# A Prisoner of the Khaleefa/Chapter 16

Contents
CHAPTER XVI
HOPE AND DESPAIR
While still a prisoner in the Saier, Mankarious Effendi, with Mohammad Fargoun and Selim Aly, engaged a man of the Ababdeh, Mohammad Ajjab, to make his way to Omdurman with a threefold object: he was to inquire if I was still alive; if so, to pay me a hundred dollars, and then to try and make arrangements for my escape. On arrival in Omdurman, Ajjab met two of his own people — Mohammad and Karrar Beshir — who recommended him, when he inquired about me, never to mention my name if he wished to keep his head on his shoulders. They could only tell him that I was still in prison, chained, and under sentence of death. Similar information and the same recommendation were given to him by people in the Muslimanieh quarter; but a Greek whom Ajjab knew only by his Mahdieh name of Abdallah, said that he would arrange for a meeting between him and my servant. Through Hasseena, Ajjab sent me word of the object of his coming to Omdurman. As the Greek offered to become my trustee, Ajjab handed him the hundred dollars, taking from him a receipt, and sending ​the receipt to me concealed in a piece of bread, to be countersigned. Ajjab was to return to Assouan, let my friends know how matters stood, and tell them that I would try and communicate with them, if I ever got released from prison, as escape from the prison was an impossibility. Ajjab returned to Assouan, and handed over the receipt; but the tale he had to tell put an end, for the time being, to any attempts to assist me further.
When Father Ohrwalder escaped, bringing with him the two sisters and negress, Mankarious set about immediately to find some reliable messenger willing to undertake the journey to Omdurman with a view of ascertaining if my escape was at all possible. He argued that if Father Ohrwalder could escape with three women as an encumbrance to his flight, there was nothing, provided I was at liberty, to prevent my escaping; but those who knew the Soudan — and it was only such he might employ — argued that if the remainder of the captives were not already killed, they would be found chained in the prison awaiting their execution. Months slipped away before he could find any one to undertake the journey, and then an old but wiry desert Arab, El] Haj Ahmad Abou Hawanein, came to terms with him. Hawanein was given two camels, some money, and a quantity of goods to sell and barter on his way up.
Some time in June or July, 1894, Abou Kees, a man employed in the Mission gardens, came to me while I was working at the mounds of Khartoum, and whispered that a man who had news for me was ​hiding in the gardens, and that I was to try and effect a meeting with him. The man was Hawanein. Always suspicious of traps laid for me by the Khaleefa, I asked the man what he wanted. He replied that he had come from friends to help me. He had brought no letters, but by questioning him my suspicions disappeared, and I was soon deep in the discussion of plans for my escape. The camels he had brought with him were, he said, not up to the work of a rapid flight, and he suggested that he should return to Assouan, procure two good trotting camels, and also the couple of revolvers I asked for, as it was more than likely I should have to use them in getting clear of Khartoum.
Soon after Hawanein's departure, the guide Abdallah, who brought away Rossignoli, put in his appearance. Ahmed Wad-el-Feki, employed in Marquet's old garden, asked that I might be allowed to call and see a sick man at his house. On reaching the place, Feki introduced me to a young man, Abdallah, who, after a few words, asked me to meet him the following day, when he would bring me a letter. I met my "patient" again, when he handed me a bit of paper on which faint marks were discernible; these, he said, would come out clear upon heating the paper, and, as cauterization is one of the favourite remedies in the Soudan, some live charcoal was procured without exciting any suspicion. The words, which appeared, proved that the man was no spy, but had really come from the Egyptian War Office; however, before we had time to drop into a discussion of plans, some men employed in the place ​came near, and we had to adjourn to the following day, when I was again to meet my "patient." On this occasion we were left undisturbed, and fully discussed and settled upon our plans.
To escape along the western bank of the Nile was not to be thought of; this would necessitate our passing Omdurman, and to pass the town unobserved was very improbable. Abdallah, having left his camels and rifle at Berber, was to return there for them, and come up the eastern bank of the Nile, along which we were to travel when I escaped. During his absence I was to send Umm es Shole on weekly visits to her friends at Halfeyeh; as she was to escape with us, this arrangement was made for a twofold purpose. First, her visits would not excite suspicion at the critical moment, as the people both at Halfeyeh and Khartoum would have become accustomed to them; she was also to bring me the promised revolver concealed in her clothes, and then return to Halfeyeh for another visit. She and Abdallah would keep a watch on the banks of the Blue Nile for me and assist me in landing. My escape would have to be effected in my chains, and these, of course, would prevent my using my legs in swimming. I was to trust for support to the pieces of light wood on the banks, used by children and men when disporting themselves in the Nile, and to the current and whatever help I might get with my hands for landing on the opposite shore.
Abdallah went off, but never came back. I kept to our agreement for months, for the plan formed with ​Abdallah was similar to that arranged with Hawanein. Besides this, Abdallah, in the event of not being able to find revolvers at Berber, was to continue his journey to the first military post, obtain them there, and exchange his camels for fast-trotting ones, as those he had left at Berber were of a poor race. In order to prove to any officer he met that he was really employed to effect my escape, I gave him two letters couched in such words that, should they fall into the hands of the Khaleefa or any of the Emirs, their contents would be a sort of puzzle to them. Each day during those months I looked forward eagerly to a sign from any one of the people entrusted with my escape.
For various reasons I considered it advisable to interview Abdallah after my release, and did so; but to make certain of his explanations, I also arranged that others should question him on the subject of Rossignoli's flight and his reasons for not keeping his engagement with me, and this is what he says.
On leaving Cairo, he was given a sort of double mission; he was promised three hundred pounds if he brought me away safely, and a hundred pounds if he brought away any of the other captives. Seeing the difficulties to be encountered in effecting my escape, and appreciating the risks, unless we had revolvers and swift camels, he decided upon "working out the other plan," as he expresses it, viz. the escape of Rossignoli, as "he was at liberty and could go anywhere he pleased," whilst I was shackled and constantly under the eyes of my guards. Instead of returning ​for the camels, Abdallah arranged for Rossignoli to escape on a donkey as far as Berber. When some distance from Omdurman, Rossignoli got off his donkey, squatted on the ground, and refused to budge, saying he was tired. Abdallah tried to persuade him to continue the journey, but Rossignoli refused, said Abdallah was only leading him to his death, and demanded to be taken back to Omdurman. For a few moments Abdallah admits that he was startled and frightened. To go back to Omdurman was madness and suicide for him; to leave Rossignoli squatting in the desert made Cairo almost as dangerous for him as Omdurman, for who would believe his tale there? He felt sure he would be accused of having deserted the man, and there was also the chance of Rossignolli being discovered by pursuers, when a hue and cry would be set up for Abdallah.
One cannot help but admire Abdallah's solution of the difficulty. There was a tree growing close by; he selected from it a good thick branch, and with this flogged Rossignoli either into his right senses or into obedience to orders; then placing him on the camel behind him, he made his way to Berber. Here Rossignoli, instead of keeping in hiding, wandered into the town, was recognized by some people, and, when spoken to, told them that Abdallah was leading him to Egypt, but that he preferred to return to Omdurman. Fortunately native cupidity saved Abdallah; he baksheeshed the people into a few hours of silence, with great difficulty got his charge clear of the town, and with still greater difficulty ​hammered and "bullydamned" him into Egypt and safety. This is Abdallah's own tale. He assures me, and I believe him, that it was his intention, as soon as he had handed over Rossignoli safe, to have asked for the revolvers and started back to try and effect my escape, risky as he knew it to be; but as Rossignoli had betrayed his name in Berber, he knew well that the Khaleefa would have men waiting for him from Omdurman to the frontier, and he showed no better sense in flogging Rossignoli, than he showed in settling down with his well-earned hundred pounds rather than attempting to make it into four hundred by passing the frontier.
Rossignoli's absence was not noticed for a little time, and fortunately, for a donkey leaves better tracks to follow than a camel. The Khaleefa was not particularly angry about the affair, although he imprisoned for a day Mr. Cocorombo, the husband of Sister Grigolini, the former superioress of Father Ohrwalder's Mission, and Rossignoli's lay companion, Beppo; but the latter, after Slatin's escape, became my fellowprisoner in the Saier.
One would be inclined to believe that either myself Or some dramatist had purposely invented the series of accidents, which cropped up to frustrate every one of my plans for escape. On February 28, 1895, without a word of warning, I was so heavily loaded with chains that I was unable to move, and I was placed under a double guard in the house of Shereef Hamadan, the Mahdist Governor of Khartoum. At first I surmised that either Abdallah or Hawanein ​had been suspected and imprisoned, or had confessed, or that our plots had been divulged in some way, so that it was with no little surprise I heard the questions put to me concerning the escape of Slatin. I denied all knowledge of the escape, or any arrangement connected with it. I pointed out that I had not seen, spoken to, or heard of Slatin directly for eight years, as my gaolers and guards could prove. It was from no sense of justice to me, but to prove that he had not neglected his duty in keeping a strict watch upon me, that Hamadan took my part in the inquiry. I might have been again released, had Hawanein not put in his appearance a few days after the escape of Slatin was discovered.
Slatin's absence from his usual post had not been reported to the Khaleefa until three days after his escape; he was supposed to be ill. On the third day, Hajji Zobheir, the head of the Khaleefa's bodyguard, sent to his house to inquire about him. Not being satisfied with the reply he received, he informed the Khaleefa, who ordered an immediate search. A letter from Slatin to the Khaleefa was found sticking in the muzzle of a rifle, and was taken to Abdullahi. After the usual string of compliments and blessings, the letter continues —
Abdullahi, on first realizing that Slatin had actually escaped, and had had about three days' start of any pursuers he might send after him, was furious; losing his temper, he anathematized him in the presence of the assembled Emirs, Kadis, and bodyguard. He reminded them that when Slatin first tendered his submission, he had been received with honours because he had openly professed the Mohammedan faith and had been circumcised while still the "Turk" Governor-General of Darfur; he reminded them also how Slatin had been allowed to bring into the camp his household, bodyguard, and servants, and had been attached to the Mahdi's personal suite, of which he, Abdullahi, was chief; how, with Zoghal, his former subordinate, he had been entrusted with the subjugation of Said Gumaa, who had refused to surrender El Fasher when ordered by him to do so; how he himself had treated him as his son and his confidant, never taking any step without his advice and guidance; but, suddenly pulling himself up, seeing the mistake he had made in showing how much he had been dependent on him, he broke off short to say what he would do to Slatin if he ever laid hands on him, and promised a similar punishment to any one else who returned him ingratitude for his favours. Reading ​out aloud Slatin's letter to him, he calmed down on reaching the protestations of loyalty, and ordered the letter to be read in the mosque and the different quarters of Omdurman. Abdullahi has been considered as an ignorant brutal savage, devoid of all mental acumen, and but little removed from the brute creation. As I may be able to show later, such an expression of opinion either carries a denial with it, or it is paying a very poor compliment to those who, once governors of towns and provinces, or high officials, should have bowed down, kissed hands, and so far prostrated themselves as to kiss the feet of the representatives of this "ignorant brute," by whom for years they had been dominated. Since Abdullahi respected me, as a man, by keeping me constantly in chains, I respect him for the intellectual powers he displayed, and which apparently paralyzed those of others who submitted to him.
Slatin, having given a good account of himself in his many fights, was, after his submission, looked up to as the military genius of the Mahdist army; he could not, as I did, play any pranks with the work he was entrusted with; the map he had drawn of Egypt, showing the principal towns and routes, and upon which the former telegraph-clerk, Mohammad Sirri, had been instructed to write the Arabic names, had given some the idea that no expedition might be planned without the aid of Slatin and this map. Abdullahi's object in having the letter publicly read will be divined; first, it would assure the dervishes themselves that there was no fear of ​Slatin, after his protestations of loyalty, returning at the head of the Government troops to overthrow the rule of the Mahdi, and without help from the exterior the wavering Mahdists could not hope to throw off the yoke of Abdullahi. Moreover, the reading of the letter to the Christian captives would confirm the opinion formed by many, that Slatin was at heart with the present Soudan dynasty, and that they could not expect any help as a result of his escape.
There is another incident, which must be here mentioned, to show how acute Abdullahi really was. Slatin had publicly proclaimed his conversion to Mahommedanism before his submission to the Mahdi, so that, when he did submit, he was accepted as one of the faithful, and treated as one of themselves. The remainder of the captives — those taken before and after the fall of Khartoum — had not, up to the time of the escape of Rossignoli, been actually accepted as Muslims. At the suggestion of Youssef Mansour, on January 25, 1895, the Khaleefa was gracious enough to take all into his fold as real converts to the faith, and, on the anniversary of Gordon's death, all the Muslimanieh (Christians) were ordered to be circumcised, the only two people not being operated upon being, I believe, Beppo, who was overlooked while in prison, and an old Italian mason, who pleaded old age as an excuse for not undergoing the operation. The Christian quarter was, therefore, at the time of Slatin's escape, considered as a Muslim community, and the practical immunity they had ​enjoyed from a rigorous application of the Mahdieh laws was thereby put an end to.
Consequently, when Slatin escaped, leaving behind him such protestations of loyalty, the safest card the Khaleefa could play was to read to them his letter. The reading of it caused some little consternation and comment, no doubt, but I have already expressed my opinion as to the light in which this letter should be considered. It was a clever move of Abdullahi; the public reading of the letter blasted all hopes on the part of the discontented Soudanese of any assistance from Slatin in crumbling to dust the kingdom of the Khaleefa, and put an end to all hopes on the part of the former Muslimanieh captives of release, for the small proportion of old Government employés who had, up to then, firmly believed that Slatin was acting, as they express it, "politeeka" in all his dealings, now joined the ranks of those who believed differently. But in this they were, of course, mistaken.
After the public reading of the letter, the Khaleefa sent for the officials of the Beit-el-Mal and ordered them to take possession of Slatin's house, wives, servants, slaves, land, and cattle, at the same time giving them strict instructions, in the presence of all, that the household were to be treated gently, as being the property of a true Muslim. His Darfurian wife, Hassanieh, whom he had married when Governor-General of Darfur, was claimed from the Beit-el-Mal by Dood (Sultan) Benga as of a royal family, and was by him married to another of the Darfurian royal ​family. Desta, his Abyssinian wife, was within a few days of her confinement, and either, as a result of fright at the ransacking of the house and her reduction to the position of a common slave, or as a result of what would be to her, in her then delicate condition, rough handling, gave birth to a baby boy, who survived but a few weeks,
It was while the Khaleefa was awaiting the return of the scouts sent out to recapture Slatin that Hawanein put in his appearance at Omdurman. He was at once seized, accused of assisting in the escape of Slatin, and also of having returned to effect mine. Pleading ignorance of myself and Slatin, he was not believed; he was first sent into the Saier, and then, as he refused to confess, he was taken out and publicly flogged. Even this did not extort a confession; the Khaleefa, not being satisfied, ordered another flogging, but the Bisharas interceded for Hawanein, and succeeded in obtaining his release. As my would-be deliverer passed through the portals of the Saier, I passed in (March 26, 1895). Hawanein lost no time in returning to Assouan, where the relation of his experiences, with his torn back and unhealed wounds to bear him out, put an end finally to all attempts in that quarter to assist me in any way whatever.
It might be as well that I should not attempt to describe my mental condition on finding myself again in the Saier. I have a faint idea of what my state must have been; despair cannot describe it; insanity at blasted hopes might. Yes, I must have been insane; but I was mentally sound, if such a contradiction ​of terms is permissible. I remember that for days I shuffled about, refusing to look at or speak to any one. Perhaps what brought me round was that, in my perambulations, I came near the Saier anvil and heard a man crying. It was Ibrahim Pasha Fauzi, Gordon's old favourite, who was being shackled. My expostulations on his acting as a child and bullying him into a sense of manhood, again prevented that slender thread between reason and insanity snapping. It must, in some way, have calmed and comforted me to be brought to the knowledge that others were suffering as much as I was; and just as a child, which requires care and attention itself, gives all its affection and sympathy to a limbless doll, so must I have given my sympathy to Fauzi, and in so doing taken a step back from the abyss of insanity, which I was certainly approaching. —