letter and recommend you to Colonel Wingate, who will, I have no doubt, give you employment. I hope I shall see you again before long. I am very sorry that we must part, but it is best for us both.'
Very reluctantly Zaki returned to Mahmud. ' My master says I must go, Emir, and I must obey his orders, though I would rather stay with him. To-night I will leave.'
' It is well. I would that I could let him go also, but my oath prevents me from giving him his freedom. I trust, however, that when the Khalifa hears of his noble action, and how he has made me his debtor, he will say that Allah himself would not blame me for that. Gratitude is even more binding than an oath; still, until I hear from him I can do nothing. We have not seen matters in the same light for some time. When I wanted to strike he was unwilling that I should do so. Now, when it seems to me that the time for that has passed, and that I had best retire on Omdurman, he says go forward and fight. It is not for me to question his commands or his wisdom. But I may not give him cause for anger. My advice to you is, when you get to Berber do not stay there. We shall assuredly be there before long, and as none would know that you were under my protection, you would be slain. Go straight to Abu Hamed, and when you hear that we have defeated the infidels and have entered Berber, leave by this road they have made, upon which, as they tell me, carriages run without horses, and stay not until you reach Cairo. There you can live quietly until you hear that the Khalifa's army is approaching. After that fly. I cannot say whither, but seek a shelter until the black flag waves over the whole of the land. When there is no more fighting, then come to me and I will give you a post of honour.'
'I will do so, Emir. AVhen the time comes I will remind you of your promise.'
' I have neither silver nor gold with which I can reward you now, but we shall gather these things in Egypt, and I will make you wealthy.'
Zaki thought that it would be unwise to wander from Mahmud's encampment, and he accordingly sat down by his tent. Presently one of the slaves came out with a large dish of food that Mahmud had sent him. As evening approached he went round to Gregory's little tent with the intention of trying to persuade him to attempt to escape with him, but two of the tribesmen with rifles in their hands were stationed there. They offered no opposition to his entry, but their presence showed that Mahmud was determined that his master should appear to be a close prisoner, as indeed his escape might well jeopardize the Emir's position even among his followers.
Gregory had a letter ready for him to carry to Captain Keppel. It ran as follows:—
Dear Captain Keppel,
I am a prisoner in Mahmud's hands. This is the result of my own impetuosity —7' will not say folly, for I cannot regret that I yielded to the sudden impulse that seized me. A boat containing some women was sunk by a shell when but a few yards astern of the gun-boat. Most of its occupants were killed, but I saw a tvoman struggling in the water, and without thinking of the consequences jumped overboard to save her, my servant following me. When we reached her we found that the current was too strong to regain the gun-boat, and so landed about half a mile down, hoping to find shelter in the bushes until the boat came down the stream. What I did, however, had been observed by the Dervishes, and as soon as I landed a party rode up, headed by Mahmud himself who was aware that his favourite wife was in the boat that had sunk. Most fortunately it turned out that she was the woman I had saved. Upon her appeal Mahmud spared our lives. He has released my man, who will carry this to you; but having sworn that he would spare no white man, he retains me in his hands as a prisoner until he can lay the facts before the Khalifa and obtain his permission to let me go. I trust that all will be well, and that some day I may rejoin the army. However, there is no saying how matters may turn out. I am happy in knowing that there is no one who, if the worse comes to the worst, will grieve over my loss. I recommend my faithful servant to you. I should wish the balance of pay coming to me to be handed to him, as well as my camel and horse, and all other belongings. By the sale of these he would be able at the end of the war to hey a piece of land and settle down among his own people. Will you kindly report my capture to Colonel Wingate or General Hunter? Thanking you for your kindness to me,
I remain,
Yours faithfully,
GREGORY HILLIARD.
P.S. — In my cabin is a tin box containing documents of importance to me. I shall be greatly obliged if you will take charge of these until — as I hope will be the case —I rejoin you.
He handed the paper to Zaki, who took his hand and raised it to his forehead with tears in his eyes. ' I go because you order me, master,' he said in a broken voice, ' but I would a thousand times rather remain and share your fate, whatever it might be.' Then he turned and abruptly left the tent.
Twice that day Gregory had received food from a female slave of the harem. Although he knew that he should miss Zaki greatly, he was very glad that he had been sent away, for he felt that, although for the time he had been reprieved, his position was very precarious, and that his servant's would have been still more so. A white prisoner was a personage of some consequence, but the death of a Jaalin was a matter that would disturb no one; thousands of them had been massacred, and one more or less could not matter at all. But however much the Dervishes might hate a white infidel, it would be a serious matter for even the most powerful Emir to harm a prisoner under the protection of the harem of the Khalifa's son.
Mahmud had been very popular among them, but his position had been gravely shaken by the events of the last six months. Having unlimited confidence in themselves, the Baggara had seen with increasing fury the unopposed advance of the Egyptians. They could not understand why they should not have been allowed, after the capture of Metemmeh, to march across the desert to Merawi and annihilate the infidels assembled there. It was true that these had repulsed the force defending Dongola, but this was a comparatively small body, and it was the gun-boats and not the Egyptian troops who had forced them to evacuate the town. The fall of Abu Hamed had added to their discontent, and they were eager to march with all speed to Berber to join the five thousand men comprising its garrison, and to drive the invaders back across the Nile. But they had been kept inactive by the orders of the Khalifa and by the want of stores. They had for months been suffering great privations, and while remaining in enforced inactivity they had known that their enemy's strength was daily increasing, and that what could have been accomplished with the greatest of ease in August had now become a very serious business. Mahmud himself had chafed at the situation in which he found himself placed by his father's refusal to support him or to allow him to take any action. This had soured his temper, and he had taken to drinking heavily— he had become more harsh with his men, more severe in the punishment inflicted for any trifling disobedience of orders. Although no thought that the rule of the Khalifa could be seriously threatened entered their minds, fanatical as they were, they could not but feel some uneasiness at the prospect.
A great army was gathering at Berber; Kassala was in the hands of the British, and the forces that had been beleaguering it had been defeated with heavy loss; Abyssinia had leagued itself against them; the insurrection of the Jaalin had been crushed, but there were signs of unrest in Kordofan and other parts. Of course all this would be put right. An army of sixty thousand men was at Omdurman, and this with Mah-mud's command would suffice to sweep away all their enemies. Their enthusiasm would never have wavered had they been called upon for action; but these months of weary waiting and of semi-starvation without the acquisition of any booty or plunder—for little indeed had been obtained at the capture of Metemmeh—sapped their energy, and the force that crossed the Nile for an advance upon Berber was far less formidable than it would have been had it been led forward against Merawi and Dongola directly after the capture of Metemmeh, —still, it needed only the prospect of a battle to restore its spirits.
A fortnight after Gregory's capture the Dervish army was set in motion. A few thousand men had already been sent forward along the banks of the river to check any advance that might be made from Fort Atbara. Had it not been for this Gregory might have attempted to escaoe. It would not have been very difficult for him to creep out at the back of his little tent unperceived by his guards, but the dangers to be encountered in making his way to the British fort would have been immense. It would have been necessary for him to keep by the river, for from this source alone could Avater be obtained.
The country had been stripped of its crops of all kinds by the Dervishes, the villages had been razed to the ground, and the last head of maize and other grain gleaned by the starving people who had taken refuge in the bush and jungle.
Therefore, although by keeping near the river he could quench his thirst at will, he would assuredly have to face starvation. Moreover, he would have no chance of searching for any ears of corn which might have escaped the eyes of the searchers, for he must travel only by night and lie up by day, to avoid capture by one or other of the bands that had gone on, in which case he would at once be killed, being beyond the influence of Mahmud and the
