is a large ship you are going in; it is
called--ah, let me see, oh, yes, the _Britannica_. I will proceed to
the station and order your kit, and in the meantime you must sign this
parole and report yourself forthwith at the docks." I said in Dutch,
which the Colonel did not understand, "Lord deliver me from this evil
person."

On arriving on board ship I found several other Boer prisoners-of-war,
amongst them my old friend Erasmus, who masqueraded as a general in
the early stages of the War. Never having been before upon the sea I
was soon in the throes of _mal de mer_, and the prospect was certainly
not encouraging. There was no help for it, however. Colonel Curtis, of
the Royal Artillery, who was in charge of the troops on board, was a
very polite and pleasant person, and very welcome after that
extraordinary creature, Ellet. We were provided with good cabins and
the food was excellent. Before leaving the Bay General Lyttelton
visited me and showed himself very friendly. I soon found out that
Mrs. Lyttelton was proceeding on the same boat to England. My company
must have been rather unattractive, seeing that I was only well for
one day during the whole voyage.

The steamer was ordered to call at Cape Town, and when we neared this
port the guard kept over us was strengthened. An officer remained with
us continually and counted us every two hours to make sure that none
of us had escaped. One day two young Boers conspired to make a fool
of the officer, and concealed themselves in the lavatory. Their
absence was discovered the next time we were counted, and the officer
in charge, in a great state of perturbation, demanded of us what had
become of them. We took up the joke at once, and replied that they had
gone on shore to be shaved and would return at 7 o'clock. This
entirely took his breath away. But the absurdity of the situation so
got the better of us that we burst out into ironical laughter, and
finally set our custodian at ease by producing the two fugitives. We
were punished for our little joke, however, by having our paroles
withdrawn.

On the 19th of February the ship, with its sorrowful freight, steamed
away from Cape Town. We prisoners, assembled on the upper deck, bade a
very sorrowful farewell to the shores of our dear Fatherland. Long and
sadly did we gaze upon the fast receding land from which we expected
to be alienated for ever. Notwithstanding our depressing
circumstances, however, we attempted plu