The covenant - James A. Michener [343]
Dawn came without any sign of Mzilikazi's men, but toward nine Tjaart heard a dreadful hissing sound to the east and then the ominous stamping of heavy feet on the earth, and a deafening cry of 'Mzilikazi!' followed by a titanic rush of near-naked soldiers and a flight of deadly spears.
'Do not fire!' he ordered the thirteen trekkers and the seven Coloureds. 'Let them come closer . . . closer.' And he heard the hissing sound again, the stomp of many feet and the same cry 'Mzilikazi!' Also, he heard one lonely voice inside the laager praying: 'Almighty God, we are few, but we wear Your armor. We are not afraid, for we have tried to be righteous men. Almighty God, they are many but You are with us. Guide us in this battle.' It was Theunis Nel, gun in hand, waiting for the charge.
'Mzilikazi!' shouted the warriors, rushing at the small concentration of wagons, expecting to overrun it.
'Fire!' Tjaart cried, and twenty guns blazed directly into the face of Mzilikazi's men.
The carnage was horrendous, but after the first ranks fell, wave after wave replaced them.
'Fire!' Tjaart cried again, and then the Voortrekker men passed along their empty guns, reaching back for the next loaded one.
'Fire!' Tjaart cried again and again, but still the intrepid enemy kept rushing at the laager.
'Tjaart!' a boyish voice called. 'Under the wagon!' But before Paulus could attract his captain's attention, Jakoba had chopped at the head of a black crawling into the laager, cleaving his skull.
For ninety terrible minutes the assault continued, with every man holding his position between the wheels of the wagons, continuing to fire while women loaded the rifles.
When the Matabele warriors slowly retreated, a few infuriated veterans of other battles refused to believe that this handful of trekkers had been able to stand them off. Enraged by their defeat, they re-formed at a safe distance, shouted for the last time 'Mzilikazi!' and dashed right into the muzzles of the guns. They died with their hands touching the wagons, but none broke through.
At dusk Tjaart went out with little Paulus to find the dead and count them: 'One hundred and sixty-seven. On our side, none.'
Theunis Nel, hearing these figures, called upon the entire party to kneel, and as they did he intoned an impassioned prayer, rocking back and forth, daubing his left eye now and then with his fingers. He reviewed the godliness of the Voortrekkers, the loyal faith of their grandfathers, their heroism in entering a strange new land, and he concluded:
'Almighty God, when we looked across the veld and saw those dark and fearful forms, more than the mind could count, against thirteen of us, we knew that victory would be possible only if You were with us. The victory was not ours, but Yours.'
And every man and woman and child listening, even the seven servants not included in the prayer, knew that what Theunis was saying had to be true.
But when the final tally was taken, the Voortrekkers had gained no victory. Not at all. Of the two companies camping to the west, one had been overrun, the other had not been annihilated but had lost four men. And at the De Groot camp, which had refused to go into laager, all fifty-two people were slainchildren, Coloureds, former slavesand all were horribly mutilated.
'You mustn't go there, Paulus,' Tjaart said, tears in his eyes at the horror of the massacre. 'Your father and mother and sisters are dead.'
'I want to go,' the little survivor said, and he rode back with Tjaart and the gravediggers to see what was left of