was the ford? The
water swept broad and unruffled in front of them, with no indication
of shallows. A few dashing fellows sprang in, but their cartridges and
rifles dragged them to the bottom. One or two may even have struggled
through to the further side, but on this there is a conflict of
evidence. It may be, though it seems incredible, that the river had been
partly dammed to deepen the Drift, or, as is more probable, that in the
rapid advance and attack the position of the Drift was lost. However
this may be, the troops could find no ford, and they lay down, as had
been done in so many previous actions, unwilling to retreat and unable
to advance, with the same merciless pelting from front and flank. In
every fold and behind every anthill the Irishmen lay thick and
waited for better times. There are many instances of their cheery and
uncomplaining humour. Colonel Brooke, of the Connaughts, fell at the
head of his men. Private Livingstone helped to carry him into safety,
and then, his task done, he confessed to having 'a bit of a rap meself,'
and sank fainting with a bullet through his throat. Another sat with a
bullet through both legs. 'Bring me a tin whistle and I'll blow ye any
tune ye like,' he cried, mindful of the Dargai piper. Another with his
arm hanging by a tendon puffed morosely at his short black pipe. Every
now and then, in face of the impossible, the fiery Celtic valour flamed
furiously upwards. 'Fix bayonets, men, and let us make a name for
ourselves,' cried a colour sergeant, and he never spoke again. For five
hours, under the tropical sun, the grimy parched men held on to the
ground they had occupied. British shells pitched short and fell among
them. A regiment in support fired at them, not knowing that any of the
line were so far advanced. Shot at from the front, the flank, and the
rear, the 5th Brigade held grimly on.

But fortunately their orders to retire were at hand, and it is certain
that had they not reached them the regiments would have been uselessly
destroyed where they lay. It seems to have been Buller himself, who
showed extraordinary and ubiquitous personal energy during the day, that
ordered them to fall back. As they retreated there was an entire absence
of haste and panic, but officers and men were hopelessly jumbled up, and
General Hart--whose judgment may occasionally be questioned, but whose
cool courage was beyond praise--had hard work to reform the splendid
brigade which six ho