Midnight passed: the still hours stole on; and Tom was dozing when Mwesa
roused him.
"Noise dis way, sah," said the boy.
Tom sprung up. From the direction of the forest came slight sounds.
The enemy were on the move. He sent to the trenches above the men
detailed to hold them: the rest he ordered to their posts behind the
barricade. Their movements were silent.
The sounds from without were so faint that it was clear the enemy hoped
for a surprise. Presently they ceased altogether, and Tom guessed that
the men had assembled in their trench and only awaited the word. At
each end of the barricade he had placed an askari with flares and
matches.
The silence was brief. Suddenly a whistle sounded. The air was rent
with a great shout as the enemy askaris leapt from the trench and surged
forward towards the barricade. Instantly Tom gave a signal; two blazing
flares soared over the barricade and fell on the ground beyond, lighting
up a wide space around them. Peering through a gap, Tom saw the line of
black men pressing on. Some carried axes, others oblong
hurdles--pontoons for throwing across the moat. Only a few seconds after
the signal for the attack had been given, another whistle cut the air.
From the barricade and the trenches above rifles flashed, and there were
gaps in the ranks of the assailants. In the pressure of a moment like
this regular volleys were impossible: each man fired as fast as he
could.
In spite of their losses the enemy pushed on with scarcely a check.
They had not yet fired a shot. Some crossed the moat with flying leaps
and began to hack at the barricade with their axes. Others rushed over
on the hurdles, and thrusting their rifles into the gaps, fired at
random. The defenders here, having emptied their magazines, lunged at
the foremost assailants with their bayonets, while the men in the raised
trenches kept up a hot fire on the supports rushing up behind. But the
stream seemed never to slacken. If a man fell back from the barricade,
another took his place. A big askari forced his way through a gap, and
wounded two men before he was transfixed by Mirambo's bayonet. Almost
before the bayonet could be withdrawn others of the enemy came through
at the same spot, and Mirambo and the men about him found themselves
engaged in a fierce hand-to-hand struggle. The same thing happened at
many parts of the defences, and though for every man who got through two
or three had been hurled back into the moat or among their comrades, it
was clear that by pressure of numbers the Wahehe must soon be
overwhelmed.
Tom created a temporary lull in the attack by emptying his revolver on
the largest group of the askaris. The flares having now gone out, he
took advantage of the darkness to sound the signal for withdrawal, and
his men, obedient to their training, rushed back into the trench and
reloaded. From beyond the barricade the enemy were pouring a hot fire
upon the higher trenches, and Tom knew by the sounds that there were
still large reserves to deal with. Coming to the conclusion that the
position at the entrance of the nullah could not be held much longer, he
sent the greater part of his force to take up new positions at the bend,
retaining a few to fight a rearguard action. But it appeared either
that the first ranks of the enemy were exhausted, or that they had had
orders not to push forward into the nullah at once after the entrance
had been won. Their officers, who had not yet come into view, probably
suspected that the nullah might have many traps and pitfalls for their
men in the darkness, and reckoned on an easy conquest in daylight. At
any rate there was no immediate pursuit, and within half an hour Tom had
withdrawn all his men into the trench at the bend.
A few minutes afterwards a flame burst out at the entrance, spreading
across the nullah from side to side. The enemy had set fire to the
shattered barricade. None of them were visible in the glare: it seemed
that, content with having forced the outer defence, the main body had
had returned to their trench to await the dawn, now near at hand.
When Tom numbered his men, he found that thirteen were missing, and some
thirty were wounded, many of them lightly. He felt a pang at the
thought that some of the thirteen were lying seriously wounded on the
field, but it was impossible to search for them.
He realised that he was now in the last ditch. If the enemy once rounded
the bend, the village on the high ground a quarter of a mile beyond
would be exposed to their fire, and for the sake of the non-combatants
it would be necessary to yield. True, given time, another trench might
be dug across the nullah, and the enemy's advance delayed again there;
but his men were too weary to start digging at once, and, in any case,
it was unlikely that the work could be completed in the short hour
before dawn. There was nothing to be done but to hold the trench as
long as possible, and inflict such losses on the enemy that they would
be compelled to await reinforcements before attempting a final assault.
They might even be satisfied with having captured the entrance, and
leave the rest to time and famine. Escape was impossible, for, knowing
of the "back door," they would certainly take care to block exit that
way, which could easily be done by posting a few men at the head of the
narrow cleft.
What hope was there of relief from the British border? In reply to his
note a Major Burnaby had bidden him "hold fast," a message that seemed
to hold some slight promise of help. Would that help come in time? If
the enemy were in sufficient strength, a few hours might see the defence
overwhelmed and the little community at the mercy of the conquerors.
How many days was it since he had received Major Burnaby's message?
Three?--or four? He could not tell. He had lost count of time. So
obsessed had he been with the problems of the defence that he had given
scarcely a thought to what might have been passing in the village. Moses
had kept the fighting men supplied with food, sending down carriers
under cover of night. The men on guard at the cleft had reported that
all was well, and the single sentry who kept watch on the island prison
had sent word that the firing had at first caused some excitement among
the prisoners. They had grouped themselves on the shore, gazing down
the nullah, talking to one another--all but Reinecke, who had stood
apart from the rest, and sometimes walked up and down with quick
impatient footsteps, twirling his long white moustache. Tom had not
seen how the sound of the shells had caused the women and children to
huddle together and sit cowering and moaning in their huts. He had not
heard their wails when word came that such-and-such were dead, nor their
croons of pity and tenderness as they did their little best for those
who were wounded. All his thoughts were centred on the one pressing
problem: how to hold out, to wear down the enemy, to gain time.
When morning dawned he looked anxiously down the nullah. Its downward
slope enabled him to survey its whole length to the entrance without
unduly exposing himself. He saw a few figures moving about where the
barricade had been, but between him and them none of the enemy was in
sight. The vegetation on either side of the stream, growing to the
bases of the precipitous sides, would shelter hundreds: had any of them
crept up towards him under this cover during the night? He could not
tell; nor dared he send out scouts to reconnoitre.
Presently he saw that the men at the entrance had been joined by two
white officers. The Germans, who had kept in the background while the
askaris fought at the barricade, had now come forward to inspect the
position and direct the further operations. Their intentions were soon
made manifest. There was a burst of smoke from the middle of the burnt
barricade, and a shell exploded on the cliff-side just behind the
trench. Tom at once withdrew his men to the cover of the bushes beyond
the bend, leaving only a handful in the trench to fire if any of the
enemy showed themselves within effective range. The bombardment thus
opened did not greatly disturb him. The bend effectually protected his
men from harm, and the gun was not of a calibre large enough to demolish
the trench, of which only a portion was visible to the gunners. Some
damage was done to the parapet on the eastern side, but the enemy's
object was clearly to intimidate the defenders, for the futility of
their shots, in a material sense, must have been clear to them.
It was clear, too, that they had learnt to respect the quality of the
defence opposed to them. They gave no sign of an intention to advance in
the open. The bombardment was vigorous and sustained, but except for
the few figures moving about the gun at the entrance, not a man of them
was seen. This inaction seemed ominous to Tom. He could not think that
they meditated another night attack, for, unfamiliar with the ground,
they would be at a disadvantage in darkness. Was it not more probable
that, relying on the bombardment to distract the defenders and to drive
them under cover, they were creeping through the brushwood nearer and
nearer to the trench, and would by-and-by make a rush, with the hope of
profiting by surprise? This was the movement that he most dreaded,
because the result must depend absolutely on the numbers opposed to him.
Just after mid-day the bombardment suddenly ceased. For a few minutes
there was a breathless silence in the nullah: nothing was heard but the
gurgling of the stream. Then the storm broke. From the bushes on each
side, within a hundred yards of the trench, burst a swarm of men at the
double. Tom had already summoned his men to their posts in the trench,
and the masses of the enemy had covered only a few yards when they
encountered a hail of lead from the parapet. In spite of many gaps in
their crowded ranks they dashed forward with ferocious yells, and
pressed the charge up to the very edge of the trench. There, however,
they came under fire from some of the best marksmen, whom Tom had
stationed in the block-houses and also in the bushes on higher ground in
the rear. They reeled under the double fire; a few who sprang over the
parapet into the trench were bayoneted or clubbed; the rest turned and
fled panic-stricken into the cover they had lately left with such
confidence, many of them falling to the shots of the triumphant Wahehe.
In the silence that followed, Tom was startled by sounds of firing from
the north. It flashed upon him that the Germans had arranged a
simultaneous attack on the cleft. The guard of twenty men he had posted
there, behind their barricades, ought to be able to hold their own on
ground so favourable to them; but Tom at this moment felt that he must
see for himself how they were faring. The repulse of the main attack
gave him at least a respite: he would not be absent more than thirty or
forty minutes; so leaving Mirambo in command, he hurried up the nullah.
On the way he was met by Moses himself, running to tell him that the men
above had sent word that the enemy was upon them, and asking that the
m'sungu would come to their assistance. Knowing the nature of the ground
they were defending, Tom guessed that the support they craved was rather
moral than material. He did not care to send for reinforcements to
Mirambo, who might yet be hard pressed; but as he passed through the
village he collected half a dozen men who had been slightly wounded in
the first action, and ordered them to follow him up the ladder. Unknown
to him they were joined by the armed sentry who patrolled the lake-side
opposite the island. The man afterwards explained that he was tired of
watching prisoners, and wished to have his share in useful work.
Tom found, as he had expected, that the men guarding the cleft had no
reason to be alarmed. Posted behind the first of the barricades
commanding a difficult passage along which the enemy must come in single
file, they could have held the position indefinitely. It appeared that
the sight of a white officer among the askaris who had emerged from the
end of the ravine had struck them with dread: how could black men stand
against a m'sungu? They hailed Tom's arrival with shouts of delight.
Being for once unaccompanied by Mwesa, he was unable to cheer them with
words; but he managed to make them understand by signs that he trusted
them, stayed with them for a few minutes while they fired at the enemy,
who showed no eagerness to risk the perils of advancing against a
position so formidable; then, confident that all was safe in this
quarter, at any rate for a time, hastened back to where the danger
threatened.
Just before he came to the rock from which the lake was visible, he
heard shouts of alarm and excitement from below. Surely the enemy could
not already have broken through? There had been no firing. Hurrying
down at some risk of a fall, he halted at the rock in amazement at an
extraordinary drama that was being enacted.
Between the island and the shore a crazy raft was rocking in the water,
under the paddles, rough branches of trees, wielded in desperate haste
by the German prisoners. From Tom's high position the reason of their
frantic exertions was only too apparent. He could see far into the
clear water of the lake. About the raft it was alive with crocodiles.
The hideous reptiles swam round and round, sheering off where the water
was churned by the paddles, but pushing their snouts on to the edges of
the raft where the paddlers stood.
The scene would have been laughable but for a possible element of
tragedy. The raft was so slight, evidently so hastily put together,
that it dipped now on one side, now on another, under the strokes of the
paddles or the pressure of the crocodiles' snouts. Water poured over
it. The men dared not shift their positions, for every moment
threatened to make it capsize. Divided between anxiety to gain the
shore and the urgency of beating off their horrid foes, they used their
futile paddles, now for propelling the raft, now for smiting the
reptiles' heads.
"The madmen!" thought Tom. "How do they suppose they can escape? But
where is the sentry?"
Women and children, shouting and screaming, thronged the shore, but
there was no armed man among them.
Tom watched the scene as if fascinated. The positions of the men on the
raft had evidently been arranged with care to ensure its balance, which
was disturbed from moment to moment by the violence of their blows. In
spite of all, they were making progress towards the lake-side. Suddenly,
in a moment, Fate said her last word to Curt Reinecke. Intending to
strike a snout that had just slid on to the raft almost at his feet, he
overreached himself, the raft tilted, and he was in the water. The
shriek that rose from the unhappy man rang long in Tom's ears. At the
spot where he had fallen there was a furious swirl as the crocodiles
crowded together, and disappeared into the depths of the lake.
For a moment Tom was paralysed with horror. Then collecting himself, he
hastened down to the lake, and summoned the women to assist him in
launching the large raft on which food was taken to the prisoners.
Reinecke's fate had given the others a short respite. Before the
reptiles returned to the surface the Germans had transferred themselves
from the one raft to the other, and pale, cowed, trembling mortals, were
paddled to the shore.
Tom had no time to question them, or to inquire about the missing
sentry. The sound of scattered shots drew him at his best speed towards
the trench. When he reached it, he found that his men were sniping at
individual askaris who were hurriedly making their way, not up, but down
the nullah. Surely the enemy were not withdrawing?
"Me hear shots long way off, sah," said Mwesa, running towards his
master excitedly.
Tom thrilled from top to toe.
"Are you sure?" he asked.
"Sure nuff, sah. Mirambo he say no: old ears, sah, no can hear, same as
me."
Tom wondered. Could it be true? Was the long-expected relief coming at
last? Could there be any other explanation of distant firing? He
strained his ears for the welcome sound. He gazed towards the end of
the nullah. There were certainly signs of activity there. And then
came the sound that could not be mistaken. Somewhere to the south rapid
rifle fire was going on.
For a few moments all other feelings were submerged in overpowering
thankfulness. Then the possibilities of the situation struck upon his
mind. It was clear that some of the enemy had been withdrawn to meet
this attack in their rear. Had they all gone? Had the conquest of the
nullah been wholly abandoned? That must be put to the test.
He sent Mirambo out with a dozen sharpshooters to feel his way down the
nullah. Stealing along under cover of the bushes, the men had gone
nearly two hundred yards before the sound of shots reached the trench.
A scout hurried back to report that the whole of the enemy force was
retreating. Tom instantly collected all his remaining fighting men, and
led them down after Mirambo's party.
Presently another scout came with the news that the enemy had not all
left the nullah, but had manned the old trench just within the
barricade. Tom felt his way forward cautiously through the bush, and
overtook Mirambo where he had halted about a hundred yards from the
trench. Southward the crackle of rifle-fire was growing louder and more
distinct. It would be a pity to lose an opportunity of routing the
troops who still remained in the nullah, dispirited as they must be by
the knowledge that a fight was going on in their rear.
Tom jumped at the chance of employing against the enemy the manoeuvre
which the enemy had unsuccessfully employed against him. He ordered the
greater part of his men to creep through the trees and bush on each
side, taking care to avoid making the least noise, and to halt when they
came within fifty yards of his old trench, now manned by the enemy. At
the same time, to divert attention, he sent word to the men he had left
at the bend to fire a shot occasionally, aiming at the cliffs.
When all was ready he gave the signal, and with a vociferous whoop
eighty men sprang from their places of concealment and followed him in a
whirlwind dash upon the trench. The askaris there, taken aback by this
sudden charge of an enemy who had hitherto stood wholly on the
defensive, had no ears for the commands of their German lieutenant.
Without pausing even to fire one volley, they sprang out of the trench,
sprinted over the ruins of the barricade, leapt the moat or crossed by
the hurdles, and fled helter-skelter into the forest, flinging away
their arms as they ran.
Tom's men dashed after them in a flush of enthusiasm; among the pursuers
none were nimbler or more excited than the captured askaris. Tom
shouted to them to take the fugitives prisoners, and not to use their
weapons except against those who resisted. As for himself, he put every
ounce of what little energy remained to him into the chase of the German
officer, who, finding himself deserted by his men, had shown a clean
pair of heels. Tom was up with him before he gained the forest. The
German, aware that he was outrun, suddenly swung round and half raised
his arm to fire his revolver. But he was a shade too late. Tom hurled
himself upon him with all the impetus gained in his sprint across the
clearing, struck the revolver from his hand with his left fist, and with
his right dealt the officer a smashing blow on the chin that sent him
headlong backward with a crash.
Leaving him to be picked up by some of the older and less fleet-footed
of the negroes, Tom hurried on towards the sounds of firing. He had no
need to go far. Fugitives from the nullah had reached their comrades,
who were falling back before a force of white men and Rhodesian police
advancing on a wide front. Realising that they were between two fires,
the enemy gave up the hopeless struggle, and scattered to right and
left, seeking safety in the pathless forest. The firing ceased, and
within ten minutes of leaving the nullah Tom was grasping the hand of a
tall bronzed Englishman who bore a major's crown upon his sleeve.
"Tom Willoughby, I suppose," said that officer, looking with a quizzical
smile into the tired brown eyes on a level with his own.
"You're Major Burnaby?"
"Yes. A nice little scoop, eh? Now, we've no time to lose. Take me to
your nullah. Your people must trek at once. We've cut the wires on the
Neu Langenburg road. Two detachments half a mile apart are holding a
place clear for our crossing. With luck we'll get through before they
send up troops from Bismarckburg. But we must hurry."