As those who read this history will probably long ago have gathered,I am,to be honest,a bit of a coward,and certainly in no way given to fighting,though,somehow,it has often been my lot to get into unpleasant positions,and to be obliged to shed man's blood.But I have always hated it,and kept my own blood as undiminished in quantity as possible,sometimes by a judicious use of my heels.At this moment,however,for the first time in my life,I felt my bosom burn with martial ardor.War-like fragments from the "Ingoldsby Legends,"together with numbers of sanguinary verses from the Old Testament,sprang up in my brain like mushrooms in the dark;my blood,which hitherto had been half-frozen with horror,went beating through my veins,and there came upon me a savage desire to kill and spare not.I glanced round at the serried ranks of warriors behind us,and somehow,all in an instant,began to wonder if my face looked like theirs.There they stood,their heads craned forward over their shields,the hands twitching,the lips apart,the fierce features instinct with the hungry lust of battle,and in the eyes a look like the glare of a bloodhound when he sights his quarry.
Only Ignosi's heart seemed,to judge from his comparative self-possession,to all appearance,to beat as calmly as ever beneath his leopard-skin cloak,though even he still kept on grinding his teeth.I could stand it no longer.
"Are we to stand here till we put out roots,Umbopa -Ignosi,I mean -while Twala swallows our brothers yonder?"I asked;"Nay,Macumazahn,"was the answer;"see,now is the ripe moment;let us pluck it."
As he spoke a fresh regiment rushed past the ring upon the little mound,and,wheeling round,attacked it from the hither side.
'Then,lifting his battle-axe,Ignosi gave the signal to advance,and,raising the Kukuana battle-cry,the Buffaloes charged home with a rush like the rush of the sea.
What followed immediately on this it is out of my power to tell.
All I can remember is a wild yet ordered rushing,that seemed to shake the ground;a sudden change of front and forming up on the part of the regiment against which the charge was directed;then the awful shock,a dull roar of voices,and a continuous flashing of spears,seen through a red mist of blood.
When my mind cleared I found.myself standing inside the remnant of the Grays near the top of the mound,and just behind no less a person than Sir Henry himself.How I got there I had,at the moment,no idea,but Sir Henry afterwards told me that I was borne up by the first furious charge of the Buffaloes almost to his feet,and then left,as they in turn were pressed back.Thereon he dashed out of the circle and dragged me into it.
As for the fight that followed,who can describe it?Again and again the multitudes surged up against our momentarily lessening circle,and again and again we beat them back.
"The stubborn spearsmen still made good The dark impenetrable wood;Each stepping where his comrade stood The instant that he fell,"as I think the "Ingoldsby Legends"beautifully puts it.
It was a splendid thing to see those brave battalions come on time.after time over the barriers of their dead,sometimes holding corpses before them to receive our spear-thrusts,only to leave their own corpses to swell the rising piles.It was a gallant sight to see that sturdy old warrior,Infadoos,as cool as though he were on parade,shouting out orders,taunts,and even jests,to keep up the spirit of his few remaining men,and then,as each charge rolled up,stepping forward to wherever the fighting was thickest,to bear his share in repelling it.And yet more gallant was the vision of Sir Henry,whose ostrich plumes had been torn off by a spear-stroke,so that his long yellow hair streamed out in the breeze behind him.
There he stood,the great Dane,for he was nothing else,his hands,his axe,and his armor all red with blood,and none could live before his stroke.Time after time I saw it come sweeping down,as some great warrior ventured to give him battle,and as he struck he shouted,"Oh-hoy!O-hoy!"like his Bersekir forefathers,and the blow went crashing through shield and spear,through headdress,hair,and skull,till at last none would of their own will come near the great white "tagati"(wizard),who killed and failed not.
But suddenly there rose a cry of "Twala,y'Twala "and out of the press sprang forward none other than the gigantic one-eyed king himself,also armed with battle-axe and shield,and clad in chain armor.
"Where art thou,Incubu,thou white man,who slew Scragga,my son -see if thou canst kill me!"he shouted,and at the same time hurled a tolla straight at Sir Henry,who,fortunately,saw it coming,and caught it on his shield,which transfixed it,remaining wedged in the iron plate behind the hide.
Then with a cry,Twala sprang forward straight at him,and with his battle-axe struck him such a blow upon the shield that the mere force and shock of it brought Sir Henry,strong man as he was,down upon his knees.
But at the time the matter went no further,for at that instant there rose from the regiments pressing round us something like a shout of dismay,and on looking up I saw the cause.
To the right and to the left the plain was alive with the plumes of charging warriors.The outflanking squadrons had come to our relief.
The time could not have been better chosen.All Twala's army had,as Ignosi had predicted would be the case,fixed their attention on the bloody struggle which was raging round the remnant of the Grays and the Buffaloes,who were now carrying on a battle of their own at a little distance,which two regiments had formed the chest of our army.It was not until the horns were about to close upon them that they had dreamed of their approach.
And now,before they could even assume a proper formation for defence,the outflanking Impis had leaped,like greyhounds,on their flanks.
