The Three Commanders

by William Henry Giles Kingston

Though it would have given the Arabs infinite satisfaction to cut the throats of the whole of the party, they still hesitated to run the risk of being shot themselves at close quarters, probably supposing that the English were better armed than was the case. Tom watched all their movements through his glass. At length the chief of the slave-dealers, who had gone off to the dhows, returned on shore with several companions. Tom saw the others apparently telling him what had occurred. He appeared to be addressing them and working them up to mount the hill, then, waving his crooked sword, he led them on towards the only path by which they could ascend, they following, shouting and shrieking out vows of defiance.

“They’re coming,” cried Gerald; “there’s no mistake about it this time.”

“Well, then, you take one pistol and I’ll take another,” said Tom, “and as they get near enough we must pick off the leaders. Tim Nolan and the other fellows must manage the rest, after they have fired their muskets, with their cutlasses; and I’ve no fear but we shall give a very good account of the whole party.” Tom directed the men where to post themselves, so that they could remain concealed behind the rocks till it was time to spring out and meet the enemy hand to hand.

“That chief, or whatever he calls himself, seems a bold fellow,” observed Tom, “for he keeps ahead and seems to be encouraging his followers, who wouldn’t, without him, have had any stomach for the fight. We must do our best to try and pick him off, and if we can manage to give him his quietus, the rest will very quickly run away.”

The path made by the signal party was so narrow that there was not room for two people abreast; some little way down, however, there was a sort of platform, on which a considerable number could collect together. “If we could stop them before they get up there,” observed Tom, “we should have only one at a time to handle, whereas if they manage to assemble at that place, they might pepper us in an unpleasant manner.”

“I’m ready,” cried Desmond; “if you’ll give the word, we’ll all spring out together and stop them before they reach it.” Desmond told the men what Rogers proposed doing; they, of course, were ready to obey him, though it might have been safer to remain where they were. Still it was important that they should conceal themselves till the last moment. The leading Arab, with his sword in his teeth, was only about a couple of yards or so below the platform.

“Let fly at the fellows,” cried Tom. The men fired their muskets. “Now, lads, we’ll be at them,” shouted their young leader, and, springing up, he bounded over the rock, followed by Desmond and the four men, just in time to catch the leading Arab as his hand was on the edge of the platform. With a down-handed cut of his sword, Tom sent the Arab falling headlong down the cliff. The next met with the same fate, but the chief, who had allowed the other two to precede him, shouted to his followers to fire at the Englishmen. The order was obeyed, and a shower of bullets came whizzing by them. Tom, in return, fired at their leader, and, without stopping to see the effect of his shot, shouted to his men to fall back under cover before a second volley could reach them. Scarcely had they got under shelter when the Arabs again fired. He saw that his former manoeuvre would not be again executed with the same success.

The death of two of their companions appeared to have damped the ardour of the Arabs, who remained perched about the rocks, waiting for an opportunity to pick off any of the defenders of the height who might venture to show themselves. This, however, neither Tom nor his companions intended doing. Tom had recovered his glass, which he had left behind, and had taken a glance over the ocean to the northward in the hopes of seeing the ship, believing that her appearance would very quickly induce the Arabs to hurry off. She was nowhere to be seen, though he caught sight of several dhows running to the northward.

While thus engaged, the voice of the old chief was again heard, and though they could not understand his language, yet they judged from his tones that he was endeavouring to induce his countrymen to renew the attack. “It can’t be helped,” observed Tom calmly; “if they attempt to storm our position we must drive them back. Our wisest plan will be to keep under shelter as long as we can, and then to spring out on them as soon as they get their noses near enough.”

“Ay, ay, sir!” cried the men in cheerful tones; “we’ll soon give them a taste of our cutlasses, and they’ll not wish to have a second bite.”