Settlers and Scouts: A Tale of the African HighlandsStrang, Herbert
General
Settlers and Scouts: A Tale of the African Highlands
Strang, Herbert
Africa, East -- Juvenile fiction
But at this moment a shout was raised that the enemy were attacking from
the other side of the island. Ferrier instantly sprang down from his
perch, and calling on his men to follow him, rushed across the enclosure
to repel this new assault. John, perforce confined to his post, ordered
his company to join the others, while he alone kept watch on the
causeway. Being undisturbed, he had leisure to consider what the
enemy’s plan had been. He could not doubt that they had arranged in
their council of war that the Swahilis with their party should cross the
river and creep under cover of the trees and scrub to the western shore
of the pool. The intention had certainly been that the attack should be
made on both sides of the fort simultaneously. If it had been perfectly
timed, and begun at a concerted signal, the plight of the garrison might
have been very serious. But careful co-operation is impossible to the
negro. The men on the eastern side had rushed blindly to the assault,
heedless of what the other party was doing. These, led by Juma himself,
had made their way unobserved to the place arranged, and swum the pool
under cover of the fringe of trees which were still left standing. But
only one or two had landed when they heard the din of fighting on the
other side. Juma, more intelligent than the negroes, had seen at once
the necessity of striking while the garrison was engaged in that
quarter. But he was compelled to wait until he had sufficient support,
and by the time he had gathered a score of men about him the eastern
attack was beaten off, and the defenders were hurrying to meet him.
When Ferrier reached the wall, he saw the Swahilis and their followers
coming up the slope in a straggling body. The moment they perceived
him, they halted; those who had rifles fired them off, too hurriedly to
take effective aim; the others let fly a shower of arrows. Then they
all rushed forward, a disorderly shouting mob. Ferrier fired his rifle,
but his men had not had time to reload, having hastened from the bastion
immediately after the final volley upon the causeway. The enemy had
come within about twenty yards of the wall when Ferrier, whipping out
his revolver, snapped a shot at Juma and winged him. The big man fell
to the ground with a howl of pain; his men halted in consternation.
This was not the easy victory they had been promised. Their hesitation
was fatal. It had given time to the men on the wall to load their
pieces. A general fusillade spattered bullets among the waverers; it
quickened them into action, but instead of continuing their advance they
turned tail and bolted down the slope, pursued by a shower of arrows.
Juma had risen, and struggled along with the help of two of his kind.
They fled with all speed among the trees, and the garrison, yelling with
delight, saw them no more that day.
CHAPTER THE TWENTY-SECOND--A Counter Stroke
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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