fully armed, were waiting. The gunswere all ready to run out, and there was no talking save in whispers,and when any one had occasion to cross the deck he did it so lightlythat you could scarcely have heard his footfall.
Except the officers of the watch, all others were in the saloon orward-room. They too were armed, but passing the time in quietly playingdraughts and other games. Instead of being in his cabin, the captainwas there along with his officers.
Presently the boatswain, whose duty it was to keep one of thenight-watches, came quietly in to make a report.
"There are no signs yet, sir. The forest is quiet enough, except forthe birds and beasts. It is very bright now. If they do come, we willhave light enough to give 'em fits."
"I hope they will, then," replied the captain; "I sincerely trust thattall native wasn't a-gammoning us."
"I feel sure enough he wasn't, sir."
"Hark!" cried the captain.
It was the sentry's hail. Next moment his rifle rang out on the nightair. It seemed to be caught up by the echoes of the forest, and thesound multiplied indefinitely, but there was instant evidence that thiswas no echo.
A long line of fire swept across the forest shore, and bullets rattledthrough the rigging or on the vessel's sides.
The attack was about to commence.
Guns were speedily run out in the direction from which the volley hadcome, and just by way of showing the enemy that the _Niobe_ wasprepared, two loaded with shrapnel were fired.
The yell of rage and pain that rang through the forest, told plainlyenough that some of the savages had bitten the dust. The battle hadbegun.
But it was not to be a fight of rifle against big guns. The Arabs,unless at close quarters, are ever at disadvantage. The chief who ledthis particular band bore a fierce and implacable hatred to the Englishrace, more especially to those who wore the blue uniform of the RoyalNavy. Many a time had he been thwarted in his designs by the ubiquitousBritish cruiser, and, sword in hand, he had sworn by Allah--sworn on his"book"--to have revenge.
His time, it almost seemed, had come to-night. Though far south whenthe first news of the disaster to the _Niobe_ had been brought to him bya swift-footed Somali spy, Zareppa had lost no time in setting sail inhis largest dhow--he was the proud owner of many--and making his waynorth.
It was no trouble for this daring piratical slaver to cross the bar evenon a light wind. He had stolen up the river by night unseen, and soonafter planned his attack.
Now at the very moment that a whole fleet of canoes filled with armedSomalis and Arabs left the forest shore, under cover of volley aftervolley from the bush, Zareppa, the pirate chief, was stealing round thecorner of the bay with over a hundred of his best warriors, who werelying down so that they might not be seen, to attack the _Niobe_ on theother quarter.
Swiftly came they while guns thundered forestward, and all hands lay onthe port side to repel boarders. It looked as though the fate of thegood ship were sealed.
Till this moment the soldier sergeant--my father--had lain apparentlyhelpless and apathetic in a screen berth on the main deck. But thesound of warfare will stir the blood of even a dying soldier, as theblast of a bugle does that of the aged and worn-out war-horse. Nosooner had the firing commenced than he started from his cot andspeedily dressed himself, often tottering as he did so.
Captain Roberts tells me that even then my father could hardly haveknown what he was about: that all he could have been certain of was thata fight was going on, and it was his duty to be in it.
Grasping sword and pistol, he rushed on deck. Still staggering, andgazing wildly around him, almost the first thing he saw was the approachof Zareppa's boats. He was all alive now, he rushed across the deck,and more by gesture than by voice made the commander aware of theterrible danger.
None too soon. Already the heads of the foremost boarders wereappearing above the bulwarks. But our men were speedily divided intotwo parties, and in a minute more the battle was raging fiercely on bothsides of the deck.
"Deen! Deen! Deen!" was the fierce and shrill Arab war-cry.
"Hurrah! hurrah!" was the bold and answering shout of our marines andbluejackets.
The tall form of Zareppa seemed everywhere. It towered high on thebulwarks. It was seen springing down on deck, and vaulting backwards,and wherever it came death followed in its wake.
Soon no sound even of pistol was heard. It was a hand-to-hand fight_on_ deck, for the _Niobe_ had been boarded: hand to hand, and breast tobreast; cutlass and sword 'gainst Somali dagger and Arab spear. Therewere the shrieks of pain, the cries of exultation, and horrible oaths aswell, I blush to say, mingling with the groans of the dying in thisdreadful _melee_.
How peacefully the moon shone--how quiet and lovely and still the forestlooked all around! How great the contrast 'twixt man and nature!
But, see! the fight is finished. The enemy are borne backwards into thesea. Our fellows hack them down as they fly, for they are wild with theexcitement of the strife.
But high on the poop a young soldier is engaged in a deadly strife withthe Arab chief himself. All his skill would hardly save Zareppa. Forseveral minutes the duel seemed to rage. Then with a wild rash the Arabdashed forward on the soldier, his sword passed through his body and--myfather fell dead.
"English dogs!" shouted Zareppa, standing for a moment on the bulwarkswith bleeding sword upheld. "Dogs of English, Zareppa's day will come!Beware!"
He would have vaulted into the sea, but up from behind the very placewhere he stood rose a dark naked figure. A dagger gleamed one instantin its hand, and next was plunged into the back of the chief, who gave afearful shriek.
"Ha! ha! aha!" yelled this strange figure, "Zareppa's day _hab_ come.Plenty quick. Ha!"
The Arab chief fell face forward on the deck.
It was the negro Sweeba, who had brought the news of the intendedattack.
From his own side of the river he had heard the firing and the wildshouts that told of the raging combat, and had speedily launched hisrude canoe, intent on revenge for the murder of his poor wife and babes.
CHAPTER THREE.
"Hope, with her prizes and victories won, Shines in the blue of my morning sun, Conquering hope with golden ray, Blessing my landscape far away."
Tupper.
Not a single prisoner was taken.
Those who were not fatally wounded had sprung overboard.
The rest of the night passed in quietness, but when day broke, the sunshone on a sad and ghastly scene. There still lay about brokencutlasses, spears, torn pieces of cloth, and all the _debris_ of fight,and blood, blood everywhere.
On one side of the deck, with upturned faces, lay in ghastly array thedead of the enemy, on the other our own poor fellows had been put, andcarefully covered with flags.
All hands were summoned to prayers, to bury the dead and clear up decks.
When, after service, the commander and his officers--alas! among thosewho lay beneath the Union Jack were one or two officers--went round toview the bodies, to their astonishment, they found that Zareppa hadgone.
He had only shammed death, then, in order to escape!
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Incidents of the very saddest character are soon forgotten in theservice. It is as well it should be so. But a battle is no soonerfought than the decks are carefully washed, the damages all made good,and even rents and holes in the ship's side, that might well redound toher honour, are not only carefully repaired but painted over. Andwhenever a vessel has had sails torn in a gale of wind, sailors are putto mend them on the following day.
For modesty always goes hand-in-hand with true valour.
In a fortnight after the fight in the river the brave _Niobe_ was oncemore at sea, and looking all over as smart a craft as ever sailed.
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Just as I wrote these lines my good fri
end, Captain Roberts, looked overmy shoulder.
"Ay, lad," he said, "and she _was_ a smart craft too. They don't makesuch ships now, and they couldn't find the men to man 'em if they did.I tell you, Nie, it was a sight that used to make Frenchmen stare to seethe old _Niobe_ taking down top-gallant masts."
"Well, my dear old sea-dad," I replied, "of course you are fond of thegood old times. It is only natural you should be."
"But they _were_ times. Why, nowadays they could no more do the thingswe did than they could pitch a ball o' spun yarn 'twixt here andJericho. I'm right, lad, I tell you, and I should know."
"Oh!" I replied, "for the matter of that, I was living in those braveold days as well as yourself."
"Yes, so you were," cried the old captain, laughing. "You were borne onthe books o' the old _Niobe_ as well as myself, and a queer little chapyou were when first we met. Heigho! time flies: it's