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WITH   KITCHENEE   TO   KHARTUM 


BY  THE  SAME  AUTHOR. 


EGYPT  IN  1898.    With  Illustrations.    Crown  8vo. 

"  Set  forth  in  a  style  that  provides  plenty  of  entertainment. 
Bright  and  readable." — Times. 


THE    LAND    OF    THE    DOLLAR.      Third  Editiou. 
Crown  8vo. 

"One  of  the  smartest  books  of  travel  which  has  appeared  for  a 

long  time  past Brings  the  general  appearance  of  Transatlantic 

urban  and  rural  life  so  clearly  before  the  mind's  eye  of  the  reader, 
that  a  perusal  of  his  work  almost  answers  the  purpose  of  a  personal 
inspection.  New  York  has  probably  never  been  more  lightly  and 
cleverly  sketched." — Daily  Telegraph. 

"WITH    THE    CONQUERING    TURK:  Confessions 

of   a    Bashi-Bazouk.     With  Four  Maps.     Small  demy  8vo. 


"  The  most  entertaining  of  the  volumes  we  have  had  about  the 

Ten  Weeks'  Campaign  in  the  spring It  gives  brightly,  and 

without  any  desperate  striving  after  realism,  a  vivid  idea  of  what 
a  correspondent  with  the  Turkish  forces  in  Thessaly  went  through." 
— Times. 


WITH 

UTCHENER  TO   KHARTUM 


BY 

G.  W.  STEEVENS 

AUTHOR   OP 

'EGYPT  IN  1898,'  'the  land  of  the  dollar,'  'with  THfi 

CONQUERING  TURK,'  ETC. 


WITH  MAPS  AND  PLANS 


NEW  YORK 
DODD,  MEAD  &  COMPANY 

1898 


DT-/0Z5  —— 


Copyright,  189S, 
By  Dodd,  Mead  &  Company. 


INTRODUCTORY  NOTE. 


Me.  Steevens'  earlier  work,  "  With  the  Conquering 
Turk,"  was  received  with  such  cordial  recognition  that 
it  is  perhaps  unnecessary  to  refer  to  his  qualities  as  a 
war  correspondent  or  to  his  literary  gifts.  The  Anglo- 
Egyptian  expedition  is  a  greater  theme,  and  the  writer 
of  these  pages  has  the  advantage  of  a  wider  experi- 
ence. He  has  a  broader  comparative  basis  for  his  ob- 
servation, and  his  criticism,  which  he  always  offers 
modestly  and  as  an  "  amateur,"  has  a  higher  value.  At 
the  same  time  the  power  of  vivid  narration  and  keen 
characterization  is  quite  as  striking.  As  one  of  the  most 
remarkable  campaigns  of  history  the  Sirdar's  move- 
ment on  Khartum  would  be  an  interesting  topic  at 
any  time,  but  just  now  it  has  a  special  claim  to  atten- 
tion in  this  country.  A  fresh  experience  of  war,  with 
the  criticism  of  its  management  now  ringing  in  our 
ears,  naturally  gives  an  incentive  to  a  comparison 
which,  as  a  whole,  defies  the  criticism  even  of  non- 
combatants.  How  far  such  a  comparison  is  justified 
will  appear  from  these  pages.  The  marvelous,  ma~ 
chine-like    precision    of  the   Sirdar's   movements   is 


'JAN  2?  1SS0 


INTRODUCTORY    NOTE. 

described  by  Mr.  Steevens  with  accuracy  and  graphic 
presentation  of  detail,  but  lie  shows  with  the  same 
clearness  the  dark  background  of  delays  and  blunders 
and  futilities  in  the  years  that  preceded.  It  was  not 
an  affair  of  one  summer.  In  being  at  the  right  place 
at  the  right  time,  and  in  missing  nothing  of  importance, 
Mr.  Steevens  shared  in  the  luck  which  he  attributes 
to  the  Sirdar's  star ;  but  he  had  to  work  for  it.  He 
joined  the  expedition  early  in  1897,  and  he  toiled  along 
with  it  to  the  end.  He  went  through  the  battles  of 
the  Atbara  and  Omdurman.  He  entered  Khartum 
with  the  conquerors,  and  he  saw  the  raising  of  the 
Union  Jack  on  the  spot  where  Gordon  fell. 


CONTEXTS. 


I.  HALFA  TELLS  ITS  STORY. 


PAGE 


The  romance  of  the  Sudan  in  brief —The  rise  of  the  Mahdi — The 
second  act  of  the  drama— The  first  Anglo-Egyptian  strategi- 
cal victory — The  defeat  of  Nejumi — Tlie  turning-point  of 
the  drama — Convict  labour — The  taming  of  the  Sudan — The 
cemetery 1 


II.    THE   EGYPTIAN   ARMY. 

The  growth  of  sixteen  years — The  smallest  <uid  best  paid  of 
conscriptive  armie3 — The  Sudanese  battalions — A  perennial 
schoolboy  —  Inconstant  warriors  —Polygamy — Uniform  and 
equipment — Cavalry  and  artillery — British  officers  and 
native  troops — The  merits  of  "Sergeant  Whatsisname" — A 
daily  heroism — Bey  and  Bimbashi— Rapid  promotion — Oue 
of  the  highest  achievements  of  our  race    ,  •         •         •       11 


III.   THE   S.M.R. 

The  deadliest  weapon  against  Mahdism — An  impossibility  real- 
ised— A  heavy  handicap — The  railway  battalions — Arab 
views  on  mechanics — Engines  of  shreds  and  patches — 
Bimbashi  Oirouard — An  engineering  triumph — A  subaltern 
with  £2000  a-year — Saloon  passengers — A  journey  through 
the  desert — A  desert  railway  station    .....       22 


Vlll  CONTEXTS. 


IV.  THE  CORRESPONDENT'S  PROGRESS. 

An  outcast  in  the  Sudan — The  significance  of  a  "line  of  com- 
munications"— The  old  and  the  young  campaigner — A  varied 
equipment — The  buying  of  camels — An  energetic  Least — A 
doubtful  testimonial — A  waiting  game — A  hurried  depar- 
ture—A happy  thought 31 


V.   I   MARCH   TO   EERBER. 

The  hiring  of  donkeys — Arab  deliberation — A  wonderful  horse 
— The  procession  starts — The  luxury  of  angarehs— A  dis- 
reputable caravan  —  Four  miles  an  hour — The  desert  tread- 
mill— A  camel  ride  to  Berber      ......       39 


VI.   THE   SIRDAR. 

Irrelevant  details — The  Sudan  Machine — The  harvest  of  fifteen 
years — A  stroke  of  genius — An  unsuccessful  enterprise — A 
diplomatic  skirmish  with  the  Khedive — Swift,  certain,  and 
relentless — A  stern  regime — A  well-trusted  general — A  legi- 
timate ambition — The  Anglo-Egyptian  Mahdi      .         .         .      45 


VII.   ARMS   AND   MEN. 

Major-General  Hunter — The  sword-arm  of  the  Egyptian  Army 
— A  nineteenth-century  crusader — An  officer  renowned  for 
bravery — A  possible  new  national  hero — l.ieut.-Col.  Hector 
Macdonald  —  Lieut. -Col.  Maxwell  —  Lieut. -Col.  Lewis  — 
Lieut. -Col.  Broad  wood — Lieut. -Col.  Long — General  Gatacre 
— The  soldier's  general — Arab  notions  about  figures — Osman 
Digua — Colonel  Wingate     .......       53 


VIII.   IN   THE   BRITISH   CAMP. 

A  great  march  under  difficulties — A  gunner's  adventure — The 
boot  scandal — Official  explanations  and  admissions — Making 
the  men  hard — The  general's  morning  ride — The  camp  in  a 
dust  storm — A  badly  chosen  site  .....       66 


CONTENTS 


IX.  FORT  ATBARA. 

Dinner  in  the  Egyptian  camp — Under  a  roof  again — A  Band- 
storm— The  Fort — A  revelation  of  Egyptian  industry — The 
Egyptian  soldiers  on  fatigue  duty — A  Greek  caf<5 — The  gun- 
boat fleet — Crossing  the  Fourth  Cataract — The  value  of  the 
gunboats — War,  blockade-running,  and  poaching  combined  .       75 


X.  THE  MARCH  OUT. 

The  beginning  and  end  of  the  Berber  season — A  palatial  house 
— Berber,  old  and  new — The  value  of  angarebs — The  appre- 
hensions of  the  Greek  merchants — A  splendid  black  battalioa 
— The  crossing  of  the  luck  token — "Like  the  English,  we 
are  nut  afraid" — A  flattering  belief     .....       85 


XI.    THE  CONCENTRATION. 

The  restrictions  laid  on  correspondents — Loading  the  camels — 
Arab  ideas  of  time — Impartial  stupidity  of  the  camel — Peri- 
patetic Christmas  trees — The  brigade  on  the  march — The 
result  of  General  Gatacre's  methods  —  Zariba  building — 
Counting  the  dervishes  from  a  watch  tower — A  daring  feat 
of  a  gunboat        •••.•■•••92 


XII.   AT  KENUR. 

An  ideal  residence  for  correspondents — Arrival  of  the  Seaforths 
—  Daily  manoeuvres — A  stately  spectacle — Native  ideas  of 
distance  and  number   ........    100 


XIII.   ON  THE  ATBARA. 

A  veritable  paradise — Sambo  and  the  dom-nuts — A  land  without 
life  — A  cavalry  skirmish — A  strong  reconnaissance — A  falsa 
alarm— The  real  enemy — The  want  of  transport  begins  to  be 
felt — What  officers  had  to  put  up  with — Dervish  deserters— 
A  bold  stroke      .........     105 


C0NTEXT3. 


XIV.   THE   RAID   ON   SHENDI. 

The  virtues  of  bottled  fruits— A  liquor  famine— The  Sudan 
Greek's  commercial  instincts — A  Nansen  of  trade — Inter- 
rupted festivities  atShendi — A  speedy  victory — The  Jaalin's 
revenge — The  vicissitudes  of  married  life  in  the  Sudau — The 
cook's  grievance  .....  ...     116 


XV.   REST  AND  RECONNAISSANCES. 

Mahmud  stale-mated— The  Egyptian  cavalry— Dispiriting  work 
— General  Hunter's  reconnaissance — Mahmud  marked  down 
— Rumours  aud  surmises — Reasons  for  storming  the  zariba      124 


XVI.   CAMEL-CORPS  AND  CAVALRY. 

Camel-corps  luck— Distant  firing— The  hall-mark  of  the  Sudan 
— The  second  and  third  class  passengers  of  the  desert — 
Traces  of  a  dervish  raid — A  cavalry  fight — The  vindication  of 
the  Egyptian  trooper — A  cheerful  camp      ....     131 


XVII.  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  ATBARA. 

A  march  by  moonlight — Twelve  thousand  men  move  forward 

The  first  gun— An  hour  and  twenty  minutes'  bombaidinent 
— The  Camerons'  advance — A  rain  of  fire  —  The  zariba  de- 
molished— A  wild  confusion  of  Highlanders — "A  very  good 
fight"— How  our  blacks  fought— A  masterpiece  of  a  battle     140 


XVIII.   LOSSES  AND  GAINS. 

From  boys  to  men— Mahmud  and  the  Sirdar— The  Camerona' 
losses— Crossing  the  trenches— General  Gatacre's  bugler— 
Hair-breadth  escapes— A  cheap  victory— The  Khalifa's  losses 
—The  Baggara  cavalry— Ferocious  heroism— Counting  the 
dead — Perfect  strategy 152 


CONTENTS.  XI 


XIX.   THE   TRIUMPH. 

The  blacks  returning  from  battle  —  A  song  of  thanksgiving — 
"They're  lovely;  they're  rippers "—  General  Hunter  con- 
voying the  wounded  —  How  the  injured  took  their  fate — 
Church-parade — The  return  to  Berber — The  captive  Mahixiud 
— The  fiuest  sight  of  the  whole  triumph         .         .         .         .161 


XX.   EGYPT   OUT   OF   SEASON. 

Port  Sairl  in  summer — Cairo,  a  desolation — The  Arab  overcome 
—  The  Continental  Hotel — Nileless  Egypt  — The  keys  of  the 
Nile 163 


XXI.    GOING   UP. 

On  the  Cairo  platform — The  worst  seventeen  hours  in  Egypt — 
The  line  at  Luxor — The  price  of  victory  over  the  man-eating 
Sudan — The  Nile-flood  —  Haifa —  Dervish  recruits  —  Three 
months'  progress  at  Atbara  —  The  master  -  toast  of  the 
Egyptian  army   .....         ....     173 


XXII.   THE   FIRST   STEPS   FORWARD. 

The  force  for  Omdurman  —  The  Egyptian  division  —  The 
Warwicks  —  Cavalry  and  artillery — The  new  gunboats — 
Slatin  Pasha  —  What  the  Khalifa's  refusal  to  fight  would 
mean  .         .         .         .         ...         .         .         .         .         .     ISO 


XXIII.   IN   SUMMER   QUARTERS. 

The  one  important  question — Sport  on  the  Atbara — A  pessim- 
istic senior  captain — The  Atbara  Derby — A  varied  conversa- 
tion— The  recruit  aud  the  mirage — Facetious  Tommiea  IS? 


Xll  C0NTENT3. 


XXIV.   DEPARTURES  AND  ARRIVALS. 

How  the  blacks  went  up  the  river  —  The  most  business-like 
business  in  the  world  —  The  Rifles'  first  experience  —  Two 
favoured  regiments — Amateur  and  professional  transport — 
The  perfection  of  method  .  .....     192 


XXV.   THE   PATHOLOGY  OF  THIRST. 

The  Sudan  thirst — Some  fine  distinctions — The  diversions  of  a 
correspondent — The  Sirdar  at  work — How  to  concpuer  the 
thirst — A  sweet  revenge — The  momeut  of  the  day    .         .     198 


XXVI.  BY  ROAD,  RIVER,  AND  RAIL. 

Fort  Atbara  becomes  a  British  camp — A  record  for  marching— 
The  gyassas  fight  the  wind — Shipping  the  40-pounders — The 
Irish  Fusiliers — The  effect  of  lyddite  —  The  arrival  of  the 
Guards — British  subalterns — One  more  incarnation    .         .     205 


XXVII.   THE  LAST  OF  FORT  ATBARA. 

The  restrictions  of  the  modern  war-correspondent  —  Scenery 
finer  than  Switzerland — Two  limp  battalions — The  Sirdar's 
lightning  movements — A  dress-rehearsal  of  camels — Tardy 
vengeauce  for  a  great  humiliation 212 


XXVIII.  THE  DESERT  MARCH  TO   OMDURMAN. 

A  young  regiment  —  First  impressions  of  cavalry  in  the  field — 
A  piquant  contrast — A  masterpiece  of  under-statement — A 
military  cireus  —  Camping  on  an  old  cotton-field — The 
vagaries  of  the  Nile  —  A  pleasant  camp  —  The  traces  of 
Mahdism 218 


CONTEXTS.  xiii 


XXIX.   METEMMEH. 

A  sign-post  in  the  wilderness — The  massacre  of  the  Jaalin — 

Makinud's  forts — Mahmud's  camp — The  cenotaph  of  a  tribe     226 


XXX.   A   CORRESPONDENT'S   DIARY. 

little  world  full  of  life — The  best  storm  of  the  season — 
"In  the  straight" — A  standing  miracle — A  disaster  to  a 
gunboat  —  Not  a  white  man's  country  —  The  Intelligence 
Department ,         .     233 


XXXI.   THE   RECONNAISSANCES. 

With  the  21st  Lancers  —  Dervishes  at  last  I  —  The  lines  of 
Kerreri — The  first  shot — Kerreri  abandoned — Omdurman 
in  sight — The  Khalifa's  army — A  perfect  reconnaissance  .     249 


XXXII.   THE   BATTLE   OF   OMDURMAN. 

The  position — The  first  attack — "  Rearer  party  there  !  " — On  to 
Omdurinan — The  second  attack — Broadwood  in  difficulties 
— The  Lancers'  charge — Three  against  three  thousand — The 
third  attack — Macdonald  and  his  blacks — The  last  Dervish     259 


XXXIII.  ANALYSIS  AND  CRITICISM. 

An  appalling  slaughter — Our  losses — Casualties  among  corres- 
pondents— The  Khalifa's  blunders  and  probable  fate — The 
battle  of  Gedaref — Our  mistakes  and  our  merita       ,         ,    284 


XXXIV.   OMDURMAN. 

The  destruction  of  the  forts — The  white  flag — A  squalid  capital 
— A  huge  harem  —  Through  the  breach — In  the  Khalifa's 
citadel  —  Imposing  on  the  savage  —  Gone!  —  Testing  the 
Khalifa's  corn — Dog-tired — Flotsam  of  civilisation  —  Filth, 
lust,  and  blood 297 


XIV  CONTEXTS, 


XXXV.  THE  FUNERAL  OF  GORDON. 

The  Avengers — The  seal  on  Khartum — The  Bervice — In  Gordon's 

garden — We  leave  hiin  with  the  flag    .....     810 


XXXVI.   AFTER  THE  CONQUEST. 

A  tragedy  played  out  —  The  vindication  of  our  national  self- 
respect — The  trade  of  the  Sudan — Fat  Egypt  and  the  lean 
Sudan  —  Beggarly,  empty,  miserable — Egyptian  officials — 
"What  Egypt  has  gained  by  the  conquest  —  The  future  of 
the  Egyptian  army — Aa  empty  limbo  of  torment — Naked 
nature  •••.317 


LIST    OF    MAPS. 


General  Map — Egypt  to  Uganda         .  At  the  beginning 

Sketch  Map  op  the  Nile  and  Atbara,  to  illustrate 

the  operations  against  Mahmoud       .         .  To  face  p.  78 

Sketch  Plan  of  the  Battle  op  Atbara     .         n  144 

The  Nile — Metemmeh  to  Khartum      .        .         n  220 

Khartum  and  Omdurman       ....        u  246 

Battle  of  Omdurman,  Phase  One,  7  a.m.     .        n  2C0 

it                      ii               ii        Two,  9.40  a.m.         ii  263 


tr       Three,  10.10  a.m.    » 


278 


THE   CHIEF   EVENTS   IN   THE   ATBARA    AND 

OMDURMAN   CAMPAIGNS. 


Sirdar    asks    for    reinforcements    of    British 

troops     ....... 

British  brigade  starts  for  front  from  Aim  Dis 

M  ii        reaches  Dibeika,  beyond  Berber 

Sirdar  leaves  Berber 
Concentration  at  Kenur 
Army  moves  up  the  Atbara   .         . 
First  contact  with  Dervish  cavalry 
Shendi  raided  and  destroyed  . 
General  Hunter  reconnoitres  Mahmud's  zariba 
Second  reconnaissance :  cavalry  action  before 

Mahmud's  zariba     ..... 
Battle  of  the  Atbara      . 
Sirdar's  triumphal  entry  into  Berber 
Railhead   reaches   Abeidieh :    construction   of 

new  gunboats  begun      .... 
Railhead  reaches  Fort  Atbara         .         .         . 
Lewis's  Brigade  leaves  Atbara  for  south 
Second  British  brigade  arrives  at  Atbara         . 
Sirdar  leaves  Atbara  for  front 
Last  troops  leave  Atbara         .... 
Final  concentration  at  Gebel  Royan 
March  from  Gebel  Royan  to  Wady  Abid  (eight 

miles)     ....... 

March  from  Wady  Abid  to  Sayal  (ten  mifTs) 

ii  Sayal  to  Wady  Suetne  (eight  miles  ) 

Kerreri  reconnoitred  and  shelled     . 
March  from  Wady  Suetne  to  Agaiga  (six  miles); 

Omdurman  reconnoitred  and  furts  silenced 
Battle  and  capture  of  Omdurman 
Funeral  of  Gordon 
Sirdar  starts  for  Fashoda 
Battle  of  Gedaref  . 
Sirdar  returns  from  Fashoda . 


Dec.  31, 

1897 

Feb.  26, 

1898 

March  3, 

n 

i,        15, 

ii 

n        16, 

ii 

ii       20, 

ii 

ii        21, 

it 

,.       27, 

•i 

••       30, 

•• 

April  4, 

ii 

ii     8, 

N 

••     11, 

tl 

„     18, 

It 

June  (middle 

.. 

July  (early) 

II 

Aug.  3-17, 

II 

ii    13, 

11 

n     18, 

•1 

i.     23, 

N 

ii     29, 

II 

ii     30, 

•I 

ii     31, 

II 

i.     31, 

II 

Sept.  1, 

M 

„     2, 

M 

..     4, 

•1 

m     9, 

N 

ti     22, 

H 

ii     24, 

N 

GENERAL  MAP-EGYPT  TO  UGANDA 


..-'^       *- 


WITH  KITCHENER  TO  KHARTUM. 


HALFA  TELLS   ITS   STORY. 

To  walk  round  Wady  Haifa  is  to  read  the  whole 
romance  of  the  Sudan.  This  is  the  look-out  whence 
Egypt  has  strained  her  vision  up-Nile  to  the  vast, 
silent,  torrid,  murderous  desert  land,  which  has  been 
in  turn  her  neighbour,  her  victim,  all  but  her  undoing 
and  is  now  to  be  her  triumph  again.  On  us  English, 
too,  the  Sudan  has  played  its  fatal  witchery,  and  half 
the  tale  of  Haifa  is  our  own  as  well  as  Egypt's.  On 
its  buildings  and  up  and  down  its  sandy,  windy  streets 
we  may  trace  all  the  stages  of  the  first  conquest,  the 
loss,  the  bitter  failures  to  recover,  the  slow  recom- 
mencement, the  presage  of  final  victory. 

You  can  get  the  whole  tale  into  a  walk  of  ten 
minutes.     First  look  at  that  big  white  building :  it  is 


HALPA  TELLS  ITS  STORY. 


the  Egyptian  military  hospital,  and  one  of  the  largest, 
solidest  structures  of  Haifa.  In  shape  and  style,  you 
will  notice,  it  is  not  unlike  a  railway-station — and 
that  is  just  what  it  was  meant  to  be.  That  was  the 
northern  terminus  of  Ismail  Pasha's  great  railway  to 
Khartum,  which  was  to  have  run  up-river  to  Dongola 
and  Debbeh,  and  thence  across  the  Bayuda,  by  Jakdul 
and  Abu  Klea  to  Metemmeh.  The  scheme  fell  short, 
like  all  Ismail's  grandiose  ambitions ;  Gordon  stopped 
it,  and  paid  for  his  unforesight  with  his  life.  The 
railway  never  reached  the  Third  Cataract.  The  upper 
part  of  it  was  torn  to  pieces  by  the  Dervishes,  who 
chopped  the  sleepers  into  firewood,  and  twisted  the 
telegraph-wires  to  spear-heads  ;  the  part  nearer  Haifa 
lay  half-derelict  for  many  years,  till  it  was  aroused  at 
length  to  play  its  part  in  the  later  act  of  the  tragedy 
of  the  Sudan. 

Now,  twenty  yards  along  the  line — in  this  central 
part  of  Haifa  every  street  is  also  a  railway — you  see 
a  battered,  broken -winded  engine.  It  was  here  in 
1884.  That  is  one  of  the  properties  of  the  second  act 
— the  nerveless  efforts  to  hold  the  Sudan  when  the 
Mahdi  began  to  rip  it  loose.  For  in  the  year  1881, 
before  we  came  to  Egypt  at  all,  there  had  arisen  a  re- 
ligious teacher,  a  native  of  Dongola,  named  Mohammed 
Ahmed.  The  Sudan  is  the  home  of  fanaticism:  it 
has  always  been  called  "  the  Land  of  the  Dervishes," 
and  no  rising  saint  was  more  ascetic  than  the  young 
Dongolawi.     He  was  a  disciple  of  a  holy  man  named 


THE   BEGINNING   OF   THE    MAHDI. 

Mohammed  Sherif,  and  one  day  the  master  gave  a  feast 
at  which  there  was  dancing  and  singing.  Such  friv- 
olity, said  Mohammed  Ahmed,  was  displeasing  to 
Allah;  whereat  the  Sherif  was  angry,  cursed  him, 
and  cast  him  out.  The  disciple  sprinkled  ashes 
on  his  head,  put  a  yoke  on  his  neck,  and  fell  at  his 
master's  feet,  imploring  forgiveness.  Again  Moham- 
med Sherif  cursed  him  and  cast  him  out. 

Angered  now  himself,  Mohammed  Ahmed  joined  a 
new  teacher  and  became  a  straiter  ascetic  than  ever. 
The  fame  of  his  sanctity  spread,  and  adherents  flocked 
to  him.  He  saw  that  the  people  of  the  Sudan,  smart- 
ing under  extortion  and  oppression,  could  but  too  easily 
be  roused  against  the  Egyptian  Government :  he  risked 
all,  and  proclaimed  himself  El  Mahdi  el  Muntazer, 
the  Expected  Guide,  the  Mussulman  Messiah.  The 
Governor  -  General  at  Khartum  sent  two  companies 
to  arrest  him :  the  Mahdi's  followers  fell  on  them 
unawares  and  destroyed  them.  More  troops  were 
sent ;  the  Mahdists  destroyed  them :  next  came  a 
small  army,  and  again  the  Mahdists  destroyed  it.  The 
barbarous  tribesmen  flocked  to  the  Mahdi's  standard, 
and  in  September  1882  he  laid  siege  to  El  Obeid,  the 
chief  city  of  Kordofan.  His  assault  was  beaten  back 
with  great  slaughter,  but  after  tive  months'  siege  the 
town  surrendered  ;  sack  and  massacre  taught  doubters 
what  they  had  to  expect. 

The  Sudan  doubted  no  longer  :  of  a  truth  this  was 
the  Mahdi.     Hicks  Pasha's  army  came  down  from  the 


4  UALFA   TELLS   ITS   STORY. 

North  only  to  swell  the  Mahdi's  triumph  to  immensity. 
Unorganised,  unwieldy,  afraid,  the  Egyptians  crawled 
on  towards  El  Oheid,  harassed  by  an  enemy  they 
never  saw.  They  saw  them  at  last  on  November  4, 
1883,  at  Shekan  :  the  fight  lasted  a  minute,  and  the 
massacre  spared  only  hundreds  out  of  ten  thousand. 
The  rest  you  know  —  Gordon's  mission,  the  loss  of 
Berber,  the  siege  of  Khartum,  the  massacre  of  Baker's 
levies  at  El  Teb,  Graham's  expedition  to  Suakim,  and 
the  hard-fought  fights  of  the  second  Teb  and  Tamai, 
Wolseley's  expedition  up  the  Nile,  with  Abu  Klea  and 
the  Gubar  and  Kirbekan,  the  second  Suakim  cam- 
paign and  M'Neill's  zariba.  Everybody  knows  these 
stories,  so  gallant,  so  futile.  I  remember  thirteen 
and  fourteen  years  ago  being  enormously  proud  and 
joyful  about  Tamai  and  Abu  Klea.  I  was  very  young. 
Read  over  the  tale  again  now — the  faltering  and  the 
folly  and  the  failure — and  you  will  feel  that  if  Egypt 
has  Baker's  Teb  and  Hicks's  ruin  to  wipe  out,  Eng- 
land was  not  so  very  far  from  suffering  precisely  the 
same  humiliations.  And  in  the  end  we  failed,  with 
what  loss  we  still  remember,  and  gave  the  Sudan 
away.     The  second  act  is  not  a  merry  one. 

The  third  was  less  tragic,  but  it  was  perhaps  even 
harder  to  play.  We  pass  by  a  mud-walled  quad- 
rangle, which  was  once  the  artillery  barracks  ;  through 
the  gateway  you  look  across  sand  to  the  mud  ram- 
parts of  Haifa.  That  is  the  stamp  of  the  days  of 
reorganisation,   of   retrenchment,  of    difficulties   and 


THE   FIRST   ANGLO-EGYPTIAN   VICTORY.  5 

discouragements,  and  unconquerable,  undisappointed 
work.  Those  were  the  days  when  the  Egyptian 
army  was  in  the  making,  when  Haifa  was  the  fron- 
tier fortress.  There  are  old  barracks  all  over  it, 
where  the  young  fighting  force  of  Egypt  used  to  sleep 
half  awake.  The  brown  flanks  of  those  hills  beyond 
the  rifle-range,  just  a  couple  of  miles  or  so  desert- 
wards,  have  seen  Dervishes  stealing  up  in  broad  day 
and  insolently  slashing  and  stabbing  in  the  main 
streets  of  the  bazaar.  Yet  this  time  was  not  all  un- 
avenged insult:  the  long  years  between  1885  and 
1896  saw  Egypt  defended  and  its  assailants  smashed 
to  pieces.  Little  by  little  Egypt — British  Egypt  now 
— gained  strength  and  new  resolution. 

Four  battles  mark  the  stages  from  weakness  and 
abandonment  to  confidence  and  the  resolution  to  re- 
conquer. At  Ginnis,  on  the  last  day  but  one  of  1885, 
came  the  first  Anglo  -  Egyptian  strategical  victory. 
The  Mahdists  had  been  tactically  beaten  before — well 
beaten ;  but  the  result  had  always  been  that  we  fell 
back  and  they  came  on.  After  Ginnis,  fought  by  the 
British  army  of  occupation,  aided  by  a  small  number 
of  the  new  Egyptian  army,  we  stood  firm,  and  the 
Dervishes  were  washed  back.  There  were  men  of 
the  Cameron  Highlanders  on  the  Atbara,  who  had 
fought  in  that  battle :  it  was  not  perhaps  a  very 
great  one,  but  it  was  the  first  time  the  enemy  had 
been  brought  to  a  standstill.  He  retired  behind  the 
Third  Cataract. 


0  HALFA   TELLS   ITS   STORY. 

Then  followed  three  years  of  raid  and  counter-raid. 
Chennside  cut  up  their  advance-guard  at  Sarras ;  they 
captured  the  fort  of  Khor  Musa,  and  Machell  Bey  of 
the  13th  Sudanese  drove  thern  out  within  twelve 
hours.  On  the  Suakirn  side  the  present  Sirdar  made 
head  against  Osman  Digna  with  what  irregulars  and 
friendlies  he  could  get  together.  Then  in  1888  Osman 
waxed  insolent  and  threw  up  trenches  against  Suakim. 
It  became  a  regular  siege,  and  Dervish  shells  fell  into 
the  town.  But  on  December  20  Sir  Francis  Grenfell, 
the  Sirdar,  came  down  and  attacked  the  trenches  at 
the  battle  of  Gemaizeh,  and  Osman  fell  back  shat- 
tered :  never  again  did  he  come  so  near  his  soul's 
ambition. 

Meanwhile  Wad-en-Nejumi  —  the  great  Emir,  the 
conqueror  of  Hicks  and  the  captor  of  Khartum — had 
hung  on  the  southern  frontier,  gathering  strength  for 
his  attack  on  Egypt.  He  came  in  1889,  skirting 
Haifa  in  the  western  desert,  striking  for  a  point  in 
Egypt  proper  above  Assuan.  His  Emirs  got  out  of 
hand  and  tried  to  get  to  the  Nile;  in  a  hard  day's 
tussle  at  Argin,  Colonel  Wodehouse  and  the  Haifa 
garrison  threw  him  back  into  the  desert  again.  Ne- 
jumi  pushed  on  southward,  certain  of  death,  certain  of 
Paradise.  At  Toski  Grenfell  brought  him  to  battle 
with  the  flower  of  the  Egyptian  army.  At  the  end  of 
the  day  Nejumi  was  dead  and  his  army  was  beginning 
to  die  of  thirst  in  the  desert.  Egypt  has  never  been 
attacked  since. 


THE   TURNING-POINT   OF   THE   DRAMA.  7 

Finally,  in  1891  Colonel  Holled  -  Smith  marched 
against  Osman  Digna's  base  outside  Suakim,  the  oasis 
of  Tokat.  The  Dervishes  sprang  upon  him  at  Afaiit, 
but  the  days  of  surprise  and  panic  were  over.  They 
were  rolled  back  and  shattered  to  pieces ;  their  base 
was  occupied ;  and  Suakim  as  well  as  Haifa  had  peace. 
Now  all  ground  was  finally  maintained,  and  all  was 
ripe  for  attack  again.  England  heard  little  of  this 
third  act ;  but  for  all  that,  unadvertised,  hard-work- 
ing, it  was  the  turning-point  of  the  whole  drama. 

And  now  we  have  come  to  the  locomotive-sheds 
and  the  fitting-shops,  the  boiler-houses  and  the  store- 
rooms ;  we  are  back  in  the  present  again,  and  the 
Haifa  of  to-day  is  the  Egypt  of  to-day.  Haifa  has 
left  off  being  a  fortress  and  a  garrison ;  to-day  it  is 
all  workshop  and  railway  terminus.  To-day  it  makes 
war  not  with  bayonets,  but  with  rivets  and  spindle- 
glands.  Eailways  run  along  every  dusty  street,  and 
trains  and  trucks  clank  up  and  down  till  Haifa  looks 
for  all  the  world  like  Chicago  in  a  turban.  In  chains, 
too,  for  to  Haifa  come  all  the  worst  villains  of  Egypt. 
You  must  know  that,  till  the  other  day,  no  Egyptian 
could  be  hanged  for  murder  except  on  the  evidence  of 
eyewitnesses — just  the  people  whom  most  murderers 
try  to  avoid.  So  the  rails  and  sleepers  are  slung 
ashore  to  the  jingle  of  ankle  -  chains ;  and  after  a 
day  in  Haifa  it  startles  you  in  no  way  to  hear  that 
the  black  foreman  of  the  engine -shop  did  his  live 
murders,  and  that,  nevertheless,  he  is  a  most  intelli- 


8  HALFA   TELLS  ITS  STORY. 

gent,  industrious,  and  harmless  creature.  On  the  con- 
trary, you  find  it  admirable  that  Egypt's  ruffians  are 
doing  Egypt's  work. 

Haifa  clangs  from  morning   till   night  with   rails 
lassoed  and  drawn  up  a  sloping  pair  of  their  fellows 
by  many  convicts  on  to  trucks ;  it  thuds  with  sleepers 
and  boxes  of  bully-beef  dumped  on  to  the  shore.     As 
you  come  home  from  dinner  you  stumble  over  strange 
rails,  and  sudden  engine-lamps  flash  in  your  face,  and 
warning  whistles  scream  in  your  ears.     As  you  lie 
at  night  you  hear  the  plug-plug  of  the  goods  engine, 
nearer  and  nearer,  till  it  sounds  as  if  it  must   be 
walking  in  at  your  tent  door.     Erom  the  shops  of 
Haifa  the  untamed  Sudan  is  being  tamed  at  last.     It 
is  the  new  system,  the  modern  system  —  mind  and 
mechanics  beating  muscle  and  shovel-head  spear.     It 
takes  up  and  digests  all  the  past :  the  bits  of  Ismail's 
railway  came  into  the  Dongola  line;   the  engine  of 
Wolseley's   time   has   been   rebuilt,    and   is   running 
again ;  the  artillery  barracks  are  a  store  for  all  things 
pertaining  to  engines.     They  came  together  for  the 
fourth  act — the  annihilating  surprise  of  Ferkeh,  the 
masterly  passage  of  Hafir,  the  occupation  of  Dongola 
and  Merawi,  the  swift  march  and  sharp  storm  of  Abu 
Hamed,  the  swoop  on  Berber.     They  were  all  coming 
together  now  for  the  victorious  end,  ready  to  enter 
for  the  fifth  act  and  the  final  curtain  on  Khartum. 
But  that   is  not  all  Haifa,  and   it   is  not  all  the 
Sudan.    Looking  at  it  hence  from  its  threshold,  the 


THE   CEMETERY.  9 

Sudan  seems  like  a  strong  and  swift  wild  beast, 
which  many  hunters  have  pursued,  none  subdued. 
The  Sudan  is  a  man-eater  —  red -gorged,  but  still 
insatiable.  Turn  your  pony's  head  and  canter  out 
a  mile ;  we  are  at  the  cemetery.  No  need  to  dis- 
mount, or  even  to  read  the  names — see  merely  how 
full  it  is.  Each  white  cross  is  an  Englishman  de- 
voured by  the  Sudan.  Go  and  hear  the  old  inhabi- 
tants talk — the  men  who  have  contrived  to  live  year 
in,  year  out,  in  the  Sudan,  in  splitting  sun  and  red- 
hot  sand.  You  will  notice  it  best  with  the  men  who 
are  less  trained  to  take  a  pull  on  their  sentiment  than 
are  British  officers — with  the  engineer  corporals  and 
the  foreman  mechanics,  and  all  the  other  plain, 
efficient  Englishmen  who  are  at  work  on  Haifa. 
Their  talk  is  half  of  the  chances  of  action,  and  the 
other  half  of  their  friends  that  have  died. 

"  Poor  Bill,  'e  died  in  the  desert  surveying  to  Habu 
'Amed.  Yes,  'e's  'ere  in  the  cemetery.  No ;  there 
wasn't  any  white  man  there  at  the  time." 

"  Ah,  yes ;  he  was  a  good  fellow,  and  so  was  poor 
Captain  Blank ;  a  real  nice  man,  he  was  now ;  no 
better  in  all  the  Egyptian  army,  sir,  and  I  tell  you 
that's  saying  a  good  deal,  that  is.  Fought,  too, 
against  it ;  he  was  engaged  to  a  girl  at  home,  you 
know,  sir,  and  he  wouldn't  give  up.  I  nursed  him 
till  the  doctor  come,  and  then  till  the  end.  Didn't 
you  see  him  when  you  was  out  at  the  cemetery ;  he's 
next  to  poor  Dash  ?  " 


10  HALFA  TELLS   ITS   STORY. 

"  Ah,  yes,"  says  the  third ;  "  don't  you  remember 
that  night  out  at  Murat — poor  Blank,  and  poor  Dash, 
and  poor  Tertius,  and  you,  and  me.  Five  we  were, 
and  now  there's  only  us  two  left.  Dear,  yes ;  and  I 
slept  in  Tertius's  bed  the  night  before  he  took  it ;  he 
was  gone  and  buried  forty -eight — no,  thirty -six,  it 
was — thirty-six  hours  later.  Ah,  yes;  he  was  a 
good  fellow,  too.     The  way  those  niggers  cried!" 

Yes;  it  is  a  murderous  devil,  the  Sudan,  and  we 
have  watered  it  with  more  of  our  blood  than  it  will 
ever  yield  to  pay  for.  The  man-eater  is  very  grim, 
and  he  is  not  sated  yet  Only  this  time  he  was  to  be 
conquered  at  last. 


An  r 


11 


II. 


THE   EGYPTIAN    ARMY. 

The  Anglo-Egyptian  army  is  not  quite  sixteen  years 
old.  The  old  Turco-Egyptian  army  was  knocked  to 
pieces  by  Lord  Wolseley  at  Tel-el- Kebir,  and  the 
Mahdi  ground  the  fragments  to  powder.  Out  of 
the  nothing  which  remained  sixteen  years  of  British 
leadership  have  sufficed  to  build  up  an  army  capable 
of  righting  foot  for  foot  with  the  victors  of  Tel-el- 
Kebir,  and  accustomed  to  see  the  backs  of  the  con- 
querors of  Hicks  and  Baker  and  Gordon. 

Sixteen  years  of  active  service  have  seen  a  great 
increase  on  the  eight  battalions  which  were  Sir  Evelyn 
Wood's  original  command.  To-day  the  Egyptian  army 
numbers  nineteen  battalions  of  infantry,  ten  squadrons 
of  cavalry,  one  horse  and  four  field  batteries,  and 
Maxims,  a  camel  corps  of  eight  companies,  and  the 
usual  non-combatant  services.  Lord  Dufferin  limited 
the  original  army  to  6000  men,  with  25  white  offi- 
cers ;  to-day  it  counts  three  times  that  number  with 
over  140. 


12  THE   EGYPTIAN  ARMY. 

The  army  is  of  course  raised  by  conscription.  But 
probably  the  conscription  sits  less  heavily  on  Egypt 
than  on  any  country  in  the  world.  Out  of  ten 
millions  it  takes — counting  the  railway  battalions — 
under  20,000  men, — that  is  to  say,  one  out  of  every 
500  of  population ;  whereas  Germany  takes  1  in  89, 
and  France  1  in  66.  That  is  only  on  the  peace-footing, 
moreover  ;  Egypt  has  been  at  war  ever  since  the  birth 
of  the  new  army ;  no  conscriptive  nation  ever  carried 
war  so  lightly.  On  the  other  hand,  the  Egyptian 
soldier  is  called  on  to  serve  six  years  with  the  colours 
and  nine  in  the  reserve  or  the  police.  The  small 
proportion  of  men  taken  enables  the  War  Office  to 
pick  and  choose ;  so  that  in  point  of  physique  also  the 
Egyptian  army  could  probably  give  weight  to  any 
in  the  world.  And  not  only  is  it  the  smallest  of  con- 
scriptive armies — it  is  also  the  best  paid.  The  fellah 
receives  a  piastre  (2|d.)  a-day — a  magnificent  salary, 
equal  to  what  he  would  usually  be  making  in  full 
work  in  his  native  village. 

Even  these  figures  do  not  do  justice  to  the  easy  con- 
ditions on  which  Egypt  supports  her  army.  For  of 
the  eighteen  battalions  of  infantry,  six — 9th  to  14th — 
are  Sudanese  blacks.  The  material  of  these  is  not 
drawn  from  Egypt  proper,  nor,  properly  speaking,  by 
conscription.  The  black  is  liable  to  be  enlisted  wher- 
ever he  is  found,  as  such,  in  virtue  of  his  race  ;  and  he 
is  enlisted  for  life.  Such  a  law  would  be  a  terrible 
tyranny  for  the  fellah  :  in  the  estimation  of  the  black 


OUE  SUDANESE  SOLDIERS.  13 

it  only  gives  comfort  and  security  in  the  natural 
vocation  of  every  man  worth  calling  such — war.  Many 
of  the  black  soldiers  have  fought  against  us  in  the 
past,  with  the  same  energy  and  enjoyment  as  they 
now  exhibit  in  our  service.  After  each  victory  the 
more  desirable  of  the  prisoners  and  deserters  are 
enlisted,  to  their  great  content,  in  one  black  battalion 
or  another.  Every  morning  I  had  seen  them  on  the 
range  at  Haifa — the  British  sergeant-instructor  teach- 
ing the  ex-Dervishes  to  shoot.  When  the  recruit 
made  a  bull— which  he  did  surprisingly  often — the 
white  sergeant,  standing  behind  him  with  a  paper, 
cried,  "  Quaiss  kitir  "—"  Very  good."  When  he  made 
a  fool  of  himself,  the  black  sergeant  trod  on  him  as  he 
lay  flat  on  his  belly :  he  accepted  praise  and  reproof 
with  equal  satisfaction,  as  part  of  his  new  game  of 
disciplined  war.  The  black  is  a  perennial  schoolboy, 
without  the  schooling. 

The  black  soldier  is  not  adapted  to  garrison  life. 
They  brought  a  battalion  down  to  Cairo  once  ;  but  the 
soldiers  insisted  on  driving  about  all  day  in  carriages, 
and  then  beat  the  driver  when  he  asked  for  his  fare. 
Ever  since  then  the  Sudanese  battalions  have  been 
kept  on  the  frontier— either  up  the  Nile  or  on  the 
Suakim  side,  wherever  there  has  been  fighting  to  do. 
Having  neither  knowledge  of  civilised  enjoyments 
nor  desire  for  them,  they  are  very  happy.  Their  pay 
is,  properly,  higher  than  that  of  the  fellahin— 14s.  a- 
month  to  begin  with  and  3|d.  a-day  allowance  for  the 


14  THE   EGYPTIAN   ARMY. 

wife  and  family  of  such  as  are  allowed  to  marry.  The 
allowance  is  given  generously,  for  woman  is  to  the 
black  soldier  a  necessary  of  life.  On  a  campaign  he 
must,  of  course,  leave  his  wife  and  children  behind : 
there  is  a  large  village  of  them  just  above  Assuan. 
But  since  their  time,  I  am  afraid,  as  the  frontier  has 
ever  advanced  up-river,  the  inconstant  warrior  has 
formed  fresh  ties  ;  and  now  at  Haifa,  at  Dongola,  at 
Berber,  the  path  of  victory  is  milestoned  with  expec- 
tant wives  and  children. 

It  is  not  so  abandoned  as  it  sounds,  for  the  Sudan- 
ese are  born  of  polygamy,  and  it  would  be  unreason- 
able to  expect  them  not  to  live  in  it.  Here  is  a 
typical  case.  One  day  a  particularly  smart  soldier 
came  and  desired  to  speak  with  his  commanding 
officer. 

"  I  wish  to  marry,  0  thou  Bey,"  he  said. 

"  But  aren't  you  married  ? " 

"Yes ;  but  my  wife  is  old  and  has  no  child,  and  I 
desire  a  child.  I  wish  therefore  to  marry  the  sister  of 
Sergeant  Mohammed  Ali,  and  he  also  is  willing." 

"  Then  you  want  to  send  away  your  present  wife  ? " 

"0  no,  Excellency.  My  wife  cooks  very  well, 
and  I  want  her  to  cook  my  rations.  She  also  is 
willing." 

So,  everybody  being  willing,  the  second  marriage 
took  place.  Mohammed  Ali's  sister  duly  bore  a  son, 
and  the  first  wife  cooked  for  the  whole  family,  and 
they  all  lived  happy  ever  afterwards. 


EGYPTIAN   CAVALKY.  15 

Each  infantry  battalion,  black  and  Egyptian  alike, 
is  divided  into  six  companies,  which  parade  between 
100  and  120  strong ;  a  battalion  thus  counts  roughly, 
with  band  and  bearer  parties,  from  650  to  750  rifles. 
The  normal  strength  of  a  battalion  is  759.  The 
uniform  is  much  the  same  for  all  arms  —  brown 
jersey,  sand-coloured  trousers,  and  dark-blue  putties. 
Over  the  tarbush  the  Egyptians  have  a  cover  which 
hangs  down  behind  over  the  nape  of  the  neck  :  the 
blacks  need  no  such  protection  from  their  native 
sun,  and  do  with  plaited-straw  round  the  tarbush, 
bearing  a  badge  whose  colour  varies  with  the  various 
battalions.     The  infantry  rifle  is  the  Martini. 

The  cavalry  are  all  Egyptians,  recruited  mostly 
from  the  Fayuni  oasis :  a  black  can  never  be  made  to 
understand  that  a  horse  needs  to  be  groomed  and  fed. 
The  horses  are  stout,  hardy  beasts  of  13  hands  or  so: 
they  get  through  an  amazing  amount  of  work,  and  so 
do  the  men,  though  they  are  a  little  heavy  in  the 
saddle.  The  strength  of  a  squadron  is  about  100  ;  the 
front  rank,  as  in  all  civilised  armies,  carry  lance  as 
well  as  sabre  and  Martini  carbine.  Seven  of  the 
squadron  leaders  are  Englishmen. 

Two  batteries  of  field-artillery  are  armed  with  new 
Maxim-Nordenfeldt  quick-firing  9-pounders,  or  18- 
pounders  with  a  double  shell — handy  little  creatures 
which  a  couple  of  mules  draw  easily.  The  horse- 
battery  has  12-pounder  Krupps,  the  rest  9-pounders. 
Each  battery  has  a  white  commander:   all  the  men 


16  THE   EGYPTIAN   ARMY. 

are  Egyptians,  and  their  physical  strength  and  teach- 
ableness make  them  almost  ideal  gunners. 

The  camel  corps  is  some  800  strong — half  black, 
half  fellah.  They  use  the  mounted-infantry  saddle, 
sitting  astride,  and  carry  Martini  and  baj  onet.  There 
are  five  white  officers. 

Of  the  fellah  battalions  some  are  officered  by 
Englishmen,  some  not.  The  former  are  1st  to  4th 
and  15th  to  18th ;  5th  to  8th  are  officered  entirely 
by  natives.  Until  this  campaign  the  normal  number 
of  white  officers  has  been  three  to  an  Egyptian  and 
four  to  a  Sudanese  battalion :  the  latter  require  more 
holding,  and  also  usually  see  more  fighting,  than  the 
former.  Most  of  them  were  one  or  even  two  short. 
But  for  this  campaign — the  final  campaign,  the  climax 
for  which  the  Anglo-Egyptian  army  has  existed  and 
drudged  sixteen  years — the  number  of  British  officers 
had  been  raised  to  four  in  some  battalions  for  the 
fellahin  and  five  for  the  blacks.  There  has  been  com- 
plaining, both  in  Egypt  and  at  home,  that  the  propor- 
tion of  British  to  Egyptian  officers  seems  to  grow 
greater,  whereas  in  theory  it  ought  to  grow  less ; 
but  the  objection  is  political  rather  than  military. 
Many  good  judges  would  like  to  see  a  few  black  bat- 
talions officered  right  through  by  white  men,  like  our 
West  India  Eegiment.  There  is  no  better  regimental 
officer  than  the  Englishman ;  there  is  no  better  natural 
fighter  than  the  Sudanese:  there  would  hardly  be  a 
likelier  force  in  the  world. 


SEKGEANT  WHATSISNAME.  17 

The  native  officers  are  largely  of  Turkish,  Circas- 
sian, or  Albanian  race,  with  the  qualities  and  defects 
of  their  blood ;  their  standard  of  professional  attain- 
ment and  duty  is  higher  than  that  of  the  Turkish 
army,  their  courage  in  action  no  lower.  Native  Egyp- 
tians have  furnished  the  army  with  one  or  two  con- 
spicuously useful  officers.  There  is  also  a  certain 
proportion  of  black  captains  and  subalterns  among 
the  Sudanese :  they  are  keen,  work  well  with  the 
British,  and,  of  course,  are  utterly  fearless ;  but,  as  a 
rule,  lack  of  education  keeps  them  out  of  the  higher 
grades. 

Finally,  we  must  not  forget  Sergeant  Whatsisname, 
as  with  grateful  appreciation  of  fame  at  Mr  Kipling's 
hands  he  is  proud  to  call  himself.  Each  battalion  has 
as  instructor  a  British  non-commissioned  officer:  he 
drills  it,  teaches  it  to  shoot,  makes  soldiers  of  it. 
Perhaps  there  is  no  body  of  men  in  the  world  who 
do  more  unalloyed  and  unlimited  credit  to  their  coun- 
try than  the  colour-sergeants  and  sergeants  with  the 
Egyptian  army.  In  many  ways  their  position  is  a 
very  difficult  one.  Technically  they  are  suboiJiuate 
to  all  native  officers  down  to  the  latest-joined  sub- 
lieutenant. The  slacker  sort  of  native  officer  resents 
the  presence  of  these  keenly  military  subordinates, 
and  does  his  best  to  make  them  uncomfortable.  But 
the  white  sergeant  knows  how  not  to  see  unpleasant- 
ness till  it  is  absolutely  unavoidable ;  then  he  knows 
how  to  go  quietly  to  his  colonel  and  assert  his  posi- 


18  THE   EGYPTIAN   ARMY. 

tion  without  publicly  humiliating  his  superior.  When 
you  hear  that  the  sergeant -instructors  are  highly 
endowed  with  tact,  you  will  guess  that  in  the  virtues 
that  come  more  naturally  to  the  British  sergeant  they 
shine  exceedingly.  Their  passionate  devotion  to  duty 
rises  to  a  daily  heroism.  Living  year  in,  year  out,  in 
a  climate  very  hard  upon  Europeans,  they  are  natur- 
ally unable  to  palliate  it  with  the  comparative  luxuries 
of  the  officer ;  though  it  must  be  said  that  the  con- 
sideration of  the  officer  for  his  non-commissioned 
comrade  is  one  of  the  kindliest  of  all  the  many  kindly 
touches  with  which  the  British-Egyptian  softens  pri- 
vation and  war.  But  the  white  officer  rides  and  the 
white  sergeant  marches.  "  Where  a  nigger  can  go,  I 
can  go,"  he  says,  and  tramps  on  through  the  sun. 
Early  in  the  year  one  of  them  marched  with  the  4th 
every  step  of  the  road  from  Suakim — the  only  white 
man  who  ever  did  it.  In  action  the  white  sergeant 
has  no  particular  place  or  duties,  so  he  charges  ahead 
of  the  first  line.  At  Haifa,  training  the  recruits,  he 
has  no  officer  set  over  him,  and  can  do  pretty  well 
what  he  likes  ;  so  he  stands  five  hours  in  the  sun 
before  breakfast  with  his  men  on  the  range.  He 
must  needs  be  a  keen  soldier  or  he  would  not  have 
volunteered  for  his  post,  and  a  good  one,  or  he  would 
not  have  got  it.  But  on  the  top  of  this  he  is  also 
essentially  a  fine  man.  Stiffened  by  marches  and 
fights  and  cholera  camps,  broadened  by  contact  with 
things  new  and  strange,  polished  by  a  closer  associa- 


AN  ARMY  OF  YOUNG  MEN.  19 

tion  with  his  officers  than  the  service  allows  at  home, 
elevated  by  responsibility  cheerfully  undertaken  and 
honourably  sustained,  —  he  is  a  mirror  of  soldierly 
virtue. 

The  position  of  the  British  officer  is  as  assured 
as  that  of  the  sergeant  is  ambiguous.  No  British 
regimental  officer  takes  lower  rank  than  major 
(Bimbashi) ;  none  has  any  superior  native  officer  in 
his  own  corps.  The  lieutenant- colonel  {Kaimakam) 
commanding  each  battalion  is  usually  a  captain  or 
major  in  the  British  army,  and  the  Binibashis  usually 
subalterns :  so  many  of  both  ranks,  however,  have 
earned  brevets  or  been  promoted,  that  in  talking  of 
officers  in  the  Egyptian  army  it  will  be  simplest  to 
call  a  battalion  commander  Bey,  which  is  the  courtesy 
title  by  which  he  is  usually  addressed,  and  his  British 
subordinate  Bimbashi. 

To  take  a  man  from  the  command  of  a  company 
and  put  him  to  command  a  battalion  is  a  big  jump; 
but  with  the  British  officers  in  Egypt  the  experiment 
has  richly  justified  itself.  The  Egyptian  army  is  an 
army  of  young  men.  The  Sirdar  is  forty-eight  years 
old ;  General  Hunter  was  a  major-general  before  he 
was  forty.  The  whole  army  lias  only  one  combatant 
officer  over  fifty.  Through  the  Dongola  campaign 
majors  commanded  brigades  and  captains  battalions ; 
at  Abu  Hamed,  last  year,  a  subaltern  of  twenty-eight 
led  his  regiment  in  action.  With  men  either  rash  or 
timid  such  sudden  promotion   might  be  dangerous; 


20  THE  EGYPTIAN  ARMY. 

but  the  officers  of  the  Egyptian  army  are  at  the 
same  time  unafraid  of  responsibility  and  equal  to  it. 
Their  professional  success  has  been  very  great — some 
whisper,  too  great.  "After  Tel-el-Kebir,"  said  a 
captain  in  the  British  brigade,  "one  of  our  officers 
came  to  me  and  talked  of  joining  the  Egyptian  army. 
For  God's  sake,  don't,'  I  said;  'don't:  you'll  spend 
your  life  thrashing  fellah  in  into  action  with  a  stick.' 
Now,  here  am  I  commanding  a  company,  and  a  man 
who  was  under  me  in  the  Kandahar  show  is  com- 
manding a  brigade."  Certainly  the  Egyptian  officers 
may  have  passed  over  men  as  good  as  they ;  but  their 
luck  has  lain  solely  in  getting  the  chance  to  show  their 
merit. 

For  after  all  the  fact  remains,  that  while  the  British 
campaigns  in  the  Sudan  are  a  long  story  of  failure 
brightened  only  by  stout  fighting,  the  Egyptian 
campaigns  have  been  a  consistent  record  of  success. 
With  inferior  material,  at  a  tithe  of  the  expense,  they 
have  worn  their  enemy  down  by  sheer  patience  and 
pluck  and  knowledge  of  their  business.  In  the  old  days 
campaigns  were  given  up  for  want  of  transport ;  now 
rations  are  as  certain  in  Khartum  as  in  Cairo.  In  the 
old  days  we  used  to  be  surprised  and  to  fight  in  square  ; 
now  we  surprise  the  enemy  and  attack  in  line.  In 
quite  plain  language,  what  Gordon  and  Wolseley  failed 
to  do  the  Sirdar  has  done.  The  credit  is  not  all  his : 
part  must  go  to  Sir  Evelyn  Wood  and  Sir  Francis 
Grenfell,  his  predecessors,  and  to  the  whole  body  of 


A   GKEAT  ACHIEVEMENT.  21 

officers  in  due  proportion.  They  have  paid  for  their 
promotion  with  years  on  the  frontier — years  of  sweat 
and  sandstorm  by  day,  of  shivering  and  alarms  by 
night,  of  banishment  always ;  above  all,  they  have 
richly  earned  it  by  success.  Now  that  the  long 
struggle  is  crowned  with  victory,  we  may  look  back  on 
those  fourteen  indomitable  years  as  one  of  the  highest 
achievements  of  our  race. 


22 


IIL 


THE   S.M.B. 

Halfa  is  nearly  four  hundred  miles  from  the 
Atbara ;  yet  it  was  the  decisive  point  of  the  campaign. 
For  in  Haifa  was  being  forged  the  deadliest  weapon 
that  Britain  has  ever  used  against  Mahdism  —  the 
Sudan  Military  Railway.  In  the  existence  of  the 
railway  lay  all  the  difference  between  the  extempore, 
amateur  scrambles  of  Wolseley's  campaign  and  the 
machine-like  precision  of  Kitchener's.  When  civilisa- 
tion fights  with  barbarism  it  must  fight  with  civilised 
weapons ;  for  with  his  own  arts  on  his  own  ground 
the  barbarian  is  almost  certain  to  be  the  better  man. 
To  go  into  the  Sudan  without  complete  transport  and 
certain  communications  is  as  near  madness  as  to  go 
with  spears  and  shields.  Time  has  been  on  the 
Sirdar's  side,  whereas  it  was  dead  against  Lord 
Wolseley  ;  and  of  that,  as  of  every  point  in  his  game, 
the  Sirdar  has  known  how  to  ensure  the  full  advantage. 
There  was  fine  marching  and  fine  fighting  in  the 
campaign  of  the  Atbara :    the  campaign  would  have 


AN   ENGINEERING  .FEAT.  23 

failed  without  them  ;  but  without  the  railway  there 
could  never  have  been  any  campaign  at  all.  The 
battle  of  the  Atbara  was  won  in  the  workshops  of 
Wady  Haifa. 

Everybody  knew  that  a  railway  from  Haifa  across  the 
desert  to  Abu  Hamed  was  an  impossibility — until  the 
Sirdar  turned  it  into  a  fact.  It  was  characteristic  of 
the  Sirdar's  daring — daring  based  on  complete  know- 
ledge and  just  confidence  in  himself  and  his  instru- 
ments ;  but  to  the  uninformed  it  seems  mad  reckless- 
ness— that  he  actually  launched  his  rails  and  sleepers 
into  the  waterless  desert,  while  the  other  end  of  the  line 
was  still  held  by  the  enemy.  Water  was  bored  for,  and, 
at  the  third  attempt,  found,  which  lightened  the  task  ; 
but  the  engineers  are  convinced  that,  water  or  no  water, 
the  Sirdar's  ingenuity  and  determination  would  have 
carried  the  enterprise  through.  Long  before  the  line 
was  due  to  arrive  Abu  Hamed  had  fallen :  before  the 
end  of  1897  the  line  touched  the  Nile  again  at  that 
point,  234  miles  from  Haifa,  and  the  journey  to  Ber- 
ber took  a  day  instead  of  weeks. 

There  was  no  pause  at  Abu  Hamed ;  work  was  begun 
immediately  on  the  149-mile  stretch  to  the  Atbara. 
At  the  beginning  of  the  year,  when  the  rumours  of 
Mahmud's  advance  began  to  harden  into  credibility 
and  the  British  regiments  were  started  up  the  river, 
rail-head  was  some  twenty  miles  south  of  Abu 
Hamed.  The  object,  of  course,  was  to  push  it  on 
south  of  the  series  of   rapids  ending  at  Geneineteh, 


24  THE  S.M.B. 

some  twenty-odd  miles  short  of  Berber,  which  are 
called  the  Fifth  Cataract.  On  the  falling  river  camel 
portage  had  to  be  used  round  the  broken  water,  which 
was  a  serious  difficulty  in  the  way  of  the  transport 
A  second  object  in  hurrying  on  the  work  was  to  get 
the  sections  of  the  three  new  gunboats  to  the  same 
point  south  of  the  cataract,  where  they  could  be  put 
together  ready  for  the  final  advance. 

It  was  a  heavy  strain,  for  the  railway  had  not  only 
to  carry  up  supplies  and  stores :  it  had  also  to  carry 
the  materials  for  its  own  extension.  There  is  no 
wood  for  sleepers  between  Abu  Hamed  and  the 
Atbara,  much  less  any  possibility  of  providing  rails. 
So  that  all  day  long  you  heard  the  wailing  lilt,  with- 
out which  no  Arab  can  work  in  time ;  all  day  at 
intervals  the  long  material  train  pulled  out  from  the 
beach-siding  piled  up  with  rails  and  sleepers,  paused 
awhile  at  the  bank  of  sand  which  is  the  platform  of 
the  northern  terminus,  and  in  due  time  puffed  off 
southward  till  it  was  lost  among  the  desert  sand- 
hills. 

It  was  a  heavy  handicap  that  an  infant  railway 
should  be  asked  for  double  work,  but  that  was  only 
the  beginning  of  the  difficulty.  The  S.M.E.,  like  every 
thing  else  in  Egypt,  must  be  worked  on  the  cheap. 
There  is  no  trouble  about  the  labour — the  Eailway 
Battalions  supply  that.  The  Eailway  Battalions  are 
raised  by  conscription,  only  instead  of  fighting  with 
Martini  and  bayonet  the  conscripts  fight  with  shovel 


THE  RAILWAY  BATTALIONS.  25 

and  pick.  I  have  heard  it  called  the  Corvie  in  an- 
other form :  so,  if  you  like,  it  is.  But  it  is  no  more 
Corvee  than  the  work  of  sappers  in  any  European 
army.  The  fellah  has  to  shovel  for  his  country  in- 
stead of  fighting  for  it,  and  he  would  much  rather. 
It  is  war  service  which  happens  to  retain  a  permanent 
value  when  war  is  over ;  so  much  the  better  for 
everybody. 

But  if  navvy  labour  is  abundant  and  cheap  and 
efficient,  everything  else  is  scarce  and  cheap  and 
nasty.  English  firemen  and  drivers  are  hard  to  get, 
and  Italian  mechanics  are  largely  employed — so  much 
so,  that  the  Director  of  Railways  has  found  it  worth 
while  to  spare  a  cafe*  for  them  out  of  his  cramped 
elbow-room.  As  for  native  mechanics,  there  are 
branches  of  work  in  which  they  are  hopeless.  As 
fitters  they  are  a  direct  temptation  to  suicide,  for  the 
Arab  mind  can  never  be  brought  to  see  that  a  tenth 
of  an  inch  more  or  less  can  possibly  matter  to  any- 
body. "Malesh,"  he  says,  "it  doesn't  matter;  shove 
it  in."     And  then  the  engine  breaks  down. 

As  for  engines  and  rolling-stock  the  S.M.R.  must 
make  the  best  of  what  it  can  get.  Half-a-dozen  new 
engines  of  English  breed  there  were  when  I  got  to 
Haifa — fine,  glossy,  upstanding,  clean-limbed,  power- 
ful creatures ;  and  it  was  a  joy  to  watch  the  marvelling 
black  sentry  looking  up  to  one  of  them  in  adoration 
and  then  warily  round  lest  anybody  should  seek  to 
steal  it.     There  were  others  ordered,  but — miracle  of 


26  THE  S.M.R. 

national  lunacy! — the  engineering  strike  intervened, 
and  the  orders  had  to  go  to  Baldwin's  of  Philadelphia. 
For  the  rest  the  staff  had  to  mend  up  anything  they 
found  about.  Old  engines  from  Ismail's  abortive  rail- 
way, old  engines  from  Natal,  from  the  Cape,  broken 
and  derelict,  had  to  be  patched  up  with  any  kind  of 
possible  fittings  retrieved  and  adapted  from  the  scrap- 
heap.  Odd  parts  were  picked  up  in  the  sand  and 
fitted  into  their  places  again :  if  they  were  useless 
they  were  promptly  turned  into  something  else  and 
made  useful.  There  are  a  couple  of  Ismail's  boilers  in 
use  now  which  were  found  lying  miles  away  in  the 
desert  and  rolled  in  by  lever  and  hand.  In  the 
engine-shed  you  see  rusty  embryos  of  engines  that 
are  being  tinkered  together  with  bits  of  rubbish  col- 
lected from  everywhere.     And  still  they  move. 

Who  moves  them  ?  It  is  part  of  the  Sirdar's  luck 
— that  luck  which  goes  with  genius — that  he  always 
gets  the  best  conceivable  subordinates.  Conceive  a 
blend  of  French  audacity  of  imagination,  American 
ingenuity,  and  British  doggedness  in  execution,  and 
you  will  have  the  ideal  qualities  for  such  a  work. 
The  Director  of  Railways,  Bimbashi  Girouard,  is  a 
Canadian,  presumably  of  French  derivation.  In  early 
life  he  built  a  section  of  the  Canadian  Pacific.  He 
came  out  to  Egypt  for  the  Dongola  campaign — one  of 
three  subalterns  specially  chosen  from  the  Railway 
Department  of  the  Royal  Engineers.  The  Sudan 
killed    the   other    two   out  of    hand,  but  Bimbashi 


A  CROWNING   WONDER.  27 

Girouard  goes  on  building  and  running  his  railways. 
The  Dongola  line  runs  as  far  as  Kerma,  above  the 
Third  Cataract.  The  Desert  Line  must  wait  at  the 
Atbara  for  a  bridge  before  it  can  be  extended  to  Khar- 
tum. But  already  here  is  something  over  five  hundred 
miles  of  rail  laid  in  a  savage  desert — a  record  to  make 
the  reputation  of  any  engineer  in  the  world,  standing 
to  the  credit  of  a  subaltern  of  sappers.  The  Egyptian 
army  is  a  triumph  of  youth  on  every  side,  but  in  none 
is  it  more  signal  than  in  the  case  of  the  Director  of 
Railways.  He  never  loses  his  head  nor  forgets  his 
own  mind :  he  is  credited  with  being  the  one  man  in 
the  Egyptian  army  who  is  unaffectedly  unafraid  of 
the  Sirdar. 

Having  finished  the  S.M.E.  to  the  Atbara,  Bimbashi 
Girouard  accepted  the  post  of  Director-Genera  of  all 
the  Egyptian  railways.  There  will  be  plenty  of  scope 
for  him  in  the  post,  and  it  will  not  be  wasted.  But 
just  reflect  again  on  this  crowning  wonder  of  British 
Egypt — a  subaltern  with  all  but  Cabinet  rank  and 
£2000  a-year! 

When  the  time  came  to  go  up  by  the  desert  line  an 
engine,  two  trucks,  and  a  fatigue-party  called  at  the 
door  for  our  baggage :  that  is  the  advantage  of  a  rail- 
way-traffic managed  by  subalterns.  We  had  the  luck 
to  get  berths  in  the  big  saloon.  It  is  built  on  the  Indian 
plan — four  beds  in  one  compartment,  eight  in  the  other, 
plenty  of  room  on  the  floor,  and  shutters  everywhere 
to  keep  out  the  sand.    The  train  looked  as  if  the  other 


28  THE  S.M.R. 

end  of  it  must  be  at  Abu  Hamed  already — a  vista  of 
rails,  sleepers,  boxes,  camels,  and  soldiers,  and  two 
turkeys,  the  property  of  a  voluptuous  Brigadier,  bub- 
bling with  indignation  through  the  darkness.  How- 
ever she  ran  out  smoothly  enough  towards  midnight. 
We  slept  peacefully,  four  of  us  —  the  other  made 
night  hideous  with  kicks,  and  exhortations  to  vision- 
ary soldiers  to  fire  low — and  in  the  morning  woke  up 
rather  less  than  a  hundred  miles  on  our  way.  But 
then  the  first  hundred  miles  is  all  up-hill,  though  the 
gradient  is  nowhere  difficult.  The  train  ran  beauti- 
fully, for  while  the  surface  sand  is  very  easy  to  work 
it  has  a  firm  bottom,  and  the  rails  do  not  settle.  All 
day  we  rumbled  on  prosperously,  with  no  mischance 
more  serious  than  a  broken  rail,  and  we  crawled  safely 
over  that. 

Half  the  day  we  read  and  half  the  day  we  played 
cards,  and  when  it  grew  dark  we  sang,  for  all  the  world 
like  Thomas  Atkins.  Every  now  and  then  we  varied  the 
monotony  with  a  meal ;  the  train  stopped  frequently, 
and  even  when  it  did  not  the  pace  was  slow  enough 
for  an  agile  butler  to  serve  lunch  by  jumping  off  his 
truck  and  climbing  on  to  the  saloon  foot-board.  The 
scenery,  it  must  be  owned,  was  monotonous,  and  yet 
not  without  haunting  beauty.  Mile  on  mile,  hour  on 
hour,  we  glided  through  sheer  desert.  Yellow  sand  to 
right  and  left — now  stretching  away  endlessly,  now 
a  valley  between  small  broken  hills.  Sometimes  the 
hills  sloped  away  from  us,  then  they  closed  in  again. 


A  DESERT   SWINDON.  29 

Now  they  were  diaphanous  blue  on  the  horizon, 
now  soft  purple  as  we  ran  under  their  flanks.  But 
always  they  were  steeped  through  and  through  with 
sun  —  hazy,  immobile,  silent.  It  looked  like  a  part 
of  the  world  quite  new,  with  none  of  the  bloom 
rubbed  off.  It  seemed  almost  profanity  that  I  should 
be  intruding  on  the  sanctity  of  the  prime. 

But  I  was  not  the  first  intruder.  Straight,  firm, 
and  purposeful  ran  the  rails.  Now  they  split  into  a 
double  line :  here  was  another  train  waiting — a  string 
of  empty  trucks — and  also  a  tent,  a  little  hut  made  of 
sleeper  baulks,  a  tank,  points,  and  a  board  with  the 
inscription  "  No.  5."  This  was  a  station — a  wayside 
station.  But  No.  6  is  a  Swindon  of  the  desert. 
Every  train  stops  there  half-an-hour  or  more  to  till 
up  with  water,  for  there  is  a  great  trifoliate  well 
there.  Also  the  train  changes  drivers.  And  here,  a 
hundred  miles  into  the  heart  of  the  Nubian  desert, 
two  years  ago  a  sanctuary  of  inviolate  silence,  where 
no  blade  of  green  ever  sprang,  where,  possibly,  no 
foot  trod  since  the  birth  of  the  world,  here  is  a  little 
colony  of  British  engine-drivers.  They  have  a  little 
rest-house  shanty  of  board  and  galvanised  iron ;  there 
are  pictures  from  the  illustrated  papers  on  the  walls, 
and  a  pup  at  the  door.  There  they  swelter  and 
smoke  and  spit  and  look  out  at  the  winking  rails  and 
the  red-hot  sand,  and  wait  till  their  turn  comes  to 
take  the  train.  They  don't  love  the  life — who  would? 
— but  they  stick  to  it  like  Britons,  and  take  the  trains 


30  THE   S.M.R. 

out  and  home.     They,  too,  are  not  the  meanest  of  the 
conquerors  of  the  Sudan. 

Towards  dusk  mimosa  bushes,  dotted  park-wise  over 
the  sand,  began  to  rise  up  on  both  sides  of  us,  then 
palms;  soon  we  were  in  a  thickish  scrub.  The  air 
cooled  and  moistened  from  death  to  life :  we  were 
back  again  on  the  Nile,  at  Abu  Hamed.  Thereafter 
we  slept  peacefully  again,  and  awoke  in  the  midst 
of  a  large  camp  of  white  tents.  They  unhooked  the 
saloon,  but  the  train  crawled  on,  disgorging  rails  and 
sleepers,  till  it  came  to  a  place  where  a  swarm  of 
fellahin  was  shovelling  up  sand  round  the  last  metals. 
The  naked  embankment  ran  straight  and  purposeful 
as  ever,  so  far  as  you  could  see.  Small  in  the  dis- 
tance was  a  white  man  with  a  spirit-level. 


31 


IV 

THE   CORRESPONDENT'S    PROGRESS. 

I  sat  on  a  box  of  tinned  beef,  whisky,  and  other 
delicacies,  dumped  down  on  a  slope  of  loose  sand. 
Bound  me  lay  another  similar  case,  a  tent,  bed,  and 
bath,  all  collapsible  and  duly  collapsed  into  a  brown 
canvas  jacket,  two  brown  canvas  bags  containing 
saddlery,  towels,  and  table-linen,  a  chair  and  a  table 
lashed  together,  a  wash-hand  basin  with  shaving 
tackle  concealed  inside  its  green  canvas  cover,  a 
brown  bag  with  some  clothes  in  it,  a  shining  tin 
canteen,  a  cracking  lunch-basket,  a  driving-coat,  and 
a  hunting-crop.  On  one  side  of  me  rose  the  em- 
bankment of  the  main  line  to  Berber;  fifty  yards 
on  it  ended  suddenly  in  the  sand,  and  a  swarm  of 
Arabs  were  shovelling  up  more  of  it  for  their  lives. 
On  the  other  side  of  me,  detached,  empty,  quite  alone, 
stood  the  saloon  which  brought  me  from  Haifa.  It 
was  going  back  again  to-night,  and  then  I  should 
be  quite  loose  and  outcast  in  the  smiling  Sudan. 
I  sat  and  meditated  on  the  full  significance  of  the 


32        THE  CORRESPONDENT'S  PROGRESS. 

simple  military  phrase,  "  line  of  communications."  It 
is  the  great  discovery  of  the  Sirdar  that  he  has  re- 
cognised that  in  the  Sudan  the  communications  are 
the  essence  and  heart  of  the  whole  problem.  And 
now  I  recognised  it  too. 

It  was  a  long,  long  story  already.  I  was  now  just 
at  the  threshold  of  what  was  regarded  officially  as  the 
difficult  part  of  the  1150  odd  miles  between  Cairo  and 
the  front ;  I  was  still  seventy  miles  or  so  from  Berber 
— and  my  problem,  instead  of  just  beginning,  appeared 
just  on  the  point  of  an  abrupt  and  humiliating  finish. 
The  original  question  was  how  I  was  to  get  myself 
and  my  belongings  to  the  front ;  the  threatened  solu- 
tion was  that  I  should  get  there,  if  at  all,  on  my  feet, 
and  that  my  belongings  would  serve  to  blaze  the  track 
for  anybody  desperate  enough  to  follow. 

I  am  not  an  old  campaigner.  The  old  campaigner, 
as  you  know,  starts  out  with  the  clothes  he  stands 
up  in  and  a  tin-opener.  The  young  campaigner  pro- 
vides the  change  of  linen  and  tins  for  the  old  cam- 
paigner to  open.  So  in  Cairo  I  bought  everything 
I  could  think  of  as  likely  to  palliate  a  summer  in 
the  Sudan.  I  wore  out  my  patience  and  my  legs  a 
whole  week  in  drapers'  shops,  and  saddlers'  shops,  and 
apothecaries'  shops,  and  tobacconists'  shops,  and  tin- 
and-bottle  shops,  and  general  shops.  I  bought  two 
horses  and  two  nigger  boys — one  to  look  after  the 
horses  and  one  to  look  after  me.  One  of  them  I 
bought  through  Cook,  as  one  takes  a  railway-ticket ; 


NATIVE   SERVANTS.  33 

the  other  suddenly  dashed  at  me  in  the  street  with 
a  bundle  of  testimonials  unanimously  stating  that 
he  could  cook  more  or  less,  and  clean  things  if  he 
were  shown  how.  Both  wore  tarbushes  and  striped 
nightgowns,  and  nothing  else  visible,  which  was 
natural;  though  afterwards  they  emerged  in  all  kinds 
of  gorgeousness.  What  was  inconvenient  was  that 
they  neither  of  them  understood  any  language  I  could 
talk,  that  they  both  had  the  same  name,  and  that  I 
could  not  for  the  life  of  me  remember  what  it  was. 
However,  one  was  black  with  red  eyes,  and  the  other 
yellow  with  white ;  and  it  was  something  to  know 
them  apart.  The  black-and-red  one  originally  alleged 
that  he  could  talk  English.  It  was  true  that  he  could 
understand  a  dozen  words  of  that  lingo  if  pronounced 
sloppily  enough  and  put  ungrammatically  together. 
But  when  it  came  to  his  turn  he  could  say  "Yes, 
sir,"  and  then  followed  it  up  with  an  inarticulate 
burble  more  like  the  sound  of  a  distant  railway  train 
than  any  known  form  of  human  speech. 

Anyhow,  I  started.  I  started  with  the  properties 
above  named  and  six  packages  besides.  Some  went 
with  me  on  the  tourist  boat ;  others  went  by  rail  or 
post  boat,  or  Government  barge,  to  await  me ;  others 
stayed  behind  to  follow  me.  I  got  to  Assuan,  and 
there  a  new  trial  awaited  me.  I  had  no  camels,  and 
it  would  be  absurd  to  go  to  the  Sudan  without  camels. 
Now  I  knew  nothing  at  all  of  the  points  of  a  camel, 
nor  of  its  market  price,  nor  what  it  eats,  nor  could  T 


34  THE   CORRESPONDENT'S   PROGRESS. 

ride  it.  However,  camels  had  to  be  bought,  and  I 
borrowed  an  interpreter,  and  wont  out  to  the  Bisharin 
village  outside  Assuan  and  bought  some.  The  in- 
terpreter said  he  knew  all  about  camels,  and  that 
they  were  worth  £27  a  pair. 

First,  though,  they  had  to  be  tried.  The  Bisharin 
were  all  standing  about  grouped  round  little  heaps  of 
dry,  cracked  mud,  which  it  took  a  moment's  consider- 
ation to  recognise  as  their  houses.  Their  costume 
consisted  mainly  of  their  hair — in  little  tight  plaits 
tumbling  every  way  over  their  heads  ;  they  have  it 
done  thus  in  infancy,  and  never  take  it  out  of  curl : 
it  looks  like  the  inside  hair  of  a  horse's  tail,  where 
the  brush  can't  get  at  it.  They  all  talked  at  the 
same  time,  and  gesticulated  furiously. 

The  first  Bishari  was  a  wizened  old  man,  with 
a  wisp  or  two  of  grey  beard,  a  black  shawl,  and 
a  large  expanse  of  chest,  back,  arm,  and  leg,  of 
a  delicate  plum-colour.  With  horrible  noises  he 
pulled  his  camel  down  on  to  its  knees.  The  camel 
made  still  more  horrible  noises ;  it  growled,  and 
screeched,  and  snarled,  and  brayed,  and  gurgled  out 
big  pink  bladders  from  its  inside.  Then  the  old  man 
tied  a  pad  of  sackcloth  on  to  the  beast's  hump  by  way 
of  saddle,  seized  the  halter,  and  leaped  on  sideways  ; 
the  camel  unfolded  its  legs  joint  by  joint  and  leaped 
forward.  The  old  man  whacked  with  a  will,  the 
camel  bounded  up  and  down,  the  old  man  bounced 
in  his  saddle  like   an  india-rubber  ball,  his  shawl 


BUYING  CAMELS.  35 

flapped  out  like  wings,  till  all  his  body  was  native 
pluoi-colour.  Then,  suddenly,  the  camel  gathered 
itself  together  and  soared  aloft — and  the  next  thing 
was  the  old  man  flying  up  to  heaven,  slowly  turning 
over,  and  slowly,  then  quickly,  thudding  to  earth. 
Everybody  roared  with  laughter,  including  the  victim; 
red  was  flowing  fast  over  the  plum-colour  arm,  but  he 
didn't  notice  it.  I  bought  that  camel  on  the  spot — to 
carry  five  hundredweight  of  baggage,  not  me. 

There  was  one  other  cropper  before  the  trials  were 
over,  and  two  of  the  camels  cantered  and  galloped 
round  the  mud  warren  in  a  way  that  made  me 
tremble.  However,  I  trusted  to  luck  against  the 
time  when  I  might  have  to  ride  any  of  them,  and 
bought  with  a  light  heart.  I  also  bought  two  camel- 
men — a  black,  apparently  answering  to  the  name  of 
Jujube,  and  a  yellow,  who  asserted  he  was  my  groom's 
brother.  The  latter  produced,  with  great  pride,  a 
written  testimonial :  it  was  from  a  British  officer,  to 
the  effect  that  he  had  discharged  the  bearer,  and 
would  the  Director  of  Transport  kindly  send  him 
home.  But  I  chanced  that  too ;  and  now,  with  the 
exception  of  the  few  necessaries  that  were  following 
me — and  presumably  are  still — I  was  ready  to  march 
on  Khartum. 

And  now  came  in  the  question  of  the  lines  of  com- 
munication. T  went  to  the  commandant  of  Assuan ; 
could  he  kindly  send  up  my  horses  by  steamer  ?  Yes, 
certainly,  when  there  was  a  steamer  to  send  them  by. 


36        THE  CORRESPONDENT'S  PROGRESS. 

But  steamers  were  few  and  much  in  request  for 
railway  stores  and  supplies.  It  was  a  question  of 
waiting  till  there  should  appear  military  horses  to  go 
up  river.  Mine  must  go  and  stand  in  the  camp 
meanwhile.  Hurrah !  said  I ;  never  mind  about  a 
few  days :  that  was  one  load  off  my  mind.  So  I 
hauled  the  horses  out  of  the  stable,  and  gave  the  syce 
some  money,  and  a  letter  to  say  who  he  was,  and 
peacefully  left  him  to  shift. 

Camels,  being  straggling  and  unportable  beasts, 
could  not  go  by  boat ;  so  I  gave  their  attendants 
also  money,  and  told  them  to  walk  to  Haifa.  Then 
I  went  to  Haifa  myself,  and  waited. 

At  Haifa,  knowing  its  name  so  well,  I  had  expected 
to  find  a  hotel.  So  there  was  one — the  "  Hotel  des 
Voyageurs" — staring  the  landing-stage  in  the  face. 
But  it  was  a  Greek  hostelry,  very  small,  a  mile  from 
the  military  post  of  Haifa,  and  at  this  stage  I  had  a 
mind  above  Greek  hotels.  So  I  went  to  Walker  & 
Co.,  the  universal  provider  of  Haifa.  There  was  no 
immediate  accommodation  for  correspondents.  So  I 
pitched  my  tent  a  little  disconsolately  in  the  com- 
pound, and  sat  down  to  wait  until  there  was. 
Presently  there  was  a  room,  and  in  that  I  sat  down 
to  wait  for  the  camels.  One  day  their  attendant 
grinned  in,  and  shook  hands  with  me;  the  camels 
were  accommodated  with  a  bunk  apiece  in  the  garden, 
and  I  sat  down  again  to  wait  for  the  horses.  I  waited 
many  days  and  then  wired;   the  commandant  wired 


TRANSPORT  DIFFICULTIES.  37 

back,  "Your  horses  cannot  go  by  steamer  at  present." 
When  was  "at  present"  going  to  end?  So  next  I 
wired  to  Cook's  agent  to  send  them  by  road ;  he 
replied  that  they  had  started  four  days  before.  So 
far,  so  good.     I  sat  down  to  wait  some  more. 

Only  two  days  before  they  might  be  expected,  on 
March  1,  came  the  news  that  the  British  brigade 
had  gone  up  to  Berber,  and  that  correspondents  might 
go  too. 

Hurrah  again !  Only  when,  how  ?  0,  you  can 
go  to-morrow  in  the  saloon,  of  course,  to  rail-head. 
And  beyond  ?  Well,  beyond  you  must  take  your 
chance.  Can  camels  go  by  train  ?  It  was  hardly 
likely.  Horses  ?  Not  at  present — and — well — you 
had  better  go  very  light. 

Clearly  everything  that  was  mine  must  take  its 
chance  too.  I  started  the  camels  to  walk  across  the 
desert — two  hundred  and  thirty-four  miles  from  Nile 
to  Nile  again — and  told  them  to  be  quick  about  it. 
Of  course  they  could  never  have  done  it,  but  that 
the  traffic  -  manager  kindly  gave  them  authority  to 
drink  some  of  the  engines'  water  on  the  way.  I  left 
orders  to  the  horses  to  do  the  same;  left  all  my 
heaviest  goods  lying  about  on  the  bank  of  the  Nile ; 
definitely  gave  up  all  hope  of  the  things  that  were 
supposed  to  be  coming  up  after  me ;  started,  and 
arrived  in  the  early  morning  of  March  3. 

Now  came  the  time  to  take  my  chance.  And  here, 
sure   enough,  comes  a  chocolate  Arab,  with  the  in- 


38        THE  CORRESPONDENT'S  PROGRESS. 

formation  that  he  has  any  number  of  camels  to  let. 
The  chance  has  turned  out  a  good  one,  after  all.  But 
then  comes  along  a  fair  Englishman,  on  a  shaggy  grey 
pony ;  I  was  told  he  was  the  Director  of  Transport. 
That's  all  right ;  I'll  ask  his  advice.  Only,  before  I 
could  speak,  he  suavely  drew  the  attention  of  corres- 
pondents to  the  rule  that  any  Arab  hiring  camels 
already  hired  by  the  army  was  liable  to  two  years 
imprisonment.  The  news  was  not  encouraging;  and 
of  course  the  Arabs  swore  that  the  army  had  not 
hired  the  best  camels  at  all.  I  believed  it  at  the 
time,  but  came  to  know  the  Arab  better  afterwards. 
Anyhow  here  I  sat,  amid  the  dregs  of  my  vanishing 
household,  seventy  miles  from  Berber — no  rail,  no 
steamer,  no  horse,  no  camel.  Only  donkeys,  not  to  be 
thought  of — and,  by  George,  legs !  I  never  thought 
of  them,  but  I've  got  'em,  and  why  not  use  'em. 
I'll  walk. 


39 


V. 


I   MARCH   TO   BERBER. 

The  donkeys  had  been  hired,  at  war  prices,  about 
ten  in  the  morning,  delivery  promised  within  an 
hour.  At  three  in  the  afternoon  two  of  us  sweated 
over  from  the  rail -head  to  the  village,  to  try  and 
hurry  them  up.  Fifteen  had  been  ordered ;  five  were 
nearly  ready.  The  sheikh  swore  by  Allah  that  all 
should  be  ready  within  an  hour.  At  five  we  went 
over  again.  There  were  only  four  by  now;  the 
sheikh  swore  by  Allah  that  the  others  should  be 
ready  within  an  hour. 

On  that  we  began  to  threaten  violence ;  whereupon 
round  a  mud -wall  corner  trotted  eighteen  donkey?, 
followed  by  eight  black  men  and  a  boy.  Twenty-two ! 
It  was  late,  but  it  was  better  than  could  be  expected 
of  any  Arab.  We  kept  them  sedulously  in  our  eye 
till  we  had  them  alongside  the  mountainous  confusion 
of  three  correspondents'  light  baggage.  Arrived  at 
the  scene  of  action,  they  sat  down  with  one  consent 
and  looked  at  it. 


40  I  MARCH   TO   BERBER. 

The  only  way  to  hurry  an  Arab  is  to  kill  him, 
after  which  he  is  useless  as  a  donkey-driver;  so  we 
sat  down  too,  and  had  some  tea,  and  looked  at  them. 
Presently  they  made  it  known  that  they  had  no 
rope.  A  rope  was  produced  and  cut  into  lengths; 
each  took  one,  and  sat  and  looked  at  it.  Finally 
arose  an  old,  old  man,  attired  in  a  rag  round  his  head 
and  a  pair  of  drawers :  with  the  eye  of  experience  he 
selected  the  two  lightest  articles,  and  slowly  tied 
them  together.  Example  works  wonders.  There  was 
almost  a  rush  to  secure  the  next  smallest  load,  and 
in  ten  minutes  everything  was  tied  together  and  slung 
across  the  little  pack-saddles,  except  one  load.  This 
they  looked  at  for  a  good  long  time,  reluctant  to  get 
a  piece  of  work  finished ;  at  last  they  felt  justified  in 
loading  this  on  also. 

We  were  ready:  we  were  actually  about  to  start. 
Gratitude  and  wonder  filled  my  soul. 

Three  men,  nine  Arabs,  nine  more  to  see  them  off, 
twenty-two  donkeys — and,  Heaven  forgive  me,  I  had 
almost  forgotten  the  horse.  That  is  to  say,  his  owner 
applied  to  him  an  Arab  word  which  I  understood  to 
mean  horse — plural  before  he  was  produced,  singular 
when  it  was  no  longer  possible  to  allege  that  there 
was  more  than  one  of  him.  Experts  opined  that  he 
might  in  the  remote  past  have  been  a  dervish  horse — 
a  variation  from  the  original  type,  produced  by  never 
feeding  the  animal.  His  teeth,  what  remained  of 
them,  gave  no  clear  evidence  of  his  age,  but  on  a 


A   VETEKAN   STEED.  41 

general  view  of  him  I  should  say  he  was  rising  ninety. 
Early  in  the  century  he  was  probably  chestnut,  but 
now  he  was  partly  a  silver  chestnut  and  partly  pre- 
sented no  impression  of  colour  at  all:  he  was  just 
faded.  He  wore  a  pessimistic  expression,  a  coat  about 
an  inch  and  a  quarter  long  an  open  saddle  sore,  and 
no  flesh  of  any  kind  in  any  corner.  We  offered  him 
fodder — something  like  poor  pea-halm  and  something 
like  string,  only  less  nutritious.  He  looked  at  it 
wearily,  smelt  it,  and  turned  in  perplexity  to  his 
master  as  if  asking  instructions.  He  had  forgotten 
what  food  was  for. 

The  young  moon  was  climbing  up  the  sky  when 
we  set  off.  With  chattering  and  yells  the  donkeys 
and  Arabs  streamed  out  on  to  the  desert  track.  The 
first  load  came  undone  in  the  first  five  minutes,  and 
every  one  had  to  be  readjusted  in  the  first  hour.  The 
Arab,  you  see,  has  only  been  working  with  donkeys 
for  ten  thousand  years  or  so,  and  you  can't  expect 
him  to  have  learned  much  about  it  yet.  But  we  kept 
them  going.  I  was  rearguard  officer,  with  five  Arabic 
words,  expressing  "  Get  on "  in  various  degrees  of 
emphasis,  and  a  hunting-crop. 

We  only  marched  three  hours  to  camp  that  night, 
but  by  the  time  we  off-loaded  in  a  ring  of  palms,  with 
the  Nile  swishing  below  and  the  wind  swishing  over- 
head, we  had  earned  our  dinner  and  some  sleep :  had 
we  not  induced  Arabs  to  start?  And  now  came  in 
one  of  the   conveniences — so  far  the  only  one — of 


42  I  MARCH  TO   BERBER. 

travelling  in  the  Sudan.  "  Three  angarebs,"  said  the 
correspondent  of  experience;  and  back  came  the  ser- 
vants presently  with  three  of  the  stout  wooden  frames 
lashed  across  with  thongs  that  form  the  Sudan  bed: 
you  can  get  them  anywhere  there  is  a  village — as 
a  rule,  to  be  sure,  there  is  none — and  they  are  luxuri- 
ous beyond  springs  and  feathers. 

At  half-past  one  I  opened  my  eyes  and  saw  the 
moon  stooping  down  to  meet  the  fringe  of  palm  leaves. 
The  man  of  experience  sat  up  on  his  angareb  and  cried 
Awake."  They  did  awake :  three  hours'  sleep  is  not 
long  enough  to  make  you  sleepy.  We  loaded  up  by 
the  last  moonlight,  and  took  the  road  again.  For 
nearly  three  hours  the  rustling  on  our  right  and  the 
line  of  palms  showed  that  we  kept  to  the  Nile  bank ; 
then  at  five  we  halted  to  water  the  donkeys — they  eat 
when  they  can  and  what  they  can — and  started  for  a 
long  spell  across  the  desert.  Grey  dawn  showed  us  a 
gentle  swell  of  stony  sand,  hard  under  foot ;  freshness 
came  with  it  to  man  and  beast,  and  we  struck  forward 
briskly. 

When  the  sun  came  up  on  us,  I  saw  the  caravan 
for  the  first  time  plainly ;  and  I  was  very  glad  we 
were  not  likely  to  meet  anybody  I  knew.  My  kit 
looked  respectable  enough  in  the  train,  and  in  Berber 
it  went  some  way  to  the  respectable  furnishing  of  a 
house.  But  as  piled  by  Sudanese  Arabs  on  to  donkeys 
it  was  disreputable,  dishevelled,  a  humiliation  beyond 
blushes.     The  canteen,  the  chair  and  table  that  had 


▲  PICTURESQUE  CARAVAN.  43 

looked  so  neat  and  workmanlike,  on  the  donkey  be- 
came the  pots  and  sticks  of  a  gipsy  encampment.  My 
tent  was  a  slipshod  monstrosity,  my  dressing  -  case 
blatantly  secondhand,  my  washing  basin  was  posi- 
tively indecent.  To  make  things  worse,  they  had 
trimmed  my  baggage  up  with  garbage  of  their  own 
— dirty  bags  of  dates  and  cast-off  clothing.  They 
mostly  insisted  on  riding  the  smallest  and  heaviest- 
laden  donkeys  themselves,  jumping  at  a  bound  on 
to  the  jogging  load  of  baggage  with  four  legs  patter- 
ing underneath,  and  had  to  be  flogged  off  again.  And 
to  finish  my  shame,  here  was  I  trudging  behind, 
cracking  and  flicking  at  donkeys  and  half- naked  black 
men,  like  a  combination  of  gipsy,  horse  -  coper,  and 
slave-driver. 

But  we  travelled.  Some  of  the  donkeys  were 
hardly  bigger  than  collies,  and  their  drivers  did  all 
that  laziness  and  ineptitude  could  suggest  to  keep 
them  back;  but  we  travelled.  It  came  to  my  turn 
of  the  horse  about  half-past  six  or  so:  certainly  he 
was  not  a  beast  to  make  comparisons  on,  but  the 
donkeys  left  him  behind  unless  you  made  him  trot, 
which  was  obviously  cruel.  I  should  say  they  kept 
up  four  miles  an  hour  with  a  little  driving. 

We  gave  ourselves  an  hour  at  eight  for  breakfast, 
and  the  end  of  the  march  was  in  soft  sand  under  a 
cruel  sun.  It  was  not  till  nearly  one  that  the  camel 
thorn — all  stalk  and  prickles,  no  leaves — gave  way 
to  palms  again,  and  again  we  looked  down  on  the 


44  I  MAKCH   TO   BERBER 

Nile.  A  single  palm  gives  almost  as  much  shade 
as  an  umbrella  with  the  silk  off,  but  we  found  four 
together,  and  a  breeze  from  the  river,  and  a  drink — 

0  that  first  drink  in  a  Sudan  camp ! — and  lunch  and 
a  sleep,  and  a  tub  and  tea,  and  we  reflected  on  our 
ten  hours'  march  and  were  happy.  At  five  we 
joggled  off  again. 

We  lost  the  place  we  had  intended  to  camp  at,  and 
the  desert  began  to  get  rugged  and  to  produce  itself 
ever  so  far  both  ways,  like  the  parallel  lines  in  Euclid, 
and  we  never  got  any  farther  forward  on  it.  It  got 
to  be  a  kind  of  treadmill — we  going  on  and  the  desert 
going  back  under  us.  But  at  last  we  did  get  to  a 
place — didn't  know  its  name,  nor  cared — and  went  to 
sleep  a  little  more.  And  in  the  pale  morning  by 
happy  luck  we  found  two  camels,  and  two  of  us 
trotted  joyously  forward  past  swimming  mirages  and 
an  endless  string  of  ruined  mud  villages  into  mud 
Berber.  The  donkeys  were  not  much  behind  either: 
they  did  about  seventy  miles  in  forty-two  hours.     But 

1  am  afraid  it  must  have  been  the  death  of  the  horse, 
and  I  am  sorry.  It  seems  a  cruelty  to  kill  him  just  as 
he  was  beginning  to  be  immortal 


45 


VI 


THE    SIRDAR. 


Major-General  Sir  Horatio  Herbert  Kitchener  is 
forty-eight  years  old  by  the  book ;  but  that  is  irrele- 
vant. He  stands  several  inches  over  six  feet,  straight 
as  a  lance,  and  looks  out  imperiously  above  most  men's 
heads ;  his  motions  are  deliberate  and  strong ;  slender 
but  firmly  knit,  he  seems  built  for  tireless,  steel- wire 
endurance  rather  than  for  power  or  agility :  that  also 
is  irrelevant.  Steady  passionless  eyes  shaded  by  de- 
cisive brows,  brick -red  rather  full  cheeks,  a  long 
moustache  beneath  which  you  divine  an  immovable 
mouth;  his  face  is  harsh,  and  neither  appeals  for 
affection  nor  stirs  dislike.  All  this  is  irrelevant  too : 
neither  age,  nor  figure,  nor  face,  nor  any  accident  of 
person,  has  any  bearing  on  the  essential  Sirdar.  You 
could  imagine  the  character  just  the  same  as  if  all  the 
externals  were  different.  He  has  no  age  but  the  prime 
of  life,  no  body  but  one  to  carry  his  mind,  no  face 
but  one  to  keep  his  brain  behind.  The  brain  and  the 
will  are  the  essence  and  the  whole  of  the  man — a 


46  THE   SIRDAR. 

brain  and  a  will  so  perfect  in  their  workings  that, 
in  the  face  of  extremest  difficulty,  they  never  seem 
to  know  what  struggle  is.  You  cannot  imagine  the 
Sirdar  otherwise  than  as  seeing  the  right  thing  to  do 
and  doing  it.  His  precision  is  so  inhumanly  unerring, 
he  is  more  like  a  machine  than  a  man.  You  feel  that 
he  ought  to  be  patented  and  shown  with  pride  at 
the  Paris  International  Exhibition.  British  Empire: 
Exhibit  No.  I.,  hors  contours,  the  Sudan  Machine. 

It  was  aptly  said  of  him  by  one  who  had  closely 
watched  him  in  his  office,  and  in  the  field,  and  at 
mess,  that  he  is  the  sort  of  feller  that  ought  to  be 
made  manager  of  the  Army  and  Navy  Stores.  The 
aphorist's  tastes  lay  perhaps  in  the  direction  of  those 
more  genial  virtues  which  the  Sirdar  does  not  possess, 
yet  the  judgment  summed  him  up  perfectly.  He 
would  be  a  splendid  manager  of  the  Army  and  Navy 
Stores.  There  are  some  who  nurse  a  desperate  hope 
that  he  may  some  day  be  appointed  to  sweep  out  the 
War  Office.  He  would  be  a  splendid  manager  of  the 
War  Office.  He  would  be  a  splendid  manager  of 
anything. 

But  it  so  happens  that  he  has  turned  himself  to  the 
management  of  war  in  the  Sudan,  and  he  is  the  com- 
plete and  the  only  master  of  that  art.  Beginning  life 
in  the  Royal  Engineers — a  soil  reputed  more  favour- 
able to  machinery  than  to  human  nature — he  early 
turned  to  the  study  of  the  Levant.  He  was  one  of 
Beaconsfield's  military  vice-consuls  in  Asia  Minor ;  he 


FIFTEEN  YEARS  OF   EGYPT.  47 

was  subsequently  director  of  the  Palestine  Explora- 
tion Fund.  At  the  beginning  of  the  Sudan  troubles 
he  appeared.  He  was  one  of  the  original  twenty-five 
officers  who  set  to  work  on  the  new  Egyptian  army. 
And  in  Egypt  and  the  Sudan  he  has  been  ever  since — 
on  the  staff  generally,  in  the  field  constantly,  alone 
with  natives  often,  mastering  the  problem  of  the 
Sudan  always.  The  ripe  harvest  of  fifteen  years  is 
that  he  knows  everything  that  is  to  be  learned  of  his 
subject.  He  has  seen  and  profited  by  the  errors  of 
others  as  by  their  successes.  He  has  inherited  the 
wisdom  and  the  achievements  of  his  predecessors.  He 
came  at  the  right  hour,  and  he  was  the  right  man. 

Captain  E.E.,  he  began  in  the  Egyptian  army  as 
second-in-command  of  a  regiment  of  cavalry.  In 
Wolseley's  campaign  he  was  Intelligence  Officer.  Dur- 
ing the  summer  of  188-1  he  was  at  Korosko,  negoti- 
ating with  the  Ababdeh  sheiks  in  view  of  an  advance 
across  the  desert  to  Abu  Hamed ;  and  note  how 
characteristically  he  has  now  bettered  the  then 
abandoned  project  by  going  that  way  to  Berber  and 
Khartum  himself — only  with  a  railway!  The  idea  of 
the  advance  across  the  desert  he  took  over  from  Lord 
Wolseley, and  indeed  from  immemorial  Arab  caravans; 
and  then,  for  his  own  stroke  of  insight  and  resolu- 
tion amounting  to  genius,  he  turned  a  raid  into  an 
irresistible  certain  conquest,  by  superseding  camels 
with  the  railway.  Others  had  thought  of  the  desert 
route :  the  Sirdar,  correcting  Korosko  to  Haifa,  used 


48  THE   SIRDAR. 

it.  Others  had  projected  desert  railways :  the  Sirdar 
made  one.  That,  summarised  in  one  instance,  is  the 
working  of  the  Sudan  machine. 

As  Intelligence  Officer  Kitchener  accompanied  Sir 
Herbert  Stewart's  desert  column,  and  you  may  be 
sure  that  the  utter  breakdown  of  transport  which 
must  in  any  case  have  marred  that  heroic  folly  was 
not  unnoticed  by  him.  Afterwards,  through  the  long 
decade  of  little  fights  that  made  the  Egyptian  array, 
Kitchener  was  fully  employed.  In  1887  and  1888  he 
commanded  at  Suakim,  and  it  is  remarkable  that  his 
most  important  enterprise  was  half  a  failure.  He 
attacked  Osman  Digna  at  Handub,  when  most  of  the 
Emir's  men  were  away  raiding ;  and  although  he 
succeeded  in  releasing  a  number  of  captives,  he 
thought  it  well  to  retire,  himself  wounded  in  the 
face  by  a  bullet,  without  any  decisive  success.  The 
withdrawal  was  in  no  way  discreditable,  for  his  force 
was  a  jumble  of  irregulars  and  levies  without  dis- 
cipline. But  it  is  not  perhaps  fanciful  to  believe  that 
the  Sirdar,  who  has  never  given  battle  without  mak- 
ing certain  of  an  annihilating  victory,  has  not  for- 
gotten his  experience  of  haphazard  Bashi-Bazouking 
at  Handub. 

He  had  his  revenge  before  the  end  of  1888,  when 
he  led  a  brigade  of  Sudanese  over  Osman's  trenches  at 
Gemaizeh.  Next  year  at  Toski  he  again  commanded 
a  brigade.  In  1890  he  succeeded  Sir  Francis  Gren- 
fell  as  Sirdar.     That  he  meant  to  be  Sirdar  in  fact  as 


THE  SUDAN  MACHINE.  49 

well  as  name  he  showed  in  1894.  The  young  Khe- 
dive travelled  south  to  the  frontier,  and  took  the 
occasion  to  insult  every  British  officer  he  came  across. 
Kitchener  promptly  gave  battle  :  he  resigned,  a  crisis 
came,  and  the  Khedive  was  obliged  to  do  public 
penance  by  issuing  a  General  Order  in  praise  of  the 
discipline  of  the  army  and  of  its  British  officers. 
Two  years  later  he  began  the  reconquest  of  the 
Sudan.  Without  a  single  throw-back  the  work  has 
gone  forward  since — but  not  without  intervals.  The 
Sirdar  is  never  in  a  hurry.  With  immovable  self- 
control  he  holds  back  from  each  step  till  the  ground 
is  consolidated  under  the  last.  The  real  fighting 
power  of  the  Sudan  lies  in  the  country  itself — in  its 
barrenness  which  refuses  food,  and  its  vastness  which 
paralyses  transport.  The  Sudan  machine  obviates 
barrenness  and  vastness :  the  bayonet  action  stands 
still  until  the  railway  action  lias  piled  the  camp  with 
supplies  or  the  steamer  action  can  run  with  a  full 
Nile.  Fighting  men  may  chafe  and  go  down  with 
typhoid  and  cholera :  they  are  in  the  iron  grip  of  the 
machine,  and  they  must  wait  the  turn  of  its  wheels. 
Dervishes  wait  and  wonder,  passing  from  apprehension 
to  security.  The  Turks  are  not  coming ;  the  Turks 
are  afraid.  Then  suddenly  at  daybreak  one  morning 
they  see  the  Sirdar  advancing  upon  them  from  all 
sides  together,  and  by  noon  they  are  dead.  Patient 
and  swift,  certain  and  relentless,  the  Sudan  machine 
rolls  conquering  southward. 


50  THE   SIRDAR. 

In  the  meantime,  during  all  the  years  of  preparation 
and  achievement,  the  man  has  disappeared.  The  man 
Herbert  Kitchener  owns  the  affection  of  private 
friends  in  England  and  of  old  comrades  of  fifteen 
years'  standing;  for  the  rest  of  the  world  there  is 
no  man  Herbert  Kitchener,  but  only  the  Sirdar, 
neither  asking  affection  nor  giving  it.  His  officers  and 
men  are  wheels  in  the  machine :  he  feeds  them  enough 
to  make  them  efficient,  and  works  them  as  mercilessly 
as  he  works  himself.  He  will  have  no  married  offi- 
cers in  his  army  —  marriage  interferes  with  work. 
Any  officer  who  breaks  down  from  the  climate  goes 
on  sick  leave  once :  next  time  he  goes,  and  the  Egyp- 
tian army  bears  him  on  its  strength  no  more.  Asked 
once  why  he  did  not  let  his  officers  come  down  to 
Cairo  during  the  season  he  replied,  "  If  it  were  to 
go  home,  where  they  would  get  fit  and  I  could  get 
more  work  out  of  them,  I  would.  But  why  should  I 
let  them  down  to  Cairo  ? "  It  is  unamiable,  but  it 
is  war,  and  it  has  a  severe  magnificence.  And  if  you 
suppose,  therefore,  that  the  Sirdar  is  unpopular,  he  is 
not.  No  general  is  unpopular  who  always  beats  the 
enemy.  When  the  columns  move  out  of  camp  in  the 
evening  to  march  all  night  through  the  dark,  they 
know  not  whither,  and  fight  at  dawn  with  an  enemy 
they  have  never  seen,  every  man  goes  forth  with  a 
tranquil  mind.  He  may  personally  come  back  and 
he  may  not ;  but  about  the  general  result  there  is  not 
a  doubt.     You  bet  your  boots  the  Sirdar  knows :  he 


A  BRILLIANT  CAREER.  51 

wouldn't  fight  if  he  weren't  going  to  win.  Other 
generals  have  been  better  loved ;  none  was  ever  better 
trusted. 

For  of  one  human  weakness  the  Sirdar  is  be- 
lieved not  to  have  purged  himself  —  ambition.  He 
is  on  his  promotion,  a  man  who  cannot  afford  to 
make  a  mistake.  Homilies  against  ambition  may  be 
left  to  those  who  have  failed  in  their  own :  the 
Sirdar's,  if  apparently  purely  personal,  is  legitimate 
and  even  lofty.  He  has  attained  eminent  distinction 
at  an  exceptionally  early  age :  he  has  commanded  vic- 
torious armies  at  an  age  when  most  men  are  hoping 
to  command  regiments.  Even  now  a  junior  Major- 
General,  he  has  been  intrusted  with  an  army  of  six 
brigades,  a  command  such  as  few  of  his  seniors  have 
ever  led  in  the  field.  Finally,  he  has  been  charged 
with  a  mission  such  as  almost  every  one  of  them 
would  have  greedily  accepted, — the  crowning  triumph 
of  half  a  generation's  war.  Naturally  he  has  awak- 
ened jealousies,  and  he  has  bought  permission  to  take 
each  step  on  the  way  only  by  brilliant  success  in  the 
last.  If  in  this  case  he  be  not  so  stiffly  unbending  to 
the  high  as  he  is  to  the  low,  who  shall  blame  him  ? 
He  has  climbed  too  high  not  to  take  every  precaution 
against  a  fall. 

But  he  will  not  fall,  just  yet  at  any  rate.  So  far 
as  Egypt  is  concerned  he  is  the  man  of  destiny — the 
man  who  has  been  preparing  himself  sixteen  years  for 
one   great  purpose.       For   Anglo  -  Egypt    he    is  the 


52  THE   SIRDAR. 

Mahdi,  the  expected ;  the  man  who  has  sifted  experi- 
ence and  corrected  error;  who  has  worked  at  small 
things  and  waited  for  great ;  marble  to  sit  still  and  fire 
to  smite ;  steadfast,  cold,  and  inflexible  ;  the  man  who 
has  cut  out  his  human  heart  and  made  himself  a 
machine  to  retake  Khartum. 


53 


VII 


ARMS    AND    MEN. 


The  campaign  of  1897,  which  opened  with  General 
Hunter's  advance  from  Merawi  on  Abu  Hamed, 
ended  with  the  occupation  of  the  Nile  valley  as  far 
as  Ed  Damer,  seven  miles  beyond  the  junction  of  that 
river  and  the  Atbara.  At  the  beginning  of  March, 
when  I  reached  the  front,  the  advanced  post  had 
been  withdrawn  from  Ed  Damer,  which  had  been 
destroyed,  and  established  at  Fort  Atbara  in  the 
northern  angle  of  the  two  rivers.  Between  that 
point  and  Berber,  twenty  -  three  miles  north,  was 
stationed  the  army  with  which  it  was  proposed  to 
meet  the  threatened  attack  of  Osman  Digna  and 
Mahmud. 

It  was  not  possible  to  use  the  whole  force  at  the 
Sirdar's  disposition  for  that  purpose.  The  Anglo- 
Egyptian  strategical  position  was  roughly  a  semi- 
circle, with  Omdurman  and  Khartum  for  a  centre,  so 
that  the  Khalifa  held  the  advantage  of  the  interior. 
The    westward    horn    of     the     semicircle    was    the 


54  ARMS  AND   MEN. 

garrisons  of  Dongola,  Korti,  and  Merawi ;  the  east- 
ward that  of  Kassala.  In  advance  of  the  regular 
garrisons,  friendly  Arabs  held  a  fan -shaped  series 
of  intelligence  posts  in  the  Bayuda  desert,  and  at 
Adarama,  Gos  Eedjeb  and  El  Fasher  on  the  upper 
reaches  of  the  Atbara.  The  Dervishes  maintained 
one  desert  post  at  Gebra  to  the  north-west  of  Omdur- 
man,  and  one  to  the  north-east  at  Abu  Delek.  But 
hemmed  in  as  they  were,  they  had  the  manifest 
advantage  that  they  could  always  strike  at  the  newly 
recovered  province  of  Dongola  by  the  various  routes 
across  the  Bayuda  desert.  So  that  Korti  and  Merawi 
had  to  be  garrisoned,  as  well  as  Kassala. 

The  garrisons,  though  they  never  so  much  as  saw 
the  enemy,  played,  nevertheless,  an  indispensable  part 
in  the  Atbara  campaign.  The  infantry  of  the  force 
immediately  under  the  Sirdar's  eye  was  divided  into 
four  brigades — three  Egyptian,  one  British.  The  divi- 
sion of  the  Egyptian  army,  counting  three  brigades, 
was  under  the  command  of  Major-General  Archibald 
Hunter. 

If  the  Sirdar  is  the  brain  of  the  Egyptian  army, 
General  Hunter  is  its  sword-arm.  First  and  above 
everything,  he  is  a  fighter.  For  fourteen  years  he 
has  been  in  the  front  of  all  the  fighting  on  the 
Southern  border.  He  was  Intelligence  Officer  dur- 
ing the  anxious  days  before  Ginnis,  when  the 
Camerons  and  9th  Sudanese  were  beset  by  tri- 
umphant  dervishes   in   Kosheh   fort,   and  reinforce- 


MAJOR- GENEKAL  HUNTER.  55 

ments  were  far  to  the  northward.  Going  out  on  a 
sortie  one  day,  he  lingered  behind  the  retiring  force 
to  pick  off  dervishes  with  a  rifle  he  was  wont  to 
carry  on  such  occasions :  there  he  received  a  wound 
in  the  shoulder,  which  he  is  not  quit  of  to-day. 
When  Nejumi  came  down  in  '89,  Hunter  was  in 
the  front  of  everything :  he  fought  all  day  at  the 
head  of  the  blacks  at  Argin,  and  commanded  a 
brigade  of  them  at  Toski.  Here  he  was  again 
wounded  —  a  spear-thrust  in  the  arm  while  he  was 
charging  the  thickest  of  the  Dervishes  at  the  head 
of  the  13th.  Thereafter  he  was  Governor  of  the 
frontier  at  Haifa,  Governor  of  the  frontier  at  Don- 
gola,  Governor  of  the  frontier  at  Berber — always  on 
the  frontier.  When  there  was  fighting  he  always  led 
the  way  to  it  with  his  blacks,  whom  he  loves  like 
children,  and  who  love  him  like  a  father.  Fourteen 
years  of  bugle  and  bullet  by  night  and  day,  in  sum- 
mer and  winter,  fighting  Dervishes,  Dervishes  year  in 
and  year  out — till  fighting  Dervishes  has  come  to  be 
a  holy  mission,  pursued  with  a  burning  zeal  akin  to 
fanaticism.  Hunter  Pasha  is  the  crusader  of  the 
nineteenth  century. 

In  all  he  is  and  does  he  is  the  true  knight-errant 
— a  paladin  drifted  into  his  wrong  century.  He  is 
one  of  those  happy  men  whom  nature  has  made  all 
in  one  piece — consistent,  simple,  unvarying;  every- 
thing he  does  is  just  like  him.  He  is  short  and  thick- 
set ;  but  that,  instead  of  making  him  unromantic,  only 


56  ARMS   AND   MEN. 

draws  your  eye  to  his  long  sword.  From  the  feather 
in  his  helmet  to  the  spurs  on  his  heels,  he  is  all  energy 
and  dancing  triumph ;  every  movement  is  vivacious, 
and  he  walks  with  his  keen  conquering  hazel  eye  look- 
ing out  and  upward,  like  an  eagle's.  Sometimes  you 
will  see  on  his  face  a  look  of  strain  and  tension,  which 
tells  of  the  wound  he  always  carries  with  him.  Then 
you  will  see  him  lolling  under  a  palm-tree,  while  his 
staff  are  sitting  on  chairs;  light-brown  hair  rumpled 
over  his  bare  head,  like  a  happy  schoolboy.  When  I 
first  saw  him  thus,  being  blind,  I  conceived  him  a 
subaltern,  and  offered  opinions  with  indecorous  free- 
dom :   he  left  the  error  to  rebuke  itself. 

Reconnoitring  almost  alone  up  to  the  muzzles  of 
the  enemy's  rifles,  charging  bare-headed  and  leading 
on  his  blacks,  going  without  his  rest  to  watch  over  the 
comfort  of  the  wounded,  he  is  always  the  same — 
always  the  same  impossible  hero  of  a  book  of  chivalry. 
He  is  renowned  as  a  brave  man  even  among  British 
officers:  you  know  what  that  means.  But  he  is 
much  more  than  a  tilting  knight -errant;  he  is  one 
of  the  finest  leaders  of  troops  in  the  army.  Re- 
port has  it  that  the  Sirdar,  knowing  his  worth, 
leaves  the  handling  of  the  actual  fighting  largely  to 
Hunter,  and  he  never  fails  to  plan  and  execute  a 
masterly  victory.  A  sound  and  brilliant  general,  you 
would  say  his  one  fault  was  his  reckless  daring ;  but 
that,  too,  in  an  army  of  semi-savages,  is  a  necessary 
quality  of  generals! lip.     Furthermore,  they  say  he  is 


"OLD  MAC."  57 

as  good  in  an  office  as  he  is  in  action.  Above  all, 
he  can  stir  and  captivate  and  lead  men.  "  General 
Archie"  is  the  wonder  and  the  darling  of  all  the 
Egyptian  army.  And  when  the  time  comes  that 
we  want  a  new  national  hero,  it  may  be  he  will  be 
the  wonder  and  the  darling  of  all  the  Empire  also. 
The  First  Brigade  of  Hunter's  division  was  still 
quartered  in  Berber.  It  consisted  of  the  9th  Sudanese 
under  Walter  Bey,  10th  Sudanese  (Nason  Bey),  11th 
Sudanese  (Jackson  Bey),  and  2nd  Egyptian  (Pink 
Bey).  The  brigadier  was  Lieutenant-Colonel  Hector 
Archibald  Macdonald,  one  of  the  soundest  soldiers  in 
the  Egyptian  or  British  armies.  He  had  seen  more 
and  more  varied  service  than  any  man  in  the  force. 
Promoted  from  the  ranks  after  repeated  and  con- 
spicuous acts  of  gallantry  in  the  Afghan  war,  he  was 
taken  prisoner  at  Majuba  Hill.  He  joined  the  Egyp- 
tian army  in  1887,  and  commanded  the  11th  Sudanese 
at  Gemaizeh,  Toski,  and  Afafit.  At  Gemaizeh  the 
11th,  ever  anxious  to  be  at  the  enemy,  broke  its 
formation;  and  it  is  said  that  Macdonald  Bey,  after 
exhausting  Arabic  and  Hindustani,  turned  in  despair 
to  abusing  them  in  broad  Scots.  Finally,  he  rode  up 
and  down  in  front  of  their  rifles,  and  at  last  got  them 
steady  under  a  heavy  fire  from  men  who  would  far 
rather  have  killed  themselves  than  him.  In  the  cam- 
paigns of  '96  and  '97  he  was  intrusted  with  a  brigade; 
he  showed  a  rare  gift  for  the  handling  of  troops,  and 
wherever    the    fighting  was    hardest   there   was    his 


58  ARMS  AND   MEN. 

brigade  to  be  found.  In  person,  "  old  Mac  " — he  is 
under  fifty,  but  anything  above  forty  is  elderly  in  the 
Egyptian  army — is  of  middle  height,  but  very  broad, — 
so  sturdily  built  that  you  might  imagine  him  to  be 
armour-plated  under  his  clothes.  He  walks  and  rides 
with  a  resolute  solidity  bespeaking  more  strength  than 
agility.  He  has  been  known  to  have  fever,  but  never 
to  be  unfit  for  duty. 

The  Second  Brigade  also  consisted  of  three  Sudanese 
battalions  and  one  Egyptian  —  the  12th,  13th,  and 
14th  Sudanese  (Townshend,  Collinson,  and  Shekleton 
Beys),  and  the  8th  Egyptian  under  Kiloussi  Bey,  a 
soldierly  old  Turk  who  was  through  the  Russo-Turkish 
war.  Lieutenant-Colonel  Maxwell  commanded  it — 
an  officer  who  has  served  in  the  Egyptian  army 
through  all  its  successes;  big,  masterful,  keen,  and 
reputed  an  especially  able  military  administrator,  he 
is  but  just  entering  middle  age,  and  ought  to  have  a 
brilliant  career  before  him.  This  brigade  was  quar- 
tered at  Essillem,  about  half-way  between  Berber  and 
the  Atbara. 

At  the  Atbara  was  Lieutenant-Colonel  Lewis  with 
an  all -Egyptian  brigade  —  the  3rd,  4th,  and  15th, 
under  Sillem,  Sparkes,  and  Hickman  Beys,  and  the 
7th  under  Fathy  Bey,  a  big,  smiling  Egyptian  of  great 
energy  and  ability,  a  standing  contradiction  of  the 
theory  that  a  native  Egyptian  can  never  make  a 
smart  officer.  The  brigadier  is  one  of  the  most 
popular  officers  in  this  or  any  other  army.     Colonel 


LEWIS  BEY.  59 

Lewis's  talents  and  abounding  vitality  would  have 
led  him  to  distinction  in  any  career.  From  the  fact 
that  he  is  affectionately  known  as  "Taffy,"  it  may  be 
deduced  that  he  is  in  whole  or  part  a  Welshman — 
certainly  he  is  richly  dowered  with  the  vivacity,  the 
energy,  and  the  quickness  of  uptake  of  the  Celt. 
He  treats  his  staff  and  subordinates  like  younger 
brothers,  and  discipline  never  suffers.  I  have  heard 
him  say  that  he  is  always  talking,  but  he  is  also 
always  very  much  worth  listening  to.  Finally,  I 
once  went  into  a  store  in  Berber  and  proposed  to 
buy  tinned  Brussels  sprouts.  "But  are  they  fit  to 
eat  ? "  I  asked,  in  sudden  doubt.  "  Oh  yes,  sir,"  cried 
the  unshaven  Greek,  with  enthusiasm ;  "  Lewis  Bey 
likes  them  very  much." 

Taking  the  strength  of  a  battalion  at  700  rifles, 
each  infantry  brigade  would  number  2800  men.  To 
these  we  must  add  the  cavalry  under  Lieutenant- 
Colonel  Broadwood,  a  rapid,  adroit,  and  daring 
leader :  long-legged,  light,  built  for  a  horseman,  never 
tired,  never  more  than  half  asleep,  never  surprised, 
never  flurried,  never  slow,  he  is  the  ideal  of  a 
cavalry  general.  The  Egyptian  trooper  is  a  being 
entirely  unlike  anything  else  in  the  world.  What 
miracles  of  patience  and  tact,  toil  and  daring,  have 
been  devoted  to  him  will  never  be  known;  for  the 
men  who  did  it  will  not  tell.  The  eight  squadrons, 
with  galloping  Maxims,  were  at  this  time  divided 
between   the   three  Egyptian   camps.     So  were  five 


60  AKMS  AND   MEN. 

batteries  of  artillery,  the  command  of  which  was 
with  Lieutenant-Colonel  Long — slow  of  speech,  veil- 
ing a  passionate  tenderness  for  guns  and  a  deadly 
knowledge  of  everything  pertaining  to  them.  Finally, 
there  were  two  companies  of  camel  corps  with  the 
Third  Brigade.  The  whole  strength  of  the  Egyptian 
force  would  thus  fall  not  very  far  short  of  10,000  men, 
with  46  guns.  Operating  from  Port  Atbara  were  also 
three  gunboats. 

One  mile  north  of  the  Second  Brigade,  Major- 
General  Gatacre's  British  were  encamped  at  Debeika. 
At  this  time  it  had  only  three  battalions — the  1st 
Lincolnshire  (10th)  under  Colonel  Verner,  1st  Cameron 
Highlanders  (79th)  under  Colonel  Money,  and  1st 
Warwickshire  (6th)  under  Lieutenant-Colonel  Quayle- 
Jones.  The  1st  Seaforth  Highlanders  (72nd:  Colonel 
Murray)  were  under  orders,  as  we  heard,  to  come  up 
and  complete  the  brigade.  Besides  the  infantry,  there 
was  a  battery  of  Maxims  under  Major  Hunter-Blair. 
The  brigade  was  as  fine  a  one  as  you  could  well  pick 
out  of  the  army,  whether  for  shooting,  average  of 
service,  or  strength.  Two  companies  of  the  Warwicks 
had  been  sent,  to  their  despair,  to  Merawi ;  but  even 
so  the  strength  of  the  brigade  must  have  been  over 
2500. 

General  Gatacre  came  up  with  a  great  reputation, 
which  he  seized  every  occasion  to  increase.  His  one 
overmastering  quality  is  tireless,  abounding,  almost 
superhuman  energy.     From  the  moment  he  is  first 


"GENERAL  BACK-ACHER."  61 

out  of  his  hut  at  reveille  to  the  time  when  he  goes 
nodding  from  mess  to  bed  at  nine,  he  seems  possessed 
by  a  demon  that  whips  him  ever  into  activity.  Of 
middle  height  and  lightly  built,  his  body  is  all  steel 
wire.  As  a  man  he  radiates  a  gentle,  serious  courtesy. 
As  a  general,  if  he  has  a  fault  it  lies  on  the  side  of 
not  leaving  enough  to  his  subordinates.  Restless 
brain  and  body  will  ever  be  at  something  new — 
working  out  a  formation,  riding  hours  across  country 
looking  for  a  camp,  devising  means  to  get  through  a 
zariba,  personally  superintending  the  making  of  a 
road,  addressing  the  men  after  church  parade  every 
Sunday.  In  the  ranks  they  call  him  "General 
Back-acher,"  and  love  him.  "  He  is  the  soldier's 
general,"  I  have  heard  rapturous  Tommy  exclaim, 
when  the  brigadier  has  been  satisfying  himself  in 
person  that  nobody  wanted  for  what  could  be 
obtained.  Later  on  in  the  campaign  some  thought 
he  drove  his  officers  and  men  a  little  hard.  But 
whatever  he  asked  of  them  in  labour  and  discomfort 
he  was  always  ready  to  double  and  treble  for  him- 
self. 

This,  then,  was  the  Sirdar's  command — ^a  total  of 
12,000  to  13,000  men,  with  52  guns.  The  Seaforths 
might  be  expected  to  add  about  1000  more.  All 
numbers,  I  should  here  remark,  are  based  on  the 
roughest  estimates,  as,  by  the  Sirdar's  wish,  they  were 
never  stated  publicly.  In  any  case,  there  was  not  much 
doubt  that  the  force  was  sufficient  to  account  hand- 


62  ARMS   AND  MEN. 

somely  for  anything  that  was  likely  to  come  against 
it.  Whether  the  dervishes  were  even  coming  at 
all  was  not  at  this  time  very  certain.  It  was  known 
that  Mahmud  had  taken  over  his  force  from 
Metemmeh,  which  had  hitherto  been  his  head- 
quarters, to  join  Osman  Digna  at  Shendi  on  the 
eastern  bank.  That  was  evidence  that  the  attack, 
if  it  was  coming,  would  fall  on  us  rather  than  the 
Merawi  side.  Osman's  men,  it  was  further  reported, 
had  begun  to  drift  northward  in  detachments ;  though 
whether  this  meant  business  or  not  it  was  hard  to 
say.  It  seemed  difficult  to  believe  that  they  had  let 
Berber  alone  last  autumn  and  winter  when  it  was 
weakly  garrisoned,  only  to  attack  now,  when  attack 
must  mean  annihilation.  But  you  must  remember 
the  peculiarities  of  Arab  information.  The  ordinary 
Arab  spy  is  as  incurious  about  figures  as  the  Sirdar 
himself  could  desire ;  "  few  "  and  "  very  few,"  "  many  " 
and  "  very  many,"  are  his  nearest  guesses  at  a  total. 
It  was  not  at  all  certain  that  Mahmud  and  Osman, 
though  they  probably  knew  that  reinforcements  had 
come  up,  had  the  vaguest  idea  of  the  real  strength  of 
the  force. 

Finally,  said  those  who  remembered,  this  was  just 
like  Toski  over  again.  Whispers  and  whispers  for 
months  that  the  horde  was  coming ;  disappoiutment 
and  disappointment ;  and  then,  just  when  doubt  was 
becoming  security  and  the  attempt  madness,  a  head- 


OSMAN  DIGNA.  63 

long  rush  upon  inevitable  destruction.  Such  follies 
issue  from  the  very  nature  of  the  Mahdist  polity 
— a  jealous  ill-informed  despot  safe  at  Omdurman 
and  ill-supplied  Emirs  apprehensive  at  the  front 
Therefore  we  hoped  for  the  best.  What  their  force 
might  be,  of  course  we  knew  hardly  better  than 
they  knew  ours.  It  might  be  10,000,  or  15,000,  or 
20,000. 

If  they  came  they  would  fight:  that  was  certain. 
How  they  would  fight  we  knew  not.  It  depended 
on  Mahmud.  Osman  Digna  has  become  a  common- 
place of  Sudanese  warfare — a  man  who  has  never 
shown  himself  eminent  either  for  personal  courage 
or  for  generalship,  yet  obviously  a  man  of  great 
ability,  since  by  evasive  cunning  and  dogged  per- 
sistence he  has  given  us  more  trouble  than  all  the 
other  Emirs  together.  His  own  tribe,  the  Hadendowa, 
the  most  furious  warriors  of  Africa,  are  long  since 
reconciled  with  the  Government,  and  have  resumed 
their  old  trade  of  caravan -leading.  That  Osman 
struggles  on  might  fancifully  be  traced  to  his  strain 
of  Turkish  blood,  contributing  a  steadfastness  of 
purpose  seldom  found  in  the  out-and-out  bar- 
barian. He  has  become  a  fat  old  toad  now,  they 
say,  and  always  leaves  fights  at  an  early  stage  for 
private  prayer;  yet  he  is  still  as  much  alive  as 
when  he  threw  up  a  position  on  the  Suakim 
County   Council   to  join  the  Expected  Mahdi,  and 


64  ARMS  AND   MEN. 

you  cannot  but  half  admire  the  rascal's  persistence 
in  his  evil  ways. 

Had  Osman  been  in  command,  he  doubtless  knew 
too  much  to  risk  a  general  engagement.  But  it 
seemed  that  the  direction  of  things  lay  mainly  with 
Mahmud.  And  of  Mahmud,  but  for  the  facts  that  he 
was  a  social  favourite  in  Omdurman,  was  comparatively 
young,  and  had  wiped  out  the  Jaalin  for  the  Khalifa, 
nobody  —  except  probably  Colonel  Wingate  —  knew 
anything  at  all. 

Whatever  there  was  to  know,  Colonel  Wingate 
surely  knew  it,  for  he  makes  it  his  business  to  know 
everything.  He  is  the  type  of  the  learned  soldier,  in 
which  perhaps  our  army  is  not  so  strong  as  it  is  on 
other  sides.  If  he  had  not  chosen  to  be  Chief  of 
the  Intelligence  Department  of  the  Egyptian  Army, 
he  might  have  been  Professor  of  Oriental  Languages 
at  Oxford.  He  will  learn  you  any  language  you  like 
to  name  in  three  months.  As  for  that  mysterious 
child  of  lies,  the  Arab,  Colonel  Wingate  can  converse 
with  him  for  hours,  and  at  the  end  know  not  only  how 
much  truth  he  has  told,  but  exactly  what  truth  he  has 
suppressed.  He  is  the  intellectual,  as  the  Sirdar  is 
the  practical,  compendium  of  British  dealings  with  the 
Sudan.  With  that  he  is  himself  the  most  practical 
of  men,  and  few  realise  how  largely  it  is  due  to  the 
system  of  native  intelligence  he  has  organised,  that 
operations  in  the  Sudan  are  now  certain  and  unsur- 
prised instead  of  vague,  as  they  once  were.     Nothing 


COLOKEL   WINGATE.  65 

is  hid  from  Colonel  WIngate,  whether  in  Cairo  or  at 
the  Court  of  Menelik,  or  on  the  shores  of  Lake  Chad. 
As  a  press  censor  he  has  only  one  fault.  He  is  so  in- 
dispensable to  the  Sirdar  that  you  can  seldom  get 
speech  of  him.  His  rise  in  the  army  has  been  almost 
startlingly  rapid  ;  yet  there  is  not  a  man  in  it  but,  so 
far  from  envying,  rejoices  in  a  success  earned  by  rare 
gifts  and  unstinted  labour,  and  borne  with  an  inviol- 
able modesty. 


66 


VIII. 

IN   THE   BRITISH    CAMP. 

Beyond  doubt  it  was  a  great  march.  If  only  there 
had  been  a  fight  immediately  at  the  farther  end  of 
it,  it  would  have  gone  down  as  one  of  the  great 
forced-marches  of  history. 

News  came  to  Abu  Dis  of  Mahmud  and  Osman 
Digna's  advance  on  a  Friday  afternoon,  February 
25 ;  the  men  were  just  back  from  a  sixteen  -  mile, 
seven-and-a-half-hour  route-march  in  the  desert.  By 
eight  next  morning  the  last  detachment  had  been  con- 
veyed by  train  to  rail-head,  which  had  been  moved 
on  past  their  camp  to  Surek ;  by  ten  at  night  the 
brigade  was  on  the  march.  They  marched  all  night ; 
in  the  early  morning  came  a  telegram  bidding  them 
hasten,  and  they  marched  on  under  the  Sudan  sun 
into  the  afternoon.  A  short  halt,  and  at  three  on 
Monday  morning  they  were  off  again.  At  ten  that 
night  they  got  into  Geneineteh,  and  were  out  again 
by  three  next  morning.  Six  hours'  march,  seven 
hours'  halt,  eight  hours'  march  again,  and  they  were 


A   GREAT   MAECH.  67 

close  to  Berber.  And  there  they  learned  that  the 
Dervishes  had  after  all  not  arrived.  A  halt  of  twenty- 
four  hours  outside  Berber  rather  damaged  the  record ; 
but  that  was  better  than  damaging  the  troops.  Not 
but  that  they  were  quite  ready  to  go  on ;  it  was  by 
the  Sirdar  that  the  halt  was  ordered.  They  reached 
Berber — cheering  blacks  lining  two  miles  of  road,  and 
massed  bands  playing  the  Cameron  men,  and  the 
Lincolnshire  poacher,  and  Warwickshire  lads,  and 
especially  a  good  breakfast  for  everybody  —  and 
marched  through  to  their  camp  ten  miles  beyond. 

They  started  out  on  Saturday  night,  February  26 ; 
they  reached  camp  on  Thursday  evening,  March  3. 
Altogether  they  made  118  miles  within  five  days — 
four,  if  you  leave  out  the  day's  halt — or  134  in  five 
and  a  half,  if  you  also  add  the  route-march;  con- 
tinuously they  did  98  miles  within  three  days. 

That  is  marching.  Furthermore,  it  was  marching 
under  nearly  all  conditions  that  make  marching  a 
weariness.  In  India  troops  on  the  march  have  a 
host  of  camp-followers  to  do  the  hard  and  disagree- 
able work.  Of  course,  you  and  I  could  easily  walk 
twenty-five  miles  a  day  for  as  long  as  anybody  liked 
to  name.  But  how  would  you  like  to  try  it  with  kit 
and  rifle  and  a  hundred  rounds  of  ammunition  ?  Also, 
when  you  did  halt,  how  would  you  like  to  have  to 
set  to  work  getting  wood  to  make  your  fire  and  water 
to  cook  your  dinner  ?  How  would  you  like  to  march 
with  baggage-camels,  bo  slow  that  they  poach  all  your 


68  IN   THE  BRITISH   CAMP. 

sleep  ?  Especially,  how  would  you  like  to  be  a  cook 
— to  come  iu  tired  and  sweating,  hungry  and  thirsty, 
and  then  stand  out  in  the  sun  preparing  dinner  for 
your  comrades  ?  On  the  first  three  days'  march  some 
of  the  cooks  got  no  more  than  four  hours'  sleep,  and 
had  to  be  relieved  lest  they  dropped  at  their  posts ; 
few  of  the  officers  got  more.  Plenty  of  men  went  to 
sleep  while  marching;  others  dropped  with  weariness 
and  vigil,  like  a  boxer  knocked  stupid  in  a  fight.  One 
subaltern,  being  with  baggage  in  the  rear-guard,  fell 
off  his  camel  without  noticing  it,  and  went  on  peace- 
fully slumbering  in  the  sand.  He  woke  up  some  time 
in  the  dead  of  night,  and  of  course  had  not  the  vaguest 
idea  where  the  army  had  gone  to  or  in  which  direc- 
tion he  ought  to  follow  it.  He  had  hung  his  helmet 
and  belts  on  the  camel,  which  of  course  had  gone  on 
composedly,  only  glad  to  get  rid  of  him.  He  was 
picked  up  by  a  man  who  was  looking  for  somebody 
else. 

A  gunner  in  the  Maxim  battery  had  a  worse  time. 
He  too  dropped  asleep,  and  woke  up  to  find  himself 
alone.  He  found  himself  near  the  river,  and  went 
on  to  overtake  the  force.  Only  unluckily — so  mag- 
nificently unreasoning  can  the  British  soldier  some- 
times be  —  he  followed  down  the  stream  instead  of 
up.  On  top  of  that,  he  conceived  an  idea  that  he 
was  in  the  enemy's  country,  with  prowling  dervishes 
ambushed  behind  every  mimosa  bush.  So  that  while 
search  parties  quested  for  him   by  day,  he  carefully 


THE  BOOT  SCANDAL.  69 

hid  himself,  and  at  night  pushed  on  again  to- 
wards Cairo.  It  was  several  days  before  he  was 
picked  up. 

All  these  are  inevitable  accompaniments  of  a  forced 
march ;  what  might  have  been  avoided,  and  should 
have  been,  was  the  scandal  that  the  men's  boots  gave 
out.  True,  the  brigade  had  done  a  lot  of  marching 
since  it  came  up-country,  some  of  it — not  much — 
over  rock  and  loose  sand.  True,  also,  that  the  Sudan 
climate,  destructive  of  all  things,  is  particularly  de- 
structive of  all  things  stitched.  But  the  brigade  had 
only  been  up-river  about  a  month,  after  all,  and  no 
military  boot  ought  to  wear  out  in  a  month.  "We 
have  been  campaigning  in  the  Sudan,  off  and  on,  for 
over  fourteen  years ;  we  might  have  discovered  the 
little  peculiarities  of  its  climate  by  now.  The  Egyptian 
army  uses  a  riveted  boot ;  the  boots  our  British  boys 
were  expected  to  march  in  had  not  even  a  toe-cap. 
So  that  when  the  three  battalions  and  a  battery 
arrived  in  Berber  hundreds  of  men  were  all  but  bare- 
foot: the  soles  peeled  off,  and  instead  of  a  solid  double 
sole,  revealed  a  layer  of  shoddy  packing  sandwiched 
between  two  thin  slices  of  leather.  Not  one  man  fell 
out  sick ;  those  who  dropped  asleep  went  on  as  soon 
as  they  came  to,  and  overtook  their  regiments.  But 
every  available  camel  was  burdened  with  a  man  who 
lacked  nothing  of  strength  or  courage  to  march  on — 
only  boots.  General  Gatacre  had  half-a-dozen  chargers; 
every  one  was  carrying  a  bare- footed  soldier,  while 


70  IN   THE   BRITISH   CAMP. 

the  general  trudged  with  his  men.     All  the  mounted 
officers  did  the  same. 

It  is  always  the  same  story — knavery  and  slackness 
clogging  and  strangling  the  best  efforts  of  the  British 
soldier.  To  save  some  contractor  a  few  pence  on  a 
boot,  or  to  save  some  War  Office  clerk  a  few  hours  of 
the  work  he  is  paid  for  not  doing,  you  stand  to  lose  a 
good  rifle  and  bayonet  in  a  decisive  battle,  and  to 
break  a  good  man's  heart  into  the  bargain.  Is  it 
worth  it  ?  But  it  is  always  happening ;  the  history 
of  the  Army  is  a  string  of  such  disgraces.  And  each 
time  we  arise  and  bawl,  "  Somebody  ought  to  be 
hanged."  So  says  everybody.  But  nobody  ever  is 
hanged.1 

1  A  certain  stir  followed  the  publication  of  these  criticisms  in 
England,  penetrating  as  far  as  the  House  of  Commons,  and  even  the 
War  Office.  The  official  reply  to  them  was  in  effect  that  the  boots 
were  very  good  boots,  only  that  the  work  done  by  the  brigade  over 
bad  ground  had  tried  them  too  severely.  It  is  a  strange  sort  of  answer 
to  say  that  a  military  boot  is  a  very  good  boot,  only  you  mustn't 
march  in  it.  Having  walked  myself  over  most  of  the  same  ground 
as  General  Gatacre's  brigade,  I  am  able  to  say  that,  while  there  is  a 
good  deal  of  rock  and  loose  sand,  the  greater  part  of  the  going  is 
hard  sand  or  gravel.  The  boots  I  wore  myself  I  have  on  at  the 
moment  of  writing,  as  sound  as  ever. 

It  is  possible  that  the  War  Office  is  right,  and  that  for  other 
purposes  in  other  countries  the  boots  supplied  were  very  good  boots. 
But  in  the  Sudan,  what  with  the  drought  and  the  fine  cutting  sand, 
everything  in  stitched  leather  goes  to  pieces  with  heart-breaking 
rapidity.  It  is  to  be  presumed  that  our  authorities  could  have 
discovered  this  fact :  in  the  Egyptian  army  it  is  known  perfectly 
well. 

After  Mr  Powell  Williams  had  more  than  once  implied  in  the 
House  that  there  was  no  foundation  for  the  criticisms  in  the  text, 


A   SEVERE   REGIME.  71 

That  these  men  came  so  sturdily  through  the  test 
stands  to  everybody's  credit,  but  especially  their 
brigadier's.  From  the  day  he  took  up  his  command 
General  Gatacre  set  to  work  to  make  his  men  hard. 
Amazing  stories  floated  down  to  Haifa,  rebuking  us 
with  the  stern  simplicity  of  life  at  rail-head — no  drink, 
perpetual  marching,  sleep  every  night  in  your  boots. 
The  general,  we  heard,  had  even  avowed  that  he  meant 
to  teach  his  men  to  march  twenty  miles  without  water- 
bottles.  He  would  merely  halt  them  from  time  to 
time  and  water  them — most  wisely,  since  the  soldier 
either  swigs  down  all  his  water  in  the  first  hour,  and 
is  cooked  for  the  rest  of  the  day,  or  else,  if  he  thinks 
he  is  in  for  a  short  march,  pours  the  confounded  thing 
out  on  the  sand  to  lighten  it.  A  most  wise  thing — 
if  you  can  do  it.  For  some  of  the  old  inhabitants 
of  the  Sudan  shook  their  heads  when  they  heard  such 
tales.  "  He'll  get  'em  stale,"  said  they  ;  "  wait  till  the 
hot  weather;  in  this  country  you  must  make  yourself 
comfortable."  They  were  probably  right — they  knew; 
and  for  myself,  I  intended  to  give  comfort  the  fullest 
possible   trial.     But    so  far    the  fact  stood  that  the 

Lord  Lansdowne,  in  his  speech  announcing  the  proposed  transmogri- 
fication of  the  Army  Medical  Services,  gave  away  the  War  Office's 
case  in  the  following  terms  :  "  The  Egyptian  campaign  had  brought 
to  light  one  weak  point  which  we  could  not  afford  to  ignore.  The 
Army  boot,  although  a  good  boot,  was  apparently  unsuited  to  resist 
the  peculiar  and  insidious  action  of  the  desert  sand.  .  .  .  He 
trusted  they  would  be  able  to  invent  a  boot  which  even  General 
Gatacre  and  the  desert  sand  would  not  be  able  to  wear  out." 
— ('  Daily  Mail '  Report,  May  5.) 


72  IN  THE  BRITISH   CAMP. 

British  had  done  their  work  brilliantly,  and  that  their 
brigadier  trained  them  to  it. 

When  my  camel  padded  into  their  camp  by  moon- 
light the  day's  work  was  done,  and  they  were  going  to 
sleep.  You  came  to  the  camp  through  a  tangle  of 
thick  mimosa;  a  zariba  of  the  same  impossible  thorns 
was  heaped  up  all  round  it ;  the  men  were  quartered 
along  the  river  overlooking  the  foreshore.  There  was 
only  time  to  be  grateful  for  supper,  and  a  blanket  spread 
under  the  lee  of  a  straw-plaited  hut.  Next  thing  I 
knew  reveille  was  sounding,  at  a  quarter  past  five. 
Directly  on  the  sound  stepped  out  the  general — middle 
height,  build  for  lightness  and  toughness  together, 
elastic  energy  in  the  set  of  each  limb,  and  in  the  keen, 
grave  face  a  determined  purpose  to  be  equal  to  re- 
sponsibility. He  stayed  to  drink  a  cup  of  cocoa,  and 
then  mounted,  and  was  away  with  his  aide-de-camp ; 
General  Gatacre's  aide-de-camp  requires  to  be  a  hard 
man.  When  breakfast-time  came  the  general  was  no- 
where in  camp,  nor  was  he  an  hour  later,  nor  an  hour 
later  still.  He  had  just  taken  a  little  twenty-five 
mile  scamper  to  look  out  a  new  site  for  his  camp. 

At  reveille  the  camp  had  suddenly  turned  from  dead 
to  alive.  You  heard  hoarse  orders,  and  the  ring  of 
perpetual  bugles.  The  dry  air  of  the  Sudan  cracks 
the  buglers'  lips,  as  it  does  everybody  else's ;  to  keep 
them  supple  they  were  practising  incessantly,  so  that 
the  brigade  is  wrapped  in  bugling  best  part  of  the 
day.    To-day  it  was  also  wrapped  in  something  else. 


AN  ILL-CHOSEN  SITE.  73 

It  seemed  to  me  that  daylight  was  very  long  in  com- 
ing— that  lines  of  khaki  figures  seemed  to  pass  to  and 
fro  in  an  unlifting  mist.  But  that  was  only  for  the 
first  few  sleepy  moments.  As  the  north  wind  got  up 
with  the  sun  it  soon  became  very  plain  what  was  the 
matter. 

Dust !  The  camp  was  on  land  which  had  once  been 
cultivated,  black  cotton  land ;  and  black  cotton  land 
when  the  wind  blows  is  neither  wholesome  nor  agree- 
able. It  rose  off  the  ground  till  the  place  was  like 
London  in  a  fog.  On  the  horizon  it  lowered  like 
thunder-clouds;  close  about  you  it  whirled  up  like 
pepper  when  the  lid  of  the  castor  comes  off.  You 
felt  it,  breathed  it,  smelt  it,  tasted  it.  It  chok«d 
eyes  and  nose  and  ears,  and  you  ground  it  between 
your  teeth.  After  a  few  hours  of  it  you  forgot  what 
being  a  man  was  like ;  you  were  merely  clogging  into 
a  lump  of  Sudan. 

It  was  a  bad  mistake  to  pitch  on  such  a  spot ;  and 
when  you  came  to  walk  round  the  camp  you  saw  how 
ill-equipped  were  the  men  to  put  up  with  it.  Their 
heavy  baggage — officers'  and  men's  alike — had  been 
left  at  rail-head;  over  2500  men  had  come  with  700 
camels.  The  tents  had  arrived,  but  they  were  only 
just  being  unloaded  from  the  steamer.  The  men  were 
huddled  under  blankets  stretched  on  four  sticks ;  of 
the  officers,  some  had  tents,  others  sat  in  tiny  elbow- 
squeezing  tukls  (huts  of  straw  or  rushes),  such  as  the 
prophet  Jonah  would  not   have  exchanged   for   his 


74  IN  THE   BRITISH   CAMP. 

gourd.  There  was  hardly  a  shelter  in  the  camp  in 
which  a  man  could  stand  upright.  One  or  two  good 
tukls  had  been  built — wooden  posts  with  beams  lashed 
across  them,  and  mats  or  coarse  stems  of  halfa  grass 
plaited  between.  But,  taking  the  place  as  a  whole, 
it  was  impossible  to  be  comfortable,  and  especially 
impossible  to  be  clean. 

It  was  nobody's  fault  in  particular,  and  in  this  good 
weather  it  did  not  particularly  matter.  It  happened 
not  to  have  begun  stoking  up  at  the  time ;  when  it  likes 
it  can  be  mid-summer  in  March.  When  it  did  begin, 
and  especially  if  it  came  to  a  matter  of  summer 
quarters,  such  a  camp  as  Debeika  was  an  invitation 
to  disease  and  death.  You  have  to  learn  the  Sudan's 
ways,  they  say,  if  you  do  not  want  the  Sudan  to  eat 
you  alive.  The  British  brigade  had  to  learn.  Sure 
enough  the  Sirdar  came  to  inspect  it  the  day  after, 
and  on  March  11  the  brigade  shifted  camp  to  the 
empty  and  relatively  clean  village  of  Darrnali,  two 
miles  higher  up  the  river. 


IX. 


FORT    ATBARA. 

It  needed  only  half  a  look  at  the  Egyptian  camp  to 
convince  you  how  much  the  British  had  to  learn.  The 
hospitable  dinner-table  was  quite  enough.  In  accord- 
ance with  a  detestable  habit  which  I  intend  to  correct 
in  future,  I  arrived  late  for  dinner  :  it  was  the  fault  of 
the  camels,  the  camel-men,  the  servants,  the  guide,  my 
companions,  the  country,  and  the  weather.  None  the 
less  kindly  was  I  set  down  at  table  and  ate  of  soup 
and  fish,  of  ragout  and  fresh  mutton  and  game,  and 
was  invited  to  drink  hock,  claret,  champagne,  whisky, 
gin,  lime-juice,  ginger-beer,  Kosbach,  and  cognac,  or 
any  combination  or  permutation  of  the  same.  I  was 
the  guest  of  men  who  have  been  on  the  Sudan 
frontier  for  anything  up  to  fifteen  years,  during  which 
time  they  have  learned  the  Sudan's  ways  and  over- 
come its  inhospitality. 

As  soon  as  everybody  began  to  show  signs  of  falling 
asleep  at  table — which  hot  days  begun  at  four  or  five 
in  the  morning  and  worked  hard  through  till  half-past 


76  FORT   ATBARA. 

seven  soon  lead  you  to  consider  the  most  natural 
phenomenon  in  the  world — I  went  to  bed  under  a 
roof.  The  owner  of  the  tukl  was  up  the  river,  ofi 
Shendi,  on  a  gunboat.  His  house  was  palatially  built 
with  painted  beams  from  the  spoils  of  a  raid  on 
Metenimeh,  and  plaited  with  palm -leaf  and  halfa 
grass.  Other  officers  preferred  their  tents ;  but  the 
insides  of  these  were  sunk  anything  from  one  foot  to 
four  underground,  the  excavation  neatly  backed  with 
dried  Nile  mud,  so  that  a  ten-foot  tent  became  a  lofty 
and  airy  apartment.  The  last  thing  I  saw  was  a  vast 
upstanding  oblong  tukl,  which  looked  capable  of  hold- 
ing a  company.  I  was  told  it  was  the  house  of  the 
mess-servants  of  one  Egyptian  battalion.  It  was  more 
palatial  than  all  the  edifices  in  the  British  camp  put 
together. 

In  the  morning  it  was  blowing  a  sand-storm,  and 
Englishmen's  eyes  showed  bloodshot  through  blue 
spectacles.  It  was  gritty  between  the  teeth,  and  to 
walk  up  wind  spelt  blindness ;  yet  it  was  clean  sand, 
and  did  not  form  soil  in  the  mouth  like  the  black 
dust  of  Debeika.  In  the  early  morning  Fort  Atbara 
appeared  through  the  driving  cloud  as  through  smoked 
glass  —  a  long  walled  camp,  with  its  southern  apex 
resting  on  the  junction  of  Nile  and  Atbara.  To  find 
so  strong  a  place  in  the  lately  won  wilderness  was 
a  revelation,  not  of  English  energy,  which  is  under- 
stood, but  of  Egyptian  industry.  The  wall  was  over 
six  feet  high,  firmly  built  of  sun-dried  mud  ;  round  it 


A  MONUMENT   OF   EGYPTIAN   INDUSTRY.  77 

had  been  a  six-foot  ditch,  only  the  importunate  sand 
had  already  half  silted  it  up  again.  On  the  inside 
was  a  parapet,  gun  platforms  with  a  couple  of  care- 
fully clothed  Maxims  in  each,  a  couple  of  guard-houses 
at  the  two  main  gates  and  a  couple  of  blockhouses 
outside.  Across  the  Atbara  was  a  small  fort ;  at  the 
angle  of  the  rivers  a  covered  casemate  gallery  that 
would  accommodate  half  a  company  precluded  any 
attempt  to  turn  the  wall  and  attack  from  the  fore- 
shore. On  the  other  side  of  the  Nile  was  a  smaller 
fort,  walled  and  ditched  likewise.  In  the  inside 
straddled  a  crow's  nest — built  also  with  painted  beams 
from  Mahmud's  house  in  Metemmeh — with  a  view  that 
reached  miles  up  both  rivers.  A  couple  of  miles  up 
the  Atbara  you  could  see  dense  mimosa  thickets ;  so 
much  of  the  bank  as  could  get  water  has  dropped 
back  almost  to  virgin  forest  in  the  fourteen  years  of 
dervish  devilry.  But  under  the  walls  of  Fort  Atbara 
was  neither  mimosa  nor  Sodom  apple  nor  any  kind 
of  scrub.  Only  a  forest  of  stumps  showed  where  the 
field  of  fire  had  been  cleared — over  a  mile  in  every 
direction.  Upright  and  regular  among  the  stumps 
you  could  see  a  row  of  stakes ;  each  marked  a  range 
of  100  yards  up  to  500 :  the  Egyptian  soldier  was 
to  hold  his  fire  up  to  that  and  gain  confidence  by 
seeing  his  enemy  go  down.  Best  of  all,  the  fort,  though 
it  dominated  the  country  for  miles,  was  itself  hardly 
visible.  From  the  ridge  of  the  desert  a  mile  away  it 
was  a  few  trees,  the  yardarms  of  a  few  sailing  barges, 


78  FORT  ATBARA. 

and  a  shelter  trench.  The  whole  dervish  army  might 
easily  have  been  persuaded  to  run  their  heads  on  it ; 
but  they  might  have  butted  in  vain  against  Fort 
Atbara  till  there  was  not  one  of  them  left  standing. 

Tiie  whole  of  this  work  had  been  made  by  the  men 
who  garrisoned  it.  There  were  none  but  Fellahin 
regiments  in  Fort  Atbara;  but  the  Egyptian  soldier 
on  fatigue  duty  is  the  finest  soldier  in  the  world. 
In  a  population  of  ten  millions  the  conscription 
only  asks  for  20,000  men  or  so,  and  it  can  afford  to 
pick  and  choose.  In  face  the  fellah  soldier  is  a  shade 
sullen,  not  to  say  blackguardly;  in  body  he  would  be 
a  joy  to  a  sculptor.  Shorter  than  the  taller  tribes  of 
blacks,  taller  than  the  shorter,  he  is  far  better  built 
all  round.  When  he  strips  at  bathing-time — for  like 
all  riverine  peoples  he  is  more  clean  than  bashful — the 
bank  is  lined  with  studies  for  Hercules.  And  all  the 
thews  he  has  he  puts  into  his  work.  Work  is  the 
fellah's  idea  of  life,  especially  work  with  his  native 
mud :  the  fatigue  which  other  soldiers  incline  to 
resent  as  not  part  of  their  proper  business  he  takes  to 
most  kindly  of  all  his  soldiering.  Marching,  digging, 
damming,  brick- making,  building,  tree-felling — you  can 
never  find  him  unwilling  nor  leave  him  exhausted.  He 
is  the  ideal  soldier-of-all-work,  true  son  of  a  country 
\vh<re  human  hand -labour  has  always  beaten  the 
machine. 

The  troops  were  housed  either  in  post -and -straw 
tukls   or  in   tents ;    but  already  a   vast   mud  -  brick 


SKETCH  MAP  OF  THE  NILE    AND  ATBAEA 

TO     ILLUSTRATE     THE     OPERATIONS       AGAINST      MAHMOUD 


jjGeneineteh,.ffi?a/?  nf fifth  Cataract) 
pEl  Abadia 

sBEKBER 


[iMbeika  iRrrl  Brauh  Canp-TerT;.  March  12) 
KDauiarli  (Second  British  Camp  -  left,  March  16) 

°Kenur  tTomt<  or' Gmeentrtawn,  •  March- IB) 
lefijfarch  20 

^Fort  Atbara.  vDakhila) 

E\Bu(b(  Camp  March,  20) 

K.i.s  el  Ihuli  ,o/»/,  36mA.  21) 
d Darner  *VS  Open     Sandy    Titan. 

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(-,  WzLShar  Abadar 

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iTarata  l4 


.? yhm&diieklCamp April  i, 


Gumral. 


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t-ElABab 
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f  Shebaleyar?-  (Shrnush  March,  13) 


MenawP?*iKNakheila/J&A»u'i4<Z6  Entrenchment 
^^recoraicitred  March  30 an3 April  / 
;       stormaLAprd,  8) 


YA  KM 


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'  Shendi  (VcstrtyeiL  2farc%  27) 


rMetanm<*b. 

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dbtrut  35 Miles. 


S    L  A  N   D 
0  F 

MEROE 


Scale    i.j.58*  ooo 


Snghsh  2KUt 


QUEEN   CITY  OF   THE   SUDAN.  79 

barrack  stretched  its  skeleton  across  the  camp. 
Along  the  foreshore  the  mud  huts  were  hospital  or 
officers'  quarters  or  mess -houses.  Already  one  big 
straw  tukl  was  a  cafe",  where  enterprising  Greeks  had 
set  up  a  soda-water  machine  and  instituted  a  diner  du 
jour.  And  down  on  the  beach  the  cluster  of  slim- 
sparred  gyassas  and  the  little  street  of  box-and-mat 
built  Greek  shops  marked  the  beginning  of  a  town. 
As  railway  terminus,  for  this  year  at  present,  an 
American  might  almost  call  it  the  queen  city  of  the 
Sudan.  Only  for  the  present  it  must  be  a  city  with- 
out native  population  ;  for  the  inhabitants  of  this  reach 
are  very  few,  and  subsist  on  precarious  subsidies  paid 
them  for  protecting  each  other  against  the  raids  of 
the  dervish. 

Among  the  craft  at  the  riverside  the  first  you 
noticed  was  the  gunboat.  White,  with  tall  black 
funnel  amidships,  deck  above  deck  and  platform  top- 
ping platform,  it  looked  more  like  a  building  than  a 
warship.  But  for  all  their  many  storeys  these  gun- 
boats draw  only  some  two  feet  of  water,  while  the 
loftiness  of  the  gun-platforms  enables  them  to  search 
the  highest  bank  at  the  lowest  state  of  Nile.  Ahead 
on  the  uppermost  deck  points  the  hungry  muzzle  of 
a  gun ;  there  are  a  couple  more  amidships,  and  a 
couple  of  Maxims  on  a  dizzy  shaking  platform  higher 
yet. 

The  war  fleet  at  this  time  counted  three  stern- 
wheelers — the  Zafir  (Commander  Keppel,  E.N.),  Fatha 


80  FORT   ATBARA. 

(Lieutenant  Beatty,  R.N.),  and  Nasa  (Lieutenant  Hood, 
E.N.)  Three  more — the  Malik  (King),  Sultan,  and 
Sheikh — were  down  the  river,  waiting  for  their  sec- 
tions to  be  put  together  against  high  Nile.  Fort 
Atbara  was  the  Portsmouth  of  the  Sudan :  one  of 
Captain  Keppel's  squadron  always  lay  there,  taking 
a  week  in  its  turn  to  rest  and  repair  anything 
needful.  The  other  two  would  be  always  up  the 
river — one  cruising  off  Shendi,  and  the  other  patrol- 
ling the  seventy  miles  of  river  between.  If  neces- 
sary the  boats  could  run  past  Shendi,  forty  miles 
more,  to  Shabluka,  so  that  they  acted  as  reconnoitring 
parties  more  than  a  hundred  miles  from  the  most 
advanced  military  post. 

Naval  operations  have  played  a  part  in  Sudan 
warfare  ever  since  Gordon's  time :  was  not  "  the 
Admiral "  himself  on  Beresford's  Zafia  through  those 
famous  -  infamous  days  which  saw  the  tantalising 
tragedy  of  Khartum?  Here,  as  elsewhere,  the 
Sirdar  has  gathered  up  the  experience  of  the  past 
and  brought  it  to  full  development.  Everybody  told 
him  that  he  would  never  get  the  gunboats  over  the 
Fourth  Cataract :  a  general  who  had  been  there  in 
the  Wolseley  days  delivered  a  lecture  demonstrating 
unmercifully  the  mad  impossibility  of  the  scheme.  A 
day  or  two  after  the  Sirdar  sent  the  boats  over.  To 
be  sure  one  turned  turtle  in  the  attempt,  and  a  naval 
lieutenant  was  fished  out  three-quarters  drowned,  and 


WHAT   THE   GUNBOATS   DID.  81 

two  Egyptians  had  to  be  cut  out  through  the  bottom 
of  the  boat.  Yet  here  were  three  vessels  steaming  up 
and  down  unperturbed,  right  under  Mahmud's  nose. 
The  value  of  their  services  it  would  be  quite  impos- 
sible to  exaggerate :  they  were  worth  all  the  rest  of  the 
Intelligence  Department  put  together.  From  their 
reports  it  was  known  that  the  dervishes  had  crossed  to 
Shendi  and  were  coming  down  the  river.  Moreover, 
you  may  imagine  that  officers  of  her  Majesty's  navy  did 
not  confine  their  activity  to  looking  on.  A  day  or  two 
before  this  Mahmud  had  been  transferring  his  war 
material  in  barges  from  Metemmeh  to  Sliendi. 
Knowing  the  ways  of  "  the  devils,"  as  they  amiably 
call  the  gunboats,  he  had  entrenched  a  couple  of  hun- 
dred riflemen  to  cover  the  crossing.  But  one  boat 
steamed  cheerfully  up  to  the  bank  and  turned  on  the 
Maxims,  while  the  other  sunk  one  nuggar  and  captured 
two.  A  fourth  lay  in  quite  shallow  water  under  the 
very  muzzles  of  the  dervish  rifles.  But  on  each  boat 
are  carried  about  half  a  company  of  Egyptian  troops 
with  a  white  officer.  While  the  Maxims  poppled 
away  above  them,  the  detachment — it  was  of  the  15th 
Egyptians  on  this  occasion — landed  and  cut  out  the 
nuggar  before  its  owners'  eyes.  With  men  capable  of 
such  things  as  this  about  on  the  river,  it  was  only  by 
drilling  a  hole  in  the  bottom  of  their  boats  and  sink- 
ing them  during  the  day  that  the  dervishes  could 
keep  any  craft  to  cross  the  river  in  at  all. 


82  FORT  ATBARA. 

The  second  day  at  Fort  Atbara  I  stepped  out  after 
lunch,  and  there  were  two  white  sweltering  gunboats 
instead  of  one.  Everybody  who  had  nothing  else  to 
do  hurried  as  fast  as  the  heat  would  let  them  down  to 
the  river.  There  the  first  thing  they  saw  was  an 
angareb  being  laboriously  guided  ashore  by  four  native 
soldiers :  on  it  lay  a  white  man.  He  was  a  sergeant 
of  marines,  shot  in  the  leg  while  directing  the  fire  of 
the  forward  Maxim.  "  The  devils  have  hit  me,"  they 
said  he  cried  out,  with  justly  indignant  surprise  as  he 
felt  the  bullet,  then  jumped  to  the  gun  and  turned  it 
himself  on  the  quarter  the  shot  came  from.  That  was 
in  the  early  morning;  now  he  was  very  pale  and  a 
little  limp,  but  smiling.  Then  came  down  the  doctor 
hastily.  "  Didn't  I  say  he  wasn't  to  be  brought 
ashore?"  he  said.  "All  right,  sir,"  answered  the 
wounded  man,  still  resolutely  smiling  ;  "  I  expect  I'm 
in  for  hospital  anyhow."  And  away  to  hospital  they 
bore  him,  for  the  boat  would  be  up  river  again  by 
dawn  the  next  day. 

Meantime  the  detachment  of  soldiers  were  stepping 
ashore  with  cheerful  grins.  It  was  easy  to  see  how 
valuable  was  this  gunDoat  work  in  giving  the 
Egyptians  confidence.  True,  they  had  lost  one  man 
wounded  and  had  a  few  chips  knocked  off  the  stern- 
wheel  ;  but  had  they  not  landed  at  Aliab — thirty  miles 
from  Fort  Atbara — driven  off  the  dervishes,  and 
captured   donkeys   and   loot?      The   loot   was   being 


AN    EXCITING    SERVICE.  83 

unladen  at  the  moment — an  angareb  or  two  and  odd 
garments,  especially  many  bundles  of  rough  riverside 
hay.  "  Take  that  up  to  my  old  horse,"  said  the 
lieutenant  in  command,  satisfaction  in  his  tones.  "  Is 
there  any  polo  this  afternoon  ? " 

It  was  hard  to  say  whether  this  work  best  suited 
the  young  naval  officer  or  the  young  naval  officer  best 
suited  the  work.  Steaming  up  and  down  the  river  in 
command  of  a  ship  of  his  own,  bombarding  here, 
reconnoitring  there,  landing  elsewhere  for  a  brush 
with  the  dervishes,  and  then  again  a  little  way  farther 
to  pick  up  loot, — the  work  had  all  the  charm  of  war 
and  blockade-running  and  poaching  combined.  If  a 
dervish  shell  did  happen  to  smash  the  wheel  where 
would  the  boat  be,  perhaps  seventy  miles  from  any 
help?  It  was  said  the  Sirdar  was  a  little  nervous 
about  them,  and  to  my  inexperience  it  was  a  perpetual 
wonder  that  the  boats  came  back  from  every  trip. 
But  somehow,  thanks  to  just  a  dash  of  caution  in  their 
audacity,  they  always  did  come  back.  Impudently 
daring  in  attack,  with  a  happy  eye  to  catch  the  latest 
moment  for  retreat,  they  were  just  the  cutting -out 
heroes  of  one's  youth  come  to  life.  They  might  have 
walked  straight  out  of  the  '  Boy's  Own  Paper.' 

Every  returning  boat  brought  fresh  news  of  the 
advance.  Dervishes  at  Aliab,  even  if  not  in  force, 
could  not  but  mean  a  movement  towards  attack.  It 
was  quite  impossible  to  wear  out  the  hospitality  of 


84  FORT  ATBARA. 

Fort  Atbara,  but  duty  began  to  wonder  what  the  rest 
of  the  army  was  doing.  So  I  recaptured  my  camel — 
peacefully  grazing  in  the  nearest  area  of  dervish  raid, 
and  very  angry  at  being  called  on  to  work  after  three 
days  of  idleness— and  bumped  away  north  towards 
Berber. 


85 


THE    MARCH    OUT. 

Alas  for  the  Berber  season — for  the  sprightly  promise 
of  its  budding,  the  swift  tragedy  of  its  blight ! 

It  would  have  been  the  most  brilliant  social  year 
the  town  has  ever  known.  Berber  is  peculiarly  fitted 
for  fashionable  display :  its  central  street  would  hold 
four  Regent  Streets  abreast,  and  the  low  mud  walls, 
with  one-storeyed  mud-houses  just  peeping  over  them, 
make  it  look  wider  yet.  On  this  magnificent  avenue 
the  merchant  princes  of  Berber  display  their  rich 
emporia.  Mortimer,  Angelo,  Walker,  and  half-a-dozen 
ending  in  -poulo,  had  brought  caravans  over  the 
desert  from  Suakim,  until  you  could  buy  oysters  and 
asparagus,  table-napkins  and  brilliantine,  in  the 
middle  of  the  Sudan.  Then  there  are  the  cafes, — 
"Officers'  Club  and  Mineral  Waters"  is  the  usual 
title  of  a  Sudan  cafe, — where  you  could  drink  mastik 
and  kinds  of  whisky,  and  listen  to  limpid  streams  of 
modern  Greek  from  the  mouths  of  elegants  who  shave 
twice  and  even  three  times  a-week.     There  at  sun- 


86  THE  MATCCH  OUT. 

down  sat  the  native  officers  on  chairs  before  the  door, 
every  breast  bright  with  the  ribbons  of  hard  victorious 
campaigns,  talking  their  ancestral  Turkish  and  drink- 
ing drinks  not  contemplated  by  the  Koran.  There 
were  five  regiments  in  garrison,  and  more  outside ; 
the  town  was  alive  with  generals,  and  the  band  played 
nightly  to  the  Sirdar's  dinner. 

There  was  flavour  in  the  sensation  of  sitting  at 
dinner  under  the  half-daylight  of  the  tropic  moon, 
kicking  up  black -brown  sand,  looking  into  a  little 
yard  with  an  unfenced  sixty-foot  undrinkable  well  in 
one  corner  and  a  heat-seamed  mud  wall  all  round  it, 
and  listening  to  a  full  military  orchestra  wailing  for 
the  Swanee  Ribber,  or  giggling  over  the  sorrows  of 
Mr  Gus  Elen's  friend,  who  somehow  never  felt  'isself 
at  'ome.  For  myself,  I  was  just  beginning  to  be  very 
much  at  home  indeed.  It  was  a  splendid  house  to 
share  among  three,  one  of  the  most  palatial  in  Berber 
— two  rooms  as  high  as  an  English  double-storeyed 
villa,  doorway  you  could  drive  a  hansom  through,  two 
window-holes  in  one  room  and  one  in  the  other,  bricks 
of  the  finest  quality  of  Nile  mud,  and  roof  of  mats 
that  never  let  in  a  single  sunbeam.  A  fine  house ;  and 
we  had  further  embellished  it  with  two  tables — they 
cost  a  couple  of  pounds  apiece,  timber  and  carpenters 
being  scarce  in  Berber — five  shelves,  a  peg,  and  eight 
cane  -  bottomed  bedroom  chairs,  brought  across  the 
desert  in  sections.  In  a  fortnight  our  entertainments 
would  have  been  the  talk  of  Berber,  and  now 


BERBER — OLD   AND   NEW.  87 

To-night  the  High  Street  was  as  bare  and  bald, 
Berber  as  desolate  and  forlorn,  as  old  Berber  itself. 
Old  Berber,  you  must  know,  is  the  Berber  which  was 
before  the  Mahdists  came  and  took  it  and  besomed 
it  with  three  days'  massacre.  It  stands,  or  totters, 
some  half  mile  south  of  the  present  dervish-built  town. 
Palms  spread  their  sunshades  over  it,  and  it  is  em- 
bosomed in  the  purple-pink  flower,  white-green  bush, 
and  yellow-green  fruit  of  Sodom  apples.  At  a  dis- 
tance it  is  cool  luxury ;  ride  into  it,  and  it  is  only  the 
sun-dried  skeleton  of  a  city.  In  what  was  once  the 
bazaar  the  bones  are  thickest:  here  are  the  empty 
sockets  out  of  which  looked  the  little  shops — all  silent, 
crumbling,  and  broken.  Altogether  there  are  acres 
and  acres  of  Old  Berber — quite  dead  and  falling  away, 
not  a  single  soul  in  the  whole  desolation.  But  when 
the  Egyptian  army  first  came  last  year  there  were 
bodies — bodies  left  thirteen  years  unburied,  and  dry 
wounds  yawning  for  vengeance. 

New  Berber  to-day  was  hardly  less  forlorn.  On 
the  morning  of  March  15,  the  few  passengers  down 
the  High  Street  all  carried  arms.  Here  was  a  man 
on  a  fleet  camel :  he  would  have  sold  it  the  day  be- 
fore for  £20 ;  now  no  price  would  tempt  his  Arab 
covetousness  into  parting  with  his  possible  salvation. 
Here  strode  a  tall  man  with  white  gown  kilted  up 
above  black  legs:  he  carried  a  Remington  ride,  and 
with  his  free  hand  pushed  before  him  a  donkey  bear- 
ing a   bundle   and   a   bed.      An   augareb   is  the  first 


88  THE  MARCH   OUT. 

luxury  of  the  Sudan :  Egyptian  soldiers,  when  an- 
garebs  are  looted,  can  hardly  be  restrained  from 
taking  them  away  on  their  backs.  This  man  was 
removing  wardrobe  and  furniture  together  on  one 
donkey.  Down  at  the  riverside  every  boat  was  busy ; 
the  natives  were  crossing  over  to  the  islands  and  to 
the  western  bank.  Down  at  the  landing-stage,  three 
miles  north  of  the  town,  where  the  hospital  was  and 
the  post-office,  and  whither  the  telegraph  was  now 
removed,  the  1st  Battalion,  now  to  form  all  the  garri- 
son of  Berber,  was  building  a  fort. 

And  in  their  stores  and  cafes  in  the  High  Street, 
with  twitching  faces,  sat  the  Greeks.  They  explained 
in  half -voices  that  they  could  not  move  their  stock 
because  they  had  400  camel-loads,  and  there  were  not 
ten  camels  to  be  bought  in  all  Berber.  They  com- 
mented on  the  strange  strategy  that  aims  at  beating 
the  enemy  rather  than  at  protecting  property.  They 
even  made  a  deputation  to  the  Sirdar  on  the  point; 
but  his  Excellency  pursued  his  own  plan,  and  merely 
served  out  Kemingtons  to  the  traders.  Whereat  the 
Greeks  pointed  out  that  the  rifles  and  a  few  cases  of 
wine  and  tinned  meat  against  their  doors  would  make 
them  impregnable ;  and  then  fell  to  twitching  again. 

What  it  was  all  about,  nobody  among  the  outsiders 
knew.  But  we  presumed  that  the  gradual  crescendo 
of  intelligence  as  to  the  dervish  advance  had  resulted 
in  the  decision  that  it  was  better  to  be  in  position  too 
early  than  too  late.    The  Sirdar  left  early  on  the  15th; 


A   SPLENDID   BATTALION.  89 

the  greater  part  of  the  garrison — Macdonald's  fighting 
brigade  of  blacks — had  cleared  the  town  the  evening 
before  and  marched  for  Kenur,  the  point  of  concen- 
tration, when  the  moon  rose  at  one  in  the  morning. 
I  saw  the  start  of  the  9th,  the  first  black  battalion 
raised ;  and  fine  as  are  many  of  our  British  regiments, 
these  made  them  look  very  small.  The  Sudanese 
battalions,  as  has  been  said,  are  enlisted  for  life,  and 
every  black,  wherever  he  may  be  found,  is  liable,  as 
such,  for  service.  I  have  seen  a  man  who  was  with 
Maximilian  in  Mexico,  in  the  Russo  -  Turkish  War, 
across  Africa  with  Stanley,  and  in  all  the  later 
Egyptian  campaigns,  and  who  marches  with  his 
regiment  yet.  However  old  the  black  may  be,  he 
has  the  curious  faculty  of  always  looking  about  eigh- 
teen: only  when  you  thrust  your  eyes  right  in  his 
face  do  you  notice  that  he  is  a  wrinkled  great-grand- 
father of  eighty.  But  always  he  stands  as  straight  as 
a  lance. 

Not  that  the  9th  average  that  age,  I  take  it ;  or  if 
they  do,  it  does  not  matter.  Their  height  must 
average  easily  over  six  feet.  They  are  willowy  in 
figure,  and  their  legs  run  to  spindle-shanks,  almost 
ridiculously;  yet  as  they  formed  up  on  parade  they 
moved  not  only  with  the  scope  that  comes  from 
length  of  limb,  but  the  snap  of  self  -  controlled 
strength  as  well. 

They  love  their  soldiering,  do  the  blacks,  and  take  it 
very  seriously.    When  they  stood  at  attention  they 


90  TIIE   MARCH   OUT. 

might  have  been  rows  of  black  marble  statues,  all 
alike  as  in  the  ancient  temples,  filling  up  the  little 
square  of  crumbling  mud  walls  with  a  hole  in  its 
corner,  so  typical  of  the  Berber  landscape.     Then  the 
English  colonel  snapped  out  something  Turkish :  in  an 
instant  the  lines  of  each  company  had  become  fours ; 
all  turned  with  a    click  ;    the   band    crashed   out   a 
march — barbaric  Ethiopian,  darky  American,  or  Eng- 
lish music-hall,  it  is  all  the  same  to  the  blacks — and 
out  swung  the  regiment.     They  moved  off  by  com- 
panies through  a  narrow  alley,  and  there  lay  four  new- 
killed   goats,  the  sand   lapping   their   blood.     Every 
officer  rode,  every  man  stepped,  over  the  luck  token  ; 
they  would  never  go  out  to  fight  without  it.     Then 
out  into  the  main  street,  every  man  stepping  like  a 
conqueror,  the  band  blaring  war  at  their  head ;  with 
each  company  a  little  flag — blue,  black,  white,  amber, 
or  green,  or  vermilion — on  a  spear,  and  half-way  down 
the  column  the  colour  the  Camerons  gave  them  when 
they  shared  the  glory  of  Ginnis.     Boys  trailed  behind 
them,  and  their  women,  running  to  keep  up,  shot  after 
them  the  thin  screams  that  kindle  Sudanese  to  victory. 
A  black  has  been  known  to  kill  himself  because  his 
wife  called  him  a  coward.     To  me  the  sight  of  that 
magnificent  regiment  was  a  revelation.     One  has  got 
accustomed  to  associate  a  black  skin  with  something 
either  slavish  or  comical.     From  their  faces  these  men 
might  have  been  loafing  darkies  in  South  Carolina  or 
minstrels  in  St  James's  Hall.      But  in  the  smartness 


UNAFRAID   "LIKE   THE   ENGLISH."  91 

of  every  movement,  in  the  pride  of  every  private's 
bearing,  what  a  wonderful  difference !  This  was  quite 
a  new  kind  of  black — every  man  a  warrior  from  his 
youth  up.  "  Lu-u-u,  lu-u-u,"  piped  the  women  ;  the 
men  held  up  their  heads  and  made  no  sound,  but  you 
could  see  the  answer  to  that  appeal  quivering  all  down 
the  column.  For  "  we,"  they  say,  "are  like  the  English  ; 
we  are  not  afraid." 

And  is  it  not  good  to  think,  ladies  and  gentlemen, 
as  you  walk  in  Piccadilly  or  the  Mile  End  Eoad,  that 
every  one  of  these  niggers  honestly  believes  that  to  be 
English  and  to  know  fear  are  two  things  never  heard 
of  together?  Utterly  fearless  themselves,  savages 
brought  up  to  think  death  in  battle  the  natural  lot  of 
man,  far  preferable  to  defeat  or  disgrace,  they  have 
lived  with  English  officers  and  English  sergeants, 
through  years  of  war  and  pestilence,  and  never  seen 
any  sign  that  these  are  not  as  contemptuous  of  death 
as  themselves.  They  have  seen  many  Englishmen  die; 
they  have  never  seen  an  Englishman  show  fear. 


92 


XL 


THE    CONCENTRATION. 

At  the  time  I  was  disposed  to  blame  the  Mess  Presi- 
dent, but  on  calm  reflection  I  see  that  the  fault  lay 
with  the  nature  of  the  Arab.  We  knew  that  the 
Sirdar  was  to  start  early  on  the  15th  on  the  eighteen- 
mile  ride  to  Kenur,  and  it  was  our  purpose  to  travel 
shortly  behind  him.  The  only  restrictions,  I  may  say 
at  once,  laid  upon  correspondents  during  this  campaign 
were  that  they  were  not  to  go  out  on  reconnaissances, 
and  especially  not  to  go  near  the  Sirdar.  They  were 
advised  not  to  stand  in  front  of  the  firing  line  during 
general  actions,  but  even  this  was  not  insisted  upon. 
It  did  indeed  require  a  fair  deal  of  tact  and  agility  to 
keep  out  of  the  Sirdar's  eye,  since  his  Excellency  had 
a  wearing  habit  of  always  appearing  at  any  point 
where  there  was  anything  of  interest  going  on.  But 
practice  soon  brought  proficiency,  and  for  the  rest  the 
correspondent,  except  when  he  had  to  work,  enjoyed 
by  far  the  most  enviable  position  in  the  army. 

Therefore  we  had  planned  to  start  as  soon  as  the 


THE  HUMOURS  OF  TRANSPORT.  93 

Sirdar  was  out  of  sight,  and  arrive  just  after  he  had 
disappeared  into  his  quarters.  We  rose  up  at  five  and 
gloomily  began  to  dismintle  our  home.  We  carted 
the  tables  and  the  chairs  into  the  yard ;  we  tore  down 
the  very  shelves :  who  could  tell  when  they  would  not 
be  useful  ?  By  seven  breakfast  was  over ;  the  horses 
and  camels  were  grouped  around  our  door  in  the  High 
Street ;  the  bags  and  cases  were  fastened  up  and  lying 
each  on  the  right  side  of  its  right  camel.  There  was 
nothing  left  but  the  chairs  and  the  tables  and  the 
shelves  and  a  bucket,  and  the  breakfast  things  and  a 
case  to  put  them  in.  At  eight  I  went  out  to  see  how 
things  were  looking ;  they  were  looking  exactly  the 
same,  a  question  of  precedence  having  arisen  as  to 
whose  duty  it  was  to  wash  up.  At  nine  they  were 
still  the  same,  and  we  expostulated  with  the  men : 
they  said  they  were  just  ready.  At  ten  the  chairs 
and  tables  and  breakfast  things  and  camels  were  still 
lying  about,  and  the  men  had  disappeared.  At  eleven 
they  had  not  returned.  At  twelve  they  condescended 
to  return,  and,  adjourning  the  question  of  washing  up, 
began  packing  the  breakfast  things  dirty.  At  this 
point  each  man  separately  was  called  a  dog,  fined 
a  pound,  and  promised  fifty  lashes.  They  received  the 
judgment  with  surprised  and  wounded  but  respectful 
expostulation :  what  had  they  done  ?  They  had  merely 
been  in  the  bazaar  a  very  little  while,  0  thou  Excel- 
lency, to  buy  food.  By  this  time  we  were  getting 
hungry  ;  so,  rather  than  delay  the  loading  up,  we  went 


94  THE   CONCENTRATION. 

to  a  Greek  cafi  and  lunched  on  ptomained  sardines 
and  vinegar  out  of  a  Graves  bottle.  When  we  got 
back  things  were  exactly  as  we  had  left  them:  the 
men  suavely  explained  that  they  had  been  lunching 
too.  At  last  at  half-past  one  every  camel  had  been 
loaded  and  stood  up ;  and  then  it  was  discovered  that 
all  the  chairs  were  being  left  behind.  It  became 
necessary  to  catch  camels  one  by  one,  climb  up  them, 
and,  standing  on  neck  or  hump,  to  tie  two  chairs 
apiece  on  to  them.  While  the  second  was  being  done, 
the  first  walked  away  and  rubbed  himself  against  a 
wall,  and  knocked  his  chairs  off  again.  Every  one  of 
the  men  rushed  at  him  with  furious  yells ;  the  second 
camel,  left  to  himself,  waddled  up  to  the  wall  with  an 
absent-minded  air,  and  rubbed  off  his  chairs. 

At  this  point — about  two  in  the  afternoon,  six  hours 
after  the  contemplated  start  —  human  nature  could 
bear  it  no  longer.  With  curses  and  blows  we  told 
them  to  follow  immediately  if  they  valued  their  lives, 
and  rode  on.  That  was  all  they  wanted.  Looking 
back  after  a  hundred  yards  we  saw  every  camel  loaded 
up  and  starting.  If  we  had  stayed  behind  we  should 
never  have  got  off  that  night.  If  we  had  ridden  on 
six  hours  before  we  should  not  have  been  delayed. 
One  time  is  as  good  as  another  to  the  Arab  as  long  as 
he  feels  that  he  is  wasting  it.  Give  him  half  an  hour 
and  he  will  take  an  hour ;  allow  him  six  hours  and  he 
will  require  twelve. 

But  of  course  by  this  time  it  was  hopeless  to  expect 


HOW   CAMELS    ARE   LOADED.  95 

that  the  baggage  would  make  eighteen  miles  by  dark. 
At  Essillem,  a  dozen  miles  out,  we  found  Colonel 
Maxwell's  brigade  with  all  its  baggage  packed,  waiting 
only  camels  to  move  on  too.  At  Darmali  we  found 
exactly  the  same  state  of  things.  General  Gatacre's 
never-failing  hospitality  produced  dinner,  after  which 
we  fell  in  with  the  disposition  of  the  rest  of  the  army, 
and  waited  for  camels  too.  At  ten,  just  as  we  were 
going  to  sleep  in  the  sand  in  the  middle  of  the  main 
street  of  the  village,  they  loafed  up,  very  cheerful,  and 
feeling  quite  sure  that  they  would  be  neither  fined 
nor  flogged.  Had  they  not  covered  thirteen  miles  in 
a  trifle  under  eight  hours  ? 

Then  suddenly  I  was  awake  again,  at  the  shy  meet- 
ing of  a  quarter-moon  and  dawn.  The  beginning  of 
what  I  knew,  after  my  boy  came  to  my  chilly  bed- 
chamber under  a  wall  and  said  reveille  was  about  to 
sound,  was  a  monstrous  confusion  of  camels.  You 
could  see  that  the  ground  was  strewn  with  vague, 
shapeless,  swaying  lumps,  with  smaller,  more  agile 
shadows  crawling  over  them.  What  they  were  was 
very  plain  from  the  noises :  the  camels  had  arrived. 
The  camel,  when  it  is  a  question  of  either  working  or 
leaving  off  work  —  so  magnificently  impartial  is  his 
stupidity — can  protest  in  any  voice  from  a  wolf's  snarl 
to  the  wail  of  an  uncomforted  child.  As  each  camel 
was  loaded  it  jerked  up  its  towering  height  and  tower- 
ing load — one  of  ours  this  time,  I  blush  to  say,  was 
two  sacks  of  barley,  a  deal  table,  and  all  the  eight 


96  THE  CONCENTRATION. 

cane-bottomed  chairs,  waving  their  legs  at  the  moon  ; 
and  a  weirdly  disreputable  sight  it  was — and  then  it 
was  the  next  camel's  turn  to  howl.  It  is  a  wonderful 
sight  camels  being  loaded  up,  with  buckets  and  table- 
legs  and  baths  and  tea-kettles,  hung  round  them  as  if 
they  were  Christmas-trees ;  but  one  soon  has  enough 
of  it.  So  I  left  them  trying  to  eat  the  hospital  stores, 
and  rode  slowly  out  into  the  twilight. 

Outside  the  zariba  a  heavy  black  snake  was  forging 
slowly  along  the  desert  road ;  when  I  came  nearer  it 
changed  into  a  centipede;  then  the  centipede  had  a 
kilt  on,  and  finally  it  divided  into  the  Cameron  High- 
landers. In  front  of  them  were  the  Warwicks,  behind 
them  the  Maxim  battery — four  guns  with  carriages 
and  three  mules  tandem,  two  on  tripods  and  one  mule 
to  carry  the  whole  gun — and  the  Lincolns ;  the  whole 
brigade  was  on  the  march.  Only  seventy-five  men  of 
each  regiment  remained,  to  their  indignation,  as  guard 
for  the  stores  that  the  camels  must  make  a  second 
journey  to  fetch.  As  for  the  heavy  baggage,  that  was 
put  in  the  houses  of  the  village  and  left  to  its  fate. 
Officers  started  with  30-lb.  kit,  and  men  with  9-lb. 
Scarcity  of  camels  perhaps  justified  the  abandonment, 
but  with  the  thermometer  already  100°  in  the  shade,  it 
meant  a  lot  of  hardship. 

After  a  month  and  a  half  of  General  Gatacre,  five 
miles  with  rifle  and  ammunition  and  9-lb.  kit  is  very 
much  the  same  to  the  British  soldier  as  walking  down- 
stairs to  breakfast  is  to  you.     They  were  just  getting 


BUILDING  A  ZARIBA.  97 

into  their  stride  when  the  sun  rose.  The  orange  ball 
stepped  up  over  the  desert  sky-line  briskly  and  all  in 
one  piece,  plainly  intending  to  do  a  good  day's  work 
before  he  lay  down  again — and  behold,  we  were  at 
Kenur.  Behold,  also,  the  Sirdar's  flag,  white  star  and 
crescent  on  red,  borne  by  one  of  three  orderlies.  Be- 
fore it  rode  the  Sirdar  himself,  in  white  apparel,  fresh 
and  cool,  also  like  one  who  has  his  work  before  him 
and  knows  how  it  is  done,  and  means  to  do  it.  The 
British  halted.  There  was  a  word  and  a  rattle,  and 
the  battalions  which  had  been  formed  in  one  lon<? 
column,  four  abreast,  were  marching  off  at  right  angles 
in  columns  of  a  company  apiece.  In  no  space  and 
no  time  the  whole  brigade  had  tucked  itself  away 
and  taken  up  its  quarters.  And  hardly  had  the 
British  left  the  road  clear  than  in  swung  the  second 
black  brigade  from  Essillem. 

These  were  different,  many  of  them,  from  the  lank 
soldiers  of  the  9th — short  and  stubby,  plainly  of  other 
tribes ;  but  whether  the  black  has  seventy-eight  inches 
or  sixty,  every  one  of  them  is  a  soldier.  They  tramped 
past  with  their  untirable  bands  drumming  and  blow- 
ing beside  them ;  in  a  couple  of  hours  they  had  cut 
their  mimosa  and  made  their  zariba,  and  all  the  Der- 
vishes in  the  Sudan  would  not  be  too  many  for  them. 
The  British,  too,  were  out  all  day  in  the  sun,  at  the 
same  work,  every  man  with  his  rifle  on  his  back.  It 
had  warmed  up  a  little  more  now — though  100°  in 
the  dry  Sudan  is  not  near  so  hot  as  it  would  be  in 


98  THE  CONCENTRATION. 

England — but  the  British  stuck  to  their  work  like 
men,  and  their  zariba,  a  word  unknown  to  them  two 
months  back,  was  every  bit  as  straight,  and  thick,  and 
prickly  as  the  natives'. 

And  now  we  were  concentrated,  and  only  waited  for 
them  to  come  on.  And,  wonderful  beyond  all  hope, 
they  were  coming  on.  The  indispensable  gunboats, 
tirelessly  patrolling  the  river,  kept  the  Sirdar  fully 
informed  of  everything.  On  Shebaliya  Island,  forty 
miles  south  of  the  Atbara,  they  had  slung  an  angareb 
aloft  between  a  couple  of  spars.  The  Dervishes'  route 
led  within  twelve  hundred  yards  of  it.  There  they 
passed  everlastingly  —  men,  women,  and  children ; 
horses,  goats,  and  donkeys,  singing  and  braying,  flying 
their  banners,  thrumming  their  war-drums,  booming 
their  melancholy  war  -  horn.  And  on  the  angareb, 
under  an  umbrella,  sat  a  man  and  counted  them. 
There  was  reason  to  hope  that  they  were  little  short 
of  20,000. 

Conformably  with  the  traditions  of  the  gunboat 
service,  things  did  not  stop  at  counting.  On  the  13th 
Bimbashi  Sitwell  and  a  section  of  the  4th  Egyptians 
landed  from  the  Fatha,  Lieutenant  Beatty's  boat,  and 
attacked  a  large  force  which  had  crossed  to  the  island. 
There  were  about  1000  Dervishes  and  40  Egyptians, 
but  neither  of  the  united  services  saw  anything 
irregular  in  the  proceedings.  In  face  of  the  swarm 
of  enemies  Bimbashi  Sitwell  led  his  men  into  a  ditch; 
whence  they  kept  up  a  steady  fire.     Suddenly  he  felt 


TRIUMPHANT  AUDACITY.  99 

a  tremendous  blow  on  his  shoulder;  he  thought  oue 
of  the  soldiers  had  let  his  rifle  out  of  hand,  but  turn- 
ing round  to  swear,  found  himself  on  his  back.  Then 
he  heard  the  voice  of  Lieutenant  Beatty,  E.N. :  "  It's 
all  right,"  it  said  ;  "  we're  doing  'em  proper."  "  Make 
it  so,"  he  replied  nautically,  and  then,  hearing  a  new 
burst  of  fire  from  the  right,  "  You'd  better  order  up  a 
few  more  file,  and  turn  them  out  of  that."  The  next 
thing  he  knew,  after  the  blank,  was  that  they  were 
turned  out  of  that,  and  that  38  of  them  were  dead, 
which  was  very  nearly  one  each  for  the  40  Egyptians. 
Bimbashi  Sit  well  had  a  well-furnished  pair  of  shoul- 
ders. The  bullet  ran  through  both,  but  missed  the 
spine.  Four  days  after,  he  was  receiving  visitors  at 
Fort  Atbara  in  pyjamas  and  a  cigarette.  Which  was 
a  happy  issue  to  perhaps  the  most  staggeringly  auda- 
cious of  all  the  audacities  perpetrated  by  the  gunboats 
on  the  Nile. 


100 


XIL 

AT    KENUR, 

The  first  thing  I  saw  of  the  social  life  of  Kenur  was 
the  Press  censor  shaving  himself :  he  said  that  any- 
body might  take  any  quarters  that  nobody  else  had 
taken.  As  he  spoke  my  eye  fell  on  a  round  tukl 
between  the  Sirdar's  quarters,  the  Censor's,  and  the 
telegraph  tent — plainly  an  ideal  residence  for  corre- 
spondents. It  appeared  empty.  True,  it  was  not 
much  bigger  than  a  'bus-driver's  umbrella;  but  you 
could  just  get  three  men  and  a  table  into  it.  It 
would  do  very  well  for  to-day:  to-morrow  we  ex- 
pected to  fight.  As  it  turned  out,  we  stayed  at  Kenur 
four  days,  during  which  the  tukl  contracted  hourly, 
till  in  the  end  it  seemed  nearly  half  big  enough  for  one 
person.  Moreover,  it  turned  out  to  be  tenanted  after 
all — by  enormous  bees,  which  had  dug  out  the  inside 
of  the  wooden  framework  till  the  whole  place  was  one 
large  hive.  Honour  and  prudence  alike  seemed  to  call 
for  an  attack  on  them.  But  on  reflection  I  pointed 
out  that  the  truest  courage  lay  in  sitting  quite  still 


AKEIVAL  OF  THE  SEAFOKTHS.         101 

when  a  large  bee  settled  on  the  back  of  your  neck,  and 
that  the  truest  precaution  lay  in  smoking  tobacco. 
So  we  sat  down  quite  still  and  smoked  tobacco  for 
four  days. 

Kenur  was  like  all  the  villages  in  this  part  of  the 
world,  only  if  possible  longer.  All  are  built  along 
the  Nile,  that  the  inhabitants  may  have  as  short  a 
way  as  possible  to  go  for  water :  Kenur  was  from  two 
to  three  miles  long,  and  the  camp  stretched  the  whole 
length  of  it.  Between  the  camp  and  the  river  was 
nearly  a  mile  of  land  once  cultivated,  now  overgrown 
with  Sodom  apples.  Nervous  critics  pointed  out  that 
dervishes  might  attack  the  long  line  of  the  zariba, 
and  slip  in  between  the  force  and  its  water.  But 
most  people  knew  that  nothing  of  the  sort  would 
happen.  The  Sirdar  is  not  the  man  to  wait  to  be 
attacked,  and  the  long,  open  camp  was  beautifully 
adapted  for  bringing  out  the  whole  army  in  fighting- 
line  at  a  moment's  notice. 

The  first  afternoon  at  Kenur  was  enlivened  by  the 
advent  of  the  first  four  companies  of  the  Seaforths. 
They  came  by  steamer,  smiling  all  over,  from  colonel 
to  private,  to  find  they  were  in  time.  Down  by  the 
river  to  meet  them  was  an  enormous  band  drawn  from 
all  the  blacks,  bristling  with  half-jocose,  half-ferocious 
swagger  as  the  darlings  always  are.  The  Seaforths 
formed  up  into  column,  deep-chested,  upstanding,  un- 
deniable, a  delight  to  look  upon  ;  the  Sirdar  fell  in  by 
the  colonel,  the  band  began  to  wail  out  "  Hieland 


102  AT  KENUK. 

Laddie "  and  "  Annie  Laurie,"  and  anything  else  it 
thought  would  make  them  feel  at  home,  and  off  they 
swung  towards  the  southern  horn  of  the  zariba.  All 
round  it  they  marched,  every  regiment,  white,  black, 
and  yellow,  lining  the  route  in  its  turn,  following  its 
colonel  in  "Hip,  hip,  hip,  hurrah  ! "  Does  not  every 
native  soldier  know  that  the  Highlanders  have  sworn 
to  wear  no  trousers  till  they  put  them  on  in  Khartum  ? 
The  second  four  companies  came  in  next  day,  with 
an  equal  ear-splitting.  Colonel  Lewis's  brigade  at 
Fort  Atbara  was  only  five  miles  off,  connected  by 
telegraph,  so  that  now  we  were  complete.  Meanwhile 
the  days  at  Kenur  were  not  wasted — days  seldom  are 
with  the  Sirdar  about.  Every  morning  at  half-past 
six  or  so  the  whole  force  paraded  and  manoeuvred. 
The  first  day's  exercise  was  an  attack  in  line,  British 
on  the  right,  Maxwell's  in  the  centre,  M'Donald's  on 
the  left.  The  two  latter  used  the  attack  formation  of 
the  Egyptian  army — four  of  each  battalion's  six  com- 
panies in  line  and  two  in  support.  The  British  had 
three  battalions  in  line  and  the  four  companies  of  the 
Seaforths  in  support:  on  each  flank  were  guns,  and 
the  extreme  battalion  in  each  case  was  in  column  of 
companies.  This  was  the  formation  in  which  the 
Sirdar  advanced  on  Dongola  in  '96,  except  that  the 
place  of  the  flanking  columns  was  there  taken  on  the 
right  by  the  cavalry — who  now  were  of  course  recon- 
noitring all  day — and  on  the  left  by  the  Kile  with 
the  gunboats. 


A   STATELY   SPECTACLE.  103 

The  next  day  the  force  manoeuvred  in  brigade 
squares  in  echelon,  and  the  day  after  formed  one 
square  of  the  whole  army,  skeleton  companies  repre- 
senting the  Third  Brigade.  It  was  in  the  first  of  these 
formations  that  we  did  all  the  subsequent  marching 
up  the  Atbara — a  stately  spectacle.  On  the  right, 
and  leading,  was  the  British  brigade — an  advancing 
wave  of  desert-coloured  khaki,  with  a  dash  of  dark 
for  the  kilts  of  the  Highlanders.  They  marched  in 
columns  of  fours,  that  being  a  handy  and  flexible  for- 
mation, and  easily  kept  in  line :  the  officer  has  only 
to  see  that  four  men  are  keeping  a  proper  front  with 
the  rest  of  the  brigade  instead  of  fifty  ;  and  at  the 
word  all  can  wheel  up  into  line  in  less  than  a  minute. 
Next,  leftward  and  clear  in  rear,  so  that  an  attack  on 
its  front  or  the  British  flank  would  meet  a  cross-fire, 
marched  Maxwell's  brigade.  Leftward  and  in  rear 
of  that  came  Macdonald.  The  Egyptian  forces,  march- 
ing in  line  for  the  front  and  rear  of  the  square, 
and  in  column  for  its  flanks,  and  having  darker  uni- 
form, made  a  denser  blotch  on  the  desert  than  the 
British.  But  dark  or  light,  when  you  looked  along 
the  force  it  was  tremendous,  going  forward  wave  by 
wave  irresistibly,  devouring  the  desert. 

Thus,  on  the  morning  of  Sunday,  March  20,  the 
force  broke  up  from  Kenur.  The  camp  went  wild, 
for  the  news  said  that  Mahmud  was  actually  on  the 
Atbara  at  last.  He  had  seized  Hudi  ford,  it  was  said, 
seven  miles  from  the  junction  of  the  rivers;  and  to 


104  AT  KENTJR. 

Hudi  we  were  to  march  straight  across  the  desert.  The 
Intelligence  Department  more  than  half  disbelieved 
the  native  stories.  The  native  has  no  words  for  dis- 
tance and  number  but  "near"  and  "  far,"  "few"  and 
"many"  ;  "near"  may  be  anything  within  twenty  miles, 
while  "  many  "  ranges  from  a  hundred  to  a  hundred 
thousand.  However  we  marched — eleven  miles  at 
two  miles  an  hour,  in  a  choking  sand-storm  that 
muffled  the  sun  to  a  pale  winter  moon,  till  at  three  in 
the  afternoon  we  struck  the  river  at  Hudi.  Here  we 
found  three  battalions  of  Lewis's  brigade,  the  15th 
being  left  to  garrison  Fort  Atbara ;  but  devil  a 
dervish. 


105 


XIII. 


ON    THE    ATBARA. 


Coming  down  to  the  Atbara  after  the  desert  was  like 
entering  the  gates  of  heaven.  To  you  in  England, 
fields  pulsing  with  green  wheat  and  gardens  aflame 
with  tulips,  it  might  have  seemed  faded.  To  us  it 
was  paradise. 

The  north  bank  drops  twenty  feet  plumb  to  the 
sky-blue  river.  A  stone's -throw  across,  the  other 
bank  is  splashed  with  grass  that  struggles  against 
jaundice;  but  it  is  real  grass,  and  almost  greenish, 
and  after  the  desert  we  are  very  grateful  for  it.  Be- 
yond that  shelves  a  bare  white-brown  beach,  thirsty 
for  flood-time;  beyond  that  a  wall  of  white-green 
new  -  fledged  mimosa  topped  with  turrets  of  palm. 
Over  it  all  the  intense  blue  canopy  of  midday,  the 
fires  of  sunset,  or  the  black  roof  of  midnight  pierced 
with  innumerable  stars,  so  white  and  clear  that  you 
almost  hold  up  your  hand  to  touch  them  —  it  was 
worth  a  couple  of  marches  of  sand-storm  to  come 
into  such  a  land. 


106  ON   THE   ATBARA. 

Our  side,  too,  was  thick  with  mimosa  and  dom- 
palm,  and  tufted  with  grass — great  coarse  bunches, 
mostly  as  thick  as  straw  and  as  yellow ;  but  a  few 
blades  maintained  a  bloodless  green,  and  horses  and 
camels  went  without  their  sleep  to  tear  at  them.  The 
camels  eat  the  mimosa  too — elsewhere  a  bush  that 
grows  thorns  and  little  yellow  honey-breathing  fluff- 
balls,  but  on  the  fruitful  Atbara  a  cedar-spreading 
tree,  with  young  leaves  like  an  acacia's.  The  camels 
rear  up  their  affected  heads,  and  ecstatically  scrunch 
thorns  that  wrould  run  any  other  beast's  tongue 
through  ;  their  lips  drop  blood,  but  they  never  notice 
it.  And  the  blacks  eat  the  dom-nuts — things  like 
petrified  prize  apricots,  whose  kernel  makes  vegetable 
ivory,  and  whose  husks,  they  say,  taste  like  ginger- 
bread ;  though,  having  no  ore-crusher  in  my  kit,  I 
cannot  speak  to  that.  But  lanky  Sambo  was  never 
tired  of  shying  at  them  as  they  clustered  just  above 
the  dead  leaves  and  just  below  the  green,  and  Private 
Atkins  lent  a  hand  with  enthusiasm.  Then  Sambo 
would  grin  all  round  his  head  and  crack  the  flinty 
things  between  his  shining  teeth,  and  Thomas  would 
stand  staring  at  him,  uncertain  whether  he  was  a 
long-lost  brother-in-arms  or  something  out  of  a  circus. 

They  might  well  chew  mimosa,  and  halfa-grass, 
and  dom-nuts,  for  even  on  the  river  we  were  in  a 
desert.  We  marched  and  camped  in  an  utterly  empty 
land.  Atbara  banks  are  green,  birds  whistle  and  coo 
in  the  tree-tops,  now  and  again  a  hare  switchbacks 


AN   EMPTY  LAND.  107 

across  the  line  of  march ;  but  along  all  the  river  there 
was  not  one  living  man.  Here  on  the  Atbara  there 
were  but  rare  traces  of  population — a  few  stones,  half 
buried,  standing  for  salt-workings,  or  a  round,  half 
washed-out  mud-bank  for  a  wall. 

In  the  empty  Nile  villages  their  bones  were  long 
ago  gnawed  white  by  jackals  and  hyenas,  their  sons 
were  speared  and  thrown  into  the  river,  their  wives 
and  daughters  led  away  to  the  harems  of  Omdurman. 
It  is  good  land  for  the  Sudan  in  this  corner  of  the 
two  rivers,  worth,  in  places,  perhaps  as  much  as  a 
penny  an  acre;  and  the  Khalifa  has  swept  it  quite 
clean,  and  left  it  quite  soulless. 

And  soulless  it  seemed  to  stay.  We  slept  one 
night  at  Hudi  in  a  sand-floored  quadrangle  of  zariba, 
and  you  could  hear  the  men  expecting  battle  through 
their  sleep.  Next  day,  still  looking  to  see  black  heads 
and  spears  rise  over  every  sky-line,  we  marched  to 
Eas  el  Hudi,  six  miles  farther.  Both  Hudis  were 
fords  over  the  Atbara,  and  where  one  ended  the 
other  began :  as  the  river  was  already  nearly  all  ford, 
and  the  whole  place  contained  not  a  single  hut, 
you  could  call  anywhere  anything  you  liked.  That 
same  day  (March  21st)  the  cavalry  found  the  enemy. 
Perhaps  it  would  be  more  strictly  correct  to  say  that 
the  enemy  found  them:  they  were  halted  and  dis- 
mounted when  the  Dervish  horse  suddenly  attacked 
the  sentries.  The  troopers  were  in  their  saddles  and 
out  at  the  enemy  smartly  enough,  and  after  a  short 


108  ON  THE   ATBARA. 

scuffle  the  Dervishes  sheered  off  into  the  bush.  The 
cavalry  lost  seven  troopers  killed  and  eight  wounded, 
of  whom  two  died  next  day.  These  were  the  first 
fatalities  of  the  campaign. 

Next  day,  the  bulk  of  the  force  remaining  in  Eas 
Hudi  camp,  a  stronger  reconnaissance  went  out — all  the 
cavalry,  with  Maxims  and  the  13th  Sudanese  in  sup- 
port. Just  as  we  were  sitting  down  to  breakfast  we 
heard  heavy  firing  up  river.  On  the  sound  rang  out 
bugles ;  syces  could  be  seen  frantically  slamming 
saddles  on  to  horses,  and  tugging  them  over  to  the 
Sirdar's  headquarters.  Ten  seconds  later  the  whole 
force  was  getting  under  arms.  I  pushed  a  tinned 
sausage  down  my  throat  and  a  biscuit  into  my  holster, 
looked  that  my  water-bottle  was  both  full  and  well- 
corked —  of  course  it  was  neither  —  and  blundered 
through  tussocks  and  mimosa  -  thorns  out  of  camp. 
Already  the  long  columns  of  khaki  wTere  combining 
into  brigade-squares  ;  in  a  matter  of  minutes  the  army 
was  riveted  together  and  rolling  majestically  over  the 
swaying  desert  towards  the  firing.  This  time,  by  a 
variation  on  the  usual  order,  Macdonald's  brigade  was 
on  the  right,  its  front  level  with  Gatacre's,  while  Max- 
well was  echeloned  on  the  left,  and  Lewis  in  support : 
the  reason  for  this  was  that  half  a  mile  of  bush  fringed 
the  Atbara,  and  the  blacks  were  expected  to  be  handier 
in  it  than  the  British.  So  we  marched  and  marched. 
The  British  officers  had  had  no  breakfast,  but  they 
were  used  to  that  by  now :   officers  and  men — white, 


A  FALSE  ALARM.  109 

black,  and  brown — all  tingled  with  the  exultant  anti- 
cipation of  battle.  At  last,  four  miles  or  so  out  of 
camp,  we  halted  before  a  mile-wide  slope  of  stony 
gravel — a  God-sent  field  of  fire.  On  the  brow  we 
could  see  a  picket  of  cavalry :  presently  a  rider 
detached  himself,  and  came  bucketing  towards  the 
Sirdar's  flag.  The  order  was  given  to  load,  and  the 
sigh  of  contentment  could  be  heard  above  the  clatter 
of  locks.     It  had  come  at  last! 

But  it  hadn't.  We  had  noted  it  as  ominous  that  no 
more  firing  had  beckoned  us  as  we  advanced.  The 
reconnaissance  and  the  fight  alike  seemed  to  have 
faded  in  front  of  us  like  a  mirage.  The  sun  was 
getting  hot  overhead :  to  go  on  indefinitely  without 
any  kind  of  baggage  was  not  to  be  thought  of.  "  Eise 
up,  men,  and  prepare  to  go  home,"  came  the  reluctant 
order.  The  army  rose  up  and  faced  about,  and  cursed 
its  way  into  camp  again.  It  turned  out  afterwards 
that  the  enemy's  cavalry  had  appeared  in  force,  and 
that  ours  led  them  back  to  the  13th.  Collinson  Bey 
formed  square,  and  gave  them  a  volley  or  two  at  half 
a  mile  or  so.  A  few  Dervishes  came  out  of  their 
saddles ;  and  that  was  all,  for  they  fell  back  and  re- 
appeared no  more. 

After  that  came  to-morrow  and  to-morrow  and  to- 
morrow. Some  days  there  was  a  little  shooting,  other 
days  there  was  not ;  and  we  in  camp  heard  and  saw 
nothing  in  either  case.  Every  morning  one  or  two 
native   battalions   with   Maxims   went  out,  support- 


110  ON   THE  ATBARA. 

ing  the  cavalry.  They  went  out  about  three,  and 
frizzled  through  morning,  midday,  and  afternoon  at  a 
genial  spot  called  Khor  Abadar,  five  or  six  miles  out : 
a  khor  is  a  dry  desert  watercourse,  but  this  one  was  no 
more — nor  less — than  about  a  mile  of  what  looked  like 
rather  rough  sea  solidified  into  clay.  Having  frizzled 
duly  there  all  day,  they  would  swing  in  again  at  seven 
or  so,  striding  into  camp  bolt  upright  and  with  a 
jaunty  snap,  as  if  they  had  been  out  a  quarter  of  an 
hour  for  a  constitutional.  You  could  always  tell  when 
the  reconnaissance  was  coming  in  by  the  rolls  of  dust 
that  blotted  out  the  camp.  At  the  corner  where  they 
stepped  inside  the  zariba,  Blackfriars  on  a  November 
night  was  midday  to  it.  You  caught  at  a  black  face 
and  the  top  of  a  shouldered  rifle  floating  past  from  one 
eye  to  the  other ;  you  felt,  rather  than  beheld,  a  loom- 
ing horse-head  and  lance- butt  over  your  shoulder. 
You  neither  saw  nor  heard,  but  were  aware  of  regi- 
inents  and  squadrons  as  in  the  dream  of  a  dog-sleep. 
And  as  lazy  day  sweated  after  lazy  day,  the  whole 
camp  and  the  whole  army  began  to  dim  into  the 
phantom  of  a  dream.  The  vivacious,  never-sleepy 
bugles  became  a  singing  in  your  ear,  the  ripple  of  sun 
on  bayonets  was  spots  before  the  eyes,  the  rumour  of 
the  crouching  enemy  was  the  echo  of  a  half-remembered 
fairy  tale  very,  very  far  away. 

For,  to  be  quite  truthful,  during  that  long  succes- 
sion of  to-morrows  at  Has  el  Hudi,  nobody  quite  knew 
where  the  Dervishes  were.     It  was  quite  certain  they 


WAITING  THE  ENEMY.  Ill 

were  somewhere  near,  for  their  cavalry  was  seen 
almost  daily ;  and  they  must  be  camped  on  the 
Atbara,  for  there  was  nowhere  else  whence  they 
could  get  water.  We  were  quite  confident  that  they 
were  there,  and  that  the  fight  was  coming,  and  we 
invented  all  sorts  of  stories  to  explain  their  delay  in 
coming  on.  They  started  down  the  Nile  fast ;  they  have 
slackened  now — so  we  assured  ourselves — to  wait  for 
their  rear-guard,  or  to  reconnoitre,  or  to  knock  down 
dom-nuts,  or  for  any  of  a  thousand  reasons,  and  we 
were  here  a  day  sooner  than  was  necessary.  A  day 
too  soon,  of  course,  was  nothing — or  rather  it  would 
be  nothing  after  we  had  fought;  at  present  an  extra 
day  certainly  meant  a  little  longer  discomfort.  You 
must  remember  that  the  army  was  nearly  1400  miles 
from  the  sea,  and  about  1200  from  any  place  that  the 
things  armies  want  could  possibly  come  from.  It  had 
to  be  supplied  along  a  sand -banked  river,  a  single 
line  of  rail,  which  was  carrying  the  material  for  its 
own  construction  as  well,  and  various  camel-tracks. 
That  13,000  men  could  ever  have  been  brought  into 
this  hungry  limbo  at  all  shows  that  the  Sirdar  is  the 
only  English  general  who  has  known  how  to  campaign 
in  this  country.  The  real  enemy,  he  has  seen,  is  not 
the  Dervishes,  whom  we  have  always  beaten,  but  the 
Sudan  itself. 

He  was  conquering  it;  but  for  the  moment  the 
Sudan  had  an  opening,  and  began  trying  us  rather 
high.      Not    me   personally,    who   had    three   camels 


112  ON  THE  ATBARA. 

and  two  blankets  and  much  tinned  meat.  To 
me  and  my  likes  the  Sirdar's  refusal  of  transport — 
most  natural  and  proper,  after  all — had  been  a  bless- 
ing; it  had  made  correspondents  self-supporting,  and 
therewith  rich.  But  for  the  moment  the  want  of 
transport  and  Mahmud's  delay  in  coming  on  was  hard 
on  the  troops — especially  hard  on  the  British  brigade, 
and  hardest  of  all  on  their  officers.  Officers  and  men 
came  alike  with  one  blanket  and  no  overcoat.  Now 
you  must  know  that,  though  the  Sudan  can  be  live 
coals  by  day,  it  can  be  aching  ice  by  night.  It  is  the 
healthiest  climate  in  the  world  if  you  have  shade  at 
noon  and  many  rugs  an  hour  before  reveille ;  but  if 
you  have  not,  and  especially  if  you  happen  to  be  a 
kilted  Highlander,  it  interferes  with  sleep. 

You  must  further  remember  that  we  left  Kenur 
with  the  intention  of  fighting  next  day  or  the 
next.  The  British  took  the  expectation  seriously; 
the  Egyptian  officers  did  not.  "You  see,"  said  one, 
"  I've  been  in  this  bally  country  five  years ;  so  when 
I  was  told  to  bring  two  days'  kit,  I  brought  a  fort- 
night's." He  was  now  sending  his  private  camel  back 
to  Fort  Atbara  for  more ;  the  officers  of  the  British 
brigade  had  no  private  camels.  The  officers  had 
brought  only  what  could  go  into  a  haversack,  which 
includes,  roughly,  soap  and  a  sponge,  and  a  tooth- 
brush and  a  towel,  but  not  a  clean  shirt,  nor  a 
handkerchief,  nor  shaving-tackle;  so  that  the  gilded 
popinjays  were  a  little  tarnished  just  at  present.     One 


HOW  BRITISH   OFFICERS   FARED.  113 

of  them  said,  most  truly,  that  an  English  tramp  in 
summer,  with  a  sweet  haystack  to  sleep  under,  and 
sixpence  a-day  for  bread  and  cheese  and  beer  at  way- 
side inns,  was  out  of  reckoning  better  off  than  a 
British  officer  on  the  banks  of  the  Atbara.  He  slept 
on  a  pillow  of  dusty  sand,  which  worked  steadily  into 
his  hair ;  he  got  up  in  the  middle  of  the  night  to 
patrol ;  then  he  lay  down  again  and  shivered.  The 
men  could  sleep  three  together  under  a  triple  layer  of 
blanket;  the  officers  must  sleep  each  in  his  position 
on  the  flank  or  in  the  centre  of  his  company.  When 
he  got  up  in  the  morning  he  had  nothing  to  shave 
with,  and  lucky  if  he  got  a  wash.  The  one  camel- 
load  of  mess  stores  was  wellnigh  eaten  up  by  now; 
he  received  the  same  ration  as  the  men.  His  one 
shirt  was  no  longer  clean ;  he  hardly  dared  pull  out 
his  one  handkerchief ;  he  went  barefoot  inside  his  boots 
while  his  socks  were  being  washed.  And  always — 
night  or  day,  on  fatigue  or  at  leisure,  relatively  clean 
or  unredeemedly  dirty,  when  he  had  borrowed  a  shave 
and  felt  almost  like  a  gentleman  again,  or  when  he 
lay  with  his  head  in  the  dust  and  the  black  private 
doubted  whether  he  should  salute  or  not — his  first 
paternal  thought  was  the  wellbeing  of  his  men. 

When  we  found  Mahmud  he  should  pay  for  it. 
But  in  the  meantime  where  was  he?  There  was  a 
perpetual  series  of  cavalry  reconnaissances,  and  a 
perpetual  stream  of  scallywags  coming  in  from  his 
camp.    Any  day  from  dawn  to  dark  you  might  see 


114  ON   THE  ATBAKA. 

half -clothed  black  men  squatting  before  Colonel 
Wingate.  Some  were  fairly  fat ;  some  were  bags  of 
bones.  But  all  stated  with  one  consent  that  they 
were  hungry,  and  having  received  refreshment  felt 
that  they  could  do  no  less  than  tell  Colonel  Wingate 
such  tidings  as  they  conceived  he  would  like  to  hear. 
There  was  no  such  thing  as  a  place  on  the  Atbara, 
as  I  have  explained :  there  were  names  on  the  map, 
but  as  they  named  nothing  in  particular  you  could 
put  them  anywhere  you  liked  within  ten  miles  or 
so.  Also,  there  is  no  such  thing  as  distance  in  the 
native  mind,  so  that  the  native  also  could  locate  any- 
thing anywhere  that  seemed  convenient. 

On  the  27th  Bimbashi  Haig  reconnoitred  the  op- 
posite bank  of  the  Atbara  up  to  Manawi — say  eighteen 
miles — and  saw  no  trace  of  the  enemy.  Combining 
that  fact  with  the  precipitate  from  the  scallywags' 
stories,  we  came  to  the  conclusion  that  Mahmud  and 
Osman  were  on  the  southern  bank,  somewhere  near 
the  spot  marked  on  the  map  as  Hilgi.  It  was  believed 
that  on  the  first  news  of  the  first  cavalry  contact  they 
entrenched  themselves  there  in  a  four-mile  belt  of 
scrub.  Now  General  Hunter  had  made  a  reconnais- 
sance up  the  Atbara  last  winter  as  far  as  Adarama — 
indispensably  informative  it  turned  out — and  the  Staff 
know  what  sort  of  scrub  it  is.  It  is  an  impenetrable, 
flesh-tearing  jungle  of  mimosa-spears  and  dom-palm 
and  stumbly  halfa-grass  and  hanging  ropes  of  creeper : 
no  army  in  the  world  could  possibly  attack  through  it. 


A  BOLD  STRATAGEM.  115 

That  being  so,  the  Sirdar's  course  appeared  to  be 
to  wait  at  Ras  el  Hudi  until  Mahrnud  came  out. 
Hunger  might  bring  him  out — only  as  yet  it  had  not. 
The  more  trustworthy  of  the  deserters  said  that  there 
was  still  a  certain  store  of  food.  You  must  know 
that  the  Dervishes  have  honeycombed  the  Sudan  with 
caches  of  buried  grain :  many  have  been  found  and 
opened  by  the  Egyptian  army,  but  it  is  possible 
that  some  remain  to  draw  on.  Moreover,  men  who 
were  at  Toski  told  how,  in  the  starving  army  of 
Wad-el-Nejumi,  the  fighting  men  were  well  fed 
enough :  it  was  the  women  and  the  children  and 
the  followers  whose  ribs  broke  through  the  skin. 
The  scallywags  were  starved,  of  course:  that  is  why 
they  came  in,  and  being  starved  themselves  they  saw 
the  whole  army  in  like  case.  But  it  seemed  by  the 
best  information  that  what  with  food  they  brought, 
and  stores  they  found,  and  dom-nuts  they  knocked  off 
the  trees,  the  dervishes  had  a  few  days  of  fairly  filled 
stomach  before  them  yet. 

Then  how  to  fetch  them  out  ?  The  situation  called 
for  a  bold  stroke,  and  the  Sirdar  answered  it,  after  his 
wont,  with  a  bold  and  safe  one.  On  the  morning  of 
March  24  the  15  th  Egyptians  left  Fort  Atbara  in  the 
three  gunboats  for  Shendi.  Left  at  Shendi  were  all 
the  women  of  Mahmud's  force,  and  with  his  women 
gone  the  Sudani  is  only  half  a  man.  It  might  draw 
him  and  it  might  not ;  it  was  worth  trying. 


116 


XIV. 

THE   RAID    ON    SHENDI. 

I  had  stepped  out  in  the  morning  to  pick  fruit  from 
the  sanduk  for  breakfast.  Below  me,  in  the  shallow 
river,  a  damson-skinned  black  was  bathing  and  wash- 
ing his  white  Friday  clothes  and  whistling  "  The 
British  Grenadiers."  The  sun  was  just  up;  but  in 
the  Sudan  he  begins  to  blister  things  the  moment  he 
is  over  the  horizon.  The  sanduk  lay  on  the  south  side 
of  the  north  wall  of  our  zariba.  Greengages  were 
glittering  in  the  young  sunshine;  but  to  pull  up  mis 
apprehension,  I  may  as  well  say  at  once  that  sanduk 
is  the  Arabic  for  provision-case,  and  that  our  green- 
gages glittered  through  glass  bottles.  It  may  be  that 
you  were  never  much  attracted  by  bottled  fruits.  But 
they  taste  of  fruit  a  good  deal  more  than  tinned  ones ; 
and  when  your  midday  is  six  hours  of  solid  110  in 
the  shade,  you  will  find  bottled  fruits  one  of  the 
things  least  impossible  to  eat  that  you  are  likely  to 
get. 

Therewith  entered  the  Mess-President's  head  camel- 


A   NEW   USE   FOR   ELLIMAN.  117 

man.  He  was  a  Jaali  by  tribe;  his  name  meant 
"Powerful  in  the  Faith";  and  in  this  wilderness  I 
liked  to  think  that  if  he  were  not  black,  and  had  no 
moustache,  and  no  razor-cut  tribal  marks  on  his  cheeks, 
his  tilted  nose  and  smiling  teeth,  and  erect,  sprightly 
carriage  would  make  hiin  a  rather  pretty-ugly  French 
girl.  He  approached  his  lord's  bed  before  the  tent 
door  and  pattered  Arabic  faster  than  I  can  keep  up 
with.  But  the  sum  of  his  tale  was  this  :  that  the  raid 
on  Shendi  had  been  a  great  success,  many  Dervishes 
were  slain,  and  many  taken,  with  many  women 
and  children ;  that  his  fellow-Jaalin  had  done  best 
part  of  the  execution,  and  that  the  15th  Battalion  was 
already  back  again  at  Fort  Atbara. 

Then  let  us  go  to  Fort  Atbara,  said  we,  and  hear  all 
about  it.  We  are  going  mouldy  for  want  of  exercise 
— and,  to  be  quite  open  with  you,  the  liquor  famine 
here  is  getting  grave.  Last  night  the  boy  came  up 
with  a  couple  of  bottles  :  "  Only  two  wine  more,"  said 
he,  and  mournfully  displayed  one  Scrubbs's  Cloudy 
Ammonia  —  try  it  in  your  bath,  but  not  in  your 
drinking-cup  —  and  one  Elliman's  Embrocation.  So 
saddle  up;  it  is  1000  to  5  against  a  fight  here  to-day, 
and  it  is  better  to  sweat  a-horseback  in  the  desert 
oven-blast  than  fry  in  sand  and  camp-smells  here. 

So  the  Mess-President  and  I  picked  our  way  over 
the  spongy  ground  outside  camp  where  the  water  lies 
in  flood  time,  and  then  swung  out,  quarter  of  an  hour 
canter  and  ten  minutes  walk,  over  the  hard  sand  and 


118  THE   RAID   ON   SHENDI. 

gravel  of  the  desert.  The  way  from  Fort  AV  >ara  was 
trodden  already  into  a  road  as  broad  as  Berber  High 
Street,  and  almost  as  populous — now  a  white  under- 
clothed  Jaali  scallywag  with  a  Eemington  and  a 
donkey,  now  a  lolloping  convoy  of  camels,  now  a 
couple  of  Greeks  with  stores.  For  the  Jew,  as  we 
know  him,  is  a  child  for  commercial  enterprise  along- 
side the  Sudan  Greek.  A  Greek  had  his  ovens  going 
on  Ferkee  field  before  the  last  shot  was  fired ;  the 
moment  the  Suakim  road  was  opened  the  Greek's 
camels  were  on  it.  The  few  English  merchants  here 
were  hard  and  enterprising,  and  they  had  good  stuff — 
only  just  when  you  wanted  it,  it  was  usually  just  a 
day's  journey  away.  The  Greek  gets  his  stuff  up  every- 
where: it  is  often  inferior  stuff,  and  he  caravans  it 
with  a  double-barrelled  rifle  on  his  shoulder  and 
visions  of  Dervishes  behind  every  mimosa  bush ;  but 
he  gets  it  up.  He  charges  high  for  it,  but  he  deserves 
every  piastre  he  gets. 

At  Fort  Atbara  there  stood  already  a  small  bazaar 
of  tukls,  and  a  pink  shirt -sleeved,  black -stubble- 
chinned  Greek  in  each  among  his  wares.  There  we 
laid  in  every  known  liquor  except  claret  and  beer ; 
there  we  even  got  six  dozen  Pilsener-bottles  of  soda- 
water —  of  such  are  the  privations  of  the  Sudan. 
Most  of  the  Greeks  seemed  to  confine  their  energies 
to  sardines,  many  degrees  over  proof.  But  one  had 
planted  a  little  salad-garden ;  another  knew  where  he 
could  get  tomatoes;  a  third   specialised  in   scented 


THE   SUDAN   GREEK.  119 

soap  and  stationery.  Remember,  we  were  twelve 
hundred  miles  from  the  nearest  place  where  people 
buy  such  things  in  shops ;  remember,  too,  that  not 
an  inch  of  Government  truck  or  steamer  could  be 
spared  for  private  dealers ;  and  then  you  will  realise 
what  a  Nansen  of  retail  trade  is  the  Sudan  Greek. 

But  a  correspondent  cannot  live  by  soda-water  and 
tabasco  sauce  alone :  let  us  try  to  acquire  some  in- 
formation. In  the  commanderia  —  that  stable  house 
of  mud,  six-roomed  and  lofty  roofed,  the  stateliest 
mansion  of  the  Sudan — sits  Hickman  Bey,  who  swept 
out  Shendi.  In  the  English  army  it  would  be  almost 
a  scandal  that  an  officer  of  his  service  should  go  any- 
where or  do  anything.  The  Egyptian  army  is  an 
army  of  young  men,  with  the  red-hot  dash  of  a  boy 
tempered  by  responsibility  into  the  fine  steel  of  a 
man  at  his  best  for  both  plan  and  deed. 

But  about  the  raid.  To  listen  to  any  one  of  the 
men  who  conducted  it  you  would  think  that  he  had 
been  a  passenger,  and  that  all  the  others  had  done  all 
the  work:  that  is  their  way.  The  three  gunboats 
with  their  naval  officers — now  you  observe  the  full 
significance  of  the  fact  that  the  British  Navy's  com- 
mand of  the  sea  runs  up  to  the  Sixth  Cataract — with 
the  15th  Battalion,  guns,  and  150  friendly  Jaalin, 
left  Fort  Atbara  on  March  24.  They  were  to  have 
surprised  Shendi  in  the  morning  of  the  26th ;  but 
luck  was  bad,  though  it  turned  out  not  to  matter 
much.     One  of  the  boats  went  aground,  as  boats  will 


120  THE   RAID   ON   SHENDL 

on  a  daily  falling  Nile.     It  took  some  hours  to  get 
her  off,  and  then,  as  it    was   too  late  for  Saturday 
morning,   and  an  afternoon  attack   would   leave   no 
light  for  pursuit,  it  was  decided  to  make  it  Sunday. 
So  the  boats  went  slow,  stopping  here  and  there  to 
wood  up  on  the  depeopled  banks ;  but  at  one  place  it 
fell  out  that  the  landing-party  came  on  three  Dervishes. 
One  of  them  got  away  with  his  skin  and  the  alarm. 
When  he  came  to  Shendi  the  garrison — 700  men  with 
many   women   and   children  —  were   tom-tomming   a 
fantasia   on   account   of   an  alleged  victory   whereof 
Mahnmd  had  advertised  them.     The  fantasia  broke 
up  hurriedly,  and  all  the  best  quality  women  were 
sent  away  on  camels  to  Omdurman.     That  meant,  of 
course,  the  Baggara  Arab   women.     The   women   of 
the  black  riflemen  and  spearmen  were  left  to  shift. 
At  ten  on  Sunday  morning  Colonel  Hickman  and 
his  raiders  duly  appeared  and  landed.      They  found 
the  enemy  drawn  up  between  the  bank  and   rising 
ground  ;  there  were  four  forts — one  sunken,  three  cir- 
cular earth  walls — but  Mahmud  took  away  the  guns 
with  him.     The  Fifteenth  formed  column  of  fours  and 
marched  placidly  in  front  of  the  enemy,  taking  not  the 
least  notice  of  their  fire — which  indeed  hurt  nobody — 
till  it  outflanked  their  left.     The  two  forces  were  then 
more  or  less  like  a  couple  of  L's  lying  on  their  backs, 
one  inside  the  other.     The  dervish  L  was  the  inside 
one — the  stem  of  it  fighting  men  and  the  foot  scally- 


THE  JAALIN'S  CHANCE.  121 

wags  carrying  bundles;  the  Egyptian  L's  stem  was 
the  Fifteenth,  and  its  foot,  stretching  inland  towards 
the  loot,  the  Jaalin. 

Bimbashi  Peake,  of  the  Artillery,  let  off  two  rounds 
of  shrapnel  over  the  scallywags,  and  the  fight  was 
over.  Instantly  the  plain  was  quite  black  with  the 
baggage  the  dervishes  dropped  —  bundles  of  clothes, 
angarebs,  chairs,  big  war-drums,  helmets,  spears,  gib- 
bas,  bags  of  dhurra,  donkeys,  horses,  women,  children. 
Every  dervish  was  making  for  Omdurman  as  hard  as 
his  legs  would  let  him. 

Now  came  the  Jaalin's  chance.  The  Jaalin  used  to 
be  a  flourishing  tribe,  and  inhabited  the  island  of 
Meroe — the  country  between  the  Atbara  and  the  Blue 
Nile.  A  few  years  ago  the  tribe  had  a  difference  of 
opinion  with  the  Khalifa  :  there  are  not  many  Jaalin 
now,  and  what  there  are  inhabit  where  they  can. 
The  survivors  are  anxious  to  redress  the  balance  by 
removing  a  corresponding  proportion  of  Baggara,  and 
they  began.  After  a  time  they  came  to  Hickman 
Bey,  panting,  but  only  half  happy.  "  It  is  very  good, 
0  thou  Excellency,"  they  cried ;  "  we're  killing  them 
splendidly.  They're  all  out  in  the  desert,  only  we 
can't  get  at  them  to  kill  them  enough.  Can't  we  have 
some  of  the  donkeys  to  pursue  on  ? "  "  Take  the  lot," 
said  his  Excellency. 

So  the  island  of  Meroe  beheld  the  novel  sight  of 
Baggara  cavalry,  on  brood  mares  with  foals  at  foot, 


122  THE  RAID   ON   SHENDL 

fleeing  for  their  lives  before  Jaalin  on  donkeys.  Most 
of  the  five-and-twenty  horsemen  got  away  to  tell  the 
news  to  the  Khalifa ;  by  this  time  probably  their 
right  hands  and  right  feet  were  off.  The  footmen  the 
Jaalin  pursued  till  ten  at  night,  and  slew  to  the  tune 
of  160  ;  also  there  were  645  prisoners,  mostly  women. 
They  got  a  tremendous  reception  from  the  women  at 
Fort  Atbara  when  they  reached  it,  and  joined  in  it 
themselves  quite  unaffectedly.  By  now  they  are  pro- 
bably the  wives  of  such  black  soldiers  as  are  allowed 
to  marry ;  as  like  as  not  many  of  them  actually  had 
husbands,  brothers,  sons,  fathers  in  one  Sudanese  bat- 
talion or  another.  A  Sudan  lady's  married  life  is  full 
of  incident  in  these  days  ;  it  might  move  the  envy  of 
Fargo,  North  Dakota.  But  when  all  is  said  and  done, 
a  black  soldier  with  a  life  engagement  at  15s.  a-month 
minimum,  with  rations  and  allowances,  is  a  more 
brilliant  catch  than  any  Baggara  that  ever  came  out 
of  Darfur. 

It  was  a  raid  that  for  neatness  and  thoroughness 
might  teach  a  lesson  to  Osman  Digna  himself.  What 
Osman  and  Mahmud  said  when  they  heard  their  men's 
women  were  gone,  and  that  their  own  retreat  along 
the  Nile  could  be  harried  for  a  hundred  miles  as  far 
as  Shabluka,  I  do  not  pretend  to  know.  I  should  be 
sorry  to  meet  any  of  the  ends  they  must  have  invoked 
upon  all  the  Sirdar's  relatives. 

And  when  we  got  back,  and  the  camels  seesawed 


THE  COOKS   GEIEVANCE.  123 

in  with  the  sanduhs,  the  cook,  for  all  his  new  wealth, 
was  very  angry.  "  You  have  brought  no  curry- 
powder,  0  thou  Effendim,"  he  said.  "  You  didn't  say 
you  wanted  any  curry-powder,"  the  Mess-President  de- 
fended himself.  "  Yes  I  did,"  said  the  cook,  sternly ; 
"  I  said  we  were  short  of  all  vegetables." 


124 


XV. 


REST   AND    RECONNAISSANCES. 

TnE  force  remained  in  camp  at  Kas  el  Hudi  till  April 
3.  Mahmud's  exact  position  was  still  undetermined, 
his  intentions  yet  more  so.  It  was  a  queer  state  of 
things — two  armies  within  twenty  miles  of  each  other, 
both  presumably  wishful  to  fight,  both  liable  to  run 
short  of  provisions,  yet  neither  attacking  and  neither 
quite  sure  where  the  other  was.  But  the  Sirdar  had 
always  the  winning  hand.  While  he  sat  on  the  At- 
bara  Mahmud  was  stale-mated.  It  may  be  supposed 
that  he  came  down  the  Nile  to  fight :  very  well,  here 
was  the  Sirdar  ready  to  fight  and  beat  him.  Osman 
Di;4iia  probably  had  raiding  in  his  head.  But  he  could 
not  raid  Berber  while  the  Sirdar  was  below  him  on 
the  Atbara  :  that  would  have  infant  seventy  miles 
across  the  desert,  with  wells  choked  up — though  he 
may  not  have  known  this — and  the  Sirdar  always 
liable  to  attack  him  on  flank  or  to  get  to  Berber  before 
him.  One  day  we  had  a  report  that  he  had  started  on 
a  journey  the  other  way,  towards  Adarama ;  but,  if  he 


MAHMUD   STALE-MATED.  125 

ever  went  at  all,  it  was  probably  to  dig  up  grain: 
there  was  nothing  worth  raiding  about  Adarama. 
Finally,  now  that  Shendi  was  destroyed,  to  go  back 
meant  ruin ;  the  blacks,  irritated  by  the  loss  of  their 
women,  would  desert ;  the  gunboats  would  harry  the 
retreat  as  far  as  Shabluka ;  it  was  even  possible  that 
the  whole  Anglo-Egyptian  force  would  get  to  the  Nile 
before  they  did.  And  if  he  stayed  where  he  was,  then 
in  the  end  he  must  either  fight  or  starve. 

Mahmud  was  stale-mated,  no  doubt,  whatever  course 
he  took ;  only  in  the  meantime  he  took  none.  He  did 
not  move,  he  did  not  fight,  and  he  did  not  starve. 
And  we  were  still  not  quite  sure  where  he  was.  The 
army  stayed  a  fortnight  in  Eas  Hudi  camp,  recon- 
noitring daily,  with  an  enemy  within  twenty  miles, 
whose  precise  position  it  did  not  know.  It  hardly 
seems  to  speak  well  for  the  cavalry.  Yet  it  would  be 
most  unjust  to  blame  them:  the  truth  is  that  the 
Egyptian  cavalry  was  hopelessly  outnumbered  and 
outmatched.  Broadwood  Bey  had  eight  squadrons — 
say  800  lances  —  with  eight  Maxims  and  one  horse 
battery.  There  were  also  two  companies  of  camel- 
corps,  but  these  were  generally  wanted  for  convoys. 
Against  this  Mahmud,  as  he  said  afterwards  himself, 
had  4000  Baggara  horse. 

Furthermore,  it  cannot  be  said  that  the  Egyptian 
cavalry  were  above  criticism.  They  were  enormously 
improved,  as  will  shortly  be  seen :  ever  since  the  Don- 
gola  campaign   they  had  come  on  greatly,  but  it  is 


126  REST  AND   RECONNAISSANCES. 

doubtful  whether  they  will  ever  have  the  dash  of  the 
best  European  or  Indian  cavalry.  They  have  great 
merits:  in  an  empty  land  they  will  live  on  almost 
nothing,  and  no  stretch  of  work  can  subdue  their  iron 
bodies  to  fatigue.  They  are  no  longer  open  to  sus- 
picion on  the  score  of  courage.  But  in  reconnaissance 
work  they  want  smartness  and  intelligence.  It  could 
not  be  imputed  to  them  as  a  fault  that  they  did  not 
ride  through  five  times  their  force  and  see  what  was 
behind.  But  it  was  a  fact  that  the  Baggara  worked 
better  in  the  bush  than  they  did.  Day  after  day  they 
would  ride  out  and  see  nobody  or  only  a  vedette  or 
two ;  as  soon  as  they  began  to  retire  they  were  fol- 
lowed by  dervishes,  who  had  apparently  been  seeing 
them  all  the  time.  An  officer  told  me  that  one  day, 
walking  out  from  Fort  Atbara,  he  saw  a  returning 
patrol  under  a  native  lieutenant.  He  stood  still  under 
a  tree  to  see  if  they  would  see  him :  they  passed  him 
by  like  men  asleep.  In  a  word,  the  Egyptian  trooper 
is  what  it  is  inevitable  he  should  be.  You  cannot 
breed  a  light  quick-witted  scout  out  of  a  hundred 
centuries  of  drudgery  and  serfdom.  He  will  improve 
with  time ;  meanwhile  he  is  still  a  fellah 

Considering  the  quantity  and  quality  of  their 
material,  it  was  wonderful  that  Broadwood  Bey 
and  his  British  officers  did  as  much  as  they  did. 
To  work  the  weakest  arm  of  a  force  cannot  be  in- 
spiriting work,  but  they  stuck  to  it  with  unquench- 
able courage   and  inexhaustible   patience.      If  it  be 


GENERAL  HUNTER   FINDS  THE  ENEMY.  127 

asked  why  the  cavalry  was  not  strengthened  with 
British  or  Indian  regiments,  the  answer  is  very  easy. 
It  was  almost  a  miracle  that  so  large  a  force  had  been 
got  up  to  the  Atbara  and  fed  there ;  to  bring  up  more 
horses  into  a  country  almost  naked  of  fodder  was  a 
physical  impossibility,  too  impossible  even  for  Sir 
Herbert  Kitchener. 

But  if  the  cavalry  was  for  a  while  unsuccessful  in 
localising  Mahmud's  entrenchment,  it  was  wholly  suc- 
cessful in  keeping  his  scouts  from  coming  near  us,  and 
that  was  no  small  achievement.  The  Baggara  might 
have  made  things  very  unpleasant  for  us  even  at  Has 
el  Hudi.  But  for  the  patrols  of  the  unwearying 
cavalry  they  could  easily  have  crept  up  in  the  bush 
across  the  river  and  fired  into  camp  all  night  every 
night.  They  might  have  got  below  the  camp  and  cut 
up  convoy  after  convoy  till  hunger  drove  (he  Sirdar 
down  to  Fort  Atbara  again  and  opened  the  way  to 
Berber.  We  sat  day  after  day  and  wondered  why 
they  never  did  it;  but  they  never  did. 

At  last,  on  March  30,  General  Hunter  went  out. 
"With  him  went  the  cavalry,  the  horse-battery,  and 
four  Maxims,  while  two  battalions  of  infantry  and 
a  field  battery  were  advanced  in  support  to  Khor 
Abadar.  When  he  got  back  that  evening  everybody 
knew  that  Mahmud's  stronghold  was  found.  He  had 
gone  on  until  he  came  to  it.  He  had  ridden  up  to 
within  300  yards  of  it  and  looked  in.  What  he  saw, 
of  course,  the  Intelligence  Department  knew  better 


128  REST  AND  RECONNAISSANCES. 

than  I  did,  but  some  things  were  common  property. 
The  position  faced  the  open  desert — we  all  breathed 
freely  at  this — and  went  right  back,  through  the  scrub 
to  the  river.  Round  it  ran  a  tremendous  zariba  three 
miles  long,  and  in  the  centre,  on  an  eminence,  were 
trenches  affording  three  tiers  of  fire.  This  proved  to 
be  an  exaggeration  as  regarded  size,  and  a  misunder- 
standing otherwise  :  the  triple  trench  ran  nearly  round 
the  position.  What  was  certain  and  to  the  point  was 
that  the  place  was  trimmed  with  black  heads,  but 
that  their  owners  seemed  reluctant  to  come  out.  The 
horse-battery  gave  them  a  score  of  rounds  or  so,  but 
they  made  no  answer,  and  in  their  thick  bush  any 
casualties  they  may  have  had  were  safely  concealed. 

However,  here  at  last  was  Mahmud  marked  down. 
To  be  precise,  he  was  at  Nakheila,  eighteen  miles  away, 
as  the  cavalry  and  Staff'  said,  though,  when  the  in- 
fantry came  to  foot  it,  they  made  it  well  over  twenty : 
every  infantry  man  knows  how  cavalry  and  Staff  will 
underrate  distances.  Wherever  he  was,  we  knew  the 
way  to  him,  and  we  could  take  our  time.  Now  what 
would  the  Sirdar  do  ? 

For  the  next  two  days  the  camp  buzzed  with 
strategy  and  tactics.  It  was  no  longer  what  Mahmud 
would  do:  Mahmud,  as  we  have  seen,  could  do  noth- 
ing. But  would  the  Sirdar  wait  for  him  to  starve  into 
attack  or  dispersal,  or  would  he  go  for  Nakheila  ? 
Many  people  thought  that,  being  a  careful  man,  he 
would  wait  and  not  risk  the  loss  an  attack  would 


REASONS  FOR   THE  ATTACK.  129 

cost ;  but  they  were  wrong.  On  the  evening  of  April 
1  it  became  known  that  we  were  moving  on  the 
morning  of  the  3rd  four  miles  forward  to  Abadar. 
Some  theorists  still  held  out  that  the  change  of  camp 
was  a  mere  matter  of  health ;  and  indeed  sanitation 
had  long  cried  for  it.  Others  held  that  the  Sirdar  was 
not  the  man  to  lengthen  his  line  of  communication 
for  nothing:  the  move  meant  attack. 

What  considerations  resolved  the  Sirdar  to  storm 
Mahmud's  zariba,  I  do  not  pretend  to  know.  But 
many  arguments  for  his  decision  suggested  themselves 
at  once.  It  was  true  that  the  Dervishes  could  not 
stay  at  Nakheila  for  ever,  but  as  yet  there  was  no  sign 
of  starvation  from  them.  On  the  other  hand,  it  was  no 
joke  to  supply  12,000  men  even  seventeen  miles  from 
Fort  Atbara  by  camel-transport  alone:  as  time  wore 
on  and  camels  wore  out,  it  became  less  and  less  easy. 
Secondly,  the  white  brigade  was  beginning  to  feel  the 
heat,  the  inadequate  shelter,  and  the  poor  food  :  up  to 
now  its  state  of  health  had  been  wonderful  —  only 
two  per  cent  of  sick  or  thereabouts — but  now  began  to 
appear  dysentery  and  enteric.  Finally,  it  was  hardly 
fitting  that  so  large  a  British  force  should  sit  down 
within  twenty  miles  of  an  enemy  and  not  smash  him. 
There  was  a  good  deal  of  lurking  sympathy  with 
Mahdism  in  some  Egyptian  quarters  far  enough  away 
not  to  know  what  Mahdism  was :  to  shrink  from  a 
decisive  attack  would  nourish  it.  The  effect  on  the 
troops  themselves  would  be  disheartening,  and  dis- 


130  REST   AND   RECONNAISSANCES. 

heartenment  spells  lassitude  and  sickness.  And  to 
the  Dervishes  themselves  a  battle  would  be  a  far 
more  killing  blow  than  a  dispersal  and  retreat.  In 
all  dealings  with  a  savage  enemy,  I  suppose  the 
rule  holds  that  it  is  better  and  cheaper  in  the  end 
to  attack,  and  attack,  and  attack  again.  All  con- 
siderations of  military  reputation  pleaded  unanimously 
that  Mahmud  must  be  destroyed  in  battle;  and  at 
Inst  the  army  was  on  the  direct  road  to  destroy 
him. 


131 


XVL 

CAMEL-CORPS  AND  CAVALRY. 

"Camel  corps  luck,"  said  the  Bimbashi,  and  smiled 
bitterly,  then  swore.  "  0  my  God,  if  this  is  the  big 
show!" 

Climbing  up  over  sand -bags  on  to  one  of  the 
gun -platforms  of  Fort  Atbara,  we  crouched  in  the 
embrasure  and  listened.  Boom — boom — boom  ;  very 
faint,  but  very  distinct,  and  at  half-minute  intervals. 
We  had  ridden  in  the  day  before  from  the  Sirdar's 
camp  up  the  Atbara  to  buy  more  bottled  fruit  and, 
alas!  more  gin  from  the  Greek  shanties  on  the  Nile 
beach.  A  convoy,  on  a  similar  errand,  had  been 
attacked  by  Dervishes  half  an  hour  after  we  had 
passed  it,  yet  we  heard  not  a  shot.  To-day,  all  this 
way  off,  we  heard  plainly :  it  must  be  an  action  indeed. 
Our  own  army,  we  knew,  was  not  to  move.  Could  it 
be  that  Mahmud  had  come  down  and  was  attacking 
us  at  Abadar  ?  And  we  eighteen  miles  away  at  Fort 
Atbara,  and  down  there  in  the  sand-drift  roadway  the 
wobbling,  grousing  camels,  that  were  to  be  conveyed 


132  CAMEL-CORPS   AND   CAVALRY. 

out  at  two  miles  an  hour !  "We  joined  the  Bimbashi, 
and  cursed  miserably  on  the  chance  of  it. 

But  no,  we  struggled  to  persuade  ourselves,  it 
couldn't  be  so  bad  as  that.  It  must  be  a  battalion 
come  out  to  clear  the  road  for  our  convoy.  Or  it 
must  be  the  reconnaissance  that  was  going  up  to  the 
dervish  zariba  at  Nakheila.  Correspondents  are  not 
allowed  to  go  with  reconnaissances,  so  that  if  it  is 
only  that,  there's  no  great  loss  after  all.  Anyhow  it 
is  eleven  o'clock  now.  The  baggage  camels  have 
lolloped  out  under  the  mud  guard-house,  through  the 
fort -gate,  through  the  gap  in  the  mimosa -thorn 
zariba.  The  camel-corps  escort  is  closing  up  in  rear : 
we  are  off. 

Half  a  mile  ahead  ride  five  blacks,  their  camels 
keeping  perfect  line.  The  sun  flashes  angrily  on  their 
rifle-barrels,  but  they  look  him  steadily  in  the  face, 
peering  with  puckered  eyes  over  the  desert  below 
them:  in  this  land  of  dust  and  low  scrub  a  camel's 
hump  is  almost  a  war  balloon.  Far  out  on  their  right 
I  see  a  warily  advancing  dot,  which  is  four  more ;  a 
black  dot  on  the  rising  leftward  skyline,  three  more ; 
out  on  the  right  flank  of  the  baggage  camels,  shaving 
the  riverside  thickets,  gleam  white  spider  legs,  which 
are  a  couple  of  camel-troopers  more.  Tliey  stop  and 
examine  a  track  ;  they  break  into  a  trot  and  disappear 
behind  a  palm  clump ;  they  reappear  walking.  But 
the  main  force  of  the  two  companies  rides  close  about 
the  swinging  quadrangle  of  baggage  camels — in  front, 


CAMEL-CORPS   LUCK.  133 

on  flank,  in  rear.  Slowly  and  sleepily  the  mass  of 
beasts  strolls  on  into  the  desert,  careless  what  horsemen 
might  be  wheeling  into  line  behind  the  ridge,  or  what 
riflemen  might  be  ambushed  in  the  scrub.  But  the 
scouts  in  front  are  looking  at  every  footprint,  over 
every  skyline,  behind  every  clump  of  camel-thorn. 

To  be  out  of  an  exciting  action  is  camel-corps  luck  ; 
this  is  camel-corps  work.  The  Bimbashi  missed  his 
part  in  the  reconnaissance  to  ride  all  night  and  guard 
the  menaced  convoy ;  he  slept  one  hour  at  dawn,  and 
now  returns  in  the  sun.  He  is  quite  fresh  and  active. 
This  is  his  usual  work ;  but  he  is  not  happy  because 
this  also  is  his  usual  luck.  Only  the  Egyptian  army 
would  have  found  it  very  difficult  to  do  without  him 
and  his  desert  cavalry  in  the  past,  and  even  now,  with 
all  the  desert  roads  except  the  Bayuda  behind  it, 
finds  plenty  of  work  for  the  camel-corps  still.  And 
one  day  they  say,  "Take  out  twenty  camels,"  and 
the  next  day,  "Take  out  the  rest."  The  next  day, 
"Those  twenty  that  weren't  out  yesterday  can't 
possibly  be  tired  " — but  the  Bimbashi  goes  out  every 
day.  The  skin  is  scaled  off  his  nose  with  sun,  and 
his  eyes  are  bloodshot  with  sand,  and  the  hairs  of  his 
moustache  have  snapped  off  short  with  drought,  and 
his  hair  is  bleaching  to  white.  All  that  is  the  hall- 
mark of  the  Sudan. 

Getting  into  the  saddle  had  been  like  sitting  down 
suddenly  in  a  too  hot  bath ;  by  this  time  you  could 
not   bear  your    hand   upon   it.     Out   in   the    desert 


134  CAMEL-CORPS  AND   CAVALRY. 

gleamed  the  steel-blue  water  and  black  reflected  trees 
of  the  mirage;  even  in  mirage  there  is  no  green  in 
the  midday  sun  of  the  Sudan.  What  should  be  green 
is  black;  all  else  is  sun-coloured.  It  is  torment  to 
face  the  gaudy  glare  that  stabs  your  eyes.  If  you 
lift  them  to  the  sky  it  is  not  very  blue — I  have  seen 
far  deeper  in  England;  but  it  is  alive  all  over  with 
quivering  passionate  heat.  Beating  from  above  and 
burning  from  below,  the  sun  strikes  at  you  heavily. 
There  is  no  way  out  of  it  except  through  the  hours 
into  evening.  No  sound  but  boot  clinking  on  camel- 
stirrup  :  you  hear  it  through  a  haze.  You  ride  along 
at  a  walk,  half  dead.  You  neither  feel  nor  think,  you 
hardly  even  know  that  it  is  hot.  You  just  have 
consciousness  of  a  heavy  load  hardly  to  be  borne, 
pressing,  pressing  down  on  you,  crushing  you  under 
the  dead  weight  of  sun. 

We  met  the  usual  people  —  a  Greek  with  four 
camels,  a  bare  -  legged  boy  on  a  donkey,  a  bare- 
breasted  woman  under  a  bundle  —  the  second  and 
third-class  passengers  of  the  desert.  We  questioned 
them  with  alternate  triumph  and  despair,  as  they 
answered  alternately  after  their  kind.  One  said  it 
was  two  squadrons,  a  battery,  and  a  battalion  fighting 
in  our  old  camp  at  Eas  Hudi ;  another  said  Mahmud 
had  come  down  to  Abadar  and  had  fought  the  Sirdar 
for  four  hours ;  another  said  Mahmud  had  gone  right 
away,  and  that  the  whole  Anglo-Egyptian  army  had 
gone  after  him.     Every  story  was  wholly  false,  be- 


THE   SCENE   OF  A   DERVISH   RAID.  135 

gotten  only  of  a  wish  to  please ;  whence  you  perceive 
the  advantages  enjoyed  by  him  who  would  collect 
intelligence  in  the  Sudan. 

Slowly  the  minutes  crawled  on  ;  the  camels  crawled 
slower.  On  days  like  this  yon  feel  yourself  growino 
older:  it  seemed  months  since  we  heard  the  "urn 
from  the  parapet;  it  would  have  hardly  seemec 
wonderful  if  we  had  heard  that  the  campaign  had 
been  finished  while  we  were  away.  We  had  ridden 
awhile  with  the  Bimbashi,  but  conversation  wilted  in 
the  sun  ;  now  we  had  ambled  ahead  till  even  the 
advanced  guard  had  dropped  out  of  sight  behind. 
One  servant  with  us  rode  a  tall  fast  camel ;  from  that 
watch-tower  he  suddenly  discerned  cases  lying  open 
on  the  sand  about  a  hundred  yards  off  the  trampled 
road.  Anything  for  an  incident:  we  rode  listlessly 
up  and  looked.  A  couple  of  broken  packing-cases, 
two  tins  of  sardines,  a  tin  of  biscuits,  half  empty,  a 
small  case  of  empty  soda-bottles  with  "  Sirdar  "  sten- 
cilled on  it,  and  a  couple  of  empty  bottles  of  whisky. 
Among  them  lay  a  cigarette-box  with  a  needle  and  a 
reel  of  cotton,  a  few  buttons,  and  a  badge— A.S.C. — 
such  as  the  Army  Service  Corps  wear  on  their 
shoulder-straps. 

We  were  on  the  scene  of  last  evening's  raid.  Two 
camels,  we  remembered,  had  been  cut  oh'  and  the  loads 
lost.  We  found  the  marks  on  the  sand  where  the  con- 
voy-camels had  knelt  down  in  living  zariba  to  wait 
for  relief  from  Abadar,  seven  miles  away.     All  the 


136  CAMEL-CORPS  AND   CAVALRY. 

time  it  took  to  fetch  the  camel-corps  the  Dervishes 
must  have  lurked  in  the  bush  eating  biscuits  and 
drinking  the  whisky  of  the  infidel.  The  Sirdar's 
soda-water  was  plainly  returned  empties,  so  that  they 
would  have  found  the  whisky  strong;  the  sardines, 
not  knowing  the  nature  of  tinned  meats,  they  had 
thrown  away.     We  waited  to  report  to  the  Bimbashi 

Presently  the  convoy  crept  up,  a  confusion  of  vague 
necks  and  serpent  heads,  waving  like  tentacles.  The 
Bimbashi  had  given  his  horse  to  an  orderly,  and  was 
sleeping  peacefully  on  his  camel.  Now  we  had  found 
among  the  scattered  camel-loads  a  wineglass,  broken 
in  the  stem,  but  providentially  intact  in  the  bowl. 
Also  we  had  bought  for  a  great  price  at  Fort  Atbara 
four  eggs,  and  had  whisky  wherein  to  break  them. 
So  the  Bimbashi  slipped  off  his  camel  all  in  one  piece, 
and  we  lunched. 

By  now  the  damned  sun  was  taking  his  hand  off 
us.  We  were  slipping  through  his  fingers;  he  was 
low  down  behind  us,  and  his  rays  sprawled  into 
larger  and  longer  shadows.  Then  he  went  down  in 
a  last  sullen  fusion  of  gold.  The  camels,  feeling  them- 
selves checked,  flopped  down  where  they  stood;  the 
drivers  flopped  down  beside  them,  and  bobbed  their 
heads  in  the  approximate  direction  of  Mecca.  They 
might  well  give  thanks ;  with  sunset  the  world  had 
come  to  life  again.  A  slight  air  sprang  up,  and  a 
gallop  fanned  it  to  a  grateful  breeze.  Soon  the 
eastern  sky  became  a  pillar  of  dust;    the  horses  in 


A   CAVALRY  FIGHT.  137 

camp  were  being  led  to  water.  The  great  fight  was 
still  timed  for  the  day  after  to-morrow,  and  another 
twelve  hours  of  simlessness  were  before  us. 

The  camp  was  just  as  we  had  left  it,  all  but  for 
one  piece  of  news :  the  cavalry  had  had  a  fight,  and 
had  fought  well  against  every  arm  of  the  enemy.  It 
was  their  guns,  not  our  own,  we  had  heard  nearly  forty 
miles  away  at  Fort  Atbara.  General  Hunter  was  in 
command  of  the  reconnaissance,  and  when  General 
Hunter  goes  out  to  look  at  the  enemy  you  may  be 
sure  he  will  look  at  him  if  he  has  to  jump  over  his 
zariba  to  do  it.  Leaving  the  supporting  battalion  of 
infantry  behind,  the  eight  squadrons  of  cavalry  with 
eight  Maxims  rode  to  the  front  of  Mahmud's  entrench- 
ment. Last  time  he  had  made  no  sign  of  life.  This 
time  the  first  appearance  brought  out  700  cavalry. 
These  were  pushed  back,  but  next  came  infantry, 
swarming  like  ants  out  of  the  zariba  till  the  desert 
was  black  with  them.  They  were  estimated  at  some 
1500 ;  they  opened  fire,  not  effectively.  Then  came 
a  bang  to  the  rearward :  he  was  firing  his  guns.  And 
on  each  flank,  meanwhile,  emerged  from  the  bush  be- 
side the  entrenchment  his  encircling  cavalry  to  cut 
ours  off. 

"  It  was  Maiwand  over  again,  only  properly  clone," 
said  one  of  the  men  who  saw  it.  The  Maxims  opened 
fire  on  both  cavalry  and  infantry,  knocking  many  over, 
though  the  Dervishes  were  always  in  open  order.  And 
when  it  was  time  to  go  the  Baggara  horsemen  were 


138  CAMEL- CORPS  AND   CAVALEY. 

by  this  time  across  our  true  line  of  retirement.  Broad- 
wood  Bey  ordered  his  troopers  to  charge.  Behind  his 
English  leaders — the  Bey  himself,  who  always  leads 
every  attack,  and  Bimbashis  le  Gallais  and  Persse — 
the  despised  unwarlike  fellah  charged  and  charged 
home,  and  the  Baggara  lord  of  the  Sudan  split  before 
him.  Binibashi  Persse  was  wounded  in  the  left  fore- 
arm by  a  bullet  tired  from  horseback;  six  troopers 
were  killed  and  ten  wounded.  The  loss  of  the  Der- 
vishes by  lance,  and  especially  by  Maxim  bullet, 
was  reckoned  at  near  200. 

Our  seventeen  casualties  were  a  light  price  to  pay 
for  such  a  brilliant  little  fight,  to  say  nothing  of  the 
iiiiunnation  gained,  and  above  all,  the  vindication  of 
the  Egyptian  trooper.  That  the  fellah  was  fearless  of 
bullet  and  shell  all  knew;  now  he  had  shown  his  in- 
difference to  cold  steel  also.  The  cavalry  mess  was  a 
hum  of  cheerfulness  that  night,  and  well  it  might  be. 
The  officers  were  all  talking  at  once  for  joy:  the 
troopers  riding  their  horses  down  to  the  pool  moved 
with  a  swing  that  was  not  there  before.  For  the 
dogged,  up-hill,  back-breaking,  heart-breaking  work 
of  tifteen  years  had  come  to  bear  fruit. 

And  cheerfulness  spread  to  the  whole  army  also: 
next  morning — the  5th — we  were  off  again,  this  time 
to  Umdabieh,  seven  miles  across  the  desert.  The  bush 
at  Abadar  was  almost  jungle  —  full  of  green  sappy 
plants  and  creepers,  a  refreshment  to  camels,  but  a 
prospective  hotbed  of  fever  for  men.    Everybody  was 


UMDABIEH.  139 

getting  very  sick  of  the  Atbara,  which  had  been  such 
a  paradise  of  green  when  we  first  camped  on  it.  We 
missed  the  ever-blowing  breeze  of  the  Nile:  the  night 
was  a  breathless  oven  and  the  day  a  sweaty  stewpan. 
The  Atbara  seemed  even  getting  sick  of  itself :  day  by 
day  it  dropped  till  now  it  was  no  river  at  all,  but  a 
string  of  shallow  befouled  pools.  All  longed  for  the 
fatherly  Nile  again. 

So  once  more  the  squares  marched  forth  before  day- 
light, and  black  dusk  lowered  under  the  rising  sun. 
Umdabieh  was  a  novelty  for  an  Atbara  camp,  in  that  a 
few  mud  huts  marked  the  place  whence  the  Dervishes 
had  blotted  out  a  village.  The  river  was  punier  than 
ever  and  the  belt  of  bush  thin  ;  lucky  was  the  man 
whose  quarters  included  a  six-foot  dom-palin  to  lay  his 
head  under.  I  spent  both  afternoons  at  Umdabieh 
chasing  a  patch  of  shadow  round  and  round  a  tree. 
We  did  nothing  on  the  6th,  for  on  the  evening  of  the 
7th  we  were  to  march,  and  to  fight  on  Good  Friday. 


140 


XVII. 

THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  ATBAEA. 

As  the  first  rays  of  sunrise  glinted  on  the  desert 
pebbles,  the  army  rose  up  and  saw  that  it  was  in 
front  of  the  enemy.  All  night  it  had  moved  blindly, 
in  faith.  At  six  in  the  evening  the  four  brigades 
were  black  squares  on  the  rising  desert  outside  the 
bushes  of  Umdabieh  camp,  and  they  set  out  to  march. 
Hard  gravel  underfoot,  full  moon  overhead,  about  them 
a  coy  horizon  that  seemed  immeasurable  yet  revealed 
nothing,  the  squares  tramped  steadily  for  an  hour. 
Then  all  lay  down,  so  that  the  other  brigades  were 
swallowed  up  into  the  desert,  and  the  faces  of  the 
British  square  were  no  more  than  shadows  in  the 
white  moonbeams.  The  square  was  unlocked,  and 
first  the  horses  were  taken  down  to  water,  then  the 
men  by  half-battalions.  We  who  had  water  ate  some 
bully-beef  and  biscuit,  put  our  heads  on  saddle-bags, 
rolled  our  bodies  in  blankets,  and  slept  a  little. 

The  next  tiling  was  a  long  rustle  about  us,  stealing 
in  upon  us,  urgently  whispering  us  to  rise  and  mount 


THE  WAR-MACHINE  MOVES   FORWARD.  141 

and  move.  The  moon  had  passed  overhead.  It  was 
one  o'clock.  The  square  rustled  into  life  and  motion, 
bent  forward,  and  started,  half  asleep.  No  man  spoke, 
and  no  light  showed,  but  the  sand-muffled  trampling 
and  the  moon-veiled  figures  forbade  the  fancy  that  it 
was  all  a  dream.  The  shapes  of  lines  of  men — now 
close,  now  broken,  and  closing  up  again  as  the  ground 
broke  or  the  direction  changed — the  mounted  officers, 
and  the  hushed  order,  "  Left  shoulder  forward,"  the 
scrambling  Maxim  mules,  the  lines  of  swaying  camels, 
their  pungent  smell,  and  the  rare  neigh  of  a  horse, 
the  other  three  squares  like  it,  which  we  knew  of 
but  could  not  see, — it  was  just  the  same  war-machine 
as  we  had  seen  all  these  days  on  parade.  Only  this 
time  it  was  in  deadly  earnest,  moving  stealthily  but 
massively  forward  towards  an  event  that  none  of  us 
could  quite  certainly  foretell. 

"We  marched  till  something  after  four,  then  halted, 
and  the  men  lay  down  again  and  slept.  The  rest 
walked  up  and  down  in  the  gnawing  cold,  talking  to 
one  and  another,  wondering  in  half-voices  were  we 
there,  would  they  give  us  a  fight  or  should  we  find 
their  lines  empty,  how  would  the  fight  be  fought,  and, 
above  all,  how  were  we  to  get  over  their  zariba.  For 
Mahmud's  zariba  was  pictured  very  high,  and  very 
thick,  and  very  prickly,  which  sounded  awkward  for 
the  Cameron  Highlanders,  who  were  to  assault  it. 
Somebody  had  proposed  burning  it,  either  with  war- 
rockets  or  paraffin  and  safety  matches ;  somebody  else 


H2         THE  BATTLE  OK  THE  ATBARA. 

suggested  throwing  blankets  over  it,  though  how  you 
throw  blankets  over  a  ten  by  twenty  feet  hedge  of 
camel-thorn,  and  what  you  do  next  when  you  have 
thrown  them,  the  inventor  of  the  plan  never  ex- 
plained. Others  favoured  scaling-ladders,  apparently 
to  take  headers  off'  on  to  the  thorns  and  the  enemy's 
spears,  and  even  went  so  far  as  to  make  a  few  ;  most 
were  for  the  simpler  plan  of  just  taking  hold  of  it  and 
pulling  it  apart.  But  how  many  of  the'  men  who 
pulled  would  ever  get  through  the  gap  ? 

Now  the  sun  rose  behind  us,  and  the  men  rose,  too, 
and  we  had  arrived.  Bimbashi  Fitton  had  led  the 
four  brigades  in  the  half-light  to  within  200  yards  of 
the  exact  positions  they  were  to  take  in  the  action. 
Now,  too,  we  saw  the  whole  army  —  right  of  us 
Macdonald's,  right  of  him,  again,  Maxwell's,  to  our  left 
rear  Lewis's  in  support,  far  away  leftward  of  them 
the  grey  squadrons  of  the  cavalry.  The  word  came, 
and  the  men  sprang  up.  The  squares  shifted  into  the 
fighting  formations :  at  one  impulse,  in  one  superb 
sweep,  near  12,000  men  moved  forward  towards  the 
enemy.  All  England  and  all  Egypt,  and  the  flower 
of  the  black  lands  beyond,  Birmingham  and  the  West 
Highlands,  the  half-regenerated  children  of  the  earth's 
earliest  civilisation,  and  grinning  savages  from  the 
uttermost  swamps  of  Equatoria,  muscle  and  machinery, 
lord  and  larrikin,  Balliol  and  the  Board  School,  the 
Sirdar's  brain  and  the  camel's  back — all  welded  into 
one,  the  awful  war  machine  went  forward  into  action. 


THE  FIRST   GUN.  143 

"We  could  see  their  position  quite  well  by  now, 
about  a  mile  and  a  half  away — the  usual  river  fringe 
of  grey-green  palms  meeting  the  usual  desert  fringe 
of  yellow-grey  mimosa.  And  the  smoke-grey  line  in 
front  of  it  all  must  be  their  famous  zariba.  Up  from 
it  rolled  a  nimbus  of  dust,  as  if  they  were  still  busy 
at  entrenching  ;  before  its  right  centre  fluttered  half  a 
dozen  nags,  white  and  pale  blue,  yellow  and  pale 
chocolate.  The  line  went  on  over  the  crunching 
gravel  in  awful  silence,  or  speaking  briefly  in  half- 
voices — went  on  till  it  was  not  half  a  mile  from  the 
flags.  Then  it  halted.  Thud !  went  the  first  gun, 
and  phutt!  came  faintly  back,  as  its  shell  burst 
on  the  zariba  into  a  wreathed  round  cloud  of  just 
the  zariba's  smoky  grey.  I  looked  at  my  watch, 
and  it  marked  6.20.  The  battle  that  had  now 
menaced,  now  evaded  us  for  a  month  —  the  battle 
had  begun. 

Now,  from  the  horse  battery  and  one  field  battery 
on  the  right,  from  two  batteries  of  Maxim-Nordenfelts 
on  the  left,  just  to  the  right  front  of  the  British,  and 
from  a  war-rocket  which  changed  over  from  left  to 
right,  belched  a  rapid,  but  unhurried,  regular,  relent- 
less shower  of  destruction.  The  round  grey  clouds 
from  shell,  the  round  white  puffs  from  shrapnel,  the 
hissing  splutter  of  rockets,  flighted  down  methodi- 
cally, and  alighted  on  every  part  of  the  zariba  and  of 
the  bush  behind.  A  tire  sprang  and  swarmed  redly 
up  the  dried  leaves  of  a  palm  -  tree ;   before  it  sank 


144         THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  ATBARA. 

another  flung  up  beside  it,  and  then  another.  When 
the  shelling  began  a  few  sparse  shots  came  back;  one 
gunner  was  wounded.  And  all  over  the  zariba  we 
saw  dust -clothed  figures  strolling  unconcernedly  in 
and  out,  checking  when  a  shell  dropped  necr,  and 
then  passing  contemptuously  on  again.  The  enemy's 
cavalry  appeared  galloping  and  forming  up  on  our 
left  of  the  zariba,  threatening  a  charge.  But  tut-tufc- 
tut-tut  went  the  Maxims,  and  through  glasses  we 
could  see  our  cavalry  trembling  to  be  at  them.  And 
the  Baggara  horsemen,  remembering  the  guns  that 
had  riddled  them  and  the  squadrons  that  had  shorn 
through  them  three  days  before,  fell  back  to  cover 
again.  By  now,  when  it  had  lasted  an  hour  or  more, 
not  a  man  showed  along  the  whole  line,  nor  yet  a 
spot  of  rifle  smoke.  All  seemed  empty,  silent,  lifeless, 
but  for  one  hobbled  camel,  waving  his  neck  and 
stupid  head  in  helpless  dumb  bewilderment.  Pres- 
ently the  edge  of  the  storm  of  devastation  caught 
him  too,  and  we  saw  him  no  more. 

An  hour  and  twenty  minutes  the  guns  spoke,  and 
then  were  silent.  And  now  for  the  advance  along  the 
whole  line.  Maxwell's  brigade  on  the  right  —  12th, 
13th,  and  14th  Sudanese  to  attack  and  8th  Egyptian 
supporting — used  the  Egyptian  attack  formation, — 
four  companies  of  a  battalion  in  line  and  the  other 
two  in  support.  Macdonald, — 9th,  10th,  and  11th 
Sudanese  in  front  and  2nd  Egyptian  supporting, — his 
space  being  constricted,  had  three  companies  in  line 


THE  CAMERONS  ADVANCE.  145 

and  three  in  support.  The  British  had  the  Cnmeron3 
in  line  along  their  whole  front;  then,  in  columns  of 
their  eight  companies,  the  Lincoln s  on  the  right,  the 
Seaforths  in  the  centre,  and  the  Warwicks,  two  com- 
panies short,  on  the  left :  the  orders  to  these  last  were 
not  to  advance  till  it  was  certain  the  dervish  cavalry- 
would  not  charge  in  flank.  Lewis's  three -battalion 
brigade — 3rd,  4th,  and  7th  Egyptian — had  by  this 
time  two  battalions  to  the  British  left  rear  and  one 
forming  square  round  the  water  -  camels,  All  the 
artillery  accompanied  the  advance. 

The  Camerons  formed  fours  and  moved  away  to  the 
left,  then  turned  into  line.  They  halted  and  waited 
for  the  advance.  They  were  shifted  back  a  little  to 
the  right,  then  halted  again.  Then  a  staff  officer 
galloped  furiously  behind  their  line,  and  shouted  some- 
thing in  the  direction  of  the  Maxim  battery.  "  Ad- 
vance ? "  yelled  the  major,  and  before  the  answer 
could  come  the  mules  were  up  to  the  collar  and  the 
Maxims  were  up  to  and  past  the  left  flank  of  the 
Camerons.  They  stood  still,  waiting  on  the  bugle — a 
line  of  khaki  and  dark  tartan  blending  to  purple,  of 
flashing  bayonets  at  the  slope,  and  set,  two-month- 
bearded  faces  strained  towards  the  zariba.  In  the 
middle  of  the  line  shone  the  Union  Jack. 

The  bugle  sang  out  the  advance.  The  pipes  screamed 
battle,  and  the  line  started  forward,  like  a  ruler  drawn 
over  the  tussock-broken  sand.  Up  a  low  ridge  they 
moved  forward :  when  would  the  Dervishes  fire  ?    The 


146         THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  ATBARA. 

Camerons  were  to  open  from  the  top  of  the  ridge,  only 
300  yards  short  of  the  zariba  ;  up  and  up,  forward 
and  forward:  when  would  they  fire?  Now  the  line 
crested  the  ridge — the  men  knelt  down.  "  Volley- 
firing  by  sections" — and  crash  it  came.  It  came  from 
both  sides,  too,  almost  the  same  instant.  Wht-t, 
wht-t,  wht-t  piped  the  bullets  overhead:  the  line 
knelt  very  firm,  and  aimed  very  steady,  and  crash 
crash,  crash  they  answered  it. 

0  !  A  cry  more  of  dismayed  astonishment  than 
of  pain,  and  a  man  was  up  on  his  feet  and  over  on 
his  back,  and  the  bearers  were  dashing  in  from 
the  rear.  He  was  dead  before  they  touched  him, 
but  already  they  found  another  for  the  stretcher. 
Then  bugle  again,  and  up  and  on :  the  bullets  were 
swishing  and  lashing  now  like  rain  on  a  pond.  But 
the  line  of  khaki  and  purple  tartan  never  bent  nor 
swayed ;  it  just  went  slowly  forward  like  a  ruler. 
The  officers  at  its  head  strode  self-containedly — they 
might  have  been  on  the  hill  after  red-deer;  only  from 
their  locked  faces  turned  unswervingly  towards  the 
bullets  could  you  see  that  they  knew  and  had  despised 
the  danger.  And  the  unkempt,  unshaven  Tommies, 
who  in  camp  seemed  little  enough  like  Covenanters  or 
Ironsides,  were  now  quite  transformed.  It  was  not  so 
difficult  to  go  on — the  pipes  picked  you  up  and  carried 
you  on — but  it  was  ditlicult  not  to  hurry  ;  yet  whether 
they  aimed  or  advanced  they  did  it  orderly,  gravely, 
without  speaking.     The  bullets  had  whispered  to  raw 


INSIDE   THE   ZARIBA.  147 

youngsters  in  one  breath  the  secret  of  all  the  glories 
of  the  British  Army. 

Forward  and  forward,  more  swishing  about  them 
and  more  crashing  from  them.  Now  they  were 
moving,  always  without  hurry,  down  a  gravelly  in- 
cline. Three  men  went  down  without  a  cry  at  the 
very  foot  of  the  Union  Jack,  and  only  one  got  to 
his  feet  again ;  the  flag  shook  itself  and  still  blazed 
splendidly.  Next,  a  supremely  furious  gust  of  bullets, 
and  suddenly  the  line  stood  fast.  Before  it  was  a 
loose  low  hedge  of  dry  camel-thorn — the  zariba,  the 
redoubtable  zariba.  That  it  ?  A  second  they  stood 
in  wonder,  and  then,  "  Pull  it  away,"  suggested  some- 
body. Just  half-a-dozen  tugs,  and  the  impossible 
zariba  was  a  gap  and  a  scattered  heap  of  brushwood. 
Beyond  is  a  low  stockade  and  trenches ;  but  what  of 
that  ?     Over  and  in  !     Hurrah,  hurrah,  hurrah  ! 

Now  the  inside  suddenly  sprang  to  life.  Out  of 
the  earth  came  dusty,  black,  half-naked  shapes,  run- 
ning, running  and  turning  to  shoot,  but  running 
away.  And  in  a  second  the  inside  was  a  wild  con- 
fusion of  Highlanders,  purple  tartan  and  black-green, 
too,  for  the  Seaforths  had  brought  their  perfect  columns 
through  the  teeth  of  the  fire,  and  were  charging  in  at 
the  gap.  Inside  that  zariba  was  the  most  astounding 
labyrinth  ever  seen  out  of  a  nightmare.  It  began  with 
a  stockade  and  a  triple  trench.  Beyond  that  the  bush 
was  naturally  thick  with  palm  stem  and  mimosa- 
thorn  and  halfa-grass.     But,  besides,  it  was  as  full  of 


148  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  ATBAItA. 

holes  as  any  honeycomb,  only  far  less  regular.  There 
was  a  shelter-pit  for  every  animal — here  a  donkey 
tethered  down  in  a  hole  just  big  enough  for  itself  and 
its  master ;  beside  it  a  straw  hut  with  a  tangle  of 
thorn;  yawning  a  yard  beyond,  a  larger  trench,  choke- 
full  of  tethered  camels  and  dead  or  dying  men.  There 
was  no  plan  or  system  in  it,  only  mere  confusion  of 
stumbling-block  and  pitfall.  From  holes  below  and 
hillocks  above,  from  invisible  trenches  to  right  and 
innocent  tukls  to  left,  the  bewildered  bullets  curved, 
and  twisted,  and  dodged.  It  took  some  company- 
leading  ;  for  the  precise  formations  that  the  bullets 
only  stiffened  were  loosening  now.  But  the  officers 
were  equal  to  it:  each  picked  his  line  and  ran  it,  and 
if  a  few  of  his  company  were  lost — kneeling  by  green- 
faced  comrades  or  vaguely  bayoneting  along  with  a 
couple  of  chance  companions — they  kept  the  mass 
centred  on  the  work  in  hand. 

For  now  began  the  killing.  Bullet  and  bayonet 
and  butt,  the  whirlwind  of  Highlanders  swept  over. 
And  by  this  time  the  Lincolns  were  in  on  the  right, 
and  the  Maxims,  galloping  right  up  to  the  stockade, 
had  withered  the  left,  and  the  AVarwicks,  the  enemy's 
cavalry  definitely  gone,  were  volleying  off  the  blacks 
as  your  beard  conies  off  under  a  keen  razor.  Farther 
and  farther  they  cleared  the  ground — cleared  it  of 
everything  like  a  living  man,  for  it  was  left  carpeted 
thick  enough  with  dead.  Here  was  a  trench ;  bayonet 
that  man.      Here  a  little  straw  tukl;  warily  round 


"A  VERY  GOOD   FIGHT."  149 

to  the  door,  and  then  a  volley.  Now  in  column 
through  this  opening  in  the  bushes ;  then  into  line,  and 
drop  those  few  desperately  firing  shadows  among  the 
dry  stems  beyond.  For  the  running  blacks — poor 
heroes — still  fired,  though  every  second  they  fired  less 
and  ran  more.  And  on,  on  the  British  stumbled  and 
slew,  till  suddenly  there  was  unbroken  blue  overhead, 
and  a  clear  drop  underfoot.  The  river  !  And  across 
the  trickle  of  water  the  quarter-mile  of  dry  sand-bed 
was  a  fly-paper  with  scrambling  spots  of  black.  The 
pursuers  thronged  the  bank  in  double  line,  and  in  two 
minutes  the  paper  was  still  black-spotted,  only  the 
spots  scrambled  no  more.  "Now  that,"  panted  the 
most  pessimistic  senior  captain  in  the  brigade — "  now 
I  call  that  a  very  good  fight." 

Cease  fire!  Word  and  whistle  and  voice  took  a 
little  time  to  work  into  hot  brains;  then  sudden 
silence.  Again,  hurrah,  hurrah,  hurrah  !  It  had  lasted 
forty  minutes ;  and  nobody  was  quite  certain  whether 
it  had  seemed  more  like  two  minutes  or  two  years. 
All  at  once  there  came  a  roar  of  fire  from  the  left ; 
the  half-sated  British  saw  the  river  covered  with  a 
new  swarm  of  flies,  only  just  in  time  to  see  them  stop 
still  as  the  others.  This  was  Lewis's  half-brigade  of 
Egyptians  at  work.  They  had  stood  the  heavy  fire 
that  sought  them  as  if  there  were  no  such  things  as 
wounds  or  death ;  now  they  had  swept  down  leftward 
of  the  zariba,  shovelled  the  enemy  into  the  river-bed, 
and  shot  them  clown.     Bloodthirsty  ?     Count  up  the 


150         THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  ATBARA. 

Egyptians  murdered  by  Mahdism,  and  then  say  so  if 
you  will. 

Meanwhile,  all  the  right-hand  part  of  the  zariba  was 
alive  with  our  blacks.  They  had  been  seen  from  the 
British  line  as  it  advanced,  ambling  and  scrambling 
over  rise  and  dip,  firing  heavily,  as  they  were  ordered 
to,  and  then  charging  with  the  cold  bayonet,  as  they 
lusted  to.  They  were  in  first,  there  cannot  be  a  doubt. 
Their  line  formation  turned  out  a  far  better  one  for 
charging  the  defences  than  the  British  columns,  which 
were  founded  on  an  exaggerated  expectation  of  the 
difficulty  of  the  zariba,  and  turned  out  a  trifle  unhandy. 
And  if  the  zariba  had  been  as  high  and  thick  as  the 
Bank  of  England,  the  blacks  and  their  brigaded 
Egyptians  would  have  slicked  through  it  and  picked 
out  the  thorns  after  the  cease  fire.  As  against  that, 
they  lost  more  men  than  the  British,  for  their  advance 
was  speedier  and  their  volleys  less  deadly  than  the 
Camerons'  pelting  destruction  that  drove  through  every 
skull  raised  an  inch  to  aim. 

But  never  think  the  blacks  were  out  of  hand.  They 
attacked  fast,  but  they  attacked  steadily,  and  kept 
their  formation  to  the  last  moment  there  was  any- 
thing to  form  against.  The  battle  of  the  Atbara  has 
definitely  placed  the  blacks — yes,  and  the  once  con- 
temned Egyptians  —  in  the  ranks  of  the  very  best 
troops  in  the  world.  When  it  was  over  their  officers 
were  ready  to  cry  with  joy  and  pride.  And  the  blacks, 
every   one   of   whom   would    beamingly   charge    the 


THE   JUBILANT   SUDANESE.  151 

bottomless  pit  after  his  Bey,  were  just  as  joyous  and 
proud  of  their  officers.  They  stood  about  among  the 
dead,  their  faces  cleft  with  smiles,  shaking  and  shaking 
each  other's  hands.  A  short  shake,  then  a  salute, 
another  shake  and  another  salute,  again  and  again  and 
again,  with  the  head-carving  smile  never  narrowed  an 
instant.  Then  up  to  the  Bey  and  the  Bimbashis — 
mounted  now,  but  they  had  charged  afoot  and  clear 
ahead,  as  is  the  recognised  wont  of  all  chiefs  of  the 
fighting  Sudan  when  they  intend  to  conquer  or  die 
with  their  men  —  and  more  handshakes  and  more 
salutes.  "  Dushman  quaiss  kitir"  ran  round  from  grin 
to  grin  ;  "  very  good  fight,  very  good  fight." 

Now  fall  in,  and  back  to  the  desert  outside.  And 
unless  you  are  congenitally  amorous  of  horrors,  don't 
look  too  much  about  you.  Black  spindle-legs  curled 
up  to  meet  red-gimbleted  black  faces,  donkeys  head- 
less and  legless,  or  sieves  of  shrapnel,  camels  with 
necks  writhed  back  on  to  their  humps,  rotting  already 
in  pools  of  blood  and  bile-yellow  water,  heads  without 
faces,  and  faces  without  anything  below,  cobwebbed 
arms  and  legs,  and  black  skins  grilled  to  crackling  on 
smouldering  palm-leaf,— don't  look  at  it.  Here  is  the 
Sirdar's  white  star  and  crescent ;  here  is  the  Sirdar, 
who  created  this  battle,  this  clean-jointed,  well-oiled, 
smooth-running,  clockwork-perfect  masterpiece  of  a 
battle.  Not  a  Haw,  not  a  check,  not  a  jolt;  and  not  a 
fleck  on  its  shining  success.  Once  more,  hurrah, 
hurrah,  hurrah  ! 


152 


XVIII. 

LOSSES   AND   GAINS. 

It  was  over.  It  was  a  brilliant,  crushing  victory,  and 
the  dervish  army  was  destroyed :  so  much  everybody 
knew.  But  no  more.  The  fight  had  gone  forward  in 
a  whirl :  you  could  see  men  fall  about  you,  and  knew 
that  there  must  be  losses  on  our  side;  but  whether 
they  were  100  or  1000  it  was  impossible  even  to 
guess.  Then,  as  the  khaki  figures  began  to  muster 
outside  the  zariba,  it  was  good  to  meet  friend  after 
friend — dusty,  sweaty,  deep-breathing,  putting  up  a 
grimed  revolver — untouched.  It  was  good  to  see  the 
Tommies  looking  with  new  adoration  to  the  comfort  of 
their  rifles,  drunk  with  joy  and  triumph,  yet  touched 
with  a  sudden  awe  in  the  presence  of  something  so 
much  more  nakedly  elemental  than  anything  in  their 
experience.  Two  hours  had  sobered  them  from  boys 
to  men.  Just  then  there  was  nothing  in  the  world  or 
under  it  to  which  the  army  would  not  have  been  equal. 
Yet,  in  that  Godlike  moment,  I  fancy  every  man  in 
the  force  thought  first  of  home. 


MAHMUD  A  PRISONER.  153 

Now  to  see  what  we  had  done  and  suffered.  And 
first,  for  a  new  fillip  to  exultation,  Mahrnud  was  a 
prisoner.  Some  soldiers  of  the  10th  Sudanese  had 
found  him  as  they  swept  through  the  zariba — found 
him  sitting  on  his  carpet,  his  weapons  at  his  side,  after 
the  manner  of  defeated  war-chiefs  who  await  death. 
He  was  not  killed,  and  presently  he  was  brought  bare- 
headed before  the  Sirdar — a  tall,  dark-brown  com- 
plexioned  man  of  something  between  thirty  and  forty. 
He  wore  loose  drawers  and  a  gibba  —  the  dervish 
uniform  which  still  mimics  the  patched  shirt  of  the 
Mahcli,  but  embroiders  it  with  gold.  His  face  was 
of  the  narrow-cheeked,  high-foreheaded  type,  for  he 
is  a  pure-bred  Arab:  his  expression  was  cruel,  but 
high.  He  looked  neither  to  right  nor  to  left,  but 
strode  up  to  the  Sirdar  with  his  head  erect. 

"  Are  you  the  man  Mahrnud  ? "  asked  the  Sirdar. 

"  Yes ;  I  am  Mahrnud,  and  I  am  the  same  as  you." 
He  meant  commander-in-chief. 

"  Why  did  you  come  to  make  war  here  ? " 

"  I  came  because  I  was  told, — the  same  as  you." 

Mahrnud  was  removed  in  custody ;  but  everybody 
liked  him  the  better  for  looking  at  his  fate  so  straight 
and  defiantly. 

But  small  leisure  had  anybody  to  pity  Mahrnud: 
the  pity  was  all  wanted  for  our  own  people.  Hardly 
had  the  Camerons  turned  back  from  the  river-bank 
when  it  flew  through  the  companies  that  two  of  the 
finest  officers  in  the  regiment  were  killed.     Captains 


154  LOSSES  AND   GAINS. 

Urquhart  and  Findlay  had  both  been  killed  leading 
their  men  over  the  trenches.  The  first  had  only 
joined  the  battalion  at  Pais  Hudi;  he  had  newly 
passed  the  Staff  College,  and  only  two  days  before 
had  been  gazetted  major;  after  less  than  a  fortnight's 
campaigning  he  was  dead.  Captain  Findlay's  fortune 
was  yet  more  pathetic:  he  had  been  married  but  a 
month  or  two  before,  and  the  widowed  bride  was  not 
eighteen.  He  was  a  man  of  a  singularly  simple,  sincere, 
and  winning  nature,  and  the  whole  force  lamented 
his  loss.  Probably  his  great  height  —  for  he  stood 
near  6  feet  6  inches  —  had  attracted  attack  besides 
his  daring:  he  was  one  of  the  first,  some  said  the 
first,  to  get  over  the  stockade,  and  had  killed  two  of 
the  enemy  with  his  sword  before  he  dropped.  Both 
he  and  Captain  Urquhart  had  got  too  far  ahead  of 
their  men  to  be  protected  by  rifle  fire ;  but  they  were 
followed,  and  they  were  avenged. 

Second-Lieutenant  Gore  of  the  Seaforths  was  also 
killed  while  storming  the  trenches :  he  had  not  yet, 
I  think,  completed  one  year's  service.  Among  the 
wounded  officers  were  Colonel  Verner  of  the  Lincolns 
and  Colonel  Murray  of  the  Seaforths,  both  slightly : 
the  latter  was  very  coolly  tied  up  by  Mr  Scudamore, 
the  'Daily  News'  correspondent,  inside  the  zariba 
under  a  distracting  fire.  More  severely  hit  were 
Major  Napier  (Camerons)  and  Captain  Baillie  (Sea- 
forths): both  were  excellent  officers  and  good  com- 
panions ;  both   afterwards  died.     Besides  these  the 


THE   CASUALTIES.  155 

Seaforths  had  three  officers  wounded,  the  Lincolns 
two,  and  the  Warwicks  one.  Most  of  the  casualties 
occurred  in  crossing  the  trenches,  which  were  just  wide 
enough  for  a  man  to  stand  in  and  deep  enough  to 
cover  him  completely.  As  our  men  passed  over,  the 
blacks  fired  and  stabbed  upwards ;  most  of  the  wounds 
were  therefore  below  the  belt. 

The  Seaforths  happened  to  have  most  officers  hit 
among  the  four  battalions  of  the  British  brigade ;  as 
they  advanced  in  column  against  the  hottest  part  of 
the  entrenchment,  this  was  quite  comprehensible.  But 
the  Camerons,  who  led  the  whole  brigade  in  line,  lost 
most  in  non-commissioned  officers  and  men.  Count- 
ing officers,  they  had  15  killed  and  46  wounded.  The 
Seaforths  lost  (again  with  officers)  6  killed  and  27 
wounded ;  the  Lincolns  1  killed  and  18  wounded  ;  and 
the  "Warwicks  2  killed  and  12  wounded.  Of  these 
several  afterwards  died.  Staff-Sergeant  Wyeth,  A.S.C., 
and  Private  Cross  of  the  Camerons,  were  both  men- 
tioned in  despatches.  The  first  carried  the  Union 
Jack,  which  was  three  times  pierced ;  the  other  was 
General  Gatacre's  bugler.  Wyeth  was  severely 
wounded,  and  Cross  presently  seized  with  terrible 
dysentery :  both  died  within  a  few  days.  Private 
Cros3  had  bayoneted  a  huge  black  who  attacked  the 
general  at  the  zariba,  and  it  was  said  he  was  to  be 
recommended  for  the  V.C.  A  similar  feat  was  done 
by  a  colour-sergeant  of  the  Camerons,  whose  major 
was  entangled  in  the  stockade,  and  must  have  been 


156  LOSSES  AND   GAINS. 

killed.  The  colour- sergeant  never  even  mentioned 
the  service  to  his  officer,  who  only  discovered  it  by 
accident.  Of  course  there  were  scores  of  hair-breadth 
escapes,  as  there  must  be  in  any  close  engagement. 
One  piper  was  killed  with  seven  bullets  in  his  body ; 
a  corporal  in  another  regiment  received  seven  in  his 
clothing,  one  switchbacking  in  and  out  of  the  front 
of  his  tunic,  and  not  one  pierced  the  skin.  Another 
man  picked  up  a  brass  box  inside  the  zariba,  and 
put  it  in  his  breast  pocket,  thinking  it  might  come 
in  useful  for  tobacco.  Next  instant  a  bullet  hit  it 
and  glanced  away.  The  Maxim  battery  had  no 
casualties  —  very  luckily,  for  it  was  up  with  the 
firing  -  line  all  the  time ;  probably  nobody  could 
stand  up  against  it.  Altogether  the  British  brigade 
lost  24  killed  and  104=  wounded,  of  whom  perhaps 
20  died. 

The  Egyptian  loss  was  heavier.  They  had  advanced 
more  quickly,  and  by  reason  of  their  line  formation 
had  got  to  work  in  the  trenches  sooner  than  the 
British ;  but  they  had  not  kept  down  the  enemy's  tire 
with  such  splendid  success.  The  11th  Sudanese, 
which  had  the  honour  of  having  been  one  of  the  first 
inside  the  zariba,  lost  very  heavily — 108  killed  and 
wounded  out  of  less  than  700.  The  total  casualties 
were  57  killed,  and  4  British  and  16  native  officers, 
2  British  non-commissioned  officers,  and  3G5  non- 
commissioned officers  and  men  wounded.  The  white 
officers  were  Walter  Bey  and  Shekleton  Bey,  com- 


A  CHEAP  VICTOKY.  157 

manding  the  9th  and  14th  Sudanese  respectively, 
and  Bimbashis  Walsh  and  Harley  of  the  12th 
Sudanese.  The  former  lost  his  leg.  The  instructors 
were  Sergeants  Handley  of  the  9th  and  Hilton  of  the 
12th.  Thus,  out  of  five  white  men,  the  12th  had  three 
hit.  More  officers  would  probably  have  been  hit,  but 
that  none  except  the  generals  were  allowed  to  ride. 
Geuerals  Hunter,  Macdonald,  and  Maxwell  all  rode 
over  the  trenches  at  the  head  of  their  men. 

The  total  of  casualties,  therefore,  works  out  at  81 
killed  and  493  wounded,  out  of  a  strength  probably  a 
little  short  of  12,000.  It  was  not  a  wholly  bloodless 
victory,  but  beyond  question  it  was  a  wonderfully 
cheap  one.  For  the  results  gained  could  not  be  over- 
stated: Mahmud's  army  was  as  if  it  had  never  been. 
These  two  short  hours  of  shell  and  bullet  and  bayonet 
had  erased  it  from  the  face  of  the  earth. 

A  scribe  taken  prisoner  at  Shendi  said  that  the  force 
which  marched  north  had  been  officially  reported  to 
the  Khalifa  as  18,941  fighting  men.  The  report  may 
or  may  not  have  been  true :  in  any  case  Mahmud  had 
not  this  strength  on  Good  Friday.  Some  had  been 
shot  from  the  gunboats  or  by  the  4th  Battalion  on 
Shebaliya  Island  as  they  came  down  the  river;  some 
had  been  killed  in  the  skirmishes  at  Khor  Abadar,  or 
in  General  Hunter's  reconnaissances  outside  Nakheila. 
Many  had  deserted.  Mahmud  himself  said  that  his 
strength  on  the  8th  was  12,000  infantry  and  4000 
cavalry,  with  10   guns.      Some   days   afterwards   he 


158  LOSSES   AND   GAINS. 

asserted  that  his  cavalry  had  left  him  the  day  before, 
but  that  was  the  brag  of  returning  confidence.  We  all 
6a vv  his  cavalry. 

To  be  sure,  the  cavalry  did  get  away  ;  and  Osman 
Digna,  who  never  fights  to  a  finish,  got  away  with 
them.  The  cavalry  did  nothing  and  behaved  badly, 
which  is  significant.  For  the  cavalry  were  Baggara — 
the  cattle-owning  Arabs  of  the  Khalifa's  own  tribe, 
transplanted  by  him  from  Darfur  to  the  best  lands 
round  Omdurman.  They  are  the  lords  of  the  Sudan 
— and  ingloriously  they  ran  away.  On  the  other  hand, 
the  Jehadia,  the  enlisted  black  infantry,  fought  most 
nobly.  If  their  fire  seemed  bad  to  us,  what  hell  must 
ours  have  been  to  them !  First  an  hour  and  a  half  of 
shell  and  shrapnel — the  best  ammunition,  perfectly 
aimed  and  timed,  from  some  of  the  deadliest  field- 
pieces  in  the  world ;  then  volley  after  volley  of  blunted 
Lee-Metford  and  of  Martini  bullets,  delivered  coolly  at 
300  yards  and  less,  with  case  and  Maxim  fire  almost 
point-blank.  The  guns  fired  altogether  1500  rounds, 
mostly  shrapnel ;  the  Camerons  averaged  34  rounds 
per  man.  A  black  private,  asked  by  his  Bimbashi  how 
many  rounds  he  fired,  replied,  "  Only  15."  "  Why, 
you're  not  much  of  a  man,"  said  his  officer.  "Ah,  but 
then,  Effendim,"  he  eagerly  excused  himself,  "I  had  to 
carry  a  stretcher  besides."  If  the  black  bearer-parties 
fired  15  rounds,  what  must  the  firing-line  have  done! 
Mahmud  said  that  his  people  had  only  laughed  at  the 
shrapnel,  but  that  the  infantry  fire  was  Sheitun  tarn- 


FEROCIOUS   HEROISM.  159 

am  —  the  very  devil.  Mahmud,  however,  admitted 
that,  having  been  round  the  position,  he  lay  close  in 
his  stockade  during  the  bombardment;  and  as  his 
stockade,  or  casemate,  was  the  strongest  corner  in  the 
place,  he  can  hardly  speak  for  the  rest.  And  I  saw 
scores  and  hundreds  of  dead  goats  and  sheep,  donkeys 
and  camels,  lying  in  pits  in  the  part  of  the  zariba 
stormed  by  the  British.  Now  Thomas  Atkins  does  not 
kill  animals  needlessly,  even  when  his  blood  is  hottest. 
The  beasts  therefore  must  have  been  killed  by  shrap- 
nel ;  and  if  so  many  beasts,  we  may  presume  that  many 
men,  no  better  protected,  were  killed  too.  And  so,  I 
am  afraid,  unavoidably,  were  many  women,  for  the 
zariba  was  full  of  them. 

Yet  the  black  Jehadia  stood  firm  in  their  trenches 
through  the  infernal  minutes,  and  never  moved  till 
those  devilish  white  Turks  and  their  black  cousins 
came  surging,  yelling,  shooting,  and  bayoneting  right 
on  top  of  them.  Many  stayed  whtre  they  were  to  die, 
only  praying  that  they  might  kill  one  first.  Those 
who  ran,  ran  slowly,  turning  doggedly  to  fire.  The 
wounded,  as  usual,  took  no  quarter;  they  had  to  be 
killed  lest  they  should  kill.  For  an  example  of  their 
ferocious  heroism,  I  cite  a  little,  black,  pot-bellied  boy 
of  ten  or  so.  He  was  standing  by  his  dead  father, 
and  when  the  attackers  came  up,  he  picked  up  an 
elephant-gun  and  fired.  He  missed,  and  the  kicking 
monster  half-killed  him ;  but  he  had  done  what  he 
could. 


160  LOSSES    AND    GAINS. 

In  the  zariba  itself  Bimbashi  Watson,  A.D.C.  to  the 
Sirdar,  counted  over  2000  dead  before  he  was  sick  of 
it.  There  were  others  left:  trench  after  trench  was 
found  tilled  with  them.  A  few  were  killed  outside  the 
zariba;  a  great  many  were  shot  down  in  crossing  the 
river-bed.  Altogether  3000  men  must  have  been 
killed  on  the  spot ;  among  them  were  nearly  all  the 
Emirs,  including  "Wad  Bishara,  who  was  Governor  of 
Dongola  in  1896.  But  this  was  not  half  the  signifi- 
cance of  the  victory.  Now  you  began  to  comprehend 
the  perfection  of  the  Sirdar's  strategy.  If  he  had 
waited  for  Mahmud  on  the  Nile,  fugitives  could  have 
escaped  up-stream.  If  he  had  waited  low  down  the 
Atbara,  they  could  still  have  got  across  to  the  Nile. 
But  by  giving  battle  up  at  Nakheila,  he  gave  the 
escaping  dervish  thirty  miles  of  desert  to  struggle 
across  before  he  could  reach  water  and  such  safety 
as  the  patrolling  gunboats  would  allow  him.  A  few 
may  have  got  back  to  Omdurman  —  if  they  dared ; 
some  certainly  were  afterwards  picked  off  by  the 
gunboats  in  the  attempt.  Others  fled  up  the  Atbara; 
many  were  picked  up  by  the  cavalry  through  the 
afternoon:  some  got  as  far  as  Adarama  or  even  near 
Ivassala,  and  were  killed  by  the  friendly  levies  there. 
For  the  wounded  the  desert  was  certain  death.  In 
a  word,  the  finest  dervish  army  was  not.  Retreat 
was  impossible,  pursuit  superfluous ;  defeat  was  anni- 
hilation. 


161 


XIX. 

THE  TRIUMPH. 

M  Catch  'em  alive  0  !     Catch  'em  alive  0 1 
If  they  once  gets  on  the  gum 
They'll  pop  off  to  kingdom  come  ; 
Catch  'em  alive  0  !     Catch  'em  alive  0  ! 
For  I  am  the  flyest  man  around  the  town." 

Back  swung  the  blacks  from  battle.  The  band  of  the 
Twelfth  specialises  on  Mr  Gus  Elen :  it  had  not  been 
allowed  to  play  him  during  the  attack — only  the  regi- 
mental march  till  the  bandsmen  were  tired  of  it,  and 
then  each  instrument  what  it  liked — but  now  the  air 
quoted  came  in  especially  apposite. 

They  had  caught  'em  alive  0.  Hardly  one  but  had 
slung  behind  him  a  sword  or  a  spine-headed  spear,  a 
curly  knife,  or  a  spiky  club,  or  some  other  quaint 
captured  murdering -iron.  Some  had  supplemented 
their  Martini  with  a  Remington,  an  inch  calibre 
elephant  -  gun  with  spherical  iron  bullets  or  conical 
shells,  a  regulation  Italian  magazine  rifle,  a  musket 
of  Mahomet  Ali's  first  expedition,  a  Martini  of  '85,  or 


162  THE  TRIUMPH. 

a  Tower  Rifle  of  '56  with  a  handful  of  the  cartridges 
the  sepoys  declined  to  bite.  Some  had  suits  of 
armour  tucked  inside  them ;  one  or  two,  Saracen 
helmets  slung  to  their  belts.  Over  one  tarbush 
waved  a  diadem  of  black  ostrich  plumes.  The  whole 
regiment  danced  with  spear-headed  banners  blue  and 
white,  with  golden  letters  thereupon  promising  victory 
to  the  faithful.  And  behind  half-a-dozen  men  tugged 
at  one  of  Mahmud's  ten  captured  guns ;  they  meant  to 
ask  the  Sirdar  if  they  might  keep  it. 

The  band  stopped,  and  a  hoarse  gust  of  song  flung 
out.  From  references  to  Allah  you  might  presume  it 
a  song  of  thanksgiving.  Then,  tramp,  tramp,  a  little 
silence,  and  the  song  came  again  with  an  abrupt  ex- 
ultant roar.  The  thin-legged,  poker-backed  shadows 
jerked  longer  and  longer  over  the  rough  desert  shingle. 
They  had  been  going  from  six  the  bitter  night  before, 
and  nothing  to  eat  since,  and  Nakheila  has  been  111° 
in  the  shade,  with  the  few  spots  of  shade  preoccupied 
by  corpses.  That  being  so,  and  remembering  that 
the  British  and  wounded  had  to  follow,  the  Second 
Brigade  condescended  to  a  mere  four  miles  an  hour. 
And  "  By  George  !  you  know,"  said  the  Bey,  "  they're 
lovely  ;  they're  rippers.  I've  seen  Sikhs  and  I've  seen 
Gurkhas,  and  these  are  good  enough  for  me.  This  has 
been  the  happiest  day  of  my  life.  I  wasn't  happier 
the  day  I  got  the  D.S.O.  than  I've  been  to-day." 

It  was  the  happiest  day  of  a  good  many  lives.  But 
forty  all  but  sleepless  hours  on  your  feet  or  in  your 


THE   WOUNDED.  163 

saddle  toll  on  the  system  in  a  climate  that  seesaws 
between  a  grill  and  an  ice-machine.  By  the  time  I  got 
in  I  was  very  contented  to  tie  my  horse  by  some  whity- 
brown  grass  and  tumble  to  sleep  with  my  head  on  the 
saddle.  At  midnight  dinner  was  ready ;  then  solid 
sleep  again.  Awaking  at  five,  I  found  an  oihcer  of 
Colonel  Lewis's  brigade  in  his  spurs  and  demanding 
tea.  He  had  got  in  from  Nakheila  but  two  hours 
before,  which  brought  his  fast  well  over  twenty-four 
hours  and  his  vigil  to  close  on  forty-eight. 

For  it  isn't  everybody  that  tramps  back  into  camp 
from  battle  with  bands  and  praises  of  Allah.  Some 
stay  for  good,  and  it  pricks  you  in  your  joy  when  you 
catch  yourself  thinking  of  that  swift  and  wicked  injus- 
tice. Why  him  ?  Also  some  come  home  on  their 
backs,  or  wrenched  and  moaning  in  cacolets  bump- 
ing on  baggage-camels.  Lewis's  never-weary,  never- 
hungry  Egyptians  had  been  bringing  in  the  wounded— 
carrying  stretchers  across  twelve  black  miles  of  desert 
at  something  over  a  mile  an  hour.  And  General 
Hunter,  who  in  the  morning  had  been  galloping  bare- 
headed through  the  bullets,  waving  on  the  latest-raised 
battalion  of  blacks,  now  chose  to  spend  the  night  play- 
ing guide  to  the  crawling  convoy.  General  Hunter 
could  not  do  an  unsoldierlike  act  if  he  tried. 

It  was  difficult  after  all  to  be  sorry  for  most  of  the 
men  who  were  hit,  they  were  so  aggressively  not  sorry 
for  themselves.  The  afternoon  of  the  fight  they  lay 
in  a  little  palm-grove  northward  of  the  zariba  under 


1G4  THE  TKIUMPH. 

tents  of  blanket — a  double  row  of  khaki  and  grey 
flannel  shirt,  with  more  blankets  below  them  and 
above.  One  face  was  covered  with  a  handkerchief; 
one  man  gasped  constantly — just  the  gasp  of  the  child 
that  wants  sympathy  and  doesn't  like  to  ask  for  it; 
one  face  was  a  blank  mask  of  yellow  white  clay.  The 
rest,  but  for  the  red-splashed  bandages  and  the  im- 
portunate reek  of  iodoform,  might  have  been  lying 
down  for  a  siesta.  Their  principal  anxiety  —  these 
bearded  boys  who  had  never  fired  a  shot  oil'  the  range 
before  —  was  to  learn  what  size  of  deed  they  had 
helped  to  do  to-day.  "A  grahn'  fight  ?  The  best  ever 
fought  in  the  Sudan  ?  Eh,  indeed,  sir ;  ah'm  vara 
glahd  to  hear  ye  say  so."  "  Now,  'ow  would  you  sy, 
sir,  this  'd  be  alongside  them  fights  they've  been  'avin' 
in  India?"  "Bigger,  eh?  Ah!  Will  it  be  in  to- 
morrow's pyper  ?  Well,  they'll  be  talkin'  about  us  at 
'ome."  It  was  not  the  unhappiest  day  in  these  men's 
lives  either. 

The  morrow  of  the  fight  brought  a  quiet  morning 
— for  all  but  correspondents,  who  had  now  to  pay  for 
many  days  of  idle  luxury — and  in  the  afternoon  we 
all  marched  off  to  the  old  camp  at  Abadar.  Thence 
on  Sunday  the  brigades  were  to  march  to  their  old 
quarters — British  to  Darmali,  1st  to  Berber,  2nd  to 
Essillem,  and  3rd  to  Fort  Atbara.  Everybody  was 
agasp  for  the  moving  air  and  moving  water  of  the 
Nile.  But  the  British  got  very  late  into  camp  on 
Saturday  night,  and  there  was  no  longer  any  hurry, 


THE  RETURN  TO  BERBER.  165 

as  there  was  no  longer  any  enemy.  So  instead  we 
had  an  Easter  Sunday  church-parade — men  standing 
reverently  four  -  square  in  the  sand ;  in  the  middle 
the  padre,  square-shouldered  and  square-jawed,  with 
putties  and  square  boots  showing  under  the  surplice; 
a  couple  of  drums  for  lectern,  and  "  Thanks  be  to  God, 
who  giveth  us  the  victory,"  for  text. 

On  Monday,  the  11th,  the  Sirdar  rode  into  Fort 
Atbara,  and  the  Egyptian  brigades  followed  him. 
The  British  marched  to  Hudi,  and  thence  across  the 
desert  to  Darmali,  their  summer  quarters.  There 
began  to  be  talk  about  leave.  But  before  the  cam- 
paign closed  there  was  one  inspiriting  morning — the 
return  to  Berber. 

It  was  more  like  a  Roman  triumph  than  anything 
you  have  ever  seen — like  in  its  colour,  its  barbarism, 
its  intoxicating  arrogance.  The  Sirdar  reached  Berber 
an  hour  or  so  after  sunrise ;  the  garrison — Macdouald's 
brigade — had  bivouacked  outside.  The  Sirdar  rode 
up  to  the  once  more  enfranchised  town,  and  was  there 
received  by  a  guard  of  honour  of  the  1st  Egyptians, 
who  had  held  the  town  during  the  campaign.  The 
guns  thundered  a  salute.  Then  slowly  he  started  to 
ride  down  the  wide  main  street  —  tall,  straight,  and 
masterful  in  his  saddle.  Hunter  Pasha  at  his  side, 
his  staff  and  his  flag  behind  him,  then  Lewis  Bey 
and  some  of  his  officers  from  Fort  Atbara,  then  a 
clanking  escort  of  cavalry.  At  the  gate  he  passed 
under  a  triumphal  arch,  and  all  the  street  was  Vene- 


166  THE   TRIUMPH. 

tian  masts  and  bunting  and  coloured  paper,  and 
soldiers  of  the  1st  presenting  arms,  and  men  and 
women  and  children  shrieking  shrill  delight. 

Well  might  they  ;  for  they  have  tried  both  rules,  and 
they  prefer  that  of  Egypt.  So  they  pressed  forward 
and  screamed  "  Lu,  lu,"  as  they  saw  returning  the 
Sirdar  and  their  Excellencies,  these  men  of  fair 
face  and  iron  hand,  just  to  the  weak  and  swiftly 
merciless  to  the  proud.  And  when  these  had  passed 
they  pressed  forward  still  more  eagerly.  Farther 
behind,  in  a  clear  space,  came  one  man  alone,  his 
hands  tied  behind  his  back.  Mahmud !  Mahmud, 
holding  his  head  up  and  swinging  his  thighs  in  a 
swaggering  stride — but  Mahmud  a  prisoner,  beaten, 
powerless.  When  the  people  of  Berber  saw  that, 
they  were  convinced.  It  was  not  a  lie,  then :  the 
white  men  had  conquered  indeed.  And  many  a  dark- 
skinned  woman  pressed  forward  to  call  Mahmud 
"Dog"  to  his  face:  it  was  Mahmud,  last  year,  who 
massacred  the  Jaalin  at  Metemmeh. 

By  this  time  the  Sirdar  had  come  almost  to  the 
bazaar,  at  the  north  end  of  the  town  ;  and  there  was  a 
small  platform  with  an  awning.  He  dismounted,  and  so 
did  the  officers ;  then  took  his  stand,  and  in  came  the 
troops.  At  their  head  the  brigadier — "old  Mac," 
bronzed  and  grizzled,  who  has  lived  in  camp  and 
desert  and  battlefield  these  twenty  years  on  end. 
Then  the  blacks,  straight  as  the  spears  they  looted  at 
Nakheila,  quivering  with  pride  in  their  officers  and 


THE  FINEST  SIGHT  OF  ALL.  167 

their  own  manhood — yet  not  a  whit  prouder  than 
when  they  marched  out  a  month  before.  Then  the 
cavalry  and  the  guns  and  the  camel-corps — every  arm 
of  the  victorious  force.  And  Berber  stood  by  and 
wondered  and  exulted.  The  band  crashed  and  the 
people  yelled.  "  Lu-u-u,  lu-u-u-u "  piped  the  black 
women,  and  you  could  see  the  brave,  savage,  simple 
hearts  of  the  black  men  bounding  to  the  appeal. 
And  the  Sirdar  and  General  Hunter  and  the  others 
stood  above  all,  calm  and  commanding;  below  Bey 
and  Bimbashi  led  battalion  or  squadron  or  battery,  in 
undisturbed  self-reliance.  You  may  call  the  show 
barbaric  if  you  like :  it  was  meant  for  barbarians. 
The  English  gentleman,  if  you  like,  is  half  barbarian 
too.  That  is  just  the  value  of  him.  Here  was  this 
little  knot  of  white  men  among  these  multitudes  of 
black  and  brown,  swaying  them  with  a  word  or  the 
wave  of  a  hand  upraised.  Burned  from  the  sun  and 
red-eyed  from  the  sand,  carrying  fifteen  years'  toil 
with  straight  backs,  bearing  living  wounds  in  elastic 
bodies.  They,  after  all,  were  the  finest  sight  of  the 
whole  triumph — so  fearless,  so  tireless,  so  confident. 


168 


XX. 

EGYPT   OUT   OF  SEASON. 

Ttieee  was  no  difference  in  Port  Said.  Ships  want 
coal  in  July  as  in  December:  the  black  dust  hung 
over  the  Canal  in  sullen  fog,  and  the  black  demons  of 
the  pit  wailed  as  they  tripped  from  lighter  to  deck 
under  their  baskets.  In  the  hotel  the  Levantine 
clerks  and  agents  took  their  breakfast  in  white  ducks 
under  a  punkah,  but  that  was  all  the  change.  Black 
island  of  coal,  jabbering  island  of  beggars  and  touts, 
forlorn  island  cranked  in  by  sea  and  canal  and  swamp 
and  sand,  Tort  Said  in  summer  was  not  appreciably 
more  God-forsaken  than  in  the  full  season. 

3 

Ismailia  was  not  appreciably  deader  than  usual. 
If  anything,  with  half-a-dozen  French  summer  gowns 
and  a  French  bicycle  club,  in  blue  and  scarlet  jerseys, 
doing  monkey-tricks  in  front  of  the  station,  it  was  a 
shade  more  alive. 

In  Cairo  came  the  awful  change.  Cairo  the  fashion- 
able, the  brilliant,  was  a  desolation.  When  you  run 
into  the  station  in  the  season,  the  platform  is  lined 


CAIRO  IN   JULY.  1G9 

with  names  of  hotels  on  the  gold-laced  caps  of  under- 
porters :  you  can  hardly  step  out  for  swarms  of 
Arabs,  who  fight  for  your  baggage.  On  the  night  of 
July  12,  the  platform  showed  gaunt  and  large  and 
empty.  The  streets  were  hardly  better — a  few  list- 
less Arabs  in  the  square  outside  the  station,  and  then 
avenue  on  avenue  of  silent  darkness. 

By  daylight  Cairo  looked  like  a  ball-room  the 
morning  after.  One  hotel  was  shamelessly  making 
up  a  rather  battered  face  against  next  season.  The 
verandah  of  Shepheard's,  where  six  months  ago  you 
could  not  move  for  tea-tables,  nor  hear  the  band  for 
the  buzz  of  talk,  was  quite  empty  and  lifeless ;  only 
one  perspiring  waiter  hinted  that  this  was  a  hotel. 
The  Continental,  the  centre  of  Cairene  fashion,  had  a 
whole  wing  shuttered  up;  the  mirrors  in  the  great 
hall  were  blind  with  whiting,  and  naked  suites  of  bed- 
room furniture  camped  out  in  the  great  dining-room. 
Some  shops  were  shut ;  the  rest  wore  demi-toilettes 
of  shutter  and  blind ;  the  dozing  shopkeepers  seemed 
half- resentful  that  anybody  should  wish  to  buy  in 
such  weather.  As  for  scarabs  and  necklaces  and  curi- 
osities of  Egypt,  they  no  longer  pretended  to  think  that 
any  sane  man  could  give  money  for  such  things.  As 
you  looked  out  from  the  Citadel,  Cairo  seemed  dazed 
under  the  sun ;  the  very  Pyramids  looked  as  if  they 
were  taking  a  holiday. 

All  that  was  no  more  than  you  expected :  you  knew 
that  no  tourists  came  to  Egypt  in  July.     But  native 


170  EGYPT  OUT   OF   SEASON. 

Egypt  was  out  of  season  too.  The  streets  that  clacked 
with  touts  and  beggars,  that  jingled  with  every  kind 
of  hawker's  rubbish — you  passed  along  them  down 
a  vista  of  closed  jalousies  and  saw  not  a  soul,  heard 
not  a  sound.  The  natives  must  be  somewhere,  only 
where  ?  A  few  you  saw  at  road-making,  painting,  and 
the  like  jobs  of  an  off-season.  But  every  native  was 
dull,  listless,  hanging  from  his  stalk,  half  dead.  Eyes 
were  languid  and  lustreless :  the  painter's  head  drooped 
and  swayed  from  side  to  side,  and  the  brush  almost 
fell  from  his  lax  fingers.  In  the  narrow  bevel  of 
shadow  left  under  a  wall  by  the  high  sun,  flat  on  back 
or  face,  open-mouthed,  half  asleep,  half  fainting,  gasped 
Arab  Cairo — the  parasite  of  the  tourist  in  his  holiday, 
the  workman  leaving  his  work,  donkey-boy  and  donkey 
fiat  and  panting  together. 

Well  might  they  gasp  and  pant ;  for  the  air  of 
Cairo  was  half  dead  too.  You  miglit  drive  in  it  at 
night  and  feel  it  whistle  round  you,  but  it  did  not 
refresh  you.  You  might  draw  it  into  your  lungs,  but 
it  did  not  fill  them.  The  air  had  no  quality  in  it,  no 
body :  it  was  thin,  used  up,  motionless,  too  limp  to 
live  in.  The  air  of  August  London  is  stale  and  close, 
poor ;  exaggerate  it  fifty-fold  and  you  have  the  air  of 
July  Cairo.  You  wake  up  at  night  dull  and  flaccid 
and  clammy  with  sweat,  less  refreshed  than  when  you 
lay  down.  You  live  on  what  sleep  you  can  pilfer 
during  the  hour  of  dawn.     As  you  drive  home  at  night 


NILELESS  EGYPT.  171 

you  envy  the  dark  figure  in  a  galabeah  stretched  on 
the  pavement  of  Kasr-en-Nil  bridge;  there  only  in 
Cairo  can  you  feel  a  faint  stirring  in  the  air. 

To  put  all  in  one  word,  Egypt  lacks  its  Nile.  The 
all-fathering  river  is  at  his  lowest  and  weakest.  In 
places  he  is  nearly  dry,  and  what  water  he  can  give 
the  cracked  fields  is  pale,  green,  unfertile.  He  was 
beginning  to  rise  now,  slowly ;  presently  would  come 
the  flood  and  the  brown  manuring  water.  The  night 
wind  would  blow  strongly  over  his  broadened  bosom, 
the  green  would  spring  out  of  the  mud,  and  Egypt 
would  be  alive  again. 

Only  in  one  place  was  she  alive  yet — and  that  was 
the  Continental  Hotel.  Here  all  day  sat  and  came 
and  went  clean-limbed  young  men  in  flannels,  and 
at  dinner-time  the  terrace  was  cool  with  white  mess- 
jackets.  Outside  was  the  only  crowd  of  natives  in 
Cairo — a  thick  line  of  Arabs  squatting  by  the  opposite 
wall,  nursing  testimonials  earned  or  bought,  cooks 
and  valets  and  grooms — waiting  to  be  hired  to  go  up 
the  Nile.  Up  at  the  citadel  they  would  show  you  the 
great  black  up-standing  40-pounder  guns  with  which 
they  meant  to  breach  Khartum.  Out  at  Abbassieh 
the  21st  Lancers  were  changing  their  troop-horses  for 
lighter  Syrians  and  country-breds.  The  barrack-yard 
of  Kasr-en-Nil  was  yellow  with  tents,  and  under  a 
breathless  afternoon  sun  the  black-belted  Rifle  Brigade 
marched  in  from  the  station  to  fill  them.     The  wilted 


172  EGYPT  OUT  OF  SEASON. 

Arabs  hardly  turned  their  heads  at  the  band;  the 
TTifles  held  their  shoulders  square  and  stepped  out 
with  a  rattle. 

The  Egyptian  may  feel  the  sun  ;  the  Englishman 
must  stand  up  and  march  in  it.  You  see  it  is  his 
country,  and  he  must  set  an  example.  And  seeing 
Egypt  thus  Nileless,  bloodless,  you  felt  more  than 
ever  that  he  must  lose  no  time  in  taking  into  firm 
fingers  the  keys  of  the  Nile  above  Khartum. 


173 


XXI. 

GOING    UP. 

On  the  half-lit  Cairo  platform  servants  flung  agonised 
arms  round  brothers'  necks,  kissed  them  all  over,  and 
resigned  themselves  to  the  horrors  of  the  Sudan.  In- 
side the  stuffy  carriages  was  piled  a  confusion  of  bags 
and  bundles,  of  helmet-cases  and  sword-cases,  of  can- 
vas buckets  cooling  soda,  and  canvas  bottles  cooling 
water, — of  Beys  and  Bimbashis  returning  from  leave. 
It  was  rather  like  the  special  train  that  takes  boys 
back  to  school.  A  few  had  been  home — but  the  Sirdar 
does  not  like  to  have  too  many  of  his  officers  seen  in 
Piccadilly;  it  doesn't  look  well.  Some  had  been  to 
Constantinople,  to  Brindisi  and  back  for  the  sea,  to 
San  Stefano,  the  Ostend  of  Egypt,  to  Cairo  and  no 
farther.  Like  schoolboys,  they  had  all  been  wild  to 
get  away,  and  now  they  were  all  wild  to  get  back. 
Thank  the  Lord,  no  more  Cairo — sweat  all  the  night 
instead  of  sleep,  and  mosquitos  tearing  you  to  pieces. 
Give  me  the  night-breeze  of  the  desert  and  the  clean 
sand  of  the  Sudan. 


174  GOING   UP. 

But  first  we  had  to  tunnel  through  the  filthiest 
seventeen  hours  iu  Egypt.  The  servants  had  spread 
our  blankets  on  the  bare,  hard  leather  seats  of  the 
boxes  that  Egyptian  railways  call  sleeping-cars;  a 
faint  grateful  air  began  to  glide  in  through  the 
windows.  And  then  came  in  the  dust.  Without  haste 
— had  it  not  seventeen  hours  before  it? — it  streamed 
through  every  chink  in  a  thick  coffee-eoloured  cloud. 
It  piled  itself  steadily  over  the  seats  and  the  floor,  the 
bags  and  bundles  and  cases ;  it  built  up  walls  of  mud 
round  the  soda-water,  and  richly  larded  the  half-cold 
chicken  for  the  morrow's  lunch.  "We  choked  ourselves 
to  sleep ;  in  the  morning  we  choked  no  longer,  the 
lungs  having  reconciled  themselves  to  breathe  powdered 
Egypt.  Our  faces  were  layered  with  coffee-colour, 
thicker  than  the  powder  on  the  latest  fashionable 
lady's  nose.  Hair  and  moustaches,  eyebrows  and  eye- 
lashes, and  every  corner  of  sun-puckered  eyes,  were 
lost  and  levelled  in  rich  friable  soil.  And  from  the 
caked,  sun-riven  fields  of  thirsty  Egypt  fresh  clouds 
rose  and  rolled  and  settled,  till  in  all  the  train  you 
saw,  smelt,  touched,  tasted  nothing  but  dust. 

At  Luxor  came  the  first  novelty.  When  I  came 
down  the  practicable  railway  stopped  short  there : 
now  a  narrow-gauge  railway  ran  through  to  Assuan. 
It  is  not  quite  comprehensible  why  the  gauge  should 
have  been  broken, — perhaps  to  make  sure  that  the 
line  should  be  kept  exclusively  military.  It  can 
easily  be  altered  afterwards  to  the  Egyptian  gauge; 


THE  PRICE  OF  TAMING  THE  SUDAN.      175 

meanwhile  the  journey  is  done  by  train  in  twelve 
hours  against  the  post-boat's  thirty-six. 

Assuan  was  the  same  as  ever.  Shellal,  at  the  head 
of  the  cataract,  the  great  forwarding  station  for  the 
South,  was  the  same,  only  much  more  so.  The  high 
bank  was  one  solid  rampart  of  ammunition  and  beef, 
biscuit  and  barley ;  it  clanged  and  tinkled  all  night 
through  with  parts  of  steamers  and  sections  of  barges. 
Stern -wheelers  came  down  from  the  South,  turned 
about,  took  in  fuel,  hooked  on  four  barges  alongside, 
and  thudded  off  up-river  again.  No  hurry  ;  no  rest. 
And  here  was  the  same  Commandant  as  when  I  came 
up  before.  He  had  had  one  day  in  Cairo  ;  his  hair 
was  two  shades  greyer ;  he  was  still  being  reviled  by 
everybody  who  did  not  have  everything  he  wanted 
sent  through  at  five  seconds'  notice ;  he  was  still 
drawing  unmercifully  on  body  and  brain,  and  ripping 
good  years  out  of  his  life  to  help  to  conquer  the  Sudan. 
Victory  over  dervishes  may  be  won  in  an  hour,  may 
be  cheap;  victory  over  the  man-eating  Sudan — the 
victory  of  the  railway,  the  steamer,  the  river — means 
months  and  years  of  toil  and  so  much  of  his  life  lost, 
to  every  man  that  helps  to  win  it. 

The  steamer  tinkered  at  her  fourteen-year-old  boiler 
for  twenty  hours,  and  then  trudged  off  towards  Haifa. 
She  did  the  200  odd  miles  in  77  hours,  so  that  it 
would  Lave  been  almost  as  quick  to  have  gone  by 
road  in  a  wheelbarrow.  But  then  the  nuggars  along- 
side were  heavy  with  many  sacks  of   barley,  to  be 


176  GOING  UP. 

turned  later  into  cavalry  chargers.  Moreover,  on  the 
second  morning,  rounding  a  bend,  we  suddenly  saw  a 
line  drawn  diagonally  across  the  river.  All  the  water 
below  the  line  was  green  ;  all  above  it  was  brown 
And  the  brown  pressed  slowly,  thickly  forward,  driv- 
ing the  green  before  it.  This  was  the  Nile-flood, — the 
rich  Abyssinian  mud  that  comes  down  Blue  Nile  and 
Atbara.  When  this  should  have  floated  down  below 
the  cataract,  Egypt  would  have  water  again,  air  again, 
bread  again,  life  again.  And  the  Sudan  would  have 
gunboats  and  barges  of  cartridges  and  gyassas  of  food 
and  fodder,  and  the  Sirdar  thundering  at  the  gates  of 
Khartum. 

Next  windy,  green-treed  Haifa — only  this  time  it 
was  less  windy  than  last,  and  the  trees,  though  still 
the  greenest  on  the  Nile,  were  not  so  green.  Last 
time  there  had  been  melons  growing  on  the  sandy 
eyot  opposite  the  commanderia,  and  the  eyot  had 
grown  higher  daily ;  this  time  it  was  all  dry  sand 
and  no  melons, — only  it  grew  daily  smaller  in  the 
lapping  water.  But  spring  or  summer,  Haifa's  busi- 
ness is  the  same — the  railway  and  the  recruits.  Thaf 
line  was  finished  now  up  to  the  Atbara,  and  the  fore- 
shore was  clear  of  rails  and  sleepers.  But  instead 
they  were  forcing  through  stores  and  supplies,  chok- 
ing the  trucks  to  the  throat  with  them.  The  glut  had 
only  begun  when  the  line  reached  its  terminus ;  it 
would  be  over  before  the  new  white  brigade  came 
through.     Everything  in  the  Sirdar's  Expedition  has 


CONTENTED  RENEGADES.  177 

its  own  time  —  first  material,  then  transport,  then 
troops;  and  woe  unto  him  who  is  behind  his  time. 
The  platform  was  black  and  brown,  blue  and  white 
with  a  great  crowd  of  natives.  For  drawn  up  in  line 
opposite  the  waiting  trucks  were  rigid  squads  of  black 
figures  in  the  familiar  brown  jersey  and  blue  putties, 
and  on  the  tarbushes  the  badges,  green,  black,  red, 
yellow,  blue,  and  white,  of  each  of  the  six  Sudanese 
battalions.  Thin-shanked  Shilluks  and  Dinkas  from 
the  White  Nile,  stubby  Beni-Helba  from  Darfur  and 
the  West, — they  were  just  the  figures  and  huddled 
savage-smiling  faces  that  we  had  last  seen  at  Berber. 
Only — the  last  time  we  had  seen  those  particular 
blacks  they  were  shooting  at  us.  Every  one  had  begun 
life  as  a  dervish,  and  had  been  taken  prisoner  at  or 
after  the  Atbara.  Now,  not  four  months  after,  here 
they  were,  erect  and  soldierly,  with  at  least  the  rudi- 
ments of  shooting,  on  their  way  to  fight  their  former 
masters,  and  very  glad  to  do  it.  They  knew  when 
they  were  well  off.  Before  they  were  slaves,  half- 
clothed,  half-fed,  half-armed,  good  to  lose  their  women 
at  Shendi,  and  to  stay  in  the  trenches  of  Nakheila  when 
the  Baggara  ran  away.  Now  they  are  free  soldiers, 
well  paid,  well  clothed,  well  fed,  with  weapons  they 
can  trust  and  officers  who  charge  ahead  and  would 
rather  die  than  leave  them.  Their  women — who,  after 
all,  only  preceded  them  into  the  Egyptian  army — are 
as  safe  from  recapture  at  Haifa  as  you  are  in  the 
Strand.     No  wonder  the  blacks  grinned  merrily  as 


178  GOING   UP. 

they  bundled  up  on  to  the  trucks,  and  the  women 
lu-lu-lued  them  off  with  the  head-stabbing  shrillness 
of  certain  victory. 

The  first  time  I  travelled  on  the  S.M.R.  I  enjoyed 
a  berth  in  the  large  saloons ;  the  second  time  in  one 
of  the  small  saloons ;  this  time  it  was  a  truck.  But 
the  truck,  after  all,  was  the  most  comfortable  of  the 
three.  It  was  a  long  double-bogie,  with  a  plank  roof, 
and  canvas  curtains  that  you  could  let  down  when 
the  sun  came  in,  and  eight  angarebs  screwed  to  the 
floor.  Therein  six  men  piled  their  smaller  baggage, 
and  set  up  their  tables,  and  ate  and  drank  and  slept 
and  yawned  forty-eight  hours  to  the  Atbara.  Of  all 
the  three  months'  changes  in  the  Sudan,  here  were  the 
most  stupefying.  Abeidieh,  where  the  new  gunboats 
had  been  put  together,  had  grown  from  a  hut  and  two 
tents  to  a  railway  station  and  triangle  and  watering- 
plant  and  engine  -  shed,  and  rows  of  seemly  mud- 
barracks,  soon  to  be  hospital.  But  the  Atbara  was 
even  more  utterly  transformed.  I  had  left  it  a  for- 
tified camp;  I  found  it  a  kind  of  Nine  Elms.  Lewis 
Bey's  house,  then  the  pride  of  the  Sudan,  now  cowered 
in  the  middle  of  a  huge  mud- walled  station -yard. 
Boxes  and  barrels  and  bags  climbed  up  and  over- 
shadowed and  choked  it.  Ammunition  and  stores, 
food  and  fodder — the  journey  had  been  a  crescendo 
of  them,  but  this  was  the  fortissimo.  You  wandered 
about  among  the  streets  of  piles  that  towered  over- 
head, and  lost  yourself  in  munitions  of  war.     Along 


"FAKTHEJi  SOUTH."  179 

the  Nile  bank,  where  two  steamers  together  had  been 
a  rarity,  lay  four.  Another  paddled  ceaselessly  to  and 
fro  across  the  river,  where  the  little  two-company 
camp  had  grown  into  lines  for  the  cavalry  and  camel 
corps.  Slim- sparred  gyassas  fringed  all  the  bank; 
lateen  sails  bellied  over  the  full  river. 

Of  troops  the  place  was  all  but  empty ;  the  indis- 
pensable Egyptians  were  away  up  the  river  cutting 
and  stacking  wood  for  the  steamers  or  preparing 
depots.  In  mid-April  the  Atbara  was  the  as  yet  un- 
attained  objective  of  the  railway;  in  mid- July  the 
railway  was  ancient  history,  and  the  Atbara  was  the 
port  of  departure  for  the  boats.  Just  a  half-way  house 
on  the  road  to  Khartum.  What  a  man  the  Sirdar  is — 
if  he  is  a  man  !  We  got  out  and  pitched  our  tents ; 
and  here  we  found  the  men  who  had  not  been  on 
leave — the  railway  and  the  water  transport  and  the 
camel  transport  and  the  fatigues  in  general — working 
harder,  harder,  harder  every  day  and  every  night. 
We  drank  a  gin-and-soda  to  the  master-toast  of  the 
Egyptian  army :  "  Farther  South  1" 


180 


XXII. 

THE   FIRST   STEPS   FORWARD. 

At  the  beginning  of  August  the  military  dispositions 
were  not,  on  paper,  very  different  from  those  of  the 
end  of  April.  The  Sirdar's  headquarters  had  been 
moved  to  the  Atbara  in  order  that  the  vast  operations 
of  transport  at  that  point  might  go  on  under  his  own 
eye.  Of  the  four  infantry  brigades  which  had  fought 
against  Mahmud,  three  were  still  in  their  summer 
quarters.  Neither  of  the  two  additional  brigades 
had  yet  arrived  at  the  front. 

The  force  destined  for  Omdurman  consisted  of  two 
infantry  divisions,  one  British  and  one  Egyptian;  one 
regiment  of  British  and  ten  squadrons  of  Egyptian 
cavalry ;  one  field  and  one  howitzer  battery,  and  two 
siege-guns  of  British  artillery  and  one  horse  and  four 
field  batteries  of  Egyptian,  besides  both  British  and 
Egyptian  Maxims;  eight  companies  of  camel-corps; 
the  medical  service  and  the  transport  corps ;  six 
fighting  gunboats,  with  eight  transport  steamers  and 
a  host  of  sailing  boats. 


TEE   EGYPTIAN   INFANTRY.  181 

The  Egyptian  infantry  division  was  commanded,  as 
before,  by  Major-General  Hunter ;  but  it  now  counted 
four  brigades  instead  of  three.  The  First,  Second,  and 
Third  (Macdonald's,  Maxwell's,  and  Lewis's)  were  con- 
stituted as  in  the  Atbara  campaign. 

The  commanding  officers  of  battalions  were  the 
same  except  for  the  13th  Sudanese.  Smith-Dorrien 
Bey,  who  originally  raised  the  regiment,  now  com- 
manded in  place  of  Collinson  Bey.  The  latter  officer 
had  been  promoted  to  the  command  of  the  Fourth 
Brigade.  It  was  entirely  Egyptian — the  1st  (Bim- 
bashi  Doran),  5th  (Borhan  Bey,  with  native  officers), 
17th  (Bunbury  Bey),  and  the  newly-raised  18th  (Bim- 
bashi  Matchett).  Of  these  the  first  was  at  Fort 
Atbara;  the  17th  and  18th  were  coming  up  from 
Merawi,  hauling  boats  over  the  Fourth  Cataract. 
They  reached  Abu  Hamed  by  the  beginning  of 
August.  The  5th  was  half  at  Berber  and  half  on 
the  march  across  the  desert  from  Suakim.  The 
Third  Brigade  was  at  various  points  up-river,  cutting 
wood  for  the  steamers. 

The  two  Egyptian  battalions  (2nd  and  8th)  attached 
to  the  First  and  Second  Brigades  were  at  Nasri  Island, 
ten  miles  or  so  from  the  foot  of  the  Shabluka  Cata- 
ract, forming  a  depot  for  supplies  and  stores.  The 
six  black  battalions  left  Berber  on  July  30,  and  ar- 
rived at  the  Atbara  in  the  small  hours  of  August  1. 
Taking  the  strength  of  an  Egyptian  battalion  at  750, 
the  division  would  number  12,000  men. 


182  THE  FIRST   STEPS  FORWARD. 

Major  -  General  Gatacre  commanded  the  British 
Division.  Of  its  two  brigades  the  First — the  British 
Brigade  of  the  last  campaign,  now  under  Colonel 
Wauchope  —  was  still  in  summer  quarters.  Head- 
quarters, Camerons,  Seaforths,  and  Maxim  battery  at 
Darmali ;  Lincolns  and  Warwicks  at  Essillem.  The 
last  two  had  changed  commanding  officers  —  Lieu- 
tenant-Colonel Louth  now  had  the  Lincolns,  Lieu- 
tenant -  Colonel  Forbes  the  "Warwicks.  The  latter 
officer  had  arrived  at  Umdabieh  two  days  before  the 
Atbara  fight  to  relieve  Lieutenant  -  Colonel  Quale 
Jones,  ordered  home  to  command  the  2nd  Battalion  of 
the  regiment;  with  rare  tact  and  common -sense  it 
was  arranged  that  Colonel  Jones  should  lead  the  bat- 
talion he  knew.  Colonel  Forbes  went  into  the  fight 
as  a  free-lance,  and  I  saw  him  enjoying  himself  like 
a  schoolboy  with  a  half  -  holiday.  The  Warwicks 
rejoiced  once  more  in  the  possession  of  their  two 
companies  from  the  Merawi  garrison.  Casualties  in 
action,  and  deaths  and  invalidings  from  sickness,  had 
brought  down  the  strength  of  this  brigade,  though 
officers  and  men  had  stood  the  climate  exceedingly 
well.  The  sick-rate  had  never  touched  6  per  cent. 
There  were  not  fifty  graves  in  the  cemetery ;  and  most 
of  the  faces  at  the  mess-tables  were  familiar.  The 
Lincolns,  who  had  come  up  over  1100  strong,  still  had 
980 ;  the  other  three  battalions  were  each  about  750 
strong,  and  the  Warwicks  were  expecting  a  draft  of 
sixty  men.     With  the  Maxims,  A.S.C.,  and  Medical 


THE  BRITISH   DIVISION.  183 

Service  the  strength  of  the  brigade  would  come  to 
nearly  3500.  The  Second  Brigade  had  not  yet  come 
up  from  Egypt.  Colonel  Lyttelton  was  to  command. 
The  four  battalions  composing  it  were  the  1st 
Northumberland  Fusiliers  (5th,  Lieutenant-Colonel 
Money)  and  2nd  Lancashire  Fusiliers  (20th,  Lieu- 
tenant-Colonel Collingwood)  from  the  Cairo  garrison, 
the  2nd  Pdfie  Brigade  (Colonel  Howard)  from  Malta, 
and  the  1st  Grenadier  Guards  from  Gibraltar.  Each 
battalion  was  to  come  up  over  1000  strong.  The  1st 
Royal  Irish  Fusiliers,  from  Alexandria,  were  sending 
up  a  Maxim  detachment  with  four  guns,  so  that  the 
whole  division  would  number  well  over  7500. 

Broadwood  Bey's  nine  squadrons  of  cavalry  had 
concentrated  during  the  last  week  of  July  on  the 
western  bank  opposite  Fort  Atbara.  They  were  to 
march  up,  starting  on  August  4,  and  to  be  joined 
at  Metemmeh  by  a  squadron  from  Merawi.  The  21st 
Lancers  (Colonel  Martin)  were  expected  up  from  Cairo 
about  500  strong ;  the  total  of  the  cavalry  would  be 
about  1500.  British  and  Egyptian  were  to  be  separate 
commands. 

The  whole  of  the  artillery,  on  the  other  hand,  was 
under  Long  Bey,  of  the  Egyptian  Army.  The  arrival 
of  Bimbashi  Stewart's  battery  from  Merawi  had  com- 
pleted the  strength  of  the  Egyptian  artillery ;  both 
this  battery  and  Bimbashi  Peake's  had  been  re-armed 
with  9-pounder  Maxim- JSTordenfeldts,  so  that  all  the 
field  guns  were  now  the  same.      These,  with  the  horse 


184  THE   FIRST  STEPS   FORWARD. 

battery,  began  to  go  up  the  Nile  at  the  beginning  of 
August — the  pieces  by  boat,  the  horses  and  mules 
marching.  The  32nd  Field  Battery  B.A.  (Major  Wil- 
liams), the  37th  Field  Battery  with  5-inch  howitzers 
and  Lyddite  shells  and  two  40-pounder  siege  guns, 
were  coming  np  from  Cairo.  This  would  give  a  total 
of  forty- four  guns,  besides  twenty  British  and  Egyp- 
tian Maxims. 

Two  companies  of  camel  corps  were  at  the  Atbara, 
timed  to  march  on  August  2.  One  was  coming  over 
from  Suakim.  The  other  five,  under  Tudway  Bey, 
commanding  the  whole  corps,  were  to  start  with  the 
Merawi  squadron  of  cavalry,  about  the  same  time, 
and  march  by  Sir  Herbert  Stewart's  route  across  the 
Bayuda  Desert  to  Metemmeh.  The  strength  would 
be  about  8(J0.  The  land  force  was  thus  over  22,000 
men. 

The  three  new  gunboats — Malik,  Sheikh,  and  Sultan 
— were  put  together  at  Abeidieh,  the  work  beginning 
immediately  after  the  battle  of  the  Atbara,  as  soon 
as  the  railway  reached  that  place.  They  carry  two 
12^-pounder  Maxim-Nordenfeldt  quick-firers  fore  and 
aft,  and  three  Maxims,  two  on  the  upper  deck  and 
one  on  a  platform  above.  They  are  lightly  armoured, 
being  bullet  proof  all  over,  and  the  screw  is  protected 
by  being  sunk  in  a  plated  well  a  few  feet  forward  of 
the  stern.  As  fighting  boat?  they  might  be  expected 
lo  show  superior  qualities  to  the  vessels  of  the  Zafir 
class ;  but  as  beasts  of  burden  with  barges  they  were 


IF  THE  KHALIFA  EEFUSED  BATTLE!      185 

inferior  to  tliese.  Drawing  only  18  inches  against  the 
older  boat's  30  inches,  they  could  not  get  grip  enough 
of  the  water  to  make  good  headway  against  the  full 
Nile. 

Prom  the  disposition  of  the  force,  extended  along 
the  Nile  from  Shabluka  to  Alexandria,  and  across  the 
desert  from  Korti  to  Suakim,  it  was  evident  that  the 
campaign  had  not  yet  opened  by  the  beginning  of 
August.  The  army  was  only  entering  on  the  move- 
ments preparatory  to  concentration.  The  point  of 
concentration  was  Wad  Habashi,  a  dozen  miles  or  so 
south  of  Shabluka  ;  the  time  was  as  yet  uncertain. 
Transport  was  so  far  forward  that  we  might  easily  get 
to  Omdurman  the  first  week  in  September.  All  de- 
pended on  the  weather.  Up  to  now  there  had  been 
hardly  any  rain.  But  the  real  rainy  season  —  said 
Slatin  Pasha,  who  is  the  only  white  man  with  real 
opportunity  of  knowing  —  runs  from  August  10  to 
September  10.  It  might  be  sooner  or  later,  heavier 
or  lighter.  A  swollen  river,  a  Hooded,  torrent-riven 
bank,  malaria  and  ague,  would  hold  us  back.  A  dry 
season  would  pass  us  gaily  through. 

And  when  we  advanced  from  Wad  Habashi  ?  It 
was  utterly  impossible  to  say  what  would  befall.  If 
the  Khalifa  wanted  to  give  us  trouble,  he  would  leave 
without  fighting.  That  would  probably  mean  that  he 
would  get  his  throat  cut  by  one  of  the  innumerable 
enemies  he  has  made;  certainly  it  would  mean  the 
collapse  of  his  empire.     But  it  would  also  mean  a 


186  THE  FIRST  STEPS   FORWARD. 

costly  expedition  with  no  finality  at  the  end  of  it; 
it  would  mean  years  of  anarchy,  daeoity  from  Khar- 
tum to  the  Albert  Nyanza,  from  Abyssinia  to  Lake 
Chad.  Only  there  was  always  the  relieving  thought 
that  Khalifa  Abdullah!  would  aim  not  so  much  at 
giving  trouble  to  us  as  at  avoiding  it  for  himself. 
With  Mahmud's  experience  before  his  eyes  he  might 
think  it  safest  to  be  taken  prisoner.  He  might,  just 
possibly,  even  decide  to  die  game. 

Granting  that  he  fought,  it  was  still  hopelessly  un- 
certain where  and  how  he  would  fight.  It  might  be 
at  Kerreri,  sixteen  miles  north  of  his  capital ;  it  might 
be  inside  his  wall.  We  could  speculate  for  days ;  we 
did ;  but  to  come  to  any  conclusion  more  likely  than 
any  other  was  beyond  any  man  in  the  army. 


187 


XXIII. 
IN   SUMMER   QUARTERS. 

Scene  of  the  dialogue,  a  mess-room  in  a  village  on 
the  Nile.  Time,  nearly  lunch-time.  A  subaltern  is 
discovered  smoking  a  cigarette  under  the  verandah. 
Enter  I. 

Subaltern.  Hallo,  Steevens !  when  did  you  come  up  ? 
Get  down  and  have  a  drink.  Hi,  you  syce !  Take 
this  hawaga's  hoosan  and  take  the  sarg  and  bridle  off 
and  dini  a  drink  of  moyyah.  What'll  you  drink  ?  .  .  . 
Oh  no :  this  isn't  so  bad — better  than  Eas  Hudi,  any- 
how. You're  looking  at  our  pictures- — out  of  the 
'  Graphic,'  you  know — coloured  them  ourselves — helps 
you  through  the  day,  you  know :  that's  a  well-developed 
lady,  isn't  it  ?  Have  a  cigarette,  will  you  ?  We're 
all  getting  pretty  well  fed  up  with  this  place  by  now. 

Enter  a  Captain.  Hallo,  Steevens !  when  did  you 
come  up?  Have  you  got  anything  to  drink?  I 
suppose  you've  been  at  home  all  this  time.  No,  I 
haven't  been  farther  north  than  Berber.  Had  a  very 
jolly  ten  days  up  the  Atbara,  though.     Two  parties 


188  IN   SUMMER   QUARTERS. 

went — one  with  the  General,  one  afterwards.  Seven 
guns  got  a  hundred  and  sixty-live  sand-grouse  in  one 
day.  Went  up  right  beyond  our  battlefield.  High? 
Never  smelt  anything  like  it  in  my  life.  The  bush 
gets  very   thick  above.     No;    no  lions. 

Subaltern.  We  got  a  croco  down  here,  though,  and  a 
bally  great  fish  with  a  head  on  him  three  feet  six  long, 
the  head  alone.  No,  I  haven't  been  down  either.  I 
went  down  with  a  boat  party  to  Geneineteh,  though — 
ripping.  There  was  a  grass  bank  just  six  inches  above 
the  water,  and  you  could  bathe  all  day.  The  men 
loved  it,  if  they  were  pretty  fit  to  begin  with;  if  they 
weren't,  you  see,  what  with  bully  beef  and  dirty 
water 

Captain.  But  we're  all  getting  fed  up,  as  the 
Tommies  say,  with  this  place  by  now. 

Enter  a  Senior  Captain.  Hallo,  Steevens !  I  heard 
you'd  come  up.  In  this  country  it  isn't  "Have  a 
drink,"  but  "  What'll  you  drink  ?  "  Well,  here  we  are 
still  in  this  filthy  country.  Yes,  I  got  ten  days  in 
Cairo,  but  I  was  at  the  dentist's  all  the  time.  Gad, 
what  a  country!  When  I  think  of  all  the  lives  that 
have  been  lost  for  this  miserable  heap  of  sand  they 
call  the  Soudan — ugh  ! — it's — it's 

Subaltern.  Ripping  sport:  everybody  was  wondering 
how  the  Pari  Mutuel  was  done  so  well.  The  truth 
was,  it  was  run  by  the  same  men  of  the  Army  Pay 
Department  that  do  it  at  the  races  in  Cairo.  Devilish 
goud  race,  too,  the  Atbara  Derby.     We  thought  we 


THE   UNIVERSAL  QUESTION.  189 

hadn't  got  a  chance  against  all  these  Egyptian  army 
fellows,  and  Fair  won  it  by  a  head,  Sparkes  second,  a 
bad  third. 

Enter  a  Major.  Well,  Steevens,  how  are  you  ?     Been 

up  lung  ?     Have  a I  see  you've  got  one.     Good 

to  see  all  you  fellows  coming  out  again ;  means  busi- 
ness.    River's  very  full  to-day,  isn't  it  ? 

Captain.  Risen  three  feet  and  an  inch  since  yester- 
day. The  Atbara  flood,  I  suppose.  You  were  at 
Atbara ;  did  you  see  it  ? 

/.  Rather.  It  came  down  roaring,  hit  the  Nile,  and 
piled  up  on  end.  Brought  down  trees,  beams,  dug- 
outs  

Major.  "Well,  now,  shall  we  go  in  to  lunch  ?  You 
didn't  see  the  First  British  Brigade  field-firing  to-day, 
did  you?  Nothing  will  come  within  800  yards  of  that 
alive.     Do  you  think  we  shall  have  a  fight  ? 

Enter  a  Colonel.  Good  morning,  Mr  Steevens :  have 
you  been  up  long  ?  Are  you  being  attended  to  ?  Yes, 
now;  shall  we  have  a  fight?  What  will  he  do  now? 
1  can't  bear  to  think  we  aren't  going  to  have  a  fight. 

Senior  Captain.  Fight?  wh 

Major.  If  he'd  only  come  out  into  the  open 

C'a/>/<iin.  No;  he'll  stick  behind  his 

Subaltern.  Wall :  then  we  shall  have 


Major.  Two  days'  bombardment ;  but  then,  you 
know 

Colonel.  Well,  I  wish  we'd  another  brigade  in  re- 
serve to  stay  at 


190  IN   SUMMER   QUARTERS. 

Senior  Captain.  Another  brigade,  sir?  Why,  it 
makes  me  sick  to  see  all  this  preparation  against 
such  an  enemy.  We  had  1500  men  at  Abu  Klea, 
and  now  we've  got  20,000.  Fanatics  ?  Look  at  those 
men  we  fought  at  the  Atbara,  those  miserable  scally- 
wags. Do  you  call  these  fanatics  ?  Sell  their  lives  ? 
give  'em  away.  Despise  the  enemy  ;  yes,  I  do  despise 
them ;  I  despise  them  utterly.  Eiiles  are  too  good  for 
them.  Sticks,  sir,  we  ought  to  take  to  them — sticks 
with  bladders  on  the  end.  Why,  the  moment  we 
came  to  their  zariba  they  got  up  and  ran — got  up  like 
a  white  cloud  and  ran.  And  then  all  these  prepara- 
tions and  all  this  force  ?  They're  a  contemptible 
enemy — a  wretched,  despicable  enemy.  Why  won't 
the  Sirdar  let  the  gunboats  above  Shabluka  ?  Because 
Beatty  would  take  Khartum. 

Colonel.  Come,  come  now.  But  what'll  you  have  to 
eat  now  ? 

General  Conversation.  Going  to  the  Gymkhana  this 
afternoon.  .  .  .  Squat  on  his  hunkers  inside  his 
wall  .  .  .  won't  sell  you  a  drop  of  milk,  the  surly 
devils,  when  we're  saving  their  country  .  .  .  the 
houses  at  Omdurman  are  outside  the  wall,  you  know 
.  .  .  not  a  bad  notion  of  jumping,  that  bay  pony  .  .  . 
street-to-street  fighting,  we  should  lose  a  devil  of  a  lot 
of  men  .  .  .  did  you  hear  the  Guards  cabled  to  ask 
what  arrangements  had  been  made  for  ice  on  the  cam- 
paign ?  .  .  .  but  then  he  can't  defend  his  wall ;  it 
hasn't  got  a  banquette,  and  it's  twelve  feet  high  .  .  . 


THE  RECRUIT  AND   TIIE  MIRAGE.  191 

gave  the  recruit  their  water-bottles  to  fill  at  the  lake. 
"  Here,  Jock,"  they  said,  "  take  mine  too."  So  the 
wretched  man  started  off  with  the  water-bottles  of 
the  whole  half-company  to  till  them  at  the  mirage  .  .  . 
have  another  drink  .  .  .  rather;  fed  up  with  it;  rail- 
way fatigues,  too,  and  field-days  twice  a- week  ...  it 
was  their  Colonel  kept  them  from  coming  up,  they 
say :  damned  fine  regiment  all  the  same  .  .  .  weakest 
Government  of  this  century,  sir  .  .  .  stowasser  gaiters 
...  go  under  canvas  a  couple  of  days  before  we 
start  .  .  .  ripping  sport  .  .  .  fed  up  .  .  .  drink  .  .  . 

Colonel  {rising).  Well,  now,  will  you  have  a  cigarette? 

Senior  Captain.  A  miracle  of  mismanagement.  .  .  . 

Voice  of  Tommy  (outside).  Whatcher  doin'  ? 

Second  voice.  Cancher  see  ?  stickin'  'oods  on  these 
'ere  cacolets. 

Voice  of  Tommy.  Whatcher  doin'  that  for  ? 

Second  voice.  Doncher  know?  To  kerry  the  bleed'n' 
Grenadier  Gawds  to  Khartum. 


192 


XXIV. 

DEPARTURES  AND   ARRIVALS. 

On  the  3rd  of  August  the  six  Sudanese  battalions 
left  Fort  Atbara  for  the  point  of  concentration  at 
Wad  Habashi.  Most  people  who  saw  them  start 
remarked  that  they  would  be  very  glad  to  hear  they 
had  arrived. 

You  may  have  seen  sardines  in  tins ;  but  you 
will  never  really  know  how  roomy  and  comfortable 
a  tinned  sardine  must  feel  until  you  have  seen  blacks 
packed  on  one  of  the  Sirdar's  steamers.  Nothing 
but  the  Sirdar's  audacity  would  ever  have  tried  it; 
nothing  but  his  own  peculiar  blend  of  luck  and 
judgment  would  have  carried  it  through  without 
apj >iil ling  disaster. 

Dressed  in  nothing  but  their  white  Friday  shirt 
and  drawers,  the  men  filed  on  to  the  boats.  Every 
man  carried  his  blanket,  for  men  from  the  Equator 
have  tender  chests,  but  it  was  difficult  to  see  how 
he  was  ever  to  get  into  it.     On  each  deck  of  each 


A  MIRACLE   OF  TRANSPORT.  193 

steamer  they  squatted,  shoulder  to  shoulder,  toe  to 
back,  chin  to  knee.  Fast  alongside  each  gunboat  were 
a  couple  of  double-decked  roofed  barges,  brought  out 
in  sections  from  England  for  this  very  purpose.  Both 
decks  were  jammed  full  of  black  men  till  you  could 
not  have  pushed  a  walking-stick  between  them  :  tin 
upper  deck  bellied  under  their  weight  like  a  ham 
mock.  At  the  tail  of  each  gunboat  floated  a  gyassa 
or  two  gyassas:  in  them  you  could  have  laid  your 
blanket  and  slept  peacefully  on  the  soldiers'  heads. 
Thus  in  this  land  of  impossibilities  a  craft  not  quite 
so  big  as  a  penny  steamer  started  to  take  1100  men, 
cribbed  so  that  they  could  not  stretch  arm  or  leg, 
100  miles  at  rather  under  a  mile  an  hour. 

The  untroubled  Nile  floated  down  brim-full,  thick 
and  brown  as  Turkish  coffee,  swift  and  strong  as  an 
ocean.  The  turbid  Atbara  came  down  swish i  112  and 
rushing,  sunk  bushes  craning  their  heads  above  the 
Hood,  and  green  Sodom  apples  racing  along  it  like 
bubbles,  and  flung  itself  upon  the  Nile.  Against  the 
double  streams  the  steamers — seven  in  all,  bigger  and 
smaller,  with  over  G000  men — pulled  slowly,  slowly 
southward.  The  faithful  women,  babies  on  their 
hips,  screamed  one  more  farewell:  their  life  is  a 
string  of  farewells,  threaded  with  jewels  of  victori- 
ous return.  The  huddled  heaps  of  white  cotton  and 
black  skin  began  to  blend  together  in  the  blurring 
sunlight.  They  started  before  breakfast;  by  lunch- 
time  all  but  one  had  vanished  round  the  elbow  a 


194  DEPARTURES  AND   ARRIVALS. 

mile  or  two  up-stream.  The  blacks  were  gone  out 
to  conquer  again. 

Blacks  gone,  whites  came.  The  Headquarters  and 
first  four  companies  of  the  Eifle  Brigade  were  in  camp 
before  the  steamers  were  under  way.  These  things 
fit  in  like  the  joints  of  your  body  till  you  take  them 
for  the  general  course  of  things ;  only  when  you  go 
to  Headquarters  and  see  Chiefs-of-Staff  and  D.A.A.G.S. 
and  orderly-officers  and  aides-de-camp  calculating  and 
verifying  and  countersigning  and  telegraphing  and 
acknowledging,  do  you  realise  that  the  staff-work  of 
an  army  is  the  biggest  and  most  business-like  busi- 
ness in  the  world. 

The  Rifles'  first  morning  of  Sudan  was  not  endear- 
ing. They  were  shot  out  on  to  a  little  hillock  or  plat- 
form at  half-past  one  in  the  morning,  in  the  middle 
of  one  of  the  best  dust-storms  of  the  season.  Through 
the  throttled  moonlight  they  might  have  seen,  if  they 
had  cared  to  look  at  anything,  the  correspondent  of 
the  'Daily  Mail'  hammering  at  his  uptorn  tent-pegs 
with  a  tin  of  saddle-soap,  and  howling  dismally  to  a 
mummified  servant  to  bring  him  the  mallet.  Tack, 
tack,  tack  went  the  mallets  all  over  camp.  But 
the  Ttilles  had  neither  tents  nor  anrarebs  nor  bags: 
they  were  dumped  down  among  their  baggage  and  sat 
down  for  five  hours  to  contemplate  the  smiling  Sudan. 
Then  they  disinterred  themselves  and  their  belongings 
and  marched  into  camp. 

But  this  new  brigade  was  to  have  a  Cook's  tour  by 


TWO   FAVOUEED   REGIMENTS.  195 

comparison  with  the  other.  They  had  abundant  kit 
and  abundant  stores.  From  the  sea  to  Shabluka  they 
hardly  needed  to  put  foot  to  the  ground :  thence  it  was 
a  matter  of  half-a-dozen  marches  to  Khartum  and  Orn- 
durman.  Fight  there — then  into  boats  again  and  down 
to  the  rail-head  at  the  Atbara;  train  to  Haifa,  boat  to 
Assuan,  train  to  Cairo  or  Alexandria — the  two  new 
battalions,  Rifles  and  Guards,  might  be  up  and  down 
again,  in  and  out  of  the  country  inside  a  couple  of 
months.  The  sarcastic  asked  why  they  were  not 
brought  up  in  ice,  unpacked  at  Omdurman  to  fight, 
and  then  packed  in  ice  again.  But  that  was  unjust. 
Either  you  must  give  a  regiment  time  to  get  fit  and 
weed  out  its  weaklings,  or  else  you  must  cocker  it  all 
you  can  till  you  want  it.  The  Rifles  and  Guards 
would  never  be  as  hard  as  the  splendid  sun-dried 
battalions  of  the  First  Brigade — there  was  not  time 
to  harden  them.  The  next  best  thing  was  to  keep 
them  fresh  and  fit  by  sparing  them  as  much  as 
possible. 

So  the  Rifles  made  their  camp  on  the  Atbara  bank 
— cool,  airy,  and  relatively  free  from  dust-drift.  Next 
day — the  4th — the  second  half  of  the  battalion  came 
in;  next  day  Brigadier-General  Lyttelton  with  his 
staff  and  the  32nd  field  battery  ;  next  day  the  first  half 
of  the  Grenadier  Guards.  So  they  were  timed  to  go  on 
— half  a  battalion  or  a  battery  or  a  squadron  nearly 
every  morning  till  the  whole  second  brigade  was  on 
the  Atbara.     Before  the  tail  of  it  had  arrived  the  head 


196  DEPARTURES  AND   ARRIVALS. 

would  be  off  again — men  and  guns  by  boat,  beasts  by 
road — to  Wad  HabashL 

To  transport  5000  men,  600  horses,  two  batteries 
with  draught  cattle,  and  two  siege-guns  some  1300 
miles  along  a  line  of  rail  and  river  within  four  weeks  is 
not,  perhaps,  on  paper,  a  very  astounding  achievement. 
But  remember  last  time  we  came  the  same  way.  Re- 
member 18S4 — the  voyageurs  and  the  Seedee  boys,  the 
whalers  and  the  troopers  set  to  ride  on  camels  and 
fight  on  foot,  and  all  the  rest  of  the  Empire-ballet 
business — the  force  that  left  Cairo  about  the  time  of 
year  these  were  leaving,  that  began  to  leave  Haifa  at 
the  opening  of  September  and  siruck  the  Kile  at 
Metemmeh  late  in  January,  while  most  of  it  never  got 
ley<md  Korti.  It  is  exactly  the  difference  between 
the  amateur  and  the  professional. 

Ifemember,  furthermore,  that  the  railway  from  Luxor 
to  Assnan  and  the  railway  from  Haifa  to  the  Atbara 
are  both  quite  new:  at  home,  with  every  engineering 
facility  which  is  lacking  in  the  Sudan,  a  new  line  is 
allowed  a  few  months'  trial  to  settle  and  mature  before 
heavy  traffic  is  run  over  it.  The  track  is  single,  the 
engines  are  many  of  them  old,  the  native  ollieials  are 
all  of  them  incapable.  The  steamers  are  few  and  in 
great  part  old.  The  wind  for  the  sailing  boats  was 
mostly  contrary.  The  country  is  a  howling  red-hot 
depopulation.  Yet  every  arriving  vessel  was  not 
merely  up  to  its  time  but  a  little  before  it.  It  wanted 
for  nothing  by  the  way,  and  when  it  arrived  found 


THE  PERFECTION   OF  METHOD.  197 

provision  for  just  three  times  as  long  as  it  was  likely 
to  need  it. 

And  .ill  the  time,  remember,  just  the  same  thing 
was  going  on  up  the  river.    While  the  trains  were  bring- 
ing the  British,  the  boats  were  taking  the  blacks.    The 
gyasses  sank  their  low  waists  awash  with  the  Nile- 
flood  under  groaning  loads  of  supplies  :  the  streets  of 
boxes  and  sacks  at  the  Atbara  never  seemed  to  grow 
less,  but  similar  streets  were  rising  at  Nasri  Island. 
Above  us  the  bank  was  being  stacked  with  wood  for 
the  steamers  ;  below  us  Egyptian  battalions  were  haul- 
ing at  more  boats  to  take  more  supplies  forward.    All 
one  steady  pull  along  a  rope  1300  miles  long — a  pull 
without  a  stumble,  without  a  slack.     And  the  Sirdar 
ran  his  eye  along  the  whole  tension  of  it,  knowing 
every   man's   business   better   than   he    did    himself. 
Only  furious  because  the  wind  was  south  or  west  in- 
stead of  north.     He  was  not  accustomed  to  such  luck, 
and  he  did  not  deserve  it.    13ut  neither  did  he  succumb 
to  it.    The  sailing  boats  went  south  all  the  same.    The 
Sirdar  told  them  to  go  south ;  and  somehow,  tacking, 
towing,  punting,  Allah  knows  how,  south  it  was. 


198 


XXV. 

THE  PATHOLOGY  OF  THIRST. 

If  it  had  not  been  for  the  drink  I  should  never  have 
come  twice  to  the  Sudan. 

It  is  part  of  the  comprehensive  uselessness  of  this 
country  that  its  one  priceless  production  can  never 
be  exported.  If  the  Sudan  thirst  could  be  sent  home 
in  capsules,  like  the  new  soda-water  sparklets,  it  would 
make  any  man's  fortune  in  an  evening.  The  irony 
of  it  is,  that  there  is  so  much  thirst  here  —  such  a 
limitless  thirst  as  might  supply  the  world's  whole 
population  richly :  on  the  other  side  there  are  millions 
of  our  fellow  -  creatures,  surrounded  by  every  liquor 
that  art  can  devise  and  patience  perfect,  but  wanting 
the  thirst  to  drink  withal.  Gentlemen  in  England 
now  abed  will  call  themselves  accursed  they  were 
not  here.  And  even  the  few  white  men  who  vainly 
strive  to  do  justice  to  these  stupendous  depths  and 
intensities,  these  vast  areas  and  periods  of  thirst — 
how  utterly  and  pitiably  inadequate  we  are  to  our 
high  opportunity. 


THE  TRUE  SUDAN  THIRST.  199 

I  wonder  if  you  ever  were  thirsty  ?  Probably  not. 
I  never  had  been  till  I  came  to  the  Sudan,  and  that 
is  why  I  came  again.  If  you  have  been  really  thirsty, 
and  often,  you  will  be  able  to  distinguish  many  vari- 
ations of  the  phenomenon.  The  sand-storm  thirst  I 
hardly  count.  It  is  caused  by  light  soil  forming  in 
the  gullet ;  wash  the  soil  away  and  the  thirst  goes 
with  it :  this  can  be  done  with  water,  which  you  do 
not  even  need  to  swallow. 

The  desert  thirst  is  more  legitimately  so  called :  it 
arises  from  the  grilling  sun  on  the  sand,  from  the 
dancing  glare,  and  from  hard  riding  therein.  This 
is  not  an  unpleasant  thirst :  the  sweat  evaporates  on 
your  face  in  the  wind  of  your  own  galloping,  and 
thereby  produces  a  grateful  coolness  without,  while 
throat  and  gullet  are  white-hot  within.  The  desert 
thirst  consists  in  this  contrast :  it  can  be  satisfied  by  a 
gulp  or  two  of  really  cool  water  which  has  also  been 
evaporating  through  a  canvas  bottle  slung  on  your 
saddle. 

But  in  so  far  as  it  can  be  satisfied,  it  is  no  true 
Sudan  thirst.  The  true  Sudan  thirst  is  insatiable. 
The  true  Sudan  thirst — which,  to  be  sure,  may  be 
found  in  combination  with  either  or  both  of  the 
others,  and  generally  is — is  born  of  sheer  heat  and 
sheer  sweat.  Till  you  have  felt  it,  you  have  not 
thirsted.  Every  drop  of  liquid  is  wrung  out  of  your 
body:  you  could  swim  in  your  clothes;  but,  inside, 
your  muscle  shrinks  to  dry  sponge,  your  bones  to  dry 


200  THE  PATHOLOGY   OF  THIRST. 

pith.  All  your  strength,  your  substance,  your  self  is 
draining  out  of  you ;  you  are  conscious  of  a  perpetual 
liquefaction  and  evaporation  of  good  solid  you.  You 
must  be  wetted  till  you  soften  and  swell  to  life  again. 

You  are  wetted.  You  pour  in  wet,  and  your  self 
sucks  it  in  and  swells — and  then  instantly  it  gushes 
out  again  at  every  pore,  and  the  self  contracts  and  wilts. 
You  swill  in  more,  and  out  it  bubbles  before  you  even 
feel  your  inside  take  it  up.  More — and  your  pores 
swish  in  spate  like  the  very  Atbara.  Useless:  you 
must  give  it  up,  and  let  the  goodness  sluice  out  of 
you.  There  is  nothing  of  you  left;  you  are  a  mere 
vacuum  of  thirst.  And  that  goes  on  from  three  hours 
after  sunrise  till  an  hour  before  sundown. 

You  must  not  think  that  we  are  idle  all  this  while 
— not  even  correspondents.  The  real  exercise  of  your- 
self and  your  ponies  you  have  begun  before  breakfast, 
and  intend  to  continue  after  tea.  For  the  rest,  at  Fort 
Atbara,  you  can  go  down  to  the  railway  station.  If 
there  is  a  train  there,  there  will  be  troops  getting  out 
of  it ;  if  there  is  not,  you  can  ask  when  one  is  expected, 
and  read  chalked  on  a  notice-board  the  latest  bulletin 
of  the  health  of  every  engine  on  the  road  between  there 
and  Haifa.  On  the  platform,  too,  is  the  post-office.  You 
can  ask  when  the  next  post  goes  out  or  comes  in :  the 
dirty  Copt  boy  they  call  postmaster  will  answer,  "  To- 
morrow." The  postal  service  is  not  good  at  Fort  Atbara. 
They  say  the  Sirdar  does  not  allow  it  room  enough; 
as  the  room  he  does  allow  is  entirely  filled  with  the 


HARD  WORK  AND   NO   REST.  201 

angarebs  of  the  officials,  and  as  they  seldom  arise  from 
them,  there  is  doubtless  much  justice  in  the  complaint. 

There  are  other  diversions  for  the  correspondent  in  the 
heat  of  the  day.  He  may  walk  in  the  nuzl,  or  station 
yard.  Nuzl  is  the  Arabic  for  a  place  where  things  are 
dumped  down — and  dumped  down  in  this  nuzl  they 
certainly  are.  Streets  and  streets  and  streets  of  them, 
— here  a  case  of  pepper,  there  the  spare  wheel  of  a  gun, 
there  jars  of  rum,  there  piles  of  Eemington  rifles  for 
issue  to  more  or  less  friendly  tribes — everything  that 
an  army  should  or  would  or  could  want.  There  you  see 
the  men  who  do  the  real  hard  work  of  the  army — not 
the  men  who  work  hard  and  then  rest,  but  the  men  who 
work  hard  and  never  rest — the  Director  of  the  "Water 
Transport,  the  Staff  Officer  for  Supplies  and  Stores,  the 
Director  of  Telegraphs.  And  there,  with  the  hardest 
worked,  you  see  the  tall  white-clad  Sirdar  working — 
now  breaking  a  man's  heart  with  curt  censure,  now 
exalting  him  to  heaven  with  curt  praise.  Now  ante- 
dating a  movement,  now  hastening  an  embarkation, 
now  increasing  the  load  of  a  barge — for  where  the 
Sirdar  is  there  every  man  and  every  machine  must 
do  a  little  better  than  his  best. 

All  this  you  may  see,  and  sweat,  between  the  hour 
before  sunrise  and  the  hour  before  sunset.  It  goes 
on  always,  but  usually  after  sunset  you  look  at  it  no 
more. 

For  then  the  Sudan  thirst  has  spent  itself  and  it  is 
at  your  mercy.     You  begin  with  a  bombardment  of 


202  THE   PATHOLOGY   OF   THIRST. 

hot  tea.  The  thirst  thinks  its  conquest  assured ;  it 
takes  the  hot  tea  for  a  signal  of  surrender,  and  hurls 
the  first  cup  arrogantly  out  again  through  your  skin. 
You  fire  in  the  second  cup — and  you  find  that  you 
have  gained  some  ground.  It  may  be  that  tea  is  nearer 
the  temperature  of  your  body  than  a  merely  tepid 
drink ;  it  may  be  some  divine  virtue  in  the  herb ;  but 
you  feel  the  second  cup  of  tea  settle  within  you. 
You  feel  yourself  a  degree  less  torrid,  a  shade  more 
substantial. 

If  you  are  wise  you  will  rest  content  for  the  moment 
with  this  advantage.  Order  your  pony  and  gallop  an 
hour  in  the  desert.  You  will  sweat,  of  course;  you 
need  not  expect  to  escape  that  at  any  time.  But  the 
sweat  cools  off  you,  and  you  ride  in  with  a  fresh  skin. 
Take  your  tub  in  your  tent :  the  Nile  cools  faster  than 
the  land,  and  oh  the  deliciousness  of  the  cold  water 
licking  round  you ! 

Now  comes  the  sweet  revenge  for  all  the  torments 
of  the  day.  It  is  quite  dark  by  now,  unless  the  moon  be 
up,  leaning  to  you  out  of  a  tender  blue  immensity,  silver, 
caressing,  cool.  Or  else  the  sprightly  candles  beckon 
from  your  dinner-table,  spread  outside  the  tent,  a  halo 
of  light  and  white  in  the  blackness,  alert,  inviting, 
cool.  You,  too,  by  now  are  clean  and  cool.  You 
quite  forget  whether  the  day  was  more  than  warm 
or  no. 

But  you  remember  the  thirst.  You  are  cool,  but 
within  you  are  still  dry,  very  dry  and  shrunken.     Take 


THE  MOMENT   OF   THE   DAY.  203 

a  long  mug  and  think  well  what  you  will  have  poured 
into  it ;  for  this  is  the  moment  of  the  day,  the  moment 
that  pays  for  the  Sudan.  You  are  very  thirsty,  and 
you  are  about  to  slake  your  thirst.  Let  it  be  alcoholic, 
for  you  have  exuded  much  life  in  the  day ;  let  it  above 
all  be  long.  Whisky-and-soda  is  a  friend  that  never 
fails  you,  but  better  still  something  tonic.  Gin  and 
soda  ?  Gin  and  lime-juice  and  soda  ?  Gin  and  bitters 
and  lime-juice  and  soda  ?  or  else  that  triumphant 
blend  of  all  whetting  flavours,  an  Abu  Hamed — gin, 
vermouth,  Angostura,  lime-juice,  soda  ? 

Mix  it  in  due  proportions ;  put  in  especially  plenty 
of  soda — and  then  drink.  For  this  is  to  drink  indeed. 
The  others  were  only  flushing  your  body  with  liquid 
as  you  might  flush  a  drain.  But  this  !  This  splashes 
round  your  throat,  slides  softly  down  your  gullet  till 
you  feel  it  run  out  into  your  stomach.  It  spreads 
blessedly  through  body  and  spirit  —  not  swirling 
through,  like  the  Atbara,  but  irrigating,  like  the  Nile. 
It  is  soil  in  the  sand,  substance  in  the  void,  life  in 
death.  Your  sap  runs  again,  your  biltong  muscles 
take  on  elasticity,  your  mummy  bones  toughen.  Your 
self  has  sprung  up  alive,  and  you  almost  think  you 
know  how  it  feels  to  rise  from  the  dead. 

Thenceforward  the  Sudan  is  a  sensuous  paradise. 
There  is  nothing  like  that  first  driuk  after  sunset,  but 
you  are  only  half  irrigated  yet:  the  first  drink  at 
dinner — yes,  and  the  second  and  the  culminating 
whisky-and-soda — can  give   rich  moments.      Then 


204  THE   PATIIOLOGV   OF  THIRST. 

your  angareb  stands  ready,  the  sky  is  your  bed- 
chamber, and  the  breath  of  the  desert  on  your  cheek 
is  your  good-night  kiss.  To-morrow  you  will  begin  to 
sweat  again  as  you  ride  before  breakfast.  To-morrow 
— to-night  even — there  may  be  a  dust-storm,  and  you 
will  wake  up  with  all  your  delicious  moistness  furred 
over  by  sand.     But  that  is  to-morrow. 

For  to-night  you  have  thirsted  and  you  have  drunk. 
And  to-morrow  will  have  an  evening  also. 


205 


XXVI. 

BY  ROAD,    RIVER,   AND   RAIL. 

Gradually  Fort  Atbara  transformed  itself  from  an 
Egyptian  camp  to  a  British. 

Parts  of  the  Fourth  Egyptian  Brigade  came  in  from 
the  north,  but  started  south  again  almost  immediately. 
The  steamers  which  had  taken  up  the  blacks  began 
to  drop  down  to  the  Atbara ;  as  soon  as  they  tied  up, 
new  battalions  were  packed  into  them,  and  they 
thudded  up-river  again. 

Of  the  four  battalions  of  Collinson  Bey's  command, 
the  1st  left  in  detachments  on  August  8,  and  the  first 
instalment  of  the  17th  had  preceded  them  on  August 
7.  Three  companies  of  the  5th,  with  a  company  of 
camel  corps,  reached  Berber  from  Suakim  on  August 
3 ;  they  had  marched  the  288  miles  of  desert  in  fifteen 
days.  This  was  the  record  for  marching  troops,  and 
it  is  not  likely  that  anybody  but  Egyptians  will  ever 
lower  it.  One  day,  after  a  thirty-mile  stage,  the  half- 
battalion  arrived  at  a  well  and  found  it  dry.  The 
next  was  thirty  miles  farther.     Straightway  the  men 


206  BY   ROAD,   RIVER,   AXD   RAIL. 

got  up  and  made  their  march  sixty  miles  before  they 
camped.  They  say  that  when,  as  here,  native  officers 
are  in  command  of  a  desert  march,  they  put  most  of 
their  men  on  the  baggage-camels :  no  doubt  they  do, 
but  the  great  thing  is  that  the  troops  get  there. 

The  oth  joined  its  other  half  in  Berber  and  marched 
in  to  Fort  Atbara  on  August  6 ;  on  August  7  it  was 
packed  into  steamers  and  sent  up  to  Wad  Habashi. 
On  August  9  arrived  the  first  half  of  the  newly-raised 
18th  and  two  companies  of  the  17th.  These  had  been 
pulling  steamers  and  native  boats  up  from  Merawi; 
they  too  had  broken  a  record,  doing  in  twenty  days 
what  last  year  had  taken  twenty-six  at  the  least  and 
forty  at  the  most.  Among  their  steamers  was  the 
luckless  Teb,  which  had  run  into  a  rock  just  before 
Dongola,  and  in  '97  had  turned  turtle  in  the  Fourth 
Cataract.  The  Sirdar  had  now  taken  the  precaution 
of  renaming  her  the  Hafir. 

The  four  steamers  had,  of  course,  arrived  days  be- 
fore, and  were  already  broken  to  harness.  The  g}  assas 
were  still  behind,  fighting  with  the  prevailing  south 
wind ;  between  Abu  Hamed  and  Abeidieh  the  trees 
on  the  bank  were  sunk  under  the  flood,  so  that  it  was 
almost  impossible  to  tow.  One  day  the  wind  would 
be  northerly,  and  that  day  the  boats  would  sail  forty 
miles ;  the  next  it  would  be  dead  contrary,  and, 
sweating  from  four  in  the  morning  to  ten  at  night, 
they  would  make  five.  But  it  had  to  be  done,  and  it 
was  done.     The  first  arrivals  of  the  17th  and  18th 


THE   CAMP   BECOMES   BKITISH.  207 

were  picked  up  by  train  south  of  Abu  Hamed;  on 
August  11th  and  13th  the  rest  came  in  to  find  their 
comrades  already  gone.  This  completed  the  Fourth 
Brigade,  and  with  its  completion  the  whole  strength 
of  the  Egyptian  army  was  at  the  Atbara  or  forward. 

So  that  the  camp  became  British.  The  two  halves 
of  the  Rifle  Brigade,  the  first  half  of  the  Guards,  and 
the  32nd  Battery  had  come  up  on  successive  days; 
after  that  there  was  a  lull.  But  on  August  9  we  had 
an  exciting  day— exciting,  at  least,  by  the  standard  of 
Fort  Atbara.  Late  the  night  before  had  come  the 
balance  of  the  British  artillery— the  37th  Field  Bat- 
tery, with  six  howitzers,  a  detachment  of  the  16th 
Company,  Eastern  Division,  Garrison  Artillery,  with 
two  40-pounders,  and  a  detachment  of  the  Eoyal  Irish 
Fusiliers,  with  four  Maxims. 

They  were  getting  the  40-pounders  into  position  for 
shipment  on  the  bank.  All  gunners  are  fine  men,  and 
garrison  gunners  are  the  finest  men  of  all  gunners ; 
these  were  pushing  and  pulling  their  ungainly  dar- 
lings in  the  tire-deep  sand  as  if  they  were  a  couple  of 
perambulators.  They  are  old  guns,  these  40-pounders ; 
their  short  barrels  tell  you  that.  They  were  in  their 
second  decade  when  they  first  came  to  Egypt  in  1882, 
and,  once  in  Khartum,  they  are  like  to  spend  the  rest 
of  their  lives  there.  But  for  the  present  they  were 
the  heaviest  guns  with  the  force,  and  they  must  be 
nursed  and  cockered  till  they  had  knocked  a  hole  or 
two  in  the  Khalifa's  wall.     So  the  gunners  had  laid 


208  BY   ROAD,  RIVER,   AND   RAIL. 

out  ropes,  and  now  solid  figures  in  grey  flannel  shirts, 
khaki  trousers,  and  green-yellow  putties  —  braces 
swinging  from  their  waists,  according  to  the  ritual  of 
cavalry  and  gunners  and  all  men  who  tend  beasts — 
were  hammering  away  at  their  pegs  and  establishing 
their  capstan  with  which  the  enormous  babies  were  to 
be  lowered  into  their  boats.  Before  they  breakfasted 
all  was  in  order ;  before  they  dined  the  guns  were  in 
the  boats  specially  made  to  take  them ;  before  they 
supped  they  were  well  on  the  waterway  to  Khartum. 

The  Irish  Fusiliers  were  picked  from  a  fine  regiment 
which  had  very  hard  luck  in  not  being  brought  up  in 
the  Second  Brigade.  Set  faces,  heavy  moustaches, 
necks  like  bulls,  the  score  or  so  of  men  were  the 
admiration  of  the  whole  camp.  But  most  curiosity 
went  naturally  to  the  howitzers.  They  were  hauling 
them  out  of  the  trucks  when  I  got  down — little  tubby 
5-inch  creatures,  in  jackets  like  a  Maxim's,  on  car- 
riages like  a  field-gun's,  carriage  and  gun-jacket  alike 
painted  pea-soup  colour.  The  two  trucks  full  of  them 
were  backed  up  to  a  little  sand  platform ;  the  gun- 
ners wheeled  out  gun  and  limber  and  limbered  up ;  a 
crowd  of  Egyptians  seized  hold,  and  —  hallah  hoh ! 
hallah  hoh  ! — they  tugged  away  with  them.  The  cry 
of  the  Egyptian  when  doing  combined  work  is  more 
like  that  of  Briinnhilde  and  her  sisters  in  the  "Wal- 
kiire"  than  any  civilised  noise  I  can  remember  to 
have  heard. 

The  howitzers  were  to  fire  a  charge  of  lyddite  whose 


ARRIVAL  OF   THE   GUARDS.  209 

bursting  power  is  equal  to  80  lb.  of  gunpowder. 
"With  a  very  high  trajectory  the  effect  would  be  some- 
thing like  that  of  bombs  dropped  from  a  balloon. 
Lyddite  appears  to  be  an  impartial  as  well  as  an  ener- 
getic explosive ;  if  you  stand  within  800  yards  behind 
it,  it  is  as  like  as  not  to  throw  back  a  bit  of  shell  into 
your  eye ;  after  which  you  will  use  no  other.  When 
they  tried  it  in  Cairo  at  knocking  down  a  wall,  it  did 
indeed  knock  down  a  good  deal  of  it,  but  left  a  good 
deal  standing.  That,  however,  was  because  percussion 
fuses  were  used ;  the  delay  fuses  were  all  sent  up  the 
Nile.  By  delaying  the  explosion  the  smallest  fraction 
of  a  second,  till  the  shell  has  penetrated,  its  devilish- 
ness,  they  trusted,  would  be  increased  a  hundredfold. 
This  was  lyddite's  first  appearance  in  war:  we  all 
looked  forward  to  it  with  keen  anticipation.  The 
further  forward  I  looked,  personally,  the  better  I 
should  be  pleased. 

On  the  afternoon  of  this  same  less-uneventful-than- 
usual  9th,  a  train  snorted  in  with  the  second  four 
companies  of  the  Guards.  The  Guards  paraded  in 
their  barrack  square  fill  the  beholder  with  admiration, 
tempered  with  a  sense  of  his  own  unworthiness ; 
emerging  from  roofed  trucks  they  were  less  imposing. 
Of  course  it  was  the  worst  possible  moment  to  see 
them,  and  the  impression  formed  was  less  good  than 
that  of  other  corps.  Falling  in  beside  the  train  they 
were  certainly  taller  than  the  average  British  soldier, 
but  hardly  better  built.  They  were  mostly  young, 
.         ..  0 


210         BY  ROAD,  RIVER,  AND  RAIL. 

mostly  pale  or  blotchy,  and  their  back  pads — did  you 
know  before  that  it  was  possible  to  get  sunstroke  in 
the  spine? — were  sticking  out  all  over  them  at  the 
grotesquest  angles.  Many  of  the  officers  wore  thick 
blue  goggles,  and  their  back  pads  were  a  trifle  restive 
too.  The  half-battalion  marched  limply.  Only  re- 
member that  they  had  hardly  stretched  their  legs  since 
they  embarked  at  Gibraltar  just  three  weeks  before. 
The  wonder  was  that  they  could  march  at  all. 

A  very  different  show  was  that  of  the  10th,  when 
the  first  half  of  the  Northumberland  Fusiliers  came 
in.  To  be  sure,  they  appeared  with  advantages.  The 
Guards'  band  played  in  three  companies,  and  you 
do  not  know  how  a  band  drives  out  limpness  until 
you  have  tried.  But  allowing  for  that,  the  5th  still 
made  a  very  fine  entry.  The  men  were  not  tall,  but 
they  were  big  round  the  chest,  and  averaged  nearly 
six  years'  service.  They  swung  up  in  a  column  of 
dust  with  their  stride  long,  heads  up,  shoulders  squared, 
soldiers  all  over.  The  officers  were  long-limbed,  firmly 
knit,  straight  as  lances.  There  are  not  many  more 
pleasing  sights  in  the  world  than  the  young  British 
subaltern  marching  alongside  his  company,  his  long 
legs  moderating  their  stride  to  the  pace  of  the  laden 
men,  his  wide  blue  eyes  looking  steadily  forward, 
curious  of  the  untried  future,  confident  in  the  tradi- 
tions of  his  service  and  his  race.  From  the  look  of 
the  5th  Fusiliers  you  might  guess  with  safety  that 


ONE   MOKE   LSCAKNATION.  211 

the  young  soldier's  confidence  was  not  likely  to  be 
abashed. 

So  that  now  the  camp  was  all  but  English.  A  few 
Egyptians  remained  behind,  indispensable  for  fatigues. 
But  the  Northumberland  men  were  working  away  at 
their  ammunition  and  baggage  all  the  next  morning, 
Tommy  lugging  at  the  camel's  head-rope  and  adjuring 
him  to  "  Come  on,  ol'  man,"  and  the  old  man,  unac- 
customed to  friendly  language,  only  snarling  the  more 
devilishly  and  tipping  his  load  on  to  the  sand.  But 
Tommy  had  his  revenge  when  he  rode  back  to  the 
station  for  another  load;  the  baggage-camel  had  to 
trot,  which  he  had  never  done  before  except  to  escape 
being  saddled. 

Englishmen  working  with  camels,  squads  of  shirt- 
sleeved  Englishmen  tramping  to  and  fro  on  fatigues, 
Englishmen  putting  up  hospital -tents,  forty  or  fifty 
Englishmen  with  mild  sun-fever  in  hospital,  English 
bands,  the  crisp  voice  of  the  English  sergeant,  above 
all,  silver-throated  English  bugles — reveille  waking  the 
dawn  and  last  post  floating  up  the  silent  night — Eort 
Atbara  had  seen  one  more  incarnation. 


212 


XXVII. 

THE   LAST   OF   FORT   ATBARA. 

Thus  at  Fort  Atbara  we  sat,  and  sat,  and  sat.  When 
there  were  any  troops  to  see,  coming  in  or  going  out, 
we  went  to  see  them.  When  there  were  not,  we 
galloped  about  in  the  desert,  ate,  drank,  slept,  and 
generally  fulfilled  the  whole  duty  of  correspondents. 
Why  did  you  not  make  a  dash  for  the  front?  the 
guileless  editor  will  ask.  But  the  modern  war 
correspondent  is  not  allowed  to  make  unauthorised 
dashes,  and  the  man  who  should  commend  the  claims 
of  his  newspaper  by  slapping  a  British  General's  face 
would  righteously  be  shot. 

Besides,  there  was  no  front  to  speak  of  worth 
dashing  for.  The  camp  at  Wad  Habashi,  we  heard, 
had  been  encroached  on  by  the  ever-rising  Nile,  and 
it  had  been  moved  four  miles  up-stream  to  a  spot 
in  full  view  of  the  gorge  of  Shabluka.  A  Bimbashi 
of  cavalry,  who  returned  thence  one  day,  pronounced 
the  scenery  finer  than  anything  in  Switzerland ;  but 
then  you  must  remember  that  since  seeing  Switzer- 


TWO   SOFT  BATTALIONS.  213 

land  he  had  seen  the  desert  railway  and  Berber  and 
Fort  Atbara  and  all  the  other  dry  dead  levels  of 
the  blank  Sudan.  More  practical  was  the  news  that 
as  yet  there  had  been  only  one  storm  of  rain  with 
thunder  and  lightning.  At  Fort  Atbara  we  had 
cloudy  days  and  rainy  sunsets,  whereas  in  the  spring 
we  had  never  seen  anything  but  hard  blue  for 
weeks  together.  On  the  whole,  too,  it  was  cooler : 
115°  in  the  shade  on  one  or  two  clear  afternoons, 
but  often  not  so  much  as  100°  all  day.  And  the 
farther  south  you  went,  they  said,  the  cooler  it  be- 
came. 

Indeed,  the  nearer  we  actually  got  to  the  beginning 
of  operations,  the  softer  task  the  expedition  seemed. 
The  only  people  who  did  not  seem  to  find  it  so  were 
the  two  battalions  that  had  the  softest  task  of  all — 
the  Eifles  and  the  Guards.  These  came  into  hospital 
in  dozens.  Both  regiments  had  a  bad  reputation 
for  going  sick — the  Eifles  because  they  are  mostly 
cockneys  without  constitutions,  the  Guards  because 
they  are  too  much  pampered.  Anyhow,  they  de- 
veloped more  sickness  between  them  in  a  week  than 
the  whole  of  the  First  Brigade.  Their  failure  to 
stand  the  sun  and  the  dust-storms  was  not  for  want 
of  officers'  example — certainly  in  the  Eifles,  whose 
officers  were  keen  sportsmen,  riding  out  to  stalk 
gazelle  after  lunch  on  the  hottest  afternoons.  It  was 
not  for  want  of  amusement,  as  amusement  goes  in 
standing  camp,  for  the  Eifles  were  alive  with  vocal 


214         THE  LAST  OF  FORT  ATBARA. 

talent.  Almost  every  night,  drifting  down  from  their 
camp,  you  might  hear  the  familiar  chorale — 

Jolly  good  song,  jolly  well  sung, 
Jolly  good  comrades  ev-ery  one. 
11'  you  can  beat  it  you're  welcome  to  try; 
Always  remember  the  singer  is  dry. 
Soop ! 

The  Rifles  were  keeping  their  spirits  up,  and  they 
were  as  smart  and  keen  as  you  could  wish.  But  they 
were  not  acclimatised,  nor  were  the  Guards,  so  that 
they  sent  nearly  a  hundred  cases — mostly  mild  sun- 
fever — into  hospital  in  a  week. 

The  first  squadron  of  the  21st  Lancers — they  were 
travelling  as  three  squadrons  to  be  re-formed  into  four 
in  the  field — arrived  on  the  11th.  The  second  half  of 
the  5th  Fusiliers  came  in  on  the  13th.  Everything 
seemed  strolling  on  satisfactorily  and  sleepily.  Then 
suddenly  the  Sirdar  aroused  us  with  one  of  his  light- 
ning movements.  You  will  have  formed  an  idea  of 
the  sort  of  man  he  is — all  patience  for  a  month,  all 
swiftness  when  the  day  comes.  The  day  came  on 
August  13.  At  eleven  I  saw  him,  grave  as  always, 
gracious  and  courteous,  volunteering  facilities.  At 
noon  he  was  gone  up  the  river  to  the  front. 

The  waiting,  the  sudden  start,  the  caution  that 
breathed  no  word  of  his  intention,  yet  dictated  an 
official  explanation  of  his  departure  before  he  left — it 
was  the  Sirdar  all  over.      And  with  his  departure 


THE   SIBDAR'S   IDIOSYNCRASY.  215 

Fort  Atbara  took  on  yet  another  metempsychosis. 
It  became  all  at  once  the  deserted  base -camp,  a 
caravanserai  for  reinforcements,  a  forwarding  dapot 
for  stores.  True,  most  of  the  staff  remained — nobody 
pretending  to  know  what  had  taken  the  Sirdar  away 
so  astonishingly,  unless  it  was  merely  his  idiosyncrasy 
of  sudden  and  rapid  movement.  If  anybody  had 
been  told  any  other  reason,  it  was  just  the  man  or 
two  that  would  not  tell  again. 

But  curiosity  is  a  tactless  futility  when  you  have 
to  do  with  generals.  It  was  enough  that  the  advance 
had  come  with  a  rush.  The  detachments  of  the  17th 
and  18th  Egyptian,  sitting  about  on  the  bank  till 
steamers  arrived  to  let  them  complete  the  brigade, 
disappeared  magically  in  the  Sirdar's  wake.  With 
them  went  their  Brigadier,  Collinson  Bey.  On  that 
same  evening  the  leading  steamers  passed  up  with 
parts  of  the  First  British  Brigade  from  Darmali. 
Four  days'  voyage  to  below  Shabluka  and  then  they 
would  come  down  in  one  day  for  the  Second.  Then 
we  should  be  complete  and  ready  for  Omdurman. 

Meanwhile  there  was  hardly  a  fighting  man  in  Fort 
Atbara.  The  three  battalions  of  the  Second  Brigade 
were  in  camp  just  south  of  it,  on  the  Atbara.  The 
first  third  of  the  Lancers  were  across  the  river ;  the 
second  came  in  on  the  afternoon  of  the  14th.  It 
wanted  only  the  third  squadron  and  the  Lancashire 
Fusiliers  to  complete  the  force.  The  cavalry  was 
to    start    on    the    16th   with   every   kind    of  riding 


216         THE  LAST  OF  FORT  ATBARA. 

and  baggage  animal  to  march  up,  and  the  more 
able-bodied  of  the  correspondents  were  going  with 
them. 

So  on  the  torrid  Sunday  morning  of  the  14th  we 
filled  the  empty  fort  with  a  dress  rehearsal  of  camels. 
In  the  Atbara  campaign  I  had  been  part  of  a  mess  of 
three  with  nine  camels :  now  it  was  a  mess  of  four 
with  twenty.  We  marched  them  all  up  solemnly 
after  breakfast  and  computed  how  much  of  our  multi- 
tudinous baggage  would  go  on  to  them.  Fourteen  of 
them  were  hired  camels:  a  hired  camel  is  cheaper 
than  a  bought  one,  but  it  generally  has  smallpox, 
carries  much  less  weight,  and  is  a  deal  lengthier  to 
load. 

The  twenty  gurgling  monstrosities  sat  themselves 
down  on  the  sand  and  threw  up  their  chins  with  the 
camel's  ineffable  affectation  of  elegance.  The  men  cast 
a  deliberate  look  round  and  remarked,  "  The  baggage 
is  much  and  the  camels  are  few."  Next  they  brought 
out  rotten  nets  of  rope  and  slung  it  round  the  boxes 
and  sacks.  That  is  to  say,  one  man  slung  it  round 
one  box  and  the  others  stood  statuesque  about  him 
and  suggested  difficulties.  That  done,  the  second  man 
took  up  the  wondrous  tale,  then  the  third,  then  the 
fourth.  This  took  about  two  hours.  Then  they  sug- 
gested that  a  camel  could  not  without  danger  to  its 
health  carry  more  than  two  dozen  of  whisky,  whereas 
anything  worthy  the  name  of  a  camel  can  carry  four 
hundredweight.      Altogether   they   made   some    fifty 


PREPARING  FOR  TARDY  VENGEANCE.     217 

camel  -  loads  of  the  stuff.  And  when  we  said  we 
wouldn't  have  it,  all  the  men  stood  round  and  gabbled, 
and  half  the  camels  girned  and  gnashed  their  teeth, 
and  the  neighbouring  donkeys  lifted  up  their  voices 
and  brayed  like  souls  in  torment,  and  when  you  moved 
to  repulse  an  importunate  Arab  you  kicked  a  com- 
paratively innocent  camel.  Allah  was  their  witness 
that  the  camels — which,  when  we  hired  them  two 
days  before,  were  very  strong — were  very  weak. 

But  little  we  cared.  We  were  going  up  to  Omdurman 
and  Khartum.  Camel -loads  adjust  themselves,  but 
war  and  the  Sirdar  wait  for  nobody.  We  were  march- 
ing into  lands  where  few  Englishmen  had  ever  set 
heel,  no  Englishman  for  fifteen  years.  We  were 
to  be  present  at  the  tardy  vengeance  for  a  great 
humiliation. 


218 


XXVIII. 

THE  DESERT   MAECH   TO   OMDURMAN. 

The  column  was  to  move  out  of  camp  at  five  in  the 
morning.  But  at  half-past,  when  our  tardy  caravan 
filed  up  to  join  it,  dim  bulks  still  heaved  themselves 
up  in  the  yellow  smoke,  half-sunrise,  half-dust-cloud 
— masses  of  laden  camels,  strings  of  led  horses  pro- 
claiming that  the  clumsy  tail  of  our  convoy  was  still 
unwinding  itself.  Threading  the  patchy  mimosa  scrub, 
we  came  out  into  a  stretch  of  open  sand ;  beyond 
it,  straight,  regular,  ominous  of  civilisation,  appeared 
the  telegraph  wire  which  crosses  the  Nile  at  Fort 
Atbara,  and  now  ran  on  to  beyond  Metemmeh. 

In  two  black  bars  across  the  sand,  as  straight  as 
the  wire  itself,  the  flat  rays  of  sunrise  shadowed  the 
21st  Lancers.  Two  travelling  or  nearly  three  cam- 
paigning squadrons,  they  were  the  first  British  cavalry 
in  the  Sudan  since  1885.  On  their  side  it  was  their 
first  appearance  in  war.  They  were  relatively  a  young 
regiment,  and  the  only  one  in  the  British  army  which 


A   LECTURE  IN   CAVALRY.  219 

has  never  been  on  active  service.     You  may  imagine 
whether  they  were  backward  to  come. 

To  tell  truth,  at  this  first  glimpse  of  British  cav- 
alry in  the  field,  they  looked  less  like  horsemen  than 
Christmas-trees.  The  row  of  tilted  lances,  the  swincj 
of  heavy  men  in  the  saddle  when  they  moved,  was 
war  and  chivalry.  The  rest  was  picketing  pegs 
lashed  to  carbines,  feeds  of  corn  hanging  from  sad- 
dles, canvas  buckets  opposite  them,  waterproofs  behind, 
bulky  holsters  in  front,  bundles  of  this  thing  and  that 
dangling  here  and  there,  water-bottles  in  nets  under 
the  horses'  bellies,  khaki  neck  screens  flapping  from 
helmets,  and  blue  gauze  veils  hooding  helmets  and 
heads  and  all.  The  smallest  Syrian — they  had  left 
their  own  big  hungry  chargers  in  Cairo — had  to  carry 
18  stone;  with  a  heavy  man  the  weight  was  well 
over  20. 

But  though  each  man  carried  a  bazaar,  the  impres- 
sion of  clumsiness  lasted  only  a  moment. 

When  they  moved  they  rode  forward  solidly  yet 
briskly, — weighty  and  light  at  the  same  time,  each 
man  carrying  all  he  wanted  as  behoves  men  going  to 
live  in  an  enemy's  country.  The  sight  was  a  better 
lecture  in  cavalry  than  many  text-books.  It  is  not 
the  weapons  that  make  the  cavalryman  you  saw,  but 
the  mobility ;  not  the  gallop,  but  the  long,  long  walk ; 
not  the  lance  he  charges  with,  but  the  horse  that 
carries  him  far  and  fast  to  see  his  enemy  in  front  and 
screen  his  friends  behind.     So  much  if  you  wished  to 


220  THE  DESERT   MARCH   TO   OMDURMAN. 

theorise ;  if  it  was  enough  merely  to  look  and  listen, 
there  was  a  fine  piquancy  in  the  great  headpiece,  the 
raking  lance,  all  the  swinging  apparatus  of  the  free- 
booter— and  then,  inside  the  casque,  a   round-faced 
English  boy,  and  the  reflection,  "  If  I  was  to  go  and 
see  my  brother  now,  as  keeps  a  brewery,  it'd  be  just 
right."     Masterpiece  of  under-statement,  more  telling 
than  a  score  of  superlatives— "just  right!"     But  we 
must  not  hurry  on  too  fast.     Before  the  cavalry  were 
well  observed,  before  even  thirst  became  appealing,  it 
was  necessary  to  wait  for  the  whole  force — column, 
or  convoy,  or  circus,  or  whatever  is  the  technical  name 
for  it— to  form  up  in  the  open.     By  degrees  it  did. 
Leading,  the  cavalry  with  its  scouts   and  advanced 
guard  and  flanking  parties.     Then  a  line  of  tarbushes 
on  grey  horses— Egyptian  gun-teams,  and  with  them 
a  couple  of  Maxims  scoring  the  desert  with  the  first 
ruts  of  all  its  immemorial  years.     Then  a  ragged  line 
of  khaki  and  helmets,  of  blue  and  crimson  and  gold 
and  green  turbans  and  embroidered  waistcoats — the 
officers'   chargers   and   transport   mules   of   the    two 
British  brigades  some  with  soldier-grooms,  some  with 
Berberi  syces.     Is  not  the  waistcoat  of  the  groom  the 
same  radiant  marvel  whether  he  be  of  Newmarket  or 
Kalabsheh?      Likewise   there   were    British   Maxim 
mules  and  the  miscellaneous  donkeys  of  all  the  army. 
Lastly,  lolloping  their  apathetic  two  and  a  half  miles  an 
hour,  the  baggage  camels  lumbered  up  the  plain — well- 
furnished  Government  beasts,  with  new  sound  saddles 


THE  NILE  -  METEMMEH  TO  KHARTUM 


A  NOAH'S  ARK.  221 

and  little  sun-bonnet  pads  over  forehead  and  pate; 
scraggier  private  camels  with  boxes  of  stores  and 
green  trunks  and  baths;  starveling,  hired  camels 
banging  whisky  cases  against  their  bare  ribs.  Add 
to  all  a  few  goats  already  trailing  stiff  legs  behind 
them,  a  few  sheep  trampling  their  little  flesh  into 
whipcord,  a  drove  of  brindled  bulls  at  the  same  task 
— and  you  have  the  caravan. 

Every  four-footed  beast  that  was  to  go  to  Khartum 
— saving  only  one- third  of  the  21st  troop  horses — 
must  march  with  this  convoy  or  not  at  all.  Every 
man  that  went  with  it  went  simply  as  in  charge  of 
a  beast;  every  man  was  supposed  to  ride,  and  the 
marches  were  cut  out  at  nearly  twenty  miles  a-day. 
Horses,  mules,  donkeys,  sheep,  goats,  oxen,  camels — 
the  monstrous  caravan  sprawled  over  the  desert,  jost- 
ling and  swaying  and  bumping,  jerking  off  in  dif- 
ferent directions  at  different  rates,  neighing  and  low- 
ing and  braying  and  bleating  and  grunting, — Military 
Tournament,  Lord  Mayor's  Show,  Sanger's  Circus,  and 
Noah's  Ark  all  jammed  into  one.  Then  the  multitud- 
inous chaos  straightened  itself  for  a  second,  swayed, 
crooked  itself  again,  and  began  to  totter  towards 
Khartum. 

We  tottered  for  five  hours  through  sparse  camel- 
thorn,  over  ground  mostly  once  flooded  or  once  rained 
on,  a  sieve  of  lurking  holes.  By  that  time  many 
thought  we  should  be  near  the  end  of  the  thirteen  miles 
which  was  our  day's  ration,  and  T,  who  had  idiotically 


222  THE   DESERT   MARCH   TO   OMDURMAN. 

started  without  breakfast,  wished  that  I  had  never 
seen  a  horse  or  the  Sudan  or  the  light  of  day.  At 
last,  when  it  was  getting  on  for  one,  the  head  of  the 
column — by  now  a  reeling  ruin  —  turned  Nile  ward. 
We  shook  up  our  horses  and  licked  our  split  lips. 
Then  we  issued  on  to  an  old  cotton-field — dry  stalks, 
and  between  them  the  earth  wrinkled  with  foot-deep 
cracks  as  close-grained  as  the  back  of  your  hand. 
The  cracks  were  just  big  enough  for  a  horse  to  break 
his  leg  in,  and  the  islands  between  were  just  big 
enough  to  collapse  into  the  cracks  when  a  horse  put 
his  foot  on  them.  Over  this  we  crawled  timidly  till 
we  came  to  a  shallow  yellow-ochre  puddle.  There 
we  learned  that  this  was  our  water,  and  the  cracks 
were  our  camp. 

The  cracks  proved  full  of  scorpions,  and  the  respec- 
tive legs  of  your  table  or  angareb  inclined  themselves 
at  angles  of  45°  to  the  horizontal  and  to  each  other. 
However,  we  pretended  we  were  at  sea  going  home 
again,  and  consumed  tinned  spiced  beef  and  peaches 
and  beer — may  I  never  want  a  meal  more  or  deserve 
it  less  ! — and  slept.  The  feature  of  next  day's  march 
was  a  new  form  of  vegetation  —  a  bush  with  leaves 
something  like  those  of  a  canariensis,  and  really  green, 
a  phenomenon  hitherto  not  met  in  the  Sudan.  And 
whether  we  marched  twenty-two  miles  that  day  as 
was  intended,  or  thirty-two  as  was  asserted,  or  some- 
thing in  between  as  was  concluded,  I  do  not  know 
nor  then  cared :    at  eight  I  had  called  up  a  camel, 


THE   VAGARIES   OF   THE  NILE.  223 

and  breakfasted  on  tinned  spiced  beef  and  peaches 
and  beer. 

But  the  important  point  that  emerged  was  this :  the 
unusually  high  and  ever-rising  Nile  flood  was  playing 
the  very  deuce  with  us.  The  river  was  pushing  up 
what  they  call  "  khors  " — broad,  shallow  depressions 
which  look  like  tributaries,  only  whose  water  runs 
the  wrong  way.  These  planted  themselves  across  the 
track,  and  we  had  to  fetch  circuits  round  them.  This 
second  day  we  arrived  at  a  second  puddle,  which  was 
a  second  khor,  and  watered  there.  But  the  distressing 
point  in  the  situation  was  that  the  force  was  to  draw 
rations  and  forage  every  second  day  from  depots  on 
the  bank.  This  was  the  second  day,  and  the  depot 
was  duly  on  the  bank ;  only  the  khor  had  flooded  up 
in  between.  The  Lancers  had  watered  their  horses, 
and  fed  them — and  then  they  had  to  saddle  up  at  four 
or  so,  and  file  off  round  the  khor  three  miles  to  get 
their  rations.  Some  of  the  mules  had  not  yet  come 
in;  without  even  off- saddling  they  had  to  follow; 
which  made  a  march  of  nearly  twelve  hours  on  end. 

You  could  not  blame  anybody  for  the  vagaries  of 
the  Nile,  but  it  was  natural  that  somebody  would 
suffer  from  them.  Already  at  the  first  halting-place 
four  Egyptians  carried  in  a  comrade  in  a  blanket  with 
a  rude  splint  on  his  leg.  The  same  day  a  trooper  of 
the  Lancers  went  down.  He  had  been  advised  not  to 
try  the  Sudan  sun  at  all,  but  insisted  on  his  chance 
of   service :    after   this   first  march  he  just  got  his 


224  THE  DESERT  MARCH   TO   OMDURMAN. 

horse  watered  and  fed,  and  then  dropped  insensible 
with  sunstroke.  He  was  but  just  conscious  next 
morning.  Tour  Egyptian  gunners  carried  him  on  an 
upturned  angareb  to  Kitiab,  the  second  halting-place. 
Here  he  was  left  with  others.  Next  day  and  the 
next  there  were  others. 

The  horses,  too,  suffered.  Those  of  the  squadron 
which  came  up  first,  and  the  horses  from  Darmali 
and  Essillem,  stood  the  marching  almost  perfectly. 
Those  which  had  started  to  tramp  the  morning  after 
the  rail-river  journey  went  down  with  fever  in  the 
feet.  Twelve  days'  standing  had  sent  all  the  blood  to 
their  feet ;  the  red-hot  sand  did  the  rest. 

We  left  a  dozen  on  the  shore  at  Kitiab  to  be  picked 
up  by  a  passing  boat,  if  so  it  might  befall.  The  third 
day  we  marched  on  through  a  park-like  country,  thick 
with  tall,  spreading,  almost  green  mimosa-trees;  in 
one  place,  where  a  khor  lapped  up,  if  sand  were  grass 
you  might  almost  have  cried  "  The  Serpentine."  We 
camped  at  a  ruined  village  on  a  sandhill — name  un- 
known and  uncared — and  for  the  first  time  saw  the 
Nile,  which  we  were  supposed  to  be  drinking.  He 
was  lying  at  the  far  end  of  a  three-mile  tangle  of 
bush.  The  fourth  day,  guided  by  the  brown-faced 
cliffs  on  his  farther  bank,  we  came  down  on  the 
pleasantest  camp  I  had  yet  seen  on  Nile  or  Atbara — 
Magawieh.  There  was  no  village  but  mud  ruins  ;  but 
there  were  clusters  and  groves  of  real  palms — date- 
palms  with  yellow  and  scarlet  clusters  of  ripe  fruit. 


THE  RETURN  OF  THE  NATIVE.         225 

We  sat  down  on  the  very  lip  of  the  river,  which  came 
up  flush  with  the  grass  bank,  like  a  full  tide.  And 
there,  on  August  20,  we  halted  to  rest  the  horses. 
Half-a-dozen  were  sent  down  with  fever  in  the  feet ; 
also  a  few  soldiers,  some  bad,  some  not  so  bad  as  they 
said.  The  rest  of  •  us  were  very  hard  and  sound  by 
now,  with  the  skin  well  peeled  off  our  noses. 

By  now  we  had  marched  about  halfway  to  Wad 
Habashi.  And  of  population  we  had  seen  hardly  a 
soul.  Ruined  villages  we  passed  in  plenty — so  far 
back  from  the  river  that  they  must  have  lived  from 
wells.  Now,  since  Mahmud  killed  out  the  Jaalin,  they 
did  not  live  at  all.  We  found  evidences  of  some  poor 
prosperity — the  dry  runnels  of  old  irrigation,  the  little 
chequers  of  old  fields,  old,  round,  mud  granaries,  old 
crackling  zaribas,  old  houses  rocking  on  their  mud 
foundations,  old  bones  white  in  the  sun.  All  the  rest 
was  killed  out  by  the  despot  we  were  marching  to  try 
to  kill.  The  fighting  force  of  the  Jaalin  was  ahead 
of  us  on  the  same  errand,  and  with  two  more  motives 
— revenge  and  loot.  Behind  us  straggled  the  return- 
ing families — one  man  with  a  spear,  a  bevy  of  plum- 
bloom  girls  and  old  women  and  infants  on  doukeys, 
a  goat  or  two  for  sole  sustenance.  They  were  re- 
turning; their  ruins  were  their  own  again. 


226 


XXIX. 


METEMMEH. 


"  Goom  ! "  The  hideous  cry  broke  on  to  the  night, 
and  jarred  on  the  white  stars.  "  Mohammed !  Ali ! 
Hassan  !  Goom,  goom  ! "  I  sat  up  on  my  angareb  and 
groaned.  Do  not  be  frightened;  "goom"  is  not  the 
cry  of  a  beast  of  prey.  It  is  worse ;  it  is  the  Arabic 
for  "Wake,"  and  it  was  three  in  the  morning.  We 
were  moving  out  of  our  pleasant  palm  -  shade  at 
Magawieh  on  August  21,  and  taking  the  road  south 
again. 

The  clumsy  column  formed  up  after  its  clumsy 
wont,  and  threaded  sleepily  desertward  through  the 
mimosa-thorns.  After  a  few  minutes  we  came,  to  our 
wonder,  on  to  a  broad  flat  road  embanked  at  each  side. 
It  could  hardly  have  been  built  by  scorpions,  and  there 
were  no  other  visible  inhabitants.  Then,  at  a  corner, 
we  came  to  a  sign-post  —  a  sign-post,  by  all  that's 
astounding — with  "To  Metemmeli"  inscribed  there- 
on. We  learned  afterwards  that  the  fertile-minded 
Hickman    Bey,    finding    himself    and    his    battalion 


THE   MASSACEE   OF   THE   JAALIN.  227 

woodcutting  in  the  neighbourhood,  had  used  up 
some  of  his  spare  energy  and  of  his  men's  spare 
muscle  in  making  the  road  and  setting  up  the  sign, 
the  only  one  in  the  Sudan.  At  the  time  the  thing 
was  like  meeting  an  old  friend  after  a  long  parting, 
and  the  caravan  set  out  at  least  half  a  mile  an  hour 
the  better  for  it. 

We  trudged  through  the  sand  and  scrub  for  the  best 
part  of  five  hours.  Then  suddenly  it  sank  and  died 
away.  "We  had  noticed  already  more  than  the  usual 
number  of  mummied  camels  and  donkeys  by  the  road- 
side. The  sun  had  tanned  the  skin  and  bleached  the 
bones ;  hawks  and  vultures  had  seen  to  the  rest ;  they 
might  have  been  lying  there  days  or  years.  The 
camels  lay  with  their  heads  writhed  back  till  the 
ears  brushed  the  hump,  the  attitude  in  which  a 
camel  always  dies.  But  all  the  donkeys  had  their 
throats  cut  —  and  that  told  us  we  were  reaching 
Metemmeh. 

Last  year,  about  this  time  or  a  little  earlier,  the 
main  force  of  the  Egyptian  army  lay  at  Merawi, 
preparing  to  advance  on  Abu  Hamed.  The  Khalifa 
ordered  the  Jaalin  to  advance  against  it ;  but  the 
Jaalin  had  been  in  the  fore  -  front  of  every  dervish 
disaster  since  Abu  Klea,  and  they  sent  secretly  to 
the  Sirdar  for  arms.  But  it  was  too  late,  and 
Mahmud  fell  upon  the  Jaalin  as  Hunter  fell  upon 
Abu  Hamed.  They  fought  hard,  but  Mahmud  had 
too   many  rifles    for    them.       Metemmeh  was    made 


228  METEMMEH. 

even  as  Khartum  and  old  Berber ;  the  branch  of 
Jaalin  whose  headquarters  were  Metemmeh  was 
blotted  out  of  existence.  The  carcasses  we  saw  were 
the  beasts  that  had  dropped  or  been  overtaken  in 
their  flight. 

The  scrub  sank  and  died  away.  We  came  on  to  a 
bare  level  of  old  cultivated  land,  sparsely  dotted  with 
dry  twigs,  seamed  with  rents  and  holes,  and  covered 
thick  with  bones.  Bones,  skulls,  and  hides  of  camels, 
oxen,  horses,  asses,  sheep,  goats — the  place  was  car- 
peted with  them,  a  very  Golgotha.  A  sickening  smell 
came  into  the  air,  a  smell  heavy  with  blood  and  fat. 
We  off-saddled  at  a  solitary  clump  of  tall  palms  on  the 
bank,  turned  round,  and  across  a  mile  of  treeless  desola- 
tion saw  a  forlorn  line  of  black  mud  wall.  The  look 
of  the  wall  alone  was  somehow  enough  to  tell  you 
there  was  nobody  inside.  That  was  the  corpse  of 
Metemmeh. 

Before  we  went  in  we  looked  at  the  forts  and 
trenches  with  which  they  had  lined  the  bank  against 
the  gunboats.  It  was  to  be  presumed  that  they  had 
done  the  same  at  Omdurman,  so  we  looked  at  them 
out  of  more  than  idle  curiosity.  They  were  rude 
enough,  to  be  sure.  Circular,  of  some  120  feet  radius, 
the  torts  were  mud  emplacements  for  a  single  gun  with 
three  embrasures  looking  to  front,  half  right  and  half 
left;  the  guns — captured  since  at  the  Atbara — could 
only  be  fired  as  they  bore  on  a  boat  in  line  with  one  of 
these.     Yet,  rough  and  crumbling  as  they  were,  it  was 


mahmud's  camp.  229 

plain  that  the  boats'  fire  had  done  them  little  harm. 
The  embrasures  were  chipped  about  a  good  deal, 
and  with  very  accurate  shooting  anybody  trying  to 
serve  the  guns  would  probably  have  gone  down. 
But  the  mud  work  could  shelter  any  man  who 
sat  close  enough  under  it,  and  common  shell  or  even 
shrapnel  would  do  him  little  harm.  The  trenches 
were  not  wholly  contemptible  either — deep  and  with 
traverses. 

The  next  thing  was  to  ride  over  to  Mahmud's  old 
camp.  He  had  placed  it  behind  the  ridge  on  which 
Metemmeh  stands,  in  the  open  desert  and  out  of 
range,  as  he  thought,  of  the  boats;  the  time-fuse  of 
a  12|-pounder  shell,  picked  up  in  the  very  centre  of 
the  camp,  seemed  to  suggest  a  subsequent  disillusion- 
ment. As  you  rode  up  you  first  saw  nothing  but  four 
mud  huts.  Then  the  soil  looked  redder  than  that  of 
the  desert  behind  it ;  presently  you  saw  that  it  had 
been  turned  up  in  shallow  heaps ;  the  place  looked 
like  a  native  cemetery.  And  when  we  got  a  little 
nearer  we  found  that  this  was  his  fortified  camp.  One 
of  the  huts  appeared  to  have  been  his  dwelling-house ; 
another  was  a  sort  of  casemate — mud  walls  4  feet 
thick  and  an  arrangement  of  logs  that  looked  as  if  it 
had  been  meant  as  a  stockade  to  shield  riflemen. 
But  the  rest  of  the  position  was  merely  childish — as 
planless  as  his  zariba  on  the  Atbara,  without  any  of 
its  difficulties.  It  was  just  a  number  of  shelter- 
trenches  scattered  anyhow  over  the  open  sand.     Some 


230  METEMMEH. 

could  have  held  twenty  men,  some  two.  They  must 
have  spread  over  nearly  a  square  mile,  but  they  were 
quite  rare  and  discontinuous  ;  in  the  circle  of  the  camp 
there  was  about  twice  as  much  firm  ground  as  trench. 
Add  that  the  whole  could  have  been  shelled  from  the 
Metemnieh  ridge  at  half  a  mile  or  so,  and  that  you 
could  thence  have  seen  almost  every  man  in  the  place 
— well,  if  Omdurman  was  to  be  no  harder  nut  than 
this 

Now  turn  back  to  Metemmeh — poor,  blind-walled, 
dead  Metemmeh.  And  first,  between  camp  and  town, 
stand  a  couple  of  crutched  uprights  and  a  cross-bar. 
You  wonder  what,  for  a  moment,  and  then  wonder 
that  you  wondered.  A  gallows !  At  the  foot  of  it  a 
few  strands  of  the  brown  palm  -  fibre  rope  they  use 
in  this  country,  and  one,  two,  four,  six,  eight  human 
jaw-bones.  Just  the  jaw  -  bones,  and  again  you 
wonder  why ;  till  you  remember  the  story  that  when 
Sheikh  Ibrahim,  of  the  Jaalin,  came  here  a  week 
or  two  ago  he  found  eight  skulls  under  the  gallows 
in  a  rope  -  netting  bag.  When  he  took  them  up 
for  burial  the  lower  jaws  dropped  off,  and  lie  here 
still. 

If  the  jaws  could  wag  in  speech  again — but  we  must 
try  not  to  be  sentimental.  If  we  are,  we  shall  hardly 
stand  the  inside  of  Metemmeh.  So  blank  and  piteous 
and  empty  is  the  husk  of  it.  These  are  not  mere  mud 
hovels,  but  town  houses  as  the  Sudan  understands 
houses — mud,  certainly,  but  large,  lofty  rooms  with 


STILLNESS   AND   STENCH.  231 

wide  window-holes  and  what  once  were  matting  roofs. 
Two  that  I  went  into  were  even  double-storied  ;  no 
stairs,  of  course,  but  a  sort  of  mud  inclined  plane 
outside  the  walls  leading  to  the  upper  rooms.  Another 
house  had  a  broad  mud-bank  forming  a  divan  round 
its  chief  room.  Now  the  beams  were  cracked  and 
broken,  and  the  divan  had  been  rained  on  through 
the  broken  roof ;  shreds  of  what  once  may  have 
been  hangings  were  dangling  limply  in  the  breeze. 
At  the  gateway  of  this  house  —  once  an  arch,  now 
a  tumble  of  dry  mud  —  was  a  black  handful  of  a 
woman's  hair. 

In  every  courtyard  you  see  the  miserable  emblems 
of  panic  and  massacre.  Eide  through  the  gate — there 
lies  a  calabash  tossed  aside ;  a  soiled,  red,  peak-toed 
slipper  dropped  from  the  foot  that  durst  not  stop  to 
pick  it  up  again  ;  the  broken  sticks  and  decayed  cords 
of  a  new  angareb  that  the  butchers  smashed  because 
it  was  not  worth  taking  away.  And  in  every  court- 
yard you  see  great  patches  of  black  ashes  spreading 
up  the  wall.  Those  monuments  are  recent ;  they  are 
the  places  where,  only  days  ago,  they  burned  the 
bones  of  the  Jaalin.  The  dead  camels  and  donkeys 
lie  there  yet,  across  every  lane,  dry,  but  still  stinking. 
A  parrot-beaked  hairy  tarantula  scrambles  across  the 
path,  a  lizard's  tail  slides  deeper  into  a  hole;  that 
is  all  the  life  of  Metemmeh.  Everything  steeped  in 
the  shaddess  sun,  everything  dry  and  silent,  silent. 
The  stillness  and  the  stench  merge  together  and  soak 


232  METEMMEH. 

into  your  soul,  exuding  from  every  foot  of  this  melan- 
choly graveyard  —  the  cenotaph  of  a  whole  tribe, 
fifteen  years  of  the  Sudan's  history  read  in  an  hour. 
Sun,  squalor,  stink,  and  blood:  that  is  Mahdism. 

Press  your  bridle  on  the  drooping  pony's  neck; 
turn  and  ride  back  to  the  river,  the  palms,  and  the 
lances.     God  send  he  stays  to  fight  ua. 


233 


TYT. 

A  correspondent's  diary. 

Wad  Hamed,  Aug.  22. —  The  concentration  of  the 
force  here  is  all  but  complete. 

The  British  regiments  have  all  arrived,  whole  or 
in  part,  with  the  exception  of  the  Eifles  and  the 
21st  Lancers,  of  whom  two  squadrons  are  marching 
by  the  road.  They  are  expected  at  mid -day  to- 
morrow. 

With  almost  the  full  strength  of  the  Egyptian 
army  added,  the  force  is  the  largest  ever  seen  in 
the  Sudan,  the  composition  of  every  arm  being  at 
least  half  as  strong  again  as  at  the  Atbara. 

The  cavalry  and  the  convoy  are  going  very  well 
now.  The  beasts  and  men  are  hardened  by  marching, 
which  is  an  invaluable  training.  We  came  twenty- 
five  miles  to-day  in  one  march  without  effort. 

Wad,  Hamed,  Aug.  23. —  The  camp  here  is  both 
compact  and  commodious.  Though  there  are  but 
little  short  of  20,000  men,  in  a  zareba  barely  more 


234  A  correspondent's  diary. 

than  a  mile  long,  nobody  is  crowded,  and  everywhere 
there  is  easy  access  to  water. 

The  blacks  are  encamped  at  the  south  end  in  ter- 
races of  straw  huts ;  nexfc  are  the  Egyptians  under 
shelters  extemporised  from  their  blankets;  at  the 
north  end  the  British  are  installed  in  tents.  Their 
quarters  are  far  more  comfortable  than  at  Atbara, 
though  officers  and  men  have  to  sleep  in  their  boots 
for  the  sake  of  practice. 

There  is  but  little  shade  from  the  trees,  but  the 
camp  is  covered  with  tufts  of  coarse  yellow  grass, 
which  keep  down  the  dust. 

The  steamers  lying  along  the  shore,  the  guns,  horses, 
mules,  and  camels,  the  bugle-calls,  and  the  cries  in 
English  and  Arabic,  make  up  a  little  world  full  of 
life  in  the  desert. 

The  concentration  will  not  actually  be  effected  here 
as  General  Hunter,  with  two  Egyptian  brigades,  will 
march  to-morrow  to  Hajir  at  the  head  of  the  Shab- 
luka  cataract,  where  there  will  be  a  new  concentra- 
tion within  a  few  days.  He  will  be  followed  in  the 
evening  by  his  other  two  brigades,  which  will  march 
to  various  points  up  the  river,  and  cut  wood  for  the 
steamers  ascending  the  rapids. 

The  Lancers  will  arrive  here  this  evening,  and  the 
Rifles  will  come  probably  by  boat  early  to-morrow. 
The  force  will  then  be  complete.  There  was  an  im- 
posing parade  of  the  forces  here  this  morning.  The 
1st,  2nd,   3rd,  and  4th   Egyptian   Brigades   and  the 


A  SUDAN   STOKM.  235 

2nd  and  1st  British  Brigades  paraded  in  the  above 
order,  counting  from  the  right.  The  force  advanced 
in  columns  of  companies,  then  turned  half-right  on 
the  extreme  right  brigade.  It  was  difficult  to  get 
a  full  impression  of  the  manoeuvres  in  consequence 
of  the  dust. 

News  from  Omdurman  is  abundant,  and  recon- 
naissances show  that  the  top  of  the  Shabluka  cat- 
aract is  definitely  abandoned.  It  is  rumoured  that 
the  Khalifa  intends  to  meet  our  force  in  the  open ; 
but  this  story,  as  the  story  of  the  blowing-up  of  the 
Khalifa's  steamer  in  an  attempt  to  lay  a  mine,  must 
be  taken  with  the  greatest  caution.  The  Khalifa 
probably  does  not  know  his  own  intentions  yet. 

The  Egyptian  troops  and  the  seasoned  British  bri- 
gade are  in  splendid  condition.  The  2nd  British 
Brigade  is  naturally  not  so  inured  to  the  climate. 
Everybody  is  straining  on  the  tiptoe  of  expectation. 

Wad  Hamed,  Aug.  S4-  {J/,  p.m.) — Last  night  brought 
us  the  best  storm  of  the  season. 

It  began,  as  its  way  is,  savagely  and  without  a 
second's  warning. 

A  flicker  of  silver  lightning,  a  bloated  drop  of  rain, 
then  the  wind  rushed  down  snorting  and  tearing  at 
the  tent-ropes  like  an  angry  stallion. 

It  tore  up  the  tents,  and  left  them  flapping  in 
agony,  while  the  rain  came  down  and  completed  the 
conquest  by  drenching  our  kits  at  its  leisure. 


236  a  correspondent's  diary. 

What  was  worse,  the  gyassa,  laden  with  stores  and 
spare  kits,  belonging  to  an  Egyptian  battalion  which 
was  just  about  to  start  forward,  was  blown  clean 
over,  and  everything  shot  into  the  river. 

At  daylight  you  could  see  the  disconsolate  fatigue- 
party,  which  was  left  behind  to  tow  the  gyassa, 
wearily  salvaging,  with  chocolate  legs  naked  be- 
low the  waist,  but  with  irreproachable  uniform 
above. 

The  lightning  flared  and  the  wind  bombarded  us 
till  the  morning,  when  we  reaped  one  consolation — 
the  dust  was  all  gone,  except  that  which  had  formed 
layers  on  our  faces. 

The  morning  was  grey,  gusty,  and  nipping;  it 
might  have  been  a  summer  morning  at  home. 

General  Hunter  left  this  morning  at  daybreak,  with 
the  1st  and  3rd  Egyptian  Brigades,  for  Hajir,  a  two 
days'  march  for  them. 

The  2nd  and  4th  Brigades  followed  this  after- 
noon. 

If  the  rain  had  soaked  their  kits,  at  least  it  afforded 
cool,  clean  going. 

The  baggage  of  the  Egyptian  Infantry  started  in 
gyassas  up  the  Sixth  Cataract  early  this  morning. 

The  second  half  of  the  Rifles  and  the  Irish  Fusi- 
liers' Maxim  detachment  arrived  during  the  night, 
completing  the  British  division. 

The  cavalry  and  guns  will  leave  to-morrow,  the 
forty-pounders  and  the  howitzers  going  by  water. 


THE   DESEllTED    CAMP.  237 

The  staff  will  follow,  and  then,  as  the  Sirdar  says, 
"We  shall  be  in  the  straight." 

Wad  Hamed,  Aug.  25  (#  p.m.) — Eumours  from 
Omdurman  continue  to  add  vastly  to  the  eager  curi- 
osity wherewith  we  advance  to  lift  the  veil  from 
Khartum. 

A  trustworthy  report  asserts  that  Ali  Wad  Helu, 
the  Mahdi's  second  Khalifa  and  titular  heir  to  the 
present  ruler,  has  fallen  from  his  horse  while  drilling 
the  dervish  cavalry,  and  suffered  severe  injuries. 

This,  if  true,  presumably  delights  the  Khalifa,  who 
is  jealous  of  Helu,  but  will  tend  to  discourage  the 
superstitious  Sudanese,  who  hold  that  a  fall  from  a 
horse  when  entering  on  an  enterprise  is  the  worst  of 
omens. 

Yesterday  morning  this  camp  was  the  most  popu- 
lous centre  in  the  Sudan  after  Omdurman.  This 
afternoon  it  is  all  but  raw  scrub  again. 

Out  of  the  tangle  of  yellow  halfa-grass  the  Sirdar's 
tent  rises  like  an  island,  and  except  for  the  head- 
quarters and  the  artillery  and  cavalry  in  the  extreme 
north,  the  camp  is  completely  deserted. 

The  Egyptian  infantry  division,  which  left  yesterday 
morning,  should  reach  Hajir — officially  called  Gebel 
Boy  an — to-day. 

The  2nd  British  Brigade  left  here  at  daybreak  this 
morning,  and  the  1st  follows  this  afternoon. 

The  Kifles  are  remaining  with  detachments  of  other 


238  A   CORRESPOXDENTS   DIARY. 

battalions  delayed  on  the  journey  up ;  they  will  prob- 
ably proceed  to  Gebel  Royan  by  boat,  doing  the  dis- 
tance in  one  day  instead  of  two. 

Perhaps  even  more  striking  than  the  disappearance 
of  the  troops  is  the  diminution  of  the  vast  accumula- 
tion of  supplies  and  stores. 

The  little  town  of  casts  and  sacks  has  had  street 
after  street  lifted  away  and  sent  up  to  Shabluka. 

Seeing  the  process  thus  in  miniature,  we  can  ap- 
proach an  adequate  idea  of  the  labour,  promptness,  and 
system  which  brought  all  the  necessaries  for  25,000 
men  from  Atbara,  Merawi,  Haifa,  Egypt,  and  England 
without  a  break  or  hitch. 

Last  night  the  whole  upward  course  of  the  river 
was  fringed  with  the  taper  spars  of  the  gyassas,  and 
festooned  with  the  smoke  from  the  camp-fires  of  the 
towing-parties. 

Everything  has  gone  on  in  proper  time  and  proper 
order,  and  the  weight  of  the  material  shifted  is 
enormous. 

Multiply  all  this  a  hundredfold,  and  you  appreciate 
the  standing  miracle  of  Egyptian  transport. 

Wad  Earned,  Aug.  #5  (6  p.m.)— The  march  out  of 
the  1st  British  Brigade  this  afternoon  was  a  most 
imposing  spectacle. 

The  four  battalions  had  all  their  baggage  packed  to 
the  minute,  and  at  the  sound  of  the  bugle  moved  off 
and  took  the  road  in  four  parallel  columns. 


A  MAGNIFICENT  BRIGADE.  239 

The  Warwicks  were  on  the  left;  next  to  them 
the  Seaforths,  then  the  Camerons,  and  on  the  right 
the  Lincolns  —  the  three  last  carrying  battalion 
flags,  a  new  element  of  colour  since  the  Atbara 
campaign. 

The  ground  just  outside  the  camp  was  broken,  but 
the  men  struck  along  with  an  easy  swing  from  the 
loins,  ignoring  the  weight  of  their  kits. 

Many  of  the  men  were  bearded,  and  all  were 
tanned  by  the  sun,  acclimatised  by  a  summer  in  the 
country,  hardened  by  perpetual  labours,  and  con- 
fident from  the  recollection  of  victory — a  magnifi- 
cent force,  which  any  man  might  be  proud  to 
accompany  into  the  field. 

Wad  Earned,  Aug.  26  {11.^5  a.m.)  —  The  camp 
this  morning  shows  even  an  emptier  desolation  than 
yesterday. 

At  the  north  end  the  Lancers  are  disembarking 
their  last  horses,  preparatory  to  the  march  to  Hajir 
to-morrow,  the  gunners  are  readying  the  40-pounders 
and  howitzers  for  the  steam-up  to-day,  the  rest  of 
the  artillery  marches. 

The  medical  staff  is  just  leaving,  having  sent  the 
sick  down  to  Nasri  yesterday. 

The  rest  of  the  camp  is  a  wilderness  of  broken 
biscuit-boxes  and  battered  jam-tins,  dotted  with  the 
half-naked  Jaalin  scallywags,  male  and  female,  once 
the  richest  slave-dealers  in  the  Sudan,  now  glad  to 


240  A   CORRESPONDENT'S   DIARY. 

collect  empty  bottles  and  winnow  the  dust  for  broken 
biscuit. 

With  the  departure  of  headquarters  to  -  morrow 
the  whole  force  will  have  shifted  camp  to  Hajir. 

Thence  it  is  under  forty  miles  to  Omdurman. 

For  the  first  half  of  the  distance  the  bank  is  flat 
with  cultivation. 

On  nearing  Kerreri,  the  ground  becomes  broken 
with  thick  low  thorn  scrub. 

Thence  to  Omdurman  rises  a  cluster  of  sandstone 
hills  inland,  300  feet  to  500  feet  high. 

In  the  present  state  of  the  Nile  the  river  forms 
numerous  khors,  or  small  tributaries,  flowing  out 
instead  of  into  the  river,  and  many  such  on  approach- 
ing Omdurman  will  perhaps  necessitate  detours  on  the 
line  of  march. 

To  the  north-west  of  the  town  there  is  rising  ground 
which  is  said  to  offer  a  favourable  artillery  position. 

Wad  ffamed,  Aug.  26  (240  p.m.)— Major  Stuart- 
Wortley,  who  went  up  to  Khartum  two  days  after 
Gordon's  death,  leaves  to-night  by  the  right  bank  with 
the  friendlies,  Jaalin  and  other  tribes. 

They  will  advance  parallel  with  the  Sirdar. 

It  is  reported  that  a  dervish  force  is  on  the  right 
bank,  under  the  Emirs  Zeki  and  Wad  Bishara. 

A  few  dervish  scouts  are  reported  on  this  bank, 
near  Gebel  Eoyan,  opposite  our  new  camp  and  depot 
also  patrols  on  the  left  bank. 


THE  KHALIFA'S  BLUNDER.  241 

The  Khalifa  blundered  heavily  when  he  abandoned 
the  Shabluka  rapids,  as  even  a  small  force  among  the 
rocks  might  have  been  troublesome,  whereas  now  the 
Sirdar  has  been  able  to  convey  all  his  transport  to  the 
open  water  above  without  pause. 

Gebel  Boy  an,  Aug.  28  (8.5  a.m.) — We  are  now 
within  four  marches  of  Khartum.  From  the  brown 
shoulder  of  Royan  mountain,  which  overlooks  and 
gives  its  name  to  the  camp,  you  can  see  long  stretches 
of  green  -  lipped  desert,  blinking  in  the  sun,  and 
cutting  the  blue  ribbon  of  open  water  to  Omdur- 
man. 

In  the  distance  hangs  a  white  speck  of  haze,  which 
may  be  the  Mahdi's  tomb. 

Yesterday  I  came  up  with  the  main  force. 

This  morning  it  has  gone  forward  again,  and  the 
four  marches  aie  becoming  three. 

General  Hunter,  with  the  Egyptian  Division,  began 
to  move  out  before  sunrise,  and  as  I  write  —  eight 
o'clock — their  last  drums  are  throbbing  faintly  in  the 
distance. 

The  Egyptian  cavalry,  horse  battery,  camel  corps, 
and  galloping  Maxims  had  preceded  them  before 
dawn. 

Cavalry  contact  with  the  dervishes  has  been  pos- 
sible at  any  moment  since  Friday. 

The  patrols  saw  a  few  dervish  horse,  who,  however, 
fell  back  rapidly,  lighting  alarm  beacons. 

Q 


242  A  correspondent's  diary. 

Spies  and  deserters  report  that  the  advanced  dervish 
force  is  near  Kerreri,  but  it  is  impossible  to  tell  at 
present  if  this  be  so. 

Hitherto  the  Dervishes  have  made  no  attempt  to 
raid  convoys  or  to  alarm  the  camp  by  night ;  they  are 
simply  fulling  back  on  the  main  positions. 

Everybody  observes  that  the  farther  you  advance 
into  their  country,  the  more  desirable,  or  rather  the 
less  undesirable,  it  becomes. 

I  marched  here  from  Wad  Hamed,  so  I  cannot 
depict  fully  the  beauties  of  the  Shabluka  cataract, 
but  I  have  seen  enough  from  above  and  below  and 
from  various  points  of  the  road  to  understand  how 
grateful  it  is  to  eyes  seared  with  burning  plains. 

The  rapids  are  gemmed  with  green  wooded  islands 
and  waist-high  bush  grass,  and  the  rocky  heights  on 
either  side  are  bathed  in  violet  by  the  morning  and 
evening  lights. 

At  the  gorge  the  cliffs  close  in,  and  the  river  nar- 
rows from  2000  to  200  yards. 

Here  are  dervish  forts,  three  on  the  left  bank  and 
one  on  the  right. 

They  are  now  flush  with  the  water,  which  is  actually 
running  into  the  embrasures. 

Having  had  to  march  with  the  artillery,  I  had  to 
content  myself  with  the  beauties  of  the  Maxim-Nor- 
denfeldt  gun. 

The  Egyptian  field  artillery  you  can  either  draw 
with  two  mules  or  take  the  pieces  and  carry  them  on 


A  GUNBOAT  LOST.  243 

four — a  vast  advantage,  as  shown  on  yesterday's  march, 
which  was  an  alternation  of  stones  and  wallowing 
sand. 

On  entering  the  camp  I  came  on  the  tail  of  the 
British  Division,  which  had  made  four  marches  of 
twenty  miles. 

The  Egyptians  took  two,  but  the  going  is  exception- 
ally bad ;  natives  and  British  alike  fell  out  somewhat 
freely. 

The  massed  black  bands  welcomed  the  British,  thun- 
dering out  the  march  past  of  each  of  the  regiments. 

The  Bifles,  though  soft,  were  commended  for 
smartness  in  marching,  as  were  the  Northumberland 
Fusiliers. 

The  flood  has  formed  a  khor  across  the  original 
camp,  and  the  British  are  in  detached  zariba  to  the 
southward,  which  is  lined  nightly  with  a  living  ram- 
part of  soldiers,  alert,  eager,  and  tingling  in  anticipa- 
tion of  a  fight. 

Gebel  Royan,  Aug.  28  (18.20  p.m.)— The  "  Zafir,"  the 
flagship  of  the  gunboat  flotilla,  Captain  Keppel,  with 
General  Pamdle,  chief  of  the  staff,  on  board,  sprang  a 
leak  the  day  before  yesterday  off  Shendi. 

The  boat  was  headed  for  the  shore,  but  sank  within 
a  few  yards  of  the  bank. 

Only  her  funnel  and  mast  are  above  water. 

The  barges  in  tow  were  cut  adrift,  and  everybody 
behaved  with  the  greatest  coolness, 


244  A  correspondent's  diary. 

Captain  Keppel  was  the  last  man  to  leave. 

All  lives  were  saved,  but  a  quantity  of  kit  was 
lost. 

Considering  that  the  navy  has  been  two  years  at 
work,  that  the  steamers  are  of  light  draught,  and  that 
there  is  a  tremendous  head  of  water  in  the  river,  it 
is  wonderful  that  this  is  the  first  serious  mishap. 

Everybody  sympathises  with  Captain  Keppel,  and 
deplores  this  stroke  of  bad  luck  at  the  end  of  months 
of  splendid  work. 

He  transfers  his  flag  to  the  Sultan. 

The  whole  force  advances  this  afternoon  about 
eight  miles. 

Wady  Abid,  Aug.  29  (S.40  a.m.) — The  whole  army 
is  camped  here,  the  British  division  having  left 
Royan  in  the  cool  of  the  evening  and  marching  in 
by  moonlight. 

The  camp  is  estimated  to  be  twenty-eight  miles 
from  Omdurman  and  eighteen  from  Kerreri,  where 
there  is  every  reason  to  believe  that  the  Dervishes 
are  collecting. 

The  army  will  halt  here  at  least  till  evening. 

Meanwhile  a  reconnaissance,  consisting  of  the 
Egyptian  cavalry,  with  the  Maxims  and  camel  corps, 
is  patrolling  ten  miles  to  the  southward,  and  a  gun- 
boat has  been  despatched  to  patrol  the  stream. 

A  dervish  patrol  of  ten  men  was  seen  yesterday 
evening.     It  fell  back. 


ANOTHER   STOKM.  245 

Deserters  are  now  beginning  to  arrive  in  swarms, 
and  a  sifting  of  their  reports  shows  that  it  may  be 
considered  certain  that  the  Dervishes  mean  to  fight. 

The  weather  till  now  has  been  magnificent,  and 
beyond  the  most  optimistic  expectations. 

The  heat  is  now  extreme  in  the  daytime,  but  the 
nights  are  cool  and  dry. 

This  morning  was  overcast,  and  there  were  furious 
gusts  of  wind  from  the  north-east,  which  are  supposed 
to  be  precursors  of  rain. 

So  far  we  have  had  only  three  rainstorms. 

Violent  and  tempestuous  weather  at  this  stage  might 
breed  discomfort  but  not  delay. 

The  correspondents  would  find  the  chief  disadvan- 
tage of  rain  in  the  possible  interruption  of  the  field 
telegraph,  which  has  been  brought  here,  and  will  prob- 
ably advance  farther,  though  it  is  only  poled  as  far  as 
Nasri  Island,  and  wet  ground  might  cause  a  break- 
down of  communications. 

10.15  a.m. — The  reconnaissance  has  returned,  hav- 
ing seen  only  a  few  fresh  tracks  of  dervish  horsemen, 
owing  to  the  dust  blown  off  the  alluvial  land  into  the 
desert  having  covered  up  their  traces. 

The  fewness  of  the  tracks  confirms  the  conjecture 
that  the  Dervishes  have  resolved  to  retire  to  ground 
of  their  own  choosing. 

The  cloudy  morning  turned  to  the  opaquest  dust- 
storm  of  recent  experience. 


246  A  correspondent's  diary. 

The  rushing  south  wind  swishes  through  the  camp, 
whirling  the  dust  of  the  old  cultivation  in  yellow 
clouds  before  it,  and  the  desert  outside  the  zariba 
forms  a  half-solid  curtain  of  flying  earth. 

Riding  round  the  camp  to-day,  the  dust  of  which 
clung  to  my  eyelashes  and  formed  dangling  screens 
of  accumulated  Sudan  before  my  eyes,  I  was  much 
struck  by  the  advantage  which  experience  in  cam- 
paigning here  gives  the  Egyptian  over  the  British 
troops. 

All  alike  are  under  blanket  shelters,  but  the 
Egyptians  rig  up  all  the  blankets  of  one  company 
into  a  continuous  shed  on  high  poles,  which  gives  an 
airy  shelter,  leaves  the  camping-ground  clearer,  and 
economises  blankets,  so  that  enough  are  left  to  hap 
round  the  rifles. 

The  British,  contrariwise,  fix  one  or  two  blankets 
on  low  sticks,  and  their  ground  is  less  thoroughly 
cleared  of  scrub  to  begin  with. 

Dotted  promiscuously  over  the  ground  are  tiny 
booths,  beneath  which  the  men  swelter,  with  the 
back  flaps  of  their  helmets  turned  over  their  faces 
to  screen  off  the  sun.  Even  through  the  veil  of 
dust  he  presses  on  to  the  blanket  so  close  that  the 
men  cannot  uncover  their  heads. 

This  is  not  a  white  man's  country. 

1.15  p.m. — There  is  abundant  evidence  that  the  spot 
where  we  are  now  camped  was  in  the  recent  occupa- 


KHARTUM    AND    OMDURMAN 


THE  MAZES  OF  THE  ARAB  MIND.        247 

tion  of  the  enemy — angarebs  and  women's  trinket- 
boxes  being  littered  all  over  the  place. 

The  Dervishes  are  almost  certainly  falling  back  be- 
fore us  on  to  positions  determined  beforehand,  where 
they  expect  advantage  from  scrub,  and  it  would  be  no 
surprise  here  if  a  decisive  battle  were  fought  some 
distance  north  of  Omdurman. 

The  Intelligence  Department  naturally  keeps  its  own 
counsel,  since  a  daily  interchange  of  spies  between  the 
hostile  headquarters  is  now  easy. 

It  is  safe  to  say  that  all  the  advantage  of  informa- 
tion is  on  our  side,  all  the  stories  of  the  deserters  being 
carefully  sifted  by  men  accustomed  to  thread  the  tor- 
tuous mazes  of  the  Arab  mind. 

The  Intelligence  Department  camp  is  to-day  strewn 
with  plum-coloured,  thin-cheeked  dervishes  squatting 
in  groups  on  the  ground  munching  biscuit,  the  first 
earnest  of  the  renewed  blessings  of  civilised  rule. 

It  must  not,  however,  be  inferred  from  this  that 
the  Khalifa's  trusted  fighting  men  are  deserting. 

These  are  so  detested  on  account  of  half  a  gen- 
eration of  barbarities  that  they  know  there  is  no 
asylum  left  them  in  all  Africa :  they  will  die 
resolutely. 

Wady  Abid,  Aug.  30  (9.4-0  a.m.) — We  are  again  on 
the  march,  the  army  advancing  ten  miles  to  Sayal — 
another  stride  towards  Omdurman. 

Major   Stuart -Wortley's   friendlies   have  captured 


248  A  correspondent's  diary. 

five  prisoners,  together  with  a  barge  laden  with  grain, 
after  a  brush  with  some  dervishes  on  the  right  bank 
of  the  Nile. 

During  the  storm  which  continues  to  rage  here 
the  British  outposts  last  night  heard  the  patter  of 
hoofs,  and  suddenly  a  dervish  horseman  rode  up, 
shouting  "Allah!"  and  hurled  his  spear  over  their 
heads ;  then,  wheeling  round,  he  galloped  away 
unhurt 


249 


XXXI. 

THE  RECONNAISSANCES. 

Keveille  at  four  had  forestalled  daybreak ;  at  five  we 
were  between  dawn  and  sunrise.  Inside  the  swarming 
zariba  of  camp  Sayal  impatient  bugles  were  hurrying 
whites  and  blacks  under  arms.  Outside  it  the  desert 
dust  threw  up  a  sooty  film  before  the  yellow  east ;  the 
cavalry  and  camel -corps  were  forming  up  for  the 
day's  reconnaissance.  Four  squadrons  of  British 
21st  Lancers  on  the  left,  nine  squadrons  of  Egyptian 
horsemen  on  the  right  with  the  horse  guns,  they 
trotted  jangling  into  broad  columns  of  troops,  and 
spread  fan-wise  over  the  desert. 

The  camel-corps  stayed  a  moment  to  practise  a  bit 
of  drill  of  their  own.  One  moment  they  were  a  huge 
oblong  phalanx  of  waving  necks  and  riders  silhouetted 
against  the  sunrise ;  a  couple  of  words  in  Turkish 
from  their  Bey  and  the  necks  were  waving  alone  with 
the  riders  in  a  square  round  them ;  an  instant  more 
and  camels  and  men  had  all  knelt  down.  The  camel- 
corps  was  a  flat  field  of  heads  end  humps  hedged  with 


250  THE   RECO.VN  \ISSANCES. 

a  shining  quickset  of  bayonets.  That  rehearsed,  they 
loped  away  to  the  extreme  right :  they  can  wait  longer 
for  their  water  than  the  horses,  so  that  their  portion  is 
always  the  outer  desert. 

One  instant  we  were  with  the  main  army  by  the 
zariba.  The  next — so  it  seemed  after  a  few  days  of 
marching  with  the  infantry-  -we  were  off  and  clear 
away.  The  screen  was  spread  far  out  before  the 
toiling  infantry,  and  the  enemy  who  would  harass 
or  even  look  at  them  must  slip  through  us  or  break 
us  if  he  could.  It  looked  little  enough  like  either. 
As  soon  as  our  scouts  were  off  the  country  was  full 
of  them. 

It  was  the  last  day  of  August — above  a  month  since 
the  first  battalions  had  left  the  Atbara,  two  days 
before  we  were  to  take  Omdurman,  and  the  first  shot 
of  the  campaign  was  yet  unfired.  But  before  us  rose 
cliff- like  from  the  river,  and  sloped  gently  down  to  the 
plain,  the  outline  of  Seg-el-Taib  hill ;  from  that  were 
only  a  dozen  miles  to  Kerreri;  from  Kerreri  were 
only  ten  to  Omdurman.  From  the  hill  we  should 
surely  see. 

So  hoofs  pattered,  and  curb-chains  jingled,  and  stir- 
rups rang,  and  behold  we  were  round  the  inland  base  of 
Seg-el-Taib  and  scrambling  up  its  shaly  rise.  From  the 
top  we  looked  out  at  the  ten-mile  reach  of  river  and  the 
hundred-mile  stretch  of  plain,  rejoicing  in  the  young 
sunlight.     On  our  left,  four  gunboats — two  white  of 


DERVISHES   AT   LAST!  251 

the  new  class,  two  black  of  the  old — trudged  deviously, 
slowly,  surely  up  under  the  right  bank.  Across 
the  shining  steel  ribbon  of  Nile  lay  a  vast  tangle  of 
green — only  a  fifth  funnel  and  Maxim-platforms  crawl- 
ing along  its  horizon  revealed  it  an  island.  On  our 
right,  the  brilliant  mimosa-scrub — in  this  rainy  coun- 
try mimosa  grows  real  leaves  and  the  leaves  are  green 
— stretched  forward  to  a  dim  double  hill,  a  saddle  in 
the  middle,  gentle  ridges  dipping  down  at  each  end  to 
river  and  desert.  At  our  feet,  round  a  sandy  creek, 
clustered  white  and  brown  cavalry  like  bees,  lances 
planted  in  the  sand,  men  bent  over  bits,  horses  down 
on  their  knees  for  the  water.  In  the  desert  a  slowly 
advancing  lozenge  under  a  cloud  of  dust  stood  for  the 
camel  corps.  Over  our  shoulders  a  black  tide  licked 
yet  more  slowly  southward ;  that  was  infantry  and 
guns.  Sun,  river,  birds,  green ;  grim,  stealthy  gun- 
boats and  that  awfully  advancing  host ;  it  combined 
into  the  most  heart- winning,  most  heart-quaking  pic- 
ture of  all  the  war. 

But  we  were  looking  for  somebody  to  kill.  Mud- 
walled  villages,  as  every  where,  fringed  the  river-bank; 
by  one  the  cavalry  were  watering ;  another  further  on 
focussed  the  landscape  with  the  conical-pointed  tomb 
of  some  sheikh  or  holy  man.  And — w!  i.t  ? — the 
glasses,  quick ! — yes,  by  George  it  is  !  One,  two, 
three,  four,  five — our  scouts  ?  impossible ;  there  are 
our  scouts  a  mile  this  side  of  them.     No  :  Dervishes — 


252  THE  RECONNAISSANCES. 

dervish  horse ;  the  first  sight  of  them,  for  me,  in  the 
campaign.  Dervish  horse  three  miles  this  side  of 
Kerreri. 

Stand  to  your  horses  !  Prepare  to  mount !  Mount ! 
This  time  the  plain  was  fuller,  the  jingling  merrier, 
the  bobbing  lance-points  more  alert  than  ever.  On 
and  on — a  troop  through  the  dense  bush,  a  couple  of 
squadrons  in  line  over  the  open  gravel,  scrambling 
through  a  rocky  rent  in  the  ground,  halting  to  breathe 
the  horses  and  signal  the  scouts — but  always  on  again. 
Always,  by  comparison  with  infantry,  we  seemed  to 
fly,  to  spread  out  by  magic,  to  leave  the  miles  behind 
us  in  a  flash. 

But  the  Dervishes  seemed  to  have  vanished,  as  their 
wont  is,  swallowed  up  by  dervish-land.  We  had  already 
passed  the  spot  chosen  for  the  night's  camp ;  we  were 
to  go  on  a  mile  or  two  beyond  "  to  make  it  good,"  as 
they  say.  At  last  we  halted.  "  We  shall  water  here," 
said  the  Colonel,  "  and  then  go  home."  Then  suddenly 
somebody  looked  forward  through  his  glasses.  "By 
Gad,  the  Gippy  cavalry  are  charging!" 

"  That's  not  the  Gippy  cavalry,"  sings  out  somebody 
else ;  "  that's  our  advanced  squadron."  Mount  and 
clatter  off  again.  I  didn't  see  them,  but  it  was  good 
enough  to  gallop  for ;  and  now,  sure  enough,  we  plunge 
through  the  mimosa  and  find  the  advanced  squadron 
pressing  on  furiously,  and  the  best  gentleman  rider 
in  the  army  with  a  dervish  lance  in  his  hand.  The 
squadron  found  them   in   the  bush,  and  galloped  at 


THE  LINES   OF  KEKRERI.  253 

them,  but  they  were  too  quick  away.  We  scrambled 
on,  round  that  bush,  down  and  up  that  gully,  and 
presently  came  out  again  into  a  rising  swell  of  gravel. 
And  there  were  the  lines  of  Kerreri. 

Behind  another  stretch  of  thicker  bush,  perhaps  a 
mile  through,  under  the  twin  hills,  was  a  flutter  of 
something  white — white  splashed  with  crimson.  Ker- 
reri lines  beyond  a  doubt ;  only  what  was  the  white  ? 
Loose  garments  of  horsemen  riding  through  the  bush  ? 
Tents  ?  Flags  ?  Yes ;  it  must  be  flags.  Already  a 
subaltern  was  picking  his  way  through  the  bush  with 
an  officer's  patrol.  Immediately  another  strolled  away 
to  the  left ;  already  one  white  gunboat  had  almost  out- 
flanked the  lines.  The  whole  regiment  was  now  up, 
and  dismounted  in  columns  of  squadrons  in  the  open. 
When  the  saddle  alone  weighs  eight  stone  it  is  always 
useful  to  relieve  a  horse  of  the  man.  Colonel  and 
majors,  captains  and  adjutants  and  subalterns,  sergeant- 
major  and  privates  to  hold  the  horses,  grouped  on  a 
little  knoll.  Popular  the  man  who  had  a  good  field- 
glass. 

Tap,  tap,  tap,  floated  down  the  wind.  They  were 
beating  their  war-drum.  "  Where's  Montmorency  ? " 
"  Gone  into  the  bush,  sir."  Pop !  Very  faint  and 
muffled,  but  all  hearts  leaped  :  it  was  the  first  shot  of 
the  campaign.  And  then  through  the  bushes  galloped 
a  bay  horse  riderless.  Tap,  tap,  tap :  they  were  still 
beating  the  war  -  drum.  "  What's  that  to  right  of 
the  flags  ? "     "  Men,  sir,"  says   the   sergeant  -  major, 


254  THE  KECONNAISSANCES. 

taking  his  pipe  out  of  his  mouth.  "  I  can  see  them 
with  the  naked  eye."  Tap,  tap,  tap.  "  Where's  Mont- 
morency ? "      "  In  the there   he   is,  sir,  corning 

back."  "  Very  well ;  send  a  man  to  recall  that  patrol 
on  the  left.  We've  seen  where  they  are  :  we'll  go 
home  now,  quietly." 

Then  in  came  the  smiling  subaltern.  One  man  had 
thrown  a  spear  at  him  and  one  had  loosed  off  an 
elephant  gun  ;  but  he  had  dropped  one  man  off  the  bay 
horse.  There  were  thirty  flags  or  so :  it  might  mean 
perhaps  3000  men.  The  patrol  from  the  left  reported 
some  200  horsemen  striking  away  to  their  right  rear. 
It  might  mean  retreat :  it  might  mean  a  flank  attack. 
It  did  not  matter  which.  We  had  seen ;  the  recon- 
naissance had  succeeded :  we  walked  home  quietly. 

The  next  day, — the  army  had  marched  eight  miles 
to  Wady  Suetne — it  was  the  Egyptian  cavalry, — nearly 
twice  as  many  of  them,  and  the  camel -corps  and 
horse-battery  besides.  This  time  we  started  only  five 
miles  or  so  from  Kerreri,  and  before  we  had  gone  an 
hour  the  21st  were  in  the  lines.  It  had  been  a  retreat 
we  had  seen  the  day  before ;  anyhow,  it  had  become 
so  later,  when  the  gunboats  shelled  the  position ;  the 
place  was  empty.  We  crossed  over  to  the  left  and 
cantered  up  expectant,  but  there  was  nothing  to  see. 
Only  a  few  miserable  tukls  twisted  out  of  bushes: 
Jonah  had  a  better  house  under  his  gourd.  Kerreri 
had  been  a  fable — a  post  of  observation  never  meant 
to  be  held. 


A  CITY  WORTH   CONQUERING.  255 

But  the  lines  mattered  little:  it  was  to  the  hill 
behind  it  that  eyes  turned.  Now  we  were  on  the 
very  brink,  and  could  look  over  it  to  forecast  the 
great  day.  Should  we  see  dervishes  coming  on,  or 
should  we  see  dervishes  streaming  away  ?  We  must 
see  something,  and  we  scrambled  up,  and  at  last,  and 
at  last,  we  saw  Omdurman.  "We  saw  a  broad  plain, 
half  sand,  half  pale  grass ;  on  the  rim  by  the  Nile 
rose  a  pale  yellow  dome,  clear  above  everything. 
That  was  the  Mahdi's  tomb,  divined  from  Gebel 
Eoyan,  now  seen.  It  was  the  centre  of  a  purple 
stain  on  the  yellow  sand,  going  out  for  miles  and 
miles  on  every  side — the  mud-houses  of  Omdurman. 
A  great  city — an  enormous  city — a  city  worth  con- 
quering indeed! 

A  while  we  looked ;  but  this  was  a  reconnaissance. 
The  thing  was  to  look  nearer  and  see  if  there  were 
any  enemy.  The  Lancers  had  gone  on  towards  some 
villages  along  the  river,  between  our  hill  and  another 
three  or  four  miles  on.  The  Egyptian  mounted  troops 
turned  south-westward,  inland.  We  did  not  altogether 
know  what  we  were  going  to  do  or  see :  perhaps  it  was 
that  dark  patch  halfway  between  our  line  of  advance 
and  the  British,  which  might  be  trees  or  might  be 
men.  But  Broadwood  Bey  knew  very  well  where 
we  were  going,  and  what  we  were  going  to  see.  We 
began  to  march  towards  a  clump  of  hills  that  drew  in 
north-westward  within  three  miles  of  the  outskirts  of 
Omdurman ;  the  map  calls  it  Gebel  Feried.    We  came 


256  THE  RECONNAISSANCES. 

into  swamps  deepened  by  the  last  night's  rain;  we 
crossed  soft-bottomed  streams ;  it  would  have  been 
desperate  ground  to  be  attacked  in,  but  still  the  leader 
rode  on  and  the  heavy  columns  rode  behind  him.  At 
last  we  came  behind  the  south-easternmost  hill,  and 
the  squadrons  halted  and  the  guns  wheeled  into  line 
and  the  camels  barracked.  We  went  up  the  hill  and 
again  we  saw. 

Omdurman  was  nearer,  more  enormous,  more  worth 
conquering  than  ever.  A  gigantic  tract  of  mud- 
houses  ;  the  Mahdi's  tomb  rising  above  them  like  a 
protecting  genius ;  many  other  roofs  rising  tall  above 
the  wont  of  the  Sudan,  one  or  two  with  galvanised 
iron  roofs  to  mirror  the  sunlight.  With  its  huge 
extent,  its  obvious  principal  buildings,  its  fostering 
cathedral,  the  distant  view  of  Omdurman  would  have 
disgraced  no  European  capital :  you  might  almost 
expect  that  the  hotel  omnibus  would  meet  you  at  the 
railway  station. 

But  once  more  we  were  on  reconnaissance;  we 
were  there  to  look  for  men.  In  front  of  the  city 
stretched  a  long  white  line — banners,  it  might  be; 
more  likely  tents ;  most  likely  both.  In  front  of  that 
was  a  longer,  thicker  black  line — no  doubt  a  zariba  or 
trench.  Then  they  did  mean  to  fight  after  alL  Only 
as  we  sat  and  ate  a  biscuit  and  looked — the  entrench- 
ment moved.  The  solid  wall  moved  forward,  and  it 
was  a  wall  of  men. 

Whew  !     What  an  army !     Five  huge  brigades  of  it 


THE  KHALIFA'S  AEMY.  257 

—a  three-mile  front,  and  parts  of  it  eight  or  ten  men 
deep.  It  was  beginning  to  move  directly  for  our  hill, 
and — turn,  turn,  turn — we  heard  the  boom  of  a  war- 
drum  of  higher  calibre  than  yesterday's.  Now  they 
seemed  to  halt;  now  they  came  on.  The  five  corps 
never  broke  or  shifted,  the  rigid  front  never  bent; 
their  discipline  must  be  perfect.  And  they  covered 
the  ground.  The  three  miles  melted  before  them; 
our  scouts  and  the  Lancers'  and  theirs  were  chasing 
each  other  to  and  fro  over  the  interval;  we  saw  a 
picket  of  the  Lancers  fire.  "  We'll  go  back  now," 
said  the  serene  voice  of  the  leader.  The  force  formed 
up,  and  we  started  on  the  eight-mile  walk  between 
ourselves  and  support. 

The  sun  had  hardened  the  swamp  underfoot,  but 
the  guns  and  camels  still  made  heavy  going  of  it. 
We  had  not  been  moving  twenty  minutes  before  we 
saw  a  black  masi  of  the  enemy  watching  us  from  the 
hill  whence  we  had  watched  them.  And  their  line 
was  still  coming  on,  black  over  a  ridge  not  a  mile 
behind  us.  Turn,  turn,  turn  — they  were  getting 
nearer;  now  we  heard  their  shouts,  and  saw  their 
swords  brandishing  in  the  sun.  Turn,  turn,  turn— roar 
—brandish  —  how  slowly  the  camels  moved!  The 
troopers  in  the  long  column  of  our  outside  flank  were 
beginning  to  look  over  their  shoulders.  Then  the  doc- 
tor came  galloping  like  mad  from  behind.  "Where's 
Broad  wood  ?  " — and  we  saw  the  rear-guard  squadron 
faced  about  and  galloping  towards  the  enemy.     The 

£ 


258  THE   RECONNAISSANCES. 

bugle  snapped  out  and  the  troops  of  the  flanking 
regiment  whipped  round  and  walked  towards  the 
enemy  too.  They  were  within  a  thousand  yards. 
Now — 

It  was  only  a  dismounted  trooper  they  were  fetch- 
ing back.  The  troops  turned  again,  and  we  walked 
into  camp.  It  was  a  perfect  reconnaissance, — not  a 
man  lost,  not  a  shot  fired,  and  everything  seen. 


2ft) 


XXXIL 

THE  BATTLE   OF   OMDURMAN. 

Our  camp,  for  the  night  of  September  1,  was  in  the 
village  of  Agaiga,  a  mile  south  of  Kerreri  Hill.  On  our 
left  front  was  another  hill,  higher,  but  single-peaked 
and  rounder — Gebel  Surgham.  In  front  the  ground 
was  open  for  five  miles  or  so — sand  and  grass  broken 
by  only  a  few  folds — with  a  group  of  hills  beyond. 

The  force  had  formed  up  in  position  in  the  after- 
noon, when  the  Dervishes  followed  the  cavalry  home, 
and  had  remained  under  arms  all  night ;  at  half-past 
five  in  the  morning,  when  the  first  howitzer-shell  from 
opposite  Omdurman  opened  the  day's  work,  every 
man  was  in  his  place.  The  line  formed  an  obtuse 
angle ;  the  order  of  brigades  and  battalions,  counting 
from  the  left,  was  the  following :  Ly ttelton's  2nd  Bri- 
tish (Rifle  Brigade,  Lancashire  Fusiliers,  Northumber- 
land Fusiliers,  Grenadier  Guards) ;  Wauchope's  1st 
British  (Warwicks,  Seaforths,  Camerons,  Lincolns) ; 
Maxwell's  2nd  Egyptian  (14th,  12th,  13th  Sudanese, 


260  THE  BATTLE  OH  OJIDURMAN. 

and  8th  Egyptian  in  support).  Here  came  the  point 
of  the  angle ;  to  the  right  of  it  were :  Macdonald's 
1st  Egyptian  (11th,  10th,  9th  Sudanese,  2nd  Egyptian 
supporting);  Lewis's  3rd  Egyptian  (4th,  15th,  and 
3rd  ;tnd  7th  Egyptian,  in  column  on  the  right  flank). 
Collinson's  4th  Egyptian  Brigade  (1st,  5th,  17th,  and 
18th  Egyptian)  was  in  reserve  in  the  village.  All 
the  Egyptian  battalions  in  the  front  were  in  their 
usual  formation,  with  four  companies  in  line  and  two 
in  support.  The  British  had  six  in  line  and  two  in 
support. 

On  the  extreme  left  was  the  32nd  Field  Battery ; 
the  Maxims  and  Egyptian  field-guns  were  mounted  at 
intervals  in  the  infantry  line.  The  cavalry  had  gone 
out  at  the  first  streak  of  grey,  British  on  the  left, 
as  usual,  Egyptian  with  camel-corps  and  horse-battery 
from  the  right  moving  across  our  front.  The  gunboats 
lay  with  steam  up  off  the  village. 

Light  stole  quietly  into  the  sky  behind  us;  there 
was  no  sound  from  the  plain  or  the  hills  before  us ; 
there  was  hardly  a  sound  from  our  own  line.  Every- 
body was  very  silent,  but  very  curious.  Would  they 
be  so  mad  as  to  come  out  and  run  their  heads  into  our 
fire  ?  It  seemed  beyond  hoping  for ;  yet  certainly 
they  had  been  full  of  war  the  day  before.  But  most 
of  us  were  expecting  instantly  the  order  to  advance 
on  Omdurman. 

A  trooper  rose  out  of  the  dimness  from  behind  the 
shoulder  of  Gebel  Surgham,  grew  larger  and  plainer, 


H 


y-^yWl^'^ 


M\%p 


W':W!P' 


THE  FIKST  ATTACK.  263 

spurred  violently  up  to  the  line  and  inside.  A  couple 
more  were  silhouetted  across  our  front.  Then  the 
electric  whisper  came  racing  down  the  line ;  they 
were  coming.  The  Lancers  came  in  on  the  left ;  the 
Egyptian  mounted  troops  drew  like  a  curtain  across 
us  from  left  to  right.  As  they  passed  a  flicker  of 
white  flags  began  to  extend  and  fill  the  front  in  their 
place.  The  noise  of  something  began  to  creep  in  upon 
us  ;  it  cleared  and  divided  into  the  tap  of  drums  and 
the  far-away  surf  of  raucous  war-cries.  A  shiver 
of  expectancy  thrilled  along  our  army,  and  then  a 
sigh  of  content.  They  were  coming  on.  Allah  help 
them !  they  were  coming  on. 

It  was  now  half -past  six.  The  flags  seemed  still  very 
distant,  the  roar  very  faint,  and  the  thud  of  our  first 
gun  was  almost  startling.  It  may  have  startled  them 
too,  but  it  startled  them  into  life.  The  line  of  flags 
swung  forward,  anu  a  mass  of  white  flying  linen  swung 
forward  with  it  too.  They  came  very  fast,  and  they 
came  very  straight ;  and  then  presently  they  came  no 
farther.  With  a  crash  the  bullets  leaped  out  of  the 
British  rifles.  It  began  with  the  Guards  and  Warwicks 
— section  volleys  at  2000  yards ;  then,  as  the  Dervishes 
edged  rightward,  it  ran  along  to  the  Highlanders,  the 
Lincolns,  and  to  Maxwell's  Brigade.  The  British  stood 
up  in  double  rank  behind  their  zariba ;  the  blacks  lay 
down  in  their  shelter-trench;  both  poured  out  death 
as  fast  as  they  could  load  and  press  trigger.  Shrapnel 
whistled  and  Maxims  growled  savagely.     From  all  the 


264  THE  BATTLE  OF   OMDURMAN. 

line  came  perpetual  fire,  fire,  fire,  and  shrieked  forth 
in  great  gusts  of  destruction. 

And  the  enemy  ?  No  white  troops  would  have 
faced  that  torrent  of  death  for  five  minutes,  but  the 
Baggara  and  the  blacks  came  on.  The  torrent  swept 
into  them  and  hurled  them  down  in  whole  companies. 
You  saw  a  rigid  line  gather  itself  up  and  rush  on 
evenly ;  then  before  a  shrapnel  shell  or  a  Maxim  the 
line  suddenly  quivered  and  stopped.  The  line  was 
yet  unbroken,  but  it  was  quite  still.  But  other  lines 
gathered  up  again,  again,  and  yet  again ;  they  went 
down,  and  yet  others  rushed  on.  Sometimes  they 
came  near  enough  to  see  single  figures  quite  plainly. 
One  old  man  with  a  white  flag  started  with  five 
comrades;  all  dropped,  but  he  alone  came  bounding 
forward  to  within  200  yards  of  the  14th  Sudanese. 
Then  he  folded  his  arms  across  his  face,  and  his  limbs 
loosened,  and  he  dropped  sprawling  to  earth  beside 
his  flag. 

It  was  the  last  day  of  Mahdism,  and  the  greatest. 
They  could  never  get  near,  and  they  refused  to  hold 
back.  By  now  the  ground  before  us  was  all  white 
with  dead  men's  drapery.  Rifles  grew  red-hot;  the 
soldiers  seized  them  by  the  slings  and  dragged  them 
back  to  the  reserve  to  change  for  cool  ones.  It  was 
not  a  battle,  but  an  execution. 

In  the  middle  of  it  all  you  were  surprised  to  find 
that  we  were  losing  men.  The  crash  of  our  own  fire 
was  so  prodigious  that  we  could  not  hear  their  bullets 


"BEARER   PARTY  THERE!"  265 

whistle ;  yet  they  came  and  swooped  down  and  found 
victims.  The  Dervishes  were  firing  at  their  extreme 
range,  and  their  bullets  were  many  of  them  almost 
spent;  but  as  they  always  fire  high  they  often  hit.  So 
that  while  you  might  have  thought  you  were  at  a 
shoot  of  rabbits,  you  suddenly  heard  the  sharp  cry, 
"Bearer  party  there,  quick,"  and  a  man  was  being 
borne  rearward.  Few  went  down,  but  there  was  a 
steady  trickle  to  hospital.  Bullets  may  have  been 
spent,  and  Captain  Caldecott,  of  the  Warwicks,  was 
one  of  the  strongest  men  in  the  army ;  but  that 
helped  him  nothing  when  the  dropping  ball  took 
him  in  the  temple  and  came  out  through  the  jugular. 
He  lay  an  hour  unconscious,  then  opened  his  eyes 
with  "  For  God's  sake,  give  me  water ! "  and  died  as 
he  drank.  All  mourned  him  for  a  smart  officer  and 
a  winning  comrade.  Most  of  all  the  two  Highland 
battalions  dropped  men.  The  zariba  behind  which 
they  were  unwisely  posted  obliged  them  to  stand,  be- 
sides hampering  them  both  in  fire  and  when  it  came 
to  movement ;  a  little  clump  of  enemy  gathered  in  a 
hole  in  front  of  them,  and  by  the  time  guns  came 
up  to  shell  them  out,  the  Camerons  had  lost  some 
twenty-five  and  the  Seaforths  above  a  dozen. 

But  loss  on  this  scale  was  not  to  be  considered 
beside  the  awful  slaughter  of  the  Dervishes.  If  they 
still  came  on  our  men  needed  only  time  and  ammuni- 
tion and  strength  to  point  a  rifle  to  kill  them  off  to 
the  very  last  man.     Only  by  now — small  wonder — 


1>66  THE   BATTLE   OF   OMDUItMAN. 

they  were  not  coming  on.  They  were  not  driven 
back ;  they  were  all  killed  in  coming  on.  One  section 
of  fire  after  another  hushed,  and  at  eight  o'clock  the 
village  and  the  plain  were  still  again.  The  last  shell 
had  burst  over  the  last  visible  group  of  Dervishes; 
now  there  was  nothing  but  the  unbending,  grimly 
expectant  line  before  Agaiga  and  the  still  carpet  of 
white  in  front. 

We  waited  half  an  hour  or  so,  and  then  the  sudden 
busle  called  us  to  our  feet.  "  Advance,"  it  cried  ;  "  to 
Omdurman  ! "  added  we.  Slowly  the  force  broke  up, 
and  expanded.  The  evident  intention  was  to  march 
in  echelon  of  brigades  —  the  Second  British  leading 
along  the  river,  the  First  British  on  their  right  rear, 
then  Maxwell's,  Lewis's,  and  Macdonald's,  with 
Coll  in  son's  still  supporting.  Lewis  and  Macdonald 
had  changed  places,  the  latter  being  now  outermost 
and  rearmost;  at  the  time  few  noticed  that.  The 
moment  the  dervish  attack  had  died  down  the  21st 
Lancers  had  slipped  out,  and  pushed  straight  for  the 
Khalifa's  capital. 

Movement  was  slow,  since  the  leading  brigades  had 
to  wait  till  the  others  had  gone  far  enough  inland  to 
take  their  positions.  We  passed  over  a  corner  of  the 
field  of  fire,  and  saw  for  certain  what  awful  slaughter 
we  had  done.  The  bodies  were  not  in  heaps — bodies 
hardly  ever  are;  but  they  spread  evenly  over  acres 
and  acres.  And  it  was  very  remarkable,  if  you 
remembered  the  Atbara,  that  you  saw  hardly  a  black ; 


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THE  SECOND   ATTACK.  269 

nearly  all  the  dead  had  the  high  forehead  and  taper 
cheeks  of  the  Arab.  The  Baggara  had  been  met  at 
last,  and  he  was  worth  meeting.  Some  lay  very  com- 
posedly, with  their  slippers  placed  under  their  heads 
for  a  last  pillow ;  some  knelt,  cut  short  in  the  middle 
of  a  last  prayer.  Others  were  torn  to  pieces,  ver- 
milion blood  already  drying  on  brown  skin,  killed 
instantly  beyond  doubt.  Others,  again,  seemingly  as 
dead  as  these,  sprang  up  as  we  approached,  and 
rushed  savagely,  hurling  spears  at  the  nearest  enemy. 
They  were  bayoneted  or  shot.  Once  again  the  plain 
seemed  empty,  but  for  the  advancing  masses  and  the 
carpet  of  reddened  white  and  broken  bodies  underfoot. 
It  was  now  twenty  minutes  to  ten.  The  British 
had  crested  a  low  ridge  between  Gebel  Surgham  and 
the  Nile;  Maxwell's  brigade  was  just  ascending  it, 
Lewis's  just  coming  up  under  the  hill.  Men  who 
could  go  where  they  liked  were  up  with  the  British, 
staring  hungrily  at  Omdurman.  Suddenly  from  rear- 
ward broke  out  a  heavy  crackle  of  fire.  We  thought 
perhaps  a  dozen  men  or  so  had  been  shamming  dead ; 
we  went  on  staring  at  Omdurman.  But  next  instant 
we  had  to  turn  and  gallop  hot -heeled  back  again. 
For  the  crackle  became  a  crashing,  and  the  crashing 
waxed  to  a  roar.  Dervishes  were  firing  at  us  from 
the  top  of  Gebel  Surgham,  dervishes  were  firing  be- 
hind and  to  the  right  of  it.  The  13th  Sudanese  were 
bounding  up  the  hill ;  Lewis's  brigade  had  hastily  faced 
to  its  right  westward,  and  was  volleying  for  life ;  Mac- 


270  THE  BATTLE  OF   OMDURMAN. 

donald's  beyond,  still  facing  northward,  was  a  sheet  of 
flashes  and  a  roll  of  smoke.  What  was  it  ?  Had  they 
come  to  life  again  ?  No  time  to  ask  ;  reinforcements 
or  ghosts,  they  were  on  us,  and  the  battle  was  begun 
all  again. 

To  understand,  you  must  hear  now  what  we  only 
heard  afterwards.  The  dervish  army,  it  appeared, 
had  not  returned  to  Omdurman  on  the  night  of  the 
1st,  but  had  bivouacked — 40,000  to  50,000  of  them— 
behind  Gebel  Surgham,  south-westward  from  Agaiga. 
The  Khalifa  had  doubtless  expected  a  sudden  attack 
at  daybreak,  as  at  Firket,  at  Abu  Hamed,  on  the 
Atbara;  as  we  marched  by  night  to  our  positions 
before  Omdurman  he  must  have  designed  to  spring 
upon  our  right  flank.  When  day  broke  and  no 
enemy  appeared  he  divided  his  army  into  three 
corps.  The  first,  under  Osman  Azrak,  attacked  the 
village ;  the  second,  with  the  green  banner  of  Ali 
Wad  Helu — with  him  Abdullahi's  eldest  son,  the 
Sheik-ed-Din  —  moved  towards  Kerreri  Heights  to 
envelop  our  right;  the  third,  under  Abdullahi  himself 
and  his  brother  Yakub,  remained  behind  Surgham, 
ready,  as  need  might  be,  to  envelop  our  left,  or  to  act 
as  reserve  and  bar  our  road  to  Omdurman. 

What  befell  the  first  you  know ;  Osman  Azrak  died 
with  them.  The  second  spread  out  towards  our  right, 
and  there  it  fell  in  with  the  Egyptian  cavalry,  horse- 
battery,  and  camel-corps.  When  Broad  wood  Bey  fell 
back  before  the  attack,  he  sent  word  of  its  coming  to 


BllOADWOOD   IN   DIFFICULTIES.  271 

the  Sirdar,  and  received  orders  to  remain  outside  the 
trench  and  keep  the  enemy  in  front,  instead  of  letting 
them  get  round  the  right.  Accordingly  he  occupied 
the  Heights  of  Kerreri.  But  the  moment  he  got  to  the 
top  he  found  himself  in  face  of  Wad  Helu's  unsuspected 
army-corps — 12,000  to  15,000  men  against  less  than 
2000  —  and  the  moment  he  saw  them  they  began 
swarming  up  the  hill.  There  was  just  a  moment  for 
decision,  but  one  moment  is  all  that  a  born  cavalry 
general  needs.  The  next  his  galloper  was  flying  with 
the  news  to  the  Sirdar,  and  the  mounted  troops  were 
retreating  northward.  The  choice  lay  between  isola- 
tion, annihilation,  or  retreat  on  Agaiga  and  envelop- 
ment of  the  right.  Broadwood  chose  the  first,  but 
even  for  that  the  time  was  short  enough.  The  camels 
floundered  on  the  rocky  hillside;  the  guns  dragged; 
the  whole  mass  of  dervishes  pursued  them  with  a 
pelting  fire.  Two  guns  lost  all  their  horses  and  were 
abandoned ;  the  camel-corps  alone  had  over  sixty  men 
hit.  As  for  the  cavalry,  they  went  back  very  hard 
pressed,  covering  their  comrades'  retreat  and  their  own 
by  carbine  fire.  If  the  Egyptian  army  but  gave 
Victoria  Crosses,  there  were  many  earned  that  day. 
Man  after  man  rode  back  to  bring  in  dismounted 
officers,  and  would  hardly  be  dissuaded  from  their 
endeavour  when  it  was  seen  the  rescued  were  plainly 
dead.  It  was  the  great  day  of  trial — the  day  the  pick 
of  our  cavalry  officers  have  worked  for  through  a  weary 
decade  and  more — and  the  Fayum  fellah  fought  like  a 


272  THE  BATTLE  OF   OMDURMAN. 

hero  and  died  like  a  man.  One  or  two  short  of  forty 
killed  and  wounded  was  the  day's  loss ;  but  they  came 
off  handsomely.  The  army  of  the  green  flag  was  now 
on  Kerreri  Heights,  between  them  and  the  camp ;  but 
with  Broadwood's  force  unbroken  behind  it,  it  paused 
from  the  meditated  attack  on  the  Egyptian  right.  In 
the  pause  three  of  the  five  gunboats  caught  it,  and 
pepper-castored  it  over  with  shell  and  Maxim  fire.  It 
withdrew  from  the  river  towards  the  centre  again :  the 
instant  a  way  was  cleared  the  out-paced  camel-corps 
was  passed  back  to  Agaiga.  The  cavalry  hung  upon 
the  green  flag's  left,  till  they  withdrew  clean  west- 
ward and  inland ;  then  it  moved  placidly  back  to  the 
infantry  again. 

Thus  much  for  the  right ;  on  the  left  the  British 
cavalry  were  in  the  stress  of  an  engagement,  less  per- 
fectly conducted,  even  more  hardily  fought  out.  They 
left  the  zariba,  as  you  heard,  the  moment  the  attack 
burned  out,  and  pricked  eagerly  off  to  Omdurman. 
Verging  somewhat  westward,  to  the  rear  of  Gebel 
Surgham,  they  came  on  300  Dervishes.  Their  scouts 
had  been  over  the  ground  a  thousand  yards  ahead  of 
them,  and  it  was  clear  for  a  charge.  Only  to  cut  them 
off  it  was  thought  better  to  get  a  little  west  of  them, 
then  left  wheel,  and  thus  gallop  down  on  them  and 
drive  them  away  from  their  supports.  The  trumpets 
sang  out  the  order,  the  troops  glided  into  squadrons, 
and,  four  squadrons  in  line,  the  21st  Lancers  swung 
into  their  first  charge. 


THE  LANCERS'   CHARGE.  273 

Knee  to  knee  they  swept  on  till  they  were  but  200 
yards  from  the  enemy.  Then  suddenly  —  then  in  a 
flash — they  saw  the  trap.  Between  them  and  the  300 
there  yawned  suddenly  a  deep  ravine;  out  of  the 
ravine  there  sprang  instantly  a  cloud  of  dark  heads 
and  a  brandished  lightning  of  swords,  and  a  thunder 
of  savage  voices.  Mahmud  smiled  when  he  heard  the 
tale  in  prison  at  Haifa,  and  said  it  was  their  favourite 
stratagem.  It  had  succeeded.  Three  thousand,  if  there 
was  one,  to  a  short  four  hundred ;  but  it  was  too  late 
to  check  now.  Must  go  through  with  it  now !  The 
blunders  of  British  cavalry  are  the  fertile  seed  of 
British  glory :  knee  to  knee  the  Lancers  whirled  on. 
One  hundred  yards — fifty — knee  to  knee 

Slap  !  "  It  was  just  like  that,"  said  a  captain,  bring- 
ing his  fist  hard  into  his  open  palm.  Through  the 
swordsmen  they  shore  without  checking — and  then 
came  the  khor.  The  colonel  at  their  head,  riding 
straight  through  everything  without  sword  or  revolver 
drawn,  found  his  horse  on  its  head,  and  the  swords 
swooping  about  his  own.  He  got  the  charger  up  again, 
and  rode  on  straight,  unarmed,  through  everything. 
The  squadrons  followed  him  down  the  fall.  Horses 
plunged,  blundered,  recovered,  fell ;  dervishes  on  the 
ground  lay  for  the  hamstringing  cut;  officers  pistolled 
them  in  passing  over,  as  one  drops  a  stone  into  a 
bucket;  troopers  thrust  till  lances  broke,  then  cut; 
everybody  went  on  straight,  through  everything. 

And  through  everything  clean  out  the  other  side 


1274  THE   BATTLE  OF   OMDURMAN. 

they  came  —  those  that  kept  up  or  got  up  in  time. 
The  others  were  on  the  ground — in  pieces  by  now,  for 
the  cruel  swords  shore  through  shoulder  and  thigh, 
and  carved  the  dead  into  fillets.  Twenty-four  of 
these,  and  of  those  that  came  out  over  fifty  had 
felt  sword  or  bullet  or  spear.  Few  horses  stayed 
behind  among  the  swords,  but  nearly  130  were 
wounded.  Lieutenant  Robert  Grenfell's  troop  came 
on  a  place  with  a  jump  out  as  well  as  a  jump  in;  it 
lost  officer,  centre  guide,  and  both  flank  guides,  ten 
killed,  and  eleven  wounded.  Yet,  when  they  burst 
straggling  out,  their  only  thought  was  to  rally  and 
go  in  again.  "Rally,  No.  2!"  yelled  a  sergeant,  so 
mangled  across  the  face  that  his  body  was  a  cascade 
of  blood,  and  nose  and  cheeks  flapped  hideously  as  he 
yelled.  "  Fall  out,  sergeant,  you're  wounded,"  said  the 
subaltern  of  his  troop.  "  No,  no,  sir ;  fall  in  ! "  came 
the  hoarse  answer ;  and  the  man  reeled  in  his  saddle. 
"  Fall  in,  No.  2  ;  fall  in.  Where  are  the  devils  ?  Show 
me  the  devils ! "  And  No.  2  fell  in — four  whole  men 
out  of  twenty. 

They  chafed  and  stamped  and  blasphemed  to  go 
through  them  again,  though  the  colonel  wisely  forbade 
them  to  face  the  pit  anew.  There  were  gnashings 
of  teeth  and  howls  of  speechless  rage — things  half 
theatrical,  half  brutal  to  tell  of  when  blood  has  cooled, 
yet  things  to  rejoice  over,  in  that  they  show  the  fight- 
ing devil  has  not,  after  all,  been  civilised  out  of  Britons. 


THKEE  AGAINST  THREE  THOUSAND.      275 

Also  there  are  many  and  many  deeds  of  self-abandon- 
ing heroism;  of  which  tale  the  half  will  never  be 
told.  Take  only  one.  Lieutenant  de  Montmorency 
missed  his  troop-sergeant,  and  rode  back  among  the 
slashes  to  look  for  him.  There  he  found  the  hacked 
body  of  Lieutenant  Grenfell.  He  dismounted,  and 
put  it  up  on  his  horse,  not  seeing,  in  his  heat,  that 
life  had  drained  out  long  since  by  a  dozen  chan- 
nels. The  horse  bolted  under  the  slackened  muscles, 
and  De  Montmorency  was  left  alone  with  his  revolver 
and  3000  screaming  fiends.  Captain  Kenna  and 
Corporal  Swarbrick  rode  out,  caught  his  horse,  and 
brought  it  back;  the  three  answered  the  fire  of  the 
3000  at  fifty  yards,  and  got  quietly  back  to  their 
own  line  untouched. 

Forbearing  a  second  charge,  the  Lancers  dismounted 
and  opened  fire ;  the  carbines  at  short  range  took  an 
opulent  vengeance  for  the  lost.  Back,  back,  back  they 
drove  them,  till  they  came  into  the  fire  of  the  32nd 
Battery.  The  shrapnel  flew  shrieking  over  them ; 
the  3000  fell  all  ways,  and  died. 

All  this  from  hearsay;  now  to  go  back  to  what 
we  saw.  When  the  Sirdar  moved  his  brigades 
southward  he  knew  what  he  was  doing.  He  was 
giving  his  right  to  an  unbeaten  enemy ;  with  his 
usual  daring  he  made  it  so.  His  game  now  was  to 
get  between  the  dervishes  and  Omdurman.  Perhaps 
he  did  not  guess  what  a  bellyful  of  beating  the  un- 


276  THE  BATTLE   OF  OMDUltMAN. 

beaten  enemy  would  take ;  but  he  trusted  to  his 
generals  and  his  star,  and,  as  always,  they  bore  him 
to  victory. 

The  blacks  of  the  13  th  Battalion  were  storming 
Gebel  Surgham.  Lewis  and  Macdonald,  facing  west 
and  south,  had  formed  a  right  angle.  They  were 
receiving  the  fire  of  the  Khalifa's  division,  and  the 
charge  of  the  Khalifa's  horsemen;  behind  these  the 
Khalifa's  huge  black  standard  was  flapping  raven- 
like. The  Baggara  horsemen  were  few  and  ill- 
mounted — perhaps  200  altogether — but  they  rode  to 
get  home  or  die.  They  died.  There  was  a  time 
when  one  galloping  Baggara  would  have  chased  a 
thousand  Egyptians,  but  that  time  is  very  long  past. 
The  fellaheen  stood  like  a  wall,  and  aimed  steadily  at 
the  word ;  the  chargers  swerved  towards  Macdonald. 
The  blacks,  as  cool  as  any  Scotsmen,  stood  and 
aimed  likewise ;  the  last  Baggara  fell  at  the  muzzles 
of  the  rifles.  Our  fire  went  on,  steady,  remorseless. 
The  Kemiugton  bullets  piped  more  and  more  rarely 
overhead,  and  the  black  heads  thinned  out  in  front. 
A  second  time  the  attack  guttered  and  flickered  out. 
It  was  just  past  ten.     Once  more  to  Omdurman  ! 

Two  minutes'  silence.  Then  once  more  the  howling 
storm  rushed  down  upon  us ;  once  more  crashed  forth 
the  answering  tempest.  This  time  it  burst  upon  Mac- 
donald alone — from  the  north-westward  upon  his  right 
flank,  spreading  and  gathering  to  his  right  rear.  Eor 
all  their  sudden  swiftness  of  movement  the  Dervishes 


THE  THIRD   ATTACK.  277 

throughout  this  day  never  lost  their  formation ;  their 
lines  drove  on  as  rigidly  as  ours,  regiment  alongside 
regiment  in  lines  of  six  and  eight  and  a  dozen  ranks, 
till  you  might  have  fancied  the  Macedonian  phalanx 
was  alive  again.  Left  and  front  and  right  and  rear 
the  masses  ate  up  the  desert — 12,000  unbroken  fast 
and  fearless  warriors  leaping  round  3000. 

Now  began  the  fiercest  fight  of  that  fierce  day.  The 
Khalifa  brought  up  his  own  black  banner  again ;  his 
staunchest  die-hards  drove  it  into  the  earth  and  locked 
their  ranks  about  it.  The  green  flag  danced  encourage- 
ment to  the  Allah-intoxicated  battalions  of  Wad  Helu 
and  the  Sheikh-ed-Din.  It  was*  victory  or  Paradise 
now. 

For  us  it  was  victory  or  shredded  flesh  and  bones 
unburied,  crackling  under  the  red  slippers  of  Baggara 
victors.  It  was  the  very  crux  and  crisis  of  the  fight. 
If  Macdonald  went,  Lewis  on  his  left  and  Collinson 
and  the  supporting  camel-corps  and  the  newly  re- 
turned cavalry,  all  on  his  right  or  rear,  must  all  go 
too.  The  Second  British  and  Second  Egyptian  Brig- 
ades were  far  off  by  now,  advancing  by  the  left  of 
Surgham  hill ;  if  they  had  to  be  recalled  the  Khalifa 
could  walk  back  into  his  stronghold,  and  then  all  our 
fighting  was  to  begin  anew.  But  Hunter  Pasha  was 
there  and  Macdonald  Bey  was  there,  born  fighting 
men  both,  whom  no  danger  can  flurry  and  no  sudden 
shift  in  the  kaleidoscope  of  battle  disconcert.  Hunter 
sent  for  Wauchope's  first  British  Brigade  to  fill  the 


278  THE   BATTLE   OF   OMDUEMAN. 

gap  between  Macdonald  and  Lewis.  The  order  went 
to  General  Gatacre  first  instead  of  to  the  Sirdar :  with 
the  soldier's  instinct  he  set  the  brigade  moving  on  the 
instant.  The  khaki  columns  faced  round  and  edged 
rightward,  rightward  till  the  fighting  line  was  backed 
with  3000  Lee  -  Metfords,  which  no  man  on  earth 
could  face  and  live.  Later  the  Lincnlns  were  moved 
farther  still  on  to  Macdonald's  right.  They  dispute 
with  the  Warwicks  the  title  of  the  best  shooting 
regiment  in  the  British  army ;  the  men  they  shot  at 
will  dispute  no  claim  of  the  Lincolns  for  ever. 

But  the  cockpit  of  the  fight  was  Macdonald's.  The 
British  might  avengt  his  brigade  ;  it  was  his  to  keep 
it  and  to  kill  off  the  attack.  To  meet  it  he  turned  his 
front  through  a  complete  half-circle,  facing  succes- 
sively south,  west,  and  north.  Every  tactician  in 
the  army  was  delirious  in  his  praise  :  the  ignorant 
correspondent  was  content  to  watch  the  man  and  his 
blacks.  "  Cool  as  on  parade,"  is  an  old  phrase  ;  Mac- 
donald Bey  was  very  much  cooler.  Beneath  the 
strong,  square  -  hewn  face  you  could  tell  that  the 
brain  was  working  as  if  packed  in  ice.  He  sat 
solid  on  his  horse,  and  bent  his  black  brows  towards 
the  green  flag  and  the  Eemingtons.  Then  he  turned 
to  a  galloper  with  an  order,  and  cantered  easily  up  to 
a  battalion-commander.  Magically  the  rifles  hushed, 
the  stinging  powder  smoke  wisped  away,  and  the 
companies  were  rapidly  threading  back  and  forward, 
round  and  round,  in  and  out,  as  if  it  were  a  figure 


MACDONALD  AND  HIS  BLACKS.        281 

of  a  dance.  In  two  minutes  the  brigade  was  to- 
gether again  in  a  new  place.  The  field  in  front 
was  hastening  towards  us  in  a  whitey-brown  cloud 
of  dervishes.  An  order.  Macdonald's  jaws  gripped 
and  hardened  as  the  flame  spurted  out  again,  and 
the  whitey-brown  cloud  quivered  and  stood  still. 
He  saw  everything ;  knew  what  to  do ;  knew  how 
to  do  it ;  did  it.  At  the  fire  he  was  ever  brooding 
watchfully  behind  his  firing-line;  at  the  cease  fire 
he  was  instantly  in  front  of  it :  all  saw  him,  and 
knew  that  they  were  being  nursed  to  triumph. 

His  blacks  of  the  9th,  10th,  and  11th,  the  historic 
fighting  regiments  of  the  Egyptian  army,  were  worthy 
of  their  chief.  The  2nd  Egyptian,  brigaded  with  them 
and  fighting  in  the  line,  were  worthy  of  their  com- 
rades, and  of  their  own  reputation  as  the  best  dis- 
ciplined battalion  in  the  world.  A  few  had  feared 
that  the  blacks  would  be  too  forward,  the  yellows 
too  backward:  except  that  the  blacks,  as  always, 
looked  happier,  there  was  no  difference  at  all  between 
them.  The  Egyptians  sprang  to  the  advance  at  the 
bugle ;  the  Sudanese  ceased  fire  in  an  instant  silence 
at  the  whistle.  They  were  losing  men,  too,  for  though 
eyes  were  clamped  on  the  dervish  charges,  the  dervish 
fire  was  brisk.  Man  after  man  dropped  out  behind 
the  firing-line.  Here  was  a  white  officer  with  a  red- 
lathered  charger;  there  a  black  stretched  straight, 
bare-headed  in  the  sun,  dry -lipped,  uncomplaining, 
a  bullet  through  his  liver;   two  yards  away  a  dead 


282  THE  BATTLE  CI    OMDUKMAN. 

driver  by  a  dead  battery  mule,  his  whip  still  glued 
in  his  hand.  The  table  of  loss  topped  100 — 150 — 
neared  200.  Still  they  stood,  fired,  advanced,  fired, 
changed  front,  fired — firing,  firing  always,  deaf  in  the 
din,  blind  in  the  smarting  smoke,  hot,  dry,  bleeding, 
bloodthirsty,  enduring  the  devilish  fight  to  the  end. 

And  the  Dervishes  ?  The  honour  of  the  fight  must 
still  go  with  the  men  who  died.  Our  men  were  per- 
fect, but  the  Dervishes  were  superb — beyond  perfec- 
tion. It  was  their  largest,  best,  and  bravest  army 
that  ever  fought  against  us  for  Mahdism,  and  it  died 
worthily  of  the  huge  empire  that  Mahdism  won  and 
kept  so  long.  Their  riflemen,  mangled  by  every  kind 
of  death  and  torment  that  man  can  devise,  clung 
round  the  black  flag  and  the  green,  emptying  their 
poor,  rotten,  home-made  cartridges  dauntlessly.  Their 
spearmen  charged  death  at  every  minute  hopelessly. 
Their  horsemen  led  each  attack,  riding  into  the  bullets 
till  nothing  was  left  but  three  horses  trotting  up  to 
our  line,  heads  down,  saying,  "  For  goodness'  sake,  let 
us  in  out  of  this."  Not  one  rush,  or  two,  or  ten — but 
rush  on  rush,  company  on  company,  never  stopping, 
though  all  their  view  that  was  not  unshaken  enemy 
was  the  bodies  of  the  men  who  had  rushed  before 
them.  A  dusky  line  got  up  and  stormed  forward: 
it  bent,  broke  up,  fell  apart,  and  disappeared.  Before 
the  smoke  had  cleared,  another  line  was  bending  and 
storming  forward  in  the  same  track. 

It  was  over.     The  avenging  squadrons  of  the  Egyp- 


THE  LAST   DERVISH.  283 

tian  cavalry  swept  over  the  field.  The  Khalifa  and 
the  Sheikh-ed-Din  had  galloped  back  to  Omdurman. 
Ali  Wad  Helu  was  borne  away  on  an  angareb  with 
a  bullet  through  his  thigh-bone.  Yakub  lay  dead 
under  his  brother's  banner.  From  the  green  army 
there  now  came  only  death-enamoured  desperadoes, 
strolling  one  by  one  towards  the  rifles,  pausing  to 
shake  a  spear,  turning  aside  to  recognise  a  corpse, 
then,  caught  by  a  sudden  jet  of  fury,  bounding  for- 
ward, checking,  sinking  limply  to  the  ground.  Now 
under  the  black  flag  in  a  ring  of  bodies  stood  only 
three  men,  facing  the  three  thousand  of  the  Third 
Brigade.  They  folded  their  arms  about  the  staff  and 
gazed  steadily  forward.  Two  fell.  The  last  dervish 
stood  up  and  filled  his  chest;  he  shouted  the  name 
of  his  God  and  hurled  his  spear.  Then  he  stood  quite 
still,  waiting.  It  took  him  full ;  he  quivered,  gave 
at  the  knees,  and  toppled  with  his  head  on  his  arms 
and  his  face  towards  the  legions  of  his  conquerors. 


284 


XXXIIL 

ANALYSIS   AND   CRITICISM. 

Over  11,000  killed,  16,000  wounded,  4000  prisoners, 

that  was  the  astounding  bill  of  dervish  casualties 

officially  presented  after  the  battle  of  Omdurman. 
Some  people  had  estimated  the  whole  dervish  army 
at  1000  less  than  this  total:  few  had  put  it  above 
50,000.  The  Anglo -Egyptian  army  on  the  day  of 
battle  numbered,  perhaps,  22,000  men :  if  the  Allies 
had  done  the  same  proportional  execution  at  Waterloo, 
not  one  Frenchman  would  have  escaped. 

How  the  figures  of  wounded  were  arrived  at  I 
do  not  know.  The  wounded  of  a  dervish  army  ought 
not  really  to  be  counted  at  all,  since  the  badly 
wounded  die  and  the  slightly  wounded  are  just  as 
dangerous  as  if  they  were  whole.  It  is  conceivable 
that  some  of  the  wounded  may  have  been  counted 
twice  over— either  as  dead,  when  they  were  certain 
to  perish  of  their  wounds  or  of  thirst,  or  else  as 
prisoners  when  they  gave  themselves  up.  Yet,  with 
all  the  deductions  that  moderation  can  suggest,  it  was 


AN  APPALLING  SLAUGHTER.  285 

a  most  appalling  slaughter.  The  dervish  army  was 
killed  out  as  hardly  an  army  has  been  killed  out  in 
the  history  of  war. 

It  will  shock  you,  but  it  was  simply  unavoidable. 
Not  a  man  was  killed  except  resisting  —  very  few 
except  attacking.  Many  wounded  were  killed,  it  is 
true,  but  that  again  was  absolutely  unavoidable.  At 
the  very  end  of  the  battle,  when  Macdonald's  brigade 
was  advancing  after  its  long  fight,  the  leading  files  of 
the  9th  Sudanese  passed  by  a  young  Baggara  who 
was  not  quite  dead.  In  a  second  he  was  up  ana  at 
the  nearest  mounted  white  officer.  The  first  spear 
flew  like  a  streak,  but  just  missed.  The  officer 
assailed  put  a  man-stopping  revolver  bullet  into  him, 
but  it  did  not  stop  him.  He  whipped  up  another 
spear,  and  only  a  swerve  in  the  saddle  saved  the 
Englishman's  body  at  the  expense  of  a  wounded 
right  hand.  This  happened  not  once  but  a  hun- 
dred times,  and  all  over  the  field.  It  was  impossible 
not  to  kill  the  dervishes:  they  refused  to  go  back 
alive.  At  the  very  finish  —  the  11,000  killed,  the 
Khalifa  fled,  the  army  hopelessly  smashed  to  pieces 
— a  band  of  some  3000  men  stood  firm  against  the 
pursuing  Egyptian  cavalry.  "  They  were  very  sticky," 
said  an  officer  simply,  "and  we  couldn't  take  'em  on." 
Later  they  admitted  they  were  beaten,  and  came  in. 
But  except  for  sheer  weariness  of  our  troops,  that  3000 
would  have  been  added  to  the  eleven.  As  it  was,  they 
outmarched    our    advance,  slipped    into   Omdurman 


286  ANALYSIS   AND   CRITICISM. 

before    us,    changed   their    gibbas,    and    looted    the 
Khalifa's  dhurra. 

Nor  was  that  the  end  of  the  sullen  resistance  of  the 
Baggara.  Even  after  they  realised  that  they  were 
hopelessly  beaten  in  the  field,  they  relaxed  but  little  of 
their  sullen  hostility.  Probably  they  were  encouraged 
by  the  Sirdar's  moderation  in  sparing  indiscriminately 
all  the  inhabitants  of  Onadurman  :  whether  that  or 
no,  it  is  certain  that  from  the  day  of  the  fight  to 
the  8th,  the  day  I  came  down,  it  was  not  safe  for 
any  white  man  to  go  into  the  city  unarmed.  I  do 
not  think  any  white  man  was  actually  attacked, — 
certainly  none  was  killed.  But  wandering  Egyptian 
soldiers  were,  and  it  was  not  until  a  batch  or  two 
of  francs  -  tirailleurs  had  been  taken  out  and  shot 
that  decent  order  could  be  maintained  in  the  town. 
That  was  natural  enough.  Omdurman's  only  idea 
of  maintaining  order  was  massacre :  how  could  it 
appreciate  mercy  ? 

By  the  side  of  the  immense  slaughter  of  dervishes, 
the  tale  of  our  casualties  is  so  small  as  to  be  almost 
ridiculous.  The  first  official  list  was  this.  British 
troops :  2  officers  (Captain  Caldecott  and  Lieut.  Gren- 
fell)  killed,  7  wounded ;  23  non-commissioned  officers 
and  men  killed,  99  wounded.  Egyptian  army :  5 
British  officers  and  1  non  -  commissioned  officer 
wounded ;  1  native  officer  killed,  8  wounded ;  20  non- 
commissioned officers  and  men  killed,  221  wounded. 
Total  casualties:  131  British,  256  native— 387. 


OUH  LOSSES.  287 

But  this  estimate,  like  all  early  estimates,  was  under 
the  mark.  Some  of  the  wounded  died — among  them  a 
private  of  the  Lincolns  not  previously  reported ;  others 
were  late  in  reporting  themselves.  The  Egyptian  casu- 
alties among  non-commissioned  officers  and  men  rose 
to  30  killed  and  279  wounded.  Among  the  British 
many  slight  wounds  were  never  reported  at  all.  The 
21st  Lancers,  especially,  according  to  the  testimony  of 
their  own  officers,  lost  24  killed  or  died  of  wounds,  and 
74  wounded.  Of  the  latter,  hardly  more  than  half 
came  under  surgical  treatment  at  all.  Such  wounds, 
of  course,  were  very  slight,  and  were  properly  omitted 
from  the  official  list.  Still,  if  you  count  every  scratch, 
the  British  casualties  go  up  to  nearly  200,  and  the 
Egyptian  to  over  300.  Of  the  British  infantry,  the 
Camerons,  with  a  total  of  2  killed  and  25  wounded, 
lost  most  severely,  as  they  did  at  Atbara ;  and  they 
were  again  followed  by  the  Seaforths  with  2  killed 
and  16  wounded. 

Putting  it  at  ites  highest,  however,  the  victory  was 
even  more  incredibly  cheap  than  the  Atbara.  But  for 
the  rash  handling  of  the  21st  Lancers,  the  mistake  of 
putting  the  British  infantry  behind  a  zariba  instead  of 
a  trench,  and  the  curious  perversity  which  sent  the 
slow  camel-corps  out  into  the  open  with  the  Egyptian 
cavalry,  the  losses  would  have  been  more  insignificant 
still.  The  enemy's  fire,  as  always,  was  too  high,  and 
the  Egyptians  in  their  shelter-trench  hardly  suffered 
from  it  at  all.     Perhaps  the  heaviest  fire  of  the  first 


288  ANALYSIS   AND   CRITICISM. 

part  of  the  action  was  borne  by  Collinson's  supporting 
brigade  and  by  the  hospitals.  In  the  second  action, 
Macdonald's  four  battalions  suffered  most  severely  of 
any  in  the  field — again,  as  at  the  Atbara. 

Among  correspondents,  the  Hon.  Hubert  Howard, 
acting  for  the  'Times'  and  the  'New  York  Herald'  in 
conjunction,  was  killed  by  a  chance  shot  at  the  gate 
of  the  Mahdi's  tomb  at  the  very  end  of  the  day.  From 
Oxford  onward  his  one  end  in  life  had  been  the  woo- 
ing of  adventures.  He  had  found  them  with  the  Cuban 
insurgents  and  in  the  Matabele  rebellion,  where  he 
was  wounded  in  leading  a  charge  of  Cape  boys.  He 
was  foredoomed  from  the  cradle  to  die  in  his  boots, 
and  asked  no  better.  Earlier  in  the  day  he  had  ridden 
with  the  Lancers  through  their  charge  ;  earlier  still  he 
had  been  out  with  the  pickets  and  jumped  his  horse 
over  the  zariba  as  the  dervishes  came  on  to  attack  it. 
No  man  ever  born  was  more  insensible  to  fear.  Ten 
minutes  before  he  was  killed  he  said,  "  This  is  the  best 
day  of  my  life." 

Colonel  Frank  Rhodes,  the  formally  accredited  cor- 
respondent of  the  '  Times,'  was  shot  through  the  flesh 
of  the  right  shoulder  very  early  in  the  fight.  From 
the  very  beginning  no  Sudan  campaign  has  been  com- 
plete without  Colonel  Rhodes,  and  it  must  have  been 
a  keen  disappointment  to  him  to  miss  Omdurman ; 
but  he  bore  that  and  the  wound  with  his  usual  hum- 
orous fortitude.  Mr  Williams,  of  the  'Daily  Chron- 
icle,' had  his  cheek   abraded   by  a  bullet   or  a  chip 


THE  KHALIFA'S   GENERALSHIP.  289 

of  masonry  from  a  ricochet:  it  was  nothing,  and  he 
made  of  it  even  less  than  it  was.  Mr  Cross,  of  the 
'Manchester  Guardian,'  died  afterwards  of  enteric 
fever  at  Abeidieh.  Years  ago  he  had  rowed  in  the 
Oxford  Eight,  but  enteric  delights  in  seizing  the  most 
powerful  frames.  Quiet,  gentle,  patient,  brave,  sin- 
cere— Mr  Cross  was  the  type  of  an  English  gentleman. 

However,  the  battle  of  Omdurman  was  almost  a 
miracle  of  success.  For  that  thanks  are  due,  first, 
to  the  Khalifa,  whose  generalship  throughout  was  a 
masterpiece  of  imbecility.  Had  he  attacked  us  at 
night  with  the  force  and  impetuous  courage  he  showed 
by  day,  it  was  not  at  all  impossible  that  he  might  have 
got  inside  our  position.  Nothing  could  have  come 
alive  up  to  the  Lee-Metfords ;  but  the  Martinis  might 
have  proved  less  irresistible — and  once  inside  in  the 
dark  his  death-scorning  fanatics  would  have  punished 
us  fearfully.  At  close  fighting  they  would  have  been 
as  good  as  we,  and  far  more  numerous :  if  they  had 
been  met  with  rifle -fire,  we  must  have  inevitably 
shot  hundreds  of  our  own  men. 

If  he  had  stood  in  Omdurman  and  fought  as  well  as 
he  fought  in  the  open,  our  loss  must  needs  have  been 
reckoned  in  thousands  instead  of  hundreds.  Instead, 
he  chose  the  one  form  of  fight  which  gave  him  no 
possibility  of  even  a  partial  success.  We  heard  he 
boasted  that  his  men  always  had  broken  our  squares, 
and  he  would  see  if  they  could  not  do  it  again.  They 
would  have  broken  us  if  valour  could  have  dune   it 

T 


290  ANALYSIS   AND   CRITICISM. 

but  he  forgot  that  the  squares  were  bigger  than 
before,  were  better  armed,  so  far  as  the  British  went,' 
and  especially  that  men  like  the  Sirdar  and  Hunter! 
and  Macdonald  knew  every  turn  and  twist  of  dervish 
tactics,  and  are  not  in  the  habit  of  giving  points  away 
to  the  enemy. 

The  Khalifa,  therefore,  came  to  utter  grief  as  a 
general.  As  a  ruler  he  fought  harder  than  many  had 
expected  of  him ;  even  when  the  mass  of  his  army 
was  dead  or  yielded,  he  was  ready  for  one  throw 
more.  When  that  failed,  he  rode  for  it:  suicide 
would  have  been  more  dignified,  as  well  as  simpler  for 
us,  but  besides  suicide  there  was  only  flight  open  to 
him.  Perhaps  suicide  would  have  been  simpler  for 
him  too  in  the  end.  As  a  ruler  he  finished  when  he 
rode  out  of  Omdurman.  His  own  pampered  Baggara 
killed  his  herdsmen  and  looted  the  cattle  that  were  to 
feed  him.  Somebody  betrayed  the  position  of  the 
reserve  camels  that  were  to  carry  his  reserve  wives : 
the  camel -corps  brought  them  in,  and  with  them 
Fatima — the  Sheikh -ed- Din's  mother — an  enormous 
lady,  his  faithful  and  candid  chief  partner  from  the 
days  when  he  could  carry  all  his  property  on  a 
donkey.  Other  wives,  less  staunch,  voluntarily  de- 
serted him ;  his  followers  took  to  killing  one  another. 

He  is  no  more  Khalifa.  He  evaded  the  pursuit  of 
the  cavalry,  however,  joined  the  Sheikh-ed-Din,  who 
had  fled  by  a  different  route,  and  struck  south-west- 
ward.    He  may  reach  his  own  country,  and  if,  from 


THE   BATTLE   OF   GEDAREF.  291 

an  Emperor,  he  likes  to  pass  into  a  petty  bandit,  he 
may  possibly  have  a  few  months  yet  before  him.  But 
his  following  is  too  small  even  for  successful  brigan- 
dage ;  and  he  has  earned  too  general  detestation. 
Any  day  his  head  may  be  brought  into  Omdurman. 
Last  month  he  was  the  arbitrary  master  of  one  of 
the  greatest  dominions — looking  only  to  extent  of 
country — in  the  whole  world.  To-day  he  is  merely 
a  criminal  at  large. 

The  remainder  of  his  forces  took  little  reduction. 
Major  Stuart  Wortley  had  cleared  the  right  bank  up 
to  the  Blue  Nile.  Luckily  for  him,  the  opposition  was 
not  severe,  for  most  of  the  friendlies  bolted  at  sight 
of  a  Baggara,  as  everybody  knew  they  would.  The 
Jaalin,  however,  behaved  well. 

There  now  remained  only  one  dervish  force  in  the 
field — the  garrison  of  Gedaref,  up  the  Blue  Nile  and 
on  the  Abyssinian  border.  It  numbered  3000  men, 
under  Ahmed  Fadil,  the  Khalifa's  cousin.  The  reduc- 
tion of  this  body  was  left  to  Parsons  Pasha,  Governor 
of  Kassala,  and  he  executed  his  task  brilliantly.  The 
details  of  the  action  are  not  yet  known ;  perhaps 
nobody  will  ever  take  the  trouble  to  ask  them.  The 
main  fact  is,  that  Parsons,  with  the  16th  Egyptian 
battalion,  the  Arab  Kassala  Eegulars  (under  two 
British  Bimbashis),  some  camel-corps  and  irregulars 
— in  all  1300  men — attacked  Ahmed  Eadil's  3000,  and 
after  three  hours'  fighting  dispersed  them.  They  lost 
700  killed;  Parsons's  casualties  were  37  men  killed, 


202  ANALYSIS  AND   CRITICISM. 

4  native  officers  and  53  men  wounded.  Osman  Di^na 
was  believed  to  have  fled  in  this  direction,  but  no 
word  has  yet  come  in  about  him.  We  are  not  likely 
to  hear  much  more  about  Osman  Digna. 

For  a  point  or  two  of  criticism — if  the  unprofes- 
sional observer  may  allow  himself  the  liberty — the 
battle  of  Omdurman  was  a  less  brilliant  affair  than 
the  Atbara :  on  the  other  hand,  it  was  more  com- 
plex, more  like  a  modern  battle.  The  Atbara  took 
more  fighting,  Omdurman  more  generalship.  Success 
in  each  was  complete  and  crushing.  Omdurman  was 
final ;  but  it  occurred  to  a  good  many  of  us  between 
10  and  11  that  morning  that  it  was  just  as  well  we 
had  put  Mahmud's  16,000  out  of  harm's  way  at  the 
Atbara.  That  these  were  not  at  the  Khalifa's  dis- 
posal on  September  2nd  was  one  more  of  his  blunders, 
one  piece  more  of  the  Sirdar's  luck. 

The  Sirdar  would  have  won  in  any  case :  that  he 
won  so  crushingly  and  so  cheaply  was  the  gift  of  luck 
and  the  Khalifa.  Three  distinct  mistakes — as  has,  per- 
haps impertinently,  been  hinted  above — were  made  on 
our  side.  Of  these  the  charge  of  the  21st  Lancers  was 
the  most  flagrant.  It  is  perhaps  an  unfortunate  con- 
sequence of  the  modern  development  of  war-correspon- 
dence, and  the  general  influence  of  popular  feeling  on 
every  branch  of  our  Government,  that  what  the  street 
applauds  the  War  Office  is  compelled  at  least  to  con- 
done.    The  populace  has  glorified  the  charge  of  the 


THE  BLUNDER  OF  THE  CHARGE.        293 

21st  for  its  indisputable  heroism ;  the  War  Office  will 
hardly  be  able  to  condemn  it  for  its  equally  indisput- 
able folly.  That  being  so,  it  is  the  less  invidious  to 
say  that  the  charge  was  a  gross  blunder.  For  cavalry 
to  charge  unbroken  infantry,  of  unknown  strength, 
over  unknown  ground,  within  a  mile  of  their  own 
advancing  infantry,  was  as  grave  a  tactical  crime  as 
cavalry  could  possibly  commit.  Their  orders,  it  is 
believed,  were  to  find  out  the  strength  of  the  enemy 
south  of  Gebel  Surgham,  report  to  the  British  infantry 
behind  them,  and,  if  possible,  to  prevent  the  enemy 
from  re-entering  Omdurman.  The  charge  implied  dis- 
regard, or  at  least  inversion,  of  these  orders.  Had  the 
cavalry  merely  reconnoitred  the  body  of  dervishes  they 
attacked,  and  kept  them  occupied  till  Lyttelton's 
brigade  came  up,  the  enemy  would  have  been 
annihilated,  probably  without  the  loss  of  a  man  to  our 
side.  As  it  was,  the  British  cavalry  in  the  charge 
itself  suffered  far  heavier  loss  than  it  inflicted.  And 
by  its  loss  in  horses  it  practically  put  itself  out  of 
action  for  the  rest  of  the  day,  when  it  ought  to  have 
saved  itself  for  the  pursuit.  Thereby  it  contributed 
as  much  as  any  one  cause  to  the  escape  of  the  Khalifa. 
For  the  other  two  points,  General  Gatacre,  being  new 
to  zaribas,  appears  to  have  throughout  attached  undue 
importance  to  them.  At  the  Atbara  he  squandered 
much  of  the  force  of  his  attack  through  an  over- 
estimation  of  the  difficulty  of  Mahmud's  zariba ;  here 


294  ANALYSIS   AND   CRITICISM. 

be  crippled  both  defence  and  readiness  of  offence 
through  overestimating  the  difficulty  of  his  own.  A 
zariba  looks  far  more  formidable  than  a  light  shelter- 
trench  such  as  General  Hunter's  division  employed. 
in  truth  it  is  as  easy  to  shoot  through  as  a  sheet  of 
paper,  and,  for  Sudanis,  almost  as  easy  to  charge 
through.  As  for  sending  out  the  camel-corps  with 
the  Egyptian  cavalry,  it  is  exceedingly  difficult  to 
understand  why  this  was  done  the  very  day  after 
Broadwood's  reconnaissance  to  Gebel  Feried  had  de- 
monstrated their  immobility.  The  truth  appears  to 
be  that  it  is  very  difficult  to  find  a  place  for  such  a 
force  in  a  general  action.  "When  the  frontier  was 
Haifa,  and  the  war  was  mostly  desert  raids  and  counter- 
raids,  nothing  could  have  replaced  this  corps ;  for  other 
than  desert  work  it  has  become  something  of  an 
anomaly. 

These  amateur  criticisms  are  put  forward  with 
diffidence,  and  will,  I  hope,  be  tentatively  received. 
Turning  to  what  is  indisputable,  it  is  impossible  to 
overpraise  the  conduct  of  every  branch  of  the  force. 
Those  of  the  longest  and  widest  experience  said  over 
and  over  again  that  they  had  never  seen  a  battle  in 
which  everybody  was  so  completely  cool  and  set  on 
his  business.  Two  features  were  especially  prominent. 
The  first  was  the  shooting  of  the  British.  It  was  per- 
fect. Some  thought  that  the  Dervishes  were  mown 
down  principally  by  artillery  and  Maxim  fire ;  but  if 


THE  SHOOTING.  295 

the  gun  did  more  execution  than  the  rifle,  it  was  pro- 
bably for  the  first  time  in  the  history  of  war.  An 
examination  of  the  dead  —  cursory  and  partial,  but 
probably  fairly  representative — tends  to  the  opinion 
that  most  of  the  killing,  as  usual,  was  done  by  rifles. 
From  the  British  you  heard  not  one  ragged  volley : 
every  section  fired  with  a  single  report.  The  individ- 
ual firing  was  lively  and  evenly  maintained.  The 
satisfactory  conclusion  is  that  the  British  soldier  will 
keep  absolutely  steady  in  action,  and  knows  how  to 
use  his  weapon :  given  these  two  conditions,  no  force 
existing  will  ever  get  within  half  a  mile  of  him  on 
open  ground,  and  hardly  any  will  try. 

The  native  troops  vindicated  their  courage,  dis- 
cipline, and  endurance  most  nobly.  The  sudden,  un- 
foreseen charges  might  well  have  shaken  the  nerve  of 
the  Egyptians  and  over-excited  the  blacks ;  both  were 
absolutely  cool.  Their  only  fault  was  in  shooting. 
At  almost  every  volley  you  saw  a  bullet  kick  the 
sand  within  fifty  yards  of  the  firing  -  line.  Others 
flew  almost  perpendicular  into  the  air.  Still,  given 
steadiness,  the  mechanical  art  of  shooting  can  be 
taught  with  time  and  patience.  When  you  consider 
that  less  than  six  months  ago  the  equivalent  of  one 
company  in  each  black  battalion  were  raw  dervishes, 
utterly  untrained  in  the  use  of  fire-arms,  the  wonder 
is  they  shot  as  well  as  they  did.  Anyhow  they  shot 
well  enough,  and  in  trying  circumstances  they  shot 


296  ANALYSIS  AND   CRITICISM. 

as  well  as  they  knew  how.     That  is  the  root  of  the 
matter. 

As  for  the  leading  —  happy  the  country  which 
possessed  a  Hunter,  a  Macdonald,  a  Broadwood,  and 
had  hardly  heard  of  any  one  of  them.  It  has  heard 
of  them  now,  and  it  will  be  strange  if  it  does  not 
presently  hear  further. 


297 


XXXIV. 

OMDURMAN. 

It  was  eleven  o'clock.  Four  brigades  were  passing 
slowly  to  right  and  left  of  Gebel  Surgham :  the  Second 
British  and  Second  Egyptian  were  far  ahead,  filmy 
shadows  on  the  eye-searing  sand.  The  dervish  dead 
and  dying  were  strewn  already  over  some  thirty  square 
miles — killed  by  bullets,  killed  by  shrapnel,  killed  by 
shell  from  the  gunboats,  dying  of  wounds  by  the  water, 
dying  of  thirst  in  the  desert.  But  most  lay  dead  in 
the  fighting  line.  Mahdism  had  died  welL  If  it  had 
earned  its  death  by  its  iniquities,  it  had  condoned  its 
iniquities  by  its  death. 

Now  on  to  overtake  the  Sirdar,  to  see  the  city  of 
the  Khalifa.  Even  now,  after  our  triple  fight,  none 
was  quite  assured  of  final  victory.  We  had  killed  a 
prodigious  number  of  men,  but  where  there  were  so 
many  there  might  yet  be  more.  Probably  the  same 
thought  ran  through  many  minds.  If  only  they  fought 
as  well  inside  Omdurman !  That  would  have  spelt 
days  of  fighting  and  thousands  of  dead. 


298  OMDURMAN. 

One  thing,  indeed,  we  knew  by  now:  the  defences  of 
Omdurman  on  the  river  side  existed  no  longer.  On 
the  1st,  from  Gebel  Feried,  we  had  seen  the  gun-boats 
begin  the  bombardment,  backed  by  the  37th  Battery, 
with  its  howitzers,  on  the  opposite  bank.  We  had 
heard  since  of  the  effects.  "  It  was  the  funniest  thing 
you  ever  saw,"  said  a  captain  of  marines.  "  The  boats 
went  up  one  after  another ;  when  we  got  opposite  the 
first  fort,  '  pop '  went  their  guns.  '  Bang,  bang,  bang,' 
went  three  boats  and  stopped  up  the  embrasure. 
Came  to  the  next  fort :  '  pop ' ;  '  bang,  bang,  bang ' : 
stopped  up  that  embrasure.  So  on  all  the  way  up.  A 
little  fort  on  Tuti  Island  had  the  cheek  to  loose  off  its 
pop-gun ;  stopped  that  up.  Then  we  went  on  to 
Khartum.  Forts  there  thought  perhaps  the  boats 
couldn't  shoot  from  behind,  so  they  lay  doggo  till  we 
had  gone  past.  They  found  we  could  shoot  from 
behind." 

So  far  so  good.  But  what  should  we  find  on  the 
land  side  ?  Above  all,  should  we  find  the  Khalifa  ? 
The  only  answer  was  to  go  and  see.  Four  miles  or  so 
south  of  Agaiga  the  yellow  streak  of  Khor  Shamba 
marks  roughly  the  northern  limit  of  Omdurman ; 
thence  to  the  Mahdi's  tomb,  the  great  mosque,  and  the 
Khalifa's  house  is  a  short  three  miles.  The  Second 
British  Brigade  was  watering  at  the  Khor — men  and 
horses  lapping  up  the  half  solid  stuff  till  they  must 
have  been  as  thick  with  mud  inside  as  they  were  out. 
Beyond  it  a  sprinkling  of  tumble-down  huts  refracted 


THE   WHITE   FLAG.  299 

and  heated  sevenfold  the  furnace  of  the  sunlight  ; 
from  among  them  beckoned  the  Sirdar's  flag. 

It  was  about  two  o'clock  when  the  red  flag  moved 
onward  towards  the  Mahdi's  tomb,  heaving  its  torn 
dome  above  the  sea  of  mud  walls.  The  red  and  white 
looked  light  and  gay  beside  the  huge,  cumbrous  raven- 
banner  of  the  Khalifa,  which  flew  sullenly  at  its  side 
Before  the  twin  emblems  of  victory  and  defeat  rode 
the  straight-backed  Sirdar,  General  Hunter  a  head 
behind  him,  behind  them  the  staff.  Behind  came 
the  trampling  2nd  Egyptian  Brigade  and  the  deadly 
smooth-gliding  guns  of  the  32nd  Battery.  Through 
the  sparse  hovels  they  moved  on  ;  presently  they  began 
to  den  sen  into  streets.  We  were  on  the  threshold  of 
the  capital  of  Mahdism. 

And  on  the  threshold  came  out  an  old  man  on  a 
donkey  with  a  white  flag.  The  Khalifa  —  so  we 
believed — had  fled  to  Omdurman,  and  was  at  this 
very  moment  within  his  wall  in  the  centre  of  the 
town ;  but  the  inhabitants  had  come  out  to  surrender. 
Only  one  point  the  old  gentleman  wished  to  be 
assured  of :  were  we  likely  to  massacre  everybody  if 
we  let  them  in  without  resistance?  The  Sirdar 
thought  not.  The  old  man  beamed  at  the  answer, 
and  conveyed  it  to  his  fellow-townsmen ;  on  the  top 
of  which  ceremony  we  marched  into  Omdurman. 

It  began  just  like  any  other  town  or  village  of  the 
mean  Sudan.  Half  the  huts  seemed  left  unfinished, 
the  other   half  to  have  been  deserted  and  fallen  to 


300  OMDL'UMAN. 

pieces.  There  were  no  streets,  no  doors  or  windows 
except  holes,  usually  no  roofs.  As  for  a  garden,  a 
tree,  a  steading  for  a  beast — any  evidence  of  thrift  or 
intelligence,  any  attempt  at  comfort  or  amenity  or 
common  cleanliness, — not  a  single  trace  of  any  of  it. 
Omdurman  was  just  planless  confusion  of  blind  walls 
and  gaping  holes,  shiftless  stupidity,  contented  filth 
and  beastliness. 

But  that,  we  said,  was  only  the  outskirts :  when  we 
come  farther  in  we  shall  surely  find  this  mass  of  popu- 
lation manifesting  some  small  symbols  of  a  great 
dominion.  And  presently  we  came  indeed  into  a 
broader  way  than  the  rest — something  with  the  rude 
semblance  of  a  street.  Only  it  was  paved  with  dead 
donkeys,  and  here  and  there  it  disappeared  in  a 
cullender  of  deep  holes  where  green  water  festered. 
Beside  it  stood  a  few  houses,  such  as  you  see  in 
Metemmeh  or  Berber — two  large,  naked  rooms  stand- 
ing in  a  naked  walled  courtyard.  Even  these  were 
rare :  for  the  rest,  in  this  main  street,  Omdurman  was 
a  rabbit-warren — a  threadless  labyrinth  of  tiny  huts  or 
shelters,  too  flimsy  for  the  name  of  sheds.  Oppression, 
stagnation,  degradation,  were  stamped  deep  on  every 
yard  of  miserable  Omdurman. 

But  the  people !  We  could  hardly  see  the  place  for 
the  people.  We  could  hardly  hear  our  own  voices  for 
their  shrieks  of  welcome.  We  could  hardly  move  for 
their  importunate  greetings.  They  tumbled  over  each 
other  like  ants  from  every  mud  heap,  from  behind  every 


A  HUGE   HAREM.  301 

dunghill,  from  under  every  mat.  Most  of  the  men  still 
wore  their  gibbas  turned  inside  out;  you  could  see 
the  shadows  of  the  patches  through  the  sackcloth. 
They  had  been  trying  to  kill  us  three  hours  before. 
But  they  salaamed,  none  the  less,  and  volleyed  "  Peace 
be  with  you"  in  our  track.  All  the  miscellaneous 
tribes  of  Arabs  whom  Abdullahi's  fears  or  suspicions 
had  congregated  in  his  capital,  all  the  blacks  his 
captains  had  gathered  together  into  franker  slavery — 
indiscriminate,  half-naked,  grinning  the  grin  of  the 
sycophant,  they  held  out  their  hands  and  asked  for 
backsheesh. 

Yet  more  wonderful  were  the  women.  The  multi- 
tude of  women  whom  concupiscence  had  harried  from 
every  recess  of  Africa  and  mewed  up  in  Baggara 
harems  came  out  to  salute  their  new  masters.  There 
were  at  least  three  of  them  to  every  man.  Black  women 
from  Equatoria  and  almost  white  women  from  Egypt, 
plum-skinned  Arabs  and  a  strange  yellow  type  with 
square,  bony  faces  and  tightly-ringleted  black  hair ; 
old  women  and  little  girls  and  mothers  with  babies 
at  the  breast ;  women  who  could  hardly  walk  for  dyed 
cotton  swathings,  muffled  in  close  veils,  and  women 
with  only  a  rag  between  themselves  and  nakedness 
— the  whole  city  was  a  huge  harem,  a  museum  of 
African  races,  a  monstrosity  of  African  lust. 

The  steady  columns  drove  through  the  surge  of 
people:  then  halted  in  lines  of  ebony  statues,  the 
open  -  mouthed  guns  crawling  between  them  to  the 


302  OMDUJRMAN. 

front.  We  had  come  opposite  the  corner  of  a  high 
wall  of  faced  stones,  a  high  twenty  feet  solid  without 
a  chip  or  chink.  Now !  This  was  the  great  wall  of 
Omdurman,  the  Khalifa's  citadel.  And  listen  !  Boom 
— boom — a  heavy  melancholy  note,  half  bellow,  half 
wail.  It  was  the  great  ombeya,  the  war-horn.  The 
Khalifa  was  inside,  and  he  was  rallying  the  malazemin 
of  his  bodyguard  to  light  their  last  fight  in  their  last 
stronghold. 

Less  than  3000  men  were  standing,  surrounded  by 
ten  times  their  number,  within  ten  feet  of  this  gigantic 
wall.  But  for  the  moment  they  were  safe  enough. 
The  Khalifa,  demented  in  all  he  did  through  these  last 
days  of  his  perdition,  had  made  no  banquette  inside 
his  rampart ;  and  if  it  was  hard  to  scale,  it  was  impos- 
sible to  defend.  The  pinch  would  come  when  we 
went  inside. 

One  column  moved  off  along  the  street;  another — 
the  13th  Sudanese  with  four  guns  of  the  battery — 
away  to  the  left  under  the  wall  towards  the  Nile.  The 
road  was  what  you  already  felt  to  be  typical  of  Mah- 
dism — pools  of  rank  stagnation,  hills  and  chasms  of 
rubble.  The  guns  fell  behind  to  cut  their  road  a  bit ; 
the  infantry  went  on  till  they  came  down  to  the  brim- 
ming blue  river.  Here  were  the  forts  and  the  loop- 
holed  walls,  and  here,  steuning  serene  and  masterful 
to  and  fro,  were  the  inevitable  gunboats.  Cr-r-rack  ! 
Three  crisp  Maxim  rounds:  the  place  was  tenanted 
yet. 


THKOUGH  THE  BREACH.  303 

At  the  corner  we  come  upon  a  breach — 500  cubic 
feet  or  so  of  fissure  —  torn  by  a  lyddite  shell.  Over 
the  rubble  we  scrambled,  then  through  a  stout  double- 
leafed  gate,  pulses  leaping :  we  were  inside.  But  as 
yet  only  half  inside — only  in  a  broad  road  between 
another  high  stone  wall  on  our  right  and  the  river 
on  our  left.  "We  saw  the  choked  embrasures  and  a 
maimed  gun  or  two,  and  walls  so  clownishly  loop-holed 
that  a  man  could  only  get  one  oblique  shot  at  a  gun- 
boat, and  then  wait  till  the  next  came  up  to  have  one 
shot  at  that.  We  saw  worse  things — horrors  such  as 
do  not  sicken  in  the  mass  on  the  battle-field — a  scarlet 
man  sitting  with  his  chin  on  his  knees,  hit  by  a  shell, 
clothed  from  head  to  foot  in  his  own  blood, — a  woman, 
young  and  beautifully  formed,  stark  naked,  rolling  from 
side  to  side,  moaning.  As  yet  we  saw  not  one  fighting 
man,  and  still  we  could  feel  that  the  place  was  alive. 
"We  pushed  on  between  walls,  we  knew  not  whither, 
through  breathing  emptiness,  through  pulsing  silence. 

Round  a  corner  we  came  suddenly  on  a  bundle  of 
dirty  patched  cloth  and  dirty,  lean,  black  limbs  —  a 
typical  dervish.  He  was  alive  and  unarmed,  and  threw 
up  his  hands :  he  was  taken  for  a  guide.  Next  at  our 
feet,  cutting  the  road,  we  found  a  broad  khor,  flowing 
in  from  the  Nile,  washing  up  above  the  base  of  the 
wall.  Four  dervishes  popped  out,  seemingly  from 
dead  walls  beyond.  They  came  towards  us  and  pro- 
bably wished  to  surrender ;  but  the  blacks  fired,  and 
they  dived  into  their  dead  walls  again.     The  guide 


304  OMDURMAN. 

said  the  water  was  not  deep,  and  a  crowd  of  men  and 
women  suddenly  shooting  up  from  the  rear  bore  him 
out  by  fording  it.  Most  of  these  new  -  reconciled 
foes  had  baskets  to  take  away  their  late  master's  loot. 
We  plashed  through  the  water — and  here  at  last,  in 
the  face  of  the  high  wall  on  our  right,  was  a  great 
wooden  gate.  Six  blacks  stood  by  with  the  bayonet, 
while  another  beat  it  open  with  his  rifle-butt.  We 
stepped  inside  and  gasped  with  wonder  and  disap- 
pointment. 

For  the  inside  of  the  Kali  fa's  own  enclosure  was 
even  more  squalid,  an  even  more  wonderful  teeming 
beehive  than  the  outer  town  itself.  Like  all  tyrants, 
he  was  constantly  increasing  his  body-guard,  till  the 
fortified  enclosure  was  bursting  with  them.  From  the 
height  of  a  saddle  you  could  see  that  this  was  only 
part  of  the  citadel,  an  enclosure  within  an  enclosure. 
Past  a  little  guard-house  at  the  gate  a  narrow  path 
ran  up  the  centre  of  it ;  all  the  rest  was  a  chaos  of 
piggish  dwelling-holes.  Tiny  round  straw  tukls,  mats 
propped  up  a  foot  from  earth  with  crooked  sticks, 
dome-topped  mud  kennels  that  a  man  could  just  crawl 
into,  exaggerated  bird's  nests  falling  to  pieces  of  stick 
and  straw — lucky  was  the  man  of  the  Khalifa's  guard 
who  could  house  himself  and  his  family  in  a  mud 
cabin  the  size  of  an  omnibus.  On  every  side,  of  every 
type,  they  jumbled  and  jostled  and  crushed  ;  and  they 
sweated  and  stank  with  people.  For  one  or  two  old 
men  in  new  gibbas  came  out,  and  one  or  two  younger 


IMPOSING   ON   THE   SAVAGE.  305 

men  naked  and  wounded.  When  we  offered  them 
no  harm  the  Khalifa's  body-guard  broke  cover.  One 
second  the  place  might  have  been  an  uncouth 
cemetery ;  the  next  it  was  a  gibbering  monkey-house. 
T'rom  naked  hovels,  presto !  it  turned  to  naked  bodies. 
Climbing,  squeezing,  burrowing,  they  came  out  like 
vermin  from  a  burning  coat. 

They  were  just  as  skinny  and  shabby  as  any  other 
dervishes ;  as  the  Omdurman  Guards  they  were  a 
failure.  They  were  all  very  friendly,  the  men  anxious 
to  tell  what  they  knew  of  the  Khalifa's  movements — 
which  was  nothing — the  women  overjoyed  to  fetch 
drinks  of  water.  But  when  they  were  told  to  bring 
out  their  arms  and  ammunition  they  became  a  bit 
sticky,  as  soldiers  say.  They  looked  like  refusing, 
and  a  snap-shot  round  a  corner  which  killed  a  black 
soldier  began  to  look  nasty.  There  must  have  been 
thousands  of  them  all  about  us,  all  under  cover,  all 
knowing  every  twist  and  turn  of  their  warren.  But  a 
confident  front  imposed  on  them,  as  it  will  on  all 
savages.  A  raised  voice,  a  hand  on  the  shoulder — and 
they  were  slipping  away  to  their  dens  and  slouching 
back  with  Eemingtons  and  bandoliers.  The  first 
came  very,  very  slowly ;  as  the  pile  grew  they  came 
quicker  and  quicker.  From  crawling  they  changed 
in  five  minutes  to  a  trot ;  they  smiled  all  over,  and 
informed  zealously  against  anybody  who  hung  back. 
Why  not  ?  Three  masterless  hours  will  hardly  wipe 
out  the  rest  of  a  lifetime  of  slavery. 

U 


306  OMDDRMAN. 

Maxwell  Bey  left  a  guard  over  the  arras,  and  went 
back :  it  was  not  in  this  compartment  that  we  should 
find  the  Khalifa.  We  went  on  through  the  walled 
street  along  the  river-front ;  the  gunboats  were  still 
Maximing  now  and  again  a  cable  or  two  ahead.  So 
on,  until  we  came  to  the  southern  river  corner  of  the 
hold,  and  here  was  a  winding,  ascending  path  between 
two  higher,  stouter  walls  than  ever.  Here  was  a 
stouter  wooden  gate ;  it  must  be  here.  In  this  en- 
closure, too,  was  a  multitude  of  dwellings,  but  larger 
and  more  amply  spaced.  The  Sirdar  overtook  us 
now,  and  the  guns :  the  gunners  had  cut  their  road 
and  levelled  the  breach,  and  tugged  the  first  gate 
off  its  hinges.  On ;  we  must  be  coming  to  it  now. 
"We  were  quite  close  upon  the  towering,  shell -torn 
skeleton  of  the  Mahdi's  tomb.  The  way  broadened 
to  a  square.  But  the  sun  had  some  time  struck 
level  into  our  eyes.  He  went  down ;  in  ten  minutes 
it  would  be  dark.  Now  or  never!  Here  we  were 
opposite  the  tomb ;  to  our  left  front  was  the  Khalifa's 
own  palace.  "We  were  there,  if  only  he  was.  A  sec- 
tion of  blacks  filed  away  to  the  left  through  the 
walled  passage  that  led  to  the  door.  Another  filed 
to  the  right,  behind  the  tomb,  towards  his  private 
iron  mosque.  We  waited.  "We  waited.  And  then, 
on  left  and  right,  they  reappeared,  rather  draggingly. 

Gone!  None  could  know  it  for  certain  till  the 
place  had  been  searched  through  as  well  as  the 
darkness  would  let  it.     Next  morning  some  of  the 


LOOTING   THE   KHALIFA'S   CORN.  307 

smaller  Emirs  avowed  that  they  knew  it.  He  had 
been  supposed  to  be  surrounded,  but  who  could  stop 
every  earth  in  such  a  spinny  ?  He  had  bolted  out 
of  one  door  as  we  went  in  at  another. 

We  filed  back.  For  the  present  we  had  missed 
the  crowning  capture.  But  going  back  under  the 
wall  we  found  a  very  good  assurance  that  Abudullahi 
was  no  more  a  ruler.  The  street  under  the  wall  was 
now  a  breathless  stream  of  men  and  women,  all  carry- 
ing baskets — the  whole  population  of  the  Khalifa's 
capital  racing  to  pilfer  the  Khalifa's  grain.  There 
was  no  doubt  about  their  good  disposition  now.  They 
salaamed  with  enthusiasm,  and  "lued"  most  genuinely; 
one  flat-nosed  black  lady  forgot  propriety  so  far  as  to 
kiss  my  hand.  Wonderful  workings  of  the  savage 
mind  !  Six  hours  before  they  were  dying  in  regiments 
for  their  master;  now  they  were  looting  his  corn. 
Six  hours  before  they  were  slashing  our  wounded 
to  pieces ;   now  they  were  asking  us  for  coppers. 

By  this  time  the  darkling  streets  were  choked 
with  the  men  and  horses  and  guns  and  camels  of 
the  inpouring  army.  You  dragged  along  a  mile  an 
hour,  clamped  immovably  into  a  mass  of  troops. 
A  hundred  good  spearmen  now — but  the  Dervishes 
were  true  savages  to  the  end :  they  had  decided 
that  they  were  beaten,  and  beaten  they  remained. 
Soon  it  was  pitchy  night;  where  the  bulk  of  the 
army  bivouacked,  I  know  not,  neither  do  they.  I 
stumbled  on  the  Second  British  Brigade,  which  had 


308  OMDURMAN. 

had  a  relatively  easy  day,  and  there,  by  a  solitary 
candle,  the  Sirdar,  flat  on  his  back,  was  dictating 
his  despatch  to  Colonel  Wingate,  flat  on  his  belly. 
I  scraped  a  short  hieroglyphic  scrawl  on  a  telegraph 
form,  and  fell  asleep  on  the  gravel  with  a  half-eaten 
biscuit  in  my  mouth. 

Next  morning  the  army  awoke  refreshed,  and  was 
able  to  appreciate  to  the  full  the  beauties  of 
Omdurman.  When  you  saw  it  close,  and  by  the 
light  of  day,  the  last  suggestion  of  stateliness  vanished. 
It  had  nothing  left  but  size — mere  stupid  multiplica- 
tion of  rubbish.  One  or  two  relics  of  civilisation  were 
found.  Taps  in  the  Khalifa's  bath  ;  a  ship's  chrono- 
meter ;  a  small  pair  of  compasses  in  a  boy's  writing- 
desk,  and  a  larger  pair  modelled  clumsily  upon  them ; 
the  drooping  telegraph  wire  and  cable  to  Khartum ; 
Gordon's  old  "  Bordein,"  a  shell-torn  husk  of  broken 
wood  round  engines  that  still  worked  marvellously ; 
a  few  half  -  naked  Egyptians,  once  Government 
servants ;  Charles  Neufeld,  the  captive  German  mer- 
chant, quoting  Schiller  over  his  ankle-chains  ;  Sister 
Teresa,  the  captive  nun,  forcibly  married  to  a  Greek, 
presenting  a  green  orange  to  Colonel  Wingate,  the 
tried  friend  she  had  never  seen  before, — such  was  the 
pathetic  flotsam  overtaken  by  the  advancing  wave  of 
Mahdism,  now  stranded  by  its  ebb. 

The  Mahdi's  tomb  was  shoddy  brick,  and  you  dared 
not  talk  in  it  lest  the  rest  of  the  dome  should  come 
on   your  head.     The  inside  was  tawdry  panels  and 


FILTH  AND   LUST   AND    BLOOD.  309 

railings  round  a  gaudy  pall.  The  Khalifa's  house  was 
the  house  of  a  well-to-do- fellah,  and  a  dead  donkey 
putrified  under  its  window-holes.  The  arsenal  was 
the  reduplication  of  all  the  loot  that  has  gone  for  half 
a  dollar  apiece  these  three  years.  The  great  mosque 
was  a  wall  round  a  biggish  square  with  a  few  stick- 
and-thatch  booths  at  one  end  of  it.  The  iron  mosque 
was  a  galvanised  shed,  and  would  have  repulsed 
the  customers  of  a  third-rate  country  photographer. 
Everything  was  wretched. 

And  foul.  They  dropped  their  dung  where  they 
listed ;  they  drew  their  water  from  beside  green 
sewers  ;  they  had  filled  the  streets  and  khors  with 
dead  donkeys ;  they  left  their  brothers  to  rot  and  puff 
up  hideously  in  the  sun.  The  stench  of  the  place  was 
in  your  nostrils,  in  your  throat,  in  your  stomach.  You 
could  not  eat ;  you  dared  not  drink.  Well  you  could 
believe  that  this  was  the  city  where  they  crucified  a 
man  to  steal  a  handful  of  base  dollars,  and  sold 
mother  and  daughter  together  to  be  divided  five 
hundred  miles  apart,  to  live  and  die  in  the  same 
bestial  concubinage. 

The  army  moved  out  to  Khor  Shamba  during  the 
3rd.  The  accursed  place  was  left  to  fester  and  fry  in 
its  own  filth  and  lust  and  blood.  The  reek  of  its 
abominations  steamed  up  to  heaven  to  justify  us  of 
our  vengeance. 


310 


XXXV. 

THE    FUNERAL   OF   GORDON. 

The  steamers — screws,  paddles,  stem-wheelers — plug 
plugged  their  steady  way  up  the  full  Nile.  Past  the 
northern  fringe  of  Oradurman  where  the  sheikh  came 
out  with  the  white  flag,  past  the  breach  where  we  went 
in  to  the  Khalifa's  stronghold,  past  the  choked  em- 
brasures and  the  l?cerated  Mahdi's  tomb,  past  the 
swamp-rooted  palms  of  Tuti  Island.  We  looked  at  it 
all  with  a  dispassionate,  impersonal  curiosity.  It  was 
Sunday  morning,  and  that  furious  Friday  seemed 
already  half  a  lifetime  behind  us.  The  volleys  had 
dwindled  out  of  our  ears,  and  the  smoke  out  of  our 
nostrils ;  and  to-day  we  were  going  to  the  funeral  of 
Gordon.  After  nearly  fourteen  years  the  Christian 
soldier  was  to  have  Christian  burial. 

On  the  steamers  there  was  a  detachment  of  every 
corps,  white  or  black  or  yellow,  that  had  taken  part 
in  the  vengeance.  Every  white  officer  that  could  be 
spared  from  duty  was  there,  fifty  men  picked  from 
each  British  battalion,  one  or  two  from  each  unit  of 


THE   AVENGERS.  311 

the  Egyptian  army.  That  we  were  going  up  to  Khar- 
tum at  all  was  evidence  of  our  triumph  ;  yet,  if  you 
looked  about  you,  triumph  was  not  the  note.  The 
most  reckless  subaltern,  the  most  barbarous  black, 
was  touched  with  gravity.  We  were  going  to  per- 
form a  necessary  duty,  which  had  been  put  off  far, 
far  too  long. 

Fourteen  years  next  January — yet  even  through 
that  humiliating  thought  there  ran  a  whisper  of 
triumph.  We  may  be  slow;  but  in  that  very  slow- 
ness we  show  that  we  do  not  forget.  Soon  or  late, 
we  give  our  own  their  due.  Here  were  men  that 
fought  for  Gordon's  life  while  he  lived, — Kitchener, 
who  went  disguised  and  alone  among  furious  enemies 
to  get  news  of  him ;  Wauchope,  who  poured  out 
his  blood  like  water  at  Tamai  and  Kirbekan ;  Stuart- 
Wortley,  who  missed  by  but  two  days  the  chance 
of  dying  at  Gordon's  side.  And  here,  too,  were  boys 
who  could  hardly  lisp  when  their  mothers  told  them 
that  Gordon  was  dead,  grown  up  now  and  appearing 
in  the  fulness  of  time  to  exact  eleven  thousand  lives 
for  one.  Gordon  may  die — other  Gordons  may  die 
in  the  future — but  the  same  clean-limbed  brood  will 
grow  up  and  avenge  them. 

The  boats  stopped  plugging  and  there  was  silence. 
We  were  tying  up  opposite  a  grove  of  tall  palms ;  on 
the  bank  was  a  crowd  of  natives  curiously  like  the 
backsheesh  -  hunters  who  gather  to  greet  the  Nile 
steamers.     They  stared  at  us ;  but  we  looked  beyond 


312         THE  FUNERAL  OF  GORDON. 

them  to  a  large  building  rising  from  a  crumbling  quay. 
You  could  see  that  it  had  once  been  a  handsome  edi- 
fice of  the  type  you  know  in  Cairo  or  Alexandria — all 
stone  and  stucco,  two-storied,  faced  with  tall  regular 
windows.  Now  the  upper  storey  was  clean  gone;  the 
Mind  windows  were  filled  up  with  bricks;  the  stucco 
was  all  scars,  and  you  could  walk  up  to  the  roof  on 
rubble.  In  front  was  an  acacia,  such  as  grow  in 
Ismailia  or  the  Gezireh  at  Cairo,  only  unpruned — 
deep  luscious  green,  only  drooping  like  a  weeping 
willow.  At  that  most  ordinary  sight  everybody  grew 
very  solemn.  For  it  was  a  piece  of  a  new  world,  or 
rather  of  an  old  world,  utterly  different  from  the 
squalid  mud,  the  baking  barrenness  of  Omdurman.  A 
facade  with  tall  windows,  a  tree  with  green  leaves — 
the  facade  battered  and  blind,  the  tree  drooping  to 
earth — there  was  no  need  to  tell  us  we  were  at  a  grave. 
In  that  forlorn  ruin,  and  that  disconsolate  acacia,  the 
bones  of  murdered  civilisation  lay  before  us. 

The  troops  formed  up  before  the  palace  in  three 
sides  of  a  rectangle — Egyptians  to  our  left  as  we  looked 
from  the  river,  British  to  the  right.  The  Sirdar,  the 
generals  of  division  and  brigade,  and  the  staff  stood  in 
the  open  space  facing  the  palace.  Then  on  the  roof 
— almost  on  the  very  spot  where  Gordon  fell,  though 
the  steps  by  which  the  butchers  mounted  have  long 
since  vanished — we  were  aware  of  two  flagstaves.  By 
the  right-hand  halliards  stood  Lieutenant  Staveley, 
E.N.,  and  Captain  Watson,  K.K.R. ;  by  the  left  hand 


THE   SEAL  ON   KHARTUM.  313 

Birabashi    Mitford    and    his    Excellency's    Egyptian 
A.D.C. 

The  Sirdar  raised  his  hand.  A  pull  on  the  halliards : 
up  ran,  out  flew,  the  Union  Jack,  tugging  eagerly  at 
his  reins,  dazzling  gloriously  in  the  sun,  rejoicing  in 
his  strength  and  his  freedom.  "Bang!"  went  the 
"Melik's"  12|-pounder,  and  the  boat  quivered  to  her 
backbone.  "  God  Save  our  Gracious  Queen  "  hymned 
the  Guards'  band—"  bang ! "  from  the  "  Melik  "—and 
Sirdar  and  private  stood  stiff — "  bang ! " — to  attention, 
every  hand  at  the  helmet  peak  in — "  bang ! " — salute. 
The  Egyptian  flag  had  gone  up  at  the  same  instant ; 
and  now,  the  same  ear-smashing,  soul-uplifting  bangs 
marking  time,  the  band  of  the  11th  Sudanese  was 
playing  the  Khedivial  hymn.  "  Three  cheers  for  the 
Queen  ! "  cried  the  Sirdar :  helmets  leaped  in  the  air, 
and  the  melancholy  ruins  woke  to  the  first  wholesome 
shout  of  all  these  years.  Then  the  same  for  the 
Khedive.  The  comrade  flags  stretched  themselves 
lustily,  enjoying  their  own  again;  the  bands  pealed 
forth  the  pride  of  country;  the  twenty- one  guns 
banged  forth  the  strength  of  war.  Thus,  white  men 
and  black,  Christian  and  Moslem,  Anglo-Egypt  set  her 
seal  once  more,  for  ever,  on  Khartum. 

Before  we  had  time  to  think  such  thoughts  over  to 
ourselves,  the  Guards  were  playing  the  Dead  March  in 
"  Saul."  Then  the  black  band  was  playing  the  march 
from  Handel's  "  Scipio,"  which  in  England  generally 
goes  with  "  Toll  for  the  Brave  " ;  this  was  in  memory 


314         THE  FUNERAL  OF  GORDON. 

of  those  loyal  men  among  the  Khedive's  subjects  who 
could  have  saved  themselves  by  treachery,  but  pre- 
ferred to  die  with  Gordon.  Next  fell  a  deeper  hush 
than  ever,  except  for  the  solemn  minute  guns  that 
had  followed  the  fierce  salute.  Four  chaplains — 
Catholic,  Anglican,  Presbyterian,  and  Methodist — 
came  slowly  forward  and  ranged  themselves,  with 
their  hacks  to  the  palace,  just  before  the  Sirdar.  The 
Presbyterian  read  the  Fifteenth  Psalm.  The  Anglican 
led  the  rustling  whisper  of  the  Lord's  Prayer.  Snow- 
haired  Father  Brindle,  best  beloved  of  priests,  laid  his 
helmet  at  his  feet,  and  read  a  memorial  prayer  bare- 
headed in  the  sun.  Then  came  forward  the  pipers 
and  wailed  a  dirge,  and  the  Sudanese  played  "  Abide 
with  me."  Perhaps  lips  did  twitch  just  a  little  to  see 
the  ebony  heathens  fervently  blowing  out  Gordon's 
favourite  hymn  ;  but  the  most  irresistible  incongruity 
would  hardly  have  made  us  laugh  at  that  moment. 
And  there  were  those  who  said  the  cold  Sirdar  himself 
could  hardly  speak  or  see,  as  General  Hunter  and  the 
rest  stepped  out  according  to  their  rank  and  shook  his 
hand.  What  wonder  ?  He  has  trodden  this  road  to 
Khartum  for  fourteen  years,  and  he  stood  at  the  goal 
at  last. 

Thus  with  Maxim-Nordenfeldt  and  Bible  we  buried 
Gordon  after  the  manner  of  his  race.  The  parade 
was  over,  the  troops  were  dismissed,  and  for  a  short 
space  we  walked  in  Gordon's  garden.  Gordon  has 
become  a  legend  with  his  countrymen,  and  they  all 


IN   GORDON'S   GARDEN.  315 

but  deify  him  dead  who  would  never  have  heard  of 
him  had  he  lived.  But  in  this  garden  you  somehow 
came  to  know  Gordon  the  man,  not  the  myth,  and  to 
feel  near  to  him.  Here  was  an  Englishman  doing  his 
duty,  alone  and  at  the  instant  peril  of  his  life;  yet 
still  he  loved  his  garden.  The  garden  was  a  yet  more 
pathetic  ruin  than  the  palace.  The  palace  accepted 
its  doom  mutely ;  the  garden  strove  against  it.  Un- 
trimmed,  unwatered,  the  oranges  and  citrons  still 
struggled  to  bear  their  little,  hard,  green  knobs,  as  if 
they  had  been  full  ripe  fruit.  The  pomegranates  put 
out  their  vermilion  star-flowers,  but  the  fruit  was 
small  and  woody  and  juiceless.  The  figs  bore  better, 
but  they,  too,  were  small  and  without  vigour.  Bankly 
overgrown  with  dhurra,  a  vine  still  trailed  over  a  low 
roof  its  pale  leaves  and  limp  tendrils,  but  yielded 
not  a  sign  of  grapes.  It  was  all  green,  and  so  far 
vivid  and  refreshing  after  Omdurman.  But  it  was 
the  green  of  nature,  not  of  cultivation :  leaves  grew 
large  and  fruit  grew  small,  and  dwindled  away.  Ee- 
luctantly,  despairingly,  Gordon's  garden  was  dropping 
back  to  wilderness.  And  in  the  middle  of  the  defeated 
fruit-trees  grew  rankly  the  hateful  Sodom  apple,  the 
poisonous  herald  of  desolation. 

The  bugle  broke  in  upon  us  ;  we  went  back  to  the 
boats.  We  were  quicker  steaming  back  than  steaming 
up.  We  were  not  a  whit  less  chastened,  but  every 
man  felt  lighter.  We  came  with  a  sigh  of  shame :  we 
went  away  with  a  sigh  of  relief.     The  long-delayed 


316         THE  FUNERAL  OF  GORDON. 

duty  was  done.  The  bones  of  our  countrymen  were 
shattered  and  scattered  abroad,  and  no  man  knows 
their  place ;  none  the  less  Gordon  had  his  due  burial 
at  last.  So  we  steamed  away  to  the  roaring  camp 
and  left  him  alone  again.  Yet  not  one  nor  two  looked 
back  at  the  mouldering  palace  and  the  tangled  gar- 
den with  a  new  and  a  great  contentment.  We  left 
Gordon  alone  again — but  alone  in  majesty  under  the 
conquering  ensign  of  his  own  people. 


317 


XXXVI. 

AFTER    THE   CONQUEST. 

The  curtain  comes  down ;  the  tragedy  of  the  Sudan  is 
played  out.  Sixteen  years  of  toilsome  failure,  of  toil- 
some, slow  success,  and  at  the  end  we  have  fought  our 
way  triumphantly  to  the  point  where  we  began. 

It  has  cost  us  much,  and  it  has  profited  us — how 
little  ?  It  would  be  hard  to  count  the  money,  im- 
possible to  measure  the  blood.  Blood  goes  by  quality 
as  well  as  quantity  ;  who  can  tell  what  future  deeds  we 
lost  when  we  lost  Gordon  and  Stewart  and  Earle, 
Burnaby  who  rode  to  Khiva,  and  Owen  who  rode 
Father  O'Flynn?  By  shot  and  steel,  by  sunstroke 
and  pestilence,  by  sheer  wear  of  work,  the  Sudan  has 
eaten  up  our  best  by  hundreds.  Of  the  men  who 
escaped  with  their  lives,  hundreds  more  will  bear  the 
mark  of  its  fangs  till  they  die  ;  hardly  one  of  them  but 
will  die  the  sooner  for  the  Sudan.  And  what  have  we 
to  show  in  return  ? 

At  first  you  think  we  have  nothing ;  then  you  think 
again,  and  see  we  have  very  much.     We  have  gained 


318  AFTER   THE   CONQUEST. 

precious  national  self-respect.  "We  wished  to  keep  our 
hands  clear  of  the  Sudan  ;  we  were  drawn  unwillingly 
to  meddle  with  it;  we  blundered  when  we  suffered 
Gordon  to  go  out ;  we  fiddled  and  failed  when  we 
tried  to  bring  him  back.  We  were  humiliated  and 
we  were  out  of  pocket ;  we  had  embarked  in  a  foolish 
venture,  and  it  had  turned  out  even  worse  than  any- 
body had  foreseen.  Now  this  was  surely  the  very 
point  where  a  nation  of  shopkeepers  should  have  cut 
its  losses  and  turned  to  better  business  elsewhere.  If 
we  were  the  sordid  counter-jumpers  that  Frenchmen 
try  to  think  us,  we  should  have  ruled  a  red  line,  and 
thought  no  more  of  a  worthless  land,  bottomless  for 
our  gold,  thirsty  for  our  blood.  We  did  nothing  such. 
We  tried  to;  but  our  dogged  fighting  dander  would 
not  let  us.  We  could  not  sit  down  till  the  defeat  was 
redeemed.  We  gave  more  money ;  we  gave  the  lives 
of  men  we  loved — and  we  conquered  the  Sudan  again. 
Now  we  can  permit  ourselves  to  think  of  it  in  peace. 

The  vindication  of  our  self-respect  was  the  great 
treasure  we  won  at  Khartum,  and  it  was  worth  the 
price  we  paid  for  it.  Most  people  will  hardly  per- 
suade themselves  there  is  not  something  else  thrown 
in.  The  trade  of  the  Sudan  ?  For  now  and  for  many 
years  you  may  leave  that  out  of  the  account.  The 
Sudan  is  a  desert,  and  a  depopulated  desert.  North- 
ward of  Khartum  it  is  a  wilderness;  southward  it  is 
a  devastation.  It  was  always  a  poor  country,  and  it 
always  must  be.     Slaves  and  ivory  were  its  wealth  in 


THE  WORTHLESS   SUDAN.  319 

the  old  time,  but  now  ivory  is  all  but  exterminated, 
and  slaves  must  be  sold  no  more.  Gum-arabic  and 
ostrich  feathers  and  Dongola  dates  will  hardly  buy 
cotton  stuffs  enough  for  Lancashire  to  feel  the 
difference. 

From  Haifa  to  above  Berber,  where  rain  never  falls, 
the  Nile  only  licks  the  lip  of  the  desert.  The  father 
of  Egypt  is  the  stepfather  of  the  Sudan.  With  the 
help  of  water-wheels  and  water-hoists  a  few  patches 
of  corn  and  fodder  can  be  grown,  enough  for  a  dotted 
population  on  the  bank.  But  hardly  anywhere  does 
the  area  of  vegetation  push  out  more  than  a  mile 
from  the  stream ;  oftener  it  is  a  matter  of  yards. 
Such  a  country  can  never  be  rich.  But  why  not 
irrigate  ?  Simply  because  every  pint  of  water  you 
take  out  of  the  Nile  for  the  Sudan  means  a  pint  less 
for  Egypt.  And  it  so  happens  that  at  this  very  mo- 
ment the  new  barrages  at  Assuan  and  Assiut  are 
making  the  distribution  of  water  to  Egypt  more 
precise  and  scientific  than  ever.  Lower  Egypt  is  to 
be  enlarged ;  Upper  Egypt  is,  in  part  at  least,  to 
secure  permanent  irrigation,  independent  of  the  Nile 
flood,  and  therewith  two  crops  a-year.  This  means 
a  more  rigid  economy  of  water  than  ever,  and  who 
will  give  a  thought  to  the  lean  Sudan  ?  What  it  can 
dip  up  in  buckets  fat  Egypt  will  never  miss,  and  that 
it  may  take — no  more. 

As  for  the  southward  lands,  they  get  rain,  to  be 
sure,  and  so  far  they  are  cultivable ;   only  there  is 


320  AFTER  THE   CONQUEST. 

nobody  left  to  cultivate  them.  For  three  years 
now  the  Egyptian  army  has  been  marching  past 
broken  mud  hovels  by  the  river  -  side.  Dust  has 
blown  over  their  foundations,  Dead  Sea  fruit  grows 
rankly  within  their  walls.  Sometimes,  as  in  old 
Berber,  you  come  on  a  city  with  streets  and  shops — 
quite  ruined  and  empty.  Here  lived  the  Sudanese 
whom  the  Khalifa  has  killed  out.  And  in  the  more 
fertile  parts  of  the  Sudan  it  is  the  same.  Worse 
still — in  that  the  very  fertility  woke  up  the  cupidity 
of  the  Baggara,  and  the  owner  was  driven  out,  sold 
in  the  slave-market,  shipped  up  Nile  to  die  of  Fashoda 
fever,  cut  to  pieces,  crucified,  impaled — anything  you 
like,  so  long  as  the  Khalifa's  fellow -tribesmen  got 
his  land.  In  Kordofan,  even  of  old  days,  lions  in 
bad  years  would  attack  villages  in  bands :  to  -  day 
they  openly  dispute  the  mastery  of  creation  with 
men.  From  Abyssinia  to  Wadai  swelters  the  miser- 
able Sudan — beggarly,  empty,  weed-grown,  rank  with 
blood. 

It  will  recover, — with  time,  no  doubt,  but  it  will 
recover.  Only,  meanwhile,  it  will  want  some  tend- 
ing. There  is  not  likely  to  be  much  trouble  in  the 
way  of  fighting:  in  the  present  weariness  of  slaughter 
the  people  will  be  but  too  glad  to  sit  down  under  any 
decent  Government.  There  is  no  reason — unless  ifc 
be  complications  with  outside  Powers,  like  France  or 
Abyssinia — why  the  old  Egyptian  empire  should  not 
be  reoccupied  up  to  the  Albert  Nyanza  and  Western 


THE    FUTURE   RULE.  321 

Darfur.  But  if  this  is  done — and  done  it  surely  .should 
be — two  things  must  be  remembered.  First,  it  must 
be  militarily  administered  for  many  years  to  come, 
and  that  by  British  men.  Take  the  native  Egyptian 
official  even  to-day.  No  words  can  express  his  in- 
eptitude, his  laziness,  his  helplessness,  his  dread  of 
responsibility,  his  maddening  red-tape  formalism.  His 
panacea  in  every  unexpected  case  is  the  same.  "  It 
must  be  put  in  writing ;  I  must  ask  for  instructions." 
He  is  no  longer  corrupt — at  least,  no  longer  so  cor- 
rupt as  he  was — but  he  would  be  if  he  dared.  The 
native  officer  is  better  than  the  civilian  official;  but 
even  with  him  it  is  the  exception  to  find  a  man  both 
capable  and  incorruptible.  To  put  Egyptians,  cor- 
rupt, lazy,  timid,  often  rank  cowards,  to  rule  the 
Sudan,  would  be  to  invite  another  Mahdi  as  soon 
as  the  country  had  grown  up  enough  to  make  him 
formidable. 

The  Sudan  must  be  ruled  by  military  law  strong 
enough  to  be  feared,  administered  by  British  officers 
just  enough  to  be  respected.  For  the  second  point,  it 
must  not  be  expected  that  it  will  pay  until  many  years 
have  passed.  The  cost  of  a  military  administration 
would  not  be  very  great,  but  it  must  be  considered 
money  out  of  pocket.  The  experience  of  Dongola* 
whence  the  army  has  been  drawing  large  stores  of 
dhurra,  where  the  number  of  water-wheels  has  multi- 
plied itself  enormously  in  less  than  a  couple  of  years, 
shows  well  enough  that  only  patience  is  wanted.     The 

x 


322  AFTER   THE   CONQUEST. 

Sudan  will  improve :  it  will  never  be  an  Egypt,  but 
it  will  pay  its  way.  But,  before  all  things,  you  must 
give  it  time  to  repopulate  itself. 

Well,  then,  if  Egypt  is  not  to  get  good  places  for 
her  people,  and  is  to  be  out  of  pocket  for  administra- 
tion— how  much  does  Egypt  profit  by  the  fall  of  Ab- 
dullahi  and  the  reconquest  of  the  Sudan  ?  Much. 
Inestimably.  For  as  the  master -gain  of  England  is 
the  vindication  of  her  self-respect,  so  the  master-gain 
of  Egypt  is  the  assurance  of  her  security.  As  long  as 
dervish  raiders  loomed  on  the  horizon  of  her  frontier, 
Egypt  was  only  half  a  State.  She  lived  on  a  perpetual 
war-footing.  Her  finances  are  pinched  enough  at  the 
best;  every  little  economy  had  to  go  to  the  Sirdar. 
Never  was  general  so  jealous — even  miserly — of  public 
money  as  the  Sirdar;  but  even  so  he  was  spending 
Egypt's  all.  That  strain  will  henceforth  be  loosened. 
Egypt  will  have  enough  work  for  five  years  in  the  new 
barrages,  which  are  a  public  work  directly  transfer- 
able in  pounds  and  piastres.  Egypt  will  be  able  to 
give  a  little  attention  to  her  taxes,  which  are  anomal- 
ous ;  to  her  education,  which  is  backward ;  to  her  rail- 
ways, which  are  vile. 

Whether  she  will  be  able  to  reduce  her  army  is 
doubtful.  The  occupation  of  the  banks  of  the  Blue  and 
White  Nile,  to  say  nothing  of  the  peaceful  reabsorp- 
tion  of  Kordofan  and  Darfur,  would  open  up  some  of 
the  finest  raw  fighting  material  in  the  world.  Frankly, 
it  is  very  raw  indeed — the  rawest  savagery  you  can 


THE   GAIN   OF   EGYPT.  323 

well  imagine, — but  British  officers  and  sergeants  have 
made  fairly  drilled  troops,  fairly  good  shots,  superb 
marchers  and  bayonet-fighters  out  of  the  same  mate- 
rial, and  they  could  do  it  again.  To  put  the  matter 
brutally,  having  this  field  for  recruiting,  we  have  too 
many  enemies  in  the  world  to  afford  to  lose  it.  We 
have  made  the  Egyptian  army,  and  we  have  saved 
Egypt  with  it  and  with  our  own  :  we  should  now  make 
of  it  an  African  second  to  our  Indian  army,  and  use  it, 
when  the  time  comes,  to  repay  the  debt  to  ourselves. 

"We  have  saved  Egypt,  and  thereby  we  have  paid 
another  debt.  The  Khedive  is  but  half  a  monarch  at 
the  best :  while  a  hostile  force  sat  on  his  borders  to 
destroy  him,  and  every  couple  of  years  actually  came 
down  to  do  it,  he  was  not  more  than  a  quarter.  There 
was  plenty  of  sneaking  sympathy  with  Mahdism  in 
Egypt  —  even  in  Cairo,  and  not  very  far  from  the 
Khedive's  own  palace.  But  for  British  help  the 
sympathisers  would  long  ago,  but  yet  too  late,  have 
recognised  their  foolishness  in  the  obliteration  of 
Egypt.  Egypt  alone  could  by  no  miracle  have  saved 
herself  from  utter  destruction  by  Mahdist  invasion. 
We  have  saved  her — and  therewith  we  have  paid  off 
the  purblind,  sincere  undertakings  of  Mr  Gladstone. 
We  undertook  to  leave  Egypt ;  we  have  redeemed  the 
promise  in  an  unforeseen  manner,  but  we  have  re- 
deemed it  amply.  If  we  undertook  to  evacuate  the 
old  Egypt,  we  have  fathered  a  new  one,  saved  from 
imminent  extinction   by   our   gold   and    our    sword. 


324  AFTER  THE   CONQUEST. 

Without  us  there  would  have  been  no  Egypt  to-day ; 
what  we  made  we  shall  keep. 

That  is  our  double  gain — the  vindication  of  our 
own  honour  and  the  vindication  of  our  right  to  go 
on  making  Egypt  a  country  fit  to  live  in.  Egypt's 
gain  is  her  existence  to-day.  The  world's  gain  is 
the  downfall  of  the  worst  tyranny  in  the  world,  and 
the  acquisition  of  a  limited  opportunity  for  open  trade. 
The  Sudan's  gain  is  immunity  from  rape  and  torture 
and  every  extreme  of  misery. 

The  poor  Sudan  !  The  wretched,  dry  Sudan  !  Count 
up  all  the  gains  you  will,  yet  what  a  hideous  irony  it 
remains,  this  fight  of  half  a  generation  for  such  an 
emptiness.  People  talk  of  the  Sudan  as  the  East;  it 
is  not  the  East.  The  East  has  age  and  colour;  the 
Sudan  has  no  colour  and  no  age — just  a  monotone  of 
squalid  barbarism.  It  is  not  a  country ;  it  has  nothing 
that  makes  a  country.  Some  brutish  institutions  it 
has,  and  some  bloodthirsty  chivalry.  But  it  is  not  a 
country :  it  has  neither  nationality,  nor  history,  nor 
arts,  nor  even  natural  features.  Just  the  Nile — the 
niggard  Nile  refusing  himself  to  the  desert — and  for 
the  rest  there  is  absolutely  nothing  to  look  at  in  the 
Sudan.  Nothing  grows  green.  Only  yellow  half  a  - 
grass  to  make  you  stumble,  and  sapless  mimosa  to 
tear  your  eyes ;  dom-palms  that  mock  with  wooden 
fruit,  and  Sodom  apples  that  lure  with  flatulent 
poison.  For  beasts  it  has  tarantulas  and  scorpions 
and  serpents,  devouring  white  ants,  and  every  kind 


A  HIDEOUS   IKONY.  325 

of  loathsome  bug  that  flies  or  crawls.  Its  people  are 
naked  and  dirty,  ignorant  and  besotted.  It  is  a 
quarter  of  a  continent  of  sheer  squalor.  Overhead 
the  pitiless  furnace  of  the  sun,  under  foot  the  never- 
easing  treadmill  of  the  sand,  dust  in  the  throat,  tune- 
less singing  in  the  ears,  searing  flame  in  the  eye, — the 
Sudan  is  a  God-accursed  wilderness,  an  empty  limbo 
of  torment  for  ever  and  ever. 

Surely  enough,  "When  Allah  made  the  Sudan," 
say  the  Arabs,  "  he  laughed."  You  can  almost  hear 
the  fiendish  echo  of  it  crackling  over  the  fiery  sand. 
And  yet — and  yet  there  never  was  an  Englishman 
who  had  been  there,  but  was  ready  and  eager  to  go 
again.  "Drink  of  Nile  water,"  say  the  same  Arabs, 
"  and  you  will  return  to  drink  it  again."  Nile  water 
is  either  very  brown  or  very  green,  according  to  the 
season ;  yet  you  do  go  back  and  drink  it  again.  Per- 
haps to  Englishmen — half-savage  still  on  the  pinnacle 
of  their  civilisation — the  very  charm  of  the  land  lies 
in  its  empty  barbarism.  There  is  space  in  the  Sudan. 
There  is  the  fine,  purified  desert  air,  and  the  long 
stretching  gallops  over  its  sand.  There  are  the  things 
at  the  very  back  of  life,  and  no  other  to  posture  in 
front  of  them, — hunger  and  thirst  to  assuage,  distance 
to  win  through,  pain  to  bear,  life  to  defend,  and  death 
to  face.  You  have  gone  back  to  the  spring  water  of 
your  infancy.  You  are  a  savage  again — a  savage  with 
Rosbach  water,  if  there  is  any  left,  and  a  Mauser 
repeating  pistol-carbine,  if  the  sand  has  not  jammed 


326  AFTER  THE   CONQUEST. 

it,  but  still  at  the  last  word  a  savage.  You  are  un- 
prejudiced, simple,  free.  You  are  a  naked  man,  facing 
naked  nature. 

I  do  not  believe  that  any  of  us  who  come  home 
whole  will  think,  from  our  easy-chairs,  unkindly  of 
the  Sudan. 


THE    END. 


Date  Due 

Tf^HSQ* 

* 

w 

f,  Jl  -~ .  ty  r*-~  -  - 

Demco  293-5 

DATE  DUI 

■ 

1 


DT108.5 

S8l 


i^ican  Institut 


e