Almost, it would seem, in an effort not to compromise the machinations of the Boers and Mpande, the British occupation force under the command of Captain Jarvis received orders to withdraw from Port Natal and return to the Cape. The redcoats were departing – for the moment at any rate. The alliance of Pretorius and Mpande, now free of any British restraint, prepared for war.
The redcoats, having lowered the Union Jack that had fluttered for months above the little fort they had named Victoria, departed on Christmas Eve 1839, aboard the schooner Vectis. Hardly was the vessel out of sight than the gleeful Boers took possession of the fort and ran up their own republican banner on the vacant flagstaff.
Within weeks a massive army had assembled, comprised of over a thousand mounted Boers and many thousands of Mpande’s warriors, led by his acclaimed general, Nongalaza kaNondela. As the alliance advanced north to seek battle with Dingane, much of Dingane’s army melted away as hundreds of his warriors decamped to join forces with Mpande.
Mpande, the king-in-waiting, did not accompany his army. The wily Boers had detained him and his eldest son, Cetshwayo, as insurance against any possible treachery. (Legend has it that to forestall any substitution of Cetshwayo with some other Zulu youth, the Boers, to make no mistake about his identity, took a nick out of his right ear.)
The white men played no part in the fighting that followed nor in the final defeat of Dingane. They stayed well away and the battle that ensued was fought between the two Zulu armies as of old: there were few or no firearms or horses to give either side an advantage. Finally, although with over 2,000 dead on the battlefield, Nongalaza and his warriors prevailed. Dingane, with a few loyal followers, fled north into the Lebombo Mountains where, most likely, Dingane was tracked down by the amaSwazi and killed.
Within six weeks of the British departure, the conflict was over. On 10 February 1840, Mpande, now recognised as the new king of the Zulus, was subjected to a mock coronation and crowned by the Boers as though by divine decree; understandably they also rejoiced and gloated at the victory acquired at no cost to themselves. In addition they demanded not only the coast and harbour already mentioned but, as a bonus and compensation, 40,000 head of cattle, which they duly received.
The northern boundary of the new Natalia Republic, as agreed, was the Tugela River. However, sixty miles from the coast, as the river veered west towards its source, its main tributary, the Buffalo flowing down from the north, assumed the boundary. But, thereafter, the demarcation line became vague and would later be violently disputed by the Boers and northern elements of the Zulu nation. To the south, towards the Cape, where the amaPondo of Chief Faku held sway, there was no acknowledged boundary at all. However, the furthest flung outpost of the British Empire was not far away. One hundred and fifty miles south of Port Natal, on the banks of the Mngazi River, there was a British fort also named Mngazi.
The new Republic, not satisfied with the vast territory that its citizens had, seemingly, with Heaven’s help, miraculously acquired by right of conquest, began armed excursions to the south. The ensuing uproar would, however, soon awaken the dozing British Lion. Worse still for the imprudent Boers, they naively invited both Dutch and American vessels to use their harbour. In fact they believed that the supercargo of a Dutch vessel, the Brazillia, was an official of the Netherlands government. He assured the gullible Boers that both Holland and France would uphold their cause in exchange for trade and harbour facilities. The Boers, in turn, pledged to resist any British interference with armed force if necessary. News of these happenings on its northern border, with the possibility of a rival naval power occupying Port Natal, was not long in reaching the ears of the Cape government, causing Governor Napier to issue a proclamation, dated 2 December 1841, advising the Boers that it was the government’s intention to reoccupy Port Natal with a military presence. The Proclamation concluded with the following caution:
I hereby warn all British-born subjects, and particularly those who, after the 18th day of January 1806, have been born within the Colony [Cape Colony] of parents who at the time of their birth, by reason of their permanent residence in this Colony, or otherwise, owed allegiance to, and were subjects of, the Crown, that they cannot, by their removal from this Colony [Cape] to any place whatsoever, divest themselves of the allegiance which they owe by reason of their birth to the British Crown.
The Boer response, dated 21 February 1842, was emphatic that the emigrant farmers would, if necessary, defend their liberty by armed force. They began by pointing out that the Griquas, a people of mixed European and Khoikhoi blood, who had moved north/east out of the Cape Colony had, as an example, been recognised by the Cape government as an independent people. The Boers went on to mention that they had no hatred for the British and only wished to live in peace; that Chief Faku had no claim to the land that he occupied; that they had in their possession the contract made between Retief and Dingane; that they believed they had been unjustly labelled by the British as ‘a rude people, who, tired of civilised laws and church discipline, sought to lead a libidinous’ life. The response concluded: ‘Should we, after such bloodshed and expense, be suppressed, the fire will merely have been extinguished to rage with more force on the day of vengeance.’
There could be no mistaking the Boer intent to fight and to complicate matters still further, there were a number of British settlers amongst the Boer community at Port Natal, the whole white population seemingly happy and prospering well. In fact, theVoortrekker government had offered 15,000 acres of the best land to the British settlers. So, being unable to find any further alternative, the Cape Government decided to bluff and intimidate the Boers by sending a military expedition to Port Natal in what was nothing but a forlorn hope that they would peacefully abandon their hard-won independence and return to the loathsome fold of the ‘Great White Queen’.
The officer selected to command this expedition would, first and foremost, need to be a diplomat and a skilful negotiator; a man who, whilst expressing rapport and sympathy with the Voortrekkers and their aspirations, would be able, with a kind but firm hand, to lead them back to British authority. Unfortunately, the man chosen was largely devoid of any such talents. Captain Thomas Charlton Smith was as tough an old soldier as they came, and as events would reveal, completely unsuited for this delicate task. He was the son of an army surgeon and at the age of nine had entered the Royal Navy as a midshipman. By his thirteenth birthday he had been wounded three times in battle and had then transferred to the army, joining his father’s regiment, the 27th (Inniskilling) Regiment of Foot. He subsequently fought throughout the Peninsular War and finally at Waterloo where the 27th suffered 68 per cent casualties, Smith himself being wounded yet again. Now at the age of forty-four he commanded Fort Mngazi, the furthest-flung of all the British garrisons on the Cape Frontier; and compounding the tragedy of Smith’s appointment was the vacillation of the Cape government. Smith’s orders from Napier were that he must act with the greatest caution and that he must not express any recognition of the Boers other than their being the Queen’s subjects. Furthermore, Smith and his redcoats should ‘. . . be civil and kind in their demeanor towards the immigrant farmers because the great object of the government is to consolidate these misguided men’. No easy task for Smith. Especially as the Voortrekkers had steadfastly proclaimed:
We are Dutch South Africans by birth; immediately after we quitted Her Majesty’s territories in South Africa, we published our independence and from that time to this moment we have acted as an independent people, governed by ourselves according to our own laws, and consequently ceased to be British subjects; the country we inhabit we have legally acquired [by right of conquest?] and has never been a British province or colony to this moment.
The Boers also believed that Holland would support their bid for independence, having being encouraged in this by Johan Smellekamp, the supercargo of the visiting Dutch ship already mentioned who, it seems, led the Boers to believe that he held some sort of diplomatic authority. Yet, the Netherlands government had no intention of getting mixed up in a confrontation with Great Britain, and as soon as the news of the happenings at Port Natal reached Holland, the government announced that it was in close alliance with Her Britannic Majesty and that the King of Holland and his ministers would take every possible step to mark their entire disapproval of the unjustifiable use of their name.
Yet there was additional support for the Voortrekkers from a most unexpected quarter – although it could never be other than passive: Major Charters, who it will be remembered had led the earlier redcoat expedition to Port Natal, stated his unequivocal belief that the Boer migration from the Cape was legal and justifiable. Thus it was, in this turmoil of uncertain claims and conflicting opinions, that Captain Smith set out on a 200-mile march from Fort Mngazi to Port Natal. His force comprised 263 officers and men, a howitzer and two 6-pounder gun and included elements of the Royal Artillery, Royal Engineers, Sappers and Miners, Cape Mounted Rifles and two companies of his own regiment, the 27th Foot. In addition there were about sixty well-armed white wagoners to handle the 600 oxen and fifty-four wagons that completed the convoy. In the event of Smith’s bluff being called, as indeed it would be, it was a detachment that, from the outset, was inadequate to take on its opponents and enforce British authority. Nine months later Smith would accuse Napier of sending him on an expedition with insufficient men and arms.
Fort Mngazi at that time was not the most comfortable spot; lonely and rife with disease. So much so that Mrs Lonsdale, the wife of Captain Lonsdale, insisted on accompanying the expedition with her two children despite every argument to dissuade her. Lonsdale had taken the place of Captain George Durnford who, struck down with rheumatism, would have to remain bedridden at the Fort but, would as we shall hear, catch up with the expedition later by sea.
The journey that lay ahead of Smith’s convoy would be through some of the toughest but, in parts, most beautiful countryside in southern Africa: immense gorges that would force protracted detours, tropical forests, flooded rivers and sometimes, at low tide, beaches on which the giant skeletons of whales lay to amaze the awe-struck redcoats. It was recorded that in all, 122 streams or rivers had to be crossed – the approaches and exits to many seemingly too impossibly steep to negotiate. It was anticipated that the journey, at ten miles a day, would take three weeks but, as Durnford recorded, the contrary Mrs Lonsdale occasioned the convoy to delay for several days (he does not say exactly how she caused this to come about) and, consequently, by the time the great Mzimvubu (‘Umyimvooboo’) was reached, it was then in flood, causing a further ten days halt, much no doubt, to the fury of Smith and the embarrassment of Lonsdale. There were other officers who had brought their wives along, as had many of the wagon drivers, so that it came as no surprise to the convoy that one child was born en route whilst one soldier died of ‘fatigue’. His lonely grave is still to be found some seventy miles short of Durban.
The Boers had no idea that a British invasion force was gradually drawing closer, the stealth of its approach being achieved by the deception of the local Natal Zulus for, of the two white ‘tribes’ that they had to contend with, the locals preferred the ‘English’. Consequently, whenever a Zulu was questioned as to whether any British movement into republican territory had been seen, the answer was ‘none’. Thus, much to the astonishment and rage of the Boers, Smith’s convoy suddenly appeared on the hills at Robert Newton Dunn’s farm, above the port, not more than half a dozen miles from the harbour itself. Had the Boers been aware of Smith’s approach they could have mustered a commando of a thousand armed and mounted men that in a matter of hours would have had the British convoy, strung out for over two miles, at their mercy.
A short distance below Dunn’s farm, named Seaview, there was the Voortrekker settlement of Congella, a spot much favoured for the fertility of its soil and the perennial stream that gushed from the rocks, tumbling sweet water in what seemed to be an appalling waste, into the sea. Over 150 years later the stream, now surrounded by a small tropical park, still flows forth as strong as ever.
But the Boers were not taken entirely unawares. It had been anticipated that the British would intrude upon their lives once again at some time or another and they had made a number of preparations, one of which had been the appointment, by the Volksraad, of Andreas Pretorius as Commandant-General, with the power to conscript commandos whose individual members would be required to swear an oath to defend their homeland.
Smith, having finally arrived and with the momentous struggle of the journey behind him, had important decisions to make. First he had to secure the harbour as reinforcements and supplies would come by sea. Major Charters’ Fort Victoria was still there with the flag of the Republic of Natalia flying above it. Smith also required a good defensive position with a ready supply of drinking water – the fort met neither criteria so on the morning of the 4th May, accompanied by his officer of engineers, Lieutenant Gibb, Surgeon Fraser and several of the English settlers who had rode into camp that morning, Smith made his way down to the port. The settlers who accompanied him would now be seen as having aligned themselves with the invaders.
Smith also took with him a corporal and three men of the Cape Mounted Rifles as escort and, unmolested, Smith rode into Fort Victoria, pulled down the Republican flag, raised the Union Jack and spiked the Boer gun that commanded the harbour; not the best way to establish diplomatic relations. Then, after surveying the locality with the assistance of the English locals, Smith selected a defensive position on an area of open ground close to the harbour which offered a good field of fire for his guns, nearby grazing for the oxen and a supply of fresh water, albeit rather brackish.
11. A sketch of Port Natal circa 1842. To the left, what was once Fort Victoria, has now become the Boer Custom’s Headquarters with the flag of the Republic of Natalia at the mast head. In the foreground small coasters are at anchor whilst a large ocean-going vessel looms on the horizon.
(Local History Museum, Durban)
Meanwhile the news of the British occupation had spread like wildfire to the homesteads of the Republic and soon commandos of stern, determined, fully armed and self-sufficient men astride the best horseflesh in southern Africa, were riding towards Port Natal.
Pretorius, like Smith, had received orders not to fire the first shot and thought it best, so it seems, to keep a low profile least a meeting with the British commander might provoke a conflict from which neither could withdraw. Instead of an appearance in person, Pretorius sent a small deputation of three burgers, Meyer, Ferreira and Morewood, to see Smith and, on the strength of what they had been told by Smellekamp, inform him that the Republic of Natalia was in treaty with and under the protection of Holland. This must have come as news to Smith but he was unimpressed and sent the deputation on its way. Wasting no more time, the following morning the whole convoy descended the hills and with drawn swords and fixed bayonets marched through the little village of Congella and onto the open plain that had been selected the previous day as a campsite and which was known to the Zulus as Ithafa labalindi (The Plain of the Lookout). There the wagons were formed into a circular laager and entrenched while Fort Victoria, commanding the harbour entrance, was staffed with some artillerymen, a cannon and a detachment of the 27th, all under the command of a Royal Artillery sergeant. ‘Fort Victoria’ sounds a grand name and is misleading for what it was, namely a stone-built storehouse, once belonging to a Port Natal trader, that had been reinforced during the previous British occupation under Major Charters.
12. The British camp is turned into a makeshift fort with a moat before the laagered wagons. (Africana Museum, Johannesburg)
Pretorius had kept out of the way but with the news of Smith’s aggressive tactics, decided to make an appearance. He arrived at Congella several days later, having assembled a force of over sixty burghers to back him up. On receiving the news that Pretorius was in town Smith sent him an urgent notice to attend the British camp and state his intentions. The invitation was refused which infuriated Smith who, early the next day, at the head of a hundred men of the 27th, the Cape Mounted Rifles and a cannon loaded with grapeshot, marched on Congella causing panic and alarm along the route. On nearing the little town Smith and his army were confronted by a deputation of two burghers representing, they said, the Volksraad and the community of Port Natal. They requested Smith to halt but he brushed them aside and marched on. Finally Pretorius made an appearance: an imposing man, six feet tall, and like Smith a man with an impressive martial record – albeit that the force he had commanded at the moment of its greatest triumph had been a civilian one. Due to Pretorius’ generalship, his men at Blood River had won one of the most remarkable battles in the history of warfare and he and Smith, men of such different cultures, were well matched. Of the two, Pretorius had a greater talent for diplomacy and was less intransigent.
Pretorius now stood astride the track, and as Smith approached doffed his hat like a European courtier and made a low bow. Perhaps Smith was taken aback by this show of gallantry; in any event he halted and, to further astonish him, Pretorius offered Smith and his redcoats the hospitality of Congella. As far as Smith was concerned such would amount to fraternising with the enemy; the offer was bluntly refused. Pretorius then protested that Smith’s march and his take-over of Fort Victoria was extremely provocative and that the Voortrekkers would never consent to British rule or to becoming British subjects. In turn, Smith countered that he would not heed those presuming to question the right of British troops to march in British territory. Pretorius, no doubt to clear the air and ease the tension, requested time in which to consult with the Volksraad, the supreme Voortrekker authority, and a fifteen-day truce was agreed. Smith was happy with the stand-off which would provide time to put the finishing touches to his defences and to receive supplies via the harbour. Due to the delays that had been encountered during the expedition’s epic journey, Smith’s force was desperately short of provisions. Nevertheless, as would be expected from an officer with a record of active service such as Smith’s, including the crowning accolade of a presence at Waterloo, Smith had no doubt of the invincibility of British arms as well as his own invincibility against a mob of armed farmers. He lacked the perception of Major Charters, who four years earlier had stated his belief that the Boers were ‘most dexterous in the use of arms and with the support of native tribes were capable of besieging Cape Town Castle’.
Although Smith and Pretorius had agreed to a truce, during which there would be no provocative action, within days Smith perceived what he believed to be a threatening move towards his camp: Boer guards had been placed at intervals along the Congella track; an aggressive move in Smith’s opinion. Pretorius apologised and removed them, but to ensure there was no misunderstanding, Smith informed Pretorius that should there be a similar incident, he would march on Congella and burn it to the ground along with the dwellings of any other hostile persons in the vicinity.
Ten days after the expedition had reached Port Natal a small supply ship, the Pilot, arrived bringing with it much needed provisions, the garrison having being almost on starvation rations for the last few days. The vessel also brought two large cannons, 18-pounders, to strengthen Smith’s defences – one for Fort Victoria and one for the entrenched camp. But best of all, as far as the troops were concerned, was a plentiful supply of rum.
As the fifteen days sped by, Voortrekker reinforcements inconspicuously made their way to the port and the Volksraad moved the seat of government from Pietermaritzburg to Congella. On 16 May, Pretorius was instructed to deliver a letter to Smith accusing him of dishonouring Voortrekker sovereignty and demanding that he and his troops remove themselves from the Republic by noon. Smith took this inflammatory declaration with surprising calm and in reply requested that the Voortrekkers abandon their hostile attitude and that he still regarded them as British subjects. Both Smith and Pretorius had been instructed not to fire the first shot but the Volksraad, no doubt feeling that they had Smith immobile behind his earthworks and wagons, decided on punitive action. The redcoats could be starved into submission: Pretorius resolved to drive off Smith’s draught oxen. The redcoats had refused to leave; soon they would be unable to do so. In addition the Boer attitude that had been one of tolerance, changed: the local English settlers who, since the defeat of Dingane, had lived amongst the Boers as members of the community enjoying Boer protection, had been seen as owing allegiance to the Republic. Now the Volksraad issued a decree to the effect that collaboration with the British would be seen as treason and punishable by three years in prison.
Adulphe Delegorgue, the French hunter and artist whom we have encountered earlier in this book, was at Port Natal at the time having just returned from a hunting trip. He was immediately told that the British had come and in anticipation of being besieged the Boers had confiscated all the food: rice, flour, coffee and any other things that could be of use, causing an uproar amongst the traders. Hardly had Delegorgue considered the implications of this news than his cottage was suddenly invaded by a posse of Boer horsemen, 150 strong, who commandeered it for use as their centre of operations for the rustling of Smith’s draught oxen. As the mounted men careered around driving the oxen before them, it became clear to Smith that his transport was being stolen and he ordered one of the cannon to immediately open fire, but no damage was done and the rustlers escaped unscathed. Infuriated, Smith ordered out a detachment of infantry in pursuit and it must have been at that moment – had it not occurred to him before – that he realised how vulnerable he was; how inadequate the force at his command and the folly of authority in placing an ineffectual military presence in hostile country hundreds of miles from reinforcements. The infantry could not, of course, pursue the mounted rustlers and were jeered and mocked as the caracoling horsemen disappeared with the oxen. Smith’s expedition was now as immobile as a modern convoy that had run out of fuel. In addition, in Smith’s view, the dignity of the British Crown had been affronted and treason committed. As Captain Lonsdale marched his dispirited detachment back to the camp, Smith decided to take immediate action to redeem British authority just as the Boers suspected he would. Smith later reported in a despatch to Cape Town that the Boer action ‘. . . rendered it absolutely necessary that some steps should be taken in order to prevent a repetition of such outrages’.
The night of 23 May was cloudless and lit by a brilliant moon. Smith’s plan was to descend from his camp at 11 p.m. with a force consisting of Royal Artillery, Royal Engineers, a hundred rank and file of the 27th, five officers (one of whom was Captain Lonsdale who had commanded the abortive pursuit earlier in the day) and two mounted Cape Riflemen. Including Captain Smith, there were in all, 139 personnel. The force would make its way through some wooded country, already cleared of any spies, and onto the beach where, with the tide being low, it would continue unhindered along the hard sand until level with Congella. To support this manoeuvre Smith had acquired a flat-bottomed boat into which a howitzer had been secured under the command of an artillery sergeant. The boat was to row up a convenient channel and, on arrival of Smith’s party, immediately open fire on Congella with shot and shell; at the same time Smith would likewise open fire with his two 6-pounders, mounted on carriages drawn by teams of the remaining oxen. Then, after a brief bombardment to demoralise the enemy (including women and children), the redcoats would charge with bayonets fixed. A good plan but, nevertheless, flawed. The Boers, alert to the likelihood of retaliation, had posted mounted pickets between Congella and the British camp and they detected the advancing column. A hurried ambush of 200 or more burghers, armed with hunting weapons far superior to the Brown Bess muskets of the infantry, had been rushed to a stand of mangrove trees just above the beach. Now, in the deep shade of their concealment, the Boers waited as the British drew nearer with Smith fuming at the absence of the boat-mounted howitzer which had got stuck on a sandbank and would take no part in the assault on Congella.
The Boer ambush party waited, until the British came level and then with the redcoats a mere 800 yards from Congella, they opened fire at point blank range, the soldiers silhouetted black against the moonlit beach. The redcoats sought to find a mark at which to aim while the artillery struggled to bring their guns to bear as the oxen, wounded and maddened by the commotion, went berserk plunging headlong into the despairing redcoats. Lieutenant Wyatt, of the Royal Artillery, mortally wounded, was one of the first to fall. Smith had but one option left: to form up and bayonet charge the mangrove trees but his men were too scattered to rally. There was no choice: retreat was the only option. Leaving the 6-pounders behind, trophies for the victors, Smith and his devastated men made a running retreat back to camp closely followed by the enemy who continued to harass the redcoats all the way whilst the incoming tide, seemingly in league with the Boers, swept away and drowned several soldiers who were endeavouring to take a shorter route along the beach.
Once inside the fortifications of the camp, the redcoats fought back and for the rest of the night a fire fight, with cannon and grapeshot on both sides, continued until dawn, but few casualties were sustained. With the coming of day the Boers withdrew to a safe distance, well out of range of the British guns, enabling Smith, on 25 May, to complete a long report to his commanding officer in the Cape. It was addressed to both Lieutenant-Colonel Hare and to the Lieutenant-Governor. It read in part:
Sir, it is with feelings of deep regret that I have the honour to communicate to you the disastrous result of an attack made by the force under my command on the immigrant farmers congregated at the Congella Camp at this place.
In my last dispatch, I detailed the various steps taken by the farmers to annoy the troops, and my determination to abstain, if possible, from hostilities, if it could be done without detriment to the honour of the Service . . .
Smith went on to give a fair and accurate assessment of the battle and then continued:
. . . A severe loss resulted to the troops in consequence. Finding, therefore, that I was not likely to accomplish the purpose for which I had the attachment in motion, and that the men were falling fast, I thought it expedient to retire, effecting this object after some delay, the partial rising of the tide rendering the road difficult. The troops, however, reached camp about 2 o’clock in tolerable order, leaving behind them, I regret to say, the guns, which the death of the oxen, rendered it impossible to remove.
Thinking it probable that this partial success of the farmers might induce them to make an immediate attack on the camp, I made such preparations as I thought necessary; and found my suspicions realised shortly afterwards, a large body of them opening a heavy fire on three sides of it . . .
Smith then expressed his regret at the death of Lieutenant Wyatt and applauded the gallant conduct of Captain Lonsdale and Lieutenant Lennard, both of whom had been severely wounded. He continued:
The loss on the part of the Boers is difficult to estimate but I’m told it has been severe. The whole of this day they have made no movements; but I have to give them the credit of treating such of the wounded as fell into their hands with great humanity. These, with the bodies of those who fell, they sent to the camp this afternoon and tomorrow the sad duty of interring our departed comrades will take place.
What steps the farmers may subsequently take I cannot at this moment surmise with any degree of certainty; but I think it probable they will again demand that I should quit the territory they call their own within a specific time. I shall, of course, do what I can to maintain myself in my present position but considering the number of the disaffected, and the means they possess of molesting the troops, I beg to urge the necessity of a speedy reinforcement, as I scarcely consider the troops at present stationed here sufficient for the performance of the duty to which they had been assigned.
I have the honour and etc.
Signed: T C Smith, Captain
27th Regiment, Commandant.
Smith had realised that he and his men could not possibly survive, nor British esteem and authority prevail, without reinforcements, and he desperately pondered how to get his dispatch to the Cape 600 miles away. He turned for help to George Cato, a British resident of Port Natal and a settler of long standing. Cato in turn recommended Dick King as the best possible courier. King was also a British local, his presence at the port going back to the time of Allen Gardiner, who could converse fluently in both Zulu and the Dutch language spoken by the Boers. Being an acknowledged horseman and an intrepid hunter, King was the man made for the moment. It was proposed that two of the Cape Mounted Rifles’ horses should convey King and his young native servant, Ndongeni. Later that day, under the cover of darkness, George Cato, his brother Joseph and the two riders led the horses to the Point, close by Fort Victoria, where a boat was tied. The Cato brothers rowed whilst King and his Zulu companion held the reins of the horses swimming along behind. Finally, the boat and horses touched bottom on the Bluff and the riders prepared to head south on what was to become, perhaps, the most legendary ride in the history of southern Africa. As the horsemen stealthily made their way up the beach into the bush, the Cato brothers, with equal caution, commenced to row, as silently as possible, back across the bay.
At some point during the course of the day – exactly when is uncertain – a schooner, the Pilot, commanded by Captain Ian McDonald, had arrived at the port, as had another vessel, the Mazeppa, bringing Smith’s supplies from the Cape. Amongst the consumable treasures there was a sorely needed supply of rum and to add to Smith’s defences, equally sorely needed, a long-barrelled 18-pounder gun. However, the Boers, elated with their unexpected success of the previous day in which they perceived the help of the Almighty, now saw another opportunity. Pretorius, having organised a commando of a hundred burgers, despatched them by a long circuitous route, around the British positions, until they eventually burst from the bush almost under the noses of the redcoat detachment supervising the unloading of the vessels. Greatly outnumbered, the soldiers hurriedly retreated into the ramshackle fort where they kept the enemy at bay having sustained two men killed and two wounded. It was a situation that could only worsen: with no water supply and the prospect of the ‘fort’ being pounded to bits by the cannons now being brought to bear, Sergeant Barry, the NCO in charge, surrendered. The soldiers were taken prisoner and the gleeful Boers, stocked up with British provisions, marched them off to Congella where they were treated with consideration – not so the ten British settlers who were arrested the following morning, George Cato and Henry Ogle amongst them. They were put into the stocks and chained night and day. After a week, having been convicted of treason, they were marched to Pietermaritzburg and imprisoned in conditions of incredible vileness while the soldiers were given parole to walk around the town.
Smith and his besieged troops now had to apply all their knowledge and every endeavour to improving the defences of the ‘camp’. The area occupied inside the perimeter of stockaded wagons was approximately two acres and in shape a lop-sided square. Inside the laager the earlier trenches were deepened, with parapets on either side, which in turn were strengthened with sods. A ‘shelter’ trench for the wounded, with lay-byes, was cut internally across the width of the camp and magazines were constructed at the southern and northern ends of the perimeter. The remaining 18-pounder gun was situated facing south with two other smaller gun batteries facing north and east. The well that lay outside the western perimeter was deepened and the brackish marsh that supplied much of the water was carefully nurtured. Into this confined and vulnerable space were crammed close on 500 people, including women and children. Added to the burden were the sick and wounded, some of whom were seriously maimed with limbs requiring amputation; Dr Fraser, the 27th’s medical officer would need all his skill and endurance if a number of his patients were not to die. The following day a deputation approached the camp with the proposition that Captain Smith and his men surrender, board the vessels in the harbour and sail away to the Cape. However, there were conditions attached that Smith found outrageously unacceptable and after a few days negotiations came to an end.
The siege now began in earnest and on the morning of 31 May the Boers, having copied the sod-made batteries and embrasures of Smith’s camp, opened a bombardment with the cannons so recently captured from the enemy, sending 122 roundshot crashing into the British defences. Captain Lonsdale, who, it will be remembered had been severely wounded in the abortive attack on Congella, had, for the last six days, been confined to the tent which he was lucky enough to share with his wife and two small children. In a letter written later to his mother, he remembered the time as a period during which, due to the nature of his wound, he had hardly been able to move, but:
On the morning of the 31st May, just before sunrise, we were saluted by a 6-pound shot, which passed through the officers’ mess tent, knocking their kettles and cooking apparatus in all directions. Everyone, of course, went to his station in the ditch: the Boers then kept up an incessant fire from four pieces of artillery and small arms, never ceasing for a moment during the whole day till sunset. During the whole day Margaret and Jane [his wife and daughter] were lying on the ground in the tent close by me. Many shot, both large and small, passed through the tent close to us. James [his son] was lying in my other tent on the ground, with his legs on the legs of a table, and his dog with him, when a 6-pound shot struck the legs of the table just above him, and cut them in two, and struck him in the face with some of the splinters. . . . When the attack of the day was over, all the officers came to our tents expecting to find us all dead.
The following morning the Lonsdale family moved to the protection of a shelter trench and once again the bombardment commenced and continued until noon when a Boer deputation appeared carrying a flag of truce. They proposed, very gallantly, that the women and children should leave the camp whereupon the Boers would place them, for their own protection, aboard the Mazeppa, it becoming a sort of temporary prison ship. There they would be safe from the fighting. This considerate offer was sensibly accepted by Smith and the women and children, including Mrs Lonsdale, were escorted out of harm’s way down to the harbour. Once gone, the truce ended and not only was the bombardment renewed with vigour, but also each night hundreds of Boers emerged from hiding in order to extend their trenches and embrasures closer and closer to the camp so that within a few days, they were in a position to fire with impunity on anything that moved. It was a situation that could not be tolerated and on the night of 18 June, the twenty-fourth day of the siege, Smith ordered a night attack. Unfortunately for the redcoats, at close quarters the Boers heard and saw the British coming and opened fire, killing Ensign Prior and two men of the 27th. The redcoats fired in return and then, without any hesitation, charged with the bayonet catching and killing many of the enemy before they could get away. Then with additional help from the camp the redcoats set about destroying, as best they could, the enemy embrasures and filling in the closer trenches. The Boers never attempted to recover their lost ground, nor carry the camp by direct assault but the unrelenting bombardment continued while the redcoats, reduced to living on dead crows, scraps of horse flesh and anything edible, were, as Lonsdale described to his mother, close to starvation:
All this time nearly all our provisions were gone; we were living on our horses and biscuit dust – six ounces of the former and four of the latter per day; sometimes we had a little corn. We dug a well in our camp, but the water was bad. Sometimes it was difficult to cook our little provisions for the want of wood. The wounded suffered very much, as the doctor had nothing in the way of medical comforts. I was lying in the trench twenty-seven days, hardly able to move and not so much as a jacket on.
While Smith and his redcoats continued to grit their teeth, unbeknown to them things had been happening. It will be remembered that the Cato brothers had rowed Dick King across the bay with George Cato ending up in the stocks. However, Joseph Cato had evaded capture, having hidden aboard the Mazeppa, and was still there when the women and children were marched aboard. The Boers, not being a seafaring nation, knew little about boats or sailing, so as a precaution against the Mazeppa being stolen and put to sea, had removed the anchors, believing that no one would take the boat if it were incapable of being brought to a halt; they should, of course, have taken the rudder. The Mazeppa not only had her rudder intact, she was, in addition, merely tied up to the wharf by a couple of cables and had on board Joseph Cato, a capable ship’s captain.
Joseph determined, with the first favourable weather conditions, to hijack the Mazeppa and sail off in the hope of finding a British warship; the women and children would be his crew. However, the ship, once underway, would come under the Boer cannon guarding the harbour and would be a short-range target for anyone with a gun: some protection was required. The lady prisoners, making the excuse of spring-cleaning their quarters, took out all the blankets for airing, hanging them along the sides of the vessel nearest to the wharf where they would give a degree of protection.
On 10 June, just as the tide was right, a lively breeze caused a fluttering of waves across the harbour and Joseph waited no longer. The women, having being instructed in the tasks they were to perform, were seen, under Joseph’s instructions, cutting the cables and hoisting the sails: slowly the vessel gained momentum. For several moments the Boers failed to comprehend what was happening right under their very noses and then it was too late: too much water lay between them and the ship. The Boers resorted to the only course left at their disposal: they opened fire but the cannon shot was hopelessly misdirected and the small arms fire ineffectual: the Mazeppa, with her wildly-cheering crew of women and children, sailed away down the harbour and out to the open sea. Now it seemed that Smith and his men had a chance – albeit a fairly remote one – of their plight being revealed but, unbeknown to them, a rescue mission was already on its way from the Cape. The intrepid Dick King, accompanied by his companion Ndongeni for the first half of the journey, riding though country teeming with wild animals, crisscrossed by deep gorges and rivers infested by crocodiles – and in spite of coming close to being killed by amaBongeni warriors who had mistaken him for a Boer – had arrived at Grahamstown, having covered 600 miles in ten days. A fine equestrian statue commemorating Dick King’s magnificent ride is still a prominent feature of Durban’s Marine Esplanade.
Soon the drums were beating and the redcoats marching: the first to hear King’s news was the 27th Regiment in Grahamstown, a hundred of whom, the grenadier company under the command of Captain Durnford, were soon on the road to Port Elizabeth eighty miles away. Meanwhile another rider had carried the news 480 miles on to Cape Town causing the redcoats of the 25th Regiment to be hurried aboard HMS Southampton, a fifty-gun frigate that, fortuitously, had been at anchor in the harbour. The whole relieving force was placed under the command of none other than Colonel Abraham Cloete, the sinister figure of fifteen years earlier, who it will be remembered, would not permit King Shaka’s emissaries to proceed to Cape Town.
Although the grenadier company of the 27th had a head start on the rest of the relieving force, they had no ship awaiting them at Port Elizabeth but their luck was in as Captain William Bell of the Conch, a trading schooner, was not only an adventurer but also a patriot who was prepared to put his vessel at risk for Queen and Country – but not so, it would seem, his crew; when the news of the impending voyage reached the ship they were suddenly taken ill. Bell later wrote that he took a doctor with him to the vessel but he knew the symptoms of the illness and the cure better than the medical man, and straight away prescribed three dozen lashes for any man who deserted or went ashore. Bell continued:
13. HMS Southampton arrives off Port Natal bringing troops and giving their landing covering fire. (Africana Museum, Johannesburg)
I found the grenadiers of the 27th Regiment drawn up in line, stowing away a half-aum of Cape Smoke [cheap brandy] that the commandant had given them, at the same time entertaining the town’s people with songs. After they embarked in the boats, my gallant volunteers were ordered to the front for embarkation. Many efforts were made to discourage me from going, and I was repeatedly told that I was going to serve a government that would not thank me. . . . About midnight a wind came from the north-west, and before daylight we were underway, the soldiers cheering the ships in the harbour as we passed them. . . . We had to contend against adverse winds and currents, and only reached Natal after a passage of thirteen days. Nevertheless the time passed merrily, as the old 27th produced a fine lot of officers and soldiers. On sighting the bluff I told Captain Durnford, commander of the troops, that we could not enter the harbour with the wind then blowing, and that we should be obliged to enter in the outer roads, and wait for a fair wind. He asked me if I could devise a plan to get some of the Boers on board. I proposed that the soldiers should go below, when a few miles to the westward of the bluff, in which the captain concurred. The men were then ordered below, which was cheerfully obeyed, leaving the hatches off to give them as much air as possible; the officers in plain clothes remained on deck. On coming around the bluff we were soon convinced that the rebels were in full possession of the harbour entrance, and could distinctly hear firing between the Boers and the troops in the camp. There was also a vessel in the harbour, which proved to be the brig ‘Pilot’, of Cape Town, which had been taken possession of by the Boers. We came to anchor in the usual way, making it appear that we were unconscious of what was going on. We waited some time, but finding that no boat came out, we lowered ours, and prepared to go in with the ‘flag of truce’. They had just pushed off, when a boat was observed coming; we therefore called our boat back. All this time the soldiers were below almost suffocated. As the boat approached I observed two persons sitting, and as I expected them to be of some importance, I went to the gangway to receive them. As the boat neared the ship, I observed one of them to be the port captain; the other although previously acquainted with, I did not know at first sight, on account of his rich uniform; he proved to be the ‘military secretary’.
14. Capt. William Bell of the Conch in later life after he had become Harbour Master of Durban. (KZN Archives, Pietermaritzburg)
The visiting dignitaries came aboard and Bell continued:
I shall never forget their surprise and change of countenance. The first thing that met their view was the grenadiers sitting in the main hatchway as thick as bees. . . . The port captain appeared to have some doubts whether he had made a satisfactory impression on our minds with regard to his kind feelings towards the English, and repeated his former assurance of fidelity. He gave us a very truthful statement of what had occurred subsequent to King’s leaving with dispatches for the old colony [the Cape Colony].
As we have heard Lieutenant Prior and some men had been killed while making an attack on the enemy’s entrenchment, and that the camp was in a deplorable state. Horse flesh with a little biscuit dust, and a few oats, occasionally shooting a stray crow hovering over the camp after the offal, were all they had for subsistence. The two Boer officials wondered whether or not Captain Durnford was going to hang them from the yardarm there and then. They were greatly relieved when instead he requested them to take a letter to Commandant Pretorius which would request permission for the assistant surgeon of the 27th to go ashore with medical supplies for Smith’s wounded – such would also be the means of informing the camp that relief was at hand. It was agreed that the following morning Durnford would send a boat for an answer. As the day progressed the firing ashore intensified but as darkness fell Durnford sent up a rocket in the direction of the camp which was immediately acknowledged by a rocket in return. Smith and his men were still holding out.
The following day the mate of the Conch, accompanied by a sergeant of the 27th, rode ashore to seek a reply to Durnford’s letter. They were met by Boer officials who informed them that neither the surgeon nor anyone else would be permitted to go to the camp or go ashore.
Durnford, with the grenadier company at his back, was tempted to get ashore by some means or another and storm the Point, but commonsense prevailed and the redcoats, crammed aboard the Conch like cattle in a truck, settled down to await whatever fate would provide – their patience was awarded almost immediately: far away to the south, only discernable with Captain Bell’s powerful telescope, the tops of three masts, barely visible, were peeping above the horizon; after due scrutiny Bell pronounced them to be the rigging of a man-of-war; HMS Southampton would shortly arrive. Durnford rather recklessly decided he would go and meet her. He later described the occasion:
I ordered the ship’s boat for I was Admiral and everything else, and putting a compass into her started with the captain to board, determined to bring her to her anchorage that night, and after pulling at least fifteen miles, we did get on board in the pitch dark. I could not distinguish one person from another but found it was the frigate with Colonel Cloete, Major D’Urban and three hundred of the 25th on board. So down into the cabin we went with all the bigwigs, and pulling out our plans we settled what was to be done the next morning. I left them again about 10 o’clock and got to my own vessel about 1, having left directions that a shell and a rocket should be fired every quarter of an hour till I returned. . . . And about 2 the frigate came to anchor close alongside of us. We then went to supper and to bed.
But the best-laid plans can go awry and the breeze that had been expected with the coming of dawn did not materialise and the situation remained static: a battle waiting to commence; the Boers lining the shore with riflemen on both sides of the harbour and with cannon loaded at the narrow entrance whilst, just out of range, the British vessels also waited, the time being spent in rigging planks of yellowwood along the sides of the Conch to give protection to the exposed helmsmen and troops – it was well known that one of the Boer tactics in the defense of their harbour would be to aim for the helmsmen thus sending any invading vessel out of control. But, as far as the British were concerned, not all the morning was wasted: the captain of HMS Southampton desired to get as close to the shore as safety would allow, both from the point of view of enemy cannon fire and the danger of going aground. Captain Bell was summoned aboard the warship and with his knowledge of the harbour, agreed to supervise the warping of the vessel – that is moving it only by means of hauling on ropes with one end secured to the ship and the other attached to anchors ashore. This manoeuvre was successfully completed and by noon the Southampton, with her gun ports open, lay broadside-on to the Boer defences. The Conch, although a schooner, was nevertheless armed, and with Captain Turner of the Royal Artillery on board, egging on Captain Bell, the vessel was also warped to a position that brought her guns within range of the Boer harbour defenses. The gunners of both ships then tried the range, cheered on by the crews and redcoats, as shot and shell rained down on the enemy entrenchments. By noon the tide had risen and with the sudden coming of an easterly breeze from off the sea, it was decided that the Conch should go in towing behind her six naval longboats laden with redcoats of the 25th and, having run the gauntlet of the Boer battery and the marksmen lining the shore, make a landing close by Fort Victoria whilst two boats under the command of Captain Wells of the 25th, would cast off earlier and storm the bluff on the opposite side of the harbour. At about 3 p.m. the little armada, carrying approximately 220 redcoats plus a number of sailors, who had strict orders that on landing they were to stand by and guard the boats, headed for the harbour entrance and the onslaught of shot and shell that would greet them. Captain Bell, at the helm of the Conch, remembered:
The firing was now at its height, and bullets whistling in all directions. One struck the main boom about six inches above my head . . . We were now completely enveloped in smoke, so much so that I found it difficult to see the channel. Here one of the men who had just been shot was brought to the main hatchway for the purpose of being passed in to the cockpit, but the surgeon seeing the wound was mortal, did not see the necessity of passing him below. At the same time I observed another man, making his way to Captain Durnford, with the stock of his musket in one hand and the barrel in the other, with the iron ramrod very much bent.
We were now rounding the Point and fast approaching the anchorage, our shells [from both the Conch and the Southampton] plowing up the sand hills, and causing a great stir. When off the engineer’s house at the Point, the launch and the remainder of the boats were cast loose and pushed on shore. . . . During all this time the Southamptonwas not idle, the shot and shell dropping too close to us and the boat to be pleasant. Orders had been given for the sailors not to leave the boats but no sooner had they touched ground then Jack [a nickname for sailors] was out and over the sand hills cutlass in hand towards the flagstaff, at the risk of being knocked over by the shot from their own ship.
Captain Bell also grounded the Conch and on jumping ashore found the vessel to have been riddled by so many bullets that it was close to sinking, the water being ‘up to the thwarts’. However, plugging with strips of blanket and energetic baling made her seaworthy for the moment. Temporarily indifferent to the condition of the vessel, Durnford and his men went ashore ‘like greyhounds’, while some of the sailors, espying the Republican flag flying from the staff close by Fort Victoria, immediately set about bringing it down by scaling the staff like monkeys. Unfortunately, it could not take their weight and slowly collapsed. Undeterred, the ‘rebel’ flag was torn away and, lacking a Union Jack, the sailors hoisted an ensign from one of the longboats but in their haste raised it upside down which, in nautical communication, indicates distress. The Southampton’s lookout quickly recognised the signal and, believing the shore party to be in danger, opened fire which, in turn, caused the flag to be hurriedly reversed whereupon the firing ceased.
Taking command of the situation, Colonel Cloete ordered his bugler to sound assembly recalling the rampaging redcoats, then, having had his force formed up into three sections, advanced on the port. But the Boers were gone; gone without hardly firing a shot once the troops were ashore. British casualties had been light – two killed and a few wounded. Delighted with the success of the assault, Cloete and his men advanced on Smith’s camp, the stench of which could be discerned a quarter of a mile away. Yet the spirits of those but recently besieged were high and with fife and drum they marched out to the regimental air, ‘The Sprig of Shillelagh’. But what the relieving force found appalled them. Captain Bell later wrote:
The main entrenchment across the camp appeared to have been converted into a hospital. I found men with their legs and arms off, and some having suffered from dysentery; the only shelter they had from the hot sun by day and the cold by night was the hides of the horses they had just killed for food; the stench from these hides and the putrid offal lying about was most offensive. Great credit is due to Dr. Fraser; although in want of almost everything that was requisite, every amputation he undertook succeeded.
However, a joyful event soon followed. On 27 May a ship that was assumed to be The Maid of Mona, a schooner bringing reinforcements from the Cape, was seen sailing off the Point. As the vessel drew closer it was recognised as none other than theMazeppathat, after her triumphant escape, had sailed north in what had turned out to be a futile attempt to find a British warship. Now the Mazeppa cautiously peeped into the harbour and, on seeing the Southampton, sailed straight in and over the bar, deliberately grounding on a sandbar enabling her delighted female crew to find their husbands.
But in truth the battle was neither won nor lost: the Boers, who well outnumbered the British troops, were still in the vicinity having throughout the siege and the redcoats’ seaborne assault, suffered but a handful of casualties. Major William D’Urban, the son of Sir Benjamin D’Urban, wrote to his father on 29 June describing the tense situation at the time:
Two days after we arrived here we marched for Congella, but the Boers did not wait for our approach, and after posting a proclamation we returned. . . . The farmers’ [the Boers] have carried all the military prisoners they took, and also a great many individuals who would not join them, to Pietermaritzburg, and report says that the latter are not well treated. I do not myself see the end of this business. We cannot be satisfied with leaving these prisoners in their present hands . . .
Cloete, seemingly not a popular or charismatic person, was, nevertheless, the man for the occasion; perhaps he and the Boers found an affinity due to Cloete being of Dutch birth. Eventually, and against the angry protests of many who would have had the Boer leaders hanged as traitors, Cloete pardoned all and, without a further shot being fired, Port Natal settled down to an uneasy calm until, a few years later, it was proclaimed part of the Crown Colony of Natal.
Many of the Boers who had resisted the redcoat invasion stayed and, retaining their farms, prospered under British rule, but others, seeking the independence they craved, loaded their wagons and once again trekked off into the vast interior: one such person was Pretorius and another a seventeen-year-old lad by the name of Paul Kruger who would continue the fight for more than half a century.
But what was it that had taken the fight out of the Boers when the British landed? They had shown themselves to be the most skilled mounted infantry in southern Africa; and in taking on the Zulu army at Blood River, the most audacious and courageous of men. There is little doubt that had they serious opposed the landing the redcoats’ rescue mission would have ended up in a similar position to that of Captain Smith.
D’Urban in writing to his father commented:
You will observe that our loss is very small, and most surprising it is that it was so. I can only account for it by supposing that they fired principally at the schooner and as our advance was very rapid, the shots intended for it flew over our heads. They were, I imagine, a good deal shaken by finding that the ship [HMS Southampton] could throw shot and shell to reach them [2,000 yards]. At the place we landed the bush and sand hills composed ground of such a description that a few resolute men might have destroyed the whole of us.
When I went over the ground a few days after the landing I felt that my life had been given me. There are two store houses too, stockaded [Fort Victoria] from behind which they might have fired with deadly affect, and we could only muster about fifty men in the first landing from the boats, which had to return to the schooner for more men.
The answer would seem to be that the Boers, faced with the might of HMS Southampton, saw it as some sort of marine juggernaut against whose power they had no answer: it would be impossible for them to defend their harbour or any nautical enterprise, when they had no more marine capability than a few rowing boats. It was clear they could not compete: the veldt was their habitat. But what did the Zulu kingdom think of it all? White man fighting white man. One may be sure that King Mpande’s spies kept him fully aware of every move – furthermore, what did he think of the mighty Southampton? Mpande was not so naïve as to still think of it as a sea monster, if he ever had. Unfortunately, we have no record of Mpande’s thoughts and although he and the Boers had a pact that if either were attacked the other would, as an ally come to the other’s defence, the Zulu king had made no move to aid the Boers. Now his neighbours across the river were the British and the redcoats were drawing closer to the heart of the Zulu kingdom.