Campaigning in Kaffirland; Or, Scenes and Adventures in the Kaffir War of 1851-52. William Ross King
preferred, as a hardy soldier-like sort of thing.
Here we were detained three days, unable to procure sufficient oxen for the baggage waggons, as in consequence of a long drought and scarcity of pasture the cattle had died off in hundreds, those that survived being in such a miserable plight that two could with difficulty do the work of one in ordinary condition.
The camp was besieged from morning to night by crowds of various races, Africanders, Hottentots, Malays, and Fingoes, as different in costume as in complexion; some gaily dressed in startling cottons, with gaudy douks or bandanas on their woolly heads; others with large brass skewers stuck Chinese fashion through their long black hair; some wrapped in a simple cowhide, or dirty blanket; and many with little encumbrance beyond their brass and copper ornaments, or the naked little niggers tied on their backs. Horses of all ages and descriptions, from unbroken colts to broken-down screws, and of all colours, from a "voss" to a "blue schimmel," were paraded for sale, and trotted up and down, spurred, "jambokked," and gingered all day long. As every officer required two animals, one for riding and another for his pack-saddle, the demand greatly increased the already high prices, and we had to pay at least double their ordinary value.
On the fourth day after landing, tents were struck at eight in the morning, and we marched through the long straggling street of Port Elizabeth, accompanied for some distance out of the town by a motley crowd, screaming and dancing round the band. A long train of about thirty lumbering waggons, each drawn by ten or fourteen of the largest bullocks we had ever seen; carrying immense and most inconvenient-looking horns, brought up the rear. Naked little "voorloupiers"[1] led the teams, which were driven by dwarf Hottentots flourishing enormous bamboo whips eighteen or twenty feet in length, the incessant cracking of which was like the report of so many pistols, as they descended with volleys of Dutch oaths on the backs of the unfortunate oxen answering to the names of Schwartlande, Bluberg, or Scotlande.
The country was most monotonous, and but for such features of novelty as strange shrubs and plants presented, uninteresting enough, being little more than a succession of bare sandy flats, and low hills sprinkled with bush, here and there a large salt-pan, and occasionally clumps of aloes and elephant tree,[2] a large bush with round fleshy leaves of an agreeable acid, the favourite food of the elephant, which only a few years back inhabited the whole of this district. The sun was scorching hot; clouds of fine sand, raised by the moving column, floated round, filling eyes and mouth; and altogether the men (judging from their remarks) appeared to entertain a very indifferent opinion of Africa.
After fourteen miles we came to the Zwartkop river, and crossing the drift or ford, encamped among the scattered mimosas, bristling with gigantic white thorns, on a piece of short, smooth grass, at the foot of a hill, completely covered with aloes, drawing up the waggons in line, and knee-haltering the horses, which were turned loose to feed with the oxen till dark.
A brilliant moon rose early, and we sat round a cheerful camp-fire, smoking our first pipe in what might be called the bush; the long lines of tents and white-topped waggons peeped from among the dark trees, bright fires encircled by red coats shone everywhere; the oxen tied to the yokes lay grouped together, the horses stood sleeping, the Hottentots scraped their fiddles and screeched under their waggons, and in the distance the sentinels paced up and down their beat; while above the general hum, rose every now and then the loud laugh and merry song, finishing occasionally with the mournful howl of a jackal.
Next morning, after ascending the steep winding road cut through a forest of large African aloes, we marched to Coega River, where, learning that there was no water to be had for the next twenty miles, we were obliged, on account of the oxen, to halt for the day. We had good sport at buck-shooting, and I got a beautiful tiger's skin from a native who had but just stripped it from the carcass of its late owner.
Owing to the general reluctance that had hitherto been displayed to turning out of bed in the middle of the night to march, we were aroused the following morning at one o'clock, by the effectual but not very agreeable mode, of pulling down the tents at the sound of a bugle, without the ceremony of asking those within whether they were prepared for a public appearance.
It was still bright moonlight when we fell in, and so bitterly cold that our half-frozen fingers and toes had hardly recovered their natural warmth when we halted for breakfast, after a five-miles walk in rear of the snail-paced waggons.
After two or three hours' grazing, the oxen were inspanned, and our march continued for fifteen miles through dense bush; the laborious track ankle deep in soft sand, and so narrow in places that the waggons could barely brush through, the men being obliged to march in file. The sun was by this time intensely hot, and we were without a drop of water to moisten our lips, which were swollen and blistered by the heat. Towards noon we came to a "poort," or natural hollow between high banks covered with aloe and dwarf euphorbia, the sand thickly incrusted with salt. The reflected heat of the sun was intolerable; not a breath of air was stirring; all around was still as death, and the atmosphere so stifling that many of the men were on the point of fainting, though a few hours before benumbed with cold. Shortly we came to a muddy stagnant pool, literally hot from the noontide sun: but so great were the sufferings of the troops, that they rushed almost into it, throwing themselves down by sections on the miry banks, and greedily drinking the fetid green water.
In the afternoon we pitched our tents on a burning plain; and never did I enjoy anything so much as a bathe that evening in the gloomy crocodile-suggesting-stream, called Sunday River, whose sluggish water, overhung by deep forest, scarcely moved the twigs that dipped into it. After this refresher, we all dined together at the little lonely inn; the rooms of which were covered, from the ceiling to the floor, with the skins of lions and tigers; shot, as the host assured us, "within sight of the house." During the night, my tent pole, which had already shown rickety symptoms, gave way from the overstraining of the canvass, tightened by the dew, and down came the wet tent on our faces, nearly smothering C——n, my companion in misfortune. We cut an odd figure in the moonlight, in our shirts and red woollen caps, creeping from under the fallen tent, and in that airy costume clearing away the wreck, turning in again between our blankets on the open plain; where, at the risk of being walked over by orderly officers and stray horses, we slept soundly until réveillé, when awaking, I found every article of clothing thoroughly saturated with dew; in spite of which, it was impossible to resist laughing at the autumnal appearance of my comrade, whose nightcap, hair, and eyebrows were heavily loaded with sparkling dewdrops.
After about an hour's marching, the sun rose, and we met a returning party of traders going down to the Bay with several waggon-loads of skins, escorted by about a score of naked Fingoes. In the forenoon we arrived at Commando Kraal, where was an encampment of Fingoe Levies, stationed at the entrance of the dangerous Addo-bush, in which, a short time previously, one or two rencounters with the Kaffirs had taken place. A small party of them joined us, armed with flint-locks and assegais, and dressed in the most grotesque manner possible.
This dense and beautiful bush extends for miles on every side; its solitary depths impassable except to Kaffirs and wild beasts, hundreds of which latter roam through it undisturbed. Tigers, hyænas, wild-cats, and jackals abound; and buffaloes and elephants are still occasionally seen, of which we had convincing evidence in the fresh spoor of three of the latter, whose enormous foot-prints were distinctly visible, and made one's heart beat with excitement at the idea of being in a country where such noble beasts roamed wild and unrestrained. The waggon track was in many parts very beautiful, sometimes so narrow that the overhanging trees, covered with festoons of grey pendant lichen, met above it; in others, opening out into smooth green lawn-like patches, surrounded by brilliantly flowered trees and shrubs (as the crimson boerboon,[3] and the yellow mimosa, with its gigantic milk-white thorns); everywhere clusters of the beautiful pale blue plumbago, with numberless aloes and occasional euphorbias, rising to the height of thirty feet; the underwood filled with the "stapelia," "gasteria," and other varieties of cactus. The heat of the sun was again most oppressive, shut in as we were between walls of bush,