving, he told me the Governor
wished to see me at dinner-time. That visit was like a ray of sunshine in
my abode of gloom, and was productive of much that made the remainder of
my stay at Gosport bearable.

Dinner was served at 12 o'clock. It consisted of a pint of soup,
three-quarters of a pound of potatoes, and four ounces of bread. I had
just finished my dinner when I heard someone shout out, "Send Witton
down." My door was opened, and a warder told me I was wanted below. I
went down, and was ushered into the Governor's office. The Governor
appeared to be interested in my case, probably on account of what had
been recently published; he asked me to tell him briefly how I came to be
in my present position. I explained as briefly as I could how Captain
Hunt met his death, and the unfortunate ending of Lieutenant Morant's
command, and the part I had taken in it. "It was a case of retaliation,
then," he observed.

After that interview I was treated with marked deference by the prison
staff, and was allowed another hour's walking exercise during the
afternoon. No restrictions regarding writing or receiving letters were
enforced; my work now was merely an employment to kill time, and
consisted of patching up old library books and writing out lists and
forms. Sometimes, when my afternoon exercise was due, and it happened to
be raining, I would be put on to cut up old rope into short lengths; the
hardest and dry pieces I would cut extra short, hoping that in doing so I
would be serving some other unfortunate a good turn. I remained at
Gosport Military Prison from the 2nd to the 26th April.

I was then transferred to Lewes, the Sussex County Civil Prison. On the
morning of my departure from Gosport my khaki uinform was returned to me,
and I was taken to Lewes in the same dress as that in which I arrived
from South Africa.



CHAPTER XXII.

GAOL DISCIPLINE AND PRISON BLUNDERS.

The transfer from prison to prison is a most trying experience; manacled
and chained, one is subject to the prying looks and embarrassing remarks
of inquisitive spectators. My journey to Lewes was uneventful. I and a
young private were escorted by a colour-sergeant and two men; they were
jolly fellows, and had not been to South Africa. They could not
understand how a man could be sentenced to life imprisonment for shooting
Dutchmen. "Wasn't that what you went there for?" they asked; "it's
terrible hard luck. Do you smoke, sir? These," handing me a packet of
cigarettes, "are only common fags, but I'll get some better ones at the
railway station." My sympathetic escort was true to his word, and when we
entrained at Portsmouth Station he produced a packet of savoury
"Egyptians."

We reached Brighton just as the London express arrived; its palatial cars
and appearance of wealth and ease contrasted deeply with our war-worn
uniforms and irons, and the gloomy destiny before us. We arrived at Lewes
an hour earlier than we were expected, consequently, and luckily, there
was no prison van to meet us. Hurrying off the platform, our escort
requisitioned a "cabby," who drove us to the prison gate.

All main entrances are the same, and all prisoners are on an equality.
First the massive outer gate is passed through into a gloomy, tunnel-like
passage, with another and inner gate at the end, then across a portion of
the prison yard to the reception cells. Here my committal warrant was
carefully examined; the irons were then removed, and again a full
description was taken, including my height and weight. I was then taken
to the clothing department, and here I donned the degrading garb of the
convict--a drab jacket and cap, and knee breeches, grey stockings, and
leather shoes, freely stamped with the broad arrow. I was then taken to
the main hall and placed in cell No. 35, which was similar to the one I
had left at Gosport. I was here given a cloth badge, which buttoned on my
left breast, and upon which was stamped A4/35, signifying the place and
number of my location.

My dinner was then served, consisting of a small piece of boiled bacon
and a quantity of haricot beans. In another small tin, which fitted into
the one containing the beans and bacon, were a few black-looking
potatoes, boiled in their jackets; on the top of these was a hard loaf of
heavy brown bread. The only piece of cutlery was a wooden spoon. The meal
did not present by any means a tempting appearance; the quantity was
greater, but the quality was worse than the dietary at Gosport.

Dinner over, the schoolmaster' paid me a visit. After questioning me as
to my religion, and tastes in regard to reading matter, he left me, and
returned shortly after with a pile of books. Those I had asked for were
not included, but he had brought a magazine, several educational works,
and a slate. The titles and numbers of the books were entered on a
library card which I kept in my cell.

Later on the chaplain came in; he was one of the exceptions in chaplains,
and we had a long conversation. He expressed great astonishment at the
severity of my sentence, and urged me not to worry too much about the
future. He was my best friend during his short stay at Lewes; he visited
me almost daily, and these visits were the only bright spots in that land
of gloom and silence.

The outlook at Lewes was very far from cheering. I was put to picking
oakum again, and was herded with the old offenders, or "old lags," as
they are termed in the prisons. Being a first offender, I should have
been placed in what is called the "star class," but I had first to
furnish the Governor with the names of two persons who could vouch for my
previous good character. As I knew no one in England sufficiently for the
purpose, it was necessary to write to Australia, and three months elapsed
before I was admitted to the "star class."

On the first morning after my arrival at Lewes, the crowning indignity of
the prison service was enforced upon me. I had to submit to the
operations of the barber. My hair was closely cropped all over with a
pair of fine hair-clippers, and my face cleanly shaven; parting with my
moustache seemed like parting with an old friend.

A copy of the rules and regulations of the prison service, to which a
prisoner has to conform, is furnished to each, and is neatly printed on
cardboard and kept in a small portfolio in the cell. These rules are so
numerous and so lengthy that it is impossible to give them verbatim. The
following is a short abstract:--

A prisoner shall at all times preserve unbroken silence.

He shall not communicate in any way with another prisoner except with the
permission of one of the authorities.

He shall use no obscene language nor be guilty of any indecent act or
gesture.

While in his cell or place of location he shall not make any unnecessary
noise by singing, shouting, or whistling.

He shall not leave his cell or other place of location without
permission.

He shall keep his cell and all prison property in his possession neat and
clean.

He shall not have in his possession anything he ought not to have.

For mutiny or inciting to mutiny or personal violence on any officer or
servant of the prison a prisoner will be liable to corporal punishment.

Should a prisoner have any complaint to make regarding his food, he must
complain immediately it is issued to him. Repeated frivolous or unfounded
complaints will be treated as breaches of prison discipline, and punished
accordingly.

A prisoner must attend Divine service unless excused by the prison
authorities.

No prisoner shall be compelled to worship in the form contrary to his
religious convictions. In the case of Nonconformists a minister of the
persuasion of the prisoner shall from time to time be permitted to visit
him.

A prisoner should behave with reverence at Divine service.

He shall be employed on steady hard labour for a period of not less than
ten hours per day, exclusive of the time allotted for meals.

A prisoner shall be permitted the use of a suitable library, educational
and devotional books; if necessary, school instruction shall be
administered.

He must conform to the rules of the prison regarding hair-cutting and
bathing, as may be deemed expedient to health and cleanliness.

He may be allowed to interview the Governor to lodge complaints or make
requests.

He may also be permitted to interview a director, inspector, or member of
the board of visiting magistrates, or the board of magistrates, or any
representative of the Home Office who may from time to time visit the
prison. He may also be allowed to petition the Secretary of State.

Rules under the classification and remission system provide that:--

A prisoner's sentence shall be a question of marks, at the rate of six
marks a day. He may, however, earn seven or eight marks a day, according
to his industry and good conduct.

He shall be allotted marks according to the degrees of industry, seven
marks for a fair, but moderate day's work, eight marks for a day's steady
hard labour and the full performance of his allotted task.

A prisoner can thus by good conduct shorten his sentence by one-fourth.

A prisoner under sentence for penal servitude for life must not expect
his release until he has completed twenty years' imprisonment, nor will
any number of marks be taken to represent his sentence. However, his marks
earned will be recorded, and in due time considered by the Secretary of
State.

A prisoner for ill-conduct or any breach of prison regulations may
forfeit any number of marks or the whole of his remission.

A prisoner having earned the number of marks representing his sentence
will be released on license for the remainder.

His period of incarceration will be divided into stages (or classes). In
the first, or probationary, stage, he must pass one year or until he has
earned 2920 marks. During the first six monhts of his sentence, or until
he has earned 1460 marks, he will be kept in separate confinement and be
employed not less than ten hours per day, exclusive of time allotted for
meals. He may be permitted to write or receive a letter during the first
week of his sentence, and for every 960 marks earned in this stage he
will be accorded the privilege to write and receive one letter and
receive a visit of twenty minutes duration, or write and receive a letter
in lieu of a visit by not more than three friends or relatives. When he
has earned 1460 marks in this stage he will be eligible to be transferred
to a public works or convict prison.

During the second stage he will be allowed the same privilege regarding
writing and receiving letters and visits. He is to receive a gratuity of
one shilling for every 240 marks earned in this stage, and will be
distinguished by a narrow black cloth band on his sleeve, at the wrist
and on the collar.

In the third stage he is permitted to write and receive a letter and
receive a visit for every 720 marks earned, with the option of 2 oz.
additional bread, 1/2oz. margarine in place of porridge, and a half-hour
additional exercise on Sundays. He is distinguished in this stage by
yellow facings, and he may earn a gratuity of one shilling and sixpence
for every 240 marks, but not more than eighteen shillings while in this
stage.

In the fourth stage he is permitted to write and receive a letter and a
visit of thirty minutes' duration for every 480 marks earned, and to
receive a gratuity of 2s. 6d. for every 240 marks, but not to exceed
thirty shillings. He is distinguished by blue facings, and may be
permitted to converse with a companion, selected by the Governor, during
exercise on Sunday afternoon. In this stage a prisoner remains until the
last year of his sentence. By continuous good conduct he is then eligible
for the special class, the highest class of prisoners; its privileges are
a blue uniform, a letter and visit every month, and the preference of any
so-called privileged posts, such as infirmary or schoolmaster's orderly,
also an extra gratuity of £3 should he join a prison aid society. He may
be recommended for an extra remission not exceeding one week.

A prisoner serving a sentence of seven years or over can earn £6; he can
earn no more if he undergoes a life sentence. This money is paid to him
by the police under whose surveillance he is while on license or
ticket-of-leave.

The greatest of all privileges is the red collar, usually given to a
special class prisoner (very rarely to one in any other stage) when
employed on any special work, such as painting or charging the furnace at
the foundry. Then he is allowed to go about the prison unaccompanied by a
warder. Greater trust is placed in these men, as they have so much to
lose, and a breach of confidence is not so likely to occur.

I had now commenced on the probationary stages of my sentence and for
three long, heart-breaking, soul-killing days I picked oakum. The
master-tailor then came to my cell, and I asked for other work. "I do not
care how laborious it might be," I told him, "I will do anything but pick
oakum." "Can you sew?" he inquired. "Yes!" I eagerly replied, though the
art of needlework as far as I knew it was sewing on a button.

I was brought a pair of scissors, two needles, a thimble, and the pieces
of a prison jacket; after being shown how to place them together, I
commenced work. I put the thimble on the wrong finger, but
notwithstanding this, and the drawback of continually stitching my finger
to the material, I made very good progress, and was kept at this work
during my sojourn at Lewes.

The routine became more and more monotonous as time dragged slowly on. My
constitution was practically run down with the two years on active
service; then came the close confinement, the foul and fetid atmosphere,
and the disgusting sanitary arrangements. It is little wonder that I left
Lewes in broken health.

About a month after my arrival at Lewes I petitioned through the
Secretary of State to Lord Roberts, the Commander-in-Chief, stating my
case, and asking for a remission of the sentence. In course of time a
reply came, which was brought to me by the Governor. It was to the effect
that the Commander-in-Chief declined to make any remission of my
sentence. This was a great blow to me, and seemed almost brutal in its
significance. However, I hoped that the approaching Coronation would
bring relief.

Coronation day came at last, and instead of the long-looked-for freedom,
every prisoner was given a special treat, and made the recipient of the
King's bounty in the shape of a slice of plum pudding. I was then told by
a warder that the Coronation had been suddenly postponed owing to the
serious illness of His Majesty. I was also told that the war had
terminated, and peace had been declared, and that the Boer Generals were
visiting England as guests of the nation; also of the doings of the
Australian cricketers.

These items of news came like a ray of sunshine into my gloomy cell,
raised my spirits, and tended to make life bearable, though it was very
far from being worth living. Towards the end of June the necessary
references as to character were forthcoming, and I was now transferred to
the "star class," the division in which first offenders are kept apart
from ordinary prisoners, and distinguished by a red star on each arm
between the elbow and shoulder, and another on the front of the cap.

The "star" receives no privilege other than those granted to the old
offenders, and is subject to a more rigid discipline. This step brought
with it no change of work; I was still kept at the same sedentary labour
in my cell. I had expected much as the result of the change--a relaxation
of discipline, more humane treatment, better food, outdoor labour, and
other advantages; but I hoped in vain.

I found great pleasure in reading, and I read as I worked anything and
everything that was brought to me. At other times I would have put a lot
of it aside as "dry," which I now simply devoured. Carlyle's works and
essays fascinated me, causing me to forget my anxiety and troubles for
the time being. Towards the end of my "separate," as this part of a
prisoner's sentence is termed, I became morose and low-spirited. Nearly
six months had passed, and my release seemed as far off as ever. Changes
had taken place in the prison; a new Governor and chief warder had
superseded the old ones, so I interviewed the new Governor for permission
to petition again. My request was refused, and I was informed that, as I
was a court-martial prisoner, I could only petition at intervals of not
less than three months. This I considered hard and unfair, as it actually
meant that I was not entitled to the same privileges as ordinary
offenders.

I was determined not to let the matter rest. I interviewed every Home
Office official that visited the prison--prison inspectors, directors,
and boards of visiting magistrates. To all I pleaded to be allowed to
petition direct to His Majesty the King, but I was informed that such a
procedure was impossible, that the Home Secretary was the highest power
on earth a prisoner could appeal to. I must wait a little longer, and
petition again.

One day, about the end of July, just at the time when I was hopefully
expecting to hear something regarding my release, two warders came to my
cell, and threw open my door. One of them requested me in a cheery kind
of way to bring out my clothes and bedding. What could it mean? Had my
release come at last? Gathering up the things, I carried them out on to
the landing, where they were carefully examined. I then had to gather
them up and take them back to the cell again; here everything had been
overhauled and thrown about. I was next requested to take off what I was
wearing; these things also were carefully examined, and handed back to
me. "That will do, get into them again," said the warder, as he walked
out and closed the door. To my dismay, I found this was my first
experience of the system of searching, or "having the bailiffs in," as it
was called in the prison.

About the middle of August my hopes were again raised, and as suddenly
shattered. On this occasion the Governor sent for me; I was required at
his office. On entering, I noticed two footmarks painted on the floor in
front of his desk, and pointing in the prescribed military angle of 45
degrees. These I was requested to stand upon, and was then asked by the
Governor to give my register number and name. "Your six months' separate
confinement is completed on Monday next," he said, "and you will be
transferred to Portland Convict Prison." Then he added: "There are a
number of letters for you accumulated here, which you are not entitled by
prison regulations to receive. What am I to do with them?" No mention of
freedom, and, what I prized next, my letters were denied me. "Do with
them?" I said. "Considering they are letters from Australia, most of them
written before I was convicted, and forwarded from South Africa, can you
not do the same as your predecessor? Let me read them and return them to
you to be destroyed." I urged and entreated to be allowed to receive
them; I had had no news from the homeland for over two months; but no,
the new Governor was inexorable; I must abide by the rules of the prison.
So, after requesting that the letters be sent with my clothes to my
friends, I went back to my cell more depressed than ever. The following
day I was photographed for future identification, front and profile being
taken. On Monday morning I and three other prisoners were manacled and
chained together; two warders took charge of us, and in the prison brake
we were taken to the station and entrained for Portland. I had heard
glowing accounts of the prison there; it was the next best place to
Parkhurst, the convalescent station in the Isle of Wight. The discipline
was less stringent, there was better food and more of it, and mostly
outdoor labour. Our escort officers were fairly lenient and good fellows.
Portland was reached about six o'clock in the evening.

Arriving at the prison we were admitted and the irons removed. We were
taken to the reception cells, where we changed our clothes. Supper was
then served, a pint of fatty cocoa and a 12-Oz. loaf of coarse brown
bread; then to bed. I slept very little during the night, and was awake
when the bell rang out at 5.30 in the morning. For breakfast the liquid
refreshment was alleged tea, a black, vile-looking concoction, sweetened
with molasses, which robbed it of any flavour it may have possessed, and
a 10-oz. loaf.

A warder then came and conducted me to the bathroom, afterwards to the
tailor's shop, where I was fitted with new clothes. The shoemaker was
then visited, and I was provided with a pair of heavy iron-shod boots for
outdoor wear, and a pair of light shoes for Sunday. Afterwards came the
visit to the medical officer at the infirmary, where I was examined,
sounded, and weighed. It was now almost dinner time, the bell had rung,
and parties of prisoners were being marched on to the parade ground from
all directions. I was hurried back to the reception cells and taken
before the Governor, Major Briscoe, who spoke kindly to me, and gave me a
few words of very sound advice.

Returning to my cell, I found my dinner waiting for me--a lump of fat,
tough "Dorset tup" mutton, with half a pint of the liquor it had been
boiled in, a few potatoes, and an 8-oz. loaf of bread. I had my dinner,
and waited, wondering what would be the next item on the programme. After
a little time I was again conducted below and stripped. A most minute
description was then made for future identification; every small scar and
mark was recorded. Having now got through all the preliminaries, I was
ready to be "located." During the evening I was taken to the "star" ward,
F North Hall. Here I was placed in a cell which would not make a decent
dog kennel; its dimensions were 3 ft. wide, 7 ft. long, 7 ft. high. A
small window of opaque glass beside the door admitted light from a gas
jet outside. A canvas hammock slung from end to end of the cell
monopolised more than half its space; a small drop table, 12 X 15 in.,
which hung from the wall, and a wooden stool, with the usual cell
utensils, completed the furniture. This, then, I mused, was my new home,
in which I was practically to pass my lifetime; the outlook was anything
but cheering. The chaplain came to see me, took down a few notes
regarding my case, and prevailed upon me to join the choir.

I slept badly that night, and in the morning my head ached; I had no
appetite; I just ate a little of the crust of my loaf. At seven o'clock
my door was thrown open; standing in the doorway and glancing along the
hail, I recognised many faces I had seen at Lewes, also my three
companions of the trip down. We then fell in, in double file, and marched
to chapel for morning prayers, for which about fifteen minutes was
allowed. The General Confession or the Litany was intoned on these
occasions. After chapel we were marched back to the parade ground, and as
I had not yet been posted to any party, I was called out by the principal
warder and afterwards conducted to No. 3 party, where I was engaged in
tinsmithing and foundry work.

The pronounced opinion of the general public is, I believe, in favour of
reforming the present English prison system. Thinkers who do not
especially class themselves as philanthropists affirm the necessity of
classifying prisoners so as to conserve any good that remains part of a
man's character at the time of his committal to prison.

The object of imprisonment is so to punish a criminal that the punishment
will act as a deterrent on him in the future, and check others who might
be disposed to menace society.

From observations made while in prison I am of the opinion that many of
the present methods of dealing with prisoners are calculated to increase
crime, rather than to repress it.

Criminals should be divided into three classes--Habitual, Ordinary, and
First Offenders. Each class should be kept apart, but this cannot be
accomplished by confinement in one common prison. In England those
belonging to the first offenders, or "star class," are placed in the same
prison as the old offenders, but are not supposed to come in contact with
them. Yet they work together in the same yard, though in different
parties, and at times prisoners move about indiscriminately, and talk to
each other. Warders differ much in disposition, and some, less strict
than others, allow the contact that the arrangements are designed to
prevent.

Less supervision would be needed if prisoners were graded and confined in
separate prisons.

On one occasion, with a party of the "star class," I was returning from
labour. Turning a corner, we came suddenly upon a party of "old lags"
working on a tram line. Our warder peremptorily ordered us to turn "right
about," in which position we still faced the remnant of another party of
a similar class. The warder, taking in the serious nature of the
situation, facetiously gave us the order, "Shut your eyes!" The
undesirables were then quickly mustered and hustled out of our way.

The treatment of first offenders is of the utmost importance. Great
discrimination should be used in dealing with men convicted for a first
offence; these should be systematically sorted and graded, and kept at
work in separate parties.

Among the first offenders, with whom I had the most experience, I was
brought in contact with some of the most depraved specimens of humanity
that could be found inside or outside of any prison. I also met men with
refined feelings and instincts, to whom a sentence of a few months would
be a more severe expiation than a long term to those before-mentioned.

If a man of previous good character be awarded a long term of
imprisonment, he should be allowed to serve the greater part of it on
license, under police surveillance, on recognisances of such a nature as
would act as a check on his predatory instincts, at the same time giving
him the opportunity of regaining his position as a useful and respectable
citizen.

Ordinary prisoners, or those serving a second or third sentence, while
kept in confinement should be allowed to earn a remission of a part of
their sentence by industry and good conduct; this would also be an
inducement for a rebellious prisoner to conform to prison discipline.

Habitual offenders, or those who make crime an occupation when at
liberty, should be kept confined on an indeterminate sentence in an
institution specially provided for them. The discipline should not be too
rigid; they should be kept at some kind of reproductive work, and in
return receive a small gratuity per month, which they might be allowed to
spend on any extras in food or whatever they wished for themselves. These
men should only be allowed at large when a tribunal that has based its
opinions on scientific principles is satisfied that the prisoner's
reformation is accomplished.

There are many classes of work on which prisoners could be employed, such
as making bricks and other building material, also smelting and moulding
iron, thus providing, the first essentials for an extension of a railway
system.

The labour of prisoners made use of in such reproductive work should be
supervised by artisan warders.

The "silent system," or the suppression of speech, is undoubtedly as a
punishment an unqualified success. Suppression of speech, together with
the gloomy surroundings, the petty and trivial annoyances to which
prisoners are subjected from officious warders, and the enforced daily
attendance at religious instruction, which usually terminates with a
dirge-like hymn, is the cause of many prisoners developing symptoms of
mental weakness.

A long sentence under the silent system is more inhuman than the brutal
treatment awarded to prisoners in early Australian convict days. Some
natures it will brutalise and train in crime; others it will wreck
physically and mentally. The result in the former case means a return to
crime and prison; in the latter a committal to an asylum or workhouse. In
either case the victims become a burden on their country for the
remainder of their days.

The "silent system" should be reserved and applied only as a punishment
to refractory prisoners.



CHAPTER XXIII.

THE PETITION FOR RELEASE.

When on parade, the men in a party were always placed according to their
height. I thus became a leading file, as I was the tallest man in the
prison, standing a trifle over 6 ft. 2 in. in my prison boots. After
taking my allotted place in the party, the process of searching was gone
through. I was ordered to unbutton my coat, vest, and breeches at the
knee, take my cap in my right hand, and my handkerchief in the left, and
hold them out at arms' length while an officer passed his hands over my
body. This search is carried out four times a day, on going out and
returning from labour. When the search is over, and the coast clear--that
is, when the old offenders are out of the way--the "stars" march out past
the saluting base, where stand the Governor and chief warder, whose duty
it is to take down the number of men in each party. The number returning
from labour must correspond with the number passed out to labour. The
cell is also searched every night before locking up.

Once a month a prisoner is subjected to what is known as a "dry bath."
The whole party is marched from the works to the bathroom, and one by one
put into an empty bath and subjected to a private bodily search. The
Portland workshops are situated about a quarter of a mile away from the
prison, and are fairly extensive, nearly one hundred men being employed
at tinsmithing and foundry work alone. I was now put on to learn
soldering tinware. I soon mastered this art sufficiently to do practical
work, and was engaged in making all the kinds of tinware used in the
prison service, and biscuit tins and oil bottles for the navy.

For two days I kept at this work among the acid fumes. My appetite had
now almost vanished; I hardly slept at all, and one of my boots had
crippled me; I kept up, however, thinking that my indisposition was the
result of the change of surroundings. On the third morning I felt very
ill and quite unfit for work; I then made an application to see the
doctor in the usual way, which necessitated waiting until the dinner hour
and parading with the "reporting sick." I went out to work, but as soon
as I started I felt dizzy and faint; I went to the warder in charge, and
asked to be allowed to rest a little. He, seeing that I was ill, ordered
me to be taken to the infirmary at once. I was escorted there by an
assistant-warder, and admitted.

I was greatly struck by the beautiful cleanliness of the hospital; as I
toiled up to the "star" ward, I noticed that the railings were polished
like burnished steel, the cells were roomy and scrupulously clean, and in
each were an iron bedstead, a table, and chair. The walls were painted a
pale green on white, the floors were carpeted with coir matting, the
passages with stout canvas, the whole building seemed as silent as the
grave. I had not long to wait before the medical officer came in. I
described my symptoms, and drew his attention to my foot. After examining
me, he remarked, "A touch of influenza." Turning to the warder-nurse, he
ordered me a dose of ether and ammonia, and a lead lotion dressing for my
foot. I was then ordered to bed, where I remained for eight days; by that
time my health appeared to have improved, and my foot was well again.

I was discharged from the hospital with a highly-prized concession--boots
to measure, without nails. I felt very weak when leaving, and could
scarcely walk; I was quite knocked up on reaching the hall, about 200
yards distant. I was again pigeon-holed in my 3 x 7 cell on the basement.
The following day being Sunday, I had another rest, with one hour's
exercise. The following week dragged on; I could neither eat nor sleep,
and my head ached as though it would split. Cramped up in my narrow cell,
in a hall in which were nearly 200 prisoners, with an atmosphere which
words fail to describe, I rapidly became seriously ill. I kept on with my
work until Friday, when I again applied to see the doctor. I went out as
usual with my party, and was working on zinc, using "live acid." The
fumes almost suffocated me; my head reeled, and for a time I became
oblivious of everything. On coming round, I shivered as though suffering
from ague; I was again hurried away to the hospital.

I thought I was suffering from malarial fever, and told the doctor so. I
believe I was treated for that complaint for nearly a week, but I
gradually became worse. My case puzzled both the hospital doctors; so one
day samples of my blood were taken and forwarded to the Institute of
Pathological Research for examination. A reply at once came back that the
case was typhoid fever.

I was then removed to the end of the ward, isolated and quarantined, and
screened off by two sets of carbolised sheets. My condition was
considered to be very critical; I was dieted on peptonised milk,
Valentine's meat juice, and a little brandy.

For nine long weeks I lay hovering over the fine line between life and
death; I was so weak I could not raise my hand. Just as the last feeble
spark of life seemed about to flicker out I rallied slightly, but did not
make any progress. I could not sleep, and opiates had no effect upon me.
The day warder-nurse who attended me told me afterwards that often, when
he went off duty at night, he never expected to see me alive in the
morning.

About 7 o'clock one morning I had my breakfast of milk, and do not
remember anything more; I must have dropped into sound sleep. When I
awoke the nurse was standing near. He said, "Oh! you are awake at last;
what time do you think it is ?" "About nine o'clock!" I replied. "Well,
it is five o'clock in the evening, and I have two pints of milk, a pint
of beef tea, and two lots of brandy waiting for you; which will you have
first ?"

From then I slowly improved. Though so close to death, it rarely, if
ever, troubled my head; thoughts of my freedom and return to Australia,
my native land, were always paramount.

One day, just after I had turned the corner, and was on the road towards
recovery, I received from my brother in Australia a copy of the opinion
of the Hon. Isaac Isaacs, K.C., and also a copy of the Australian
petition to His Majesty the King, which had been based on the opinion,
and which I was informed was being supported by tens of thousands of His
Majesty's subjects. It was a clear and truthful summary of my case. I
read and re-read it, and felt that my release was assured; such a
petition could not be long refused. The following is a copy:--

AUSTRALIA.
The humble petition of the undersigned, your Majesty's most loyal subjects,
Sheweth:--

1. Prior to May, 1900, George Ramsdale Witton was a gunner of the Royal
Australian Artillery, in the service of the Crown in the Defence Forces
of the colony of Victoria, Australia. He was born on the 28th day of
June, 1874, and is now twenty-eight years of age.

2. On or about 1st May, 1900, the said Witton left Australia for South
Africa with the Imperial Australian Regiment, under Lieutenant-Colonel
Kelly, with the intention and purpose of serving in the military forces
of the Crown against the Boers.

3. After being some time in South Africa he offered his services as a
member of the Irregular Corps of the Bushveldt Carbineers, and was
accepted, receiving, in consequence of his previous knowledge and
practice of artillery, and notwithstanding his inexperience as an officer
up to that time, a commission as lieutenant in that corps. He joined the
corps on 13th July, 1901.

4. On 5th August, 1901, he joined the Spelonken detachment of the corps,
then under the command of Captain Hunt. Captain Hunt, however, with the
main body of the Spelonken detachment, when Lieutenant Witton arrived,
was some miles away engaging the enemy, and was killed on 7th August.
Lieutenant Witton never saw or had communication with Captain Hunt, but
was always under the immediate command of Lieutenant Morant, as superior
officer, and Lieutenants Handcock and Picton, all of whom were senior to
Lieutenant Witton.

5. Lieutenant Witton is at present a prisoner of the Crown at Lewes,
England, under sentence of penal servitude for life, by way of
commutation by the General Commanding Officer, Lord Kitchener, of a
sentence of death by court-martial, upon the trial of Lieutenant Witton
on two charges of murder of Boers.

6. No official copy of the proceedings is at present obtainable in
Australia, but reliable information has been collected from reports in
public newspapers, notably in the weekly edition of the "Times" for 18th
April, 1902, and from persons having actual knowledge of the events, and
from communications from Lieutenant Witton. From these sources the
following circumstances appear to be those connected with the two cases
in question.

7. The first charge was that of murdering a Boer named Visser. Visser was
captured wounded shortly after Captain Hunt's death. Lieutenants Morant,
Handcock, Picton, and Witton had a consultation with reference to Visser,
and after that Visser was summarily shot, without trial and without
charge. When captured he wore a soldier's khaki jacket or shirt, and was
in possession of a pair of Captain Hunt's trousers. Although found guilty
of the charge by the court-martial, your Majesty's petitioners humbly
urge that for the reasons following no guilt in respect thereof is
properly imputable to Lieutenant Witton.

8. He was the junior subaltern. He had so recently joined the corps and
the detachment that he could not have personal knowledge of the material
facts hereinafter mentioned. It was within a week of his joining the
detachment that Visser's case occurred. Lieutenants Morant and Handcock
had been for some time (over a month) under the direct control of Captain
Hunt, and, therefore, in a position to know exactly what orders he had
given and transmitted. The first witness for the prosecution--Sergeant S.
Robertson--admitted in cross-examination that Captain Hunt had given
direct orders that no prisoners were to be taken, and had also on one
occasion abused the witness for bringing in three prisoners without
orders. Lieutenant Morant deposed that not only had Captain Hunt given
these orders, but also that he had named his authority, Colonel Hamilton.
It is true that at the court-martial Colonel Hamilton proved that no such
orders had been issued, but that, as your Majesty's petitioners humbly
urge, could not be known to Lieutenant Witton at the time Visser was
shot. If Captain Hunt informed his subordinates that Colonel Hamilton had
given such orders, and Captain Hunt directly required obedience to them,
it is humbly submitted that Lieutenant Witton had no course open to him
as a soldier but to obey. The order and the interpretation of that order
were not left in any doubt according to the statements of his superiors.
It is humbly further submitted that Lieutenant Witton would have much
exceeded his right, would have been insubordinate, and as an officer been
guilty of a serious dereliction of duty if he had ventured to demand from
his superior officer proof of the truth of his statement as to the issue
and meaning of the orders in question before yielding obedience, because
if justified in demanding such proof from Lieutenant Morant, such demand
might, as it seems to your Majesty's petitioners, be equally demanded
from every officer short of the General commanding.

Your Majesty's petitioners humbly submit there was no criminality in a
young and comparatively inexperienced lieutenant, with no previous
experience in the field, less than a month with his corps, less than a
week with his detachment, placing faith in and yielding obedience to the
distinct assurances and positive commands of two superior officers,
having vastly better means of knowledge, and with all the advantage and
power of rank and authority.

We also rest reliance on the circumstances of time and place, which seem
to be of the highest importance. At a great distance from still higher
authority, even had he been disposed to question the authenticity and
construction of his orders, immersed in services of continuous activity
and serious pressure, engaged with an enemy whose methods, in some
instances at least, as is well known, lent some colour to the likelihood
of such orders, and having no reason for disbelieving what he was told,
and led by a masterful mind and strong personal force, your Majesty's
petitioners beg your Majesty's most gracious consideration to the
difficult position of this young and inexperienced officer. Lieut. Colonel
Pratt, in his "Handbook on Military Law," at page 113, says:--"A
soldier, again, is bound to obey the lawful command of his superior
officer, and before a court-martial it would be held that a soldier was
bound to obey the command of his superior officer, if the illegality of
it was not on the face of it apparent." Clode's "Military and Martial
Law," at page 56, states that "The power and responsibility of the
superior officer, i.e., the senior officer of the highest rank present,
is always supreme."

No doubt can ever have existed, as your Majesty's petitioners believe,
that Captain Hunt had given the orders referred to. Civil-Surgeon Johnson
testified that he had heard Captain Hunt reprimand Lieutenant Morant for
bringing in prisoners; so did Captain Taylor. Collateral corroboration
that Captain Hunt believed that such orders were justified appears also
from the evidence in other cases as to the practice in other corps.

9. The second charge of which Lieutenant Witton was found guilty was
called the eight Boers case. He was indicted, along with Lieutenants
Morant and Handcock, with having murdered or instigated the murder of
eight prisoners. The facts were that about 20th August, 1901, an
intelligence officer named Ledeboer, in charge of a party, captured the
Boers and handed them over to a patrol. On 23rd August they were shot. So
far as Lieutenant Witton is concerned, he was present with others, but
did not take part in any decision regarding the fate of the men. One of
them rushed at him and seized hold of him, and then Lieutenant Witton
shot him, apparently to protect himself. He neither ordered nor
participated in the shooting of the other seven.

The prosecution proved that Lieutenant Morant again asserted his orders
as his justification, and also stated he had been congratulated by
headquarters over the last affair, and meant to go through with it.
Clearly, as your Majesty's petitioners submit, Lieutenant Morant took
command of the situation and exerted his authority.

The defence of obedience to orders, and the view that Lieutenant Witton
honestly and reasonably believed in the existence of lawful orders, were,
as your Majesty's petitioners believe, materially corroborated and
supported by evidence in other cases before the same court-martial, that
other corps believed the same thing and acted accordingly. Lieutenant
Hannam stated that when he was a trooper in the Queensland Mounted
Infantry, on one occasion at Bronkhurst Spruit, in 1900, his squadron
took some prisoners and was reprimanded by Colonel Cradock for taking
them. Sergeant Walter Ashton deposed to Brabant's Horse receiving orders
to take no prisoners, in consequence of specific acts of treachery on the
part of the Boers. Your Majesty's petitioners humbly submit that such
reprimand and orders could have but one meaning, and that they afford
strong reason for not imputing criminal conduct to Lieutenant Witton.

10. Lieutenant Witton states, in a letter of 8th March, 1902, that
Sergeant-Major Clarke asked him to intercede with Lieutenant Morant on
behalf of the men (British) in favour of Visser, that he agreed with the
men that Visser should not be shot, and mentioned it to Lieutenant
Morant. Lieutenant Morant, he says, refused to grant his intercession,
telling Lieutenant Witton he was justified in what he was doing, and
saying that if the men made any fuss he would shoot the prisoner himself.

11. Your Majesty's petitioners, while believing that, under the
circumstances hereinbefore appearing, Lieutenant Witton ought not to have
been punished as a criminal, desire to place before your Majesty further
considerations which they humbly submit should move your Majesty's
clemency towards Lieutenant Witton.

12. These circumstances are as follows:--Early on the morning of 23rd
January, 1902, and while the court-martial was still in course of trying
the prisoners at Pietersburg, an attack on the town by Commandant Beyers
took place. So far as your Majesty's petitioners can learn, Lieutenant
Witton, then under arrest, but under no personal danger from the Boers,
was ordered and permitted to, and did, resume his arms, and until the
attack was happily repulsed stand ready if needed to do honourable and
perilous service in his country's and your Majesty's cause. Your
Majesty's petitioners, while acknowledging that by your Majesty's
regulations, such circumstances were not technically or necessarily an
answer to the charge, if the same were otherwise established, do
nevertheless most earnestly beg your Majesty to graciously regard them as
of sufficient weight to induce your Majesty to pardon Lieutenant Witton.

At one period of the history of the British Army such circumstances would
have been considered as almost equivalent to condonation. Clode, at page
103, states the general principle thus:--The discharge of duty involves
condonation, and quotes the Duke of Wellington as writing:--"The
performance of a duty of honour and trust after the knowledge of a
military offence committed ought to convey a pardon," and the author adds
that, according to the practice of the Duke of Wellington in the
Peninsula, it did so. That such was the practice of so distinguished a
commander at a period of our history noted for the rigour of military
discipline appears, we think, from a perusal among other sources of the
despatch of the Duke of Wellington of 11th April, 1813, and the general
order of His Grace dated 11th February, 1811.

13. Your Majesty's petitioners, without desiring to rest their prayer
upon any technical grounds, would humbly beseech your Majesty to consider
whether Lieutenant Witton has not suffered some disadvantage in not
having as one member at least of the court-martial an officer of an
irregular corps in accordance with the Rules of Procedure.

Reviewing the whole of Lieutenant Witton's unfortunate case, your
Majesty's petitioners venture humbly to express to your Majesty the
confident hope that your Majesty may perceive room and occasion for royal
clemency.

Now that peace has been happily re-established, now that our late foes
have been enrolled as our fellow-subjects, when even rebels have sought
leniency, and not in vain, we approach the Throne asking that your
Majesty may be graciously pleased to direct the liberation of the young
and inexperienced soldier who, at an anxious moment of our history,
ardently offered to his country the last gift of a brave and loyal
citizen, and who, if, contrary to the views of your Majesty's
petitioners, he erred at all, he erred, we venture most humbly and
earnestly to submit, not from wilfulness or design, but, according to the
great weight of testimony and probability, from a mistaken sense of duty
to obey the official commands of his superior officer.

Your petitioners therefore humbly pray that Your Most Gracious Majesty
may be pleased to take this matter into your most gracious consideration,
and pardon and direct and order the release of the said George R. Witton,
and your petitioners will in duty bound ever pray.



CHAPTER XXIV.

THE LONG SUSPENSE.

November and December passed over, and I was still confined to my bed. I
had received a cable message from my brother that the Australian petition
had closed with 100,000 signatures, and was now on its way to England; it
was the largest petition that had ever left Australia. I now began to
feel troubled that I would not be well enough to leave the prison when my
release came. I was allowed to receive letters more frequently, as the
rules are somewhat relaxed in regard to them when a prisoner is seriously
ill.

When the medical officer visited me on Christmas Day he said I was now
making good progress towards recovery, and if I kept on as I was going I
would be able to get up the following week. "But," he added, "you will be
convalescent for at least another three or four months, but that is
nothing, you know, when one is in prison." "Four months!" I exclaimed "I
hope to be home long before that." He seemed rather amused at my
impetuosity, and said that he could not promise me.

The New Year was ushered in with the usual accompaniments of an English
winter-fogs, drizzling rain, and bitter cold winds. Portland, too, is an
exceedingly bleak spot, where cold winds and rain seem more prevalent
than elsewhere.

On 3rd January I got up and dressed myself for the first time for nearly
five months, but was too weak to walk a step. As soon as I had regained
sufficient strength to move about, and there was no further fear of
contagion, I was removed to another cell. During my illness and
convalescence my door was never closed, a barred iron gate being used
instead; this was a merciful concession which made my gloomy surroundings
a little more cheerful, as I was able to see and hear a little of what
was going on around me. I was visited by numerous Home Office officials,
the Governor, and many others, also the medical director, with whom I had
a long conversation about Australia and Australian industries,
particularly the butter export industry and the use of boric acid as a
preservative.

I was also on two occasions visited by Captain Harris, a prison
inspector, a stout, thick-set man with a stern countenance and piercing
grey eyes; he was known and feared by officers and prisoners alike. He
had earned the reputation of being the strictest Governor the prison
service had ever known; a prisoner could rely upon getting from him all
he was entitled to, but a favour never.

During one of his rounds he visited the cell opposite mine, in which was
located an elderly man who had once held a responsible position in civil
life, but had fallen on evil days. Prison life had wrecked his nervous
system, and was undermining his health. "Well, what is the matter with
you?" said Captain Harris. "I--I--I--feel all broke up, sir," stammered
the old fellow. "All broke up, broke up, how broke up, what do you mean?"
said the inspector. "I'm all broke down, sir," was the abject reply of
the prisoner. There was no mistaking it, either; every day was a torture
to him. He eventually got his wish, and was transferred to Parkhurst.

One day the president of the Board of Visiting Magistrates came to see
me; he told me he was in communication with the war Office, and wished to
investigate my case, but I need not say anything to incriminate myself. I
told him that I had no desire to conceal or disguise any of the facts or
the events that had brought about my conviction; I had not acted with any
criminal intent towards those against whom I was fighting, but had merely
obeyed the orders of my superiors. I was daily expecting my release, and
after this visit I became more impatient.

Up to this time the medical officer had not allowed my hair or beard to
be cut, consequently I had five months' growth of hair on my head, and
had also, cultivated an "Uncle Sam" beard. One day it was decided to have
it trimmed with a pair of scissors, instead of the regulation prison
clip; the warder and orderly came along with a comb and an antiquated
pair of scissors, and set to work. The orderly cut and snipped until his
arms ached; the warder then took the scissors and did likewise. The
principal warder then came on the scene, took command of the situation
and the tools, and finished the contract. This was, I believe, the most
notable "hair-cut" in the history of the prison. After this ordeal I
returned to my cell. Time passed slowly; every day was much alike in this
land of gloom, I expected my release at any moment, and rapidly regained
health and strength, and put on weight accordingly. When I was discharged
from the infirmary I was heavier than I had ever been in my life before,
turning the scales at a very little short of sixteen stone.

One afternoon the warder, with several "old lags" as assistants, was
serving out the supper. One of the latter, a short, pugnacious-looking
little character, stopped opposite my cell. I was standing at the gate,
and I noticed this little fellow eyeing me very attentively from head to
foot. When the warder's back was turned, he sidled up to me and suddenly
whispered, "If I was as big as you I'd fight Sullivan" (referring to the
champion American pugilist). And he looked as if he really meant it.

When I was strong enough to walk about, and weather permitted, I was
allowed exercise in the fresh air for forty minutes every afternoon. What
a treat those intervals were, and how I drank in the sharp, bracing air
of the English springtime. For some time there was a lunatic in the cell
next to mine; he walked behind me as we circled round at exercise. My
nervous system had been greatly shaken, and it was not likely to be
improved by having a madman walking close to my heels, who talked
incessantly without sequence, and at times would break out into maniacal
laughter. I usually got over the difficulty by falling out on some
pretence or other-my shoestring required attention, perhaps. By some such
little stratagem I would get him in front of me. I was not sorry when,
after a determined attempt at suicide, he was transferred to Parkhurst.

After seven months in the infirmary my health was reestablished. As yet I
had received no intimation as to the result of the petition; persistent
efforts were still being made in Australia and South Africa to obtain my
release. Further petitions had been sent from Australia, supported by
members of the Federal and State Parliaments; resolutions had also been
passed in my favour by both Houses of Parliament in Natal and Cape
Colony; public meetings had been held throughout South Africa, and
letters and circulars had been distributed throughout the Empire.
Subscription lists had been opened to defray expenses, and a notable one
was returned to the Treasurer by a ship's officer who had collected from
the passengers. It included people from Nova Scotia, Ireland, Wales,
Norway, England, Denmark, Scotland, Belgium, Russia, France, Germany,
Palestine, and Japan. Innumerable petitions from public and private
bodies and individuals were sent to the Home authorities asking for my
release.

These were all referred to a War Office whose policy in Africa prevented
them from dealing in such a quality as justice. This action of the War
Office was greatly resented by the subjects of the Empire generally, and
caused strong comment by the press in Australia, South Africa, and
Canada.

About the middle of May I was discharged from the infirmary, and sent
back to my 3 x 7 cubicle. I had heard that there were a few large cells
in one of the wards, which had been formed by taking out a partition,
thus making two cells into one. I interviewed the medical officer, and
asked to be recommended for a larger cell. My request was granted; my
quarters were then a little more habitable; the cell, being the second
from the end of the hall, was better ventilated.

The next day I appeared on parade, to the great surprise of the majority
of my fellow prisoners. Vague rumours had been in circulation; some had
heard that I was dead, others that I had been released and had gone home.
I returned to my old party and made another start at tinsmithing; here I
became acquainted with the past life of some of my fellow-workmen. Most
of them belonged to the genteel ranks of criminals. There were
representatives of the medical fraternity, the Bar, the clergy, the
stage, the army, and the navy; bank managers, company promoters,
spiritualist mediums, and all sorts and conditions of men--all on an
equality, all swelling the revenue of John Bull by making tin cans.

When I had been at this work about a month I found that the confinement
of the workshop and the acid fumes were again impairing my health. I once
more interviewed the medical officer. On this occasion I requested
outdoor labour, and the following day I was transferred to 33 party,
stone dressing. This party worked in the stone yards near the quarries,
about three-quarters of a mile from the prison. I liked this work, and
made very good progress. After I had been about a week at it I was
complimented on the headway I had made in mastering the art of making
"headers and stretchers." The work was in no way laborious, and there was
the walk backwards and forwards twice a day; the opportunities of
indulging in conversation were also more numerous.

While working in the stone shed I had for companions an M.D. on one side,
and a well-known English champion prize-fighter on the other. One day I
saw the champion of the art of self-defence, whom I will call C-03, give
a little exhibition of his skill. There is a good deal of jealous spirit
shown even in a prison; C-03 accused a fellow-prisoner of backbiting him,
and watched for an opportunity to retaliate. The warder in charge just at
the time had his head buried in the tool-chest, taking stock of the spare
tools. C-03 made a dart like lightning, and with a blow nicely aimed at
the jaw felled his maligner to the ground. I was the only person who saw
it, and I went to the assistance of the fallen man, and tried to put him
on his feet; he was limp and speechless. When the warder's attention had
been attracted he inquired of me, "What is the matter with him?" "I
think he has had a stroke, sir," I replied. The M.D. was called; he
examined the man's pulse; he said it was throbbing and beating in a most
erratic manner; the case puzzled him. However, a little cold water soon
brought the man round. "What is the matter?" inquired the warder, "did
you faint?" "I must have, though it is the first time I ever fainted in
my life," was the reply. The sick man was eventually removed to the
infirmary, where he was treated for some time for neuralgia.

There was also in the party a great burly Irishman, a very strong and
powerful man, whose inclinations were strongly averse to any kind of
labour. By some means he softened the heart of the medical officer, and
was put on light labour, which consisted of breaking refuse stone into
fine road metal; this was done in a sitting position. He had for a
companion a little hunch-back cripple, whom out of fear he prevailed upon
to collect and wheel to him all the stone to be broken. But when his
burly companion monopolised all the smallest and soft pieces, and left
the larger and hard chunks for his "little mate," it was time to protest.
This the "little mate" did, and backed it up by dancing around the big
man with a shovel, breathing out threatenings and slaughter. This
necessitated the intervention of the warder, who read the "Riot Act" to
both of them.

There was also another little old man, who had passed his three score
years and ten, and was serving his first term of imprisonment. I saw him
in the infirmary, when I was struck by the huge boots he wore, which he
dragged along the ground as he walked. One day I got an opportunity to
speak to him; I asked him why he did not change his boots for a better
fit. The old fellow smiled, and replied that he got them like that on
purpose, so as to be able to pull them on and off without unlacing them.
His three years' term was nearing completion, so I asked him what he
intended to do when he was released. "Have a glass and a pipe first," he
readily replied. A glass of ale and a pipe of tobacco were evidently the
greatest solace the future held for him. This case appealed to me very
much; surely justice would not have been violated if his sentence had
been suspended after a short part of it had been served.

Time went on; I worked and waited, and summer was now well advanced. I
had fallen into the stereotyped routine of prison life, and had made up
my mind to be civil and silent, and cause as little trouble as possible
to those in authority over me. I could see that complaints or violence
could accomplish nothing in one's favour in the long run; if the warders
were interfered with they never lost a chance of getting their own back.
A prisoner who does his work to the best of his ability and obeys all
orders implicitly without comment, practically surrendering his
individuality to the Governor and his satellites, and having no opinion
of his own, is the best off.

I settled down to my work and did it tolerably well; I was often rewarded
with a cheery word from the Governor or his deputy. One day in August the
Deputy-Governor came to me while I was at work and said he was afraid he
had bad news for me. The first thought that rushed through my mind was a
family bereavement; it was my father, or perhaps my mother. He then
added, "The petition for your release has been refused." I was staggered
for a moment; this was indeed a heavy blow to me. I could not and would
not believe that the King had declined to release me. I knew full well
that the blocking of all progress to the efforts on my behalf was due to
the obstinacy of the War Office; my hopes, however, were not altogether
annihilated. I knew there was increased agitation throughout the Empire
on my behalf, so I toiled on, and hoped and waited through the winter,
which was a very severe one. Another Christmas and New Year's Day passed
away, the third I had spent within prison walls.

Shortly after this the War Office was reorganised and the Army Council
constituted. A slight turn in my favour then occurred, and in reply to a
petition which I sent to the Home Secretary I was informed that the
question of my release would be considered when I had completed a term of
three years' imprisonment. This concession lifted a great weight from my
mind. I did not let matters rest here; as soon as I had completed two
years and three months, and had earned the number of marks representing a
three years' sentence, I petitioned again for my release under the
existing Classification and Remission System. Failing this, I asked that
my term of imprisonment should date from the award of the sentence,
instead of from the confirmation of the sentence, which occurred a month
later. The latter request was granted, but I was informed that I must not
expect my release until I had actually completed three years'
imprisonment.

So to this fate I had for the time being to submit. I knew that at
Capetown a meeting had been held and a powerful organisation formed, and
strenuous efforts were being made for my immediate release. Messrs. W. B.
Melville, Herbert Easton, and R. Bruce-Hardy, did Trojan work. An
influential deputation waited on Sir Gordon Sprigg, the Cape Premier,
with the object of enlisting his sympathy. The following is a summary of
the proceedings, extracted from the South African press:--

A deputation of citizens waited upon the Premier, Sir Gordon Sprigg, with
the object of enlisting his sympathy on behalf of the movement to secure
the release of ex-Lieutenant Witton, of the Bushveldt Carbineers.
Lieutenant Witton, it will be remembered, was tried with others by a
court-martial in connection with certain military irregularities on the
high veldt. He was sentenced to death, which sentence was commuted to
imprisonment for life by Lord Kitchener. He is now a prisoner in an
English gaol. The deputation consisted of the following gentlemen:--The
Hon. J. H. Hofmeyr, and Messrs. J. W. Van Reenan, J. J. Michau, C. A.
MacBride, R. Bruce-Hardy, B.A., W. B. Melville, C. R. Juchau, F. W.
Wilson, G. W. Baudinet, Thomas Gibson, Drs. Forsyth and Crozier-Durham,
Dr. Petersen, M.L.C., D. Van Zyl, ex-M.L.A., and Messrs. Herbert, Easton
and D. McKey.

Mr. D. McKey, who introduced the deputation, said:-Sir, as a member of
the recently-formed Constitutional Club of this city, which includes
among its objects the maintenance of the glorious traditions of British
justice and fair play, I have the honour to be one of the conveners of
this deputation, which has been formed to ask you, as the Prime Minister
of this colony, to use your influence in such a manner as you may deem
best on behalf of our young fellowsubject, for some time known as
Lieutenant Witton, but who is at present undergoing sentence for life in
Portland Prison. When first approached upon this matter I was of opinion
that it was a case which called for mercy alone, but upon hearing the
statements of one of his fellow-officers, and that of others acquainted
with the entire facts, I have come to the conclusion that there has been
a grave miscarriage of justice in committing to prison for life one who I
have every reason to believe is an innocent man, and, therefore, as it is
justice alone that is sought, it is with that end in view that Mr. Easton
and myself called upon and asked you to receive us here to-day, and I
feel sure that our appeal for your assistance will not be made in vain.
In forming this deputation we have endeavoured to make it non-political
by inviting the leading representatives of both the Progressive and South
African party, to each of whom we have written, giving at least seven,
days' clear notice, and asking them to attend; and I therefore, hope,
that whatever may be the outcome of our efforts on behalf of this
unfortunate man, our motives will not be misconstrued, as our sole desire
is to obtain his honourable release.

I have not considered it necessary to go fully into the details of the
case, as there are others of this deputation who are in a position to,
place the matter more fully before you. I will therefore ask Mr. Herbert
Easton to address you, and I beg to thank you for the patient hearing
which you have given me.

Mr. Herbert Easton said:--Sir Gordon,--Our object in meeting you to-day
is to enlist your sympathy and secure your support towards a deep and
far-spread movement to obtain the release of ex-Lieutenant Witton on the
grounds of justice. We do not approach you to, ask mercy on his behalf,
for, regarding him as innocent, we think it a scandal that this young
officer is being detained in an English gaol.

The War Office is an administration that has lost the confidence of the
people, and public feeling on the Witton case has been intensified by the
tactics adopted by that discredited administrative board in resisting
the, efforts of Witton's advocates to bring the true history of the case
to light. The voluminous evidence taken at the courts-martial--on behalf
of the War Office--remains withheld, and all official information so far
published is that which has been subjected to the severest press
censorship. Little by little the true history of Witton's connection with
the B.V.C. has come out, and has made a profound impression on the
popular mind, which is now filled with anxiety for what we believe to be
the unjust fate of a British subject. (Hear, hear.) You, Sir Gordon, are
fully aware of the extraordinary excitement caused by the Dreyfus
case-how the military authorities of the great French Republic were so
wilfully misled as to the accusation against Dreyfus; that it was only
after the intemational-and particularly the British press roused such a
great wave of feeling by minor discoveries, that the French Government
suspected the verdict of the military court-martial, and was compelled to
have Dreyfus retried before a civil tribunal, which fully justified the
immense trouble and labour taken by the public in his cause. We here
to-day feel convinced that we are voicing the sentiments of millions in
saying that we believe a retrial of Witton before a civil tribunal will
reveal a second Dreyfus case.

We are oppressed with the belief that the promises made to, the
petitioners to have our statements and prayers brought directly under the
notice of His Majesty the King have not in England been carried out to
the spirit and the letter, as we, feel assured that, were it possible to
reach the ear of His Majesty with the whole evidence, there would be no
question that His Majesty would cause a retrial of Lieutenant Witton to
be instituted.

In conclusion, Mr. Easton read the following letters
Schoongezigt, Stellenbosch,
4th December, 1903.

Dear Sir,-I regret that a previous engagement to speak at the Paarl on
the Chinese importation question will prevent me from joining your
deputation. As a firm believer in the fullest possible measure of
amnesty, I think that it would be good policy to release Witton. I do not
wish to enter on the particulars of his crime, his trial, or his
sentence, but upon the broad grounds of policy; I think that you have
followed the right course in appealing to the Prime Minister of the
colony to use his good offices in laying the case before the Imperial
authorities, with whom the matter rests.

I am, dear Sir, yours faithfully,
JOHN X. MERRIMAN.

De la Rey, Gardens,
5th December, 1903.

My dear Mr. Easton, I regret very much that I cannot form one of the
deputation to interview the Prime Minister in connection with the Witton
case. I have to leave on Monday early for Pietersburg to address the
electors at several places in that district, where I am a candidate. I
hope you will be successful. I cannot see any reason for believing that
Sir Gordon Sprigg will not assist you in connection with your efforts re
the Witton case.

Yours truly,
C. Du P. CHIAPPINI.

"Ons Land," Kantoor, Kaapstad,
27th November, 1905.

Gentlemen,--I have the honour to acknowledge the receipt of your letter
of even date with reference to "the Witton case," inviting, me to join a
deputation which will wait upon the Prime Minister on Monday, 7th
December, and I beg to state that I have the greatest sympathy with the
object of the proposed deputation. I would consider it a privilege to be
able to do something towards its attainment. I find, however, that it
will be impossible for me to be present on that date, seeing that I have
already arranged for a public meeting (announced in "Ons Land" of
yesterday) at Vredenberg, Saldanha Bay, with my fellow-candidate, Mr. J.
A. Smuts, for Saturday, 5th December, and that I shall not reach Capetown
again before Tuesday evening, 8th December.

I sincerely regret that this previous engagement will prevent me from
joining you in the deputation, but I wish you all success, and I shall do
all in my power to assist you.

Believe me, gentlemen, to be, yours faithfully,
F. S. MALAN.

Mr. W. B. Melville, who was deputed to state the case for Witton, said:--

"We are grateful, Sir Gordon, for the opportunity you are affording us
to-day to lay before you, as the head of His Majesty's Government in this
free country, the case of Lieutenant Witton. Your readiness to receive
us, and to listen to what we have to say is courtesy and consideration
characteristic of you, and appreciated by us. It will be our aim to
represent to you to the best of our ability the broad circumstances and
salient features of the case as they bear on the innocence of Witton of
any act of barbarism or criminal complicity in connection with the
tragedies on the high veldt in August, 1901. At the outset, we desire to
dissociate ourselves from any defence of the murders and other
brutalities which blacken the record of some members of the Bushveldt
Carbineers; but we do say that it is unfair to assume that any more than
a small percentage of that irregular corps is directly, or indirectly,
responsible for crimes that cried to heaven for vengeance. Unfortunately
retributive justice, in blind pursuit of the guilty, punished, in at
least one instance, the innocent. You will gather from this that we
regard the court-martial proceedings as incomplete, and seriously
unsatisfactory. As the responsibility of Witton's sad position rests with
the court-martial, and as the strength of our position is the imperfect
character of that tribunal, perhaps it would be well to state at once how
it was possible for that court to fail in arriving at the truth. In the
first place it was hurriedly summoned, and sat for three weeks dealing
with a host of charges against the Bushveldt Carbineers. Counsel for the
defence (Major Thomas) appeared in court forthwith, as he had no time for
the preparation of the many cases entrusted to him. He had scarcely a
statement to guide him, and was only confronted with evidence while the
trials proceeded. There was no chance of testing credibility, and there
was little opportunity of sifting evidence. Evidence objected to was
admitted, and rebutting evidence, available under ordinary circumstances,
was unobtainable. The defence, not designedly, but none the less
regrettably, was hampered throughout. The period was scarcely favourable
to calm judicial temperament, and the accused were prejudiced by the
stories current regarding the barbarities of the Bushveldt Carbineers.
These barbarities were bad enough, but report made them infinitely worse.
The men on trial had to bear the full brunt of every crime, real or
imaginary, attributed to the corps. Witton, being one of the accused, had
his case prejudiced with the rest. The headquarters of the military were
impressed with the necessity of decisive action to counteract the effects
of the international wave of horror created by the reports from the high
veldt. Necessarily, the mind of the court-martial--in direct touch with
Army Headquarters-was imbued with little official sympathy with the men
on trial. We do not infer that the court-martial was corrupt; we do say
it had been unconsciously influenced by its environment. If the same
court-martial sat to-day, its proceedings would be widely different, and
its conclusions more in conformity to British justice. We trust,
therefore, Sir Gordon, that you will bear in mind the all too rough and
ready character of the court-martial. However much it sufficed for the
period at Pietersburg, its deliberations and decisions must not be held,
at this later and quieter date, to be beyond review and reversal when a
precious human life is fretting within the walls of an English prison.

"We understand that you, Sir Gordon, have devoted some attention to this
case, and that the evidence published in the London 'Times' of 18th
April, 1902, may have come before you. That evidence does not fill a page
in the 'Times,' whereas the court-martial proceedings extended to three
weeks. Not more than one-twentieth part of the evidence has been made
public. Press censorship was responsible for the elimination of questions
and answers not deemed judicious for public examination during the war.
Since the signing of peace the War Office has not been called upon to
produce for public inspection the whole of the evidence. It is most
unfortunate that the papers--the missing papers--have been so completely
hidden from view. We now ask your assistance in procuring a certified
copy of the whole of the evidence, believing that such will be sufficient
to establish innocence, in Witton's case at least.

"As to the condensed and sharply-censored report of the evidence, we
desire to say little. As it has been tampered with, it is almost
valueless. Nevertheless, it does not disclose the guilt of Witton, even
though it infers it. But it does not assist the inquiry. It merely
mystifies it."

The connecting links in the Witton story have been gathered from many
sources, chiefly from those who gave evidence, or who were present to
give evidence, and were not called, or who were not asked to be present
at the court-martial. It is necessary to narrate everything about which
there is general agreement.

Here is a copy of a letter addressed by the Church of England chaplain to
Handcock's widow. It will explain much that is dark and mysterious in the
Witton case:--

"Dear Madam,--I was military chaplain at Pietersburg, in the Northern
Transvaal, during all the time that the Bushveldt Carbincers had their
headquarters there, and I knew your late husband and all those officers
and men who were concerned, for and against, in his trial, and I attended
most of the sittings of the courts. And, knowing what I know, I want to
say to you that, great as may be your grief for the loss of him, you need
feel no shame, but rather pride, on his account. He was a good-hearted
man, and a brave soldier, simple and fearless, and he did what he was
told. If he did wrong-I do not say that he did-it was the fault of his
superiors, who gave him their orders. In the matter of the shooting of
the Boer prisoners, of which he and others were found guilty, he acted
under the orders of Lieutenant Morant, a man of strong feelings and eager
to avenge the savage murder of his friend Captain Hunt.

"In the matter of the shooting of the missionary, the only one of the
crimes charged which really excited any moral indignation, the court,
without hesitation, found him not guilty, and never, I should think, has
a feebler charge been brought before a court.

"I was not a friend of these officers of the Bushveldt Carbineers, but my
sympathy was aroused by the harsh treatment they received-in being kept
in close arrest (I myself, the chaplain, was requested not to visit them)
for some months before they were tried, and by the way the case was, as
it were, prejudged from the statements of bad men, and by the utterly
false accounts which were inserted in English and, I believe, Australian
papers.

"I did not see your husband after he was taken down to Pretoria, but I
understand that he died simply and fearlessly, as he had lived.

"I have heard it said that the execution convinced the Boers of British
fairness, and made them ready to come to terms. If this be so, then
Lieutenants Morant and Handcock died for their country in a very special
sense, and this is one of the many instances of suffering, even if
undeserved, bringing salvation."

"With much sympathy and good wishes,
I am yours very truly,
JOSHUA BROUGH."

Now, as to Lieutenant Robertson, who gave evidence against his brother
officers. During the long imprisonment of the men before they were shot,
and the others who escaped the death penalty, he was retained in Pretoria
as a witness, and allowed £1 a day expenses. He had afterwards a
first-class passage to England and back.

As to the witnesses for the prosecution, whose statements were more or
less conflicting, some of them boasted openly that they expected to be
rewarded with farms. This will show how much their evidence merited
reliance. I had an opportunity while in Pretoria, in June of last year,
of discussing the case with many ex-irregulars of the Bushveldt
Carbineers. Those who had volunteered evidence against their officers
would scarcely favourably impress a jury of citizens. Decent young
fellows complained that they had not been called for the defence. The
conviction of Witton, they declared, fairly staggered them. They begged
of me, with no simulated emotion, to do my utmost as a journalist to
bring out the truth and to rescue as speedily as possible Witton from the
dungeon he did not deserve, for his humanity was apparent throughout his
military career, when a ruder nature would have been absolutely
corrupted. I promised these young men to do my utmost, and, although
effort after effort has resulted in failure, we do not despair of
abstracting Witton's case from its musty pigeon-hole in the War Office. I
leave to other members of the deputation a statement of what we have done
on Witton's behalf.

The War Office assures us that "there are no extenuating circumstances in
Witton's case." The French Minister for War assured the Republic-and the
world-that there was no doubt about the guilt of Dreyfus. The Empire's
Dreyfus case is the Witton scandal. It is a greater peril to Empire than
a conspiracy of the Powers. Let justice be done and honour vindicated,
even though the delicate susceptibilities of the War Office be perturbed
thereby.

Mr. Bruce-Hardy spoke on the legal aspect of the case as follows:--Sir
Gordon Sprigg,-I am afraid that after the eloquent speech of my worthy
friend Mr. Melville, I can say but little that will be of any great
assistance to this deputation. One point, however, I might put some
slight stress on, and that is the legal aspect of the case. Firstly, I
would like to cite a clause out of the Army Regulations and Manual of
Military Law of 1899, viz., part 1, sec. 9:--"Every person subject to
military law who commits the following offence, that is to say, disobeys
in such manner as to show a wilful defiance of authority any lawful
command given personally by his superior officer in the execution of his
office, whether the same is given orally or in writing, or by signal or
otherwise, shall, on conviction by court-martial, be liable to suffer
death or such less punishment as in this Act mentioned." Now I think the
above Act is very plain, and I would take it that in this case it implies
that had he (ex-Lieutenant Witton) disobeyed the order given him by his
superior officer to shoot the now deceased, he (Witton) would have been
guilty of a misdemeanour, and would have been liable to be shot. But to
come to the point, we ascertained that ex-Lieutenant Witton did at the
time oppose the shooting of the deceased. He stated that as a junior
officer he would have to carry out the order of his superior, but he did
so under protest; therefore again I might say that I fail to see how this
ex-Lieutenant has committed any crime. The only point, as far as I can
ascertain, that could be brought up against him is that, having received
instructions from his senior in command, he protested, which would be but
a slight misdemeanour or offence. But he has not been tried on that
account. He was tried for murder, and has been sentenced to penal
servitude for life. I must confess that I fail to see where this man has
obtained justice. Undoubtedly, if he had disobeyed his orders, he would
probably have been sentenced to death or imprisonment. It appears clear
that had ex-Lieutenant Witton obeyed or disobeyed he would have been
found guilty. Therefore I would submit that this man is, according to
Army Regulations, innocent, and I trust that you, Sir Gordon, will see
this matter in its true light, and use your best endeavours and advocate
a reopening of this case before a civil tribunal.

Mr. C. R. Juchau, who spoke next, referred to what had already been done
in this matter locally. Continuing, he said:--Shortly before the arrival
in Cape Colony of the ex-Colonial Secretary, a meeting was held, at which
it was decided to prepare a petition for signatures, and a deputation was
appointed to wait on the right hon. gentleman with the petition, and ask
him to lay the matter before His Majesty the King. Mr. Chamberlain would
not receive the deputation, but would take the petition and place it
before the King. This promise we agreed on was not fulfilled. Meetings
were held also in Johannesburg and Pretoria, the Boer Generals giving
their hearty support to the movement; and this we submit, argues well for
the justice of our cause. Sir Arthur Lawley, however, has stated that in
Witton's case there were no extenuating circumstances. This, we hold, is
a very unfair and most infamous decision in the face of the facts. As you
are aware, sir, all our efforts so far have been fruitless, but we are
determined to persevere. The press throughout the world has recently been
written to and asked to lend its powerful influence to get the case
reopened and the full evidence published. Our labours are purely
humanitarian, and we are determined to see justice done the unfortunate
ex-officer. With regard to one point dealt with in re the shooting of
Boer prisoners for wearing khaki, I do not think the authorities
concerned will deny the following case which came under my notice.
Colonel Cookson's column operated in the Western Transvaal during the
later stages of the war. About April, 1902, two Boers were caught in
Reitvlei district, about 40 miles from Klerksdorp, and one of these men
was drumheaded and shot for wearing a British khaki uniform-I believe by
a firing party from B squadron (Major Scott) Damant's Horse. As a trooper
of Cookson's column, I know that none of the officers concerned were
court-martialled up to the declaration of peace.

Captain Baudinet cited the case of the shooting of Baxter, a Boer, for
wearing khaki by the order of Colonel Scobell, and up to the time of the
signing of peace he had not heard that Colonel Scobell had been tried by
court-martial. He had offered at the time of Witton's trial to give
evidence on Witton's behalf, but was assured any exculpatory evidence
would be superfluous.

Mr. J. W. Van Reenan, an ex-officer of high rank in the army of the late
Free State, said that on the subject of khaki he wished to make some
pointed remarks, inasmuch as previous to the outbreak of hostilities
khaki clothing was ordered to be, purchased for the use of the Boer
forces. In support of that statement he added that he had to produce
vouchers from the various merchants who supplied the cloth. British
prisoners captured by the burgher forces on many occasions informed him
that orders had been given by British officers that all Boer prisoners
found wearing khaki were liable to be shot. Consequently, under these
circumstances, he could quite understand the difficulty and uncertainty
which must have arisen in the minds of junior officers in carrying out
such instructions from superiors.

Sir Gordon Sprigg said he had listened with great interest to the
speeches of the deputation, and was impressed with the very remarkable
features of the case. In many respects they were unique, and he could
quite understand that there was widespread public interest taken in the
case. He would at once say that he was in sympathy with the wishes of
those who desired to see the early release of the young Victorian
officer. He could quite understand the difficulties of a court-martial
sitting during military operations arriving at just decisions. He would
go into the case very carefully, and could promise them that he would put
the appeal in the proper quarters in the strongest terms.



CHAPTER XXV.

FREEDOM AT LAST!

A reply was received some time later by Mr. Easton from the Premier's
secretary, stating that the Premier had received a despatch from the
Colonial Secretary, who said that the Secretary of State for War was of
opinion that the time had not yet arrived for advising His Majesty to
grant my pardon.

Affidavits were secured from E. Hammett, late Sergeant-Major in the
Bushveldt Carbineers, and R. Maynard, also a late member of that
ill-fated corps; they were as follows:--

I, Ernest Hammett, Squadron Sergeant-Major, late Bushveldt Carbineers, of
Taunton, in the County of Somerset, make oath and say as follows:--

1. That on 20th June, 1901, I joined the Bushveldt Carbineers at
Capetown. On the 24th June, 1901, I proceeded to join my regiment, then
stationed at Pietersburg, Transvaal.

2. That on 2nd August, 1901, I received orders to join the detachment at
the Spelonken, some seventy miles north of Pietersburg, which was
commanded by Lieutenant Morant. Lieutenant Witton was the officer in
charge of the convoy, which left Pietersburg on 3rd August, 1901, and I,
being the senior noncommissioned officer, had many opportunities of
conversing with him, and found him to be a thorough officer and a
gentleman. We arrived at Spelonken on the 4th August, 1901, at 5 p.m.

3. I am positive that in all the operations in which Lieutenant Witton
and myself were engaged, Lieutenant Witton carried out to the strict
letter of the law the orders he received from his superior officer only.
And therefore I fail to see how he could be held responsible for any
regrettable orders given by Lieutenant Morant.

4. Lieutenant Morant and Lieutenant Handcock, who were shot at the old
Pretoria gaol on 27th February, 1902, were senior officers to Lieutenant
Witton, all being Australians, and, I may add, not drilled to the
discipline that is traditional to the ordinary British officers; but for
hard work and fighting propensities I never fell in with three braver or
more humane gentlemen during my fifteen years' military career.

5. I was arrested on the 24th October, 1901, with the officers of the
Bushveldt Carbineers, and detained in the Pietersburg prison until 1st
January, 1902, when I was, for some reason never made known to me,
released with Lieutenant Hannam.

I, Robert Maynard, make oath and say:--

1. I was a member of the Bushveldt Carbineers on active service in the
high veldt, North Transvaal, and took part in the operations against
the Boers.

2. I was acquainted with Lieutenant Witton, and verily believe that
Lieutenant Witton at all times carried out to the strict letter of the
law the orders he received from his superior officers.

3. In those particular incidents which led to his becoming
court-martialled and convicted he was merely carrying out the orders
received from his superior officers.

Many paragraphs, verses, comments, and illustrations on my case appeared
from time to time in the press in different parts of the world.

This is from "The Owl," South Africa:

Now list to the tale of an injured man--
As ever a one was he--
Who is eating his heart in durance vile,
While those who should suffer can laugh and smile,
And pick their own company.

He came from the land of the kangaroo--
From a land of men, I trow--
To fight or die for Old England's right,
To risk the peril, obey the might
That should order him to or fro.

But an order came, in the course of time,
Hard for a man to do;
For life, after all, is a precious thing,
And it isn't so easy to sever the string
When it comes to me or you.

But you must not falter, or reason why,
In the deadly time of war.
You must simply do as you're told to do
By those in authority over you,
Or what is authority for?

He obeyed, as a son of the Empire should,
Nor stopped to count the cost;
The result was the same, with authority's name,
As though he had done it for personal fame,
His case was entirely lost.

And so, to abide with the vile and corrupt
They sent him to prison away,
To languish and pine for his freedom divine;
Though they made it for life, yet I think there's a sign
That he has not much longer to stay.

Just about this time Major Lenehan had been reinstated in the
Commonwealth forces. To use his own words, he had a terrible battle the
lying reports that had been published had discredited the Carbineers in
the eyes of the public. Ultimately he succeeded in obtaining the sympathy
of one Australian Government, with the above result.

In June, 1904, I received a message informing me that my father was
seriously ill, and that Mr. Hughes, the then Minister for External
affairs, had been interviewed, and it had been suggested to him that, as
the Imperial authorities had agreed to consider the, question of my
release in the following February, they might be again approached. Mr.
Hughes brought the request before the Prime Minister, and a cable message
was sent, rehearsing the facts with respect to, my dying father, and
intimating that it would be regarded as a gracious act if my immediate
release were granted.

To this the Hon. A. G. Lyttelton, Secretary of State for the Colonies,
replied on 21st June, the date of my father's death, that he was not
disposed to depart from the promise made by the military authorities to
reconsider my sentence in February, 1905. Early in July, being still
ignorant of my father's death, I again petitioned, asking for my release
on account of his serious illness; to this petition I did not receive any
reply.

Just at this time the Hon. J. D. Logan, M.L.C., of Capetown, arrived in
England. He was a doughty champion of my cause, and enlisted the sympathy
of many of the members of the House of Commons on my behalf, particularly
that of Major Eustace Jamieson, M.P., who, after much battling and
buffeting, induced the authorities to grant my release. Not expecting
this to be accomplished for several days, Mr. Logan returned to his home
in Scotland. Upon arrival at Cardross House, in Perthshire, he found a
telegram waiting for him to the effect that the prisoner Witton would be
handed over to him at once. This meant returning immediately to England.
Mr. Logan was completely knocked up, and hardly felt equal to the task,
but he ordered out his motor car, caught the midnight express at
Stirling, and arrived in London the following morning.

My case had been brought forward in the House of Commons during the night
of 10th August. Mr. Churchill asked the Secretary of State for War
whether he could now state the intention of His Majesty's Government in
respect to Witton; to this question Mr. Arnold-Foster replied, "His
Majesty the King has been pleased to order that Witton be released."
(Cheers.)

The first intimation I received that my sentence had been remitted, and
that I was at last free, was imparted to me by the Governor of the prison
in his private office, on Thursday, 11th August. He asked me if I knew
the Hon. J. D. Logan or Major Jamieson. I replied that I was not
personally acquainted with either of those gentlemen.

"Well," he said, "I have just received a telegram instructing me to hand
you over to them; they will be here at three o'clock to take you away.
There is not much time to get you fitted out; however, we will do the
best we can for you." After being handed several congratulatory telegrams
I was hurried away to the separate cells.

Here I began to collect my thoughts. So at last the glad tidings had
come, and in two hours I would pass the barrier that separated the bond
from the free. My joy was unutterable, yet it was tinged with one
regret-I wished that it had come a little sooner. I had received the news
that my father had passed away, and I felt that the knowledge that I had
gained my freedom would have gladdened his heart in his last hours.

At the cells I was waited upon by the tailor and shoemaker, who took a
rough measurement for clothes and boots; after this a hurried visit was
paid to the photographer's studio. Here I took off my prison jacket and
donned a coat of mufti, many sizes too small for me, and a collar that
fastened at the back; an antiquated, faded tie completed the civilian
outfit. In a few minutes two photographs were taken, also finger prints
on the Bertillon system of identification.

Upon returning to my cell the master tailor brought me an outfit of
clothes, the, largest size in stock. I cast off my prison garb and donned
a suit of dark green tweed, a suit which proclaims every wearer to the
world as an ex-convict. When I dressed myself the trousers required to be
turned up at the bottom, and the sleeves at the wrists, but I was
satisfied. I did not ask for anything different. The tailor inspected me
and remarked, "It's not a bad fit after all."

I was then taken again to the office of the Governor. By this time Mr.
Logan and Mr. Herbert Kitson, his private secretary, had arrived. On
being ushered in, Mr. Logan came forward and congratulated me on
regaining my freedom, and informed me that he intended taking me to
Scotland for some grouse shooting. The Governor then handed me over some
money that had been lodged with him by my brother pending my release,
also a sum of thirty shillings earned by industry and good conduct during
my incarceration. I was not furnished with any formal discharge from His
Majesty's prison until some weeks later. I was handed over to Mr. Logan,
and after being warmly congratulated by the Governor and his deputy, we
passed out through the barrier; then the gates rolled back, and I entered
again into my freedom. More than one officer came up and wrung my hand,
and wished me good luck.

A carriage was in waiting outside, and we hurriedly drove to the railway
station. My first thoughts were to send the good news to my relatives in
Australia, and from Weymouth a cablegram was despatched to my brother.
This was hardly necessary, as the news had flashed round the world before
it had been imparted to me. We reached Waterloo station at 9 o'clock, and
drove to the Hotel Metropole for dinner. Here I met Major Jamieson, M.P.,
and expressed to him my warmest thanks for his efforts on my behalf. As
we sat down to dinner I could not help thinking of the dinner I had with
the late officers of the Carbineers the night before we left Pietersburg,
when we were in happy expectation of freedom the following morning.

After a few hours' rest we drove to Euston, and boarded the midnight
express for the North. I tried to sleep but could not; so much had been
crowded into the last few hours that my brain seemed in a whirl. At eight
in the morning we arrived at Stirling, where Mr. Logan's chaffeur was
waiting at the station with the car. In half an hour we arrived at
Cardross House, Mr. Logan's shooting-box in Perthshire. As soon as
breakfast was over the guns were brought out, and we joined the other
guests, who had made an early start on Flanders Moss; just eighteen hours
after leaving Portland I shot my first grouse. The ladies joined us for
lunch, making a pleasure party of twelve. This, my first luncheon on the
moors, was to me a notable one; speeches and toasts were indulged in, and
here I made my first speech.

My host, the Hon. James D. Logan, member of the Cape Legislative Council,
is a popular figure in South African circles, where he is universally
known as the "Laird of Matjesfontein." This genial son of Scotia was born
at Reston, Berwickshire. He is the life and soul of South African sport,
and at one time took a South African cricket eleven to England at his own
expense. When the war began he raised a corps at Matjesfontein, and did
excellent service at the front; he had his horse shot under him at
Belmont.

Those weeks I spent with Mr. Logan I look back upon as the brightest in
my life, being such a contrast to the abode of gloom I had so suddenly
left.

On 29th September I embarked at Liverpool on the White Star liner "Runic"
for Australia; the passenger list totalled 500. Splendid weather was
experienced during our run to Capetown.

At Capetown the "Runic" remained in port only a few hours. Here I was met
and warmly welcomed back to South Africa by Mr. and Mrs. Herbert Easton,
Mr. Bruce Hardy, Mr. Palmer, and other members of the Capetown Release
Committee, who had done such excellent work in making the facts of my
case so universally known.

On the 12th November 1904, after a chequered experience extending over
nearly five years, I placed my foot again on my native soil. On my
arrival in Australia I met among others Mr. Wainwright, general secretary
of the Australian Natives' Association, and his son, Mr. Austin
Wainwright, who so ably assisted my brother in his efforts towards my
release. I also met Mr. Alfred Deakin, a true compatriot, who during his
term of office as Prime Minister of the Commonwealth had been untiring in
his efforts to secure my liberty and return to Australia.



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Scapegoats of the Empire by Lieut. George Witton





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