LANGALIBALELE.
Meanwhile in Natal mischief was brewing. A certain chief in the north
of the colony was supposed to be in a very rebellious frame of mind,
and it was rumoured that force of arms would prove necessary in order
to bring him to his senses.
This chief was one Langalibalele, who, with his tribe, the
Ama-Hlubi, had been driven out of Zululand by Umpande in the year
1848, and had taken refuge in Natal. He was located by the English
Government in the country below the Draakensberg Mountains, with
the duty imposed upon him of defending Natal against the attacks
of the predatory hordes of Bushmen who, in the early days of the
colony, made perpetual and destructive raids over the mountains.
From this point of view it would seem reasonable that the Hlubi
tribe should be permitted the use of firearms, prohibited, except
under certain restrictions, to the natives of Natal; inattention to
which prohibition was the ground upon which the original suspicions
concerning Langalibalele’s loyalty were based. The law, however,
by which this prohibition and these restrictions were made was one
of those enactments which, even when theoretically wise, are often
practically impossible, and to which new communities are so prone.
Theoretically no native can possess a gun in Natal which has not
been registered before a magistrate. Practically, in every kraal, in
every part of the colony, there were, and doubtless still are, many
unregistered guns, bought by natives, or given to them in lieu of
wages by their masters (a common practice at the Diamond Fields),
with very vague comprehension or total ignorance on the part of
the native that any unlawful act had been committed. This would be
more especially natural when the masters who thus furnished their
men with the forbidden weapon were themselves in some way connected
with the government of the country (Natal), whose sanction would
therefore be looked upon by the natives as an equivalent to the
permission of Government itself. But in point of fact the law had
always been enforced in such an extremely lax way, the evasions of
it were so easy and numerous, and so many white men of position and
respectability in the colony were party to the infraction of it,
that it is no wonder that its reality and importance was but lightly
engraved upon the native mind.
The special accusation, however, brought against Langalibalele to
prove his rebellious tendencies was that young men of his tribe were
in possession of unregistered guns, which, in addition, had not
been brought in to the magistrate, when demanded, for registration.
The reason for this unwillingness (on the part of the young men) to
comply with the above demands, appeared afterwards in the fact that
other guns which had been properly produced for registration, had,
after considerable delay, been returned to their owners in an injured
condition, rendering them unfit for use.
As these guns were the well-earned reward of hard labour, and
greatly valued by their possessors, it is little to be wondered at
that there should be considerable reluctance on the part of others
to risk the same loss. A little forbearance and consideration on
the part of those in authority might, however, easily have overcome
the difficulty. But in this case, as in others, the mistake was
committed of requiring prompt and unquestioning obedience, without
sufficient care being taken to protect the rights of those who
rendered it. As usual we would not stop to reason or deal justly
with the savage. Carelessness of the property of the natives, the
overbearing impatience of a magistrate, the want of tact and good
feeling on the part of a commonplace subordinate—all these led to an
indefinitely uneasy state of things, which soon produced considerable
anxiety in the colonial mind. This feeling prevailed during Mr.
Shepstone’s absence in Zululand, and it was generally understood that
the Secretary for Native Affairs’ next piece of work after crowning
Cetshwayo would be that of “settling Langalibalele.”
But beyond the reluctance to produce their guns for registration,
there was nothing in the behaviour of the Hlubi tribe to give the
colonists cause for apprehension. No lawless acts were committed, no
cattle stolen, no farmhouse fired, and the vague fears which existed
amongst the white inhabitants as to what might happen were rather
the result of the way in which “Government” shook its head over the
matter as a serious one, than justified by any real cause for alarm.
It was in fact one of those “Government scares” which occasionally
were produced from causes or for reasons not apparent on the surface.
On Mr. Shepstone’s return from the coronation of Cetshwayo,
Government native messengers were sent to Langalibalele, requiring
the latter to come down in person to Pietermaritzburg, the capital
of Natal, to answer for the conduct of his tribe concerning their
guns. The message produced a great—and to those who were ignorant of
the cause of it—a most unreasonable panic in the tribe, in which the
chief himself shared considerably. The Ama-Hlubi appeared exceedingly
suspicious, even of the designs of the Government messengers,
who were made to take off their great-coats, and were searched
for concealed weapons before being admitted into the presence of
Langalibalele. Such distrust of British good faith was held in itself
to be a crime, the insolence of which could not be overlooked.
Furthermore it was soon evident that the tribe would not trust their
chief, nor he his person, in the hands of the Government, now that
he was in disfavour. Without actually refusing to obey the orders
he had received and proceed to Pietermaritzburg, Langalibalele sent
excuses and apologies, chiefly turning upon his own ill-health,
which made travelling difficult to him. This answer was the signal
for the military expedition of 1873, which was entered upon without
any further attempts to bring about a peaceful settlement of the
affair, or to find out the real grounds for the evident fear and
distrust of the Hlubi tribe. In October, 1873, the force, partly
of regulars, partly colonial, a few Basuto horse, with an entirely
unorganised and useless addition of untrained Natal natives, started
from Pietermaritzburg, with all the pomp and circumstance of war;
and much to the delight of the young colonial blood on the look-out
for martial distinction. The tribe, however, far from having the
least wish to fight, or intention of opposing the British force,
deserted their location as soon as the news reached them that the
army had started, and fled with their chief over the Draakensberg
Mountains. Our force, commanded by Colonel Milles of the 75th
Regiment, and accompanied by the Lieut.-Governor Sir B. C. C. Pine
and Mr. Shepstone, reached a place called Meshlyn, situated on the
confines of the district to be subdued, on October 31st; but the
“enemy” had vanished, and were reported to be making the best of
their way out of the colony, without, however, committing ravages of
any description on their way, even to the extent of carrying off any
of their neighbours’ cattle. In fact they were frightened, and simply
ran away. Our object now was to arrest the tribe in its flight; and a
plan was formed for enclosing it in a network of troops, seizing all
the passes over the mountains, and thus reducing it to submission.
Positions were assigned to the different officers in command, and
the scheme looked extremely well on paper, and to men who were
not acquainted with the district and the exceeding difficulty of
travelling through it. Unfortunately, with the same lamentable
failure in the Intelligence Department which has characterised
the more important proceedings of 1879, very little was known, by
those in command, of the country, or of what was going on in it. Mr.
Shepstone himself, whose supposed knowledge of the people, their
land, and all concerning them was so greatly and naturally relied
upon, proved totally ignorant of the distances which lay between one
point and another, or of the difficulties to be overcome in reaching
them.
In consequence of this singular ignorance a little force was sent
out on the evening of November 2nd, under command of Major Durnford,
R.E., chief of the staff, with orders to seize and hold a certain
pass known as the Bushman’s River Pass, over which Langalibalele was
expected to escape; the distance having been miscalculated by about
two-thirds, and the difficulties of the way immensely underrated.
Major Durnford was himself a new-comer in the colony at that time,
and had therefore no personal knowledge of the country; but he
was supplied with full, though, as it soon appeared, unreliable
information by those under whose command he served, and who were in
possession of a plan or diagram of the district which turned out to
be altogether incorrect. He did, indeed, reach his assigned post,
though four-and-twenty hours after the time by which he expected
to be there; while those sent out to take up other positions never
reached them at all, owing to the same incorrect information
concerning locality.
Major Durnford was in command of a party composed of 2 officers,
6 non-commissioned officers, and 47 rank and file of the Natal
and Karkloof Carbineers, 24 mounted Basutos,[14] and a native
interpreter. His orders were[15] to seize and hold the Bushman’s
River Pass, “with a view to preventing the entrance in or out of the
colony of any natives until the expedition is ready to cross over.”
Special orders were also given to him that he was on no account to
fire the first shot.
There was one excellent reason, not generally taken into
consideration, for this order, in the fact that the three days given
by Government to the tribe in which to surrender would not be over
until midday on the 3rd of November.
Starting at 8.30 P.M. on the 2nd November, Major Durnford’s force
only reached its destination at 6.30 A.M. on the 4th, having
traversed a most difficult country, broken, pathless, and well-nigh
inaccessible. On the line of march many men fell out, utterly unable
to keep up; pack-horses with provisions and spare ammunition were
lost; and Major Durnford had his left shoulder dislocated, and other
severe injuries, by his horse falling with him over a precipice on
the 3rd. He pressed on for some hours, but became quite exhausted at
the foot of the Giant’s Castle Pass, where he lay some time; he was
then dragged up with the aid of a blanket, reaching the top of the
pass at 2 A.M. At 4 A.M. Major Durnford was lifted on his horse, and
with his force—reduced to 1 officer, 1 non-commissioned officer, 33
troopers, and the Basutos—pushed on to the Bushman’s River Pass, and
occupied it at 6.30 A.M., finding Langalibalele’s men already in the
pass.
Major Durnford posted his men, and went forward with the interpreter
to parley with the chiefs, and induce them to return to their
allegiance. This was a service of danger, for the young warriors
were very excited. Seeing that the enemy were getting behind rocks,
etc., commanding the mouth of the pass, he made every preparation
for hostilities, though restricted by the order not to fire the
first shot. Finding that, although the natives drew back when he
bade them, they pressed on again when his back was turned, and that
the volunteers were wavering, he at last reluctantly directed an
orderly retreat to higher ground, from whence he could still command
the pass. Upon a shot being fired by the natives, the retreat became
a stampede, and a heavy fire being opened, three of the Carbineers
and one Basuto fell. The horse of the interpreter was killed, and,
while Major Durnford was endeavouring to reach the man and lift him
on his own horse, the interpreter was killed by his side, and Major
Durnford was surrounded and left alone. Dropping the reins, he drew
his revolver, and shot his immediate assailants, who had seized his
horse’s bridle, and, after running the gauntlet of a numerous enemy
at close quarters, escaped with one serious wound, an assegai-stab in
the left arm, whereby it was permanently disabled. He received one
or two trifling cuts besides, and his patrol-jacket was pierced in
many places. Getting clear of the enemy, Major Durnford rallied a few
Carbineers and the Basutos, and covered the retreat.
The head-quarters camp was reached about 1 A.M. on the 5th. At 11
P.M. on that day, Major Durnford led out a volunteer party—artillery
with rockets, 50 men of the 75th Regiment, 7 Carbineers, and 30
Basutos—to the rescue of Captain Boyes, 75th Regiment, who had been
sent out with a support on the 3rd, and was believed to be in great
danger. Major Durnford had received such serious injuries that the
doctor endeavoured to dissuade him from further exertion, but as
those sent to his support were in danger and he knew the country,
he determined to go. He was lifted on his horse, and left amid the
cheers of the troops in camp. Having marched all night—resting only
from 3 to 5 A.M.—they met Captain Boyes’ party about midday; they had
lost their way, and thus did not find the Giant’s Castle Pass.
After this, Major Durnford, with a considerable force, occupied
Bushman’s River Pass, recovered and buried the bodies of his
comrades, and held the pass. He afterwards patrolled the disturbed
districts. The Lieut.-Governor, Sir B. C. C. Pine, in a despatch
dated 13th November, 1873, accepted the responsibility of the orders
not to fire the first shot, and said of Major Durnford: “He behaved,
by testimony of all present, in the most gallant manner, using his
utmost exertions to rally his little force, till, left _absolutely_
alone, he was reluctantly compelled to follow them—wounded.”
Colonel Milles, commanding the field force, published the following
order:
“CAMP MESHLYN, 7th November, 1873.
“The Commandant, with deep regret, announces to the field
force under his command the loss of three Carbineers, viz.:
Mr. Erskine, Mr. Potterill, and Mr. Bond, and of one native
interpreter, Elijah, who formed part of the small force sent up
with Major Durnford, R.E., to secure the passes, and who were
killed during the retreat of that party from the passes, which,
although they had gallantly seized, they were unable to hold, the
orders being for ‘the forces not to fire the first shot,’ and so
having to wait till they were placed at a great disadvantage.
The brave conduct of those killed is testified to by all their
comrades, and there is consolation alone in the thought that
they died nobly fighting for their country. The Commandant must,
however, publicly render his thanks to Major Durnford for the way
in which he commanded the party, for his courage and coolness,
and especially for the noble way in which, after his return from
the passes, being almost exhausted, he mustered a volunteer party
and marched to the relief of Captain Boyes, who was considered in
great danger.
“By command,
“A. E. ARENGO CROSS
“(For Chief of the Staff).”
Although the main body of the fighting-men of the tribe had left
Natal, most of the women and children, the sick and infirm, with
a few able-bodied men to watch over them, had taken refuge in
holes and caves, of which there are a considerable number in that
mountainous part of the colony. The men of the tribe, indeed, were
in disgrace with the Government, and thought it best to be out of
the way when the British force paid their homes a visit, but it was
not for a moment imagined that the soldiers would make war upon
women and children. The latter, in any case, could not have taken
that tremendous and hurried journey across the great mountains; and,
with what soon proved a very mistaken confidence on the part of the
people, all who could neither fight nor travel were left in these
hiding-places, from which they expected to emerge in safety as soon
as the troops, finding no one to oppose them, should have left the
district. “The English soldiers will not touch the children,”[16]
was the expression used. So far, however, was this idea from being
realised, that the remainder of the expedition consisted of a series
of attempts, more or less successful, to hunt the unfortunate
“children” out of their hiding-places and take them prisoners.
During these proceedings many acts were committed under Government
sanction which can only be characterised by the word “atrocities,”
and which were as useless and unnecessary as they were cruel.[17]
Poor frightened creatures were smoked to death or killed by rockets
in caves which they dared not leave for fear of a worse fate at
the hands of their captors; women and children were killed, men
were tortured, and prisoners put to death. On one occasion a white
commander of native forces is said to have given the significant
information to his men that he _did not wish to see the faces of any
prisoners_; and it is reported that a prisoner was made over to the
native force to be put to death as the latter chose. The colonial
newspapers apologised at the time for some of these acts, on the
score that they were the result of the youthful enthusiasm of “Young
Natal” fleshing his maiden sword.
These acts were chiefly committed by the irregular (white) troops
and native levies, and are a signal proof of how great a crime it
is to turn undisciplined or savage troops, over whom no responsible
person has any real control, loose upon a defenceless people. The
excuse made by those in authority in such cases is always “We did not
intend these things to take place, but horrors are always attendant
on savage warfare.” But such excuses are of small value when, in
campaign after campaign, it has been proved that the use of colonial
troops under their own officers, and of disorganised masses of armed
“friendly natives,” is invariably productive of scenes disgraceful to
the name of England, without any attempt being made to introduce a
better system. Certainly if “horrors” beyond the fair fortune of war
_are_ necessarily attendant upon savage warfare, they should not be
those inflicted by British troops and their allies upon unarmed or
solitary men, women, and children.
So many women were injured in dislodging them from the caves that
Major Durnford, on his second return from the mountains, instituted a
hospital-tent where they might be attended to; but such humanity was
by no means the general rule.
If acts of barbarity were for the most part committed by the
irregular troops, there is one instance to the contrary which can
never be forgotten in connection with this affair—so flagrant a case
that the friends of the officer in command, when the story first
appeared in the colonial papers, refused to believe in it until it
was authenticated beyond a doubt.
A body of troops—infantry, irregular cavalry, and undisciplined
natives—upon one occasion during this expedition were engaged for
some hours in trying to dislodge a solitary native from a cave in
which he had taken refuge. The force had discovered the hiding-place
by the assistance of a little boy, whom they captured and induced to
betray his friends.
The “rebel” (in this case there was but one) refused to surrender,
and for a long while defended himself gallantly against the attacks
of the whole force. Shots were fired through the apertures of the
cave, rockets (a new and horrible experience to the poor creature)
were discharged upon him. At last, after holding out for some hours,
the man gave up the struggle, and coming out from his insufficient
shelter, begged for mercy at the hands of his numerous foe. He had a
good many wounds upon him, but none sufficiently severe to prevent
his walking out amongst his captors, and asking them to spare his
life. After a short consultation amongst the officers, a decision was
arrived at as to the proper treatment of this man, who had proved
himself a brave soldier and was now a helpless captive.
By order of the officer commanding, a trooper named Moodie put
his pistol to the prisoner’s head and blew out his brains. A
court-martial sat upon this officer in the course of the following
year, and he was acquitted of all blame. The defence was that the man
was so seriously injured that it was an act of humanity to put an
end to him, and that the officer dared not trust him in the hands of
the natives belonging to the English force, who were exasperated by
the long defence he had made. But the prisoner was not mortally nor
even dangerously wounded. He was able to walk and to speak, and had
no wound upon him which need necessarily have caused his death. And
as to the savage temper of the native force, there was no reason why
the prisoner should be left in their charge at all, as there was a
considerable white force present at the time.[18]
The result of the expedition against the Hlubi tribe was so little
satisfactory that those in authority felt themselves obliged to look
about for something else to do before taking the troops back to
Pietermaritzburg. They found what they wanted ready to their hand.
Next to Langalibalele’s location lay that of the well-to-do and quiet
little tribe of Putini. “Government” had as yet found no fault with
these people, and, secure in their own innocence, they had made no
attempt to get out of the way of the force which had come to destroy
their neighbours, but remained at home, herded their cattle, and
planted their crops as usual. Unfortunately, however, some marriages
had taken place between members of the two tribes, and when that
of Langalibalele fled, the wives of several of his men took refuge
in their fathers’ kraals in the next location. No further proof
was required of the complicity of Putini with Langalibalele, or of
the rebellious condition of the smaller tribe. Consequently it was
at once, as the natives term it, “eaten up,” falling an easy prey
owing to its unsuspecting state. The whole tribe—men, women, and
children—were taken prisoners and carried down to Pietermaritzburg,
their cattle and goods were confiscated, and their homes destroyed.
Several of the Putini men were killed, but there was very little
resistance, as they were wholly taken by surprise. The colony was
charmed with this success, and the spoils of the Putini people were
generally looked to to pay some of the expenses of the campaign.
Whatever may have been the gain to the Government, by orders of
which the cattle (the chief wealth of the tribe) were sold, it
was not long shared by the individual colonists who purchased the
animals. The pasture in that part of the country from which they had
come is of a very different description from any to be found in the
environs of Pietermaritzburg, and, in consequence of the change,
the captured cattle died off rapidly almost as soon as they changed
hands. But this was not all, for they had time, before they died, to
spread amongst the original cattle of their new owners two terrible
scourges, in the shape of “lung-sickness” and “red-water,” from which
the midland districts had long been free. One practical result of the
expedition of 1873 seems to be that neither meat, milk, nor butter
have ever again been so cheap in the colony as they were before that
date, the two latter articles being often unobtainable to this day.
The unhappy prisoners of both tribes were driven down like beasts to
Pietermaritzburg, many of the weaker dying from want and exposure
on the way. Although summer-time, it happened to be very wet, and
therefore cold; our native force had been allowed to strip the
unfortunates of all their possessions, even to their blankets and
the leather petticoats of the women. The sufferings of these poor
creatures—many of them with infants a few days old, or born on the
march down—were very great. A scheme was at first laid, by those in
authority, for “giving the women and children out” as servants for a
term of years—that is to say, for making temporary slaves of them to
the white colonists. This additional enormity was vetoed by the home
Government, but the fact remains that its perpetration was actually
contemplated by those entrusted with the government of the colony,
and especially of the natives, and was hailed by the colonists as
one of the advantages to accrue to them from the expedition of
1873. Several children were actually given out in the way referred
to before the order to the contrary arrived from England, and a
considerable time elapsed before they were all recovered by their
relatives.
The unhappy women and children of the Langalibalele tribe were mere
emaciated skeletons when they reached the various places where they
were to live under surveillance. They seemed crushed with misery,
utterly ignorant of the cause of their misfortunes, but silent and
uncomplaining. Many of the women had lost children—few knew whether
their male relatives were yet alive. On being questioned, they
knew nothing of Mr. Shepstone, not even his name, which was always
supposed to command the love and fear of natives throughout the
length and breadth of the land. They did not know what the tribe had
done to get into such trouble; they only knew that the soldiers had
come, and that they had run away and hidden themselves; that some of
them were dead, and the rest were ready to die too and have it all
over. A considerable number of these poor creatures were permitted
by Government to remain upon the Bishop’s land, where most of them
gradually regained health and spirits, but retained always the
longing for their own homes and people and their lost chief which
characterises them still.[19]