G.A. Henty - With Kitchener in the Soudan - a story of Atbara and Omdurman

The slave came to Gregory's tent at daybreak. "Fatma is praying to Allah for your safety," he said. There was no time for more, for already the tents were being pulled down, and soon the women were hurried away to the rear. Four men surrounded Gregory and led him to the edge of the camp, and there fastened him to the stump of a tree that had been cut off six feet from the ground, the upper portion being used in

the construction of the zareba. Ten or twelve men were similarly fastened in a line with him. These had been detected in trying to sneak away. Gregory had not seen anything of the camp before, and as he was taken along he was astounded at the amount of work that had been done. Everywhere the ground was pitted with deep holes capable of sheltering from fifteen to twenty men. The hedge was a high one, and was formed for the most part of prickly bushes. The position was indeed a formidable one, manned as it was by nearly twenty thousand desperate fighters.

At six o'clock the first gun was fired, and for an hour and a half the camp was swept with shell, shrapnel, and Maxim bullets. Most of the Baggara were lying in the pits. Many, however, walked about calmly, as if in contempt of the fire. More than half of the wretched men bound to the trees were killed. At last the fire of the guns slackened, and on the crest of the position, in a semicircle round the wood, a long line of steadily-marching men appeared. The assault was about to begin. The Dervishes sprang from their hiding-places and lined the trenches behind the zareba. The troops halted and waited. The Maxims moved in front of the British brigade, and then opened fire. A bugle sounded, and the whole line, black and white, advanced like a wall. When within three hundred yards the men knelt down and opened fire in volleys of sections. At the same instant the Dervishes, with difficulty restrained until now, opened fire in return.

The Maxims and the storm of British bullets swept the wood, filling the air with a shower of falling leaves. Gregory murmured a prayer, shut his eyes, and awaited death. Suddenly he felt his ropes slacken and fall from him, and a voice" said, "Drop on your face, master!" Almost mechanically he obeyed, too astonished even to think what was happening; then a body fell across him. "Lie still and don't move, master; they must think you are dead."

"Is it you, Zaki ?" Gregory said, scarcely able, even now, to believe that it was his faithful follower.

" It is I, master. I have been in the camp three days, and have never had a chance of getting near you before."

"Brave fellow! good friend!" Gregory said, and then was silent.

Speech was almost inaudible amid the roar of battle. The pipes of the Camerons could, however, be heard above the din. The men advanced steadily in line, maintaining their excellent volley-firing. The three other regiments, in close order, followed, bearing away farther to the right so as to be able to open fire and advance. On that side the black regiments were advancing no less steadily, and the half-brigade of Egyptians were as eager as any. Steadily and well under control all pushed forward at a run, firing occasionally, but thirsting to get hand to hand with those who had desolated their land, destroyed their villages, and slain their friends.

The British were suffering, but the blacks suffered more, for the volleys of the Camerons kept down the fire of those opposed to them better than the irregular fire of the Soudanese. The latter, however, first reached the zareba, and, regardless of thorns or of fire, dashed through it with triumphant shouts and fell upon the defender's. It was but a minute or two later that the Camerons reached the hedge. Formidable as it looked, it took them but a short time to tear down gaps, through which they rushed, while close behind them the Seaforths, the Lincolns, and the Warwicks were all in, bursting through the low stockade and trenches behind it, and cheering madly. Now from their holes and shelters the Dervishes started up. Brave though they were, the storm that had burst upon them with such suddenness scared them, and none attempted to arrest the course of the Highlanders and red coats. Firing as they ran, the Dervishes made for the river. Many remained in their pits till the last, firing at the soldiers as they rushed past, and meeting their death at the point of the bayonet.

Hotly the troops pursued, often falling into the pits, which were half hidden by thorns and long grass. There was no attempt at regularity in these holes—nothing to show where they were. It was a wild and confused combat. The officers kept their men as well together as it was possible on such ground, but it was sharp work, for from flank and rear, as well as in front, the shots rang out from their hidden foes, and these had to be dispatched as they pushed forward. As the troops burst through, Gregory sprang to his feet, seized a rifle that had dropped from the hands of a Dervish who had fallen close by, and shouting to Zaki "Lie still as if dead!" joined the first line of troops. No questions were asked. Every man's attention was fixed on the work before him, and no thought was given to this white officer, who sprang from they knew not where. He had no cartridges, and the Dervishes did not carry bayonets, but, holding the rifle club-wise, he kept in the front line, falling into pits and climbing out again, engaged more than once with desperate foemen.

Striking and shouting he fought on until the troops reached the river bank, and having cleared all before them, poured volleys into the mass of fugitives crossing its dry bed. Other hordes were seen away to the left, similarly driven out by Lewis's Egyptians, by whom a terrible fire was kept up until the last of the fugitives disappeared in the scrub on the opposite bank, leaving the river bed thickly dotted with dead bodies; while on the right Macdonald's and Maxwell's blacks similarly cleared the wood. Then the Soudanese and whites alike burst into cheers; men shook each other by the hand, while they waved their helmets over their heads. The Soudanese leapt and danced like delighted children. Presently an officer left a group of others who had been congratulating each other on their glorious victory and came up to Gregory.

"May I ask who you are, sir?" he said courteously but coldly.

"Certainly, sir; my name is Hilliard. I have been a captive in the hands of the Dervishes, who, when you attacked, tied me to the stump of a tree as a target for your bullets; and I should certainly have been killed had not a faithful servant of mine, a black, taken the opportunity, when the Dervishes rushed into the trenches and opened fire upon you, to cut my ropes. I have no doubt, sir," he went on, as he saw the officer look somewhat doubtful, "that General Hunter is here. I am known personally to him, and served for a time on his staff."

" That is quite sufficient," the officer said more cordially. " I congratulate you on your escape. I confess it astonished us all when a strange white officer whom none of us knew suddenly joined us. You will find General Hunter somewhere over on the left; he is certain to have led the charge of the Soudanese."

" Thank you! I will go and find him; but first, I must return to where I left my man. He had, of course, the Mahdist's patch on his clothes, and I told him to lie still as if dead till I came for him, as in the melee it would have been impossible for me to have protected him."

Gregory found Zaki still lying where he left him, head downward and arms thrown forward, in so good an imitation of death that he feared for a moment the lad had been shot after he left him. At the sound of his master's voice, however, the native sprang to his feet.