"Yes, Major," added Captain M'Bride quietly. "I understand. We must never let them fall alive into the hands of these brutes."
Throughout the rest of the morning and well into the afternoon the Senussi continued their wearing-down tactics, making numerous feints, either singly or simultaneously at different points; yet no definite attack matured. All the while a long-range fire was directed upon the defences, and although the enemy wasted prodigious quantities of ammunition the net result was two men severely, and four slightly wounded.
"Now they mean business, I fancy," said Major Fane, as a tremendous hubbub, in which the beating of drums figured largely, came from the enemy position. "These fellows seem to fancy the hours before sunset."
A vast semicircle of dark-featured Arabs, their strength now exceeding three thousand, told pretty plainly that the defences were to be rushed from all available directions. This time, save for a few exceptions, all the attackers were on foot, although in the centre rode another green-turbaned Amir, bearing the emerald-hued banner that was to bring victory to the Faithful.
Even as the survivors of the Portchester Castle stood ready for the order to open fire, the air was torn by the shrill screech of a heavy projectile, quickly followed by another and another. With a succession of terrific crashes, twelve-pounder shells burst fairly amidst the dense serried ranks of the Senussi. It was more than fanatical courage could stand. They broke and fled, leaving the green banner torn to shreds in the grasp of the lifeless Amir.
Too utterly done up even to cheer, the rescued garrison gazed seawards. Less than two miles from shore, and pelting onwards at a good twenty-five knots, was a British destroyer. It was rescue in the very nick of time.
CHAPTER XIX
Misunderstandings
We left Sub-lieutenant Tom Webb and the whaler's crew in the act of being rescued by a destroyer flying the Italian ensign. The vessel was the Bersagliere, a 28-knot boat armed with four twelve-pounders.