ttack the Nek. To return was almost impossible, since both horses
and travellers were pretty nearly knocked up. Also, anybody who has
travelled with his family in summer-time over the awful track of
alternate slough and boulders between Maritzburg and Newcastle, known in
the Colony as a road, will understand, that at the time, the adventurous
voyagers would far rather risk being shot than face a return journey.

The only thing to do under the circumstances was to await the course
of events, which were now about to develop themselves with startling
rapidity. The little town of Newcastle was at this time an odd sight,
and remained so all through the war. The hotels were crowded to
overflowing with refugees, and on every spare patch of land were erected
tents, mud huts, canvas houses, and every kind of covering that could
be utilised under the pressure of necessity, to house the many homeless
families who had succeeded in effecting their escape from the Transvaal,
many of whom were reduced to great straits.

On the morning of the 28th January, anybody listening attentively in the
neighbourhood of Newcastle could hear the distant boom of heavy guns. We
were not kept long in suspense, for in the afternoon news arrived
that Sir George had attacked the Nek, and failed with heavy loss.
The excitement in the town was intense, for, in addition to other
considerations, the 58th Regiment, which had suffered most, had been
quartered there for some time, and both the officers and men were
personally known to the inhabitants.

The story of the fight is well known, and needs little repetition, and a
sad story it is. The Boers, who at that time were some 2000 strong, were
posted and entrenched on steep hills, against which Sir George Colley
hurled a few hundred soldiers. It was a forlorn hope, but so gallant
was the charge, especially that of the mounted squadron led by Major
Bronlow, that at one time it nearly succeeded. But nothing could stand
under the withering fire from the Boer schanses, and as regards the foot
soldiers, they never had a chance. Colonel Deane tried to take them up
the hill with a rush, with the result that by the time they reached the
top, some of the men were actually sick from exhaustion, and none could
hold a rifle steady. There on the bare hill-top, they crouched and lay,
while the pitiless fire from redoubt and rock lashed them like hail,
till at last human nature could bear it no longer, and what was left o