THE FINAL OPERATIONS IN THE MATOPOS
_6th August to 10th August_
Patrol to the Back of Umlugulu’s Stronghold—We toy with the
Enemy—Capture their Cattle—Reconnaissance in the Matopos—Night March—Do
not speak to the Man at the Wheel—Delays in a Night March—The Penalty
of Non–Alertness in a Piquet—Mnyakavula’s Stronghold—More of Umlugulu’s
Cattle captured—Duels with the Enemy—Enemy serenade us in Camp—A chilly
Night—Hints to young Leaders.
_6th August._—It is a sad shock to sit in one’s little mess of half
a dozen comrades once more, and to find two of them are missing from
the meal. Poor Kershaw and Hervey! Now and then one is on the point of
calling to the usual sleeping–place of one or other of them to bid him
come and eat, when suddenly the grim, cold recollection strikes you—“He
is yonder—dead.”
Poor Hervey took his mortal wound as though it were but a cut finger,
yet knowing that he was fast passing away. Now and then he sent
for those 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.
His death is to me like the snatching away of a pleasing book half read.
And Kershaw was the very type of a cool, brave, energetic officer. His
loss to our little force is irreparable.
Colonel Plumer sent me to–day in command of a patrol of a hundred
mounted men, to go round by a new way to the back of the position
occupied by Umlugulu; to burn kraals, etc.; to ascertain whether the
rebels were still there, and if so, to show them that we were none
the worse for yesterday’s fight. As soon as we got round the end of
this mountain, we found numerous tracks of people going in there,
fresh that morning, and we could see smoke rising from several parts
of the stronghold; and presently the appearance of scouts on various
points of the ridge showed us that the rebels were still there. At one
point I climbed a small mountain to have a look round, while the men
dismounted, and rested their horses at the bottom. A few minutes after
I had started to go up, De Moleyns followed me. I did not know till
afterwards that we formed quite a little procession. First I came;
then came one Matabele, followed by a second, assisting him,—they were
stalking me from rock to rock; after the Matabele came De Moleyns,
similarly stalking them. Near the top I suddenly changed my course, and
came back unexpectedly on the flank of the two Matabele, who thereupon
took to their heels in another direction.
From my look–out place I could see a gorge leading into the mountains
at the back of Umlugulu’s stronghold; I accordingly mounted the men,
and proceeded warily, under cover of the bush, to this valley. On
arriving near the entrance of it, two or three of us dismounted, and
climbed to the top of a small koppie which commanded a view of the
stronghold. Here we could see a good number of Matabele collecting on
the heights as well as on the lower slopes. Taking a few mounted men,
we made a show of entering the valley, whereupon those of the enemy
who were on the heights proceeded to show themselves conspicuously,
evidently hoping to draw us on to attack them, while those in the
bottom of the valley took cover and concealed themselves in the bush to
form an ambuscade, to catch us on the one path which we should have to
follow. So we played with them for a bit.
Suddenly De Moleyns, who had been scouting farther along the range,
came galloping in, to tell us that a herd of cattle were being driven
in from the plains towards the mountain at racing pace. Leaving one
troop to keep the attention of the enemy engaged in the valley, I made
a dash with the remainder of the squadron to intercept the cattle. Such
a yelling from the women on the hill–tops, and counter–yelling from the
men in charge of the cattle! For some little time we could not see the
cattle, owing to the thickness of the bush, and fearing lest it might
only be a ruse to draw us on, I kept part of the squadron back as a
reserve; but this yelling of the ladies persuaded me that they were
really alarmed for their cattle, and when a bit of open ground showed
us that it was a good herd of mixed cattle and sheep, I saw that no
trap was intended, and that we really were on the track of their meat
supply. In a few minutes more, after an exciting race, our leading
troop succeeded in heading the cattle, just as they were entering a
small hidden gorge in the mountain, and we brought them triumphantly
away. Then, withdrawing the remainder of my force, which had continued
to toy with the enemy in the main valley, we made our way home.
This loss of their cattle had evidently violently enraged the rebels,
and they ran along the heights parallel to our march, calling us all
sorts of names and yelling dire threats. This practice of shouting
defiance and insult is very common with the Kaffirs; but their wit is
not, as a rule, of a brilliant order, and we can generally produce
something better on our side, which effectually silences the enemy. One
remark which never fails to make them squirm, and which we therefore
generally reserve for a telling “last word,” is the following pertinent
question:—“Why are your crops not sown yet? Are your prospects of a
harvest very gaudy, now that you are living shut up among the rocks
like ‘dassies’ (rock–rabbits), and dare not show your faces in the
fields?”
To–day, again, the enemy recognised me individually, and saluted me
with threats, yelling my name, “Impeesa,” with savage intensity.
As we should have to traverse a somewhat dangerous path before we
could arrive at our camp,—the same pass, in fact, in which Brand had
been attacked, and so nearly done for,—I sent on a message to Plumer,
asking for a few men to be sent there to cover our passage through it.
Meantime, as we went along, we destroyed seven of the enemy’s kraals,
and added to the picture by burning much of the long grass _en route_.
Although the enemy gathered in some numbers about the pass, having seen
that we were reinforced, they did not venture to attack us, and we got
back into camp all safely with our loot shortly after dark. The cattle
formed a very welcome addition to our commissariat.
_8th August._—I was sent to find a good road by which the column could
gain a commanding central position among the strongholds of the enemy.
I had with me Captain Coope and several of his scouts. We made our
way by various tracks and gorges to a koppie near to where Captain
Beresford had his fight on the 5th. From the top of this koppie we
were able to see the line of country the column would have to take; and
from it I could see the spot where the enemy’s piquet had laid their
trap for us in the fight of the 5th. Through my glasses I could see
that the piquet was still posted there, and that among their number was
a Cape Boy dressed in European clothes. While watching them, I noticed
ten Matabele sneaking down towards the foot of our koppie from another
direction, and we did all we could to entice them to come at us; but
they were too suspicious, and gave no chance to our hidden escort of
capturing them. So, having seen for ourselves all that we wanted, and
having taken the necessary bearings, we made our way back to camp.
That night reveillé was whispered at 11.30. It was a curious time for
reveillé, and utterly puzzled our cook; we had supped at seven, and it
was not time for morning coffee; however, Rose (Rose was not a clean
white–capped and aproned maid, but a horny–handed pioneer) was equal
to the occasion, and hatched us out some bovril in a pile of embers
(for no fires were allowed). Taking with us two days’ rations, we moved
off silently, on foot for the most part, only the scouts taking their
horses, and these, for the present, were led in rear of the column.
So silent was our departure that my two native trackers did not awake
to accompany us, and I presently found that the task of guiding fell
on my shoulders alone, which is all very well for a bit, but becomes
tiring when carried on for some hours; the strain of constant attention
is very great, and the want of trustworthy assistance to confer with at
doubtful points becomes much felt.
I was finding my way chiefly by the stars, and, during the first part
of the march, by our old spoor. But now and again men would come up
to advise me, with the comforting assurance that we were going wrong,
and would endeavour to put me on the right line,—one, indeed, had his
advice prevailed, would have taken us directly into a camp of the enemy.
Nothing is more distracting than such interruption, and nothing is more
calculated to make one really lose one’s bearings.
The maxim, “Do not speak to the man at the wheel,” should ever be
borne in mind, and acted up to, by those with a column who think they
know better than the guide. If they think that he is going wrong,
they should hold their tongues, but should also note every mark by
which they may find their way back on to the right line, should he
eventually have to confess himself lost.
But no interference with him should be allowed by word or move. This
applies equally by day as by night. Over and over again I have found
myself confused or harassed by amateur scouts and guides crowding on to
one, and sometimes even going ahead, talking and joking, not the least
recognising the state of mind of the man responsible for the direction
of the column.
However, we got along all right, over villainous ground; but the way
was not hard to find, because I had merely to follow our own spoor of
the morning, and this I did by feeling it through my thin–soled shoes,
rather than by finding it with my eyes, for which the night was very
dark.
The column came along in the following order: first, Coope’s troop of
scouts, then a squadron of the armed police, the corps of Cape Boys,
the screw–guns on mules, four squadrons of Plumer’s corps, followed by
the led horses of the scouts and the rearguard.
The pace, as is always the case in a night march, was exceedingly slow;
every small stream, or ridge of rocks, or piece of tangled bush caused
long delays, and the head of the column had continually to halt, or
to move at a very slow pace, in order to enable the rear to close up.
In Ashanti, where, similarly, we had to move in long strings in single
file, I have found it necessary to halt the head of the column for as
much as an hour after getting over a fallen tree with a small brook
alongside, so long did it take the column to get over the obstacle in
the dark and to close up to its proper distance again. Similarly, in
this case we came to a small rocky pass, of less than fifty yards,
which delayed us for an hour. Much of the delay was caused by horses
losing their footing and getting down among the rocks; the battery
mules, wonderful beasts that they are, came over without a mishap, but
the horses seemed perfectly helpless in the dark, and eventually got so
far behind that they lost touch with the column. The officer in charge
of them, finding himself hopelessly detached, made all snug for the
night, and eventually got back to camp in the early dawn. Luckily, my
orderly, Parsons, who had charge of my horse, and consequently of my
two days’ food, managed to keep touch with the column, as did also the
leaders of four or five other horses.
The difficulties of keeping up connection were increased by our
having to maintain absolute silence, and not showing lights of any
description. Close above our path we could see the smouldering
watch–fires of the enemy, and it speaks well for the order of the force
that it passed so near to them without arousing their suspicion.
At length, after struggling on through thorny bush and over broken,
hilly ground for six hours, we found ourselves, an hour before dawn,
at the foot of the ridge which commands this part of the Matopos. Here
we rested a while, hoping that the horses might rejoin us. I was but
lightly equipped for this night march,—a flannel shirt and breeches
well–ventilated by wear and tear; as long as we were moving, I was all
the better for it, but when it came to lying about in the chill of
the early morning, I began to feel the cold, and as I lay in the long
grass, I wrapped it round me to form a kind of blanket. As the dawn
came on, we proceeded to ascend the ridge by the narrow path along the
face of the cliff, which my party had taken in the fight of the 5th. We
approached the top with all precaution, and surrounded the spot where
we expected to find the Cape Boy and his piquet, but to our regret
we found they were not there; this evidently was their post by day,
whereas their night quarters were somewhere farther back. And shortly
afterwards we found them. There was a lively ten minutes between them
and our Cape Boys among the rocks, and just as we were about to send
reinforcements, our boys returned jubilant, having driven out the
Matabele, killing four and getting one of their number wounded,—the
bullet having struck his bandolier and glanced through his arm.
From our position on the top of the ridge we had a splendid view of
jumbled mountain–tops and rocky, bush–grown gorges stretching in every
direction,—a brutal country for military operations, but a splendid one
from a rebel’s point of view. The ridge itself forms a kind of backbone
or watershed through the mountains, and is passable throughout its
length for troops and mule–guns.
Passing round the scene of the fight of the 5th, we came to the
mountain which formed Mnyakavula’s stronghold, a place covered with
huts among the bush and boulders, and evidently full of caves. It
was practically deserted, but still one or two niggers were to be
seen about, so we fired a few shells into it to show there was no
ill–feeling, and then sent some Cape Boys to examine it and to destroy
the kraal. In going over it we found innumerable fresh blood–stains
about the rocks, showing where wounded men had been brought in, and in
two of the caves we found a number of dead bodies,—all showing how
heavily the garrison of even this one small stronghold had suffered on
the 5th.
Here we halted for breakfast, each of us boiling our own “billy,”
but having to share our eatables to a certain extent with those
unfortunates whose horses had been lost during the night.
Then we pushed on again towards Umlugulu’s stronghold, the same which
we had reconnoitred from the rear the day before yesterday. Here we
hoped to find some enemy, because this impi was one which took no real
part in the fight of the 5th, and had therefore not been broken up by
us. As we approached the place, we could see numbers of men gathering
both on the right and on the left of our mountain; dogs were barking to
the left, and women yelling. The guns were quickly unlimbered, and were
soon sending their shells crashing into the gullies of the opposite
mountain. A futile fire was returned, the distance was too great, and
presently the enemy could be seen creeping away by twos and threes to
safer and more distant retreats.
Once more my telescope did me a good turn. I saw a very
suspicious–looking stone deep down in the canyon below us. I aimed the
glass for it, and my heart jumped when I saw it was what I had hoped
for, a cow looking out of a hole in the rocks. I could then see that
there were others in the cave behind it, and, sending down a party of
Cape Boys, they soon were in possession of a herd of thirty head.
[Illustration: SHELLING THE ENEMY OUT OF THE MATOPOS
The artillery gun is called by English–speaking natives “the By–and–by,”
because after it has been fired there is a pause, and “by and by” the
shell arrives at its target. The 7–pounder mountain gun has proved most
useful from its portability and accuracy.]
Then I went on with three others to find a fresh position for the guns,
and to reconnoitre a neighbouring valley. We found a place for the
guns, and sat there admiring the view, while De Moleyns went off about
two hundred yards from us to find a way down between the rocks into the
valley. We saw him coming back towards us, and just as he got within
fifty yards, there was a yell, two shots, and De Moleyns, hatless, came
galloping in like mad. Some half a dozen Matabele were stalking up to
us among the rocks; he had come unexpectedly among them, and they had
missed him at about ten yards. We banged away at where we saw their
smoke, and they replied, but very soon their firing ceased, and we saw
them streaking away over the next hill. We then went to have a look at
this valley, and while studying the far side with our glasses, we saw a
number of Matabele creeping down to lie for us among the rocks. A very
pretty sight they were, lithe and active, bounding down from rock to
rock, their dark skins shining in the setting sun and showing off their
white war–ornaments. But we did not admire for very long, for, noting
that they seemed to gather in one particular spot among the rocks, we
put a few well–directed shots into it at 900 yards, and they quickly
scuttled out again and went back the way they came, one dropping in his
tracks to a shot from Coope. After this we stood up boldly on a rock to
admire the view at leisure, till suddenly there was a ragged volley and
the “phit–phit” of bullets overhead; these came from some niggers we
could not see, but we fired back at the koppie which we suspected, and
then gracefully retired to a less exposed position.
We took a circuit round and burnt a hut or two, and then went down to
the water in a bog about four hundred yards from the camp; here we
watered and grazed our horses, bathed ourselves, filled up our billies,
and cut a lot of grass to make our beds with on the hard rock platform
that was to form our bivouac for the night. Suddenly our peaceful
operations were interrupted by first one shot and then another fired up
at the camp. These shots were soon followed by a more regular rattle
of musketry, then came volleys in which the jolly Maxims joined, and
finally the solid bang of the 7–pounders swelled the chorus. We were
missing all the fun; we soon got mounted, gathered up our grass and
our billies, and made our way up to the camp.
What I call a camp is hardly what the ordinary mind would picture:
there are, of course, no tents or other such luxuries; the force is
merely formed in an extended square with guns and Maxims at each of the
corners, and where each man happens to stand in the ranks, there is his
place to cook his food, to eat, and to spread his blanket for the night.
The spot we were camped on was a huge, open, flat rock, closely
approached on three sides by broken rocks and bush, and in this broken
ground a small but daring party of the enemy had crept up and were
endeavouring to exact satisfaction for the loss of their cattle. It
was curious to see how calmly the men in the square took it all; only
that side of the square on which the enemy appeared bothered themselves
to notice him, the other three sides went on with their cooking and
suppers just as if the bullets whizzing over their heads were swallows
flying through the air at sunset. After five or ten minutes the enemy
retired and the firing died away. Half an hour later, just after dark,
it suddenly broke out again; the enemy had crept up once more within
fifty yards, and were firing at our fires. They seemed to become
accustomed to the fire of the Maxims, but when we let them have it
with the 7–pounder, loaded with case, at fifty yards, they did not like
it, and when the Cape Boys made a sortie round their flank, they fled
for good, leaving four dead on the ground; but as they went, they found
time to shout “good–night” to us, telling us to sleep well, since that
night would be our last—they “would have our livers fried for breakfast
in the morning.”
[Illustration: A COMFORTABLE CORNER ON AN UNCOMFORTABLE EVENING
When the enemy opened fire on our camp in the evening, it was very
refreshing to see how quietly the men took it. Only those belonging to
the face of the square that was being fired at took any practical notice
of it. The remainder went on cooking and eating as if nothing were
happening.]
This was not quite the last we had of them that night, for a party
went down with an escort to get water at the bog, but there they met
with a pretty warm reception, and soon came back to camp swearing,
with water–bottles empty, but luckily with no one killed. Then we
coiled down to sleep, and did pretty well till midnight, when a storm
of wind arose, accompanied by thunder and a sprinkling of rain, and we
got the full benefit of it in our exposed position. Personally, I was
very comfortable in my bed of broom–bush and grass, with my saddle as
a protection against the wind, so that I did not feel the cold to the
extent that some poor fellows did.
_10th August._—We hoped to be attacked at daybreak, but it never came,
and as we marched back during the day, we never saw another nigger.
They had cleared out altogether, and we got back to our standing camp
outside the hills about midday.
And then I rode thirty miles into Buluwayo during the night, in order
to report to the General that the enemy in the Matopos were now
completely broken up, and probably willing to surrender if we gave them
a chance.
_12th August._—Instead of starting for grouse–shooting or any other
form of shooting, I am, on the contrary, settling down to office work
to–day, but I find it more irksome than usual, as I have a slight
touch of fever and dysentery, and a certain feeling of over–tiredness
which keeps me lying up during my spare moments, and yet I don’t feel
inclined to sleep at all; and I find my temper a little short to–day,
as the following extract of a letter which I have sent to one of the
patrolling column will show:—
“If you want to catch the niggers, you will have to move more quickly
and more secretly, that is, by night. It is no time now to save horses,
but to make use of their condition; do not think that because you
cannot see an enemy, there is no enemy there. We had our laager fired
into three times the other night when there was not an enemy to be
seen, so take care that your laager is guarded, and do not leave it to
chance. If you let the men smoke on a night march, you might as well
let the band play too.”