November were quiet, rain and mist interfering with the enemy's
bombardment. November 12 was, however, a somewhat eventful day,
owing to the birth of the first siege-baby, and the arrival in camp
of an Irish-American deserter from the Boers.

The baby, says Mr. Pearse in his diary (12th November), was born, not in
a dug-out by the river, but at a farm on a hill in the centre of
defensive works, where Mr. and Mrs. Moore, with their other children,
have elected to take the chances, near where I and other correspondents
have pitched our tents. Mrs. Moore made one trial of an underground
shelter, and then gave it up, saying that she should certainly die in
that damp atmosphere, so that it would be better to take the risk of
living where one could get fresh air, even though exposed to shells. The
Irish-American's story, though not to be swallowed without salt, tended
to confirm some things that seemed strange in the fight of three days
earlier, when, as will be remembered, Lieutenant Fisher's detachment
claimed to have shot many of a body that marched into action boldly with
a red flag flaunting at their head. The deserter said that the Irish
brigade that day lost heavily, having now only seventy-three left of the
original three hundred and fifty, and that ten Irishmen were killed by
one of our shells.

It was not with a good grace that Sir George White's garrison
resigned themselves to inaction. Their state of mind is shown
clearly enough by Mr. Pearse in a letter written on 14th November,
and describing the situation at this period.

_November 14._--The British troops here have their backs up now, and
grumble at the fate that chains them to a passive defence, when they
would wish for nothing better than to try conclusions with their foes at