History of the Zulu war and its origin

by Frances Ellen Colenso

About 7 A.M., a large body of the enemy appeared on the hills to the south-west, and Lieutenant Chard sent off a note to Helpmakaar asking for assistance. About 8 A.M., No. 3 Column appeared in sight, the enemy falling back on its approach. Thus ended a most gallant defence, reflecting the utmost credit on all concerned.

The loss of the garrison was 15 non-commissioned officers and men killed, and 12 wounded (of whom two died almost immediately). The attacking force was estimated at 3000 men, of whom upwards of 350 were killed.

Lord Chelmsford, with the remains of No. 3 Column, had moved off from Isandhlwana, as we have already described, at daybreak that morning. It had been thought necessary to insist upon absolute inaction through the night; no attempt was allowed at identifying the dead, or even at making sure that no life remained in the camp; and men lay down to rest, ignorant whether a careless hand might not fall on the lifeless form of a dead comrade or, mayhap, a brother. The remainder of the Natal Carbineers, as they afterwards discovered, bivouacked that night on the right of the camp, upon the very “neck” of land where so gallant a stand was made; their captain recognising the body of Lieutenant Scott, and therefore being able afterwards to identify the spot. That life might exist without its being known to the returning column is proved by the fact that a native groom lay for dead, although unwounded, in the camp throughout the night. The man had feigned death when the camp was taken, and did not dare to move on the return of the General’s party, lest he should be taken by them for a Zulu, and should share the fate of the few actual Zulus found intoxicated beneath the waggons, and bayoneted by our soldiers. He crept out in the morning, and followed the retreating column to Rorke’s Drift at a distance, meeting on the way with narrow escapes of losing his life from both friend and foe.

On coming within sight of Rorke’s Drift, heavy smoke was seen rising from it, and Zulus retiring; this caused the liveliest apprehensions for the safety of the post. However, to the intense relief of all, on nearing the Buffalo River the waving of hats was seen from a hastily-erected entrenchment, and the safety of the little garrison was known.

Lieut.-Colonel Russell was sent with a mounted escort to Helpmakaar, to see if the road was open and all safe there; but some officers of Major Bengough’s battalion Natal Native Contingent rode in and reported the road open, Helpmakaar laagered, and no attack made on it. Some men of the Buffalo Border Guard also rode in from Fort Pine and reported all well there.

The General and staff hurried down to Pietermaritzburg viâ Helpmakaar, while the garrison at Rorke’s Drift was left in utter confusion,[147] as testified by many of those present at the time. No one appeared responsible for anything that might happen, and the result was one disgraceful to our English name, and to all concerned. A few Zulu prisoners had been taken by our troops—some the day before, others previous to the disaster at Isandhlwana, and these prisoners were put to death in cold blood at Rorke’s Drift. It was intended to set them free, and they were told to run for their lives, but they were shot down and killed, within sight and sound of the whole force. An eye-witness—an officer—described the affair to the present writer, saying that the men whom he saw killed numbered “not more than seven, nor less than five.” He said that he was standing with others in the camp, and hearing shots close behind him, he turned, and saw the prisoners in question in the act of falling beneath the shots and stabs of a party of our men.[148] The latter, indeed, were men belonging to the Native Contingent, but they were supposed to be under white control, and should not have been able to obtain possession of the prisoners under any circumstances. Scenes like these were not likely to impress the savages with whom we were dealing with our merciful and Christian qualities, nor to improve the chances of European prisoners who might fall into their hands during the campaign.

As soon as order was a little restored, the cover round the post of Rorke’s Drift was cleared away, barricades built, the thatched roof taken off the house, and the four guns placed in position within the enclosure.

The General and staff reached Pietermaritzburg early on January 26th. There, as everywhere else, panic reigned, and gloom spread over all. From the city especially many a son and brother had gone out to fall upon that fatal day, and grief was mingled there with terror for what might come next. It was long before any accurate information could be gained as to what had happened, and who had fallen; and, owing to the hurried retreat of No. 3 Column from Isandhlwana before daybreak on the 23rd, the great burden of uncertainty was laid upon many heavy hearts both upon the spot and at home in England.

At first all who had had friends at the camp hoped they might be amongst the saved, since it was known that some had escaped by “The Fugitives’ Drift,” a spot some five miles from Rorke’s Drift, where those flying from Isandhlwana crossed the river; and day by day the lists of killed and missing appeared with the names gradually removed from the latter to the former. Well had an hour’s daylight been spent that morning to spare the uncertainty that hung over many an English and South African home for days and weeks, and even months.