CHAPTER XIX.
FIGHT AT MUNITHU AND DEPARTURE FROM M’THARA.
Attack on Bei-Munithu’s village—Poisoned arrows—The burning of the village—The return march—Determined pursuit of the A’kikuyu—Karanjui—George’s fall—Return to the M’thara Camp—Interview with Bei-Munithu—His remorse—Departure from M’thara—Rain—Hyænas—A lioness—Bad country—Whistling trees—A lion—Increasing altitude—Zebra.
An hour before sunrise we arose, and, giving the men the most precise instructions to husband their ammunition to the utmost and leave any shooting to George and myself should it become necessary, we marched on to Bei-Munithu’s village. The moment we sighted it, where it stood on the summit of a hill, we rushed forward with a cheer, and, swarming up the side of the hill, we succeeded in getting into the village before the inhabitants knew what was happening. It was captured without a shot being fired, the natives fleeing out at the other end and into the bush. Instructing the men to collect as much food as they could carry, I took three or four with me and made for the huts where our goods were stored. Breaking them open, we soon had the loads out, and I then proceeded to Bei-Munithu’s hut. Bei-Munithu himself was nowhere to be seen. On searching his hut I found a large quantity of our goods stowed away in odd corners, and I was not at all surprised to find that some of them were a portion of the goods which were supposed to have been stolen from Bei-Munithu’s charge by the Wa’gnainu, and in which that old arch-traitor had evidently gone shares. I also found and promptly confiscated an old muzzle-loading musket, which was among his most treasured possessions.
By this time, as the men had collected all our loads of trade goods and also a few loads of food, I gave the command to retire. As I did so the phwit! phwit! of poisoned arrows aroused our attention, and a few of the tiny feathered shafts fell into the village and stuck quivering in the ground. It was very evident that the A’kikuyu did not intend to let us get away without a struggle. The men had also collected a few head of cattle and a large number of sheep and goats; and as it seemed that we should have to fight, I determined to make a running fight of it, and make it a good one while we were about it, and so teach the enemy a lesson, though we were sadly handicapped for want of Snider ammunition.
When I had got my little force together, I first set fire to the village, and then formed them up outside. As the enemy would most likely harass our rear, I took the rearguard myself, putting George in command of the bulk of the men, with the loads and the captured stock. I asked him at the same time to see that the men did not fire a shot till it was absolutely necessary. Barri, the Somali, took the advance guard of our little column.
By this time the smoke of the burning village and the cries of the fugitive inhabitants had aroused the whole country-side, and from the manner in which the war-cries resounded over hill and dale on every side, we discovered that we were in for a rather rough time. Our little force therefore moved off in the order described at ten minutes to eight in the morning, on the return march to M’thara.
The first hour’s march took us through a number of scattered villages, the inhabitants of which fled on our approach and joined the ever-growing force which threatened our rear. The villages were built in the midst of extensive banana plantations, and it was here that the first symptoms of serious opposition manifested themselves. A number of warriors concealed among the bananas commenced to pepper us with poisoned arrows at very short range, though fortunately none of the men were hit. One bold warrior let fly an arrow at George at not more than thirty yards, and then, catching my eye, he subsided behind a banana tree. He did not take into account the penetrative power of a ·303, and I think he must have been a very surprised native indeed when my bullet passed through the pulpy stem of the banana. Another let fly an arrow at the mule, which was being led, and missed her by an inch. George caught him with the 20-bore, dropping him, and then, swinging round, stopped another adventurous warrior who was creeping up to him with the other barrel, to the native’s intense discomfiture.
After a little more light skirmishing of this description on the route, we reached a small clearing, and on coming out into the open were cordially greeted with a shower of arrows from a large number of the enemy concealed in the bush on the opposite side. A smart fusillade from our men put a temporary check on the proceedings of this informal reception committee, and we continued our advance. Another warrior, who recklessly exposed his person in order to make insulting remarks with greater effect, retired precipitately with a much better idea of the theory of projectiles than he had hitherto possessed; and another who received a spherical ball in the leg at 200 yards from George, ceased to take any further interest in the proceedings. After this interchange of civilities the enemy kept out of range for awhile, and allowed us to cross the remainder of the banana plantations in safety, and into the thick bush on the other side; however, they were merely gathering reinforcements and preparing to attack in earnest.
It being, I believe, an axiom of warfare that “a retreating column should resemble a scorpion and carry its sting in its tail,” I picked out Resarse ben Shokar and Asmani ben Selim as being two of the coolest men, and they, together with a boy named Koranja, who carried my cartridge-bag and binoculars, formed my rearguard. George, with the main body of the men, had his hands full in preventing them firing away their few cartridges at the scenery, and then throwing down their loads and bolting—a proceeding which would have resulted in immediate and overwhelming disaster.
When we got into the thick bush the enemy tried several times to rush us, but the bush was as much in our favour as theirs, as it was too thick for them to use their arrows, for which providential circumstance I was devoutly thankful. Once or twice some of the bolder spirits advanced openly along the rearward path in the endeavour to rush my two men and myself, and cut us off, but the Lee-Metford is a beautiful weapon under such circumstances, and they abandoned the attempt. The enemy were constantly increasing in numbers, and the noise they made with their shouting and war-cries was terrific. I think they did it to keep their courage up, but it is a terrible waste of breath. They soon afterwards concentrated in force on our flanks and rear and tried another rush, but we were able by judicious shooting to keep them from getting too close.