Departure from Mascara—Striking scene—Milianah—Moussa
the renegade—His letter—The Rhamadan—Delays—The Bey of
Milianah—Setting out for Algiers—The Bey’s daughters—First
sight of Algiers—Fresh delays and disappointments—The Hakem’s
hospitality—Arrival at Algiers—Benedicto—The Arab prisoners at
Marseilles.
The next day the Kait of Mascara announced to us that we were soon to
proceed to Algiers, and that he had received orders from Abd-el-Kader
to clothe us, which he accordingly did. The following morning we
started amid the threats and insults of the women, children, and
inhabitants of the town, and took Benedicto with us by force. The Kait
had the cruelty to send Mardulin out of the way, so that we could not
press the hand of one who had been our benefactor during our stay at
Mascara.
We had scarce left the town when the Kait ordered a halt and counted
us over three several times: we were twelve Christian prisoners and
three deserters: four of the prisoners were compelled to walk for want
of mules, but were to ride by turns with the others. Together with
several Jews and Arabs who had joined our caravan, we formed a body
of forty, conducted by a Kait from the neighbourhood of Mascara, and
guarded by one of Abd-el-Kader’s horsemen. The Kait then left us after
having enjoined upon the chief of the escort to treat us well.
Soon after mid-day we saw the village of El-Borgj, but we made a
detour to avoid it, as it was market day, and the Kait feared we might
fall victims to the hatred and fury of the assembled Arabs: as it was,
the women and children came running towards us, and loaded us with
threats and abuse. Towards night, after travelling over various hills,
rocks and brushwood, through a savage and uncultivated country, we
reached a little village at a few leagues from the falls of the Ouet
Mina. The situation of this village at the foot of a mountain near
several streams is delicious; rhododendrons, poplars, almond, fig,
peach, and apricot trees, cover the whole plain, and the gardens are
kept fresh and green by a plentiful supply of water.
After some delay we were ushered into a sort of stable, and when the
marabout had recited a prayer some excellent kuskussu was brought to
us. We passed a bad night owing to the smoke. On the following day,
in about four hours, we reached the village of a tribe on the banks
of the Ouet Mina, where we procured some food: we then continued our
journey towards the Schellif, avoiding the mountains inhabited by the
Beni-Flitas who had shaken off Abd-el-Kader’s authority. After several
days’ forced march over a rough country, the tired mules stumbling at
every step and the men on foot suffering acutely, we reached a small
village governed by an Aga of the plain of Milianah: we entered a
large house in the public square, the inside of which was one vast
hall, evidently intended for the reception of travellers.
At one end mats were spread on the ground for our accommodation, at
the other several Arabs sitting cross-legged on rich carpets were
preparing coffee. Presently the slaves brought in some splendid
cushions and a handsome divan, more magnificent than those belonging
to Abd-el-Kader. The Aga, sumptuously dressed, entered, accompanied by
our Kait, the young marabout, and several chiefs, and they began to
drink coffee and smoke long pipes.
I went towards him and said that I was ill, and also a woman who was
with us, and begged him to give us some coffee; upon which he not only
ordered his slaves to bring us two cups, but sent Madame Laurent and
Benedicto to his wife, who treated them with the utmost kindness.
The hall which we occupied presented a most picturesque and striking
scene. In one corner were the Christian prisoners sitting round a
large fire, talking over their miseries and their sufferings, their
livid faces plainly telling the torments they had endured: many were
occupied in dressing their wounds and sores; occasionally plaintive
murmurs and confused groans were audible from among them. A few paces
from us, on gorgeous silken cushions, the Arabs reclined in a circle
round the Aga, who looked like a Sultan in his splendid dress: these
were drinking coffee and smoking. The flickering light made their
pale faces look fiercer and wilder than usual. They were discussing
the projects of Abd-el-Kader, and occasionally, when the conversation
turned upon the Christians, their eyes flashed, rage deformed their
countenances, and one might fancy that one saw before one some of
those nomade tribes who in former ages overran Christian Europe,
defiling the churches and monasteries by planting the crescent on
their steeples and towers.
At the hour of prayer the young marabout rose and recited it: the
Arabs listened with deep devotion; and from my corner I gazed upon
the strange and imposing scene. We then had some kuskussu and half a
roasted sheep.
This delicious repast and a good night’s rest greatly restored our
exhausted frames, and we quitted with regret a village at which we had
been so hospitably treated. Next day we reached Milianah. We received
the usual treatment from the Arab populace, but were at length safely
lodged in the house in which the Bey delivers judgment. The house
consisted of three small rooms on the ground floor: in one of these
the slaves prepared the Bey’s coffee; the second served as a prison
for those Arabs who had taken arms for the French, some of whom
were in irons, and others confined in circular blocks of wood which
prevented them even from rising; the third room, which was dark, cold,
and damp, was our prison. Our food was bad, and we suffered much from
the exposure to damp and cold. Bourgeois, who until now had been in
good health, fell ill, and our days were passed in rubbing him. The
long journey too had irritated the wound of M. Pic’s servant, which
began to be most offensive.
We had been assured that we should start for Algiers after three days’
stay at Milianah, and this had kept us from giving way to despondency.
But when the time fixed for our departure went by, the future appeared
to us in the most gloomy colours, despair seized upon our minds, and
disease and misery wasted our bodies.
The Kait affected not to understand Abd-el-Kader’s directions, and
ordered me to write to Algiers to announce the death of Meurice and
Berthoumiau, and that two other Christian prisoners would be liberated
in their stead. These delays drove us to despair, and we looked
forward with impatience to the arrival of the Bey of Milianah, who
might perhaps hasten our deliverance: but, he never came.
In the midst of these torments we one day received the visit of a
deserter, whose life and position among the Arabs are too curious to
be passed over.
I had seen this man before, but have delayed until now to mention him,
in order to present this episode as a whole. While Abd-el-Kader was
encamped on the borders of the Ouet Mina, a handsome man, dressed in
the uniform of the Spahis, and without a bernouse, passed our tent,
making his horse prance. The Arabs pointed him out to us, saying, “He
is a Christian.”
Shortly afterwards a negro came and told us that Moussa, the
Christian, desired to speak with us. As we did not wish to have any
dealings with deserters we told the negro that if Moussa wished to
speak with us he must come here, as we were not free to go where we
liked.
Scarce had the negro left us, when a tall man with a long flowing
beard and an insolent bearing came to us, saying, “I am amazed that
dogs of Christians such as you refuse to come when one so great and
powerful as Moulin sends for you. Has not my fame reached you; and
know you not that your fate is in my hands?” On my assuring him that I
did not know him, he replied, “I am Moulin: four years ago I quitted
the French, and I now command the armies of the Sultan. It is I who
lead them to victory and carry terror and destruction into the ranks
of the Christian dogs. I am he who returns from every battle with the
heads of four Frenchmen whom I have killed with my own hand hanging at
my saddle-bow.”
“My dear Sir,” replied I, “you must imagine, to judge by your style
of conversation, that you are talking to idiots.” “What do you say,
you wretch?” “I say that our soldiers still believe in the existence
of Moulin whose name even now inspires them with terror, for after an
infamous desertion he was distinguished for courage. But he has been
dead for years, and we do not believe in ghosts.”
“I tell you, dog of a Christian, that I am Moulin; I have taken the
name of Moussa since I have become one of the faithful, and my power
and authority know no bounds. I am now going to the tent of my friend
Abd-el-Kader to determine your fate.”
While this conversation was going on my poor friend Meurice, who was
then alive, told me that he had attentively observed the deserter’s
features, and that they were familiar to him at Paris. He begged me
next time he came to turn the conversation to Paris, in order that he
might observe the impression this produced.
Next day Moussa presented himself with the same presumptuous
assurance; and after a great deal of vapouring on his part I asked
him if he still persisted in passing for Moulin. “Dog of a Christian,
you are most obstinate. Have not the French soldiers after a battle
related that the Arab battalions were commanded by the terrible
Moulin?” We then began to talk about Paris, in praise of which Moussa
was most eloquent. “Do I know Paris?” cried he; “it is the place
where I was born: and the theatres! I went to them every night, more
especially to the Odeon.”
“The Odeon!” said Meurice, with more heat than I had ever seen him
exhibit. “The Odeon! You are an impostor; you are neither Moulin nor
Moussa, but M——. I know you well. You used to come every evening to
the director’s box at the Odeon: many’s the time you have sat on my
knee as a child, and your sister was then a charming actress. My name,
Sir, is Meurice.”
Moussa was struck dumb at this vehement apostrophe, and Meurice
continued, “I have never seen you since, but I have heard of you;
you grew up a good-for-nothing fellow, and entered first the cavalry
and then the infantry: in each your restless temper drew upon you
the reprimands of your superiors; till at length you engaged in the
_Bataillon d’Afrique_, and then in the Spahis, whose uniform you still
wear. I heard of your desertion in the prisons of Mascara. You may
call yourself Moussa, but your name before your infamous apostacy was
the one I pronounced: I do not repeat it out of regard to your family.”
“I can deny nothing, Sir,” said Moussa, with despair painted in his
face. “I am miserable; but believe me that it was only the vexations I
endured which determined me to desert. I long resisted the unfortunate
idea, but I could not bend to injustice; and if I have done amiss I
now expiate my faults most cruelly.”
We talked in this strain for some time, and Moussa appeared truly
penitent, insomuch that we forgot his crimes and his impudence in our
interest in his regrets and sufferings. From this time forward I
did not see him again, as Abd-el-Kader presented him with a horse, a
sabre, and a rifle, and sent him to the Hadjutes, among whom he had
lived since his desertion.
One day during my captivity at Mascara, Moussa came to visit me.
I felt some pleasure at seeing him, and told him how miserable we
were. He promised to do everything in his power, telling me that
he commanded the cavalry of the Hadjutes, and that he was then on
his way to Abd-el-Kader, whom he would press on the subject of our
exchange. He added that he had saved some money, and hoped to escape
to the coast of Spain. Meanwhile he sent me some bread and a shirt,
which I accepted, as I imagined that he was still repentant. It so
happened that during his absence a Hadjute had told me that he himself
had, in the affair of the 3rd November, cut off the heads of three
French officers of the Spahis, which I must have seen at Mascara.
At this moment Moussa came to take leave of us, saying he had been
able to do but little for us, but that on his return he would give us
everything we could desire, as Abd-el-Kader would pay him handsomely
for the three French officers whom he had killed, and whose heads he
had sent him, adding that we should hear of him at Algiers, as he had
written his name with the point of his sword on the back of one of the
officers whose head he had cut off.
We could not restrain our indignation on hearing this wretch
invent lie after lie, and boast of the mischief he had done to our
countrymen. After loading him with opprobrious epithets, we called
back the Hadjute, and told him that Moussa boasted of having cut off
those very heads which he, the Hadjute, claimed as his prize. “What!”
exclaimed the Hadjute; “you say you have cut off the heads of the
three officers? Moussa, you lie in your throat. _You_ cut off the
heads of Christians; you are a coward and a braggart. You fled when
we encountered the Christians. You fled, dog that you are, although
before the battle you boasted of your courage and prowess: you are a
thief and a rascal.” Then turning to us, he said—“What! did he say
he was going to the Sultan, to his friend Abd-el-Kader? His friend,
indeed! The Sultan has sent for him, not to load him with favours,
but to call him to account for the horse, the rifle, and the bernouse
which he gave him, and which this fellow sold at Blidah, and then got
drunk with the money.”
“Sooner or later I will have my revenge,” said Moussa, as we forced
him out of our prison. A few minutes afterwards a negro brought me a
letter from Moussa to the following effect:—
“As I do not choose that a dog of a Christian, such as you, should
keep anything that once belonged to so great and powerful a Mussulman
as myself, I herewith command you to return by the bearer the shirt
which I gave you yesterday. I am going to my friend Abd-el-Kader, and
shall do my best to have your head cut off. At any rate, if I arrive
too late to prevent your being exchanged, you will never see your
friends, as I have given orders to have you all seized as soon as you
have passed Buffarik.
“Upon which I give you my word of honour.
“MOUSSA,
“_Commander-in-Chief of the Sultan’s armies_.”
This letter excited the laughter of my companions, and we burnt the
shirt which the rascal demanded in such insolent and haughty terms.
We never saw the rogue again, but heard that the Bey of Milianah had
sent him to Abd-el-Kader, under the guard of two soldiers, charged
with several offences, and with having sold the horse, the bernouse,
and the rifle, which had been given him by the Sultan, who, doubtless,
condemned him to that death he so richly deserved for his various
crimes.
The fast of Rhamadan at length induced the Bey to return to Milianah;
but his presence brought no alleviation to our sufferings. Our jailer
made the fast a pretext for depriving us of our daily allowance of
boiled barley, and giving us nothing but half a barley cake each.
The weather continued bitterly cold, with continual snow and sleet;
and our dungeon was so dark that we were unable even to catch the
vermin that infested it. We at length grew quite desperate, and most
of us felt convinced that the Sultan had sent us to die of cold and
hunger in the prisons of Milianah, and that he had never intended to
release or exchange us. Fleury, Bourgeois, Crescenso, M. Lanternier,
and the German servant, lay on the cold bare earth sick of the fever,
and their groans and delirious ravings sounded most horrible in the
darkness of our dungeon.
One morning a canopy was raised in front of our prison: magnificent
carpets were spread, upon which were laid cushions covered with
gorgeous brocade; and before long the Bey came and seated himself upon
them, in order to distribute the pay to his soldiers. Some slaves
spread a large round skin of morocco leather at his feet, and emptied
several bags of money upon it, after which the soldiers were called up
by name, and each in succession received his pay.
Mahadin-el-Hadj-el-Schir-ben-Moubarek Bey of Milianah, is a man of
about forty. He is taller than Abd-el-Kader; his face is long, his
eyes small, his lips thick, and his beard grizzled. He wore a haick,
and a bernouse of beautiful crimson and azure cloth, embroidered with
silk and gold, and ornamented with gold tassels. A superb yataghan
glittered at his side. His officers, who stood in a row on either side
of him, were all dressed in red vests and trowsers and white bernouses.
When I perceived that the Bey did not cast a single glance upon our
prison, and appeared to have forgotten our very existence, I came
before him, with General Rapatel’s letters in my hand, and represented
to him the misery we endured, and how opposed his cruel treatment of
us was to Abd-el-Kader’s generous intentions. The Bey answered me
with plenty of fine promises: he then departed, and we heard no more
of him. At length a Hadjute came to announce that we were to start
for the place at which the prisoners were to be exchanged, and in
less than half an hour the list of names of those selected to leave
Milianah that very day was brought to us. It included Madame Laurent,
M. Lanternier, Crescenso, Francesco, Benedicto, and myself.
The weather was terrible; a thick snow was continually falling.
M. Lanternier was so ill that he was unable even to stand, and
must infallibly have dropped dead from his mule in a few hours.
We therefore resolved to leave him, and to take M. Pic’s German
servant instead, who, though exceedingly ill from the effects of his
wound, was able to sit upon his mule. We started amid the groans and
lamentations of our fellow-prisoners, and the frantic complaints of
Lanternier.
A few days after our departure M. Lanternier sunk under his illness,
and was buried outside the gates of Milianah.
We stopped before the palace of the Bey, who was sitting in the
court. He called me to him, and desired me to press General Rapatel to
hasten the exchange of the other prisoners at the rate of three Arabs
for every Christian. “If,” said he, “these terms are complied with, I
will leave your outposts alone for a time; if not, my Hadjutes and I
will not suffer them to rest in peace a single day.”
Madame Laurent and Benedicto were waiting for us before the Bey’s
palace: their condition had been very different from ours. They told
us that the Bey had two charming daughters, whose kindness was equal
to their beauty, and who had never ceased from paying them every sort
of attention. At Madame Laurent’s request these amiable girls had
frequently sent us provisions, but the slaves who were ordered to take
them to us had eaten them themselves. We all mounted our mules except
Crescenso, who was obliged to follow on foot, and we quitted the town
amidst the jeers and yells of the populace, who shouted after us
“There go the Christian dogs.”
At length we were on our way towards home: the day of our release
drew near; but this moment to which we had looked forward with so
much impatience failed to excite in us the joy we had expected to
feel. Sickness and misery had so completely exhausted our strength
and spirits, that we could think of nothing but the sufferings and
fatigue of the present moment. We travelled the whole of the day over
mountains covered with ilexes, gum trees, and cypresses; the roads
were detestable, and it never ceased from snowing. We made no halt
until evening, when we arrived at a tribe in the mountains to the west
of the plain of the Metidja. The Commander of our escort, one of the
officers of the Bey of Milianah, conducted us to a mud hovel. A large
fire was lighted, at which we dried our clothes, which were completely
wetted by the snow. The Arabs of the surrounding tribes crowded to
look at us, and to torment us with blows and abuse. They forced little
Benedicto to repeat the Mahomedan prayer to every new comer, and
the poor child had to say it at least two hundred times that night:
they then commanded us to do the same, and beat us violently when we
refused.
The poor German, whose wound was gangrened, suffered most from the
inhumanity of these people who kicked and struck him on his wound.
We dared not remonstrate against the wanton cruelty of these
Arabs, who would have been too glad of a pretext to kill us all on
the spot. After torturing us for about four hours they left us,
and some detestable kuskussu was brought for our supper. I asked
for some butter and honey to dress the poor German’s wounds, but
it was refused. We lay down and endeavoured to sleep, but found it
impossible; and Francesco and I lay concerting plans of revenge upon
the Arab prisoners at Marseilles, and lamenting the hard fate of the
companions we had lost.
We left this inhospitable tribe before daybreak without breakfasting,
on account of the Rhamadan. By eleven o’clock we had reached the plain
of the Metidja, and our guide pointed out to us on the horizon the
position of Algiers. This sight inspired me with fresh courage. I gave
up my mule to Crescenso, who was weary with walking, and my haick to
Francesco.
The plain of the Metidja was covered with water; in many places it was
up to our knees. My slippers were in a very bad state, and I soon left
them sticking in the mud, and had to continue my journey barefooted.
After a march of two hours we arrived at Blidah; our leader made us
halt at the gates of the town, while he went to fetch the Hakem, a
governor appointed by the French. But the Hakem was gone to Buffarik,
to see whether the Arab prisoners who were to be exchanged for us had
arrived, and the inhabitants of the town not only refused to allow
us to enter it, but drove us away with blows and abuse; and the Kait
of the Hadjutes sent us to the tribe of the Beni-Messaous, half way
up the Atlas, where we remained two days exposed to every sort of
ill-treatment.
At the end of that time we were brought back to Blidah in perfect
despair; we found that the Hakem had returned from Buffarik, and he
received us with great hospitality. Madame Laurent and Benedicto were
lodged with the Hakem’s wives; the other prisoners remained in the
room in which we had been received at first, and the Hakem sent a
chaous to invite me to sup with him. The cookery was very different
from that in Abd-el-Kader’s camp, and for the first time I discovered
that many of the Arab dishes, when well prepared, are excellent.
After supper the Hakem retired, leaving the Kait of the Hadjutes and
myself to sleep in the room where we had supped. I rolled myself in
a rug and was fast asleep in a moment, but I was presently awakened
by the Kait, who came and seated himself by my side, and tried to
persuade me to desert my country and to remain with him. He offered me
the usual inducements of fine horses, beautiful women, rich clothes,
and splendid arms, and above all, plenty of powder. I was too tired to
answer him anything but “Good night: do let me sleep.”
At eight o’clock next morning the Hakem came in and asked me whether I
was satisfied with his reception. On my answering in the affirmative,
he eagerly pressed me to persuade the Governor to raise his salary.
Three mules were prepared for Madame Laurent, the German, and
Francesco, with Benedicto behind him: Crescenso and I followed on
foot. This last journey was as fatiguing and painful as any previous
one; it rained the whole day, and Benedicto cried with cold. As for
us, the outposts of Buffarik were before us, and we felt nothing but
joy.
I will not attempt to describe the reception I met with from my
brother officers, nor my subsequent illness, nor how delightful it was
to be nursed by my countrymen. Francesco, Madame Laurent, the German,
and Crescenso were sent to the hospital at Algiers, where they lay
ill for some time. The other prisoners were soon released, except
the wife and daughter of M. Lanternier, and the two German women who
are still in the possession of the Emperor of Morocco. I obtained
Mardulin’s pardon, and contrived to communicate it to him: he escaped
from Mascara with some orange merchants of Blidah, and is now enrolled
among the Spahis.
As I was on the point of embarking for France I heard myself greeted
on the quay, and on turning round I saw Benedicto dressed in a new
suit of clothes. “Where are you going, Benedicto?” said I. “To my
mother Maria, who has sent me these fine clothes; I am going on board
with Francesco and Crescenso to sail to Genoa, where she is waiting
for me.”
* * * * *
On arriving at Marseilles, I hastened to visit the Arab prisoners,
with the full intention of repaying them some of the cruelty I had
endured from their countrymen. I however confined my revenge to
inviting two of them to dinner: one, who was a marabout, would not
eat, because of the Rhamadan; but the other ate and drank wine and
brandy like any Christian. He pressed me to return to his country,
where he promised to give me quantities of horses and sheep, to
receive me into his tent as his guest, and to watch over me while
I slept. After dinner I took him to the theatre, and ended by
conducting him home to his barracks and helping him to bed, for he had
transgressed the law of the Prophet, and was drunk.
THE END.
London: Printed by W. Clowes and Sons, Duke Street, Stamford Street.
Transcriber’s Notes:
- Text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_).
- Blank pages have been removed.
- Silently corrected typographical errors.
- Spelling and hyphenation variations made consistent.