Now, when the Khalifa Abdullah saw that the last army that remained to him
was broken, that all his attacks had failed, and that thousands of his
bravest warriors were slain, he rode from the field of battle in haste,
and, regaining the city, proceeded like a brave and stubborn soldier to
make preparations for its defence, and, like a prudent man, to arrange for
his own flight should further resistance be impossible. He ordered his
great war-drum to be beaten and the ombya to be blown, and for the last
time those dismal notes boomed through the streets of Omdurman. They were
not heeded. The Arabs had had enough fighting. They recognised that all was
lost. Besides, to return to the city was difficult and dangerous.
The charge of the 21st Lancers had been costly, but it was not ineffective.
The consequent retirement of the Dervish brigade protecting the extreme
right exposed their line of retreat. The cavalry were resolved to take full
advantage of the position they had paid so much to gain, and while the
second attack was at its height we were already trotting over the plain
towards the long lines of fugitives who streamed across it. With the
experience of the past hour in our minds, and with the great numbers of
the enemy in our front, it seemed to many that a bloody day lay before us.
But we had not gone far when individual Dervishes began to walk towards the
advancing squadrons, throwing down their weapons, holding up their hands,
and imploring mercy.
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