Read Online At the Fireside--Volume 1 by Roger Webster - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Roger Webster
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from Schweizer-Reneke, which he also used for grazing and fattening his purloined cattle. This area is still known as Diewedraai.
A gunrunning exploit of his, into Basutoland, is well worth the telling. In 1871 this country, at the request of King Moshweshwe, had been taken under the protection of the British Crown. But the proud Basuto people had in no sense been conquered. They were still ruled by their King and almost every man possessed a rifle. In 1880, after the Zulu War, the Cape Government, fearing this large force of armed tribesmen, tried to disarm them and many rose in rebellion. The so-called Gun War ensued and, after three years and an expenditure of £4 500 000, it reached an inconclusive end. The rebels were âdefeatedâ, but allowed to retain their weapons, with a strict embargo on new importations. Inevitably, it became the ambition of every Basuto to possess an illicit firearm. They were all prepared to pay a premium and this set of circumstances was just right for our man.
Having secured a large number of Snider rifles, muzzle-loaders and soft-nosed bullets, along with a quantity of powder, Scotty trekked across the Free State, to Ficksburg, near the Basutoland border. He hid his wagons in the bushes close to the road and boldly rode up to the frontier alone. The Veldkornet guarding the border with a handful of men hospitably offered him a cup of coffee. After gaining the manâs confidence, Scotty said, âLook, Meneer. I have some very important information for you. I know that there is a lot of gunrunning taking place, and I have found out that Scotty Smith is the main culprit. Whatâs more, I will show you how he does it! As a matter of fact, I have had a tip that he has just run a cargo into Basutoland, and they have not yet been collected. Heâs hiding them in a drift on the Caledon River and they are to be collected tonight.â
The officer became very excited. âCan you show me the place?â
âYesâ, Scotty replied. âItâs about twenty kilometres south of here. I donât know if Scotty will still be there, but you had better take all the men you can, as heâs a pretty desperate fellow.â
The officer was greatly impressed with the charm of the genial stranger and decided to take no chances. He ordered all his men to mount their horses and, leaving the post to its own devices, they rode hard for a couple of hours to the south. When they came to a drift Scotty and the Veldkornet dismounted and reconnoitred the area. They found no one and the officer ordered the men to picket their horses. They followed Scotty on foot to a bend.
âThere!â cried Scotty. âThatâs where they are hidden.â
âBut surely the powder will spoil in the water?â said the officer.
âScottyâs a sly oneâ, came the reply. âThe boxes will be watertight.â
The men began probing the water and, sure enough, they found one box, then another, then another, but they were too heavy to lift and the entire patrol came to assist. Scotty wandered casually away until he was around the bend, and then ran swiftly to the picketed horses. After setting them loose and stampeding them, he mounted his own steed and galloped back to the border post where he had left his wagons. He quickly inspanned and drove the wagons safely past the deserted border post to the rendezvous deep inside Basutoland.
Meanwhile, the Veldkornet and his men had managed to get some of the enormously heavy boxes to the bank and had prised the lids open, only to find them filled with river boulders. When they looked around for the stranger he had disappeared and so had their horses. They had a long and weary walk back to their post.
Another of his favourite stories concerned an encounter with the Jewish diamond thief. Scotty was transport riding at the time when he happened upon a pedlar walking along the road and offered him a lift. He noticed that the
A gunrunning exploit of his, into Basutoland, is well worth the telling. In 1871 this country, at the request of King Moshweshwe, had been taken under the protection of the British Crown. But the proud Basuto people had in no sense been conquered. They were still ruled by their King and almost every man possessed a rifle. In 1880, after the Zulu War, the Cape Government, fearing this large force of armed tribesmen, tried to disarm them and many rose in rebellion. The so-called Gun War ensued and, after three years and an expenditure of £4 500 000, it reached an inconclusive end. The rebels were âdefeatedâ, but allowed to retain their weapons, with a strict embargo on new importations. Inevitably, it became the ambition of every Basuto to possess an illicit firearm. They were all prepared to pay a premium and this set of circumstances was just right for our man.
Having secured a large number of Snider rifles, muzzle-loaders and soft-nosed bullets, along with a quantity of powder, Scotty trekked across the Free State, to Ficksburg, near the Basutoland border. He hid his wagons in the bushes close to the road and boldly rode up to the frontier alone. The Veldkornet guarding the border with a handful of men hospitably offered him a cup of coffee. After gaining the manâs confidence, Scotty said, âLook, Meneer. I have some very important information for you. I know that there is a lot of gunrunning taking place, and I have found out that Scotty Smith is the main culprit. Whatâs more, I will show you how he does it! As a matter of fact, I have had a tip that he has just run a cargo into Basutoland, and they have not yet been collected. Heâs hiding them in a drift on the Caledon River and they are to be collected tonight.â
The officer became very excited. âCan you show me the place?â
âYesâ, Scotty replied. âItâs about twenty kilometres south of here. I donât know if Scotty will still be there, but you had better take all the men you can, as heâs a pretty desperate fellow.â
The officer was greatly impressed with the charm of the genial stranger and decided to take no chances. He ordered all his men to mount their horses and, leaving the post to its own devices, they rode hard for a couple of hours to the south. When they came to a drift Scotty and the Veldkornet dismounted and reconnoitred the area. They found no one and the officer ordered the men to picket their horses. They followed Scotty on foot to a bend.
âThere!â cried Scotty. âThatâs where they are hidden.â
âBut surely the powder will spoil in the water?â said the officer.
âScottyâs a sly oneâ, came the reply. âThe boxes will be watertight.â
The men began probing the water and, sure enough, they found one box, then another, then another, but they were too heavy to lift and the entire patrol came to assist. Scotty wandered casually away until he was around the bend, and then ran swiftly to the picketed horses. After setting them loose and stampeding them, he mounted his own steed and galloped back to the border post where he had left his wagons. He quickly inspanned and drove the wagons safely past the deserted border post to the rendezvous deep inside Basutoland.
Meanwhile, the Veldkornet and his men had managed to get some of the enormously heavy boxes to the bank and had prised the lids open, only to find them filled with river boulders. When they looked around for the stranger he had disappeared and so had their horses. They had a long and weary walk back to their post.
Another of his favourite stories concerned an encounter with the Jewish diamond thief. Scotty was transport riding at the time when he happened upon a pedlar walking along the road and offered him a lift. He noticed that the
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