Chapter 9 THE FIGHT FOR THE SEAPLANE

At dawn Wilmshurst left the camp, accompanied by the full platoon, to attempt the salving of the crippled seaplane. It was a comparatively easy matter to follow the tracks of the two airmen, for the down-trodden grass and the frequent sights of wisps of clothing adhering to the briars and thorns were evidences of a spoor that even an indifferent scout could determine.

"Those two johnnies must have had a rough time of it," thought the subaltern. "I can well imagine their difficulties. It's a wonder they got to the camp at all, for there are distinct spoors of lions. What's that, Bela Moshi?"

"Big rhino him come by," reported the sergeant, pointing to heavy depression on the ground. What he meant was that a rhinoceros had cut across the bush path not so very long ago, as the freshly trampled grass showed.

"All right," replied Wilmshurst. "Warn the men to be on the alert. We don't want casualties."

Bela Moshi hurried to the head of the column, for the Haussas were in single file, owing to the narrowness of the bush-path.

At that moment the platoon was crossing a dried water-course, the ground shelving steeply on both sides. The subaltern had an almost uninterrupted view of the heads and shoulders of the men preceding him as the foremost began the stiff ascent beyond the nullah.

Suddenly the Haussas broke right and left, uttering warning shouts. Charging down the narrow track was a huge animal of the buffalo tribe, commonly known in Central Africa as a "bush-cow."

The ground trembled under the thud of the brute's ponderous weight as it rushed at terrific speed to attack the khaki-clad blacks.

One man alone stood his ground. Dropping on one knee he fired straight at the centre of the tufts of hair that concealed the animal's eyes, the range being less than thirty yards.

Dudley heard the almost simultaneous crash of the rifle and the thud of the bullet against the bush-cow's frontal-bone, but apparently unharmed the animal continued its headlong rush.

Too late the plucky Haussa attempted to avoid the impetus by springing aside. Even as he leapt to his feet the man was caught by the lowered head of the ferocious brute and tossed ten feet in the air.

Across the bed of the dried-up stream the bush-cow charged, until Wilmshurst hurriedly came to the conclusion that it was quite time for him to dodge behind a tree. As he made for shelter he saw the animal's fore-legs collapse and its ponderous carcass plough the ground.

Making his way through the press of excited Haussas Wilmshurst saw that the bush-cow was stone dead. The bullet had penetrated the brain, entering by a neatly-drilled puncture and emerging by a hole as large as a man's fist. Yet, although hit in a vital spot, the animal had covered a distance of nearly fifty yards before collapsing.

"One no go," declared Bela Moshi. "Anoder him lib for come plenty quick."

"Think so?" remarked the subaltern. "Then don't stand bunched up together-extend. Three of you lift Nara Gilul into the shade."

Anxiously Wilmshurst examined the brave but unfortunate black. Nara Gilul was fully conscious in spite of having fallen on his head, but two of his ribs were fractured and his shins were badly cut although protected by his puttees.

"Nara Gilul him stop till we come back," suggested the corporal of his section in answer to Dudley's question as to what was to be done. "Him 'ab rifle an' ammunition. Him lib to take care ob himsel'. Berry much him fault."

"That won't do, corporal," said Wilmshurst. "We must send him back. Take five men with you. It will be only two hours' trek."

Accordingly the Haussas set to work to make a stretcher, performing the task with wonderful celerity. They were on the point of lifting the helpless man when the shout was raised.

"Bush-cow, him come!"

"Take cover, all of you!" shouted the subaltern, loath to hamper his task by additional casualties.

The Haussas obeyed with one exception-Bela Moshi.

The sergeant, slipping a clip into the magazine, stood right in the centre of the path along which the second bush-cow was tearing, eager to avenge its mate.

Wilmshurst made no further attempt to order Beta Moshi to take refuge. He realised that to do so would flurry the imperturbable sergeant, but he was entirely at a loss to understand why the Haussa was apparently courting disaster in precisely the same way as the luckless Nara Gilul had done.

A rifle bolt clicked in the bush on the sergeant's flank.

"Unload!" he hissed, knowing that the risk he ran from an excited man with a loaded rifle was greater than that confronting him.

At a terrific pace the bush-cow bore down. Twenty yards from the motionless man the brute lowered its head. In that position its vision was obscured by the thick tufts of long hair. Having taken its final "sighting position" the animal relied upon its momentum to achieve the destruction of its human enemy.

The moment the bush-cow lowered its head Bela Moshi, with every sense on the alert, leapt sideways behind a tree. Then, as the infuriated quadruped thundered past, the Haussa brought his rifle to the shoulder and fired.

Thirty yards further the bush-cow dropped and died with a bullet through its heart, while the victor, grinning as only a black can grin, strode magnificently up to his victim and planted one foot upon the quivering carcass.

The injured man having been sent back and the carcasses of the two animals dragged aside-they would provide excellent meat if the task of sun drying the flesh was not unduly delayed-the march was resumed, until on gaining the summit of a low hill the wings of the broken-down seaplane were visible as they rose obliquely above the scanty scrub at a distance of nearly two miles.

Halting his men, Wilmshurst made a careful survey of the ground by means of his binoculars. A number of large birds-aasvogels, or African vultures-were circling over the derelict. It was therefore safe to conclude that no human being, unless helpless to lift a hand, was in the vicinity.

In the midst of his investigations Tari Barl approached with a self-satisfied smile on his ebony features.

"Askari him foots, sah!" he reported, holding up three fingers of his right hand to indicate that he had discovered the spoor of three of the German native soldiery.

"H'm!" muttered Dudley. "That's rotten news. New spoor, Tarry Barrel?"

The Haussa nodded vehemently, and led his officer to the footprints.

Examination showed that three natives had been following the spoor of the two naval airmen. The firm tread of the latter-for at that stage of the journey they were comparatively fresh-was partly obliterated by the typical imprints of a black walking stealthily on his toes, for the impress of the heels hardly occurred. The Askaris had abandoned the trail a short distance from the brow of the hill, for there were marks where they had stood and debated, and the spoor leading in a north-westerly direction showed that they had gone by a different route from the one they had followed. This track did not lead in the direction of the stranded seaplane, so Wilmshurst conjectured that the Askaris had made straight for their main body, possibly with the intention of bringing men to recover the trophy.

Again the subaltern levelled his glasses and swept the skyline. Wending their way down a bare kloof were about two hundred armed blacks and three men in European garb riding in the centre of the column.

"MacGreg him dar, sah!" exclaimed Bela Moshi.

"Nonsense!" replied Wilmshurst, yet in his heart he was not at all sure but that the Haussa was right.

"MacGreg him make palaver with Bosh-bosh," declared the sergeant.

It was a contest between a pair of high-powered field glasses and the eyesight of a native. Vainly Wilmshurst wiped the lenses and looked and looked again without being able to satisfy himself that Bela Moshi's statement was correct.

"Here, you boy!" said the sergeant addressing Tari Barl. "You come here an' use yer eyes all one time quick. Say who am white man on der black horse."

"Me tink MacGreg him come," replied Tari Barl after a brief survey. "No; me no tink me know."

Wilmshurst waited inactive. Until the approaching hostile column had descended from the high ground and the men were deep in the bush, attempt on the part of the Haussas to advance from the ridge would result in the latter's detection. So, holding the men well under cover Wilmshurst kept the Huns under observation until it was safe to attempt a surprise.

Long before the extended line of troops had marched into the scrub-laden valley, the subaltern was forced to come to the conclusion that MacGregor was not only with the enemy, but obviously one of them. As the distance decreased he could make out the man's features, quite distinctly, and could see him talking volubly with the German officers on either side.

The Askaris were numerically far stronger than Wilmshurst's platoon, but the Haussas had a great advantage-that of being the surprising force. In bush fighting especially this is a decided advantage, since the closeness of the ground prevents the troops attacked knowing the number or disposition of their opponents, while the moral effect of a sudden rush of well-armed and disciplined men upon enemies practically unprepared for the onslaught cannot be under-estimated.

"MacGreg him make for maquisha," declared Bela Moshi grimly, as he carefully blacked the foresight of his rifle.

"Maquisha" in the Haussa language signifies something more than finished. A man might say, "I've finished eating," for example, and yet in a few hours he will be again satisfying his hunger, but "maquisha" signifies finished in the penultimate sense-the final extermination of a certain person or thing.

"No, no, Bela Moshi," said Wilmshurst decidedly. "We want MacGreg taken prisoner. That's important. Pass the word along; tell the men that there's a month's pay to the Haussa who takes MacGreg alive."

It was rather a tall order, and Wilmshurst knew it. MacGregor, now openly a traitor, would not be likely to surrender in view of the fact that a drum-head court-martial and an ignominious death in front of a firing-party would certainly be his fate.

Returning his field glasses and confidently snapping the lid of the case Wilmshurst gave the word to advance in open order. He had decided upon a position about two hundred yards short of the derelict aircraft, guessing that the still unsuspecting enemy would concentrate upon that objective, and thus form a compact and easy target for the Haussas' rifles.

Naturally concluding that the airmen had chosen the most open stretch of ground available for the purpose of making their landing, Wilmshurst found that his judgment was sound. Right in the centre of the valley the scrub was almost entirely absent, the ground being covered with grass little more than ankle deep in height and absolutely devoid of cover over a belt of nearly four hundred yards in width.

Up to a certain point the Huns showed caution, for presently two Askaris, pushing on ahead of the main body, came into view. That they expected no danger was apparent from the fact that they had their rifles slung. At the sight of the derelict seaplane they stood stock-still, for it was the first aircraft at rest that they had seen. Then bounding across the intervening stretch of grass they wandered round and round the machine, jabbering and pointing out to each other various parts of the aeroplane that particularly struck their attention.

The shrill blasts of a whistle diverted their thoughts into another direction. The officer in charge of the Askari column had signalled to the scouts to advance and examine the scrub beyond the place where the seaplane stood.

Like well-trained dogs the two native soldiers obeyed, and with their rifles still slung they hastened towards the position occupied by the alert Haussas, passing between two clumps of cacti behind which were hiding Tari Barl, No Go, Double-headed Penny and two more of No. 1 Section.

The Haussas let them pass. Unsuspicious the Askaris proceeded until their movements were hidden from their friends by the intervening scrub, then with hardly a sound the five lithe and muscular Waffs leapt upon them.

Before the startled men could even utter a gurgle they were lying flat on their backs, unable to move hand or foot, while a hand laid over their mouths and a keen-edged bayonet laid across their throats warned them that silence was the only alternative to sudden death.

Accepting the former choice the prisoners were bound and gagged, and taken a hundred yards or so into the bush, a Haussa mounting guard over them to make sure that the wily Askaris did not slip their bonds.

Wilmshurst's anxiety was now the thought that the main body would not emerge from the bush, since the two scouts were not able to signal that all was well. Several minutes passed, but still the German troops failed to debouch from the scrub.

A stealthy footstep behind him made the subaltern turn his head. To his surprise he saw Bela Moshi rigged out in the uniform and equipment of one of the captives.

"Me give Bosh-bosh de word 'Come on' one time quick, sah," he announced. "Me know how."

Wilmshurst did not think fit to enquire how the resourceful sergeant acquired the information. There are times when an officer does well not to question his subordinate's actions.

"Very good, carry on," he whispered.

Standing in a gap between two clumps of bushes Bela Moshi, grasping his rifle a few inches from the muzzle, held the weapon vertically above his head moving it to and fro five or six times.

The decoy signal was almost immediately answered by the appearance of the main body of the Askaris and with them the three Europeans, who were still mounted.

Wilmshurst let them approach until the foremost Askaris were within a hundred yards of the seaplane. They were now in no semblance of order, surging impetuously forward, their officers towering head and shoulders above the throng.

Sharp and shrill rang out the subaltern's whistle. A volley, crisp and clear, burst from the line of admirably concealed Haussas, then each man "let rip" as fast as he could withdraw, and thrust home the bolt of his rifle and bring the weapon to his shoulder.

It was such a tremendous surprise that for a moment the Askaris, save those who dropped, stood stock still. Then, panic-stricken, they broke and fled, the German officers setting them the example.

As the so-called MacGregor wheeled his horse Bela Moshi, who had withheld his fire, saw his opportunity. At five hundred yards he sent a bullet crashing through the devoted animal's head. Like a stone the horse dropped, throwing its rider to the earth.

By some means the dried grass took fire, the flames crackling and roaring as they spread with great rapidity, fortunately away from the broken-down seaplane. Through the whirling clouds of smoke could be faintly discerned the backs of the fugitives, many of whom dropped as they ran with a Haussa's bullet betwixt their shoulder blades, while remorselessly the devouring element made its way in the direction of the place where the traitor had fallen.

So complete was the demoralization of the foe that Wilmshurst had now no hesitation in ordering an advance at the double. Although the German levies still greatly outnumbered the Haussas the former had-in Tommy parlance-"the wind up properly," and numerical superiority no longer counted.

With fixed bayonets the platoon swept forward. Over the path of the fire the Haussas rushed, the still glowing embers failing to deter them, their bare feet notwithstanding. Yelling and shouting they pursued their foes, sweeping aside all isolated attempts at resistance, until the remnants of the hostile column were driven more than two miles from the scene of their surprise.

It took considerable efforts on the part of the non-commissioned officer to make the highly-elated Haussas desist from pursuit, but Wilmshurst knew too well the rashness of a prolonged chase through difficult country. Retiring, picking up wounded and prisoners as they went, the Waffs re-formed on arriving at the open belt of ground where the brilliant little victory had commenced.

By this time the scrub was well alight, fanned by the strong south-easterly breeze. The fire was also working against the wind, but the concerted efforts of the Haussas prevented it approaching the derelict aircraft.

In vain a search was made for the traitor who was known to the Haussas as MacGreg. His horse, surrounded by half a dozen badly-charred corpses, was discovered, but of the rider there were no signs. Reluctantly Wilmshurst was forced to come to the conclusion that fortune had favoured the recreant, and that under cover of the dense smoke the fellow had either crawled away or else had been carried by some of the Askaris.