"I seed 'im makin' for his caboodle just after that there set-to last night, sir," volunteered one of the seamen. "Shall I rout 'im out?"
"No, I'll go," said Dacres. "I can speak his lingo." And crossing the intervening stretch of sand he reached the artificial hollow that the Turk had dug out.
Afir-al-Bahr was lying on his side; his "prayer-carpet", which devout Mohammedans carry with them in all circumstances, was spread at his feet. To all appearance the Turk was sleeping peacefully—but it was the sleep of death. During the attack on the zariba he had received a mortal wound; yet, with a remarkable reticence, he had crawled away to die in solitude.
They buried him hastily in the hollow he had constructed. No volleys were fired over his grave—cartridges were too precious for that; no "Last Post" rent the air, since no bugle was available. Yet the homage of the Portchester Castle's ship's company to a brave and gallant enemy—a man who had done his level best to blow the ship to pieces, and had afterwards fought side by side with his country's foes—was none the less sincere.
Hardly had the last rites been accomplished when signs of renewed activity were visible amongst the Senussi. During the night their numbers had been augmented by other bands of desert nomads, until the present strength more than exceeded the force that had delivered the previous attack with such disastrous results.
Yet the Arabs appeared to be in no immediate hurry. Evidently they guessed that the defenders were scantily supplied with food and water. They could afford to wait until the British, faint with hunger, and weakening under the effect of the enervating, torrid atmosphere, would be unable to offer any strenuous resistance.
"I almost wish they'd make a move, by Jove, I do!" remarked Dacres. "Suppose I oughtn't to say it though, since the longer they wait the more chance we have of rescue; but it's slow work hanging on to a mound of sand and expecting those fellows to make a rush."
"Looks as though your half-expressed wish will be gratified, old man," replied Major Fane, as a swarm of white-robed men edged along to the right of the defenders' position, taking considerable care to keep good cover. "See their move? They're making for the beach. If they get behind us, there'll be the deuce to pay!"
The tactics of the Senussi necessitated a rearrangement of the defenders. At Captain M'Bride's order, those of the riflemen who had been armed with rifles taken from the dead Arabs were detached from the centre and moved to a flanking position, so as to command the approach along the shore. Those seamen who had brought their own rifles were still retained in front of the zariba, so as to check any frontal attack.
Meanwhile Osborne, assisted by two volunteers, boldly left the shelter of the trenches and began to dig up the scorched and blistered petrol tins. These they set up in a conspicuous place a few yards in front of the original line, coolly completing the task in spite of an erratic fire from the Arab sharpshooters.