When Ferrier reached the wall, he saw the Swahilis and their followers coming up the slope in a straggling body. The moment they perceived him, they halted; those who had rifles fired them off, too hurriedly to take effective aim; the others let fly a shower of arrows. Then they all rushed forward, a disorderly shouting mob. Ferrier fired his rifle, but his men had not had time to reload, having hastened from the bastion immediately after the final volley upon the causeway. The enemy had come within about twenty yards of the wall when Ferrier, whipping out his revolver, snapped a shot at Juma and winged him. The big man fell to the ground with a howl of pain; his men halted in consternation. This was not the easy victory they had been promised. Their hesitation was fatal. It had given time to the men on the wall to load their pieces. A general fusillade spattered bullets among the waverers; it quickened them into action, but instead of continuing their advance they turned tail and bolted down the slope, pursued by a shower of arrows. Juma had risen, and struggled along with the help of two of his kind. They fled with all speed among the trees, and the garrison, yelling with delight, saw them no more that day.
[CHAPTER THE TWENTY-SECOND--A Counter Stroke]
John had every reason to be satisfied when he took stock of the results of the action. The enemy had been thoroughly routed, with considerable loss: he had no men killed, and only a few with superficial flesh wounds. But he looked grave enough when, at dinner-time, Ferrier confessed that he had already had to put the men on half rations.
"Our only hope is that the enemy have had enough of it and will clear off," he said. "The 'bad men,' at any rate, won't think much of their job."
"And Juma himself has had a reminder that won't leave him for a few days. But if they don't clear off----"
"We must wait and see. There ought to be plenty of fish in this pool; couldn't we try a little angling?"
"What about hooks?"
"Well, there are some empty condensed milk-tins; we can make some sort of hooks out of them. And as for bait--I say, look there!"
Two vultures were swooping down upon the western end of the island.
"Sickening!" said Ferrier, with a shudder. "I'll go and pot them and get the men to attend to things there. The birds will give us bait, and the men may like to eat them--I couldn't."