At 7.45 the Sirdar ordered the advance. The British brigade held the left wing, the Camerons leading in line formation, while behind them in columns were ranged the Warwicks, Seaforths, and Lincolns, to add weight to the onset. Macdonald's and Maxwell's Egyptian and Sudanese Brigades, drawn up in lines, formed the centre and right. Squadrons of Egyptian horse and a battery of Maxims confronted the Dervish horsemen ranged along; the front of a dense scrub to the left of the zariba. As the converging lines advanced, they were met by a terrific discharge; fortunately it was aimed too high, or the loss would have been fearful. Then the Highlanders and Sudanese rushed in, tore apart the thorn bushes and began a fierce fight at close quarters. From their shelter trenches, pits, and huts the Dervishes poured in spasmodic volleys, or rushed at their assailants with spear or bayonet. Even at this the fanatics of the desert were no match for the seasoned troops of the Sirdar; and soon the beaten remnant streamed out through the scrub or over the dry bed of the Atbara. About 2500 were killed, and 2000, including Mahmud, the commander, were taken prisoners. Those who attempted to reach the fertile country round Kassala were there hunted down or captured by the Egyptian garrison that lately had arrived there.
As on previous occasions, the Sirdar now waited some time until the railway could be brought up to the points lately conquered. More gunboats were also constructed for the final stage of the expedition. The dash at Omdurman and Khartum promised to tax to the uttermost the strength of the army; but another brigade of British troops, commanded by Colonel Lyttelton, soon joined the expedition, bringing its effective strength up to 23,000 men. General Gatacre received the command of the British division. Ten gunboats, five transport steamers, and eight barges promised to secure complete command of the river banks and to provide means for transporting the army and all needful stores to the western bank of the Nile whenever the Sirdar judged it to be advisable. The midsummer rains in the equatorial districts now made their influence felt, and in the middle of August the Nile covered the sandbanks and rocks that made navigation dangerous at the time of "low Nile." In the last week of that month all was ready for the long and carefully prepared advance. The infantry travelled in steamers or barges as far as the foot of the Shabluka, or Sixth Cataract, and this method of advance left the Dervishes in some doubt by which bank the final advance would be made.
By an unexpected piece of good fortune the Dervishes had evacuated the rocky heights of the Shabluka gorge. This was matter for rejoicing. There the Nile, which above and below is a mile wide, narrows to a channel of little more than a hundred yards in width. It is the natural defence of Khartum on the north. The strategy of the Khalifa was here again inexplicable, as also was his abandonment of the ridge at Kerreri, some seven miles north of Omdurman. Mr. Bennett Burleigh in his account of the campaign states that the Khalifa had repaired thither once a year to give thanks for the triumph about to be gained there.
At last on September 1, on topping the Kerreri ridge, the invaders caught their first glimpse of Omdurman. Already the gunboats were steaming up to the Mahdist capital to throw in their first shells. They speedily dismounted several guns, and one of the shells tore away a large portion of the gaudy cupola that covered the Mahdi's tomb. Apart from this portent, nothing of moment was done on that day; but it seems probable that the bombardment led the Khalifa to hazard an attack on the invaders in the desert on the side away from the Nile. Nearer to the Sirdar's main force the skirmishing of the 21st Lancers, new to war but eager to "win their spurs," was answered by angry but impotent charges of the Khalifa's horse and foot, until at sunset both sides retired for the night's rest.
The Anglo-Egyptian force made a zariba around the village of el-Gennuaia on the river bank; and there, in full expectation of a night attack, they sought what slumber was to be had. What with a panic rush of Sudanese servants and the stampede of an angry camel, the night wore away uneasily; but there was no charge of Dervishes such as might have carried death to the heart of that small zariba. It is said that the Sirdar had passed the hint to some trusty spies to pretend to be deserters and warn the enemy that he was going to attack them by night. If this be so, spies have never done better service.
When the first glimmer of dawn came on September 2, every man felt instinctively that the Khalifa had thrown away his last chance. Yet few were prepared for the crowning act of madness. Every one feared that he would hold fast to Omdurman and fight the new crusaders from house to house. Possibly the seeming weakness of the zariba tempted him to a concentric attack from the Kerreri Hills and the ridge which stretches on both sides of the steep slopes of the hill, Gebel Surgham. A glance at the accompanying plan will show that the position was such as to tempt a confident enemy. The Sirdar also manoeuvred so as to bring on an attack. He sent out the Egyptian cavalry and camel corps soon after dawn to the plain lying between Gebel Surgham and Omdurman to lure on the Khalifa's men.
The device was completely successful. Believing that they could catch the horsemen in the rocky ridge alongside of Gebel Surgham, the Dervishes came forth from their capital in swarms, pressed them hard, and inflicted some losses. Retiring in good order, the cavalry drew on the eager hordes, until about 6.30 A.M. the white glint of their gibbehs, or tunics, showed thickly above the tawny slopes on either side of Gebel Surgham. On they came in unnumbered throngs, until, pressing northwards along the sky-line, their lines also topped the Kerreri Hills to the north of the zariba. Their aim was obvious: they intended to surround the invaders, pen them up in their zariba, and slaughter them there. To all who did not know the value of the central position in war and the power of modern weapons, the attack seemed to promise complete success. The invaders were 1300 miles away from Cairo and defeat would mean destruction.
Religious zeal lent strength to the onset. From the converging crescent of the Mahdists a sound as of a dim murmur was wafted to the zariba. Little by little it deepened to a hoarse roar, as the host surged on, chanting the pious invocations that so often had struck terror into the Egyptians. Now they heard the threatening din with hearts unmoved; nay, with spirits longing for revenge for untold wrongs and insults. Thus for some minutes in that vast amphitheatre the discipline and calm confidence of the West stood quietly facing the fanatic fury of the East. Two worlds were there embattled: the world of Mohammedanism and the world of Christian civilisation; the empire of untutored force and the empire of mind.
At last, after some minutes of tense expectancy, the cannon opened fire, and speedily gaps were seen in the white masses. Yet the crescent never slackened its advance, except when groups halted to fire their muskets at impossible ranges. Waving their flags and intoning their prayers, the Dervishes charged on in utter scorn of death; but when their ranks came within range of the musketry fire, they went down like swathes of grass under the scythe. Then was seen a marvellous sight. When the dead were falling their fastest, a band of about 150