I started after dark with my patrol, and we did eleven miles in the moonlight before we off–saddled for our first bivouac.
16th September.—This morning by dawn we were pushing our way along the Uvunkwe, but could find no sign of the recent presence of the natives. The river holds plenty of water, and is a very pretty one, full of long reaches and pools fringed with green reeds and overhanging trees; the scenery round is generally undulating yellow grass veldt, thickly dotted with grey thorn–bush; it is all parched and dry as a bone. As we got farther on our way, the thorn–bush became thicker, and at last we got into a forest of thorns which defeated us. We had to lead our horses and to struggle at a very slow pace through this dense, prickly bush, and finally had to give it up as a bad job. We then made our way with difficulty down into the river bed, where the going was more open. Just as we were crossing the sandy bank, I saw that which made my heart stand still. A path of perfectly fresh tracks leading from the water up into another part of the same bush from which we had just emerged; so fresh were they that the water in some of the shallower puddles was still muddy, and a dog was quietly trotting along the path towards the bush. We did not wait one instant; Poore and I tore up the path, followed by the hussars, as fast as we could go. Dashing along the spoor like a pack of hounds, we very soon found ourselves in the bush, and among a lot of huts and scherms; but too late! We could hear the crackling of twigs as the niggers bolted in front of us into the deep, thick bush. All their fires were left burning, and cooking–pots full of pumpkins and mealies were boiling merrily on the fires; their clothes and clubs, assegais and loot, were lying about in heaps; there were army greatcoats, white men’s and women’s clothes, axes, saws, tinned provisions, and other articles, evidently spoils of murdered whites; and among other things I picked up a trinket which had its meaning for us, and that was a small necklace of peculiar black beads; this necklace was of the kind which only a certain regiment of Matabele were allowed to wear, namely, M’tini’s regiment, which acted as the bodyguard of M’qwati (M’qwati is the high priest of the M’limo in these parts). We were in luck indeed if we could but catch these men; it is this impi which provides posts in different parts of the country with orders to kill any of the natives who desire to make peace with the whites, or to come in to surrender. I brought away with me a rhinoceros–hide sjambok (whip) and an induna’s staff. From these evidences, and from the appearance of the huts, we guessed that this camp was the headquarters of M’tini, the leader of the regiment; but we knew from reports of prisoners that M’qwati usually lived at some little distance from M’tini, in a safer spot, so we hoped that with a little searching we might find him. Therefore, leaving Poore with his men to destroy the huts, I took two or three hussars with me, and followed the spoor for nearly another three miles alongside the thick bush. But by this time the sun had set, it was getting dark, and I could see no further sign of the rebels. I therefore reluctantly abandoned the chase for the time being, and returned to Poore, who had now gone into bivouac on the river bank. Knowing that the rebels would probably remain in the thickness of the bush, but would have to come to the river to get their water, we lit up a line of fires after dark all along the river bank for nearly a mile opposite the spot where the bush came down to the river. This was to frighten the enemy from trying to get water, as they would think we had a number of men near each fire. As a matter of fact, so soon as we had finished supper we continued our march in the darkness down the river, and bivouacked again when we had got below the junction of the Uvunkwe with the Shangani River.
Following up the Spoor
Spooring or tracking the enemy was our usual way of getting to him. With a little practice spooring can be carried out with great certainty, and at a good pace.
17th September.—I started before dawn this morning with a patrol of a dozen men to resume my hunt for M’qwati, going back to the spot where I had broken off yesterday evening. Poore meanwhile took another patrol up the Shangani, in order to intercept these rebels should they think of retiring in that direction. On my way back I saw Ridley’s patrol in the distance, and accordingly went across to him and arranged that he should further investigate this patch of bush, and cut off its water supply again that night, both from the Uvunkwe and from the Shangani. Then I went on and struck yesterday’s spoor, and followed it into the bush; as this got too thick for the horses, we dismounted and pressed along on foot. Fresh spoor struck in on to the old, and every minute the scent, as it were, seemed to get hotter and hotter. We shoved along faster and faster, tearing along and being torn. Suddenly I see smoke through the bushes, then the yellow thatch of huts. I jump forward, leaving my hat in a Wacht–een–Beetche thorn–bush. I don’t care—can’t stop. There they are! I can see two men at anyrate dodging about—there may be more. One fine big fellow in European clothes clashes out of a hut and makes off with a gun in his hand. I yell to him, “Imana, andi bulali!” (Stop, I am not going to kill you!). But he does not stop, and I try not to keep my promise, but unfortunately I have one of the new–fangled guns that I do not understand—slipperty–flip, click–clack and tick!—but there’s no report; three times I cover him with my sights, aiming nice and low, just about the small of his back, but each time my gun refuses to go off. I have forgotten to turn on or off some little gadjet or other, and the man escapes. Curious that the momentary failure of a spring to act should spare a man to live to enjoy many years of domestic bliss or—to murder a few more fellow–creatures!
And that was the last we saw of these rebels. Of course we burnt their huts and followed on the spoor, and twice again we came upon others of their camps, but in each case they had suspicion of our coming, and managed to get out of the way as we arrived upon the scene, and it was impossible to pursue them with any hope of success in that impenetrable bush. However, I sent back a further message to Ridley by my orderly, informing him that the enemy still were in this tract of bush, and telling him how best to deal with them. [The orderly who took this note came across a lion on the way, and had a shot, but missed him.]
I then went on with my patrol, back along the Uvunkwe, to meet a party who had been sent after us from the waggons with additional supplies of flour and coffee on pack–horses, and we met them at the place agreed upon. During our midday halt for lunch and siesta, I found a snake had had the impertinence to come and lie alongside of me for his afternoon nap, and so I killed him. Later on I strolled down to the river, to bathe in a large and tempting pool, in which several of the men had already been having a swim. The first object that met my view on arriving there was a leery–looking crocodile, who seemed to be winking at me with one eye; I had a shot at him (which missed), and then I sought another pool to bathe in; this one happened to be close to the enemy’s watering–place, so, while undressed, I took care to leave my boots and rifle very ready for use in case of a surprise. Bathing became interesting when one had to keep a look–out with one eye for Matabele creeping through the reeds, and with the other for crocodiles rising from the water.