ent back to the camp for more ammunition, but
none arrived, Heaven knows why. My own belief is that the
reserve cartridges were packed away in boxes and could not be got
at. At last our supply began to run short, so there was nothing
to be done except retreat upon the camp which was perhaps half a
mile behind us.

Taking advantage of a pause in the Zulu advance which had lain
down while waiting for reserves, Colonel Durnford ordered a
retirement that was carried out very well. Up to that time we
had lost only quite a few men, for the Zulu fire was wild and
high and they had not been able to get at us with the assegai.
As we rode towards the mount I observed that firing was going on
in all directions, especially on the nek that connected it with
the Nqutu range where Captain Shepstone and his mounted Basutos
were wiped out while trying to hold back the Zulu right horn.
The guns, too, were firing heavily and doing great execution.

After this all grew confused. Colonel Durnford gave orders to
certain officers who came up to him, Captain Essex was one and
Lieutenant Cochrane another. Then his force made for their
wagons to get more ammunition. I kept near to the Colonel and a
while later found myself with him and a large, mixed body of men
a little to the right of the nek which we had crossed in our
advance from the river. Not long afterwards there was a cry of
"The Zulus are getting round us!" and looking to the left I saw
them pouring in hundreds across the ridge that joins Isandhlwana
Mountain to the Nqutu Range. Also they were advancing straight
on to the camp.

Then the rout began. Already the native auxiliaries were
slipping away and now the others followed. Of course this battle
was but a small affair, yet I think that few have been more
terrible, at any rate in modern times. The aspect of those
plumed and shielded Zulus as they charged, shouting their
war-cries and waving their spears, was awesome. They were mown
down in hundreds by the Martini fire, but still they came on, and
I knew that the game was up. A maddened horde of fugitives,
mostly natives, began to flow past us over the nek, making for
what was afterwards called Fugitives' Drift, nine miles away, and
with them went white soldiers, some mounted, some on foot.
Mingled with all these people, following them, on either side of
them, rushed Zulus, stabbing as they ran. Other groups of
soldiers formed themselves into rough squares, on whic