This loss of their cattle had evidently violently enraged the rebels, and they ran along the heights parallel to our march, calling us all sorts of names and yelling dire threats. This practice of shouting defiance and insult is very common with the Kaffirs; but their wit is not, as a rule, of a brilliant order, and we can generally produce something better on our side, which effectually silences the enemy. One remark which never fails to make them squirm, and which we therefore generally reserve for a telling “last word,” is the following pertinent question:—“Why are your crops not sown yet? Are your prospects of a harvest very gaudy, now that you are living shut up among the rocks like ‘dassies’ (rock–rabbits), and dare not show your faces in the fields?”
To–day, again, the enemy recognised me individually, and saluted me with threats, yelling my name, “Impeesa,” with savage intensity.
As we should have to traverse a somewhat dangerous path before we could arrive at our camp,—the same pass, in fact, in which Brand had been attacked, and so nearly done for,—I sent on a message to Plumer, asking for a few men to be sent there to cover our passage through it. Meantime, as we went along, we destroyed seven of the enemy’s kraals, and added to the picture by burning much of the long grass en route. Although the enemy gathered in some numbers about the pass, having seen that we were reinforced, they did not venture to attack us, and we got back into camp all safely with our loot shortly after dark. The cattle formed a very welcome addition to our commissariat.
8th August.—I was sent to find a good road by which the column could gain a commanding central position among the strongholds of the enemy. I had with me Captain Coope and several of his scouts. We made our way by various tracks and gorges to a koppie near to where Captain Beresford had his fight on the 5th. From the top of this koppie we were able to see the line of country the column would have to take; and from it I could see the spot where the enemy’s piquet had laid their trap for us in the fight of the 5th. Through my glasses I could see that the piquet was still posted there, and that among their number was a Cape Boy dressed in European clothes. While watching them, I noticed ten Matabele sneaking down towards the foot of our koppie from another direction, and we did all we could to entice them to come at us; but they were too suspicious, and gave no chance to our hidden escort of capturing them. So, having seen for ourselves all that we wanted, and having taken the necessary bearings, we made our way back to camp.
That night reveillé was whispered at 11.30. It was a curious time for reveillé, and utterly puzzled our cook; we had supped at seven, and it was not time for morning coffee; however, Rose (Rose was not a clean white–capped and aproned maid, but a horny–handed pioneer) was equal to the occasion, and hatched us out some bovril in a pile of embers (for no fires were allowed). Taking with us two days’ rations, we moved off silently, on foot for the most part, only the scouts taking their horses, and these, for the present, were led in rear of the column. So silent was our departure that my two native trackers did not awake to accompany us, and I presently found that the task of guiding fell on my shoulders alone, which is all very well for a bit, but becomes tiring when carried on for some hours; the strain of constant attention is very great, and the want of trustworthy assistance to confer with at doubtful points becomes much felt.
I was finding my way chiefly by the stars, and, during the first part of the march, by our old spoor. But now and again men would come up to advise me, with the comforting assurance that we were going wrong, and would endeavour to put me on the right line,—one, indeed, had his advice prevailed, would have taken us directly into a camp of the enemy.
Nothing is more distracting than such interruption, and nothing is more calculated to make one really lose one’s bearings.
The maxim, “Do not speak to the man at the wheel,” should ever be borne in mind, and acted up to, by those with a column who think they know better than the guide. If they think that he is going wrong, they should hold their tongues, but should also note every mark by which they may find their way back on to the right line, should he eventually have to confess himself lost.
But no interference with him should be allowed by word or move. This applies equally by day as by night. Over and over again I have found myself confused or harassed by amateur scouts and guides crowding on to one, and sometimes even going ahead, talking and joking, not the least recognising the state of mind of the man responsible for the direction of the column.
However, we got along all right, over villainous ground; but the way was not hard to find, because I had merely to follow our own spoor of the morning, and this I did by feeling it through my thin–soled shoes, rather than by finding it with my eyes, for which the night was very dark.