On a daily basis, mounted troops from Rorke’s Drift ranged far and wide to wreak havoc on distant Zulu villages. Hamilton-Browne wrote: ‘by this time myself and my boys had made ourselves decidedly unpopular on the other side of the river. No decent kraal could retire at rest and be sure they would awake in the morning to find themselves alive in their huts and cattle intact’.9 During the clearing-up operations in the week following the battle, only five Zulus were taken prisoner and brought back to the outpost; four were later released unharmed. The fate of the fifth Zulu was sealed when he was brought to Hamilton-Browne’s position for questioning. In his memoirs Hamilton-Browne tells another version of the story of the hapless Zulu, claiming that he, and not Bromhead, had accidentally ordered his execution:
He [Glyn] ordered me to return to the prisoner, question him and then to report anything I might find out. This I did but of course could get nothing out of him, though he owned up readily he was a spy and that he wore the piece of red stuff round his head as a disguise. I was turning round to return to the O.C. when I struck my shin, which I had badly bruised a few days before, against the boom of the wagon. The pain was atrocious and I had just let go my first blessing when the Sergeant-Major, a huge Irishman, not seeing my accident, asked, “What will we do with the spoy, sor?” “Oh, hang the bally spy,” I tripped out and limped away, rubbing my injured shin and blessing spies, wagons and everything that came in my way. On my reporting to the O.C. that I could get no information, but that the man owned up to being a spy, he ordered the Camp Adjutant to summon a drumhead courts-martial to try him. Paper, pens and ink were found with difficulty; true, there was no drum but a rum keg did as well.
The officers, warned, assembled and the Sergeant Major being sent for was ordered to march up the prisoner.
He stared open-mouthed for a few seconds, then blurted out, “Plaze, sor, I can’t shure he’s hung, sor.” “Hung!” exclaimed the O.C., who was standing within earshot. “Who ordered him to be hung?” “Commandant Browne, sor,” replied the Sergeant Major. “I ordered him to be hung?” I ejaculated. “What do you mean?” “Sure, sor, when I asked you at the guard wagon what was to be done with the spoy did you not say, sor, ‘Oh, hang the spoy,’ and there he is,” pointing to the slaughter poles, and sure enough there he was. There was no help for it. It was clear enough the prisoner could not be tried after he was hung, so the court was dismissed and there was no one to blame but my poor shin.
Chard later wrote, albeit cautiously, of events at Rorke’s Drift on the 23rd:
On the day following, we buried 351 bodies of the enemy in graves not far from the Commissariat Buildings – many bodies were since discovered and buried, and when I was sick at Ladysmith one of our Sergeants, who came down there invalided from Rorke’s Drift, where he had been employed in the construction of Fort Melvill, told me that many Zulu bodies were found in the caves and among the rocks, a long distance from the Mission house, when getting stone for that fort. As, in my report, I underestimated the number we killed, so I believe I also underestimated the number of the enemy that attacked us, and from what I have since learnt I believe the Zulus must have numbered at least 4,000.
The killing of the Zulu wounded brought the most likely figure of Zulu casualties at Rorke’s Drift up to about 600 with probably another 300 being accounted for during the subsequent securing of the immediate surrounding area. British casualties of fifteen men killed and one officer and nine men wounded (two mortally) were comparatively light. The daughter of the Bishop of Natal, Frances Colenso, was an ardent campaigner for fair play. Following representations made to her by sources she never revealed, she strongly expressed her views on matters at Rorke’s Drift. Although this and other reports were later given limited publicity, no official denials of her allegations were made. She wrote:
The general and his staff hurried on to Pietermaritzberg via Helpmekaar while the garrison at Rorke’s Drift was left in utter confusion. – as testified by many present at the time. No one appeared responsible for anything that might happen, and the result was one disgraceful to our English name, and to all concerned. A few Zulu prisoners had been taken by our troops – some the day before, others previous to the disaster at Isandlwana, and these prisoners were put to death in cold blood at Rorke’s Drift. It was intended to set them free, and they were told to run for their lives, but they were shot down and killed, within sight and sound of the whole force. An eye witness, an officer, described the affair to the present writer, saying that the men he saw killed numbered ‘not more than seven nor less than five’. He said he was standing, with others, in the camp, and hearing shots close behind him, he turned, and saw the prisoners in question in the act of falling beneath the shots and stabs of a party of our own men. The latter, were, indeed, men belonging to the Natal Contingent, but they were supposed to be under white control, and should not have been able to obtain possession of the prisoners under any circumstances.
Bulwer, the Lieutenant Governor of Natal, also expressed his views against cross-border raids. He believed that the indiscriminate burning of empty kraals would be counterproductive and wrote, ‘this action could hardly be attended with much advantage to us, it would invite retaliation’. The border Police commander, Major Dartnell, was also concerned to the point that he cautioned against further cross-border raiding on the grounds that it was provocative; he also forbade his men to cross the river unless they were part of a large raiding party sanctioned by the military authorities.
The deteriorating conditions at Rorke’s Drift did nothing to improve morale or discipline. Major Clery commented on the conditions when he wrote home on 4 February:
We have lost simply everything we had, except what we stood in – tent, clothing, cooking things, everything in fact – so that when we got anything to eat, we had nothing to cook it in, and when we got something to drink we had nothing to drink it out of.
My present abode consists of a tarpaulin held up by some sticks and this I share with Col. Glyn and the other staff officers. We have a little straw to lie on, but as this is the rainy season and as the rain here comes down in torrents, our straw gets very soaky at times. The ground is too hard for lying on, so one wakes in the morning very tender about ones bones.
At first it was very hard on the men for they used to get wet through and had no change; indeed, for that matter there is very little in the way of change for any of us yet, but fortunately the Buffalo River lies close by, so by spending some time every day therein, and utilizing the powerful rays of this tropical sun for the things we hang out to dry, we are holding on till we get some things from Pietermaritzberg.
Glyn and his staff officers could not believe that matters could get worse; then the largest force of men, the black troops of the NNC, collectively mutinied. There can be little doubt that the overall treatment received by the black troops left much to be desired. When they accompanied Chelmsford during the Zulus’ successful decoy of the 22nd, they had been left without food for two days and the events of that day had severely dented their morale and their faith in Chelmsford’s ability to defeat the Zulus. As they returned through Isandlwana they witnessed the awful consequences of the Zulu victory and many recognized friends, now dead. At Rorke’s Drift, too, they constantly expected a Zulu attack. They then witnessed the departure of Chelmsford and his staff and as darkness fell, they were abandoned outside the defences. Many believed their families would be massacred if the Zulus attacked Natal, and it was a collection of too many frightening circumstances that led to their mutiny. Perhaps wisely, Glyn allowed them to depart once they had been disarmed.
Hamilton-Browne also pondered the situation; they were, after all, his men. He called for the induna of his friendly Zulus, named Umvubie, and through him addressed the NNC. He told them that they were not cowards like the other NNC and he requested them to stay. Umvubie had a better idea; he and his men were quite ready to attack the 1,200 non-Zulu blacks to prevent them leaving. Hamilton-Browne dissuaded the
m from this course of action and, after further discussion with his white officers, it was agreed that all the black troops should be disbanded. Hamilton-Browne wrote,
Umvubie paused for a minute to beg my permission to be allowed to kill only a few of the Natal Kafirs, who he was sure had annoyed me very much. Alas! I could not grant his modest request. The other natives had fallen in and gathered round me in a ring. I told them in a few plain words what I thought of them. I told them that the Great White Queen would send them women’s aprons when she heard of their cowardice and that they had better go home and dig in the fields with their wives. This is the greatest insult you can offer a warrior and they hung their heads in shame.
But when I told them to go, and advised them to go to a country even hotter than Natal, they waited not for pay or rations but those who had guns threw them down and the whole of them breaking ranks bolted each man for his own home. The Zulus (friendlies) forming themselves into solid rings, marched past our group of officers, raising their shields in the air, in salute, and rattled their assegais against them; then breaking into a war-song marched proudly away, every one of them a man and a warrior. So exited the rank and file of the 3rd NNC.
Glyn sent a pitiful note to Chelmsford, which read:
3.45 p.m.
January 24, 1879
My Dear General,
The whole of the native contingent walked off this morning. Their rifles were taken from them; all the hospital bearers then went, and now the native pioneers are going. I am now left without any natives. What is to be done with Lonsdale and his Europeans? I shall, of course, keep them until I hear from you.
I have &c
R. Glyn, Colonel
Lord Chelmsford then immediately wrote to Sir Henry Bartle Frere:
January 27, 1879
My dear Sir Henry,
I have just received this letter through Major Grenfell.
Unless these men are at once ordered back to their regiments, or punished for refusing to go, the most serious consequences will ensue. I myself by speaking to Major Bengough’s battalion have, I hear, prevented them deserting.
I have &c
Chelmsford
The Resident Magistrate at Estcourt was tasked with conducting an enquiry into events and his detailed report, efficiently submitted on 4 February, was based on his examination of the NNC indunas. He reported:
Some of the men examined say that they understood they would be wanted again in two months, others say they did not hear anything about their being called out again.
No officers accompanied them out of the camp. The men complain:- First. Of the insufficiency of food, they say that only a quarter of a beast was issued daily for 100 men, and a small pannikin of meal each, and that instead of the insides of the cattle killed for them being given to them, the butchers sold them on their own account.
Secondly. That when they captured cattle and asked for some to kill and eat, according to their custom, they were refused and had no food given them, and when they surprised the enemy’s people cooking and captured their food, they were not allowed to eat it, but it was restored to the enemy.
Thirdly. That they had no food at all for three days at the time of the General’s advance against Matyane and the capture of the head-quarters camp.
Fourthly. That very many of their men were flogged for making water within certain forbidden bounds and for washing themselves in certain streams, although they never heard any orders that they were not to do so; the floggings ranging from 6 to 20 lashes.
Fifthly. That they could not understand their officers, many of them could not speak any native language, and the others only the Amapondo dialect, and if they (the men) spoke when they received any order they did not understand, their officers said they were impatient.
Sixthly. That they were drilled continually, and that the old men were tired and incapable of understanding the drill, and if they made mistakes their officers struck them.
Seventhly. That when out in the field their men were always divided into small companies and scattered in various directions, and could at any time have been destroyed by the enemy, being thus divided and dispersed.
Eighthly. That their system of fighting was ignored, and whatever they said regarding the Zulu movements in warfare were disregarded, and they were told to shut their mouths.
Ninthly. That the Zulus would fire at them as long as their ammunition lasted and then hide, and the Contingent men, were ordered not to kill them, but take them alive, and when men in caves fired at them they were not allowed to go in and kill them, but were ordered to make prisoners of them.
Tenthly. That whilst the Zulus spared no one, they were not allowed to kill different tribes.
The foregoing is the substance of the statement made to me by the indunas of the different tribes.
The Chiefs and indunas are unanimous in expressing their very strong desire to be allowed to fight tribally and in their own way and under their own indunas, with white leaders whom they know and who can speak their language.
If the natives are to be employed again in military service, I would strongly urge a favourable consideration of the foregoing wish of the native tribes to be allowed to fight in their own fashion; employed thus, under white leaders who understand them, they will doubtless render valuable service; if again called out and placed under the late organisation, they will be discontented, and may become insubordinate and a source of danger rather than of strength.
(Signed) PIETER PATERSON
Resident Magistrate, Weenen County.
Resident Magistrate’s Office, Estcourt,
February 4, 1879.
Lord Chelmsford read the report and promptly wrote to Sir Bartle Frere:
February 22,1879
The complaints made by the natives lately belonging to the contingent attached to No.3 Column, and the reasons given for their dispersing and going to their homes, have no doubt a sub-structure of truth, but I do not believe that there was any serious cause for dissatisfaction up to the day of the Isandula misfortune, except that the natives were not supplied with food on the 21st, consequent upon their not returning to camp as originally intended.
There were, I believe, in every company officers or non-commissioned officers who were capable of making themselves understood. The men were arranged by companies tribally, and had their own indunas; several Chiefs also accompany them.
There was so much hesitation and delay on the part of the Natal Government in calling out or even in giving permission for the calling out of the 6,000 natives asked for, that it was impossible to make as good arrangement for their organisation as I should have wished. Natal could not supply the requisite number of Europeans, and I was obliged therefore to indent upon the Cape Colony.
Whilst fully recognising the necessity of having an interpreter in each company, capable of explaining the orders of the commander or the wishes of the men, I entirely dissent from the axiom which it is apparently the endeavour to lay down, that those officers who cannot speak the Zulu language are not only of no use with natives but absolutely an encumbrance.
If all the qualities required for a company leader are to be found in addition to that of speaking Zulu, there can be no question that he is the right man, but if an officer is selected purely for his linguistic knowledge, without reference to the other necessary qualities, then he can only turn out a failure.
Colonel Evelyn Wood has just had to get rid of men of the latter stamp, and has substituted British officers in their place (who are quite innocent of Zulu), with the most satisfactory results.
As the High Commissioner points out, natives when brought together under whatever conditions must have some recognised and workable organisation, and must be subdivided into recognised units corresponding to regiments or companies.
(Signed) CHELMSFORD
Lieutenant Governor
And there that particular matter rested. Meanwhile, life for the British soldiers still encamped at Rorke’s Drift
remained tough and harrowing, but it was not without the occasional glimmer of humour. Commandant Hamilton-Browne recalled an incident that became one of the classic stories of the Zulu War and confirmed the nickname of a young British officer, Lieutenant Harford, as ‘the beetle collector’. Harford had already amused his fellow officers by the incident while he was leading the advance against Sihayo’s homestead, when at one critical point in the attack he was seen on his knees – not wounded but placing a rare beetle into a matchbox. Hamilton-Browne wrote:
The 24th had a small amount of reserve mess stores at Rorke’s Drift, we had nothing, and although there was plenty of Natal rum I could not face the filth; vile stuff it was and hot enough to burn the inside out of a graven image. This being so the 24th, like the rattling good fellows they were, always asked me over to their corner whenever they opened a bottle and I had my tot.
Well just about this time a Natal man rushed through a wagon load of stores and asked leave to sell them. I happened to have about £2 in my pocket at the time of the disaster and after buying two night-caps and some spoons and forks for Harford and myself, I asked the man if he had any liquor. He said he had a big square rigger of gin for his own use but not for trade. I offered all the money I had left and an equal-sized bottle of Natal rum for it and we traded. Well now there was corn in Egypt and I could, in a small way, return the hospitality of the 24th so I at once sent round to my friends to come to my corner, that evening after inspection, and partake of the plunder. They had run out of spirits and the news was joyful.
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