CHAPTER XVIII--A GOOD HAUL

The interview with Major von Rudenheim left Tom soberly reflective. There could no longer be the least doubt that he was to be attacked. The attempt to come to terms with him seemed to show that the Germans were now under no illusions as to the strength of his position, and wished to avoid operations which must involve the employment of a larger force than the objective, from a strictly military point of view, warranted. But their prestige was at stake throughout the whole region. The native tribes, always restive under their galling yoke, would run out of hand when it became generally known that the German power was being set at defiance by an Englishman with a handful of negroes, and that Germans were held in captivity. The menace of a great rising of the blacks would grow increasingly serious, and the higher authorities, having proved the uselessness of light measures, would now organise an expedition in strength.

Tom felt confident in his ability to hold his own behind his defences, provided they were not attacked by artillery; and the country between the nullah and Bismarckburg, at all times difficult, was now rendered so much more difficult by the rains that the transport of guns would be a formidable undertaking. It might prove to be impossible. In that case the attack should fail. Tom had under his command a hundred and forty-seven able-bodied men, of whom a score were trained askaris, some fifty Wahehe were fairly efficient with the rifle, another thirty could handle fire-arms well enough to do considerable execution at short range, and the remainder were expert with the spears they had made for themselves. Behind their fortifications, each man would perhaps be equal to three outside.

On the other hand, the difficulties of the defence were serious enough. Provisions were running perilously low; if the nullah were besieged, the end must come in about ten days. There was, further, the question of the wounded. Casualties were bound to occur; the medical stores brought from the plantation would be of little use in dealing with gunshot wounds: there were no surgical appliances whatever. If Tom had known beforehand what he was to learn before many days had passed, he might have met Rudenheim's offer with a counter-proposal, instead of rejecting it outright. New to warfare, he was ignorant of what fighting with modern weapons means; but he foresaw suffering, and felt some uneasiness in contemplating a possible long casualty list.

It was time to dispatch another messenger to Abercorn. Neither of his former messengers had returned; possibly neither had got through; but with the crisis imminent it was right to put the position clearly before the British authorities. He adopted the same plan as before: sent duplicate notes on successive days, announcing his expectation of attack, and stating his determination to resist as long as his provisions lasted.

Feeling it unwise to leave the nullah himself, he allowed Mirambo to lead short shooting expeditions in the neighbourhood, to replenish the larder. He devoted all his own energies to the maintenance and strengthening of his fortifications, the drilling and exercising of the men, and the allotment of duties to the non-combatants. Of these last every man, and many women, had their definite tasks--to bring food and ammunition to the fighting-posts, to remove and tend the wounded, and so on.

His plan of defence was to post twenty men on the cleft at the north end of the nullah, in case the enemy should again attempt an entrance by the "back door," and to employ all the rest in the nullah itself. Seventy men were told off to hold the first line--the barricade and the trenches on the flanks; the remainder, in support, were to man the communication trench, which led to a fold of the cliff face about a hundred and fifty yards in the rear, and gave complete cover from enemy fire.

Waiting for critical events always puts a strain upon even the stoutest-hearted. A schoolboy dreads the interval between the "call-up" and the headmaster's thrashing more than the thrashing itself. The soldier in the trenches knows more of the agony of fear when he awaits the word of command than when he is actually going "over the top." As day followed day, and no message came through the chain of scouts, Tom found constant activity the only sedative for his overstrung nerves.

Two little incidents relaxed the tension. One morning, just as he was leaving his hut, he heard a terrible shriek from the lake side. Rushing forward, he saw, near the brink, a woman waving her arms frantically, and calling to a little toddling child, who was wading in the shallow water towards a bright flower a few yards away. In an instant Tom saw the cause of the mother's agitation. Just beyond the glowing blossom, a few inches above the surface, lay what appeared to be a log of greenish wood. Tom sprang into the water, caught up the child, and darted back; and the seeming log sank with a gurgle and disappeared. Crocodiles had been rarely seen since the occupation of the nullah; apparently they had been scared away by the noise of so many people, which, however, had now lost its terrors for them. Tom gave the child back to his grateful mother, and, using one of the few phrases in the Wahehe tongue that he had picked up, bade the woman be careful.

It was in the afternoon of the next day that one of the messengers, sent out more than a week before, returned: the other was never seen again. The man was very proud of his success, and exhibited a small brass rod given him as a reward by the m'sungu in Abercorn. Tom was more interested to learn whether he had brought an answer to his message, and the negro produced from his loin-cloth a small dirty envelope. Tearing it open, Tom took out the still dirtier folded scrap of paper, which he recognised at once as a leaf from his own pocket-book. One side bore his message, now almost illegible; on the other he read the few words--

_Hold fast._ _T. Burnaby, Major._

"He's short of paper, I suppose," Tom thought; he learnt later that in the army a superior officer writes his reply to a communication from a subaltern on the back. "But he might have said a little more. Doesn't promise anything. Cold comfort, Major Burnaby. Yet it _is_ comfort after all. He wouldn't say 'hold fast' if he didn't think there was a chance. Still, I'm glad I sent a second message: hope he gets it."

Towards ten o'clock on the fifth morning after the interview with Major von Rudenheim, Tom was superintending work on the parapets of the trenches when a message came from the nearest of his scouting posts. From hill to hill had been shouted the news that a large column of white men, askaris and porters, was marching along the Neu Langenburg road from the direction of Bismarckburg.

"At last!"

Tom's exclamation had something of relief, from the strain of suspense; something of anxiety, for what was to come. It was not certain, of course, that the nullah was the enemy's objective, but he must act as if it were. Within a few minutes every man had gone to his allotted post.

The source of the message was a hill many miles to the westward of the track by which Rudenheim had come. Two hours afterwards it was reported that the column had reached that track, but had halted in a glade beside the road; the men had thrown themselves on the ground.

"They're taking a rest after their hilly march," thought Tom. "Or perhaps they intend a night attack."

But a few minutes later another message suggested a different explanation. From the further-most eastern post came word that a smaller party was marching from the direction of Neu Langenburg westward. It was formed mainly of porters, with a number of askaris and two white men. Was it not a fair inference that the junction of the road with the northward track had been appointed as rendezvous for both the columns, and that either the one was before its time or the other was late?

Tom made a rapid mental calculation, congratulating himself on the personal knowledge of the road he had obtained in the course of his round of inspection of the scouting posts. When the second column was sighted (that is, only a few minutes before he heard of it), it must have been nearly thirty miles from the rendezvous. Now, the spot where the first column had halted was not the point on the Neu Langenburg road that was nearest to the nullah. Some ten miles east of it there was a scouting post closer to the nullah by about five miles; but the way to it, though shorter, was much more arduous, and for that reason was not at all likely to be chosen by the Germans as the route to their objective. It seemed to Tom that by a rapid march with a light force he might reach this spot on the road before the eastern column, and, given favourable circumstances, prevent this column from joining the other. He had a rosy vision of snapping up the stores it was conveying, with the result that the threatened attack on the nullah would be at least delayed, while his own resources would be increased.

There were two risks to be taken into consideration: the first, that the western column might not await the arrival of the eastern before resuming its march to the nullah; the second, that the road between them would be so closely patrolled as to render intervention impossible. The scouts, however, had not reported the passing of patrols; and as to the first risk, it seemed unlikely that the officer in command would make any further movement until his force was complete. The prize was great, in Tom's eyes well worth the risk, and after a few minutes' cogitation he determined to "put his fate to the touch."

Choosing forty of his best men to accompany him, with Mwesa and two of M'setu's scouts, and leaving Mirambo in charge at the barricade, he started southward. The route he must follow led over very hilly country, covered in parts with forest, through which it might sometimes be necessary to cleave a way. For this purpose he had ordered some of his men to bring axes and bill-hooks, though he hoped that the scouts, knowing the district thoroughly, would find a practicable track, and so avoid the delays which cutting a path must involve.

It was fortunate that since the great storm the rainfall had been light; otherwise much of the ground would now have become swamp, and put him at a disadvantage compared with the enemy on the well-kept high road. Tom had always been known among his friends as a good "foot-slogger," and, hardened as he now was by constant exercise, he had no difficulty in keeping up with his lithe and limber guides. The party covered the first twelve miles in less than three hours, over a track that ran almost due south from the nullah, and was very little obstructed. Then, however, they came into broken country, with steeper ascents and descents and thicker vegetation, where the pace was necessarily slackened. Once or twice the men had to use their implements, and Tom chafed at the delay; but he let no sign of impatience escape him, and found a few cheery words of praise a potent stimulus to his willing negroes.

Presently they came to a hill-stream flowing southward. An idea struck Tom.

"Does this stream cross the high road?" he asked.

The scouts replied through Mwesa that it did.

"Then is there a bridge?"

He learnt that a bridge spanned the stream some distance east of the post for which he had been making. The stream, which was much swollen after a period of heavy rain, had cut a deep and wide channel, and sometimes rose to within an arm's-length of the bridge. Now, however, the rainfall for some days having been slight, it was likely that the water was two men's height below the trestles of which the bridge was made.

This information caused Tom to change his objective. Instead of continuing along the forest track that led directly to the scouting post, he followed the course of the stream, and in some twenty minutes came in sight of the bridge far below. Calling a halt, he sent one of the men to the scouting post on a hill-top invisible from his present position, to inquire of the man stationed there whether he had seen anything of the enemy's columns, or of patrols. The scout's report being reassuring, Tom led his party down to the road, through the brushwood, rank grass, and bushy shrubs that lined the bank of the stream.

The ground within twenty yards of the road had evidently been at some time cleared of the taller growing vegetation, no doubt to destroy cover. But the lesser plants had sprung up only the more thickly, furnishing safer cover even than the larger shrubs and trees above.

Tom's first idea had been to have the bridge hacked down. This would have effectually checked the march of the columns along the road, and the stream was here so wide and deep, and its banks so steep, that the enemy could not have crossed it until the bridge had been repaired. Second thoughts raised an objection to this obvious measure. The column would almost certainly be preceded by an advance guard, who would discover that the bridge was broken and give warning. The main body would halt, and Tom would have no chance of getting possession of the stores without a fight. Ignorant of the strength of the column, he dared not risk exposing his small force of comparatively untrained men in the open. Unless he should see a fair prospect of dealing the enemy a "knock-out blow," he would do much better to keep his men out of sight, and remain content with having prevented the two columns from joining forces and thus delayed their advance on the nullah. But this would be only partial success: something more was wanted for complete satisfaction; and an examination of the bridge suggested to Tom what seemed a better way.

Having first sent a couple of scouts in each direction along the road to guard against surprise, he set three men with axes to cut nearly through two of the piles supporting the bridge, one up, the other down stream, just on the water line. A dozen others he sent a few yards along the stream to weave two long, stout ropes from rushes and creepers. Expert at this work, the natives in the course of an hour or so had completed two serviceable ropes about thirty yards in length. Tom tested them by means of an impromptu tug-of-war; then, the axe-men having long finished their part of the job, he himself attached the ropes to the weakened piles by means of bowlines in the notches and allowed them to sag into the water. At intervals he weighted them with stones in order to keep them below the surface, and carrying the free ends up stream, hid them in the vegetation at the foot of the bank. All these operations near the bridge were carried out by men wading in the water, in order that no tracks on the ground should betray them to the enemy scouts.

Tom had only just completed his preparations when the scouts he had sent eastward came running back with news that the enemy column was in sight. There were two white officers, and an innumerable company of porters and askaris The negro's inability to estimate number was a constant worry to Tom: anything above ten might be reported as a host.

Withdrawing all his men about fifty yards up stream, and posting them under cover of the rushes, he gave them precise orders as to what they were to do when he blew his whistle. Until then no one was to whisper or make the slightest movement. Each man held his rifle with bayonet ready fixed. When he had proved that all were invisible from the road, Tom found a spot where, concealed himself, he had a clear view of the bridge.

He hoped that the period of waiting would not be long, for stillness and silence taxed the negroes more than anything else he could have demanded of them. Already there were signs of restlessness among them when, about half an hour after they had taken up their positions, he caught sight of two figures some distance away, approaching through the bush at the edge of the cleared space skirting the road. An urgent whisper reduced the Wahehe to stillness again. The two askaris came on quietly, pausing now and again to peer into the thickets beyond the clearing. Just before they reached the bridge they stepped into the road, and were joined by two more askaris who had emerged from the bush on the other side. The four men crossed the bridge together, separated at the western end, and pursued their way in couples as before.

A few minutes later four files of askaris followed. At a short interval came a connecting file, and then the main body, which consisted of two parties of askaris marching in fours, with a gang of porters between them. With each party there was a German N.C.O. Tom rapidly estimated that the askaris numbered about sixty in all.

When the first party reached the bridge, they broke step and formed two deep to cross. Tom waited until about twenty had gained the other side, then blew his whistle. The Wahehe sprang to their feet. Ten of them fired a volley at the enemy who were upon the bridge, then charged through the thin scrub upon those who had crossed and, startled by the shots and the cries, had wheeled round at the sharp order of their sergeant. Meanwhile twenty men, with Tom at their head, had dashed straight towards the road in the other direction until they had a clear view of the second party beyond the porters, then halted, fired one volley, and charged with the bayonet. At the same time, two groups of five rushed to the spot where the ends of the ropes lay hidden, seized them and hauled with a will. The nearer pile collapsed; the farther held until all ten men tugged at the same rope. Then it snapped like the other, and the whole central part of the bridge fell with a crash into the stream, carrying with it one or two of the rear files of the askaris.

Surprise is halfway to victory. Even European troops could hardly have avoided confusion, however short-lived, when suddenly beset at close quarters by an unsuspected enemy. The German sergeant who had crossed the bridge hardly had time to bring his men into line before the Wahehe, yelling the war-cry of their tribe, were among them. They were severed from the other party by the broken bridge and the crowd of panic-stricken porters, who flung down their loads and fled helter-skelter into the bush. The sergeant and one or two more stood firm and were cut down; the rest turned and bolted across the road, seeking safety in the woods.

Meanwhile the sergeant in command of the second party, being farther from the bridge, had had a few seconds longer to prepare to meet the attack. Before Tom reached him he had halted his men, formed them up hurriedly, and ordered them to fix bayonets. But the time was all too short. The men were still fumbling when the impetuous Wahehe at Tom's heels had surged from the clearing on to the road. Tom made straight for the sergeant, and thrust at him with his bayonet. The German deftly parried the stroke, but before he could himself take the offensive Tom swung his rifle over and brought the butt up swiftly against his opponent's chin. The man fell like a log. His askaris did not await the touch of cold steel. Some flung up their hands, others took to their heels, the yelling Wahehe panting behind them. Tom became alive to the danger of his own men scattering in the pursuit and losing themselves in the forest. With loud blasts of his whistle he sounded the signal for recall. Some of the men obeyed instantly, but many minutes had passed before all returned, and the weapons of most of them bore witness to the work they had been doing.

Tom lost no time in taking stock of the situation. A few of the askaris had been killed by rifle-shots, a few by bayonets. About twenty were wounded, twelve so seriously that it was clear they could not be moved. Rather more than twenty had surrendered. One of the German was killed, the other lay where he had fallen. All the rest of the column were scattered through the bush.

Examining the loads dropped by the porters, Tom found that about half consisted of food, half of small-arm ammunition, both valuable booty. He distributed the bales among the unwounded prisoners and some of his own men, and sent them off at once on the return march to the nullah. For the wounded he could do nothing. He ordered those who were slightly injured to revive the sergeant with a dash of water from the stream, and to render first aid to their helpless comrades, knowing that help would be forthcoming from the western column as soon as fugitives had reported the disaster.

By this time the last of the Wahehe had rejoined, and Tom set off on the return journey, soon overtaking the carriers. He pressed the pace as much as possible, though the risk of being pursued was slight. Late in the afternoon, tired but jubilant, his men marched into the nullah, amid exultant shouts from their fellows who manned the defences and the non-combatants who crowded about them as they conveyed their spoils to the village.

Tom discovered that only three of his men had been slightly wounded.

"Almost a bloodless victory," he said to himself. "What wonderful luck!"

But the negroes, discussing the affair far into the night, did not speak of luck. They talked of "white man's medicine," and assured one another that their particular white man had better "medicine" than any one else in the world.