One
evening we had a consignment into the road just outside my bomb-proof,
attracted by a herd of mules going to water. Immediately the small
piccaninny driving these animals scampered off, returning in triumph
with one of these prizes, which he brought me still so hot that I could
not hold it. It used often to strike me how comic these scenes at
Mafeking would have been to any aeronaut hovering over the town of an
evening, especially when the shelling had been heavy. Towards sundown
the occupants of the various bomb-proofs used to emerge and sit on the
steps or the sandbags of their shelters, conversing with their
neighbours and discussing the day's damage. All of a sudden the bell
would tinkle, and down would go all the heads, just as one has often
seen rabbits on a summer evening disappear into their holes at the
report of a gun. In a few minutes, when the explosion was over, they
would bob up again, to see if any harm had been done by the last
missile. Then night would gradually fall on the scene, sometimes made
almost as light as day by a glorious African moon, concerning which I
shall always maintain that in no other country is that orb of such
brightness, size, and splendour. The half-hour between sundown and
moonrise, or twilight and inky blackness, as the case happened to be,
according to the season or the weather, was about the pleasantest time
in the whole day.
Pages:
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173