Mafikeng (South Africa) -- History -- Siege, 1899-1900 -- Personal narratives, British
The rumour that a Boer force is within the vicinity of Kimberley has
done much to assist in the speedy formation of local forces, and now
that the train mules and private bullock teams have been requisitioned
for the Imperial service, there is much solemn speculation upon the
date of hostilities. The fact is that no one here can, with any
certainty, predict an hour. A shot anywhere will set the borderside
aflame. Moreover, the Boers are daily growing more impudent. At
Borderside, where the frontiers are barely eighty yards apart, a field
cornet and his men, who are patrolling their side of the line, greet
the pickets of the Cape Police who are stationed there with exulting
menaces and much display of rifles. But if the Dutch be thirsting in
this fashion for our blood, people at home can rest confident in the
fact that there will be no holding back upon the part of our men once
the fun begins. Seldom has such a determined and ferocious spirit
animated any British force as that one which is now stimulating the
troops in South Africa. Every man is sick of the Cabinet's delay, but
they find consolation in the fact that the slow movement of the
Ministerial machine is undertaken to avoid any precipitation of the
crisis before the forces to be engaged have arrived upon the scene.
Then it is every man's ambition to take his own share in "whopping"
Kruger.
I did not hurry to leave Kimberley; but the place where the diamonds
come from, the least admirable of any town on earth, is no longer
essential to my existence. It has neither charm nor elegance, and it
is sufficiently irregular in its construction to be the most barbarous
example of architecture in South Africa. It greets the traveller
enveloped in the haze of heat, and it bids him farewell through a
cloud of sand. But if one has once imagined what the appearance of the
mining town may be, let him give it a wide berth. It is a conglomerate
jumble of tin houses with dusty streets dedicated to modern industry,
and palpitating with the mere mechanical energy of native labour.
[Illustration: Major Lord Edward Cecil, C.S.O.]
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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