Kitabı oku: «The Matabele Campaign», sayfa 6

The proclamation offering terms to the rebels by which they may surrender has gone forth to them by the best messengers that could be got, that is, by men who have been captured in the field, or who have come in offering to give themselves up, and also by native policemen, who, having been disarmed on suspicion of rebellious tendencies, have been since retained in open arrest. But so far the result has not been fully satisfactory, although it has done some good, and undoubtedly the thin end of the wedge towards peace has been inserted, but it will yet need some driving to get it home and finally to split the log of rebellion.

Many of the rebels would probably give in if the leaders would but let them. They are tired of war, and sick of being hustled about. But then these leaders have a strong power over them, and they are fighting with the halter round their necks, for they know their crimes are far too great to be condoned, and thus they try to carry on until the bitter end.

In the north, where they have suffered most hard blows, the impis are much broken up, and there it is that some of the people are surrendering of their own accord; they are coming in, in driblets and small bodies it is true, but still this is a beginning. There are, so far, no chiefs among them. Then, on the other hand, there exists a large proportion who still have the idea that they yet may beat the whites, and drive them from the land, and they are encouraged in maintaining this idea by spies’ reports, which tell them how the white men are daily going down–country to the Cape. Now that the road has been rendered safe and open by the operations in the Matopos, hired waggons, in addition to the bi–weekly coaches, are taking passengers in scores. The high cost of living at famine prices, and all business at a standstill, are the reasons for this exodus.

Then the M’limo, fearful for his own old skin, continues to issue most encouraging news and orders. He has revived with much success the story that disease is sweeping off the whites in Buluwayo, and promises that any warrior “doctored” by his charm is proof against the British bullets, which on his hide will turn to water. They only have to wait till all the whites are dead or fled, and then they will enjoy the good things of the town, and live in palaces of corrugated iron. All this they believe implicitly.

The rebels in the south have every reliance, and with reason, on the impregnability of their rock–strongholds; and their confidence is strengthened by their store of grain and cattle, which were being brought, long before the outbreak, into the hills by the M’limo’s orders. Of arms and ammunition they have plenty, although the puzzle is to say from whence they come. But there they are – Martinis, Lee–Metfords, Winchesters, besides the blunderbusses and elephant guns, which at the close quarters of this fighting make very deadly practice.

And then our so–called friendlies are known to be supplying them with information of our moves, as well as with such luxuries as Kaffir beer and cartridges.

It is only, even now, internal jealousies among the rebel chiefs that save the whites from being blotted out. The attempt to make Nyamanda king, if ever seriously intended, fell through abortively; each of the great chiefs desires that honour for himself, and thus the different impis do not amalgamate to crush us; but they let our puny force go round and punch them all in turn, in such a way as breaks them daily smaller.

The proclamation has gone forth to these men too; but answer comes there none, except at times when scouting parties meet, and then the rebels shout to us, from their look–out rocks, such words as these: “And so you want to end the war, do you? Yes, it will be ended soon, for none of you will live to keep it on.” And then they add a stream of highly–coloured threats of personal damage they will do to our nice white corpses. The tired, desponding tone of impending submission which one would hope to hear is altogether absent from their talk.

Then, even those who have surrendered have done it in a mere half–hearted way; that is to say, scarce one among them has produced his gun. Of course, the terms of their surrender include the giving up of their arms; but that is an extent to which they do not wish to yield. They cannot tell when they may want to break out again, and where would they be then without their guns? That is the way they reason with themselves. It suits them, for the time, to come and “konza” to make peace, to save their skins and sow their crops; but, all the same, they stow away their guns and ammunition in their holes among the rocks, and hand up, as their “arms,” their oldest assegais and shields. Thus, even when the present military force has broken up the impis in the field, and cleared their strongholds out, there will remain a tale of work for local police to do in carrying out disarmament. And it is then, and only then, that peace can settle firmly on the land.

The doses being given now may seem too bitter to our tender–hearted countrymen at home; but, “though bitter now, they’re better then.” It seems the only way to get these men to understand there is a greater power than their M’limo; and once the lesson has been unmistakably brought home to them, there is some hope that a time of peace en permanence may dawn for them. It is the end for which we all are striving here. And the present system of Sir Frederick Carrington is the most promising that could be devised to suit the circumstances. With his tiny force, he goes from point to point where impis are collected; in every case he strikes them hard, and promptly builds a fort there on the spot, and leaves a party in possession. The people round are told they may surrender. The forts are then to act as police posts in the future, to ensure the peace of every outside district, by standing as a sword of Damocles to all offenders, and a handy tower of refuge for friendlies who are oppressed.

We shall soon be in a position to judge the value of the rebels’ threats, for all is now prepared for our campaign in the Matopos; Laing’s column (200 strong) being encamped near the western end, Plumer’s (of 800) at “Usher’s No. 1,” near the central part. This latter camp I visited late at night on the 15th.

16th July.– Early this morning I picked up Pyke and Taylor (the Native Commissioner), and we rode on to inspect the country between the centre and west of the enemy’s position. At Jozan’s Kraal (friendly), about four miles north of the enemy, we stopped to talk, get news, and lunch. Lunch was got for us by our host, Jozan, as follows: – A live sheep was brought, and laid before us on some leafy twigs; its throat was then gently cut, the liver taken out, and fried in an iron bowl. Off this we made our meal, without any bread or other concomitant, excepting salt, which was held by a human salt–cellar for us. We took our salt by dipping each his hunk of meat into the nigger’s grimy palm.

We had a good look at the enemy’s position, and then we got thirty of Jozan’s men, armed with assegais and shields, to go with us across the neutral valley and examine the great kraal that lay opposite, in which watch–fires had been burning the night before. As we got near to it, we spread out our little army into a crescent shape, with two horns advanced, and we attacked the village in style; but the only enemy there were two men and one ox, and these cleared out in a great hurry before we got in. We burned the kraal, and then reconnoitred into the koppies beyond, where we found another kraal, also deserted, which we burned. Among other odds and ends of loot in this kraal, we found a high–jump standard, evidently stolen from the Athletic Sports Ground near Buluwayo.

But my release from town and office life now came. As I knew the Matopos country and the enemy’s whereabouts, I was sent to act as guide to Colonel Plumer, who was to have the immediate direction of operations in the Matopos, Vyvyan taking the office work off my hands.

17th July.– The General now took up his quarters in camp, to direct affairs against the Matopos. And the following day I took Pyke, Richardson (interpreter), and four native scouts into the Matopos, to get a view of Babyan’s stronghold: Babyan’s being the central and important impi of all, and in close communication with the westernmost impi at Inugu.

We approached the position through open, park–like country interspersed with piles of granite boulders a hundred feet in height; from these koppies we could hear the look–out men calling a warning cry to each other, and now and again we could see them, perched up on high, watching our movements. I was sorry then that we had brought natives with us, as, if the enemy were to come and have a try at us now, it would be easy enough for us three, had we been alone, to gallop away; but, having the boys on foot with us, we should now have to stick to them and help them away. So they hampered us somewhat. But still we didn’t do badly.

The valley in which the enemy lay was surrounded by rugged koppies; one of these was a great, dome–shaped mass of granite; we went for it, as being easy to climb, and less trappy and liable to ambush. Upon its crest stood the ruins of a farm belonging to Usher, and a path led up a little gully to the huts. Instead of taking this path, we were sufficiently wily to go round the hill for a bit; then, leaving our horses hidden in a clump of bushes, with two sharp–eyed boys in charge, we quickly scrambled on to the top of the koppie. Two or three of the enemy, who had been using this as a look–out place, bolted away before us. We had a very useful view from here of the lie of the ground, and of the position of the enemy, as shown by the smoke of his camp–fires. One felt tempted to stay there, and drink in every detail and map it down; but suddenly I saw the head and shoulders of a crouching figure dash across the opening between two rocks at the foot of our position, followed by another, and another – not fifty yards from us. They were racing to cut us off in the glen! They had seen us on the top, and guessed that our horses would naturally have been left on the pathway. But they were sold – as were also another party, whom we could see hastening out into the bush to cut us off on our homeward path. We gave them a few shots, and then scuttled down the far side of the rock, got our horses, sent our boys trotting along ahead of us, and we quietly got away through the bush by a totally different route to that by which we came.

CHAPTER VI
Campaign in the Matopos²

19th July to 24th July

A Night March – Attack on Babyan’s Stronghold – The Cape Boys in Action – No Stretchers for the Wounded – Amateur Doctoring – The Enemy’s Attempt to cut us off is spoiled – Result of the Action – I am sent to find Laing – Laing’s Action at Inugu – His Laager attacked – Fort Usher – Enemy on the Move – Sleeping in Camp.

19th July.– At last our time came. The order was given to the men in the morning, “Bake two days’ bread, and sleep all you can this afternoon.” At what was usually our bedtime the whole column paraded without noise or trumpet call, and at 10.30 we moved off in the moonlight into the Matopos. I was told off to guide the column, because I knew the way. I preferred to go alone in front of the column, for fear of having my attention distracted if any one were with me, and of my thereby losing my bearings. And there was something of a weird and delightful feeling in mouching along alone, with a dark, silent square of men and horses looming along behind one. Neither talking nor smoking was allowed – for the gleam of a match lighting a pipe shines a long way in the darkness. Except for the occasional cough of a man or snort of a horse, the column, nearly a thousand strong, moved in complete silence. Once a dog yelped with excitement after a buck started from its lair; the orders for the night expressly stated that no dog should go with the column, and accordingly this one was promptly caught and killed with an assegai.

Soon after midnight we were within a mile of the place; the square halted, and each man lay down to sleep just where he stood – and jolly cold it was!

An hour before dawn we were up and on our way again, moving quietly onwards until we were close to the pass among the koppies which led into the enemy’s valley. Here, just as dawn was coming on, we left the ambulance and a reserve of men, together with our greatcoats and other impedimenta, and formed our column for attacking the stronghold.

First came an advance force comprising the two corps of Cape Boys, Robertson’s and Colenbrander’s. Cape Boys are natives and half–castes from the Cape Colony, mostly English–speaking, and dressed and armed like Europeans. There were also 200 friendly Matabele under Taylor, the Native Commissioner, 20 mounted white scouts under Coope, and a Hotchkiss and two Maxims under Llewellyn. This force was under my command.

Then came the main body of white troops under Colonel Plumer; this consisted of three troops of the newly raised police under Nicholson, the M.R.F. (Plumer’s corps), with two mountain battery guns. Also a detachment from the Belingwe column under Sir Frederick Frankland, which had volunteered to join in the fight (and had had to march all night from a distant camp to overtake us) and see the fun.

Sir Frederick Carrington was there also, though properly speaking he was on the sick–list with bronchitis, – not a thing to be trifled with when you have an old bullet–wound in your lung, – and with him were Lord Grey and Cecil Rhodes.

And so we advanced in the growing daylight into the broken, bushy valley, which was surrounded on every side by rough, rocky cliffs and koppies. Fresh paths and spoor showed that hundreds of rebels must be living here, and at last I jumped with joy when I spotted one thin streak of smoke after another rising among the crags on the eastern side of the valley. My telescope soon showed that there was a large camp with numerous fires, and crowds of natives moving among them. These presently formed into one dense brown mass, with their assegai blades glinting sharply in the rays of the morning sun. We soon got the guns up to the front from the main body, and in a few minutes they were banging their shells with beautiful accuracy over the startled rebel camp.

While they were at this game, I stole onwards with a few native scouts into the bottom of the valley, and soon saw another thin whisp of smoke not far from me in the bush; we crept cautiously down, and there found a small outpost of the enemy just leaving the spot where they had been camped for the night. At this point two valleys ran off from the main valley in which we were; one, running to the south, was merely a long narrow gorge, along which flowed the Tuli River; the other, on the opposite side of the river from us, ran to the eastward and formed a small open plateau surrounded by a circle of intricate koppies. While we were yet watching at this point, strings of natives suddenly appeared streaming across this open valley, retiring from the camp on the mountain above, which was being shelled by our guns. They were going very leisurely, and, thinking themselves unobserved, proceeded to take up their position among the encircling koppies. I sent back word of their movements, and calling together the Native Levy, proceeded at once to attack them. To do this more effectually, we worked round to the end of the main valley and got into some vast rock strongholds on the edge of the Tuli gorge. These, though recently occupied by hundreds of men, were now vacated, and one had an opportunity of seeing what a rebel stronghold was like from the inside; all the paths were blocked and barricaded with rocks and small trees; the whole place was honeycombed with caves, to which all entrances, save one or two, were blocked with stones; among these loopholes were left, such as to enable the occupants to fire in almost any direction. Looking from these loopholes to the opposite side of the gorge, we could see the enemy close to us in large numbers, taking up their position in a similar stronghold. Now and again two or three of them would come out of a cave on to a flat rock and dance a war–dance at our troops, which they could see in the distance, being quite unsuspicious of our near presence. They were evidently rehearsing what they would do when they caught the white man among their rocks, and they were shouting all sorts of insults to the troops, more with a spirit of bravado than with any idea of their reaching their ears at that distance. Interesting as the performance was, we did not sit it out for long, but put an abrupt end to it by suddenly loosing a volley at them at short range and from this unexpected quarter.

Then, clambering down among the rocks, we crossed the Tuli River and commenced the ascent of the towering crags in which the enemy were located. Of course this had to be done on foot, and I left my horse tied to a tree, with my coat and all spare kit hung in the branches.

Our friendlies went very gaily at the work at first, with any amount of firing, but very little result; the enemy had now entirely disappeared into their caves and holes among the rocks, merely looking out to fire and then popping in again. Our own niggers climbed about, firing among the rocks, but presently did more firing than climbing, and began to take cover and to stick to it; finally, two of them were bowled over, and the rest of them got behind the rocks and there remained, and no efforts could get them to budge. I then called up the Cape Boys and the Maxims (in which Lord Grey assisted where it was difficult to move owing to the very bad ground); these reinforcements came up with no loss of time and went to work with a will. It was delightful to watch the cool, business–like way in which Robertson brought his Boys along. They floundered through the boggy stream and crawled up the smooth, dome–shaped rocks beyond, and soon were clambering up among the koppies, banging and cheering. Llewellyn, too, brought his guns along at equal speed, and soon had them in position on apparently inaccessible crags, where they came into action with full effect at every chance the enemy gave them.

The fight gradually moved along the eastern valley, in the centre of which was a convenient rock from which I was able to see all that was going on, and it formed a good centre for directing the attacks, as the enemy were in the rocks on every side of us. The Cape Boys, after making a long circle round through part of the stronghold, reassembled at this spot, and from it directed their further attacks on the different parts requiring them, and it became the most convenient position for the machine guns, as they were able to play in every direction in turn from this point. For the systematic attack on the stronghold a portion of it is assigned to each company, and it is a pleasing sight to see the calm and ready way in which they set to work. They crowd into the narrow, bushy paths between the koppies, and then swarm out over the rocks from whence the firing comes, and very soon the row begins. A scattered shot here and there, and then a rattling volley; the boom of the elephant gun roaring dully from inside a cave is answered by the sharp crack of a Martini–Henry; the firing gradually wakes up on every side of us, the weird whisk of a bullet overhead is varied by the hum of a leaden–coated stone or the shriek of a pot–leg fired from a Matabele big–bore gun; and when these noises threaten to become monotonous, they are suddenly enlivened up by the hurried energetic “tap, tap, tap” of the Maxims or the deafening “pong” of the Hotchkiss. As you approach the koppies, excitement seems to be in the air; they stand so still and harmless–looking, and yet you know that from several at least of those holes and crannies the enemy are watching you, with finger on trigger, waiting for a fair chance. But it is from the least expected quarter that a roar comes forth and a cloud of smoke and the dust flies up at your feet.

It’s laughable to watch a Cape Boy prying into a cave with his long bayonet held out before him, as if to pick some human form of winkle from his shell. Suddenly he fires into the smoke which spurts from the cave before him. Too late: he falls, and then tries to rise – his leg is shattered. A moment later, three of his comrades are round him; they dash past him and disappear into the hole, two dull, thud–like shots within, and presently they come out again, jabbering and gesticulating to each other; then they pick up the injured man by his arms and drag him out into the open, and, leaving him there for the doctor’s party to find, they are quickly back again for further sport. At one moment they appear like monkeys on unexpected points of rock, at another like stage assassins creeping round corners and shooting, – or being shot. As we turn the corner, going up one of the paths, we find ourselves face to face with a similar string of rebels trotting down the path. For a moment the thought crosses one’s mind, Shall we stop to fire or go for them? but before the thought has time to fashion itself, we find ourselves going for them. Nor do they wait for our bayonets: they turn helter–skelter, rushing up the path, diving among the rocks and grass, for though fond of administering cold steel, it is the last thing they wish to meet with themselves, and so we treat them to the next best thing, a few well–aimed shots.

Out on our central rock again, we get reports from various detached attacking parties, showing that at at every point the rebels are being cleared or killed in their dens; but plenty of individuals of them still are left, and of this we have practical demonstration in the frequent visitation of bullets and other missiles, and some of them do their shooting pretty accurately, the Maxim attracting the aim of many a marksman among them. One of these marksmen we have nicknamed “Old Pot–legs,” from the nature of the missile (the iron legs of Kaffir cooking–pots) with which he treats us at intervals of ten minutes or so. Another on the other side we have christened “Rinderpest,” because he is a plague to us with his Lee–Metford rifle.

Meantime, several of our men have got hit, and have been brought in to our central rock, some of them brought out at considerable risk, too, by their officers and other men. But there are no stretchers to put them on, our bearer corps of friendly natives, who had been detailed to accompany the force, having entirely disappeared during the advance. (We afterwards found that they had dropped the stretchers in the Tuli River, and had dispersed themselves into the safest hiding–places they could find.) Nor was our surgeon here at first, Surgeon–Captain Lunan, for wherever firing was the hottest, there he went – to try and make it hotter. So in the meantime we did the best amateur work we could on the wounded men brought in. Of these there were six, all badly wounded, in addition to two more killed; and it is a pathetic comedy to watch the burly Royal Artillery sergeant transforming himself into a nurse for the occasion with a rough good–heartedness that does not stop to consider whether his patients are black or white.

At last the firing slackens off; our Maxim and our marksmen have stopped the fire of “Rinderpest,” “Pot–legs,” and Co. for good, and our parties return from their attacks in different directions, pretty tired, but cheerful; and now, having cleared the stronghold, we might well return to the main body, who are still in the main valley behind, but without stretchers we cannot carry the wounded, so, while we take a rest, our flag–waggers signal back for stretchers to be sent with white men to carry them, and not the useless friendlies.

But, from our apparent inaction, the Matabele, who still are watching us, gather that we are in some sort of distress; presently they are calling to one another among the rocks between us and the main body, and very soon we find that they are collecting in force in the Tuli River gorge, intent on cutting us off should we attempt to rejoin our friends.

[The above was written while we paused inactive on the field, waiting for the stretchers.]

A piquet, which we had posted in this direction, soon became pretty warmly engaged with them, but the only danger of the situation was the danger to the enemy themselves, for our main body, quickly realising the state of affairs, came down upon their rear, and in a few moments, finding themselves between two heavy fires, this wing of the rebels broke up in hurried flight, leaving some twenty of their dusky bodies huddled dead among the yellow grass. Very shortly afterwards a string of white men carrying stretchers, escorted by a squadron of the M.R.F. on foot, came up to our position, and soon we were comfortably on our way to rejoin headquarters.

During the return march I sent the Cape Boys skirmishing into the strongholds on either side of us, but they found them, in every case, completely clear of living enemies, though numerous bodies and blood–trails spoke to the success of the morning’s attack.

On reaching the main body, we lunched and slept, while the surgeons got to work on the wounded; among these, unfortunately, a number of amputations were found necessary, on account of the terrible wounds inflicted by the Matabele missiles.

We learned with much regret of the death of Sergeant Warringham, who, while we were fighting in the stronghold, had been shot when scouting down the Tuli gorge, and had been brought in under a nasty fire by Colonel Bridge, Captain Vyvyan, and others, patrolling near him. The party, Colonel Frank Rhodes among them, had lost several horses shot, but, with the greatest luck, came out unwounded themselves, except Lieutenant Taylor, who was slightly hit.

From daylight up till two o’clock we had been at it, and though practically only the advanced force had been engaged, the action was a complete success, and Babyan had been broken up in his own stronghold. And since he is the great leader among them, having been one of Lobengula’s most trusted indunas, and also having visited the English in their own country, his defeat should have a great moral effect among the remaining rebel chiefs.

During the afternoon we returned to camp, arriving there after dark. A curious incident occurred on this march back, which might have had unpleasant effects on the man concerned. Lieutenant Lowther of Coope’s Scouts was sent on ahead of the column to call up another ambulance from the camp, but in doing so he lost his way, and was missing for the next two days, eventually turning up at Fig Tree Fort, some five–and–twenty miles distant, having met with various adventures with small parties of the rebels on the way.

21st July.– It had been part of the General’s plan that while we were attacking Babyan, Captain Laing with his column should also simultaneously attack the enemy’s impi on the Inugu Mountain, some eight miles to the westward. During our attack yesterday morning we had heard Laing’s guns banging away in a very lively manner in the distance, so that we had expected, on returning to camp, to get some news from him, but none came. We accordingly sent off some native runners to go and find him, and to bring back information, in case he should yet be among the mountains, and we also sent a mounted patrol down to where his camp should be had he been successful, and returned into the main valley of the Malema River.

But we could learn nothing of him; the natives returned and reported that he was cut off by the enemy from all power of communication. Naturally this began to make us feel somewhat anxious, as I had already reported on the danger of the gorges in the neighbourhood of the Inugu, and of the knowledge the enemy had of their tactical strength. So this evening the General desired me to take a strong patrol of a hundred men, and go and find Laing.

We left camp soon after dark, and followed the Malema valley in the moonlight, until we were in the pass in the mountains which led down to the Inugu. My idea was to move through the outlying hills to strike the spoor which Laing had made in going into the hills, and simply to follow that track until I found him. Even to strike the spoor, one had to pass through some very nasty country, parts of which were in occupation of the enemy; but as their main strength would now be collected against Laing, and those that were left behind would probably be asleep, I did not expect much opposition on their part. At length we successfully struck the spoor, but, to my great surprise and delight, we found it was quite fresh spoor, leading outward away from the mountains, and it very soon brought us to within sight of his camp–fires; so, sounding a few trumpet–calls as we went, in order to show that we were no enemy, we made our way into his camp about eleven o’clock.

We found he had had a good fight, having been attacked in laager after he had got well inside the gorge; he had eventually driven off the enemy with the loss of nearly a hundred, his own losses being three whites killed and ten wounded, twenty–five friendlies killed or missing and eighteen wounded, and eighteen horses and mules killed. We did not wait longer than to hear the good news, but started back at once for our own camp, which we reached at three in the morning, and, needless to say, the General was delighted to be roused up to receive the news.

Captain Laing’s column had left their camp in the Malema valley on the 19th, and had gone into the pass alongside the Inugu Mountain, but without seeing a sign of an enemy. They had gone on to the end of this pass, hoping to find a route by which they might come into Babyan’s stronghold from the southward, and thus co–operate with us in our attack on the 20th. They laagered for the night with their waggons on the evening of the 19th in the widest part of the Inugu pass.