The Cape and the Kaffirs: A Diary of Five Years' Residence in Kaffirland

He must have received many wounds. His charger galloped past the troop without its rider; its trappings and saddle were covered with blood; while the savages bore off the mangled body of their victim, brandishing his sword on the top of the hill as they retreated. Captain Bambrick was forty-seven years of age, and had served his country more than thirty years.

As I have observed, Captain Bambrick’s troop formed part of a division, under Major Gibsone, left in charge of baggage and ammunition, while Colonel Somerset proceeded with the main body towards the wooded kloofs and steep ascents of the Amatola Mountains. Before proceeding in search of the plundered cattle to a hill overlooking “Sandilla’s drift,” Captain Bambrick received distinct orders from Major Gibsone “by no means to proceed to any distance.” The old soldier could not, or would not, understand a warfare which demanded such caution, dashed onwards, full of chivalry, utterly wasted on such a foe, and fell, as might be expected. It may be added, that, had he not fallen when he did, the whole troop would have become the victims of his noble but ill-timed daring.

Major Gibsone’s dispatch states further—“About seven o’clock, just as I had diminished the size of my camp, we were attacked by a considerable body of Kaffirs, whom we beat off in six or seven minutes, I am sorry to say, with the loss, of four men of the 91st killed, and four wounded.” On the 17th, Major Gibsone, in compliance with Colonel Somerset’s instructions, moved from Burn’s Hill, at half-past ten a.m. From the number of waggons (one hundred and twenty-five), and the necessity of giving a support to the guns, Major Gibsone was only enabled to form a front and rear baggage-guard, and could not detach any men along the line of waggons. After proceeding about a mile, shots issued from a kloof by the side of the road; Lieutenant Stokes, R.E., ran the gun up to a point some three hundred yards in advance, and raked the kloof with a shell. When half the waggons had passed, the Kaffirs made a dash upon one of them, firing at the drivers and some officers’ servants, who were obliged to fly; then took out the oxen, and wheeled the waggon across the river. An overpowering force then rushed down from the hills in all directions, keeping up an incessant fire, which was returned by the 7th Dragoon Guards and the 91st, with great spirit. The gun was also served with much skill; but, owing to the Kaffirs’ immense superiority in numbers, Major Gibsone, to prevent his men from being cut off, was obliged to return to Burn’s Hill, where he again put the troops in position. A short time after this, a company of the 91st, under Captain Scott, advanced in skirmishing order, keeping up a heavy fire; but the waggons completely blocking up the road, the troops were obliged to make a détour, and, after considerable difficulty, succeeded in getting the ammunition-waggons into a proper line, but found it quite impracticable to save the baggage-waggons, the Kaffirs having driven away the oxen. One of the ammunition-waggons broke down, but the ammunition was removed to another; the troops then fought their way, inch by inch, to the Tyumie Camp, where they were met by Colonel Somerset’s division, and where they again encamped for the night.

Colonel Somerset, in his dispatch, dated “Block Drift, 18th of April,” describes the Kaffirs as “assembling in a very large force on the heights above the troops, on the 17th, and, on arriving at the Tyumie Drift, the enemy pressed upon them at every point. Lieutenant Hill, R.A., got the gun into position, and made excellent practice into the dense bush along the river, the enemy pressing on, and opening a severe fire on our advance. Lieutenant Armstrong, with some Cape Mounted Rifles, then scoured the bush in all directions; the flanking-parties of the 91st kept up a strong fire on the enemy; and Colonel Richardson supported the rear in the most able and gallant manner. Major Campbell held the drift, while ammunition-waggons passed; Captain Browne’s guns taking up an admirable position, and doing great execution under a heavy fire.”

Thus, scarcely fifteen hundred men, not all regular troops, encumbered with a hundred and twenty-five waggons, made their way into the fastnesses of these savages, who were many thousands in number; and although unable to follow up the enemy, of whom they killed at least three hundred, succeeded in saving all their ammunition, captured eighteen hundred head of cattle, and finally fought their way to the original ground of dispute.

An old officer, in speaking of this affair of the “three days” in the Amatolas, informed me that neither he, nor those in the same division with himself, had had anything whatever to eat, from Thursday the 16th, at daylight, until Saturday night, the 18th, when they reached Block Drift; there, some biscuit was served out to them. My husband was not only without food during this period, but, having lost all his baggage, had nothing on for days after (night or day) but his shell jacket and white trousers. His horse was slightly grazed by a ball, which touched it between the saddle-flap and his canteen; fortunately, it must have struck something on its way. The Kaffirs invariably aim at the officers, believing that, in bringing down the leaders, the whole body will be made to give way.

The following officers were killed and wounded during these engagements; 7th Dragoon Guards—Captain Bambrick, killed; 91st—Lieutenant Cochrane wounded three times; Cape Mounted Rifles—Captain Sandes, murdered. Colonel Richardson and Captain Rawstorne, 91st, narrowly escaped wounds at least, both being struck by spent balls. Colonel Somerset had just dismounted from his charger, when the man who took it from him was shot dead, the animal escaping. Lieutenant O’Reilly had the trigger of his gun shot off; and Mr Bisset lost two horses not long after dismounting.

The loss of Captain Sandes, Cape Mounted Rifles, was much deplored. Being ordered to proceed with an express from Post Victoria to Colonel Somerset at Block Drift, on the 18th of April, he unfortunately started after the party, lost his way, returned to Victoria, was advised to wait until another mounted party should be likely to proceed, but faithful to his orders, determined on riding to Block Drift alone, which he did, and was brutally murdered! The Kaffirs themselves acknowledged that he fought desperately, cutting his way through two bodies of these wretches, of whom they admit he must have killed and injured eight or ten. The third body despatched him. So much for the Kaffir’s mild nature and generous sentiments! So much for his bravery! No man can be brave who does not appreciate bravery in others.

Among the slain, was afterwards discovered a soldier of the 91st, who had probably been burned to death by the savages, as his remains were found bound to the pole of a waggon, and horribly defaced by fire.

Dr Eddie, of the Cape Mounted Rifles, on going back with a party to endeavour to recover some of the Government property from the hospital waggon, found that it had been rifled of almost everything but the jar of blister ointment, which had been emptied of its contents—the ointment having been scooped out by Kaffir fingers.

It must be observed that, on the 15th of April, the very day on which Colonel Somerset assembled his small force on the Deba Flats, for the purpose of getting the troops into position before attacking the enemy in the Amatola Mountains, nothing was known in Graham’s Town of the operations of the troops in the field. Sir Peregrine Maitland, the Governor, who had arrived on the frontier a few days before, left Graham’s town for Post Victoria with only a small escort, and in total ignorance of Colonel Somerset’s proceedings, which every one knew must be regulated by circumstances, but which every one supposed would begin and end in a march through the ceded territory and back again “without seeing a Kaffir.”

I forgot to mention that Colonel Hare, the Lieutenant-Governor, had moved from Graham’s Town to Fort Beaufort, before issuing his proclamation against our savage neighbours, and on the 18th of April, went to Post Victoria to meet Sir Peregrine Maitland.

Colonel Hare returned to Beaufort the same evening in safety. Captain Sandes must have been murdered within a few miles of him; but fortunately no one crossed the path of the Lieutenant-Governor or his escort.

On Sunday, the 19th, some cattle were stolen from Post Victoria, in the very face of the troops and their General. The Kaffirs were followed, but had got into the bush with their booty before the troops could come up with them.

On the morning of the 18th, while General Maitland was on a reconnoitring expedition, he and his party came suddenly upon an ambush of Kaffirs; happily he had with him an escort of dragoons, who dashed after these savages. Had Sir Peregrine not been so attended, he, with his staff, would have been cut off.

A party of the 27th went out from Victoria to clear the bush of the Kaffirs. In the skirmish which ensued, a serjeant of the regiment being shot in the ankle, the savages rushed upon him and beat him to death with their knob-kiurries (war-clubs).

After the troops had taken up their position at Block Drift, they were joined by Sir P. Maitland, who immediately assumed the command, and superintended the defences.

But, while the troops were employed in the Amatola Mountains, Graham’s Town was utterly unprotected, and bodies of Kaffirs poured into the Colony. Then began the work of devastation, plunder, and murder. Alas! while our hearts were torn with anxiety for those dear to us in the field, we knew ourselves to be surrounded by savages who openly threatened to attack us! In all directions we heard the reports of musketry. Now, a murdered waggon-driver was brought in, and now, a Kaffir spy was shot close to the town; the townspeople of course exaggerating the one waggon-driver to five or six, and the spy to “thousands of Kaffirs.” On the 29th of April, Colonel Somerset arrived with his division. The sight of the troops winding down the hill towards Graham’s Town, cheered the drooping spirits of the inhabitants, and made many hearts beat with alternate hope and fear, for we knew not what intelligence they might bring, or what dangers they had encountered. Little, indeed, can they, who never experienced the horrors and anxieties of war, especially a war with savages, comprehend the feelings of those who wait for tidings of the absent. The weary watchings, the very dread of the arrival of expresses, bearing we know not what tidings, the feverish restlessness to see the printed dispatches of the day, the waiting for hours in uncertainty, and then the regret, amidst our thankfulness at so much being done, that there was yet so much to do. Ah! these are terrible hours. I especially remember the reading of the first dispatch—the wife of one in command of a division, which had not been engaged, but of which I shall have to speak hereafter, tearing open the papers with trembling fingers, while another and I leaned over her shoulder, and would see what she tried to read with a faltering voice. Children looked up alarmed at they knew not what, pausing in their play, and quite silent; while shots echoed along the hills and through the kloofs above the town, and the sky above and around us was lit with the fires from the devastated homesteads of the settlers. The very sight of the thousands of cattle and sheep being driven in at sunset by armed herds, was melancholy; and the panic-stricken inhabitants galloped hither and thither, endangering people’s lives and wearing out their horses, causing a stir and excitement equally useless and alarming. The appearance of the town on one Sabbath morning was wretched beyond description. The bell for prayers rang from our roofless church, the Independent Chapel being lent to us as a place of worship, while the church of the established religion was undergoing repairs. A crowd of Fingo and Hottentot picquets were assembling in the streets, groups of people stood about talking, and others passed on to the place of prayer with careworn faces. At every opening, the sappers and miners were busy blockading the streets, and parties of armed Burghers came galloping in with fresh tidings of ruin, murder, and devastation. The return of Colonel Somerset’s division probably checked the advance of the enemy upon the town, where the greatest fears had been entertained for the magazine, containing the gunpowder belonging to the merchants. It must be added, that the energies of those who were willing to join in the work of defence had been considerably damped by a disastrous circumstance, which had occurred during the absence of the troops in Kaffirland.

Mr Norden, a merchant, having been appointed to the temporary command of the Yeomanry Corps, which, it must be remembered, there had been but little time to organise, led his men out, on the 25th of April, to a valley a little beyond Graham’s Town, where it had been ascertained that a number of Kaffirs were lurking. He was a dashing, enterprising man, always ready to lead whenever a leader was wanting. On reaching a spot commanded by a krantz, or cliff, he divided his corps into two bodies, directing one to the right and the other to the left, with one of which he advanced towards a thick bush. On Mr Norden approaching a mass of rock, which served as an ambush for one of the savages, he was shot through the head, and fell dead. The wretch who shot him was immediately brought down by the musket of one of the Yeomanry; but others rushed on the murdered man, and dragged away the body. The Yeomanry Corps being thus divided, the numbers of the foe unknown, and the sun just setting, it was deemed imprudent to attempt the capture of Mr Norden’s remains from the Kaffirs at that moment. The following day, the body was observed placed in a conspicuous position on the krantz, probably as a decoy; and on Monday, the 27th, a large body of the inhabitants, a few of the Cape Corps, and a remnant of the 90th—in all amounting to about 200 men—headed by Colonel Johnstone, 27th Regiment, Commandant of the town, went out, and brought back the mangled body of the brave man whose life had been so miserably sacrificed. The bereaved family of Mr Norden must ever be looked on by the people of Graham’s Town with feelings of deep and grateful interest.

From the windows, we had seen the patriot winding up the hills; all eyes had followed him with interest; crowds assembled in the restless streets, to watch his progress; little thought they of the miserable result, or of the manner of his return,—dead, mutilated; stretched on a gun-carriage, with a cloak flung over him for a pall! That night, the air above us was thick with smoke, rising from the burning grass which the enemy had fired to destroy the pasturage for the cattle.

The providing the wives and children of officers with safe quarters was one of the first acts of the Lieutenant-Governor; and, although we were never under the apprehension of a serious attack on the barracks in which we were domiciled, it is pretty certain that, but for the preparations for defence, the outskirts of the town would have been destroyed. After the affairs at Block Drift, the Gaikas returned to the deep recesses of the Amatolas, and there informed their people that they had killed all the white men. The cry of “Victory!” rang through Kaffirland; the loss of our waggons, and the sight of the savages returning with their spoil, shouting their wild song of triumph, and bearing their trophies along with them, roused the tribes who had promised to “sit still;” and straightway the colony swarmed with these ferocious barbarians.

Sir Peregrine Maitland now armed an immense force. The defeat of the Kaffirs in the Amatolas, inspired us with hope, and for a while, daunted the enemy; but the Kaffirs were like vermin in the land,—as fast as they were hunted out of one corner, they rose up in another.

Chapter VI.

State of Graham’s Town

Everything in Africa is in extremes. The air is at one moment perfectly calm, the next wild with terrific storms. The sky so sweetly serene at noon, before half an hour passes is often darkened by clouds which shroud the land as with a pall. For months, the long droughts parch the earth, the rivers may be forded on foot, the flocks and herds pant for refreshing waters and green herbage. Suddenly, “a cloud no bigger than a man’s hand” appears on the horizon, and lo! the elements rage and swell, thunder booms upon the air, darkness covers the land, the arrows of the Almighty dart from the angry heavens, striking death and terror wheresoever they fall. From the far desert an overpowering torrent of sand comes sweeping on, obscuring the air, and making its way into your very house, in such profusion that you may trace characters in its dry-depths on the window-sill. The skies open, the floods descend, the rivers burst their bounds, trees are uprooted from the saturated earth, and through the roof of your dwelling the rain beats heavily, the walls crack, the plaster falls, the beams that support the thatch groan and creak with “melancholy moan,” the voices of angry spirits seem to howl and shout around you, the poor birds on frightened wing wheel past your windows, the cattle disturb you with their lowing, the dogs howl, and the unearthly tones of the Kaffir or Fingo herdsman’s song are no agreeable addition to the wild scene stirring before you. The tempest, however, subsides as suddenly as it arose, the voices of the storm-spirits die away in the distance over the mountain-tops, the dark pall of clouds is rent by a Mighty Hand, the swollen rivers rush on, bearing evidences of devastation, but subsiding at last into a more measured course; the sun lights up the valleys and the hill-sides, the air is clearer, the sky brighter than ever; and, but for the history of devastation and oftentimes of death, and the knowledge that for weeks the country will be subject to these violent convulsions of nature, the terrors of the tempest would soon be forgotten.

Such is the climate of South Africa. Lovely indeed it is for part of the year; for the rest experience is necessary to teach you whether it be agreeable or not. At one time of the day, I have known the thermometer 120 degrees; at sunset, it has been so cold that a fire has been necessary; nay, I have known it 92 degrees in a room with the air kept out at noon, and at six I have wanted a shawl, or cloak, during my walk. In the morning, you are scorched and blistered by the hot wind, while the vegetation is withering under your feet, and at night you must wrap yourself well up, and put your feet in shoes “impervious to the dew,” and yet experience shows that it is perfectly healthy.14

On the 25th of March we received a report in Graham’s Town, that the Kaffirs were pouring into the colony. It was afterwards ascertained that the Kaffirs were only awaiting our threatened blow as the signal for their work of devastation. They were well aware of all our movements, the numerical strength of our army, and the comparative security into which the farmers had been lulled by Sandilla’s message, or rather by the acceptance of that message; and we soon received evidence of the Kaffir’s proximity to Graham’s Town, by constant robberies of cattle, and skirmishes between themselves and the Fingo and Hottentot herds.

The 22nd of April was the first day of serious inconvenience to ourselves. Three of us, our husbands being with their divisions at different stations, were assembled with our children, as was our custom, to spend the evening together. How often had we paced the verandah, anxiously watching the lurid sky, red with the fires of devastation, and listening to the continued and heavy volleys of musketry between the herds and savages on the hills above us! We never permitted ourselves to think of an attack on the town; and, as the Kaffirs seldom risk their lives or spend their powder without a chance of plunder in return, we considered our lives safe, since the cattle could be swept away from the outskirts without venturing into the town. On the night of the 22nd, however, the frightened servants rushed into the sitting-room, exclaiming that the Kaffirs were sweeping down the hills in all directions; and that, as the house was roofed with shingles, it was likely it would be fired by the brand of the savages.

Behold us, then, preparing for our pilgrimage across the open, undefended square of the Drostdy ground15. But that we were full of anxieties for our husbands in the field, we should have laughed in the very face of apparent danger. Ill defended as the town was, we could not believe that the Kaffirs could have passed the picquets on the hills unnoticed, and accustomed to exaggerated reports, the cry of “Kaffirs!” was no longer so alarming to us personally as it might have been had we heard it before our terrors for the absent had deadened our thoughts of self. The cry was raised, however, and we were warned to seek the shelter of the new barracks, built of stone, and roofed with zinc.

The lady of the house roused one sleeping child from its bed, and dressed it hastily, but with perfect calmness, while her boy danced about and tumbled head over heels with delight at the prospect of “such fun!” The young ladies of the party, my own girl among them, collected what they considered most valuable, their books, work-boxes, trinkets, a guitar, a doll in a polka dress, a monkey, and their dogs; and the wife of one in command at Fort Peddie thrust money, jewels, and papers into a box, which she carried under her arm. Ere we were ready for the trek, the servants appeared with their “valuables,” the hoards and savings of many years. Oh, the confusion of tongues on that night, as we passed through the Square! Exclamations in Dutch, Irish, Fingo, broad Scotch, and provincial English, assailed us on all sides; children cried and laughed alternately, women screamed, Hottentots danced, and sang, and swore, the oxen attached to the waggons which had accompanied the 90th uttered frightful roars, and muskets were going off in all quarters of the town. Onwards we sped; there was sufficient light to see the tents of the 90th, who had only arrived the day before, standing up in regular order. We made direct for the line between the tents, when lo! they vanished; they were struck to the ground as if by magic, and lay as flat as linen on a bleaching-green. The young girls could not help laughing as they stumbled over the tent-pegs.

We reached the barrack-rooms appropriated to my use. If the air was “full of noises,” much more so was the house. In one room were officers loading pistols as merrily as if they were going pigeon-shooting; in the kitchens, the men-servants were unslinging the loaded muskets from the wall; and up and down the passage stalked dragoon soldiers, fully accoutred, and ready for the saddle at a moment’s notice, their horses standing in the yard, neighing with impatience; while we ladies, girls, and children, with three or four officers, sat waiting the result of the hubbub with the doors open; and the townspeople occasionally rushing in with affrighted faces. Had the Kaffirs been at all aware of their own strength, and our defenceless state, they might, with very little loss on their side, have burned and pillaged the town, murdered many of the inhabitants, and possessed themselves of the magazine. We had not two hundred soldiers, and most of these were of the 20th Regiment, who had just arrived from a ten years’ sojourn in Ceylon, and were therefore little fitted for active service. That the enemy meditated an attack, there is no doubt; but the reports of their advance proved exaggerated, and at midnight it was ascertained that they had swept off what cattle they could from the outskirts, and set fire to the neighbouring farms. We had very certain testimony of this from the windows, for the glare of these burning homesteads of the industrious settlers illumined the sky, and the hills all round were bright with wreaths of flame from the bush.

We were all too much excited to obtain much repose, and at daylight the next morning the warning bugles of the 90th gave note of preparation for their departure, with part of the 91st, for Fort Beaufort, with supplies and ammunition. Great doubts were entertained as to whether this long train of waggons, with its slender guard, would be permitted to pass unmolested through the Ecca Valley, twelve miles from Graham’s Town, the road winding along the edge of a precipice, and being commanded by a steep krantz. From this narrow road, where only one waggon at a time can pass with safety, you look down on a bush so dense that hundreds of savages might be concealed there; and, on the opposite side, tremendous mountains, fit haunts for the savage, or the wild beast, slope down, overshadowing the valley with awful gloom; while the mocking echoes give back the sharp slash of the waggoner’s whip, or the crack of the traveller’s rifle, with a strange precision.