‘Come, lads,’ interposed the lance-sergeant, ‘time’s up. Don’t get looking for the strawberry marks, or may be the niggers will drop on to you and save you all the trouble.’
‘You’re right,’ said Herbert promptly. ‘All this will keep. Now, Rechab, lad, to your post. There’s more to tell you, but that, too, will keep.’
Why tell him that Ernest Farrington was also there sharing their danger?
Herbert, following the lance-sergeant’s advice, resolved to hold the stockade, but at its angles and points only, whence a fairly good flanking fire across the front could be maintained. At each of these he posted a small detachment under the command of a non-commissioned officer, to whom he gave explicit orders. They were to save ammunition, to ‘fire slow and fire low,’ as the general said, and hold on till they got the signal to retire. This would be passed from the centre the moment the stockade was forced at any point. The retreat was to be made with all speed upon the hospital under cover of its fire. At the hospital itself a small garrison was also posted from the first, composed of the convalescents; of all, in fact, who had spirit enough to rise from their beds. Even Dr. McCosh got out his revolver and promised to assist. None of the sick were strong enough to form part of the outer line, nor could they have retreated rapidly when that line was broken through, but they would be able to load and fire alternately standing and sitting, and so contribute much to the general inner defence.
When these dispositions were in a fair way towards completion, Herbert went in search of his commanding officer to report progress.
‘Will you inspect the post, sir? Everything is as ready as we can make it. We only want the enemy now, and they can come on as soon as they please.’
Mr. Farrington winced slightly at the mention of the enemy, but he was now far more master of himself than when Herbert had seen him last. He had pulled himself together, and seemed about to take his proper position as commanding officer and chief. Like many other weak spirits, he made up for former shortcomings by assuming a blustering air.
‘I daresay you have done your best. We shall see. Where are the men posted? At the stockade? Oh, this won’t do at all. We cannot hold the stockade; we are too few. The hospital is our only chance. Everyone must be concentrated there.’
‘But, sir, we cannot resign the stockade without a shot.’
‘Do you dispute my orders? I’ll put you under arrest, and have you tried for mutinous conduct. Who are you? What’s your name?’