I was not stunned however, although I must have been overlaid some
time, for when I wriggled myself clear of the horrible load, our
fellows had already gained the platform, led by old Davie Doublepipe,
who was laying about him with his rusty weapon like a Paladin of old;
at one moment shredding away showers of twigs from the branches that
overhung us; at another inflicting deep and deadly gashes on his
antagonists; his sword raining blood, as he whirled it round his head
flashing like lightning; while his loud growl, like the roaring of the
surf after a gale, alternated rapidly with his _tootletoo_, that gushed
shrill and sharp from out the infernal noise and smoke and blaze of the
tumult. The Gazelles and Midges had now closed hand to hand with their
antagonists, and the next minute the survivors of the latter fairly
turned tail, and fled along a narrow path, equally muddy as the one we
had entered by; where many of them stuck up to the knees, and were
there shot down by our people, but no attempt was made to follow them.
Several men had been terribly torn by the bloodhounds, who, when their
masters had fled, noble brutes as they were, stood gasping and barking;
and handling at us, at the entrance of the opening. thus covering
their retreat;--spouting out in abound or two towards us every now and
then, and immediately retiring, and yelling and barking at the top of
their pipes. I was going to fire at one of them, when the Scotch
corporal of marines, already introduced on the scene, took the liberty
of putting in his oar. "Beg pardon, Mr Brail, but let abee for let
abee with mad dogs and daft folk, is an auld but a very true adage." I
looked with an enquiring eye at the poor fellow, who appeared worn to
the bone with illness, so that I was puzzled to understand how Sprawl
had brought him with him; but I took his hint, and presently the canine
rear-guard beat a retreat, and all was quiet for a time.
We now spiked the cannon and capsized them into the mud, where they
instantly sank, and I had time to look around on the scene of conflict.
There lay two of our people stark and stiff, countersunk into the soft
soil, which was gradually settling over the bodies in a bloody mire;
while four wounded men were struggling to extricate themselves, and
endeavouring to attain the hard footing of the platform of planks.
Three of them, with the assistance of their mess-mates, did accomplish
this, but the fourth was too badly hurt, and too faint from the loss of
blood, to persevere, and in despair threw himself back, gasping on the
bloody quagmire.
"What is that?" said I, while half a dozen dropping shots sparkled out
from beneath the thick jungle, and at the very instant one of the
boat-keepers stuck his head over the stockade.
"The tide has left us, sir, and the mouth of the creek has not six
inches of water in it, sir. The boats must stick hard and fast until
next flood."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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