The result of this last rush was that, horrible to relate, the breastwork was raised by the bodies of three fatally wounded Ghazis, who in their dying moments sought to revenue their deaths by cutting savagely at their foes as they lay.
“I can’t bay’net chaps who are down,” muttered Gedge, shrinking back; while at the same moment Mrs Gee uttered a wild cry, for one of the dying men had inflicted a horrible upward cut, which, as she was leaning forward, took effect upon her chin.
This movement on the part, of two of the strongest of the defenders seemed to be fatal. A weak place in their defence was displayed, and with a fierce yell the enemy crowded on in a final attack. This would have been fatal but for the bravery of the tottering invalids, who met the rush with a sharp volley from half-a-dozen pieces, and the flash and smoke were followed by a sudden burst of light, which flooded the ward, showing the enemy retiring a little, startled by the unexpected volley and wondering at the glare. This gave time for reloading, and another volley was fired as the enemy came on again.
This volley was followed by the commencement of a rolling fire outside, mingled with yells of rage, imprecations, loud orders, and the hoarse commands of officers. For the light given by the burning building was the opportunity required; and minute by minute the firing increased from the walls, as the scattered soldiery, many of whom had remained unarmed, found their way into their quarters to obtain rifles and bayonets, and joined their companions on the wall, able, and willing too, to take aim down into the seething mob of savages in the court, without risking destruction to a comrade or friend.
Three times over Colonel Graves summoned the enemy to surrender, and twice over native attendants were dragged forth to yell down to the Ghazis that their lives would be spared. All was in vain; the announcements were received with shouts of defiance, yells of hatred at the Christian dogs, and savage rushes were made at the steps leading up to the ramparts, in each case for the venturers to be partly shot down, the residue being hurled back from the point of the bayonet.
“It’s of no use, Graves—Roberts,” cried the Major; “it’s their lives or ours. Fire, my lads, fire!”
And by the increasing light of the flaming building, whose ruddy rays illumined the horrible scene of carnage, the fight went on, till the courtyard was dotted with the bodies of the wounded and slain, the survivors of the great flock of sheep cowering together close to the main gate, while others lay trampled down amongst the fallen, their thick fleeces having protected many from the cuts of the Ghazis’ swords.