RAISULI’S STRATEGY
“War, with us,” said the Sherif, “is not as it is in Europe, for it is
hidden among the rocks and trees.
“In the West there is a plain, and across that country Silvestre
advanced. I could not fight him in the open, and there was little cover,
so all my men did was to harass his movements and make raids where his
posts were weakest. Sometimes they got right through his lines and
attacked the towns on the coast, but my policy was defence, not attack.
In this the Arabs are strong, and in the mountains, where even your
aeroplanes are useless, they can hold up an army with a few rifles. At
first my headquarters were at Garbia, from where I controlled all the
tribes who were with me. Each tribe had its own commander and, under
him, were so many flags,[56] with perhaps 200 men to each. These were
led by their Kaids, or by men whom the Sheikh appointed, and they fought
independently, but according to the plan which I made known to them.
With me there was no army, only a guard of my own people, and a ‘flying
column’ of messengers who took my orders to the tribes. This consisted
of 100 men on foot and 50 on horses, and they were paid 10 pesetas and
15 pesetas Hassani a day, for their work was dangerous. Among them were
spies who brought me news of the enemy, and men eloquent in speech, whom
I could send among the villages to stimulate the fervour of the people.
The tribesmen brought their own food and rifles, but, when necessary, I
provided the ammunition, which I was always able to get through Tangier.
Each Sheikh was entrusted with a store of guns from which to supply
deficiencies among his people. My idea was, not to attack Silvestre when
my men would have been butchered by his cannon, but to let him see that
the whole country was hostile, that death might come at any moment from
the most unexpected place. At this game the Arabs excel, and no man’s
life was safe, even were he locked into a room in his house.
“A soldier walking along the high-road between Ceuta and Tetuan saw
nothing but a cart with many empty sacks in it. The old man who led the
horse was half-clothed and had no weapon, but, hidden under the sacks,
lay a mountaineer who killed the soldier as he passed. Some Spanish
farmers lived in the middle of wide country where there was no shelter,
for even the grain was cut. When they came out one morning there was
nothing in sight except the stack beside the threshing ground, which
they had made the previous day, and the mules who nibbled at the dry
stalks. Yet the stack had been hollowed out in the night and, when the
farmers approached, they were shot by the men whose rifles peeped out
amidst the straw. At Rio Martin, soldiers were killed as they walked
between the houses of their people. A camp of engineers was destroyed,
when their agents reported no enemy within twenty miles. In every hedge
of cactus lay a tribesman, his rifle ready for the unwary, till at last
Alfau commanded that all hedges should be cut down and the country left
bare as a youth’s face.
“In the towns it was easy, for there were always many who would help. It
was necessary to have two parties and to choose a dark night. One group
fired from a distance, emptying their rifles wildly at the flashes which
had come out of the blackness. Instantly the other group, who had crept
much closer, often wiggling like snakes on their bellies, charged the
guard before they had time to reload and, without anything more than a
few scratches, they would be in the town, five or six against hundreds.
They would rush down one street killing all they could see, for the
loyal people had been warned to stay behind their locked doors, and,
when the pursuit grew too furious, they would take refuge in the
friendly houses of which they knew.
“No man gives up a guest, but once el Mudden and two others were hard-
pressed, and when they slipped through the back door of an ally, the
police were banging on the front, for it happened that the man was
suspected. Four friends were sitting talking to the master of the house
and the tea-trays were in front of them. The servants hurried in with
wails of distress, but without a second’s hesitation, the Sheikh bade el
Mudden and his followers lie flat beside the walls. Then he pushed the
mattresses against them, arranged the cushions over them and sat down
again with his friends. The police found the old man leaning against a
few bolsters and drinking mint-scented tea, while they discussed the
value of crops. ‘We must search the house,’ said the officer of the
Tabor. ‘You are harbouring the assassins who broke in at the gate.’
‘Empty words! You will find nobody but my servants. The house is at your
disposal. Search everywhere, but return and drink with us before you
go.’
“So it was all over the country. I ordered my men to take hostages
wherever it was possible, so that I might have some goods to market! A
brother and sister were captured within sight of the walls of Larache,
but the Government would not treat quickly, and they died on the journey
into the mountains, so after that I forbade the capture of women. Thus
it was the first year. Silvestre advanced slowly, for his transport was
bad, and often his men were as hungry as the tribesmen. Little came to
him from Spain, and the doctors cried out for instruments and the
gunners for ammunition; but after the first harvest, we suffered badly,
for the grain had been destroyed and there was no ploughing or sowing.
“In the East, the situation was different. Alfau advanced to Laucien,
but it was a peaceable march and he was in communication with me all the
time. He made no secret of his desire for peace, and I believe there was
much argument between the leaders. As soon as Laucien was occupied, the
tribesmen barred the way to the interior. I stationed three forces
across the ways to Xauen, Suq el Khemis and Ain Yerida; and Alfau knew
that he could advance no further without bloodshed.
“Ain Yerida is the gate of Tangier, for there the Tetuan road runs out
of the mountains towards Zinat. Xauen is at the foot of Beni Ahmas and
guards the last hiding-place of my people. Suq el Khemis is the sentinel
at my own gate, and these three places are the most important positions
in the West.
“When he found the tribesmen hostile, Alfau gave up his plan of joining
Silvestre by way of Ain Yerida, and all through the first war I ordered
Wadi Ras and Beni Mesauer to keep his attention occupied in the
neighbourhood of Laucien. There was but one big fight between us, and
this was at Ben Karrish, where I had a house. Slowly, and by way of many
skirmishes, the Spaniards advanced towards the village. They paid toll
at every olive-grove and the price was heavy.”
The Sherif paused to order the tent door to be closed, for the sun was
creeping in across the carpets. Menebbhe raised himself from his
crouching attitude behind the brazier, whose perfume drifted slowly on
the hot, heavy air. “The Spaniards are brave,” he said, “but foolish. I
remember we lay out on the hillside above the first fort beyond Tetuan.
There was neither wire nor bags full of sand, and every morning the
officer used to make a walk (reconnaissance) with a few men, to see that
the country was quiet. Ullah, we waited for the music that announced his
coming, and while it was scarcely light we heard the bugle”—he beat the
time merrily. “The gate opened, and out came six or seven riders, the
captain leading on a white horse. They could be seen from every rock on
the mountains, and we thought, ‘Allah has certainly delivered them into
our hands.’ I said to my men, ‘Choose each of you one, and be sure that
he falls. Take you the brown horse and you the grey. I will account for
the leader myself.’
“On they came, riding by twos, with the captain in front, but, when we
fired, they scattered like partridges. Ullah, my aim was bad. The white
horse fell but the captain got up unhurt. His revolver was in his hand,
and he looked round, as if uncertain. His men were running back to the
fort—those who were still alive. The officer called to them, but they
did not hear. Then he came up the hill alone, straight towards us, who
were hidden from him. His hat had fallen off and his eyes were staring
as if he would look through the rocks to the earth. He was talking to
himself as he stumbled upwards, and I said to my men, ‘Wait. This is not
the time to waste a bullet,’ so we lay still until he fell right among
us, and then, before he could use his revolver, we dragged him down and
cut off his head. He was brave, but he had no chance.” “How
extraordinarily cowardly!” I exclaimed. “Why didn’t you take him
prisoner?” The Kaid crushed up his lips between his fingers, and looked
at me sideways. “We took no prisoners. Ask Badr ed Din. How could we?
There was not enough food for ourselves.”
The Sherif continued his story as if there had been no interruption.
“Ben Karrish was difficult to take, for we held the hillside above it.
There was fierce fighting, and a man came to me as I prayed in the
mosque, and said, ‘Save yourself, Sidi. If you are killed, we shall be
defeated.’ The blessing was with me, and I told them, ‘This is not the
only place where the bullets will fall round me, for we shall be driven
back to the walls of our country, but we shall not lose it. Fear for
yourself, but not for me. I shall never fly before the rifles of the
Christians.’ As he stood in the door of the mosque the man was killed,
and I continued my prayers.
“In the night we went away, for thirty of my men were dead and nearly
200 Spaniards.[57] It is always the attackers who lose in this country,
for the land protects its own. The news of this defeat was brought to
the men of Beni Hosmar, and, disobeying the commands of their leaders,
they flung themselves on Tetuan. It is not possible to take a walled
city armed with cannon, but the Arabs had the blood of kinsmen to
avenge. The war cry rippled along the ranks, and no one heeded the
slain. It was like a hunt, and each man would be the first at the kill,
and they shouted and laughed as they ran, but they could not approach
Tetuan. In the flat stretch which is below the city the guns swept them
away like thistle-heads in the wind and, when they returned to their
villages, there was not a house without its mourning. The death-cry
echoed through the night, but, in the morning, the Sheikhs gathered
together their people and told them, ‘You would not listen for us, and
you threw away the protection which Allah has given you. Now heed our
advice and let there be no sleep in the town at night.’ So it was
arranged and all the Christians feared the darkness, when the very
cobbles in the streets seemed to rise up and shoot them. Many merchants
moved their households and their goods to Tangier, and others took
refuge at Ceuta, where they said, ‘The sea is our friend.’
“Alfau sent again to treat with me, but the tribesmen did not understand
this method of making war. They said, ‘What is in the mind of the Sherif
for with one hand he fights the Spaniards and with the other he welcomes
their messengers?’ In the West, Silvestre was strengthening his line,
for he wished to cut off all my communications with the coast. In this
he was helped by Dris er Riffi, who stole everything that was in my
house. Even the lamps he took, and the railings which were cemented to
the floor. All my properties were confiscated, and in one of my houses
there was a hospital, but the Arabs thought this was unlucky. ‘The
enemies of the Sherif will surely die under his roof,’ they said.
“In June, Al Kasr was attacked, not because the town could be taken, but
to cover the exit of some stores which had been collected for me in
secret. My men hid in an olive-grove and when the Spaniards charged
through it, firing their rifles as if in play, the trees showered
bullets on them instead of olives, for the tribesmen hid among the
branches and shot carefully and without hurry. On that occasion many
Spaniards were killed, and, under cover of the tumult, my caravan
slipped away through my own properties, where there were always men
ready to help.
“After this I went to Tangier to see the German Minister, who had been
my friend. His country was very strong and I thought her support would
be useful. I would have no enemies in Europe, but only one friend, and
that my own country. He told me that he could send rifles and grain to
the hills, if I could supply the beasts to carry them, and he talked of
the aim of Germany, which was different from yours. France, England and
Spain always wish to divide the land of the Arabs. You set one tribe
against another, hoping to profit by our quarrels. You support a ruler
until you think he is strong enough to interfere with your plans, and
then you instigate others against him. It is a bad policy. Germany
wished to unite all the north of Africa under the Commander of the
Faithful.[58] Turkey is not popular in Morocco, though all men prayed
publicly in the mosque that she might win the war, but her rule is
better than that of Europe, and Stamboul is far away. Each country would
have its Kaliph,[59] and all the tribes would have been united under one
ruler. This was a good policy, for, unless there is a strong head, the
Arabs cannot unite. They do not understand how Europe makes use of them
because of this. The prophet foretold it, and, as was written, we are
divided into many sects, but there is still Islam, and, when Allah
wills, it shall be again as it was in the time of the Omeiads.
“When I returned to Zinat, and heard of the famine in Beni Gorfet, whose
villages had been burned by the Spaniards, so that the people were
living in caves and eating herbs, I sent them many sacks of grain and as
many arms as they desired. Then I wrote to the Kaids of Anjera, for it
was in my mind to unite all the tribes to stand firm against Silvestre.
Remember this first war was never with the intention of driving Spain
from the country. It was forced upon us, and, though the tribesmen used
the term ‘Nasrani’[60] as a match to their powder, this was never my
idea.
“I thought, ‘If Spain finds she cannot advance, she will make peace,’
and I spoke in this way to the Shiekhs, saying, ‘Be patient, for your
sufferings are fertile with the seed of the future. The foreigners will
have learned a lesson from our stubbornness, and we shall be able to
live with them in peace.’ With regret I found the spirit of Moslems
hardening against the Christians, for I knew that this would be the
worst arm turned against peace. Yet, so difficult is it to unite our
people, I was obliged to make use of this spirit to counteract the
bribes offered by Silvestre, who sent his spies among the tribes to
visit the Sheikhs and talk to them of the benefits they would receive
from Spain. The people who were nearest the plains, such as the men of
Jebel Habib, were inclined to listen to his promises, for their farms
were open to attack, but, as they dared not break with me, they tried to
be friends with either side, and generally betrayed both.
“About this time, a journalist came to visit me in Zinat. He wore Arab
dress and spoke our language as one of us. He came in poor clothes,
dusty, with torn shoes, and said he had travelled with his companions
from Tetuan, and was seeking my protection that he might go further. My
men caught him and would have killed him, for they suspected his
disguise, but I came out and saw him among them, and thought I might
make use of him. I brought him into my house, and he told me his name
was Benani, Ahmed or Mohamed, and I did not let him see that I knew his
trick. I talked to him much of my life, not as I have told it to you,
for, being a woman, you love stories; but I told him my politics in the
past. I said again, ‘I am not fighting Spain. I am defending myself from
one who is my enemy; and Spain is not fighting Raisuli. She is battling
with ignorance and savagery, and she cannot conquer it. The foreigners
say to themselves, “If we take the road from Tetuan to Tangier, we shall
have conquered,” but the tribesmen retire further into the mountains,
and still there is war. Then they say, “If we capture Tazrut, it is the
end,” but they are wrong. There are still the mountains on every side.
If you destroy an Arab’s house, he goes and takes shelter with a friend.
If you burn his crops, he eats figs. If there are no figs, he lives on
grass and what game he can shoot. If all his villages are burned, he
goes away, saying, “It is the will of Allah,” and he sits down behind a
rock and digs a little hole to sleep in. When that is discovered, he
finds another and, always, he cleans his gun.’ It was a long
conversation, and, after it, I sent the man to Tangier, but I said to
him, ‘Do not come back, for I shall not speak twice through the same
trumpet.’
“Dris er Riffi was still my worst enemy, for a man’s hatred is always
bitterest against those he has wronged. Silvestre wished to destroy
Zinat and, with that purpose, er Riffi gathered a force of discontented
tribesmen, promising them the loot of my house; but their women were
afraid and came out of the villages and clung to their relatives,
weeping and saying that a curse would be on their children and
misfortune would always be with them. So the harka[61] melted away, and
nothing happened. You have seen one of those little whirls of dust,
blown up above the fields by a wind, which dies as suddenly as it was
born?
“My letters to the Kaids of Anjera had borne fruit and the rising spread
among their tribesmen. Every day we grew stronger, and, when I sent some
Sherifs to the neighbourhood of Ben Karrish to find out what was the
attitude of the East, they reported this answer: ‘No peace with the
Christians till even Tangier is returned to us!’
“It was full summer, and the posts of Silvestre crawled nearer across
the plains, but el Binagri and his warriors held the roads. No man could
pass without his authority, and there was no communication except by
sea. The telegraph-posts were used in the rebuilding of our farms and
the wire took the place of cut fences. Alfau resigned, for he was
strongly opposed to the war, and each encounter seemed to him a new
disaster. Spain had many thousand troops in the country, perhaps
50,000,[62] but Silvestre could not cut the line to Tangier, from which
I drew all my material.
[Illustration: Raisuli’s house at the Fondak of Ain Yerida. “The great
do not need great houses”]
[Illustration: Raisuli’s house—the Zawia—at Tazrut, the sacred tree
appearing through the roof of an inner room]
“Marina came out as High Commissioner and, for some time, was
indecisive. He would not support Silvestre because of my friends the
journalists, who still cried, ‘Soldiers, lay down your arms, for you are
shedding your blood among strangers, without profit to your country.’
Ullah, do all writers conceive such nonsense? Zugasti was then in the
Arab Bureau at Tetuan, and, doubtless, he influenced Marina, for, once
again, the negotiations began.
“I was in Jebel Habib and Silvestre had occupied Questa Colorada, which
was a great step on the way to Tangier. When the summer was nearly over,
there was a battle at Xarkia, and I moved out to see the extent of the
fight. I pitched my camp in a wood at Meyabah, and there messengers
reported to me. My men had not sufficient ammunition for this kind of
fighting, but I could not risk losing the control of the roads. Binagri
arrived when the tribesmen were tiring before the Maxims of the
Spaniards. It was a pretty sight, for he charged the rear with his
warriors, shouting and standing up in their stirrups as if it had been a
race. They rode through the rear-guard as hares through corn, and hardly
a saddle was empty. The Spaniards swung round to face them, but they
were gone, and re-forming among the hills. My men took courage and their
firing steadied, but, though Silvestre stayed his advance, we could not
drive him back.
“The year of your great war arrived, and still we were fighting. Mulai
Buselhan, Kudia el Abid, many places that you do not know of, were taken
from us in the West, but the mountains were untouched, and, still, from
the East and the offices where Marina and Zugasti bent double over their
correspondence, came offers of peace. There could be no peace for me
while my enemy was still in the country. It has never been wide enough
for us both.
“The war had become more general. All the hillmen took part in it and,
at last, they proclaimed me Sultan of the Mountains. It happened in
Xauen, where I had ridden to meet the Ulema[63] of Beni Gorfet, Ahl
Serif and Ahmas. I came with a tired horse and men footsore from the
pace of our journey, and, without warning, the people fell down in the
streets and hailed me, ‘Allah keep my lord the King!’ Then the wise men
said to me, ‘It is the will of the people. Be Sultan among us, for Mulai
Jusef[64] is in the hands of the French and there is none to govern us,’
but I said, ‘Wait a little. These things must go slowly.’
“Next day there was a great gathering in the market-place, below the old
castle where one of my race ruled 300 years ago. The people shouted,
‘The Commander of the Faithful may not be under Christian protection. So
it is written. Therefore take the place which is empty, and we will obey
you.’ They spread carpets in the streets and the women peeped out of the
windows and threw scent upon us as we passed. The Ulema prepared a
proclamation and it was read to the people before the last prayers. The
market-place was ablaze with torches and every house had a lantern. It
was an old man who read it, a Sheikh of much honour, and his voice was
lost among the murmur of the people like the sea which will not be
withheld. At the end they went into the mosque, and every male who was
of age was present, so that there was no room within the walls for the
worshippers. Men bowed themselves outside till the dust was on their
foreheads, and the thronged suq took up the prayer and repeated it under
the stars.
“The brown robes of the mountaineers were indistinguishable in the
darkness, and it seemed as if the whole earth worshipped God.
“I did not sleep that night, nor was there any rest in my house, for,
till dawn, I talked to the Ulema and we said the first prayers together.
Always I thought of the peace which must soon come, and I did not wish
to complicate my policy with Spain. I wanted to treat with her as the
representative of a united country, but not as the Kalipha of Islam, so
I urged the Sheikhs to keep secret the doings of the night. I told them,
‘You look ahead but a year or two, and you see us victorious over Spain,
but, if that is your object, look still further into the future, for the
French bayonets will press hard upon the heels of Spain’s departure.’
They listened to me, but they were not convinced.
“I returned to Jebel Habib, and there I found news that Dris er Riffi
wished to make peace with me. From the first I could not believe this,
for he is not one to leave a successful master. I guessed that he had
conceived a new plot against me, but I agreed to receive his messengers,
for how else could I discover his purpose? They came, but they would not
look at my face, and their words were evasive. They insisted that er
Riffi desired to see me, but they were embarrassed about fixing the
place of meeting. I thought it was because they meant to arrange an
ambush, so I led them on and suggested a village at the foot of the
mountains, without any intention of going, but in order to see what
excuses they would offer. But they became worried and agreed to
everything, saying, ‘If it is the will of the Sherif, our master will
submit.’
“The interview ended uncertainly, and I was puzzled, so, after the
messengers had gone, I went to the mosque to pray. I had received the
men in a hovel at the outskirts of the village, for I thought they might
be spies come to see our strength, and there was nothing of mine there
except the carpets that we sat on. When I came to the mosque I ceased
troubling over the reason of er Riffi’s mission, though men came to me,
asking anxiously, ‘What has happened between you?’ and I reassured them,
saying, ‘The wisdom of Allah will make it plain. Come with me to pray.’
We entered, but had scarcely accomplished the first raqua-at, when
thunder burst from the village. The explosion shook the mosque, and my
companions would have run out, fearing that their people were being
bombarded, but I restrained them—‘Nothing will happen to you, and what
is more important than prayer?’ They stayed, and we finished the
appointed raqua-at, but, though their lips moved and their bodies bowed
themselves automatically, each man’s mind was outside.
“It was clear to me, of course, as soon as I heard the explosion, that
the mission of er Riffi had been to place a bomb in my house. Possibly
his messengers had hidden it under the cushions while they drank my tea
and wished me peace in the name of their God! When we left the mosque
and I saw the crowd all hastening in the same direction, I said to my
friends, ‘You remember I told you that Allah would explain our
difficulties? See now, how he has done it,’ and still they did not
understand, but, when they saw the ruin of the house where I had
entertained the envoys, they cried, ‘Sidi, the baraka is indeed with
you! Allah has preserved you, praise be to him!’
“The story was spread among the tribes, so, out of the treacherous hand
came good instead of harm, for the people believed it a miracle and knew
that a special blessing was with me. My honour grew among Moslems, and
many who had been uncertain joined me. The country would no longer
proclaim me Sultan, and the hillmen brought me wild pigs, for it is said
there must always be one of these animals, a young male, in the stables
of the king, to bring him good fortune and because the horses eat better
on account of the boar’s smell.
[Illustration: Facsimile of a letter from Raisuli to Rosita Forbes]
“At Tazrut the proclamation was read at the door of the mosque where my
ancestor is buried, and, throughout Ben Aros, at each of the seven
shrines of my family, a messenger repeated it to the tribesmen who
gathered from every side with offerings of beasts. But the sacrifice was
not permitted, for, in war, there is a dispensation and each family had
need of its cattle. Only one bullock was killed, dying on its knees
before the Qubba, and its blood was splashed on the threshold and on the
lintel. Men dipped their hands in it and left their finger-marks on the
wall, believing that they would be recognized in heaven by this means.
“After this I withdrew from Jebel Habib to Tazrut, which is the centre
of my country, but, though my illness had already begun and I suffered
such pain that I groaned in the middle of my speech, I did not stay
there for long. I went backwards and forwards among the mountains with
Mubarak and Ghabah and a few chosen men. We travelled so fast and by way
of such difficult places that the legend grew that the Sherif was in all
parts at once. Men fought more fiercely because they never knew at what
moment I would be with them, and often there was a cry of, ‘Here is the
Sherif,’ stimulating the fervour of those who grew hopeless, when really
el Raisuli was at the other end of the country. It was told that I could
make myself invisible at will, and leaders shouted to their followers,
‘The Sherif watches us. He will reveal himself when we are victorious!’
“There were many nights when we slept on the ground, with our saddles
for pillows, and there were days when we rode without food, but I always
ate less than my men, and watched often while they slept, so that they
might realise my strength. There were hours when I could not eat because
of the pain, but my foot was always ready for the stirrup and my hand
the last to draw rein.”