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.”