Somebody caught me by the wrist, but I wrenched myself free; somehow or other the pressure in front of me became less. I found myself standing over the blue-jacket, with my back to the parapet, with only three or four Chinese in front of me, prodding at me with boarding-pikes and old cutlasses; but, strangely enough, it struck me even then that they were not trying to kill me. I discovered that I had an axe in my hand—how it got there I don't know—and was waving it round and round. The Maxims—our Maxims, by the noise they made—started again, and men were cheering all round me. Chinese came sweeping back past the sides of the gun-pit and brushing against me, and those in front seemed to melt away. It was just like a wave that had swept up a sea-shore, surged against a rock, flung itself all round it, and then, with its force spent, slid back to the sea.
Suddenly I was seized by the collar from behind and swung off the ground. I struggled, I bit, I hit out with what strength I had, but the axe was torn from my hand, my feet were swept from beneath me, and before I could even yell for help I was rushed across the plateau, over the breast-works, and down the side of the hill in the midst of the Chinese.
Just as we got below the edge, one of the men who had hold of me fell with a shriek.
I kicked myself free (he was dead), but two more pounced on me, threw me to the ground, lifted me up, struggling like a cat, and bore me down again.
I was half choked with the smoke of the burning bushes as they rushed through them, and a hundred yards below they stopped, threw me face downwards on the grass, forced my hands together behind my back, tied them there, and then two of the hulking cowards sat on me.
I didn't think—I didn't feel any pain; my brain seemed absolutely frozen, for, just as that brute had fallen and I had kicked myself free, I saw something which I shall never forget for the rest of my life.
Captain Hunter had seen me and, head and shoulders above the retreating Chinamen, had plunged down through them, roaring to his men to follow.
From the bushes below the great black-bearded man suddenly rose up. With curses and blows he rallied his men, and they turned and faced upwards. Down came Captain Hunter through a mob of them, cutting his way to me. He had a long-handled axe in his hand. Circling it round and round his head, striking to left and right, he was carving a way through them, and they gave way and fled helter-skelter, to leave him confronted by the huge European. I saw Captain Hunter's face light up with a fierce joy, and he raised his axe for a mighty stroke; but the European fired his revolver point-blank, the axe dropped from his hand, his arms sank to his side, he stared stupidly in front of him, the revolver cracked again, and, with a sob, I saw Captain Hunter disappear beneath a howling mass of Chinamen, who turned again with a yell of triumph. But by this time his marines had poured over the breast-work and flung themselves in front of his body, and that was the last I saw of that awful hilltop—the little knot of marines fighting slowly backwards towards their breast-work, and carrying Captain Hunter with them. I cared for nothing then. I did not even mind those brutes sitting on me.
Chinese came flying past, some shrieking with fright, others screaming with pain. One or two, when they saw me, tried to spring at me; but the two men drove them off, then lifted me up like a doll and carried me farther away, covering me with a Chinaman's tunic to prevent me from being recognized. They stripped it from a native lying wounded and dying in the bushes.
The noise of firing recommenced above me, and some bullets came crackling through the bushes (our bullets), and I almost wished that one would kill me.