Next morning the whole column under Colonel Buller, encamped close to the ruins of Bear's farm, which was to be a permanent position intended to keep a check on the enemy in this quarter. Its proximity to Post Retief, not more than two hours' ride, enabled us frequently to see our friends of the gallant and renowned old corps, and the oftener the more heartily welcome.
An application was made at this time, by the Masonic body in Graham's Town, to have the remains of Lieut.-Colonel Fordyce, and Lieutenants Carey and Gordon, of the 74th Highlanders, interred there with suitable honours, the two former having been members of the fraternity. This was, of course, readily acceded to by the regiment, who were not only gratified by the request, but anxious themselves to show to the remains that respect which duty in the field had prevented so many from testifying at the first hurried interment. The bodies were therefore exhumed and placed in lead coffins, which we escorted for ten miles, to the top of the Blinkwater Pass. There we were relieved by two hundred of the 74th Highlanders, who escorted the remains to the entrance of Fort Beaufort, where they were met by Major-General Somerset and his Staff, accompanied by a guard of honour of the head-quarters, our own band, the Freemasons, and all the respectable people of the place. The coffins, which had been placed in the church for the night, were, on the following day, escorted by the same guard of honour to Graham's Town, where they were joined by a public procession of the Freemasons and principal inhabitants, and the remains of our brave comrades were consigned, with military and Masonic honours, to their final resting place.
A report arrived of a body of Rebels lurking in Engelbrecht's Kloof, and a company of the Rifle Brigade with three officers having joined us from their camp, we marched from Post Retief, at three in the afternoon (May 3rd), with a gun and about three hundred rank and file, the intention being to make a combined attack with the rest of the Rifles on the other side of the position. A strong party of mounted men followed at a couple of hours' interval.
Along the tortuous course of the Koonap, we had, in the space of twelve miles, to wade through it no less than seven times. Just after dark we halted at a ruined and solitary farm house. The sentinels were posted, and the men disposed amongst the ruins. We, after hunting about for ourselves, found an outhouse of wattle and daub, on which the thatch still remained. It was the work of a moment to make a broom of green boughs, sweep the mud floor, light a fire in the middle of the room, and arrange stones and boards to sit on; while the servants, as quickly unloading the pack-horses, produced our rations and grog, with tin plates, pewter spoons, and cutlery to match. By our united efforts the meal was soon ready; and though the coffee was as thick as soup, and the beef tough as leather, we gathered, a jovial party, round a table, extemporized out of an old bedstead; our rifles, pistols, dirks, and belts, hanging on the brightly illuminated walls, our own bush costume, and the rough clad servants, busied at the bright fire in the centre of the floor, produced quite a theatrical effect. A kettle full of hot grog having been duly concocted with Cape-smoke and freshly gathered limes, we drew round the blazing logs and lighted our pipes. Two old Dutch bedsteads, heavy wooden frames laced across with strips of cow hide, which had escaped the general destruction, were put in requisition for the night; but as they would only accommodate two each, and there were five of us, we tossed up who should be the "odd man out," and Legge was soon stretched asleep on the floor with a large stone under his head, though half-devoured by fleas, which by the way always infest a farm or kraal however long deserted.
At daylight the ground was white with hoar-frost, and the air bitter cold; as we were drinking our coffee by the fire a further reinforcement of mounted Burghers rode up. In the next four hours' marching we crossed eleven drifts, as on the day before, some very dangerous from the deep pools, and the difficulty of making sure footing as we jumped from one slippery rock to another. Many of the men fell on the rocks, or slipped into the water; one of the Rifle Brigade dislocated his knee, while half the horsemen were tumbled head over heels into the stream.
At nine o'clock, we came in sight of the other column on the hill in front of us. The scouts returned with information that the enemy had abandoned the kloof. Our patrol was in vain, and we had nothing to do but return. Joining the main column, we marched to Bear's farm, and remained there the night.
The road by which commissariat supplies had to be conveyed up to this elevated region had become so dangerous, and nearly impassable, that a working party was sent from the Blinkwater camp to repair it, and we marched on the 5th, with a company of Rifles and one gun, twelve miles to the head of the Blinkwater hill, to cover and assist them. Having planted the gun, and disposed our party on a height covering the road below, we lighted a fire, and were breakfasting, when, issuing from the edge of the forest, a long regular line, of what we took to be Kaffirs, was seen moving across a smooth open flat, about a mile off, and even after looking at them through the glass, we were so convinced in the correctness of our impression as to unlimber and point the gun; nor was it till after several seconds' earnest gaze that even the Fingoes, as well as ourselves, were fully satisfied that it was a large troop of baboons of immense size, so thoroughly human-like were their attitudes, sitting, standing, and walking—"erectos ad sidera tollere vultus."
We had with us a waggon containing pickaxes, spades, and hatchets, to take our tour at repairing the road, and went heartily to work, cutting down trees, and filling up the immense deep ruts with felled timber, stones, rocks, and earth. At three o'clock, a bugle, from the covering-party on the heights above summoned us from our labours, and we retraced the weary way back to the Post, having accomplished twenty-six miles of marching besides the day's work.