With the fear of a renewed attack later on, the weary soldiers laid their rifles aside, and at once began to strengthen the defences where they had been broken down. Lest the store-building itself should be threatened with fire, they set to work to remove the thatch from its roof, and while engaged in doing so the watchers announced that another large body of Zulus were in sight some distance to the south-west. Immediately the men flew to their stations, but the alarm fortunately turned out to be a false one. The enemy, after advancing a little way, swung round and disappeared behind the hills. They had seen the column under Lord Chelmsford marching towards the drift, and had had their stomachful of fighting.
A little later the British force, which had seen the flames of the burning hospital as far off as Isandhlana and had marched from the fatal camp to relieve their comrades at Rorke’s Drift, came round the Oscarberg, to be greeted with wild cheers and waving of helmets.
“Men,” said the General, as he surveyed the group before him and heard the story of their great stand, “I thank you all for your gallant defence.”
It was not a moment for fine speeches. The hearts of all present were too full to find utterance in words. But every man knew what was in Lord Chelmsford’s heart as he thanked them simply for himself and for his country.
For that defence, gallant indeed, eleven Crosses were awarded, to Lieutenants Chard and Bromhead, to Assistant-Commissary Dalton, Corporals Allen and Schiess, Privates Hook, Williams, Hitch, and W. and R. Jones, and to Surgeon-Major Reynolds, whom I have not mentioned in my account, but who showed great devotion to the wounded under fire.
Private Henry Hook, one of the principal heroes of the defence, was called up at once before Lord Chelmsford, just as he was, in shirt sleeves and with his braces hanging down behind, to receive the General’s praise for his conduct. He was the only one of the eleven to receive his V.C. at Rorke’s Drift, on the very scene of his gallantry, Sir Garnet Wolseley pinning the little bronze Cross on to Hook’s breast with his own hands on the following 3rd of August.
Until a few years ago Hook was a familiar figure to frequenters of the British Museum Reading Room, where, on retiring from the service, he obtained an appointment.