Having formed open column, we moved off across an extensive undulating table-land of the brightest green, extending for miles on every side, and bounded only by the distant peaks of the surrounding mountains. Far in front rode the reconnoitering party of irregular horse; then came the advance-guard of infantry, followed by the prisoners, carrying their pots, mats, and calabashes on their heads; then the sad train of wounded officers and men, borne on stretchers—Addison, Norris, and Ricketts, and a dozen more brave fellows; the long, steadily waving column—the 2nd Queen's; the stained and ragged 6th; the newly-arrived 12th, with their bright coats; the 74th Highlanders, in their service-like bush-dress; the gallant 91st; the lumbering artillery; the Cape Mounted Rifles; and a whole troop of pack-horses and mules.
Our retiring was the signal for the enemy to reappear, which they instantly did, following us out on the open plain, taking up every point of cover, and firing long shots, but we took no notice of them until they were drawn out far enough, when the cavalry charged them under Captain Carey, riding over and cutting them down right and left, wheeling round, and charging them again and again till they were totally dispersed.
Thoroughly exhausted, and scarcely able to drag ourselves over the last few yards, we halted at five in the evening, at Mundell's, a deserted farm in a hollow of the plain, after being under arms for nearly twenty hours, and without food.
One of our men, foot-sore and done up, who had fallen to the rear and got into the ranks of another regiment, was reported missing, but shortly afterwards limping into camp, abused his comrades right and left, for having thought him dead.
A mounted body of the enemy made their appearance a little before sunset, on a low hill, about a mile off, and went through a series of regular cavalry movements for our edification; unluckily they were out of range, and our horses and oxen, which had worked fasting since daylight, were just turned out to graze, otherwise they would have been treated to a round shot.
The wounded men had been placed in waggons to be sent to Post Retief, a small fort, about fifteen miles distant, but by the time they were ready to start it was getting too late, and as parties of the enemy's horsemen were hovering round, it was deferred till the morrow. Poor Norris, who had been rapidly sinking during the evening, died a little before "tattoo." His loss was deeply felt by his regiment and all who knew him.
Our bivouac was in a little hollow, and close to a detached piece of bush, where we found the bones of an elephant shot there a few years before. The camp fires looked singularly beautiful by night, scattered up and down the hill, and glowing among the trees of the little belt of wood in which our regiment had taken up its quarters.
All next day we remained in this spot, awaiting a fresh supply of ammunition from Post Retief. Numbers of mounted Kaffirs again made their appearance, and went through similar evolutions, but at a very respectful distance. In the afternoon we buried poor Norris, at the edge of the wood. It was an affecting scene. The corpse lay by the side of the open grave, sewn up in a blanket, through which oozed the blood from his death wound; around stood uncovered a reverent crowd of officers and men; grey-headed Colonels, and a host of younger bronzed and weather-beaten faces, in stained and tattered uniform; the soldier-like looking old General, with his snow-white hair and drooping grey moustache; the "funeral party" of the 6th, their red coats patched with leather, canvas, and cloth of all colours, with straw hats and wide-awakes, long beards, tattered trowsers, and broken boots revealing stockingless feet, leaning their sun-burnt cheeks on the butts of their "arms reversed," while the clergyman (the Rev. J. Wilson), who had ridden over from Post Retief with a small escort, to perform the last rites for one whom he had known in life, read the beautiful funeral service with unusual feeling. Scarcity of ammunition prevented the customary volleys being fired over the grave, and we turned away and dispersed in silence. Thus ended the brief but honourable career of a gallant young soldier, beloved and admired by all for his high principles and amiable qualities.
The General rode out afterwards with his Staff and escort to reconnoitre the enemy's position, and soon after his return orders were issued for the march at two o'clock in the morning.
It was pitch dark and bitterly cold, when we rose from our short rest, and we did not, for some reason or other, move off for more than an hour. At length Lieut.-Colonel Fordyce's brigade (12th, 74th, and 91st regiments, with four companies of Native Levies) moved towards the Bush Neck Pass, and a large Kaffir signal fire blazed up on the heights before us, no doubt announcing our approach to those in the valley, into which we soon began a difficult descent by a rocky and tremendously steep pass, slipping from rock to rock in the uncertain light of the grey dawn, or sliding in a sitting posture down the sheer gravelly face.