awaiting my orders to be allowed to go to Omdurman; or had the Mahdi,
perhaps, changed his mind, and decided not to let me go? At length, one
of my boys came and told me that a mulazem of the Khalifa's wished to
see me, and, getting up, he told me to follow him to Yakub's camp, where
his master was waiting for me. Without a moment's delay, I bound my
turban round my head, put on my hizam (belt), and followed. At Yakub's
camp, we were told that the Khalifa had gone on to Abu Anga's zariba,
where he was waiting for us. I was beginning to get suspicious; all this
wandering about at night was very unusual. I knew how deceitful these
people were, and I was therefore prepared for any eventuality. Arrived
at Abu Anga's zariba, we were admitted by the sentry. It was an immense
enclosure filled with little shelters made of strips of cotton fixed on
poles, and separated from each other by small dhurra-stalk fences. We
were directed to one of these shelters, and there, by the dim light of a
lantern, I saw Yakub, Abu Anga, Fadl el Maula, Zeki Tummal, and Hajji
Zubeir seated round in a circle talking earnestly; behind them stood
several armed men; but no trace was to be seen of the Khalifa who, I had
been told, had sent for me. I was now almost certain in my own mind that
foul play was intended. The mulazem advanced and spoke to Yakub, and I
was then summoned to enter, and to place myself between Hajji Zubeir and
Fadl el Maula, while opposite to me sat Abu Anga.
"Abdel Kader," began Abu Anga, "you have promised to be faithful to the
Mahdi; and it is your duty to keep your word; it is also your duty to
obey orders, even should you suffer thereby. Is not this so?"
"Certainly," said I, "and you, Abu Anga, if you give me any orders from
the Mahdi or the Khalifa, you will see that I know how to obey them."
"I received orders to make you a prisoner; but I do not know the
reason," said he; and, as he spoke, Hajji Zubeir snatched away my sword,
which, as was customary, I had laid across my knees whilst speaking,
and, handing it to Zeki Tummal, he seized my right arm with both hands.
"I did not come here to fight," said I to Hajji Zubeir; "why should you
seize my arm; but you, Abu Anga, of course you must do as you are
bidden."
What I had often inflicted on others, I was now about to undergo myself.
Abu Anga then stood up, and also Hajji Zubeir and myself, when the
latter let go my arm.
"Go to that tent," said Abu Anga, pointing to a shelter which, in the
dark, I could scarcely see, "and you, Hajji Zubeir and the rest, go with
him."
Accompanied by my gaoler, and some eight others, I went to the tent,
where I was directed to sit on the ground, and chains were now brought
out. Two large iron rings, bound together by a thick iron bar, were
slipped over my feet, and then hammered close; an iron ring was placed
round my neck, and to this was attached a long iron chain with the links
so arranged that I had the greatest difficulty in moving my head. I
endured all this in perfect silence; Hajji Zubeir then left, and I was
told, by the two soldiers who were guarding me, to lie down on the
palm-mat close by.
Left to myself, I had now time to collect my thoughts; and, first of
all, I bitterly regretted not having attempted to escape on my horse to
Khartum; but who could tell if Gordon would have received me? Now, in
accordance with the Mahdi's orders, I was out of harm's way; but what
was to be my fate? Was it to be that of Mohammed Pasha Said and Ali Bey
Sherif? I was not in the habit of worrying about my personal concerns,
and making life miserable. What had Madibbo told me, "Be obedient and
patient; for he who lives long sees much." I had been obedient; it was
now my turn to practise patience; and as for a long life, that was
entirely in God's hands.
About an hour later, during which, as may be imagined, I had not slept,
I saw several mulazemin approaching, carrying lanterns, and, as they
neared the tent, I made out Khalifa Abdullahi walking in the middle. I
stood up and waited for him.
"Abdel Kader," said he, when he saw me standing in front of him, "are
you submitting with resignation to your fate?"
"Since my childhood," I replied quietly, "I have been accustomed to be
obedient; now I must be obedient whether I like it or no."
"Your friendship with Saleh Wad el Mek," said he, "and your
correspondence with Gordon, have cast suspicion on you, and we doubt if
your heart is still inclined to us; that is the reason I have ordered
you to be forcibly directed in the right way."
"I made no secret of my friendship with Saleh Wad el Mek," said I; "he
is a friend of mine, and I believe he is loyal to you. As regards my
correspondence with Gordon, the Mahdi ordered me to write the letters."
"Did he also order you to write what you did?" interrupted the Khalifa.
"I think I wrote what the Mahdi required," I replied; "and no one knows
the contents except myself and the person who received the letters. All
I require, sire, is justice; and I beg that you will pay no heed to
lying intriguers."
I was again alone, and tried to sleep, but was too excited. All sorts of
strange thoughts and ideas coursed through my brain; the iron round my
feet and neck too pained me considerably, and I could get no rest. I
scarcely got a wink of sleep that night; and, at sunrise, Abu Anga came,
followed by servants carrying some dishes of food. Seating himself
beside me on the palm-mat, the food was placed before us; it was quite a
feast, composed of meal, chickens, rice and milk, honey, roast meat and
asida. But when I told him I had absolutely no appetite, he said, "I
think, Abdel Kader, you are afraid; and that is why you do not eat."
"No," I replied, "it is not fear, but want of appetite. However, to
please you, I will try and eat something;" and I managed to swallow a
few mouthfuls, whilst Abu Anga did all he could to show that I was his
honoured guest.
"The Khalifa," said he, "was rather disappointed yesterday, when he saw
you were not humbled; and remarked you were strong-headed, and that, he
supposed, was the reason you were not afraid."
"How could I throw myself at his feet," said I, "and crave his pardon
for a crime I never committed? I am in his hands, and he can do as he
likes with me."
"To-morrow, we shall advance," said Abu Anga, "and draw nearer to
Khartum; we shall press the siege more closely, and then make a sudden
attack. I shall ask the Khalifa to let you stay with me; that will be
less hard for you than going to the common prison."
I thanked him for his kindness, and he then left.
All that day, I was quite alone, but went through my prayers most
carefully in the sight of the bystanders, holding in my hand the rosary
which all good Mohammedans carry; but in reality I was repeating over
and over again the Lord's prayer. In the far distance, near Abu Anga's
tent, I caught sight of my servants and horses and the little baggage I
had. One of my boys also came and told me he had been ordered to attach
himself to Abu Anga.
Early the next morning, the great war-drum sounded the advance; tents
were struck, baggage packed and loaded on camels, and the whole camp was
in movement. The weight of iron on my feet prevented me from walking, so
they brought me a donkey; the long neck-chain--the number of
figure-of-eight links of which I had amused myself in counting, and
which amounted to eighty-three, each about a span long--I wrapped round
and round my body, and in this iron casing I was lifted on to the
donkey, and held in position by a man on each side, otherwise my weight
would have made me overbalance and fall. On the march, several of my old
friends passed, but dared do nothing but pity me in silence. We halted
on some rising ground in the afternoon, and from here I could see the
palm-trees in Khartum; how I longed, as one of its garrison, to join in
its defence!
The order was now given to make a temporary camp in this position, under
Khalifa Abdullahi, whilst the principal Emirs went forward to select the
site for a permanent camp. By this time, the pangs of hunger had seized
me, and I longed for some of the food which Abu Anga had offered me
yesterday; but the latter was now with the Khalifa, and had evidently
forgotten all about us. However, the wife of one of my guards found him
out, and brought him some stale dhurra-bread, which he shared with me.
Next morning, we were again ordered to advance, and halted about an hour
further on, at the spot selected for the main camp. As Abu Anga had
promised, it was now arranged that I should definitely remain under his
charge; a tattered old tent was pitched for me, and around it, close to
the tent ropes, a thorn zariba was made. I was put in here, and the
entrance, which was guarded by soldiers, was blocked by a large
thorn-bush.
The Mahdi now ordered the siege to be vigorously pressed; that evening
several Emirs were sent over to the east bank of the White Nile to
reinforce Wad en Nejumi and Abu Girga; and all the local people were
summoned to join in the investment. Abu Anga and Fadl el Maula were told
off to besiege Omdurman fort, which was situated about five hundred
yards from the river, on the west bank, and was defended by Faragalla
Pasha,--a Sudanese officer who, in the space of one year, had been
promoted from the rank of captain to that of general officer, by Gordon.
Abu Anga succeeded in establishing himself between the fort and the
river; and, by digging deep trenches, he obtained sufficient shelter to
hold this advanced position in spite of the heavy fire from both the
fort and the steamers; one of the latter he succeeded in sinking by
shells fired from a gun he had placed in position; but the crew managed
to escape to Khartum.[13]
During the siege, I was quite neglected; my guards were changed every
day, and my welfare entirely depended on their treatment of me. If they
happened to be slaves who had been captured, I was most carefully
watched, and permitted to have no intercourse with any one; but if they
happened to be old soldiers who knew me, I was not so closely
restrained, and they often did me little services, though they prevented
me from speaking to any one. My food was of the very worst description;
and, Abu Anga being always occupied in the siege, I was left to the
tender mercies of his wives, to whom he had given orders to feed me.
On one occasion, one of my former soldiers happened to be on guard over
me, and I sent him with a message to Abu Anga's chief wife, complaining
that I had been kept without food for two days; and I got back the
answer, "Well, does Abdel Kader think we are going to fatten him up
here, whilst his uncle, Gordon Pasha, does nothing but fire shells all
day at our master, whose life is always in danger through his fault? If
he had made his uncle submit, he would not now be in chains." From her
own standpoint, the woman's views were perfectly justifiable.
Occasionally, some of the Greeks were allowed to come and see me, and
they used to tell me the news.
On the day we arrived here, poor Lupton Bey was also thrown into chains,
as he was suspected of attempting to join Gordon; besides, when his
effects were searched, a document was found, signed by all the officers
of his regular troops, stating that he had been forced to surrender his
province. His wife and little daughter of five years old were sent to
live at the Beit el Mal. The former had been brought up as a Black
servant girl in the house of Rosset, formerly German Consul at Khartum,
and, on his being appointed Governor of Darfur, she had accompanied him
there; on his death at El Fasher, she went with Lupton to Equatoria and
Bahr el Ghazal. By the Khalifa's orders, all Lupton's property was
confiscated; but he allowed his wife and child the services of a Black
female slave to help them in their daily work.
One day, George Calamatino brought me the news that the English army,
under Lord Wolseley, was advancing slowly, and had reached Dongola; but
they had delayed too long in Upper Egypt, and now that Khartum was in
the greatest danger, their advanced guard was no further south than
Dongola: under these circumstances, when could their main body arrive?
Some time after the proclamation of the abandonment of the Sudan had
been made known, Gordon had given the Khartum people to understand that
an English army was coming up to relieve them; and he had thus inspired
the garrison and inhabitants with hope and courage. They had been, so to
speak, given a new lease of life, and all eyes were anxiously turned to
the north, from whence the expected help was to come. Would it come in
time?--that was the question.
These days passed in my tattered tent were full of hopes and fears. It
was not that I was concerned about my own safety, but I could not help
anticipating coming events with the greatest anxiety; how would it all
end, and what was to be my future?
Poor Lupton, in company with some Dervishes, was forced to work a gun
which had been placed in position opposite Tuti Island. He had been
promised that, in recompense for this work, the condition of his wife
and child would be improved, and they would be given better means of
subsistence.
Abdalla Wad Ibrahim also came to me, and said it was the Mahdi's earnest
wish that I should take charge of a gun; and, if I worked it faithfully,
he would give me my liberty. I replied that I was too ill and weak to
work laden with these chains; and, besides, I had no idea how guns were
worked; and that therefore it was impossible for me to buy my liberty at
this price.
"Perhaps," said Wad Ibrahim, "you are unwilling to fire on Gordon, who
is said to be your uncle, and that is your reason for making these
excuses?"
"I have neither uncle nor any other relatives in Khartum," said I; "and
my shells alone would certainly not force Khartum to surrender; however,
my present state of health will not admit of my undertaking this work."
Abdalla rose and left me; and, a few hours later, some of the Khalifa's
mulazemin came and forged on to my ankles another set of iron rings and
a bar,--to humble me I suppose; but as the weight I already bore
prevented me from standing upright, and I was obliged to remain lying
down day and night, an iron more or less did not make much difference.
The next few days passed without anything noteworthy occurring.
Occasionally I heard the crack of the rifles and the booming of the guns
of besieger and besieged; but the Greeks were not allowed to come and
see me now, and I was in complete ignorance of what was going on.
One night about four hours after sunset, when blessed sleep, which makes
one forget all one's troubles, was gradually stealing over me, I was
suddenly roused by the sentry, and ordered to get up at once; as I did
so, I saw one of the Khalifa's mulazemin, who announced that his master
was just coming; and, as he spoke, I saw men approaching carrying
lanterns. What could the Khalifa want of me at such an hour? I asked
myself in great perplexity.
"Abdel Kader," said he, in a kindly tone, as he approached, "sit down;"
and, his servants having stretched out his sheepskin, he sat on it
beside me. "I have here," he continued, "a piece of paper; and I want
you to tell me what is written on it, and so prove to me your fidelity."
"Certainly, if I can do so," said I, taking the paper. It was about half
the size of a cigarette paper, and there was plain writing in black ink
on both sides of it. I at once recognised Gordon's handwriting and
signature; I held the paper close to the lantern, and saw the following
words written in French:--
I have about 10,000 men; can hold Khartum at the outside till
the end of January. Elias Pasha wrote to me; he was forced to do
so. He is old and incapable; I forgive him. Try Hajji Mohammed
Abu Girga, or sing another song. GORDON.
There was nothing to show for whom it was intended. I was certain there
was no one in the camp who knew French, and that was the reason the
Khalifa had come to me.
"Now, then," said the Khalifa, impatiently, "have you made out what it
means?"
"The note is from Gordon," said I, "and it is written with his own hand,
in French cypher language, which I cannot understand."
"What do you say?" said the Khalifa, now evidently much agitated;
"explain yourself better."
"There are some words written here the sense of which I cannot make
out," said I; "every word has its own special meaning, and can only be
understood by those accustomed to the use of cyphers; if you ask any of
the old officials, they will confirm what I say."
"I was told that the names of Elias Pasha and Hajji Mohammed Abu Girga
are mentioned; is this so?" roared the Khalifa, now thoroughly angry.
"The man who said that told you the truth, and I also can read their
names; but it is impossible for me to understand the reference. Perhaps
the man who told you their names were there can make out the rest of the
letter," said I, somewhat ironically; "besides I can also make out
10,000 in figures; but whether it means soldiers, or something else, it
is quite impossible for me to say."
He now seized the paper from my hand, and stood up.
"Pardon me," said I, "I would with pleasure have proved my fidelity to
you, and have thus regained your gracious favour; but it is out of my
power. I think your clerks understand about cyphers better than I do."
"Even if I do not know what this paper contains," said the Khalifa,
"still Gordon shall fall, and Khartum will be ours;" and then he
departed, leaving me alone with my guards.
Gordon had said in his little note that he could hold Khartum at the
outside till the end of January; we were now nearly at the end of
December. Could the rescuing army possibly arrive in time? But why
should I worry myself with such thoughts? Here am I in chains, and
utterly useless to any one, and nothing I can do can change the course
of things.
The next morning, I had a visit from a Greek, now called Abdullahi, who
had been appointed Emir of the Muslimania (Christians who had become
Moslems.) Without letting him know that the Khalifa had come to me the
previous night, I asked him what was the news, and whether anything was
known of the English expedition. He told me that the advanced guard had
reached Debbeh, and was about to advance to Metemmeh; that the Mahdi
knew all about this, and had ordered all the Barabra and Jaalin to
collect at Metemmeh under Mohammed el Kheir, and await the enemy. He
told me that the siege was drawn more closely round Khartum, and that,
the previous day, the garrison had attempted to make a sortie, but had
been forced back; that Sanjak Mohammed Kafr Jod, the brother of the
imprisoned Saleh Wad el Mek, had been killed, that his head had been cut
off and sent to the Khalifa, who had ordered it to be thrown at the feet
of Saleh, who was gazing at the ground. Recognising instantly his
brother's head, but without the slightest change of countenance, Saleh
said, "Di gizahu, di kismathu" (This is his punishment, this is his
fate); then, turning to the saier (commander of the prison), he said to
him, "Did you mean by this to startle me, or inspire me with fear?" What
nerves and self-control the man must have had!
The next day, one of my guards told me that Mohammed Khaled had sent
reinforcements of men and some ammunition from Darfur to the Mahdi; also
that some of the Emirs of Khalifa Ali Wad Helu's flag had received
orders to leave for Metemmeh, under the command of his brother, Musa Wad
Helu. No doubt there was something in the wind.
It was now the beginning of January, and Gordon had said he could hold
out till the end of the month; so the decisive moment was drawing closer
and closer.
During the next few days, there was very heavy firing between the
Dervishes and Omdurman fort. Faragalla Pasha was doing his utmost; and,
in spite of the small number of his men, he attempted a sortie, but was
driven back. The supplies in the fort were finished, and negotiations
were now going on for its surrender. Faragalla had signalled to Gordon
for instructions; but the latter, being unable to support him, had told
him to capitulate. The entire garrison received the Mahdi's pardon. The
men had nothing but the clothes in which they stood, and their wives and
children were all in Khartum. As they marched out, the Mahdists marched
in, but were almost immediately driven out again by the artillery fire
from Khartum; in the fort itself there were two breech-loading guns, but
their range did not extend as far as the town. The surrender took place
on 15th January, 1885.
Although Omdurman had now fallen, the Mahdi did not send any
reinforcements to the besiegers south and east of Khartum; he well knew
that the number of his followers collected there was quite sufficient
for the purpose. Both he and the garrison of Khartum now looked, with
the most intense anxiety, towards the north from whence the final
decision must be awaited.
Gordon Pasha had sent five steamers to Metemmeh some time ago, under
Khashm el Mus and Abdel Hamid Wad Mohammed, in order to await the
arrival of the English, and bring some of them, with the necessary
supplies, to Khartum as soon as possible. No doubt he was expecting
their arrival with the greatest anxiety. He had staked everything on
this; and no one knew what had become of them.
At the beginning of the month, Gordon had allowed several of the
families to leave Khartum. Up to that time, he could not bear to
forcibly drive them out of the town; and, in consequence, he had been
obliged to make a daily distribution of hundreds of okes of biscuit and
dhurra amongst these destitute people; and for that he had, no doubt,
God's reward, but he thereby ruined himself and his valuable men. Every
one was crying out for bread, and the stores were almost empty! He now
did all he could to induce the people to leave the town. Had he only
done so two or three months earlier, there would have been ample
supplies to last the troops a long time; but Gordon, thinking that help
was coming so soon to him, to the troops, and to the inhabitants, did
not provide for possible detentions. Did he think that it was out of the
question for an English expedition to be delayed?
Six days after the fall of Omdurman, loud weeping and wailing filled our
camp; since I had left Darfur I had not heard anything like it. The
Mahdi's doctrine forbade the display of sorrow and grief for those who
died, or were killed, because they had entered into the joys of
Paradise. Something very unusual must therefore have happened to make
the people dare to transgress the Mahdi's regulations. My guards, who
were old soldiers, were so curious to know the cause that they left me
to make inquiries, and, in a few minutes, brought back the startling
news, that the English advanced guard had met the combined force of
Barabra, Jaalin, Degheim, and Kenana, under Musa Wad Helu at Abu Teleh
(Abu Klea), and had utterly defeated them; thousands had fallen, and the
few who had survived had returned, many of them wounded. The Degheim and
Kenana had been almost annihilated; Musa Wad Helu, and most of the
Emirs, had fallen.
What news!--my heart was literally thumping with joyous excitement.
After all these long years, a crowning victory at last! The Mahdi and
Khalifa at once gave orders that all this noise should cease; but for
hours the weeping and wailing of the women continued. Instructions were
now given to Nur Angara to start off with troops towards Metemmeh; but
what good would this do, even if he had had the will, which he had not,
what could he do with a few troops when thousands and thousands of wild
fanatics had failed? Within the next two or three days, came the news of
other defeats at Abu Kru and Kubba (Gubat), and of the erection of a
fort on the Nile close to Metemmeh. The Mahdi and his principal Emirs
now held a consultation. All the wonderful victories they had gained up
to the present were at stake; for those besieging Khartum were terrified
and had retired. It was now the question of a few days only, and the
Mahdi was done. They must risk everything. Consequently, orders were
sent out to the besiegers to collect and make all preparations. Why did
the long expected steamers with the English troops not come? Did their
commanders not know Khartum, and the lives of all in it, were hanging by
a thread? In vain did I, and thousands of others, wait for the shrill
whistle of the steamer, and for the booming of the guns announcing that
the English had arrived, and were passing the entrenchments made by the
Dervishes to oppose them. Yes, in vain! The delay was inexplicable; what
could it mean? Had new difficulties arisen?
It was now Sunday, the 25th of January,--a day I shall never forget as
long as I live. That evening, when it was dark, the Mahdi and his
Khalifas crossed over in a boat to where their warriors were all
collected ready for the fight. It was known during the day that Khartum
would be attacked the next morning; and the Mahdi had now gone to brace
up his followers for the fray by preaching to them the glories of Jehad,
and urging them to fight till death. Pray Heaven Gordon may have got the
news, and made his preparations to resist in time!
On this occasion, the Mahdi and his Khalifas had most strictly enjoined
their followers to restrain their feelings, and receive the last
injunctions in silence, instead of with the usual shouts and
acclamations, which might awaken the suspicions of the exhausted and
hungry garrison. His solemn harangue over, the Mahdi recrossed, and
returned to the camp at dawn, leaving with the storming party only
Khalifa Sherif, who had begged to be allowed to join in the holy battle.
That night was for me the most excitingly anxious one in my life. If
only the attack were repulsed, Khartum would be saved; otherwise, all
would be lost. Utterly exhausted, I was just dropping off to sleep at
early dawn, when I was startled by the deafening discharge of thousands
of rifles and guns; this lasted for a few minutes, then only occasional
rifle-shots were heard, and now all was quiet again. It was scarcely
light, and I could barely distinguish objects. Could this possibly be
the great attack on Khartum? A wild discharge of fire-arms and cannon,
and in a few minutes complete stillness?
The sun was now rising red over the horizon; what would this day bring
forth? Excited and agitated, I awaited the result with intense
impatience. Soon shouts of rejoicing and victory were heard in the
distance; and my guards ran off to find out the news. In a few minutes,
they were back again, excitedly relating how Khartum had been taken by
storm, and was now in the hands of the Mahdists. Was it possible the
news was false? I crawled out of my tent, and scanned the camp; a great
crowd had collected before the quarters of the Mahdi and Khalifa, which
were not far off; then there was a movement in the direction of my tent;
and I could see plainly they were coming towards me. In front, marched
three Black soldiers; one named Shatta, formerly belonging to Ahmed Bey
Dafalla's slave body-guard, carried in his hands a bloody cloth in which
something was wrapped up, and behind him followed a crowd of people
weeping. The slaves had now approached my tent, and stood before me with
insulting gestures; Shatta undid the cloth and showed me the head of
General Gordon!
The blood rushed to my head, and my heart seemed to stop beating; but,
with a tremendous effort of self-control, I gazed silently at this
ghastly spectacle. His blue eyes were half-opened; the mouth was
perfectly natural; the hair of his head, and his short whiskers, were
almost quite white.
"Is not this the head of your uncle the unbeliever?" said Shatta,
holding the head up before me.
"What of it?" said I, quietly. "A brave soldier who fell at his post;
happy is he to have fallen; his sufferings are over."
[Illustration: Bringing Gordon's Head to Slatin.]
"Ha, ha!" said Shatta, "so you still praise the unbeliever; but you will
soon see the result;" and, leaving me, he went off to the Mahdi, bearing
his terrible token of victory; behind him followed the crowd, still
weeping.
I re-entered my tent. I was now utterly broken-hearted: Khartum fallen,
and Gordon dead! And this was the end of the brave soldier who had
fallen at his post,--the end of a man whose courage and utter disregard
of fear were remarkable, and whose personal characteristics had given
him a celebrity in the world which was quite exceptional.
Of what use was the English army now? How fatal had been the delay at
Metemmeh! The English advanced guard had reached Gubat on the Nile, on
the 20th of January, at 10 A. M.; on the 21st, Gordon's four steamers
had arrived. Then why did they not send some Englishmen on board, no
matter how few, and despatch them instantly to Khartum? If they could
only have been seen in the town, the garrison would have taken fresh
hope, and would have fought tooth and nail against the enemy; whilst the
inhabitants, who had lost all confidence in Gordon's promises, would
have joined most heartily in resisting the Dervish attack, knowing that
the relief expedition was now certain to reach them. Gordon, of course,
had done his utmost to hold the town: he had announced that an English
army was coming; he had made a paper currency; had distributed
decorations and honours almost daily, in order to keep up the hearts of
the garrison; and, as the position had become more desperate, he had
made almost superhuman efforts to induce the troops to hold out; but
despair had taken possession of them. What was the use of all these
decorations now; what good were all their ranks and honours? And as for
the paper money, perhaps there were one or two still hopeful people who
would buy a pound note for a couple of piastres,[14] on the chance that,
by some stroke of luck, the Government might yet be victorious; but
gradually even these slender hopes disappeared. Gordon's promises were
no longer credited; if but one steamer with a few English officers had
reached the town, to bring the news that they had won a victory, and had
reached the Nile, the troops and inhabitants would have doubted no
longer, and they would have been convinced that Gordon's words were
true. An English officer would at once have noticed that part of the
lines which had been damaged by the overflow of the White Nile, and
could have ordered its repair. But what could Gordon do single-handed,
and without the assistance of any European officers; it was impossible
for him to look to everything, nor had he the means of seeing that his
orders were carried out to his satisfaction. How was it possible for a
commander who could not give his troops food, to expect these starving
men to carry out with precision and energy the instructions he issued?
On the unfortunate night of the 25th of January, Gordon was told that
the Mahdists had decided to make an attack; and he had issued his orders
accordingly. Perhaps he himself doubted if they would attack so early in
the morning. At the time the Mahdi was crossing the river, Gordon, to
stimulate his followers, had made a display of fireworks in the town;
various coloured rockets were fired, and the band played, with the
object of reviving the flagging spirits of the famished garrison. The
display was over, the music had ceased, and Khartum was asleep, whilst
the enemy crept cautiously and silently forward to the attack. They knew
all the weak and strong points of the lines of defence; they knew also
that the regulars were stationed at the strong points, and that the
broken-down parapet and tumbled-in ditch near the White Nile were weakly
defended by the feeble inhabitants. This particular part of the lines
was sadly out of repair; it had never been actually completed, and, when
damaged by the water, no steps had been taken to re-make it. Every day
the Nile became lower, and every day exposed a broader strip of
undefended wet mud, which the hungry and hopeless people merely made a
show of defending. It was opposite to this open space that, at early
dawn, the bulk of the attacking force had collected, whilst the other
portion of the Mahdist army faced the main position. At a given signal,
the attack began. Those holding the White Nile flank, after firing a few
shots, fled precipitately; and, while the troops were occupied in
repelling the storming parties in their immediate front, thousands and
thousands of wild Arabs, dashing through the mud and water which was
only up to their knees, poured into the town, and, to their dismay, the
defenders on the lines found themselves attacked from the rear. Very
slight resistance was made, and most of the troops laid down their arms.
Numbers of the Egyptians were massacred; but, of the Blacks, few were
killed, whilst the enemy's losses within the lines did not exceed eighty
to one hundred men. Soon afterwards, the gates were opened by the
Dervishes, and the troops were permitted to march out to the Mahdist
camp.
Once the line of the White Nile was crossed, the great mass of the enemy
rushed towards the town. "Lil Saraya! lil Kenisa!" (To the Palace! to
the Church!) was the cry; for it was here they expected to find the
treasure and Gordon, who had so long defended the city against them, and
had up to that day defied all their efforts. Amongst the leaders in the
attack on the Palace were the followers of Makin Wad en Nur, who was
afterwards killed at the battle of Toski, and belonged to the Arakin
tribe; Makin's brother Abdalla Wad en Nur, their beloved leader, had
been killed during the siege, and they were now seeking to avenge his
death. Many of Abu Girga's men were also forward in the rush to the
Palace; they wanted to wipe out the defeat they had suffered when Gordon
had driven them out of Burri. The Palace servants who lived in the
basement were instantly massacred; and Gordon himself, standing on the
top of the steps leading to the divan, awaited the approach of the
Arabs. Taking no notice of his question, "Where is your master the
Mahdi?" the first man up the steps plunged his huge spear into his body;
he fell forward on his face, without uttering a word. His murderers
dragged him down the steps to the Palace entrance; and here his head
was cut off, and at once sent over to the Mahdi at Omdurman, whilst his
body was left to the mercy of those wild fanatics. Thousands of these
inhuman creatures pressed forward merely to stain their swords and
spears with his blood; and soon all that remained was a heap of mangled
flesh. For a long time, stains of blood marked the spot where this
atrocity took place; and the steps, from top to bottom, for weeks bore
the same sad traces, until they were at last washed off when the Khalifa
decided to make the Palace an abode for his former and his future wives.
When Gordon's head was brought to the Mahdi, he remarked he would have
been better pleased had they taken him alive; for it was his intention
to convert him, and then hand him over to the English Government in
exchange for Ahmed Arabi Pasha, as he had hoped that the latter would
have been of assistance to him in helping him to conquer Egypt. My own
opinion, however, is that this regret on the part of the Mahdi was
merely assumed; for had he expressed any wish that Gordon's life should
be spared, no one would have dared to disobey his orders.
Gordon had done his utmost to save the lives of the Europeans who were
with him. Colonel Stewart, with some of the Consuls and many of the
Europeans, he had allowed to go to Dongola; but unfortunately the
incapable and disaffected crew of their steamer, the "Abbas," had run
her on to a rock in the cataracts, and had thus given up him and his
companions to the treacherous death which had been prepared for them. On
the pretext that the Greeks were good men on boats, Gordon had offered
them a steamer, on which it was arranged they should make a visit of
inspection on the White Nile, thus intending to give them an opportunity
to escape south to join Emin Pasha; but they had refused to accept.
Being much concerned as to their safety, Gordon now made another
proposal: he ordered all roads leading towards the Blue Nile to be
placed out of bounds after ten o'clock at night; and he charged the
Greeks with watching them, so that they might have a chance of escaping
to a steamer moored close by, in which it was arranged they should
escape; but, owing to a disagreement between themselves as to the
details of the plan, it fell through. I have little doubt in my own mind
that these Greeks did not really wish to leave the town. In their own
homes and in Egypt most of them had been very poor, and had held merely
subordinate positions; but here in the Sudan many had made their
fortunes, and were therefore by no means anxious to quit a country from
which they had reaped so great advantages.
Gordon seemed anxious about the safety of every one but himself. Why did
he neglect to make a redoubt, or keep within the fortifications, the
central point of which might well have been the Palace? From a military
point of view I think this is a fair criticism; but probably Gordon did
not do so, lest he should be suspected of being concerned for his own
safety; and it was probably a similar idea which influenced him in his
decision not to have a strong guard at the Palace. He might well have
employed a company of soldiers for this purpose; and who would have
thought of questioning the advantage of protecting himself? With a guard
of this strength, he could easily have reached the steamer "Ismaïlia,"
which was lying close to the Palace, scarcely three hundred yards from
the gate. Fagarli, the captain, saw the enemy rushing to the Palace. In
vain he waited for Gordon; and it was only when the latter was killed,
and he saw the Dervishes making for his boat, that he steamed off into
mid-stream, and moved backwards and forwards along the front of the town
until he received a message from the Mahdi offering him pardon. As his
wife and family and some of his crew were in the city, he accepted the
offer and landed; but how sadly had he been deluded. Rushing to his
home, he found his son--a boy of ten years old--lying dead on the
doorstep, whilst his wife, in her agony, had thrown herself on her
child's body, and lay pierced with several lances.
The cruelties and atrocities perpetrated in the terrible massacre which
followed Gordon's death are beyond description. Male and female slaves,
and young, good-looking women of the free tribes, alone were spared; and
if some others succeeded in escaping, they had only to thank a lucky
chance which saved them from the merciless bloodshed of that awful day.
Not a few resolved to put an end to their own lives; amongst these was
Mohammed Pasha Hussein, the head of the Finance, who, standing beside
the dead bodies of his only daughter and her husband, was urged by some
friends to fly with them, and let them save him; but he refused. They
tried to take him by force; but, in a loud voice, he heaped curses on
the Mahdi and his followers, and some fanatics passing by soon
despatched him. Several people were killed by their former servants and
slaves, who, having previously joined the enemy, now acted as guides to
the wild hordes thirsting for blood, plunder, and rapine.
Fathalla Gehami, a wealthy Syrian (whose wife was the daughter of the
wholesale French dealer Contarini, and to whom, on her father's death
some years ago, I had given a lodging with her little child in my
house), had buried all his money in a corner of his house, with the
assistance of his servant, a Dongola boy whom he had brought up from
quite a child. None but he, his wife Lisa, and his boy knew the secret
hiding-place; and when the situation became so serious in the town, he
called up the lad and, in his wife's presence, said to him, "Mohammed, I
have taken care of you since you were quite a child, and I trust you;
you know where the money is hidden. Our condition is gradually growing
worse. You have relatives with the Mahdi; you can go to them, and if the
Government is victorious you can return to me without fear of
punishment. But should the Mahdi conquer, then you can repay me for my
kindness to you." Obedient to his master's wishes, the boy left the
town, and, on the morning of the attack, he, with some of his relatives,
rushed to his employer's house. "Open, open!" he shouted at the top of
his voice; "I am your child, your servant Mohammed." Fathalla Gehami
joyfully opened the great iron gate which had been so strengthened and
barred that it defied entry; and in an instant his faithless servant had
plunged his spear into his body. Dashing with his friends over his
master's prostrate form, he made for the hiding-place of the money, and
instantly seized it; on his way out of the house, he rushed at
Fathalla's wife, who had seen the whole proceedings of this ungrateful
young bloodhound, and would have killed her too, but she threw herself
on the body of her husband, who was in his death-agony; and Mohammed's
friends with difficulty drew him off before he had time to plunge his
knife into the poor woman who had been his kind protectress for so many
years.
The Greek Consul Leontides was called out of his house by a crowd of
fanatics who had been worked up into a state of excitement by a man who
owed him money; and, on his appearance, he was instantly killed. Consul
Hansal was murdered by one of his own kavasses, who afterwards tied his
hands together, dragged the body out of the house, poured spirits over
it, heaped on it all the tobacco he could find, set it on fire, and,
when it was reduced to cinders, threw the remains into the river. Butros
Bulos, a clerk in the finance office, was perhaps the only man who came
well out of that awful day. He lived in a detached house, and had
collected round him his relatives; for some time they defended
themselves most successfully against all comers, and killed a number of
them. When summoned at last to surrender, he said he would only do so if
he were promised the Mahdi's pardon, and a guarantee that he should not
be separated from his family; as it was impossible to turn him out
without bringing up guns to bombard the house, Khalifa Sherif gave him
the pardon he required, which, curiously enough, was subsequently
ratified by the Mahdi.
The Shaigia post on Tuti Island surrendered after Khartum had fallen;
and the garrison were brought across to Omdurman in boats.
One could fill a volume with the details of the terrible atrocities
committed on that memorable day; yet I doubt if the fate of the
survivors was very much better. When all the houses were occupied, the
search for treasure began, and no excuse or denial was accepted; whoever
was suspected of having concealed money (and the majority of the
inhabitants had done so) was tortured until the secret was disclosed, or
until he succeeded in convincing his tormentors that he had nothing.
There was no sparing of the lash; the unfortunate people were flogged
until their flesh hung down in shreds from their bodies. Another torture
was to tie men up by their thumbs to a beam, and leave them dangling in
the air till they became unconscious; or two small pliant slips of
bamboo were tied horizontally to their temples, and the two ends, before
and behind, being joined together and twisted as tightly as possible,
were struck with vibrating sticks which produced agony inexpressible.
Even women of an advanced age were tormented in this way; and the
most sensitive parts of their bodies were subjected to a species of
torture which it is impossible for me to describe here. Suffice it to
say that the most appalling methods were resorted to in order to
discover hidden treasure. Young women and girls only were exempted from
these abominable tortures, for no other reason than that such atrocities
might interfere in some manner with the object for which they had been
reserved. All such were put aside for the harem of the Mahdi, who, on
the actual day of the conquest, made his selections, and turned over the
rejected ones to his Khalifas and principal Emirs. This picking and
choosing continued for weeks together, until the households of these
libidinous and inhuman scoundrels were stocked to overflowing with all
the unfortunate youth and beauty of the fallen city.
The next day, a general amnesty was given to all, with the exception of
the Shaigia, who were still considered outlaws; but, in spite of this,
murders and atrocities continued for many days subsequent to the fall of
Khartum.
The Emir Abu Girga made every effort to discover the hiding-place of the
sons of Saleh Wad el Mek; but for three days he was unsuccessful. They
were at last found, brought before him, and instantly beheaded. It
behoved also all Egyptians to look to themselves during these days of
massacre; for, if met alone by these fanatics, they were mercilessly
slaughtered. A merchant was making inquiries one day about the bazaar
prices in Omdurman, and asked what were at present the cheapest articles
and the greatest drug in the market; the man questioned, being evidently
a wag, answered: "The yellow-skinned Egyptian, the Shaigia, and the
dog," which, being considered an impure animal, was always killed when
found. This saying obtained great notoriety amongst the Dervishes, and
gives a very fair idea of the estimation in which they held the former
ruling class.
The plunder taken in Khartum was carried off to the Beit el Mal; but of
course large quantities were made away with. The principal houses were
distributed amongst the Emirs; and, on the day after the town fell, the
Mahdi and Khalifa Abdullahi crossed over from Omdurman in the steamer
"Ismaïlia" to view the scene of their bloody victory and massacre;
without a sign of pity or regret, they occupied the houses selected for
them, and, addressing their followers, described the disaster which had
overtaken Khartum as the just judgment of Heaven on the godless
inhabitants of the city, who had repeatedly rejected the Mahdi's summons
to them to surrender and become his faithful followers in the true
religion.
The first few days were spent in the wildest debauchery and excesses;
and it was not until the Mahdi and his followers had to some extent
satiated their vicious passions, that they turned their attention to the
dangers which threatened them from without. To oppose the English
expedition, the renowned Emir Abderrahman Wad Nejumi was ordered to
collect a large force and proceed forthwith to Metemmeh, to drive out
the infidels, who were known to have reached the Nile near this town.
On Wednesday morning, two days after Khartum had fallen, at about eleven
o'clock, the thunder of guns and the sharp crack of rifles were heard
in the direction of the north end of Tuti Island; and soon two steamers
came in view,--these were the "Telahawia" and "Bordein," carrying Sir
Charles Wilson and some English officers and men who had come up to
assist General Gordon. Sanjak Kashm el Mus and Abdel Hamid Mohammed,
whom Gordon had despatched in command of the Shaigias, were also on
board; they had already heard of Gordon's death, and of the cruel fate
which had overtaken the town and its inhabitants. Although those on the
steamer had little doubt of the accuracy of the sad news, they wished to
see with their own eyes, and reached a point midway between Tuti Island
and the left bank of the White Nile; here they were heavily fired on by
the Dervishes from an entrenched position, situated northeast of
Omdurman Fort, and having seen Khartum in the distance, and been
convinced, they turned about and steamed away.
I subsequently heard from some of the crew of these steamers, that both
they and the Englishmen on board were deeply affected by the fall of the
city; they now knew that the entire Sudan was in the Mahdi's hands. It
was the talk on board, they said, that the English expedition had only
come up to save Gordon; and, now that he was killed, the object of the
expedition had failed, and they naturally concluded that it would retire
to Dongola, and that they would be called upon to accompany it.
Consequently the chief pilot of the "Telahawia" and the captain Abdel
Hamid agreed together to run the steamer on to a rock, and then escape
during the night. This plan was successfully carried out; and the
steamer stuck so hard and fast that the cargo had to be at once
transferred to the "Bordein." During the confusion, these two
conspirators escaped; and, through the intermediary of their friends,
they succeeded in securing the Mahdi's pardon, and returned subsequently
to Khartum. Here they were well received and publicly commended by the
Mahdi for having inflicted loss on their enemies, the British; Abdel
Hamid, in spite of being a hated Shaigia, and a relative of Saleh Wad
el Mek, was presented by the Mahdi with his own jibba, as a mark of
honour, and, moreover, several of his female relatives who, after the
sack of the town, had been distributed amongst the Emirs, were given
back to him.
Meanwhile, the "Bordein," on its return journey towards Metemmeh, struck
on a sand-bank, and, being heavily laden, could not be floated off. Sir
Charles Wilson's position was now very critical; with his small force he
could not have attempted to land on the west bank and attack the enemy,
which was entrenched at Wad Habeshi, between him and the British camp at
Gubat. It is true that the courage of this body of Dervishes had been
considerably shaken by the defeat at Abu Klea; but the fall of Khartum,
and the knowledge that Wad en Nejumi with a large force was advancing
north to their support, now transformed them into a formidable enemy. A
third steamer, the "Safia," was still at Gubat. Sir Charles Wilson
therefore sent an officer down stream in a small boat to ask for help;
the appeal was promptly responded to, the "Safia" starting, without
delay, to the relief of the "Bordein." The enemy hearing of this, at
once threw up entrenchments to oppose its progress, and, on its
approach, poured on the unfortunate steamer a perfect hail of rifle and
cannon shot; but those on board, determined to relieve their comrades in
distress, fought most bravely until a shot, penetrating the boiler,
disabled the steamer and placed it in the greatest danger. Undismayed,
however, the commander set to work, under a heavy fire, to repair the
damage; the work was continued during the night, and early the next
morning the "Safia" was able to continue her running fight with the
Dervishes, eventually succeeding in silencing the guns, and killing the
principal Emir, Ahmed Wad Faid, and a considerable number of subordinate
Emirs and men. The passage was forced; and Sir Charles Wilson and his
men relieved.
This daring exploit, which resulted in the rescue of the little band of
Englishmen who had ventured to Khartum, also had a very important,
though indirect, effect on the subsequent fate of the small British
column near Metemmeh. The advance of Nejumi, which, under any
circumstances, was not rapid, owing to the difficulty of collecting the
men, was still further delayed by the news of the death of Ahmed Wad
Faid, and the defeat of the strong body of Dervishes at Wad Habeshi by
one steamer. I was informed that on hearing of the success of the
"Safia" (whose able commander I learnt on my return to Egypt was Lord
Charles Beresford), Nejumi addressed his men, and pointed out to them,
that if the English advanced with the intention of taking the Sudan,
they must of course oppose them; but if, on the other hand, they retired
towards Dongola, then he and his men would be able to occupy the country
they had abandoned without the risk of further fighting. And it was this
latter course which he eventually took. Delaying his advance, he reached
Metemmeh only after the British had retired from Gubat; and, although he
pursued them as far as Abu Klea, he hesitated somewhat to attack unless
quite assured of success.
It was only when the Mahdi learnt of the final retirement of the British
advanced guard that he was convinced the Sudan had at last been
completely won; and now his delight knew no bounds. He announced the
news in the mosque and drew a striking picture of the flight of the
unbelievers, embellishing it further by a revelation from the Prophet to
the effect that their water-skins had all been pierced, through Divine
intervention, and that all those who had taken part in the expedition
had died of thirst.
On the fifth day after the fall of Khartum, a small band of soldiers
suddenly appeared in my tattered tent; and, placing me, still shackled
and bound, on a donkey, they carried me off to the general prison, where
they hammered on to my ankles a third and exceptionally heavy iron bar
and rings (nicknamed the Hajji Fatma); it weighed about eighteen pounds,
and was only put on those who were considered exceptionally obstinate or
dangerous prisoners. I was quite ignorant of the reasons which caused me
to fall still lower in the Khalifa's disfavour; but I found out later
that Gordon, when he had ascertained from my letters to him that the
Mahdist force advancing on Khartum was not a strong one, that many of
the Mahdi's adherents were discontented, and that there was considerable
scarcity of ammunition, had written to this effect to several of the
principal officers on the lines; one of his letters containing this
information was discovered in the loot handed over to Ahmed Wad Suleiman
in the Beit el Mal, by whom it had been passed to the Mahdi and Khalifa.
Thus were their suspicions regarding my behaviour confirmed, and my
schemes to escape and join Gordon laid bare.
I was deposited in one corner of the immense zariba, where I was ordered
to stay, and to hold no converse with any one without permission, on
pain of instant flogging. At sunset, I, a number of slaves who were
under sentence for having murdered their masters, and other gentlemen of
this description were bound together by a long chain passing round our
feet and fastened to the trunk of a tree; and at sunrise the next
morning, we were unfastened, and I was sent back to my corner again. I
could just see Lupton, in the distance, in another corner of the
enclosure. He had been in here for some time, and had become used to it;
he had permission to speak to others, but was under strict orders of the
saier, or gaoler, not, on any account, to speak to me. On the day that I
had been brought to the prison, Saleh Wad el Mek had been discharged;
his brother, sons, and almost all his relatives had been killed, and he
was now allowed to go and search for the survivors. As regards food, I
now fared considerably worse; I had, in this respect, fallen out of the
frying pan into the fire. I used to complain of being occasionally
hungry; but now I received only uncooked dhurra, getting the same share
as the slaves, and a very small share it was. Fortunately, the wife of
one of my warders, a Darfur woman, took pity upon me, and used to take
the corn away, boil it, and bring it back to me; but she was not allowed
to bring me any other food, as her husband feared the principal gaoler
might find out, and he, in his turn, was afraid of incurring the
Khalifa's displeasure. I lay on the bare ground, with a stone for my
pillow, the hardness of which gave me a continual headache; but, one day
whilst we were being driven to the river--one hundred and fifty yards
distant--to wash, I picked up the lining of a donkey saddle, which the
owner had evidently thrown away as old and useless; and, hiding it under
my arm, I bore it off in triumph, and that night I slept like a king on
his pillow of down.
Gradually, my position improved somewhat. The principal gaoler, who was
not really disinclined towards me, allowed me to converse occasionally
with the other prisoners, and removed my lightest foot-irons; but the
Hajji Fatma and her sister still remained, and I cannot say this pair of
worthies conduced much to my personal comfort during those long and
weary months of imprisonment.
One day, a Black woman came in with her child--a nice little girl--to
visit her poor husband and the child's father, Lupton. The poor little
thing wept bitterly, for, young as she was, she was old enough to
understand the miserable plight of her father, who, before they left,
sent them to say a few words to me. The poor woman looked at me for a
few moments, and then, taking my hand, wept aloud. I remembered I had
often seen her before; and, between her sobs, she reminded me that she
had come to Khartum as a young girl, and had been brought up in
Frederick Rosset's house, where, during my first journey to the Sudan, I
had stayed for some weeks. Poor Zenoba! she reminded me of many little
incidents which had happened in the old days; and, as she related them,
she often broke down, comparing her former happiness with her present
misery. I tried to console her, urging her to keep up hope, and that
perhaps everything would end well. "Besides," I said, "it was never
intended that human beings should always live well and comfortably."
Little Fatma, whom we called Fanny, flung herself into my arms, calling
me, ammi (my uncle); and it seemed as if her heart told her
instinctively that, amongst all this crowd, I was next to her father in
her affections. I then begged the poor woman to leave me, as I feared
taking advantage of the gaoler's patience.
At this time, there was some difficulty in supplying food to the Black
soldiers under Abu Anga, whose number had been further increased by the
Khartum garrison. As there was no immediate fear of any movement on the
part of the Government towards Khartum, it was decided to despatch Abu
Anga to Southern Kordofan on a punitive expedition against the Nubas,
and to procure slaves and send them to Omdurman. Shortly after the fall
of Khartum, the Mahdi had moved his camp north; and the fort known as
Tabia Ragheb Bey, and the ground in the vicinity, had been told off for
Abu Anga's camp. When he was ordered off, and his place taken by his
brother, Fadl el Maula, all my servants, male and female, left with him;
and, although the latter were not permitted to visit me, I felt that,
with Abu Anga's departure, yet another link was severed.
I now received news of the other servants I had left behind at El
Fasher. On my arrival at Rahad, I had told the Khalifa I had left behind
two horses, which were almost the best in Darfur, and which I hinted he
might have if he wished; but, it being summer, and as they would
probably have suffered from the long and hot journey, I had not brought
them with me. Subsequently, I had requested him to give orders that not
only the horses, but also my male and female servants who had been left
behind, should also be sent on. He consequently had written to Mohammed
Khaled to this effect; but, on the day on which I had been made a
prisoner, he had written to Sayed Mahmud of El Obeid to seize my people
as soon as they came from Darfur, but to send on the two horses. The
latter had now arrived in Omdurman; and the soldier who had been in
charge came to tell me that the Khalifa was much pleased with them,
having taken one for himself and given the other to his brother Yakub.
A few days later, there was considerable commotion amongst the warders;
and the saier told me privately that the Khalifa was coming to visit the
prison. I asked him to advise me how I should behave; and he recommended
me to answer all questions promptly, on no account to make any
complaints, and to remain submissively in my corner. About midday, the
Khalifa arrived, accompanied by his brothers and mulazemin, and began to
walk round and view these victims of his justice. It seemed that the
saier had given the same advice to all the prisoners that he had given
to me, for they all behaved quietly; some were ordered to have their
chains removed, and to be discharged. At length, the Khalifa approached
my corner, and, with a friendly nod, said, "Abdel Kader, enta tayeb?"
(Abdel Kader, are you well?). To which I replied, "Ana tayeb, Sidi" (I
am well, sire); and with that he moved on. Yunes Wad Dekeim, the present
Emir of Dongola, and a near relative of the Khalifa, pressed my hand,
and whispered, "Keep up your spirits; don't be downhearted; everything
will come right."
From that day my condition distinctly improved. Zenoba, the mother of
Fanny, was allowed every now and then to send me a little food. I was
also allowed to spend the day with a former head-Sheikh of the Hawara
Arabs, who was suspected of having been friendly with the Turks, and had
been thrown into chains; as our hatred for the Mahdists was mutual, we
spent most of our time in talking about them, and criticising their
rules and ordinances. Sheikh Mohammed Wad et Taka, for such was his
name, was fed by his elderly wife, who, for his sake, had remained in
Omdurman, and used to bring us meals. She may have had some good
qualities, but she was a veritable Xantippe who by her sharp tongue made
bitter every mouthful her husband swallowed. Carrying a large dish of
baked dhurra-bread and some mulakh (a sort of sauce made with milk and
other ingredients), she would place it before us, and then, sitting on
the ground beside us, she would begin the battle. "Yes, indeed," she
would say, "old women are quite good enough to cook, and do all the hard
work; but when men have their freedom, they can do as they like; and
then they always turn their eyes to the young and pretty girls." The
Sheikh had the fortune, or rather the temporary misfortune, of having
two young wives as well as this old one; but they stayed in the country
with the herds; and this fact greatly annoyed the old lady, who
exercised her ingenuity in making these sallies against her good man,
who, famished by hunger, silently consumed the food she had prepared for
him. She frequently related some piquant family details in which her
husband's conduct in relation to herself, as compared with his more
youthful helpmeets, was invariably open to severe criticism. I used to
greatly enjoy these skirmishes, and generally took upon myself the task
of mediator, telling her that when she was away, her husband had nothing
but good words for her. This used to appease her; and she would affirm
that she was doing her utmost to alleviate our condition. I thoroughly
appreciated how valuable she was to me, and how her homely meals
lessened my long hours of enforced fasting. All my efforts were
therefore directed to pacifying her husband, who, goaded by her sharp
tongue, would heap curses on her devoted head. His nature was very
changeable: when he was hungry, and saw his old wife coming along
carrying his food, no words of praise were sufficient for her; but once
satisfied, and stung to the quick by her sarcasm, he would heap insults
on her, and some such expressions as, "You who neither fear God nor man,
leave me, and let me starve. Some women, as they grow old, instead of
becoming more intelligent, gradually get silly; this is the case with
you, I think you are possessed of the devil. Get away, and never come
near me again; I never want to see you more." Then off she would go; but
the next day, when he was famished, he would long to have his old wife
back again. Not the least alarmed, she would almost invariably return
with her dish full of food; he would be pacified, eat a hearty meal, and
then the insults would begin again.
Thus the days slowly passed away. Small-pox had broken out in Omdurman,
and every day the disease swept off hundreds,--indeed, whole families
disappeared; and I believe that the loss from this disease was greater
than that suffered in many battles. Curiously enough, almost all the
nomad Arabs were attacked; and several of our own warders went down, and
not a few of them died. We prisoners, however, entirely escaped; and,
during the whole period of my imprisonment, I do not recollect having
seen one of us unfortunates attacked, though most of us were much
alarmed. Perhaps God in His mercy thought our punishment already more
than we could bear, and spared us a further visitation.
I had now many opportunities of talking to Lupton, who daily grew more
and more impatient; indeed, so furious was he at times, that I used to
get alarmed, for he would complain most bitterly, and in a loud tone, of
our miserable treatment. I did all in my power to pacify him; but the
wretched life we were living had affected him to such a degree that I
seriously feared for his health. Through constantly speaking to him, I
succeeded to some extent in quieting him; but, although scarcely thirty
years of age, the hair of his head and beard had, during our
imprisonment, grown almost white. Nature, however, had treated me more
kindly. I submitted to my fate with a better grace; and the thoroughly
practical lesson I had received from my old friend Madibbo, entirely
suited my character. I was still young; and, except for occasional
slight ailments, I was endowed with a strong and healthy constitution.
My fate was a cruel one it is true; but I felt I could gather from it
many a useful experience. I kept on hoping against hope, that, sooner or
later, I should return to the civilised world, though, when I thought
over my chances of escape, the time seemed very far away.
In order to occupy the prisoners, the saier employed them in building a
square house for their own habitation; they were therefore ordered to
fetch stones which were found near the river; and Lupton and I were the
only prisoners who were permitted to pass the day without work. Every
now and then, however, we used to accompany them to the place where
they got the stones; but my heavy ankle-irons, and my long neck-chain,
impeded my progress so much when walking, that I preferred to act as the
architect of the building, which now rapidly advanced towards
completion. The walls were very thick, and about thirty feet square,
and, in the centre, a pillar was erected which served as a support to
the crossbeams.
This house was intended for the incarceration of the most dangerous
prisoners; and the wood required for the roofing was brought from the
now ruined houses of Khartum.
It was about this time that an old friend of mine named Esh Sheikh, a
relative of Ismail Wad Shaggar el Kheiri, and who was in the Mahdi's
favour, informed me confidentially that both the Mahdi and the Khalifa
were friendly-minded towards myself and Lupton, and that in a few days
we should probably be liberated. He added that should the Khalifa speak
to me, I should not humble myself very much, but merely be careful not
to oppose anything he said; then, recommending me to God, he went away.
I instantly went off to share this good news with Lupton, who at that
time happened to be in one of his most dangerous moods; but I begged him
to believe that it was true, and to do nothing which might compromise
matters.
A few days later, it was rumoured that the Khalifa was coming. I had
carefully prepared my speech, and Lupton had done the same; but it was
more than likely he would speak to me first. At length the critical
moment came: the Khalifa, entering the prisoners' yard, instead of, as
was his usual custom, sending for the prisoners one by one, ordered an
angareb to be brought and placed in the shade; he then directed all the
prisoners to be led out, and to sit down before him in a semi-circle. He
spoke to several, set a few free who had been imprisoned by his own
personal orders, and promised others, who complained against the
sentences pronounced by the Kadi, to inquire into their cases; of Lupton
and myself, however, he appeared to have taken no notice. Lupton
glanced at me, and shook his head; but I put my finger to my lips to
warn him against doing anything foolish. "Have I anything else to do?"
asked the Khalifa of the saier who was standing behind his angareb.
"Sire! I am at your service," replied the head gaoler; and the Khalifa
sat down again. He now turned his eyes on me, and repeated the same
words he had used on the previous occasion. "Abdel Kader," said he, "are
you well?" "Sire," said I, "if you will allow me to speak, I shall tell
you of my condition." He was then sitting at his ease, and he gave me
the required permission.
"Master," I began, "I belong to a foreign tribe; I came to you seeking
protection, and you gave it to me. It is natural for man to err, and to
sin against God and against each other. I have sinned; but I now repent,
and regret all my misdeeds. I repent before God and His Prophet. Behold
me in irons before you! See! I am naked and hungry; and I lie here
patiently on the bare ground waiting for the time to come when I may
receive pardon. Master, should you think it well to let me continue in
this sad plight, then I pray God for strength to enable me to bear His
will; but now I beg of you to give me my freedom."
I had studied this speech very carefully, and had delivered it as
effectively as I could; and I saw that it had made a favourable
impression on the Khalifa. Turning then to Lupton, he said, "And you,
Abdullahi?" "I can add nothing to what Abdel Kader has said," replied
Lupton. "Pardon me, and grant me liberty."
The Khalifa now turned to me, and said, "Well, from the day you came
from Darfur, I have done everything I possibly could for you; but your
heart has been far from us: you wanted to join Gordon the infidel, and
fight against us. As you are a foreigner, I spared your life; otherwise
you would not be alive now. However, if your repentance is real and
true, I will pardon both you and Abdullahi. Saier, take off their
irons."
We were then removed by the warders, who, after long and hard work, and
by making use of ropes, at last succeeded in opening my foot-irons. We
were then again brought before the Khalifa, who was patiently sitting on
his angareb waiting for us. He ordered the saier to bring the Kuran,
which he laid on a furwa (sheepskin), and called on us to swear eternal
allegiance to him. Placing our hands on the Kuran, we swore to serve him
honestly in the future. He then rose and directed us to follow him; and
we, almost beside ourselves with delight at our release after this long
imprisonment, joyfully followed in his footsteps.
My friend the Sheikh of the Hawara was also liberated at the same time.
The Khalifa, having been assisted on to his donkey by his servants,
ordered us to walk by his side; but we could scarcely keep up with him,
for our eight months' imprisonment in chains had so cramped our legs and
feet that we found we had lost the habit of stepping out. When we
reached his house, he directed us to wait in a rekuba in one of the
outside enclosures, and left us. He returned again a few minutes later,
and, seating himself beside us, warned us most seriously to adhere to
all his orders. He then went on to say that he had received letters from
the Commander of the Army in Egypt, stating that he had seized and
imprisoned all the Mahdi's relatives in Dongola, and that he demanded in
exchange all the captives who had formerly been Christians. "We have
decided to reply," said he, "that you are now all Mohammedans, that you
are one with us, and that you are not willing to be exchanged for people
who, though the relatives of the Mahdi, are far from us in thought and
deed; and that they can do as they like with their captives; or," added
he, "perhaps you would like to go back to the Christians?" With these
words he ended his speech.
Lupton and I assured him that we should never leave him of our own
free-will; that all the pleasures of the world would never tear us from
his side; and that it was only by being constantly in his presence that
we learnt to act in such a way as would lead to our salvation.
Thoroughly taken in by our mendacity, he promised to present us to the
Mahdi, who had arranged to come to the Khalifa's house that afternoon,
and then he left us.
The rekuba being in one of the outer enclosures, into which people were
admitted, several friends who had heard of our release came to
congratulate us, amongst them Dimitri Zigada, but this time without his
usual quid of tobacco. My friend Esh Sheikh also came; and when I told
him that we were to be presented to the Mahdi, he again gave me the
benefit of his good advice, and instructed me how to behave when the
momentous occasion arrived. It was almost evening when the Khalifa came;
and, directing us to follow him, he led us to an inner enclosure, where
we saw the Mahdi sitting on an angareb. He had become so stout that I
scarcely knew him. Kneeling down, we repeatedly kissed the hand he held
out to us. He now assured us that his only wish was for our good, that
when men are placed in chains, it exercises a lasting and beneficial
influence on them; by this he meant to say that when a man is timid,
this punishment makes him avoid committing offences in the future. He
then turned the conversation to his relatives who had been captured by
the British, and about the exchange they had proposed, but which he had
refused, adding, with a hypocritical smile, "I love you better than my
own brethren; and therefore I refused to exchange." In reply, I assured
him of our love and sincerity to him, saying, "Sire, the man who does
not love you more than himself, how can his love proceed truly from his
heart." (This was a paraphrase of the Prophet's own words which my
friend the Sheikh had suggested I should repeat.) "Say that again," said
the Mahdi; and, turning to the Khalifa, he said, "Listen." When I
repeated the words, he took my hand in his and said, "You have spoken
the truth; love me more than yourself." Summoning Lupton as well, he
took his hand, and made us repeat the oath of allegiance, saying, that
as we had proved unfaithful to our first oath, it must be renewed. This
over, the Khalifa signed to us to retire; and, again kissing the Mahdi's
hand, we thanked him for his beneficence, and returned to our rekuba to
await his further instructions.
It was some time before the Khalifa returned; and when he did, he
permitted Lupton, without further ado, to join his family, who were
still located in a tent in the Beit el Mal, and, sending with him a
mulazem to show the way, assured him that he would take every care of
him. I was now alone with the Khalifa. "And you," said he, "where do you
wish to go; have you any one to take care of you?" And I felt him gazing
at me, whilst I cast my eyes to the ground, knowing that was what he
wished me to do. "Besides God and yourself," I replied, "I have no one,
sire; deal with me as you think best for my future."
"I had hoped and expected this answer from you," said the Khalifa; "from
this day you may consider yourself a member of my household. I shall
care for you, and shall never allow you to want for anything; and you
will have the benefit of being brought up under my eye, on condition
that, from this day forth, you absolutely sever your connection with all
your former friends and acquaintances, and associate only with my
relatives and servants; you must, moreover, obey implicitly every order
you receive from me. During the day, your duty will be to stay with the
mulazemin employed on my personal service at the door of my house; and
at night, when I retire, you will be permitted to go to the house which
I shall assign to you. When I go out, you must always accompany me: if I
ride, you must walk beside me, until the time comes when, should I see
fit, I will provide you with an animal to ride. Do you agree to these
conditions, and do you promise to put them into full effect?"
"Master," I replied, "I agree with pleasure to your conditions. In me,
you will find a willing and obedient servant; and I hope I may have
strength to enter upon my new duties."
"God will strengthen you," he replied, "and bring you to all good." He
then rose, and added, "Sleep here to-night; may God protect you till I
see you again to-morrow."
I was now quite alone. So I had gone from one prison to another! I fully
grasped the Khalifa's intentions: he had no real wish for my services,
for he had not the slightest confidence in me; nor did he wish to
utilise me against the Government and against the civilised world. He
merely wanted to keep me always under control; probably it flattered his
vanity to know he could point to me, his slave, once a high official of
the Government, who had commanded his own tribe, which was now the
foundation on which his power rested, and show them and the other
western tribes that I was now his humble servant. Nevertheless, said I
to myself, I shall take good care not to displease him, or give him a
chance of putting his evil purposes into effect. I thoroughly understood
my master; his smiles and friendly looks were not worth a jot, indeed
one day he had told me as much himself. "Abdel Kader," he had said to me
in the course of conversation, "a man who wants to command must neither
betray his purpose by gesture, nor by his countenance; otherwise his
enemies or his subjects will discover some means of frustrating his
designs."
The next morning, he came to me, and, summoning his brother Yakub, he
directed him to show me some spot in the neighbourhood where I might
build my huts, adding that it must be as near his house as possible. As,
however, most of the vacant spots in the vicinity had been already
occupied by the Khalifa's relatives, a piece of ground, about six
hundred yards from the Khalifa's house, and not far from Yakub's
residence, was given to me.
The Khalifa now summoned his secretary, and showed me a document
addressed to the commander of the English army, to the effect, that all
the European prisoners had, of their own free-will, become Mohammedans,
and that they had no wish to return to their countries. This document he
desired me to sign.
All my servants, horses, and baggage had been taken off by Abu Anga,
with the exception of an old lame Nubawi who, when he heard of my
release, came to see me from Fadl el Maula's house. I at once informed
the Khalifa, and obtained permission to take this man back into my
service. I also spoke to him about Abu Anga and my servants; and he
asked if the effects were going to be returned to me,--a strange
question indeed! When one's possessions have been seized by violence and
carried off, are they likely to be given back? I replied much in the
same style, that I was sure, that as now I belonged to his household, I
could well do without these little trifles, and that I thought it quite
unnecessary for him to write to his field-marshal about so trivial a
matter. What was I to do with horses, when I was not allowed to ride
them? Had not my education with the Khalifa begun by being forced to
walk barefoot!
All the same, I was really very anxious to have my old servants back
again, though I did not actually require their services very much; but I
knew, that had I attempted to claim them, I should only have aroused the
Khalifa's opposition. The latter was, therefore, greatly pleased with my
reply, and began chatting to me about Abu Anga. He then asked me,
abruptly, "Are you not a Mohammedan; where then did you leave your
wives?" This was, indeed, an ugly question. "Master," said I, "I have
only one, and I left her in Darfur; and I am told that she was arrested
with all my other servants by Said Mahmud, and is now in the Beit el Mal
at El Obeid."
"Is your wife of your own race?" asked the Khalifa, inquiringly. "No," I
replied, "she is a Darfurian; and her parents and relatives were killed
in the battle with Sultan Harun. She and several others had been
captured by my men; and I gave most of them to my servants and soldiers
to marry. This orphan alone was left; and she is now my wife."
"Have you any children?" asked he; and, when I replied in the negative,
he said, "A man without offspring is like a thorn-tree without fruit;
as you now belong to my household, I shall give you some wives, so that
you may live happily."
I thanked him for his kindness, but begged that he would postpone his
present until I had at least erected my huts; because, I remarked, this
exceptional mark of his favour must not be exposed to the public gaze.
To recompense me for my property which had been taken by Abu Anga, the
Khalifa instructed Fadl el Maula to hand over the effects of the
unfortunate Olivier Pain, which were at once sent to me. They consisted
of an old jibba, a well-worn Arab cloak, and a Kuran printed in the
French language. Fadl el Maula had sent word to me that, during the time
which had elapsed, his other effects had been lost. At the same time,
the Khalifa directed that the money which had been taken from me when I
was imprisoned, and had been deposited in the Beit el Mal, should be
returned to me. It amounted to £40, a few sequins, and a few gold
nose-rings which I had collected as curios; all these were handed back
to me by Ahmed Wad Suleiman.
I was now able to set to work to build my huts; but whilst they were
being put up I lived in the Khalifa's house. I entrusted my old servant
Saadalla, the Nubawi, who was the most competent of all my attendants,
with the construction of my residence, which was to consist for the
present of three huts and a fence. I myself, from early morning till
late at night, was always in attendance at the door of my master.
Whenever he went for a short walk or a long ride, I was always obliged
to accompany him, barefooted. During the first few days, as my feet got
cut and bruised, he allowed me to have some light Arabic sandals made,
which, though they gave me some protection against the stones, were so
hard and rough that they rubbed off all the skin. Occasionally, the
Khalifa used to call me in to eat with him, and frequently sent for what
was over of his own food to be consumed by the principal mulazemin, of
whom I was now reckoned as one. When he retired at night, I was at
liberty to return to my huts; and there, stretching my weary limbs on an
angareb, I slept till early dawn, when I was again obliged to await the
Khalifa at his door, and accompany him to morning prayers.
Meanwhile, the Khalifa had been informed that my huts were erected, and,
returning home late one night, my old servant Saadalla informed me that
a female slave, closely muffled up, had been brought to my house, and
was now installed within. Directing Saadalla to light a lantern and show
the way, I followed, and found the poor thing huddled up on a palm-mat.
When I spoke to her about her past life, she answered, in a deep voice
which did not presage well for the future, that she was a Nubawi, and
had formerly belonged to an Arab tribe in Southern Kordofan, but had
been captured, and sent to the Beit el Mal, from whence she had just
been despatched to me by Ahmed Wad Suleiman. Whilst speaking, she
removed her scented white drapery from her head, as slaves always do
when talking to their masters, and exposed her bare shoulders and part
of her bosom. I signed to Saadalla to bring the light nearer; and then I
had to summon all my presence of mind so as not to be terrified and fall
off my angareb. Out of her ugly black face, peered two little eyes; a
great flat nose, below which were two enormous blubber-shaped lips
which, when she laughed, were in danger of coming in contact with her
ears, completed one of the most unpleasant physiognomies I had ever
beheld. Her head was joined to her enormously fat body by a
bull-dog-like neck; and this creature had the audacity to call herself
Maryam (Mary). I at once directed Saadalla to remove his compatriot to
another hut, and give her an angareb.
So this was the Khalifa's first gift to me: he had not given me a horse,
a donkey, or even a little money, which would have been of some use to
me, but had presented me with a female slave, for whom, even had she
been fair, he knew well I should not have cared, as, let alone her
disagreeable presence, her food and dress were items of expense which I
by no means relished. When he saw me the next day, after morning
prayers, he asked me if Ahmed Wad Suleiman had satisfactorily carried
out his wishes. I replied, "Yes; your order was most promptly carried
out," and then gave him an exact description of my new acquisition. The
Khalifa was furious with Ahmed Wad Suleiman, who, he asserted, not only
did not comply with his order, but had made him unfaithful to the
Mahdi's ordinances. My candour in describing exactly the class of slave
given me, re-acted somewhat unpleasantly on my head; for, the following
evening, a young and somewhat less ugly girl, selected by the Khalifa
himself, was sent to me, and her also I handed over to the tender
mercies of the faithful Saadalla.
The Mahdi, his Khalifas, and their relatives, having now no longer any
fear from external enemies, began to build houses suitable to their new
positions and requirements. The numbers of young women and girls who had
been seized and distributed on the fall of Khartum were now hurried off
into the seclusion of these new residences; and their masters, no longer
disturbed by the jealous and envious looks of their friends, were able
to enjoy their pleasures undisturbed.
Naturally, the Mahdi, the Khalifas, and, more especially, the relatives
of the former were most anxious that it should not be known that the
greater part of the loot taken in Khartum was in their own hands; it was
a striking contradiction of the doctrine of the Divine master, who
forever preached renunciation and abandonment of the pleasures of life.
They set to work to enlarge their habitations and enclosures,
anticipating that they would fill them still further with the rich spoil
which was expected from the provinces that still remained to be
conquered.
But the Mahdi fell suddenly ill; for a few days he did not appear at the
mosque for prayers. No particular attention, however, was paid to his
absence at first, for he had asserted, over and over again, that the
Prophet had revealed to him that he should conquer Mecca, Medina, and
Jerusalem, and, after a long and glorious life, should expire at Kufa.
But the Mahdi was attacked by no ordinary indisposition: the fatal
typhus fever had fallen upon him; and, six days after he had sickened,
his relatives in attendance began to despair of saving his life. My
master, the Khalifa, was, of course, watching with the most intense
interest the outcome of the disease, and did not leave the Mahdi's
bedside day or night, whilst I and the other members of the body-guard
aimlessly waited for our master at his door. On the evening of the sixth
day, the multitudes collected before the Mahdi's house, and in the
mosque, were commanded to join together in prayer for the recovery of
the Divine patient, who was now in the greatest danger; and this was the
first occasion on which the malignant disease from which the Mahdi was
suffering was announced to the public. On the morning of the seventh
day, he was reported to be worse; and there was now little doubt that he
was dying. In the early stages, he had been treated by his wives and by
Sudanese quacks with the usual domestic remedies; and it was only at the
last moment that Hassan Zeki, one of the detested Egyptians, formerly
medical officer of the Khartum hospital, who, by a lucky chance, had
been saved on the day of the attack, was called in. Asked to prescribe,
he affirmed that the complaint had now reached such a stage that it was
not advisable to use any medicines, and that the only hope lay in the
resistance of his powerful constitution, which, with God's help, might
drive out this terribly malignant disease. Hassan Zeki, indisposed as he
was to render any assistance, was perfectly well aware that the Mahdi
was now beyond the reach of medicines; he also knew that if he had
prescribed, and the Mahdi had subsequently died, he would undoubtedly
have been credited with the cause of his death, and his life would have
been in the greatest danger. From all these considerations, he therefore
wisely refrained from interference.
The disease had now reached its crisis. By the Mahdi's angareb stood the
three Khalifas, his near relations, Ahmed Wad Suleiman, Mohammed Wad
Beshir (one of the principal employés of the Beit el Mal in charge of
the Mahdi's household), Osman Wad Ahmed, Said el Mekki (formerly one of
the most renowned religious Sheikhs of Kordofan), and a few of his
principal and most faithful adherents, to whom special permission had
been granted to enter the sick-room. From time to time, he lost
consciousness; and, feeling that his end was drawing near, he said, in a
low voice, to those around him, "Khalifa Abdullahi Khalifat es Sadik has
been appointed by the Prophet as my successor. He is of me and I am of
him; as you have obeyed me and have carried out my orders, so should you
deal with him. May God have mercy upon me!" Then gathering up all his
strength, with one final effort, he repeated a few times the Mohammedan
creed (La Illaha illallah, Mohammed Rasul Allah), crossed his hands over
his chest, stretched out his limbs, and passed away.
Around the body, which was not yet cold, the late Mahdi's adherents
swore fidelity to Khalifa Abdullahi, Said el Mekki being the first to
take the Khalifa's hand, own his allegiance, and praise his name. His
example was immediately followed by the two Khalifas and the remainder
of those assembled. It was impossible to keep the Mahdi's death secret;
and the crowds waiting outside were informed about it: but, at the same
time, strict injunctions were given that no weeping and lamentation
should be made; and it was further announced that the Khalifa
(successor) of the Mahdi should demand the oath of allegiance from the
entire populace. The Mahdi's principal wife, named Sittina Aisha Um el
Muminin (Our Lady Aisha, Mother of the Believers), who lay huddled up
and closely veiled in a corner, and who had been a witness of the death
of her master and husband, now arose and proceeded to the Mahdi's house,
bearing to the other wives the sad news of his death. Her office was to
comfort them, and prevent them from making loud lamentation. Most of
these good women rejoiced secretly in their hearts at the death of their
husband and master, who had brought such terrible distress upon the
land, and whom, even before he had fully enjoyed the fruits of his
success, Almighty God had summoned to appear before the Supreme Seat of
Judgment.
In spite of the strict and oft-repeated injunctions against loud
lamentation, weeping and wailing arose from almost every house on the
death of the Mahdi el Muntazer, who, it was reported, had voluntarily
departed from his earthly abode to God, his master whom he longed to
see.
Some of those now present began to wash the body, and then wrap it in
several linen cloths; whilst others dug the grave in the room in which
he had died, and which, after two hour's hard work, was finished. The
three Khalifas, together with Ahmed Wad Suleiman and Wad Beshir, now
placed the body in the grave, built it over with bricks, and then filled
it up with earth, on which they poured water. This over, lifting up
their hands, they recited the prayers for the dead; then, leaving the
room, they proceeded to pacify the impatient crowd awaiting the news
without.
We mulazemin were the first to be summoned before the new ruler, who,
henceforth, was called Khalifat el Mahdi (successor of the Mahdi); and
he gave us the oath of allegiance, directing us at the same time to move
the Mahdi's pulpit to the entrance door of the mosque, and to inform the
populace that he was about to appear before them. Informed that this had
been completed, he left his late master's grave, and, for the first
time, ascended the pulpit as ruler. He was in a state of intense
excitement. Great tears rolled down his cheeks as, with a trembling
voice, he began to address the multitude. "Friends of the Mahdi," he
shouted, "God's will cannot be changed. The Mahdi has left us, and has
entered into heaven, where everlasting joys await him. It is for us to
obey his precepts, and to support one another, just as the stones and
walls of a house go to make a building. The good things of this life are
not lasting. Seize, therefore, with both hands the good fortune which is
yours, of having been the friends and adherents of the Mahdi, and never
deviate in the slightest degree from the path which he has shown you.
You are the friends of the Mahdi, and I am his Khalifa. Swear that you
will be faithful to me."
This short address over, all those present now repeated the well-known
oath of allegiance; but the Khalifa altered the first sentence of it as
follows: "Bayana Allah wa Rasulahu wa Mahdina wa bayanaka ala
tauhidillahi, etc."
As only a certain number could take the oath of allegiance at one time,
those who had finished made way for others; and the crowd was so
enormous that many were in danger of being trodden to death. The
ceremony went on till nightfall. The Khalifa had now long since ceased
weeping, and was rejoiced to see the crowds who thronged to him to swear
him eternal allegiance. From continual talking, he had become quite
exhausted; and, descending from the pulpit, he took a draught of water
to moisten his parched throat. But the thought that he was now the
assured ruler of the enormous masses before him seemed to keep him up;
and it was only when darkness actually supervened that some of his
principal men urged him to desist, and leave the pulpit. Before doing
so, however, he summoned all the Emirs of the Black Flag, and called
upon them to take a special oath of allegiance, admonishing them to
adhere faithfully to him and to his brother Yakub, and calling their
attention to the fact that, being strangers and foreigners, they should
endeavour to live in harmony with each other as long as they were in the
valley of the Nile, for they would require union in order to
successfully oppose the intrigues of the local inhabitants; and once
again he impressed upon them the all-important necessity of adhering
most strictly to the doctrines of the Mahdi. By this time it was past
midnight; but it was out of the question to think of going home. Utterly
exhausted, I lay on the ground and heard the passers-by loud in their
praises of the late Mahdi, and assuring each other of their firm resolve
to support his successor in carrying out their late master's precepts.
Now what had the Mahdi done, and wherein lay his power to revive a
religion which had become so debased? What was the nature of his
teachings? He had preached renunciation; he had inveighed against
earthly vanities and pleasures; he had broken down both social and
official ranks; he had made rich and poor alike; he had selected as
clothing a jibba, which became the universal dress of his adherents. As
a regenerator of religion, he had united the four distinct Moslem sects:
the Malaki, the Shafai, the Hanafi, and the Hambali, which differ from
each other only in minor details,--such as the method of performing
ablution, the method of standing or kneeling down in prayers, the manner
of conducting marriage ceremonies; and, by astutely making certain much
needed reforms, he had succeeded in combining these four great
divisions. He had made a collection of certain specially selected verses
from the Kuran, which he called the Rateb, and which he enjoined should
be recited by the entire congregation after morning and afternoon
prayers,--a ceremony which lasted at least forty minutes. He had
facilitated the method of performing prayer ablutions, and had strictly
forbidden the drinking bouts which were an invariable accompaniment of
marriage ceremonies in the Sudan; he had reduced the amount of the
"Mahr" (the present usually given by the bridegroom to the bride) to ten
dollars and two dresses for unmarried girls, and to five dollars and two
dresses for widows. Whoever sought for more or gave more was considered
to have performed an act of disobedience, and was punished by
deprivation of all property. A simple meal of dates and milk took the
place of the costly marriage feast. By these innovations, the Mahdi had
sought to facilitate the ceremony of matrimony, and had strictly
enjoined on parents and guardians to see that their daughters and wards
were married early.
At the same time, he had forbidden dancing and playing, which he
classified as "earthly pleasures;" and those found disobeying this order
were punished by flogging and confiscation of all property. The use of
bad language was punished with eighty lashes for every insulting word
used, and seven days' imprisonment. The use of intoxicating drinks, such
as marissa or date wine, and smoking were most strictly prohibited.
Offences of this description were punishable by flogging, eight days'
imprisonment, and confiscation of goods. A thief suffered the severance
of his right hand; and should he be convicted of a second offence, he
lost his left foot also. As it was the general custom amongst the male
population of the Sudan, and especially amongst the nomad Arabs, to let
their hair grow, the Mahdi had directed that henceforth all heads should
be shaved. Wailing for the dead and feasts for the dead were punishable
by deprivation of property.
In order, however, that the strength of his army should not be decreased
and endangered by desertion, owing to the severe mode of life he had
prescribed, and fearful that his doctrines which were considered
unorthodox should be made known in the various foreign countries by
which he was surrounded, he practically made a cordon round the
countries he had already conquered, and absolutely prohibited passage of
persons through these districts for the purpose of performing a
pilgrimage to Mecca. Should any one cast the slightest doubt on the
Divine nature of his mission, or should there be the slightest
hesitation to comply with his orders, on the evidence of two witnesses,
the delinquent was invariably punished by the loss of the right hand and
left foot. On some occasions, witnesses were dispensed with,--a
revelation from the Prophet was even more efficacious in proving the
guilt of the offender.
As, however, most of these dispositions and ordinances were entirely at
variance with the Moslem law, he therefore issued most strict
injunctions that the study of theology and all public commentaries
thereon should cease, and ordered, moreover, that any books or
manuscripts dealing with these subjects should be instantly burnt or
thrown into the river.
Such were the teachings of the expected Mahdi; and he had left no stone
unturned to carry into the fullest effect the ordinances he had made.
Openly, he showed himself a most strict observer of his own teachings;
but, within their houses, he, his Khalifas, and their relatives entered
into the wildest excesses, drunkenness, riotous living, and debauchery
of every sort, and they satisfied to their fullest extent the vicious
passions which are so prevalent amongst the Sudanese.