When Jack1 Conolly, of the Irish Shotgun Brigade, the Rory of the Hills Inner Circle, and the extreme left wing of the Land League, was incontinently shot by Sergeant2 Murdoch of the constabulary, in a little moonlight frolic near Kanturk, his twin-brother Dennis joined the British Army. The countryside had become too hot for him; and, as the seventy-five shillings were wanting which might have carried him to America, he took the only way handy of getting himself out of the way. Seldom has Her Majesty3 had a less promising4 recruit, for his hot Celtic blood seethed5 with hatred6 against Britain and all things British. The sergeant, however, smiling complacently7 over his 6 ft. of brawn8 and his 44 in. chest, whisked him off with a dozen other of the boys to the depot9 at Fermoy, whence in a few weeks they were sent on, with the spade-work kinks taken out of their backs, to the first battalion10 of the Royal Mallows, at the top of the roster11 for foreign service.
The Royal Mallows, at about that date, were as strange a lot of men as ever were paid by a great empire to fight its battles. It was the darkest hour of the land struggle, when the one side came out with crow-bar and battering-ram by day, and the other with mask and with shot-gun by night. Men driven from their homes and potato-patches found their way even into the service of the Government, to which it seemed to them that they owed their troubles, and now and then they did wild things before they came. There were recruits in the Irish regiments12 who would forget to answer to their own names, so short had been their acquaintance with them. Of these the Royal Mallows had their full share; and, while they still retained their fame as being one of the smartest corps14 in the army, no one knew better than their officers that they were dry-rotted with treason and with bitter hatred of the flag under which they served.
And the centre of all the disaffection was C Company, in which Dennis Conolly found himself enrolled15. They were Celts, Catholics, and men of the tenant16 class to a man; and their whole experience of the British Government had been an inexorable landlord, and a constabulary who seemed to them to be always on the side of the rent-collector. Dennis was not the only moonlighter in the ranks, nor was he alone in having an intolerable family blood-feud to harden his heart. Savagery18 had begotten19 savagery in that veiled civil war. A landlord with an iron mortgage weighing down upon him had small bowels20 for his tenantry. He did but take what the law allowed, and yet, with men like Jim Holan, or Patrick McQuire, or Peter Flynn, who had seen the roofs torn from their cottages and their folk huddled21 among their pitiable furniture upon the roadside, it was ill to argue about abstract law. What matter that in that long and bitter struggle there was many another outrage23 on the part of the tenant, and many another grievance24 on the side of the landowner! A stricken man can only feel his own wound, and the rank and file of the C Company of the Royal Mallows were sore and savage17 to the soul. There were low whisperings in barrack-rooms and canteens, stealthy meetings in public-house parlours, bandying of passwords from mouth to mouth, and many other signs which made their officers right glad when the order came which sent them to foreign, and better still, to active service.
For Irish regiments have before now been disaffected25, and have at a distance looked upon the foe26 as though he might, in truth, be the friend; but when they have been put face on to him, and when their officers have dashed to the front with a wave and halloo, those rebel hearts have softened27 and their gallant28 Celtic blood has boiled with the mad Joy of the fight, until the slower Britons have marvelled29 that they ever could have doubted the loyalty30 of their Irish comrades. So it would be again, according to the officers, and so it would not be if Dennis Conolly and a few others could have their way.
It was a March morning upon the eastern fringe of the Nubian desert. The sun had not yet risen, but a tinge31 of pink flushed up as far as the cloudless zenith, and the long strip of sea lay like a rosy32 ribbon across the horizon. From the coast inland stretched dreary33 sand-plains, dotted over with thick clumps35 at mimosa scrub and mottled patches of thorny36 bush. No tree broke the monotony of that vast desert. The dull, dusty hue37 of the thickets38, and the yellow glare of the sand, were the only colours, save at one point, where, from a distance, it seemed that a land-slip of snow-white stones had shot itself across a low foot-hill. But as the traveller approached he saw, with a thrill, that these were no stones, but the bleaching39 bones of a slaughtered41 army. With its dull tints43, its gnarled, viprous bushes, its arid44, barren soil, and this death streak45 trailed across it, it was indeed a nightmare country.
Some eight or ten miles inland the rolling plain curved upwards46 with a steeper slope until it ran into a line of red basaltic rock which zigzagged47 from north to south, heaping itself up at one point into a fantastic knoll48. On the summit of this there stood upon that March morning three Arab chieftains — the Sheik Kadra of the Hadendowas, Moussa Wad Aburhegel, who led the Berber dervishes, and Hamid Wad Hussein, who had come northward49 with his fighting men from the land of the Baggaras. They had all three just risen from their praying-carpets, and were peering out, with fierce, high-nosed faces thrust forwards, at the stretch of country revealed by the spreading dawn.
The red rim50 of the sun was pushing itself now above the distant sea, and the whole coast-line stood out brilliantly yellow against the rich deep blue beyond. At one spot lay a huddle22 of white-walled houses, a mere51 splotch in the distance; while four tiny cock-boats, which lay beyond, marked the position of three of Her Majesty’s 10,000-ton troopers and the admiral’s flagship. But it was not upon the distant town, nor upon the great vessels52, nor yet upon the sinister53 white litter which gleamed in the plain beneath them, that the Arab chieftains gazed. Two miles from where they stood, amid the sand-hills and the mimosa scrub, a great parallelogram had been marked by piled-up bushes. From the inside of this dozens of tiny blue smoke-reeks curled up into the still morning air; while there rose from it a confused deep murmur54, the voices of men and the gruntings of camels blended into the same insect buzz.
“The unbelievers have cooked their morning food,” said the Baggara chief, shading his eyes with his tawny56, sinewy57 hand. “Truly their sleep has been scanty58; for Hamid and a hundred of his men have fired upon them since the rising of the moon.”
“So it was with these others,” answered the Sheik Kadra, pointing with his sheathed59 sword towards the old battle-field. “They also had a day of little water and a night of little rest, and the heart was gone out of them ere ever the sons of the Prophet had looked them in the eyes. This blade drank deep that day, and will again before the sun has travelled from the sea to the hill.”
“And yet these are other men,” remarked the Berber dervish. “Well, I know that Allah has placed them in the clutch of our fingers, yet it may be that they with the big hats will stand firmer than the cursed men of Egypt.”
“Pray Allah that it may be so,” cried the fierce Baggara, with a flash of his black eyes. “It was not to chase women that I brought 700 men from the river to the coast. See, my brother, already they are forming their array.”
A fanfare60 of bugle-calls burst from the distant camp. At the same time the bank of bushes at one side had been thrown or trampled61 down, and the little army within began to move slowly out on to the plain. Once clear of the camp they halted, and the slant62 rays of the sun struck flashes from bayonet and from gun-barrel as the ranks closed up until the big pith helmets joined into a single long white ribbon. Two streaks63 of scarlet64 glowed on either side of the square, but elsewhere the fringe of fighting-men was of the dull yellow khaki tint42 which hardly shows against the desert sand. Inside their array was a dense65 mass of camels and mules67 bearing stores and ambulance needs. Outside a twinkling clump34 of cavalry68 was drawn69 up on each flank, and in front a thin, scattered70 line of mounted infantry71 was already slowly advancing over the bush-strewn plain, halting on every eminence72, and peering warily73 round as men might who have to pick their steps among the bones of those who have preceded them.
The three chieftains still lingered upon the knoll, looking down with hungry eyes and compressed lips at the dark steel-tipped patch. “They are slower to start than the men of Egypt,” the Sheik of the Hadendowas growled74 in his beard.
“Slower also to go back, perchance, my brother,” murmured the dervish.
“And yet they are not many — 3,000 at the most.”
“And we 10,000, with the Prophet’s grip upon our spear-hafts and his words upon our banner. See to their chieftain, how he rides upon the right and looks up at us with the glass that sees from afar! It may be that he sees this also.” The Arab shook his sword at the small clump of horsemen who had spurred out from the square.
“Lo! he beckons,” cried the dervish; “and see those others at the corner, how they bend and heave. Ha! by the Prophet, I had thought it.” As he spoke75, a little woolly puff76 of smoke spurted77 up at the corner of the square, and a 7 lb. shell burst with a hard metallic78 smack79 just over their heads. The splinters knocked chips from the red rocks around them.
“Bismillah!” cried the Hadendowa; “if the gun can carry thus far, then ours can answer to it. Ride to the left, Moussa, and tell Ben Ali to cut the skin from the Egyptians if they cannot hit yonder mark. And you, Hamid, to the right, and see that 3,000 men lie close in the wady that we have chosen. Let the others beat the drum and show the banner of the Prophet, for by the black stone their spears will have drunk deep ere they look upon the stars again.”
A long, straggling, boulder-strewn plateau lay on the summit of the red hills, sloping very precipitously to the plain, save at one point, where a winding80 gully curved downwards81, its mouth choked with sand-mounds and olive-hued scrub. Along the edge of this position lay the Arab host — a motley crew of shock-headed desert clansmen, fierce predatory slave dealers82 of the interior, and wild dervishes from the Upper Nile, all blent together by their common fearlessness and fanaticism83. Two races were there, as wide as the poles apart — the thin-lipped, straight-haired Arab and the thick-lipped, curly negro — yet the faith of Islam had bound them closer than a blood tie. Squatting84 among the rocks, or lying thickly in the shadow, they peered out at the slow-moving square beneath them, while women with water-skins and bags of dhoora fluttered from group to group, calling out to each other those fighting texts from the Koran which in the hour of battle are maddening as wine to the true believer. A score of banners waved over the ragged85, valiant86 crew, and among them, upon desert horses and white Bishareen camels, were the Emirs and Sheiks who were to lead them against the infidels.
As the Sheik Kadra sprang into his saddle and drew his sword there was a wild whoop87 and a clatter88 of waving spears, while the one-ended war-drums burst into a dull crash like a wave upon shingle89. For a moment 10,000 men were up on the rocks with brandished90 arms and leaping figures; the next they were under cover again, waiting sternly and silently for their chieftain’s orders. The square was less than half a mile from the ridge91 now, and shell after shell from the 7 lb. guns were pitching over it. A deep roar on the right, and then a second one showed that the Egyptian Krupps were in action. Sheik Kadra’s hawk92 eyes saw that the shells burst far beyond the mark, and he spurred his horse along to where a knot of mounted chiefs were gathered round the two guns, which were served by their captured crews.
“How is this, Ben Ali?” he cried. “It was not thus that the dogs fired when it was their own brothers in faith at whom they aimed!”
A chieftain reined93 his horse back, and thrust a blood-smeared sword into its sheath. Beside him two Egyptian artillerymen with their throats cut were sobbing95 out their lives upon the ground. “Who lays the gun this time?” asked the fierce chief, glaring at the frightened gunners.” Here, thou black-browed child of Shaitan, aim, and aim for thy life.”
It may have been chance, or it may have been skill, but the third and fourth shells burst over the square. Sheik Kadra smiled grimly and galloped96 back to the left, where his spearmen were streaming down into the gully. As he joined them a deep growling97 rose from the plain beneath, like the snarling98 of a sullen99 wild beast, and a little knot of tribesmen fell into a struggling heap, caught in the blast of lead from a Gardner. Their comrades pressed on over them, and sprang down into the ravine. From all along the crest100 burst the hard, sharp crackle of Remington fire.
The square had slowly advanced, rippling102 over the low sandhills, and halting every few minutes to re-arrange its formation. Now, having made sure that there was no force of the enemy in the scrub, it changed its direction, and began to take a line parallel to the Arab position. It was too steep to assail103 from the front, and if they moved far enough to the right the general hoped that he might turn it. On the top of those ruddy hills lay a baronetcy for him, and a few extra hundreds in his pension, and he meant having them both that day. The Remington fire was annoying, and so were those two Krupp guns; already there were more cacolets full than he cared to see. But on the whole he thought it better to hold his fire until he had more to aim at than a few hundred of fuzzy heads peeping over a razor-back ridge. He was a bulky, red-faced man, a fine whist-player, and a soldier who knew his work. His men believed in him, and he had good reason to believe in them, for he had excellent stuff under him that day. Being an ardent104 champion of the short-service system, he took particular care to work with veteran first battalions105, and his little force was the compressed essence of an army corps.
The left front of the square was formed by four companies of the Royal Wessex, and the right by four of the Royal Mallows. On either side the other halves of the same regiments marched in quarter column of companies. Behind them, on the right was a battalion of Guards, and on the left one of Marines, while the rear was closed in by a Rifle battalion. Two Royal Artillery94 7 lb. screw-guns kept pace with the square, and a dozen white-bloused sailors, under their blue-coated, tight-waisted officers, trailed their Gardner in front, turning every now and then to spit up at the draggled banners which waved over the cragged ridge. Hussars and Lancers scouted106 in the scrub at each side, and within moved the clump of camels, with humorous eyes and supercilious107 lips, their comic faces a contrast to the blood-stained men who already lay huddled in the cacolets on either side.
The square was now moving slowly on a line parallel with the rocks, stopping every few minutes to pick up wounded, and to allow the screw-guns and Gardner to make themselves felt. The men looked serious, for that spring on to the rocks of the Arab army had given them a vague glimpse of the number and ferocity of their foes108; but their faces were set like stone, for they knew to a man that they must win or they must die — and die, too, in a particularly unlovely fashion. But most serious of all was the general, for he had seen that which brought a flush to his cheeks and a frown to his brow.
“I say, Stephen,” said he to his galloper109, “those Mallows seem a trifle jumpy. The right flank company bulged110 a bit when the niggers showed on the hill.”
“Youngest troops in the square, sir,” murmured the aide, looking at them critically through his eye-glass.
“Tell Colonel Flanagan to see to it, Stephen,” said the general; and the galloper sped upon his way. The colonel, a fine old Celtic warrior111, was over at C Company in an instant.
“How are the men, Captain Foley?”
“Never better, sir,” answered the senior captain, in the spirit that makes a Madras officer look murder if you suggest recruiting his regiment13 from the Punjab.
“Stiffen112 them up!” cried the colonel. As he rode away a colour-sergeant seemed to trip, and fell forward into a mimosa bush. He made no effort to rise, but lay in a heap among the thorns.
“Sergeant O’Rooke’s gone, sorr,” cried a voice. “Never mind, lads,” said Captain Foley. “He’s died like a soldier, fighting for his Queen.”
“Down with the Queen!” shouted a hoarse113 voice from the ranks.
But the roar of the Gardner and the typewriter-like clicking of the hopper burst in at the tail of the words. Captain Foley heard them, and Subalterns Grice and Murphy heard them; but there are times when a deaf ear is a gift from the gods.
“Steady, Mallows!” cried the captain, in a pause of the grunting55 machine-gun. “We have the honour of Ireland to guard this day.”
“And well we know how to guard it, captin!” cried the same ominous114 voice; and there was a buzz from the length of the company.
The captain and the two subs. came together behind the marching line.
“They seem a bit out of hand,” murmured the captain.
“Bedad,” said the Galway boy, “they mean to scoot like redshanks.”
“They nearly broke when the blacks showed on the hill,” said Grice.
“The first man that turns, my sword is through him,” cried Foley, loud enough to be heard by five files on either side of him. Then, in a lower voice, “It’s a bitter drop to swallow, but it’s my duty to report what you think to the chief, and have a company of Jollies put behind us.” He turned away with the safety of the square upon his mind, and before he had reached his goal the square had ceased to exist.
In their march in front of what looked like a face of cliff, they had come opposite to the mouth of the gully, in which, screened by scrub and boulders115, 3,000 chosen dervishes, under Hamid Wad Hussein, of the Baggaras, were crouching116. Tat, tat, tat, went the rifles of three mounted infantrymen in front of the left shoulder of the square, and an instant later they wore spurring it for their lives, crouching over the manes of their horses, and pelting117 over the sandhills with thirty or forty galloping118 chieftains at their heels. Rocks and scrub and mimosa swarmed119 suddenly into life. Rushing black figures came and went in the gaps of the bushes. A howl that drowned the shouts of the officers, a long quavering yell, burst from the ambuscade. Two rolling volleys from the Royal Wessex, one crash from the screw-gun firing shrapnel, and then before a second cartridge120 could be rammed121 in, a living, glistening122 black wave, tipped with steel, had rolled over the gun, the Royal Wessex had been dashed back among the camels, and 1,000 fanatics123 were hewing124 and hacking125 in the heart of what had been the square.
The camels and mules in the centre, jammed more and more together as their leaders flinched126 from the rush of the tribesmen, shut out the view of the other three faces, who could only tell that the Arabs had got in by the yells upon Allah, which rose ever nearer and nearer amid the clouds of sand-dust, the struggling animals, and the dense mass of swaying, cursing men. Some of the Wessex fired back at the Arabs who had passed them, as excited Tommies will, and it is whispered among doctors that it was not always a Remington bullet which was cut from a wound that day. Some rallied in little knots, stabbing furiously with their bayonets at the rushing spearmen. Others turned at bay with their backs against the camels, and others round the general and his staff, who, revolver in hand, had flung themselves into the heart of it. But the whole square was sidling slowly away from the gorge127, pushed back by the pressure at the shattered corner.
The officers and men at the other faces were glancing nervously128 to the rear, uncertain what was going on, and unable to take help to their comrades without breaking the formation.
“By Jove, they’ve got through the Wessex!” cried Grice of the Mallows.
“The divils have hurrooshed us, Ted,” said his brother subaltern, cocking his revolver.
The ranks were breaking, and crowding towards Private Conolly, all talking together as the officers peered back through the veil of dust. The sailors had run their Gardner out, and she was squirting death out of her five barrels into the flank of the rushing stream of savages129. “Oh, this bloody130 gun!” shouted a voice. “She’s jammed again.” The fierce metallic grunting had ceased, and her crew were straining and hauling at the breech.
“This damned vertical131 feed!” cried an officer.
“The spanner, Wilson!— the spanner! Stand to your cutlasses, boys, or they’re into us.” His voice rose into a shriek132 as he ended, for a shovel-headed spear had been buried in his chest. A second wave of dervishes lapped over the hillocks, and burst upon the machine-gun and the right front of the line. The sailors were overborne in an instant, but the Mallows, with their fighting blood aflame, met the yell of the Moslem133 with an even wilder, fiercer cry, and dropped two hundred of them with a single point-blank volley. The howling, leaping crew swerved134 away to the right, and dashed on into the gap which had already been made for them.
But C Company had drawn no trigger to stop that fiery135 rush. The men leaned moodily136 upon their Martinis. Some had even thrown them upon the ground. Conolly was talking fiercely to those about him. Captain Foley, thrusting his way through the press, rushed up to him with a revolver in his hand.
“This is your doing, you villain137!” he cried.
“If you raise your pistol, Captin, your brains will be over your coat,” said a low voice at his side.
He saw that several rifles were turned on him. The two subs. had pressed forward, and were by his side. “What is it, then?” he cried, looking round from one fierce mutinous138 face to another. “Are you Irishmen? Are you soldiers? What are you here for but to fight for your country?”
“England is no country of ours,” cried several.
“You are not fighting for England. You are fighting for Ireland, and for the Empire of which it as part.”
“A black curse on the Impire!” shouted Private McQuire, throwing down his rifle. “’Twas the Impire that backed the man that druv me onto the roadside. May me hand stiffen before I draw trigger for it.
“What’s the Impire to us, Captain Foley, and what’s the Widdy to us ayther?” cried a voice.
“Let the constabulary foight for her.”
“Ay, be God, they’d be better imployed than pullin’ a poor man’s thatch139 about his ears.”
“Or shootin’ his brother, as they did mine.”
“It was the Impire laid my groanin’ mother by the wayside. Her son will rot before he upholds it, and ye can put that in the charge-sheet in the next coort-martial.”
In vain the three officers begged, menaced, persuaded. The square was still moving, ever moving, with the same bloody fight raging in its entrails. Even while they had been speaking they had been shuffling140 backwards141, and the useless Gardner, with her slaughtered crew, was already a good hundred yards from them. And the pace was accelerating. The mass of men, tormented143 and writhing144, was trying, by a common instinct, to reach some clearer ground where they could re-form. Three faces were still intact, but the fourth had been caved in, and badly mauled, without its comrades being able to help it. The Guards had met a fresh rush of the Hadendowas, and had blown back the tribesmen with a volley, and the cavalry had ridden over another stream of them, as they welled out of the gully. A litter of hamstrung horses, and haggled145 men behind them, showed that a spearman on his face among the bushes can show some sport to the man who charges him. But, in spite of all, the square was still reeling swiftly backwards, trying to shake itself clear of this torment142 which clung to its heart. Would it break or would it re-form? The lives of five regiments and the honour of the flag hung upon the answer.
Some, at least, were breaking. The C Company of the Mallows had lost all military order, and was pushing back in spite of the haggard officers, who cursed, and shoved, and prayed in the vain attempt to hold them. The captain and the subs. were elbowed and jostled, while the men crowded towards Private Conolly for their orders. The confusion had not spread, for the other companies, in the dust and smoke and turmoil146, had lost touch with their mutinous comrades. Captain Foley saw that even now there might be time to avert147 a disaster. “Think what you are doing, man,” he yelled, rushing towards the ringleader. “There are a thousand Irish in the square, and they are dead men if we break.”
The words alone might have had little effect on the old moonlighter. It is possible that, in his scheming brain, he had already planned how he was to club his Irish together and lead them to the sea. But at that moment the Arabs broke through the screen of camels which had fended148 them off. There was a Struggle, a screaming, a mule66 rolled over, a wounded man sprang up in a cacolet with a spear through him, and then through the narrow gap surged a stream of naked savages, mad with battle, drunk with slaughter40, spotted149 and splashed with blood — blood dripping from their spears, their arms, their faces. Their yells, their bounds, their crouching, darting150 figures, the horrid151 energy of their spear-thrusts, made them look like a blast of fiends from the pit. And were these the Allies of Ireland? Were these the men who were to strike for her against her enemies? Conolly’s soul rose up in loathing152 at the thought.
He was a man of firm purpose, and yet at the first sight of those howling fiends that purpose faltered153, and at the second it was blown to the winds. He saw a huge coal-black negro seize a shrieking154 camel-driver and saw at his throat with a knife. He saw a shock-headed tribesman plunge155 his great spear through the back of their own little bugler156 from Mill-street. He saw a dozen deeds of blood — the murder of the wounded, the hacking of the unarmed — and caught, too, in a glance, the good wholesome157 faces of the faced-about rear rank of the Marines. The Mallows, too, had faced about, and in an instant Conolly had thrown himself into the heart of C Company, striving with the officers to form the men up with their comrades.
But the mischief158 had gone too far. The rank and file had no heart in their work. They had broken before, and this last rush of murderous savages was a hard thing for broken men to stand against. They flinched from the furious faces and dripping forearms. Why should they throw away their lives for a flag for which they cared nothing? Why should their leader urge them to break, and now shriek to them to re-form? They would not re-form. They wanted to get to the sea and to safety. He flung himself among them with outstretched arms, with words of reason, with shouts, with gaspings. It was useless; the tide was beyond his control. They were shredding159 out into the desert with their faces set for the coast.
“Bhoys, will ye stand for this?” screamed a voice. It was so ringing, so strenuous160, that the breaking Mallows glanced backwards. They were held by what they saw. Private Conolly had planted his rifle-stock downwards in a mimosa bush. From the fixed161 bayonet there fluttered a little green flag with the crownless harp101. God knows for what black mutiny, for what signal of revolt, that flag had been treasured up within the corporal’s tunic162! Now its green wisp stood amid the rush, while three proud regimental colours were reeling slowly backwards.
“What for the flag?” yelled the private.
“My heart’s blood for it! and mine! and mine!” cried a score of voices. “God bless it! The flag, boys — the flag!”
C Company were rallying upon it. The stragglers clutched at each other, and pointed163. “Here, McQuire, Flynn, O’Hara,” ran the shoutings. “Close on the flag! Back to the flag!” The three standards reeled backwards, and the seething164 square strove for a clearer space where they could form their shattered ranks; but C Company, grim and powder-stained, choked with enemies and falling fast, still closed in on the little rebel ensign that flapped from the mimosa bush.
It was a good half-hour before the square, having disentangled itself from its difficulties and dressed its ranks, began to slowly move forwards over the ground, across which in its labour and anguish165 it had been driven. The long trail of Wessex men and Arabs showed but too clearly the path they had come.
“How many got into us, Stephen?” asked the general, tapping his snuff-box.
“I should put them down at a thousand or twelve hundred, sir.”
“I did not see any get out again. What the devil were the Wessex thinking about? The Guards stood well, though; so did the Mallows.”
“Colonel Flanagan reports that his front flank company was cut off, sir.”
“Why, that’s the company that was out of hand when we advanced!”
“Colonel Flanagan reports, sir, that the company took the whole brunt of the attack, and gave the square time to re-form.”
“Tell the Hussars to ride forward, Stephen,” said the general, “and try if they can see anything of them. There’s no firing, and I fear that the Mallows will want to do some recruiting. Let the square take ground by the right, and then advance!”
But the Sheik Kadra of the Hadendowas saw from his knoll that the men with the big hats had rallied, and that they were coming back in the quiet business fashion of men whose work was before them. He took counsel with Moussa the Dervish and Hussein the Baggara, and a woestruck man was he when he learned that the third of his men were safe in the Moslem Paradise. So, having still some signs of victory to show, he gave the word, and the desert warriors166 flitted off unseen and unheard, even as they had come.
A red rock plateau, a few hundred spears and Remingtons, and a plain which for the second time was strewn with slaughtered men, was all that his day’s fighting gave to the English general.
It was a squadron of Hussars which came first to the spot where the rebel flag had waved. A dense litter of Arab dead marked the place. Within, the flag waved no longer, but the rifle stood in the mimosa bush, and round it, with their wounds in front, lay the Fenian private and the silent ranks of the Irishry. Sentiment is not an English failing, but the Hussar captain raised his hilt in a salute167 as he rode past the blood-soaked ring.
The British general sent home dispatches to his Government, and so did the chief of the Hadendowas, though the style and manner differed somewhat in each.
The Sheik Kadra of the Hadendowa people to Mohammed Ahmed, the chosen of Allah, homage168 and greeting, (began the latter). Know by this that on the fourth day of this moon we gave battle to the Kaffirs who call themselves Inglees, having with us the Chief Hussein with ten thousand of the faithful. By the blessing169 of Allah we have broken them, and chased them for a mile, though indeed these infidels are different from the dogs of Egypt, and have slain170 very many of our men. Yet we hope to smite171 them again ere the new moon be come, to which end I trust that thou wilt172 send us a thousand Dervishes from Omdurman. In token of our victory I send you by this messenger a flag which we have taken. By the colour it might well seem to have belonged to those of the true faith, but the Kaffirs gave their blood freely to save it, and so we think that, though small, it is very dear to them.
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jack
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| n.插座，千斤顶，男人；v.抬起，提醒，扛举；n.（Jake）杰克 | |
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sergeant
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| n.警官，中士 | |
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majesty
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| n.雄伟，壮丽，庄严，威严；最高权威，王权 | |
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promising
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| adj.有希望的，有前途的 | |
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seethed
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| （液体）沸腾( seethe的过去式和过去分词 )； 激动，大怒； 强压怒火； 生闷气(~with sth|~ at sth) | |
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6
hatred
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| n.憎恶，憎恨，仇恨 | |
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7
complacently
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| adv. 满足地, 自满地, 沾沾自喜地 | |
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8
brawn
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| n.体力 | |
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9
depot
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| n.仓库，储藏处；公共汽车站；火车站 | |
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battalion
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| n.营；部队；大队(的人) | |
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roster
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| n.值勤表，花名册 | |
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regiments
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| （军队的）团( regiment的名词复数 )； 大量的人或物 | |
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regiment
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| n.团，多数，管理；v.组织，编成团，统制 | |
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corps
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| n.(通信等兵种的)部队；(同类作的)一组 | |
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enrolled
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| adj.入学登记了的v.[亦作enrol]( enroll的过去式和过去分词 )；登记，招收，使入伍（或入会、入学等），参加，成为成员；记入名册；卷起，包起 | |
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16
tenant
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| n.承租人；房客；佃户；v.租借，租用 | |
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17
savage
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| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
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18
savagery
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| n.野性 | |
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19
begotten
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| v.为…之生父( beget的过去分词 )；产生，引起 | |
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bowels
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| n.肠，内脏，内部；肠( bowel的名词复数 )；内部，最深处 | |
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21
huddled
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| 挤在一起（huddle的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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22
huddle
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| vi.挤作一团；蜷缩；vt.聚集；n.挤在一起的人 | |
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23
outrage
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| n.暴行，侮辱，愤怒；vt.凌辱，激怒 | |
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24
grievance
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| n.怨愤，气恼，委屈 | |
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25
disaffected
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| adj.（政治上）不满的，叛离的 | |
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26
foe
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| n.敌人，仇敌 | |
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27
softened
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| （使）变软( soften的过去式和过去分词 )； 缓解打击； 缓和； 安慰 | |
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28
gallant
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| adj.英勇的，豪侠的；(向女人)献殷勤的 | |
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29
marvelled
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| v.惊奇，对…感到惊奇( marvel的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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30
loyalty
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| n.忠诚，忠心 | |
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31
tinge
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| vt.(较淡)着色于，染色；使带有…气息；n.淡淡色彩，些微的气息 | |
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32
rosy
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| adj.美好的，乐观的，玫瑰色的 | |
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33
dreary
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| adj.令人沮丧的，沉闷的，单调乏味的 | |
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34
clump
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| n.树丛，草丛；vi.用沉重的脚步行走 | |
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35
clumps
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| n.（树、灌木、植物等的）丛、簇( clump的名词复数 )；（土、泥等）团；块；笨重的脚步声v.（树、灌木、植物等的）丛、簇( clump的第三人称单数 )；（土、泥等）团；块；笨重的脚步声 | |
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36
thorny
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| adj.多刺的，棘手的 | |
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37
hue
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| n.色度；色调；样子 | |
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38
thickets
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| n.灌木丛( thicket的名词复数 )；丛状物 | |
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39
bleaching
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| 漂白法，漂白 | |
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40
slaughter
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| n.屠杀，屠宰；vt.屠杀，宰杀 | |
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41
slaughtered
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| v.屠杀，杀戮，屠宰( slaughter的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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42
tint
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| n.淡色，浅色；染发剂；vt.着以淡淡的颜色 | |
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43
tints
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| 色彩( tint的名词复数 )； 带白的颜色； （淡色）染发剂； 痕迹 | |
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44
arid
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| adj.干旱的；(土地)贫瘠的 | |
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45
streak
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| n.条理，斑纹，倾向，少许，痕迹；v.加条纹，变成条纹，奔驰，快速移动 | |
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46
upwards
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| adv.向上，在更高处...以上 | |
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47
zigzagged
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| adj.呈之字形移动的v.弯弯曲曲地走路，曲折地前进( zigzag的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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48
knoll
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| n.小山，小丘 | |
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49
northward
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| adv.向北；n.北方的地区 | |
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50
rim
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| n.(圆物的)边，轮缘；边界 | |
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51
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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52
vessels
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| n.血管( vessel的名词复数 )；船；容器；（具有特殊品质或接受特殊品质的）人 | |
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53
sinister
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| adj.不吉利的，凶恶的，左边的 | |
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54
murmur
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| n.低语，低声的怨言；v.低语，低声而言 | |
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55
grunting
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| 咕哝的，呼噜的 | |
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56
tawny
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| adj.茶色的，黄褐色的；n.黄褐色 | |
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57
sinewy
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| adj.多腱的，强壮有力的 | |
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58
scanty
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| adj.缺乏的，仅有的，节省的，狭小的，不够的 | |
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59
sheathed
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| adj.雕塑像下半身包在鞘中的；覆盖的；铠装的；装鞘了的v.将（刀、剑等）插入鞘( sheathe的过去式和过去分词 )；包，覆盖 | |
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60
fanfare
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| n.喇叭；号角之声；v.热闹地宣布 | |
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61
trampled
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| 踩( trample的过去式和过去分词 )； 践踏； 无视； 侵犯 | |
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62
slant
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| v.倾斜，倾向性地编写或报道；n.斜面，倾向 | |
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63
streaks
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| n.（与周围有所不同的）条纹( streak的名词复数 )；（通常指不好的）特征（倾向）；（不断经历成功或失败的）一段时期v.快速移动( streak的第三人称单数 )；使布满条纹 | |
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64
scarlet
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| n.深红色，绯红色，红衣；adj.绯红色的 | |
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65
dense
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| a.密集的，稠密的，浓密的；密度大的 | |
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66
mule
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| n.骡子，杂种，执拗的人 | |
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67
mules
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| 骡( mule的名词复数 )； 拖鞋； 顽固的人； 越境运毒者 | |
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68
cavalry
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| n.骑兵；轻装甲部队 | |
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69
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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70
scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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71
infantry
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| n.[总称]步兵(部队) | |
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72
eminence
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| n.卓越，显赫；高地，高处；名家 | |
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73
warily
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| adv.留心地 | |
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74
growled
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| v.（动物）发狺狺声， （雷）作隆隆声( growl的过去式和过去分词 )；低声咆哮着说 | |
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75
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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76
puff
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| n.一口(气)；一阵(风)；v.喷气，喘气 | |
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77
spurted
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| （液体，火焰等）喷出，（使）涌出( spurt的过去式和过去分词 )； （短暂地）加速前进，冲刺 | |
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78
metallic
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| adj.金属的；金属制的；含金属的；产金属的；像金属的 | |
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79
smack
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| vt.拍，打，掴；咂嘴；vi.含有…意味；n.拍 | |
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80
winding
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| n.绕，缠，绕组，线圈 | |
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81
downwards
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| adj./adv.向下的（地），下行的（地） | |
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82
dealers
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| n.商人( dealer的名词复数 )；贩毒者；毒品贩子；发牌者 | |
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83
fanaticism
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| n.狂热，盲信 | |
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84
squatting
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| v.像动物一样蹲下( squat的现在分词 )；非法擅自占用（土地或房屋）；为获得其所有权；而占用某片公共用地。 | |
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85
ragged
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| adj.衣衫褴褛的，粗糙的，刺耳的 | |
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86
valiant
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| adj.勇敢的，英勇的；n.勇士，勇敢的人 | |
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87
whoop
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| n.大叫，呐喊，喘息声；v.叫喊，喘息 | |
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88
clatter
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| v./n.(使)发出连续而清脆的撞击声 | |
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89
shingle
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| n.木瓦板；小招牌(尤指医生或律师挂的营业招牌)；v.用木瓦板盖（屋顶）；把（女子头发）剪短 | |
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90
brandished
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| v.挥舞( brandish的过去式和过去分词 )；炫耀 | |
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91
ridge
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| n.山脊；鼻梁；分水岭 | |
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92
hawk
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| n.鹰，骗子；鹰派成员 | |
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93
reined
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| 勒缰绳使（马）停步( rein的过去式和过去分词 )； 驾驭； 严格控制； 加强管理 | |
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94
artillery
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| n.(军)火炮，大炮；炮兵(部队) | |
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95
sobbing
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| <主方>Ⅰ adj.湿透的 | |
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96
galloped
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| （使马）飞奔，奔驰( gallop的过去式和过去分词 )； 快速做[说]某事 | |
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97
growling
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| n.吠声, 咆哮声 v.怒吠, 咆哮, 吼 | |
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98
snarling
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| v.（指狗）吠，嗥叫， （人）咆哮( snarl的现在分词 )；咆哮着说，厉声地说 | |
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99
sullen
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| adj.愠怒的，闷闷不乐的，(天气等)阴沉的 | |
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100
crest
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| n.顶点；饰章；羽冠；vt.达到顶点；vi.形成浪尖 | |
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101
harp
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| n.竖琴；天琴座 | |
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102
rippling
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| 起涟漪的，潺潺流水般声音的 | |
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103
assail
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| v.猛烈攻击，抨击，痛斥 | |
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104
ardent
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，强烈的，烈性的 | |
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105
battalions
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| n.（陆军的）一营（大约有一千兵士）( battalion的名词复数 )；协同作战的部队；军队；（组织在一起工作的）队伍 | |
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106
scouted
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| 寻找，侦察( scout的过去式和过去分词 )； 物色（优秀运动员、演员、音乐家等） | |
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107
supercilious
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| adj.目中无人的，高傲的；adv.高傲地；n.高傲 | |
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108
foes
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| 敌人，仇敌( foe的名词复数 ) | |
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109
galloper
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| 骑马奔驰的人，飞驰的马，旋转木马； 轻野炮 | |
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110
bulged
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| 凸出( bulge的过去式和过去分词 )； 充满； 塞满（某物） | |
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111
warrior
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| n.勇士，武士，斗士 | |
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112
stiffen
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| v.(使)硬，(使)变挺，(使)变僵硬 | |
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113
hoarse
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| adj.嘶哑的，沙哑的 | |
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114
ominous
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| adj.不祥的，不吉的，预兆的，预示的 | |
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115
boulders
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| n.卵石( boulder的名词复数 )；巨砾；（受水或天气侵蚀而成的）巨石；漂砾 | |
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116
crouching
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| v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的现在分词 ) | |
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117
pelting
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| 微不足道的，无价值的，盛怒的 | |
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118
galloping
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| adj. 飞驰的, 急性的 动词gallop的现在分词形式 | |
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119
swarmed
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| 密集( swarm的过去式和过去分词 )； 云集； 成群地移动； 蜜蜂或其他飞行昆虫成群地飞来飞去 | |
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120
cartridge
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| n.弹壳，弹药筒；(装磁带等的)盒子 | |
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121
rammed
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| v.夯实（土等）( ram的过去式和过去分词 )；猛撞；猛压；反复灌输 | |
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122
glistening
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| adj.闪耀的，反光的v.湿物闪耀，闪亮( glisten的现在分词 ) | |
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123
fanatics
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| 狂热者，入迷者( fanatic的名词复数 ) | |
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124
hewing
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| v.（用斧、刀等）砍、劈( hew的现在分词 )；砍成；劈出；开辟 | |
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125
hacking
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| n.非法访问计算机系统和数据库的活动 | |
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126
flinched
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| v.（因危险和痛苦）退缩，畏惧( flinch的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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127
gorge
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| n.咽喉，胃，暴食，山峡；v.塞饱，狼吞虎咽地吃 | |
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128
nervously
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| adv.神情激动地，不安地 | |
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129
savages
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| 未开化的人，野蛮人( savage的名词复数 ) | |
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130
bloody
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| adj.非常的的；流血的；残忍的；adv.很；vt.血染 | |
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131
vertical
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| adj.垂直的，顶点的，纵向的；n.垂直物，垂直的位置 | |
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132
shriek
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| v./n.尖叫，叫喊 | |
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133
Moslem
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| n.回教徒，穆罕默德信徒；adj.回教徒的，回教的 | |
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134
swerved
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| v.（使）改变方向，改变目的( swerve的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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135
fiery
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| adj.燃烧着的，火红的；暴躁的；激烈的 | |
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136
moodily
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| adv.喜怒无常地；情绪多变地；心情不稳地；易生气地 | |
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137
villain
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| n.反派演员，反面人物；恶棍；问题的起因 | |
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138
mutinous
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| adj.叛变的，反抗的；adv.反抗地，叛变地；n.反抗，叛变 | |
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139
thatch
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| vt.用茅草覆盖…的顶部；n.茅草(屋) | |
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140
shuffling
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| adj. 慢慢移动的, 滑移的 动词shuffle的现在分词形式 | |
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141
backwards
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| adv.往回地，向原处，倒，相反，前后倒置地 | |
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142
torment
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| n.折磨；令人痛苦的东西(人)；vt.折磨；纠缠 | |
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143
tormented
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| 饱受折磨的 | |
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144
writhing
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| （因极度痛苦而）扭动或翻滚( writhe的现在分词 ) | |
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145
haggled
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| v.讨价还价( haggle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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146
turmoil
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| n.骚乱，混乱，动乱 | |
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147
avert
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| v.防止，避免；转移(目光、注意力等) | |
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148
fended
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| v.独立生活，照料自己( fend的过去式和过去分词 )；挡开，避开 | |
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149
spotted
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| adj.有斑点的，斑纹的，弄污了的 | |
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150
darting
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| v.投掷，投射( dart的现在分词 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
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151
horrid
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| adj.可怕的；令人惊恐的；恐怖的；极讨厌的 | |
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152
loathing
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| n.厌恶，憎恨v.憎恨，厌恶( loathe的现在分词)；极不喜欢 | |
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153
faltered
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| （嗓音）颤抖( falter的过去式和过去分词 )； 支吾其词； 蹒跚； 摇晃 | |
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154
shrieking
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| v.尖叫( shriek的现在分词 ) | |
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155
plunge
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| v.跳入，(使)投入，(使)陷入；猛冲 | |
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156
bugler
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| 喇叭手； 号兵； 吹鼓手； 司号员 | |
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157
wholesome
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| adj.适合；卫生的；有益健康的；显示身心健康的 | |
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158
mischief
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| n.损害，伤害，危害；恶作剧，捣蛋，胡闹 | |
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159
shredding
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| v.撕碎，切碎( shred的现在分词 )；用撕毁机撕毁（文件） | |
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160
strenuous
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| adj.奋发的，使劲的；紧张的；热烈的，狂热的 | |
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161
fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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162
tunic
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| n.束腰外衣 | |
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163
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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164
seething
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| 沸腾的，火热的 | |
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165
anguish
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| n.(尤指心灵上的)极度痛苦，烦恼 | |
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166
warriors
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| 武士，勇士，战士( warrior的名词复数 ) | |
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167
salute
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| vi.行礼，致意，问候，放礼炮；vt.向…致意，迎接，赞扬；n.招呼，敬礼，礼炮 | |
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168
homage
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| n.尊敬，敬意，崇敬 | |
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169
blessing
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| n.祈神赐福；祷告；祝福，祝愿 | |
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170
slain
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| 杀死，宰杀，杀戮( slay的过去分词 )； (slay的过去分词) | |
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171
smite
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| v.重击；彻底击败；n.打；尝试；一点儿 | |
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172
wilt
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| v.(使)植物凋谢或枯萎；(指人)疲倦，衰弱 | |
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