Rorke's Drift

by Adrian Greaves

  The fatigued volunteers had little enthusiasm left to fight and began to take their horses and drift away. When Essex realized that his force was melting away he threatened to shoot all the horses to stop further desertions, which lowered morale still further. Two of the men who had already ridden away were to become figures of controversy. Lieutenant Higginson of the NNC had been with both Melvill and Coghill as they had clung to the rock in the Buffalo river. On reaching the bank he had promised to fetch horses for the other two. Instead, once he had found a mount, he had ridden off to safety. At the same time Captain Stephenson of the NNC had deserted from Rorke’s Drift as the Zulus were about to attack; he had paused at Helpmekaar before riding off, only to be later arrested, court-martialled and dismissed the service.1

  Lieutenant Curling RA who had, alone, survived the front line at Isandlwana and escaped to Helpmekaar wrote to his mother on 30 January, mentioning that life at Helpmekaar was grim. ‘We have 30 sick and wounded men inside and several typhoid patients who however are left in a tent outside where of course they will at once be killed if we are attacked’. In the aftermath of Isandlwana, there was a climate of suspicion and paranoia about any native caught near either Rorke’s Drift or Helpmekaar. On a visit to Rorke’s Drift Curling had seen a Zulu hanging from a tree and several natives met a similar fate at Helpmekaar, even though they were probably entirely innocent. On 2 February Curling wrote:

  What is going to happen to us, no one knows. We have made a strong entrenchment and are pretty safe even should we be attacked. The only thing we are afraid of is sickness. There are 50 sick and wounded already who are jammed up at night in the fort. The smell is terrible, 800 men cooped up in so small a place. Food, fortunately, is plentiful and we have a three months supply. All spys [sic] taken now are shot: we have disposed of three or four already. Formally [i.e. formerly], they were allowed anywhere and our disaster is a great extent due to their accurate information of the General’s movements. What excitement this will cause in England and what indignation.

  The suggestion that a Zulu spy network was the cause of Chelmsford’s defeat was ludicrous and indicative of the wild theories and rumours circulating around the British camps. Curling was right, though, about the shock and outrage with which the news of the disaster was received in Britain.

  Following the British defeat at Isandlwana, Lord Chelmsford paused at Helpmekaar long enough to convene a Court of Enquiry. It consisted of those senior officers then at Helpmekaar and commenced its deliberations five days later on 27 January 1879. The court president was Colonel F.C. Hassard with Lieutenant Colonel Law RA and Lieutenant Colonel Harness RA as court members. The nature of the enquiry was extraordinary when compared with standard military procedures; their brief was merely to ‘enquire into the loss of the camp’ at Isandlwana. Although a number of officers and men had been required to make statements after their escape from Isandlwana, the court recorded only the evidence of Majors Clery and Crealock, Captains Essex, Gardner and Cochrane, Lieutenants Curling and Smith-Dorrien and NNC Captain Nourse. It was subsequently argued, within the army and the press, both in the United Kingdom and South Africa, that insufficient evidence was heard, in order to divert the blame away from Chelmsford. Harness was later to defend himself by stating, ‘it seemed to me useless to record statements hardly bearing on the loss of the camp but giving doubtful particulars of small incidents more or less ghastly in their nature’. The final line of his report indicated his defensive attitude. ‘The duty of the Court was to sift the evidence and record what was of value: if it was simply to take down a mass of statements the court might as well have been composed of three subalterns or three clerks’.

  As author Ian Knight wrote, ‘Of course, the modern historian is left to ponder by what criteria Harness decided which statements were unreliable and worthless.’ A moot point indeed.2

  It was a transparent exercise and, at best, Harness saw the Court of Enquiry as a means of obtaining information about the defeat for Chelmsford. However, it served no real purpose apart from giving Chelmsford time to prepare his explanatory speech before he returned to England to present his case before the awaiting press and Parliament. The initial observations of the court certainly enabled the blame for the British defeat to be squarely laid upon the NNC and Colonel Durnford. At the enquiry, Colonel Crealock deliberately gave false evidence stating that he had ordered Durnford, on behalf of Chelmsford, to take command of the camp; this persuasive evidence totally exonerated Chelmsford in the eyes of the enquiry. Durnford was convenient as a scapegoat: he was dead; furthermore, he was not from a respected infantry regiment of the line. In addition, and it would become the subject of much subsequent debate, he was the senior officer present. The finding of the court conveniently accepted, on Crealock’s false evidence, that Durnford had been in charge, that there had been a defeat, and accordingly highlighted Durnford’s various deficiencies to the point that the deputy adjutant general, Colonel Bellairs, forwarded the court’s findings to Lord Chelmsford with the following observation:

  From the statements made to the Court, it may be gathered that the cause of the reverse suffered at Isandhlwana was that Col. Durnford, as senior officer, overruled the orders which Lt. Col. Pulleine had received to defend the camp, and directed that the troops should be moved into the open, in support of the Native Contingent which he had brought up and which was engaging the enemy.

  Not content with blaming Durnford, Chelmsford’s staff then began focusing their attention onto Colonel Glyn, Chelmsford’s second in command, now isolated from any news at Rorke’s Drift. While the alienated Glyn was suffering both mentally and physically, Lord Chelmsford and his followers were attempting to play down their personal roles in the disaster. In a subtle piece of responsibility shifting, Chelmsford stated that ‘Colonel Glyn was solely responsible’ and, ‘that Colonel Glyn fully and explicitly accepted this responsibility cannot, however, affect the ultimate responsibility of the General-in-Command’. This attempt to share the blame with Glyn rang hollow, as it was generally known that Glyn had little say in matters where Chelmsford gave the orders. Chelmsford’s staff contributed to the growing controversy by saying that it was Glyn’s failure to entrench the camp that caused it to be overrun. They deemed that, as he was commander of the Centre Column, the blame should be firmly laid at his door. Glyn was sent a number of official memoranda requiring him to account for his interpretation of orders relating to the camp at Isandlwana. Glyn recognized the possible entrapment and returned the memoranda, unanswered but with the comment, ‘Odd the general asking me to tell him what he knows more than I do’. Glyn finally accepted all responsibility for details, but declined to admit any responsibility for the movement of any portion of troops in or out of camp. The acrimony continued with Chelmsford even suggesting that it was Glyn’s duty to protest at any decisions with which he did not agree. Glyn maintained his position by stating that it was his duty to obey his commander’s orders. Little was said beyond this point; with considerable dignity, Glyn remained silent and loyal to his general but Mrs Glyn robustly defended her husband in the coming months.

  There was no defence for the NNC and initially there was no defence for Durnford. Chelmsford finally damned Durnford’s reputation in his speech to the House of Lords on 19 August 1880. Chelmsford stated that ‘in the final analysis, it was Durnford’s disregard of orders that had brought about its [the camp’s] destruction’. It was thereafter widely believed that Durnford had failed to assume command of the camp from the subordinate Pulleine and had then irresponsibly taken his men off to chase some Zulus.3

  With regard to the departure from Rorke’s Drift by Major Spalding, little that was sympathetic was ever said.4 Many believed that he would automatically have been awarded the Victoria Cross as the commanding officer, if only he had remained at his post. After all, there was no valid reason for him personally to ride to Helpmekaar especially as Chard had already informed him that the Zulus were possibly approaching the po
sition; and there were several underemployed officers who could easily have undertaken the task. It was also generally believed that, on his return, having reached a point less than 3 miles from the beleaguered mission station, Spalding and the two companies of the 24th could easily have pressed on to relieve Rorke’s Drift. Perhaps it was to save him from embarrassment that no official questions were asked although Major Clery came straight to the point in one of his letters home. He wrote from Helpmekaar on 13 April: ‘Spalding is utterly worthless, so that the General was – as regards an opinion on any subject – practically without an adjutant or quarter-master’. As well as being the officer commanding Rorke’s Drift, Spalding was also the deputy assistant adjutant and quartermaster general. Spalding nevertheless submitted a full report detailing his actions on the day. He wrote:

  1 At 2 p.m. on the 22nd instant I left Rorke’s Drift for Helpmakaar, leaving a second horse at Varmaaks. My intention was to bring up Captain Rainforth’s company, 1st Battalion 24th Regiment, to protect the ponts. Lieutenant Chard, R.E., on returning from the camp, Isandula, had observed Zulus on the neighbouring heights. I thought they might make a dash for the ponts during the night.

  2 Between Varmaaks and Helpmakaar, where I arrived 3.45 p.m., I met two companies 1st Battalion 24th Regiment under Major Upcher; on returning from Helpmakaar, I met Major Upcher, who informed me of the disaster at Isandula.

  3 We advanced as far as Varmaaks with the troops. I then pushed on to the foot of the Berg, accompanied by Mr. Dickson, of the Buffalo Border Guard. The road was covered with fugitives, chiefly Basutos and people in civilians’ clothes, but there were one or two mounted infantry. Several of these I ordered to accompany me, but all except two, slipped away when my back was turned. My object was to ascertain whether the post at Rorke’s Drift still held out. In this case I should have sent word to Major Upcher to advance and endeavour to throw myself into it.

  4 But every single white fugitive asserted that the mission house was captured; and at about three miles from the same I came across a body of Zulus in extended order across the road. They were 50 yards off; a deep donga was behind them, capable of concealing a large force. They threw out flankers as if to surround the party.

  5 On reaching the summit of a hill from which the mission house is visible it was observed to be in flames; this confirmed the statement of the fugitives, that the post had been captured. This being the case it was determined to save, if possible, Helpmakaar and its depot of stores.

  6 It was growing dusk; the oxen had already had a long trek; the hill had to be re-ascended, and the heights were said to be lined with Zulus. I examined them with my glass, but could not observe the enemy. There may have been a few detached parties, however, as these were observed by competent witnesses. No attack was made by them, and the column reached Helpmakaar by 9 p.m., when waggon laager was formed around the commissariat stores. Colonel Hassard, R.E., met us half-way up the Berg, and took over command from me.

  7 The following morning a dense fog prevailed. About 9 a.m. a note arrived from Lieutenant Chard, R.E., stating that Rorke’s Drift still held out, and begging for assistance. It was considered imprudent to risk the safety of Helpmakaar by denuding it of its garrison, and probable that Rorke’s Drift had already been relieved by the column under the General. It was determined to push down to the drift some mounted men to gather intelligence. I was in command. A short distance from Helpmakaar Mr. Fynn was met, who communicated the fact that the General’s Column had relieved Rorke’s Drift. At the top of the Berg I met Lieutenant-Colonel Russell, who confirmed the news. At about noon I reached Rorke’s Drift and reported myself to the General.

  (Signed) H.S. SPALDING,

  Major, D.A.A.G.

  While Chelmsford pondered the political implications of events, the sick and wounded apparently received scant consideration from their general. On their arrival at Helpmekaar, the more seriously wounded from Rorke’s Drift were accommodated in the end of a corrugated zinc shed. This was one of several, filled with commissariat stores, chiefly bags of maize that had been repeatedly soaked by heavy rains during their transportation from Pietermaritzburg. These many tons of damp bagged maize were then stored; they were now decomposing and giving off the most offensive smell. For the seriously sick and wounded, the only bedding consisted of long square biscuit boxes that were arranged along the inside of the building that then had empty sacks laid over them. This was all the bedding that was obtainable for more than a fortnight, during which time replacement stores were slowly making their way from the base of operations at Pietermaritzburg. The station’s medical stores were non-existent, as all such stores had been allocated to the column’s hospital at Rorke’s Drift where all equipment and medicines had been destroyed in the fire. Fortunately the doctor at Helpmekaar, Surgeon Blair-Brown, had one small personal medical kit that contained a mixture of pills, powders, bandages and a tourniquet; unfortunately, the labels of the pills and medication had been washed off in a storm and the doctor relied on his intuition and luck when dispensing to the patients. Surgeon Blair-Brown wisely took control of a crate containing bottles of brandy and port wine; this form of medication proved very popular and efficacious in treating most conditions. With the decline in morale and general health, the doctor was kept very busy: 646 soldiers reported sick or sought treatment during their first week at Helpmekaar. A week later about 600 more men from the 4th Regiment augmented the Helpmekaar force. The treatment list during the first weeks was as follows:

  Officers

  Men

  Royal Artillery

  4

  66

  1st 13th Regiment

  1

  73

  1st 24th Regiment

  7

  110

  2nd 24th Regiment

  0

  45

  Medical Department

  2

  3

  Commissariat Department

  1

  6

  Veterinary Department

  1

  0

  Mounted Infantry

  4

  95

  Mounted Police

  3

  84

  Natal Mounted Volunteers

  4

  49

  Royal Engineers

  2

  2

  Mounted Basutos

  4

  80

  TOTALS

  33

  613

  When the shocked survivors from Chelmsford’s column re-entered the camp at Helpmekaar, one of the greatest fears was of a Zulu night attack, even though the Zulus rarely – if ever – attacked at night. Consequently Captain Walter Parke Jones, R.E., and his able subordinate Lieutenant R. da Costa Porter commenced the construction of a substantial entrenchment; Porter subsequently wrote a prize-winning dissertation on military fortifications. Jones described the fort’s location as ‘vile’; its position having been determined by Lord Chelmsford who insisted that its construction must defend the existing iron storehouses. Jones thought the position unsuitable as it was prone to become waterlogged whenever it rained. Indeed, after one particularly heavy downpour, the ditch was filled with water to a depth of 6ft.

  Chelmsford and his staff remained at Helpmekaar just long enough to give instructions for the Court of Enquiry; Colonel F.C. Hassard was left in charge. Hassard proved to be a weak commander and he occupied himself with strengthening the fort and then resolutely remaining within the defences. One week later, command at Helpmekaar was given to Colonel E.W. Bray who did what he could to improve the appalling conditions around the fort. Chelmsford’s staff officer, Major Clery, once commented that the original store site been so located ‘with regard to nothing but the convenience of the contractor erecting them’. On the positive side, the construction of the Helpmekaar fort was comparatively easy as the soil was soft but firm; an earthen parapet and deep ditch were soon constructed, the whole being surrounded by strong earthworks. A drawbri
dge made from bundles of brushwood was constructed to make a bulletproof barrier across the entrance at night. For added protection, the guns of Harness’s RA detachment were brought from Rorke’s Drift and positioned at three corners.

  And then it rained; and when it rained, the fort quickly became water-logged and a virtual swamp. Immediately following Isandlwana, there were few stores or tents and the men slept packed together within the fort; when supplies arrived from Pietermaritzburg tents were erected outside the fortifications but due to the close proximity of fit and sick men, the tents were moved on 31 March to a new location 500 yards away, and a wagon laager was built to house the hospital tents.

  Due to the fear of Zulu night attacks, the whole garrison was confined within the fort between sunset and sunrise with uniform and boots worn at all times; the men were then released in groups and always under a police escort. Much discomfort arose from the total loss of personal possessions looted from Isandlwana and, with few stores, no comforts and constant driving rain, life at Helpmekaar was physically and mentally exhausting. Washing facilities were limited to one bathe per week in a nearby stream and men and officers had to let their beards grow. Improvisation and invention flourished and rubbish heaps were scoured for empty tins that could be used to fashion knives and forks, and numerous items such as combs and brushes were created from pieces of wood.