After the day of slaughter at Arogee, Sir Robert Napier hesitated. The safety of the captives was ever in his mind. Upon his forbearance depended their lives, and the signal success of the campaign. A perceptible movement upon Magdala might have deprived the desperate Theodore of every ray of hope, and have caused him to order the immediate slaughter of the captives. And so Sir Robert Napier decided to ask Theodore to surrender. His messengers were actually on their way to the Emperor with a peremptory demand to this effect when they met two strangers, who turned out to belong to the band of captives. The whole party thereupon returned to the British camp. On arrival, one of the captives who had been sent as a messenger by Theodore spoke to Sir Robert.
“I have been sent down to you, Sir Robert, by the Emperor, to ask why it is you have come to this country, what it is you want, and whether you will return to your own country if the captives are released?”
Sir Robert’s reply, which he asked the two messengers to convey to Theodore, was explicit in the extreme. “Tell him from me,” said Sir Robert, “that I require an instant surrender of the prisoners, with their property, of himself, with the fortresses of Selasse and Fahla, Magdala and all therein. He may rest assured that honourable treatment will be accorded him.”
The captives fulfilled their mission. Theodore was furious, and again he sent them down to the British General with a petition for better terms, “as he was a king, and could not surrender himself to any chief who served a woman. Rather than surrender,” he added, “I will fight to the death. Can you not be satisfied with the possession of those you came for, and leave me alone in peace?”
They were sent back by Napier with the message:—“You must surrender yourself unconditionally to the Queen of Britain. Be assured that honourable treatment will be accorded you.”
It was then that Rassam, another of the captives, did a very diplomatic thing. He asked the king to repose his trust in him, let the captives go free to the camp, and he guaranteed that the British chief would return to his own country. The king believed in Rassam. He trusted to his influence to reconcile him with the commander-in-chief, and gave him orders to assemble immediately all the European captives, with their property, at the Thafurbate gate of the fortress.
The parting scene was a strange one. Theodore addressed each and all of the captives in an affectionate manner, wishing some of them well, and asking others to forgive him for what he had done to them. As soon as news of their release reached the army, the soldiers hurried to headquarters by hundreds to await their arrival, and eager crowds greeted them. Sixty-one in number, they looked to be in good condition, and were objects of great interest to all.
On Easter Sunday 1000 beeves and 500 sheep were sent by Theodore to Sir Robert Napier, with the hope that the British soldiers would eat their fill and be merry. But Sir Robert was not to be caught napping. He sent an officer up to Magdala to say that he couldn’t think of accepting anything from his majesty until himself, his family, and his fortresses were surrendered to the Queen of Britain.
Meanwhile, preparations had been proceeding for taking Magdala by storm. Escalading ladders were made out of dhoolie poles; powder charges, hand grenades, etc. were also made ready for use. The elephants brought up the Armstrong battery to the camp, and, in short, everything was ready for a grand assault, which was expected to take place at noon the following day.
On the morning of Easter Monday, April 13, 1868, there arrived at the British camp eight Abyssinians, richly apparelled. One look sufficed to show that they were chiefs of high degree. Ushered into the presence of the commander-in-chief they stated that they came down to offer Fahla and Selasse on condition that they were allowed to depart unmolested. Their conditions were promptly accepted. They were then questioned as to the whereabouts of Theodore. Their answer was a profound surprise to the British general. They said they expected that the king had either gone to Gojam or to the camp of the Galla Queen Mastevat. Who would have dreamt that the king would have left his fortress? Still, the fact was apparently indisputable, and Napier promptly adopted means for the capture of the missing monarch.
He at once offered a reward of 50,000 dollars for Theodore, dead or alive, and messengers with this announcement were at once despatched to all the neighbouring camps. Next Sir Robert resolved to occupy Fahla and Selasse, and to move upon Magdala. Regiments in columns of fours proceeded to Fahla Plain. First came the Duke of Wellington’s Own—a regiment destined to play an important part in the forthcoming last act of the Abyssinian campaign. The road was steep and difficult to negotiate, but the troops, in toiling on, passed enormous boulders until they found themselves full under the noonday sun, on the crest of the gorge between Fahla and Selasse.
On arrival at the heights, six companies of the 33rd Foot advanced with bayonets fixed, driving the natives before them out of the fortress. The chiefs were assured that their people would not be harmed, but that they must leave at once for the plain. As the natives emerged from the pass they were disarmed. When they reached the terraced ridge, where the army was halted, they drew back in fear, but they were soon reassured. Men, women and children were eager to greet the soldiers, for the chiefs had assured them that these were their best friends.
While this strange scene was being witnessed, Colonel Loch and Captain Speedy were manœuvring at the extremity of Selasse, on the road which encircled the fortress and thence led to Magdala. Looking up to the heights the British officers saw a number of men careering about on the plateau which connected Selasse with Magdala. It was ascertained that they belonged to the enemy, and their dress indicated that they were chiefs. When these men saw the cavalry advancing round the corner at Selasse they retired slowly and in good order to Magdala, firing as they went.
As the British proceeded, the officers soon discovered the meaning of the presence of the Abyssinians. They had been attempting to secure a number of cannon and mortars lying at the Selasse end of the plateau. The cannon were at once seized by our men, and were found to be mostly of French and British manufacture.
After retiring as far as the foot of Magdala, a few of the Abyssinians made a pretence of preparing to charge, but apparently hesitated. Along the brow of the famous fortress many dark heads could be seen, and now and then shots awoke the echoes. Suddenly the Abyssinians who were first noticed made a dash towards Captain Speedy and the artillery, which accompanied him. After coming within three hundred yards the natives halted, and judge of the surprise of the British officers when they discovered that the foremost among the company of horsemen was no other than Theodore, king of Abyssinia!
Such a discovery was of course highly satisfactory to the British, who had been somewhat downcast at the report of the king’s escape.
As showing the reckless courage of the king, it is said that his words of greeting to the British were, “Come on! Are ye women, that ye hesitate to attack a few warriors?”
As Theodore and his followers showed a disposition to advance, some soldiers of the 33rd were ordered to take up a position commanding all paths leading to the valleys on all sides of the plateau. A company of the 33rd, who had eagerlyascended Selasse for the purpose of planting their colours on its rampart, were also invited to aid in the defence of the captured artillery.
A few shells were now sent whizzing amongst the Abyssinians, who had by this time commenced a desultory firing. Very soon, growing alarmed at the work of our artillery, the Abyssinians retired for shelter behind some wooden booths. A few more shells, however, soon dislodged Theodore and his men from their hiding places, and they beat a rapid retreat towards Magdala. Still they had not finished, and continued to fire at all who came within reach of their mountain stronghold. Their persistent firing ultimately lured a detachment of the 33rd Foot into action, but without marked effect, and shortly after this orders came from Sir Charles Staveley to cease firing. At the same time the British flag was hoisted above Selasse and Fahla. Only Magdala now remained.
Describing the stronghold, one of the correspondents present says:—“Suppose a platform of rock, oval in shape, and a mile and a half in length, and from a half to three-quarters of a mile in width, rising five hundred feet perpendicularly about a narrow plateau, which connected its northern end with Selasse. The rock was Magdala, the plateau Islamgee. On the western and southern sides Magdala towered above the valley of the Melkaschillo some two thousand feet. The eastern side rose in three terraces of about 600 feet in height, one above another. Its whole summit was covered with houses, straw-thatched, and of a conical shape. The extreme brow of the fortress was defended by a stone wall, on the top of which a hurdle revetment was planted. But the side fronting Islamgee was defended by a lower wall and revetment constructed nearly half way up the slope. In the centre of the revetment was a barbican, up to which led the only available road to the fortress.”
Fahla and Selasse having been left in the hands of sufficient garrisons, the remainder of the British troops were withdrawn to Islamgee, where they were halted behind the captured artillery. Sir Robert Napier had been at great pains to ascertain the strength of the fortress. One thing he had made sure of, that at only one point was it assailable, and that was the side which fronted the troops as they stood upon Islamgee.
Then Napier distributed his force in preparation for the attack. Soon twenty guns were thundering at the gates. Theodore could not misunderstand the meaning of the British now. It was surrender or death for him and his followers.
The bombardment lasted two hours. At the end of this period Napier had made up his mind that the defenders were weak, and that the British troops would suffer very little lossin the assault. He therefore ordered the Royal Engineers, the 33rd, the 45th, and the King’s Own to be prepared to carry on the attack. Already the fire from the fortress had ceased Soon signals for rapid firing were given to the British artillery, and under the furious cannonade which proceeded, the British troops began their march along the plateau.
Upon their arrival within fifty yards of the foot of Magdala, the order was given to the artillery to cease fire. Then the Engineers at once brought their sniders into play, and for ten minutes they and the 33rd and 45th rained a storm of leaden pellets upon the defenders.
Theodore and his brave followers had been concealed while the artillery was at work. Now, however, the king showed himself. Up he sprang, singing out his war-cry, and with his bodyguard he hastened to the gates, prepared to give the invaders a fitting welcome. He posted his men at the loopholes and along the wall, topped with wattled hurdles. Soon his signal was given, and heavy firing was directed upon the advancing soldiers, several of whom were wounded. Next the British fire was concentrated on the barbican, and the revetment, through the loopholes of which rays of smoke issuing forth betrayed the presence of the enemy. Slowly the soldiers advanced through the rain which accompanied the thunderstorm which now raged. For a minute there was a pause, and then again a dozen bullets hurtled through the advance guard of the troops, wounding Major Pritchard and several of the Engineers. Then Major Pritchard and Lieutenant Morgan made a dash upon the barbican. They found the gate closed, and the inside of the square completely blocked up with huge stones.
A drummer of the 33rd climbed up the cliff wall. Reaching a ledge, he ascended another, and shouted to his companions to “Come on!” as he had found a way. In a short time the intrepid soldiers had passed all the lower defences, and scattering themselves over the ground they made a rush for the other defence, 75 feet above them, passing over not a few ghastly reminders of the battle. There were obstacles in the way, but they could not stop the excited Irishmen. They leaped forward and fired volley after volley into the faces of the Abyssinians.
Nor must we forget the charge of Drummer Maguire and Private Bergin upon Magdala. It is related that the two men were advancing a few paces from each other to the upper revetment when they saw about a dozen of the enemy aiming at them. The doughty pair immediately opened fire, and so quick and well-directed was it that but few of their assailants escaped. Seeing a host of red-coats advancing upward, the others retreated precipitately. Over the upper revetment both men made their way, and at the same time they observed a manstanding near a grass stack with, a revolver in his hand. When he saw them prepare to fire, he ran behind it, and both men plainly heard the shot fired which followed. Advancing, they found him prostrate on the ground, in a dying state, the revolver clutched convulsively in his right hand. To their minds the revolver was but their proper loot, and, without any ceremony, they wrenched it from the grasp of the dying man. The silver plate on the stock, however, arrested their attention, and, on examining it, they deciphered the following inscription—“Presented by Victoria, Queen of Great Britain and Ireland, to Theodore, Emperor of Abyssinia, as a slight token of her gratitude for his kindness to her servant Plowden, 1854.”
The soldiers were in the presence of the Emperor, and he was dying. Soon the rest of the troops followed their leaders, and the British flag was straining from the post which crowned the summit of the Abyssinian stronghold. Then, while the sound of “God Save the Queen” rent the once more peaceful air, and the soldiers of the Queen joined lustily in the triumphant cheers, the once proud Emperor of Abyssinia, in all the gorgeous trappings of his state, and surrounded by a crowd of interested spectators, breathed his last in the stronghold where he had thought to give pause to those he regarded as the enemies of his kingdom.
Soon after “the Advance” was once more sounded, and the soldiers filed in column through the narrow streets, the commander-in-chief and staff following.
When the cost of the assault came to be reckoned, it was found that 17 British had been wounded, though none of them mortally. The Abyssinian dead were estimated at 60, with double that number of wounded.
On the fourth morning after the fall of Magdala, the Abyssinians, to the number of 30,000, commenced their march for Dalanta. Every living soul having left, the gates were blown up, and the houses set on fire. The flames soon did their work, and nothing escaped.
On the 18th April, 1868, the troops turned their faces northward for their homeward march, their object fully attained.
For years the Ashantees had been a source of trouble and annoyance to the British settlers on the Gold Coast, and the campaign of 1873-74 was by no means entered upon withoutconsiderable provocation from this barbarous and fanatical people.
With the march of time, Britain extended and strengthened her hold upon the settlement, and ultimately, pursuing this policy, brought out the Danes, and made exchanges with the Dutch there. These proceedings culminated in Britain becoming possessors of the whole of the territory formerly under Dutch protection. The taking over of the Dutch forts caused heart-burning among the Ashantees. Particularly was this the case with regard to Elimina, where, at the time the negotiations for the transfer were being considered, a number of Ashantee troops were lying.
King Koffee Kalkali, the ruler of the Ashantees, protested against the transfer, maintaining that the Dutch had no right to hand over the territory to Britain, as it belonged to him. Notwithstanding, the Dutch contrived to get rid of the truculent Koffee and his followers then stationed at Elimina.
Not only did the Ashantees resent the Anglo-Dutch agreement, but other tribes in several instances also took objection. This especially was the case as regarded the Fanties and Eliminas, who hated each other, and interchanged hostile acts, although by this time both were under one common protection.
The old hatred of Britain had been awakened. King Koffee assumed a dominant and aggressive spirit, and became bent on invasion. To some extent he was abetted by the Eliminas, who, in part at any rate, were disloyal to the whites. From these causes arose the campaign of ’73-’74 and the battles of Amoaful and Ordashu.
At the outbreak of hostilities the British force available to resist attack was ridiculously meagre, numbering, it is computed, not more than 600 men, scattered over several stations.
At home, the Government was slow to act, and not until repeated application had been made for white troops was the appeal given heed to.
That renowned soldier Sir Garnet Wolseley was commissioned to operate against the Ashantees. The announcement gave great satisfaction. If the spirit of the wild tribe was to be crushed, it was felt that Sir Garnet was the man to do it. But his task was no light one, and without white troops the issue was doubly doubtful.
His instructions, briefly, were to drive the Ashantees back over the Prah, then to follow and punish them until they should consent to be peaceful, should release their prisoners, and comply with terms necessary to our own interests and those of humanity.
The deadly nature of the coast, “the white man’s grave,” was doubtless a potent factor with the Government in that they did not immediately acquiesce with Sir Garnet’s requestfor white troops. But, as we know, the Government at last acceded, and the regiments selected for service in that disease-pregnated country have added lustre to their fame and also another page of glorious history to the story of the pluck and endurance of Britain’s soldiers. The total number of troops under the command of Sir Garnet Wolseley being made up of Colonel Wood’s native regiment of 400 men, Major Russell’s native regiment of 400, the 42nd Highlanders (Black Watch) 575 strong, the Rifle Brigade 650, 75 men of the 23rd Fusiliers, Royal Naval Brigade 225, 2nd West India Regiment 350, Royal Engineers 40, and Rait’s artillery 50.
About the end of October, 1873, Sir Garnet Wolseley began his forward march into the interior. There was fighting to be done ere long, for the enemy made an attempt to arrest the progress of the troops by besieging Abrakrampa, the chief town of the province of Abra, of which the native king was Britain’s staunch ally. A three days’ ineffectual leaguer ensued, during which the Ashantees lost heavily, while not so much as one white man was injured. With Sir Garnet close behind, the Ashantees thought it best to recross the Prah and retreat towards Coomassie.
Through the dense bush the troops marched in the garish and dazzling sunlight, and at the end of their daily tramp through the hostile country they were glad to lie down and rest in the huts provided for them. In the way of rations the men were well looked after by the commissariat department, the fare being as follows:—One and a half pounds of meat, salt or fresh, one pound of pressed meat, one and a quarter pounds of biscuits, four ounces of pressed vegetables, two ounces of rice or preserved peas, three ounces of sugar, three-quarters of an ounce of tea, half an ounce of salt, one-thirteenth of an ounce of pepper. With such substantial and varied feeding the hardships of the march were minimised and weakness was rare—another striking illustration of the truth of the maxim of the great Napoleon that “an army goes upon its belly.”
The further the British force progressed, denser and loftier grew the forest, although the Engineers with unflagging energy had cleared a pathway as far as the Prah. On the 15th December, 1873, Sir Garnet Wolseley was able to report “the first phase of the war had been brought to a satisfactory conclusion by a few companies of the 2nd West India regiment, Rait’s artillery, Gordon’s Houssas, and Wood’s and Russell’s regiments, admirably conducted by the British officers belonging to them, without the assistance of any other troops except the marines and blue-jackets who were upon the station on his arrival.”
Sir Garnet arrived at Prashu on the 2nd January, 1874,and was joyfully received by the assembled soldiers. Early in the same morning an Ashantee embassy was espied on the other side of the Prah. These ambassadors brought a letter from the truculent King Koffee, in which the wily savage had the audacity to point out that the attack upon him was unjustifiable.
The “Times” correspondent wrote that “many stories were afloat about the King of Ashantee’s proceedings. The following is a fair specimen, and illustrates well the extreme superstition of the Ashantees, showing by what influences Koffee is popularly supposed to be guided, and upon what councillors he is supposed to rely in the present crisis. Koffee, the story goes, recently summoned a great meeting of his fetish men, and sought their advice as to how he should act towards Britain, and whether he ought to seek for peace or stake his fortunes on the result of a war. The fetish men at first declined to give an answer, until they had been guaranteed that, no matter what their reply was, their lives should not be forfeited. Having been assured upon this point, they then replied that ‘they saw everything dark, except the streets of Coomassie, which ran with blood.’ King Koffee was dissatisfied with the vagueness of this reply, and determined to appeal still further to the oracle. He resorted to what he considered a final and conclusive test. Two he-goats were selected, one entirely black, the other of a spotless white colour, and, after due fetish ceremonies had been performed over the two goats, they were set at each other. The white goat easily overcame and killed his opponent. King Koffee, after this test, was satisfied that he was doomed to defeat at the hands of the white men.”
He immediately sent the embassies before referred to, to seek for peace, but the object which was of greatest importance to him was to avoid the humiliation of seeing his territory invaded by the whites. When, however, he found that all his conciliatory overtures were powerless to hinder the advance of the British, the national pride of the chiefs and the ardour of the fighting population was too strong to admit of any restraint. These causes, combined with the threatened humiliation of seeing his capital invaded by the British and his fetish supremacy destroyed, nerved him for one desperate effort.
For this final move Sir Garnet was prepared. In his notes for the use of his army the commander says:—
“Each soldier must remember that with his breechloader he is equal to at least twenty Ashantees, wretchedly armed, as they are, with old flint muskets, firing slugs or pieces of stone that do not hurt badly at more than forty or fifty yards range. Our enemies have neither guns nor rockets, and have a superstitious dread of those used by us.”
With these and similar heartening instructions, the coming fight was anticipated eagerly by our troops, the Fanties alone, who were employed as transport bearers, proving unreliable. These latter deserted in thousands, thus throwing extra work upon the white troops, many of the regiments having to carry their own baggage.
Information was received at the British headquarters on the 30th January, 1874, that a big battle was pending on the morrow. The natives were assembled in enormous strength, and were prepared to offer a stout resistance. On the eve of the fray the advance guard of the British force was at Quarman, a distance of not more than a couple of miles from Amoaful, one of the principal villages of the country. Between these two places lay the hamlet of Egginassie, and to this point Major Home’s Engineers were busily engaged preparing a way for the advancing force.
In front of Amoaful 20,000 of the natives had taken up a position. Of this fanatical horde there was not a man but would be ready to perpetrate the most wanton cruelty, and to whom butchery was but second nature. As usual, the Ashantees were armed with muskets that fired slugs. They held a position of considerable strength upon the slopes of the hill that led to Amoaful. The dense nature of the bush, high walls of foliage, through which our troops had to pass, made it difficult for the soldiers to fire with precision, or make rapid progress. The protection of not only our flanks, but also our rear, was a matter of special importance and anxiety, for in the enclosing screen of underwood it would be no difficult task for a stealthy and numerous foe to surround and decimate small detachments of the not over strong British force. But every precaution was taken to guard against surprise, and the British general had every confidence in each member of his force, officers and men alike.
The troops were early on the move, and with precision they filed into their allotted places. Led by Brigadier Sir Archibald Alison, the front column was comprised of the famous Black Watch, eighty men of the 23rd Fusiliers, Rait’s artillery, two small rifled guns manned by Houssas, and two rocket troughs, with a detachment of the Royal Engineers. The left column was under the command of Brigadier McLeod, of the Black Watch, and contained half of the blue-jackets, Russell’s native troops, two rocket troughs, and Royal Engineers. Lieutenant-Colonel Wood, V.C., of the Perthshire Light Infantry, had charge of the right column, which consisted of the remaining half of the naval brigade, seamen and marines, detachments of the Royal Engineers, and artillery, with rockets and a regiment of African levies. The rear column was made up of the secondbattalion of the Rifle Brigade, 580 strong, and the entire force was under the skilful command of Sir Garnet Wolseley.
The forces were disposed so as to form a large square. By this means Sir Garnet hoped to nullify the favourite flank tactics of the enemy, but to some extent the formation had to be broken on account of the entangling brushwood.
The battle of Amoaful was fought on the 31st January. Lord Gifford and his scouts were the first to get in touch with the enemy, and the desultory firing heard warned the leading column that the conflict was opening. The British forces met opposition about eight in the morning, and soon after the spirting of red musketry and the curl of white smoke were conspicuous in the dark, thick bush. So fierce was the onslaught that it is calculated that had the Ashantees used bullets instead of slugs scarcely a man of the Black Watch would have lived to tell the tale. Nine officers and about a hundred men of the regiment were rendered useless by the blinding fire of the Ashantees. The marshy nature of the ground impeded progress, and in the underwood the skulking natives fired incessantly at the advancing troops.
Under a heavy fire, the left column were struggling to oust the enemy. There, while urging on his men, the gallant Captain Buckle, R.E., was mortally wounded, having been hit by two slugs in the region of the heart.
The troops succeeded in occupying the crest of the hill, where a clearing had been made, and the enemy was driven away from this position by an advance of the naval brigade and Russell’s regiment.
“Colonel McLeod,” says Sir Garnet Wolseley, “having cleared his front, and having lost touch of the left column, now cut his way in a north-easterly direction, and came into the rear of the Highlanders about the same hour that the advance occupied Amoaful. I protected his left rear by a detachment of the Rifle Brigade. Our left flank was now apparently clear of the enemy.”
The right column were also soon hotly engaged, and so dense was the jungle between it and the main road that the men, in firing, had the greatest difficulty to avoid hitting their comrades of the Black Watch.
Mr. Henty, regarding this, says:—“Anxious to see the nature of the difficulties with which the troops were contending, I went out to the right column, and found the naval brigade lying down and firing into a dense bush, from which, in spite of their heavy firing, answering discharges came incessantly, at a distance of some twenty yards or so. The air above was literally alive with slugs, and a perfect shower of leaves continued to fall upon the earth. The sailors complained that eitherthe 23rd or 42nd were firing at them, and the same complaint was made against the naval brigade by the 42nd and 23rd. No doubt there was, at times, justice in these complaints, for the bush was so bewilderingly dense that men soon lost all idea of the points of the compass, and fired in any direction from which shots came.”
Casualties in the right columns were also numerous, and Colonel Wood, the commander, was brought in with an iron slug in his chest. The command of the wing now devolved on Captain Luxmore. But though the village was entered, the fighting was by no means at an end, and a final great effort was made by the Ashantees to turn the rear and drive the British from Amoaful. Sir Garnet immediately ordered the Rifle Brigade, hitherto unemployed in the battle, to take the back track and defend the line of communication towards Querman.
This was about one o’clock in the afternoon, and the Rifles succeeded in repulsing the natives. It will thus be seen that on all sides of the square the Ashantees had tried to break through. For more than an hour they maintained the attack, but the resistance offered completely set their attempts at nought. The climax came when Sir Garnet, observing that the Ashantee fire was slackening, gave orders for the line to advance, and to wheel round, so as to drive the enemy northwards before it.
The movement was splendidly carried out. The wild Kosses and Bonnymen of Wood’s regiment, cannibals, who had fought steadily and silently so long as they had been on the defensive, now raised their shrill war-cry, slung their rifles, drew their cutlasses, and like so many wild beasts, dashed into the bush to close with the enemy, while the Rifles, quietly and in an orderly manner as if upon parade, went on in extended order, scouring every bush with their bullets, and in five minutes from the time the “Advance” sounded, the Ashantees were in full and final retreat. Even then the enemy were not inclined to take their beating without protest, and for several hours continued to harass the troops by sudden but abortive rushes.
Terrible carnage had been wrought on the Ashantees. The losses they suffered have been estimated at between 800 and 1200 killed and wounded. The king of Mampon, who commanded the Ashantee right, was mortally wounded. Amanquatia, who commanded the left, was killed; and Appia, one of the great chiefs engaged in the centre, was also slain.
The British loss was over 200 officers and men killed and wounded, the Black Watch suffering most heavily, having one officer killed, and 7 officers and 104 men wounded. In his despatch Sir Garnet said:—
“Nothing could have exceeded the admirable conduct of the 42nd Highlanders, on whom fell the hardest share of the work”—the highest praise for which any regiment could wish.
Having thus delivered a crushing blow to native power, the troops marched forward to complete the work which they had so well begun. It was evident that before the spirit of the Ashantee savage could be thoroughly broken Coomassie must be entered. Towards this end, Sir Garnet and his troops immediately set their faces.
Hard fighting, however, was not yet at an end, and on the day following the rout at Amoaful, February 1st, the Ashantees made a stand at Becquah, an important town standing a short distance from the line of communication, and which would undoubtedly have been the cause of considerable trouble and loss of life had the General moved directly north without causing the place to be destroyed.
Only about a mile separated the camp from Becquah, and the force creeping silently upon the village, soon engaged with the enemy. Sharp firing took place, and the natives, unable to withstand the assault, turned tail and fled. The men of the naval brigade were the first to enter the place, and soon the huts were a mass of flames. Some native accoutrements and much corn fell into our hands. Following this, several villages which lay between Amoaful and Coomassie were taken with comparatively little fighting, the Ashantees having evidently taken much to heart the severe loss inflicted on them on 31st January. Each village passed through had its human sacrifice lying in the middle of the path, for the purpose of affrighting the conquerors.
“The sacrifice,” says Mr. Stanley, “was of either sex, sometimes a young man, sometimes a woman. The head, severed from the body, was turned to meet the advancing army, the body was evenly laid out, with the feet towards Coomassie. This laying out meant no doubt, ‘regard this face, white men; ye whose feet are hurrying on to our capital, and learn the fate awaiting you.’”
The spectacle was sickening, and the wanton cruelty made the victorious troops even more determined and anxious to put an end to these frightful barbarities.
From behind a series of ambuscades, the advance was again resisted at the river Ordah. After clearing out the enemy, it was learned that a large force had assembled at Ordashu, a village situated about a mile and a half beyond the northern bank of the river. Things had become serious for the Ashantees, and King Koffee now sent another letter to Sir Garnet, imploring him to halt in order that he might gather the indemnity, at the same time promising to give up his hostages,the heir-apparent and the queen mother. Sir Garnet’s reply was firm. He would march to Coomassie unless King Koffee fulfilled his promise by the next morning. The hostages failed to arrive, and the British troops were on the forward move at half-past seven in the morning.
The advance guard, consisting of Gifford’s scouts, the Rifle Brigade, Russell’s regiment, and Rait’s artillery, were early in touch with the enemy, who had sought to impede progress at Ordashu. King Koffee himself directed the battle from a village nearly a couple of miles from the scene of conflict. As the successive companies marched up they became engaged, and the firing was fast and furious. The enemy must now drive back the invaders or submit, and the throes of this final struggle for supremacy between barbarity and civilisation, the Ashantees fought with great bravery. But the Rifle Brigade proved as steady as a rock. When they moved it was forward, the rapid fire of the sniders and the well-placed shots of Rait’s artillery gradually demoralising the defenders.
In this fashion the Rifle Brigade were gradually drawing close up to the village, and at the critical moment, with a ringing cheer and a rush, they carried the day. Although the village had been occupied the natives continued to rush to their doom, and the terrible loss inflicted on them by the Rifles was greatly added to by the naval brigade’s fire and that of the troops of the main column, as they attempted to carry out their favourite flank movement.
The corpses lay thick on the roadside, while the bush was littered with dead and dying. Sir Garnet rushed the whole of the army through Ordashu, and then, without loss of time, “the Forty-Twa” were again in the van, heading towards Coomassie, a sufficient force having been left to guard Ordashu.
At Coomassie the troops had little difficulty in effecting occupation. The king and his household had fled, and further fight in the Ashantees there was none. Lord Gifford’s scouts were the first to enter the town, and were followed by the Black Watch.
Coomassie, a veritable Golgotha, was razed to the ground, the palace destroyed, and the fierce spirit of the Ashantees quelled.
Says a writer in “Blackwood’s Magazine,” in March, 1879:—“To break the military power of the Zulu nation, to save ourcolonies from apprehensions which have been paralysing all efforts at advancement, and to transform the Zulus from the slaves of a despot who has shown himself both tyrannical and cruel, and as reckless of the lives as of the rights of his subjects ... is the task which has devolved upon us in South Africa, and to perform which our troops have crossed the Tugela.”
Such causes enumerated above would appear to the unprejudiced observer to be more than sufficientraison d’êtrefor the British invasion of Zululand, but when one takes into account the unimpeachable statements of those long resident in the adjacent colony of Natal, one cannot help believing them to be a direct, if not wilful, misrepresentation of the facts.
The kingdom of Zululand in 1873 lay, as all are aware, between the British colony of Natal on the south and the Transvaal Republic on the north. Now, while the Natal border had always been in a state of quiet and peacefulness, and the nearer settlers were on friendly terms with their Zulu neighbours, the northern border of the kingdom was in a constant state of unrest. For one thing, the Transvaal Boers were, upon one pretext and another, constantly encroaching in a southerly direction on the confines of Zululand; for another, they were in the habit of treating the Zulus and other tribes with an unpardonable severity.
The accusations brought above against Cetewayo, King of Zululand, appear also to have been largely unfounded. He was crowned, at his own request, by the British Commissioner, on the 8th August, 1873, and had ruled his people well and in a fairly enlightened manner, though it is true he observed many barbarous native customs in the punishment of Zulu offenders. He may, however, be declared to be a competent and capable native ruler.
Zululand being at this time under British protection, though ruled by Cetewayo, the Zulus were not permitted to resent the intrusions of the Boers upon their borders by a recourse to arms. When, however, on April 17, 1877, Great Britain, in the person of Sir Theophilus Shepstone, annexed the Transvaal Republic, on the ground of its mismanagement, incapability, and gross ill-treatment of the native races by slavery and other means, it was felt by Cetewayo that the time had at last come when the question of his disturbed border would be satisfactorily adjusted.
The Transvaal Boers were “paralysed” when the edict of annexation was read to them, and strong protests were issued to the British Government against this high-handed proceeding. Accordingly every effort was made to conciliate the Boers until such time as they should have settled down under the new regime, almost the first of these concessions taking the form ofan anti-Zulu view of the border question. Upon this question of the Transvaal-Zulu border, the whole matter of the war now turned.
As late as 1876 the Zulu people begged that the Governor of Natal “will take a strip of the country, the length and breadth of which is to be agreed upon between the Zulus and the Commissioners (for whom they ask) sent from Natal, the strip to abut on the colony of Natal and to run to the northward and eastward in such a manner as to interpose all its length between the Boers and the Zulus, and to be governed by the colony of Natal.”
Such a Commission was appointed, and, on December 11th, 1878, the boundary award was delivered to the Zulus at the Lower Tugela Drift. It was, on the whole, favourable to the Zulus, but so fenced about with warnings and restrictions as to be virtually negative in tone, and, in fact, many have asserted that by this time the British Government had made up its mind to the annexation of Zululand. In any event, the award was followed up with an ultimatum from Sir Bartle Frere, containing thirteen specific demands. One of these entailed the “disbanding of the Zulu army, and the discontinuance of the Zulu military system.”
By this time a considerable British force was present in Natal to protect the interests of the colony, and as a “means of defending whatever the British Government finds to be its unquestionable rights.”
The reasons given for the issue of the ultimatum were three in particular. The first had reference to the affair of Sihayo. On July 28, 1878, a wife of the chief Sihayo, an under-chief of Cetewayo’s, had left her husband and escaped into Natal. Hither she was followed by Sihayo’s two chief sons and brother, conveyed back to Zululand, and there put to death in accordance with the native custom for such an offence. These culprits the Natal Government now demanded should be given up to be tried in the Natal courts. Cetewayo, however, did not regard the offence as a serious one, and offered money compensation in place of the surrender of the young men, “looking upon the whole affair as the act of rash boys, who, in their zeal for their father’s honour, did not think what they were doing.”
The demand for the person of the Swazi chief, Umbilini, formed the second point. This chief, a Swazi, was not under the jurisdiction of Cetewayo, and though he was charged, and had been frequently convicted of raiding, Cetewayo was in no way responsible for his acts, otherwise than as an over-lord.
The temporary detention of two Englishmen, Messrs. Smith and Deighton, formed the third especial grievance, and for these several offences large fines in the way of cattle were demandedin the ultimatum. Says Miss Colenso, daughter of the then Bishop of Natal, and historian of the war:—
“The High Commissioner (Sir Bartle Frere) was plainly determined not to allow the Zulus the slightest “law,” which, indeed, was wise in the interests of war, as there was considerable fear that, in spite of all grievances and vexations, Cetewayo, knowing full well, as he certainly did, that collision with the British must eventually result in his destruction, might prefer half a loaf to no bread, and submit to our exactions with what grace he could. And so probably he would; for from all accounts every effort was made by the king to collect the fines of cattle and propitiate the Government.”
Such efforts were, however, unavailing, owing to the shortness of time allowed for collecting the cattle, and no extension of the period was granted. Moreover, in the natural agitation caused among the Zulus by the grave turn events were taking, any concentration of troops on the other side of the border was construed into an intention on the part of the Zulu king to attack Natal, and urged as an additional reason for our beginning hostilities.
On the 11th January, 1879, the allotted period having expired, war was declared.
“The British forces,” ran the document, “are crossing into Zululand to exact from Cetewayo reparation for violations of British territory committed by the sons of Sihayo and others,” and to enforce better government of his people. “All who lay down their arms will be provided for, ... and when the war is finished the British Government will make the best arrangements in its power for the future good government of the Zulus.”
On the 4th inst., Lieutenant-General Lord Chelmsford, who had been resident in the colony since August, ’78, was appointed commander-in-chief of Her Majesty’s forces in South Africa.
Ulundi was to be the objective of the campaign, the British force to be divided into four columns, which should enter Zululand at four different points, and concentrated on Ulundi.
No. 1 Column, under Colonel Pearson, was to assemble on the Lower Tugela at Fort Pearson. It consisted of a company of the Royal Engineers, 2nd Battalion of the Buffs, 99th regiment, naval brigade with two guns and one gatling, one squadron of mounted infantry, about 200 Natal volunteers, two battalions of the 2nd regiment Natal native contingent, one company of Natal native pioneers, and a detachment of Royal Artillery.
No. 2 Column was to co-operate with No. 1. Colonel Dumford was in command, and the corps was composed almost entirely of natives; the Natal native horse, 315 in number, theNatal native contingent and pioneers, and three battalions of the 1st regiment, with a rocket battery composed it.
Colonel Glyn commanded the 3rd Column, and Rorke’s Drift was the point selected for the crossing of this body of troops. It consisted of six guns of the Royal Artillery, one squadron of mounted infantry, the 24th regiment, 200 Natal volunteers, 150 mounted police, the second battalion of the 3rd regiment, with pioneers, native contingent, and a company of Royal Engineers.
No. 4 Column, under Colonel (afterwards Sir Evelyn) Wood, V.C., was to advance on the Blood River. Its strength was made up of Royal Artillery, the 13th regiment, 90th regiment, frontier light horse, and 200 of the native contingent.
In addition to the four columns, a fifth, under Colonel Rowlands, composed of the 80th regiment and mounted irregulars, was available. The total fighting force numbered some 7000 British and 9000 native troops—16,000 in all, with drivers. The Zulu army was estimated at not less than 40,000 strong.
Probably no campaign has ever opened so disastrously for British arms as that which was undertaken against Cetewayo in January, 1879. At first sight, all appeared easy enough. Preparations were made upon a complete scale. Both transport and means of communication were regarded as highly satisfactory, and the first movements were conducted with success, and the two centre columns, Nos. 2 and 3, crossed the Tugela in safety, and effected their proposed junction in front of Rorke’s Drift. Many cattle and sheep were captured in these first skirmishes of the campaign, and some few Zulus were killed with but slight loss on the British side.
On the morning of the 22nd January information came to hand of the presence of a large Zulu army in front of the two centre columns, and Lord Chelmsford himself, with the greater portion of his force, advanced to clear the way. A force consisting of five companies of the 1st battalion 24th regiment, a company of the 2nd battalion, with two guns, 104 mounted colonials, and 800 natives were left to guard the camp at Isandhlwana, which contained a valuable convoy of supplies. It was 1.30 a.m. or thereabouts when the advance columns with Lord Chelmsford left camp, coming first into contact with the enemy at about five miles distant. Till about 8 a.m. nothing happened in camp worthy of notice. About this time, however, detachments of Zulus were noticed coming in from the north-east, and immediately the force got under arms.
Slowly the Zulus began to work round to the rear of the British camp, and very shortly the 24th regiment found themselves surrounded. At this point the camp followers and native troops fled as best they could, the Zulus killing with the assegaiall they could lay hands on. In a little while the British were entirely overwhelmed.
Says Miss Colenso:—“After this period (1.30 p.m.) no one living escaped from Isandhlwana, and it is supposed the troops had broken, and falling into confusion, all had perished after a brief struggle.”
One bright incident alone stands out distinctly on this fatal 22nd January. On the storming of the camp by the Zulus, Lieutenants Melville and Coghill rode from the camp with the colours of their regiment. On they spurred in their frantic flight to the Tugela, and Coghill safely stemmed the torrent and landed on the farther shore. Melville, however, while in mid stream, lost his horse, but clinging to the beloved colours, battled with the furious torrent with all the energy of despair. The Zulus pressed upon them. Quick as thought, Coghill put his charger once more into the current, and struggled to the assistance of his brother officer, and, despite the fact that a Zulu bullet made short work of his horse, the two devoted men succeeded in making their escape with the colours still in their hands. The respite was not for long, however. Soon the yelling hordes were upon them, and, fighting fiercely to the last, Lieutenants Melville and Coghill died bravely upholding the honour of their country.
Meantime the advance party had pushed forward, and came in touch now and again with the enemy, who ever fell back before them, till about midday, when it was determined to return to camp. About this time word came to hand of heavy firing near the camp, and returning gradually till about six o’clock, when at a distance of only two miles from the waggons, “four men were observed slowly advancing towards the returning force. Thinking them to be enemy, fire was opened, and one of the men fell. The others ran into the open, holding up their hands, to show themselves unarmed.” They proved to be the only survivors of the native contingent. “The camp was found tenanted by those who were taking their last long sleep.”
Nearly 4000 Zulus were found dead in the neighbourhood of Isandhlwana, showing the stout resistance made by our men. But, at the best, the disaster was a fearful one, the total Imperial losses being put at over 800 officers and men.
The night of the 22nd January saw another historic incident of the war—the heroic defence of Rorke’s Drift. At this important ford of the Tugela, vital to the British lines of communication, were stationed Lieutenants Chard and Bromhead, and B company, 2nd battalion 24th regiment. One hundred and thirty-nine men in all constituted the numbers of this devoted band. A mission station, one building of which wasused as a hospital, and one as a commissariat store, made up Rorke’s Drift.
At 3.15 p.m. (the time has been noted with great accuracy), Lieutenant Chard, who was down by the river, heard the sound of furious galloping. Louder and louder grew the hoof-beats, and ere long two spent and almost beaten horsemen drew sudden rein upon the Zulu bank of the Tugela. Wildly they demanded to be ferried across, and in a few frenzied words told the terrible tale of Isandhlwana. The Zulus were coming, they cried, and not a moment was to be lost!
One of them, Lieutenant Adendorf, remained behind to aid in the defence; the other was despatched post haste to Helpmakaar, the next point in the communications, to warn the troops and bring up reinforcements. Rorke’s Drift must be held at whatever cost and against any odds! With feverish, but well-directed haste, all hands set to work to put the mission buildings into a state of defence. Mr. Dalton, of the Commissariat Department, assisted ably in the work that every man now tackled with a will. Loopholes were made in the buildings, and by means of two waggons and walls of mealie bags, they were connected and provisioned with the stores.
At this time, between 4 and 4.30 p.m., an officer of Dumford’s Horse, with about 100 men, arrived, but these being totally spent, were sent on to Helpmakaar, and the Rorke’s Drift garrison prepared cheerfully to face the foe. They were not long in coming. Whilst Lieutenant Chard was in the midst of constructing “an inner work of biscuit boxes, already two boxes high,” about 4.30 p.m., the first of the enemy, some 600, appeared in sight. Rushing up to within fifty yards of the now extended position, they yelled defiance at the defenders, but a heavy fire from the loopholed masonry gave them pause at once.
From now on, the defence of Rorke’s Drift became one prolonged and watchful struggle. Again and again the frenzied Zulus threw themselves against the slender defences of the gallant band, and again and again were they hurled back, now with rifle fire, now with bayonet, but ever backward. Darkness set in, and still the rushes continued, till at length it was found necessary to retreat into the inner line of defence composed of the biscuit-boxes aforementioned. At length the enemy succeeded in setting the hospital on fire, and the awful task of removing the sick, under the fearful odds, was taken in hand. Alas! not all could be removed, and many perished. No effort, however, was spared to get them all out, and at the last, with ammunition all expended, Privates Williams, Hook, R. Jones, and W. Jones held the door with the bayonet against the Zulu horde.
Now and again the battered entrenchments were repaired with mealie bags, and still the unequal fight went on. By midnight the little band was completely surrounded, and the light of the burning hospital, showing off garrison and assailants, revealed the awful struggle that was going on in the lurid light. “Never say die!” was the principle of the garrison, and it was carried out to the letter.
At 4 a.m. on the 23rd January the Zulu fire slackened, and by daybreak the enemy was out of sight. Hand grasped hand, as it was slowly realised that the foe were beaten back and the flag was still fluttering over the gallant garrison. Even now Lieutenant Chard, nearly dead beat as was he and were all his men, relaxed no effort, and the work of repairing the defences went forward. Not without cause, for about 7 a.m. more Zulus appeared upon the hills to the south-west, but about an hour later No. 3 Column arrived upon the spot, and the enemy fell back. Seventeen killed and ten wounded were the casualties of the little garrison, while more than 350 Zulus lay dead around the mission station. At one time the number of the attacking force was estimated at 3000.
Rorke’s Drift, however, apart, the disaster to the British at Isandhlwana was paralysing in its effect upon not only the colony of Natal, but the home country. The outcry against Lord Chelmsford was bitter in both places. He was accused of having neglected the simple precautions which the Boers had always adopted in fighting with the Zulus, and which had been observed in our own campaigns against the Kaffirs. Though the silent celerity, the cunning, and the reckless bravery of the foe were well known, the camp at Isandhlwana had been pitched in a site singularly exposed and indefensible; it had not been protected even by a single trench, nor were the waggons “laagered.” The arrangements for scouting had permitted a large Zulu force to assemble unperceived. The small party in Natal of which the Bishop of Colenso may be regarded as the leader, argued that Sir Bartle Frere had not only commenced an unjust war, but had commenced it with inadequate resources. Other parties declared it to be a military accident which ordinary prudence could not have foreseen.
Panic, however, reigned for a season in Natal. “It is impossible,” wrote Mr. Archibald Forbes, the special correspondent of the “Daily News,” in a graphic description of the situation which appeared on May 7, 1879, “to imagine a more critical situation than that now existing round the frontier of Zululand. The British territory lies at the mercy of the Zulus.”
With such a state of affairs, the pacific intentions of King Cetewayo were never more clearly shown than at the presentjuncture, when he failed to press home the advantage his people had already won. Instead, the king once more made overtures of peace. “Cetewayo,” ran one message, “sees no reason for the war which is being waged against him, and he asks the Government to appoint a place at which a conference could be held, with a view to the conclusion of peace.” Added to such messages as these the Government expressed, through Sir Stafford Northcote, its anxiety “to promote an early and reasonable pacification of South Africa.”
Miss Colenso’s observations at this juncture are emphatic in the extreme:—“The High Commissioner’s (Sir Bartle Frere’s) habit of finding evil motives for every act of the Zulu king, made the case of the latter hopeless from the first.”
Be these things as they may, the war, once begun, was carried on—but under new auspices.
With a feeling of relief the public learned, on May 26th, that Sir Garnet Wolseley had been sent out to South Africa to take command of the forces, and to conduct, as the Queen’s Commissioner, the Governments of Natal and the Transvaal, and our relations with the Zulus. In making this appointment, the Government were careful to explain that no slight, either upon Sir Bartle Frere or Lord Chelmsford was intended, but that “an arrangement by which the chief civil and military authority at the seat of war was distributed among several persons, could no longer be deemed adequate.” On June 28th, Sir Garnet Wolseley arrived in Natal.
Meanwhile, the other columns of the expedition had been operating with more or less success elsewhere. On the day of Isandhlwana, Colonel Pearson’s column had been engaged against an impi of 5000 Zulus, ten miles south of Ekowe, and defeated them with heavy loss. With 1200 men he then prepared to hold the carefully-entrenched position he had selected round the mission buildings at Ekowe. In a very brief space of time he found himself cut off from his communications, and hemmed in on all sides by the enemy. By means of heliograph signals communication was kept up by the beleagured force and Fort Tenedos, the base of relief on the Tugela, and by this means it was soon ascertained that towards the end of March the defenders would be hard pressed for provisions. Relief was accordingly hurried forward, and on the 29th of the month a column, of 4000 British troops fresh from England, and 2000 natives, started from the Tugela. Every possible precaution was observed by Lord Chelmsford, who commanded in person. At early dawn on the 2nd April, Colonel Pearson flashed intelligence to the relieving force that the enemy were approaching.
The Zulus swept on with their usual reckless valour, andwere met with a perfect hail of lead and fire, gatlings and rocket batteries being used with deadly effect. Again and again they renewed the onset, but “never got nearer than twenty yards to the shelter trenches,” and after an hour and a half of splendid fight, they broke and fled. The cavalry cut down the fugitives, and of their force of 10,000, 1500 lay dead upon the field. This engagement at Gingihlovo, resulting in the relief of Colonel Pearson, cost us but a trifling loss.
Elsewhere, Colonels Wood and Rowlands had joined hands, and were pressing Umbilini, the Swazi chief, who had succeeded in cutting up some 45 men of the 80th regiment while sleeping in camp on the Intombi river. Colonel Wood, on March 28th, captured this chief’s stronghold at Hlobani, but while returning to his camp with many captured cattle, was trapped by the whole Zulu impi, and, on the following day, his camp at Kambula was attacked by 20,000 Zulus. For four hours a desperate fight ensued, but finally the enemy were driven off. Soon after this Umbilini himself was killed.
The tide of war now turned. By the 15th April all the British reinforcements had arrived, and the invasion of the enemy’s country, deferred by Isandhlwana, was again considered. Ulundi, as before, the king’s chief kraal, was the objective of the expedition, and much time was yet spent in getting together supplies for the large force now about to be employed, and in considering the route it was to take.
The interval now elapsing was conspicuous for an occurrence which threw a gloom over the whole field force, and even the continent of Europe itself.
On June 2nd, the young Prince Imperial of France, who had been allowed to proceed to South Africa, largely as a spectator of the military operations, was sent with a small escort of troopers to examine the proposed line of march from the Itilezi Hill. Lieutenant Carey of the 98th went with him. Ever eager in adventure, and careless of personal risk, the Prince insisted upon setting out with only a portion of his escort, the others not having turned out in time. The discovery of a good water supply for the next camping ground was the object of the reconnaissance. Never for a moment supposing that the Prince and Lieutenant Carey would proceed far without the Basuto members of their escort, whose extraordinary powers of sight and hearing rendered them invaluable on such an occasion, Colonel Harrison and Major Grenfell rode back after a certain distance. The others went on alone. About 3 p.m. the little party halted at a deserted kraal, deciding to leave again in an hour’s time, but before the hour was over the native guide came hastening in to say that a Zulu had been sighted coming over the hill. The Prince never foolhardy, at oncegave the order to “Mount!” But the Zulus were quicker. Firing a volley from the mealies, which grew high on every side, they rushed down, assegai in hand. All succeeded in mounting but the Prince, whose spirited grey charger would not be controlled. In a moment he was alone, on foot, surrounded by the savage foe. Turning round, on seeing his riderless horse, several of the troopers saw the Prince running towards them on foot. “Not a man turned back. They galloped wildly on.” Some distance later they met Colonels Wood and Buller, and to them they made the melancholy report.
Next day, General Marshall, with a cavalry patrol, went out to search for the Prince, and lying in a donga, 200 yards from the kraal, they found his body, stripped bare with the exception of a gold chain and cross which he wore round his neck. There were no less than eighteen assegai wounds in the body, every one of them in front, as he had died fearless to the last and facing the relentless foe. The bodies of two troopers were found some distance away; they had been killed in their flight.
“What citizen of ‘Maritzburg,” says the historian of the war, “will ever forget the melancholy Sunday afternoon, cold and storm-laden, when, at the first distant sound of the sad approaching funeral music, all left their homes and lined the streets through which the violet-adorned coffin passed on its way to its temporary resting place?”
Transferred at Durban to the flagship of Commodore Richards, the Boadicea, and thence, at Simons Bay to H.M.S. Orontes, the body of the gallant boy was brought to England with every mark of sorrow and respect. Lieutenant Carey was found by court-martial to be guilty of misbehaviour before the enemy, but military opinion condemned the verdict, and on his arrival in England he was released from arrest. All ranks and all classes were profoundly sympathetic towards the Prince’s mother, the ex-Empress Eugenie.
In this interval of waiting also, the bodies of those who died at Isandhlwana were at length interred, the 24th regiment burying its own dead before the assembled battalions.
Once more Cetewayo was reported to be eager to submit, and on June 30th chiefs of rank arrived at Lord Chelmsford’s camp, bearing elephants’ tusks, the Zulu symbol of good faith. They were told that the British army would advance to a position on the left bank of the Umoolori river, and there halt, if certain conditions were complied with. These were that the two seven-pounders captured at Isandhlwana and the captured cattle, should be restored by chiefs of authority, and one of his regiments should come and lay down its arms.
By noon on July 3rd these demands were not complied with, and some of our men who went down to the river to water werefired on by the Zulus. On July 4 the whole force crossed the river at 6.45 a.m. and advanced towards Ulundi. Streams of Zulus soon appeared on every side. The cavalry on the right and left became engaged two hours later, and slowly retiring as the enemy advanced, passed into “the square,” which had been drawn up in a singularly advantageous position. The enemy advanced in loose formation, throwing out, however, the customary “horns” of the Zulu impi. Then, when the distance was sufficiently reduced, the fire of the infantry commenced. The enemy fired rapidly, but, as usual, with little effect. The British artillery fire was tremendous. Volley after volley swept through the Zulu ranks as they rushed boldly in to the attack, but the issue was not long. The devoted “braves” began to waver, and the ripe moment was seized upon by Lord Chelmsford. The cavalry swept out of the square, which opened to let them through, and within an hour the Zulus were in full retreat. The 17th Lancers wrought tremendous execution, killing and riding down in all directions. No less than 150 of the enemy fell before this squadron alone.
Brief, as described, was the battle of Ulundi, which terminated the Zulu campaign. The credit of the victory admittedly belongs to Lord Chelmsford, who thus regained much of the prestige which he had forfeited at Isandhlwana.
The British lost 10 killed at Ulundi; the Zulus nearly 1000. Our force numbered 4000 Europeans and 1100 natives; the Zulus counted 20,000 in all.
Later in the day the army advanced to Ulundi, burnt it with all the other military kraals and returned to camp. Nearly all the leading chiefs in Zululand marked the victory by their submission.
Cetewayo himself, footsore and weary, was run to earth on the morning of August 28th in a kraal near the Black Umoolosi. The kraal was surrounded, and the king bidden to come forth. Cetewayo, creeping out, stood with kingly composure and defiance among the dragoons. He was taken by sea to Cape Town and there confined in the castle. He was a man of splendid physique, and, says a writer, “showed good-humoured resignation.” He took to European clothes, and was photographed.
The terms of peace were subsequently dictated by Sir Garnet Wolseley at Ulundi, on the 1st September—the anniversary day of Cetewayo’s coronation.