If determined to conquer at the sacrifice of life, they could not fail to succeed; but he had seen enough of black warriors to know that when met with determination they were not likely to persevere. Sayd seemed to be of the same opinion. He spoke to his people, and urged them to fight to the last. Masika also addressed her followers, reminding them of their character for courage, and urging them to fight bravely in defence of their white friends, and of her and her son. The men responded with loud cheers, which were heard by their advancing foes. It had the effect of making the latter halt just as they came within gun-shot, when the chiefs, who were known by their tall plumes and the leopard skins round their waists, were seen speaking to their followers, apparently urging them to the attack.
“Would that we had the means of letting them understand that we have no wish to injure them, and desire only peaceably to pass through their country,” observed Sayd.
“Haven’t we got something to serve as a flag of truce?” asked Ned. “A piece of white calico at the end of a spear would answer the purpose.”
“They would not understand it,” answered the Arab.
“I should like to try,” said Ned.
“You would probably be speared as soon as you approached.”
Scarcely had he spoken when once more, with loud shrieks and cries, the warriors came on.
“Fire, my brave men!” cried Sayd, and every gun was discharged, Sambroko picking out one of the chiefs, who fell wounded, as did several more, though none were killed. Still other chiefs led the way; undaunted they advanced in spite of another volley, the defenders of the knoll loading and discharging their muskets as fast as they could. In vain Ned set them the example, and Sayd urged them to take better aim. Except Sambroko and a few of the more disciplined men, they fired at random.
Their assailants had almost reached the foot of the knoll when some of Sayd’s men cried out that their ammunition was expended and asked for more. In vain Hassan was sent to look for it. Package after package was turned over, but none was to be found. Three or four rounds at the utmost remained in the pouches of any of the party; when they were expended there would be nothing but the breastwork to stop the progress of their foes. Sayd entreated those who had cartridges not to throw a shot away. On the enemy pressed; they had begun to climb the side of the knoll, hurling their javelins at its defenders. Sayd, in spite of the desperate state of affairs, exhibited the coolest courage, his fire checking several times the advance of the foe; but he and Ned had both discharged their last round. The chief leading the way had almost gained the breastwork, when Sambroko, leaping over it, dealt him a blow on the head with his clubbed musket, which sent him falling back among his followers. Others, however, were rushing on to avenge his death.
In another instant they would have been up to the breastwork, when a loud shout was heard and a body of men, bearing an English ensign in their midst, was seen emerging from the wood to the south-east. As they advanced a British cheer was heard, which was replied to by Ned, and echoed, though in a somewhat strange fashion, by his companions, who, picking up the javelins aimed at them, hurled them back on their foes. The latter seeing a fresh body approaching to the assistance of those they were attacking, and dismayed by the fall of their chief, retreated hastily down the knoll, and on reaching level ground took to flight to avoid a volley fired at them by the new-comers. On came the British party. Ned, with his heart leaping into his mouth, rushed down the hill to meet them. In another instant his hand was being grasped by Lieutenant Hanson and his old messmate Charley Meadows, while Tom Baraka, springing forward, clasped him in his arms, exclaiming—