# A Prisoner of the Khaleefa/Chapter 18

Contents
CHAPTER XVIII
MY SECOND IMPRISONMENT
It was some days after my return to the Saier before I learned that I had been incarcerated against the wish of the Khaleefa and Yacoub; but Hamadan and Khaleel-Hassanein, fearing that I might escape, declined to be responsible for me any longer, arguing that Slatin's escape had been effected through Government agents, and that mine would certainly follow. In deference to the wishes of Hassanein more than those of Hamadan, the Khaleefa ordered my return to the Saier, but it is very probable that he sent Idris es Saier instructions how to treat me; so that, taking it all in all, my life was not rendered so unendurable as it had been on my first entry into the prison. Added to Abdullahi's kindly interest (?) in me, Idris himself had become a sort of reformed character; he had tasted the sweets of imprisonment and the lash which he had been so generous with, and had also experienced himself what it was to be robbed on the Nebbi Khiddr account. The tables had been completely turned on him, and he had learned a lesson.
When Adlan was executed and his house searched ​for incriminating papers without result, Idris es Saier was accused by the Khaleefa of having assisted Adlan in disposing of the documents which he was in search of. Idris was imprisoned in his own house and flogged into the bargain; he was in disfavour for some time, and this gave released Baggara prisoners an opportunity of getting even with him. They explained the Nebbi Khiddr affair to Abdullahi, who ordered Idris to repay all the moneys he had collected on this account; he was deprived of all he had, but right up to the end, any former Baggara prisoner in want of a dollar knew where to find one. He presented himself to Idris, and asked for a further contribution towards a settlement of his claim.
These importunities drove Idris into begging from the prisoners, since the Nebbi Khiddr tale would only work with prisoners coming in from outlying districts, and they were few. As Idris never knew when the next call would be made upon him, he found it politic to be as kind and considerate to the prisoners as possible, and to relax discipline to the utmost. This state of affairs, added to the presumed instructions of the Khaleefa regarding myself, must have accounted for Idris' assembling the gaolers, and telling them in my presence that I was only brought into the Saier to prevent any Government people from catrying me off to Egypt; that if any one of them begged money from me or ill-treated me in any way, he would be imprisoned, flogged, and deprived of his post; Umm es Shole and her child were to be allowed to come into the prison at any hour they chose — but, ​and this spoiled all, I was never to be allowed to sleep out in the open, and must pass my nights in the Umm Hagar.
I have already described a night in this "Black Hole of Calcutta," but it might not be out of place to try and give a slight description of the first night Ibrahim Pasha Fauzi — one of Gordon's favourite officers — spent in that inferno, especially as he wishes me to do so. When taken to the anvil, as I have already remarked, Fauzi broke down completely, was carried off in a swoon to the Umm Hagar, placed sitting with his back in the angle of the wall furthest from the door, and there left — as I was, to "come round." When the first batch of prisoners was driven in at sunset, there was room for all to lie down on the foul and saturated ground. When the second batch was driven in about an hour and a half later, those lying down had to sit up with the new-comers, and Fauzi's outstretched legs gave a dry and comfortable seat to four big Soudanese. I was driven in with the third batch after the night prayers, and then all in the Umm Hagar had to stand up or be trampled on. Fauzi, still suffering from the effects of the shell wound he received in-one of the sorties from Khartoum, with four people sitting or standing on him, and being heavily chained as well, was unable to rise to his feet. I could hear him from my place near the door feebly expostulating with the people who were standing upon him; I thought that maybe he was being trampled to death, and in my then frenzied state commenced to fight my way towards him, striking friend and foe ​
​indiscriminately, and striking harder as I received blows in return. A general fight was soon in progress over the few yards I had to travel, as none were certain in the darkness who struck the blow they had received, and struck out at random in retaliation. My friends told me afterwards that I was a "shaitan" (devil), a mad fool, and showered other dubious compliments upon me; but I reached Fauzi. The warders, hearing the uproar, had opened the doors, and, as usual, commenced to belabour the heads of all they could reach with their sticks and whips. While the uproar was at its height, and the prisoners swaying from side to side, I recognized the voices of one or two near Fauzi who were under obligations to me for occasional little kindnesses in the way of food; and, enlisting their services on most extravagant promises, we tackled the people standing on Fauzi's legs, pushed them away, and made a sort of barricade round him with our bodies. In clearing the space, we must have struck each other as often as we struck those whom we wished to get out of the way, and Fauzi could not tell whether an attempt was being made to murder or to rescue him. When we did at last get him clear, we had to use a bit of old rag as a sort of punka in order to bring him round; then he babbled.
At midnight, the doors of the cell were thrown open again, and about twenty men, each wearing a shayba, were thrust into the place; practically there was no room for them, but they had to be driven in by some means. To make space for them, the gaolers resorted to their favourite device of throwing into the cell handfuls of ​blazing straw and grass, and at the same time laying about the bare heads and shoulders of the prisoners with their whips. The scene must be imagined. Fauzi, seeing the fire falling on the heads of the prisoners, believed that he had really been sent to hell — but communed with himself in a dazed sort of way as to whether he was in hell or not. He appeared to call to memory all that he had ever read of the place of torment, and tried to compare the picture his brain had formed of it from the descriptions, with what he was experiencing, coming to the conclusion that he could not be in hell, as hell could not be so bad. At this stage I was able to get him to take notice of me, and we discussed hell and its torments until sunrise; but nothing could even now shake Fauzi's opinion that hell could not be as bad as such a night in the Umm Hagar, and the worst he can wish any one is to pass such a night. To Youssef Mansour he wishes an eternity of them.
Among others who spent that memorable night in the Saier, were Ahmed and Bakheit Egail, Sadik Osman, Abou-el-Besher and others from Berber, arrested for assisting in the escape of Slatin; they were later transported to the convict station at Gebel Ragaf on the evidence of the guide Zecki, who ​conducted Slatin from Omdurman to Berber. Zecki had been arrested with them on suspicion of complicity in the escape, and confessed that he had been engaged by Egail and others to bring away from Omdurman a man with "cat's eyes," but that he did not know who the man was.
Close to the common cell was an offshoot of it — a smaller one named "Bint Umm Hagar" (the daughter of Umm Hagar), which took the place of the condemned cell in Europe. On my return to prison, I learned that my old enemy, Kadi Ahmed, had been confined there fora year. The ostensible reason for his imprisonment was that he had been in league with the false coiners, and had made large amounts of money; but the real reason was that the Khaleefa was angry with him on account of the death of Zecki Tummal, who had conducted the Abyssinian campaign when King John was killed. Kadi Ahmed had been induced by Yacoub to sentence Zecki to imprisonment and starvation; so when Ahmed's turn came, the Khaleefa said, "Let him receive the same punishment as Zecki." He was placed in the Bint Umm Hagar, and after about ten months the doorway was built up; there Ahmed was left, with his ablution bottle of water only, for forty-three days according to one tale, and fifty days according to another. When, for days, no sounds had been heard from his living tomb, he was presumed to be dead; but on the doorway being opened up, to the astonishment, not to say superstitious fear, of all, he was still alive, but unconscious, though the once big fat Kadi had wasted to a skeleton. ​Abdullahi must have received a fright too, for he ordered Ahmed to be tenderly nursed and given small doses of nourishing food every twenty-four hours, until the stomach was able to retain food given oftener; but in spite of all care and attention, the Kadi died on or about May 3, 1895. He was regretted by no one but the Khaleefa, in whose hands he had been a willing tool, dispensing justice(?) as his master dictated it, only to die the lingering death in the end to which he had condemned so many at his master's nod.
Kadi Ahmed's place in the "Bint" was soon taken by his successor — Kadi Hussein Wad Zarah. His offence was that of refusing to sentence people unjustly, when ordered by the Khaleefa and Yacoub to do so. When first walled up in his tomb, he was given, through a small aperture left for the purpose, a little food and water every four or five days, but towards the end of July, 1895, the doorway was built up entirely, and Zarah, not being a big stout man like Ahmed, starved, or rather parched, to death in about twenty-two or twenty-three days. It is hot in the Soudan in July.
During the first weeks of my imprisonment, Umm es Shole had little difficulty in begging a small quantity of grain, and borrowing an occasional dollar to keep us in food. But soon people became afraid of assisting us any further, and we were bordering upon semi-starvation, when, in the month of September, an Abyssinian woman came into the prison to see me under pretence of requiring medical treatment. She handed me a small packet, which she said contained letters from my friends, and which had been given to ​
Nearly two months must have slipped away before I succeeded in getting my replies written. I sent these to the guide, Onoor Issa, who promised that he would return for me in a few months' time. Father Ohrwalder has handed me the letter I sent to him. The following is in brief its contents: —
Onoor Issa went off with my replies, undertaking to return in a few months, after having made arrangements between Berber and Cairo for my escape; and during his absence I was to scheme for any excuse to get out of prison; escape from there was impossible. Onoor — or the translators of his accounts — are mistaken in saying that he actually met me in prison; all negotiations were carried on through the Abyssinian woman whom he employed to come into the prison for "medical attendance," or Umm es Shole, and days and days elapsed between the visits sometimes, in all amounting to maybe two months. There were times ​of mental tension in the Saier of Omdurman. To me ill luck and good luck appeared to be ever striving for the ascendency during my long captivity. Good luck gained in the end — the same good luck which had accompanied the Sirdar throughout his daring campaign to conquer, not only Abdullah, but the Soudan, and which, God grant, may ever accompany him in future campaigns; but the cup-and-ball-catch-and-miss strain was to me terrible. My one prayer was that an end might come. Liberty, of course, I hoped for to the end; but I often discovered myself speculating as to whether it was true or not that those suddenly decapitated by a single blow experienced some seconds of really intellectual consciousness, and wondering to myself whether, when my head was rolled into the dust by the Khaleefa's executioner, there would be time to give one last look of defiance.
Yet when I come to think of it, there was nothing very strange in such contemplations. What soldier or sailor has not often in his quiet moments tried to picture his own death, defiant to the last as he goes down before a more powerful enemy? And, after all, thousands and thousands of men and women in civilized countries are enduring a worse captivity and imprisonment than many did in the Soudan; but they are unfortunate in this — that no one has thrown a halo of romance over their sufferings. My lot was a hard, very hard one, I must admit; but the lot of some other captives was such that thousands in Europe would have been pleased to exchange theirs for it, and would have gained in the exchange.