“Steady, my lads!” he cried, in a warning voice, after a quick glance round the square to see that we had made all proper preparations to give our friends the Somalis a hospitable reception. “Are you ready, Mr Shrapnell?”
“Aye, aye, sir,” replied ‘Gunnery Jack’ instanter, “all ready!”
“Then, we’ll blaze away and let the beggars have it all together,” yelled out ‘old Hankey Pankey,’ raising himself up in some wonderful sort of way on the top of the tree stump, for he could not stand on his legs; and, taking off his cap and waving it round his head thrice, he gave out the words, “One—two—three, Fire!”
Like a thunderclap, sharp, sudden, and rolling through the air with a concussion that shook the very ground under our feet, a murderous volley belched forth from our square, mowing down the Arabs as with the swath of a mower’s scythe, the mass of on-rushing, howling, swarthy Somalis sinking down to the ground, overborne by the avalanche of shot and shell we hurled at them; for, the rifles of us men, the guns of Mr Shrapnell’s battery, the revolvers of the officers, and the Maxim, all spoke at once and together.
Aye, so they did; and, though varied in tone, from the musical ‘Ping!’ of our Martinis to the crackling grunt of the quick-firing weapon, whose irritable cough could be heard above the deep boom of the nine-pounders which echoed through the woods, all spoke the same word—Death!
We had no need to give them a second volley, the fearful effects of our first having so intimidated the few survivors we could see in the distance, that these incontinently fled back into the bush, leaving us now to pursue our retreat to the coast without any further molestation on their part.
But, albeit conquerors in this our last stand, the victory came too late to cheer us; and it was with greatly saddened hearts and drooping faces, thus offering a strongly marked contrast to the bright enthusiasm with which we all had started up country in the morning, we now slowly retraced our way to the shore, to the south of Malindi.
Out of the two hundred bluejackets and marines who had landed from the Mermaid and Merlin at break of day, but half that number returned on board their respective ships at nightfall, when the sun sank over the hills to the westward like a ball of fire, crimsoning the heavens to the hue of the blood that had been spilt!
On reaching the Mermaid the surgeon had Captain Hankey carried down to his cabin at once, as he was now becoming faint with exhaustion; though, I believe, the mortification he felt at the Arabs having licked us gave him more pain than the damage done to his legs by the ball of the matchlock, which had taken him athwartship through the fleshy part of his understandings—breaking no bones, but crippling him all the same.
The surgeon, however, could not keep him quiet long below; for no sooner had his wounds been dressed than he insisted on being brought up on deck again, when he had the hands all mustered aft and spoke a few sympathising words to us anent the events of the day. He expressed his sorrow at the loss of so many good men and true, and added that, though defeated for the time, we would shortly have ‘a go at the Arabs’ again, and nail the Union Jack of old England yet on top of the Somali stronghold.