Rupert stood ready to rush down to the boat, should it be necessary to save his life; for, brave as he was, he knew that it would be wrong to run any risk of throwing it needlessly away. He calculated that there were twenty or thirty Zulus approaching, running at their utmost speed; but the ground was rough in the extreme, and in many places their progress was impeded by thorny bushes, through which they could not force their way. Though they were coming on at a fearfully rapid rate, the horsemen were moving still faster. Another shot was fired from the fort. This Rupert took to be a signal that some more Zulus were crossing the river lower down. If they made good speed, they might cut off his men stationed on the western bank. He became doubly anxious, therefore, for the arrival of his father. He could now distinguish him clearly, as he could also Lionel and Vermack and the trusty Matyana. The Zulus would, he hoped, after all be disappointed. Standing on the highest part of the bank, he waved his hat and then bounded down to the boat, which Captain Broderick and his companions could not see, to show them that she was there, ready to carry them across. The only fear was that one of their horses might fall, for it was evident by the way they kept their whips moving that they were hard pressed. On they came, surrounded by a cloud of dust, as they passed over a sandy tract.
“They’ll do it! they’ll do it!” cried Rupert. “Stand by, Crawford, to shove off the moment we get into the boat. I’m half inclined to send a shot among those Zulus. I should knock over one of them if they come much nearer.”
Crawford stood holding the oar ready, and watching his companion. Presently he saw Rupert springing down the bank; directly afterwards Captain Broderick and Lionel’s heads appeared above it, followed by those of the Dutchman and the Kaffir.
The first two threw themselves from their horses. “Well done, my dear boy! well done!” exclaimed Captain Broderick. “We will drive our horses into the water, and they will swim after the boat.”
The Dutchman and Kaffir, however, disdaining this mode of crossing, kept their saddles, urging on the other two steeds, while the Captain and Lionel took their seats in the boat. There was no time to ask questions or give answers. Rupert could only say, as he gave a gripe of the hand to Lionel, “I am sure that you must be my brother Walter. I am delighted to see you. Now, Crawford, shove off.”
Rupert, as he spoke, grasped his oar, and he and Crawford strained every nerve to urge the boat through the water. Scarcely had they got half-way across when a body of Zulus appeared on the top of the bank, and began to hurl their assegais at them; but the moment they did so a volley from the west bank poured in among them, making them rapidly spring back, for every shot had told, and they probably expected a much larger dose to follow. Captain Broderick and Lionel, having unslung their rifles, also opened fire on the enemy. This gave the men time to reload, as also to enable Vermack and the Kaffir to get out of the reach of the assegais, they and the horses having fortunately escaped the first shower.
“What! did you expect the farm to be attacked?” asked Captain Broderick, looking up at the walls. “How did you manage to collect so large a body of defenders?”
“We originated them, sir,” answered Crawford. “You’ll see who they are as we get nearer.” He could not manage to say more, exerting himself as he was at the moment, nor did Captain Broderick ask further questions.
Landing, they drew up the boat, for they had no time to carry her to the harbour under the walls. They immediately joined the men, and as the Zulus again appeared on the bank, drove them back, enabling Vermack and Matyana to get to land with the horses.
The moment they had fired the volley another shot from the fort summoned Rupert to look down the stream, where he caught sight, though still, however, at some distance, of another body of the enemy who were coming up on the western bank.