Part 22 (1/2)

Rhodesians and blacks worked together to dig a trench and construct a parapet. It was a strenuous task, for in order to give as much s.p.a.ce as possible to the already congested defenders the new defence work had been pushed as far forward as the strength of the flames permitted.

The while desultory long-distance firing was indulged in by the discomfited foe, the bullets pinging against the hard ground or flying with a sharp ”siss” overhead.

While this work was in progress the corporal hurried up and addressed Wilmshurst.

”Your n.i.g.g.e.r sergeant's. .h.i.t, sir,” he reported.

The subaltern made his way to the spot where the machine-gun had been placed out of the line of hostile fire, since a single bullet might put it out of action. Lying upon the ground with his head propped against the ammunition box was Bela Mos.h.i.+.

The Haussa was barely conscious. He recognised his young officer and gave a determined but ineffective attempt to smile. Already one of the men had cut away Bela Mos.h.i.+'s tunic, revealing a bullet wound on the right side of the chest. Even as Dudley placed his water-bottle to the sergeant's lips the Haussa's eyes closed and he lost consciousness.

”What do you make of it?” asked Dudley, addressing the man attending to the patient.

”He's as like to snuff it, sir,” he replied. ”Can't tell exactly--and it's a tough job to tackle with only a field-service dressing.”

”When was he hit?” continued the subaltern.

”That's a mystery, sir,” was the answer. ”We'd brought the gun under cover--there wasn't a chance of being hit by direct fire, you'll understand--and the black seemed to crumple up suddenly. Never said a word, but just pitched on his face. I'll do my level best for him, sir.”

Leaving his water-bottle--and water was a scarce commodity, as the supply within the kraal had been overrun by the fire--Dudley made his way to the gap in the palisade, where other units were hard at work digging a ditch across the exposed opening. Here he came face to face with his brother, whose left arm was bandaged and in a sling.

”Copped it, you see, Dudley,” remarked Rupert. ”If there's any trouble knocking about I'm bound to stand in. But I guess I did my whack before I was knocked out,” he added grimly. ”Managed to work off sixty rounds, and when we started I found myself wondering if I had the strength to pick up a rifle.”

”What have you got?” asked his brother.

”Bayonet thrust,” was the reply. ”We were jammed up anyhow, but the fellow who gave it me won't try the trick on any one else. Have you any water?”

Dudley shook his head.

”Sorry,” he replied.

”Seems a scarcity of it,” continued Rupert. ”All the men's water-bottles are bone-dry, and it's hot work tackling a kraal fire.

The n.i.g.g.e.rs, too, are clamouring for water.”

”The fire's burning itself out, I fancy,” remarked Dudley. ”Before dawn we ought to be able to get to the well. Now I must do my whack.”

Taking a spade of native workmans.h.i.+p from the hands of an exhausted trooper the subaltern set to work with a will, for much had to be done in a very short s.p.a.ce of time. It was a case of excavating under extreme difficulties, for apart from the smoke and heat from the blazing huts bullets were dropping frequently and at random upon that part of the kraal still held by the hard-pressed but as yet unconquerable garrison.

Throughout the rest of the night the enemy made no attempt to renew the a.s.sault. With the dawn the worst of the task of shortening the line was accomplished, and the jaded men threw themselves down to rest, until every available position immune from rifle fire was covered with khaki and black figures sleeping the sleep of utter exhaustion.

There was little rest for Dudley Wilmshurst and the patrol-commander.

Having visited the sentries they examined the defences in order to discover if there were any weak points that had escaped notice during the hours of darkness.

With the exception of half a dozen huts every building comprising the kraal was reduced to a heap of charred wood and ashes, from which smoke was rising sullenly in the still air. The stockade adjoining had shared the same fate, and had it not been for the earthworks constructed during the night the rear of the defences would have been completely open to direct rifle fire. At present the heat of the smouldering embers was too great to allow any attempt to procure water from the well that was situated almost in the centre of the kraal, close to the site of the headman's hut.

The captured machine gun was still under cover, ready to be rushed to any point where an attack might develop, but the trouble that confronted the team was the fact that the water in the jacket had evaporated and no more was at present procurable. The supply of rifle ammunition, too, was running perilously short. In view of the liability of the machine gun to jam after a few rounds, Wilmshurst would have had no hesitation in using the cartridges from the belt had the gun been a Maxim. But here he was beaten, for the difference in British and German small-arms ammunition makes an interchange impossible.

The next best thing was to arrange existing stocks, so that a few troopers had plenty of .303 ammunition. The others, supplying themselves with rifles and cartridges taken from the hundreds of German dead, were then in a position to give a good account of themselves should the enemy again attack at close quarters.

Having completed his present duties Wilmshurst made his way to the hut where Bela Mos.h.i.+ had been taken after his wound had been dressed. The building, consisting of bamboo walls and palm-leaf thatch, had been converted into a hospital and made bullet proof by piling up earth against the sides to a height of about six feet. Above that the bamboos and the roof were riddled with bullets, making it a hazardous business for any one to stand upright.

In the limited s.p.a.ce were two Rhodesians suffering from gunshot wounds.