Some of the people from the friendly kraal had, in the meantime, overtaken the English horsemen, and their presence seemed to act as a wonderful incentive to truth on the part of the prisoners. "Tell them," said Lord Gifford, "that if they all speak the truth to our questions we will do them no harm and let them go free." This had a wonderful effect, and, coupled with a private communication of a confidential nature, from the Zulus of the kraal, evidently to the effect that the white man's intentions were not hostile to them, it caused the prisoners to confess at once that they were of the king's following, and that the elder was his personal attendant. From further information then obtained from these people it was found that a mile further on, and hidden in a cave, were a troop of Zulu girls and other attendants with goods and chattels of the king. Guided by these not too faithful adherents of Cetywayo, the troopers soon came to where these people were, and they surrendered at once without any attempt to escape. These latter prisoners appeared to have with them all the paraphernalia of the monarch's toilet. There were gums, wax, and unguents for the hair and face, brushes, combs, tweezers, scissors, and razors, together with old pocket-books, almanacks, gaily-coloured pocket-handkerchiefs, and charms and medicine, made of ground human teeth, and hair and skins of reptiles, reminding one irresistibly of the ingredients of the witches' cauldron in Macbeth. A silk pocket-handkerchief was recognized as belonging to Colonel Degacher by the name in its corner, and this was almost the only article that could not be considered rags or rubbish. While Lord Gifford and his party were holding a solemn Court of Inquiry over this burlesque of human vanity a loud whistle was heard, and coming round the corner of the ledge, they saw Captain Hay and a Basuto approaching at a smart canter. Hay, flinging himself from his panting mount, and wiping the perspiration from his forehead, announced that he was sent on by Major Barrow, to say that, having himself failed in obtaining any traces of the king, and deeming it inadvisable to delay the others in waiting for him to catch them up, he had decided to increase Lord Gifford's little force with twenty Basutos, under their leader, Jantzi, and to leave the pursuit of the king in his (Gifford's) hands, while he (Barrow) made his way back to Clarke's camp. Meanwhile, the arrival of these additions to the English force seemed to exercise a marked influence upon the ladies of the king's household, who immediately jumped at the conclusion that Cetywayo had fallen into the hands of the soldiers. This had a wonderful effect, as they now discovered from the women and attendants where the king had actually slept the previous day, and armed with this information, they pushed on, bivouacked for the night at the nearest kraal, and started before daybreak on the following morning. From these prisoners they learnt, moreover, several most important and invaluable pieces of information: first, that the poor king was almost deserted; secondly, that he had been obliged to abandon his horses; and, thirdly, that he was ill and footsore.
From Tuesday, the 19th, until Wednesday, the 27th, long marches were incessant, and to describe the adventures that befell this small party would be merely a repetition of those already told. The arrival of Jantzi and the timely reinforcements of Basutos enabled Lord Gifford to detach parties and hem in the fugitive monarch in a manner he could not have effected with only nine men. It was now almost a point of honour with Gifford that his men should succeed in capturing the king after the way in which Barrow had entrusted the pursuit to him; and although he knew that the king was pursued by Barton's Native Infantry, three companies of the 57th, and 150 of Marter's Dragoons, he still felt confident that his party alone were upon the right track. Marter he had heard had gone back after losing three of his horses by lions in the district through which he had passed; and his only fear now was that the Mounted Police would take the wind out of his sails by a rapid move from the Transvaal, and capture the king should he attempt to escape towards the north. This he considered was not improbable, as he had news from Villiers up to the 12th, saying that the tribes in his neighbourhood were most unfriendly, and anxious to afford help to the king. Indeed they had attempted an attack upon the mixed force organized by Villiers, but had been easily beaten off. The movements of Gifford's party from the 20th (Wednesday) up to the 26th, were not of special interest. They marched and countermarched, the king never far in front, but always managing to keep thirty or forty miles between himself and them, and their information sometimes right and sometimes wrong, according to the feelings of the natives whom they questioned.
On the 25th they had tolerably authentic information that the king had decided to come in to Lord Gifford, and surrender. Dabulamanzi, however, a brave soldier although a double-dyed and scheming traitor, wrote or sent to the king, telling him the English would hang or shoot him if he surrendered. Dabulamanzi's object was most transparent. He hoped the king might be killed or die in the wilds of starvation, as then he might possibly be made the English nominee to the throne.
Jumping over the interval between Monday, 18th August, and that day week, during which the pursuer's movements merely resembled those of a pack of harriers when "pussy" will keep dodging and doubling over the same ground, we may come to the incidents which led up to the king's capture. On Monday night, 28th August, scouts came in, who kept Gifford and his party well in line with the king's refuge, and although their horses were nearly dropping from fatigue they marched on Tuesday and on through Tuesday night, until at daybreak on Wednesday they came to a large kraal situated close to the Ngome forest, where it was known the king had passed the previous night. This kraal was situated in a most curious and out-of-the-way portion of the land that skirted the forest, and, hidden as it was between two high kops, it might have been easily passed unobserved had it not been for the information Lord Gifford had been enabled to obtain. They approached this kraal at dusk, and found that the king had left early in the morning. Some mats, two blankets, and a snuff-box were recognized as belonging to the king. A couple of lads were caught, who at first would tell nothing, but Lord Gifford, assuming a stern air, ordered them both to be blindfolded, and said in their own language, "Shoot first one and then the other!" A volley was fired, and the ruse succeeded, for one boy had been led away out of sight, and the other, thinking he was shot, exclaimed, "They will kill me next; I will confess!" He accordingly said, if his life were spared, he would conduct Lord Gifford to the king's hiding-place.
What was to be done? The horses had had a terrible ten days' "bucketing," the men were tired, hungry, and incapable of great fatigue; but when their chief said, "My lads, we must do it to-night!" every heart beat high with enthusiasm, and hunger, thirst, and fatigue, were at once forgotten. That night-march, conducted by the Zulu boy, was an event that will never be forgotten by those engaged therein. Scarcely had the sun disappeared below the horizon when the devoted little band started on their way, and the novelty of their position in the wilderness could hardly be realized by those who were not used to the country—the deep hum of hundreds of insect creatures signalling their presence to each other, the lizards and poisonous snakes that crawled across the path, the grim, gaunt figure of the beast of prey stalking near the projecting rock, the yells of the monkeys, and the howl of the wild dogs in the plain. Busy, silent, spectral-like forms passed in the night, and, with a snort of terror or a growl of anger, moved out of the path, scarcely liking to let pass such defenceless creatures as men seem to be, yet apparently in awe of a certain presence which the brute creation can never thoroughly overcome. Tiny creeping animals crackled the crisp leaves as they scampered about in their fastnesses among the bushes, and sniffed the scent of the strange intruder, while the noiseless flapping of wings attracted for an instant the soldier's sight as some ghostlike moving night-bird flew around and examined the strange being that intruded in his domain. Having marched all Tuesday night, with men and horses almost dead with fatigue, they arrived at daybreak within four miles of the kraal where they were told the king was lying. He was, they knew, footsore, weary almost unto death, and so despondent that he would scarcely speak to those who still continued with him. Lord Gifford, knowing the king could go no farther, deemed his capture more certain in the dusk, and accordingly sent back a message to Major Marter, who was known to be not far off, for him to come up on the opposite side to that on which he and his men were posted. Where Lord Gifford was posted was a splendid ambush, as they could see without being seen, and during the day they noticed that an ox was killed and preparations made for a feast. They also saw Marter's men appear on the opposite heights, and then they knew that their task was virtually accomplished. Gifford's ambush, it may be remarked, was on the south-east side, while Marter had posted his men on the north-east.
The king, it was subsequently learnt, saw Marter, but did not see Gifford's men, and he considered that the cavalry could not approach without his knowing. But Marter had wisely taken off his saddles, and made his men leave their steel scabbards, advancing only with numnahs and naked swords, and then, disappearing into the bush as if disappointed in his quest, the major stole up quietly by a circuitous route to the kraal, and surrounded the king's hut. The Native Contingent were actually the men first up, as they were on foot, and could move more rapidly than the horses. These fellows dashed at the kraal, saying to the king's attendants, "The white man is here, you are caught!" Major Marter then rode up quietly to the king's hut, inside the kraal, and called upon Cetywayo to surrender. The king said, with a certain amount of dignity, "Enter into my hut; I am your prisoner!" Major Marter, however, declined this invitation, and prudently invited the king again to come forth. This was the final picture! A Zulu kraal is, perhaps, a refuge with as little of the picturesque or dignified as any known habitation, yet the poor king, somewhat bloated in appearance, weak, footsore, and evidently sick at heart, came out of his refuge with a royal dignity which could not be surpassed, and when a too heedless dragoon tried to touch him, said, in grave and majestic tones, "White soldier, do not touch me—I surrender to your chief."
Meanwhile Lord Gifford, to whom, beyond all doubt, the capture was due, as he alone tracked down the quarry, galloped in, and the king expressly said he surrendered to him, and not to Major Marter. With haughty gaze and supremely regal though savage dignity, with head erect, and the mien of a Roman Emperor, Cetywayo marched between the two lines of the 60th Rifles to his tent, while the men, by the order of Lord Gifford, presented arms to him as he passed. Such was the final scene of the Zulu War.