A FIGHT TO THE DEATH

Waikato Argus, Volume VII, Issue 464, 22 July 1899, Page 1 (Supplement)

A FIGHT TO THE DEATH

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CHAPTER I. —WATCHING. The little band of red-coats wero, for the moment, in comparative safety where they had halted, in a curious, cup-shaped hollow, just below the crest of the pass. They certainly deserved a respite for the picket had been catching it hot enough ever sinco it had begun to retire.

Out of the thirty broad, smooth cheeked, white-helmeted soldier lads who had paraded that morning four had been left behind in the stillness of death ; seven more were helpless burdens upon their comrades shoulders and of the rest thero was scarcely one but had some mark of the day's amusement upon him. There were four miles, at the outside, from camp, and two from the spot where the hillmen, if they were quick enough in turning the cliasm to the left, would have a very fair chance of cutting off the whole party. True, there were no signs, as yet of any such tactics on the part of the enemy, but the morement might easily be executed without the retreating picket seeing any signs that it was in preparation. However, there was just timeso far as a rough calculation of distance would enable one to judge—to be forehand with their other pursuers at that critical point, still to insure the victory in that race for life, the slowest portion of the party —the wounded and their bearers —must go on at once. . So reasoned Neville Troyel, the young subaltern of barely four years standing, in command of the haidpressed little band, He was just giving orders for the wounded to be carried on, when he became conscious for the first time of a warm, moist feeling above his left hip, slowly spreading down his leg, which, coupled with a growing desire to sit or lie down, led him to the conclusion that he must have been hit and pretty hard hit, too —without noticing it, in the flurry and confusion of the last retirement.

His order was given, he sat down as calmly as he could, but he conld not long pass unobserved. A brief review of such medical knowledge as he possessed convinced him that a wound in such a spot was not improbably mortal. A still briefer survey of the surrounding circumstances told him that the fighting strength of his party could afford no further deductions. Five rifles—for the bearers of the wounded were necessarily usetoss—did nob afford very much fighting strength ; if he had to be carried also, it would mean knocking two off that, and the detachment's last chance would be gone. What chance would three men have of stopping a rush of fanatic swordmen)

For hi* own part, he was quite convinced of the necessity of dying where he was, and resigned himself to the prospect. Nevertheless, he realised that the rest of his party might not be inclined to accept hia view of the case, but might prefer to risk all their lives for, at best the empty *atisfaction of enabling him to die in camp. Discipline, he felt, could no longer avail him, but tact might still do more. CHAPTER II. —DANQHRHe unfolded hi* map and arranged it, with studied carelessness, to cover the tell-tale stains on jumper and breeches; then he threw all his strength into his voice, which none the less sounded strangely weak and husky. ' Now, sergeant, move on steadily with the rest, and don't stop for anything until you’re in camp. Leave Parkin and Wilmot with me, and we’ll knock spots out of the gentlemen behind. * Where am 1 to wait for you, sir ?’ asked the sergeant, saluting. ‘You’re not to wait. 1 shall probably hare to go over the cliff to look out on the flank, so I shan’t come along the track at all.’ * Beg pardon, sir,’ put in the noncom., ‘ but you ain’t fit to stay ; you’re wounded.’ ‘ Wounded, Morgan ! What makes you say so Y * Your voice, sir.’ ‘ What sort of voice do you expect me to have, after hollering through all that musketry to-day 1 But I’ve none to spare, so when I tell you to go on, please do it. Parkin, just peer over the bank and see if you can get a shot in.’ The sergeant, not quite certain that that weakness of hia officer’s voice was attributable to the alleged cause, gathered his little party together, and moved on, with one significant glance of appeal at Private Wilmot, Parkin having commenced his individual firing. But the glance was wasted, for Wilmot, though obviously not best pleased at the turn affairs had taken, was exchanging nods of farewell with his comrades of the rank and file.

' Now, Wilmot,' put in Troyte, 'see whether you or Parkin can shcot the straighter.' ' Olive-oil, you chapsies,' shouted Wilmot, turning back with that perversion of a French farewell, and climbing nimbly up beside Parkin.

Once comfortably settled, with only head and shoulders visible above the friendly bank, he commenced a monologue in somewhat ribald strains, punctuated by the Lee-Metford.

'lndividooal firing—at five'undred—at the blooming fool oo's climbing over the boulder. Kermence 1 Clipped 'im in the toe ! At six 'undred—at the nigger with a flag! Rick ! Helevation insufficient, as the copper said to the gent, who wasn't drunk enough to be run in. Try again, Miss! Why can't you stand to be 'it like a porper target, you cheat V and so on. Troyte was hopelessly perplexed by the question how much start he ought to allow the sergeant to render it absolutely out of the question for anyone to come back for him when they found ho was left behind.

To leave too small a margin might imperil the safety of the whole detachment; to allow too much would be tantamount to chucking away the lives of the two men with him ; yet the sergeant would never have allowed him to stay alone. He had, therefore, chosen his companions carefully, as the two men in his detatchment who would be least likely to obey his orders when he bade them leave him and follow the rest.

Parkin was a heavy-looking, sullen lad with no forehead to speak of and a compensating abundance of jowl, who resembled nothing so much as a convict escaping in a stolen uniform.

Wilmot was his opposite in almost every respect—a slight, weedy Cockney, the wag and scrapegrace of the company, whom Troyte had picked out because he had that day shown less taste for fighting and more inclination to gravitate towards the rear than any other member of the party. He would be sure to go, readily enough; while Parkin might be trusted not to originate any line of aotion for himself.

It was certain that the sergeant's party must be far enough ahead by this tine.

‘ JBull’s-eye !’ cried Wilmot triumphantly, as an incautious tribesman who had ventured too far into the open dropped his jazzail and pitched over on to his back then, bursting into a paen of victory ‘ If you only stick to it you are sure to hit, for every bullet ’as its billet.' 1 Now, then, my tads, it’s time you were off.’ Troyte was horrified to find how weak his voice had grown. Still, it reached Wilmot, the nearer of the two privates. He slithered down the bank, and deftly found his feet at the bottom. Parkin still went on loading and firing. ‘ All right, Mr Troyte, sir,’ answered Wilmob, ‘ show us the way.’ ‘ I’m going to follow you.’ ‘ Poller us ! That be blowed for a tale, sir ! Beg pardon, but you can’t stand, sir.’ ‘ I’m all right, you fool! Off you go!’ ‘ Very well, obey it at once !’ Wilmot turned his head, in the act of loading, to cast one look down the valley towards friends and safety, and another at hia officer’s recumbent form, turned back again closed his breech, and raised hia rifle to take aim. ‘At once! Do you hear V Wilmot pulled the trigger before answering. 1 It can’t be done air,’ 1 Don’t be a blistered fool! Are you going to do as you're told T ‘ What’s the row T growled Parkin, Mr Troyte wants us to leave ’im,’ said Wilmot; ‘ but wr ain’t a-going to—not much !’ ‘ Not much !’ echoed Parkin, jerking a used cartridge case behind him. ‘ Leastwise,’ amended Wilmot, ‘ cause arter all, discipline is discipline, not till we’ve seen ’ira steady on ’is pins.’ Troyte collected all his strength and struggled to his feet, but almost immediately his logs seemed to curl up underneath him, and he went down like a pack of cards. *As I thought,’ said Wilmot, slipping down the bank again. ‘ Ere’s a pretty state of things. He gripped the wounded officer and raised him but only by exerting all his strength Troyte was a solid twelve stone, even when stripped ; Wilmot was as near the minimum of height and chest measurement as any man in the army. 'Lord, I might as well try to cary the Tower bridge. This is a job for Sandow, this is. Do you think you could cart him along, Jowlerl’ ‘Keep off these niggers for a minute, Joey, and I’ll try.’ Wilmot kept up the fire, while Parkin experimented, rather to his officer’s discomfort ; then he delivered his verdict.— ‘ ’E’s a full load for the pair of us,’ 1 Yery well, Jowlor, if it must be it must; only if them niggers,’ briefly indicating their lineage, character, and prospects in a future life in phrases that may be omitted, • tries to rush us, strike me they’ll have a walk over.’ Troyte had not protested during the weight-lifting experiments, as his exertions and his fall had dazed him for the time, now he rose up on to his elbow and spoke. ‘ Look here, you two ; don’t be infernal idiots. I’m done, I know, but I don’t want your blood on my

head, so I'm not going to let you stay. I've got my revolver still, and if you so much as offer to carry me I'll put a bullet through my own head. Now go.' There wae a pause. Three or four bullets screeched overhead, as many splashed on the stones round ; then Wilmot answered.

' I don't know as you ain't right, sir. The bullet 'ull make you so much the heavier of course, but if you're dead you'll be less trouble to carry, 'cause we shan't have to bo particular which side up we carry you.' CHAPTER 111. DEFYING ORDKRS. Wilmot looked at his officer, looksd at his comrade, looked at the rugged cliffs that closed them in as if crowing to see how a British ' Tommy ' would face the emergency then he opened hid mouth and closed it with a snap, climbed up the bank again and re-opened fire. •Wilmot, do you hear my order V

' I did, sir.' He grinned in appreciation of his ghastly humour. 'But make up your mind to this, sir ; alive or dead, you go back with us, as far as we can get.' Troyte ground his teeth in impotent revolt. ' Look here, you fellows, I'm not joking. I'll give you two minutes to clear; if you ain't gone by then I fire.' Half the time passed slowly; Parkin had resumed his position for firing. The enemy's bullets screeched and whistled faster, and splashed nearer at hand. Suddenly Wilmot came down the bank like an avalanche, and swung his riflebubt against the wounded officer's elbow, forcing him to unclasp and drop his revolver, which the soldier promptly kicked out of his reach, careless that one barrel exploded in the process. ' Now I've done it—struck my officer! So, if the nigjers don't shoot me our own chaps will. Sorry, sir, but we mustn't allow those brutes to find their work done for them.'

CHAPTER IV.—TO THE DEATH

Parkin übfered an inarticulate cry of warning. Four of the hillsmen, having worked up to within fifty paces, had seen Wilmot's helmet disappear, and calculated that the time had come for a rush.

Parkin emptied his magizine at them, stopped one with a Dum-dum bullet, another tripped and fell, thought better of it while on the ground, and crawled back to cover. The two others now appeared at the top of the bank. Wilmot fired point-blank at one, who pitched forward on Troyte's legs, with a ghastly wound on his forehead. The other cut at Parkin, who slithered down the bank, so that the blade missed him by inches. The striker overbalanced himself, and, while he was still swaying on the edge, the two Englishmen leapt up at him like tigers, and the dagger-shaped blades of the LeeMetford bayoue's clashed together in his body. 1 Not as that 'ull do any lasting good,' growled Wilmot, as he composed himself to resume firing. ' Ow many more rounds, Jowler?' ' About fifteen, Joey,' re-charging his magazine. • Thirteen 'ere, Jowler; it's a pity to waste 'em ;' and he lowered his rifle from his shoulder.

Troyte mast have fainted about this time, for the next thing ho was conscious of was Wilraot’s singing, ‘ Thank Gawd, like a soldier, my gallant boy died—that’s ’ow’e received the news.’ ' Oh, dry up your row !’ growled Parkin; but Wilmot had stopped, almost before his comrade spoke—had stopped and remained silent, dropping his head forward on to the back-sight of his loaded rifle. Two or three moments passed, and he neither sang nor spoke. Parkin was puzzled ; he called his chum by name, but received no answer; he stretched out his hand and touched him. Wilmot rolled away, unresistingly, and disclosed his face. Parkin uttered a cry; then, snatching at Wilmot’s pouch, drew out his few remaining cartridges and began firing, wildly and rapidly, to his front. Meanwhile, some of the enemy had got across to the other side of the river, and were well in rear of his position. Their shooting was at first so wild that Parkin did not realise their presence, though, lying as he did with his whole body exposed to their fire—a fair mark against the darker bank—he was bound to do so before long. He had still six cartridges unexpended, when, shot through the loins, he fell over backwards, writhing and gasping and clutching at empty air; yet, even in his mortal agony, # he mastered himself enough to blaze away his magazine into the sky, determined that those cartridges at least should never be used against his comrades. Troyte, contrary to all expectation the survivor of the three, gazed at the ghastly death-struggle with uncomprehending eyes—he seemed to lose the power to understand anything—he forgot how near at hand his own end must be—forgot even that the dead Wilmot had robbed him of his last resource, the revolver —forgot to be thankful, or even surprised, when just at that moment hurried footsteps approached, and a voice, -strangely

like Bennet's of the Guides, sounded in his ear.

After that he knew nothing more till nearly x week later, when he awoke to consciousness in the fieldhospital. By the merest chance, Bennr-t, with a party of Guides who had missed their way, had stumbled across the poor remnant of Troyttr's party, and had started back in hot haste to rescue the officer and his two companions, arriving just in time to save him but too late, for his faithful body-guard. Troyte's wound proved dangerous, but not mortal, though ho all but

fretted himself into a fever over the fate of Parkin and Wilmot, for which he held himself morally responsible. ' And so he was,' said Bennet, who had heard and loved to retail the whole story, c though I wouldn't let the poor old fellow think that I thought so for the world. 'He meant well, but he showed a sad want of intelligence. Surely it doesn't need four years' service to teach a chap that, if you want to find a couple of Tommies who'll obey orders when they're told to leave a wounded comrade to the enemy and slope, you must have a lot to pick from and pick very carefully, and even then I wouldn't mind laying long odds that the men you will pick will disappoint you, just as that couple did Troyte.'