Chapter XVIII Furious Fighting on Sea and Land
The bombardment began in earnest about midday.
The midget fleet remained at a respectable distance, keeping up a plunging fire. Abdularram meant to keep his own ships afloat though he cared nothing about the mighty leviathan that had been flagship to the feeble-kneed young Sultan of Zanzibar. Indeed, she was advanced later on in the day very close indeed to the city.
She was prettily manoeuvred too, and poured broadside after broadside into the principal part of the town, which now lay completely at its mercy.
The British Consul had remained and also the American, and about four in the afternoon they succeeded in getting audience of the Sultan himself. They had been unable to see him sooner. He had a headache, and was lying down, his prime minister told them.
The Sultan received him in what we may call his reception room, for want of a better name.
He remained seated and looked ghastly pale and old. Indeed, though little more than twenty, he seemed quite an aged man, with the exception of his black and flowing locks.
The British Consul stopped to bow at the audience chamber door.
So quickly had he stopped that the tall raw-boned American Consul, who appeared always to be in a hurry, and who was coming up behind, ran foul of him with such force that both were precipitated on the carpet.
The carpet was exceedingly rich and soft, yet, to say the least of it, this was rather an undignified way of entering into the presence of so great a Sultan.
“Come, I say,” cried Munro the American, as he gathered himself up, fold after fold, from off the floor, “why the old Harry did you stop and protrude your stern like that? I believe I’ve split my blessed breeches.”
Before Mr. Johnson could gather himself up, for he was somewhat John Bull-ish fore and aft, Munro had stepped over him, and advanced to the regal chair.
“Shake,” he said, holding out a long, bony, twelve-inch hand.
The Sultan moved not, nor answered. Was he not a king?
“Shake!” shouted the Consul, in a voice that made the jewelled ornaments round the room ring and tinkle. “How long have you been deaf?”
The Sultan now condescended to shake hands with both Consuls.
Munro wheeled quickly round to a liveried or uniformed attendant.
“I say,” he cried, “fetch us two brandies and a split, I see this is going to be dry work.”
The gentleman whom he addressed was really one of the Sultan’s ministers and advisers.
He smiled as he looked comically at Munro. “Would ye no hae a drap o’ the auld kirk,” he said. “It’s prime stuff and a’ the wey fae Glendronach.”
“Ho, ho, ho,” laughed Munro. “You’re Scotch are you?”
“Ay, man, and a Banffshire laddie for bye. But, dod, man, I have ma ain adees (troubles) wi’ that fushionless sinner, yonder.”
A shell at this moment burst in the air outside, and the concussion shivered the glass in the window.
“Losh!” said the Scot, “that’s gey near and vera emphatic.”
The Sultan leapt up and would have bolted had not Sandie caught him by the skirts and thrust him back into his chair of state again.
“Off you go, my friend, and order the drinks; I’m going to talk big to this little Arab.”
There was no respect for “nigger Sultans” in Munro’s mind.
“I say, young fellow,” he cried, “this is a pretty kettle of fish, ain’t it? You’re in a jolly tight corner you know.”
“Oh! Can you save me?” whimpered the Sultan. “That pirate king will slay us all.”
“Not he. He will pay some degree of respect for the Stars and Stripes and the Yewnion Jack, you may bet your bottom dollar on that. No, young fellow, it is you they are after, and they’re going to catch you alive too. Your fleet is all down below among the jelly-fish except your flag-ship. They are knocking everything about but sparing your palace.”
“Where shall I hide? whither shall I fly? I must hie me to my harem.
“Nary a hie my dear boy; if that pirate king, as you call him, comes on shore, one of the first places he will visit will be your harem. He will soon have you out of there.”
“But where—where—can I go?”
“Well, to tell you the truth the coal cellar would be the best place for a potentate like you. Ah, here come the drinks. I suppose your Highness won’t join us? No?”
“Now then,” he continued, “let us finish this talkee-talkee. I’m not giving John Bull here a show, but he can put in his oar when he pleases.”
“I’ll leave the talking to you, sir,” said Johnson.
“And, young fellow, have you called out your troops?”
“They are assembling. They are now in the bush,” said the Sultan.
“Well, I’d keep them there for a time. How many maxims?”
“Only a few.”
“Get them under weigh. Then I think we may be able to repel these fellows if they attempt to land. Write us a note now, introducing us to your general, and John Bull and I will take it.”
“Meanwhile where shall I hide my august person?”
“There is a rare lot of the august about your high-and-mightiness I must say, but ’pon honour, old chap, you’ll feel safer and more at home in the coal cellar. I’m not joking, really.”
Then both consuls bowed, and made for the door.
Mr. Johnson lingered a moment to smile and say, “Keep up your heart, Sultan; it is sure to come right in the end.”
“Allah be praised for those words of comfort!” whimpered the Sultan, “I shall do what is best in His sight.”
At this moment the bombardment seemed to be at its fiercest and the inhabitants of the doomed city were terror-stricken. Never before had anyone here, Arab, Parsee, Hindu, or negro slave, heard the sound of a gun fired in anger, nor the sound of a bursting shell. For the most part they lay low in their houses, fearing to go into the open or trust themselves in the bush, so that the usually crowded streets were now almost deserted.
Johnson and Munro got horses from the Sultan’s stables and went tearing out to the sylvan suburbs.
They found here about 5,000 Arab soldiers. Only the ghost of an army, for of late years it had been much neglected, and many of the men were now unarmed while others had merely the long, old-fashioned Arab guns. But they had all spears and swords.
Darkness fell before the two consuls were able to evoke something like order and arrangement in this force. Only their presence had been a comfort to the officers, while the men were in good spirits and evidently burning for a fight.
Would the enemy land, and if so where and when? A complete row of sentinels were spread within hail of each other as far round the beach as they could be extended, and the Sultan’s troops were held in readiness to march, upon any given spot.
But the night passed quietly away. Abdularram saw the futility now of wasting his ammunition in the darkness.
The name of the gunner who fired the shot in a moment of forgetfulness at the palace itself, was taken, and for the present he went unpunished, as the Admiral could not spare him, but he was to fight now under the not very comforting assurance that the moment the city capitulated or was carried by assault he would be hanged or thrown into the sea, which after the fearful tragedy of the day before was now alive with monstrous sharks. The hundreds of poor fellows who had become their prey had only whetted their appetites as a few oysters before dinner would that of a gourmand.
Many of the houses far beyond the beach had been knocked down by shells, and set fire to over the heads of the buried inmates, alive or dead. The glare from these lit up the sky, but as yet there was no general conflagration.
Another night wore on, and at sunrise the bombardment was recommenced and kept up intermittently all day long. The shooting of the Zanzibar gunners was very bad indeed. But the forts themselves, which had only been built to replace older walls about a year ago, were of great strength, and faced with metal, so that it was evident they would take a much longer time to silence than Abdularram had calculated on. As some of these commanded the entrance of the palace, silenced they would have to be before Lamoo’s great admiral could capture the Sultan.
Day after day the desultory fire was kept up, but on the sixth it became fierce and fearful, and it was evident to everyone that Abdularram was about to attempt a coup de main.
That night shells rained and burst over the old town itself, and soon it was on fire from end to end, and the flame-stricken inhabitants, hundreds of whom had been slain, were fleeing to the bush for their lives.
From the sea the conflagration was an impressive and awful spectacle.
It must be seen from the mainland even from B—— itself and Abdularram had two of his best vessels to intercept any vessel who might send assistance. These did patrol duty and warned off all ships of all sorts.
Meanwhile in the darkness, and in a distant part of the island, Abdularram had landed 2,000 of his fighting braves. This from the flag-ship and with very great caution, his object being to make a forced, but silent march on the city, taking it in flank or rear.
The sentinels, there were six of these to one mile of beach, were keeping their lonely vigil, honestly enough, but they neither saw nor heard a black and armed boat glide in and land about a dozen warriors. The oars had been muffled, and the men were half naked and black from head to foot. Armed with daggers only.
They crept silently through the bush in pairs, and approached as stealthily as tigers till within a yard or two of their victims, and these were knifed before they could utter a cry or give an alarm.
The beach thus cleared offered an easy landing to the troops, and long before daylight they had reached the camp of the Sultan’s army, and attacked it with such fearful determination that in a few minutes what remained of it were scattered panic-stricken into the woodlands, or hurled back towards the flaming city.
Few who witnessed even a tithe of the horrors of that dread night will be likely to forget it till their dying day.
Those victorious tigers of the sea cared neither for drink nor food, it was blood, blood, blood, they thirsted for, money that they sought, but vice and lust also held their souls enthralled, and it is well to draw a veil—it needs a big one—over the scenes that took place in almost every street that the fire had spared.
But in the darkness they must attack and carry the palace.
Little did they know what was prepared for them. For here by the gates maxim guns had been stationed manned by men, both British and American, men who knew what maxims were too, for some had been volunteers in well-beloved Britain, and others had served in American regiments.
Abdularram’s little army was foiled. It was driven back decimated by the hell-fire of these guns without having been able to cross a bridge or force a gate.
They retreated in some sort of order, however, and made their way to the beach, and here they speedily threw up trenches some distance away from the frowning forts.
They were making signals, too, for assistance. And just before daylight assistance did come. But it was not for them.
The brave Breezy had come in by stealth, attracted by the lights of the flagship some time after she had landed the fighting forces.
They understood now at once what the position of affairs was and, before Abdularram realised what was up, torpedoed the ship, which, although she but lifted her bows a little way out of the water, it was evident had received her death blow, for she began now to fill rapidly and to settle. Abdularram himself was seen on her deck, coolly giving orders for guns to be fired at the Breezy.
Before the broadside could be delivered, however, the doom of the mighty battleship was sealed. Even after she had sunk, men were seen struggling in the seething waters, and boats from the Breezy were at once sent to save them.
Many, glad of their lives, were quiet enough, but others drew their knives as soon as they got over the gunwale and attacked the sailors. They wounded several before they had their quietus.
Swimming powerfully in the glare of the searchlight and heading for the shore was a tall and powerful Arab officer. His turban had fallen off and his long black hair was floating on the water like sea-weed.
He was caught by the boat commanded by Guilford himself, and in which Kep had entered to help the rescue.
He drew his dagger, and the blow he aimed at Kep had it descended would have closed this story as far as that poor boy was concerned.
But Abdularram, for it was no other, was struck down by a blow from the fist of the stroke-oar. And that man was Jack Stormalong.
The Arab Admiral fell on his face at Kep’s feet, and to all appearance dead, for he had been put to sleep and had an ugly gash on the forehead caused by coming in contact with the side of the boat.
“Thank you, Jack, a thousand times and o’er,” said Kep with a smile; “my old friend here, who now so lowly lies, certainly didn’t mean to be sparing in his attentions to poor little me.”
“You’re kindly welcome, sir,” said Jack; “you would do as much for me any day, that I know.”
“Ay, that I would.”
It was the boats of the Breezy that were coming in and that the piratical soldiers mistook for their friends. They were at once undeceived, as soon as the quick-firers opened upon them.
They were driven into desperate confusion.
But now the Sultan’s troops, whom the American Consul had succeeded in getting together, approached and quickly attacked the pirates at the point of the bayonet. And the battle was soon over.
There was still the fleet to deal with, and for hours it looked an ugly business for the Breezy. She had to make a running fight of it all day long, but after getting two of the midget fleet well away from the others, she attacked now with her heaviest guns, and was not long in sinking both.
Meanwhile others of the fleet had made a détour, and cutting her off from the south and seaward began to close in upon her from all round.
“By George!” cried the Captain, “this is being between the devil and the deep sea with a vengeance.”
But suddenly the enemy ceased firing, and went off at full speed towards the south. And while everyone on the Breezy was wondering what this extraordinary move meant, there came a hail from one of the fighting tops.
“Two powerful battle-ships just in sight on the horizon. No, sir, I can only raise their tops.”
A middy was sent up at once and presently he hailed:
“I can see the flags, sir.”
“Well, what can you make of them?”
The middy had another long look.
“Why sir, they are Stars and Stripes.”
“That must be the Niagara and the Delaware.”
On board the Breezy there was shaking of hands all round, and laughing and talking and general jollity fore and aft.
Then up marched the doctor.
“Pardon me, sir, but I think that the crew now will be none the worse of some medical comforts.
“Certainly, by all means,” replied Captain Breezy. “Pipe to dinner, officer of the watch, and we’ll splice the main-brace, Surgeon McTavish.”
The end had not yet come however. The midget fleet must not escape.
So now, although she was somewhat damaged, the Breezy put on all speed in order to meet the Americans as quickly as possible, and hold a conference, and in about an hour’s time the two nations, Britain and America, were exchanging salutes.
When Captain Breezy of H.M.S. Breezy went on board the Niagara, he found the Captain of the Delaware there already, and Captain Breezy, wasting as few words as possible, told the whole sad story, and it was unanimously agreed that something must be done at once.
“There is no doubt,” said Breezy, “that the Lamoo fleet will get back to their own Sultan as soon as possible, and there is only one way for them to get there, they must cross the bar one by one, and,” he continued, “it is better, in my opinion, that we should sail for the mouth of that river and wait their appearance. Their sailing south was only to avoid meeting you. They will make a wide détour after they are out of sight, and come straight for the equatorial coast again.”
This was agreed to. A steam launch was sent back to Zanzibar to advise the consuls as to their movements.
They were going on a punitive expedition now—that was the message—they were to be found near to the mouth of the river, and should a torpedo boat or destroyer come in as well as the large man o’ war which had been signalled, the former were to come to the river’s mouth, the latter to lie at Zanzibar to defend it.