In the midst of our career, we came to a sudden check at a deep drift, immediately under fire from a "koppie"[17] held by the rebels, who took deliberate aim as we leaped from rock to rock, leading our horses through the bed of the stream; but no one was hit, though three of the horses were wounded. Without waiting to form a party, each one as he mounted pushed on up the Kloof after the cattle, the enemy still keeping up a smart fire. As soon as all had fairly entered the gorge, the Kaffirs on the heights hurried down to take possession of its entrance, but a well directed fire from the party dropped behind to hold the opposing rocks, frustrated the attempt.
The sheep had fallen into our hands at the foot of the mountain, and now the fugitives, closely pressed, abandoned their spoil altogether, and many leaping from their horses, in the hope of escaping on foot among the rocks, were killed at close quarters, fighting bravely to the last.
The stolen horses escaped us, having reached the edge of the Zuurburg bush, but the whole of the oxen and sheep were recaptured, and six of the enemy's horses and some arms taken. Our own steeds were so completely done up that many came to a stand-still, compelling their riders to return a great part of the way on foot. Mynheer Rautenbach was very glad to get so much back again; but he deeply grieved over his nephew, the young man who had been wounded by a charge of "loopers," or slugs, which lodged in the shoulder joint. His sufferings were very severe, and our surgeon pronounced his recovery doubtful.
We were at this time visited by flights of locusts, more numerous than had been known for years. They came in such myriads as literally to darken the air, passing over for hours together in one continued cloud, stretching as far as the eye could see, and frequently shutting out from view objects at the distance of a few hundred yards. The sound of their flight was like the wind; the plain was completely covered with them for miles; and we moved through them with eyes half closed and heads bent down as they were borne along on the breeze. One while they looked like falling snow, and the ground was whitened over as the sun caught their wings in a particular light; another, they appeared sweeping across the sky like a dark smoke. Everything green disappeared in a few days, the young crops were gone, and the pasturage vanished. But what was not less extraordinary, every living thing in turn fed on them. Not only did the horses and cattle greedily devour the destroyers, and the dogs and poultry run after them with open mouths, doubling and turning and jumping off their feet in absurd attempts to catch them in the air, but the Dutch and Hottentot servants fried them in fat and eat them in quantities; the tribes up the country live on them during the season, and lay by a stock of locust meal[18] for the winter, drying them in the sun and pounding them between stones; but this is less surprising among people who kipper snakes, and store up bags of dried ants for family use. We tried fresh locusts, both cooked and uncooked, but found them, to say the least, very indifferent eating.
Our only communication with the world was by means of our faithful Fingoes, who, assuming the Kaffir characteristics, made their way down to Beaufort by secret bush paths under cover of night. On these occasions, which, except on emergencies, were only once a month, the "post party," equipped for the road, came at nightfall to our little whitewashed mess room for the mail; their tall, dusky figures filling the doorway as they stood folded in their blankets; the old chief, Umkye, a fine fellow of six feet three, minus an eye, receiving the mail-bag with many injunctions about its safety. Lingering at the door, the party invariably cast wistful glances at the bottles on the table, when, perhaps, some one, egged on by the rest, would venture to say, with assumed gravity, "Plenty cold night, Baas," and then (as all Kaffirs and Fingoes do) put the end of his thumb between his teeth, in a half deprecatory half-frightened manner. But finding the hint not taken, would return to the attack,—"Kleine sopie goot für de brieffe" (A little drop will be good for the mail). The thumb in the mouth again; "Banyou, Amakosa in de padt, Baas; ein bidtge sopie make big heart" (plenty of Kaffirs in the way, sir; a little dram, &c. &c.). The glistening eyes and animated expression that accompanied the pouring out the coveted dram, and the gusto with which the last drop was drained, would have made a fine subject for the pencil.
Their dislike to this duty was extreme; and unless old Umkye, whose authority none of them dared dispute, were of the party, ten to one the big hearts would get so small on approaching the bush, that they were pretty sure to turn back. On one occasion we found out that the rascals had only gone a few hundred yards from the Fort, and sitting down under the shelter of some rocks, indulged themselves with a pipe for a couple of hours, declaring, when they returned, that they had fallen in with Kaffirs, and barely escaped with their lives. Their escape, however, not being viewed in the light they had anticipated, they were consigned to the guard-room for the remainder of the night, and in the morning, their foot-prints having been tracked, they were told, very much to their surprise (never suspecting white men of tracing spoor), where they had been and what they had done, and were also given to understand that they would be kept prisoners till nightfall, when, though they had shown themselves rascals, they would graciously be permitted the undeserved privilege of proving they were not "amafazi" (women), and would be allowed to set off again. But they had really several narrow escapes, having been once or twice attacked and dispersed by war parties, and owing their escape solely to the darkness of the night and their intimate knowledge of the bush paths. Their journey this month with our letters for the English mail was the last for poor old Umkye; the post-party was waylaid by the Kaffirs, and he was killed; the rest, dispersed in all directions, escaping by superior activity, one to the Blinkwater, two to the Rifle Brigade camp, and one to Post Retief, bringing the news to the chief's wife. We were startled from sleep, about six in the morning, by the most unearthly yells and howls in the barrack-square, all the women joining the widow and her family in their accustomed wild lament. We were deeply grieved at his loss. His amusing and eccentric habits, his respectful manner, and regular attendance at our Church service, had made him a great favourite. Though he could not understand a word of English, he never missed coming to service on Sunday; but could never be induced to venture further than the door, where he sat cross-legged on the floor, stood in a reverential posture, or knelt prostrate with his face on the ground. At his own kraal he nightly collected his household, and prayed and sung a hymn with them. His loss was longer regretted at the Post, if not more deeply felt, than by his wife; for when we gave her a cow and calf, her grief seemed to be forgotten in the calculation of their probable value.
Rautenbach's nephew continuing in a very precarious state, we rode over constantly to see him, taking any little thing in the way of delicacies that we had, though poor was the best. One day we found them thrashing out maize in the house; five or six Dutch Boers with pipes in their mouths, and one or two odoriferous Fingoes sat cross-legged on the stone floor round a heap of "cobs," hammering away at it with keeries—the grains flew all about the room, hitting the clock, the windows, and the glasses, and striking one in the face in a most unpleasant manner. All the time we were talking to the Baas we were screwing up our eyes and ducking our heads, though the old man did not seem to mind it in the least, never winking even, unless actually hit in the eye. The noise could not have been very soothing to the wounded youth, who lay in a dark room adjoining, the window, like all the rest, being bricked up outside for defence. He was in great pain, and evidently sinking fast; two days afterwards death released him from his sufferings, adding another victim to the long list of murdered settlers.
The long dry grass having about this time been accidentally or purposely set on fire by the enemy, the plains around were burning for several days, nothing arresting the course of the flames except a road or a stream. During the day-time a dense cloud of smoke hung over the country; at night the sky was lurid from the blaze, and the effect was magnificent, whole mountain sides and countless thousands of acres presenting one sheet of flame. Nothing could be more dreary and desolate than the endless tracts of blackened country which the conflagration left behind.