This tribe was now hunted down over the whole country, and Abdel Baki succeeded in securing a few hundred of them, as well as Taher Wad Sheikh el Obeid, who had been instigating them, and these were all brought to the capital. The influential El Obeid family had taken a very prominent part in the siege of Khartum, but after the Mahdi's death they had become discontented and were not on good terms with the Khalifa; Taher had, therefore, been ordered to leave Rufaa and settle in Omdurman.

On reaching Khojali, which is just opposite to Omdurman on the other bank, he wrote to the Khalifa to say that his father, who since his death had been revered as a saint in the Gezireh on account of his holiness, and who had received innumerable presents on account of his power in preserving the lives of infants, had appeared to him in a dream, telling him to stay at Khojali and make that the headquarters of the family; he was not, therefore, able to come to Omdurman. Taher showed his sagacity in refusing to comply with the order; but Abdullah, whose earnest desire it was to abolish the "saints" of the Sudan, agreed to give Taher twenty-four hours to decide whether he would come to Omdurman or not, so there was nothing for it but to go. However, after a time he was permitted to return to Rufaa, leaving his family as hostages in Omdurman. This is the Khalifa's usual mode of acting with all influential persons whom he suspects of disloyalty.

But to return to the Batahin. Most of them died of starvation and ill-treatment, sixty-nine were taken to the square opposite the beit el amana, where they were kept under a soldiers' guard whilst the Khalifa held a consultation regarding their fate. No decision was come to for some time, and this was because more gallows were being prepared. Hitherto there was only one, now there were three near the "court" zariba—two at the south end of the market-place, and one at the west end; all were provided with camel-hair ropes.

Early the following morning the war-drums were beaten, the onbeÏa sounded, and eighteen Batahin were executed, three on each gallows. Such executions have always a great attraction for the Sudanese. The eighteen men were all brought up to the gallows with their hands tied behind their backs. Without a sound or even a change of expression, they gave themselves up to their fate, or, as the Moslem says, they gave themselves up to "El Mektub" (i.e. "to that which is written"), for it is supposed that God writes down in a book the birth, experiences, and death of everyone, which things cannot be changed.

Below the gallows is an angarib, on which the condemned stands, while an immensely tall Dinka called Bringi puts the noose round the man's head, pulls it tight, fastens it to the gallows, and then draws away the angarib; and in this way the whole eighteen were soon swinging in the air, whilst the assembled masses sent up shout after shout of exultation.

It was a most horrible sight. The poor creatures wore only a miserable cloth round their loins; they had had nothing to eat for some days, and presented a most wretched condition as the wind blew their emaciated bodies backwards and forwards. All were powerful young men, and the bystanders—as is always the way with the Dervishes—vituperated them freely, accusing them of every description of wanton cruelty, whereas it is more than probable that all these just executed were entirely innocent, and were expiating the crimes of those who had been fortunate enough to escape. When all contortions were over, the bodies were untied to make room for the remainder, who had been quietly gazing at the fate of their brothers which was so soon to be theirs.

On this occasion—as it had often happened before—the cord broke under the last man's weight; but Bringi was very quick, he lost no time in joining the ends and completed his brutal work. The impressions which all those dreadful scenes left on my mind can never be obliterated. But if the fate of the eighteen was cruel, the fate of the remaining fifty-one was even worse.

The Khalifa now rode out accompanied by the cavalry and thousands of spearmen, and taking the wretched Batahin with them they marched towards the parade ground. Every now and then on the way he ordered one of them to be decapitated, and in this way twenty-four more were killed; there were now only twenty-seven left, and on arriving on the ground he sent for the butchers to cut off their hands and feet; soon there was a heap of these bleeding members, whilst the bodies of the poor Batahin lay writhing on the ground, beads of anguish pouring from their brows; yet not a cry did they utter; most of them died in a very short time. Even the most stony hearts were touched on beholding this terrible spectacle, but no one dared show it—in fact everyone tried to force a laugh or a jeer, because the Khalifa himself revelled in scenes of useless bloodshed and cruelty, while in truth the whole population of Omdurman secretly lamented it.

The bodies hung on the gallows for a day, so that everyone might see them, whilst the mothers and sisters of those who had been mutilated on the parade ground begged the Khalifa's permission to go to the spot and see if any of their relatives were still alive; they were allowed to go, and there they found a few still living; they dressed their bleeding limbs and carried them on their backs to the market-place, where they begged food for them.

Never shall I forget the face of one poor woman. With tearless eyes she bore her mutilated son in her arms, and it would be hard to say which of the two was suffering more—the mother or the son—the latter lifting up his mutilated right arm while he rested his mutilated left leg on his right to prevent anything striking the wounded stump.

It was indeed a shocking and pitiful sight. Several of the survivors of Khartum would pass by these wretched people, and staring at their wounds would shout out, "Have you forgotten Khartum?" Long after this I used to see these poor creatures dragging themselves about in the market-place begging for alms.

Soon after this the Khalifa pardoned the Batahin, and sent Ahmed Wad el Bedri to try to persuade them to come and settle in Omdurman; eventually they formed part of Nejumi's force, and were almost all killed at Toski. Thus did God's vengeance overtake them for their untold cruelties during the massacre in Khartum. It is said that the Khalifa has repented of his wanton slaughter of this tribe.

After this, fear took possession of even the bravest, and no further attempts at resistance were made; discontent was everywhere rife, not in Omdurman only, but throughout the provinces, and even the Baggara, who were favoured in every way, and given every possible advantage, longed to return to their own country.

It is usual, when the day's work is done, for neighbours to collect together in the lovely moonlight nights, for which the Sudan is so famed, and talk over matters. The conversation always turns to politics; the latest news from all directions is eagerly discussed, and often the most unlikely and impossible stories are credited. The fact is that the people long for freedom, and their smallest hopes become exaggerated into not only possibilities, but certainties. The proverb, "El gharkan yemsik fi shaaru" (i.e. "The drowning man catches at a straw"—literally, a hair), is being continually exemplified. Talk also turns much on what the Khalifa said and did, what he intends to do, what has taken place in the last council, &c. But the Khalifa, fearing that all these conversations might lead to conspiracies, ordered them to be discontinued. But nevertheless they are still carried on secretly.

Near the market-place there lived a certain fiki named Abdel Nur (i.e. the slave of light—that is to say, the slave of the light of the Prophet; though, when the Copts are called by this name, the reference is to the light of the Redeemer). The fiki's neighbours used to assemble in his house every evening, and of course the conversation always turned on Mahdiism, and the Khalifa was abused freely. Abdel Nur would talk more excitedly than the rest, and used to say that the Sudan no longer formed part of Islam, that both the Khalifa and the Mahdi were unbelievers, and this he proved by quotations from the sacred books. All this was reported by a spy to the Khalifa, who at once despatched a company of soldiers by whom the unsuspecting party were suddenly surrounded and carried off to prison.

Early the following morning Abdel Nur was brought before the judges, who asked him if he had really spoken against Mahdiism. Seeing that he was now lost, he thought this a good opportunity, in the presence of such a large audience, to prove his assertion; he declared that the true Mahdi should not die in Omdurman, and that true Mahdiism would not be confined to the Sudan alone; that the people having been once deceived, the paths of wickedness should be avoided, the paths of truth followed, and the oppression of the Moslems abandoned once and for all.

The judges, who in their own hearts were convinced of the truth of Abdel Nur's assertions, were unable to browbeat him, whilst all those who listened had little doubt in their own minds of the truth of the statements of this outspoken man, but fear of the Khalifa intervened to stop them from admitting their convictions. One of the judges at length stood up, and, desiring to make an end of this dangerous and humiliating position, said to Abdel Nur: "We are with the Prophet, the Mahdi, and his Khalifa; are you with us or not?" The fiki replied, "I am not with you," whereupon the Khalifa sentenced him to death, and at ten o'clock the same morning his body was dangling from the gallows; his friends were not executed, but were severely reprimanded.

This execution was so sudden and unexpected that everyone was asking what his crime could have been, but the Khalifa was careful to send spies to all quarters to spread false reports about him, to the effect that he was an unbeliever and a magician; these spies were also told to ascertain exactly what the people said, but the latter knew they were being watched, so they said nothing and retired; the spies set fire to the fiki's clothes, and the next morning reported to the Khalifa that hell-fire had burnt them up.

But the matter was not ended here; according to the Moslem law, if an unbeliever be discovered, all his neighbours within a forty yards' radius are considered guilty, and their houses may be plundered and destroyed. This law was carried out in the fiki's case, and several families with all their goods were dragged off to the beit el mal, while their homes were occupied by the soldiers; several men were threatened with the gallows, and there was a good deal of disturbance in the town. The Khalifa's adherents were shouting, "Away with these unbelievers!" Several suspected persons were seized and kept for three days in continual fear of death.

On the third day several of the wives and families came to the Khalifa and begged his forgiveness, throwing dust on their heads and making every show of Oriental grief. On this occasion the Khalifa thought it was sufficient to thoroughly frighten them all, so on the expiration of the three days he released them and returned their property. He took this opportunity of giving an order that it was the duty of every one to report to him any fiki who was in the habit of writing amulets; spies and informers soon produced numbers of such fikis, who only saved their lives by making most solemn promises to the Khalifa that they would never again be guilty of this disobedience of orders.

On another occasion a boat-boy was accused of having said something against Mahdiism; he was hurried before the judge, confessed his crime, and was then taken off to the parade-ground, where the Khalifa ordered him to be beheaded. Ahmed el Talia was the executioner, but he made a false stroke and only gashed the youth's shoulder, but with the second blow the head was clean severed from the body.

Abdullah's jealousy and alarm for the safety of his kingdom now induced him to turn his attention to Wad Adlan. As I have already narrated, Adlan had rendered the Khalifa great services: he had put the beit el mal in good order, had regulated the accounts on the old Government system, and in order to increase the revenue without having recourse to force, he had persuaded him to open trade with Egypt.

It had been the Khalifa's original idea to erect a sort of great wall of China between Egypt and the Sudan, to prevent all ingress into his newly-acquired dominions; but Adlan was a very tactful man, and by degrees he induced the Khalifa to agree to his proposal. Ivory and gum were declared to be the monopoly of the beit el mal. Ivory comes in small quantities from Regaf and Lado, while gum, which is purchased by the beit el mal for five dollars a hundredweight, is sold out by the beit el mal to merchants for twenty dollars; the beit el mal will also accept gum as payment in lieu of money. A lively trade soon sprang up between Berber, Sawakin, Assuan, and Korosko; and Omdurman merchants were allowed to come to Sawakin and purchase goods; the beit el mal made considerable profits, and the people were less oppressed than before.

Thus did Adlan render a great service to the inhabitants of the Sudan, and through his influence many of the cruel measures of the Khalifa were altered. As long as he was in charge of the beit el mal he was very popular with all, the capital was in good hands, the markets throve, and even when the funds in the exchequer were low he had no difficulty in raising loans from rich merchants on payment of bills of exchange. Usually a loan of 5,000 to 6,000 dollars could be raised between fifteen or twenty merchants with ease, because of the feeling of security which Adlan's presence induced. The white people also owe him a deep debt of gratitude, for he gave them continuous protection.

On one occasion, when it was rumoured that the Sudan was to be invaded by Egypt, the Khalifa proposed separating all the whites and scattering them amongst the Arabs in various parts of the country, but Adlan impressed upon him the necessity of retaining them all under his own eye in Omdurman, and thereby he rendered us an immense service; his main idea was to lighten the Mahdiist yoke and relieve the oppression of the people.

But this growing contentment gradually began to be displeasing to Abdullah, whose main object was to reduce every one to poverty and to enrich his own tribe, the Baggara; thus his and Adlan's views frequently clashed, but Adlan was most prudent, and knew when to give way. What displeased the Khalifa most was to see numbers of people assembling every morning outside Adlan's door waiting for him to go to the beit el mal, where they would lay their complaints before him.

The honour they paid and the praises they heaped upon him excited the Khalifa's jealousy, and the latter frequently rebuked him sharply; but he took no notice of these outbursts, and in a fit of anger he was, on one occasion, thrown into chains for fourteen days. On his release Adlan now thought that the Khalifa could not get on without him, and began to show less submission to his master's will than before. This still further widened the breach between him and Abdullah, which was made worse by Adlan's many enemies, who envied him his high position.

The Khalifa's brother Yakub was his most dangerous rival, as Adlan's popularity had rather detracted from his authority. He and others represented him to the Khalifa as a dangerous man, who might at any moment bring his influence to bear in direct opposition to the Khalifa. It is therefore not to be wondered at that Abdullah grew suspicious, and one day, when Adlan was presenting his daily report, the Khalifa took occasion to tell him that he was far from pleased with him, and blamed him for his delay in sending corn to the starving Dervishes in Dongola. Adlan answered: "What can I do? The people won't have Mahdiism any longer, and that is why I meet with so much opposition." Some say that he even said much more than this; but the Khalifa was not accustomed to be talked to in this way, so he ordered Adlan to give up his sword, and the same night he sent him to prison. This gave his rivals ample occasion to speak against him, and Yakub insisted that he should suffer death.

Adlan was very heavily chained, and forbidden all intercourse with the outside world. His arrest did not at first create much excitement, but this was due to the many false reports which were circulated regarding the cause. On the following day it was announced that he might have to suffer death, on the third day this sentence was confirmed, and a messenger was sent to Adlan to ask him if he had any choice between being hanged or having his hand and foot cut off. Adlan chose the former.

To the beating of war-drums and the sound of the onbeÏa, he was led, with his hands bound, to the market-place. Here numbers of Baggara horsemen formed a square round the scaffold, and Adlan, escorted by a guard, entered the square with firm footsteps. When he reached the foot of the gallows, the judge called on him to repeat the Shahada or Moslem creed, which he did with a clear voice, then jumped on to the angarib, adjusted the noose himself, which Bringi pulled taut, and he swung into space, whilst at the same instant the Baggaras drew their swords and flourished them in the air, to signify that a like fate would surely befall all the Khalifa's enemies. But grief was read on every face, and never before had there been such heartfelt lamentations in Omdurman.

Ibrahim Wad Adlan was a most intelligent Sudanese, with black face and aquiline nose. He was about thirty-five years of age.

After his body had been suspended for half-an-hour, Yakub, accompanied by several others, took it down, and laid it out on the angarib; the bystanders say that Yakub could not conceal his look of half repentance, half terror, as he gazed on the corpse of his victim. It was wrapped in a cotton shroud, and taken to the cemetery outside the city, where it was buried, Yakub leading the procession. That night robbers pulled out the body and stole the clothes in which it was laid, leaving the corpse on the sand to be food for hyenas.

The Khalifa's reason for sending Yakub to attend Adlan's funeral could not well be misunderstood, for every one knew that Yakub had been the prime instigator in securing his condemnation; and yet Abdullah was short-sighted enough to imagine that in thus sending his brother he might to some extent dissipate the bad impression which Adlan's execution had created.

The mourning for Adlan was both general and sincere; during his whole administration he had done no harm to anyone; he had done his utmost to smooth over difficulties and lighten oppression, and I can confidently affirm that he is the only man of whom this can be said, for, as a rule, Sudanese who rise to positions of power and authority invariably become most cruel and arbitrary.

Now what good could this execution have done for Mahdiism? No doubt the Khalifa thought to justify himself in the public estimation, because Adlan was too popular, but the real reason was, that the Khalifa feared him, for he knew that his justice and prudence had made him beloved by the people.

With the one exception that Adlan had opened commerce with Egypt, chiefly through the secret intermediary of a former Khartum merchant named Abdel Majid, I do not believe there was anything else against him. It was said that letters had been found, purporting to have been written by Adlan, in which he had begged the Egyptian Government to retake possession of the Sudan; but this statement, had it been true, would have been announced far and wide by the Khalifa; this, however, had not been done, and it was generally agreed that it was entirely fear on the Khalifa's part which prompted him to take Adlan's life.

All his property was confiscated, and his friends persecuted. Some of the latter, after his death, remembered that he had told them how, when studying in Cairo, an old woman had foretold that he would die a violent death. For long he paid little attention to this prophecy; but during the siege of El Obeid, he called it to mind, and thought it would perhaps be fulfilled there. But when he eventually rose to high position in Omdurman, he used to laugh at the old woman's saying. However, during his last imprisonment, he had been firmly convinced it would come true, and that was what made him so bold and firm when he actually came to look death in the face.

In place of Adlan, the Khalifa nominated his relative Ez Zaki, now Emir of Berber; but he fell ill shortly afterwards, and resigned. The Khalifa then appointed Nur el Gereifawi (that is, a native of Gereif, near Khartum). He had been in charge of the beit el mal at Berber; as Nur was an intimate friend of Adlan's, it was thought that he might suffer a like fate, but he was a crafty individual, and had sent the Khalifa 30,000 dollars, which he knew would have the desired effect.

On arrival at Omdurman he stood by the great gate to see the Khalifa; but Abdullah did not summon him that evening, so he lay that night on the ground beside the Khalifa's door—an act of humility which quite won his heart—and the next morning Nur was officially appointed Adlan's successor. In order to thoroughly impress Nur with the dangers of his new situation, the Khalifa announced to him that on the previous night he had beheld a vision, in which he had seen hell, and Ibrahim Adlan suffering untold agonies in the lowest abyss, with a long chain fastened round his neck; Nur was shackled to the other end of the chain, and Adlan was trying to drag him down into the abyss; but the Khalifa had unfastened the chain and released him.

Thus was Nur completely overawed, and did his utmost to comply with the Khalifa's and Yakub's wishes. He discharged all the Copts employed in the beit el mal, and replaced them by blacks. Awad, formerly head clerk of the Kassala Mudirieh, he appointed as his assistant, and through his astuteness and knavery he lost no opportunity of forcibly extracting money from the people.