The weather had cleared up beautifully. The air was deliciously cool and bracing. Everything, as is usual after rain, seemed to revive. But shortly after midday clouds rose again in the west, and a violent shower of rain, accompanied by thunder and lightning, fell by way of farewell. At night all was clear again, and the stars shone brightly. We had got to Smith's Rest.
At midnight we were roused. The report had come that the English were pursuing us very closely. Immediately we saddled and inspanned. We ploughed on through the mud, and so gained on the enemy. A little after sunrise we outspanned and rested for a short time. Before noon we were again on the move to get out of reach of the foe.
The veld was more beautiful than the day before. A carpet of green stretched out all around, and that served much to cheer us. But our poor horses were not invigorated. They suffered terribly from hunger, and could not yet graze on the short young pasture. The consequence was that, already then, some 150 had become so exhausted that they had to be left behind. This was the case with the horse lent to me by Mr. Adriaan Dolebout—that faithful animal so sure-footed, and never needing either spur or whip! It had travelled through long winter nights without any sign apparently of fatigue; it had often rescued my son from danger! And now it had to be left behind! With great emotion Charlie took the halter from its head, and when it remained behind exhausted, it still neighed a farewell to the pony that had been its companion since the 2nd of August.
Proceeding, we saw beautiful landscapes spreading out before us. To the left just above the horizon, Aasvogel Kop raised its head; right before us towered the proud Wolve Kop, whilst to the right in the purple distance we saw Gnoesberg and Aasvogelberg standing sentinels over Zastron. And everywhere before us, behind us, and on both sides of us were the hills, rejoicing in their newly acquired garment of green.
At first we marched straight towards Wolve Kop, but when we got near to that mountain we suddenly turned to the left, and off-saddled for a while at a farm where we got one bundle of forage—only one—for each horse. This was the first forage for five days. In the evening we went on some distance farther.
It soon appeared now that we could not choose to go either to the left or to the right to avoid the English. We were between two full rivers; for the Caledon had also become swollen after we had crossed it. Still less could we come to a halt, for the force which pursued us had so greatly increased, that to fight was out of the question. Besides, the English had a great many cannons. Our scouts estimated that there were about twenty-five guns. The English themselves, as we learned later from the newspapers, gave a larger number. There was therefore no time to delay, more especially as the enemy often was not farther away from us than nine miles. On the second day after we had turned at Odendalstroom we went forward with the purpose of crossing the Caledon with the bridge. We knew that there was a guard there, but for a force like ours they did not amount to much. They might be driven away. And so we began to bombard them. It was soon seen, however, that the guard could not be driven off before the large army which was following us would overtake us, and the plan of crossing over the bridge was abandoned. The state of affairs was indeed critical. General Botha called me aside, and advised me to hold myself in readiness to gallop out on horseback if my cart[6] was in danger of being captured. After some delay near the bridge, nothing remained for us but to go up along the Caledon and try to find a ford which would be shallow enough to enable us to cross. We therefore proceeded with the greatest speed, hoping for the best, but constantly apprehensive lest, even if we found a ford, we should be caught up there.
But all went well. At sunset we reached Lubbe's Drift. A better place to cross we could never have desired, and the river had now also fallen so much that we could pass over without delay. That evening we were for the present out of danger, and here and there one could hear a psalm being sung: a thing that had not occurred during the past week.
