THE MISSIONARIES AND THE MAHDI.
Description of El Obeid--Said Pasha's system of defence--The
Mahdi's followers encircle the town--Townspeople desert to the
Mahdi--Unsuccessful attack on Government buildings--Dervishes
driven off with loss of 10,000 men--The missionaries brought before
the Mahdi--Threatened with death--Preparations for the
execution--Reprieved at the last moment--The Mahdi's camp
described--Death of some of the missionaries--Illness of remainder.
During our stay in the hut we were told how the inhabitants of El Obeid
had joined the Mahdi, and that only the garrison held out; but I will
here narrate what had actually occurred.
We left the Mahdi last at Birket, while his three messengers had been
hanged in El Obeid. He left Birket on the 4th of September, and encamped
at Kaba, a place a few hours' journey from El Obeid. El Obeid is
situated in the midst of a vast plain, which in the hot weather is just
like a desert. Here and there a few Adansonia trees, transported from
Khartum, break the monotony of this dreary scene which is bounded on the
south-east by the Kordofan mountains; at a distance of about five
kilometres to the north rises the cone-shaped hill known as Korbatsh,
while to the north-west appears the small Om Herezeh mountain. El Obeid
lies in a sort of hollow in the plain; consequently during the
winter-time the wells become full of water, and serve as a sufficient
supply for the whole year.
Since the Egyptian occupation of the Sudan, El Obeid had become a town
of some importance, but the houses were for the most part built of mud,
with the exception of the Government buildings, which were constructed
of sun-dried bricks. The entrance to these buildings was through a lofty
archway, over which a second story had been raised, thus making it a
most conspicuous object, and one which could be seen from a considerable
distance. El Obeid, at the time of which I speak, was an important and
flourishing city, with a population of about 100,000 souls. It was noted
principally for its gum, the best quality of which was known by the name
of Kordofan gum. The largest quantities came from Tayara and Dar Homr,
where the gum trees were planted in large gardens regularly laid out.
Thousands of camels were engaged in the transport of this valuable
commodity to Shatt on the White Nile, to Omdurman, and to Dongola.
Ostrich feathers also formed another important article of commerce. At
Dar Homr there are numbers of ostrich farms, the animals being kept in
large zaribas; but as an article of trade, the feathers of the wild
ostriches are more valuable than those of the domestic animal. Ostrich
feathers are always sold by weight. Other exports from Kordofan are
tamarinds, senna, and the skins of animals. Iron is also found in
Kordofan; and one day, when we were digging out a well at Delen, we came
across quicksilver.
El Obeid was also the supply depôt for Darfur, Shakka, and Dar Nuba, and
thus became an important trade centre. Numbers of rich merchants lived
here, such as Elias Pasha, Omberer, Hajji Mohammed Ben en Naga, Ahmed
Bey Dafallah (who owned thousands of slaves), Mohammed Wad el Areik,
Hajji Khaled, Ibrahim wad Adlan, besides numbers of Copts and Egyptians.
Several of the principal mercantile houses in Cairo also had their
agents--Syrians, Greeks, and Jews--in El Obeid. Kordofan was also rich
in cattle. The Kababish, Dar Homr, Beni Jerrar, and Dar Hamed Arabs
possessed large numbers of she-camels. These animals are always kept in
the deserts, and are retained exclusively for breeding purposes.
Quantities of the young camels are killed, and their flesh, which is
preferred to any other kind of meat in the Sudan, is considered a great
luxury, and is generally eaten uncooked. Corn is largely grown in
Kordofan, also sesame, which is preferred to that grown on the White
Nile; large white water-melons are also grown in abundance. It may
therefore be understood why Kordofan was the richest province in the
Sudan and brought in the largest revenue to Government.
The whole of this rich country was now in the hands of the Mahdi, with
the exception of El Obeid, which was destined soon to be the scene of
bloodshed and fanatical warfare between people of the same race and
religion. The Arabs of various tribes, who in peace time had brought
their goods to El Obeid to barter and exchange, were now clamouring for
the destruction of the town and the slaughter of its inmates. As I have
already related, Said Pasha had completely surrounded the town by a
ditch and parapet; but as this would require such an enormous number of
men to defend it, and knowing that he could place little reliance on the
inhabitants, he had strongly entrenched the Mudirieh and Government
buildings, and at the same time put into a state of defence the
barracks, officers and officials' houses, and those of the Greek and
Syrian merchants. The members of our Mission station left their house
and pretty church, and hired rooms within the fortifications; the loyal
citizens and merchants followed their example, while the remainder of
the inhabitants continued to live in the town, and conspired with the
Mahdi. On the 7th of December, that is to say, the day on which the
Mahdi arrived at Kaba, the whole of these inhabitants quitted the town
and joined him in his camp. The wealthy merchants had for long been in
communication with the Mahdi, others joined him because they were worked
up to a pitch of wild fanaticism; some feared to disobey the summons,
for they could see how weak were the Government troops and how
successful the Mahdi had been. Amongst the deserters to the Mahdi's side
were Mohammed Khabir Pasha of Darfur, and a number of irregular troops
who had been despatched from Khartum as reinforcements for El Obeid.
Thus by various means the Mahdi's force now numbered upwards of 30,000
fighting men, and with such an army as that it seemed to him a very easy
matter to subdue Said Pasha and his meagre garrison. The Mahdi further
incited his people to fight by assuring them that the gates of paradise
were open to all those martyrs who should fall, and that each of them
should be attended by forty lovely houris when they entered its portals.
He also roused their feelings of cupidity by representing, in the most
exaggerated terms, the value of the treasure locked up within the
Mudirieh, and told them that victory was assured, for God and his
Prophet had decreed that they should annihilate their enemies with
simple sticks; this he said because he knew that only a few of his
followers had firearms. Having thus raised them to a pitch of the
wildest excitement, he advanced from Kaba.
In the meantime the Mudir, seeing that he could not rely on the
inhabitants, did all in his power to improve the fortifications, and
awaited the assault of the enemy. At daybreak the hordes appeared on the
rising ground near El Obeid; the defenders heard only the dull roar
caused by the mass of voices in the distance, but the clouds of dust
prevented them seeing anything; it was only when the fitful gusts of
wind blew away the dust that the thousands of horsemen could be seen
galloping wildly about and then disappearing again behind the dust. But
the noise like approaching thunder became every instant more audible,
and soon above the clouds of sand the myriads of flags and banners
became visible. Fiki Minneh, with about 10,000 men, approached from the
east, whilst the Mahdi's attack was directed on the south-west end of
the town. The first ditch was soon crossed, and then the Mahdiists
spread out and completely encircled the town; masses of wild fanatics
rolled like waves through the deserted streets; they did not advance
through these alone, but hurrying on from house to house, wall to wall,
and yard to yard, they reached the ditch of the Mudirieh, and like a
torrent suddenly let loose, regardless of every obstacle, with wild
shouts they dashed across it and up the ramparts, from which the din of
a thousand rifles and the booming of the guns suddenly burst forth; but
these wild hordes, utterly fearless of death, cared neither for the
deadly Remington nor the thunder of the guns, and still swept forward in
ever-increasing numbers.
The poor garrison, utterly powerless to resist such an assault, ran to
the tops of the houses and kept up an incessant fire on the masses,
which now formed such a crowd that they could scarcely move--indeed the
barrels of the rifles from the rapidity of the fire became almost
red-hot; and soon the streets and open spaces became literally choked
with the bodies of those who had fallen. There was a momentary pause,
and Ali Bey Sherif, seizing this opportunity, collected a party of men
and dashed towards the magazine, where a fierce conflict was going on
between the guard and the Dervishes. The latter had already become
masters of the situation when Ali Bey suddenly appeared on the scene,
and firing on the mass, whether friend or foe, he drove the Mahdiists
back over the ditch, and then formed up in the breach ready to repel any
further attempt to break in.
Meanwhile Said Pasha was heavily engaged in front of the Mudirieh. Here
an emir named Wad Gubara broke in, and shouting, "Death to the Turks,
those dogs and swine!" he dashed forward at the head of his men, but the
determined resistance of the Mudir forced them to retire back across the
ditch. Ahmed Dufallah defended that part of the line which was assaulted
by Ibrahim Wad Abdullah, an emir who had gained great celebrity amongst
the Dervishes. This brave Arab attacked again and again, hoping that the
bodies of those who fell would soon fill up the ditch and make a passage
which he could cross, but his attempt failed, and he too was forced to
retire.
The Mahdi all this time was watching at a safe distance, and kept on
ordering the assault to continue; but it was impossible to stand up
against the well-directed fire from the defences, and consequently
towards the afternoon he was forced to retire. The gallant little
garrison seeing this, could not be restrained, and dashing out over the
heaps of slain they made a fierce onslaught on the houses in the town,
which were filled with Dervishes in search of loot. In their fury they
killed all who came in their way, and perhaps they may be excused, for
they were in a state of the wildest excitement, occasioned by this
fearful scene of bloodshed.
It was impossible not to admire the reckless bravery of these fanatics
who, dancing and shouting, rushed up to the very muzzles of the rifles
with nothing but a knotty stick in their hands, only to fall dead one
over the other. Numbers of them carried large bundles of dhurra stalk,
which they threw into the ditch, hoping to fill it up and then cross
over. When the town was cleared, the victorious troops had a great feast
and general rejoicing. Amongst the dead bodies of the Dervishes were
found a near relative of the Mahdi's named Said Mohammed, also Wad
Gubara; the latter was a Turk who, with his two brothers, had joined the
Mahdi at Gedir; he was one of the fiercest of the emirs. He had fought
with the greatest pertinacity in front of the Mudirieh, and, mounted on
a horse, he was urging on his followers; but the soldiers, noticing his
fair face, persistently aimed at him, and at length he and his horse
fell on the top of a heap of dead bodies. When the soldiers subsequently
found his body, they were so annoyed that a Turk should have joined the
Mahdi that they cut off his head and hacked his body to pieces.
Whilst the soldiers were clearing out the enemy from the houses, the
Mahdi was retiring on Kaba with a loss of 10,000 men. Said Pasha then
held a council to consider whether they should pursue; but he himself
was against pursuit, for he thought that possibly Fiki Minneh might then
fall on the defenceless town; besides, in all he had not more than 3,000
men. As for the Mahdi, he and his principal emirs were greatly alarmed,
and it is very probable that if they had been pursued, the result would
have been a complete victory for Said Pasha. As it was, the Mahdi was on
the point of retreating to the mountains, and would have done so had
not the inhabitants of El Obeid, who still thought of their houses and
property, dissuaded him. The latter still urged him to continue the
siege, consequently on the following day he took up a position on a hill
called Gianzara, about two kilometres distant to the north-west of the
town, and only one kilometre distant from the Oshra Well (so called from
the oshra or euphorbia which grows in quantities in the vicinity). Fiki
Minneh established himself to the north-west of the town, and soon it
was more closely invested than ever; from that date nothing came in and
nothing went out of the doomed city.
We had spent one day in the hut, and had learnt all the details about
the Mahdi's attack on the town, when a messenger sent by Naser arrived,
and ordered us to move on to the Mahdi's camp, as it was his gracious
intention to permit us to look upon his face. Shortly after we had set
out, we met Naser returning, accompanied by a party of Dervishes.
As we approached El Obeid, the rattle of the rifles, broken every now
and then by the boom of a gun, became more and more audible. We were
halted under a large Adansonia tree and ordered to rest, but we had
scarcely laid down when we were suddenly attacked by Naser and his
party, who seized our watches and other valuables, and then stripped off
our clothes; they even attempted to remove the veils and outer garments
of the sisters, but to this we forcibly objected, and seizing sticks
tried to drive them off. At length these wretched thieves, ashamed of
the unequal contest, drew off, and Naser ordered our clothes to be
returned; but my suit, in which I had stitched thirty dollars, was not
given back to me, and I was reduced to appearing before the Mahdi in a
shirt and drawers! Our escort having satisfied their cupidity, now
mounted our donkeys, and we were obliged to walk; the burning sun beat
down on our heads, and the heated ground and heavy sand made our
progress intensely laborious.
As we approached the camp, at every step the crowd grew denser. El
Obeid was now visible a short way off, and the sight of the houses and
trees was a pleasant break in the monotony of this desolate wilderness.
The continuous rattle of the bullets, interrupted by the thunder of the
cannon, was an indication that a brisk engagement was going on. As we
entered the camp, the crowd was so enormous that we were almost choked
with the dust that was raised, and soon became thoroughly exhausted. Our
brother Mariani, who was sick at the time we left Delen, could keep up
no longer, and we were obliged to almost carry him along.
The fanatics now completely surrounded us, and kept on threatening us
with their lances, clubs, and sticks. Naser himself, seeing some of the
very excited Dervishes pointing their lances at our breasts, greatly
feared for our safety, and it seemed to us that there was now not the
slightest doubt that they intended to kill us. He therefore ordered our
escort to draw their swords and form a square, in the centre of which we
walked. The exertions of the last few days, the heat, the yelling of the
crowd, the monotonous chants of the Dervishes, and finally the din of
this enormous camp of over 100,000 men, exclusive of women and children,
reacted on us to such an extent that we were well-nigh speechless.
Slowly we made our way towards the centre of the camp where the great
Dervish, Mohammed Ahmed, had pitched his tent.
We were taken, in the first instance, to the hut of the Khalifa Sherif.
Here we found a lad of twelve or thirteen years of age, lying half-naked
on a bedstead, who invited us to come into the shade and rest ourselves,
at the same time he drove off with his whip the inquisitive crowd that
kept pressing in to look at us. He gave us some water to drink, but we
were so utterly weary and exhausted that we could not swallow it for
some time, and the heat and dust had literally glued our tongues, so
that we were unable to articulate. We were allowed to rest for a short
time, as the Mahdi had not risen from his noonday sleep, and this brief
respite enabled us to collect our thoughts, which the events of the
last few days and the uproar of the camp had caused to wander sadly.
At length an order came that the Mahdi was up and wished to see us. We
were then taken to a small hut, which had two sides open, through which
a cool breeze blew in; close to the hut one of the tents captured from
Yusef Pasha Shellali had been pitched, and as we arrived the Mahdi came
out of the tent and seated himself, in Arabic fashion, on a straw mat
spread on the floor of the hut. He greeted us kindly, and asked us about
our nationality and our object in coming to the Sudan, also whether we
had ever heard anything about the Mahdi, he then briefly explained to us
the nature of his divine message, and recounted his great victories over
"the enemies of God and His Prophet," by which name he designated the
Turks.
Seeing that we were utterly exhausted, he offered us some kamar-ed-din
(dried apricots) mixed with water, but almost before we could put it to
our mouths it was full of flies. In the meantime a certain George
Stambuli, who had joined the rebels with the other inhabitants of El
Obeid, came in, and through him the Mahdi endeavoured to place before us
the great advantage of the Islam religion. The Mahdi himself never asked
us to adopt the Moslem faith, because he feared that we should answer in
the negative. He then stretched himself out on the mat as if he were
preparing to behold a vision.
Mohammed Ahmed was a powerfully built man, of dark-brown complexion and
carefully kept skin; he had a pleasant smile, which showed to advantage
the curious slit between his front teeth. By constant training he had
acquired a gentle manner in speaking, and with these exceptions there
was nothing unusual in his appearance. He wore a dirty jibbeh, on which
parti-coloured strips of cotton had been sewn; on his head the white
skull cap or "takia," round which a broad white turban was bound; he
also wore a pair of loose drawers and sandals.
After he had lain for some time with closed eyes, he rose and offered
us some more kamar-ed-din, from which he himself began to take out the
flies; but finding it absolutely useless to do so, he gave it up, and
then went back to his tent, probably to hold a council. After a short
time he again returned, wearing a clean jibbeh patched with pieces of
the vestments belonging to our Mission church at El Obeid. He then began
to recount to us the history of the numerous conversions which had taken
place in the early days of the Prophet. Seeing that we took little
interest in what he said, he got up and ordered us to be taken before
the Khalifa Abdullah (the present ruler of the Sudan), while he himself
retired to his own tent.
On our arrival at Abdullah's hut, we found ourselves in company with
twenty robbers who were chained hand and foot. An enormous crowd stood
round, and amongst the faces I noticed some of our Delen friends, who
had evidently followed us to see what the end would be. Our guard, armed
with Remington rifles, stood around us, and close to us was the Khalifa
Abdullah's horse, which always remained saddled--a witness to his
unbounded energy. A short distance off, about eighty flags were planted
in the ground, and beside them were the war-drums. Hardly had we seated
ourselves when the Khalifa Abdullah entered. He was at that time a man
of about thirty-three years of age, of middle height, very thin--in
fact, little else but skin and bone; he greeted us kindly, and invited
us to become Moslems. From his bombastic conversation, we soon saw that
he was a man of no education whatever, and he ended up by saying that if
we refused to obey we had only death to expect. We were then marched
off.
On the evening of the 27th of September, when George Stambuli came to
tell us that if we did not embrace Islam, we should most certainly die,
we gave him no hope that we should change our minds. The Mahdi
frequently sent people to teach us the truths of religion, but we soon
tired of their nonsensical chattering, and Father Bonomi used to send
them away with strong words. Shortly afterwards Abdullah came again,
bringing a water-melon with him, and in default of a knife he broke it
on the ground; but we refused to take any. Greatly annoyed at this, he
went off in a rage, saying that we should be beheaded the following
morning.
At midnight Stambuli came to us again, to say that he had offered a
considerable sum for our ransom, but that the Mahdi had refused to
accept it. We therefore gave him the few dollars we had left, and asked
him to come and see us the following morning, which he promised to do.
We employed our few remaining hours in preparation for death. The
terrors and alarms which we had undergone for the last five months were
over at last; in the midst of our sufferings the thought of death, which
should soon take us out of the hands of these barbarians, was a comfort
to us. A deep quiet had now settled down over the camp, which was only
occasionally broken by the clank of the prisoners' chains.
Just before dawn a wonderful comet appeared in the east; its golden tail
seemed to project about ten feet into the blue firmament, and was a most
striking sight. It brought back to our minds the star in the east which
stood over the manger at Bethlehem. The Arabs called it "Nigmet el
Mahdi" (the Mahdi's star).
According to Sudan superstition, the appearance of a comet is supposed
to forebode evil, and, indeed, what catastrophe could have been greater
than that which was now impending over the Sudan? The sudden clang of
the war-drum startled me from the meditations which the appearance of
that strange comet had produced. The beating of the drums and the blast
of the great ivory horn (onbeïa) was the signal for the "Ardeh-Kebir,"
or grand review, and I now had to bethink me of my own affairs and let
the star pursue its way in the heavens.
The emirs' war-drums now took up the signal, and soon people were
rushing from all directions towards their particular flags, which were
planted to the east of El Obeid. Stambuli again appeared and announced
to us that our sufferings were nearly over. We gave him a small piece
of paper on which we had written our last farewells to our own loved
ones at home, and had signed our names. This we begged him to send on
when an opportunity occurred. Weeping bitterly, he took the paper and
went to his hut, saying he could not bear to look on at our execution.
We were now all ready, and at about nine o'clock a party of thirty men
armed with lances arrived and ordered us to follow them. We were still
suffering from fatigue, but we got up and followed. After about half an
hour's walk we arrived before the Dervish hosts, and thanked God that
victory was now so near. About 40,000 men were standing on parade, and
thousands of others were moving about the camp like ants. We were taken
to a central position and ordered to bend our necks to receive the
death-blow, and without the smallest hesitation we did so. But our hour
had not yet come. We were summoned before the Mahdi, who was riding on a
magnificent white camel; behind him rode a slave carrying an umbrella to
shade him from the sun's rays. As we approached, he turned round to us
and said, "May God lead you into the way of truth," and then rode on.
The troops were now dismissed, and we were immediately surrounded by a
turbulent crowd, who threatened to crush us to death; but the Mahdi,
seeing us in danger, turned back, and ordered us to walk in front of his
camel for protection. We did so, but were too weary to keep up, and then
the Mahdi gave orders, which we could not understand, to a number of
different emirs; the latter ordered us to halt until the great rush of
people had passed, then they formed a square and asked each one of us
separately whether we agreed to become Moslems or would prefer to suffer
death. Each one of us answered resolutely--death! Then, full of anger,
we were forced on--exhausted and covered from head to foot with
dust--till we reached the Mahdi's hut. Having arrived there he said,
"Have you not seen my army?" and then he began to boast of the number
of his followers and their great bravery. We said nothing. He then went
off, and we were taken back to Khalifa Abdullah's hut.
A council was now held to consider our fate; the majority were for
killing us, but a certain Hajji Khaled--now an emir in Omdurman--pointed
out that, according to the Moslem law, it was not lawful to kill priests
who had not offered any armed resistance, and who were, moreover,
captives. His view of the case was accepted, and we were handed over to
George Stambuli, who was made responsible for us. We then left
Abdullah's hut, and proceeded to Stambuli's, which was barely large
enough for himself and his family, so we were obliged to take up our
quarters outside in the open, where we remained for fifteen days,
exposed to the continual insults of the Arabs, until we were able to
build a hut for ourselves. We were now able to take a survey of this
gigantic camp. From the sandhill Gianzara almost up to the base of the
Om Herezeh mountain, was one mass of small huts, these were merely
enclosures made of branches of euphorbia and (sorghum) dhurra stalks,
just sufficient to keep off the burning rays of the sun. Here and there
a white tent indicated the headquarters of some important emir. Fiki
Minneh's camp adjoined that of Gianzara, and extended from Fulla (a
small pond which runs dry in the summer months), up to the base of Om
Herezeh. The huts were built so close to each other that constant fires
took place, which spread rapidly, and caused great destruction.
This enormous camp presented a wonderful spectacle, more especially at
night, when almost every one had his own cooking fire, and the whole
plain resembled a sea of fires which were lost in the distant horizon.
The din and noise created by hundreds of thousands of men, women, and
children, can be better imagined than described. Every emir's[D]
dwelling was known by two flags which were always planted near the
entrance, and beside them lay the war-drums, which were beaten day and
night, almost without intermission. Besides all this, the neighing of
thousands of horses rendered the din still more unbearable. The whole
air was infected with the most sickening stench; but to these wretched
people, pure or impure air makes no difference; they do not mind. All
the filth was piled behind the huts, dead donkeys lay about unburied; no
attempt was made to keep the place clean, and all this huge mass of
people lived in the midst of an ever-increasing heap of rotting
impurities. A daily market was held, and the people laid their goods on
the ground, sheltering themselves under a strip of cloth, known as
"Farda," stretched on the points of lances, the bases of which were
stuck in the ground. El Obeid was close by, the great arched gate of the
Mudirieh towered above the other houses of the town, and over it floated
the red Egyptian flag, which was hoisted every Friday. Some of the
Dervishes used to conceal themselves in the deserted houses of the town
and fire at the fort, while others pulled down the roofs and walls and
dragged away the beams to the camp, and there cut them up for firewood.
Our church, which was covered with galvanised iron plates, was
completely destroyed; even the mosque was not spared. There was a busy
scene day and night at the Oshra well; here thousands of male and female
slaves drew water, and frequent quarrels and fights took place.
All this change of scene made a deep impression on me; the strain of the
last few days, the tiring journey from Delen to El Obeid, the continual
uncertainty as to our fate, anguish, fear, din, tumult, bad food, had
already considerably affected our health, and now that we were at rest,
and that the Arabs had ceased to molest us, the re-action came, and we
fell a prey to disease. The infected atmosphere of El Buka--as the
Mahdi's camp is always called--brought on a burning fever and constant
diarrhoea. Besides all this, when confined with the robbers in
Abdullah's house, we had become covered with horrible vermin; it was
impossible to get rid of them--they seemed to increase daily. We had no
clothes to change, and as we had scarcely enough water to drink, washing
was out of the question. With a feeling of utter despair we lay helpless
and comfortless on the floor of that miserable black hut. Our maladies
became worse, and ere a month had passed, three of our number were dead.
Sister Eulalia Pesavento, of Verona, died of fever on the 28th of
October; carpenter Gabriel Mariani died of dysentery on the 31st of the
same month, and sister Amelia Andreis died on the 7th of November, while
we four who still remained, hovering between life and death, lay
helplessly side by side with our dead brothers and sisters. It was a
terrible exertion to us to sew the corpses in mats and drag them to the
door of the hut. At length some slaves--much against their will, and on
the promise of good pay--removed the already decaying bodies, and buried
them in shallow pits, which they covered up with sand. No one lent a
hand to bury these "Christian dogs," as we were called. It was a
terrible grief to us not to accompany our poor companions in adversity
to the grave, but we were all too ill to move, and so they were carried
away to their last resting-place without prayer or chant; and even to
this day I cannot tell if the slaves really buried them, or merely
dragged the bodies beyond the huts, and left them lying there on the
ground.
The condition of us miserable wretches who were still alive is beyond
description; we envied our companions, who were now beyond the reach of
human suffering; but our hour had not yet come. Towards the end of
November we were somewhat recovered, but our lives seemed to have been
spared only to behold more terrible sights and sufferings than we had
previously undergone.
Meanwhile, more of our companions in adversity had arrived from Dar
Nuba. Shortly after we had been made over to Stambuli, Roversi came, and
was interviewed by the Mahdi, who received him well, and presented him
with a horse. Roversi recounted to us the story of his misfortunes;
during his journey from Delen to El Obeid he was frequently in danger of
losing his life; the Baggaras, mindful of their defeat at his hands,
thirsted for vengeance. Roversi owed his life to his magazine rifle. He
used to visit us daily and tell us of the various plots of which we were
the intended victims. He told us how the Arabs had determined to take
the sisters, and that they intended to distribute us amongst the various
emirs. This news terrified the sisters, and there is little doubt that
the bare thought of it hastened the deaths of the two who were so ill.
Roversi further informed us that a quarrel had occurred between Mek Omar
and the Nubas regarding the distribution of the loot taken from our
Delen Mission; a conflict had taken place, in which Mek Omar had lost a
number of his men, and had been obliged to retreat from Delen to
Singiokai.
After Roversi's arrival the Mahdi wrote to Said Pasha again, summoning
him to surrender; Roversi also, by the Mahdi's order, was forced to
write to the Mudir, telling him that resistance was useless, as it was
out of the question to hope for reinforcements from Khartum. Towards the
end of October Roversi fell ill with dysentery, caused by the infected
and foul atmosphere of the camp; the last time he came to see us he was
very weak; then we heard that the Mahdi had suddenly ordered him to
Kashgil for change of air, and a few days later we heard that he was
dead. Some said he had been killed, others said that he had been
poisoned by Ismail Wad el Andok, in revenge for his defeat at
Golfan-Naïma. Roversi's maid-servant, Aisha--a black girl brought up in
Constantinople--and his man-servant, Hajji Selim, reported that they had
found his shoes in the forest, and his dead body in a hut. The
unfortunate young Roversi was barely thirty years of age, a Protestant
by religion, and a man for whom we all cherished a great affection. The
date of his death was probably the 3rd of November, 1882. A few days
after this date Mek Omar and his men arrived in the camp, bringing our
Delen blacks with them. The latter at once came to see us, and soon
afterwards all of them--both boys and girls--were sold as slaves, whilst
the more grown-up youths were drafted into the Mahdi's army. Two of the
girls, one an Abyssinian and the other a black, became concubines of the
Mahdi. A cruel fate soon overtook Mek Omar: it was reported that he had
concealed some of the captured booty, and he was at once put in chains
by the Mahdi's order. Shortly afterwards he sent for us, and Bonomi and
I paid him a visit. We found him shackled with two chains on his feet,
and a chain about fifteen feet long round his neck; the poor man was
completely bowed down with the weight of these chains, and begged us
most humbly to intercede for him, as he told us it was the Mahdi's
intention to have him beheaded. The condition of this unfortunate
individual so touched us, that Bonomi went to the Mahdi and represented
that it was really the Nubas who had stolen the booty, and so Mek Omar
was released.
As we slowly began to recover from our illness, the thought of release
was constantly in our minds. We applied to the powerful Elias Pasha,
whom we had known very well in El Obeid. This blind old pasha received
us kindly, but said that Abdel Kader Pasha in Khartum, was furious with
him for having joined the rebels; he therefore said that our best course
was to apply daily to the Mahdi, who in time might perhaps be moved to
grant our release. We followed his advice, but it was no easy matter to
make our way through the crowd of fanatics who surrounded his hut day
and night, all struggling to get a sight of his face which, it was said,
shed rays of light. Pushed about, shoved in every direction, and
insulted, we might perhaps succeed in reaching the doorway; but here we
were stopped by the guards, and it was almost impossible to pass them.
However, after superhuman efforts, we succeeded twice in interviewing
the Mahdi. He listened kindly to our entreaty, and then said, "At
present the roads are dangerous, and I wish no harm to come upon you;
when El Obeid has surrendered, we will permit you to go to your own
country." He advised us to wear kuftans (the Arab outer garment), for
hitherto we wore merely a shirt and drawers, as he said that, dressed in
this way, we should escape the inquisitive glances of the multitude and
we took his good advice.
FOOTNOTES:
[D] The title "Emir" really means "Prince," and is far too high
a title to give to these wretched chiefs; but as it is the Sudan custom,
I must retain it.--J. O.