rs; but
were not cognisant, of course, in such weak moments, of the disinfecting
qualities of bottled vinegar; we did not then know that a portable cruet
formed part and parcel of each burgher's kit. It did not need a protest
from General Joubert against the use of lyddite to confirm our
impressions of what it could do. The local Press was alarmingly eloquent
on lyddite; we read not only of what it _could_ do, but consistent
accounts of what it had actually _done_. At a certain battle, for
example, a lyddite shell fell among seventy Boers; and when the smoke
cleared away only eight remained alive, seven of whom were asphyxiated
by the fumes! We were glad that one escaped. Many similar tales were
printed for our delectation, and our credulity--being of the siege
order--was pathetically fine.

In the afternoon we opened fire with our big gun. The Boers retaliated
with unusual fury, and, I am sorry to add, with unusual effect, for in
the duet, which lasted several hours, a missile killed Sergeant-Major
Moss and wounded six men. The death of Mr. Moss caused very general
regret; like many who had gone before him, he was a well-known townsman;
like others, too, he left a wife to mourn him. The body of a white lad
who had disappeared some weeks before was discovered on Saturday; and
these two additions brought up our total of deaths to forty-four. It may
be well to explain that the list included three or four natives. The
natives are human beings; but some people cannot see it.

So closed the fifty-sixth day of the siege. Two months had rolled by, at
traction engine speed. Some impatience manifested itself; the food was
all wrong. But we looked forward, and were sustained by the ultra-jolly
Christmas that would be ours. The few who had promised themselves an
Antipodean Yuletide in the frost--or slush--of merry England could not
keep their words. The most would have to be made of the coast towns.
What an exodus it would be! To sniff the salt air; to fight our battles
over again; to fondle the missing (gastric) links that would litter the
Christmas table! The "greater number" could not of course go far from
the Diamond City. But Modder River was near. There were the
time-honoured annual excursions to that modest watering-place and now
famous battlefield to excite the imagination, where "shells" could be
gathered of more historic value than the "common" ones by the sea.

CHAPTER IX

_Week ending 16th December, 1899_