The Matabele Campaign

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.

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.”

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.”

CHAPTER X

The Situation in Matabeleland and Mashonaland

16th June to 28th August

We open Communication with the Rebels in the Matopos regarding their Surrender – Rhodes commences the Peace Indabas – Imperial Troops arrive in Matabeleland – The State of Affairs in Matabeleland – I am on the Sick–List – Stout–Heartedness of the Rebels – Opinions on the Peace Negotiations – Our Supply Difficulties – The Origin of the Outbreak in Mashonaland – Difficulties of Supply in that Country – Early Defence Measures – The Relief of Salisbury by the Imperial Troops – Sir Frederick Carrington’s Task – What kit to take: I. On yourself; II. On your horse.

I said that when I left camp to come into Buluwayo, on the 10th, it seemed a good opportunity for accepting the surrender of the rebels, if they liked to come in. They had suffered a succession of severe blows, and, while still in a state of disruption consequent upon them, would probably be only to glad to surrender. But if they were left to themselves for a short time, they might reorganise their forces and continue to give endless trouble in the Matopos, which might mean a great deal more expense to us of time and men.

So, before leaving camp, I had made a few preliminary arrangements, in order that no time should be lost in opening communication with the rebels. We had, as a prisoner, Inyanda’s mother, and I sent her with a few men to the site of his kraal, which was close under the mountain where his people still hung out. There the men built a small hut for her, gave her a supply of corn and meat, and an old half–witted woman to grind the corn for her, and, hoisting a big white flag on the tree above her hut, they left her to be called for. As they came away, they shouted to the rebels up on the hill, telling them that if they wanted peace, they might come down and talk to the old lady, as she would give them all information about it.

It was necessary to do something of this kind to induce the natives to believe anything we said on the subject of peace; they were too suspicious of a trap if we went and tried to talk to them ourselves. This plan eventually succeeded; her people came down to talk to the old woman, took her away with them to consult with the chief, and finally sent messengers, carrying the white flag, to our camp, to say that they were ready to talk.

Unfortunately, I was not able to have any further say in the matter myself, as I was now down with dysentery, and on the sick–list. But, eventually, on the 22nd August, Cecil Rhodes, with Dr. Sauer and Captain Colenbrander, went into the Matopos to meet the rebel leaders, near the koppie where Kershaw was killed on the 5th.

Jan Grootboom, the native scout, was sent on into the hills to summon the indunas, and presently they appeared, following Grootboom, who carried the white flag at their head, with an air of immense importance. Among the chiefs were Umlugulu, Sikombo, Somabulana, Hliso, Manyoba, Malevu, Inyanda, Babyan, and over thirty other indunas. Rhodes sat on an ant–heap, with Dr. Sauer on his left, Colenbrander on his right, and Stent, of the Cape Times, just behind him.

Rhodes got up to salute the chiefs in their own language, and stood out in the centre to do so; all were in silence awaiting his opening word. He stood, and paused, and, smiling, had to turn and ask, “What is that word?”

[It was “Umhlope,” which is the usual salutation of peace after war.]

Somabulana then opened the indaba (conference), and, as spokesman for the Matabele, said that they had been driven to rebellion chiefly by the official bullying on the part of the Native Police. When he had done, Sikombo went on to charge five of the Native Commissioners with abuse of their powers. The chiefs wound up by saying they merely wanted justice, and would be glad to end the war. Rhodes promised there should be an alteration as regards the Native Police, and said that if they intended now to lay down their arms, their complaints would all be taken into consideration. Sikombo laid down his gun and assegai at Rhodes’ feet, and said that this indaba represented the nation “as its eyes and ears,” and that all they wanted was to live at peace with the whites. Then he was asked why it was that the Matabele, in breaking out, had exceeded the usual rules of war, and had murdered women and children? And he said it was because white men had been reported to be doing the same thing. It was then pointed out to the chiefs that nothing could be done unless they and all their people laid down their arms; and the chiefs agreed to bring all their people out of the hills within the next few days, and so that conference ended.

[P.S.– It was not till 13th October, after many further conferences, that a final settlement was come to.]

A squadron of the 7th Hussars now arrived at Buluwayo, under Major Ridley, having completed a long patrol through the Guai district, finally breaking up such small parties of rebels as remained there, and bringing about their general surrender.

The situation in Matabeleland now is as follows: —

The whole of the north of the country is clear and peaceful; in the south the rebels are treating for peace in the Matopos; but, in the east and north–east, bodies of them are still massed in the outlying districts. In the east, in the Belingwe district, about a hundred miles from Buluwayo, Wedza still remains in active rebellion, supported by various small chiefs occupying mountain strongholds. In the Selukwe district, just south of Gwelo, two chiefs, Monogola and Indema, still resist all efforts to reduce them. To the north–east of Gwelo, in the Maven district, at least one strong impi is collected; and the Somabula forest, north–west of Gwelo, and a hundred miles north–east of Buluwayo, is reported to be full of rebels. On the borders of this forest is the great grain district belonging to Uwini, who has several different tribes dependent on him for their supply and direction. Moreover, M’tini, who had been defeated in July at Taba–si–ka–Mamba, has retreated on to the Shangani, and now has his impi in full work there, under the orders of M’qwati, the local M’limo, and it maintains small posts on all the chief paths to prevent well–disposed natives from coming in to surrender or to take refuge with us.

Colonel Paget, with a column of Imperial troops (7th Hussars and Mounted Infantry), is moving through South Matabeleland, viâ Tuli and Victoria, to Gwelo.