Chapter 1055: The Xhosa Warriors
At present, France possessed no specific cure for cholera, but through months of utilizing physiological saline and glucose, Darius had discovered that these two "medicines" were practically miraculous.
By slowly administering them intravenously with a syringe, nearly eighty percent of patients quickly regained their spirits. At least half of them could recover completely without the use of any other drugs.
The downside, of course, was the cost. Glucose, in particular, had to be shipped directly from mainland France. Each bottle cost over ten francs—and that was only after the Paris Pharmaceutical Factory had begun mass production.
However, the expenditure of medicine was well worth it this time, as the commission for hiring a single male Xhosa warrior was between five to fifteen francs per month.
The priestess of the Oku tribe had "contributed" ten warriors at once, and they were to "serve" for three months.
The physical resilience of the South African natives was remarkably high—those with weak constitutions were mostly weeded out by nature during their childhood.
After receiving two injections of glucose and five of physiological saline, the priestess's strength was replenished. Ultimately, her own immunity triumphed over the bacteria, and her dysentery ceased.
Four days later, she was able to consume liquid food. Darius instructed her to drink only clean water upon her return, watched as she swore a solemn oath, and then declared her fit for discharge.
The Xhosa people placed great importance on oaths made to their gods; those ten warriors would undoubtedly report for duty at Mossel Bay.
Once she returned to her tribe, the tale of her experience would inevitably spread among her people, drawing even more Xhosa tribes to seek medical treatment.
In reality, this Salt River Hospital saw between sixty and seventy native patients every single day.
Even the Zulu people as far away as Magulu had heard of the hospital's reputation and would travel long distances to receive treatment.
The Boers had established hospitals in the past, but their reputation could not hold a candle to the Salt River Hospital.
First and foremost, the Boers looked down on black people. Even when treating tribal chiefs, they rarely put in much effort.
Secondly, their medical knowledge was far inferior to that of the French. Nowadays, any French preparatory physician armed with a "Medical Manual" could outmatch an entire Boer hospital.
Furthermore, Salt River Hospital focused solely on healing. Patients were not required to confess to God before entering—other white-run hospitals were never so accommodating.
Finally, the fees at Salt River Hospital were extremely low.
Patients participating in double-blind drug experiments were not charged at all; they even received a free meal of corn porridge every day.
Those receiving standard medical care could offset their fees by assisting the Boers in combat—one month of service earned them one free treatment, while they still received their regular commission. Serving for a year granted lifetime free medical care, which even covered up to two francs in medicine costs.
...
In the town of Swellendam, east of the Cape.
Over two hundred soldiers from two British infantry companies, covered by thirty cavalrymen, were escorting five horse-drawn wagons back toward the Cape.
The wagons were loaded with grain they had just requisitioned from the Boer residents in the town.
Although the British were being extremely cautious, three or four soldiers were still killed by bullets suddenly fired from the bushes on either side of the road after they had traveled about ten kilometers from the town.
In fact, as soon as they had entered Swellendam, word had been sent to the nearby Boer resistance organizations.
The resistance had immediately mobilized men for an ambush, while the townspeople took their sweet time loading the British wagons.
The British soldiers reacted quickly. In less than five minutes, they had backed against the grain wagons and formed a line, leveling their muskets toward the direction of the gunfire.
At the same time, the cavalry fanned out, searching for other attackers.
The surroundings fell silent for a moment. Suddenly, the beat of war drums echoed. A line formation composed of over four hundred Boer militia in various attire appeared to the front and side of the British.
The British rapidly adjusted their orientation. Officers raised their sabers, ready to give the order to fire at any moment.
They were confident. With their disciplined formations and superior marksmanship, defeating twice their number of Boers was no difficult task.
Just as the two sides were about two hundred paces apart, the British cavalry suddenly blew sharp whistles in warning.
While the British infantry anxiously looked around, over a hundred black warriors clutching shields and spears charged from their right flank, letting out blood-curdling war cries.
The British hurriedly detached forty soldiers to form a defensive stance on the flank, but the Xhosa warriors abruptly stopped halfway through their charge. Meanwhile, the Boer line in front accelerated its advance.
When the Boers closed within eighty paces of the enemy, they launched their first volley.
The British ignored them. This was still far beyond the firing distance required by their drills; they simply kept their eyes locked on the enemy.
The Xhosa warriors, however, began their wild sprint again. They split into four columns, pouncing toward the British like the horns of a bull.
They had never received formal training in column charges; this was ancestral wisdom, honed through countless tribal wars—a method they practiced from the moment they could walk.
The British were clearly startled. When the natives were still eighty paces away, the officers gave the order to fire.
Two Xhosa warriors were struck and fell—their cowhide shields could not stop lead bullets—but the witch doctors following behind chanted eerie spells at the top of their lungs. This rendered the warriors fearless, and they seemed to run even faster.
The Boers were also entering effective range, and the British were forced to focus most of their energy on dealing with those four hundred flintlock muskets.
After several rounds of synchronized volleys, the Boer line began to fall into disarray. Their left flank continued forward, while the center and right flank wavered and stalled under the fire.
Though the British had lost a dozen men, they showed no sign of panic, maintaining a steady and rapid rate of fire.
The terrifying cries of the Xhosa warriors grew closer. Then, the British heard a series of "swoosh-swoosh" sounds coming from above.
Sixty or seventy javelins rained down on the British line. Instantly, a dozen men were skewered through the chest, falling to the ground in agonizing convulsions.
Xhosa warriors could hurl their spears over fifty paces with startling accuracy.
Seizing the moment of British confusion, two Xhosa charging squads finally made contact with the front rank of British soldiers.
The oddly shaped Xhosa shields proved their worth here. The British bayonets were easily parried, followed immediately by the downward swing of Xhosa axes.
Within three or four minutes, the British right flank, lacking experience in fighting the Xhosa, began to collapse. The chaos quickly spread to the rest of the soldiers.
Seeing this, the British commander frantically rallied his cavalry for cover while ordering the infantry to retreat to the south.
However, they didn't realize that the Xhosa were almost all champion runners.
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