CHAPTER XIV

ALARUMS AND EXCURSIONS

Mulai Hafid had signed a treaty with France in the preceding November, to the extreme discontent of most of his subjects. On the 17th of April the rebellion broke out in Fez. The Sultan, besieged within his palace walls, sent post-haste to Casablanca to ask for French troops. There was fighting round the sanctuary of Mulai Idris, one of the most venerated places in Morocco, and several European officers, who had been employed as instructors to the Sherifian forces, were killed and their mutilated bodies displayed to the excited populace. The hotel-keeper was shot on his own threshold, and the mutineers proceeded to massacre everyone in the building, except a few French officers who, after gallantly defending an outbuilding until it was set on fire, escaped to the house of a Sherif who was friendly to their country.

The celebrated Father Fabre, and one or two companions had barricaded themselves in a room of the hotel, and defended it so well that they effected the temporary retirement of the enemy. Unfortunately, cries from the street attracted the priest’s attention and he insisted on going out to give absolution to the dying. For a few moments the gallant Father was allowed to move among the bodies lying outside the hotel. He found one man who was seriously wounded but still alive, and tried to lift him into the shelter of an archway, for bullets were flying over them from both sides of the street. This action exasperated the short patience of the Moors, and one of them struck him down with the butt of a rifle. His brains ran out over the man whom he had been trying to save!

The crowds shouted their approbation and proceeded to set fire to the hotel. Fortunately, the flames did not spread, for old Fez is like a rabbit-warren, where the eaves of the houses lean together, shutting out the light from the labyrinthine paths they border. The next day the massacre continued, and the victims, or such portions of them as remained after the vengeance of the mob had been satisfied, were hung on the gates of the town. The atrocities might have been even worse but for the intervention of the Sherif referred to, who secretly harboured all the Christians who came to him, and even sent his servants into the street to rescue the wounded.

French troops made forced marches from the coast, but they had some days’ fighting before they could take possession of the city. With their advent, peace was restored, but Mulai Hafid, realising that his reign was ended, retired to Rabat and spent his last months of sovereignty arguing with France as to the amount of pension he should receive, in return for his abdication. The repercussion of all this agitation was felt in the Spanish zone.

“Silvestre asked for more troops from Spain,” said Raisuli, “and I agreed with him that the situation was difficult, but the mountaineers have never had great friendship for the Sultan, and now their anger was directed against Mulai Hafid, not against the French. They said, ‘He has betrayed Islam! He has sold us to the Christians,’ and had he remained long in the country, not all his guards could have protected him. At this time Silvestre and I worked faithfully together to keep peace among the tribes, for had there been a Jehad, I should have been obliged, either to put myself at the head of it, or to lose the respect of my country for ever.

“The Colonel was now fully persuaded of my sincerity and, when he was called to Madrid to report on the occurrences across the Luccus he promised me to press my claims for the Caliphate. Ullah, there is much mystery in Spanish politics. Do you see that beetle?” I watched a lumbering brown insect, unpleasantly like a cockroach, scuttling to and fro in aimless dashes. At one moment its rush brought it almost to Raisuli’s feet as he sat hunched up in the sagging chair. At another it scurried equally blindly towards the sunshine which gilded the carpets by the tent door. “That animal is like the policy of Spain. It has no decision, and it makes first for one object, then for another. A dozen times Spain could have conquered this country by force of arms, but always, at the last moment, her Government has fallen, or her officials here have been recalled. There are so many different interests, and each has its own plans. One comes to me here and says, ‘It is only the soldiers who have power. Make a bargain with them, for they are the friends of the King.’ Another arrives, and whispers, ‘Do not listen to the soldiers. They have no influence in politics. All the ministers are my friends. I can arrange matters for you.’ In war this has been my salvation, for I have dealt with all parties in turn, but in peace it has destroyed my influence, and men have said, ‘What is Spain, and what are her desires?’ It is a pity, for her rule in the towns is good. The Arabs in Tetuan are more prosperous than those in Tangier. But it is always ‘to-morrow.’ It is a year since the war stopped, and no agreement has been made. You are surprised, for it is generally Europe which hurries and Africa which delays.

“It was the same thing when Silvestre went to Madrid. At one time I believed that he cheated me, but now I think he kept his word. It was the Government which did not trust his knowledge, and they were troubled about France. Perhaps they suggested Raisuli as Kaliph and Paris refused. Allah alone knows. France would always be afraid if there were a strong alliance between Spain and myself, and it is her plaything, Mulai Jesuf[43] who chooses the Kaliph between two names submitted to him. If Spain had been strong then, and given me in name what was already mine in fact, there would have been no war, and her flag would have been on every hilltop.”

As a matter of fact, Silvestre supported Raisuli’s candidature to the utmost of his ability. The two letters which he wrote on this subject to the Ministry and to the King are a matter of official record. He made a considerable amount of propaganda in Spain for the Sherif, but France was adamant in her refusal, and the Government was divided.

“In the middle of that year,” continued Raisuli, “I believed that Silvestre and I were friends, but two bulls cannot rule the same herd. The Colonel came to see me, and said his Government feared that he was too much under my influence and was not busying himself with the occupation of the country. He wanted to go by way of Beni Mesauer to Ain el Yerida, and, from there, join the General Alfau, who was at Ceuta. I did not like this plan, for Wadi Ras is dangerous country—any stone may hide a rifle, and the streams are so thick with flowers and trees that no man knows what is hid among them. Nevertheless, I offered to send soldiers with him and I resolved to write secretly to the Kaids of the tribes, warning them of the approach and saying, ‘Your head for his, if he dies,’ but the Government changed its ideas and wrote hastily, saying, ‘Do nothing until we have consulted on this matter.’

“Silvestre was anxious to bring his soldiers to Azeila. For long this had been his aim, for he feared the French, who were working on the telegraph line from Fez to Tangier. I said to him, ‘This is my town; the only one I have kept for myself. You would blacken my face before the inhabitants if you come here,’ but he persisted, for there had been some more trouble over prisoners from Anjera, which tribe was always against me. Ullah, they were daring in their raids. Once they intercepted my mother, under whose feet is paradise, on her way to Beni Mesauer, where she went to visit her family. I was at Zinat, and they sent the news to me there, saying, ‘If you do not come to our village and submit to us, we will kill your mother.’ I answered, ‘A man is responsible before heaven for his mother. By Allah, I will come.’ So they were rejoiced, and thought their plan had succeeded, but I gathered together seventeen men, my closest friends, and we went by night over the hills, taking with us petrol and matches. I sent a small boy with a message to my mother, and he, crying because he had lost his goats, which had got mixed up with the Anjera flocks, came to the village to complain, but was not able to see my mother till nightfall. Then, when all were at prayer, he found her, and said, ‘My master sent me; and when, in the dawn, you hear the cry of a bird[44] on the hillside, go swiftly from the house and hide among those trees,’ and she answered, ‘If Allah wills, it shall be done.’

I divided my men in two parties and, when we arrived, before the light was clear, I stationed one in a thicket beyond the village. These made a great firing with their rifles and allowed themselves to be seen by the villagers, who thought they were attacked only from that side, and rushed out to drive away the enemy, who were few. Then we crept silently from behind the stones, each man in his earth-brown mantle, and, when we reached the first house, we poured petrol over it and set it on fire. The flames roared up from roof to roof, and the smoke belched forth like the breath of an army in winter. The Anjera were frightened, and returned in haste to save their families and their property. I called out to them, ‘Why are you disturbed by my visit? You invited me, and I have come.’ ‘By Allah, you have destroyed your mother!’ screamed someone, but I knew she was safe behind the trees I had indicated, for the small goatherd had tied his kilt to his stick and was waving it to prevent his animals going back into the village, and this was the sign agreed upon.

“The men whom I had stationed in the grove joined me, and there was so much confusion in the village, where the fire was sucking up the houses as a wave gathers the sand in its maw, that no Anjera knew his friend from his foe. When a man fell, a woman picked up his rifle and fired, and one, who was but a girl, hid among the cactus and shot steadily at the place where I stood, but, as always, the ‘baraka’ was with me.”

The Sherif seemed to think the story was ended. He picked up a great jug which stood on the table and drank half its contents. “This water is tainted by the goatskin. I send specially to a spring in the mountains, where the water is very clear and cold, and they bring it down in jars, so that there is no taste. My cousin should have seen that you had this to drink, for the wells here are not good.” The Kaid cut short the apologies of Mulai Sadiq. “The Sherif has not told you what happened that night,” he said. “After we had put the Sherifa on a mule and sent her with an escort on her way, I said to my friends, ‘We have forgotten something,’ and we returned and lay hid among the rocks till some of the Anjera came out. They were quite close to us and we could see the hairs on their faces before we sprang up and killed them, each one choosing an enemy and using his knife so that no sound should reach the village. We cut off their heads and turned swiftly, but a woman screamed among the cactus, and we saw men issuing from the ruins. Ullah, we did not wait, but ran like the foxes in the mountain, but each man carried a head, and, when we came to our own village, we set them up on posts, as a witness that Raisuli was still strong.

“That night we feared an attack from Anjera, who surely would revenge their dead, but it was a long way and none came. Guards had been posted all round the village, and there was a watchman on the hill, but they travelled far and were tired. Perhaps they slept. When it was near dawn I heard a shot, and I ran out, with my finger on the trigger, expecting the crash of musketry from the hedges, but there was only a faint cry, like an animal when it is wounded, and the sentry, who had fired, could not say what he had seen.

“He spoke of something white at the gate. ‘Fool, thou hast wasted my bullet on a donkey,’ I told him, but he insisted that it was a jinn, for it is in the early hours, when the light is neither white nor black, that the jinns come and do harm, wounding men and otherwise annoying them. After that, I woke up those who slept, in case some strategy was intended, but the sun rose and all was quiet. ‘Where did you see the jinn?’ I asked, and the man took me to the place, and, strange thing! there were but three heads on the posts instead of four. The Jebali was frightened. ‘Did I not tell you so, Sidi? But it was a ghoul who eats human flesh!’ ‘Empty words,’ I answered him. ‘These creatures do not leave blood upon the ground,’ for truly the earth was trampled hard by our feet and the dry stalks were red. I called to a slave, and he came with me.

“Together we followed the track, and a group came out of the village behind us. ‘Your jinn was badly wounded,’ I said. ‘It could not have gone far,’ but I was wrong. The blood ceased after a time, and we walked a long way, for there was but one path towards Anjera. At last the slave said, ‘This is dangerous ground, master; let us return,’ but I was curious, and went on. We found a strip of white cotton stuff by the way, but it was soaked with blood, and after that the grass was red again. Very soon, under an olive-tree, we found our quarry. It was a girl, and she was dead. Her hair was matted with sweat and her garments stained, but she was little and young, and, in one arm, wrapped in the cleanest bit of her skirt and pressed against her bosom, she held the head of her man.” The Kaid stopped. “Women always make trouble,” said Mulai Sadiq, with a glance at me, but el Menebbhe went on, shyly, as if rather ashamed, “We covered her with a jellaba and sent news to her village that there was a truce, and that if they came to our town, they could return in safety with that which belonged to them.”

Raisuli looked at me curiously. “You like that story, eh? But the Kaid has a soft heart for women. His wife has just borne him a son, and, by Allah, I have not seen him for days. One would have thought it was he who gave birth, so anxious was his face.” There was general amusement, amidst which the Sherif sent for green tea, and I had to wait for the continuation of his story till several cups had been drunk, with loud sucking noises, expressive of supreme appreciation.

“Tea is very useful,” said Raisuli at last. “It mellows a man’s thoughts as well as helps his digestion, for there is no trouble between the teapot and the cup. I was telling you how Silvestre wished to occupy Azeila, and how I asked him to wait. Truly the blood was in his head and he was mad, for, one night, news was brought to me that a Spanish mehalla was marching from Larache to attack me. I said, ‘It is not possible, unless Allah has muddled their wits!’ but when I discovered it was true, I made hasty preparation in the town and said, ‘Any man who fires will never see the sun again.’ The people wondered and whispered among themselves, but they feared me, and so peace was kept.

“I had the gates of the town shut, and sent a messenger to Silvestre, saying, ‘When a guest is uninvited, he is still welcome, but you should have given me warning. This is an unwise action which will have bad results. Do not come into the town, but make your camp at Aox.’ This was a height which was a convenient place for an army. I was angry with Silvestre for what he had done, for discourtesy is worse than treachery, and both are bad. I complained to the Legation at Tangier, but I received kindly the officers who came into the town, for I knew it was only politics, and done to prevent the French having influence in Azeila by means of their telegraph. Worse news came to me soon, for it was rumoured that Mulai el Mehdi, of the family of the Sultan, a weak man who has no standing in the country, was to be appointed Kaliph. Then I thought to myself that the Spaniards had broken faith with me and were no more to be trusted.

“The tribesmen came to me in large numbers and said, ‘Is this thing possible? We thought that the Sherif was well with the foreigners.’ In this way my prestige suffered, for Mulai el Mehdi was straw blown in the wind, and his minister, Ben Azuz, though an honest man and worthy of respect on that account, had no force behind his words. I told myself that I had been foolish to believe in any Christian promise, and, from that day, I have not put too much credence in the words of generals and ministers, for it seems to me that in all countries, when Europeans arrange treaties with natives, they make reservations, saying to themselves, ‘If this be to our interest it shall stand,’ but, if there be trouble between two of your Powers, no compacts and no pledges will keep the Arab from being trampled on.

[Illustration: Mulai Ahmed el Raisuli]

“At this time I had a mehalla at Bu Maiza. It was supported by the money of the Maghsen and it kept peace on the borders of Ahl Serif, which is always a rebellious tribe. Silvestre asked me to disband it, that there might be only one force in the country, and I said, ‘I will do this slowly, so that the Ahl Serif shall not think I am weak before them,’ but the Colonel pressed the matter, sending letters daily from Larache. I replied always, ‘The time is not suitable. There is much trouble among the tribes, and you should assist me to keep peace, not destroy my means of doing so.’

“I thought he had understood my words, but, suddenly, without any warning, he fell upon my mehalla, sending out two columns by night to eat it up. Kan haram! It was criminal, for my men were killed before they had time to defend themselves, and, when the Ahl Serif saw their distress, they came down from the rear and butchered those who remained. The commander of my army had been severe with the villages who refused to pay tribute, so the rebels took some of his men away into the mountains and buried them in the earth up to their necks, and left them there to die. The flies ate their eyes and the sun burned them, but it takes much to kill the men of Jebala, for they are strong, so at last the Ahl Serif brought their horses and galloped up and down over the heads, till they were knocked to pieces. When I heard this I swore vengeance.

“The destruction of my mehalla is one of the things I have never forgiven. The other is the murder of Alkali, of which I will tell you presently.

“The camp at Bu-Maiza was looted and nothing was left in it, not even the posts to which the horses had been fastened. Remember, I was still a Governor of the Sultan, so the matter was not between Spain and me. An imperial force had been destroyed without reason, and it was no more possible to enforce my authority, nor could I control the tribes who wished to avenge this insult. I went to Tangier to protest to the Spanish Legation against this action of Silvestre’s, for I knew there was no accord between them and I had the intention of never returning to Azeila. The Minister (it was really the First Secretary, Lopez Robert) received me well, and made many apologies, and would have persuaded me to go back to my province, but he never answered any of my questions, nor would he say anything definite. Ullah, this is a bad policy with Moslems, for procrastination is our heritage, and if a European is evasive, it is easy for us to defeat him at this game. So nothing was settled, but the Government congratulated itself on keeping my friendship. They assured me that all questions would be answered at Azeila, and, because I had left my family there and news came to me that my mother, the peace of Allah be with her, was ill, I agreed to return there, spending several days on the journey and speaking to the tribes as I went.[45]

“I had no communication with Silvestre until it was nearly winter, when he came to present to me an officer whom he had stationed in the town. I delayed three days in receiving him, for a man must be polite to his guest and I considered that no speech could undo the wrongs which lay between us. I said I was ill, or that I was busy, or else that I was praying, by which polite answers an Arab would have understood that I neither wished to offend, nor to see him. Silvestre insisted, and entered the yard of the palace, saying that he would wait at the door till it was opened. I therefore received him with the honour which I have always paid to his Government, for I still see in it our help.

“He talked to me of business before the mint was in the tea, and persisted in demanding the release of three Sheikhs of Beni Kholot, whom I had imprisoned because they would not pay tribute. I said to him, ‘I will free the men you speak of, if you wish, but do you not realise what you are doing? When you came to my country, all the people obeyed me, and, for that reason, I was able to help you. My assistance then was powerful. Now there are five tribes who dispute my rule. This is the result of your actions, and, if Raisuli falls, who do you think will keep peace? Every village will be at the throat of its neighbour, and no man’s life will be secure.’ I think in his heart he agreed with me, and, since the matter of Mulai el Mehdi was not yet settled, perhaps he hoped to prevail upon the Government in my favour.” “Thy words, Sidi, have always been of more value to thee than the blades of the jebala,” muttered Mulai Sadiq, but Raisuli gave no sign of hearing. Impassive and apparently bored, he continued, “Silvestre asked also for the release of the Ramla prisoners and, concerning this, I said we would talk later, for these villages had disobeyed my orders and fought against the Kaid whom I had appointed.

“I hoped then that the Colonel would leave, for it was late afternoon, and an unsuitable hour for speech, but he said to me, ‘How is it that you never return my visits nor offer me lodging in your house? The people talk of it and say it is your intention to avoid me and that there is no agreement between us.’ ‘I have no such intention,’ I answered, ‘but as for agreement, there are certain promises made to me by Zugasti and yourself which are still unfulfilled.’ There was silence, and I spoke no more, but he would not leave until I had agreed to accompany him round the camp at Aox, to show the natives that there was friendship between us. ‘This I do out of respect for Spain,’ I said, but I was convinced that he was not dealing straightly with me. Ullah, perhaps I was wrong, for truly there is much harm in pen and paper, and each one reads a different meaning into the written word.

“When there is no sincerity, whatever the one does the other disapproves of. So it was with Silvestre and myself. He accused me of taking possession of land belonging to the Maghsen and using it for my own purposes. When I produced documents to prove my rights, he said they were forged. The land at Sahel had been mine for many years, but Silvestre would not believe it. Then I too became angry, and I imprisoned those Arabs who had been working for Silvestre against my interests. I heaped chains upon them and allowed no food to be given to them except a little oil. The Spanish minister at Tangier wrote to me asking for their release, but I did not answer, for I had begun building in two places, at Rekada and at Bir Musuk, and it was very annoying that my claim to the lands should be questioned. I had paid the man much money to make out the deeds properly, and no one was the poorer because of this arrangement.” Raisuli’s voice expressed mild indignation and he pressed together his thick, moist lips as if to hold back a flood of words.

“Silvestre went again to Madrid,[46] and, because I hoped something might be arranged from this visit, I released the prisoners they asked for. When he returned it was the feast of Aidh el Kebeer, when all the tribes brought tribute and, in addition, such presents as they could afford. Some men of Beni Aros went to Larache to complain that I had kept five of their men in prison for a long time and demanded 8,000 douros for their release. This was true, for it was the amount of the tribute they had failed to pay, being obstinate people loving money more than freedom. It was many months that they had been in prison, chained on the same chain. The tribesmen sacrificed bullocks in front of Zugasti’s office and implored him to intercede for them, for they said, ‘You are the friend of the Sherif and he calls you his brother. Anything that you ask he will give you.’ They were right, and, had Zugasti come to me, all would have been well, but Silvestre was always between us, and I never saw my friend.”

About this time the Spanish police intercepted a letter to Raisuli from the commander of a small force which he had stationed in Beni Aros, to ensure the payment of a long-delayed tribute. It was signed by one Sid Hemed ben Musa and two others, and described in detail the burning of certain houses in Beni Ider, owing to the refusal of the “traitors” to pay the sum demanded. It is undoubted that deputations of indignant tribesmen constantly visited Silvestre, demanding relief from the extortions of the Sherif and complaining of the way their relations were imprisoned without a trial “during the pleasure of the Pasha.” It was also reported to him, but from not very reliable sources, that Raisuli was inciting the tribes to rebellion by means of letters which were to be read aloud by the Kaids. Rumour said that the Sherif proposed to lead an army in person against the mutinous Beni Aros, and Silvestre wrote hastily to Tangier urging the Minister to prevent Raisuli leaving that town, whither he had gone to make further complaints. As usual, however, the Legation was not in agreement with the military authorities, and the Sherif’s return to Azeila was unopposed. More tales of horrors were repeated to the unfortunate Silvestre, and he appealed to Raisuli by letter. The latter replied, “Let me govern in my own way, or let us break altogether.”

A number of tribesmen who had been friendly to Spain took refuge in the camp at Aox. Fearing the reprisals of the Sherif, they poured their grievances into the ears of the Spaniards. Another letter was intercepted. This time it was from Raisuli’s Khalifa to Abd es Salaam at Taieb, one of the commanders of his mehalla, and it ordered the immediate imprisonment of all the “traitors” of Jaldien and other villages.[47] In obedience to this letter, which had been sent in duplicate, a section of the mehalla duly attacked the miserable Beni Aros and burned several farms. By this time both parties were “seeing red,” and neither thought of the results of their actions. Raisuli went to Zinat, and it was rumoured that he meant to visit the sanctuary of his ancestor, Sidi Abd es Salaam. This would have been a signal for a gathering of all the tribes. The mountain would have been alive with rifles, and, with the cry, “There is no God but Allah and Mohamed is his Prophet.” The Holy War would have been proclaimed from one end of the country to the other.

A few Moors from Beni Aros came with their arms and horses and offered to fight for Spain, upon which the Beni Mesauer promptly pillaged their houses. In Suq es Sabt the tribesmen cut off the head of a Kaid appointed by Raisuli, and, a few days later, the mountaineers swept down upon the village and murdered several merchants.

“Nobody knew my intentions,” said the Sherif, “and, until I made known my will, there was no security in the country. My brother, in whom I had great confidence, came to me and asked, ‘What are your intentions concerning Spain? Tell me, that I may know how to act, for there is but one will in our family.’ I said to him, ‘You are the son of my father, and it is your right to ask my plans, but, tell me, where have you left your family?’ He replied, ‘They are in Al Kasr with my uncle.’ Then I said to him, ‘You have not seen them for some time. Go and visit them. Spend a few days with them, talk to them and take them gifts. Then return here and ask me my projects.’ He was surprised. ‘Why should I make this journey?’ he asked. ‘For the occasion is not suitable.’ I told him, ‘We are of the same house and I have confidence in you, so it is just that you should know what is in my mind; but, if I tell you, you will never again see your family. Therefore I advised you—go and visit your household now, and afterwards I will speak with you—for no man knows my plans and lives.”