A party of the 27th went out from Victoria to clear the bush of the Kaffirs. In the skirmish which ensued, a serjeant of the regiment being shot in the ankle, the savages rushed upon him and beat him to death with their knob-kiurries (war-clubs).
After the troops had taken up their position at Block Drift, they were joined by Sir P. Maitland, who immediately assumed the command, and superintended the defences.
But, while the troops were employed in the Amatola Mountains, Graham’s Town was utterly unprotected, and bodies of Kaffirs poured into the Colony. Then began the work of devastation, plunder, and murder. Alas! while our hearts were torn with anxiety for those dear to us in the field, we knew ourselves to be surrounded by savages who openly threatened to attack us! In all directions we heard the reports of musketry. Now, a murdered waggon-driver was brought in, and now, a Kaffir spy was shot close to the town; the townspeople of course exaggerating the one waggon-driver to five or six, and the spy to “thousands of Kaffirs.” On the 29th of April, Colonel Somerset arrived with his division. The sight of the troops winding down the hill towards Graham’s Town, cheered the drooping spirits of the inhabitants, and made many hearts beat with alternate hope and fear, for we knew not what intelligence they might bring, or what dangers they had encountered. Little, indeed, can they, who never experienced the horrors and anxieties of war, especially a war with savages, comprehend the feelings of those who wait for tidings of the absent. The weary watchings, the very dread of the arrival of expresses, bearing we know not what tidings, the feverish restlessness to see the printed dispatches of the day, the waiting for hours in uncertainty, and then the regret, amidst our thankfulness at so much being done, that there was yet so much to do. Ah! these are terrible hours. I especially remember the reading of the first dispatch—the wife of one in command of a division, which had not been engaged, but of which I shall have to speak hereafter, tearing open the papers with trembling fingers, while another and I leaned over her shoulder, and would see what she tried to read with a faltering voice. Children looked up alarmed at they knew not what, pausing in their play, and quite silent; while shots echoed along the hills and through the kloofs above the town, and the sky above and around us was lit with the fires from the devastated homesteads of the settlers. The very sight of the thousands of cattle and sheep being driven in at sunset by armed herds, was melancholy; and the panic-stricken inhabitants galloped hither and thither, endangering people’s lives and wearing out their horses, causing a stir and excitement equally useless and alarming. The appearance of the town on one Sabbath morning was wretched beyond description. The bell for prayers rang from our roofless church, the Independent Chapel being lent to us as a place of worship, while the church of the established religion was undergoing repairs. A crowd of Fingo and Hottentot picquets were assembling in the streets, groups of people stood about talking, and others passed on to the place of prayer with careworn faces. At every opening, the sappers and miners were busy blockading the streets, and parties of armed Burghers came galloping in with fresh tidings of ruin, murder, and devastation. The return of Colonel Somerset’s division probably checked the advance of the enemy upon the town, where the greatest fears had been entertained for the magazine, containing the gunpowder belonging to the merchants. It must be added, that the energies of those who were willing to join in the work of defence had been considerably damped by a disastrous circumstance, which had occurred during the absence of the troops in Kaffirland.
Mr Norden, a merchant, having been appointed to the temporary command of the Yeomanry Corps (Note 2), which, it must be remembered, there had been but little time to organise, led his men out, on the 25th of April, to a valley a little beyond Graham’s Town, where it had been ascertained that a number of Kaffirs were lurking. He was a dashing, enterprising man, always ready to lead whenever a leader was wanting. On reaching a spot commanded by a krantz, or cliff, he divided his corps into two bodies, directing one to the right and the other to the left, with one of which he advanced towards a thick bush. On Mr Norden approaching a mass of rock, which served as an ambush for one of the savages, he was shot through the head, and fell dead. The wretch who shot him was immediately brought down by the musket of one of the Yeomanry; but others rushed on the murdered man, and dragged away the body. The Yeomanry Corps being thus divided, the numbers of the foe unknown, and the sun just setting, it was deemed imprudent to attempt the capture of Mr Norden’s remains from the Kaffirs at that moment. The following day, the body was observed placed in a conspicuous position on the krantz, probably as a decoy; and on Monday, the 27th, a large body of the inhabitants, a few of the Cape Corps, and a remnant of the 90th—in all amounting to about 200 men—headed by Colonel Johnstone, 27th Regiment, Commandant of the town, went out, and brought back the mangled body of the brave man whose life had been so miserably sacrificed. The bereaved family of Mr Norden must ever be looked on by the people of Graham’s Town with feelings of deep and grateful interest.
From the windows, we had seen the patriot winding up the hills; all eyes had followed him with interest; crowds assembled in the restless streets, to watch his progress; little thought they of the miserable result, or of the manner of his return,—dead, mutilated; stretched on a gun-carriage, with a cloak flung over him for a pall! That night, the air above us was thick with smoke, rising from the burning grass which the enemy had fired to destroy the pasturage for the cattle.
The providing the wives and children of officers with safe quarters was one of the first acts of the Lieutenant-Governor; and, although we were never under the apprehension of a serious attack on the barracks in which we were domiciled, it is pretty certain that, but for the preparations for defence, the outskirts of the town would have been destroyed. After the affairs at Block Drift, the Gaikas returned to the deep recesses of the Amatolas, and there informed their people that they had killed all the white men. The cry of “Victory!” rang through Kaffirland; the loss of our waggons, and the sight of the savages returning with their spoil, shouting their wild song of triumph, and bearing their trophies along with them, roused the tribes who had promised to “sit still;” and straightway the colony swarmed with these ferocious barbarians.
Sir Peregrine Maitland now armed an immense force (Note 3). The defeat of the Kaffirs in the Amatolas, inspired us with hope, and for a while, daunted the enemy; but the Kaffirs were like vermin in the land,—as fast as they were hunted out of one corner, they rose up in another.