In the Nick of Time
"STEADY, lads! Aim low. Don't throw a single shot away."
Calmly and resolutely Captain M'Bride's voice travelled along the
whole length of the trench. Every man possessing a rifle gripped the
weapon resolutely, while the rest of the defenders, armed with
whatever means of defence came to hand, braced themselves for the
coming desperate struggle.
It was close on sunset. Not a breath of wind tempered the still
stifling heat. The gale of wind that had beset the whaler had not yet
reached the sun-baked sand-dunes where the _Portchester Castle's_
survivors still held grimly to their scanty defences.
After a series of feints extending over the greater part of the day,
the Senussi were at last about to make a determined onslaught. The
camel-men had dismounted and sent their docile animals out of harm's
way, but the horsemen had massed in a long curved line of foot. There
was some semblance of military order in the array, taught no doubt by
their former Turkish instructors, for on each flank, and on rising
ground, riflemen were posted so as to pour a converging force upon
the British, while the horsemen, supported by hundreds of dismounted
Arabs armed with sword and spear, charged the extreme left of the
defences.
This was a masterly stroke that Captain M'Bride had not anticipated,
for here the trench ran in a diagonal direction to the sea, and if
carried would expose the rear of the centre to a flanking and
enfilading fire. But what the attackers did not know was the
existence of a novel form of _fougasse_--the row of petrol tins.
Clearly the foremost of the assailants were visible in the slanting
rays of the setting sun. Behind them followed a cloud of sand, thrown
up by the horses' hoofs, through which could be discerned the
indistinct forms of a howling mob of fanatical warriors armed with
cold steel. In the forefront rode a tall bearded fellow with green
jibbah and turban. With his right hand he brandished a long, straight
two-edged sword, while in his left he bore a green banner with a
scarlet crescent.
"They are not fighting under Turkish colours," remarked Captain
M'Bride to Dacres, who stood by his side. "A sort of Holy War banner,
I take it."
Evidently Afir-al-Bahr was of the same opinion, and, finding that he
had not to fight against a force under the Turkish Crescent, he
picked up a huge axe that had come ashore in one of the ship's boats.
"What's that fellow doing?" enquired the skipper hurriedly.
Dacres, whose service in Egypt had made him fairly proficient with
the language of the Eastern Mediterranean States, spoke a few words
to the Turkish airman.
"I think it's all right, Captain M'Bride," explained Dacres. "The man
has no intention of breaking his parole. He knows quite well that if
he should fall alive into the hands of the Senussi their treatment
would be much worse than ours. He told me that some time ago a party
of these meek and mild gentlemen mutinied, and murdered their Ottoman
officers."
"Then let him carry on," decided the skipper. He gave a quick glance
in the direction of the oncoming foe. The foremost were now within
two hundred yards.
"Volley firing by sections--ready!"
A well-timed volley burst from the British trench. The high-velocity
bullets, fired at point-blank range, wrought havoc in the crowded
ranks of the Senussi. Saddles were emptied by the dozen, and before
the stricken riders had time to fall to the ground the second section
poured in a murderous fire.
Yet undaunted the Senussi pressed on, the standard-bearer, apparently
unhurt, still brandishing his gleaming weapon. Then, slowly yet
surely, he began to lean forward until he lay across the horse's
neck. The banner dropped from his nerveless grasp just as a bullet,
striking the animal on its white blaze, brought man and steed to the
ground.
In an instant another Arab had snatched up the green flag, and, with
redoubled shouts, the dense and now disorganized mob came thundering
across the level stretch of ground in front of the zariba.
It was now Osborne's time to take up the work with which the absent
Webb had charged him. Already one of the bright-red petrol cans had
been holed by a couple of accurately placed shots, and the highly
volatile fluid was escaping and soaking into the hot sand. The
Lieutenant could even detect the pungent fumes of the evaporating
spirit. Raising the short, smooth-bored pistol, Osborne pressed the
trigger. The missile--a red rocket--burst against the perforated tin,
just as the foremost of the assailants were leaping over the mound
that partly concealed the line of tins.
The next instant flames shot twenty feet or more into the air--a fire
so intense that the heat could be distinctly felt by the defenders of
the trench, while the zariba quivered in the current of air set up by
the sudden rise of temperature.
Five seconds later the adjacent tin exploded, and then another and
another, until the tongues of fire darted a good fifty feet skywards.
That part of the attack was checked and beaten back. The fire barrage
was impassable; but on the enemy's left their impetuous rush brought
them right up to the zariba.
Dauntlessly the Arabs sought to tear away the prickly barrier. Rifles
cracked, but the number of small arms at the disposal of the British
was insufficient to annihilate--it could only diminish--the great
superiority of the enemy's forces.
Several of the seamen, armed with knives and marline-spikes lashed to
the end of oars and poles, rendered yeoman service by the use of
these improvised pikes. Others, having provided themselves with a
supply of large stones, hurled them across the intervening barrier at
the nearmost of their assailants.
Nor was Afir-al-Bahr to be denied. With his axe he fought
desperately, dealing smashing blows whenever a fanatical Arab
succeeded in getting within reach.
For some moments the situation was extremely critical. The improvised
pikes were no match for the long broad-bladed, razor-edged spears,
and the advantage of fighting behind the zariba was fast disappearing
as the fearless and desperate Senussi persevered in the work of
tearing away the wall of thorns.
Against these tremendous odds the handful of the _Portchester
Castle's_ crew fought magnificently, making the best use of their
ungainly weapons. British courage and dogged pluck were there. The
men meant to hold their position at all costs, but already the
numbers were being thinned by the relentless pressure of the Arab
assault.
At this critical juncture Captain M'Bride, realizing that the British
left was in no immediate danger--for the contents of the whole line
of exploded petrol cans were blazing furiously--rushed up every
available rifleman. In a few moments the attack, that had had every
appearance of being successful, broke down. The Arabs melted away,
the survivors retreating in disorder, leaving fifty or more of their
number huddled in front of the partly demolished zariba, and others
at varying distances from the defences.
"We've been and gone and done it now," commented Major Fane.
"How's that?" queried Dacres, as he held out his left wrist for his
chum to apply a bandage to a deep but clean gash caused by the
partly-parried thrust of a spear.
"We've fired all the petrol except the two tins we held in reserve.
We have none available to repeat the dose."
"I fancy they've had quite enough, eh, what?" rejoined Dacres.
"Thanks, old man, it feels absolutely all right. A trifle on the
tight side, perhaps, but for an amateur, Billy, you know how to
doctor a fellow. Hallo, Osborne; how goes it? My word, that petrol
flare shook 'em up a bit; but we needn't have used the lot. I was
just saying----"
"It is indeed unfortunate," interposed Captain M'Bride. "We certainly
ought not to have used the whole quantity. I had no idea that it
would make such a furnace. Nearly lifted my eyebrows off, by Jove!"
"It's my opinion that the Arabs won't come up for a second dose,"
remarked Dacres.
"If they do they'll exercise more caution," said the skipper. "We
must be prepared for a night attack. I've told off a party to pick up
the rifles, ammunition, and spears of the Senussi left on the field.
Mr. Osborne, will you see that the zariba is repaired?"
The Lieutenant saluted, and hurried away to carry out the Captain's
order. Already twenty additional Mauser rifles had been brought in,
and about four hundred rounds of ammunition. These were served out to
the seamen, the recipients being specially cautioned to keep the
captured ammunition apart from the British Service cartridges, so
that no confusion would arise in the event of a possible attack
during the hours of darkness.
Osborne had not allowed the lessons of the grim conflict to pass
without gaining useful hints. At his suggestion the zariba was
increased in thickness, the height remaining the same, while the
ground for a width of twenty yards in front was liberally "salted"
with sharp-pointed thorns that were buried "business end uppermost"
in the sand, leaving a couple of inches projecting as a trap for
unwary and unshod feet.
Since there was not another _fougasse_ to fire, the Lieutenant loaded
the Very's pistol and lashed it to the stump of a bush about a
hundred yards from the trenches. To the trigger he tied a thin piece
of cord, obtained by unreeving the strands of a length of rope, and
secured the other end to a picket driven deeply into the sand. In the
event of any of the Senussi creeping up to the defences at night,
contact with the cord would instantly give the alarm.
By dint of hard work, these preparations were completed before the
short twilight gave place to intense darkness. It was now blowing
hard from the nor'east, and, in spite of the fact that only a narrow
strip of ground lay between the rear of the trenches and the sea, the
defences were exposed to irritating clouds of fine sand that
penetrated almost everything--even the intricate breech-mechanism of
the magazine rifles.
"I wonder how the whaler is faring?" was the question that rose to
the lips of almost every member of the shipwrecked crew, not once but
many times. With the rising breeze the men realized that the boat had
a dead beat to wind'ard, and that, even if she could still carry
canvas, her progress towards the distant goal would be very, very
slow.
The night was cold, for the sand radiated its heat with remarkable
rapidity, while the on-shore wind was bitterly keen. Without adequate
clothing the men suffered acutely, their condition accentuated by the
quick contrast with the scorching rays of the sun during the day.
Those not detailed for sentry work huddled together in the trenches,
the wounded being provided with awnings fashioned from the boats'
sails stretched between pairs of oars. Slowly the hours passed, for,
although not a single watch belonging to the castaways had survived
the prolonged immersion in salt water, a fairly accurate count of
time could be kept by means of the position of certain well-known
stars.
At about midnight the sky was overcast, and even this means of
calculating time was at an end. In utter silence the sentries
maintained a vigilant look-out, while their comrades either dozed
fitfully or lay awake, shivering with cold, and on thorns of
expectancy for the night attack.
Suddenly the tense stillness of the night was broken by a sharp
report, followed by the appearance of a vivid light two hundred feet
or more in the air. The Very pistol had been discharged.
Instantly the defenders sprang to their feet. Those having rifles
manned the loopholes, opened the "cut-offs" of the magazines, and
prepared to pour a withering fire into the expected mass of Senussi.
But nothing in the nature of a wild chorus of war-cries pierced the
darkness. In the distance could be heard sounds of commotion amongst
the Arabs, who had encamped at about two or three miles from the
scene of the previous encounter. In front of the zariba all was
quiet.
"Did you see anything, Wilson?" asked Osborne of one of the sentries.
"Nothing, sir," was the reply. "And when that rocket went off it was
as clear as day, in fact my eyes are still dazzled by the light."
"Perhaps it was a sniper or a scout," suggested Dacres, who at the
first alarm had hurried to his post.
"If so, I fancy he's made himself scarce," added Osborne.
"By the by, Osborne," remarked Major Fane, "did you set that cord up
fairly tight when you fixed it to the trigger?"
"As taut as I dared," replied the Lieutenant. "It wanted only a
four-pound pull to set off the cartridge."
"Then I fancy I can explain," continued the Major. "You didn't make
any allowance for the contraction of the cord with the dew."
Osborne bit his lip. He was too straightforward to offer excuses. He
knew perfectly well the effect of damp upon rope, and at this
critical time he had omitted to make practical use of his knowledge.
The false alarm had turned out every man when they badly needed sleep
and rest.
The Very's pistol was reloaded and the trigger-line slacked off. Once
more the men not on sentry sought to gain some hours of slumber in
their uncomfortable surroundings.
The rest of the night passed without further incident, the enemy
making no further attempt to molest the camp. With the dawn the
defenders were roused. A small quantity of water, half a biscuit, and
a morsel of salt beef were served out, and on this scanty ration each
man had to exist for the next six hours.
"Where's that Turkish fellow?" enquired Osborne. "He hasn't put in an
appearance for his food."
No one had seen him, for owing to his religious scruples the Ottoman
aviator had constructed his shelter at a little distance to the rear
of the trench.
"I seed 'im makin' for his caboodle just after that there set-to last
night, sir," volunteered one of the seamen. "Shall I rout 'im out?"
"No, I'll go," said Dacres. "I can speak his lingo." And crossing the
intervening stretch of sand he reached the artificial hollow that the
Turk had dug out.
Afir-al-Bahr was lying on his side; his "prayer-carpet", which devout
Mohammedans carry with them in all circumstances, was spread at his
feet. To all appearance the Turk was sleeping peacefully--but it was
the sleep of death. During the attack on the zariba he had received a
mortal wound; yet, with a remarkable reticence, he had crawled away
to die in solitude.
They buried him hastily in the hollow he had constructed. No volleys
were fired over his grave--cartridges were too precious for that; no
"Last Post" rent the air, since no bugle was available. Yet the
homage of the _Portchester Castle's_ ship's company to a brave and
gallant enemy--a man who had done his level best to blow the ship to
pieces, and had afterwards fought side by side with his country's
foes--was none the less sincere.
Hardly had the last rites been accomplished when signs of renewed
activity were visible amongst the Senussi. During the night their
numbers had been augmented by other bands of desert nomads, until the
present strength more than exceeded the force that had delivered the
previous attack with such disastrous results.
Yet the Arabs appeared to be in no immediate hurry. Evidently they
guessed that the defenders were scantily supplied with food and
water. They could afford to wait until the British, faint with
hunger, and weakening under the effect of the enervating, torrid
atmosphere, would be unable to offer any strenuous resistance.
"I almost wish they'd make a move, by Jove, I do!" remarked Dacres.
"Suppose I oughtn't to say it though, since the longer they wait the
more chance we have of rescue; but it's slow work hanging on to a
mound of sand and expecting those fellows to make a rush."
"Looks as though your half-expressed wish will be gratified, old
man," replied Major Fane, as a swarm of white-robed men edged along
to the right of the defenders' position, taking considerable care to
keep good cover. "See their move? They're making for the beach. If
they get behind us, there'll be the deuce to pay!"
The tactics of the Senussi necessitated a rearrangement of the
defenders. At Captain M'Bride's order, those of the riflemen who had
been armed with rifles taken from the dead Arabs were detached from
the centre and moved to a flanking position, so as to command the
approach along the shore. Those seamen who had brought their own
rifles were still retained in front of the zariba, so as to check any
frontal attack.
Meanwhile Osborne, assisted by two volunteers, boldly left the
shelter of the trenches and began to dig up the scorched and
blistered petrol tins. These they set up in a conspicuous place a few
yards in front of the original line, coolly completing the task in
spite of an erratic fire from the Arab sharpshooters.
"What's the move?" enquired Dacres when the Lieutenant returned
safely to shelter.
"It may work; it's a little ruse," replied Osborne. "They'll see
the tins easily enough. I've put the best side of them facing
outwards. If they think that we'll be able to repeat the
curtain-of-fire business, they'll think twice before making a frontal
attack. It's quite bad enough to be taken in the rear of both flanks,
without a direct rush."
"There's the green banner again," exclaimed Fane. "That looks like
business."
"Steady, my lads," shouted the heroic skipper. "Let 'em have it."
The rattle of musketry sounded along the shore. The result surpassed
all expectation, for, to the defenders' surprise, scores of Senussi
toppled over on the sand, some writhing, although for the most part
those who fell lay still. The rush ended abruptly, the rest of the
Arabs turning and running at full speed for the shelter of the dunes.
"That's knocked the stuffing out of them," declared Captain M'Bride.
"Now, lads, there's another haul of equipment."
A dozen or more of the seamen who did not possess rifles made their
way through the zariba, and approached the fallen foe with the
intention of despoiling them of their arms. While engaged in this
task, quite fifty of the fallen Senussi sprang to their feet, and
fell upon the tricked men. The ruse was disastrous as far as the
defenders were concerned, for those remaining in the trenches dare
not fire for fear of hitting their comrades. Before a rescue-party
could approach, the over-eager despoilers, hopelessly outnumbered,
were cut down to a man, while the cunning Arabs, pursued by a fierce
fire from the vengeful defenders, succeeded in regaining the main
body with severe losses.
The handful of the _Portchester Castle's_ crew who had fallen in this
daring ruse could ill be spared. Although they had fought and died
gamely, and had accounted for more of the enemy than their own
numbers, the relative loss went against the beleaguered force. They
had gained experience at a high price.
Another grave discovery was brought home to the sorely pressed men.
Their ammunition was running short. Magazine rifle-fire is apt to
make heavy inroads upon the stock of cartridges, and, although the
men had exercised considerable restraint and had hardly thrown away a
single shot; the fact remained that the supply had dwindled down to
less than a couple of hundred.
"And the worst of it is," confided Major Fane, "we have those four
women--passengers from the _Sunderbund_--in our hands. They are as
plucky as one could wish; by Jove, they are! If the worst comes to
the worst----"
"Yes, Major," added Captain M'Bride quietly. "I understand. We must
never let them fall alive into the hands of these brutes."
Throughout the rest of the morning and well into the afternoon the
Senussi continued their wearing-down tactics, making numerous feints,
either singly or simultaneously at different points; yet no definite
attack matured. All the while a long-range fire was directed upon the
defences, and although the enemy wasted prodigious quantities of
ammunition the net result was two men severely, and four slightly
wounded.
"Now they mean business, I fancy," said Major Fane, as a tremendous
hubbub, in which the beating of drums figured largely, came from the
enemy position. "These fellows seem to fancy the hours before
sunset."
A vast semicircle of dark-featured Arabs, their strength now
exceeding three thousand, told pretty plainly that the defences were
to be rushed from all available directions. This time, save for a few
exceptions, all the attackers were on foot, although in the centre
rode another green-turbaned Amir, bearing the emerald-hued banner
that was to bring victory to the Faithful.
Even as the survivors of the _Portchester Castle_ stood ready for the
order to open fire, the air was torn by the shrill screech of a heavy
projectile, quickly followed by another and another. With a
succession of terrific crashes, twelve-pounder shells burst fairly
amidst the dense serried ranks of the Senussi. It was more than
fanatical courage could stand. They broke and fled, leaving the green
banner torn to shreds in the grasp of the lifeless Amir.
Too utterly done up even to cheer, the rescued garrison gazed
seawards. Less than two miles from shore, and pelting onwards at a
good twenty-five knots, was a British destroyer. It was rescue in the
very nick of time.