CHAPTER XVI
'GAINST HEAVY ODDS
The Rhodesians were men of few words. They were men of action; of the same blood as the gallant party who, under Major Wilson, fought against thousands of Matabele until the last cartridge had been fired and the last man fell with his face to the foe under the keen stabbing-spears of Lobengula's warriors.
The enemies that were threatening them were of a worse type. The Askaris, naturally ferocious, were under German command, and the German, whenever he is confident that he is on the winning side, exhibited all the brutality and cruelty of his Hunnish ancestors. Attila was a scourge; his modern descendants are simply imitators who, having the thin veneer of civilisation, combine science with bestial brutality in their methods of waging war.
Two of the troopers who were acquainted with the native dialect proceeded to place the village under a rough form of organisation. In spite of the severe restrictions laid upon the natives by their German taskmasters—amongst others they were not allowed to carry arms—the blacks managed to produce long-secreted numbers of spears, bows and arrows and a few antiquated smooth-bore muskets.
Men were sent into the bush to cut down thorns and sharpened stakes. These were set up in front of the existing stockade, the inner side of which was still further strengthened by earth thrown up from a trench three feet from its base. "Panjies" or sharpened bamboos were set obliquely from the foot of the stockade, on the outside, to check a rush at close quarters; the stockade itself, forming no protection against modern rifle-fire, was to be used merely as an obstacle, the defenders seeking cover in the ditch and behind the embankment formed from the excavated material.
Hardly were these preparations completed when the shrill notes of a bugle rang out, and a mounted officer, followed by a native orderly bearing a white flag, appeared from the cover afforded by the bush.
Evidently the Huns had more faith in the Briton's respect for the flag of truce than they had regard for that emblem in the hands of their foes, for after a brief pause the officer, finding that his appearance was not greeted with a volley of rifle-bullets, trotted boldly towards the closed gate of the stockade.
"Halt!" ordered the Rhodesian officer, when the German drew within audible distance. "Deliver your message."
The German, standing in his stirrups, shouted a demand for the instant surrender of the garrison, promising honourable treatment if the terms were complied with, and stating that the investing troops were fully aware of the weak numbers of the British patrol.
"You might have spared yourself the trouble, Herr Offizier," replied the patrol commander. "We mean to stick it."
"Vat you mean by 'stick it'?" demanded the envoy.
"To fight it out," was the grim reply. "Come on; we're ready."
The German made no further remark to the Rhodesian, but began an harangue in the native dialect, inciting the blacks to turn against their white allies, promising immunity and rewards.
"Stop that!" shouted the patrol commander sternly, raising his voice above the angry murmur of the villagers. "Another word and the flag of truce will not protect you."
The Hun scowled sardonically, and out of sheer bravado resumed his incitement to the natives to surrender.
Picking up a rifle the Rhodesian took careful aim at the horse's chest at point-blank range. The weapon barked. For a moment neither horse nor rider stirred, then without warning the animal's forelegs collapsed, throwing the Hun headlong in the dust.
The terrified orderly wheeled, and casting aside the white flag, rode at full gallop to the shelter of the bush, his hasty and undignified retreat being carried out without let or hindrance on the part of the defenders of the kraal.
The German officer lay where he fell, the dead steed pinning him down as it lay on its side with its hind, off-side leg rigidly extended at an oblique angle to the ground. Partly stunned by his fall the officer tried ineffectually to rise; then after a while he relaxed and lay motionless in the broiling sun with swarms of mosquitoes buzzing round the prostrate horse and rider.
Apart from the advantage of having a prisoner in their possession the call of humanity urged the defenders to release and bring in the injured Hun. The barricaded gate was thrown open, and two troopers ran to effect the work of mercy. Even as they bent over the prostrate officer and dragged aside the animal's carcass a ragged fire burst from the bush at a distance of five hundred yards. Bullets ricochetted from the dusty ground or whizzed unpleasantly close to the men's ears; but coolly they proceeded with their task, and, unscathed, regained the shelter of the stockade, bearing their prisoner between them.
"It's von Bohme, second-in-command of the Kelji Post," declared Rupert Wilmshurst. He was too chivalrous to relate the indignities and hardships he had suffered at the hands of this Hun in particular. "They abandoned the post yesterday. Unless I'm mistaken they've a couple of machine guns with them."
"Any field guns?" asked Dudley anxiously.
"Not to my knowledge," replied his brother.
"Thank heaven for that!" rejoined the subaltern fervently. "Well, how do you feel?"
"Able to use a rifle," answered Rupert grimly.
A heavy hostile fire was being maintained from three sides, the bullets either flying high—one of the characteristic faults of African native troops—or else knocking splinters from the timbers forming the palisade. The defenders, lying close, made no attempt to reply, for the attackers were adept at taking cover and offered no target to the former's fire. Presently, as Rupert Wilmshurst had predicted, came the rat-tat-tat of a machine gun, and a swathe of bullets traversed the open ground in front of the defences, rising until the hail of nickel simply cut a gap in the palisade like a scythe against the ripe corn.
Between the huts some villagers engaged in driving their goats to a more secure spot came under the machine-gun fire, two men being killed and four wounded, the herd suffering severely; but these were the only casualties, the defenders, both white and black, keeping admirable cover.
For a quarter of an hour the one-sided action was maintained, then still under the covering fire of the machine gun a battalion of Askaris advanced at the double in company formation en échelon. Simultaneously a half-battalion debouched on the opposite side of the kraal.
Until the stormers came within four hundred yards their advance was covered by the machine guns (for another had joined in the fray), and consequently the scanty defenders dare not risk exposure; but the moment the covering fire had to cease lest it should cause casualties amongst the advancing troops the Rhodesians opened rapid fire at almost point blank range.
The front attack stopped dead, the Askaris in open order falling in heaps before the accurate fire of the trained Rhodesians. Despite the efforts of their officers to advance the native troops refused to stand. Bolting they were followed by galling volleys until the resumption of the deadly machine-fire compelled the defenders to take cover.
The rear attack was a more formidable affair, in spite of the fact that the enemy force was considerably smaller than that of the frontal assault. Met by fewer rifles, for only a mere handful of white men could be told off on that side of the kraal, the Askaris contrived to reach the palisade. It was here that the native auxiliaries proved their worth, for with stones, arrows and throwing spears they put up such a formidable defence that at close quarters these primitive weapons held their own against the rifles and bayonets of the German black troops.
For several moments the contest swayed with varying success until more Rhodesians, who could now be spared from the front on which the main assault had been repulsed, doubled up and made such good use of their rifles that the enemy broke and fled, leaving behind forty or fifty of their number lying dead in front of the stockade.
"Guess they've had enough," remarked Rupert Wilmshurst, who notwithstanding his weak state had played a strong part in the defence.
"Doubt it," replied his brother. "Perhaps they won't make another frontal attack while daylight lasts, but when it's dark they'll try their luck."
The hours passed slowly. Occasional bursts of machine-gun fire punctuated the continuous rifle-firing from the men concealed in the bush. It was a prodigious waste of ammunition without any good result, for the white men were too hardened to be shaken by the moral effect of bullets whizzing overhead, while the native warriors, taking the pattern set by their allies, showed no signs of fear or panic.
"If we only had a machine-gun," thought Dudley. "By Jove, I've a mind to have a shot at bringing in one of those brutes after dark."
He broached the matter to the patrol commander, who gave permission to any of his men to volunteer for the hazardous enterprise. There was no lack of aspirants, for practically every man expressed his wish to take part in the sortie. Finally the subaltern chose three Rhodesians and his Haussa sergeant.
Taking a compass bearing of the position of one of the machine-guns, for the cloud of steam arising from its overheated water-jacket disclosed its place of concealment, Wilmshurst made a careful note of the fact for subsequent use. There was, of course, the possibility of the machine-gun being moved as soon as night fell, but that was a risk that the sallying party must be prepared to chance.
Darkness came, but the desultory hostile fire was still maintained, the bush being pin-pricked with the vivid flashes from the rifles. It was now a nerve-racking ordeal, for more than once the defenders issued from their trench and manned the outer palisade under the erroneous impression that another attack was developing.
"It's a jolly good thing for us that they haven't any bombs," remarked the patrol-commander. "I don't fancy our blacks would stand up to them. By Jove! the villagers have shown any amount of pluck."
"They know that if the kraal's taken, their lives won't be worth a brass farthing," rejoined one of the men.
"Don't know so much about that," added another. "They had a chance to let us down and save their hides, but they weren't having any."
A meteor-like trail of reddish light whizzing through the air interrupted the argument. Anxiously the defenders watched the course of the missile, guessing but not knowing exactly what it was, until with a crash it alighted upon the palm thatched roof of a hut about in the centre of the kraal.
Several men rushed to the spot, regardless of the flying bullets, with the intent on of tearing away the smouldering missile, but before they could reach the hut the dull red glow gave place to a vivid bluish flame. The mobile weapon was an incendiary rocket.
In a minute the hut was a mass of flames, the sparks communicating the fire to the flimsily-constructed buildings adjoining it.
Strenuously the defenders, both white and black, sought to confine the devouring element to certain limits by pulling down the huts in the vicinity, but other incendiary rockets followed in rapid succession, while the fire of the machine-guns redoubled in violence.
The fire-fighters made excellent targets in the fierce light, their forms being silhouetted against the blazing huts, yet their losses were comparatively few, for the machine guns were badly laid. Nevertheless, before the men could take cover two Rhodesians were badly wounded, a dozen villagers killed and thirty odd seriously injured.
In the midst of this turmoil Dudley, whose attention was centred upon the enemy, detected a large body of men deploying from the bush. Simultaneously other formidable detachments advanced upon the kraal on all sides, showing up distinctly in the terrific glare of the burning huts. To add to the horror of the scene native women and children were shrieking in terror, and the horses and cattle were neighing and bellowing as they instinctively realised the peril that threatened them from the rapidly spreading flames.
But for the presence of their black allies the troopers would have mounted and ridden straight at their assailants, running a good chance of cutting their way out by weight of numbers and the speed of their horses; but no thought of abandoning the natives to their fate entered the heads of their allies. It would be a fight to a finish.
Leaving the conflagration to take its course every available man hastened to the palisade. Rapid independent fire delayed but failed to check the charge of ferocious, wildly shouting Askaris, whose courage had been worked up by promises of rewards if successful, and dire punishment in the event of failure. Full in the blaze of light the horde of black faces gave the defenders the impression that they were confronting a swarm of demons.
On both sides rifles cracked, steel crossed steel. Again spears and arrows came into play, while some of the defenders hurled blazing faggots with great effect upon the German levies. Yells, shouts and shrieks of pain mingled with the rattle of musketry and the roar of the burning huts.
Both sides fought stubbornly and furiously, but with this difference: the defenders of the kraal were staking their existence upon the result, the attackers, although under severe penalties in the event of failure, were not confronted with the supreme decision that awaited their foes.
Taking a favourable opportunity Wilmshurst and his squad climbed over the palisade at a point where no attack was being made, and dropping to the ground doubled in the direction of the now silent machine gun. It was a daring stroke, as it temporarily weakened the little garrison, where every rifle counted; but in the event of the raid proving successful the possession of the deadly weapon would make all the difference between victory and defeat.
Overtaking and avoiding numbers of wounded Askaris and a fair sprinkling of Germans painfully making their way back to their lines the raiders covered the intervening eight hundred yards in double time. At the edge of the scrub the subaltern halted his men in order that they might recover their breath.
They had discarded their rifles. Dudley and the Rhodesians were armed with revolvers, Bela Moshi carrying an automatic pistol, formerly the possession of a now defunct Hun, and a long, heavy, keen-edged knife resembling the Mexican machete. Each man knew exactly what was required of him, and, what was more, he was capable of carrying it out.
Creeping through the bush and outwitting a couple of Askari sentries posted on the right front of the machine gun position the raiders came in sight of their coveted prize.
The gun team was standing easy chattering furiously, and paying scant attention to the progress of their comrades in the assault. Bela Moshi afterwards declared that they were squabbling over the possession of a small keg of rum, which was to them a far more important business than the attack upon the kraal. Their European non-commissioned officer was absent, otherwise the laxity of discipline would not have been taking place.
Apparently there were no infantry reserves. If there were, they were posted at a considerable distance from the machine gun position. It was, therefore, expedient to make a surprise attack with fire-arms, since the noise was immaterial as far as alarming the supports, and very efficacious in throwing the machine gunners into a state of demoralization.
Of the six Askaris forming the detachment five dropped at the first volley; the sixth, after first rolling on the ground, sprang into the bush, followed by a couple of shots the effect of which was not known.
Smartly Bela Moshi picked up the gun and tripod; a Rhodesian corporal and a trooper seized the box containing the ammunition. Then, preceded by a sergeant and followed by Wilmshurst and the remaining man, the raiders bore off their trophy.
Followed by the ineffectual fire of the two sentries the squad doubled. By the sounds in the rear it was evident that the alarm had been communicated to the reserves, as the hurried patter of bare feet and the excited orders of the German section commanders announced that the men were aware of the loss of the machine gun. Musketry fire was opened upon the retiring raiders, but in the darkness the shots whizzed harmlessly overhead.
The haphazard fire was, however, taking toll amongst the attackers who, already casualties, were crawling or walking back from the palisade. A German officer, hit in the left arm, blundered right upon the captured weapon and its escort. For the moment he was puzzled, knowing that orders had been issued for the machine-gun party to remain in their original position. Then, distinguishing the British uniform, he drew a pistol and shouted to the party to surrender.
"Surrender yourself!" exclaimed the Rhodesian sergeant, raising his revolver.
The Hun's reply was a shot that nicked the lobe of the non-com.'s right ear. Almost immediately the latter returned the compliment, shooting the German dead on the spot.
"Sorry," muttered the Rhodesian apologetically, for he had respect for a brave foe. "You asked for it, Fritz."
The next instant Beta Moshi stumbled, the subaltern only just contriving to avoid tripping over his prostrate body. Thinking that the Haussa sergeant was hit one of the covering party began to raise the machine-gun from the ground, but the Haussa was holding it tightly in his arms.
Almost overthrowing the Rhodesian Bela Moshi regained his feet, swung the trophy over his shoulder and resumed his pace.
The returning party were only just in time. Already a formidable number of Askaris had broken through the stubbornly-defended palisade, and by sheer weight were forcing their opponents back.
Faced by hordes of German levies and with the line of burning huts preventing further retirement the defenders of the kraal were in a very tight corner indeed.