Tom Burnaby: A Story of Uganda and the Great Congo Forest

by Herbert Strang

  CHAPTER XVIII

  The Great Fight

  Rumaliza takes the Field--Exit Mabruki--Tom checks a Rout--MbutuProtests--The Great Zariba--Coming to Grips--Beaten Off--The SecondAttack--Tom in the Breach--Rumaliza's Last Charge--The EightHundred--Nemesis

  When morning broke in cold and mist, the scene showed how complete hadbeen the surprise of the camp, and how one-sided the fight. More thantwo hundred men lay dead and wounded within the two stockades, and Tom'sheart bled as he realized how helpless he was to do anything effectualfor those whose wounds were serious. His own losses had been veryslight; many of the men had nothing but insignificant bruises and cutsto show, only a few had been killed. All the equipment of the camp, anda large quantity of arms and ammunition, had fallen into his hands,forming a very welcome addition to his resources. He estimated that thecaptured rifles and muskets would enable him to arm nearly six hundredmen.

  With the morning light came the katikiro with a hundred of his men. Hewas wild with delight at the discomfiture of the Arabs' scheme, andfurious with rage at the trick played upon him, which, but for Tom'svigilance and energy, would probably have succeeded only too well.Despatching three hundred men in pursuit of the Arab force, with ordersto bring back what prisoners they could, Tom led the katikiro aside andquestioned him on the extraordinary mistake he had made. Msala saidthat, on the evening of the day on which Kuboko started for the forest,a messenger had come into the village from an Arab force two marchesaway demanding its surrender.

  "I cut off his head," said Msala simply.

  Tom started, but the moment was not opportune for a reprimand.

  "What happened then?" he asked.

  "Nothing. I posted sentries as you bade me; nothing happened."

  "Where was Mabruki?"

  "He heard the man's message and saw me cut his head off, and he said hewould go into the fields and search for herbs and charms to keep thevillage safe."

  "And you let him go?"

  "What could I do, master? Mabruki is a strong man, and the people wouldhave grumbled if I had not let him go on such a good errand."

  "Always a moral coward, Msala," said Tom to himself. "Well, what then?"

  "He came back at dead of night with his herbs. Next day came themessenger from you, showing me the rag with the mark. I sent him backto you. I did not wish to send him, I thought he was tired, but Mabrukisaid send him, for he would know the way, and would tell you himselfthat his errand was fulfilled."

  "I sent no messenger; that man never reached me. Go on."

  "Then I sent the second message to say how weak I should be without theeight hundred. I did not tell Mabruki, for I thought he would beoffended."

  "No doubt."

  "And then I sent the eight hundred men to the burning mountain, as youbade me. And that is all I know till I saw the Arabs coming from thenorth and making their camp. I was ready to fight. I sent off anothermessenger to you; but you came, O Kuboko, and you have smitten them likehares."

  "I do not understand it yet. Where is Mabruki now?"

  "I left him burning grass in honour of your victory."

  "Very well. Go back to the village and keep a watch over him. Don'tlet him escape."

  The katikiro returned, with a very crestfallen look, to the village.Tom then gave orders that the Arab camp should be destroyed aftereverything of any value had been removed. By and by his three hundredreturned in twos and threes, bringing with them prisoners captured onthe confines of the forest. From one of these, an Arab, Tom succeededwith some trouble in extracting information about the previous movementsof the force to which he belonged. He found that, about a week beforethe main body of the Arabs had left their stronghold, a smaller force ofone thousand picked men had started under the leadership of De Castro,all armed with firearms. Their destination was not known when they setout, but they had approached the village by a circuitous route throughthe forest, some thirty miles to the west of the route adopted by themain force. Their object was to surprise the village after itsdefenders had been decoyed away. De Castro had not reckoned on findingany force in the village, believing that its full strength would, by thetime he arrived, have been drawn into the forest. What had happenedafter his messenger failed to return, this prisoner did not know.

  Questioning him further, Tom was rewarded with information of thegreatest interest and importance. The Arab stronghold lay many marchesto the north-west, on an island in the middle of a lake. It wasstrongly fortified, and so cleverly concealed that no one could suspectfrom the shore that the island was anything but a wilderness of bush andtrees. The forest surrounding the lake was dense, broken here and thereby clearings where slaves were kept. The officials of the Congo Statehad never once made their appearance there. No path led through theforest to the shore. The Arabs reached the lake by a river, their canoesbeing kept on the island and paddled out and in when required. No whiteman had ever seen this fortress--stay, one white man was probably therenow. On the way towards the village De Castro's force had met a bigred-faced man with brown hair all over his face, four eyes, two of themstuck on wires of gold, and a stomach like a tub. They had capturedwith him several bags containing all sorts of curious and useful things,and four donkeys. He had blustered and stormed, saying many things in astrange tongue, but De Castro had ordered him to be carried in bonds tothe fortress, to be kept there until the return of the expedition.

  Tom could not help smiling as he thought of Herr Schwab, so full ofconfidence and cheerful assurance, kept a prisoner in the Arabstronghold.

  "And who is your leader?" he asked the man.

  It was Rumaliza himself, he replied. He was an old man, much brokensince his last great fight with the Belgians, but retaining still allhis indomitable spirit. He was actually accompanying the force throughthe forest; for he seemed persuaded that the final crisis of his lifehad come, and he wished to superintend the inevitable fight and matchhis known skill and craft against the white man, who, rumour said, waspitting himself against him. With Rumaliza came his tried lieutenant,Ahmed. Mustapha would probably have come also, but for the failure ofhis ambush against the British force, which had somewhat shaken the oldchief's confidence in him. He had been left in charge of the islandfortress. There were not many men left with him, but an expeditionwhich had been sent out several months before to the north was longoverdue when De Castro's column started, and Rumaliza would probablyleave these men behind to strengthen Mustapha's garrison.

  All this acted like wine upon Tom's spirit. Rumaliza himself, the chiefwhose name was everywhere held in horror as a synonym for cruelty,fraud, cunning, and barbarous valour, was leading his host forth on anenterprise on which he staked all! Tom's imagination was stirred at theprospect of meeting the redoubtable chief, and still more at the news ofthe mysterious island fortress.

  From another prisoner, an Arab of higher rank, he obtained, later in theday, particulars which enabled him to piece together a coherent story ofthe attempted ruse. De Castro had waited and waited for his messengerto return, fuming at his delay, and vowing to teach him a lesson. Atlength a Muiro appeared, who explained that the man was dead, butbrought an offer from the medicine-man to treat. De Castro had goneforward after dark and met Mabruki. This, Tom conjectured, was the timewhen the katikiro had supposed him to be gathering herbs. The prisonerhad himself accompanied the Portuguese to the rendezvous, ten miles fromthe village, and had heard the terms of the compact. Mabruki hadpromised to get rid by a trick of the greater part of the katikiro'sforce. The Portuguese would find it easy then to enter the village.The katikiro would be cut in pieces, after which the white man was to beinveigled back and handed to De Castro. In return for these servicesMabruki was to receive a present of ivory, and to be allowed to makehimself chief in Mwonga's stead, thus getting possession (Tom suppliedthe detail from his own knowledge) of the store of ivory and treasurewhich lay beneath the chief's hut. It was evident t
hat only thekatikiro's after-thought, to send a second messenger into the forest,had foiled the plot.

  There were still two points that puzzled Tom. The first was, why hadnot De Castro gone direct to the village instead of camping within amile of it, three hours before sunset? The Arab explained that his chiefhad acted in the teeth of the advice of his lieutenants. They were allfor proceeding without delay. It was sheer indolence, so characteristicof the Portuguese, and overweening self-confidence, that had determinedDe Castro to rest after his march and enjoy his evening meal in peace,deferring the attack until dawn. The other point was: How had themedicine-man got possession of the paper? The Arab knew nothing aboutthis, Msala was equally in the dark, and Tom resolved to questionMabruki himself and probe the plot to the bottom.

  Having now a pretty clear idea of the course of events, Tom returned tothe village, where the people were holding high festivities in honour ofthe great victory. Tom did not check the mirth of the non-combatants,but he gathered the fighting-men together and told them gravely that thehardest fight of all was still before them. A few minutes after hisreturn Msala came to him boiling with rage.

  "Mabruki is gone!" he said. "While I was away he gathered his basketand bell and piles of charms and fetish-grass, and went away towards thesetting sun. Many men saw him go, but they feared his evil eye and themight of his magic, and none dared to stay him."

  "Well, we are rid of a villain, and I am spared the necessity ofemploying a hangman."

  "A hangman!" cried the indignant katikiro. "I would myself have cut offhis head, though all his devils plagued me for ever after."

  "Msala," said Tom gravely, "that sort of thing will not do. Have I beenwith you so long, and yet you are ignorant of the true way of justice?You will think better of it when your anger has passed away, my friend."

  Msala was silent.

  "Now, we have no time to waste," Tom went on. "We have had a littlerest, and there is the great fight before us in the forest. We musthave the men back from the burning mountain. Mbutu, I will send yourbrother for them. He will go to the volcano and bring back the eighthundred men there. On reaching the village they must rest for a shorttime; then, Msala, you will send six hundred of them on with all speednorthwards, along with two hundred fresh men. The rest will remain withyou to defend the village."

  This having been arranged, soon after twelve o'clock Tom led his men outtowards the north. He had expected a messenger to come in with newsfrom the force he had left in the forest, and he could not but regardhis non-arrival as an indication that the men were at least holdingtheir own. After a march of nearly five hours he reached the largestblock-house, which stood two miles from the edge of the forest. He foundthat, though firing had been heard in the distance, no message had beenreceived from the front, and after his troops had made a rapid meal hehurried on.

  He had not gone far before he heard irregular firing ahead. Hasteninghis pace he soon saw, amid the scrub and thin copses at the extreme edgeof the forest, scattered bodies of men approaching in the direction ofthe block-house. Keen as his eyesight was, he could not distinguishwhether the men were friends or foes, but some of his own troops at onceexclaimed that they were Bahima. The men he had left in the forest wereevidently, then, retreating, but the firing showed that they wereretiring slowly, fighting, as he had commanded them, every inch of theway. He at once made dispositions to prevent a rout, and to give hismen a strong position to retire upon. Sending out a small body ofpicked men to rally the retreating troops, he ordered the seventyspademen he had with him to throw up a rough breastwork behind which themusketeers might take secure aim. The work was only half-completed whenloud shouts, with the boom-boom of trade guns and the sharper crack ofrifles, showed that the Arabs were pressing hard upon the retreatingBahima. Suddenly a larger body of men emerged in confusion from thedense scrub, followed closely by another body evidently in hot pursuit.The retreat would soon have become a rout, for the Bahima wereoutflanked and outnumbered, and the Arabs, assured of victory, werepressing hard upon them, with exultant cries, and the manifestdetermination, as soon as the whole of their force had debouched, tofinish the struggle with a crushing charge. But the opportune arrivalof the small rallying force sent forward by Tom enabled the retreatingtroops to draw off in comparatively good order. The reinforcementsoccupied a small copse on the extreme right of the Arab advance, andfrom this place of vantage they poured in so harassing a fire that theenemy, taken by surprise and fearing a trap, halted, undecided whetherto press forward or retire, in the meantime taking what cover the groundafforded. The few minutes' respite was all that was needed to enableTom to withdraw his discomfited troops behind the breastwork, and whenthe Arabs made up their minds to clear the copse they found it deserted.They then showed some disposition to advance against Tom's mainposition, but, meeting a sharp musketry fire, they changed their mindsand prepared to form a camp, from which Tom concluded that they haddecided to postpone their attack in force until they had surveyed theground and taken a rest.

  It was now past five o'clock, and little more than half an hour ofdaylight was left. The Arabs had had a hard day's work. They had foundthe ford so stoutly defended that a passage at that point wasimpossible, and they had had to march for some miles before they foundanother fordable place, and then to cut their way through dense forest,harassed all along by the persistent Bahima. Thus they were much inneed of rest. To attack by night, moreover, is foreign to all theArab's habits and traditions, and Tom recognized thankfully that he hadthe whole night in which to prepare for the fateful conflict.

  Obviously, with a force so largely outnumbered by the enemy, he couldnot afford to risk a fight in the open. The questions occurred to him:Suppose he took up a strong defensive position, could he tempt the Arabsto attack him directly? was there no danger of their creeping round onhis right and overwhelming the village? The first question he easilyanswered. The Arabs had come purposely to attack him, and all that hehad ever seen or heard about them warranted the belief that they wouldwaste no time in tactics, but would come on in a furious onslaught,trusting to sheer weight of numbers to carry them through. The secondquestion gave him more difficulty; but when he remembered that in orderto reach the village without fighting him the Arabs would have to make adetour of nearly twenty miles, through a country already stripped offood and waterless, with the danger of their rear being harassed all theway, he regarded such a movement as very improbable, and decided thatthe approaching battle would in all likelihood be fought on ground ofhis own choosing.

  He had already marked what seemed to him an ideal spot for such anencounter. Extending for nearly a mile into the plain, there lay, tothe west of the path into the forest, an extensive swamp, fringed withthick reeds, and so much swollen by the recent rains that it was boundto present great difficulty to an advancing enemy. He resolved to formduring the night a strong zariba, resting one side of it upon thisswamp. He ordered his men, therefore, to remove all the ammunition andprovisions from the block-house to the edge of the swamp, and to obtaina good supply of water from a stream running across the plain half amile in his rear, and then to set fire to the block-house, which couldnot be held if seriously attacked, and yet might prove a source ofdanger if left as a means of cover for the enemy. Collecting, then, hiswhole force, he led them to the swamp, and set a large number digging atrench and erecting an earthwork around three sides of a square, eachface being about one-fifth of a mile in length. Another body he orderedto collect mimosa-scrub and cactus from the clumps in the neighbourhood,to plant these in the earthwork, and to weave among them all kinds ofthorn-plants, so as to make a thick hedge, almost impervious to bullets.It was dark before the task was weir begun, but posting a number ofpickets and sentries round his position, to prevent any interference onthe part of the enemy, he got some thirty of his men to light theworkers with torches, which, being seen extended over a large area,would no doubt also serve to give the Arabs an exaggerated notion of hisstrength. Soon a
fter the torches were lit, shouts from the Arab campmore than a mile away apprised him that they had noted his movements,and the beating of drums at first suggested that an attack was imminent;but Mbutu explained that the Arab drummers were merely amusingthemselves by signalling the terrible deeds that were to be done on thefollowing day, and how the Bahima force was to be scattered to the fourwinds.

  Tom merely smiled, and pressed on the work, allowing his men shortspells of rest, until about eleven o'clock, by which time the zariba wascomplete. He would have liked to protect his position still further, bymeans of pointed stakes planted all round it, driven deep into theground, and projecting only four inches above the surface. In thehalf-light, when he expected the attack to be made, these would beinvisible to the enemy. But, walking round in the moonlight among hismen, he saw that their work on the entrenchments had told heavily uponthose he had brought from the village, while those who had been fightingall day in the forest were obviously incapable of further exertion. Itwas absolutely essential that they should regain their strength andfreshness for the morrow's combat. He therefore contented himself withprotecting only the two exposed corners of the zariba, knowing thatthese are always the most vulnerable points, and the first to beattacked.

  Soon after eleven he turned in himself for a short nap, taking everyprecaution against surprise by posting pickets and maintaining a regularseries of patrols, of which Mwonda was left in charge. At two he was upagain, going the round of the sentries, and he ordered Mwonda to getwhat sleep he could before dawn. He had expected that by this time theeight hundred men from the village would have joined him, but when atthree o'clock there was still no sign of them he called Mbutu to him.

  "You must go and hurry on the advance of those eight hundred men," hesaid. "We have tremendous odds against us, and it may make all thedifference in the world to have those men. If, when you return, youfind us fighting, take them round the swamp and fall on the rear of theenemy. I depend on you, Mbutu."

  Tom had spoken in Mbutu's own tongue, and was somewhat surprised to missthe bright eager look with which the boy usually received his commands.Mbutu's face was expressionless, and he made no remark.

  "What is it, Mbutu? You are not afraid?"

  "I am not afraid. I am never afraid."

  "Tell me, then, why you look so strangely solemn?"

  Mbutu was silent for a few seconds. Then he said:

  "I vowed never to leave you, master, to stay always by your side, to beyour right arm. You send me from you; I obey. But if any harm comes toyou, if a spear pierces you, or a bullet plunges into your flesh, Ishall not be there. It is not well, master."

  Tom was touched by the boy's devotion.

  "I am proud of you, Mbutu," he said. "It is because I trust you that Igive this task to you. Do not fear for me; you will do me the bestservice by leading the eight hundred faithfully to my support. It is mycommand, Mbutu."

  "I will do as you say, master," said Mbutu, and hastened away.

  Tom employed the two hours before dawn in still further strengtheninghis position. He got his men to throw up a semicircular entrenchmentinside the zariba and resting on the swamp, as a protection for hisreserve. Near the middle of this was a boulder from which he couldsurvey the whole battlefield. For the safe-keeping of his ammunitionand hand-grenades he directed his men to make a number of bullet-proofshelters--holes about a yard deep, dug near the earthwork, roofed withwood, and covered with the earth excavated. These shelters were ampleprotection except against powerful artillery, which Tom knew that theArabs did rot possess, and he was no longer in any anxiety lest anunlucky shot should explode his reserve ammunition.

  At one point on each face of the zariba he so arranged the screen ofmimosa and cactus that it formed a rough gateway opening outwards, thusallowing, if opportunity should arise, of a rapid sally by thedefenders. On the northern and southern faces the gateways were at theextremity resting on the swamp; on the third face the opening was at thesouth-east corner, clear of the stakes.

  While a small force of workers was carrying out these operations, Tomsat down to take a final cool review of the whole situation. His ownadvantages were: a strong position, ample supplies of food and water, acertain number of disciplined troops, and some novelty of armament inthe shape of pikes and hand-grenades. On the other hand, he was weakerin numbers than the Arabs, and was not nearly so well equipped withfirearms. They, on their side, had the larger force and the betterweapons, but these advantages were to some extent counterbalanced by thedefects of their strategical position. They were bound to attack, fortheir supplies were limited. They could only safely obtain water from astream five miles in their rear; while in regard to food, the wholeregion for a hundred miles was so sparsely peopled, and had been sothoroughly scoured during their advance, that it could not now maintaina tithe of their number for a week. To assault the village would be, ashe had already decided, to court disaster, and after their previousexperience, they must themselves feel that they had very little chanceof capturing it with a rush. It was quite possible--indeed, more thanprobable--that they had already heard of the crushing blow suffered byDe Castro. Many of the fugitives from his force had no doubt soughtsafety in the forest until their friends came in sight, and then hadjoined them. Tom thought it not unlikely that De Castro himself was inthe neighbourhood, and he at any rate would stimulate the Arabs toattack, and seize what opportunity there might be of crushing theirenemy at a single blow. Weighing all these points, Tom saw that a taskof great difficulty and tremendous import lay before him, but he did notquail; his courage and determination rose to meet the manifest danger,and it was with a feeling of confidence, a consciousness that everyfaculty was nerved to the encounter, that he quietly, about fiveo'clock, gave the order for the camp to be aroused.

  "Breakfast!" he said, for he well knew the fighting value of a goodsquare meal. The natives were wildly excited, and no amount ofdiscipline would suffice to make them hold their tongues. All the timethat the food was being prepared, and throughout the meal, their tonguesclacked and chattered with unchecked volubility. Soon responsive soundscame from the Arab camp, and the drummers on both sides started atempestuous duel of threats and malediction. Tom, however, put a stopto this on his side, and when the meal was finished he collected themen, and in a few quiet and earnest words impressed upon them thegravity and moment of the impending conflict. Then he ordered them totheir posts.

  On each of the three exposed sides of the zariba he placed a front rankof musketeers and a rear rank of pikemen, the double line accounting fortwo thousand seven hundred men. The six hundred trade guns and riflescaptured from De Castro's force had been distributed among the allies.These included a fair percentage of hunters who knew how to usefirearms, although only one in a hundred was the happy possessor of aflint-lock. At each of the corners of the zariba Tom posted fiftyadditional pikemen, forming thus a double line. The pikemen weresupplied with three hand-grenades apiece. The remainder of the force,consisting of four hundred picked men, was stationed in reserve withinthe inner entrenchment, ready to be thrown towards any threatened point.This reserve was under the command of Mwonda. Tom himself took up hisposition on the boulder, whence he looked through the gray dawn towardsthe Arab camp.

  It was a cold morning, and a thin mist lay clammy over the plain,wrapping the scattered bushes and trees in a fleecy garment of white.The scouts whom Tom sent out soon vanished, but a breeze was springingup, and pale streaks of light struggled through the haze. Half an hourwent by, a period of anxious expectancy. The noises from the Arab campwere hushed, and Tom's three thousand men stood to their arms, andstrained eyes and ears towards the enemy. The mist was rolling towardsthe swamp, and suddenly, as it were behind it, two of the scoutsreappeared, with the news that the enemy was on the move. Soonafterwards shots were heard, the remaining scouts came hastening back,and in the distance, dimly through the wisps of vapour, appeared theArab host, a compact mass, moving directly and rapidly to
wards thenorth-east corner of the zariba. It advanced in dead silence. Thezariba was still partially curtained by mist; but the Arabs could nothave expected to surprise the camp, for the shots fired by the scouts asthey were driven in must have shown that Tom's troops were on the alert.From his post of observation on the boulder Tom saw that behind the mainbody, which he judged roughly to be about four thousand strong, asmaller body was advancing at an interval of a hundred and fifty yards.A few white burnouses were dotted among the serried mass of Manyema inthe van, but the reserve force was Arab throughout.

  The light was growing, and the mist hanging over the zariba wasgradually rolled by the breeze back on to the swamp. Shouts arose fromthe foremost ranks of the Manyema as they saw their enemy, who respondedwith a bellowing roar. On came the hostile host, and Tom marked everyfoot of their progress, ready at the right moment to give the word tohis eager troops. The Manyema would charge, he knew; he made up hismind that the force of their charge must be broken ere they came toonear, so that they might have less energy for hand-to-hand fighting.The effective range of his muskets was no more than three hundred yards,but he had a few Winchesters, captured after the siege and in the routof De Castro's force. When the enemy was within about a third of a mileof the zariba, Tom ordered twenty picked riflemen to open fire. A sharpvolley rang across the plain; several men in the front ranks of theManyema dropped, and there was an instant reply.

  "Down, men!" shouted Tom, immediately after his men had fired. Not ahead was visible above the parapet, and the enemy's scattered volleypassed harmlessly over the camp. Many of the bullets, indeed, werenearly spent when they struck the earthwork; and Tom concluded that thebest-armed among the Arabs were certainly not in the van.

  He threw a hasty glance at the Arab reserve, now about half a mile away.It was advancing leisurely to the support of the main force, as thoughthe leader expected the zariba to be carried easily at the first shockof the huge mass. Only two faces of the zariba were threatened, andTom, seeing that there was no immediate danger of an attack from thesouth, ordered the musketeers on that face to issue from their gatewayand post themselves behind the stakes at the corner, whence they couldbring a flanking fire to bear on the dense crowd approaching. At thesame time he moved the pikemen-grenadiers on this face to the easternfront, to assist in meeting the expected rush, and ordered part of hisreserve to sally out by the north gate, and, lining the edge of theswamp, to threaten the flank of the attack.

  Rapidly as these movements were carried out, they were barely completedwhen the Manyema broke into a run, and with fierce exultant yells surgedforward, firing as they came. Their fire was wild and unsteady, whileTom's riflemen, taking careful aim from their position behind theearthwork, did much execution among them. The remainder of themusketeers, stooping behind their shelter, eagerly expected the order tofire, but Tom stood silent and watchful, waiting until the enemy werewell within range. Even in that tense moment he felt proud of his men'sself-restraint. Then, when the shouting negroes were within two hundredyards of the zariba, the long-awaited order was given. A sheet of flameburst from the two sides of the zariba on which the attack was directed.There were many gaps in the advancing ranks, but so dense was the throngthat these were instantly filled up, and the Manyema came on like aswiftly-moving wall. There was no time for Tom's musketeers to reload.At fifty yards he gave the word to his grenadiers, who were stooping,match in hand, their eyes fixed on his face, their limbs strained likesprings. At the command, three hundred grenades were hurled into theseething mass, and amid the deafening clatter of the explosions thegrenadiers seized their pikes and stood close to stem the advancingtorrent. Yelling with fury, the horde swept forward. Standing grim athis post, Tom wondered whether anything could resist the impendingshock, and glanced with a momentary anxiety at his embattled ranks. Butthere he saw no sign of flinching, nothing but gleaming eyes, and handsclenched firmly about their weapons.

  Suddenly the centre of the enemy's line came upon the row of stakes atthe north-eastern corner of the zariba, so cunningly planted that intheir impetuous rush the Manyema failed wholly to perceive them. Theadvancing wave broke like surf upon the shore; the onrushing force splitinto two sections, with a confused heap in the centre, stumblinghelplessly over the sharp points, screaming with pain, yet pushed on bytheir comrades behind, these in their turn to fall upon the stakes. Asthey struggled there, a heavy fire broke from the musketeers who, pushedout from the southern face, had just taken up their position behind thestakes at their corner. A moment later an answering volley came from theranks of the reserve thrown out on the north side. Bullets fell thickamong the maddened heap. Five hundred yards away the Arab leaderrecognized that his main body was in imminent danger of rout, andhurried forward a portion of his reserve. But it was too late. Hisriflemen could not fire without doing more damage among their ownfriends than among the Bahima. Before they had covered half the distanceseparating them from the zariba, the vanguard was in full flight,rushing pell-mell from the withering rifle-fire, bursting into the ranksof the reserve, and sweeping them away in their mad dash for safety.Fierce yells followed them; the musketeers behind the earthwork had hadtime to reload, and, leaping up, poured a volley into the retreatingranks. Some of the pikemen were preparing to fling themselves over thefence in pursuit, but a curt word from Kuboko fixed them to their posts.Tom saw, a quarter of a mile away, some fifteen hundred well-armed men,the flower of the Arab force, and recognized that before he could gethis own troops clear of the zariba the broken ranks of his enemy mightre-form and return with the supporting force to outflank and crush theBahima, by superior numbers, to say nothing of superior armament, whichin the open would tell much more in the enemy's favour. He thereforechecked the incipient pursuit, and ordered the troops he had thrown outon each flank to return within the shelter of the zariba.

  It had been a breathless moment. Not a quarter of an hour had elapsedsince the advancing tide had rolled towards him in the full confidenceof victory, and now it had rolled back again, leaving four hundredstrewn over the field.

  "Well done, my men!" cried Tom, and a great shout rose from his exultanttroops. Their loss had been but slight. Tom ordered the wounded to beattended to, and allowed the panting warriors to drink their fill ofwater.

  He was under no illusions upon the situation. The first attack, animpetuous rush _en masse_, had been repelled; but he knew that he wasnot dealing with mere savages, or even with Arabs of the Soudan, butwith experienced warriors who had borne the brunt of many a fight, andwho had every motive for nerving themselves for a second and moreformidable onslaught. It was now broad daylight; the sun lay large andred upon the horizon. In the distance Tom descried the Arab campoccupied only by a horde of slave carriers; between them and him was thebaffled enemy, and he saw the Arab leaders slashing at their retreatingtroops, and adjuring them with vehement cries to rally and stand firm.The conflict was evidently still to come, and Tom was glad of thebreathing-space to allow his men to rest, and to enable himself to makepreparations for meeting an attack which he knew would strain the powersof his force to the uttermost.

  The exertions of the Arab leaders had checked the rout among their men,who were gradually rallying and forming up on either side of thereserve. There was an interval, and then Tom saw emerging from thehostile force three tall figures, two of them wearing turbans and longwhite robes, the third a gigantic negro, taller even than Mwonda. Tomlooked anxiously at the other two as they approached, no doubt to seefor themselves the position which had so unexpectedly disconcerted theirmen. They drew nearer.

  "That is Ahmed, I suppose," said Tom to himself. "Who is his companion,I wonder? Can it be the hakim?"

  But no; the figure was that of an older and a taller man than the hakim,a venerable figure with long white beard reaching almost to his waist.He was slightly bent, and walked with the tottering steps of an old andfeeble man. "Rumaliza!" ejaculated Tom; "it must be Rumaliza himself,the old chief who has deluged Central
Africa with blood. He comesbreathing out threatening and slaughter. He means to direct the fight;he does me honour."

  The three figures still advanced. They were now within musket shot.

  "Impudent, not to say foolhardy," thought Tom. "I can't allow them tocome any nearer."

  He called up half a dozen of his sharp-shooters and bade them open fire.Six bullets sped across the earthwork; next instant Ahmed staggered, andwas supported out of range by his companions.

  "There's no want of courage, at any rate," thought Tom. "The realbusiness is only just beginning."

  When the three intrepid leaders had regained their lines, about athousand men advanced in skirmishing order towards the zariba, takingadvantage of what slight cover was afforded by the inequalities of theground and the little scrub which Tom's men had not removed. Haltingout of range of Tom's muskets, though not of his few Winchesters, theyopened a brisk fire on the zariba. A moment's observation sufficed toshow Tom that he was outranged; he therefore made no attempt to reply tothe fire, but ordered his men to lie close, withdrew them from the northand south faces, where they were exposed to the cross-fire over theearthwork, and set a number of spademen to dig a shelter trench andembankment parallel to the northern and southern faces of the zariba.Beginning under the eastern face, the men were in great measureprotected from the enemy's bullets, and though every now and then a manwas hit, the new defences were completed with surprisingly littledamage.

  The Zariba and its defences at the moment of the 2nd.Arab attack.]

  The firing went on more or less fitfully for nearly an hour, and Tomcould see that his persistent refusal to reply caused first surprise andthen anger among the Arabs. A general movement began on their part.Some fifteen hundred men detached themselves from the main body andmarched northwards; a similar body, not quite so numerous, moved to thesouth; and Tom instantly concluded that a combined attack was to be madesimultaneously on each face of the zariba. Taking advantage of somescrub, the northern party was able to advance safely to within twohundred yards of the earthwork, while the southern force in the openhalted at a rather greater distance, out of range of all but theWinchesters. Owing to lack of ammunition for these, Tom was unable totouch the enemy, and had perforce to await developments. As soon as theflanking forces had taken up their positions, a compact body of fivehundred Arabs advanced to join the skirmishers in his immediate front,and the whole force there, some fifteen hundred men in all, formed up infour ranks over a frontage of about two hundred and fifty yards. Of thewhole Arab host only five hundred men remained in the rear, stationed ona knoll selected as their head-quarters during the fight. Among theseRumaliza and Ahmed were conspicuous.

  Tom, watching every move of the enemy with lynx-eyed keenness,imperturbably gave his orders. He recognized that it was this time tobe a hand-to-hand struggle, with all the odds against him. He dividedhis reserve into three portions; one, under Mwonda's command, toreinforce any point threatened on the northern face; the second, underthe kasegara, to watch the southern face; and the third, under his owndirection, to stand in readiness to lend any assistance required at theeastern face. He cast his eye round the position; the men stood totheir arms, expectant, eager, confident; there was not a sign oftimidity or cowardice.

  From the knoll, five hundred yards away, came the roll of a drum.Raising their weapons aloft and uttering a fierce war-cry, the threedivisions of Arabs and Manyema sprang forward at the same moment uponthe three sides of the zariba. The lesson taught by their former mishaphad been well learned; this time they avoided the stakes at the corners,and charged in directions perpendicular to the three fronts. For thefirst hundred and fifty yards they fired as they came, and though, whenwell within range, they were met by a murderous discharge of bullets andgrenades from the earthwork, they pressed on regardless of their manycasualties, and within half a minute had reached the thorn-protectedzariba.

  Then began a desperate and mortal struggle. With the exception of thereserve, still held by Tom as in a leash within the inner entrenchment,every man was at grips with the enemy. Firearms were useless. It waspike and bayonet against scimitar, clubbed musket, and spear. So fiercewas the onset that in many places the thorn hedge was cut or torn down,and through the gaps a wild horde of black and turbaned warriorsstruggled to force a way. The defenders had lost heavily during theenemy's advance, and Tom's anxious eye had noted many weak spots in thedouble rank of musketeers and pikemen. He himself stood in the middleof the square, to outward appearance impassive, the target forsnap-shots still fired, when opportunity offered, by the assailants. Ahalf-spent bullet struck him on the left forearm, inflicting a slightwound which he hardly felt. He mechanically took off his turban andhanded it to one of his men to bind tightly about the arm, all the timehaving his eyes fixed on the thin line of troops fighting gallantlyagainst such desperate odds. No detail of the fight escaped him. On thenorthern face the enemy were making but little headway; their forcethere consisted mainly of Manyema, and as yet the screen of mimosa andcactus was almost intact. But on the eastern face, where tall Arabswere led by the gigantic negro, the strength of the garrison was taxedto the uttermost. Most of the Arabs were attacking with scimitar intheir right hand and clubbed musket in their left. At first theBahima's long pikes, thrust out through interstices in the fence, weretoo much for them, but as the combat progressed they instinctivelyadapted their method of fighting to the new conditions. Approachingjust out of reach of the pikes, they tempted the pikemen to lunge, andthen with a sharp stroke of their keen blades either severed the headfrom the shaft or so weakened it as to render it useless. Tom saw thetrick, and was about to give instructions how to meet it when he wasdelighted to perceive that his men, after one or two of them had beencaught, had themselves seen how to avoid the danger by shortening theirlunge. Even when the heads of their pikes were knocked off, however,they still made good use of the shafts, bringing them down withtremendous force upon the heads and bodies of all who came within reach.

  Tom in the Breach]

  So far, though the Arabs fought like tigers, they had been kept outsidethe wall of the zariba. But suddenly, at the eastern face, a portion ofthe fencing collapsed as though it were made of paper. Through the gapinstantly poured a gang of yelling Arabs headed by the negro captain,before whose huge two-handed sword pikemen and musketeers went over likegrass before the mower.

  "Bahima, with me!" shouted Tom, springing from his boulder, and dashingforward at the head of his reserve company to stem the torrent. He sawthat there was not a moment to lose; if the breach was not instantlydammed the invading horde would carry all before them and sweep thegarrison into the swamp.

  Among the nine thousand men on that stricken field, Tom alone had, untilthis moment, been unarmed; but stooping now as he ran, he snatched fromthe ground the weapon of a dead musketeer, just in time to parry asweeping stroke of the negro captain that fell upon his musket and cleftthe wood to the barrel. He saw the look of exultation in the negro'sfierce eyes, but the force of the blow caused the assailant to recoil;before he could recover, Tom was in under his guard and with the butt ofthe musket struck him square between the eyes. No skull but a negro'scould have survived the force of the blow; he did not fall, but halted,dazed. His arm hung for a brief moment helpless at his side, and thenTom, dropping his broken musket, dealt him a body blow with the barefist which from school experience he knew must be conclusive. The negroswayed, reeled, and dropped like a log; Tom was swept on over hisprostrate body and saw him no more. The fight had occupied but a fewseconds. Tom's men had thrown themselves furiously upon theiropponents; the Arabs, missing the inspiriting presence and voice oftheir gigantic leader, faltered; in a few seconds more they wereoverpowered, and now tried to regain the outside of the square.

  "Guard the gap, my men!" cried Tom, and seeing that there was noimmediate danger of another irruption in this quarter he extricatedhimself from the melee, and made his way towards his post of observationto see how the fight wa
s going elsewhere. Before he reached the centrehe knew that the whole of his reserve was now engaged. Two breaks hadbeen made on the southern face and one on the northern, and a small bandof Manyema was threatening the flank of the defence by wading some yardsinto the swamp. On the south, as Tom knew by soundings that he hadtaken, the ooze was so deep that any man venturing into it wouldspeedily be sucked down and submerged, but on the north there was afordable though difficult approach, and it was important to repel thisattack once for all. Calling, therefore, a few of his best musketeers,he stationed them at the north-western corner, and assured himself thatby keeping up a steady fire there they could prevent a dangerous assaultin that quarter.

  Turning again, he saw, with a pang, that his force had already sufferedvery heavily. On every face of the zariba the ground was strewn withprone bodies, and it was a harrowing thought that, in the heat of thefight, nothing could be done for the wounded men, whose groans mingledwith the yells of the combatants.

  "Where is Mbutu?" was the unspoken question that ever and anon formeditself in Tom's mind. It was past nine o'clock; there had been ampletime, surely, for the eight hundred men to arrive from the village, andTom more than once looked anxiously towards the forest in the hope ofseeing Mbutu appear with the reinforcements so urgently needed. Would henever come? On the knoll the five hundred Arabs were still held inreserve; so confused had been the contest hitherto that it must havebeen impossible for the Arab leaders to form a just idea as to how thefight was going; but they had seen at any rate that their men had notyet been driven away; and if they threw their reserve into the scale, asthey might do at any moment, Tom felt that it would be impossible tomaintain his ground.

  But though he was anxious he was not yet dismayed. He saw that his men,fighting with unquenchable ardour, were slowly getting the better oftheir assailants. Several times he was moved to utter cries ofcommendation and encouragement as he witnessed some skilful feat ofarms. Mwonda was bearing his huge bulk resistless into the thick of thefight, and largely by his individual prowess and contagious recklessnessthe enemy were at last driven off pell-mell at all points. But whilesome ran to a safe distance and threw themselves exhausted on theground, others clung tenaciously to their position outside the zariba,deriving almost as much protection from the earthwork as the garrisoninside. For some minutes there was a strange lull, like that whichoccasionally interrupts the fiercest hurricane. The war-cries werehushed; the clash of arms was stilled; nothing could be heard but themoans of the wounded. Both sides were gathering strength for a renewedstruggle. The sun was rising hot in the heavens, and Tom's men in theglare and heat were too much fatigued even to reload their muskets. Tomallowed them to go in small batches to the water-pitchers, where theygulped down a few mouthfuls, then returned to their posts. The enemyall the time were exposed to the fierce pangs of unassuageable thirst,and many lay panting on the ground, while some crept away to the extremeedge of the swamp, and lapped up the foul scum-cloaked death-dealingwater there.

  "Will Mbutu never come?" was Tom's unuttered cry.

  The restful interval was not of long duration. Tom, whose attentionnever flagged, noted a movement on the knoll. He saw the gaunt figureof the veteran leader stand before his men, draw his sword from itsscabbard, and wave it above his head, while the gestures of his otherhand showed that he was addressing the warriors in a fervid harangue.These were doubtless the flower of his army. With the insight born oflong experience he had recognized that a supreme effort was necessary toturn the scale, and he was resolved to play his last card.

  "Bahima and Bairo and all you my brothers," said Tom, "the greatRumaliza himself is preparing to come against us. You have done well;you have fought valiantly, and fulfilled my highest hopes; but now stillmore is required of you. Play the man, my brothers. The great chief whohas enslaved your people for so many years must not escape. Every manof you must fight like three men this day; every man of you must saywithin himself: 'Rumaliza shall not return to his stronghold, nor takeslaves any more for ever.' He is advancing now, my brothers; be strong,be strong and brave!"

  Kuboko's bold words infused fresh spirit into his men. They sprang totheir places; the musketeers reloaded their weapons, and every man ofthem, for all his weariness, stood with a grim look of obstinateresolution. Away on the plain Rumaliza had put himself at the head ofhis men; Ahmed was at his side. They marched slowly to within a hundredand fifty yards of the eastern face of the zariba, and were receivedwith an irregular volley from the musketeers. Even Tom's stout heartsank for an instant as he saw that the desperate fighting of the pasttwo hours had rendered his men's aim so unsteady that, though theadvancing mass offered an easy mark, there were now but few casualtiesin their ranks. The Arabs shouted as they too observed this fact; theyhalted, and summoned to them the men who still clung to the earthwork,along with those who had scattered after their repulse. Already Tom hadseen what was impending. He massed the whole of his reserve on theeastern face, placing the hardiest and least-wearied men alternatelywith the others so as to equalize the strength of the fighting line. Hewas himself pale with anxiety; his whole body seemed to him a bundle oftingling nerves; and as he contrasted his worn-out troops with the freshand buoyant Arabs advancing, their unstained swords and spears gleamingin the sunlight, he prayed that Mbutu with the missing eight hundredmight still come in time to redress the balance. He had so often lookedin vain towards the forest that he was scarcely disappointed when,turning in that direction for the last time before the impending shock,he saw no sign of aid. And now with shouts of "Allah-il-Allah!" theArabs came forward at the charge, Rumaliza himself, whom the breath ofbattle seemed to have infused with the vigour of youth, maintaining hisplace unfalteringly at the head of his men for many yards until he wasdistanced by them. It was a matter of seconds. Then, as Tom turned hishead finally from the forest whence no help came, with the sterndetermination to hold out till the last gasp, his eye caught a glint oflight little more than half a mile distant. It was just above the swampitself. His heart leapt, his eye gleamed with hope. A secondinstantaneous glance showed him that it was the sunlight reflected froma spear-head; dropping his gaze, he descried a number of small darkobjects moving on the very surface of the swamp--the heads of a band ofmen wading almost breast-deep in the ooze. There were no turbans, nowhite garments; they were coming from the north-west; surely they mustbe no other than the long-expected eight hundred! A glad cry brokespontaneously from Tom's lips; despondency went to the winds; and atthat instant the onrushing force of the enemy fell like a thunderboltupon the staggering parapet. Slashing, hacking, hewing, the fierce-eyedArabs surged into the gaps made in the last attack. An almost audibleshudder passed through the ranks of the defenders as they bracedthemselves for the last dread struggle. Not a man blenched; they allknew that they could expect no quarter; and Tom, looking at them, feltthat with the battle fever in their veins they would dare all.

  "Mbutu is with us!" he shouted, knowing that the news would act upontheir spirits as a tonic.

  The Arabs, with Ahmed, wounded as he was, at their head, were cuttingtheir way steadily through the gaps, enlarging them as they did so, andpressing the defenders backwards by sheer weight of numbers. Behindthem Rumaliza raised his shrill voice in encouragement. Every now andthen a desperate rally regained a few yards for the garrison, but theywere unable to maintain their advantage, and Tom began to dread lest allshould be over before Mbutu could arrive. Standing in the centre of thesquare he felt like the man in the iron room of old fable, with a wallapproaching inch by inch to crush him. His last hope rested on the menhe had placed at the corners of the zariba. Protected from externalassault by the stakes, they had faced inwards at his order, and takenthe encroaching Arabs in flank. But Tom saw that they were too few todelay the invaders for more than a minute or two. Could Mbutu arrive intime? Fierce shouts rent the air all around him; the heavy clash ofweapons, the flash of scimitars in the hot sunbeams, the gleaming eyesand distorted fe
atures, the pants and cries of the warriors, the shrieksof the wounded, made up a terrible scene that well-nigh broke down hisnerve. Arabs were still springing into the zariba; the Bahima wereengaged on every face, fighting an unequal fight, doing manfully, butreceding foot by foot, inch by inch. Tom felt that he must throwhimself into the fray. He sprang from his boulder; seizing a bayonetedmusket, he leapt to the side of Mwonda as he smote thick and fast uponthe serried mass, and shoulder to shoulder with him tried desperately tobeat back the overwhelming tide.

  Suddenly a tremendous shout rang out to the north. Tom, at that momentbeset by three Arabs, thrilled with relief as he recognized the familiarbattle-cry of the Bahima. Unperceived by the enemy, Mbutu and his eighthundred had waded through the swamp, formed up, a shivering miry crowd,under cover of the thick growth of rushes fringing the swamp, and dartedout upon the rear of the Manyema attacking the northern face of thezariba. Taken completely by surprise, the bewildered negroes turnedabout, were seized with panic, and without a thought of resistance brokeand fled, Mbutu's men pouring after them with jubilant shouts, andtaking with their long spears a terrible toll of the fugitives. Thepressure in front of Tom was immediately eased, for without knowingexactly what had happened the whole Arab force seemed to have becomeaware that the tide was turning. But Rumaliza behind his men lifted hisquavering yet penetrating voice in adjuration, and the throngimmediately about him threw themselves again into the fray. Tom wouldgladly have recalled Mbutu's troops to take the main Arab force inflank, but, intoxicated with their success, they were streaming away tothe north-east after the fleeing enemy. It was not an opportunity to belost, however, and Tom seized the moment by the forelock. He saw thatthe defenders of the northern face, finding themselves suddenly withoutan enemy, were hesitating what to do. Ordering Mwonda to continue hisexertions with even double energy--an appeal to which the weary Titannobly responded--Tom instructed the commander of the northern line tobring his pikemen to the support of the eastern contingent. Then,gathering about him the panting musketeers who remained on this side ofthe square, Tom led them out rapidly by the northern gate towards theright rear of the Arab main body. This movement, being covered by thewall of the zariba, was not perceived by the Arabs until the sallyingparty, skirting the stakes, emerged into the open. Of the four hundredand fifty musketeers who had originally been posted at the northern faceless than three hundred remained to follow Kuboko, but comingunexpectedly on the Arabs' flank and rear they were more than sufficientto throw consternation into their ranks. Too late Ahmed saw the perilthreatening him. His men were already disheartened by the suddenstrengthening of the resistance in their front, due to the reinforcementof pikemen; they had been startled by the joyous shouts of Mbutu's men,informing them that in that quarter the fight was going against them.Before Ahmed could make any disposition to meet the new attack, theexultant Bahima, flushed with the anticipation and assurance of victory,flung themselves with a fierce yell upon the Arab right. At once itcrumbled to pieces; there was a general _sauve-qui-peut_. Away into theopen plain swarmed Arabs and Manyema; arms, ammunition, everything thatmight impede their flight was flung away by the panic-stricken mob.Away and away, heedless of direction, trampling on fallen men, stumblingover obstacles, on they sped, some dropping and dying of exhaustion andfright, others flinging themselves on the ground and whining for mercyas the pursuers overtook them.

  "Thank God!" murmured Tom, as he stood still a few yards from thezariba. "The fight is won."

  There was no need to order his captains to continue the pursuit; theywere leading on their men with fresh ardour, and would not return untilthey had thoroughly dispersed the remnant of the hostile force.Thankful to the bottom of his heart, yet pitying the wretches who layall around him, Tom returned with a few men to the zariba to do whatcould be done for the wounded. The square presented a terrible sight--asight that Tom could not banish from his memory for many a long day.The ground was strewn thick with the bodies of the slain. More thanfive hundred of his own men had fallen, and at least twice as many ofthe enemy. As he surveyed the scene, and set some of his men, tired asthey were, to tend the wounded, friend and foe alike, only one thoughtconsoled him for the suffering and the loss of life that day's work hadentailed. "It is a retribution and a promise," he said to himself;"retribution on the Arabs for the years and years of untold misery theyhave inflicted on the people, and a promise of long years of freedom andpeaceful industry. It is worth the price."

  While the men fulfilled his orders he mounted his boulder once more, andlooked across the field. Away in front, on the knoll whence they hadstarted on their last fatal charge, a band of some twenty turbanedwarriors had taken up their position, and in a roughly-formed squarestood at bay, to defend their aged chief. All around them surged athrong of Bahima, among whom Mwonda was conspicuous. The Arabs werearmed with rifles, and as they grouped themselves closely about Rumalizathey did deadly execution among the assailants. But the cordon wasgradually closing around them. Calling one of his men, Tom despatchedhim with a message to Mwonda.

  "Spare all who surrender," he said.

  The man hastened on his mission. He delivered the message. Mwonda, withinstant obedience at which Tom rejoiced, ordered his men to halt, and ina loud voice, audible at the zariba, called on the Arab chief tosurrender. The only answer was a rifle-shot that killed the man byMwonda's side. With a yell of rage the giant sprang forward at the headof his men. He had obeyed Kuboko; his duty was done; the Arabs gave noquarter, nor should they receive any. Rushing on, heedless of bullets,heedless of the men dropping around him, he forced his way up the knoll,his men pressing on knee to knee. They reached the top; there was ashort hand-to-hand fight; then, bursting through the devoted body-guardthat encircled the gaunt figure of the chief, Mwonda swung the hugetwo-handed sword he had taken from the prostrate negro captain earlierin the day, and with one blow cleft Rumaliza to the chine.

  Then Mwonda lifted his wet sword towards the sun and shouted; andinstantly, from hundreds of voices over that reeking field, rose a vastecho of his cry:

  "RUMALIZA IS DEAD!"