AN EXPEDITION AND A CAMPAIGN
I.
THE ASHANTI EXPEDITION, 1895-6
Amongst the vast collection of relics, trophies, and curiosities which
Baden-Powell has housed at his mother's residence in London there is
one object at sight of which those who know its history may be forgiven
for feeling some slight qualms. It is a large brass basin, about five
feet in diameter, ornamented with four lions and with a number of round
knobs all round its rim. If the spirits of blood-lust, of unholiness,
and cruelty abide anywhere on earth, they ought to be found in this
bowl, which Baden-Powell found at Bantama when he went out with the
Ashanti Expedition of 1895-6, and which in its time had received the
blood of countless victims to the inordinate love of human sacrifice
which has distinguished the kings of the Ashanti empire for centuries.
It looks, that bowl, as innocent as an ordinary kitchen utensil as
it hangs in its place on the wall, surrounded by trophies of a more
fearsome nature, but not even the guillotine of the Reign of Terror
had seen and smelt more blood than had run over its rim to putrefy
in its depths and to be eventually turned, mixed with certain herbs,
into fetish medicines. To Baden-Powell, whenever he sees it--he has
had small chance of seeing it since he brought it back to England,
though!--it must needs recall many things in connection with that foul
corner of the earth into which he journeyed some five years ago in
order to assist in bringing a reign of bloodshed and violence to an
end.
[Illustration: SKETCH MAP of the MARCH TO KUMASSI _showing the Camping
Places_]
We are often told that we, as a nation, are much too ready to interfere
with the affairs of other folk, and there are candid people amongst us
who are not afraid of hinting that our interference is usually with
nations not quite so big and powerful as ourselves--that we are, in
short, something like the schoolboy bully who wants to fight, but only
with a boy several sizes smaller than himself. There were whisperings
and hintings of this sort when we sent out our Ashanti Expedition of
1895-6--but no nation, surely, ever had better reasons for undertaking
such an expedition. There were more reasons than one why it should be
undertaken, and every reason was a most potent one, but one towered
above all in its strength and urgency. Human life was being sacrificed
in Ashanti to an extent which civilized folk can scarcely comprehend.
The following extract from Baden-Powell's work on the Ashanti
Expedition of 1895-6 gives one some notion of what was going on in and
around Kumassi before the British Government stepped in:--
"Any great public function was seized on as an excuse for human
sacrifices. There was the annual 'yam custom,' or harvest festival, at
which large numbers of victims were often offered to the gods. Then
the king went every quarter to pay his devotions to the shades of his
ancestors at Bantama, and this demanded the deaths of twenty men over
the great bowl on each occasion. On the death of any great personage,
two of the household slaves were at once killed on the threshold of
the door, in order to attend their master immediately in his new life,
and his grave was afterwards lined with the bodies of more slaves who
were to form his retinue in the spirit world. It was thought all the
better if, during the burial, one of the attendant mourners could be
stunned by a club, and dropped, still breathing, into the grave before
it was filled in. In the case of a great lady dying, slave-girls
were the victims. This custom of sacrifice at funerals was called
'washing the grave.' On the death of a king the custom of washing the
grave involved enormous sacrifices. Then sacrifices were also made to
propitiate the gods when war was about to be entered upon, or other
trouble was impending. Victims were also killed to deter an enemy
from approaching the capital: sometimes they were impaled and set up
on the path, with their hand pointing to the enemy and bidding him to
retire. At other times the victim was beheaded and the head replaced
looking in the wrong direction; or he was buried alive in the pathway,
standing upright, with only his head above ground, to remain thus until
starvation, or--what was infinitely worse--the ants made an end of him.
Then there was a death penalty for the infraction of various laws. For
instance, anybody who found a nugget of gold and who did not send it at
once to the king was liable to decapitation; so also was anybody who
picked up anything of value lying on the parade-ground, or who sat down
in the shade of the fetish tree at Bantama. Indeed, if the king desired
an execution at any time, he did not look far for an excuse. It is
even said that on one occasion he preferred a richer colour in the red
stucco on the walls of the palace, and that for this purpose the blood
of four hundred virgins was used. I have purposely refrained elsewhere
from giving numbers, because, although our informants supplied them,
West African natives are notoriously inexact in this respect. The
victims of sacrifices were almost always slaves or prisoners of war.
Slaves were often sent in to the king in lieu of tribute from his
kinglets and chiefs, or as a fine for minor delinquencies. Travelling
traders of other tribes, too, were frequently called upon to pay
customs dues with a slave or two, and sometimes their own lives were
forfeited.
[Illustration: Human Sacrifice at Bantama.]
"When once a man had been selected and seized for execution, there
were only two ways by which he could evade it. One was to repeat the
'king's oath'--a certain formula of words--before they could gag him;
the other was to break loose from his captors and run as far as the
Bantama-Kumassi cross road; if he could reach this point before being
overtaken, he was allowed to go free. In order to ensure against their
prisoners getting off by either of these methods, the executioners used
to spring on the intended victim from behind, and while one bound his
hands behind his back, another drove a knife through both his cheeks,
which effectually prevented him from opening his mouth to speak, and
in this horrible condition he had to await his turn for execution.
When the time came, the executioners, mad with blood, would make a
rush for him and force him on to the bowl or stool, whichever served
as the block. Then one of them, using a large kind of butcher's knife,
would cut into the spine, and so carve the head off. As a rule, the
victims were killed without extra torture, but if the order was given
for an addition of this kind, the executioners vied with each other in
devising original and fiendish forms of suffering. At great executions
torture was apparently resorted to in order to please the spectators.
It certainly seems that the people had by frequent indulgence become
imbued with a kind of blood-lust, and that to them an execution was
as attractive an entertainment as is a bull-fight to a Spaniard or a
football match to an Englishman."
On November 14th, 1895, Baden-Powell received orders to proceed on
active service, and a month later he was at Cape Coast Castle, charged
with the onerous duties of getting the punitive force through from that
point to Kumassi. What a task it was that lay before him few people can
imagine. Between Cape Coast Castle and Kumassi the road was nothing but
a narrow pathway, leading for the greater part of its 150 miles through
primeval forest, dark, pestilential, and infested by the tsetse fly.
To plunge an army of white troops into such a district was to court
immediate trouble in the way of sickness, if not of death; accordingly
it was necessary that many things should be thought of, and thought of
with a thoroughness and care which the stay-at-home man can scarcely
conceive. The details relating to transport, commissariat, reserve
stores, engineering and telegraphic work, hospital provision, equipment
for making roads and building bridges, had all to be considered
and debated. Before he reached Cape Coast Castle, Baden-Powell had
considered them all, and had put his ideas about them on paper.
When he landed there innumerable difficulties lay before him, such
difficulties that, as he says, "One could sit down and laugh to tears
at the absurdity of the thing," but going on the old West Coast
proverb, "Softly, softly, catchee monkey," he gradually reduced chaos
into order, and at last found himself in command of "a jabbering,
laughing mob," whose only uniform was--a red fez! All the way to
Prahsu, seventy miles off, did Baden-Powell and his assistant, Captain
Graham, lead and drive this motley assemblage. There they handed over
to the Commissariat Department the loads they had brought up, and then
set to work with their levies at clearing the bush, making roads, and
doing general pioneer work. What sort of life he and Graham spent
at that time is shown in a characteristic passage of Baden-Powell's
diary:--
"At early dawn, while the hush of the thick white mist yet hangs above
the forest, a pyjama-clad figure creeps from its camp-bed in the
palm-leaf hut, and kicks up a sleeping drummer to sound 'Reveillé.'
Then the tall, dark forest wall around the clearing echoes with the
boom of the elephant-tusk horns, whose sound is all the more weird
since it comes from between the human jaws with which the horns are
decorated. The war-drums rumble out a kind of Morse rattle that is
quite understandable to its hearers. The men get up readily enough, but
it is merely in order to light their fires and to settle down to eat
plaintains, while the white chiefs take their tubs, quinine, and tea.
A further rattling of the drum for parade produces no result. The king
is called for. 'Why are your men not on parade?' With a deprecatory
smile the king explains that he is suffering from rheumatism in the
shoulder, and therefore he, and consequently his tribe, cannot march
to-day. He is given a Cockle's pill, and is warned that if he is not
ready to march in five minutes, he will be fined a shilling. (The
luxury of fining a real, live king to the extent of one shilling!) In
five minutes he returns and says that if the white officer will give
his men some salt to eat with their 'chop' (food), he thinks they will
be willing to march.
"The white officer grimly says he will get a little salt for them, and
proceeds to cut a specimen of a particularly lithe and whippy cane. A
hundred pair of eyes are watching him. They read his intention in a
moment, and at once there is a stir. A moment later, and _that_ portion
of the army are off in a long string upon the forward road, with their
goods and chattels and chop tied up in bundles on their heads.
"But the whole levy is as yet by no means under way. Here a whole
company of another tribe is still squatting, eating plantains, and
jabbering away, indifferent to every other sound. 'Call the chief.'
Yes, the chief is most willing to do anything; would march straight
on to Kumassi if ordered. But his captains are at present engaged in
talking over the situation, and he cannot well disturb them. The white
chief does not take long about disturbing them, but still the rank
and file don't move. The captains have something they would like to
communicate to the white chief. 'Well, out with it.'
"The head captain has come to the conclusion, from information
received, that the Ashantis are a most cowardly race.
"'Quite right. Just what I have told you all along; and if you will
only hurry up, we can get right up to them in a few days and smash
them.'
"'Ah! the white chief speaks brave words, but he does not know the ways
of the bush warriors. No; the plan which the captains in council have
agreed upon is to draw the enemy on by retiring straight away back to
Cape Coast Castle. The enemy will follow them, and will run on to the
bayonets of the white soldiers who are coming up from the coast.'
"'A very good plan, but not quite identical with that of the white
chief. There is only one plan in his mind, and that is to go forward,
and this plan must be carried out by all. He has in his hand a
repeating rifle which fires fourteen shots. When the regiment begins
its retirement, he will go to the head of it and will shoot at each man
as he comes by. Fourteen corpses will suffice to block up the path. And
now any who like to go back on these conditions can do so; the gun is
already loaded. Those who like to go forward to get their chop at the
next halting-place can move on. Those who like to sit where they are
can do so till it is their turn to be tied to a tree, to get a dozen
lashes, commencing with this gentleman.' Loads are taken up, and in a
moment the whole force goes laughing and singing on the forward path.
[Illustration: Portrait of King Prempeh.]
"On through the deep, dark aisles, still foggy with the morning mist
and wet with the dripping dew. Twisting and turning, now up, now down,
clambering over giant tree-roots or splashing through the sucking
mud--all in moist and breathless heat, till, tired and dripping, we
reach the next site for a camp. Two hours' rest for mid-day chop, and
then parade. More delays, more excuses, and at last every man has his
tool issued to him, and every company has its work assigned to it.
No. 1 to clear the bush. No. 2 to cut stockade posts. No. 3 to cut
palm-leaf wattle. No. 4 to dig stockade holes. No. 5 to mount sentries
and prevent men hiding in huts; and so on, till every one is at work.
We lay out the plan and trace of the fort that is to be built, and of
the huts that are to form the camp.
"'Hallo! where are the hole-diggers?'
"'They have retired to have some chop.'
"'Chop? they've only just finished two hours of chop.'
"'Yes--but the white chief works them so hard that they have big
appetites.'
"'They--and you, their chief--will all be fined a day's pay.'
"'Yes, well, the white man is powerful. Still, we prefer that to not
having our chop. Many thanks.'
"'Oh, but you'll have to work as well. See this little instrument?
That's a hunting-crop. Come, I'll show you how it can be used. I'll
begin on you, my friend!'
"No need to. They all fly to their work. Then you go round. Every
company in turn is found sitting down, or eye-serving.
"'Down with that tree, my lad--you with the felling-axe! Not know how
to use it?'
"For three days I felled trees myself, till I found that I could get
the tree felled equally well by merely showing the cracker of the
hunting-crop. The men had loved to see me work. The crop came to be
called 'Volapük,' because it was understood by every tribe. But, though
often shown, it was never used.
"The bush-clearing company are sitting down, not a yard of bush cut.
'Why?'
"'Oh, we are fishermen by occupation, and don't know anything about
bush-cutting.'
"The bush soon comes down nevertheless, and, what is more wonderful, by
sunset there is an open space of some seven or eight acres where this
morning there was nothing but a sea of bush jungle. Large palm thatched
sheds have sprung up in regular lines, and in the centre stands a
nearly finished fort, with its earth rampart bound up by stockade and
wattle. Within it are two huts, for hospital and storehouse. Trains
of carriers are already arriving with hundreds of boxes of beef and
biscuit to be checked, arranged, and stored. At sunset sounds the drum,
the treasure box and ledger are opened, and the command comes up for
pay.
"'First company--how many men present?'
"'Sixty-eight, sir.'
"'But it has only got fifty-nine on its establishment!'
"'Next company.'
"'All here, sir, but some few men away sick--and two he never
come'--and so on and so on. At last it is over, except that a
despatch-runner comes in with a telegram, forwarded from the last
telegraph station, to ask from Cape Coast Castle offices immediate
reason why the men's pay-list has been sent in in manuscript, instead
of on Army Form O 1729!"
From Prahsu the expedition, under the command of Sir Francis
Scott, went on its way towards Kumassi. Its formation when it came
near to that plague-spot of the earth was as follows:--First came
Baden-Powell's crowd of red-fezzed natives, keeping a variable distance
from the advanced guard, which consisted of two companies of the
Gold Coast Houssas and a Maxim gun. A quarter of a mile after that
came the main body, covering a distance of nine miles, and consisting
of Special Service Corps, two guns, a Maxim gun, the Headquarters
Staff, a half of the Bearer Company, six companies of the 2nd West
Yorkshire Regiment, two guns and two rockets, the other half of the
Bearer Company, the Ammunition Column, the Baggage Column, the Supply
Column, the Field Hospital, and, as rearguard, two more companies
of the 2nd West Yorkshire Regiment and the Lagos Houssas with a
Maxim. Flanking the latter portion of the main column on the right,
and distributed by half-sections, came one company of the 2nd West
India Regiment. It is evident from his diary that Baden-Powell wanted
some fighting--at Ordasu an embassy from King Prempeh offered that
bloodthirsty savage's complete and unconditional surrender to Captain
Stuart, Political Officer accompanying the column, and Baden-Powell
remarks, characteristically enough, "Alas! this looks like a peaceful
end of all our work," and a few days afterwards, recording the entrance
into Kumassi, he dwells rather bitterly on the disappointment which the
men felt in having no fighting. But the expedition was destined to be
a peaceful one--the British troops and native levies marched into the
city of death quietly enough. Baden-Powell and his assistant, Graham,
with their scouts, were in first, and with them were the Political
Officer and Major Piggott, who bore the Union Jack on a silver-mounted
hog-spear. Then came the native levies, then Major Gordon's flank
detachment, and finally the main body--and Prempeh and his chiefs sat
by and watched. Baden-Powell's account of the scene is full of life and
colour:--
[Illustration: King Prempeh watching the arrival of Troops.]
"The drumming in the town was getting louder, and the roar of voices
filled the air; but, alas! it was peace drumming. The great coloured
umbrellas were soon seen dancing and bobbing above the heads of the
surging crowds of natives. Stool-bearers ran before, then came the
whirling dancers with their yellow skirts flying round them. Great
drums, like beer-barrels, decked with human skulls, were booming
out their notes, and bands of elephant-tusk horns were adding to the
din. The king and all his chiefs were coming out to see the troops
arrive. Presently they arranged themselves in a dense long line. The
umbrellas formed a row of booths, beneath which the chiefs sat on their
brass-nailed chairs, with all their courtiers round them. This was nine
o'clock, and there they sat till five.
"Often had they sat like this before upon that same parade-ground; but
never had their sitting been without the sight of blood. The object of
this open space was not for parading troops, but for use as the theatre
of human sacrifice. Orders had been given before our arrival to clean
away all signs of this custom, nor were the people to speak of it to
the white men; but with very little cross-examination all the facts
came out. Indeed, while standing about the parade-ground, 'The Sutler'
peered into the coppice close by, where the trees supported a flock of
healthy-looking vultures, and there at once he found skulls and bones
of human dead.
"And there sits Prempeh, looking very bored, as three scarlet-clad
dwarfs dance before him, amid the dense crowd of sword-bearers, court
criers, fly-catchers, and other officials. He looks a regal figure as
he sits upon a lofty throne with a huge velvet umbrella standing over
him, upon his head a black and gold tiara, and on his neck and arms
large golden beads and nuggets."
It was all over with Prempeh. He and his chiefs heard the doom of the
nation pronounced, and found themselves prisoners, and within a very
short time of the arrival of the British punitive force at Kumassi it
was on its way back to Cape Coast Castle with the Ashanti monarch and
his queen-mother in custody of the 2nd West Yorkshire Regiment. It
is very evident that Baden-Powell was disappointed because there was
no fighting--disappointed, perhaps, more on account of the men than
on his own. In his journal, under date February 8th, 1896, he pays a
magnificent tribute to the British soldier's pluck and endurance:--
"CAPE COAST CASTLE, _February 8th, 1896_.
"The march up to Kumassi was a weary, toilsome business, even in spite
of the excitement and hope which buoyed the men up. What, then, can
one say of the march down, when the same long depressing road had to
be re-traversed by men whose spirits were now lowered by the deep
disappointment they had suffered, and whose systems were gradually
giving in to the attacks of the ever-present fever fiend? In truth,
that march down was in its way as fine an exhibition of British stamina
and pluck as any that has been seen of late years. For the casual
reader in England this is difficult to realize, but to one who has
himself wearily tramped that interminable path, heartsick and footsore,
the sight of those dogged British 'Tommies,' heavily accoutred as they
were, still defying fever in the sweltering heat, and ever pressing on,
was one which opened one's eyes and one's heart as well.
"There was no malingering _there_; each man went on until he dropped.
It showed more than any fight could have done, more than any investment
in a fort, or surprise in camp, what stern and sterling stuff our men
are made of, notwithstanding all that cavillers will say against our
modern army system and its soldiers.
"To one fine young fellow--who, though evidently gripped by fever,
still was doggedly marching on--I suggested that his kit was very
heavy, whereat he replied, with the tight drawn smile and quavering
voice one knows too well out here, 'It ain't the kit, sir! it's only
these extra rounds that I feel the weight of.' 'These extra rounds'
being those intended for the fight which never came. The never-ending
sameness of the forest was in itself sufficient to depress the most
light and cheerful mind, and thus it was a great relief at length to
get to Mansu, where the bush begins to open out, and where there is
more of the light and air of heaven. But the change is not altogether
for the better. The forest, it is true, is gone, but the road is open
to the sun, while the undergrowth on either hand is denser now than
ever, and forms a high, impenetrable hedge that seems to shut out
every breath of breeze. Acting on the experiences of the upward march,
this portion of the road was now traversed by the troops by night, and
consequently heat apoplexy and sunstroke were not encountered. But the
string of loaded hammocks grew longer every day!"
With the despatch of Prempeh and his mother into exile the Ashanti
Expedition practically came to an end, and Baden-Powell returned to
England, having done a vast amount of pioneering work, kept a full
journal, seen a king dance, made numerous sketches, and generally added
to his store of knowledge of men and things. The powers that be gave
him a brevet-lieutenant-colonelcy and a star for his pains, and then
sent him off to his regiment in Ireland to resume his usual avocations
of hard work and hard play.
[Illustration: Embarkation of King Prempeh.]
II.
THE MATABELE CAMPAIGN, 1896
On the afternoon of Friday, April 24th, 1896, Baden-Powell was in
Belfast, attending the funeral of one of the men of his squadron
who had been killed by a fall from his horse. During the ceremony a
telegram from General Sir Frederick Carrington was put into his hands,
warning him that he might be summoned to take part in the operations
against the rebellious Matabele. Close upon this came the official
notification from Sir Evelyn Wood, Quartermaster-General, directing
him to proceed to Southampton and to embark on the s.s. _Tantallon
Castle_ on May 2nd. By May 6th he was at Madeira, well on his way
to the beginning of the most important military affair he had yet
engaged in. At 4 a.m. on May 19th he woke to find the screw stopped,
the ship motionless, and to see "looming dark against the stars, the
long, flat top of grand old Table Mountain." He was once more in
South Africa--little dreaming, perhaps, of what lay before him in the
immediate future, or of what he was to do there ere another five years
had gone by.
[Illustration: SKETCH MAP of The Theatre of operations]
He found Cape Town "just the same as ever." A brief stay there,
a hearty God-speed from a crowd of well-remembered faces at the
station, and he was off for Mafeking. One wonders if he knew, if he
had any premonitions that almost exactly three years later he would
be bound for Mafeking again, charged to fight a much superior enemy
to the savage Matabele. He says nothing of that--all he records in
his journal of the first night in the train is that the beds were
hard and the night cold. He reached Mafeking on May 22nd. It then
consisted of a little corrugated tin house and goods shed, serving
as railway station, hundreds of waggons and mounds of stores, and
a street and market square also composed of tin houses. He found
Sir Frederick Carrington--to whom he was to act as Chief Staff
Officer--here, and with the other officers of his Staff took up his
quarters in a railway carriage. This, however, was to be but a short
stay in Mafeking; on May 23rd, he, General Carrington, Captain Vyvyan,
and Lieutenant Ferguson set off for Buluwayo by coach--"a regular
Buffalo-Bill-Wild-West-Deadwood affair, hung by huge leather springs on
a heavy, strongly-built under-carriage, drawn by ten mules." They were
ten days and nights in this vehicle, which laboured along at a slow
rate through the heavy sand, and rocked and pitched until Baden-Powell
described its motion as "exactly like being in the cabin of a small
yacht in bad weather," but at last they came to Buluwayo, and found
themselves in sight of war.
[Illustration: Mafeking to Buluwayo. Ten days and nights by coach.]
For some days Baden-Powell was busily engaged in office-work. Buluwayo
had been cleared of the rebellious Matabele, but the impis were still
hanging about in the neighbourhood, and in order to clear them away Sir
F. Carrington decided to despatch three strong columns simultaneously
to the north, north-east, and north-west, for distances of sixty to
eighty miles. On June 5th Colonel Plumer with 460 men went off to the
north-west; Macfarlane's column, 400 strong, set out for the north. A
third column, under Spreckley, was to set forth next day, but at ten
o'clock in the evening, as Baden-Powell was finishing his office-work,
the American scout Burnham rode in to announce the near presence of a
large impi of the Matabele. Baden-Powell went out to reconnoitre, and
ere morning had sent a request to Buluwayo for troops from Spreckley's
column. With a force of 250 men and two guns he moved upon the waiting
Matabele, who were about 1200 strong. He thus describes the fight in
his journal:--
"They did not seem very excited at our advance, but all stood looking
as we crossed the Umgusa stream, but as we began to breast the slope on
their side of it, and on which their camp lay, they became exceedingly
lively, and were soon running like ants to take post in good positions
at the edge of a long belt of thicker bush. We afterwards found that
their apathy at first was due to a message from the M'limo, who had
instructed them to approach and to draw out the garrison, and to get
us to cross the Umgusa, because he (the M'limo) would then cause the
stream to open and swallow up every man of us. After which the impi
would have nothing to do but walk into Buluwayo and cut up the women
and children at their leisure. But something had gone wrong with the
M'limo's machinery, and we crossed the stream without any contretemps.
So, as we got nearer to the swarm of black heads among the grass and
bushes, their rifles began to pop and their bullets to flit past with a
weird little 'phit,' 'phit,' or a jet of dust and a shrill 'wh-e-e-e-w'
where they ricocheted off the ground. Some of our men, accustomed to
mounted infantry work, were now for jumping off to return the fire, but
the order was given: 'No; make a cavalry fight of it. Forward! Gallop!'
[Illustration: The Umgusa Fight: June 6th.]
"Then, as we came up close, the niggers let us have an irregular,
rackety volley, and in another moment we were among them. They did not
wait, but one and all they turned to fly, dodging in among the bushes,
loading as they ran. And we were close upon their heels, zigzagging
through the thorns, jumping off now and then, or pulling up, to fire a
shot (we had not a sword among us, worse luck!), and on again.
"The men that I was with--Grey's Scouts--never seemed to miss a shot.
"The Matabele as they ran kept stopping behind bushes to fire. Now and
again they tried to rally, but whenever a clump of them began to form
or tried to stand, we went at them with a whoop and a yell, and both
spurs in, and sent them flying. Of course, besides their guns they had
their assegais. Several of our horses got some wounds, and one man got
a horrid stab straight into his stomach. I saw another of our men fling
himself on to a Kafir who was stabbing at him; together they rolled on
the ground, and in a twinkling the white man had twisted the spear from
its owner's hand, and after a short, sharp tussle, he drove it through
the other's heart.
"In one place one of the men got somewhat detached from the rest, and
came on a bunch of eight of the enemy. These fired on him and killed
his horse, but he himself was up in trice, and, using magazine fire, he
let them have it with such effect that before they could close on him
with their clubs and assegais, he had floored half their number, and
the rest just turned and fled. And farther on a horse was shot, and, in
the fall, his rider stunned. The niggers came looping up, grinning at
the anticipated bloodshed, but Sergeant Farley, of Grey's Scouts, was
there before them, and, hoisting up his comrade on to his horse, got
him safe away.
"Everywhere one found the Kafirs creeping into bushes, where they lay
low till some of us came by, and then they loosed off their guns at us
after we had passed.
"I had my Colt's repeater with me--with only six cartridges in the
magazine, and soon I found I had finished these--so, throwing it
under a peculiar tree, where I might find it again, I went on with my
revolver. Presently I came on an open stretch of ground, and about
eighty yards before me was a Kafir with a Martini-Henry. He saw me and
dropped on one knee and drew a steady bead on me. I felt so indignant
at this that I rode at him as hard as I could go, calling him every
name under the sun; he aimed,--for an hour, it seemed to me,--and it
was quite a relief when at last he fired, at about ten yards distance,
and still more of a relief when I realized he had clean missed me. Then
he jumped up and turned to run, but he had not gone two paces when he
cringed as if some one had slapped him hard on the back, then his head
dropped and his heels flew up, and he fell smack on his face, shot by
one of our men behind me.
"At last I called a halt. Our horses were done, the niggers were all
scattered, and there were almost as many left behind us hiding in
bushes as there were running on in front.
"A few minutes spent in breathing the horses, and a vast amount of
jabber and chaff, and then we re-formed the line and returned at a
walk, clearing the bush as we went.
"I had one shave. I went to help two men who were fighting a Kafir at
the foot of a tree, but they killed him just as I got there. I was
under the tree when something moving over my head caught my attention.
It was a gun-barrel taking aim down at me, the firer jammed so close
to the tree-stem as to look like part of it. Before I could move he
fired, and just ploughed into the ground at my feet. He did not remain
much longer in the tree. I have his knobkerrie and his photo now as
mementoes.
"At length we mustered again at our starting-point, where the guns and
ambulance had been left. We found that, apart from small scratches and
contusions, we had only four men badly wounded. One poor fellow had his
thigh smashed by a ball from an elephant gun, from which he afterwards
died. Another had two bullets in his back. Four horses had been killed.
"And the blow dealt to the enemy was a most important one. A prisoner
told us that the impi was composed of picked men from all the chief
regiments of the rebel forces, and that a great number of the chiefs
were present at the fight."
[Illustration: Eight to One.]
Baden-Powell contrived to vary the monotony of office-work by a little
scouting. He made friends with Burnham and arranged to go scouting with
him, and was much disappointed that the agreement could not be carried
out. In his journal, under date June 26th, he mentions that having
been closely confined to the office for four days, he set out after
dinner for a ten-mile ride, roused up some other congenial spirits, and
spent the night out-o'-doors, feeling all the better for the change.
However, as the days sped on, opportunities for indulging in scouting
came, and Baden-Powell--to whom at this time the Matabele gave the
nickname of Impeesa--the Wolf that never Sleeps--made a great many
useful observations of the Matopos country. Then came his release from
town and office life. As he knew the country intimately, he was sent
to act as guide to Colonel Plumer, whose force was about to engage in
a campaign in the Matopos, and on the evening of July 19th he went off
alone in front of the column (preferring that "for fear of having my
attention distracted if any one were with me, and of thereby losing
my bearings") across the moonlit country. They advanced close to the
enemy and then lay down to sleep--"jolly cold" it was, he says in
his journal--rising at dawn to enter a hollow, bushy valley where he
"jumped for joy" at finding some traces of the enemy's presence. The
following extract from Baden-Powell's journal affords a graphic picture
of what followed:--
"My telescope soon showed that there was a large camp with numerous
fires, and crowds of natives moving among them. These presently formed
into one dense brown mass, with their assegai blades glinting sharply
in the rays of the morning sun. We soon got the guns up to the front
from the main body, and in a few minutes they were banging their shells
with beautiful accuracy over the startled rebel camp.
"While they were at this game, I stole onwards with a few native scouts
into the bottom of the valley, and soon saw another thin wisp of smoke
not far from me in the bush; we crept cautiously down, and there found
a small outpost of the enemy just leaving the spot where they had been
camped for the night. At this point two valleys ran off from the main
valley in which we were; one, running to the south, was merely a long
narrow gorge, along which flowed the Tuli River; the other, on the
opposite side of the river from us, ran to the eastward and formed
a small open plateau surrounded by a circle of intricate koppies.
While we were yet watching at this point, strings of natives suddenly
appeared streaming across this open valley, retiring from the camp on
the mountain above, which was being shelled by our guns. They were
going very leisurely, and, thinking themselves unobserved, proceeded to
take up their position among the encircling koppies. I sent back word
of their movements, and calling together the Native Levy, proceeded
at once to attack them. To do this more effectually, we worked round
to the end of the main valley and got into some vast rock strongholds
on the edge of the Tuli gorge. These, though recently occupied by
hundreds of men, were now vacated, and one had an opportunity of
seeing what a rebel stronghold was like from the inside; all the paths
were blocked and barricaded with rocks and small trees; the whole
place was honeycombed with caves to which all entrances, save one or
two, were blocked with stones; among these loopholes were left, such
as to enable the occupants to fire in almost any direction. Looking
from these loopholes to the opposite side of the gorge, we could see
the enemy close on us in large numbers, taking up their position in a
similar stronghold. Now and again two or three of them would come out
of a cave on to a flat rock and dance a war-dance at our troops, which
they could see in the distance, being quite unsuspicious of our near
presence. They were evidently rehearsing what they would do when they
caught the white man among their rocks, and they were shouting all
sorts of insults to the troops, more with a spirit of bravado than with
any idea of their reaching their ears at that distance. Interesting as
the performance was, we did not sit it out for long, but put an abrupt
end to it by suddenly loosing a volley at them at short range and from
this unexpected quarter.
"Then, clambering down among the rocks, we crossed the Tuli River and
commenced the ascent of the towering crags in which the enemy were
located. Of course this had to be done on foot, and I left my horse
tied to a tree, with my coat and all spare kit hung in the branches.
"Our friendlies went very gaily at the work at first, with any
amount of firing, but very little result; the enemy had now entirely
disappeared into their caves and holes among the rocks, merely looking
out to fire and then popping in again. Our own niggers climbed about,
firing among the rocks, but presently did more firing than climbing,
and began to take cover and to stick to it; finally, two of them were
bowled over, and the rest of them got behind the rocks and there
remained, and no efforts could get them to budge. I then called up the
Cape Boys and the Maxims (in which Lord Grey assisted where it was
difficult to move owing to the very bad ground); these reinforcements
came up with no loss of time and went to work with a will. It was
delightful to watch the cool, business-like way in which Robertson
brought his Boys along. They floundered through the boggy stream
and crawled up the smooth, dome-shaped rocks beyond, and soon were
clambering up among the koppies, banging and cheering. Llewellyn, too,
brought his guns along at equal speed, and soon had them in equal
position on apparently inaccessible crags, where they came into action
with full effect at every chance the enemy gave them.
[Illustration: Scout Burnham.]
"The fight gradually moved along the eastern valley, in the centre
of which was a convenient rock from which I was able to see all that
was going on, and it formed a good centre for directing the attacks,
as the enemy were in the rocks on every side of us. The Cape Boys,
after making a long circle round through part of the stronghold,
reassembled at this spot, and from it directed their further attacks on
the different parts requiring them, and it became the most convenient
position for the machine guns, as they were able to play in every
direction in turn from this point. For the systematic attack on the
stronghold a portion of it is assigned to each company, and it is a
pleasing sight to see the calm and ready way in which they set to work.
They crowd into the narrow, bushy paths between the koppies, and then
swarm out over the rocks from whence the firing comes, and very soon
the row begins. A scattered shot here and there, and then a rattling
volley; the boom of the elephant gun roaring dully from inside a cave
is answered by the sharp crack of a Martini-Henry; the firing gradually
wakes up on every side of us, the weird whisk of a bullet overhead is
varied by the hum of a leaden-coated stone or the shriek of a pot-leg
fired from a Matabele big-bore gun; and when these noises threaten
to become monotonous, they are suddenly enlivened up by the hurried
energetic "tap, tap, tap" of the Maxims or the deafening "pong" of
the Hotchkiss. As you approach the koppies, excitement seems to be in
the air; they stand so still and harmless-looking, and yet you know
that from several at least of those holes and crannies the enemy are
watching you, with finger on trigger, waiting for a fair chance. But it
is from the least expected quarter that a roar comes forth and a cloud
of smoke, and the dust flies up at your feet."
The campaign in the Matopos continued until nearly the middle of
August, and Baden-Powell was actively engaged during the whole of it,
chiefly in reconnaissance and scouting. Once, at any rate, he met with
an amusing adventure in giving chase to a young Matabele lady, who
proved herself quite equal to him in agility and cunning.
" ... I still wanted to catch a prisoner--though I did not at first see
my way to doing it. However, in the course of our prowl we presently
came on fresh well-beaten tracks, evidently of women and children
going to and from the outlying country, probably bringing in supplies.
This seemed to offer us a chance of catching some of them coming
in, although, as the sun was up, we had little hope of being very
successful.
"But luck was with us again, and we had hardly settled ourselves near
the path when I saw a couple of women coming along with loads on their
heads. The moment they saw us, they dropped their loads and ran, but
Richardson and I galloped for them, and one, an elderly lady, gave
herself up without any fuss; but the other, a lithe and active young
person, dived away at a tremendous pace into the long grass, and
completely disappeared from view. We searched about, and kept a bright
look-out for her, but in vain.
"Then Richardson questioned the old lady, who proved to be very
communicative; she was apparently superintending the supply department
of Umlugulu's impi, and was now returning from a four days' visit of
inspection to the supply base in some of his villages in the district.
She was a lady of rank too, being a niece of Umzilikatze, and we should
not have caught her, so she said, had her escort not been a pack of
lazy dogs. She had four Matabele warriors with her, but they had
dropped behind on the path, and should not now be far off. This was
good news to us, and, calling up our Boys, we laid an ambush ready to
catch the escort.
[Illustration: The Peace Indaba with the Matopo Rebels.
Mr. Cecil Rhodes carried out the peace negotiations with the
Matabele chiefs. He was assisted by Dr. Sauer (on his left) and
Capt. Colenbrander (on his right), and accompanied by Mr. Stent (war
correspondent of the _Cape Times_).]
"While this was being done, I happened to catch sight of our young lady
stealing away in the distance. She was getting away at a great pace,
her body bent double to the ground, taking advantage of every bit of
cover, more like an animal than a human being. Away I went after her
as hard as I could go, and I had a grand gallop. When she found that
concealment was no longer any use, she straightened herself and just
started off like a deer, and at a pace equal to my own; it was a grand
race through long grass and bush, the ground gradually getting more
rough and broken as it approached the hills, and this told in her
favour, for as her pace slackened for want of breath, my horse also was
going slower owing to the bad ground. So she ran me right up to the
stronghold, and just got away into the rocks ahead of me. I had, of
course, then to haul off, as to go farther was to walk into the hands
of the impi. The bad part of it was, that she had now got in there, and
would spread the news of our being about, and they would probably come
out and upset our little plan of catching the party on the road."
But sometimes there were incidents which had nothing but the darker
colours of life in them. In the fight of August 5th, two of the little
band of officers under Colonel Plumer were killed, and Baden-Powell
thus comments upon their loss in his journal, under date August 6th:--
"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 he knew to come and see him and to say good-bye. He was perfectly
possessed and cheery to the last, and happily without much pain.
"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.
[Illustration: The Battle of August 5th.
The sketch above will explain the nature of the operation which led to
Colonel Plumer's victory on August 5th.]
"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."
On the night of August 10th, Baden-Powell rode thirty miles into
Buluwayo to report to General Carrington that the enemy in the Matopos
were completely broken up and probably willing to surrender. From
thence onward to September 6th he was on the sick-list--fever and
dysentery--but he was pulled up on the 7th by "a better tonic than any
which the combined medical faculty of Buluwayo could devise," in the
shape of orders from the General to take charge of a column then under
Ridley in the Somabula Forest. Next day he took three of Plumer's men
as escort, and set off, in his shirt-sleeves as usual, for a hundred
miles ride through a wild country. They had various small adventures
on the way--amongst them being a meeting with a nigger who told
Baden-Powell a beautifully conceived and executed lie about a great
battle which had _not_ taken place. There are some interesting and
significant entries in his journal about this time. Here is one as to
the making of bread under difficulties:--
"I lay up during the heat of the day with a waterproof sheet spread
over a thorn-bush as a shelter from the sun. The men dug water in the
sand, washed, and baked bread. To bake bread, lay your coat on the
ground, inside upwards, mix the flour and water in it (it doesn't show
when you put the coat on again); for yeast or baking powder use the
juice of the toddy palm or Eno's Fruit Salt to make a light dough;
scrape a circle in the ashes of the fire, flop your lump of dough,
spread fine sand all round and all over it, then heap the embers of the
fire on to it; in half an hour an excellent flat loaf of bread results.
It requires scrubbing with a horse-brush before you eat it."
Under date 11th occurs a passage often quoted by those who have written
about Baden-Powell--a passage which, I think, is more indicative of the
true character of the man than anything he has done, said, or written.
"_September 11th._--My anniversary of joining Her Majesty's Service,
1876-1896--twenty years. I always think more of this anniversary than
of that of my birth, and I could not picture a more enjoyable way of
spending it. I am here, out in the wilds, with three troopers. They
are all Afrikanders, that is, Colonial born, one an ex-policeman,
another a mining engineer (went to England with me in 1889 on board the
_Mexican_), the third an electrical engineer from Johannesburg,--all of
them good men on the veldt, and good fighting men. We are nearly eighty
miles from Buluwayo and thirty from the nearest troops. I have rigged
up a shelter from the sun with my blanket, a rock, and a thorn-bush;
thirteen thousand flies are unfortunately staying with me, and are
awfully attentive. One of us is always on the look-out by night and by
day. Our stock of food, crockery, cooking utensils, and bedding does
not amount to anything much, as we carry it all on our saddles.
[Illustration: A Human Salt-Cellar.]
"Once, not very long ago, at an afternoon 'At Home,' I was handing a
cup of tea to an old dowager, who bridled up in a mantle with bugles
and beads, and some one noticed that in doing so my face wore an absent
look, and I was afterwards asked where my thoughts were at that time.
I could only reply that 'My mind was a blank, with a single vision in
it, lower half yellow, upper half blue,' in other words, the yellow
veldt of South Africa, topped with the blue South African sky. Possibly
the scent of the tea had touched some memory chord which connected it
with my black tin billy, steaming among the embers of a wood fire; but
whatever it was then, my vision is to-day a reality. I am looking out
on the yellow veldt and the blue sky; the veldt with its grey, hazy
clumps of thorn-bush is shimmering in the heat, and its vast expanse
is only broken by the gleaming white sand of the river-bed and the
green reeds and bushes which fringe its banks. (Interruption: Stand to
the tent! a 'Devil,' with its roaring pillar of dust and leaves, comes
tearing by.) I used to think that the novelty of the thing would wear
off, that these visions of the veldt would fade away as civilized life
grew upon me. But they didn't. They came again at most inopportune
moments: just when I ought to be talking _The World_, or _Truth_, or
_Modern Society_ (with the cover removed), and making my reputation as
a 'sensible, well-informed man, my dear,' with the lady in the mantle,
somebody in the next room has mentioned the word saddle, or rifle, or
billy, or some other attribute of camp life, and off goes my mind at a
tangent to play with its toys. Old Oliver Wendell Holmes is only too
true when he says that most of us are 'boys all our lives'; we have our
toys, and will play with them with as much zest at eighty as at eight,
that in their company we can never grow old. I can't help it if my toys
take the form of all that has to do with veldt life, and if they remain
my toys till I drop--
"'Then here's to our boyhood, its gold and its grey,
The stars of its winter, the dews of its May;
And when we have done with our life-lasting toys,
Dear Father, take care of Thy children, the boys.'
May it not be that our toys are the various media adapted to individual
tastes through which men may know their God? As Ramakrishna Paramahansa
writes: 'Many are the names of God and infinite the forms that lead us
to know of Him. In whatsoever name or form you desire to know Him, in
that very name and form you will know Him.'"
Arrived in camp on September 12th, Baden-Powell, on taking over the
command from Ridley, found himself confronted by a problem which he
rapidly solved in a fashion that afterwards led him into a certain
amount of trouble. The leading chief of that part of the country,
Uwini, had been captured, and was a prisoner in hospital, and the
question was what to do with him. He was one of the four great
chiefs of the Matabele, was supposed to be sacred, infallible, and
invulnerable, and had been one of the principal instigators of the
rebellion. Baden-Powell knew that an exemplary punishment inflicted
upon him would act as a deterrent upon the rebels, who were rapidly
massing in great force close by, and he accordingly ordered Uwini's
immediate trial by Field General Court-martial. How the thing was
done Baden-Powell records in characteristically brief fashion in his
journal:--
"_September 13th._--The court-martial assembled on Uwini this morning,
and tried him on charges of armed rebellion, for ordering his people
to murder whites, and for instigating rebellion in this part of
the country. The court-martial gave him a long hearing, in which he
practically confessed to what was charged against him, and they found
him guilty, and sentenced him to be shot. I was sorry for him--he was a
fine old savage; but I signed his warrant, directing that he should be
shot at sundown.
* * * * *
"At sunset all the natives in camp, both friendlies, refugees and
prisoners, were paraded to witness the execution of Uwini. He was taken
out to an open place in the centre of his stronghold, where all his
people who were still holding out could see what was being done, and he
was there shot by a firing party from the troops."
Later on there was some red-tape business over this episode, and some
talk of court-martialling Baden-Powell, but it came to nothing--he had
done the only thing that could be done.
[Illustration: Fresh Horse-Beef.]
The Shangani column, under Baden-Powell's command, made a complete
examination of the thickly-wooded country about the Gwelo without
finding much trace of the enemy. By September 20th their rations began
to run out, and on that day Baden-Powell was obliged to order one of
the horses to be shot, cut up, and served out to the men--a foretaste
of what was to happen in Mafeking a few years later. He gives the
_menu_ of his mid-day meal that day:--
" ... Weak tea (can't afford it strong), no sugar (we are out of it),
a little bread (we have half a pound a day), Irish stew (consisting of
slab of horse boiled in muddy water with a pinch of rice and half a
pinch of pea-flour), salt, none. For a plate I use one of my gaiters;
it is marked 'Tautz & Sons, No. 3031'; it is a far cry from veldt and
horseflesh to Tautz and Oxford Street."
They were now to meet with a new and dreadful enemy in the shape of
Thirst. They travelled for a long distance without finding any signs of
water; then Baden-Powell and Gielgud, an old American scout, set out
on ponies in the endeavour to find river, or pool, or spring. After
travelling nine miles without success, they decided to turn back and
retreat with the patrol upon the Gwelo River, but when dawn broke on
September 21st they found to their horror that the patrol had followed
them, and was close at hand. Then Gielgud and Baden-Powell set out
again, casting about in the dry, baked valleys and sunburnt vleys for
hours without success, until at last, when the American scout was
asleep on his horse for very weariness, Baden-Powell noticed that a
buck had been scratching in the sand, and that two pigeons flew away
from behind a rock. There was water of a sort there, priceless to
thirsty men, and there the patrol was quickly brought. That night,
luckily, they came to the Shangani, and it being a "great occasion,"
Baden-Powell supped off his last spoonful of cocoa, a nugget of
rock-like bread, and a fid of horse, and went to bed without his boots.
What luxuriousness!
From the Shangani River Baden-Powell moved on to Ingati, and thence
into Balingwe district, having with him a column consisting of half
a squadron of the 7th Hussars and the York and Lancaster Mounted
Infantry, and a seven-pounder and a machine gun manned by police--a
handful of 160 men altogether, with an ambulance and wagons carrying
three weeks' supplies. He advanced across country to the stronghold
in which Wedza, one of the rebel chiefs, had entrenched himself, and
demanded that gentleman's surrender. What sort of strong place it
was in which Wedza had gathered his forces may be guessed at from
Baden-Powell's description of it:--
"The stronghold itself is a long mountain, consisting of six peaks
of about 800 feet high, its total length being about two and a half
miles, and its width about a mile and a half. On the extreme top of
five of the peaks are perched strong kraals, and in addition to these
there are three small kraals on the side of the mountain; underneath
each of the kraals are labyrinths of caves. The mountain itself has
steep, boulder-strewn, bush-grown sides, generally inaccessible, except
where the narrow, difficult paths lead up to the various strongholds,
and these paths have been fortified by the rebels with stockades and
with stone breastworks, and in many places they pass between huge
rocks, where only one man could squeeze through at a time. The paths
are commanded by loopholes for musketry from the caves. The kraals are
collections of circular mud huts with thatched roofs, built on crags
near the tops of the hills, and on the most inaccessible rocks among
them are perched the corn-bins; these grain stores are little circular
pillars exactly like pillar letter-boxes at home, but made of wattle
and daub, with a small thatched roof; a little hole is left near the
top of the bin, just as a hole for letters in the letter-box, and
through this hole the corn is poured into the bin. When full, the hole
is sealed up with a flat stone and mortar. When one loots a kraal, the
first thing to do is to knock out this stone, look in, and if there is
corn there of the kind that you require, make a hole in the bottom of
the wall and apply the mouth of your sack to it, and the corn will run
in."
He had already expressed his conviction that it would take every man
of Paget's column and of his own combined to reduce this stronghold,
but on October 14th Paget sent runners to say that he could not join
him, so Baden-Powell determined to tackle Wedza with such forces as he
had at his own disposal. It was something of a daring feat. Wedza's
mountain was tenanted by about 1600 people, of whom 600 or 700 were
fighting men entrenched in an almost impregnable position; Baden-Powell
had 120 men all told. He felt sure that a direct attack would result in
nothing but loss, and therefore decided that the only thing possible
was to try and bluff the enemy out of his position. His idea was as
follows:--
"Wedza's mountain is a kind of promontory standing out from a range
of smaller mountains, so I ordered the mounted infantry (York and
Lancaster Regiment), under Lieutenant Thurnall, to leave their horses
in the open valley at the foot of the mountain, and to gain the neck
which joined the mountain to the range of mountains northward. From
this position the mounted infantry would command a large part of
the stronghold with their fire, and would cut off the enemy's line
of retreat to the mountains. This party was ordered to take up with
them their great-coats, water, and two days' rations, for they would
have to stay there the whole day and night, and possibly part of the
following day; there were only about twenty-five of them, but they were
ordered to act as if there were 250, and right well they played their
part. My idea was, that, so soon as this party should have established
themselves in their position on the neck, I would bombard the central
part of the position systematically with artillery and machine-gun
fire, and, at the same time, threaten the left (southern) flank, and
the rear of the position with parties of 7th Hussars.
"I intended to keep up this demonstration during the day and to-night,
hoping that such action, combined with the moral effect already
afforded by the object lesson at Matzetetza's yesterday, would so work
on the feelings of the defenders, that they would take my previous
advice and surrender; or if they did not do that, that, at least, they
would be so demoralized that an assault could be carried out with
some chance of success on the morrow. For these natives will stand
your coming at their position so long as you do so from the expected
direction, but if you come at them some other way, or look as if you
were likely to cut off their line of retreat, they are very liable to
become frightened, and therefore, in dealing with them, it sometimes
becomes necessary to disregard the teachings of books on tactics, and,
instead of concentrating your force, to spread it about in a way that
would invite disaster were you acting against civilized troops. In
order to gain our positions to carry out this plan, I took the mounted
infantry by one route, and sent the Hussars and guns by another more
southerly path--under Major Ridley--to take up their places as ordered."
During the course of the engagement which followed Baden-Powell had a
very narrow escape from death. He had worked round into a labyrinth
of small valleys at the back of Wedza's mountain, and, leaving his
horse concealed there, had clambered up on to the ridge in order to
reconnoitre the stronghold from the rear. After he and his companions
had been there until sundown they turned to make their way back, and
here came the narrow shave:--
"Owing to the broken nature of the country at this point, we were
forced to carry out what I always consider a most dangerous practice,
and that is, to return by the same path which you used in coming,
and the danger of it was practically demonstrated on this occasion.
Riding quietly along in the dusk, we had just got out of the bad part,
thinking all danger was over, when there was suddenly a flash and a
crash of musketry from a ridge of rocks close to us, dust spurted up
all around, and a swish of bullets whizzed past our heads. My hat was
violently struck from my head as if with a stick, and in an instant
we were galloping across the thirty yards of open which separated us
from a similar parallel ridge; dismounting here, we were very soon
busy replying to the firing of the enemy, whose forms we could now and
again see silhouetted against the evening sky. We had had a marvellous
escape; Jackson himself had been grazed on the shoulder, his horse had
a bullet-hole in its temple, the bullet had lodged in its head, and,
beyond possibly a slight headache, the gallant little horse appeared to
be none the worse. Our position here was not too good a one: the enemy
were evidently a fairly strong party, and would merely have to work
among the rocks, a little to the right, to cut us off from rejoining
our main body. Moreover, they had practically possession, or, at least,
command of fire over my hat, which I badly wanted. But it looked as
though we ought at once to be making good our retreat, if we meant
to go away at all. We were just mounting to carry this out, when out
of the gathering darkness behind, there trotted up a strong party
of hussars, under Prince Teck, who, hearing the firing, had at once
hurried to the spot; his coming was most opportune, and reversed the
aspect of affairs. After a few minutes of sharp firing, the rocks in
front of us were cleared and occupied by our men, and my hat came back
to me."
This escape, however, was not so wonderful or so thrilling as that
of one of the Cape Boys, who gravely informed Baden-Powell that a
bullet had passed between the top of his ear and his head. It was an
escape, though, and a lucky one, for it enabled Baden-Powell to see his
well-laid plans crowned with success. Arrived at camp on the night of
October 22nd, he received news of Wedza's willingness to submit, and
orders to combine with Paget.
From October 25th to November 15th he was occupied in clearing the
Mashona frontier. Those folk who stay at home and never see a soldier
in anything but the spick-and-span-ishness of the parade-ground or the
park may be interested in Baden-Powell's description of himself and his
life at this time:--
"We are a wonderfully dirty and ragged-looking crew now--especially
me, because I left Buluwayo six weeks ago to join this column only
with such things as I could carry on a led pony (including bedding and
food). My breeches and shirts are in tatters, my socks have nearly
disappeared in shreds. Umtini, my Matabele boy, has made sandals for me
to wear over--or at least outside--my soleless shoes. And everywhere
the veldt has been burnt by grass fires--every breeze carries about
the fine black dust, and five minutes after washing, your hands and
arms and face are as grimy and black as ever--as if you were in London
again. Bathing 'the altogether' too often is apt to result in fever.
Too much washing of hands is apt to help veldt sores to originate--so
we don't trouble to keep clean.
"Veldt sores bother nearly every one of us. Every scratch you get
(and you get a good number from thorns, &c.) at once becomes a small
sore, gradually grows, and lasts sometimes for weeks. It is partly
the effect of hot sun and dry air too rapidly drying up the wound,
and also probably the blood is not in too good a state from living on
unchanging diet of tinned half-salt beef and tinned vegetables. We have
very little variety, except when we loot some sheep or kill a buck. No
vegetables, and we are out of sugar, tea, cocoa, and rice. Matches are
at a premium, pipes are manufactured out of mealie corncobs and small
reeds. Tobacco is very scarce--tea-leaves were in use till tea came to
an end."
[Illustration: Dolce far Niente.
General Sir F. Carrington and Mr. Cecil Rhodes on the homeward journey.]
However, the end was drawing near. "Wedza's may be said to have been
the final blow," he remarks in his journal. On October 29th his patrol
was over, and the mounted infantry went off for their march down
country, prior to embarkation for India, and Baden-Powell himself went
to Gwelo, to give a little explanation as to his summary dealings
with Uwini. He was in a little brush with the stragglers of the rebel
Matabele at Magnuze Poort; then met Sir Frederick Carrington and went
on with him to Salisbury, where he rejoined civilization, dined out,
made calls, rode a bicycle, and went fox-hunting. He also joined in
the pleasures of paying a hotel bill which appears to have been one
of the most interesting documents ever heard of. It amounted to £258,
and covered the expenses of five persons for twelve days, exclusive of
liquid refreshment, the cost of which may be gathered from the fact
that a whisky and soda meant the expenditure of three shillings! Thence
onward to Umtali, and in company with Cecil Rhodes and other great folk
to Port Elizabeth, the Liverpool of South Africa, and to Cape Town once
more. And then the swift, steady home-going on the _Dunvegan Castle_,
with the sense of duty done for empire and right, and at last, on
January 27th, 1897, Baden-Powell found himself at home once more, and
thought, no doubt, of the wild life of the previous ten months, with a
strong hope that something like it would quickly come again.