THE GRAVES AT POST RETIEF.
CHAPTER VIII.
CATTLE LIFTING—KAFFIR AND FINGO CUSTOMS, ETC.
Nov. 18th.—Between ten and eleven in the forenoon, parade and drill having been got over as usual in the early morning, the camp, in shirt sleeves, was hushed in its first siesta; we were all lying, like so many cucumbers under frames, in our sultry tents, which, in spite of wet blankets and "raised walls," were but a degree more bearable than the scorching summer sun outside, when distant shots were suddenly heard, and an alarm was given of an attack on the cattle out grazing at the foot of the hills, about a mile from the sentries. In an instant all were astir, a party of Cape Corps were in the saddle, and followed by a yelling posse of naked Fingoes on bare-backed horses, thundered past us as we stood outside the lines, telescope in hand.
A body of Kaffirs, who must have descended from the mountains before daylight, had concealed themselves in a deep sluit, or empty watercourse, running through the best pasturage, and waiting until the cattle had got between them and the hills, rushed out, and, after an ineffectual resistance from the outlying picquet of Levies, two of whom were wounded, had gone off at full gallop with the whole, which we now saw them driving in three separate herds up the grassy sides of the mountain; the ascent, however, was fortunately so steep that our horsemen had reached its foot before the Kaffirs were half way up; a very pretty skirmish took place through the bushes, and the slope was soon thickly dotted with puffs of blue smoke. The cattle were recaptured and brought in, with the exception of some dozen which had escaped into the bush. The trembling herdsmen got a reprimand, and a warning to keep nearer home in future. Many of the Hottentot women in camp seemed by no means pleased at the issue of the chase, and in fact, whenever they dared express it, their sympathies were evidently on the side of the enemy.
The merry Fingoes who had borne the most conspicuous part in this little affair, as a matter of course, made it an excuse for a jollification, and after sunset their camp, some few hundred yards from ours, resounded with loud shrieks and laughter, and their quaint and striking choruses, with the thumping obligato accompaniment, rose above every other sound in the evening air. It was a constant amusement to us to visit these happy good-natured fellows when in standing camp, and see their mode of life, which is exactly like that of the Kaffir in times of peace; their extraordinary habits and customs are most interesting. On this occasion, finding a blanketed group sitting apart in a circle smoking the dagha before described, I squatted down at their invitation, cross-legged, in the ring, and receiving the rude cow-horn pipe in my turn, took a pull at its capacious mouth, coughing violently at the suffocating fumes, as indeed they all did more or less, and after tasting the nasty decoction of bark which followed round in a calabash, took the politely-proffered spitting-tube of my next neighbour, signally failing, however, in the orthodox whistle, to the unbounded delight of the Fingoes, whose hearty ringing laughter was most contagious.
In this way they sat and passed the time until their grand banquet was ready, which we saw preparing on the fire in the shape of a large three-legged iron pot full of tripe and offal, from which issued a reeking steam of most unsavoury odour. Others with long festoons of unwashed intestines in their hands roasted them bit by bit on the glowing embers, and holding the frizzling end between their teeth cut it off with their sharp assegais so closely as to make one quake for the safety of their protuberant lips; after helping himself, the envied owner would do a few inches more for his neighbour, sticking it into his open mouth for him burning hot, and sever it in like manner.
The fondness of the Fingo for animal food is extraordinary, and when in the field he will do almost anything to obtain it; the daily ration is a mere trifle to him, serving only to whet his appetite, and in spite of the consequent severe self-punishment of being two days without, he cannot resist devouring the whole issue of "three days' rations" at one glorious meal. Marrow bones, however, are his especial weakness, and it is quite a picture to watch him roasting them in the hot wood ashes, affectionately turning them over, his happy face all beaming with oil and smiles, and then breaking the unctuous luxuries between two smooth stones, which, as well as the bones, are licked perfectly clean, and after a minute and repeated inspection reluctantly thrown away with a sigh of regret.