The Ruined Cities of Zululand

by Hugh Mulleneux Walmsley

“Give it them, my lads, no quarter for the bloody pirates. Overboard with them!” he shouted, as he dashed full at the leader of the Malays.

A furious combat again ensued, shouts, oaths, execrations, mingled with the pistol shots. The groans of the wounded, the yells of the combatants, changed what had been a quiet, peaceful scene into one of riot and bloodshed.

Dona Isabel, it has been said, had retired into her cabin; a single lamp was burning, and, perfectly unconscious of danger, she was preparing for rest, when the heavy boom of the forecastle gun startled her, and then the silence of the night seemed to be suddenly at an end, and the shouts, yells, and groans told too terribly of what was going on above her head. The cabin was deserted, the steward having joined the combatants, and as she opened the door her father’s voice was heard cheering on the men in her own tongue. She recognised the soldier’s shout as the pirates were slowly driven back, while, alone and frightened, she dropped on her knees in prayer. Suddenly a loud report right over her head startled her still more; for a moment all was silent, the yells and shouts ceasing as by magic, then a wild cheer from the crew followed, and Isabel, unable to bear the terrible suspense, rushed up the cabin hatchway. The stars were shining brightly, but the brig’s decks were slippery with blood. Her own boats had been veered astern, and close to her bows, two dark objects showed where the pirates had boarded.

The survivors of the boat which had been cut in two by the shot from the forecastle gun, had swum for the brig, scrambling over her bulwarks just as the captain so fiercely attacked the Malay leader. Both had grappled, and had rolled, struggling and fighting, into the chains, as the new comers, at once dashing forward, again bore back the crew. The forecastle was black with pirates.

“Lie down, men, shelter under the break of the quarter-deck!” shouted Hughes, as he jumped aft, and with nervous strength slewed round the second nine-pounder, pointing it so as to sweep the forecastle. “Down, down, for your lives!”

The next moment the loud report which had so startled Isabel rang out, and the rifle bullets swept in a storm of lead right among the black mass of men crowding the forecastle. Seizing the moment, with a loud cheer the now inspirited crew dashed on, over the dead and dying, and the broken pirates leaped madly over the bows. Many dropped into the sea, but swimming, were picked up; the boats shoved off, crippled, and pulling but few oars, a ringing cheer from the crew following them just as the frightened girl found herself on deck.

Hughes stood by the gun, his clothes torn, and his face black with the smoke; the peculiar smell of blood was perceptible, mixed with the odour of the gunpowder, and Isabel feeling it became sick and weak, just as a dark form, bounding from the main chains, leaped on to the quarter-deck. A loud shriek burst from her lips, as the Malay leader threw himself on Hughes. Partially overpowered, the soldier grasped his powerful foe by the throat. They swayed to and fro, struggling and fighting; the frightened girl rushed forward, the Malay striking wildly at her with his dagger. With a scream of pain Isabel fell on the deck just as a tremendous blow from the broken spar, given with a hearty good will, smashed in the Malay’s skull, both he and the soldier, who was held in the death grasp, falling to the deck.

“Hurrah for Old England!” shouted the excited captain, as he flourished the jagged and blood-besmeared spar over his head with one hand, and dragged Hughes clear of the dead Malay with the other. “See if any of the miscreants are below. A short shrift and a pistol bullet if you find any, my lads. Here, Mr Lowe, lend a hand with this lubber; he nearly did for me just now, but we are quits.”

A loud splash in the water told that the pirate had gone over the side, and every now and then a similar splash, with a “Yeo, heave ho!” from forward, marked the fate of a fallen Malay.

Carefully and gently Isabel was lifted from the deck and borne below by the steward and Hughes. Dom Maxara was forward, staunching a severe wound from a Malay creese in the shoulder. Wyzinski, who during the hand-to-hand combat had fought like a tiger, and received a stab in the leg, now remembered he was a missionary, and, though weak with loss of blood, was engaged smoothing the passage of one of the crew from the world his soul was quitting. Four men killed, and almost every one of the crew wounded, three severely, were the casualties on board the brig, while those among the pirates were never known, but must have been very severe.