NEARING THE END
Events were now following each other in rapid succession. In the
universal excitement prevailing, sleep was almost unknown, drums were
beaten and ombeyehs blown continuously day and night, days and dates
were lost count of; even Friday, that one day in the week in Mahdieh,
was lost sight of by most, and the prayers were left unsaid.
Councils of war were the order of the day—and night; and what tales we
heard! The Emir Abd-el-Baagi had been entrusted by the Khaleefa and
Yacoub with keeping in touch with the advancing armies, and sending
to Omdurman information of every movement. Never was a general better
served with “intelligence” than was Abdullahi by Abd-el-Baagi; his
messengers were arriving every few hours in the early days, and hourly
towards the end. It was with no little astonishment that we heard
Sabalooka was to be abandoned. The boom of chains which was to entangle
the paddles of the gunboats had snapped, therefore it was the will of
Allah that the boats were to come on. Then the mines exploded. Again it
was Allah, who in this showed that |258| he would not have His designs
interfered with. The real truth of the matter was, that the troops at
Sabalooka, hearing that the gunboats had guns which could send one of
the “devils” (shells) half a day’s journey, and over hills too, took
upon themselves to retire out of range.
There was an old prophecy to the effect that the great fight would
take place on the plains of Kerreri. Here the infidels were to be
exterminated, and all the waverers on the side of the faithful were
to be killed, the remnant collecting afterwards and then starting
off, a purified army, on the conquest of the whole world. Again, it
was decided that the faithful were to collect in Omdurman, and allow
the infidels to come on. While attacks were being made against them
on the western flank and rear, a great sortie was to be made from
the town, when the infidels, pressed back to Kerreri plains, would
be caught between three fires, and exterminated. The gunboats, with
their “devils,” would be afraid to shoot, as they would kill their own
people. But no sooner had this been decided upon when objections were
raised. Those gunboats could anchor half a day’s journey off, knock
Omdurman to pieces, and bury the faithful under the ruins.
Again the prophecy was alluded to, and a move out to meet the armies
finally decided upon. Every man was to be taken out of Omdurman, so
that, if the infidels should succeed in reaching the town, they would
find only women and children, and instead of their being the besiegers,
they would become the besieged. |259|
Omdurman was overrun by Abdullahi’s spies, who, professing to be
friendly towards the “Government,” tried to wheedle out of known
friends of the Government expressions of opinion as to the chances of
success to the Mahdists’ arms, and at the same time to ascertain the
general feeling of the populace. Their favourite hunting-ground was of
course the Saier, where the more influential people were incarcerated.
From the persistence with which these spies pressed their inquiries as
to the chances of success which might attend large bodies deserting
to the Ingleezee under cover of darkness—their anxiety to learn how
they might approach the camp without being fired upon before they had
been given an opportunity of evidencing their peaceable intentions—we
came to the conclusion that Abdullahi had been advised to make a
night attack. Few knew better than we did what might be the result of
such a tactic. At close quarters the dervish horde was more than a
match for the best-drilled army in Europe. Swift and silent in their
movements, covering the ground at four or five times the speed of
trained troops, every man, when the moment of attack came, accustomed
to fight independently of orders, lithe and supple, nimble as cats and
as bloodthirsty as starving man-eating tigers, utterly regardless of
their own lives, and capable of continuing stabbing and jabbing with
spear and sword while carrying half a dozen wounds, any one of which
would have put a European _hors de combat_—such were the 75,000 to
80,000 warriors which the Khaleefa had ready to attack the Sirdar’s
little army. Artillery, |260| rifles, and bayonets would have been but
of little avail against a horde like this rushing a camp by night.
We had heard from the prisoner deserters how, at the Atbara, the
armies had advanced by night and delivered their attack at dawn, first
shelling the zareeba with their “devils,” which “came from such a great
distance.” With Fauzi, Hamza the Jaalin, and others, I came to the
conclusion that the same tactics would be employed for the attack at
Kerreri; therefore, to the spies we swore that the English never did
things twice in the same way; that they would on this occasion march
during the day and attack at night, since the Sirdar would be afraid
to let his soldiers see the Khaleefa’s great army, as they would all
run away if they did. Our advice was that the faithful should remain in
their camp, and await the attack. It would have been very awkward for
me had the Sirdar planned a night attack, for he would have found the
dervishes on the _qui vive_ awaiting him, and then I might have been
blamed for the advice I had given. However, I believed that a night
attack would be the very last thing he would resort to, and any tale
from our side was good enough, provided doubts were raised in the minds
of the Khaleefa and his advisers as to the chances of success which
would attend his attacking by night.
The population at this period may be said to have divided itself into
three camps; the one praying—and sincerely, for the victory to Mahdieh;
the second praying openly to the same end, but breathing prayers to
Heaven for just the reverse; the third camp—and |261| this the bigger
of the three, consisting of those waiting to see which side would
probably win in order to throw in its lot with it. Dozens of people,
who really were friends of the Government, came to me in prison asking
advice as to what they might do before the troops actually arrived to
evidence their loyalty, and it must not be forgotten that they were
risking death at the hour of deliverance. To most I was still the
“brother of Stephenson el Ingleezee,” and there were “brothers” of mine
coming up with the Government troops.
I was able, through these people, to collect the information I was
sending off daily by spies. Abdallah-el-Mahassi, who had received some
message from Major Fitton, asking about me, and also asking for all
information procurable concerning the arms and ammunition possessed by
the dervishes, sent to me the spy Worrak, who had been released from
prison, for any information I could give. Worrak, doubtless looking
forward to a reward, decided upon delivering my messages himself. He
was to be accompanied by two others; so, besides giving him notes
with the numbers of rifles, etc., issued to the troops, and a last
warning about the mines near Halfeyeh, I gave the information verbally
to the three, so that, in the event of it being found necessary to
destroy the papers, the verbal messages would get through. Worrak and
his companions left, but were intercepted by Abd-el-Baagi’s scouts.
Inflating their water-skins, they took to the river under a shower of
bullets. Worrak must have been killed or drowned, |262| as he was not
seen again; but the two others reached the British lines, delivered the
messages, and said that they would be confirmed by Worrak, who they
then thought must have been carried by the current to the east bank of
the Nile. These were the last messengers I actually sent off.
One of the Saier gaolers had worked himself into a state of frenzied
excitement in describing, for the edification of the prisoners—and mine
in particular, the coming destruction of the infidels. He gloated over
the time when the principal officers—their eyes gouged out to prevent
their looking upon the benign face of his master, would be brought into
the Saier, and there baited for the amusement of the populace. How
little the Sirdar thought, on that September evening, that one of the
gaolers grovelling at his feet had, but a few days previously, looked
forward to the time when he, blinded and shackled, would be lashed
round the place, and, with the rest of my “brothers,” spend the nights
in the “Umm Hagar.” This gaoler, in his mad enthusiasm, rushed at me,
and nearly succeeded in gouging out my left eye. There was a struggle,
and getting up almost breathless, and certainly driven to desperation,
I turned stupidly round, and prophesied, for his edification this
time, that the destruction he had predicted for my “brothers” was the
destruction which was to fall upon Mahdieh.
[Illustration: SHEREEF, THE “FALSE FOURTH KHALEEFA.”]
It was fortunate for me that, for a few days previous, Idris es Saier
had been sending for me, under one pretext and another, and asking what
action he should |263| take in case the English won the battle.
I promised that if he treated me well, I would say “good words” for
him; but perhaps Fauzi’s tale made the greatest impression upon him.
Fauzi related that when the English took Egypt there was one gaoler
at Alexandria and another at Cairo. The gaoler at Cairo treated
his prisoners well, and so the English promoted him; the gaoler at
Alexandria killed his prisoners, and ran away to another country across
the seas, but the English brought him back, and hanged him in his old
prison. Knowing that the troops were close, Idris took me under his
especial care, for he knew I had sent messages to my “brothers” telling
them I was alive, and he feared that if they came and found me dead,
they would hang him on the same scaffold with my corpse. Although he
warned the gaolers and spies to say that I was mad, and did not know
what I had been saying, my little speech by some means got to Yacoub’s
ears. I was carefully watched, and no one from outside was allowed to
speak to me. I should have been taken out of prison to see the great
fight, but I believe that I was the only Christian not called out to
the field of battle. I had asked Idris not to remove my chains if I was
sent for. I had no wish to be found alive or dead on the field as a
practically free man, and, dressed as a dervish, any attempt on my part
to escape to the British lines during the fight could only end in my
being shot down.
The Khaleefa had been sitting for eight days in the mosque in communion
with the Prophet and the Mahdi, and it was either on the Tuesday night
or |264| Wednesday morning immediately preceding the battle that
the decision to move out of town was arrived at. On the Wednesday
afternoon a grand parade of all the troops was held on the new parade
ground, and, while it was being held, alarming news was brought
by Abd-el-Baagi’s messengers. Instead of returning to the town as
intended, the Khaleefa set off with the whole army in a north-westerly
direction. It was this hurried movement which accounted for the
greater part of the arms and ammunition he required being left in the
Beit-el-Amana, for Abdullahi had intended distributing the remainder of
the rifles only at the last moment, when his troops would have to use
them against the infidels in self-defence; he could trust none but his
Baggara and Taaishi. Sheikh ed Din, with Yunis, Osman Digna, Khaleefa
Shereef, and Ali Wad Helu, moved off first in command of the attacking
army of 35,000 rifles and horsemen. Yacoub followed in command of a
similar number of spear and swordsmen; in all, the army assembled
must have numbered between 75,000 and 80,000 men. As every male had
been taken from Omdurman, the Khaleefa issued a hundred rifles to the
gaolers with which to shoot down the prisoners in case of trouble.
That night the rain came down in torrents, and the following day the
army arose uncomfortable, and maybe a little dispirited, but Abdullahi
restored their good spirits by the relation of a vision. During the
night the Prophet and the Mahdi had come to him, and let him see
beforehand the result of the battle; the souls of the faithful killed
were all rising |265| to Paradise, while the legions of hell were seen
tearing into shreds the spirits of the infidels. While this tale was
going its rounds, the gunboats were creeping up, and a further move to
the north was ordered, for it had been reported that the English were
landing the big guns on Tuti Island, to shell the camp.
We, too, in prison heard that the gunboats were approaching, and then
we heard the distant boom, boom of the guns gradually nearing and
growing louder. Before we had time to speculate as to whether the great
fight had commenced or not, a boy whom I had stationed on the roof of a
gaoler’s house, came running down to say that the “devils” were passing
Halfeyeh. At the same moment we were smothered in dust and stones;
a shell had struck the top of the prison wall, ricochetted to the
opposite wall, and fallen without exploding in the prison of the women.
All we prisoners hurried off and squatted at the base of the north
wall, believing this to be the safest place. The air was now filled
with what to us chained wretches appeared to be the yells and screeches
of legions of the damned let loose. We shuddered and looked helplessly
from one to the other. Then I noticed that the shells were all flying
high over us. Getting to my feet, I rushed—as far as my shackles
allowed—stumbling to the middle of the open space, tried to dance and
jump, called on all to come and join me. I shouted that my “brothers”
had got my messages; that only one place in Omdurman would be left—the
Saier; my brothers would spare all their lives for me. Yes, I had gone
mad; reason had left |266| me, and I was raving, laughing, crying,
singing, kissing my hands in welcome to those terrible messengers of
death screeching and yelling overhead; throwing open my arms, and
leaping up to embrace the shell which a second later was to gather in
death seventy-two then praying in the mosque.[12]
[12] The flight of the shells overhead had a most extraordinary
effect; they appeared to compress the atmosphere and press it
down to the earth; we could actually feel the pressure on our
bodies, and with some it brought on nausea.
I was only saved from death at the hands of the infuriated Baggara
prisoners by Idris es Saier locking them all up in the Umm Hagar, and
leaving myself, Fauzi, the Jaalin, and other Government sympathizers in
the open. Then the tales of the fight came to us; two of the gunboats
had been sunk, and the remainder had run away again! Fauzi and I sat
there distracted, heartbroken. The attack on Khartoum, in 1885, had
been enacted over again. I sat in a daze; the reaction from the madness
of joy to that of despair was more than the strongest man could stand,
after nearly twelve years’ captivity, but fortunately I broke down and
sobbed like a child.
During the night we could hear the pat, pat, pat of at first a few
dozen feet, until eventually we could tell that thousands were running
into the town. It is no use relating the tales then told us, I will
relate what actually occurred. After the bombardment of the forts,
the Khaleefa sent messengers to bring in all news from Omdurman. When
told that all the forts had been destroyed, he ordered a salute to be
fired in token of his having gained a victory, and called out, “Ed
deen mansour”—the Faith is Triumphant! But |267| other messengers were
hurrying in, and as they came with grave faces and asked to see Yacoub
before delivering their news to the Khaleefa, it was soon noised abroad
that the volley from the rifles was only to try and hide something
serious which had occurred. First, it was learned that, instead of
the gunboats having been destroyed, it was the forts which had been
battered to pieces. Then the more superstitious lost heart when it was
related that one of the “devils” had entered the sacred tomb of the
Mahdi, and numbers deserted desertwards, afterwards striking back to
town. Later on, it became known that not only had one of the shells
destroyed the Mimbar (pulpit), but had also destroyed the Mihrab—that
sacred niche in the wall of the mosque giving the direction of Mecca.
What rallying-place was there now for Mahdieh? And so more deserted.
Between ten and eleven at night a riderless horse from the British or
Egyptian cavalry came slowly moving, head down, towards the dervish
lines. The Khaleefa had related how, in one of his visions, he had seen
the Prophet mounted on his mare riding at the head of the avenging
angels destroying the infidels. This apparition of the riderless horse
was too much; at least one-third of the Khaleefa’s huge army deserted
terrified. When Yacoub told him of the desertions, Abdullahi merely
raised his head to say, “The prophecy will be fulfilled, if only five
people stay near me,” His Baggara and Taaishi stood by him, but they
too were losing heart, for the Khaleefa, on his knees, with head bowed
to the ground, was groaning, |268| instead of, as customary, repeating
the name of the Deity. However, he pulled round a little as the night
progressed, and invented visions enough to put spirits into the
remaining but slightly despondent troops.
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