THE MASSACRE AT ISANDHLWANA.
'What the deuce is up?' cried Hammersley and other officers, as they
came rushing out of their tents when the sound of firing was heard
all along the crest of the hill on the left of the camp, as had been
reported to Lord Chelmsford; and, soon after, the few Mounted
Infantry under Colonel Durnford were seen falling back, pursued
swiftly by Zulus, who, like a dark human wave, came rolling in
thousands over the grim crest of the hill, throwing out dense clouds
of skirmishers, whose close but desultory fire fringed all their
front with smoke.
There was no occasion for drum to be beaten or bugle blown to summon
the troops; in a moment all rushed to arms, and the companies were
formed and 'told off' in hot and nervous haste.
The Zulus came on in very regular masses, eight deep, maintaining a
steady fire till within assegai distance, when they ceased firing,
and launched with aim unerring their deadly darts.
Our troops responded by a close and searching fire, under which the
black-skinned savages fell in heaps, but their places were fearlessly
taken by others.
The rocket battery had been captured by them in their swift advance,
and every man of it perished in a moment with Colonel Russell.
Driven back by their furious rush and force, the cavalry gave way,
and Captain Mostyn, with two companies of the noble 24th, was
despatched at the double to the eastern neck of the hill of
Isandhlwana, where the Zulus in vast force were pressing along to
outflank the camp, and on this wing of theirs he at once opened a
disastrous fire.
Near the Royal Artillery guns the other two companies of the 24th
were extended in skirmishing order; this was about half-past twelve
p.m., and, as the mighty semicircle--the horns of the Zulu
army--closed on them, every officer and man felt that they were
fighting for bare existence now, and only procrastinating the moment
of extirpation.
The shock which Hammersley's heart had received by the supposed
deception of Finella was still too terribly fresh to render him
otherwise than desperate and reckless of life, and in the coming
_mêlée_ he fought like a tiger.
He longed to forget both it and her--to put death itself, as he had
now put distance, between himself and the place where that cruel blow
had descended upon him; thus he exposed himself with a temerity that
astonished Sheldrake, Florian, and others.
D'Aquilar Pope's company of the 24th was thrown forward in extended
order near the waggon track till his left touched the files of the
right near the Artillery. Facing the north were the companies of
Mostyn, Cavaye, and Hammersley, with two of the Native Contingent,
all in extended order, and over them the guns threw shot and shell
eastward. But all the alternative companies were without supports to
feed the fighting line, unless we refer to some of the Native
Contingent held as a kind of reserve.
The crest of that precipitous mountain in front of which our luckless
troops were fighting with equal discipline and courage in the silent
hush of desperation, is more than 4,500 feet high; but the camp upon,
its eastern slope had been in no way prepared, as we have said, for
defence by earthworks or otherwise.
'The tents,' we are told, 'were all standing, just as they had been
left when the troops under Chelmsford and Glyn marched out that
morning, and their occupants were chiefly officers' servants,
bandsmen, clerks, and other non-combatants, who, until they were
attacked, were unconscious of danger. Fifty waggons, which were to
have gone back to the commissariat camp at Rorke's Drift, about six
miles in the rear as the crow flies, had been drawn up the evening
before in their lines on the neck between the track and the hill, and
were still packed in the same position. All other waggons were in
rear of the corps to which they were attached. The oxen having been
collected for safety when the Zulus first came in sight, many of them
were regularly yoked in.'
It was not until after one o'clock that our handful of gallant
fellows on the slope of the hill fully realised the enormous strength
of the advancing army, now ascertained to have been _fourteen
thousand men_, under Dabulamanzi.
By that time the Zulus had fought to within two hundred yards of the
Natal Contingent, which broke and fled, thus leaving a gap in the
fighting line, and through that gap the Zulus--loading the air with a
tempest of triumphant yells and shrieks--burst like a living sea, and
in an instant all became hopeless confusion.
'Form company square,' cried Hammersley, brandishing his sword;
'fours deep, on the centre--close.'
But there was no time to close in or form rallying-squares, and never
again would our poor lads 're-form company.'
Before Mostyn's and Cavaye's companies could close, or even fix their
bayonets, they were destroyed to a man, shot down, assegaied, and
disembowelled, while the shrieks and fiend-like yells of the Zulus
began to grow louder as the rattle of the musketry grew less, and the
swift game of death went on.
Hammersley's company, which had been on the extreme left, though
unable to form square, succeeded in reaching, but in a shattered
condition, a kind of terrace on the southern face of the hill, from
whence, as the smoke cleared away, they could see the Zulus using
their short, stabbing assegais with awful effect upon all they
overtook below.
Under the fire of the cannon, which had been throwing case-shot, the
Zulus fell in groups rather than singly, and went down by hundreds;
but as fast as their advanced files melted away, hordes of fresh
savages came pouring up exultingly from the rear to feed the awful
harvest of death; and, as they closed in, 'Limber up!' was the cry of
Major Smith, the Artillery commanding officer; but the limber gunners
failed to reach their seats, and, save a sergeant and eight, all
perished under the assegai; and while in the act of spiking a gun,
the Major was slain amid an awful _mêlée_ and scene of carnage, where
horse and foot, white man and black savage, were all struggling and
fighting in a dense and maddened mass around the cannon-wheels.
Notwithstanding the manner in which he exposed himself, Hammersley,
up to this time, found himself untouched; but his subaltern, poor
Vincent Sheldrake, whose wounded sword-arm rendered him very
helpless, was bleeding from several stabs and two bullet-wounds,
which it was impossible to dress, yet he strove to save his servant
Tom, who was lying in his last agony, and who, in gratitude, strove
to accord him a military salute, and died in the attempt.
'Poor Vincent! you are covered with wounds!' said Hammersley.
'Ay; so many that my own mother--God bless her!--wouldn't know me; so
many that if I was stripped of these bloody rags you would think I
was tattooed. It is no crutch and toothpick business this!' replied
Sheldrake, with a grim faint smile, as from weakness he fell forward
on his hands and knees, and Florian stood over him with bayonet fixed
and rifle at the charge.
At that moment an assegai flung by a Zulu finished the mortal career
of Sheldrake. But Florian shot the former through the head, and the
savage--a sable giant--made a kind of wild leap in the air and fell
back on a gashed pile of the dead and the dying. It was Florian's
last cartridge, and his rifle-barrel was hot from continued firing by
this time.
All was over now!
Every man who could escape strove to make his way to the Buffalo
River, but that proved impossible even for mounted men. Intersected
by deep watercourses, encumbered by enormous boulders of granite, the
ground was of such a nature that the fleet-footed Zulus, whose bare
feet were hard as horses' hoofs, alone could traverse it, and the
river, itself swift, deep, and unfordable, had banks almost
everywhere jagged by rocks sharp and steep.
A few reached the stream, among them Vivian Hammersley, his heart
swollen with rage and grief by the awful result of that bloody and
disastrous day, by the destruction of his beloved regiment--the old
24th--for which he could not foresee the other destruction that 'the
Wolseley Ring' would bring upon it and the entire British Army, and
the loss by cruel deaths of all his brother-officers--the entire
jolly mess-table. In that time of supreme agony of heart, we believe
he almost forgot his quarrel with Finella Melfort, but found the
track to Helpmakaar and Rorke's Drift, where a company of the 24th
were posted under the gallant young Bromhead; but most of the
fugitives were entirely ignorant of the district through which they
wildly sought to make their escape, and thus were easily overtaken
and slain by the Zulus; and so hot was the pursuit of these poor
creatures, that even of those who strove to gain a point on the
Buffalo, four miles from Isandhlwana, none but horsemen reached the
river, and of these many were shot or drowned in attempting to cross
it.
Lieutenant-Colonel Henry Pulleine of the 24th, on perceiving all
lost, and that the open camp was completely in the hands of the
savages, called to Lieutenant Melville, and said,
'As senior lieutenant, you will take the colours, which must be saved
at all risks, and make the best of your way from here!'
He shook warmly the hand of young Melville, who, as adjutant, was
mounted, and then exclaimed to the few survivors:
'Men of the old 24th, here we are, and here we must fight it out!'
Then his gallant 'Warwickshires' threw themselves in a circle round
him, and perished where they stood.
Melville galloped off with the colours, escorted by Lieutenant
Coghill of the same corps, and by Florian, who was ordered to do so,
as colour-sergeant, and who, luckily for himself, had found a strong
horse. These three fugitives were closely pursued, and with great
difficulty kept together till they reached the Buffalo River, the
bank of which was speedily lined with Zulu pursuers armed with rifle
and assegai.
Melville's horse was shot dead in the whirling stream, and the
green-silk colours, heavy with gold-embroidered honours, slipped from
his hands. Coghill, a brave young Irish officer, reached the Natal
side untouched and in perfect safety; but on seeing his Scottish
comrade clinging to a rock while seeking vainly to recover the lost
colours, he went back to his assistance, and his horse was then shot,
as was also that of Florian, who failed to get his right foot out of
the stirrup, and was swept away with the dead animal down the stream.
The Zulus now continued a heavy fire, particularly on Melville, whose
scarlet patrol jacket rendered him fatally conspicuous among the
greenery by the river-side at that place. Two great boulders, six
feet apart, lie there, and between them he and Coghill took their
last stand, and fought, sword in hand, till overwhelmed. 'Here,'
says Captain Parr in his narrative, 'we found them lying side by
side, and buried them on the spot'--truly brothers in arms, in glory
and in death.
When all but drowned, Florian succeeded in disentangling his foot
from the stirrup-iron, and struck out for the Natal side. A shrill
yell from the other bank announced that he was not unseen; bullets
ploughed the water into tiny white spouts about him, and many a long
reedy dart was launched at him--but with prayer in his heart and
prayer on his lips he struggled on, and reached the bank, where he
lay still, worn breathless, incapable of further exertion, and
weakened by his recent fall in the donga, after escaping from
Elandsbergen; thus believing that all was over with him, the Zulus
ceased firing, and went in search of congenial carnage elsewhere.
And there, dying to all appearance, in a reedy swamp by the Buffalo
river, the tall grass around him, bristling with launched assegais,
lay Florian Melfort, the true heir of Fettercairn, friendless and
alone.
* * * * *
No Briton survived in camp to see the complete end of the awful scene
that was acted there! And of that scene no actual record exists.
For a brief period--a very brief one--a hand to hand fight went on
among, and even in, the tents, and the company of Captain Reginald
Younghusband of the 24th alone appears to have made any organized
resistance. Making a wild rally on a plateau below the crest of the
hill, they fought till their last cartridges were expended, and then
died, man by man, on the ground where they stood. The Zulus surged
round and over them with tiger-like activity, frantic gestures,
remorseless ferocity, and lust of blood, whirling and flinging their
ponderous knobkeries, or war-clubs, one blow from which would suffice
to brain a bullock.
Even the savage warriors who slew and mutilated them were filled with
admiration at their courage, while tossing their own dead again and
again on the bayonet-blades to bear down the hedge of steel. 'Ah,
those red soldiers at Isandhlwana!' said the Zulus after; 'how few
they were, and how they fought! They fell like stones--each man in
his place.'
There is something pathetic in the description of the stand made by
the _last man_ (poor Bob Edgehill, of the 24th), as given in the
_Natal Times_.
Keeping his face to the foe, he struggled towards the crest of the
hill overlooking the camp, till he reached a small cavern in the
rocks. Therein he crept, and with rifle and bayonet kept the Zulus
at bay, while they, taking advantage of the cover some rocks and
boulders afforded them, endeavoured by threes and fours to shoot him.
Bob--that rackety Warwickshire lad--was very wary. He did not fire
hurriedly, but shot them down in succession, taking a steady and
deliberate aim. At last his only remaining cartridge was dropped
into the breech-block of his rifle; another Zulu fell, and then he
was slain. This was about five in the evening, when the shadow of
the hill of Isandhlwana was falling far eastward across the valley
towards the ridge of Isipesi.
'We ransacked the camp,' said a Zulu prisoner afterwards, 'and took
away everything we could find. We broke up the ammunition-boxes and
took all the cartridges. We practised a great deal at our kraals
with the rifles and ammunition. Lots of us had the same sort of
rifle that the soldiers used, having bought them in our own country,
but some who did not know how to use it had to be shown by those who
did.'
Five entire companies of the 1st battalion of the 24th perished
there, with ninety men of the 2nd battalion; 832 officers and men
mutilated and disembowelled, in most instances stripped, lay there
dead, shot in every position, amid gashed and gory horses, mules, and
oxen, while 1400 oxen and £60,000 of commissariat supplies were
carried off.
At ten minutes past six in the evening of that most fatal day Lord
Chelmsford was joined by Colonel Glyn's force. A kind of column was
formed, with the guns in the centre, with the companies of the 2nd
battalion of the 24th on each flank, and when the sun had set, and
its last light was lingering redly on the rocky scalp of Isandhlwana,
this force was within two miles of the camp, where now alone the dead
lay. The opaque outline of the adjacent hills was visible, with the
dark figures of the Zulus pouring in thousands over them in the
direction of Ulundi; and after shelling the neck of the Isandhlwana
Hill--where it would seem none of the enemy were, for no response was
made--the shattered force, crestfallen in spirit, heavy in heart, and
after having marched thirty miles, and been without food for
forty-eight hours, bivouacked among the corpses of their comrades.
When, five months after, the burial parties were sent to this awful
place, great difficulty was experienced in finding the bodies, the
tropical grass had grown so high, while the stench from the
slaughtered horses and oxen was overpowering. Every conceivable
article, with papers, letters, and photographs of the loved and the
distant, were thickly strewn about. 'A strange and terrible calm
seemed to reign in this solitude of death and nature. Grass had
grown luxuriantly about the waggons, sprouting from the seed that had
dropped from the loads, falling on soil fertilised by the blood of
the gallant fallen. The skeletons of some rattled at the touch. In
one place lay a body with a bayonet thrust to the socket between the
jaws, transfixing the head a foot into the ground. Another lay under
a waggon, covered by a tarpaulin, as if the wounded man had gone to
sleep while his life-blood ebbed away. In one spot over fifty bodies
were found, including those of three officers, and close by another
group of about seventy; and, considering that they had been exposed
for five months, they were in a singular state of preservation.'
Such is the miserable story of Isandhlwana.