For these reasons Thorneycroft justified in his official report his decision to retire from Spion Kop.  With the acquiescence of all the senior officers, except Hill, who could not be found, he ordered a withdrawal at 10 p.m.  The alternative seemed to be a Majuba surrender next morning.  At 10.30 p.m. as the troops were beginning to move off the hill, he received a letter from Warren, asking for his views on the situation, and as to the measures to be adopted.  It was now unnecessary to give these, and he sent a brief reply that he was obliged to abandon Spion Kop as the position was untenable.

The retirement was not made without protests from Hill and from Coke’s staff officer who was still on the plateau.  The former, eleven hours after Thorneycroft’s appointment as Brigadier-General, believed, as he had every right to do, that he was in command, and halted the men; the latter sent round a memorandum to the commanding officers, asserting that there was no authority for the withdrawal.  But the force of Thorneycroft’s local rank prevailed, and the retreat was not stayed.  Near the foot of the slope he found the mountain battery, and met a fatigue party on its way to prepare emplacements for two naval guns which were coming up, and received a message from Warren urging him to hold on to the position.  It was too late.  Ordering back the party and the battery, he went on to report himself to Warren, and arrived at Head Quarters almost simultaneously with Coke.

The Boers meanwhile were greatly discouraged by their expulsion from the Twin Peaks, and their failure to occupy the main position on Spion Kop.  The guns which had tormented Thorneycroft for so many hours, and which were the chief cause of his retirement, were withdrawn, and Schalk Burger’s commandos oozed away towards Ladysmith.  But there was, however, a stalwart and not inconsiderable remnant of burghers who responded to Botha’s expostulations, and stood fast as a forlorn hope determined to win back Spion Kop and the Twin Peaks.  Their constancy was rewarded, and when at sunrise on January 25 they once more climbed the hill, they found to their astonishment and relief that it was still held—­by more than 300 bodies of their fallen foes.

Such in brief is the tale of Spion Kop so far as it can be disentangled from the accumulation of messages, orders, reports, dispatches, and personal accounts, which obscure the subject.  Many of these are inconsistent, not a few contradictory, and sufficient evidence might be found to support plausibly half a dozen conflicting theories of the cause of the disaster, and as many variants of the narrative.

At 2 a.m.  Warren heard from Thorneycroft’s lips—­the latter’s written message sent off at 10.30 p.m. on the previous evening not having reached him—­of the evacuation of Spion Kop.  At sunrise he was joined by Buller, who viewed the situation in a spirit of philosophic detachment.  He had never cordially approved of the Spion Kop adventure, and was not surprised to hear that it had failed.  Warren was inclined to persevere, but Buller decided to retire south of the Tugela and assumed the direct command of the Army, which on January 27 was once more drawn up on the right bank after an absence of ten days; with most of its superior officers discredited, with Ladysmith unrelieved, and the nation at home aghast at the disaster.