Korti was the pleasantest place Kavanagh had been to yet. It was
healthy, there were plenty of trees to give shade, forage was easily got
for the camels, and fresh provisions for the men, for the villages about
seemed more prosperous than usual, and the inhabitants more friendly.
Here the camel drill was polished up and brought to perfection. They
worked in this way. You must know that though the soldiers rode camels
on the march, they were not intended to fight on their backs, except
perhaps incidentally when they were out scouting.
So their object when in immediate contact with the enemy was to get rid
of their camels for the time being, but so that they might find them
again and remount at the shortest possible notice. The battalion being
in column--that is, suppose a double row of men on camels, forming a
front and rear rank, and some way behind them another double row, and
then a third, and then a fourth; that forms what is meant by a column--
well, then, the battalion, as I say, being in column, the word of
command, signifying what formation the men are to take after they have
dismounted, is given, followed by the words, "Close order!" Upon this
the rear rank of the leading line jambs up to the front rank, which
halts at the word. All the rear rows break into a trot and jamb up to
the front in turn.
When all are close and compact, the camels are told to lie down; the men
dismount, and tie up their animals' legs, so that they cannot rise, with
the head rope. The men who have to run out and mark the places where
the others are to form when ready, get their camels knee-lashed for them
by the two men whose duty it is to remain with the animals of their
company.
By the time the beasts are in a square, helpless mass, the markers are
"covered" (or got into their proper places according to the order
accurately) by an officer, and the men form on them at once. After a
good deal of drill this was done very quickly, as such things are when
each man knows exactly what to do and how to do it, since it is
confusion and uncertainty which cause delay. When the battalion had to
move away and manoeuvre at some little distance from the camels, one
company was always to be left to defend them.
The pleasant time at Korti was soon over, and they started across the
desert for Shendy. If you will look at the map you will see that from
Korti (which you will find in the neighbourhood of Old Dongola, Ambukoi,
Merawi, places written large) the Nile stretches to the north for a
hundred miles and more as far as Abu Hamed, when it makes a bend
completely round, and goes south all the rest of its course. So that by
cutting across the desert from Korti to Shendy, or rather Matammeh,
which is on the nearer bank of the river, an enormous distance is cut
off.
And since time was of the utmost importance, if Khartoum and Gordon were
to be rescued, a force under General Stewart was to take the short cut,
while the rest followed the tedious windings of the Nile, actually
turning their backs for a precious hundred miles on the way they wanted
to go. It was provoking, but it could not be helped; water carriage was
absolutely necessary for the existence of the expedition.
Those who were to go with General Stewart's force were in high spirits,
and the others envied them exceedingly, for they were going straight at
the throat of the enemy, and would probably relieve Khartoum, disperse
the Arab hordes, finish the campaign; who knew? They might even bring
the Mahdi back in a cage, perhaps, before those following the river
would have a chance of distinguishing themselves. They need not have
distressed themselves; there would be plenty of hard fighting for all.
You might as well know how our friend Reginald Kavanagh was dressed when
he mounted his camel for the desert ride. Picture him then in a loose
red flannel tunic, corduroy knee-breeches, serge leggings, white pith
helmet with a puggaree round it. Over his shoulder he wore a bandolier
belt with sockets for fifty cartridges, and a rifle pocket, in which the
butt of the rifle was secured. The bandolier made him look something
like a mediaeval musketeer; or might have reminded an admirer of Dumas'
wonderful story--and who is not?--of Artagnan, Athos, Porthos, and
Aramis.
The Naval Brigade was also mounted on camels, and it was great fun to
see them start. The camel has been called the ship of the desert, but
that was by a poet, who thought rightly enough that he said a pretty
thing, but who did not mean it literally. Jack did.
"How this craft does roll!" cried one.
"Hard a port, Bill, or you'll foul me."
"What d'ye come across my bows for, then?"
"Can't help it; this here won't answer the helm. Port, will you!"
"Port it is."
"Mind, messmate, your camel's going to founder, I think."
But the warning came too late; the beast dropped on its knees, and Jack
went flying over his hideous head.
Love of adventure and excitement is one thing, patient endurance is
another. You want to combine the two to get good soldiers, and
Englishmen hitherto have done pretty well. So did these, only after a
certain number of hours' march they were less jocular and more vicious.
When they got to the first wells, where they expected to have a rest,
being by that time pretty well baked, the supply of water was found to
be so scarce that they had to push on at once; but they did it for the
most part in silence.
"Well, Tarrant," said Kavanagh, when they had been plodding on for some
two hours in dead silence, "have you not got a growl for us?"
"No, I haven't," replied the champion grumbler. "I did get a drink at
Hasheen, but this poor brute I am riding didn't, so I leave the growling
to him."
"Sure it ought to be put in the _Gazette_" cried Grady, waking up.
"First grumbler, Tarrant's camel, _vice_ Tarrant, contented."
"I never said I was contented," replied Tarrant.
"Only it is a consolation to know there's some one worse off than
yourself."
"Meaning the camels?"
"Aye, and not only them. Don't you remember that 19th Hussar chap who
came up the last halt? There was a go!"
"What do you mean?"
"Didn't you hear? Why, he belonged to Captain Fanshawe's troop, who
went skirmishing about, and caught a sheikh, called Abu Zoolah. Well,
he said that a while ago the Mudir of Dongola had offered a thousand
dollars for his head, and now it isn't worth the price of a pint. Just
think what a chance to nearly get, and miss! There's a lot of beer in a
thousand dollars."
"Sure, yes, that's hard lines," observed Grady. "What fun it would be
to go out shooting, and get a thousand dollars for every man you
bagged."
"Aye, that would make a man hold straight, if anything would," said
Macintosh. And there were a few spurts of talk like that, but mostly
they plodded on in silence.
It took close upon three days to reach Gakdul Wells, and during all that
time the camels were not watered, the supply at intermediate wells being
barely sufficient for the men. But when they got to Gakdul there was
abundance of the life-restoring element for all, beasts and men, thanks
to the Royal Engineers and their pumps. For the place was as wild and
romantic as you can imagine, the wells being hidden away in deep caverns
with precipitous sides, in the midst of frowning and rugged rocks. The
sailors, with their contempt of heights, and entire freedom from
giddiness, swung themselves down into the most horrible abysses, if only
they had a rope made fast at top, without a moment's hesitation, fixing
pipes by which the precious fluid was pumped up and conveyed to the
troops.
It was a treat to see the camels drink when at last they got the chance;
they sucked the water up with a loud noise, and you could trace it
flowing down their necks in waves. Four days is the longest period they
can go without a supply. There are people in India and elsewhere who
believe that when they die their souls go into the bodies of animals,
and Kavanagh's acquaintance with his camel enabled him to understand
this odd notion, for when he looked in its eyes for some time he almost
expected it to speak. It was an unsatisfactory beast in some respects,
for it would not be petted in any way, and it was impossible to make
friends with it. Try to pet it, and it growled; persist, and it tried
to bite him. I have known a dog of much the same disposition, but then
he made one or two exceptions, and showed as much exaggerated fondness
for them as made up for his general want of amiability.
But the camel was consistent, and steadily refused to form the slightest
attachment to anything human. You remember the genii in the "Arabian
Nights Entertainments" who were forced to serve powerful magicians, but
who hated them and longed to tear them in pieces all the time, and did
so, too, if the omission of some necessary incantation gave them the
power. Well, the camel seemed like one of these subjugated spirits, an
excellent servant, but a most unwilling one, and resenting the power to
which, forced by inevitable destiny, he yielded implicit obedience.
Evidently he was a fatalist, like the people he lived amongst.
When he was being loaded for the journey he moaned and howled as if he
were being beaten to death, and whenever a start was made, the outcry of
hundreds of the creatures remonstrating at once was something perfectly
unparalleled in the way of horrid and dismal noises.
"Sure," said Grady on the first occasion, "I have often heard spake of a
howling wilderness, but I never knew what it meant before at all. But I
see now; it's the camel that does the howling."
But once started he seemed to make up his mind to the inevitable. While
he was uncertain what Fate had in store for him he groaned and lamented,
but once he knew the worst he thought it was no use bothering, and
proceeded on his way in apparent content.
Indeed, that seemed to be his one aim and object, to be always going
straight on to some place a long way off and never arriving, like the
Wandering Jew. As for his appearance, you have probably often seen a
camel in the Zoological Gardens or a wild beast show, and know his
weird, shapeless, uncanny look, with the beard on his upper lip, and the
hard natural pads on all parts of him which touch the ground when he
subsides for loading or unloading; his chest, knees, and so on. An
experienced man has described his motion when he trots in this
way:--"Put a horse into a cart without springs, in the cart put a
rickety table; on the table place a music-stool screwed up as high as it
will go. Now seat yourself on the music-stool and gallop over a
ploughed field, and you will have a very correct notion of the sensation
of riding a trotting camel." But with practice the motion is much
easier, and with so many hours in the day in the saddle the troops had
plenty of practice.
The position at Gakdul was naturally strong, and with the aid of art was
made perfectly impregnable, forming a place to fall back upon in case of
need. The camels, it has been explained, utterly declined all friendly
advances, but the affections of the company Kavanagh belonged to were
not on that account destined to grow utterly rusty for want of use,
since a dog had attached himself in every sense of the word to it.
Where the dog came from and to whom he belonged originally were matters
as mysterious as his breed, which seemed to partake of several
varieties, amongst which the native sheep dog was the most perceptible.
But his virtues were manifold. He joined on that day of the march when
the towing commenced, and posted himself, as no one did it for him, and
he was enlisted under the name of _Hump_, not because of any personal
deformity, but after the distinguishing characteristic of the camel.
When the battalion took to riding, and, though still following the
course of the Nile, often lost sight of it for some hours, either
because the track was better or to cut off a corner, Hump carried his
own water-bottle, ingeniously constructed for him by a man named Thomas
Dobbs, out of an old preserved meat tin covered with a bit of felt, to
prevent its becoming too hot; and this was fastened round his neck.
When a halt was called, and he wanted a drink, he went up to one of the
men, who would take off the cover and pour a little out for him. This
was all very well while the river was near, but when they were about to
strike across the desert, where water would be scarce, and he would
hardly be able to carry enough for his own wants, it was determined to
leave him behind, and he was made over to a man who promised to, take
charge of him, and who was to remain on the Nile.
But in the bivouac at Gakdul, Dobbs awoke with a start under the
impression that a snake was gliding over his face, and sitting up found
that it was Hump licking him, the empty water-bottle still round his
neck.
It now seemed hopeless to get rid of him, so they let him take his
chance; to live if he could manage to supply himself, and to be shot
should his sufferings from thirst prove too great. Poor Hump! The most
thoughtful feared that he had a poor chance of reaching a good old age.
And yet he developed a wonderful talent for finding water in unexpected
places, which was useful to himself and others. Sometimes when men
would turn away in disappointment from a mud-hole which was indicated by
a native guide as a well, but which proved to be dry, Hump would sniff
out some place near, and scratch, and six inches or so below the surface
water would begin to ooze and trickle.
On January 16th, 1885, at noon, the column on the march was roused from
the lethargy induced by monotonous riding hour after hour under a warm
sun by distant firing.
"By Jabers!" cried Grady. "There's an inimy somewheres after all. I
began to think Mr Mahdi had packed up his things--it's a mighty small
portmanteau most of them require--and gone out of the country entirely,
with all his people."
"Make your mind quite easy, Grady," said Sergeant Barton, who was riding
near. "The Arabs won't baulk you, if you want something to remind you
of Donnybrook."
"It isn't for myself, Mr Sergeant, sir, that I care. I am a peaceable
man, and would sooner get what I want quietly. It's my friend Tarrant
here who is spoiling for a fight, and to see him pining away before me
very eyes, just for want of a little divarshion with his rifle, makes me
feel quite low."
"Here come the scouts back!" cried Kavanagh, and sure enough the Hussars
were seen riding in. For some time all was suspense and conjecture
amongst our friends; but after awhile the news circulated from the staff
to the regimental officers, from the officers to the sergeants, from the
sergeants to the men, that the enemy were in position at the Wells of
Abu Klea, twenty-three miles from Matammeh, the place on the Nile they
were working for. Where was Abu Klea? Straight to their front was a
ridge of fantastically-shaped rocks, and there the enemy was in
position.
A little nearer square was formed, and in that formation the force
advanced to the foot of the ridge, and was there halted. Then, after
awhile, orders were issued to form a zereba for the night, and it was
soon made, the materials being plentiful and close at hand, and the
camels and stores were placed within it.
"Men for picket!" cried a sergeant, and Kavanagh, who had been warned
for the duty, stepped forward and fell in with the others, and presently
they were marched off and posted on one of the hills commanding the
zereba.
The officer in command took careful note of the position and posted his
sentries, taking care to be in communication with the pickets on his
right and left, and the zereba in his rear. The sentries were double,
that is, there were two men on each post, and were changed every hour.
An hour's sentry-go may seem to you but a short spell, but if you had a
swarm of agile sharp-sighted savages prowling about you all the time,
and knew that your own life and those of others who depended on you
would be sacrificed if your vigilance flagged, perhaps you would find it
long enough.
It was ten o'clock when Kavanagh was roused to go on; Dobbs was his
companion, and Corporal Adams posted them.
"You are to challenge any one approximating this post," he said; "and if
they say `friend' or `rounds' you must stop them and make them give the
countersign. If they can't you must run them in, and if they won't be
run in you must run them through with your bayonet; if they won't be run
through you must wait and see if there's many of them, and if there is
you must shoot. But you mustn't alarm the camp without reason, mind
you."
And with these somewhat conflicting "must's" and "must not's" he left
them in the gloom. The position was as uncomfortable a one as Kavanagh
had ever been in. His imagination peopled the night around him with
supple forms ready to leap upon him from behind every time he turned in
walking his beat. I won't say that either he or Thomas Dobbs was
frightened, for that would be a slur on a soldier, and one or the other
might have me up for it; but they did not half like it. They had been
on about twenty minutes when Kavanagh thought he saw something move by a
rock a little in front of him, and the next time he met Dobbs, as they
both patrolled to the same spot and turned, he whispered his suspicions
to him, and he went with him a few paces back along his beat and gazed
in the direction, but could distinguish nothing. Kavanagh did not know
whether to challenge or not, but thought it best to wait and watch;
perhaps he might have been mistaken.
Presently he heard Dobbs cry, "Who goes there?" in a decidedly startled
voice, and he brought his own rifle down to the charge. But immediately
afterwards Dobbs said--
"What! Is it you, Hump, old boy, come to do a bit of sentry-go? By
jingo, you made me jump!"
And no wonder; in such a ticklish situation, to have something jump upon
you in the dark, when all your nerves are on the stretch, must be very
startling.
Five minutes passed, and there again by the rock Kavanagh was certain he
saw a figure move this time, and he, in his turn, called--
"Who goes there?" again bringing down his bayonet.
There was no reply, and he waited, uncertain what to do next, when Hump
suddenly dashed forward with a low, angry growl; and presently
exclamations were heard in an unknown tongue indeed, but which, from the
accent, did not appear to be blessings.
"Good dog, Hump; shake him, boy!" cried Dobbs; but the animal was
evidently doing his best in that direction without encouragement.
But the man, who could not have been a dozen yards off, shook himself
free somehow, and Hump retired growling, from which Kavanagh felt
convinced there were more than one or two Arabs near. Presently he made
out three objects against the sky-line, and thought he ought to delay no
longer, so he fired at them.
Whether he hit anything he could not, of course, tell; but in reply to
his shot there were at least twenty flashes of fire in his front, and
the bullets came buzzing about the ears of Kavanagh and Dobbs like a
swarm of hornets, though neither was touched.
The picket turned out, and, as the Arabs were some of them quite close
to them, the sentries retired upon it. The enemy kept on firing for
about five minutes, then ceased; and the sentries were advanced again,
but somewhat closer in than before, since, but for the dog, these two
would have been cut off.
They were relieved presently; but there were two other alarms in the
night, and the troops in the zereba did not get a very sound rest,
having thus to stand to their arms three times.
The morning at length dawned, and a sharp fire was maintained for some
time from the hills, the pickets being withdrawn into the zereba. Then
the enemy advanced in two long lines, with banners flying, five thousand
of them, an imposing spectacle, and the English soldiers grasped their
weapons, thinking that the struggle had come at last. But not yet was
it to be. The enemy declined to push the attack home, but halted at a
distance, keeping up a galling fire. So, as men began to drop, and the
day was slipping on, General Stewart determined at ten o'clock to take
the initiative.
The camels and other encumbrances were left in the zereba with a guard,
and the square advanced, working round the left of the enemy's position.
The Arabs retreated, and some of our young soldiers began to anticipate
an easy victory. But the enemy showed that they too could manoeuvre;
suddenly wheeling to the left, they came down like an avalanche on the
rear of the square, bearing back the men composing it, and breaking in
at one of the corners.
Why detail the scene? It was very much the same as that which occurred
the year before at Tamai, on the Red Sea side, to the Second Brigade,
and which was described while we were following the fortunes of Tom
Strachan. The hand-to-hand fighting was desperate, the slaughter
terrible, and the enemy was finally beaten back. No matter; a step was
taken, though deep in blood, towards the great object--the relief of
Khartoum, and the rescue of Gordon, and hope beat high in every breast.
Next day, January the nineteenth, General Stewart left his wounded at
the wells of Abu Klea, which had been won, and pushed forward for
Matammeh at three in the afternoon. No resistance was met with, no sign
of the enemy perceived all night, and when the day dawned a thread of
silver shone in the south-east, and a hundred voices broke out
simultaneously in a chorus of--
"The Nile!"
Yes, there was the river, and as the light grew stronger the town of
Matammeh could be distinguished. At the same time the tam-tams were
heard beating, and the enemy appeared swarming over the hills which
intervened between the British army and the river.
Another zereba was constructed, for the men were exhausted with fatigue
and want of food, and it was not thought wise to give battle until they
were refreshed, for it is ill fighting on an empty stomach. So
breakfast was got ready, the troops of the Mahdi gathering round the
while, like the masses of a thunder-cloud.
Presently it burst forth, with rifle flashes for lightning, and a deadly
leaden hail. Vainly the men piled up camel furniture, barrels, sacks,
sand-bags, for protection; the bullets came amongst them in a storm, and
they fell in all directions. And then a rumour ran through all the
ranks which spread, not dismay, indeed, nor consternation, but a stern
tightening of the heart-strings and bracing of the muscles, with a
desire to shoot straight and strike home. The general was hit! Yes,
the noble Stewart was down!
Sir Charles Wilson now took command. A redoubt was constructed by the
Royal Engineers on the right of the zereba, and manned by fifty-five
Life Guardsmen and Scots Greys under Lord Cochrane, and by this means
the enemy's fire was somewhat held in check.
At length the longed-for opportunity for vengeance came; the square left
the zereba and advanced upon the foe. Straight it went for the sandy
ridge held by the enemy, who came charging down with their accustomed
reckless courage.
But this time they did not get up to the square. The ground was too
open, the zone of fire too unimpeded, the shooting too steady. Down
they went in hecatombs. At one hundred yards their pace was checked,
those behind embarrassed by the heaps of dead and dying blocking their
path. Still they struggled on to get to close quarters with the
English, but at thirty yards the withering volleys were too deadly even
for their supernatural bravery, and they broke and fled. Steadily
advanced the English troops over the ridge of sand, firing carefully
while the fugitives were within range; then down to the Nile at Gubat,
near Matammeh, victorious indeed, but having paid a high price for
victory.
"If them Arabs takes to shooting straight, and won't come on any more,
it strikes me we shall be in a hole," said Thomas Dobbs to Grady.
"True for you, me boy," replied the Irishman.
"Or at any rate we shall not be able to go about in square for them to
get all round and blaze away into the brown of us." And there were some
of higher rank who began to entertain the same misgivings.
To resist a rush, the square was excellent, but for a long-continued
fire without coming to close quarters it was impossible. Many of the
more sanguine, however, hoped that the tremendous losses the Arabs had
sustained would dishearten them--that they would awake to the fact that
the Mahdi was by no means invincible, and had deceived them.
As for Gordon, had they not had a message from him? "All right; could
hold out for years."
Their chivalrous dash across the desert, and the hard fighting against
enormous odds, the loss of valuable men, and the fall of their general,
were not fruitless then, since the object of the expedition would be
attained.
"Sure we will all get a bar with _Khartoum_ on it under a medal!" said
Grady.
"Medals! Bars! Yah!" cried Tarrant.
"I'd sooner have tuppence a day extra for beer."
"We've got naither the medal nor the bar nor Khartoum yet, d'ye ken?"
said Macintosh.