With Kitchener in the Soudan: A Story of Atbara and Omdurman by G. A. Henty (the beach read TXT) 📗

another half hour, reached it. At least a score of wounded men were there, many of them so sorely hurt that they would get no farther. They paid little attention to us. One of them was known to Saleh--for the wounded man told me that that was his name--he also was from El Obeid. He was suffering from a terrible cut in the shoulder, which had almost severed the arm. He told my man that it was given by one of the infidel officers, before he fell.

"I thought it was as well to have two friends, instead of one; and did what I could to bind his wound up, and fasten his arm firmly to his side. Then I said to him:

"'My horse, after three hours' rest, will be able to carry you both. You can sit behind Saleh, and hold him on with your unwounded arm.'

"'Truly, stranger, you are a merciful man, and a good one. Wonderful is it that you should give up your horse, to men who are strangers to you; and walk on foot, yourself.'

"'Allah commands us to be compassionate to each other. What is a walk of a few miles? It is nothing, it is not worth speaking of. Say no more about it, I beseech you. I am a stranger in El Obeid, and you may be able to befriend me, there.'

"Three hours later Abdullah, which was the name of the second man, mounted, and assisted me to lift Saleh in front of him, and we set out for El Obeid. We got into the town at daybreak. There were few people about, and these paid no attention to us. Wounded men had been coming in, in hundreds. Turning into the street where both the men lived, we went first to the house of Saleh, which was at the farther end, and was, indeed, quite in the outskirts of the place. It stood in a walled enclosure, and was of better appearance than I had expected.

"I went to the door, and struck my hand against it. A voice within asked what was wanted, and I said, 'I bring home the master of the house. He is sorely wounded.'

"There was a loud cry, and the door opened and a woman ran out.

"'Do not touch him,' Abdullah exclaimed. 'We will get him down from the horse, but first bring out an angareb. We will lower him down onto that.'

"The woman went in, and returned with an angareb. It was the usual Soudan bed, of wooden framework, with a hide lashed across it. I directed them how to lift one end against the horse, so that Saleh could slide down onto it.

"'Wife,' the Arab said, when this was done, 'by the will of Allah, who sent this stranger to my aid, I have returned alive. His name is Mudil. I cannot tell you, now, what he has done for me. This house is his. He is more than guest, he is master. He has promised to remain with me, till I die, or am given back to life again. Do as he bids you, in all things.'

"Abdullah would have assisted to carry the bed in, but I told him that it might hurt his arm, and I and the woman could do it.

"'You had better go off, at once, to your own people, Abdullah. There must be many here who understand the treatment of wounds. You had better get one, at once, to attend to your arm."

"'I will come again, this evening,' the man replied. 'I consider that I also owe my life to you; and when you have stayed a while here, you must come to me. My wives and children will desire to thank you, when I tell them how you brought me in here.'

"'Is there any place where I can put my horse?' I asked.

"'Yes,' the woman replied; 'take it to that door in the wall. I will go and unfasten it.'

"There was a shed in the garden. Into this I put my horse, and then entered the house.

"Most of the Arab women know something of the dressing of wounds. Saleh's wife sent out the slave, to buy various drugs. Then she got a melon from the garden, cut off the rind, and, mincing the fruit in small pieces, squeezed out the juice and gave it to her husband to drink. When she had done this, she set before me a plate of pounded maize, which was boiling over a little fire of sticks, when we went in.

"'It is your breakfast,' I said.

"She waved her hand.

"'I can cook more,' she said. 'It matters not if we do not eat till sunset.'

"I sat down at once, for indeed, I was famishing. The food had all been exhausted, at the end of the first day's fighting. I had been more than two days without eating a morsel. I have no doubt I ate ravenously, for the woman, without a word, emptied the contents of the pot into my bowl, and then went out and cut another melon for me.

"When the slave woman returned, she boiled some of the herbs, made a sort of poultice of them, and placed it on the wound. Saleh had fallen asleep, the moment he had drunk the melon juice, and did not move while the poultice was being applied.

"The house contained three rooms--the one which served as kitchen and living room; one leading from it on the right, with the curtains hanging before the door (this was Saleh's room); and on the opposite side, the guest chamber. I have not mentioned that there were four or five children, all of whom had been turned out, as soon as we entered; and threatened with terrible punishments, by their mother, if they made any noise.

"When I finished my meal I went into the guest chamber, threw myself down on the angareb there, and slept till sunset. When I awoke, I found that a native doctor had come, and examined Saleh. He had approved of what the woman had done, told told her to continue to poultice the wound, and had given her a small phial, from which she was to pour two drops into the wound, morning and evening. He said, what I could have told her, that her husband was in the hands of Allah, If He willed it, her husband would live.

"Of course, I had seen something of wounds, for in the old times--it seems a lifetime back--when I was, for two years, searching tombs and monuments with the professor, there had been frays between our workmen and bands of robbers; and there were also many cases of injuries, incurred in the work of moving heavy fragments of masonry. Moreover, although I had no actual practice, I had seen a good deal of surgical work; for, when I was at the university, I had some idea of becoming a surgeon, and attended the courses there, and saw a good many operations. I had therefore, of course, a general knowledge of the structure of the human frame, and the position of the arteries.

"So far the wound, which I examined when the woman poured in what I suppose was a styptic, looked healthy and but little inflamed. Of course, a skilled surgeon would have probed it and endeavoured to extract the ball, which had not gone through. The Soudanese were armed only with old muskets, and it was possible that the ball had not penetrated far; for if, as he had told me, he was some distance from the square when he was hit, the bullet was probably spent.

"I told the woman so, and asked her if she had any objection to my endeavouring to find it. She looked surprised.

"'Are you, then, a hakim?'

"'No, but I have been at Khartoum, and have seen how the white hakims find which way a bullet has gone. They are sometimes able to get it out. At any rate, I should not hurt him; and if, as is likely, the ball has not gone in very far--for had it done so, he would probably have died before he got home--I might draw it out.'

"'You can try,' she said. 'You have saved his life, and it is yours.'

"'Bring me the pistol that your husband had, in his belt.'

"She brought it to me. I took out the ramrod.

"'Now,' I said, 'it is most important that this should be clean; therefore, heat it in the fire so that it is red hot, and then drop it into cold water.'

"When this had been done, I took a handful of sand, and polished the rod till it shone, and afterwards wiped it carefully with a cloth. Then I inserted it in the wound, very gently. It had entered but an inch and a half when it struck something hard, which could only be the bullet. It was as I had hoped, the ball had been almost spent, when it struck him.

"Saleh was awake now, and had at once consented to my suggestion, having come to have implicit faith in me.

"'It is, you see, Saleh, just as I had hoped. I felt sure that it could not have gone in far; as, in that case, you could never have walked twenty miles, from the battlefield, to the point where you met me. Now, if I had a proper instrument, I might be able to extract the bullet. I might hurt you in doing so, but if I could get it out, you would recover speedily; while if it remains where it is, the wound may inflame, and you will die.'

"'I am not afraid of pain, Mudil.'

"I could touch the ball with my finger, but beyond feeling that the flesh in which it was embedded was not solid to the touch, I could do nothing towards getting the ball out. I dared not try to enlarge the wound, so as to get two fingers in. After thinking the matter over in every way, I decided that the only chance was to make a tool from the ramrod. I heated this again and again, flattening it with the pistol barrel, till it was not more than a tenth of an inch thick; then I cut, from the centre, a strip about a quarter of an inch wide. I then rubbed down the edges of the strip on a stone, till they were perfectly smooth, and bent the end into a curve. I again heated it to a dull red, and plunged it into water to harden it, and finally rubbed it with a little oil. It was late in the evening before I was satisfied with my work.

"'Now, Saleh,' I said, 'I am going to try if this will do. If I had one of the tools I have seen the white hakims use, I am sure I could get the ball out easily enough; but I think I can succeed with this. If I cannot, I must make another like it, so as to put one down each side of the bullet. You see, this curve makes a sort of hook. The difficulty is to get it under the bullet.'

"'I understand,' he said. 'Do not mind hurting me. I have seen men die of bullets, even after the wound seemed to heal. I know it is better to try and get it out.'

"It was a difficult job. Pressing back the flesh with my finger, I succeeded, at last, in getting the hook under the bullet. This I held firmly against it, and to my delight felt, as I raised finger and hook together, that the bullet was coming. A few seconds later, I held it triumphantly between my fingers.

"'There, Saleh, there is your enemy. I think, now, that if there is no inflammation, it will not be long before you are well and strong again.'

"'Truly, it is wonderful!' the man said, gratefully. 'I have heard of hakims who are able to draw bullets from wounds, but I have never seen it done before.'

"If Saleh had been a white man, I should still have felt doubtful as to his recovery; but I was perfectly confident that a wound of that sort would heal well, in an Arab, especially as it would be kept cool and clean. Hard exercise, life in the open air, entire absence of stimulating liquors, and only very occasionally, if ever, meat diet, render them almost insensible to wounds that would paralyse a white. Our surgeons had been astonished at the rapidity with which the wounded prisoners recovered.

"Saleh's wife had stood by, as if carved in stone, while I performed the operation; but when I produced the bullet, she burst into tears, and poured blessings on my head.

"I am writing this on the following morning. Saleh has slept quietly all night. His hand is cool this morning, and I think I may fairly say that he is convalescent. Abdullah's wife came in yesterday