Part 5 (1/2)

Even as he spoke the portals shook under a succession of thunderous blows.

”The rear door,” cried the colonel. ”We may escape that way.”

”No, no; the building is surrounded,” rejoined the Hindoo. ”There is no escape.”

He was right. Shouts were heard on all sides, the blows on the doors redoubled, and stray shots came in at the windows, both front and rear.

Sir Arthur lay prostrate in his chair.

”The roof! the roof!” he groaned. ”We must take to the roof.”

”By Jove, he's right,” cried the colonel. ”It's our last hope. Blow out the lights and come on, quick!”

The lamps were out in a second, but a dim glare still shone into the room from the torches outside. With an effort, Sir Arthur staggered to his feet. Two of the soldiers a.s.sisted him, and then in great haste they hurried through the hall to a rear room.

The building was of one story, and from this apartment a ladder led to an open trap overhead.

Sir Arthur was pushed up first, followed closely by the rest, and just as Momba brought up the rear and dragged the ladder after him, the great residency doors gave way with a crash, and a wild yell of triumph told only too plainly that the enemy had effected an entrance.

Guy's quick eye observed a big flat stone lying near, a precautionary measure provided by some former governor, no doubt, and, calling on Momba to a.s.sist him, he dragged it over the trap.

From below came a rush of footsteps and the sound of smas.h.i.+ng furniture as the Arabs hurried to and fro in search of their prey.

”We are safe for the present,” said the colonel; ”they can't possibly reach us, and they may not even discover where we are.”

The roof comprised the whole extent of the building, and was probably thirty feet square. It was surrounded by a stone parapet three feet in height, and from this parapet the little band of fugitives witnessed a scene that none forgot to his dying day.

North and west of the residency the town seemed to be in comparative quiet and darkness, for only stray lights were to be seen at intervals.

But off to the south lay the fortifications, and here a sharp conflict was waging.

Through the darkness of the night the flash of every shot was seen, and all along the line blazed out three continuous sheets of flame as the beleaguered garrison poured their fire into the attacking parties that advanced from both sides.

”They can't hold out an hour,” said Melton. ”The foe are too strong for them.”

A sharp cry from Captain Waller turned all eyes on the harbor, where the water was illumined by twinkling lights and the flash of rifles. The meaning of this was plain. The steamer had been attacked. No doubt those innocent looking dhows had been filled with armed Arabs, waiting for the signal, and now every escape was cut off. The firing was sharp and severe for a while, and then it gave way to loud cheers.

The steamers had fallen into the hands of the enemy.

”There goes the last hope,” said the colonel; ”and look, even the garrison has succ.u.mbed.”

It was true. The firing had almost entirely ceased, and the few stray shots that still rang out were drowned in the vast roar that rose from all parts of the town.

The residency was cordoned by a surging ma.s.s of wretches, intoxicated with triumph, and fresh hordes came pouring in, riotous from the slaughter of the garrison.

”Some cunning fiend has planned all this,” muttered Colonel Carrington, ”and planned it infernally well, too.”

”The Arab, Makar Makalo, is the ringleader, sir,” said Melton, ”but he is only acting for Rao Khan, the Emir of Harar, who has long desired the port of Zalia.”

”A swift retribution will come,” replied the colonel, ”but it will come too late to aid us.”