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

The contrast between the newly-arrived brigade, and the hardy veterans who had fought at the Atbara, was striking. Bronzed and hearty, inured to heat and fatigue, the latter looked fit to go anywhere and do anything, and there was hardly a sick man in the four regiments. On the other hand, the newcomers looked white and exhausted with the heat. Numbers had already broken down, and the doctors at the hospital had their hands full of fever patients. They had scarcely marched a mile since they landed in Egypt, and were so palpably unfit for hard work that they were, if possible, to proceed the whole way in boats, in order to be in fighting condition when the hour of battle arrived.

The voyage up the river was an uneventful one. It seemed all too short to Gregory, who enjoyed immensely the rest, quiet, and comparative coolness. The Sirdar had gone up a week before they landed at Wady Hamed. Here the whole Egyptian portion of the army, with the exception of the brigade that was to arrive the next day, was assembled. The blacks had constructed straw huts; the Egyptians erected shelters, extemporized from their blankets; while the British were to be installed in tents, which had been brought up in sailing boats. The camp was two miles in length and half a mile wide, surrounded by a strong zareba.

The Egyptian cavalry and the camel corps had arrived. On the opposite side of the river was a strong body of friendly Arabs, nominally under the Abadar sheik, but in reality commanded by Major Montague Stuart-Wortley. By the 23rd of August the whole force had arrived; and the Sirdar reviewed them, drawn up in battle array, and put them through a few manoeuvres, as if in action. General Gatacre commanded the British division–Colonel Wauchope the first brigade, and Lyttleton the second. As before, Macdonald, Maxwell, and Lewis commanded the first three Egyptian brigades, and Collinson that newly raised, General Hunter being in command of the division.

The force numbered, in all, about twenty thousand; and although destitute of the glitter and colour of a British army, under ordinary circumstances, were as fine a body of men as a British general could wish to command; and all, alike, eager to meet the foe. The British division had with them two batteries and ten Maxims, and the Egyptian division five batteries and ten Maxims.

As Gregory was strolling through the camp, he passed where the officers of one of the British regiments were seated on boxes, round a rough table, over which a sort of awning had been erected.

"Come and join us, Hilliard. We are having our last feast on our last stores, which we got smuggled up in one of the gunboats," the Major called out.

"With pleasure, sir."

The officer who was sitting at the head of the table made room beside him.

"You men of the Egyptian Army fare a good deal better than we do, I think," the Major went on. "That institution of private camels is an excellent one. We did not know that they would be allowed. But, after all, it is not a bad thing that we did not have them, for there is no doubt it is as well that the soldiers should not see us faring better than they. There is bother enough with the baggage, as it is. Of course, it is different in your case. There are only two or three white officers with each battalion, and it would not strike your black troops as a hardship that you should have different food from themselves. They are living as well as, or better than, they ever did in their lives. Three camels make no material addition to your baggage train, while, as there are thirty or forty of us, it would make a serious item in ours, and the General's keen eyes would spot them at once."

"Our camels are no burden to the army," Gregory said. "They only have a few pounds of grain a day, and get their living principally on what they can pick up. When they go on now, they will each carry fifty pounds of private grain. They get five pounds when there are no bushes or grass, so that the grain will last them for a fortnight."

"I suppose you think that the Dervishes mean fighting?"

"I think there is no doubt about it. All the fugitives that come in say that the Khalifa will fight, but whether it will be in the defence of Omdurman, or whether he will come out and attack us at Kerreri, none can say. The Khalifa keeps his intentions to himself."

"By the bye, Hilliard, I don't think you know my right-hand neighbour; he only joined us an hour before we started, having been left behind at Cairo, sick.

"Mr. Hartley, let me introduce you to Mr. Hilliard–I should say Bimbashi Hilliard. He is on General Hunter's staff."

The young lieutenant placed an eyeglass in his eye, and bowed to Gregory.

"Have you been in this beastly country long?" he asked.

"If you include Lower Egypt, I have been here eighteen years."

"Dear me!" the other drawled; "the climate seems to have agreed with you."

"Fairly well," Gregory replied. "I don't mind the heat much, and one doesn't feel it, while one is at work."

"Hartley has not tried that, yet," one of the others laughed. "Work is not in his line. This most unfortunate illness of his kept him back at Cairo, and he brought such a supply of ice with him, when he came up, that he was able to hand over a hundredweight of it to us when he arrived. I don't think, Major, that in introducing him you should have omitted to mention that, but for a temporary misfortune, he would be the Marquis of Langdale; but in another two years he will blossom out into his full title, and then I suppose we shall lose him."

Gregory, whose knowledge of the English peerage was extremely limited, looked puzzled.

"May I ask how that is?" he said. "I always thought that the next heir to a title succeeded to it, as soon as his father died."

"As a rule that is the case," the Major said, "but the present is an exceptional one. At the death of the late marquis, the heir to the title was missing. I may say that the late marquis only enjoyed the title for two years. The next of kin, a brother of his, had disappeared, and up to the present no news has been obtained of him. Of course he has been advertised for, and so on, but without success. It is known that he married, but as he did so against the wish of his father, he broke off all communication with his family; and it is generally supposed that he emigrated. Pending any news of him, the title is held in abeyance.

"He may have died. It is probable that he has done so, for he could hardly have escaped seeing the advertisements that were inserted in every paper. Of course, if he has left children, they inherit the title.

"After a lapse of five years Mr. Hartley's father, who was the next heir, and who died five years ago, applied to be declared the inheritor of the title; but the peers, or judges, or someone decided that twenty-one years must elapse before such an application could be even considered. The income has been accumulating ever since, so that at the end of that time, it is probable that Mr. Hartley will be allowed to assume the title.

"Will the estates go with the title, Hartley?"

"Oh, I should say so, of course!" the other drawled. "The title would not be of much use, without them."

"Nonsense, my dear fellow!" another said. "Why, a fellow with your personal advantage, and a title, would be able to command the American market, and to pick up an heiress with millions."

The general laugh that followed showed that Hartley was, by no means, a popular character in the regiment.

"The fellow is a consummate ass," the man on Gregory's left whispered. "He only got into the service as a Queen's cadet. He could no more have got in, by marks, than he could have flown. No one believes that he had anything the matter with him, at Cairo; but he preferred stopping behind and coming up by himself, without any duties, to taking any share in the work. He is always talking about his earldom–that is why the Major mentioned it, so as to draw him out."

"But I suppose he is really heir to it?"

"Yes, if no one else claims it. For aught that is known, there may be half a dozen children of the man that is missing, knocking about somewhere in Canada or Australia. If so, they are safe to turn up, sooner or later. You see, as the man had an elder brother, he would not have counted at all upon coming to the title. He may be in some out-of-the-way place, where even a colonial newspaper would never reach him; but, sooner or later, he or some of his sons will be coming home, and will hear of the last earl's death, and then this fellow's nose will be put out of joint.

"I am sure everyone in the regiment would be glad, for he is an insufferable ass. I suppose, when he comes into the title, he will either cut the army altogether, or exchange into the Guards."

The party presently broke up, having finished the last bottle of wine they had brought up. Gregory remained seated by the Major, discussing the chances of the campaign, and the points where resistance might be expected. The other officers stood talking, a short distance off. Presently Gregory caught the words:

"How is it that this young fellow calls himself Bimbashi, which, I believe, means major?"

"He does not call himself that, although that is his rank. All the white officers in the Egyptian Army have that rank, though they may only be lieutenants, in ours."

"I call it a monstrous thing," the drawling voice then said, "that a young fellow like this, who seems to be an Egyptian by birth, should have a higher rank than men here, who have served fifteen or twenty years."

The Major got up, and walked across to the group.

"I will tell you why, Mr. Hartley," he said, in a loud voice. "It is because, for the purpose of the war in this country, they know infinitely more than the officers of our army. They talk the languages, they know the men. These blacks will follow them anywhere, to the death. As for Mr. Hilliard, he has performed feats that any officer in the army, whatever his rank, would be proud to have done. He went in disguise into the Dervish camp at Metemmeh, before Hunter's advance began, and obtained invaluable information. He jumped overboard from a gunboat to save a drowning Dervish woman, although to do so involved almost certain capture and death at the hands of the Dervishes. In point of fact, his escape was a remarkable one, for he was tied to a tree in the first line of the Dervish defences at Atbara, and was only saved by what was almost a miracle. He may not be heir to an earldom, Mr. Hartley, but he would do more credit to the title than many I could name. I hear him well spoken of, by everyone, as an indefatigable worker, and as having performed the most valuable services. Captain Keppel, on whose gunboat he served for two or three months, spoke to me of him in the highest terms; and General Hunter has done the same.

"I fancy, sir, that it will be some years before you are likely to distinguish yourself so highly. His father was an officer, who fell in battle; and if he happened to be born in Egypt, as you sneeringly said just now, all I can say is that, in my opinion, had you been born in Egypt, you would not occupy the position which he now does."

Gregory had walked away when the Major rose, and he did not return to the party. It was the first time that he had run across a bad specimen of the British officer, and his words had stung him. But, as he said to himself, he need not mind them, as the fellow's own comrades regarded him, as one of them said, as "an insufferable ass." Still, he could not help wishing, to himself, that the missing heir might turn up in time to disappoint him.

General Hunter started next day, at noon, with two of his brigades and the mounted troops; the other two brigades following, at nightfall. The previous night had been one of the most unpleasant Gregory had ever spent. The long-expected rain had come at last. It began suddenly; there was a flash of lightning, and then came a violent burst of wind, which tore down the tents and the flimsy shelters of the Egyptians and Soudanese. Before this had ceased, the rain poured down in a torrent; lightning, wind, and rain kept on till morning, and when the start was made, everyone was soaked to the skin. The Egyptian baggage left at the same time, in native craft.

That evening they arrived at the mouth of the Shabluka Cataract. Here it had been expected that the advance would be opposed, as strong forts had been erected by the enemy, the river narrowed greatly, and precipitous rocks rose on either side. Through these the course was winding, and the current ran with great strength, the eddies and sharp bends making it extremely difficult for the gunboats to keep their course. Indeed, it would have been impossible for them to get up, had the forts been manned; as they would have had to pass within two hundred yards of the guns. But although the forts could hardly have been attacked by the gunboats, they were commanded by a lofty hill behind them; and the scouts had discovered, some weeks before, that the Dervishes had retired from the position, and that the passage would be unopposed.

Maxwell's and Colville's brigades started at four that afternoon, and the next day the whole division was established at El Hejir, above the cataracts.

Lyttleton's brigade started, at five o'clock A.M. on the 25th, the gunboats and other steamers moving parallel with them along the river. At five in the afternoon the first brigade followed and, two days afterwards, the camp was entirely evacuated, and the whole of the stores well on their way towards El Hejir. On the previous day, two regiments of Wortley's column of friendly natives also marched south. The Sirdar and headquarters, after having seen everything off, went up in a gunboat, starting at nine in the morning.

As usual, the Soudanese troops had been accompanied by a considerable number of their wives, who were heavily laden with their little household goods, and in many cases babies. They trudged patiently along in the rear of the columns, and formed an encampment of their own, half a mile away from the men's, generally selecting a piece of ground surrounded by thick bush, into which they could escape, should Dervish raiders come down upon them.

The stores arrived in due course. One of the gunboats, however, was missing–the Zafir, with three gyasses in tow, having suddenly sunk, ten miles north of Shendy, owing to being so deeply loaded that the water got into the hold. Those on board had just time to scramble into the boats, or swim to shore. No lives were lost, though there were many narrow escapes. Among these were Commander Keppel and Prince Christian Victor, who were on board. Fortunately, another steamer soon came along and took the gyasses, with the ship-wrecked officers and crew on board, and towed them up to El Hejir.

It had been intended to stay here some little time, but the Nile continued to rise to an altogether exceptional height, and part of the camp was flooded. At five o'clock, therefore, the Egyptian brigades started, with the guns on their right and the steamers covering their left, while the cavalry and camel corps were spread widely out, in advance to give notice of any approaching Dervish force. As usual the soldiers' wives turned out, and as the battalions marched past, shouted encouragement to their husbands; calling upon them to behave like men, and not to turn back in battle. The presence of the women had an excellent effect on the soldiers, and in addition to their assistance in carrying their effects, they cooked their rations, and looked after them generally. The Sirdar, therefore, did not discourage their presence in the field, and even supplied them with rations, when it was impossible for them to obtain them elsewhere.

In the afternoon the two white brigades also moved forward. At nine o'clock they arrived at their camping ground, and the whole army was again collected together. Next morning the four squadrons of Egyptian horse, with a portion of the cavalry, went forward to reconnoitre, and one of the gunboats proceeded a few miles up the river. Neither saw anything of the enemy.

There had been heavy rain during the night. This had ceased at daybreak, and a strong wind speedily dried the sands, raising such clouds of dust that it was difficult to see above a few yards. The storm had also the effect of hindering the flotilla.