ARRIVAL IN DONGOLA
Instead of our starting off the next morning at sunrise, a sort of
“fantasia” was held. This consisted of men riding up and down the
camp with mimic combats between individuals—a sort of circus display.
Stricter watch was placed over me, and my guards warned against
allowing me to hold conversation with any one. At sunset we were off
again, and the following day halted in the desert, El Ordeh (Dongola)
being then, I was told, a few hours’ distant. We rested probably a
couple of hours, and marched until evening, but had not yet sighted
Dongola. A final search was made for concealed loot, and a piece of my
leather bag having been discovered on one of the men, he was flogged,
and, offering to confess, confessed that he had found the bag empty on
the ground. His clothing, and that of his section was searched, and
resulted in the discovery of seventeen of my Turkish dollars; a further
application of the courbag resulted in the discovery of the remainder
of the three hundred dollars, and a third one, of the greater part of
the jewellery. The flogging and searching delayed us, |42| and instead
of travelling that night, we only got away in the morning, arriving
within sight of Dongola at noon, when men were sent in to report our
arrival.
While awaiting the return of the messengers, discipline—what there
was of it—was relaxed, and the camp given over to jubilations. The
attentions bestowed upon me were not pleasant; both by words and
actions I was given to understand what the men hoped and expected would
be my fate. A respite was granted, when the man who had received the
floggings was brought to me so that I might certify that all the things
discovered on him and his companions were extracted from my cash-bag,
and that all the articles had been recovered. He seemed none the worse
for his experiences, and the matter was explained to me. When the Ansar
are flogged, upon an expedition, for a theft which, as the Emirs know,
every one would commit, so many stripes are ordered to be given; these
are given with the courbag (rhinoceros-hide whip) on the fleshy part of
the back, and over the clothing.
He forgave me, and blamed the sugar for his discovery. The
sugar-loaves, which were part of the goods of the Arabs who had joined
the caravan at Wadi Halfa, had been broken up and distributed. At the
wells some of the men had been noticed dipping pieces in the water and
munching them, and none of the sugar having been handed in when the
loot was collected, the first search was instituted, and this resulted
in the discovery of other hidden loot. I do not happen to know who
might be |43| the “father of sugar,” but I trust that the curses and
imprecations showered on his head by my dervish friend may not reach
him.
Hasseena was brought to be searched, and stripped naked; she cleverly
dropped my seal in the sand, and pressed it in with her foot. I
had asked her to get this seal from Elias, as, with this in their
possession, the dervishes might have written, through my clerk,
whatever letters they chose, and sealing them with my seal, have made
them appear authentic. Hasseena was again questioned as to who I was,
and persisted in saying that I was a merchant and not a Government
official, and while she was being threatened with the courbag, which in
this instance would have been applied as the cat-o’-nine-tails is at
home, the Emir Hamza came forward as a witness in my favour. Hamza was
another who, friendly as he was to the “Government,” had been driven
into the ranks of the dervishes. After the final search, a move was
made towards Dongola, opposite which town we arrived between two and
three o’clock in the afternoon. Before the town we descried a grand
parade of troops taking place, and as we halted a band struck up; from
the sound which reached us, the band must have been composed of bugles
and trumpets of all shapes, sizes, and pitch, with just as varied an
assortment of drums. In the medley they played could be heard snatches
of the so-called Khedivial hymn.
When the prisoners had been ranged up in such a manner as to make their
exhibit most effective, and when I, as the prisoner of the occasion,
had been |44| placed in the midst of the Emirs, a signal was given,
on which the horsemen of the paraded army charged down upon us in
their much-lauded and over-rated exhibition of horsemanship. This
exhibition consists of individual and collective charges right on to
the opposing line of onlookers, a sudden pulling up of the horse which
throws it on to its haunches, a meaningless shaking of swords and
spears over one’s head, a swerve to the left or right, the direction
being dominated by the half-broken jaw for which the sudden pulling
up with the brutal ring-bit with which the horses are ridden (?) is
responsible; another charge, and so on until the rider is tired or the
horse jibs. This is the usual programme, but it is occasionally varied
by accidents to horses and riders and onlookers, as, for example, the
affair of Khaleefa Ali Wad Helu, who, some few days before the battle
of Omdurman, gave an inspiriting exhibition to the faithful in front of
the Mahdi’s tomb, in order to instruct them how to charge the British
lines, and spoiled the whole thing by being thrown, breaking his wrist,
laming the horse, and nearly killing half a dozen of his most ardent
admirers who were in the front rank. This is not fiction.
[Illustration: THE KHALEEFA’S TENDER MERCIES.]
The parade and exhibition, called El Arrdah, given in celebration of
our capture, lasted more than an hour, when a move was made towards
Dongola, and on arrival at the town, Wad Hamza and Wad Farag led me
to the gateway of Nejoumi’s enclosure. We were kept waiting at the
entrance for some time, and it was as much as my guards could do to
protect me from the rabble; the people were in a most excited |45|
state, and my position was not rendered any the more comfortable by
my understanding the language. I was prodded with spears and swords,
and maybe for a quarter of an hour—it may have been more, it may
have been less—I was subjected to as severe an ordeal for patience
as ever man was put to. Many of those in the rabble knew me from
pre-abandonment days, but the cringing supplicants of former days were
now my bitterest foes and tormentors. Curses and imprecations are such
common accompaniments in ordinary disputes in the East—disputes over
the most trivial matters—that little new could assail my ears in a
country where a child just learning to babble may be heard, in childish
innocence, to lisp to its mother, “Il la'an abook,” or a much shorter
expression which, owing to the large number now understanding Arabic,
I cannot here use, but both of which expressions are in constant use.
It was the suggestive actions—some of beheading, some of mutilations,
others of a description which I may not even hint at, which nearly
drove me to exasperation; they did so actually, but I controlled
myself, and did not allow my exasperation to exhibit itself in any way,
either by word or deed.
On entering the enclosure, I was shown to a small room, on the floor of
which three people were sitting; one rose, and, taking my hand, said,
“El Hamdu lillah,” “Bis-Salaamtuk” (thanks be to God for your safety).
I was told to sit down. The three scrutinized me, and I returned their
gaze. For some moments nothing was said, and I was determined not to
be the first to break the silence. Presently food was brought |46|
in, and I was told to partake of it. As with the first meal with the
Emirs, I set to with a will, and continued eating after the others had
finished, taking not the slightest notice of my hosts. I was acting a
part, I admit, for indifferent as I might have appeared to all taking
place around me, I was at the same time “all eyes and ears.”
When I had finished, the one who had first spoken to me, and whom I
had guessed was Nejoumi, “introduced” himself to me. He prefaced the
series of questions he put to me by saying, “Do not be afraid; I hope
it will be my pleasure to receive you into the true religion, and we
shall be good friends.” Nejoumi assured me that I should soon get
accustomed to my new mode of life, and would in the end bless him for
having saved me. He then told me that he knew perfectly well who I
was, and, not being a “Government man,” my life was safe at his hands,
but my property, having been found in a caravan of enemies, must be
confiscated. I did not follow his reasoning, nor was I allowed to, for
he sent me off to the house of the Amin Beit-el-Mal (storekeeper or
director of the Beit-el-Mal), with instructions that I should be well
attended to. Hasseena was sent into the hareem of the same house.
Early the next morning Nejoumi sent for me, and upon arriving at his
enclosure, I saw that he had a number of Sheikh Saleh’s men under
examination. I learned later that some had admitted that I was once
in Government employ, and had fought against the Mahdi, but that now
I was a merchant only. There were, of course, numbers in the town who
remembered |47| me in connection with the expedition, and in order
to curry favour, they were not averse to credit me with exploits
and prowess which, if related to and believed in by the British
authorities, would have placed me upon an unearned pedestal. In this
instance they were related in the hope that I should be placed on
the now well-known “angareeb,” which in a few seconds would be drawn
away, leaving me suspended by the neck. When my turn for interrogation
came, my letter-wallet was handed to Nejoumi; he had, no doubt, had
the contents examined the night before. His first question was, “Which
are the Government papers?” I declared that there were none, and that
all the papers were business ones. He then inquired, “Are there no
papers from the friends of the Government?”—to which I answered, “There
may be; I am a merchant; I buy gum, hides—anything from the Soudan,
and sell them again to any one else who will buy them from me. It is
‘khullo zai baadoo’ (all the same) to me who the people are—friends or
enemies of the Government—provided they pay me. I gave good money for
what I bought, and wanted good money for what I sold.” Nejoumi then
told me that he had had the letters translated by a girl educated in
the “Kanneesa” (church) of Khartoum. General Stephenson’s letter had
been translated as a “firman” appointing me the “Pasha” of the Western
Soudan, with orders to wage war on the dervishes, for which purpose I
had been provided with money, rifles, and ammunition, and about forty
or fifty men as my personal bodyguard.
At first I was dumfounded; then, serious as my |48| position was,
I could not restrain myself from bursting out laughing. I protested
that the translation was false, and asked to be shown the document.
I was not shown it. To a man whom I surmised was the Kadi, I said,
“If the letter is a ‘firman,’ then it should be written in Arabic,
as the Soudanese did not read or understand English.” This remark
appealed to Nejoumi, who said that he did not believe the translation
himself, _as it was quite different from the news he had received from
Hassib-el-Gabou_. I made inquiries about this black female convert to
Christianity, and learned that she knew not a single word of English,
but few of Italian, and, like the remainder of such converts so-called,
went to the mission for what she could get out of it. I have forgotten
her name, but hope to discover it before completing my notes, when I
shall give it. It would be interesting to learn how much Christian
money had been wasted on the education of this supposed convert,
married then to a Danagli, and a shining light amongst the most
fanatical of the women, who, with their songs and dances, fanned the
flame of fanaticism amongst the men.
More of Saleh’s men were brought in and questioned—I questioned with
them. In the end, I admitted that General Stephenson’s letter asked me,
if I was passing Sheikh Saleh’s district, to tell him that arms and
ammunition were awaiting him at Wadi Halfa; but that I had nothing to
do with the sale of them, was proved by my arriving after they had been
taken over, and my papers would show that I had not sold them to him,
and that I was not going to collect the money for them, |49| as they
believed. The remainder of that conference is only a haze to me now,
but I remember that later the same day I was told that Nejoumi, pressed
by the other Emirs, had, in order to elicit the truth by frightening
the others, ordered the execution of fourteen of the Arabs who had
joined us at Wadi Halfa. Emin, my guide, for some reason or another
which I never discovered, was ordered to be executed at the same time,
and was first to be beheaded. My surmises upon this incident had better
be left to my next chapter.
On the following morning, the Amin Beit-el-Mal ordered me to get ready
to attend a “fantasia” which Wad en Nejoumi had arranged, and at which
he had ordered me to be present; but, being his prisoner, I must appear
as one, for which purpose a light ring and chain was placed on my neck,
and a light chain fastened to my ankles. On arrival at Nejoumi’s place,
I found the Kadi trying to persuade Darb es Safai and about twelve or
thirteen of Saleh’s men to become Mahdists. Darb es Safai was their
spokesman. They scorned the exhortations of the Kadi, and heaped on his
head whatever insults they could. Nejoumi was present, and to him Darb
es Safai said, “We have ridden behind our master, Sheikh Saleh, and we
refuse to follow you on foot as slaves; we have come here to die—let
us die.” Being told that if they persisted in their stubbornness they
would be killed, Darb es Safai repeated, “We have come to die—let us
die.” I was then removed to a small mud hut, told to sit down, and
here hundreds of the populace came to see me, flinging at me all the
abuse their rich language is |50| capable of, striving with each other
to excel in virulence. Darb es Safai and the others had been marched
off a short distance, and set to dig a shallow trench; when this was
finished, they were ordered to kneel at its edge, and their hands were
tied behind them; this action is practically the declaration of the
death sentence. Es Safai asked to be beheaded last, as he wished to see
how his men could die. Only one jumped to his feet when a few heads had
rolled into the trench, when Es Safai called out, “Kneel down. Do you
not see these cowards are looking at us?” This was the “fantasia” I was
to have assisted at, but, by some misunderstanding, I was spared the
horrible spectacle.
When the executions were over, my chains were removed, and I was again
taken before Nejoumi, and questioned as to what property I had in the
caravan, and also if I had any slaves. I said I might not possess
slaves, but had two servants—Elias, my clerk, and Hasseena, who was a
freed slave, and now my female servant. Elias had been cross-examined,
but had evidently, in his fright, contradicted himself time after time.
First he said he was my clerk, then he was the servant of some Ali Abou
Gordi of the Alighat tribe, then trading in the Soudan. Nejoumi told me
that, if Elias’s last tale was true, he could not be returned to me,
as he must be an enemy. I did my best for Elias, telling Nejoumi that
he was a good clerk and good writer, and that he might be very useful
to him in writing letters. Hasseena was brought in and protested that
she was my slave, not my servant; |51| that I had bought her, but,
as slaves were not allowed by the Government, I had had to give her a
_shehaada_ (certificate) declaring her free. Nejoumi made a present of
her to one of the men present, and on this Hasseena squatted on the
ground and refused to budge. She screamed to Nejoumi that he might, if
he chose, marry her himself, but said that whoever her husband might
be, he would die the same night, since she knew how to poison people
secretly. She knew nothing whatever about poisons, but this remark
probably was the reason for her being sent to the Khaleefa, as she
might be useful. She was sent back as “property” to the Beit-el-Mal.
My ordeal was not yet over; other chiefs came in, and the conference
opened soon developed into a heated, if not acrimonious, discussion
and dispute. I did not know Soudani sufficiently to follow all that
was said, besides which three or four were speaking rapidly at the
same time; but I gathered that Nejoumi wished to keep me by him, as he
believed that I might be made useful in signing letters which my clerk
would have to write. The others, believing the girl’s translation of
the letter, were for despatching me to the next world, and sending my
head as a gruesome present to the commandant at Wadi Halfa, accompanied
by the supposed “firman.” It is not a pleasant experience to sit down
and hear your fate being discussed, conscious that the sentence will
be carried out immediately. No criminal ever scanned the face of a
jury on its return to court as I did those of my savage captors, with
ears strained to catch every familiar |52| word; and, difficult as
it is after all these years to attempt to give a real analysis of
one’s feelings then, I can remember gloating over the thought that,
if death were the sentence, I would spring at the throat of the first
Emir I could reach, with my nails buried in and tearing at the flesh,
until a blow would finish all, and so rob the fanatical horde outside
of the pleasure of seeing a hated “Turk” publicly executed. That the
recollection is no imaginary one may be guessed from the fact that,
when I asked about Gabou’s “health” at Assouan after my release, one
part of that conjured scene sprang up, and doubtless would have been
acted, had Gabou been alive.
Nejoumi only partly won his point—I was to be sent to the Khaleefa.
Seven men were sent for, and Hasseena and I placed in their charge.
Nejoumi gave me some clothing, and also a hundred dollars from the
three hundred taken from me, and we were ordered off that night.
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