by G. A. Henty
At half-past four the Sirdar with his staff entered the town accompanied by Maxwell's Egyptian brigade. Only a few shots were fired; the Dervish courage was broken. It was to the followers of the Prophet, and not to the infidels, that the plains of Kerreri had proved fatal. It was their bodies and not those of the white soldiers that were strewn there so thickly. The promise of the Khalifa had been falsified, the tomb of the Mahdi was crumbling into ruins, the bravest of their troops had fallen—what more was there to be done ? As Slatin Pasha rode in at the head of the troops he was instantly recognized by the people, among whom for years he had been a prisoner; and on his assurances that mercy would be shown to all if there was no resistance, numbers of the Dervishes came out from their houses and huts and laid down their arms. The women flocked out into the streets, uttering their long and quavering cries of welcome. To them the entry of the British was a relief from a living death, as almost all were captives taken in war or in the Dervish raids upon quiet villages. They could scarce even yet believe that they were free—that their tyrants were slain or fugitives. Intense was the surprise and relief of the population when they were told that there would be no looting—no harm done to any by the conquerors; that all would be free, if they chose, to depart to their homes, and to take their few belongings with them.
The scene in the town was awful,—the stench overpowering! The Dervishes were absolutely ignorant of all sanitary methods,—pools of the foulest slush abounded, and thousands of dead animals in all stages of decomposition lay about the streets. Among them were numerous dead bodies, principally of girls and women who had been killed by their brutal husbands or masters to prevent them from falling into the hands of the British. There were also many dead Dervishes, and others desperately wounded. Strangely enough, the latter did not seem to regard their victorious enemy with the hate that had been exhibited by many of the wounded in the field, and some of them half-raised themselves and saluted the Sirdar and his staff as they passed along.
Presently there was a commotion in the crowd. The wall of the great granary had been breached by some of the lyddite shells, and the grain had poured out into the street. The natives near ran up to gather it, and finding that they were not molested by the British, the news spread rapidly; the crowds in the streets melted away, and the inhabitants, foi the most part half-starved, made a mad rush to the spot, where in a short time many thousands of men, women, and children were hard at work gathering and carrying off the grain.
In the meantime the Sirdar, with a party of Maxwell's brigade, passed along by the side of the great wall enclosing the buildings and square mile of ground in which were the Khalifa's house, the tomb of the Mahdi, the arsenal, storehouses, and the homes of the principal emirs. As soon as they had turned the corner of the wall, in view of the tomb and the Khalifa's house, a brisk fire was opened by the garrison. Fortunately the wall was not loopholed, and they had to get on the top of it or on to the flat roofs of the houses to fire. Maxwell's men soon silenced them, and on the troops passing in through the breaches and along the wall, most of the Dervishes at once surrendered. For a time further advance was barred by an inner wall that still intervened between them and the Khalifa's house.
After the gun-boats' fire had cleared away a number of the Dervishes clustered outside the south wall, the Sirdar and his staff entered by a gateway and moved towards the Khalifa's house. This was searched by Slatin Pasha and several officers and soldiers, but to the general disappointment it was found that the Khalifa had escaped but a short time before, carrying with him his treasure, his wives having been sent off as soon as he returned from the field of battle. The Mahdi's tomb was a ruin; a large portion of the dome had been knocked away, and the falling fragments had smashed the iron railings that surrounded the tomb itself. There was nothing more to be done. The pursuit of the Khalifa, mounted as he would be on fresh horses, was out of the question. It was already almost dark, and men and horses had been at work since before daybreak. The town was in a very disturbed state—large numbers of the Dervishes were still possessed of their arms, and the greater portion of the troops were withdrawn from the pestilential town. Next morning a larger force was marched in, and the work of disarmament completed.
The cavalry went out and scouted the country and brought in large numbers of prisoners. The men belonging to the tribes that had renounced Mahdism—Jaalin and others—were at once allowed to leave for their homes, and numbers of others whose appearance was peaceful, and who had at once given up their arms, were also released; but there were still no fewer than eleven thousand prisoners, among them pome of the Khalifa's emirs. Many of the townspeople had started the previous evening for the field of battle to bury the bodies of their friends who had fallen, and to bring in the wounded. Of the latter, after our own men had been attended to, fully nine thousand received aid and attention from the British doctors.
On the morning after the occupation, the work of purification began. Great numbers of the unwounded prisoners and of the townspeople were set to work to clean the streets, and in a couple of days the wider thoroughfares and avenues had been thoroughly cleansed. Having but little to do, Gregory went into the Khalifa's arsenal. This building was full of war material of all kinds, including a perfectly-appointed battery of Krupp guns, numbers of old cannon, modern machine-guns, rifles and pistols mixed up with musical instruments, suits of chain armour, steel helmets, hundreds of battle flags, and thousands of native spears, swords, and shields. Besides these the collection comprised ivory, percussion-caps, lead, copper, and bronze, looms, pianos, sewing-machines, boilers, steam-engines, agricultural implements, ostrich feathers, wooden and iron bedsteads, paints, india-rubber, leather water-bottles, clothes, three state-coaches, and an American buggy. There were also a modern smithy, where gunpowder, shell, bullets, and cartridge-cases were made and stored, and a well-appointed engineers' shop and foundry, with several steam-engines, turning-lathes, and other tools. The machinery had been brought from Gordon's arsenal at Khartoum, where the foreman had been employed, and the workmen were for the most part Greeks.
The battle was fought on Friday, the 2nd of September. On Sunday a flotilla of boats containing detachments from all the British and Egyptian regiments, and every officer who could be spared from duty, proceeded up the river to Khartoum. The ruined and deserted city looked delightful after the sand, dirt, and wretchedness of Omdurman. The gardens of the governor's house and other principal buildings had run wild, and the green foliage was restful indeed to the eye after the waste of sand, rock, and scrub that had been traversed by the army on its way from Wady Haifa. The vessels drew up opposite a grove of tall palms. Beyond them appeared what had been the government house. The upper story was gone, the windows were filled up with bricks, and a large acacia stood in front of the building.
The troops formed up before the palace in three sides of a square—the Egyptians were to the left looking from the river, and the British to the right,—the Sirdar and the generals of the divisions and brigades facing the centre. Two flagstaff's had been raised on the upper story. The Sirdar gave the signal, and the British and Egyptian flags were run up. As they flew out, one of the gun-boats fired a salute, the Guard?' band struck up "God Save the Queen!" and the band of the 11th Soudanese then played the Khedive's hymn, while the Generals and all present stood in salute with their hands to the peak of their helmets. The Sirdar's call for three cheers for the Queen was enthusiastically responded to, every helmet being raised. Similar cheers were then given for the Khedive, the bands again struck up, and twenty-one guns were fired.
As the last gun echoed out, the Guards played the Dead March in " Saul", and the black band the march called " Toll for the Brave ", the latter in memory of the Khedive's subjects who had died with Gordon. Then minute-guns were fired, and four chaplains—Anglican, Presbyterian, Methodist, and Catholic— by turns read a psalm or a prayer. The pipers then wailed a dirge, and finally the Soudanese bands played Gordon's favourite hymn, "Abide with me".
At the conclusion General Hunter and the other officers shook hands with the Sirdar one by one. Kitchener himself was deeply moved, and well he might be! Fourteen years of his life had been spent in preparing for and carrying out this campaign, and now the great task was done. Gordon wks avenged; of the Dervish host the remnant were scattered fugitives. The Mahdi's cause, the foulest and most blood-stained tyranny that had ever existed, transforming as it did a flourishing province into an almost uninhabited desert, was crushed for ever; and it was his patient and unsparing labour, his wonderful organization, that had been the main factor in the work. No wonder that even the Iron Sirdar almost broke down at such a moment.
The bugles sounded, and the troops broke up their formation, and for half an hour wandered through the empty chambers of the palace and the wild and beautiful garden. Another bugle call, and they streamed down to the water's edge, took to the boats, and returned to Omdurman.
The long-delayed duty which England owed to one of her noblest sons had been done: Gordon had had his burial. None knew where his bones reposed, but that mattered little. In the place where he was slain all honour had been done to him, and the British flag waved over the spot where he disappeared for ever from the sight of his countrymen.
On Gregory's return he found Zaki in a state of the highest excitement.
"Why, what is the matter with you, Zaki?"
"Oh, master, I have found my two sisters!"
"That is good news indeed. I am very glad to hear it, Zaki. How did you find them?"
" While you were away, master, I had been walking through the town, and when I was passing near the outskirts a woman came to a door and looked very hard at me. Then she suddenly drew aside the cloth from her face and cried,Surely it is Zaki!' Then I knew her—she was my elder sister. Then another woman came to the door—it was my younger sister, and you can imagine my joy. Both had been married to Baggaras who had carried them off. Their husbands had gone to the battle and had not returned, and some neighbours who had gone to the battle-field next day brought back news that they had found both bodies, so one sister came to stay with the other. People had told them that it was safe to go out, and that no one was injured who did so; but they had a store of grain in the house, and they decided to wait and see what happened. One of them, seeing me come along, and observing that I belonged to the Jaalin, came out to ask me the news, and they were as delighted as I was at our meet-ing."
"And your mother, do they know anything of her!"
"She was killed, master," Zaki said sorrowfully. "I thought possibly it would be so. The Dervishes did not carry off old women; they killed them and the little children. I had never hoped to see her again, but I did think when we entered Omdurman that my sisters might be here."
"What are they going to do!"
" They will go down to Berber. I have told them that many of the people here are going down, and that they will find no difficulty in joining a party. They are sure to find people they know at Berber, for most of the Jaalin who have escaped have gone there since we occupied the place. I told them that I would give them what money I had, for since I have been in my lord's service I have had no occasion to spend aught that he has paid me."
" I have no doubt, Zaki, that I can arrange for them to go down in one of the empty store-boats. I believe that many of the captives who have been released will be sent down that way, and of course I shall be glad to give your sisters enough to keep them for some time at Berber."
" My lord is too good," Zaki said gratefully.
"Nonsense, Zaki! You saved my life, and I owe you a great deal. I will go down at once to the river—that is, if your sisters are ready to start to-morrow,—and I have no doubt the transport officer will give me an order for them to go in one of the boats."
As he had expected, he had no difficulty in making arrangements. Several of the native boats that had already landed their stores would leave on the following day, and Gregory obtained an order for the passage of the two women. He then drew some money from the paymaster, and on his return to head-quarters gave Zaki a hundred dollars for his sisters. The black was overpowered with joy, and, going off, returned with the two girls—for they were little more. Each took one of Gregory's hands and pressed it to her forehead and heart, and murmured her thanks.
"Do not thank me," he said; "it is but a small part of the debt that I owe your brother. I do not know whether he has told you that he saved my life at the risk of his own."
"I have been thinking, my lord," Zaki said, "that it would be well for them to go down in the boat as far as Don-gola. Our village is not many miles from that place, and many of our people fled there, and doubtless they will return to their villages and plant their fields now that they have no longer any fear of the Dervishes. At any rate they are certain to meet friends at Dongola."
"Very well, I will get the order altered; there will be no difficulty about that. I shall be very glad to know that you will have a home to go to when this war is quite over."
" I shall never go as long as my lord will keep me," Zaki said fervently.
" I certainly shall not part with you, Zaki, as long as I remain in this country, which will probably be for a long time."
The next day Zaki aided in carrying his sisters' goods down to the river bank, and saw them on board one of the native craft, which carried also fifteen or twenty other fugitives.
" Now, Mr. Hilliard," General Hunter said that morning, " you can devote yourself to the object for which you came here. Unquestionably there must be many among the prisoners who fought at El Obeid. You may gather all particulars of the battle from their lips. The greater portion of the white troops will march down the country at once. Of course I don't know what your plans may be, but unless you have a very good reason to the contrary I should certainly advise you to retain your position in the Egyptian army. A great deal of work will have to be done before matters are quite settled down, and then civil administration of some sort will of course be formed, under which you would certainly obtain a far better post than you could hope to get at home."
"I have quite made up my mind to do so, sir. Certainly when I left Cairo I had no idea of remaining permanently in the service; but I have been so exceptionally fortunate, owing largely to your kindness, that I have been seriously thinking the matter over, and am quite determined that if I can obtain an appointment I will remain here. I have no ties whatever either in Lower Egypt or in England, no way of earning my living there, and possibly, as I have begun so early, I may rest in time in what will no doubt become an important branch of the Egyptian administration."
"I am glad to hear that you take that view. We all grumble at the Soudan, and yet there are few of us but would be sorry to leave it; and there can be no doubt whatever that, under our administration, it will in time become a magnificently rich and fertile province."
Being relieved from other duty at present, Gregory Avent to the great yard near the mosque, called the Praying Square, where the majority of the Dervish prisoners were confined.
Addressing a man of some five-and-forty years, he asked him in Arabic whether many among the prisoners had fought against Hicks at El Obeid.
The man hesitated.
"I am not asking on the part of the Sirdar," Gregory said; "and you may be sure that if no punishment is inflicted against those who have fought against us now, there can be no thought of punishment for a thing that happened so many years ago. My father was, I believe, one of the English officers killed there; but as he spoke Arabic well it is just possible he was not killed, but, like Slatin and Neufeld, was kept as a slave, in case he might be useful."
"There are many here who fought against Hicks," the native said. "I myself fought there, and nearly all the Baggara who are as old as I am were there also. I have never heard of a white man who escaped death. When we broke into the square the English General and his officers charged into the middle of us, and all fell. I was not close at the time, but I saw their bodies an hour
afterwards."
"My father was not a fighting officer; he was the interpreter, and may not have been near the others. When the attack by your people was made, I have heard that one of the Soudanese regiments held together and marched away, and that there was a white officer with them."
" That was so. Two days afterwards we surrounded' them. They fought hard, and at last, when we had lost many men, we offered that if they would surrender and become the Mahdi's men they would be spared. Most of them did so, just as some of our tribesmen taken by you at Atbara have now taken service with you."
"But the white officer—what became of him?'
"I cannot say," the native said. "I have no memory of him. He may have fallen before they surrendered—who can say ? Certainly I do not remember a white man being killed after they did so. I will ask others who were there, and to-morrow will tell you what they say."
It was a busy day in Omdurman. The army that had made such efforts and achieved so great a triumph marched in military order, with bands playing, through the town. The Sirdar had a double motive in ordering them to do so. In the first place, it was a legitimate triumph of the troops thus to march as conquerors through the town; in the second place, the sight would impress not only the inhabitants but the Dervish prisoners with a sense of the power of those who henceforth would be their masters, and undoubtedly the show had the desired effect. The orderly ranks as they swept along, the proud demeanour of the men, their physique and equipment, created a profound impression among the natives. Half of them were their own kinsmen, many of whom had fought for the Khalifa and had now aided in defeating him. This was what had been accomplished by drill and discipline, and the influence of white officers. The Soudanese were evidently well fed and cared for; not even the haughty Baggara held their heads so high.
Especially admired were the artillery, battery following battery in perfect order. These were the guns that had carried death into the ranks of the Dervishes, against whose fire even the fanatical bravery of the followers of the Khalifa was unable to stand. When the march past was concluded there was scarce one of the prisoners who Avould not gladly have enlisted. On the following day Gregory again went to the Praying Square. The man he had the morning before seen, at once came up to him.