TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE
Italic text is denoted by _underscores_.
Bold text is denoted by =equal signs=.
A superscript is denoted by ^x or ^{xx}. For example, C^o and L^{td}
Obvious typographical errors and punctuation errors have been
corrected after careful comparison with other occurrences within
the text and consultation of external sources.
More detail can be found at the end of the book.
THE DOWNFALL OF THE DERVISHES
[Illustration:
_Art Photogravure C^o. L^{td}._
_Lord Kitchener of Khartoum._
_From a Photograph by Bassano._]
THE DOWNFALL OF THE DERVISHES
OR
THE AVENGING OF GORDON
BEING A PERSONAL NARRATIVE OF THE
FINAL SOUDAN CAMPAIGN OF 1898
BY
ERNEST N. BENNETT, M. A.
FELLOW AND LECTURER OF HERTFORD COLLEGE, OXFORD
SPECIAL CORRESPONDENT FOR "THE WESTMINSTER GAZETTE"
WITH A PORTRAIT, MAP AND PLANS
LONDON
METHUEN & CO.
NEW YORK
NEW AMSTERDAM BOOK COMPANY
1899
TO
MY FRIEND
H. R. H.
I DEDICATE THIS LITTLE BOOK
PREFACE
In the following pages I have aimed at furnishing some account of
the interesting experiences which fell to our lot during the recent
campaign in the Sudan.
My best thanks are due to several friends for the assistance they
have rendered me, and I feel especially grateful to H.H. Prince
Christian Victor of Schleswig-Holstein and Major Stuart-Wortley,
C.M.G., for their very kind help in supplying me with much additional
and interesting information about the work of the Gunboats and the
Friendly Tribes.
I must also acknowledge the courteous permission accorded me by the
Editor of the _Westminster Gazette_ to use in the compilation of
this book some of the letters which I had previously contributed to
the columns of his newspaper.
ERNEST N. BENNETT.
HERTFORD COLLEGE, OXFORD,
_1st November 1898_.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER I
FROM CAIRO TO THE ATBARA
PAGE
Correspondents' Permits--Academic Obstacles--Fellow-Passengers
to Alexandria--French Animosity in
Egypt--Indifferentism of Egyptian Natives--An
Interesting Dinner--Preparations for the Campaign--Egyptian
Magic--A Native "Medium"--Ali buys
a Sword--Departure from Cairo--A Matrimonial
Quarrel--Rumours about the Khalifa--Discomforts
of the Night Journey--The Luxor Hotel--Malevolent
Spiders--Karnak--By Rail to Shellal--Imbecility of
Ali's Brother--Hospital Arrangements--Dreariness
of a Nile Voyage--Cheerfulness of Tommy Atkins--A
Classic Tale of Horror--Death of a Soldier--From
Wady Halfa in a Cattle Truck--Abu Ahmed--First
Night at the Atbara--Chequered Career of the _El
Tahra_--Life at Atbara Camp--The Plagues of Egypt
up to Date--Perverse Camels--Failure of our
Attempts to overtake Lancers 1
CHAPTER II
FROM THE ATBARA TO WAD HAMED
A Crowded _Ghyassa_--A Talking Mummy--Slatin Pasha--Animal
Life on the Banks--The Pyramids of Meroe--Work
for Archæologists--A Gaalin Sheikh--A
Dervish Deserter--Abu Klea--A Sandstorm--Arrival
at Wad Hamed--We meet the Sirdar--Types of the
War Correspondent--Entomology--Insect Life in the
Sudan--Desert Circulating Library--Fly-fishing in
the Nile--Military "Fatigues"--Fugitives from
Omdurman--Our Camp Life at Wad Hamed--Thirst
in the Tropics--How we Dined--Good-bye to
Wad Hamed 56
CHAPTER III
THE WEEK BEFORE THE BATTLE
Embarkation of Friendlies--The Shabluka Cataract--Our
Delay at Rojan Island--First Glimpse of Omdurman--The
Evening Ride from Hagir--The Joys of
Good Health--Sudanese Wives--Importance of the
"Drink Camel"--An Adventurous Greekling--Mr.
Villiers' Bicycle--Um Teref Camp--Sudanese Music--The
First Dervish--Scorpion v. the "Father of
Spiders"--A Cavalry Reconnaissance--A Rainy
Night--Within Twenty-five Miles of Omdurman--Deserted
Villages--A Disappointing Capture--Seg-et-Taib--The
Water Question--Corpses in the River--The
Khalifa's Army in Sight--The Ridge of Kerreri--Sururab--Gunboats
at Work--Troublesome
Donkeys--Sniping--A Tropical Downpour spoils our
Rest--Mr. Villiers and Myself stung by Scorpions--Chasing
Hares on the March--Cavalry Scouts on
Kerreri--Howitzers in Action--Skirmishing with the
Khalifa's Cavalry--Waiting for the Dervish Advance--The
Khalifa halts--The Evening before the Battle--The
Perils of a Night Attack--False Alarms 105
CHAPTER IV
THE BATTLE OF OMDURMAN
A Comfortable Breakfast--All ready for the Dervishes--Egyptian
Cavalry engage the Enemy--Gunboats to
the Rescue--The Joy of Battle--Here they come!--A
Splendid Spectacle--The Dervishes open Fire--The
First Shell--A Dervish Battery--Effect of our
Shell Fire--Wounded Men--Curious Tricks played by
Bullets--Maxims at Work--A Dervish Cavalry
Charge--Persistent Sharpshooters--The Army leaves
the Zeriba--The Lancers' Charge--Mutilation of the
Dead--Wounded Horses--Killing the Wounded
Dervishes--Renewal of the Fight--Steadiness of the
Sudanese and Egyptians--Final Repulse of the
Enemy--Dreadful Effects of our Fire--Men falling
out--We halt beside a _Khor_--Regimental Music--Escape
of the Khalifa--Death of Hon. Hubert
Howard--A Champagne Dinner in the Street--The
End of Mahdism 156
CHAPTER V
GUNBOATS AND GAALIN
The Sirdar's Fleet--Difficulties of Navigation--The Loss
of the _Zaphir_--Concentration of Friendlies at Wad
Hamed--Their Love for Firearms--Rout of a Dervish
Detachment--Gunboats shell the Kerreri Ridge and
Riverside Villages--Some Faint-hearted Friendlies--Gallantry
of the Gaalin--Tuti Island--The Shelling
of the Mahdi's Tomb--Gunboats silence the Forts--Lyddite
Shells--Maxim Fire upon the Fugitives--Gunboats
proceed up the River--The Fate of Gordon's
old Flotilla 203
CHAPTER VI
AFTER THE BATTLE
The Mahdi's Tomb--A Wounded Man lands under False
Pretences--Villiers' Bicycle in Omdurman--Loathsome
Streets--The Arsenal--Dervish Ammunition--The
"Man-stopping" Bullet--Awful Effects of Modern
Rifle Fire--The Gordon Memorial Service--Varieties
of Loot--A Tommy's Quaint Mistake--Enrolment
of Dervishes under the Khedive's Flag--Charles
Neufeld--The Austrian Sisters--Slatin Pasha in
Camp--Good-bye to Omdurman--We strike on a
Sandbank--Our Sleeping Arrangements--Failure of
Attempts to move Gunboat--A Soldier Drowned--A
Dead Egyptian--We get off the Bank--Loss of my
Luggage--Cross goes to Hospital--Delays on Homeward
Journey--Mohammedan Divorce Laws--A
Camel dies from the Bite of an Asp--A Good Dinner--From
Alexandria to Marseilles--Announcement of
Cross's Death--The Future of the Sudan 222
MAP AND PLANS
THE NILE FROM THE ATBARA TO KHARTUM _Facing page 104_
THE BATTLE OF OMDURMAN (TWO PLANS) _Facing page 202_
PLAN OF OMDURMAN AND KHARTUM TO ILLUSTRATE
THE OPERATIONS OF THE GUNBOATS AND THE
FRIENDLIES _Facing page 214_
THE DOWNFALL OF THE DERVISHES
CHAPTER I
FROM CAIRO TO THE ATBARA
Towards the end of last July I heard to my great joy, from the editor
of the _Westminster Gazette_, that a permit had been granted me to
act as his special correspondent during the forthcoming campaign in
the Sudan. Sinister rumours had been afloat for a long time to the
effect that the utmost difficulty would be experienced in securing
such permission, and several officials at the Foreign Office had
warned applicants that even in the event of a formal pass beyond Wady
Halfa being accorded, there would be no certainty that correspondents
would be allowed to proceed actually to the front. The baselessness
of these apprehensions was amply shown by subsequent events. War
correspondents in the recent campaign had little to complain of on
the score of any curtailment of their liberty of movement, though the
Sirdar's subsequent refusal to take any pressmen to Fashoda may have
provoked some unreasonable criticism.
A day or two after the receipt of the Sirdar's permit I happened to
meet at dinner an old college acquaintance, Mr. Henry Cross, who
had rowed five in the 'Varsity boat of 1888. When I told him of my
intended visit to the Sudan, he was all eagerness to join me; but as
he was utterly inexperienced in the sort of travel that would fall
to our lot before Khartum was reached, I did my best to dissuade
him from making any rash resolves of the sort on the spur of the
moment. The daily round of a war correspondent's life amid a charming
environment of scenery and climate is simply delightful, when to the
joys of an open-air existence and abundant exercise there is added
the pleasant excitement which springs from a risk of danger. Such
delights as these I had experienced during the Cretan troubles in
the spring of 1897, but from what one knew personally of tropical
travel, and what one gathered from various accounts of the Sudan,
one realised that the forthcoming campaign would be in the Lancer's
words, already become historical, "no bloomin' picnic." Accordingly
I laid before Cross graphic and horrible pictures of sandstorms and
sunstroke and the other unpleasantnesses which one might expect to
meet amid the torrid plains of the Sudan. Would that my advice had
been acted upon and his bright young life preserved! As it was,
my friend secured a permit through the editor of the _Manchester
Guardian_, and rapidly made his preparations for departure. Our last
meeting before we left Charing Cross was at Bletchley Junction,
and over some railway tea and a couple of buns we made our final
arrangements.
The great difficulty which I had to surmount before leaving England
arose from a gigantic heap of examination papers which went far
towards filling up my college rooms. The limits of time imposed by
the authorities who preside over the destinies of University and
other examinations appear sometimes to the fevered imagination of the
anxious _employé_ to be strongly flavoured with the ancient Egyptian
spirit of "bricks without straw." Under time pressure of this kind
one's ethical system becomes quite distorted. How heartily one gets
to hate the good little boys and girls who write four or five pages
of cram! With what satisfaction one surveys the work of the stripling
whose indifference or ignorance has curtailed the product of his
mental training within the more reasonable limits of a few lines, to
be marked after a single synoptic glance! However, with the aid of
several hirelings, whose unskilled labour sufficed to execute the
merely clerical portion of my task, I contrived to break the back of
this obstacle to my happiness. The penultimate batch was finished
at the Charing Cross Hotel, the final lot completed just before our
train steamed into Folkestone.
I shook off the dust of these papers from my garments, and stepped
upon the steamer's deck a free agent. Away with lectures and pupils
and essays, the solemnity of the Senior Common Room, and the
good-humoured toleration of the smart undergraduate! Farewell for
many a week to dear Oxford--with its scouts and "bedders"--porters
and proctors--bursars and battels! Just as I was leaving the walls
of the college a copy reached me from a continental professor of
his _Acta Apostolorum Apocrypha_, to which I had furnished a slight
contribution some months ago. "Pray accept this trifle," I said to a
sorrowful friend, "for your own edification during the 'Long'; I am
now going to another region rich in apocryphal acts, to wit, those of
the war correspondent."
There is no need to dwell upon the trite journey to Alexandria.
Such a subject may well be left to the pen of the tourist, who,
under the capable management of Dr. Lunn, enjoys at the same time
economic and religious satisfaction, and travels at reduced fares to
further the reunion of Christendom. The Messageries steamer which
conveyed us from Marseilles carried, as is generally the case,
scarcely any passengers, except a conglomerate mass of human beings
at the foc'sle, and very little freight. Nevertheless, thanks to the
enormous subsidy furnished by the French Government, these half-empty
steamers invariably afford good accommodation and excellent
food. On board our boat were Major Mitford and Lieutenant Winston
Churchill. The latter gentleman was going out to be attached to the
21st Lancers, and in the intervals of campaigning conversation and
graphic accounts of his recent experiences on the Indian frontier,
he supplied us with luminous information as to the principles and
practice of Tory Democracy. Another fellow-passenger with whom I
was privileged to enjoy a good deal of pleasant conversation was an
Egyptian Bey of high official rank. As we neared Alexandria, he told
me a great many interesting facts about the bombardment of 1882. He
was present during the engagement, and ridiculed the ground which was
alleged at the time for the action of our ironclads. Sir Beauchamp
Seymour had been ordered from home to "prevent the construction of
fresh fortifications at all costs," and when a number of Arabi's
levies were seen to be shovelling some spadefuls of sand upon the
wretched mounds which stretched towards Ras-el-tin, the concentrated
fire of our warships opened upon the whole line of so-called
"fortifications." The Egyptian artillerymen did their best, although
some of their heaviest guns were not fired from ignorance of their
mechanism; nor was the assistance rendered them by a host of men,
women, and even children, of much practical utility. My friend
told me he saw one of these amateur gunners endeavouring to load a
breech-loading Krupp by shoving a shell wrong way about down the
mouth of the gun! The shell, of course, stuck fast, and its base
projected from the muzzle.
We reached Alexandria by August 2nd, on which day was fought, exactly
one hundred years before, the Battle of the Nile. The words which
were used to describe this achievement, "It was not a victory, it
was a conquest," might, exactly one month afterwards, have been
well used of another British triumph before the walls of Omdurman!
But whereas the Mahdist enemy has vanished never to reappear, our
ancient adversaries, the French, are still in Egypt with all their
traditional eagerness to thwart and injure us--an eagerness which
seems to be increased, if possible, by their realisation of the
fact that their power in Egypt is gradually waning. I learnt from
an authority of the highest standing that in a list of official
appointments made from day to day there is a marked decrease in the
number of French names, and of course a corresponding increase in
English ones. It is certain, too, that the vast majority of educated
Egyptians are coming to realise clearly the injury which is inflicted
on their country by the obstinacy and perversity of the French,
whose policy is one of sheer obstruction to any measure of progress
suggested by the British advisers of the Khedive, however reasonable
its conditions and beneficial its results. The present scheme of new
irrigation works at Philae, which will bring thousands of fresh acres
under cultivation and increase the revenue enormously, has, needless
to say, received the most violent opposition from the French. How
long are we going to tolerate this absurd political farce? When will
a British Government have the courage to inform the world that we
officially recognise what is already a _fait accompli_, and intend
to remain in sole and permanent possession of a country for which we
have done so much?
Several amusing stories are told in Cairo of the animosities which
often exist between Englishmen and Frenchmen as individuals. Some
time ago, a naval lieutenant in uniform entered the Bar Splendid,
near the Esbekiyeh Gardens, and called for some refreshment. Three
Frenchmen entered simultaneously, and as the lieutenant raised the
glass to his lips his arm was jogged so roughly that half the liquor
was spilt. He turned to the three Frenchmen, but as they did not
look at him he concluded that the occurrence was a mere accident due
to his neighbours' clumsiness, but unnoticed by them. He therefore
raised his half-filled glass once more, and this time actually
saw one of the Frenchmen deliberately jog his arm. Justly furious
at this uncalled for insult, the Englishman, who was an excellent
"bruiser," laid about him with such vigour and dexterity that in a
twinkling two of his assailants were sprawling on the sanded floor
of the restaurant. He turned to the third. "No, you're too small,"
said he, and forthwith seizing the diminutive Gaul by the back of
his collar, he slid him under one of the tables, and, leaving the
trio in their undignified positions, he walked quietly out of the
café and reported the occurrence to his superior officer. Next
day, three Frenchmen, whose features were somewhat discoloured and
bedraggled, rang the bell at the lieutenant's quarters with a view
to "demand satisfaction." But on the doorstep stood the lieutenant's
servant, a huge bluejacket, who informed the visitors that a British
officer could not cross swords with persons of their inferior social
standing. As the Frenchmen were persistent and noisy, the sailor
exclaimed, "Well, it was my master's day yesterday, but, strike me
blue, it's mine to-day!" and with that he cleared for action by
rolling up his sleeves. The sight, however, of his brawny arms,
coupled with a vivid recollection of _le box_ as practised by the
British, appeared to impress the three would-be duellists, and they
speedily withdrew.
We stayed for several days at Shepheard's, where the semi-comatose
servants gradually awoke from the lethargy which overtakes them out
of the season, and did their best to make us comfortable. The general
torpor which seizes upon Cairo during the hot summer months was
broken during our stay by the incessant despatch of troops to the
front. Every afternoon detachments of infantry and cavalry marched
briskly through the streets towards the station with drums and fifes,
and "Auld Lang Syne" was played as the train steamed away. It was
curious to notice how infinitesimal was the interest which seemed
to be aroused in the passers-by. The Egyptian natives scarcely took
the trouble to glance at the columns as they marched past in full
war kit and brown kharki uniforms. A little knot of Europeans, whose
smallness served to emphasise the emptiness of the hotel, would step
out upon the verandah--where, by the way, the temperature was nearly
100° in the shade--and follow with their eyes the passing battalions;
but otherwise no interest whatever seemed to be aroused by their
departure. The fact is, that it never occurs to Egyptians of the
lower classes that they have any share or lot in what is perpetrated
by the powers that be. They are, as Aristotle expressed it, "slaves
by nature," and centuries may roll by before any other political
sentiment is instilled into this most conservative of nations than
that of fear and acquiescence. At the same time, this lack of
interest is certainly not prevalent to the same extent amongst the
educated and enlightened sections of Egyptian society. Whatever may
be the divergency of opinion _à propos_ of various questions of
internal reform, or larger problems as to the ultimate government
of the country--whatever be the diverse opinions on topics such as
these amongst the educated natives--there is a practically unanimous
approval of two enterprises now in hand--the new _Barrage_ of the
Nile, and the recovery of the Sudan.
The social life of the upper classes in Egypt is gradually yielding
to European influences. Much has been accomplished in this direction
during the space of a single generation. Egyptian gentlemen, whose
fathers wore the turban and loose native dress, now get their tweed
suits and patent leather boots from English firms. The position of
women too is steadily improving as education advances, and home
life, to the dismay of the "Old Egyptian" party, is being slowly
but steadily revolutionised in the direction of greater freedom and
independence for the ladies. Some time ago I received a most kind
invitation from an Egyptian Pasha to dine with him. I dressed and
drove off to his house, thinking, of course, that I should merely
share a _tête-à-tête_ meal with His Excellency. What was my surprise
to meet in a kind of drawing-room the Pasha's wife and three charming
daughters, who all spoke English, French, German, and Arabic with
fluency! An excellent dinner was served, towards the end of which
a strange compound made its appearance in a large tureen. I was on
the point of declining this delicacy, when it flashed upon me that
the mess of pottage must be meant for plum-pudding, and had been
prepared expressly in my honour. It was even so. As I ladled some of
the pudding into a soup plate I expressed my keen satisfaction at the
appearance of this British dish; and I think that my enthusiastic
remarks led the family to believe that the staple article of diet in
English households was plum-pudding, served at all meals all the year
round. After dinner we returned to the drawing-room, where the Misses
Pasha played admirably a variety of selections from Grieg and Brahms,
and finally, "God Save the Queen," at the close of a very pleasant
evening, which gave me a vivid impression of the advancement which
is being gradually effected in the home life of the more enlightened
Egyptians, though, of course, the liberty enjoyed by my kind hostess
and her accomplished daughters is as yet the exception rather than
the rule.
Our few days in Cairo were fully taken up with preparations for
the campaign. One consequence of the inrush of officers and
correspondents was a dearth of horses. The neighbourhood had been
ransacked for animals, and if the demand continued it seemed as
though Ammianus' prediction, slightly altered, would become true of
Cairo, "_Creditur jam equos defuturos esse_." The price of riding
horses advanced by leaps and bounds, and as the Government had been
offering from £20 to £25 for them, I thought myself lucky when I
learnt from my friend, Mr. A. V. Houghton, that he had kindly secured
me a passable steed for £17, 10s. Beasts outworn, with irregular gait
and hair in scanty tufts, were being purchased by despairing voyagers
in default of better horseflesh.
Then came the choice of servants, and many of the individuals who
offered themselves were quaint enough. Before the final selection,
batches were paraded before me from time to time, some of whom were
alleged to be bilingual, nay, even trilingual; but in most cases a
little _viva voce_ examination revealed the fact that their English
consisted of little else than half a dozen "swear words"; others
again were persons with a "past," and so unsuitable for the future.
In Egypt one can rarely put any trust in written "characters," for
such documents, either forged or secured from former servants, can be
purchased in the bazaars at so much a dozen, the price, of course,
varying according to the social status of the master whose signature
they are alleged to bear. All that a disreputable Arab in search of
employment has to do is to ask the shopman for a testimonial to the
zeal and honesty of "Ali" or "Mahmoud," according as his name is one
or the other. After one's choice had fallen upon a comparatively
blameless Ethiopian from Dongola as cook, and a Cairene Egyptian as
_säis_, the rejected candidates were dispersed by the jubilant pair
amid a babel of imprecations heaped upon each others' relatives dead
and alive. Finally, the grateful cook came to me in the evening, and
amid the laughter of my friends, solemnly presented me with a worked
cholera belt, which, he declared, his swarthy daughter had expressly
knitted for my comfort in the Sudan. With many blushes I accepted
this useful present.
Our stores were purchased from Messrs. Walker of Cairo, a veritable
firm of Egyptian Whiteleys, from whom one can buy anything, from
condensed milk to a trotting camel. It is on occasions like this that
a bachelor, unaccustomed to anything like a quantitative analysis
of the food he consumes from day to day, deplores the absence of
feminine assistance. He knows _what_ he wants but not _how much_
of it. Acting under the prejudiced advice of a chocolate-coloured
shopman, we laid in large quantities of things comparatively useless,
and neglected the weightier matters. For example, our rice gave out
after three weeks, while we had enough pepper to last us a lifetime.
We were altogether very busy in Cairo, and had little time for any
side issues. This was a pity, as my companion wished to visit the
pyramids, the mosques, and so on, while I personally wanted to
see something of the magical practices which still prevail to a
considerable extent in Cairo.
Egyptian magic was, of course, famous in antiquity. The author of
Exodus speaks of it, and, at a later date, Celsus, the able opponent
of Christianity, declared, strangely enough, that Christ worked all
His miracles by means of magic which He had learnt in Egypt! I have
heard on excellent authority that necromancy is still practised in
Cairo, and if our departure could have been delayed I should have
done my best, with the aid of some Egyptian friends, to be present
at one of these _séances_ for the evocation of the dead. Another
species of magic consists of gazing into ink in order to see pictures
prophetic of the future. This practice is, after all, simply a
form of the katoptromancy or crystal-gazing which was used for
divination in the remotest antiquity, and still yields results full
of psychological, if no longer of supernatural, interest. Scripture
appears to contain several references to the curious phenomena which
frequently exist in connection with crystal-gazing. The Hebrew
divination by Urim and Thummim, and by cups, of which we read, was
almost certainly based on this ancient practice; and at a still later
period St. Paul compares our imperfect conceptions of what lies
beyond things temporal to the perplexing images which can be "seen
through a mirror in a riddle" (δι' ἐσόπτρου ἐν αἰνίγματι).
Mr. Lane's delightful book, _The Modern Egyptians_, contains an
account of the ink-gazing which is still carried on by young boys.
I should like to add to these remarks on Egyptian magic a most
curious account which I had first-hand from an official who was high
in the favour of the late Khedive, Tewfik Pacha. During the critical
weeks which immediately preceded the bombardment of Alexandria, my
informant was suddenly summoned to an immediate audience with His
Highness. Several matters of vital importance were discussed between
the Khedive and his Minister, and the latter went home pledged to
the utmost secrecy with respect to what he had learnt. Soon after
entering his house, his wife mentioned to him that during the course
of the afternoon she had heard from another lady of a wonderful
medium, whom she had asked to call that evening. After a short time
the medium in question, an extremely old woman of the very poorest
class, arrived, and the Minister laughingly promised his wife to test
the genuineness of the visitor's gifts. When admitted to his presence
the old creature almost immediately fell down in a kind of fit, and
to his amazement he heard proceeding from her lips in strange tones,
quite unlike her normal voice, the very words spoken to himself
two hours before by the Khedive under pledge of the most stringent
secrecy!
Shortly before leaving Cairo my cook Ali appeared before me with a
huge two-handed Dervish sword, which he had purchased out of his
own money for twenty piastres. The creature had already the day
before begged me to buy him a rifle for defensive purposes, as I was
quite unable to eradicate from his mind the belief that his kitchen
utensils and himself might at any moment during the next six weeks
be exposed to an attack from a frenzied rush of Dervishes. I could
not see my way to gratify his wishes in this respect. To have a cook
bending over the fire with a belt full of cartridges, or walking
round one's tent with a loaded rifle--these were indeed added terrors
to the perils of a Sudan campaign. He was, however, permitted to wear
the gigantic sword, as I thought it might come in handy for cutting
wood or opening tins of meat.
We were not sorry to get out of Cairo. The moist heat which prevailed
in the town clogged all the pores of the skin and was extremely
trying. Just before we left, a detachment of the Grenadier Guards
entrained for the front. These fine fellows were marched from
Abbasseeyeh to the station--no great distance--in the hottest part
of the day, between twelve o'clock and two. When they reached the
station the perspiration was streaming from their faces, and they
were kept at "attention" to prevent them from drinking water in
this condition. But the heat had already begun to tell in several
cases; three men fell prostrate, and quite a number were attacked by
violent sickness. The drainage, too, of the city was in a deplorable
condition. The old native system had been recently abolished, and
during the period of transition sanitation was in a state of chaos.
Which things are an allegory! In consequence probably of the escape
of sewage into water-pipes, enteric fever and diphtheria were far
from infrequent, and quite recently two young officers of the 21st
Lancers had succumbed to these fatal diseases.
When we arrived at the railway station in the evening _en route_ for
the South, we found our servants already there. But how transformed!
Ali and the _säis_ had exchanged their native cotton garments
for brand new suits of yellow kharki, purchased at my expense.
From some association of ideas in connection with the forthcoming
campaign, they were "got up" in a pseudo-military fashion, with
brass buttons and shoulder straps. As Ali the cook stood before us
in his ill-fitting garments, with an enormous crusading sword in one
hand and a kitchen colander and soup ladle in the other,--a kind of
walking allegory of Peace and War,--we laughed so much that we could
scarcely ask for our tickets. At the last moment a native rushed into
the station closely pursued by his wife. The man was evidently bent
on securing a seat in the train, but his better half disapproved of
this, and as he was getting into the carriage she suddenly struck a
violent blow at his hand luggage. It was a most effective stroke.
The bundle he carried exploded like a shell, and its contents lay
scattered in hopeless confusion over the platform. Long before the
baffled husband could collect the _disjecta membra_ of his travelling
kit, the train steamed off into the darkness, and he was left to
settle matters with his triumphant wife.
We rapidly left Cairo behind us, and with it the joys and comforts
of civilisation. It was a positive relief to feel that we had now
commenced in real earnest to travel the twelve hundred miles which
separated us from our final goal far away in the Sudan. Still, at the
time of our departure from Cairo, no certainty was felt that there
would be any fighting at all. Rumours were persistently current that
the Khalifa and his forces had retreated from Omdurman. It would, as
somebody said, be simply a case of _cherchez la femme_. If the women
and children became panic-stricken and retired, it was certain that
the Dervishes would lose heart and make a poor show of resistance.
Take, for instance, the case of Berber. Here a vigorous defence
might reasonably have been expected, but it was afterwards found that
an exodus of the women brought about the total evacuation of the
town, which our advancing forces thus occupied without any fighting
whatever. Still it was too early to speculate on the amount of
opposition our troops were likely to encounter. Whether there would
be one or more sharp struggles before we found ourselves face to
face with the ramparts of Omdurman; whether even then those ramparts
would be held by Dervishes driven to bay and fighting with their old
desperate courage, or we should bivouac in a deserted city--all these
things, we felt, lay verily on the knees of the gods!
Our first taste of discomfort was provided by the night journey to
Luxor. Soon after leaving Cairo the motion of the train raises an
almost continuous cloud of dust, which penetrates into the carriages,
scheme one never so wisely. One may put the glass windows up or
merely raise the wooden venetians according as one prefers the
alternative of being almost asphyxiated by too little air or stifled
by too much dust. Even with the windows up the dust insinuates
itself into the compartment somehow; and if one can sleep through the
night one finds next morning a thick layer of dust over everything,
and reflects with astonishment and dismay on the condition of one's
lungs and internal economy in general. The train was not a "troop
train" in the special sense, but it contained a good many officers.
It is worth noticing, by the way, that Egyptian officers, even of
high military rank, travel second class with British sergeant-majors
and warrant officers. As no horse boxes would be available for the
conveyance of our animals for two days, we were compelled to stay a
couple of nights at the Luxor Hotel. The dreariness of this hotel out
of the season was still more marked than at Shepheard's. Outside,
all blistered by the heat, hung the quaint notice, as a warning to
that species of knicker-bockered tourist who shoots gulls from the
Clacton cliffs, "_Il est défendu de chasser dans le jardin_." The
servants shuffled listlessly about, the long corridors were covered
with dust, and forlorn notices about church services which were no
longer served, and trained nurses who had vanished, were almost the
only outward and visible signs of the past season, with its crowded
_table d'hôte_, the vulgar chatter of American globe-trotters, and
the irritating atmosphere of valetudinarianism.
At the hotel we met two hard-worked transport officers, Captain Hall
and Lieutenant Delavoy, busied night and day with the incessant
despatch of stores and ammunition to the front. People are often
apt to forget to what an extent the success of a campaign is due to
the honest work of the Army Service Corps and transport officials.
Upon these departmental troops fell the onerous labour of forwarding
for many weeks all the stores required for the feeding of some
twenty-three thousand men and several thousand animals.
Our recent campaigns in the Sudan have been unique in military
history from the fact that the army's line of communication with
its base was ultimately over twelve hundred miles in length. Every
ounce of food, with the exception of a little fresh meat occasionally
obtained along the line of march, had to be conveyed from Cairo by
river, rail, or camel. The best thanks of the public are due to the
indefatigable labours of the transport officers and men, many of whom
were not brought by their work within the area which will be covered
by the forthcoming medal.
As we sat at dinner in the cool of the evening under the palms
and tamarisks, somebody chanced to look under the table and saw a
number of large yellowish tarantulas waltzing about our feet. A
panic ensued, and the meeting rose as one man and got upon chairs,
until these repulsive insects were driven away by the waiters. The
incident forcibly recalled the famous congress of ladies which was
convened to demonstrate the Superiority of Woman over Man, and was
broken up by a small box of mice opened by a son of Belial in the
audience. These horrid spiders, whose bite is very painful, and,
in the case of young children, occasionally fatal, seemed to be
ubiquitous at Luxor; nor did they even respect the sanctity of our
bedrooms. Medical psychologists tell of a case in which a gentleman
suffering from hallucinations declared that he saw "pink pachyderms"
in his bath, but was unable to secure a specimen owing to the
rapidity of the creature's movements. But I had much rather see a
pink pachyderm--which may after all be merely subjective--inside my
tub than a brace of tortoiseshell tarantulas, whose objectivity is
undoubted, racing round and round the bath and cutting off one's
retreat.
We took the opportunity afforded us by our enforced wait at Luxor to
visit the temples. No tickets were demanded, no touts clamoured at
one's heels and interfered with one's reflections. We rode to Karnak
in the moonlight, and after dismounting we were suddenly mobbed by
scores of dogs, who came rushing upon us from the Bedawin houses
near the ruins. The animals became so menacing and approached so
close that I was compelled to use my revolver. The pariah doggie in
Egypt does not seem to be quite like his Constantinople cousin, who
is probably descended partly from the jackals who accompanied the
Turkish armies from their Asiatic settlements. The puppies of these
pariah dogs are, by the way, the dearest little creatures in the
world, with rough woolly coats like tiny bears.
There is absolutely nothing in the world to compare with the
temple of Karnak in point of magnificence and grandeur. When one
gazes on the colossal pillars, the huge pylons, and the rows and
rows of sculptured sphinxes, it would be alike difficult and
painful to believe that all this mighty effort, this outcome of
the blood and sweat of thousands, could after all be based on a
mere delusion and groundless enthusiasm. On the contrary, one may
wonder whether the full force of the religious motive which raised
these giant structures has not been to some extent lost in later
ages. At anyrate, it seems certain that in the West our religious
consciousness has never been marked by that intense appreciation of
God's omnipotence which underlay the creation of such stupendous
monuments. On the contrary, there seems to be a tendency in modern
Christianity to anthropomorphise the Deity into the official Head of
a scheme of charity organisation, to which the belief in a future
life, so powerful a factor in the ancient religion of Egypt, is
attached as a subsequent phase of subsidiary importance. As the race
grows less and less disposed to endure physical pain and discomfort,
we clamour more and more for tangible and material blessings, and
refuse to be comforted by any contemplation of the problematic
joys of another world. There is something to be said for this point
of view, and much evil has undoubtedly been done by the reckless
bestowal on suffering humanity of "cheques to be cashed on the other
side of Jordan." Still, if this process continues, it is difficult
to realise how, in the conduct of future generations, any place can
be found for a religious and supernatural, as distinct from a merely
ethical, obligation.
The railway journey from Luxor to Shellal, a village on the river
bank just above the first cataract, where the railway terminates,
ought to have taken about eight hours, but it took over sixteen.
All the trains have third-class carriages or rather trucks, and an
excellent object lesson in Oriental procrastination was afforded at
the moment when the train started. All night long crowds of natives
had been sleeping on the ground just outside the station with all
their curious goods and chattels--beds and bundles and babies--around
them. Scarcely one of them made the slightest effort to get on board
the train until the whistle went, and then a terrific scramble
took place. "Gyppies" of all sizes, sexes, and ages rushed wildly
down the line, trying to hurl their baggage into the carriages
and then climb up after it. This went on for some three hundred
yards, and despite the increasing speed of the train most of these
procrastinating creatures contrived to find some sort of place on
it. If they failed, they simply went to sleep again till the day
following, when they tried again.
The traffic on this line was enormous, and the rolling stock
available could scarcely bear the unusual strain put upon it. We were
repeatedly stopped on the way by a variety of accidents. First of all
a carriage got off the rails; then an axle became red hot from lack
of grease, and set fire to the woodwork; and finally a train in front
of us left the metals, and a long interval elapsed while two lengths
of rail were taken up and straightened. The line has, from motives
of false economy, been laid in a miserably inefficient manner, and
an official casually informed me that trains ran off the rails about
three times a week. One of the most difficult things to deal with
was the transport of horses and mules. Sometimes one saw a loose box
filled with sixteen mules all kicking together, and on the steamers
accidents continually happened amongst the crowded horses.
As we ran past Assouan down to the water's edge at Shellal, the
graceful temple of Philae in midstream was flooded with an orange
glow from the setting sun. Along the bank a forest of slender masts
and lateen sails stood out against the sky. Across the river the
strange rocks, bared of all earth and vegetation and polished smooth
by the flying sand, have assumed the oddest shapes, and look for all
the world like the primeval work of some Titanic infant at play.
The sight of a luggage van at a terminus was enough to drive any
inexperienced voyager to utter despair. When we arrived at Shellal
the moon had not yet risen, and the feeble light of a few lanterns
was all we had wherewith to disentangle our separate lots of luggage
and stores from the general _mélange_. The chaos of luggage was
fearful. Under the weight of two of our store cases an officer's
sword had been bent almost into the prophetic pruning hook, and a
band-box belonging to our one lady passenger had, with all that it
contained, been squashed absolutely flat. Everybody had to see after
his own possessions or he was lost. Later on, as the boat steamed off
from Shellal, an officer who had entrusted the embarkation of his
horse to his _säis_ was horrified to see the man calmly sitting on
the bank smoking a cigarette with the horse beside him.
During our stay at Shellal we slept in the garden of a shabby
one-storeyed house, dignified with the title of the "Spiro Hotel."
This was run by one of those ubiquitous Greeks who invariably turn
up in the East where there is any chance of making money. All along
the line of advance to Omdurman we were accompanied by Greeks, who
trafficked in bread, fresh meat, and the like. Like the Irishman
and the Jew, the Greek seems to flourish the more the further he is
removed from his native country.
By this time our horses had caused us such signal inconvenience,
and it was becoming so difficult amid the congested traffic to find
room for them, that Cross and I determined to do without our mounts.
Accordingly, we sold one to an officer at a slight profit, and sent
the other back to Cairo. If British officers could march on foot to
Khartum from the point where rail and river failed us, why shouldn't
we? If one is taking part in a campaign where there is a probability
of a reverse, a sound horse may be useful; but one felt on the
present occasion that, if any running away was to be done, it would
not fall to our lot.
At Shellal a brother of Ali's, called Mahmoud, suddenly turned up
from some quarter or other, and we annexed him at a moderate rate
of pay. His was the most unskilled labour I have ever witnessed. He
generally drove the tent pegs into the ground sloping inwards, and
with the notches inside instead of out! When he loaded a camel, he
would place a Gladstone bag on one side and a heavy box of stores on
the other, and then looked quite surprised when the camel rose and
the whole structure fell with a crash to the ground. At times like
these his imbecile features would be illumined with a fearful smile,
and if we rebuked his folly and menaced him with punishment, his grin
became broader and broader. When on one occasion I smote him with a
thorn stick, his mirth became so uproarious that we abandoned all
hope of his reformation, and merely gave Ali orders that in future
his brother's activities were to be strictly confined to the hewing
of wood and drawing of water.
A large base hospital, with two hundred beds, had been established at
Assouan, and throughout the line of advance strenuous efforts were
being made to cope with any demands upon the medical service. It is
generally admitted that at the Atbara fight the medical arrangements
were not as complete as they might have been, and considerable
confusion is said to have been produced by the inadequacy of the
accommodation for the wounded. This time, however, Surgeon-General
Taylor had arrived on the scene, and throughout the campaign there
was no cause for complaint. In addition to base hospitals at Assouan,
Atbara, Rojan Island, and elsewhere, each brigade had no less than
five field hospitals attached to it. The National Aid Society
proffered its assistance, undertaking to send its own transport; but
the Sirdar refused the offer, with the idea probably that an army in
the field ought to supply its own medical requirements. Some of the
officials of the Society were, I heard, incensed at this refusal;
for they alleged, with some reason, that during a campaign nobody
"goes sick" unless he is practically too ill to move about, and
that the voluntary assistance rendered by the Society may be of
the greatest service to a large number of devoted men who, despite
their sufferings, are too keen and patriotic to enrol themselves
on the sick-list--the only means of securing treatment from the
Army Medical Corps. Just before we embarked, a batch of invalided
men passed northwards on their way to Cyprus, where the climate is
comparatively cool in August. Sunstroke was beginning to claim its
victims; a sergeant and a private of the Northumberland Fusiliers had
already succumbed to the heat, which, amid the rocks of Philæ, was
driving the quicksilver up to 110° in the shade. The Nile was still
rising perceptibly day by day, and in one spot I saw hundreds of tons
of Government stores--reserve supplies for ten thousand men--which
would have to be moved, as the waters gave promise of reaching an
abnormal height this year. Scores of natives found employment about
the landing-stage as porters, and were perpetually fighting over the
division of the luggage and the _bakshish_. I noticed four of these
men, during a frantic struggle on the river bank, collapse into the
water, where they still continued their combat of words and blows,
even when occasionally submerged--
Quamquam sunt sub aqua sub aqua maledicere tentant.
We journeyed towards Wady Halfa in the old stern-wheeler _Ibis_,
which was crowded with officers of the Lancashire Fusiliers, and
as it towed a large barge on either side full of the rank and file
of the 2nd Battalion, we made slow progress. There is but little
incident to chronicle on a Nile voyage, and it is difficult to
understand why, even in winter, people select the Nile as the river
_par excellence_ for steamboat tours. The eye falls continually
upon bleak hills and dreary sand plains on either bank, relieved
only by occasional patches of _dhurra_ and date palms, while the
monotony which hangs like a pall over everything Egyptian--landscape,
architecture, sculpture--becomes in time most oppressive and
wearisome. The fact is, that were it not for the social pleasures
one may, or may not, derive from several weeks' sojourn on one of
Cook's steamers, nobody except a few souls really interested in the
antiquities of Upper Egypt would undertake this voyage.
The Tommy Atkinses were packed like sardines on the barges, but
seemed to be in excellent spirits throughout the voyage. They
continually talked about the coming battle, and were as keen as
possible to get a sight of the Dervishes. All this arose, of course,
from sheer love of adventure and fighting, for the campaign could
scarcely be regarded as undertaken in defence of "our hearth and
home," and was only indirectly waged for the sake of our country. As
we advanced up the river the soldiers grew more musical day by day.
Local lyrics from the North alternated with Moody and Sankey hymns,
and occasionally some very fair attempts at harmony helped to beguile
the tedium and discomfort of the voyage. In one respect the result of
the "territorial system" in our British regiments is not altogether
good. Numerous little _coteries_ exist amongst the men enlisted from
the same families and districts, and the result is that the bonds of
discipline between non-commissioned officers and privates tend to
become relaxed. I noticed, for instance, to my surprise, that some of
the sergeants were sitting down on the deck playing cards with the
men--a species of _camaraderie_ which is certainly not desirable.
A few hours before we reached Assouan the ruins of Kumombo had come
in sight. This town, the ancient Ombi, was once, if we may trust an
unknown imitator of Juvenal, the scene of a strange and horrible
fight between the residents and some malevolent visitors from
Denderah, a hundred miles farther down the river. The cause of the
encounter has quite a modern flavour about it--each town imagined it
had secured the sole and exclusive means of Salvation--
Inde furor vulgo quod numina vicinorum
Odit uterque locus, cum solos credat habendos
Esse deos quos ipse colit.
The pious citizens of Ombi worshipped the crocodile. At Tentyra
this ugly beast appeared on the dinner-table, and was devoured with
all the added relish which would arise from cooking and eating the
deity of a hostile sect. The Tentyrites, in fact, specialised in
crocodiles. Plunging into the river they climbed upon the saurians'
backs--so Pliny tells us,--and when the crocodile opened his jaws
they neatly placed a cudgel across his back teeth, and so steered
their captive to the shore. After landing they stood round in a
circle and swore roundly at the crocodile, and this scolding so
alarmed the timid monster that it "threw up" all the bodies it had
eaten, which thus secured a respectable funeral.
Our four days' journey by river from Wady Halfa was only twice
broken, once by an hour's halt at Korosko to send off telegrams and
take on board some chickens and fresh limes. The other halt was a sad
one. A young private of the Fusiliers, after a brief illness, died
of internal hæmorrhage, caused, possibly, by lifting heavy luggage.
There were, of course, no hospital arrangements on board the crowded
barges, but his comrades placed the sick man in as cool a spot as
could be found, and tended him as well as they could. But the case
was hopeless, and on 11th August the poor fellow died. The steamer
drew up beside the bank, and a section of the dead man's company
speedily dug a grave in the dry sand. The colonel read the burial
service, and after a little heap of stones had been piled above the
grave, soon to be obliterated by the drifting sand of the desert,
we steamed on our way southwards. Amid the excitement of battle and
sudden death, one looks with something akin to indifference as men
are struck down by shell-splinter and bullet--it is all part of
the day's work, and all must take their chance. But amid quieter
surroundings the feelings have freer play, and we all felt, I think,
that there was a peculiar element of sadness about this young
soldier's death. As the end approached he lay half conscious in a
corner of the deck, unmindful of all that passed around him--the
swirl and rush of the torrent, and the ceaseless chatter of his
comrades.
His eyes
Were with his heart, and that was far away--
away, perhaps, in the far-off Lancashire village where his boyhood
was spent and his friends awaited his return.
On 12th August universal dismay was caused on board by the news
that our supply of ice had given out. The Arab _restaurateur_ was
promptly kicked for his gross negligence, but this did little
good. The weather was stifling hot, and unless we wished to drink
lukewarm soda water some means had to be devised. The best thing
to do if one cannot secure ice in the Sudan is to put one's bottles
into a canvas bucket, full of water. The sides are slightly porous
and the consequent evaporation brings down the temperature of the
contents. Otherwise, merely placing the bottles in straw cases, and
then immersing them up to the neck in water, serves to keep the
drink fairly cool. The _restaurateur_, who charged us no less than
eight shillings a day for food, really deserved the kicking which
he received, for ever since the commencement of the voyage he had
consistently dropped one course a day from the dinner, so that if
the journey had been prolonged much further, our dinner promised to
become a negative quantity.
We were not sorry to leave the _Ibis_ at Wady Halfa, and the
Tommies must have been delighted to get, even for an hour or so,
an opportunity of stretching their limbs. The train, consisting of
a number of horse boxes and open trucks, stood waiting for us, and
after a brief delay we steamed off for our thirty-six hours' run
across the open desert to the Atbara. Cross, Major Stuart-Wortley,
and I found ourselves ensconced in a covered cattle-truck, half full
of baggage; but we got our beds out, and speedily made ourselves as
comfortable as possible under the circumstances. In the middle of
the truck stood a big "zia," and we managed to have this filled with
decent water before we left--a sensible precaution, as only two wells
exist along these three hundred and fifty miles of desert railway;
and when three men have to cook and "wash up" and cool their drinks,
not to mention a succession of personal ablutions, the possession
of a big "zia" full of good water is a great alleviation of the
cattle-truck's discomforts.
In the old days of vacillation and weakness, which ended in the
surrender of the Sudan, and thus spread untold miseries over
thousands and thousands of square miles, the selection of Wady
Halfa as the frontier of Egypt was made in defiance of the best
expert opinion on the subject. But if the advice of, at anyrate,
one of the experts consulted by the Conservative Government of the
day had reached England a little earlier, it seems very probable
that El Debbeh, the obvious and natural frontier post under the
circumstances of the time, would have been chosen instead of a spot
two hundred and fifty miles farther north. The advice in question
was, I believe, given to Lord Salisbury on a Monday; but as the fate
of the Government was already sealed, and it was known that the
Thursday following would see the Ministry out of office, there was
no time to effect the proposed change, and Wady Halfa was thus left
as the temporary frontier town of the Khedive's loyal provinces, and
an enormous tract of country, which would have been protected by a
garrison at El Debbeh, was left to Dervish control and devastation.
As we neared the end of our journey the train again skirted the Nile,
and whenever we halted crowds of natives grouped themselves along the
line, either to sell eggs and dates or simply to stare. The railway
is still a source of never-ending wonderment. The simple unmechanical
minds of these Arabs seem to regard an engine as a being endowed with
life and will-power; and quite recently a village sheikh near Berber
protested to a railway official against the cruelty of forcing a
small engine to draw a long line of heavily laden trucks. All these
people are really ex-Dervishes, and I noticed a fair number of the
genuine "fuzzy-wuzzies" amongst them. One of their sheikhs came up
and informed us that when we got to Omdurman the Khalifa would fight
like _Sheitan_ (the devil). These natives appeared to vastly enjoy
the blessings of peace. How vividly impressed they must have been by
the constant succession of trains passing across the desert, laden
with fighting men and countless tons of stores, visible evidences of
the power and wealth of the conquering _Inglizi_!
As we approached Abu Hamed, the scene of the sharp, brief fight last
year, we noticed some object roll along the side of the line; and
when the train pulled up we learnt that a non-commissioned officer
had fallen off one of the carriages. In a few minutes the missing
Fusilier picked us up, walking along quite coolly without having
sustained a scratch. On a subsequent journey another poor fellow was
not so lucky, for he fell off in the same way, and was instantly cut
to pieces by the wheels.
The sun was setting as we neared Berber, and in the distance across
the river the outlines of "Slatin's Hill" stood sharply out against
the sky. This was the spot where the fugitive took shelter at a
critical moment when pursuit seemed close upon his heels and
capture imminent. On our own side of the stream the train ran slowly
through the scattered suburbs of Berber, and one realised how, as on
every occasion during the Khalifa's attempts to oppose our advance,
the Dervishes had blundered, by selecting Abu Hamed for the fight
instead of Berber. At the latter place there were fully five miles
of detached mud-huts extending inland from the river. Not a particle
of cover would have been available for an attacking force, and the
expulsion of a resolute body of Dervishes from the shelter of these
mud walls would have cost us dear.
When the train finally crawled into the vast area covered by the
Atbara camp, it was quite dark, and, amid the confusion, Cross and
I, with two officers, thought it best to sleep as we were on the
ground beside the railway. However, as bad luck would have it, a
heavy shower of rain descended upon our devoted selves just as we
had fallen off to sleep, and the downpour was followed by a strong
wind from the river, which covered our quaternion with a thick layer
of sand and dust. A more unpleasant night it would be difficult to
imagine, as, beside the dust and wet, it was extremely difficult to
breathe amid the clouds of sand. At last I could stand the discomfort
no longer, and, jumping up, I seized my bed and bolted for an
enclosure hard by. Here my onset was suddenly barred by the bayonet
of a sentry, who brought his rifle down to the "charge"; but a little
explanation secured a passage for myself and my half-soaked bed, and
I found an empty tent, to which my three companions came running like
rabbits.
We enjoyed a few hours' sleep before dawn, and then reported
ourselves to Colonel Wingate and General Rundle, the commandant. We
learnt from the former that the 21st Lancers and some gunners had
crossed the river that day with the intention of making their way
by land to the proposed camp just north of Shabluka. As these were
the last troops who would ascend the left bank of the river, it was
imperative that the two camels which we had purchased for our stores
should proceed at once by the same route; and as this route promised
to be an interesting one, Cross and I determined to accompany our
beasts of burden on foot in the absence of our horses. Accordingly
we secured an order for the transport across the river of ourselves,
our servants, camels, and stores in the old paddle-boat _El Tahra_.
This ancient tub had a rather peculiar history. She had fifteen years
ago formed one of the Government flotilla on the upper Nile. When the
evacuation of the Sudan took place an Egyptian battery fired half a
dozen shells into her and sank her at Rafia to prevent the Dervishes
from making use of her. The _El Tahra_, however, was destined for
something better than this inglorious fate, and she was raised,
patched up, and throughout the recent campaign performed much useful
service. Amongst her more notable achievements was the embarkation of
the officers and crew of the ill-fated _Zaphir_ after they were left
stranded on the bank without an ounce of baggage. The scars inflicted
by her former masters were quite visible, as the big holes torn by
the shells had been neatly covered with iron plating.
Orientals are wonderfully good at renovating old vessels. A few years
ago I crossed from Galata to Scutari in a vessel which twenty years
ago had been condemned as unseaworthy by our Board of Trade. She
was then bought for a mere song by a Turkish company, which began to
patch her up. In the middle of this process the venerable craft broke
her back and fell in two; but the Orientals were not discouraged.
They set to work again and put the fragments together, and the result
of their zeal and patience has now been steaming to and fro between
Europe and Asia amongst the choppy waters of the Sea of Marmora for
several years.
The prospect of speedily leaving the Atbara camp behind us was a
pleasant one. The place was absolutely detestable; no one had a good
word for it. The air was full of flying clouds of dust raised by an
interminable succession of blasts from the river. Often before one
could get a cup of coffee to one's lips it was coated with a layer of
dust. In order to keep the eyes from being inflamed one was driven to
wear huge goggles or a gossamer veil over the face.
In addition to the moral training which is alleged to result from
all forms of worry and vexation, our discomforts during the campaign
frequently possessed an exegetical value. One realised more forcibly
than hitherto the meaning of some of the "Plagues of Egypt." Nile
boils are only too well known amongst the hapless officials who dwell
along the banks of the river. Again, as the ancient narrative speaks
of the dust as the vehicle of malignant forms of insect life, so now
bacilli are spread broadcast by this means. When we woke up in the
morning and shook an inch of dust from our blankets, we were lucky
not to find in addition that our mouths and throats were ulcerated;
and men suffering from enteric fever and other internal inflammations
found their recovery retarded, and often, I am afraid, prevented,
by the penetrating dust which they were compelled to swallow and
breathe, however fast tents were tied up or windows fastened.
Another abomination was the plague of flies. At meals one made a
sweep to get rid of these beasties and then a rush to convey the
food to one's lips; but even in this brief space a couple of flies
often found time to get their beaks into the morsel and so perished
miserably. Tobacco was useless against these Sudanese flies; they
seemed to enjoy the fumes. The only way to circumvent them was to
sacrifice a little jam on a bit of bread and put it aside to attract
the vermin. In a twinkling bread and jam had become invisible.
Nothing was to be seen but a thick bunch of greedy flies jostling
each other like people at an "early door."
On 16th August, owing to a series of those vexatious delays which
are inseparable from Eastern travel, we did not get our two camels
to the water's edge until nearly six o'clock, and even then the
perverse beasts absolutely refused to get into the barge which was to
convey them to the other side. At length we tied their legs together,
and then dragged and shoved them over the plank by main force. How
utterly one loathes a camel sometimes! Its disposition is morose and
malignant even from its birth; it is full of original sin, and any
affection lavished upon it is quite wasted. In a word, the camel is a
hopelessly depraved beast--
Monstrum nulla virtute redemptum.
The other day I came across a magazine article by a writer who
claimed to know all about camels, and he spoke sympathetically of
the "soft, purring sound" which issued from the animal's lips. What
an amazing euphemism for the horrid guttural snorts with which the
peevish brute protests against any attempt to control its movements
or put a load upon its back. There is no chivalry in the camel's
breast. It will bite a pound of flesh out of you as you lie asleep,
or if you are riding will suddenly turn round as you are admiring the
scenery and nibble your legs.
At length the obstinate creatures were ferried over the river, but
before they were loaded and ready to start it was already dark. On
the bank I met Howard for the first time since his Balliol days, and
he most kindly offered to lend me his second horse if I cared to ride
after the Lancers; but as Cross had no horse I decided to stay with
him.
As Cross, Howard, and myself stood there in the brief twilight, how
little we dreamt that I alone of the trio should live to return from
the campaign! No thought of coming disaster overshadowed us as we
laughed and chatted together. It is not always so. I have personally
known three cases in which brave men, accustomed to the perils of
battle, suddenly experienced a vivid presentiment that they would be
struck down in the approaching fight, and in each case a bullet found
its mark in their bodies.
Howard rode off, and then Cross and I set out to overtake the column
already encamped thirteen miles away. The general lie of the ground I
knew. If we followed the telegraph lines we should reach the village
of Abu Selim, and thence a sharp turn to the left would bring us to
the Lancers' camp beside the Nile. Starting as we did at seven, we
hoped to reach our goal by midnight, and then a few hours' sleep
would have intervened before a fresh move forward at four next
morning. But the scheme fell through. None of the servants knew the
way in the dark; there was no moon, and the starlight was not strong
enough to show the telegraph posts. We struggled on in the uneven
scrub, pushing through mimosa thorns and falling over logs of palm
wood, while our servants struck matches to look for the hoof-marks of
the cavalry. After two hours of this wearisome work we had advanced
less than three miles, and we saw that the enterprise was hopeless.
We sat down on a stump and reviewed the situation. Neither of us
had been overfed that day. Cross had had some cocoa at dawn, a cup
of bovril at midday, and tea and bread at four o'clock. My own diet
had been the same as his, minus the afternoon meal. I have a great
belief, personally, in the hygienic value of temporary starvation,
but as we sat there in the dark, Cross paid scant attention to my
eulogies upon the utility of emptiness, and very wisely voted for
our immediate return to the starting-place. I did not like to give
up our scheme, but there was not much in the way of alternative,
so after a noisy palaver with our servants, reinforced by three
suspicious-looking Arabs, who emerged from the bush, we finally sent
one camel and two servants along the bank, and after another two
hours' floundering through the scrub, found ourselves again opposite
the junction of the Atbara and Nile. We felt that the stores would
probably pick up the column sooner or later, but as for ourselves,
it would be foolish to be wandering about the west bank, nearer the
Dervish country, without military escort. Woe betide any stragglers
who chanced to fall into the hands of the Dervishes at present! The
best thing to do would be to empty five chambers of one's revolver
and keep the sixth for one's self!
One of the suspicious-looking Arabs walked back with us and showed us
a dear little hut made of wattled branches, which would shelter us
for the night. Our guide turned out to be a native who had suffered
at the hands of the cruel Mahmoud just before that scoundrel was
defeated and captured at the battle of the Atbara in the spring. He
bared his arm and showed us a hideous wound, now healed over, where a
Dervish spear had cut through his flesh from shoulder to elbow. The
poor man had lost his wife and child--slain, both of them, by the
savage Baggaras. This incident, one among thousands of the same kind,
may give one some idea of the cruel sufferings to which whole tribes
were abandoned by our cowardly evacuation of the Sudan. We had put
our hand to the plough, and then drew back.
We had a good square meal, washed down by a bottle of claret, the
solitary survivor of four. Its three companions had fallen from the
camel's back, and lay shattered on the ground, with their life-juice
ebbing fast. That night I dreamt that I was shooting rabbits amongst
bracken in Essex, and suddenly awoke, to find myself covered with a
quantity of vegetable matter. Everyone has experienced the curious
feeling of hopeless bewilderment which occasionally comes over a man
when he wakes in the dark amid fresh surroundings, and wonders where
on earth and what on earth he is; whether he is in this world or the
next. I found ultimately that the camel had literally eaten us out of
house and home, for it had ambled up in the night and devoured the
wattled branches of our hut to such an extent that the sides and roof
suddenly collapsed upon our sleeping forms.