With Kitchener in the Soudan: A Story of Atbara and Omdurman

by G. A. Henty

"From time to time I lifted my head, and saw several large parties of the enemy, moving in the distance. They were evidently bound on a journey, and were not thinking of looking for me. I chewed the sour leaves of the camel bush; and this, to some extent, alleviated my thirst.

"I determined at last that I would, in the first place, march to the wells towards which we had been pressing, when the Dervishes came up to us. They were nearly three miles south of the spot where the square had stood. No doubt, Dervishes would be there; but, if discovered by them, it was better to die so than of thirst.

"Half an hour before the sun sank, I started. No horsemen were in sight, and if any were to come along, I could see them long before they could notice me. Knowing the general direction, I was fortunate enough to get sight of the palm grove which surrounded the wells, before darkness set in.

"It lay about two miles away, and there were certainly moving objects round it. I lay down until twilight had passed, and then went forward. When within two or three hundred yards of the grove, I lay down again, and waited. That the Dervishes would all go to sleep, however long I might wait, was too much to hope for. They would be sure to sit and talk, far into the night, of the events of the last three or four days.

"Shielding myself as well as I could, by the bushes, I crawled up until I was in the midst of some camels, which were browsing. Here I stood up, and then walked boldly into the grove. As I had expected, two or three score of Dervishes were sitting in groups, talking gravely. They had destroyed the Turks (as they always called the Egyptians, and their infidel white leaders), but had suffered heavily themselves. The three hundred Soudanese who had surrendered, and who had taken service with the Mahdi, were but poor compensation for the losses they had suffered.

"'A year ago,' one old sheik said, 'I was the father of eight brave sons. Now they have all gone before me. Four of them fell in the assaults at El Obeid, two at Baria, and the last two have now been killed. I shall meet them all again, in the abode of the blessed; and the sooner the better, for I have no one left to care for.'

"Others had tales of the loss of relations and friends, but I did not wait to listen further. Taking up a large water gourd, that stood empty at the foot of one of the trees, I boldly walked to the well, descended the rough steps at the water's edge, and drank till I could drink no longer; and then, filling the gourd, went up again.

"No one noticed me. Had they looked at me they would have seen, even in the darkness, the great patches down the front of the robe; but I don't think anyone did notice me. Other figures were moving about, from group to group, and I kept on through the grove, until beyond the trees. I came out on the side opposite to that which I had entered, and, as I expected, found some of the Dervish horses grazing among the bushes.

"No guard was placed over them, as they were too well trained to wander far. I went out to them and chose the poorest, which happened to be farther among the bushes than the others. I had thought the matter well over. If a good horse were taken, there would be furious pursuit, as soon as it was missed; and this might be soon, for the Arabs are passionately fond of their favourite horses--more so than they are of their families. While I had been waiting at the edge of the wood, more than one had come out to pat and fondle his horse, and give it a handful of dates. But a poor animal would meet with no such attention, and the fact that he was missing was not likely to be discovered till daylight. Probably, no great search would be made for it. The others would ride on, and its owner might spend some hours in looking about, thinking it had strayed away, and was lying somewhere among the bushes.

"I had no thought of trying to return to Khartoum. The wells were far apart, and Dervish bands were certain to be moving along the line. It seemed to me that El Obeid was the safest place to go to. True, it was in the hands of the Mahdists, but doubtless many wounded would be making their way there. Some, doubtless, would have wives and children. Others might have come from distant villages, but these would all make for the town, as the only place where they could find food, water, and shelter.