In the morning Gregory started alone, as soon as it was light. As he neared the town, he saw that there were several native craft on the river; and that boats were passing to and fro between the town and Shendy, on the opposite bank. From the water side a number of men were carrying what appeared to be bags of grain towards the hills behind the town, while others were straggling down towards the river.
Without being questioned, Gregory entered Metemmeh, but stopped there for a very few minutes. Everywhere were the bodies of men, women, and children, of donkeys and other animals. All were now shrivelled and dried by the sun, but the stench was almost unbearable, and he was glad to hurry away.
Once beyond the walls he made for the hill. Many tents could be seen there, and great numbers of men moving about. He felt sure that, among so many, no one would notice that he was a newcomer; and after moving among the throng, he soon sat down among a number of Dervishes who were eating their morning meal. Taking some dates out of his bag, he munched them quietly.
From the talk going on, he soon perceived that there was a considerable amount of discontent at the long delay. Some of the men were in favour of moving to Berber, on the ground that they would at least fare better there; but the majority were eager to march north, to drive the infidels from Merawi and Dongola.
"Mahmud would do that, I am sure," one of them said, "if he had but his will; but how could we march without provisions? It is said that Mahmud has asked for a sufficient supply to cross the Bayuda, and has promised to drive the infidels before him to Assouan; but the Khalifa says no, it would be better to wait till they come in a strong body, and then to exterminate them. If we are not to fight, why were we sent here? It would have been better to stay at Omdurman, because there we had plenty of food; or, if it ran short, could march to the villages and take what we wanted. Of course the Khalifa knows best, but to us it seems strange, indeed."
There was a general chorus of assent. After listening for some time Gregory rose and, passing over the ridge, came upon the main camp. Here were a number of emirs and sheiks, with their banners flying before the entrance of their tents. The whole ground was thickly dotted with little shelters, formed of bushes, over which dark blankets were thrown to keep out the rays of the sun. Everywhere women were seated or standing--some talking to each other, others engaged in cooking. Children played about; boys came in loaded with faggots, which they had gone long distances to cut. In some places numbers of horses were picketed, showing where the Baggara cavalry were stationed.
In the neighbourhood of the emirs' tents there was some sort of attempt at order, in the arrangement of the little shelters, showing where the men of their tribes were encamped. Beyond, straggling out for some distance, were small encampments, in some of which the men were still erecting shelters, with the bushes the women and boys brought in. Most of these were evidently fresh arrivals, who had squatted down as soon as they came up; either from ignorance as to where their friends had encamped, or from a preference for a quiet situation. This fringe of new arrivals extended along the whole semicircle of the camp; and as several small parties came up while Gregory wandered about, and he saw that no notice was taken of them by those already established, he thought that he could bring Zaki, and the horses up without any fear of close questioning. He therefore walked down again to the spot where he had left them; and, mounting, they rode to the camp, making a wide sweep so as to avoid the front facing Metemmeh.
"We could camp equally well, anywhere here, Zaki, but we may as well go round to the extreme left; as, if we have to ride off suddenly, we shall at least start from the nearest point to the line by which we came."
There was a small clump of bushes, a hundred yards or so from the nearest of the little shelters. Here they dismounted, and at once began, with their knives, to cut down some of the bushes to form a screen from the sun. They had watered the horses before they left the river, and had also filled their water skins.
"I don't think we could find a better place, Zaki," Gregory said, when, having completed their shelter and thrown their blankets over it, they lay down in the shade. "No doubt we shall soon be joined by others; but as we are the first comers on this spot, it will be for us to ask questions of them, and, after, for them to make enquiries of us.
"I shall go into the camp as soon as the heat abates, and people begin to move about again. Remember our story--You were carried off from a Jaalin village, in a raid. Your master was a small sheik, and is now with the force at El Obeid. You had been the companion of his son, and when the latter made up his mind to come and fight here your master gave you your freedom, so that you might fight by his son's side. You might say that I have not yet settled under whose banner I shall fight. All I wish is to be in the front of the battle, when we meet the infidels. That will be quite sufficient. There are men here from almost every village in the Soudan, and no one will care much where his neighbours come from.
"Mention that we intend to fight as matchlock men, not on horseback, as the animals are greatly fatigued from their long journey, and will require rest for some time; and, being so far from home, I fear that we might lose them if we went into the fight with them; and in that case might have to journey on foot, for a long time, before we could get others.
"I don't at all suppose that it will be necessary for you to say all this. People will be too much occupied with their own affairs to care much about others; still, it is well not to hesitate, if questioned."
Talk and laughter in the great camp ceased now, and it was not until the sun lost its power that it again began. Gregory did not move, till it began to get dusk.
"I shall be away some time," he said, "so don't be at all uneasy about me. I shall take my black blanket, so that I can cover myself with it and lie down, as if asleep, close to any of the emirs' tents where I hear talk going on; and so may be able to gather some idea as to their views. I have already learned that the tribesmen have not heard of any immediate move, and are discontented at being kept inactive so long. The leaders, however, may have their plans, but will not make them known to the men, until it is time for action."
The camp was thoroughly alive when he entered it. Men were sitting about in groups; the women, as before, keeping near their little shelters, laughing and chatting together, and sometimes quarrelling. From the manner of the men, who either sat or walked about, it was not difficult for Gregory to distinguish between the villagers, who had been dragged away from their homes and forced to enter the service of the Khalifa, and the Baggara and kindred tribes, who had so long held the Soudan in subjection. The former were quiet in their demeanour, and sometimes sullen in their looks. He had no doubt that, when the fighting came, these would face death at the hands of the infidels as bravely as their oppressors, for the belief in Mahdism was now universal. His followers had proved themselves invincible; they had no doubt that they would destroy the armies of Egypt, but they resented being dragged away from their quiet homes, their families, and their fields.
Among these the Baggara strode haughtily. Splendid men, for the most part, tall, lithe, and muscular; men with the supreme belief in themselves, and in their cause, carrying themselves as the Norman barons might have done among a crowd of Saxons; the conquerors of the land, the most trusted followers of the successor of the Mahdi, men who felt themselves invincible. It was true that they had, so far, failed to overrun Egypt, and had even suffered reverses, but these the Khalifa had taught them to consider were due to disobedience of his orders, or the result of their fighting upon unlucky days. All this was soon to be reversed. The prophecies had told that the infidels were about to be annihilated, and that then they would sweep down without opposition, and possess themselves of the plunder of Egypt.
Gregory passed wholly unnoticed among the crowd. There was nothing to distinguish him from others, and the thought that an Egyptian spy, still less one of the infidels, should venture into their camp had never occurred to one of that multitude. Occasionally, he sat down near a group of the Baggara, listening to their talk. They were impatient, too, but they were convinced that all was for the best; and that, when it was the will of Allah, they would destroy their enemy. Still, there were expressions of impatience that Mahmud was not allowed to advance.
"We know," one said, "that it is at Kirkeban that the last great destruction of the infidel is to take place, and that these madmen are coming to their fate; still, we might move down and destroy those at Dongola and along the river, and possess ourselves of their arms and stores. Why should we come thus far from Omdurman, if we are to go no farther?"
"Why ask questions?" another said contemptuously. "Enough that it is the command of the Khalifa, to whom power and knowledge has been given by the Mahdi, until he himself returns to earth. To the Khalifa will be revealed the day and the hour on which we are to smite the infidel. If Mahmud and the great emirs are all content to wait, why should we be impatient?"
Everywhere Gregory went, he heard the same feelings expressed. The men were impatient to be up and doing, but they must wait the appointed hour.
It was late before he ventured to approach the tents of the leaders. He knew that it was impossible to get near Mahmud himself, for he had his own bodyguard of picked men. The night, however, was dark and, enveloping himself from head to foot in his black blanket, he crawled out until well beyond the line of tents, and then very cautiously made his way towards them again. He knew that he should see the white figures of the Dervishes before they could make him out; and he managed, unnoticed, to crawl up to one of the largest tents, and lie down against it. He heard the chatter of the women in an adjoining tent, but there was no sound in that against which he lay.
For an hour all was quiet. Then he saw two white figures coming from Mahmud's camp, which lay some fifty yards away. To his delight, they stopped at the entrance of the tent by which he was concealed, and one said:
"I can well understand, Ibrahim Khalim, that your brother Mahmud is sorely vexed that your father will not let him advance against the Egyptians, at Merawi. I fully share his feelings; for could I not, with my cavalry, sweep them before me into the river, even though no footmen came with me? According to accounts they are but two or three thousand strong, and I have as many horsemen under my command."
"That is so, Osman Azrakyet. But methinks my father is right. If we were to march across the desert, we would lose very many men and great numbers of animals, and we should arrive weakened and dispirited. If we remain here, it is the Egyptians who will have to bear the hardships of the march across the desert. Great numbers of the animals that carry the baggage and food, without which the poor infidels are unable to march, would die, and the weakened force would be an easy prey for us."
"That is true," the other said, "but they may come now, as they came to Dongola, in their boats."
"They have the cataracts to ascend, and the rapid currents of the Nile............