Probably he would have felt differently had Sir John Manvers headed the enemy, and Lyle, in that case, would have urged a death-blow without hesitation.
Steadily, although the ground was more broken at every step, the British infantry pursued their march; slowly after them moved the cavalry and guns.
“See,” exclaimed Madame Vander Roey, who no longer needed a telescope, “they march still, but there is some stir among them. The tall man on the skimmel (sorrel) horse is flying backwards and forwards from the ranks to the General, from the General to the ranks, and now he gallops to the rear with orders; the artillery halt again, and the skimmel rider dashes back in spite of stones and stunted bush.”
The troops suddenly halted, their bayonets glittered in the morning sun as they changed their position, and they paused for an instant within gun-range of both ridges.
This was the moment Vander Roey had anticipated; piles of loose stones still lay between the two divisions of the British forces; the ground was scarcely practicable for cavalry or artillery. At this juncture the rebel chief turned to the rugged valley in the rear, and lifting his hat from his feet, waved it three times. Five hundred rebels started up from among the reeds and rushes of the river, from behind the great stones, and from the natural caverns at the base of the hills. In rear of the left battery sprung up a hundred others. The summit of each ridge was carefully manned with the deserters, some from the artillery, some from the line, all armed with roers; and mingled with these were many traders and wandering thieves.
Sir Adrian’s consultation with the old soldiers of the Ninety —th had caused him first to pause, and next to alter his movement. These experienced fellows had detected first the muzzle of Gray’s six-pounder, next a Boer’s hat, which, albeit nearly the colour of the stone near which the head leaned, was easily discerned by accustomed eyes. These two indications were quite sufficient to point out the real position of the rebels, and Sir Adrian changed his route accordingly.
“Sit there till I come for you,” said Vander Roey to his wife, taking her by the arm, and placing her in a hollow some feet below the rampart, with a gun above her; he leaned over her, placed his hand on her shoulder, looked sorrowfully into her face, and uttering in a tender tone the words “Poor wife, poor wife!” dashed down the hill, sprung on his horse at the foot of the ridge, and galloped to the front of the rebel band.
Some of the Boers, like Vander Roey, were mounted, but many were on foot. The latter were speedily and silently formed into parties commanded by the horsemen. Each division was still screened by the ridge, and Vander Roey’s plan was to rush out upon the enemy when he should have begun to mount the acclivity. The larger division of the British troops remained halted, and it was plain that Sir Adrian had no idea of the strength of the rebel forces.
But the General learned his mistake soon enough. Scarcely had the infantry advanced many paces up the steep and rugged hills, ere, with a shout of defiance, the rebel Dutch dashed out from their ambush. The road between the ridges was narrow. Horse and foot made a simultaneous charge, and pouring the fire from their long roers right and left with unerring aim, laid many a gallant fellow low.
Staggered at the unexpected appearance of five hundred men in a body, uncertain too of the numbers concealed behind the formidable rampart above, the infantry drew back. Sir Adrian galloped forward, a bullet took the peak from his forage-cap, he met the retiring infantry: he saw the madness of attempting to charge on such ground, and gave orders to retreat beyond gun-range till the artillery should come up, and be put in position.