The morning of the 22nd of January broke calm and clear on the valley of
the Buffalo. At one end of this, as the reader has heard, was situated
the ford of Rorke's Drift, to which the occurrence of that day has given
a world-wide celebrity. But for the fact that there are shallows close
to it, by which cavalry may almost always cross, there is nothing that
could cause it to be chosen as a military station. The valley indeed is
open for some considerable distance above the Drift; but below it there
rise rocky hills, which would enable an enemy completely to command it.
On the north bank again, which is in Zululand, the ground is level; but
on the Natal side there is high land, sloping abruptly down to the river
at the point where the ford is shallowest. From this point, as well as
from that before mentioned, the camp could be easily attacked, and
probably with disastrous effect. It could therefore only be from that
contempt of the most obvious dangers, which seems to be an inevitable
feature in the English character, that a military storehouse and
hospital could have been built in such a situation. It must have been
evident to every one that, if a Zulu invasion--a thing which had already
twice occurred, and which was now again apprehended with grave reason--
were really to take place, and Cetewayo pour his dusky thousands across
the Buffalo, the stores and the sick men must be, at once and without
hope of deliverance, at his mercy.
In any case, one would have supposed that this consideration would cause
some anxiety in the minds of the slender garrison left in it, when the
three British columns had passed the frontier of Zululand to attack its
renowned and dreaded king. All over Natal, if not all over Southern
Africa, it was considered as, at all events, very doubtful, whether he
would not prove too strong--not indeed for the power of England to cope
with, but for the number of troops now sent against him. And if he
obtained even a temporary triumph, and forced Glyn's column back over
the river, what would all their lives be worth? Did not common prudence
require the throwing up defences of some kind, which might keep the
enemy off, for some time at least, until succour might arrive. The
grand feat of arms, which averted a second disaster, has induced the
world to disregard the strange imprudence exhibited here, as at
Isandhlwana. But had the result been different, and had the garrison
experienced the same fate as those who fell in the fatal battle on the
morning of the same day, the outcry would in all likelihood have been
quite as loud and quite as justifiable.
But no thought of danger disturbed the equanimity of the slender force
left to garrison their untenable post. The men, when the necessary camp
duties had been discharged, appeared to be sorely at a loss to know in
what manner to employ their time. The day was warm and bright, and
early in the forenoon it became oppressively hot. Some amused
themselves by fishing in the adjoining river. Some strolled up and
down, or sat smoking and chatting in the verandah, or under such shade
as could be found.
At a little distance, in front of the Swedish pastor's house, Vander
Heyden and his sister were walking up and down, engaged in earnest
conversation.
"I wish you would think better of this, Annchen," he said. "Mr
Bilderjik returns this morning to Colenso. He finds there is nothing to
be done here, which the pastor himself cannot do, nor is there likely to
be anything. He will take you with him to his house, and thence you
will find easily enough the means of conveyance to Newcastle, where a
temporary residence has been engaged. There all the waggons and the
goods which were saved from the wreck at Bushman's Drift have been
conveyed. There, too, you can make the necessary preparations for the
journey across the Transvaal, which cannot be made here."
"You are resolved on settling at Pieter's Dorf, then?"
"Have I not told you so already? Bushman's Drift was completely
destroyed by those fiends of Umbelini's. It would take a great deal of
time and money to restore it; and even were that otherwise, I could
never endure the sight of the place again."
"I know, I know," murmured Annchen, as she laid her hand pityingly on
his arm.
"And Pieter's Dorf," resumed Vander Heyden, "is the place at which I
have always wished to live, since it came into my possession. Additions
to the house and farm buildings are needed, and these Hardy, the most
competent man in these parts, has promised to undertake. We shall
certainly set out as soon as I am free to travel."
"That is, as soon as Cetewayo has been put down, I suppose. But if you
are to have no hand in putting him down, why wait for that?"
"I mean to have a hand in putting him down. As a soldier, I know I must
obey orders, and therefore I have stayed here. But I have been promised
that I shall take the place of the first officer that is killed or
disabled. Every day I am expecting to hear that a battle has been
fought and I am free to draw my sword. I must stay here."
"But, Henryk, may I not be as anxious to obtain the earliest information
as yourself?"
"Of the safety of Frank Moritz?" suggested her brother, turning a
scrutinising look on her; "or perhaps of some one else?"
Annchen coloured. "You have no right--no reason for asking me that,"
she said.
"I hope I have no reason," he answered. "As for right, that is a
different matter. Let us understand one another. It was never supposed
that there was any romantic affection between you and Frank, though you
liked one another well enough to marry. But I have fancied once or
twice that you were getting romantic about this young Englishman,
Rivers. He is a fine fellow, I allow, and I admire and like him. But
you shall never marry an Englishman with my consent. And though my
control over you will cease after a time, you would no longer be a
sister of mine if you were to marry one."
"I repeat you have neither right nor reason to speak thus to me," she
rejoined. "Neither Mr Rivers nor myself have said or done anything
that could justify it. And I really think it _would_ be better for me
to leave Rorke's Drift. I have no doubt Mr Bilderjik will give me
permission to accompany him, and, as he means to set out very soon, I
will go and prepare for my journey. Good-bye, Henryk; let us part
friends."
They took leave of one another, and not long afterwards she was seen
riding off in the Swedish pastor's company. Vander Heyden lounged up to
the camp and joined some of the officers, who had gathered in a group
near the storehouse, listening intently to some distant sounds borne by
the wind from the eastern quarter.
"That is firing, I am sure," said Evetts, one of the volunteers; "but it
is a long way off."
"Yes, that is firing," said the experienced Vander Heyden; "but it is
not volley firing. It is only some skirmishing, I expect. How long has
it been going on?"
"I should think it began about an hour ago," said Evetts, "but it was
very faint and irregular then. It has been getting more distinct for
the last twenty minutes. It is just half-past twelve now." He looked
at his watch as he spoke. "But, ha! what is that?" he added a moment
afterwards, as a deep, hollow boom came across the river. "That is
cannon. There is a battle going on at Isandhlwana."
"A good job too," said Vander Heyden; "it is time there was some
fighting. People had begun to think there never was to be any."
They continued to listen for a considerable time to the roar of the
cannonade, which presently ceased, and the desultory firing was again
heard.
"The action is over," observed Evetts. "The Zulus never can face the
guns very long."
"Where is Margetts?" inquired another officer after another hour's
conversation.
"He and Baylen have ridden out to the ford on the Lower Tugela,"
answered Evetts, "with some letters which were to be forwarded to
Pearson's camp. I have been on the lookout for them for some time."
"And here they come," said Lieutenant Bromhead, the officer in command
of the garrison; "I know Margetts' horse even at this distance."
"It is the horse, sure enough," said Vander Heyden, as they drew nearer,
"but I don't think it is the man. No," he added a minute afterwards,
"it is Rivers, not Margetts."
"Rivers!" repeated Bromhead. "And so it is! He must come from
Isandhlwana. Depend upon it, he brings us the news of a victory. Well,
Rivers, what is it?"
"I am sorry to say, Mr Bromhead," said George, saluting the officer in
command, "we have suffered a terrible defeat. The Zulus have broken
into our camp and massacred nearly the whole of the companies of the
24th, the police, and the volunteers. All the guns, ammunition, and
waggons have been taken. I should fear that nearly a thousand men have
been slaughtered."
"Good Heaven! you cannot mean it!" said Evetts. "Where is Lord
Chelmsford? How can it have happened?"
"It is no use asking either question now," said George. "The Zulus are
in immense force--ten or twelve thousand of them at the least. They are
already, I expect, on the march to attack you. You must instantly
retreat, or prepare to defend yourselves."
"We cannot retreat," said Bromhead. "It will be impossible to remove
the wounded men, and we cannot let them fall into the hands of the
Zulus. Besides, it is of the utmost importance to maintain this post,
if it be possible. We must throw up what defences we can, and, rather
than surrender them, die behind them."
He was answered by a general cheer and a cry of determination to defend
the place as long as there was a cartridge left, or a man to fire it.
As has already been intimated, a worse position for defence than Rorke's
Drift can hardly be imagined. The two small frail buildings were more
than a hundred feet apart from one another. The walls were thin, the
doors weak, the roofs thatched, and easily set on fire. On two sides
there was rising ground, from which they could be completely commanded.
On a third they could be approached under cover within a few yards'
distance. There was neither wall nor breastwork nor trench--nothing, in
fact, to keep an enemy back. The attacking party would probably consist
of some thousands of desperate and well-armed savages, flushed with
victory. The defenders were one hundred and four in number (for the
native contingent withdrew before the approach of the enemy), and they
were cumbered with the care of thirty-five sick men.
They went to work, however, with a will, and for more than two hours
employed themselves in loopholing the walls and constructing barricades
between the two houses. These consisted of two waggons, which had
fortunately been left at the station, and of piles of sacks filled with
mealies and biscuit-boxes, the parapet thus formed being only a few feet
high. It looked more like a mock fortification, put together for a
schoolboy's game, than for the purposes of a real battle. The rude
defences were still incomplete, when the dark masses of the enemy were
seen crowding the rising ground to the south, and the foremost lines
made a sudden charge down the hill, intending to carry the place by a
_coup de main_. But when they had approached within fifty yards, they
were met by a fire so heavy, as to check even their triumphant advance.
Instead of continuing their rush, they withdrew into whatever cover they
could find, and fired from behind hollows in the hillside, trees and
shrubs and garden wall, every now and then rushing forward and trying to
force their way in, until driven back by the weapon they dreaded most of
all--the British bayonet.
"These fellows fight desperately," said George to Hardy, who had arrived
an hour or two previously, as, aided by him and Vander Heyden, he drove
back half a dozen Zulus, who had forced themselves half over the wall of
mealie-bags; "yonder big fellow actually clutched the barrel of my
musket as I fired it into him, and, though he was mortally wounded,
attempted to tear it from me. If his strength hadn't failed him pretty
quickly, he'd have got it, too!"
"Well, the fighting has gone on for four or five hours," said Redgy, who
was close by, "and they have not gained an inch yet."
"Ay, but if they _were_ to gain an inch, it would be all up with us,"
said Hardy. "Put those mealie-bags back again, Wilhelm. That last rush
nearly had them down."
"Look out, here is another lot coming!" shouted George, as he
indistinctly caught sight of a dark mass advancing towards them. A
moment afterwards a dozen blacks vaulted nimbly on to the parapet, but
were instantly hurled back by a volley of musketry, which carried death
among the assailants. Three only had made their entrance good. George
shot one with his revolver, Hardy bayoneted a second, and Vander Heyden,
clubbing his rifle, brained the third, all falling dead within the
enclosure.
"Safe once more!" exclaimed Hardy; "but how long is this to go on?"
At this moment a shout was raised that the enemy were forcing their way
into the hospital, and the sick must be moved, or they would fall into
the hands of the savages. With the utmost difficulty this task was
accomplished, the soldiers fighting from room to room, and guarding the
doors by turns, while their sick comrades were carried out under the
very eyes of a crowd of swarthy savages, pressing on them with
brandished weapons and yells of fury. Presently the hospital was set on
fire, and the flames, rising high and catching the thatch, lit up the
terrible scene with a lurid splendour. It guided the bullets of the
defenders, who continued to pour volley after volley into the midst of
the dense array of their assailants, heaping the ground everywhere round
the entrenchments with their corpses.
Who can relate the achievements, who can recount the horrors, of that
long night of trial? It was like a succession of hideous dreams, from
which the sleepers were continually being awakened, only to renew them
in sleep again. About midnight the little garrison, forced back on
every side by overwhelming numbers, had to retire within an inner
circle, formed, like the outer one, by mealie-sacks; and here the same
scenes were, hour after hour, renewed in endless succession--of black
warriors pouring in to the attack, and being driven back by volleys of
musketry and charges with the bayonet.
At last the dawn broke. The Zulu fire ceased, and the dense array of
the enemy was seen retiring over the heights by which they had
approached. The garrison, diminished still further by the casualties of
the night, stood triumphant in their citadel. The scene which the
rising sun revealed was one of the most terrible and striking on which
the eye of man has ever rested. There were the handful of defenders,
with their faces blackened with powder or clotted blood, their uniforms
ragged with bullet-marks and charred by fire, leaning exhausted against
the walls, or stretched on the ground; and all round the camp the bodies
of the assailants, scattered singly here and there, or piled on heaps
upon one another, in some places six and seven deep. There they lay, in
every conceivable attitude of repose or agony, some struck with sudden
and almost painless death, others torn by gaping wounds or forced into
hideous contortions by acute and protracted torture.
"What a night it has been, Vander Heyden!" exclaimed George, as he
leaned on the stalwart Dutchman's arm, giddy with exhaustion. "A
hundred times over I have given myself up for lost. I can hardly
believe that it is over, and we are safe! It was like a horrible
nightmare!--those interminable black faces and whirling spears and
ferocious shouts! I think I shall never cease to hear them!"
"It has indeed been a tremendous struggle," said the Dutchman. "Ha!
what is that shout? They are not returning to the attack, are they, Mr
Bromhead?" he continued, addressing that officer, as, grim with dust and
blood, he passed them on his way to the flagstaff.
"No, some of our fellows are in sight, and coming this way--escaped from
Isandhlwana, I suppose. They raised a cheer when they saw that our flag
was still flying, and our men returned it."
George and Vander Heyden followed him, just in time to see the remnant
of Glyn's column coming up, headed by Lord Chelmsford himself. The
commander-in-chief rode forward and looked with approval and admiration
on the frail and slender defences, which a handful of brave men had
converted into an impregnable fortress, on the vast multitude of black
corpses heaped on every side, and on the gaunt and war-stained figures
of the few defenders. Then he asked,--"Where is the officer in
command?" Lieutenant Bromhead advanced and saluted. "You have done
nobly, sir,--you and your gallant followers,--and England owes you her
warmest thanks. Your brave defence has probably averted the mischief I
had feared, and saved the colony from invasion."
The days which followed this fierce and protracted struggle were, as is
usually the case, dull and inactive, the defenders being in truth too
much exhausted to do more than lounge through the day and recover their
strength and energies. It was some relief to George to find that Farmer
Baylen had returned some time before to Horner's Kraal, so that it was
impossible to send him immediate news of Ernest's death. Vander Heyden
rode over to Colenso as soon as he was able, to break the news to
Annchen that her lover had fallen at Isandhlwana. Walter Baylen was
nearly convalescent, and it was agreed that as soon as he was
sufficiently restored he should ride over to his father's house and
inform him of their loss. There had been at first some apprehension
that, notwithstanding the repulse at Rorke's Drift, Cetewayo might be so
elated by his success at Isandhlwana as to send his dark-skinned
warriors over the Tugela to overrun Natal. But the more the Zulu king
learned of the event of the memorable 22nd of January, the less he felt
inclined to be elated. He had killed a thousand of his enemies, no
doubt, but they had probably killed nearly three times that number of
his best soldiers. He had gained a battle at Isandhlwana, but he had
lost one at the Inioni river; and presently he discovered that not only
had another action been fought and lost at Rorke's Drift, but that his
favourite regiment, the Tulwana, had been half destroyed in it. More
red soldiers, he learned, were coming up "out of the sea" to supply the
place of those lost. He had no means of filling the vacancies that had
been caused in his own army. It was no time for sending troops out of
Zululand. He would want all he had for its defence. Day after day did
the garrison look across the waters of the Buffalo towards the fatal
Lion Hill, but they beheld none coming that way, except now and then a
wounded soldier, who had escaped by some marvel from the fatal field,
crawling slowly and painfully over the broken ground to the friendly
shelter where his wounds would be cared for.
It was one of the last days of January, when George and Redgy, who were
sitting under shelter of the kraal wall, saw on the river bank what
seemed to be a wounded Zulu, who was making his way with toil and pain
to the camp.
"Do you see that darky there," said Margetts, "creeping up this way, and
keeping out of sight as much as possible? He is up to no good, I
expect."
"He seems to me to be wounded," said George, "or rather to be recovering
from the effects of a wound. Perhaps he has been lying hurt by the
river's bank, and has just recovered strength to crawl up here."
"Well, if so, we oughtn't to refuse to give the poor beggar shelter, I
suppose," said Redgy. "But we had better not go near him until we have
made sure. These black fellows take it for granted that you are going
to assegay them, and generally try to anticipate the compliment. Here
he comes, crab fashion! Hallo, darky, what may you please to want at
Rorke's Drift?"
"I want your help, Mr Redgy," was the reply,--"yours and Mr Rivers'.
You haven't forgotten Matamo, have you?"
"Hey, what!" exclaimed both the young men, starting up. "Matamo!"
continued George. "Why, you don't mean it! I declare it is he! Why,
we all thought you were dead, if not buried!"
"No, sir," returned the native, grinning and showing his white teeth.
"I am not dead, nor buried. There is nobody buried yet at Isandhlwana.
But I am almost dead with hunger. Please to give me some food, and I
will tell you all about it."
Interested and astonished, the young men took Matamo to their tent and
supplied him with food; after which he told his story.
"Mr George, you saw me knocked down by a blow from a knobkerry. I was
stunned, not killed. I lay for some time, and then came to. I tried to
get up, but the big Zulu you killed had fallen over me, and the dead
horse lay on the other side of me. I was fast jammed in, but I could
see under the Zulu's arm what was going on."
"What did you see? Tell us. No one seems to know the exact details,"
exclaimed Rivers eagerly. "Was the fighting still going on?"
"It was still going on; but there was no chance for the red soldiers.
They were nearly all killed. There were half a dozen here, a dozen
there, two dozen there, with hundreds of Zulus round them. Most of them
were standing back to back, and stabbing with their bayonets. They were
dropping one after another, but killing at least three men for every
one. I saw one tall man kill five blacks without stopping, but the
bayonet stuck for a moment in the ribs of the fifth, and then they
assegayed him. The red soldiers died out, one by one, like the sparks
in tinder. But none of of them ran away, and none called out for
mercy."
"Could you distinguish who held out the longest?" asked Margetts.
"Yes, sir. One company had moved back against the steep rock and stood
in three sides of a square. They were the last."
"Ay; that was Younghusband's company. I saw them retreating to the base
of the precipice just as Hardy and I rode off the ground. They kept the
Zulus _off_ the longest, did they?"
"Yes, sir. They stood side by side, and couldn't be attacked from
behind. They shot the blacks down by twenties at a time, till there
were great heaps of dead in front of them. The Zulus kept back at last,
and only threw at them from a distance. By and by all their cartridges
were used up. Then the blacks rushed at them again. But the soldiers
kept them off ever so long with their bayonets. At last the Zulus
picked up the dead bodies and threw them on the bayonets, and so broke
into the square and killed all."
"And how did you manage to get off yourself?" inquired Redgy.
"I contrived to pull off my uniform, bit by bit, and hid it under the
horse's neck. Then I took the big Zulu's feathers and bracelets and put
them on, and tied his cowtails round my waist. No one came near the
part of the field where I was lying while I was doing it. Then I got
up, took the Zulu's assegay, and nobody guessed that I was not a Zulu.
I went first to Mr Ernest, meaning to bury his body. But he was alive,
and did not want to be buried!"
"Ernest alive!" exclaimed George. "Why, I saw the assegay pierce him
through and through?"
"No, it only grazed his ribs, and the handle remained in his side, so
that the blood had stopped. As soon as it got dark, I carried him into
the wood, to a cave which I found there. There he has been lying ever
since, and I have nursed him. I got some supply of food from the camp
before the Zulus took it all. But it was all done yesterday, and Mr
Ernest would have died of hunger, so I came here."
"And you would have died of hunger too, you good fellow, though you
never seem to think of that," said Redgy. "Where have you left Ernest
now?"
"He is still in the cave, Mr Margetts. He is much better, but not able
to walk yet. But he might be brought here quite safely."
"I'll go and speak to the lieutenant, or to Evetts, whichever of them I
can find first," said George. "I have no doubt he will send out a party
to fetch Ernest in. But tell me, Matamo, are the Zulus still in great
numbers about there? Would they attack our fellows if they went out to
bring him here?"
"The Zulus have been gone from Isandhlwana a long while ago," said
Matamo. "If they had remained about there, they must have discovered
Mr Ernest. No; they have carried off the cannon and the rifles and the
revolvers, and everything they fancied. There are nothing but dead
bodies there."
"Very well. As soon as you are rested, a party shall set out. I will
go with it myself."
"Thank you, sir, I want no rest. I can go at once."