With Kitchener in the Soudan: A Story of Atbara and Omdurman, G. A. Henty [ereader for textbooks .txt] 📗

enquired about him when we entered. When I found that he was not among the killed, I trusted that he might have escaped. I grieve much to hear that he was killed while on his way down."

"Such was the will of Allah," Khatim said. "He preserved him at the battle, He preserved him in the town, He enabled him to reach Khartoum; but it was not His will that he should return to his countrymen. I say, with Abu, that he was a good man; and while he remained with us, was ever ready to use his skill for our benefit. It was Allah's will that his son should, after all these years, come to us; for assuredly, if any other white officer had asked us to surrender, I would have refused."

"Many strange things happen by the will of God," Gregory said. "It was wonderful that, sixteen years after his death, I should find my father's journal at Hebbeh, and learn the story of his escape after the battle, and of his stay with you at El Obeid."

Gregory rode into camp between the two emirs. He paused for a minute, and handed over their followers to the officer in charge of the prisoners; and then went to the hut formerly occupied by the Khalifa, where Colonel Wingate had now established himself. Colonel Wingate came to the entrance.

"These are El Khatim and his son Abu, sir. They surrendered on learning that I was the son of the British officer whom they had protected, and sheltered, for a year after the battle of El Obeid."

The two emirs had withdrawn their swords and pistols from their sashes; and, advancing, offered them to the Colonel. The latter did not offer to receive them.

"Keep them," he said. "We can honour brave foes; and you and your followers were ready to fight and die, when all seemed lost. Still more do I refuse to receive the weapons of the men who defended an English officer, when he was helpless and a fugitive; such an act would, alone, ensure good treatment at our hands. Your followers have surrendered?"

"They have all laid down their arms," Khatim said.

"Do you give me your promise that you will no more fight against us?"

"We do," Khatim replied. "We have received our weapons back from you, and would assuredly not use them against our conquerors."

"In that case, Emir, you and your son are at liberty to depart, and your men can return with you. There will, I trust, be no more fighting in the land. The Mahdi is dead. His successor proved a false prophet and is dead also. Mahdism is at an end, and now our object will be to restore peace and prosperity to the land.

"In a short time, all the prisoners will be released. Those who choose will be allowed to enter our service. The rest can return to their homes. We bear no enmity against them. They fought under the orders of their chiefs, and fought bravely and well. When they return, I hope they will settle down and cultivate the land; and undo, as far as may be, the injuries they have inflicted upon it.

"I will write an order, Mr. Hilliard, to release at once the men you have brought in. Then I will ask you to ride, with these emirs, to a point where there will be no fear of their falling in with our cavalry."

"You are a generous enemy," Khatim said, "and we thank you. We give in our allegiance to the Egyptian government, and henceforth regard ourselves as its servants."

"See, Mr. Hilliard, that the party takes sufficient food with it for their journey to El Obeid."

Colonel Wingate stepped forward, and shook hands with the two emirs.

"You are no longer enemies," he said, "and I know that, henceforth, I shall be able to rely upon your loyalty."

"We are beaten," Khatim said, as they walked away, each leading his horse. "You can fight like men, and we who thought ourselves brave have been driven before you, like dust before the wind. And now, when you are masters, you can forgive as we should never have done. You can treat us as friends. You do not even take our arms, and we can ride into El Obeid with our heads high."

"It will be good for the Soudan," Abu said. "Your father told me, often, how peace and prosperity would return, were you ever to become our masters; and I felt that his words were true. Two hours ago I regretted that Allah had not let me die, so that I should not have lived to see our people conquered. Now, I am glad. I believe all that he said, and that the Soudan will some day become, again, a happy country."

Khatim's men were separated from the rest of the prisoners. Six days' supply of grain, from the stores found in the camp, were handed over to them; together with ten camels with water skins, and they started at once on their long march. Gregory rode out for a couple of miles with them, and then took leave of the two emirs.

"Come to El Obeid," Khatim said, "and you shall be treated as a king. Farewell! And may Allah preserve you!"

So they parted; and Gregory rode back to the camp, with a feeling of much happiness that he had been enabled, in some way, to repay the kindness shown to his dead father.

Chapter 23: An Unexpected Discovery.

The victory had been a decisive one, indeed. Three thousand prisoners, great quantities of rifles, swords, grain, and cattle had been captured; together with six thousand women and children. A thousand Dervishes had been killed or wounded. All the most important emirs had been killed, and the Sheik Ed Din, the Khalifa's eldest son and intended successor, was, with twenty-nine other emirs, among the prisoners. Our total loss was four men killed, and two officers and twenty-seven men wounded in the action.

"I am much obliged to you, Mr. Hilliard," Colonel Wingate said to him, that evening, "for the valuable services you have rendered, and shall have the pleasure of including your name among the officers who have specially distinguished themselves. As it was mentioned by General Rundle and Colonel Parsons--by the former for undertaking the hazardous service of carrying despatches to the latter, and by Colonel Parsons for gallant conduct in the field--you ought to be sure of promotion, when matters are arranged here."

"Thank you very much, sir! May I ask a favour?

"You know the outline of my story. I have learned, by the papers I obtained at Hebbeh, and others which I was charged not to open until I had certain proof of my father's death, that the name under which he was known was an assumed one. He had had a quarrel with his family; and as, when he came out to Egypt, he for a time took a subordinate position, he dropped a portion of his name, intending to resume it when he had done something that even his family could not consider was any discredit to it. I was myself unaware of the fact until, on returning to Omdurman from Hebbeh, I opened those papers. I continued to bear the name by which I am known, but as you are good enough to say that you will mention me in despatches, I feel that I can now say that my real name is Gregory Hilliard Hartley."

"I quite appreciate your motives in adhering to your former name, Mr. Hartley; and in mentioning your services under your new name, I will add a note saying that your name mentioned in former despatches, for distinguished services, had been erroneously given as Gregory Hilliard only."

"Thank you very much, sir!"

That evening, when several of the officers were gathered in Colonel Wingate's hut, the latter said, when one of them addressed Gregory as Hilliard:

"That is not his full name, Colonel Hickman. For various family reasons, with which he has acquainted me, he has borne it hitherto; but he will, in future, be known by his entire name, which is Gregory Hilliard Hartley. I may say that the reasons he has given me for not having hitherto used the family name are, in my opinion, amply sufficient; involving, as they do, no discredit to himself; or his father, a brave gentleman who escaped from the massacre of Hicks's force at El Obeid; and finally died, with Colonel Stewart, at Hebbeh."

"I seem to know the name," Colonel Lewis said. "Gregory Hilliard Hartley! I have certainly either heard or seen it, somewhere. May I ask if your father bore the same Christian names?"

"Yes, sir."

"I have it now!" Colonel Lewis exclaimed, a minute or two later. "I have seen it in an advertisement. Ever since I was a boy, that name has occasionally been advertised for. Every two or three months, it appeared in the Times. I can see it plainly, now.

"'Five hundred pounds reward will be given for any information concerning the present abode, or death, of Gregory Hilliard Hartley; or the whereabouts of his issue, if any. He left England about the year 1881. It is supposed that he went to the United States, or to one of the British Colonies. Apply to Messieurs Tufton and Sons, solicitors, Lincoln's Inn Fields.'

"Do you know when your father left England?"

"He certainly left about that time. I am nineteen now, and I know that I was born a few weeks after he came out to Alexandria."

"Then there ought to be something good in store for you," Colonel Wingate said. "People don't offer a reward of five hundred pounds, unless something important hangs to it. Of course, there may be another of the same name, but it is hardly likely that anyone would bear the two same Christian names, as well as surname. Is it indiscreet to ask you if you know anything about your father's family?"

"Not at all, sir. Now that I have taken his name, I need have no hesitation in relating what I know of him. Previous to his leaving England, he married without his father's consent; and, failing to make a living in England, he accepted a situation in Alexandria; which he gained, I may say, because he was an excellent Arabic scholar, as he had spent two years in exploring tombs and monuments in Egypt. He was the second son of the Honourable James Hartley; who was brother, and I believe heir, of the Marquis of Langdale, and I should think by this time has succeeded to the title. At his death, my father's eldest brother would, of course, succeed him."

"Then, my dear fellow," Colonel Mahon said, giving him a hearty slap on the shoulder, "allow me to congratulate you. I can tell you that the title has been in abeyance, for the past fourteen years. Everyone knows the facts. Your grandfather died before the Marquis. Your uncle succeeded him, lived only three years and, being unmarried, your father became the next Earl; and has been advertised for, in vain, ever since. As, unhappily, your father is dead also, you are unquestionably the Marquis of Langdale."

Gregory looked round with a bewildered air. The news was so absolutely unexpected that he could hardly take it in.

"It seems impossible," he said at last.

"It is not only impossible, but a fact," the Colonel said. "There is nothing very surprising in it. There were only two lives between your father and the peerage; and as one was that of an old man, the second of a man certainly in the prime of life, but unmarried, why, the Jews would have lent money on the chance.

"I fancy your uncle was a somewhat extravagant man. I remember he kept a lot of race horses and so on, but he could not have dipped very seriously into the property. At any rate, there will be fourteen years' accumulations, which will put matters straight.

"I hope you have got papers that will prove you are your father's son, and that he was brother of the late Earl."

"I think there can be no difficulty about that," Gregory said. "I have letters from both my parents, a copy of their marriage certificate, and of the registers of my birth and baptism. There are some persons in Cairo who knew my father, and a good many who knew my mother."

"Then I should say that it would be quite safe sailing.

"I don't know, Lewis, whether you are not entitled to that five hundred pounds."

"I am afraid not," the other laughed. "Mr. Hartley; or rather, I should say, the Earl; would have discovered it, himself. I only recognized the name, which plenty of people would have done, as soon as they saw it in despatches."

"It will be a great disappointment to someone," Gregory said; "if they have been, for fourteen years, expecting to come in for this."

"You need not fret about that," another officer said. "The next heir is a distant cousin. He has been trying, over and over again, to get himself