THE REAL HISTORY OF THE CAPTURE
(Extracts.)
“He (Nejoumi) captured in the Oasis of Selima a large part if not
the whole of the rifles. This was mainly owing to the imprudence
of an enterprising German merchant named Charles Neufeld, who had
accompanied the convoy, and, desirous of obtaining a supply of water,
had descended to the Oasis, where he was captured by the enemy.”
“. . . Most of them were killed, and a few, including Neufeld, were
taken captive to Dongola; there they were beheaded, with the exception
of Neufeld, who was sent to Omdurman, where he arrived on March 1,
1887.”
March 21, 1887.—“Sixty Kabbabish have arrived, sent by their chief to
take over arms and money.”
May 15, 1887.—“Mr. Neufeld is reported to have diverged from caravan
of Kabbabishes to Sheikh Saleh to Bakah Wells, and to have been taken
prisoner by the dervishes, as well as a few Kabbabish letters are said
to have been captured; none from this office were entrusted to him”
(Blue Book No. 2, 1888—Nos. 50 and 90).
“Neufeld was now free. His release was owing to one of the Emirs
representing to Abdullah Khalifa the great service Neufeld had been in
enabling arms and ammunition to be taken from the Kabbabishes at the
time Neufeld was captured” (Letter to Mrs. Neufeld from War Office.
Cairo, 10.3.90). |54|
It would be as well to give at once the real history of my capture
as regards the circumstances and the arrangements made to effect
it. I received the details first from Ahmed Nur Ed Din, who, some
months after my capture, came to Omdurman on his own initiative to
try and effect my escape. His version was confirmed and amplified by
my intended companion Hogal, who again fell into the hands of the
dervishes in 1897, and was imprisoned with me until we were finally
released a few months ago.
The treachery of Gabou has also been confirmed by Moussa Daoud Kanaga,
who has just arrived from the Soudan to meet me, he having heard of my
release and arrival at Cairo. Moussa was one of the Soudan merchants
with whom I had had many dealings in former days, and believing he
could do something towards effecting my escape, he, after many attempts
to reach me, finally succeeded in doing so in September, 1889.
Instead of wearying my readers with snatches from one narrative and
the other, I will try, combining all, to make one clear and connected
story, having for this purpose deleted from the last chapter remarks
and questions put to me by Nejoumi at Dongola in order to introduce
them here.
The guide I had engaged for the journey, Hassib-el-Gabou, belonged to
the Dar Hamad section of the Kabbabish tribe which was settled in and
around Dongola. Gabou was employed as a spy by the military authorities
on the frontier, but there is not the slightest doubt that he was at
the same time in |55| the pay of Wad Nejoumi. He related to each side
just sufficient to keep himself in constant good grace and pay, and
failing authentic news of any description, he was able to fall back
upon his intimate local knowledge, his double dealings, his knowledge
of the people and language, and a fund of plausibility which at the
present day would not pass current for five minutes.
Between the Dar Hamad section, and the section acknowledging Saleh
Bey Wad Salem as their head, there were a number of old outstanding
jealousies which had not been settled; what they were all about I
cannot pretend to say, but one of the principal was, whether Sheikh
Saleh or the head of the Dar Hamads should be considered the senior.
It may not have been forgotten by those who have taken an interest
in Soudan affairs, that the existence of these tribal jealousies and
disputes between divided tribes was taken full advantage of by the
Mahdi and Khaleefa, in very much the same way as a political agent
runs one section of a party against another, and gains _his_ point, at
the cost and discomfiture of the others who, for the time being, were
unconsciously playing his game for him. Sheikh Saleh’s party were the
real Bedawi (men of the desert), and, therefore, more reliable than the
Dar Hamads, who had the “belladi” (town) taint or stigma attached to
them.
Gabou’s first plan was, according to his lights, to act loyal to his
section of the tribe, and so to arrange matters that the arms intended
for his rivals, Sheikh Saleh’s section, should fall into the hands
of his people; with those arms turned against the |56| dervishes,
he might see his section come to the front as _the_ support of the
Government, and maybe be in possession of the coveted title of Bey
and a Nishan (decoration), if his plans succeeded. I have no doubt
that, had his first plan succeeded, he would have been prepared with
a plausible tale, and gaining any slight advantage over the dervishes
would certainly have atoned for his defections. His plan as originally
conceived was as follows:—First, he wrote to his own sheikh giving
him full details of the arms and ammunition awaiting Saleh’s caravan,
and there is every reason to believe that the letters sent by General
Stephenson to Sheikh Saleh in the first instance, were delayed by Gabou
until his plans were complete. The guide Hassan, whom I believed had
been engaged at the last moment, had been engaged some time before, and
fully instructed in the part he had to play. Gabou had promised his
people that after Sheikh Saleh’s caravan left El Selima Wells, they
would be led towards the Wadi el Kab instead of El Agia Wells, so that
even had we filled our water-skins at leisure at Selima, we should only
have been provided with four, instead of eight days’ water, and two
days on the desert without water has its discomforts. When a Bedawi
will travel two or three days without water and not murmur, it can be
better imagined than described what Gabou’s promise to hand us over
“thirsty” meant; it meant precisely what actually did occur—the madness
of thirst approaching—the lips glued together, the tongue swollen and
sore in vain attempts to excite the salivary |57| glands—the muscles
of the throat contracted, and the palate feeling like a piece of
sandstone, the nostrils choked with fine sand, and the eyes reddened
and starting, with the eyelids seeming to crack at every movement. Only
those who have experienced what we did during those last days on our
journey to Wadi el Kab, can fill in the missing details in the history
of Esau selling his birthright for a mess of pottage.
The Dar Hamads, on receiving Gabou’s news, made their preparations;
arms buried in the ground to conceal them from the dervishes were
unearthed, but the very evident activity of the people excited the
suspicions of Wad Nejoumi. Believing that a revolt was intended, he
prepared to meet it; but, having his spies about, bits of the real
truth leaked out. Gabou was put to the test; either written messages or
messengers were sent to him by Nejoumi, asking about Saleh’s caravan
and the purposes for which they had gone to Wadi Halfa. When Gabou saw
that his first scheme had miscarried, rather than the caravan should
fall into the hands of his rivals, he preferred to reveal to Nejoumi
the plot he had planned for the benefit of his own people. It was on
this account that he had, as related, tried at one time to get me to
abandon the projected journey; and, as can be understood, there were
many reasons for his sending word to Nejoumi saying I was to accompany
the caravan. His keeping back of Ismail, the leader, day after day, was
only to allow of his messages reaching Nejoumi in time for him to make
complete preparations for intercepting us. |58|
Hogal arrived at Wadi Halfa the very evening of our departure, and sent
over his message. Gabou met him and gave him his confidence. He told
Hogal the means he had used to try and get me to abandon the journey,
but that he dared not give me the real reasons, as he knew I should
report the matter, and his head would then be in danger; he had done
the best he could by letting Nejoumi know who and what I was. Still
dexterously playing his cards, and to keep Hogal quiet, he said that he
knew that the English were going away; they certainly would not take
him with them, and as he and Hogal had their family ties in the Soudan,
unless he worked with Nejoumi, his “good word” would be of no avail
to his family and friends when the dervishes came down to occupy the
abandoned towns.
I trust that my readers are now beginning to see the light through
this dark conspiracy, and that I am making the narrative sufficiently
intelligible and clear without constantly requesting you to turn back
to earlier pages.
Gabou, playing a double part himself, and being naturally suspicious
of every one in consequence, thought that I might have divined his
treachery when the camels did not overtake us, and might change our
route in consequence; these suspicions he communicated to Nejoumi. Had
he not done this, I might have forgiven him—for it was every one for
himself in those days. There was not the least necessity for him to
warn Nejoumi that we might change our route on discovering that the
guide was leading |59| us in the wrong direction, for had Nejoumi’s
men _not_ found us, Gabou would not have been blamed.
Nejoumi, on receiving the news, despatched a large number of dervishes
under Wad Bessir to Umbellila, opposite Abou Gussi, and another
under Osman Azrak to El Kab opposite to El Ordeh (Dongola), and Said
Mohammad Wad Farag, Mohammad Hamza, Makin en Nur and Wad Umar to the
various wells in the Wadi el Kab, the latter having orders to keep
the Dar Hamads in check. I am giving this list of now famous names
from recollections of what I was told at Dongola and Omdurman, not for
the purpose of thereby investing with a halo of barbaric romance an
incident which was nothing more nor less than a bit of highway robbery,
but more with the idea, that should any of those named be still living,
and eventually come into the hands of the Government, they might be
questioned as to this affair, and their account compared with the
series of contradictory passages which head the present chapter.
Wad Farag sent a flying party to Selima Wells, led by a slave of Wad
Eysawee, named Hassib Allah. It was Hassib Allah who had fired the
shot we heard on the day of our arrival at Selima. When taken before
Wad Nejoumi at Dongola, one of the questions put me was, “Did you see
any one, or hear a shot fired the day you reached Selima,” to which I
answered “Yes,” as regards the latter part of the question, thereby
making an everlasting friend of Hassib Allah, as a reward had been
promised to whoever should first sight us and hurry back to the main
body with the news; |60| he had fired the shot, so that the question
might be put. Even in this you may gauge the amount of faith or
confidence the Ansar had in the word of their Emirs, and the amount of
credence a European might give to their tales when they lied to, and
deceived each other with such charming impartiality.
After despatching Hassib, Wad Farag divided his party, sending one
to the district between Wadi el Kab and the Nile, and the second,
commanded by himself, he led to the desert to intercept us. The Alighat
Arab sent out as a scout, who did not return, must have either been
captured by Farag, or what is more likely, as he was sent out by
Hassan, was an emissary of Hassan’s to Wad Farag or any of the other
dervishes to give them the news, as Hassan must have been aware of our
position and the proximity of the dervishes. The tracks we had picked
up on the road, when the embers of the caravan’s fires were found still
hot, were the remains of the fires of Hassib’s men, who had kept within
touch of us the whole time, only losing touch on the day following the
disappearance of the Alighats.
On reaching the broken ground leading to El Kab, my guide Amin and
the two others had been allowed to pass unchallenged intentionally,
as the dervish plan was to form themselves into three parties, which
were to rush us from three sides at the same moment. It was in direct
disobedience of orders that the first shots were fired at us, but it
was probably done by some one to gain the promised reward for sighting
us, and it ended, as already related, in a general fusilade. The |61|
camels loaded with filled water-skins were left behind purposely, but
their being left was a happy thought at the moment of Farag’s men. When
they retired, it was only to join the other section which was to have
rushed us from the left; the section to rush us in the rear being a
little further out in the desert than the plan shows.
Our leader Ismail I never saw or heard of again; he may have
succeeded in escaping altogether, only to be killed when the virtual
extermination of the tribe took place and Sheikh Saleh, standing on his
sheepskin, fell fighting to the last.
This account of the capture of the caravan, and the explanations given,
though not agreeing in essentials with the accounts given officially,
may be accepted as being as nearly correct in every detail as it is
possible for memory to give them, and the occasion was one of those
in life where even twelve years’ sufferings are not sufficient to
obliterate the incidents from the mind.
I feel some little confidence in offering to the world my version of
the circumstances attending my departure from Wadi Halfa for Kordofan,
the date upon which I really did leave Egypt—as unfortunate a date for
me as it evidently has been to some of my biographers,—and the actual
circumstances attending my capture, as I happened to be present on
the various occasions spoken of, and I do not think it will be asking
too much if I request that the same amount of credence be given to
my own story as has been given to that of others referred to in my
introduction, and in the extracts which head the present chapter. |62|
It now remains, before closing this chapter, to deal with Dufa'allah
Hogal and his part in the affair. In my first letter from Omdurman,
which letter was written for me by dictation of the Khaleefa, I am
made to say that I blamed Hogal for his deceit, but at the same time
thanked him for his deceit, as it had led me to grace. This was a
clever invention of the Emir’s at Dongola, or the Khaleefa himself, to
get Hogal into trouble with the Government, and draw away suspicion
from Hassan and Gabou. This letter was received by one of my clerks at
Assouan, who fortunately retained a copy before forwarding it on to
Cairo; a translation of it will be given later.
Hogal is not to be blamed for keeping his own counsel after Gabou
had given him his confidence. He had nothing to gain by telling the
authorities the truth, and he had everything to lose if he did. The
Khaleefa’s spies were everywhere in the Government and out of it, just
as the Government spies were amongst the Mahdists, and there can be no
doubt but that they were paid by both sides—and who is to blame them?
Hogal’s family ties and relations were in the Soudan, and there was no
use in his raising a question over a dead man. I may have something
to say about guides and spies later on, but it will not be with the
idea of calling any of them to justice. The only justice they knew
of was that contained in “Possession is nine points of the law,” or
“Might conquers right,” and it suited their natures admirably to play
a double game, rendered so easy for them with a Khaleefa who, having
made up his mind to |63| do a certain thing, ever kept that object in
view, and worked for its accomplishment, whilst on the other hand was
a Government which in their opinion did not seem to know its own mind
from one day to another as to what should be done with the Soudan and
its subjects resident there.
|64|