ANOTHER COMBINED ATTACK—SMALL RESULTS—CAPTURE OF MUNDELL’S PEAK—THANKED A SECOND TIME IN GENERAL ORDERS—EXAMPLE OF TENACITY OF LIFE—BUILDING FORTS—THE DESCENT INTO THE WATER-KLOOF—REPROACHES—DISREGARDED ADVICE—AN ATTACK AND THE CONSEQUENCES—IN DANGER AND UNABLE TO PROCURE ASSISTANCE—RELIEVED FROM ALL INTERFERENCE BY OTHER COMMANDING OFFICERS—RECEIVE WRITTEN THANKS OF GENERAL COMMANDING—RECEIVE ADDITIONAL COMMAND OF NEW COMPANY OF FINGOES—I ASSERT MY RIGHT OVER PRISONERS—JOHNY FINGO—A SKIRMISH—SAVAGE INDIFFERENCE TO PHYSICAL PAIN—NIGHT FIGHTING—TREACHERY.
Another attack on a still grander scale than the last was now decided on at headquarters; and the Commander-in-chief, General Cathcart, with several thousand troops, guns, &c., were accordingly assembled on the heights overlooking the kloof. It was, however, a somewhat tame affair. We merely marched round the heights, and only attacked a small Kaffir village on the edge of a promontory, called Mundell’s Peak, that advanced like a wedge into the middle of the above-named kloof and almost divided it in two.
This operation fell to my share, and was, I think, effectually done in fair military style. In the general orders issued relating to the events of the day, it stated:—
“In the attack and carrying of Mundell’s Peak, the gallantry and spirited conduct of Lakeman’s corps and its commander, it is gratifying to the Commander of the Forces to take this opportunity to notice.
(Signed) “A. J. CloËte,
Quartermaster-General.”
During this day I observed a tenacity of life which seemed incredible. A soldier of the Rifle Brigade, in looking over the edge of the kloof, was shot through the head. I was on horseback close to him at the time; I dismounted, propped him up with his pack, picked up the cap which had been knocked off by the shot, and placed it with my handkerchief over his face. The body was shortly afterwards put on a stretcher and taken to Post Reteif, several miles off, then commanded by Captain Bruce (King Bruce they called him), a gallant and hospitable soldier. On the evening of the same day I saw the man there, still breathing, with a hole in his head through which you might have passed a ramrod, and he only died towards the next morning.
After this imposing parade of troops, the main force marched back again to Fort Beaufort; but the Commander-in-chief decided that two forts were to be constructed on the heights, about a mile to the rear of where I was stationed. Colonel ——, R. E., was intrusted with the building of the same; and he placed them in such a curious fashion that they could not be defended without firing into one another—that is to say, the enemy, had he wished it, might have quietly encamped between the two and defied either to fire a shot. I pointed out this fact to the gallant colonel; but he assured me he had taken into consideration that the Kaffirs had not sufficient sense to discover this undoubted weakness in his plan.
The heights having thus become free, I next proceeded to feel the way down into the Water-kloof itself. There was no greater difficulty in this than in what I had already done; in short, the Kaffirs had got such a wholesome dread of my corps, that the trouble was to get near them. Before a month had elapsed in this sort of work, I had traversed the kloof from one end to the other; and the few sable gentlemen who still held to this home of theirs had taken refuge on the rocks on the opposite ridge, or what we used to call the Dead Man’s Home, owing to the bones of some of our men remaining unburied there. One morning, in returning from an expedition in the Water-kloof, where I had captured the few remaining cattle left to the enemy, Brigadier-General N——t, who commanded the defenceless forts constructed by Colonel ——, sent for me; and at his request I gave all the information I possessed concerning the Water-kloof, stating, among other matters, what I had done on the previous night. He said he was afraid I was doing more harm than good by this night work; it was an irregular and unmilitary mode of proceeding; that he had thought the matter over, and intended to clear the place out that day in a really effectual manner.
I warned him that the enemy was driven to desperation, and capable of mad freaks of revenge that would certainly entail serious loss if attacked during the day; and as a proof of their present state, they had that morning followed me almost into camp, and once or twice I felt convinced by their bearing they were half inclined to attack it. Now, if left to themselves for a few days longer, half starved and discouraged, they would probably leave of their own accord that part of the country. The General, however, pooh-poohed my reasoning, and shortly afterwards marched out with all his forces, composed of the 60th Rifles, the 74th, the 91st, a battery of artillery, rocket-tubes, &c.—in fact, a most formidable body of men, and equal, if properly handled, to beat easily the same number of the best troops in Europe. They proceeded towards Mundell’s Peak, and I went to lie down as was my wont after passing a night out.
In the afternoon I was awakened by the sound of big guns and heavy musketry close at hand. On looking out, I saw, about a mile off, in the open, General N——t engaged with the enemy. I could easily make out that he was somewhat severely pressed, so calling for men to follow me, I made as quickly as I could to the front. I met on the way Captain S——n of the Rifles, with a party of men, axes in hand, falling back to the rear. Captain S——n cried out that I had better look to myself. He himself had been told off to cut a road into the kloof, but they had been driven back, and N——t was beaten. I, however, still went on; and gathering as I went some of the men who were retreating, came up to the line of fire, and faced the pursuing Kaffirs. When I had a sufficient number in hand to give an impetus to the movement, with a rattling cheer we went at the Kaffirs, who at once fell back, and eventually we pursued them almost to Mundell’s Peak. Here our real difficulties began. I had to return to the camp, but there were no supports to fall back upon; for none of the regulars, except those with me, had followed my onward movement. To increase the difficulties, there were several wounded to carry and no stretchers to lay them on. In this dilemma I sent Lieutenant H——d to ask General N——t for the required support. He did not return. I then sent Sergeant Herridge, who, after great delay, owing to the difficulty in finding the General, whom he at length discovered breakfasting, returned with the message that he had no time nor men to spare, and I must return the best way I could. Thank God, we did get back, but had a narrow squeak for it. On the first movement I made to retire, the Kaffirs hurried to our left flank, near the edge of the kloof, to cut us off. I followed in the same direction, and that so closely that I drove the greater part of them over it; and so that effort of theirs became fruitless. While doing this others had run forward on my right flank, which was out in the open; but here also the Minie rifle did its task right well, and beat them back. Thus alternately struggling on both flanks, I got at last to some rocks about a mile from the camp. Here I halted until Lieutenant H——d, whom I now saw approaching with the men (who had, on my sudden departure, been left behind), came and relieved me of all further fears. It was now, on questioning Lieutenant H——d as to his delay—questions which were not very audible, owing to the firing still going on—that he interpreted some words amiss, and the next day, much to my regret, resigned. After some still further delay, owing to the desperate attempts the Kaffirs made to turn our position, we eventually returned safely to camp, bringing all our wounded with us. After this affair I did not conceal my opinion of General N——t’s conduct towards me that day; and D——e, a fine young fellow of the 74th (the “British bull-dog” they called him), thought it incumbent upon himself to ask for an explanation on the part of the regulars. This, R——y of the Artillery—a thorough officer and gentleman, be it said—kindly gave him for me. He appeared satisfied, and thus the matter ended. In the report I made of this affair, I stated matters as they virtually occurred; and a few days after, an order arrived in camp from headquarters, stating that no officer of any rank whatever was to interfere with my movements, but, on the contrary, to give me whatever help I asked for; and Colonel S——t, secretary to the Commander-in-chief, sent me the following, enclosed with a kind letter:—
“To Captain Lakeman.
“Fort Beaufort, Aug. 31, 1852.
“Sir,—Having submitted your report of the 29th inst., I am directed to convey to you, by desire of the Commander of the Forces, his Excellency’s satisfaction with the constant activity and military energy you have displayed since you have been engaged in the operations in the vicinity of the Water-kloof.
(Signed) “A. J. CloËte,
Quartermaster-General.”
A native levy of Fingoes was now adjoined to my command. This strengthened my position considerably; but what gave me an absolute power over the native population of the district was an event which occurred concerning some Kaffir prisoners in my camp. It happened thus: While out coursing one day, a short distance from my quarters, I saw a considerable stir there going on, and ultimately a string of men went from thence to a by-path on the ridge of the hill, which led down towards Blinkwater Post. It was evidently an escort of prisoners, and I was greatly exercised by the thought of where these came from, knowing that there were none excepting those in my camp, with whom no one had the right to interfere. I sent a man on horseback to inquire into the matter. He came back and reported that they were the very prisoners in question, and that they were being removed by General N——t’s orders to Fort Beaufort. I galloped immediately back, and told the officer in command of the escort that he could not proceed: these prisoners were mine, and had been taken in an engagement in which none but my own men had been employed. They were also necessary to me for the information they could give as to the whereabouts of the rest of the tribe. After a long and painful interview of more than an hour, the prisoners were taken back to my camp, escorted by my own men. The Fingoes in my new levy, after this act of mine, used to call me “Government,” from, I was told, the fact of their always hearing this word spoken of in relation to her Majesty’s proclamations in the colony, which always began with, “Whereas her Majesty’s Government.” But let the fact be as it may, from that day they were implicit followers of mine.
Johnny Fingo, their chief, was a tall, powerful fellow, who spoke Kaffir perfectly well; and passing himself off as such, used to make excursions among the tribes in revolt, and bring me back most useful information. One day, however, as if to punish me for my hardly just and certainly arrogant act in taking back the prisoners as above related, he led me into a painfully false position. He reported having found out, some seven miles on the other side of Post Reteif, the encampment of the Kaffirs that my night attacks had driven out of the Water-kloof. I proceeded with him and a small escort to the place indicated—a deep kloof in the mountains—and certainly saw a large number of fires therein. On returning we fell in with a small outpost of the enemy, consisting of five men, who were crowded together in a rude hut, dividing among themselves some womanly apparel, evidently the fruits of plunder. Johnny Fingo, in his haste to shoot these poor devils, whom we had stealthily crept upon (having seen their camp-fire a long way off), forgot to put a cap on his rifle, and as the gun only snapped fire as he pulled the trigger, some three or four feet from the head of one of the disputing marauders, he received in return a lunge from an assegai through his thigh. The rest jumped suddenly up, and an indiscriminate mÊlÉe took place. Poor Dix received a fearful crack on the skull from a knobkerrie (he was never perfectly right afterwards); Johnny Fingo got another stab in the legs, and, what affected him still more, his beautiful “Westley-Richards” double-barrelled rifle, which he had obtained Heaven knows how, was irretrievably damaged. His younger brother, a smart lad, had his windpipe nearly torn out by a Kaffir’s teeth. In short, they fought tooth and nail, like so many wild beasts. It was only after we had been all more or less scarred, that two of the five were taken prisoners, the other three not giving in till killed.
I here had an opportunity of observing the utter indifference to physical pain which the black man exhibits. Johnny, although badly wounded and unable to stand, was bemoaning his broken rifle as it lay across his knees; and while I was bandaging his brother’s horribly-lacerated throat, he repeatedly asked me as to the possibility of getting the indented barrels of his rifle rebent to their original shape.
On our return to the camp I immediately set about the preparations for what I considered would be a rather hazardous undertaking—namely, to drive out the Kaffirs from the kloof in which I had lately seen them.
Anxious also to renew my relations with the regulars, after my late mal entendu concerning the disposal of prisoners, I proposed a joint expedition, which was eagerly accepted by Colonel H——d of the Rifle Brigade. Four days afterwards we proceeded to the spot in question, and not a Kaffir was to be seen, and even their traces had been carefully obliterated. I never was more mortified in my life; it looked to me as though I had been attempting something even worse than a stupid practical joke. Colonel H——d was, however, excessively considerate in the matter, and affected to be perfectly satisfied—although but the very faintest marks of the enemy’s passage could be discovered.
The country being now perfectly free for many miles around, I made long patrols to distant parts, coming at times in contact with small parties of the enemy, but too disheartened to make a stand. One night, in returning after a rather longer absence than usual, I found a somewhat large number of Kaffirs assembled in the abandoned village on Mundell’s Peak. I may here mention that, as I always marched the men by night and reposed them by day, many rencontres of this sort occurred—that is to say, that after pursuing the foe for several days, we were often confronted in a manner as surprising to the one as to the other. I placed the men in a straight line from one edge of the peak to the other, ordering them to lie down, and await daylight before opening fire. Stretching myself on the ground, just in front of Sergeant Shelley, I gave, at the break of day, the order to fire; when, directly afterwards, poor Shelley struggled to his feet, and fell back again, groaning fearfully. He was shot through the heels. The ball that effected this came down the line, and evidently from one of our own men—for on either flank there were sudden dips of several hundred feet, which rendered it impossible for a shot from the foe to come from thence.
This cowardly shot, which had been aimed at my own head, the men declared came from Waine. He, however, denied it so stoutly, and no one having seen him actually fire in our direction, I took no overt steps in the matter as to bringing him up for it; but I determined never to take him out again for night service. And on after-thoughts I recollected several unaccountable shots that had passed by me during our nocturnal expeditions; and although I sincerely pitied poor Shelley, I could not help feeling thankful that through the misfortune to him I had got rid of Waine. Shelley eventually recovered sufficiently to go with me to the Crimea, where he died.
The end of Waine was like a judgment upon him, as I shall now attempt to describe. Always left in camp, it was his task to clean the firelocks when the men returned after night expeditions. This he had to do whether any firing took place or not, as the heavy dews rendered the cartridges unreliable for further use if left in the guns. On one occasion a man gave him his firelock to clean, telling him it merely wanted wiping out, as it was unloaded. Waine did this, but could not clear the nipple, and after several attempts he took the weapon back to his owner, telling him of the fact. A cap was then put on, and Waine, holding out his hand, told him to fire, and see for himself. The man pulled the trigger, the gun exploded and blew Waine’s hand to pieces. It appeared that, unwittingly, it had been left loaded. Waine was removed, and shortly afterwards died of lock-jaw.
