.

Among these were two men whose memory their country will not willingly
let die, who, indeed (it is the first time in our military history),
have been decreed the Victoria Cross although they were already dead:
Lieutenants Coghill and Melvill of the 24th regiment. One of these,
Lieutenant Coghill, the writer of this sketch had the good fortune to
know well. A kindlier-hearted and merrier young English gentleman never
lived. Melvill and Coghill were swept away upon the tide of flight, down
the dreadful path that led to Fugitives' Drift, but Melvill bore with
him the colours of the 24th regiment that were in his charge as
adjutant, not tied round his waist, as has been reported, but upon the
pole to which they were attached. He arrived in safety at the river,
but, owing to the loss of his horse, was unable to cross it, and took
refuge upon a rock in mid-stream, still holding the colours in his hand.
Coghill, whose knee was disabled by an accident and who had reached the
Natal bank already, saw the terrible position of his friend and brother
officer, and, though spears flashed about him and bullets beat the water
like hail, with a courage that has rarely been equalled, he turned his
horse and swam back to his assistance. The worst was over; safety lay
before him, there behind him in the river was almost certain death; but
this gallant gentleman heeded none of these things, for there also were
the colours of his regiment and his drowning friend. Back he swam to the
rock through the boiling current. Soon his horse was shot dead beneath
him, yet, though none knows how, the two of them came safe to shore. The
colours were lost indeed, for they could no longer carry them and live,
but these never fell into the hands of their savage foes: days
afterwards they were searched for and found in the bed of the river.
Breathless, desperate, lamed, and utterly outworn, the two friends
struggled up the bank and the hill beyond. But Zulus had crossed that
stream as well as the fugitive Englishmen. They staggered forward for a
few hundred yards, then, unable to go further, the friends stood back to
back and the foe closed in upon them. There they stood, and there,
fighting desperately, the heroes died. Peace be with them in that land
to which they have journeyed, and among men, immortal honour to their
names!

They sold their lives dearly, for several Zulus were found lying about
their bodies.

About forty white men lived to cross the