Flashman And The Tiger

Why Flashman treats this notable imperial disaster, and its sequel at Rorke’s Drift, so cursorily is plain enough. His chief concern in this extract (which came to light more than twenty years ago as a separate fragment in that packet of his Papers dealing with the Indian Mutiny) is to tell the story of his dealings with the notorious Colonel John Sebastian ("Tiger Jack") Moran, and he does not hesitate to pass by great events with little more than a glance. Thus his description of the Isandhlwana fighting is sketchy and highly personal. Reading it, one might suppose that hardly any time elapsed between the first appearance of the Zulus and their final assault on the camp, but in fact there was much intervening activity. Following Lord Chelmsford’s departure at dawn, various detachments had been sent out from Pulleine’s camp under the Isandhlwana hill as advance pickets and to deal with small groups of Zulus who had appeared; the largest of these detachments, Colonel Durnford’s, encountered a powerful impi and was forced to beat a fighting retreat towards the camp, where Pulleine was already under attack. How Flashman came to be within earshot of Pulleine and have a view of Durnford, whose retreat had begun some miles away, one can only guess; no doubt he moved at his customary high speed, and it is likely that in his recollection of his panic-stricken confusion he has unwittingly "telescoped" events and time. His description of the battle’s climax accords with other accounts, but he does not mention that the Zulu advance was held up and badly mauled at various points before the final overrunning of the British position. The encircling "chest and horns" tactic was entirely successful, and those of Pulleine’s force who escaped the main action were hunted down the ravine to Fugitives' Drift on the Buffalo River. (See Rider Haggard’s account written for Andrew Lang; Colenso and Durnford, History of the Zulu War, 1881; Sir Reginald Coupland, Zulu Battle-Piece, 1948; Donald L. Morris, The Washing of the Spears, 1965; C. T. Binns' The Last Zulu King; Mackinnon and Shadbolt; and the personal narrative of C. L. Norris-Newman, the only journalist to travel with Chelmsford’s force, In Zululand with the British, 1880. An interesting memoir of Zululand during the war is the journal of Cornelius Vjin, a trader who was in Zulu hands for much of the time, Cetshwayo’s Dutchman, 1880.)

[5]. Flashman was right that the Zulus would attack Rorke’s Drift, but wrong in supposing that they would invade Natal. Isandhlwana had been the most disastrous battle defeat suffered by British troops against native forces in the nineteenth century—although it was to be matched by the wipe-out of a brigade by Afghan tribesmen at Maiwand a year later—but it had been a costly victory for the Zulus, who were finally beaten at Ulundi in July, 1879.

[6]. For interesting information on Zulu superstitions, see Frazer’s Golden Bough. In fact, Moran was somewhat out of date; the practice of sending twins first in battle appears to have died out earlier in the century, in King Chaka’s time.

[7]. The pursuing Zulus were certainly soldiers of the Udloko regiment, part of the Undi corps who formed the right wing of the impis at Isandhlwana. Their red and white shields were distinctive. The Martini-Henry was a single-shot weapon, but a good rifleman could fire six rounds in half a minute.

[8]. The siege of the little Buffalo River station at Rorke’s Drift began only a few hours after Isandhlwana, and lasted through the night until the following morning. The garrison was about 130 strong, and was commanded by Lieutenant John Chard of the Royal Engineers and Lieutenant Gonville Bromhead of the 24th (Warwickshire) Regiment, largely recruited in Wales, and later renamed the South Wales Borderers. The attacking Zulu force, consisting of the Udloko, Tulwana, and ’Ndluyengwe regiments, was at least 4000 strong. Both sides fought with the utmost bravery from late afternoon until the climax of the battle at midnight, the Zulus trying to break into the perimeter hastily improvised of mealie-bags and biscuit boxes, and being met by the volleys of the defenders' Martini-Henrys. Savage close-quarter fighting took place at the barricades, and in the hospital, which caught fire at about six o’clock, when the wounded had to be evacuated; by midnight the perimeter had shrunk to sixty-five yards in front of the storehouse. Following as it did on the disaster of Isandhlwana, the defence of Rorke’s Drift became, deservedly, a Victorian legend. Seventeen of the defenders died, and at least 400 Zulus. Eleven Victoria Crosses were awarded.