This episode served to remind us very forcibly that we were still in the Khalifa's territory. Strange thoughts passed through my mind in quick succession: Omdurman, the Khalifa, the Saier, unbearable insults, then death. All these awaited us if we failed in our attempt; but then I comforted myself with the thought we should never be taken alive; we had solemnly agreed never to submit. It was in this frame of mind that we quitted Meshra Dehesh and rode for our lives night and day; the poor camels were reduced to skeletons, and we ourselves were nothing but skin and bone.
Ahmed told me that when the guard recognized him he showed himself kindly disposed, and promised not to betray us; but Ahmed did not trust him, and would not, therefore, let him go until he had accepted some money; he had pressed twenty dollars into his hand. The guard accepted the money after extracting a solemn promise from Ahmed and his companions that they would not attempt to revenge themselves on him or his tribe—the Monasir—on their return to Korosko. The guard also swore solemnly that he would not betray or pursue us, and moreover agreed to prevent the patrols going into the desert for three days, so as to keep us out of danger's way; they had then embraced and kissed each other as a sign of sincerity.
In spite, however, of all these solemn oaths, I did not trust the man; the fate of poor Colonel Stewart and his companions came into my mind, and I remembered that they had been cruelly done to death by the cowardly and treacherous Monasir; we therefore hurried forward our camels with all possible speed, leaving Abu Hamed far away on our left.
The day broke as usual, and soon the sun was risen and burning more fiercely than ever, but that did not trouble us. We were far too much absorbed in the momentous event which had just occurred. Our track ran through a perfectly flat plain, in which not a shrub or blade of grass was to be seen. We passed the tracks of the captured slave-dealer and the patrols, and that evening entered on the caravan road leading from Abu Hamed to Korosko. The track ran through great bare hills and solitary valleys; the wind had driven the sand almost to the tops of the hills, and had filled up all the crevices with sand-drifts.
Once within the hills, our courage returned, for we knew we would be able to defend ourselves; so we dismounted and ate our last mouthful of biscuit, and now all we had was our water, which, by the way, we jokingly remarked was somewhat dear, as it had cost us twenty dollars.
After a short rest we set off again, but both we and our camels were utterly exhausted; my right arm ached from continually whipping up the poor beast. Our Arab companions lightened the way with hundreds of interesting anecdotes of their own deserts. They related how, when Berber fell, an Arab and six Egyptian women had fled; but the man had brought only a camel or two and very little water, so four of them had died of thirst. They pointed out the spot which Rundle Bey had reached when he reconnoitred Abu Hamed in 1885. The road was plainly marked out by the bones of camels and donkeys, and, prior to the appearance of the Mahdi, had been a much-used trade route.
Mohammed Ali Pasha had ridden along this road under the guidance of Hussein Pasha Khalifa. Mohammed Ali had constantly expressed a desire to halt, but his guide would not allow him to dismount, except at certain places, saying, "I am commander here;" and to this Mohammed Ali had willingly consented, for he well knew that a refusal to do as he was told by the sheikh of the desert, in that awful wilderness, might have been followed by very serious results.
Our approach to a haven of safety gave us courage to undergo most terrible fatigue. By far our worst enemy was sleep; it is quite impossible for me to describe the fearful attacks this tyrannical foe made upon us. We tried every means in our power to keep awake; we shouted and talked loudly to each other; we tried to startle ourselves by giving a sudden jerk; we pinched ourselves till the blood ran down, but our eyelids weighed down like balls of lead, and it required a fearful effort to keep them open. "Ma tenamu" ("Don't sleep"), Ahmed kept repeating, "or you will fall off and break your leg."
But it was all no good; the conversation would flag, and silence follow. The camels seemed to know their riders were asleep, and instinctively fell into slower pace; the head kept nodding, until it sunk upon the chest; with a sudden start, the equilibrium which had been almost lost would be recovered, and then sleep vanished.
At times we would shout out to one another words of encouragement, then we would whip up our camels and on again, up and down, through sandy plains and rocky gorges, where the echoes seemed to repeat themselves a hundred times. Our destination was Murat, where we remembered Gordon had given orders for a well to be dug, but it had never been done.