Henty George Alfred
With Kitchener in the Soudan: A Story of Atbara and Omdurman
"Mahmud told me today that he had done all in his power but, placed as he was, he could not withstand the words of the emirs, and the complaints of the tribesmen. When the battle comes–as it must come in a day or two–it will need all his influence and the faith of the men with him to win; and with so much at stake, how can he risk everything for the sake of a single life, and that the life of an infidel? If you would agree to aid in working his guns, as the Greeks and Egyptians do, it would content the emirs."
"That I cannot do," Gregory said. "If I am to be killed, it is the will of God; but better that, a thousand times, than turn traitor!"
"I knew that it would be so," Fatma said sorrowfully. "What can we do? At other times, the protection of the harem would cover even one who had slain a chief; but now that the Baggara are half starving, and mad with anger and disappointment, even that no longer avails. If they would brave the anger of the son of the Khalifa, they would not regard the sanctity of the harem. I wish now that I had advised you to try and escape when we left Shendy, or even when we first came here. It would have been difficult, but not impossible; but now I can see no chance. There is the thorn hedge round the wood, with few openings, and with men on watch all round to prevent desertion. Several tried to escape last night–all were caught and killed this morning. Even if it were possible to pass through, there are bands of horsemen everywhere out on the plain, keeping watch alike against the approach of the enemy and the desertion of cowards.
"I have been in despair, all day, that I cannot save the life of one who saved mine. I have told Mahmud that my honour is concerned, and that I would give my life for yours. Months ago, he would have braved the anger of all his army for me, but he has changed much of late. It is not that he loves me less, but that he has been worried beyond bearing, and in his troubles he drinks until he forgets them.
"My only hope is that your people will attack tomorrow. Mahmud says that they will assuredly be beaten; they will be shot down as they approach, and none will ever be able to get through the hedge. Then, when they fall back, the Baggara will pour out, horse and foot, and destroy them. They will then see how right he has been in not letting them go out into the plain to fight. His influence will be restored, and your life will be safe.
"We are to be removed to the farther side of the wood, when the fighting begins; and there all the women are to be gathered, and wait, till the infidels are utterly destroyed.
"If your people come tomorrow morning, you may be saved. Otherwise I fear the worst."
"I thank you for what you have done for me," replied Gregory, "and whatever comes of it, be sure that I shall feel grateful to you, and shall not blame you for not having been able to do what was impossible. I hope my friends may come tomorrow, for, whatever my fate may be, anything is better than uncertainty."
"May Allah protect you!" the woman said, with a sob; "and go now. I hear Mahmud calling me."
Chapter 12: The Battle Of Atbara
Gregory had little sleep that night. It was clear to him that there was absolutely no chance of making his escape. Even were his two guards withdrawn, it would not improve his position. He had no means of disguise, and even if he had an Arab dress and could stain his face, he could not hope to make his way through the crowds of sleeping men, the pitfalls and trenches, and pass out through the jealously guarded zareba. There was nothing, for him, but to wait till the end.
He could not blame Mahmud. A leader on the eve of a great battle could not, for the sake of a single captive, risk his influence and oppose the wishes of his followers. It was much that he had, for his wife's sake, postponed the fulfilment of his oath; and had so long withstood the wishes of his most influential emirs. More could not be expected. At any rate, he was better off than others who had been in the same position. He had not, so far as he knew, a relation in the world–no one who would be anywise affected by his death; and at least he would have the satisfaction of knowing that it was a kind action which had brought him to his end. He prayed earnestly, not that his life might be spared, but that his death might be a painless one; and that he might meet it as an English officer should, without showing signs of fear.
The next day he heard orders given, and a great stir in camp; and he gathered, from those who passed near the tent, that the enemy's cavalry were again approaching; and that the mounted men were to ride out and cut them off from retreating, while the dismounted men were to pour out and annihilate them. Then, for a time, all was silence in the camp.
Suddenly an outburst of shouts and cries broke out and, almost simultaneously, he heard the rattle of Maxim guns–the fight had begun. Would the Egyptian horsemen stand firm, or would they give way to panic? If they broke and fled, none whatever would return to their camp through the host of Baggara horsemen.
For a time, the roll of the fire from the machine guns was incessant. Then there was a pause. Two or three minutes later it broke out again, but it was evidently somewhat farther off; and so it went on, with intervals of silence, but ever getting farther away. It was clear that the horsemen had not been able to bring the cavalry to a standstill, and that these were steadily falling back, covered by the fire of the Maxims. At last the sound grew faint in the distance and, soon afterwards, the noise in the camp showed that the infantry were returning.
It was not till two hours later that he heard the mounted men ride in; and gathered, from the talk outside, that they had lost nearly two hundred men, and had been unable to prevent the Egyptian cavalry from returning to camp. Towards evening he heard angry talking, and could distinguish Mahmud's voice. Then the blanket was pulled off its supports, and two men ordered him to follow them.
This was doubtless the end, and he nerved himself for what was to come; and, with head erect and a steady face, he accompanied the men to the front of Mahmud's tent. The chief was standing, with frowning face; and several Emirs were gathered in front of him, while a number of tribesmen stood a short distance away.
"Now," Mahmud said, "let one of you speak."
One of the Emirs stepped forward.
"I, Osman Digna, demand that this infidel be put to death. His countrymen have slain many of my men, and yours."
Feeling now that Mahmud, after doing his best, had ceased to struggle for him, and that his death was certain, Gregory took a step forward towards the speaker, and said scornfully:
"So you are Osman Digna! I am one of the first of my countrymen to see your face, though many have seen your back, at a distance."
Instead of provoking a pistol shot, as he had intended, his remark was followed by a roar of laughter from the emirs; for Osman's cowardice was a byword among them, and his nickname was "One who always runs."
Osman, indeed, had put his hand on the stock of one of the pistols in his belt, but Mahmud said imperiously:
"The man's life is mine, not yours, Osman Digna. If you shoot him, I shoot you!"
The fearlessness of the lad had pleased the other emirs; for, recklessly brave themselves, the Baggara appreciated and esteemed courage and honour. One of the others said:
"This is a brave young fellow and, infidels as his people are, we admit that they are brave. Were it for ourselves only, we would say let him live, until we see what comes of it. But our people complain. They say his folk, with whom we had no quarrel, come here and aid the Egyptians against us. They slew many yesterday. It is not right that this man should be living among us, when his countrymen are fighting against us."
There was a murmur of assent among the others, then Mahmud spoke.
"I have promised that he should not be killed, unless by order of the Khalifa. But this I will do: he shall be placed in the front rank. If Allah wills it, he will be killed by the bullets of his countrymen. If, when the fight is over, he is unharmed, you shall all agree that the matter be left for the Khalifa to decide. But, mind, I wash my hands of his death. On the eve of a battle, it is not for me to set my wishes above those of my emirs and my tribesmen; and I yield to your demands, because it is necessary that all be of one mind. If he is killed, which surely he will be, unless Allah protects him, his blood be upon your heads!"
He waved his hand, and the men came forward and again took Gregory to his tent.
The latter was well contented with the decision that he should be killed. He had no doubt that, at least, his death would be swift and sudden; he would not be speared, or cut to pieces with knives. He would see his countrymen advancing. He would know that he would be speedily avenged.
Two days passed, when the news came that the Egyptians had advanced to Umdabieh, seven miles nearer; and, on the following morning, the Dervish camp was disturbed early. There was joy in every face, and renewed vigour in the bearing of the men. Scouting Dervishes had brought in word that the infidels had marched, during the night, and were now halting but a mile and a half away.
The hour had come, at last. They were confident in themselves, and their trust in their leader was renewed. The fight, two days before, had shown them that the guns of the white men were terrible on the plain; and that it was, after all, wise to await them in the position which had been made impregnable, and against which the foe would hurl themselves in vain; then they were to pour out, and annihilate them.
The slave came to Gregory's tent, at daybreak.
"Fatma is praying to Allah for your safety," he said.
There was no time for more, for already the tents were being pulled down, and soon the women were hurried away to the rear. Four men surrounded Gregory, and led him to the edge of the camp, and there fastened him to the stump of a tree that had been cut off six feet from the ground, the upper portion being used in the construction of the zareba. Ten or twelve men were similarly fastened, in a line with him. These had been detected in trying to sneak away.
Gregory had not seen anything of the camp before and, as he was taken along, he was astounded at the amount of work that had been done. Everywhere the ground was pitted with deep holes, capable of sheltering from fifteen to twenty men. The hedge was a high one, and was formed for the most part of prickly bushes. The position was, indeed, a formidable one; manned, as it was, by nearly twenty thousand desperate fighters.
At six o'clock the first gun was fired; and, for an hour and a half, the camp was swept with shell, shrapnel, and Maxim bullets. Most of the Baggara were lying in the pits. Many, however, walked about calmly, as if in contempt of the fire. More than half of the wretched men bound to the trees were killed.
At last the fire of the guns slackened and, on the crest of the position, in a semicircle round the wood, a long line of steadily marching men appeared. The assault was about to begin.
The Dervishes sprang from their hiding places, and lined the trenches behind the zareba. The troops halted, and waited. The Maxims moved in front of the British brigade, and then opened fire. A bugle sounded, and the whole line, black and white, advanced like a wall. When within three hundred yards, the men knelt down and opened fire, in volleys of sections. At the same instant the Dervishes, with difficulty restrained until now, opened fire in return.
The Maxims, and the storm of British bullets swept the wood, filling the air with a shower of falling leaves. Gregory murmured a prayer, shut his eyes, and awaited death.
Suddenly he felt his ropes slacken and fall from him, and a voice said, "Drop on your face, master!"
Almost mechanically he obeyed, too astonished even to think what was happening; then a body fell across him.
"Lie still and don't move, master. They must think you are dead."
"Is it you, Zaki?" Gregory said, scarcely able, even now, to believe that it was his faithful follower.
"It is I, master. I have been in the camp three days, and have never had a chance of getting near you, before."
"Brave fellow! good friend!" Gregory said, and then was silent.
Speech was almost inaudible, amid the roar of battle. The pipes of the Camerons could, however, be heard above the din. The men advanced steadily, in line, maintaining their excellent volley firing. The three other regiments, in close order, followed; bearing away farther to the right, so as to be able to open fire and advance. On that side the black regiments were advancing no less steadily, and the half brigade of Egyptians were as eager as any. Steadily and well under control, all pushed forward at a run; firing occasionally, but thirsting to get hand to hand with those who had desolated their land, destroyed their villages, and slain their friends.
The British were suffering, but the blacks suffered more; for the volleys of the Camerons kept down the fire of those opposed to them, better than the irregular fire of the Soudanese. The latter, however, first reached the zareba; and, regardless of thorns or of fire, dashed through it with triumphant shouts, and fell upon the defenders.
It was but a minute or two later that the Camerons reached the hedge. Formidable as it looked, it took them but a short time to tear down gaps, through which they rushed; while close behind them the Seaforths, the Lincolns, and the Warwicks were all in, bursting through the low stockade and trenches behind it, and cheering madly.
Now, from their holes and shelters, the Dervishes started up. Brave though they were, the storm that had burst upon them with such suddenness scared them, and none attempted to arrest the course of the Highlanders and red coats. Firing as they ran, the Dervishes made for the river. Many remained in their pits till the last, firing at the soldiers as they rushed past, and meeting their death at the point of the bayonet.
Hotly the troops pursued, often falling into the pits, which were half hidden by thorns and long grass. There was no attempt at regularity in these holes–nothing to show where they were. It was a wild and confused combat. The officers kept their men as well together as it was possible, on such ground; but it was sharp work, for from flank and rear, as well as in front, the shots rang out from their hidden foes, and these had to be despatched as they pushed forward.
As the troops burst through, Gregory sprang to his feet, seized a rifle that had dropped from the hands of a Dervish who had fallen close by and–shouting to Zaki "Lie still as if dead!"–joined the first line of troops. No questions were asked. Every man's attention was fixed on the work before him, and no thought was given to this white officer, who sprang from they knew not where. He had no cartridges, and the Dervishes did not carry bayonets; but, holding the rifle club-wise, he kept in the front line, falling into pits and climbing out again, engaged more than once with desperate foemen.
Striking and shouting, he fought on until the troops reached the river bank; and, having cleared all before them, poured volleys into the mass of fugitives crossing its dry bed. Other hordes were seen away to the left, similarly driven out by Lewis's Egyptians, by whom a terrible fire was kept up until the last of the fugitives disappeared in the scrub on the opposite bank, leaving the river bed thickly dotted with dead bodies; while, on the right, Macdonald's and Maxwell's blacks similarly cleared the wood.
Then the Soudanese and whites alike burst into cheers. Men shook each other by the hand, while they waved their helmets over their heads. The Soudanese leapt and danced like delighted children. Presently an officer left a group of others, who had been congratulating each other on their glorious victory, and came up to Gregory.
"May I ask who you are, sir?" he said, courteously but coldly.
"Certainly, sir. My name is Hilliard. I have been a captive in the hands of the Dervishes; who, when you attacked, tied me to the stump of a tree as a target for your bullets; and I should certainly have been killed, had not a faithful servant of mine, a black, taken the opportunity, when the Dervishes rushed into the trenches and opened fire upon you, to cut my ropes.
"I have no doubt, sir," he went on, as he saw the officer look somewhat doubtful, "that General Hunter is here. I am known personally to him, and served for a time on his staff."
"That is quite sufficient," the officer said, more cordially. "I congratulate you on your escape. I confess it astonished us all, when a strange white officer, whom none of us knew, suddenly joined us. You will find General Hunter somewhere over on the left. He is certain to have led the charge of the Soudanese."
"Thank you! I will go and find him; but first, I must return to where I left my man. He had, of course, the Mahdist's patch on his clothes; and I told him to lie still, as if dead, till I came for him; as, in the melee, it would have been impossible for me to have protected him."
Gregory found Zaki still lying where he left him, head downward and arms thrown forward; in so good an imitation of death that he feared, for a moment, the lad had been shot after he left him. At the sound of his master's voice, however, the native sprang to his feet.
"You have saved my life, Zaki," Gregory said, taking his hand. "I must have fallen–every man tied to a tree is, as you see, dead; but before we say anything else, cut that patch off your clothes, or you might be shot as a Dervish by the first man you come across.
"Keep close to me. I am going to General Hunter. At present, I know none of the officers of the white regiments. When I get among the Soudanese, I shall be more at home."
In ten minutes, he came to where General Hunter was speaking to the Sirdar. Gregory stopped at a short distance, before the general's eyes fell upon him, and he gave an exclamation of pleasure.
"That is Hilliard, General; the young fellow who jumped from one of the gunboats, off Metemmeh, to rescue the woman. The act was unnoticed at the time, but a black he had with him was released, and brought word that his master was a prisoner in their camp."
"I heard of it, at the time," the Sirdar said, and motioned to Gregory to come up. "I am glad to find that you have escaped the fate we feared had befallen you, but your action was altogether wrong. An officer's life is no longer his own, but belongs to the country he serves; and you had no right whatever to risk it when on duty, even in an action which, at any other time, would do you great credit."
He spoke sharply and sternly. Gregory again saluted.
"I knew afterwards that I had done wrong, sir; but I did not stop to think, and acted on the impulse of the moment."
"That may be," the Sirdar said; "but officers should think, and not act on the impulse of the moment."
Gregory again saluted, and fell back. Three or four minutes later, the two generals separated. General Hunter came up to him, and shook him warmly by the hand.
"You must not mind what the Sirdar said, Hilliard. It was a very noble action, and did you credit, and I can assure you that that was the opinion of all who knew you; but to the Sirdar, you know, duty is everything, and I think you are lucky in not being sent down, at once, to the base. However, he said to me, after you had left him:
"'I shall be too busy this evening, but bring the young fellow with you, tomorrow evening. I must hear how it was that Mahmud spared him.'
"I told him that I understood, from your black, that the woman was Mahmud's favourite wife, and that she took you under her care.
"By the way, have you heard that Mahmud is captured? Yes, he is caught, which is a great satisfaction to us; for his being sent down, a prisoner, will convince the tribesmen that we have gained a victory, as to which they would otherwise be incredulous. I hear that the Egyptian brigade, which was to the extreme left, has captured Mahmud's wife, and a great number of women."
"With your permission, sir, I will go over there at once, and ask Colonel Lewis that she may receive specially good treatment. She has been extremely kind to me, and it is to her influence over Mahmud that I owe my life. Up to this morning Mahmud would have spared me, but Osman Digna insisted that I should be killed, and he was obliged to give way. They fastened me to a tree behind the trench, just inside the zareba, and I should certainly have been killed by our own musketry fire, had not my boy, who had come into the camp in disguise, cut my cords. I fell as if shot, and he threw himself down on me; until the Camerons burst in, when I at once joined them, and did what little I could in the fight."
"I will give you a line to Colonel Lewis, to tell him that Mahmud's wife, whom you will point out, is to be treated with respect; and that her people may be allowed to make her an arbour of some sort, until the Sirdar decides what is to be done with her. Probably she will be sent down to Berber. No doubt we shall all fall back."
"Then you will not pursue, sir?"
"No. The cavalry have already gone off in pursuit of their horsemen, but they are not likely to catch them; for we hear that Osman Digna is with them, and he seems to enjoy a special immunity from capture. As for the other poor beggars, we could not do it if we wanted to. I expect the campaign is over, for the present. Certainly, nothing can be done till the railway is completed; then the gunboats can tow the native craft, abreast of us, as we march along the river bank.
"Shendy has been captured, and we found twelve thousand Jaalin prisoners there, women and children, and a large quantity of stores. That is what makes the position of the Dervish fugitives so hopeless. There is nothing before them but to find their way across the desert to Omdurman, and I fancy that few of them will get there alive.
"No doubt some will keep along by the Atbara, and others by the Nile. The latter will have the best chance, for the friendlies at Kassala will be on the lookout for fugitives. I am sorry for the poor wretches, though they richly deserve the worst that can befall them. They have never shown mercy. For twenty years they have murdered, plundered, and desolated the whole land, and have shown themselves more ferocious and merciless than wild beasts."
He took out his pocketbook, wrote the order to Colonel Lewis; and then, tearing the leaf out, handed it to Gregory, who at once made his way, followed closely by Zaki, to the spot where two Egyptian battalions had halted. They had no difficulty in finding Colonel Lewis, who was receiving a report, from the officers of the two battalions, of the casualties they had sustained. Gregory had met the Colonel several times, at Berber, and the latter recognized him at once.
"Ah! Major Hilliard," that officer said, as he came up; "I am glad to see you. I heard that you had been captured by the Dervishes, and killed; but I suppose, as I see you here, that it was only the usual canard."
"No, sir. I was captured; but, as you see, not killed, though it has been a pretty close thing. This is a note, sir, that General Hunter requested me to give you."
Colonel Lewis read the order.
"The women are down over there, a couple of hundred yards away," he said. "I will send a sergeant and four men with you. If you will point out Mahmud's wife, I will see that she is made as comfortable as possible."
"Thank you, sir! It is to her I owe my life, and I am most anxious to do all I can to repay the debt."
"You came along through the other brigades. Do you know what their losses have been?"
"The British losses are not heavy, sir, considering the fire they have been exposed to. Macdonald's brigade suffered most, I believe."
"Yes; I saw one of the officers just now. It seems they came down upon Mahmud's picked bodyguard, and these fought desperately. They found Mahmud in the usual attitude in which the Dervish emirs await death, when they are conquered. He was sitting quietly on his mat, with his arms laid down beside him; and was, I should imagine, somewhat surprised at finding that he was not cut to pieces, at once."
"I am glad he was not, sir, for he certainly behaved well to me. It was through the influence of his wife, I admit; but in sparing me he really risked serious disaffection among his followers, and at last gave way only to coercion."
The sergeant and men had now come up, and Gregory went off with them. Three or four hundred women were seated on the ground together, with half a dozen Egyptian soldiers standing as sentry over them. More or less closely veiled as they were, Gregory could not distinguish Fatma among them; and indeed, except when he first reached her in the water, he had not got a glimpse of her features. The question, however, was speedily settled when a woman rose, in the middle of the group, with a cry of gladness.
"So you are saved!" she exclaimed, "I have feared so that you were killed. Have you news of Mahmud?"
"Yes, lady. He is a prisoner, but well and unharmed. I have obtained an order, from the General, that you are to be treated with honours, as his wife. We cannot do much for you, at present, but all that is possible will be done. I have represented your kindness to me, and these soldiers will at once erect an arbour for you, and food will be brought for you all, as soon as matters have settled down a little."
The Egyptian soldiers had already begun to cut down saplings. Accustomed as they were to the work, in half an hour they had erected an arbour. Fatma was then assisted into it, with the other women of the harem. The sergeant gave orders, to the sentries, that no one was to be allowed to interfere in any way with them; and then Gregory took his leave, saying that he would return, later on.
He again joined General Hunter, who seemed to be his natural chief, now that his service in the gunboat was over.
The list of casualties was now being brought in. The Camerons, who had led the attack in line, had lost most heavily. They had fifteen killed and forty-six wounded, among them being two officers killed, and one mortally wounded. The Seaforths had one officer killed and one mortally wounded, and four others less severely; in all, six killed and twenty-seven wounded. The Lincolns had one killed and eighteen wounded; the Warwicks two killed and eighteen wounded. Many of the wounded afterwards died.
The Egyptians had lost more heavily. The casualties among them were fifty-seven killed; and four British and sixteen native officers, and three hundred and sixty-seven non-commissioned officers and men, wounded.
The Dervish loss was terrible. Three thousand men were killed, among whom were nearly all the emirs; and two thousand were taken prisoners. The rest were hopeless fugitives, and a vast number of these must have been wounded.
There was but a short rest for the troops. When the wounded had been collected, and carried to a neighbouring palm grove, where the surgeons did all that could then be done for them; and the trophies of the fight–banners and spears, guns of all sorts, swords and knives–had been gathered, principally by the exultant Soudanese and Egyptians, the force prepared for a start.
"May I ask, General, what is to be done with the women?" Gregory said.
"I have been speaking to the Sirdar about them, and I was just going to ask you to go with me to them. They are, of course, not to be considered as prisoners. They cannot stay here, for they would die of hunger. Therefore they had best follow the troops, at any rate as far as the Atbara camp. They will have food given them, and must then decide for themselves what they are to do. It is a difficult question, altogether. The only thing that can, at present, be settled is that they mustn't be allowed to die of hunger, and they must be protected against molestation.
"The troops will march at four o'clock. The Egyptian brigade have volunteered to carry the wounded. They will start later. The women had better follow them. No doubt, some of them will find their husbands among the prisoners, so that there will be no trouble about them."
"What will be done with the men, sir?"
The General smiled.
"Tomorrow they will probably enlist in our service, to a man, and will fight just as sturdily as the other Soudanese battalions, against their brethren in Khartoum. All the prisoners we have hitherto taken who are fit for the work have done so; and, as has been shown today, are just as ready to fight on our side as they were against us. They are a fighting people, and it is curious how they become attached to their white officers, whom formerly they hated as infidels."
When the matter was explained to them, the women accepted the situation with the resignation that is natural to the Mahometan woman. Gregory was able to assure Fatma that, in a short time, she would undoubtedly be allowed to join Mahmud, and accompany him wherever he was sent.
"But will they not kill him?" she said.
"We never kill prisoners. Even the bitterest enemy that may fall into our hands is well treated. Mahmud will doubtless be sent down to Cairo, and it will then be settled where he is to be taken to; but you may be sure that, wherever it may be, he will be well treated and cared for."
"In that case, I shall be happy," she said. "When you saved me, I saw that the ways of you Christians were better than our ways. Now I see it still more. To be always raiding, and plundering, and killing cannot be good. It used to seem to me natural and right, but I have come to think differently."
At four o'clock the troops marched. At Gregory's request, he was allowed to remain behind and accompany the Egyptians. He had bought for a few shillings, from the soldiers, a dozen donkeys that had been found alive in some of the pits. These he handed over to Fatma, for her conveyance and that of the wives of some of the emirs, who were of the party.
