CHAPTER XII THE BATTLE OF THE ATT-BARA APRIL 8, 1898 In the evening of Thursday, the 7th of April, the Army Atum Dabiya paraded for the attack on Mahmud Zarima. The camp lay in the scrub which grows by the banks of the Atabara, as by those of the Nile, and in order to profit by the open, level ground the four infantry brigades move by parallel routes into the desert, and then formed, facing southeast, in column of brigade squares, the British brigade leading. The mounted forces, with four batteries of artillery, waited in camp until two o'clock the next morning, and did not break their march. The distance from the river bank to the open plain was perhaps a mile and a half, and the whole infantry force had cleared the scrub by six o'clock. The sun was setting, and the red glow, brightening the sandy hillocks, made the western horizon indefinite, so that it was hard to tell where the desert ended and the sky began. A few gazelle, intercepted on their way to the water by the unexpected movement of troops, trotted slowly away in the distance, white spots on the rosy brown of the sand, and on the great plain twelve thousand infantry, conscious of their strength, and eager to encounter the enemy, were beautifully arranged in four solid masses. Then the march began. The actual distance from the camp to the dervish position was scarcely seven miles, but the circle necessary to avoid the bushes and the gradual bends of the river added perhaps another five to the length of the road. The pace of the advance was slow, and the troops had not gone far when the sun sank, and with hardly an interval of twilight darkness enveloped everything. In the stillness of the night the brigades moved steadily forward, and only the regular scrunching of the hard sand betrayed the advance of an overwhelming force upon their enemies. No operation of a war is more critical than a night march. Over and over again in every country frightful disaster has overtaken the rash or daring force that has attempted it. In the gloom the shape and aspect of the ground are altered. Places well known by daylight appear strange and unrecognizable. The smallest obstacle impedes the column which can only crawl sluggishly forward with continual checks and halts. The effect of the gloom upon the nerves of the soldiers is not less than on the features of the country. Each man tries to walk quietly, and hence all are listening for the slightest sound. Every eye seeks to pierce the darkness. Every sense in the body is raised to a pitch of expectancy. In such hours doubts and fears come unbidden to the brain, and the marching men wander anxiously, whether all will be well with the army, and whether they themselves will survive the event. And if suddenly out of the black silence there burst the jagged glare of rifles and the crash of a volley, followed by the yell of an attacking foe, the steadiest troops may be thrown into confusion, and a panic once afoot stops only with the destruction or dispersal of the whole force. Nevertheless, so paramount is the necessity of attacking at dawn, with all the day to finish the fight, that in spite of the recorded disasters and the known dangers the night march is a frequent operation. For more than two hours the force advanced, moving across smooth swells of sand broken by rocks and with occasional small bushes. Several shallow cores traversed the road, and these rocky ditches filled with a strange sweet-scented grass delayed the brigades until the pace was hardly two miles an hour. The smell of the grass was noticed by the alert senses of many, and will forever refresh in their minds the strong impression of the night. The breeze which had sprung up at sundown gradually freshened and raised clouds of fine sand, which deepened the darkness with a whiter mist. At nine o'clock the army halted in a previously selected space near the deserted village of Matrus and about two miles from the river. Nearly half the distance to Mahmud's Zareba was accomplished and barely four miles in the direct line divided the combatants, but since it was not desirable to arrive before the dawn the soldiers, still formed in their squares, lay down upon the ground. Meat and biscuits were served out to the men. The transport animals went by relays to the pools of the Atabara bed to drink and to replenish the tanks. All water-bottles were refilled, tickets being thrown out to cover the business. Then, after sufficient sentries had been posted, the army slept, still in array. During the halt the moon had risen, and when at one o'clock the advance was resumed, the white beams revealed a wider prospect, and, glinting on the fixed bayonets, crowned the squares with a sinister glitter. For three hours the army toiled onwards at the same slow and uninterrupted crawl. Strict silence was now enforced, and all smoking was forbidden. The cavalry, the camel-core, and the five batteries had overtaken the infantry so that the whole attacking force was concentrated. Meanwhile the dervishes slept. At three o'clock the glare of fires became visible to the south, and, thus arrived before the dervish position, the squares, with the exception of the reserve brigade, were unlocked, and the whole force, assuming formation of attack, now advanced in one long line through the scattered bush and scrub, presently to emerge upon a large plateau which overlooked Mahmud Zariba from a distance of about nine hundred yards. It was still dark, and the haze that shrouded the dervish camp was broken only by the glare of the watchfires. The silence was profound. It seemed impossible to believe that more than twenty-five thousand men were ready to join battle had scarcely the distance of half a mile. Yet the advance had not been unperceived, and the Arabs knew that their terrible antagonists crouched on the ridge waiting for the morning. For a while the suspense was prolonged. At last, after what seemed to many an interminable period, the uniform blackness of the horizon was broken by the first glimmer of the dawn. Gradually the light grew stronger until, as a theater curtain is pulled up, the darkness rolled away, the vague outlines in the haze became definite, and the whole scene was revealed. The British and Egyptian army lay along the low ridge in the form of a great bow, the British brigade on the left, Macdonald in the center, Maxwell curving forward on the right. The whole crest of the swell of ground was crowned with a bristle of bayonets and the tiny figures of thousands of men sitting or lying down and gazing curiously before them. Behind them in a solid square was the transport guarded by Lewis's brigade. The leading squadrons of the cavalry were forming leisurely towards the left flank. The four batteries and a rocket detachment, moving between the infantry, ranged themselves on two convenient positions about a hundred yards in front of the line of battalions. All was ready. Yet everything was very quiet, and in the stillness of the dawn it almost seemed that nature held her breath. Half a mile away, at the foot of the ridge, a long irregular black line of thorn bushes enclosed the dervish defenses. Behind this syriba low palisades and entrenchments bent back to the scrub by the river. Odd, shapeless mounds indicated the positions of the gun emplacements, and various casemates could be seen in the middle of the enclosure. Without, the bushes had been cleared away, and the smooth sand stretched in a gentle slope to where the army waited. Within were crowds of little straw huts and scattered bushes, growing thicker to the southward. From among this rose the palm trees, between whose stems the dry bed of the at-bar was exposed, and a single pool of water gleamed in the early sunlight. Such was Mahmud's famous syriba, which for more than a month had been the predominant thought in the minds of the troops. It was scarcely imposing, and at first the soldiers thought it deserted.  Yet, insignificant as the syriba looked, the smoke of many fires cooking the morning meal, never to be eaten, showed that it was occupied by men, and gay banners of varied colour and device, flaunting along the entrenchments or within the enclosure, declared that some at least were prepared to die in its defence. The hush of the hour and the suspense of the army were broken by the bang of a gun. Everyone on the ridge jumped up and looked towards the sound. A battery of crops a little to the right of the Cameron Highlanders had opened fire. Another gun further to the right was fired. Another shell burst over the straw huts among the palm trees. The two Maxim Norton-felt batteries had come into action. The officers looked at their watches. It was a quarter past six. The bombardment had begun. Explosion followed explosion and quick succession until all four batteries were busily engaged. The cannonade grew loud and continuous. The rocket detachment began to fire and the strange projectiles hissed and screamed as they left the troughs and jerked erratically towards the syriba. In the air above the enclosure, shell after shell flashed into existence, smote the ground with its leadened shower and dispersed, a mere film, into the haze and smoke which still hung over the dervish encampment. At the very first shot all the dirty white figures disappeared, bobbing down into their pits and shelters, but a few solitary horsemen remained motionless for a while in the middle of the enclosure, watching the effect of the fire, as if it had no concern with them. The British infantry stood up on tiptoe to look at the wonderful spectacle of actual war, and at first every shell was eagerly scrutinized in its probable effect discussed. But the busy gunners multiplied the projectiles until so many were alive in the air at once that all criticism was prevented. Gradually even the strange sight became monotonous.  The men began to sit down again. Many of them actually went to sleep. The rest were soon tired of the amazing scene, the like of which they had never looked on before, and awaited impatiently further developments in some new thing. After the bombardment had lasted about ten minutes a great cloud of dust sprang up in the Zareba, and hundreds of horsemen were seen scrambling into their saddles and galloping through a gap in the rear face out into the open sand to the right. To meet the possibility of an attempt to turn the left flank of the attack the eight squadrons of cavalry and two maxim guns jingled and clattered off in the direction of the danger. The dust, which the swift passage of so many horsemen raised, shut the scene from the eyes of the infantry, but continual dust clouds above the scrub to the left and the noise of the maxims seemed to indicate a cavalry fight. The Bagara horse, however, declined in unequal combat, and made no serious attempt to interfere with the attack. Twice they showed some sort of front, and the squadrons thought they might find opportunity to charge, but a few rounds from the maxims effectually checked the enemy, inflicting on each occasion the loss of about twenty killed and wounded. With the exception of one squadron detached on the right, the Egyptian cavalry force, however, remained on the left flank, and shielded the operations of the assaulting infantry. Meanwhile, the bombardment, no longer watched with curiosity, continued with accuracy and precision. The batteries searched the interior of the Zareba, threshing out one section after another and working the whole ground regularly from front to rear. The Zareba and Palisades were knocked about in many places, and at a quarter to seven a cluster of straw huts caught fire and began to burn briskly. At a quarter past seven the infantry was ordered to form in column for assault. The plan of the attack for the army was simple. The long, deployed line were to advance steadily against the entrenchments, subduing by their continual fire that of the enemy. They were then to tear the Zareba to pieces. Covered by their musketry, the dense columns of assault which had followed the line, were to enter the defenses through the gaps, deploy to the right, and march through the enclosure, clearing it with the bayonet and by fire. At twenty minutes to eight the Serdar ordered his bugles to sound the general advance. The call was repeated by all the brigades, and the clear notes rang out above the noise of the artillery. The superior officers, with the exception of Hunter, Maxwell, and MacDonald, dismounted and placed themselves at the head of their commands. The whole mass of the infantry, numbering nearly eleven thousand men, immediately began to move forward upon the Zareba. The scene as this great force crested the ridge and advanced down the slope was magnificent and tremendous. Large, solid columns of men, preceded by a long double line, with the sunlight flashing on their bayonets and displaying their ensigns, marched to the assault in regular and precise array. The pipes of the Highlanders, the bands of the Sudanese, and the drums and pipes of the English regiments added a wild and thrilling accompaniment. As soon as the advance massed the batteries, the guns were run forward with the firing line, in order effectually to support the attack. The deployed battalions opened a ceaseless and crushing fire on the entrenchment, and as the necessity of firing delayed the advance of the attacking columns, the pace did not exceed a slow march. The dervishes remained silent until the troops were within three hundred yards. Then the smoke puffs spurted out all along the stockades, and a sharp fuselage began, gradually and continually growing in intensity until the assaulting troops were exposed to a furious and effective fire. From two hundred fifty yards up to the position losses began to occur. The whole entrenchment was rimmed with flame and smoke, amid which the active figures of the dervish riflemen were momentarily visible, and behind the filmy curtain solid masses of swordsmen and spearmen appeared. The fortunate interposition of a small knoll in some degree protected the events of the Lincoln Regiment, but in both Highland battalions soldiers began to drop. The whole air was full of a strange, chirping whistle. The hard pebbly sand was everywhere dashed up into dust spurts.  The roar of the rifles drowned even the noise of the artillery. All the deployed battalions began to suffer. But they in the assaulting columns, regardless of the fire, bore down on the Zareba and all the majesty of war, an avalanche of men, stern, unflinching, utterly irresistible. Two hundred yards from the entrenchment and one hundred and fifty from the thornbushes, it firing broke out, running along the line from end to end. Shooting continually but without any hurry or confusion, the British and Sudanese battalions continued their slow, remorseless advance, and it was evident that, in spite of the fierce fire of the defense, which was now causing many casualties, the assault would be successful. The loss during the passage of the Zareba and in the assault of the entrenchments was severe. Captain Finlay and Major Irkhart of the Cameron Highlanders were both mortally wounded in the fight at the stockades, and expired still cheering on their men. Major Napier of the same regiment and Captain Bailey of the Seaforth Highlanders received the wounds of which they subsequently died a few yards further on. At all points the troops broke into the enclosure. Behind the stockade there ran a troubled trench. The whole interior was honeycombed with pits and holes. From these there now sprang thousands of dervishes, desperately endeavouring to show a front to the attack. Second Lieutenant Gore, a young officer fresh from Sandhurst, was shot dead between the thornfence and the stockade. Other officers in the Lincoln and the Warwickshire regiments sustained severe wounds. Many soldiers were killed and wounded in the narrow space. These losses were general throughout the assaulting brigades. In the five minutes which were occupied in the passage of the obstruction about four hundred casualties occurred. The attack continued. The British brigade had struck the extremity of the north front of the Zareba and thus took the whole of the eastern face in Anfilade, sweeping it with their terrible musketry from end to end, and strewing the ground with corpses. Although, owing to the lines of advance having converged, there was not room for more than half the force to deploy, the brigades pushed on. The conduct of the attack passed to the company commanders. All these officers kept their heads and brought their companies up into the general line as the front gradually widened and gaps appeared. So the whole force, companies, battalions, even brigades, mixed up together and formed in one dense, ragged but triumphant line, marched on unchecked towards the river bed, driving their enemies in hopeless confusion before them. Yet, although the dervishes were unable to make head against the attack, they disdained to run. Many hundreds held their ground, firing their rifles valiantly till the end. Others charged with spear and sword. The greater part retired in skirmishing order, jumping over the numerous pits, walking across the open spaces, and repeatedly turning round to shoot. The eleventh Sudanese encountered the most severe resistance after the defenses were penetrated. As their three deployed companies, pressed on through the enclosure, they were confronted by a small inner Zareba, stubbornly defended by the Amir Mahmud's personal bodyguard. These poured a sudden volley into the center company at close range, and so deadly was the effect that nearly all the company were shot, falling to the ground still in their ranks, so that a British officer passing at a little distance was provoked to inquire what they were doing lying down. Notwithstanding the severe check, the regiment, gallantly led by their colonel and supported by the tenth Sudanese, rushed this last defense and slew its last defenders. Mahmud was himself captured. Having duly inspected his defenses and made his dispositions, he had sheltered an especially constructed casemate. Thence he was now ignominiously dragged, and on his being recognized, the intervention of a British officer alone saved him from the fury of the excited Sudanese. Still the advance continued, and it seemed to those who took part in it more like a horrible nightmare than a waking reality. Captains and subalterns collected whatever men they could, heedless of core or nationality, and strove to control and direct their fire. Gibba-clad figures sprang out of the ground, fired or charged, and were destroyed at every step. And onwards over their bodies, over pits choked with dead and dying, among heaps of mangled camels and donkeys, among decapitated or eviscerated trunks, the ghastly results of the chalefire.  Blacks chained in their trenches, slaughtered in their chains. Always onwards marched the conquerors, with bayonets running blood. Clothes, hands and faces all besmeared. The foul stench of a month's accumulated filth in their nostrils, in the savage whistle of random bullets in their ears. But at about twenty minutes past eight the whole force, with the Seaforth Highlanders well forward on the left, arrived at the bank of the Atbara, having marched completely through the position, and shot or bayonetted all in their path. Hundreds of dervishes were still visible retiring across the dry bed of the river, and making for the scrub on the opposite bank. The leading companies of the Seaforth Highlanders and Lincolns, with such odd parties of Cameron's as have been carried on with the attack, opened a murderous fire on these fugitives. Since they would not run, their loss was heavy, and it was a strange sight, the last vivid impression of the day, to watch them struggling through the deep sand with the dust knocked up into clouds by the bullets which struck all around them. Very few escaped, and the bodies of the killed laid thickly dotting the riverbed with heaps of dirty white. Then at eight twenty-five the ceasefire sounded, and the battle of the Atbara ended. Fourth with the battalions began to reform, and in every company the roll was called. The losses had been severe. In the assault, a period not exceeding half an hour, eighteen British, sixteen native officers, and five hundred twenty-five men had been killed or wounded, the greater part during the passage of the Zareba. The actual pursuit was abortive. Colonel Lewis, with his two battalions, followed the line of advance which led south of the Zareba, and just before reaching the river bank found and fired upon a few dervishes retreating through the scrub. All the cavalry and the camel-core crossed the Atbara and plunged into the bush on the further side. But so dense and tangled was the country that after three miles of peril and perplexity they abandoned the attempt, and the routed Arabs fled unmolested. The Baghara horse had ridden off during the action, headed by the prudent Osman Degna, whose position in the Zareba was conveniently suited to such a maneuver, and under that careful leadership suffered little loss. The rest of the army was, however, destroyed or dispersed. The fugitives fled up the Atbara River, leaving many wounded to die in the scrub all along their line of retreat. Of the powerful force of twelve thousand fighting men which Mahmud had gathered at Matema, scarcely four thousand reached Gadaret in safety. These survivors were added to the army of Ahmad Fadil, and thus prevented from spreading their evil tidings among the populace at Amderman. Osman Degna, Wad Bishara, and other important amirs whose devotion and discretion were undoubted, alone returned to the capital. As soon as the troops were reformed, the Zareba was evacuated, and the army drew up in line along the neighboring ridge. It was then only nine o'clock, and the air was still cool and fresh. The soldiers lit fires, made some tea, and ate their rations of biscuits and meat. Then they lay down and waited for evening. Gradually, as the hours passed, the sun became powerful. There was no shade, and only a few thin, leafless bushes rose from the sand. The hours of a day, peculiarly hot, even for the country in season, dragged wearily away. The sandy ridge beat back the rays till the air above was like the breath of a furnace, and the pebbly ground burned. The water in the fantasies and bottles was hot and scarce. The pool of the Atbara was foul and tainted. In spite of the devoted efforts of the few medical officers who had been allowed to accompany the force, the wounded officers and soldiers endured the greatest miseries, and it is certain that several died of their wounds who might, in happier circumstances, have been saved. Several hundred prisoners were taken. They were mostly Negroes, for the Arabs refused to surrender and fought to the last, or tried to escape. The captive blacks who fight with equal willingness on either side were content to be enlisted in the Sudanese regiments, so that many of those who served the Khalifa on the Atbara helped to destroy him at Amderman. The most notable prisoner was the Amir Mehmud, a tall, strong Arab, about thirty years old. Immediately after his capture he was dragged before the Sardar. Why, inquired the general, have you come into my country to burn and kill? I have to obey my orders, and so have you, retorted the captive sullenly, yet not without a certain dignity. To other questions he returned curt or evasive answers, and volunteered the opinion that all this slaughter would be avenged at Amderman. He was removed in custody. A fine specimen of proud brutality, worthy perhaps of some better faith than to linger indefinitely in the jail at Rosetta. With the cool of the evening the army left its bed of torment on the ridge and returned to Umdabiya. The Homer march was a severe trial. The troops were exhausted. The ground was broken. The guides, less careful or less fortunate than on the previous night, lost their way. The columns were encumbered with wounded, most of whom were already in a high state of fever, and whose sufferings were painful to witness. It was not until after midnight that the camp was reached. The infantry had been continuously under arms, marching, fighting, or sweltering in the sun, for thirty hours, and most of them had hardly closed their eyes for two days. Officers and soldiers, British, Sudanese, and Egyptian, struggled into their bivouacs and fell asleep. Very weary, but victorious. British and Egyptian casualties on the Atbara included twenty officers and five hundred thirty-nine men killed or wounded. The dervish loss was officially estimated at forty amours and three thousand dervishes killed. No statistics as to their wounded are forthcoming. As the battle of the Atbara had been decisive, the whole expeditionary force went into summer quarters. The Egyptian army was distributed into three principal garrisons, four battalions at Atbara camp, six battalions and the cavalry at Berber, three battalions at Abdaubia. The artillery and transport were proportionately divided. The British brigade encamped with two battalions at Darmali and two at the village of Selim, about a mile and a half distant. For the final phase of the campaign, three new gunboats had been ordered from England. These were now sent in sections over the desert railway. Special arrangements were made to admit of the clumsy loads passing trains on the ordinary sightings. As usual, the contrivances of the railway subalterns were attended with success. Sir H. Kitchener himself proceeded to Abdaubia to accelerate by his personal activity and ingenuity the construction of the vessels on which so much depended. Here, during the heat of the summer, he remained, nursing his gunboats, maturing his plans, and waiting only for the rise of the river to complete the downfall of his foes. CHAPTER XIII. THE GRAND ADVANCE All through the early months of the summer the preparations for the final advance were steadily proceeding. A second British brigade was ordered to the Sudan. A new battery of Howitzer artillery, the 37th, firing enormous shells charged with Lidite, was dispatched from England. Two large forty-pounder guns were sent from Cairo. Another British maxim battery of four guns was formed in Cairo from men of the Royal Irish Fusiliers. Three new screw gunboats of the largest size and most formidable pattern had been passed over the indefatigable railway in sections and were now launched on the clear waterway south of the Atbara encampment. And last but not least the twenty-first Lancers. The author led a troop in this regiment during the final advance to Omderman, and it is from this standpoint that the ensuing chapters are to some extent conceived. Were ordered up denial. Events now began to move rapidly. Within three weeks of the arrival of the reinforcements the climax of the war was over. Within five weeks the British troops were returning home. There was no delay at the Atbara encampment. Even before the whole of the second brigade had arrived some of its battalions were being dispatched to Wad Hamid, the new point of concentration. This place was a few miles north of Shabluka and only fifty-eight miles from Omderman. It was evident therefore that the decisive moment of the three years war approached. The staff, the British infantry, one squadron, the guns, and the stores were carried south in steamers and barges. The Egyptian division marched to Wad Hamid by brigades. The horses of the batteries, the transport animals of the British division, about fourteen hundred in number, the chargers of the officers, some cattle, and most of the war correspondence were sent along the left bank of the river, escorted by two squadrons of the twenty-first Lancers and two Maxim guns. All the thirteen squadrons of cavalry remained three days at Wad Hamid. After the fatigues of the march we were glad to have an opportunity of looking about, of visiting regiments known in other circumstances, and of writing a few letters. This last was the most important, for it was now known that after leaving Wad Hamid there would be no post or communication with Cairo and Europe until the action had been fought and all was over. The halt was welcome for another reason. The camp itself was well worth looking at. It lay lengthwise along the river bank, and was nearly two miles from end to end. The Nile secured it from attack towards the east. On the western and southern sides were strong lines of thorn bushes staked down informing us Zareba. And the north face was protected by a deep artificial water course which allowed the waters of the river to make a considerable inundation. From the bank of this work the whole camp could be seen. Far away to the southward the white tents of the British division, a little nearer rose and rose of grass huts and blanket shelters, the bivouacs of the Egyptian and Sudanese brigades. The Cerdars large white tent with the red flag of Egypt flying from a high staff on a small eminence, and to the right the grove of palm trees in which the officers of the Egyptian cavalry had established themselves. The whole riverside was filled by a forest of masts. Crowds of Jayasses, barges and steamers were moored closely together, and while looking at the furled sails, the tangled riggings, and the tall funnels it was easy for the spectator to imagine that this was the docks of some populous city in a well-developed and civilized land. But the significance of the picture grew when the mind, outstripping the eye, passed beyond the long low heights of the gorge and cataract of Shabluka, and contemplated the ruins of Khartoum and the city of Omderman. There were known to be at least fifty thousand fighting men collected in their last stronghold. You might imagine the scene of excitement, rumor, and resolve in the threatened capital. The Khalifa declares that he will destroy the impudent invaders. The Mahdi has appeared to him in a dream. Countless angelic warriors will charge with those of Islam. The enemies of God will perish, and their bones will widen the broad plain. Loud is the boasting, and many are the oaths which are taken as to what treatment the infidel dog shall have when they are come to the city walls. The streets swarm with men and resound with their voices. Everywhere is preparation and defiance, and yet overall hangs the dark shadow of fear. Nearer and nearer comes this great serpent of an army, moving so slowly and with such terrible deliberation but always moving. A week ago it was sixty miles away. Now it is but fifty. Next week only twenty miles will intervene, and then the creep of the serpent will cease, and without argument or parlay, one way or the other, the end will come. The road to the next camp was a long one, for though Royan Island, opposite to which the site had been selected, was only seven miles in the direct line, it was necessary to march eight miles into the desert to avoid the Shabluka Heights, and then to turn back to the Nile. The infantry were therefore provided with camel transport to carry sufficient water in small iron tanks for one night, and they were thus able to bivouac half way, and to complete the journey on the next morning, thus making a two-days march. The mounted troops, who remained at Wat Chamed till all had gone south, were ordered to move on the twenty-seventh of August, and by a double march catch up the rest of the army. Wat Chamed then ceased for the time being to exist except in name. All the stores and transport were moved by land or water to the south of Shabluka, and an advanced base was formed upon Royan Island. Communications with the Atbara encampment and with Cairo were dropped, and the army carried with them in their boats sufficient supplies to last until after the capture of Omderman, when the British division would be immediately sent back. It was calculated that the scope of this operation would not be greater than three weeks, and on the twenty-seventh the army were equipped with twenty-one days supplies, of which two were carried by the troops, five by the regimental barges, and fourteen in the army transport sailing vessels. All surplus stores were deposited at Royan Island, where a field hospital was also formed. The expeditionary force, which was thus concentrated, equipped, and supplied for the culminating movement of the river war, was organized as follows. Commander-in-Chief, the Serdar. The British division, Major General Gadakar commanding. First Brigade commanded by Brigadier General Watchope. First Battalion Royal Warwickshire Regiment. First Battalion C-4th Highlanders. First Battalion Cameron Highlanders. The Second Brigade commanded by Brigadier General Liddleton. First Battalion Grenadier Guards. First Battalion Northumberland Fusiliers. Second Battalion Lancashire Fusiliers. Second Battalion Rifle Brigade. The Egyptian division, Major General Hunter commanding. First Brigade commanded by Colonel MacDonald. Consisting of the Second Egyptians, the Ninth, Tenth, and Eleventh Sudanese. Second Brigade, under Colonel Maxwell. Consisting of the Eighth Egyptians and the Twelfth, Thirteenth, and Fourteenth Sudanese. Third Brigade, under Colonel Lewis, with the Third Egyptians, the Fourth, Seventh, and Fifteenth Egyptians. Fourth Brigade, under Colonel Collinson, with the First Egyptians, Half of the Fifth Egyptians, the Seventeenth and Eighteenth Egyptians. Mounted Forces, the Twenty-First Lancers, under Colonel Martin, with four squadrons. Camel Corps, under Major Tudway, with eight companies. Egyptian Cavalry, under Colonel Broadwood, with nine squadrons. Artillery, Colonel Long commanding. British, Thirty-Second Field Battery, Royal Artillery, with two forty-pound guns and a total of eight guns. The Thirty-Seventh Field Battery, Royal Artillery, of five inch Howitzers, with six guns. Egyptian Artillery, the Horse Battery of the Egyptian Army, composed of six Krupp guns. Number One Field Battery, composed of six Maxim Nordenfelt guns. Number Two Field Battery, consisting of six guns. Number Three Field Battery, consisting of six guns. And Number Four Field Battery, consisting of six guns. Machine Guns. British, the Detachment of the Sixteenth Company of the Eastern Division Royal Artillery, with six Maxim guns. Detachment of the Royal Irish Fusiliers, Royal Artillery, with four Maxim guns. Egyptian, two Maxim guns to each of the five Egyptian Batteries, for a total of ten Maxim guns. Engineers, a Detachment of the Royal Engineers. The Flotilla, commanded by Commander Keppel.  The Sultan, the Malik, the Sheikh. Each carrying two Nordenfelt guns, one quick firing twelve pounder gun, one Howitzer, and four Maxims.  The Fatah, the Nasser, the Zafir. Each carrying one quick firing twelve pounder gun, two six pounder guns, and four Maxims. Old class Armored Sternwheel Gun Boats, four. The Tamai, the Hafir, the Abu Klia, the Matema. Each carrying one twelve pounder gun, and two Maxim Nordenfelt guns. Footnote, the steamer El Teb, wrecked at the Fourth Cataract in eighteen ninety-seven, have been refloated, and to change the luck was renamed Hafir. Steam Transport, five steamers, the Dahl, the Akasha, the Tara, the Akma, the Kaibar. The total strength of the expeditionary force amounted to eighty-two hundred British and seventeen thousand six hundred Egyptian soldiers, with forty-four guns and twenty Maxims on land, with thirty-six guns and twenty-four Maxims on the river, and with twenty-four hundred sixty-nine horses, eight hundred ninety-six mules, thirty-five hundred twenty-four animals, and two hundred twenty-nine donkeys, besides followers and private animals. While the army were to move along the west bank of the river, the Omderman side, a force of Arabir regulars formed from the friendly tribes would march along the east bank and clear it of any dervishes. All the debris which the Egyptian advance had broken off the dervish empire was thus to be hurled against that falling state. Eager for plunder, anxious to be on the winning side, sheikhs and amirs from every tribe in the military Sudan had hurried, with what following the years of war had left them, to wad hamed. On the twenty-sixth of August the force of irregulars numbered about twenty-five hundred men, principally Jailin survivors, but also comprising bands and individuals of Basharin, of Hadandoah from Swaqan, of Shukria, the camel-breeders, of Batahin, who had suffered a bloody diminution at the Khalifa's hands, of Shagia, Gordon's vexatious allies, and lastly some Jalalab Arabs under a reputed son of Zubair Pasha. The command of the whole Motley force was given to Major Stuart Wortley, Lieutenant Wood accompanying him as staff officer, and the position of these officers among the cowed and untrustworthy Arabs was one of considerable peril. While the infantry divisions were marching round the heights of Shabluqa to the camp opposite Royan Island, the steamers and gun-boats ascended the stream and passed through the gorge, dragging up with them the whole fleet of barges and gieses. The northern end of the narrow passage had been guarded by the five dervish forts, which now stood deserted and dismantled. They were well built, and formed nearly a straight line, four on one bank and one on the other. Each fort had three embrasures, and might, when occupied, have been a formidable defence to the cataract. Threshing up against the current, the gun-boats and stern-wheelers, one after another, entered the gorge. The Nile, which below is nearly a mile across, narrows to a bear two hundred yards. The pace of the stream becomes more swift. Great swirls and eddies disturb its surface. High on either side, rise black, broken and precipitous cliffs, looking like piles of gigantic stones. Through and among them the flood river pours with a loud roaring, breaking into foam and rapids wherever the suburge rocks are near the surface. Between the barren heights and the water is a strip of green bushes and grass. The bright, verdant colour seems the more brilliant by contrast with the muddy water and the somber rocks. It is a forbidding passage. A few hundred riflemen scattered effrity-wise among the tops of the hills, a few field guns and the mud forts by the bank, and the door would be shut. The mounted forces marched from Wad Hamed at dawn on the twenty-seventh, and, striking out into the desert, skirted the rocky hills. Besides the twenty-first lancers and nine squadrons of Egyptian cavalry, the column included the camel-core, eight hundred strong, and a battery of horse-artillery. And it was a fine sight to see all these horsemen and camelmen trotting swiftly across the sand by squadrons and companies, with a great cloud of dust rising from each and drifting away to the northward. The Zareba of the camp at Royan had been already made, and much of the ground cleared by the energy of the Sudanese division, which had been the first to arrive. An advanced depot was established at Royan Island which was covered with white hospital tents, near which there was a forest of masts and sails. The barges and boats containing the stores and kits awaited the troops, and they had only to bevwack along the riverbank and shelter themselves as quickly as possible from the fierce heat of the sun. The dark hills of Shabluka, among and beneath which the camp and army nestled, lay behind us now. To the south the country appeared a level plain covered with bush, and only broken by occasional peaks of rock. The eternal Nile flowed swiftly by the tents and shelters, and disappeared mysteriously in the gloom of the gorge, and on the further bank there rose a great mountain, Jebel Royan, from the top of which it was said that men might see cartoom. The whole army broke camp at Royan on the twenty-eighth of August at four o'clock in the afternoon, and marched to Wadi El Abid, six miles further south. We now moved on a broad front, which could immediately be converted into a fighting formation. This was the first time that it had been possible to see the whole force, infantry, cavalry, and guns, on the march it wants. In the clear air the amazing detail of the picture was striking. There were six brigades of infantry, composed of twenty-four battalions. Yet every battalion showed that it was made up of tiny figures, all perfectly defined on the plain. A Sudanese brigade had been sent on to hold the ground with pickets, until the troops had constructed a Zareba. But a single dervish horseman managed to evade these, and just as the light faded, rode up to the Warwickshire regiment, and flung his broad-bladed spear in token of defiance. So great was the astonishment which this unexpected apparition created, that the bold man actually made good his escape uninjured. On the twenty-ninth the forces remained halted opposite Um Teref, and only the Egyptian cavalry went out to reconnoiter. They searched the country for eight or nine miles, and Colonel Broadwood returned in the afternoon, having found a convenient camping-ground, but nothing else. During the day the news of two river disasters arrived, the first to ourselves, the second to our foes. On the twenty-eighth the gumbot Saphir was steaming from the Aqbara to Wad HaMed, intending thereafter to ascend the Shabluqa cataract. Suddenly, overtaken now was on the eve of the advance on Dangala by misfortune. She sprang a leak, and in spite of every effort to run her ashore, founded by the head in deep water near Matema. The officers on board, among whom was Keppel, the commander of the whole flotilla, had scarcely time to leap from the wreck and with difficulty made their way to the shore, where they were afterwards found very cold and hungry. The sardar received the news at Royan. His calculations were disturbed by the loss of a powerful vessel, but he had allowed for accidents, and in consequence accepted the misfortune very flammatically. The days of struggling warfare were over, and the general knew that he had a safe margin of strength. The other catastrophe afflicted the Khalifa, and its tail was brought to the advancing army by the intelligent spies, who to the last, even when the forces were closing, tried to pass between them. Not content with building batteries along the banks, Abdullah, fearing the gun-boats, had resolved to mine the river. An old officer of the old Egyptian army, among a prisoner in Nanderman, was brought from his chains in order to construct mines. Two iron boilers were filled with gunpowder, and it was arranged that these should be sunk in the Nile at convenient spots. Buried in the powder of each was a loaded pistol with a string attached to the trigger. On pulling the string the pistol, and consequently the mine, would be exploded. So the Khalifa argued, nor was he wrong. It was resolved to lay one mine first. On the 17th of August the dervish steamer Ismailyah moved out into the middle of the Nile, carrying one of the boilers fully charged and equipped with pistol detonator. Arrived at the selected spot, the great cylinder of powder was dropped over the side. Its efficiency as a destructive engine was immediately demonstrated, for, on the string being pulled by accident, the pistol discharged itself, the powder exploded, and the Ismailyah and all on board were blown to pieces. Undeterred by the loss of life, and encouraged by the manifest power of the contrivance, the Khalifa immediately ordered the second of the two boilers to be sunk in the stream. As the old Egyptian officer had been killed by the explosion, the amir in charge of the arsenal was entrusted with the perilous business. He rose, however, to the occasion, and having first taken the precaution of letting the water into the boiler so as to damp the powder, he succeeded in laying the second mine in midstream, to the joy and delight of Abdullah, who, not understanding that it was now useless, overwhelmed him with praise and presence. Beguiled with such stories and diversions, the day of rest at Wadi el-Abid passed swiftly. Night brought beetles, bugs, and ants, and several men were stung by scorpions, a most painful, though not dangerous, affair. Towards morning it began to rain, and everyone was drenched and chilled when the sun rose across the river from behind a great conical hill and dispersed the cloud into wisps of creamy flame. Then we mounted and set out. This day the army moved prepared for immediate action, and all the cavalry were thrown out ten miles in front in a great screen which reached from the gumboats on the river to the camel-core far out in the desert. When we had advanced a little further, there arose above the scrub the dark outlines of a rocky peak, the hill of Merah. The whole of the twenty-first lancers now concentrated, and trotting quickly forward occupied this position, once a considerable tract of country was visible. We were hardly twenty-five miles from cartoom, and of that distance at least ten miles were displayed. Yet there were no enemy. Had they all fled, would there be no opposition? Should we find Anderman deserted or submissive? These were questions which occurred to every one. And many answered them affirmatively. Colonel Martin had, meanwhile, heliographed back to the Sardar that all the ground was up to this point clear, and that there were no dervishes to be seen. After some delay orders were signalled back for one squadron to remain till sunset in observation on the hill and for the rest to return to camp. With two troops thrown out a mile in front we waited watching on the hill. Time passed slowly, but the sun was hot. Suddenly it became evident that one of the advanced troops was signalling energetically. The message was spelled out. The officer with the troop perceived dervishes in his front. We looked through our glasses. It was true. There, on a white patch of sand, among the bushes of the plain, were a lot of little brown spots, moving slowly across the front of the cavalry outposts towards an Egyptian squadron which was watching far out to the westward. There may have been seventy horsemen altogether. We could not take our eyes off those distant specks we had travelled so far, if possible, to destroy. Presently the dervish patrol approached our right troop and apparently came nearer than they imagined for the officer who commanded, Lieutenant Connolly, open fire on them with carbines, and we saw them turn and ride back, but without hurrying. The camp to which we returned was a very different place from the one we had left in the morning. Instead of lying along the river bank, it was pitched in the thinner scrub. The bushes had on all sides been cut down, the ground cleared, and an immense Ablong Zariba was built, around which the six brigades were drawn up, and into which cavalry, guns, and transport were closely packed. Very early next morning the advance was continued. The army paraded by starlight, and with the first streak of the dawn the cavalry were again flung far out in advance. Secured behind the screen of horsemen and camel-corps, the infantry advanced in regular array. Up to the 27th of August the force marched by divisions, but on and after the 30th of August the whole force commenced to march in fighting formation. The British division was on the left, the Egyptian army on the right. All the brigades marched in line or in a slight echelon. The flank brigades kept their flank battalions in column or in fours. Other British battalions had six companies in the front line, in company columns of fours, and two companies in support. The Egyptian brigades usually marched with three battalions in the front line, and one in reserve, each of the three in the front having four companies in front, and two in support. The spectacle of the moving army, the grand army of the Nile, as it advanced towards its goal was especially wonderful in the clear air of the early morning. A long row of great brown masses of infantry and artillery, with a fringe of cavalry dotting the plane for miles in front, with a camel-core, chocolate-colored men on cream-colored camels, stretching into the desert on the right, and the white gun-boats stealing silently up the river on the left, scrutinizing the banks with their guns, while far in the rear the transport trailed away into the mirage, and far in front the field-glass disclosed the enemy's patrols. Day after day, an hour after hour, the advance was maintained. Arrived at the camping ground the Zareba had to be built, and this involved a long afternoon of fatigue. In the evening, when the dusty, tired-out squadrons returned, the troopers attended to their horses, and so went to sleep in peace. It was then that the dusty, tired-out infantry provided sentries and pickets, who in a ceaseless succession paced the Zareba and guarded its occupants. The position of the next camp was a strong one, on a high swell of open ground which afforded a clear field of fire in every direction. Every one that night lay down to sleep with a feeling of keen expectancy. One way or the other all doubts would be settled the next day. The cavalry would ride over the currery hills, if they were not occupied by the enemy, and right up to the walls of Omderman. If the Dervishes had any army, if there was to be any battle, we should know within a few hours. The telegrams which were dispatched that evening were the last to reach England before the event. During the night heavy rain fell, and all the country was drenched. The telegraph wire had been laid along the ground, as there had been no time to pull it. The sand when dry is a sufficient insulator, but when wet its non-conductivity is destroyed, hence all communications ceased, and those at home who had husbands, sons, brothers, or friends in the expeditionary force were left in an uncertainty as great as that in which we slept, and far more painful. The long day had tired everyone. Indeed the whole fortnight, since the cavalry convoy had started from the Atbara, had been a period of great exertion, and the Lancers, officers and men, were glad to eat a hasty meal, and forget the fatigues of the day, the hardness of the ground, and the anticipations of the morrow, in deep sleep. The camp was watched by the infantry, whose labours did not end with the daylight. At two o'clock in the morning the clouds broke in rain and storm. Great blue flashes of lightning lit up the wide expanse of sleeping figures, of crowded animals, and of shelters fluttering in the wind, and from the centre of the camp it was even possible to see for an instant the continuous line of sentries who watched throughout the night with ceaseless vigilance. Nor was this all. Far away, near the quarry hills, the yellow light of a burning village shot up, unquenched by the rain, and only invisible in the brightest flashes of the lightning. There was war to the southward. CHAPTER XIV The British and Egyptian Cavalry Supported by the Camel Corps and Horse Artillery, trotted out rapidly, and soon interposed a distance of eight miles between them and the army. As before the twenty-first Lancers were on the left nearest the river, and the cadavial squadrons curved backwards in a wide half-moon to protect the right flank. Meanwhile the gunboat flotilla was seen to be in motion. The white boats began to ascend the stream leisurely. Yet their array was significant. Hitherto they had moved at long and indefinite intervals, one following perhaps a mile or even two miles behind the other. Now a regular distance of about three hundred yards was observed. The orders of the cavalry were to reconnoiter Umberman, of the gunboats, to bombard it. As soon as the squadrons of the twenty-first Lancers had turned the shoulder of the steep quarry hills, we saw in the distance a yellow-brown pointed dome rising above the blurred horizon. It was the Maudi's tomb, standing in the very heart of Umberman. From the high ground the field-glass disclosed rows and rows of mud-houses, making a dark patch on the brown of the plain. To the left the river, steel-gray in the morning light, forked into two channels, and on the tongue of land between them the gleam of a white building showed among the trees. Before us were the ruins of cartoom and the confluence of the blue and white niles. A black, solitary hill rose between the quarry position and Umberman. A long, low ridge running from it concealed the ground beyond. For the rest there was a wide rolling, sandy plain of great extent, surrounded on three sides by rocky hills and ridges, and patched with coarse, starveling grass or occasional bushes. By the banks of the river which framed the picture on the left stood a straggling mud village, and this, though we did not know it, was to be the field of Umberman. It was deserted. Not a living creature could be seen. And now there were many who said once and for all that there would be no fight, for here we were arrived at the very walls of Umberman and never an enemy to bar our path. Then, with four squadrons looking very tiny on the broad expanse of ground, we moved steadily forward, and at the same time the Egyptian cavalry and the Camel Corps entered the plain several miles further to the west, and they too began to trot across it. It was about three miles to the last ridge which lay between us and the city. If there was a dervish army, if there was to be a battle, if the Caliph would maintain his boast and accept the arbitrement of war, much must be visible from that ridge. We looked over. At first nothing was apparent except the walls and houses of Umberman, and the sandy plains sloping up from the river to distant hills.  It was the enemy. It seemed to us, as we looked, that there might be three thousand men behind a high dense syriba of thornbushes. That, said the officers, was better than nothing. It is scarcely necessary to describe our tortuous movements towards the dervish position. Looking at it now from one point of view, now from another, but always edging nearer, the cavalry slowly approached and halted in the plain about three miles away. Three great serpents of men, the light-colored one, the twenty-first Lancers, a much longer and a blacker one, the Egyptian squadrons, a modelled one, the camel-core and horse-artillery. From this distance a clearer view was possible, and we distinguished many horsemen riding about the flanks and front of the broad dark line which crowned the crest of the slope. A few of these rode carelessly towards the squadrons to look at them. They were not apparently acquainted with the long range of the Lee-Metford Carbine. Several troops were dismounted, and at eight hundred yards fire was made on them. Two were shot and fell to the ground. Their companions, dismounting, examined them, picked up one, let the other lie, and resumed their ride, without acknowledging the bullets by even an increase of pace. While this passed so did the time. It was now nearly eleven o'clock. Suddenly the whole black line which seemed to be Zareba began to move. It was made of men, not bushes. Behind it other immense masses and lines of men appeared over the crest, and while we watched, amazed by the wonder of the sight, the whole face of the slope became black with swarming savages. Four miles from end to end, and as it seemed, in five great divisions, this mighty army advanced swiftly. The whole side of the hill seemed to move. Between the masses horsemen galloped continually. Before them many patrols dotted the plane. Above them waved hundreds of banners, and the sun, glinting on many thousand hostile spear points, spread a sparkling cloud. It is now known that the Califa had succeeded in concentrating at Amderman an army of more than sixty thousand men. He remembered that all the former victories over the Egyptians had been won by the Dervishes attacking. He knew that at all the recent defeats they had stood on the defensive. He therefore determined not to oppose the advance at Shabluka or on the march, thence to Amderman. All was to be staked on the issue of a great battle on the planes of Correre. The Mahdi's prophecy was propitious. The strength of the Dervish army seemed overwhelming. When the Turks arrived they should be driven into the river. Accordingly the Califa had only watched the advance of the expeditionary force from Wad Chamed with a patrol of cavalry about two hundred strong. On the thirtieth he was informed that the enemy drew near, and on the thirty-first he assembled his bodyguard in regular army, with the exception of the men needed for the river-batteries, on the Amderman parade ground. He harangued the leaders, and remained encamped with his troops during the night. The next day all the male population of the city were compelled to join the army in the field, and only the gunners and garrisons on the river-face remained within. In spite, however, of his utmost vigilance nearly six thousand men deserted during the nights of the thirty-first of August and the first of September. This and the detachments in the forts reduced the force actually engaged in the battle to fifty-two thousand men. The host that now advanced towards the British and Egyptian cavalry was perhaps four thousand stronger. Their array was regular and precise, and, facing northeast, stretched for more than four miles from flank to flank. A strong detachment of the Mullah Zaman, or guard, was extended in front of the center. Ali Huad Helu, with his bright green flag, prolonged the line to the left, and his five thousand warriors, chiefly of the Degheim and Kananah tribes, soon began to reach out towards the Egyptian cavalry. The center and main force of the army was composed of the regular troops, formed in squares under Asman Sheikh Eddin and Asman Azraq. This great body comprised twelve thousand black riflemen and about thirteen thousand black and Arab spearmen. In their midst rose the large dark green flag, which the Sheikh Eddin had adopted to annoy Ali Huad Helu, of whose distinctive emblem he was inordinately jealous. The Khalifa with his own bodyguard, about two thousand strong, followed the center. In rear of all marched Yaqub with a black flag and thirteen thousand men, nearly all swordsmen and spearmen, who with those extended in front of the army, constituted the guard. The right wing was formed by the brigade of the Khalifa Sharif, consisting of two thousand Danagla tribesmen, whose principal ensign was a broad red flag. Asman Dignah, with about seventeen hundred Hadandoa, guarded the extreme right and the flank nearest Omderman, and his fame needed no flag. Such was the great army which now moved swiftly towards the watching squadrons, and these, pausing on the sandy ridge, pushed out a fringe of tentative patrols, as if to assure themselves that what they saw was real. The Egyptian cavalry had meanwhile a somewhat different view of the spectacle. Working on the right of the twenty-first lancers, and keeping further from the river, the leading squadrons had reached the extreme western end of the Qareri Ridge at about seven o'clock. From here the Madi's tomb was visible, and since the rocks of Surgam did not obstruct the view from this point, the British officers, looking through their field-glasses, saw what appeared to be a long column of brown spots moving southwestwards across the wide plain, which stretches away to the west of Omderman. The telescope, an invaluable aid to reconnaissance, developed the picture. The brown objects proved to be troops of horses grazing, and beyond, to the southward, camels and white-flapping tents could be distinguished. There were no signs that a retreat was in progress, but from such a distance, nearly four miles, no certain information could be obtained, and Colonel Broadwood decided to advance closer. He accordingly led his whole command southwestward towards a round topped hill which rose about four miles from the end of the Qareri Ridge, and was one of the more distant hill features bounding the plain on the western side. The Egyptian cavalry moved slowly across the desert to this new point of observation. On their way they traversed the end of the core Shambat, a long depression which is the natural drainage channel of the plains of Qareri and Omderman, and joins the Nile about four miles from the city. The heavy rain of the previous night had made the low-ground swampy, and pools of water stood in the soft wet sand. The passage, however, presented no great difficulty, and at half past eleven the Egyptian squadrons began to climb the lower slopes of the round-topped hill. Here the whole scene burst suddenly upon them. Scarcely three miles away the dervish army was advancing with the regularity of parade. The south wind carried the marshal sound of horns and drums and, far more menacing, the deep murmur of a multitude to the astonished officers. Like the twenty-first lancers, three miles away to their left, at the end of the long sandy ridge which runs westward from Surgam, the soldiers remain for a space spellbound. But all eyes were soon drawn from the thrilling spectacle of the dervish advance by the sound of guns on the river. At about eleven o'clock the gun-boats had ascended the Nile and now engaged the enemy's batteries on both banks. Throughout the day the loud reports of their guns could be heard.  The forts, which mounted nearly fifty guns, replied vigorously.  The embrasures were smashed to bits, and many of the dervish guns dismounted. The rifle trenches which flanked the forts were swept by the maximum guns. The heavier projectiles, striking the mud walls of the works and houses, dashed the red dust high into the air and scattered destruction around. Despite the tenacity and courage of the dervish gunners, they were driven from their defences and took refuge among the streets of the city. The Great Wall of Omdermen was breached in many places, and a large number of unfortunate noncombatants were killed and wounded. Meanwhile the Arab Irregulars, under Major Wortley, had been sharply engaged. That officer's orders were to co-operate with the flotilla by taking in rear the forts and fortified villages on the east bank of the river. As soon as the gun boats had silenced the lower forts, Major Wortley ordered the Irregulars to advance on them and on the houses. He placed the JLN, who were practically the only trustworthy men in his force, in reserve, and formed the tribes according to their capabilities and prejudices. On the order to attack being given, the whole force, some three thousand strong, advanced on the buildings from which the dervishes at once opened fire. Arrived within five hundred yards they halted, and began to discharge their rifles in the air, they also indulged in frantic dances expressive of their fury and valor, but declined to advance any further. Major Wortley then ordered the JLN to attack. These, formed in a long column, animated by the desire for vengeance, and being besides brave men, moved upon the village at a slow pace, and, surrounding one house after another, captured it and slew all its defenders, including the dervish Amur and three hundred fifty of his followers. The JLN themselves suffered a loss of about sixty killed and wounded. The village being captured, and the enemy on the east bank killed or dispersed, the gun boats proceeded to engage the batteries higher up the river. The Howitzer battery was now landed, and at one thirty began to bombard the Maudi's tomb. This part of the proceedings was plainly visible to us, waiting and watching on the ridge, and its interest even distracted attention from the dervish army. The dome of the tomb rose tall and prominent above the mud houses of the city. A lidite shell burst over it, a great flash, a white ball of smoke, and, after a pause, the dull thud of the distant explosion. Another followed. At the third shot, instead of the white smoke, there was a prodigious cloud of red dust in which the whole tomb disappeared. When this cleared away we saw that, instead of being pointed, it was now flat-topped. Other shells continued to strike it with like effect, some breaking holes in the dome, others smashing off the cupolas, all enveloping it in dust. All this time the dervishes were coming nearer, and the steady and continuous advance of the great army compelled the Egyptian cavalry to mount their horses and trot off to some safer point of view. Colonel Broadwood conceived his direct line of retreat to camp threatened, and shortly after one o'clock he began a regular retirement. Eight squadrons of Egyptian cavalry and the horse artillery moved off first. Five companies of the Camel Corps, a maximum gun section, and the ninth squadron of cavalry followed as a rear guard under Major Tudway. The dervish horsemen contended themselves with firing occasional shots, which were replied to by the Camel Corps with volleys whenever the ground was suited to dismounted action. From time to time one of the more daring Arabs would gallop after the retreating squadrons, but a shot from a carbine or a threatened advance always brought the adventurous horsemen to a halt. The retirement was continued without serious interference, and the buggy ground of the Korshambat was recrossed in safety. As soon as the Egyptian squadrons, a darker mass under the dark hills to the westward, were seen to be in retirement, the twenty-first Lancers were withdrawn slowly along the sandy ridge towards the rocks of Sergam, the position once we had first seen the dervish army. The regiment wheeled about and fell back by alternate wings, dropping two detached troops to the rear and flanks to make the enemy's patrols keep their distance. But when the Arab horsemen saw all the cavalry retiring, they became very bold, and numerous small groups of fives and sixes began to draw nearer at a trot. Accordingly, whenever the ground was favourable, the squadrons halted in turn for a few minutes to fire on them. In this way perhaps half a dozen were killed or wounded. The others, however, paid little attention to the bullets and continued to pry curiously, until at last it was thought necessary to send a troop to drive them away. The score of Lancers galloped back towards the inquisitive patrols in the most earnest fashion. The dervishes, although more numerous, were scattered about in small parties, and being unable to collect they declined the combat. The great army, however, still advanced majestically, pressing the cavalry back before it, and it was evident that if the Caliph's movement continued, in spite of it being nearly one o'clock, there would be a collision between the main forces before the night. From the summit of the Black Hill of Sergum, the scene was extraordinary. The great army of dervishes was dwarfed by the size of the landscape to mere dark smears and smudges on the brown of the plain. Looking east, another army was now visible, the British and Egyptian army. All six brigades had passed the curary hills, and now stood drawn up in a crescent, with their backs to the Nile. The transport and the houses of the village of Vagaga filled the enclosed space. Neither force could see the other, though but five miles divided them. The array of the enemy was, without doubt, both longer and deeper. Yet there seemed a superior strength in the solid battalions whose lines were so straight that they might have been drawn with a ruler. The camp presented an animated appearance. The troops had piled arms after the march, and had already built a slender hedge of thorn-bushes around them. Now they were eating their dinners and in high expectation of a fight. The whole army had been ordered to stand to arms at two o'clock in formation to resist the attack which it seemed the dervishes were about to deliver. But at a quarter to two the dervish army halted. Their drill was excellent, and they all stopped as by a single command. Then suddenly their riflemen discharged their rifles in the air with a great roar. A barbaric fur de joie. The smoke sprang up along the whole front of their array, running from one end to the other. After this they lay down on the ground, and it became certain that the matter would not be settled that day. We remained in our position among the sand-hills of the ridge until the approach of darkness, and during the afternoon various petty encounters took place between our patrols and those of the enemy, resulting in a loss to them of about a dozen killed and wounded, and to us of one corporal wounded and one horse killed. Then as the light failed, we returned to the river to water-anning camp, passing into the Zareba through the ranks of the British Division, where officers and men, looking out steadfastly over the fading plain, asked us whether the enemy were coming, and if so, when. And it was with confidence and satisfaction that we replied, and they heard, probably at daylight. When the gun-boats had completed their bombardment, had sunk a dervish steamer, had silenced all the hostile batteries, and had sorely battered the body's tomb, they returned leisurely to the camp, and lay moored close to the bank to lend the assistance of their guns in case of attack. As the darkness became complete, they threw their powerful search lights over the front of the Zareba, and on to the distant hills. The wheeling beams of dazzling light swept across the desolate, not yet deserted, plain. The dervish army lay for the night along the eastern slope of the Shambat Depression. All the fifty thousand faithful warriors rested in their companies near the flags of their amours. The Khalifa slept in rear of the centre of his host, surrounded by his generals. Suddenly the whole scene was lit by a pale glare. Abdullah and the chiefs sprang up. Everything around them was bathed in an awful white illumination. Far away by the river there gleamed a brilliant circle of light, the cold, pitiless eye of a demon. The Khalifa put his hand on Osman Azraq's shoulder. Osman, who was to lead the frontal attack at dawn, and whispered, What is this strange thing? Sire, replied Osman, they are looking at us. They're at a great fear filled all their minds. The Khalifa had a small tent which showed conspicuously in the searchlight. He had it hurriedly pulled down. Some of the amours covered their faces lest the baleful rays should blind them. All feared that some terrible projectile would follow in the path of the light. And then suddenly it passed on, for the sapper who worked the lens could see nothing at that distance but the brown plain, and swept along the ranks of the sleeping army, rousing up the startled warriors as a wind sweeps over a field of standing corn. The Anglo-Egyptian army had not formed a quadrilateral camp, as on other nights, but had lain down to rest in the formation for attack they had assumed in the afternoon. Every fifty yards behind the thornbushes were double sentries. Every hundred yards of patrol with an officer was to be met. Fifty yards in rear of this line lay the battalions, the men in all their ranks armed and accoutered, but sprawled into every conceivable attitude which utter weariness could suggest or dictate. The enemy, twice as strong as the expeditionary force, were within five miles. They had advanced that day with confidence and determination. But it seemed impossible to believe that they would attack by daylight across the open ground. Two explanations of their advance and halt presented themselves. Either they had offered battle in a position where they could not themselves be attacked until four o'clock in the afternoon, and hoped that the Serdar's army, even though victorious, would have to fight a rearguard action in the darkness to the river, or they intended to make a night attack. It was not likely that an experienced commander would accept battle at so late an hour in the day. If the dervishes were anxious to attack, so much the worse for them. But the army would remain strictly on the defensive, at any rate, until there was plenty of daylight. The alternative remained a night attack. Here lay the great peril which threatened the expedition. What was to be done with the troops during the hours of darkness? In the daytime they wrecked little of their enemy, but at night, when four hundred yards was the extreme range at which their fire could be opened, it was a matter of grave doubt whether the front could be kept and they attack repelled. The consequences of the line being penetrated in the darkness were appalling to think of. The sudden appearance of crowds of figures swarming to the attack through the gloom, the wild outburst of musketry and artillery all along the Zareba, the crowds still coming on in spite of the bullets, the fire getting uncontrolled, and then a great bunching and crumpling of some part of the front, and mad confusion in which a multitude of fierce swordsmen could surge through the gap, cutting and slashing at every living thing, in which transport animals would stampede and rush wildly in all directions, upsetting every formation and destroying all attempts to restore order, in which regiments and brigades would shift for themselves and fire savagely on all sides, slaying alike friend and foe, and out of which only a few thousand, perhaps only a few hundred, demoralized men, would escape in barges and steamers to tell the tale of ruin and defeat. The picture, true or false, flamed before the eyes of all the leaders that night, but whatever their doubts may have been their tactics were bold, whatever advice was given, whatever opinions were expressed, the responsibility was Sir Herbert Kitchener's. Upon his shoulders lay the burden, and the decision that was taken must be attributed solely to him. He might have formed the army into a solid mass of men and animals, arranged the infantry four deep all round the perimeter, and dug as big a ditch or built as high as Zareba as time allowed. He might have filled the numerous houses with the infantry, making them join the buildings with hasty entrenchments, and so enclose a little space in which to squeeze cavalry, transport, and guns. Instead he formed his army in a long, thin curve, resting on the river and enclosing a wide area of ground, about which baggage and animals were scattered in open order and luxurious accommodation. His line was but too deep, and only two companies per battalion, and one Egyptian brigade, Collinsons, were in reserve. He thus obtained the greatest possible development of fire, and waited, prepared if necessary to stake everything on the arms of precision, but hoping with fervor that he would not be compelled to gamble by night. The night was, however, undisturbed, and the moonlit camp, with its anxious generals, its weary soldiers, its fearful machinery of destruction, all strewn along the bank of the Great River, remained plunged in silence, as if brooding over the chances of the morrow and the failures of the past, and hardly four miles away another army, twice as numerous, equally confident, equally brave, were waiting impatiently for the morning, and the final settlement of the long quarrel. CHAPTER XI. THE BATTLE OF OMDRMAN. CHAPTER II. 1898. The bugles all over the camp by the river began to sound at half-past four. The cavalry trumpets and the drums and fives of the British division joined the chorus, and everyone awoke amid a confusion of merry or defiant notes. Then it grew gradually lighter, and the cavalry mounted their horses, the infantry stood to their arms, and the gunners went to their batteries. While the sun, rising over the Nile, revealed the wide plain, the dark rocky hills and the waiting army. It was as if all the preliminaries were settled, the ground cleared, and nothing remained but the final act and the rigor of the game. Even before it became light, several squadrons of British and Egyptian cavalry were pushed swiftly forward to gain contact with the enemy and learn his intentions. The first of these, under Captain Bering, occupied Sergum Hill, and waited in the gloom until the whereabouts of the dervishes should be disclosed by the dawn. It was a perilous undertaking, for he might have found them unexpectedly near. As the sun rose, the twenty-first lancers trotted out of the syriba and threw out a spray of officers' patrols. As there had been no night attack, it was expected that the dervish army would have retired to their original position or entered the town. It was hardly conceivable that they would advance across the open ground to attack the syriba by daylight. Indeed, it appeared more probable that their hearts had failed them in the night and that they had melded away into the desert. But these anticipations were immediately dispelled by the scene which was visible from the crest of the ridge. It was a quarter to six. The light was dim, but growing stronger every minute. There in the plain lay the enemy, their numbers unaltered, their confidence and intentions apparently unshaken. Their front was now nearly five miles long and composed of great masses of men joined together by thinner lines. Behind and near to the flanks were large reserves. From the ridge they looked dark blurs and streaks, relieved and diversified with an odd-looking shimmer of light from the spear-points. At about ten minutes to six it was evident that the masses were in motion and advancing swiftly. Their amirs galloped about and before their ranks. Scouts and patrols scattered themselves all over the front. Then they began to cheer. They were still a mile away from the hill and were concealed from the Serdar's army by the folds of the ground. The noise of the shouting was heard, albeit faintly, by the troops down by the river. But to those watching on the hill a tremendous roar came up in waves of intense sound, like the tumult of the rising wind and sea, before a storm. The British and Egyptian forces were arranged in line, with their back to the river. The flanks were secured by the gun-boats, lying moored in the stream. Before them was the rolling sandy plain, looking from the slight elevation of the ridge smooth and flat as a table. To the right rose the rocky hills of the currary position near which the Egyptian cavalry were drawn up, a dark solid mass of men and horses. On the left the twenty-first lancers, with a single squadron thrown out in advance, were halted watching their patrols, who climbed about Sergam Hill, stretched forward beyond it, or perched as we did on the ridge. The ground sloped gently up from the river, so that it seemed as if the landward ends of the Sergam and currary ridges curved in towards each other and closing what lay between. Beyond the long swell of sand which formed the western wall of this spacious amphitheater, the black shapes of the distant hills rose in misty confusion. The challengers were already in the arena, their antagonists swiftly approached. Although the dervishes were steadily advancing, a belief that their musketry was inferior encouraged a nearer view, and we trotted round the southwest slopes of Sergam Hill until we reached the sand hills on the enemy's side, among which the regiment had waited the day before. Thence the whole array was visible in minute detail. It seemed that every man of all the thousands could be examined separately. The pace of their march was fast and steady, and it was evident that it would not be safe to wait long among the sand hills. Yet the wonder of the scene exercised a dangerous fascination, and for a while we tarried. The emblems of the more famous amours were easily distinguishable. On the extreme left the chiefs and soldiers of the bright green flag gathered under Ali Wad Helu. Between this and the center the large dark green flag of Osman Sheikh Eddin rose above a dense mass of spearmen, preceded by long lines of warriors armed presumably with rifles. Over the center, commanded by Yaqub, the sacred black banner of the Khalifa floated high and remarkable. While on the right a great square of dervishes was arrayed under an extraordinary number of white flags, amid which the Red Ensign of Sharif was almost hidden. All the pride and might of the dervish empire were masked on this last great day of its existence. Riflemen who had helped to destroy Hicks, spearmen who had charged at Abu Klia, amours who saw the sack of Ghandar, baghara fresh from raiding the Shalux, warriors who had besieged Khartoum, all marched, inspired by the memories of former triumphs and embittered by the knowledge of late defeats, to chastise the impudent and accursed invaders. The advance continued. The dervish left began to stretch out across the plain towards Qarari, as I thought to turn our right flank. Their center, under the black flag, moved directly towards Surgam. The right pursued a line of advance south of that hill. This mass of men were the most striking of all. They could not have mustered fewer than six thousand. Their array was perfect. They displayed a great number of flags, perhaps five hundred, which looked at the distance white, though they were really covered with texts from the Koran, and which by their admirable alignment made this division of the Khalifa's army look like the old representations of the crusaders in the Bayer tapestry. The attack developed. The left, nearly twenty thousand strong, toiled across the plain and approached the Egyptian squadrons. The leading masses of the center deployed facing the Zareba and marched forthwith to the direct assault. As the whole dervish army continued to advance, the division with the white flags, which had until now been echeloned in rear of their right, moved up into the general line and began to climb the southern slopes of Surgam Hill. Meanwhile yet another body of the enemy, comparatively insignificant in numbers, who had been drawn up behind the white flags, were moving slowly towards the Nile, echelons still further behind their right and not far from the suburbs of Amderman. These men had evidently been posted to prevent the dervish army being cut off from the city and to secure their line of retreat, and with them the twenty-first lances were destined to have a much closer acquaintance about two hours later. The dervish center had come within range. But it was not the British and Egyptian army that began the battle. If there was one arm in which the Arabs were beyond all comparison inferior to their adversaries, it was in guns. Yet it was with this arm that they opened their attack. In the middle of the dervish line, now marching in frontal assault, were two puffs of smoke. About fifty yards short of the thorn fence, two red clouds of sand and dust sprang up where the projectiles had struck. It looked like a challenge. It was immediately answered. Great clouds of smoke appeared all along the front of the British and Sudanese brigades. One after another four batteries opened on the enemy at a range of about three thousand yards. The sound of the cannonade rolled up to us on the ridge and was re-echoed by the hills. Above the heads of the moving masses shells began to burst, dotting the air with smoke balls and the ground with bodies. But a nearer tragedy impended. The white flags were nearly over the crest. In another minute they would become visible to the batteries. Did they realize what would come to meet them? They were in a dense mass, twenty-eight hundred yards from the thirty-second field battery and the gun-boats. The ranges were known. It was a matter of machinery. The more distant slaughter passed unnoticed as the mine was fascinated by the approaching horror. In a few seconds swift destruction would rush on these brave men. They topped the crest and drew out into full view of the whole army. Their white banners made them conspicuous above all. As they saw the camp of their enemies they discharged their rifles with a great roar of musketry and quickened their pace. For a moment the white flags advanced in regular order and the whole division crossed the crest and were exposed. Fourth with the gun-boats, the thirty-second British field battery, and other guns from the Zareba opened on them. About twenty shells struck them in the first minute. Some burst high in the air, others exactly in their faces. Others, again, plunged into the sand and, exploding, dash clouds of red dust, splinters, and bullets amid their ranks. The white banners toppled over in all directions. Yet they rose again immediately as other men pressed forward to die for the Maudi's sacred cause and in the defence of the successor of the true prophet. It was a terrible sight, for as yet they had not hurt us at all and it seemed an unfair advantage to strike thus cruelly when they could not reply. Under the influence of the shells the mass of the white flags dissolved into thin lines of spearmen and skirmishers and came on in altered formation and diminished numbers but with unabated enthusiasm. And now, the whole attack being thoroughly exposed, it became the duty of the cavalry to clear the front as quickly as possible and leave the further conduct of the debate to the infantry and the maximum guns. All the patrols trotted or cantered back to their squadrons and the regiment retired swiftly into the Zareba while the shells from the gunboats screamed overhead and the whole length of the position began to burst into flame and smoke. Nor was it long before the tremendous banging of the artillery was swollen by the roar of musketry. Taking advantage of the shelter of the river bank, the cavalry dismounted, we watered our horses, waited, and wondered what was happening. And every moment the tumult grew louder and more intense until even the flickering stutter of the maxims could scarcely be heard above the continuous din. Eighty yards away, and perhaps twenty feet above us, the thirty-second field battery was in action. The nimble figures of the gunners darted about as they busied themselves in their complicated process of destruction. The officers, some standing on biscuit boxes, peered through their glasses and studied the effect. Of this I had one glimpse.  The infantry fired steadily and stolidly, without hurry or excitement, for the enemy were far away and the officers careful. Besides the soldiers were interested in the work and took great pains. But presently the mere physical act became tedious. The tiny figures seen over the slide of the back-site seemed a little larger, but also fewer at each successive volley. The rifles grew hot, so hot that they had to be changed for those of the reserve companies. The Maxim guns exhausted all the water in their jackets and several had to be refreshed from the water-bottles of the Cameron Highlanders before they could go on with their deadly work. The empty cartridge cases, tinkling to the ground, formed a small but growing heap beside each man. At all the time, out on the plain on the other side, bullets were shearing through flesh, smashing and splintering bone, blood spouted from terrible wounds, valiant men were struggling on through a hell of whistling metal, exploding shells, and spurting dust, suffering, despairing, dying. Such was the first phase of the Battle of Omderman. The Khalifa's plan of attack appears to have been complex and ingenious. It was, however, based on an extraordinary miscalculation of the power of modern weapons, with the exception of this cardinal error, it is not necessary to criticize it. He first ordered about fifteen thousand men, drawn chiefly from the army of Osman Sheikh Eddin, and placed under the command of Osman Azrak to deliver a frontal attack. He himself waited with an equal force near Sergam Hill to watch the result. If it succeeded, he would move forward with this bodyguard, the flower of the Arab army, and complete the victory. If it failed, there was yet another chance. The dervishes who were first launched against the Zariba, although very brave men, were not by any means his best or his most reliable troops. Their destruction might be a heavy loss, but it would not end the struggle. While the attack was proceeding, the valiant left, consisting of the rest of the army of Osman Sheikh Eddin, might moved unnoticed to the northern flank and curved round on to the front of the Zariba, held by the Egyptian brigade. Ali Wad-Helu was meanwhile to march to the curary hills and remain out of range, and if possible out of sight among them. Should the frontal and flank attacks be unhappily repulsed, the enemies of God, exalting in their easy victory over the faithful, would leave their strong place and march to the capture and sack of the city. Then while they were yet dispersed on the plain, with no Zariba to protect them, the chosen warriors of the true religion would abandon all concealment and hasten in their thousands to the utter destruction of the accursed, the Khalifa with fifteen thousand falling upon them from behind Sergum, Ali Wad-Helu and all that remained of Osman's army assailing them from curary. Attacked at once from the north and south, and encompassed on every side, the infidels would abandon hope and order, and Kitchener might share the fate of Hicks and Gordon. Two circumstances, which will appear as the account proceeds, prevented the accomplishment of this plan. The second attack was not executed simultaneously by the two divisions of the Dervish army, and even had it been, the power of the musketry would have triumphed, and though the expeditionary force might have sustained heavier losses, the main result could not have been affected. The last hopes of barbarism had passed with the shades of night. Colonel Broadwood, with nine squadrons of cavalry, the Camel Corps, and the horse artillery, had been ordered to check the Dervish left, and prevent it enveloping the downstream flank of the Zariba, as this was held by the Egyptian Brigade, which was not thought desirable to expose to the full weight of an attack. With this object, as the Dervishes approached, he had occupied the Carriere Ridge with the horse battery and the Camel Corps, holding his cavalry and reserve in rear of the center. The Carriere Ridge, to which reference has so frequently been made, consists of two main features, which rise to the height of about three hundred feet above the plain, are each above a mile long, and run nearly east and west, with a dip or trough about one thousand yards wide between them. The eastern ends of these main ridges are perhaps one thousand yards from the river, and in this intervening space there are several rocky underfeatures and knolls. The Carriere Hills, the space is between them, and the smaller features are covered with rough boulders and angular stones of volcanic origin, which render the movement of horses and camels difficult and painful. The cavalry horses and camels were in the dip between the two ridges, and the dismounted men of the Camel Corps were deployed along the crest of the most southerly of the ridges, with their right at the desert end. Next in order to the Camel Corps, the center of the ridge was occupied by the dismounted cavalry. The horse artillery were on the left. The remainder of the cavalry waited in the hollow behind the guns. The tempestuous advance of Osman soon brought him into contact with the dismounted force. His real intentions are still a matter of conjecture. Whether he had been ordered to attack the Egyptian brigade, or to drive back the cavalry, or to disappear behind the Carriere Hills in conformity with Ali Wad Helu, is impossible to pronounce. His action was, however, clear. He could not safely assail the Egyptians with a powerful cavalry force threatening his left rear. He therefore continued his move across the front of the Zareba. Keeping out of the range of infantry fire, bringing up his right, and marching along due north, he fell upon broadwood. This officer, who had expected to have to deal with small bodies on the dervish flank, found himself suddenly exposed to the attack of nearly fifteen thousand men, many of whom were riflemen. The Sardar, seeing the situation from the Zareba, sent him an order to withdraw within the lines of infantry. Colonel Broadwood, however, preferred to retire through the Carriere Hills to the northward, drawing Osman after him. He replied to that effect. The first position had soon to be abandoned. The dervishes, advancing in a northeasterly direction, attacked the Carriere Hills obliquely. They immediately enveloped the right flank of the mounted troops, holding them. It will be seen from the map that as soon as the dervish riflemen gained a point west, and in prolongation of the trough between the two ridges, they not only turned the right flank, but also threatened the retreat of the defenders of the southerly ridge, for they were able to sweep the trough from end to end with their fire. As soon as it became certain that the southerly ridge could not be held any longer, Colonel Broadwood retired the battery to the east end of the second, or northern ridge. This was scarcely accomplished when the dip was unfolded, and the cavalry and camel corps who followed lost about fifty men and many horses and camels killed and wounded. The camel corps were the most unfortunate. They were soon encumbered with wounded, and it was now painfully evident that in rocky ground the dervishes could go faster on their feet than the soldiers on their camels. Pressing on impetuously at a pace of nearly seven miles an hour, and unchecked by a heavy artillery fire from the Zareba, and a less effective fire from the horse battery, which was only armed with seven-pounder crops of an obsolete pattern, the Arabs rapidly diminished the distance between themselves and their enemies. In these circumstances Colonel Broadwood decided to send the camel corps back to the Zareba, under cover of a gunboat, which, watchfully observing the progress of the fight, was coming downstream to assist. The distance which divided the combatants was scarcely four hundred yards, and decreasing every minute. The cavalry were drawn up across the eastern or river end of the trough. The guns of the horse battery fired steadily from their new position on the northern ridge. But the camel corps were still struggling in the broken ground, and it was clear that their position was one of great peril. The dervishes already carpeted the rocks of the southern ridge with dull yellow swarms, and heedless of the shells which still assailed them in reverse from the Zareba, continued to push their attack home. On the very instant that they saw the camel corps make for the river, they realized that those they had deemed their prey were trying, like a huddled animal, to run to ground within the lines of infantry. With that instinctive knowledge of war which is the heritage of savage peoples, the whole attack swung to the right, changed direction from north to east, and rushed down the trough and along the southern ridge towards the Nile, with a plain intention of cutting off the camel corps and driving them into the river. The moment was critical. It appeared to the cavalry commander that the dervishes would actually succeed, and their success must involve the total destruction of the camel corps. That could not, of course, be tolerated. The whole nine squadrons of cavalry assumed a preparatory formation. The British officers believed that a terrible charge impended. They would meet in direct collision the swarms of men who were hurrying down the trough. The diversion might enable the camel corps to escape. But the ground was bad. The enemy's force was overwhelming. The Egyptian troopers were prepared to obey, but that was all. There was no exalted enthusiasm such as, at these moments carries sterner breeds to victory. Few would return. Nevertheless, the operation appeared inevitable. The camel corps were already close to the river, but thousands of dervishes were running swiftly towards them at right angles to their line of retreat, and it was surgeon that if the camelry attempted to cross this new front of the enemy, they would be annihilated. Their only hope lay in maintaining themselves by their fire near the river bank until help could reach them, and in order to delay and weaken the dervish attack, the cavalry would have to make a desperate charge. But at the critical moment the gun-boat arrived on the scene and began suddenly to blaze and flame from maximum guns, quick-firing guns, and rifles. The range was short. The effect tremendous. The terrible machine, floating gracefully on the waters, a beautiful white devil, wreathed itself in smoke. The river slopes of the quarry hills, crowded with the advancing thousands, sprang up into clouds of dust and splinters of rock. The charging dervishes sank down in tangled heaps. The masses in rear paused, irresolute. It was too hot even for them. The approach of another gun-boat completed their discomforture. The camel-core, hurrying along the shore, slipped past the fatal point of interception and saw safety and the Zareba before them. Exasperated by their disappointment, the soldiers of Osman Sheikh Eddin turned again upon the cavalry, and, forgetting in their anger the mobile nature of their foe, pursued the elusive squadrons three long miles to the north. The cavalry, intensely relieved by the escape of the camel-core, played with their powerful antagonists as the bandillero teases the bull. Colonel Broadwood thus succeeded in luring this division of the dervish army far away from the field of battle where they were sorely needed. The rough ground, however, delayed the horse battery. They lagged, as the camel-core had done, and caused constant anxiety. At length two of their guns stuck fast in a marshy spot, and as several men and horses were shot in the attempt to extricate them, Broadwood wisely ordered them to be abandoned, and they were soon engulfed in the dervish masses. Encouraged by this capture, the horsemen of Osman's command daringly attacked the retreating cavalry. But they were effectually checked by the charge of a squadron under Major Mayan. Both gun-boats, having watched the camel-core safely into the Zareba, now returned with a current and renewed their attack upon the Arabs.  Through the gap thus opened, Broadwood and his squadrons trotted to rejoin the main body, picking up on the way the two guns which had been abandoned. While these things were passing on the northern flank, the frontal attack was in progress. The debris of the white flags joined the center, and the whole fourteen thousand pressed forward against the Zareba, spreading out by degrees and abandoning their dense formations and gradually slowing down. Had about eight hundred yards from the British Division, the advance ceased, and they could make no headway. Opposite the Sudanese, who were armed only with the Martini-Henry rifle, the assailants came within three hundred yards, and one brave old man carrying a flag fell at a hundred fifty paces from the sheltered trench. But the result was conclusive all along the line. The attack was shattered. The leader, clad in his new jibba of many colors, rode on steadfastly towards the inexorable firing line until, pierced by several bullets, he fell lifeless. Such was the end of that stubborn warrior of many fights, wicked Osman Azrak, faithful unto death. The surviving dervishes lay down on the ground, unable to advance, they were unwilling to retire, and their riflemen, taking advantage of the folds of the plain, opened and maintained an unequal combat. By eight o'clock it was evident that the whole attack had failed. The loss of the enemy was more than two thousand killed, and perhaps as many wounded. To the infantry, who were busy with their rifles, it had scarcely seemed to fight. Yet all along the front bullets had whizzed over and into their ranks, and in every battalion there were casualties. Captain Caldecott of the Warwicks was killed. The Camerons had two officers, Captain Clark and Lieutenant Nicholson, severely wounded. The Grenadiers won, Captain Bagot. Colonel F. Rhodes, as he sat on his horse near the Maxim Battery of the first British Brigade, was shot through the shoulder and carried from the field, just as the attack reached its climax. There were, besides the officers, about one hundred fifty casualties among the soldiers. The attack languished. The enemy's riflefire continued, and as soon as the heavy firing ceased it began to be annoying. The ground, although it appeared flat and level to the eye, nevertheless contained depressions and swellings which afforded good cover to the sharpshooters, and the solid line behind the Zareba was an easy target. The artillery now began to clear out these depressions by their shells, and in this work they displayed a searching power very remarkable when their flat trajectory is remembered. As the shells burst accurately above the dervish skirmishers and spearmen who were taking refuge in the folds of the plane, they rose by hundreds and by fifties to fly. Instantly the hungry and attentive Maxims and the watchful infantry opened on them, sweeping them all to the ground, some in death, others in terror. Again the shells followed them to their new concealment. Again they rose, fewer than before, and ran. Again the Maxims and the rifles spluttered. Again they fell, and so on until the front of the Zareba was clear of unwounded men for at least half a mile. A few escaped, some notwithstanding the vices of which they have been accused, and the perils with which they were encompassed, gloriously carried off their injured comrades. After the attack had been broken, and while the front of the Zareba was being cleared of the dervish riflemen, the twenty-first lances were again called upon to act. The Sardar and his generals were all agreed on one point. They must occupy Omderman before the dervish army could get back there. They could fight as many dervishes as cared to come in the plane. Among the houses it was different. As the Khalifa had anticipated, the Infidels, exalting in their victory, were eager, though for a different reason, to seize the city. And this they were now in a position to do. The Arabs were out in the desert. A great part of their army was even as far away as Qarari. The troops could move on interior lines. They were bound to reach Omderman first. The order was therefore given to march on the city at once. But first the Sergum Ridge must be reconnoitred, and the ground between the Zareba and Omderman cleared of the dervishes, with infantry if necessary, but with cavalry if possible, because that would be quicker. As the fuselage slackened, the Lancers stood to their horses. Then General Gathaker, with Captain Brooke and the rest of his staff, came galloping along the rear of the line of infantry and guns, and shouted for Colonel Martin. There was a brief conversation, an outstretched arm pointing at the ridge, an order, and we were all scrambling into our saddles and straightening the ranks in high expectation. We started at a trot, two or three patrols galloping out in front, towards the high ground, while the regiment followed en masse, a great square block of ungainly brown figures and little horses, hung all over with water-bottles, saddlebags, picketing gear, tins of bully-beef, all jolting and jangling together, the polish of peace gone, soldiers without glitter, horsemen without grace, but still a regiment of like cavalry in active operation against the enemy.