The Dash for Khartoum Part 39

"But the Egyptians are followers of Allah too," Edgar said, "and yet, as you say, they are but poor fighters. No, no, sheik; I admit the extraordinary bravery of the tribesmen. I fought against them at Suakim and saw them charge down upon our square at Abu Klea. They had no fear of death, and no men ever fought more bravely. But it was a matter of race rather than religion. Your people have always been free, for the rule of Egypt was after all a nominal one. The Egyptians have been slaves for centuries and have lost their fighting power. In the old, old days, thousands of years ago, of which we have records in our sacred book, and which we have learned from other sources, the Egyptians were among the most war-like of people and carried their arms far and wide, but for many hundreds of years now they have been ruled by strangers. It was not very long ago that our people fought a great tribe in the south of Africa--a tribe who knew nothing of Allah, who had in fact no religion at all, and yet they fought as stoutly and as well as your people have done here. It is a matter of race. They were just as ready to die as were your tribesmen, and that not because they believed, as you do, that death in battle would open the gates of paradise to them, but simply because it was the will of their king."

"Mashallah!" the sheik said, stroking his beard, "they must have been brave indeed to throw away their lives if they knew nothing of paradise, merely at the will of one man. That was folly indeed. A man has but one life, it is his all; why should he part with it? Did they love this king of theirs?"

"I do not know that they loved him," Edgar said, "but they feared him.

Their laws were very cruel ones, and it was death to turn back in battle."

"They had better have cut his throat and have gone about their own business," the sheik said. "Why should one man be master of the lives of all his people. Is this so among the whites?"

"It is so in some countries, but not in others," Edgar said. "Some countries are ruled over by men chosen by the people themselves, and the power of peace and war and of making laws of all kinds is in the hands of these men, and the king has very little power. In other countries the king is absolute; if he says it is war, it is war."

The sheik was silent.

"But why should people fight and die because one man tells them?" he said after a pause; "it is astonis.h.i.+ng."

"But it is just the same thing with the people here and the Mahdi,"

Edgar said; "he tells them to fight, and they fight; if he told them to scatter to their homes they would do so."

The sheik made no further remark, but it was evident to Edgar that he was thinking out the problems that had presented themselves to him, for some hours afterwards he suddenly remarked, "We who live in tents and wander where we will are the only free men; it is more clear to me than ever."

When they were within a day's journey of El-Obeid they met one of the sheik's followers who had left the wady four days before the rest with instructions to go to the city and find out whether it would be safe to enter. He halted his camel when he reached that of the sheik.

"You must go no nearer the city, my father," he said. "I have learned that orders have been received by the Mahdi's governor to arrest you and all with you should you present yourselves there. There is much talk about a party of soldiers who went into the desert to arrest you having disappeared altogether; others have been sent to find them, but have discovered no traces of them, so there are orders that any of our tribe from the desert are to be closely questioned. Any who admit a knowledge of you are to be sent to Khartoum. I was questioned at the gates, but as I said that I had come straight from Khartoum and knew nought of what was pa.s.sing in the desert I was pa.s.sed in without further inquiry. I took up my abode with the people you told me of, and they have found out for me what I have told you. It is but three days since the orders concerning you were received."

"I thought there might be danger at El Obeid," the sheik said calmly.

"We will turn off so as to avoid the city, and will make south to join the white pasha. For a while it would not be safe anywhere here."

Without further words he turned his camel from the track they had been following, and bore away more to the south.

"Think you that the white pasha will be able to maintain his position?"

The sheik shook his head.

"For a time he may, but in the end he must either surrender or try to strike down to the sea. His troops will weary at last even if they are not beaten by the army the Mahdi will send against them. They will say, 'Why should we go on fighting? What good can come of our holding out when no aid can possibly reach us from Egypt?' The Mahdi will be glad to come to terms with them and allow them to live there in quiet with their wives and families and their possessions, if they will acknowledge him and hand over the white pasha with the two or three white officers he has with him. But that will make no difference to me. I know all the country by the Great Lakes. There are Arab traders there in plenty who buy slaves and ivory and take them down to the coast. I can find employment with them for my camels, and can stay with them until it is safe to return. This cannot go on for ever. Besides, in times of trouble events pa.s.s quickly out of men's minds, and in a year the Mahdists will have forgotten my name. As to the loss of their forty men, what is it?

They have lost thousands since the war began."

"When we get to the white pasha, sheik, would you hand me over to him if he offered you a ransom for me?"

"No," the sheik said decidedly, "I should not take you near him. Why should I part with you? You have brought us good fortune. Thanks to you we defeated the Mahdists and captured their camels and all that they had. Besides, I like you. Why should I part with you? What good would it do you? With me you are no longer treated as a slave, but as one of my own people. What would you be with the white pasha? An officer of his troops, getting no pay, and running the risk of being one day seized and sent with the others a prisoner to Khartoum."

"I have no desire to stay with the white pasha," Edgar said; "I would rather be with you than in so hopeless a position as he is; but I might make my way down to the coast?"

"Never," the sheik said; "at least never alone. There are fierce tribes between the lakes and the sea. No white man could get through alone. He could only do it by going with a great band of fighting men and carriers, and by buying his way by presents through the great tribes and fighting his way through the small ones. You may travel down to the sea some day with me if I join the caravans of the Arabs, and then if there are countrymen of yours on the coast, as I have heard, and they would pay me a good ransom for you, we may see about it. You are ungrateful to wish to leave me."

"Not ungrateful, sheik, for you and your wife have treated me with great kindness; but it is natural that one should wish to go to one's own people. Had you been taken a prisoner and carried to England, however well you were treated you would sigh for your free life in the desert, for your people and friends, and would escape if you saw a chance. It is human nature to love the land where one was born, whatever that land may be."

"That is true," El Bakhat admitted; "but you cannot escape now; there is nowhere for you to go to."

"That is true, sheik; and I should be well content did I know that you were travelling straight either for Suakim or Zanzibar, for at either place I know that I could obtain from my countrymen money to pay any ransom you might set upon me, even a sum that would buy you fast camels and much goods, and make you a wealthy man in your tribe; but I am not content to wait for years."

"You are not thinking of making your escape now?" El Bakhat asked, looking scrutinizingly at Edgar under his heavy eyebrows.

"No, sheik," Edgar answered. "From the day that you captured me I made up my mind that I would escape sooner or later, whatever the risk; but I knew well that I could never traverse the country until I could speak the language like a native. I have made great progress, and can now understand all that is said and can talk freely and easily, but not so that I could travel alone as a native. It will be months yet before I can do that. Nor, after the kindness with which you have treated me, would I leave you suddenly without warning. When I feel that I can safely travel alone I shall give you fair warning. I shall say to you, Sheik, if you will now travel with me to Suakim or some other port where I can obtain money for paying you a fair ransom I will remain with you until such ransom is paid into your hands; if you will not do so I shall consider myself free to escape when I can. Of course it will be open to you to treat me again as a slave, and to use all vigilance to prevent my leaving you, but I shall consider that by giving you fair warning I shall be free to use my best endeavours to get away."

"You speak boldly," the sheik said, "but you speak fairly. Do you give me your promise not to attempt to escape until after warning me?"

"Yes, I give you that promise, sheik."

"It is well," El Bakhat said gravely. "I know that you would not lie to me. After you have given me warning I shall know what to do." So saying he got up and walked away to his tent.

Three days later, as the caravan was halting at a well, Yussuf, who had gone out with the camels, ran in.

"There is a large body of men, some on foot and some on horses, approaching from the south."

"How far are they off?" the sheik asked as he leapt to his feet.

"Scarce half a mile," the negro replied.

"Then it is too late for flight," the sheik said, reseating himself; "they would be here long before we could saddle our camels. It is doubtless a body of the Mahdi's troops, but if they come from the south they will have heard nothing against us."

When the Mahdists rode up the sheik rose and saluted their commander.

"Who are you?" the officer asked.

"I am an humble person, one El Bakhat of the Jahrin tribe, travelling with my camels and some little merchandise."

"Have you the permit of one of the Mahdi's officers to trade?"

"No, my lord, I did not know that it was needful."

"a.s.suredly it is needful," the officer said. "Your camels and goods are forfeited, and you yourself and your people must travel with us to El-Obeid, where inquiries will be made about you."

"My lord," the sheik said, "I am a poor man and have done no harm. After fighting against the infidels I went back to my people with such spoil as we had taken and have dwelt there quietly, and was ignorant that it needed a permission for me to journey with my camels."

"Well, if you can prove that when you get to the city," the officer said, "the governor may take a lenient view of the case, and may content himself by taking a portion only of your camels as a fine; but if you are lying it will be worse for you. Remember now that you are prisoners, and will be shot down if one of you attempts to escape."

The sheik bowed submissively. The officer ordered some of his men to keep a rigid watch over the prisoners, and then paid no further attention to them.

The sheik re-entered his tent and sat down stern and silent without speaking. Amina, who had heard what had pa.s.sed, was in the greatest state of alarm, but saw that her husband was not to be spoken to at present. She went to the door of her tent and beckoned to Edgar, in whom she felt the most implicit confidence.

"You heard what has pa.s.sed, Muley?"

"I heard, lady; the position is full of danger."

"You are fertile in expedients. Can you not suggest some thing? You see if we are taken to El-Obeid, where they have had news of the expedition sent from Khartoum, and its disappearance in the desert, my husband would be sent in chains to the Mahdi, and you know what his fate would then be, while the least that will befall us all will be to be sold into slavery. What then do you advise?"

"With your permission I will think it over," Edgar replied. "The position is a difficult one; the danger is, as you say, great."

"Go, then, and think it over, Muley."