On regaining the shelter Haviland at once made it known to his followers
that they had got to fight, and fight hard. They were already in
position; that had been arranged during the parley.
"Can you trust these Arabs of yours, Haviland?" asked Oakley in a low
tone. "Will they fight against their own countrymen?"
"Trust them? Rather. Besides, these are not their own countrymen.
Another tribe altogether. And they are always fighting among
themselves. They enjoy it."
Kumbelwa, who had been placed in command of the armed bearers, was
squatted on the ground, his snuff horn and spoon in his hand, and was
taking copious quantities of snuff in the most unperturbed manner.
There was no excitement about him now. That was to come.
"They know our strength, or rather our weakness," said Haviland. "They
can judge to a man by our tracks how many real fighters we have got.
Somala says they will try rushing us."
Hardly had the words left his mouth when the rattle of a sudden volley,
and a line of smoke from the enemy's front solved all doubts as to the
intentions of the latter. Bullets came singing through the trees, and a
shower of twigs fell about their ears in all directions. One, which had
fallen just short, ricochetted and struck one of the armed bearers,
killing him instantly. But the defenders reserved their fire.
Then it was seen that a crowd of blacks was stealing up from another
side, taking advantage of every unevenness in the ground--of shrubs,
stones, everything. At the same time the Arabs from their position
poured in another volley. It was rather better aimed than the first,
but, beyond slightly wounding two men, took no effect. But with a wild,
blood-curdling scream, the dark horde which threatened their rear
charged forward, and gained a position yet nearer. Then the shooting
began. Haviland and Oakley, leaving the other side to the doctor and
Somala, had sprung to confront this new peril. Their rifles spoke, and
two of the advancing savages pitched forward on their faces. Then
Kumbelwa's turn came, and Kumbelwa was one of the few Zulus who could
shoot. Lying full length behind the breastwork, he had got his rifle
sighted on to a black head which kept appearing and disappearing behind
a shrub. Up it came again, and this time Kumbelwa loosed _off_. The
black head sprang into the air and a huge body beneath it, which last
turned a complete somersault, and lay in a huddled still heap beyond.
The Zulu's exultation took the form of a deep humming hiss.
"Well done, Kumbelwa!" cried Oakley in glee. "Three shots, three
birds."
It was no part of our friends' plan to waste ammunition; besides, they
were aware of the effect a sparing fire, and nearly every shot telling,
would have, as distinct from a general bout of wild and wide blazing.
The black horde which had drawn so near them was evidently impressed,
for it lay as though not daring to move.
Then from a new quarter fire was opened upon them. Two porters were
struck and killed, and another badly wounded. This one began to screech
lustily. In the tumult, unseen by the white leaders, one of the Arabs,
at a sign from Somala, stepped behind him and promptly knocked him
senseless with a clubbed rifle. They did not want any unnecessary signs
of distress to reach the enemy.
And now, taking advantage of this new diversion, the horde of blacks
leaped from their cover, and, uttering wild yells, charged forwards.
There must have been over a couple of hundred of them, tall,
ferocious-looking villains, armed with long spears and heavy axes.
Leaping, zigzagging to avoid the bullets aimed at them, they came on in
the most determined manner. Haviland and Oakley could not load fast
enough, and the armed porters were blazing away in the wildest fashion,
and simply doing no damage whatever. Kumbelwa had sent two more down,
but still the remnant charged on. The while, on the other side, the
doctor and Somala's party had their hands full in repelling an advance
on the part of the Arab section of the attacking force, and that under a
hot cross fire.
"Heavens, Oakley, they'll be on us in a minute!" exclaimed Haviland in a
quick whisper, as he jammed fresh cartridges into the hot and smoking
breech of his Express. And, indeed, it seemed so. They could not fire
fast enough, and in a great mass the savages were already against the
breastwork, lunging over it with their long spears. But then came the
defenders' chance. Fools as they were with firearms, even the bearers
could not miss point blank, and they poured their fire right into the
faces of their swarming assailants. These dropped as though mown down,
but with loud yells those behind pressed the foremost on, to be mown
down in their turn. The striving, struggling mass would fain have taken
flight, but simply could not. And then Kumbelwa, seeing it was time to
effect a diversion, concluded to adopt the offensive.
Leaping over the breastwork, covered by his great war-shield, he made
for a tall ruffian, whose head was streaming with long black feathers,
and who seemed to be directing the charge. Like lightning he was upon
him, and beneath the shearing flash of the great assegai, down went the
man, his trunk wellnigh ripped in twain.
"_Usutu! 'Sutu_!" roared the Zulu, as, whirling round, he struck
another to the heart with his reeking spear, at the same time bringing
another to the earth with a mighty slap of his great shield. Like
lightning he moved. Never still for a second, he avoided the lunges
made at him, always to strike fatally in his turn, and soon a ring of
assailants round him was a ring of ripped and struggling corpses
deluging the earth in torrents of blood. Whirling here, darting there,
and ever roaring the war-cry of his late king, the towering Zulu was to
these dismayed savages the very embodiment of irresistible destruction.
With yells of dismay they fled before him in a broken, demoralised
crowd, and into their front the fire of those behind the breastwork
played upon their thickest masses.
"Come back, Kumbelwa," commanded Haviland, in Zulu.
Like magic the trained and disciplined warrior halted at the word of his
chief. In a second he was within the breastwork again.
"Thou wert being led on too far, my friend," said Haviland, all aglow
with admiration. "In a moment yon dogs would have turned upon thee, and
even a lion cannot stand against a hundred dogs."
"_Nkose_! Yet had I but half the Umbonambi regiment here with me, we
would eat the whole of these jackals at one bite!" exclaimed Kumbelwa,
his great chest heaving with excitement and his recent exertions.
"By Jove! I never saw such a sight as that! Magnificent!" cried
Oakley, who was taking advantage of the lull to light his pipe.
On the other side, too, hostilities seemed to have slackened, but here,
whatever damage had been inflicted by the defenders they were unable to
estimate with any certainty. It was evident that Mushad had chosen that
the least esteemed of his followers--the black savages, to wit--should
bear the brunt of the first attack, not from any lack of courage, but
from sheer cold calculating economy. Their lives were worth the least
to him, therefore let them bear the lion's share of the risk. And this
they had assuredly done, if the black bodies which strewed the earth on
their side of the breastwork were any criterion. Within, one of
Somala's clansmen had been shot dead; while another, whose hand hung
limp and useless, was setting his teeth as Dr Ahern was hastily
bandaging the shattered wrist.
"What think you, Somala?" said the doctor, looking up from this
operation. "Will they leave us alone now?"
"Not yet, Sidi. The best of Mushad's fighters are yonder. They have
not done much fighting as yet."
"If they take it into their heads to invest us, we are done for," said
Haviland, "unless we can break through in the dark. Why, we have hardly
enough water to last till then."
"The battle will be finished before to-night," said the Arab, decidedly.
"Well, when we have given Mushad as much fighting as he wants, then I
suppose he'll draw off," said Oakley. "So the sooner he comes on again
the better."
"You cannot know much about Mushad, Sidi. He never leaves an enemy once
blows have been exchanged," replied the Arab, darkly. "The battle will
be decided before night. But Mushad will be slain--or--"
"Or we shall. So be it, Somala. We'll do our best."
There followed a lull; ominous, oppressive. Hostilities seemed entirely
to have ceased, but they had implicit belief in Somala's sagacity, and
his forecast was not exactly encouraging. They were striving against
enormous odds, and, although thus far they had triumphed, the pick of
the hostile force had not yet been used against them, even as the Arab
had said. The enforced stillness was not good for their nerves. A
reaction had set in. The dead and dying within their circle--for three
more of the porters had been killed and several of the refugees badly
wounded--were groaning in pain; the acrid stench of blood arising on the
steamy tropical heat had a tendency to throw a gloom over, at any rate,
the white members of the expedition. It was as well, perhaps, that a
diversion should occur, and this was supplied by Kumbelwa. A vast and
cavernous snore fell upon their ears, then another and another. His
great frame stretched at full length upon the ground, his broad blade
still sticky with half-dried blood, together with his rifle lying upon
his war-shield beside him, the Zulu warrior was fast asleep, slumbering
as peacefully and as unconcernedly as though in his own kraal at home,
in that crater-like hollow beneath the towering round-topped cone of
Ibabanango. Oakley and Haviland burst out laughing.
"Well, he is a cool customer, and no mistake!" cried the former. "I've
a jolly good mind to follow his example, though. It's tiring work this
holding the fort, with nothing to drink, either."
"Better have some skoff first," said Haviland, "such as it is. That
hippo-shoot we were going to have to-morrow won't come off now, however
things go."
But little appetite had any of them for their wretched grain diet. A
long hot hour dragged its weary length, then another. The three white
men were dozing. The Arabs, their squares of praying carpets spread,
and with shoes off, were salaaming in the direction of Mecca, as
devoutly as their brethren in the faith and foes in arms were, or should
have been doing, out yonder in the opposing lines. Then suddenly the
alarm was given. A peril, imminent and wholly unlooked-for, had risen
up to confront them. In a moment every man was at his station, wide
awake now, alert, expectant.