A Prisoner of the Khaleefa/Chapter 21
CHAPTER XXI
NEARING THE END
Events were now following each other in rapid succession. In the universal excitement prevailing, sleep was almost unknown, drums were beaten and ombeyehs blown continuously day and night, days and dates were lost count of; even Friday, that one day in the week in Mahdieh, was lost sight of by most, and the prayers were left unsaid.
Councils of war were the order of the day — and night; and what tales we heard! The Emir Abd-el-Baagi had been entrusted by the Khaleefa and Yacoub with keeping in touch with the advancing armies, and sending to Omdurman information of every movement. Never was a general better served with "intelligence" than was Abdullahi by Abd-el-Baagi; his messengers were arriving every few hours in the early days, and hourly towards the end. It was with no little astonishment that we heard Sabalooka was to be abandoned. The boom of chains which was to entangle the paddles of the gunboats had snapped, therefore it was the will of Allah that the boats were to come on. Then the mines exploded. Again it was Allah, who in this showed that he would not have His designs interfered with. The real truth of the matter was, that the troops at Sabalooka, hearing that the gunboats had guns which could send one of the "devils" (shells) half a day's journey, and over hills too, took upon themselves to retire out of range.
There was an old prophecy to the effect that the great fight would take place on the plains of Kerreri. Here the infidels were to be exterminated, and all the waverers on the side of the faithful were to be killed, the remnant collecting afterwards and then starting off, a purified army, on the conquest of the whole world. Again, it was decided that the faithful were to collect in Omdurman, and allow the infidels to come on. While attacks were being made against them on the western flank and rear, a great sortie was to be made from the town, when the infidels, pressed back to Kerreri plains, would be caught between three fires, and exterminated. The gunboats, with their "devils," would be afraid to shoot, as they would kill their own people. But no sooner had this been decided upon when objections were raised. "Those gunboats could anchor half a day's journey off, knock Omdurman to pieces, and bury the faithful under the ruins.
Again the prophecy was alluded to, and a move out to meet the armies finally decided upon. Every man was to be taken out of Omdurman, so that, if the infidels should succeed in reaching the town, they would find only women and children, and instead of their being the besiegers, they would become the besieged. Omdurman was overrun by Abdullahi's spies, who, professing to be friendly towards the "Government," tried to wheedle out of known friends of the Government expressions of opinion as to the chances of success to the Mahdists' arms, and at the same time to ascertain the general feeling of the populace. Their favourite hunting-ground was of course the Saier, where the more influential people were incarcerated. From the persistence with which these spies pressed their inquiries as to the chances of success which might attend large bodies deserting to the Ingleezee under cover of darkness — their anxiety to learn how they might approach the camp without being fired upon before they had been given an opportunity of evidencing their peaceable intentions — we came to the conclusion that Abdullahi had been advised to make a night attack. Few knew better than we did what might. be the result of such a tactic. At close quarters the dervish horde was more than a match for the bestdrilled army in Europe. Swift and silent in their movements, covering the ground at four or five times the speed of trained troops, every man, when the moment of attack came, accustomed to fight independently of orders, lithe and supple, nimble as cats and as bloodthirsty as starving man-eating tigers, utterly regardless of their own lives, and capable of continuing stabbing and jabbing with spear and sword while carrying half a dozen wounds, any one of which would have put a European hors de combat — such were the 75,000 to 80,000 warriors which the Khaleefa had ready to attack the Sirdar's little army. Artillery, rifles, and bayonets would have been but of little avail against a horde like this rushing a camp by night.
We had heard from the prisoner deserters how, at the Atbara, the armies had advanced by night and delivered their attack at dawn, first shelling the zareeba with their "devils," which "came from such a great distance." With Fauzi, Hamza the Jaalin, and others, I came to the conclusion that the same tactics would be employed for the attack at Kerreri; therefore, to the spies we swore that the English never did things twice in the same way; that they would on this occasion march during the day and attack at night, since the Sirdar would be afraid to let his soldiers see the Khaleefa's great army, as they would all run away if they did. Our advice was that the faithful should remain in their camp, and await the attack. It would have been very awkward for me had the Sirdar planned a night attack, for he would have found the dervishes on the qui vive awaiting him, and then I might have been blamed for the advice I had given. However, I believed that a night attack would be the very last thing he would resort to, and any tale from our side was good enough, provided doubts were raised in the minds of the Khaleefa and his advisers as to the chances of success which would attend his attacking by night.
The population at this period may be said to have divided itself into three camps; the one praying — and sincerely, for the victory to Mahdieh; the second praying openly to the same end, but breathing prayers to Heaven for just the reverse; the third camp — and this the bigger of the three, consisting of those waiting to see which side would probably win in order to throw in its lot with it. Dozens of people, who really were friends of the Government, came to me in prison asking advice as to what they might do before the troops actually arrived to evidence their loyalty, and it must not be forgotten that they were risking death at the hour of deliverance. To most I was still the "brother of Stephenson el Ingleezee," and there were "brothers" of mine coming up with the Government troops.
I was able, through these people, to collect the information I was sending off daily by spies. Abdallahel-Mahassi, who had received some message from Major Fitton, asking about me, and also asking for all information procurable concerning the arms and ammunition possessed by the dervishes, sent to me the spy Worrak, who had been released from prison, for any information I could give. Worrak, doubtless looking forward to a reward, decided upon delivering my messages himself. He was to be accompanied by two others; so, besides giving him notes with the numbers of rifles, etc., issued to the troops, and a last warning about the mines near Halfeyeh, I gave the information verbally to the three, so that, in the event of it being found necessary to destroy the papers, the verbal messages would get through. Worrak and his companions left, but were intercepted by Abd-el-Baagi's scouts. Inflating their water-skins, they took to the river under a shower of bullets. Worrak must have been killed or drowned, as he was not seen again; but the two others reached the British lines, delivered the messages, and said that they would be confirmed by Worrak, who they then thought must have been carried by the current to the east bank of the Nile. These were the last messengers I actually sent off.
One of the Saier gaolers had worked himself into a state of frenzied excitement in describing, for the edification of the prisoners — and mine in particular, the coming destruction of the infidels. He gloated over the time when the principal officers — their eyes gouged out to prevent their looking upon the benign face of his master, would be brought into the Saier, and there baited for the amusement of the populace. How little the Sirdar thought, on that September evening, that one of the gaolers grovelling at his feet had, but a few days previously, looked forward to the time when he, blinded and shackled, would be lashed round the place, and, with the rest of my "brothers," spend the nights in the "Umm Hagar." This gaoler, in his mad enthusiasm, rushed at me, and nearly succeeded in gouging out my left eye. There was a struggle, and getting up almost breathless, and certainly driven to desperation, I turned stupidly round, and prophesied, for his edification this time, that the destruction he had predicted for my "brothers" was the destruction which was to fall upon Mahdieh.
It was fortunate for me that, for a few days previous, Idris es Saier had been sending for me, under one pretext and another, and asking what action he should
take in case the English won the battle. I promised that if he treated me well, I would say "good words" for him; but perhaps Fauzi's tale made the greatest impression upon him. Fauzi related that when the English took Egypt there was one gaoler at Alexandria and another at Cairo. The gaoler at Cairo treated his prisoners well, and so the English promoted him; the gaoler at Alexandria killed his prisoners, and ran away to another country across the seas, but the English brought him back, and hanged him in his old prison. Knowing that the troops were close, Idris took me under his especial care, for he knew I had sent messages to my "brothers" telling them I was alive, and he feared that if they came and found me dead, they would hang him on the same scaffold with my corpse. Although he warned the gaolers and spies to say that I was mad, and did not know what I had been saying, my little speech by some means got to Yacoub's ears. I was carefully watched, and no one from outside was allowed to speak to me. I should have been taken out of prison to see the great fight, but I believe that I was the only Christian not called out to the field of battle. I had asked Idris not to remove my chains if I was sent for. I had no wish to be found alive or dead on the field as a practically free man, and, dressed as a dervish, any attempt on my part to escape to the British lines during the fight could only end in my being shot down.
The Khaleefa had been sitting for eight days in the mosque in communion with the Prophet and the Mahdi, and it was either on the Tuesday night or Wednesday morning immediately preceding the battle that the decision to move out of town was arrived at. On the Wednesday afternoon a grand parade of all the troops was held on the new parade ground, and, while it was being held, alarming news was brought by Abd-el-Baagi’s messengers. Instead of returning to the town as intended, the Khaleefa set off with the whole army in a north-westerly direction. It was this hurried movement which accounted for the greater part of the arms and ammunition he required being left in the Beit-el-Amana, for Abdullahi had intended distributing the remainder of the rifles only at the last moment, when his troops would have to use them against the infidels in self-defence; he could trust none but his Baggara and Taaishi. Sheikh ed Din, with Yunis, Osman Digna, Khaleefa Shereef, and Ali Wad Helu, moved off first in command of the attacking army of 35,000 rifles and horsemen. Yacoub followed in command of a similar number of spear and swordsmen; in all, the army assembled must have numbered between 75,000 and 80,000 men. As every male had been taken from Omdurman, the Khaleefa issued a hundred rifles to the gaolers with which to shoot down the prisoners in case of trouble.
That night the rain came down in torrents, and the following day the army arose uncomfortable, and maybe a little dispirited, but Abdullahi restored their good spirits by the relation of a vision. During the night the Prophet and the Mahdi had come to him, and let him see beforehand the result of the battle ; the souls of the faithful killed were all rising to Paradise, while the legions of hell were seen tearing into shreds the spirits of the infidels. While this tale was going its rounds, the gunboats were creeping up, and a further move to the north was ordered, for it had been reported that the English were landing the big guns on Tuti Island, to shell the camp.
We, too, in prison heard that the gunboats were approaching, and then we heard the distant boom, boom of the guns gradually nearing and growing louder. Before we had time to speculate as to whether the great fight had commenced or not, a boy whom I had stationed on the roof of a gaoler's house, came running down to say that the "devils" were passing Halfeyeh. At the same moment we were smothered in dust and stones; a shell had struck the top of the prison wall, ricochetted to the opposite wall, and fallen without exploding in the prison of the women. All we prisoners hurried off and squatted at the base of the north wall, believing this to be the safest place. The air was now filled with what to us chained wretches appeared to be the yells and screeches of legions of the damned let loose. We shuddered and looked helplessly from one to the other. Then I noticed that the shells were all flying high over us. Getting to my feet, I rushed — as far as my shackles allowed — stumbling to the middle of the open space, tried to dance and jump, called on all to come and join me. I shouted that my "brothers" had got my messages; that only one place in Omdurman would be left — the Saier; my brothers would spare all their lives for me. Yes, I had gone mad; reason had left me, and I was raving, laughing, crying, singing, kissing my hands in welcome to those terrible messengers of death screeching and yelling overhead; throwing open my arms, and leaping up to embrace the shell which a second later was to gather in death seventy-two then praying in the mosque.[1]
I was only saved from death at the hands of the infuriated Baggara prisoners by Idris es Saier locking them all up in the Umm Hagar, and leaving myself, Fauzi, the Jaalin, and other Government sympathizers in the open. Then the tales of the fight came to us; two of the gunboats had been sunk, and the remainder had run away again! Fauzi and I sat there distracted, heartbroken. The attack on Khartoum, in 1885, had been enacted over again. I sat in a daze; the reaction from the madness of joy to that of despair was more than the strongest man could stand, after nearly twelve years' captivity, but fortunately I broke down and sobbed like a child.
During the night we could hear the pat, pat, pat of at first a few dozen feet, until eventually we could tell that thousands were running into the town. It is no use relating the tales then told us, I will relate what actually occurred. After the bombardment of the forts, the Khaleefa sent messengers to bring in all news from Omdurman. When told that all the forts had been destroyed, he ordered a salute to be fired in token of his having gained a victory, and called out, "Ed deen mansour" — the Faith is Triumphant! But other messengers were hurrying in, and as they came with grave faces and asked to see Yacoub before delivering their news to the Khaleefa, it was soon noised abroad that the volley from the rifles was only to try and hide something serious which had occurred. First, it was learned that, instead of the gunboats having been destroyed, it was the forts which had been battered to pieces. Then the more superstitious lost heart when it was related that one of the "devils" had entered the sacred tomb of the Mahdi, and numbers deserted desertwards, afterwards striking back to town. Later on, it became known that not only had one of the shells destroyed the Mimbar (pulpit), but had also destroyed the Mihrab — that sacred niche in the wall of the mosque giving the direction of Mecca. What rallying-place was there now for Mahdieh? And so more deserted.
Between ten and eleven at night a riderless horse from the British or Egyptian cavalry came slowly moving, head down, towards the dervish lines. The Khaleefa had related how, in one of his visions, he had seen the Prophet mounted on his mare riding at the head of the avenging angels destroying the infidels. This apparition of the riderless horse was too much; at least one-third of the Khaleefa's huge army deserted terrified. When Yacoub told him of the desertions, Abdullahi merely raised his head to say, "The prophecy will be fulfilled, if only five people stay near me." His Baggara and Taaishi stood by him, but they too were losing heart, for the Khaleefa, on his knees, with head bowed to the ground, was groaning, instead of, as customary, repeating the name of the Deity. However, he pulled round a little as the night progressed, and invented visions enough to put spirits into the remaining but slightly despondent troops.
- ↑ The flight of the shells overhead had a most extraordinary effect; they appeared to compress the atmosphere and press it down to the earth; we could actually feel the pressure on our bodies, and with some it brought on nausea.