Page:A Prisoner of the Khaleefa.djvu/333

266 me, and I was raving, laughing, crying, singing, kissing my hands in welcome to those terrible messengers of death screeching and yelling overhead; throwing open my arms, and leaping up to embrace the shell which a second later was to gather in death seventy-two then praying in the mosque.

I was only saved from death at the hands of the infuriated Baggara prisoners by Idris es Saier locking them all up in the Umm Hagar, and leaving myself, Fauzi, the Jaalin, and other Government sympathizers in the open. Then the tales of the fight came to us; two of the gunboats had been sunk, and the remainder had run away again! Fauzi and I sat there distracted, heartbroken. The attack on Khartoum, in 1885, had been enacted over again. I sat in a daze; the reaction from the madness of joy to that of despair was more than the strongest man could stand, after nearly twelve years' captivity, but fortunately I broke down and sobbed like a child.

During the night we could hear the pat, pat, pat of at first a few dozen feet, until eventually we could tell that thousands were running into the town. It is no use relating the tales then told us, I will relate what actually occurred. After the bombardment of the forts, the Khaleefa sent messengers to bring in all news from Omdurman. When told that all the forts had been destroyed, he ordered a salute to be fired in token of his having gained a victory, and called out, "Ed deen mansour" — the Faith is Triumphant! But