The General and staff hurried down to Pietermaritzburg _viâ_ Helpmakaar, while the garrison at Rorke’s Drift was left in utter confusion,[147] as testified by many of those present at the time. No one appeared responsible for anything that might happen, and the result was one disgraceful to our English name, and to all concerned. A few Zulu prisoners had been taken by our troops—some the day before, others previous to the disaster at Isandhlwana, and these prisoners were put to death in cold blood at Rorke’s Drift. It was intended to set them free, and they were told to run for their lives, but they were shot down and killed, within sight and sound of the whole force. An eye-witness—an officer—described the affair to the present writer, saying that the men whom _he_ saw killed numbered “not more than seven, nor less than five.” He said that he was standing with others in the camp, and hearing shots close behind him, he turned, and saw the prisoners in question in the act of falling beneath the shots and stabs of a party of our men.[148] The latter, indeed, were men belonging to the Native Contingent, but they were supposed to be under white control, and should not have been able to obtain possession of the prisoners under any circumstances. Scenes like these were not likely to impress the savages with whom we were dealing with our merciful and Christian qualities, nor to improve the chances of European prisoners who might fall into their hands during the campaign. As soon as order was a little restored, the cover round the post of Rorke’s Drift was cleared away, barricades built, the thatched roof taken off the house, and the four guns placed in position within the enclosure. The General and staff reached Pietermaritzburg early on January 26th. There, as everywhere else, panic reigned, and gloom spread over all. From the city especially many a son and brother had gone out to fall upon that fatal day, and grief was mingled there with terror for what might come next. It was long before any accurate information could be gained as to what had happened, and who had fallen; and, owing to the hurried retreat of No. 3 Column from Isandhlwana before daybreak on the 23rd, the great burden of uncertainty was laid upon many heavy hearts both upon the spot and at home in England. At first all who had had friends at the camp hoped they might be amongst the saved, since it was known that some had escaped by “The Fugitives’ Drift,” a spot some five miles from Rorke’s Drift, where those flying from Isandhlwana crossed the river; and day by day the lists of killed and missing appeared with the names gradually removed from the latter to the former. Well had an hour’s daylight been spent that morning to spare the uncertainty that hung over many an English and South African home for days and weeks, and even months.