CHAPTER XV
The Struggle at the Breach
LEAVING two hundred men to guard the gateway in case the Baggarasshould rally, Reeves hastened to the breach, whilst Hugh and Geraldwere told off to see that the guns mounted on the walls were directedagainst the Arabs who were devoting their energies to this part ofthe fortifications. Bringing up the Krupp at this stage of theproceedings would be futile. The correspondent realized, in spite ofthe fact that he had already loaded and trained the piece, that themanipulation of the time fuses of the shells was for the presentbeyond him; he must rest content in the knowledge that the enemycould no longer gall the city with impunity. There was still danger,however, and every available man was required to defend the ominousgap in the walls.
By the glare of the enormous wood fires, that had been lighted uponthe battlements, Reeves could form some idea of what was going on.Already the Arabs, with their customary fanatical zeal, were throwingthemselves upon the knights and archers, who, led by Sir Jehan inperson, were performing prodigious acts of valour.
Slowly, yet surely, the Croixilians were being driven back. Theknights, hampered for want of sword room, were gripped by the anklesby their ferocious foes, who did not hesitate to toss the bodies oftheir fellow-tribesmen upon the lanceheads of their mail-cladopponents. The archers, unable to loose their shafts for fear ofhitting friend as well as foe in the melee, could only join in theconflict with their swords and spears. Groans, curses, and cries ofpain, triumph, and dismay rose on the night air, mingling with thesharp clash of steel, or the dull swish of swordcut falling upon hideshield or human flesh.
Drawing his pistol, Reeves forced his way between the ranks of themen who fringed the scene of conflict. Ten shots he fired, quickly,yet deliberately. None missed its mark. This temporarily cleared apath for Sir Jehan and his hauberk-clad men, and the tide of battlechanged. Fighting with a superb courage, that even the Croixilianscould not help admiring, the foremost of the Arabs were forced backtill they were stopped by the press of those behind. Then, with agigantic spring, the Moslems charged again, and the ebb of thefortunes of Croixilia began once more.
Having discharged his automatic weapon, Reeves discreetly slipped outof the throng, retired to a safe distance, and thrust ten moreprecious cartridges into the magazine.
"What's up with those guns?" he muttered impatiently, for on eitherside of the breach he could see the walls black with the soldiers ofCroixilia. "Hang 'em! Why don't they open fire?"
But he soon saw that there was something to be done without askingquestions, and once again he dashed into the press, checking the Arabrush as before.
"This won't do!" he exclaimed. "Twenty of my precious cartridges gonealready, and no permanent good done! If the beggars press anotherattack as determined as this, it will be touch and go with us. Ugh,you brute!" This last to an apparently-wounded Baggara, who, leapingup from the ground flourishing a keen-bladed spear, rushed straightupon the practically unarmed Englishman.
Up went Reeves's pistol; but the son of the desert, once he isenjoying the lust of battle, cares not for a loaded firearm, letalone an empty one. Here was his chance to send an unbeliever on hispath to the kingdom of Shaitan, and himself to an assured paradise.
Hurling his useless weapon at the Baggara, and missing hisshock-haired head by an inch, Reeves threw himself into the approvedboxing attitude. But ere the Arab's blade came within strikingdistance, a man threw himself bodily upon Reeves on his left or blindside. The Englishman, taken completely by surprise, staggered a goodhalf-dozen paces, and finally, tripping over a dead archer, sathalf-dazed upon the ground.
Even as he sat there he saw a great blade flash in the torchlight,and the Baggara, his hide shield and muscular chest shorn through bya single blow, fell lifeless.
"You could be ill spared, my brother," shouted a well-known voice, asGarth stooped and grasped the Englishman by the hand.
"Thanks!" replied Reeves shortly but nevertheless gratefully; andrecovering and reloading his pistol he followed his comrade-in-armsonce more into the fray.
Suddenly, with a terrific, ear-splitting detonation, two guns uponthe wall sent their death-dealing charges of grapeshot into thethickest of the Arab assailants. The result was similar to that of asharp scythe cutting wheat, and a double line appeared in thecompact, howling, surging press. With redoubled shouts ofencouragement and triumph the Croixilians swept away those of theirfoes who were immediately opposed to them, and before the discomfitedArabs on the outer side of the sloping bank of stone rubble couldrally, they too were forced back across the choked moat. Now therewas room for the archers, and from the walls, the houses behind thebreach, and the deadly gap itself flights of arrows sped into theMoslem ranks. Once again the guns, reloaded with desperate haste,added to the carnage. This was more than fanatical courage couldstand; the repulse became a disorderly retreat.
Many of the Croixilian knights besought Sir Jehan to let them leadthe cavalry in pursuit, but to their entreaties he turned a deaf ear.Enough lives had been lost already, although not thrown away, and heknew the risk of following a fierce and wily foe too far into theopen country.
But, though the attack had been beaten off, there was no rest thatnight for the harried and wearied defenders. Knights, commoners, andserfs all worked with a will, clearing the moat and piling up thedislodged masonry so as to form an efficient breastwork shoulddaylight bring with it another desperate onslaught.
With the dawn the magnitude of the sanguinary conflict becamevisible. Within and without the breach the ground was covered withcorpses, many lying in ghastly heaps. Outside the gate, which theArabs all but succeeded in carrying, the carnage had been almost asgreat; while in the direction of the main Arab encampment a long lineof dead men and horses showed how stubbornly the gallant five hundredCroixilian horse had fought in the endeavour to regain the city.
Perhaps the strangest view of all was that of the site of the hostilecamp. Every tent had vanished, and only the sinister line of trenchesand more still and silent bodies marked the former position of thefoiled invaders. They had taken the opportunity afforded by the fewremaining hours of darkness to strike their tents and beat a retreateastwards.
It was the same with the other encampments. The Arabs, disheartenedby their losses, had once more fallen back from before the walls ofthe city that for centuries had defied their efforts.
"Whatever have you been up to, Gerald?" asked Reeves, as the twolads, powder-blackened, dog-tired, yet wild with delight, rejoinedtheir comrade. Almost all the hair from young Kirby's face and headhad been scorched off: his eyebrows were marked only by a fewfrizzled hairs, while his pate was as bald as a monk's.
"It's a wonder he wasn't blinded," said Hugh. "One of the gunsapparently missed fire, and as he was placing fresh powder in thetouchhole the stuff went off."
"It's nothing," replied Gerald. "We both managed to get one home atthe same time."
"Lucky for us you did," growled Reeves approvingly; "but you were aprecious long time about it."
"Couldn't do it quicker," replied Hugh inconsequently. "We had topush half a dozen of the niggers off the wall--not us alone, ofcourse. Look here!" and the correspondent noticed for the first timethat Hugh's right leg was bound round with a strip of linen.
"Oh, it's nothing!" the latter continued cheerfully; "only a slightcut from a knife--at least I think it was."
"And the Arabs were already on the wall?" asked Reeves, inastonishment. "Rather! They were trying to swing the guns round whenwe came up."
The correspondent said no more. He now realized how near to successthe Arabs had been. Had those two guns been turned upon the defendersit would have been "all up". It was owing solely to the initiativedisplayed by his two youthful comrades that the green banner of theProphet was not floating over the Mound of Pharamond, and the city inthe hands of the Mohammedans.
After a hasty meal and a bath the three Englishmen were ready toaccompany Sir Jehan to the site of the Moslem camp. The tents hadbee
n struck with great haste, as was made apparent by the articlesleft lying about in all directions; but everyone's attention wasdrawn to the silent story told by the wedge-shaped mass of deadbodies representing the gallant Croixilian cavalry and theirformidable and far more numerous foes. The line of the fierce chargewas clearly defined till it reached almost the centre of the camp,where the tent of the Moslem commander-in-chief had been pitched.Here the bodies of the hauberk-clad knights lay thickest, yet in avery small compass; and right in the forefront, with no less thanseven honourable wounds, was the corpse of Sir Oliver Fayne. By thefew survivors of the desperate enterprise it was told that thegallant knight had pledged his word to reach the Arab commander'stent or fall in the attempt, and indeed he had all but carried outthe first part of his vow.
While Sir Jehan was gazing mournfully yet proudly upon the scene ofthis achievement, three mounted men, with loose rein and hot spur,came with the news that the retiring host had already placed fiveleagues betwixt them and the city, and that there were no signs oftheir rallying.
"That is indeed good news," exclaimed Sir Jehan. "We are safe fromassault for some years to come, I hope."
"I shouldn't care to take that for granted," observed Reeves. "Evennow their retreat may be a skilfully-planned ruse. Are there any moreof our men following them up?"
"It is not necessary," replied Sir Jehan. "They have vanished fromour territory for good and all. I ought----"
The ruler of Croixilia's words were interrupted by a crashing volley,delivered at less than a hundred yards' distance. Hugh's horse sankon its knees and flung its rider in the dust, while Reeves felt abullet plough through his hair.
"Dismount and take cover," he shouted, and even as he was in the actof throwing himself out of the saddle he saw Sir Jehan leaning overthe neck of his charger. Ere the correspondent or any of those aroundhim could rush to the knight's assistance, the head of theCroixilians fell to the earth with a thud. Quickly Reeves turned himover. One look was enough. Sir Jehan de Valx was dead. Two shots hadstruck him, one passing through the temples, the other slightly abovethe heart.
But there was no time for grief. Springing from the cover of ashallow trench, above which the smoke of the volley still rose idlyin the calm air, there came a body of at least thirty Arabs, who,with brandished weapons and loud shouts of fierce joy, boundedswiftly towards the astonished Croixilians and their Englishcomrades.
The surprise was complete.
Captured at Tripoli: A Tale of Adventure Page 15
