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Title: The Boer concentration camps of Bermuda
Author: John A. Hassell
Release date: August 8, 2026 [eBook #79305]
Language: English
Original publication: New York: John A. Hassell, 1902
Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/79305
Credits: Tim Lindell, Hcx2012, and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This book was produced from images made available by the HathiTrust Digital Library.)
*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BOER CONCENTRATION CAMPS OF BERMUDA ***
[Illustration]
The Boer Concentration
Camps of Bermuda
By
JOHN A. HASSELL, M.E.
(_Late Captain of American Scouts in the Boer Army_)
[Illustration]
NEW YORK
JOHN A. HASSELL, M.E.
5 UNION SQUARE
INTRODUCTION
Authentic information received since this pamphlet has been in
preparation amply confirms the statements made herein. The English
press continues its insidious practise of praising unstintedly the
management of the prison camps. Those who think the statements of
the shameful conditions are exaggerated should compare them with
the information which at rare intervals comes directly from these
prisoners. Rev. F. S. Ballentine, of Philadelphia, who was inside the
Boer camps, practically confirms everything that is told in these pages
in an article in the _Outlook_ of November 9th. A letter sent to Boston
by one of the most prominent prisoners, Mr. Joubert Reitz, son of the
Secretary of State, and published in the _Boston Globe_ of November
13th, urgently asks for clothing and food. Reliable reports from these
sources should be more convincing than a hundred British commendations
to the contrary. An appeal to the benevolence of the American people is
so much more warranted because the Bermuda authorities do not seem to
favor local charity so much as they had the appearance of doing in the
beginning. The other day a Hamilton mob played havoc with the promoters
of domestic charity, and, with the connivance of the government, burnt
them in effigy. It now appears that the Governor of Bermuda refuses to
admit any second-hand clothing, ostensibly through fear of infection.
There is at present no report of an epidemic of a contagious disease
throughout the United States, and therefore this refusal seems a
subterfuge. The governor is no doubt alarmed over the sympathy aroused
in this country by previous appeals for the Boer prisoners.
To assist the Boer prisoners promptly the friends of those in
confinement will have to contribute new clothing, digestible food, like
condensed milk, and small tools, all of which can be of great use to
the four thousand prisoners.
The British government as well, in spite of the explicit article in
the Hague Conference providing for free entry for all articles for
prisoners, demand a duty of five per cent. on all articles sent to the
Boer prisoners. The Hague Conference provides in Chapter II., Article
XVI., that “gifts and relief in kind for prisoners of war shall be
admitted free of all duties of entry and others.”
The Boer Concentration Camps of Bermuda
Ever since the Boer prisoners of war were transported from South Africa
to the Bermuda Islands, glowing accounts of the salubrious condition
of the prison camps there have appeared periodically in the British
press, and the benevolent treatment accorded to their occupants has
been highly extolled. One of the London papers even stated that a great
number of prisoners expressed a desire to be allowed to return for the
purpose of aiding the King’s soldiers against their late compatriots.
These reports, having found their way into American papers, excited
suspicion in the minds of a few friends of the Boers here, as they
were entirely in conflict with the tale told by David Duplooy, the
plucky young Boer, who escaped last July and arrived in New York on
the steamship _Trinidad_.[1] After a consultation of these friends
in New York I was asked if I would undertake to learn the truth by
personal observation. As I had held a commission in the Boer army,
and had taken part in the present war, this proposal was somewhat
embarrassing and the undertaking rather hazardous. My suggestion that
a newspaper correspondent might be intrusted with it, at little or no
risk whatever, found no favor, as it was doubtful whether any one with
the avowed purpose of investigating would be permitted to enter the
camps; and on account of my acquaintance with the “Taal,” the South
African Dutch spoken by the Boers, it was thought best for me to go. My
friends’ entreaties and sympathy with my suffering comrades overcame
all hesitation, and in less than twenty-four hours I was resolved to
go. Armed with a passport, I secured passage on a steamer of the Quebec
Line sailing from pier 47, North River, New York, and with favorable
weather my mission was begun. The journey was uneventful, and on the
fourth morning the coveted islands hove in sight.
The Bermuda Islands, like some of the West Indian Islands--_e.g._, the
Bahamas--are formed by a ledge of coral, which, peeping out above the
surface of the ocean, forms five large and hundreds of small islands
and innumerable cliffs called “cays.” The five larger islands, St.
David’s, St. Georges, Main Island, Somerset, and Ireland, lie in one
stretch, assuming a shape which has been likened to a fish-hook,
the opening of which is toward the north. These large islands are
surrounded on all sides, and especially to the north, by innumerable
small islands, and in this way is formed a most effective fortification
against an attacking fleet, as they leave only one small channel along
the north shore by which the principal port can be reached. After
rounding the enormous northern reef with its miles of foaming breakers
we approached St. David’s lighthouse, the most northern point, where
the channel commences.
The Bermuda Islands, as a whole, have been widely advertised as the
land of eternal spring, with a luxuriant tropical vegetation, with
garlands of sweet-scented flowers and balmy breezes. When the steamer
glides along the north coast through the tortuous channel the first
impression of the tourist must be a rude disappointment. This part of
the coast is a barren, naked bluff, battered, washed, and corroded
by the high breakers, which carry off all vegetation, except some
weather-beaten, stunted cedars that bend their trunks all in the
direction of the prevailing winds. Only here and there a green patch
interrupts the monotony. The scene, however, changes as soon as the
ship rounds Spanish Point to enter the circle of the fish-hook, a
lovely land-locked lake called Great Sound, the eastern corner of which
is our point of destination, Hamilton Harbor. Now, indeed, a foretaste
is given to us of what tropical luxuriance means--stately palms,
swaying their green plumes in the sea-breeze, orange trees, groves of
flowering oleander and pomegranate embowering white-roofed cottages and
whitewashed houses. Such is the picture which greets the view of the
Northern tourist.
Being installed in one of the numerous hotels, I had now time to
look around and mature a plan by which I might attain my purpose of
inspecting personally the points of greatest interest. There are
excellent roads and pleasant walks and by-paths leading through all the
larger islands, which are so near together that bridges make of them
a single island. The white, calcareous soil and rock yield superior
material for their construction, and, together with the dazzling
white houses and huts, form an agreeable contrast to the dark-green
foliage. When you stroll along these private gardens, public parks,
and open fields, with their palms, bananas, sweet roses, and lilies,
you soon perceive that this is an artificial make-up; all the tropical
vegetation has been imported, and only thrives under the special care
of the owner of the ground. Wherever vegetation is left to shift for
itself the only indigenous tree, the red cedar, springs up in more or
less thriving specimens. The soil is extremely porous, and while it
allows no formation of stagnant pools or lakes, it produces no grassy
lawn to cover the surface of the rock, nor is any well or spring to
be found on the islands. The population is entirely dependent upon
rain-water collected in cisterns.
[Illustration: PRISONERS OF WAR ABOVE SIXTY YEARS OF AGE]
My cautious inquiries about the prison camps met with a sorry
disappointment. With a certain shyness some of the small islands with
which Great Sound is dotted were pointed out to me, but the naked eye
from the mainland could not distinguish anything going on on their
surface. They are entirely out of the familiar routes of local traffic,
and the average visitor would not know of their existence unless made
specially acquainted by some native. The entire circuit of Great Sound
is guarded by a powerful system of forts, towers, and batteries, in
which the majority of the Bermuda garrison--more than two thousand
men--is stationed. Besides a number of men-of-war anchored in the
harbor, there were three special warships detailed near the prison
islands, which kept up a close watch during the day, and which also
played incessant streams of electric search-lights upon the islands and
the surrounding waters during the night. Indeed, four thousand of the
most dangerous outlaws could not be guarded more effectively than these
young children and old men.
Every citizen approached on the subject of the Boer prisoners pretended
not to know anything, and the existence of martial law, under which the
prison islands are held, and copies of which were posted everywhere,
explained fully why all disclaimed any knowledge. The regulations
established for the safe guarding of the Boer prisoners include among
other provisions those which follow:
_Martial Law._--Martial law is in force within the territory of
Marshall’s, Burtt’s, Darrell’s, Tucker’s, and Port’s islands. The
following are some of the offences against martial law:
1. Being within the martial-law zone without a pass;
2. Being within, or near, the Boer laagers without a pass giving
admittance to the enclosure;
3. Communicating in any way with prisoners of war except through the
commandant or the Assistant Adjutant-General for Prisoners of War;
4. Refusal to show a pass upon demand. One regulation provides that
“passes for the islands can be obtained only from the A. A. General for
Prisoners of War, and they will be granted only when good reason can be
given.”
Now, did I have good reason to get permission for a visit to the
prison islands? To seize the bull by the horns, I went straightway
to the Assistant Adjutant-General for Prisoners of War, Colonel
Quayle-Jones, telling him that, though an American, I had a great
interest in refuting those apparent untruths which were in circulation
through a certain part of the United States press. The colonel who,
after fighting with his Warwickshire regiment in South Africa, had
been detailed with the prisoners to Bermuda, to act as guard of their
former opponents, proved to be a civil, good-natured officer, but his
categorical reply was: “We desire to avoid anything sensational, and
give no passes.” Indeed, this was, as I learned from other parties, his
stereotypic answer, and to my knowledge no passes were given at that
time. A reconnoitering excursion which I attempted in a boat toward
the prison islands was cut short rather unexpectedly. After hiring a
boat, ostensibly for fishing, I let it drift with the outgoing tide
toward Darrell’s Island, situated near the middle of Great Sound. The
boatman pointed out to me the buoys anchored round the island, warning
me not to allow the boat to drift inside the line; but we had not
approached the line yet when a sharp sound of “zip!” with a splash in
the water and the peculiar, well-known “coo-ca” report of a Lee-Metford
rifle left no doubt that we had been sighted from the island, and that
the sentinel was not particular in respecting the line of the buoys.
The boatman did not wait for my order, but with all his might pulled
back toward the main shore, that he might not share the fate of a man
who in a similar situation had been shot through his wrist and had been
taken to the hospital.
Nothing was left to me, then, but to make, as a “tourist in search of
health,” the round of the islands, talking here and listening there,
and always, like Mr. Micawber, waiting for something to turn up.
I found that the better elements of the population, white as well
as colored, were in greater sympathy with the poor prisoners than
their well-concealed feelings would make one surmise. They had from
the beginning protested against the transportation of such an army
of prisoners to their small islands, foreseeing from the inadequate
means of the Bermuda Islands to what annoyance the prisoners and
they themselves might be subjected. There is a traditional spirit of
independence in these old settlers which was clearly demonstrated
during our Revolutionary War, when they openly sympathized with the
efforts of the American patriots to throw off the British rule, and
materially aided General Washington with large stores of powder, which
was used with great effect at the siege of Boston. And although the
present inhabitants are loyal British subjects, their emotions are
not controlled or dictated at Downing Street, London, by the Colonial
Secretary, the Right Honorable Joseph Chamberlain. A movement was
started among the civilians to provide the destitute prisoners with
any of old cast-off things that a household could spare. I found in
St. George’s Parish a poster which, with the sanction of Colonel
Quayle-Jones, called for clothing, shoes, hats, chairs, shirts,
caps, coffee, milk, sugar, nails, tools, tin pails--in fact, every
contribution was acceptable that could be made use of by the poorer
men and boys in confinement. These public appeals resulted in the
collection of a goodly number of articles extremely useful to the
prisoners; but how can it be expected that a population of seventeen
thousand, ninety per cent. of which can be classed among the poor
themselves, should provide only for the most crying wants of four
thousand almost naked prisoners? And in spite of the praiseworthy
exertions of some of the wealthier men--who, for instance, furnished
boards for shelter and the building of huts--these efforts must fall
decidedly short, because of the entirely disproportionate number of
donors and recipients. Even for their supply of drinking-water the
prisoners, or, rather, the British government for them, had to rely
entirely upon private charity. The summer had been unusually dry, and
while machines for condensing sea-water, sent over from England, were
out of order, or while nobody understood how to work them, the stores
of the government had run dry, so that private owners had to be
appealed to for help.
Nor must it be understood that there was no sympathy for the
unfortunate Africanders among the official British class. Although all
utterances were most cautious and guarded, the better feelings of the
heart could not be entirely suppressed, and some good services to their
poor antagonists were done on the sly. Even the Governor’s niece, Miss
Katherine Elwes, could not help sending a fervent appeal for assistance
to Mr. Robert B. Roosevelt, of Lotus Lake, Long Island. This appeal
has been copied by several American papers. The most trumped-up and
heralded movement, however, the Association for Providing Recreation
for the Boer Prisoners of War, was a decided failure, or, rather, a
cruel mockery. Its work consisted in organizing picnic parties to the
prison islands, where, while indulging in their own sumptuous repasts
and staring from a proper distance at the prisoners of war like so
many encaged animals, they eloquently attempted to make proselytes of
the hungry young Boers by extolling the virtues of Chamberlain and
Kitchener and the generosity of His Majesty the King. A kindly looking
officer was mean enough to interrupt this benevolent performance by the
rude remark that the poor little innocents should never have been taken
from their mothers. Another office of the association was to arrange
games for the entertainment of the prisoners, and a game between the
eleven at Bermuda and the Boer eleven was advertised for a long time.
Such a game has never been played, nor was there any possible chance
for it, since, as we shall see later on, there was no room in the camps
for such games, nor was any Boer ever allowed on parole to leave the
enclosure. The only diversion which has ever taken place in one of the
camps was a potato race between the boys on Darrell’s Island.
As to the officers, there are individual men who, ashamed of the system
they must help to execute, are humane enough to alleviate clandestinely
some of the most acute suffering, but their strict orders from London
do not give them much scope for allowing their hearts to command their
actions. The more liberal of the officers are undoubtedly those who
have seen active service against their present wards, a fact which
has been borne out by their conduct in England. Considering that a
chivalrous man always appreciates the valor and fighting qualities
of a gallant foe, this can astonish none. Nor do they forget that
their own men were invariably treated by the Boers with the greatest
consideration, even friendliness, whenever they had fallen into their
hands.
Tommy Atkins, the private soldier, is not altogether a very amiable
prison warden, nor does he take great pains to conceal his true
feeling. It angers him that after all the chasing and hunting over
the bleak veldt, after losing many a good friend and comrade, he has
to pace up and down, loaded with a heavy rifle and cartridge-belt,
to guard these very causes of all his troubles. He was promised that
these “dirty beggars” would run away at the mere sight of him, and that
inside of three months he not only would make a triumphal entry into
Pretoria, but soon after would receive a still greater ovation upon
his return to London. Now, instead of carousing with his friends at
home, he is chained by the unending war to a lonely, rocky, sunburnt
island, where he has ample time to compare his scanty pay with the
enormous daily war expense shouldered upon his country. Consequently,
he begrudges the prisoners their food paid for by the government. He
even figures up that it cost $200 apiece to transport the “pig-headed
beggars” to Bermuda, and that it will cost as much again to take them
back to South Africa. Once in a while human nature asserts itself in an
individual, and he admits that they are keeping him hard up in tobacco,
“as a feller can’t help feeling sorry for them after all, but we won’t
let any one escape alive--not we.” When we talked about the children
in camp they trumpeted the old hypocritical cant, which pretends that
transportation was necessary to save the children from starving, as
their devastated country was entirely unfit to nourish them. But who
devastated it, and thus deprived the people of all means of subsistence?
As a whole, then, although I got a good many opinions in conversing
with different classes of people, there was nobody who could or would
advise me how to get nearer my main object. At last, however, my good
luck, which had not forsaken me in Africa, came in time to the rescue,
and after all my waiting something turned up. The general talk at the
hotel table almost inevitably drifted to the Boer war and the Boer
prisoners. One day the conversation became more heated, when some
one complained of instances of violence to which Bermudians had been
subjected by the military element since the proclamation of martial
law. I remember a particular instance of outrage to which a well-known
resident, Frederick Snape, had been the victim at the hands of some
negro soldiers. Another of the guests, whom I correctly guessed to be
an official, undertook to defend the measures, but in such a lukewarm,
half-hearted way that his disgust rather than his approval was
evident. Approaching this man after meals I succeeded in ingratiating
myself into his good graces, and found him a high-souled gentleman
who felt deeply for the Boers. He was willing to help in ameliorating
their lot in any way which would not compromise him publicly. Referring
to the rumors in American papers about the treatment of the Boer
prisoners, I offered my services to confirm or disprove them if I were
permitted to visit the camps. He assured me again that no passes were
given out by the authorities, but promised to introduce me to a friend,
an army officer, who could be instrumental in smuggling me into camp.
An interview was arranged, and I was admitted. Without going into
details I may add that, thanks to the abject servility in which the
common British soldier is held by his superior, I got a chance to visit
two more of these islands.
[Illustration: ONE OF THE OLDEST PRISONERS OF WAR--SEVENTY-SIX YEARS OF
AGE]
[Illustration: A GROUP OF UITLANDERS--PRISONERS OF WAR]
[Illustration]
[Illustration: PRISONERS OF WAR BELOW FIFTEEN YEARS OF AGE]
The prisoners are confined on five small islands situated in close
proximity in the southern part of Great Sound--Marshall’s, Darrell’s
Burtt’s, Morgan’s, and Tucker’s islands, while Port’s Island, a
little to the north of Darrell’s, is used for hospital purposes. A
short journey on the duty boat carried me from Hamilton to Darrell’s
Island, a distance of approximately a mile; at any rate, you can not
distinguish anything on the island from the Hamilton wharf, nor are
the prisoners able to see anything that goes on at Hamilton. Darrell’s
Island, which, with its steep, rocky shores, has a temporary wharf
for the tug-boat to land at, is a perfect type of these numerous
islets, which are grouped either in Great Sound or surround the larger
islands on the outside. They are left without much cultivation, and
consequently display no vegetation but the native scrub cedar. In vain
we would look here for the tropical attractions so conspicuous in the
surroundings of Hamilton, and even the cedar trees, deriving but scanty
means of sustenance from the compact lime rock, have a hard struggle
for existence. Their stunted and gnarled forms abundantly prove it, and
their bare, needly limbs give no shade to the heated stony floor. The
rock is easily corroded by the action of the elements, and exhibits
a honeycombed surface with sharp, craggy protuberances, which tear
shoes and boots to shreds in a short time--a shoemaker among wealthy
customers would make a fine living on these islands. There are flowers,
too, in these garden prisons--none, however, but the yellow blossoms of
the prickly-pear or cactus; unluckily, it is armed with sharp thorns
which pierce the naked foot of the unwary and cause painful sores.
The prison islands range from about seven to fifteen acres in extent,
and have no higher elevation than eight or ten feet above the level
of the water. Any lively breeze, dashing the breakers against the
shore rocks, carries the briny spray across the islands; and residents
assured me that the north and northwestern storms, prevailing through
the winter, have the full sweep through Great Sound, and often wash
clear over the surface of the islands. About one-third of each island
is partitioned off by a triple network of barbed wire. The latter
stretches across from water’s edge to water’s edge, leaving the most
desirable part, which is studded with trees, for the use of the
small garrison, while the prisoners are huddled together in the more
contracted and exposed area, about one thousand on five--nay, on
three--acres of ground. The prisoners are cautioned not to lean against
the wire fence, or even to touch it, as the sentries pacing up and
down on the outside have the order to shoot without warning. There is
no joking with this order. In another camp a young man, Philip Cronje,
while he was conducting a Christian Endeavor prayer-meeting, stepped
back and unintentionally touched the wire fence. He was instantly shot
dead from outside by the sentry. The sanitary arrangements are placed
on flatboats anchored at the water’s edge, which are liable to float
off with any heavy sea; in fact, they have been carried off and dashed
to pieces. The drinking-water was brought in tanks from the mainland,
but is now distilled from sea-water--a questionable improvement, as
it is still warmer and flatter to the taste than cistern-water. For
washing purposes there is, of course, nothing but salt water at the
disposal of the prisoners.
To return to Darrell’s Island, it is considered the most important,
as here the flower of the Boer army is kept in close confinement--the
able-bodied men who were captured with their arms. Thanks to the
arrangement of my new friend, I was not asked for a pass, and could
stroll around unmolested. When I passed through the iron gate I
perceived that divine service was just going on--a most propitious
moment for me to walk around without attracting attention. The service
was conducted by the Reverend Albertyn, a genial clergyman from Cape
Colony, who, sacrificing an incumbency of $2,000 per annum, volunteered
with his brave wife to follow their Dutch friends into captivity,
where they are tolerated on soldier’s rations. These good people are
not recognized by the English clergy; they are shunned by most of the
Bermudians, and but few residents there treat them openly as worthy
Christians. The authorities regard their self-abnegation with distrust
and envy, although Mrs. Albertyn is a great help and comfort to the
children. Their good services will be cut short; they have to return
home, and a young unmarried man will take their place. The prisoners
were intently listening to the sermon with a devotion which is not
equaled outside of a South African congregation. And even without a
clergyman they find great consolation in singing their hymns and in
fervently praying for hours. “I tell you they can pray,” as one of the
sentries bluntly said. “They pray with their mouths and they pray with
their hearts just as sincerely, until we outside get tired of it and
call out, ‘Oh, gag yourselves!’”
When I passed a remark on the ragged and unclean, if not to say filthy,
condition of all the prisoners, the Tommies answered: “Well, it is
no wonder. You ought to see their homes in South Africa--as clean as
a pin--but now some of them have been captured six, others twelve,
and some even eighteen months ago, and they never had a chance to
change their clothing. Do you expect them to be ironclad? To be sure,
they were used to dress in a different way. There are a good many
well-to-do and educated men among them--doctors, lawyers, officials,
and tradesmen; but how can our government keep them in good clothing,
too? They are welcome to buy clothes from the government if they have
money. Some had to cut up their blankets to cover their nakedness. Once
in a while we offered them some old piece of khaki, but do you think
those blokes would touch it? They were republicans, they said, and
did not dream of donning the king’s livery. They even fight against
their dead being covered with the British Union Jack at burial. That is
downright impudence. Those stubborn, thick-headed Boers are as tough as
a knotty oak stick. You may break them in two, but you can’t bend them
one inch. This winter they will catch it. We did not expect to keep
them here all winter, but the war will not end, and we can’t shift them
now. Dysentery and enteric fever are unwelcome guests; we had enough
of it at the Cape, and it has commenced here. And, you know, winter in
Bermuda is no summer. Those miserable rainy days will soak them before
spring, and will finish what is left of them. I am afraid there will
not be stone holes enough for them.”[2]
The picture of Mr. Spansen Van Vuren, an old man of seventy-five years,
standing at a hand-lathe on Tucker’s Island, gives an average sample of
their ragged state. Most of the boys, and also of the men, are without
shoes or socks.
On Darrell’s Island there are two of the most dangerous enemies of
the British empire, Piet Cronje and Johannes Van de Veldt, neither of
whom is quite eight years of age. It makes your heart bleed to hear
these little mites asking again and again when they shall return to
their mothers, and there are one hundred and eleven more of their
companions under sixteen years on this island alone.
The tents, white canvas bell tents, each for seven occupants, are
erected on a nearly treeless spot, so close together that it is
almost impossible to walk between them, but the wind gets in between
and blows them down like card houses. How they will resist the
winter gales is hard to understand. The prisoners receive the same
rations as the private soldiers--that is, one pound of meat and one
pound of bread a day, some coffee and sugar, and some potatoes. They
prepare their meals themselves on field cooking-stoves erected for
that purpose. This sounds very ample, but the quality of the food
furnished is mostly inferior. I know very well that Bermuda butchers
do not buy the best meat, even if they have the chance; and how
should the best material find its way into the prison camps? A letter
from a prisoner, published in the _Boston Globe_ of November 13th,
asks for contributions to their table, as they are entirely underfed.
The food is monotony itself, and an absolute loss of appetite is
the result of too little change in nourishment. The British soldier
is compelled to pay a certain sum into the mess for the purpose of
making a variation possible, but the prisoners have no money to
spend for such a purpose. What little money they still have or make
by selling self-made toys and souvenirs is taken hold of by their
caterer, a wealthy merchant of Hamilton. The Boers complain bitterly
that this man, who has a monopoly of the prisoners’ canteen and
is the only tradesman they are allowed to deal with, takes undue
advantage of them. Indeed, this honorable merchant seems to imagine
that the gold-mines of Johannesburg, upon which he could not lay
his hands, have come to him to deposit their last output into his
spacious pocket. For a shirt which sells for one shilling sixpence
he charges three shillings sixpence, and for a pair of shoes which
is regularly bought at four shillings sixpence he demands even
twelve shillings sixpence. A change of diet, and especially a more
digestible one, is needed for the old men and the youngest children.
How do they pass their time? They attend to cleaning and putting
their tents in order and prepare their plain meals. Besides, they try
to whittle all kinds of trinkets for sale to the tourists at Hamilton
or generous friends in the United States. They have a certain
adroitness for such work, but are in great want of knives and tools.
There is still ample time to spare, and reading or writing would be
a suitable pastime. Are they not allowed to have any reading-matter?
Oh, yes; but it takes a long time before Mr. Brown, the official
censor, has passed all the stuff. At the request of the prisoners,
Postma and Pitton, the Dutch Consul of New York, shipped on October
5th two boxes of Dutch literature, mostly religious books, to the
prisoners of war at Bermuda. They arrived in due time, but up to
this date they are waiting; the censor has been unable to weed out
the noxious stuff. Even American books and papers do not find great
favor; they might spread ideas too free for a man in confinement,
or they might contain some news of the South African War which the
British authorities think it unwise to have the prisoners read. Even
school-books which the authorities solicited for the young element
must not be American, but purely and intrinsically English, that the
young mind may not imbibe republican principles. Is it conceivable
that a government can be so naive and simple as to expect to make
converts by such childish measures! There is nothing like lack of
mental employment to weigh upon the mind and create despondency or
produce entire collapse. No better method than this was ever invented
by a jailer to irritate, harass, or chastise those entrusted to his
care. It is true, there was a chance offered to them not only to work
but even to earn a few pennies, and they refused it. It happened in
this way. When, once a week, a coal barge discharges its small cargo
on the prison islands the prisoners were asked to cart the coal off
at the regal price of one penny an hour. They refused to do so,
because they calculated the government having to pay half a shilling
to their own sailors would save so many dollars to carry on the war
at their home.[3] At the same time, they claim that neither their
prison fare is sufficient to sustain a laboring man nor are they able
to undertake such dirty work, as they have no chance to change nor to
wash their clothes properly.
What has been said as to the conditions on Darrell’s Island is true
in regard to Burtt’s Island, where Mr. Hauptfleisch is commandant
of the camp, and of Morgan’s Island. The prisoners on Tucker’s
Island are treated with more consideration. They are mostly
“uphanders”--that is, men who either gave themselves up or signed a
so-called “peace paper,” a declaration of allegiance to the British
government. A number of children and most of the old men who were
unable to take active part in fighting are also confined on this
spot. They receive certain favors, and have the first choice of
the goods donated to the whole. This is done by the authorities to
reward the good children and to coax others into submission. Their
commandant, though never an officer in the Boer army, is young man,
William Schonken. A characteristic incident connected with the
arrival of the transport _Montrose_ deserves to be mentioned. When
the vessel had disembarked her passengers on Morgan’s Island, which
is within hailing distance of Tucker’s Island, anxious inquiries
were made by the uphanders concerning relatives at home or in the
concentration camps. Shouting across the water, the new-comers soon
discovered that their neighbors were uphanders (also called “Khaki
Boers”), and since then, though the inquiries continued, not an
answer echoed back.
[Illustration]
[Illustration: BOER PRISONERS TRANSPORTED FOR LIFE]
The London authorities have done their utmost to humble the prisoners
and to “take the starch out of them,” but they are as undaunted
as ever. It is not only their pluck which makes them endure all
hardships; it is still more the confidence in the justice of their
cause and trust in God which renders them absolutely sure that in
the end everything will be righted. Thrice daily in their simple
faith they lift their souls to the Lord and thank Him from the bottom
of their hearts for any success they have achieved, but they just
as humbly accept a reverse as a well-deserved punishment. With the
same tenacity, the foreign contingent, the Uitlanders, cling to
the Boer cause. There is quite a colony of Americans, Englishmen,
Scotchmen, Irishmen, Germans and Hollanders, Protestants, Catholics
and Israelites, in the same sad plight as the Africanders, but they
consider themselves burghers, and are just as spirited and determined
to see it through.
In sharp contrast to the favored prisoners of Tucker’s is a little
group of men of the same island who can be plainly seen from the
mainland, as they are confined on a perfectly bare spot. Their tents
are enclosed in a separate wire fence, and their mode of living
somewhat resembles the notorious treatment accorded to Captain
Dreyfus on Devil’s Island. They are two Boer lieutenants--a German,
Horn, and a Frenchman, De Courville--who are said to have attempted a
mutiny on board the steamship _Armenian_. They were put in irons, and
are still kept so during the night. They are allowed to walk up and
down with their guards, but not to enter into any conversation. Three
other men in the same enclosure are Alfred Martinus Joubert, of South
Africa, and two young married men of Rotterdam, George and Hendrik
Indermauer, who are treated with the same severity. Late in September
they made an unsuccessful attempt to escape from Darrell’s Island.
Although reaching the mainland and eluding their pursuers for three
days, they finally had to give themselves up and are now chained
every night in solitary confinement.
Still another body of thirty-seven men is isolated in the military
prison on St. George’s, wearing the prison garb, the “Broad Arrow” of
the government property on their backs. In fact, these unfortunate
men are as human chattels of the government. They are dubbed rebels,
or convicts, and are sentenced to prison for life. They are either
natives of Cape Colony or had signed the “peace paper,” a declaration
of allegiance, which they assert never to have read. It would lead
too far to explain how the Dutch element of Cape Colony, outnumbering
by far the English settlers, always considered itself as one and
the same with their brothers in the Transvaal, with whom they are
connected by frequent intermarriage and relationship. Let us quote no
better authority on this subject than Mr. Chamberlain himself. In a
speech made in April, 1896, he stated: “These Dutch fellow-subjects
in the Cape Colony are just as loyal to the throne and to the British
connection as, let me say, our French Canadian fellow-subjects of
the Dominion of Canada. But, at the same time, they very naturally
feel that they are of the same blood as the Dutchmen in the two
republics, and they sympathize with their compatriots when they think
they are subject, or are likely to be subject, to any injustice, or
to the arbitrary exercise of force.” They found it but natural to
stand side by side with their kinsmen, but when captured some had to
suffer the ignominious death of Nathan Hale, while the sentence of
others was commuted to penal servitude and transportation for life.
These thirty-seven unfortunates, eight of them married, are shut up
in solitary, damp cells in a high-walled dungeon. They are allowed to
communicate with no one nor to receive any donations tendered to them
by kind-hearted friends.
When we see and hear of all the indignities heaped upon the Boer
prisoners of Bermuda, any civilized Christian may ask in astonishment
to what end serve all these cruelties. Is the British government not
satisfied to remove the captives seven thousand miles from their
country, to confine them on an island from which escape is well-nigh
an impossibility? Must they be treated like felons in strict
isolation? The wit of the average Englishman seems to be incapable of
grasping the difference between a prisoner or convict and a prisoner
of war. And, moreover, the larger part of these people are not even
prisoners of war. They have been kidnapped from their peaceful
occupations because they had, in British eyes, the misfortune of
being born of Boer parents, or had committed the crime of tilling
and cultivating as Boer farmers a land which, but for their toil and
labor, would still be a barren desert. Notwithstanding the English
allegations that most of the children or old men were captured in
active contest, it ought to be stated that an accurate counting among
the Boers themselves revealed the fact that a large majority of the
old and young people--in fact, about ninety per cent. of them--had
been snatched away for transportation from their homes or fields.
To sum up, what is the situation of the Boer prisoners of war as I
found it in Bermuda?
Four thousand persons, with more than twenty per cent. of old men
and children, huddled together on insufficient ground, absolutely
excluded from all communication, although escape is impossible,
insufficiently housed, scantily fed, left without clothing to face
a raw winter, and tortured by lack of employment. Can there be
another name used for these camps than that of the notorious infernos
created in Cuba by General Weyler, called by the euphemistic title of
“reconcentrado camps”?
Nobody doubts the right of a power engaged in war to transport its
captives taken in battle to safe places in order to prevent their
escape, but every principle of international law is opposed to
the same being perpetrated on peaceable non-combatants; and what
object can be served by adding torture to confinement? Is it the
expression of British blind wrath over the unexpected prolongation of
the dreamt-of military promenade to Pretoria, or is it the outcome
of a well-calculated system? “Though this be madness, yet there’s
method in’t.” Without question the government could alleviate some
of the hardships of its prisoners. The prisoners of Bermuda could
be scattered over the whole island group, or at least be brought to
habitable parts of the large islands, where proper shelter could be
provided. But why all this secrecy? Why this shutting up and hushing
up? Why are not even the officers permitted to go about on parole, as
has been the use of civilized nations at all times? Did the escape
of the single lucky and plucky Duplooy prompt these severe measures?
There has never been a war during which not an occasional flight of
a prisoner has taken place; and from the standpoint of the jailer,
and as far as difficulties of escape are concerned, the Bermuda
group is an ideal prison. Well, they might come in contact with
outsiders; some tourist might catch a glimpse of the prison camps,
and the shameful short-comings of the English mismanagement might be
divulged to the world at large, or, as Quayle-Jones said, something
sensational might leak out. The British Ministry does not want any
changes; it does not wish to ameliorate at all the lot of their
prisoners, for it is bound to a policy of extermination. What else
does the frightful mortality, reported from the concentration camps
of South Africa, imply but the coldly premeditated annihilation of a
heroic race of white Christians? Moreover, members of the government,
after utterly failing to conquer the Boers by force of arms, have
repeatedly avowed with cynical frankness that the only way to compel
them to lay down their arms is by making war upon their women and
children--that is, after deliberately destroying their means of
livelihood and sweeping them into camps under the hypocritical
pretext to keep them from starving, the authorities murder them by
torture of hunger and cold, in order to compel the submission of
De Wet and Botha. The whole civilized world stands aghast at this
massacre of young human life; and, at last, even the English clergy
joins in the universal protest against the wholesale murder.[4] At
the reported rate of mortality all the reconcentrados would die out
within four years, and the members of the British government, men of
such moral perversion, like Chamberlain, or of senile decrepitude,
like Salisbury, would chuckle with delight, for, to use the latter’s
diplomatic language, “they are determined to remove their neighbors
so effectually that it will never require doing again.”
Can we do nothing to frustrate this fiendish resolution? An
active interference is out of question, and even the diplomacy of
all governments has long ago abandoned its futile efforts since
McKinley’s offer of friendly mediation was promptly refused by
England. Nevertheless, after getting rid of Weylerism in Cuba,
must we tolerate, without even a protest, the establishment of
Chamberlainism and Kitchenerism at our very doors?
It is to be highly regretted that there is so much indifference in
the United States in regard to the future of the two South African
republics. The interest and enthusiasm excited during the first
months of the wonderful exploits of the citizen soldiers has given
way to apathy. The systematic misstatements and vilifications by the
British press, which for years previous to the war were the source
of much prejudice against the simple farmer population of South
Africa, have again been launched with redoubled force into the press
of the whole world, and have found, without criticism, a too-willing
reception by the American public; and yet the heroic struggle of the
two little republics deserves the candid admiration of our people
more than that of any other nation. Our forefathers went to war
for less weighty reasons and fought through the same hardships,
though against smaller odds and with the aid of a powerful ally. Is
it possible that our people have forgotten the storm of indignation
which swept over the United States when Senator Proctor gave out his
report with regard to the reconcentrado camps of Cuba? The billows
of rage rose high at that time, and it would not have needed the
destruction of the _Maine_ to kindle the torch of war. Why do we not
in this case insist upon an investigation by some one in authority?
Was it, then, only because Spaniards were the perpetrators, and
because we credited them alone with an intimate acquaintance with the
rack and all the implements of the Inquisition? Why, the reports of
Miss Hobhouse and other impartial English witnesses have demonstrated
that our Anglo-Saxon cousins are no less shrewd and inventive than
Torquemada himself. Their methods, though more hypocritical, are more
sweeping and thorough. It took the Inquisition years to slaughter
the hecatombs of their victims for the glory of God. Chamberlain
and Kitchener, however, with the devastation of the country and the
concentration camps, accomplish it in so many months for the glory of
the British empire.
Every one knows that millions--nay, the vast majority of our
citizens--are in warm sympathy with the brave champions of
independence in South Africa, and that it needs nothing but an
initiatory step by somebody to release the pent-up feeling and give
expression to the unanimous opinion of thousands. Why not, then,
appeal to our chosen representatives, our members of Congress,
members of State legislatures, or municipal authorities, to declare
openly and in proper language our abhorrence of the barbarous methods
employed by the British government in warfare and of the horrible
massacres perpetrated by the same among their so-called prisoners of
war. A mere declaration of sympathy on the part of our authorities
would be of immense weight. A petition advocating these principles is
at present circulated throughout the United States, and every citizen
who not only abhors the cruelties of an unjust war but who still more
despises the base methods practised on old men, innocent women and
children in the prison camps, ought to put his signature to such a
petition.
While this agitation is going on, let us not forget, however, that
there are more pressing duties requiring immediate action--that there
are thousands of destitute prisoners of war almost within hailing
distance of our coast who appeal to us for protection against the
vicissitudes of an inclement winter, who without our prompt relief
might duplicate in our neighborhood the terrible death-rate of the
South African camps. A supply of clothing and digestible food is
urgently needed.
Let us remember, when a chilly northwest wind, with rain and sleet,
drives us into our warm and comfortable houses, that the same blast
may fly across the ocean and chill four thousand naked prisoners to
the marrow. Many a boy, many an old man may be stricken to death, but
his spirit will be unbroken like that of the old patriarch who died
in their camp last summer. His two sons had been killed, but to his
grandson who still is fighting in Africa he sent his parting message:
“Keep on fighting for freedom. Never surrender! Never! Never!”
[Illustration: PHOTOGRAPH SENT HOME BY AN ENGLISH LADY FROM THE BOER
WOMEN AND CHILDREN’S CAMP AT BLOEMFONTEIN
She writes: “Lizzie Van Zyl, about 8 years old--one of our little
skeletons. The legs are out of proportion. Several have been emaciated
like this. I fancy the food and the great heat of the tents doesn’t
suit them. It is piteous to see the children.”]
_Any profit derived from the sale of this pamphlet will be delivered
to the_
=BOER RELIEF FUND=
_CHAS. D. PIERCE, Trustee and Treas._
=136 Liberty Street=
=New York=
FOOTNOTES:
[1] Captain Fraser, of the Bermuda steamship _Trinidad_, has published
in _Pearson’s Magazine_ for October, 1901, under the title of “A
Garden Prison,” an article in which he pictures the Bermuda Islands
as a veritable paradise, and tries to create the impression that the
prisoners are foolish to escape from such a delightful place. The
good Captain himself had the misfortune to unwittingly aid Duplooy in
his escape, and his publication was evidently inspired to serve as an
humble atonement. Even the photographs accompanying the article are
apt to be misleading, as they were all taken before the arrival of the
prisoners; and the picture of the camp on Darrell’s Island, _e.g._,
does not represent the Boer’s camp, which is decidedly more dreary
and barren. Compare the picture of a real camp on the cover of this
pamphlet.
[2] There is not sufficient soil in Bermuda to bury the dead; they are
placed in cavities of the rock, where, by the influence of sea-water,
etc., bodies are said to decay rapidly.
[3] There are evidently fine jurists among these prisoners who know the
articles of the Hague Peace Conference by heart. Article VI. of this
document says that “work done for the State shall be paid for according
to the tariff in force for soldiers of the national army employed on
similar tasks.”
[4] An authentic picture of the misery in one of the South African
concentration camps is shown on the inside of the cover. It is a
great consolation to the English press that, according to the latest
Blue Book, the causes of the appalling mortality in the South African
concentration camps are fully established. They are the dirty habits
and ignorance of the Boers, and their distrust of the British surgeons.
The only thing unexplained in this splendid exposition is: why did
not their dirty habits and ignorance kill all the Boers before they
came under the benevolent guidance of the British authorities? Why, on
the contrary, were they able to raise families, which in number and
vigor excel those of any Christian nation? Least of all, the Boers
may be blamed for their distrust of the British army surgeons. One of
these amiable brutes suggested to the reporter of an Austrian paper
that the best treatment for the occupants of the camps would be to
inoculate them with the plague bacillus. He undoubtedly deserves to
be kept in alcohol as a curiosity. But if we are merely guided by the
authority of an out-and-out Englishman, Mr. Mortimer Menpes, in his
“War Impressions,” a man who pretends to have nothing but the highest
praise for the surgeons, the medical men were principally occupied
with photographing and looting. This interesting activity, no doubt,
left them little time for their proper duties, and may explain the low
esteem in which they are held by the Boers, as well as by the medical
profession outside of England.
Transcriber’s Notes
Italic text is denoted by _underscores_.
Perceived typographical errors have been silently corrected.
On Pg 6, two occurrences of “ostentatiously” have been corrected to
“ostensibly”.
Illustrations have been moved nearer to the text to which they refer.
Footnotes have been moved to the end of the text.
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