At last the spot was reached where the army could take up its position
to look across at Magdala, which appeared like a three-topped mountain
with almost perpendicular sides. And here the whole force rested and
girded up their loins for the final struggle.
The advance had been long and wearisome; but as soon as the men were
refreshed by a rest all was excitement, and the next morning the troops
were again in motion. Henty started early in the full conviction that
something would take place, while the men in his neighbourhood, who had
been suffering after their last march the night before from want of
water, were looking eagerly forward to reaching the welcome stream that
could be seen flowing at the bottom of the ravine below.
Here, however, came a disappointment. There was abundance of water in a
river eighty yards wide, and waist deep; but it was the colour of coffee
with milk, and nearly opaque with mud. In fact, it was like a dirty
puddle in a London street just after being churned up by an omnibus.
However, there was nothing for it. All had a drink, and then the men
filled their canteens before they prepared to wade across.
Later, the heat was terrible. Everyone was devoured with a burning
thirst, and any money would have been given cheerfully for a drink of
pure water. When, that afternoon, a storm passed over, and they caught
just the tail end of the rain which fell, Henty was glad to spread out
his waterproof sheet, and he caught nearly half a pint of what he
declared was the most refreshing draught he had ever tasted.
Matters now grew very exciting. Henty and his colleagues could see with
their glasses the enemy's guns upon the fortifications, with
artillerymen passing from gun to gun and loading them in succession.
Behind the spectators the troops were still advancing. The Naval Rocket
Brigade emerged from the flat below and were joining the Punjabis, when,
almost at the same moment, a dozen voices proclaimed that a large force
was coming down the road from the fortress. Glasses were turned in that
direction, and a large body of horse and footmen were seen hurrying down
pell-mell. The question arose, did this mean a peaceful embassy or
fighting?
All doubt was soon at an end: a gun boomed, and a thirty-two pound shot
struck the ground in front of the Indian troops. It was war, then--
defiance. King Theodore meant to fight, but not within the walls of
Magdala; he was coming out to engage the British forces in the open.
The fight had begun; a steady fire was kept up from the fortress guns,
and Henty says: "A prettier sight is seldom presented in warfare than
that of the enemy's advance. Some were in groups; some were in twos and
threes; here and there galloped chiefs in their scarlet cloth robes.
Many of those on foot were in scarlet and silk, and they came on at a
run, the whole force advancing across the plain with incredible and
alarming rapidity." It was for some time doubtful whether they would
not reach the brow of the little valley, along which the Rocket train
was still coming in a long single file, before the infantry could arrive
to check them. After a few minutes, however, the infantry came up at
the double, all their fatigue and thirst having vanished at the thought
of a fight.
Almost immediately the enemy had their first answer to the guns of the
fortress in the shape of a rocket whizzing out upon the plain, for Jack
was alive, and a cheer rang out as other rockets followed in rapid
succession, making the Abyssinians stop short in utter astonishment at
this novel way of making war. But the chiefs urged them forward, and
they advanced again, being now not more than five hundred yards from
where Henty and his colleagues stood watching them.
With his glass he could distinguish every feature, and as he looked at
them advancing at a run with shield and spear, he could not help feeling
pity for them, knowing what a terrible reception they were about to meet
with; for in another minute our line of skirmishers had breasted the
slope and opened a tremendous fire.
The enemy, taken completely by surprise, paused, discharged their
firearms, and then slowly and doggedly retreated, increasing their speed
as they felt how hopeless was the struggle against antagonists who could
pour in ten shots to their one.
Meanwhile the infantry regiment advanced rapidly, driving the retreating
men before them. The native regiment followed up, and the lookers-on
could see the battle was almost won, for the troops advanced so rapidly
that the Abyssinians could not regain the road to the fortress, but,
chased by the rockets, were driven to the right, away from Magdala.
All this time the guns from the fortress kept up their fire upon the
advancing line, but most of the shot went over the men's heads. So bad
was the aim of the king's gunners, that he himself was nearly killed
while superintending the working of one of his big guns by his German
prisoners.
In another portion of the field a more desperate fight was being carried
on by the defenders, and step by step Sir Robert Napier's forces were
developing the attack. The mountain train of steel guns got into
position and sent in a terrific fire, speedily stopping the head of
another of the enemy's columns, while the Punjabis poured in a withering
fire and afterwards charged with the bayonet. As a result King Theodore
suffered a crushing defeat, for upwards of five thousand of his bravest
soldiers had sallied out to the attack, while scarcely as many hundreds
returned.
All this took place in the midst of a tremendous thunderstorm, with the
deep echoing roar of the thunder completely drowning the heavy rattle of
musketry, the crack of the steel guns, and the boom of the enemy's heavy
cannon upon the heights.
A tremendous cheer rose from the whole British force as the enemy
finally retired, and thus terminated one of the most decisive skirmishes
which had perhaps ever occurred; it was memorable, too, as being the
first encounter in which British troops ever used breech-loading rifles.