Chapter Eleven.
Mr Bilderjik rode up to his brother pastor’s abode, by whom he and his young friends were very kindly received, and they were all invited to enter his parlour; where, considerably to George’s surprise, he encountered his old companions on board the Zulu Queen, the two Vander Heydens, and Mynheer Moritz. Annchen came forward with a smile and a blush to welcome George and Redgy, and Moritz was extremely cordial in his greetings. Vander Heyden also, though somewhat stiffer in his demeanour, saluted them with courtesy, expressing his satisfaction at meeting them again. He explained what, however, the young men had already been informed of, his intention to join as a volunteer the force which was to be sent for the purpose of putting down Cetewayo’s lawless rule. “It is not only,” he said, “that I have the barbarous murder of a near relative to avenge, but I feel that there will be neither law nor justice in this land until his power is destroyed. I do not know what brings you here, Mr Rivers; but I should be glad to think that our aims and intentions are the same.”
“That is so,” said George cordially. “I am persuaded that, whatever may have been said of former wars which England may have waged with this country, the one she has now undertaken is the cause of justice and right. I am glad to think we shall be fellow-campaigners in it. I suppose there is no doubt that they will accept our services.”
“None indeed,” answered Vander Heyden. “You may assure yourself of that. There will be few recruits that they will welcome more readily.”
Vander Heyden’s words proved true. George and Redgy were admitted without any demur, as was also Hardy, who arrived two or three days afterwards. He was a more valuable recruit than any of the party, having served many years in various campaigns under Havelock, Napier, and Wolseley. His advice and help were most serviceable to George and Redgy, and a close intimacy soon sprang up between the three. Their example proved catching. About a fortnight after their arrival at Rorke’s Drift, the three young Baylens and Matamo made their appearance, having persuaded their father, after many entreaties, to allow them to enter the same company as their friends, in the Mounted Volunteers. George was surprised to see them, for the Baylens had been gone more than a week. A message had been sent to the President of the Orange Free State, and it was thought necessary, in the disturbed state of the country, that the messenger should have a military escort. As they would pass very near Horner’s Kraal, Farmer Baylen had obtained permission to accompany it. But it now appeared that, as soon as they reached home, the young men had made such urgent representations, as to wring from their father a reluctant consent. He had insisted, however, that Matamo should accompany them, upon whom he laid both his commands and entreaties to keep a careful watch on his sons.
The eight friends, for so they soon became, found the time pass pleasantly enough, while the preparations for the campaign were going on. There was the morning drill and parade, the mess-table, at which the six English and the two Dutchmen sat next each other, and there were sword-exercises, and practices with the rifle, which filled up the time, so as to allow of little leisure. In the evening they would commonly adjourn to a neighbouring seat under the trees, where they beguiled the time with narratives of past adventures, and speculations as to the approaching struggle. Hardy was a particularly pleasant companion. His anecdotes of the Indian Mutiny, the Abyssinian and Ashantee expeditions, had a great interest for young soldiers who had never yet encountered the enemy. He told them of the relief of Lucknow, and how he had stood by the terrible Well of Cawnpore; how he had accompanied Sir Garnet Wolseley in his march to Coomassie; and how he had witnessed the final discomfiture of King Theodore. He regarded the Sepoys, he told them, as more dangerous enemies, than either the Abyssinians or the Ashantees. But none of them could, for a moment, compare with the Zulus. It was not merely the brute courage of these last-named savages that rendered them so formidable, for almost all barbarous nations are indifferent to danger. It was their discipline, their devotion to their king’s commands, and their contempt for Europeans, that made them so formidable. They could not be cowed or terrified. Nothing but downright hard blows would quell them; and they would endure an amazing amount of hard blows, before they would knock under.
“Were you ever in very great danger during the Ashantee campaign?” asked Redgy, at one of these evening séances.
“Not more than any one must encounter, who goes on a campaign, I believe,” answered Hardy. “No; the greatest danger I was ever in, I think, was during the Abyssinian war, and the danger did not come from a man, but an elephant.”
“Tell us about it, Hardy,” said Walter Baylen. “I did not know King Theodore used elephants in his army.”
“No, it was not in battle, it was during the march,” was the rejoinder. “Ours was the advanced guard of the army, and we had entered Abyssinia, and were passing through a very wild country, partly covered with long grass, partly with dense forest, when suddenly an enormous elephant rushed out of the bush upon us. He was the biggest elephant I ever saw. I don’t think he could have stood less than some inches over eleven feet.”