Half-a-dozen times over I heard the captain’s voice cheering us on, and shouting, “Gate, gate!” Then I saw the flash of his sword once, and managed to pin a fellow who was making at him, just as we got out at the other end with a fierce rush. Directly after I heard the captain shout “Rally!” and saw him wave his sword; and then I don’t recollect any more; for it was one wild fierce scuffle—stab and thrust in the midst of a surging, howling, maddened mob, forcing us towards the gateway.
I thought it was all over with us, when there came a cheer, and the gate was thrown open, a dozen men formed, and charged down, driving the niggers back like sheep; and then, somehow or another, we were cut out, and, under cover of the new-comers, reached the gate.
A ringing volley was then given into the thick of the mutineers as they came pouring on again; but the next minute all were safely inside, and the gate was thrust to and barred; and, panting and bleeding, we stood, six of us, trying to get our breath.
“This wouldn’t have happened,” says a voice, “if my advice had been taken. I wish the black scoundrels had been shot. Where’s Captain Dyer?”
There was no answer, and a dead chill fell on me as I seemed to realise that things had come now to a bad pass.
“Where’s Sergeant Williams?” said Lieutenant Leigh again; and it seemed to me that he spoke in a husky voice.
“Here!” said some one faintly; and turning, there was the sergeant seated on the ground, and supporting himself against the breastwork.
“Any one know the other men who went out on this mad sally?” says the lieutenant. “Where’s Harry Lant?” I says. There was no answer here either; and this time it was my turn to speak in a queer husky voice, as I said again,—
“Where’s Measles? I mean Sam Bigley.”
“He’s gone too, poor chap,” says some one. “No, he ain’t gone neither,” says a voice behind me; and turning, there was Measles tying a handkerchief round his head, muttering the while about some black devil. “I ain’t gone, nor I ain’t much hurt,” he growled; “and if I don’t take it out of some on ’em for this chop o’ the head, it’s a rum ’un; and that’s all I’ve got to say.”