The force started on the march about eight o'clock. It moved in square,
with camels, mules, baggage, ammunition in the centre. Also inside were
the surgeons and ambulance, and some troops ready to strengthen any weak
part in the course of action; there were guns, either machine-guns, (as
guns which fire bullets through individual barrels by turning a handle--
various improvements upon the mitrailleuse--are called) or Krupp guns,
at the corners, manned either by sailors or artillerymen.
The square was not a square in the sense of Euclid, because two sides of
it were longer than the other two. One of the longest faces led, the
men being in line. The other formed the rear face, and moved also in
line, turned to the right-about; but when halted and fronted it would
face to the rear. The side faces marched, the right side "fours left,"
the left side "fours right," so that when halted and fronted they too
would face outwards.
The officer in command, General Graham, had two men who knew the ground
well, Baker and Burnaby, to point out the best route to avoid obstacles
which would break the formation, and so they moved over a flat expanse
of sand, with now and then a hill overgrown with low bushes. Not far
from the line of march these sand-hills were larger and more numerous,
and the bushes thicker, and amongst and beyond these parties of the
enemy were hovering; to guard the infantry against a sudden attack from
these, a squadron of light cavalry were spread out half a mile ahead,
covering the flanks.
"I ask your pardon, sir," said a sergeant to Strachan, as they tramped
through the sand, "but do you happen to know what we are going to fight
about? Not that it matters, only it gives an interest like to the
business."
"Oh, yes, sergeant," said Tom. "We are going to relieve Tokar."
"So I thought, sir. But then, you see, Tokar, they say, has fallen."
"I believe it has," replied Tom; "but that was the original idea. And
if we are a bit late, why then we must show them how we would have
relieved it if it had not been taken. The Arabs had no right to be in
such a hurry. You remember the sham fights we used to have at
Aldershot? Neither side was to commence manoeuvring before a certain
hour, when a gun fired. Well, these Arabs have not played fair, but
stolen a march upon us before the proper time. But that is no reason
why we should go home after all this trouble and preparation without a
fight."
"Of course not, sir!"
"Well, then, they have got the wells at El Teb, and have raised
fortifications to defend them, I believe, and our job to-day is to get
them out of that. Then we go on to Tokar, and we shall see if they make
another fight there."
"Thank you, sir," said the sergeant; "I understand quite enough now."
A puff of smoke from the bushes; another; twenty. But no bullets came,
the enemy firing from too long a distance. It was like a peaceable
field day with blank cartridge burning.
Trinkitat harbour was in full view, and an energetic ship there, seeing
the Arabs' position thus indicated, tried to throw shells amongst them.
But they, too, were out of range. Only, as shells when properly
constructed burst somewhere, and these were sent over the heads of
friends, their exploding short was dangerous, and after two or three
attempts the experiment was dropped.
The main body of the cavalry followed in rear of the square, and to the
left of it, in three lines.
"Look at those birds!" said Green to Tom, coming up to him to draw his
attention. "What lots of them! They look like vultures surely, some of
them."
"And they are vultures, too. What carrion have they got there I wonder.
Faugh! One can smell it from here."
"Look at General Baker, what a stern expression he has got," said
Fitzgerald, letting his subaltern come up to him. "What a scene those
birds and this stench must recall for him!"
"Ah, to be sure!" said Tom. "This was the line of the flight of his
Egyptian army a month ago, when they let the Arabs massacre them without
even attempting to resist. Well, we won't do that if we can help it,
will we, Green? We will strike a blow, even if we cut off our noses as
well as our ears."
"There, there, don't chaff him, Strachan; you are too bad. And look to
your half-company. Close up, there!"
The enemy kept up their innocuous out-of-distance popping, principally
at the advance cavalry. The square was halted two or three times for a
minute's rest, which the men dragging the guns must have particularly
wanted, considering the loose nature of the soil. Then on again, after
between two and three hours' march.
Tom Strachan could see huts, and what looked like a fort with guns;
earthworks also in another part, with flags stuck upon them. Also, of
all earthly things in such a spot, an old boiler, such as you may see in
some Thames-side yard, where old vessels are broken up and worn-out
machinery accumulates.
Here the cavalry skirmishers, having done their work, retired to their
main body. Another halt, almost within rifle-shot of the position, and
the men flung themselves carelessly down on the sand. Major Elmfoot was
examining the defences through his field-glass.
"That thing looks like an old boiler, major," said Fitzgerald.
"And it _is_ an old boiler," replied the other. "I was hearing about it
the other day; there was a sugar-mill here once; that ruined building
was part of it."
"Ten-shun!"
The men sprang to their feet all together. The enemy were close, and
there would be serious work in a minute. A flash and a puff of smoke
from the earthworks, a singing in the air, another flash and report
close by, and the fragments of a shell were flying about their ears.
Two more bursting right over, and a man here and there dropped.
Then the rifle-fire opened in earnest, and those who had never yet heard
it learned what the sound of a bullet was like. More men were hit,
collapsed, and were picked up by the ambulance.
Still the square pressed steadily on, the men stepping jauntily as if
marching past. Green said to himself with joy--
"I am under fire, really under fire! And I am not half so frightened as
I thought I should be."
"Mayn't I give them one back, sir?" a man asked him.
"Not yet; presently," he replied.
He had hardly spoken before the words, "Halt! Lie down!" were passed,
and return fire was opened, both from guns and rifles, overpowering and
almost silencing that of the enemy.
"Advance!" Up the men jumped again, and pressed forward towards the
works.
The ground was broken by lumps of rock, bushes, and holes, which made
temporary breaks in the ranks as the men had to give way to pass on
either side of them, and then run up into their places again. Behind
every rock and bush, crouched in every pit or hollow, were Arabs, who
seized the opportunity to dash amongst the men, getting into the very
ranks, and striking with their spears and sharp swords right and left,
and on equal terms.
For the rifle, considered as a firearm, was of no use at such very close
quarters; the bayonet at the end of it, or the butt, was all that could
be used. The bayonet exercise is often spoken of as a bit of gymnastics
rather than of practical value; but smartness in the delivery of a
thrust was just everything now. In civilised warfare it may be that
bayonets are seldom crossed, but when you have to deal with a barbarian
foe, who places his trust in cold steel, the case is different. For the
first thrust perhaps the bayonet has the advantage, for the weight of
the rifle behind it sends it very quick and true, and difficult to
parry. But the point once turned or avoided, the spear gets the pull,
as, by drawing back the hand which holds it, the point can be withdrawn
to the shoulder, and launched, without a chance of parrying, at any
unguarded spot.
True, that the English soldier can also shorten arms, but it takes both
hands to do that, and in the meantime the whole body is exposed; while
the Arab shortens his spear with the right-hand alone, and the left arm,
with a round shield of hippopotamus hide upon it, can be used to put
aside the bayonet thrust. Unless wounded to death, they fight on when
they have fallen, clutching at their enemies' legs, stabbing while they
can hold a weapon.
Such struggling as this caused the advance of the square to be very
slow, for those portions of the front line which had no obstacles to
enable the enemy to get amongst them had to wait while the men engaged
in these single combats despatched their foes and were ready to advance
again. Not that they wasted their time, for they had plenty of shooting
to do to clear their own immediate front.
Nor was this the only cause of delay; the rear line of the square was
also subject to rushes of the enemy, who lay in ambush till it had
passed, and then dashed upon it. To meet the attack it must halt and
face about, and the rest of the square must halt too, or a gap would be
opened through which the determined foe would rush. Then, again, the
flanks, or side faces of the square, were also attacked. These had to
turn towards the front when the square advanced, not in file, or two
deep, as they stood, because men moving like that must always straggle
out too much, but in fours. Thus, on each forward movement, the right
side of the square formed fours left, the left side of it fours right.
But in this way the men would have their sides towards the surrounding
enemy, and would be helpless. So when attacked they had to halt and
front, thus becoming a line two deep again, facing their foes. But this
required another general halt till the enemy were killed or driven back.
It is difficult to explain all this without using technical terms, but I
think you will understand how absolutely necessary it was to move
steadily, with the men forming the four sides of this square standing
shoulder to shoulder, and leaving no openings.
If the forces opposed were about equal, no such square as this, which
moves with such cumbersome difficulty, would be thought of; but when a
mere handful of men have to encounter countless hordes, it is employed
to avoid being attacked in front and rear and flanks at the same time,
and to protect the wounded, the water, and the spare ammunition. But
let the overpowering masses of the enemy once break into the centre, all
advantage is gone, and the small body is worse off than it would be
advancing in any other way, because the four sides would be attacked in
front and rear, cut off from each other, and deprived of mutual support.
The ammunition would be seized, and the wounded in the ambulances
massacred, while the soldiers would just have to fight back to back
while their strength lasted.
To prevent a partial irruption resulting in such a catastrophe, spare
troops moved inside the square to oppose a second line, ready to repel
any Arabs who broke in, and so aid their comrades to regain their
formation.
The guns were at the corners of the square. While there was a clear
space in front of them, and they were well served, nothing alive could
approach. But suppose a hillock close in front, or a pit, full of
Arabs, into which they could not fire, just under their muzzles, and
they would become weak places, where the enemy could surge in without
being met by the bristling bayonets, and so stab the soldiers on the
right and left of the angle in their backs, increasing the gap, through
which their friends might penetrate. And the enemy saw this plainly
enough, and planned dodges to aid their rushes upon these corners.
There was one good thing for the British troops that day: a nice breeze
swept the smoke away, and they could see their enemies' movements, and
so stall off many a rush with their fire before it came to close
conflict. If a thick pall of smoke had combined with the broken ground
to cover the attacks of the Arabs, the losses would most likely have
been heavier, and the battle more protracted.
Tom Strachan had acquired an accomplishment which promised to be useful
before the day was over. He and others were practising with their new
revolvers one day on the grounds near the rifle butts, where they were
quartered, when the colonel rode by, and stopped to look on.
"I tell you what you should do," he said to them, "you should practise
with the left hand. I have learned to shoot as well with my left hand
as my right, and I believe it saved my life in India during the Mutiny.
It leaves the sword-arm free to ward off a cut or thrust if there are
more than one at you, or you fail to shoot your man dead."
All tried it, but Strachan at least persevered, and it came quite
natural to him after a while to use his left hand for that purpose. Not
only that, but the determination to conquer the awkwardness he felt at
first made him practise pistol shooting much more than he would
otherwise have done, and he became a first-rate shot.
The weapon, however, lay in its leather case at present; he had enough
to do to look after his men, and to catch and repeat the word of command
amidst the din, without thinking of personal combat. He, like Green,
had got an edge put on his sword. It was Kavanagh's present, and during
the lull preceding the attack, he had thought of his old friend,
wondered where he was, and regretted that they were not side by side
that day. He and Harry Forsyth--what fun it would have been! But when
the firing once commenced, he had no thought but of what he was about.
"Fire low, men! Steady! Don't shoot wildly. Harris, cover your man,
just as if he were a target at home."
"Close up, there; never mind Roberts, the ambulance will look to him.
Good man, Gubbins! That's your sort; can't well miss 'em at ten yards.
Aim at the waist-cloth. Cease firing! Advance; _fours left_ there!
Close up."
Orders could not always be heard in the din; it was necessary to watch
the front of the square, and move on or halt as it did, unless a
particular rush at a certain point compelled those at it to take the
initiative, and then others had to conform to it.
When the square got close to the right end of the curved earthwork, the
troops nearest to it charged at it with a cheer, leaving a big gap in
the ranks they left. Had they succeeded in carrying the place with the
rush, this would not have mattered; but it could not be done. Tap a
bee-hive smartly with your stick on a mild May day, and see the
inhabitants swarm out at you, and you may form some idea of how the
Hadendowas flew over the parapet at their assailants. Every one of them
fixed his eye on an enemy, and went straight at him. Every soldier
found himself with two or three opponents, and, instead of pressing on
into the earthwork, had enough to do to hold his ground.
The cool, brave man, who made sure of getting rid of one with a steady
shot a few yards off, and then plied his bayonet till he got a moment's
pause to re-load, came off well; the flurried soldier, who was not quite
sure whether to stand or retire, who missed or only wounded his man, and
then stood strictly on the defensive, was most likely overpowered and
speared.
The greater the daring the greater was the safety, and _vice versa_.
But brave or timid, the men who had rushed out of the ranks to attack
were borne back by the sheer weight of numbers. The Soudanese, however,
never got through the gap that was left. The Marines inside the square
promptly presented themselves as a second barrier, till the attackers,
retiring in good order, fell back into their places again.
But there was some hard fighting at the point for a minute or two. Good
old-fashioned cut and thrust, hammer and tongs, like cutting out a ship.
Tom Strachan found himself, he did not know how, with the hilt of his
sword right up against a Soudanese breast-bone, the weapon having passed
right through the man's body. But there was no expression of pain in
the dying face so close to his own, only hate and defiance. He was
killed, not conquered.
Before he could disencumber himself from the body another Hadendowa
rushed at him with uplifted spear. Tom levelled his pistol at him, and
pressed the trigger; but the weapon did not explode. He had already
fired all the barrels.
Another second and the spear-head would have been buried in his throat,
but suddenly the Arab's arm dropped, nearly severed by a cut from Green,
which caught him between wrist and elbow. The wounded man caught his
spear with the left hand, and strove to stab, but before he had time he
got the point in his throat, and that stopped him.
At this time Private Gubbins had a narrow escape. He fired at an Arab,
about twenty yards off, and hit him hard, but he came on at him all the
same, trying to spear him. Gubbins thrust at him with his bayonet, but
perhaps rather timidly; anyhow he missed his body, though he wounded him
again in the shoulder, and with that, and parrying, knocked the spear
out of his hand. Whereupon the Soudanese caught hold of the bayonet and
tried to unfix it. He could not manage that, and a tug of war
commenced, in which Gubbins, being the weaker and less active, was
pulled bodily out of the ranks, and would have been made mincemeat of
had not some one shot the Arab through the head, while his rear rank man
pulled him back. He owned afterwards that he was fairly scared.
"Thought that 'ere cannibal couldn't die!" he said, "Fust I shot him,
and then I bayoneted him, and he only snarled like a wild cat. Fancy a
chap pulling like that with one hole in his stomach and another in his
shoulder! 'Taint reasonable."
They fought like that, many of them.
When the momentary confusion was over, and the square again compact,
Strachan found an opportunity of slipping fresh cartridges into his
revolver; the work in prospect did not look like being suited to an
empty pistol. He had hardly done it before they were under the parapet
of the earthwork.
Here there was a pause; the Arabs, not dashing out, the British, after
their late experience, apparently not quite knowing whether they ought
to break the square formation by dashing in. Not to mention that the
Arabs were ticklish gentlemen to tumble over a bank into the middle of!
During this pause a stalwart, almost gigantic figure was seen walking up
the slope with a double-barrelled fowling-piece in his hand. Coming to
the parapet he brought the gun to his shoulder, fired right and left,
and calmly opening the breech, replaced the two empty cartridges with
two fresh ones, just as if he were standing during a battue, shooting
pheasants and not Soudanese.
"Look at Burnaby!" cried some one, and hundreds were looking at him,
expecting that at last he must fall, this dauntless traveller, keen
observer, and born soldier, who courted peril as other men court safety;
who spurned luxury and loved hardship; who seemed to treat the king of
terrors as a playfellow.
Again he gave the enemy in the earthwork, and within a few yards of him,
both barrels, and retreated a few steps down to re-load.
The Soudanese followed to the top of the parapet, but the moment one of
them showed his head above it he was shot by the soldiers close below.
Directly he had got fresh cartridges in, Colonel Burnaby stepped back to
his old place, and added another brace to his bag. But this combat
between one man and a host would never take the fort, and the foremost
line did not stand long at gaze, but ran up and clambered over the
artificial bank, which was about four feet high, pouring a volley into
the defenders as they did so. And now single combats again commenced,
and the interior of the earthwork resembled an ancient arena.
The theoretical duty of an officer in action was suspended, for he had
to fight physically and practically like the men, the only difference
lying in the arms he wielded.
His sword was no longer a baton of office, but a weapon to cut and
thrust with, and the better its temper and the keener its edge, the
greater friend was it to him that day. Not always did it prove true.
Captain Wilson, RN, cut down an Arab who was about to kill a soldier,
and his blade shivered to the hilt, leaving him without a weapon to ward
off a cut which wounded him, though happily not severely, in the head.
Captain Littledale, of the York and Lancaster Regiment, also bent his
sword over one of the Soudanese in the fort, and would have lost his
life had not two of his company come to his rescue. Some of the men's
weapons proved equally rotten.
"Look here, sergeant," said a fine broad-shouldered young fellow, whose
face was like a sweep's with powder and dust, and whose clothes were
bespattered with what Tennyson delicately calls "drops of onset," as he
showed his bayonet twisted like a corkscrew, with the point bent over
into a hook.
"Why, what have you been using it for, Sullivan?" asked the sergeant,
taking it into his hand.
"Only prodding Johnnies, and not above three of them. It wouldn't go
into the last, and I had to polish him off with the butt end. Might
have smashed the stock, for their heads is uncommon hard."
"It's a deal too bad," said the sergeant. "I'll show it to the captain,
and he will report it. Take Brown's rifle and bayonet, he will never
want it again, poor fellow."
And indeed poor Brown was lying at the foot of the parapet with a spear
completely through his body, his first and last battle ended. The
spears and swords of the savages did not break or bend, or lose their
edge over the first bone they touched, like the weapons of their
civilised opponents.
Fitzgerald came up, and the sergeant showed him the twisted bayonet. He
was not easily put out, but the sight was too much even for his placid
temper.
"Keep it, sergeant, keep it. We will see if we cannot get it stuck up
in Saint James's Park with the trophies of captured guns, that the
British public may see the weapons soldiers are sent out to fight with.
The man who is responsible for this, and the fellow who forged it, ought
to be shot."
"_Forged_ is a good word," said Major Elmfoot. "To pass off stuff like
that for good steel is rank forgery, and a worse crime than making bad
money, for here men's lives are sacrificed by it."
"I wish we had some of 'em here!" murmured one of the men.
"Aye, and the triangles rigged up," said another, "I should like to lay
on the first dozen myself."
And so say all of us.
This conversation took place after the earthwork was cleared of the
enemy--at least of the living enemy, for the whole interior was crowded
with their dead--and while the sailors and artillerymen were turning the
two Krupp guns found in it upon the retiring foe and the ruins of the
old sugar-mill to which the Soudanese still clung. And the troops had a
little rest while the leaders determined the direction of the next
attack. And the water-bottles you may be sure were mostly drained, for
the men's throats were like lime-kilns.
An officer standing on the highest part of the parapet beckoned to
Strachan, who doubled up and joined the group assembled there.
"Look," said the friend who had called him, pointing to the right, "the
cavalry are going to have their turn." Sure enough, there were the
three lines of cavalry, advancing at a walk towards the dense hordes of
Soudanese who covered the plain, some retiring slowly and reluctantly,
but the majority still holding their ground.
As they drew nearer the Hussars broke into a trot, and then, when quite
close, they were loosed, and swept down on the foe at full gallop, a
simoon of glittering steel. Surely the grandest sight the modern world
can afford; the last remnant of chivalry. For ever since the invention
of fire-arms the infantry officer's place in battle has necessarily been
in rear of his men; but the cavalry officer still rides in front, yards
in front. He believes that his men are behind him, but he sees them
not. Alone he plunges into the enemy's ranks, and the first shock of
the encounter is his. He is a knight without his grandsire's defensive
armour, and exposed to rifle bullets and bursting shells, which the old
paladin knew not.
"Oh, to be with them!" cried Tom in his excitement, uttering what was in
the hearts of all the group, as with eager eyes, parted lips, and breath
coming short, they saw the line swallowed up in the sea of Arabs. A
minute's confusion, with nothing distinguishable but the flash of
weapons, and they re-appeared _beyond_ the masses through whom they cut
their way, prostrate figures marking their track, and were now serrying
their ranks, disordered in the fierce passage.
But the spectators could watch no more, for the shells failed to
dislodge the Arabs from the ruined mill, and it was impossible to
advance and leave any such indomitable fanatics, who cared not for
numbers and despised death, so long as they could wreak their wrath upon
an infidel, in their rear; and the immediate business was to turn them
out of that lair.
There were about a couple of hundred sheltered by the ruin and the old
boiler; and for some distance round about the ground was regularly
honey-combed with rifle-pits, each of which contained an Arab, crouching
down, spear in hand, only desiring to kill an enemy and die.
It was said before that they swarmed out of the fort earlier in the day
like bees when their hive is tapped. Like bees, too, when angered, they
only sought to sting, though they knew that the act of stinging was
their own destruction. As a soldier came to the edge of an apparently
empty hole in the ground, a man would spring out upon him and transfix
him before he had time to offer resistance. Not that this succeeded
often.
The men soon learned to approach these rifle-pits with their muzzles
lowered, finger on trigger, the point of the bayonet over the opening
before they came up to it. Then, if the Arab made his spring, he was
transfixed; if he kept crouching, waiting for the other to pass, he was
shot. A large number of the holes became the graves they looked like
before the boiler was reached.
Here the massacre was horrible, for at that point the state of things
was reversed, and the Soudanese were few in number, while the English
were the many. And it was a revolting thing to have to shoot down and
stab this handful of heroes.
But it could not be helped; they would not fly, and they would not
surrender; and to endeavour to spare one of them was to insure your own
death or that of a friend. It was even necessary to slay the slain, for
they would sham and lie still, to spring up when the English had passed
and stab one in the back; then stand with extended arms to be shot, with
a smile of triumph and joy, secure of Paradise since he had sent a
double-dyed infidel, a disbeliever, both in Mahomet and the Mahdi, to
his doom.
The old sugar-mill and the ground about it being at length cleared, the
victorious square advanced upon the wells. The whole body of Arabs were
now in retreat, dismayed at last by the terrible slaughter amongst their
best and bravest; for the reckless heroism which is described, though
there were so many hundreds of examples of it, as to entitle it to be
fairly considered as characteristic of the race, could not, of course,
be universal, or they would be absolutely invincible, except by
extermination.
They were brave, every man and boy of them, but the vast majority were
not mad fanatics; and, indeed, a certain number of the tribes engaged
did not believe in the Mahdi at all, but joined him partly because he
was the strongest, and partly because they hated the Turks--and to them
Turks and Egyptians were all one--and their oppressive corrupt
government, and the Mahdi had thrown it off.
But they were not prepared to commit actual suicide, and did not want to
go to Mahomet's Paradise just yet. So, after a certain number were
killed without gaining any advantage, they grew disheartened, and
retired. And then the machine-guns sent their continuous streams of
bullets tearing through the dense masses, and volleys from the Martini-
Henrys ran the death list up still higher, and the retreat became
flight.
They marched steadily on. At the wells the Arab sheiks strove hard to
rally their warriors, charging alone, and, in some instances,
weaponless, to shame their men into following them. But it was no use.
"Tommy Atkins" was not flurried or excited now, success had made him
firm and confident, and there was no wild firing. Every shot was aimed
as steadily as if the charging Arab were an inanimate target and whoever
came within that zone of fire was swept into eternity.
This was an expiring effort, and when two companies of the Gordon
Highlanders had carried the last earthwork, with three guns and a
machine-gun in it, the enemy made no further resistance, but left their
camp, the huts containing the spoils of Baker Pasha's army--cut to
pieces by them a month ago--and the wells in the conquerors' possession.
A well is a grand name for a hole in the mud, but the water was fresh
and plentiful, and there were ten of them. It is difficult to keep the
bands of discipline very tight when men are flushed with victory, wild
with thirst, and water is before them. So, perhaps, there was a little
crowding which defeated its own object, causing needless delay in
obtaining the coveted water for all. But order was soon restored, and
every one served.
"Shall we go on to Tokar to-night, do you think?" Tom Strachan asked
his captain.
"I hope not," replied Fitzgerald; "I want something to eat, don't you?
Glory is all very well, but one cannot dine off it. Besides, it is
absurd to cram too much of it into one day. If four hours' fighting,
part of which was as severe as Association football playing, is not
enough for one day, I should like to know what General Graham would
have."
The general was not unreasonable, or he thought it better to hold the
wells. At any rate, the troops remained in the position lately held by
the enemy, strengthening it in parts, after the men had had a rest, and
bivouacking there for the night. Provisions came up from Fort Baker,
and the officers of the First Blankshire had a good mess--tinned beef,
chicken and ham, sardines, and other delicacies, with biscuit and tea,
with just a taste of rum apiece to top up with.
A really useful invention is that of preserving fresh meat in tins. The
man who found that out, and he who discovered chloroform, ought to go up
to the head of the Inventors' Class, in my humble opinion. I hope they
made their fortunes. You may despise tinned food at home, when you can
get fresh-killed meat and poultry not so overcooked. But go a long
voyage, or even on a yachting tour, travel in wild countries for
exploration, or to shoot big game, and then say.
And when they lit their pipes and lay round the bivouac fire, talking
over the events of the day, what a time that was! The First Blankshire
had not come off scathless as regarded men or officers. There was a
captain lying yonder with his cloak over his face who would never hear
the cheery bugle call again; a lieutenant was in the ambulance tent with
a bullet in his leg, forcing himself to bear the pain without moaning.
And of those present, several bore gashes which would have been thought
nasty at home, though after being dressed by the surgeon they were
accounted scratches of no signification, beyond a certain smarting and
throbbing. Green had a bandage under his chin, and going up on each
side till his helmet covered it.
"No," he said, when asked if it was binding his self-inflicted cut of
the morning; "it's the other ear. Curiously enough, a bit of a shell or
a bullet, or something, has taken the lobe off; and as it would not stop
bleeding, and the flies were troublesome when I took off my helmet,
which hurt, I asked a doctor to look at it, and he put this thing on to
keep the lint in its place."
"You will never be able to wear earrings, if they come into fashion for
men, my poor Green," said Strachan. "But what is the row with your
hand, Edwards? I did not see it was bound up in a handkerchief before."
"Ah, it's nothing; only a bite."
"A bite!"
"Yes. There was a poor little Arab chap, such a game little boy, with a
small spear made for him, fighting like a bantam till a bullet broke his
leg and knocked him over. He lay in the first earthwork, and I tried to
give him a drink, but the little rat darted up at me and bit my hand."
"Have you had it cauterised? I do believe these savages are mad," said
the major. "And what became of the varmint?"
"I don't know; we had to move on just then."
"That is the worst part of these Arabs, letting their children go into
the ranks so soon. I hate to see babies made into little men and women.
If they must fight, let them punch one another's heads with their
fists."
"I suppose, major, that as these Arabs are always fighting with one
another, if there is no one else, it becomes a necessary branch of
education."
"Well, at any rate," said Jones, who was learned in dogs--their training
and management--and who, indeed, was known as Doggy Jones, "they need
not `enter' them to the British soldier. There are plenty of Egyptians
for them to worry till they have come to their full growth."
"That is a curious thing about General Baker," said the colonel to Major
Elmfoot.
"Yes, indeed, it is."
"Was he hit, sir?" asked Dudley. "I heard something of it."
"Yes, by a splinter of a shell in the face, just as we came under fire."
"But I saw him after that."
"Oh, yes; he got the wound dressed, and remounted, knowing how useful he
could be, knowing the ground. But it is a nasty wound for all that,
MacBean says. The strange thing is that he should have passed unscathed
through the hordes a month ago, when his troops fled and left him
unprotected, and the chances against him looked a hundred to one, and
get hit to-day; the odds were a hundred to one the other way."
"The most curious case of that sort was Sir Charles Napier," said the
major. "He was one of the most unlucky men that ever lived in the way
of getting hit. In every great battle in which he took part during the
Peninsular War he was severely wounded. But at Meeanee and Dubba, where
he was in command, and almost everything depended upon him, and where,
too, he exposed himself in a manner which made the Sindhees think he had
a charmed life, he did not get a scratch."
"I wonder whether those Indian fellows fought as hard as these Arabs?"
observed Green.
"Not much difference, I should say," said the major. "They flung
themselves on the bayonets, and, if not mortally wounded, seized the
muzzles and pressed them to their bodies with the left hand, to get one
cut at their enemy and die. I don't quite see how _that_ could be
beaten in the way of game fighting, though these fellows equal it. I
saw one do much the same thing to-day."
"And did Sir Charles Napier fight them in square, sir?" asked Green, who
was of an inquiring mind on professional subjects.
"No, he met them in line, and his men had no breech-loaders in those
days; not even percussion caps; only the old brown bess with a flint and
steel lock, and a good bayonet on the end of her."
"But perhaps the odds were not so great."
"Quite, by all accounts. It is true that the Indians fought with swords
and shields, and, after firing their matchlocks, charged home with those
weapons. A swordsman requires space for the swing of his arm, so,
however more numerous they may be, they must fight in looser order than
soldiers armed with the bayonet, and therefore, at the actual point of
meeting, each individual swordsman finds at least two antagonists
opposed to him in the front rank alone. Now these Arabs, fighting
principally with spears, can very often come in a much denser mass. I
only give that idea for what it is worth. I think it may make a good
deal of difference. The nature of the ground, also, would alter the
condition of the contest. But, at any rate, I do not quite see how we
should be safe against getting taken in the rear in any other than the
square formation."