CHAPTER XXII.

SOME OTHER ZULU AND SOME BASUTO CROSSES.

The progress of the Zulu campaign was marked by many ups and downs before reinforcements arrived to strengthen Lord Chelmsford’s force and a crushing defeat could be inflicted upon the enemy at Cetewayo’s capital, Ulundi. But, though our troops sometimes found themselves in a tight corner, the disaster of Isandhlana was fortunately not repeated. The lesson of that fatal blunder had been learned.

Of the columns besides that which Lord Chelmsford himself led into Zululand, the one commanded by Colonel Pearson had met with some success. This officer had been despatched to a post near the mouth of the Tugela, in the south-east corner of Zululand. Marching into the country, he fought a decisive action by the Inyezani River, and occupied Eshowe.

The remaining column under Colonel Evelyn Wood, marching to a station on the Upper Blood River, established its base on the Kambula Hill. From this force a small garrison was provided for the town of Luneberg, and it was in connection with this post that another V.C. was pluckily won on the 12th of March.

News coming of a convoy of supplies being on its way to Luneberg, Captain Moriarty went out to meet it with a detachment of the 80th (2nd Batt. S. Staffordshire) Regiment. The convoy, or rather the first part of it, was met by the Intombi River. Here a laager was formed, and the escort was divided into two sections, one on each side of the river. Seventy-one men were on the left bank with Captain Moriarty, while on the opposite bank were thirty-five under Lieutenant Harward.

During the night of the 11th of March, while both of the little camps were sleeping soundly in their tents, a thick fog rolled up, and with it came a Zulu impi. Soon after daybreak a sentry in Moriarty’s camp gave the alarm. Orders were promptly given for the soldiers to stand to their arms, but ere this could be done the Zulus were upon them. Nearly all the men on the left bank were massacred as they came flying from their tents, their captain being almost the first to fall.

On the other side of the river the soldiers had had time to arm, and they quickly opened fire upon the enemy. A number of the Zulus now swam across the river, although it was much swollen by the rains, and seeing this Lieutenant Harward did what has always been characterised as a very cowardly thing. He left his men to take care of themselves, and galloped off to Luneberg. His defence at the court-martial which was subsequently held upon him was that he rode away for help, and on some technicality he was acquitted. Lord Chelmsford, however, plainly showed that he disagreed with the Court’s decision.

In the meantime, while their officer took to his heels, Sergeant Booth rallied the men and assumed command. For three miles the sergeant fell back slowly with his little company, fighting the enemy all the time and keeping them at a respectful distance. And he brought the whole of the thirty-five safe into Luneberg, not a single man of them having been killed! For this conspicuous action Booth was soon afterwards decorated with the Cross for Valour.

At the storming of the Inhlobane Mountain near Kambula, a fortnight after the above event, several more V.C.’s were won in an exceptionally gallant manner. Colonel Wood, as has been said, had his camp on the Kambula Hill. Anticipating an attack from the Zulus, who were on the Inhlobane, he decided to strike first, and despatched a little force under Colonel Redvers Buller with instructions to surprise the enemy and dislodge them. The attack was delivered on the night of the 27th and the morning of the 28th of March.

Leading his men, who were mostly colonials of the Frontier Light Horse, and loyal natives, Buller climbed up the steep side of the mountain in the mist, and with a brilliant rush drove the Zulus from their little stone forts. The stronghold was captured, but the flying warriors took refuge in the numerous caves with which the place abounded, and great difficulty was experienced in routing them out of these.

One party, whose fire caused some havoc among the troops, had found a particularly well-sheltered position. It was clear that they would have to be dislodged. Certain orders, it is said, were given for this cave to be stormed, but, chafing at the delay that occurred, Captain the Hon. Robert Campbell of the Coldstreams, with Lieutenant Henry Lysons of the Cameronians (Scottish Rifles) and Private Edmond Fowler, of the Perthshire Light Infantry, dashed forward to undertake the difficult task. Many fallen boulders and thick clumps of bushes impeded their path, and, to add to the hazard of the attempt, the approach to the cave led between two walls of rock where the passage was so narrow that they had to walk in single file.

Campbell took the post of honour at the head of the dauntless three and was shot at the mouth of the cave. Leaping over his lifeless body, the Lieutenant and Fowler sprang into the gloomy cavern, killing several Zulus with their first shots. A number of subterranean passages opened out from the entrance, and through these the majority of the cave’s occupants escaped to a chasm below. Here they found themselves exposed to the fire of the two marksmen above, and in quick time retreated down the hill.

Their mission accomplished, Lysons and Fowler returned to their comrades to be congratulated on their success and recommended for the V.C., which was in due course bestowed upon them.

While these clearing operations were being performed, however, the Zulus had received large reinforcements, and Colonel Buller saw that he was in danger of being trapped on the mountain top. So he ordered his force to return down the hillside to rejoin the main body.

But for their colonel’s exertions and noble disregard of self, the retreat might soon have become a rout. As the soldiers fell back, the Zulus swarmed up and over the top of the mountain and threw themselves desperately upon the handful of white men in the endeavour to cut them off. Many deeds of valour were now performed, Buller himself saving no fewer than six lives, among those he rescued being Captain D’Arcy of the Frontier Light Horse, Lieutenant Everitt, and a trooper of the same company. For each of these three the brave colonel had to ride back towards the advancing Zulus, and, while assegais and shots sped past him, carry off the dismounted man upon his horse.

Redvers Buller is “Sir Henry” now, a General and a G.C.B. among other distinctions, but I think he is prouder of none of his honours more than the bronze Maltese Cross which he wears on his breast for his bravery that day at Inhlobane Mountain. And seldom, indeed, has the V.C. been better deserved.

At the same time Lieutenant E. S. Browne (a South Wales Borderer) and Major William Leet, of the Somersets, gained the decoration for acts of heroism of a similar nature, Browne having two lives placed to his credit.

The seventh of the Zulu Crosses which I have space to note in this chapter was awarded to that truly gallant soldier the late Lord William de la Poer Beresford. Wherever there was fighting going on Beresford of the 9th Lancers was bound to be in it. Only eight months previously, during the Afghan campaign, he had joined Sir Samuel Browne (another V.C. hero) in the famous march through the Khyber Pass, having obtained a month’s leave from the Viceroy, on whose staff he served as aide-de-camp.

How he won his Cross in Zululand was characteristic of Lord William’s impetuous courage. With a scouting party he had ventured across the White Umvolosi River to discover what the enemy’s movements were in the neighbourhood of Ulundi. They made their way safely for some distance through the long grass when suddenly a number of Zulus, who had been lying in ambush, sprang to their feet and poured a deadly volley into the party.

Two of the troopers were killed instantly, but a third man who fell (Sergeant Fitzmaurice) was seen to raise himself up from the ground where he lay by the side of his dead horse. Of the retreating scouts Lord William Beresford was the nearest to the Zulus, and without a moment’s hesitation he turned his horse and galloped back to the fallen man.

The story goes--and there is no reason whatever to disbelieve it--that Beresford flung himself from his horse and bade Fitzmaurice mount. The sergeant refused to do so, telling his would-be rescuer to save himself. Then the plucky Irishman seized Fitzmaurice by the shoulder and swore that he would punch the other’s head if he didn’t do as he was told; whereupon with some difficulty the sergeant was hoisted up into the saddle, Beresford mounting after him.

During the altercation the Zulus had come within a few yards of the couple, and Beresford’s horse only just managed to get away in time. Even as it was, it is possible that they would both have been assegaied had not Sergeant O’Toole, another Irishman, ridden out towards them and with his revolver checked the Zulus’ rush.

When Lord William heard that the V.C. was to be awarded him for that exploit he asked whether the sergeant had been recommended for the distinction, and on learning that this was not the case refused to accept the honour unless it was also given to the other. This made due impression at headquarters, and soon after O’Toole’s name appeared in the _Gazette_ together with that of Beresford.

Lord William met with a sad end to his career. As may be remembered, he died in 1900 from the effects of an accident received in the hunting-field.

* * * * *

With the V.C.’s won in Zululand I may well couple those which were gained in the brief Basuto rebellion of 1879. The Basutos, an offshoot of the Bechuanas and a very warlike race, believed themselves to be threatened with a British invasion from Natal, and took up arms. A punitive force from the colony had therefore to restore them to order.

One or two encounters with the rebels taught the latter a severe lesson, but retreating to the hills they made a determined stand upon a mountain called after their chief, Moirosi. This stronghold the Basutos made almost impregnable by a long series of stockades on the one side of the mountain that was accessible. On the other three sides it was perfectly perpendicular.

After several vain attempts this stronghold was successfully stormed, Moirosi himself being shot and large numbers of Basutos captured. What a terrible task the Colonials had in fighting their way up the steep slope will be understood when I say that the troops had to storm some twelve or fourteen of the high stone walls, or stockades, which the Basutos had erected, the walls being loopholed for rifles.

In the ascent Trooper P. Brown and Sergeant Robert Scott, both of the Cape Mounted Rifles, did deeds of daring which singled them out from their comrades for distinction. The former left his cover under a most heavy fire to carry his water bottle to some wounded men who were crying piteously for water. He was wounded twice as he was in the act of stooping over the sufferers, one of the enemy’s bullets shattering his right arm and rendering it permanently useless.

Sergeant Scott was a no less brave man, though his exploit was of a different kind. At one barricade that the troops reached the fire was so merciless that it seemed impossible to advance against it. But the sergeant thought of a way out of the difficulty. The enemy must be dislodged from their position by fuse shells. Volunteering for the dangerous work, he took some shells and ran swiftly towards the barricade. As has happened often before when one desperate man takes his life thus in his hands and braves a hundred, he escaped being hit. Then, crouching under the wall, he tried to throw a shell over into the midst of the Basutos.

The first attempt failed, but the second succeeded. Taking a third shell, he flung this after the others, but owing to some faulty adjustment of the fuse it burst almost immediately after leaving his hands. The explosion was terrible. One hand of the sergeant--his right one--was completely shattered, and he received a severe wound in his right leg. Fortunately for his comrades, he had ordered his party to retire under cover, a precaution which undoubtedly saved many lives.

The sergeant’s daring feat enabled the troops to drive the Basutos from the position without much further difficulty, and when he recovered from his wounds the V.C. was awarded him.

With Scott and Trooper Brown must be bracketed a third V.C. hero of that attack on Moirosi’s Mountain--brave Surgeon-Major Edmund Baron Hartley, of the same corps. His Cross was won for particular gallantry in tending the wounded under fire, and in going out in the open to bring in Corporal Jones, who, poor fellow, was lying badly hit only a few yards from the Basutos’ stockade. Surgeon Hartley worthily upholds the traditions of that noble brotherhood we have already seen doing their duty in the Crimea, in India, and elsewhere. All honour to the brave Army doctors!