CHAPTER XX--RAISING THE SIEGE

Midnight passed: the still hours stole on; and Tom was dozing when Mwesa roused him.

"Noise dis way, sah," said the boy.

Tom sprung up. From the direction of the forest came slight sounds. The enemy were on the move. He sent to the trenches above the men detailed to hold them: the rest he ordered to their posts behind the barricade. Their movements were silent.

The sounds from without were so faint that it was clear the enemy hoped for a surprise. Presently they ceased altogether, and Tom guessed that the men had assembled in their trench and only awaited the word. At each end of the barricade he had placed an askari with flares and matches.

The silence was brief. Suddenly a whistle sounded. The air was rent with a great shout as the enemy askaris leapt from the trench and surged forward towards the barricade. Instantly Tom gave a signal; two blazing flares soared over the barricade and fell on the ground beyond, lighting up a wide space around them. Peering through a gap, Tom saw the line of black men pressing on. Some carried axes, others oblong hurdles--pontoons for throwing across the moat. Only a few seconds after the signal for the attack had been given, another whistle cut the air. From the barricade and the trenches above rifles flashed, and there were gaps in the ranks of the assailants. In the pressure of a moment like this regular volleys were impossible: each man fired as fast as he could.

In spite of their losses the enemy pushed on with scarcely a check. They had not yet fired a shot. Some crossed the moat with flying leaps and began to hack at the barricade with their axes. Others rushed over on the hurdles, and thrusting their rifles into the gaps, fired at random. The defenders here, having emptied their magazines, lunged at the foremost assailants with their bayonets, while the men in the raised trenches kept up a hot fire on the supports rushing up behind. But the stream seemed never to slacken. If a man fell back from the barricade, another took his place. A big askari forced his way through a gap, and wounded two men before he was transfixed by Mirambo's bayonet. Almost before the bayonet could be withdrawn others of the enemy came through at the same spot, and Mirambo and the men about him found themselves engaged in a fierce hand-to-hand struggle. The same thing happened at many parts of the defences, and though for every man who got through two or three had been hurled back into the moat or among their comrades, it was clear that by pressure of numbers the Wahehe must soon be overwhelmed.

Tom created a temporary lull in the attack by emptying his revolver on the largest group of the askaris. The flares having now gone out, he took advantage of the darkness to sound the signal for withdrawal, and his men, obedient to their training, rushed back into the trench and reloaded. From beyond the barricade the enemy were pouring a hot fire upon the higher trenches, and Tom knew by the sounds that there were still large reserves to deal with. Coming to the conclusion that the position at the entrance of the nullah could not be held much longer, he sent the greater part of his force to take up new positions at the bend, retaining a few to fight a rearguard action. But it appeared either that the first ranks of the enemy were exhausted, or that they had had orders not to push forward into the nullah at once after the entrance had been won. Their officers, who had not yet come into view, probably suspected that the nullah might have many traps and pitfalls for their men in the darkness, and reckoned on an easy conquest in daylight. At any rate there was no immediate pursuit, and within half an hour Tom had withdrawn all his men into the trench at the bend.

A few minutes afterwards a flame burst out at the entrance, spreading across the nullah from side to side. The enemy had set fire to the shattered barricade. None of them were visible in the glare: it seemed that, content with having forced the outer defence, the main body had had returned to their trench to await the dawn, now near at hand.

When Tom numbered his men, he found that thirteen were missing, and some thirty were wounded, many of them lightly. He felt a pang at the thought that some of the thirteen were lying seriously wounded on the field, but it was impossible to search for them.

He realised that he was now in the last ditch. If the enemy once rounded the bend, the village on the high ground a quarter of a mile beyond would be exposed to their fire, and for the sake of the non-combatants it would be necessary to yield. True, given time, another trench might be dug across the nullah, and the enemy's advance delayed again there; but his men were too weary to start digging at once, and, in any case, it was unlikely that the work could be completed in the short hour before dawn. There was nothing to be done but to hold the trench as long as possible, and inflict such losses on the enemy that they would be compelled to await reinforcements before attempting a final assault. They might even be satisfied with having captured the entrance, and leave the rest to time and famine. Escape was impossible, for, knowing of the "back door," they would certainly take care to block exit that way, which could easily be done by posting a few men at the head of the narrow cleft.

What hope was there of relief from the British border? In reply to his note a Major Burnaby had bidden him "hold fast," a message that seemed to hold some slight promise of help. Would that help come in time? If the enemy were in sufficient strength, a few hours might see the defence overwhelmed and the little community at the mercy of the conquerors. How many days was it since he had received Major Burnaby's message? Three?--or four? He could not tell. He had lost count of time. So obsessed had he been with the problems of the defence that he had given scarcely a thought to what might have been passing in the village. Moses had kept the fighting men supplied with food, sending down carriers under cover of night. The men on guard at the cleft had reported that all was well, and the single sentry who kept watch on the island prison had sent word that the firing had at first caused some excitement among the prisoners. They had grouped themselves on the shore, gazing down the nullah, talking to one another--all but Reinecke, who had stood apart from the rest, and sometimes walked up and down with quick impatient footsteps, twirling his long white moustache. Tom had not seen how the sound of the shells had caused the women and children to huddle together and sit cowering and moaning in their huts. He had not heard their wails when word came that such-and-such were dead, nor their croons of pity and tenderness as they did their little best for those who were wounded. All his thoughts were centred on the one pressing problem: how to hold out, to wear down the enemy, to gain time.

When morning dawned he looked anxiously down the nullah. Its downward slope enabled him to survey its whole length to the entrance without unduly exposing himself. He saw a few figures moving about where the barricade had been, but between him and them none of the enemy was in sight. The vegetation on either side of the stream, growing to the bases of the precipitous sides, would shelter hundreds: had any of them crept up towards him under this cover during the night? He could not tell; nor dared he send out scouts to reconnoitre.

Presently he saw that the men at the entrance had been joined by two white officers. The Germans, who had kept in the background while the askaris fought at the barricade, had now come forward to inspect the position and direct the further operations. Their intentions were soon made manifest. There was a burst of smoke from the middle of the burnt barricade, and a shell exploded on the cliff-side just behind the trench. Tom at once withdrew his men to the cover of the bushes beyond the bend, leaving only a handful in the trench to fire if any of the enemy showed themselves within effective range. The bombardment thus opened did not greatly disturb him. The bend effectually protected his men from harm, and the gun was not of a calibre large enough to demolish the trench, of which only a portion was visible to the gunners. Some damage was done to the parapet on the eastern side, but the enemy's object was clearly to intimidate the defenders, for the futility of their shots, in a material sense, must have been clear to them.

It was clear, too, that they had learnt to respect the quality of the defence opposed to them. They gave no sign of an intention to advance in the open. The bombardment was vigorous and sustained, but except for the few figures moving about the gun at the entrance, not a man of them was seen. This inaction seemed ominous to Tom. He could not think that they meditated another night attack, for, unfamiliar with the ground, they would be at a disadvantage in darkness. Was it not more probable that, relying on the bombardment to distract the defenders and to drive them under cover, they were creeping through the brushwood nearer and nearer to the trench, and would by-and-by make a rush, with the hope of profiting by surprise? This was the movement that he most dreaded, because the result must depend absolutely on the numbers opposed to him.

Just after mid-day the bombardment suddenly ceased. For a few minutes there was a breathless silence in the nullah: nothing was heard but the gurgling of the stream. Then the storm broke. From the bushes on each side, within a hundred yards of the trench, burst a swarm of men at the double. Tom had already summoned his men to their posts in the trench, and the masses of the enemy had covered only a few yards when they encountered a hail of lead from the parapet. In spite of many gaps in their crowded ranks they dashed forward with ferocious yells, and pressed the charge up to the very edge of the trench. There, however, they came under fire from some of the best marksmen, whom Tom had stationed in the block-houses and also in the bushes on higher ground in the rear. They reeled under the double fire; a few who sprang over the parapet into the trench were bayoneted or clubbed; the rest turned and fled panic-stricken into the cover they had lately left with such confidence, many of them falling to the shots of the triumphant Wahehe.

In the silence that followed, Tom was startled by sounds of firing from the north. It flashed upon him that the Germans had arranged a simultaneous attack on the cleft. The guard of twenty men he had posted there, behind their barricades, ought to be able to hold their own on ground so favourable to them; but Tom at this moment felt that he must see for himself how they were faring. The repulse of the main attack gave him at least a respite: he would not be absent more than thirty or forty minutes; so leaving Mirambo in command, he hurried up the nullah.

On the way he was met by Moses himself, running to tell him that the men above had sent word that the enemy was upon them, and asking that the m'sungu would come to their assistance. Knowing the nature of the ground they were defending, Tom guessed that the support they craved was rather moral than material. He did not care to send for reinforcements to Mirambo, who might yet be hard pressed; but as he passed through the village he collected half a dozen men who had been slightly wounded in the first action, and ordered them to follow him up the ladder. Unknown to him they were joined by the armed sentry who patrolled the lake-side opposite the island. The man afterwards explained that he was tired of watching prisoners, and wished to have his share in useful work.

Tom found, as he had expected, that the men guarding the cleft had no reason to be alarmed. Posted behind the first of the barricades commanding a difficult passage along which the enemy must come in single file, they could have held the position indefinitely. It appeared that the sight of a white officer among the askaris who had emerged from the end of the ravine had struck them with dread: how could black men stand against a m'sungu? They hailed Tom's arrival with shouts of delight. Being for once unaccompanied by Mwesa, he was unable to cheer them with words; but he managed to make them understand by signs that he trusted them, stayed with them for a few minutes while they fired at the enemy, who showed no eagerness to risk the perils of advancing against a position so formidable; then, confident that all was safe in this quarter, at any rate for a time, hastened back to where the danger threatened.

Just before he came to the rock from which the lake was visible, he heard shouts of alarm and excitement from below. Surely the enemy could not already have broken through? There had been no firing. Hurrying down at some risk of a fall, he halted at the rock in amazement at an extraordinary drama that was being enacted.

Between the island and the shore a crazy raft was rocking in the water, under the paddles, rough branches of trees, wielded in desperate haste by the German prisoners. From Tom's high position the reason of their frantic exertions was only too apparent. He could see far into the clear water of the lake. About the raft it was alive with crocodiles. The hideous reptiles swam round and round, sheering off where the water was churned by the paddles, but pushing their snouts on to the edges of the raft where the paddlers stood.

The scene would have been laughable but for a possible element of tragedy. The raft was so slight, evidently so hastily put together, that it dipped now on one side, now on another, under the strokes of the paddles or the pressure of the crocodiles' snouts. Water poured over it. The men dared not shift their positions, for every moment threatened to make it capsize. Divided between anxiety to gain the shore and the urgency of beating off their horrid foes, they used their futile paddles, now for propelling the raft, now for smiting the reptiles' heads.

"The madmen!" thought Tom. "How do they suppose they can escape? But where is the sentry?"

Women and children, shouting and screaming, thronged the shore, but there was no armed man among them.

Tom watched the scene as if fascinated. The positions of the men on the raft had evidently been arranged with care to ensure its balance, which was disturbed from moment to moment by the violence of their blows. In spite of all, they were making progress towards the lake-side. Suddenly, in a moment, Fate said her last word to Curt Reinecke. Intending to strike a snout that had just slid on to the raft almost at his feet, he overreached himself, the raft tilted, and he was in the water. The shriek that rose from the unhappy man rang long in Tom's ears. At the spot where he had fallen there was a furious swirl as the crocodiles crowded together, and disappeared into the depths of the lake.

For a moment Tom was paralysed with horror. Then collecting himself, he hastened down to the lake, and summoned the women to assist him in launching the large raft on which food was taken to the prisoners. Reinecke's fate had given the others a short respite. Before the reptiles returned to the surface the Germans had transferred themselves from the one raft to the other, and pale, cowed, trembling mortals, were paddled to the shore.

Tom had no time to question them, or to inquire about the missing sentry. The sound of scattered shots drew him at his best speed towards the trench. When he reached it, he found that his men were sniping at individual askaris who were hurriedly making their way, not up, but down the nullah. Surely the enemy were not withdrawing?

"Me hear shots long way off, sah," said Mwesa, running towards his master excitedly.

Tom thrilled from top to toe.

"Are you sure?" he asked.

"Sure nuff, sah. Mirambo he say no: old ears, sah, no can hear, same as me."

Tom wondered. Could it be true? Was the long-expected relief coming at last? Could there be any other explanation of distant firing? He strained his ears for the welcome sound. He gazed towards the end of the nullah. There were certainly signs of activity there. And then came the sound that could not be mistaken. Somewhere to the south rapid rifle fire was going on.

For a few moments all other feelings were submerged in overpowering thankfulness. Then the possibilities of the situation struck upon his mind. It was clear that some of the enemy had been withdrawn to meet this attack in their rear. Had they all gone? Had the conquest of the nullah been wholly abandoned? That must be put to the test.

He sent Mirambo out with a dozen sharpshooters to feel his way down the nullah. Stealing along under cover of the bushes, the men had gone nearly two hundred yards before the sound of shots reached the trench. A scout hurried back to report that the whole of the enemy force was retreating. Tom instantly collected all his remaining fighting men, and led them down after Mirambo's party.

Presently another scout came with the news that the enemy had not all left the nullah, but had manned the old trench just within the barricade. Tom felt his way forward cautiously through the bush, and overtook Mirambo where he had halted about a hundred yards from the trench. Southward the crackle of rifle-fire was growing louder and more distinct. It would be a pity to lose an opportunity of routing the troops who still remained in the nullah, dispirited as they must be by the knowledge that a fight was going on in their rear.

Tom jumped at the chance of employing against the enemy the manoeuvre which the enemy had unsuccessfully employed against him. He ordered the greater part of his men to creep through the trees and bush on each side, taking care to avoid making the least noise, and to halt when they came within fifty yards of his old trench, now manned by the enemy. At the same time, to divert attention, he sent word to the men he had left at the bend to fire a shot occasionally, aiming at the cliffs.

When all was ready he gave the signal, and with a vociferous whoop eighty men sprang from their places of concealment and followed him in a whirlwind dash upon the trench. The askaris there, taken aback by this sudden charge of an enemy who had hitherto stood wholly on the defensive, had no ears for the commands of their German lieutenant. Without pausing even to fire one volley, they sprang out of the trench, sprinted over the ruins of the barricade, leapt the moat or crossed by the hurdles, and fled helter-skelter into the forest, flinging away their arms as they ran.

Tom's men dashed after them in a flush of enthusiasm; among the pursuers none were nimbler or more excited than the captured askaris. Tom shouted to them to take the fugitives prisoners, and not to use their weapons except against those who resisted. As for himself, he put every ounce of what little energy remained to him into the chase of the German officer, who, finding himself deserted by his men, had shown a clean pair of heels. Tom was up with him before he gained the forest. The German, aware that he was outrun, suddenly swung round and half raised his arm to fire his revolver. But he was a shade too late. Tom hurled himself upon him with all the impetus gained in his sprint across the clearing, struck the revolver from his hand with his left fist, and with his right dealt the officer a smashing blow on the chin that sent him headlong backward with a crash.

Leaving him to be picked up by some of the older and less fleet-footed of the negroes, Tom hurried on towards the sounds of firing. He had no need to go far. Fugitives from the nullah had reached their comrades, who were falling back before a force of white men and Rhodesian police advancing on a wide front. Realising that they were between two fires, the enemy gave up the hopeless struggle, and scattered to right and left, seeking safety in the pathless forest. The firing ceased, and within ten minutes of leaving the nullah Tom was grasping the hand of a tall bronzed Englishman who bore a major's crown upon his sleeve.

"Tom Willoughby, I suppose," said that officer, looking with a quizzical smile into the tired brown eyes on a level with his own.

"You're Major Burnaby?"

"Yes. A nice little scoop, eh? Now, we've no time to lose. Take me to your nullah. Your people must trek at once. We've cut the wires on the Neu Langenburg road. Two detachments half a mile apart are holding a place clear for our crossing. With luck we'll get through before they send up troops from Bismarckburg. But we must hurry."