Appendix.
Deaths of Five British Officers at the Kei.
I copy from a Colonial newspaper (the “Graham’s Town Journal”) the following account of the military honours recently paid to the remains of the gallant sufferers:—
“King William’s Town, 7th September 1850.
“The inhabitants of King William’s Town have been lately very sensibly reminded of one of the most tragical and melancholy events of the late Kaffir War, by a pleasing and gratifying exhibition of that mutual feeling of good will and companionship, which so eminently distinguishes the gentlemen of the military profession. It is now three years since the occurrence of the events alluded to, but that time seems to have had but little influence in obliterating from the soldier’s mind the remembrance of those who fell in the late strife, whether when in actual contact with the enemy, or slain in cold blood by the merciless cruelty of a barbarous foe. The incidents of the affair spoken of, are no doubt still fresh in the recollection of most of the inhabitants of the Colony, yet it may be neither uninteresting nor unedifying, shortly to repeat them, tending as they do, in some measure, to illustrate the native character of the Kaffir.
“In September, 1847, a party of five officers, consisting of Captain Baker (whose promotion to the rank of Major was received shortly after his death), Lieutenant Faunt, Ensign Burnop, Dr Campbell, of the 73rd Regiment, and Dr Loch, of the 7th Dragoon Guards, set out from Fort Wellington, to determine a wager which had been made concerning the locality of a hill which, from that place, may be observed as exhibiting a very remarkable resemblance to Table Mountain—one party maintaining the opinion that it was situated on the north, the other, that it was on the south side of the River Kei. With light hearts, and jocund spirits, they may easily be imagined to have parted from those companions they were destined never to meet again; and also, after having reached in safety the end of their journey, to have been returning in happy anticipation of the merry welcome their comrades would afford them with the intelligence they had obtained; when, in passing through a ravine by a narrow pathway, where they could travel only in file, they were waylaid by a vast number of Kaffirs, and literally cut to pieces. They fell, ’tis true, as British officers under similar circumstances ever will fall,—together; and bravely and strongly contending against numbers sufficient to combat with a battalion; but the determination, self-devotion, and bravery of such a defence only increases our admiration of their characters, and redoubles in poignancy the sincerity of regret.
“Around the fatal spot were scattered many ghastly evidences how dearly they had sold their lives, but on the same ground also were too evidently portrayed the characters and dispositions of their assassins, by the awful spectacle of horror and blood which was spread out before the beholders. It would be vain, or at least unfit, to attempt describing such a scene; humanity would revolt and shudder at the detail, and it is enough (if not more than sufficient) to say, that the detached limbs, and mutilated members of those who a few hours before were happy, and in manly vigour, were gathered from different and distant places, into the great coats of the infuriated and sorrowing soldiers, who unhappily arrived too late for the relief of their murdered officers. ‘Vengeance belongeth not to man,’ yet the human heart cannot know of such barbarity, without feeling at the same time satisfied, when assured, that an awful retribution was visited upon its perpetrators.
“In as perfect a manner as their mangled and disfigured state would permit, their remains were enshrouded in the soldier’s last covering when in the field, and deposited in one lonely and desolate grave, far from the resort of their fellow men—beyond the reach of the tear of the bereaved, and the sigh of a friend,—where no tablet would proclaim the worth of the departed, nor bewail their untimely and melancholy end. They were not, however, allowed to remain, in such undeserved obscurity; the genuine feeling of comradeship, which is ever found in the heart of a British soldier, and reaches beyond the present, sought a more hallowed spot where their ashes might slumber—where the tear of sorrow might fall upon their tomb; a testimony of affection, where the finger of regret might be pointed on a recital of their hapless fate, and where their virtues might be told to generations yet to come.
“For this desirable and commendable purpose an escort belonging to the 6th Royal Regiment of Foot, now under the command of Brevet Lieutenant-Colonel Stuart, accompanied by the Reverend J. Fleming, Military Chaplain, proceeded to the spot where their remains had been left; and having, with the utmost care, recovered from their lonely resting-place, brought them to King William’s Town, where, on the morning of the 31st of August, 1850, they were re-interred in one coffin, in a grave prepared within the boundaries of the church now being erected there, being borne to their last home by twelve men of the above regiment, and followed in solemn procession by the whole of Her Majesty’s officers in the garrison.
“J.S.N.”