Fire and sword in the Sudan : a personal narrative of fighting and serving the Dervishes, 1879-1895 . lled. Sorrowfully we collected the dead, to paythem the last honours. Amongst a heap of bodies wefound Sharaf ed Din, stabbed to the heart. In the softdamp ground we hurriedly dug rough graves, and officersand chiefs we buried in twos and threes, — a terribly sadtask. As for the poor wounded, there was little we could do forthem. Those only slightly hurt were already dressing theirown wounds; but for the severe cases, we had no means ofdressing them, and a few comforting words was all thesmall
Fire and sword in the Sudan : a personal narrative of fighting and serving the Dervishes, 1879-1895 . lled. Sorrowfully we collected the dead, to paythem the last honours. Amongst a heap of bodies wefound Sharaf ed Din, stabbed to the heart. In the softdamp ground we hurriedly dug rough graves, and officersand chiefs we buried in twos and threes, — a terribly sadtask. As for the poor wounded, there was little we could do forthem. Those only slightly hurt were already dressing theirown wounds; but for the severe cases, we had no means ofdressing them, and a few comforting words was all thesmall help we could give them. It was indeed painful tosee such suffering, and feel how utterly incapable one wasof alleviating it. Catching sight of one of my boys, whowas carrying my satchel with a few bandages in it, I tookit from him and began dressing one or two cases, when itsuddenly occurred to me that I had not seen my other boy,Morgan Hosan, who was leading one of my horses. Hewas a fine, intelligent young fellow, scarcely sixteen yearsold, honest, quiet, and brave. * Isa, said I to the boy. Fight between the Rizighat and Egyptian Troops, EFFORTS TO STEM THE TIDE OF MAHDISM. 189 carrying the satchel, where is Morgan, who was leadingmy horse Mubarak [on which were my note-books andsketches in the saddle-bags] ; he is an active fellow, andperhaps mounted the horse, and has managed to and broken-hearted, poor Isa shook his head, and, hiseyes filling with tears, he handed me a bit of my horsesbridle. What is this? I asked. Master, said he, Idid not want to make you more sorry than you are. Ifound him not far from here, lying on the ground with aspear-wound in his chest. When he saw me he smiled andwhispered, * I knew you would come and look for me. Saygood-bye to my master, and tell him I was not a did not let go his horse, and it was only when I fell downstabbed in the chest that they cut the bridle to which Iclung, and took him; show my master the bit of
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1800, bookdecade1890, bookpublisherlondo, bookyear1896
