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Umhala asked several times, in a tone of quiet impertinence, “by what right Colonel Hare had summoned him at all? What proof was there of his hostility towards Gasella?” and thus Umhala sneered, and Mr Shepstone remonstrated, and little shabby Gasella scolded, and then the council was dissolved, it being decided that Gasella, having already paid a heavier fine of cattle than he ought to have done, should pay no more, although Umhala had demanded fifty head above what Gasella had given, as compensation for the Imrad’s pretended injury.
As we returned from the scene of the council, which had taken place on an elevation crowned with mimosa-bushes, the phalanx rose, and one fired a musket in the air, a genuine feu de joie, no doubt, at our peaceful departure.
Gasella returned to Fort Peddie with us, and, in the afternoon, the troops marched back to Graham’s Town. Though Gasella gained his point in not paying the cattle demanded by Umhala, it would eventually be taken openly, or stolen from him. In short, the meeting between these two adverse chiefs reminded me of two quarrelsome boys being summoned before the master, reprimanded, and sent away, both being more bitter enemies than before, and the stronger one resolved to have his revenge on the weaker as soon as he gets him into a quiet corner.
I was rather amused at the “introduction” of the chief Gasella to me, on the evening before the council was to meet. I was sitting over the fire, chatting with an officer, when, Páto and an inferior Kaffir came in, followed by a dirty, miserable little man, in a threadbare surtout, broken hat, etc. On my asking Páto some question relative to the quarrel with the chiefs, which had sent the troops a three days’ march in miserable weather, he pointed to the wretched little object who had advanced to my elbow, and said, “There—Gasella.” I stared, and, feeling some sympathy for the creature, gave him a chair. Both asked for wine and tobacco; I gave them some cigars. At this moment Kama arrived, and, seeing they intended lighting their cigars at my sitting-room fire, he pointed out the impropriety of it, and they departed. Gasella is less civilised even than Páto, and very unlike a Kaffir in appearance.
We could not but observe Kama’s cautious bearing, as we questioned him concerning Umhala. It was evident, however, that he had been entrusted with no political secrets. Every trait in Kama was interesting; his gentleness, consistence, patience, and hazardous position between his richer brothers, Páto and Congo, made him, indeed, an object of our care and protection. Nevertheless, poor Kama gave us very little trouble, asked for no presents, being resolved on quieter establishing a position for himself on the other side of the Orange River, or the Keiskama.
May 4th. Every day brings accounts of cattle-stealing about Beaufort, in the more immediate neighbourhood of Graham’s Town, and the outposts nearest to it. The news that has arrived from England concerning Natal, is promising, though some inquire what compensation is made for the loss of such promising officers as Lieutenants Wyatt and Prior, who were just as much killed in action as any of those “brave and lamented soldiers who fell in the late disastrous affair of Afghanistan?” How such leniency will operate, remains to be proved. Already the Boers about Colesberg are beginning to creep off to the other side of the Orange River, ostensibly to attack Panda, the Zoola chief, but in reality to assist the insurgent Boers at Natal.
May 26.—Chief Kama, the only Christian Kaffir chief—I believe the only Christian Kaffir—is passing through Peddie, with his family, baggage, followers, and fifteen hundred head of cattle. His life is not safe in the neighbourhood of his brothers, Páto and Cobus Congo. He is bound for the Bechuana country, on the other side the Orange River; but, until spring commences, he will make a halt near Beaufort, and act under the protection of our nominal and drunken ally, Macomo, uncle of Sandilla, and a chief of the Gaika tribe.
The post of to-day brings, as usual, accounts of continued depredations, and the Fingoes of this neighbourhood, the people we are protecting, have been made to render up more than three hundred head of cattle which they had appropriated to themselves, from the kraals of various people.
Chapter IV.
A “Commando.”
The even tenour of our life at Fort Peddie has just been diversified by a “foray” into the lands of a redoubtable cattle-stealer of the I’Slambie tribe, named Tola, against whom repeated complaints had been made by the settlers in various parts of the district of Lower Albany, of depredations committed on their farms, and among their cattle. The Lieutenant-Governor resolved on sending a body of troops against him, in order to rescue the stolen cattle, and break up that chief’s government and tribe. Before, however, the troops had assembled at the rallying-point, Fort Willshire12, Tola had sent the plunder away either into the interior of Kaffirland, with his wives, children, and people, or into secluded kloofs, under the care of herds belonging to the tribes of some of those very chiefs who acted as allies and guides to the British troops on the occasion. There stood the offender’s kraal consisting of scattered and empty huts, and there was the “grand army,” (upwards of five hundred strong) in array against “Tola’s country;” while Tola himself was taking an occasional peep at the proceedings from his lurking-places in the bush, smiling, no doubt, at so many of Her Majesty’s soldiers being sent out to hunt him,—he—a Kaffir Chief—on his own wild ground, in many places inaccessible to European infantry, or Hottentot cavalry!
At first setting out on the “Commando,” as the campaigns are called, the affair promised to be pleasant enough; the weather was delightful, though the month of June is our first winter month here. One company of the 91st had obeyed orders to the letter of the law, and had taken the field in “light marching order:” but the rest had a certain number of waggons and tents, and it was amusing to see the comforts with which some had surrounded themselves—canteens, easy chairs, bedsteads, tables, mats, cooking utensils, etc. These resolved on making the best of the matter, turning what at first appeared a warlike expedition into a pic-nic party; though others were content to lie in the bush, and fare no better than the men they commanded.
Never, however, had been seen such times of marching, counter-marching, bivouacking, and eating and drinking, since the days when the City Train Bands and the Westminster Volunteers were called into active service on Wimbledon, Kennington, and Clapham Commons, where they encamped to little purpose, except to eat sandwiches, and drink the King’s health in “London particular.” About a fortnight after the troops had assembled at Willshire, a division of them, consisting of upwards of two hundred of the 91st, and the same number of the Cape Corps, were ordered to Fort Peddie, to halt and refresh themselves; but the springs, owing to the want of rain, were nearly dry (and a sentry is always placed on the principal tank at Peddie13); so the 91st remained in the neighbourhood of the kraal belonging to Eno, a dependent chief of the Gaika tribe, and the Cape Corps came on. There was brack (salt) water enough for the horses.
Sunday was spent peacefully at Peddie, and on Monday morning, June 6th, 1843, as the two corps were to meet six or seven miles from the post, I was induced to ride out, with another lady and a party, to the rendezvous. Although I by no means think the head of a brigade in array for the field an eligible place for ladies in general, my friend and I did not regret having yielded to the various solicitations, that we should proceed a little further with the expedition, which had no chance of becoming in reality a warlike one.
The morning resembled the one I have described in my account of Umhala’s affair. Certainly a South African morning is incomparably beautiful. The want of rain had taken from the turf much of its freshness; still, the mimosa is always green, and the perfume of its bright yellow blossoms most delicious. We kept to the grass, smooth as velvet, and gently undulating here and there, with wooded kloofs to the right and left of us; while the Cape Corps, in dusky array, filled the high-road. Nothing can be more efficient than the appearance of the Hottentot soldier, though I confess to laughing heartily at one or two immediately in advance of us.
There he is, in his bush-coloured jacket, clay-coloured leather trousers, seated on his sturdy little steed, as though nothing had ever parted, or could ever part, the horse and his rider. Before him, on his light dragoon saddle, is rolled his cloak; behind him, his blanket, corn-sack, and nose-bag; a slight change of shoes, trousers, etc, is carried, in the haversack in light marching order, and in a valise on other occasions. His double-barrelled percussion carbine, wrapped in sheepskin, rests its muzzle in a holster adapted for the purpose; and across his shoulder is slung his belt, a pouch containing twenty rounds of ammunition, and, occasionally, a canteen. When it is remembered that the average height of a Hottentot soldier is five feet one, and that he is slight in proportion, it may be imagined what a figure he cuts when accoutred for the field; but he is the most efficient soldier for this colony for all that. He is keen-witted and intelligent, patient of hunger, thirst, and fatigue, active as a monkey, and possessed of a perfect knowledge of the country, and occasionally of the Kaffir language. Add to this, the officers of this corps have either been long residents in the colony, or are the sons of people who have known no other home for many years. Fit commanders, then, are they for such troops.
Over the turf we cantered, the delicious air imparting spirits to ourselves and to our steeds, and, as we advanced, we left the green-jackets winding along the road behind us, while down between two green hills came the 91st, the shrill bagpipes sounding strangely indeed among these far plains and echoing valleys of Africa. Here we all halted for a few minutes, till I was persuaded to go on to the banks of the Keiskama, where one party was to encamp for some time, and the other to bivouac and dine, previously to crossing the river into Kaffirland. Our little private party then proceeded, with those who were to take up the ground for the encampment. A beautiful spot was selected; nothing could be more picturesque. On a mound, commanding an extensive view of the country, the 91st were to establish themselves. Up the hill followed the division of the red-jackets, a long line of waggons, camp sutlers, Fingoes, Commissariat people, servants, led horses, etc, bringing up the rear. In a few moments, the white tents dotted the ground; fires were lit, and, in an incredibly short time, there was savoury evidence of carbonatje. My head ached with the fatigue of the ride, and, perhaps, the excitement of the scene; but that was nothing. A table was spread for me near a kindly bush, and a breakfast that would have satisfied an epicure craved attention. I rejoiced over some deliciously-made coffee, and then took a survey of the scene beneath. On a beautiful and level plain the Cape Corps had bivouacked: some lounged and slept in the centre of the square which had been formed by piling each man’s saddle, blanket, etc; others snatched their hastily-cooked meal near a cluster of bushes. The laugh of the merry-makers ascended gaily up the hill, and the brazen call of the trumpet, or bugle, was given back by the echoes from the tall grey rocks bounding the opposite side of the Keiskama, whose quiet waters glided peacefully on under the shadow of overhanging boughs on one side, and on the other stately cliffs variegated with mimosas and euphorbias. On its green banks reclined a crowd of Fingo warriors, in their war attire of plumes, assegais, shields of bullock-hide, and their karosses draped gracefully round them. The chiefs wore tiger-skins. Indolent they looked, basking in the sunshine, smoking dagha, the seed of a kind of wild hemp, having much the same effect as opium on the senses. In the field these people are useful assistants, and most formidable opponents to their former severe taskmasters, the Kaffirs. Their rain-makers and doctors cut a conspicuous and grotesque figure, with their strange fantastic head-dresses of jackal’s and monkey’s tails. The mischief these wretches do I have already described.
Presently, the quiet of the scene was disturbed; the trumpet of the Cape Corps gave forth its brazen signal to upsaddle; men and horses were soon in their ranks; few waggons were were in the train of this corps, so accustomed to the field, and so fitted to its duties; and, ere half an hour had elapsed, the ground, which had presented so animated an appearance, was unoccupied. The sound of the Keiskama’s gently flowing waters remained undisturbed, the Fingo phalanx had moved onwards, and the little mound on which the 91st were encamped, formed a lively contrast to the profound repose of the valley below. As the afternoon advanced, we too thought of upsaddling and away.
Writers are often accused of “inventing a moonlight” on occasion; but I protest that in many of our rambling expeditions here, the moon has especially favoured us. Indeed, we seldom ventured to make excursions in this country of early sunsets and no twilight, without the prospect of a moon for our homeward ride at night. We left the camp at three o’clock; and, as we proceeded from the spot, we looked back. We could now see both parties; the white tents and scarlet jackets of the 91st, and the long array of the Cape Corps, which, having crossed the Keiskama, was now wending its way into Kaffirland. The evening air was growing chilly, and we were fain to advance instead of glancing back. When we reached the missionary station, within four miles of Peddie, we found that the hospitable family there had been watching our approach, for their table was spread with goodly refreshment, and never was poor creature more grateful for anything than was I for Mrs Tainton’s fragrant cup of tea, so kindly and readily bestowed.
It must be observed that the troops crossed the Keiskama entirely with the nominal concurrence of the chiefs, with the exception of Sandilla, as they affected to be much annoyed at Tola’s continued contempt of the treaties, and his repeated inroads on the property of the colonists. It has since been proved, as might have been expected, that, while the chiefs were accompanying the troops into the field, they were constantly misguiding them, and giving them wrong information relative to the cattle.
The troops were soon afterwards dispersed; some went back to Graham’s Town, some to lonely outposts, and some to Beaufort; all very tired of the business, and some seriously ill, from sleeping in the bush at the end of the “campaign,” when the rain fell in torrents, and the ground was saturated. Great part of the cattle was rescued by the Fingoes, who came into Peddie in phalanx, singing their song of triumph, a low, deep, solemn chant, each voice modulated to the others, in perfect unison. Their appearance was indeed warlike. It is worthy of remark, that while the colony remained in this unsettled state, the Kaffir and Fingo women went about armed with assegais.
The crossing of the Keiskama gave great offence to Sandilla, the son of Gaika, and head of the tribe. Yet, what could be done? Not only had the greater number of the chiefs agreed to it, but some of the cattle had been traced, and it was necessary to rescue it: but this was more proposed than done, and the most provoking feature in the case was, that while we permitted the Kaffirs to occupy the ground they held on sufferance, they took advantage of the indulgence to plunder the settlers.
From this time till war was proclaimed in 1846, the colonists were engaged in perpetual warfare with the tribes. The farmers could not stir without arms; murder stalked through the highway in open day, robberies were too common to be always recorded, and Commandos were marched through the country to punish recreant chiefs; but the latter invariably eluded the troops and escaped with the cattle.
The Dutch, who had long been discontented, declared their intention of breaking beyond the boundary; but the English settlers were anxious to “hope against hope,” and, on the arrival of Sir Peregrine Maitland in 1844, who came with authority to improve the system of public finance, their drooping spirits revived, and in the spirit of unshaken loyalty they placed the most favourable construction on every step proposed to avert those calamities which subsequently overwhelmed them.
Chapter V.
Beginning of the Kaffir War
During this period I have little of personal adventure to record. After a sojourn of a few months at Fort Peddie, we were removed to Graham’s Town, and I was residing there when the war broke out.
In the month of February, 1846, the Gaika Chief, Sandilla, having before agreed to the proposal of the British authorities in South Africa, that a military post should be established at Block Drift, near his own kraal, or residence, and on the confines of the ceded territory, chose to withdraw his consent, and treat the troops sent thither with great insolence. His excuse was, that he had given his consent to the Resident Agent, without consulting his councillors who were of a different opinion.
On receiving this haughty message, the Lieutenant-Governor, Colonel Hare, summoned Sandilla to a conference at Block Drift; the young chief of the Gaikas appeared before the Lieutenant-Governor and his small array of British troops, surrounded by two thousand warriors, armed with muskets, and capitally mounted. The arms had been purchased from British traders,—there being then no law to check the indiscriminate sale of arms and ammunition to the Kaffirs,—and the greater proportion of the horses had been plundered from the unfortunate farmers in the colony. Nothing was decided at this conference, and the project of establishing a post at Block Drift was for the time, if not altogether, abandoned. The troops returned to Fort Beaufort, Sandilla to his kraal, and, some days after, an abject and pathetic message was received by Colonel Hare from the Gaika chief, with the assent of several other chiefs subservient to him. The message was exceedingly well “got up,” but meant nothing.
In March, a Kaffir being convicted of some misdemeanour at Fort Beaufort, was placed, with others, under the charge of a Hottentot guard, and ordered into Graham’s Town, to be confined in the gaol until the period of the circuit. Among these prisoners was also an English dragoon. A party of Kaffirs secreted themselves near the road leading from Fort Beaufort to Graham’s Town, and, on the approach of the guard and prisoners, darted out of the bush, shot the Hottentot to whom the Kaffir was handcuffed, severed the dead man’s hand from his body, and led off the rescued savage; followed, however, by the guard, who were obliged to retreat at last, narrowly escaping with their lives. A few weeks previously to this event, a German missionary, named Schulz, had been murdered in cold blood in the open day on the public road, not many miles from Fort Peddie, by some of Páto’s people. The murderers of Mr Schulz were demanded by the authorities, and Páto promised to deliver them up, but did not keep his word. He never intended to do so!
On the murder of the Hottentot, and rescue of the Kaffir prisoner in March, Colonel Hare resolved to “chastise” the Kaffirs, and issued a proclamation to that effect. The proclamation caused an immense stir, and on the 15th of April the troops, began their march through the ceded territory, seeing at first nothing but empty kraals.
Nothing was heard in Graham’s Town of the progress of the troops for many days. The 20th of April brought the unexpected intelligence that the Kaffirs had made a most determined stand in the Amatolas. Several valuable lives had been lost on our side, and fifty-two waggons containing the whole of the baggage of the 7th Dragoon Guards, and part of that of the 91st, had fallen into the hands of the enemy, being burnt and plundered by them; the Kaffirs quietly arraying themselves in the clothing and accoutrements of the soldiers.
Our troops had been engaged for three days fighting desperately with thousands of these savages, and were compelled to retire upon Block Drift, where they kept their ground, and finally established, by force of arms, the disputed right to build a post there.
On the 15th of April, Colonel Somerset assembled his force on the Deba Flats. This force consisted of part of the 7th Dragoon Guards, under Lieut.-Col. Richardson (the effective strength of the 7th was now but 240); the Cape Mounted Riflemen, commanded by Colonel Somerset; three companies of the reserve battalion 91st, under Major Campbell; the Grenadier company, 1st battalion, under Captain Ward; and about 150 Kat River Burghers. Here Colonel Somerset made his dispositions; and at 7 o’clock on the following morning, the division under Major Campbell, with the Kat River Burghers, marched into the Amatola Valley; Major Armstrong, with some Cape Mounted Riflemen, and Captain Sutton, with some mounted Burghers, were detached over the hill; and, it not being passable with artillery, Colonel Richardson was requested to co-operate with his guns, the 7th Dragoon Guards, and a detachment of the Cape Mounted Riflemen, under Captain Donovan. Colonel Somerset proceeded with his party round the Amatola Mountains, in order to unite with and support the troops under Major Armstrong and Captain Sutton.
Major Campbell, having advanced some way into the valley, soon found himself opposed to an immense body of Kaffirs, who opened a heavy fire upon the troops. The ascent of the infantry up a hill clothed with thick bush, was accomplished under desperate circumstances—thousands of Kaffirs, secure in ambush, or assembled on the mountains around them, shouting their war-cry of “Izapa! Izapa!”—“Come on! Come on!” On reaching a kloof, a few Kaffirs made their appearance; but, “it being suggested to Major Campbell that these were merely put there to divert attention from the scrub (bush intermingled with stones) on the left, he desired his men to keep a sharp lookout in that direction.” It was well he did so; the Kaffirs “opened a tremendous fire from that point, from the kloof on the right, and in the rear.” “I never before,” says the writer of an account from the scene of action, “experienced such dreadful fatigue; what with the steepness of the mountain, and having to ascend it amid a shower of balls, I was compelled to lie down twice, screened by the thorn-trees, before I reached the top. Two men fainted by the way, four of the 91st were killed, and two wounded. From the number of shots fired, I am surprised half of us were not killed.”
By the time the division had reached the summit of the mountain, they were all fairly exhausted. It was a joyful sight for them when they found their position was discovered, and they saw the Cape Corps coming to their assistance, with a gun, from the other side. The red-jackets cheered the reinforcement from the hill-top, and then rested on their arms, while the Cape Corps went to work, and soon silenced the enemy there.
In getting round the mountain, Colonel Somerset, after crossing a difficult drift with a gun, discovered a large drove of cattle on the left. Captain Sutton, with his Burghers, Captain Pipon, with a troop of the 7th, and Captain Donovan, with some Cape Mounted Rifles, were despatched to capture them, and succeeded in taking eighteen hundred head. At sunset, the troops encamped for the night on the flat under the Amatola.
The first day’s action at Burn’s Hill was disastrously marked by the death of Captain Bambrick, 7th Dragoon Guards, a fine old Waterloo soldier, who had also served for many years in India, in the 11th Hussars. He unhappily went too far into a dense bush, and was shot. One or two circumstances connected with his death are worthy of notice.
Captain Bambrick’s troop formed part of a division under Major Gibsone, 7th Dragoon Guards, who had been left in charge of the baggage. During the day, some Kaffirs came down upon the herds and oxen belonging to the waggons, and in fighting for the cattle, mortally wounded a young boy, named McCormick. His brother ran to his assistance; and the dying child, seeing the other herds retreating, raised himself, and shouting, in his death-agony, “Don’t run! don’t run! We’ll beat them yet!” sank back exhausted, and spoke no more. Captain Bambrick was sent in pursuit of the Kaffirs who had killed this poor young settler; and the old dragoon officer, reckless of the foe, seen or unseen, and accustomed to charge wherever that foe might be, dashed into the bush at the head of his troop, went too far, and fell in consequence by the hand of a concealed savage. Shocking to relate, his body was cut in pieces by the enemy, and either burned or hung about the bush. Oh “pastoral and peaceful” people! as Missionary Society Agents have styled them. Ere Captain Bambrick fell, he called to his men to retire, having found out, too late, that “that was no place for cavalry.”
He must have received many wounds. His charger galloped past the troop without its rider; its trappings and saddle were covered with blood; while the savages bore off the mangled body of their victim, brandishing his sword on the top of the hill as they retreated. Captain Bambrick was forty-seven years of age, and had served his country more than thirty years.
As I have observed, Captain Bambrick’s troop formed part of a division, under Major Gibsone, left in charge of baggage and ammunition, while Colonel Somerset proceeded with the main body towards the wooded kloofs and steep ascents of the Amatola Mountains. Before proceeding in search of the plundered cattle to a hill overlooking “Sandilla’s drift,” Captain Bambrick received distinct orders from Major Gibsone “by no means to proceed to any distance.” The old soldier could not, or would not, understand a warfare which demanded such caution, dashed onwards, full of chivalry, utterly wasted on such a foe, and fell, as might be expected. It may be added, that, had he not fallen when he did, the whole troop would have become the victims of his noble but ill-timed daring.
Major Gibsone’s dispatch states further—“About seven o’clock, just as I had diminished the size of my camp, we were attacked by a considerable body of Kaffirs, whom we beat off in six or seven minutes, I am sorry to say, with the loss, of four men of the 91st killed, and four wounded.” On the 17th, Major Gibsone, in compliance with Colonel Somerset’s instructions, moved from Burn’s Hill, at half-past ten a.m. From the number of waggons (one hundred and twenty-five), and the necessity of giving a support to the guns, Major Gibsone was only enabled to form a front and rear baggage-guard, and could not detach any men along the line of waggons. After proceeding about a mile, shots issued from a kloof by the side of the road; Lieutenant Stokes, R.E., ran the gun up to a point some three hundred yards in advance, and raked the kloof with a shell. When half the waggons had passed, the Kaffirs made a dash upon one of them, firing at the drivers and some officers’ servants, who were obliged to fly; then took out the oxen, and wheeled the waggon across the river. An overpowering force then rushed down from the hills in all directions, keeping up an incessant fire, which was returned by the 7th Dragoon Guards and the 91st, with great spirit. The gun was also served with much skill; but, owing to the Kaffirs’ immense superiority in numbers, Major Gibsone, to prevent his men from being cut off, was obliged to return to Burn’s Hill, where he again put the troops in position. A short time after this, a company of the 91st, under Captain Scott, advanced in skirmishing order, keeping up a heavy fire; but the waggons completely blocking up the road, the troops were obliged to make a détour, and, after considerable difficulty, succeeded in getting the ammunition-waggons into a proper line, but found it quite impracticable to save the baggage-waggons, the Kaffirs having driven away the oxen. One of the ammunition-waggons broke down, but the ammunition was removed to another; the troops then fought their way, inch by inch, to the Tyumie Camp, where they were met by Colonel Somerset’s division, and where they again encamped for the night.
Colonel Somerset, in his dispatch, dated “Block Drift, 18th of April,” describes the Kaffirs as “assembling in a very large force on the heights above the troops, on the 17th, and, on arriving at the Tyumie Drift, the enemy pressed upon them at every point. Lieutenant Hill, R.A., got the gun into position, and made excellent practice into the dense bush along the river, the enemy pressing on, and opening a severe fire on our advance. Lieutenant Armstrong, with some Cape Mounted Rifles, then scoured the bush in all directions; the flanking-parties of the 91st kept up a strong fire on the enemy; and Colonel Richardson supported the rear in the most able and gallant manner. Major Campbell held the drift, while ammunition-waggons passed; Captain Browne’s guns taking up an admirable position, and doing great execution under a heavy fire.”
Thus, scarcely fifteen hundred men, not all regular troops, encumbered with a hundred and twenty-five waggons, made their way into the fastnesses of these savages, who were many thousands in number; and although unable to follow up the enemy, of whom they killed at least three hundred, succeeded in saving all their ammunition, captured eighteen hundred head of cattle, and finally fought their way to the original ground of dispute.
