Part 2, Chapter XX.
Conclusion.
Enthusiastic as his English welcome had been on his return from India, his Excellency’s entrée into Graham’s Town, escorted by at least five hundred friends, independently of all military attendance, must have been deeply gratifying to him. How much more so must have been his sensations on the morning of the 23rd of December, 1647, when he galloped into the centre of the square formed by the garrison drawn up to receive him, “at the old place of meeting”—King William’s Town! The band of the Rifle Brigade received him with the National Anthem, and the cheers of the multitude formed a noble chorus; but, as the General rode down the line, the troops, presenting arms, the air changed to “See the Conquering Hero comes!” Shouts rose from the concourse, consisting of the military, the colonists, Kaffirs, Fingoes, and others of many different grades and denominations.
When these had subsided, Sir Harry Smith addressed the troops. His Excellency complimented Colonel Buller, of the Rifle Brigade, on the command of such a body of men, calling the attention of the latter to their advantage in having such a Commander; and having noticed “that bravery and endurance which they had displayed during the long and harassing warfare through which they had struggled,” he beckoned Colonel Somerset to his side, and thus addressed him:—
“To you, Colonel Somerset, we are mainly indebted for the satisfactory close of this severe contest. You have been in the field throughout, and have exhibited equal courage, patience, perseverance, and ability in the discharge of the severe duties which have devolved upon you. To an officer so nearly of my own rank, it is not for me to return my thanks. But I thank you in the name of Her Majesty the Queen, for your efficient services in this command; I thank you in the name of the eminently illustrious and immortal Duke of Wellington, the Commander-in-Chief of the British Army, for the manner in which you have prosecuted this war until you have brought it to a final issue.”
The scene at King William’s Town, at this period, was very imposing: the Kaffirs, in number at least two thousand, all unarmed, formed a semicircle of perhaps eight deep; in front of this semicircle stood the Chiefs, facing the General, Colonels Somerset, Buller, and Mackinnon, and Mr Shepstone, the Interpreter. In the rear of the latter were the troops, consisting of the Rifle Brigade, part of the 7th Dragoon Guards, and 73rd Regiment. His Excellency scanned the assembly before him with a searching look; and, as his eye rested on the line of Chiefs, he missed Sutu, and her son Sandilla, in a moment. Punctual himself, he was naturally angry at their absence, and demanded where they were?
Mother and son had retired from the great crowd to a little drift in a hollow. They were sent for, and obeyed the summons. The dense semicircular mass opened in the centre, and the lame Chief and Sutu entered the area. Some Kaffirs were disposed for a moment to press inward; but a low murmur went round, and those in front seated themselves the moment the young Gaika and his mother took their places at the head of the line of Chiefs. There was then a silence among the multitude, and the Governor addressed them, every word he uttered being carefully translated by Mr Shepstone.
Previously to his Excellency’s address, two large staves were brought forward, one was surmounted by a brass knob, the other was a Serjeant’s halbert. These Sir Harry Smith planted on each side of him as symbols of peace and war.
He opened his speech with bitter reproaches against the Kaffirs for their treachery and violence, upbraiding them for their faithlessness while he scorned them for their folly.
He told them the Queen of England had sent him to Africa to put a stop to their violence, and to organise the country over which they had so ruthlessly stalked as destroyers. Pointing to the staves, he called on them to advance, and to take their choice of peace or war. It mattered not to him, they might fight, but he would conquer them: he would be Chief. They had seen already how the troops of England could harass them; the grasp and vengeance of England could never be eluded. “You, Sutu,” said his Excellency, “I call upon you to come forward, and make your choice, by touching one staff or the other.”
Sutu advanced, and, placing her hand on the staff of peace, her example was followed by all the rest in succession. As Stock approached, his Excellency exclaimed, “Stock, son of Eno! is not your sleep disturbed by evil spirits, as a punishment for the contempt with which you treated your father’s last words?—And for you, Páto, Colonel Somerset has taken you out of the bush this time: you may thank him for your life; had I been there, you should have lost your head.” (Note 1.)
Páto’s appearance was miserable. He more resembled a Hottentot than a Kaffir, being of the Gona tribe, which is a mixture of both races. An old handkerchief was wound round his head, and his shrunken limbs were enveloped in a dirty blanket. Several times during Sir Harry Smith’s address, those peculiar murmurs of wonder, approbation, and assent, which I have elsewhere compared to the waves of a great ocean, rising and falling in the distance, went through the mighty circle. As the Governor took care to remind them occasionally that Chieftainship, in their sense of the term, was abolished, and declared, from that moment, he was the Great Inkosi Enkulu, and the representative of the Queen of England, an irrepressible groan burst forth from the Kaffirs; but none attempted to reply; all seemed paralysed by fear. Not even an assegai was to be seen in their hands—a most unusual circumstance among these savage tribes.
At the close of his stern address to the assembled Kaffirs, his Excellency read the Proclamation defining the conditions on which British Kaffraria is to be occupied for the future. Colonel Mackinnon was appointed to the command of the district. While reading this, he paused at several passages, giving the Chiefs an opportunity of ascertaining the exact meaning of what they heard; as he uttered the word “conquered,” in reference to the territory, his manner and tone were such as could not be misunderstood.
The Chiefs, declaring it was “good,” were ordered to advance separately, and to touch the staff of Peace or War, as pleased them best. There was no hesitation in deciding: the voice of Young Kaffirland had been silenced, and the Chiefs stepped forward one by one, kissing Sir Harry Smith’s foot as he sat on horseback, in token of their repentance for the past, and as a guarantee for future submission.
Not one of them approached the new Inkosi Enkulu, without eliciting some severe remarks. Threats were not spared, accompanied by significant gestures. “He would teach them,” he said, “who should henceforth be their masters; and, if they failed to obey his Word, he would sweep the disobedient from the land.” In short, he gave them to understand, in plain English, that they were a set of unworthy miscreants, who had forfeited all claim to indulgence; but who, upon a promise of future good behaviour, were to be mercifully tried once more, but not to be trusted. No! Sir Harry Smith knew them too well for that!
Words like these, from his lips, carried with them more weight than all the written documents the Colonial Office could send forth. As the Chiefs retired to their position, his Excellency, having possessed himself of a piece of paper for the purpose, held it up to the multitude as emblematic of the former Treaties; and, tearing it to pieces, scattered it to the winds, exclaiming with his accustomed energy, “There go the Treaties!” He next seized the staff of war, and, poising it for a few moments, cast it to the ground with great vehemence. “Behold,” said he, “the end of war! And now, three cheers for Peace!” Lifting his hat, he bade those beside him follow his example. The loud hurrahs ascended to the sky, sending their echoes along the banks of the Buffalo River. All united in the acclamations which the occasion called forth. From soldiers, spectators, and Kaffirs arose one simultaneous shout, and from kloof to kloof, from plain to plain, resounded the cheers which proclaimed “Peace on earth, and good will towards men!” two days before the great festival of Christmas.
On the evening of the 23rd, some of the chiefs being offered coffee in an officer’s tent, old Botman was heard making sundry remarks on the occurrences of the day. On being asked what he thought of the Governor’s address, he replied, “The day was stormy—the wind blew very strong.” But there was no gaining from him his real opinion as to past circumstances, or future arrangements.
It is the custom of the Kaffirs to assemble after any great gathering, whether of peace or war, a wedding or a witchcraft scene. Those who have not been present are always desirous of hearing “the news.” When Sir Harry Smith was in Kaffirland in 1836 he had occasion to summon the Chiefs to a meeting, when he reproached them severely for sundry aggressions. On their dismissal, they repaired to the Kraal, where several members of each tribe awaited their return with the eager question, “What news?” “There was a storm,” said one, “Much thunder!” “But,” asked another, “was it followed by refreshing rain?” “Oh! yes, when the thunder ceased there fell some cooling and pleasant showers;” alluding to food and gifts.
One secret of Sir Harry Smith’s success is, that he does not suffer the Kaffirs to parley with him. He looks upon them now as unworthy to be listened to, and they feel this; they make no attempt to reply. As for reasoning with them, it were but lost time; they are the cleverest logicians in the world, and have always an answer more suitable to their own purpose than we could possibly anticipate.
Umhala was once told he could not be permitted to marry a Christian Kaffir girl, as he had eleven wives already. After repeated messages and munificent offers of cattle, etc, on his part he pressed his suit by saying, “his wives knew not the white man’s God; he desired to have a Christian wife, that she might teach him!” He did not succeed, however, with the lady. “We know,” said a Kaffir to a missionary, “that what you tell us is for our good. We feel it must be so, because you bid us be kind to one another, and to be neither thieves nor liars. You bid our children be dutiful, our wives obedient, our neighbours peaceful; but when you tell us to abide with our old wives, and take no more young ones, then the teacher’s words are no longer good, and our ears are deaf to them.”
A Kaffir prisoner, having been six months in the Graham’s Town gaol, was tried at the assizes in April, 1847, and acquitted of the crime of which he had been accused. Before leaving the box, he was observed speaking to one of the officers of the court. “What is he saying?” asked the Judge. “He wishes to know,” replied the functionary, “why he has been so long in prison, and afterwards brought here, as he has committed no crime.”
The Keiskama River was proclaimed the immediate boundary of the Colony; and between this and the Kei lies what “shall be called and known as British Kaffiraria,” to be held by the Kaffirs “under such rules and regulations as Her Majesty’s High Commissioner, or other Representative, who shall be the Great Chief of the whole of the said territory, shall deem best calculated to promote the civilisation, conversion to Christianity, and general enlightenment of the benighted beings subject to her rule.”
In order “to define and fix a certain line of boundary, that no dispute or disaffection might hereafter arise among the people on a question of right or occupation,” the lands appropriated to the different chiefs of their tribes received English names. The “Great Place” of Sandilla is now called York; the country allotted to the Amabala people, under Stock, Lincolnshire. The location of the Amagunuquebes, under Palo, son of Gasella, is named Bedfordshire; and Umhala’s district, with the I’Slambies, Cambridgeshire; another portion of the I’Slambies, under Tois, are settled “within the limits of the county of Sussex.” Tois’s own place is to be called Goodwood. The Tambookies, under Umtikaka (Note 2.) and Mapassa, are to be located to the north of Yorkshire and Sussex; and the various villages which are to be established within the limits of British Kaffiraria have yet to be defined.
The substitution of English names for the ancient and poetic denominations by which the Kaffirs have hitherto distinguished their abodes, is a necessary measure; but who can reconcile himself, at this juncture, to London at the mouth of the Buffalo River, on the borders of Kaffirland; York some forty miles distant, lying among the Amatola Mountains; Cambridge near Fort Waterloo, (late Waterloo Bay,) and so forth?
The 7th of January brought together another assemblage, from all parts of the frontier, at King William’s Town. The absence of Lady Smith, who had been present on that spot in 1836, was regretted by all who remembered her. Old Sutu presented herself at Fort Cox, when en route for the Buffalo, and begged some intelligence of “her mother.” His Excellency’s movements had been too rapid and fatiguing to permit of a lady’s accompanying him, and Lady Smith remained at Cape Town during the absence of her gallant husband.
At half-past nine in the morning the Rifle Brigade were under arms, awaiting the arrival of His Excellency. The Kaffirs lingered about the camp, talking in groups, and finally dropping into the semicircle, in front of which, as before, the Chiefs and great men stood. There were about two thousand assembled by the time Sir Harry rode up, and Páto, having desired the tribes to greet the Governor as a great Chief, the usual cheers arose from the throng as, dressed in the uniform of the Rifle Brigade, and wearing the star of the Order of the Bath, the hero of Aliwal made his entrance, surrounded by his staff.
The opening of the Governor’s address was well suited to the occasion, and to the character of his auditors. “My children, God, you see, blesses this occasion: your gardens were dry, and burnt up, and He, last night, sent you a copious rain.”
A prayer was read, in the Kaffir language, by the Reverend Mr Dugmore, a missionary, and, at the conclusion of this, Sir Harry Smith continued his address to the multitude.
Nothing could be clearer than Sir Harry Smith’s explanation of affairs to the wretched people now at his feet. He pointed out the line of demarcation between the colony and “British Kaffraria,” and again between that and the Amapondas, reminding them that henceforth there would be no more treaties; the Kaffirs were British subjects, holding the lands forfeited by their late aggressions only on condition of good behaviour. That at the great meeting, eleven years ago, he had advised them to be industrious and honest. “I left you,” said he, “learning to be English. Look upon yourselves now, and then see the miserable wretches war has made you! Where are the large herds of cattle of which I left you in possession? Fools!” and Sir Harry advancing within a pace or two of the Kaffirs, struck the ground vehemently with the staff of peace... “The great Queen of England has sent me back to you to show you that she has not thrown you away, if you still desire to be her children. Did I ever tell you a lie?” ... “Hear! I am your Inkosi Enkulu—no Kreli, no Sandilla, no Macomo... But I shall keep every chief at the head of his own tribe, and I will make English and good men of you. Now, you great chiefs, come forward, and touch my staff of office; the staff of war I have thrown away.”
The following oath of obedience was then administered, the Kaffirs holding the staff of peace with one hand, while two fingers of the other were lifted up, according to the custom of these people.
“Know you this, our own Inkosi Enkulu, representative of our great Queen of England, that I (here each chief repeated his name) will be faithful and true unto you, or whomsoever Her Majesty pleases to place over us, and faith to you bear for the lands which I hope to hold of you—and that I will lawfully do to you the customs and services which I ought to do in the terms assigned, viz...” The terms pointed out to them by his Excellency were then agreed to. These were, to obey the laws established by him; to abolish and “disbelieve” (?) in witchcraft; to protect their people, and encourage them to honesty; to hold the lands conditionally; to acknowledge no Chief but the representative of the Queen of England; to cease from buying wives; to listen to the missionaries, and send the children of the tribes to their schools; and, on the anniversary of the 7th of January, to bring each a fat ox to King William’s Town, in testimony of acknowledgment of the footing on which the land was held.
This ceremony over, Sandilla offered his “great thanks,” professing, in the usual strain, to be “under the Governor’s feet,” and abjuring all idea of chieftainship in his own person, except as it was reflected in him by the “White Inkosi Enkulu.” He then added, “Your children now beg for more land, as they are very much crowded.”
His Excellency remarked that there was plenty of land towards the Kei, but Sandilla answered “He did not know that country; he was not brought up there.” “Nor,” said Sir Harry, “were you brought up in the Colony, into which you so lately found your way.” Sandilla “wished to protect both sides of the drifts!” “The soldiers will do that,” was his Excellency’s answer. Umhala spoke his thanks, which had as much meaning in them as Sandilla’s, but Páto’s were very characteristic of his nation. “I thank you as a great chief,” said he; “to-day you have taken me from among the monkeys (Note 3); to-day I may sit in the sun—I could live under you before—to-day I can sit outside. There is the Chief; (Sandilla); where we churn we take our butter; speak to him, that we may listen to his word.”
But the Governor interrupted him by striking the staff of peace violently on the ground, exclaiming there should be no Chief but himself, and, flinging the staff forward, made Páto, who trembled exceedingly, pick it up, and lay it at his feet.
“Take to the bush again,” said his Excellency, “and see how I will hunt you out!”
Konah, Macomo’s son, “thanked,” and remarked that he “was a little child, and had no place ‘to sit in!’” Macomo’s absence at Port Elizabeth (Note 4) prevented any decisive arrangements being made to settle his people.
After all the chiefs had spoken, his Excellency again addressed them on the subject of a fair division of the land, on the advantages of industry, of their young people becoming servants, and of agricultural pursuits; and, deprecating the love of cattle, he declared that each disputed bullock should be shot, and threatened to “eat up” the idle and the vicious. He pointed out to them the Kaffir police, which had been clothed—“These,” said his Excellency, “are not to hunt the good, but to keep rogues out of the Colony;” and, in allusion to the recent murder of a settler named Stanley, he offered 50 pounds reward for the apprehension of the murderers, observing they should be “hunted out.”
Colonel Mackinnon was pointed out as “The mouth of the Governor,” who was to be obeyed, and listened to in the absence of his Excellency; landmarks were promised, and arms demanded.
“Go to Kreli (Note 5) and Boko,” said Sir Harry Smith, “and tell them they are no longer chiefs. The Queen of England has sent me to keep peace! peace!”
The word was taken up by the Kaffirs, and accompanied by shouts on all sides. The Governor then bade them good bye, promising to be amongst them again in thirty days. The National Anthem, from the magnificent band of the Rifle Brigade, closed the ceremonies of this eventful day, and “Peace! Peace! Peace!” were the last words echoed by the multitude before the people separated—some to return to the Colony, and resume their pursuits—some to wander back to the people of their tribe with “the news.”
Among the arrangements for the protection of the Colony, a force was organised in 1848 by placing soldiers discharged from the 7th Dragoon Guards, 27th, 90th, and 91st Regiments, on certain grants of land in British Kaffraria, and thus forming military villages.
Since then it has been reported that these settlements have not answered the purpose for which they were established; I grieve to say that from all I can learn from good authority, the two great sources of mischief have been idleness and cheap brandy. The plan was excellent; the men so located were to be rationed at the public expense for the first year of their location. Seed corn and implements of husbandry were found for the tillage of their land; each portion consisting of twelve acres, with the right of common; to every ten men a span or team of oxen was allotted, and to every twenty, a waggon. While actually serving, they were to receive 2 shillings 6 pence a day, with other allowances. Each village to be superintended by a retired military officer, armed with magisterial authority for settling petty disputes, and this superintendent would also take command of the party in the event of its being called out to protect the Colony against Kaffir depredations and aggressions.
By this arrangement, the land would be cultivated as well as protected, and would that the men so comfortably provided for, would invite their friends to join them. Ere many years have elapsed, we may find the wealth of Africa appreciated, and her mines worked by the scientific men and intelligent mechanics of England. The societies at home are already alive to the value of Mr Bain’s researches in geology; and the botanist, the naturalist, the artist, in short, all who are enterprising and persevering, must reap the reward of their exertions in this vast field of new, important, and profitable discoveries.
Hands alone are wanting to complete the system of industry: this once established, would lead to a long and lasting peace; for, by industry, the interests of the Kaffir and the white man will be united.
The former will learn that his best policy is to work; and, although little in this way can be expected, at first, from a predatory savage, the old Kaffir will correct the younger one in the belief that the Umlunghi may be beaten. As another generation rises, it will learn not only our customs, but our wants; and, on the latter circumstance we may rest, politically speaking, with more satisfaction than on all the teaching young Kaffirland may receive, or on all the promises he may make.
Peace being fairly proclaimed from Cape Town to the Kei, Sir Harry Smith started for Natal, accompanied by Mr Southey, Secretary to the High Commissioner, and Major Garvock, 31st Regiment, A.D.C., and Private Secretary. The object of his Excellency’s visit was to inquire into the causes of that discontent which has so long existed among the Boers, and to take decisive measures for the welfare of the various classes of inhabitants occupying the country to the eastward. Sir Harry Smith’s determination to travel by land was a most fortunate circumstance; for, had he gone by sea, extraordinary opportunities would have been lost. The families of many Dutch settlers were thus overtaken, while trekking from the Colony to settlements where they would be beyond British rule. Some were on the eve of departure, and a few were pausing, but prepared for a move. In this state of discontent, misery, and suspense, the approach of his Excellency was hailed with an enthusiasm very rare among these phlegmatic and taciturn people.
At Colesberg he was met by a deputation of the inhabitants, principally Dutch, who presented him with an address of welcome. At Bloem Fontein, between the Riet and Modda Rivers, he was greeted by numerous Boers, all anxious to listen to his terms, and send for their friends from various points that they might do the same. The chief, Moshesh, whose country lies beyond the Orange River, presented himself to the Governor at Winberg. The chief was accompanied by his two sons, who had been educated at Cape Town.
Most satisfactory arrangements were made, tending to promote peace and content among the Boers, the Griquas, and the tribes under Moshesh, Moroko, and other chiefs. All expressed themselves satisfied with Sir Harry Smith’s “proposals,” for he pledged himself to nothing until he had removed, or overcome, many difficulties incidental to his high and responsible position.
One incident, trifling in itself, went further towards conciliating the Dutch than any well prepared speeches would have done. While about to reply to the address of the Boers at Bloem Fontein, his Excellency observed an aged man “whose whitened locks told of some eighty summers.” He immediately called him from the crowd; and, handing him his own chair, Sir Harry expressed his regrets that the old man should have stood so long without being observed. How few there are who consider the advantage we gain by dealing with others according to their dispositions and tempers, rather than our own!
Sad scenes of distress among the unsettled farmers excited the sympathy of the humane Governor on his journey. Rains, in almost unparalleled floods, having fallen at this period, the plains were inundated: the waggons, their drivers, and the cattle, were found resting disconsolately in the midst of a waste of waters. The old, the young, the sick, and the impoverished, were bewailing their sad condition at the foot of the Draakenberg Mountains, dreading their journey through the wilderness, over which they were about to drag their weary way, when he, who “had come because he knew they wanted a friend,” rode into the encampment of Pretorius. Some idea may be formed of the sufferings of these people, by the fact that the forelouper of the waggon of Pretorius having left them, a young girl of twelve years, Pretorius’s daughter, had been compelled to lead the oxen for some days; and in doing so, her arm had been frightfully gored by the leading bullock. The fatigue of a forelouper is great for a boy, and to a young girl must be absolutely injurious.
In sullen disgust at his reception in Graham’s Town, or rather his non-reception by Sir Henry Pottinger, Pretorius had resolved on abandoning the districts under our Government, and the example of such a man was not lost on his neighbours. From the difficulty of communication between the immediate scene of Sir Harry Smith’s proclamations, and the disaffected Boers, no positive assurance of better prospects had reached them, till he in person offered himself as their friend. A spot on the banks of the Tugala River was named as a place of conference, and a great many farmers assembled there, requesting Pretorius to address his Excellency on the subject of their grievances, which he did in such a way as to excite the sympathy of all who heard him.
The result of this conference was a Proclamation announcing “the Sovereignty of the Queen of England over the territories north of the Orange River, north to the Vaal River, and east to the Draakenberg, or Quathlamba, Mountains.” The Boers, to a man, declared their readiness and anxiety to return to the farms they had forsaken; those further off were invited by proclamation to leave “their miserable locations among the Draakenberg Mountains;” and the arrangements respecting quit-rents, judicial authority, grants of land, etc, were met with satisfaction by the whole population assembled to hear and understand them.
The Tugala stream being impassable, the Governor returned to Pretorius’s camp, and was there detained some days. On his way back, his Excellency had to ford a passage which, from the rains, had become a deep stream. The people provided a strong horse for him, and assisted themselves, in getting the travelling waggon, “Government House” as they called it, through the waters, which threatened to sweep it away. The indefatigable Governor at last left Pretorius in the rain: and, after crossing many drifts, forded a dangerous mountain-stream, called the Blue Krantz River. At the Great Bushman’s River, he found a party under Captain Campbell, C.M.R., and Lieutenant Gibb, R.E., who had brought a float from Pietermaritzburg. By these means the Mooi and the Umgeni Rivers were passed, and his Excellency reached Natal.
Many of the inhabitants had ridden out fifteen miles to meet their “friend.” The proclamations had satisfied every one of Sir Harry Smith’s desire to make all parties justly and permanently happy, and the town was the scene of general rejoicing.
After remaining a day or two at the Lieutenant-Governor’s, his Excellency left Natal for Cape Town, on the 12th of February; landed at the Buffalo mouth, from H.M. steamer “Geyser,” on the 15th, and on the 19th reached Graham’s Town. On the 1st of March he made his entrée into Cape Town, amid the acclamations of the people and the rejoicings of his friends, and the day closed with illuminations throughout the town. One of these was worthy of remark: it was a small transparency representing the “Hero of Aliwal” leading the aged Boer to his own seat!
One point has been gained by the miseries of the last two years—the Colony has attracted the attention of the whole of the civilised world; its resources have been brought into notice; and, finally, a Governor has been appointed, whose mind is unprejudiced, whose head is clear, whose heart is honest, and whose powers are unshackled.
While this work has been preparing for the press, we have been startled by the melancholy intelligence of another outburst in Kaffirland. The cause is traced to the deposition of Sandilla from his high estate of Paramount Chief of the Gaikas.
In perusing the foregoing work, the reader will do me the justice to acknowledge that although I have been sanguine in my hopes of peace, I have never for one moment swerved from my opinion of the Kaffir. From first to last I have denounced him as incapable of honest feelings—as an irreclaimable savage. No sooner were the Rifle Brigade removed from the Colony, than the wild beast began to show his claws. We have already received the grievous news of death and devastation to a painful extent, and all we have to rest upon at present is the certainty that no one knows better than Sir Harry Smith how to deal with these misguided wretches, and to hope that the final result will not be detrimental to the true interests of either the Kaffir or the emigrant.
The following is a summary of what may be called the first chapter of the present war in Kaffirland.
Sir Harry Smith having summoned Sandilla to a conference, of the Gaika tribes with the British Governor, Sandilla chose to absent himself: his adviser and supporter in this affair was, no doubt, his brother and chief councillor, Anta, a man already noticed in this work. Upon this Sir Harry Smith deposed Sandilla, and nominated his mother Sutu; the “Great Widow” of Gaika, in her son’s stead. Sandilla and his friends resented this, especially as Sir Harry had declared the chief’s land confiscated, and, in spite of all former oaths of allegiance, they treated the Governor’s messages with contempt.
On the 24th of December, 1850, Colonel Mackinnon, at the head of six hundred men, being detached to capture Sandilla, was led into a defile, probably by the treachery of the Kaffir police; for although they so preserved appearances that their conduct is described in Colonel Mackinnon’s despatch as “admirable,” they subsequently deserted by hundreds. Those remaining have, it is said, been very wisely disarmed. (Note 6.)
In this defile or gorge of the Keiskama, through which the men could only pass in single file, a fire was opened on the infantry who were in the rear, and who with difficulty and serious loss forced their way; dislodging the enemy from the bush en passant.
The casualties on this occasion were:—Assistant-Surgeon Stuart, Cape Mounted Rifles, one corporal and nine privates of the 6th Regiment, and one corporal of the 73rd Regiment, killed. Brigade-Major Bisset, Cape Mounted Rifles, and Lieutenant Catty, 6th Regiment, were wounded severely; and five privates 6th Regiment, and two privates 73rd Regiment, also wounded. A considerable number of the enemy were killed.
Colonel Mackinnon moved back by a different road, and on reaching the Debe flats, a horrible sight presented itself: fourteen soldiers of the 45th Regiment lay dead upon the plain. The Kaffirs had stripped them and cut their throats.
This disastrous affair was a signal for a general rising of the Gaikas. They stalked, as usual, through the land with brand and assegai, and the poor settlers in the military villages, who were gathered together to make merry on Christmas day, were surprised by the treacherous foe; and many were cut to pieces on their devastated homesteads. Among these thus murdered are Lieutenant Stacey, late of the 45th Regiment, and Mr Phelps. So say the accounts, but they must be received with caution, unless official.
On the 29th of December, 1850, Colonel Somerset attempted to form a junction with Sir Harry Smith, and for this purpose detached a party of one hundred and fifty of the 91st Regiment under Lieut.-Colonel Yarborough, seventy Cape Mounted Rifles under Major Somerset, and a small 3-pounder gun Royal Artillery, but the enemy burst upon the troops in such force that it was deemed necessary to retire; a desperate struggle ensuing between the enemy and the troops, the latter succeeded at length in regaining Fort Hare, but not without lamentable losses on our side.
In this melancholy business the casualties were:—Lieut. Melvin and Adjutant Gordon, 91st Regiment, killed; Ensign Borthwick, 91st, wounded, and several soldiers of the 91st and Cape Mounted Riflemen. Major Somerset’s charger was also wounded. Colonel Somerset in his despatch expresses great satisfaction at the conduct of the troops and their officers, especially naming Colonel Yarborough and Major Somerset. The loss to the enemy was considerable.
The colonists, who at first deserted their property, have since readily come forward at the call of the Governor; the troops have enough to do to defend the line of posts; and the next intelligence is waited for with an interest and anxiety which none can fully understand but those who have already experienced the horrors of a Kaffir war.
Meanwhile reinforcements are ordered from England, and the colonists have armed themselves to assist Sir Harry Smith. May God defend the right!
I have elsewhere touched on our hurried move from the Frontier of South Africa, by which I have been prevented from satisfactorily transcribing my notes on past occurrences. A trek in a bullock-waggon, at the rate of two miles and a half an hour, over rough roads, to which a tread-mill would be smooth, and an occasional ride “through the bush,” under a vertical sun, are by no means incentives to employment of any kind. It was a frightful and toilsome journey, especially to one whose nerves had been shattered by the events of the last twenty-two months. The only agreeable chapter in the journey from the Frontier, was the voyage of forty-nine hours in H.M. steamer “Geyser,” from Algoa Bay to Cape Town; the distance being 600 miles. What a contrast to the five days’ previous trek of 96 miles! Here was rest, indeed! Sailors certainly have a way of making things pleasant to their guests, and persuading the latter, at the same time, that it is they who contribute to the agrémens of the passage, whereas it must decidedly inconvenience, in no trifling degree, the officers and crew of a man-of-war, to convert it into a travelling barrack.
A deep debt of good-will and thanks do the 91st owe the officers of the “Geyser,” and long, long will the right pleasant welcome they received upon her decks be remembered by them all, and returned some day—if it be possible! But, it will not be possible!
Note 1. Sir Harry Smith’s precise words I believe, on good authority, were, “As for you, Páto, you are a vagabond; and, instead of being taken out of the bush, you deserve to be shot.”
Note 2. Soon after the meeting at King William’s Town Umtikaka died. There is some reason to believe he was poisoned. It will be remembered that he wished to assist us against Mapassa in the early part of the war.
Note 3. “I am no longer a man, but a baboon,” said Páto to Colonel Somerset, when the latter took the hunted chief “out of the rocks.”
Note 4. Macomo was then in gaol there for making a disturbance in the street, when intoxicated.
Note 5. Kreli had sent a messenger to the meeting, excusing himself for not attending, on the score of “being sick;” but on the 25th of January he presented himself at King William’s Town, attended by forty mounted followers, to remonstrate on the subject of the new boundary line between his country and the Tambookies.
Note 6. In my original journal, when speaking of the organisation of this body by Lieutenant Davis, late of the 90th Regiment, I remarked: “This experiment of arming so treacherous a race seems fraught with danger.” My misgivings have been amply justified.