was entirely blocked; he also brought an order that"Jamieson's Horse" should be sent forward at once, to retake the waggonsand hold the enemy in check until the road had been cleared.
Anxious to reach the scene of the disaster without a moment's delay, andbeing well aware that if he advanced along the road he must necessarilymeet with more or less hindrance, Captain Jamieson wheeled the corps tothe left, and started off at a hand-gallop across country until he lostsight of the convoy; when he changed direction to the right and led hismen over some broken ground, which ran almost parallel to, and waswithin easy rifle-shot of the road. They had advanced about three partsof a mile over this ground, and were within half that distance of thecaptured waggons--which were now completely surrounded by hundreds ofthe enemy--when Frank Jamieson, who was riding at the head of theleading troop, espied--away to the left front--a small party of Caffresdriving off the bullock teams into the mountains. He at once pointedthem out to his father, who ordered him to follow in pursuit withfifteen men, and do his best to recover the teams and bring them back asquickly as possible.
"Without them," said the captain, "I do not see how we can take thewaggons on; for I heard Thompson say that he had no spare draughtcattle."
As soon as Frank had ridden off, Captain Jamieson and the remainder ofthe corps galloped onwards, and--the nature of the ground and the "dinof battle" favouring them--they approached within a couple of hundredyards of the baggage-train without attracting attention; for those ofthe enemy who were not actually engaged with either the advance-guard orescorts, were busily employed plundering the waggons. Jamieson'svolunteers were thus enabled to deliver a telling volley, and thencharge down on the Caffres before the latter were thoroughly alive tothe fact that they were being attacked from that quarter; and soimpetuous was this charge, that the little band rode right through thedense masses of the enemy up to the waggons without losing a single manor horse. The next minute the Caffres, recovering from their surprise,closed in upon the gallant horsemen, and for a little while there wassome desperate hand-to-hand fighting, in which, however, Jamieson andhis men at first held their own. But the Caffres outnumbered themtwenty to one, and, moreover, were excited to such a pitch of fury thatthey were utterly reckless of their lives; and as fast as one was cutdown or shot, half a dozen others would press forward to take his place;many, too, actually crawled on all-fours amongst the plunging horses,and thrust their assegais again and again into the poor brutes' bellies,and so in a short time nearly one-third of the volunteers weredismounted, and assegaied before they could disengage themselves fromtheir dead chargers. And now the corps got broken up into groups, andthe end soon came.
Amongst the first who had their horses killed, were Captain Jamieson,young Flinders, and Sergeant-major Keown; they, however, at the time,escaped personal injury, and so continued to fight on foot until theyfound themselves separated from their comrades, and standing at bay withtheir backs against a waggon.
Three worthier representatives of our glorious triune kingdom neverfaced their sovereign's foes!
On the left of the "dauntless three" stood the fine old Scotchman, cooland calm as if at sword-play; his grey head bare, his tall commandingfigure reared to the full height, his long cavalry sabre red with theblood of his enemies. Next to him was our young hero, a trifle lesscollected than his veteran chief, but not a whit less fearless; couldany of his former school-fellows have beheld Tom Flinders at thatmoment, they would have rested content that the honour of Rugby was safein his hands! Tom had lost his sword when his horse was killed, and hewas now defending himself with an assegai snatched from an enemy's hand.
Then on the right--close beside his master's son--stood that brave andhonest son of "Ould Erin," Patrick Keown, armed with an old-patterndragoon sabre, which he had picked up cheap in some Cape Town store, andhad had sharpened until its edge was as keen as that of a scythe.Patrick Keown was a splendid swordsman (he had been sergeant-instructorof fencing to the C.M.E.), and not a few Caffres had fallen beneath hisstalwart arm during the fray; but, alas! that good right arm now hungpowerless--for an assegai had pierced it through and through, and poorPatrick's coat-sleeve was literally saturated with the crimson streamthat gushed from the wound--and it was his _left_ hand that was clenchedwithin the basket hilt. Round these devoted men was gathered a mob ofyelling savages, who thirsted for their blood, yet hesitated to comewithin reach of their formidable weapons.
But it was impossible that such an unequal contest could last for morethan a few minutes.
Tom Flinders was the first of the trio who fell. Struck on the head bya jagged piece of rock, hurled by one of the infuriated Caffres, Tomdropped as if shot; and rolling between the wheels of the waggon laymotionless on his face--to all appearance dead.
Almost at the same moment Captain Jamieson received a ghastly wound inthe breast, and sinking lifeless to the bloodstained ground wasinstantly despatched by his ruthless assailants. Hard fate his, poorold man! to have fought through many a hotly-contested action with"foemen worthy of his steel;" to have survived the glorious perils ofthe Peninsula campaigns; and then at last to have fallen by the hand ofa South African savage!
When Sergeant-major Keown saw that his chief and his beloved master'sson were both down, he gave utterance to a bitter cry of mingled rageand sorrow, and with uplifted sword rushed madly into the very midst ofthe exultant foe. Once--twice--thrice did his sabre flash in the sun,and each time that it descended a Caffre "bit the dust." Then acrushing blow from a knobkerrie--delivered from behind--brought thebrave Irishman on his knees; he staggered up, and wiping away the bloodthat, streaming down his face, obscured his vision, he shortened hissword and thrust at the nearest Caffre, driving the keen point deep intohis side; but the next moment a dozen assegais were plunged into PatrickKeown's body, and he fell to rise no more.
A few of the ill-fated corps succeeded in hewing themselves a paththrough the dense masses of the enemy, and rode back to the rear-guard;whilst one or two--of whom more anon--were taken prisoners; but themajority of those who took part in the fatal charge were slainfighting--like their heroic commander and his sergeant-major--to thevery last gasp. The volunteers who escaped to tell the woeful tale wereattached for the rest of the day to a troop of the Cape Mounted Rifles,and with them fought their way across the Keiskamma, and thence on toChumie Hoek; where, late that same evening, they were joined by FrankJamieson's party.
Frank's grief on hearing that his father and Tom Flinders were amongstthe slain was very great, and he would certainly have gone forth aloneto search for their bodies, had not the brigadier given him a peremptoryorder to remain in camp; declaring that--being one of Captain Jamieson'soldest friends--he would not hear of the young man throwing away hislife to no purpose.
The "General Order" issued on the evening of the 18th, informed theweary soldiers and Burgher troops that it was the brigadier's intentionto quit Chumie Hoek on the morrow, and march with his entire force and"impedimenta" to the mission station at Block Drift. This was anythingbut welcome news to the poor fellows, who sorely needed rest after thefatigues they had undergone, and had looked forward to remaining quietat least a clear day, instead of only a few short hours; nor were theypermitted to enjoy these few hours undisturbed, for during the nightthey had repeatedly to stand to their arms in order to repel the attackswhich the enemy made on the camp. Then when morning dawned there wasevery indication of another day's desperate fighting; the mountainsabove the camp being alive with the enemy, whilst masses of theirmounted warriors had assembled on the lower heights of the Chumie range.
As Colonel Somerset's advance-guard marched from the camping ground, theCaffres moved down from the mountains in vast numbers, extendingthemselves all along the line of route; and when the column approachedthe bushy country towards Block Drift, they attacked it in front,centre, and rear.
Somerset immediately gave orders for the Royal Artillery to come intoaction, and the guns opening with shell and canister, quickly drove theenemy back. W
hen the head of the column neared the mission station,Colonel Somerset rode forward with his advance-guard and two guns, andtaking possession of the ford of the Chumie River, placed the guns inposition, and opened a hot fire upon the Caffres; who were stillhovering round the flanks and rear of the baggage-train--attacking thewaggons whenever an opportunity occurred.
About two and a half miles from Block Drift the enemy were stronglyposted on a sugar-loaf, bush-clad hill, at the base of which the roadpassed; here there was some severe fighting, and the rear of the columnwas at one time very hard pressed. To do the Caffres justice, it mustbe confessed that they exhibited undeniable courage, and returned againand again to the attack; and that in the face of a destructive artilleryand musketry fire, such as might well have daunted even European troops.The passage of the Chumie River was not