The Three Commanders

by William Henry Giles Kingston

The operation did not take long, and once more the flotilla advanced, the tide carrying them rapidly up the river. About noon, as the sun was beating down with tremendous force, Angoxa came in sight, with, as the commodore had expected from the information he had received, several dhows at anchor before it under the protection of its guns. Directly the boats rounded the last point, which had before concealed their approach, the red flag was hoisted above the fort, and at the same time the loud sounds of the beating of tom-toms and drums commenced, continuing incessantly, as if to intimidate the English tars and induce them to pull back again to their ships.

The men laughed. “What a row them niggers do kick up! I wonder whether they think we’re going back frightened by all their tom-tomming. We’ll show them presently that we’ve got some chaps aboard which will bark not a little louder and do a precious deal more harm,” exclaimed Ben Snatchblock, who accompanied Mr Mildmay in one of the Opal’s boats. That young officer took things very coolly. He was observed with his notebook jotting down his thoughts, but whether in the form of a poetical effusion or not, Billy Blueblazes, who was beside him, could not ascertain, though he tried hard to do so.

“The great Wolfe recited poetry when about to die in the arms of victory on the heights of Abraham,” observed Mr Mildmay to the midshipman; “do you recall the lines to your memory, Billy? What were they?”

“I think, sir, they were something about ‘the curfew tolling the knell of parting day,’ but I can never recollect more of the poem.”

“Ah! so they were—let me see,” and the lieutenant bit the end of his pencil. “‘As Britain’s tars who plough the mighty deep.’”

“‘Sheep’ or ‘sleep’ come in rhyme with ‘deep,’” suggested Billy.

“Be silent—I want a grander term,” said the lieutenant. “‘Where waves on waves in wild confusion leap’—that’s fine isn’t it?”

“Yes, sir,” said Billy. “We’re up an African river, and are going to lick a lot of blackamoors; you’ll have a difficulty in bringing blackamoor into your lines, I’ve a notion.”

“Of course I should call them Arabs, their proper designation, when I get as far,” replied Mr Mildmay.

Just then the boat grounded, as did several others near her, and there the whole flotilla lay in sight of the fort, outside of which appeared a number of barracoons, but whether full of slaves or not it was impossible to say. The unavoidable delay of the leading boats enabled the others to overtake them; and as the tide rose, their crews shoved them over the shoals, and once more they advanced in line abreast. Their progress was slow; again several of the larger boats grounded, and the whole, consequently, had to wait till the rising tide floated them. The next time they grounded, the Arabs seemed to have discovered that they were within range of the eight guns mounted on the fort, as well indeed as the muskets of the large party sent out along the bank. The latter, as well as the guns in the fort, now began blazing away, shot and bullets flying thickly over and around the boats. Mr Mildmay at this juncture thought it as well to put his notebook into his pocket. The boats’ guns, however, were not to be idle; the commander gave the order to fire, and immediately they opened with spherical case-shot, grape and canister, the former thrown with great accuracy into the middle of the fort, while the latter quickly sent some of the swarthy heroes under shelter, and put the greater number to flight. Several of the men in the boats had been hit, which excited the eagerness of the crews to get at the foe. The first thing, however, to be done was to destroy the dhows. As the boats worked their way up over the shoals towards them, a hot fire was opened from those lowest down. This was quite sufficient to show their character, and the marines and small-armed men began peppering away at every Arab turban or cap of which they could catch sight, while the shells and grape prevented the enemy from returning to their guns in the fort. The tide, rushing in more rapidly than before, quickly enabled the smaller boats, led by Adair, to get up to the dhows. He was the first on board the largest, a craft of a hundred tons or more. Her crew, having had no time to escape, fought desperately. Some were cut down, and the rest driven overboard, not a human being remaining alive on board. She was at once set on fire, and the rest of the dhows were attacked in the same manner in succession. On board, some resistance was offered, but the crews of others, leaping overboard, attempted to save themselves by swimming to the shore. As there was no object in carrying any of them off, they were all burned, there being no doubt of their piratical character.