"Dunno what to say to it all, Mas' Don. P'r'aps it's flam after all."
"No, Jem; they look too fierce," whispered back Don.
"Ay, my lad, that's it; they look so fierce. If they didn't look so
precious ugly, I should believe in 'em a bit more. Looks to me as if
they were going to pretend to bite, and then run off."
A sudden yell rose from the attacking party just then, and three of the
enemy rushed forward to the front, armed with short-handled stone
tomahawks. They seemed to be chiefs, and were men of great height and
bulk, but none the less active; and as they advanced, a low murmur of
dismay was started by such of the women as could command a view of what
was going on outside. This seemed to be communicated to all the rest,
women and children taking up the murmur, which rose to a piteous wail.
This started the pigs and dogs which had been driven into the protection
of the _pah_, and the discord was terrible.
But meanwhile, partly to encourage their followers, partly to dismay
those they had come to attack, the three leaders rushed wildly to and
fro before the opening to the fort, brandishing their stone axes,
grimacing horribly, putting out their tongues, and turning up their
eyes, till only the whites were visible.
"It's that 'ere which makes me think they won't fight," said Jem, as he
and Don watched the scene intently.
"Don't talk, Jem. See what they are going to do. Are we to shoot if
they do attack?"
"If you don't they'll give it to us," replied Jem. "Oh, what a row!"
For at that moment there was a terrible and peculiar cry given from
somewhere behind the little army, and the three men gave place to one
who rushed from behind. The cry was given out three times as the man
indulged in a similar set of wild evolutions to those which had been
displayed by the three leaders, and with his eyes showing only the
whites, he too thrust out his tongue derisively.
"If I was only near enough to give you a chop under the chin!" grumbled
Jem.
Then he grasped and cocked the pistol he held, for the chief in front
suddenly began to stamp on the ground, and shouted forth the beginning
of his war-song.
Up leaped the whole of the enemy, to shake their spears as they yelled
out the chorus, leaping and stamping with regular movement, till the
earth seemed to quiver. The acts of the chief were imitated, every man
seeming to strive to outdo his fellows in the contortions of their
countenances, the protrusion of their tongues, and the way in which they
rolled and displayed the whites of their eyes.
There was quite a military precision in the stamping and bounding, while
the rhythm of the wild war-song was kept with wonderful accuracy.
"Feel scared, Mas' Don?" whispered Jem.
"I did at first, Jem," replied Don; "but they seem such a set of
ridiculous idiots, that I am more disposed to laugh at them."
"That's just how I feel, my lad, only aggrawated like, too. I should
like to go among 'em with a big stick. I never see such faces as they
make. It is all flam; they won't fight."
The war-song went on as if the enemy were exciting themselves for the
affray, and all the time the men of Tomati and Ngati stood firm, and as
watchful as could be of their foes, who leaped, and stamped, and sang
till Jem turned to Don, and said in a low voice,--
"Look here, Mas' Don, it's my opinion that these here chaps never grew
inside their heads after they was six or seven. They've got bodies big
enough, but no more brains than a little child. Look at that
six-foot-four chap making faces at us; why, it's like a little boy.
They won't fight."
It seemed so to Don, and that it was all going to be an attempt to
frighten the tribe he was with. But all the same, the enemy came by
degrees nearer and nearer, as they yelled and leaped; and a suspicion
suddenly crossed Don's mind that there might be a motive in all this.
"Jem, they mean to make a rush."
"Think so, Mas' Don?"
"Yes, and our people know it. Look out!"
The followers of Tomati had thoroughly grasped the meaning of the
indirect approach, just as a man who has practised a certain manoeuvre
is prepared for the same on the part of his enemy, and they had
gradually edged towards the entrance to the _pah_, which was closed, but
which naturally presented the most accessible way to the interior.
The howling chorus and the dancing continued, till, at a signal, the
rush was made, and the fight began.
Jem Wimble's doubts disappeared in an instant; for, childish as the
actions of the enemy had been previously, they were now those of
desperate savage men, who made no account of their lives in carrying out
the attack upon the weaker tribe.
With a daring that would have done credit to the best disciplined
forces, they darted up to the stout fence, some of them attacking the
defenders, by thrusting through their spears, while others strove to
climb up and cut the lashings of the _toro-toro_, the stout fibrous
creeper with which the palings were bound together.
One minute the enemy were dancing and singing, the next wildly engaged
in the fight; while hard above the din, in a mournful booming bleat,
rang out the notes of a long wooden horn.
The tumult increased, and was made more terrible by the screaming of the
women and the crying of the children, which were increased as some
unfortunate defender of the _pah_ went down before the spear-thrusts of
the enemy.
The attack was as daring and brave as could be; but the defence was no
less gallant, and was supplemented by a desperate valour, which seemed
to be roused to the pitch of madness as the women's cries arose over
some fallen warrior. A spear was thrust through at the defenders;
answering thrusts were given, but with the disadvantage that the enemy
were about two to one. Tomati fought with the solid energy of his race,
always on the look-out to lead half-a-dozen men to points which were
most fiercely assailed; and his efforts in this way were so successful
that over and over again the enemy were driven back in spots where they
had made the most energetic efforts to break through.
As Don and Jem looked on they saw Tomati's spear darted through the
great fence at some savage who had climbed up, and was hacking the
lashings; and so sure as that thrust was made, the stone tomahawk ceased
to hack, and its user fell back with a yell of pain or despair.
Ngati, too, made no grotesque contortions of his face; there was no
lolling out of the tongue, or turning up of the eyes, for his
countenance was set in one fixed stare, and his white teeth clenched as
he fought with the valour of some knight of old.
"I would not ha' thought it, Mas' Don," said Jem excitedly. "Look at
him; and I say--oh, poor chap!"
This last was as Jem saw a fine-looking young Maori, who was defending a
rather open portion of the stockade, deliver a thrust, and then draw
back, drop his spear, throw up his arms, and then reel and stagger
forward, to fall upon his face--dead.
"They'll be through there directly, Mas' Don!" cried Jem, hoarsely, as
Don stooped upon one knee to raise the poor fellow's head, and lay it
gently down again, for there was a look upon it that even he could
understand.
"Through there, Jem?" said Don, rising slowly, and looking half stunned
with horror.
"Yes, my lad; and Tomati's busy over the other side, and can't come.
Arn't it time us two did something?"
"Yes," said Don, with his face flushing, as he gave a final look at the
dead Maori. "Ah!"
Both he and Jem stopped short then, for there was a yell of dismay as
Ngati was seen now to stagger away from the fence, and fall headlong,
bleeding from half-a-dozen wounds.
An answering yell came from outside, and the clatter of spear and
tomahawk seemed to increase, while the posts were beginning to yield in
the weak spot near where the two companions stood.
"Come on, Jem!" cried Don, who seemed to be moved by a spirit of
excitement, which made him forget to feel afraid; and together they ran
to where two men, supported by their companions outside, were hacking at
the _toro-toro_, while others were fiercely thrusting their spears
through whenever the defenders tried to force the axe-men down.
"Pistols, Jem, and together, before those two fellows cut the lashings."
"That's your sort!" cried Jem; and there was a sharp _click, click_, as
they cocked their pistols.
"Now, Jem, we mustn't miss," said Don. "Do as I do."
He walked to within three or four yards of the great fence, and rested
the butt of the spear he carried on the ground. Then, holding the
pistol-barrel against the spear-shaft with his left hand, thus turning
the spear into a support, he took a long and careful aim at a great
bulky savage, holding on the top of the fence.
Jem followed his example, and covered the other; while the enemy yelled,
and thrust at them with their spears, yelling the more excitedly as it
was found impossible to reach them.
"Let me give the word, Mas' Don!" cried Jem, whose voice shook with
excitement. "Mind and don't miss, dear lad, or they'll be down upon us.
Ready?"
"Yes," said Don.
"Here goes, then," cried Jem. "Fire! Stop your vents."
The two pistols went off simultaneously, and for a few moments the smoke
concealed the results. Then there was a tremendous yelling outside, one
that was answered from within by the defenders, who seemed to have
become inspirited by the shots; for either from fright, or from the
effects of the bullets, the two great Maoris who were cutting the
lashings were down, and the defenders were once more at the fence,
keeping the enemy back.
"Load quickly, Jem," said Don.
"That's just what I was a-going to say to you, Mas' Don."
"Well done, my lads! That's good!" cried a hoarse voice; and Tomati was
close to them. "Keep that up; but hold your fire till you see them
trying to get over, and wherever you see that, run there and give 'em a
couple of shots. Ha, ha! Ha, ha!" he roared, as he rushed away to
encourage his followers, just as Jem had rammed home his charge, and
examined the priming in the pistol pan.
"That's just what we will do," said Jem; "only I should like to keep at
it while my blood's warm. If I cool down I can't fight. Say, Mas' Don,
I hope we didn't kill those two chaps."
"I hope they're wounded, Jem, so that they can't fight," replied Don, as
he finished his priming. "Quick! They're getting up yonder."
They ran across to the other side of the _pah_, and repeated their
previous act of defence with equally good result; while the defenders,
who had seemed to be flagging, yelled with delight at the two young
Englishmen, and began fighting with renewed vigour.
"Load away, Mas' Don!" cried Jem; "make your ramrod hop. Never mind the
pistol kicking; it kicks much harder with the other end. Four men down.
What would my Sally say?"
"Hi! Quick, my lads!" shouted Tomati; and as Don looked up he saw the
tattooed Englishman, who looked a very savage now, pointing with his
spear at one corner of the place.
Don nodded, and ran with Jem in the required direction, finishing the
loading as they went.
It was none too soon, for three of the enemy were on the top of the
fence, and, spear in hand, were about to drop down among the defenders.
_Bang_! Went Jem's pistol, and one of the savages fell back.
_Bang_! Don's shot followed, and the man at whom he aimed fell too, but
right among the spears of the defenders; while the third leaped into the
_pah_, and the next moment lay transfixed by half-a-dozen weapons.
"I don't like this, Jem," muttered Don, as he loaded again.
"More don't I, my lad; but it's shoot them or spear us; so load away."
Jem words were so much to the point, that they swept away Don's
compunction, and they hastily reloaded.
All around were the yelling and clashing of spears; and how many of the
attacking party fell could not be seen, but there was constantly the
depressing sight of some brave defender of the women and children
staggering away from the fence, to fall dead, or to creep away out of
the struggle to where the weeping women eagerly sought to staunch his
wounds and give him water.
"That's splendid, my lads! That's splendid! Ten times better than
using a spear," cried Tomati, coming up to them again. "Plenty of
powder and ball?"
"Not a very great deal," said Don.
"Be careful, then, and don't waste a shot. They can't stand that."
"Shall we beat them off?" said Don, after seeing that his pistol was
charged.
"Beat them off? Why, of course. There you are again. Look sharp!"
Once more the two pistols cleared the attacking Maoris from the top of
the fence, where they were vainly trying to cut through the lashings;
and, cheered on by these successes, the defenders yelled with delight,
and used their spears with terrible effect. But the attacking party,
after a recoil, came on again as stubbornly as ever, and it was plain
enough to those who handled the firearms that it was only a question of
time before the besieged would be beaten by numbers; and Don shuddered
as he thought of the massacre that must ensue.
He had been looking round, and then found that Jem was eyeing him
fixedly.
"Just what I was a-thinking, Mas' Don. We've fought like men; but we
can't do impossibles, as I says to your uncle, when he wanted me to move
a molasses barrel. Sooner we cuts and runs, the better."
"I was not thinking of running, Jem."
"Then you ought to have been, my lad; for there's them at home as
wouldn't like us two to be killed."
"Don't! Don't! Jem!" cried Don. "Come on. There's a man over! Two--
three--four! Look!"
He ran toward the side, where a desperate attack was being made, and, as
he said, four men were over, and others following, when once more the
pistols sent down a couple who had mounted the fence, one of them being
shot through the chest, the other dropping on seeing his companion fall,
but with no further hurt than the fright caused by a bullet whistling by
his ear.
The four who were over made a desperate stand, but Tomati joined in the
attack, and the daring fellows soon lay weltering in their blood; while,
as Don rapidly loaded once more, he saw that Tomati was leaning on his
spear, and rocking himself slowly to and fro.
"Are you hurt?" said Don, running up, and loading as he went.
"Hurt, my lad? Yes: got it horrid. Look here, if you and him see a
chance make for the mountain, and then go south'ard."
"But shall we be beaten?"
"We are beaten, my lad, only we can't show it. I'm about done."
"Oh!"
"Hush! Don't show the white feather, boy. Keep on firing, and the
beggars outside may get tired first. If not--There, fire away!"
He made a brave effort to seem unhurt, and went to assist his men; while
once more Don and Jem ran to the side, and fired just in time to save
the lashings of the fence; but Jem's pistol went off with quite a roar,
and he flung the stock away, and stood shaking his bleeding fingers.
"Are you hurt, Jem?"
"Hurt! He says, `Am I hurt?' Why, the precious thing bursted all to
shivers; and, oh, crumpets, don't it sting!"
"Let me bind it up."
"You go on and load; never mind me. Pretty sort o' soldier you'd make.
D'yer hear? Load, I say; load!"
"Can't, Jem," said Don sadly; "that was my last charge."
"So it was mine, and I rammed in half-a-dozen stones as well to give 'em
an extra dose. Think that's what made her burst?"
"Of course it was, Jem."
"Bad job; but it's done, and we've got the cutlash and spears. Which
are you going to use?"
"The spear. No; the cutlass, Jem."
"Bravo, my lad! Phew! How my hand bleeds."
"I'm afraid we shall be beaten, Jem."
"I'm sure of it, my lad. My right hand, too; I can't hit with it. Wish
we was all going to run away now."
"Do you, Jem?"
"Ay, that I do; only we couldn't run away and leave the women and
children, even if they are beaten."
A terrible yelling and shrieking arose at that moment from behind where
they stood, and as they turned, it was to see the whole of the
defenders, headed by Tomati, making a rush for one portion of the fence
where some of the stout poles had given way. A breach had been made,
and yelling like furies, the enemy were pouring through in a crowd.