The actual pursuit was abortive.  Colonel Lewis, with his two battalions, followed a line of advance which led south of the zeriba, and just before reaching the river bank found and fired upon a few Dervishes retreating through the scrub.  All the cavalry and the Camel Corps crossed the Atbara and plunged into the bush on the further side.  But so dense and tangled was the country that after three miles of peril and perplexity they abandoned he attempt, and the routed Arabs fled unmolested.  The Baggara horse had ridden off during the action, headed by the prudent Osman Digna —­whose position in the zeriba was conveniently suited to such a manoeuvre—­and under that careful leadership suffered little loss.  The rest of the army was, however, destroyed or dispersed.  The fugitives fled up the Atbara river, leaving many wounded to die in the scrub, all along their line of retreat.  Of the powerful force of 12,000 fighting men which Mahmud had gathered at Metemma, scarcely 4,000 reached Gedaret in safety.  These survivors were added to the army of Ahmed Fedil, and thus prevented from spreading their evil tidings among the populace at Omdurman.  Osman Digna, Wad Bishara, and other important Emirs whose devotion and discretion were undoubted, alone returned to the capital.

As soon as the troops were re-formed, the zeriba was evacuated and the army drew up in line along the neighbouring ridge.  It was then only nine o’clock, and the air was still cool and fresh.  The soldiers lit fires, made some tea, and ate their rations of biscuits and meat.  Then they lay down and waited for evening.  Gradually, as the hours passed, the sun became powerful.  There was no shade, and only a few thin, leafless bushes rose from the sand.  The hours of a day, peculiarly hot, even for the country and season, dragged wearily away.  The sandy ridge beat back the rays till the air above was like the breath of a furnace and the pebbly ground burned.  The water in the fantasses and bottles was hot and scarce.  The pool of the Atbara was foul and tainted.  In spite of the devoted efforts of the few medical officers who had been allowed to accompany the force, the wounded officers and soldiers endured the greatest miseries, and it is certain that several died of their wounds who might in happier circumstances have been saved.

Several hundred prisoners were taken.  They were mostly negroes—­for the Arabs refused to surrender, and fought to the last or tried to escape.  The captive blacks, who fight with equal willingness on either side, were content to be enlisted in the Soudanese regiments; so that many of those who served the Khalifa on the Atbara helped to destroy him at Omdurman.  The most notable prisoner was the Emir Mahmud—­a tall, strong Arab, about thirty years old.  Immediately after his capture he was dragged before the Sirdar.  ‘Why,’ inquired the General, ’have you come into my country to burn and kill?’ ‘I have to obey my orders, and so have you,’ retorted the captive sullenly, yet not without a certain dignity.  To other questions he returned curt or evasive answers, and volunteered the opinion that all this slaughter would be avenged at Omdurman.  He was removed in custody—­a fine specimen of proud brutality, worthy perhaps of some better fate than to linger indefinitely in the gaol at Rosetta.