Читать книгу A Prisoner of the Khaleefa: Twelve Years Captivity at Omdurman - Charles Neufeld - Страница 7

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Instead of our starting off the next morning at sunrise, a sort of “fantasia” was held. This consisted of men riding up and down the camp with mimic combats between individuals—a sort of circus display. Stricter watch was placed over me, and my guards warned against allowing me to hold conversation with any one. At sunset we were off again, and the following day halted in the desert, El Ordeh (Dongola) being then, I was told, a few hours’ distant. We rested probably a couple of hours, and marched until evening, but had not yet sighted Dongola. A final search was made for concealed loot, and a piece of my leather bag having been discovered on one of the men, he was flogged, and, offering to confess, confessed that he had found the bag empty on the ground. His clothing, and that of his section was searched, and resulted in the discovery of seventeen of my Turkish dollars; a further application of the courbag resulted in the discovery of the remainder of the three hundred dollars, and a third one, of the greater part of the jewellery. The flogging and searching delayed us, |42| and instead of travelling that night, we only got away in the morning, arriving within sight of Dongola at noon, when men were sent in to report our arrival.

While awaiting the return of the messengers, discipline—what there was of it—was relaxed, and the camp given over to jubilations. The attentions bestowed upon me were not pleasant; both by words and actions I was given to understand what the men hoped and expected would be my fate. A respite was granted, when the man who had received the floggings was brought to me so that I might certify that all the things discovered on him and his companions were extracted from my cash-bag, and that all the articles had been recovered. He seemed none the worse for his experiences, and the matter was explained to me. When the Ansar are flogged, upon an expedition, for a theft which, as the Emirs know, every one would commit, so many stripes are ordered to be given; these are given with the courbag (rhinoceros-hide whip) on the fleshy part of the back, and over the clothing.

He forgave me, and blamed the sugar for his discovery. The sugar-loaves, which were part of the goods of the Arabs who had joined the caravan at Wadi Halfa, had been broken up and distributed. At the wells some of the men had been noticed dipping pieces in the water and munching them, and none of the sugar having been handed in when the loot was collected, the first search was instituted, and this resulted in the discovery of other hidden loot. I do not happen to know who might be |43| the “father of sugar,” but I trust that the curses and imprecations showered on his head by my dervish friend may not reach him.

Hasseena was brought to be searched, and stripped naked; she cleverly dropped my seal in the sand, and pressed it in with her foot. I had asked her to get this seal from Elias, as, with this in their possession, the dervishes might have written, through my clerk, whatever letters they chose, and sealing them with my seal, have made them appear authentic. Hasseena was again questioned as to who I was, and persisted in saying that I was a merchant and not a Government official, and while she was being threatened with the courbag, which in this instance would have been applied as the cat-o’-nine-tails is at home, the Emir Hamza came forward as a witness in my favour. Hamza was another who, friendly as he was to the “Government,” had been driven into the ranks of the dervishes. After the final search, a move was made towards Dongola, opposite which town we arrived between two and three o’clock in the afternoon. Before the town we descried a grand parade of troops taking place, and as we halted a band struck up; from the sound which reached us, the band must have been composed of bugles and trumpets of all shapes, sizes, and pitch, with just as varied an assortment of drums. In the medley they played could be heard snatches of the so-called Khedivial hymn.

When the prisoners had been ranged up in such a manner as to make their exhibit most effective, and when I, as the prisoner of the occasion, had been |44| placed in the midst of the Emirs, a signal was given, on which the horsemen of the paraded army charged down upon us in their much-lauded and over-rated exhibition of horsemanship. This exhibition consists of individual and collective charges right on to the opposing line of onlookers, a sudden pulling up of the horse which throws it on to its haunches, a meaningless shaking of swords and spears over one’s head, a swerve to the left or right, the direction being dominated by the half-broken jaw for which the sudden pulling up with the brutal ring-bit with which the horses are ridden (?) is responsible; another charge, and so on until the rider is tired or the horse jibs. This is the usual programme, but it is occasionally varied by accidents to horses and riders and onlookers, as, for example, the affair of Khaleefa Ali Wad Helu, who, some few days before the battle of Omdurman, gave an inspiriting exhibition to the faithful in front of the Mahdi’s tomb, in order to instruct them how to charge the British lines, and spoiled the whole thing by being thrown, breaking his wrist, laming the horse, and nearly killing half a dozen of his most ardent admirers who were in the front rank. This is not fiction.

THE KHALEEFA’S TENDER MERCIES.

The parade and exhibition, called El Arrdah, given in celebration of our capture, lasted more than an hour, when a move was made towards Dongola, and on arrival at the town, Wad Hamza and Wad Farag led me to the gateway of Nejoumi’s enclosure. We were kept waiting at the entrance for some time, and it was as much as my guards could do to protect me from the rabble; the people were in a most excited |45| state, and my position was not rendered any the more comfortable by my understanding the language. I was prodded with spears and swords, and maybe for a quarter of an hour—it may have been more, it may have been less—I was subjected to as severe an ordeal for patience as ever man was put to. Many of those in the rabble knew me from pre-abandonment days, but the cringing supplicants of former days were now my bitterest foes and tormentors. Curses and imprecations are such common accompaniments in ordinary disputes in the East—disputes over the most trivial matters—that little new could assail my ears in a country where a child just learning to babble may be heard, in childish innocence, to lisp to its mother, “Il la'an abook,” or a much shorter expression which, owing to the large number now understanding Arabic, I cannot here use, but both of which expressions are in constant use. It was the suggestive actions—some of beheading, some of mutilations, others of a description which I may not even hint at, which nearly drove me to exasperation; they did so actually, but I controlled myself, and did not allow my exasperation to exhibit itself in any way, either by word or deed.

On entering the enclosure, I was shown to a small room, on the floor of which three people were sitting; one rose, and, taking my hand, said, “El Hamdu lillah,” “Bis-Salaamtuk” (thanks be to God for your safety). I was told to sit down. The three scrutinized me, and I returned their gaze. For some moments nothing was said, and I was determined not to be the first to break the silence. Presently food was brought |46| in, and I was told to partake of it. As with the first meal with the Emirs, I set to with a will, and continued eating after the others had finished, taking not the slightest notice of my hosts. I was acting a part, I admit, for indifferent as I might have appeared to all taking place around me, I was at the same time “all eyes and ears.”

When I had finished, the one who had first spoken to me, and whom I had guessed was Nejoumi, “introduced” himself to me. He prefaced the series of questions he put to me by saying, “Do not be afraid; I hope it will be my pleasure to receive you into the true religion, and we shall be good friends.” Nejoumi assured me that I should soon get accustomed to my new mode of life, and would in the end bless him for having saved me. He then told me that he knew perfectly well who I was, and, not being a “Government man,” my life was safe at his hands, but my property, having been found in a caravan of enemies, must be confiscated. I did not follow his reasoning, nor was I allowed to, for he sent me off to the house of the Amin Beit-el-Mal (storekeeper or director of the Beit-el-Mal), with instructions that I should be well attended to. Hasseena was sent into the hareem of the same house.

Early the next morning Nejoumi sent for me, and upon arriving at his enclosure, I saw that he had a number of Sheikh Saleh’s men under examination. I learned later that some had admitted that I was once in Government employ, and had fought against the Mahdi, but that now I was a merchant only. There were, of course, numbers in the town who remembered |47| me in connection with the expedition, and in order to curry favour, they were not averse to credit me with exploits and prowess which, if related to and believed in by the British authorities, would have placed me upon an unearned pedestal. In this instance they were related in the hope that I should be placed on the now well-known “angareeb,” which in a few seconds would be drawn away, leaving me suspended by the neck. When my turn for interrogation came, my letter-wallet was handed to Nejoumi; he had, no doubt, had the contents examined the night before. His first question was, “Which are the Government papers?” I declared that there were none, and that all the papers were business ones. He then inquired, “Are there no papers from the friends of the Government?”—to which I answered, “There may be; I am a merchant; I buy gum, hides—anything from the Soudan, and sell them again to any one else who will buy them from me. It is ‘khullo zai baadoo’ (all the same) to me who the people are—friends or enemies of the Government—provided they pay me. I gave good money for what I bought, and wanted good money for what I sold.” Nejoumi then told me that he had had the letters translated by a girl educated in the “Kanneesa” (church) of Khartoum. General Stephenson’s letter had been translated as a “firman” appointing me the “Pasha” of the Western Soudan, with orders to wage war on the dervishes, for which purpose I had been provided with money, rifles, and ammunition, and about forty or fifty men as my personal bodyguard.

At first I was dumfounded; then, serious as my |48| position was, I could not restrain myself from bursting out laughing. I protested that the translation was false, and asked to be shown the document. I was not shown it. To a man whom I surmised was the Kadi, I said, “If the letter is a ‘firman,’ then it should be written in Arabic, as the Soudanese did not read or understand English.” This remark appealed to Nejoumi, who said that he did not believe the translation himself, as it was quite different from the news he had received from Hassib-el-Gabou. I made inquiries about this black female convert to Christianity, and learned that she knew not a single word of English, but few of Italian, and, like the remainder of such converts so-called, went to the mission for what she could get out of it. I have forgotten her name, but hope to discover it before completing my notes, when I shall give it. It would be interesting to learn how much Christian money had been wasted on the education of this supposed convert, married then to a Danagli, and a shining light amongst the most fanatical of the women, who, with their songs and dances, fanned the flame of fanaticism amongst the men.

More of Saleh’s men were brought in and questioned—I questioned with them. In the end, I admitted that General Stephenson’s letter asked me, if I was passing Sheikh Saleh’s district, to tell him that arms and ammunition were awaiting him at Wadi Halfa; but that I had nothing to do with the sale of them, was proved by my arriving after they had been taken over, and my papers would show that I had not sold them to him, and that I was not going to collect the money for them, |49| as they believed. The remainder of that conference is only a haze to me now, but I remember that later the same day I was told that Nejoumi, pressed by the other Emirs, had, in order to elicit the truth by frightening the others, ordered the execution of fourteen of the Arabs who had joined us at Wadi Halfa. Emin, my guide, for some reason or another which I never discovered, was ordered to be executed at the same time, and was first to be beheaded. My surmises upon this incident had better be left to my next chapter.

On the following morning, the Amin Beit-el-Mal ordered me to get ready to attend a “fantasia” which Wad en Nejoumi had arranged, and at which he had ordered me to be present; but, being his prisoner, I must appear as one, for which purpose a light ring and chain was placed on my neck, and a light chain fastened to my ankles. On arrival at Nejoumi’s place, I found the Kadi trying to persuade Darb es Safai and about twelve or thirteen of Saleh’s men to become Mahdists. Darb es Safai was their spokesman. They scorned the exhortations of the Kadi, and heaped on his head whatever insults they could. Nejoumi was present, and to him Darb es Safai said, “We have ridden behind our master, Sheikh Saleh, and we refuse to follow you on foot as slaves; we have come here to die—let us die.” Being told that if they persisted in their stubbornness they would be killed, Darb es Safai repeated, “We have come to die—let us die.” I was then removed to a small mud hut, told to sit down, and here hundreds of the populace came to see me, flinging at me all the abuse their rich language is |50| capable of, striving with each other to excel in virulence. Darb es Safai and the others had been marched off a short distance, and set to dig a shallow trench; when this was finished, they were ordered to kneel at its edge, and their hands were tied behind them; this action is practically the declaration of the death sentence. Es Safai asked to be beheaded last, as he wished to see how his men could die. Only one jumped to his feet when a few heads had rolled into the trench, when Es Safai called out, “Kneel down. Do you not see these cowards are looking at us?” This was the “fantasia” I was to have assisted at, but, by some misunderstanding, I was spared the horrible spectacle.

When the executions were over, my chains were removed, and I was again taken before Nejoumi, and questioned as to what property I had in the caravan, and also if I had any slaves. I said I might not possess slaves, but had two servants—Elias, my clerk, and Hasseena, who was a freed slave, and now my female servant. Elias had been cross-examined, but had evidently, in his fright, contradicted himself time after time. First he said he was my clerk, then he was the servant of some Ali Abou Gordi of the Alighat tribe, then trading in the Soudan. Nejoumi told me that, if Elias’s last tale was true, he could not be returned to me, as he must be an enemy. I did my best for Elias, telling Nejoumi that he was a good clerk and good writer, and that he might be very useful to him in writing letters. Hasseena was brought in and protested that she was my slave, not my servant; |51| that I had bought her, but, as slaves were not allowed by the Government, I had had to give her a shehaada (certificate) declaring her free. Nejoumi made a present of her to one of the men present, and on this Hasseena squatted on the ground and refused to budge. She screamed to Nejoumi that he might, if he chose, marry her himself, but said that whoever her husband might be, he would die the same night, since she knew how to poison people secretly. She knew nothing whatever about poisons, but this remark probably was the reason for her being sent to the Khaleefa, as she might be useful. She was sent back as “property” to the Beit-el-Mal.

My ordeal was not yet over; other chiefs came in, and the conference opened soon developed into a heated, if not acrimonious, discussion and dispute. I did not know Soudani sufficiently to follow all that was said, besides which three or four were speaking rapidly at the same time; but I gathered that Nejoumi wished to keep me by him, as he believed that I might be made useful in signing letters which my clerk would have to write. The others, believing the girl’s translation of the letter, were for despatching me to the next world, and sending my head as a gruesome present to the commandant at Wadi Halfa, accompanied by the supposed “firman.” It is not a pleasant experience to sit down and hear your fate being discussed, conscious that the sentence will be carried out immediately. No criminal ever scanned the face of a jury on its return to court as I did those of my savage captors, with ears strained to catch every familiar |52| word; and, difficult as it is after all these years to attempt to give a real analysis of one’s feelings then, I can remember gloating over the thought that, if death were the sentence, I would spring at the throat of the first Emir I could reach, with my nails buried in and tearing at the flesh, until a blow would finish all, and so rob the fanatical horde outside of the pleasure of seeing a hated “Turk” publicly executed. That the recollection is no imaginary one may be guessed from the fact that, when I asked about Gabou’s “health” at Assouan after my release, one part of that conjured scene sprang up, and doubtless would have been acted, had Gabou been alive.

Nejoumi only partly won his point—I was to be sent to the Khaleefa. Seven men were sent for, and Hasseena and I placed in their charge. Nejoumi gave me some clothing, and also a hundred dollars from the three hundred taken from me, and we were ordered off that night.