by G. A. Henty
"What I did, Emir, I believe any white officer who was a good swimmer would have done. No Englishman would see a woman drowning without making an effort to save her, if he had it in his power. As to the fact that she was not of the same race or religion, he would never give it a thought. It would be quite enough for him that she was a woman."
" And you," Mahmud said, turning to Zaki; " you are a Jaalin, are you not ?"
"I am."
"Jaalin or Baggara, you are my friend," Mahmud said, placing his hand on Zaki's shoulders. " And so you, too, leapt overboard to save a woman?"
"No, Emir," he replied, " I jumped over because my master jumped over. I had not thought about the woman. I jumped over to aid him, and it was to give him my help that I took my share in supporting the woman. The Bimbashi is a good master, and I would die for him."
Mahmud smiled at this frank answer. " Nevertheless, whatever may have been your motive, you were enabled to save the life of my wife, and henceforth you are my friend." Then he turned to the horsemen who were still grouped on the bank above. " You have heard what has been said? The white man is under the protection of my harem ; the Jaalin is henceforth my friend."
Mahmud was a fine specimen of the tribesmen of the Soudan—tall, well-built, and with pure Arab features. He was the Khalifa's favourite son, and was generous, with kindly impulses, but impatient of control. Of late he had given way to outbursts of passion, feeling acutely the position in which he was placed. He had advanced from Omdurman confident that he should be able to drive the infidels before him and carry his arms far into Egypt. His aspirations had been thwarted by the Khalifa. His requests for stores and camels that would have enabled him to advance had been refused, and he had been ordered to fall back. His troops had been rendered almost mutinous from the want of supplies. He had seen the invaders growing stronger and stronger, and accomplishing what had seemed an impossibility —the bringing up of stores sufficient for their sustenance—by pushing the railroad forward towards Berber. Now that their forces had been very greatly increased, and the issue of the struggle had become doubtful, he had received the order for which he had been craving for months, and had been directed to march down and attack the Egyptian army, drive them across the Nile, and destroy the railway.
By means of spies he had heard that ere long a large force of British soldiers would come up to reinforce the Egyptians. so that what might have been easy work two months before, had now become a difficult and dangerous enterprise. The manner in which the Dervishes had been defeated in their attacks upon Wolseley's desert column, and in the engagements that had since taken place, showed how formidable was the fighting power, not only of the British troops, but of the native army they had organized, and his confidence in the power of the tribesmen to sweep all before them had been shaken.
The Dervishes scowled when they heard that they were not to have the satisfaction of massacring this Englishman whose countrymen were still keeping up a terrible fire on their redoubt. It was not one of their wives who had been rescued, and Gregory's act of jumping overboard seemed to them to savour of madness, and if that plea had been advanced they would have recognized it as rendering the person of the man who had performed it inviolable. However, as he was under the protection of their leader's harem there was nothing more to be said, and at an order from Mahmud all but four of them rode off, while the others fell in behind him. Mahmud did not mount again, but walked with his wife to a deserted mud-hut two hundred yards away. There he left her, telling Gregory and Zaki to sit down outside, and placing the four men on guard.
"I must rejoin my men," he said as he mounted. "When your vessels have gone I will return."
Half an hour later the fire ceased. Soon afterwards Mahmud rode up with a score of men, followed by some dozen women, and a slave leading a donkey. On this Fatma took her seat, and the women surrounded her. Gregory and Zaki walked close behind them; Mahmud, with his horsemen, rode in front. After proceeding for a mile they came upon a group of tents. Mahmud's banner was flying on a pole in front of the largest of these. Behind, and touching it, was another almost as large. This was the abode of the ladies of Mahmud's harem; the other tents were occupied by his principal Emirs. A hundred yards away was the encampment of the army, which was sheltered in hastily-constructed huts, or arbours made of bushes. By Mahmud's order a small tent was erected with blankets close to the after-entrance into the harem tent, for Gregory's use, so that, should he be attacked by fanatics, he could at once take refuge in the harem, whose sanctity not even the most daring would dare to violate.
A handsome robe was brought for Zaki, and as Mahmud presented it to him he said, " You are my friend, but you
must now go back to your vessels or to Berber. My orders were to kill all the Jaalin, and we have spared none who fell into our hands at Metemmeh or since. I cannot keep you here. As long as you stay by my side you will be safe, but you could not leave me for a moment. It is as much as I can do to save the life of this infidel officer, and it is to him that I owe most, for it was he who first leapt into the river. The white men's boats have already fastened up behind the island where they before stationed themselves. Make your way down there at daybreak and wave a white cloth. Doubtless they will send a boat ashore, thinking that you bear a message from me; or if you see they do not do this, you can swim out to them."
" I would rather stay with my master. Cannot you let him go too?"
"That is impossible," Mahmud said shortly. "It is known throughout the camp that I have a white man here. The news will travel fast to the Khalifa. My actions have already been misrepresented to him, and were I to let this officer go, my father might recall me to Omdurman and send another to command here. He must stay, but you may go without harm. You can scarcely have been noticed yet, and I can well declare, should the Khalifa hear of you, that you have escaped."
"May I speak with my master?" Zaki said. "If he says stay, I shall stay, though it might cost me my life; if he says go, I must go."
" You may speak to him," Mahmud said.
Zaki went round to Gregory's tent and told him what Mahmud had said.
" Go, certainly, Zaki. You can do me no good by remaining here, and might even do me harm, for if you were killed I also might be murdered. Moreover, I wish to send the news of my capture and how it occurred. I do not think any save yourself noticed that I was missing, and when the fight was over, and they found that I was absent, they might suppose that I had been shot and had fallen overboard, I will write a note for you to carry. It is in all respects better that you should go. Were we to be seen talking together it might be supposed that we were planning some way of escape, and I should be more closely watched. As it is, I see that Mahmud will have difficulty in protecting me. Were you to ride about Avith him, as he says, your presence would remind his followers that he has a white man a captive here; whereas if I remain almost in concealment near the harem, the fact that there is a white man here will pass out of the minds of those who know it, and will not become the common talk of the camp. Mahmud is running some risk in having spared my life, and I do not wish to make it harder for him. Go therefore and tell him that you will leave to-night. I cannot write now; my pocket-book is soaked through. But I will tear out some leaves and dry them in the sun, and write what I have to say before you start. I shall speak highly of you in my letter and recommend you to Colonel Wingate, who will, I have no doubt, give you employment. I hope I shall see you again before long. I am very sorry that we must part, but it is best for us both."
Very reluctantly Zaki returned to Mahmud. " My master says I must go, Emir, and I must obey his orders, though I would rather stay with him. To-night I will leave."
" It is well. I would that I could let him go also, but my oath prevents me from giving him his freedom. I trust, however, that when the Khalifa hears of his noble action, and how he has made me his debtor, he will say that Allah himself would not blame me for that. Gratitude is even more binding than an oath; still, until I hear f
rom him I can do nothing. We have not seen matters in the same light for some time. When I wanted to strike he was unwilling that I should do so. Now, when it seems to me that the time for that has passed, and that I had best retire on Omdurman, he says go forward and fight. It is not for me to question his commands or his wisdom. But I may not give him cause for anger. My advice to you is, when you get to Berber do not stay there. We shall assuredly be there before long, and as none would know that you were under my protection, you would be slain. Go straight to Abu Hamed, and when you hear that we have defeated the infidels and have entered Berber, leave by this road they have made, upon which, as they tell me, carriages run without horses, and stay not until you reach Cairo. There you can live quietly until you hear that the Khalifa's army is approaching. After that fly. I cannot say whither, but seek a shelter until the black flag waves over the whole of the land. When there is no more fighting, then come to me and I will give you a post of honour."
"I will do so, Emir. AVhen the time comes I will remind you of your promise."
" I have neither silver nor gold with which I can reward you now, but we shall gather these things in Egypt, and I will make you wealthy."
Zaki thought that it would be unwise to wander from Mahmud's encampment, and he accordingly sat down by his tent. Presently one of the slaves came out with a large dish of food that Mahmud had sent him. As evening approached he went round to Gregory's little tent with the intention of trying to persuade him to attempt to escape with him, but two of the tribesmen with rifles in their hands were stationed there. They offered no opposition to his entry, but their presence showed that Mahmud was determined that his master should appear to be a close prisoner, as indeed his escape might well jeopardize the Emir's position even among his followers.
Gregory had a letter ready for him to carry to Captain Keppel. It ran as follows:—
Dear Captain Keppel,
I am a prisoner in Mahmud's hands. This is the result of my own impetuosity —7" will not say folly, for I cannot regret that I yielded to the sudden impulse that seized me. A boat containing some women was sunk by a shell when but a few yards astern of the gun-boat. Most of its occupants were killed, but I saw a tvoman struggling in the water, and without thinking of the consequences jumped overboard to save her, my servant following me. When we reached her we found that the current was too strong to regain the gun-boat, and so landed about half a mile down, hoping to find shelter in the bushes until the boat came down the stream. What I did, however, had been observed by the Dervishes, and as soon as I landed a party rode up, headed by Mahmud himself who was aware that his favourite wife was in the boat that had sunk. Most fortunately it turned out that she was the woman I had saved. Upon her appeal Mahmud spared our lives. He has released my man, who will carry this to you; but having sworn that he would spare no white man, he retains me in his hands as a prisoner until he can lay the facts before the Khalifa and obtain his permission to let me go. I trust that all will be well, and that some day I may rejoin the army. However, there is no saying how matters may turn out. I am happy in knowing that there is no one who, if the worse comes to the worst, will grieve over my loss. I recommend my faithful servant to you. I should wish the balance of pay coming to me to be handed to him, as well as my camel and horse, and all other belongings. By the sale of these he would be able at the end of the war to hey a piece of land and settle down among his own people. Will you kindly report my capture to Colonel Wingate or General Hunter? Thanking you for your kindness to me,
I remain,
Yours faithfully,
GREGORY HILLIARD.
P.S. — In my cabin is a tin box containing documents of importance to me. I shall be greatly obliged if you will take charge of these until — as I hope will be the case —I rejoin you.
He handed the paper to Zaki, who took his hand and raised it to his forehead with tears in his eyes. " I go because you order me, master," he said in a broken voice, " but I would a thousand times rather remain and share your fate, whatever it might be." Then he turned and abruptly left the tent.
Twice that day Gregory had received food from a female slave of the harem. Although he knew that he should miss Zaki greatly, he was very glad that he had been sent away, for he felt that, although for the time he had been reprieved, his position was very precarious, and that his servant's would have been still more so. A white prisoner was a personage of some consequence, but the death of a Jaalin was a matter that would disturb no one; thousands of them had been massacred, and one more or less could not matter at all. But however much the Dervishes might hate a white infidel, it would be a serious matter for even the most powerful Emir to harm a prisoner under the protection of the harem of the Khalifa's son.
Mahmud had been very popular among them, but his position had been gravely shaken by the events of the last six months. Having unlimited confidence in themselves, the Baggara had seen with increasing fury the unopposed advance of the Egyptians. They could not understand why they should not have been allowed, after the capture of Metemmeh, to march across the desert to Merawi and annihilate the infidels assembled there. It was true that these had repulsed the force defending Dongola, but this was a comparatively small body, and it was the gun-boats and not the Egyptian troops who had forced them to evacuate the town. The fall of Abu Hamed had added to their discontent, and they were eager to march with all speed to Berber to join the five thousand men comprising its garrison, and to drive the invaders back across the Nile. But they had been kept inactive by the orders of the Khalifa and by the want of stores. They had for months been suffering great privations, and while remaining in enforced inactivity they had known that their enemy's strength was daily increasing, and that what could have been accomplished with the greatest of ease in August had now become a very serious business. Mahmud himself had chafed at the situation in which he found himself placed by his father's refusal to support him or to allow him to take any action. This had soured his temper, and he had taken to drinking heavily— he had become more harsh with his men, more severe in the punishment inflicted for any trifling disobedience of orders. Although no thought that the rule of the Khalifa could be seriously threatened entered their minds, fanatical as they were, they could not but feel some uneasiness at the prospect.
A great army was gathering at Berber; Kassala was in the hands of the British, and the forces that had been beleaguering it had been defeated with heavy loss; Abyssinia had leagued itself against them; the insurrection of the Jaalin had been crushed, but there were signs of unrest in Kordofan and other parts. Of course all this would be put right. An army of sixty thousand men was at Omdurman, and this with Mah-mud's command would suffice to sweep away all their enemies. Their enthusiasm would never have wavered had they been called upon for action; but these months of weary waiting and of semi-starvation without the acquisition of any booty or plunder—for little indeed had been obtained at the capture of Metemmeh—sapped their energy, and the force that crossed the Nile for an advance upon Berber was far less formidable than it would have been had it been led forward against Merawi and Dongola directly after the capture of Metemmeh, —still, it needed only the prospect of a battle to restore its spirits.
A fortnight after Gregory's capture the Dervish army was set in motion. A few thousand men had already been sent forward along the banks of the river to check any advance that might be made from Fort Atbara. Had it not been for this Gregory might have attempted to escaoe. It would not have been very difficult for him to creep out at the back of his little tent unperceived by his guards, but the dangers to be encountered in making his way to the British fort would have been immense. It would have been necessary for him to keep by the river, for from this source alone could Avater be obtained.
The country had been stripped of its crops of all kinds by the Dervishes, the villages had been razed to the ground, and the last head of maize and other grain gleaned by the starving people who had taken refuge in the bush and jungle.
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p; Therefore, although by keeping near the river he could quench his thirst at will, he would assuredly have to face starvation. Moreover, he would have no chance of searching for any ears of corn which might have escaped the eyes of the searchers, for he must travel only by night and lie up by day, to avoid capture by one or other of the bands that had gone on, in which case he would at once be killed, being beyond the influence of Mahmud and the protection of the harem.
On the other hand, he had nothing to complain of except the monotony and uncertainty of his position. Fatma kept him well supplied with food, and from the gossip of the slaves who brought this to him he learnt how matters were progressing. He was longing for the Dervish army to make a move, for he felt that when they neared the British position the greater would be the chances of escape, and none among the followers of Mahmud rejoiced more than he did when he knew that the long-expected advance was about to take place.
Once in motion, the spirits of the Dervishes revived. At last they were going to meet these insolent invaders, and none doubted that they would easily defeat them. The greater portion of the harem and attendants were left behind at Shendy, for but few camels were available. Fatma and another of Mahmud's wives rode on one; a tent was carried by another. Half a dozen slaves followed, and Gregory walked with these. He could not help admiring the attitude of the tribesmen—tall, powerful men, inured to hardship, and walking or riding with an air of fierce independence which showed their pride in themselves and their confidence in their prowess.