Another insect pest was a huge yellow spider of loathsome aspect and malignant disposition, called by the natives "Abu Shebek" (Father of Spiders). This creature was frequently captured and conveyed to some regimental mess, where it was forced to engage in single combat with a scorpion. These adversaries were, as a rule, pretty evenly matched, and the "Warwickshire Pet," a monstrous spider, appeared to be invincible until it was matched against the "Cameron Slogger," a redoubtable scorpion, who vanquished his opponent after a desperate struggle amid loud cheers from the victorious mess.
In the ordinary course of events we should have moved on from Um Teref at daybreak on the 29th, but owing to a succession of storms on the Nile the full complement of gunboats and ghyassas laden with stores and baggage had not yet arrived, and so the order to march was countermanded, and we remained in the zeriba for another night. The extra day, however, was not as pleasant as it might have been amongst the shady trees, for the violent wind which was retarding the progress of the gunboats swept incessant clouds of dust over the camp all the morning. Later in the day, however, the wind sank, and I enjoyed a delightful ramble along the river beyond the zeriba. Here I found, amongst other treasures, an enormous brick-red beetle, which clung to a tree with such pertinacity that I had to cut away a piece of the branch and boil it and the beetle together before the latter would abandon his hold and be duly pickled in the whisky.
Early in the morning some squadrons of Egyptian cavalry and the Camel Corps had left the camp to make a reconnaissance, but none of the correspondents were permitted to accompany this force. They did not, however, lose much, for the cavalry brought back scarcely any information, beyond the news that fresh tracks had been seen of Dervish horsemen retreating southwards towards Omdurman.
On the morning of the 30th we were up by 4 a.m., and the camels were loaded by lantern-light. Nobody was sorry to rise, for, acting under orders, we had all struck our tents the night before to save time in the morning, and, as bad luck would have it, a storm of rain and lightning burst over the camp about midnight. There are few things more disagreeable than to have rain pouring down upon one as one sleeps, or tries to sleep, in the open. When the first heavy drops begin to fall everybody knows what is to follow, and various execrations are heard all around in the darkness, as the suddenly awakened sleepers put some garments on, hide others under the pillow, and do their best with a mackintosh to turn off the rain and keep it from collecting in pools under their backs. The Arab servants are always in the lowest depths of depression when it rains. Their thin cotton garments soon get soaked through, but I felt somewhat reluctant to lend them any of my wraps, as on a previous occasion, during a tropical downpour, I told two Somali servants that they might cover themselves with my waterproof, and during the night they each rolled in a different direction, and split my splendid red-lined mackintosh into two portions. These two Somali boys, by the way, whenever a heavy shower overtook us in the daytime, always did their very best to keep their heads dry. They would dash off and thrust their shaven pates under a rock or inside an old packing-case, and seemed to be comparatively indifferent about the rest of their black bodies, which lay exposed to the weather.
When we left the camp en masse at five, the rain gradually ceased, and the sun rose in splendour across the Nile. The spectacle before us was magnificent. Column after column of infantry—black, chocolate, and white—advanced in perfect order, and squadrons of cavalry scouted on the flanks and far ahead, searching out every patch of scrub which might conceal a force of Dervishes. The Sirdar and his staff advanced in front, and the numerous halts and consultations which were made showed how carefully and cautiously the army was advancing. The troops were actually marching in battle order, ready at any moment to close into square formation if the enemy appeared; and one realised, as never before during the campaign, that we were really in a state of war. Our Lancer scouts had at length come into touch with the enemy, and had even fired a volley at one of several parties of Dervish horse who were sullenly retreating through the bush towards Kerreri.
We were already well within twenty-five miles of Omdurman. Along the line of march we came across several large Dervish villages, abandoned by their inhabitants within the last day or two. In the hurry of flight angaribs (native beds), calabashes, and even a little food had been left behind. In some spots the fires which had cooked the last meal of these unfortunate villagers were still smouldering, and, either from accident or design, several of the huts had been destroyed by fire. The ground was strewn with fragments of earthenware cooking-pots, which the poor creatures had carefully broken up before they fled away to the dubious protection of the Omdurman walls. Close beside one of the deserted huts a tiny donkey stood and gazed upon us—the sole surviving occupant of the village. One of the servants, with a keen eye for loot, immediately annexed the little donkey; but I refused to take it, as I thought it would be happier amid its native surroundings, where it could eke out a precarious living amongst the herbage on the river bank. As I rode past several of the huts I noticed inside some strips of leather rudely embroidered with cowries, which had been used to suspend a gourd of water. The workmanship was so rough that I did not think this loot worth taking, though several Lancers thought differently, for I afterwards saw similar trophies hung over their saddles.
Towards the middle of this day's march a rather amusing incident occurred. A small party of Lancers scouting in one of the deserted villages suddenly came across an Arab clad in a fine gibbeh, with a long spear in his hand. Here, at last, was a living Dervish within five yards! He made no effort to escape, and was at once surrounded and taken prisoner. On his being searched, five Maria Theresa dollars were discovered in the folds of his clothing, and the triumphant Lancers returned to the Sirdar and his staff with the proud consciousness of having captured the first real Dervish prisoner of the campaign. After a modest rehearsal of their achievement, they begged that in memory of the event the gibbeh, dollars, and spear of the captive might be handed over to themselves. No objection being raised, the prisoner, who, throughout the affair, had looked not at all alarmed, but only rather bored, was again led off to be interrogated by the Intelligence Department, when the exultant Lancers learned that the captive was one of Colonel Wingate's best spies, and after doing some excellent work in front had been quietly waiting to rejoin our forces! The five dollars had to be unearthed from the depths of the Lancers' pockets, and the imitation Dervish again strutted proudly about with his coat of many colours and his broad-bladed spear.
The army advanced over the uneven ground in excellent order. The long lines, now lost in the hollows, now broken for the moment by impenetrable masses of thorn bush, kept their formation marvellously well; and often, as they appeared over the crest of a sandy ridge, the line was as perfect as on a field day at Aldershot. As regards actual pace, the Sudanese blacks can easily outmarch the Tommies, and would invariably have been well in the van if the échelon formation had not been carefully preserved.
The day's march on the 30th was not more than some eight or nine miles. We halted for the night beside the river at a spot exactly opposite a village called Merreh on the other bank. At some little distance inland, on our right front, a hill rose up called Seg-et-taib, and, for convenience, the camp has been generally named after the hill. Trees and bushes grew abundantly within our zeriba, and along the margin of the Nile large clumps of bright green grass were greedily devoured by the ponies, which, like all Oriental riding-horses, lashed out viciously at each other whenever their tethering ropes allowed it, and sometimes fought and tore each other with their teeth like tigers. The river banks at Seg-et-taib were rather difficult of access, as strips of marshy land ran in every direction parallel to the stream. Everyone who reached the water on foot was covered with black slimy mud up to his knees; and as we rode through the bog our horses sank up to their flanks in the soft ooze, but managed somehow to flounder through it without rolling over with their riders. A pleasant spot beneath some trees was assigned for our camp, but when we reached it we found a bevy of Sudanese ladies already in possession. A little bakshish, however, solved the difficulty, and the fair ones withdrew, after cleverly tying up pots and pans and babies within the folds of their voluminous garments.