Fresh Horse–Beef
We eventually had to take to horseflesh. The farrier and the squadron butcher did the necessary preparation, and it was very cheering presently to hear their cry, “Now, boys, roll up for your rations.”
I now wrote a note to the officer in command of the waggons, telling him that we should make our way to the Shangani, and should proceed along its bank towards him, but that, being short of food, we should hope for him to send a few pack–horses with fresh supplies to meet us. Then, loading up the two native guides with as much horseflesh as they could carry, and filling up a tin biscuit–box with water from our water–bottles for them, we sent them off, taking their direction by the sun, to find the waggons and deliver the note. Then we ourselves turned again and made our way back to the Gwelo, and there halted for our midday meal and rest. This was our menu: weak tea (can’t afford it strong), no sugar (we are out of it), a little bread (we have half a pound a day), Irish stew (consisting of slab of horse boiled in muddy water with a pinch of rice and half a pinch of pea–flour), salt, none. For a plate I use one of my gaiters: it is marked “Tautz & Sons, No. 3031”; it is a far cry from veldt and horseflesh to Tautz and Oxford Street!
Our great difficulty is topographical information. Our two prisoners, whom we had now sent away, had been worse than useless as guides, because they had no idea of distance; our two maps differ widely as to the relative positions of the two rivers, and our view of the country is limited in all directions by bush. The natives, before they left us, told us that if we kept along the bank of the Gwelo until we came to a path turning off southwards at the foot of a tall fruit tree, it would bring us in a very short walk to the Shangani River, and we hope to strike that path to–night. We are all right so long as nobody gets sick or wounded, if we manage to get a tussle with the niggers (and I am in great hopes that when we strike the path, we may just drop on to them coming up it). Another difficulty is that our messengers may not prove faithful in taking our note to the waggons. Nothing like looking at the cheery side of things!
In the evening, we moved on again along the bank of the Gwelo, and soon after sunset we came across a path leading southwards from the river, and near the path was a tall palm tree, which we took to be the tall fruit tree spoken of by our two natives. This path was to take us in a very few miles to the Shangani, so, after supping at this spot, we started with light hearts to follow the track as it turned deep into the forest again. Every man was now walking, and either leading or driving his horse, and as we formed a long single string in the narrow path, our progress was extremely slow. On and on till past midnight, and by one in the morning we reckoned we had done about eight miles; but we ought, according to our guide’s report, to have struck the Shangani long ere this. But no Shangani nor any sign of it was in sight; so, calling a halt, I told Poore to rest the men and horses, while Gielgud—who was an old American scout—and I went on ahead, to see if we could find the river within a reasonable distance.
We two were mounted on ponies, which seem to stand the hard work far better than the horses of the hussars, and having bright moonlight to show us the track, we pressed along at a fairly good pace. The sameness of the forest scenery was very tiring and very depressing, and we only longed to come upon the enemy, or for them to come upon us, to give a little variety to the monotony.
On and on we went, until we calculated we had done another nine miles, but never a sign of water. The moon was then getting low, and we agreed the only thing to be done was to turn back while there was yet sufficient light to see the track to rejoin the patrol, and to turn them back once more for a second time to the Gwelo River. My idea, then, was that one of us should take the two best horses and ride for the direction of the waggons to try and get help, while the patrol should keep along the river bank, so as to be sure of its water, and simply live on horse until relieved. Gielgud very kindly volunteered to make the attempt to ride for the waggons. We had not gone very far on our way back towards the patrol, when the moon went down, and left us in the dark; but it only wanted a quarter of an hour to dawn, so we made a fire, and boiled our cocoa, in the course of which operation I fell fast asleep.
21st September.—As the dawn came on, I climbed a neighbouring tree and looked all round to see if there were any signs of the river, but nothing but an unbroken line of tree–tops met my gaze.