PREPARING TO RECEIVE THE GUNBOATS
When I returned to the Saier in November, 1897, it was as a visitor—a
distinguished one at that. I was told that I was only to remain there
until my quarters in the Beit-el-Mal were ready for occupation,
when I was to leave the prison and continue the construction of the
powder-and cartridge-machines, to the completion of which the Khaleefa
and Yacoub were looking forward with no little interest and anxiety.
But once inside the gates of the Saier, Osta Abdallah and Khaleel
Hassanein determined to keep me there, and succeeded in doing so. When
Awwad-el-Mardi again interested himself on my behalf, these worthies
succeeded in persuading Yacoub that Awwad’s interest in me was sure
evidence of his sympathies with the Government, and their schemes ended
by Awwad also being sent into the prison with threats of what would
happen to him if he attempted to hold any intercourse with me.
[Illustration: A GROUP—FROM PHOTOGRAPH TAKEN AT THE FEAST OF BEIRAM,
1899.
1. Mohammed Sirri, formerly telegraph clerk at Berber. He, with Hassan
Bey Hassanein, cut the Khaleefa’s communications.
2. Morgan Torjin. Imprisoned for two years for telling the Khaleefa
that he insisted on being allowed to smoke tobacco and drink Marissa.
3. Khaleel Agha Orphali.
4. Said Bey Gumaa.
5. Osman Bey Daali, commandant of Irregular troops in Sennaar.
6. Hassan Bey Hassanein.
7. Sheikh Ali Toulba, formerly of the Khartoum Medrassa (college).
8. Ahmed Riad, formerly head clerk of Slatin at Dara. He it was who
wrote the letters calling upon Said Gumaa to submit to the Mahdi, and
who accompanied Slatin to Zoghal when Dara was surrendered.
9. Mohammad Farag, former officer of Dara troops.
10. Rhubrian Baalbal, clerk to Lupton.
11. Sheikh Taher Farrag, Kassala Medrassa (college).
12. Ahmed Yusef Kandeel, clerk to Wad Nejoumi.
13. Hassan Bey Abdel Minain, president of the Court of Appeal at
Khartoum.]
It was possibly a week after entering the prison that Umm es Shole
came in to say that she had seen and spoken to Onoor Issa, who had not
left |243| Omdurman—the same Onoor whose return I had looked for so
anxiously during the time of the transfer of the arsenal from Khartoum,
when each day bristled with opportunities for successful flight!
Fearing that he might play me false, and hand the notes I had given
him to the Khaleefa as an earnest of his loyalty to him, I sent off
Umm es Shole, and told her to say that I had a few notes to add to the
letters which I had given him. Onoor at once suspected my reasons for
sending for them, and replied that he was not pleased with my want of
confidence in him, that he had a permit to proceed to Suakin for trade,
but, having fallen under suspicion, he had so far been prevented from
leaving, though he hoped to be able to leave any day. Upon this I again
trusted him, and added the following to my notes, sending them out to
him as soon as it was written:―
“News from here (the Saier); Slatin knows Omdurman prison. From the
Beit-el-Mal to Morrada along the river are six semicircular forts with
flanks; each fort has three guns, but the flanks are loopholed for
musketry only. The parapets are of Nile mud, and appear to be three
metres thick. Most of the forts are situated close under the high
wall. There is a similar fort at the north end of Tuti Island, two
more at Halfeyeh, and the same number at Hugra, north of Omdurman.
Two batteries near Mukran sweep the White Nile and the arm which
skirts Tuti Island, and I have just heard that some one has offered
to lay torpedoes in the Nile to blow up the steamers. Slatin knows
more about the army than I do; Wad Bessir has come in from Ghizera
with about two thousand men. Osman Digna, with a force I have not
learned the strength of, is at Halfeyeh. Onoor will tell you all
about these troops. Ahmed Fedeel is at Sabalooka (Shabluka), and his
strength is better known to you than me. The whole population left
here is in the greatest dread of this savage rabble and their rulers,
and pray God to deliver them out of their |244| hands, and that you
may save them from the fate of the Jaalin. I pray you to keep this
letter an absolute secret. There are traitors among your spies” (this
remark was confirmed a few weeks later); “if the least inkling of my
communications with you reach the Khaleefa’s ears, it will be all over
with me. Answer me in German, as no one else here understands the
language. It is a mistake to trust any Arab—civilized or uncivilized.
Onoor is the only one who has brought me any news. He is the best
man to go between us. In expectation of an early reply from you, I
subscribe myself yours devotedly, and pray God he may enable me to
join you soon. I have been moved from Khartoum to the Omdurman prison
only until my house is ready in the Beit-el-Mal.
The Khaleefa has received news that steamers are coming to reconnoitre
Khartoum.”
It was not until the end of December that Onoor succeeded in obtaining
permission to leave Omdurman; and then hurrying to Suakin, he handed
in my notes to the commandant there, returning six months later with
his thanks for the information given and money to keep me going. It is
passing strange that my trouble in collecting information about the
forts, writing to the advancing army, and giving what details I could,
should have given those on the way to Omdurman the impression that it
was “Neufeld’s forts” which were being knocked to pieces. Even my good
friend—that King of War Correspondents—Mr. Bennet Burleigh, was good
enough to tell me that he believed I had designed and constructed them.
They were all the work, from beginning to end, of Youssef Mansour.
At the time I am speaking of, the prison was filled with suspected
sympathizers with the Government; the presence of Ibrahim Pasha Fauzi
and |245| Awwad-el-Mardi has already been alluded to. Hogal, who
should have accompanied me on the expedition to Kordofan, was also
a prisoner; but it was three months before I was able to steal an
interview with him—about the time of the anniversary of my capture—and
then I learned, at almost the hour of my release, the real history of
my capture. Our circle of “Government people” was added to daily; one
of the most interesting additions being a party of sixteen or seventeen
spies, amongst whom was Worrak from Dongola, Abdalla Mahassi from
Derawi, Ajjail from Kassala, and others from Suakin. They had been
betrayed by other spies; I have forgotten the names of the traitors,
but it is of little moment now, as doubtless the betrayed settled up
their accounts on the taking of Omdurman. The betrayer or betrayers
were Dongolawi—perhaps the only coterie of thieves on earth who have no
honour among themselves.
Whatever may have been the excitement and anxiety in other parts of
the world concerning the Sirdar’s advance, we had our share of both in
Omdurman. Strange tales had reached us of offers of assistance sent to
the Khaleefa to resist the advance of the troops. Shortly before I left
Khartoum, a field-gun had arrived from the south as a present for the
Khaleefa; it was accompanied by a limited supply of ammunition—brass
cartridges carrying a shell in the same way as the rifle carries its
bullet. One of the cartridges was sent to the Khartoum arsenal, to see
if others could be made like it. Various tales were told concerning its
origin; but as the gun must have been taken at the |246| capture of
Omdurman, its real history has no doubt been traced.
It was only when I met in prison Ibrahim Wad Hamza of Berber, and
Hamed Wad-el-Malek, that I learned from them what had transpired
when the King of Abyssinia sent an envoy to the Khaleefa asking his
assistance against the Italians. The envoy had been brought to the
Khartoum arsenal to inspect it, but I was not allowed to speak to him.
An arrangement had been come to by which the Abyssinians were to open
up trade routes from Gallabat, and send in so much coffee and other
articles of food monthly, in return for the promised assistance of the
Khaleefa in attacking the Italians; but the contributions or tribute
was paid for a few months only, as another envoy came with offers of
assistance against the advancing armies. He was the bearer of a flag
which he asked the Khaleefa to fly, as the troops might not fire at
it; the conferences, like all conferences between the Khaleefa and
strangers, were held privately, but at the end of the last conference,
the Khaleefa gave his reply in the presence of the Emirs and others.
Handing back the flag, he said, “My mission is a holy and religious
one; I trust to God for help and success; I do not want the help of
Christians. If ever I required the help of man, the Mohammedan boy
Abbas is nearer and better to me,” and with this he waved the envoy
and his companions off. The only construction we could place on
the concluding sentence, was that the Khaleefa wished every one to
understand that, sooner than accept the help of a Christian power, he
would |247| surrender to the Khedive, and this meant never, for he was
looking forward to the day when he would erect his scaffolds in the
Cairo citadel, and haul up the Khedive and “Burrin” (Lord Cromer) as
his first victims. To the Soudanese, Lord Cromer, or “Burrin,” as they
mispronounced Baring, held the same relation to the Khedive as Yacoub
did to the Khaleefa.
From the day Mahmoud started until the arrival of the victorious army
in Omdurman, I was pestered with questions day and night; the Mahdists
wished to know whether the advancing troops belonged to the sheikh who
sent the troops for Gordon in 1884; those against Mahdieh wished to
know if they belonged to the other sheikh. From the Arabic papers which
found their way to Omdurman, the Soudanese had learned that there were
two tribes in England, each led by powerful sheikhs; one, the sheikh of
1884, and the other the sheikh who had said that when he started there
would be no coming back until he had “broken up” (smashed) Mahdieh. To
the Mahdists, it was the troops who “ran away” who were coming again;
to the “Government” people it was immaterial which sheikh was in power;
British troops were advancing, and that was enough. At night our circle
would sift and discuss all the tales we had heard during the day, and
although we were filled with hope, anxiety and fear got the better of
us on most occasions.
When Mahmoud was sent off, his instructions were to wait at Metemmeh,
and do all in his power to harass the troops as they crossed the river;
if strong enough |248| to attack them, he was to do so, but if they
were stronger, he was to retire gradually to Kerreri, where an old
prophecy had foretold that the great battle was to take place. Mahmoud
disobeyed these instructions, and crossed to the east bank, upon which
the Khaleefa sent him orders not to remain in a zareeba or trenches,
but to attack the infidels in the open. Hardly had the excitement
caused by Mahmoud’s defiance of the Khaleefa’s orders died down, when
the news came that he had attacked and annihilated the English army.
But other news than this followed on its heels; we learned the truth
from a band of about thirty-eight blacks wearing the Egyptian uniform.
They were dervishes taken at Dongola and Abou Hamad, and drafted into
the army. At the Atbara they deserted to the dervishes, but suspected
of being spies, they were sent to the Saier. The whole truth came out
when Osman Digna came back to Omdurman to report to the Khaleefa.
“What news have you brought me, and how fare the faithful?” inquired
Abdullahi. “Master,” replied Osman, “I led them to Paradise.” Now,
Osman had been doing this at every battle for years, and the Khaleefa’s
patience was exhausted; he wanted victories, and not pilgrimages of his
best troops to the next world. “Then why did you not go with them?”
retorted Abdullahi. “God,” replied Osman, “had not ordained it so;
He must have more work for me to do; when that work is finished, He
will call me.” It was well known to the Khaleefa, and every one else
in the Soudan, that Osman had an excellent eye for a |249| field of
battle, and knew an hour before any one else did, when to make a bolt
for it on a losing day. Osman’s appearance was quite sufficient to let
people understand that all the tales of victory on the side of the
dervishes were false, and it was useless for the Khaleefa to try any
longer to conceal the truth, but some explanation had to be given for
the terrible rout of his army. It was all the doing of an outraged
Deity. Mahmoud had disobeyed the orders transmitted through Abdullahi
by the Prophet, and this was the result! As other stragglers came
in, extraordinary tales were told of enormous steamers with enormous
guns which fired “devils” and “lightning”; this description probably
referred to the rockets, which, I gathered, had ricochetted all over
Mahmoud’s camp, playing terrible havoc.
On the fall of Dongola, a Mograbin (from Tunis, or Algiers), named
Nowraani, had offered his services to Yacoub, as a maker of torpedoes,
and with these he said he could blow up every boat on the Nile. His
offer at the time was refused, as the Khaleefa said that it was his
intention to capture all these boats for himself; he did not wish
them to be destroyed. But the tales which came in about them after
the Atbara fight, showed that something must be done to secure them.
Abdallah and Hassanein undertook to make a “boom” of chains across the
Sabalooka (Shabluka) pass, and for this purpose almost every scrap
of chain in Omdurman was collected. Their plan, as described to me,
was as follows: the chains were to be laid across the stream, their
ends made fast to posts on the opposite |250| banks of the Nile. To
prevent them from sinking to the bed of the stream, a series of large
wooden buoys had been made, and these were to be fixed at intervals
along the boom. It had been calculated that the buoys would, with the
weight of the chains, be sunk just below the surface of the water, and
also keep the chains in a series of loops; these loops were intended
to entangle the paddles and propellers of the gunboats, and, while so
entangled, Mansour’s picked men were to shoot every one on board, and
then, releasing the boats, bring them on to Omdurman. That was the
arrangement.
Employed in the arsenal at the time was a man named Mohammad Burrai—a
Government sympathizer, and a bitter enemy of Mansour and the others;
he was entrusted with the attaching of the buoys at the fixed points
in the boom. A few days after the boom was sent down the river, and,
while I was “practising” the healing art at the gates of the prison,
I received an interesting patient; it was Burrai, his head so wrapped
up in cloths as to make him unrecognizable. He told me first of the
arrangements made for the boom, and how he had succeeded in destroying
it. The chains had been laid over the sterns of boats anchored in the
Nile from bank to bank, and Burrai had fixed the buoys to them, but
instead of making the buoys _fast_ at these points, he merely slipped
the rings round the boom so that the buoys could run from one end to
the other. The word was given to slip the boom off the boats. The
buoys with the force of the current were carried to the centre |251|
of the boom, and, with the resistance offered by them to the stream,
the cables snapped and were lost. Burrai’s object in coming to me will
be divined; having been employed on the construction of the boom, he
might, when the English arrived, be shot as a Mahdist, and he wished to
tell me, as a “Government man,” what he had done, so that I could speak
up for him. This I promised to do.
There were no more chains left with which to make another boom, but
those terrible boats must be stopped from coming to Omdurman, and
Nowraani was sent for to explain his project again. He proposed to
take two large tubular boilers, then lying at Khartoum, cut them in
two, fill them with powder, seal up the open ends, and fire them
by electricity as the boats passed over them. Sirri, the former
telegraph-clerk at Berber, was asked to design the electrical
apparatus, but he pleaded ignorance of such things. I was next sent
to, to give my opinion as to the feasibility of Nowraani’s plan. It
was explained to me that each half of the boilers would contain thirty
cantars (a ton and a half) of gunpowder; then it was mines, and not
torpedoes, the man wished to make; however, the name “torpedo” was
always used. I replied that I had heard, as Nowraani said, of torpedoes
being used in the sea for the destruction of great ships, but had never
heard of them being used in rivers, and I doubted his ability to make
them. The Khaleefa was not satisfied with my answer, and sent word
that he believed I could assist in the making of them, but would not.
To this, again, I said I should be only too |252| pleased to help
Nowraani in his work, but what he proposed to do was very dangerous and
risky. I said I felt sure that the only result would be an explosion
while the torpedoes were being made, and that, while I did not mind
being killed myself, I would not like to meet Allah responsible for the
lives of others. Perhaps I made a mistake in putting forward religious
scruples, for the Khaleefa never believed in my conversion; he took it
for granted that I refused to help, and told the Saier to load me with
an extra chain and bar.
Nowraani insisted that his plans were feasible, and a small
experimental “torpedo” was ordered to be made; Mansour, Hassanein,
and Abdallah superintended the work, which was carried out in almost
absolute secrecy. When finished, the mine was taken over to the Blue
Nile, made fast under a boat, and exploded. The result was most
satisfactory—the boat being blown to matchwood, and a large column
of mud and water thrown into the air, which was more impressive,
evidently, than the destruction of the boat.
[Illustration: NEUFELD DOUBLY FETTERED.]
The “torpedoes” were ordered immediately, and men were kept working
night and day for their completion; the boilers were cut in two, plates
fitted to the open ends, wires and “strings,” as it was described to
me, fitted to mechanism in the interior, and in maybe a fortnight’s
time I learned that four big and one small torpedo were fastened to
gyassas ready to be lowered into the stream, while others were being
made. Again I received a visit from Burrai; he had |253| to assist
in the laying of the mines, and wanted to know from me how they might
be rendered useless. From his description of the wires and lines
running in pairs, I came to the conclusion that electricity was to be
the medium for their explosion, especially as Burrai’s instructions
were to take charge of these lines, pay them out as the torpedoes sank,
and make the free ends of the line fast to posts, which had been fixed
on the land just south of Khor Shamba. I told him that if either wire
or string of the pairs of lines was broken, the torpedoes could not be
fired, and suggested his giving a hard tug to one of the lines as soon
as the “barrel” as he called the mines, was lowered to the bed of the
stream.
What happened we know; how it happened we never shall. Burrai was
seen on the _Ismailia_, which towed down the stone-laden gyassas with
the torpedoes; the gyassas were to have a hole knocked in them, and
the boat and torpedoes allowed to sink gradually. One torpedo had
been lowered, and an explosion immediately followed. The boats with
Nowraani and between thirty and forty men were blown to atoms; the
_Ismailia_ was blown in two—the stern floating a few yards down stream
and sinking. Burrai was picked out of the water with the whole of the
flesh of the calf of his left leg blown clear away, and also the flesh
from his ribs on the left side. He lingered for seven days, asking
repeatedly for me; but all that I was allowed to do was to send him
carbolic acid for his wounds—I was not allowed to go and see him. To
all inquiries as to how the accident |254| happened he could, or
would, only say that all he did was to pull in the slack of the lines,
to prevent their becoming entangled.
Sorry as I am for poor Burrai’s death, I cannot consider that I am in
any way to blame for it; I can only think that some system of fuse, or
detonator, had been fixed to the “torpedoes,” and that the very action
which I had suggested to render them useless had exploded them. About
the time that the mines exploded, Onoor returned, or, at least, I
received the news of his return, by receiving the letter and money he
had brought from Suakin. Every one with leanings towards the Government
was now coming to me in prison under one pretext or another, to give
me information as to all that was going on; it was to their interest
to do so, as to the end I was looked upon as an official. Owing to
this, I was able to send out to Onoor slips of paper giving as nearly
correct details as possible of the number of various arms possessed
by the dervishes, the stock of ammunition, and the Khaleefa’s plans
as far as they were known. In one of my notes I informed the army
of the explosion of the “torpedoes,” and the existence of two other
mines ready to be sent off, with details concerning the forts. I asked
Onoor to get away with these as quickly as possible, and he promised
to do so. I do not know who he handed these notes to, or whether he
handed them over himself; he replies to my inquiries by writing me
from Omdurman saying that he was arrested on the Nile by Osman Digna,
but whether coming or going from the army it is impossible to say.
My own opinion is that Onoor, |255| not knowing how the day would
go, remained in Omdurman the whole time. If the English won, his life
was safe as a well-known spy; if the dervishes won, he was among his
own people, and could take credit for having contributed towards the
victory. He was not the only one in the Soudan who debated chances and
probabilities as did Hassib Gabou, and Hogal when Gabou talked him over
on April 1, 1887.
No sooner had my “latest intelligence” been sent off by Onoor, than an
arsenal carpenter, Mohammad Ragheb, came to me on the subject of the
remaining torpedoes. He had been ordered to assist in the laying of
them, and was particularly anxious to learn from me how he might render
them useless, and no less anxious that I should make a mental note
of the fact so that I could say a “good word” for him if ever he was
accused of trying to impede the advance of the “Government.” Associated
with him was a no particular friend of mine—Ali Baati, and others;
but there was no mistaking their earnest desire and real anxiety to
circumvent all the schemes of Mansour, Hassanein, and Abdallah in
favour of the Government troops.
Ragheb could give me no more information as to the firing medium of the
mines than could Burrai; all he could tell me was that the “barrels”
had the wires wrapped two or three times round them to prevent their
being pulled or dragged in removal. I suggested first that he should
chip away any cement which he thought filled any hole or crevice;
this would allow of the water penetrating. Next I suggested that he
should, as the boats carrying the mines went down |256| the river,
try and “snip” any or all of the wires running round the “barrel,” but
cutting the wires in different places, so that the trick would not
be discovered. Ragheb must have succeeded, for neither of the mines
exploded, although Mansour had appointed people to fire them as the
gunboats passed.
It is impossible for me, away from the spot where association would
bring to memory the incidents of those stirring times, to remember the
names of all who came to me asking what they might do to evidence,
before the arrival of the troops, their loyalty to the Government,
and it must not be forgotten that they were running risks in fighting
Mahdieh. It is but right that I should record the one or two striking
examples which occur to me, especially in the face of my oft-expressed
opinion that there are one or two released captives, who should not
even be allowed the formality of a drum-head court-martial.
|257|