CHAPTER XXIV

SIEGE AND RETREAT

After Raisuli had left us, Menebbhe and Badr ed Din murmured together under the shelter of their hands. Then the Kaid said, “Since the time of which he told you, the nature of the Sherif has changed. It is obvious to all of us, and many who are not in his confidence have observed it. Before that day, he cared for different things, but now he wishes only to make his peace with Allah. He fasts till, of a truth, the serpents eat his belly, and he prays even more than Mulai Sadiq. He accepts nothing from the Christians or from the Jews. There was once a case of tea which was sent up from Tetuan and, on the outside, was a picture of a woman dancing. The Sherif would not permit the tea to be used, for images are forbidden in Islam.

“In all things it is the same. Before Abd es Salaam, he had no regard for a man’s life, knowing it to be already forfeit to Allah, but since that day he has killed no man except in war, or by the order of a tribunal. Even his cousin who rebelled against him and laid an ambush for his son, Mohamed el Khalid, did not lose his head. He deserved death as well as any man, but the Sherif said, ‘If it is the will of Allah, he will die,’ and he sent him up to the mountains beyond Tazrut. There he was put into a covered corn-pit, dug in the ground, with only one small hole for him to breathe. It was very cold and he had but one mantle. Food was given him through the hole, only a little oil and some black bread, for the Sherif hoped that he would die. He was imprisoned in this manner for three months and kept in chains so that he could not move about, yet he lived, so my master released him, saying that his death could not be pleasing to Allah.

“On one occasion some of the men of Beni Aros were ambushed among the hills of Mesauer, and it happened in this way. A village which had never acknowledged the authority of Zellal sent messengers to the Sherif, saying that their cattle had been taken by the Spaniards and they feared for the safety of their houses. My master sent a force to help them, and, by Allah, it would have fallen into the prepared trap, only that it was much stronger than they had expected and the tribesmen were divided among themselves. Some said, ‘Let us shoot,’ and others, ‘Let us fly, and make another opportunity when we have more men’; so a few shots came from uncertain hands, and the soldiers were warned. The tribesmen, seeing the result of their hesitation, fought furiously, taking advantage of the ground they had chosen, but the harka[96] forced them out of their cover, killed many and took some prisoners. When these were brought to the Sherif, he looked at them without speaking, and said, ‘Return them to me after the last prayers.’ So we brought them into his house at night, and they stood before him, in chains, with bare feet. My master did not speak, but sat for a long time staring at them, and they grew nervous. At last he said, ‘Allah has not given me a weapon against my brothers. Go with peace, but take your chains with you, that you may turn them into bullets to fight the Christians.’”

The Kaid dropped on his elbow, and Badr ed Din promptly used his shoulder as a cushion. “It is the truth. I have not known so great an alteration in any man as I see in the Sherif, since I rode behind him up the mountain.”

Raisuli never made any reference to a change in his outlook. Next time he came to my tent, in a rose-pink kaftan smothered below layers of white woollen garments, with a dark jellaba over all, he began at once to talk about the Spanish occupation of the Fondak. “It was a day of triumph for Silvestre,” he said, “but it had been long delayed. It was in the autumn that I knew we could not hold Ain Yerida.[97] Since the meeting on Jebel Alan, the country was united against the propaganda which issued in a stream from Larache and Azeila, like the words of a woman when the thing she covets is denied her! Dris er Riffi was eloquent against me, and Barera, as clever in his politics as he was in his generalship, sent well-known townsmen to his outposts with instructions to talk to the people in the Suqs, impressing them with the power and generosity of Spain.

“If you can defeat an Arab in argument, you have won him to your side, for the educated among us love words as your men love women. Barera knew this, and his orators were skilful in their speeches, but, though Anjera and some others were with Spain, many of their own Kaids were doubtful. ‘Even if Spain wins,’ they said, ‘she will make peace with el Raisuli, for he has the ‘baraka,’ and, in one way or another, we shall certainly be given back into his hands, whether he rules for Spain or for himself!’ So there was doubt, and even men who had no friendship for me held back.

“For some time aeroplanes had bombarded Ain Yerida, and few of my followers lived above-ground. My house was always untouched, and the great square of the Fondak only lost a little plaster. At first men were terrified of these birds, and would fly, screaming, dropping their rifles as they ran, but I never moved from the place where I sat, and, seeing the little damage that was done, the tribesmen regained their courage. There were some who thought they could shoot the aeroplanes with a rifle. When they flew low, this was tried, and the Spaniards could not waste a bomb for every sniper. But my men always thought the red mark on the body must be the heart of the bird, so they did little harm.

“The advance to the Fondak was slow, for the Arab troops[98] were not loyal, and sometimes they fell on the end of a Spanish column and ate it up, escaping to the mountains with their loot. The attack was delayed several times by incidents of this sort. Once there was a general rebellion among the police, and several Spanish officers were shot, but this was because the men complained that they had not received their pay, and that even the fodder for their horses was sold to others.

“Three columns converged on Ain Yerida, coming from Larache, Tetuan and Ceuta. The path of each was disputed by horsemen who harried their flanks, and by riflemen who lay hidden, a few here, a few there, where the aeroplanes could not find them, but it was impossible for any body of men to move against them, because of these birds who hovered more persistently than the kites of El Biut. Whenever a column moved, villages blazed in its wake. This is the way of your civilisation. Blood flows before it and fire follows behind. It is not so great a change from the campaigns of Mulai Hassan, whose troops ate up the country like flies on a corpse. The homeless people fled to the mountains, women carrying their children, boys shouldering the rifles of the dead. I feared for the supply of grain, and ordered that it should be rationed in the villages, but the people thought that money was still a thing which had value, and they offered it to the distributors who should have hoarded the grain. So the douros changed hands, and soon there was nothing left that they could buy.

“The way to Tazrut by Suq el Khemis was always open for our retreat, for the columns advanced by the coast, the one from Larache fighting its way within sight of Zinat, down the road which I had closed for so long.

“Since the war the only road had been the sea, and this was the great difficulty of our enemies, for, as soon as they put up a telegraph-line, it would be cut down in the night, though there was no enemy in the neighbourhood. Ullah, I do not know how many troops were employed against the Fondak,[99] but there were many thousands, more than all the fighting men I had in the country. The enemy halted before the final attack, and made some of their little forts on the hill-tops, to guard their communications, while the artillery bombarded every yard which lay between us. I watched the shells bursting, and the explosives were so close that it reminded me of snow on Bu Hashim. All the bushes were burned, being first saturated with oil that destruction might be the swifter. All day the women toiled through our lines, homeless, often wounded and with singed clothes. The aeroplanes flew above us, and, after their passage, the earth was torn open at our feet. It was time to go.

“From the hills beyond we watched the Spaniards advance, preceded by a storm of shells, but none touched the red flag which we left guarding our property. The green standard we took with us, and it followed us to Sellalim and to the last outposts of the mountains. Before sunset the red strip had been torn down—it was the will of Allah. But today it flies again in Ain Yerida. Ullah, it is a pity that Silvestre cannot see it!

“The Spaniards concentrated a large force at the Fondak, making it the base from which to operate against Suq el Khemis. This action cut my communications with Tangier, for Barera and Silvestre now held the line between Azeila and Ain Yerida. They began a methodical envelopment of Beni Mesauer, and I saw that, if this succeeded, I should not be able to get any more supplies, so I went to see Zellal, and I stayed with him some days at his house. It was agreed between us that he should make peace with the Spaniards, so that his men might pass freely to the coast. Mulai Mustapha, my nephew, was my agent at Tangier, and it would be easy for him to send the things which I needed to Beni Mesauer and Zellal could arrange for their further journey. At that meeting, el Ayashi promised me his daughter, that the marriage might be a bond between us, and it was agreed that, when the war was over, she should be brought to my house.

“The next day Zellal sent messengers to the Spaniards, offering his submission, and they were delighted, and received it gladly, for his influence was well known. At the same time, the portion of Anjera which was with me deserted and made peace with the Christians. There is no honesty in that tribe, and they look no further than their pockets! At this moment their Sheikh, Mulai Ali, is living in Tetuan and talks much about his friendship for Spain, but I think his eyes are already turned in another direction.[100]

“Beni Ider and Beni Hamid now lay across the path of Spain, and for many months there was fighting among their hills. The Spanish force had three objectives. From Tetuan and Ben Karrish an army advanced towards Xauen, and Mulai Ali, my nephew, was at the head of the flags which fought them. From Larache, Barera pushed forward into the mountains of Beni Gorfet, hoping in this manner to draw a circle round Tazrut, but the Sumata, who were my best fighters, came south and blocked their passage. The third army operated from the Fondak, and Silvestre, looking up across the hills of Beni Aros, dreamed of the day he would set foot in the Zawia at Tazrut.

“There were no great battles, for the Spaniards had learned a lesson, and there were many days when they laid aside their rifles for spades and occupied themselves with shovelling earth into bags. Some of their small positions we took, but, though daily men died at the hands of hidden enemies, their artillery forced us back. Often their vanguard was on our heels as we slipped away into the hills, after eating up a post or breaking a column on the march. Often I have been so near them that Spanish soldiers dreamed of wealth, for the Government had offered a huge price for me, dead or alive. Ullah, I don’t think they would have complained of barbarity if my head had been brought to them, but the idea of so much gold unnerved their soldiers, and the bullets, as usual, went wide.”

“Allah was between you and your enemies,” broke in el Menebbhe, “and so it was made clear to me that time in the Wadi. In those days, the Sherif was more easily divided from his rifle than from me! Allah alone knows how many miles we have ridden together. Once we had fallen on the enemy in the early morning and killed some, but a relief came, and we were obliged to fly. My horse was lame, so the Sherif sent on all the others and stayed behind with me, with his two slaves. At noon we came to a wadi with high banks, and, in the bed of it, there was some sand and some clear pools. ‘It is the hour to pray,’ said the Sherif, and ordered Ghabah to hold our horses on the bank, while we went down to the water. The Spaniards were close behind us, so I urged him, ‘My master, let us go on a little further till we come to a safe country.’ And he answered. ‘It is already past the appointed time.’ ‘At least, then, let us hide ourselves in a place from which we can see the approach of an enemy?’ But the Sherif would not listen, and Mubarak and I followed him into the wadi.

“We performed the ablutions in a pool, and the slave spread out the red carpet for his master. The Sherif laid his rifle in front of him and, looking neither to the right nor to the left, he began the prayers. Hardly was the first raqua-at finished when Ghabah signalled from above, but the Sherif paid no attention. Then I saw two policemen on the bank opposite, and each had a rifle aimed at my master. I cried, ‘In the name of Allah, save yourself!’ but the Sherif never turned his head. ‘Have you so little faith in God? In truth, you are a bad Moslem,’ he reproached me. Mubarak would have picked up his rifle, but el Raisuli forbade him. We stood there, the three of us, while, fifty yards away, the men covered us. I wondered why they did not fire, but I would not appear less brave than the Sherif, so I only looked sideways out of the corner of my eye, and then I saw that the two were fighting. At this I was so surprised that I almost missed a prostration. I looked again, and saw one man knock the other down and take possession of his rifle and his horse. The other ran away, and the first came down the bank towards us, leading both animals, with the two guns in his hands.

“The Sherif continued his prayers, paying no attention to anything that had happened, but, when he had finished the last raqua-at and saluted the angels on his right and on his left, he said to me, ‘Did I not tell you there was no danger?’ Then the policeman came up and kissed the shoes of the Sherif and held them for him to put on. ‘Why have you come to me?’ asked my master. ‘Why did you not shoot and earn the money that has been promised?’ ‘Allah forgive me! that was my intention when I first remarked you, but, when I saw that you took no notice, trusting to the protection of Allah, I said to my brother, “We cannot kill such a good Moslem.” He argued, and would have fired, but I took his rifle. The blessing is with you, Sidi. May my service be under its protection?’”

[Illustration: Gallery of Raisuli’s palace at Azeila]

The Kaid looked up, smiling, with a gleam of strong teeth amidst the black of his beard. “Ullah, I was frightened that day, but the Sherif has never known fear!” Raisuli’s eyes wandered out of the tent to where Mohamed el Khalid was sitting on the edge of the well, and he made no comment.

“Xauen was taken after much loss on both sides,” he said. “Weight of guns and weight of men captured the hidden city (in October, 1920), which had been sacred to Moslems, and it was fitting that the Jews should rush out to welcome the sacrilege. It was again as at Larache, so many years before. The Arabs shut the doors of their houses, saying, ‘It is finished!’ while the Hebrews thronged the streets, singing and shouting in their joy. Since the war ended the Spaniards have done well in that country, and the new Pasha is a wise man and a friend of the Government. It was his influence which prevented a great massacre when the news of Melilla became known in Xauen. The bridges are no longer broken. The road is good. There will soon be a railway. Perhaps, after money has begun to drip into the hands of the Ahmas, and there is no more disease among their people, they will be content with that which has been sent them.” Raisuli paused, his thoughts evidently occupied with the future.

“When the mountains of Beni Ider had been crowned with their army, the Spaniards thought the war was at an end,” he said at last. “They could see the white houses of Tazrut on the side of Bu Hashim, and they wished to revenge themselves on these for the dead they had left in each wadi through which they had passed. Berenguer sent Dris er Riffi from Azeila to start his propaganda on the outskirts of Beni Aros. Men wavered while they listened to his words, and thought of the harvest which had been wasted. We had been fighting for a year, and, step by step, we were crushed back into the hills; yet it was not the soldiers who defeated us, but the new inventions which they used against us. The air was thick with metal and the earth was mined under our feet. My people were frightened, for there seemed no end to the weapons of our enemy. As yet there was no famine, but men began to pull in their belts and lick their lips when they saw game on the hills.

“Barera pushed forward among the high peaks on the French frontier, urging that the army which occupied Xauen should come out to meet him beyond Bu Hashim. One of the largest forts was at Akba el Kola, a place difficult to hold, because of the cliffs which overlook it. In spite of this it was used as a base, and fortified with much wire. There were a good many troops there, with artillery and maxims which had been brought up with great difficulty, for this is on the edge of our worst mountains. The Ahmas tribe have never tolerated strangers. They waited only to be assured of the help of Sumata. Then they fell upon the fort. A small force hid in Beni Scar, with the help of the inhabitants, whose cattle had been taken by the enemy. Two other parties occupied the heights on either side of el Kola, and they all began firing together. The attack must have been unexpected, for, in order to escape a rain of bullets, many of the Spaniards tried to leap the wire, and became entangled in it. They were shot down as they struggled, and their bodies hung on the fence. A few gathered under the shelter of some rocks and attempted to defend themselves, but they had no time to use their artillery, and the tribesmen picked them off from the high ground. There was scarcely a man left unwounded after the first hour, for some had fled before the fierceness of the attack.

“On the hills of Jerba and Bulerus there were smaller posts, and these too were surrounded, but they held off the Beni Ahmas till sunset, when they were eaten up by reinforcements from Sumata. This was one of the few battles that we won, and the slaughter was great among the Christians. The tribesmen secured many rifles, as well as the cannon that were left in the post; and the women came out by night to take the clothes of the dead. The Ahmas are savages, though good fighters, and they did not do more for the corpses than cut off their heads. Some bodies they stuck in the ovens where the soldiers’ food had been cooked. Others they left in the wire and, when the smell became bad, they went up onto the cliffs. Money was found in the office and a good many tinned stores, but the tribesmen could not use these for fear of pig-flesh being among them.[101]

“This defeat was a check to our enemies, for Barera saw there was no chance of the two armies joining south of Tazrut. In truth, their maps or their guides must have deceived them, for I have told you about those mountains whose sides are like the walls of a house. You can fire a gun across a ravine, and perchance hit a man on the opposite ridge, but it will take you a day to reach his body. Mulai Ali, my nephew, still held the Spaniards in the intricate country west of Xauen, and here the Christians paid heavily, for they had to build bridges before they could get their guns over the wadis, and, when winter came, the rains washed away half of their work. The Beni Hosmar hung on their rear, and there was no safety for them at any point. I have told you often that, in this country, taking the largest town is no more advantageous than taking a rock or a tree. The Spaniards were slow to learn this.

“The second winter was hard on the tribesmen, and often there was only monkey-flesh in the pot. Once again the children died, and women fell before me, as I rode, and begged for food for their sons. I gave all that I had, and much came from Beni Mesauer. The Kaids were growing anxious, for the Spaniards had made a new plan, and the two armies crept forward from Larache and Xauen towards Bab es Sor, narrowing the triangle that was left to us. Berenguer had to go round Jebel Alan by way of Beni Leit, and here there was much fighting. Mulai Ali, my nephew, had five hundred men with him in the mountain, and they watched for opportunities of attacking the army which, divided into several columns, was struggling over the rough ground.

“At that time it was difficult to say who was loyal and who a traitor, for, in order to save their villages and their families, many had given the service of their tongues to the enemy. Perhaps one brother was with Spain and the other in my harka, but this was a matter of policy. Now, on one occasion, during the passage of Beni Leit, some relatives of Hamed es Succan, my dear friend, were guiding the enemy, and it happened that men of the same family were with Mulai Ali. It was therefore decided to lead the Spaniards into a trap. It was necessary that guides who were loyal to me should be substituted for those who were with the enemy. ‘That is an easy matter,’ said one Mohamed. ‘These men are my cousins. I will send them a message to run away in the night.’ ‘There is no use in that,’ protested another, ‘for the Spaniards would suspect treachery and take no more guides from our family.’ Mohamed thought for a few moments. ‘Ullah, we must then kill the sons of my relative, and it must not be known from where came the shots. After this, I, and one other, will go down and claim their bodies and make much mourning, clamouring against the Sherif and swearing to take vengeance. Thus the Spaniards, trusting us, will be rejoiced to take us as guides, and we can lead them into the trap in whatever manner is arranged.’

“The wisdom of Mohamed was applauded, but one said to him, ‘Since the last surprise, the enemy have never trusted the honesty of their guides. They place them in the middle of soldiers, who have orders to shoot them at the first alarm. This is known to your relatives—otherwise they would have betrayed their new masters a long time ago.’ ‘It is known also to me,’ answered Mohamed, ‘and it is good, for thus will the blood of my cousins be avenged, and there will be no feud between our houses.’

“All agreed to the plan, and it was carried out as Mohamed had suggested. The Spaniards were led into a narrow place, where the rocks were rough under their feet and bushes clothed the hills on either side. Mulai Ali waited until they were in the centre of the Wadi. Then fire came from all round them, and the first ranks fell back upon the last, so that there was confusion and my people charged down upon them and completed their killing. The body of Mohamed was found without a rifle in the middle of the dead. It was sent back to his village, and his women mourned, but the men of the family were glad, for his bridge to paradise was covered with Christian heads.[102]

“There were many ambushes of this sort, and one of the best was concerned with cattle. The Spaniards would risk more for a fat herd than for a village, so some beasts used to be driven into a convenient wadi, where they could be seen from an enemy camp. A party would come down to capture them, and none of them would return. This trick was turned against us in the end, for one day, when the tribesmen were lying in wait above the feeding cattle, they watched vainly for the approach of a troop. Instead of soldiers eager for fresh meat, came shells which destroyed the herd and tore up the hillside. The tribesmen fled but three of their number were killed as they ran.

“This was the time when men did not try to save their lives but thought only of killing many Christians for one Moslem. There was not a house left standing in the wake of the enemy, and even the women defended their villages. Once a Spanish column pushed into a wadi unexpectedly, and found no men in the place. The women watched them, afraid, but the officer ordered his men not to fire. Then he asked for the arms that he knew were hidden among the houses, and the women brought out old flint- locks and ancient weapons that would not have done harm to the birds, swearing that their kinsmen had taken the rest.

“The Spaniards made a long search among the hedges and outbuildings. Then he drove the women up on to the hillside, in order that he might burn the village. They scattered quickly among the bushes till there was not a haik in sight, but the one who led them, an old woman, who was called the Sorceress, because she could read the future by the sand or the fall of leaves in the wind, took them quickly to the place where the arms were buried. They dug with their bare hands and with staves, while the enemy looted the village and the police, who were with the column, stuck live fowls in their holsters and tied sheep across their saddle- bows. At last the earth gave up her secret, and the women seized the rifles and loaded them, creeping down the wadi with the weapons hidden under their garments. There was one place where the hills narrowed, but there was no cover, so they had to hide far up on the hillside.

“The Spaniards came slowly, with the flames roaring behind them and their horses burdened with loot. The women waited, with eyes fixed on the first riders. As the ranks closed between the slopes, a cry rang out above them, the long, quivering cry of rejoicing that hails the new-made bride, or the new-born son. Fifty rifles spoke among the hills, and the Spaniards reeled from their saddles. Riderless horses charged backwards, and men, encumbered by their burdens, fired without aim or thought. The captain’s horse was shot under him, but he seized the bridle of another and called to his men to follow. At full gallop they charged through the wadi, and returned no fire till the land was open before them. Thinking the ambush was the reason for all the men’s absence, they imagined it strong and would not go back for their wounded. Shots echoed after them as they rode out of range, and by these, the truth might have been guessed, for no tribesman wasted bullets after the first year.

“When it was dark the women came down to strip the bodies and take the heads and the weapons of the dead. They caught also the horses and got back some of their own property. Then they mounted their children on the horses and, with the heads tied to the Spanish saddles and the rifles on their backs, they walked swiftly up to the mountains, telling the story as they went.

“These are small incidents of a great war, but generally there was nothing but hunger and burnt villages, crops destroyed, cattle taken, the killing of a few hidden snipers and the death of many Spaniards. Always the country narrowed around us, till Tazrut was shelled and the aeroplanes dropped bombs near my house. The door of the mosque was broken, but the building was preserved by Allah. Half my men were behind the lines of the enemy or among them, living like foxes in holes and shooting desperately whenever a Christian was within range. The Sheikhs came to me and said, ‘It is the will of Allah that we perish. Is it not time to make peace?’ and I answered always, ‘Wait.’ They asked, ‘For what, Sidi?’ and I replied, ‘For that which Allah will send.’ I knew what was preparing in the East,[103] for communications had passed between Abdul Krim and myself, though I would not agree to an alliance, for he is a bad Moslem and our ways do not go together. For this reason I assured the people, ‘Have patience. The power is with Allah, and he will save us.’ They went away, saying, ‘The Sherif has no fear, and he is certain of success,’ but I knew that I could do nothing more. If it was the will of Allah, Abdul Krim’s blow would not be too long delayed.

“As the days lengthened (1921) it was a race. With every yard that we were pushed back, a new rumour of trouble came from the East. Disease spread in the villages, for the cattle were unburied in the pastures. The walls trembled from the shock of the cannon. There were no roofs against the rain. Men had ceased to tighten their belts and their eyes were like wolves. My illness grew so that I hung on the cord all day, and at night I prayed, with my face towards the East, where our succour delayed. All this was from Allah.” The heavy voice dropped on a note of finality. I looked up, passionately rebellious against the fatalism which suffered and accepted. The Sherif spoke sternly. “Much you have taken from us in the last centuries, but it was the will of Allah. Many marvels you have in the North, but we have our Faith. God is Great.”