_One of them lifted his assegai_ 17
_'The Fairy Tree'_ 20
_Joan hears the Voice_ 28
_Robert thinks Joan crazed_ 34
_'Sir, this is ill done of you'_ 37
_'In a better language than yours,' said Joan_ 46
_'Lead him to the Cross!' cried she_ 50
_'Then spurred she her horse . . . and put out the flame'_ 53
_Joan is wounded by the arrow_ 57
_'Now arose a dispute among the captains'_ 61
_One Englishman at least died well_ 63
_Joan challenges the English to sally forth_ 73
_'Go she would not till she had taken that town'_ 79
_Joan Captured_ 83
_Joan at Beaurevoir_ 85
_'The burned Joan the Maid'_ 89
_The Bass attacked by the frigates_ 97
_Ines pleads for her life_ 101
_'I will send you a champion whom you will fear more than
you fear me'_ 107
_Orthon's last appearance_ 112
_Gustavus leaves school for good!_ 115
_'Lazy loon! Have you no work to do?'_ 119
_'Surrender, Don Alonzo, or you are a dead man!'_ 123
_'In the following night Gudbrand dreamed a dream'_ 127
_The destruction of the idol_ 130
_'Still he cried to his men, "Fight on, fight on!"'_ 134
_Molly takes her husband's place_ 139
_'As we approached we saw the pirate sinking'_ 143
_Falconer knocks down a bird_ 145
_Falconer returns to his companions_ 148
_'Then, drawing their swords, they dashed at the rest'_ 152
_Marbot's fight with the Carabineers in the alley_ 157
_Lisette catches the thief in the stable_ 164
_'I regarded myself as a horseman who is trying to win a
steeplechase'_ 166
_Lisette carries off the Russian officer_ 169
_'Guided by the transport man he reached me and found me
living'_ 172
_'"I will go, sir," I cried'_ 177
_'We had to saw the rope'_ 182
_'The Count leaped up, a knife in his hand'_ 188
_Gaston in prison_ 189
_'But now here sits in the high seat a thin stake'_ 192
_'He fleeth not the flame
Who leapeth o'er the same'_ 193
_The Captain shoots Mr. Cozens_ 202
_Mr. Hamilton's fight with the sea-lion_ 205
_The Cacique fires off the gun_ 208
_Byron rides past the turnpikes_ 211
_The captain guarded by the mutineers_ 228
_The Pitcairn islanders on board the English frigate_ 239
_Old John Adams teaches the children_ 245
_Death of the supercargo_ 248
_'None will now deny that "Long Snake" sails by'_ 255
_Hacon casts his shield away_ 263
_'Go, sir, to your general; tell him what you have
seen . . .'_ 276
_Escape of the Duke of Perth_ 281
_'In many a panelled parlour'_ 284
_'Och no! she be relieved'_ 287
_Mrs. Murray of Broughton distributes cockades to the
crowd_ 289
_James More wounded at Prestonpans_ 293
_Crossing Shap Fell_ 301
_'Many had their broadswords and dirks sharpened'_ 304
_'The Prince caught him by the hair'_ 307
_The poor boy fell, mortally wounded_ 311
_The 'Rout of Moy'_ 315
_The end of Culloden_ 322
_'The advance party of eight started on October 29'_ 327
_Golah is abandoned_ 332
_'King, they are gone!'_ 337
_Death of Burke_ 342
_Besse introduced to the Man in White_ 355
_'Saw reflected in the mirror the white figure'_ 356
_'Sometimes he would find a party searching for him quite
close at hand'_ 360
_Alexander Gordon wood-chopping in the disguise of a
labourer_ 362
_Grisell brings the sheep's head to her father in the
vault_ 367
_A Peruvian postman_ 381
_Almagro wounded in the eye_ 387
_Many of the Spaniards were killed by the snakes and
alligators_ 389
_Amazement of the Indians at seeing a cavalier fall from
his horse_ 391
_Pizarro sees llamas for the first time_ 393
_The cavalier displays his horsemanship before Atahuallpa_ 401
_The friar urges Pizarro to attack the Peruvians_ 404
_The Spaniards destroy the idol at Pachacamac_ 407
_WILSON'S LAST FIGHT_
'They were men whose fathers were men'
TO make it clear how Major Wilson and his companions came to die on the
banks of the Shangani on December 4, 1893, it will be necessary, very
briefly, to sketch the events which led to the war between the English
settlers in Mashonaland in South Africa and the Matabele tribe, an
offshoot of the Zulu race.
In October 1889, at the instance of Mr. Cecil Rhodes and others
interested, the Chartered Company of British South Africa was
incorporated, with the sanction of Her Majesty's Government.
In 1890 Mashonaland was occupied, a vast and fertile territory nominally
under the rule of Lobengula, king of the Matabele, which had been ceded
by him to the representatives of the Company in return for certain
valuable considerations. It is, however, an easier task for savage kings
to sign concessions than to ensure that such concessions will be
respected by their subjects, especially when those 'Subjects' are
warriors by nature, tradition, and practice, as in the present case, and
organised into regiments, kept from year to year in perfect efficiency
and readiness for attack. Whatever may have been Lobengula's private
wishes and opinions, it soon became evident that the gathering of the
white men upon their borders, and in a country which they claimed by
right of conquest if they did not occupy it, was most distasteful to the
more warlike sections of the Matabele.
Mashonaland takes its name from the Mashona tribes who inhabit it, a
peaceful and, speaking by comparison, an industrious race, whom, ever
since they first settled in the neighbourhood, it had been the custom of
the subjects of Lobengula and of his predecessor, Mosilikatze, 'the
lion,' to attack with every cruelty conceivable, raiding their cattle,
slaughtering their men, and sweeping their maidens and young children
into captivity. Terrified, half exterminated indeed, as they were by
these constant and unprovoked onslaughts, the Mashonas welcomed with
delight the occupation of their country by white men, and thankfully
placed themselves under the protection of the Chartered Company.
The Matabele regiments, however, took a different view of the question,
for now their favourite sport was gone: they could no longer practise
rapine and murder, at least in this direction, whenever the spirit moved
them. Presently the force of habit overcame their fear of the white men
and their respect for treaties, and towards the end of 1891 the chief
Lomaghondi, who lived under the protection of the Company, was killed by
them. Thereon Dr. Jameson, the Administrator of Mashonaland,
remonstrated with Lobengula, who expressed regret, saying that the
incident had happened by mistake.
This repudiation notwithstanding, an impi, or armed body of savages,
again crossed the border in 1892, and raided in the Victoria district.
Encouraged by the success of these proceedings, in July 1893 Lobengula
sent a picked company to harry in the neighbourhood of Victoria itself,
writing to Dr. Jameson that he made no excuse for so doing, claiming as
he did the right to raid when, where, and whom he chose. The 'indunas,'
or captains, in command of this force were instructed not to kill white
men, but to fall particularly upon those tribes who were in their
employ. On July 9, 1893, and the following days came the climax, for
then the impi began to slaughter every Mashona whom they could find.
Many of these unfortunates were butchered in the presence of their
masters, who were bidden to 'stand upon one side as the time of the
white men had not yet come.'
Seeing that it was necessary to take action, Dr. Jameson summoned the
head indunas of the impi, and ordered them to cross the border within an
hour or to suffer the consequences of their disobedience. The majority
obeyed, and those who defied him were attacked by Captain Lendy and a
small force while in the act of raiding a kraal, some of them being
killed and the rest driven away.
From this moment war became inevitable, for the question lay between the
breaking of the power of Lobengula and the evacuation of Mashonaland.
Into the details of that war it is not proposed to enter; they are
outside the scope of this narrative. It is enough to say that it was one
of the most brilliant and successful ever carried out by Englishmen.
The odds against the little force of a thousand or twelve hundred white
men who invaded Matabeleland were almost overwhelming, and when it is
remembered that the Imperial troops did not succeed in their contest
against Cetywayo, the Zulu king, until nearly as many soldiers were
massed in the country as there were able-bodied Zulus left to oppose
them, the brilliancy of the achievement of these colonists led by a
civilian, Dr. Jameson, can be estimated. The Matabele were beaten in two
pitched battles: that of the Shangani on October 25, and that of the
Imbembezi on November 1. They fought bravely, even with desperation, but
their valour was broken by the skill and the cool courage of the white
man. Those terrible engines of war, the Maxim guns and the Hotchkiss
shells, contributed largely to our success on these occasions. The
Matabele, brave as they were, could not face the incessant fire of the
Maxims, and as to the Hotchkiss they developed a curious superstition.
Seeing that men fell dead in all directions after the explosion of a
shell, they came to believe that as it burst out of each missile numbers
of tiny and invisible imps ran forth carrying death and destruction to
the white men's foes, and thus it happened that to their minds moral
terrors were added to the physical dangers of warfare. So strong was
this belief among them, indeed, that whenever a shell struck they would
turn and fire at it in the hope that thus they might destroy the 'live
devils' who dwelt within it.
After these battles Lobengula, having first set fire to it, fled from
his chief place, Buluwayo, which was occupied by the white men within a
month of the commencement of the campaign.
In reply to a letter sent to him by Dr. Jameson, demanding his surrender
and guaranteeing his safety, Lobengula wrote that he 'would come in.'
The promised period of two days' grace having gone by, however, and
there being no sign of his appearance, a force was despatched from
Buluwayo to follow and capture him. This force, which was under the
leadership of Major Patrick W. Forbes, consisted of ninety men of the
Salisbury Column, with Captains Heany and Spreckley and a mule Maxim gun
under Lieutenant Biscoe, R.N.; sixty men of the Victoria Column
commanded by Major Wilson, with a horse Maxim under Captain Lendy; sixty
men of the Tuli Column, and ninety men of the Bechuanaland Border
Police, commanded by Captain Raaf, C.M.G., accompanied by two horse
Maxims and a mule seven-pounder, commanded by Captain Tancred.
The column, which started on or about November 14, took with it food
for three days only, carried by natives, and a hundred rounds of
ammunition per man. After several days' journeying northward the patrol
reached the Bubye River, where dissensions arose between Captain Raaf
and Major Forbes, the former being of opinion, rightly enough as the
issue showed, that the mission was too dangerous to be pursued by a
small body of men without supplies of food, and having no reserve of
ammunition and no means of carrying the wounded. The upshot was that
Major Forbes decided to return, but was prevented from doing so by a
letter received from Dr. Jameson, stating that he was sending forward a
reinforcement of dismounted men under Captain Napier with food,
ammunition, and wagons, also sixteen mounted men under Captain Borrow.
The force then proceeded to a deserted Mission Station known as Shiloh.
On November 25 the column, three hundred strong and carrying with it
three-quarter rations for twelve days, took up the King's wagon spoor
about one mile from Shiloh, and followed it through much discomfort,
caused by the constant rain and the lack of roads, till, on December S,
a point was reached on the Shangani River, N.N.W. of Shiloh and distant
from it about eighty miles.
On November 29, however, Major Forbes, finding that he could make small
progress with the wagons, sent them away, and proceeded with the best
mounted men and two Maxims only, so that the actual force which reached
the Shangani on the 3rd consisted of about one hundred and sixty men and
a couple of machine guns.
At this time the information in possession of the leaders of the column
was to the effect that the King was just in front of them across the
river, accompanied only by a few of his followers. Under these
circumstances Major Forbes instructed Major Wilson and eighteen men to
go forward and reconnoitre along Lobengula's spoor; the understanding
seeming to have been that the party was to return by sundown, but that
if it did not return it was, if necessary, to be supported by the whole
column. With this patrol went Mr. Burnham, the American scout, one of
the three surviving white men who were eye-witnesses of that eventful
night's work, which ended so tragically at dawn.
What followed is best told as he narrated it by word of mouth to the
compiler of this true story, and to a reporter of the 'Westminster
Gazette,' the editor of which paper has courteously given permission for
the reproduction of the interview. Indeed, it would be difficult to tell
it so well in words other than Mr. Burnham's own.
[Illustration: Sketch of Route of the Wilson Patrol and of the Scouts'
ride back to Major Forbes _Drawn from memory by Mr. Burnham_
N.B. _Supposed distance of King's Wagons from Forbes Camp 5 Miles,
windings by the Spoor might be a little more._]
'In the afternoon of December 8,' says Mr. Burnham, 'I was scouting
ahead of the column with Colenbrander, when in a strip of bush we lit on
two Matabele boys driving some cattle, one of whom we caught and brought
in. He was a plucky boy, and when threatened he just looked us sullenly
in the face. He turned out to be a sort of grandson or grand-nephew of
Lobengula himself. He said the King's camp was just ahead, and the King
himself near, with very few men, and these sick, and that he wanted to
give himself up. He represented that the King had been back to this
place that very day to get help because his wagons were stuck in a bog.
The column pushed on through the strip of bush, and there, near by, was
the King's camp--quite deserted. We searched the huts, and in one lay a
Maholi slave-boy, fast asleep. (The Maholis are the slaves of the
Matabele.) We pulled him out, and were questioning him, when the other
boy, the sulky Matabele, caught his eye, and gave him a ferocious look,
shouting across to him to take care what he told.
'The slave-boy agreed with the others that the King had only left this
camp the day before; but as it was getting dark, Major Forbes decided to
reconnoitre before going on with the column. I learnt of the decision to
send forward Major Wilson and fifteen men on the best horses when I got
my orders to accompany them, and, along with Bayne, to do their
scouting. My horse was exhausted with the work he had done already; I
told Major Forbes, and he at once gave me his. It was a young horse,
rather skittish, but strong and fairly fresh by comparison.
'Ingram, my fellow-scout, remained with the column, and so got some
hours' rest; thanks to which he was able not only to do his part of
tracking for the twenty men afterwards sent on to us through the bush at
night, but also, when he and I got through after the smash, to do the
long and dangerous ride down country to Buluwayo with the despatches--a
ride on which he was accompanied by Lynch.
'So we set off along the wagon track, while the main body of the column
went into laager.
'Close to the river the track turned and led down stream along the west
bank. Two miles down was a drift' (they call a fordable dip a drift in
South Africa), 'and here the track crossed the Shangani. We splashed
through, and the first thing we scouts knew on the other side was that
we were riding into the middle of a lot of Matabele among some scherms,
or temporary shelters. There were men, and some women and children. The
men were armed. We put a bold face on it, and gave out the usual
announcement that we did not want to kill anybody, but must have the
King. The natives seemed surprised and undecided; presently, as Major
Wilson and the rest of the patrol joined us, one of them volunteered to
come along with us and guide us to the King. He was only just ahead, the
man said. How many men were with him? we asked. The man put up his
little finger--dividing it up, so. Five fingers mean an impi; part of
the little finger, like that, should mean fifty to one hundred men.
Wilson said to me, "Go on ahead, taking that man beside your saddle;
cover him, fire if necessary, but don't you let him slip."
'So we started off again at a trot, for the light was failing, the man
running beside my horse, and I keeping a sharp eye on him. The track led
through some thick bush. We passed several scherms. Five miles from the
river we came to a long narrow vlei [a vlei is a shallow valley,
generally with water in it], which lay across our path. It was now
getting quite dark. Coming out of the bush on the near edge of the vlei,
before going down into it, I saw fires lit, and scherms and figures
showing dark against the fires right along the opposite edge of the
vlei. We skirted the vlei to our left, got round the end of it, and at
once rode through a lot of scherms containing hundreds of people. As we
went, Captain Napier shouted the message about the King wherever there
was a big group of people. We passed scherm after scherm, and still more
Matabele, more fires, and on we rode. Instead of the natives having been
scattering from the King, they had been gathering. But it was too late
to turn. We were hard upon our prize, and it was understood among the
Wilson patrol that they were going to bring the King in if man could do
it. The natives were astonished: they thought the whole column was on
them: men jumped up, and ran hither and thither, rifle in hand. We went
on without stopping, and as we passed more and more men came running
after us. Some of them were crowding on the rearmost men, so Wilson told
off three fellows to "keep those niggers back." They turned, and kept
the people in check. At last, nearly at the other end of the vlei,
having passed five sets of scherms, we came upon what seemed to be the
King's wagons, standing in a kind of enclosure, with a saddled white
horse tethered by it. Just before this, in the crowd and hurry, my man
slipped away, and I had to report to Wilson that I had lost him. Of
course it would not have done to fire. One shot would have been the
match in the powder magazine. We had ridden into the middle of the
Matabele nation.
'At this enclosure we halted and sang out again, making a special appeal
to the King and those about him. No answer came. All was silence. A few
drops of rain fell. Then it lightened, and by the flashes we could just
see men getting ready to fire on us, and Napier shouted to Wilson,
"Major, they are about to attack." I at the same-time saw them closing
in on us rapidly from the right. The next thing to this fifth scherm was
some thick bush; the order was given to get into that, and in a moment
we were out of sight there. One minute after hearing us shout, the
natives with the wagons must have been unable to see a sign of us. Just
then it came on to rain heavily; the sky, already cloudy, got black as
ink; the night fell so dark that you could not see your hand before
you.
'We could not stay the night where we were, for we were so close that
they would hear our horses' bits. So it was decided to work down into
the vlei, creep along close to the other edge of it to the end we first
came round, farthest from the King's camp, and there spend the night.
This, like all the other moves, was taken after consultation with the
officers, several of whom were experienced Kaffir campaigners. It was
rough going; we were unable to see our way, now splashing through the
little dongas that ran down into the belly of the vlei, now working
round them, through bush and soft bottoms. At the far end, in a clump of
thick bush, we dismounted, and Wilson sent off Captain Napier, with a
man of his called Robinson, and the Victoria scout, Bayne, to go back
along the wagon-track to the column, report how things stood, and bring
the column on, with the Maxims, as sharp as possible. Wilson told
Captain Napier to tell Forbes if the bush bothered the Maxim carriages
to abandon them and put the guns on horses, but to bring the Maxims
without fail. We all understood--and we thought the message was
this--that if we were caught there at dawn without the Maxims we were
done for. On the other hand was the chance of capturing the King and
ending the campaign at a stroke.
'The spot we had selected to stop in until the arrival of Forbes was a
clump of heavy bush not far from the King's spoor--and yet so far from
the Kaffir camps that they could not hear us if we kept quiet. We
dismounted, and on counting it was found that three of the men were
missing. They were Hofmeyer, Bradburn and Colquhoun. Somewhere in
winding through the bush from the King's wagons to our present position
these men were lost. Not a difficult thing, for we only spoke in
whispers, and, save for the occasional click of a horse's hoof, we could
pass within ten feet of each other and not be aware of it.
'Wilson came to me and said, "Burnham, can you follow back along the
vlei where we've just come?" I doubted it very much as it was black and
raining; I had no coat, having been sent after the patrol immediately I
came in from firing the King's huts, and although it was December, or
midsummer south of the line, the rain chilled my fingers. Wilson said,
"Come, I must have those men back." I told him I should need some one to
lead my horse so as to feel the tracks made in the ground by our horses.
He replied, "I will go with you. I want to see how you American fellows
work."
'Wilson was no bad hand at tracking himself, and I was put on my mettle
at once. We began, and I was flurried at first, and did not seem to get
on to it somehow; but in a few minutes I picked up the spoor and hung to
it.
'So we started off together, Wilson and I, in the dark. It was hard
work, for one could see nothing; one had to feel for the traces with
one's fingers. Creeping along, at last we stood close to the wagons,
where the patrol had first retreated into the bush.
'"If we only had the force here now," said Wilson, "we would soon
finish."
'But there was still no sign of the three men, so there was nothing for
it but to shout. Retreating into the vlei in front of the King's camp,
we stood calling and cooeying for them, long and low at first, then
louder. Of course there was a great stir along the lines of the native
scherms, for they did not know what to make of it. We heard afterwards
that the natives were greatly alarmed as the white men seemed to be
everywhere at once, and the indunas went about quieting the men, and
saying "Do you think the white men are on you, children? Don't you know
a wolf's howl when you hear it?"
'After calling for a bit, we heard an answering call away down the vlei,
and the darkness favouring us, the lost men soon came up and we arrived
at the clump of bushes where the patrol was stationed. We all lay down
in the mud to rest, for we were tired out. It had left off raining, but
it was a miserable night, and the hungry horses had been under saddle,
some of them twenty hours, and were quite done.
'So we waited for the column.
'During the night we could hear natives moving across into the bush
which lay between us and the river. We heard the branches as they pushed
through. After a while Wilson asked me if I could go a little way around
our position and find out what the Kaffirs were doing. I always think he
heard something, but he did not say so. I slipped out and on our right
heard the swirl of boughs and the splash of feet. Circling round for a
little time I came on more Kaffirs. I got so close to them I could touch
them as they passed, but it was impossible to say how many there were,
it was so dark. This I reported to Wilson. Raising his head on his hand
he asked me a few questions, and made the remark that if the column
failed to come up before daylight, "we are in a hard hole," and told me
to go out on the King's spoor and watch for Forbes, so that by no
possibility should he pass us in the darkness. It was now, I should
judge, 1 A.M. on the 4th of December.
[Illustration: 'JUST AS HIS ARM WAS POISED I FIRED']
'I went, and for a long, long time I heard only the dropping of the rain
from the leaves and now and then a dog barking in the scherms, but at
last, just as it got grey in the east, I heard a noise, and placing my
ear close to the ground, made it out to be the tramp of horses. I ran
back to Wilson and said "The column is here."
'We all led our horses out to the King's spoor. I saw the form of a man
tracking. It was Ingram. I gave him a low whistle; he came up, and
behind him rode--not the column, not the Maxims, but just twenty men
under Captain Borrow. It was a terrible moment--"_If_ we were caught
there at dawn"--and already it was getting lighter every minute.
'One of us asked "Where is the column?" to which the reply was, "You see
all there are of us." We answered, "Then you are only so many more men
to die."
'Wilson went aside with Borrow, and there was earnest talk for a few
moments. Presently all the officers' horses' heads were together; and
Captain Judd said in my hearing, "Well, this is the end." And Kurten
said quite quietly, "We shall never get out of this."
'Then Wilson put it to the officers whether we should try and break
through the impis which were now forming up between us and the river, or
whether we would go for the King and sell our lives in trying to get
hold of him. The final decision was for this latter.
'So we set off and walked along the vlei back to the King's wagons. It
was quite light now and they saw us from the scherms all the way, but
they just looked at us and we at them, and so we went along. We walked
because the horses hadn't a canter in them, and there was no hurry
anyway.
'At the wagons we halted and shouted out again about not wanting to kill
anyone. There was a pause, and then came shouts and a volley. Afterwards
it was said that somebody answered, "If you don't want to kill, we do."
My horse jumped away to the right at the volley, and took me almost into
the arms of some natives who came running from that side. A big induna
blazed at me, missed me, and then fumbled at his belt for another
cartridge. It was not a proper bandolier he had on, and I saw him trying
to pluck out the cartridge instead of easing it up from below with
his finger. As I got my horse steady and threw my rifle down to cover
him, he suddenly let the cartridge be and lifted an assegai. Waiting to
make sure of my aim, just as his arm was poised I fired and hit him in
the chest; he dropped. All happened in a moment. Then we retreated.
Seeing two horses down, Wilson shouted to somebody to cut off the saddle
pockets which carried extra ammunition. Ingram picked up one of the
dismounted men behind him, Captain Fitzgerald the other. The most
ammunition anyone had, by the way, was a hundred and ten rounds. There
was some very stiff fighting for a few minutes, the natives having the
best of the position; indeed they might have wiped us out but for their
stupid habit of firing on the run, as they charged. Wilson ordered us to
retire down the vlei; some hundred yards further on we came to an
ant-heap and took our second position on that, and held it for some
time. Wilson jumped on the top of the ant-heap and shouted--"Every man
pick his nigger." There was no random firing, I would be covering a man
when he dropped to somebody's rifle, and I had to choose another.
'Now _we_ had the best of the position. The Matabele came on furiously
down the open. Soon we were firing at two hundred yards and less; and
the turned-up shields began to lie pretty thick over the ground. It got
too hot for them; they broke and took cover in the bush. We fired about
twenty rounds per man at this ant-heap. Then the position was flanked by
heavy reinforcements from among the timbers; several more horses were
knocked out and we had to quit. We retreated in close order into the
bush on the opposite side of the vlei--the other side from the scherms.
We went slowly on account of the disabled men and horses.
'There was a lull, and Wilson rode up to me and asked if I thought I
could rush through to the main column. A scout on a good horse might
succeed, of course, where the patrol as a whole would not stand a
chance. It was a forlorn hope, but I thought it was only a question of
here or there, and I said I'd try, asking for a man to be sent with me.
A man called Gooding said he was willing to come, and I picked Ingram
also because we had been through many adventures together, and I thought
we might as well see this last one through together.
'So we started, and we had not gone five hundred yards when we came upon
the horn of an impi closing in from the river. We saw the leading men,
and they saw us and fired. As they did so I swerved my horse sharp to
the left, and shouting to the others, "Now for it!" we thrust the
horses through the bush at their best pace. A bullet whizzed past my
eye, and leaves, cut by the firing, pattered down on us; but as usual
the natives fired too high.
'So we rode along, seeing men, and being fired at continually, but
outstripping the enemy. The peculiar chant of an advancing impi, like a
long, monotonous baying or growling, was loud in our ears, together with
the noise they make drumming on their hide shields with the assegai--you
must hear an army making those sounds to realise them. As soon as we got
where the bush was thinner, we shook off the niggers who were pressing
us, and, coming to a bit of hard ground, we turned on our tracks and hid
in some thick bush. We did this more than once and stood quiet,
listening to the noise they made beating about for us on all sides. Of
course we knew that scores of them must have run gradually back upon the
river to cut us off, so we doubled and waited, getting so near again to
the patrol that once during the firing which we heard thickening back
there, the spent bullets pattered around us. Those waiting moments were
bad. We heard firing soon from the other side of the river too, and
didn't know but that the column was being wiped out as well as the
patrol.
'At last, after no end of doubling and hiding and riding in a triple
loop, and making use of every device known to a scout for destroying a
spoor--it took us about three hours and a half to cover as many
miles--we reached the river, and found it a yellow flood two hundred
yards broad. In the way African rivers have, the stream, four feet
across last night, had risen from the rain. We did not think our horses
could swim it, utterly tired as they now were; but we were just playing
the game through, so we decided to try. With their heads and ours barely
above the water, swimming and drifting, we got across and crawled out on
the other side. Then for the first time, I remember, the idea struck me
that we might come through it after all, and with that the desire of
life came passionately back upon me.
We topped the bank, and there, five hundred yards in front to the left,
stood several hundred Matabele! They stared at us in utter surprise,
wondering, I suppose, if we were the advance guard of some entirely new
reinforcement. In desperation we walked our horses quietly along in
front of them, paying no attention to them. We had gone some distance
like this, and nobody followed behind, till at last one man took a shot
at us; and with that a lot more of them began to blaze away. Almost at
the same moment Ingram caught sight of horses only four or five hundred
yards distant; so the column still existed--and there it was. We took
the last gallop out of our horses then, and--well, in a few minutes I
was falling out of the saddle, and saying to Forbes: "It's all over; we
are the last of that party!" Forbes only said, "Well, tell nobody else
till we are through with our own fight," and next minute we were just
firing away along with the others, helping to beat off the attack on the
column.'
Here Mr. Burnham's narrative ends.
* * * * *
What happened to Wilson and his gallant companions, and the exact manner
of their end after Burnham and his two comrades left them, is known only
through the reports of natives who took part in the fight. This,
however, is certain: since the immortal company of Greeks died at
Thermopylae, few, if any, such stands have been made in the face of
inevitable death. They knew what the issue must be; for them there was
no possibility of escape; the sun shone upon them for the last time, and
for the last time the air of heaven blew upon their brows. Around them,
thousand upon thousand, were massed their relentless foes, the bush
echoed with war-cries, and from behind every tree and stone a ceaseless
fire was poured upon their circle. But these four-and-thirty men never
wavered, never showed a sign of fear. Taking shelter behind the boles of
trees, or the bodies of their dead horses, they answered the fire shot
for shot, coolly, with perfect aim, without haste or hurry.
The bush around told this tale of them in after days, for the bark of
every tree was scored with bullets, showing that wherever an enemy had
exposed his head there a ball had been sent to seek him. Also there was
another testimony--that of the bones of the dead Matabele, the majority
of whom had clearly fallen shot through the brain. The natives
themselves state that for every white man who died upon that day, there
perished at least ten of their own people, picked off, be it remembered,
singly as they chanced to expose themselves. Nor did the enemy waste
life needlessly, for their general ordered up the King's elephant
hunters, trained shots, every one of them, to compete with the white
man's fire.
For two long hours or more that fight went on. Now and again a man was
killed, and now and again a man was wounded, but the wounded still
continued to load the rifles that they could not fire, handing them to
those of their companions who were as yet unhurt. At some period during
the fray, so say the Matabele, the white men began to 'sing.' What is
meant by the singing we can never know, but probably they cheered aloud
after repelling a rash of the enemy. At length their fire grew faint and
infrequent, till by degrees it flickered away, for men were lacking to
handle the rifles. One was left, however, who stood alone and erect in
the ring of the dead, no longer attempting to defend himself, either
because he was weak with wounds, or because his ammunition was
exhausted. There he stood silent and solitary, presenting one of the
most pathetic yet splendid sights told of in the generation that he
adorned. There was no more firing now, but the natives stole out of
their cover and came up to the man quietly, peering at him half afraid.
Then one of them lifted his assegai and drove it through his breast.
Still he did not fall; so the soldier drew out the spear and, retreating
a few yards, he hurled it at him, transfixing him. Now, very slowly,
making no sound, the white man sank forward upon his face, and so lay
still.
There seems to be little doubt but that this man was none other than
Major Allan Wilson, the commander of the patrol. Native reports of his
stature and appearance suggest this, but there is a stronger piece of
evidence. The Matabele told Mr. Burnham who repeated it to the present
writer, that this man wore a hat of a certain shape and size, fastened
up at the side in a peculiar fashion; a hat similar to that which Mr.
Burnham wore himself. Now, these hats were of American make, and Major
Wilson was the only man in that party who possessed one of them, for Mr.
Burnham himself had looped it up for him in the American style, if
indeed he had not presented it to him.
The tragedy seemed to be finished, but it was not so, for as the natives
stood and stared at the fallen white men, from among the dead a man rose
up, to all appearance unharmed, holding in each hand a revolver, or a
'little Maxim' as they described it. Having gained his feet he walked
slowly and apparently aimlessly away towards an ant-heap that stood at
some distance. At the sight the natives began to fire again, scores, and
even hundreds, of shots being aimed at him, but, as it chanced, none of
them struck him. Seeing that he remained untouched amidst this hail of
lead, they cried out that he was 'tagati,' or magic-guarded, but the
indunas ordered them to continue their fire. They did so, and a bullet
passing through his hips, the Englishman fell down paralysed. Then
finding that he could not turn they ran round him and stabbed him, and
he died firing with either hand back over his shoulders at the
slaughterers behind him.
So perished the last of the Wilson patrol. He seems to have been
Alexander Hay Robertson--at least Mr. Burnham believes that it was he,
and for this reason. Robertson, he says, was the only man of the party
who had grey hair, and at a little distance from the other skeletons was
found a skull to which grey hair still adhered.
[Illustration: 'One of them lifted his assegai']
It is the custom among savages of the Zulu and kindred races, for
reasons of superstition, to rip open and mutilate the bodies of enemies
killed in war, but on this occasion the Matabele general, having
surveyed the dead, issued an order: 'Let them be,' he said; 'they were
men who died like men, men whose fathers were men.'
No finer epitaph could be composed in memory of Wilson and his comrades.
In truth the fame of this death of theirs has spread far and wide
throughout the native races of Southern Africa, and Englishmen
everywhere reap the benefit of its glory. They also who lie low, they
reap the benefit of it, for their story is immortal, and it will be
told hundreds of years hence when it matters no more to them whether
they died by shot and steel on the banks of the Shangani, or elsewhere
in age and sickness. At least through the fatal storm of war they have
attained to peace and honour, and there within the circle of the ruins
of Zimbabwe they sleep their sleep, envied of some and revered by all.
Surely it is no small thing to have attained to such a death, and
England may be proud of her sons who won it.
_THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JOAN THE MAID_
I