Speeded the cable on its long journey to the
newspaper office on the Thames Embankment.
When one descended to the streets again - there are only two streets
which run the full length of the town - and looked for signs of the
siege, one found them not in the shattered houses, of which there
seemed surprisingly few, but in the starved and fever-shaken look of
the people.
The cloak of indifference which every Englishman wears, and his
instinctive dislike to make much of his feelings, and, in this case,
his pluck, at first concealed from us how terribly those who had been
inside of Ladysmith had suffered, and how near to the breaking point
they were. Their faces were the real index to what they had passed
through.
Any one who had seen our men at Montauk Point or in the fever camp at
Siboney needed no hospital list to tell him of the pitiful condition
of the garrison. The skin on their faces was yellow, and drawn
sharply over the brow and cheekbones; their teeth protruded, and they
shambled along like old men, their voices ranging from a feeble pipe
to a deep whisper. In this pitiable condition they had been forced
to keep night-watch on the hill-crests, in the rain, to lie in the
trenches, and to work on fortifications and bomb-proofs. And they
were expected to do all of these things on what strength they could
get from horse-meat, biscuits of the toughness and composition of
those that are fed to dogs, and on "mealies," which is what we call
corn.
That first day in Ladysmith gave us a faint experience as to what the
siege meant. The correspondents had disposed of all their tobacco,
and within an hour saw starvation staring them in the face, and raced
through the town to rob fellow-correspondents who had just arrived.
The new-comers in their turn had soon distributed all they owned, and
came tearing back to beg one of their own cigarettes. We tried to
buy grass for our ponies, and were met with pitying contempt; we
tried to buy food for ourselves, and were met with open scorn. I
went to the only hotel which was open in the place, and offered large
sums for a cup of tea.
"Put up your money," said the Scotchman in charge, sharply. "What's
the good of your money? Can your horse eat money? Can you eat
money? Very well, then, put it away."
The great dramatic moment after the raising of the siege was the
entrance into Ladysmith of the relieving column. It was a
magnificent, manly, and moving spectacle. You must imagine the dry,
burning heat, the fine, yellow dust, the white glare of the sunshine,
and in the heat and glare and dust the great interminable column of
men in ragged khaki crowding down the main street, twenty-two
thousand strong, cheering and shouting, with the sweat running off
their red faces and cutting little rivulets in the dust that caked
their cheeks.
