CHAPTER III

ALONG THE SOUTHERN FRONTIER

East London:  November 5, 1899.

We have left Headquarters busy with matters that as yet concern no one but themselves in the Mount Nelson Hotel at Cape Town—­a most excellent and well-appointed establishment, which may be thoroughly appreciated after a sea voyage, and which, since many of the leading Uitlanders have taken up their abode there during the war, is nicknamed ’The Helot’s Rest.’  Last night I started by rail for East London, whence a small ship carries the weekly English mail to Natal, and so by this circuitous route I hope to reach Ladysmith on Sunday morning.  We have thus gained three days on our friends who proceed by the ‘Dunottar Castle,’ and who were mightily concerned when they heard—­too late to follow—­of our intentions.  But though it is true in this case that the longest way round is the shortest way, there were possibilities of our journey being interrupted, because the line from De Aar Junction to Naauwpoort runs parallel to the southern frontier of the Free State, and though hostile enterprises have not yet been attempted against this section of the railways they must always be expected.

Railway travelling in South Africa is more expensive but just as comfortable as in India.  Lying-down accommodation is provided for all, and meals can be obtained at convenient stopping places.  The train, which is built on the corridor system, runs smoothly over the rails—­so smoothly, indeed, that I found no difficulty in writing.  The sun is warm, and the air keen and delicious.  But the scenery would depress the most buoyant spirits.  We climbed up the mountains during the night, and with the daylight the train was in the middle of the Great Karroo.  Wherefore was this miserable land of stone and scrub created?  Huge mounds of crumbling rock, fashioned by the rains into the most curious and unexpected shapes, rise from the gloomy desert of the plain.  Yet, though the Karroo looks a hopeless wilderness, flocks of sheep at distant intervals—­one sheep requires six hundred acres of this scrappy pasture for nourishment—­manage to subsist; and in consequence, now and again the traveller sees some far-off farm.

We look about eagerly for signs of war.  Little is as yet to be seen, and the Karroo remains unsympathetic.  But all along the southern frontier of the Free State the expectation of early collision grows.  The first sign after leaving Cape Town is the Proclamation against treason published by Sir Alfred Milner.  The notice-boards of the railway stations are freely placarded with the full text in English and Dutch, beginning with ’Whereas a state of war exists between the Government of her Majesty and the Governments of the South African Republic and of the Orange Free State ...’ continuing to enjoin good and loyal behaviour on all, detailing the pains and penalties for disobedience, and ending with ’God save the Queen.’  Both races have recorded their opinions on their respective versions:  the British by underlining the penalties, the Dutch by crossing out the first word of ‘God Save the Queen.’  It is signed ’A.  Milner,’ and below, in bitter irony, ‘W.P.  Schreiner.’