Tom Willoughby's Scouts: A Story of the War in German East Africa

by Herbert Strang

On the way he was met by Moses himself, running to tell him that the men above had sent word that the enemy was upon them, and asking that the m'sungu would come to their assistance. Knowing the nature of the ground they were defending, Tom guessed that the support they craved was rather moral than material. He did not care to send for reinforcements to Mirambo, who might yet be hard pressed; but as he passed through the village he collected half a dozen men who had been slightly wounded in the first action, and ordered them to follow him up the ladder. Unknown to him they were joined by the armed sentry who patrolled the lake-side opposite the island. The man afterwards explained that he was tired of watching prisoners, and wished to have his share in useful work.

Tom found, as he had expected, that the men guarding the cleft had no reason to be alarmed. Posted behind the first of the barricades commanding a difficult passage along which the enemy must come in single file, they could have held the position indefinitely. It appeared that the sight of a white officer among the askaris who had emerged from the end of the ravine had struck them with dread: how could black men stand against a m'sungu? They hailed Tom's arrival with shouts of delight. Being for once unaccompanied by Mwesa, he was unable to cheer them with words; but he managed to make them understand by signs that he trusted them, stayed with them for a few minutes while they fired at the enemy, who showed no eagerness to risk the perils of advancing against a position so formidable; then, confident that all was safe in this quarter, at any rate for a time, hastened back to where the danger threatened.

Just before he came to the rock from which the lake was visible, he heard shouts of alarm and excitement from below. Surely the enemy could not already have broken through? There had been no firing. Hurrying down at some risk of a fall, he halted at the rock in amazement at an extraordinary drama that was being enacted.

Between the island and the shore a crazy raft was rocking in the water, under the paddles, rough branches of trees, wielded in desperate haste by the German prisoners. From Tom's high position the reason of their frantic exertions was only too apparent. He could see far into the clear water of the lake. About the raft it was alive with crocodiles. The hideous reptiles swam round and round, sheering off where the water was churned by the paddles, but pushing their snouts on to the edges of the raft where the paddlers stood.

The scene would have been laughable but for a possible element of tragedy. The raft was so slight, evidently so hastily put together, that it dipped now on one side, now on another, under the strokes of the paddles or the pressure of the crocodiles' snouts. Water poured over it. The men dared not shift their positions, for every moment threatened to make it capsize. Divided between anxiety to gain the shore and the urgency of beating off their horrid foes, they used their futile paddles, now for propelling the raft, now for smiting the reptiles' heads.

"The madmen!" thought Tom. "How do they suppose they can escape? But where is the sentry?"

Women and children, shouting and screaming, thronged the shore, but there was no armed man among them.

Tom watched the scene as if fascinated. The positions of the men on the raft had evidently been arranged with care to ensure its balance, which was disturbed from moment to moment by the violence of their blows. In spite of all, they were making progress towards the lake-side. Suddenly, in a moment, Fate said her last word to Curt Reinecke. Intending to strike a snout that had just slid on to the raft almost at his feet, he overreached himself, the raft tilted, and he was in the water. The shriek that rose from the unhappy man rang long in Tom's ears. At the spot where he had fallen there was a furious swirl as the crocodiles crowded together, and disappeared into the depths of the lake.

For a moment Tom was paralysed with horror. Then collecting himself, he hastened down to the lake, and summoned the women to assist him in launching the large raft on which food was taken to the prisoners. Reinecke's fate had given the others a short respite. Before the reptiles returned to the surface the Germans had transferred themselves from the one raft to the other, and pale, cowed, trembling mortals, were paddled to the shore.

Tom had no time to question them, or to inquire about the missing sentry. The sound of scattered shots drew him at his best speed towards the trench. When he reached it, he found that his men were sniping at individual askaris who were hurriedly making their way, not up, but down the nullah. Surely the enemy were not withdrawing?