“I am afraid,” says the writer, “I can give you no description of the attack itself. Were it not that life and death were concerned in it, I should have pronounced it a most beautiful sight. The Kaffir commanders sent their aides-de-camp from one party to another, just as you would see it done on a field-day with European troops. The main bodies were continually increasing with horse and shot-men, and soon after eleven the array was truly terrific. The largest body was to the westward. Finding their scheme of drawing the troops out did not succeed, small parties advanced in skirmishing order, and then the two divisions of Páto and the Gaikas moved towards each other, as if intending a combined attack on some given point. Colonel Lindsay was superintending the working of the gun himself, and, as soon as a body of the Gaikas came within range, a shot was sent into the midst of them, which knocked over several, disconcerted them a little, and threw them into confusion; rapid discharges of shot and shell followed. The Kaffirs now extended themselves in a line six miles in length. These advancing at the same time, so filled the valley that it seemed a mass of moving Kaffirs; rockets and shells were poured rapidly on them, and presently a tremendous fire of musketry was poured, happily, over our heads. The enemy, however, did not come near enough for the infantry to play upon them, and only a few shots were fired from the infantry barracks. While they were rifling a store, a few shots from the howitzer sent them flying, carrying off their booty, blankets, etc; a rocket was then sent after them, causing them to drop their plunder.
“The guns having frightened the cattle of the Fingoes under the fort, they (the cattle) ran off, and were captured by the Kaffirs, but the brave Fingoes, following them, took a considerable number. The actual fighting was between the Fingoes and Kaffirs: the troops could not have gone out without exposing the forts to danger, as there were masses ready to pour in at all quarters.
“The dragoons were ordered out, and, though rather late, followed up some of Páto’s men, who fled at their approach, Sir Harry Darell galloping after them with his troop. The daring Fingoes followed the Kaffirs to the Gwanga river, four miles off. Twelve of the Fingoes were killed, including a woman and child. The two latter were destroyed by the bursting of a shell over the trench under the fort, in which the poor Fingo women, and their families, were placed for safety.”
Upwards of two hundred of the enemy fell, and more were afterwards ascertained to be dead and dying, but they carried off the greater part of the cattle. It has always been a matter of astonishment to me that they did not fire the outer residences of the inhabitants, civil and military, built of wood or unburned brick, thatched, and abandoned by their inmates, with furniture and stores standing in them. Plunder was the Kaffir’s aim, however; and he obtained the plunder he loved best—cattle. The force, for the protection of such a post as Fort Peddie, was only sufficient to act on the defensive; and it was a horrible reflection to all, that, if the enemy did succeed in making an entrance, every soul would be murdered, unless some unhappy women were spared to swell the number of some savage chieftain’s wives.
In spite of their numbers, these wretches were scattered in about two hours; but they bore off the cattle. Not one white man fell on that memorable day: and, so intent was Colonel Lindsay on the working of the gun with Lieutenant King, R.A., that he was unconscious or careless of the balls whistling round his elevated position, until reminded of it by his Adjutant, Lieutenant Jennings.
While this fearful warfare was going on at Fort Peddie, Colonel Somerset, with an immense train of waggons, containing supplies and ammunition, and a force of dragoons, Cape Mounted Riflemen, and Burghers of all sorts, sizes, colours, and denominations, was moving thitherwards through the bush, avoiding the defiles near Trumpeter’s, and making a détour by Commatjes. Colonel Richardson, with a division of the 7th, was sent from Graham’s Town, in the middle of the night, to draw the attention of the enemy from Colonel Somerset’s party, but did not meet any Kaffirs. The enemy were on the alert, as usual, having their scouts watching the country; and, before Colonel Somerset could reach his destination, he was warned of the proximity of the foe by shots fired at the leading oxen of a foremost waggon; but Colonel Somerset, ready-witted in the bush as a Kaffir, had anticipated this, and provided spare oxen. With admirable coolness and speed, the dead oxen were cut away, and fresh ones “inspanned,” and in this manner, under the fire of the enemy, did Colonel Somerset and his gallant band make their way through the dense bush, up narrow and precipitous defiles, down the valleys, and across the dangerous drifts, and succeeded in reaching Fort Peddie, with the loss of four men of his own regiment; two or three also being wounded. Major Gibsone, 7th Dragoon Guards, and Lieutenant Stokes, R.E., had their horses shot under them at the first attack, and some troopers were killed.
This division left Graham’s Town on the 29th of May, the day after the engagement at Peddie, but before any intelligence of it had been received. On the 30th, at midnight, we heard the 7th Dragoon Guards gathering under our windows, in Graham’s Town, previously to starting to make their demonstration; and on Sunday, the 31st of May, Sir Peregrine Maitland, with a small escort, proceeded to a tower about ten miles from town, from which he observed Colonel Somerset bivouacked. It was not known till the next day that Colonel Somerset had encountered the enemy. No news was received from him, till he could add that he had passed the bush, and was within sight of Peddie.
Never happy in idleness when there was an enemy at hand, Colonel Somerset only remained long enough to Peddie to refresh his men and horses, and then again moved into the bush. Well acquainted with the disposition, habits, and superstitions of the Kaffirs, Colonel Somerset is the kind of foe they most dread; brave, hardy, active, and high-spirited, he is just the man to lead the hardy Cape Corps against such barbarians. And now, again, he was soon upon some of the stragglers who had attacked Fort Peddie on the 28th of May. They had assembled “to breakfast,” in a kloof, thickly wooded; but on one green spot, lit by the sun, there was gathered a tolerable array of them, little dreaming that am enemy as wary as themselves was at hand. The green and sunlit spot was soon darkened by the smoke of British artillery, and the kloof and mountains gave back the thundering echoes to the astonished ears of the savages. Such as escaped death slipped through the bush, and along the wooded ravines, to warn their friends of danger.
Colonel Somerset then moved with his division to a place where wood and water offered the means of a pleasant bivouac, and the troops were about to open their haversacks and turn their horses, knee-haltered, out to grass, when Lieutenant Bisset, Cape Mounted Rifles, who had gone out with Lieutenant Armstrong, of the same corps, to reconnoitre (the latter having observed a few Kaffirs skulking near the bush, and surmised that more were in the neighbourhood), rode back with the intelligence that, his horse having carried him up the slope of a hill, he had found himself just above a body of about six hundred Kaffirs. These savages, having had a long march, were halting on their way, preparatory, perhaps, to attacking the waggons, which they did not know had passed through Commatjes Bush; or, it may be, they had been stayed in their progress by the sound of the shells thrown into the kloof, to rout the “breakfast-party,” two hours before. There they were, however, a regular “clump of Kaffirs.” Down the slope flew the fiery steed, which could only be guided, not stopped, in its career, and right past the dark mass was borne the rider, while they, bewildered at the unexpected sight of the “wild horseman” in that sequestered valley, never moved, but gazed in silence at him as he sped past them. “Wearing round,” in sailor’s phrase, his impetuous and hard-mouthed horse, he managed to bring it up at the halting-place of the division, where he reported the near proximity of the enemy to Colonel Somerset, who, lifting has cap from his head, gave three hearty cheers and shouted to Major Gibsone (7th Dragoon Guards), “Return carbines, draw swords, and charge!”
“Hurrah!” was echoed back; and on they dashed, Dragoons, Cape Corps, Burghers, Hottentots, and Fingoes. They found the enemy up and in position; but they had never intended to be caught in an open plain. They had never before had an opportunity of judging fairly of a charge of English cavalry. Such a mêlée. The cavalry dashed through the phalanx of Kaffirs, and, for want of more cavalry to support them, dashed back again. A Hottentot soldier, one of the Sturdy Cape Corps, having two horses given him to take care of, charged unarmed, save his sword, and with a horse in each hand! There was great slaughter among the enemy. Captain Walpole, R.E., who had gone out as an amateur, was severely wounded in two places; Sir Harry Darell was again wounded, but not severely, with an assegai, as was also Lieutenant Bunbury, 7th Dragoon Guards. Such Kaffirs as could not escape fell down exhausted, and cried for mercy: there was a great deal of cunning in this,—they would have stabbed any one who approached near enough to them to offer a kind word. They had all had enough, however, of meeting a combined force of cavalry and Cape Corps, and no doubt the latter tried to surpass themselves. Those gallant little “Totties” are an untiring, determined band. How little do we know in England of the smartness and courage of the Hottentot!