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The River War

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But for all his power and influence he was forced to give way.
The Government which had long ignored the call of honour abroad,
was driven to the Soudan by the cries of shame at home. Lord Hartington,
at that time Secretary of State for War, must be dissociated from the
general censure which his principal colleagues have incurred. He was the
first to recognise the obligation which lay upon the Cabinet, and through
the Cabinet upon the nation, and it was to his influence that the despatch
of the relieving expedition was mainly due. The Commander-in-Chief and the
Adjutant-General, who were fully alive to the critical position at
Khartoum, added their recommendations. But even at the last moment
Mr. Gladstone was induced to sanction the advance only by the belief that
the scale of the operations would be small, and that only a single brigade
would be necessary. The decision was taken forthwith by the Ministry and
announced to the nation. The Adjutant-General, however, asked for a very
different force from what the Government had anticipated, and the single
brigade was expanded into an expedition of ten thousand men, selected from
the whole army.

To reverse the decision was now, however, impossible, and the 'Gordon
Relief Expedition' began. The commander to whom the conduct of the
operations had been entrusted reviewed the situation. He saw himself
confronted with a task which was easy and safe if it were undertaken at
leisure, and which was doubtful and perilous if begun in haste. All the
fruits of a long and successful career were staked on the result, and it
is scarcely wonderful that he declined to be swift and reckless. Shrewdly
estimating the military difficulties, he made his plans for a methodical
and deliberate advance which would leave nothing to luck, and which
resembles in character that afterwards carried out by Sir H. Kitchener.
He excluded the idea of a wild glorious rush which might result
in astonishing success or terrible disaster.

Troops and stores were steadily collected at Wady Halfa and along the Nile.
The new Camel Corps, consisting of four regiments, practised their drills
and evolutions. To pilot the boats up the Cataracts voyageurs were brought
from Canada. At length, when all preparations were complete, the expedition
started. The plan was simple. A strong column of infantry in boats was to
work up the river. In case that should not arrive in time, the Camel Corps
was to strike across the Bayuda Desert from Korti to Metemma. Having
arrived there, a small detachment was to be thrown into Khartoum by
Gordon's steamers to sustain the defence until the arrival of the main body
in March or even April of 1885, when the town could be regularly relieved.

The dramatic character of the enterprise and its picturesque and original
features fascinated the nation, and the advance was watched with
breathless interest. The fortunes of the River Column have been
graphically described by one who played no small part in their attempt.
'The Campaign of the Cataracts' [By Sir William Butler] is a record of
hard and unceasing toil. Day after day the long lines of soldiers hauled
on the tow-ropes or pulled at the oars of the broad-bottomed boats.
Night after night they camped on the banks amid the grim desolation of
the Monassir Desert. Yet their monotonous labours were encouraged by the
knowledge that as soon as the bend of the river at Abu Hamed was reached
the strong north wind would carry them swiftly to Khartoum. And it seemed
a strange and bitter irony that the order to turn back and the news that
all had been in vain was announced to the troops on the very day when
they had cleared the cataracts and were moving forward at five times
their former speed.

The Desert Column started from Korti on the 30th of December.
Their strength did not exceed 1,100 officers and men, but they were
the flower of the army. Dropping their communications, they set forth
along the caravan route towards Metemma. The knowledge which we have
since gained of the resources of the Mahdists enables the peril of
their desperate venture to be fully appreciated. Although the Dervishes
were neither so well armed nor trained as at a later date, they were
nearly as numerous and equally devoid of fear. Their tactics were more
in accordance with modern conditions: their fanaticism was at its height.
The British force, on the other hand, was equipped with weapons scarcely
comparable with those employed in the concluding campaigns. Instead of
the powerful Lee-Metford rifle, with its smokeless powder, its magazine
action, and its absence of recoil, they were armed with the Martini-Henry,
which possessed none of these advantages. In place of the deadly Maxim
there was the Gardner gun--the very gun that jammed at Tamai, and that
jammed again at Abu Klea. The artillery was also in every respect inferior
to that now in general use. Besides all this, the principles of
fire-discipline and of scientific musketry were new, little understood,
and hardly admitted. Nevertheless, the Camel Corps went boldly forward,
and engaged an enemy whose destruction ultimately required the strength
of a better-armed and better-instructed army twelve times as strong.

On the 3rd of January they reached Gakdul Wells. A hundred miles
of their march was accomplished. But they were now delayed by the
necessity of escorting a second column of supplies to Gakdul, and after
that until the arrival of reinforcements which raised their strength to
1,800 of all ranks. The interval was employed in building two small forts
and establishing an advanced depot; nor was it until the 13th that the
march was resumed. The number of camels was not sufficient for the
necessities of the transport. The food of the camels was too poor for the
work they had to perform. By the 16th, however, they had made fifty miles,
and approached the wells of Abu Klea. Here their further advance was
disputed by the enemy.

The news of the advance of the Desert Column had been duly reported
to the Mahdi and his Arab generals. A small party of English, it was said,
with camels and some cavalry, were coming swiftly to the rescue of the
accursed city. Their numbers were few, scarce 2,000 men. How should they
hope to prevail against 'the expected Mahdi' and the conquering Ansar
who had destroyed Hicks? They were mad; yet they should die; not one
should escape. The delay in the advance offered ample opportunity. A great
force of Arabs was concentrated. Slatin relates how several thousand men
under important Emirs were detached from the army before Khartoum
and marched northward eager for the slaughter of 'the enemies of God.'
At Metemma the main strength of the Jaalin tribe was collected.
With the reinforcements from Omdurman the total force of the Arabs
actually at hand was not less than 10,000, and behind were many thousands
more. They permitted the little column to advance until their retreat,
if defeated, was impossible, and then, confident of victory, offered
battle near the wells of Abu Klea.

The Camel Corps remained halted during the morning of the 16th,
and built a small fort, in which they placed their reserve of stores,
and made some arrangement for the reception of wounded. At one o'clock
they moved leisurely forward, passed through the rocky defile which led
into the valley of Abu Klea and bivouacked. Early the next morning
the force moved out in square formation and advanced upon the enemy.
The most savage and bloody action ever fought in the Soudan by British
troops followed. Notwithstanding the numbers and the valour of the Arabs,
that they penetrated the square, and that they inflicted on the troops
a loss of nine officers and sixty-five men killed and nine officers
and eighty-five men wounded--10 percent of the entire force--they were
driven from the field with great slaughter, and the Desert Column
camped at the wells.

On the morning of the 18th they rested, placed their wounded in the
small fort they had built, and buried their dead. In the afternoon they
continued their advance, marched all through the night, and, having
covered twenty-three miles, halted exhausted, almost within sight of
the river, at daylight on the 19th. Meanwhile the enemy had again
collected in great strength, and an effective rifle fire was opened on
the column. Sir Herbert Stewart received the wound of which a few weeks
later he died. The command devolved upon Sir Charles Wilson. The position
was desperate. Water was running short. The Nile was only four miles away;
but the column were impeded by their wounded and stores, and between the
river and the thirsty men lay the Dervish army, infuriated by their losses
and fully aware of the sore straits to which their astonishing enemy
was now reduced.

It now became necessary to divide the small force. Some must remain
to guard the baggage and the wounded; the others must fight their way to
the water. At three o'clock in the afternoon of the 19th, 900 men left the
hastily made zeriba and marched towards the river. Without their camels
or those of the transport they appeared insignificant, a mere speck on
the broad plain of Metemma. The Dervishes hastened to clinch the matter.

The square advances slowly and painfully over the stony ground,
with frequent jerky halts to preserve order and to pick up the wounded.
Little puffs of white smoke dot the distant sandhills. Here and there
a gaudy flag waves defiantly. In front the green tops of the palm-trees
by the Nile tantalise but stimulate the soldiers. On the left the great
mud labyrinth of Metemma stretches indefinitely. Suddenly the firing
stops. The low scrub in front is alive with the swarming figures of
the enemy. All the flags dance forward together. Ragged white figures
spring up in hundreds. Emirs on horses appear as if by magic. Everywhere
are men running swiftly forward, waving their spears and calling upon the
Prophet of God to speed their enterprise. The square halts. The weary men
begin to fire with thoughtful care, The Dervishes drop thickly. On then,
children of the desert! you are so many, they are so few. They are worn
with fatigue and their throats are parched. You have drunk deeply of
the Nile. One rush will trample the accursed under the feet of the
faithful. The charge continues. A bugle sounds in the waiting square.
The firing stops. What is this? They lose heart. Their ammunition is
exhausted. On, then, and make an end. Again the smoke ripples along the
line of bayonets and fire is re-opened, this time at closer range and
with far greater effect. The stubborn grandeur of the British soldier
is displayed by desperate circumstances. The men shoot to hit. The attack
crumples. The Emirs--horse and man--collapse. The others turn and walk--
for they will not run--sullenly back towards the town. The square starts
forward. The road to the river is open. With dusk the water is reached,
and never have victors gained a more longed-for prize. The Nile is won.
Gordon remains.

Sir Charles Wilson, having collected his force, remained three days
by the bank of the Nile before attempting any further advance on Khartoum.
He has explained why this delay was necessary, to the satisfaction of most
military critics. Nor is it easy to believe that men who had made such
splendid efforts would have willingly lost a single moment. On the fourth
day he embarked on two of Gordon's steamers, which awaited the relieving
column, and taking with him twenty British soldiers and a few blue-jackets
set forth towards the Shabluka Gorge and the town that lay beyond. On the
27th of January the rescuers came in sight of Khartoum and under the fire
of the enemy. Many of their perilous adventures seem to belong to romance
rather than to reality: the tiny gimcrack boats struggling with the strong
stream of the cataract, running the gauntlet of the Arab guns, dropping
disconsolately down the river with their terrible news, or wrecked and
stranded on the sandbank; Stuart-Wortley rowing to the camp before Metemma
for help; Beresford starting in the remaining steamer; the bursting of the
boiler by a Dervish shell; Benbow mending it in a single day; Wilson's
rescue and the return to the entrenchment at Gubat. But the scene that
appeals to the imagination above all the others is that where with both
banks ablaze with musketry and artillery, the black smoke pouring through
the shot-holes in the funnels, the water rising in spurts from the bullets,
the men who had come so far and braved so much stared at the palace roof
and, seeing no flag flying, knew that all was over and that they had come
too late.

The news of the Dervish defeats at Abu Klea and Abu Kru impelled the Mahdi
to a desperate venture. The English were but 120 miles away. They were few,
but victorious. It was difficult to say what force could stop such men.
In spite of the wrath of the true God and the valour of Islam they might
prevail. The Mahdi depended on success for existence. The tremendous forces
of fanaticism are exerted only in a forward direction. Retreat meant ruin.
All must be staked on an immediate assault. And, besides, the moment
was ripe. Thus the Arab chiefs reasoned, and wisely resolved to be reckless.
Thus the night of the 25th of January arrived.

The band played as usual in the evening. Gradually the shadows fell
and it became dark. The hungry inhabitants betook themselves to bed. The
anxious but indomitable commander knew that the crisis impended, and knew
also that he was powerless to avert it. Perhaps he slept, satisfied that
he had done his duty; and in the silence of the night the savage enemy
crawled stealthily towards the town. The weary and disheartened sentinels,
weakened by famine and tired of war, maintained a doubtful vigilance along
the ramparts. The subsiding waters of the river had left a bare gap
between the White Nile and the wall. Perhaps there was treachery besides.
On a sudden the loud explosion of musketry broke the stillness of the
night and the slumbers of the people; and with a continual shouting
thousands of Dervishes swarmed through the unprotected space
and entered Khartoum.

One mob of assailants made their way to the palace. Gordon came out
to meet them. The whole courtyard was filled with wild, harlequin figures
and sharp, glittering blades. He attempted a parley. 'Where is your
master, the Mahdi?' He knew his influence over native races. Perhaps he
hoped to save the lives of some of the inhabitants. Perhaps in that
supreme moment imagination flashed another picture before his eyes;
and he saw himself confronted with the false prophet of a false religion,
confronted with the European prisoners who had 'denied their Lord,'
offered the choice of death or the Koran; saw himself facing that savage
circle with a fanaticism equal to, and a courage greater than, their own;
marching in all the pride of faith 'and with retorted scorn'
to a martyr's death.

It was not to be. Mad with the joy of victory and religious frenzy,
they rushed upon him and, while he disdained even to fire his revolver,
stabbed him in many places. The body fell down the steps and lay--
a twisted heap--at the foot. There it was decapitated. The head was
carried to the Mahdi. The trunk was stabbed again and again by the
infuriated creatures, till nothing but a shapeless bundle of torn flesh
and bloody rags remained of what had been a great and famous man and the
envoy of her Britannic Majesty. The blood soaked into the ground,
and left a dark stain which was not immediately effaced. Slatin mentions
that the Arabs used often to visit the place. Ohrwalder went himself,
and more than six weeks after the capture of the town, saw 'black spots'
upon the steps. But they have all since been obliterated.

Such, briefly, is the story of the fall of Khartoum and of the death
of Gordon. The fact that the two steamers arrived only two days after the
capture of the town has given colour to the belief that, but for the three
days' delay at Metemma, the catastrophe might have been averted. This view
appears incorrect. The Arabs had long held Khartoum at their mercy. They
hoped, indeed, to compel its surrender by famine and to avoid an assault,
which after their experience at El Obeid they knew must cost them dear.
Gordon has stated in his Journals that the town became defenceless by the
middle of December. The arrival of twenty British soldiers and a few
officers could not have materially affected the situation--could only,
in fact, have increased the loss. Yet nearly everyone who reads the tale
will wish--in spite of reason--that some help, however little,
had reached the lonely man; that before the darkness fell he had grasped
an English hand, and learned that his countrymen had not abandoned him,
had not forgotten--would never forget.

It may not be possible as yet to fix the exact place which Charles Gordon
will occupy in English history. It is certainly a high one. Whether he
will rank as a commander with Peterborough, Wolfe, and Olive, those who
come after us must decide. We may, however, assert that he was a man of
stainless honour and enduring courage, who in varied capacities displayed
a fertile and abundant genius. He was careless alike of the honours
and comforts of the world, and looked forward with firm faith to the
rewards of a future state. The severity of his religion did not impair
the amiability of his character. The uncertainty of his moods may have
frequently affected the soundness of his opinions, but not often the
justice of his actions. Gordon's statue, set up in the indignant grief
of the nation in the space which is appropriated to the monuments of
Great Captains by sea and land, claims the attention of the passer-by,
not only because it is comparatively new. The figure, its pose, and its
story are familiar even to the poorest citizens of London and to people
from all parts of the United Kingdom. Serene amid the noise of
the traffic, as formerly in that of the battle, the famous General
seems still, with bowed head and thoughtful countenance, to revolve
the problems of the dark Soudan and, inattentive to the clamour of men,
inquires what is acceptable to God.

With the capture of the city and the death of the envoy
the reason for the expedition disappeared. It remained only to withdraw
the troops. The stores which had been brought across the desert at a
terrible cost were thrown hastily into the Nile. The battered steamers
which had waited so long at Metemma were hurriedly dismantled. The Camel
Corps, their extraordinary efforts futile and their camels killed,
marched back on foot to Korti. Their retreat was pressed by the exultant
enemy. The River Column, whose boats after months of labour had just
cleared the Cataracts, and who had gained a success at Kirbekan, were
carried back swiftly by the strong current against which they had
hopefully struggled. The whole Expeditionary Force--Guards, Highlanders,
sailors, Hussars, Indian soldiers, Canadian voyageurs, mules, camels, and
artillery--trooped back forlornly over the desert sands, and behind them
the rising tide of barbarism followed swiftly, until the whole vast region
was submerged. For several months the garrison of Kassala under a gallant
Egyptian maintained a desperate resistance, but at last famine forced them
to surrender, and they shared the fate of the garrisons of El Obeid,
Darfur, Sobat, Tokar, Sinkat, Sennar, and Khartoum. The evacuation
of the Soudan was thus completed.




CHAPTER III: THE DERVISH EMPIRE



It might seem at first a great advantage that the peoples of the Soudan,
instead of being a multitude of wild, discordant tribes, should unite of
their own accord into one strong community, actuated by a common spirit,
living under fixed laws, and ruled by a single sovereign. But there is one
form of centralised government which is almost entirely unprogressive
and beyond all other forms costly and tyrannical--the rule of an army.
Such a combination depends, not on the good faith and good will of its
constituents, but on their discipline and almost mechanical obedience.
Mutual fear, not mutual trust, promotes the co-operation of its individual
members. History records many such dominations, ancient and modern,
civilised or barbaric; and though education and culture may modify,
they cannot change their predominant characteristics--a continual
subordination of justice to expediency, an indifference to suffering,
a disdain of ethical principles, a laxity of morals, and a complete
ignorance of economics. The evil qualities of military hierarchies are
always the same. The results of their rule are universally unfortunate.
The degree may vary with time and place, but the political supremacy of
an army always leads to the formation of a great centralised capital,
to the consequent impoverishment of the provinces, to the degradation
of the peaceful inhabitants through oppression and want, to the ruin of
commerce, the decay of learning, and the ultimate demoralisation even of
the military order through overbearing pride and sensual indulgence.

Of the military dominations which history records, the Dervish Empire
was probably the worst. All others have displayed compensating virtues.
A high sense of personal honour has counterbalanced a low standard of
public justice. An ennobling patriotism may partly repair economic
follies. The miseries of the people are often concealed by the
magnificence of the army. The laxity of morals is in some degree excused
by the elegance of manners. But the Dervish Empire developed no virtue
except courage, a quality more admirable than rare. The poverty of the
land prevented magnificence. The ignorance of its inhabitants excluded
refinement. The Dervish dominion was born of war, existed by war, and
fell by war. It began on the night of the sack of Khartoum. It ended
abruptly thirteen years later in the battle of Omdurman. Like a subsidiary
volcano, it was flung up by one convulsion, blazed during the period of
disturbance, and was destroyed by the still more violent shock that ended
the eruption.

After the fall of Khartoum and the retreat of the British armies
the Mahdi became the absolute master of the Soudan. Whatever pleasures he
desired he could command, and, following the example of the founder of the
Mohammedan faith, he indulged in what would seem to Western minds gross
excesses. He established an extensive harem for his own peculiar use,
and immured therein the fairest captives of the war. The conduct of the
ruler was imitated by his subjects. The presence of women increased the
vanity of the warriors: and it was not very long before the patched smock
which had vaunted the holy poverty of the rebels developed into the gaudy
jibba of the conquerors. Since the unhealthy situation of Khartoum amid
swamps and marshes did not commend itself to the now luxurious Arabs,
the Mahdi began to build on the western bank of the White Nile a new
capital, which, from the detached fort which had stood there in Egyptian
days, was called Omdurman. Among the first buildings which he set his
subjects to construct were a mosque for the services of religion,
an arsenal for the storage of military material, and a house for himself.
But while he was thus entering at once upon the enjoyments of supreme
power and unbridled lust, the God whom he had served, not unfaithfully,
and who had given him whatever he had asked, required of Mohammed Ahmed
his soul; and so all that he had won by his brains and bravery became of
no more account to him.

In the middle of the month of June, scarcely five months after the
completion of his victorious campaigns, the Mahdi fell sick. For a few
days he did not appear at the mosque. The people were filled with alarm.
They were reassured by remembering the prophecy that their liberator
should not perish till he had conquered the earth. Mohammed, however, grew
worse. Presently those who attended him could doubt no longer that he was
attacked by typhus fever. The Khalifa Abdullah watched by his couch
continually. On the sixth day the inhabitants and the soldiers were
informed of the serious nature of their ruler's illness, and public
prayers were offered by all classes for his recovery. On the seventh day
it was evident that he was dying. All those who had shared his fortunes--
the Khalifas he had appointed, the chief priests of the religion he had
reformed, the leaders of the armies who had followed him to victory,
and his own family whom he had hallowed--crowded the small room. For some
hours he lay unconscious or in delirium, but as the end approached he
rallied a little, and, collecting his faculties by a great effort,
declared his faithful follower and friend the Khalifa Abdullah his
successor, and adjured the rest to show him honour. 'He is of me,
and I am of him; as you have obeyed me, so you should deal with him.
May God have mercy upon me!' [Slatin, FIRE AND SWORD.]
Then he immediately expired.

Grief and dismay filled the city. In spite of the emphatic prohibition
by law of all loud lamentations, the sound of 'weeping and wailing arose
from almost every house.' The whole people, deprived at once of their
acknowledged sovereign and spiritual guide, were shocked and affrighted.
Only the Mahdi's wives, if we may credit Slatin, 'rejoiced secretly in
their hearts at the death of their husband and master,' and, since they
were henceforth to be doomed to an enforced and inviolable chastity,
the cause of their satisfaction is as obscure as its manifestation was
unnatural. The body of the Mahdi, wrapped in linen, was reverently
interred in a deep grave dug in the floor of the room in which he had died,
nor was it disturbed until after the capture of Omdurman by the British
forces in 1898, when by the orders of Sir H. Kitchener the sepulchre was
opened and the corpse exhumed.

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