CHAPTER V.
REIT FONTEIN—STANDING CAMP—MARCH TO SOMERSET—ACTION ON KROMME HEIGHTS—RETURN TO FORT BEAUFORT.
Having been thus served with notice to quit, we stayed but two days longer, and then struck tents and marched across the dreary charred plain for nine miles; our clothes, hands, and faces soon becoming as grim as the blackened ground, from which clouds of impalpable ashes rose at every step.
We halted at a deserted farm house called Reit Fontein, having had several shots by the way, at duykerbok and koran,[13] a species of bustard, highly and deservedly esteemed; its flesh, when roasted, is very like that of the wild turkey of North America.
The encampment was formed near the house, a short distance from a garden, containing a spring, by the side of which grew a large clump of bamboo-looking reeds, upwards of twenty feet in height; whence the name of the place. The neighbourhood abounded with duyker, bosch, and steinbok, small varieties of the antelope tribe, found singly or in pairs, in the more open bush; as also paauw,[14] another of the bustards, about the size of a pheasant, with black head and breast, and finely mottled wings and back; and parties of us went out almost daily after them, Baird generally making the best bag.
On the 6th I started with Bruce and 200 men for Somerset, seventy miles distant, to convoy ammunition, and bring back cattle for our commissariat. The halt for the first night was on the Koonap, in which we had a most refreshing bathe. The Fingoes, lower down, swimming and splashing about like porpoises; the instant they came out of the river they were as dry as ever, the water running off their shiny skins as from a duck's back. On the second day we entered a vast level sandy plain, unbroken except by immense ant hills, thousands of which dotted its surface as far as the eye could reach, fresh ones constantly coming in sight as we advanced. A deserted farm-house, one or two of which we passed each day, at long intervals, served as our hotel at night. We established ourselves in the empty echoing rooms, lighting fires in the grates, collecting the scattered chairs and tables, and spreading our plaids on the cartel bedsteads.
Our march next morning was still over immense plains, stretching to the horizon. We came on more farm-houses, abandoned like the rest, in consequence of the outrages of the enemy, and looking the pictures of ruin and desolation; doors and windows broken, dried carcases of sheep and oxen scattered about the front, with rusted implements of husbandry and broken furniture; and gardens overgrown with rank waving grass.
The first herd of springbok was here seen bounding away from us; and, though hopelessly out of shot, greatly excited our sporting ardour. Late in the afternoon we came once more to inhabited dwellings; where, however, we were not equally at home as in the untenanted ruins of the previous night. We drew up our waggons at the door of a Dutch Boer's house, in a deep hollow, where was also a little camp of Mounted Levies, for whom we had brought a supply of ammunition. As neither the Boer nor any of his family spoke a word of English, and we were in the like predicament as to Dutch, and German was useless, our greeting was in dumb show, and we bowed to each other and shook hands in solemn silence. Several Dutch families who had fled from their farms, were living here in their waggons, which were drawn up together for mutual protection, close to the house, their flocks and herds grazing in common. This lively place was called Klip-Fontein.
One of our Fingoes was caught at dusk by the sentry stealing biscuit from the ration waggon, and was soundly flogged by his own comrades—for being found out!
After an early cup of coffee from the Dutchman, who, with that exception, was uncivil and surly, we wound our way up the steep path, and again pursued the track across the sandy plain. The sun rose magnificently behind a distant range of blue mountains. Lots of partridges were flushed at every few yards, and afforded excellent sport for about two hours, when we came suddenly to the edge of the table-land, from which we looked down on a beautiful scene, the more novel and refreshing by contrast with our late march. Instead of the parched and arid plains we had been traversing for three days, a fine valley lay at our feet, thickly wooded, stretching north and south, and bounded by a range of grassy mountains, rising out of forest, and crowned with grey cliffs. Countless acres of prickly-pear, contrasting with the dark bush, spread across the valley, and strips of bright red earth appearing between, gave to the whole an indescribable warmth and sunniness. We descended for about a mile; the cry of the wild pintado resounding on all sides; then passed through a perfect grove of prickly-pear, eight or ten feet high, and having crossed the Baviaans River at the Roed-Waal drift, so called from the perpendicular red banks of the stream, rested under the shadow of the cactus for breakfast, the sun shining fiercely. Whilst the servants were boiling the kettle, we enjoyed a bathe in the cool rocky river overhung with trees, the clear water tumbling and foaming over huge boulders, taking one's thoughts back to Tweed-side and the bonnie salmon streams of old Scotland.