At the Fireside--Volume 1 (6 page)

Groot Adriaan agreed to this and so Scotty had the peculiar delight of taking part in a fruitless hunt for himself! This went on for two days. Then Scotty told the Boers that, as he and his friend were now a long way from home, they would have to start back in the morning. He thanked the commando for allowing him to take part in the search and said, ‘Every night you have taken it in turn to stand watch, and we've done nothing As it is our last night, we would like to do our share of guard duty so that you can all have a good night's rest.' The men were only too glad to accept this considerate offer and, needless to say, when they awoke at dawn the next day, not only had Scotty and his friend disappeared, but all the horses had vanished as well.

Though our hero seems to have borne a charmed life, not all freebooters were so lucky. Close to the western border of the Transvaal, not far from Massouw's camp at Manthe, is a deep ravine known as Honey's Kloof. It was here that James Honey, one of the toughest and most reckless of the filibusters, met a sudden and violent death. Honey, a mercenary fighting for the Koranna chief, Massouw, had a bitter quarrel with his fellow adventurers over the distribution of the land and booty. Honey apparently tried to incite the Koranna against them and they decided to have their revenge. They captured him after a struggle and set off back home. It was an extremely hot day when they came upon the spring in the kloof and they went to rest the horses and quench their thirst.

Honey also begged for water. They loosened the riem around his wrists and, as he knelt to drink, one of his captors shot him in the back of the head. Honey toppled slowly over into the stream, staining it red with his blood. The commando then threw his saddle down beside his body and rode away.

African herd boys who found the body reported their find to the authorities and the matter was referred to Sir Charles Warren. As a result Sarel Petrus Celliers, the former commander of Massouw's mercenaries, was arrested along with Gert van Niekerk and others, but owing to lack of evidence, all were later released. However, the story does not end there. According to local legend, shortly after the tragedy, a strange thing happened. To the amazement of the Africans living around Manthe, the eye of the spring began to recede gradually down the kloof until, a year later, it was fully sixty metres away.

The locals swore that Honey's ghost haunted the place and that every year, on the anniversary of the murder, a shot could be plainly heard in the area. ‘The spirit that inhabited the spring', they told their children, ‘was very angry because the blood of the white man had defiled his waters. So he went to live in another place.'

We leave Scotty himself now and take a brief look at what was happening in that area and how it was affected by larger political events. In July 1882 a peace treaty was drawn up between the Transvaal Government and chief Mankaroane, in terms of which a large portion of Batlaping land was taken away and used to establish the Republic of Stellaland, with Vryburg as its capital. In July 1883, amid great jubilation, the Republic was foiinally proclaimed by freebooter Gert van Niekerk and its flag – a white star on a green background – was ceremoniously hoisted. Stellaland and Goshen were now nominally independent states, with the Transvaal exercising a vague and ill-defined suzerainty over them.

This was Rhodes' worst nightmare, as the famous Missionary Road seemed likely to be incorporated into the Transvaal and his ‘Cape to Cairo' dream was fading fast. So imminent was the danger that Rhodes urged Her Majesty's Government to annex Bechuanaland to forestall the designs of the Germans in South West Africa and the Transvaalers to the east.

The man selected to help maintain peace and order in this unruly area was the Reverend John Mackensie. Mackensie was a zealous political missionary and took very little trouble in hiding his virulently anti-Boer sentiments. The new Commissioner arrived in July 1884 and took strong action immediately. He accepted Montsioa as a British subject, declared the area a British Protectorate, then promptly lowered the one-star flag and raised the Union Jack – all on his own authority. The freebooters went wild. They wanted to lynch him, and there was also huge resentment in the Transvaal Republic. Their Commissioner's action took the British Government completely by surprise and they decided on a complete reversal of policy. They rapped him over the knuckles, ordered the lowering of the British Flag, the raising of the one-star and had him recalled, replacing him with none other than Cecil John Rhodes himself

Rhodes arrived in Vryheid and, early one morning, went to Niekerksrest on the banks of the Harts River, where he met Van Niekerk, De la Rey and other Stellaland leaders. The Boer mood was very ugly. De la Rey particularly was spoiling for trouble, saying, ‘Blood must flow, blood must flow'. But Rhodes knew exactly how to handle this kind of situation. ‘Nonsense', he replied. ‘I'm hungry. Give me breakfast first, and then we will talk about blood.'

His appeal to traditional Boer hospitality did the trick. Over breakfast the aggression and suspicion gradually subsided and soon they were on friendly terms. Rhodes actually stayed in the Boer camp for a week and became godfather to De la Rey's grandchild. Soon a deal was struck. Rhodes guaranteed the Boers' possession of their farms and cattle and they in turn agreed to accept British rule. Once again the tribes, in this case the Batlaping, lost out on a deal struck between the British and the Boers.

Further north in Goshen, Montsioa was also getting the dirty end of the stick, eventually being forced to surrender practically all of his lands to the freebooters. Gey van Pittius took charge and declared the country Transvaal territory, whilst S J du Toit hoisted the Vierkleur in triumph. On the very same day, Paul Kruger boldly annexed Goshen to the South African Republic. This really put the cat among the pigeons. There was a tremendous outcry at the Cape and Rhodes asked for British military intervention.

Sir Charles Warren set out from the Cape with a large force and arrived in Vryburg early in 1885. Those in favour of British rule were jubilant, but the Transvaal Government's reaction was immediate and dramatic. President Kruger withdrew the annexation proclamation and Du Toit hauled down the Transvaal flag. The southern part of Bechuanaland, incorporating both Goshen and Stellaland, became a Crown Colony while the northern part became a British Protectorate. The short-lived, inglorious era of the freebooters came to a sudden end.

Meanwhile, Massouw was still causing trouble to the north with his persistent cattle raiding, and the Transvaal government decided to take action. A force of nearly 1 000 men was raised, with the Commandant-General himself, Piet Joubert, in command. Joubert, always a cautious man, upon reaching Mamusa attempted to negotiate a peaceful settlement with the Chief, but the younger members were itching for a fight and, led by one of the more impetuous young Commandants, Piet Cronje, they climbed the hill up to Massouw's fort and demanded the Chief's immediate surrender. A heated argument ensued – a shot was fired and bloody battle was joined. So fierce was the fray that within minutes ten Boers lay dead.

However, by the end of the Battle of Mamusa, Massouw had suffered a terrible defeat. The Chief himself and all of his counsellors were killed. An extremely unfortunate aspect of the battle was that a large number of women and children were caught up in the crossfire and also perished. The Koranna tribe which, for more than a century, had trekked all the way up from Table Bay, was finally completely destroyed. Fewer than 100 people escaped with their lives that fateful day. They were dispersed among the surrounding tribes and soon lost their identity.

Today the sole reminder of this bloody massacre is the town of Schweizer-Reneke. The name commemorates two of the Transvaal Boers who lost their lives in that battle, Captain C A Schweizer and Veldkomet G N Reneke. Maybe it is time we looked at this place name again and, in the interests of reconciliation, take the other side into consideration.

As for Scotty, the fall of Goshen and Stellaland made very little difference to his life. He remained a law unto himself – nobody could prevent him from going where he wanted to and doing exactly as he pleased.

During Sir Charles Warren's expedition to annex southern Bechuanaland, Scotty was hired as a guide. Shortly after this Scotty purchased a farm and a store in the Kheis area on the Orange, now Senqui, River. But he did no actual farming there. This was merely a cover and a convenient hiding place for stolen stock, before they were re-branded and prepared for market. He acquired a second farm just outside of Amalia village, not very far from Schweizer-Reneke, which he also used for grazing and fattening his purloined cattle. This area is still known as Diewedraai.

A gunrunning exploit of his, into Basutoland, is well worth the telling. In 1871 this country, at the request of King Moshweshwe, had been taken under the protection of the British Crown. But the proud Basuto people had in no sense been conquered. They were still ruled by their King and almost every man possessed a rifle. In 1880, after the Zulu War, the Cape Government, fearing this large force of armed tribesmen, tried to disarm them and many rose in rebellion. The so-called Gun War ensued and, after three years and an expenditure of £4 500 000, it reached an inconclusive end. The rebels were ‘defeated', but allowed to retain their weapons, with a strict embargo on new importations. Inevitably, it became the ambition of every Basuto to possess an illicit firearm. They were all prepared to pay a premium and this set of circumstances was just right for our man.

Having secured a large number of Snider rifles, muzzle-loaders and soft-nosed bullets, along with a quantity of powder, Scotty trekked across the Free State, to Ficksburg, near the Basutoland border. He hid his wagons in the bushes close to the road and boldly rode up to the frontier alone. The Veldkornet guarding the border with a handful of men hospitably offered him a cup of coffee. After gaining the man's confidence, Scotty said, ‘Look, Meneer. I have some very important information for you. I know that there is a lot of gunrunning taking place, and I have found out that Scotty Smith is the main culprit. What's more, I will show you how he does it! As a matter of fact, I have had a tip that he has just run a cargo into Basutoland, and they have not yet been collected. He's hiding them in a drift on the Caledon River and they are to be collected tonight.'

The officer became very excited. ‘Can you show me the place?'

‘Yes', Scotty replied. ‘It's about twenty kilometres south of here. I don't know if Scotty will still be there, but you had better take all the men you can, as he's a pretty desperate fellow.'

The officer was greatly impressed with the charm of the genial stranger and decided to take no chances. He ordered all his men to mount their horses and, leaving the post to its own devices, they rode hard for a couple of hours to the south. When they came to a drift Scotty and the Veldkornet dismounted and reconnoitred the area. They found no one and the officer ordered the men to picket their horses. They followed Scotty on foot to a bend.

‘There!' cried Scotty. ‘That's where they are hidden.'

‘But surely the powder will spoil in the water?' said the officer.

‘Scotty's a sly one', came the reply. ‘The boxes will be watertight.'

The men began probing the water and, sure enough, they found one box, then another, then another, but they were too heavy to lift and the entire patrol came to assist. Scotty wandered casually away until he was around the bend, and then ran swiftly to the picketed horses. After setting them loose and stampeding them, he mounted his own steed and galloped back to the border post where he had left his wagons. He quickly inspanned and drove the wagons safely past the deserted border post to the rendezvous deep inside Basutoland.

Meanwhile, the Veldkornet and his men had managed to get some of the enormously heavy boxes to the bank and had prised the lids open, only to find them filled with river boulders. When they looked around for the stranger he had disappeared and so had their horses. They had a long and weary walk back to their post.

Another of his favourite stories concerned an encounter with the Jewish diamond thief. Scotty was transport riding at the time when he happened upon a pedlar walking along the road and offered him a lift. He noticed that the man appeared to be highly agitated and kept glancing over his shoulder.

‘What's the matter?' asked Scotty. ‘Is something troubling you?' ‘It's nothing, it's nothing', the pedlar muttered. They were nearing the border when the man let out a yell.

‘The police, the police! They are after me!' Scotty turned his head and saw a small posse in the distance.

‘Hide me, hide me!' cried the stricken passenger. He flung himself flat on the bed of the wagon and Scotty quickly threw a sail over him and piled some boxes and packages on top.

The police rode up and immediately asked Scotty if he had passed anybody on the road.

‘Yes,' replied Scotty, ‘I saw a pedlar some way back, if that's the fellow you are after. He's a small man dressed in a dirty corduroy suit and wearing a slouch hat.'

‘That's him', cried the Sergeant, ‘that's our man alright'.

‘What's he done?' asked Scotty.

‘Stealing diamonds', came the reply. ‘He's got quite a packet on him.'

‘Well, if you want to capture him you'll have to retrace your steps. As soon as he saw me coming, he branched off into the veld.'

“Where was that?' the sergeant enquired.

‘About four kilometres back there is an ironstone koppie with a small dried-up vlei next to it. That was where I saw him turn off'

‘Thanks!' shouted the Sergeant. ‘We'll get him alright. Goodbye!' And he and his men thundered back the way they had come.

At that moment Scotty stuck his hand in his pocket and felt a hard package. A slow grin spread over his face and, stooping down, he whispered to the pedlar, ‘I've put the police off the scent, but you had better stay hidden for a while longer.' He opened the parcel and, seeing a number of fairly large diamonds inside, he placed it in one of the wagon boxes. ‘It's alright, you can come out now', he called.