French deserters—Sardinian prisoners—Their story—Letter to
Algiers—Raising the camp—Abd-el-Kader—The only cannon—The Bey of
Mostaganem—Return to El-Kaala.
Meurice and I were not the only Europeans in the camp, there were
three Sardinian prisoners and two French deserters. The latter
described to me in the strongest terms the misery they had to endure.
In spite of their goodwill and their services the Arabs nearly starved
them to death and treated them with the utmost contempt. They bitterly
repented having forsaken their flag, and would have been overjoyed to
return to it could they have been assured against being shot. One of
the deserters, called Jean Mardulin, had rendered all kinds of good
offices to Meurice; and indeed the poor fellow well deserved pardon,
for the cruel treatment of the Arabs had punished him quite enough for
his desertion.
The three Sardinian prisoners appeared more wretched still. I begged
one of them to give me an account of the manner in which he and his
two companions had fallen into the hands of the Arabs, which he did as
follows, after we had stretched ourselves on the ground in the tent.
“Early in July 1836 the three Sardinian coral boats the St. John
Baptist, the Conception, and the Jesus and Mary, arrived at a small
uninhabited island or rather rock, situated at a few thousand yards
from the shore between Cherchell and Mostaganem, near which the owner
of the St. John Baptist and the Conception had discovered a rich bank
of coral. We all three served as coral fishers on board these vessels.
On arriving at the little island we found two barks, one stranded and
the other afloat, the latter was manned by six Moors from Cherchell
whom we had formerly known at Algiers.
“We were delighted to fall in with people we knew, and immediately
asked the Moors whether we had anything to fear from the Arabs at
Ténez. The Moors told us we need fear nothing, as the Arabs had no
boats of their own and could not get to the island; they might,
indeed, the Moors said, make use of their boats to come and attack
us if they found out what we were doing; and in order to prevent any
danger of such an event the Moors promised not to leave the island all
the time our fishery lasted, on condition that we should supply them
with provisions. We closed with their offer without hesitation, as we
thought we had honest men to deal with, and had often taken a pipe
and a cup of coffee with them at Algiers. Accordingly we shared our
biscuit and brandy with them and began our fishery, which proved so
abundant that in five days we had already got nearly a hundred pounds’
worth of coral. We told the Moors how well pleased we were with the
success of our fishery, and from that moment their manner was no
longer so friendly towards us, and their faces betrayed agitation and
disquiet.
“Angelo Floria, the master of the St. John Baptist, was the first to
remark the change that had taken place in the Moors, whose prolonged
stay on a desert rock had already excited his suspicions. He had long
frequented this coast, and knew how much he had to be on his guard
against the Arabs: he therefore warned us not to trust our pretended
friends too implicitly. Floria’s warning made a deep impression on the
crews of the three boats, and on the morning of the sixth day we all
resolved to leave our anchorage under the island and to withdraw to
the westward of the Cape of Ténez, where we knew of a safe anchorage.
Unfortunately the wind rose during the day, and the Conception and the
Jesus and Mary were unable to double the cape and forced to return
to the island. The master of the St. John Baptist had reached the
anchorage, but when he found that the other two boats did not join
him he came back to the island to look for them. Meanwhile, after
anchoring the Conception and the Jesus and Mary, some of us landed
on the island, where we were immediately assailed by a shower of
balls, and a troop of Arabs, who had been brought by the Moors from
Ténez, rushed upon us, brandishing their yataghans. Laurentio Figari,
the master of the Jesus and Mary, was the first who fell by their
shot, and his head was instantly cut off with a yataghan. My two
fellow-prisoners, a little boy, and myself fell into the hands of the
Arabs. I received eight wounds from their yataghans while endeavouring
to revenge myself on the rascals who had so basely betrayed us. The
rest of the crew jumped into the sea and were shot by the Arabs, who
then pillaged and burnt the Jesus and Mary and the Conception.
“After sharing the plunder, the Arabs set out for Ténez. They
halted about half way and deliberated whether they should kill us
or not; after a long discussion they determined to take us alive to
Abd-el-Kader, in hopes of getting some more money from him.
“We stopped two days at Ténez, where the generous kindness of the
inhabitants made up for the sufferings and privations of our journey.
The Kait of Ténez visited us continually, and asked us numberless
questions about the coral fishery: our account of it amused him very
much, and he took great interest in our fate, and prevented the Arabs
from beating us. I shall never forget the kindness of the women of
Ténez, who never left me the whole time I was there, nor ceased from
rubbing my wounds with butter and honey; they also gave us white
bread and fruit, and overwhelmed the poor little boy with caresses. I
could hardly believe that I was not at Genoa, instead of in a heathen
country, so great was their charity.
“We left Ténez on the third day and soon arrived at Abd-el-Kader’s
camp, where we have been prisoners for a month. We do not know whether
we shall be ransomed or exchanged, and we suffer continual misery and
ill-usage, notwithstanding which my wounds are quite healed, and we
all three hope that, with the assistance of the Blessed Virgin and the
French Governor, we shall in the end recover our freedom and return
home.
“Abd-el-Kader sent the little boy to his wife, who is just as kind to
him as the Arabs are cruel to us men. The Arab women will soon coax
the poor child into forgetting the Blessed Virgin, his own country,
and his mother, and they will teach him their prayers and make a
Mahomedan of him. We have not seen him since we came here, but,
perhaps, when Abd-el-Kader shifts his camp we may meet him somewhere.
“I hope, Sir, that when you write to the Generals at Oran or Algiers
you will not forget to say a word in favour of us three poor
Christians.”
I assured them that I would say as much for them as for myself,
whereupon they took their leave.
I had already asked the Sultan’s permission to write to Algiers and
Oran, to acquaint the authorities with my captivity, and my arrival
at Abd-el-Kader’s camp. At eight o’clock that evening I was conducted
to his tent, where he gave me his own pen, made of a reed, a bit of
coarse paper about the size of my hand, and his inkstand, which was
made of brass, of an oblong shape, with an inkbottle at one end and a
drawer for the pens at the other. A slave brought a brass candlestick,
such as stand on the altar of a village church in France. I lay on
the ground, and with the Sultan’s jewel-box for a table, I wrote one
letter to Admiral Dufresne, and another to General Rapatel, describing
the sufferings of Abd-el-Kader’s captives, and entreating them to
negotiate our exchange as quickly as possible. I then delivered the
two letters to Abd-el-Kader, who promised to forward them next day.
We were awakened very early in the morning by the chief of our tent
shouting, “Dogs of Christians, sons of dogs, get up! the tent is
coming down, for the Sultan has ordered the camp to be raised.” Scarce
were the words out of his mouth than the whole tent came tumbling down
upon Meurice and myself. This was one of the thousand pleasantries
with which the Arabs continually entertained us. We were still
struggling to disentangle ourselves from the tent, in which we lay
caught like fish in a net, when a drum beat the _reveille_, which was
followed in a few minutes by the signal of march for the infantry,
which accordingly started. The camels, mules, and pack horses were
immediately loaded with all the camp equipage, stowed in panniers
woven of the leaves of the dwarf palm. A third beat of the drum gave
the signal of departure to the muleteers and camel drivers. Meurice
and I were placed in the centre of this detatchment, which was under
the command of Ben Faka. In obedience to the Sultan’s order, we were
mounted on the two mules which carry Abd-el-Kader’s own coffers; the
Italian sailors were worse off,—they rode on camels. Among the
baggage I observed eight very ill-joined chests; these contained the
reserve cartridges.
Whenever the camp is raised Abd-el-Kader, who, like every other Arab,
begins his prayers at three in the morning, does not cease from them
until all the other tents are struck, and it is time for the slaves to
strike his, he then quits it, and seats himself at a short distance on
a silken cushion surrounded by the marabouts and chiefs. Meanwhile the
horsemen assemble, and place themselves in a line on his right hand,
with Muftar at their head, and the thirty negro slaves are drawn up
in a line on his left. The chiefs and the marabouts next mount their
horses, and as soon as the baggage has passed the limits of what was
the camp, a slave comes forward leading the Sultan’s horse, followed
by another bearing the footstool which he uses as a horseblock.
Abd-el-Kader’s favourite horse is a magnificent black charger; he
is the best rider I ever saw among the Arabs; and as his legs are
disproportionately short for the length of his body, the Arab fashion
of short stirrups, by concealing this defect, sets off his figure to
great advantage, and his appearance on horseback is at once graceful
and imposing. As soon as the Sultan is mounted, the chiefs give the
signal of departure; the nine musicians ride at the head of the
column, followed by eight Arabs bearing long rifles in red cloth
cases; I have often asked leave to examine them, but the Arabs always
answered, “They are the arms of the Sultan; a dog of a Christian like
thee is not worthy to behold them.” Next come four more horsemen
bearing the four flags which I have already described, and then
Abd-el-Kader, in the centre of a line of horsemen: behind him are the
thirty negroes, and they are followed by all the rest of the cavalry
pell mell. The Arabs never set out on an expedition until the sun has
risen.
No order or discipline is kept on their marches; thus, if a soldier
sees a fruit tree or a solitary tent he leaves the line to strip the
one or pillage the other.
Two strangely-harnessed mules, more lean and broken-winded than
hackney coach horses, drag the solitary cannon. Not a day passes on
which it is not overturned and half buried in the mud. I hope, for the
sake of the poor gunners, that it will at last be left behind fast
stuck, which will save them a vast deal of useless trouble and burning
of their fingers.
We left El Kaala on the 17th of August, and reached the plain of
Mostaganem at one o’clock the same day, where we encamped, at a
distance of four leagues from the town. The Arabs always turn their
tents with the opening towards the east, and such accuracy do they
acquire by habit, that at whatever time they pitch their tents they
are invariably greeted by the first rays of the rising sun. Ben Faka
determines the situation of the camp, and superintends in person the
erection of the Sultan’s tent and the watering of the ground all about
it. These arrangements are scarcely completed when the screeching of
the music announces the approach of Abd-el-Kader. A number of horsemen
detatch themselves from the main body, which they precede by about
ten minutes, and gallop to the camp, where they suddenly wheel round,
and return at full speed to meet the advancing column, aiming their
rifles full at the Sultan all the while. When they are within shot
of him they turn their guns a little aside, and send their bullets
whistling about his ears. This salute goes on till he is within the
camp, when the horsemen range themselves in a line on the right of the
tent, and the thirty negroes on the left, the band plays as loud as
ever it can, and the cannon announces the arrival of Abd-el-Kader to
the neighbouring tribes: the Sultan makes his horse prance along the
line formed by his cavalry, and glances proudly around him, two slaves
open the curtains of the tent, the horse rears and neighs violently as
he enters it and tramples upon the carpet, while the Arabs stand in
open-mouthed admiration of the grace and activity of their Sultan; the
faithful Ben Faka offers his back to assist his lord in dismounting,
and a slave leads away the horse and walks him up and down before the
tent for ten minutes; the marabouts and chiefs surround Abd-el-Kader,
who orders the drums to beat, upon which the ranks are broken and men
and horses repair to the tents, which the baggage attendants have
already pitched for them.
The chiefs of the neighbouring tribes on hearing the sound of the
cannon hasten to pay their respects to the Sultan; they crowd pell
mell into his tent, rush upon Abd-el-Kader, who is seated on his sofa,
and kiss his hand, the hood formed by the folds of his haick, and the
skirts of his bernouse; in return he makes the motion of kissing their
hands.
On this occasion very few of the neighbouring Arabs came to salute
him, as most of them were allied with the French; and in the evening
only a little kuskussu was brought to feed his troops.
In the middle of the night the drums beat a _reveille_, everybody
jumped up, and the report was spread that Ibrahim, Bey of Mostaganem,
had made a sortie with his troops, and was about to attack
Abd-el-Kader. The Sultan left the camp at the head of all his cavalry
to reconnoitre the movements of the Bey. I lay down behind a package,
very indifferent to all the confusion and excitement which prevailed
in the camp, and slept soundly while poor Meurice vainly sought for
me in all directions, and at last, fancying I had made my escape,
was in perfect despair, and wandered about mentally accusing me of
unkindness, until I awoke and put an end to his distress.
Abd-el-Kader returned to the camp at daybreak, without having fallen
in with Ibrahim, and brought back the news that the French troops had
left Oran four days before. As he was by no means reassured as to
the Bey’s movements, he ordered the camp to be raised, and by eleven
o’clock the same morning we were back again within five minutes’ walk
of El-Kaala.
The inhabitants of the town, whose resources were already exhausted by
the support of his troops, were so ill-pleased at the Sultan’s return
that none of them came to pay their respects to him, and the Turks
living in the town fled into the mountains carrying with them all
their money. As soon as the Sultan became aware of their disaffection,
he repaired to Kaala with fifty horsemen, and soon returned with a
cargo of carpets and other articles which had been taken by main force
from the most refractory of the citizens, who now fired a salute to
testify the joy they felt at the Sultan’s presence, while their goods
were being distributed before Abd-el-Kader’s tent.