The New York Times/Mr. Winston Churchill's Capture
I turned and ran between the rails of the track, and the only thought I achieved was this: "Boer marksmanship." Two bullets passed, both within a foot on either side. I flung myself against the banks of the cutting. But they gave no cover. Another glance at the figures: one was now kneeling to aim. Again I darted forward. Movement seemed the only chance. Again two soft kisses sucked in the air, but nothing struck me. This could no endure. I must get out of the cutting - that damnable corridor. I scrambled up the bank. The earth sprang up beside me, and something touched my hand, but outside the cutting was a tiny depression. I crouched in this, struggling to get my wind. On the other side of the railway a horseman galloped up shouting to me and waving his hand. He was scarcely forty yards off. With a rifle I could have killed him easily. I knew nothing of white flags and the bullets had made me savage. I reached down for my Mauser pistol.
"This one, at least," I said, and, indeed, it was a certainty; but, alas! I had left the weapon in the cab of the engine, in order to be free to work at the wreckage. What then? There was a wire fence between me and the horseman. Should I continue to fly? The idea of another shot at such a short range decided me. Death stood before me, grim, sullen Death, without his light-hearted companion, Chance. So I held up my hand, and, like Mr. Jorrock's foxes, cried: 'Capivy.' Then I was herded with the other prisoners in a miserable group, and about the same time I noticed that my hand was bleeding, and it began to pour with rain. Two days before I had written to an officer in high command at home, whose friendship I have the honor to enjoy: 'There has been a great deal too much surrendering in this war, and I hope people who do so will not be encouraged.' Fate had intervened; yet, though her tone was full of irony, she seemed to say, as I think Ruskin once said, 'It matters very little whether your judgments of people are true or untrue, and very much whether they are kind or unkind,' and, repeating that, I will make an end."