Warrior

Hervey galloped hard for the picket. In their determined sharpshooting they had not seen the peril on their flanks. 'Up, Rifles! Up! Up!' he bellowed hoarsely, as Ngwadi's men rushed to counter the veterans.

He managed somehow to get them to their feet. And then as they saw the trap they ran like the wind.

He only managed to rally them at the entrance to the kraal.

'Hervey, what happened there?' barked Somervile, now atop his horse.

'A deuced clever ruse. I should have seen it earlier. This ground is the devil!'

Corporal Cox had got his riflemen formed again, directing their fire on Mbopa's veterans, though the fight with Ngwadi's men was so entangled as to be a tricky thing for bullets.

'Those fellows, the Rifles: they looked as if they'd run all morning!' gasped Somervile, his excited gelding pulling defiantly.

'Oh, they all do that at some time or other,' replied Hervey, impatiently, returning his sabre and trying to make out where was Ngwadi. 'The point is whether or not they'll rally. And they have. What are you doing?'

'Hervey, I can't sit on my backside while—'

But out from the kraal burst the rest of Ngwadi's warriors, eager for the fray.

'Christ! Get back! Get back!' yelled Hervey, turning his horse to try to halt them. 'Get back, damn you! Get back, I say!'

Even had he shouted in perfect Zulu they were in no mind to hear. There was battle without, their chief was in the midst of it, and no warrior could remain inside with his honour intact.

'I must see what they do!' declared Somervile, breathily.

'No, Somervile, I beg you would remain here. We may very well have to gallop for it. Where's Pampata?'

'I . . .'

Hervey cursed, and reined about.

Corporal French was there, his coverman once more, and exactly where a coverman ought to be, except that he had not been given much chance of it these past days. 'Corp' French, detail a dragoon to guard the Zulu woman!'

'Which Zulu woman, Colonel?'

'Pampata, damn it!'

French shook his head. 'Sir, I . . .'

Hervey realized. 'Captain Fairbrother knows.'

'Sir!'

French made back into the kraal.

Hervey now turned to see Ngwadi's men at last getting the better of the veterans – or at least holding them off. 'Corporal Cox, stand ready to retake your ground.'

'Sir!'

'I think, Somervile, that we may allow ourselves a little satisfaction,' said Hervey, his expression now eased.

'Not nearly as many of them as we feared,' agreed his old friend.

But scarcely had Hervey allowed himself that satisfaction when Mbopa revealed another hand. Half a mile to their right, on a low, grassy hill, a long line of warriors stood up, like the Guards at Waterloo, and let out a chilling Huzu-u-u! which carried to the kraal as if by a hundred speaking trumpets.

'The devil!' spat Hervey. 'What's his game?'

Corporal Cox at once had his riflemen form right to open a harassing fire.

'You mean why does he divide his force so?' asked Somervile, his gelding beginning to paw the ground impatiently.

'Yes. He showed five hundred to begin with, and then another hundred at least in that ruse to outflank the picket – and two hundred yonder, now. More than enough to break into the kraal if he used them all together.'

'Perhaps he fears our firearms?'

Hervey nodded, if uncertainly. 'He acts with caution; that much seems true. I wasn't of a mind to put great store by it, but those herd boys' "thousand warriors" looks not so wide of the mark. And if they're exactly correct, there's another two hundred or so which Mbopa's yet to commit.'

The riflemen began taking a toll, but at half a mile it was not heavy.

'A few whiffs of grapeshot would serve,' said Hervey, coldly, searching with his telescope for what he could learn of these newshown warriors.

The line began advancing.

'I perceive another ploy!' Hervey looked about, weighing his options. The main body of Zulus, four or five hundred, stood motionless two furlongs off. What was left of the attempt to envelop the picket – twenty or so warriors – were making away as fast as they could, pursued by some of Ngwadi's men, although the chief had rallied the bulk of them in good order and was drawing them up to face the main body. There, things would be evenly matched. On the right, however, two hundred more of Mbopa's warriors would be closing with them in the space of ten minutes. It was not as he had wanted it – by far the greater part of the defenders' strength now outside the kraal, and perhaps two hundred more of Mbopa's men yet to show. How would Mbopa use them?

The left flank was open; unwatched, even. He must at least post a couple of men to cover it. He could see that, inside the kraal, Welsh had fifty or so of Ngwadi's men in hand (and he would need them to guard the walls, so to speak), and the twenty dragoons stood ready. He had not wanted to show them until the last moment, when the sudden appearance of horses and sabres – and if necessary the carbine fire – would have their greatest effect. But the left flank . . .

'What to do, Hervey?' Fairbrother had come to his side, unbidden. He took in the situation at a glance.

Hervey was ever glad of his friend's knack of placing himself to advantage. 'See those fellows yonder?' He pointed to the advancing line.

Fairbrother nodded. It was all he needed.

Hervey would have directed a couple of dragoons to the left flank, but with only twenty, he decided on riflemen. 'Corporal Cox!'

'Sir!'

'Capital shooting. The dragoons will front them now. Keep up a supporting fire, but have two men go onto yonder flank' (he indicated the left) 'and keep a watch there.'

'Sir!'

'What would you have me do, Hervey?' demanded Somervile, his face red with the exertion of keeping his increasingly hard-to-hold gelding in hand.

In truth, Hervey was not much concerned what his old friend did, as long as he kept at arm's length from trouble. He sighed. 'Since you will not retire into the kraal—'

'I won't skulk in there while everyone else stands to arms out here! Infamous example!'

Hervey had to check his instinct to say that it would make not the slightest difference to any of them what example he set. 'Since you will not accept my principal advice, I must ask that you remain in this position and be ready at any moment to quit the place altogether.'

But Somervile was not to be persuaded. He ever liked the smell of powder and the shout of the captains, and, besides, the little prominence not a hundred yards to their left afforded as good a line of escape as it did a place of observation. He dug his spurs into his gelding's flanks.

Hervey cursed foully. He would now have to detach a dragoon as coverman. He turned to see how Fairbrother and the quarter troop were faring.

Thank God! They were mounted and making to leave as if riding out of barracks for exercise.