“April 20th, 1847.—To-day is the anniversary of our sad intelligence from the Amatolas, with its list of killed and wounded. It is a singular fact that the Kaffirs themselves dislike to be questioned concerning the remains of poor Captain Bambrick, but have no hesitation in speaking of other sufferers.
“Within the year we have heard of the death of the late Lieutenant-Governor of the Eastern Province of the Cape of Good Hope. Major-General Hare died on board the ‘Essex,’ four days after leaving this country for England. He, indeed, may be considered as one of the principal victims of the war. Long ere the irruption burst forth, he should have been at home. In 1845, finding his health declining, he expressed desire to be relieved from the duties of his appointment, and it is most deeply to be deplored that his wishes were not complied with at once. When he was called to the field, all ideas of self were laid aside; and who shall say what the gallant soldier suffered, in mind and body, at the very moment the cheers of encouragement burst from his lips? Whatever may be said of his political career, when Lieutenant-Governor, the difficulties he had to contend with would, if explained, be sufficient excuse for many errors set down as wilful. He is dead! and it is a pleasure to recall his many excellent qualities. If he was not the man for South Africa, let it be remembered that, during the most eventful period of his government, he was here against his will, and that, having led his old corps against the ungrateful Gaikas, whom it had been his chief fault to trust and treat too kindly—when, I say, he had headed the 27th once more, with honour to himself and them, he left the field, debilitated from fatigue and anxiety; and it was not until the mountains of the land in which he had suffered so much had faded from his sight, that ‘he turned his face to the wall,’ in the cheerless cabin of that restless ship, and died of a broken heart; for such, in fact, his disease may be pronounced.”
One of the last anecdotes recorded of him, though trifling, is one of the many proofs of his kind nature. When about to leave Fort Beaufort for the field, and engaged in giving over the command of the Northern District to Captain Ward, 91st Regiment, his attention was diverted from the arrangements for defence to a little child who passed him by, looking up smilingly in his face. Bastions, forts, bridges, picquet-houses, etc, faded from the mind of the single-hearted soldier; the child’s smile was returned, and the kind eyes followed her retreating footsteps till she passed out of sight. The attention of the officer engaged with Colonel Hare was more particularly recalled to this little incident, by his Commander returning gravely and officially to the solemn charge he was handing over, namely, the defence of a large garrison town, with scarcely any garrison to protect it. It may be added that Mrs Hare was one of the inhabitants left to the mercy of the invaders, who, however, never came beyond the outskirts of the place; and Colonel Hare was pleased to express himself highly satisfied with the arrangements made by Captain Ward. Neither cattle nor horses were lost in the immediate neighbourhood of Fort Beaufort, during the period of that officer’s command, nor did the enemy venture to fulfil their threat of invasion.
The registration system is dying a natural death; at least, such an inference may be drawn from the order lately given to officers, not to inquire for their tickets of Kaffirs who may be found driving cattle. Many months ago, a party of the 27th Regiment, suspecting that some cattle found in a kraal was stolen, demanded the necessary credentials, when a Kaffir coolly offered as such, a leaf from a soldier’s pocket ledger, picked up, perhaps, after the burning of the waggons at Burn’s Hill.
The immediate border of the Colony was subject to the usual depredations; the Chiefs making the old excuse, that they “are sitting still, but that they cannot control their people.”
The post established at Waterloo Bay, under the command of Captain Savage, 91st Regiment, became the favourite haunt of these thieving wretches, in consequence of the number of waggons collected there, waiting for supplies. A clear front offers a great temptation to these cattle-lifters; and, on the 22nd of April, Lieutenant Butler, 7th Dragoon Guards, had a smart gallop after the enemy. On the 21st, sixty waggon-oxen were whistled away through the bush: the Dragoons pursued them; but, sighting them at dark, could not come up with them in time to attack the thieves. From the scanty force we have, compared with the land we have taken, sufficient guards cannot be given for the cattle in the pasture-grounds, sometimes a mile from the posts, and, by the time the herds,—if not shot,—can give notice of the loss, the Kaffirs, with half-an-hour’s start, can generally elude their pursuers. But, on the 22nd of April, the Dragoons, only ten in number, were in the saddle in a few minutes; yet, notwithstanding this, they had a ride of fifteen miles before they came up with their game, having traced the spoor along the sea-coast. The robbers were caught at the mouth of the Beka River, where Lieutenant Butler cut them off. The cattle were retaken, and three of the enemy killed. Only four had been employed in the marauding expedition, though, doubtless, there was a horde in the bush. The fourth fell to Mr Butler’s lot to despatch; and he, having ridden down the savage, struck him on the head with his sabre, which broke at the hilt; and the Kaffir, clinging to the officer’s stirrups, and imploring mercy, Mr Butler gave him his life, and took him on, as a prisoner, to Waterloo Bay, with some guns and a number of assegais. Unfortunately, in his transit from Waterloo Bay to Fort Peddie, being tied by one hand to a waggon, he soon slipped the reim (Note 1), and escaped.
On the 30th of April, a soldier of the 6th was found murdered very near the camp.
Colonel Somerset lately recommended that a guard of cavalry should be placed at the ebb and flow-drift near the mouth of the Keiskama, this river lying between the Great Fish and Buffalo Rivers, to intercept marauders; but there are no cavalry to send thither; and, at this juncture, we hear of troubles with the Griquas and Boers, near the Orange River. The Resident, Captain Warden, Cape Mounted Rifles, has applied for troops, and Lieutenant Plestow, 7th Dragoon Guards, has marched to the Modda River, with thirty men of his regiment.
Lieutenant Davis, late Adjutant of the 90th Light Infantry, having been appointed Superintendent of Native Police, has succeeded in drilling and organising a very efficient force, consisting chiefly of “tame” Kaffirs.
During our residence at Fort Peddie in 1843-4, we were frequently struck with the idleness of the Fingoes. The women, poor creatures, tilled the ground, carried water, cut wood, ground the corn,—in short, did all the heavy work; and the little boys and old men herded the cattle; while the young men, unless called out on a commando, for a few weeks or days in a year, spent their time in hunting, dancing, eating, and sleeping, and, not unfrequently, in lifting their neighbours’ cattle. It was at this period that Captain Ward, 91st Regiment, deprecating so weak a system, proposed to the Lieutenant-Governor to have these Fingoes organised, armed, and drilled as regular troops, by British non-commissioned officers; but Colonel Hare neither then nor afterwards dreamed of the mine which was about to explode beneath his feet, and the suggestion was not seriously considered by his Honour.
When we read of the distress of our own country, and of the wretched earnings of our mechanics, we are disgusted at the idea of these same Fingoes striking work (as Coolies) at Waterloo Bay, being dissatisfied with the pay of 2 shillings a day. As their services are necessary in landing cargo, their demand of 3 shillings a day has been acceded to, and they have consented to work, when it suits them! for they take occasional holidays, for dancing and eating. At Algoa Bay, the Fingoes are often paid 6 shillings a day for working as Coolies.
What a settlement for the starving Highlanders the Amatola Mountains would be! And what employment offers itself along the coast for the active Irish! If the Amatolas were devoted partially to agriculture, instead of pasturage, or to sheep-farming, with a view to the exportation of wool, there would be comparatively no temptation for the Kaffir, and a New Erin might rise, upon the eastern shore of this fertile country. Its very productiveness renders agriculture an uncertain speculation, in consequence of the small population: here again, emigration provides the remedy. It is to be hoped that the Royal Society will send hither intelligent and truthful individuals, who would make none but just reports of the capabilities of the colony. Coffee, sugar, and innumerable other articles might be raised here; flax, particularly, would be successful; and the discovery of coal at Natal, leads scientific men to infer that it is to be found elsewhere. At the Kowie, it is pretty well ascertained to be in existence. We learn from Natal, that the military there are intent on farming, the productive soil tempting many to purchase land, with the intention of settling. We might thin our dark mines of England, by sending men to South Africa, to work the treasures of her earth. It is, however, of the utmost importance, that the Emigration Societies should be particular as to the class of people selected.
Captain Hogg, 7th Dragoon Guards, has succeeded in raising another levy of about 200 Hottentots from the lower districts, who are expected at Waterloo Bay on the 10th of May. Lieutenant Forsyth, R.N., is relieved from his duties as a harbour-master at this bay by Lieutenant Connolly, R.N. Lieutenant Forsyth was appointed to this office at the Buffalo Mouth, 30th of April. The long-looked-for vessel, the “Frederick Huth,” has at last reached the Buffalo in safety, after a month’s voyage from Port Elizabeth, Algoa Bay. She was seen three weeks since off the Buffalo, and was driven back to Waterloo Bay. At last, she was again sighted eight or ten miles from her place of destination: a mist came on, and it was doubtful whether she could make her way over the bar. At length, the curtain of vapour, which hung between Colonel Van der Meulen’s camp and the ocean, was lifted up, and there at last lay the welcome ship at anchor. The landing of the cargo is progressing favourably, which is at this moment of great advantage to the troops, their provisions being at a very low ebb.
The first step taken by the Lieutenant-Governor, Sir Henry Young, has been to send the Chief, Umyeki, out of Graham’s Town.
“May 10th.—Further particulars have been received of the murder of the soldier of the 6th. Those on the spot, and most capable of judging, are of opinion that this horrible deed has been committed by Fingoes. It seems that, on the unhappy man’s cries being heard, the guard rushed to his assistance. A little pool of blood was observed near the spot where he had fallen, and he had been dragged some sixty yards along the road. A gun-shot wound in the body, and an assegai stab in the heart, had silenced his cries speedily. The spoor of three or four men was traced towards Peddie; and, as the murdered man had some tobacco about him, and an empty case, with a hatchet beside it, lay near him, it is supposed, that, having gone to fetch some stolen and secreted tobacco from the bush, he was waylaid by Fingoes and murdered, for the sake of the plunder. As no cattle were near the place, it is not likely that Kaffirs would be lurking there.
“We have an instance to-day, the 19th of May, of our enemy’s perseverance and determination, in the report from a patrol in search of stolen cattle. A private of the Rifle Brigade, having lost his way in the bush, heard Kaffirs approaching the spot where he lay perdu; thanks to his green jacket, he was enabled to watch the movements of the savages, without decided danger to himself. They approached a kloof, in which one of their number awaited them. The rifleman saw them handing their arms to the Kaffirs in the ravine, who concealed them in some nook selected for the purpose. Watching his opportunity, the soldier effected his journey back to the camp; and, on giving his information, Lieutenant Macdonald, and a party of the Cape Mounted Rifles, were sent out to search the spot, for the muskets and ammunition hidden. From this, it may be inferred that there are many similar depôts of arms in the bush.”
Note 1. “Reims” are strips of bullock-hide used as thongs, and constantly carried in this country, by experienced travellers, for repairing broken girths, etc, and so on. One day, when out riding, my stirrup-leather broke, and the Orderly of the Cape Corps was about to receive a sharp reproof from the Officer who accompanied me, for not having a reim, when he pulled some hairs out of his horse’s tail, which served the purpose at once.
Sandilla came into Graham’s Town, as a captive, on Sunday, the 25th of October, 1847, closely guarded by a body of Cape Mounted Riflemen and 7th Dragoon Guards, under Captain Bisset and Lieutenant Petre, and attended by the Councillors, and his own brother, Anta (a young man of great talents and energy, and his chief warrior), he rode through the streets, just as the church doors opened to send forth the Christian observers of the Sabbath. Bare-headed, and with downcast eyes, his withered limb hanging below his kaross, marking him as the restless Gaika,—he who had issued his “word” from the mountain-side, over his wide-spread and beautiful territory, now passed on a prisoner, followed by a few Hottentot boys!
How little could that wild creature comprehend the feelings of white men, as they watched him on his way! There was, of course, great satisfaction at seeing him thus secured; but all anger would have been as much thrown away on him as on the wild beast which it is necessary to cage. The cavalcade moved slowly through the streets, the Drostdy barrack-ground is reached, the soldiers on guard at last behold the man whom they have so long sought—the door of a large empty store is thrown open, and, in another moment, the fallen Chief sits down, in that dim space, with his followers. The free air and the bright sun make but little way through the narrow loop-holes, and the shape and aspect of his prison must offer a wretched contrast to the broad valleys and free mountain paths which the ill-advised and misguided Lord of the Amakosas has forfeited.
It was the useful green-jackets, the untiring Rifle Brigade, who worried Sandilla out of his hiding-place among the mountains. In June, the troops were about to hut themselves for the first months of the winter season, which, in this climate, is so uncertain as to render all calculations relative to military movements useless. Our enemy took advantage of this temporary cessation of hostilities to burn all the grass, from the Buffalo to the Kei, and to take his usual pastime in cattle-stealing. Happily, the Colony was tolerably well guarded, and the boundary vigilantly watched; the colonists, too, had not only much less cattle to lose, but took the precaution of drawing nearer the towns, with their families and property.
Sandilla remained in the neighbourhood of Fort Hare during the pause in our operations. On the other side of the Buffalo River, Páto was coquetting with the authorities, now sending Jan Tzatzoe with a conciliatory message, and now making his simple-minded brother, Cobus Congo, an envoy to our camps with a flag of truce, and hollow protestations. At last, he consented to come in and surrender himself unconditionally, as was required by the Government; but this step was prevented by a skirmish between our troops and Sandilla’s immediate followers. Páto, of course, changed his mind, to wait the result of this affair, handed over the stolen cattle to the care of Kreli, beyond the Kei, and sat down quietly to observe our proceeding.
The affair in question, which took place on the 15th of June, was as follows:—
Some colonial property (goats and horses) were stolen by Kaffirs from the Kat river settlement; the spoor of these was traced to the territory of Sandilla, who, with every appearance of good faith, returned them to Fort Hare. But, although he did this, he determined on turning the robbery to good account, and punished the thief by “eating him up,” appropriating his cattle to his own royal purposes, thus taking the law into his own hands; and, finally, refusing to give up the thief to the patrol sent for him by our authorities. This patrol consisted of two troops of the 7th Dragoon Guards, two companies of the 45th Regiment, small detachments of the Cape Corps, a Fingo levy, and eighty of the Kaffir Police. These were deputed to demand the thief, and a fine of three head of cattle, from the Gaika Chief. The cunning Sandilla “knew nothing of the thief,” the goats “had been found straying.” The troops secured the Chief’s cattle; but, on their return towards Fort Hare, were waylaid by the Kaffirs in great numbers. These called out, “You have done well to come to the old graves,” alluding to the battle at Burn’s Hill, in April, 1846; and, following the troops nearly to Fort Hare, they succeeded in re-capturing almost all the cattle, exclaiming, as they retired with their prize, “By and by, you will learn wisdom, and not come again.”
Lieutenant Davis was in command of the Kaffir Police, so successfully organised by him, on this occasion. These men “fought bravely, and did good service against their countrymen,” “a fact,” says the Graham’s Town Journal, “which only shows that, when self-interest is sufficiently influential, they will sacrifice those of their own blood with as little remorse as they will the colonists.” (Their treachery has since been plainly manifested.) Lieutenant Russell, of the Kaffir Police, was killed, at the early age of twenty-three; eight or ten casualties, killed and wounded, occurred on our side, and several of the enemy are supposed to have fallen.
The Christian Kaffir, Kama, who had served us well during this war, against the Tambookies, remonstrated when called upon to fight against the Gaikas. He was willing, he said, to defend the white man’s property and rights, and this he did with the remnant of his tribe, but he begged the Government would not insist on his attacking his own people in their haunts. Kama and his little band have not eaten the bread of idleness during the war; cattle have been rescued by them, positions defended, and safe escort to travellers afforded.
On Sir George Berkeley reaching Fort Hare, on the 22nd of June, Sandilla sent him a few cows as a peace-offering for his late offence, saying, that “the account was fairly balanced in the late affray with his people—two being killed on either side; and he therefore hoped nothing more would be said about it.” Sir George Berkeley returned to Graham’s Town a few days after, and it being determined to trust no longer to Sandilla’s promises, it was resolved to commence active operations against him in August or September. Meanwhile Sir Henry Pottinger published a proclamation, dated 7th August, declaring Sandilla a rebel, and no longer under the protection of the British Government, and calling on all to assemble in Commandos against him; the final clause related to the neutral tribes, and closed in these words:
“I do strictly, solemnly, and unqualifiedly enjoin and command all persons heaping allegiance to her Majesty, to refrain from molesting such neutral (or friendly) Kaffirs, and to consider the protection of them and their lives and property to be a paramount duty.”
So, now, this headstrong savage became a hunted outlaw. He who had vowed to drive the white man to the sea,—that white man who should not “taste of the Tyumie waters,”—had not now a resting-place for his head!
The remembrance of an interview I once had with Tola (Tola, Dodo, Eno, Moshesh (Moses), will be recognised as patriarchal names) occurs to me at this moment. It was in a picturesque spot near Colonel Somerset’s residence at Post Victoria, in the centre of a large bower, which had been constructed round some splendid trees. What had once been a fair pasture land for Tola’s herds, was now worn with the tread of soldiers’ feet; the stir of the camp filled the air which once breathed over a comparatively silent space, and not far from us a band played Irish tunes, to which Tola’s Kaffir councillors and attendants listened with a grave silence, unmoved at the grotesque attitudes of Hottentot children. On a rustic bench sat Tola, with his kaross wound round him; his face resembled that of a wolf—his eyes glaring and the teeth projecting, and his hair, dressed with red clay, looked more like a knitted worsted wig than anything else. There were other ladies present besides myself, and also some officers. I asked Tola if he belonged to the war-party? He replied, it was only the young men of Kaffirland who were for war,—he loved peace. He is the freebooter of his tribe!
“Why,” I asked, “are the young men permitted to raise their voices above the old ones?”
“The young men are numerous, and hold the assegai.”
“Well, have the old men no power to restrain them from throwing it?” I inquired. “If so, Young Kaffirland will soon have the voice in council, and there will be little wisdom.”
Tola sat in deep silence many minutes, and then observed, “It is true.” He afterwards asked the interpreter how it was that white women spoke with the minds of men? A female offering any opinion at all was a source of astonishment to him. The Kaffir women are, however, remarkable for shrewdness; but this is seldom exercised but upon great occasions, and then only by witch-doctresses, who profess also to have the gift of prophecy.
All this time that Tola was professing to deprecate war, he was filling his kraals with colonial cattle, sending out marauding parties (gipsies), and collecting ammunition.
An English paper states, “it is said that the attack on the escort in charge of a Kaffir prisoner, was absolutely planned, by Bothman and Tola, on the market-place at Fort Beaufort.” That it was planned there, and carried into execution an hour or two afterwards, I know, and that Tola was the planner. Bothman is an inferior Chief and quite dropsical. We one day met him out riding; he begged us to raise our veils, which we did, laughing, and he acknowledged the courtesy by a sound between a bark and a sigh.
When the movement of the troops was anticipated by Sandilla, he named Macomo’s son, Kona, as his successor, in the event of his death. Of Kona’s wife, an anecdote, illustrative of her shrewdness, was told me by the Acting Quartermaster-General at Block Drift. During a foray made on a Kaffir kraal in that neighbourhood, the enemy fired on our troops, and managed, ere the fire was returned, to screen themselves behind some of their women. Among these was Kona’s wife. Some days afterwards, she presented herself to Capt. Scott, 91st Regiment, Acting Quartermaster-General, saying that Colonel Hare had desired her to ask him for rations, in consequence of her previous suffering and distress. As a token of the truth of her statement, she produced a biscuit which Colonel Hare had given her, desiring her, she said, to show it to Captain Scott, in proof of her assertion. Rations were issued to her, and she enjoyed them till Colonel Hare counter-ordered them, never having mentioned the subject to her: he had merely given her a biscuit when he met her, as she complained of hunger!
We were not sorry to hear that the women of Kaffirland began to dread an invasion of their kraals, and threatened to strike work. They were tired of the war, they said. Although they have no voice, their assistance in the Ordnance and Commissariat departments is invaluable. Poor wretches! no wonder they dreaded another year of privation and toil.
The advantages of the opening of the Buffalo River were particularly manifested in the facility with which the “Rosamond” steamer landed troops and ordnance stores there, on the 28th of July, in the space of two hours and a half, in perfect safety; and the 90th thus accomplished in little more than a fortnight, a journey which, by the old route, could not have been performed under at least six weeks, and most probably two months.
A tradition has been handed down among the Kaffirs, similar to a superstition entertained by the Burmese. To the latter, it had been foretold by their priests that, as soon as a vessel without sails, or rowers, should be seen in the Irawaddy River, Burmah would fall. The appearance of the “Enterprise” steamer in their river daunted their spirits, and contributed in a great measure, to discourage the Burmese troops. The Kaffirs relate, that a prophecy exists among them to the effect “that when sea-waggons shall make their resting-places in the mouth of the Buffalo, Kaffirland shall die.”
The 20th of August had been originally fixed for the march upon the Amatolas, but unavoidable delays occurred, which might have been disadvantageous, but that time was given for the grass to grow which the enemy had burned. The Cape Corps, with the addition of several young officers, left Graham’s Town in high spirits at the prospect of “smelling powder,” but the Burghers were, in most instances, unwilling to take the field, notwithstanding the promise held out to them, that the cattle they might take should become their property.
In September, all became anxious for the march of the British troops upon the Amatolas. Various reports were afloat, some of them probably having originated among the Kaffirs themselves. Sandilla was said to be assembling his warriors; Páto and Kreli were to combine their forces; and many other similar rumours, not to be relied on, but sufficiently alarming to the inhabitants of isolated farms, were circulated.
Sir George Berkeley left Graham’s Town for the front; Colonel Somerset marshalled his people along the Buffalo line; and on the 17th of September the army was fairly set in motion, with its face towards one great rallying-point, the mountains of the Amatola, which were to be entered at three given points, viz, by the Burgher and Native levies, under Major Sutton, Cape Mounted Riflemen, and Captain Hogg, 7th Dragoon Guards, from Shiloh, upon the upper part of the Amatola; Colonel Somerset, with the Cape Mounted Rifles, from King William’s Town; and Lieutenant-Colonel Campbell, with reserve battalion 91st Regiment, a strong detachment of the 45th, and some Burghers, from Fort Hare. I subjoin, as much more graphic than any description of mine, the following account of the “gathering” of the Reserve Battalion, 91st, at Fort Beaufort, on the morning of their march to Fort Hare, where they were to take up their position previously to their movements on the enemy’s territories. The extract is from “a letter addressed by a young soldier to his friend.”
“The Colonel (Campbell) and our men left this on the 17th, and after scouring every hole and corner in the Amatolas, succeeded, I believe in killing some fourteen Kaffirs. Colonel Campbell took the pipes with him, gaily decorated with ribbons and a flag. The drums played them out with ‘The Campbells are coming.’ They were all in good spirits; and, as they passed the barracks from the main square, the men who were left behind commenced cheering them, and they returned it with a will. I don’t think there was one left that would not gladly have gone to the field at that moment, especially under such a Commander as Colonel Campbell. After searching the kloofs, the division ascended the hill, where the Kaffirs were so civil to us at first, and, not seeing the enemy, they had a dance at the top, the pipes playing a national tune, to which — danced the Highland Fling, just to begin the performance.” (Note 1.)
After eighteen months’ warfare, with so harassing and treacherous a foe, it was something to see men start again with such spirit for their work.
Sir George Berkeley made good use of the unavoidable postponement of the march upon the enemy. The camps were well stored with provisions and ammunition, supplies were laid in for a hundred days, and everything was made ready for military movements, when the time should arrive for them. Thieving went on, but the Colony escaped another irruption, owing to the boundaries being well garrisoned.
The Commander-in-Chief having waited till the great machine was prepared to work, set it in motion, and, on the 20th of September, each division was at the post appointed for co-operating with the others. All was well arranged, and Sir George Berkeley gave good evidence of his generalship in his determination not to make an advance without a large force, well provisioned, and unencumbered with baggage. There were three grand divisions; these encamped on their allotted ground, and from their camps sent forth their patrols into the mountain passes, without waggons, and in the lightest marching order.
Note 1. During the advance of the enemy on Block Drift, at the beginning of the war, and when this post was commanded by Lieutenant-Colonel (then Major Campbell), he took up a position on the top of the school-house, rifle in hand; four men were employed in loading his arms for him, and he brought down two of the enemy successively in a few minutes. When a third fell dead, a soldier of the reserve battalion 91st Regiment, could restrain himself no longer; forgetting Colonel Campbell’s rank as an officer, in his delight at his prowess as a soldier, the man slapped his Commanding Officer on the back with a shout of delight, and the exclamation, “Weel done, Sodger!” Was not such a compliment worth all the praise of an elaborate despatch.
The rain fell in torrents throughout the Colony, but this did not deter the patrols from advancing on the enemy’s country. As the Kaffirs did not think it wise to show themselves to such large bodies of troops, nothing took place, at first, but a conflagration among the huts and kraals of the contumacious Gaikas; it was, however, well-known, that they had not left their hiding-places. Towards the Mancazana, some houses were fired, probably in retaliation, and the usual system of cattle-lifting, though to less extent, was carried on in the Colony by gipsy parties of the enemy.
In the meantime, old Sutu, Sandilla’s mother, sent word to Sir George Berkeley that Sandilla was “the Governor’s dog,” etc, etc; that, “if the Government would accept his submission, he would behave better,” and so on. These messages were like all the rest—hollow and designing. The Kaffirs under Tyalie, a petty Chief, having captured twelve hundred head of cattle from Sandilla, claimed a right, as British subjects, to retain them, according to the Governor’s notice; but, as this was suspected to be a ruse adopted by Sandilla himself, the troops under Lieutenant-Colonel Campbell, Reserve Battalion, 91st Regiment, were sent forward to secure the cattle.
Several Kaffirs, caught in the act of stealing were brought into King William’s Town; and, after receiving one hundred lashes, were dismissed. Prison rations were thus dispensed with, and these Kaffirs became, for a period a least, a warning and a mockery to their tribes. In Kaffirland, as in China, disgrace is attached to a thief, not for stealing, but for being found out.
The division under Major Sutton, Cape Mounted Rifles, and Captain Hogg, 7th Dragoon Guards, which had moved from Shiloh, captured two hundred head of cattle in the Amatolas, and killed a few Kaffirs; with the loss, on our side, of Serjeant Phillips, Cape Mounted Rifles, and formerly of the 91st.
Although incessant rains deluged the country, the troops continued healthy. In reply to Sandilla’s messages, Jan T’Jatzoe was desired to intimate to him that no terms would be listened to from him but those of unconditional surrender.
This T’Jatzoe, to whom I have before alluded as a Kaffir who had been exhibited in England (at Exeter Hall, at Sheffield, etc, in 1836) in the false character of a Christian Chief, played a cunning part during the war of 1846-7, and was actually engaged in the attack on the waggons at Trumpeter’s Drift. The British public were completely imposed upon by this savage heathen, for such he is, and ever will be. On his return from England, whither he had gone, or rather been taken, in direct opposition to the orders and wishes of his father, a petty Chief (Note 1), he was asked many questions by his tribe, concerning the country he had visited.
“Was it large?”
“Yes, it was large; but the people were so numerous they found it small.”
“Were they so very numerous?”
“Yes; England was like a huge piece of meat covered with flies crowding upon each other.”
“What surprised him most?”
“The waggons which travelled without oxen or horses.” (Railway carriages.)
“Ah,” said Macomo, after a conversation of this kind with T’Jatzoe, “I have always told our people, that there was no use in trying to conquer the white man. It is like little boys attempting to shoot elephants with small bows and arrows.”
Macomo, with all his people were removed to the neighbourhood of Algoa Bay. He was opposed to the war, from policy, from the beginning; but when once the cry was raised in the mountains, he immediately assumed the command, being the General of the Gaikas, and, when sober, an able warrior and councillor. He was glad when an opportunity offered of surrendering himself, the charms of the canteen superseding the desire for glory among his tribe; but he used every means to remain on his old location. His appeal was pathetic enough, but we have profited somewhat by our experience in the “word of a Kaffir.” “Here,” said he, stretching his hand over the beautiful territory, “my father, a great Chief, dwelt; these pastures were crowded with cattle”, stolen, of course; “here I have lived to grow old; here my children have been born; let me die in peace where I have so long lived.” These entreaties, however, could not be listened to for one moment; and, as a last trial, his daughter, Amakeya, the beauty of Kaffirland, made her way to the tent of Colonel Campbell, 91st Regiment, who, totally unprepared for her appearance, was yet more astonished at the sacrifice she offered, if her father’s sentence of banishment might be rescinded.
I have elsewhere mentioned Amakeya as the belle of the camp at Fort Hare, and no doubt she had been sufficiently reminded of her charms to make her sensible of the value of them. She made her strange offer in all the consciousness and pride of beauty; and, with her finely-moulded arms folded before her, she spoke without hesitation, for she was guided by motives worthy a lofty cause—motives, how desecrated! how degraded! Poor Amakeya!
“If her father might remain on his own lands,” she said, “she would be the sacrifice and guarantee for his future good faith towards the white man. She would leave her own people, and follow Colonel Campbell; his home should be hers; she would forsake all, and dwell with him. This was her last word, her final decision, and she would abide by it.”
It may here be observed, that the young girls in Kaffirland are brought up with strict notions of female propriety; to forfeit their reputation, is to entail on themselves severe punishment, and on their families perpetual disgrace.
Amakeya’s motives were not unappreciated by her hearer, but the proposal was, of course, rejected, with every consideration for her position, and the circumstances by which she had been actuated; and she departed with her father on his journey. We may fancy Amakeya taking a last look at the green places wherein her childhood had been passed, and finally sitting down among a strange people, in sight of the “great waters.” A new and wondrous spectacle to that mountain-girl must have been that mighty and pathless sea.
On the 4th of October, an express arrived at King William’s Town, containing the information, that the division under Colonel Somerset had captured one thousand head of cattle, and a number of horses and goats, at a sweep, and had killed eight of the enemy. The division under Colonel Campbell had also been successful in capturing cattle among the Gaikas, as well as some horses, and in killing some twenty of the enemy, and laying waste his country. The detachment of the 45th, under Major Hind, did good service with Colonel Campbell’s column; and afterwards accompanied the head-quarter division to the Kei, together with two companies of the Reserve Battalion of the 91st, under Captain Scott and Colonel Campbell, with Lieutenants Dixon and Metcalfe.
The same work went on, from day to day. Now, our troops captured cattle from the Gaikas, who, it was ascertained, were a good deal disorganised (Macomo foretold this, saying “they could not fight when he was gone”); and now Páto’s I’Slambies slipped away with the oxen pastured near our camps and bivouacs. The rains poured on, and the troops, though healthy, suffered from the unusual cold. There was nothing to be done with the enemy but to worry him; which was attended with dreadful harass to us.
As was conjectured, by those who knew the character of the Gaikas, Sandilla and his people had not entirely abandoned the Amatolas; the Chief had secreted himself in one of the deep valleys of those mountains, near a stream called by the Kaffirs, the “Wolf’s River.” The nature of the ground secured him from the approach of cavalry, but it was just the place for the operations of the Rifle Brigade. Sir George Berkeley’s plan of patrolling the country, and falling back on camps well stored with provisions, in the very neighbourhood of Sandilla, soon drove the rebel Chief from his haunts. Abandoned by many of his people, his crops destroyed, his dwelling burned, his cattle scattered among those he could not trust, and deprived of Macomo’s support, he found himself constantly exposed to the fire of our troops, and at one time, it is said, he dared not venture to slake his thirst at the stream for four-and-twenty hours. Thus worn out, without the slightest advantage to himself or his nation, he resolved on surrendering; and, sending to King William’s Town a message to the effect that “he was driven to this step by the prospect of starvation,” some bread and meat were forwarded to him by his envoys; and, on the 19th of October, the troops in the camp, commanded by Colonel Buller, Rifle Brigade, looked anxiously, through the mists of a stormy day, for the expected prisoner. He came at last, followed by eighty of his people; and, after an interview with Colonel Buller, “an escort of dragoons, which had been in readiness,” was ordered to accompany Captain Bisset, Cape Mounted Rifles, and Lieutenant Petre, 7th Dragoon Guards, with the captive Chief, and the necessary dispatches from the Lieutenant-General commanding, to Sir Henry Pottinger. Captain Bisset, on that day, the 20th of October, rode 120 miles.
Sandilla admitted that he had been nearly taken by a patrol of the Rifle Brigade, acting with Colonel Somerset’s division, on the 12th of October. The party had lost their way while skirmishing; but for this, he must have surrendered to them, or been shot. He afterwards told Colonel Campbell, 91st, that on one occasion they had been within 1200 feet of each other, the Chief watching Colonel Campbell from the bush. When passing, as a prisoner, near the camp of this officer, Sandilla stopped his horse, and, calling to the former “My friend, my friend, come hither!” begged to shake hands with him. Colonel Campbell’s good advice to the misguided Gaika had been unheeded, and the latter now acknowledged the truth of what the Colonel had told him, that “it was madness to fight with the white man, who would not be conquered, even though the war were to last for ever.”
In the announcement by Sir Henry Pottinger, that the surrender of Sandilla had taken place, His Excellency the High Commissioner records “the high sense he entertains of the zeal and energy with which the operations against Sandilla had been carried on under the Lieutenant-General’s guidance, in which operations the troops and levies have been subjected to great hardships, and exposed to unusually inclement weather.”
Immediately after the surrender of Sandilla, Colonel Somerset planned his forward movement towards the Kei, with a force upwards of 1200 strong, including cavalry, infantry, and levies. The country beyond the Kei was known to be swarming with cattle.
On the 30th of October the troops made a night march of thirty miles towards the Kei, and, on the morning of the 31st, reached a stream called Chechabe. On the heights above this little river, the Kaffirs were seen gathering in great numbers, and at last took up a very strong position, evidently determined to make a stand against the British force. The latter was soon disposed in battle array in front of the enemy, with flankers thrown out, supports in the rear, and the reserve under Captain Bentinck, 7th Dragoon Guards. The Cape Mounted Rifles, led by Captain O’Reilly, advanced up the face of the hill, the enemy, as usual, screening himself, while the troops moved slowly but steadily onwards, under the incessant fire of the Kaffirs, until within eighty yards of them, when, the bugle sounding the gallop, the “Totties” cheered, and entered the bush in gallant style. In twenty minutes, the savages were dislodged, and driven over a hill into a ravine below, leaving behind them arms, karosses, and several horses. Seventeen of them were counted dead after the engagement; many had been borne off, and the rocks over winch they had been dragged were streaming with blood. In this affair, our troops sustained but two casualties.
Colonel Somerset considered that this gathering of the Kaffirs was arranged to divert his attention from the cattle concealed not far from the scene of action, the Kei being in too swollen a state to permit their crossing into Kreli’s country—the Amaponda. This was, no doubt, correct; and as, from the nature of the country, it was impossible for the troops to follow the enemy at once, they vanished, as usual, in the deep recesses of the mountains.
Early in the morning of the 31st, Captain Somerset, Aide-de-Camp to General Berkeley, had very nearly fallen a sacrifice to his imprudence in venturing out, en amateur, with a single orderly, on the spoor of cattle. A party of Kaffirs suddenly appearing, Captain Somerset turned his horse’s head; so did his orderly: the speed of Captain Somerset’s charger saved his rider’s life; the poor orderly fell from his, and his throat was instantly cut by the savages.
It was hoped that the success of Colonel Somerset, at the Chechabe, would daunt Páto; but no offers of submission worth listening to were received. A few Kaffirs, coming within hail of the troops, called out that they “did not intend fighting any more; the cattle were across the Kei, and the Umlunghi must go for them if they wanted them.” Either Páto or one of his councillors shouted aloud, “We will not meet you, but will return into the Colony, and wander as wolves.”
Although I had seen Sandilla at Fort Peddie in 1843, I went to pay him a visit in captivity. The room in which he was imprisoned was half filled with his followers and councillors. Seated on an iron bedstead, with his blanket wound round him, he smoked his pipe in silence; some of his followers reclined idly on the straw mattresses provided for them; and, by the side of the young Chief’s couch lay Anta, whom he roused from sleep on our naming him, for he was as great an object of interest as Sandilla. Putting aside the blanket from his face, he sat up and eyed us keenly, looking from us to his brother, but what was passing within their minds no one could divine; their countenances expressed neither surprise, curiosity, resentment, nor dislike. Some sat round a fire in the centre of the room, and one aged Kaffir, with a grey head, gazed earnestly in our faces. This was one of Sandilla’s chief advisers, and one whom he managed to cage with himself, by sending for him amicably, giving secret orders, however, to compel him to come in case he hesitated. As the cunning Gaika has always professed to act “by the advice of his councillors,” he anticipated that the greater punishment would devolve upon them, and by this means he trusted that his own would be lightened.
The replies of Sandilla to various remarks and questions lately put to him are shrewd enough. On his being told, by one of the authorities, that if he attempted to escape from his confinement he would be shot, Sandilla answered that “as he had voluntarily surrendered himself, it was not likely he should run away.” Soon after his imprisonment, he requested a daily allowance of wine. On being asked if he had ever been in the habit of drinking it, he said “No.” Then why indulge in what he had never been accustomed to? “I am now the white man’s child,” replied Sandilla; “my father is wise, and I would do all things as he does.” When his warriors left his “Great Place,” to join the gathering in the Amatolas, he found one lingering long behind the rest. “What are you doing here?” asked the Chief; “you are like a solitary locust when the swarm has gone; so, the sooner you hop after it the better.”
“December 17th.—The frontier to-night is delirious with joy. The town is illuminated, and beacon lights telegraph from the hill-tops that Sir Harry Smith has arrived.”
Note 1. As was proved before Sir Harry, then Colonel, Smith, and published in a document signed by him, and by Captain Lacy, 72nd Highlanders, Arthur Balfour, Aide-de-Camp, and Mr Shepstone, Kaffir Interpreter. This document, dated King William’s Town, February, 1836, bears the marks also of Macomo and Ganga.
I have lately ridden within the space of a fortnight—and resting half that fortnight—two hundred and fifty miles, through the country lately infested, and still haunted, by the savage enemy. It presents a glorious contrast to last year; the hand of Providence has put aside the hand of man. The majestic Winterberg mountain, nearly nine thousand feet high, rose before us in our ride, green almost to its summit. The valleys beneath us, as we passed from one mountain-top to the other, were “smiling with corn;” the grass on the plains waved as in our English meadow-lands; the woodman’s axe rang in the forests, near the scene of many a bloody fray; and, although small groups of Kaffirs doubtless looked down upon us from many “a leafy nook,” we passed up the steep ascents in the midst of deep jungle and impervious thickets, unmolested. On the road to Fort Hare, a spot was pointed out to me, on which a Hottentot waggon-driver had breathed his last. He was shot by the enemy, who had carried off his oxen, scarcely a month before. A fortnight after I had travelled that way, with but slight escort,—Colonel Campbell, 91st, being the only one of our party who was armed,—a man, formerly of the Royal Artillery, was killed by an assegai, thrown by an unseen hand, from some huts formerly occupied by some of Macomo’s tribe.
In spite of terrible associations, my ride in the Winterberg Mountains was a peaceful one, and full of interest. The monkeys swung from bough to bough, the canaries sang their untiring melodies, the bell-bird chimed its solemn-sounding note, and there was little to break the calm of the scene save the advance of the Christian Chief, Kama, with a dozen dusky followers, all armed and mounted, on his way to Graham’s Town.
The Winterberg is a district taking its name from the mountains so called—berg meaning mountain, in Dutch. The tops of these mountains are often covered with snow. The close of the first day’s journey from Graham’s Town brought us to the Koonap River, which we found almost impassable for horses. The troopers of the dragoon orderlies were towed over in the wake of the boat, trembling, snorting, kicking, some turning heels uppermost, and others at last submitting to their fate, and falling exhausted on the bank on reaching it. The river roared and tumbled, and the passage across, in the old boat, with its uncertain rope, would have frightened fine ladies. But people must cease to be fine ladies in Africa. Some of our horses were left picqueted with a guard of soldiers, and I confess to some uneasiness during the night, as I lay listening to the noisy torrent below our little inn, half expecting to hear shots exchanged between the guard and the enemy. The inn itself was a “sign of the times.” The host, Mr Tomlinson, an old Life Guardsman, had made the place defensible, and stood his ground during the heat of the war. My bed-room window, hung with white curtains of primitive English dimity, was still bricked up half way, and travellers passing by rested their arms against the loop-holed walls, and told of cattle lost and Kaffirs killed, with an air of as little concern as they would have worn in relating the prices of a country fair.
I was not sorry to hear, the next morning, that our steeds had neither been stolen by the enemy nor swept down the river.
After a night’s rest at Fort Beaufort, we left it, on the 12th of November, for Fort Hare, a strange-looking garrison, consisting of innumerable formal houses of a single room each, reminding one of the account of some barracks in England, in which an officer can lie in his bed, stir the fire, open the window, and shut the door, without much alteration in his position.
The scenery around Fort Hare is very grand, and not at all in accordance with the prim little edifices of “wattle and daub” which form precise squares and most unpicturesque alleys of a pale gingerbread hue. In approaching Fort Hare, we were obliged to plunge our horses into the Tyumie stream, amidst a crowd of Kaffir girls, who were swimming, laughing, and shouting to each other, like a bevy of sable Naiads, from the bashes and the boughs overhanging the long-disputed waters.
On the 15th I started, under the care of the Rev. Mr Beaver, from Fort Beaufort, for my ride among the mountains. Colonel Campbell, of the 91st, accompanied us on the first day’s journey, beguiling the day with many graphic anecdotes of the war; and the rest, beside some clear spring, after passing up the steep ascents between the Blinkwater and Post Retief, was delightful. This Blinkwater post was ably defended, during the war, against a hundred and fifty of the enemy at least, by Serjeant Snodgrass, of the 91st Regiment, and six or eight soldiers. Serjeant Snodgrass was honourably mentioned in general orders, in consequence.
Another rest at Retief, and we advanced the next day. As drew near the noble Winterberg, it presented the appearance of a huge elephant with a howdah (of basaltic rock) on its back; a fringe of grey stone round it gave an idea of its trappings. Our destination was Glenthorn, the residence of Mr Pringle, one of that family of Yair, familiarly mentioned by Sir Walter Scott. My short stay, of barely two days, at Glenthorn, prevented me from seeing much that was interesting; but a Bushman’s cave tempted me, in spite of sun, dust, wind, and a “tempest coming up,” to scramble through a little forest of shrubs. In this haunt, for it could scarcely be called a cave, we discovered some of those curious paintings which present a singular memento of these creatures of an almost extinct race. I have seen various facsimiles of such drawings published, but the subjects they were intended to represent have been seldom sufficiently defined to illustrate their original meaning. The one we saw was perfect in its representation of an eland and buffalo hunt. One strange pigmy creature sat sideways on horseback, in full chase of the game; another stood at bay, as if to prevent the animals from leaving the path into which they had turned; and others were awaiting them with their poisoned bows and arrows. (Note 1.) These drawings were done in variously coloured ochres—brown, red, yellow, and some black. This lovely spot was more like the dwelling-place of fairies than of the hideous aborigines of South Africa. A stream rippled under the trees, and the green turf was spangled with flowers of many colours. The monkeys had doubtless deserted it at our approach, but their ropes (a peculiar kind of creeper, hanging like swings from the yellow-wood trees) attested their constant presence there. We tried to imagine the Bushmen resting here after their day’s hunt, and recording its events on the scarp of rock facing us, at the head of the wooded eminence, now almost roofed in with tall trees and parasitical plants. Here they prepared the poisons, for madness, disease, or death, as suited their wild purposes, from the wild bulbs which grew in such bright profusion—deceitful things! Now, the birds were singing above us in the sunshine. The Bushman’s foresight with regard to provision, in this uncertain country, might afford a lesson to the white man. If they cannot consume at a meal the little lizards, locusts, etc, on which they prey, they impale them, leaving them on the thorny bushes, to return to when in need. (This is the system of the butcher-bird.)
The Bushmen who have lately been exhibited in London, were described as belonging to a race of people, “caught on the banks of the Great Fish River,” which is altogether a mistake, as the few Bushmen left in Africa have now gone far to the northward. The Boers beyond the Orange River know their haunts, and often supply them with game, to prevent them from stealing and destroying their sheep, for, what they cannot eat on the spot, they will kill and mutilate, in the spirit of sheer mischief. These unfortunate little beings live literally among the clefts of rocks, subsisting on locusts, roots, and anything else they can find in the eating way.
A Dutch farmer, who for some time had regularly furnished a small colony of Bushmen with game, became surprised at the non-appearance of the periodical envoys for it, and therefore went up to their “dwelling-places among the conies.” A wretched scene presented itself: the measles had broken out in the community, and the dead, the dying, the sick, the old and the young, men, women, and children, were all heaped together within the caves and nooks of the steep krantzes. He dragged them from their covert, but they would listen to no suggestions calculated, if acted on, to remedy or lighten the disease, and all he could do was to rescue some of the children from the pest-house in the wilderness.
Unlike these Bushmen, and some other savages, the Kaffirs are most cautious in endeavouring to avoid all infections maladies; and, when the smallpox swept off the aborigines in numbers, the different tribes of the Kafirs established cordons sanitaires, and framed and abided by the most stringent laws of quarantine.
I could write many pages on the subject of Mr Pringle’s charming and admirably-planned location. I shall long think of the Bushman’s haunt, the little chapel in the fertile valley, and, above all, the kindly welcome I met with at Glenthorn, but such agreeable reminiscences must be reserved for another time; these pages are dedicated to a history of war and turmoil, and I must not pause to dwell on pleasant memories connected with my journey through those mountain-ranges.
None of Mr Pringle’s family deserted the mansion during the war. It was made defensible, and afforded a refuge for many who dared not remain on their isolated farms. It was quite a little garrison in itself, and was never even attacked by the Kaffirs.
On our way to the Mancazana, we rested again at Mr Macmaster’s farm—a place with a pretty, peaceful-looking garden, backed by such cliffs! and interesting from its being associated with the poet Pringle, and his works, many of them having been written on this romantic spot. In the Maacazana valley we passed by the ruins of several farms, and at the post we heard an indistinct rumour of the deaths of five officers (Note 2); that such a number had been killed was clear, but to what regiment they belonged I could not ascertain. In no happy frame of mind I reached Mr Gilbert’s farm, within seven miles of Fort Beaufort; here again were the evidences of war—bullet-marks on the walls, palisades torn up, and gates well battened. A charger, formerly belonging to Captain Bertie Gordon, of the 91st, stood peaceably eating his forage in the yard, but his once sleek skin was rough, and his frame looked worn. Poor “Prussian!” his owners regretted his changed appearance, and so did I.
On our return to Beaufort, we learned further particulars of this frightful affair in the field, which were eventually fully confirmed. The sorrowing comrades of these poor officers have raised a monument to their memory, on the site of the General’s camp on the Conga (see Appendix I).
The following particulars, extracted from the “Cape Frontier Times,” correspond so entirely with the information I received from Sir George Berkeley himself, from Colonel Somerset, and other private sources, that I subjoin them in preference to writing my own impressions on the subject.
A most magnificent view of the adjacent country, from a peninsula stretching out upon the Kei, had tempted some of the officers of the General’s camp to form a plan for visiting it. The day before they started on this expedition, Captain Baker, of the 73rd, dined with Sir George Berkeley, who told me that had he known the intention of these ill-fated men to visit a locality so far from the camp, so thickly wooded and precipitous, he would not have permitted their departure. Captain Faunee, and Lieutenant Nash, 73rd, were to have accompanied the party, but happily their duties prevented them from doing so, Lieutenant Littlehales started with them, but, rain coming on, and having a severe cold, which he was unwilling to increase in the field, he turned back. In the evening of Saturday, the 13th of November, “he became alarmed at the absence of his brother officers; and, half-an-hour afterwards, Captains Somerset, Berkeley Seymour, (the General’s Staff) and Captain Bisset, C.M.R., started in search of them, and descended into the bed of the river. It was dark, and they returned at two o’clock on Sunday morning, their search having been unsuccessful. Two hours afterwards, the same officers, with a company of the 73rd, took up the spoor of the missing officers again, and succeeded in finding the unfortunate men in a deep chasm near the river. They were all lying near each other. It is conjectured that they had all been to the top of the mountain, from which elevation they had been seen by the Kaffirs, who had posted a large body to intercept them on their return.” Since the event, this has been ascertained to have been the case. “At this time, a large quantity of cattle was perceived going down to the Kei, with a number of the enemy; a dispatch was immediately sent back to the camp, and the party was reinforced by detachments from the head-quarter division, and Colonel Somerset’s.” The latter headed the people from his own camp. After a night march of great fatigue, the troops were all anxiety for the attack: the 73rd were furious, and the sight of the dead bodies, stripped of everything, and with every proof about them of having fought desperately against the savages, enraged their brother soldiers more and more at every step they took.
The force selected for the engagement, consisted of a hundred and thirty of the Cape Mounted Riflemen, three hundred of a native levy, thirty or the 7th Dragoon Guards, and two hundred of the 73rd Regiment; there were also about eighty farmers: the native infantry were under the command of Captain Owen. When the dispositions for attack had been made, “the troops were formed into small divisions, and a point of attack assigned to each. During these operations, the General and Staff climbed the Table Mountain, to the top, and Colonel Somerset endeavoured to cross a ford on the river; but, being baffled in his design, joined the General. A number of cattle being descried in the bend of the Kei, Colonel Somerset, with his people, wound down a pass to reach them.” The Kaffirs stood their ground here unusually well, but the 73rd dashed at them in gallant style, and soon dislodged them, while the Provisionals, Captain Hogg’s levy, and the Cape Corps, pushed onwards for the cattle. Colonel Somerset was busy exchanging shots with the enemy at one of their drifts, Lieutenant Macdonald, C.M.R., having been the first, with his detachment, to commence the attack at the river.
Before the engagement the troops had marched thirty miles. No great loss was sustained on the British side, and a great many Kaffir guns were taken. “Colonel Somerset,” remarked the “Graham’s Town Journal,” “made an admirable disposition of the force under his command, and directed the whole movement with great skill. The General overlooked the whole affair, and is said to have expressed his satisfaction at the spirited and gallant manner in which the troops, and all who were engaged, behaved. The gallantry and activity of Colonel Somerset throughout the affair were conspicuous: directing, under the General, the whole of the operations below the mountain, he displayed the most perfect acquaintance with the habits of the enemy and the character of the country; he was to be seen at every point where danger presented itself, or direction was needed, and ably and zealously was he supported by every officer and engaged in one of the severest field-days ever experienced since the commencement of the present contest.”
At least thirty Kaffirs were counted dead after this action; some of them wearing the clothes of the deceased officers. Mr Faunt’s horse was captured in the fray, and poor Captain Baker’s charger galloped into the camp, still saddled, and bleeding from an assegai wound in its head.
Soon after this affair, Colonel Somerset succeeded in crossing the Kei, with the Cape Corps, and Captain Hogg’s levy, all in light marching order, with supplies for five days. As soon as this force was on the other side of the river, Páto came back. Captain O’Reilly was then detached, with some of the Cape Corps, to look for him, when he again doubled, and escaped with a quantity of Colonial cattle; only four hundred being captured in the course of these operations.
Umhala was suspected of sheltering Páto’s people and the cattle; and afterwards, when disturbed on his location by the operations of the troops, he had the insolence to remonstrate on the inconvenience he was put to by being thus suspected. Such fallacious reasoning did not influence Colonel Somerset’s plans. The craftiness of these Kaffirs is the most difficult thing possible to contend with. What, for instance, could be more cunning than Kreli’s reply, when accused of sheltering Páto? “Colonel Somerset’s commands,” he said, “had forced Páto over the Kei into his (the Amaponda) country, and so precipitately that the stolen Colonial cattle had got mixed up with Kreli’s in the pasture-ground. Now,” said Kreli, “this could not have been so, had Páto come hither with my permission, as, in that case, I should have separated my cattle from his.” He also begged to know on what authority the British Government had decided that he had sheltered Páto. He was told, in reply, that the information had been received from certain Kaffir prisoners, whose names, however, were unknown; whereupon his councillors answered, “You, Colonel Johnstone (27th), and the Governor, and Somerset, and Stockenstrom, and Kreli, are great men, and are you going to settle an important national question, upon the report of prisoners of whom you know nothing?” Certainly a Kaffir would puzzle Lord Brougham himself, by his plan of meeting cross questions with crooked answers.
Note 1. The poison used by the Bushmen is extracted from the serpent’s bag, from the root of the agapanthus, lily, and other plants.
Note 2. Captain Baker, Lieutenant Faunt, Ensign Burnop, and Surgeon Campbell, all of the 73rd, and Assistant-Surgeon Loch, 7th Dragoon Guards.