Only one thing could avert an
absolute catastrophe, and that was the appearance of a hero who
would accept certain death in order to warn his comrades.
Such a
man rode by the wagons - though, unhappily, in the stress and rush
of the moment there is no certainty as to his name or rank. We only
know that one was found brave enough to fire his revolver in the
face of certain death. The outburst of firing which answered his
shot was the sequel which saved the column. Not often is it given
to a man to die so choice a death as that of this nameless soldier.
But the detachment was already so placed that nothing could save it
from heavy loss. The wagons had all passed but nine, and the
leading battery of artillery was at the very edge of the donga.
Nothing is so helpless as a limbered-up battery. In an instant the
teams were shot down and the gunners were made prisoners. A
terrific fire burst at the same instant upon Roberts's Horse, who
were abreast of the guns. 'Files a bout! gallop!' yelled Colonel
Dawson, and by his exertions and those of Major Pack-Beresford the
corps was extricated and reformed some hundreds of yards further
off. But the loss of horses and men was heavy. Major Pack-Beresford
and other officers were shot down, and every unhorsed man remained
necessarily as a prisoner under the very muzzles of the riflemen in
the donga.
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