Through the Zulu country. Its battlefields and its people ... With ... illustrations

Introduction

. In the following pages the Author cannot promise a narrative of hairbreadth escape and thrilling adventure, but simply an account of e\'eryday experiences during a trip through Zululand in 1882, undertaken with the object of making the round of the battlefields in succession — which, till then, had not been done by anybody — mix ing with the people, observing their character as AveU as manners and customs, and gathering their opinion on the subject of the recent campaign and other questions relating to themselves and their national polity. That the country, hitherto but little visited, and previous to the late war scarcely known, is an interesting one, and destined to become even VI

INTRODUCTION.

. more so, there can be no doubt ; wherefore the Author feels that no apology is needed for farther introducing it and its people to British readers. He also takes this opportunity of tendering grateful acknowledgments to the many friends whose kind assistance so largely facihtated the carrying out of his plans. London : January 1883, PAGE 1 51 CONTENTS.

Chapter I

Southward Ho ! — A floating population — A night down Channel — Plymouth — Undesirable company — Delay — A sou'wester — ' A wet sheet and a flowing sea ' — A Constitutional under difficulties — The Sea Demon— The Bay of Biscay — A smash

Chapter II

Madeira — A noisy lot — Diving boys — Funchal — Pleasures of landing — A bazaar afloat — Teneriffe — ' A life on the ocean wave ' — Fire practice — Church parade — The weekly press — Crossing the Line — A callow Teuton— Some cheerful reflections — Theatricals — Table Bay 18

Chapter VIII

' Fugitives' Drift ' — The saving of the Colours — Zulus ' at home ' — A novel brew — On headgear — ' The gilt off the gingerbread' — A Rorke's Drift hero — Ascent of Isandhlwana — Relics — A grand monument 96

Chapter IX

Hlubi — A trial-at-law — Native oratory — Sirayo's stronghold — The Ityotyozi valley — A standstill and a snake — Visitors — An important institution — ' Big tagati ' — AA'here the Prince was killed — Sabuza — A beggar — The Queen's Cross — A kindly tribute — An old story retold . . . . . 109

Chapter X

Tbe Upoko valley — A rencontre — Traders and trade —Mehlo-ka-zulu — The biter bit — Zulu honesty — A Briton and his growl CONTENTS. IX

Chapter XI. Pau

It An ' afternoon call ' — Kraal etiquette — Zulu hospitality — Native mode of slaughtering cattle — The story of a clever shot — Zulu opinion of artillery — ' Ubain-bai ' — Sirayo — General feeling with regard to Cetywayo ...... 139

Chapter XII

A thunderstorm aud a novel cistern — ' Arrival of the mail ' — A comfortable night — Matyana's kraal — Pastoral scene — The last new thing in shields ...... 162

Chapter XIII

Kwamagwaza — A desperate position and a tragic reminiscence — The soldiers' grave — The valley of the Umhlatusi . .164

Chapter XIV

Etshowe — The fort — Pleasures of picket duty — Two ' sells ' — A retrospective glance — Imbombotyana hill — ' In the Heavens ' A novelty in tattooing — Dabulamanzi — Another ' beggar ' — Derivation of ' Etshowe ' 173

Chapter XV

Battle of Inyezane — Scenery — An aggressive customer — Inyoni — A trading store — Johan Colenbrander — A tussle, and a narrow escape — Mangete — Gingindhlovu — A ride across country and a ducking ....... 186

Chapter XVI

Ncandiiku — John Dunn — Administration of justice — Liquor traffic — Sitimela — ' A stitch in time ' — An eventful career- Charioteering in excelsis — Gihlana CONTENTS. X PAGE 209 238

Chapter XVII

Wild country — Sigcwelegcwele — A crack colonel of a crack regiment — Etshowe again — A dissertation on phenomena — Inkwenkwe hill — Vumandaba — A chief ' at Home ' — 'Hard wood ' — A ' lively ' domicile — Novel weapons — ' Bring us back the King ! ' .

Chapter XVIII

Cetywayo and the missionaries — Entonjaneni — Valley of the AVhite Umfolosi — A cool spot and a picture — Mahlabatini — ' Then and now '—Battle of Ulundi .222

Chapter XIX

A Zulu on Gatlings — Ulundi and Nodwengu — An unlucky warrior — Tall haggling — Midnight at Ulundi — A Golgotha

Chapter XX

Mfanawendhlela — A native dish — A jovial crew — Inhlazatye and the Residency — Moral suasion — 'No thoroughfare' — ■ Intaba'nkulu — Messengers — 'Thunder in the air,' metaphorical and literal — On storms — A refugee — A pleasant position and a night march under difficulties . . . 245

Chapter XXI

An exhilarating scene — Hlobane — 'Excelsior' — Umbelini's fastness — A rout and a race for life — A talk on the mountain *ide — A tragic spot ........ 259

Chapter XXII

A ' stick,' but in the mud — ' Dutch spoken here ' — ' Philip drunk' — More rain — -A Republican — Kambula — Zulu account of the battle — Relics — A cemetery in the wilderness Back to the border ........ CONTENTS. XI PAGE

Chapter XXIII

A panorama — Zulu dances — A bushbuck ' drive ' — Native hunters — Return to Maritzburg — Afloat again .... 283

Chapter XXIV

Cetywayo at ' Oude Molen '■ — The King on John Dunn — Former position of Cetywayo — Ncungcwane and the royal attendants — Homeward bound 298

Chapter XXV

Zululand under the Ulundi settlement — Restoration of Cetywayo — Military system and tactics — Zulu opinion of the Boers — Zulu character and physique — Religion and superstitions — Formation and appearance of the country — Climate —Wild animals 307 Conclusion ILLUSTEATIONS. Isandhlwana ....... Frontispiece Where the Prince was Killed . . . To face p. 118 Ezulwini — Dabulamanzi's Kraal . . . „ 180 Site of Ulundi „ 226 Hlobane Mountain ,,

Chapter I

Southward Ho ! — A floating population — A night down Channel — Plymouth — Undesirable company — Delay — A Sou'wester — ' A wet sheet and a flowing sail ' — A Constitutional under difficulties — The Sea Demon — The Bay of Biscay — A smash. Rain, rain — nothing but rain ; skies dank and misty, swathed in one vast curtain of yelloAvish grey ; not a break anyAvhere, gloom and dampness all prevailing. Such is the state of things as I find myself, at about noon on a day late in November, one of a depressed-looking throng waiting to claim their goods and chattels on the wharf at South ampton. We have all just emerged from the nine o'clock train from Waterloo, the last in time to enable us to catch the Cape mail steamer, and most of us are bound for the sunny shores of Southern Afric ; and meanAvhile we stand shivering in the cold raw atmosphere, futilely Avishing those wretched jacks-in-office who rule the wharf B arrangements with a rod of iron would but hurry up a little.

But the wisest and only plan is to keep cool— mentally, I mean — and take things as they come. At last the necessary ceremonial is completed, and we are passed out one by one, with our luggage, on to the dripping quay, thence to the steam tender which is to convey us on board ; and we stand huddled in groups on the soaking deck, awnings and canvas but ill keeping out the continuous and heavy downpour. There is the colonist returning with his family after a stay in the old country, which, in his heart of hearts, he is not at all sorry to see the last of; there is the business man, whose interests maybe necessitate a frequent run backwards and for wards, but who hopes one day to make his last trip and cast anchor for good and aU on this side. Young ladies going to join their friends in the colonies, or on missions whose objects are best known to themselves.

Invalids, a few are also there — fleeing from the drear chills of an English winter, or seeking en permanence a more congenial clime. Young Britain going out to try its luck in fresh Avoods and pastures neAV, croA\Tded out of the old country perhaps, or in search of a more adven turous life. Many, of course, have friends seeino them off, generaUy of more woful appearance than the intending migrant. Nor must we forget the LTS PEOPLE. 3 inevitable sprinkling of mysterious looking gentlemen who have ' something to do with the Company ' — no one knoAvs exactly what, or cares — and we have a summary of our living freight, standing with the luggage piled up in front amid Avraps, bundles, bird cages, bandboxes, and all the varied articles of hand-impedimentum of a crowd of travellers. At last the moorings are cast off, and away Ave go, plunging and tossing, into Southampton Water, the rain driving in upon us as we dash along head to wind, and for a quarter of an hour the sole object in hfe is to try and find a dry place to stand in.

Presently the masts and yards of a big steamship appear through the mist, her black hull looming up indistinctly as she heaves to the swell, and in a few minutes Ave are alongside of one of the Union Company's best vessels. A general scramble for light luggage, a rush on the part of two or three fidgetty mortals for heavy, and we are on board our floating home. All is bustle — the forepart of the ship swarming with emigrants moving to and fro hke a disturbed ants' nest ; a few of the saloon passengers are already in possession, among them a number of Germans, old and young — for the vessel has been to Ham burg before taking us up at Southampton. Tbe hatches are open, and the donkey engine is hard at work lowering cases into the hold, our baggage b2 is hoisted on board in its turn, and finds its way to our respective cabins — more bustle in hitting ofl these, steAvards rushing about, shore people get ting into everybody's way, and generally picking out the busiest men to ask a dozen questions of at once.

I take things very coolly, and everything settles down in no time ; I find my berth, get my luggage brought down, and there I am, snug for the next month. But let us take a look round. The cabin is a four berthed one ; there are the bunks one above the other in two blocks, a couple of washstands and looking-glasses, racks across the ceihng for hats, parcels, &c, and a campstool ; and, being an outside cabin, Ave are happy in the possession of a port hole — no small advantage in the tropics. I am fortunate in having but one cabin mate, for it occurs to me that although three persons may constitute a crowd in the Riot Act, four in a nine foot space would constitute a very considerable one : but we are only two, and are thankful. And now the bell rings for luncheon, and I begin to take stock of my fellow passengers, though, as nearly aU have friends seeing them off, it is difficult to determine exactbv who isn't soinc ashore.

The question is cleared by the ringing of the shore bell, and there is a general scramble up the companion stairs ; the tender is just leaving ITS PEOPLE. 5 nor AviU it come off again ; therefore, whoever does not Avant to risk an involuntary trip to Plymouth had better look sharp. The gangway is blocked ; copious ' good-byes ' are interchanged ; amid much waving of handkerchiefs, and some rather husky attempts at cheering, the tender casts off and we are left to our own devices. But the clank of the capstan and the first beat of the propeller warns us that our voyage has begun. The rain has ceased ; the clouds are hanging in white jagged masses over the water, and through the rifts here and there can be seen the distant hills Avith their miles and miles of forest ; but the dark hand of winter is upon that loveliest of lovely landscapes, and everything wears a drooping and dilapidated appearance.

The big ship moves steadily on, dropping doAvn the calm Avaters of the Solent, and many of our friends begin to think a voyage is not such a dreadful thing after all ; but wait a bit. The high, pointed cliffs of the Isle of Wight are towering above us, and we glide smoothly along past the Needles ; then a rocking motion becomes more and more perceptible, and we rise and dip to the freshening breeze as we pass out into the Channel. And a darkening curtain descends upon the sea ; Southampton has faded into mist behind ; a liorht from the shore gleams out redly ; the wash of the Avaves on yonder beach mingles with the murmur of the salt sea breeze, while the wailing scream of gulls circling around the chalk cliffs rings weirdly through the twilight, and each bold headland looming up in the deepening shadows stands forth like a watch-toAver over the restless Avaters.

The passengers are standing about in groups or pacing up and down in twos and threes, many with dire misgivings as to the results of the next hour. The dinner bell rings ; this is the test, and thin will be the muster round the festive board this evening. And so it turns out ; of the few bold enough to make evTen so much as a sIioav at table, nearly half drop off and retire early from the field. A handsome apartment is the saloon, occupying the whole width of the vessel, and weU lighted with swinging lamps ; the three long tables are duly garnished with ' fiddles,' which, for the benefit of the uninitiated, are not orchestral instru ments, but wooden frames fixed to the tables to keep everything from shpping off in Uvely Aveather such as we are noAV experiencing, for there is plenty of motion, and we are roUing in brisk fashion.

SteAvards stagger about deftly with the dishes ; now and then a crash is heard as a new hand comes to grief with his load of crockery ; your soup empties itself into your lap, and the nuts destined for dessert incontinently forsake their ITS BATTLEFIELDS AND LTS PEOPLE. 7 dishes and steeplechase up and down the table cloth. But dinner is got through somehoAV, and I betake myself on deck. We are ploughing along under a good head of steam, the masts and yards sway beneath the starht sky, the binnacle lights throw a red glow around, and in the distance a dark shadowed coast line is just discernible. No less than the lights, the sounds are all of the sea ; the splash of the waves, the shrill whistle of the boatswain's pipe, the clank of the engines and the measured throb of the propeller, not to mention a smothered groan of unmistakable portent which noAV and then finds its Avay up through the open skyhghts.

Grouped under the bulwarks some of the Germans are chorusing in their oavii tongue — student staves and jolly Bacchanalian lays of the Rhineland — by no means in bad time or tune. A feAV passengers stand muffled in greatcoats under the lee of the companion, already beginning to fraternise, and the fresh salt air speedily becomes tainted with whiffs of the soothing weed : others are sitting in the saloon writing as for dear life, in order to send a last line of farewell ere we put out from Plymouth to-morroAV. But sea breezes have a notoriously soporific effect ; the passengers shp off below one by one, and I am left the sole occupant of the deck. The saloon lights are ex tinguished, then the cabin ones, and aU is suent, save for the ceaseless clank of the engines, and a long drawn cry as the watch is relieved.

The bright red eye of a hghthouse flashes full upon us for a moment, as moving steadily round it sweeps the gloom with its sharply defined ray, and tiU far into the night I pace the quarter-deck, watching the black coastline as we plunge on through the phosphorus tipped waves. At last I go below, and divesting in a trice, stow myself into my appointed bunk, which, by the way, is a very comfortable one, and the first evening aboard ship is at an end. Awaking, the vessel is motionless ; the beat of the screw, and the rocking and swaying are con spicuous by their absence, and the Aveaker brethren will have a feAV hours' respite from their agonies, for Ave are lying inside the Plymouth breakwater. I bethink me of having another hour or two on terra fir ma, but it is early yet : as luck wiU have it though, a fishing lugger is lying alongside all ready, and stepping on board her the sail is hoisted, and we slip along before a fresh breeze.

The morninois singularly mild for the time of year, but there is every appearance of rain. We bowl along ; on the right the Stadden heights command the entrance to the Sound ; on the left the tree-fringed bluffs of LTS BATTLEFLELDS AND LTS PEOPLE. 9 Mount Edgecumbe, and the little tAvin villages of Kingsand and CaAvsand with their square church tower, nestling in a snug corner of the bay ; in front the roofs and spires of Plymouth, whither Ave are fast speeding. I land, and having ascertained the time of the ship's departure, proceed on my way. Plymouth is a pleasant looking town enough, but no town, or country either, could present aught but a woful and depressing appearance under the steady doAvnpour which promptly set in ; nor was that all, for tUe wind got up, and many a rainy gust tore round the street corners, to the imminent jeopardy of the unwary pedestrian's umbrella.

In fact it was blowing half a gale by the time I stood upon the deck of the steam tug Sir Francis Drake at tAvelve o'clock — the latest hour by which passengers must be on board — so warned the Company's agent. But although twelve was the hour named for the departure of that useful craft, yet one o'clock still found her securely moored to the quay, for no ostensible reason, the mails being already shipped. It rained steadily and in torrents ; the sole shelter available, except the stifling hole of a cabin, was that afforded by the projecting parapet of the bridge, and I made the most of it, in common with a closely packed multitude. A large number of emigrants of the very roughest class crowded the deck, giving free vent to their impatience, in terms savouring more of force than of nicety of diction ; and enlivening the passing hour with songs, whose burden was the reverse of artistic or refining, interspersing the intervals with much Whitechapel talk.

It is unpleasant, very, to be obliged to stand on end for any length of time in a cramped position, shivering under a scanty shelter, the slightest move in the hope of shifting your wearisome attitude being rewarded by the insinuation of a cold trickhng down your neck. It is unpleasant, very, to find yourself wedged in amongst rather a ruffianly crowd which is bawl ing its jargon into your ears. But the traveller must look for unpleasantness as his daUy portion, notwithstanding which I could not repress a growl of relief when, nearly two hours after coming on to the tug, the moorings were cast loose and we paddled off to the ship. Although past the time at which we are adver tised to sail, there seem no indications of a start, luncheon is going on below, and everything looks pretty much as usual : the newly embarked emi grants ' forrard ' are jostling and cursing over their luggage, and I learn that we are to remain at anchor till the gale goes down, which means that there Ave shall be for the rest of that day, certainly all the next, and probably the day after that.

HoAvever, it Avas of no use grumbling there we ITS BATTLEFIELDS AND ITS PEOPIE. 11 Avere and we must make the best of it. The short winter afternoon faded into night, and so far from the wind abating it blew with tenfold force ; in fact, lying in my bunk listening to the howling of the gale outside as it tore and whistled through the shrouds, I thought it might be rather a good thing than otherwise that we Avere riding quietly at anchor in a safe haven. In the morning, a two masted sailing vessel was on the rocks under the Stadden cliffs, having been driven ashore during the night, so violent was the wind even in the Sound. There she lay, fast wedged, and we could see the lifeboat and a steam tug hovering about her during the greater part of the day. Our chance of a start was small, for it blew harder than ever, and we must make up our minds for another day of it with what philosophy we could.

So we took things contentedly enough, watching the white jets of surf as a huge wave would strike the breakwater, and rebounding, rear itself up to a great height, to fall Avith a roar and a splash in a milky shower — and speculating as to what success was hkely to attend the efforts made to float the ' lame duck.' Large guUs, driven in by the tempestuous weather, soared and wheeled beneath the grey angry sky in the gathering twi light. Companions in adversity had we, and plenty ; one of the Orient Company's big Australian liners, outward bound Uke ourselves, and two or three other large steamers. Smaller craft Avas there in abundance, lying at anchor all round, and Avhen evening closed in, numerous mast lanterns cast their twinkling reflection upon the waters, while ever and anon as the driving scud cleared, the lights of the distant town would glow redly in the background ; the bells striking the hour clanged forth, to be taken up by craft after craft, through out the whole flotilla ; dimly could one discern huge masses of sea, dashing over the breakwater by the ton, and the furious howling of the gale outi o o side blended with the shrill ghostlike music of the whistling shrouds.

Morning broke bright and clear ; during the night the gale had undergone a marked abatement, and it Avas reported that Ave should very soon up anchor. The big Australian was already on the move ; by nine o'clock Ave had followed her ex ample and were steaming out round the break- Avater, and the former victims began to find . out that they were not on their ' sea-legs ' yet ; that lying in smooth water is one thing, facing the remnant of a strong sou '-westerly gale another. It certainly Avas rather hard on these that break fast should be deferred till we Avere AveU out of harbour; had they been set to face their dire enemy, fortified with a substantial feed, many a pang might have been spared them. Some went so far as to hint that that august corporation, the Union Steamship Company (Limited), studied economy to an undue extent ; but great allowances must be made for people to whom life will be a sore and grievous burden for the next forty-eight hours, and who are aAvare of the same.

Although the wind has gone down, the sea has not, and is running mountains ; a stiff fresh breeze is blowing up Channel, and we bound along, throwing the spray in masses from our boAvs as we plunge and rise to the huge green rollers which tower up high overhead, as though about to thunder on the deck, and then, surging beneath the keel, rush off on the other side, curling their sharp crest into white foam, roaring and hissing in disappointed wrath. Sea birds are to be descried in all direc tions, from the large herring gull whose wings ghsten in the sun as he wheels and darts to and fro, mingling his shriU voice with the whistling of the wind, to the pretty little ' Mother Carey's chickens ' of which several are steadily foUoAving astern, dropping to pick up whatever may chance to be thrown out of the cook's galley.

Noav and then we meet a homeward bound ship standing up Channel under a spread of canvas, and a steamer may be seen ploughing on her course, a line of smoke drifting from her funnel like a dark plume. We pass the two Eddystones— the old weather beaten one, which has clone such good service in its time, looking quite dwarfed and squat by the tall and tapering shape of the new — and the waves are dashing over their base. But the high coast headlands are getting more and more indistinct ; presently their faint outline is just visible, then they fade altogether. So good-bye, Old England, for we have looked our last upon you, and now for the sunny South ! The passengers stand about in groups, or walk up and down, in which accomphshment, by the way, we have none of us yet attained perfection ; generally it resolves itself into a tentative and gingerly endeavour to persuade ourselves and others that we are quite at home pacing the reehng deck at an angle of 45 ; in fact, that, if anything, we rather prefer it — but it won't do.

Truly it is an amazing sight to contemplate two persons in their efforts to keep their feet under the circumstances ; presently one staggers more violently than usual, loses his balance, spasmodicaUy clutches his companion, and both go rolling into the scuppers. Whereat a great guffaAV ascends from the lookers-on. If you are of a sociable turn, it is not a bad plan to try and forget the attacks of the sea-demon in conversation; in short, not to think of him. Not that this always holds good, though : often have I watched an unfortunate, forming one of a jovial group, and manfully batthng with the dire qualms which surely and slowly are gaining the mastery. But it is of no use ; paler and paler grows the unhappy one, till at last he beats a sudden and precipitate retreat. ' All up with him,' says some one, and the fun goes on as before.

If any of my readers, on voyaging intent, are expecting to hear of a cure for sea-sickness in these pages they will be disappointed ; I never knew a real one, though I have heard of many. But a preventive is better, and I have always found the foUowing very simple one to answer. Firmly persuade yourself that nothing is further from your programme than that httle excursion to the side of the ship. Once on board, take your meals as regularly as you would on shore ; but, except for the purpose of taking them, do not go below : the fresh sea-breeze is a powerful revivifier, and the atmosphere 'tween decks, with the port holes closed the first two or three days of a passage, is enough to overturn the strongest. Never mind if it's cold ; wrap up well, and walk about as much as possible, and don't go below at night till you are perfectly certain of going to sleep the moment you turn in.

The great thing is to keep in the open air as much as possible. But I will get back to my narrative. The following morning saw us well into the Bay of Biscay. It Avas cold and raw ; the sky seemed to meet the seething plain of great tumbling leaden waves ; a grey mist swept the surface, and heavy showers drove the feAV of us who had ventured upon deck under the lee of the com panion, where we stood, trying to keep our footing, for the ship was rolling heavily, and the decks wet and slippery. A sudden and violent shock — some thing has given way ; it seems to me only like a heavy sea striking one of the boats hanging in the davits. Then the bell in the engine-room sounds, and the vessel stops ; the captain and quarter master, with one or two of the officers, make their way aft. Meanwhile, the sensation — not to say alarm — has extended to the saloon passengers ; the sea-sick ones discover that they are not nearly so anxious to go to the bottom as they supposed, but find their way up the companion stairs with wondrous celerity. ' What is it ? ' ' What's gone wrong ? ' &c. &c, is heard in more or less apprehen sive tones among the startled groups.

I certainly had no idea how little it took to create a scare on board ship, for, in the present instance, neither has the shaft broken nor the propeller, nor have any of the port holes been staved in, but one of the steering chains has snapped nearly opposite Avhere we were standing when the shock was first felt. The after wheel is soon manned, while a f)°sse of the crew is told off to repair the broken chain ; the engines are in motion again, and the good ship is driving along through the mist and spray, plunging over the restless watery plain, every beat of the screAv carrying us further and further from Old England. However, it is not my intention to chronicle each day's events, but rather to give an insight of hfe on board an ocean-going steamer so towards evening of the fifth day after leaving Plymouth — four is the usual run, but ours being an intermediate boat does not hurry herself — we are standing in to Madeira, and skirt the rocky coast ; its cliffs gloAving in the sunset beams.