A stout and substantial stockade of bamboos, having loopholes and a shallow ditch, surrounded the village of Yankowfum, and seemed sufficient if it were only manned throughout to keep out any attacking force. But the little garrison was not strong enough to occupy more than a third of its length. It was a question, therefore, whether it would not be wisest to limit the defence, and, instead of holding the outer and too extended line, concentrate the whole force within the hospital building, which was certainly large, but still compact and reasonably strong. This is what our hero had to decide, for it was upon Herbert that[21] the responsibility seemed to fall. Ernest Farrington was almost helpless, whether from abject incapacity, or from the more despicable reason of total want of nerve. Besides, after what the staff colonel had said Herbert felt that he was bound to act and do the best he could.

He consulted with one or two of the others, particularly an old lance-sergeant who deferred to him as senior in rank, and a very smart young sailor, a petty officer, who, like every true blue jacket, was ready to put his hand to anything.

‘Best hold on to the front line at least for a bit,’ the lance-sergeant thought. ‘We can fall back upon the hospital if we’re hard pressed.’

‘Yes, I agree to that,’ replied Herbert. ‘But the hospital will be our real centre and chief defence. It must be strengthened,[22] barricaded, the walls pierced with loopholes, and the thatch taken off the roof for fear of fire. Who’ll see to all that? will you?’ he asked of the sailor.

‘Aye will I. Give me half a dozen hands, that’s all. Them blacks’ll do. I’m rated carpenter’s mate, and I can show them how to work. I’ll make everything taut and shipshape, or my name’s not Rechab Larkins.’

‘Rechab Lar—’ Herbert’s jaw dropped with amazement. ‘Son of the barrack sergeant, once at Triggertown and now at Gib?’

The other nodded.

‘Do you know who I am? Why—Hercules Albert, your half-brother.’

It was Rechab’s turn to show astonishment.

‘Avast there. None of your games. You little Herkles boy?’

[23]

‘Yes. You may take your oath, to that.’

‘Well; I am blowed.’

Then they shook hands warmly and looked at each other, and shook hands again and again.

‘Come, lads,’ interposed the lance-sergeant, ‘time’s up. Don’t get looking for the strawberry marks, or may be the niggers will drop on to you and save you all the trouble.’

‘You’re right,’ said Herbert promptly. ‘All this will keep. Now, Rechab, lad, to your post. There’s more to tell you, but that, too, will keep.’

Why tell him that Ernest Farrington was also there sharing their danger?

Herbert, following the lance-sergeant’s advice, resolved to hold the stockade, but at its angles and points only, whence a fairly good flanking fire across the front could be[24] maintained. At each of these he posted a small detachment under the command of a non-commissioned officer, to whom he gave explicit orders. They were to save ammunition, to ‘fire slow and fire low,’ as the general said, and hold on till they got the signal to retire. This would be passed from the centre the moment the stockade was forced at any point. The retreat was to be made with all speed upon the hospital under cover of its fire. At the hospital itself a small garrison was also posted from the first, composed of the convalescents; of all, in fact, who had spirit enough to rise from their beds. Even Dr. McCosh got out his revolver and promised to assist. None of the sick were strong enough to form part of the outer line, nor could they have retreated rapidly when that line was broken through, but they would be able to load and fire alternately[25] standing and sitting, and so contribute much to the general inner defence.

When these dispositions were in a fair way towards completion, Herbert went in search of his commanding officer to report progress.

‘Will you inspect the post, sir? Everything is as ready as we can make it. We only want the enemy now, and they can come on as soon as they please.’

Mr. Farrington winced slightly at the mention of the enemy, but he was now far more master of himself than when Herbert had seen him last. He had pulled himself together, and seemed about to take his proper position as commanding officer and chief. Like many other weak spirits, he made up for former shortcomings by assuming a blustering air.

‘I daresay you have done your best.[26] We shall see. Where are the men posted? At the stockade? Oh, this won’t do at all. We cannot hold the stockade; we are too few. The hospital is our only chance. Everyone must be concentrated there.’

‘But, sir, we cannot resign the stockade without a shot.’

‘Do you dispute my orders? I’ll put you under arrest, and have you tried for mutinous conduct. Who are you? What’s your name?’

‘I am Colour-Sergeant Larkins, of the Duke’s Own.’

‘Larkins? Larkins? What Larkins? Not Mi—Mi—Mimie’s brother?’

‘Her half-brother, Mr. Farrington, who told you not so long ago that if you injured her he would break every bone in your skin. Her own brother is here, too. What’s to hinder us from putting a bullet[27] through you now, you white-livered cur?’

‘How dare you address me like that? I’ll have you placed in irons. You shall be charged with mutiny, by George. I’ll get you shot.’

‘Perhaps the Ashantis will save you—and me—the trouble,’ said Herbert, significantly. ‘But if we get through this day all right, you and I have other differences to settle, remember that.’

‘Threats? This is insufferable. I’ll shove you in arrest; I’ll put a sentry over you.’

Farrington suddenly turned quite white; his teeth chattered, and he could hardly stand.

‘What in heaven’s name is that?’ he stammered out.

A roar of voices, harsh, discordant, and[28] loud enough to rouse the dead. It was the Ashanti song of battle, sung by thousands, as it seemed, uniting into one grand but savage chorus of defiance. Behind all was the hideous noise of screeching horns and the rattle of native drums. For some minutes the uproar continued, then ceased as suddenly as it had arisen. It was followed by a sound more familiar and far more impressive, at least in a soldier’s ears. This was the sharp and sustained crackling of musketry fire.

The ball had begun.

‘Our quarrel will keep, sir. There’s something else to be done now. Any orders, sir?’

‘No; at least, yes. Perhaps the men had better stay where they are just at first. You can withdraw them when you think you ought. I shall go myself to the hospital.[29] It is more central, and I can see all around from there.’

And Mr. Farrington, who was becoming more than uncomfortable as the slugs were falling ............