 Chapter 15 Part 2 of The River-War The crest of the ridge was only half a mile away. It was found unoccupied. The rocky mass of Sergum obstructed the view and concealed the great reserve collected around the black flag. But southward, between us and Omderman, the whole plain was exposed. It was infested with small parties of dervishes, moving about, mounted and on foot, in tens and twenties. Three miles away a broad stream of fugitives, of wounded, and of deserters flowed from the caliph's army to the city. The mirages blurred and distorted the picture, so that some of the routed Arabs walked in air and some through water, and all were misty and unreal. But the sight was sufficient to excite the fiercest instincts of cavalry. Only the scattered parties in the plain appeared to prevent a glorious pursuit. The signalling officer was set to heliograph back to the Serdar that the ridge was unoccupied and that several thousand dervishes could be seen flying into Omderman. Pending the answer, we waited, and looking back northwards across the front of the Zareba, where the first attack had been stopped, perceived a grayish white smudge perhaps a mile long. The glass disclosed details, hundreds of tiny white figures heaped or scattered, dozens hopping, crawling, staggering away, a few horses standing stolidly among the corpses, a few unwounded men dragging off their comrades. The skirmishers among the rocks of Sergum soon began to fire at the regiment, and we sheltered among the mounds of sand, while a couple of troops replied with their carbines. Then the heliograph and the Zareba began to talk in flashes of light that opened and shut capriciously. The actual order is important. Advance, said the helio, and clear the left flank and use every effort to prevent the enemy re-entering Omderman. That was all, but it was sufficient. In the distance the enemy could be seen re-entering Omderman in hundreds. There was no room for doubt, they must be stopped, and incidentally these small parties in the plains might be brushed away. We remounted. The ground looked smooth and unbroken, yet it was desirable to reconnoitre. Two patrols were sent out. The small parties of dervishes who were scattered all over the plain and the slopes of the hill prevented anything less than a squadron moving except at their peril. The first patrol struck out towards Omderman and began to push in between the scattered dervishes who fired their rifles and showed great excitement. The other patrol, under Lieutenant Grenfell, was sent to see what the ground looked like from further along the ridge and on the lower slopes of Sergum. The riflemen among the rocks turned their fire from the regiment to these nearer objects. The five brown figures cantered over the rough ground presenting difficult targets but under continual fire and disappeared round the spur. However, in two or three minutes they reappeared, the riflemen on the hill making a regular rattle of musketry, amid which the lancers galloped safely back, followed last of all by their officer. He said that the plain looked as safe from the other side of the hill as from where we were. At this moment the other patrol returned. They too had had good fortune in their adventurous ride. Their information was exact. They reported that in a shallow and apparently practicable core about three-quarters of a mile to the southwest and between the regiment and the fugitives there was drawn up a deformed body of dervishes about one thousand strong. Colonel Martin decided on this information to advance and attack this force, which alone it her posed between him and the Arab line of retreat. Then we started. But all this time the enemy had been busy. At the beginning of the battle the califa had posted a small force of seven hundred men on his extreme right to prevent his line of retreat to Omderman being harassed. This detachment was composed entirely of the Hadendoa tribesmen of Osman Dignas flag and was commanded by one of his subordinate Amirs, who selected a suitable position in the shallow core. As soon as the twenty-first Lancers left the Zareba, the dervish scouts on the top of Sergum carried the news to the califa. It was said that the English cavalry were coming to cut him off from Omderman. Abdullah thereupon determined to strengthen his extreme right, and he immediately ordered four regiments, each five hundred strong, drawn from the force around the black flag and under the Amir Ibrahim Khalil, to reinforce the Hadendoa in the core. While we were waiting for orders on the ridge these men were hurrying southwards along the Depression and concealed by a spur of Sergum Hill. The Lancer patrol reconnoitred the core at the imminent risk of their lives, while it was only occupied by the original seven hundred Hadendoa. Galloping back they reported that it was held by about one thousand men. Before they reached the regiment this number was increased to two thousand seven hundred. This, however, we had no means of knowing. The califa, having dispatched his reinforcement, rode on his donkey with a scanty escort nearly half a mile from the black flag towards the core, in order to watch the event, and in consequence he was within five hundred yards of the scene. As the twenty-first Lancers left the ridge the fire of the Arab Riflemen on the hill ceased. We advanced at a walk in mass for about three hundred yards. The scattered parties of dervishes fell back and melted away, and only one straggling line of men in dark blue waited motionless a quarter of a mile to the left front. They were scarcely a hundred strong. The regiment formed into line of squadron columns, and continued at a walk until within three hundred yards of this small body of dervishes. The firing behind the ridges had stopped. There was complete silence, intensified by the recent tumult. Far beyond the thin blue row of dervishes the fugitives were visible streaming into Omderman. And should these few devoted men impede a regiment? Yet it were wiser to examine their position from the other flank before slipping a squadron at them. The heads of the squadrons wheeled slowly to the left, and the Lancers, breaking into a trot, began to cross the dervish front in column of troops. Thereupon and with one accord the blue-clad men dropped on their knees and their burst out a loud crackling fire of musketry. It was hardly possible to miss such a target at such a range. Horses and men fell at once. The only course was plain and welcome to all. The Colonel, nearer than his regiment, already saw what lay behind the skirmishers. He ordered, right wheel into line, to be sounded. The trumpet jerked out a shrill note, heard faintly above the trampling of the horses and the noise of the rifles. On the instant all the sixteen troops swung round and locked up into a long galloping line, and the twenty-first Lancers were committed to their first charge in war. Two hundred and fifty yards away the dark blue men were firing madly in a thin film of light blue smoke. Their bullets struck the hard gravel into the air, and the troopers to shield their faces from the stinging dust, bowed their helmets forward like the cura seers at Waterloo. The pace was fast and the distance short, yet before it was half covered the whole aspect of the affair changed. A deep crease in the ground, a dry water course, a core, appeared where all had seemed smooth level plain, and from it there sprang, with a suddenness of a panemime effect and a high-pitched yell, a dense white mass of men nearly as long as our front and about twelve deep. A score of horsemen and a dozen bright flags rose as if by magic from the earth. Eager warriors sprang forward to anticipate the shock. The rest stood firm to meet it. The Lancers acknowledged the apparition only by an increase of pace. Each man wanted sufficient momentum to drive through such a solid line. The flank troops, seeing that they overlapped, curved inwards like the horns of a moon. But the whole event was a matter of seconds. The riflemen, firing bravely to the last, were swept head over heels into the core, and jumping down with them at full gallop and in the closest order, the British squadron struck the fierce brigade with one loud furious shout. The collision was prodigious. Nearly thirty Lancers, men and horses, and at least two hundred Arabs were overthrown. The shock was stunning to both sides, and for perhaps ten wonderful seconds no man heeded his enemy. Terrified horses wedged in the crowd, bruised and shaken men, sprawling in heaps, struggled, dazed and stupid, to their feet, panted, and looked about them. Several fallen Lancers had even time to remount. Meanwhile the impetus of the cavalry carried them on. As a rider tears through a bullfinch, the officers forced their way through the press, and as an iron rake might be drawn through a heap of shingle, so the regiment followed. They shattered the dervish array, and their pace reduced to a walk scrambled out of the core on the further side, leaving a score of troopers behind them, and dragging on with the charge more than a thousand Arabs. Then and not till then the killing began, and thereafter each man saw the world along his lance, under his guard, or through the backside of his pistol, and each had his own strange tale to tell. Stubborn and unshaken infantry hardly ever meet Stubborn and unshaking cavalry. After the infantry run away and are cut down in flight, or they keep their heads and destroy nearly all the horsemen by their musketry. On this occasion two living walls had actually crashed together. The dervishes fought manfully. They tried to hamstring the horses. They fired their rifles, pressing the muzzles into the very bodies of their opponents. They cut reins and stirrup leathers. They flung their throwing spears with great dexterity. They tried every device of cool, determined men, practiced in war and familiar with cavalry. And besides, they swung sharp, heavy swords which bit deep. The hand to hand fighting on the further side of the core lasted for perhaps one minute. Then the horses got into their stride again, the pace increased, and the lancers drew out from among their antagonists. Within two minutes of the collision every living man was clear of the dervish mass. All who had fallen were cut at with swords till they stopped quivering. But no artistic mutilations were attempted. Two hundred yards away the regiment halted, rallied, faced about, and in less than five minutes were reformed and ready for a second charge. The men were anxious to cut their way back through their enemies. We were alone together, the cavalry regiment and the dervish brigade. The ridge hung like a curtain between us and the army. The general battle was forgotten, as it was unseen. This was a private quarrel. The other might have been a massacre, but here the fight was fair, for we too fought with sword and spear. Indeed the advantage of ground and numbers lay with them. All prepared to settle the debate at once and for ever. But some realization of the cost of our wild ride began to come to those who were responsible. Rider-less horses galloped across the plain. Men, clinging to their saddles, lurched helplessly about, covered with blood from perhaps a dozen wounds. Horses, streaming from tremendous gashes, limped and staggered with their riders. In one hundred and twenty seconds five officers, sixty-five men, and one hundred nineteen horses, out of fewer than four hundred, had been killed or wounded. The dervish line, broken by the charge, began to reform at once. They closed up, shook themselves together, and prepared with constancy and courage for another shock. But on military considerations it was desirable to turn them out of the core first, and thus deprive them of their vantage ground. The regiment again drawn up, three squadrons in line and the fourth in column, now wheeled to the right, and galloping round the dervish flank, dismounted and opened a heavy fire with their magazine carbines. Under the pressure of this fire the enemy changed front to meet the new attack, so that both sides were formed at right angles to their original lines. When the dervish change of front was completed they began to advance against the dismounted men, but the fire was accurate, and there could be little doubt that the moral effect of the charge had been very great, and that these brave enemies were no longer unshaken. Be this as it may, the fact remains that they retreated swiftly, though in good order, towards the ridge of Sergum Hill, where the Caliph's black flag still waved, and the twenty-first Lancers remained in possession of the ground and of their dead. Such is the true and literal account of the charge, but the reader may care to consider a few incidents. Colonel Martin, busy with the direction of his regiment, drew neither sword nor revolver and rode through the press unarmed and uninjured. Major Kroll Windham had his horse shot under him by a dervish who pressed the muzzle of his rifle into its hide before firing. From out of the middle of that savage crowd the officer fought his way on foot and escaped in safety. Lieutenant Mollinur fell in the core into the midst of the enemy. In the confusion he disentangled himself from his horse, drew his revolver, and jumped out of the hollow before the dervishes recovered from the impact of the charge. Then they attacked him. He fired at the nearest, and at the moment of firing was slashed across the right wrist by another. The pistol fell from his nervous hand, and being wounded, dismounted and disarmed, he turned in the hopes of regaining, by following the line of the charge, his squadron, which was just getting clear. Hard upon his track came the enemy, eager to make an end. Beset on all sides and thus hotly pursued, the wounded officer perceived a single lancer riding across his path. He called on him for help. Whereupon the trooper, Private Byrne, though already severely wounded by a bullet which had penetrated his right arm, replied without a moment's hesitation, and in a cheery voice, All right, sir! and turning rode at four dervishes who were about to kill his officer. His wound, which had partly paralyzed his arm, prevented him from grasping his sword, and at the first ineffectual blow it fell from his hand, and he received another wound from a spear in the chest. But his solitary charge had checked the pursuing dervishes. Lieutenant Mollinur regained his squadron alive, and the trooper, seeing that his object was attained, galloped away, reeling in his saddle. Arrived at his troop, his desperate condition was noticed, and he was told to fall out. But this he refused to do, urging that he was entitled to remain on duty and have another go at them. At length he was compelled to leave the field, feigning from loss of blood. Lieutenant Neshim had an even more extraordinary escape than Mollinur. He had scrambled out of the corps when, as his horse was nearly stopping, an Arab seized his bridle. He struck at the man with his sword, but did not prevent him cutting his off-rain. The officer's bridle hand, unexpectedly released, flew out, and as it did so a swordsman at a single stroke nearly severed it from his body. Then they cut at him from all sides. One blow sheared through his helmet and grazed his head. Another inflicted a deep wound in his right leg. A third, intercepted by his shoulder chains, paralyzed his right arm. Two more, missing him narrowly, cut right through the cantile of the saddle and into the horse's back. The wounded subaltern, he was the youngest of all, reeled. A man on either side seized his legs to pull him to the ground, but the long spurs stuck into the horse's flanks, and the maddened animal throwing up its head and springing forward broke away from the crowd of foes and carried the rider, bleeding, fainting, but still alive, to safety among the rallying squadrons. Lieutenant Neshim's experience was that of the men who were killed, only that he escaped to describe it. The wounded were sent with a small escort towards the river and hospitals. An officer was dispatched with the news to the Sardar, and on the instant both cannonade and fuselade broke out again behind the ridge, and grew in a crashing crescendo until the whole landscape seemed to vibrate with the sound of explosions. The second phase of the battle had begun. Even before the twenty-first Lancers had reconnoitred Sergum Ridge, the Sardar had set his brigades in motion towards Anderman. He was determined, even at a very great risk, to occupy the city while it was empty and before the army in the plain could return to defend it. The advantage might be tremendous. Nevertheless the movement was premature. The Caliph still remained undefeated west of Sergum Hill. Ali Wad-Helu lurked behind Carrere. Osman was rapidly reforming. There were still at least thirty-five thousand men on the field. Nor, as the event proved, was it possible to enter Anderman until they had been beaten. As soon as the infantry had replenished their ammunition, they wheeled to the left in echelon of brigades and began to march towards Sergum Ridge. The movements of a great force are slow. It was not desirable that the British Division, which led the echelon, should remain in the low ground north of Sergum, where they were commanded, had no field of fire and could see nothing, and accordingly both these brigades moved forward almost together to occupy the crest of the ridge. Thus two steps of the latter were run into one, and Maxwell's brigade, which followed watch-opes, was six hundred yards further south than it would have been had the regular echelon been observed. In the Zareba McDonald had been next to Maxwell, but a very significant change in the order was now made. General Hunter evidently conceived the rear of the echelon threatened from the direction of Correre. Had the earth swallowed all the thousands who had moved across the plain towards the hills? At any rate he would have his best brigade and his most experienced general in the post of possible danger. He therefore ordered Lewis's brigade to follow Maxwell, and left McDonald last of all, strengthening him with three batteries of artillery and eight maximum guns. Collinson marched with the transport. McDonald moved out westward into the desert to take his place in the echelon, and also to allow Lewis to pass him as ordered. Lewis hurried on after Maxwell, and taking his distance from him, was thus also six hundred yards further south than the regular echelon admitted. The step which had been absorbed when both British brigades moved off, advisedly, together, caused a double gap between McDonald and the rest of the army, and this distance was further increased by the fact that while he was moving west, to assume his place in correct echelon, the other five brigades were drawing off to the southward, hence McDonald's isolation. At nine-fifteen the whole army was marching south in echelon, with the rear brigade it rather more than double distance. Collinson had already started with the transport, but the field hospitals still remained in the deserted Zareba, busily packing up. The medical staff had about one hundred fifty wounded on their hands. The Serdar's orders had been that these were to be placed on the hospital barges, and that the field hospitals were to follow the transport. But the moving of wounded men is a painful and delicate affair, and by a stupid and grievous mistake, the three regular hospital barges, duly prepared for the reception of the wounded, had been towed across to the right bank. It was necessary to use three ammunition barges, which, although in no way arranged for the reception of wounded, were luckily at hand. Meanwhile time was passing, and the doctors, who worked with devoted energy, became suddenly aware that, with the exception of a few detachments from the British division and three Egyptian companies, there were no troops within half a mile, and none between them and the dark, currary hills. The two gun-boats which could have guarded them from the river were downstream, helping the cavalry. McDonald with the rear brigade was out in the plain. Collinson was hurring along the bank with his transport. They were alone and unprotected. The army and the river together formed a huge V, pointing south. The northern extremity, the gorge of the redan, as it were, gaped open towards currary, and from currary there now began to come, like the first warning drops before a storm of rain, small, straggling parties of dervish cavalry. The interior of the V was soon actually invaded by these predatory patrols, and one troop of perhaps a score of Bagara horse watered their ponies within three hundred yards of the unprotected hospitals. Behind in the distance the banners of an army began to reappear. The situation was alarming. The wounded were bundled on to the barges, although, since there was no steamer to tow them, they were scarcely any safer when embarked. While some of the medical officers were thus busied, Colonel Slaget galloped off, and running the gauntlet of the Bagara horsemen, carried to claim protection for the hospitals and their helpless occupants. In the midst of this excitement and confusion the wounded from the cavalry charge began to trickle in. When the British division had moved out of the Zeriba, a few skirmishes along the crags of Sergum Hill alone suggested the presence of an enemy. Each brigade formed in four parallel columns of root which closed in until they were scarcely forty paces apart, and both at deploying interval, the second brigade nearer the river, the first almost in line with it and on its right, hurried on, eager to see what lay beyond the ridge. All was quiet, except for a few sniping shots from the top of Sergum. But gradually as Maxwell's brigade, the third in the echelon, approached the hill, these shots became more numerous, until the summit of the peak was spotted with smoke-puffs. The British division moved on steadily, and, leaving these bold skirmishers to the Sudanese, soon reached the crest of the ridge. At once, and for the first time the whole panorama of Omderman, the brown and battered dome of the Madi's tomb, the multitude of mud-houses, the glittering fork of water which marked the confluence of the rivers, burst on their vision. For a moment they stared entranced. Then their attention was distracted, for trotting, galloping, or halting and gazing stupidly about them, terrified and bewildered, a dozen riderless troop-horses appeared over the further crest, for the ridge was flat-topped, coming from the plain as yet invisible below. It was the first news of the Lancer's charge. Details soon followed in the shape of the wounded, who in twos and threes began to make their way between the battalions, all covered with blood and many displaying most terrible injuries, faces cut to rags, bowels protruding, fish-hook spears still stuck in their bodies, realistic pictures from the darker side of war. Thus absorbed, the soldiers hardly noticed the growing musketry fire from the peak, but suddenly the bang of a field-gun set all eyes looking backward. A battery had unlimbered in the plain between the Zareba and the ridge, and was beginning to shell the summit of the hill. The report of the guns seemed to be the signal for the whole battle to re-open. From far away to the right rear they came the sound of loud and continuous infantry firing, and immediately Gadhaker halted his division. Almost before the British had topped their crest of the ridge, before the battery had opened from the plain, while Colonel Slaget was still spurring across the dangerous ground between the river and the army, the Serdar knew that his enemy was again upon him. Looking back from the slopes of Sergum, he saw that McDonald, instead of continuing his march in Eshalon, had halted and deployed. The veteran Brigadier had seen the dervish formations on the ridge to the west of Sergum, realized that he was about to be attacked, and, resolving to anticipate the enemy, immediately brought his three batteries into action at twelve hundred yards. Five minutes later the whole of the Caliph's reserve, fifteen thousand strong, led by Jacob with a black flag, the bodyguard and all the glories of the dervish empire surged into view from behind the hill, and advanced on the solitary brigade with the vigor of the first attack, and thriced its chances of success. The Mariponser Herbert Kitchener ordered Maxwell to change front to the right, and storm Sergum Hill. He sent Major Sandback to tell Louis to conform and come into line on Maxwell's right. He galloped himself to the British division, conveniently halted by General Gadacre on the northern crest of the ridge, and ordered Littleton with the second brigade to form facing west on Maxwell's left, south of Sergum, and watch hope with the first brigade to hurry back to fill the wide gap between Louis and Macdonald. Last of all he sent an officer to Collinson and the Camel Corps, with orders that they should swing round to their right rear, and close the open part of the V. By these movements the army, instead of facing south in Echelon, with its left on the river and its right in the desert, was made to face west in line, with its left in the desert and its right reaching back to the river. It had turned nearly a complete somersault. In obedience to these orders Littleton's brigade brought up their left shoulders, deployed into line, and advanced west. Maxwell's pseudonies scrambled up the Sergum rocks, and in spite of a sharp fire cleared the peak with a bayonet, and pressed on down the further side. Louis began to come into action on Maxwell's right. Macdonald, against whom the Khalifa's attack was at first entirely directed, remained facing south-west, and was soon shrouded in the smoke of his own musketry and artillery fire. The three brigades which were now moving west and away from the Nile, attacked the right flank of the dervishes, assailing Macdonald, and, compelling them to form front towards the river, undoubtedly took much of the weight of the attack off the isolated brigade. They remained the gap between Louis and Macdonald, but Wachope's brigade, now in four parallel columns of root, had shouldered completely round to the north, and was now doubling swiftly across the plain to fill the unguarded space. With the exception of Wachope's brigade and of Collinson's Egyptians the whole infantry and artillery force were at once furiously engaged. The firing became again tremendous, and the sound was even louder than during the attack on the Zareba. As each fresh battalion was brought into line, the tumult steadily increased. The three leading brigades continued to advance westward in one long line, looped up over Sergum Hill, and with the right battalion held back in column. As the forces gradually drew nearer, the possibility of the dervishes penetrating the gap between Louis and Macdonald presented itself, and the flank battalion was wheeled into line so as to protect the right flank. The aspect of the dervish attack was at this moment most formidable. Enormous masses of men were hurrying towards the smoke clouds that almost hid Macdonald. Other masses turned to meet the attack which was developing on their right. Within the angle formed by the three brigades facing west and Macdonald facing nearly south, a great army of not fewer than fifteen thousand men was enclosed, like a flock of sheep and a fold, by the thin brown lines of the British and Egyptian brigades. As the seventh Egyptians, the right battalion of Louis's brigade and nearest the gap between that unit and Macdonald, deployed to protect the flank, they became unsteady, began to bunch in waver, and actually made several retrograde movements. There was a moment of danger. But General Hunter, who was on the spot, himself ordered the two reserve companies of the fifteenth Egyptians under Major Hickman to march up behind them with fixed bayonets. Their morale was thus restored and the peril averted. The advance of the three brigades continued. Yakub found himself utterly unable to withstand the attack from the river. His own attack on Macdonald languished. The musketry was producing terrible losses in his crowded ranks. The valiant Wad Bishara and many other less famous amiers fell dead. Gradually he began to give ground. It was evident that the civilized troops were the stronger. But even before the attack was repulsed, the Caliphah, who watched from a close position, must have known that the day was lost. For when he launched Yakub at Macdonald it was clear that the only chance of success depended on Ali Wad Helu and Osman Sheikh Ed Din, attacking at the same side from Kerrari. And with bitter rage and mortification he perceived that, although the banners were now gathering under the Kerrari hills, Ali and Osman were too late, and the attacks which should have been simultaneous would only be consecutive. The effect of Brodwood's cavalry action upon the extreme right was now becoming apparent. Regrets and fury were alike futile. The three brigades advancing drove the Caliphah's dervishes back into the desert. Along a mile of front an intense and destructive fire flared and crackled. The thirty-second British field battery on the extreme left was drawn by its hearty mules at full gallop into action. The maximum guns pulsated feverishly. Two were even dragged by the enterprise of a subaltern to the very summit of Sergum, and from this elevated position intervened with bloody effect. Thus the long line moved forward in irresistible strength. In the center, under the red Egyptian flag, careless of the bullets which that conspicuous emblem drew, and which inflicted some loss among those around him, rode the Serdar, stern and sullen, equally unmoved by fear or enthusiasm. A mile away to the rear the gun boats irritated that the fight was passing beyond their reach, steamed restlessly up and down, like caged polar bears seeking what they might devour. Before that terrible line the Caliphah's division began to break up. The whole ground was strewn with dead and wounded, among whose bodies the soldiers picked their steps with the customary Sudan precautions. Surviving thousands struggled away towards Anderman, and swelled the broad stream of fugitives upon whose flank the twenty-first Lancers already hung vengefully. Yakub and the defenders of the black flag disdained to fly, and perished where they stood, beneath the holy ensign, so that when their conquerors reached the spot the dark folds of the banner waved only over the dead. While all this was taking place, for events were moving at speed, the first British brigade was still doubling across the rear of Maxwell and Lewis to fill the gap between the latter and MacDonald. As they had wheeled round the regiments gained on each other according to their proximity to the pivot flank. The brigade assumed a formation which may be described as an echelon of columns of root, with the Lincolns, who were actually the pivot regiment, leading. By the time that the right of Lewis's brigade was reached and the British had begun to deploy, it was evident that the Caliphah's attack was broken and that his force was in full retreat. In the rear foreground the Arab dead lay thick. Crowds of fugitives were trooping off in the regiments. The black flag alone waved defiantly over the corpses of its defenders. In the front of the brigade the fight was over, but those who looked away to the right saw a different spectacle. What appeared to be an entirely new army was coming down from the curary hills. While the soldiers looked and wondered fresh orders arrived. A mounted officer galloped up. There was a report that terrible events were happening in the dust and smoke to the northward. The spearmen had closed with MacDonald's brigade, were crumpling his line from the flank, had already broken it. Such were the rumors. The orders were more precise. The nearest regiment, the Lincolnsure, was to hurry to MacDonald's threatened flank to meet the attack. The rest of the brigade was to change front half right and remain in support. The Lincolnsures, breathless buddy-lated, forthwith started off again at the double. They began to traverse the rear of MacDonald's brigade, only dimly conscious of rapid movements by its battalions, and to the sound of tremendous independent firing, which did not, however, prevent them from hearing the venomous hiss of bullets. Had the Caliph's attack been simultaneous with that which was now developed, the position of MacDonald's brigade must have been almost hopeless. In the actual event it was one of extreme peril. The attack in his front was weakening every minute, but the far more formidable attack on his right rear grew stronger and nearer in inverse ratio. Both attacks must be met. The moment was critical, the danger near. All depended on MacDonald, and that officer, who by valor and conduct in war had won his way from the rank of a private soldier to the command of a brigade, and will doubtless obtain still higher employment, was equal to the emergency. To meet the Caliph's attack he had arranged his force facing southwest, with three battalions in line and the fourth held back in a column of companies in rear of the right flank, an inverted L-shaped formation. As the attack from the southwest gradually weakened and the attack from the northwest continually increased he broke off his battalions and batteries from the longer side of the L and transferred them to the shorter. He timed these movements so accurately that each face of his brigade was able to exactly sustain the attacks of the enemy. As soon as the Caliph's force began to waver he ordered the eleventh Sudanese and a battery on his left to move across the angle to which the brigade was formed and deploy along the shorter face to meet the impending onslaught of Ali-Wad-Halu. Perceiving this, the ninth Sudanese, who were the regiment in column on the right of the original front, wheeled to the right from column in to line without waiting for orders, so the two battalions faced towards the Caliph and two towards the fresh attack. By this time it was clear that the Caliph was practically repulsed, and MacDonald ordered the tenth Sudanese and another battery to change front and prolong the line of the ninth and eleventh. He then moved the second Egyptians diagonally to their right front, so as to close the gap at the angle between their line and that of the three other battalions. These difficult maneuvers were carried out under a heavy fire, which in twenty minutes caused over one hundred twenty casualties in the four battalions, exclusive of the losses in the artillery batteries, and in the face of the determined attacks of an enemy who outnumber the troops by seven to one, and had only to close with them to be victorious. Amid the roar of the firing and the dust, smoke, and confusion of the change of front, the general found time to summon the officers of the ninth Sudanese around him, rebuking them for having wheeled in deline in anticipation of his order, and requested them to drill more steadily in brigade. The three Sudanese battalions were now confronted with the whole fury of the dervish attack from Kerrari. The bravery of the blacks was no less conspicuous than the wildness of their musketry. They eventched an extraordinary excitement, firing their rifles without any attempt to sight or aim, and only anxious to pull the trigger, reload, and pull it again. In vain the British officers strove to calm their impulsive soldiers. In vain they called upon them by name, or taking their rifles from them, adjusted the sights themselves. The independent firing was utterly beyond control. Soon the ammunition began to be exhausted, and the soldiers turned round, clamouring for more cartridges, which their officers doled out to them by twos and threes in the hopes of steadying them. It was useless. They fired them all off and clamoured for more. Meanwhile, although suffering fearfully from the close and accurate fire of the three artillery batteries and eight maxim guns, and to a less extent from the random firing of the Sudanese, the dervishes drew nearer in thousands, and it seemed certain that there would be an actual collision. The valiant blacks prepared themselves with delight to meet the shock, notwithstanding the overwhelming numbers of the enemy. Scarcely three rounds per man remained throughout the brigade. The batteries opened a rapid fire of case-shot. Still the dervishes advanced, and the survivors of their first wave of assault were scarcely one hundred yards away. Behind them both green flags pressed forward over enormous masses of armed humanity, rolling on as they now believed to victory. At this moment the Lincoln Regiment began to come up. As soon as the leading company cleared the right of McDonald's Brigade, they formed line and opened an independent fire obliquely across the front of the Sudanese. Groups of dervishes in twos and threes were then within one hundred yards. The great masses were within three hundred yards. The independent firing lasted two minutes, during which the whole regiment deployed. Its effect was to clear away the leading groups of Arabs. The deployment, having been accomplished with the loss of a dozen men, including Colonel Slogot, who fell shot through the breast while attending to the wounded, section volleys were ordered. With excellent discipline the independent firing was instantly stopped, and the battalion began with machine light regularity to carry out the principles of modern musketry, for which their training had efficiently prepared them, and their rifles were admirably suited. They fired on an average sixty rounds per man, and finally repulsed the attack. The dervishes were weak in cavalry, and had scarcely two thousand horsemen on the field. About four hundred of these, mostly the personal retainers of the various Amirs, were formed into an irregular regiment and attached to the flag of Ali-Wad-Helu. Now when these horsemen perceived that there was no more hope of victory, they arranged themselves in a solid mass and charged the left of McDonald's Brigade. The distance was about five hundred yards, and, while this was the firing of the Sudanese, it was evident that they could not possibly succeed. Nevertheless, many carrying no weapon in their hands, and all urging their horses to their utmost speed, they rode unflinchingly to certain death. All were killed and fell as they entered the zone of fire. Three, twenty, fifty, two hundred, sixty, thirty, five and one out beyond them all, a brown smear across the sandy plain. A few riderless horses alone broke through the ranks of the infantry. After the failure of the attack from Qurrari, the whole Anglo-Egyptian army advanced westward in a line of bayonets and artillery nearly two miles long, and drove the dervishes before them into the desert, so that they could by no means rally or reform. The Egyptian cavalry, who had returned along the river, formed line on the right of the infantry in readiness to pursue. At half-past eleven Sir H. Kitchner shut up his glasses, and remarking that he thought the enemy had been given a good dusting, gave the order for the brigades to resume their interrupted march on Amderman. A movement which was possible, now that the forces in the plain were beaten. The brigadiers thereupon stopped the firing, massed their commands in convenient formations, and turned again towards the south and the city. The Lincolnshire regiment remained detached as a rear guard. Meanwhile, the great dervish army, who had advanced at sunrise in hope and courage, fled in utter rout, pursued by the Egyptian cavalry, harried by the twenty-first Lancers, and leaving more than nine thousand warriors dead, and even greater numbers wounded behind them. Thus ended the Battle of Amderman, the most signal triumph ever gained by the arms of science over barbarians. Within the space of five hours the strongest and best-armed savage army yet arrayed against a modern European power have been destroyed and dispersed, with hardly any difficulty, comparatively small risk, and insignificant loss to the victors. CHAPTER XVI Now when the Caliph Abdullah saw that the last army that remained to him was broken, that all his attacks had failed, and that thousands of his bravest warriors were slain, he rode from the field of battle in haste, and, regaining the city, proceeded like a brave and stubborn soldier to make preparations for its defence, and, like a prudent man, to arrange for his own flight should further resistance be impossible. He ordered his great war drum to be beaten and the amya to be blown, and for the last time those dismal notes boomed through the streets of Amderman. They were not heeded. The Arabs had had enough fighting. They recognized that all was lost. Besides, to return to the city was difficult and dangerous. The charge of the 21st Lancers had been costly, but it was not ineffective. The consequent retirement of the Derbysh Brigade protecting the extreme right exposed their line of retreat. The cavalry were resolved to take full advantage of the position they had paid so much to gain, and while the second attack was at its height we were already trotting over the plain towards the long lines of fugitives who streamed across it. With the experience of the past hour in our minds and with the great numbers of the enemy in our front, it seemed to many that a bloody day lay before us, but we had not gone far when individual derbyshes began to walk towards the advancing squadrons throwing down their weapons, holding up their hands, and imploring mercy. As soon as it was apparent that the surrender of individuals was accepted, the derbyshes began to come in and lay down their arms, at first by twos and threes, then by dozens and finally by scores. Meanwhile those who were still intent on flight made a wide detour to avoid the cavalry, and streamed past our front at a miles distance in uninterrupted succession. The disarming and escorting of the prisoners delayed our advance, and many thousands of derbyshes escaped from the field. But the position of the cavalry and the pressure they exerted shouldered the routed army out into the desert, so that retiring they missed the city of Omderman altogether, and disregarding the Caliphah's summons to defend it and the orders of their amirs, continued their flight to the south. To harry and annoy the fugitives a few troops were dismounted with carbines, and a constant fire was made on such as did not attempt to come in and surrender. Yet the crowds continued to run the gauntlet, and at least twenty thousand men made good their escape. Many of these were still vicious, and replied to our fire with bullets, fortunately at very long range. It would have been madness for three hundred lancers to gallop in among such masses, and we had to be content with the results of the carbine fire. While all this had been going on, the advance of the army on Omderman was continuing. Nor was it long before we saw the imposing array of infantry topping the sandhills near Sergum and flooding out into the plain which lay between them and the city. High over the center brigade flew the black flag of the Caliphah, and underneath a smaller flash of red marked the position of the headquarters staff. The black masses of men continued to move slowly across the open ground while we fired at the flying Arabs, and at twelve o'clock we saw them halt near the river about three miles from the city. Orders now reached us to join them, and as the sun was hot, the day dragged, all were tired and hungry, and the horses needed water, we were not longing complying, and the remnants of the dervish army made good their retreat unmolested. We marched back to the Nile. The whole force had halted to drink, to eat, and to rest at Korshambat. The seam was striking. Imagine a six hundred yard stretch of the Suez Canal. The relief banks are crowded with brown or chocolate-clad figures. The northern side is completely covered with a swarming inventory of the British division. Thousands of animals, the horses of the cavalry, the artillery mules, the transport camels, fill the spaces and the foreground. Multitudes of khaki-clad men are sitting in rows on the slopes. Hundreds are standing by the brim or actually in the red muddy water. All are drinking quickly. Two or three carcasses, lying in the shallows, show that the soldiers are thirsty rather than particular. On all sides water bottles are being filled from the welcome Nile, which has come into the desert to refresh the weary animals and men. During the attack on McDonald's Brigade, the Egyptian cavalry had watched from their position on the southern slopes of the Carriere Hills, ready to intervene, if necessary, and support the infantry by a charge. As soon as the dervish onsets had ended and the whole mass had begun to retreat, Broadwood's cavalry brigade formed in two lines, of four and of five squadrons, respectively, and advanced in pursuit, first west for two miles, and then southwest for three miles more towards the round-topped hill. Like the 21st Lancers, they were delayed by many dervishes who threw down their arms and surrendered, and whom it was necessary to escort to the river. But as they drew nearer the mass of the routed army, it became apparent that the spirit of the enemy was by no means broken. Stubborn men fired continually as they lay wounded, refusing to ask for quarter, doubting perhaps that it would be granted. Under every bush that gave protection from the lances of the horsemen, little groups collected to make a desperate stand. Solitary spearmen awaited unflinching the charge of a whole squadron. Men who had feigned death sprang up to fire an unexpected shot. The cavalry began to suffer occasional casualties. In proportion as they advanced, the resistance of the enemy increased. The direct pursuit had soon to be abandoned, but in the hope of intercepting some part of the retreating mob, Major Le Galais, who commanded the three leading squadrons, changed direction towards the river, and galloping nearly parallel to Khor Shambat, charged and cut into the tail of the enemy's disordered array. The Arabs, however, stood their ground, and firing their rifles wildly in all directions, killed and wounded a good many horses and men so that the squadrons were content to bring up their rights still more, and finally to ride out of the hornet's swarm into which they had plunged towards Sergam Hill. The pursuit was then suspended, and the Egyptian cavalry joined the rest of the army by the Nile. It was not until four o'clock that the cavalry received orders to ride round the outside of the city and Harry Suches should seek to escape. The Egyptian squadrons and the twenty-first Lancers started forthwith, and, keeping about a mile from the houses of the suburbs, proceeded to make the circle of the town. The infantry had already entered it, as was evident from a continual patter of shots and an occasional rattle of the Maxim guns. The leading Sudanese brigade, Maxwell's, had moved from Khor Shambat at two-thirty, formed in line of company columns and in the following order. In the direction of advance, from left to right, the fourteenth Sudanese, the twelfth Sudanese, Maxim guns, the eighth Egyptians, and then the thirty-second field battery, followed by the thirteenth Sudanese. The Sardar, attended by his whole staff, with the black flag of the caliphate carried behind him and accompanied by the band of the eleventh Sudanese, rode in front of the fourteenth battalion. The regiments were soon enveloped by the numberless houses of the suburbs and divided by the twisting streets, but the whole brigade pressed forward on a broad front. Behind followed the rest of the army, battalion after battalion, brigade after brigade. Until all, swallowed up by the maze of mud-houses, were filling the open spaces and blocking and choking the streets and alleys with solid masses of armed men, who marched or pushed their way up to the Great Wall. For two miles the progress through the suburbs continued, and the general, hurrying on with his staff, soon found himself with the band, the Maxim's, and the artillery, at the foot of the Great Wall. Several hundred dervishes had gathered for its defense, but the fact that no banquette had been made on which they could stand to fire, prevented their resistance from being effective. A few elamed shots were, however, fired, to which the Maxim's guns replied with vigor. In a quarter of an hour the wall was cleared. The Sardar then posted two guns of the thirty-second field battery at its northern angle, and then, accompanied by the remaining four guns and the fourteenth Sudanese, turned eastwards and rode along the foot of the wall towards the river, seeking some means of entry into the inner city. The breach made by the gun boats was found temporarily blocked by wooden doors, but the main gate was open, and through this the general passed into the heart of Omderman. Within the wall the scenes were more terrible than in the suburbs. The effects of the bombardment were evident on every side. Women and children lay frightfully mangled in the roadway. At one place a whole family had been crushed by a projectile. Dead dervishes, already in the fierce heat beginning to decompose, dotted the ground. The houses were crammed with wounded. Hundreds of decaying carcasses of animals filled the air with a sickening smell. Here, as without the wall, the anxious inhabitants renewed their protestations of loyalty and welcome, and interpreters, riding down the narrow alleys, proclaimed the merciful conditions of the conquerors and called on the people to lay down their arms. Great piles of surrendered weapons rose in the streets guarded by Sudanese soldiers. Many Arabs sought clemency, but there were others who disdained it, and the whirring of the maxims, the crashes of the volleys, and a continual dropping fire attested that there was fighting in all parts of the city into which the columns had penetrated. All dervishes who did not immediately surrender were shot or ban-edded, and bullets whistled at random along or across the streets. But while women crowded round his horse, while sullen men filed carefully from houses, while beaten warriors cast their spears on the ground and others still resisting were dispatched in corners, the Serdar rode steadily onward through the confusion, the stench, and the danger until he reached the Mahdi's tomb. At the mosque two fanatics charged the Sudanese escort, and each killed or badly wounded a soldier before he was shot. The day was now far spent, and it was dusk when the prison was reached. The general was the first to enter that foul and gloomy den. Charles Newfeld and some thirty heavily shackled prisoners were released. Newfeld, who was placed on a pony, seemed nearly mad with delight, and talked and gesticulated with queer animation. Thirteen years! he said to his rescuer. Have I waited for this day? From the prison, as it was now dark, the Serdar rode to the great square in front of the mosque, in which his headquarters were established and where both British brigades were already bivouacking. The rest of the army settled down along the roadways through the suburbs, and only Maxwell's brigade remained in the city to complete the establishment of law and order, a business which was fortunately hidden by the shades of night. While the Serdar with the infantry of the army was taking possession of Omderman, the British and Egyptian cavalry had moved round to the west of the city. There for nearly two hours we waited, listening to the dropping fuselade, which could be heard within the great wall, and wondering what was happening. Large numbers of dervishes and Arabs, who, laying aside their gibbous, had ceased to be dervishes, appeared among the houses at the edge of the suburbs. Several hundreds of these, with two or three amirs, came out to make their submission, and we were presently so loaded with spears and swords that it was impossible to carry them, and many interesting trophies had to be destroyed. It was just getting dark when suddenly Colonel Slatin galloped up. The califa had fled. The Egyptian cavalry where it wants to pursue him. The twenty-first Lancers must await further orders. Slatin appeared very much in earnest. He talked with animated manner to Colonel Broadwood, questioned two of the surrendered amirs closely, and hurried off into the dusk, while the Egyptian squadrons, mounting, also rode away at a trot. It was not for some hours after he had left the field of battle that Abdullah realized that his army had not obeyed his summons, but were continuing their retreat, and that only a few hundred dervishes remained for the defense of the city. He seems, if we judge from the accounts of his personal servant, an Abyssinian boy, to have faced the disasters that had overtaken him with singular composure. He rested until two o'clock, when he ate some food. Thereafter he repaired to the tomb, and in that ruined shrine, amid the wreckage of the shell-fire, the defeated sovereign appealed to the spirit of Mohammed Ahmad to help him in his sore distress. It was the last prayer ever offered over the Mahdi's grave. The celestial councils seemed to have been in accord with the dictates of common sense, and at four o'clock the califa, hearing that the sardar was already entering the city, and that the English cavalry were on the parade ground to the west, mounted a small donkey, and accompanied by his principal wife, a Greek nun as a hostage, and a few attendants, rode leisurely off towards the south. Eight miles from Amderman a score of swift camels awaited him, and on these he soon reached the main body of his routed army. Here he found many disheartened friends, but the fact that, in this evil plight, he found any friends at all must be recorded in his favor and in that of his subjects. When he arrived he had no escort, was indeed unarmed. The fugitives had good reason to be savage, their leaders had led them only to their ruin. To cut the throat of this one man who was the cause of all their sufferings was as easy as they would have thought it innocent. Yet none assailed him. The tyrant, the oppressor, the scourge of the Sudan, the hypocrite, the abominated califa, the embodiment as he had been depicted to European eyes of all the vices, the object, as he was believed in England, of his people's bitter hatred, found safety and welcome among his flying soldiers. The surviving Amirs hurried to his side. Many had gone down on the fatal plain. Asman Azrak, the valiant Bishara, Yaqub, and scores whose strange names have not obscured these pages, but who were nevertheless great men of war, lay staring up at the stars. Yet those who remain never wavered in their allegiance, Ali Wadhalu, whose leg had been shattered by a shell splinter, was senseless with pain, but the Sheikh Eddin, the astute Azman Dighna, Ibrahim Khalil, who withstood the charge of the twenty-first Lancers, and others of less note rallied to the side of the appointed successor of Muhammad Amad, and did not, even in this extremity, abandon his cause. And so all hurried on through the gathering darkness, a confused and miserable multitude, dejected warriors still preserving their trashy rifles, and wounded men hobbling pitifully along, camels and donkeys laden with household goods, women crying, panting, dragging little children, all in thousands, nearly thirty thousand altogether, with little food, and less water to sustain them, the desert before them, the gun-boats on the Nile, and behind the rumours of pursuit and a broad trail of dead and dying to mark the path of flight. Meanwhile the Egyptian cavalry had already started on their fruitless errand. The squadrons were greatly reduced in numbers. The men carried food to suffice till morning. The horses, barely enough to last till noon. To supplement this slender provision, a steamer had been ordered up the river to meet them the next day with fresh supplies. The road by the Nile was choked with armed dervishes, and to avoid these dangerous fugitives the columns struck inland and marched southward towards some hills whose dark outlines showed against the sky. The unknown ground was difficult and swampy. At times the horses floundered to their girths in wet sand. At others rocky cores obstructed the march. Horses and camels blundered and fell. The darkness complicated the confusion. At about ten o'clock Colonel Broadwood decided to go no further till there was more light. He therefore drew off the column towards the desert and halted on a comparatively dry spot. Some muddy pools, which were luckily discovered, enabled the bottles to be filled and the horses to be watered. Then, having posted many centuries, the exhausted pursuers slept, waking from time to time to listen to the intermittent firing which was still audible both from the direction of Omderman and from that in which the dervish army was flying. At 3 a.m. on the 3rd Colonel Broadwood's force moved on again. Men and horses seemed refreshed, and by the aid of a bright moon the ground was covered at a good pace. By 7 o'clock the squadrons approached the point on the river which had been fixed for meeting the steamer. She had already arrived, and the sight of the funnel in the distance and the anticipation of a good meal cheered everyone, for they had scarcely had anything to eat since the night before the battle. But as the troopers drew nearer it became evident that three hundred yards of shallow water and deep swamp intervened between them and the vessel. Closer approach was prevented. There was no means of landing the stores. In the hopes of finding a suitable spot further up the stream the march was resumed. The steamer kept pace along the river. The boggy ground delayed the columns but by 2 o'clock seven more miles had been covered. Only the flag at the masthead was now visible and an impassable morass separated the force from the river bank. It was impossible to obtain supplies. Without food it was out of the question to go on. Indeed, great privations must, as it was, accompany the return march. The necessity was emphasized by the reports of captured fugitives who all told the same tale that Khalifa had pushed on swiftly and was trying to reorganize his army. Colonel Broadwood thereupon rested his horses till the heat of the day was over and then began the homeward march. It was not until eleven o'clock on the 4th of September that the worn-out and famished cavalry reached their camp near Omderman. Such was the pursuit as conducted by the regular troops. Abdel Azim, with 750 Arabs, persisted still further in the chase. Lightly equipped and acquainted with the country they reached Shigeg, nearly a hundred miles south of Khartoum, on the 7th. Here they obtained definite information. The Khalifa had two days' start, plenty of food and water, and many camels. He had organized a bodyguard of 500 Jihadia and was besides surrounded by a large force of Arabs of various tribes. With this numerous and powerful following he was travelling day and night towards El-Obeyed, which town was held by an unbeaten dervish garrison of nearly 3,000 men. On hearing these things the friendly Arabs determined, not unwisely, to abandon the pursuit and came boastfully back to Omderman. In the battle and capture of Omderman the losses of the expeditionary force included the following British officers killed Captain G. Caldecott, 1st Royal Warwickshire Regiment, Lieutenant R. G. Grenfell, 12th Royal Lancers, attached 21st Lancers. The honourable H. Howard corresponded of the times. In total the British Division and Egyptian Army suffered 482 men killed or wounded. The dervish losses were, from computations made on the field and corrected at a later date, ascertained to be 9,700 killed and wounded, variously estimated at from 10,000 to 16,000, there were besides 5,000 prisoners. End of Chapter 16 Chapter 17 of The River War This LibriVox recording is in the public domain and is read by Mark Smith of Simpsonville, South Carolina. The River War by Winston Churchill Chapter 17 The Fashoda Incident The long succession of events, of which I have attempted to give some account, has not hitherto affected to any great extent other countries than those which are drained by the Nile. But this chapter demands a wider view, since it must describe an incident which might easily have convulsed Europe, and from which far reaching consequences have arisen. It is unlikely that the world will ever learn the details of the subtle scheme of which the Marchand mission was a famous part. We may say with certainty that the French government did not intend a small expedition, at great peril to itself, to seize and hold an obscure swamp on the upper Nile. But it is not possible to define the other arrangements. What part the Abyssinians were expected to play, what services had been rendered them, and what inducements they were offered, what attitude was to be adopted to the Califa, what use was to be made of the local tribes, all this is veiled in the mystery of intrigue. It is well known that for several years France, at some cost to herself, and at a greater cost to Italy, had courted the friendship of Abyssinia, and that the weapons by which the Italians were defeated at Adawa, had been mainly supplied through French channels. A small quick-firing gun of continental manufacture and of recent make, which was found in the possession of the Califa, seems to point to the existence or contemplation of similar relations with the Dervishes. But how far these operations were designed to assist the Marchand mission is known only to those who initiated them, and to a few others who have so far kept their own counsel. The undisputed facts are few. Towards the end of 1896 a French expedition was dispatched from the Atlantic into the heart of Africa under the command of Major Marchand. The reoccupation of Dongola was then practically complete, and the British government were earnestly considering the desirability of a further advance. In the beginning of 1897 a British expedition under Colonel MacDonald, and comprising a dozen carefully selected officers, set out from England to Uganda, landed at Mombasa, and struck inland. The misfortunes which fell upon this enterprise are beyond the scope of this account, and I shall not dwell upon the local jealousies and disputes which marred it. It is sufficient to observe that Colonel MacDonald was provided with Sudanese troops who were practically in a state of mutiny, and actually mutinyed two days after he assumed command. The officers were compelled to fight for their lives. Several were killed. A year was consumed in suppressing the mutiny and the revolt which arose out of it. If the object of the expedition was to reach the upper Nile, it was soon obviously unattainable, and the government were glad to employ the officers in making geographical surveys. At the beginning of 1898 it was clear to those who, with the fullest information, directed the foreign policy of Great Britain, that no results affecting the situation in the Sudan could be expected from the MacDonald expedition. The advance to Khartoum and the reconquest of the lost provinces have been irrevocably undertaken. An Anglo-Egyptian force was already concentrating at Berber. Lastly, the Marchand mission was known to be moving towards the upper Nile, and it was a probable contingency that it would arrive at its destination within a few months. It was therefore evident that the line of advance of the powerful army moving south from the Mediterranean, and of the tiny expedition moving east from the Atlantic, must intersect before the end of the year, and that intersection would involve a collision between the powers of Great Britain and France. I do not pretend to any special information not hitherto given to the public in this further matter, but the reader may consider for himself whether the conciliatory policy which Lord Salisbury pursued towards Russia in China at this time, a policy which excited hostile criticism in England, was designed to influence the impending conflict on the upper Nile, and make it certain, or at least likely, that when Great Britain and France should be placed in direct opposition, France should find herself alone. With these introductory reflections we may return to the theatre of the war. On the 7th of September, five days after the battle in capture of Omderman, the Tufikia, a small dervish steamer, one of those formerly used by General Gordon, came drifting and peddling down the river. Her Arab crew soon perceived by the Egyptian flags which were hoisted on the principal buildings, and by the shattered condition of the Maudi's tomb, that all was not well in the city. And then, drifting a little further, they found themselves surrounded by the white gun-boats of the Turks, and so incontinently surrendered. The story they told their captors was a strange one. They had left Omderman a month earlier, in company with the steamer Safiya, carrying a force of five hundred men, with the caliph's orders to go up the white Nile and collect grain. For some time all had been well, but on approaching the old government station of Fashoda, they had been fired on by black troops commanded by white officers under a strange flag, and fired on with such effect that they had lost some forty men killed and wounded. Doubting who these formidable enemies might be, the foraging expedition had turned back, and the Amir in command, having disembarked and formed a camp at a place on the east bank called Reng, had sent the Tufikia back to ask the caliph for instructions and reinforcements. The story was carried to the Sardar, and ran like wildfire through the camp. Many officers made their way to the river where the steamer lay, to test for themselves the truth of the report. The woodwork of the hull was marked with many newly made holes, and cutting into these with their pen knives the officers extracted bullets, not the roughly cast leaden balls, the bits of telegraph wire, or old iron which savages use, but the conical nickel covered bullets of small bore rifles such as are fired by civilized forces alone. Here was positive proof. A European power was on the upper Nile. Which? Some said it was the Belgians from the Congo. Some that an Italian expedition had arrived. Others thought that the strangers were French. Others again believed in the foreign office. It was a British expedition, after all. The Arab crew was cross-examined as to the flag they had seen. Their replies were inconclusive. It had bright colors, they declared. But what those colors were, and what their arrangement might be, they could not tell. They were poor men, and God was very great. They found no comfort but impatient source speculation. The camp for the most part received the news with a shrug. After their easy victory the soldiers walked delicately. They knew that they belonged to the most powerful force that had ever penetrated the heart of Africa. If there was to be more war, the government had but to give the word and the grand army of the Nile would do by these newcomers as they had done by the Dervishes. On the 8th the Cerdars started up the White Nile for Fashoda with five steamers, the 11th and 13th battalions of Sudanese, two companies of the Cameron Highlanders, Peaks Battery of Artillery, and four Maxim Guns. Three days later he arrived at Reng, and there found, as the crew of the Tufikia had declared, some five hundred Dervishes encamped on the bank, and the Safiya steamer moored to it. These stupid fellows had the temerity to open fire on the vessels. Where at the Sultan, steaming towards them, replied with a fierce shellfire which soon put them to flight. The Safiya, being under steam, made some attempt to escape, with her, it is impossible to say, and Commander Keppel by a well-directed shell in her boilers blew her up, much to the disgust of the Cerdar who wanted to add her to his flotilla. After this incident the expedition continued its progress up the White Nile. The sood which was met with two days' journey south of Khartoum did not in this part of the Nile offer any obstacle to navigation, as the strong current of the river clears the waterway. But on either side of the channel a belt of the tangled weed, varying from twelve to twelve hundred yards in breadth, very often prevented the steamers from approaching the bank to tie up. The banks themselves depressed the explorers by their melancholy inhospitality. At times the river flowed past miles of long grey grass and swamp-lammed, inhabited and habitable only by hippopotamia. At times a vast expanse of dreary mud-flats stretched as far as the eye could see. At others the forest, dense with an impenetrable undergrowth of thorn-bushes, approached the water and the active forms of monkeys and even of leopards darted among the trees. But the country, whether forest, mud-flat or prairie, was always damp and feverish, a wet land, steaming under a burning sun, and humming with mosquitoes and all kinds of insect life. Onward and southward toiled the flotilla, splashing the brown water into foam, and startling the strange creatures on the banks. Until on the eighteenth of September they approached Fashoda. The gumboats waited, moored to the bank for some hours of the afternoon, to allow a message which had been sent by the Serdar to the mysterious Europeans, to precede his arrival. And early in the morning of the nineteenth a small steel rowing-boat was observed coming downstream to meet the expedition. It contained a Senegalese sergeant and two men, with a letter from Major Marchand announcing the arrival of the French troops and their formal occupation of the Sudan. It, moreover, congratulated the Serdar on his victory and welcomed him to Fashoda in the name of France. A few miles further progress brought the gumboats to their destination and they made fast to the bank near the old government buildings of the town. Major Marchand's party consisted of eight French officers or non-commissioned officers, and one hundred twenty black soldiers drawn from the Niger district. They possessed three steel boats fitted for sail or oars, and a small steam-launch, the Fedherb, which latter had, however, been sent south for reinforcements. They had six months' supplies of provisions for the French officers, and about three months' rations for the men, but they had no artillery and were in great wad of small-arm ammunition. Their position was indeed precarious. The little force was stranded, without communications of any sort, and with no means of either withstanding an attack or of making a retreat. They had fired away most of their cartridges at the Dervish foraging party, and were daily expecting a renewed attack. Indeed it was with consternation that they had heard of the approach of the flutilla. The natives had carried the news swiftly up the river that the Dervishes were coming back with five steamers, and for three nights the French had been sleeplessly awaiting the assault of a powerful enemy. Their joy and relief at the arrival of a European force were undisguised. The Sardar and his officers on their part were thrilled with admiration at the wonderful achievements of this small band of heroic men. Two years had passed since they left the Atlantic coast. For four months they had been absolutely lost from human ken. They had fought with savages. They had struggled with fever. They had climbed mountains and pierced the most gloomy forests. Five days and five nights they had stood up to their necks and swamp in water. A fifth of their number had perished, yet at last they had carried out their mission, and, arriving at Fashota on the 10th of July, had planted the tricolor upon the upper Nile. Moved by such reflections the British officers disembarked. Major Marchand, with a guard of honour, came to meet the General. They shook hands warmly. "'I congratulate you,' said the Sardar, out all you have accomplished.' "'No,' replied the Frenchman, pointing to his troops. "'It is not I, but these soldiers who have done it.' And Kitchener, telling the story afterwards, remarked, "'Then I knew he was a gentleman.' Into the diplomatic discussions that followed it is not necessary to plunge. The Sardar politely ignored the French flag, and without interfering with the Marchand expedition and the fort had occupied, hoisted the British and Egyptian colours with all due ceremony, amid musical honours and the salutes of the gun-boats. A garrison was established at Fashota, consisting of the 11th Sudanese, four guns of Peaks battery, and two Maxims, the whole under the command of Colonel Jackson, who was appointed military and civil commandant at the Fashota district. At three o'clock on the same afternoon the Sardar and the gun-boats resumed their journey to the south, and the next day reached the mouth of the Sobat, sixty-two miles from Fashota. Here other flags were hoisted, and another post formed, with a garrison of half the thirteenth Sudanese battalion, and the remaining two guns of Peaks battery. The expedition then turned northwards, leaving two gun-boats, the Sultan and the Abu-Qliya, at the disposal of Colonel Jackson. I do not attempt to describe the international negotiations and discussions that followed the receipt of the news in Europe, but it is pleasing to remember that a great crisis found England united. The determination of the government was approved by the loyalty of the opposition, supported by the calm resolve of the people, and armed with the efficiency of the fleet. At first indeed, while the Sardar was still steaming southward, wander and suspense filled all minds. But when suspense ended in the certainty that eight French adventurers were in occupation of Fashota, and claimed a territory twice as large as France, it gave place to a deep and bitter anger. There is no power in Europe which the average Englishman regards with less animosity than France. Nevertheless, on this matter all were agreed. They should go. They should evacuate Fashota, or else all the might, majesty, dominion, and power of everything that could by any stretch of the imagination be called British, should be employed to make them go. Those who find it difficult to account for the hot, almost petulant flush of resolve that stirred the nation must look back over the long history of the Sudan drama. It had always been a duty to reconquer the abandoned territory. When it was found that this might be safely done, the duty became a pleasure. The operations were watched with extravagant attention, and while they progressed the earnestness of the nation increased. As the tides of barbarism were gradually driven back, the old sea-marks came one after another in devue. Names of towns that were half-forgotten, or remembered only with sadness, reappeared on the posters, in the gazettes, and in the newspapers. We were going back. Dangala, Berber, Matema. Who had not heard of them before? Now they were associated with triumph. Considerable armies fought on the Indian frontier. There was war in the south and the east and the west of Africa. But England looked steadfastly towards the Nile, and the expedition that crawled forward slowly, steadily, unchecked, apparently irresistible. When the final triumph, long expected, came in all its completeness, it was hailed with a shout of exultation, and the people of Great Britain, moved far beyond their want, sat themselves down to give thanks to their God, their government, and their general. Suddenly, in the course of their rejoicing, there broke a discordant note. They were confronted with the fact that a friendly power had, unprovoked, endeavored to rob them of the fruits of their victories. They now realized that while they had been devoting themselves to great military operations, in broad daylight and the eye of the world, and prosecuting an enterprise on which they had set their hearts, other operations, covert and deceitful, had been in progress in the heart of the dark continent, designed solely for the mischievous and spiteful object of depriving them of the produce of their labors, and they firmly set their faces against such behavior. First of all, Great Britain was determined to have fashota or fight, and as soon as this was made clear the French were willing to give way. Fashota was a miserable swamp of no particular value to them. Marchand, Lord Salisbury's explorer in difficulties upon the upper Nile, was admitted by the French minister to be merely an emissary of civilization. It was not worth their while to embark on the hazards and convulsions of a mighty war for either swamp or emissary. Besides the plot had failed. Guy Fawkes, true to his oath and his orders, had indeed reached the vault, but the other conspirators were less devoted. The Abyssinians had held aloof. The Negro tribes gazed with wonder on the strangers, but had no intention of fighting for them. The pride and barbarism of the Califa rejected all overtures, and disdained to discriminate between the various breeds of the accursed Turks. Finally, the victory of Omderman and its forerunner, the Desert Railway, had revolutionized the whole situation in the Nile Valley. After some weeks of tension, the French government consented to withdraw their expedition from the region of the upper Nile. Meanwhile, events were passing at Fashota. The town, the site of which had been carefully selected by the old Egyptian government, is situated on the left bank of the river, on a gentle slope of ground which rises about four feet above the level of the Nile at full flood. During the rainy season, which lasts from the end of June until the end of October, the surrounding country is one vast swamp, and Fashota itself becomes an island. It is not, however, without its importance, for it is the only spot on the west shore for very many miles where landing from the river is possible. All the roads, mere camel-tracks, from lower Cortifon meet at the government post, but are only passable in the dry season. The soil is fertile, and since there is a super abundance of sun and water, almost any crop or plant can be grown. The French officers, with the adaptive thrift of their nation, had already, in spite of the ravages of the water-rats, created a good vegetable garden from which they were able to supplement their monotonous fare. The natives, however, Aboriginal Negroes of the Dinka and Shaluk tribes, are unwilling to work, except to provide themselves with the necessaries of life, and since these are easily obtained there is very little cultivation, and the fertility of the soil may be said to increase the poverty of the country. At all seasons of the year the climate of Fashota is pestilential, and the malarial fever attacks every European or Egyptian, breaking down the strongest constitutions, and in many cases causing death. The place is most unhealthy, and in March 1899, the driest season of the year, out of a garrison of 317 men only 37 were fit for duty, from Sir William Garston's report, Egypt No. 5, 1899. On this dismal island, far from civilization, health or comfort, the Marchand mission and the Egyptian garrison lived in polite antagonism for nearly three months. The French fort stood at the northern end. The Egyptian camp lay outside the ruins of the town. Civilities were constantly exchanged between the forces, and the British officers repaid the welcome gifts of fresh vegetables by newspapers and other conveniences. The Senegalese riflemen were smart and well-conducted soldiers, and the blacks of the Sudanese battalions soon imitated their officers in reciprocating courtesies. A feeling of mutual respect sprang up between Colonel Jackson and Major Marchand. The dashing commandant of the 11th Sudanese, whose Egyptian medals bear no fewer than fourteen clasps, was filled with a generous admiration for the French explorer. Realizing the difficulties, he appreciated the magnificence of the achievement, and as he spoke excellent French, a good and almost cordial understanding was established, and no serious disagreement occurred. But notwithstanding the polite relations, the greatest vigilance was exercised by both sides, and whatever civilities were exchanged were of a formal nature. The Dinkas and Shilux had on the first arrival of the French made submission, and had supplied them with provisions. They knew that white men were said to be coming, and they did not realize that there were different races among the whites. Marchand was regarded as the advance guard of the Sardar's army. But when the Negroes gradually perceived that these bands of white men were at enmity with each other, were in fact of rival tribes, they immediately transferred their allegiance to the stronger force, and although their dread of the Egyptian flag was at first very marked, boycotted the French entirely. In the middle of October, dispatches from France arrived for Marchand by steamer, and that officer, after reading them, determined to proceed to Cairo. Jackson, who was most anxious that no disagreement should arise, begged him to give positive orders to his subordinate to maintain the status quo, as had been agreed. Marchand gladly consented and departed for Amderman, where he visited the battlefield, and found in the heaps of slain a grim witness of the destruction from which he had been saved, and so on to Cairo, where he was moved to tears and speeches. But in his absence Captain Germain, who succeeded to the command, diverged from his orders. No sooner had Marchand left than Germain, anxious to win distinction, embarked upon a most aggressive policy. He occupied the Dinka country on the right bank of the river, pushed reconordering parties into the interior, prevented the Dinka shakes from coming to make their submission at Fashoda, and sent his boats and the Fate Herba steam-launch, which had returned from the south, beyond the northern limits which the Sardar had prescribed, and Marchand had agreed to recognize. Colonel Jackson protested again and again. Germain sent haughty replies, and persisted in his provoking policy. At last the British officer was compelled to declare that if any more patrols were set into the Dinka country, he would not allow them to return to the French post. We're at Germain rejoined that he would meet force with force. All tempers were worn by fever, heat, discomfort, and monotony. The situation became very difficult, and the tact and patience of Colonel Jackson alone averted a conflict which would have resounded in all parts of the world. He confined his troops strictly to their lines, and moved as far from the French campus as possible. But there was one dark day, when the French officers worked in their shirts with their faithful Senegalese to strengthen the entrenchments, and busily prepared for a desperate struggle. On the other side little activity was noticeable. The Egyptian garrison, although under arms, kept out of sight, but a wisp of steam above the funnels of the redoubtable gun boats showed that all was ready. At length, in a fortunate hour, Marchand returned, reproved his subordinate, and expressed his regrets to Colonel Jackson. Then it became known that the French government had ordered the evacuation of Fashoda. Some weeks were spent in making preparations for the journey, but at length the day of departure arrived. At 8.20 on the morning of the 11th of December the French lowered their flag with salute and flourish of bugle. The British officers, who remained in their own camp and did not uptrude themselves, were distant but interested spectators. On the flag ceasing to fly, a sous officier rushed up to the flagstaff and hurled it to the ground, shaking his fists and tearing his hair in a bitterness and vexation from which it is impossible to withhold sympathy and view of what these men had suffered uselessly and what they had done. The French then embarked, and at 9.30 steamed southward, the fit herba towing one oblong steel barge and one old steel boat, the other three boats sailing, all full of men. As the little flotilla passed the Egyptian camp, a guard of honour of the 11th Sudanese saluted them and the band struck up their national anthem. The French acknowledged the compliment by dipping their flag, and in return the British and Egyptian flags were also lowered. The boats then continued their journey until they had rounded the bend of the river when they came to land, and honour being duly satisfied, Marchand and his officers returned to breakfast with Colonel Jackson. The meeting was very friendly. Jackson and Germain exchanged most elaborate compliments, and the commandant, in the name of the 11th Sudanese, presented the expedition with the banner of the Amir who had attacked them, which had been captured at Reng. Marchand shook hands all around, and the British officers bade their gallant opponents a final farewell. Once again the eight Frenchmen, who had come so far and accomplished so much, set out upon their travels, to make a safe, though tedious journey through Abyssinia to the coast, and thence home to the country they had served faithfully and well, and which was not unmindful of their services. Let us settle the international aspect of the reconquest of the Sudan while we are in the way with it. The disputes between France and England about the Valley of the Upper Nile were terminated, as far as material cause was concerned, by an agreement, signed in London on the 21st of March, 1899, by Lord Salisbury and Monsieur Combeau. The declaration limiting the respective spheres of influence of the two powers took the form of an addition to the fourth article of the Niger Convention concluded in the previous year. Its practical effect is to reserve the whole drainage system of the Nile to England and Egypt, and to engage that France shall have a free hand, so far as those powers are concerned, in the rest of Northern Africa, west of the Nile Valley, not yet occupied by Europeans. This stupendous partition of half a continent by two European powers could scarcely be expected to excite the enthusiasm of the rest. Germany was, however, soothed by the promise of the observance of the open-door policy upon the Upper Nile. Italy, protesting meekly, followed Germany. Russia had no interests in this quarter. France and England were agreed. The rest were not consulted, and the declaration may thus be said to have been recognized by the world in general. It is perhaps early to attempt to pronounce with which of the contracting powers the advantage lies. France has acquired at a single stroke, without any serious military operations, the recognition of rights which may enable her, ultimately, to annex a vast African territory. At present what she has gained may be described as a recognized sphere of aspiration. The future may convert this into a sphere of influence, and the distant future may witness the entire subjugation of the whole region. There are many difficulties to be overcome. The powerful influence of the Senussi has yet to be overthrown. The independent kingdom of Wadi must be conquered. Many smaller potentates will resist desperately. Altogether France has enough to occupy her in Central Africa for some time to come. And even when the long task is finished, the conquered regions are not likely to be of great value. They include the desert of the great Sahara, and wide expanses of equally profitless scrub or marsh. Only one important river, the Shari, flows through them, and never reaches the sea. And even Lake Chad, into which the Shari flows, appears to be leaking through some subterranean exit, and is rapidly changing from a lake into an immense swamp. Great Britain and Egypt, upon the other hand, have secured a territory which, though smaller, is nevertheless of enormous extent, more fertile, comparatively easy of access, practically conquered, and containing the waterway of the Nile. France will be able to paint a great deal of the map of Africa blue, and the aspect of the continent upon paper may please the patriotic eye, but is already possible to predict that before she can develop her property, can convert aspiration into influence, and influence into occupation, she will have to work harder, pay more, and wait longer for a return than will the more modest owners of the Nile Valley. And even when that return is obtained, it is unlikely that it will be of so much value. It only remains to discuss the settlement made between the conquerors of the Sudan. Great Britain and Egypt have moved hand in hand up the Great River, sharing, though unequally, the cost of the war in men and money. The prize belonged to both. The direct annexation of the Sudan by Great Britain would have been an injustice to Egypt. Moreover, the claim of the conquerors to Fashota and other territories rested solely on the former rights of Egypt. On the other hand, if the Sudan became Egyptian again, it must wear the fetters of that imprisoned country. The capitulations would apply to the upper Nile regions as to the Delta. Mixed tribunals, Ottoman Cicering tea, and other vexatious burdens would be added to the difficulties of Sudan administration. To free the new country from the curse of internationalism was a paramount object. The Sudan Agreement by Great Britain and Egypt, published on the 7th of March, 1899, achieves this. Like most of the best work done in Egypt by the British Agency, the agreement was slipped through without attracting much notice. Under its authority a state has been created in the Nile Valley which is neither British nor Ottoman, nor anything else so far known to the law of Europe. International jurists are confronted with an entirely new political status. A diplomatic fourth dimension has been discovered. Great Britain and Egypt rule the country together. The Allied conquerors have become the joint possessors. What does this Sudan Agreement mean? The Austrian Consul-General asked Lord Kroemer, and the British agent, whom 22 years' acquaintance with Egyptian affairs had accustomed to anomalies, replied, It means simply this, and handed him the inexplicable document under which the conquered country may someday march to peace and plenty.