Colonel Somerset considered that this gathering of the Kaffirs was arranged to divert his attention from the cattle concealed not far from the scene of action, the Kei being in too swollen a state to permit their crossing into Kreli’s country—the Amaponda. This was, no doubt, correct; and as, from the nature of the country, it was impossible for the troops to follow the enemy at once, they vanished, as usual, in the deep recesses of the mountains.
Early in the morning of the 31st, Captain Somerset, Aide-de-Camp to General Berkeley, had very nearly fallen a sacrifice to his imprudence in venturing out, en amateur, with a single orderly, on the spoor of cattle. A party of Kaffirs suddenly appearing, Captain Somerset turned his horse’s head; so did his orderly: the speed of Captain Somerset’s charger saved his rider’s life; the poor orderly fell from his, and his throat was instantly cut by the savages.
It was hoped that the success of Colonel Somerset, at the Chechabe, would daunt Páto; but no offers of submission worth listening to were received. A few Kaffirs, coming within hail of the troops, called out that they “did not intend fighting any more; the cattle were across the Kei, and the Umlunghi must go for them if they wanted them.” Either Páto or one of his councillors shouted aloud, “We will not meet you, but will return into the Colony, and wander as wolves.”
Although I had seen Sandilla at Fort Peddie in 1843, I went to pay him a visit in captivity. The room in which he was imprisoned was half filled with his followers and councillors. Seated on an iron bedstead, with his blanket wound round him, he smoked his pipe in silence; some of his followers reclined idly on the straw mattresses provided for them; and, by the side of the young Chief’s couch lay Anta, whom he roused from sleep on our naming him, for he was as great an object of interest as Sandilla. Putting aside the blanket from his face, he sat up and eyed us keenly, looking from us to his brother, but what was passing within their minds no one could divine; their countenances expressed neither surprise, curiosity, resentment, nor dislike. Some sat round a fire in the centre of the room, and one aged Kaffir, with a grey head, gazed earnestly in our faces. This was one of Sandilla’s chief advisers, and one whom he managed to cage with himself, by sending for him amicably, giving secret orders, however, to compel him to come in case he hesitated. As the cunning Gaika has always professed to act “by the advice of his councillors,” he anticipated that the greater punishment would devolve upon them, and by this means he trusted that his own would be lightened.
The replies of Sandilla to various remarks and questions lately put to him are shrewd enough. On his being told, by one of the authorities, that if he attempted to escape from his confinement he would be shot, Sandilla answered that “as he had voluntarily surrendered himself, it was not likely he should run away.” Soon after his imprisonment, he requested a daily allowance of wine. On being asked if he had ever been in the habit of drinking it, he said “No.” Then why indulge in what he had never been accustomed to? “I am now the white man’s child,” replied Sandilla; “my father is wise, and I would do all things as he does.” When his warriors left his “Great Place,” to join the gathering in the Amatolas, he found one lingering long behind the rest. “What are you doing here?” asked the Chief; “you are like a solitary locust when the swarm has gone; so, the sooner you hop after it the better.”
“December 17th.—The frontier to-night is delirious with joy. The town is illuminated, and beacon lights telegraph from the hill-tops that Sir Harry Smith has arrived.”
Note 1. As was proved before Sir Harry, then Colonel, Smith, and published in a document signed by him, and by Captain Lacy, 72nd Highlanders, Arthur Balfour, Aide-de-Camp, and Mr Shepstone, Kaffir Interpreter. This document, dated King William’s Town, February, 1836, bears the marks also of Macomo and Ganga.