We left Graham’s Town for Fort Peddie, on the 22nd of March, 1843, the waggon allowed by the Commissariat being only half the size of the one we obtained at Port Elizabeth. Just as we were about to start, we were ordered to halt and await further orders; and then I had to listen to a variety of reports. Some said another regiment had arrived at Cape Town, and we were to proceed to Natal; others whispered something about the Isle of France. At all events, important despatches had reached Graham’s Town from the seat of Government. So there was I, in my waggon, hired and packet for Fort Peddie, the troops under arms, the commissariat preparations made for the march, the tents struck, etc, and a probability of all these arrangements being upset. At last, a mounted orderly arrived, full of important haste, and breathless, as becomes a herald of South African counter-orders. The detachment was to be detained—for an hour—I forget what for, something about a few extra men, or arms, and we were thus delayed till the afternoon, when we proceeded as far as we could, and pitched our tents on the top of one of many hills, between which the wind came rushing in gusts that threatened to withdraw our shelter from over our heads. My child I screened a little from the chilling wind by placing a saddle in an angle at her head—a novel addition to the couch of a young lady.
The next day’s journey led us over grassy plains, in which the mimosa, with its bright golden clusters, abounded; and on the third day from Graham’s Town we reached Trumpeter’s Drift. Here we were detained for two days, owing to the swollen state of the river. When we crossed it, we sent the waggons before us, ere we took our seats in the ferry-boats, as it is not an unusual thing to be wrecked in the Great Fish River, although seated in a ponderous waggon drawn by fourteen oxen. The following ingenious mode of crossing a river was once displayed by a Kaffir who had for some time stood watching the vain attempts of a party of soldiers to struggle across the stream at a time when to ford it was attended by considerable danger. After smiling at their efforts with that sardonic expression remarkable among these savages, he quietly raised a heavy stone, placed it on his head, and then walked, with perfect ease, through the torrent to the opposite side.
Another instance of Kaffir ingenuity has been related to me. A missionary and his family were travelling in severely cold weather; now and then they lighted fires, warmed themselves, and then went on. The Kaffir drivers snatched brands from the fires, running on in advance, setting fire to the bushes on the roadside, returning to the waggons, again advancing, and so on, till they left a long line of fiery bushes in the track they had passed over.
One of our waggons stuck in the mud on its way; the drivers shouted, the dogs barked, the oxen struggled, but all in vain till the soldiers lent their assistance.
It is said that Trumpeter’s Drift is so called from a trumpeter of the 21st Light Dragoons having been lost in the river one dark night. It is a small post about twenty miles from Graham’s Town. The little barrack for the soldiers and the officer commanding, faces inwards upon a quadrangle, and makes but a dull abode, the windows looking into the little square, and the air being admitted through loop-holes in the outward walls. This gives the quarters a dreary appearance; but, in a land of savages determined to annoy us whenever they dare, and in whom no faith should be placed, prevention is better than cure.
Fort Peddie, from a distance, reminds one of Cooper’s descriptions of groups of buildings erected by settlers in the prairies of America. The Fingo huts scattered all round favour the delusion, especially at night, when dark figures stalk to and fro, dimly seen in the light of their fires, and the chant I have endeavoured to describe rises and falls on the air. It was worthy of English philanthropy to rescue the Fingoes from their captivity, under their hard taskmasters, the Kaffirs; but their idleness is almost incredible. It is true that on occasion they are able assistants to the Government agents in rescuing stolen cattle; but for this they are amply rationed. The Missionaries are indefatigable in teaching them their catechism; but no attempt is made to fit the women for service. Idle they are, and idle they will be; and we foster their idleness by protecting them with troops, while they absolutely refuse to milk the cows, unless they want money at the moment.
As Fort Peddie is on the eastern side of the Great Fish River, which is frequently impassable from its swollen state, we were often without the comforts of butter, rice, flour, wine, etc. The mutton, of the Cape breed, is indifferent, and the beef execrable. The bread was of the coarsest description. Poultry could only be obtained, when the Fingoes took the trouble to catch their fowls and sell them.
Since the Kaffir war, a tower has been built here, on the top of which is a six-pounder. An excellent barrack has been built for the Cape corps, and another for the troops of the line, but as yet no officers’ quarter. The houses which are scattered about the plain on which the fortifications stand, (for, besides the barracks, there is another temporary fortress thrown up from the earth, and protected by a ditch), give a picturesque air to the spot, and the thatched cottages and white chimneys rising above the few trees which have thriven round them, make a tolerable picture to look at, however little comfort there is to be found within them. The climate is certainly good, especially in the winter, which reminds one of our English autumnal days. The hot winds occasionally prevailing in the summer, when the thermometer is at 120 degrees, are most unpleasant; but the house may be kept cool by closing and darkening doors and windows. These winds never last many days. I must not omit to mention our simple barometer, which saves us the trouble of carrying one about. Thus, take a bottle with a wide neck—a large anchovy bottle for instance—and fill it nearly up to the neck with water; into this insert an inverted empty salad flask, or bottle of such description, and in the neck of the flask place a loose piece of cork, of a size that will admit of its free movement up and down. The falling of the cork indicates the approach of wet or windy weather, while the rising of it foretells it will be fair. Mention is made of such a barometer in some old Dutch manuscript lately brought under observation at the Cape.
And now, having given an abstract of particulars relative to the inhabitants of this land, in order to explain their relations to our Government, and the character of the people among whom England has established settlers and soldiers, I shall begin to relate such occurrences as I witnessed during my sojourn on the eastern side of the Great Fish River; I shall not confine myself strictly to either the diary or the narrative form, but shall use either as it may seem best to answer my purpose of giving my reader a lively idea of the events that I attempt to describe.
In looking over my rough journal, I find the part best worth transcribing is dated April 12th, 1843, and opens with a description of the “Entrance of Sandilla to Fort Peddie.”