It soon became apparent that there must be something specially injurious to the prisoners in their life in gaol beyond the mere fact of confinement. Nearly all the men of the Hlubi tribe left it labouring under a dreadful complaint of a complicated form (said to be some species of elephantiasis), of which a considerable number died; others, as in Mazwi’s case, falling victims to consumption. On inquiry it appeared that the fault lay in the excessive washing to which every part of the building was habitually subjected—floors and bed-boards being perpetually scrubbed, and therefore seldom thoroughly dry. This state of things was naturally a trial to the constitutions of people accustomed to life in the warm smoke-laden atmosphere of a native hut. However beneficial it might be to the natives to instruct them in habits of cleanliness,[30] this was hardly the way to do it, and the results were disastrous. The peculiar complaint resulting from confinement in the city gaol was commonly known amongst the natives as the “gaol-disease,” but it had not attracted the same attention while the victims to it were occasional convicts, as it did when it attacked a large number of innocent prisoners of war!

After the chief had been sent to Robben Island, it was represented, by those interested in his welfare, that to leave him there for the rest of his life without any of his family or people near him—except his son Malambule, who was to be released in five years’ time—would be a great and unnecessary addition to the hardship of his position; and it was finally decided that one of his wives and a servant of his own should be sent to join him in captivity. A few days after this decision a story was circulated in the colony, causing some amusement, and a little triumph on the part of the special opponents of the chief and his cause: it was to the effect that “out of all Langalibalele’s wives not one was willing to go to him,” and many were the sarcastic comments made upon the want of family affection thus evinced by the natives. On due inquiry it turned out that the manner in which the question had been put to them was one highly calculated to produce a negative answer. Native policemen, who were sent to the kraals where they were living, to inquire which of them would be willing to go, accosted them with “Come along! come along and be killed with your chief!” which proposition was not unnaturally looked upon with considerable disfavour. When, however, the matter was properly explained to them, they all expressed their willingness to go, although a journey across the (to them) great unknown element was by no means a trifling matter in their eyes. The woman selected in the first instance was one Nokwetuka, then resident at Bishopstowe, where she was fitted out for her journey, and provided with suitable clothes.[31] She joined her husband upon the island as proposed, as also did a lad of the tribe Fife, who happened to be residing (free) at the Cape, and obtained permission to attend upon his chief. It was not until some time after, when Langalibalele had been removed to an adjoining portion of the mainland, bleak and barren indeed, but an improvement upon Robben Island, that two other women and a little son were added to the party.[32]

For the son, Malambule, however, there was no possibility of making any such arrangements during the five years of his captivity, as he was a bachelor; although when he was captured he had a bride in prospect, the separation from and probable loss of whom weighed greatly upon his mind. He could not even learn whether she was yet alive, as so many women had been killed, and others had died since from the effects of the hardships they had undergone; while it was more than probable, supposing her to be yet living, that she might be given in marriage to some other more fortunate individual, either by the authority of her relatives, or, as happened in another case, by that of the Government of Natal.[33]

Towards the end of his imprisonment, Malambule grew very restless and morose; and, when he found himself detained some time after the term of years had elapsed, he became extremely indignant and difficult to manage, being in fact in a far more “rebellious” frame of mind than he ever was before. On one occasion he showed so much temper that it was thought necessary to put him under temporary restraint in the gaol. Apparently he was very wise in giving so much trouble, for it was shortly found expedient to let him go, though it remains unexplained why he should not have been set free immediately upon the expiration of his sentence. He was sent back to Natal, but still treated as a prisoner until he reached Pietermaritzburg, where he was finally set at liberty; putting in a sudden and unexpected appearance at Bishopstowe, where he was joyfully welcomed by his own people. He did not, however, spend much time amongst them, but hurried off as soon as possible up-country to find his bride. It is pleasant to be able to record that he found her just in time to prevent another marriage being arranged for her, and that his return was as satisfactory an event to her as to himself.

CHAPTER V.
THE PUTINI TRIBE.

To assist in paying the expenses of the expedition, “Government” had “eaten up” the small tribe commonly known as the “Putini,” but properly called the “Amangwe” tribe, “Putini” being, in reality, the name of their late chief, who died shortly before the disturbances, leaving the sole custody of their infant son and heir to his young widow, who accordingly held the position and dignity of chieftainess in the tribe.

To say that the “eating up” of these people was an utter mistake is to say no more than can honestly be said concerning Langalibalele’s tribe, the Ama-Hlubi; but, in the case of the Putini people, the mistake was a more flagrant one, and, when all was said and done, there was no possibility of making out a charge against them at all. Finally the fact stared the Government (both at home and in Natal) in the face that a tribe had been attacked, members of it killed, the people taken prisoners and stripped of all their possessions, without even the shadow of a reason for such treatment being forthcoming.

Major (by this time Lieutenant-Colonel) Durnford specially took up the cause of this injured and innocent people. It was plain enough that the Government at home would never ratify the action taken against the Amangwe tribe by the Government in Natal; and that sooner or later the latter would be forced, in this instance, to undo their work as far as possible—to restore the people to their location, and to disgorge at least part of their plunder:—and it was evident to Colonel Durnford that the sooner this was done the better for all parties. The Natal Government would put itself in a more dignified position by voluntarily and speedily making full amends for the wrong done, and doing of its own accord what eventually it would be obliged to do at the command of the home Government. It was also of special importance to the people themselves that they should be allowed to return to their homes in time to plant their crops for the following year.

About May, 1874, it had been decided by the Government that Lieutenant-Colonel Durnford, in his capacity of Colonial Engineer, should take a working-party to the Draakensberg Mountains, and blow up, or otherwise destroy, all the passes by which ingress or egress could be obtained. The chief object of this demolition was that of giving confidence to the up-country districts, the inhabitants of which were in perpetual fear of inroads from the scattered members of the outlawed tribe. They had indeed certain grounds for such apprehensions, as one or two attacks had been made upon farmhouses since the expedition. Even these demonstrations were not evidence of organised resistance, but mere individual acts of vengeance committed by single men or small parties, in return for brutalities inflicted upon the women and children belonging to them. They were, however, sufficient to keep the country in perpetual alarm, which it was highly advisable should be checked.