Henty George Alfred
With Kitchener in the Soudan: A Story of Atbara and Omdurman
The troops then turned their attention to the men who, lying in shelter, were still maintaining their fire. There were fully a thousand of these, and the greater portion of our casualties took place from their fire, while the troops were occupied in repelling the main attack. It was not long, however, before bullets and shell proved too much for them; and those who survived crawled away, to join their kinsmen behind the hills.
It was eight o'clock now, and the victory had apparently been won. Some ten thousand of the Khalifa's best troops had been killed or wounded. In the British division, one officer and one man had been killed, and three officers and sixty-five men wounded. The latter were at once placed on board the hospital barges. Fresh ammunition was served out and, half an hour after the last shot was fired, the army prepared to march on Omdurman.
It was most important that they should arrive at the town before Ed Din's Dervishes should reach it; for unless they could do so, the loss that would be incurred in capturing it would be vastly greater than that which had been suffered in the battle. At nine o'clock the start was made. The troops advanced in brigades. Lyttleton led on the left, Wauchope was on his right, Maxwell somewhat in the rear, while still more to the right came Lewis, and farther out on the plain Macdonald. They formed roughly half a semicircle. Lyttleton, followed by Wauchope, was to march between the river and Surgham Hill. Maxwell was to cross over the hill, while Lewis and Macdonald were to keep farther out to the right. Collinson's Egyptian brigade was to guard the stores and materials left behind.
The 21st Lancers scouted ahead of the British brigades, to discover if any foe were lurking behind Surgham Hill. When about half a mile south of the hill, they saw a small party of Dervish cavalry and some infantry, who were hiding in what looked like a shallow water course. The four squadrons rode forward at a gallop. A sharp musketry fire opened upon them, but without hesitation they dashed headlong at the Dervishes, when they found that, instead of a hundred and fifty foemen as they had supposed, some fifteen hundred Dervishes were lying concealed in the water course.
It was too late to draw rein, and with a cheer the cavalry rode down into the midst of the foe. There was a wild, fierce fight, lance against spear, sabre against sword, the butt-end of a rifle or the deadly knife. Some cut their way through unscathed. Others were surrounded and cut off. Splendid feats of heroism were performed. Many of those who got over returned to rescue officers or comrades, until at last all the survivors climbed the bank.
The brunt of the fighting fell upon the two central squadrons. Not only were the enemy thickest where they charged, but the opposite bank of the deep nullah was composed of rough boulders, almost impassable by horses. These squadrons lost sixteen killed and nineteen wounded. Altogether, twenty-two officers and men were killed, and fifty wounded; and there were one hundred and nineteen casualties among the horses.
Once across, the survivors gathered at a point where their fire commanded the water course; and, dismounting, speedily drove the Dervishes from it. On examining it afterwards, it was found that sixty dead Dervishes lay where the central squadrons had cut their way through.
The charge, in its daring and heroism, resembled that of the 23rd Light Dragoons at Talavera. The fall into the ravine, on that occasion, was much deeper than that into which the Lancers dashed; but it was not occupied by a desperate force, and although many were injured by the fall, it was in their subsequent charge, against a whole French division, that they were almost annihilated.
Both incidents were, like the Balaclava charge, magnificent; but they were not war. A desperate charge, to cover the retreat of a defeated army, is legitimate and worthy of all praise, even if the gallant men who make it are annihilated; but this was not the case at Talavera, nor at Omdurman. It was a brilliant but a costly mistake. The bravery shown was superb, and the manner in which officers and men rode back into the struggling mass, to rescue comrades, beyond all praise; but the charge should never have been made, and the lives were uselessly sacrificed.
As yet, all was quiet at other points. Bodies of the enemy could be seen, making their way towards Omdurman. The battery opposite the town had, from early morning, been keeping up a fire from its heavy guns upon it; but, save for the occasional shot of a lurking Dervish, all was quiet elsewhere.
While the cavalry charge was in progress, Gregory had moved along the line of the Egyptian brigades with General Hunter. Suddenly, from behind the hills where the Khalifa had fallen back with his defeated army, a column of fully twelve thousand men, led by the banner bearers and emirs, poured out again. A strong body sprang forward from another valley, and made for the southeastern corner of Macdonald's brigade, which had moved almost due west from the position it had occupied in the zareba; while the large force that had chased away the Egyptian cavalry were seen, returning to attack him in the rear.
General Hunter, who was riding between Macdonald's and Lewis's brigades, which were now a good mile apart, exclaimed to Gregory, who happened to be the nearest officer to him:
"Ride to Macdonald, and tell him to fall back, if possible!"
Then he turned, and galloped off to fetch up reinforcements. But the need was already seen. The sudden uproar had attracted the attention of the whole army, and the Sirdar instantly grasped the situation. The moment was indeed critical. If Macdonald's brigade were overwhelmed, it might have meant a general disaster; and the Sirdar at once sent orders to Wauchope's brigade, to go, at the double, to Macdonald's aid.
Fortunately Colonel Long, who commanded the artillery, had sent three batteries with Macdonald's brigade. Collinson's brigade were far away near the river, Lewis's were themselves threatened. It was evident, at once, that no assistance could reach Macdonald in time. When Gregory reached him, the Dervishes were already approaching.
"It cannot be done," Macdonald said sternly, when Gregory delivered the message. "We must fight!"
Indeed, to retreat would have meant destruction. The fire would have been ineffective, and the thirty thousand fierce foes would have been among them. There was nothing to do but to fight.
Macdonald had marched out with the 11th Soudanese on his left, the 2nd Egyptians in the centre, and the 10th Soudanese on the right–all in line. Behind, in column, were the 9th Soudanese. The last were at once brought up into line, to face the advancing enemy.
Fortunately, the Sheik Ed Din's force was still some little distance away. The batteries took their place in the openings between the battalions, and the Maxim-Nordenfeldts were soon carrying death into the advancing foe; while the Martini-Henry, with which the black and Egyptian troops were armed, mowed them down as by a scythe. The Soudanese battalions fired, as was their custom, individually, as fast as they could load; the Egyptian battalion by steady volleys.
Still the enemy pressed on, until they were within two hundred yards of the line. The emirs and other leaders, Baggara horse and many spearmen, still held on; until they fell, a few feet only from the steady infantry. The rear ranks of the Dervishes now began to fall back, and the desperate charges of their leaders grew feebler; but Ed Din's division was now within a thousand yards. Macdonald, confident that the main attack was broken, threw back the 9th Soudanese to face it, and wheeled a couple of his batteries to support them.
The already retreating Dervishes, encouraged by the arrival of Ed Din's division, returned to the attack. The 11th Soudanese swung round, to aid the 9th in their struggle with Ed Din's troops. The charges of the Dervishes were impetuous in the extreme. Regardless of the storm of shell and bullets they rushed on, and would have thrust themselves between the 9th and 11th, had not the 2nd Egyptians, wheeling at the double, thrown themselves into the gap.
The Dervishes pressed right up to them, and bayonet and spear frequently crossed; but in a fight of this kind, discipline tells its tale. The blacks and Egyptians maintained their lines, steadily and firmly; and against these, individual effort and courage, even of the highest quality, were in vain.
The ground being now cleared, the gunboats opened with Maxim and cannon upon the rear of the Dervishes. The camel corps coming up, each man dismounted and added his fire to the turmoil; and, finally, three of Wauchope's battalions arrived, and the Lincolns, doubling to the right, opened a terrible flank fire. The Dervishes broke and fled; not, as usual, sullenly and reluctantly, but at full speed, stooping low to escape the storm of bullets that pursued them.
Zaki had, throughout the day, kept close to Gregory, ready to hold his horse when he dismounted; but, quick-footed as he was, he was left behind when his master galloped across to Macdonald. He was up, however, in the course of a minute or two, and Gregory was glad to see him, for the horse was kicking and plunging at the roar of the approaching enemy; and was almost maddened when to this was added the crash of the batteries and musketry.
"Put my blanket round his head, Zaki," Gregory said, when the black ran up. "Wrap it round so that he cannot see. Hold the bridle with one hand, and stroke him with the other, and keep on talking to him; he knows your voice. I don't want to dismount if I can help it, for with my field glasses I see everything that is taking place, and I will tell you how matters are going."
For the moment, it seemed as if the surging crowd streaming down must carry all before it; but the steadiness with which the 9th Soudanese moved into their place on the flank of the line, and the other regiments remained, as if on parade, soon reassured him. The terrible slaughter that was taking place in the ranks of the Dervishes soon showed that, in that quarter at least, there was no fear of things going wrong; but he could not but look anxiously towards the great mass of men approaching from the north.
It was a matter of minutes. Would the present attack be repulsed in time for the position to be changed, to meet the coming storm? Occasionally, Gregory looked back to see if reinforcements were coming. Wauchope's brigade was visible over the tops of the scattered bushes. The movements of the line showed that they were coming on at the double, but they were farther away than Ed Din's host, and the latter were running like deer.
He felt a deep sense of relief when the 9th Soudanese were thrown back, performing the movement as quietly and steadily as if on a drill ground; and two batteries of artillery galloped across to their support. He had hardly expected such calm courage from the black battalion. As to the bravery of the Soudanese troops, there was no question. They were of the same blood and race as their foes, and had shown how bravely they could fight in many a previous battle; but he was not prepared for the steady way in which they worked, under such novel circumstances; and although they, too, must have known that every moment was of consequence, they moved without haste or hurry into the new position, scarcely glancing at the torrent which was rushing on towards them.
Not less steadily and quietly did the 11th, considered to be the crack regiment of the brigade, swing round; and as calmly and firmly did the Egyptian battalion–composed of the peasants who, but twenty years before, had been considered among the most cowardly of people, a host of whom would have fled before a dozen of the dreaded Dervishes–march into the gap between the two black regiments, and manfully hold their own.
And yet, he could not but feel sorry for the valiant savages who, under so awful a fire, still pressed forward to certain death; their numbers withering away at every step, until they dwindled to nothing, only to be replaced by a fresh band, which darted forward to meet a similar fate; and yet, when he remembered the wholesale slaughter at Metemmeh, the annihilation of countless villages and of their inhabitants, and, above all, the absolute destruction of the army of Hicks Pasha, the capture of Khartoum, the murder of Gordon, and the reduction to a state of slavery of all the peaceful tribes of the Soudan, he could not but feel that the annihilation of these human tigers, and the wiping out of their false creed, was a necessity.
When the last shot was fired, he dismounted and leant against his horse, completely unnerved by the tremendous excitement that had been compressed into the space of half an hour. Zaki was in ecstasy at the victory. The ruthless massacre of so many of his tribesmen, the ruin of his native village, and the murder of his relations was avenged, at last. The reign of the Dervishes was over. Henceforth men could till their fields in peace. It was possible that, even yet, he might find his mother and sisters still alive, in the city but a few miles away, living in wretched existence as slaves of their captors.
Tears of joy streamed down his cheeks. He would have liked to help to revenge the wrongs of his tribe, but his master needed him; and moreover, there was no place for an untrained man in the ranks of the Soudanese regiments. They were doing their work better than he could. Still, it was the one bitter drop in his intense joy, that he had not been able to aid in the conflict.
He expressed this to Gregory.
"You have had your share in the fight, Zaki, just as I have had. I have not fired a shot, but I have been in the battle, and run its risks, and so have you. Each of us has done his duty, and we can say, for the rest of our lives, that we have borne our share in the great battle that has smashed up the power of the Khalifa, and the rule of the Dervishes."
Chapter 15: Khartoum
There was no pause or rest for the troops who had been fighting, for so many hours, in the heat of the African sun. It was all important to occupy Omdurman before the remnants of the Khalifa's army reached it; and as it was known that the Khalifa himself had returned there, it was hoped that he might be captured.
It was ten o'clock when Macdonald's brigade fired their last shot. In half an hour, the troops went forward again. The field presented a terrible appearance, being thickly dotted with dead, from the Surgham Hill across the plain; and round, by the Kerreri Hills, to the spot where Macdonald's brigade had made their stand. There were comparatively few wounded; for, wiry and hardy as they were, the wounded Dervishes, unless mortally hit, were for the most part able to crawl or walk away; which they had done unmolested, for on each occasion after the bugle sounded cease firing, not a shot was fired at them. But of dead there were fully ten thousand, scattered more or less thickly over the plain.
From the position in which they were placed, the Egyptian troops, as they marched south, passed the spot where the Khalifa's flag was still flying, as it had been left after its last defenders had fallen. Slatin, who was with the army, rode over the plain at the Sirdar's request, to ascertain if any of the Dervish leaders were among the fallen. He recognized many, but the Khalifa, his son Ed Din, and Osman Digna were not among them. The last-named had ever been chary of exposing himself, and had probably, as was his custom, viewed the battle from a safe distance. But round the flag were the Khalifa's brother, Yacoub, and ten or twelve of the leading emirs.
On our side, the loss had been comparatively light. Our total number of casualties, including the wounded, was five hundred and twenty-four; towards which Macdonald's brigade contributed one hundred and twenty-eight. Marching steadily on, the force halted in the outlying suburb of Omdurman, at midday, to obtain much needed food and water. As soon as the cavalry had watered their horses, they were sent round to the south of the town to cut off fugitives, and some of the gunboats moved up to their support.
Deputations of the townsfolk, Greeks and natives, came out and offered to surrender. They said that the Khalifa was in his house, and that he had about a thousand of his bodyguard with him, but that they could not offer any successful resistance. The town was full of fugitive Dervishes; many thousands of them were there–among them a great number of wounded.
At half past four the Sirdar, with his staff, entered the town; accompanied by Maxwell's Egyptian brigade. Only a few shots were fired. The Dervish courage was broken. It was to the followers of the Prophet, and not to the infidels, that the plains of Kerreri had proved fatal. It was their bodies, and not those of the white soldiers, that were strewn there so thickly. The promise of the Khalifa had been falsified, the tomb of the Mahdi was crumbling into ruins, the bravest of their troops had fallen–what more was there to be done?
As Slatin Pasha rode in at the head of the troops, he was instantly recognized by the people, among whom, for years, he had been a prisoner; and on his assurances that mercy would be shown to all, if there was no resistance, numbers of the Dervishes came out from their houses and huts, and laid down their arms.
The women flocked out into the streets, uttering their long and quavering cries of welcome. To them the entry of the British was a relief from a living death, as almost all were captives taken in war, or in the Dervish raids upon quiet villages. They could scarce even yet believe that they were free–that their tyrants were slain or fugitives.
Intense was the surprise and relief of the population, when they were told that there would be no looting–no harm done to any by the conquerors; that all would be free, if they chose, to depart to their homes, and to take their few belongings with them.
The scene in the town was awful–the stench overpowering! The Dervishes were absolutely ignorant of all sanitary methods–pools of the foulest slush abounded, and thousands of dead animals, in all stages of decomposition, lay about the streets. Among them were numerous dead bodies, principally of girls and women, who had been killed by their brutal husbands or masters, to prevent them from falling into the hands of the British. There were also many dead Dervishes, and others desperately wounded.
Strangely enough, the latter did not seem to regard their victorious enemy with the hate that had been exhibited by many of the wounded in the field; and some of them half raised themselves, and saluted the Sirdar and his staff as they passed along.
Presently, there was a commotion in the crowd. The wall of the great granary had been breached, by some of the lyddite shells, and the grain had poured out into the street. The natives near ran up to gather it; and, finding that they were not molested by the British, the news spread rapidly. The crowds in the streets melted away; and the inhabitants, for the most part half starved, made a mad rush to the spot, where in a short time many thousands of men, women, and children were hard at work, gathering and carrying off the grain.
In the meantime the Sirdar, with a party of Maxwell's brigade, passed along by the side of the great wall enclosing the buildings, and square mile of ground, in which were the Khalifa's house, the tomb of the Mahdi, the arsenal, storehouses, and the homes of the principal emirs.
As soon as they had turned the corner of the wall, in view of the tomb and the Khalifa's house, a brisk fire was opened by the garrison. Fortunately, the wall was not loopholed, and they had to get on the top of it, or on to the flat roofs of the houses, to fire. Maxwell's men soon silenced them, and on the troops passing in through the breaches, and along the wall, most of the Dervishes at once surrendered.
For a time, further advance was barred by an inner wall, that still intervened between them and the Khalifa's house. After the gunboats' fire had cleared away a number of the Dervishes clustered outside the south wall, the Sirdar and his staff entered by a gateway, and moved towards the Khalifa's house. This was searched by Slatin Pasha, and several officers and soldiers; but, to the general disappointment, it was found that the Khalifa had escaped but a short time before, carrying with him his treasure; his wives having been sent off, as soon as he returned from the field of battle.
The Mahdi's tomb was a ruin. A large portion of the dome had been knocked away, and the falling fragments had smashed the iron railings that surrounded the tomb, itself.
There was nothing more to be done. The pursuit of the Khalifa, mounted, as he would be, on fresh horses, was out of the question. It was already almost dark, and men and horses had been at work since before daybreak. The town was in a very disturbed state–large numbers of the Dervishes were still possessed of their arms, and the greater portion of the troops were withdrawn from the pestilential town. Next morning a larger force was marched in, and the work of disarmament completed.
The cavalry went out and scouted the country, and brought in large numbers of prisoners. The men belonging to the tribes that had renounced Mahdism–Jaalin and others–were at once allowed to leave for their homes; and numbers of others, whose appearance was peaceful, and who had at once given up their arms, were also released; but there were still no fewer than eleven thousand prisoners, among them some of the Khalifa's emirs.
Many of the townspeople had started, the previous evening, for the field of battle; to bury the bodies of their friends who had fallen, and to bring in the wounded. Of the latter, after our own men had been attended to, fully nine thousand received aid and attention from the British doctors.
On the morning after the occupation, the work of purification began. Great numbers of the unwounded prisoners, and of the townspeople, were set to work to clean the streets; and, in a couple of days, the wider thoroughfares and avenues had been thoroughly cleansed.
Having but little to do, Gregory went into the Khalifa's arsenal. This building was full of war material of all kinds; including a perfectly appointed battery of Krupp guns, numbers of old cannon, modern machine-guns, rifles and pistols; mixed up with musical instruments, suits of chain armour, steel helmets, hundreds of battle flags, and thousands of native spears, swords, and shields. Besides these the collection comprised ivory, percussion caps, lead, copper, and bronze, looms, pianos, sewing machines, boilers, steam engines, agricultural implements, ostrich feathers, wooden and iron bedsteads, paints, India rubber, leather water bottles, clothes, three state coaches, and an American buggy. There were also a modern smithy, where gunpowder, shell, bullets, and cartridge cases were made and stored; and a well-appointed engineers' shop and foundry, with several steam engines, turning lathes, and other tools. The machinery had been brought from Gordon's arsenal at Khartoum, where the foreman had been employed; and the workmen were, for the most part, Greeks.
The battle was fought on Friday, the 2nd of September. On Sunday a flotilla of boats, containing detachments from all the British and Egyptian regiments, and every officer who could be spared from duty, proceeded up the river to Khartoum. The ruined and deserted city looked delightful, after the sand, dirt, and wretchedness of Omdurman. The gardens of the governor's house, and other principal buildings, had run wild; and the green foliage was restful indeed, to the eye, after the waste of sand, rock, and scrub that had been traversed by the army on its way from Wady Halfa.
The vessels drew up opposite a grove of tall palms. Beyond them appeared what had been the government house. The upper story was gone, the windows were filled up with bricks, and a large acacia stood in front of the building.
The troops formed up before the palace, in three sides of a square–the Egyptians were to the left, looking from the river, and the British to the right–the Sirdar, and the generals of the divisions and brigades, facing the centre. Two flagstaffs had been raised on the upper story. The Sirdar gave the signal, and the British and Egyptian flags were run up. As they flew out, one of the gunboats fired a salute, the Guards' band struck up "God Save the Queen!" and the band of the 11th Soudanese then played the Khedive's hymn, while the Generals and all present stood in salute, with their hands to the peak of their helmets. The Sirdar's call for three cheers for the Queen was enthusiastically responded to, every helmet being raised. Similar cheers were then given for the Khedive, the bands again struck up, and twenty-one guns were fired.
As the last gun echoed out, the Guards played the Dead March, in Saul; and the black band the march called Toll for the Brave, the latter in memory of the Khedive's subjects, who had died with Gordon. Then minute guns were fired, and four chaplains–Anglican, Presbyterian, Methodist, and Catholic–by turns read a psalm or a prayer. The pipers then wailed a dirge, and finally the Soudanese bands played Gordon's favourite hymn, Abide with Me.
At the conclusion, General Hunter and the other officers shook hands with the Sirdar, one by one. Kitchener himself was deeply moved, and well he might be! Fourteen years of his life had been spent in preparing for, and carrying out, this campaign; and now the great task was done. Gordon was avenged. Of the Dervish host, the remnant were scattered fugitives. The Mahdi's cause, the foulest and most bloodstained tyranny that had ever existed, transforming as it did a flourishing province into an almost uninhabited desert, was crushed forever; and it was his patient and unsparing labour, his wonderful organization, that had been the main factor in the work. No wonder that even the Iron Sirdar almost broke down, at such a moment.
The bugles sounded, and the troops broke up their formation; and, for half an hour, wandered through the empty chambers of the palace, and the wild and beautiful garden. Another bugle call, and they streamed down to the water's edge, took to the boats, and returned to Omdurman.
The long-delayed duty, which England owed to one of her noblest sons, had been done. Gordon had had his burial. None knew where his bones reposed, but that mattered little. In the place where he was slain, all honour had been done to him; and the British flag waved over the spot where he disappeared, forever, from the sight of his countrymen.
On Gregory's return, he found Zaki in a state of the highest excitement.
"Why, what is the matter with you, Zaki?"
"Oh, master, I have found my two sisters!"
"That is good news, indeed. I am very glad to hear it, Zaki. How did you find them?"
"While you were away, Master, I had been walking through the town; and when I was passing near the outskirts, a woman came to a door, and looked very hard at me. Then she suddenly drew aside the cloth from her face and cried, 'Surely it is Zaki!'
"Then I knew her–she was my elder sister. Then another woman came to the door–it was my younger sister, and you can imagine my joy. Both had been married to Baggaras, who had carried them off. Their husbands had gone to the battle, and had not returned; and some neighbours who had gone to the battlefield, next day, brought back news that they had found both bodies; so one sister came to stay with the other. People had told them that it was safe to go out, and that no one was injured who did so; but they had a store of grain in the house, and they decided to wait and see what happened.
"One of them, seeing me come along, and observing that I belonged to the Jaalin, came out to ask me the news; and they were as delighted as I was, at our meeting."
"And your mother, do they know anything of her?"
"She was killed, Master," Zaki said sorrowfully. "I thought possibly it would be so. The Dervishes did not carry off old women. They killed them, and the little children. I had never hoped to see her again; but I did think, when we entered Omdurman, that my sisters might be here."
"What are they going to do?"
"They will go down to Berber. I have told them that many of the people here are going down, and that they will find no difficulty in joining a party. They are sure to find people they know, at Berber, for most of the Jaalin who have escaped have gone there, since we occupied the place. I told them that I would give them what money I had; for, since I have been in my lord's service, I have had no occasion to spend aught that he has paid me."
"I have no doubt, Zaki, that I can arrange for them to go down in one of the empty store boats. I believe that many of the captives who have been released will be sent down that way; and, of course, I shall be glad to give your sisters enough to keep them, for some time, at Berber."
"My lord is too good," Zaki said gratefully.
"Nonsense, Zaki! You saved my life, and I owe you a great deal. I will go down, at once, to the river–that is, if your sisters are ready to start tomorrow–and I have no doubt the transport officer will give me an order, for them, to go in one of the boats."
As he had expected, he had no difficulty in making arrangements. Several of the native boats, that had already landed their stores, would leave on the following day; and Gregory obtained an order for the passage of the two women. He then drew some money from the paymaster and, on his return to headquarters, gave Zaki a hundred dollars for his sisters.
The black was overpowered with joy and, going off, returned with the two girls–for they were little more. Each took one of Gregory's hands, and pressed it to her forehead and heart, and murmured her thanks.
