The sultan of the mountains

“There were some who saw us and hid, for my companion cried, ‘It is the Sherif el Raisuli, the great, the holy man, who will reward you.’ We got down to the sea with great difficulty, for our fetters were heavy, but there was no boat, for the escape had been planned for some nights later. We prayed on the shore, and said the ‘Fatha’[22] together, and then, as it was near dawn, we sought a hiding-place in the town. A man who was a friend of the youth offered us hospitality, but I would not accept it, for I knew that he would be punished for protecting Raisuli. My companions went into his house and he sheltered them, but I went on round the edge of the town, hoping to meet some people, for all the years that I was in prison men of the mountain tribes watch in Mogador.

“It was the first dawn that I had seen for very long, and I stopped to watch it and breathe the sea air. Suddenly, while I stood, forgetting my chains, two soldiers of the Maghsen came round the corner. Hidden by a doorway, I sprang suddenly upon them before they saw me. Truly it was not so much a leap as a fall! One went down beneath the weight of iron I carried, and I killed him with my hands. The other thought he was attacked by a Jinn, and ran, screaming. There was alarm in the town, and the news was brought to the Governor of the prison. I could hear a drum beating as I lay behind a buttress of the wall, but now I had a rifle and ammunition. I was a warrior again!

“When the soldiers of the Maghsen appeared at the end of the street, I looked along the barrel of the rifle and said to myself, ‘That old one on the right, he is not of much use.’ So I fired at him and he died. A shower of bullets like crickets shot over my head, but, in those days, the troops did not use the sights of their rifles, so that no missile went near me. Besides, the buttress protected me. I fired again, and another man fell, writhing on the ground and crying out. Then I stood up and laughed when they could not hit me. ‘Don’t you know that I am Mulai Ahmed el Raisuli, and that no lead or steel can hurt me, for I have a special blessing from Allah? See, I have twenty bullets here, and for each of them a man will die.’ They believed me, for there was one there who had fought against me in the mountains.[23] There was much talk, but no more shots were fired, and, at last, the Governor came and spoke persuasively. ‘You are one against three hundred. What can you do? Give yourself up, and I promise you I will intercede with the Sultan for you.’

“It was a curious sight for the townsfolk who crowded on the roofs to see us—a prisoner in chains who treated with the Governor at the head of a troop! It was written that I should not escape, for the sea was behind me and the troops of the Maghsen in front. Truly I might have killed many others, but whether I could have escaped I doubt, for the fetters impeded my reach—and weighted down my feet. In any case, I was young, though much of my youth had been robbed, and I wanted life for my own purposes. So I said to the Kaid, ‘Swear to me before Allah that you will obtain my release, and say the Fatha as a covenant between us, in the presence of these soldiers; and I will give myself up.’ He did this, and I made him promise also that he would not search for my companions. ‘They are gone in a boat,’ I said, for sometimes a lie is permitted. Then I surrendered myself to the Kaid, and they took me back to the prison on a mule, for I could no longer walk.”

At the end of this story, coloured, I imagine, by el Raisuli’s appreciation of his own phraseology, my host looked at me suspiciously. “I tell you this to show that, if I have tortured others, I myself have been tortured; but it is between me and thee, for it is not good that such things should be told of the Sherif.”

The Kaid of Mogador kept his promise, and, as Mulai Hassan had died and his son Abdul Aziz ruled in his stead, there was little difficulty in pardoning a criminal of the preceding reign. El Raisuli’s prestige must have been great, for so powerful an individual as Mohamed Torres, the Sultan’s representative at Tangier, added his intercession to that of the Kaid. The Minister of the moment was el Menebbhe, a wise and a just man, whose influence in Moroccan affairs has always been great. In signing the order of release for el Raisuli, he wrote the prologue of a friendship which lasted for a long time and developed into a business association, for the two shared various interests in land and property.

According to el Raisuli, he left his prison imbued with the desire for a life of study. “I wished to live in a secluded place, where there was much sun and space, and yet I wished to hear the voices of women babbling about common things: you permit me to say that generally the conversation of women does not interest me much, but, in prison, one loses a sense of proportion. At first I lived in Tangier, where I collected numbers of books, for there were many things I had forgotten at Mogador, and I wished to learn them again. I was contented, as men who have had nothing are contented with little.”

Apparently, however, the Sherif’s desire for vengeance grew as he recovered his health and strength, for not long after his release he is said to have instigated the murder of a cousin who had lately become the wife of a relation of his enemy, the Bey of Tangier. This was perhaps the most ruthless of all the Sherif’s acts, for, with his own relative, were assassinated the old, half-crippled mother and young sister of her husband. El Raisuli would never talk about this affair, except to say that treachery was hateful in the sight of Allah, and that to live in the house of a traitor was to merit his fate. “I did not know that Arabs fought against women,” I told him. “In the countries of the East where I have travelled, no man would hurt ‘a woman, a Jew or a barber.’” El Raisuli very nearly smiled. “Here in Morocco, the Jews have much money, so how should we become rich unless we killed them? In the mountains we have no dealings with barbers, and, as for women, they fight as well as the men. It is they who carry the ammunition and load the rifles. Many a Berber woman can shoot better than a man.”

El Raisuli’s sisters seemed to have been the cause of a good deal of bloodshed, for it is told that one of them, who had been married for some years to a Moor of high standing, was very angry when her husband proposed to take a second wife. Possibly the destined bride was one of whom she particularly disapproved—history does not relate—for Islam permits four wives, and divorce is extremely simple, since it consists merely of saying, “I divorce thee,” three times in the presence of witnesses. However, on this occasion the first wife appealed to her powerful brother for help. No answer came, and the day of the wedding arrived. The feast was over, the musicians had departed, and the quivering cry of the woman was stilled. The bride sat in state on a pile of mattresses, awaiting her husband. Her mother was there waiting to untie the ceremonious knot in her haik. A negress stood by the door, with a bowl of milk and a platter of dates, signifying fertility and chastity.

Suddenly there was a sound of galloping hoofs, and shouts of warning came from the court, “Robbers, robbers!” The men rushed out with their guns, and the attacking party, after firing a few shots, allowed themselves to be driven off towards the hills. The defenders followed. Then, while the house was deserted, except for the women who huddled together in an upper room, some men crept silently from the bushes where they had been hiding, and, with a warning cry to the sister of el Raisuli, “Cover yourself, lady,—we are the followers of your brother!” they burst into the Harem and dragged out the bride and her mother. When the men of the house returned, they found the bodies of the two women lying across the threshold where, only a few hours before, a bullock had been sacrificed for luck.

El Raisuli did not tell me of this episode, but when I asked him why his men had killed the girl, instead of merely removing her from his brother-in-law’s house, he answered, “It was better to kill her. She had been seen by men who were not of her family,” from which I imagine that the bride was town-bred and of a good family, for the mountain women work in the fields with the men, their faces uncovered and their garments kilted up over sturdy limbs.

El Raisuli explained his return to the wilderness in this manner: “The ways of the Maghsen were strange. When Mulai Abdul Aziz gave me my liberty, I had no wish for further war. The people of Tangier respected me as a learned and sainted Faqih, and I wrote on the interpretation of Koranic law, which is a high honour in Islam. I had many pupils, but one day when I wanted money to give to some of them who were in need, I learned that the Government had confiscated my property in El Fahs. I was told that it had been given to friends of the Sultan, and some of it was in the hands of my enemy, Abderrahman es Sadiq. I appealed to Fez for redress, but nothing was done. There was no answer to my letter and my property was being wasted by others.

“What I had done once I could do again, but this time, when I returned to the mountains, it was with the intention of fighting Mulai Abdul Aziz. My flag flew again in Beni Mesauer, and from the house of Zellal my messengers went forth to the tribes. All the jebala was discontented with the rule of the Sultan. There was famine in Fez, and the soldiers were unpaid. El Roghbi—he of whom I told you—brought his forces to the walls of the capital, and the Sultan sent to Abd es Sadiq for help. The tribes of the mountains joined me, and I had an army greater than el Roghbi’s. News came that the Bey of Tangier had gathered a force for the relief of Fez. It was to be under the command of Kaid Abd el Melak, who was hated by all the tribes for his cruelty and rapacity. Abd es Sadiq was to travel with the mehalla[24] to ensure safety.

I was glad when I heard this, for I thought that, at last, I should hold my enemy in my hands. We lay in wait in a wadi where the road was a ribbon between the bushes. It was the hour before night, when a man may scarce distinguish if a thread is black or white. Below us we saw the mehalla approaching, but it was difficult to tell where was Abd es Sadiq. At last I picked out the stallion of the Bey with his personal guard, and the Kaid Abd el Malak beside him. Then I gave the signal, and the men rushed down on either side, till the enemy were squeezed between the two parties like a fruit in the fingers. Many were killed and others fled, but, when Abd el Malak had been captured, and we fought our way to the Bey’s horse as it was turned for flight, we saw a party riding swiftly towards Tangier, and we did not trouble about them, thinking them but servants or camp followers.

“There was furious fighting in the bed of the stream, while the Bey, cut off from escape, sat on his horse, watching, with his jellaba over his face. A man of Beni Mesauer caught his bridle, and the stallion reared, striking out with his forefeet. ‘Take him alive,’ I ordered, for I wished to see his face. I had not looked on it since the day he broke faith with me after I had eaten his bread. At that moment the jellaba was blown back, and, by Allah, it was a slave dressed in the Bey’s robe and riding his horse! Sidi Abderrahman was nearing Tangier, and congratulating himself on the wisdom of a fox. He was right. It is well to be prepared for everything.

“The tribesmen judged Abd el Malak, and every man’s voice was against him, so his eyes, which had seen much injustice, were burned out with two red-hot coins, the size of a peseta. He deserved to die, but, when he heard of the affair, the Sherif of Wazzan, who was always inclined to mercy, pleaded for him, and I let him go.

“From that day I was supreme in the mountains, and even Mulai Abdul Aziz could not question my authority. The tribes of Tetuan joined me, and my rule extended to the farthest horizon—beyond that to Azeila, where my sister was married to one of the great, and to Al Kasr, where it is too hot for men to fight. Against Europe on the one side and the Sultan on the other I protected the rights of the people, for they were my people.”

From this moment el Raisuli appeared in a new rôle. He was no longer a brigand, alternately quixotic and ferocious. All his actions were governed by a definite purpose. It was as a potentate that he treated with the Sultan and, in his dealings with European Powers, he showed himself no mean politician. Before his imprisonment he had been illogically cruel and equally inconsequently generous. He had never looked ahead, living for the moment and the adventure thereof. Now he set to work deliberately to gain the power which would make him secure. He played off the tribes one against another until he had them all at his service. He used his scientific and strategic knowledge, his eloquence and the ever-growing reputation for saintliness as means to ensure his alliance with other great houses. To the warriors of the mountains his courage and his still unbroken physique were sufficient appeal, but it was his fanaticism which won the Ulema[25] and the tribal Sheikhs. He stood for the old order that was passing, and they followed him to avoid the change which they presaged and could not understand. It says much for el Raisuli’s intelligence that, while treating at different times with various European Powers, and always to his material profit, he should yet represent to Morocco the champion of Islam against the Christian, of tradition against innovation.

CHAPTER VII

Mr. Harris describes the Raisuli of those days as having a fascinating personality and being “tall, remarkably handsome, with the whitest of skins, a short dark beard and moustache, and black eyes, with profile Greek rather than Semitic, and eyebrows that formed a straight line across his forehead. He smiled sometimes, but seldom, and I never heard him laugh. With his followers he was cold and haughty, and they treated him with all the respect due to his birth.”[26]

A slave approached el Raisuli with a deprecating expression and a bundle of fresh green-stuff. The Sherif waved him away impatiently. “No, no, it is finished. I am busy.” He continued his story: “I told you how all the jebala tribes were with me, and how I ruled as Sultan of the mountains. When any man had a grievance he came to me for justice, whether it was against the Sultan or the Europeans. It happened one day that there was talk of building a cable station for the line from Gibraltar to Tangier, and it was said the English wished to put it in the territory of the Anjera tribe outside the town. The Sheikh Abd el Hannan, who was a great man of Anjera, sent messengers to me, saying, ‘With all my force I shall fight this new thing that the Christians would do to us. Come to my assistance with the tribes of El Fahs!’

“It was a good excuse to rise against the Maghsen, which was weak and full of traitors. The English could do nothing; so they appealed to Mulai Abdul Aziz, who sent a strong mehalla[27] against us. It camped in the plain near Tangier, on the banks of a wadi, but, by this time, we were used to fighting the troops of the Maghsen. We knew that they would eat first and sleep, and that there would be no danger from them till they had satisfied their stomachs and were full. So we fell upon them in the morning while they were unprepared, and killed many, but one party we did not destroy, and they burned a part of my village at Zinat, and fled through the land of Anjera, looting and killing as they went. My people took many captives, and, because of the things that the Sultan’s troops had done to the tribesmen, burying them alive and hacking off their limbs, all the prisoners were killed. My people cut off their heads and other portions of them, which they put in the mouths, so that the women would laugh when they saw the bodies. This was a common custom.

“It was on that day that Harris was captured, for, having no fear and much curiosity, he had ridden out near to the battle to see the burning of Zinat. The tribesmen took him by surprise, for they were fifty or a hundred armed men. I was sitting under the trees, when I heard a great noise and much shouting. Men came to me, running, and said, ‘Sidi, they have taken a Christian, a European, and they are going to destroy him.’ So I went quickly to stop them, for I have always protected the Europeans. When I saw that the man was Harris, my friend, I said to the tribesmen, ‘No—give him to me, for he is my friend; he shall be my share of the loot of this battle.’ They refused, and there was much argument. Yet at last they desisted, and I took him to my house; but half of it was burned, and there was no rest for him. The tribesmen would have killed him, for the troops of the Maghsen had stolen their goods and destroyed what they could not carry; but I argued with them at length and would not leave him. I put a guard at the door of my house, and the Englishman was safe.”

El Raisuli was evidently determined to present his conduct in the best possible light, for Mr. Harris’ salvation was, I believe, largely due to his own wit and presence of mind, and his friendship with some influential member of the Anjera tribe to whom he had extended hospitality at Tangier. He describes his imprisonment in Raisuli’s house in this way: “The room in which I found myself was very dark, light being admitted only by one small window near the roof, and it was some time before my eyes became accustomed to the gloom. When I was able to see more clearly, the first object that attracted my eyes was a body lying in the middle of the room. It was the corpse of a man who had been killed there in the morning by the troops, and formed a ghastly spectacle. Stripped of all clothing and shockingly mutilated, the body lay with extended arms. The head had been roughly hacked off, and the floor all round was swimming in blood. The soldiers had carried off the head as a trophy of war, and they had wiped their gory fingers on the whitewashed wall, leaving bloodstains everywhere. However, I was not to suffer the company of the corpse for long, for half-a-dozen men came in, washed the body, sewed it up in its winding-sheet and carried it away for burial; and a little later the floor was washed down, though no attempt was made to move the bloody finger-marks from the walls.”[28]

This episode occurred in June 1903, and the negotiations for Mr. Harris’ release were therefore conducted in the fierce heat of an African summer. “There was much coming and going,” said el Raisuli, “and, as some of my people accused me of harbouring a Christian and being in the pay of a strange Government, I conferred with men of Anjera to arrange some way of safety for Harris. One night their great men came down from their villages and took away the Englishman, for they were his friends, and had promised to treat him as a guest. The Sherif of Wazzan, the same who had interceded for Abd el Melak, now acted as intermediary for Harris, but your Government wanted to hurry things, as is the way of European Governments. At first there was talk of money, but I would not receive one douro for a friend, and the tribesmen were agreed, so they asked but the release of certain prisoners, men who had been confined unjustly in the dungeons of the Maghsen. When this was agreed upon, Harris was sent in safety to Tangier.

“After this, since the Maghsen still held my lands, and others were eating my substance, I made myself responsible for the justice that was denied me. One here, one there, one in the city, one on the plains, I took men from their houses and held them until they restored to me that which was mine. There was one who had taken some of my money when I was in prison, and he had boasted in the suq, ‘See this silver belt and this dagger set with jewels? These I bought with the gold of Raisuli.’ One day he fell into my hands, for he could not always watch where he went. I said to him, ‘Give up the rest of that which you stole, and you shall go free,’ but he swore, ‘I know nothing of these things.’ Then I ordered my slaves to beat him with a knotted cord, and they gave him 500 lashes, but he would not speak, nor even cry out or complain. When he fainted, they carried him away and washed his wounds. The next day again, I said to him, ‘Before Allah, I will give you your freedom if you tell me where my money is hid,’ but he would not open his mouth. Before the 500 lashes were given, he fainted again, but he did not speak. The third day it was the same thing, and in silence he died under the whip. Not many men have conquered el Raisuli in this way.

“Again the Sultan sent a force against me, and I took refuge in Beni Aros, where all men were my friends. The mehalla established itself at Suier in Jebel Habib, and ravaged the whole country, so that the tribesmen came to me to protect them against a government which ate their harvest and stole their property. They could have given me up and profited very much from the gratitude of the Sultan, but no man would do this. Perhaps they feared me. In my life I have been little loved and much hated, but, above all, I have been feared. I thought, ‘How can I repay the men of Beni Aros for all that they are losing on my account?’ Then I began capturing strangers and giving the money of their ransom to the tribesmen whom the troops of the Maghsen despoiled.

“At last I thought I would seize a European, an important man who would make the world realize my wrongs, so my people watched on the outskirts of Tangier and, one night, when it was dark, they crept up to the house of an American, Perdicaris. He was sitting reading, with the light beside him, and he had no idea of their presence. They rushed in through the windows, which were open, and dragged him out, with his relative who was with him. With rifles pressed to their necks—so—the prisoners were hurried off to the waiting horses, and before morning they were with me in Beni Aros. At last I could make terms with the Sultan, and show the nations of Europe what manner of man was el Raisuli. I received Perdicaris in a tent spread with carpets and sheep-skins. My slaves waited on him and brought him all that he asked for. Then I spoke to him as a brother, and I said this and this has the Sultan done to me. At the end of my speech, Perdicaris shook my hand and said, ‘You have done right. Had I been in your place I would have acted in the same manner. From this moment I am no longer your prisoner, I am your advocate.’ After that he wrote a number of letters to Europe and America, explaining the circumstances, and his family sent me many presents. My prisoners were my guests, and they lived in comfort, walking about freely in the mountains and shooting with my guns, for there is much game in the jebala.”

The Sherif’s eloquence certainly hypnotized the American, for Mr. Perdicaris wrote of his captor, “El Raisuli is a well-educated man in every sense of the word. I go so far as to say that I do not regret having been his prisoner for some time. I think that, had I been in his place, I should have acted in the same way. He is not a bandit, not a murderer, but a patriot forced into acts of brigandage to save his native soil and his people from the yoke of tyranny.”

“While Perdicaris was shooting green plover and eating kous-kous in my hills,” said Raisuli, “the American Government[29] sent seven men-of-war to Tangier, and a battleship came also from England. The Sultan was frightened lest he should lose his throne, but he dare not despatch an army against me, for the life of the American was in my hands. One of the messengers who came to me from Mulai Abdul Aziz was an aide-de-camp famous for his cruelty. When he camped in any country he used to force the villagers to pay him tribute, the half of what they had, or the whole. If the money were not forthcoming quickly, he would have the women of the house seized and dragged out into the road, and beaten before all the village. If a man came to see him, riding a good horse, he would say to him, ‘How much will you take for that horse? It pleases me, and I would like to have it.’ The owner, frightened, would answer, ‘Of course I ask nothing; let my lord take it as a gift.’ The other would protest. ‘No, no, I must pay you its price. Leave the horse here, and I will send the money to your house. So the poor man would go away without his horse, and with no chance of seeing his money.” Apparently the stealing of a horse and the beating of women ranked in the Sherif’s eyes as equal crimes.

“When the Sultan sent this man as a messenger to my camp, I said to him, ‘Through you I am going to be very rich.’ He answered, ‘Allah keep you, Sherif, do you think I am so valuable to my master that he will pay to get me back?’ ‘No, no, it is not with him that I shall treat, but with the villages where your name is cursed. Do you not believe that the men of such-and-such places will be glad to put your head upon their fences and show your hands and feet to their women?’ ‘It is the will of Allah,’ he said, but I saw his cheeks trembling beneath the jaw.

“To make an end of the matter, I sent news to certain tribesmen that I had some merchandise to sell them, and, when they came and saw what it was, they paid me many douros, and I delivered the man to them. They cut his throat skillfully, while I watched. After that, I think the Sultan must have had difficulty in finding messengers, but his men were poor and would do anything for money.

“I had no wish to lose Perdicaris—he had a good heart and much understanding—but when Mulai Abdul Aziz agreed to my terms, for he was a weak man and easily distressed, I sent him down from the mountains with an escort and many gifts. Truly, a high price had been paid for him, and at last I had vengeance on the Bey of Tangier, for, in addition to a great ransom (70,000 dollars), my friends were released from prison to make room for my enemies, and I became Governor of all the districts round Tangier, in the place of Sidi Abderrahman, who had betrayed me. In this last thing I was doubly justified, for all the country had protested against the cruelty and wickedness of the Bey, and had desired that I should rule in his stead. So at last I gained the power which I had always wanted. Men think I care about money, but I tell you, it is only useful in politics. A man of much money has many friends, and often a man is judged by what he holds in his hand.”

CHAPTER VIII

I protested in favour of civilisation, pointing out its obvious benefits. “You give a man safety,” countered Raisuli, “but you take away hope. In the old days, everything was possible. There was no limit to what a man might become. The slave might be a minister or a general, the scribe a sultan. Now a man’s life is safe, but for ever he is chained to his labour and his poverty.” “What of the doctors?” I asked, after a silence prolonged by my reflections. “That is how Spain will conquer the country,” said Raisuli. “Already our doctors go into the harems when the women bear children: and there is a Sherif, a friend of mine, whose sight has been restored by an operation after six years of blindness.[30] Truly it is a greater miracle to give light than darkness.”

The Sherif lowered himself ponderously on to the piled mattresses. “I myself have had a tooth pulled out by one of your doctors. He would have thrown it away, but my servants sprang forward and took it from him. It was a very old tooth, so they were able to divide it among them and each wear a little bit, to bring them the ‘baraka.’”

El Raisuli is surrounded by a group of the most devoted men, who are more like disciples than servants. They hang upon his words and follow him about like dogs, looking at him with the same half-puzzled, half-hopeful expression, as a dog, when it does not understand what its master is doing. Three of them taste every dish before el Raisuli eats of it, and others sleep across the door of his chamber. They regard him with a veneration that is most heterodox in Islam, since the worship of saints is forbidden. No food that the Sherif has touched is thrown away, for it is supposed to have acquired curative powers, and the neighbouring villagers pay heavily for the privilege of eating a few dry crusts or sucking the bones from which el Raisuli has taken the meat.

“For a long time I ruled in the district of Tangier,” said the Sherif, gazing fixedly before him, “but the Europeans complained of my reign. I had brought security and peace to the country, but they feared a little blood spilt in the market-place or a few heads stuck on a wall. So the politicians of Tangier wrote to the Sultan. Mulai Abdul Aziz, wishing to please them, for he did not know which way to look for money, sent an army against me, under Khad Ba Hamed Khergui.

“I was at my house in Beni Mesauer at that time, and Ba Hamed sent messengers to me, saying, ‘We have arrived at such-and-such a place, and I would have speech with you.’ I told him, ‘If you come here alone I will receive you, and, on my head and my eyes, you shall be safe.’ So he came in the evening, when it was neither light nor dark. ‘Greeting, O my brother,’ he said, and I knew he had come to make terms.

“We ate the flesh of a sheep roasted, and then he said to me, ‘It would be a pity if there were a battle between us, for we should both lose many men.’ I agreed with him, and he continued, ‘How many of my men, think you, you could kill in the mountains?’ And I answered, ‘Many hundreds, for you would be as the blind fighting against those who can see.’ He said, ‘And how many do you think, oh, my master, that we should kill of yours?—for certainly few of your men would die.’ I told him, ‘Perhaps fifty, perhaps sixty, if there is much fighting.’ At last he asked, ‘And how much is a man’s life worth to you, Sidi?’ Then I saw what he intended, and the matter was arranged. I paid him the blood-money, so much for each man, and he agreed not to advance beyond a certain place. In this way there was peace.”

The period of which el Raisuli was speaking was one of the most troubled in Moroccan history. It was the eve of European intervention, and the Sultan, ruined and held a prisoner by his ministers, was powerless. The tribes imagined that he had betrayed Islam and sold himself to the foreigners. On every side the Maghsen showed itself incapable of protecting the Europeans within its borders. A Frenchman, Monsieur Charbonier, was murdered in Anjera, and two young Spaniards imprisoned in Beni Uriagel. The crew of a Spanish boat (the Joven Remedias) was seized by the tribesmen, off Cap Jubi. In Casablanca Christians were assaulted and robbed. Finally, Azeila was sacked by the mountaineers.

El Raisuli wished to add Sahel to his governorate of Tangier, and Mohamed Torres (Minister for Foreign Affairs) held out hopes that he would obtain the outpost, if he would go to Azeila to put down the insurrection there.

Mohamed Ben Abdul Khalak had been Governor of the town, but he had many enemies on account of his extortions, so the Beni Aros who had property near Azeila plotted to destroy him. “There were no rifles in the city,” said the Sherif, “for Abdul Khalak was a wise man and knew the danger of a careless shot; but two men of the Beni Aros, Berrian and Uidan, arrived at the gates one morning, with donkeys laden with bundles of straw. The guard let them pass, thinking they were farmers from the neighbouring villages, but inside the straw were rifles. These were hidden in the house of a friend, and, afterwards, the tribesmen entered without arms, as if for the market. One by one, they went secretly to the place of meeting, and, at night, when the signal was given, they rushed to the house of Abdul Khalak and took him prisoner. Then the townsmen joined them, with rejoicing, and the Kaid was kept in a dungeon, while the Beni Aros ruled the town.

“Remembering this trick, I said to myself, ‘A bird once snared will be so busy avoiding the same trap that it may well fall into another’; so I sent many rifles to Azeila by boat. They were hidden under fishing-nets and smuggled into the town by means of a rope let down over the wall. Then my followers went in with empty hands, not all at once but by twos and threes. The rifles were hidden in a mosque whose Imam was my friends, and, after some of my men had established themselves in this mosque, and others had taken possession of a house overlooking the gate, they sent me word that they were ready. During the night they cut all communications in the town and, in the morning, they opened the doors to my troops. So was Azeila taken for a second time, and my promise to Mohamed Torres fulfilled, for I had said to him, ‘my mehallas shall capture the town and restore the rule of Abdul Khalak.’”

Simultaneously, however, the Corps Diplomatique sent a strong note to the Sultan, protesting against the frightful corporal punishments inflicted by el Raisuli, the excessive taxation he imposed, and his insistence on administering his own form of justice to Europeans within his jurisdiction. It is notable that the German Minister was, from the first, opposed to this step. On every possible occasion he upheld the authority of el Raisuli and assured him that his government considered the Sherif justified in all his actions. However, the insistence of the French Minister won the day. By the Pact of Algeciras it had been arranged that French police should patrol the International Zone outside Tangier, but Raisuli would not allow them in El Fahs. This was perhaps the beginning of the friction which has always existed between France and el Raisuli.

Mohamed Torres was obliged to cancel the proffered bribe of Sahel, and, on December 11th, 1906, he announced that two mehallas were on their way from Fez to re-establish the authority of the Pasha of Tangier and to banish el Raisuli. The Sherif took refuge in Zinat. From there he defied the European Powers, whose war-ships lay in the harbour waiting to enforce the Pact of Algeciras, and the Sultan, whose troops arrived early in January, prepared to act with more decision and vigour than usual.

“I had a great house at Zinat,” said el Raisuli. “It was a fortress built against the rocks, with many little windows from which men could shoot. On the flat roof snipers could lie hidden behind the parapet and, from the towers, a watchman might see the whole plain. The army of the Maghsen had camped below us, but out of range, men dressed as soldiers, yet not knowing how to handle a rifle. The artillery was on the left and the cavalry guarded the flanks. It was a fine sight in the early morning, when the bugle sounded the advance. You could pick out the cloaks of the officers and the flags of the generals, Sidi Mohamed Guebbas, the Minister of War, and Sidi Mulai Abselam el Amarani. It was like a toy army as, without discipline, it moved forward, the companies so close one to another that they could have been mown down by a maxim like corn before the scythe. No answering bugle came from Zinat, but, from every hill-top behind us, to the far-away ridges of Beni Mesauer, a column of smoke arose from the fires of the tribesmen.

“When the army was quite near, so that the faces of the men were apparent, I said to my followers, ‘Now pick out each of you a man, and see that he dies.’ The rifles spoke from every loophole and each rock hid a sniper, but nothing was visible from below, for we used powder which has no smoke. The army replied with a crash of musketry, but there was nothing to aim at. They fired at the rocks and the trees, but most of the bullets went skyward. Then the artillery began. Zut!”

The Sherif banged one hand into the other with a rare gesture. “A shell whirred over our heads, to kill a few birds—and another—and another—

“Only one hit the house all day, but we took toll of those below. There were too many cowards in that army, who ran about shouting and firing, making much noise lest their lack of courage be discovered. The horsemen galloped wildly, as when we make entertainment for a guest. Plomb! Plomb! The shells made holes all round, but never near us. There was much movement, but nobody advanced. At first the women had implored me to leave. ‘Fly and save yourself, for your life is important,’ they prayed, and kissed my knees; but I told them, ‘Be assured that nothing can hurt me, for I have the ‘baraka.’ It is true that I have never fled from any place before the bullets of an enemy. Where I have been at the moment, there I have stayed, whether before the shells of a cannon or the bombs of an aeroplane.

“At the end of that day no harm had been done us, save that a village had been burned round the flank of the mountain. The soldiers were so busy looting that they had no time to advance, and, at last, a slave-woman ran out and cursed them. ‘Aie! are you maidens preparing for marriage, that you carry away mattresses and furniture? Certainly you are not warriors, and no woman will be desolate because of your triggers!’ She stood on a rock, with her haik thrown back, but no one dared fire on her, for they thought her a witch. She called on my men to follow her, and, though I had said to them, ‘Let no man show himself, and hold your fire till you have chosen your enemy,’ they leaped from the wall and rushed down the rocks, as many as I can count on my fingers of both hands. At this moment the army retired, for the General had been hit, and a mule carried him out of the battle, so that these few men followed, shooting at the backs of hundreds!”

CHAPTER IX

“The troops of the Maghsen had become swollen like barley after the rain, for reinforcements had come from Tangier, but there was no hurry to advance. There was a French gunner with the guns this day.[31] The shells no longer flew wide. Very soon I saw roofs crumble and the walls fly up like fountains, but I said nothing. That which is destructible is doomed to be destroyed, but material is everywhere on the ground and, for the Sherif, labour is but limited by the numbers of the population. Truly, building a house is no great matter. The sun was full overhead before the mehalla advanced. They came slowly, waveringly, as you see birds go down to the water, uncertain if there is a snare. At the distance where a man may shoot without aiming, they raised their rifles, and the noise of their firing reached us far away where we sat behind the rocks. Truly they must have killed every lizard and beetle in Zinat, so much lead did they pour into the village, but there was no answer.

“Zinat waited silently for what was written. At last the troops charged, but they were doubtful, each man wishing to keep behind his neighbour. I know not how soon they discovered that the village was empty, but then their courage was great. Shouting to each other triumphantly, they attacked the furniture we had left behind, and in a minute the whole army was turned into porters. If we had walked in among them, they would have paid no attention to us. Running to and fro, staggering beneath their burdens, we watched them, and then, suddenly, the houses burst into fire. The flames rolled up to the skies, and nothing could be seen but smoke. . . .”

Raisuli moved his huge body with an effort. “By Allah, a house is like this flesh of mine, an encumbrance, and a man moves quicker who has no possessions to guard. After the destruction of Zinat, no one could say where I lived, for I could move quicker than the imagination of the Maghsen. At times I would be two or three days in the saddle without food, pausing only to pray or to drink a little water from the wadi, and, at others, I would live like a Sultan, eating a young sheep at every meal. We have a saying, ‘A man has no right to sleep on silk, till he has walked barefoot.’

“After a while Zellal was obliged to make his peace with the Maghsen, for he had relatives and much property in the towns, but, before this, we made a covenant that he should give me warning of any new move on the part of the Government. I had spies also in Tangier and Fez, who reported everything to me. Then I went further into the mountains, till I lived among the Ahmas tribe, who can never be defeated because their country is like the walls of this room and their houses the eyries of hawks. There is a story that they have a secret city so hidden that none may ever see it. It is said that here is an old library, with many books and marvellous parchments written in a strange language. Concerning this I made many enquiries, but heard nothing certain. It may be that there is something, for there are ulema among the Beni Aros who do not learn their wisdom at the schools.

“The Sultan made many attempts to capture me, and the armies of el Guebbas ate up the country till the people prayed against him in the mosques. Now there was in the service of the Sultan an Englishman called Maclean, a man of great courage and little learning. He was a friend of mine, for he liked the Arabs and lived after our fashion. When Mulai Aziz grew tired of trying to capture a man who was like a shadow changing with the position of the sun, he ordered Maclean, who was an instructor in his army, to write to me and arrange a meeting.”

Sir Henry Maclean, about whose life el Raisuli seemed to know very little, was at that time, perhaps, the most picturesque figure in Morocco. From one who was at the British Legation in Tangier for several years, I understand that Sir Henry “started life as a subaltern in a Highland regiment quartered at Gibraltar, but, finding it impossible to make both ends meet in a crack regiment with but little private income, he had resigned his commission and crossed over to Morocco, in the hope of carving out a career for himself. Finding nothing to do in the coast towns, he had made his way to Fez, at that time an almost unknown city, as far as Europeans were concerned. After great difficulties he succeeded in obtaining an audience with the Sultan, to whom he commented in scathing tones on the state of the Moorish army, and guaranteed that, if he were given the post of Instructor-in-Chief, he would convert it into a disciplined force.

The Sultan, favourably impressed by the young Scotsman, gave him the appointment and saw to it that he was given every chance to make good his promise.”[32] At the time of which el Raisuli is speaking, Sir Henry Maclean had held this post for over thirty years, and had completely won the confidence, not only of the Sultan, but of many of the tribal chiefs.

It appears that, when he confided to the British Legation his scheme for the conciliation of the Sultan and the outlawed monarch of the mountains, he was warned against attempting a personal interview with el Raisuli. The Sherif told me much the same thing. “When el Maclean visited me in the neighbourhood of Al Kasr, the place arranged for our meeting, he related that his government was afraid of some treachery on my part. I said to him, ‘A man with a clean heart need fear nobody.’ We discussed the situation for many hours, and he wanted me to accompany him to Fez, that he might arrange an interview with the Sultan, but I remembered the darkness and the pain of Mogador, and I said, ‘A bird does not fly into the same snare twice!’ Then he swore, ‘I will be responsible for your safety,’ but I trust no man’s word, for my life has made me suspicious. So I said to him, ‘Go back to Mulai Abdul Aziz and say to him this and this. Then return quickly, but bring me a letter from the Sultan, that I may have some surety.’ After this el Maclean journeyed back to Fez and stayed there a short time. Then I received a message from him, saying that all was well and that he would meet me at a certain place, to which I must come with only a few men. He would not trust himself in the farm where my mehalla was camped, so I thought to myself, ‘Either he has been warned again by his Minister, or else there is a snare being prepared for the rabbit, but how strange if the hunter falls into his own trap!’

“I went to the place arranged, with but ten horsemen, and when el Maclean joined me at the appointed time, he also had ten followers, so our forces were equal. Did I not tell you the ‘baraka’ was with me? Now listen what happened. At Fez the Sultan had written two letters. One was for me, and in it he called me his friend and said there should be peace between us. He appointed me a Governor and promised that all my property should be restored. He assured me that he had given orders for all his forces to retire, so that I might move freely where I chose. The other letter was addressed to el Guebbas, his Minister of War, and in it was written that, in answer to the prayers of Maclean, the Sultan had decided to pardon el Raisuli and had promised that he should be invested with the powers of a Governor, as soon as he made his submission. El Guebbas was to retire with all his army from the territory of the Sherif, but, at the end, it was written that the General must in all ways acquire the confidence of el Raisuli, so that when he came down from the mountains it would be easy to seize him by stealth and imprison him. ‘Make all necessary concessions,’ wrote Mulai Abdul Aziz, ‘so that when a suitable moment arrives he will suspect nothing.’

“Now the ‘baraka’ has been very powerful in our family since the time of Sidi Abd es Salaam, to whose tomb on Jebel Alan all young men who are bridegrooms turn and make a salutation, saying, ‘I am under the protection of Allah and of thee, oh, blessed Abd es Salaam.’ Our ancestor was so humble that he would not allow a Qubba to be erected over his grave, saying, ‘The place where I am buried shall be flat like the earth around, for I am of no greater value than the earth.’ Many great Sherifs who were his descendants wished to build a mosque over his tomb, as would be fitted for so holy a man, but always it was said that the special blessing would depart from our family if the wish of Sidi es Salaam were set aside. So no Qubba has been built, and his protection is ever with us.

“It happened, therefore, that the wits of the scribes who copied the Sultan’s letters were muddled, and when Mulai Abdul Aziz had signed them and affixed the great seal of the Empire, his secretaries put the letters into the wrong envelopes and gave them into the hands of Maclean, unwitting of what they had done. It happened that when the Englishman came to me and found me seated on a carpet before my tent, for the heat of the day was past, he saluted me and said, ‘I congratulate you, O, Sherif, for all is arranged with the Sultan. There will be peace between you. You are to be reinstated as Governor, and el Guebbas is, from this moment, at your orders.’

“Then he handed me the letter from Mulai Abdul Aziz, and I read it three times, for it was the missive intended for the Minister of War, and I saw at once the trick that it was intended to play upon me. Maclean, seeing me hesitate and being able to read nothing in my face, asked me, ‘Of what are you thinking?’ ‘That I am grateful to the Sultan for his pardon,’ I answered; but my thoughts were troubled, for Maclean had with him as many men as I had, so I could not seize him by force, for perhaps some of my men would have been killed and he would have escaped. I said to him, ‘Will you come into my tent and rest, while my men prepare for the march?’ ‘Where are you going to?’ asked Maclean. ‘I must go down to the army of el Guebbas to acquaint him with the news. I had a letter for him also, which I sent by a messenger.’ ‘I will write a reply to the Sultan,’ I said, ‘but first I must consult my brother, who is ill and could not come to meet you.’ ‘Where is he?’ asked el Maclean, who did not wish to leave me until he was sure of my intentions. ‘He is only a little way from here, in a farm. I will send him a message to say that I am coming.’