Campaigning in Kaffirland; Or, Scenes and Adventures in the Kaffir War of 1851-52King, William Ross
History
Campaigning in Kaffirland; Or, Scenes and Adventures in the Kaffir War of 1851-52
King, William Ross
South Africa -- History -- Frontier Wars, 1811-1878
After about two hours, the enemy,--who had again crept up to within
range, at an angle of the forest which even the Fingoes had found
impassable,--fired one or two shots at random into our cover, to see
if we were still there, the balls dropping right among us. Presently
a couple of black heads were slowly raised over the edge of a rock,
but seeing us, were withdrawn so instantaneously that we had not time
to fire. Some of our men lying flat on the large slabs of stone, and
peering down into the deep forest on the sloping mountain side, made
signs to me, pointing below, and quietly reaching their position, I
had an opportunity rarely afforded of watching a party of Kaffirs
cautiously advancing along the bottom of the thicket immediately below
us, creeping stealthily through the underwood, perfectly naked, and
armed with assegais and guns. Stopping every few feet to listen, they
peered into the bush before them, their well greased bodies shining
in the occasional gleams of sunshine that streamed down through the
thick foliage of the trees, and again moved on, avoiding every rotten
twig, and preserving a noiselessness perfectly marvellous. It was most
exciting, as we lay crouched among the huge grey rocks, from which
our bush dress was hardly distinguishable, to watch them pursuing
their deadly mode of warfare in their own fastnesses. Our men waiting
the moment to fire, had gradually brought the muzzles of their arms
to bear; and without moving their heads, and hardly drawing breath,
silently indicated to each other the whereabouts of fresh comers.
With rifles pointed through the creepers at the edge of the rock on
which we lay stretched, we waited with fingers on the trigger for a
fair shot, and I fancied I could hear my heart beating. At a signal,
bang went twenty muskets, echoing from crag to crag in the silent wood,
and the treacherous savages met the death they had been plotting for us.
We still remained here for some hours, the General requiring the
position to be held during his other movements; the men took out their
pipes and smoked to allay their hunger, which they had no chance of
satisfying until the night's bivouac, while an occasional bullet lodged
in the trees around us, fired by some skulking Tottie or Kaffir. One
or two of us were so fatigued that notwithstanding the roar of the big
guns, we fell asleep.
At three in the afternoon the clouds again settled on the ridge, and
the fog became so heavy that all further operations were at an end,
and the enemy having evacuated all his positions, and being nowhere
visible, we were withdrawn from our tiresome duty of occupation. The
whole of the troops were called in, and assembled in column on the
open; a mule waggon came down for the wounded, and we bivouacked for
the night on the bare bleak ridge close by.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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