Diggle's expression had been becoming
blacker and blacker as Desmond spoke, and seeing with fury that he was
being played with he suddenly wheeled round, and, cantering back to his
men, gave the order to fire. At the same moment Desmond called to his men
to lie flat on the ground and aim at the enemy from behind the solid
wooden wheels of the hackeris. Being on the flat top of the mound, they
were to some extent below the line of fire from the plain, and when the
first volley was delivered no harm was done to them save for a few
scratches made by flying splinters struck from the carts.
But the crack of the matchlocks struck terror into the pale hearts of
some of the hackeriwallahs. Several sprang over the breastwork and
scuttled away like scared rabbits. The remainder stood firm, grasping
their lathis in a manner that showed the fighting instinct to be strong,
even in the Bengali.
Many anxious looks were bent upon Desmond, his men expecting the order to
fire. But he bade them remain still, and through the interval between two
carts he watched for the rush that was coming. The crew of the Good
Intent, headed by Sunman, the cross-eyed mate, and Parmiter, had come up
behind the natives. These, having emptied their matchlocks, were now
retiring to reload. Diggle had dismounted, and was talking earnestly with
the mate. They walked together to the edge of the nullah, and looked up
and down it, doubtless canvassing the chances of an attack in the rear;
but the sides were steep; there was no hope of success in this direction;
and they rejoined the main body.
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