Kavanagh and his friends had no long rest at Abu Klea; they were soon
off again across the Desert, making for the Nile. It was not a cheerful
duty they were performing, for they were convoying a body of sick and
wounded to Korti, and that was rather too close a connection with the
wrong side of the theatre of war. I expect that hospital nurses take
quite a different view of a campaign from that entertained by high-
spirited subalterns. And this present business was worse than the
scenes in a hospital. Do what you will to lighten his sufferings, the
transport of a wounded man must always be a painful operation.
These were being conveyed on camels. You have seen the seats in which
little children often ride on ponies, one on each side, with a board for
the feet to rest on. There were similar affairs on camels' backs, with
two wounded men sitting back to back. Others, whose hurts were more
serious, or of a nature which prevented their sitting up, were slung in
a species of litter.
But, in despite of depressing influences, the escort were lightening the
journey with chat and jest, when they were called to seriousness by the
word--
"Attention!"
Silence fell upon the escort, and every man was in his proper place in a
second. Arabs had been seen in the mimosa bushes to the right of the
convoy, and it was impossible to keep quite clear of them, though, of
course, the object of such a party is to avoid collision with the enemy
as much as possible.
Half a dozen puffs of smoke spurted out of the cover, and as many
bullets came singing overhead. The convoy did not halt, but moved
steadily on, some of the escort dismounting, while the others led their
camels. When the men on foot got a chance they halted and fired, and
then doubled on again, and as they shot a very great deal better than
their enemies, they made them chary of exposing themselves, and so held
their fire in check. As the convoy came abreast of the position,
however, the volleys broke out afresh, and the skirmishers spread, some
in front, others in rear of it, to draw the fire on themselves, and away
from the sick and wounded men. But not with entire success, for it
seemed to be the object of the ambushed Arabs to annoy these with their
fire rather than to fight the escort. There was a poor fellow named
Binks, whose right-hand had been shattered and amputated, riding
sideways on a camel, balanced by another invalid whose head had come in
contact with a fragment of a shell, and was bandaged up. Binks had been
despondent about himself from the first, not caring very much whether he
lived or died, now that he was so mutilated, for how was he to get his
living without a right-hand? He asked. It was in vain that Kavanagh
assured him that he could do very well in the Corps of Commissionaires;
he had not been very steady in the early part of his soldiering career,
and his name had several entries against it in the Regimental
Defaulters' Book, which he was convinced would tell fatally against his
chances.
Suddenly he flung up his left arm, the right being in a sling, and gave
a deep gasp, collapsing in his seat, and falling up against his
companion. All his doubts and difficulties about the future were
solved, poor fellow! For he was shot through the heart. Presently a
camel was wounded, and sank down, groaning pitifully, if pity could have
been spared for it, but most of that was absorbed by the soldier,
suffering grievously from dysentery, whom he carried, and who was now
thrown violently to the ground. A halt was necessary while he was
otherwise accommodated, and the covering party pushed close up to the
shrubby ground, taking advantage of the mimosas in their turn, and
inflicting some loss on the enemy, who seemed now to have quite altered
their former tactics, and to prefer distant to close quarters. When the
convoy moved on again they closed upon it once more, ready to run up to
it at the first signs of a rush upon it. The Soudanese, however, made
none; on the contrary, they seemed to find the marksmanship of the
escort too accurate for their taste, for they drew off to a distance
where the bush was thicker, but so far that the fire they maintained was
a mere waste of ammunition.
"Where's Grady?" cried a man. "Why don't he come and take his camel?"
"Grady!" called the corporal.
"Grady!" called the sergeant; but even _his_ superior authority evoked
no answer.
The officer in command again halted the convoy.
"He may be only wounded; we must not leave him," he said.
"Who saw him last?"
"I can find the place exactly, sir," said Kavanagh, "because of a bit of
rock among the scrub which marked the place, and he was making towards
it."
"Is it far?"
"No, not five hundred yards; it was just before we ran in."
"Then double out and look for him. Go with him, another of you, and
Corporal Adams."
But just as this start was being made Grady appeared, shoving before him
a man dressed in bernouse and cap, bearing the Mahdi's colours of blue
and white, whom he grasped by the scruff of the neck, and, when he
showed unwillingness to advance, expedited his movements with a bump
from his knee. What had happened was this. While skirmishing he had
caught sight of a pair of human heels protruding from a bush which grew
on the side of a rock, and he came to the conclusion that there probably
were legs attached to those heels, and a body in continuation. So he
made a detour, and crept up very softly from behind till he was within
reach of those heels, which he promptly seized--or rather the ankles
above them--and drew out a wriggling Arab with a rifle in his hand,
which he could not get a chance of using against the person who was
drawing him.
Flattering himself that he was entirely concealed, he thought he had got
a beautiful place for a pot-shot when the skirmishers had passed, and
the convoy came abreast of him. And so indeed he had, and with the
barrel of his Remington in the natural rest formed by a fork in the
boughs of a tree, he had a first-rate chance of bagging something. But
he reckoned without his extremities; had he been a foot shorter, or the
scrub a foot deeper, he would have remained unnoticed.
"Come out, you spalpeen, and drop that gun, will ye?" cried Grady, and
both directions were obeyed, involuntarily enough; for, as he spoke, the
butt of the rifle was brought with such a jerk against the stem of a
mimosa, that the owner lost his grip of it, and the same jerk landed him
clear of the bush.
"Be quiet, my jewel, till I pick up your shooting-iron," said Grady, who
wanted to take back the rifle as a prize and a trophy, but feared that
his nimble captive would escape him while he reached for it.
So he knelt on the Arab's back, he lying on his face, and taking a piece
of twine out of his pocket, he tied his elbows together. Then he
reached out and got the rifle, and slung it over his shoulder.
"And will ye plaze to get up?" he said. "You must excuse me if I am a
thrifle rough, but it's owing to the resistance ye make;" and as Grady,
a very powerful man, was the stronger, his captive found himself on his
feet and emerging into the open, without any volition of his own.
"Sure, and it's in mighty good luck ye should estame yourself, to fall
into the hands of a tender-hearted boy like meself, who lets the dirty
life stop in your haythen carcase. By all the laws of your warfare, I
am bound to put my bayonet into your stomach instead of making ye a
prisoner, just as if ye were a respectable sodger, who gave and took
quarter like a Christian. Get along wid ye! Ye are as bad to drive as
a pig, and not a hundredth part the value of him, nor such good company
either. Get on, I say, or they'll be thinking you've took me, and not
that I've took you. Ye've got to go before the captain, and tell him
what he chooses to ask you, so where's the use of struggling, making us
both so uncomfortable this warm day? It's proud ye should be to have
spache with a real gentleman and a British officer, ye poor haythen
vagabond!"
It may be observed that the last sentence was uttered in the possible,
though not the certain and obvious hearing of the officer alluded to.
"Why, Grady, what have you been up to?" was the question which greeted
him.
"Sure and I've made an important capture; look at the clothes of him!
How do you know that it is not the Mahdi himself?"
Here the officer commanding the detachment rode up.
"Well done, Grady," he said; "we were wanting a prisoner, and may get
some valuable information out of this one. A very neat thing indeed; I
shall remember it."
Grady saluted, and went to his camel.
The prisoner had his arms freed, and was given another camel, as he
seemed quiet and philosophical, and had a couple of friendly natives for
companions to pump him. And the convoy went on its slow and painful
journey.
Assured by the other Arabs that no harm would be done him, the captured
man became cheerful and communicative. Of course there are different
sorts of Arabs, as there are of English or Frenchmen, and this one was a
philosopher who saw no particular merit in struggling against the
inevitable, and was inclined to make himself as comfortable as
circumstances permitted. Indeed, he and his captor would have found
much in common if they had passed a social evening together, and been
able to hold converse; though for that it would have been necessary
either for Grady to learn Arabic, or for the native to learn English,
and neither might have thought it worth the trouble.
He belonged to a tribe which had not been very keen about espousing the
Mahdi's cause. They were old-fashioned in their ideas, and did not like
newfangled notions. Besides, this might be an impostor. Mahomet was
good enough for them, and they wanted no other prophet. Then they had
profitable business relations with the Egyptians, and had no desire to
break off communication with them. And they also saw that something was
to be made out of the English, especially if they established themselves
at Khartoum and opened up a trade with the black tribes towards the
Equator. So they were inclined to join us, and throw in their lot with
ours. But one day a proclamation was issued which filled them with
dismay. The English, to reconcile the inhabitants of the Soudan to
their presence, announced that they only desired to rescue General
Gordon and his garrison at Khartoum, and then they would retire from the
Soudan.
But that meant that this particular tribe, and any others who supported
the English, would presently be left alone to stand the brunt of the
Mahdi's power; and the Mahdi's motto was not "Rescue and retire," but
"Annihilate and stop!" If they had been strong enough to stand alone it
would have been different, but without the English alliance they were
powerless to resist the False Prophet.
Therefore the only course for them seemed to be to join him, and so
escape the vengeance which would otherwise overtake them. And since
they had hesitated and therefore incurred suspicion, it was advisable,
they thought, to show the greater zeal, and they in many instances
adopted the Mahdi's uniform, as the present prisoner had done. But they
did not thoroughly believe in him; they were not at any rate fanatical
in his cause, and were not likely to impale themselves on bayonets to
encourage the others, as his more earnest adherents thought it a
privilege to do. At the same time they were Mohammedans, and to kill an
unbeliever must be always a meritorious action in their eyes. So it was
a pleasure to them to pepper the Christians a bit, when occasion
offered, not to mention that any sort of a fight was attractive to such
a warlike race. But still there was no venom in their hostility; we
were enemies, of course, but enemies who might any day become friends;
and Grady's prisoner did not think it necessarily behoved him to sulk,
refuse food, commit suicide, or, which was much the same thing, attempt
to escape. So he was soon chatting freely with the natives, of whom
there were a good many, for the camels conveying the invalids were led
and tended by them. It stands to reason that all he said about his own
tribe and others, and the number of the Mahdi's followers, and the
distribution of his forces, could not be accepted as implicitly correct.
For, in the first place, he most likely had no accurate knowledge on
many of these and similar points; and in the next place, if he had, he
might more than possibly wish to mislead, rather than afford useful
information.
But after a certain amount of practice an officer with a head on his
shoulders learns how to sift the reports gathered from spies, deserters,
prisoners, and peasants, and to get a few grains of valuable fact out of
bushels of chaff. So the chief interpreter went to work, and translated
much useless and some practical talk.
The most interesting account he had to give could not be called useful,
however, because it referred to past events, and these were already
fully reported; but the present party had not heard them. It was
concerning the death of Colonel Stewart, the only English companion
Gordon had for so long, and of which the man professed to have been a
witness in the October of 1884. The following was the Arab's account,
transcribed from the note-book of Sergeant Barton, who could take things
down in shorthand, when men spoke slowly and deliberately, or with the
delay, as in the present instance, of an interpreter:--
"When Gordon Pasha knew that there was no hope, and that Khartoum must
fall, because, though he could hold his own against the enemy without,
treason in the heart of the place was a thing against which he was
powerless, and he knew, though no one else may have done so, that he was
betrayed, he sent off Colonel Stewart in a steamer for a pretended
purpose which imposed upon him, his real object being to save his friend
by getting him out of the way when the attack, which he expected from
day to day, came.
"Nothing would have made Colonel Stewart leave Khartoum if he had
suspected this, but he did not, and he set out in the firm conviction
that his going would really be useful. So say those that should know.
What is certain is that he went, and that his steamer struck on a rock
in the Wad Gamr country, for I myself have seen it. I was with the
Sheikh Omar at Berti at the time. Sheikh Omar had a nephew Sulieman Wad
Gamr, a very bitter enemy of the Turk, and of any one who supported the
Turk, but a man with a double face, who promised most and smiled the
sweetest, when he had the dagger concealed in his sleeve.
"Colonel Stewart did not like the look of him when he came to offer his
services, but Hassan Bey, who was with the Englishman, thought that
Sulieman was to be trusted, and so a conference was held, and Sulieman
undertook to find camels to take all the shipwrecked travellers on to
Merawi if he could. Afterwards he came and said that he knew of camels,
but the people who owned them were afraid that they would be taken from
them by force, and if those who came to conclude the bargain had arms in
their hands, there was no chance of any camels being brought forward,
but if those who were to bargain for them were unarmed, it was very
certain that as many as were necessary might be got. And when, seeing
no other way than to trust Sulieman, Colonel Stewart agreed to this, he
was directed to go at a certain hour to the house of one Fakreitman, who
was blind, but to be sure to take no weapons, neither he nor any of the
party. They went to Fakreitman, the blind man's house, accordingly, and
Sulieman met them there with the men that he had instructed to carry out
his secret, and others who were not entrusted. I was in the courtyard
with others serving under the Sheikh Omar, and we wondered where the
camels were, for we saw none in the neighbourhood, and yet the
bargaining was going on. Then suddenly, at a signal from Sulieman Wad
Gamr, the appointed men attacked Colonel Stewart and his companions, and
there was such a scuffle as is possible when there are sharp swords and
daggers on one side and no weapons at all on the other.
"Colonel Stewart and others were soon put to death. Hassan Bey seized
the owner of the house, the blind man, Fakreitman, and held him before
him as a shield, and so got clear of the house with only a slight wound.
We outside might have dispatched him, but we had no orders, and did not
interfere. And so he got clear, and letting the blind man go, escaped."
Such was the prisoner's account, and there was no reason to doubt the
general tenor of it, though of course the details were not to be
implicitly relied upon.
The man was asked why, since he seemed to bear no particular grudge
against the English, he took such pains to establish himself in a good
position for a sure shot at the convoy. It was not a wise question.
The Arab laughed, and asked if the English had any particular enmity to
the Soudanese.
"No," was the reply. "On the contrary, we wish to be friends with
them."
"And yet," said the prisoner, "you have killed twenty thousand of us in
the last few moons. When we fight we mean to kill; and when we hunt we
mean to kill. Are you not the same?"
There was no denying this; war is of necessity a game for two to play
at, or else it would be sheer murder.
He was questioned about Gordon's death, but, though he was willing
enough to talk on the subject, his information was at third or fourth
hand, and did not profess to be personal, like the other account.
"Ah! That was a man, Gordon Pasha!" he said. "If He had declared
himself a prophet, or the great sheikh of the Soudan, the Mahdi would
have lost all his followers but a few slave hunters, and all would have
gathered under Gordon's standard. He was just, and when he said a thing
every one knew that it was true. The Turks were never just; they took
bribes, and they sought by word and deed to deceive. But Gordon Pasha
was the wisest and the most just ruler that ever came into the country,
and he feared nothing except to offend Allah. The highest and the
lowest were the same to him, and it was a pity to kill him. There will
never be such another."
"Why, then, was he murdered?"
"The Mahdi knew that he was a rival, and must overthrow him if he could,
or else lose his power himself. And he was betrayed by those who had
sinned against him, and been forgiven, but did not believe in the
forgiveness. And besides that, the Mahdi offered them money from the
first, and when you got so near Khartoum he increased this to a large
sum. But all this would not have availed if men had known that Gordon
was going to remain as their sheikh; but where was the use of joining a
sheikh who was leaving to-morrow against another who was sure to stop?"
He was a shrewd fellow, this prisoner of Grady's, and knew how to trim
his sails to the prevailing wind. The marches of the convoy were slow,
as the patients could not bear the jolt of a camel's trot; and the old
medical direction, "When taken to be well shaken," would have been death
to most of them, so the halts were fixed at various intermediate wells,
where zerebas had been formed and held till the last load had passed,
when the detachment performing that duty likewise retired. The body of
Binks was carried on to the bivouac for that night, and decently buried
there.
On the following morning the captured Arab was nowhere to be seen, and
it was at first feared that he had escaped in the night. But he was
soon discovered, the cause of his disappearance being that he had
discarded his Mahdi uniform, which was now a little bundle about the
size of a cocoa-nut, hanging from a projection of a camel's harness.
Such clothing as he wore fitted well, nature herself having measured him
for it; and since he was still a young man, there were no wrinkles in
it. You know how difficult it is to recognise a fellow if you come upon
him down a back-water bathing, and will understand why the prisoner was
missed at first. He came up presently and offered to take service, and
tend a camel. It appeared to him that he had to go along with the party
anyhow, and might as well improve the shining hour and earn a little
money.
Earlier in the march one of the natives in charge of camels had been
killed by one of the scattered volleys which every now and then harassed
them on their journey, and two others had taken the opportunity of
deserting, so that the new volunteer's services were gladly accepted.
And there was the little bundle, ready to be shaken out and put on again
should the fortune of war land him to-morrow amongst the adherents of
the Mahdi. Quite a man of the world, this Arab.
In the course of his long talk with the interpreter the day before,
Kavanagh, who was riding at his side, rifle in hand, having been made
responsible for his safe custody, heard a name repeated several times
which struck him as familiar, and which he yet could not associate with
anything in particular. _Burrachee_! Whereon earth had he ever heard
the word Burrachee? He had dreamt it, or fancied it, or was thinking of
that word which expresses the taste given to wine by the skin in which
it is stored in some places. And he tried to drive it from his head.
But that night he was for guard, and while doing his tour of sentry it
flashed upon him in a second.
Burrachee, the Sheikh Burrachee; that was the name of the Mohammedan
uncle of Harry Forsyth, who lived amongst the Arabs of the Soudan, and
to whom Harry meant to have recourse in finding the portentous will, the
absence of which was the cause that he, Reginald Kavanagh, was tramping
up and down a narrow path under the stars, with a chance of being shot
or sprung upon every minute, instead of being snugly tucked up between
the sheets, snoring to the nightingales.
His mind was easier for having remembered the association with the name,
but his curiosity was excited to know whether there was any connection
between that and the same word used by the Arab, and he took an early
opportunity on the march next day to ask Sergeant Barton to get him the
loan of the interpreter for a bit. For the interpreter was a person of
consequence, in his own estimation at least, and not to be lightly
appropriated by privates.
But tact can do a great deal, and by approaching the question in a
judicious manner, his services were secured, and he blandly expressed
his readiness to put any questions to the ex-prisoner which Kavanagh
might desire, and to translate the answers.
This was the result in one language. To give the Arabic and then the
English would involve mere repetition, so I am sure that you will excuse
that. Besides I could not do it.
_Question_. "Do you know the Sheikh Burrachee?"
_Answer_. "Yes, everybody knows the Sheikh Burrachee."
_Question_. "Is he not a foreigner to the Soudan?"
_Answer_. "It is said so. He is rich, wise, learned, and he is a True
Believer. But his features are not those of the Turk or of the Arab."
_Question_. "Do you know whether a man of his race, much younger, has
joined him lately?"
_Answer_. "Truly, yes, I have heard something of such an event. Some
say his son, others a man made by magic by the sheikh, who is a great
magician, and can make ghosts come and go as he commands."
_Question_. "Did you ever hear of any--(Kavanagh was regularly bothered
to know how to ask after a legal document like a will, and the
interpreter could not help him; at last he hit on the word Firman) of
any Firman the young man was seeking for?"
_Answer_. "No, I have never seen either of them; I speak from hearsay,
and know nothing more than I have told you."
There was nothing more to be got out of Grady's captive.
But still, to know that Forsyth had reached his uncle was something.
And the probability was that he was living, for if he had been dead the
news would very likely have reached this gossiping Arab.
"I told you about the missing will in which I have an interest,"
Kavanagh said to Sergeant Barton, when all that could had been got out
of the Arab.
"Yes; and Daireh the Egyptian led your friend, who undertook to trace
it, a pretty dance out here, and all over the Soudan."
"Yes; well I expect that he has traced him, for it seems he is living
with this Sheikh Burrachee, as he calls himself, who is as mad as a
hatter, and he would not do that without a very strong reason."
"Then the man who may be the Irish sheikh's son, or may be merely a
magical illusion, and vanish or turn into a cat some fine morning, is
your friend, I suppose?" said Barton.
"Sure to be," replied Kavanagh; "though whether he has found Daireh yet
is another question, and if, having found him, he has also got the will
is still more problematical."
"It would be hard lines if, after all that risk and trouble and running
his man to earth, he should find the will destroyed or lost after all,"
said Barton. "I cannot believe in such ill-luck!"
"No more should I three months ago," said Kavanagh; "but after getting
to Khartoum just three days too late I am prepared for anything. What
is the journey undertaken by Forsyth compared to the expedition fitted
out, the persevering struggle against the forces of Nature, and the
opposition of hosts of desperate foes for the purpose of rescuing
Gordon? And that all that should fail seemed too bad to be possible.
Yet so it was. I shall always be prepared for the worst for the rest of
my life."