The curiously prophetic utterances of Ali Ben Hafiz caused me to
reflect. I knew much of Moslem superstition,--in fact, I had collected
many of the strange beliefs of the Arabs, Moors, and Koulouglis, with
the intention of including them in a book I was writing,--but this
extraordinary _avant-coureur_ of evil was new to me. During the blazing
day, as we toiled on over the sun-baked plain, again and again I
recalled his ominous words. The prophecy made me feel uncomfortable.
Somehow, try how I would, I could not rid myself of the thought that
some untoward event would ere long occur.
In this record of facts I am compelled to speak briefly of myself. Life
had indeed been a strange series of ups and downs. Being left an
orphan, I had early in life imbibed the reckless Bohemianism of the
Quartier Latin, and my later years had been almost equally divided
between the conventionalities of London and Paris and the wild, free
life of the Bedouins of Northern Africa. Truth to tell, civilisation,
with its hollow shams and its _decollete_ and frock-coated _beau monde_,
had no charm for me. The leaden skies of London and the glitter and
artificiality of Paris were alike hateful. I only enjoyed happiness
when, attired in haick and slippers, I sat cross-legged with the people
of Al-Islam, studying their grave, interesting characteristics, and
perfecting my knowledge of that most wonderful of languages, Arabic.
Fettered no longer by the shackles of Society, I wandered, explored, and
studied, the reason of this restlessness being most likely due to the
fact that I had never gazed upon a woman with thoughts of love. The
Bohemianism of the Seine-bank had distorted my views of life, so that I
regarded woman as a heartless coquette, and perhaps had become cynical,
even misanthropic. Therefore, on thinking over old Ali's warning, I
grew at length to regard it as a mere superstition of the mystic Moslem,
and succeeded at last in dismissing it from my mind.
The blazing day wore on, and was succeeded by a glorious evening. We
were in that wild, inhospitable region known as the Adjemor, about
midway between the little Arab settlement of El Biodh and the palms of
Ain-el-Redjem. Away on the misty horizon the rising ground of the great
plateau of Tademait was tinged with orange and gold, but as my fellow
wanderers knelt upon their carpets, cast dust over their feet, and,
salaaming, droned forth passages of the Saba in a monotone, the deep
well of the west was still ablaze with crimson and silver. It was a bad
sign, for the thin haze which hung upon the ground warned us that ere
long we should be overwhelmed by one of the terrors of the desert--the
sandstorm. Its stifling clouds of whirling sand might sweep down upon
us immediately, or might not reach us for twelve or fourteen hours; but
we were all aware that assuredly it must come, therefore, before
throwing ourselves down to rest, we took necessary precautions to ensure
our safety.
Alone in my tent, I lay unable to sleep, for before the sirocco the heat
always becomes unbearable. The dead silence of the wilderness was only
broken by the champing of the camels and the jingle of the single Spahi,
who, mounting guard over us, marched slowly up and down, his footsteps
sounding muffled in the sand. Through the open door of the tent I could
see how clear and bright was the night, how brilliantly the big moon of
the East shone white over the desert, and for a long time I lay thinking
of home and of the strange words of Ali, until sleep at length came to
my aching eyes.
Loud shouting and rifle-shots rapidly exchanged awakened me. For a
moment I was dazed by the weird, exciting scene. White-robed figures on
horseback tearing past my tent were firing their long-barrelled guns,
and our men were repelling the assault vigorously with their
Winchesters.
We were being attacked by a band of marauders; I knew it would be a
fight to the death!
Grasping my revolver, I sprang to my feet and rushed forth. As I did
so, a gigantic Arab barred my passage. The fierce, dark-faced fellow
had just swung himself from his horse, and in his sinewy hand there
gleamed a long curved knife.
In a second we had closed in deadly embrace. Clutching me by the
throat, he forced me backwards, at the same moment uttering a curse and
raising the keen blade above his head. For a second it was poised in
mid air, but quick as thought I managed to wrench away my right hand,
and, bringing it across my breast, fired my revolver full into his dark,
sinister face.
With a cry he staggered. The knife fell, but I evaded it, and,
gradually loosening his hold upon my throat, he stumbled backwards, and,
tottering, sank heavily to the ground.
Leaving him, I rushed out to assist my companions, for the rattle of
musketry was incessant, and bullets were singing about us in a manner
that was particularly disconcerting. Dashing forward, I saw our Spahis
had apparently been taken completely by surprise, four of them having
fallen dead, and two were lying near, writhing under the agony of their
wounds.
The shouting and firing were deafening, the flashing of guns shedding a
lurid glare, while, to add to the horror of those moments, the storm had
burst upon us, choking clouds of sand enveloping both enemy and friend.
Once only, amid the whirling cloud of dust and smoke, I caught sight of
the hospitable old merchant. Two of the robbers had seized him, and
were securing his arms and legs with cords, when suddenly he turned upon
them with the ferocity of a tiger, and, drawing a knife from his crimson
sash, plunged it into the heart of one of his captors.
The man staggered and fell backwards dead, like a stone.
A second later there was a bright flash from a rifle fired by a man near
me, and Ali Ben Hafiz, throwing up his arms with a cry, fell forward
over the corpse of the man he had killed. Just at that moment I felt
myself seized from behind. Turning quickly, intending to use my
revolver, the weapon was snatched from my hand, and a cord with a noose
passed quickly over my head. I fought hard; but how long can one fight
against a score? The flash of the guns illumined for a second the faces
of the fierce bandits into whose power I had unfortunately fallen. All
were big, desperate-looking Bedouins of the tribe of the Ennitra, who
live away south in the Ahaggar region, and whose men, reputed to be the
worst of desperadoes, were the terror of the caravans.
While they forced my hands behind me and secured them, my brave
companions, the Spahis and camel-drivers, after making a most desperate
resistance, were one after another shot down before my eyes. The band
outnumbered us by six to one, and already the camels, with Ali's
valuable packs of textile fabrics, arms and ammunition, had been
captured and driven off.
"Devils!" I cried, as I watched the sickening slaughter. "Why not
complete thine hideous work and shoot me also?"
"Behold! he hath a pale face!" cried one of my captors, peering into my
eyes and showing his white teeth as he grinned viciously. "See! he is
not an Arab! He is a dog of an Infidel!"
"Kill him! kill him!" cried one of the others, excitedly brandishing a
knife. "His touch will contaminate. The Roumi will bring the curse of
Sajin upon us!"
His words and threatening attitude alarmed me, for, remembering that
these men were of the sect of the Aissawa, the wildest of the fanatics
of Al-Islam, I knew they were not likely to show much mercy to one who
had not embraced their religion or gone through their hideous rites.
Whoever Sidi ben Aissa, the patron saint of this strange sect, might
have been, he certainly numbers among his followers some of the worst
malefactors of Algeria. Any Mohammedan may be initiated into the
Aissawa. He makes a pilgrimage to Mequinez, in Morocco, calls upon the
representative of Sidi ben Aissa's family, to whom he offers prayers and
money. This over, the priest blows upon him, and the devotee arises and
departs, firmly believing that however many venomous snakes may bite
him, no harm will befall him.
Although in a frenzy of excitement over their terrible work of
slaughter, they seemed in no mood to kill me. As the sandstorm abated,
and dawn spread, the scene was awful. The whole of our men had, I saw,
been ruthlessly massacred, and I alone remained the sole survivor.
Breathlessly I stood, my arms bound so tightly as to cause me pain,
awaiting my fate. How, I wondered, would it end? Presently, when the
contents of our camels' packs had been cursorily inspected, I was tied
to a mule, and dragged on over the desert in the direction of the rising
sun. Through the long hot day I was forced to trudge wearily onward
into that region of the Ahaggar where no Bedouins dare penetrate.
Jeering, they refused my request for water to moisten my parched throat,
and it was not until long after noon that they tossed me a handful of
dates to satisfy my hunger.
Just before sundown we came upon an oasis where the palms grew high, and
there came out to meet us a dirty, ferocious rabble, shouting,
gesticulating, and rejoicing that the raid had been successful. My
captors were cheered again and again, while I, as an unbeliever, was
cuffed and spat upon. Between two tall bronzed ruffians I was led
straightway among the scattered tents to the Sheikh of the marauders,
whom I afterwards learned was Hadj Absalam, the notorious outlaw upon
whose head a price had long been set by the French Government.
He was a sinister-looking old man, with a pair of black, gleaming eyes,
a long grey beard, and an ugly cicatrix across his tawny forehead. As
his name denoted, he had made the pilgrimage earlier in life, but the
criminal was stamped in every line of his face, and I could quite
believe him capable of the many barbarous cruelties attributed to him.
The marauders explained how they had attacked and captured our caravan,
and, finding that I was an Englishman, they had spared my life and
brought me to him.
The robber Sheikh of the Ennitra heard all without removing his long
pipe from his lips or betraying the least excitement. Suddenly turning
his piercing eyes upon me, he exclaimed--
"Thou art an unbeliever that Allah hath delivered into our hands for
punishment. Verily, Allah hath cursed the Infidels, and hath prepared
for them in Al-Hawiyat a fierce fire wherein they shall remain for ever.
They shall find no patron or defender. Death by the knife is too
merciful an end for dogs of thy mongrel breed."
"But, my father," I exclaimed, "I have not offended against thee. I am
merely journeying here to study thy tongue."
"Silence, Infidel!" he roared. "Speak not to Allah's chosen. Thine
accursed body shall be racked by the torture ere thou goest unto the
Kingdom of Shades."
Then, turning to the men who held me, he said, "Take him out among the
rocks and let the punishment commence."
Heedless of my vigorous protests, I was hurried along, followed by the
ragged crowd of excited fanatics, who still jeered and spat upon me,
until we reached the edge of the oasis, which, as I afterwards learned,
was named the Igharghar. It was die game, or die coward. I remembered
the strange Omen of the Camel's Hoof!
At a spot where great grey rocks cropped out of the sand, my captors
halted, and, forcing me to the ground, lashed me to the trunk of a date
palm. The rope was passed under my arms and fastened to the base of the
trunk, leaving about four feet of slack rope between my head and the
tree. Then, my feet being bound, they drove a stake into the ground and
tied them to it. Thus I lay stretched upon the ground, and, struggle as
I would, I was unable to move. The cords sank into my flesh, and the
crowd around me laughed and shouted when they saw my face distorted by
pain.
I knew no mercy would be shown me by Hadj Absalam's band, who delighted
in cruelty to their victims, and whose religious rites were practised
amid scenes of horror and bloodshed. Yet if they meant to simply leave
me there to starve and die under the blazing sun, why did they secure me
in this fashion? They could have maimed my feet and hands, and there
would have been no need of this elaborate preparation.
A sudden shout caused me to try and look up. Several men were running
towards me, their white burnouses flowing behind them. One of them
carried in his hand a little stick with a noose on the end, and in the
noose there writhed a large black asp, one of the deadly denizens of the
rocks.
The sight froze my blood. I knew that they meant to kill me.
Amid the wild excitement of the crowd, who had now gone half mad at the
prospect of seeing an Infidel done to death, two long thin thongs of
mule-skin were placed through the skin and muscles of the snake, close
to its tail. The serpent squirmed under the pain, but his head was held
fast in the loop.
Within four feet of my face another stake was driven into the ground,
and to this the loose ends of the thongs were fastened. The Arabs
sprang back. The snake was free from the noose, but bound fast by the
thong through its tail.
My face was directly before it; yet I could not move! In an instant the
snake was in a half coil, with its bead-like eyes fixed upon mine.
As I held my breath in that brief second, the warning of Ali Ben Hafiz
again flashed through my mind. The sweat stood upon my brow. The crowd
pressing around me became hushed in expectancy. To have been murdered
with my fellow-travellers would have been far preferable to this
torture.
The horror of that moment was awful.
The serpent, enraged by pain, raised its flat head ready to strike. I
set my teeth and closed my eyes, waiting to feel its deadly fangs upon
my cheek.
Another instant, and its venom would be coursing through my veins!