It looked as if Sir Redvers and his staff officer were going to have an easy time and run straight into Ulundi. This was very exhilarating, and they galloped on close behind the Zulu Chief, who was evidently in command of the fugitives, and possibly from design in their rear. He was a huge, powerful man and a veteran, which was proved by the ring round his head. Suddenly he turned round on the advancing scouts. Lord William being well in advance of the rest, leading his men, could plainly see the Chief marking his distance preparing to use his assegai, and it came. But his opponent was ready, and too quick for him, so dashing aside the assegai, he galloped with his sword up, the point fixed and rigid. The Zulu waited with his shield up. He did not wait long, the impetus given by the pace his horse was galloping carried Lord William’s sword right through the shield and half through the man’s body, entering his heart. He dropped dead, and the assegai was sent home to Curraghmore, where it decorated the corner of Lady Waterford’s drawing-room.
I think we may take it the flight of the Zulus was only to lead our men on, and get them into a tight corner, for suddenly several thousand Zulus appeared out of the long grass which had entirely hidden a deep water-course in which they had been waiting. It therefore became necessary to retreat, and Sir Redvers Buller gave the order to fire a volley and then retire. Lord William and his scouts rode back, followed by many bullets. Two men were killed, and a third wounded, his horse getting away.
Always the first to lead the way into any danger zone, so likewise Lord Bill was the last to leave it. He had been taken by surprise, but was in no way flustered, and with that thought for others for which he was so remarkable, turned for a moment in his saddle, though hotly pressed by the enemy, to make sure all his living men were away and safe; he then discovered the wounded man whose horse had run away, lying helpless and dazed on the ground, but trying to rise. He was a non-commissioned officer, Fitzmaurice by name, and at the mercy of the advancing hordes of savages who were perilously near. Quick as thought Lord William turned his Irish charger and galloped back, threw himself out of the saddle and tried to put Fitzmaurice up on to his horse, but the wounded man was as splendid as his preserver. Realising the delay only meant both being killed—one might possibly escape, but two? It seemed impossible—the Zulus were close on them, so he shook his head feebly, saying, “No,” begging Lord William to leave him and save himself.
Of course Lord Bill would have none of this, and, swearing mighty swear words, yelled at the man, “Come along, you b—— f——” (meaning I suppose “beloved friend”). “If you don’t I’ll punch your b—— (beloved!) head for you.” How characteristic of Lord William. Those who knew him well will be able to picture the fierce way he would say it. Seeing Fitzmaurice was weak from loss of blood and unequal to any exertion, Lord William, though sadly impeded by the arm hurt in the previous private fight, with some difficulty lifted and shoved the man on to his horse, no easy matter on a highly-strung impetuous animal, but it was accomplished, and, hurriedly mounting behind him, galloped for life, but with little hope of escaping, the Zulus following closely. What desperately anxious moments! made doubly so by the wounded man being unable to keep his balance from weakness and loss of blood, twice his weight nearly pulled Lord William out of the saddle, and he felt all was over. Just when beginning to fear he could not support Fitzmaurice any longer, help came in the shape of Sergeant O’Toole, who had seen their danger and rode out in hot haste to the rescue, shooting Zulu after Zulu with his revolver as they came within measurable distance. He then assisted Lord William with his now helpless burden.
It is interesting to note that both those brave men, Lord William Beresford and Fitzmaurice, were Irishmen, O’Toole, who came to the rescue, was Irish, and the horse which bore them into safety was Irish, each so splendid in their several parts; Lord William risking his life to save his countryman, he in his turn refusing to jeopardise his officer’s life, then the plucky Irish horse straining every nerve in response to his master’s bidding, though carrying a double burden of swaying riders. Again, the Irishman that grasped the situation, and without waiting for any word of command, lost not a moment in riding to their rescue, no precious time being lost in wondering what had happened, and if there had been a disaster. Truly a quartet of distinction.
It was hard to tell when they arrived at last in safety who was the sufferer, for all were bathed in gore. Mr. Archibald Forbes, the clever newspaper correspondent, tells the story of how on the afternoon of the same day, hearing Lord William was to be recommended for a V.C., he hurried to his tent to tell him the news, and congratulate him; finding his lordship fast asleep, the sleep of exhaustion, he debated in his mind whether to awake him to hear the good news or let him sleep on and recuperate; deciding on the former, only to be rewarded by having a boot thrown at his head and being told to go to h—— (heaven, I suppose).
Later on, hearing he really was to be recommended for the Cross for Valour, he remarked it would be no pleasure to him unless O’Toole received one also. I wonder how many men there are who would have thought of that? No doubt O’Toole’s promptness had a good deal to do with the ultimate safety of the party, but it was due to Lord Bill’s courage and kindness of heart that the episode occurred, and to him, assuredly, the greater glory.
In a letter written at this time by Lord William to Lady Lytton he says, speaking of his experiences, “They were indeed two days worth living for, and never to be forgotten. I was lucky in the day’s reconnaissance inasmuch that I helped to save a poor man’s life, whose horse fell with him, about 200 yards from 3000 Zulus. He was half stunned and bleeding a good deal. I galloped back to him and with difficulty got him on to my horse (even more exciting than the gymkhana races two on one pony). The Zulus had come to within 50 yards of us when I managed to start off at a gallop with him, never thinking that the pair of us would get out alive, but we did.”
It will be remembered that it was during this savage war that Prince Louis Napoleon lost his life.
When Lord Bill, or “Fighting Bill” as he was now called, returned to India, many people hardly knew him he was so altered in appearance, owing to his having grown a beard. It certainly entirely changed his face, and his friends were glad when he turned up one morning “in his right mind” as somebody expressed it, or, in other words, shaved, and as he was before he wasn’t.