Offers of exchange—Report of the death of the King of
France—Festivities—Sham fight—Two French soldiers—M.
Lanternier—Meurice gets worse—Baths at Mascara—Lanternier’s
prison—His wife and daughter sent to the Emperor of Morocco—Little
Benedicto.
One evening at sunset, when Meurice and I returned to our tent, after
spending the day in a garden near the camp, Ben Faka told me that
the Sultan desired to see me. I went to his tent, where he gave me
two letters, one for Meurice and the other from General Rapatel for
myself. I opened the latter, and informed the Sultan of its contents,
which were to this effect: General Rapatel offered Abd-el-Kader the
choice of ten Arab prisoners, in exchange for the six Frenchmen and
Italians, and ten others in exchange for Mahomed Ben Hussein, the
ex-Bey of Medeah; adding, that the European prisoners might be sent
at once to some French town, and that Abd-el-Kader should receive
the Arabs in exchange for them immediately upon their return from
Marseilles.
At this sentence Abd-el-Kader smiled, and said “You shall go as soon
as my Arabs arrive at the camp.”
The Bey of Medeah, who was our ally, had been taken prisoner by the
Bey of Milianah, loaded with chains, and thrown into the dungeons of
Ouchda, a town on the frontier of Morocco, where he still languishes,
exposed to the most cruel treatment, and in constant danger of being
starved to death by his inhuman gaolers.
After consulting the marabouts who surrounded him, Abd-el-Kader
ordered me to write word, that he demanded twenty prisoners in
exchange for the six Europeans, and that he would give up the Bey of
Medeah in exchange for all the prisoners at Marseilles. I remonstrated
with him on the unreasonableness of his terms, and suggested that he
should split the difference, and take fifteen Arabs as ransom for
us. To this he agreed, and I wrote to the General and to my family.
As I was sealing the letters, Abd-el-Kader said, that he hoped I had
written all that I wished to say; and that I should not be deterred
by fear of his displeasure from writing anything that I saw, or from
expressing any opinion upon his manner of treating his prisoners;
“For,” said he, “a Sultan so great and holy as I fears no one upon
earth.”
I hastened to take Meurice his wife’s letter, and to inform him of the
favourable dispositions of Abd-el-Kader; and I had the satisfaction
of seeing him fall asleep with a smile on his face. I crept close to
him to warm his frozen limbs; but the night was so cold, that in the
morning when we wanted to rise Meurice’s legs were benumbed, and he
was forced to lie upon the ground. All his blood had rushed to his
head, which caused him the most violent pain. At about eleven o’clock
I carried him out into the sunshine, in hopes that the warmth might do
him good.
On the 28th of October Abd-el-Kader received a letter from Morocco,
announcing the death of the King of France. I believe that the Emperor
of Morocco meant Charles X., but Abd-el-Kader thought it was Louis
Philippe, and immediately spread a report that the King of the French
had been assassinated, that a civil war had broken out in France, and
that all the troops stationed at Algiers were about to be recalled.
This news excited universal joy; the troops prepared to celebrate
the retreat of the French in a manner worthy of the greatness of the
occasion, and three whole days were spent in festivities, both at
Mascara and in the camp. These consisted chiefly in sham fights, in
which the first division of cavalry, dressed in bluejackets and red
trowsers, and without haicks or bernouses, represented the French, and
were headed by Abd-el-Kader; the second, with their flowing haicks
and bernouses, were the Arabs. The two troops were drawn up at a
considerable distance from each other.
Abd-el-Kader first detached ten of his French corps as skirmishers,
who were met by the same number of the opposite party. The assailants
on both sides started at a foot’s pace, and by degrees urged on their
horses to a gallop. When they were within five-and-twenty paces of
each other, they shouted “Ah! ah! ah!” fired off their rifles, waved
their haicks and bernouses, drew their sabres, and acted a fight hand
to hand. Ten more horsemen were then detached from each troop, and
galloped into the midst of the mêlée, whereupon the first two bands
retreated to their respective posts, while the others continued the
fight. Sometimes the forty horsemen kept up the struggle, until the
arrival of fresh auxiliaries on one side turned the chances against
the other, who then retreated at full gallop, brandishing their
sabres, firing off their rifles, and uttering loud cries. Then a
pursuit was acted, till both parties had galloped enough, and returned
to their stations. At one moment the confusion became excessive; the
mêlée was thick and violent, bernouses fluttered, sabres flashed, and
a cloud of dust concealed the combatants, whose fierce wild shouts
rung in our ears. Suddenly the drums on both sides beat the recall,
and the chiefs restored order; the horsemen gave a few moments of
rest to their horses, and then the racing and struggling, the strange
evolutions and single combats began again with as much vehemence as
ever.
This military spectacle invariably terminates with the defeat of
the French. When Abd-el-Kader thinks it time to put an end to the
exercises, he plunges into the thick of the mêlée; two Arabs then
seize his horse by the bridle, one on each side, and lead the Sultan
away captive to his tent, amid shouts of triumph and enthusiasm.
Abd-el-Kader, casting around him proud glances on his followers wrapt
in admiration of his warlike grace, makes his horse prance and rear
till it stands upright, while the Sultan smiles complacently, as much
as to say “Am not I a horseman indeed?”
“And so you are, my fine Sultan,” said I to myself; “but you would not
be quite so cock-a-hoop on an English saddle, for all that.”
On the third and last day of this warlike exhibition Ben Faka came
to me with a swaggering air and said, “There has been a battle at
Tlemsen; the Kalifah has beaten the French, and taken a great number
of prisoners, whom he is going to send to the Sultan, so you will soon
have plenty of companions.”
“I believe,” said I, “that you are as much deceived now as you were
when you told me that Ahmed Bey had taken Bona.”
Meanwhile, poor Meurice got worse every day, and I spent most of my
time in rubbing his aching limbs, and in endeavouring to warm his
frozen legs and feet against my breast, and to relieve the burning
pain in his head, by wetting my hands, and then laying them on his
forehead. I was thus occupied when Ben Faka returned to the tent, and
said to me with an insulting laugh, “Come and look at the Christian
prisoners whom the Kalifah took at Tlemsen, and has sent to the
Sultan.”
I left the tent without answering Ben Faka, and saw two unfortunate
soldiers, half naked, barefooted, and in a state of indescribable
wretchedness, whom the chaous were driving along with their sticks,
just as a butcher goads the tired beasts to the slaughter-house. They
halted before the Sultan’s tent, and I attempted to approach, in order
to question them, but was immediately driven away by the chaous.
I went back to Meurice, and was telling him what had passed when
Ben Faka brought the two new prisoners into our tent, and gave each
of them a haick. I beckoned them to draw near, and asked them their
names, the regiments to which they belonged, and where they came from.
“My name is Bourgeois,” replied the first; “I am an old soldier in the
eleventh, and my comrade Fleury is an ex-soldier of the sixty-sixth;
we both belong to the battalion at Tlemsen.”
“Has there been a fight there then?” said I.
“None whatever, Sir. I will tell you how it was. The Bedouins had
pressed hard upon the town for some time, and no provisions could be
brought to market, and so you see the garrison was put upon short
commons. One’s appetite grows with eating, they say; but I assure you
it grows much faster with an empty stomach; and one morning, when
Fleury and I were more sharp set than usual, we bethought ourselves
that we would go and forage like the Bedouins. There were plenty of
fruit trees outside the town, and so, without more ado, we went out
to make a meal off them. After eating our fill, we were going back to
the town again; but we had reckoned without our host. The Bedouins
caught us like larks in a snare; and not content with having taken
us prisoners, they have given us the strappado the whole way. They
say, to be sure, that Abd-el-Kader has given orders to take as many
prisoners as possible, and not to cut their heads off, and I suppose
that is the only reason why ours are still upon our shoulders; but
they have treated us brutally. However, now that we are come to
Abd-el-Kader’s royal palace, as you may say, I hope we shall not be
quite so ill-used. But, Lieutenant, if you write to the Governor
please don’t forget just to speak a word for Bourgeois and Fleury, for
these quarters are not at all to our liking.”
I assured my fellow-sufferers that I would not forget them; and that
very evening, with Abd-el-Kader’s permission, I wrote to inform
General Rapatel of their arrival, and to ask for six Arab prisoners in
exchange for them.
Our new companions fully sympathised in my anxiety about Meurice’s
health, and forgot their own sufferings to assist me in nursing him.
On the next morning Ben Faka, in the same conceited and scornful tone
in which he had announced the arrival of the prisoners from Tlemsen,
informed me that another prisoner was being brought before the Sultan.
We went outside the tent, where we saw a French prisoner led past us.
He was about fifty years of age; a long beard and thick moustache of
a light colour hung dirty and matted over his naked breast; a ragged
shirt covered his shoulders, which, with a pair of soldiers trowser’s
full of holes, and a grey hat all crushed and battered, completed
his costume. The blood which dropped from the wounds on his feet and
legs marked his path. A noisy and cruel escort of children, which
had followed him from the outskirts of the town, never ceased from
tormenting him with blows, or with throwing stones: clotted black
gore dropped from several deep cuts in his head. I endeavoured to get
near him, for Meurice, whom we had brought out in front of the tent,
had recognised M. Lanternier, but the chaous drove me back with their
sticks, and the prisoner was hurried past us, and dragged before
Abd-el-Kader, amid the acclamations of the crowd.
At the sight of this unhappy man Abd-el-Kader was touched with pity,
and ordered Ben Faka to give him a haick and a pair of slippers,
and to conduct him to our tent. But the chaous who had escorted him
exclaimed, that the Christian dog had refused to obey their orders,
and that he ought therefore to be sent to prison. In vain did the
unhappy man implore Abd-el-Kader’s mercy, and lament his separation
from his wife and daughter in the most heart-rending words.
Abd-el-Kader, unmoved by his anguish, commanded the chaous to take
him to the prison at Mascara, but to keep him separate from the Arab
prisoners, who might otherwise ill-use him.
The unfortunate man was about to renew his entreaties for mercy, but
his mouth was stopped by a blow. He passed before our tent, but we
were not allowed to address to him a single word of consolation. As
he passed us his eyes filled with tears, and anguish and despair were
painted in his countenance. He slackened his pace for a moment to look
at us; but the chaous beat him, and the children attacked him with
abuse and with stones, one of which made a deep wound in his head—the
blood gushed forth in a torrent, and the poor victim staggered; but
his pitiless tormentors drove him on before them. I withdrew into the
tent to hide my tears, and was soon followed by the other prisoners:
we all wept together.
Meurice’s state became more alarming every day. Bourgeois and Fleury
chafed his limbs, and laid rags soaked in cold water upon his burning
temples, whilst I went to the tent of Ben Faka’s coffee-maker, where I
heated his slippers and some of his rags, which I placed upon his legs
and feet while still hot. With inconceivable difficulty we made him
some barley-water, but he drank it with disgust, because it was not
sweetened. He wished to go to Mascara, to take a vapour bath, which he
fancied would cure him; and I accordingly obtained an interview with
Abd-el-Kader, and asked his permission to allow me to accompany him
thither, which he granted for the next day. I then asked him for some
sugar for Meurice, which he immediately ordered Ben Faka to give me.
Next morning Abd-el-Kader lent us one of his baggage mules and a negro
called Hassan, to take Meurice to Mascara. I led the mule by the
bridle, and Hassan got up behind the sick man, and supported him in
his arms. We were also accompanied by the army surgeon, called Tussis,
who had studied medicine at Tunis, though not to much purpose, for he
was extremely ignorant.
I went into the bath with Meurice, and undressed him, for he was
unable to move. I had intended to take a bath myself, but the dirt
and stench of the place made it impossible to me. I then went to the
Kait of Mascara, and asked leave to see M. Lanternier, which the Kait
refused. On hearing my disappointment, Hassan told me that he would go
and find out his prison, and conduct me to it. I returned to Meurice
in the meantime, and found him in a state of perfect despair, as the
Arabs had refused to shampoo him, for fear of defiling themselves by
touching a Christian. Fortunately Jean Mardulin, a French deserter,
came to his assistance, and shampooed him as well as he was able:
he then dressed him, and wrapped him in two or three rugs, which
the Sultan had given him for the purpose. Meanwhile I went to fetch
Tussis, who was to bleed the sick man; but Tussis referred me to a
barber, who spoke pretty good Spanish. When I had explained to him
what I wanted, he took his basin and razor, a glass, fire, and paper,
and followed us to the baths. He first shaved the back of Meurice’s
head, made several incisions in it with the razor, and then covered it
with a glass, under which he placed several pieces of lighted paper.
The blood flowed freely, and Meurice found himself somewhat relieved.
Tussis watched his proceedings with great attention, and seemed to
me to be taking a lesson in practical surgery, whilst he affected to
consider the operation of too little importance for the exercise of
his own skill.
We were now ordered to leave the bath, as the time appropriated to the
women was come. Mardulin and I wrapped Meurice in the rugs from head
to foot, and carried him to the hospital, where we left him to sleep
till it was time to return to the camp. I had been very hot in the
bath, and on leaving it I felt a chill. As soon as Meurice was asleep
I went out into the public square, and laid myself upon the ground in
the sun. Before long I saw Hassan, who beckoned to me mysteriously to
follow him. We crossed the square, and stopped before a house, the
door of which was open. “That,” said he, “is Lanternier’s prison; but
take care you are not caught, or you will be beaten.”
I have already said, that the door of the house was open; within it
was an iron grating. At the distance of about two feet (_i. e._ the
thickness of the wall) was another door, with a second iron grating,
within which were crowded the Arab prisoners with no air or light but
what the grating admitted. Between the two gratings, like a wild beast
in a cage, was Lanternier, crouching on the ground, covered with
rags, pale and emaciated. The dirt and disorder in his person, and the
expression of stupid despondency in his countenance, showed what he
must have endured. His eyes glared with a sort of feverish brightness.
I drew near, and told him who I was. He described to me his
misfortunes, the sufferings of his wife and daughter, the ill-usage he
had received from the chaous. He said that his prison was horrible;
that it was only cleaned once a week; and that at night, when the
outer door was shut, he was almost suffocated by the stench of the
inner room, from which he was only separated by the grating; that
he received no food but a bit of barley cake in the morning, and a
handful of boiled barley at night; and that he must have died of
hunger, but for the kindness of Mardulin, who brought him a bit of
white bread and some snuff every morning. He implored me to intercede
for him with Abd-el-Kader, that he might be allowed to go to the camp
to the other Christian prisoners.
The sentinel now began to look at me suspiciously, and I departed,
overwhelmed with grief. My mental sufferings, combined with the chill
which had seized me on coming out of the bath made me ill, and I
followed the mule, on which Hassan had placed Meurice, with tottering
steps. When I awoke next morning, I was as ill as Meurice; my legs
were frozen, my head ached violently, and I was unable to stand.
Bourgeois was indefatigable in rendering every assistance in his power
to both of us.
On the 2nd of November some Arabs brought from Mascara three of the
frames upon which are stretched the haicks which hide the Moorish
women when they travel in panniers on the backs of mules. We heard
that these were intended to conceal Lanternier’s wife and daughter and
the two German women, whom Abd-el-Kader was going to send as a present
to Muley Abd-el-Rachman, Emperor of Morocco. These three frames were
each balanced by chests, destined to contain five wild beasts, which,
together with the women, some ostriches, and some carpets, constituted
the Sultan’s present to the Emperor.
One morning, when Abd-el-Kader returned from his wife’s tent, which he
visited every night, he brought back with him Benedicto, the little
Italian sailor-boy, who had been living among the women for several
months. The poor child was very beautiful, and remarkably intelligent.
The Arab women had been very kind to him, in spite of which he had
been left without any other covering than the shirt he wore when taken
prisoner. He had entirely forgotten his mother and his country, and
already spoke Arabic better than Italian. When we asked him where his
mother was, he pointed to the women’s tents; if we enquired what was
his religion, he said he was a Mahomedan; he recited the Mahomedan
prayer perfectly; and the Arab soldiers, who petted him very much,
often made him repeat it fifteen or twenty times in succession.
I had heard that the Sultan intended to remove his camp on the 26th
to the neighbourhood of Tlemsen, I therefore asked leave to speak to
him, and, on obtaining it, was carried into his presence. I again
besought him to send Meurice to Oran, and assured him that if he did
not, the unhappy man would be dead in a week. Abd-el-Kader replied
with his usual smile, “If he is so ill as you say, the journey to
Oran would kill him; but, instead of following my camp, you shall
remain at Mascara, where you shall be lodged in a comfortable house
till you can be exchanged.” He then ordered Ben Faka to give each of
us a haick, and a little vest for the child. I returned to the tent
overwhelmed with grief, and poor Meurice, who had flattered himself
with the hopes of returning to Oran, read the cruel disappointment in
my face, and began to bewail his misfortunes, and to inveigh against
Abd-el-Kader’s barbarity. I tried to comfort him with the prospect of
being sheltered, warmed, and fed at Mascara, and protected against the
brutality of the Arabs; but he answered, “It is all too late!” hid his
head under his haick, and lay on the ground stupified by misery.