CHAPTER XVII

IN ASHANTI BUSH AND MALAY JUNGLE.

It is a big leap from Maoriland to West Africa, but it is there, to Ashanti, that we must go to see how the next Crosses on the roll were won.

Ashanti, as the map shows, is in the Upper Guinea district, immediately inland of the Gold Coast. Seventy thousand square miles in extent, it is thickly covered with forests of mahogany, ebony, and other valuable hardwood trees, except where it is given up to vast mangrove swamps that are no good to anybody. Its people are pure negroes, thick-lipped, flat-nosed, with woolly hair and projecting jaws. They are a savage, cruel race, fetish-worshippers like most of the tribes in West Africa, who have been notorious for the revolting form of their religious rites.

Until the custom of making human sacrifices was put down with a strong hand by Great Britain, Coomassie, the capital, was as much a City of Blood as was the ill-famed Benin, a very different place from the town of to-day, with its wide, regular streets and stuccoed houses painted red and white.

With this country of Ashanti we have come repeatedly into conflict from the early days of last century, when trading stations became established on the coast. The Dutch, too, found their way thither with the same object in view, and out of the rivalry between them and us trouble arose that came to a head in 1872. In that year the Dutch traders who had established themselves on the Gold Coast were bought out by us, their possessions being transferred to this country in return for some land concessions in the island of Sumatra. To this arrangement King Coffee of Ashanti took exception, as he lost thereby certain annual tributes which the Dutch had hitherto paid him, and by way of showing his resentment he carried off several missionaries and attacked our allies the Fantis.

It was necessary to bring King Coffee and his turbulent subjects to reason, so in September 1873 Sir Garnet Wolseley was sent out to Ashanti with an expedition. The task was no easy one, for before Coomassie was reached the troops had to fight their way through the bush, and the African bush is not to be treated lightly, with its tangled masses of vegetation, dark belts of forest, rivers and morasses. Moreover, the campaign had to be completed before the hot season came on, when the terrors of pestilence and fever would have to be faced.

That Sir Garnet Wolseley did accomplish the task set him is a matter of history. By February of the following year King Coffee was forced to make peace, one of the terms being that he should discontinue human sacrifices.

In this five months’ campaign four Victoria Crosses were won, and of these the first two fell to Lieutenant the Hon. Edric Gifford (the present Lord Gifford) and Lance-Sergeant Samuel McGaw of the 42nd Regiment. The latter earned his distinction at the battle of Amoaful, the first victory of any consequence, when the Ashantis were completely routed. At that engagement McGaw led his company through the dense bush in splendid style, himself fighting all through the day, although suffering from a very severe wound received at the commencement of the battle.

Lord Gifford’s Cross was won for a long series of useful services rendered to his commander, though more particularly for his exceptional bravery at the taking of the town of Becquah on February 1st, 1874. At the beginning of the campaign (his first taste of active service, by the way) he organised a body of scouts, loyal natives who knew the country well and could be relied on. With this little band he ranged ahead of the army, hanging upon the enemy’s skirts, so to speak, and ferreting out their intentions by means of his spies. It was dangerous, highly dangerous, work, for it meant thrusting himself almost into the very arms of a foe who showed no mercy in war.

“It is no exaggeration,” says the official account, “to say that since the Adansi Hills were passed he daily carried his life in his hands in the performance of his most hazardous duty.” With no other white man by him, Lieutenant Gifford captured many prisoners, and the information he was able to procure for his chief was naturally of the utmost value.

If he carried his life in his hand while out scouting there is no doubt that he did the same at the taking of Becquah. Gifford and his scouts were through the stockade and into the town some time before the troops stormed it, and were in the thick of the fighting throughout. Of that day’s work, as well as of the scouting in the bush, Sir Garnet took full note when sending his despatches, and the young lieutenant of the South Wales Borderers saw himself duly gazetted.

Major Reginald Sartorius (now a Major-General) is another V.C. man who gained his decoration in far-off Ashanti. At the attack on Abogoo he bravely risked his life to save a wounded Haussa sergeant-major who had fallen under a heavy fire; and he is also famous for a most plucky ride through the heart of the enemy’s country to establish connection between the main body and Captain Glover’s column.

The name of Sartorius, it may be mentioned, is like that of Gough in figuring twice in the honoured list of V.C.’s, and in each case it is two brothers who have thus won double distinction. Major-General Euston Henry Sartorius received his Cross for an exploit in Afghanistan, mention of which will be found in the next chapter.

Next on my list of Ashanti heroes comes Colonel Mark Sever Bell, a distinguished Engineer officer of many campaigns. The battle at Ordahsu in January of 1874 saw him in the very fore-front of the British line alone with a working gang of Fantis, digging a trench. A severe fire from both front and rear played upon them, and--what is said to be an almost unparalleled incident in warfare--they were not protected by a covering party.

The Fantis, to whose qualities Miss Kingsley has paid high tribute, are not warriors of the first order, however faithful they may be as servants; and that Lieutenant Bell (to give him the rank he then bore) got them to work in such circumstances was due solely to his fearless and courageous bearing. When he came in from the trench it was to receive the generous compliments of his chief, Colonel Sir John McLeod, who had considered his chances of getting back alive extremely slight. The V.C. followed at the latter officer’s recommendation.

Although it is not strictly in chronological order, I may note here that in 1900 there was again trouble in Ashanti, which resulted in two more V.C.’s being won. Of these one went to Captain Melliss, of the Indian Staff Corps, and the other to Sergeant (now Captain) John Mackenzie, of the Seaforths.

Mackenzie’s gallantry was most marked. At the attack on Dompoassi in June he found the fight progressing too slowly for him. He had been working two Maxim guns under a hot fire (being wounded while doing so), but the enemy held their position as obstinately as ever. So to “finish the business” the sergeant volunteered to clear the stockades, and at the head of a body of Haussas he charged boldly upon them. The blacks followed his lead with spirit; before their headlong rush the Ashantis fled into the bush, and shortly after Dompoassi was ours.

* * * * *

Just a year after the Ashanti trouble there was an outbreak in the Malay Peninsula which called for a punitive expedition. The little brown men of Perak, own brothers to the head-hunting Dyaks of Borneo, had to be taught the lesson that Great Britain will not tolerate outrages upon her subjects.

With the column that marched up through the jungle upon the Malay strongholds was Major George Nicholas Channer, of the Bengal Staff Corps, who had joined the Indian Army just too late to take part in the suppression of the Mutiny, but in time to see service in the Umbeyla campaign of 1863. Both here and in the Looshai country a few years later he showed himself a dashing leader of native troops, and the 1st Ghurkas were by no means ill-pleased when they learned that he was attached to them for the Perak expedition. Major Channer, for his part, was glad of the chance of seeing another fight, though he little guessed that it was to afford him an opportunity of winning the V.C. and covering himself with glory. Yet such proved to be the case.

On its way northwards the force eventually reached the Bukit Putus Pass, the most difficult part of the journey to be traversed. All around was dense jungle and impenetrable forest, in which a host of Malays lay in wait to harass the troops. How numerous were the enemy could not be ascertained, nor how strong were their defences, and it was important that information on these points should be obtained or the column might blunder into an ambush. Major Channer was selected as the officer best fitted to procure this intelligence, and with a small party of his wiry little Ghurkas he struck off one day into the wilds.

Making a long detour, he worked his way round to the rear of the enemy’s position without any mishap. Here he found that the Malays were strongly posted in a solid log-fort, loopholed on every side and surrounded by a formidable bamboo palisade. As he peered at it through the trees a number of black forms flitted busily to and fro, showing that the fort was well garrisoned.

Channer had learned enough to see that the troops would have considerable difficulty in carrying the position, and might well have returned to make his report. But he was not content with merely having done so much. He determined to make a closer inspection to discover, if possible, where was the weakest spot in the defences.

At night, therefore, leaving his men hidden within call in the jungle, he crept stealthily up through the long grass to the outer stockade. All was still, for the Malays had mounted no guard on that side of the fort. Raising himself cautiously to his knees, he peeped between the bamboo poles and saw that the garrison was all intent on cooking its supper. At once a daring idea came into his head. Quickly dropping back into the long grass, the major wormed his way towards the spot where his faithful Ghurkas were waiting and beckoned them to join him. Then he explained that he intended to take the Malays by surprise and rush the fort.

The Ghurkas were gleefully ready for a job like this, and at the word followed him noiselessly to the point in the palisade whence he had observed the unsuspecting Malays. A quick scramble over and the whole party were inside. The first man who offered resistance Major Channer shot dead with his revolver. The rest stood aghast at the unexpected spectacle of a white officer in their midst, and before they could recover from their astonishment the Ghurkas in their neat green uniforms and little round caps were among them, using their keen _kukris_ with deadly effect. The surprise was complete. The Malays, ignorant of the numbers of their assailants, abandoned the fort and fled precipitately into the jungle.

A message to the main body soon brought up the troops, when the fort was destroyed, leaving the way clear for the march to be continued. But for Major Channer’s bold attack the fort would have had to be carried by a bayonet charge, as it was secure from the big guns, and much loss of life must have been caused. His act, therefore, was one of the greatest service to the expedition.

The gallant major, who got his Cross a few months later, afterwards served with considerable distinction under Lord Roberts in Afghanistan, and commanded a brigade in the Black Mountain (Hazara) expedition of 1888. He died at his home in North Devon only at the end of last year, a General and a C.B.