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
Slowly the black snake-like line pressed forward through the white
foam, never heeding the storm of spears that slew continually, till the
point of it was well within the third line of walls. Then the captain,
who by some chance had escaped, called an order to those behind him,
and the head of the double line leapt off the ridge of rock into deep
water, and swimming with their feet, but still gripping with their
hands, suffered themselves to be swung round by the current towards the
bank, twenty yards away. Here some rocks jutted out, and these, after a
great struggle, they were able to grasp and hold.
Then followed what Suzanne, who was watching from above, afterwards
declared to be the strangest sight she had ever seen, for these men,
who swung to and fro in the current, anchored, as it were, to the ridge
and the bank, made of their living bodies a bridge for their fellows.
Yes, their companions ran and crawled over them, springing from
shoulder to shoulder, and driving their heads beneath the water with
the push of their clinging feet. Half-drowned and almost torn in two as
they were, still they held on till enough men were safe on shore to
finish the fray. For when the Umpondwana saw that the Zulus had won the
bank they did not stay to kill them while they landed, as might easily
have been done; no, dragging Sihamba with them, they ran into the gorge
leading to the flat top of the mountain, and blocked it with great
stones that were ready. And so it came about that the Zulus won this
fight, though with great loss to themselves, and cut off the Umpondwana
from their main supply of water.
But though they had won the fight they had not won the mountain. After
resting a while they began the work of storming the narrow gorge that
led upwards to the tableland, for this gorge was its only gate, and at
first were suffered to pull down or climb over the walls which were
built across it with but little resistance. Soon, however, they found
out the reason of this, for when a number of them were in the gorge
stones began to roll upon them from the edges of the cliffs above,
crushing the life out of many, so that presently they were driven back
to the head of the river. Afterwards they searched long and earnestly
but could find no other path by which to attack, for there was none.
“Well,” said the Zulu captain, “it seems that we must fight the fight
of ‘sit-down,’ and since these rock-rabbits will not let us come to
them we must wait till they come to us to ask for water.”
So they waited for seven whole days, setting guards about the mountain
in case there should be secret ways of egress of which they knew
nothing.
When they reached the tableland Sihamba spoke words so bitter to her
councillors and captains that some of them stopped their ears that they
might hear no more, while others answered that they could do nothing
against men who walked upon the boiling waters.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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