WHEREIN ARE DESCRIBED AN ASSAULT, A FURIOUS FIGHT, AND SOME STRANGE
PERSONAL ENCOUNTERS.
It was nearly two o'clock in the afternoon when Captain Lacey and his
company resumed their place in the square.
About that time an officer of the Berkshire Regiment represented the
condition of his men as requiring attention. They certainly did require
it, for they had been without food since four o'clock that morning, and
were consequently in urgent need of provender as well as rest and
water--the last having been all consumed.
As it was imperative that the work should go on, it was found necessary
to serve out food by wings.
Accordingly, the men of one half-battalion received rations and water,
and were then sent to their zereba with the Gardner guns, while the
other half, still lying in reserve by their piled arms, received their
rations.
The marines also sat down for brief rest and refreshment. Among them
was our sedate friend Stevenson, who invariably carried his small Bible
with him in all his campaigns. After quickly consuming his allowance,
and while waiting for water, he sat down to read a few verses of the
23rd Psalm,--for Stevenson was one of those quiet, fearless men who
cannot be laughed out of doing right, and who have no fear of the face
of man, whether scowling in anger or sneering in contempt.
"Hallo, Tom!" said a light-hearted comrade near him, "this is a queer
time to be readin' your Bible. We'll be havin' you sayin' your prayers
next!"
"I've said _them_ already, Fred," replied the marine, replacing the book
in his pouch. "As you say, it _is_ a queer time to be readin' the Word,
but not an unsuitable time, for this may be the last chance that you and
I will ever have of readin' it. Our next orders may be to meet God face
to face."
Stevenson was yet speaking when a Lancer was seen approaching at a wild
gallop. He dashed up to the generals and informed them that the enemy
was gathering in front.
The message was barely delivered when another Lancer rode up and
reported the enemy close at hand.
The order, "Stand to your arms!" was promptly given and as promptly
obeyed, without flurry or disorder.
Next minute a wild uproar was heard, and the Lancers were seen galloping
towards the square with thousands of the swarthy warriors of the desert
at their heels--nay, even mixed up with them!
On they came, a dark, frantic, yelling host, with irresistible fury,
and, perchance, patriotism! Shall we deny to those men what we claim
for ourselves--love of hearth and home, of country, of freedom? Can we
not sympathise with men who groaned under an insolent and tyrannical
yoke, and who, failing to understand or appreciate, the purity of the
motives by which we British were actuated, could see nothing in us
except the supporters of their enemies?
They hurled themselves on that part of the large zereba which was
defended by the Bengal Native Infantry. These fired a volley, but
failed to check the impetuous rush. Everything went down before the
savages, and the Native Infantry broke and fled, throwing into dire
confusion the transport animals which stood in their immediate rear.
General McNeill himself dashed in among the panic-stricken men and
sought to arrest them. He succeeded for a time in rallying some of them
in Number 1 zereba, but another rush of the Arabs sent them flying a
second time, and some of the enemy got into the square, it is said, to
the number of 112. The Berkshire men, however, stood fast, and not a
soul who got into that square ever got out of it alive. In this
wretched affair the 17th Bengal Native Infantry lost their brave
commander. He was killed while trying to rally them.
The confusion was now increased by the enemy driving the baggage-animals
hither and thither, especially on to another half-battalion square of
the Berkshire Regiment. Here, however, they were effectually checked.
As the Atlantic billows burst in impotent turmoil on the cliffs of
Cornwall, so the enemy fell upon and were hurled back by the steadfast
Berkshire Regiment, which scarcely lost a man, while over two hundred of
their opponents lay dead around them.
The Bombay Regiment also stood fast, and redeemed, to some extent, the
credit of their country; while the Sikhs, as might have been expected of
them, never flinched for a moment, but strewed the plain around them
with dead and dying men.
There was horrible carnage for some time--unflinching valour being
opposed to desperate courage; and while a burning sense of injury, with
a resolve to conquer or die, was the motive power, no doubt, on one
side, on the other there was the high sense of duty to Queen and
country, and the pride of historical renown.
Owing to the suddenness of the attack, and the occupation of the troops
at the moment, there was some mixing up of men of different regiments.
One company of Sikhs, who were helping to unload the camels when the
fight began, having been prevented from joining their own regiment, cast
in their lot with the marines. The better to help their European
comrades these vigorous fellows leaped outside the zereba and lay down
in front of it, and the two bodies together gave the charging foe such a
warm reception that they never got within twenty yards of them.
But there was a fearful scene of butchery among the baggage-animals, and
many unequal hand-to-hand conflicts. There was terrible slaughter also
among the working parties that had gone out to cut bushes with which to
finish the zerebas, with coats off and away from their arms. Some
individuals of the marines, who, as a body, suffered severely, were
surrounded by a dozen Arabs, and their bodies were afterwards found
covered with spear-wounds. This was the case with a sergeant named
Mitchel, who had charge of a wood-cutting party and had been quietly
chatting with our friend Stevenson just before the attack. Another case
was that of Private Stanton, who had been through the Egyptian campaign
of 1882, had fought at Kassassin, Tel-el-Kebir, El-Teb, and Tamai. When
this expedition of which we write was arranged, he was one of the first
to volunteer. He chanced to be outside the zereba when the attack was
made, and failed to appear at muster. Next day he was found dead, with
many spear-wounds, at some distance from the force. Poor fellow! he had
not been killed outright, and had attempted to crawl towards the
zerebas, but in his confusion had crept away in the wrong direction, and
had slowly bled to death on the sands of the desert.
During the rapid progress of this terrible scene of bloodshed, Miles and
his friend Armstrong stood and fought shoulder to shoulder in the front
rank at their allotted corner of the square--chiefly with bullet, but
also, on several occasions, with bayonet, when the rush of the enemy
threatened to break through all barriers, and drive in the line of
defenders. They would certainly have succeeded, had these defenders
been less powerful and resolute.
"Well done!" exclaimed a deep bass voice, in evident enthusiasm, close
to Miles.
The latter glanced round. It was the voice of his friend Jack Molloy,
who helped to work the Gardner gun, and who was at the moment admiring
the daring act of an officer of Sikhs.
Two men of the Berkshire Regiment, who had been employed outside the
zereba, were pursued by several Arabs, and it was evident that their
death was almost certain, when the Sikh officer referred to rushed out
to the rescue, sprang between the men and their pursuers, killed three
of the latter in succession with three rapid sword-cuts, and enabled the
soldiers to escape, besides which, he checked the rush at that part of
the square, and returned to his post in safety.
The cheer of the Berkshire men and others who witnessed this feat was
heard to rise above even the yells of combatants, the shrieks of the
wounded, the rattle and crash of fire-arms, and the general turmoil and
din of war.
In one of the working parties that were out when the assault began was
our friend Moses Pyne and his comrade Rattling Bill Simkin. These had
been separated from the rest of their party when the first wild rush was
made by the foe. The formation of the ground favoured their dropping
into a place of concealment, thus for the moment saving them from the
fate of being surrounded and cut to pieces, like too many of their
straggling comrades. For a few seconds they lay close while the enemy
rushed past like a torrent, to the assault just described.
Then Moses uprose, with an expression of stern resolve on his usually
meek countenance.
"Simkin," he said, as his comrade also got up, "I'm not goin' to lie
hidin' here while our boys are engaged wi' the savages."
"No more am I, Moses," returned Rattling Bill, with something of the
jovially reckless air still lingering on his solemnised visage. "But
we've not much chance of getting back to the zerebas without arms."
"What d'ee call _that_?" asked Moses, holding out his chopper.
"A very good weapon to fight the bush with," answered Simkin, "but not
worth much against Arab spears. However, comrade, choppers are all we
have got, so we must make the most of 'em. They say a good workman can
work with any tools. What d'ee propose to try? I'll put myself under
your orders, Moses; for, although you are a meekish sort of a fellow, I
really believe you have a better headpiece than most of us."
"I propose that we simply go at 'em," said Moses. "Take 'em in rear,
cut our way through, and get into the zereba--that's all. It don't take
much of a headpiece to think that out."
"Go ahead, then! I'll back you," said Rattling Bill, without the least
touch of bravado, as he bared his right arm to the shoulder. Both men
were in shirts and trousers, with sleeves tucked up and their brawny
arms exposed--Arabesquely brown up to the elbow, and infantinely white
above that!
The intended rush might have been successful, but for a change in the
tactics of the enemy. Seeing that they were severely repulsed at the
corner of the square, where Molloy and his tars worked the Gardner gun,
while Miles and his comrades plied bullet and bayonet, the Arab chief
sent a body of his followers to reinforce this point. It was just at
the moment that Moses and Simkin made the dash from their place of
concealment, so that they actually leaped, without having intended it,
into the very midst of the reinforcements!
Two of the Arabs went down before the choppers instantly, and the
others--almost panic-stricken by the suddenness and severity of the
assault--turned to fly, supposing, no doubt, that an ambush had caught
them. But seeing only two men they ran back, and would certainly have
made short work of them if rescuers had not come up.
And at this point in the fight there was exhibited a curious instance of
the power of friendship to render steady men reckless. The incident we
have just described was witnessed by the troops, for, the moment the two
soldiers left their place of concealment they were in full view of the
large zereba.
"That's Moses!" exclaimed Armstrong excitedly.
Without a moment's hesitation he sprang over the defence-works and ran
to the rescue, clubbing his rifle as he went and felling two Arabs
therewith.
"You shan't die alone, Willie!" muttered our hero, as he also leaped the
fence and followed his friend, just in time to save him from three Arabs
who made at him simultaneously. Two of these Miles knocked down; his
comrade felled the other. Then they turned back to back; Moses and
Simkin did the same, and thus formed a little _impromptu_ rallying
square. This delayed the catastrophe, which seemed, however,
inevitable. The brave little quartette, being surrounded by foes, could
do nothing but parry with almost lightning speed the spear-thrusts that
were made at them continually.
Seeing this, the heart of Jack Molloy bounded within him, and friendship
for the moment overcame the sense of duty.
"You can only die once, Jack!" he exclaimed, drew his cutlass, leaped
out of the zereba, and went at the foe with a thunderous roar, which,
for a moment, actually made them quail.
Infected with a similar spirit, Stevenson, the marine, also lost his
head, if we may say so. Resolving to run a-muck for friendship's sake,
he followed the sailor, and increased the rallying square to five, while
Molloy skirmished round it, parrying spear-thrusts, at once with left
arm and cutlass, in quite a miraculous manner, roaring all the time like
an infuriated lion, and causing the enemy to give back in horror
wherever he made a rush.
A root, however, tripped him up at last, and he fell forward headlong to
the ground. A dozen spears were pointed at his broad back, when a tall
majestic Arab sprang forward and held up one hand, while with the other
he waved a sword.
At that moment a strong force of the enemy came down with an impetuous
rush on that corner of the zereba, and, coming between it and the little
knot of combatants, hid them from view.
The attack at this point was very determined, and for a few moments the
issue seemed doubtful, for although the enemy fell in heaps they came on
in such numbers that the defenders were almost overwhelmed. Steadiness,
however, combined with indomitable courage, prevailed. Everywhere they
were repulsed with tremendous loss. Many instances of personal bravery
occurred, of course, besides those we have described, but we may not
pause to enumerate these. Tenacity of life, also, was curiously
exhibited in the case of some of the desperately wounded.
One man in charge of two mules outside the zereba was trying to bring
them in when he was attacked, and received three terrible spear-wounds
in the back and one in the arm, which cut all the muscles and sinews.
Yet this man ultimately recovered, though, of course, with the loss of
his arm.
Another man lost a leg and an arm, and was badly wounded in the other
leg and in the hand, and, lastly, he was shot in the jaw. After being
operated on, and having his wounds dressed, the doctor asked him how he
felt.
"All right, sir," he answered. "They've crippled me in arms and legs,
and they've broke my jaw, but, thank God, they have not broke my heart
yet!"
It was eight minutes to three when the Arabs made their first rush, and
it was just ten minutes past three when the enemy was finally repelled
and the bugle sounded "Cease firing." Yet into these pregnant eighteen
minutes all that we have described, and a vast deal more, was crowded.
Nearly four hundred of our men were killed and wounded, while the enemy,
it is believed, lost over two thousand.
It is said by those who were present at the engagement that the officers
of the 17th Bengal Infantry were heard to say that if their men had not
given way, there would have been no "disaster" at all, and General
McNeill instead of being accused of permitting himself to be surprised,
would have got credit for a heroic defence against overwhelming odds.
If he had carried out his instructions, and pressed on to the end of
eight miles, instead of prudently halting when he did, there can be no
doubt that the force would have been surprised and absolutely cut to
pieces.