A Prisoner of the Khaleefa: Twelve Years Captivity at Omdurman — John Shaqi
A Prisoner of the Khaleefa: Twelve Years Captivity at OmdurmanNeufeld, Charles
History
A Prisoner of the Khaleefa: Twelve Years Captivity at Omdurman
Neufeld, Charles
Neufeld, Charles, 1856-1918; Prisoners -- Sudan -- Omdurman; Sudan -- History -- 19th century
The sun had now set; the conference ended, and orders were given by
Farag for all to march back by |31| the route we had come, the Alighat
Arabs, with Amin between them, leading. We marched for only an hour
or so, for our camels, being tired and not having been watered, gave
trouble. A halt was called for the night, and what water the dervishes
had was partly distributed. By sunrise the next day we were on the
march again, twenty-five men, well mounted, having been sent on in
advance with the guides. All Saleh’s men, wounded and sound, were
compelled to walk, the dervishes and their wounded riding on camels.
In the afternoon we reached the spot where we had left the four men in
charge of the baggage, to find them with their hands bound behind them.
The advance party had reached them about ten o’clock in the morning,
and had doubtless found them asleep, as no shots had been fired. The
men were not to be blamed in any way, and it really mattered but little
whether they were asleep or awake when taken, with the odds against
them. I had, on starting for the wells, left them the little water I
had saved; had they not had this, they could not have slept.
In the same way that Saleh’s men had forgotten everything in that mad
rush for the water, so did the dervishes break loose, forget all about
their prisoners, and rush on the pile of cases. The ground was soon
littered with rifles, packets of ammunition, sugar, clothing, food,
and the hundred and one articles to be found in a trading caravan,
for the cases and bales of the Arabs who had joined us at Wadi Halfa
contained only merchandise. My mind was soon made up; running towards
the other prisoners with my |32| hunting-knife, I thought that at all
events the thongs of a few might be cut, and making for the camels and
scattering in different directions, a few might have got clear. It was
a mad idea, but it was something. Before any part of my half-formed
plan could be put into execution, the guards were down on us. I was
taken to the Emir, Said Wad Farag, but I excused myself, saying that,
being a medical man, I had gone to see if I could attend to any of the
wounded. Complimenting me on my thought for the others, he recommended
me to think of myself, appropriated the knife the guards had found in
my hand, and told me he would let me know when to use it, warning me at
the same time not to attempt to speak to any of the other prisoners.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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