As Majuba Day was coming near the messages brought by the runners became more hopeful: “All going well,” “Cronje is surrounded.”
But time after time came the news of Buller’s failure on the Tugela, and with every piece of ill news came reduced rations at Ladysmith. The artillery horses were nearly all eaten, the cavalry horses too; those that remained were too weak even to raise a trot. Would Buller ever cut his way through? The garrison were beginning to despond. If they had to fight a fierce battle again like that at Cæsar’s Camp a few weeks ago, when the pick of the Boer forces tried to take it by storm, would they not reel and faint for very want of food? Then, when all looked dark, and the far-off sound of Buller’s guns seemed to be dying away in another failure, something happened.
Men on outpost duty upon the hills round Ladysmith saw what seemed to them to be a long white snake crawling over the veldt. Officers seized their glasses, and started with an ejaculation of surprise, for what they saw was a long sinuous line of white-tilted waggons. “It’s the Boers coming away from the Tugela! By Jove! it’s a great trek!” Yes, the enemy were in full retreat at last; Buller had hammered them in so many places, and now at last he had succeeded.
There they came, waggon after waggon, in endless succession, as it seemed. Verily, it was a retreat of an army, for there were thousands of horsemen too, riding at a hand gallop, singly or in clusters, a continuous stream of moving figures coming round the corner of End Hill and then riding north behind Telegraph Hill. They were seeking their railway base.
But, though they rode fast in retreat, there was no confusion; the Boers know how to trek, and they do it well.
Oh! that we had had some horses, good strong horses, to gallop our guns in their direction. But the horses were all either eaten or too weak to trot. Those who looked to Bulwana Hill saw a strange black tripod being erected above the big Boer gun: they were going to take the gun away. The gunners of the Powerful saw the tripod too. They set to work to try and prevent that work from being accomplished; both the 4·7’s were in action, and made the red earth fly near the Boer redoubt.
The third shell burst upon the summit of the hill. The many clusters of men who were watching waited breathlessly for the white smoke to clear away, and when it cleared there was no tripod to be seen! Then an exultant shout rose up from hill-side and from spruit; some in their excitement danced and sang and shook hands and laughed. They were weak for want of food, and had not the usual English restraint. Then a great hailstorm came drifting by, and there was a rush into the town to tell the glad news.
What a Babel of talk there was at dinner that evening! Why, some officers were so hopeful now that they ventured to predict that by to-morrow some of Buller’s men would be in Ladysmith.
The dinner of horse-flesh was progressing merrily when all at once a strange clattering of shoes outside awoke attention. They listened in the mess-room, and heard eager voices, cries of men and boys as they hurried past. One went to the window and shouted: “What’s the row?”
“Buller’s troopers are in sight; they have been seen riding across the flats!”