CHAPTER XIV.

RORKE’S DRIFT—HELPMAKAAR—COURT OF INQUIRY, ETC.

The garrison of the Rorke’s Drift post consisted of B Company 2-24th Regiment (Lieutenant Bromhead), and (with officers and casuals) was of a total strength of 139. It was encamped on the Natal side of the Buffalo, where there was a mission station, one building of which was used as a hospital and one as a commissariat store. The crossing of the river was effected by what are called “ponts”—boats used as a kind of “flying bridge”—and there were drifts, or fords, in the vicinity. Major Spalding, Deputy-Assistant-Adjutant-General, and Lieutenant Chard, R.E., were stationed here. The former rode off to Helpmakaar at 2 P.M., 22nd January, “to bring up Captain Rainforth’s company, 1st Battalion 24th Regiment, to protect the pont,” leaving Lieutenant Chard in command of the post.

About 3.15 P.M., Lieutenant Chard was at the ponts, when two men came riding from Zululand at a gallop, and shouted to be taken across the river. They were Lieutenant Adendorff, Natal Native Contingent, and a carbineer, who brought tidings of the disaster at Isandhlwana and the advance of the Zulus towards Rorke’s Drift. Lieutenant Adendorff remained to assist in the defence of the post, and the carbineer rode on to take the news to Helpmakaar.

Lieutenant Chard at once gave orders to secure the stores at the ponts, and rode up to the commissariat store, when he found a note had been received from the 3rd Column, saying the enemy were advancing, and directing them to strengthen and hold the post at all cost. Lieutenant Bromhead was actively at work preparing for defence, ably assisted by Mr. Dalton, of the Commissariat Department, loopholing the buildings and connecting them by walls of mealie-bags and two waggons that were there. Lieutenant Chard then rode down to the pont, and brought up the guard and stores.

An officer, with about a hundred of “Durnford’s Horse,” now arrived, and asked for orders. He was instructed to throw out men to watch the drifts and ponts, to check the enemy’s advance, and fall back on the post when forced to retire. These men had, however, been in the saddle since daylight, and had gone through a heavy engagement: they were quite exhausted (besides being dispirited by the loss of their beloved leader), and, after remaining a short time, retired to Helpmakaar. A detachment of Natal Native Contingent also left the post.

Lieutenant Chard now commenced an inner work—“a retrenchment of biscuit-boxes.” This was two boxes high when, about 4.30 P.M., 500 or 600 of the enemy came in sight, and advanced at a run against the south wall. They were met with a well-sustained fire, but, in spite of their loss, approached to within about fifty yards. Here they were checked by the cross-fire from the attacked front and the store-house. Some got under cover and kept up a heavy fire, but the greater number, without stopping, moved to the left, round the hospital, and made a rush at the wall of mealie-bags. After a short but desperate struggle the enemy were driven back with heavy loss into the bush around the post. The main body of the enemy coming up, lined the ledge of rock, caves, etc., overlooking the work, at a distance of about 400 yards to the south, and from whence a constant fire was kept up, and they also occupied in great force the garden, hollow road, and bush.

The bush not having been cleared away enabled the enemy to advance under cover close to the wall, and a series of desperate assaults were made, extending from the hospital along the wall as far as the bush reached; each assault was brilliantly met and repulsed with the bayonet, Corporal Scheiss, Natal Native Contingent, distinguishing himself greatly. The fire from the rocks took the work completely in reverse, and was so heavy that about 6 P.M., the garrison was obliged to retire behind the entrenchment of biscuit-boxes.

During this period the enemy had been storming the hospital, and at last succeeded in setting fire to the roof. The garrison defended it most gallantly, bringing out all the sick that could be moved; Privates Williams, Hook, R. Jones, and W. Jones, 2-24th Regiment, being the last men to leave, and holding the doorway with the bayonet when their ammunition was expended. The want of communication and the burning of the house rendered it impossible to save all the sick.

It was now found necessary to make another entrenchment, which was done with two heaps of mealie-bags, Assistant-Commissary Dunne working hard at this, though much exposed. As darkness came on the little garrison was completely surrounded, but gallantly repulsed several serious assaults; it was, however, eventually forced to retire to the inner entrenchment, which it held throughout the night. The attack continued vigorously till midnight, the men firing on the assailants with the greatest coolness, aided by the light afforded by the burning hospital. A desultory fire was kept up by the enemy throughout the night, but this ceased about 4 A.M. on the 23rd, and at daybreak the enemy was out of sight. Lieutenant Chard at once set about patrolling round the post, collecting the Zulu arms, and strengthening the defences.

About 7 A.M., a large body of the enemy appeared on the hills to the south-west, and Lieutenant Chard sent off a note to Helpmakaar asking for assistance. About 8 A.M., No. 3 Column appeared in sight, the enemy falling back on its approach. Thus ended a most gallant defence, reflecting the utmost credit on all concerned.

The loss of the garrison was 15 non-commissioned officers and men killed, and 12 wounded (of whom two died almost immediately). The attacking force was estimated at 3000 men, of whom upwards of 350 were killed.

Lord Chelmsford, with the remains of No. 3 Column, had moved off from Isandhlwana, as we have already described, at daybreak that morning. It had been thought necessary to insist upon absolute inaction through the night; no attempt was allowed at identifying the dead, or even at making sure that no life remained in the camp; and men lay down to rest, ignorant whether a careless hand might not fall on the lifeless form of a dead comrade or, mayhap, a brother. The remainder of the Natal Carbineers, as they afterwards discovered, bivouacked that night on the right of the camp, upon the very “neck” of land where so gallant a stand was made; their captain recognising the body of Lieutenant Scott, and therefore being able afterwards to identify the spot. That life might exist without its being known to the returning column is proved by the fact that a native groom lay for dead, although unwounded, in the camp throughout the night. The man had feigned death when the camp was taken, and did not dare to move on the return of the General’s party, lest he should be taken by them for a Zulu, and should share the fate of the few actual Zulus found intoxicated beneath the waggons, and bayoneted by our soldiers. He crept out in the morning, and followed the retreating column to Rorke’s Drift at a distance, meeting on the way with narrow escapes of losing his life from both friend and foe.

On coming within sight of Rorke’s Drift, heavy smoke was seen rising from it, and Zulus retiring; this caused the liveliest apprehensions for the safety of the post. However, to the intense relief of all, on nearing the Buffalo River the waving of hats was seen from a hastily-erected entrenchment, and the safety of the little garrison was known.

Lieut.-Colonel Russell was sent with a mounted escort to Helpmakaar, to see if the road was open and all safe there; but some officers of Major Bengough’s battalion Natal Native Contingent rode in and reported the road open, Helpmakaar laagered, and no attack made on it. Some men of the Buffalo Border Guard also rode in from Fort Pine and reported all well there.

The General and staff hurried down to Pietermaritzburg _viâ_ Helpmakaar, while the garrison at Rorke’s Drift was left in utter confusion,[147] as testified by many of those present at the time. No one appeared responsible for anything that might happen, and the result was one disgraceful to our English name, and to all concerned. A few Zulu prisoners had been taken by our troops—some the day before, others previous to the disaster at Isandhlwana, and these prisoners were put to death in cold blood at Rorke’s Drift. It was intended to set them free, and they were told to run for their lives, but they were shot down and killed, within sight and sound of the whole force. An eye-witness—an officer—described the affair to the present writer, saying that the men whom _he_ saw killed numbered “not more than seven, nor less than five.” He said that he was standing with others in the camp, and hearing shots close behind him, he turned, and saw the prisoners in question in the act of falling beneath the shots and stabs of a party of our men.[148] The latter, indeed, were men belonging to the Native Contingent, but they were supposed to be under white control, and should not have been able to obtain possession of the prisoners under any circumstances. Scenes like these were not likely to impress the savages with whom we were dealing with our merciful and Christian qualities, nor to improve the chances of European prisoners who might fall into their hands during the campaign.

As soon as order was a little restored, the cover round the post of Rorke’s Drift was cleared away, barricades built, the thatched roof taken off the house, and the four guns placed in position within the enclosure.

The General and staff reached Pietermaritzburg early on January 26th. There, as everywhere else, panic reigned, and gloom spread over all. From the city especially many a son and brother had gone out to fall upon that fatal day, and grief was mingled there with terror for what might come next. It was long before any accurate information could be gained as to what had happened, and who had fallen; and, owing to the hurried retreat of No. 3 Column from Isandhlwana before daybreak on the 23rd, the great burden of uncertainty was laid upon many heavy hearts both upon the spot and at home in England.

At first all who had had friends at the camp hoped they might be amongst the saved, since it was known that some had escaped by “The Fugitives’ Drift,” a spot some five miles from Rorke’s Drift, where those flying from Isandhlwana crossed the river; and day by day the lists of killed and missing appeared with the names gradually removed from the latter to the former. Well had an hour’s daylight been spent that morning to spare the uncertainty that hung over many an English and South African home for days and weeks, and even months.

No time was now lost in making such preparations for defence as the principal towns afforded. An invasion of the colony by the victorious Zulu army was hourly expected, and with some reason, since retaliation for our invasion might naturally be feared. Sir Bartle Frere himself remarks, on February 12th (C. 2269): “It has become painfully evident that the Zulu king has an army at his command which could almost any day unexpectedly invade Natal; and owing to the great extent of frontier, and utter helplessness of the undisciplined hordes of Natal natives to offer effectual resistance, the Zulus might march at will through the country, devastating and murdering, without a chance of being checked, as long as they abstained from attacking the entrenched posts of Her Majesty’s troops, which are from 50 to 100 miles apart. The capital and all the principal towns are at this moment in ‘laager,’ prepared for attack, which even if successfully resisted, would leave two-thirds of them in ashes, and the country around utterly desolated.”[149]

Whatever reasonable fears of retaliation were entertained by the people of Natal, they soon rose to panic-height in consequence of the great alarm displayed by the chief authorities, both military and civil. By their orders, the central part of ’Maritzburg, including the Court House, was barricaded with loopholed boarding, as a refuge for the citizens in case of attack, wells were dug inside the Court House, and notice given that the usual guns, announcing the arrival of the English mails, would be discontinued for the present, but that three guns would be fired as a signal for the citizens to go into the laager within three hours, while four guns would signify that the danger was urgent, and they must fly into it at once, taking stores of food, which they were to have ready beforehand, beside what the borough council had provided, and they must then comply with an elaborate series of rules, which was published in the Government _Gazette_. So great, indeed, was the scare that some of the citizens of ’Maritzburg did actually take refuge one night in the laager, and others hurriedly left the colony, while many natives, living near the city, slept out, with their wives and children, some nights in the open field. On that night, when terror was at its height, it is said that the bedding of the Governors and their staff, together with the official records of Government House, was removed to the neighbouring gaol, a strong stone building, just under the guns of Fort Napier, which was chosen as a place of refuge for their Excellencies. It is also said that Lord Chelmsford’s horse was kept saddled and bridled all night; and a stretcher was placed, by express order, outside the window of a lady in delicate health, without her knowledge, so as to be ready in case of emergency—as if a Zulu impi could drop suddenly, at a moment’s notice, into the middle of the city, the frontier, at the nearest point, being sixty miles off.

Whether or no the High Commissioner was really in such a state of alarm as he appeared to be, the existence of such a scare in Natal would, no doubt, help to support his policy in the eyes of those at home, as an actual inroad of Zulus at that time would have still more effectually justified the charges he had made against Cetshwayo, and the strong measures he had taken in invading Zululand, for the good of the Zulus themselves and the safety of the colony. After the disaster at Isandhlwana, Sir B. Frere of course reiterates his charges against the king of intending to invade the colony (C. 2269). But these charges are sufficiently answered by the mere fact that although, as Sir B. Frere himself points out, Natal lay at his mercy for some months after the disaster, he made no attack whatever either upon Swazis, Boers, or English. After Isandhlwana, if ever, such invasion was to be dreaded, yet not only was none attempted, but even the Zulus who, in the flush of victory crossed into Natal at Rorke’s Drift on the 22nd, were called back by their officers with the words, “Against the orders of your king!”

In startling contrast to the panic which reigned after the 22nd January was the ignorance and carelessness shown by the authorities beforehand. At the very time of the disaster to No. 3 Column there was a train of fifteen waggons, with sixty-five boxes of ammunition each, moving unguarded up to Helpmakaar, upon a road eight miles from and parallel to the Zulu border!

With the exception of Rorke’s Drift, no military station was at this time more open to attack than Helpmakaar, distant from it about twelve miles. The fugitives from Isandhlwana, Captains Essex and Gardner, Lieutenants Cochrane, Curling, and Smith-Dorrien, with about thirty others, reached this place between 5 and 6 P.M., and at once set about forming a waggon-laager round the stores. The garrison of two companies of the 1-24th Regiment had marched towards Rorke’s Drift during the day; but Major Spalding says: “On reaching the summit of a hill from which the mission-house is visible it was observed to be in flames; this confirmed the statement of the fugitives that the post had been captured. This being the case, it was determined to save, if possible, Helpmakaar and its depôt of stores” ... and the column reached Helpmakaar by 9 P.M. (P. P. [C. 2260] p. 88.) Captain Gardner, soon after reaching Helpmakaar, left for Utrecht, it having occurred to him to carry the news of the disaster himself to Colonel Wood. Our loss at Isandhlwana is given as 689 officers and men Imperial troops, and 133 officers and men of Colonial Volunteers, Mounted Police, and Natal Native Contingents—Europeans (P. P. [C. 2260] pp. 93-98); but the actual loss was slightly in excess of those numbers.

The Zulu army appears to have consisted of the following regiments: ’Kandampemvu (or Umcityu), ’Ngobamakosi, Uve, Nokenke, Umbonambi, Udhloko, Nodwengu, and Undi (which comprises the Tulwana, ’Ndhlondhlo, and Indhluyengwe), whose full nominal strength reaches a total of 30,900 men; but the actual numbers are estimated at from 20,000 to 25,000.

The Zulus acknowledge to having suffered heavily, and their loss is estimated at 3000.

Cetshwayo’s youngest brother, Nugwende, who surrendered on 27th April, said he was present at Isandhlwana. That the front and left flank attack was beaten, and fell back with great loss until the fire of the white troops slackened; the right flank entering the camp, the attack was renewed, the English being unable to prevent their onset from want of ammunition. The Zulu army, he says, numbered 20,000 of the king’s best troops.

A court of inquiry, composed of Colonel Hassard, C.B., R.E., Lieut.-Colonel Law, R.A., and Lieut.-Colonel Harness, R.A., assembled at Helpmakaar on the 27th January, when the following officers gave evidence: Major Clery; Colonel Glyn, C.B.; Captain Gardner, 14th Hussars; Captain Essex, 75th Regiment; Lieutenant Cochrane, 32nd Regiment; Lieutenant Smith-Dorrien, 95th Regiment; Captain Nourse, Natal Native Contingent; and Lieutenant Curling, R.A.

The evidence taken consisted of statements made by the above officers, not one of whom appears to have been questioned. The (so-called) inquiry seems to have been strictly limited to the occurrences at the camp, as we find Major Clery’s evidence finish abruptly, “I saw the column out of camp and accompanied it.” Colonel Glyn merely corroborated Major Clery’s statement; and the other officers gave their respective versions of the occurrences at the camp; Captain Essex giving a very clear and detailed account of the movements of the 24th Regiment.

The proceedings were forwarded on the 29th, with these remarks: “The court has examined and recorded the statements of the chief witnesses.

“The copy of proceedings forwarded was made by a confidential clerk of the Royal Engineers.

“The court has refrained from giving an opinion, as instructions on this point were not given to it.”

The proceedings were forwarded from Durban to the Secretary of State for War on February 8th by Lord Chelmsford, who said: “The court has very properly abstained from giving an opinion, and I myself refrain also from making any observations, or from drawing any conclusions from the evidence therein recorded.”

He regrets that more evidence has not been taken, and has directed his military secretary “to append a statement of the facts which came under his cognizance on the day in question.”—(P. P. [C. 2260] p. 80).

On this officer’s “statement” some remarks have been made in the previous chapter; and we must now quote one or two passages from the public prints, which appeared when Colonel Harness’s share in the proceedings of the 22nd January first came to light.

_The Daily News_ of April 8th, referring to this episode and the court of inquiry, says: “Lord Chelmsford seems to have been as unfortunate in the selection of his staff-officers as he was in everything else.”

Lieut.-Colonel Crealock’s “statement” is stigmatised as “palpably written to establish a preconceived theory;” and _The Daily News_ says most justly that “Colonel Harness should not have sat as member of the court of inquiry. How it could have been supposed that an officer who had taken so prominent a part in the doings of the 22nd January was a fit and suitable member of a court assembled even to take evidence merely, is more than we can understand. Besides, the very fact of his being a member, we are told, precluded Colonel Harness from giving his own valuable evidence.”

_The Natal Witness_ of May 29th, 1879, makes some reflections on the same subject, which are very pertinent. We need not repeat its criticisms on the court of inquiry, etc. but it says: “It is notorious that certain members of Lord Chelmsford’s staff—there is no need to mention any name or names—came down to ’Maritzburg after the disaster, prepared to make Colonel Durnford bear the whole responsibility, and that it was upon their representations that the High Commissioner’s telegram about ‘poor Durnford’s misfortune’ was sent.”

How a court of inquiry, assembled without the power, apparently, of asking a single question, was to throw much light on the causes of the disaster, does not appear. Its scope was limited to the doings at the camp; and under any circumstances it could not well criticise the faults of the General. The proceedings of this court of inquiry can therefore only be considered as eminently unsatisfactory.

We might here leave this painful subject, were it not for the undisguised attempts that have been made to throw the blame on the dead.

In considering the question of blame, we must first put before us the circumstances in which the camp defenders found themselves when they were required “to defend the camp.”

Now the orders given to Lieut.-Colonel Pulleine are stated by Major Clery, senior staff-officer of No. 3 Column, thus:—

“Before leaving the camp I sent written instructions to Colonel Pulleine, 24th Regiment, to the following effect: ‘You will be in command of the camp during the absence of Colonel Glyn; draw in (I speak from memory) your camp, or your line of defence’—I am not certain which—‘while the force is out; also draw in the line of your infantry outposts accordingly, but keep your cavalry vedettes still far advanced.’ I told him to have a waggon ready loaded with ammunition ready to follow the force going out at a moment’s notice, if required. I went to Colonel Pulleine’s tent just before leaving camp to ascertain that he had got these instructions, and again repeated them verbally to him.”—(P. P. [C. 2260] p. 81).

As regards the force left to defend the camp, there were no instructions to form a defensive post; the General did not think it necessary, though to him was the almost prescient remark made: “We should be all right if we only had a laager.” He saw no danger; he was about to move his camp on, and a laager would be useless work, so he put the suggestion on one side with the remark: “It would take a week to make.” Thus Lieut.-Colonel Pulleine was left, and he had no reason to anticipate danger, till, almost without a moment’s warning, he found the camp threatened by an overwhelming force; he then, after trying in vain to check the enemy’s right, endeavoured to hold the donga and broken ground close in front of the camp, where his men found some cover; the camp itself being absolutely indefensible.[150] Colonel Durnford, as we have seen, reached the camp about 10.30 A.M., before which time Major Chard says: “The troops were in column ... out of camp,” and he saw Zulus “on the crest of the distant hills,” and several parties moving to the left towards Rorke’s Drift. Colonel Durnford takes out his mounted men to (as he thinks) assist his General, and to see what the enemy is about.[B]

Again, some assert that the action was brought about by Colonel Durnford’s Native Horse in the Ingqutu Hills. Even had it been so, yet this officer’s duty distinctly was to feel and reconnoitre the enemy.[151] When the Zulu army moved forward to the attack, he, with his handful of men, fell slowly back, gaining all the time possible for the camp defenders.

Taking the whole of the circumstances of the day, we may conclude that, had the enemy remained hidden on the 22nd, we should probably have lost the entire column instead of part; but the account given by an English Officer with one of the troops that first saw the enemy, and other accounts from Zulus, seem to make it clear that the Zulus were moving on the camp when they came in contact with the horsemen. That they had no intention of remaining hidden is shown by their unconcealed movements on the hills throughout the morning.[152]

Now, whether these defenders did or did not take the best measures “to defend the camp” when it was attacked, the primary causes of the disaster were undoubtedly these:

1. The fatal position selected for the camp, and the total absence of any defensive precautions.

2. The absence of systematic scouting, whereby an army of upwards of 20,000 Zulus was enabled to approach Isandhlwana on the 21st, and remained unobserved till the 22nd, although their mounted scouts were actually seen by the General and staff on the 21st, watching _them_.

3. The subdivision of the force, and the absence of proper communications by signalling or otherwise.

4. The neglect of warnings given by the events of the day, and messages from the camp; also the withdrawal of a force actually on the march to the relief of the camp.

For these principal causes of the disaster, none of those who fell were responsible.

That Lord Chelmsford was shaken by the tragic events of January is evident from his letter to the Secretary of State for War, dated “Durban, Natal, February 9th, 1879,” and which ran as follows: “I consider it my duty to lay before you my opinion that it is very desirable, in view of future contingencies, that an officer of the rank of major-general shall be sent out to South Africa without delay. In June last I mentioned privately to His Royal Highness the Field-Marshal Commanding-in-Chief that the strain of prolonged anxiety and exertion, physical and mental, was even then telling on me. What I felt then, I feel still more now. His Excellency Sir Bartle Frere concurs in this representation, and pointed out to me that the officer selected should be fitted to succeed him in his position of High Commissioner. In making this representation, I need not assure you that it will be my earnest desire to carry on my duties for Her Majesty’s service up to the fullest extent of my powers.”—(P. P. [C. 2260] p. 79).

The exact meaning of this letter has never been made clear. No doubt Lord Chelmsford was feeling “the strain of prolonged anxiety and exertion, physical and mental,” but His Royal Highness the Commander-in-Chief said that he had no previous knowledge of it. Students of Greek history will note the striking parallelism of this case with that of Nicias, who, when commanding before Syracuse in the year 414 B.C., applied to be superseded. “Such was the esteem which the Athenians felt for this union of good qualities, purely personal and negative, with eminent station, that they presumed the higher aptitudes of command,” and “the general vote was one not simply imputing no blame, but even pronouncing continued and unabated confidence.”—Grote’s “History of Greece.”

But of all the strange and incomprehensible circumstances connected with that sad time, the one which struck Natal as the strangest was the utter desertion of the battle-field and the long neglect of the dead who lay there. On the 4th February Major Black, 2-24th Regiment, with a small party, found the bodies of Lieutenants Melville and Coghill about 300 yards from the river on the Natal side, near the Fugitives’ Drift, and they were buried on the spot, the colours which they had striven to save being found in the river, and returned next day to the Regiment at Helpmakaar.

The fatal field of Isandhlwana was not again seen till the 14th March, when Major Black, 2-24th, with a small mounted party, paid a flying visit to the spot, a few shots only being fired at them from a distance. No attempt was made to bury the dead, and until the 21st of May that ghastly field remained as it was left on the 23rd of January, although there does not appear to have been any period since the disaster when a moderate force might not with perfect safety have done all that was necessary.

On the morning after the return of Colonel Glyn’s Column to Rorke’s Drift, “Commandant Lonsdale mustered the Contingent and called out the indunas, and told them in the hearing of all that he wanted to find out the men who were courageous and would stand by their officers and die with them if necessary, and that those who were willing to do this were to come forward. At this time the mounted infantry and volunteers were moving off to Helpmakaar. The general reply of the Contingent was that they were willing to go over to fight along with the white people, their shield against Cetywayo; but that now that they saw their shield going away they would not go over by themselves, and that no one could say he was not afraid.”[153]

“They were then dismissed, but in the afternoon they were all disarmed (of their guns), and their belts and puggaries and blankets taken from them by their officers. Each company had a flag, which they asked to take home with them; some were allowed to do so, but others were not. They were then all told to go home, and to keep together till they reached the Umsinga, and then to divide each for his own home.”

On January 24th, Colonel Glyn wrote to Lord Chelmsford: “The whole of the Native Contingent walked off this morning. Their rifles were taken from them; all the hospital-bearers then went, and now the Native Pioneers are going. I am now left without any natives.” The General immediately forwarded Colonel Glyn’s letter to Sir Henry Bulwer, with the remark: “Unless these men are at once ordered back to their regiments, or punished for refusing to go, the most serious consequences will ensue” (_ibid._ p. 3).

Sir Henry Bulwer very properly abstained from taking any strong measures as to punishing the men until he had inquired into the causes which led to their desertion. Eventually, indeed, he discovered that most of them had not deserted at all, but had been disbanded by their leader, Commandant Lonsdale. But meanwhile there was a great deal to be said, and on January 29th Sir Henry writes, pointing out that “the great disaster which happened to our force at Isandhlwana Camp on the 22nd inst., the circumstances under which these men passed the night of the 22nd, and the retirement of the remainder of the column on Rorke’s Drift and back into Natal, were all calculated to have their effect on the natives who belonged to this column;” and proceeds: “I am told, too, that whilst the European force at Rorke’s Drift on the night of the 23rd were entrenched, the Native Contingent was not entrenched; and further I am told that, on an alarm being given that night, the European officers and non-commissioned officers who were with the Native Contingent left their men and took refuge within the entrenchments. On the following morning, the 24th, the General and his staff left the camp; and this circumstance, those acquainted with the native character tell me, may very probably have had a further depressing effect upon the natives.”—(P. P. [C. 2318] p. 4).

On February 7th, Sir Henry Bulwer writes again that he has received answers from the magistrates whom he had directed to make inquiries into the causes of the dispersion of the men. These reports speak of the cheerful spirit and loyal tone of the chiefs, and of very many of the men having reported themselves to their magistrates on their return from the front. The accounts given by the different magistrates are unanimous as to the causes of the dispersion. Some of the men declared that officers of the Contingent told them to return home and await further orders, as provisions were short; others, to use their own words, said: “We saw that the Government was driven out of Zululand, and the wind blew us back also.” They thought also that the Commander-in-Chiefs hasty departure from Rorke’s Drift was a flight from the enemy. Another reason for their retreat, and to them a very strong one, was the necessity of going home and performing the rights of purifying after shedding blood.[154] It was also stated that some of them were led by their officers in their retreat. Others saw their officers killed, were left without control, and fled. Their friends were now laughing at them, and they were eager to return to the front under proper guidance.

These, indeed, were ample explanations for the fact of the dispersion of the 3rd Regiment Natal Native Contingent, but they were followed by many and serious complaints, made by the men and reported by the magistrates, of the manner in which the former had been treated since the campaign began. These complaints comprised insufficiency of food, floggings for disobedience to orders which they had either never heard, or had not understood, and bad officers.[155] These were the most important items, the rest referring to their preference for their own methods of fighting, to which, as we have already shown, there were the strongest objections.

These reports referred solely to the contingent attached to Colonel Glyn’s column, with the exception of one, which was concerning the remnant of the Zikali men, escaped from Isandhlwana.

It was finally decided that the men of the contingents belonging to No. 1 Column might “be allowed to leave in batches, but they must be made to understand that they are required for the defence of Natal.” (P. P. [C. 2260] p. 22.) The contingent forming No. 2 Column remained steadily serving throughout the war. Major Bengough’s battalion had a narrow escape of sharing in the disaster of Isandhlwana, and the men were somewhat shaken and disheartened at seeing the contingent of No. 3 Column dispersing; but this ill-effect soon passed away.

Colonel Pearson’s remarks on the company of Native Pioneers belonging to his column are concise and valuable. He says: “The men worked cheerfully. They had eyes like hawks, and they did all their scouting to perfection. It convinced me that the Natal Zulus, under proper management, would make excellent troops.”