RUMOURS OF RELIEF
[Illustration: ONOOR ISSA.]
Soon after the departure of Onoor Issa I was saved any further
trouble in the way of scheming for excuses to get out of the Saier.
Awwad-el-Mardi, the successor of Nur-el-Gerafawi as the Amin
Beit-el-Mal on the appointment of the latter as director of the
Khaleefa’s ordnance stores, had been approached by Nahoum Abbajee and
others on the subject of the extraction of gold and silver from certain
stones which had been discovered in the neighbourhood. Awwad sent
Nahoum to see me about the erection of a crushing-mill or furnaces. My
interview with Nahoum was a stormy one. It commenced by his upbraiding
me for the pranks I had played in smashing the arsenal punching-machine
when we were associated in the establishment of a mint. The more I
laughed the angrier Nahoum became; he is deaf, and like most deaf
people, invariably speaks in an undertone, which is as distressing to
the hearer as is the necessity he is under of bawling back his replies.
It is next to impossible to hold a conversation with a deaf person
without the natural result of raising the voice exhibiting itself in
the features; the annoyance is there plain |227| enough, but when
the face flushes with the unwonted exertion, your deaf friend thinks
you are getting angry, and follows suit. This is precisely what Abbajee
did. He showed me his specimens, and I bawled into his ear, “Mica—not
gold, not silver—mica;” and he yelled back, “Gold, silver, gold.” The
noisy discussion, accompanied as it was with gesticulations, attracted
other prisoners around us, and Nahoum went off in high dudgeon.
When he had gone, a few of my friends asked why I did not offer to
assist him, and even if the thing was a failure, they thought I
was clever enough to find something else to do; but, as they said,
“promise anything provided it gets you out of the Saier.” There were
excellent reasons, but which I might not confide to them, why any work
I undertook to do should occupy months, and, if necessary, years in
completion. To offer to assist Nahoum in extracting gold and silver
from such stones meant that two or three weeks at the outside would
evidence our failure to do so, and then it was Saier again for me.
Whether any work I undertook to do for the Khaleefa was to end in
success or failure was immaterial to me; but it was very material
that the result, whatever it was to be, should not be attained for
months, as by the time my guides returned, the conditions surrounding
my escape might have so changed as to necessitate an entire change in
plans and programme. They might even entail the guides’ return to Cairo
or the frontier, and this occupied months. But the advice to accept
Nahoum’s proposals and trust |228| to luck for discovering some other
excuse for remaining out of the Saier when failure could no longer be
concealed, appealed to me, and, in reply to my offer of assistance, a
messenger came from the Khaleefa ordering the Saier to hand me over to
the director of the Beit-el-Mal. His other instructions were that the
bars and heavy chains were to be taken off my feet and legs, and that
I was to be secured by a single pair of anklets connected with a light
chain. While this change was being made I received the congratulations
of the gaolers and prisoners, and (February, 1896) was escorted out
of the prison by two guards to enter upon a new industry which had in
it as much of the elements of success as would accompany an attempt
to squeeze blood out of a cobbler’s lap-stone. I had not forgotten
Shwybo’s fate.
When I reached Khartoum, Awwad-el-Mardi had not yet arrived. It was the
month of Ramadan, and as all transactions were in abeyance until after
sunset, I was not allowed to land until Awwad arrived to hand me over
officially. I was left alone on one of Gordon’s old steamers, moored
at the spot where Gordon fell, and where the victorious Sirdar and his
troops landed to conduct the burial service. During the hours I had
to wait gazing at the ruined town and the dismantled palace which saw
the martyrdom of as good a man and soldier as ever trod this earth, I
ruminated over his blasted hopes and my own. I shall not pretend to
call to mind all the thoughts which surged through my brain as I paced
alone over the shell-and bullet-splintered deck; but you can imagine
what they |229| were when I reflected that I was the only European
in the Soudan who had fired a shot for Gordon, and that I was now a
captive in the hands of the successor of the Mahdi, gazing at the
ruined town from which, just eleven years ago, we had hoped to rescue
its noble defender. I should be ashamed to say that when Awwad did at
last come I was not in tears.
I felt more acutely than I did when first taken to Khartoum to be
“impressed,” and still more acutely than when I was hurriedly bundled
into the old Mission to start the saltpetre works. For the first time
since my captivity I had been left absolutely alone. I was sitting
on one of that fleet of “penny steamers” which, had Gordon not sent
down the Nile to bring up his rescuers, might have saved him and the
Soudan in spite of the wicked delay resulting from the attempt to make
a theatrically impressive show of an expedition intended to be one of
flying succour to the beleaguered garrison and its brave commander,
praying for months for the sight of one single red coat. Gordon, I had
been told, towards the end, called the Europeans together in Khartoum,
and telling them that, in his opinion, the Government intended to
sacrifice him, recommended them to make their escape. A deliberate
attempt to sacrifice him could not have succeeded better. What wonder,
when such thoughts as these and many others had been affecting me for
hours, that when Awwad came, as darkness was setting in, the darkness
of night had settled too upon my mind. He, believing that my chains
were the real cause of |230| my depression, ordered that they should
be exchanged immediately for lighter and smoother ones, for the anklets
and chains given me by Idris were rough in the extreme.
After being officially handed over to the Governor of Khartoum, the
question arose as to my quarters. I was offered quarters in his house,
but I had already experienced life amongst his Baggara bodyguard,
and begged hard to be allowed to live in the same place with Nahoum
Abbajee and Sirri—the former telegraph-clerk at Berber, with whom I was
to work. We were given the house of Ghattas, an old slave-dealer, to
live in. It was one of the best houses left standing in Khartoum, and
boasted an upper floor, which was taken possession of by Nahoum Abbajee
as head of what I might call the gold syndicate, while Sirri and I
shared the ground floor. In the East the West is reversed; you climb to
the garret with your rising fortunes, and descend with them, as they
fall, to the lower floors. Instead of having Saier or Baggara guards to
watch me, Awwad gave me some slaves from the Beit-el-Mal as guardians,
and they had, in addition to watching me, to perform the household
duties; in fact, they were my servants.
After the evening prayers, Awwad called together the employés of the
arsenal and my guards, and explained to them that I was no longer
a Saier prisoner; that my chains were left on only to prevent the
Government people taking me; that I was “beloved” of the Khaleefa,
and was to be treated as his friend, and that if any one treated me
differently, he would be sent to |231| take my place in the Saier.
Awwad then taking me aside under the pretence of giving me instructions
from the Khaleefa, said, “I am your friend; do not be afraid; if you
cannot find gold and silver, tell me of anything else you can do,
and I will see that the work is given to you, so that you may not be
sent back to the Saier.” As Awwad was then a perfect stranger to me,
I at first had suspicions in my mind as to the genuineness of his
friendship; but he was a Jaalin, and I trusted him.
We were told to get to work at once with the extraction of the
precious metals. As the engineer, I had to design and superintend
the construction of the furnaces to be made by Hassan Fahraani (the
potter), who also supplied the crucibles. Our first furnace crumbled to
pieces after being started, and a stronger one had to be made. Then the
crucibles gave out. We did all we could to coax gold and silver out of
those stones, and obtained some extraordinary results. We added earth,
common salt, saltpetre, oxide of lead—anything and everything to the
split stones in the crucibles. Sometimes we found the crucible and its
contents fused together. The only thing we actually found which gave an
idea that we were working for metals was a small shiny black ball, very
much resembling a black pearl, and this Hamadan at once took possession
of and carried off to Abdullahi, telling him that it only required time
for us to succeed. Hamadan, being our chief, was much interested in the
work, and he was doubtless looking forward to the day when part of the
contents of the crucibles would find its way to him. |232|
But our experiments were destined never to be finished. About April,
1896, rumours first, and then precise news, reached Omdurman that the
Government troops were again advancing. Then came the startling news
that Dongola had been taken, only to be followed by the news of the
capture of Abou Hamad. The fulminate factory presided over by Hassan
Zecki had run short of ingredients, and as the stock of chlorate of
potash ordered from Egypt had not arrived, it was believed that now the
troops held all the country between Dongola and Abou Hamad, it would
have no chance of getting through. Abdalla Rouchdi, the chemist of the
Beit-el-Mal, had, with Hassan Zecki, failed to produce chlorine, as had
also others, therefore we were ordered to experiment at once. Nahoum
was sent over to the Beit-el-Mal to collect all appliances, chemicals,
and anything else he chose to lay his hands upon. Our establishment was
growing, and Hamadan was delighted at having under his charge people
who were to do so much for Mahdieh. But the chlorine required for the
production of the chlorate of potash refused to appear. Our laboratory
was a dangerous place to visit, for we had jar upon jar containing
mixed acids, and explosions were the order of the day. Nahoum had a
lively time, deaf as he was. Once, and once only, Hamadan made pretence
of understanding our experiments; he took a good inhalation from a
vessel which had in it a mixture of various acids with permanganate of
potash. He was almost suffocated, but he was much impressed, and told
the Khaleefa what devoted |233| adherents he had when we would work in
such a poison-laden atmosphere.
There was good reason why I should do all in my power to keep Hamadan
interested and hopeful of grand results. Onoor Issa had sent me word by
a messenger from Berber that he was at that town with letters and money
for me, but that he had been detained by the Emir; he hoped, however,
to be able to get away very soon and arrange my escape. Then the
consignment of chlorate of potash put in its appearance—about twelve
hundredweight, I was told—and Sirri getting hold of a small sample of
it, we showed it to Hamadan to prove that we were just succeeding with
our experiments. He was satisfied, as was also Abdullahi, and we were
told to continue our work.
However, the tales which were coming in every few days were causing no
little anxiety to the Khaleefa. None of us believed that the troops
were coming across the desert in “iron devils,” and it was some
time before we understood that a railway was being built. Indeed we
could hardly believe it. Whatever the “iron devil” was, it behoved
the Khaleefa to look well to his arms and ammunition. Sheikh ed Din
was sent on a round of inspection of stores and arsenals,[11] and
discovered that a large quantity of the |234| powder had caked with
the absorption of moisture, that other large quantities were of very
poor quality, and that the powder-stores in general were not as he
thought they were. The Khaleefa threatened to cut a hand and foot off
both Abd es Semmieh and Hassan Hosny, the directors of the factory, if
they did not work the powder up again into a good explosive. Awwad,
as the head of the Beit-el-Mal, came and asked if it was not possible
to make some sort of machine for pulverizing the ingredients for the
powder; the work was then being done by hand. I tried to interest
Nahoum Abbajee in the work, as it was about time we got clear of
our alchemists’ establishment on some excuse or another, otherwise
I foresaw trouble if Sheikh ed Din should inquire too closely into
our work. But Abbajee thought that he had had quite enough of me in
connection with experiments and machinery, and decided to be out of
the affair altogether; he thought his life had been in enough jeopardy
already. Sirri elected to remain.
[11] A few errors have crept into the report submitted to the
Earl of Kimberley in April, 1895, after the escape of Slatin.
On page 4 it is stated that the church of the Austrian Mission
in Khartoum was utilized as the repairing shops of the arsenal.
The church was never put to such a purpose. The account I have
given of the purpose to which it was put is the correct one.
On page 7 it is stated “Neufeld started the first saltpetre
refinery in Khartoum.” This may or may not be correct, but
it is very misleading. The refining of saltpetre for the
Khaleefa was a big industry in Darfour and the environs of
Omdurman and Khartoum long before I had anything to do with
it. The account I have given as to how I came to be connected
with this industry may be relied upon as being correct, while
there are many living witnesses, irrespective of the stock
of my saltpetre still existing, to prove that I deliberately
prevented “the refining of saltpetre” so far as it lay in my
power to do so.
In the following paragraph to that quoted, it is stated that
the powder-factory was at Halfeyeh. It never was. It was first
in Omdurman, and, after the explosion, was gradually removed to
Tuti Island. The transfer was not complete when I left Khartoum
for the Saier in November, 1897.
On page 10, when speaking of the coins in circulation, it is
said, “This decrease in the intrinsic value of money is an
interesting indication of the decline of dervish power and
government.” The inference to be drawn from my account of its
depreciation is just the reverse, but is the correct inference
to be drawn.
I invented a powder machine on the principle of the old German “dolly”
toy. We spent a few weeks, assisted by Hamaida, the head of the
carpenters, in making a model, which worked beautifully; and when it
was shown to the Khaleefa, he was so delighted that he ordered my
chains to be removed. The mortars were put in hand at once, also the
beam which |235| was to lift and let fall the pulverizers, and then
it was discovered that the machine could not be made to my dimensions.
I knew this when I designed it, but I had hoped that some one would
have been sent south to try and find trees large enough to provide
the beams, and so delay would be assured. Osta Abdallah and Khaleel
Hassanein, jealous maybe of me, and fearing that their positions were
in danger of being taken by myself, went to the Khaleefa, and told
him that, in their opinion, I was only “fooling” with him. They also
suggested that Awwad-el-Mardi was a friend of the Government, and was
helping me on this account; but Yacoub, who was present, supported me.
In the course of the interview, the Khaleefa said he had heard that in
my country women and children made cartridges with machines, and as
I must know all about it, I was to make him such a machine while the
powder-mill was being constructed.
For ten years I had been so chained and weighted with iron that it
was only with effort I was able to raise my feet from the ground in
order to shuffle from place to place; the bars of iron connected with
the anklets had limited the stride or shuffle to about ten or twelve
inches. When freed from all this, I ran and jumped about the whole
day long like one possessed; but the sudden call upon muscles so long
unused resulted in a swelling of the legs from hips to ankles, and
this was accompanied with most excruciating pains. I had just got the
drawings ready for the cartridge-machine when I was compelled to lie
up. This gave Osta Abdallah and Hassanein another |236| chance to
approach the Khaleefa, and again they suggested that I was “fooling.”
Awwad was sent for, and in reply to the Khaleefa, said that he believed
I was doing my best, and would certainly succeed; that had he not
believed in me himself, he would never have recommended him to employ
me on such important works. Yacoub again took my part, and said that
whoever did not assist me, or whoever hindered me, would be considered
an enemy of Mahdieh. Although, as he admitted, he did not understand
the machines, yet in his opinion “there must be something in the head
of the man who invented them, and he was better employed in the arsenal
than idling his time in the Saier.” Awwad also said that if Osta
Abdallah and Hassanein had not and could not find the materials for the
construction of the machines, he believed that I could make another one
with such materials as they had. This decided the matter—both machines
were to be proceeded with; but the Khaleefa agreed to my being put
into chains to prevent my escaping, and on the thirteenth day of my
freedom the chains were replaced. Being unable to move from my house,
the joiners, with a lathe, their tools and material, were sent to
me, as the Khaleefa wished the machine to be completed as rapidly as
possible. Abdallah Sulieman, the chief of the cartridge-factory, was
then employing upwards of fifteen hundred men, and the Khaleefa wished
to release them for fighting purposes.
[Illustration: POWDER-MACHINES.]
My efforts to obtain either the original models or photographs of
them not having so far been successful, |237| I have had models of
the machines made here. Those interested in mechanics will discover
for themselves the mechanical defects and unnecessary complications
introduced into them. I was working under the supervision of fairly
good mechanical engineers, so that defects might not be made too
glaring. Some were detected and rectified, but the main defects were
not seen, being beyond the powers of calculation of Abdallah; and
Hamaida, who could and did see them, was enjoying the pranks which
were played. The various ideas I had picked up while associated with
Gordon’s old corps were now standing me in good stead. When the model
of the cartridge-machine was taken over to Abdullahi, instead of being
pleased with it he was furious: Berber had been taken! He said, “I want
cartridges, not models;” and gave orders that I should be taken from my
house, kept at work all day in the arsenal, and locked up at night in
the arsenal prison with the convicts employed there as labourers.
To gain more time, I insisted upon a full-sized wooden model of the
cartridge-machine being first made for the metal workers to work from.
Yacoub had given orders that all the material and labour of the arsenal
was to be put at my disposition. While the wooden model was being made,
I occupied myself in selecting the metal required, and in doing this
I laid hands upon everything Osta Abdallah required for the ordinary
works in hand. I appropriated the paddle axle of one of the steamers,
as I said I required this to be cut with eccentric |238| discs, and
did my best to smash the best lathe with it, to give me still more
time; but the lathe stood the strain, and four or five discs were
actually cut in the axle.
It would have taken them another year to cut the remainder at the
rate the work was progressing, and probably four years to make the
machine; then when it was finished there would have been an accident,
and some people would have been killed or maimed, for that paddle axle
would have come tearing through the machine with the first revolution.
I was taking a fiendish delight in destroying every good piece of
metal I could lay my hands on under pretence of its being required
for the machine; the copper and brass which I appropriated interfered
considerably with the production of the cartridges, and the skilled
workmen whom I kept employed delayed for months the finishing touches
to the new powder-factory on Tuti Island. But there could be no going
back now. Abdallah was my sworn enemy; but I knew that the more I
destroyed under his own eyes, the less risk there was of his going to
the Khaleefa again to induce him to believe that the whole of my work
was, as he called it, “shoogal khabbass”—all lies, for Abdallah himself
would get into trouble for not having discovered it before all the
damage had been done.
While still engaged on collecting material for the machine (for no
sooner was one lot cut up when it was discovered that some mistake had
been made in either length or thickness, so that another raid had to
be made on the stores), the steamer _Safia_ |239| was brought up and
beached opposite Mokran fort for repairs. Instead of being allowed
to settle on a cradle running the whole length of her keel, she was
supported only amidships, and her bow and stern tore away. All the
boats were at this time in the charge of the Beit-el-Mal, and when
Osta Abdallah condemned the _Safia_, and said it was impossible to
repair her, Awwad-el-Mardi, fearing the Khaleefa’s displeasure at such
a time, asked me if it was not possible to repair her. Taking with us
a number of men discontented with Osta Abdallah, we examined the boat,
and declared that she could be repaired. Awwad was pleased, and I was
appointed superintendent of this work too. My superintendence consisted
in hiding below and smoking surreptitiously.
Sometime in August, 1897, Onoor returned to Omdurman, and sent messages
to me through Umm es Shole. The import of them will be seen from the
following letter, which I was able to write and smuggle over to him;
the letter was to be delivered to the first officer he came across:―
“In accordance with my arrangement with the bearer Onoor, I succeeded
in getting liberated from the Saier, and moved over to Khartoum,
where I have spent two years in the arsenal under surveillance.
Onoor has been unable to meet me personally to consult over plans
for escape, which offers little difficulty provided I had funds. In
May, 1896, Onoor sent me, through his agent, your letter, and gave
me to understand that the money mentioned in this letter was in his
possession, and that he was awaiting an opportunity to bring it to
Khartoum. Now (July-August, 1897) he has come to Omdurman only to find
me in a difficult position, owing to the progress of the war. He tells
me he was ordered to Suakin, where he was put in prison, and the money
he had for me taken from him, |240| as he had no reply from me to the
letter sent, or any evidence to show that the letter had been sent.
He has borrowed some money here, for which I have gone bail for fifty
pounds, and Onoor promises to be back in three months’ time with news
from you and the money required for my support and escape. The course
of the war will soon deliver us alive or dead from the hands of this
savage rabble.
“The greater part of the arsenal has been moved over to the
Beit-el-Mal at Omdurman owing to the war, and the remaining material
will follow very shortly, and I will go over with it, when I may
have an opportunity of meeting Onoor if nothing occurs to disturb
the extremely good relations existing between myself and my present
masters. Please give Onoor (here follows a list of medicines);
practising medicine facilitates my communication with the outer world.
I hope Onoor will find with you a letter from my family; I am in good
health, as is also my daughter Bakhita, and her mother Umm es Shole.
We send you greetings.”
News was coming each day of the most alarming description for the
Khaleefa; tales of big gunboats coming to reconnoitre Khartoum, and the
“iron devil” (the railway) creeping forward, decided him on collecting
everything under his eyes. All stores were hurried over to Omdurman;
a hundred and fifty to two hundred men were sent over to destroy
the mission house, mosque, and other buildings in Khartoum, as the
Khaleefa was determined to leave no place of shelter for any troops
who succeeded in landing there. I was looked upon with the greatest
suspicion, as there was no concealing, try as I might, my anxiety to
glean every bit of news possible about the expedition, and I was also
in a fever of excitement expecting the return of Onoor. Each day was
bristling with opportunities for escape, provided there was a man with
a camel ready for me on the opposite |241| shore. With the dozens
of boats and hundreds of men employed in transferring the arsenal to
the other side of the river, a successful escape was assured; but
Onoor never came. Towards the end of November, 1897, I was taken over
with the last of the arsenal material to Omdurman, and put into the
Saier prison, only until, as I was told, a house could be got ready
for me in the Beit-el-Mal, where we were to complete the powder-and
cartridge-machines.
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