When we reached Natal in the course of that voyage, we heard of the outbreak of the first Boer war, which commenced by the shooting down of one of our regiments without any declaration of hostilities. I will only say this, that the feeling between the Dutch and the British was then, and for many years afterwards, so acute that the last Boer war was the inevitable outcome of it, and for this state of things I, in my own mind, have always considered Mr. Froude and his friends responsible. Left to themselves, the Boers would have accepted the ruling of Sir Bartle Frere, had his administration in the Transvaal been carried out as he intended it should be.
My chief officer in the _African_ was a man I have mentioned before, E. T. Jones, who wore an abnormally large black beard, from which he had acquired the soubriquet of “Black Jones.” I had the very highest regard for him in every way. When we arrived home in February 1881, as a matter of course I went to London to see the directors. At that time the _Roman_ had been chartered to take out troops to Natal. There was then no master appointed to her, and I was questioned as to the ability of my chief officer, to which I replied that he was as good a man as I was. But, said one director, “is that the man with a black beard that looks like a pirate?” and the conversation closed with a laugh, and the intimation that they would come to Southampton to see about it. When I returned that evening I got hold of Jones, and much against his will took him to a barber’s and had his beard off. It was a time for heroic measures, for that use of the shears probably decided the matter in his favour. As, however, it would not do to send out troops with a man whose first voyage it was in command, he took the _African_ and I the _Roman_, with orders to change again on the coast. As I write this I have before me a letter signed by the officers who travelled in the _Roman_, thanking me for a pleasant passage. The first signature is Finch White, major 85th Light Infantry, commanding troops. It is followed by F. Grenfell, lieutenant-colonel 60th rifles (now Field-Marshal Lord Grenfell). Amongst many others comes R. B. Lane, major rifle brigade (now General Sir R. B. Lane), D. N. Stewart, 2nd lieutenant 92nd Highlanders, who afterwards achieved honours in many parts of the empire, and Charles E. Knox, captain 85th regiment, one of our best generals in the late war. They were a pleasant crowd to travel with, and the passage passed without a hitch, but so far as I was personally concerned I had a little trouble, for on the line I discovered that my carpenter had been neglectful of his duties, and we had only one day’s water on board. I said nothing about it but put on the condenser night and day until we had refilled our tanks. I then put an officer in charge of them, but my chief engineer rose manfully to that occasion, for it was not pleasant to have many hundreds of men depending entirely upon condensed supplies. Major Lane and I became very intimate. He had a wonderful personality which attracted every one, and I doubt not he still retains it. One evening he and I caught a booby, and the question was the best use to put it to. Colonel Grenfell was then asleep, and we thought it might be a good idea to put the bird in his bunk. We put that squawking beast on top of him as he lay, but he never turned a hair, only said, “Ugh! take the beastly thing away,” and we did. It was no small test of a man’s nerve, however, since tried and verified in many a tight corner. One thing struck me, however, on that trip, and it was the great interest taken by the officers in theological works of all sorts. There was a fine collection on board, and I remember reading one called _The Approaching End of the Age_, by Gratton Guinness, which proved beyond the shadow of a doubt that the world must end by 1894.