Child of Storm

"Beetje varm! [a little hot] Beetje varm, Baas!" I heard him say. Then

my horse screamed aloud and something hit me hard upon the head--I

suppose it was a thrown kerry--after which I remember nothing for a

while, except a sensation of passing through the air.

I came to myself again, and found that I was still on the horse, which

was ambling forward across the veld at a rate of about eight miles an

hour, and that Scowl was clinging to my stirrup leather and running at

my side. He was covered with blood, so was the horse, and so was I. It

may have been our own blood, for all three were more or less wounded, or

it may have been that of others; I am sure I do not know, but we were

a terrible sight. I pulled upon the reins, and the horse stopped among

some thorns. Scowl felt in the saddlebags and found a large flask of

Hollands gin and water--half gin and half water--which he had placed

there before the battle. He uncorked and gave it to me. I took a long

pull at the stuff, that tasted like veritable nectar, then handed it to

him, who did likewise. New life seemed to flow into my veins. Whatever

teetotallers may say, alcohol is good at such a moment.

"Where are the Amawombe?" I asked.

"All dead by now, I think, Baas, as we should be had not your horse

bolted. Wow! but they made a great fight--one that will be told of! They

have carried those three regiments away upon their spears."

"That's good," I said. "But where are we going?"

"To Natal, I hope, Baas. I have had enough of the Zulus for the present.

The Tugela is not far away, and we will swim it. Come on, before our

hurts grow stiff."

So we went on, till presently we reached the crest of a rise of ground

overlooking the river, and there saw and heard dreadful things, for

beneath us those devilish Usutu were massacring the fugitives and the

camp-followers. These were being driven by the hundred to the edge of

the water, there to perish on the banks or in the stream, which was

black with drowned or drowning forms.

And oh! the sounds! Well, these I will not attempt to describe.

"Keep up stream," I said shortly, and we struggled across a kind of

donga, where only a few wounded men were hidden, into a somewhat denser

patch of bush that had scarcely been entered by the flying Isigqosa,

perhaps because here the banks of the river were very steep and

difficult; also, between them its waters ran swiftly, for this was above

the drift.

For a while we went on in safety, then suddenly I heard a noise. A great

man plunged past me, breaking through the bush like a buffalo, and came

to a halt upon a rock which overhung the Tugela, for the floods had

eaten away the soil beneath.