Tom Willoughby's Scouts: A Story of the War in German East AfricaStrang, Herbert
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Tom Willoughby's Scouts: A Story of the War in German East Africa
Strang, Herbert
German East Africa -- Juvenile fiction; World War, 1914-1918 -- Africa -- Juvenile fiction
What hope was there of relief from the British border? In reply to his
note a Major Burnaby had bidden him "hold fast," a message that seemed
to hold some slight promise of help. Would that help come in time? If
the enemy were in sufficient strength, a few hours might see the defence
overwhelmed and the little community at the mercy of the conquerors.
How many days was it since he had received Major Burnaby’s message?
Three?--or four? He could not tell. He had lost count of time. So
obsessed had he been with the problems of the defence that he had given
scarcely a thought to what might have been passing in the village. Moses
had kept the fighting men supplied with food, sending down carriers
under cover of night. The men on guard at the cleft had reported that
all was well, and the single sentry who kept watch on the island prison
had sent word that the firing had at first caused some excitement among
the prisoners. They had grouped themselves on the shore, gazing down
the nullah, talking to one another--all but Reinecke, who had stood
apart from the rest, and sometimes walked up and down with quick
impatient footsteps, twirling his long white moustache. Tom had not
seen how the sound of the shells had caused the women and children to
huddle together and sit cowering and moaning in their huts. He had not
heard their wails when word came that such-and-such were dead, nor their
croons of pity and tenderness as they did their little best for those
who were wounded. All his thoughts were centred on the one pressing
problem: how to hold out, to wear down the enemy, to gain time.
When morning dawned he looked anxiously down the nullah. Its downward
slope enabled him to survey its whole length to the entrance without
unduly exposing himself. He saw a few figures moving about where the
barricade had been, but between him and them none of the enemy was in
sight. The vegetation on either side of the stream, growing to the
bases of the precipitous sides, would shelter hundreds: had any of them
crept up towards him under this cover during the night? He could not
tell; nor dared he send out scouts to reconnoitre.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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