Chapter XIV Within a Yard of them lay poor Fisher’s Head
Admittedly the best warrant officer on board the Breezy was the chief boatswain, Fisher. He had been on the coast years and years ago, and knew the Arabs well, and all their tricks and manners too. He hated them with a fiery kind of hatred that nothing could have quenched.
Nothing ever did, he once told McTavish, except blood, and that blood had to be Arab blood.
“If you had seen what I have seen in the old days,” he added, “but now I’m wearin’ on, sir, and soon will get my pension, or my last shot.”
“You’ve been wounded before, then?”
“Good lord, yes! You see this slash across my brow, doctor?”
“A blind man could see that, Fisher.”
He drew up his right trouser leg and disclosed an ugly hole below the knee.
“A bullet, sir. No, it didn’t splinter. It went clean through. I have another in the right wrist. Another skirmish, sir. And I had a spear-wound right through me. I stuck to my man that day though, and pretty nigh cut him to the chin. Oh yes, I’ve knocked about a piece. Most of the swell Arabs know me and would pot me anywhere if sure of getting away with whole skins or an unstretched neck.”
In the coming affray this man had command of a boat.
Well, the Breezy stole away in the evening, and those that watched her from cocoa-nut trees saw her heading south and went to bed contented. But after darkness, the Breezy put all lights out and passed Zanzibar once again.
There was another cruiser on this coast not far off, and to her Captain Breezy sent a wireless message to follow on after and assist.
Instead of landing his forces south of the Lamoo river at Durva, and proceeding thence to the interior to attack the brother of Abdularram with his wild hordes of Arabs and Somalis, the Commander of the Breezy ought to have awaited the arrival of the other cruiser, which had been hourly expected at Zanzibar, and gone north in her company.
McTavish had even proposed this to him, but he only laughed.
“No, Doctor, no,” he said. “I won’t wait. Do or die is my motto. You don’t catch me sharing prize-money or honour and glory and hopes of promotion with any one. Not if I can help it.”
They landed at night, and a dark and starless night it was, although towards morning the moon would sail silently up from the sea. But they did not wish for her light to guide them up the tree-shaded creek, for the presence of the moon might but serve to reveal their position to the eyes of a watchful foe.
They were all armed to the teeth; even Bungle had been entrusted with a cutlass and a revolver. They rowed silently and with muffled oars towards the shore, and no one spoke a word above his breath.
Their whole force consisted of but sixty blue-jackets and ten marines. Captain Breezy, their commander, being himself in charge, with Guilford and Fisher under him.
Bungle was their guide, and right faithfully and well he did his duty. It certainly was no fault of his that the expedition, which from the very beginning was one of great peril and danger, came to so disastrous an end. Nor was it from any lack of courage and daring on the part of the brave sailors and marines and those who led them.
The boats were hidden under the trees, five men being left in charge of them. But these five men were probably the best in the ship, and they left them with their Maxim gun, which they found it would be inconvenient to take with them inland.
Then began the long silent march through the woods towards the barracoon, which was full fifteen miles from the shore.
It was a forced march, and one that only men in the very best form could have accomplished in the comparatively short space of five hours.
When within about three miles of the barracoon a halt was called, or rather whispered, and sentries being set, the men lay down to rest, after partaking of food.
They had dressed Bungle, while on board the Breezy, in a tailor-made coat and trousers, which latter he afterwards abandoned, and now, when of his own accord he proposed to go forward and reconnoitre, he divested himself even of his coat.
The moon had by this time risen, so that the men had to lie close among the long rank grass and stunted bushes, for they were now in a kind of open country. But more than once that night, before the sun rose up over the woods, Kep thought he could perceive dark figures skulking in the bush or stealing through the grass. Was their presence in the forest already discovered? This, was a question it was impossible as yet to answer. Alas! it was answered all too soon for their comfort.
What a long, long time Bungle seemed to be absent. One hour, two hours glided by, and still there was no sign of his return. Meanwhile, and just as day-dawn was beginning to reveal itself in the east, like the reflection of some far-off city, Jones, a sturdy marine, crept up towards the Captain and whispered—“Bungle is amissing, sir!”
Meanwhile the sun had risen, and with it a babel of sounds from the woods, which was very far indeed from being musical, for they were not far from the river, and birds of all kinds abounded, and inquisitive chattering apes as well.
The men now made a hurried meal, and prepared to advance.
“Bowser,” Captain Breezy said to Kep, “do you know what I begin to think?”
“Perfectly well,” Kep replied. “You think my boy Bungle has led us astray, and probably into an ambuscade. But, sir, I will stake my life on his honesty and faithfulness.”
Hardly had he finished speaking when a shout was heard from the bush ahead, and every man immediately fell into order prepared for an attack. But next minute Bungle himself, wounded, and limping along, entered the little camp.
“No timee talk, no time,” he cried excitedly, half rising from the ground on which he had thrown himself, “in two tree minute, plaps, de wild Arab man come fightee. He two tree tousand strong!”
Here was news with a vengeance!
Although the boy had lost much blood, the wound was not serious.
Kep stayed behind to attend to him, and his companions went on.
Just before they started, Fisher came running up. He pulled out his flask.
“Here, Bungle,” he cried, “have a drop of my rum.”
Whether it was the rum or not I cannot say, but in twenty minutes’ time Bungle was able to bring up the rear guard with Kep. That is, Bungle and Kep formed the rear guard; their friends were far ahead.
They had not proceeded a mile when they heard firing in front of them. The gallant fellows were at it, hammer and tongs, and the boys redoubled their speed.
But Bungle stopped short.
“No good go dat way, sah! Def lie in dat dilection, foh true.”
Thinking it was wise to be guided by the boy, Kep followed him, and they made a wide détour. If he had been obstinate the probability is that both would have been killed. They reached the barracoon at last, just in time to enter with the bluejackets.
And these were victorious; but, alas! victory had cost them dear.
For more than three hours the men had fought with clouds of Arabs and spear-armed Somali Indians. They had at last cut their way right through them; and, scaling palisade after palisade, captured the barracoon, driving the defenders into the woods at the point of the bayonet.
All throughout that long, hot day, McTavish laboured hard among his wounded men, of whom no less than twenty had been brought in, and at least fifteen lay dead in the forest. Among these last was poor Fisher. Nor had it been possible to recover his body.
The enemy had drawn off, although we knew it would be but for a time.
The doctor had so much to do that it was within an hour of sunset before he could find time to look about him. But at last he finished making the poor men as comfortable as circumstances would permit, and then went in search of the Captain.
He was busy enough, so were the men under the charge of Guilford, the gunner, and the officer of marines.
But the palisades, both the inner and the outer, had been already repaired, and the whole place put into position to stand a siege of days—so they hoped, at least.
Guilford came up to him, smiling. “Why, Doctor,” he said, “how pale you look!”
“Tired,” McTavish answered brightly.
“Have a drop of my rum.”
Next minute the flask was popped into his hand.
“We’ve got a thrashing, haven’t we?”
“Rayther,” he replied. “Out-numbered, you see. Only five-and-thirty men left in whole skins. And poor Fisher, he—he——”
He turned away to hide a tear.
“Come,” he said, fronting McTavish again. “Let us take a turn round the camp before it gets dark. Can you spare me, sir?”
“Certainly,” said the commander.
Then away they went.
They had captured 720 slaves in all. And so quickly had the bluejackets, after cutting their way through the Arab horde, scaled the palisades, and driven the barracoon-keepers out, that these had had no time to scatter the rice and waste the water, which otherwise they certainly would have done. The water was bad enough in all conscience, but it was better than none.
“Come in here,” said Guilford.
McTavish entered a compound with him, and there to his astonishment found a grass tent, furnished not only with luxury, but with some degree of elegance also. And there, too, was a supply of excellent water, with plenty of fruit and even wine, so that his wounded men would be in clover.
This tent doubtless belonged to the general himself.
Once more the sun went down, and almost immediately afterwards it was night.
Soon the Captain himself entered the tent, and all hands had dinner.
“Doctor,” said the Captain, “I have sent the boy Bungle back to report to the ship the fix we are in. If the Arabs attack us to-night, or even to-morrow, nothing I fear will save us. But if a few more bluejackets can reach us, and the Maxim gun, we can defy these Arab fiends, and give a good account of them.”
After dinner, Guilford and the surgeon went towards the spot where, under a canopy of green boughs, the latter had placed his wounded men.
They found Kep wandering about busy enough in his own way, soothing and sympathising with the patients, administering a drop of water or wine to one, and an orange or lime to another; but shedding comfort in every place where the light from the hurricane lamp he carried fell.
However small this boy’s capabilities as a surgeon or physician might be, he made a very excellent nurse.
Guilford kindly took the first watch with the wounded men, so that the doctor might have a few hours’ sleep, and Kep as well.
McTavish awoke quite refreshed about four o’clock, and took watch himself.
“I have a mind to sit with you a short time,” said Guilford, and down they both sat, after the doctor had taken a turn or two among the men. Meanwhile the moon had risen and was shedding her silvery light all over camp and barracoon, beautifying and spiritualising everything.
They had hidden the hurricane lamp behind a bush, and were talking low to each other, as they sat beneath a banana tree.
Suddenly McTavish clutched Guilford by the shoulder.
“Hush!” he whispered. “Did you not hear a sound as of advancing footsteps?”
They had both drawn their revolvers and sat waiting, fearfully, hardly daring to draw breath.
A moment after something fell with a dull thud almost at their feet.
“What was that?” said Guilford.
“A cocoa-nut, I think.”
McTavish lit a match and held it above his head.
Judge of the feeling of horror that took possession of them now.
There, within a yard of them, lay poor Fisher’s head.