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A Royal Engineer in the Low Countries

A Cavalry Surgeon at Waterloo

With the Third Guards during the Peninsular War

The First and Last Campaigns of the Great War

Supernatural and Weird Fiction of Vincent O'Sullivan

Supernatural and Weird Fiction of Algernon Blackwood

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Ladies of the Veldt

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Ladies of the Veldt
Leonaur Original
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Author(s): Sarah Wilson & Mrs. Heckford
Date Published: 2013/12
Page Count: 504
Softcover ISBN-13: 978-1-78282-193-9
Hardcover ISBN-13: 978-1-78282-192-2

Two resolute women—the first female ‘warco’ and the trader

This special Leonaur two-in-one volume contains accounts by two resourceful and independent women who made their way through the often hostile bushlands of Southern Africa in the 19th Century. The youngest daughter of the 7th Duke of Marlborough and aunt to Winston Churchill, the future Prime Minister, Lady Sarah-Spencer Churchill became the first female war correspondent when she was recruited to cover the siege of Mafeking, during the Second Boer War, for the Daily Mail. Baden-Powell and his garrison including (Lady Sarah’s husband), under constant attack by superior Boer forces, were awaiting relief from the British Army under Roberts. On Baden-Powell’s insistence Lady Sarah had left Mafeking before it was surrounded, but had been captured by the Boers and returned to the town under a prisoner exchange scheme. Although untrained as a journalist, Lady Sarah’s ‘matter of fact’ style proved to be a huge hit with the domestic reading audience for depicting the’ carry on under any adversity’ bulldog spirit that they felt typified their national character. From an earlier period of the Cape’s troubled colonial history, the second work in this book, relating Mrs. Heckford’s experiences, are of no less interest. Arriving in the Cape on the eve of the Zulu War in the late 1870s, this remarkable and resolute lady carved a life for herself in close proximity to the potentially dangerous Kaffir tribes and the Boers who were disaffected by British Imperial rule and by the annexation of the Transvaal in particular. The hostilities of the First Anglo-Boer War, notable for the British disaster at Majuba Hill in 1881, broke out in late 1880 and Mrs. Heckford found herself besieged in Pretoria in the midst of the uprising.
Leonaur editions are newly typeset and are not facsimiles; each title is available in softcover and hardback with dustjacket.

The Boers, after setting fire to the stadt, had rushed it, surprising the occupants; and the horrible noise of their cheering arose again and again. Then a terrific fusillade broke out from this new direction, rendering the roadway a place of the greatest danger. My quarters were evidently getting too hot, and I knew that Weil’s house and store would be the first objective of the Boers. I bethought me even novices might be useful in the hospital, so I decided to proceed there in one way or another. Although the rifle-fire was slackening towards the east, from the fort, on the west it was continuing unabated; and the way to the hospital lay through the most open part of the town.
Calling to our soldier servant of the Royal Horse Guards to accompany me, I snatched up a few things of value and started off. “You will be shot, to a certainty,” said Mr. Weil. But it was no use waiting, as one could not tell what would happen next. The bullets were fortunately flying high; all the same, we had twice to stop under a wall and wait for a lull before proceeding. Then I saw a native boy fall in front of me, and at the same moment I stumbled and fell heavily, the servant thinking I was hit; and all the while we could hear frightened cries continuing to emanate from the flaming stadt.
The day had fully broken, and never had the roads appeared so white and wide, the sheltering houses so few and far between. At length we reached the hospital trench, and the last 500 yards of the journey were accomplished in perfect safety. My dangerous experiences ended for the rest of that dreadful day, which I spent in the haven of those walls, sheltering so much suffering, and that were, alas! by evening crammed to their fullest capacity. It was a gruesome sight seeing the wounded brought in, and the blood-stained stretchers carried away empty, when the occupants had been deposited in the operating-room. Sometimes an ambulance waggon would arrive with four or five inmates; at others we descried a stretcher-party moving cautiously across the recreation-ground towards us with a melancholy load. It is easy to imagine our feelings of dread and anxiety as we scanned the features of the new arrivals, never knowing who might be the next.
During the morning three wounded Boers were brought in—the first prisoners Mafeking could claim; then a native with his arm shattered to the shoulder. All were skilfully and carefully attended to by the army surgeon and his staff in a marvellously short space of time, and comfortably installed in bed. But the Boers begged not to have sheets, as they had never seen such things before. Among the English casualties, one case was a very sad one. A young man, named Hazelrigg, of an old Leicestershire family, was badly shot in the region of the heart when taking a message to the B.S.A.P. fort, not knowing the Boers were in possession. Smart and good-looking, he had only just been promoted to the post of orderly from being a private in the Cape Police, into which corps he had previously enlisted, having failed in his army examination. When brought to the hospital, Hazelrigg had nearly bled to death, and was dreadfully weak, his case being evidently hopeless. I sat with him several hours, putting eau-de-Cologne on his head and brushing away the flies. In the evening, just before he passed into unconsciousness, he repeated more than once: “Tell the colonel, Lady Sarah, I did my best to give the message, but they got me first.” He died at dawn.
All through the weary hours of that perfect summer’s day the rifles never ceased firing. Sometimes a regular fusillade for ten minutes or so; then, as if tired out, sinking down to a few single shots, while the siren-like whistle and sharp explosion of the shells from the high-velocity gun continued intermittently, and added to the dangers of the streets. So the hours dragged on. All the time the wildest rumours pervaded the air. Now the Boers had possession of the whole stadt; again, as soon as night fell, large reinforcements were to force their way in. Of course we knew the colonel was all the while maturing his plans to rid the town of the unbidden guests, but what these were no one could tell. About 8 p.m., when we were in the depth of despair, we got an official message to say that the Boers in the stadt had been surrounded and taken prisoners, and also that the fort had surrendered to Colonel Hore, who, with some of his officers, had been all day in the curious position of captives in their own barracks.
Of course our delight and thankfulness knew no bounds. In spite of the dead and dying patients, those who were slightly wounded or convalescent gave a feeble cheer, which was a pathetic sound. We further heard that the prisoners, in number about a hundred, including Commandant Eloff, their leader, were then being marched through the town to the Masonic Hall, followed by a large crowd of jeering and delighted natives. Two of the nurses and myself ran over to look at them, and I never saw a more motley crew. In the dim light of a few oil-lamps they represented many nationalities, the greater part laughing, joking, and even singing, the burghers holding themselves somewhat aloof, but the whole community giving one the idea of a body of men who knew they had got out of a tight place, and were devoutly thankful still to have whole skins. Eloff and three principal officers were accommodated at Mr. Weil’s house, having previously dined with the colonel and staff.
At 6 a.m. Sunday morning we were awakened by three shells bursting close by, one after the other. I believe no one was more frightened than Eloff; but he told us that it was a preconcerted signal, and that, if they had been in possession of the town, they were to have answered by rifle-fire, when the Boers would have marched in. These proved to be the last shells that were fired into Mafeking.
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