Mr Beaver’s conduct was humane and judicious in this affair. Colonel Richardson did wisely in accepting his proffered services, instead of risking men’s lives in a fray; and Mr Calderwood’s ready assistance was praiseworthy and valuable.
Unfortunately, a Serjeant of the 91st, when near the wooden bridge on the other side of the river, fired at one of the Swellendam Native Infantry, and wounded him, but not severely. This piece of folly was interlarded with the account of the mutiny, by which the public would infer that it was committed with the knowledge and in the presence of the officer.
It was quite reviving to see the arrivals of stores and mule-waggons, during the period of the truce. Seven Field Officers were also imported from England, and thus disposed of: Lieutenant-Colonel Nicolls, as Commandant at Beaufort; Major Wetenhall, late 10th Regiment, of Waterloo Bay; and Major O’Grady, late 2nd Regiment, was appointed to the command of the Levies in Graham’s Town. Lieutenant-Colonels Mackinnon, Napier, and Montresor, were employed with the General’s division, and Major Storks, late 38th Regiment, with the 2nd division, under Colonel Somerset.
The great misfortune hitherto attendant on the war had been the impoverished state of the Commissariat; but now, while we were gaining time and making fresh preparations for a renewal of hostilities, the enemy were growing hungry. Their women were their foragers for roots, and these poor creatures had carried powder and provisions for them from one stronghold to another for many months.
Wherever these savages found it impracticable to take away the whole of the cattle they had stolen, they killed what they must otherwise have left to fall into our hands; and, cutting it up into strips, hung it about the bush, in the densest thickets, to dry, thus providing for their friends, who were acquainted with these (probably long-established) primitive larders. Meat thus dried and hung up is called biltong, and is by no means bad when grated.
The remains of Captain Sandes, Cape Mounted Rifles, were at last discovered on the Debe flats, near the side of the road leading to Fort Wiltshire, by a party of his own regiment, who were patrolling in that neighbourhood. A letter was found in the pocket of his jacket, and his eye-glass lay near him; by these, and his dress, he was identified. Here Mr Macdonald, a young Ensign of the Cape Corps, caused a grave to be dug by the soldiers, with their swords: “Not a drum was heard, not a funeral note,” at that melancholy burial, in the solitary plains of Africa, and though it may be little thought of beyond the suffering friends and relations of that poor murdered man, the circumstances of his death, fighting alone and desperately as he did through hordes of savages in their first moments of ferocious excitement, must ever, when spoken of, awaken the sympathy and regret of his countrymen. The discovery of his remains was the only consolation left to his unfortunate widow, who only awaited this to leave the land which had brought her so much misery. It would have been intrusive to have troubled her with empty condolences, but there were those who felt deeply for her, and longed to assure her of their sympathy.
Lieutenant Lewes, of the 27th Regiment, met his death by accident, falling from his horse against the tressel-boom of a waggon. He lingered only a short time afterwards, and lies buried near the Camp at Fort Cox, mourned by all his brother officers, who were sincerely attached to him, and regretted by all who were acquainted with his honest-heartedness and kindly disposition.
If any proof were wanting of the innate villainy of the Kaffirs, it would be furnished by what occurred during the time. Stock’s people, in passing by Newtondale, formerly a mission station, twelve miles from Fort Peddie, being hospitably sheltered and fed there by a party guarding that spot, the repentant chief repaid this kindness by walking off at dawn with what cattle his people could drive away! At Fort Hare, Macomo began his usual career of drunkenness, maltreating his wives, and, in a fit of passion, striking one of his children dead out of its mother’s arms! At times, he is in a perfectly frantic state, riding wildly about the neighbourhood of the General’s camp, in an old uniform. The last time I saw him was at a moment of peace. The band of the 7th was playing some choice pieces, and Macomo, in a blue coat and brass buttons, trousers with a broad red stripe, and a well-burnished dragoon helmet, stood by, calmly listening, with equal attention, to a set of lively polkas, and next to a glorious air from “Lucrezia Borgia.” Music has the most soothing effect on a Kaffir. The savage, Umhala, has been known to shed tears, and retire from observation, on hearing the band of a regiment playing in Graham’s Town.
Now that the fighting is over, I confess I should like to see a foray. I have witnessed the march of a Commando, but in this there is little excitement. The sound of the trumpet among the wild mountains in Africa, the “upsaddling” from a state of calm repose—the “assembling”—the steady forward movement—the gradual hum of voices on the look-out—the first sight of cattle quietly grazing in some wooded kloof—the dusky forms that are seen creeping away, bewitching the cattle on—the extending the cavalry, who spread themselves out in all directions, and dash at full speed, in parties of two and three, towards the thieves and their prey, must make a picture of no ordinary interest. Then, the hunt through the bush—the flying up and down short cuts, to intercept the enemy, or drive him into an open plain—more resembles the hunting some wild animal than any thing else; while, in the distance, the Kaffir scouts and videttes, who dot the hill-sides, are seen skimming along the mountain-ridges, with news of the fray, to their friends.
“November 25th.—We have had melancholy proof of the sickness in the field in the death of Captain Knight, 7th Dragoon Guards. Although he went into the field in good health, the cold and privation he endured on service in a few weeks laid him on his death-bed, with disease of the liver. In his military career, he was most fortunate, obtaining his commission as Cornet in the 7th in 1841, and his troop, by the death of Captain Bambrick, killed in action at Burn’s Hill, on the 16th of April, 1846.”