part. The friendly Kaffirs were compelled at the point of the bayonet to bring the bags of mealies from the store and place them in position. The walls were loopholed, doors and windows blocked, ammunition served out, and the water-cart was filled and brought within the enclosure. A hundred native troopers of Durnford's Horse now rode up, and an officer asked for instructions, Colonel Durnford having been killed. The men were ordered to watch the enemy, hold them in check as long as possible, and, when that became impracticable, to retire on the post and help in the defence. In about an hour, and before much could be done by way of fortifying the camp, the sound of distant firing announced the approach of the Zulus. With the first boom of the guns the two hundred friendly natives ran off, to a man, and the troopers of Durnford's Horse, demoralized by the loss of their leader and exhausted with a hard day's fighting, galloped off towards Helpmakaar, to the consternation of the little garrison. The defen. ders being thus diminished in numbers the line of defence was too long for them to hold; a row of biscuit-boxes was therefore hastily thrown across to provide a second rampart, behind which they might retire if necessary. The Zulus advanced at first in three companies, about fifteen hundred men in each, under the command of Cetewayo's brother, crossed the Buffalo River about four miles below Rorke's Drift, climbed some rising ground, and, squatting on the grass, took snuff and considered the situation. They were not long in deciding on their plan of attack, and were soon seen pouring round the Oscarsburg in a dense mass. As they advanced, in good order, the column of men opened and threw out horns with the object of surrounding the place. The main 40 LIVING AGE. VOL. I. body, with yells of savage exultation, charged the hospital at a run, thinking to make short work of the English. Most of those who had guns climbed the heights of the Oscarsburg, whence, secure among the clefts of the rocks, they poured in such a continuous rain of bullets as would have speedily put an end to the unequal contest had their marksmen been skilful. At the end of the hospital furthest from the store four men were stationed. Privates John Williams and Joseph Williams defended one of the wards, in which were four patients, and Privates Hook and Cole defended a small room which formed the back corner of the building next to a ward containing six patients. On the approach of the enemy Cole made his escape by the front of the house, and joined the main body of his comrades behind the barricade, where he was one of the first to fall mortally wounded by a Zulu bullet. Hook, who was now left by himself, had a Martini-Henry rifle with bayonet attached, and previous to the assault had distributed about his clothing more than a hundred cartridges. He, and the two Williams, kept up a steady fire on the advancing Zulus through the loopholes in the walls. But the work was too rapid for safety, and during an interval in the combat, Hook discovered to his consternation that the heat of his gun had jambed a cartridge. The piece was now useless! Seizing his cleaning-rod he rammed it down the barrel with the energy of despair, and succeeded in forcing out the spent cartridge just in the nick of time; however, the rush of Zulus was too strong for one man to cope with, and he had to retreat into the next room,-the ward containing six patients. Meanwhile the two Williams had been hard pressed. Fourteen Zulus had fallen under their fire; but in one of the furious assaults the door of the room they were in (an outer door which had been blocked) was burst open, and Joseph Williams with two patients was dragged out and cut to pieces. While this was going on, John Williams made a hole with his pick through the inner wall of the room, and now, with the other two patients, crawled into the ward where Henry Hook was. This room therefore contained eight sick men and the two privates. Meanwhile the Zulus, who had advanced against the front of the hospital under cover of the garden, were not idle, and, though repulsed with great loss, kept up a persistent attack. At last, by sheer force of numbers, they drove the English to take refuge behind their second rampart, and, swarming over the first line of defence, broke into the hospital through the front doors. Some set fire to the thatched roof, which soon began to blaze; others rushed towards the ward in which the ten men were entrapped. "Quick!" said Hook to Williams. "Make a hole with your pick into the next room, while I defend the doorway; it's our only chance!" A slender chance indeed, as Hook knew full well! As he spoke the Zulus were upon him. They advanced with fiendish yells to complete the work of massacre, hurling their assegais, one of which wounded Hook in the forehead. And now commenced a struggle for life against time, fire, and overwhelming odds. Fortunately Hook kept quite cool, and at each shot a savage fell. Sometimes the foe came on so quickly that the man had no time to fire, and then the bayonet did good service. Seven men lay dead before the fatal doorway, but still the Zulus fearlessly pressed forward over the bodies of their comrades. Seizing the muzzle of the gun, even as its contents were about to be discharged into their naked breasts, they tried to wrest the weapon from Hook's grasp; the barrel grew so heated with constant use that it took the flesh off his blistered hand. Overhead, the blazing roof crackled fiercely as the flames gathered force, and the smoke mingled with the smoke of the gun. The ammunition was fast disappearing, and still Williams worked hard with the pick. The sick men were powerless to help. Was it possible for Hook to hold out? At last the hole was made, and Williams managed to drag seven of the invalids through; the eighth, who had a broken leg which had not long been set, still remained. Hook seized him by the collar, and made a rush for the opening. As he did so a Zulu bullet lodged in the man's coat, and it was only at the cost of breaking his leg a second time that Hook managed to drag him through. The room in which they now found themselves had only an outside door, and this had been securely blocked; could they have got through it they would only have fallen into the hands of the Zulus. The one thing to be done was to pass from room to room of the burning house, and join the main body of the defenders. While Hook, therefore, undertook the now easier task of defending the hole instead of the door, Williams wielded the pick, and made a hole through the wall on the further side of the room, by which they all crawled into the next ward. This too had only an outer door, which had been blocked, and another hole had accordingly to be made before they could pass into the farthest room. On the opposite side of this room a small window was just discernible through the wreathing clouds of smoke, and by it they must escape, for they could not break through the wall, which was an end one, and built, as has been said, of stone. There were two doors to this apartment, and out side the one that led through the inner wall the Zulus could be seen brandishing their assegais as they came on to the attack. The sight of them, their horrid yells, the crackling of the blazing roof which threatened every instant to fall, the noise of the guns, the apparent hopelessness of their position, drove one of the patients, who was somewhat light-headed with fever, mad; making a rush for the door, he was, after a fierce struggle, seized and hacked to pieces outside. His death gave the others time to clamber through the window and drop to the ground; and the nine men were now so far safe that they were clear of the burning hospital just as the ammunition was exhausted. They had, however, only exchanged one form of danger for another. Unknown to them, the English had been driven behind the second line of defence, the single row of biscuit-boxes more than a hundred feet from the hospital. The intervening space was thick with the smoke of the guns; it was swept by Zulu bullets from the heights of the Oscarsburg; corpses covered the ground; assegais were flying in all directions; yet only by crossing this field of death could precarious shelter be reached. Hook managed to hoist the brokenlegged man on to his back. He was tall, and, powerless to help himself, hung like a sack, his feet dragging along the ground. The slow progress was frightful. An assegai, hurled through the air, struck the man, but fortunately stuck harmlessly in his over-coat. Great beads of sweat gathered on Hook's brow; his veins stood out like cords; his breath came in broken gasps; his legs tottered beneath him. One more supreme effort and he neared the barricade; he was seen, recognized, and helped inside, both rescuer and rescued unharmed by spear or bullet. Faint and exhausted as Hook was, he had to turn to immediately, and fight shoulder to shoulder with his sorely pressed comrades for dear life. Suddenly, there being no twilight in this region, night fell, and the enemy would have made short work of them had not the flames from the burning hospital, the roof of which had by this time fallen in, lighted up the darkness and rendered each Zulu warrior as he broke cover an easy target for the guns. The dead lay so thick as to form a kind of rampart round the beleaguered place; yet again and again with the utmost courage the enemy came on, climbing over the bodies of their comrades, swarming over the defences, and seizing the rifles pointed at them. Six times they got inside the first line of defence, and six times were driven back by the bayonet, the little garrison sallying out and harassing their retreat. Before each attack the enemy always performed a wardance, and then, having worked themselves into a frenzy, rushed fearlessly with devilish yells at the barricades. An attempt was made by them to fire the store-house, and one fellow was shot as he was in the act of applying a lighted torch to the roof. Thus the fight raged without ceasing for eleven hours. Marvellous to say, the defenders had lost only seventeen men, while between three and four hundred Zulus had fallen. Suddenly, about three o'clock, the attack ceased, and the enemy retired in apparent discouragement. This short respite was made the most of by strengthening the defences. Two or three men climbed on to the roof of the storehouse, and began to strip it off to prevent its being fired; but they had not made much progress, when they happened to catch sight of the Zulus stealthily returning to the attack. They at once gave the alarm, and the wearied sol diers, standing to their arms, prepared to renew the desperate struggle. To remain on the roof was but to furnish a target for the enemy's guns; the men therefore descended one by one, and the last to leave, before he followed his comrades, cast a comprehensive glance around. In that clear atmosphere, as has been said, one can see a long distance, and the sight that met his eyes made his heart beat fast, and his cheek flush with excitement. "Hurrah!" he shouted joyfully, "hurrah! The army of Lord Chelmsford is in sight!" And sure enough, over the low hills eastward, though still some miles distant, the English soldiers could be plainly seen advancing. The little garrison cheered lustily and turned again to the struggle with new hope. But it was soon seen that the Zulus also had got hold of the intelligence, and, after some hesitation, they finally withdrew. Rorke's Drift was safe. Messengers from Isandlana the day before had brought word to the Commander-in-Chief that an attack in force had been made on the camp, and he had returned in hot haste to find that the force left there had been practically annihilated. From thence he marched to Rorke's Drift full of the gloomiest forebodings with regard to its fate-forebodings confirmed apparently by the column of smoke rising from the burning hospital. If Rorke's Drift had fallen, so probably had Helpmakaar, leaving Natal, and indeed South Africa, at the mercy of the Zulus. His army was exhausted by four and twenty hours' forced march; it was destitute of provisions, and almost entirely of ammunition. Lord Chelmsford was therefore distracted with anxiety, knowing that he stood in the greatest jeopardy. And now through their field-glasses the officers saw some one on the roof of the store waving the English flag. Was it only a ruse of the enemy? Colonel (now Sir Baker) Russell, and a troop of mounted infantry dashed forward in advance, and crossed the Buffalo River warily, straining their eyes and ears for some sign which might allay their apprehensions. Then, as they came within hail, a ringing British cheer resolved all doubts. Soon the rest of the troops came up, and as the General rode around the smoking ruins and battered defences, saw the heaps of dead Zulus, and heard the thrilling story of the siege, he heartily thanked the brave handful of defenders, and enthusiastically acknowledged that it was the most gallant action he had ever heard of. Later on the same morning Private Hook was again busily engaged, this time in making coffee for his thirsty comrades. He was in his shirt and trousers, his braces hanging down behind; and, as he had had no opportunity to wash, his face and hands were still black with smoke and powder. Suddenly he received a peremptory order to appear before the General, and as there was no time to make himself respectable, he obeyed with a quaking heart, and was ushered into the presence of the Commander-inChief and the assembled officers. Lord Chelmsford began to question him with regard to the defence of the hospital, but he was so overcome with confusion that it was with difficulty he could stammer forth a few words in reply. However, the whole story had been already told by the grateful broken-legged man and the other patients. The Commander-in-Chief shook hands with him, and highly complimented him upon his bravery; and this so added to his confusion that he hardly knew whether he stood on his head or heels. Nor did the matter end here; he was recommended for the Victoria Cross, together with his com This warm, dry, dusty autumn, with no morning fog, and never a cloud in the sky-this light breeze blowing always from the north-east, and this dazzling sunshine-I know them all too well! They remind me of the tragic September of 1870. We had the same sort of weather then-precisely the same and while the greatness of France was crumbling about us the barometer stood at beau fixe. Once more Nature flaunted her indifference to the agitation of our ant-hill; and her mysterious calm affected us with a sense of irony and injury. You need not shrug your shoulders, young folks! It was a frightful thing to awake in the morning, and to feel that as the white light filtered between the leaves of your shutters the invaders were marching on Paris. Above a city thrown into wild confusion by the preparations for defence-above citizens going hastily through the manual of arms-above the unnerved masses, intoxicating themselves with martial phrases and foolish hopes while every heart was really quivering with apprehensionthe skies beamed and smiled wore their most festal aspect. radiant azure overhead seemed to put and The 1 Private John Williams received the Cross afterwards at Gibraltar. the finishing touch to our consternation. How far away it all seems! Scarcely any material trace is now left in Paris of that enormous disaster; but the folk of my generation have not forgotten it, and they never will. They think of the lost provinces and the mutilated frontier, and of that vast forfeiture so long endured-shall we say-alas! passively accepted? Through the still autumnal air breathing always from the east they seem to hear a cruel echo of the triumphant "hoch!" which they lift up over there upon glorious anniversaries. And the exceptional beauty of this belated summer, this clear, sunshiny month, render their memories more poignant and mournful than ever before. For my own part, I am beset and besieged by them. All the old anguish comes back;-the distressing contrast between the imposing calm of Nature and the hideous confusion of war. live over again the warm days-so exactly like these!-which I lived in the chaotic city. I Now I am at the Luxembourg, going through the exercise with my company, sweating in my pea-jacket with the metal buttons, awkwardly handling the heavy, old-fashioned musket altered into a rifle. The sky Translated for The Living Age. |