The Final Operations in the Matopos 6th August to 10th August Patrol to the Back of Umlugulu’s Stronghold—We toy with the Enemy—Capture their Cattle—Reconnaissance in the Matopos—Night March—Do not speak to the Man at the Wheel—Delays in a Night March—The Penalty of Non–Alertness in a Piquet—Mnyakavula’s Stronghold—More of Umlugulu’s Cattle captured—Duels with the Enemy—Enemy serenade us in Camp—A chilly Night—Hints to young Leaders. 6th August.—It is a sad shock to sit in one’s little mess of half a dozen comrades once more, and to find two of them are missing from the meal. Poor Kershaw and Hervey! Now and then one is on the point of calling to the usual sleeping–place of one or other of them to bid him come and eat, when suddenly the grim, cold recollection strikes you—“He is yonder—dead.” Poor Hervey took his mortal wound as though it were but a cut finger, yet knowing that he was fast passing away. Now and then he sent for those Poor chap, this was his first fight. He had been the paymaster to the forces, and had asked me to get him some appointment in the field. When he joined us in camp, I could not for the moment find a billet for him, till it occurred to me that there was a small company of men who had come up from Kimberley without an officer. They were so deficient in belts and bayonet scabbards that they always went with bayonets “fixed,” and had thus gained for themselves the nickname of “The Forlorn Hope.” On suggesting “The Forlorn Hope” to Hervey, he was delighted, and it was at their head he so gallantly met his death. His death is to me like the snatching away of a pleasing book half read. And Kershaw was the very type of a cool, brave, energetic officer. His loss to our little force is irreparable. Colonel Plumer sent me to–day in command of a patrol of a hundred mounted men, to go round by a new way to the back of the position occupied by Umlugulu; to burn kraals, etc.; to ascertain whether the rebels were still there, and if From my look–out place I could see a gorge leading into the mountains at the back of Umlugulu’s stronghold; I accordingly mounted the men, and proceeded warily, under cover of the bush, to this valley. On arriving near the entrance of it, two or three of us dismounted, and Suddenly De Moleyns, who had been scouting farther along the range, came galloping in, to tell us that a herd of cattle were being driven in from the plains towards the mountain at racing pace. Leaving one troop to keep the attention of the enemy engaged in the valley, I made a dash with the remainder of the squadron to intercept the cattle. Such a yelling from the women on the hill–tops, and counter–yelling from the men in charge of the cattle! For some little time we could not see the cattle, owing to the thickness of the bush, and fearing lest it might only be a ruse to draw us on, I kept part of the squadron back as a reserve; but this yelling of the ladies persuaded This loss of their cattle had evidently violently enraged the rebels, and they ran along the heights parallel to our march, calling us all sorts of names and yelling dire threats. This practice of shouting defiance and insult is very common with the Kaffirs; but their wit is not, as a rule, of a brilliant order, and we can generally produce something better on our side, which effectually silences the enemy. One remark which never fails to make them squirm, and which we therefore generally reserve for a telling “last word,” is the following pertinent question:—“Why are your crops not sown yet? Are your prospects of a harvest very gaudy, now that you are living shut up among the rocks like ‘dassies’ (rock–rabbits), To–day, again, the enemy recognised me individually, and saluted me with threats, yelling my name, “Impeesa,” with savage intensity. As we should have to traverse a somewhat dangerous path before we could arrive at our camp,—the same pass, in fact, in which Brand had been attacked, and so nearly done for,—I sent on a message to Plumer, asking for a few men to be sent there to cover our passage through it. Meantime, as we went along, we destroyed seven of the enemy’s kraals, and added to the picture by burning much of the long grass en route. Although the enemy gathered in some numbers about the pass, having seen that we were reinforced, they did not venture to attack us, and we got back into camp all safely with our loot shortly after dark. The cattle formed a very welcome addition to our commissariat. 8th August.—I was sent to find a good road by which the column could gain a commanding central position among the strongholds of the enemy. I had with me Captain Coope and several of his scouts. We made our way by various tracks and gorges to a koppie near to where Captain Beresford had his fight on the That night reveillÉ was whispered at 11.30. It was a curious time for reveillÉ, and utterly puzzled our cook; we had supped at seven, and it was not time for morning coffee; however, Rose (Rose was not a clean white–capped and aproned maid, but a horny–handed pioneer) was equal to the occasion, and hatched us out some bovril in a pile of embers (for no fires were allowed). Taking with us two days’ rations, we moved off silently, on foot for the most part, only the scouts taking their horses, and these, for the present, I was finding my way chiefly by the stars, and, during the first part of the march, by our old spoor. But now and again men would come up to advise me, with the comforting assurance that we were going wrong, and would endeavour to put me on the right line,—one, indeed, had his advice prevailed, would have taken us directly into a camp of the enemy. Nothing is more distracting than such interruption, and nothing is more calculated to make one really lose one’s bearings. The maxim, “Do not speak to the man at the wheel,” should ever be borne in mind, and acted up to, by those with a column who think they know better than the guide. If they think that he is going wrong, they should hold their tongues, but should also note every mark by which they may find their way back on to the But no interference with him should be allowed by word or move. This applies equally by day as by night. Over and over again I have found myself confused or harassed by amateur scouts and guides crowding on to one, and sometimes even going ahead, talking and joking, not the least recognising the state of mind of the man responsible for the direction of the column. However, we got along all right, over villainous ground; but the way was not hard to find, because I had merely to follow our own spoor of the morning, and this I did by feeling it through my thin–soled shoes, rather than by finding it with my eyes, for which the night was very dark. The column came along in the following order: first, Coope’s troop of scouts, then a squadron of the armed police, the corps of Cape Boys, the screw–guns on mules, four squadrons of Plumer’s corps, followed by the led horses of the scouts and the rearguard. The pace, as is always the case in a night march, was exceedingly slow; every small stream, or ridge of rocks, or piece of tangled bush caused long delays, and the head of the column had The difficulties of keeping up connection were increased by our having to maintain absolute silence, and not showing lights of any description. At length, after struggling on through thorny bush and over broken, hilly ground for six hours, we found ourselves, an hour before dawn, at the foot of the ridge which commands this part of the Matopos. Here we rested a while, hoping that the horses might rejoin us. I was but lightly equipped for this night march,—a flannel shirt and breeches well–ventilated by wear and tear; as long as we were moving, I was all the better for it, but when it came to lying about in the chill of the early morning, I began to feel the cold, and as I lay in the long grass, I wrapped it round me to form a kind of blanket. As the dawn came on, we proceeded to ascend the ridge by the narrow path along the face of the cliff, which my party had taken in the fight of the 5th. We approached the top with all precaution, and surrounded the spot where we expected to find the Cape Boy and his piquet, but to our regret we found they were not there; this evidently was their post by day, whereas their night quarters were somewhere farther back. And shortly afterwards we found them. There was a lively ten minutes between From our position on the top of the ridge we had a splendid view of jumbled mountain–tops and rocky, bush–grown gorges stretching in every direction,—a brutal country for military operations, but a splendid one from a rebel’s point of view. The ridge itself forms a kind of backbone or watershed through the mountains, and is passable throughout its length for troops and mule–guns. Passing round the scene of the fight of the 5th, we came to the mountain which formed Mnyakavula’s stronghold, a place covered with huts among the bush and boulders, and evidently full of caves. It was practically deserted, but still one or two niggers were to be seen about, so we fired a few shells into it to show there was no ill–feeling, and then sent some Cape Boys to examine it and to destroy the kraal. In going over it we found innumerable fresh blood–stains about the rocks, showing where wounded men had been brought in, and in two of the caves we found a number of dead bodies,—all showing how Here we halted for breakfast, each of us boiling our own “billy,” but having to share our eatables to a certain extent with those unfortunates whose horses had been lost during the night. Then we pushed on again towards Umlugulu’s stronghold, the same which we had reconnoitred from the rear the day before yesterday. Here we hoped to find some enemy, because this impi was one which took no real part in the fight of the 5th, and had therefore not been broken up by us. As we approached the place, we could see numbers of men gathering both on the right and on the left of our mountain; dogs were barking to the left, and women yelling. The guns were quickly unlimbered, and were soon sending their shells crashing into the gullies of the opposite mountain. A futile fire was returned, the distance was too great, and presently the enemy could be seen creeping away by twos and threes to safer and more distant retreats. Once more my telescope did me a good turn. I saw a very suspicious–looking stone deep down in the canyon below us. I aimed the glass for it, and my heart jumped when I saw it was what I had hoped for, a cow looking out of a hole in the rocks. I could then see that there were others in the cave behind it, and, sending down a party of Cape Boys, they soon were in possession of a herd of thirty head. Shelling the Enemy out of the Matopos The artillery gun is called by English–speaking natives “the By–and–by,” because after it has been fired there is a pause, and “by and by” the shell arrives at its target. The 7–pounder mountain gun has proved most useful from its portability and accuracy. Then I went on with three others to find a fresh position for the guns, and to reconnoitre a neighbouring valley. We found a place for the guns, and sat there admiring the view, while De Moleyns went off about two hundred yards from us to find a way down between the rocks into the valley. We saw him coming back towards us, and just as he got within fifty yards, there was a yell, two shots, and De Moleyns, hatless, came galloping in like mad. Some half a dozen Matabele were stalking up to us among the rocks; he had come unexpectedly among them, and they had missed him at about ten yards. We banged away at where we saw their smoke, and they replied, but very soon their firing ceased, and we saw them streaking away over the next hill. We then went to have a look at this valley, and while studying the far side with our glasses, we saw a number of Matabele creeping down to lie for us among the rocks. A very pretty sight they were, lithe and active, bounding down from rock to rock, their dark skins shining in the setting sun and showing off their white war–ornaments. But we did not We took a circuit round and burnt a hut or two, and then went down to the water in a bog about four hundred yards from the camp; here we watered and grazed our horses, bathed ourselves, filled up our billies, and cut a lot of grass to make our beds with on the hard rock platform that was to form our bivouac for the night. Suddenly our peaceful operations were interrupted by first one shot and then another fired up at the camp. These shots were soon followed by a more regular rattle of musketry, then came volleys in which the jolly Maxims joined, and finally the solid bang of the 7–pounders swelled the chorus. We were missing all the fun; we soon got mounted, gathered up What I call a camp is hardly what the ordinary mind would picture: there are, of course, no tents or other such luxuries; the force is merely formed in an extended square with guns and Maxims at each of the corners, and where each man happens to stand in the ranks, there is his place to cook his food, to eat, and to spread his blanket for the night. The spot we were camped on was a huge, open, flat rock, closely approached on three sides by broken rocks and bush, and in this broken ground a small but daring party of the enemy had crept up and were endeavouring to exact satisfaction for the loss of their cattle. It was curious to see how calmly the men in the square took it all; only that side of the square on which the enemy appeared bothered themselves to notice him, the other three sides went on with their cooking and suppers just as if the bullets whizzing over their heads were swallows flying through the air at sunset. After five or ten minutes the enemy retired and the firing died away. Half an hour later, just after dark, it suddenly broke out again; the enemy had crept up once more within fifty yards, and were firing at our fires. They seemed to become accustomed to the fire of the Maxims, but when we let them have it A Comfortable Corner on an Uncomfortable Evening When the enemy opened fire on our camp in the evening, it was very refreshing to see how quietly the men took it. Only those belonging to the face of the square that was being fired at took any practical notice of it. The remainder went on cooking and eating as if nothing were happening. This was not quite the last we had of them that 10th August.—We hoped to be attacked at daybreak, but it never came, and as we marched back during the day, we never saw another nigger. They had cleared out altogether, and we got back to our standing camp outside the hills about midday. And then I rode thirty miles into Buluwayo during the night, in order to report to the General that the enemy in the Matopos were now completely broken up, and probably willing to surrender if we gave them a chance. 12th August.—Instead of starting for grouse–shooting or any other form of shooting, I am, on the contrary, settling down to office work to–day, but I find it more irksome than usual, as I have a slight “If you want to catch the niggers, you will have to move more quickly and more secretly, that is, by night. It is no time now to save horses, but to make use of their condition; do not think that because you cannot see an enemy, there is no enemy there. We had our laager fired into three times the other night when there was not an enemy to be seen, so take care that your laager is guarded, and do not leave it to chance. If you let the men smoke on a night march, you might as well let the band play too.” |