# A Prisoner of the Khaleefa/Chapter 6

Contents
CHAPTER VI
DONGOLA TO OMDURMAN
During the early part of the night of April 27, the Amin Beit-el-Mal told me to prepare for my journey to Omdurman, as Wad Nejoumi had sent for me. There was little preparation I could make, except to beg some sesame oil to rub over my face, shoulders, back, and feet. The woollen shirt and clothing I had been allowed had not been sufficient to protect me against the burning rays of the sun, and the skin was peeling away from my face, shoulders and back, while my feet were blistered and cut. My stockings had been worn through in a day's tramping through the sand. Taken to Nejoumi's enclosure, Nejoumi and I sat together talking for a considerable time. He told me that he had wished to keep me by him for the purposes of "akhbar" (information, or news), but that the other Emirs had insisted upon my being killed at once, or sent to the Khaleefa with the supposed "firman" appointing me "The Pasha of the Western Soudan," to be dealt with by the Khaleefa at Omdurman. Nejoumi said he had written asking that I should be sent back to him. He put to me many ​
​questions about the Government, the fortifications of Cairo and Alexandria, Assouan, Korosko and Wadi Halfa, and in particular he was anxious to know all about the British army and "Ingleterra." The advance up the Nile for the relief of Gordon had evidently given him a very poor opinion of our means of transport, at least as regards rapidity of movement, for when I told him of the distance between Alexandria and England, and assured him that steamers could bring in a large army in a week's time, he smiled and said, "I am not a child, to tell me a tale like that." He may or may not have gone to his grave believing that I was romancing, when I described to him what an ocean-going steamer was like, and did my best to give him some idea of the proportions of a Nile Dahabieh compared with an ocean-going steamer and a man-of-war.
I left him firmly impressed with the idea, and this impression was only intensified months later when a number of his chief men were ordered back to Omdurman and thrown into prison with me, that had Nejoumi had any one in whom he could repose his confidence and absolute trust in such a delicate matter, he would have sent in his submission to the Government, and laying hands upon the Emirs sent by the Khaleefa to spy upon him — for he was then under suspicion — would have led his army as "friendlies" to Wadi Halfa, and have asked assistance to enable him to turn the tables on the Khaleefa. What further leads me to make such a bold assertion or statement is that the Emirs, or chief men, referred to already as having ​been thrown into prison with me at Omdurman, gave me, as their fellow-captive, first their sympathy, and then their complete confidence. I learned from them the fate of those of Saleh's caravan whom I had left alive at Dongola. They had, they told me, been executed in batches of varying numbers at intervals of some days, Elias my clerk being the last to be executed, and he not being executed until about two months after my departure from Dongola. Nejoumi, for reasons which will be at once seen, kept him alive to the last, and then doubtless only gave the order for his execution when, despairing of my being sent back to him, he gave way to the importunities of the other Emirs anxious to see the last of Saleh's people executed.
From what they confided to me, there could not be the slightest doubt that a conviction of the imposture of the Mahdi's successor was growing and spreading amongst the Mahdists; but the system of espionage instituted by the Khaleefa nipped in the bud any outward show of it. There can be also no doubt that these confidants of Nejoumi had, in some way, compromised themselves when speaking in the presence of some of the Khaleefa's agents, and that Nejoumi himself had only not been ordered back with them because of his popularity and the Khaleefa's fear and jealousy of him. There was no one whom Nejoumi, or, for the matter of that, any one — not even excepting the Khaleefa himself, might implicitly trust in the Soudan. The man to whom you gave your innermost confidences might be friend or foe, and as all changed face as rapidly and constantly as ​circumstances dictated, it would be safe to say that no one in the Soudan for a single moment trusted any one else.
Whatever Nejoumi's convictions may have been in the earlier days of the Mahdist movement, it is certain that they underwent a great change. Indeed, his advance against the Egyptian Army at Toski, when he was killed, was, as I was told by some of his people imprisoned with me after their return, only undertaken when he was goaded to it by the reproaches of the Khaleefa, accusing him of cowardice and treachery, accompanied with threats of recalling him to Omdurman — and Nejoumi knew well what this implied.
In the last chapter I remarked that I would later offer some surmises as to the reason why my guide Amin was the first to be executed at Dongola, and it would be well to insert them here, while speaking of my fellow-prisoners from Nejoumi's army. Though they could not be positive on the point, they were certain that Amin's two or three passages-at-arms with the guide Hassan had been related to the assembled Emirs at Dongola immediately after our arrival, and Amin was in consequence ordered to be at once executed. I expressed my suspicions as to the actual death of Hassan at El Kab, and in face of what I was told, I cannot help but believe that his falling from the camel was an arranged affair, and that he came with the caravan to Dongola, and gave evidence against Amin. Following up this suspicion or supposition, it is very probable that he originated the "cockand-bull" story related to the military authorities, ​detailing the supposed incidents of the capture of Saleh's caravan and myself. It will not have been forgotten that the published official and semi-official records report my capture at two different places a hundred and fifty miles apart, or, in other words, a minimum of five days' journey, and at different dates, — in one instance announcing my arrival at Omdurman as a captive one month before the caravan which I was supposed to have betrayed — or been the cause of the capture of through "imprudence" — had even started from Wadi Halfa.
In the early morning of April 28, I and Hasseena were taken outside the town to where the guards and camels were awaiting us, and setting off on our journey, travelled through Hannak, Debbeh, Abou Gussi, and Ambukol. The incidents connected with our appearance at these places are not of sufficient interest to warrant my detaining my readers with them. From Ambukol we struck into the desert, making for the Nile at Gebel Roiyan, enduring the inevitable discomforts and privations of such a journey. On arrival at the village near Gebel Roiyan, we took possession of what we believed to be a deserted house, and, after taking a little food, lay down to sleep. During the night a wretched old woman crept into my room, and commenced that peculiar wailing known to those who have been in the East. She was, she said, "El umm Khashm-el-Mus" (the mother of Khashm-el-Mus — but the expression may be taken to imply merely that she was one of Khashm-el-Mus's family or relatives), whom Gordon had sent with gunboats to Metemmeh to, ​accompany Sir Charles Wilson on his voyage to Khartoum. Her sons, the whole of her family (or tribe), had been killed by the Khaleefa's order, and, as far as she knew, she was the only one left. Taking no notice of my guards, who had come in, attracted by the wailing and talking, she cursed the Mahdi, and every thing and every one connected with him. The wailings of the poor creature, her pinched, sunken cheeks, her glistening eyes, her skinny, hooked fingers, her vehement curses on the Mahdi and Khaleefa, and the faint glow from the charcoal embers which only served to outline the form of the old woman as some horrid spectre as she stood up and prophesied my death, completely unnerved me. If there was one night in my life upon which I required a few hours' rest it was on this — the last, as I] knew, before my entering Omdurman. But no sleep came to my eyes that night. Soon after the woman left, a sound of dull thuds, a shriek, a moan, and then silence told its own tale. She had been battered to death with curses on the Mahdi on her lips:
The night was one long, horrible, wakening nightmare, but all was real and not a fantasy of the brain: How I longed for the dawn! and how impatiently I waited for it! For the first time I had fears for my reason. "The sensation I felt was as if a cord had been slipped round my brain, and was gradually but surely tightening. But enough of this; it is not necessary to interlard my experiences with painful mental sensations, real as they were.
It was with some little difficulty that I shuffled my ​way to the camels next morning, to mount and get away on our last stage of the journey to Omdurman. We reached the town at noon, on Thursday, May 5, and passed in almost unnoticed until we reached the market-place, when the news having spread like wildfire, we were soon surrounded by thousands of people, and it was with the greatest difficulty we fought our way to the open praying-ground adjoining the burial-place of the Mahdi. (The tomb had not then been built.) Here I was placed in the shade of the rukooba. (The rukooba is a light structure of poles supporting a roof of matting and palm branches, in the shade of which the people rest during the heat of the day.) Two of my guards went off to deliver Wad Nejoumi's despatches to the Khaleefa, and also to announce my arrival.
Shortly afterwards, Nur Angara, Slatin, Mohammad Taher, and the chief Kadi, with others, came to question me. Slatin addressed a few words to me in English, but not understanding him, I asked him to speak in German, upon which he said in an undertone, "Be polite; tell them you have come to join the Mahdieh in order to embrace the Mahdi's religion; do not address me." Nur Angara, who put the majority of the questions, asked, "Why have you come to Omdurman?" I hesitated a little before replying, but did not hesitate long enough to allow my European blood to cool sufficiently to reply "politely" to the imperious black confronting me: told him, "Because I could not help myself; when I left Wadi Halfa it was to go and trade and not fight, ​but your people have taken me prisoner, and sent me here; why do you ask me that question?" Slatin at this moved behind the other Emirs, and I believe made some attempt to make me understand that I should speak differently to them: My helplessness was galling to me; there was not a man there whom, pulled down as I was, I could not with sheer strength have crushed the life out of.
I was questioned about the number of troops at Wadi Halfa and Cairo, the fortifications, etc., but neither places would have recognized the fortresses I invented for the occasion, and the numbers of troops with which I invested them. When told that news had been received from Wad Nejoumi that the British troops were leaving, I admitted the truth of this, but said that they could all be brought back to Wadi Halfa in four days. All the questions, or nearly all, were in connection with the army and the movement of the troops, and this will be understood when it is remembered that, by some, I was believed to be "Pasha," and all Pashas in the Soudan were military leaders.
I have been shown a statement to the effect that my readiness to talk "made a bad impression," but this remark was not, at the time of writing, sufficiently explanatory — and yet it may have been. Other captives had grovelled at the feet of their captors; I did not, hence probably the "bad impression" created; and while the world may blame me for being so injudicious as to treat my powerful captors with such scant courtesy, it can hardly be expected that I, even had I not passed ​six years in close connection with the British Army on the field of battle, and in times of comparative peace, should in a moment forget and lose my manhood, and cover with servile kisses the hands of a savage black — and one of the murderers of Gordon to boot. I thank God, now that I am restored to "life," that my first appearance as the Khaleefa's captive "made a bad impression," for even in this I choose to accept an evidence that I was not what I have in some instances been represented as being.
On the Emirs and others leaving me, some dervishes advanced, stripped me of the jibbeh and clothes given me by Nejoumi, replacing them with a soldier's old jersey and cotton drawers. My feet were next fettered, and a ring, with a long heavy chain attached, was fastened round my neck. During that evening — indeed, during the whole night, crowds came to look at me, while the ombeyeh (war-trumpet made from a hollowed tusk) was sounded the whole night through. A woman, a sort of Mahdist amazon, walked and danced up and down in front of me, singing and gesticulating, but I could not catch the full meaning of her words. Noticing Hasseena sobbing violently a few yards away, I called to her, and asked what was the matter with her. She told me that the ombeyeh was calling up the followers of the prophet to come and witness my execution, and that the woman, in her rude rhyme, was describing my death agonies, and my subsequent tortures in hell as an unbeliever. One of my guards told me that what Hasseena had related was true, and I had curiosity enough to ask him the ​details of an execution; these having been described to me, I refused food and drink. I was determined to deprive the fanatics of one looked-for element connected with my execution — but I may not enter into details.
At dawn the following morning, a dervish came to me, and crossing my right hand over the left at the wrists, palms downward, proceeded to bind them together with a rope made of palm fibre. When the ropes had, with a bit of wood used as a tourniquet, been drawn well into the flesh, water was poured over them. The agony as the ropes swelled was excruciating; they "bit" into the flesh, and even now I cannot look at the scars on my hands without a shudder, and almost experiencing again the same sensations as those of twelve years ago.
With the perspiration rolling off me with the pain I was enduring, and no longer able to conceal that I was suffering, I was led forth to be the sport of the rabble. Made to stand up in the open space, bareheaded, with thousands around me, I believed the moment for my decapitation had come, and muttering a short prayer, I knelt down and bent my head, but was at once pulled to my feet again; the populace wanted their sport out of me first. Dervishes rushed at me prodding with spears and swords, and while this was going on, two men, one on each side of me, with the mouths of their ombeyehs placed against my ears, blew their loudest blasts. One powerful man in particular, with a large spear, gave me the idea that it was he who had been told to give the final ​thrust, and when he had made a number of feints, I tried in successive ones to meet the thrust. One of the men guarding me, taking the chain attached to the — ring round my neck, pulled me back each time, much to the delight of the assembled people.
The ropes with which I was bound had now done their work; the swollen skin gave way, and the horrible tension was removed as the ropes sank into the flesh. If I had exhibited any feeling of pain before, I was now as indifferent to it as I was to the multitude around me. A messenger of the Khaleefa, Ali Gulla, asked me, "Have you heard the ombeyehs?" — a bit of the Khaleefa's supposed pleasantry, when it was by his orders that the mouths of the instruments had been placed against my ears. On nodding my reply, Gulla continued, "The Khaleefa has sent me to tell you that he has decided to behead you," to which I replied, "Go back to your Khaleefa, and tell him that neither he nor fifty Khaleefas may so much as remove a hair from my head without God's permission. If God's will it is, then my head shall be cut off, but it will not be because the Khaleefa wills it." He went to the Khaleefa with this message, and returned saying, "The Khaleefa has changed his mind; your head is not to be cut off; you are to be crucified as was your prophet Aisse en Nebbi" (Jesus the Prophet); after saying which, he told my guards to take me back to the rukooba while preparations were made.
By this time, what with the fatigue and privations on the journey, my head almost splitting as the result of the ombeyeh's blasts, the agony caused by the ​ropes binding my wrists, and the torture of scores of small irritating and stinging flies attacking the raw flesh of my hands, and the sun beating down on my bare head, I was about to faint. An hour later, I was ordered off to the place of crucifixion; being heavily chained, I was unable to walk, so had to be placed upon a donkey, on which I was held up by two men. On coming to a halt, instead of the crucifix I had expected, I found a set of gallows. I was lifted from the donkey and placed close to the "angareeb," with the noose dangling just over my head. Pain and faintness at once left me. A few minutes more would end all, and I had made up my mind that that horde should respect me even in my death. I tried to mount the angareeb, but my chains prevented me. A tall black (the chief Kadi of the Khaleefa), placing his hand on my arm, said, "The Khaleefa is gratified at your courage, and, to show this, offers you the choice of the manner of your death." I replied, "Go back to your Khaleefa, and tell him that he may please himself as to what form my death comes in, only if he wishes to do me a favour, be quick about it; the sun burns my brain." To which the Kadi replied, "You will be dead in a few minutes; what will you die as, as a Muslim or a Kaffr?" I was growing desperate, and answered at the top of my voice, "Ed Deen mush hiddm terrayer nahaarda ou Bookra" (Religion is not a dress to be put on to-day and thrown off to-morrow).
My reply, and the manner in which I gave it, I was gratified to see, made him angry. While we were still talking, a man on horseback made his way through ​the crowd to us, and spoke to the Kadi, who, turning to me, said, "Be happy, there is no death for you; the Khaleefa, in his great mercy, has pardoned you." To which I asked, "Why? Have I asked for his pardon?" for I did not believe for a moment that such was actually the case. I was at once bundled on to the donkey, however, and taken back to the rukooba. Some one had reported to the Khaleefa about the state of my hands, and a man was sent at once with orders to have the ropes removed. Food in abundance was sent me, but this I gave to the ombeyeh men who had escorted me back to the rukooba, and I could even then smile at one of the men who complained that he could not enjoy the food, as his lips — great thick black ones they were, too — were as raw with blowing the ombeyeh all night as my hands were with the ropes.
On the following day I was taken before the Kadis, with whom was the Khaleefa and Slatin. I was asked, "Why have you come to Omdurman?" to which I gave the same reply as I had given to Nur Angara. The letter of General Stephenson was exhibited to me, and I was asked, "Is this your firman?" to which I replied that it was no firman, but a letter from a friend about business, and that it had nothing to do with the Government. Slatin was told to translate it, but, fortunately, did not translate it all. On his being asked his opinion of me, he told the Khaleefa that from the papers found in my wallet, I appeared to be a German and not an Englishman, but that I had the permission of the English Government ​
​to go to Kordofan on merchant's business. He also said that Sheikh Saleh's name was mentioned, but only in connection with business of no consequence. I was then asked if I wished to send any message to my family. Naturally I did, and pen and paper being given me, I commenced a letter in German to my manager at Assouan; but, after a few lines had been written, the Khaleefa said the letter had better be written in Arabic. The letter, when finished, was handed to me to sign; but, not knowing the contents, I scrawled under the signature, as a flourish, "All lies," or something to this effect.
The letter was sent down by one of the Khaleefa's spies, and was delivered to the Commandant at Assouan. The word "Railway" appearing as part of the address, it was sent to Mankarious Effendi, the stationmaster, who, after taking a copy of it for reference, returned it to the commandant, with the address of my manager. Mankarious Effendi, having heard of my recent arrival in Cairo, has come to me with the original copy of the letter taken in June, 1887. The following is a literal translation of it:—
"From the servant of his lord Abdallah el Muslimani the Prussian whose former name was Charles Neufeld, to my manager Möller the Prussian in the Railway Assouan.
"I inform you that after departing from you I have come to the Soudan with the men of Saleh Fadlallah Salem el Kabbashi, who were carrying with them the arms and ammunition and other articles sent to Saleh by the Government.
It is only now, November 25, 1898, that Mankarious has placed me in possession of the real details. My manager, who when he returned to Egypt a few ​weeks ago, on hearing of my release, denied ever having received any communication from me, on August 6, 1887, addressed a letter to my father, written on my own business paper, saying that he had received the above letter, had had it translated, and communicated to the Egyptian Gazette, which paper published the letter in its issue of August.
Slatin I saw but once again during my long captivity, and then it was only in the distance on one occasion when he called at the prison to give some orders to the head-gaoler. The Khaleefa I saw twice again, on occasions to be referred to later.
After signing the letter, I was taken back to the rukooba, where, about sunset, a man carrying a long chain came to me and said he had orders to remove my fetters. Passing the chain through one of the anklets and round one of the posts, he took a short pole, and used this as a lever to force the anklets open. Whilst still engaged in removing the chains, the chief Kadi came in, and ordered the anklets to be hammered back again, and the ends cold welded.
I remained in the rukooba for the night, and the following morning was placed upon a donkey and taken to the prison. I was told that, to save my life, Slatin had suggested this course being taken, using as an argument that I could there be converted to the Mohammedan religion, and devote all my time to my instructors.