We have become very used to reading about the war in Afghanistan, but in 1881, it was a very different conflict that British soldiers were being dispatched to. The first Boer War, also known as the Transvaal (South Africa) War, was a relatively brief conflict that started in December, 1880. In October, 1881, the Craven Herald published a letter from a “Craven Lad’” written from Newcastle, Natal. The writer was part of C Battery, 1st Brigade Royal Artillery. Here, Lesley Tate tells the story of his journey to South Africa.

The Boers, descendants of Dutch settlers, rebelled against their British rulers in a bid to re-establish independence lost to them in 1877.

The conflict lasted less than four months and was to be followed in 1899 by a second and much longer Boer War.

But it marked a turning point for the British army, whose soldiers at the time still relied on horses, wore scarlet tunics and serge trousers, and were up against khaki-dressed farmers using commando-style tactics.

The “Craven Lad” had been sent out in December 1880 as part of the British force to quell the uprising.

He describes how the soldiers marched to Portsmouth to board the Cunard Line’s SS Palmya and the 35-day sea voyage which saw them negotiate the notorious Bay of Biscay.

He also describes how men struggled with sea sickness and appalling weather conditions and how horses, strung for the sea crossing in hammocks, were killed in the panic.

By the time the battery, led by Major H Edmeades, reached Newcastle, the war was over, according to the Royal Artillery Museum, Woolwich. But the battery remained in Africa, took part in several expeditions, including to Mafeking and finally returned home in 1885 - four years after it left Portsmouth.

At the start of its long campaign, Maj Edmeade’s battery received its telegram informing of its despatch to the Transvaal just two days after Christmas 1880.

After a week of checking equipment, horses and men, the battery set off for Hilsea, Portsmouth, to board the specially-chartered SS Palmyra.

In his letter, the “Craven Lad” wrote: “I shall not describe the daily life, monotonous at times, of troops aboard ship, readers no doubt being familiar with the daily bath, doctor’s inspection, scramble for hammocks, grog up, etc.

“All went well until the dreaded Bay of Biscay was reached, and we were very near congratulating ourselves on having skirted it without experiencing one of those storms for which it is noted, and for which it has claimed so many lives, when as we were nice and snug in our hammocks dreaming may be of gallant deeds to be done in the foreign land we were bound for, we were roused by those on the watch with shouts of ‘all hands on the horse deck - take hold of the horses heads and quieten them as much as possible’.

“Then ensued a scene which will never be forgotten by any of those on board. Men struggling up the hatchways, their faces asking more than their lips dared to utter.

“The battens were closed down to stop the seas coming down below, which were now constantly breaking over the ship’s bows and sides. Men were clinging to anything that was firm, for the ship rolled most recklessly.

“The men were got to the horses’ heads, and the officers went to other parts of the ship from where came the constant shout of ‘another horse down’. The truth must be told that the contract slings, which were placed under the horses’ bellies, proved rotten.

“The first gale we had, over 30 slings broke, and then the rolling was so great that the poor brutes were almost frightened to death. They could not stand, but slipped under each other’s feet, and a scene of confusion ensued which is impossible to describe.

“I have in mind a poor brute – the first we lost on board – which was placed aft between two others who took ‘sea frenzy’ and before we could get her from beneath them, (by sawing down a couple of beams and hauling her out with tackles), it was too late, for she had expired almost immediately from the savage kicks of the other brutes.

“However, everything has an ending and after about five hours on the horse deck, almost stifled from the heat and stench of the horses’ perspiring, for nearly all of them were white with foam caused by fright, that morning the first horse was hauled up and thrown overboard - what a feed for the sharks!

“Almost as pitiable as the horses were some of the fellows. They were so sick, they were unable to move; still they were hunted about by those in authority, till two or three stowed themselves away for three days without food and looked more like corpses than fresh, hearty young men going to fight their country’s battles.”

On January 22, the ship reached St Vincent, one of the Cape de Verd Islands.

The letter continued: “It is simply a large rock heaved out of the sea. We anchored in a beautiful little land-locked harbour. The small town looked very nice and picturesque, nestled at the base of the huge rock.

“We were close enough to make out public buildings. The smaller houses were white with red roofs. The inhabitants were from Portugal and St Helena.

“There were plenty of them, they came out to us in boats and we regaled ourselves with oranges and bananas, which were not as cheap as expected. We got oranges for a penny each, and bananas at four for a penny.

“After staying there for 24 hours for coaling, we again steamed off on our journey. After a few short gales, we arrived at the Cape of Good Hope on February 8 and ran alongside the wharf to coal again.

“At St Vincent, the sergeants were allowed to go on shore, and when arrived at the Cape, it was thought that some few gunners or drivers would have been allowed in town, but no, only sergeants and servants.

“It was the fact of servants being allowed that raised the anger of a good few fellows and various were the dodges and costumes used to elude the sentries on the ship and dock gates.

“Before long, it was found that 12 men were in town enjoying themselves, after being shut in for nearly a month on board. This gave the steadier fellows a chance to see the place too, as there were about 30 men dispatched as pickets to fetch in the absentees.

“One man was found in a rather comical suit. He had blackened his face so as to resemble one of the blacks who were coaling the ship, and with a sack over his head, he had passed out.

“However, the fellows had turned up before we sailed the following morning for Port Natal, where we arrived three days later. We started to embark the next day. We got a few of the men and horses disembarked, but the following day the surf was too high and the tugs would not bring any boats out.

“After a day or two, we made good progress and only 20 horses and 50 men were left on board. It was a night to be remembered. The water was smooth enough, but it was useless to even lay on deck, so hammocks were slung and we swung comfortably enough in them. Our sister transport, The Queen, could not stand it.

“The 6th Dragoons were on board her and they lost six horses, so they put out to sea and steamed in again the next day.

“At last, after being on the Palmyra 35 days, we gave her captain and crew three cheers and said farewell. After we had a ride on several large surfs and a slight splashing of spray, we found ourselves in a nice, sheltered harbour, alongside the wharf, and once again on terra firma on the continent of Africa.”

* For more pictures of old ships, log on to photoship.co.uk.