With Steyn and De WetPienaar, F. F. (Filippus Fourie)
History
With Steyn and De Wet
Pienaar, F. F. (Filippus Fourie)
Pienaar, F. F. (Filippus Fourie), 1877-1948; South African War, 1899-1902 -- Personal narratives, Afrikaner
When driving away from the spot where, in the midst of war's alarms, I
had yet spent some of the happiest hours of my life, I could not help
looking back long and earnestly at the beautiful homestead, and
wondering what fate held in store for it and its kind-hearted owner,
who, always against the war, and weary of sacrifices he deemed useless,
had determined to remain behind and surrender to the enemy. Like many of
our best and most progressive men, he had become disgusted with the want
of discipline in the ranks, and the painful lack of unanimity amongst
the leaders. Sincere in his convictions, I do not think he could be
blamed for acting up to them. Those who have rightly earned the
contempt and hatred of every true Afrikander are those Boers who, not
content with deserting, have gone yet further, and attempted to assist
the enemy that they were fighting against only the day before. Even
their new masters must surely despise such willing slaves!
Absorbed in these reflections, I yet had time to notice the approach,
from the opposite direction, of a Cape cart drawn by six bays.
As the two carts passed each other the team of bays was stopped by a
vigorous hand, and President Steyn addressed us, force and determination
stamping every word and gesture.
"Good morning! Why are you leaving already? I want communication with
Kroonstad!"
"Good morning, President. We had orders to leave at once, but there is
an operator in the office still; he will remain till the last moment."
"Very well; good-bye!" And off he went, the dust clinging to his long
brown beard.
We drove on, our four horses trotting merrily along. We were five in the
vehicle, however, including the driver and his little boy, and presently
the weight began to tell. After the first halt one of the leaders
failed.
"He won't make it much further," said the inspector. "Better turn him
loose and see what can be done with three."
"I have a better plan," said our other companion. Stopping the cart, he
unharnessed the animal, passed the rope through its mouth, vaulted on
its back, and rode to a farmhouse some distance away. Presently he
returned, bringing another horse, which he had obtained in exchange for
our exhausted animal.
Thus reinforced, we pushed on, arriving at Senekal at ten that night.
The only hotel was crowded; we were glad to sleep on the parlour floor.
After breakfast the next morning we continued our journey, passing group
after group of burghers on their way home.
It was truly painful to see these poor fellows struggling along, their
horses scarce able to walk and themselves in a condition not much
better. At noon we outspanned at some water-pools, where several of
these groups were also resting. We entered into conversation with them,
and they told us that they had retired earlier than the others on
account of the weakness of their animals; that one of their number had
been taken ill, and could ride no further, even if his horse could carry
him, which was doubtful.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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