Behind the breastwork all the men were now mixed up--musketeers with
pikemen and lathiwallahs. Upon these came the swarming enemy, some
clambering over the carts, others wriggling between the wheels. There was
a babel of cries; the exultant bellow of the born fighter, British or
native; a few pistol shots; the scream of the men mortally hit; the "Wah!
wah!" of the Bengalis applauding their own prowess.
As Diggle had said, the odds were four to one. But the defenders had the
advantage of position, and for a few moments they held the yelling mob at
bay. The half pikes of the boatmen were terrible weapons at close
quarters, more formidable than the cutlasses of the seamen balked by the
breastwork, or the loaded bamboo clubs of the lathiwallahs.
Sunman, the mate, was one of the first victims; he fell to a shot from
Bulger. But Parmiter and Diggle, followed by half a dozen of the sailors,
and a score of the more determined lathiwallahs and musketeers with
clubbed muskets, succeeded in clambering to the top of the carts and
prepared to jump down among the defenders, most of whom were busily
engaged in jabbing at the men swarming in between the wheels. Desmond saw
that if his barricade was once broken through the issue of the fight must
be decided by mere weight of numbers.
"Bulger, here!" he cried, "and you, Hossain."
The men sprang to him, and, following his example, leaped on to the cart
next to that occupied by Diggle and Parmiter. Desmond's intention was to
take them in flank.
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