down to dinner with a real tablecloth and real glasses;
and fortune, determined not to overlook the smallest detail, had
arranged that the steamer 'Induna' should leave that very night for
Durban. As soon as the news of my arrival spread about the town, I
received many offers of assistance from the English residents, and lest
any of the Boer agents with whom Lourenco Marques is infested should
attempt to recapture me in neutral territory, nearly a dozen gentlemen
escorted me to the steamer armed with revolvers. It is from the cabin of
this little vessel, as she coasts along the sandy shores of Africa, that
I write the concluding lines of this letter, and the reader who may
persevere through this hurried account will perhaps understand why I
write them with a feeling of triumph, and better than triumph, a feeling
of pure joy.

CHAPTER XII

BACK TO THE BRITISH LINES

Frere: December 24, 1899.

The voyage of the "Induna" from Delagoa Bay to Durban was speedy and
prosperous, and on the afternoon of the 23rd we approached our port, and
saw the bold headland that shields it rising above the horizon to the
southward. An hour's steaming brought us to the roads. More than twenty
great transports and supply vessels lay at anchor, while three others,
crowded from end to end with soldiery, circled impatiently as they
waited for pilots to take them into the harbour. Our small vessel was
not long in reaching the jetty, and I perceived that a very considerable
crowd had gathered to receive us. But it was not until I stepped on
shore that I realised that I was myself the object of this honourable
welcome. I will not chronicle the details of what followed. It is
sufficient to say that many hundreds of the people of Durban took
occasion to express their joy at my tiny pinch of triumph over the
Boers, and that their enthusiasm was another sincere demonstration of
their devotion to the Imperial cause, and their resolve to carry the war
to an indisputable conclusion. After an hour of turmoil, which I frankly
admit I enjoyed extremely, I escaped to the train, and the journey to
Pietermaritzburg passed very quickly in the absorbing occupation of
devouring a month's newpapers and clearing my palate from the evil taste
of the exaggerations of Pretoria by a liberal antidote of our own
versions. I rested a day at Government House, and enjoyed long
conversations with Sir Walter Hely-Hutchinson--the Governor under whose
wise administra