Vegetation of Ourika valley — Destruction of the native trees
— Our progress checked — Enforced return — Shelluh village
— Ride from Ourika to Reraya — Trouble with our escort — A
friendly Shelluh sheik — Native desire for medical advice —
Characteristics of the Shelluhs — Zaouia of Moulaï Ibrahim —
Camp in Aït Mesan valley — Excursion to the head of the valley
— Reach the snow — Night travelling in the Atlas.
At sunrise, on April 10, the thermometer stood at 60°, and in this
delightful climate we were in the best spirits for undertaking the
work that seemed to be ready cut out for us, by exploring the fine
valley that led directly from our station to the heart of the great
mountain chain. Our expectations were, indeed, somewhat damped by
the discussions that had already taken place with the Vice-Governor
and with Kaïd el Hasbi. They did not deny that we might travel some
way up the valley, but asserted that it would not be practicable
for us to ‘reach the snow.’
It was impossible to leave the spot where we encamped without giving
a little time for collecting some of the very interesting plants
that grew close at hand. Foremost amongst these was a leguminous
shrub that seems destined to become an ornament to the gardens of
Europe. This—_Adenocarpus anagyrifolius_, of Cosson—was first
found in 1867, by M. Balansa, and seems to be common, especially
near the banks of streams, between 3,000 and 5,000 feet above the
sea level throughout this part of the Great Atlas. The long racemes
of bright yellow flowers were conspicuous from a distance, and we
afterwards found the pods, densely covered with black glands, but
nowhere containing ripe seed. Another new bush belonging to the
same natural order was also seen for the first time—_Hedysarum
membranaceum_, of Cosson. Unlike the other, this is rare, and seems
to be limited to the lower zone at the foot of the mountains. We
failed to find either flower or fruit, though M. Balansa gathered
both, perhaps at a lower level, in May 1867. We also collected
fine specimens of two new and very distinct species, first seen
on the preceding day—_Lotononis maroccana_, Ball, and _Lotus
maroccanus_, Ball.
Soon after 8 we got under way, and, after a short ride along the
right bank, reached the stream above the part where the water is
carried off for irrigation purposes. It was now seen to be a rapid
torrent, from twenty to forty yards in width, and nearly two feet
deep. For some distance the narrow floor of the valley was nearly
flat, and the moist soil was covered with poplars and willows, and a
dense undergrowth of grasses and herbaceous flowering plants. Among
these were two large _Ranunculi_, and a gigantic orchid, growing four
or five feet high, only a variety of our common _Orchis latifolia_.
The vegetation became still more interesting when we left the flat
bottom of the valley, and began to ascend on drier ground, between
tangled masses of bushes that formed a sort of thick hedge on either
side of the track. For the first time in South Marocco, we saw two
species of _Clematis_—_C. cirrhosa_ and _C. Flammula_,—along with
several other Mediterranean species; but our minds were especially
exercised by a little bush with slender twigs and pinnate leaves,
which, in default of flower or fruit, we were at first unable
to refer to its place in the natural system. It turned out to
be a curious species of ash, first found in the plateau region
of Southern Algeria, appropriately named by M. Cosson _Fraxinus
dimorpha_. As long as it remains a bush, with numerous twiggy stems,
the leaflets are blunt and rounded; but when it becomes a shrub, with
a stout trunk, it throws out leaves that approach in form those of
the flowering ash. We nowhere saw it in this condition in Marocco,
and only by the help of Algerian specimens could we have suspected
the identity of the two forms. Among many thorny bushes we saw here
one, first gathered the day before, near Tasseremout, which Hooker
at once pronounced to be a _Celastrus_. This was first found in the
South of Spain, and described as _C. europæus_ by M. Boissier,
but is in truth one of the many forms of _C. senegalensis_,
a widely-spread tropical species, that extends from India to the
west coast of Africa.
Among other novelties, we here saw, for the first time, a little
annual stonecrop (_Sedum modestum_, Ball), that nestles in hollow
places under large stones, or about the roots of trees; but the most
curious trophy of our day’s work was a miniature bramble, lying
flat on earthy banks, with small, mostly undivided leaves, and very
few minute prickles. It is possible that the imperfect fruits that we
saw had been dried up by the sun; but it seems more likely that this
belongs to the group of dry-fruited brambles—the genus _Dalibarda_
of some botanists—hitherto known only in America and Eastern Asia.
We passed near to several villages; but, as a rule, the valley tracks
in the Great Atlas are carried on one side, and do not approach
near to the houses. The valley grew narrower as we advanced, and
the moderately steep slopes on either hand were covered with small
trees of _Callitris_, and _Juniperus phœnicea_, none of them more
than about thirty feet in height. If this country were administered
by people capable of taking thought of its future prosperity,
the former tree might undoubtedly become an important source of
wealth. The beauty of the wood, if it were only allowed to attain
a sufficient size, would always secure a ready market, even though
it never reached the extravagant price which, under the name of
citrus wood, it obtained in the days of Imperial Rome. The only
use which it serves in Marocco is the production of gum Sandrac,
of which a small quantity is exported to Europe.
The destructive practice of setting fire to the brushwood is the
sole cause that prevents the northern slopes of the Great Atlas
from being clothed with valuable timber. The motive is not only the
desire to obtain pasture for sheep and goats, but also to deprive
an enemy of cover for ambush during the frequent skirmishes that
occur between neighbouring tribes. The olive, carob, and walnut,
which are planted in the main valleys, and produce annual crops,
are carefully protected; but the notion of looking forward to
future profit after an interval of thirty or forty years would be
absolutely unintelligible to a native of this country. By a very
rude process, the natives extract from the trunks and branches of
_Juniperus phœnicea_ a sort of tar which is said to be a useful
application in wounds and sores of men and animals.
As we continued to advance, the valley narrowed almost to a defile,
and the track, carried along rather steep slopes, became difficult
for laden animals, though not worse than one commonly meets in high
mountain countries, nor nearly so bad as some that we afterwards
traversed in the Atlas. Presently, Abraham announced that Kaïd
el Hasbi declared the track too bad for farther progress of the
baggage mules. As it was apparent that the valley widened out a
short way ahead, and that the _mauvais pas_ would soon come to
an end, we turned deaf ears to the remark, and rode doggedly on
for a short distance farther, encouraged by the view in front,
which disclosed a long reach of valley, running deep into the
heart of the great chain. Shortly after, those who were in front
became aware that a vehement discussion was going on at the centre
of our scattered line. The energy of our interpreter was taxed to
the utmost in striving to render the emphatic sentences that were
exchanged between Hooker and Kaïd el Hasbi, supplemented by the
pantomimic gestures of the latter.
The gist of the argument was to the effect that even if we did
go some way farther, at the risk of our baggage animals rolling
down into the torrent—one of them had already slipped, and had a
narrow escape—our progress to the head of the valley was out of
the question, as the people there were in full revolt, and would
not recognise the authority of the Sultan. We were inclined at the
moment, and afterwards, to believe that this was a lie trumped up for
the occasion; but the story might possibly be true, and, whether it
were so or not, it was clearly impossible for us to proceed against
the positive and determined opposition of our escort. With feelings
of bitter disappointment we dismounted, and ordered that the baggage
should return to a village near which we had passed an hour before,
while we climbed to the top of a projecting spur of the mountain,
commanding a view of the upper valley. For the moment, our interest
in the vegetation yielded to the attractions of the scenery, and
our curiosity as to the nature of the great mountain chain that
rose steeply before us, seamed with snow that nowhere formed wide
fields of _névé_, but lay in hollows and ravines forming long
vertical streaks throughout the upper zone of several thousand
feet in height. About two miles ahead of us the valley forks, the
main branch from SSE. receiving a tributary from the S. or SSW. On
a lofty spur between the two streams stood a village, conspicuous
from a distance.
To be turned back at the very moment when the main object of our
journey lay before our eyes, and that on pretexts that we utterly
disbelieved, was sufficiently aggravating; and it was not in the
most cheerful humour that, about mid-day, we retraced our steps
down the valley, and, yielding to the suggestions of our escort,
halted at the olive grove beside the village which we had noticed
during our ascent. This was the first Shelluh village that we had
been able to inspect nearly, and it was of the same type which we
afterwards found throughout the mountain region. Unlike the Arabs,
the Berebers always use stone for building when it is available. The
walls are thick and solid below, but rudely constructed, and the
upper portions are sometimes put together with mud and small pieces
of stone. There is usually an upper story extending over the whole or
part of the ground floor, and the roofs are flat and made tolerably
water-tight with mortar or cement. In structure and appearance they
reminded Hooker of the village houses of the mountaineers of Bhotan.
We collected a good many specimens during the afternoon, but were
able to add little to the list of species already noted in the
valley. The most important business in hand was to bring to book
our enemy Kaïd el Hasbi—for so we began to consider him—and
ascertain clearly whether he did or did not mean to carry out the
orders of the Sultan, and convey us to some point within reach of
the upper regions of the mountains. When pressed on this point, he
distinctly declared that from Reraya—the next adjoining district
to the west—we should be able to ‘reach the snow;’ and with
that assurance we had to satisfy ourselves, and give such orders
that the next evening should find us in the desired district.
The name of the village was differently noted by the members of
the party; Assghin, as it is entered in Hooker’s notes, by an
observation taken this afternoon, with the thermometer in the shade
at 72° Fahr., stands at 3,427 feet (1,044·4 m.) above the sea. Up
to this our observations had been reduced on the assumption that the
pressure at sea level was exactly 760 millimetres; but henceforward
we had the advantage of direct comparison with observations recorded
twice a day at Mogador.
The evening was fine, but flashes of lightning were seen to the
SE. after dark, and during the night fresh snow fell on the higher
ridges, which looked brilliant on the early morning of April 11,
but rapidly melted under the mid-day sun. We started rather late,
about 8 A.M., and by 10.30 had returned to the site of our former
camp in the broad bed of the stream below Achliz. Here our ill-humour
was increased by a long and quite unnecessary delay. As a rule,
a light luncheon was all that was consumed at our mid-day halt, the
men being content with some fragments of the _mona_ of the previous
night. But our greedy soldiers had requisitioned a further _mona_,
nominally on our behalf, from the adjoining village, and were
determined not to move forward until it was supplied. When Hooker
happened to surprise our Mogador Kaïd in the act of secreting a
quantity of tea and sugar, the old fellow in self-defence began to
narrate the misdeeds of his colleague, and so gave us a clearer
notion than we before had of the sort of abuses that pervade the
whole fabric of Moorish administration. It is true that one is told
that the value of goods requisitioned in this way by Government
officers is allowed to the villages as payment on account of taxes;
but the poor country people tell a different tale, and it is probable
that any allowance made on this head is quite inadequate.
It was 2.30 P.M. when we were at last able to start, and, as we
knew that there was still some distance to travel, we had but very
little time for botanising during the afternoon ride. Our way lay
for more than two hours along the base of the hills, whose forms
were much of the pattern usually seen where a high mountain rises
from a plain country. The ridges dividing the main valleys gradually
diminish in height as they recede from the axis, and ultimately
are weather-worn into eminences of a more or less conical form,
which project to an unequal distance towards the plain.
Towards five o’clock we began to ascend to a low pass connecting
a long projecting spur to the right with the main mass of the hills
on our left. Up to this we had seen a good many scattered blocks of
sandstone, but nowhere forming mounds. We now came on limestone—
showing traces of fossils. The hills hereabouts were bare of trees,
with a thick growth of palmetto, bushy _Labiatæ_, _Helianthemum_,
and perennial grasses, except where, under tillage, they produce
good crops of red-bearded wheat. From the first pass we descended
rather steeply to cross a narrow torrent bed, and reascend to a
second somewhat higher pass, reached at 6 P.M., which we found to
be 3,590 feet (1,094·3 m.) above the sea, or just 700 feet above
the river at the mouth of the Ourika valley. The country here
appears to be fully peopled. We saw several villages, and one or
two quadrangular buildings of larger size, probably the dwellings
of local sheiks. We had during most of the way wide views over the
plain of Marocco, and were able to distinguish the city itself,
with the great tower of the Koutoubia and the extensive palm
groves on its western side. Slight undulations of the ground are
not perceptible when seen from above; but it was quite clear to us
that nothing deserving to be called a hill breaks the uniformity
of the gentle slope with which the plain subsides from the base of
the Atlas to the region traversed by us on our road from Mogador.
The monotony of the march was diversified by another furious quarrel
between the officers of our escort. Whatever may have been the
pretext, the cause was doubtless the mutual ill blood arising from
the disputes over their respective shares of the spoil obtained
from the villagers. Not content with volleys of guttural abuse,
and seemingly ferocious threats, they appeared intent on serious
mischief, and proceeded to unpack their long guns. Luckily these
were securely wrapped up in complicated covers of red cloth, and,
before the combatants were ready for action, prudence once more
restrained valour, and the storm passed away in sullen growlings
and mutterings of future vengeance. It sometimes struck us that
if there were such things as professional brigands in Marocco,
we might have been robbed or murdered with perfect safety before
one of the guns of our escort had been extracted from its case,
and made ready for use.
Indignant, as we were, at the rapacity of our escort, we assured
ourselves, when we came to know more of the country, that there is
a great deal of human nature among the Moors, as there is amongst
most of the people that travellers make acquaintance with, and
that the conduct of the soldiers and their officers was pretty
much what might be expected from any other men put in the same
position. The pay of a captain in the regular army is equivalent
to 4_s_. 2_d_. per month, and that of the men not nearly enough to
support life, even allowing for the frugal habits of the people. It
is only natural that when the opportunity is offered, along with
the certainty of impunity, they should make the most of it, as
they certainly do. In some places, as we afterwards learned, they
were not satisfied with the large supplies that they requisitioned,
but demanded and obtained money from the village authorities.
From the summit of the second pass, the track descends about 400
feet into a broad valley, well wooded with olive, carob, and other
cultivated trees.
Soon after seven o’clock we reached a convenient spot on flat
ground, beside a rapid stream, near a village called Tassilunt. The
scenery here was very picturesque, although we had no view of the
higher part of the chain. The nearer mountains were of a deep red
colour—probably sandstone—contrasting finely with the rich green
of trees and shrubs that covered most of the slopes. The floor of
the valley here, as in most parts of the range that we visited,
is chiefly devoted to olive cultivation, poor crops of grain being
raised beneath the trees.
The sheik of the village soon presented himself, and before long an
abundant _mona_ was brought to the tent door, and laid, according
to custom, at Hooker’s feet. Five large dishes of cooked meat
and keskossou, and piles of wheaten cakes, were designed to stay
or to whet the appetites of the party; while a sheep, twelve fowls,
fifty eggs, and five pounds of butter formed a provision for their
future wants. When it is remembered that nearly as much more cooked
food was supplied in the morning, it may be imagined that the tax
on the resources of a poor mountain village was not trifling.
We had now entered the district of Reraya, which is under the
rule of El Graoui, represented by one or more deputies. The whole
population, excepting some miserable-looking Jews, is Shelluh;
but here, as everywhere among the Berebers, these are divided into
tribes or clans, who are often at feud, and always jealous and
suspicious of each other. There is generally a superior chief or
sheik, having a wide, but ill-defined authority over the whole clan;
but among those that recognise the Sultan’s paramount temporal
as well as spiritual supremacy, this is subordinate to that of the
Governor. In this part of the Great Atlas, the clans, as well as
the districts named after them, preserve the Shelluh patronymic
of _Aït_; but the Bereber tribes of the high ranges E. and SE. of
Fez have generally adopted the Arabic _Beni_, as with the powerful
tribes, Beni Mtir and Mghill. One of the many difficulties of the
geographer in this country arises from the practice of naming each
district from the tribe that inhabits it, and the fact that, either
from compulsion, or a taste for migration, it is not uncommon for
a tribe to remove from one valley to another. The next valley to
that where we now were was called at this time Aït Mesan; but if
the Aït Mesan should take possession of some neighbouring valley,
or be driven out by a stronger tribe, the traveller who visits the
country some years hence may find the Aït Mesan valley in quite
another place from that which we have described.
Our chief anxiety now, was to ascertain that the promise held out,
of penetrating to the inner recesses of the Great Atlas in the
district of Reraya, was to be realised. We were told that in the next
adjoining valley we should reach a place only two hours’ journey
from the snow, and that the sheik of that valley had been summoned,
and would arrive on the next morning. At the same time, whether
from ignorance or a design to mislead us, El Hasbi’s language was
decidedly vague and confused, and, after the experience of the last
few days, there was no reason to feel the slightest confidence in
his assurances. Hooker therefore decided on bringing matters to
a point by informing El Hasbi that if any further difficulty was
made, he should despatch a courier with letters for El Graoui and
the Viceroy at Marocco, saying that the commander of our escort
has failed to carry out the Sultan’s orders, and requesting that
another should be sent in his place. As this was the last thing to
suit El Hasbi’s book, he became profuse in assurances of devotion
to our wishes, and for some days, at least, we had no reason to
suspect him of further machinations to defeat our plans.
In point of fact, a courier was sent on the following day with a
letter for El Graoui. It was desirable to obtain the direct sanction
of the authorities for our intention to remain several days in the
district we had now reached, and to make it understood that this
would be essential for the object of our journey.
A further topic requiring some previous arrangement arose from
Maw’s desire to return to England as soon as possible, after
effecting the desired ascent to the higher region.
Our camp, which stood at 3,160 feet (963·1 m.) above the sea,
was in a pleasant and sheltered position, and the temperature
was thoroughly enjoyable. The relative coolness of the nights was
not, indeed, so remarkable here as in the plain, for the actual
temperature was pretty much the same, while that of the shade of
day, which at this season, there usually rises somewhat over 80°
Fahr., rarely exceeded 70° in the lower zone of the Great Atlas,
however powerful might be the direct rays of the sun for several
hours in each day. Towards dawn the air was usually keen, often
almost cold; and at the hour which, when possible, was selected
for observation—about one hour after sunrise—Fahrenheit’s
thermometer, as well in the plain as in the main valleys of the
Atlas, usually ranged from 56° to 60°. It will be seen that this
country, when made accessible to civilised Europe, will supply
the nearest approach yet discovered to the perfection of climate,
whether for health or enjoyment.
The morning of May 12 was in every sense a busy one. During
our afternoon ride of the day before, one of the baggage mules,
while following a narrow track along the bank of a watercourse,
had slipped into the stream, and a large parcel of Hooker’s
plants had been thoroughly soaked. Several hours of the night,
and the early morning, were consumed in repairing the damage,
by laying the plants in dry paper, and drying in the sun that
which was wet. Then came the important affair on which our hearts
were mainly set. The sheik of the Aït Mesan valley had arrived,
and it was necessary by a judicious combination of compulsion and
conciliation to secure his co-operation in our undertaking. It was
true that the orders of his superior, El Graoui, if duly conveyed
by our escort, should alone have sufficed for our purpose; but
we had already learned that, by a mutual understanding between
the treacherous El Hasbi and the local authorities, our progress
could at any moment be effectually barred. How were we to detect
and expose the falsehood of the stories that were daily trumped up,
and were seemingly accepted for truth by our own attendants?
The sheik appeared sufficiently cordial, especially when he was made
to understand that, in case we were satisfied, he should receive
a handsome present; and it was arranged that our next camp should
be fixed at a spot within reach of the snow.
When the time for our departure drew near, a fresh, but not quite
unforeseen, cause for delay presented itself, by the appearance in
our camp of a crowd of native applicants for medical advice. Before
leaving England we had been advised not to neglect the surest means
for conciliating the good will of an African population, and had
fortunately provided ourselves with a sufficient stock of common
medicines. Even an ordinary traveller, with no more knowledge of
medicine than the elementary notions possessed by most educated
persons, may safely apply simple remedies in many of the cases of
sickness that commonly occur among uncivilised people; but in our
case there was no occasion for rash experiments, as Hooker’s
medical knowledge and skill were more than sufficient for the
needs of the patients who flocked in considerable numbers to ask
for advice. From this time forward, except in one or two places
where the people were withheld by the bigotry of the authorities,
this became one of the daily demands upon his time and patience.
To judge from our own observation of the Shelluh people, and the
experience of French travellers among the Kabyles, it seems probable
that a traveller having some knowledge of the Bereber language,
and a little medical skill, who could once make his way among
the independent tribes of East Marocco, might safely explore the
unknown portions of the Great Atlas. The first condition would
be, that he should be able to overcome or evade the obstacles
that would be put in his way by the Moorish authorities; and the
second, that he should avoid treating any case that was likely to
have a fatal termination. The position of an infidel stranger who
might be supposed to be accessory to the death of a native of one
of these wild tribes would doubtless be very perilous. The only
branch of natural history that could be followed by a traveller
under such conditions would be botany. In collecting plants he
would be supposed to be following his proper avocation; whereas
the slightest attention given to stones or minerals would be set
down to a search for treasure.
The Shelluh population of the Great Atlas is strikingly different
from the Arab stock, but scarcely to be distinguished in appearance
from the cognate Bereber races, the Riff mountaineers of North
Marocco, and the Kabyles of Algeria. Long faces, of a deep sallow
complexion, high cheek-bones, eyes closely set and not so dark as
those of the Moors and Arabs, are the prevailing types. The hair
is cut short, and the use of the turban seems to be confined to the
women. The men, when they use an upper garment, wear a black cloak
or large cape of goat’s hair or camel’s hair, into which is
inserted on the back an angular patch of red woollen stuff. Their
character seems even more different from the Arab type than their
aspect. The Arab hates work, takes to it occasionally from necessity,
but passes his time so far as he can between talk, story-telling,
and song, and dreamy contemplation, in which he is helped by
the habitual use of _kief_, prepared from Indian hemp, the local
substitute for tobacco. The Shelluh, on the contrary, is active
and hardworking. He has some natural fitness and acquired skill in
agriculture. His intelligence is readier for all practical purposes;
and, in spite of difficulties of language, which generally involved
a double process of interpreting between us and the natives, we
found it much easier to obtain information on any matter of interest
than from the Arabs. Intense curiosity was always shown by them in
our proceedings, and a circle of people from the nearest village,
standing hand-in-hand, generally encompassed our camp.
During the morning Maw amused and interested the people by showing
a little practice with a small English rifle. The long flint-lock
guns and bad gunpowder used in this country form such ineffective
weapons that the people cannot conceive the possibility of every
shot telling. This accounts for the fact that in the frequent
skirmishes that arise between neighbouring tribes so little damage
is usually done. Several hundred men may spend the day in firing
at each other; a vast quantity of ammunition may be consumed; but
the list of casualties on both sides seldom exceeds half a dozen
killed and wounded.
At 11 A.M. we left our camping ground, and began to ascend the
valley, soon approaching the banks of the stream, which was
everywhere easily fordable. In places where it has cut a channel
through sandstone rock there was space to ride along the bed, and we
here found several rock-plants of some interest. The most conspicuous
was the European _Catananche cærulea_, not before seen by us,
but extremely common in the interior valleys of the Great Atlas,
growing two or three feet high in the warm zone, and dwindling to a
few inches in colder and exposed stations. Of greater interest was
_Selaginella rupestris_, a species of club-moss that makes the round
of the world in the tropics, but is very rare outside those limits.
Before long we began to ascend the slopes on the western side of the
valley. The hill was covered with a dense growth of shrubs and low
bushes, in great part evergreen, and had more the characteristic
aspect of the region surrounding the shores of the Mediterranean
than anything we had seen since leaving Tangier. But, although there
were several identical species, the differences were very marked,
and a single glance sufficed to show that we were far removed from
the flora of North Marocco. The arbutus was the sole representative
of its natural order, and no heath extends to the Great Atlas. The
oak-scrub, in this and the neighbouring valleys, is all formed of
some form of the evergreen oak, _Quercus lusitanica_, _Q. coccifera_,
and the allied forms being all absent. The Alaternus is common
to both regions, but a narrow-leaved form of _Rhamnus oleoides_
is here more common. Seven species of Cistus that adorn the hills
in North Marocco are on the slopes of the Great Atlas reduced
to two, and those the least conspicuous. On the other hand, the
number of bushy Labiatæ was here largely increased, and included
many peculiar species not known to grow elsewhere; and there were
many _Umbelliferæ_, of which several were not yet sufficiently
advanced for recognition. Of _Leguminosæ_, which everywhere play
a conspicuous part in the flora of this region, the most striking
novelty was a new _Coronilla_ (_C. ramosissima_, Ball), that forms
a low bush, with very numerous slender intricate branches, covered
at this season with rather small yellow flowers. In the midst of
so much that was strange to the eye, it was pleasant to see two
familiar European orchids, _Orchis pyramidalis_ and _Ophrys apifera_.
There was something comical in the effect of our long _cortège_,
with the escort swollen to-day by the addition of three sheiks of
the valley, winding solemnly up the slope of the mountain, but thrown
every now and then into general excitement by the appearance of some
unpretending plant. The order ‘catch him flower’ would then
issue to the native attendants, or one or other of the travellers
would set foot to ground the better to inspect it. But any sense
of incongruity between the pomp and circumstance of our mode of
travelling and the simple nature of our favourite occupation was
lost on the natives. To them one pursuit of civilised man is as
unintelligible as another, and they can conceive no other serious
occupation for men not forced to labour than war or hunting. It is
a curious instance of the survival of barbarous instincts, that
a good many people in our own islands, who imagine themselves to
belong to the upper classes of society, have scarcely advanced a
step beyond the mental condition of the Shelluh mountaineer.
We passed a village where we noticed some rude oil mills; and, after
an ascent of about a thousand feet, reached the summit of the ridge
dividing the valley we had left from the long and important one,
the upper part of which is known, from the tribe that inhabits it,
as Aït Mesan. It is very difficult to trace the course of the
streams that flow northward from this part of the Great Atlas,
because they are so extensively diverted into irrigation channels
that the natural bed is often dry, except after heavy rain. According
to Beaudouin’s map the streams from this and several adjoining
valleys all flow to the Oued Tensift by the east side of the city
of Marocco. This we were led to believe an error in that map. It
is probably true of the Ourika river and its affluents; but our
own observation, confirmed by the statements of the natives, led
us to think that all the streams from the Reraya district flow
north-westward after entering the plain, and unite with those from
the districts of Gurgouri and Amsmiz to form the river Oued Nyfs,
which we had passed at Misra ben Kara; the same name, variously
pronounced Oued Enfist or Oued Enfisk, being applied to several of
the separate torrents above referred to. It will be remarked that
the name Oued Enfist is merely an anagrammatic form of Oued Tensift,
the main river that drains all this portion of the Great Atlas;
and it is a question whether the natives do not apply the same
name, with the usual laxity as to the order of the consonants,
to all the affluents of the principal stream.
After descending some way on the western side of the ridge, we
came in sight of a large village perched on the summit of a hill,
on the opposite side of the stream that ran at a great depth below
us. This we soon learned to be Moulaï Ibrahim, a _zaouia_, or
sanctuary, much venerated in all this part of Marocco, governed by
a sherreef, belonging to the family of the saint whose tomb is the
chief building of the village. This semi-independent sherreef gave
permission to M. Balansa to remain in the village for some days in
1867; but just as that active traveller was prepared to attempt to
penetrate into the interior of the chain, an order from El Graoui
made it necessary for him to depart, and follow the direct way to
Marocco. As we came in sight of the _zaouia_, each of our troop,
Shelluh as well as Moor, commenced to recite prayers, and then,
after prostrating himself on the ground, with his face towards the
sanctuary, proceeded to add a stone to certain heaps that stood
beside the track. The Berebers, in general, are said to be very
lax in conforming to the precepts of the Koran, but they are as
assiduous in their show of reverence for saints and sanctuaries
as the Moors themselves, and it would appear that this is the only
practical form in which their religion exhibits itself.
On the summit of the ridge, which may be about 4,500 feet above
the sea, the rock is a grey schist, often shaly in texture, with
the strike about east and west, and clipping at a high angle
approaching the vertical. These beds may perhaps be identical
with the schists, sometimes containing mica, and sometimes more
calcareous in composition, which we afterwards found at the head of
the Amsmiz valley, and with the rock, described as micaceous schist,
seen by Washington in his ascent from Tasseremout. Our course now
lay about due south, parallel to that of the torrent which ran at a
considerable depth below us. At Moulaï Ibrahim this, according to
M. Balansa, is called Oued Ghaghaia, but we never heard any similar
designation for it. The difficulty of seizing the shades of more or
less guttural sounds from the mouths of the natives makes it not
improbable that the word Ghaghaia of M. Balansa is the same that
we agreed in writing Reraya, and that the name may mean that this
is the stream draining the district of Reraya.
On this ridge we found that curious grass, _Lygeum Spartum_,
characteristic of Sicily and Southern Spain, where it is much used
for making fine basket-work, but not seen elsewhere in Marocco. Soon
after we lit upon a single specimen of a very fine plant of the
artichoke family, evidently distinct from all those described, but
unfortunately not yet in flower. It has been provisionally named
_Cynara Hystryx_ (Ball). The next find was not less interesting—an
Oriental _Echinospermum_ (_E. barbatum_ of Lehmann) that extends
from the Punjab to Asia Minor and the Caucasus, but had not before
been seen in Africa.
About two o’clock we left behind us the rough irregular ground
over which we had been riding, and found ourselves in a broad open
valley, with a level floor, half a mile or more in width, at the
head of which rose some fine snow-seamed peaks. As we advanced
towards the main chain, our suspicion that the dividing ridge and
the higher peaks were at once more distant and more lofty than had
hitherto been supposed, was more and more confirmed; and we were
soon able to certify that M. Balansa’s expectation that any of
the higher points might be reached in a single day from Moulaï
Ibrahim was based on miscalculation of the scale of these mountains.
[Illustration:_J. B. delt._
GREAT ATLAS FROM LOWER VALLEY OF AIT MESAN]
Our short mid-day halt was in a pleasant spot, under the shade of
some very fine carob and olive trees, in view of a village with
large quadrangular windowless buildings, that seemed to show that
the mountaineers here are far better lodged than the people of
the plain. The nearer hills, and one of the higher but nearer
peaks, displayed long unbroken lines of escarpment, formed by
the exposed edges of thick beds of rock (doubtless sandstone),
of a deep red colour, indicated in the annexed plate. We here
noticed the first indication of one prominent characteristic of the
Great Atlas flora—the reappearance of many of the common field
plants of Europe, which are not seen in the lower region. Among
others, we gathered three species of _Ranunculus_ (_R. arvensis_,
_R. parviflorus_, and _R. muricatus_) beside our halting place.
We were soon again in the saddle, and every step as we advanced
disclosed some new object of interest, either in the scenery that
gradually opened before us, or in the vegetation close at hand. We
passed close to a village where the demeanour of the people was
more distinctly friendly than we had yet experienced since we
landed at Tangier. The whole population—men, women unveiled,
and children—turned out to see the cavalcade pass, and something
approaching to a smile was seen on many a countenance. It appeared
that the fame of Hooker’s skill as a _hakim_ had travelled before
us, and during the following days his patience was often tried
by the numbers who flocked to consult him. In this and the other
neighbouring valleys there are a good many Jews, who appear to
find life among the Shelluhs less hard than among the Arabs of the
plain. True to the instinct of race, they contrive to make a living
as brokers, by conducting the sale of the surplus produce of the
mountain country to Moorish traders, and the purchase of the grain,
which must be brought from the low country for the subsistence of
the people.
Some more fine plants were collected by the way. Among these were
three species of _Astragalus_, one of them new, but nearly allied
to _A. narbonensis_; and _Atractylis macrophylla_, of Desfontaines,
a noble plant of the thistle tribe, much the most ornamental of the
genus, reaching a height of three feet; but, as it flowers late,
we saw only the withered heads of the previous year.
About 6 P.M. we reached the spot which was destined to be our
head-quarters for several days. The site chosen was an olive
grove, on a shelf of level ground about one hundred feet above the
stream. The soil in the openings between the trees must have been
lying fallow for some time, and was not so uncomfortably rough as
the ploughed land on which we often had to pitch our tents. The two
nearest villages are named Hasni and Tassghirt; but the former was
taken by us as the name of the place that became to us a sort of
temporary home. By the mean of four nearly concordant observations,
compared with those at Mogador, the height of our camp was 4,205 feet
(1,281·8 m.) above the sea.
By the time we were installed in our tents it was nearly dark,
but a much longer delay occurred before the _mona_ arrived from the
neighbouring village. The interval was well employed in a negotiation
with Si Hassan, the sheik of the valley, ending by an engagement
on his part to conduct us on the following day ‘to the snow.’
With eager anticipation, we rose early on the morning of May 13,
and soon made our arrangements for the day’s excursion. Abraham,
with most of the escort, remained in charge of the camp, while three
or four of the soldiers went with us, and Si Hassan with two or
three wild-looking followers took charge of the expedition. During
the past fortnight, our Mogador attendants, and especially Ambak,
whose superior intelligence was conspicuous, had picked up enough
of English to make the constant presence of a regular interpreter
less necessary than it had been at first, though occasions were
pretty frequent when the attempts at mutual understanding between
us and the Shelluhs were evidently unsuccessful.
Immediately above our camp the valley narrows rapidly, and for some
miles the torrent flows through a mere cleft with steeply sloping
precipitous sides. To avoid this, the upward track ascends steeply
for several hundred feet, and is then carried along the slope at
a considerable height above the torrent. After suffering from the
usual delays, we commenced the ascent about eight o’clock. The
morning was bright, and the temperature delightful. The thermometer
had fallen to 50° about sunrise, but during the day it stood
some ten degrees higher in the shade in the middle part of the
valley. To a party of naturalists it was tantalising work to ride
along the rocky track, passing at every step objects of the greatest
interest, yet unable to do more than snatch a fragment, or hastily
drag up an imperfect specimen. The pace over the broken ground was
necessarily slow, and it was easy for a man on foot to keep up with
the horses; but then the temptation to linger by the way became
irresistible. What botanist could be expected to pass by new and
hitherto unseen forms of vegetable life without at least securing
two or three specimens? As one or other of us yielded to the impulse,
he was called to order by the cry of his companions, ‘We must lose
no time—we must keep together’—and so reluctantly remounting,
he was forced to keep time with our sheik guide, who led the way. At
a point about four miles above our camp the valley opened a little,
and near a village (Ouanzerout?) our track lay through a grove of
large olive trees and then descended a little to cross the stream. We
now found this an impetuous torrent, with a much greater body of
water than it had showed where we crossed it the day before many
miles lower down, and a rocky bed full of deep holes through which
it was not quite easy to take our horses and mules.
Throughout the valley we were struck by the proofs of native industry
and skill given by the numerous irrigation channels, such as one
sees in Piedmont, and in the tributaries of the Rhone valley in
Switzerland, sometimes cut along steep faces of rock, sometimes
maintained by high terraced banks. Where the ground is favourable,
walnut trees are often planted along these watercourses, and must
largely contribute to the dietary of the inhabitants. It thus appears
that the drainage of the Great Atlas is, in great part, absorbed by
irrigation, even before the streams enter the low country, while
a further portion is there taken up for the same purpose, and but
a small percentage reaches the sea in ordinary weather. This helps
to account for much that at first sight appears so strange in the
hydrography of Marocco. A vast mountain region, fully exposed to
the currents of saturated warm air from the Atlantic, sends but four
rivers to the ocean from its northern and western flanks, in a coast
line of over 400 miles from El Araisch to Cape Guer; and these, at
ordinary times, are all easily fordable. But when rain falls on the
mountains, the irrigation channels are speedily filled to the brim,
and the entire surplus reaches the rivers, which are then said to
rise ten or twelve feet in the course of as many hours. As bridges
are unknown, the Moors speak of travellers being detained for many
days before a flooded river channel, as a common occurrence.
Above the ford, the valley was again contracted to a mere gorge,
and the narrow path mounts on its eastern flank, and winds along
the extremely steep rugged slopes much after the fashion of some
unfrequented valley of the Southern Alps. Although the sun was
already high, the mountain rose so sheer upon our left that the
shadow often gave welcome protection; and the track was so narrow
in places that we were not free from anxiety for the baggage animals.
The rock was now porphyry of a prevailing red colour, which, with
occasional intrusive masses of diorite and dark green basalt, makes
up the whole mass of the central ridge of the Great Atlas in this
part of the chain. As compared with the rich and varied flora,
insect life appeared, at least at this season, to be remarkably
scarce, and the only butterfly noted was _Papilio podalyrius_.
The porphyry rocks appeared to be very hard, and far less yielding
to erosion than those of somewhat similar character in South
Tyrol. Hence the gullies and ravines cut by the water channels,
round which the track wound, were not nearly so deep as those that
add so much to the picturesqueness of the scenery, and at the same
time to the length of the way for a traveller traversing the valleys
near Botzen. After winding along the slopes for several miles,
our track descended a little to approach once more the channel of
the torrent. The valley was still narrow; but the inclination of
its bed was much less, and the ground on either bank left space
for a track, and in places even for a strip of cultivation. The
natives seem to be quick at availing themselves of every spot
possible for agriculture. Rye and barley were here seen in ear,
and the olive extends very nearly to 5,000 feet above the sea,
or considerably higher than it does on the flanks of the Lebanon.
As our track ran along the bank of a slender watercourse, it was
completely overarched by a row of elder trees in full flower,
that forced us to lay our heads upon our horses’ necks, one of
many instances of the meeting of the common plants of Northern
Europe with very different endemic forms that characterise the
upper region of the Great Atlas. Some conspicuous plants of the
lower country, and notably _Adenocarpus anagyrifolius_ and _Linaria
ventricosa_, extended thus far up the valley; and these, together
with a wild _Isatis_, scarcely different from the dyer’s woad,
gave a prevailing golden hue to the neighbouring slopes. A reach
of the valley now opened before us, backed by a stern range of dark
red bare rocky peaks. On our own (the eastern) flank, the enclosing
wall receded somewhat, and above a high and rather steep convex
acclivity stood a village whose people had brought the whole slope
into cultivation. The torrent ran through a cleft on the right
of this knoll, and our course lay directly up it, amidst fields
and meadows, gay with spring flowers, all enclosed within stiff
hedges of thorny bushes, among which our common gooseberry was
abundant. As if because the natives would spare no space that could
be turned to profit, we soon found that on the steeper portion of
the ascent the only way was up the bed of a brawling stream that
had for irrigation’s sake been diverted from the upper course of
the torrent. The track lay over big blocks of porphyry, with deep
holes between, over which the water leaped and tumbled, between
straggling branches of spiny bushes, that left many a mark on the
faces and clothing of the passing horsemen. Up to this we had little
experience of what the horses and mules of Marocco can do in the way
of getting over rough ground, and it was not without surprise that
we saw how successfully they managed to scramble up the slippery
channel over blocks worn smooth by the constant passage of men and
animals. In the midst of the scramble we all dismounted, for we here
saw for the first time the blue daisy of the Atlas, growing in the
shade under the bushes, or nestling in the hollows between the rocks.
Having reached the top of the knoll at about noon, we found a sort
of shelf of nearly level ground, covered in great part by a large
village of rude but solid stone houses. Here a halt was called,
and we were informed that a _mona_ was provided to supply the
mid-day meal for the party. Burning with impatience, as we were,
this was anything but a welcome announcement. The dark ridges
rising thousands of feet above the head of the valley were still
distant, and no snow was to be seen, save in rifts and hollows
of the rocks, high up and difficult of access; but to refuse the
proffered hospitality of the mountain chieftain would have been
deemed an affront; and to insist on taking our escort on without
food would have caused discontent, if not mutiny. We made a virtue
of necessity, and, while awaiting the repast, carried on a semblance
of broken conversation, in which the ready wit of Ambak, our ever
active attendant, supplied, it is likely, the chief materials. The
name of the village, even more difficult to seize than usual,
was noted by Hooker as Adjersiman. It stands, by our observations,
at 5,535 feet (1,687 m.) above the sea level.
An hour—a whole precious hour—was consumed before the meal was
over, and we were again on our way. Above the village the bed of the
valley rises very steeply, the central part being filled with a vast
mound of huge boulders, which on further examination proved to be the
undoubted remains of the terminal moraine of the glacier which once
filled the head of the valley. The principal mass of course marked
the limit of the glacier during a prolonged period; but there were
traces of two parallel moraines of smaller size, of which the outer
marked the limit of its maximum extension. The blocks of porphyry
and other metamorphic rocks were mostly of great dimensions.
The track was carried in zigzags up the face of the rocky slope,
keeping towards the top close to the edge of the moraine; and on
reaching the summit of the barrier disclosed to us for the first
time a full view of the head of our valley. A few yards below us was
a small miserable-looking village called Arround, the highest in
this district. This stands at the meeting of two short and rather
broad glens, each enclosed by the rugged masses of the central
range of the Great Atlas. The shorter of the two, which opened on
our left in a SE. or ESE. direction, does not apparently reach the
main watershed, and a pass from its head would in all probability
lead to one of the tributary branches of the Ourika valley. The
other glen that opened right in front of us, somewhat W. of due S.,
was enclosed by a still loftier and more stern barrier, the rocks,
since the sky had become overclouded, having passed from a dull red
to a dark brown complexion. The ground for some distance behind
the village was flat and swampy, showing that a small moraine
lake had been filled up with gravel and silt. On the level space
most of the soil was under tillage, and wheat as well as rye and
barley are grown, and even maize, as we learned, is raised in this
inclement position. On the low dykes that enclose the little fields
we noticed _Iris germanica_, evidently planted, but whether for the
production of orris-root, or for the sake of ornament, we failed
to ascertain. The only large tree was the walnut, which had been
planted along the skirts of the cultivated ground.
Now that we were able to pry into the inner recesses of the chain,
we perceived that snow lay in abundance at a much lower level than we
had hitherto supposed, but nowhere in masses of any great extent. All
the higher ridges around us were extremely steep, though not cut
into actual precipices; but on these snow could nowhere accumulate,
save in clefts. Towards their base, however, at the foot of each
narrow ravine that furrowed their faces, at many spots not much
more than a thousand feet above our level, were large patches that
seemed likely to maintain their position for some time. Though not
without experience of mountain lands, we could none of us call to
mind any spot much resembling the scene before us. Nowhere in the
Alps is there anything of at all a similar character. Excluding the
village, and the small fields, and the walnut trees, which, after
all, filled but a small space in the view, there was something to
remind one of the wilder valleys of the Northern Carpathians, but
on a much greater scale. In the Tatra, as here, the rocks rise in
broken masses, very steep but not quite precipitous, and the snow is
seen only in clefts of the higher ridges, not because the climate
forbids it to accumulate, but because the surface affords so few
spots on which it can rest. But the rocky masses of the Tatra tend
to form isolated peaks, usually of rugged and very steep conical
shape; while in this part of the Great Atlas the depressions that
separate the summits are of little depth as compared to the great
height of the range. Seen from below, as from the spot where we
now stood, many points assume the aspect of sharp peaks; but it is
easy to ascertain, by varying the point of view, that these are mere
projecting bastions from the wall of the main chain, rising little,
or not at all, above the level of the adjoining ridges.
The day was already far gone—nearly two o’clock in the
afternoon—when, leaving our horses at the village, we started on
foot, with our sheik as guide, descending slightly to the level of
the stream, here easily crossed, and then mounting the slope on the
west side of the main branch of the valley in the direction of one of
the nearest of the patches of snow already seen by us. No guide was
needed, for the lower slopes on either side were easily accessible in
all directions; but the sheik evidently wished to fulfil in person
the promise of ‘leading us to the snow.’ Difficulty there
was none, except that of moving onward over ground where every
step brought to view some fresh object of interest. It was clear
that we had at last reached the threshold of the _terra incognita_
that we had so long dreamed of—the subalpine region of the Great
Atlas. There could be no doubt that in the short space between the
lower village and Arround—that is, between the lower end of the
ancient moraine and the ground formerly covered by glacier—the
flora had undergone a complete change. Nearly all the peculiar
species which we had hitherto looked on as characteristic of the
Great Atlas had disappeared, and their place was occupied in part by
others peculiar to this region, and not known elsewhere; but more
largely by species either identical or nearly allied to well-known
mountain plants of the Mediterranean region, along with some of the
common plants of middle Europe, including several familiar British
field plants.
It will be more convenient to reserve details for the remarks
on the vegetation of this and the Amsmiz valley, which will be
found in the Appendix; but it must be owned that the general
impression now made, and increased on further acquaintance, was
not free from disappointment. As compared with any of the higher
mountain masses surrounding the Mediterranean, already known to us,
this is singularly unproductive of ornamental species attractive
to the eye. The Sierra Nevada of Granada, the Lebanon chain, and
the mountain ranges of Asia Minor, all exhibit at this season a
multitude of bright-hued plants to delight the traveller, even
though they may not rival the splendour of the higher zone of the
Alps and Pyrenees to one who sees this a month or two later. Another
remarkable feature was the absence of trees, and especially of true
conifers. The dwarf evergreen oak that clothes the middle zone of the
Atlas was no longer seen, and there was no pine, or spruce, or cedar
to take its place. The solitary juniper that we afterwards saw was
scarcely noticed at this, our first, visit. It is sometimes said that
naturalists take no delight in the beauty of the objects of their
study; but this is surely untrue of the great majority. Probably the
notion has arisen from the fact that, in addition to the sources of
pleasure which he shares with the rest of the world, the naturalist
finds food for the sense of beauty as well as scientific interest,
unsuspected by his critics, in exploring the internal structure of
organised beings. Be this as it may, it is certain that the generally
sombre aspect of the vegetation, harmonising as it did with that of
the scenery, had a somewhat depressing effect on all the members of
our party, while at the same time it only increased our desire to
reach the upper part of the rugged barrier of rock that rose some
5,000 feet around the head of the valley where we stood.
Meanwhile, the afternoon was wearing away; we did not clearly
know how we were to return to our camp after dark, but remembered
distinctly one awkward place—the fording of the torrent—where
some daylight seemed indispensable. We hurried back, our portfolios
and tin boxes fully charged with spoil, and found the horses
and mules awaiting us on the flat ground below Arround. A man
can usually travel over rough mountain tracks as fast as a mule;
but if the man be a botanist, and the track lies among new and
rare plants, it is quite certain that he will not do so; and when
haste is a matter of real importance, it is necessary to submit to
the restraint of riding. Hurried as we were, it was necessary to
dismount and make a short halt on our return to Arround. The laws
of Bereber hospitality required that the villagers should present
a _mona_, and that we should at least make a show of partaking of
it. There was a large dish of barley porridge, with a lake of oil
in a crater-like hollow in the centre, and another of buttermilk,
in which were some of last year’s walnuts, as well as other
unexpected delicacies. This entertainment was briefly despatched
by our followers, and we proceeded down the steep track beside the
moraine, and again reached Adjersiman. Here, to our vexation, another
halt was called, and another slight refection was presented. Our
impatience was so far successful, that the delay was limited to a
very few minutes. We should, perhaps, have displayed more interest
in these specimens of native cookery, if we had been acquainted with
the curious passages in which Leo Africanus[1] minutely describes
the dietary of the Atlas mountaineers, and the mode of preparing
the identical dishes that were here presented to us.
Once more we were in the saddle, and the whole party felt that no
more delay was permitted. To ride down the steep, slippery bed of
the watercourse below the village seemed even a more trying affair
than the ascent; but our companions seemed to take it as a matter
of course, and our sturdy beasts accomplished the task bravely,
though not without hard struggling, that would have strained the
muscles of animals less strong and hardy. As always happens when
the ground is looked at in the reverse direction, we espied, on
retracing our track, several plants not before noticed, one or two
of them certainly new. No botanist can resist such a temptation,
even though he were flying for his life; and two or three times we
dismounted to snatch a specimen or two, but were soon recalled to
the necessity for pushing on. For the first time since we landed
in Marocco, the evening sky was overcast with heavy dark clouds,
and the last of twilight was fading fast when we reached the ford
over the torrent. The banks are here overarched by poplars and
other tall trees, and in the dim light the rapid stream seemed
fiercer, and its roar more menacing, than when we crossed it in
the morning. The passage was achieved; but not without a good deal
of excitement among our followers, when one of the soldier’s
horses slipped into a hole, and only after violent plunging and
loud shouting of the natives, scrambled to the farther bank.
Without more trouble we ascended the slope on the western side
of the valley, and reached the olive grove, to which we had given
little attention when we passed through it in the morning. This now
unexpectedly presented the most difficult, and even dangerous, stage
of our excursion. Such faint glimmering of light as remained up to
this disappeared under the trees, and gave place to absolute pitch
darkness. The rough spreading boughs, all beset with the ragged,
leafless, half-dead branchlets characteristic of old olive trees,
stretched out on every side, at a height of four or five feet from
the ground. There was no regular beaten track through the grove,
but by day it was easy for man and horse to thread a way among the
trees. The case was now very different. Our keen-sighted Shelluh
followers were as much at a loss as we were. One or two men on
foot went first, and we then followed, the train being brought up
by the soldiers of our escort. For a while, by moving slowly and
cautiously, nothing serious happened. The beasts seemed to understand
the difficulty of the case, and as one or another of us rode against
a branch, with head bent down to lessen the risk of mischief, they
stopped at once, and even backed a step or two. Before long the
cavalcade was separated by long gaps. A loud cry of pain, followed
by the vociferations of the natives, brought the foremost to a full
stop, and after a while we were once more near together. It was not
altogether reassuring to be told by Ambak, when we asked the cause
of the row, that one of the soldier’s eyes had been torn out. On
this Ball determined to proceed on foot; but Hooker and Maw, after a
few steps over the very broken ground, thought it better to remount,
and rely on the sagacity of their four-footed companions.
In our awkward position the time seemed long; but at last we got
through the olive grove, and found when we emerged from it that
the night was even darker than before. It is well known to those
who have made night excursions in mountain countries, that anything
approaching absolute darkness, in places not overshadowed by trees
or rocks, is very unusual. It may be impossible to distinguish one
object from another; but the outline of opaque bodies against the
sky is almost always traceable, and it rarely happens that a path
is not in some degree distinguishable by its lighter hue from the
surrounding rocks or vegetation. On this night, however, nothing
whatever could be seen; and as we knew that the narrow track was
carried for the next three or four miles along a very steep slope,
precipitous in places, we felt that our difficulties were not yet
over. The horses and mules, however, showed themselves deserving of
the confidence placed in them. Ball, who led the way on foot, feeling
his way with an alpenstock, had a narrow escape, as, misplacing his
foot, he fell over the edge, but was luckily stopped by a dense mass
of thorny bushes, from which he was rescued with a little trouble. We
were heartily glad when, on reaching the spot where the track turns
downward towards the river, we at last saw the lights of our camp
glimmering through the trees. The roof of dark clouds overhead had by
this time grown rather less dense; some faint light helped us down
the steep slope, and a little before eleven o’clock we reached
the welcome shelter of our tents. The case of the wounded soldier
was first attended to. It was much less serious than we supposed;
the eye was not much injured, but there was an ugly flesh wound on
the face below it, where a jagged stem had torn through the upper
part of the cheek. Wounds heal with remarkable readiness among the
natives of this country, and after a few days nothing remained but
a scar on the man’s face. A sheep, several fowls, eggs, and three
large dishes of cooked food were soon forthcoming as the evening
_mona_, and a rather late supper closed the proceedings of the day.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 1: See Ramusio, _Delle Navigationi et Viaggi_. Venetia:
1563. Vol. i. 12.]