NOZIAH AT BLAKEWAY’S FARM—BECOMES A FAVOURITE WITH THE MEN—WISHES TO RECONCILE ME TO HER BROTHER SANDILLI—EXPEDITION SENT OUT TO FIND SANDILLI AND ARRANGE FOR AN INTERVIEW—RETURNS AFTER TWENTY-THREE DAYS’ ABSENCE—I GO WITH NOZIAH TO MEET HER BROTHER—SANDILLI’S WAR-COUNCIL—ANGRY RECEPTION—I OBTAIN A HEARING—SANDILLI’S REPLY—OFFERS TO MEET GENERAL CATHCART AND MAKE AN EXPLANATION TO HIM—DEMORALISING EFFECT OF EXPOSING LIFE IN FIGHTING.

Meanwhile Noziah had made herself very comfortable at Blakeway’s Farm, and had picked up enough Dutch and English words to make her wishes known to me on most subjects. There was a certain charm about the dusky maiden, who possessed all the subtle graces of her tribe. She soon became the presiding deity of our camp. To her all appealed in time of sickness or want; none could refuse a request that came from her lips, and none was more willing than myself to submit to her winning guidance. I thought thereby I was acknowledging the influence of a power best calculated to bring all races under British sway. As our intimacy increased, she became possessed of the fixed desire to make me the friend of her brother Sandilli. She was so persistent and persuading in this matter that I finally arranged that a party under the guidance of Johnny Fingo should proceed to that chief’s quarter, and that Noziah should be my delegate on this embassy, to arrange an interview between her brother and me.

This was not exactly in keeping with the etiquette that prevails between belligerents, and I have no doubt that legal authority could easily prove I was in the wrong. But General Cathcart was in Basutoland, and his last words before leaving had been an injunction to keep matters quiet round the Water-kloof in any way I thought most advisable.

This left me a wide margin, which I used in sending the above-named party out in an unknown direction and with a somewhat visionary object in view; for, after all, no one knew where Sandilli was, or the mood in which he might be, if found at all. So, half hesitatingly, I sent them on their way. Dix, who was a passionate admirer of the gentle sex, of all shades and shapes (always excepting his frail better-half at Cape Town), had become a devoted follower of one of Noziah’s attendants, and was to have been leader of the band; his heart, however, failed him at the last moment, and he contented himself with a passionate embrace of this his latest flame, vowing, in high Kaffir-Dutch, that time or distance could never extinguish the fire that burnt in his breast.

Johnny Fingo was thus left in full command. He had heard that Sandilli lay somewhere concealed in the Ama Ponda Mountains, behind Fort Alice. In that direction they accordingly wended their way; and after an absence of three-and-twenty days, Noziah returned with the news that Sandilli was in the Water-kloof, not six miles off, and there awaited my coming.

Her eagerness for our interview seemed so catching, and she had such fears that her brother might decamp once more—she knew not where—that I determined to carry out her wishes immediately. I had unbounded confidence in her loyalty to me; but I had not, by any means, the same reliance on the good faith of her brother, who bore a character for fierceness and treachery by no means reassuring. However, accompanied by her, an attendant, and Dix, I started for the interview, which it was intended should take place in the rocks so often mentioned before as the Blacksmith’s Shop, and which had formed so prominent a feature in General Cathcart’s description of clearing out the Water-kloof.

I left Johnny Fingo in the camp. Something in his demeanour since his return, and in his manner of relating what had happened during the expedition, appeared to me suspicious. He was like a big black snake whose poisoned fangs I knew that I had extracted at one time, but I was not sure as to whether or not they had grown to be dangerous again during his late absence; at all events, I thought him safer at home than with me.

It was late at night when we arrived on the heights above the kloof, so I determined, after stumbling about over rocks and monkey-rope creepers for some time, to encamp where we were for the night. A most merciful dispensation of Providence it was that we did so; for not ten yards farther on we should have fallen over a perpendicular cliff several hundred feet to the bottom. In fact, we slept on the brink of a rapid slope, not ten yards in length, that led to this fearful death.

The next morning early we arrived near the rocks we were in search of; and halting in a tolerably open space, I sent on Noziah to warn her brother of our arrival. It was rather an anxious moment. I could see by the smoke still wreathing about several still-smouldering fires, that more than one party lay concealed somewhere near those huge black rocks. But whether a volley of musketry or friendly Kaffirs were to issue from them, I felt by the thumping of my heart that the question was being sharply debated within. However, my anxious doubting was soon over; for Noziah came back, accompanied by a tall, limping figure, who gravely held out his hand to me.

I was anxious to be on friendly terms with this man. Noziah’s brother was an interesting being to me. Her courage, handsome person, and devotedness were making rapid strides into my affections; and notwithstanding that Sandilli was far from a desirable-looking acquaintance, I strove by the hearty grasp I gave him to prove how anxious I was to become better acquainted.

We now proceeded to the rocks, Dix bringing up the rear, with orders from me to shoot the first person who committed an act of open treachery. There were here about twenty Kaffirs. We were soon seated on the ground—Sandilli, Noziah, and myself, the centre of a circle which these men formed about us. Dix was stationed outside the circle, gun in hand. The difficulties of entering into good-fellowship with Sandilli now became apparent; for notwithstanding the beseeching looks of Noziah, he remained dumbly staring at me in the rudest manner, and I could see nothing but suppressed rage written on his ugly countenance. The other members of his council—mostly old men, who remained squatted on their hands like savage grizzly bears—looked askance at me with their bloodshot eyes, as though they would like nothing better than pulling me to pieces. Feeling thus too disagreeably scrutinised, I told Dix to point his gun, as if by accident, somewhere near Sandilli’s head. This movement considerably smoothed down the very distorted features of that dark gentleman. He said something in Kaffir to Noziah, pointing to Dix, and I told the latter to move his firelock a little on one side.

After this mute episode snuff was passed round, and the conversation opened. I explained in Dutch that I had been led to this interview with the hope of stopping further shedding of blood; that the late engagements between my men and the Kaffirs had been more like the slaughtering of cattle than an honest struggle between man and man; they (the Kaffirs) had no ammunition, and very few guns left; it was worse than madness to suppose that a piece of stick, blessed by a witch-doctor, could drive, as they pretended, the English into the sea,—in fact, I argued that it was a duty for Sandilli, and well worthy his great influence, to order his blind followers not to sacrifice themselves any longer to such a senseless enterprise.

Sandilli replied in a curious mingling of Dutch, English, and Kaffir, of which Noziah acted as interpreter, that it was not he who had begun the war: years and years ago his father had to defend his kraal against General Maitland on the Sunday River, many long marches from where we then sat; that from that day to this several wars had occurred between his tribe and the English; but they were always brought on in the defence of their homes. In this manner they had been successively driven from one place to another, until there was nothing left for them but the hills. They were not hillmen, but wanted the pasture-lands in the plains from whence they had been driven, and which were now given to English farmers and cowardly Fingoes. He, for his part, was willing to make peace, because they could not fight against my men, who attacked them by night when they slept. During the day they were not afraid, as they had proved to Sir Harry Smith. He had been told that the Basutos had been beaten by General Cathcart: it was a good thing, because they were fools not to have come to his (Sandilli’s) help when he had nearly driven the English into the sea, where they came from. He added that, if Macomo was willing, they would go together and meet General Cathcart, and explain these matters to him, trusting that something like an equable arrangement might be made for those of his tribe who remained.

I promised to send on this proposal of his to General Cathcart; and it was, moreover, arranged that Noziah should remain in my camp to convey the General’s reply to Sandilli when received. Noziah also made her brother swear, over some piece of stick she held before him, that she should not be sacrificed for remaining with the English (she had often told me that that disagreeable fate awaited her). To this, after many a mysterious sign and token, he agreed, to my immense relief, and the party broke up. I had felt, to say the least of it, exceedingly uneasy during the somewhat lengthy interview. Noziah afterwards told me that one of the party had actually proposed that I should be bound and tortured to death, as a propitiation to their witch-doctors, for the spirits of those who had perished by my night attacks. It was, perhaps, the firelock of Dix, pointed towards Sandilli’s head, that prevented the carrying out of this Kaffir-like attention.

On returning to camp I found a small party of men who had been all night seeking us. They had caught a Kaffir, belonging probably to Sandilli’s party, seated near the spot where we had slept that night, and around which lay strewn remnants of a newspaper in which Dix had wrapped our late meal. They concluded from these shreds that we had been pitched over the cliff, and that these tokens of civilisation were all that remained of their captain, and, in revenge, they had hanged the poor devil on an adjoining tree.

It was really high time that the war should come to a speedy end. The knowledge that this end was close at hand had sadly relaxed discipline. The stirring events of war had left a craving for excitement not easily satisfied. Life had been so freely exposed, that it was looked upon as of very hazardous value. Men were ready to give or take it on the most trivial pretexts. I have seen a party of my own men firing at one another, at long distances, from behind rocks, merely to find out the range of their Minie rifles. At other times I have known them throw assegais at one another for the same purpose, and more than once inflict dangerous wounds.

I naturally had more difficulty in keeping my men in order than other officers experienced in that part of the colony. My men were a rougher lot, and had only enlisted for a war that they now considered finished: Lieut. H—— had resigned; Lieut. —— had been sent about his business; Lieut. P—— was often as riotous as the men; Lieut. C—— was too young and reckless to possess the tact and persistent energy necessary for the management of so unruly a set with security to himself or satisfaction to them.