FATHER OHRWALDER AND HIS COMPANIONS TAKEN CAPTIVE.

The storm rises in Dar Nuba—The Baggara begin to raid—Khojur Kakum of Delen—Mek Omar besieges Delen—The slave guard deserts the Mission—The priests and nuns surrender—They are sent to the Mahdi.

Leaving the Mahdi at Birket, I shall now return to the narration of the events which befell us in Jebel Nuba.

As I have already said, the first indication of a revolt occurred in our part of the country in April 1882. When the Mahdi had established himself at Gedir, the slave-hunters, whose occupation had been destroyed by the action of the Government, and who were therefore greatly incensed, were among the first to join his banners. At that time the most notorious slave-dealer was a certain Ismail Wad el Andok of Haboba, who took the opportunity, when the Government was collecting troops to attack the Mahdi, to assemble about 1,600 men and make a slave raid on Golfan-NaÏma. He had already burnt over a hundred houses and captured the inhabitants, when some of the poor Nubas who had escaped, arrived by night at Delen and urgently begged the inspector of slaves, Roversi, for help. This, Roversi gladly promised he would give them, but it required all his powers of persuasion to induce Captain Mohammed Suleiman to consent; and, indeed, there was no small risk in advancing with only eighty men—which was all Roversi could raise—to attack this powerful band of robbers. However, we put our trust in God, and asked His blessing on our humane undertaking. Roversi left that evening, guided by the terror-stricken Nubas. Golfan-NaÏma is about ten hours' journey from Delen, and Roversi, by making a forced march during the night, arrived there at daybreak, and was taken by the Nubas to a high hill, from which he could see the enemy's entire camp without being seen, and, indeed, so close was he that he could hear the horses neighing and the sheep bleating. After the men had taken a short rest, they prepared for the assault. Soon after daybreak, Roversi gave the signal for attack by a trumpet call; the enemy, taken completely by surprise, thought only of flight, but the bullets coming from every direction, gave them no time to think or look from whence they came or how many were opposed to them; they fled as rapidly as they could, leaving behind them all the people and cattle they had captured, as well as a number of their own women. Roversi's men were soon masters of the situation, and were welcomed by the relieved Nubas with every expression of joy and delight; the other Nubas, who had fled to the hills, now came down and cut off the retreat of the Arabs. Roversi captured a large quantity of loot, received the warmest thanks from the captives he had rescued, and soon after he released a number of the women whom he had taken prisoners. The large number of cattle and sheep captured from the Arabs in this expedition proved invaluable during the investment of Delen, which followed shortly afterwards. The little force now returned laden with booty of every description, and was received by the inhabitants with every manifestation of joy. This, however, was our last victory.

I must now give a short description of Delen before I proceed to narrate the events which occurred there later on. Delen, situated five days' journey to the south of El Obeid, is on one of the smallest of the mountain ranges. Jebel Delen itself consists of five hill summits, decreasing in height from south to north, the highest point being scarcely 1,500 feet above the plain. These five hills form a most picturesque group; enormous granite blocks lie piled one over the other, and the spacious cavities thus formed serve as haunts for panthers and other beasts of prey. The rain, which comes down in torrents, has washed all the soil away, leaving only the barren rocks standing in these huge piles; far in the clefts, a sort of wild fig has taken slender root, and, gradually shooting up, gives a pleasant shade, and takes off from the barren aspect which these hills would otherwise present. Of the five hills only two are inhabited, and in all there cannot be more than 2,000 inhabitants, who are remarkable for their tall and graceful figures and unusual bravery. At the foot of the northernmost hill lay our little Mission station, while at the foot of the south-east hill was situated the palisaded zariba of the soldiers; to the west and north, and close to the Mission buildings, stretched the Nuba villages, extending from the base to the summit of the hills.

The second hill from the north, which is about 600 yards from the first hill, was inhabited by the Nubas and their Khojur Kakum. Kakum was at that time a man of about fifty years of age, of commanding appearance, and greatly respected by the blacks. He used to wear wide white trousers and a gallabieh, and on his head a nicely embroidered cap with a large tassel which our sisters had made for him. He had passed his youth in Alexandria as a soldier, and acquitted himself admirably as the Khojur, not of Delen only, but also of the neighbouring hills. Numbers of people used to come and seek his blessing and advice, and when our Bishop Comboni arrived at El Obeid, he was there to beg him to send missionaries to teach his people and make men of them. He always remained faithful and loyal to the Government, and when our time of difficulty and hardship came, his continual motto was, "Eed Effendina tawileh" (i.e. "Our Khedive's hand is long")—that is to say, his power is great.

The third mountain was occupied by a certain Dogman, with a small following who were for the most part inclined to Mahdiism. For the moment this man was not dangerous, and the people on the two other hills remained loyal to us. When the whole country was up in arms against the Government, this honesty and devotion on the part of these poor Nubas was a bright exception; they would even have fought for us had it been of any use and we had deemed it necessary.

The enemies we most feared were the Baggara of the Nuba plains, who had their headquarters at Singiokai, about six hours north of Delen. These tribesmen had joined in the revolt from the beginning, and had cut off our communication with El Obeid; they had organised themselves into a corps of from 150 to 200 strong, mounted on horses, and they frequently made incursions on the people in the neighbourhood of Delen; they would suddenly appear galloping at full speed, and as suddenly disappear, destroying or seizing everything on their path. Their raids were principally directed against the Nubas who were working in the fields, and on their women who were carrying water from the wells. These robber-dervishes appeared for the first time on the 8th of April, 1882, and a cry of alarm was raised from the mountains, which echoed and re-echoed it back a hundred times.

Every one fled to the mountains, even the cattle instinctively made for their shelters. Some Nubas were attacked and killed in the woods, and twelve of the soldiers, who were out looking after the camels grazing, were all killed, with the exception of one who fell severely wounded in the back; all the camels were captured. When the Baggara had disappeared, the Nubas descended from the hills and came to the scene of the raid. On finding the dead bodies, with weeping and wailing they carried them back to the villages; the women tore their hair, rolled on the ground, and put dust on their heads. The large broad lances had made deep gaping wounds in the unfortunate soldiers who had fallen.

That night, when all was still, the widows of these poor men went to the top of a high rock and there sang a solemn dirge for the dead, which made a melancholy echo in the deep recesses of the hills. I never heard a more touching lamentation for the dead. It was as if all nature joined in sympathy with these poor people, whose happy homes had been destroyed. I was deeply affected, and the more so as I thought over the cruel fate which now seemed to be hanging over our heads.

Soon afterwards the Baggara appeared again, but this time they were seen from a distance, and by a preconcerted signal all fled to places of security, and the robbers returned empty-handed. The Nubas now wanted to lie in wait for the Baggara, and asked the captain commanding the company to assist them with twenty men. This, however, he refused to do, so we gave them twenty rifles from the Mission, and they then prepared an ambush for the unsuspecting Arabs, who a few days afterwards came riding along on their tired horses. The Nubas waited till they came quite close, and then suddenly opened fire; fifteen of the enemy fell, and the remainder galloped off at full speed; eight horses and some booty fell into the hands of the Nubas, who returned in triumph to the village, and were welcomed with great rejoicings. It was interesting to see them as they marched slowly along, leading their captured horses, while the maidens of the village danced in front of them and sang songs in honour of the braves.

We had now a short period of tranquillity, but soon afterwards the Baggara renewed their attacks, and we were in a state of constant alarm. Our information about the Mahdi was distorted and unreliable; we had practically no news from El Obeid, and we could only arrive at the conclusion that the Government was powerless, otherwise why should the Baggara attack us?

One evening the captain told us that he had certain information that we were to be massacred that night; he had heard that the Baggaras had made a compact with the Khojur Kakum and the Nubas, and that our destruction had been agreed upon. The alarm which fell upon our little colony at this news can be readily understood.

It was a very dark night, and in the distance we saw a line of fires which we took to be the Baggara camp-fires. As we all quite believed in the captain's information, we prepared ourselves for defence; but as we thought over the situation we began to wonder how it was that Kakum, who had hitherto been our sworn friend, and united to us by the tie of blood-brotherhood, should suddenly join with his bitterest enemies, the Baggara, to compass our destruction; then, if the news were false, why should we spend a night of anguish?

After some deliberation, Father Bonomi decided to ascertain the true state of affairs, and taking with him two boys and a lantern, he set off to see the Khojur himself. Full of anxious thoughts, we watched the light as it moved on towards the gap in the hills; at length it reached the base, and then began slowly ascending. An ominous silence pervaded the whole place, which was unusual, for the Nubas love gossiping till a late hour at night. Still we kept our eyes fixed on the light, which eventually disappeared. How anxiously we awaited its reappearance! Should the Khojur intend treachery, we knew we should not see Bonomi again. How slowly the time passed! But at length the light reappeared, and began to descend the hill. We breathed again; after all we should not lose our Father Bonomi.

In a few minutes he was with us again, and with a cheery laugh told us how the captain's information was all wrong, and how angry the Khojur was that we should ever have doubted him. I thereupon hastened to the soldiers' quarters, to reassure the poor captain. Mohammed Suleiman was really a good man, but he was too old and unfitted for his position. Although it was midnight, he and Roversi returned with me to the Mission, and there he related how one of his female slaves, who had a slight knowledge of the Nuba language, had gone to the Khojur to grind some dhurra, and had overheard him talking secretly with some of the Nubas; then some of them had got angry, and, standing up, beat the ground with their spears. This, the woman concluded, must mean an oath that we should be destroyed. As for the rest of the story, it was entirely the woman's invention. Everything was now explained, and our fear gave way to cheerful conversation, which we continued till dawn, when the ringing of the "ave" bell awakened the echoes of the black mountains of Delen.

At sunrise the Khojur arrived, accompanied by a number of followers and many influential Nubas. Not content with his declaration of fidelity made the previous night, the good man had come down to give us his solemn oath that, far from fighting against us, he and his men were ready to fight and die for us. In a grave speech, full of earnest fervour, he assured us of his and of the Nubas' friendship. We, on the other hand, felt certain of his loyalty, and we pledged the success of our compact in a bottle of wine, which our good friend the Khojur greatly enjoyed.

We lived in this state of uncertainty and fear for upwards of five months, not knowing what the next day would bring forth; we were entirely cut off from the rest of the world, and our peaceful work and occupations were all disturbed. We now no longer dared to expose ourselves on the plains, but confined ourselves to the hills, where we sometimes hunted the koodoo. On one occasion, when we went to the Dogman mountain, our suspicions were aroused by the way in which the people gathered round us, and showed a curious desire to examine our arms. As we were returning, the former sheikh of this district—a man named Isa—warned us not to come to the mountain again, as some of the men intended to kill us, and would have done so had they not been afraid of our arms. Roversi's rifle had a magazine for sixteen cartridges.

Early in September our position became very critical. The Mahdi, having quitted Gedir, had advanced into Kordofan; his adherents gathered round him at Birket from all directions, and from here he despatched a certain Mek Omar with letters and a small band of followers to take possession of Delen. Mek Omar arrived, and encamped on the hill with his friend Dogman, and planting his standard, he beat his war-drum incessantly, day and night. He then sent us a letter saying that the Mahdi had captured El Obeid, and that all the inhabitants had joined him, with the exception of Mohammed Said Pasha and a few soldiers who still held out in the Mudirieh buildings; at the same time Omar urged us to submit, as resistance was useless. The fact that Omar, with only fifty men, possibly less, had the audacity to pitch his camp under our very eyes, rather induced us to believe in the truth of his assertions. Roversi, however, determined to attack him, but was dissuaded from doing so by the captain.

We then held a council to consider what would be the best course to follow. After much deliberation (which is always the case in dealing with Arabs) it was unanimously decided to attempt a flight to Fashoda. The Nubas also, who offered us their services as guides, advised us to take this course. It is very probable we should have succeeded in this attempt, as almost all the Arabs who wanted to fight had followed the Mahdi to El Obeid, in anticipation of the booty which they thought would so soon be theirs.

The route to Fashoda lay far to the south of the scene of present operations, and with the eighty Remingtons of the soldiers, and our thirty good rifles, we felt confident that we should be able to make our way thither. It was therefore decided that we should start off very quietly in the dead of night. Every one made up a small bundle of the few things he wished to take, which would be required on the journey, either as presents or to buy or offer in exchange for food. We also had a sufficient number of camels, mules, and donkeys for the sisters and sick, and we had made up into bundles all that we required; we gave the rest of our things to the Nubas, so that nothing should fall into Mek Omar's hands. The Nubas gave us every possible assistance, and through the darkness we could see them moving about like ghosts amongst the black rocks, laden with every imaginable thing.

At midnight we quitted the Mission and made our way to the soldiers' zariba, hoping that we should find them all ready to start; but instead we found them all in bed, the captain had given no orders to prepare, and Roversi's influence was gone. We tried in various ways to induce the captain to give orders, but he merely answered that he was waiting till he received a reply from Mek Omar, to whom he had written. Getting impatient, he sent a trustworthy man to Omar, who never returned. It was now nearly sunrise, and all our efforts to move the captain were unavailing. Then the Khedivial National Anthem, which was always blown at reveille, was sounded, but was smothered by the deafening rattle of the noggaras; it was, as it were, a mockery, showing that the light of civilisation was about to be extinguished by the barbaric hordes of Jebel Nuba. In the meantime the soldiers had got ready of their own accord, and declared themselves willing to undergo any fatigue, and, if needs be, die for us; but the fear and irresolution shown by their captain unnerved them, and as the sun rose they one by one left the camp and submitted to Mek Omar. A very few only stayed with Roversi; and when the captain quitted the zariba, these too went over to the enemy.

Thus were we left quite alone—a party of some 200 persons, of whom the greater number were women and children. Flight was now out of the question; there was nothing left for us but to return to our homes. We did so; but what a sight met our eyes! The Nubas had carried off everything. With heavy hearts we returned to the rooms of the Mission; here everything was wrecked and ruined; what the Nubas had thought of no use to themselves they had smashed to pieces. Roversi, who had always been most loyal and true to us, now went to Mek Omar to arrange for his own safety. When the first bitterness of feeling had passed off, we discussed the next step to be taken; there was absolutely nothing left in the station, and we had not a mouthful of food left.

I then went, in company with Bonomi, to Mek Omar. This former slave-dealer—a short, crippled, and dirty old Takruri, who had been well known to us a long time ago—received us in a friendly manner. He had coffee brought to us, and related the great bravery of the Mahdi, and then concluded with the following words: "I know that you will not turn Mohammedans, you must therefore understand that your property and slaves are no longer your own; at the same time I will give you a letter to the Mahdi regarding your situation." Hard as these conditions were, we had no alternative but to accept; and when our conference was over, our arms were taken from us, and all our blacks, for whose welfare so many lives had been sacrificed and such trouble expended, were suddenly lost to us at one fell stroke. We then returned to the Mission, where we spent the night alone and on our knees.

These events took place on the 14th of September, 1882. On the morning of the 15th of September we rang for the last time the ave-bell for Heaven knows how many years. At noon Mek Omar arrived with his followers, and, chanting the Mohammedan creed, he first entered the church, and there we had the agony of beholding with our own eyes its destruction. Our blacks were taken over by Omar's troops, and attached to the Government soldiers. Omar thought that he would find some treasure, but here he was mistaken, for we had hidden the little money we had to meet our future wants; and as we had been cut off from El Obeid for seven months, we had consumed all our reserve stores; for the fourteen days previous to this we had not even any salt to mix with our food.

We had to stay on at Delen for three long days, awaiting Omar's pleasure to allow us to proceed. It was pitiable to see the cruel and brutal way in which our poor blacks were treated by Omar's followers. Before leaving we paid Khojur Kakum a visit; the poor man was filled with pity for us, and more especially for the sisters; he longed to stay with us, and, bitterly weeping, bade us farewell. He also fully expected to meet a tragic fate. We finally left our beloved Nuba hills on the 18th of September, and after endless trouble succeeded in procuring from Mek Omar four animals on which the sisters could ride. Father Bonomi, myself, and two lay brothers took it in turns to walk and ride. Our mounts consisted of a camel, a mule, and two donkeys. Mek Omar placed us in charge of his son Naser and a party of Arabs; several of the Nubas accompanied us for some distance, and as we passed Kakum's hill, we could see the poor man standing up and stretching out his hands towards us as a last farewell. Many of our young blacks also followed us, but were forced by their new masters to turn back. Our departure caused us pangs of grief which pierced us to the very core.

In the evening we reached a small hill called Kudru, at the base of which there was a well, and here we encamped for the night. Here also the Nubas came down from the rocks to greet us. We left the next morning, and our road now lay through the great grass plains. At this season of the year, besides the rain, there is always a very heavy dew which wetted us to the skin, besides we often had to ford streams up to our necks, and emerging with dripping clothes, to continue our march. We knew that this was sure to bring on fever and diarrh[oe]a, and so, indeed, it proved, shortly after our arrival at El Obeid.

At length we reached Singiokai, the head-quarters of the Baggara, and we found numbers of nomad Arabs living in tents. On our arrival, every one, old and young, hastened to look at us, and gaze on the hated captured Christians. This inquisitive and motley crowd derided us and heaped insults upon us; the ugly old women, whom one could only compare with hyenas, were perhaps the most bitter in their disgraceful taunts. We stayed here one day, and then continued our journey. Whenever we came to a village we were subjected to the rudest treatment, and had we not been guarded by our escort, we must have inevitably been killed. We were constantly searched, in the hope that money would be found on us. When we got near El Obeid, Naser put us into a hut, where we were told to remain until he should see the Mahdi, and ascertain from him his instructions regarding us. We gathered from what he said that he was going to find out whether we should be killed where we were, or brought first before the Mahdi. Thus Naser left us under strict guard.