CHAPTER LXII.

THE BATTLE OF THE ATBARA.

1898.

The struggle for supremacy in Egypt was far from being finally settled at Tel-el-Kebir. With the voice of discontent, bursting now and again into open revolt, with that potent influence, fanaticism, always at work, small wonder that the Soudan was the scene of perpetual conflict, and at length matters reached a crisis at the end of 1897.

The voice of rumour, growing louder and ever nearer, at length brought warning to Sir Herbert Kitchener, the Sirdar of the Anglo-Egyptian army, of threatening movements of a dervish force near Berber, and Anglo-Egyptian reinforcements were promptly hurried to the front to stem the tide of what promised to be a formidable revolt. The Egyptian army was at this time in a very complete state of organisation, thanks to the great brain which day and night watched ever its growth and prepared it against all eventualities, and now the time had come for action the ultimate issue of events was confidently awaited in Britain. General Sir Herbert Kitchener had had fifteen years’ experience of Egypt. He had been Intelligence Officer in Sir Garnet Wolseley’s campaign, commander at Suakim, fought with success again and again against Osman Digna, and finally succeeded Sir Francis Grenfell as commander-in-chief in Egypt. No man was better acquainted with the Egyptian question, and none knew better how to meet the coming difficulty.

The dervish forces were under the leadership of Mahmud and Osman Digna, and were reported to be marching steadily northward, with an ever-growing army, to attack the British force.

That force was now rapidly set in motion. With such men as Kitchener, Hunter, Macdonald, and Gatacre, to name but a few, no loss of time or energy took place, and in a few short weeks a formidable British force, admirably equipped in all arms and perfectly organised, was marching southward.

By March 1, the reinforcements were at Berber, some 25 miles from the junction of the Nile and the Atbara rivers, near which place it was rumoured that the dervish army, instead of advancing to the attack, were strongly entrenching themselves against our force. By this time the British army in the field numbered some 12,000 to 13,000 men. They were divided into four brigades. Three of these were Egyptian, under the chief command of General Hunter. The fourth was British. The first brigade, under General Macdonald, comprised the 9th, 10th and 11th Soudanese, and the 2nd Egyptian, and it is not too much to say that never had any troops, British or native, more confidence in their sturdy leader. General Macdonald had risen from the ranks, after conspicuous and repeated gallantry in Afghanistan. He had been taken prisoner in the Boer war at Majuba, and fought gallantly with his Soudanese at Gemaizeh, Tooki, and Afafit, and it is safe to say his devoted troops would have followed him wherever he might be pleased to lead them. These troops were at Berber. The second brigade, of similar constitution, three Soudanese regiments, the 12th, 13th, and 14th, together with the 8th Egyptian, was under the command of Colonel Maxwell, and quartered half way between Berber and Atbara, while at the latter place, and not far removed from the enemy’s outposts, was the third, or Egyptian, brigade, under Colonel Lewis.

The total strength of the Egyptian army was thus brought up to some 10,000 men, with 46 guns, while three gunboats operated on the Nile from Atbara. The fourth, or British, brigade, was under the charge of General Gatacre, and, after a forced and memorable march to Berber, in the first part of which the admirably constructed Egyptian railway played a valuable part, had encamped in the neighbourhood of the second brigade at Debeika. The Lincolnshire (10th), the Cameron Highlanders (79th), and the Warwickshire made up the force, while the 1st Seaforth Highlanders, under Colonel Murray, were daily expected. A maxim battery completed their equipment. Thus the total force under the Sirdar’s supreme command may be estimated at 14,000 men, with 52 guns in all.

The precise strength of the enemy was unknown, but it has been variously estimated at 15,000 to 20,000. The Arab spy is notoriously indifferent to accuracy, and thus precise particulars were almost unobtainable, in spite of the most strenuous efforts of Colonel Wingate, the chief of our Intelligence Department.

By the 16th March the whole Anglo-Egyptian force was concentrated at Kemir, some seven miles from Fort Atbara, and the men of all ranks and regiments, in the pink of condition, were keen and eager for the fight. Some days, however, were now spent in reconnoitring the enemy’s position, and in this connection invaluable services were rendered by the gunboats which patrolled the river. Almost daily did these seek a brush with the enemy’s outposts, and both loot and invaluable information were brought back to camp by the enterprising naval commanders.

Says the late G. W. Steevens, in his famous work on the campaign:--

“You may imagine that the officers of Her Majesty’s navy did not confine their work to looking on. A day or two ago, Mahmud had been transferring his war material in barges from Metemmeh to Shendi (a point some hundred miles up the Nile). Knowing the ways of ‘the devils,’ as they amiably call the gunboats, he had entrenched a couple of hundred riflemen to cover the crossing. But one gunboat steamed cheerfully up to the bank and turned on the maxims, while the other sunk one ‘nuggar’ and captured two.”

With minor engagements of this nature, and in the camp hard drill and busy preparation, the days passed by, till at length, on the morning of Sunday, March 20th, the force moved out of Kemir, southwards, in the direction from which the enemy were known to be advancing. Two days previously the long-expected Seaforths had arrived in camp, and met with a warm reception from their British and Egyptian comrades. They arrived “smiling all over, from colonel to private, to find they were in time.”

Great was the joy of all ranks when it was at length announced that Mahmud’s force was on the Atbara river, and almost certain to give battle. Rumours were rife at this time, the most credible being that Mahmud had seized the Hudi ford, a few miles south of Fort Atbara, but on reaching here on March 20th and 21st, not a dervish was to be seen. The same day, however, as Hudi was reached, the cavalry had a brush with a party of advanced dervish horse, and succeeded in chasing them off into the bush. Our men, however, lost seven troopers killed, the first casualties of the campaign.

By this time the sand and dust of the desert had been exchanged for the thickly-grown, low-lying land of the Atbara, and the change was a welcome one in many ways, though indeed the scrub afforded ample cover for the enemy. The day following this a stronger reconnoitring force encountered some more dervish cavalry, and shots were exchanged, which brought the whole army to the front hot foot, but with the emptying of a few Dervish saddles the incident terminated. Everything, however, tended to show that a general engagement could not be long delayed. And for our officers and men, the sooner it came the better, for though food was plentiful, the camp equipments were scanty, and comfort almost unknown.

Says Mr. Steevens at this stage:--“Though the Soudan can be live coals by day, it can be aching ice by night. Officers and men came alike with one blanket and no overcoat, for you must remember that we left Kemir with the intention of fighting the next day or the next.”

The Egyptian army were better off than their British comrades. Knowing the Soudan, an Egyptian officer summed up the difference of the equipments of the two armies in a single sentence:--“I’ve been in this country five years, so when I was told to bring two days’ kit, I brought a fortnight’s.”

The British, however, unprepared for the long delay, had to make the best of things, and these discomforts, added to the eagerness of the men, made a general engagement the one prayer of all. On the 27th March, Haig’s reconnaissance of the Atbara river took place, but for a distance of 18 miles not a sign of Mahmud was to be seen, only “the impenetrable, flesh-tearing jungle of mimosa spears and halfa grass, through which no army in the world could possibly attack.”

On the morning of the 27th, the 15th Egyptian, with some friendly Yadin, who had many old scores to settle with Mahmud, arrived at Shendi in three gunboats, and, surprising a large party of the enemy, captured nearly 700 prisoners, mostly women, and killed 160 of the Baggara warriors. The captives were brought down to Fort Atbara, where they “are now probably the wives of such black soldiers as are allowed to marry.”

This important encounter, the result of the Sirdar’s carefully laid plans, almost certainly forced the engagement. For, distressed at the loss of their women, and now unable to retreat to Shendi, the fighting men of Mahmud’s army must be distracted at all costs. A fight with the British must occur without delay if the Khalifa’s enterprise is to succeed. As yet the precise position of the enemy’s main force was unknown, but at last, on March 30th, General Hunter’s reconnaissance located them, and the joyful news went round the camp like wildfire.

Nakheila, 18 miles away, on the Atbara, formed the stronghold of Mahmud. The General “had gone on until he came to it,” says Steevens. “He had ridden up to within 300 yards of it and looked in. The position faced the open desert, and went right back through the scrub to the river. Round it ran a tremendous zareba.” For a few days speculation was rife in camp as to the next move. Here was the enemy at last, not attacking as expected, but waiting to be driven from his entrenched position either by bayonet or hunger. What means would be adopted to accomplish a successful issue?

The decision was not long in coming. By April 3rd, the camp was at Abadar, on the 5th at Umdabieh--nearer, ever nearer to the enemy. A brush here and there was of daily occurrence now, and raiding became part of the routine. The description by Mr. Steevens of the scene of one such raid gives a vivid picture of the state of affairs at this juncture.

He was returning with the camel corps convoy from Fort Atbara, whither during the days of waiting they had ridden for supplies, when “suddenly one of the men discerned cases lying opened on the sand about a hundred yards off the trampled road. Anything for an incident. We rode listlessly up and looked. A couple of broken packing-cases, two tins of sardines, a tin of biscuits half empty, a small case of empty soda bottles with Sirdar stencilled on it, and a couple of empty bottles of whisky. Among them lay a cigarette box, a needle and reel of cotton, and a badge--A.S.C.--such as the Army Service Corps wear on their shoulder-straps. We were on the scene of last evening’s raid. Two camels, we remembered, had been cut off and their loads lost.” With such incidents as these, and another reconnaissance in force by Hunter, terminating in a miniature battle with seventeen casualties, the evening of the 7th April arrived. In the early morning of the 8th, Good Friday, the long-expected battle was to be fought.

Dawn was the hour fixed for the attack. Unlike the approach to Tel-el-Kebir, the night of the march immediately preceding the battle on the Atbara was conspicuous for its brilliant moonlight. At six the force moved out of Umdabieh. At seven a halt was called, and till nearly one o’clock the troops rested. Some ate, some slept, but all were at last assured of the certainty of the morrow’s action. At one o’clock the march was resumed, and, under the guidance of Bunbashi Fitton of the Egyptian army, the dervish zareba was cautiously, but surely, approached by the Anglo-Egyptian squares. Between four and five another halt took place, and the prospective battle was discussed in low tones in the prevailing cold. Some slept once more, others shivered, waiting for the dawn. At length the sun rose and disclosed the enemy’s position right in front and the serried ranks of Britain ready to give battle.

Says Mr. Steevens:--“The word came, and the men sprang up. The squares shifted into the fighting formations, and at one impulse, in one superb sweep, nearly 12,000 men moved forward towards the enemy.... The awful war machine went forward into action.”

Twenty-four guns, under Colonel Long, were on the right flank, and 12 maxims were divided among the right and left flanks and the centre. Crash! broke out the roar of artillery, and in an instant the front of Mahmud’s camp was raked from end to end. The puffs of smoke floated lazily across the foreground as the iron hail tore its way into the quick-set hedge of the zareba, and here and there flames sprang out where the rockets compassed their work of relentless destruction. Once during the awful cannonade the dervish cavalry formed up on the extreme left of the position, emerging from the bush in handfuls, but a heavy maxim fire soon drove them back. For fully half an hour the enemy made no reply, and then, after this interval, the bullets began to whistle over the heads of the Anglo-Egyptian force. As at Tel-el-Kebir, the fire of the dervishes was aimed too high, and little damage was done.

At 7.30 the “Cease Fire!” sounded, and the infantry moved forward to the attack. The commanding officers of the various regiments made stirring speeches to their men. Colonel Murray, addressing the Seaforth Highlanders, said:--“The news of victory must be in London to-night.” General Gatacre’s words were to the point, “there was to be no question about this, they were to go right through the zareba and drive the dervishes into the river.” The moment had arrived. The bugles sounded the “Advance!” the pipes screamed out “The March of the Cameron Men” with that voice of glorious memories and lust for battle which the pipes convey when heard in war, and the force swept forward on the foe.

Upon the Camerons fell a prominent part. They were to clear the front with a hot rifle fire, and while some were doing this others were to tear opens in the zareba or surmount it by scaling ladders. Next behind them followed the Lincolns, the Seaforths, and the Warwickshires. For a few moments as the force rushed forward, the enemy made never a sound. Then suddenly, as the Camerons reached the crest of the ridge overlooking the zareba, the murderous fire broke out. Fortunately, as always in the Soudanese campaigns, the fire was for a great part too high, and the casualties, though heavy, were not so great as might have been expected. Meanwhile, General Macdonald’s brigade advanced, and only about a minute elapsed from the time the combined force crowned the rise of the hill till the Camerons and Soudanese had torn down the zareba and made way for the main body of the army.

“General Gatacre, accompanied by Private Cross, was actually the first at the zareba,” says an eye-witness. “Cross, of the Camerons, bayoneted a big dervish who was aiming point blank at the General.” The simultaneous right attack by the Egyptians and Soudanese was also a fine spectacle. General Hunter himself, helmet in hand, led his men on to the zareba, but thirty yards from it was a strong stockade, backed by entrenchments, and this too had to be stormed. It was a thrilling quarter of an hour, and nothing could be finer than the way these almost insurmountable obstacles were tackled by our troops, and that in the face of the hottest fire imaginable from the dervish defenders.

Inside the zareba, from behind stockades, and from holes in the ground swarmed the black, half-naked dervishes, running everywhere, turning now and again to fire at their assailants, but making ever for the river. Scores of them lay stretched upon the ground. The slaughter was awful. Gradually the ground grew clearer. The maxims had galloped right up to the stockade and poured their merciless fire into the living contents of the zareba. The Warwicks “were volleying off the blacks as your beard comes off under a keen razor.” Death and destruction reigned on every side.

But the British had lost heavily. Captains Findlay and Urquhart of the Camerons had been killed storming the zareba. Lieutenant Gore of the Seaforths fell in the same place, and, indeed, most of our casualties were sustained at this place. “Never mind me, lads; go on!” called Captain Urquhart as he fell stricken; and go on they did, killing and slaying at every step. Piper Stewart of the Camerons was killed leading the way.

The fight was now practically over. Only the pursuit remained. On stumbled our men over the broken ground till suddenly there “came a clear drop under foot--the river. And across the trickle of water the quarter mile of dry sandbed was a flypaper with scrambling spots of black. The pursuers thronged the bank in double line,” says Mr. Steevens, “and in two minutes the paper was still black spotted, only the spots scrambled no more.” “Now that,” panted the most pessimistic senior captain in the brigade, “now I call that a very good fight!” Shortly after this the “Cease Fire!” sounded, and only the cavalry pursuit remained.

Nearly 4000 prisoners had been taken, including Mahmud himself, who was found hiding beneath a native litter. Zeki, formerly Governor of Berber, was killed. Osman Digna, wily to the last, had again escaped, but all the other important dervish emirs were among the dead. The former, with his horsemen, at an early period of the action got into the river bed and made off in the direction of Damara. They were pursued by General Lewis’s cavalry, but the jungle on the river banks was so dense that the pursuit had to be abandoned. Colonel Broadwood, however, chased a large party of dervishes into the desert, where he captured a number of prisoners.

The British casualties were three officers and 18 men killed, with 88 wounded. Four British officers and two British non-commissioned officers belonging to the Egyptian and Soudanese brigades, and 14 native officers were wounded, while the native regiments lost 50 killed and 319 wounded.

Other accounts put the total Anglo-Egyptian loss at 81 killed and 493 wounded, out of the 12,000 men in action. The dervish dead alone numbered 3000, and Mahmud’s ten guns and hordes of prisoners showed the significance of the crushing victory at the Atbara. The jubilation among the British force was great, and loud cheers marked the termination of the battle. After the engagement, the Sirdar, who had been under fire all the morning, rode over the battlefield. He was received with enthusiastic cheers by every regiment of the British brigade, which he thanked individually for their gallant victory. He also received an ovation from the Egyptian and Soudanese, among whose trophies were a great number of standards, spears, and drums, in recognition of the signal gallantly shown by the native troops.

The Sirdar provisionally promoted on the field a sergeant-major of each native battalion which crossed the zareba, to subaltern rank. In conversation with Colonel Money, whose helmet had been traversed by a bullet, the Sirdar, referring to the slow and steady advance of the Camerons under a withering fire when attacking the zareba, said:--“It was one of the finest feats performed for many years. You ought to be proud of such a regiment.” Colonel Money replied that he was “right proud of it.”

In the afternoon the three British officers killed and the 18 British soldiers who fell in the action were buried on the gravelly slope near the zareba where they met their fate, and the graves were afterwards covered with a zareba to prevent their desecration. “The burial service,” says an eye-witness, “was most impressive. It was attended by the Sirdar, Generals Hunter and Gatacre and their respective staffs, by every officer off duty, and by detachments of all the regiments. No farewell shots were fired, but a firing party presented arms, and the band of the 11th Soudanese and the Highland pipers played laments.”

Inside the zareba, visited after the fight, the dervishes lay dead in scores, choking the rifle pits and entrenchments, and “it was curious,” says one who was present at this exploration of the late battlefield, “to see the Soudanese soldiers filling their water-bottles from a pool containing dead dervishes.” About an hour after sunset, the wearied troops returned to their camp at Umbadieh, which they reached about three o’clock on the Saturday morning. The wounded started an hour or two later.

The captive Mahmud attracted much attention, and all were eager to catch a glimpse of the famous Arab leader. To the Sirdar, who interviewed him, he said little but that the campaign had been conducted at the Khalifa’s orders. He preserved a stoical silence on all other subjects, and seemed indifferent as to his fate. He was described by those who saw him as a remarkable-looking man, of grand physique and good features. “He has,” says one of these, “a dignified presence, and a quite natural haughty disregard of the common herd. He looks intelligent and strong-willed. He is being well treated. In his captured stronghold were found six heads fixed on poles, and one body, dreadfully mutilated.”

On the Sunday following the battle, when the camp had been moved from Umbadieh to Abadar, a great church parade was held, and a thanksgiving service for victory conducted by the chaplains of all denominations present with the forces. At its conclusion the British Brigade was formed up in square, and the Sirdar, advancing to the centre, read a telegram from the Queen, which filled the heart of every listener with pride. “I greatly rejoice,” said Her Majesty, “at brilliant victory.” And then, with her infallible consideration and womanly sympathy, “I desire to be fully informed as to the state of the wounded.” Needless to say, the reading of this message provoked the wildest enthusiasm, and at the call of the Sirdar three hearty cheers for the Queen rent the stifling desert air. Other congratulations were to follow. From the Khedive, Mr. Balfour on behalf of the Government, Lord Lansdowne, Lord Cromer, and others too numerous to mention heartfelt expressions of joy and pride kept pouring in, and “In short,” said the Sirdar, in conclusion, “everyone is extremely proud of the conduct of the army in the field.”

It is impossible to take leave of the battle of the Atbara without quoting somewhat extensively from the narrative of a soldier who was through the fight. Corporal Inglis, of the Cameron Highlanders, gives a vivid picture of the great engagement:--

“As we approached the enemy’s position,” writes this gallant non-commissioned officer, “my feelings got a bit of a shock. I was thinking of home, and wondering if that day was to finish my existence, when a large flock of vultures came swooping down, and settled right in front of us. I had often read about them, but never saw them before. Some instinct surely tells them of a coming battle. It made a lot of our fellows feel queer for a bit, as the big brutes kept walking up and down, looking at us. We moved on till within 500 yards of the enemy’s front. We could see all was bustle and excitement within the camp. We halted, charged magazines with several rounds, and sat down with fixed bayonets, and for the next hour were interested spectators of the Egyptian artillery shelling the enemy.... Just as the advance sounded, one of our men was shot through the head. We ran under a heavy fire till within one hundred yards of the zareba, when we got on the knee and poured in five terrible volleys. What a terrific noise! We could see the enemy looking over their zareba and laughing in our faces, all the while keeping up a heavy fire upon us. We ran till close to the zareba. I was in the front rank, and another chap and I caught hold of a branch, and, turning, hauled it clean away, leaving the palms of our hands badly torn and bleeding. Men at other parts did the same, and as soon as the dervishes saw their protection giving way, they jumped out of the pits (in which they were lying), fired a volley into our midst, and eventually turned tail. Clutching my rifle in my hand, the fearful work now began of bayoneting the dervishes in the pits. Lots of them could not get out, and they fought in desperate fashion.”

The treachery of the dervishes is well shown by the same graphic narrator:--

“One lance-corporal was running up the hill through their huts when three of them made for him. He shot one, bayoneted another, and then the third man threw down his spear and held up his hands (in token of surrender). The lad pointed to the rear, allowing his captive the way to take for safety, and was in the act of running after the enemy again, when the man he had spared picked up a rifle and blew the lance-corporal’s brains out. General Gatacre was running up behind, and, seeing the incident, gave the dervish such a blow with his sword that he nearly severed his head from his body. After that the order was given to show no mercy. It was not easy to distinguish the men from the women. A woman was on the point of being stabbed, when the fellow discovered his mistake and, laughing, turned away, when she immediately ran a spear clean through him. In an instant four bayonets pierced her body. On ceasing fire I found myself alone, wondering how I had escaped, and a fervent ‘thank God!’ escaped my lips.”

With such stirring tales as this the battle of the Atbara was brought to a successful issue, and crushing was its effect upon the forces of the Khalifa. Not until September were the dervish forces able once more to confront the arms of Britain, and then for the last time.