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Steady lads.
The Sergeant Majors whiskers and sideburns twiched against the flies.
His red tunic with its brass buttons was stained with his sweat.
The dust and noise in front of him was like a loud storm, but human made.
The dryness in the air parched all their throats.
When the Zulus began to run it sounded like a herd of buffalo charging.
The pulse in his forehead throbbed.
He put his head to one side and spat dry air.
"Come along now lads, gather your bravery."
So began the battle of Roarks Drift.
