There were many gaps in the advancing ranks, but so dense was the throng that these were instantly filled up, and the Manyema came on like a swiftly-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 like springs. At the command, three hundred grenades were hurled into the seething ma.s.s, and amid the deafening clatter of the explosions the grenadiers seized their pikes and stood close to stem the advancing torrent. Yelling with fury, the horde swept forward. Standing grim at his post, Tom wondered whether anything could resist the impending shock, and glanced with a momentary anxiety at his embattled ranks. But there he saw no sign of flinching, nothing but gleaming eyes, and hands clenched firmly about their weapons.

Suddenly the centre of the enemy's line came upon the row of stakes at the north-eastern corner of the zariba, so cunningly planted that in their impetuous rush the Manyema failed wholly to perceive them. The advancing wave broke like surf upon the sh.o.r.e; the onrushing force split into two sections, with a confused heap in the centre, stumbling helplessly over the sharp points, screaming with pain, yet pushed on by their comrades behind, these in their turn to fall upon the stakes. As they struggled there, a heavy fire broke from the musketeers who, pushed out from the southern face, had just taken up their position behind the stakes at their corner. A moment later an answering volley came from the ranks of the reserve thrown out on the north side. Bullets fell thick among the maddened heap. Five hundred yards away the Arab leader recognized that his main body was in imminent danger of rout, and hurried forward a portion of his reserve. But it was too late. His riflemen could not fire without doing more damage among their own friends than among the Bahima. Before they had covered half the distance separating them from the zariba, the vanguard was in full flight, rushing pell-mell from the withering rifle-fire, bursting into the ranks of the reserve, and sweeping them away in their mad dash for safety.

Fierce yells followed them; the musketeers behind the earthwork had had time to reload, and, leaping up, poured a volley into the retreating ranks. Some of the pikemen were preparing to fling themselves over the fence 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 get his own troops clear of the zariba the broken ranks of his enemy might re-form and return with the supporting force to outflank and crush the Bahima, by superior numbers, to say nothing of superior armament, which in the open would tell much more in the enemy's favour. He therefore checked the incipient pursuit, and ordered the troops he had thrown out on each flank to return within the shelter of the zariba.

It had been a breathless moment. Not a quarter of an hour had elapsed since the advancing tide had rolled towards him in the full confidence of victory, and now it had rolled back again, leaving four hundred strewn over the field.

"Well done, my men!" cried Tom, and a great shout rose from his exultant troops. Their loss had been but slight. Tom ordered the wounded to be attended to, and allowed the panting warriors to drink their fill of water.

He was under no illusions upon the situation. The first attack, an impetuous rush _en ma.s.se_, had been repelled; but he knew that he was not dealing with mere savages, or even with Arabs of the Soudan, but with experienced warriors who had borne the brunt of many a fight, and who had every motive for nerving themselves for a second and more formidable onslaught. It was now broad daylight; the sun lay large and red upon the horizon. In the distance Tom descried the Arab camp occupied only by a horde of slave carriers; between them and him was the baffled enemy, and he saw the Arab leaders slashing at their retreating troops, and adjuring them with vehement cries to rally and stand firm.

The conflict was evidently still to come, and Tom was glad of the breathing-s.p.a.ce to allow his men to rest, and to enable himself to make preparations for meeting an attack which he knew would strain the powers of 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 the reserve. There was an interval, and then Tom saw emerging from the hostile force three tall figures, two of them wearing turbans and long white robes, the third a gigantic negro, taller even than Mwonda. Tom looked anxiously at the other two as they approached, no doubt to see for themselves the position which had so unexpectedly disconcerted their men. 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 and feeble man. "Rumaliza!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Tom; "it must be Rumaliza himself, the old chief who has deluged Central Africa with blood. He comes breathing 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 to come 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, and was supported out of range by his companions.

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

When the three intrepid leaders had regained their lines, about a thousand men advanced in skirmishing order towards the zariba, taking advantage of what slight cover was afforded by the inequalities of the ground and the little scrub which Tom's men had not removed. Halting out of range of Tom's muskets, though not of his few Winchesters, they opened a brisk fire on the zariba. A moment's observation sufficed to show Tom that he was outranged; he therefore made no attempt to reply to the fire, but ordered his men to lie close, withdrew them from the north and south faces, where they were exposed to the cross-fire over the earthwork, and set a number of spademen to dig a shelter trench and embankment parallel to the northern and southern faces of the zariba.

Beginning under the eastern face, the men were in great measure protected from the enemy's bullets, and though every now and then a man was. .h.i.t, the new defences were completed with surprisingly little damage.

[Ill.u.s.tration: 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 Tom could see that his persistent refusal to reply caused first surprise and then anger among the Arabs. A general movement began on their part.

Some fifteen hundred men detached themselves from the main body and marched northwards; a similar body, not quite so numerous, moved to the south; and Tom instantly concluded that a combined attack was to be made simultaneously on each face of the zariba. Taking advantage of some scrub, the northern party was able to advance safely to within two hundred yards of the earthwork, while the southern force in the open halted at a rather greater distance, out of range of all but the Winchesters. Owing to lack of ammunition for these, Tom was unable to touch the enemy, and had perforce to await developments. As soon as the flanking forces had taken up their positions, a compact body of five hundred Arabs advanced to join the skirmishers in his immediate front, and the whole force there, some fifteen hundred men in all, formed up in four ranks over a frontage of about two hundred and fifty yards. Of the whole Arab host only five hundred men remained in the rear, stationed on a knoll selected as their head-quarters during the fight. Among these Rumaliza 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 to be a hand-to-hand struggle, with all the odds against him. He divided his reserve into three portions; one, under Mwonda's command, to reinforce any point threatened on the northern face; the second, under the kasegara, to watch the southern face; and the third, under his own direction, to stand in readiness to lend any a.s.sistance required at the eastern face. He cast his eye round the position; the men stood to their arms, expectant, eager, confident; there was not a sign of timidity 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 three divisions of Arabs and Manyema sprang forward at the same moment upon the three sides of the zariba. The lesson taught by their former mishap had been well learned; this time they avoided the stakes at the corners, and charged in directions perpendicular to the three fronts. For the first hundred and fifty yards they fired as they came, and though, when well within range, they were met by a murderous discharge of bullets and grenades from the earthwork, they pressed on regardless of their many casualties, and within half a minute had reached the thorn-protected zariba.

Then began a desperate and mortal struggle. With the exception of the reserve, still held by Tom as in a leash within the inner entrenchment, every man was at grips with the enemy. Firearms were useless. It was pike and bayonet against scimitar, clubbed musket, and spear. So fierce was 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 warriors struggled to force a way. The defenders had lost heavily during the enemy's advance, and Tom's anxious eye had noted many weak spots in the double rank of musketeers and pikemen. He himself stood in the middle of the square, to outward appearance impa.s.sive, the target for snap-shots still fired, when opportunity offered, by the a.s.sailants. A half-spent bullet struck him on the left forearm, inflicting a slight wound which he hardly felt. He mechanically took off his turban and handed it to one of his men to bind tightly about the arm, all the time having his eyes fixed on the thin line of troops fighting gallantly against such desperate odds. No detail of the fight escaped him. On the northern face the enemy were making but little headway; their force there consisted mainly of Manyema, and as yet the screen of mimosa and cactus was almost intact. But on the eastern face, where tall Arabs were led by the gigantic negro, the strength of the garrison was taxed to the uttermost. Most of the Arabs were attacking with scimitar in their right hand and clubbed musket in their left. At first the Bahima's long pikes, thrust out through interstices in the fence, were too much for them, but as the combat progressed they instinctively adapted their method of fighting to the new conditions. Approaching just out of reach of the pikes, they tempted the pikemen to lunge, and then with a sharp stroke of their keen blades either severed the head from the shaft or so weakened it as to render it useless. Tom saw the trick, and was about to give instructions how to meet it when he was delighted to perceive that his men, after one or two of them had been caught, had themselves seen how to avoid the danger by shortening their lunge. Even when the heads of their pikes were knocked off, however, they still made good use of the shafts, bringing them down with tremendous force upon the heads and bodies of all who came within reach.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Tom in the Breach]

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

"Bahima, with me!" shouted Tom, springing from his boulder, and dashing forward at the head of his reserve company to stem the torrent. He saw that there was not a moment to lose; if the breach was not instantly dammed the invading horde would carry all before them and sweep the garrison into the swamp.

Among the nine thousand men on that stricken field, Tom alone had, until this moment, been unarmed; but stooping now as he ran, he s.n.a.t.c.hed from the ground the weapon of a dead musketeer, just in time to parry a sweeping stroke of the negro captain that fell upon his musket and cleft the wood to the barrel. He saw the look of exultation in the negro's fierce eyes, but the force of the blow caused the a.s.sailant to recoil; before he could recover, Tom was in under his guard and with the b.u.t.t of the musket struck him square between the eyes. No skull but a negro's could 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 then Tom, dropping his broken musket, dealt him a body blow with the bare fist which from school experience he knew must be conclusive. The negro swayed, reeled, and dropped like a log; Tom was swept on over his prostrate body and saw him no more. The fight had occupied but a few seconds. Tom's men had thrown themselves furiously upon their opponents; the Arabs, missing the inspiriting presence and voice of their gigantic leader, faltered; in a few seconds more they were overpowered, and now tried to regain the outside of the square.

"Guard the gap, my men!" cried Tom, and seeing that there was no immediate danger of another irruption in this quarter he extricated himself from the melee, and made his way towards his post of observation to see how the fight was going elsewhere. Before he reached the centre he knew that the whole of his reserve was now engaged. Two breaks had been made on the southern face and one on the northern, and a small band of Manyema was threatening the flank of the defence by wading some yards into the swamp. On the south, as Tom knew by soundings that he had taken, the ooze was so deep that any man venturing into it would speedily be sucked down and submerged, but on the north there was a fordable though difficult approach, and it was important to repel this attack once for all. Calling, therefore, a few of his best musketeers, he stationed them at the north-western corner, and a.s.sured himself that by keeping up a steady fire there they could prevent a dangerous a.s.sault in that quarter.

Turning again, he saw, with a pang, that his force had already suffered very heavily. On every face of the zariba the ground was strewn with p.r.o.ne bodies, and it was a harrowing thought that, in the heat of the fight, nothing could be done for the wounded men, whose groans mingled with the yells of the combatants.

"Where is Mbutu?" was the unspoken question that ever and anon formed itself in Tom's mind. It was past nine o'clock; there had been ample time, surely, for the eight hundred men to arrive from the village, and Tom more than once looked anxiously towards the forest in the hope of seeing Mbutu appear with the reinforcements so urgently needed. Would he never come? On the knoll the five hundred Arabs were still held in reserve; so confused had been the contest hitherto that it must have been impossible for the Arab leaders to form a just idea as to how the fight was going; but they had seen at any rate that their men had not yet been driven away; and if they threw their reserve into the scale, as they might do at any moment, Tom felt that it would be impossible to maintain 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 of their a.s.sailants. Several times he was moved to utter cries of commendation and encouragement as he witnessed some skilful feat of arms. Mwonda was bearing his huge bulk resistless into the thick of the fight, and largely by his individual prowess and contagious recklessness the enemy were at last driven off pell-mell at all points. But while some ran to a safe distance and threw themselves exhausted on the ground, others clung tenaciously to their position outside the zariba, deriving almost as much protection from the earthwork as the garrison inside. For some minutes there was a strange lull, like that which occasionally interrupts the fiercest hurricane. The war-cries were hushed; the clash of arms was stilled; nothing could be heard but the moans of the wounded. Both sides were gathering strength for a renewed struggle. The sun was rising hot in the heavens, and Tom's men in the glare and heat were too much fatigued even to reload their muskets. Tom allowed them to go in small batches to the water-pitchers, where they gulped down a few mouthfuls, then returned to their posts. The enemy all the time were exposed to the fierce pangs of una.s.suageable thirst, and many lay panting on the ground, while some crept away to the extreme edge of the swamp, and lapped up the foul sc.u.m-cloaked death-dealing water there.

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

The restful interval was not of long duration. Tom, whose attention never flagged, noted a movement on the knoll. He saw the gaunt figure of the veteran leader stand before his men, draw his sword from its scabbard, and wave it above his head, while the gestures of his other hand showed that he was addressing the warriors in a fervid harangue.

These were doubtless the flower of his army. With the insight born of long experience he had recognized that a supreme effort was necessary to turn the scale, and he was resolved to play his last card.

"Bahima and Bairo and all you my brothers," said Tom, "the great Rumaliza himself is preparing to come against us. You have done well; you have fought valiantly, and fulfilled my highest hopes; but now still more is required of you. Play the man, my brothers. The great chief who has enslaved your people for so many years must not escape. Every man of you must fight like three men this day; every man of you must say within himself: 'Rumaliza shall not return to his stronghold, nor take slaves 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 to their places; the musketeers reloaded their weapons, and every man of them, for all his weariness, stood with a grim look of obstinate resolution. Away on the plain Rumaliza had put himself at the head of his men; Ahmed was at his side. They marched slowly to within a hundred and fifty yards of the eastern face of the zariba, and were received with an irregular volley from the musketeers. Even Tom's stout heart sank for an instant as he saw that the desperate fighting of the past two hours had rendered his men's aim so unsteady that, though the advancing ma.s.s offered an easy mark, there were now but few casualties in their ranks. The Arabs shouted as they too observed this fact; they halted, and summoned to them the men who still clung to the earthwork, along with those who had scattered after their repulse. Already Tom had seen what was impending. He ma.s.sed the whole of his reserve on the eastern face, placing the hardiest and least-wearied men alternately with the others so as to equalize the strength of the fighting line. He was himself pale with anxiety; his whole body seemed to him a bundle of tingling nerves; and as he contrasted his worn-out troops with the fresh and buoyant Arabs advancing, their unstained swords and spears gleaming in the sunlight, he prayed that Mbutu with the missing eight hundred might still come in time to redress the balance. He had so often looked in 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!" the Arabs came forward at the charge, Rumaliza himself, whom the breath of battle seemed to have infused with the vigour of youth, maintaining his place unfalteringly at the head of his men for many yards until he was distanced by them. It was a matter of seconds. Then, as Tom turned his head finally from the forest whence no help came, with the stern determination to hold out till the last gasp, his eye caught a glint of light little more than half a mile distant. It was just above the swamp itself. His heart leapt, his eye gleamed with hope. A second instantaneous glance showed him that it was the sunlight reflected from a spear-head; dropping his gaze, he descried a number of small dark objects moving on the very surface of the swamp--the heads of a band of men wading almost breast-deep in the ooze. There were no turbans, no white garments; they were coming from the north-west; surely they must be no other than the long-expected eight hundred! A glad cry broke spontaneously from Tom's lips; despondency went to the winds; and at that instant the onrushing force of the enemy fell like a thunderbolt upon the staggering parapet. Slashing, hacking, hewing, the fierce-eyed Arabs surged into the gaps made in the last attack. An almost audible shudder pa.s.sed through the ranks of the defenders as they braced themselves for the last dread struggle. Not a man blenched; they all knew that they could expect no quarter; and Tom, looking at them, felt that with the battle fever in their veins they would dare all.

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

The Arabs, with Ahmed, wounded as he was, at their head, were cutting their way steadily through the gaps, enlarging them as they did so, and pressing the defenders backwards by sheer weight of numbers. Behind them Rumaliza raised his shrill voice in encouragement. Every now and then a desperate rally regained a few yards for the garrison, but they were unable to maintain their advantage, and Tom began to dread lest all should be over before Mbutu could arrive. Standing in the centre of the square he felt like the man in the iron room of old fable, with a wall approaching inch by inch to crush him. His last hope rested on the men he had placed at the corners of the zariba. Protected from external a.s.sault by the stakes, they had faced inwards at his order, and taken the encroaching Arabs in flank. But Tom saw that they were too few to delay the invaders for more than a minute or two. Could Mbutu arrive in time? Fierce shouts rent the air all around him; the heavy clash of weapons, the flash of scimitars in the hot sunbeams, the gleaming eyes and distorted features, the pants and cries of the warriors, the shrieks of the wounded, made up a terrible scene that well-nigh broke down his nerve. Arabs were still springing into the zariba; the Bahima were engaged on every face, fighting an unequal fight, doing manfully, but receding foot by foot, inch by inch. Tom felt that he must throw himself into the fray. He sprang from his boulder; seizing a bayoneted musket, he leapt to the side of Mwonda as he smote thick and fast upon the serried ma.s.s, and shoulder to shoulder with him tried desperately to beat back the overwhelming tide.

Suddenly a tremendous shout rang out to the north. Tom, at that moment beset by three Arabs, thrilled with relief as he recognized the familiar battle-cry of the Bahima. Unperceived by the enemy, Mbutu and his eight hundred had waded through the swamp, formed up, a shivering miry crowd, under cover of the thick growth of rushes fringing the swamp, and darted out upon the rear of the Manyema attacking the northern face of the zariba. Taken completely by surprise, the bewildered negroes turned about, were seized with panic, and without a thought of resistance broke and fled, Mbutu's men pouring after them with jubilant shouts, and taking with their long spears a terrible toll of the fugitives. The pressure in front of Tom was immediately eased, for without knowing exactly what had happened the whole Arab force seemed to have become aware that the tide was turning. But Rumaliza behind his men lifted his quavering yet penetrating voice in adjuration, and the throng immediately about him threw themselves again into the fray. Tom would gladly have recalled Mbutu's troops to take the main Arab force in flank, but, intoxicated with their success, they were streaming away to the north-east after the fleeing enemy. It was not an opportunity to be lost, however, and Tom seized the moment by the forelock. He saw that the defenders of the northern face, finding themselves suddenly without an enemy, were hesitating what to do. Ordering Mwonda to continue his exertions with even double energy--an appeal to which the weary t.i.tan n.o.bly responded--Tom instructed the commander of the northern line to bring his pikemen to the support of the eastern contingent. Then, gathering about him the panting musketeers who remained on this side of the square, Tom led them out rapidly by the northern gate towards the right rear of the Arab main body. This movement, being covered by the wall of the zariba, was not perceived by the Arabs until the sallying party, skirting the stakes, emerged into the open. Of the four hundred and fifty musketeers who had originally been posted at the northern face less than three hundred remained to follow Kuboko, but coming unexpectedly on the Arabs' flank and rear they were more than sufficient to throw consternation into their ranks. Too late Ahmed saw the peril threatening him. His men were already disheartened by the sudden strengthening of the resistance in their front, due to the reinforcement of 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, the exultant Bahima, flushed with the antic.i.p.ation and a.s.surance of victory, flung themselves with a fierce yell upon the Arab right. At once it crumbled to pieces; there was a general _sauve-qui-peut_. Away into the open plain swarmed Arabs and Manyema; arms, ammunition, everything that might impede their flight was flung away by the panic-stricken mob.

Away and away, heedless of direction, trampling on fallen men, stumbling over obstacles, on they sped, some dropping and dying of exhaustion and fright, others flinging themselves on the ground and whining for mercy as the pursuers overtook them.

"Thank G.o.d!" murmured Tom, as he stood still a few yards from the zariba. "The fight is won."

There was no need to order his captains to continue the pursuit; they were leading on their men with fresh ardour, and would not return until they had thoroughly dispersed the remnant of the hostile force.

Thankful to the bottom of his heart, yet pitying the wretches who lay all around him, Tom returned with a few men to the zariba to do what could be done for the wounded. The square presented a terrible sight--a sight 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 than five hundred of his own men had fallen, and at least twice as many of the enemy. As he surveyed the scene, and set some of his men, tired as they were, to tend the wounded, friend and foe alike, only one thought consoled him for the suffering and the loss of life that day's work had entailed. "It is a retribution and a promise," he said to himself; "retribution on the Arabs for the years and years of untold misery they have inflicted on the people, and a promise of long years of freedom and peaceful industry. It is worth the price."

While the men fulfilled his orders he mounted his boulder once more, and looked across the field. Away in front, on the knoll whence they had started on their last fatal charge, a band of some twenty turbaned warriors had taken up their position, and in a roughly-formed square stood at bay, to defend their aged chief. All around them surged a throng of Bahima, among whom Mwonda was conspicuous. The Arabs were armed with rifles, and as they grouped themselves closely about Rumaliza they did deadly execution among the a.s.sailants. But the cordon was gradually closing around them. Calling one of his men, Tom despatched him with a message to Mwonda.

"Spare all who surrender," he said.

The man hastened on his mission. He delivered the message. Mwonda, with instant obedience at which Tom rejoiced, ordered his men to halt, and in a loud voice, audible at the zariba, called on the Arab chief to surrender. The only answer was a rifle-shot that killed the man by Mwonda's side. With a yell of rage the giant sprang forward at the head of his men. He had obeyed Kuboko; his duty was done; the Arabs gave no quarter, 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 a short hand-to-hand fight; then, bursting through the devoted body-guard that encircled the gaunt figure of the chief, Mwonda swung the huge two-handed sword he had taken from the prostrate negro captain earlier in the day, and with one blow cleft Rumaliza to the chine.

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

"RUMALIZA IS DEAD!"

CHAPTER XIX