The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ, Moves on:    -- Omar Khayyam, The Rubaiyat ......................... Part Two of New Year's Action at ..Point Wytouki

Just as the dhow moves to shelter behind a small island to reload the guns out of the hail of deadly fire from the Gatling, Maj. Mudd, firing his Webley at extreme range from amidships, manages to pitch one of the native gunners into the murky waters. With the dhow out of the Gatling's reach, the steamer moves forward. The Naval Brigade gunners now turn their attention to the fort, and the machinegun clears one native gun crew from behind the stone walls in a single volley.

The lancers, frustrated at the infantry's pace, form up and charge across the rough hilltop toward the camels, who, quite sensibly, considering the number of their opponents, turn and run. This leaves the native riflemen's flank exposed, not that these hotspurs would ever notice anything so strategically significant. In the best cavalry tradition, they whip their mounts across the dusty landscape in pursuit of the fleeing camels.

Faced with grim ranks of determined khaki troops, the small group of native riflemen fires one ineffective volley and falls back toward the safety of the fort.

But they have waited too long; only two get inside. The rest are cut down by the troopers' rifles and the vicious Gatling fire before they reach the wall.

The natives in the fort have had enough of the Gatling. They wheel around the landward fieldpiece and blast the steamer's bow with double-loaded grape (or its Arab equivalent), leaving Mudd standing behind leaking sandbags with perforated helmet and shredded clothing, amidst the rent bodies of his gun crew. (There was later to be some urging that Mudd be awarded a VC for exposing himself to such peril, until Sir Randolph Churchill pointed out at a Royal croquet party that the Gatling gunners who faced the same dangers not only had not been considered for medals, their widows had not even got their shilling for the day).

With the steamer churning its way toward the fort, the dhow drifts silently out from behind the island to enfilade the Highlanders. The two broadside guns plow deadly shot through the densly-packed ranks of the Scots.

Capt. Crumpudding, taken somewhat aback by this wholly unexpected development, suddenly recalls something he read in a textbook on tactics which he left, unfinished, in a second-class carriage in Paddington station. "In the presence of enemy artillery, it is generally best to deploy in..."

"Open order," shouts Sgt McAmecassie. As the Scots disperse, the Sikhs begin lowering boats from the steamer.

The lancers are still playing catch-camel in the desert.The Dipshires line the river bank to support the Sikh's landing with rifle fire against the fort's riverward wall.

The dhow comes about, turning toward shore; the surviving gunners rush forward to the bow gun, as the Sikhs row for land.

At last the lancers break off pursuit, watching the panicked camels disappear into the barren hills. Herewith, the reader may find an overall view of the situation at this point in the action.

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