Swallow: A Tale of the Great TrekHaggard, H. Rider (Henry Rider)
History
Swallow: A Tale of the Great Trek
Haggard, H. Rider (Henry Rider)
Historical fiction; South Africa -- History -- Great Trek, 1836-1840 -- Fiction; Transvaal (South Africa) -- Fiction
I remember that we women were moulding bullets when the men rode in,
and very thankful we were to find that not one of them was even
wounded. While they ate something we washed out their guns, and at
intervals near the places where each man must stand behind the waggons
we piled little heaps of powder and bullets upon buckskins and pieces
of canvas laid on the ground; also we did all we could to strengthen
our defences still further by binding ox-hides over the waggon wheels
and thrusting in more thorns between them.
Then, as the enemy was still preparing to attack us, the Heer Celliers
called us together, and there in the laager, while all knelt around
him, even to the smallest child, he put up a prayer to God asking that
we might be forgiven our sins, and that He would look upon us and
protect us in our great need.
It was a strange sight. There we all knelt in the quiet sunshine while
he prayed in an earnest voice, and we followed his words with our
hearts, every one of us, men and women, holding guns or axes in our
hands. Never had human beings more need for prayer, for through the
cracks between the waggons we could see Moselikatse’s Zulus, six or
seven thousand of them, forming themselves into three bodies to rush
upon us and murder us, and that was a dreadful sight for fifty or sixty
people, of whom some were little children.
When we had finished praying, husbands and wives and parents and
children kissed each other, and then the little ones and some of the
women who were sick or aged were put behind the seven waggons in the
centre of the laager, round which were tied the horses, while the rest
of us went to our stations, men and women together. I stood behind Jan
and Ralph, who fought side by side, and, assisted by a girl of fourteen
years of age, loaded their spare guns. Now there was a great silence in
the camp, and suddenly in the silence, Jan, who was looking through his
loophole, whispered:
“Allemachter! here they come.”
And come they did, with a rush and a roar from three sides at once,
while men drew in their breath and set their faces for the struggle.
Still no one fired, for the order was that we were to save our powder
until Celliers let off his gun. Already the savages were within thirty
paces of us, a countless mass of men packed like sheep in a kraal,
their fierce eyes shewing white as ivory in the sunlight, their cruel
spears quivering in their hands, when the signal was given and every
gun, some loaded with slugs and some with bullets, was discharged
point-blank into the thick of them.
Over they rolled by dozens, but that did not stop the rest, who, in
spite of our pitiless fire, rushed up to the waggons and gripped them
with their hands, striving to drag them apart, till the whole line of
them rocked and surged and creaked like boats upon the sea, while the
air grew thick with smoke rising straight up towards the sky, and
through the smoke assegais flashed as thick as rain.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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