For Fortune and Glory: A Story of the Soudan War

by Lewis Hough

  CHAPTER TWENTY ONE.

  THE CONVOY.

  Kavanagh and his friends had no long rest at Abu Klea; they were soonoff again across the Desert, making for the Nile. It was not a cheerfulduty they were performing, for they were convoying a body of sick andwounded to Korti, and that was rather too close a connection with thewrong side of the theatre of war. I expect that hospital nurses takequite a different view of a campaign from that entertained by high-spirited subalterns. And this present business was worse than thescenes in a hospital. Do what you will to lighten his sufferings, thetransport of a wounded man must always be a painful operation.

  These were being conveyed on camels. You have seen the seats in whichlittle children often ride on ponies, one on each side, with a board forthe feet to rest on. There were similar affairs on camels' backs, withtwo wounded men sitting back to back. Others, whose hurts were moreserious, or of a nature which prevented their sitting up, were slung ina species of litter.

  But, in despite of depressing influences, the escort were lightening thejourney with chat and jest, when they were called to seriousness by theword--

  "Attention!"

  Silence fell upon the escort, and every man was in his proper place in asecond. Arabs had been seen in the mimosa bushes to the right of theconvoy, and it was impossible to keep quite clear of them, though, ofcourse, the object of such a party is to avoid collision with the enemyas much as possible.

  Half a dozen puffs of smoke spurted out of the cover, and as manybullets came singing overhead. The convoy did not halt, but movedsteadily on, some of the escort dismounting, while the others led theircamels. When the men on foot got a chance they halted and fired, andthen doubled on again, and as they shot a very great deal better thantheir enemies, they made them chary of exposing themselves, and so heldtheir fire in check. As the convoy came abreast of the position,however, the volleys broke out afresh, and the skirmishers spread, somein front, others in rear of it, to draw the fire on themselves, and awayfrom the sick and wounded men. But not with entire success, for itseemed to be the object of the ambushed Arabs to annoy these with theirfire rather than to fight the escort. There was a poor fellow namedBinks, whose right-hand had been shattered and amputated, ridingsideways on a camel, balanced by another invalid whose head had come incontact with a fragment of a shell, and was bandaged up. Binks had beendespondent about himself from the first, not caring very much whether helived or died, now that he was so mutilated, for how was he to get hisliving without a right-hand? He asked. It was in vain that Kavanaghassured him that he could do very well in the Corps of Commissionaires;he had not been very steady in the early part of his soldiering career,and his name had several entries against it in the RegimentalDefaulters' Book, which he was convinced would tell fatally against hischances.

  Suddenly he flung up his left arm, the right being in a sling, and gavea deep gasp, collapsing in his seat, and falling up against hiscompanion. All his doubts and difficulties about the future weresolved, poor fellow! For he was shot through the heart. Presently acamel was wounded, and sank down, groaning pitifully, if pity could havebeen spared for it, but most of that was absorbed by the soldier,suffering grievously from dysentery, whom he carried, and who was nowthrown violently to the ground. A halt was necessary while he wasotherwise accommodated, and the covering party pushed close up to theshrubby ground, taking advantage of the mimosas in their turn, andinflicting some loss on the enemy, who seemed now to have quite alteredtheir former tactics, and to prefer distant to close quarters. When theconvoy moved on again they closed upon it once more, ready to run up toit at the first signs of a rush upon it. The Soudanese, however, madenone; on the contrary, they seemed to find the marksmanship of theescort too accurate for their taste, for they drew off to a distancewhere the bush was thicker, but so far that the fire they maintained wasa mere waste of ammunition.

  "Where's Grady?" cried a man. "Why don't he come and take his camel?"

  "Grady!" called the corporal.

  "Grady!" called the sergeant; but even _his_ superior authority evokedno answer.

  The officer in command again halted the convoy.

  "He may be only wounded; we must not leave him," he said.

  "Who saw him last?"

  "I can find the place exactly, sir," said Kavanagh, "because of a bit ofrock among the scrub which marked the place, and he was making towardsit."

  "Is it far?"

  "No, not five hundred yards; it was just before we ran in."

  "Then double out and look for him. Go with him, another of you, andCorporal Adams."

  But just as this start was being made Grady appeared, shoving before hima man dressed in bernouse and cap, bearing the Mahdi's colours of blueand white, whom he grasped by the scruff of the neck, and, when heshowed unwillingness to advance, expedited his movements with a bumpfrom his knee. What had happened was this. While skirmishing he hadcaught sight of a pair of human heels protruding from a bush which grewon the side of a rock, and he came to the conclusion that there probablywere legs attached to those heels, and a body in continuation. So hemade a detour, and crept up very softly from behind till he was withinreach of those heels, which he promptly seized--or rather the anklesabove them--and drew out a wriggling Arab with a rifle in his hand,which he could not get a chance of using against the person who wasdrawing him.

  Flattering himself that he was entirely concealed, he thought he had gota beautiful place for a pot-shot when the skirmishers had passed, andthe convoy came abreast of him. And so indeed he had, and with thebarrel of his Remington in the natural rest formed by a fork in theboughs of a tree, he had a first-rate chance of bagging something. Buthe reckoned without his extremities; had he been a foot shorter, or thescrub a foot deeper, he would have remained unnoticed.

  "Come out, you spalpeen, and drop that gun, will ye?" cried Grady, andboth directions were obeyed, involuntarily enough; for, as he spoke, thebutt of the rifle was brought with such a jerk against the stem of amimosa, that the owner lost his grip of it, and the same jerk landed himclear of the bush.

  "Be quiet, my jewel, till I pick up your shooting-iron," said Grady, whowanted to take back the rifle as a prize and a trophy, but feared thathis nimble captive would escape him while he reached for it.

  So he knelt on the Arab's back, he lying on his face, and taking a pieceof twine out of his pocket, he tied his elbows together. Then hereached out and got the rifle, and slung it over his shoulder.

  "And will ye plaze to get up?" he said. "You must excuse me if I am athrifle rough, but it's owing to the resistance ye make;" and as Grady,a very powerful man, was the stronger, his captive found himself on hisfeet and emerging into the open, without any volition of his own.

  "Sure, and it's in mighty good luck ye should estame yourself, to fallinto the hands of a tender-hearted boy like meself, who lets the dirtylife stop in your haythen carcase. By all the laws of your warfare, Iam bound to put my bayonet into your stomach instead of making ye aprisoner, just as if ye were a respectable sodger, who gave and tookquarter like a Christian. Get along wid ye! Ye are as bad to drive asa pig, and not a hundredth part the value of him, nor such good companyeither. Get on, I say, or they'll be thinking you've took me, and notthat I've took you. Ye've got to go before the captain, and tell himwhat he chooses to ask you, so where's the use of struggling, making usboth so uncomfortable this warm day? It's proud ye should be to havespache with a real gentleman and a British officer, ye poor haythenvagabond!"

  It may be observed that the last sentence was uttered in the possible,though not the certain and obvious hearing of the officer alluded to.

  "Why, Grady, what have you been up to?" was the question which greetedhim.

  "Sure and I've made an important capture; look at the clothes of him!How do you know that it is not the Mahdi himself?"

  Here the officer commanding the detachment rode up.

  "Well done, Grady," he said; "we were wanting a prisoner, and may g
etsome valuable information out of this one. A very neat thing indeed; Ishall remember it."

  Grady saluted, and went to his camel.

  The prisoner had his arms freed, and was given another camel, as heseemed quiet and philosophical, and had a couple of friendly natives forcompanions to pump him. And the convoy went on its slow and painfuljourney.

  Assured by the other Arabs that no harm would be done him, the capturedman became cheerful and communicative. Of course there are differentsorts of Arabs, as there are of English or Frenchmen, and this one was aphilosopher who saw no particular merit in struggling against theinevitable, and was inclined to make himself as comfortable ascircumstances permitted. Indeed, he and his captor would have foundmuch in common if they had passed a social evening together, and beenable to hold converse; though for that it would have been necessaryeither for Grady to learn Arabic, or for the native to learn English,and neither might have thought it worth the trouble.

  He belonged to a tribe which had not been very keen about espousing theMahdi's cause. They were old-fashioned in their ideas, and did not likenewfangled notions. Besides, this might be an impostor. Mahomet wasgood enough for them, and they wanted no other prophet. Then they hadprofitable business relations with the Egyptians, and had no desire tobreak off communication with them. And they also saw that something wasto be made out of the English, especially if they established themselvesat Khartoum and opened up a trade with the black tribes towards theEquator. So they were inclined to join us, and throw in their lot withours. But one day a proclamation was issued which filled them withdismay. The English, to reconcile the inhabitants of the Soudan totheir presence, announced that they only desired to rescue GeneralGordon and his garrison at Khartoum, and then they would retire from theSoudan.

  But that meant that this particular tribe, and any others who supportedthe English, would presently be left alone to stand the brunt of theMahdi's power; and the Mahdi's motto was not "Rescue and retire," but"Annihilate and stop!" If they had been strong enough to stand alone itwould have been different, but without the English alliance they werepowerless to resist the False Prophet.

  Therefore the only course for them seemed to be to join him, and soescape the vengeance which would otherwise overtake them. And sincethey had hesitated and therefore incurred suspicion, it was advisable,they thought, to show the greater zeal, and they in many instancesadopted the Mahdi's uniform, as the present prisoner had done. But theydid not thoroughly believe in him; they were not at any rate fanaticalin his cause, and were not likely to impale themselves on bayonets toencourage the others, as his more earnest adherents thought it aprivilege to do. At the same time they were Mohammedans, and to kill anunbeliever must be always a meritorious action in their eyes. So it wasa pleasure to them to pepper the Christians a bit, when occasionoffered, not to mention that any sort of a fight was attractive to sucha warlike race. But still there was no venom in their hostility; wewere enemies, of course, but enemies who might any day become friends;and Grady's prisoner did not think it necessarily behoved him to sulk,refuse food, commit suicide, or, which was much the same thing, attemptto escape. So he was soon chatting freely with the natives, of whomthere were a good many, for the camels conveying the invalids were ledand tended by them. It stands to reason that all he said about his owntribe and others, and the number of the Mahdi's followers, and thedistribution of his forces, could not be accepted as implicitly correct.For, in the first place, he most likely had no accurate knowledge onmany of these and similar points; and in the next place, if he had, hemight more than possibly wish to mislead, rather than afford usefulinformation.

  But after a certain amount of practice an officer with a head on hisshoulders learns how to sift the reports gathered from spies, deserters,prisoners, and peasants, and to get a few grains of valuable fact out ofbushels of chaff. So the chief interpreter went to work, and translatedmuch useless and some practical talk.

  The most interesting account he had to give could not be called useful,however, because it referred to past events, and these were alreadyfully reported; but the present party had not heard them. It wasconcerning the death of Colonel Stewart, the only English companionGordon had for so long, and of which the man professed to have been awitness in the October of 1884. The following was the Arab's account,transcribed from the note-book of Sergeant Barton, who could take thingsdown in shorthand, when men spoke slowly and deliberately, or with thedelay, as in the present instance, of an interpreter:--

  "When Gordon Pasha knew that there was no hope, and that Khartoum mustfall, because, though he could hold his own against the enemy without,treason in the heart of the place was a thing against which he waspowerless, and he knew, though no one else may have done so, that he wasbetrayed, he sent off Colonel Stewart in a steamer for a pretendedpurpose which imposed upon him, his real object being to save his friendby getting him out of the way when the attack, which he expected fromday to day, came.

  "Nothing would have made Colonel Stewart leave Khartoum if he hadsuspected this, but he did not, and he set out in the firm convictionthat his going would really be useful. So say those that should know.What is certain is that he went, and that his steamer struck on a rockin the Wad Gamr country, for I myself have seen it. I was with theSheikh Omar at Berti at the time. Sheikh Omar had a nephew Sulieman WadGamr, a very bitter enemy of the Turk, and of any one who supported theTurk, but a man with a double face, who promised most and smiled thesweetest, when he had the dagger concealed in his sleeve.

  "Colonel Stewart did not like the look of him when he came to offer hisservices, but Hassan Bey, who was with the Englishman, thought thatSulieman was to be trusted, and so a conference was held, and Suliemanundertook to find camels to take all the shipwrecked travellers on toMerawi if he could. Afterwards he came and said that he knew of camels,but the people who owned them were afraid that they would be taken fromthem by force, and if those who came to conclude the bargain had arms intheir hands, there was no chance of any camels being brought forward,but if those who were to bargain for them were unarmed, it was verycertain that as many as were necessary might be got. And when, seeingno other way than to trust Sulieman, Colonel Stewart agreed to this, hewas directed to go at a certain hour to the house of one Fakreitman, whowas blind, but to be sure to take no weapons, neither he nor any of theparty. They went to Fakreitman, the blind man's house, accordingly, andSulieman met them there with the men that he had instructed to carry outhis secret, and others who were not entrusted. I was in the courtyardwith others serving under the Sheikh Omar, and we wondered where thecamels were, for we saw none in the neighbourhood, and yet thebargaining was going on. Then suddenly, at a signal from Sulieman WadGamr, the appointed men attacked Colonel Stewart and his companions, andthere was such a scuffle as is possible when there are sharp swords anddaggers on one side and no weapons at all on the other.

  "Colonel Stewart and others were soon put to death. Hassan Bey seizedthe owner of the house, the blind man, Fakreitman, and held him beforehim as a shield, and so got clear of the house with only a slight wound.We outside might have dispatched him, but we had no orders, and did notinterfere. And so he got clear, and letting the blind man go, escaped."

  Such was the prisoner's account, and there was no reason to doubt thegeneral tenor of it, though of course the details were not to beimplicitly relied upon.

  The man was asked why, since he seemed to bear no particular grudgeagainst the English, he took such pains to establish himself in a goodposition for a sure shot at the convoy. It was not a wise question.The Arab laughed, and asked if the English had any particular enmity tothe Soudanese.

  "No," was the reply. "On the contrary, we wish to be friends withthem."

  "And yet," said the prisoner, "you have killed twenty thousand of us inthe last few moons. When we fight we mean to kill; and when we hunt wemean to kill. Are you not the same?"

  There was no denying this; war is of necessity a game for two to playa
t, or else it would be sheer murder.

  He was questioned about Gordon's death, but, though he was willingenough to talk on the subject, his information was at third or fourthhand, and did not profess to be personal, like the other account.

  "Ah! That was a man, Gordon Pasha!" he said. "If He had declaredhimself a prophet, or the great sheikh of the Soudan, the Mahdi wouldhave lost all his followers but a few slave hunters, and all would havegathered under Gordon's standard. He was just, and when he said a thingevery one knew that it was true. The Turks were never just; they tookbribes, and they sought by word and deed to deceive. But Gordon Pashawas the wisest and the most just ruler that ever came into the country,and he feared nothing except to offend Allah. The highest and thelowest were the same to him, and it was a pity to kill him. There willnever be such another."

  "Why, then, was he murdered?"

  "The Mahdi knew that he was a rival, and must overthrow him if he could,or else lose his power himself. And he was betrayed by those who hadsinned against him, and been forgiven, but did not believe in theforgiveness. And besides that, the Mahdi offered them money from thefirst, and when you got so near Khartoum he increased this to a largesum. But all this would not have availed if men had known that Gordonwas going to remain as their sheikh; but where was the use of joining asheikh who was leaving to-morrow against another who was sure to stop?"

  He was a shrewd fellow, this prisoner of Grady's, and knew how to trimhis sails to the prevailing wind. The marches of the convoy were slow,as the patients could not bear the jolt of a camel's trot; and the oldmedical direction, "When taken to be well shaken," would have been deathto most of them, so the halts were fixed at various intermediate wells,where zerebas had been formed and held till the last load had passed,when the detachment performing that duty likewise retired. The body ofBinks was carried on to the bivouac for that night, and decently buriedthere.

  On the following morning the captured Arab was nowhere to be seen, andit was at first feared that he had escaped in the night. But he wassoon discovered, the cause of his disappearance being that he haddiscarded his Mahdi uniform, which was now a little bundle about thesize of a cocoa-nut, hanging from a projection of a camel's harness.Such clothing as he wore fitted well, nature herself having measured himfor it; and since he was still a young man, there were no wrinkles init. You know how difficult it is to recognise a fellow if you come uponhim down a back-water bathing, and will understand why the prisoner wasmissed at first. He came up presently and offered to take service, andtend a camel. It appeared to him that he had to go along with the partyanyhow, and might as well improve the shining hour and earn a littlemoney.

  Earlier in the march one of the natives in charge of camels had beenkilled by one of the scattered volleys which every now and then harassedthem on their journey, and two others had taken the opportunity ofdeserting, so that the new volunteer's services were gladly accepted.And there was the little bundle, ready to be shaken out and put on againshould the fortune of war land him to-morrow amongst the adherents ofthe Mahdi. Quite a man of the world, this Arab.

  In the course of his long talk with the interpreter the day before,Kavanagh, who was riding at his side, rifle in hand, having been maderesponsible for his safe custody, heard a name repeated several timeswhich struck him as familiar, and which he yet could not associate withanything in particular. _Burrachee_! Whereon earth had he ever heardthe word Burrachee? He had dreamt it, or fancied it, or was thinking ofthat word which expresses the taste given to wine by the skin in whichit is stored in some places. And he tried to drive it from his head.But that night he was for guard, and while doing his tour of sentry itflashed upon him in a second.

  Burrachee, the Sheikh Burrachee; that was the name of the Mohammedanuncle of Harry Forsyth, who lived amongst the Arabs of the Soudan, andto whom Harry meant to have recourse in finding the portentous will, theabsence of which was the cause that he, Reginald Kavanagh, was trampingup and down a narrow path under the stars, with a chance of being shotor sprung upon every minute, instead of being snugly tucked up betweenthe sheets, snoring to the nightingales.

  His mind was easier for having remembered the association with the name,but his curiosity was excited to know whether there was any connectionbetween that and the same word used by the Arab, and he took an earlyopportunity on the march next day to ask Sergeant Barton to get him theloan of the interpreter for a bit. For the interpreter was a person ofconsequence, in his own estimation at least, and not to be lightlyappropriated by privates.

  But tact can do a great deal, and by approaching the question in ajudicious manner, his services were secured, and he blandly expressedhis readiness to put any questions to the ex-prisoner which Kavanaghmight desire, and to translate the answers.

  This was the result in one language. To give the Arabic and then theEnglish would involve mere repetition, so I am sure that you will excusethat. Besides I could not do it.

  _Question_. "Do you know the Sheikh Burrachee?"

  _Answer_. "Yes, everybody knows the Sheikh Burrachee."

  _Question_. "Is he not a foreigner to the Soudan?"

  _Answer_. "It is said so. He is rich, wise, learned, and he is a TrueBeliever. But his features are not those of the Turk or of the Arab."

  _Question_. "Do you know whether a man of his race, much younger, hasjoined him lately?"

  _Answer_. "Truly, yes, I have heard something of such an event. Somesay his son, others a man made by magic by the sheikh, who is a greatmagician, and can make ghosts come and go as he commands."

  _Question_. "Did you ever hear of any--(Kavanagh was regularly botheredto know how to ask after a legal document like a will, and theinterpreter could not help him; at last he hit on the word Firman) ofany Firman the young man was seeking for?"

  _Answer_. "No, I have never seen either of them; I speak from hearsay,and know nothing more than I have told you."

  There was nothing more to be got out of Grady's captive.

  But still, to know that Forsyth had reached his uncle was something.And the probability was that he was living, for if he had been dead thenews would very likely have reached this gossiping Arab.

  "I told you about the missing will in which I have an interest,"Kavanagh said to Sergeant Barton, when all that could had been got outof the Arab.

  "Yes; and Daireh the Egyptian led your friend, who undertook to traceit, a pretty dance out here, and all over the Soudan."

  "Yes; well I expect that he has traced him, for it seems he is livingwith this Sheikh Burrachee, as he calls himself, who is as mad as ahatter, and he would not do that without a very strong reason."

  "Then the man who may be the Irish sheikh's son, or may be merely amagical illusion, and vanish or turn into a cat some fine morning, isyour friend, I suppose?" said Barton.

  "Sure to be," replied Kavanagh; "though whether he has found Daireh yetis another question, and if, having found him, he has also got the willis still more problematical."

  "It would be hard lines if, after all that risk and trouble and runninghis man to earth, he should find the will destroyed or lost after all,"said Barton. "I cannot believe in such ill-luck!"

  "No more should I three months ago," said Kavanagh; "but after gettingto Khartoum just three days too late I am prepared for anything. Whatis the journey undertaken by Forsyth compared to the expedition fittedout, the persevering struggle against the forces of Nature, and theopposition of hosts of desperate foes for the purpose of rescuingGordon? And that all that should fail seemed too bad to be possible.Yet so it was. I shall always be prepared for the worst for the rest ofmy life."