“6th. Our garrison is reinforced by a corps of liberated Africans, a happy, lazy-looking set, who are chiefly employed in escorting waggons. The Malays have also been brought in a body from Cape Town. They take the war coolly enough, and when off duty, lie about the green in the warm and moonlight nights, whistling and singing the most harmonious choruses. They will not enter the bush, and have never been of use in rescuing cattle.
“7th. Kaffir Jack, Cosani, arrived. He has rather a suspicious character, but has never proved unfaithful. His adventures would help to dress up a volume in Cooper’s style, for he lives much among the English, but can wander at will from one end of Kaffirland to the other. Some days ago, it was suspected that Umki’s son, Sio, had gone off to Kaffirland, on some treacherous mission from his wily father. Sir Harry Smith’s opinion of Umki was so bad, that he used to tell him plainly in reply to his fair promises, ‘Umki, you are a liar!’ Umki, however, never took offence at this. Falsehood is no disgrace among the Kaffirs; on the contrary, the greatest rogue is the best man. Jack came to say Sio had never been away. Just now Jack is under Umki’s stern guidance. At any time the word of a Kaffir is worth nothing. He asked about Sandilla. I told him there was no longer a chief of that name, that there had been one, who had been to his people as a string by which beads are held together. Sandilla had been the string, but it was broken, his people had been the beads, but they were scattered, unlinked for ever, and dispersed for and wide, and neither beads nor string could now be re-united. Jack bent down his head and mused with his hands clasped for some minutes, and said, ‘It is good.’ Umki and his followers came up in the afternoon; two wives, servants, and children. He and his ragged retinue amused themselves by inspecting our defences, our open gardens, and our thatched houses. If Umki can communicate the true condition of Graham’s Town to his friends in Kaffirland, they may take advantage of it. I am sure the Governor, if he were in Graham’s Town, would not allow this treacherous refugee to wander at large as he does. News from the camps—unsatisfactory—Kaffirs still firing into the bivouacs. Lieut. Stokes, R.E., slightly wounded by a sentry, Mr S having imprudently ventured beyond the lines.
“August 8th.—The Kaffirs have again entered the Colony in numerous bodies, and continue plundering and murdering as usual. We hear this day of the arrival of the 45th in Simon’s Bay on the 30th July. The distance they have to travel would in England be journeyed in about forty hours; we shall now observe the period that elapses between the arrival of the 45th in Simon’s Bay, near Cape Town, and their entrance into Graham’s Town, as well as that between their departure from Graham’s Town and their arrival in the immediate front of the army in Kaffirland. It is to be hoped that their approach will daunt the enemy, but the Kaffirs have learned their power ever since the disastrous affair at Burn’s Hill; and, in spite of occasional reverses, the tide has hitherto been in their favour. Their losses, considering their number, have been trifling; they have possessed themselves of the colonial cattle, and they have cut off vast quantities of our supplies, while we are obliged to pause. We have driven the great body of them out of the ceded territory, it is true, but they have taken most of the plunder with them into a richer and more fertile country. The month of July has been marked by the death of one of the Colony’s most promising and creditable settlers. Mr Gordon Nourse, Assistant Commandant of the Burgher Force, was shot by the enemy, while assisting a neighbour to rescue his cattle. Sir Andries Stockenstrom, in announcing officially the death of Mr Nourse, says, ‘He fell yesterday in a gallant attack made by himself at the head of a small party upon a body of Kaffirs in the jungle. The Commandant-General has to lament the loss the service has sustained of one of the most efficient, zealous, and meritorious officers under his command.’
“9th, Sunday. Sad news from a place known by the hideous name of Hell’s Poort. Five burghers have been shot by Kaffirs in that terrible pass. A party of nineteen having entered a rocky and bushy kloof in search of some cattle, they were fired upon by some Kaffirs posted on the summit of the hills on either side. The burghers, being surrounded by 200 Kaffirs, and their ammunition getting low, retired to their camp for a reinforcement, with which they returned, and again faced the enemy. Among the five who fell, were two brothers of the name of De Villiers, the history of whose death is a mournful one. As one brother fell wounded to the ground, the other ran to him to comfort and support him in his dying moments. His friends called him away; he would not stir, but held his young brother’s hand in his, till a shot from the savages brought him down, and laid him beside him whom he would not forsake to save his own life.
“10th. The bodies of the five Stellenbosch Burghers were brought in to be buried. A concourse of people followed the melancholy train of five coffins through the town to the burial-ground.
“13th. Rain, at last! gentle showers. Only those who have looked on the parched soil of Africa can have an idea of the blessing of rain after a long drought. It sounds quite musical as it patters on the few trees that are in the garden. The enemy have laid waste the country from the Buffalo to the Kei. What a sight must those vast tracts of country be, when blazing! The grass will spring up all the fresher for it, afterwards.
“17th. Walked into town. As we passed the Wesleyan Chapel, we saw Umki and his wives and children basking idly in the sun on the pavement near the chapel-porch. Umki was set aside by his tribe for being a coward in the last war, so now he bestows his unwelcome company on the English, roaming about, begging from every one he meets, spending what he gains at the canteens.
“19th. My child’s birthday! these seem trifles to touch upon; to us they only bring sad memories when we compare the present state of war and anxiety with happy anniversaries passed in peaceful England. News from the head-quarter division. The General is encamped at a place called Fort Beresford, so named in the last war by Sir Benjamin D’Urban, in compliment to one of his aides-de-camp. Colonel Johnstone, 27th Regiment, had led about 300 infantry over the Buffalo mountains, while Colonel Somerset, with a cavalry column and guns, had gone round the base of the hills, the infantry, ascending to the summit in single file, and Mr Melville’s Hottentots mounting the hill in another direction, killed three Kaffirs and captured some cattle. The troops bivouacked for the night on the ridge. Next day, every bush and kloof was scoured, but neither shots nor yells, nor the old cry of ‘Izapa!’ was heard in those now solitary places, the enemy having decamped in the night. At one time, a party of horsemen were discovered winding leisurely along an eminence at some little distance, and this was afterwards ascertained to be the chief Seyolo and his people coolly riding off from the vicinity of the troops, who, they knew, would have great difficulty in catching them, from their having no cavalry with them.
“In spite of the silence which reigned in these solitudes, there were evident traces of hasty retreat, by the fresh spoor of cattle; but to detail this march up the hill and down again, would be but a repetition of many other such expeditions. The Kaffirs slipped away, and the troops followed them with their ammunition loose in their pouches, to be ready for action, but returned harassed, disappointed, and half-starved.
“The country through which they passed is of a much grander and more fertile character than that occupied by the colonists; and, were the Buffalo and Keiskama rivers opened to trade, an immense increase of commerce would be the result.” (This desirable change has since been effected by Sir Harry Smith.)