1st Volunteer Battalion Northumberland Fusiliers in South Africa 1901 - 1902.

1st Volunteer Battalion Northumberland Fusiliers in South Africa 1901 - 1902.

Sergeant Robert Bolton

The Northumberland Fusiliers were my local regiment, my father was in them, as was my great grandfather and several uncles throughout the 20th century. 

My interest in the Boer war stems from my next door neighbour when I was a child, Thomas Bowman was a private in L & M Company (Morpeth) Volunteer Battalion Northumberland Fusiliers (from here on VBNF).

 I later found out that my great great uncle Robert Bolton was a Sergeant in E Company (Bellingham) VBNF, he went to South Africa at the same time as my neighbour.

In my last blog I outlined the events concerning the capture of English renegade Frank Pearson, which featured the 1st Battalion Northumberland Fusiliers in the first few months of 1901. Under the overall command of Lord Methuen, and with many other regiments, they were employed escorting convoys and attempting to track down the elusive Boer commandos.

One such action occurred at Kleinfontein on the 24th October, the center of a convoy was attacked by a large Boer force and, taken by surprise, the column was cut in two. The Boers managed to capture some of the artillery guns, but because the horse teams had been shot to pieces so they couldn't be taken away and were soon recaptured.

The rest of the column quickly recovered from the shock and wheeled around to face the Boers, the fighting was intense with many casualties on both sides, finally the Boers broke contact and rode away. They managed to capture 15 wagons of supplies with 150 mules and 160 horses, the British lost 90 killed, wounded and missing, the Boers lost 51. 

The Boers were expert guerilla fighters and knew the land intimately well, the convoys of wagons were very vulnerable to attack, stretched over several miles in hostile territory, and the troops protecting them were potentially outnumbered by an elusive enemy.

It was not until 1902 that the 1st VBNF saw any real contact with the Boers, when it came it was fast and brutal, this is their story. I have gleaned the following history from newspapers such as the Morpeth Herald, Newcastle Journal and the Newcastle Evening Chronicle.

Newcastle Evening Chronicle - 3rd January 1902.

"The Fighting Fifth,

The Northumberland Fusiliers, writes a military correspondent, open the new year in a very flourishing state, and it is doubtful whether there be another corps in the service with such a position as that now occupied by the 'Fighting Fifth.' Notwithstanding heavy losses, the 1st and 2nd battalions with the South African Field Force are both over 1,000 strong, while the 3rd and 4th battalions in the Isle of Wight and Ireland are 600 and 700 strong respectively, and have some hundreds of men with mounted infantry battalions at the front.

1st VBNF on exercise before the war.

Recruiting at Newcastle depot goes strong, and drafts from the horse battalions leave Tyneside monthly. The mounted infantry section from Newcastle depot is still in training at Aldershot, and is being brought to a fine state of efficiency. Orders for embarkation are expected in a few days.

Brevet-Colonel C.G.C. Money, CB, after having commanded the 1st Battalion for 4 years, about 3 of which he has been on active service, is en route for home, as is also Brevet-Colonel St. G.C. Henry, CB, second in command of the 3rd Battalion, who for nearly 2 years has been commanding a corps of mounted infantry.

Colonel Money and officers of the Northumberland Fusiliers.

Second-Lieutenant F.R.I. Athill, who has been attached to the 4th Battalion in Dublin, has been ordered to join the 1st Battalion at Lichtenburg."

Meanwhile in South Africa the war went on, it was a very dangerous place for a young inexperienced Tommy. Gifts from home were most welcome, at Christmas the Fusiliers were given a special present.

"The following is a copy of a letter which the Countess Grey has received from Lieut-Colonel Dashwood, commanding the 1st Battalion Northumberland Fusiliers, with reference to the Christmas gifts which were sent out to that battalion:-

Lieut-Colonel Dashwood, commanding the 1st Battalion Northumberland Fusiliers, on behalf of the noncommissioned officers and men of the battalion, and of the company of Northumberland Volunteers attached, begs to thank you the Countess Grey and the Northumberland friends who have so kindly again sent out gifts to them.

He has received a notification from the Standard Bank, Mafeking, of the deposit of £100, which sum will be expended in tobacco. The pipes and handkerchiefs will no doubt arrive by the next convoy, which is expected shortly. The battalion will greatly appreciate these gifts, and still more so the fact that they are not forgotten at home. Lichtenburg, December 24th, 1901."

On the 18th January the latest heroes were honoured in the Newcastle Journal;

"Officers mentioned in dispatches,

The following are honourably mentioned in Lord Kitchener's dispatch:-

Lieut. R.R. Lambton (killed), 1st Durham Light Infantry, 'for most gallant conduct in trying to repulse Boer attack at Blood River Poort, Natal,' on 17th September, 1901.

Sergeant J. Bailey, 1st Northumberland Fusiliers, 'for determination and bravery in Colonel Von Donop's action of Kleinfontein, 24th October, 1901."

A word of warning for those writing to their loved ones, or the press....Newcastle Journal - 5th February 1902.

"The New Volunteer Regulation.

Colonel Gibson On Efficiency.

The regimental orders just issued by Colonel Wilfred Gibson, VD, commanding the 1st VBNF, say that owing to letters having appeared in the press in which individuals have aired their own views concerning the new regulations respecting the conditions of efficiency for officers and volunteers, the commanding officer thinks it desirable to impress upon all ranks of the battalion that he relies on them being guided only by regimental orders on the subject, and giving him every assistance in their power to carry out his orders, which have been and will be carefully considered before promulgation to the battalion.

Owing to the nature of the volunteer force, hardly any two regiments in it are affected exactly in the same way by the new regulations, and Colonel Gibson thinks that some of the opinions given by individuals in the press may have caused members of this battalion to think that the new regulations are impossible to carry out by this battalion. Colonel Gibson is not of this opinion.

He has already given all the officers commanding companies their orders on the subject, and he relies on all ranks to give him and the officers commanding companies their best support in carrying out his orders. So far as recruits are affected there is very little more required of them than what recruits in the past have actually done, therefore the new regulations should not be a reason for the falling off in the number of recruits which the commanding officer fears it is."

Disaster.

Newcastle Journal - 27th February 1902.

Disaster At Wolmaransstad.

Northumberland Fusiliers and New Zealanders at Klerksdorp.

"Two messages from Lord Kitchener, received yesterday, report severe fighting, and one, we fear, serious mishap. An empty convoy, coming from Von Donop's column at Wolmaransstad, was attacked, about ten miles north of Klerksdorp, and, after severe fighting, was captured.

The escort consisted of the 5th Battalion Imperial Yeomanry, three companies of the 1st Northumberland Fusiliers, and two guns. It was, therefore, a pretty strong force. The message says that no details have been received, but adds that the Boers evidently came from a considerable distance, and are being pursued.

It will be observed that nothing is said as to the fate of the British force and the guns. If the capture of the convoy means that the whole of the escort was taken prisoners, and the guns captured, we must regard it as one of the most serious disasters that has happened for the last month or two.

The convoys stretched for miles and were very vulnerable.

It may be that the Boers only got the empty waggons; but if that had been so, Lord Kitchener would, we think, have said so; and his formula of 'no details received' generally means the worst. It would appear that this must have been one of those sudden swoops down by De La Rey and Kemp, in which, at various times, they have been exceedingly successful. 

The enemy are said to have come from a long distance; and as the site of the affair is far south, and in a neighbourhood where the Boers have not been in force for a long time, we may take it that the column came from the north, and had by night marching suddenly arrived where they were not expected."

On the 1st March a casualty list was published;

 

Over the next few days the extent of the disaster was guessed at in the press and mentioned in the House of Commons, the MP's cheered when informed that the 7th New Zealanders had captured 450 Boers the next day in the Klerksdorp area, and that Imperial forces had killed or captured a further 600. In the local newspapers the casualty list kept on growing.

Newcastle Journal - 5th March 1902.

"The War

The Convoy Disaster.

Gallantry of Northumberland Fusiliers.

Klerksdorp, Saturday.

In the extreme rear those of the Northumberland Fusiliers who had been cut off had succeeded in fighting their way out for some distance. Their ammunition had failed them before long, but undismayed they fixed bayonets and charged. Their courage was, however, unavailing against their well armed and mounted foes, and they were eventually overwhelmed.

A depiction of the rearguard action.

By seven o'clock all resistance was at an end. The dead and wounded lay all over the field, and broken waggons and panic stricken horses and mules made up a scene of indescribable confusion. It was not until General De La Rey came down in person that anything like order was restored.

Numbers of his men were engaged in stripping the wounded, but he at once stopped them by a free use of the sjarabok. He could not be everywhere, however, and the moment he had turned his back the work of despoiling the dead, the wounded and the prisoners was resumed."

Further to that description of the battle, the Newcastle Journal updated it's information on the 7th;

"General De La Rey's attack on Colonel Von Donop's convoy between Wolmaransstad and Klerksdorp was one of the most desperate enterprises he has ever undertaken. The convoy, which was empty, was inspanning after a short rest nine miles from here (Klerksdorp), when the Boers under General De La Rey made a sudden onslaught, their leader's idea evidently being that the convoy was loaded.

The escort, consisting of two and a half companies of Northumberland Fusiliers and 280 Yeomanry, with two 15 pounders and a pom-pom, in spite of the suddenness of the attack, formed up quickly and made a stubborn resistance. The convoy was very large and covered considerable ground, and this circumstance, together with the confusion among the native drivers, and the flurry incidental to the sudden attack rendered the task of defence most difficult.

The escort, however, defended itself gallantly, repulsing the Boers for three hours, when, outnumbered and overcome, the troops surrendered to the convoy. The Boer losses were relatively heavy. The enemy numbered 1,500. General De La Rey behaved kindly to our wounded."

General Koos De La Rey.

Accounts from private soldiers, the rank and file, began to come in detailing the enormity of the disaster, one witness said;

"We fought like the devil for four hours, but the Boers were too strong for us, so we retired as best we could, all our officers being killed or wounded. We were called upon to surrender, but refused to do so till we saw the game was hopeless. The enemy stripped us of our clothing and left us naked upon the veldt. We were 36 hours without food and shelter."

A member of the Northumberland Yeomanry wrote to his friend in Newcastle;

"We left Wolmaransstad on Sunday morning with an empty convoy and about 600 men, consisting of three companies of Northumberland Fusiliers about 200 strong, the 5th Regiment Imperial Yeomanry, about 200 strong, about 100 of Paget's Horse, a few South Wales Borderers M.I., and a gun escort about 60 in number.

We were riding cooly along, some miles from Klerksdorp, when heavy firing was heard from the bush. Daylight began to break, and we were sent down each flank to guard the convoy. There was no panic. The Yeomanry were mixed with the Fusiliers. The convoy was moved up to the bush, and the Boers then made it very warm at the rear, so those on the right flank were sent thither.

The Boers were mounted, whilst we were on foot. We gave them a few shots, and started to retire, as we saw the convoy was on the move again. The Boers pressed on, and put a very heavy fire into us, which we answered as best we could. The convoy was now galloping, and it was impossible to keep up with it. We were ready to drop.

British soldiers surrender to Boers.

At last the Boers got close up and charged in among us. At this time the convoy was half a mile ahead, and there was nothing for us but surrender, as we had not a breath left in us. Some of the Boers disarmed us; others galloped on and shot some of the mules to stop the convoy. They took the guns and everything. Some were stripped of their clothing and money. I just lost my coat. General De La Rey used the sjambok (a heavy leather whip) pretty liberally on one man who was stripping the dead.

About 1,500 Boers attacked us, and they and their horses seemed in splendid condition. They were fine fellows to speak to. The youngsters were the worst for taking clothes, ect. General De La Rey was very angry at seeing the men srtipped. Some of the Boers would not think of taking anything without paying for it.

General De La Rey made a speech through his interpreter, as to our treatment of the women and making our prisoners walk. I suppose that is why he only gave us three waggons to carry our blankets when we were escorted back to the line, and we had to walk. De La Rey complimented us on the rearguard action we fought, and before leaving we gave three cheers for the old man, who seemed pleased."

Another disaster.

Lord Methuen Captured, the Battle of Tweebosch.

Newcastle Journal, 11th March 1902.

"House of Commons; Mr Brodrick read a further telegram from Lord Kitchener, dated Pretoria, 11.5 am, giving details of the attack upon Lord Methuen's force by De La Rey.

The Northumberland Fusiliers and North Lancashire Regiment defended the guns gallantly, refusing to surrender until the last. De La Rey's force were almost all dressed in our uniform, making it impossible for the infantry to distinguish our own men from the enemy when the mounted troops were driven in upon them. The enemy's force numbered 1,500, with a 15 pounder and a pom-pom.

Lord Methuen was seen by an officer of the Intelligence Department, and was well cared for. By a private telegram he saw that Lord Methuen had a fractured thigh, but was doing well.

Lord Kitchener hoped that the reinforcements now arriving would rectify the situation in the area without disturbing arrangements elsewhere."

On the 17th March an official version of events was published.

"Pretoria, Sunday, 6.45 am.

Lord Methuen has sent me a staff officer with a dictated dispatch, from which it appears that certain particulars previously given are inaccurate.

The rear screen of mounted troops was rushed and overwhelmed at dawn. There was then a gap of one mile between ox and mule convoys. Mounted supports to rear screen, which Lord Methuen at once reinforced by all available mounted troops, and section thirty eight battery maintained themselves for one hour, during which period convoys were closing up without disorder.

Meanwhile two hundred infantry were being disposed by Lord Methuen to resist Boer attacks, which was outflanking left of rear guard. Boers pressed attack hard, and mounted troops, attempting to fall back on infantry, got completely out of hand, carrying away with them in rout bulk of mounted troops.

Lord Methuen rallying the troops.

Two guns of the thirty eight battery were thus left unprotected, but continued in action until every man, with the exception of Lieutenant Nesham, was hit. This officer was called on to surrender, and on refusing, was killed.

Canadian Lieut. Nesham

Lord Methuen, with two hundred Northumberland Fusiliers and two guns of the 4th Battery, then found themselves isolated, but held on for three hours. During this period the remaining infantry, viz., one hundred North Lancashire Regiment, with some forty mounted men, mostly Cape Police, who had occupied a kraal, also continued to hold out against repeated attacks.

By this time Lord Methuen was wounded, and the casualties were exceedingly heavy amongst his men. Ammunition was mostly expended, and surrender was made at about 9.30 am. The party in the kraal still, however, held out, and did not give in until two guns and a pom-pom were brought to bear, about ten o'clock, making their position untenable.

It is confirmed  most of the Boers wore our khaki uniform, many also badges of rank. Even at close quarters they were indistinguishable from our own troops. It is clear the infantry fought well, and the artillery have kept the traditions of their regiment. In addition to the forty Cape Police mentioned a few parties of the 5th Imperial Yeomanry and Cape Police also continued to resist after the panic which had swept the bulk of the mounted troops off the ground."

Lord Methuen surrenders.

One trooper of the 5th Yeomanry said;

"The Colonials bolted as soon as they saw they were outnumbered, and left the Yeomanry and infantry to do the work."

Be that as it may, it was still quite a disaster. Methuen was soon released by the Boers, General De La Rey transported him in his own carriage under a flag of truce to a British hospital, an act for which the Boers tried to court martial him, but he was acquitted.

The biggest British column in the Western Transvaal was now out of action, Methuen was sent home, a wave of sympathy saved his career, a very angry Kitchener was blamed for sending "green" troops to this dangerous area. Kitchener sent in a large force commanded by Colonel Ian Hamilton to sort out the Boers once and for all.

Battle was brought on the 11th April at Rooiwal, a cornered Boer force tried to break out of an encirclement and met well dug in British troops, the outcome was disastrous for the boers, and it signaled the end of the war in the Western Transvaal. 

The war ended on the 31st May 1902.

The men of the 1st VBNF were welcomed home in June 1902, my old next door neighbour Thomas Bowman was mentioned in the Morpeth Herald on the 28th June.

Men of the Morpeth VBNF on parade in Oldgate, 1904.

"The Deputy Mayor had one pleasing duty to perform, and that was to present four young volunteers who had just returned from South Africa, with an illuminated address and a small purse of gold, as a mark of public appreciation of their services. The Deputy Mayor, in a few kindly remarks, presented the addresses and purses to Privates Thomas Bowman, Robert Jewett, J.W. English, and E. Morgan, who were loudly cheered. The Borough Band then played 'God Save The King', which was lustily sung by all present."

A photograph of members of the 1st VBNF taken just after the war, outside the still unidentified Shital House. It was left to me by Thomas Bowman.

Over in Bellingham my Great Great Uncle Sergeant Robert Bolton was also honoured by having his name included on the town memorial.

The Bellingham Boer War Memorial.

My Great Great Uncle Robert Bolton, Volunteer.

The Northumberland Fusiliers Boer War Memorial, Newcastle Upon Tyne.

The Capture Of Frank Pearson - The Renegade Englishman.

The Capture Of Frank Pearson - The Renegade Englishman.

The Transvaal 1900 - 1901.

The South African War had been raging since October 1899, despite many reverses by 1901 British and Empire troops had captured many towns and cities in both the Transvaal and Orange Free State.

The British generals thought the war was as good as won, but instead it had turned into a guerilla war, with roving Boer Commandos wreaking havoc on British outposts and supply lines.

By December 1900 the British were on the hunt for several Boer Generals, Koos De La Rey, Christiaan Frederik Beyers, and Christiaan De Wet being some of the more famous. At this point in the war the Boers were desperate for supplies, mainly boots and clothing. They attacked a British supply column on the 2nd December taking boots and clothes while burning the rest, then on the 13th December the Boers attacked the British camp at Nooitgedacht.

General Koos De La Rey On Commando

A British Brigade under the command of Major General R.A.P Clements were camped under the Magaliesberg mountains, to the north on top of the mountain was a picket of 300 men of the 2nd Northumberland Fusiliers stretched over 2 miles.

Beyers commando was split into three parts, one would attack the picket on the mountain, another would attack the main camp, while the last would take the several kopje's in the south. The result was that the Northumberland Fusiliers gave Beyers men on the mountain a very bloody time, the Boers falling back only to attack again, the fighting was furious with high losses on both sides, eventually the Fusiliers gave way to superior numbers and many were captured. A relief column from the main camp was cut to pieces as they tried to climb up the steep slopes.

General Christiaan Frederik Beyers

The main camp was attacked simultaneously, and although a stout resistance was put up the brigade retreated south to what became known as Yeomanry Hill, all the other kopje's had been captured by De La Rey. Yeomanry Hill became the focus of British resistance while the camp was looted for anything useful by the Boers, one Boer commented "we were refitted from head to heal".

This was quite a victory for the Boers but it did nothing to stem the tide, the British were soon back on the trail of the elusive commandos. This is only one example of how the Boers ran rings around the British during this guerilla phase, there were many other examples. I have also used this example as the Northumberland Fusiliers play a part in the capture of Pearson, my great great uncle was a sergeant in E Company, 1st Battalion at Wolmaransstad.

It was due to this theft of British uniforms and increasing instances of British troops being fired upon by other supposed friendly forces that were far from friendly, that General Kitchener allegedly issued a controversial order, was it to summary execute or put the perpetrators on trial with the end result of a possible execution? The vagueness of this order was to eventually put Harry "Breaker" Morant and Peter Handcock in front of a firing squad in 1902, they saw it as a carte blanche to kill Boers, this controversial trial is still hotly debated.

On To Wolmaransstad.

Wolmaransstad was a strategic town for both the Boers and British, it would be important to deny the Boer commandos the towns supplies, and it would also be a good base for the British to dominate the surrounding area.

The Landdrost (a kind of official of military justice) of Wolmaransstad was an Englishman called Frank Pearson, Pearson was notorious for handing down harsh penalties and even the sentence of death for what he considered cowardice or treason. When the first phase of the war had ended Boer prisoners were encouraged to sign an oath of neutrality, to stop any further military action and hand over their firearms. Pearson encouraged them to renege on the oath and take up arms in the guerilla war. Some refused, and they were shot.

On the 11th February the Imperial forces were 30 miles to the south of Wolmaransstad, the day before, the Boers dug in on the Hart's River had been routed by artillery fire, and a direct assault across the swollen river.

A Boer Commando In Action.

Just before dawn British scouts found a party of Boers on the road, one of the Boers was wounded in the skirmish. Before the column reached the town Boer forces tried to flank the British, but were driven off by artillery fire. The remaining Boers in the town soon left, among them was Landdrost Pearson.

According to a press release called "Lord Methuen's Operations - Klerksdorp, Transvaal"; 

General Christiaan De Wet

"The Boers in the village cleared out smartly, and the notorious Commandant Pearson narrowly escaped being captured. He was in a cart, and one of the horses stuck, and our scouts were getting dangerously close, when the jibbing animal moved on, and the horses being fresh, he got away. A pocket book belonging to him was picked up in which was written a proclamation purporting to be issued by Lord Roberts offering £50,000 each for the capture of Steyn and Kruger, £30,000 for De Wet, and other rewards for other Boer leaders. The concoction of lies was evidently intended for publication. Four Boers were caught, three of them Griqualand West rebels."

"We found that the prisoners held by the Boers at the place had been sent away the night before, accompanied by the fire-eating officials, and were out of reach. Among them was Major Paget, of Paget's Horse, and six burgher prisoners condemned to death for assisting the British by the Boer court recently held in Wolmaransstad."

The next day there was an artillery duel between the British and Boers which caused several casualties on both sides. De Wet's commando were supposed to have attacked that night but it did not materialise. On the 15th the Imperial forces started to move north and west in the direction of Klerksdorp, with much skirmishing.

According to The Morning Post;

"Kimberley,

Five men who have arrived here from Wolmaransstad state that the Boers gave them the option of leaving the town or of standing their trial for high treason. They report that Mr Frank Pearson, an Englishman, the landdrost of the district and a former landdrost of Dewaal, is awaiting his trial for high treason.

The Boers have established a military court, and have appointed Mr Rothman, formerly British Prosecutor at Klerksdorp, State Attorney. This court has already sentenced six persons to death, but the sentences have not been carried out..

General Liebenberg has had a number of Burghers shot at Wolmaransstad. He is now chief of the arsenal and the food depot of the Boer forces operating in the western part of the Transvaal."

An interesting account of the capture of Wolmaransstad was published in The Age of Melbourne, Australia;

"On entering...we rounded up the inhabitants and collected them in the market square. One heard shouts all round of 'hands up, there!' 'Keep 'em up!' 'Into the middle of the street with you. Now stand fast; if you dare to move we'll shoot you!' And the orders were given in tones that ensured prompt and anxious obedience. Locked doors were at once smashed in, and every house searched for arms and armed men."

The Harm Pearson Has Done.

From the Oxford Chronicle and Reading Gazette, Friday 03 May 1901.

Lieut. General Paul Methuen

"All arms were employed, and all did well. Lord Methuen, who directed the operations from the front, won a well fought out fight by both sides, and got through successfully his large convoy and cattle to the village of Haartebeetefontein, and on to Klerksdorp next day.

We have since had a very interesting time, with a fair share of hard work. Amongst other things we caught a disreputable and loathsome brute called Frank Pearson, who has lately been acting as Landdrost, of Wolmaransstad. Although he is an Englishman born, on the plea of being a burgher he has been fighting for the Boers, and has not only carried out their orders in a most brutal manner, but has done incalculable harm on his own account, making Boers break the oath of neutrality and take up arms again after they had laid them down.

He has employed all sorts of unfair means to force the burghers to go on commando again, in fact, General Buller's term of 'filthy ingenuity' can rightly be employed to this horrible scoundrel.

I can only quote you what a Dutch refugee said to me regarding Pearson, 'that although an Englishman he had done more harm in the neighbourhood of Wolmaransstad, Haatefontain, and Klerksdorp than a thousand Boers."

The Capture of Frank Pearson.

From a letter received by Mr C. Pagett, from his brother, a sergeant in the 1st Battalion Northumberland Fusiliers, who is with Lord Methuen's column at Fourteen Streams - the Hendon & Finchley Times, Friday 10 May 1901.

"Our detachment left Welverliend on 3rd March and rode towards Klerksdorp, where we joined A and E companies of our regiment who have been with Methuen all along. We have accomplished our first trek, viz, Klerksdorp to Fourteen Streams, 140 miles hard marching; we did it in ten days.

Column has been here a week come Thursday, so we expect trekking any day; should not be surprised to see division broken up. Trekking went down badly with us Welverdiend mob, but we soon broke ourselves in. Bad enough on the march now, but although marching is as hard as ever, it cannot be compared to the old time trekking in the Free State when we often - very often - had to march and fight on practically empty stomachs.

Now we always get full rations of biscuits and meat and coffee three times a day. I will give you a brief outline of how Methuen marches now.

British Soldiers On The March.

Start trekking at 2am, march till about 10 or 11, when, as a rule, we have done till following morning, unless, with something special in view, we do a second march in the evening. Then, again, we have tents to lie under, which makes things more comfortable.

Our march down here was without incident, just a little skirmish now and again on our rear guard. Our pom-poms always drive away any Boers who try to stop our progress. Pom-poms accounted for three Boers killed and five wounded on one occasion. We brought in plenty prisoners, including the notorious Landdrost and Commandant, Frank Pearson.

Methuen took a flying column of artillery and cavalry with him, and got a muck-in at a place called Wolmaransstad, where he worsted the Boers and captured Pearson, who was just getting away in a Cape Cart. Pearson, is a grand capture, he being a great agitator for the Boer cause. He is the man who shot in cold blood four Boers who had taken the oath of neutrality, and because they refused to go on commando Pearson shot them dead.

Australian Bushmen, Tough And Resilient.

Methuen refused to see Pearson when our bushmen collared him. His words were 'Take the coward away'. I did two guards over Pearson, six men and myself.  I had to keep him in handcuffs all day, and tie his legs at night. A splendidly educated man. None of the guard were allowed to speak to him, but I got a few words with him at meal times. He told me that this coming winter would finish the Boers as they were unable to get the forage for their horses."

Pearson Is Marched Into Captivity By The 1st Batt. Northumberland Fusiliers.

Pearson Looking Over His Shoulder, Under Guard Of The Northumberlands.

Pearson was a very important prisoner, Boer General De La Rey was concerned that Pearson would be executed for treason. De La Rey still had Major Paget as a prisoner of war, maybe a prisoner swap would be on the cards, this is a letter sent by De La Rey to Methuen, dated 9th March 1901.

It reads;

"Wolmaransstad 9 March 1901.

The Right Honourable Lord Methuen.

I have heard that Landdrost Pearson of Wolmaransstad has been taken prisoner of war by you. I am prepared to exchange him with Major Paget, who is my prisoner.

If you agree to this, you can send Mr Pearson back to our lines in the vicinity of your present camp and you can let me know where you wish me to send Major Paget.

Your obedient servant.

J.H. De La Rey.

The swap never happened and poor old Major Paget had to remain in captivity.

Pearson was lucky not to have been executed, according to Louis Creswicke in his book South Africa and the Transvaal War; Volume 7 (1901), the execution of Boers under Pearson's jurisdiction were barbaric.

"The result of their exertions was the capture of Landdrost Pearson, a person who had rendered himself notorious in connection with the cases of Messers McLachlan and Boyd, who with three burghers were shot at Wolmaransstad. The particulars of the dastardly murder of these men must be recorded, as they serve to show the innate brutality of the Boers, which in the earlier part of the war had been suppressed in hope to seduce the sympathy of the powers.

The news of the execution of five British subjects, so called rebels, by De La Rey's commando was brought to Klerksdorp by Mrs McLachlan, whose husband, father, and brother in law had been amongst the victims. Most of them were burghers who had surrendered or left the country prior to the war, while others were alleged to have taken up arms.

The man Boyd, a British subject, had been detained in jail since July 1900 by the Landdrost, who induced him, with two others, to write down a message to the English praying them to come to their rescue. This afterwards made the plea for sentencing the three men to death. 

Among others sentenced were two burghers named Theunissen, well known farmers of Klerksdorp, who had surrendered with Generals Cronje's commando in June, and had taken the oath of neutrality and refused to break it. Mrs McLachlan, the daughter of the elder Theunissen, gave an account of her loss, narrating how she had taken coffins to the place of execution to bury the bodies of her father, brother, and husband, to whom she had been married only two years, while another lady made the following statement :-

"The Boers have forty of our men prisoners there. Eight or ten have been condemned to be shot. They were tried by the late Landdrost of Klerksdorp, a man named Heethling or Neethling, in conjunction with other members of the court.

The sentences were confirmed by General Smuts and De La Rey, who sent men to carry them out. The four who were shot were Mr Theunissen, his son, his son in law Mr McLachlan, and Mr Boyd. From first to last they were most brutally treated. The execution was a sad spectacle.

The prisoners, on being taken out of jail, grasped one another's hands. They were placed in a row and shot down one by one. Mr Boyd received three bullets, but was still alive when put into the grave. The Boers then fired again, and all was over.

It was nearly being my husband's fate, but, thank God, he escaped. Mr George Savage was also condemned to be shot, but he has been insane since his trial. His wife has gone with Mrs Pienaar to try and get the sentence commuted. Mrs Pienaar being with her may possibly have some influence. From all accounts it appeared that the man Pearson, who was captured by Lord Methuen, was prime actor in the barbarous drama, and, handcuffed, he was removed to await his trial."

So what happened to Pearson? There is very little information on him post capture, it appears that two men, both called Frank Pearson were captured in the same area and six days apart. The first Frank Pearson, (18097), aged 45, has no POW camp listed, the other named Frank Huysche Pearson, (24044), aged 46, was sent to a prisoner of war camp in India. Are they the same man? It does sound like wartime confusion, and that he got off very lightly....but after that.....nothing!

In The Slaughter Yard - A Forgotten Tale Of Jack The Ripper From 1890.

                              In The Slaughter Yard.

I came across this story a short while ago, I thought it deserved to see the light of day again, it's not often you find a forgotten Ripper tale, so here goes. 

The Adventures Of The Adventurers' Club was written by Arthur Spencer Thurgood, but published anonymously by Gardner and Co, Covent Garden, London in 1890.

Thurgood would sadly shoot himself at the time of publication in a railway carriage at Carshalton, letters were found on his body intimating that an engagement with a professional lady had been broken off.1

The book consists of six stories of high adventure and horror in the streets of Victorian London.

To quote the first chapter "The Adventure Club: What Is It" the book reads;

"We are always hearing of the oddities and peculiarities of London clubs, but perhaps the strangest of them all has been passed by completely unnoticed. The club in question is the Adventurers' Club, which meets in two moderate sized rooms over a shop in Regent Street.

It's nature is perhaps best understood from the motto which it bears, taken from the well known saying of Lord Beaconsfield, 'Adventures are to the adventurous.'

Certainly the records of the club are able to show that its members have not been without their fair share of such doings."

The rules of the club are; "The members meet on one night in every month and dine together. At ten o'clock their meeting breaks up, and each proceeds to wander till dawn through London in search of adventures. Next morning they re-assemble at eleven o'clock, and relate what had befallen them in the course of the night."

So each member goes on their individual adventure, I will fast forward here to the fifth story, the one associated with the Whitechapel murderer, when our hero returns to Regent Street with a very peculiar tale to tell, this chapter is;

In The Slaughter Yard.

'You seem to have had a lively time of it, Jeaffreson; at all events you've got something to show for your night's adventure,' said the President, pointing to the bandaged hand of Mr Horace Jeaffreson.

'Yes,' replied that gentleman,  'I've got something to remember last night by; but I've got something more to show than this bandaged hand that you all stare at so curiously.' And then Horace Jeaffreson rose, drew himself up to his full height of six feet one, and exhibited the left side of his closely buttoned, well fitting frock coat.

'I should like you to notice that,' he said, pointing to a straight, clean cut in the cloth, just on a level with the region of the heart. 'When you've heard what I've got to tell, you'll acknowledge that I had a pretty narrow squeak of it last night; three inches more and it would have been all up with H.J.

I don't regret it a bit, because I believe that I have been the means of ridding the world of a monster. Time alone will tell prove whether my suspicion is correct,' and then Mr Horace Jeaffreson shuddered.

Before I begin the history of my adventures, there are two objects that I must Submit to your inspection; they are in that little parcel that I have laid upon the mantlepiece. Perhaps, as my left hand is disabled, you won't mind undoing the parcel, Mr President.

He laid a long, narrow parcel upon the table, and the President proceeded to open it. The contents consisted of a policeman's truncheon - branded H 1839 - and a long, narrow bladed, double edged knife, having an ebony handle, which was cut in criss-cross ridges. There were stains of blood upon the truncheon, and the knife appeared to have been dipped in a red varnish, of the nature of which there could be no doubt.

'Those are the exhibits,' said Horace Jeaffreson. 'The slit in my coat, my wounded hand, that truncheon and that blood stained knife, and a copy of the morning paper, are all the proofs I have to give you that my adventure of last night was not a hideous nightmare dream, or a wildly improbable yarn.

I must confess that when I placed my forefinger haphazard upon the map last night, and found that fate had given me Whitechapel as my hunting ground, I was considerably disgusted. I left this place bound for the heart of sordid London, the home of vice, of misery, and crime.

Until last night I knew nothing whatever about the East End of London. I've never been bitten with the desire to do even the smallest bit of slumming. I'm sorry enough for the poor, I'd do all I can to help them in the way of subscribing, and that sort of thing, you know; but actual poverty in the flesh I confess to fighting shy of - it's a weakness I own, but, so to say, poverty, crass poverty, offends my nostrils. I'm not a snob, but that's the truth. However, I was in for it; I had got to pass the night in Whitechapel for the sake of what might turn up. A good deal turned up, and a good deal more than I had bargained for.'

'Shall I wait for you, sir?' said the cabman, as he pulled up his hansom at the corner of Osborne Street. 'I'm game to wait, sir, if you won't be long.'

But I dismissed him, 'I shall be here for several hours, my man.' I said.

'You know best, sir,' said the cabman; 'everyone to his taste. You'd better keep yer weather eye open, sir, anyhow; for the side streets ain't over and above safe about here. If I were you, sir, I'd get a copper to show me around.' And then the man thanked me for a liberal fare, and flicking his horse, drove off.

But I had come to Whitechapel to seek adventure, something was bound to turn up, and, as a modern Don Quixote, I determined to take my chance alone; for it wasn't under the protecting wing of a member of the force that I was likely to come across any very stirring novelty.

I wandered about the dirty, badly lighted streets, and I marvelled at the teeming hundreds who thronged the principal thoroughfares. I don't think that ever in my life before I had seen so many hungry, hopeless looking, anxious looking people crowded together. They all seemed to be hurrying either to the public house or from the public house. Nobody offered to molest me.

I'm a fairly big man, and with the exception of having my pockets attempted some half dozen times, I met with no annoyance of any kind. As twelve o'clock struck an extraordinary change came over the neighbourhood; the doors of the public houses were closed, and, save in the larger thoroughfares, the whole miserable quarter seemed to become suddenly silent and deserted.

I had succeeded in losing myself at least half a dozen times; but go where I would, turn where I might, two things struck me - first, the extraordinary number of policemen about; second, the frightful way in which men and women, particularly the homeless wanderers of the night, of both sexes, regarded me. Belated wayfarers would step aside out of my path, and stare at me, as though with dread. Some, more timorous than the rest, would even cross the road at my approach; or, avoiding me, start off at a run or at a shambling trot.

It puzzled me at first. Why on earth should the poverty stricken rabble, who had the misfortune to live in this wretched neighborhood, be afraid of a man, who had a decent coat on his back?

The side streets, as I say, were almost absolutely deserted, save for infrequent policemen who gave me a good night, or gazed at me suspiciously. I was wandering aimlessly along, when my curiosity was suddenly aroused by a powerful, acrid, and peculiar odour. 'Without a doubt,' said I to myself, 'that is the nastiest stench it has ever been my misfortune to smell in the whole course of my life.'

Stench is a Johnsonian word, and very expressive; it's the only word to convey any idea of the nastiness of the mixed odours which assailed my nostrils. 'I will follow my nose,' I said to myself, and I turned down a narrow lane, a short lane, lit by a single gas lamp. 'It gets worse and worse,' I thought, 'and it can't be far off, whatever it is.' It was so bad that I actually had to hold my nose.

At that moment I ran into the arms of a policeman, who appeared to spring suddenly out of the earth. 'I'm sure I beg your pardon,' I said to the man. 'Don't mention it, sir,' replied the policeman briskly, and there was something of a countryman's drawl in the young man's voice. 'Been and lost yourself, sir, I suppose?' he continued.

'Well, not exactly,' I replied. 'The fact is, I wandered down here to see where the smell came from.' 'You've come to the right shop, sir,' said the policeman, with a smile; 'it's a regular devil's kitchen they've got going on down here, it's just a knacker's, sir, that's what it is; and they make glue, and size, and cat's meat, and patent manure. It isn't a trade that most people would hanker for,' said the young policeman with a smile.

'They are in a very large way of business, sir, are Melmoth Brothers; it might be worth your while, sir, to take a look round; you'll find the night watchman inside, sir, and he'd be pleased to show you over the place for a trifle; and it's worth seeing is Melmoth Brothers.'

'I'll take your advice, and have a look at the place,' I answered. 'There seems to be a great number of police about tonight, my man,' I said. 'Well, yes, sir,' replied the constable, 'you see the scare down here gets worse and worse; and the people here are just afraid of their own shadows after midnight; the wonder to my mind is, sir, that we haven't dropped on him long ago.'

Then all at once it dawned on me why it was that men and women had turned aside from me in fear; then I saw why it was that the place seemed a perfect ants' nest of police. The great scare was at its height: the last atrocity had been committed only four days before.

'Why, bless my heart, sir,' cried the young policeman confidentially, 'one might come upon him red handed at any moment. I only wish it was my luck to come across him, sir,' he added. 'Lor bless ye, sir' the young policeman weant on, 'he'll be a pulling it off just once too often, one of these nights.'

'Well I suppose he helps to keep you awake,' I said with a smile, for want of something better to say. 'Keep me awake, sir!' said the man solemnly; 'I don't suppose there's a single constable in the whole of H Division as thinks of aught else. Why, sir, he haunts me like; and do you know, sir' - and the man's voice suddenly dropped to a very low whisper - 'I do think as how I saw him;'  and then he gave a sigh.

'I was standing, sir, just where I was when I popped out on you, a hiding up like; it was more than a month ago, and there was a woman standing crying, leaning on that very post, sir, by Melmoth Brothers' gate, with just a thin ragged shawl, sir, drawn over her head. She was down on her luck, I suppose, you see, sir - and there was a heavyish fog on at the time - when stealing up out of the fog behind where that poor thing was standing, sir, sobbing and crying for all the world just like a hungry child, I saw something brown noiselessly stealing up towards the woman; she had her back to it, sir - and she never moved. 

I could just make out the stooping figure of a man, who came swiftly forward with noiseless footsteps, crouching along in the deep shadow of yonder wall. I rubbed my eyes to see if I was awake or dreaming; and, as the crouching figure rapidly advanced, I saw that it was a man in a long close fitting brown coat of common tweed. He'd got a black billycock jammed down over his eyes, and a red cotton comforter that hid his face; and in his left hand, which held behind him, sir, was something that now and again glittered in the light of that lamp up there.

I loosed my truncheon, sir, and I stood back as quiet as a mouse, for I guessed who I'd got to deal with. Whoever he was, he meant murder, that was clear - murder and worse. All of a sudden, sir, he turned and ran back into the fog, and I after him as hard as I could pelt; and then he disappeared just as if he'd sunk into the earth. I blew my whistle, sir, and reported what I'd seen at the station, and the superintendent - he just reprimanded me, that's what he did.

'1839, I don't believe a word of it,' said he; and he didn't. 'But I did see him, sir, all the same; and if I get the chance,' said the man bitterly, 'I'll put my mark on him.' 'Well policeman,' I said, 'I hope you may, for your sake,' and then I forced a shilling on him.

'I'll go and have a look round at Melmoth Brothers' place,' I said. I gave the young policeman a goodnight, and crossed the road and walked through the open gateway into a large yard, from whence proceeded the atrocious odour that poisoned the neighbourhood.

The place was on a slope, it was paved with small round stones, and was triangular in shape; a high wall at the end by which I had entered formed the base of the triangle, and one side of the narrow lane in which I had left the young policeman. There was a sort of shed or shelter of corrugated iron running along this wall, and under the shed I could indistinctly see the figures of horses and other animals, evidently secured in a long row.

All down one side of the boundary wall of the great yard which sloped from the lane towards the point of the triangle, I saw a number of furnace doors, five and twenty of them at least; they appeared to be let into a long low wall of masonry of the most solid description , and they presented an extraordinary  appearance, giving one the idea of a mysterious ship, burnt well nigh to the water's edge, through whose closed ports the fire, which was slowly consuming her, might be plainly seen. 

The curious similitude to a burning hulk was rendered still more striking by the fact that, above the low wall in which the furnace doors were set, there was a heavy cloud of dense white steam which hung suspended above what seemed like a burning hull of the great phantom ship.

There wasn't a breath of air last night, you know, to stir that reeking cloud of fetid steam; and the young summer moon shone down upon it bright and clear, making the heaped pile of steaming vapour look like great clouds of fleecy whiteness. The place was silent as the grave itself, save for a soft bubbling sound as of some thick fluid that perpetually boiled and simmered, and the occasional movement of one of the tethered animals.

The wall opposite the row of furnaces, which formed the other side of the triangle, had a number of stout iron rings set in it some four feet apart, and looked, for all the world, like some old wharf from which the sea had long ago receded. At the apex of the triangle, where the walls nearly met, were a pair of heavy double doors of wood, which were well nigh covered with stains and slashes of dazzling whiteness; and the ground in front of them was stained white too, as though milk or whitewash, had been spilled, for several feet.

There were great wooden blocks and huge benches standing about in the great paved yard; and I noted a couple of solid gallows like structures, from each of which depended an iron pulley, holding a chain and a great iron hook. I noted, too, as a strange thing, that though the ground was paved with rounded stones - and, as you know, it was a dry night and early summer - yet in many places there were puddles of dark mud, and the ground there was wet and slippery.

But what struck me as the strangest thing of all in this weird and dreadful place, were the numerous horses lying about in every direction, apparently sleeping soundly; but as I stared at them, brilliantly lighted up as they were by the rays of the clear bright moon, I saw that they were not sleeping beasts at all - that they were not old and worn out animals calmly sleeping in happy ignorance of the fate that waited them on the morrow - but by their strange stiffened and gruesome attitudes, I perceived that the creatures were already dead.

I am no longer a child, I have no illusions, and I'm not easily frightened; but I felt a terrible sense of oppression come over me in this dreadful place. I began to feel as a little one feels when he is thrust, for the first time in his life, into a dark room by a thoughtless nurse.

But I had come out of curiosity to see the place; I had expressed my intention of doing so to Constable 1839 of the H Division; so I made up my mind to go through with it. I would see what there was to be seen, I would learn something about the mysterious trade of Melmoth Brothers; and as a preliminary I proceeded to light my briar root, so as, if possible, to get rid to some extent of the numerous diabolical smells of the place by the fragrant odour of Murray's Mixture.

And then, when I had lighted my pipe, I was startled by a hoarse voice which suddenly croaked out - 'Make yourself at home, guv'nor; don't you stand on no sort o' ceremony, for you look a gentleman, a chap what always has the price of a pint in his pocket, and wouldn't grudge the loan of a bit of baccy to a pore old chap as is down on his luck.'

I turned to the place from whence the voice proceeded. It was a strange looking creature that had addressed me. He was an old man with a pointed grey beard, who sat upon a bench of massive timber covered with dreadful stains. The bright moon lighted up his face, and I could see his features as clearly as though I saw them in the light of day.

He was clad in a long linen jerkin of coarse stuff, reaching nearly to his heels; but it's colour was no longer white - the garment was red, reddened by awful smears and splashes from head to foot. The figure wore a pair of heavy jackboots, with wooden soles, nigh upon an inch thick, to which the uppers were riveted with nails of copper; those great boots of his made me sick to look at them.

But the strangest thing of all in the dreadful costume of the grim figure was the headdress, which was a close fitting wig of knitted grey wool; very similar, in appearance at all events, to the undress wig worn by the Lord High Chancellor of England - that wig, that once sacred wig, which Mr George Grossmith has taught us to look upon with that familiarity which breeds contempt. The wig was tied beneath the pointed beard by a string. I noted that round the figure's waist was a leather strap, from which hung a sort of black pouch; from the top of this projected, so as to be ready to his hand, the hafts of several knives of divers sorts and sizes.

The face was lean, haggard, and wrinkled; fierce ferrety eyes sparkled beneath long shaggy grey eyebrows; and the toothless jaws of the old man and his pointed grey beard seemed to wag convulsively as in suppressed amusement.

And then Macaulay's lines ran through my mind --

                                     'To the mouth of some dark lair,

                          Where growling low, a fierce old bear

                          Lies amidst bones and blood.'

'Haw haw! guv'nor,' he said, 'you might think as I was one o' these murderers. I ain't the kind of cove as a young woman would care to meet of a summer night, nor any sort of night for the matter of that, am I? Haw haw! But the houses is closed, guv'nor, worse luck; and I'm dreadful dry.'

'You talk as if you'd been drinking, my man,' I said. 'That's where you're wrong, guv'nor. Why, bless me if I've touched a drop of drink for six mortal days; but tomorrow's pay day, and tomorrow night, guv'nor - tomorrow night I'll make up for it. And so you've come to look round, eh? You're the fust swell as I ever seed in this here blooming yard as had the pluck.'

And then I began to question him about the details of the hideous business of Melmoth Brothers.

'They brings 'em in, guv'nor, mostly irregular,' said the old man; 'they bring 'em in dead, and chucks 'em down anywhere, just as you see; and they brings 'em in alive, and we ties 'em up and feeds 'em proper, and gives 'em water, according to the Act; and then we just turns 'em into size and glue, or various special lines, or cat's meat, or patent manure, or superphosphate, as the case may be.

We boils 'em down within twenty four hours. Haw haw!' cried the dreadful old man in almost fiendish glee. 'There ain't much left of 'em when we've done with 'em, except the smell. Haw haw! Why, bless ye, there's nigh on half a dozen cab ranks a simmering in them there boilers,' and he pointed to the furnace fires.

And then the old man led me past the great row of furnace doors, and down the yard to the very end; and then we reached the two low wooden gates which stood at the lower end of the sloping yard. He pushed back one of the splashed and whitened doors with a great iron fork, and propped it open; then he flung open the door of the end furnace, which threw a lurid light into the low vaulted brickwork chamber within. I saw the floor of the chamber consisted of a vast leaden cistern, and that some fluid, on whose surface was a thick white scum, filled it, and gave forth a strangely acrid and, at the same time, pungent odour.

'This 'ere,' said the old man, 'is where we make the superphosphate; there's several tons of the strongest vitriol in this here place; we filled up fresh today, guv'nor. If I wos to shove you into that there vat, you'd just melt up for all the world like a lump of sugar in a glass of hot toddy; and you'd come out superphosphate, guv'nor, when they drors the vat. 

Haw haw! Seein's believin', they say; just look here. This here barrer's full of fresh horses' bones; they've been biled nigh on two days. They're bones, you see, real bones, without a bit of flesh on 'em. You just stand back, guv'nor, lest you get splashed and spiles yer clothes. Haw haw!'

I did as I was bid. And then, with another diabolical laugh, as the fluid in the cistern of the great arched chamber hissed and bubbled. 'They was bones; they're superphosphate by this time. There ain't no more to show ye, guv'nor,' said the old man with a leer, as he stretched out his hand.

I placed a half crown in it. 'I knowed ye was a gentleman,' he said. 'It's a hot night, guv'nor, and I'm dreadful droughty; but I do know where a drink's to be had at any hour, when you've got the ready, and I'll be off to get one.'

'You've forgotten to shut the furnace door, my man,' I said. 'Thank ye, guv'nor, but I did it a purpose; the boiler above it's to be drored tomorrow.'

'Aren't you afraid that if you leave the place something may be stolen?'

'Lor, guv'nor,' said the old man with a laugh, 'you're the fust as has showed his nose inside of Melmoth Brothers' premises after dark, except the chaps as works here. Haw haw! they dursn't, guv'nor, come into this place; they calls it the Devil's Cookshop hereabouts,' and taking the iron fork up, the whitened wooden door swung back into its place, and hid the mass of seething vitriol from my view.

Then, without a word, the old man in his heavy wooden soled boots clattered out of the place, leaving me alone upon the premises of Melmoth Brothers.

For several minutes I stood and gazed around me upon the strange weird scene of horror, when suddenly I heard a sound in the lane without, a sound as of a half stifled shriek of agony. I hurried out into the lane at once. I looked up and down it, and fancied that I saw a dark brown shadow suddenly disappear within an archway. I walked hurriedly towards the archway. There was nothing.

And now I heard a low voice cry in choking accents, 'Help!' Then there was a groan. At that instant I stumbled over something which lay half in half out of the entrance to a court. It was the body of a man. I stooped over him - it was the young policeman. I recognised his face instantly.

'I'm glad you've come, sir,' said the poor fellow, in failing accents. 'He's the hat on me, sir. He stabbed me from behind, and I'm choking, sir. But I saw him plain this time; it was him, sir, the man with the brown tweed coat and the red comforter. Don't you move, sir,' said the dying man, in a still lower whisper; I see him, sir; I see him now, stooping and peeping round the archway. If you move, sir, he'll twig you, and he'll slope. 'Oh God!' sobbed the poor young constable, and he gave a shudder. He was dead.

Still leaning over the body of the dead man, I tried to collect my thoughts, for, my friends, I don't mind confessing to you, for the first time in my life, since I was a child, I was really afraid. An awful deadly fear - a fear of I knew not what - had come upon me. I trembled in every limb, my hair grew wet with sweat, and I could hear - yes, I could hear - the actual beating of my own heart, as though it were a sledge hammer.

I was alone - alone and unarmed, two hours after midnight, in this dreadful place, with - well, I had no doubt with whom.

No, not unarmed. I placed my hand upon the truncheon case of the dead man. I gripped the truncheon which is now lying upon the table, and in an instant my courage came back to me. Then still stooping over the body of the murdered man, I slowly - very slowly - turned my head.

There was the man, the murderer, the wretch who had been so accurately described to me, the crouching figure in the brown tweed coat, with the red cotton comforter loosely wound round his neck. In his left hand there was something long and bright and keen, that glittered in the soft moonlight of the silent summer night.

And I saw his face, his dreadful face, the face that will haunt me to my dying day. It wasn't a bit like the descriptions. Mr Stewart Cumberland's vision of 'The Man' differed in every possible particular from the being whom I watched from under the dark shadow of the entry of the court, as he stood glaring at me in the moonlight, like a hungry tiger prepared to spring.

The man had long, crisp looking locks of tangled hair, which hung on either side of his face. There was no difficulty in studying him; the features were clearly, even brilliantly illuminated, both by the bright moonlight and by the one street lamp, which chanced above his head; even the humidity of his fierce black eyes and of his cruel teeth was plainly apparent; there wasn't a single detail of the dreadful face that escaped me.

I'm not going to describe it, it was too awful, and words would fail me. I'll tell you why I'll not describe it in a moment.

Have you ever seen a horse with a very tight bearing rein? Of course you have. Well, just as the horse throws his head about in uneasy torture, and champing his bit flings forth great flecks of foam, so did the man I was watching - watching with the hunters eye, watching as a wild and noxious beast that I was hoping anon to slay - so did his jaws, I say, champ and gnash and mumble savagely and throw forth great flecks of white froth.

The creature literally foamed at the mouth, for this dreadful thirst for blood was evidently, as yet, unsatiated. The eyes were those of a madman, or of a hunted beast driven to bay. I have no doubt, no shadow of a doubt, in my own mind, that he - the man in the brown coat - was a savage maniac, a person wholly irresponsible for his actions.

And now I'll tell you why I'm not going to describe that dreadful face of his, because, as I have told you, words would fail me. Give free rein to your fancy, let your imagination loose, and they will fail to convey to your mind one tittle of the loathsome horror of those features. The face was scarred in every direction - the mouth------

'Bah!" I need say no more, the man was a leper. I have been in the South Seas, and I know - I know - I know what a leper is like.

But I hadn't much time for meditation. I was alone with the dead man and his murderer; as likely as not, if the man in the brown coat should escape me, I might be accused of the crime; the very fact of my being possessed of the dead man's truncheon would be looked on as a damning proof.

Gripping the truncheon I rushed out upon the living horror. I would have shouted for assistance, but, why I cannot tell, my voice died away as to a whisper within my breast. It wasn't fear, for I rushed upon him fully determined to either take or slay the dreadful thing that wore the ghastly semblance of a man. I rushed upon him, I say, and struck furiously at him with the heavy staff, But he eluded me.

Noiselessly and swiftly, without even breaking the silence of the night, just as a snake slinks into its hole, the creature dived suddenly beneath my arm, and with an activity that astounded me, passed as though he were without substance (for I heard no sound of footfalls) through the great open gates which formed the entry to the premises of Melmoth Brothers.

'As he passed under my outstretched arm he must have stabbed through my thin overcoat, and as you see,' said Horace Jeaffreson, pointing to the cut in his frock coat, 'an inch or two more, and H.J. wouldn't have been among you to eat his breakfast and spin his yarn. The slash in the overcoat I wore last night, my friends, has a trace of blood stains on it - but it was not my blood.'

'Now,' thought I, 'I've got him;' his very flight filled me with determination, and I resolved to take him alive if possible, for I felt that he was delivered into my hand, and I was determined that he should not escape me; rather than that, I would knock him on the head with as little compunction as I would kill a mad dog.

As these thoughts passed through my mind, I sped after the murderer of the unfortunate policeman. I gained upon him rapidly, I was within three yards of him, when he reached the middle of the great knackers' yard; and then he attempted to dodge me round a sort of huge chopping block which stood there.

'If you don't surrender, by God I'll kill you,' I shouted.

He never answered me, he only mowed and gibbered as he fled, threatening me at the same time with the knife which he held in his hand.

I vaulted the block, and flung myself upon him; and I struck at him savagely and caught him across the forehead with the truncheon; and suddenly uttering a sort of cry as of an animal in pain, he stabbed me through the hand and turned and fled once more, I after him.

At the moment I didn't even know that I had been stabbed. I gained upon him, but he reached the bottom of the yard, and turned in front of the low whitened doors and stopped and stood at bay - crouching, knife in hand, in the strong light thrown out by the open furnace door, as though about to spring.

Blood was streaming over his face from the wound I had given him upon his forehead, and it half blinded him; and ever and anon he tried to clear his eyes of it with the cuff of his right hand. His face and figure glowed red and unearthly in the firelight.

I wasn't afraid of him now; I advanced on him.

Suddenly he sprang forward. I stepped back and hit him over the knuckles of his raised left hand, in which glittered the knife you see on the table. I struck with all my might, and the knife fell from his nerveless grasp.

He rushed back with wonderful agility. The white and rotting doors rolled open on their hinges. I saw him fall backwards with a splash into the mass of froth now coloured by the firelight with a pinky glow.

He disappeared.

And then, horror of horrors, I saw the dreadful form rise once more, and cling for an instant to the low edge of the great leaden tank, and make its one last struggle for existence; and then it sank beneath the fuming waves, never to rise again.

That's all I have to tell. I picked up the knife and secured it, with the truncheon, about my person, as best I could.

I'm glad that I avenged the death of the poor fellow whom I only knew as 1839 H. I shall be happier still if, as I believe, through my humble instrumentality, the awful outrages at the East End of London have ended.

I got to my chambers in the Albany by three in the morning; then I sent for the nearest doctor to dress my hand. It's not a serious cut, but I had bled like a pig.

I bought the morning paper on my way here; it gives the details of the murder of Constable 1839 of the H Division by an unknown hand; and it mentions that the murderer appears to have possessed himself of the truncheon of his victim. You see he was stabbed through the great vessels of the lungs.

I have no further remarks to make, except that I don't believe we shall hear any more of Jack the Ripper. Of one thing I am perfectly certain, that I shall not visit Whitechapel again in a hurry.

I'd rather, if you don't mind, that you didn't repeat this story of mine for the next six months.

Note by the editor - As yet since Mr Horace Jeaffreson's strange nocturnal adventure, no further 'outrages' have taken place in Whitechapel. Is Mr Jeaffreson's theory correct? Time alone will prove this.

1. Many thanks to Stewart Evans for furnishing me with the information concerning the author Arthur Spencer Thurgood.