The population at this period may be said to have divided itself into three camps; the one praying—and sincerely, for the victory to Mahdieh; the second praying openly to the same end, but breathing prayers to Heaven for just the reverse; the third camp—and |261| this the bigger of the three, consisting of those waiting to see which side would probably win in order to throw in its lot with it. Dozens of people, who really were friends of the Government, came to me in prison asking advice as to what they might do before the troops actually arrived to evidence their loyalty, and it must not be forgotten that they were risking death at the hour of deliverance. To most I was still the “brother of Stephenson el Ingleezee,” and there were “brothers” of mine coming up with the Government troops.
I was able, through these people, to collect the information I was sending off daily by spies. Abdallah-el-Mahassi, who had received some message from Major Fitton, asking about me, and also asking for all information procurable concerning the arms and ammunition possessed by the dervishes, sent to me the spy Worrak, who had been released from prison, for any information I could give. Worrak, doubtless looking forward to a reward, decided upon delivering my messages himself. He was to be accompanied by two others; so, besides giving him notes with the numbers of rifles, etc., issued to the troops, and a last warning about the mines near Halfeyeh, I gave the information verbally to the three, so that, in the event of it being found necessary to destroy the papers, the verbal messages would get through. Worrak and his companions left, but were intercepted by Abd-el-Baagi’s scouts. Inflating their water-skins, they took to the river under a shower of bullets. Worrak must have been killed or drowned, |262| as he was not seen again; but the two others reached the British lines, delivered the messages, and said that they would be confirmed by Worrak, who they then thought must have been carried by the current to the east bank of the Nile. These were the last messengers I actually sent off.
One of the Saier gaolers had worked himself into a state of frenzied excitement in describing, for the edification of the prisoners—and mine in particular, the coming destruction of the infidels. He gloated over the time when the principal officers—their eyes gouged out to prevent their looking upon the benign face of his master, would be brought into the Saier, and there baited for the amusement of the populace. How little the Sirdar thought, on that September evening, that one of the gaolers grovelling at his feet had, but a few days previously, looked forward to the time when he, blinded and shackled, would be lashed round the place, and, with the rest of my “brothers,” spend the nights in the “Umm Hagar.” This gaoler, in his mad enthusiasm, rushed at me, and nearly succeeded in gouging out my left eye. There was a struggle, and getting up almost breathless, and certainly driven to desperation, I turned stupidly round, and prophesied, for his edification this time, that the destruction he had predicted for my “brothers” was the destruction which was to fall upon Mahdieh.
SHEREEF, THE “FALSE FOURTH KHALEEFA.”
It was fortunate for me that, for a few days previous, Idris es Saier had been sending for me, under one pretext and another, and asking what action he should |263| take in case the English won the battle. I promised that if he treated me well, I would say “good words” for him; but perhaps Fauzi’s tale made the greatest impression upon him. Fauzi related that when the English took Egypt there was one gaoler at Alexandria and another at Cairo. The gaoler at Cairo treated his prisoners well, and so the English promoted him; the gaoler at Alexandria killed his prisoners, and ran away to another country across the seas, but the English brought him back, and hanged him in his old prison. Knowing that the troops were close, Idris took me under his especial care, for he knew I had sent messages to my “brothers” telling them I was alive, and he feared that if they came and found me dead, they would hang him on the same scaffold with my corpse. Although he warned the gaolers and spies to say that I was mad, and did not know what I had been saying, my little speech by some means got to Yacoub’s ears. I was carefully watched, and no one from outside was allowed to speak to me. I should have been taken out of prison to see the great fight, but I believe that I was the only Christian not called out to the field of battle. I had asked Idris not to remove my chains if I was sent for. I had no wish to be found alive or dead on the field as a practically free man, and, dressed as a dervish, any attempt on my part to escape to the British lines during the fight could only end in my being shot down.
The Khaleefa had been sitting for eight days in the mosque in communion with the Prophet and the Mahdi, and it was either on the Tuesday night or |264| Wednesday morning immediately preceding the battle that the decision to move out of town was arrived at. On the Wednesday afternoon a grand parade of all the troops was held on the new parade ground, and, while it was being held, alarming news was brought by Abd-el-Baagi’s messengers. Instead of returning to the town as intended, the Khaleefa set off with the whole army in a north-westerly direction. It was this hurried movement which accounted for the greater part of the arms and ammunition he required being left in the Beit-el-Amana, for Abdullahi had intended distributing the remainder of the rifles only at the last moment, when his troops would have to use them against the infidels in self-defence; he could trust none but his Baggara and Taaishi. Sheikh ed Din, with Yunis, Osman Digna, Khaleefa Shereef, and Ali Wad Helu, moved off first in command of the attacking army of 35,000 rifles and horsemen. Yacoub followed in command of a similar number of spear and swordsmen; in all, the army assembled must have numbered between 75,000 and 80,000 men. As every male had been taken from Omdurman, the Khaleefa issued a hundred rifles to the gaolers with which to shoot down the prisoners in case of trouble.
That night the rain came down in torrents, and the following day the army arose uncomfortable, and maybe a little dispirited, but Abdullahi restored their good spirits by the relation of a vision. During the night the Prophet and the Mahdi had come to him, and let him see beforehand the result of the battle; the souls of the faithful killed were all rising |265| to Paradise, while the legions of hell were seen tearing into shreds the spirits of the infidels. While this tale was going its rounds, the gunboats were creeping up, and a further move to the north was ordered, for it had been reported that the English were landing the big guns on Tuti Island, to shell the camp.
We, too, in prison heard that the gunboats were approaching, and then we heard the distant boom, boom of the guns gradually nearing and growing louder. Before we had time to speculate as to whether the great fight had commenced or not, a boy whom I had stationed on the roof of a gaoler’s house, came running down to say that the “devils” were passing Halfeyeh. At the same moment we were smothered in dust and stones; a shell had struck the top of the prison wall, ricochetted to the opposite wall, and fallen without exploding in the prison of the women. All we prisoners hurried off and squatted at the base of the north wall, believing this to be the safest place. The air was now filled with what to us chained wretches appeared to be the yells and screeches of legions of the damned let loose. We shuddered and looked helplessly from one to the other. Then I noticed that the shells were all flying high over us. Getting to my feet, I rushed—as far as my shackles allowed—stumbling to the middle of the open space, tried to dance and jump, called on all to come and join me. I shouted that my “brothers” had got my messages; that only one place in Omdurman would be left—the Saier; my brothers would spare all their lives for me. Yes, I had gone mad; reason had left |266| me, and I was raving, laughing, crying, singing, kissing my hands in welcome to those terrible messengers of death screeching and yelling overhead; throwing open my arms, and leaping up to embrace the shell which a second later was to gather in death seventy-two then praying in the mosque.*
* The flight of the shells overhead had a most extraordinary effect; they appeared to compress the atmosphere and press it down to the earth; we could actually feel the pressure on our bodies, and with some it brought on nausea.