ON CAMELS ACROSS THE GREAT NUBIAN DESERT.
Father Ohrwalder and Sisters Venturini and Chincarini escape--The
ride for life--The rencontre with the Dervish guard near Abu
Hamed--Alarm of the party--The journey across the great Nubian
desert--Five hundred miles on camel-back in seven days--Arrival at
the Egyptian outpost at Murat--Safe at last--Arrival in Cairo.
On Sunday evening I went to see a friend and returned at nine o'clock;
this happened to be the last visit I was to make in Omdurman. Just as I
stepped into my yard, there I saw Ahmed standing before me. In a few
hasty words he told me to get ready as soon as possible; his friends had
made a mistake and had come a day earlier with the camels. The sisters
and Adila were all ready; I gave Ahmed the few small things I had as
well as my arms, and told him to take the sisters to the appointed
place, which was only about thirty yards from the hut, whilst I went off
and informed the only person who was in the secret, of our sudden
decision to leave a day earlier.
All fear had now gone, and, almost beside myself with excitement, I
hastened to my friend's house and knocked at the door. "Who's there?" he
asked. And when he knew who it was he was greatly surprised, and asked
why I came so late. As some one else was standing near, I said that I
had been seized with a violent pain, and had come to beg a few drops of
laudanum, and then I approached him, pressed his hand, and whispered in
his ear that we were on the point of starting.
The poor man received such a start, that had he not caught hold of
something, he would have fallen; but I roused him by asking him loudly
to get me the laudanum at once; so he went off to his room, and there,
with a trembling hand, he put a few drops on a piece of sugar. I took it
back to the house, which I found the sister had just left. Then wrapping
myself in a black mantle, I locked the door, and took the key with me. I
saw something dark in the distance, which I knew must be the camels, and
thither I picked my way. In a few moments I had reached the spot, and a
man whom I did not know helped me on to my camel; but there was no time
to ask questions. Ahmed put the sisters on the camels, on which the two
other Arabs rode, whilst I took Adila behind me on my camel.
Not thirty yards from where we were was a well, around which a number of
female slaves were gathered; but the little noise we made was drowned by
their laughter. The moment of mounting was perhaps the most dangerous
time, for the camels were restive, and longing to be off. It was with
the greatest difficulty the Arabs managed to keep their mouths closed,
and no sooner were we on their backs than we glided swiftly away into
the darkness. Now and then we saw fires, at which the people were
cooking their food, or sitting around gossiping; fortunately it was a
cold night, so most of the people were in their huts. We passed the spot
where we had laid the poor sister who had recently died; it was sad to
think that she was not with us now. We kept steadily moving forward, not
a word had passed our lips; the camels had been well fed up on dhurra,
and went so quickly that we could scarcely hold them in. I tried to peer
through the darkness, while my ear was ready to catch the slightest
sound of possible pursuers.
Soon we had left Omdurman far behind, and in the soft sand-bed of Khor
Shambat we dismounted to have our saddles re-arranged; then we mounted
again, and pursued our journey at a rapid pace northwards along the
river bank. We were in all seven persons and four camels: the guide
Ahmed Hassan, his two friends Hamed and Awad; Sister Catterina
Chincarini and Sister Elizabetta Venturini; myself and Adila.
A cold north wind was blowing, which our rapid advance made quite
cutting. I followed the Arab custom, and bound a large turban round my
head, leaving only the eyes exposed. We passed several villages, but the
barking of the dogs always gave us warning, and so we avoided them. I
had not heard a dog bark for years, and the sound was quite pleasing to
me. We met some Gellabas riding on donkeys, on their way to Omdurman,
but in the darkness they could not see who we were, and we passed them
rapidly; only Ahmed remained behind, to greet them and exchange news.
Now the narrow track led through thick bushes, which we could not
rightly see; our clothes, hands, and feet got torn and scratched by the
thorns; but we never checked the pace, and continued our course steadily
northwards. "Time is money," they say, but in our case time was life; we
crossed dry beds of streams, over which the animals would sometimes
stumble and fall, the riders with them; but there was no time to think
of pains and bruises; to pick oneself up, catch and mount the camel,
which might easily have been lost in the desert, was all one had time to
think about. None of us had watches, but during the many sleepless
nights I had passed, I had become used to observing the stars, and could
tell the time almost to within five minutes.
Just at dawn we neared the village of Wad Bishara, and pushed on quicker
so as to pass it before daybreak. This village is generally considered
two days north of Omdurman. We then left the ordinary track, and turned
towards the desert, as we dared not go along the river bank during the
daytime. At sunrise we could just see the thin strip of green which
marked the course of the stream; still we did not alight, but pushed on
and on, up and down hills, across long stretches of sandy plain. Our
eyes became so red and swollen we could scarcely see, and they pained us
considerably.
At length, after some hours, we drew up, dismounted ate a little
biscuit, and drank some water, readjusted our saddles, then up and away
again. My mind travelled back to Omdurman. Had our flight been
discovered at once? What would happen to those left behind? How
astonished they would be to find we had gone! But this train of thought
was suddenly interrupted; one of the sisters had fallen off her camel,
and was lying insensible on the ground; we picked her up, splashed her
with water, and after a time brought her to; we then put her on to the
camel again, and tied her firmly to the saddle; there was nothing else
to be done--it was a question of life and death. So we rode continuously
forward, in the desert by day and along the river bank by night.
I had asked Ahmed about the stranger who had helped me to mount my camel
in Omdurman, and he told me that the animals had become so restive by
good feeding that it was impossible for one man to hold them whilst the
other two came to the hut to fetch us; he had therefore taken two
friends into his confidence, and made them swear on the Kuran that they
would not betray us. Just after sunset they had ridden the camels quite
openly through the market-place, with their arms slung across the
saddles, so that people should think they were post-camels, and no
suspicion would be created.
Ahmed told me more too about the difficulties he had had in stabling the
camels prior to our flight; two of them had been tethered in a poor
woman's yard, and the two others he had placed in charge of one of his
friends; but these caretakers had guessed that something was about to
happen, and had urged Ahmed to depart as soon as possible, for they
began to think they might become involved in the matter. Ahmed had paid
them most liberally for their services; he had also had recourse to
magic, summoned the spirits, and consulted a fiki, who prophesied the
journey would be "as white as milk," that is to say, that no mishap
would occur, for which statement Ahmed had given him a considerable
bakshish.
We continued our journey always along the left bank of the Nile, there
was no time to stop for sleep. Occasionally we came across Arab
shepherds in the desert tending their herds of goats. They gazed
wonderingly at us, and asked questions of Ahmed, who purposely always
remained a short way behind. Ahmed drew a gloomy picture of the recent
rising in Omdurman, describing how the two Khalifas had openly fought
with each other, how nothing was heard night and day but the roar of
cannon and the rattle of musketry, while the slaughter had been terrible
beyond words. He represented that we were fugitives who had left the
ordinary roads, fearing that the disturbed state of the country might
make them unsafe, for bands of brigands were known to be roaming about.
These simple people, thoroughly detesting Mahdiism, believed every word
Ahmed told them, thought we were wise to fly, and gave him as much milk
as he wanted, a fact which he also regarded as a good omen.
Although Ahmed and his friends knew the usual roads well, they had never
been on exactly the track we had been forced to take to avoid the
inhabited places. Thus it happened that we approached the river sooner
than we expected; in fact, almost before we knew it, we found ourselves
amongst houses in the village of Makani, which was so concealed by trees
that we had not seen it. We then met a party of Gellabas, and at Ahmed's
advice at once slowed our pace so as not to provoke mistrust. These
Gellabas looked at us somewhat suspiciously, and tried in vain to find
out the object of our journey. Probably they remembered us afterwards
when our flight became known.
At length, after some difficulty, we emerged from the village and again
turned into the desert; but when I blamed Ahmed for misguiding us, he
merely answered cheerfully, "Allah marakna!" ("God has delivered us!")
When we had got some distance from the river, we dismounted and had a
slight meal of dates and water. Our limbs were so stiff we could not
stand up straight, and our clothes were sticking to the wounds we had
received when riding through the bush. How delightful it was to be on
the ground again and stretch our cramped legs, and how pleasant would a
short sleep have been! But no sooner had the camels swallowed a little
dhurra than we were up and off again. We still went in a northerly
direction, and as our scratches warmed again they pained us
considerably; but the feeling that we were not pursued, and the growing
hope that we should really escape, encouraged us to overcome every
difficulty. We watered at Gubat on the Nile, where the English had
encamped in 1885, and then we rode cautiously, well outside the great
village of Metemmeh. The barking and howling of the dogs made the camels
quicken their pace, and soon we were out of sight of the Jaalin capital.
We then began to discuss how we were to cross the Nile. Ahmed had a
friend living in a village just south of Berber, and it occurred to him
that we might cross there. We trotted quietly on towards this village,
when a man suddenly sprang out in front of us and cried, "Enta min?"
("Who are you?") But we soon found out that the man was afraid, and had
taken us for robbers. His sudden appearance had given us a great start,
and we at once thought that our pursuers had caught us up, and that we
were about to be recaptured. Ahmed, however, approached the man, and as
we rode on, he turned, spoke to him, and allayed his fears.
When we approached the village, we dismounted and hid behind some thick
bushes, whilst Ahmed went in search of his friend who was to ferry us
across. In about half an hour he returned, saying that it was
impossible, as the boat was on the other side. Besides, he had heard
that two boats had just passed down on their way to Berber, and that all
disturbances in Omdurman were at an end. However, they had heard nothing
about our flight. We therefore mounted again, and continued marching
north the whole of that night and the following day.
On this, the third day of our journey, we came in sight of Berber, and
towards evening descended to the river almost exactly opposite the town,
filled our waterskins, and then made for the desert again. We did not
dare keep near the river here, as numbers of Baggara were living in the
neighbourhood. At about midnight we alighted, as Ahmed did not know the
road. We fed the camels, and indulged in our usual meal of biscuits,
dates, and water. Ahmed had also succeeded in procuring from his friend
some tobacco and small earthenware pipes; so we smoked with impunity,
and began to feel that our escape was now almost assured.
But we had still before us the crossing of the river, which our Arab
friends in Omdurman had warned us would be one of the most critical and
dangerous parts of our plan. We were in the saddle again at dawn, and
continued our journey over a stony plateau which our guides did not
recognize. Then all day we marched through narrow valleys, full of large
stones washed down by the torrents. At length towards evening we sighted
the river again, and descended towards it through a narrow gorge, where
we had to dismount, as the camels could scarcely make their way across
the great boulders which blocked the path. Once on the plain, our guides
recognised the road, and we found ourselves near the village of Benga,
where we hoped to be able to secure boats to take us across.
We advanced now very cautiously, looking round in every direction; and I
espied three camelmen setting off evidently in the direction of Abu
Hamed. I at once called Ahmed's attention to this; and although they
were some way off, they could have seen us, so Ahmed advised us to
alight at once, which we did, and concealed ourselves in a khor amongst
some bushes.
Ahmed and his companions were, I could see, not a little alarmed by the
appearance of the camelmen, and began to speak to each other in their
own dialect; but I guessed by the expressions on their faces what they
thought--viz. that our flight had been discovered, news had been sent to
Berber, and now the camelmen were on their way to warn the emir of Abu
Hamed to intercept us. I endeavoured to prove to them that it was quite
impossible for the news to have reached Berber yet, even if our flight
had been reported to the Khalifa the morning after we had left. It was
most unlikely that the pursuit would have been begun before the evening,
and we had thus got a good twenty-four hours' start. We were then just
four hours north of Berber, and had been three and a half days out from
Omdurman. Our pursuers therefore, even if they had ridden as rapidly and
as persistently as we had, could not possibly have reached Berber yet.
But my calculations by no means convinced our guides; and after a long
consultation, Ahmed and Awad went towards the river about four miles
distant, while Hamed stayed behind to look after the camels.
Now was the time to take a few hours' sleep before night came on. During
the three and a half days we had been on the journey we had had only
four hours' sleep. We were quite worn out; our simple meals of biscuit
and water did not give us much nourishment, our limbs were so stiff that
we could scarcely move, and our wounds proved most irritating. Under
such circumstances it can well be understood how welcome sleep would
have been; but the appearance of these three camels, the alarm of the
guides, and our anxiety about crossing the river, drove away all idea of
rest, and all we could do was to await with what patience we knew the
return of the two Arabs.
At length, just as the sun was setting, Ahmed and Awad returned, much
rejoiced. They had made inquiries about the three camelmen, and had
found out that they had nothing to do with us, and that nothing was
known yet of our flight. They had arranged with a boatman to ferry us
across, under the pretext that they were conducting a small party of
slaves whom they were going to hand over to the emir of Abu Hamed. This
most satisfactory news quite dissipated our fatigue, and we ate our
wretched biscuit and dates with an excellent appetite. As soon as it was
dark we moved towards the river, and dismounted close to the water's
edge. As yet there was no sign of the boatman, but we saw two boys
rowing towards us.
Meanwhile Ahmed had gone to a house close by to get some dhurra. Then
the boatman came and announced that he could not take us across that
night, but we must wait till the morning. This would never have done;
not only should we have lost a whole night, but we should undoubtedly
have been recognised in daylight. However, it was no use talking, and
the man went off to his hut; but we did not get discouraged, for if the
worst came to the worst, we could row ourselves across.
By this time the two boys had reached the bank, and they now came
forward and offered to take us across; of course we accepted, and in an
incredibly short space of time our guides had got the camels on board.
It was a large boat, so we all crossed together, and on reaching the
opposite bank Ahmed gave the boys two dollars, with which they seemed
highly pleased, kissed our hands, wished us a pleasant journey, and then
returned to the west bank. We watered the animals, filled our skins,
mounted, and again set our faces northwards.
It was now past midnight. The camels, refreshed by their rest and good
feed, pushed on quickly, and during that night and the whole of the next
day we rode on without any interruption or mishap. Not a soul was to be
seen in this lonely desert, but we often came across herds of antelopes,
rabbits, and a few hyenas; the antelopes would stand about twenty paces
off, prick up their ears, and look inquisitively at the strange caravan.
It was quite cool when we left Omdurman, but now the weather had quite
changed, and we felt it oppressively hot; we saw mirages constantly, and
were often deceived by them. Our camels and ourselves now began to
suffer. I was much struck by the change in the appearance of these
animals; the high, fat hump and thick neck they had in Omdurman had both
grown to half the size. At first we had the greatest difficulty in
holding them in; now they were so tired that we had to keep flogging
them all the time; their feet had got so worn that treading on a stone
made them jump sideways, and to ease them we four men alternately
dismounted and led them for some distance.
Our track lay across a broad plain, dotted about with small shrubs, and
as we passed one of these, Ahmed noticed a snake, scared by our
approach, trying to escape; he at once killed the reptile with a blow of
his sword, then stretched out its body and jumped over it three times in
a most excited way. Thereupon the guides congratulated each other,
saying there was now nothing more to fear, and that we had conquered our
enemies. This exhibition of courage on the part of the guides pleased me
greatly. Once more we mounted and made our way towards Abu Hamed, where
we intended to take water for the last time before entering the great
Nubian desert.
The next night another snake episode occurred, but it ended rather
differently. We were going across a stony place, when the leading camel
suddenly swerved to one side, and we heard a hissing sound, which we
knew must be a snake, but it was too dark to attempt to catch it. This
greatly alarmed the Arabs, who looked upon it as an evil omen, and
curiously enough, when close to Abu Hamed, an event did occur which
quite confirmed their superstitions.
The next day, at about nine o'clock in the morning, we sighted the
mountain which was our landmark indicating the place at which we
intended to water. We anticipated reaching it in three hours, and there
we intended to rest whilst the Arabs took the camels down to water; but
somehow we went too far to the east, did not discover our mistake for
some time, and it was midnight instead of midday when we reached the
hill. This hill is shaped rather like two skittles, between which the
road runs, and the wind, blowing through this narrow funnel, almost
carried us off our camels.
Ahmed warned us to keep perfect silence as we scrambled down the rocky
slope, and reached the river at last; here the mighty stream flows
rapidly and silently at the foot of a great rock cliff, the stillness
being occasionally broken by the splash of the many fish which delight
to disport themselves in these cool depths. This watering-place is known
as Meshra Dehesh, and is about six miles south of Abu Hamed. A few dôm
palms and shrubs have gained a slender footing on the steep bank, and
the reflection of the bright stars in the silent river could not but
make one feel impressed with the grand solitude of the place. I bent
down, scooped up the water in my hands, and refreshed my parched throat;
then we took the saddles off the camels, filled our water-skins, and ate
some biscuits; I wanted to bathe my face and eyes, which ached with the
burning of the sun and sand, but Ahmed gave the word to mount.
We were too stiff and weak to be able to stand upright, and as for the
poor sisters, Ahmed had to lift them bodily off the ground and put them
on their camels; they were far too exhausted to speak; we led the camels
out of the stony gorge, intending to mount when we reached the level. It
was long past midnight, and we were congratulating ourselves on having
passed the last critical point, hoping that by dawn we should have left
the river, which here bends to the west, far behind us.
[Illustration: "WE HAD SCARCELY GONE TWENTY PACES FROM THE RIVER, WHEN
SUDDENLY WE HEARD THE SOUND OF A CAMEL."]
We had scarcely gone twenty paces from the river, when suddenly we heard
the sound of a camel. We were almost ready to drop with fright, but
Ahmed and the guides went towards the spot from whence the sound had
come, and there they saw a camelman mounted, armed with a Remington, and
peering at us from behind a dôm palm, but it was too dark for him to
have recognized our white faces. Ahmed at once approached him, seized
his rifle with his left hand, and extended his right to greet him,
asking him at the same time to alight.
The man, alarmed probably at Ahmed's energetic bearing, at once
dismounted and joined the guides. At first we thought orders must have
come from Omdurman to intercept us, but fortunately it was not so; the
guard (for such he proved to be) said he had been sent from Berber to
see that Egyptian merchants did not export slaves from the Sudan to
Egypt. He related how, the day previous, a merchant with five slaves had
been captured, but had been set free again on depositing the value of
the slaves. The guard then asked Ahmed if he had brought any slaves, to
which he replied in the affirmative.
The guard now insisted that Ahmed should go to Abu Hamed to see the emir
there, and no amount of argument would convince him that it was
unnecessary to do so. Hamed now came and told me about the occurrence,
but, being somewhat confused, he happened to say we were lost. These
words reached the ears of one of the sisters, and so startled her that
she fell off her camel, and might have been very seriously injured had
we not caught her.
I gave Hamed my long knife, and told him to do what he could to win the
man over with money, but that if he found this was useless, "Well! we
were four men to one." Hamed quite understood what I meant, and then
returned to the others. The conversation still continued for a long
time. At length our Arabs returned; we put the sisters on the camels at
once, and then mounted ourselves. Our fatigue had fled; even the camels
seemed to scent danger, for we set off at a quick pace and were soon out
of sight.
This episode served to remind us very forcibly that we were still in the
Khalifa's territory. Strange thoughts passed through my mind in quick
succession: Omdurman, the Khalifa, the Saier, unbearable insults, then
death. All these awaited us if we failed in our attempt; but then I
comforted myself with the thought we should never be taken alive; we had
solemnly agreed never to submit. It was in this frame of mind that we
quitted Meshra Dehesh and rode for our lives night and day; the poor
camels were reduced to skeletons, and we ourselves were nothing but skin
and bone.
Ahmed told me that when the guard recognized him he showed himself
kindly disposed, and promised not to betray us; but Ahmed did not trust
him, and would not, therefore, let him go until he had accepted some
money; he had pressed twenty dollars into his hand. The guard accepted
the money after extracting a solemn promise from Ahmed and his
companions that they would not attempt to revenge themselves on him or
his tribe--the Monasir--on their return to Korosko. The guard also swore
solemnly that he would not betray or pursue us, and moreover agreed to
prevent the patrols going into the desert for three days, so as to keep
us out of danger's way; they had then embraced and kissed each other as
a sign of sincerity.
In spite, however, of all these solemn oaths, I did not trust the man;
the fate of poor Colonel Stewart and his companions came into my mind,
and I remembered that they had been cruelly done to death by the
cowardly and treacherous Monasir; we therefore hurried forward our
camels with all possible speed, leaving Abu Hamed far away on our left.
The day broke as usual, and soon the sun was risen and burning more
fiercely than ever, but that did not trouble us. We were far too much
absorbed in the momentous event which had just occurred. Our track ran
through a perfectly flat plain, in which not a shrub or blade of grass
was to be seen. We passed the tracks of the captured slave-dealer and
the patrols, and that evening entered on the caravan road leading from
Abu Hamed to Korosko. The track ran through great bare hills and
solitary valleys; the wind had driven the sand almost to the tops of the
hills, and had filled up all the crevices with sand-drifts.
Once within the hills, our courage returned, for we knew we would be
able to defend ourselves; so we dismounted and ate our last mouthful of
biscuit, and now all we had was our water, which, by the way, we
jokingly remarked was somewhat dear, as it had cost us twenty dollars.
After a short rest we set off again, but both we and our camels were
utterly exhausted; my right arm ached from continually whipping up the
poor beast. Our Arab companions lightened the way with hundreds of
interesting anecdotes of their own deserts. They related how, when
Berber fell, an Arab and six Egyptian women had fled; but the man had
brought only a camel or two and very little water, so four of them had
died of thirst. They pointed out the spot which Rundle Bey had reached
when he reconnoitred Abu Hamed in 1885. The road was plainly marked out
by the bones of camels and donkeys, and, prior to the appearance of the
Mahdi, had been a much-used trade route.
Mohammed Ali Pasha had ridden along this road under the guidance of
Hussein Pasha Khalifa. Mohammed Ali had constantly expressed a desire to
halt, but his guide would not allow him to dismount, except at certain
places, saying, "I am commander here;" and to this Mohammed Ali had
willingly consented, for he well knew that a refusal to do as he was
told by the sheikh of the desert, in that awful wilderness, might have
been followed by very serious results.
Our approach to a haven of safety gave us courage to undergo most
terrible fatigue. By far our worst enemy was sleep; it is quite
impossible for me to describe the fearful attacks this tyrannical foe
made upon us. We tried every means in our power to keep awake; we
shouted and talked loudly to each other; we tried to startle ourselves
by giving a sudden jerk; we pinched ourselves till the blood ran down,
but our eyelids weighed down like balls of lead, and it required a
fearful effort to keep them open. "Ma tenamu" ("Don't sleep"), Ahmed
kept repeating, "or you will fall off and break your leg."
But it was all no good; the conversation would flag, and silence follow.
The camels seemed to know their riders were asleep, and instinctively
fell into slower pace; the head kept nodding, until it sunk upon the
chest; with a sudden start, the equilibrium which had been almost lost
would be recovered, and then sleep vanished.
At times we would shout out to one another words of encouragement, then
we would whip up our camels and on again, up and down, through sandy
plains and rocky gorges, where the echoes seemed to repeat themselves a
hundred times. Our destination was Murat, where we remembered Gordon had
given orders for a well to be dug, but it had never been done.
Ahmed said that we should be at Murat on the morning of the 7th of
December. He told us how the Dervishes had sometimes pursued fugitives
as far as this, and not long ago had killed one near here. Our poor
camels were now dragging their weary limbs very slowly; the whip was now
quite useless, as it had not the smallest effect in increasing their
pace. Besides, it was pain to me to beat the good creatures that had
helped us to escape. We were so utterly fatigued that it was with the
greatest difficulty we succeeded in keeping on our camels at all;
hunger, sleeplessness, and absolute lassitude had completely conquered
us, and our wounds pained and irritated us; but the feeling that we were
almost safe was as balm to both mind and body.
Just before sunset we turned down the khor which leads to Murat; the
fort covering the wells was visible on the hills, surmounted by the red
flag with the white crescent and star in the centre. "Ahmed," I cried,
"greet the flag of freedom!" and our courageous deliverer seized his gun
and fired shot after shot into the air, to announce our arrival to the
Egyptian garrison. The echo of these shots resounded again and again in
the deep valleys, as if joining with us in our joy at deliverance from
the hands of the cruel Khalifa Abdullah. They seemed to announce the
"release of our spirits from beneath his sheepskin." This was an
expression which the Khalifa delighted to use when talking of his
captured enemies, whose souls, he said, lay beneath his "furwa," meaning
that their lives were entirely in his hands.
Now we were actually in safety. A prayer of the deepest gratitude went
up from the very depths of our thankful hearts; it is quite impossible
to find words to express what we then felt. Our camels seemed to pull
themselves together for a final effort, so as to present us honourably
to the Ababdehs, who were now coming out to meet us.
The reports of our rifles had at first caused some stir in the little
garrison, who feared a sudden attack, and had come out fully armed; but
they soon recognized us, and answered our salute by discharging their
guns in the air. These good people received us most kindly, asked us a
thousand questions, and, surrounding us, brought us to the commandant's
hut. Here, on the 8th of December, the Feast of the Immaculate
Conception, we alighted from our camels, and the hopes which had kept us
alive for years, were at last realized. This supreme moment, about which
we had so often talked with our companions in adversity, which we had
thought about, dreamed about, and pictured to ourselves, this delicious
moment had come at last, and we were free!
But the effects of hunger, fatigue, and the sights and scenes we had
gone through during the last month, did not disappear so easily; our
senses seemed dulled, and our first thought on entering the commandant's
hut was to lie down on the floor and go to sleep, but, strange to say,
that wonderful restorer would not come; we sat gossiping with the
Ababdehs, who could scarcely credit that we, especially the sisters,
could have survived such a ride. We had covered the entire distance of
500 miles between Omdurman and Murat in seven days, including the day we
had spent wandering about in the hills before crossing the river.
The staying power of our camels had astonished me; how easily one of
them might have stumbled and broken its leg as we trotted hard through
the dark nights, unable to see where we were going! But Ahmed and his
companions had used all their knowledge in securing thoroughly good
animals; our excellent guides had been ever ready to help and assist us;
full of energy and pluck, they had carried out their enterprise with the
utmost sagacity and integrity.
Poor Ahmed had dwindled down almost to a skeleton, and when he
dismounted at Murat was overcome by a fit of dizziness, from which he
did not recover for an hour.
Meanwhile we had refreshed ourselves with a cup of coffee and some bread
and milk which the commandant, Mohammed Saleh, had offered us, and
which had revived us considerably. Murat is situated in the desert,
about midway between Korosko and Abu Hamed; here three valleys unite in
a sort of crater, and the hill-tops are crowned with small forts built
by the Ababdehs, from whence they can keep guard over the main wells,
and, besides, see for an immense distance all around.
This, the most advanced Egyptian outpost, is garrisoned by the Ababdeh
Arabs of Saleh Bey, the son of Hussein Pasha Khalifa; these people live
very simply in the midst of this great desert, drawing their provisions
monthly from Korosko. There are a number of wells, but the water is
brackish and in summer almost undrinkable, though it is not so bad in
the winter; but we had still some of our Nile water, which had cost us
so dearly at Meshra Dehesh. Close to the wells is a little hut, built by
Gordon's orders.
Murat is a most desolate and lonely spot, unbearably hot in the summer,
when the fierce rays of the sun are reflected from all sides of the deep
crater-like valley in which it lies. The same day that we arrived one of
Ahmed Hassan's nephews had reached Murat from Korosko, and gave us some
of the dates and flour he was taking into the Sudan; he left for Abu
Hamed the next day, and no doubt the news of our safe arrival was soon
announced in Omdurman.
During the 8th and 9th of December we rested. Mohammed Saleh supplied us
with some biscuit, and on the 9th we again set off from Murat towards
Korosko. Our rest had greatly refreshed us, and now we could ride
quietly without any fear of pursuit. One of our guides was mounted on a
she-camel, which the commander had supplied, and she gave us plenty of
milk. A few days before starting her little baby-camel had died, the
owner had skinned it, and now whenever we required milk, we had only to
stretch out the skin in front of her and let her smell it.
We now rode only by day, and rested at night. Heavy rain had fallen
about a month before, and we found a reservoir of good water about a day
out of Murat. Some of the Murat garrison had, previous to our arrival,
gone into Korosko to get their monthly pay and were now returning; they
happened to encamp near this natural reservoir, and seeing us took us
for Dervishes, rushed to their arms, took up a position behind a rock
and levelled their rifles at us, but Ahmed, who knew them at once,
called out and they hurried up to us, begging pardon for the mistake
they had made. They gave us some of their flour, dates, and tobacco, and
we chatted with them till nightfall.
We made no further extended halt, and on the early morning of the 13th
of December reached Korosko. In the deep valley which debouches suddenly
on to the Nile at this place we alighted, cleaned ourselves as best we
could, and then mounted our camels for the last time, and soon came in
sight first of the palm-trees and then of the Nile, which we had last
seen at Abu Hamed. We were at once surrounded by numbers of people, who
bore us off to the fort, and here the commandant, Lieutenant-Colonel Ali
Bey Haider, greeted us most cordially, and for the first time for many
years we found ourselves in comfortable rooms again, and listening to
the regimental band, which we greatly enjoyed.
On the evening of the 15th of December we got on board a steamer which
took us down most comfortably to Assiut. Here we were greeted by Mr.
Santoni and Brother Sayer, who had been directed by the Cairo Mission to
come on board and welcome us. From Assiut we took the train to Cairo,
where we arrived safely on the 21st of December, 1891.
The rapid transition from barbarism to civilization, our pleasant
journey from Korosko to Cairo, intercourse with educated people, the
incessant change of scene, all affected us greatly; but our joy and
delight at being free was somewhat saddened by the thought of the
sufferings of our poor companions in our adversity, whom we had left
behind in slavery and captivity. Our guides accompanied us to Cairo,
where they received the money agreed upon, and we felt full of
thankfulness to the energetic Ahmed Hassan and his two companions; but
to our good Archbishop Sogaro we owe a deep debt of gratitude, for it
was through his intermediary all arrangements for our happy release had
been effected.
It may be as well to insert here the terms of agreement made in Arabic
between Monsignor Sogaro and Ahmed Hassan regarding our release. The
wording is as follows:--
"I, the undersigned, Ahmed Hassan el Abbadi, of Bashri Mohammed
Ali's Arabs, agree to proceed at once to Omdurman to bring Father
Ohrwalder and the two nuns from Omdurman to Cairo. I agree to take
care of them on the journey, and to do all in my power to bring
them here and to give them every satisfaction. As a reward and to
recompense me for the expenses which I shall incur between Omdurman
and Cairo, Monsignor Sogaro has agreed to give me:--
"1. All the goods to the value of £100 now in possession of Sheikh
Abdel Hadi at Korosko.
"2. £20 in advance before leaving Cairo.
"3. On my return from Omdurman with Father Ohrwalder and the two
nuns, a sum of £300, _i.e._ £100 for each person.
"This is the agreement between me and Monsignor Sogaro, and I have
made it of my own free will and accord, and have been in no way
forced to do so by any one. Monsignor Sogaro and myself signed this
agreement, and Wingate Bey, Assistant Adjutant-General,
Intelligence, stands as a witness. This agreement will be kept in
the War Office until I return from Omdurman with the three persons
above-named, and I shall be dealt with in accordance with its
contents.[U]
"Signed, AHMED HASSAN EL ABBADI,
"of Sayala, Frontier Mudirieh.
"LÉON HENRIOT (for Monsignor Sogaro).
"Cairo, 9th July, 1891."
Below is written in English:--
"This is a private agreement between Monsignor Sogaro and Ahmed
Hassan el Abbadi, who leaves Cairo for Omdurman on Friday, the 20th
July, 1891, and will attempt to bring Father Ohrwalder to Egypt.
"Witnessed by me, F. R. WINGATE,
"Kaimakam,
"A. A.-G., Intelligence, Egyptian Army.
"War Office,
"9th July, 1891."
I was, of course, intensely anxious to hear what had occurred in
Omdurman after our departure. I thought that our flight would have
remained undiscovered that night, the following day, and possibly the
following night; but it was not so. Early in the morning on the 30th of
November our absence was discovered by some women who had been standing
before the door of my house. They had seen us and were surprised,
because we did not usually leave the house after sunset.
The idea of flight did not probably at once occur to them, but their
suspicions were aroused. Early in the morning they had knocked at my
door, and receiving no answer, related what they had seen to my
neighbour's slave, who in turn informed her master. He, in great terror,
carried the information to the mukuddum of the Europeans. This man,
accompanied by many of my friends, hastened to my house, and, breaking
open the door, was assured of my flight by finding a letter which I had
left.
The poor man had, to save his life, to at once inform the Khalifa, who
ordered the sheikh of the market to find us even should we be buried in
the earth. Wad er Rais therefore closed all the houses and arrested
every one who could possibly have known of my flight, and threw them
into chains, with threats of the gallows and the knife. My neighbours
were also arrested. When he could get no information whatever from these
people, the Khalifa sent to Metemmeh a certain Ibrahim Wad el Ahmer,
who had three camels, and was ordered to bring us back at all hazards.
But the beit el mal had first to buy the camels at very high
prices--120, 110, and 87 dollars respectively--and before they could
start some busybody told the Khalifa that Khalifa Sherif had concealed
me in a boat belonging to a certain Osman Fauzi, and had aided my flight
in order that I should move the Egyptian Government to the support of
his oppressed party. Another declared that he had seen white faces in
the boat.
These statements impressed the Khalifa, who sent men at once to
recapture the boat and examine the passengers. The boat was captured
near Omdurman and examined, of course, with no result, on which the
Khalifa was pacified, and sent off the camels. Ibrahim inquired minutely
along the route to Metemmeh, but could get no information. In the
meantime those well disposed towards us lived in the keenest
apprehension lest we should be recaptured. Only on Ibrahim's return
without any news could our friends breathe freely and feel sure that we
must have got away safely. Then those who had been imprisoned were
released.
Later on I received a letter from Omdurman telling me that our flight
had raised a commotion throughout the whole city, and that the prisoners
had to suffer very much. It may be learned from this what grave
consequences had to be considered before I took the important step of
flight. Should anyone else attempt it, those who remain must suffer. May
God protect our poor companions!
FOOTNOTES:
[U] This contract and all correspondence connected with it was
kept sealed in the Intelligence Office, and was opened by General Sir F.
Grenfell, Sirdar, on the 14th day of December, 1891, when the news of
the arrival of the party at Korosko reached Cairo.--F. R. W.