This work kept Wilson busy till the 24th of January, when he proceeded up the Nile, arriving on the 28th of January within a mile and a half of Khartoum. He found that the city had fallen on the 26th, when the Buri gate had been opened by treachery to the Mahdi’s troops, who had rushed in and made the streets of the doomed town run red with blood. Gordon it seems was killed, on refusing to surrender, by a small party of Baggarahs, who met him coming out of his palace. While reconnoitring Khartoum, Wilson’s two steamers were so hotly engaged with the enemy’s batteries that he was forced to turn back.[223] On the return voyage he adroitly foiled the plans of some of his followers who attempted to betray him to the Mahdi, but unfortunately his steamers were wrecked, it is supposed, by the treachery of his pilots. He was, however, rescued by Lord Charles Beresford in one of the armed vessels from Gubat, to which Wilson brought back his party without loss of life.[224] Wilson found his force in safety, but sadly depressed because they had heard nothing from headquarters. He immediately proceeded thither in terms of his instructions, to report the fall of Khartoum to Lord Wolseley, and urge him to relieve Gubat without delay.
MAP OF THE WAR IN THE SOUDAN.
Little need be said of the fall of Khartoum—the crowning disaster of the campaign. Gordon’s Journals show how, alone and unaided, in defending the city, during a siege that lasted 319 days, he kept at bay the swarming hordes of the Mahdi. The romantic record of his life amply illustrates his higher qualities—the chivalry and loyalty; the sweet, gentle manners, the kindliness of heart, the stainless honour, the infinite self-abnegation, the patient endurance, the stubborn valour, the natural and acquired military skill that made him
“A soldier fit to stand by Cæsar
And give direction.”
His Khartoum “Journals” show more than that. They prove that from first to last through the long series of transactions that led up to the fall of the city, Gordon was the only man who kept his head cool, who acted from firm set purpose, who was not afraid to look on the facts with naked eyes, whose inexhaustible ingenuity in dealing practically with every fresh difficulty as it arose never failed him or his masters, and whose shrewd and sagacious prevision was never once ignored, save at the cost of cruel suffering to those who refused his guidance.[225] Valour and virtue such as his can indeed “outbuild the Pyramids.” Of the millions of English men and English women, who mourned over the heroic defender of Khartoum, none grieved more bitterly for his loss than the Queen. To his sister she wrote as follows:—
“Osborne, 17th February, 1885.
“Dear Miss Gordon,—How shall I write to you, or how shall I attempt to express what I feel! To think of your dear, noble, heroic Brother, who served his country and his Queen so truly, so heroically, with a self-sacrifice so edifying to the world, not having been rescued. That the promises of support were not fulfilled—which I so frequently and constantly pressed on those who asked him to go—is to me grief inexpressible!—indeed, it has made me ill! My heart bleeds for you, his Sister, who have gone through so many anxieties on his account, and who loved the dear Brother as he deserved to be. You are all so good and trustful, and have such strong faith, that you will be sustained even now, when real absolute evidence of your dear Brother’s death does not exist—but I fear there cannot be much doubt of it. Some day I hope to see you again to tell you all I cannot express. My daughter Beatrice, who has felt quite as I do, wishes me to express her deepest sympathy with you. I hear so many expressions of sorrow and sympathy from abroad; from my eldest daughter, the Crown Princess, and from my Cousin, the King of the Belgians, the very warmest. Would you express to your other Sisters and your elder Brother my true sympathy, and what I do so keenly feel—the stain left upon England for your dear Brother’s cruel, though heroic, fate!—Ever, dear Miss Gordon, yours sincerely and sympathisingly,
“V.R.I.”[226]