CHAPTER II
STATE OF AFFAIRS IN MATABELELAND
Buluwayo--Too many Heads may spoil the Campaign--The Situation--Origin of
the Rebellion--The Power of the M'limo--The Outbreak of Rebellion--Defence
Measures and Rescue Patrols--Native Police--Sorties from Buluwayo inflict
Blows on the Enemy--MacFarlane's Attack relieves the Pressure on the
Town--Plumer's Relief Force continues the driving back of the Enemy--Sir
Frederick Carrington's Plan of Campaign.
_3rd June._--Unpacked ourselves at 1 a. m. from our lairs in the corners
of the coach, with something akin to regret at leaving the old thing
after ten days and nights in her. But it _was_ a blessing to bed down
in a house, and the bath on waking was worth gold. (Bathroom was the
verandah in the main street.)
Our lodging was next door to the club buildings, now used as a
barrack for Grey's Scouts, and defended with a small bastion of tin
biscuit-cases and sacks filled with earth. By breakfast-time I had
investigated Buluwayo.
A red earth flat laid out by ditches, in blocks and streets, over two
miles long and half a mile wide. The centre portion of the town well
filled with buildings, all single-storeyed, some brick, some tin, some
"paper" (_i.e._ wire-wove, ready-made in England, sent out in pieces),
all with verandahs. The more outlying blocks only boasting a house
or shanty here and there. Most of the houses built with a view to
ultimate extension; _e.g._ one consisted of, evidently, the scullery,
back kitchen, and "offices," the front to be added later, when better
times came round. The gardens, streets, and vacant lots richly sown
with broken bottles, meat tins, rags, and paper; scarcely a garden,
shrub, or tree in th place. The houses generally, if they are not
"Bottle stores" (_i.e._ public-houses), are either dry-goods stores or
mining syndicate offices. Everywhere enterprise and rough elements of
civilisation,--not forgetting the liquor branch.
Half a mile southward of the town lies a bush-covered rising ground, on
which are a good number of "villas," with their two or three acres of
bush fenced in to form their gardens in the future. At present they are
deserted, the owners living in town while the Matabele are about.
In the centre of the town is the market square with its market house--a
big brick building which is now used as the main refuge and defence of
the town. Round the market house is drawn up a rectangular laager of
waggons, built up with sacks full of earth to form a bullet-proof wall.
Outside the laager the ground for twenty or thirty yards is rendered
impassable by means of "entanglements" of barbed wire and a fence of
the same, as well as by a thick sprinkling of broken bottles all over
the ground itself.
Up on the roof of the hall is a look-out turret, from which, by
touching a button, an observer can at will fire any of the electric
mines which have been laid in the various approaches to the market
square.
Although most of the people who have houses in Buluwayo are now living
in their homes again, there are numbers of families from suburban or
outlying farms who are still living in the laager. And at the western
end of the town is another smaller laager of waggons round a house, in
which a number of Boer farmers, with their families, are living.
We had a very nice house "commandeered" (_i.e._ taken over by
Government at a fair rental), and handed over to us for our use as a
dwelling-house, ready supplied with furniture, etc.; and then the
offices of one of the gold-mining companies were similarly commandeered
and assigned to us for offices. In a very short time we had settled
down and were hard at work--and there was lots to do.
Of course our first business was to interview all the heads of affairs,
and so to form an idea of the situation.
Sir Richard Martin (with whom I had served previously, when on the
mission to Swaziland, under Sir F. de Winton) is Deputy Commissioner,
appointed since Jameson's raid to regulate the use and moves of the
armed forces in the Chartered Company's territories, so as to prevent
any further adventurous departures on their part. Lord Grey is
Administrator of the Government of the whole country of Rhodesia, which
includes Matabeleland and Mashonaland, etc.--a tract of country 750,000
square miles in extent, or equal to Spain, France, and Italy together.
Mr. Cecil Rhodes, while bearing no official position, practically
represents the management of the country as well as of the Company,
and his advice and experience are of the greatest value, since all the
other "heads" are new arrivals in the country. And it is in this number
of heads that our danger would apparently, and our difficulty will
most certainly be. Virtually, of course, the General is _the_ head
while active operations are in progress, but he has to cut his cloth
according to the style approved by the Deputy Commissioner, according
to the expense sanctioned by the Administrator, and according to the
general design required by the High Commissioner, while not totally
disregarding the local experience of Mr. Rhodes and others. Altogether,
the principle of strategy, which directs that "the General in command
should merely have his objective pointed out to him, and a free hand
given him," seems to be pretty well trenched upon by the present
arrangement, though, under the circumstances, it could not well be
helped. This, however, has always been the case in the history of South
African warfare,--frequently with fatal results,--so it is nothing new:
the only thing is to make the best of it, and pull together as much as
possible.
And this is what we find is the situation of affairs.
Matabeleland had been captured by the Chartered Company's troops,
acting from Mashonaland, in 1893, and Lobengula driven to his death
as a fugitive. Since then the country had been governed by the
Administrator and his magistrates and native commissioners in the
various districts into which the country was divided.
By 1896 the white population had increased to nearly four thousand,
guarded by an armed police force distributed about the country. At the
end of 1895 the greater part of this police was taken from Rhodesia, in
order to take part in Jameson's raid into the Transvaal.
Just about the same time the terrible scourge of rinderpest came down
upon the land. Three years before, it had made a start in Somaliland,
and had steadily and persistently worked its way down the continent
of Africa--and it now crossed the mighty barrier of the Zambesi, and
was sweeping over the great cattle-country, Matabeleland. With a view
to checking its ravages, the Government took all possible steps for
preventing the transmission of infection, and, amongst others, that of
slaughtering sound cattle was adopted. This procedure was perfectly
incomprehensible to the native mind, and before long it was mooted
among them that the white man's idea in slaughtering the cattle was to
reduce the native to the lowest straits, and to starve him to death.
The natives had only been very partially beaten in the war in 1893, and
the memory of it rankled strongly in their mind. They had thought the
war was merely a passing raid, and it was only now they were realising
that the whites had come to stay, and to oust them from their land.
They were only waiting for their opportunity to rise and drive out
their invaders.
Then, ever since the war, there had been a partial drought over
the land, and what little crops there were had been devoured by
unprecedented flights of locusts. All these misfortunes tended to
spread among the people a general feeling of sullen discontent.
And this was increased to a feeling of bitter resentment against the
whites, because they, the Matabele, found that the one remedy for want
which in the old days they had been wont to ply so readily--namely,
the wholesale raiding of their weaker neighbours--was under the new
regime denied them. Nowadays, not only was every such raid prevented
or punished as unlawful, but even in their home life their liberties
were interfered with, and trifling thefts of cattle from a neighbour's
herd, or the quiet putting away of a lazy slave or of a quarrelsome
stepmother, were now treated as crimes by policemen of their own blood
and colour, but creatures of the white man, strutting among them with
as much consequence and power as any of the royal indunas.
These things developed their hatred against the whites, and served
as plausible reasons for their conduct when the chiefs came to be
questioned later on in giving in their surrender.
Meanwhile, the chiefs and headmen, hoping to get back their ancient
powers, fomented this feeling for all that they were worth. And they
had a ductile mass to handle, for to the vast majority of their people
the question of rights and wrongs was an unknown quantity, but the lust
of blood--especially blood of white men, when, as they anticipated,
it could be got with little danger to themselves--was an irresistible
incentive.
The withdrawal of the armed forces from the country for the Transvaal
raid gave them their opportunity.
The Matabele have no regular religion beyond a reverence for the souls
of ancestors, and for an oracle-deity adopted from the Mashonas, whom
they call the M'limo. The M'limo is an invisible god, who has three
priests about the country, one in the north-east beyond Inyati, one
in the south in the Matopo hills, and one south-west near Mangwe. The
pure-bred Matabele, as well as the aboriginal natives, the Makalakas
and the Maholis, all go to consult these priests of the M'limo as
oracles, and place a blind belief in all they say. In addition to
the three high priests, there are four warrior-chiefs of the M'limo.
These men working in with the priests brought about the outbreak
of rebellion. Three of these warrior-indunas are Matabele, the
fourth--Uwini--heads the Makalakas.
Choosing well their opportunity, when, as they thought, all the white
fighting men had left the country, and none but women, children, and
dotards were left behind, they spread the message through the land--with
that speed which only native messages can take. They called on all
the tribes to arm themselves, and to assemble on a certain moon round
three sides of Buluwayo. The town was to be rushed in the night, and
the whites to be slaughtered without quarter to any. The road to Mangwe
was to be left conspicuously open, so that any whites who might escape
their notice would take the hint and fly from the country. Buluwayo
was not to be destroyed, as it would serve again as the royal kraal
for Lobengula, who had returned to life again. After the slaughter at
Buluwayo the army would break up into smaller impis, and go about the
land to kill all outlying farmers and to loot their farms. The M'limo
further promised that the white men's bullets would, in their flight,
be changed to water, and their cannon-shells would similarly turn into
eggs.
The plan was not a bad one, but in one important particular it
miscarried, and so lost to the Kafirs the very good chance they had of
wiping out the white men.
About 24th March the outbreak began--but prematurely. In their eagerness
for blood some bands of rebels, acting contrary to their instructions,
worked their wicked will on outlying settlers and prospectors before
attempting the night surprise on Buluwayo. _That_ was their mistake--it
gave the alarm to the whites in town and enabled them to prepare their
defence in good time.
Among the Insiza Hills, some thirty-five miles east of Buluwayo, on
that fateful day, seven white men with their coloured servants were
butchered at Edkins Store, and at the Nellie Reef Maddocks a miner was
murdered, while a few miles farther on a peaceable farming family were
brutally done to death. The white-haired old grandfather, the mother,
two grown-up girls, a boy, and three little yellow-haired children--all
bashed and mangled.
At another place a bride, just out from the peace and civilisation of
home, had her happy dream suddenly wrecked by a rush of savages into
the farmstead. Her husband was struck down, but she managed to escape
to the next farm, some four miles distant--only to find its occupants
already fled. Ignorant of the country and of the people, the poor girl
gathered together what tinned food she could carry, and, making her way
to the river, she made herself a grassy nest among the rocks, where
she hoped to escape detection. For a few terrible days and nights she
existed there, till the Matabele came upon her tracks, and shortly
stoned her to death--another added to their tale of over a hundred and
fifty victims within a week.
The only comfort is that their gruesome fate saved many other lives,
for the news spread fast, and as more reports from every side came in
of murdered whites, those in Buluwayo realised that the rising was
a general one, and merciless. They promptly took their measures for
defence.
The laagers were formed, as I have described, to accommodate the seven
hundred women and children in the place; while the eight hundred men
were organised in troops, and armed and horsed in an incredibly short
space of time.
Patrols were promptly sent out to bring in outlying farmers, and to
gather information as to the rebels' moves and numbers.
Ere long the rebel forces were closing round Buluwayo. North, east,
and south they lay, to the number of seven thousand at the least.
Throughout the country their numbers must have been but little under
ten to thirteen thousand.
Nearly two thousand of them were armed with Martini-Henry rifles. A
hundred of the Native Police deserted, and joined them with their
Winchester repeaters. Many of them owned Lee-Metfords, illicitly
bought, stolen, or received in return for showing gold-reefs to
unscrupulous prospectors. And numbers of them owned old obsolete
elephant guns, Tower muskets, and blunderbusses. So that in addition to
their national armament of assegais, knobkerries, and battle-axes, the
rebels were well supplied with firearms and also with ammunition.
In saying that the Native Police deserted and joined the rebels, I
must in justice add that it was chiefly the younger members of the
force who did so: the old hands remained loyal, and though at first
they were disarmed as a precautionary measure, they proved most useful
to our side later on, though very few in numbers. Much has been said
against them as having been the cause of the revolt, through their
overbearing conduct. I am perfectly convinced that the rebellion would
have occurred just the same had there been no such body as the Native
Police in existence. At the same time, I don't mean to say that they
did not abuse their powers. I should think that they most probably
did, but that is no reason why they should incontinently be done away
with. I don't see, for one thing, how proper government of the natives
is going to be carried out without a native police: the only thing is
that the force must be very closely and effectively commanded. The same
difficulty has been encountered, and has thus been dealt with, by us
in Natal, in India, in West Africa, everywhere, in fact, where natives
form a large proportion of the population.
But I am wandering from my point into discussion and argument, which
are not in my line. I am supposed to be giving you a resume of what had
been happening up to the time of Sir Frederick's taking over command in
Matabeleland.
Directly after the outbreak, Colonel Napier, with his usual energy,
lost no time in getting together a few men, and, with a party of sixty,
he went off to the Shangani, thirty miles north-east of Buluwayo, and
brought into safety over forty white settlers.
At the same time, Captain the Hon. Maurice Gifford, with forty-four
men, made a dash to Cumming's Store, through difficult country in the
Insiza Hills, fifty miles east of Buluwayo, and rescued over thirty
people, losing one man killed and six wounded.
Captain F. C. Selous raised a troop of forty mounted men the same day,
and made a bold reconnaissance southward of Buluwayo for thirty miles,
to the Matopos.
Three days later (29th March), Captain MacFarlane, with thirty men,
went out to Jenkins' Store, and relieved Pittendrigh's party, who were
hard pressed there. One man was killed and two wounded in this affair.
On the 4th April, Maurice Gifford again went out, with 140 men, to
Fonsecas, just north of Buluwayo, where he was hotly attacked by the
enemy, losing four men killed and seven wounded. He himself lost his
arm on this occasion, and Captain Lumsden, who took his place, was
mortally wounded. MacFarlane, with sixty men, relieved him.
Brand and Niekerk took a strong patrol down to the mining camp in the
Gwanda district, to find the miners had already safely got away south.
On their return journey this patrol was attacked and very nearly cut
off in passing through the eastern end of the Matopos. Out of their
total of a hundred they lost five killed and fifteen wounded besides
thirty horses killed; but with sheer hard fighting they got through in
the end.
Then, when the enemy closed on Buluwayo, as if to swamp it, Bissett
led the garrison out in a sortie on 22nd April. There was a stubborn
fight, in which neither side gained any ultimate decisive advantage,
but it was remarkable for the fact that perhaps in no fight in history
have there been so many deeds of gallantry performed among so small a
body of men. No less than three men have since been recommended for the
Victoria Cross for separate acts of heroism in this fight.
Three days later, Captain "Mickey" MacFarlane--an old friend of ours
in the 9th Lancers--again led out the Buluwayo Field Force, and this
time dealt the enemy a very heavy blow, such as changed the aspect
of affairs, and relieved Buluwayo from any immediate danger of being
rushed.
In these early fights and patrols the Buluwayo Force had lost twenty
men killed and fifty wounded, while over two hundred settlers in
surrounding districts had been murdered. Meanwhile, a relief force
was being organised at Salisbury in Mashonaland, three hundred miles
to the north, under Colonel Beal, and another at Kimberley and
Mafeking, nearly six hundred miles to the south, under Colonel Plumer
of the York and Lancaster Regiment. In the last week in May these two
forces appeared in the neighbourhood of Buluwayo from their opposite
directions, Cecil Rhodes arriving with that from the north; Lord Grey
arriving about the same time as Colonel Plumer's from the south.
[Illustration: GOING OUT FOR A FIGHT
Grey's Scouts riding out of Buluwayo to "have a shy" at the enemy.]
Meanwhile, Colonel Napier, with the bulk of the Buluwayo Force, had
gone out to meet the Salisbury Force, and in combination with it did
much to clear the country east of Buluwayo.
[_P.S._--A most interesting detailed account of the outbreak, and of
these early operations--including the acts of individual gallantry on
the part of Baxter, Crewe, Henderson, Grey, and others--will be found in
Captain F. C. Selous' book, _Sunshine and Storm in Rhodesia_.]
Colonel Plumer had raised, organised, and equipped his force of eight
hundred Cape Colony men and horses in an incredibly short space of
time; but that is one beauty of South Africa--that it teems with good
material for forming a fighting force at a moment's notice. Nor did the
"M.R.F." (Matabele Relief Force), as Plumer's corps was styled, lose
any time in getting to work after its arrival at Buluwayo. For three
days (23rd-26th May) it was hammering at the various impis threatening
Buluwayo on the north and east with complete success.
Thus, when we arrived a week later, we found that the immediate
neighbourhood of Buluwayo had been cleared of enemy, but the impis were
still hanging about in the offing, and required to be further broken up.
The General's plan, accordingly, was to send out three strong columns
simultaneously to the north-east, north, and north-west, for a distance
of some sixty to eighty miles, to clear that country of rebels, and
to plant forts which should prevent their reassembly at their centres
there, and would afford protection to those natives who were disposed
to be friendly. The southern part of the country, namely, the Matopo
Hills, was afterwards to be tackled by the combined forces on their
return from the north. Such was the situation in the beginning of June.
And now I'll continue the diary.
CHAPTER III
OUR WORK AT BULUWAYO
Organisation of Supply and Transport--The Volunteer Troops--Experiences
on Patrol--Sir Charles Metcalfe reports the Enemy just outside the
Town--The first sight of the Enemy--Fight on the Umgusa River, 6th
June--Maurice Gifford--Reconnaissance of the Inugu Stronghold--Burnham the
Scout--Rebellion breaks out in Mashonaland--The Difficulties of Supply--The
Humours of Official Correspondence--Colonel Spreckley writ down an
Ass--Colonials would serve under Sir Frederick Carrington, but not under
the ordinary Imperial Officer.
_4th June._--Office work from early morning till late at night. To say
there is plenty of work to be done does not describe the mountain
looming before us. The more we investigate into such questions as the
force and strong points of the enemy, and the resources at our command
wherewith to tackle him, the more huge and hopeless seems the problem.
Our force is far too small adequately to cope with so numerous and
fairly well-armed an enemy, with well-nigh impregnable strongholds
to fall back on, and with his supply and transport train ample and
effective--as furnished by his wives and children.
Our force, bold as it is, is far too small, and yet we cannot increase
it by a man, for the simple reason that if we did, we could not find
the wherewithal to feed it. There is practically no reserve of food in
the country, rinderpest has suddenly destroyed the means of bringing
it, and here we lie, separated from the railway by a sandy road 587
miles in length!
Nor on the spot has any adequate provision been made to meet the future
wants of the small force we have. All the food-stuffs in the place have
been brought together, and the commissariat organisation and system
has so far amounted to showing to an officer requiring rations for his
troop a pile of stores, with "There you are! Take what you want."
One of the first steps has been to telegraph for Colonel Bridge, who
had been left at Mafeking, to come and organise a system of transport
and supply. Then we have to make a medical staff and an ordnance
department.
In the meantime three columns are being organised, and such provision
as is possible is being made for their supply for patrols of about
three weeks' duration, to the northward of Buluwayo. And we hope to
start them off to-morrow.
During the brief intervals from office work for breakfast, lunch,
and dinner, one has most interesting glimpses of the sunny street,
crowded with throngs of "swashbucklers," each man more picturesque than
his neighbour. Cowboy hat, with puggree of the colour of his corps,
short-sleeved canvas shirt, cord breeches, and puttees, with bandolier
across his chest, and pistol on his hip, is approximately the kit of
every man you meet. The strong brown arms and sunburnt faces, the bold
and springy gait, all show them soldiers, ready-made and ripe for any
kind of work. Good shots and riders, and very much at home upon the
veldt, no wonder that they form a "useful" crew--especially when led, as
they are, by men of their own kidney.
Among the leaders are Micky MacFarlane, erstwhile the dandy lancer,
now a bearded buccaneer and good soldier all the time; Selous, the
famous hunter-pioneer of Matabeleland; Napier and Spreckley, the
light-hearted blade, who is nevertheless possessed of profound and
business-like capacity; Beal, Laing, and Robertson, cool, level-headed
Scotsmen with a military training; George Grey, "Charlie" White, and
Maurice Gifford, for whom rough miners and impetuous cowboys work like
well-broken hounds.
Indeed, the Volunteer troops seem to have thoroughly adapted themselves
to the routine of soldiering, as well as to the more exciting demands
of the field of action.
Night guards, daily standing to arms before sunrise, patrols, and other
uncongenial duties are all carried out with greatest regularity; but
the following amusing account of a morning patrol--which appeared in the
_Matabele Times_ this week--shows some of the drawbacks under which they
carry on their work:--
"Standing to arms at 4 a. m. is not in itself a joy, but its cruelty is
accentuated when the troop orderly takes that opportunity of informing
you that you are to leave the laager at 5.30 and go on patrol to
Matabele Wilson's, in company of three other unfortunates, for the
purpose of ascertaining whether the road be clear travelling.
"On the occasion of which I write this was my fate, and our little
party, with noses that needed constant attention with a handkerchief,
and numbed fingers clasping cold rifles, stood shivering outside the
stable gates, viewing life despondently and swearing at the remount
staff. All things, pleasant and otherwise, have an end, and at last,
in response to frequent knocks, the gate opened, and we followed
a depressed-looking official to where four alleged horses, with
drooping heads and downcast mien, disconsolately champed the half-ton
of rusty iron which South Africans call a bit, and dreamed of oats.
Each man chose a horse, and with the assistance of sundry stable-boys
induced him to leave his empty manger and move wearily out into the
street. Here great care was necessary in mounting, as it was yet to
be ascertained whether the crocks could stand up straight under the
weight of a rider, but at last we fell in, and by dint of spur and rein
reached the laager.
"The corporal in charge of the patrol then went to wake up the orderly
officer and get his orders, and my horse edged sideways towards the
windmill; he wanted something to lean against. By and by out comes the
corporal, we awakened our mounts, and started. 'Our orders are to go
out to Wilson's and meet a patrol from the Khami River, then return to
town,' and 'You're not to gallop all the way,' added the corporal. We
at once said we wouldn't, and just then one of the horses fell down in
endeavouring to step over a gutter. We dismounted and put the turn-out
on its feet again, and proceeded.
"Just past the Dutch laager some one said, 'By Jove, the laager smells
peculiar.' Another man said, 'Yes; the big laager is just the same.'
We passed a bush and struck the source of the odour, a dead ox; and
promptly apologised to the laagers.
"All went well for a mile or so, and the corporal says, 'Let's have a
trot.' We rammed in the spurs and shook the reins; one horse started
a feeble lolloping trot which he maintained for at least twenty yards
before he fell down; two horses shook their heads and whisked their
tails, but took no further notice of the appeal for more speed; and the
fourth, a grey, with fine prominent points, stopped dead short. We all
passed a few remarks about the gentlemen who had selected the horses
for duty, and resumed our wonted 'crawl march.'
"More rinderpest, and my horse made a movement as if to lean against
the smell, but it was too strong for him, and he moved on, to prevent
being knocked over. On passing dead horses and cattle we used to draw
in a long breath and endeavour to spur up a trot that would carry us
out of range, before we were again compelled to breathe or 'bust,' but
our horses used generally to land us in the middle of the stink and
then pull up. You would see a man get black in the face trying to hold
his breath, and at last have to burst out and refill his lungs with the
very richest of the odour.
"Passing the remains of the kraal where the transport riders, Potgieter
and his mate, were murdered, we saw the heaps of earth piled over the
victims' bodies. Here one of our number dismounted to light his pipe.
This was the last we saw of him; he never caught up, though we only
walked our horses; and he finally rolled up at the fort, half an hour
after we had arrived, on foot, having tied his horse on to a tree.
He said he found it considerably easier walking. Dawson's Fort is
splendidly placed, and commands a fine view of the surrounding country;
the walls are built up with stone topped with two courses of sandbags,
shelter for the garrison being afforded by sails; permanent running
water passes the foot of the hill.
"A number of donkey waggons were outspanned on the road beneath the
fort, and out by Wilson's house, where now a hotel flourishes with the
success usual in Matabeleland, we could see the coolies working in the
gardens, planting to renew the crops of vegetables reaped with zeal and
thoroughness by troops and travellers evidently determined that the
enemy shouldn't have them any way. Rinderpest is very much in evidence
round the fort, and oxen lie dead literally in troops, long regular
lines of carcasses lying together.
"At the foot of the hill leading to the fort one of the horses gave out
altogether, having clean knocked up in five miles of travelling, the
whole of which was done at a walking pace.
"If the loudly expressed wishes of the unfortunate wight who had to
walk and carry a heavy rifle from Wilson's to Buluwayo under a hot sun,
have any effect on the official who was responsible for sending horses
barely strong enough to move their own shadows on a duty in the course
of which speed might have been necessary to save their riders' lives,
he will some day find himself on a weak horse as per sample supplied to
us, and a score of Matabeles with sharp assegais and a taste for fancy
experiments in the torture line after him, with the certainty that he
will have to get off and try his individual sprinting powers before
reaching a place of safety. Not that there could be the least spice of
danger between here and Wilson's, but that the official who would allow
horses which to the most unversed eye are only fit for the sick lines
to leave the stable at all, would just as readily send the same variety
of mounts on hazardous service."
_5th June._--Colonel Plumer's column, 460 strong, moved off to the
country of the Guai River, north-west of Buluwayo.
And Macfarlane's column of 400 went away to the north.
Spreckley's column was to make its start next day, but the unexpected
happened to prevent it.
At ten o'clock at night, just as Sir Frederick was thinking we had
done enough office work for the day, Sir Charles Metcalfe and the
American scout Burnham rode up and came into the office, looking a bit
dishevelled and torn. They had been riding out in the evening to visit
Colonel Beal's column from Salisbury, which was camped about three
miles out of the town. Seeing fires close to the road, and near to
where they thought the camp must be, they had ridden up to them, and
found themselves in the camp of a large impi of the enemy! They only
escaped by making their way home by a detour through the bush. The news
seemed almost too improbable to be true, and yet the bearers of it were
not men to get excited and bring in a false report.
So I telephoned to a piquet we had at Government House (about two
miles out of town) to send a patrol to investigate. But the subsequent
reports were not wholly satisfactory, and I roused up Spreckley in
the middle of the night to show me the way, and we rather upset the
sleep of the inhabitants of Government House by appearing there to make
further inquiries at about three in the morning. Nothing satisfactory
to be learned there; so back to Buluwayo, and, getting a fresh horse
and a police-trooper as guide, I went out again towards Beal's camp.
There, in the early dawn, I was at last able to see the enemy clearly
enough. On the opposite bank of the Umgusa River they were camped in
long lines, fires burning merrily, and parties of them going to and
from the stream for water. I took my information on to Beal's camp.
I was much taken with the coolness with which the news was received
there. It was not above two miles and a half from that of the enemy.
The men were ordered to get their breakfasts without delay, and a
patrol of a sergeant and two men was sent out to the stream to see if
there were good water there, and also (apparently as an after-thought)
whether they, too, could see any enemy there. Before we had finished
breakfast they returned.
"Well, is it all right? Is there water there?"
"Yes."
"Is it good water?"
"I couldn't tell."
"Why not?"
"Because the Matabele were there, and wouldn't let us come near."
So we saddled up and moved off towards the spot to await the arrival of
more troops from Buluwayo, for I had sent my police-trooper back with
a note to tell them there that "it was good enough," and asking that
Spreckley's mounted column should be sent out to join us. Presently
they came up, followed by a few volunteers in carts who wanted to join
in the fun.
Our strength was 250 mounted men, with two guns and an ambulance.
The country was undulating veldt covered with brush, through which a
line of mounted men could move at open files.
As we advanced, we formed into line, with both flanks thrown well
forward--especially the right flank under Beal, which was to work round
in rear of the enemy on to their line of retreat--a duty which was most
successfully carried out.
The central part of the line then advanced at a trot straight for the
enemy's position.
The enemy were about 1200 strong, we afterwards found out. They did not
seem very excited at our advance, but all stood looking as we crossed
the Umgusa stream, but as we began to breast the slope on their side of
it, and on which their camp lay, they became exceedingly lively, and
were soon running like ants to take post in good positions at the edge
of a long belt of thicker bush. We afterwards found that their apathy
at first was due to a message from the M'limo, who had instructed them
to approach Buluwayo and to draw out the garrison, and to get us to
cross the Umgusa, because he (the M'limo) would then cause the stream
to open and swallow up every man of us. After which the impi would have
nothing to do but walk into Buluwayo and cut up the women and children
at their leisure. But something had gone wrong with the M'limo's
machinery, and we crossed the stream without any contretemps. So, as
we got nearer to the swarm of black heads among the grass and bushes,
their rifles began to pop and their bullets to flit past with a weird
little "phit," "phit," or a jet of dust and a shrill "wh-e-e-e-w" where
they ricocheted off the ground.
Some of our men, accustomed to mounted infantry work, were now for
jumping off to return the fire, but the order was given: "No; make a
cavalry fight of it. Forward! Gallop!"
Then, as we came up close, the niggers let us have an irregular,
rackety volley, and in another moment we were among them. They did not
wait, but one and all they turned to fly, dodging in among the bushes,
loading as they ran. And we were close upon their heels, zigzagging
through the thorns, jumping off now and then, or pulling up, to fire a
shot (we had not a sword among us, worse luck!), and on again.
[Illustration: THE UMGUSA FIGHT. 6TH JUNE
Our line of 200 men, in attacking the enemy 1200 strong, did not stop
to fire, but charged right into them, which so unnerved them that they
broke up and fled, and were pursued for five miles, losing nearly 200
killed.]
The men that I was with--Grey's Scouts--never seemed to miss a shot.
The Matabele as they ran kept stopping behind bushes to fire. Now and
again they tried to rally, but whenever a clump of them began to form
or tried to stand, we went at them with a whoop and a yell, and both
spurs in, and sent them flying. Of course, besides their guns they had
their assegais. Several of our horses got some wounds, and one man got
a horrid stab straight into his stomach. I saw another of our men fling
himself on to a Kafir who was stabbing at him; together they rolled on
the ground, and in a twinkling the white man had twisted the spear from
its owner's hand, and after a short, sharp tussle, he drove it through
the other's heart.
In one place one of the men got somewhat detached from the rest, and
came on a bunch of eight of the enemy. These fired on him and killed
his horse, but he himself was up in a trice, and, using magazine fire,
he let them have it with such effect that before they could close on
him with their clubs and assegais, he had floored half their number,
and the rest just turned and fled.
And farther on a horse was shot, and, in the fall, his rider stunned.
The niggers came louping up, grinning at the anticipated bloodshed, but
Sergeant Farley, of Grey's Scouts, was there before them, and hoisting
up his comrade on to his horse, got him safe away.
[Illustration: EIGHT TO ONE
One of our men came on a party of eight enemy. They shot his horse,
but he was himself up in a moment, and, opening magazine fire on them,
quickly killed or dispersed his assailants.]
Everywhere one found the Kafirs creeping into bushes, where they lay
low till some of us came by, and then they loosed off their guns at us
after we had passed.
I had my Colt's repeater with me--with only six cartridges in the
magazine, and soon I found I had finished these--so, throwing it under a
peculiar tree, where I might find it again, I went on with my revolver.
Presently I came on an open stretch of ground, and about eighty yards
before me was a Kafir with a Martini-Henry. He saw me, and dropped on
one knee and drew a steady bead on me. I felt so indignant at this that
I rode at him as hard as I could go, calling him every name under the
sun; he aimed,--for an hour, it seemed to me,--and it was quite a relief
when at last he fired, at about ten yards distance, and still more of
a relief when I realised he had clean missed me. Then he jumped up and
turned to run, but he had not gone two paces when he cringed as if some
one had slapped him hard on the back, then his head dropped and his
heels flew up, and he fell smack on his face, shot by one of our men
behind me.
At last I called a halt. Our horses were done, the niggers were all
scattered, and there were almost as many left behind us hiding in
bushes as there were running on in front.
A few minutes spent in breathing the horses, and a vast amount of
jabber and chaff, and then we reformed the line and returned at a walk,
clearing the bush as we went.
I had one shave. I went to help two men who were fighting a Kafir at
the foot of a tree, but they killed him just as I got there. I was
under the tree when something moving over my head caught my attention.
It was a gun-barrel taking aim down at me, the firer jammed so close to
the tree-stem as to look like part of it. Before I could move he fired,
and just ploughed into the ground at my feet.
He did not remain much longer in the tree. I have his knobkerrie and
his photo now as mementos.
At length we mustered again at our starting-point, where the guns and
ambulance had been left. We found that, apart from small scratches and
contusions, we had only four men badly wounded. One poor fellow had his
thigh smashed by a ball from an elephant gun, from which he afterwards
died. Another had two bullets in his back. Four horses had been killed.
And the blow dealt to the enemy was a most important one. A prisoner
told us that the impi was composed of picked men from all the chief
regiments of the rebel's forces, and that a great number of the chiefs
were present at the fight.
[_P.S._--We learned some months afterwards from refugees and surrendered
rebels that this was true, and that no less than fifteen headmen had
been killed, as well as more than two hundred of their men.]
[Illustration: THE BITER BIT
I had stopped for a moment under a tree, to look at a man who had just
been shot, when there was a slight movement among the branches above
me, and a Matabele who was hiding there fired down, but missed me. He
was immediately afterwards shot--and I photographed him later.]
Of course this was a very one-sided fight, and it sounds rather brutal
to anyone reading in cold blood how we hunted them without giving them
a chance--but it must be remembered we were but 250 against at least
1200. Lord Wolseley says "when you get niggers on the run, keep them
on the run" (this we did, for half a mile beyond the spot where we
pulled up, Beal with his column cut in from the flank and bashed them
from a new direction), and our only chance of bringing the war to a
speedy end is to go for them whenever we get the chance, and hit as
hard as ever we can: any hesitation or softness is construed by them as
a sign of weakness, and at once restores their confidence and courage.
They expect no quarter, because, as they admit themselves, they have
gone beyond their own etiquette of war, and have killed our women and
children. We found one wounded man who had hanged himself after the
fight. This is not an uncommon occurrence in these fights.
[_P.S._--I did not at the time fully realise the extraordinary
bloodthirsty rage of some of our men when they got hand to hand with
the Kafirs, but I not only understood it, but felt it to the full
myself later on, when I too had seen those English girls lying horribly
mutilated, and the little white children with the life smashed and
beaten out of them by laughing black fiends, who knew no mercy.]
Don't think from these remarks that I am a regular nigger-hater, for
I am not. I have met lots of good friends among them--especially among
the Zulus. But, however good they may be, they must, as a people, be
ruled with a hand of iron in a velvet glove; and if they writhe under
it, and don't understand the force of it, it is of no use to add more
padding--you must take off the glove for a moment and show them the
hand. They will then understand and obey. In the present instance they
had been rash enough to pull off the glove for themselves, and were now
beginning to find out what the hand was made of.
After the fight I made tracks for Buluwayo, got in in time for late
lunch, made up for lost time in the office, and was quite ready to go
to bed soon after dinner. But I called in at the club on my way, to
have a peep at the wonderfully picturesque collection of warriors, who
were, many of them,--most of them in fact,--still in their fighting-kit
(for many had no other), talking over the day's doings.
_7th June._--Rode out early, with a police-orderly to guide me, to
inspect the fort at Hope Fountain, ten miles south of Buluwayo, from
which one could just see the tops of Matopo Mountains, in which so many
of the rebel chiefs are said to be taking up their position. This fort
had been attacked about ten days ago, but the enemy never came on with
any boldness, and drew off after losing eleven killed. The mission
station close by, a very pretty little homestead with nice gardens and
trees, had been looted and burnt by the rebels.
I got back to Buluwayo just in time to see Spreckley's column march
off to patrol the country north-east of Buluwayo. A fine body of 400
of the roughest, most workman-like fighters one could wish to see. It
comprised both infantry and mounted infantry, artillery, and a levy of
wild-looking friendly Matabele.
In the afternoon I rode over yesterday's battlefield with Vyvyan,
recovered my gun,--which, by the way, Sir Frederick has christened
"Rodney,"--and photographed the chap who potted me out of the tree.
_8th and 9th June._--Office work from early morning up to late at night.
_10th June._--Lunched with Maurice Gifford, who had lost his arm in
one of the first fights of the war. He is not really in a fit state
to be about,--it still hurts him badly, poor chap, and he is a bit
feverish,--but quite anxious to have another go at the enemy. He says he
feels the pain as if it were in his hand, whereas the arm was taken off at the shoulder. |
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