MOUSSA DAOUD EL KANAGA.
Within a few days of the despatch of this messenger, Moussa Daoud-el-Kanaga, also of the Ababdeh tribe, and an old acquaintance of mine, came to see me, and I enlisted his services. I told him of the other arrangements I had made, and asked if he would go partners with Mohammad Ali in effecting my escape. To Kanaga I gave a letter telling my manager that I had drawn against him a draft for £200, and instructing him to honour it; but, in case of accidents, I instructed Kanaga to see Mankarious Effendi at Assouan, and, failing to find him, to make his way to Cairo, and hand the letter to the German Consul. Kanaga left Omdurman about December 30, 1888. |155|
After my remarks anent the reliable unreliability of every one in the Soudan, the deceptions practised one against the other, and the absolute necessity for secrecy, it will naturally be wondered that I entrusted my secret to so many, if secret it could be called when so many knew of it. The explanation is simple. I knew the people I had to deal with, and have you noticed the seemingly insignificant fact that I borrowed money from each of the people I employed? Later in my narrative I will explain these peculiar transactions.
While these different messengers are on their journeys, being “held up” at one place or the other, and at others pretending that they were gradually working their way to Berber or Dongola for trade, I relate what is happening in Omdurman.
News filtered through that the “faithful” had won a great victory over the English at Suakin; but as the Saier filled with prisoners who were present at the fight, and who gave different versions to that ordained by Abdullahi—hence their imprisonment—we learned the truth. The “faithful” had received a severe defeat. Soon after this, the army sent against Abyssinia won its great victory over the forces led by King John, and the fortunes of the Beit-el-Mal took a turn for the better from the proceeds of the sale of slaves and the loot brought in. Adlan was coming into favour again, but Abdullahi was too much occupied in goading on Nejoumi to attack Egypt to give any attention to the decoration of the Mahdi’s tomb or the extension of trade. He was still less inclined to give |156| any attention to such matters, when the news arrived—and it arrived very soon,—that Nejoumi’s army had been almost annihilated at Toski. My evil star was certainly in the ascendant, and was mounting higher and higher, for it was at this time that Joseppi received a flogging for his vocal exercises, and having a severe fit of mental aberration in consequence, he went off to the Saier, and told him that he knew I was a great military general, and that I was maturing plans for the overthrow of Abdullahi. I do not for a moment believe the poor fellow knew what he was saying, for he came back to share my scanty meal as usual.
Kanaga and Mohammad Ali we had calculated would reach Omdurman some time in December or the early days of January, and as the time for their return approached, Adlan evidently became more earnest in his entreaties for the work of decorating the Mahdi’s tomb to be put in hand. My flight would have to take place as soon as possible after the return of my messengers, otherwise the desert relays would disperse, believing that the scheme had fallen through; so it was necessary that I should have been at work for some time before their arrival, that is to say, long enough for my guards to grow lax in watching my movements.
Day after day Adlan sent in to inquire, “Have you any news from the Khaleefa?” and each day the messenger took back my reply, “No; have you?” but my inquiry referred to news of the messengers. At last the joyful news came; the work was to be done, and two guards came to the Saier, |157| and conducted me to the Mahdi’s tomb. There I discovered that my clay model had been faithfully copied, with the exception that the builders had shaped the dome conically. Adlan came to me there, and congratulated me on this being my last day in makkiehs (chains). Telling me to remain at the tomb until his return, he went off to the Khaleefa to receive his order for my transfer to the Beit-el-Mal, and at the very moment he was receiving it, the deputation of the Muslimanieh put in its appearance to report the disappearance of Joseppi. I was hurried back to prison, and an extra makkieh fitted to me. How I cursed Joseppi, but I did not know then that the poor fellow had been murdered. It was not long after this when I saw Adlan brought into the prison, heavily weighted with chains, and taken to a hut some distance from all the others, the prisoners being forbidden to approach or speak to him.
During the night, on pretence of going to the place of ablution, I shuffled towards his hut, and when a few yards distant, lay on the ground and wriggled close up, stretching my chains to prevent their rattling and attracting the notice of the guards. Asking in a whisper, “What has happened?” he replied in a startled voice, “Imshee, imshee (go away, go away), do not speak to me; a big dog has me by the leg this time; go away, or he will get your leg.” I tried again to learn what was the matter, but Adlan’s entreaties for me to go away were so earnest that I wriggled off, and gained my hut without being discovered. Soon afterwards Adlan’s slave boy, when |158| walking past my hut, said, “Do not speak to my master; if you do, you will hear the ombeyeh.” The whole night through the boy passed backwards and forwards between Adlan’s hut and his house outside. Asked as to what he was doing, he gave the same reply each time I put a question to him, “Burning papers; do not speak to my master.” I had learned from Adlan that he had been in communication with “friends,” and understanding from him that, in the event of my ever returning to Egypt, I was to be his “friend at court” with the Government, I suspected that he was destroying all evidences which might be used against himself and others. That the Khaleefa himself had received word of some correspondence is evident from the rage he exhibited when Adlan’s house was searched, and no incriminating documents found. Idris es Saier nearly lost his head over the matter, for the Khaleefa accused him of having assisted Adlan in disposing of the papers in some way.
On the morning of the third or fourth day of Adlan’s imprisonment, we saw him led out of his hut bound, and taken to the anvil to have his chains struck off. We all knew what this meant—an execution, but most of us believed that the Khaleefa was only doing this to frighten Adlan, and impress him with this evidence of his power. We were not allowed to approach him, but Adlan called out, “This is my day; have no fear, any of you. I am a man. I shall say and do nothing a man need be ashamed of. Farewell.” While extra chains were being fitted to |159| my ankles, the ombeyehs were announcing the death of Adlan. The mourning for his death was general, but few if any knew the reasons which actuated the Khaleefa in ordering his execution. Maybe the fugitive Khaleefa himself only knows, but it is possible I can throw a little light on the matter. To coin a word, Adlan had been “Gordonized;” about the time of the anniversary of Gordon’s death, Adlan met with his, and while waiting for that help which, as will be seen, started “too late.”