"Look, Harry - yonder! Who are those people?"
I stared back, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes - the distant mountains were in a wall of mist, and on the rolling land between there were long trails of fog hanging on the slopes. Nothing else - no! there was movement on the crest a mile behind us, figures of men coming into plain view, a dozen - twenty perhaps, in an irregular line abreast. I felt an awful clutch at my heart as I stared, disbelieving what I saw, for they were advancing at a slow trot, in an ominously disciplined fashion; I recognized that gait, even as I took in the first twinkle of steel along the line and made out the white streaks of the bandoliers - I'd taught 'em how to advance in skirmishing order myself, hadn't I? But it was impossible …
"It can't be!" I heard my voice cracking. "They're Hova guardsmen!"
If any confirmation were needed it came in the faint, wailing yell drifting on the dawn air, as they came jogging down the slope to the plain.
"I thought I had better rouse you, Harry," Elspeth was saying, but by then I was leaping for the horses, yelling to her to get aboard. She was still babbling questions as I bundled her up bareback, and flung myself on to a second mount. I slashed at the three other beasts remaining to us, and as they fled neighing from the hollow I spared another wild glance back; three-quarters of a mile away the skirmishing line was coming steadily towards us, cutting the distance at frightening speed. God, how had they done it on foot in the time? Where had they come from, for that matter?
Interesting questions, to which I still don't know the answer, and they didn't occupy me above a split second just then. In the nick of time I stifled my coward's instinct to gallop wildly away from them, and surveyed the ground ahead of us. Two, perhaps three miles due east, across rolling sandy plain, was the crest from which, I was pretty sure, we'd look down on the shore; there was the Tamitave track a mile or so to our right, with a few villagers already on it. I struggled to clear my wits - if we rode straight ahead we ought to come out just above the Tamitave fort, north of the town proper - the frigate would be lying in the roads - Christ, how were we going to reach her, for there'd be no time to stop and scheme, with these devils on our heels. I looked again; they were well out on the plain by now, and coming on fast … I gripped Elspeth's wrist.
"Follow me close! Ride steady, watch your footing, and for God's sake don't slip! They can't catch us if we keep up a round canter, but if we tumble we're done!"
She was pale as a sheet, but she nodded and for once didn't ask me who these strange gentlemen were, or what they wanted, or if her hair was disarranged. I wheeled and set off down the slope, with her close behind, and the yell as they saw us turn was clear enough now; a savage hunting cry that had me digging in my heels despite myself. We drummed down the hill, and I forced myself not to look back until we'd crossed the little valley and come to the next crest - we'd gained on them, but they were still coming, and I gulped and gestured furiously to Elspeth to keep up.
I'd have to count up all the battles I've been in to tell you how often I've fled in panic, and I've made a few other strategic withdrawals, too, but this was as horrid as any. There was the time Scud East and I went tearing along the Arrow of Arabat in a sled with the Cossacks behind us, and the jolly little jaunt I had with Colonel Sebastian Moran in the ammunition cart after Isandhlwana, with the Udloko Zulus on our tail - and couldn't they cover the ground, just? But in the present case the snag was that very shortly we were going to reach the sea, and unless our embarkation went smoothly - God, the frigate must be there! … I stole another look over my shoulder - we were a clear mile ahead now, surely, but there they were still, just appearing on a crest and streaming over it in fine style.
I took a look at our horses; they weren't labouring, but they weren't fit to enter the St Leger either. Would they last? Suppose one went lame - why the blazes hadn't I thought to drive the spare beasts ahead? But it was too late now.
"Come on," says I, and Elspeth gave me a trembling look and kicked in her heels, clinging to the mane. The last slope was half a mile ahead; as we dropped our pace for the ascent I looked back again, but there was nothing in sight for a good mile.
"We'll do it yet!" I shouted, and we covered the last few yards to the top through slippery sand, the sun blazed in our eyes as we reached the crest, the breeze was suddenly stiff in our faces - and there below us, down a long sandy slope, was the spreading panorama of beach and blue water, with the surf foaming not a mile away. Far off to the right was Tamitave town, the smoke rising in thin trails above the thatched roofs; closer, but still to the right, was the fort, a massive circular stone tower, with its flag a-flutter, and its outer wooden palisade; there were white-coated troops, about a platoon strong, marching towards it from the town, and looking down from our point of vantage I could see great activity in the central square of the fort itself, and round the gun emplacements on its wall.
The sun was shining straight towards us out of a blue, cloudless sky, the rays coming over a thick bank of mist which mantled the surface of the sea a mile off-shore. A beautiful sight, the coral strand with its palms, the gulls wheeling, the gentle roll of bright blue sea - there was only one thing missing. From golden beach to pearly bank of mist, from pale clear distance in the north to the vague smokiness of the town waterfront to the south, the sea was as bare as a miser's table. There was no British frigate in Tamitave roads. There wasn't even a blasted bumboat. And behind us, as I turned my frantic gaze in their direction, the Hovas were just coming in sight on the hillside a scant mile away.
I can't recall whether I screamed aloud or not; I may well have done, but if I did it was a poor expression of the sick despair that engulfed me in that moment. I know the thought that was in my mind, as I pounded my knee with my fist in an anguish of rage, fear, and disappointment, was: "But it must be there! It has to wait for her message!" and then Elspeth was turning solemn blue eyes on me and asking:
"But Harry, where is the ship? You said it would be here—" And then, putting two and two together, I suppose, she added: "Whatever shall we do now?"
It was a question which had occurred to me, as I stared palsied from the empty sea in front to our pursuers behind - they had halted on the far crest, which was an irony, if you like. They could crawl on their bellies towards us now, for all it mattered - we were trapped, helpless, with nothing to do but wait until they came up with us at their leisure, to seize and drag us back to the abominable fate that would be waiting for us in Antan'. I could picture those snakelike eyes, the steaming pits at Ambohipotsy, the bodies turning in the air from the top of the cliff, the blood-curdling shriek of the mob - I realized I was babbling out a flood of oaths, as I stared vainly round for an escape which I knew wasn't there.
Elspeth was clutching my hand, white-faced - and then, because it was the only way to go, I was urging her down the slope to our left, towards a long grove of palms which began about two furlongs from the fort and ran away into the distance along the coastline northwards. That's one thing about a sound cowardly instinct - it turns you directly to cover, however poor and useless it may be. They'd find us there in no time, but if we could reach the trees undetected from the fort, we might at least be able to flee north - to what? There was nothing for us yonder except blind flight until we dropped from exhaustion, or our horses foundered, or those black hounds came up with us, and I knew it, but it was better than stopping where we were to be run down like sheep.