CHAPTER VII

IN A REBELLIOUS COLONY—­VISIT TO VRYBURG DURING THE BOER
OCCUPATION—­I PASS OFF AS A DUTCHMAN’S SISTER

“The days are so long, and there are so many of them.” 
DU MAURIER.

During the weeks I remained at Mosita, the only book I had to read was “Trilby,” which I perused many times, and the lament of the heroine in the line quoted above seemed to re-echo my sentiments.  For days and days we were absolutely without news.  It is impossible after a lapse of time to realize exactly what that short sentence really means.  I must ask my readers to remember that we talked and thought of one topic only; we looked incessantly in the one direction by which messengers might come.  Our nerves were so strained that, did we but see one of the natives running across the yard, or hear them conversing in louder tones than usual, we at once thought there must be news, and jumped up from any occupation with which we were trying to beguile the time, only to sink back on our chairs again disappointed.  As for knowing what was passing in the world, one might as well have been in another planet.  We saw no papers, and there was not much prospect of obtaining any.  Before the war we had all talked lightly of wires being cut and railway-lines pulled up, but, in truth, I do not think anyone realized what these two calamities really meant.  My only comfort was the reflection that, no matter how hard they were fighting in Mafeking, they could not be suffering the terrible boredom that we were enduring.  To such an extent in this monotony did I lose the count of time, that I had to look in the almanack to be able to say, in Biblical language, “The evening and the morning were the sixth day.”

At length one evening, when we were sitting on the stoep after supper, we descried a rider approaching on a very tired horse.  Rushing to the gate, we were handed letters from Mafeking.  It can be imagined how we devoured them.  They told of three determined attacks on the town on the third day after I had left, all successfully repulsed, and of a bombardment on the following Monday.  The latter had been somewhat of a farce, and had done no damage, except to one or two buildings which, by an irony of fate, included the Dutch church and hotel and the convent.  The shells were of such poor quality that they were incapable of any explosive force whatever.[26] After nine hours’ bombardment, although some narrow escapes were recorded, the only casualties were one chicken killed and one dog wounded.  An emissary from Commandant Snyman had then come solemnly into the town under a flag of truce, to demand an unconditional surrender “to avoid further bloodshed.”  Colonel Baden-Powell politely replied that, as far as he was concerned, operations had not begun.  The messenger was given refreshment at Dixon’s Hotel, where lunch was laid out as usual.  This had astonished him considerably,