6th September.—I am now back at work again in the office, but only doing it indifferently well; Vyvyan is away with Ridley’s column, and meantime Nicholson is helping me in the office. He has been marvellously quick at picking up the threads of the office work, and consequently is of the greatest assistance.
7th September.—Sir Frederick has to–day given me a better tonic than any which the combined medical faculty of Buluwayo could devise. He has told me that he is anxious for me to go and take charge of the column which is now under Ridley in the Somabula Forest. He has privately consulted Dr. Strong, who has been looking after me, and he considers that I may now safely go. After hearing this, it did not take long for me to get ready. Packing my kit on one horse and riding another, I said good–bye to Buluwayo, and with my nigger Diamond riding a third horse and leading a fourth, I started this afternoon, and am now camped for the night on the Umguza River, where some of Plumer’s men are stationed.
8th September.—Took with me three of Plumer’s men as escort, viz. Troopers Abrahamson, White, and Parkin, each with two horses and three days’ rations. We started at sunrise to follow up Ridley’s column. I could picture nothing more to my taste than a ride of from eighty to one hundred miles in a wild country, with three good men, and plenty of excitement in having to keep a good look–out for the enemy, enjoying splendid weather, shirt–sleeves, and a reviving feeling of health and freedom. Everything promised to make it one of the delightful times of my life. But before we had gone ten miles, I found I wasn’t very fit; at sixteen miles we off–saddled, and a cup of tea refreshed me, but I could not eat. I began to have thoughts of sending back for a cart to bring me ignominiously home again. However, after an hour’s rest, I reflected that it was only a natural weakness after being so long on the sick–list. So we went on for nine miles, to where Mr. Fynn was camped on a farm belonging to Arthur Rhodes (better known as “the M’limo”). Fynn is here collecting together native prisoners and refugees, and giving them ground on which to sow their crops. My thanks to you, Fynn, for that arm–chair where I slept most happily, and then the excellent tea and boiled rice, followed by another spell in the arm–chair! While resting here, three rebels came in to surrender, and they told us how the white troops, meaning Ridley’s column, were several days on ahead, and that two days ago they had surrounded the rebels and had kept firing on them for the whole of one day and part of the next; one of the niggers went through a pantomime descriptive of the battle, and showed us how, during the fight, he himself lay low in a donga, and heard first the single shots of the white men replied to by the deeper bang of the native muskets, then the increasing rattle and roar of musketry, then the rapid tap, tap, tap of the Maxim, mingled with the crack of volleys and the roar of 7–pounders. He imitated all the sounds beautifully, as well as the crouching attack of the skirmishers, the falling of the wounded rebels, and the flight of the remainder. His action was perfect, but I eventually discovered it was all a lie from beginning to end. No such fight had taken place—he merely made it up, as he hoped to please us; but meantime I was miserable at the thought that the action had come off and I was too late for it. At the same time, it aroused my impatience, and we pressed on that evening eight miles farther to the Bembezi River. There we off–saddled and coiled down in the dark, taking turns to keep watch. It was a lovely night, but was rather spoilt during my watch by a beastly hyæna coming and sniffing around, and growling and snarling at us every now and then.
9th September.—Started at daybreak, and got to Inyati (fourteen miles) by eight o’clock. Here we found Terry of the 7th Hussars with six men occupying a small fort. Their life did not seem too cheery; small fort, open flat, blazing sun, and flies innumerable. Rudyard Kipling would well describe this young sprig, fresh from Charterhouse, accepting the surrender of numbers of Lobengula’s trusted old warriors. He had under his charge in the fort stores of food and grain, for the better protection of which he had drawn largely on the roof of the mission church across the flat. After breakfasting here, we pressed on again under a blazing sun, hoping for water, but finding none. On and on over yellow, grassy, bush–grown flats for fourteen miles, till we struck a river bed in which were a few pools of water. Here I lay down utterly done up, but after a wash in a pool and some tea, I soon got all right, and in the cool of the evening we went on another four miles to the Longwe River. Like nearly all the so–called rivers here, it was but a river bed of sand, in which one had to dig for water. We found here a convoy of four waggons with supplies for Ridley’s column, but they could give us no information as to where he was camped, or how far ahead he might be; they were merely following along on his track. They had a strong escort, and were quite prepared to take care of themselves in the event of an attack. Among the troopers on escort was one Madden, an old Swaziland acquaintance. Our two days’ journey had brought us respectively thirty–three and thirty–two miles from Buluwayo,—a total of sixty–five.
Giants’ Playthings
Specimens of fantastic granite rocks seen in Matabeleland and Mashonaland.
10th September.—Again we started at daybreak, and passed by Taba–si–ka–Mamba, a mass of jumbled–up koppies, six miles by three, which had formed one of the chief rebel strongholds in this part of the country, until Plumer’s force had stormed the place, and driven the enemy out, on the 6th July last. The rocks and koppies here, like those in the Matopos, are piles of granite boulders, and in many cases assume most fantastic forms. Here and there they look like castles on the top of peaks; in other places, like gigantic loaves of bread, and in one place there was a tower of five of them placed one on top of the other for a height of nearly a hundred feet. We rode on until we came to the next river, the Umsangwe, a distance of ten miles; it was blazing hot, and I now began to feel a very poor creature. It was too far to go back again, and we could only hope that the column was not very far ahead, especially as we had not too much quantity or variety of food with us. I lay up during the heat of the day with a waterproof sheet spread over a thorn–bush as a shelter from the sun. The men dug water in the sand, washed, and baked bread. To bake bread, lay your coat on the ground, inside upwards, mix the flour and water in it (it doesn’t show when you put the coat on again); for yeast or baking powder use the juice of the toddy palm or Eno’s Fruit Salt to make a light dough; scrape a circle in the ashes of the fire, flop your lump of dough down on to it, flour the dough, spread fine sand all round and all over it, then heap the embers of the fire on to it; in half an hour an excellent flat loaf of bread results. It requires scrubbing with a horse–brush before you eat it. At half–past three we saddled up and trekked on to the Shangani River, which was only four miles farther on. It is a mighty river on the map, but is nothing more in nature than the usual sand river–bed with occasional pools, the sand being about a hundred and fifty yards wide, with reed–grown banks on either side. To get water, you have to scrape out a hole of two feet deep, and fairly good water comes immediately. We had brought a nigger guide with us from Inyati, and he said that Ridley’s column would be found on the Uvunkwe River, and that this was only a short distance on from the Shangani; so we pressed on. But as night closed in, our nigger got frightened, and he told us that there were Matabele about. We replied that that was exactly the reason why we had come there. Then he said that the next water was so far off, that if we trotted the whole night, we should not get there till long after sunrise next day. We tried for a bit to get on in the dark, but rain had fallen since Ridley’s column had passed along and had destroyed the spoor; we had no water, and only two days’ food; our nigger guide was evidently unreliable: so we turned back to the Shangani, and there bivouacked for the night, taking it in turns, as usual, to keep watch.