The interview with Major von Rudenheim left Tom soberly reflective.
There could no longer be the least doubt that he was to be attacked.
The attempt to come to terms with him seemed to show that the Germans
were now under no illusions as to the strength of his position, and
wished to avoid operations which must involve the employment of a larger
force than the objective, from a strictly military point of view,
warranted. But their prestige was at stake throughout the whole region.
The native tribes, always restive under their galling yoke, would run
out of hand when it became generally known that the German power was
being set at defiance by an Englishman with a handful of negroes, and
that Germans were held in captivity. The menace of a great rising of
the blacks would grow increasingly serious, and the higher authorities,
having proved the uselessness of light measures, would now organise an
expedition in strength.
Tom felt confident in his ability to hold his own behind his defences,
provided they were not attacked by artillery; and the country between
the nullah and Bismarckburg, at all times difficult, was now rendered so
much more difficult by the rains that the transport of guns would be a
formidable undertaking. It might prove to be impossible. In that case
the attack should fail. Tom had under his command a hundred and
forty-seven able-bodied men, of whom a score were trained askaris, some
fifty Wahehe were fairly efficient with the rifle, another thirty could
handle fire-arms well enough to do considerable execution at short
range, and the remainder were expert with the spears they had made for
themselves. Behind their fortifications, each man would perhaps be
equal to three outside.
On the other hand, the difficulties of the defence were serious enough.
Provisions were running perilously low; if the nullah were besieged, the
end must come in about ten days. There was, further, the question of the
wounded. Casualties were bound to occur; the medical stores brought from
the plantation would be of little use in dealing with gunshot wounds:
there were no surgical appliances whatever. If Tom had known beforehand
what he was to learn before many days had passed, he might have met
Rudenheim's offer with a counter-proposal, instead of rejecting it
outright. New to warfare, he was ignorant of what fighting with modern
weapons means; but he foresaw suffering, and felt some uneasiness in
contemplating a possible long casualty list.
It was time to dispatch another messenger to Abercorn. Neither of his
former messengers had returned; possibly neither had got through; but
with the crisis imminent it was right to put the position clearly before
the British authorities. He adopted the same plan as before: sent
duplicate notes on successive days, announcing his expectation of
attack, and stating his determination to resist as long as his
provisions lasted.
Feeling it unwise to leave the nullah himself, he allowed Mirambo to
lead short shooting expeditions in the neighbourhood, to replenish the
larder. He devoted all his own energies to the maintenance and
strengthening of his fortifications, the drilling and exercising of the
men, and the allotment of duties to the non-combatants. Of these last
every man, and many women, had their definite tasks--to bring food and
ammunition to the fighting-posts, to remove and tend the wounded, and so
on.
His plan of defence was to post twenty men on the cleft at the north end
of the nullah, in case the enemy should again attempt an entrance by the
"back door," and to employ all the rest in the nullah itself. Seventy
men were told off to hold the first line--the barricade and the trenches
on the flanks; the remainder, in support, were to man the communication
trench, which led to a fold of the cliff face about a hundred and fifty
yards in the rear, and gave complete cover from enemy fire.
Waiting for critical events always puts a strain upon even the
stoutest-hearted. A schoolboy dreads the interval between the "call-up"
and the headmaster's thrashing more than the thrashing itself. The
soldier in the trenches knows more of the agony of fear when he awaits
the word of command than when he is actually going "over the top." As
day followed day, and no message came through the chain of scouts, Tom
found constant activity the only sedative for his overstrung nerves.
Two little incidents relaxed the tension. One morning, just as he was
leaving his hut, he heard a terrible shriek from the lake side. Rushing
forward, he saw, near the brink, a woman waving her arms frantically,
and calling to a little toddling child, who was wading in the shallow
water towards a bright flower a few yards away. In an instant Tom saw
the cause of the mother's agitation. Just beyond the glowing blossom, a
few inches above the surface, lay what appeared to be a log of greenish
wood. Tom sprang into the water, caught up the child, and darted back;
and the seeming log sank with a gurgle and disappeared. Crocodiles had
been rarely seen since the occupation of the nullah; apparently they had
been scared away by the noise of so many people, which, however, had now
lost its terrors for them. Tom gave the child back to his grateful
mother, and, using one of the few phrases in the Wahehe tongue that he
had picked up, bade the woman be careful.
It was in the afternoon of the next day that one of the messengers, sent
out more than a week before, returned: the other was never seen again.
The man was very proud of his success, and exhibited a small brass rod
given him as a reward by the m'sungu in Abercorn. Tom was more
interested to learn whether he had brought an answer to his message, and
the negro produced from his loin-cloth a small dirty envelope. Tearing
it open, Tom took out the still dirtier folded scrap of paper, which he
recognised at once as a leaf from his own pocket-book. One side bore
his message, now almost illegible; on the other he read the few words--
_Hold fast._
_T. Burnaby, Major._
"He's short of paper, I suppose," Tom thought; he learnt later that in
the army a superior officer writes his reply to a communication from a
subaltern on the back. "But he might have said a little more. Doesn't
promise anything. Cold comfort, Major Burnaby. Yet it _is_ comfort
after all. He wouldn't say 'hold fast' if he didn't think there was a
chance. Still, I'm glad I sent a second message: hope he gets it."
Towards ten o'clock on the fifth morning after the interview with Major
von Rudenheim, Tom was superintending work on the parapets of the
trenches when a message came from the nearest of his scouting posts.
From hill to hill had been shouted the news that a large column of white
men, askaris and porters, was marching along the Neu Langenburg road
from the direction of Bismarckburg.
"At last!"
Tom's exclamation had something of relief, from the strain of suspense;
something of anxiety, for what was to come. It was not certain, of
course, that the nullah was the enemy's objective, but he must act as if
it were. Within a few minutes every man had gone to his allotted post.
The source of the message was a hill many miles to the westward of the
track by which Rudenheim had come. Two hours afterwards it was reported
that the column had reached that track, but had halted in a glade beside
the road; the men had thrown themselves on the ground.
"They're taking a rest after their hilly march," thought Tom. "Or
perhaps they intend a night attack."
But a few minutes later another message suggested a different
explanation. From the further-most eastern post came word that a
smaller party was marching from the direction of Neu Langenburg
westward. It was formed mainly of porters, with a number of askaris and
two white men. Was it not a fair inference that the junction of the road
with the northward track had been appointed as rendezvous for both the
columns, and that either the one was before its time or the other was
late?
Tom made a rapid mental calculation, congratulating himself on the
personal knowledge of the road he had obtained in the course of his
round of inspection of the scouting posts. When the second column was
sighted (that is, only a few minutes before he heard of it), it must
have been nearly thirty miles from the rendezvous. Now, the spot where
the first column had halted was not the point on the Neu Langenburg road
that was nearest to the nullah. Some ten miles east of it there was a
scouting post closer to the nullah by about five miles; but the way to
it, though shorter, was much more arduous, and for that reason was not
at all likely to be chosen by the Germans as the route to their
objective. It seemed to Tom that by a rapid march with a light force he
might reach this spot on the road before the eastern column, and, given
favourable circumstances, prevent this column from joining the other. He
had a rosy vision of snapping up the stores it was conveying, with the
result that the threatened attack on the nullah would be at least
delayed, while his own resources would be increased.
There were two risks to be taken into consideration: the first, that the
western column might not await the arrival of the eastern before
resuming its march to the nullah; the second, that the road between them
would be so closely patrolled as to render intervention impossible. The
scouts, however, had not reported the passing of patrols; and as to the
first risk, it seemed unlikely that the officer in command would make
any further movement until his force was complete. The prize was great,
in Tom's eyes well worth the risk, and after a few minutes' cogitation
he determined to "put his fate to the touch."
Choosing forty of his best men to accompany him, with Mwesa and two of
M'setu's scouts, and leaving Mirambo in charge at the barricade, he
started southward. The route he must follow led over very hilly
country, covered in parts with forest, through which it might sometimes
be necessary to cleave a way. For this purpose he had ordered some of
his men to bring axes and bill-hooks, though he hoped that the scouts,
knowing the district thoroughly, would find a practicable track, and so
avoid the delays which cutting a path must involve.
It was fortunate that since the great storm the rainfall had been light;
otherwise much of the ground would now have become swamp, and put him at
a disadvantage compared with the enemy on the well-kept high road. Tom
had always been known among his friends as a good "foot-slogger," and,
hardened as he now was by constant exercise, he had no difficulty in
keeping up with his lithe and limber guides. The party covered the
first twelve miles in less than three hours, over a track that ran
almost due south from the nullah, and was very little obstructed. Then,
however, they came into broken country, with steeper ascents and
descents and thicker vegetation, where the pace was necessarily
slackened. Once or twice the men had to use their implements, and Tom
chafed at the delay; but he let no sign of impatience escape him, and
found a few cheery words of praise a potent stimulus to his willing
negroes.
Presently they came to a hill-stream flowing southward. An idea struck
Tom.
"Does this stream cross the high road?" he asked.
The scouts replied through Mwesa that it did.
"Then is there a bridge?"
He learnt that a bridge spanned the stream some distance east of the
post for which he had been making. The stream, which was much swollen
after a period of heavy rain, had cut a deep and wide channel, and
sometimes rose to within an arm's-length of the bridge. Now, however,
the rainfall for some days having been slight, it was likely that the
water was two men's height below the trestles of which the bridge was
made.
This information caused Tom to change his objective. Instead of
continuing along the forest track that led directly to the scouting
post, he followed the course of the stream, and in some twenty minutes
came in sight of the bridge far below. Calling a halt, he sent one of
the men to the scouting post on a hill-top invisible from his present
position, to inquire of the man stationed there whether he had seen
anything of the enemy's columns, or of patrols. The scout's report
being reassuring, Tom led his party down to the road, through the
brushwood, rank grass, and bushy shrubs that lined the bank of the
stream.
The ground within twenty yards of the road had evidently been at some
time cleared of the taller growing vegetation, no doubt to destroy
cover. But the lesser plants had sprung up only the more thickly,
furnishing safer cover even than the larger shrubs and trees above.
Tom's first idea had been to have the bridge hacked down. This would
have effectually checked the march of the columns along the road, and
the stream was here so wide and deep, and its banks so steep, that the
enemy could not have crossed it until the bridge had been repaired.
Second thoughts raised an objection to this obvious measure. The column
would almost certainly be preceded by an advance guard, who would
discover that the bridge was broken and give warning. The main body
would halt, and Tom would have no chance of getting possession of the
stores without a fight. Ignorant of the strength of the column, he dared
not risk exposing his small force of comparatively untrained men in the
open. Unless he should see a fair prospect of dealing the enemy a
"knock-out blow," he would do much better to keep his men out of sight,
and remain content with having prevented the two columns from joining
forces and thus delayed their advance on the nullah. But this would be
only partial success: something more was wanted for complete
satisfaction; and an examination of the bridge suggested to Tom what
seemed a better way.
Having first sent a couple of scouts in each direction along the road to
guard against surprise, he set three men with axes to cut nearly through
two of the piles supporting the bridge, one up, the other down stream,
just on the water line. A dozen others he sent a few yards along the
stream to weave two long, stout ropes from rushes and creepers. Expert
at this work, the natives in the course of an hour or so had completed
two serviceable ropes about thirty yards in length. Tom tested them by
means of an impromptu tug-of-war; then, the axe-men having long finished
their part of the job, he himself attached the ropes to the weakened
piles by means of bowlines in the notches and allowed them to sag into
the water. At intervals he weighted them with stones in order to keep
them below the surface, and carrying the free ends up stream, hid them
in the vegetation at the foot of the bank. All these operations near
the bridge were carried out by men wading in the water, in order that no
tracks on the ground should betray them to the enemy scouts.
Tom had only just completed his preparations when the scouts he had sent
eastward came running back with news that the enemy column was in sight.
There were two white officers, and an innumerable company of porters and
askaris The negro's inability to estimate number was a constant worry to
Tom: anything above ten might be reported as a host.
Withdrawing all his men about fifty yards up stream, and posting them
under cover of the rushes, he gave them precise orders as to what they
were to do when he blew his whistle. Until then no one was to whisper
or make the slightest movement. Each man held his rifle with bayonet
ready fixed. When he had proved that all were invisible from the road,
Tom found a spot where, concealed himself, he had a clear view of the
bridge.
He hoped that the period of waiting would not be long, for stillness and
silence taxed the negroes more than anything else he could have demanded
of them. Already there were signs of restlessness among them when,
about half an hour after they had taken up their positions, he caught
sight of two figures some distance away, approaching through the bush at
the edge of the cleared space skirting the road. An urgent whisper
reduced the Wahehe to stillness again. The two askaris came on quietly,
pausing now and again to peer into the thickets beyond the clearing.
Just before they reached the bridge they stepped into the road, and were
joined by two more askaris who had emerged from the bush on the other
side. The four men crossed the bridge together, separated at the
western end, and pursued their way in couples as before.
A few minutes later four files of askaris followed. At a short interval
came a connecting file, and then the main body, which consisted of two
parties of askaris marching in fours, with a gang of porters between
them. With each party there was a German N.C.O. Tom rapidly estimated
that the askaris numbered about sixty in all.
When the first party reached the bridge, they broke step and formed two
deep to cross. Tom waited until about twenty had gained the other side,
then blew his whistle. The Wahehe sprang to their feet. Ten of them
fired a volley at the enemy who were upon the bridge, then charged
through the thin scrub upon those who had crossed and, startled by the
shots and the cries, had wheeled round at the sharp order of their
sergeant. Meanwhile twenty men, with Tom at their head, had dashed
straight towards the road in the other direction until they had a clear
view of the second party beyond the porters, then halted, fired one
volley, and charged with the bayonet. At the same time, two groups of
five rushed to the spot where the ends of the ropes lay hidden, seized
them and hauled with a will. The nearer pile collapsed; the farther held
until all ten men tugged at the same rope. Then it snapped like the
other, and the whole central part of the bridge fell with a crash into
the stream, carrying with it one or two of the rear files of the
askaris.
Surprise is halfway to victory. Even European troops could hardly have
avoided confusion, however short-lived, when suddenly beset at close
quarters by an unsuspected enemy. The German sergeant who had crossed
the bridge hardly had time to bring his men into line before the Wahehe,
yelling the war-cry of their tribe, were among them. They were severed
from the other party by the broken bridge and the crowd of
panic-stricken porters, who flung down their loads and fled
helter-skelter into the bush. The sergeant and one or two more stood
firm and were cut down; the rest turned and bolted across the road,
seeking safety in the woods.
Meanwhile the sergeant in command of the second party, being farther
from the bridge, had had a few seconds longer to prepare to meet the
attack. Before Tom reached him he had halted his men, formed them up
hurriedly, and ordered them to fix bayonets. But the time was all too
short. The men were still fumbling when the impetuous Wahehe at Tom's
heels had surged from the clearing on to the road. Tom made straight
for the sergeant, and thrust at him with his bayonet. The German deftly
parried the stroke, but before he could himself take the offensive Tom
swung his rifle over and brought the butt up swiftly against his
opponent's chin. The man fell like a log. His askaris did not await the
touch of cold steel. Some flung up their hands, others took to their
heels, the yelling Wahehe panting behind them. Tom became alive to the
danger of his own men scattering in the pursuit and losing themselves in
the forest. With loud blasts of his whistle he sounded the signal for
recall. Some of the men obeyed instantly, but many minutes had passed
before all returned, and the weapons of most of them bore witness to the
work they had been doing.
Tom lost no time in taking stock of the situation. A few of the askaris
had been killed by rifle-shots, a few by bayonets. About twenty were
wounded, twelve so seriously that it was clear they could not be moved.
Rather more than twenty had surrendered. One of the German was killed,
the other lay where he had fallen. All the rest of the column were
scattered through the bush.
Examining the loads dropped by the porters, Tom found that about half
consisted of food, half of small-arm ammunition, both valuable booty. He
distributed the bales among the unwounded prisoners and some of his own
men, and sent them off at once on the return march to the nullah. For
the wounded he could do nothing. He ordered those who were slightly
injured to revive the sergeant with a dash of water from the stream, and
to render first aid to their helpless comrades, knowing that help would
be forthcoming from the western column as soon as fugitives had reported
the disaster.
By this time the last of the Wahehe had rejoined, and Tom set off on the
return journey, soon overtaking the carriers. He pressed the pace as
much as possible, though the risk of being pursued was slight. Late in
the afternoon, tired but jubilant, his men marched into the nullah, amid
exultant shouts from their fellows who manned the defences and the
non-combatants who crowded about them as they conveyed their spoils to
the village.
Tom discovered that only three of his men had been slightly wounded.
"Almost a bloodless victory," he said to himself. "What wonderful
luck!"
But the negroes, discussing the affair far into the night, did not speak
of luck. They talked of "white man's medicine," and assured one another
that their particular white man had better "medicine" than any one else
in the world.