The sultan of the mountains

“At this time I had a mehalla at Bu Maiza. It was supported by the money of the Maghsen and it kept peace on the borders of Ahl Serif, which is always a rebellious tribe. Silvestre asked me to disband it, that there might be only one force in the country, and I said, ‘I will do this slowly, so that the Ahl Serif shall not think I am weak before them,’ but the Colonel pressed the matter, sending letters daily from Larache. I replied always, ‘The time is not suitable. There is much trouble among the tribes, and you should assist me to keep peace, not destroy my means of doing so.’

“I thought he had understood my words, but, suddenly, without any warning, he fell upon my mehalla, sending out two columns by night to eat it up. Kan haram! It was criminal, for my men were killed before they had time to defend themselves, and, when the Ahl Serif saw their distress, they came down from the rear and butchered those who remained. The commander of my army had been severe with the villages who refused to pay tribute, so the rebels took some of his men away into the mountains and buried them in the earth up to their necks, and left them there to die. The flies ate their eyes and the sun burned them, but it takes much to kill the men of Jebala, for they are strong, so at last the Ahl Serif brought their horses and galloped up and down over the heads, till they were knocked to pieces. When I heard this I swore vengeance.

“The destruction of my mehalla is one of the things I have never forgiven. The other is the murder of Alkali, of which I will tell you presently.

“The camp at Bu-Maiza was looted and nothing was left in it, not even the posts to which the horses had been fastened. Remember, I was still a Governor of the Sultan, so the matter was not between Spain and me. An imperial force had been destroyed without reason, and it was no more possible to enforce my authority, nor could I control the tribes who wished to avenge this insult. I went to Tangier to protest to the Spanish Legation against this action of Silvestre’s, for I knew there was no accord between them and I had the intention of never returning to Azeila. The Minister (it was really the First Secretary, Lopez Robert) received me well, and made many apologies, and would have persuaded me to go back to my province, but he never answered any of my questions, nor would he say anything definite. Ullah, this is a bad policy with Moslems, for procrastination is our heritage, and if a European is evasive, it is easy for us to defeat him at this game. So nothing was settled, but the Government congratulated itself on keeping my friendship. They assured me that all questions would be answered at Azeila, and, because I had left my family there and news came to me that my mother, the peace of Allah be with her, was ill, I agreed to return there, spending several days on the journey and speaking to the tribes as I went.[45]

“I had no communication with Silvestre until it was nearly winter, when he came to present to me an officer whom he had stationed in the town. I delayed three days in receiving him, for a man must be polite to his guest and I considered that no speech could undo the wrongs which lay between us. I said I was ill, or that I was busy, or else that I was praying, by which polite answers an Arab would have understood that I neither wished to offend, nor to see him. Silvestre insisted, and entered the yard of the palace, saying that he would wait at the door till it was opened. I therefore received him with the honour which I have always paid to his Government, for I still see in it our help.

“He talked to me of business before the mint was in the tea, and persisted in demanding the release of three Sheikhs of Beni Kholot, whom I had imprisoned because they would not pay tribute. I said to him, ‘I will free the men you speak of, if you wish, but do you not realise what you are doing? When you came to my country, all the people obeyed me, and, for that reason, I was able to help you. My assistance then was powerful. Now there are five tribes who dispute my rule. This is the result of your actions, and, if Raisuli falls, who do you think will keep peace? Every village will be at the throat of its neighbour, and no man’s life will be secure.’ I think in his heart he agreed with me, and, since the matter of Mulai el Mehdi was not yet settled, perhaps he hoped to prevail upon the Government in my favour.” “Thy words, Sidi, have always been of more value to thee than the blades of the jebala,” muttered Mulai Sadiq, but Raisuli gave no sign of hearing. Impassive and apparently bored, he continued, “Silvestre asked also for the release of the Ramla prisoners and, concerning this, I said we would talk later, for these villages had disobeyed my orders and fought against the Kaid whom I had appointed.

“I hoped then that the Colonel would leave, for it was late afternoon, and an unsuitable hour for speech, but he said to me, ‘How is it that you never return my visits nor offer me lodging in your house? The people talk of it and say it is your intention to avoid me and that there is no agreement between us.’ ‘I have no such intention,’ I answered, ‘but as for agreement, there are certain promises made to me by Zugasti and yourself which are still unfulfilled.’ There was silence, and I spoke no more, but he would not leave until I had agreed to accompany him round the camp at Aox, to show the natives that there was friendship between us. ‘This I do out of respect for Spain,’ I said, but I was convinced that he was not dealing straightly with me. Ullah, perhaps I was wrong, for truly there is much harm in pen and paper, and each one reads a different meaning into the written word.

“When there is no sincerity, whatever the one does the other disapproves of. So it was with Silvestre and myself. He accused me of taking possession of land belonging to the Maghsen and using it for my own purposes. When I produced documents to prove my rights, he said they were forged. The land at Sahel had been mine for many years, but Silvestre would not believe it. Then I too became angry, and I imprisoned those Arabs who had been working for Silvestre against my interests. I heaped chains upon them and allowed no food to be given to them except a little oil. The Spanish minister at Tangier wrote to me asking for their release, but I did not answer, for I had begun building in two places, at Rekada and at Bir Musuk, and it was very annoying that my claim to the lands should be questioned. I had paid the man much money to make out the deeds properly, and no one was the poorer because of this arrangement.” Raisuli’s voice expressed mild indignation and he pressed together his thick, moist lips as if to hold back a flood of words.

“Silvestre went again to Madrid,[46] and, because I hoped something might be arranged from this visit, I released the prisoners they asked for. When he returned it was the feast of Aidh el Kebeer, when all the tribes brought tribute and, in addition, such presents as they could afford. Some men of Beni Aros went to Larache to complain that I had kept five of their men in prison for a long time and demanded 8,000 douros for their release. This was true, for it was the amount of the tribute they had failed to pay, being obstinate people loving money more than freedom. It was many months that they had been in prison, chained on the same chain. The tribesmen sacrificed bullocks in front of Zugasti’s office and implored him to intercede for them, for they said, ‘You are the friend of the Sherif and he calls you his brother. Anything that you ask he will give you.’ They were right, and, had Zugasti come to me, all would have been well, but Silvestre was always between us, and I never saw my friend.”

About this time the Spanish police intercepted a letter to Raisuli from the commander of a small force which he had stationed in Beni Aros, to ensure the payment of a long-delayed tribute. It was signed by one Sid Hemed ben Musa and two others, and described in detail the burning of certain houses in Beni Ider, owing to the refusal of the “traitors” to pay the sum demanded. It is undoubted that deputations of indignant tribesmen constantly visited Silvestre, demanding relief from the extortions of the Sherif and complaining of the way their relations were imprisoned without a trial “during the pleasure of the Pasha.” It was also reported to him, but from not very reliable sources, that Raisuli was inciting the tribes to rebellion by means of letters which were to be read aloud by the Kaids. Rumour said that the Sherif proposed to lead an army in person against the mutinous Beni Aros, and Silvestre wrote hastily to Tangier urging the Minister to prevent Raisuli leaving that town, whither he had gone to make further complaints. As usual, however, the Legation was not in agreement with the military authorities, and the Sherif’s return to Azeila was unopposed. More tales of horrors were repeated to the unfortunate Silvestre, and he appealed to Raisuli by letter. The latter replied, “Let me govern in my own way, or let us break altogether.”

A number of tribesmen who had been friendly to Spain took refuge in the camp at Aox. Fearing the reprisals of the Sherif, they poured their grievances into the ears of the Spaniards. Another letter was intercepted. This time it was from Raisuli’s Khalifa to Abd es Salaam at Taieb, one of the commanders of his mehalla, and it ordered the immediate imprisonment of all the “traitors” of Jaldien and other villages.[47] In obedience to this letter, which had been sent in duplicate, a section of the mehalla duly attacked the miserable Beni Aros and burned several farms. By this time both parties were “seeing red,” and neither thought of the results of their actions. Raisuli went to Zinat, and it was rumoured that he meant to visit the sanctuary of his ancestor, Sidi Abd es Salaam. This would have been a signal for a gathering of all the tribes. The mountain would have been alive with rifles, and, with the cry, “There is no God but Allah and Mohamed is his Prophet.” The Holy War would have been proclaimed from one end of the country to the other.

A few Moors from Beni Aros came with their arms and horses and offered to fight for Spain, upon which the Beni Mesauer promptly pillaged their houses. In Suq es Sabt the tribesmen cut off the head of a Kaid appointed by Raisuli, and, a few days later, the mountaineers swept down upon the village and murdered several merchants.

“Nobody knew my intentions,” said the Sherif, “and, until I made known my will, there was no security in the country. My brother, in whom I had great confidence, came to me and asked, ‘What are your intentions concerning Spain? Tell me, that I may know how to act, for there is but one will in our family.’ I said to him, ‘You are the son of my father, and it is your right to ask my plans, but, tell me, where have you left your family?’ He replied, ‘They are in Al Kasr with my uncle.’ Then I said to him, ‘You have not seen them for some time. Go and visit them. Spend a few days with them, talk to them and take them gifts. Then return here and ask me my projects.’ He was surprised. ‘Why should I make this journey?’ he asked. ‘For the occasion is not suitable.’ I told him, ‘We are of the same house and I have confidence in you, so it is just that you should know what is in my mind; but, if I tell you, you will never again see your family. Therefore I advised you—go and visit your household now, and afterwards I will speak with you—for no man knows my plans and lives.”

CHAPTER XV

“Silvestre would not return to my house. He went straight to his office and sent messengers to bring him the register of the prison, but none could be found. The Qadi was busy and said, ‘Come tomorrow. Imsha-Allah I may have it then.’ Other officials were in the mosque, for it was now sunset and the day’s work was finished. ‘Later on,’ they said, ‘we will do as you wish, but this is not the time.’ Certain ‘mesqueen’[48] of the town, having heard of the affair and ready to fill their sails with his new wind, went to Silvestre and complained that their relations had been put in prison without cause, or because they refused me the money necessary for my houses at Tazrut and Zinat. Certainly I had to rebuild the last one, for it had been destroyed by the guns of Mulai Abdul Aziz, but I took only the presents which were my due and the labour which is always at the service of a Governor. It is the custom.

“Silvestre came again to my house and, standing at the door like a beggar, insisted that I should see him. Was it right that the representative of a great country should behave in this way? My servants told him that I was praying, but he said, ‘It is an excuse not to receive me,’ and he pushed past them and opened the door. My steward came to him in the hall and said, ‘The Sherif is in the Mosque. Listen; you can hear the prayers, but Silvestre was unbelieving, and he came and stood at the door of the room where I prayed. I took no notice of him and went on with the prescribed Raqua-at.

“At the end, and when I had finished my meditation, I turned and saw him still waiting. I gave him no greeting, but said, ‘Come,’ and led him upstairs, making him enter the room before me and sit in the place of honour. He was not long in speaking. ‘I have come to end this matter, for there has been too much delay. No register has been shown me, and certainly your prisoners have committed no greater crime than failure to satisfy your greed. You have extorted all they have, and, because they could not pay more, you have condemned them to a living death. Spain will not permit this to be done under the shadow of her flag. These men must be released today.’ Then I spoke to him. ‘Spain has other and greater purposes than to interfere with our justice. The Sherif law permits my actions, no, insists on them. You should uphold my authority, not weaken it, as has been your purpose for a long time. Spain swore to support our religion and our law. You misunderstand your mission. You have no more right to meddle with our traditions and our customs than I have to tell you the food you eat is unclean. To each country its laws!’ But he would not listen. He ordered my slaves to bring some of the prisoners before him. The man looked at me questioningly. ‘My house is at the service of Spain,’ I said. ‘Do as he wishes.’

“There was silence between us, but, while I contemplated the breadth of wisdom that is in Islam, Silvestre fidgeted and moved first one foot, then another, hitting his boot with a stick. At last they brought three men into the room, and something had been done to cover their nakedness and their sores, but they were dreadful to look at. Silvestre said to them, ‘What crime have you committed? Why are you in prison?’ and one answered, ‘By Allah, I am innocent of all intention to offend,’ and another, ‘I could not pay the money demanded by the soldiers of the Sherif, for the harvest was bad and I had no grain to sell.’ Then Silvestre turned to me and asked loudly, ‘Do you hear that? What have you to say?’ I answered, ‘My justice is true and there is no further appeal.’ He insisted, ‘But don’t you understand of what they accuse you?’ I pitied him at that moment, for it was he who did not understand. ‘It is not I who am accused,’ I said, ‘and words are the least valuable of a man’s merchandise. It is well not to trust them too implicitly.’

“Silvestre got up in anger and ordered all the prisoners to be released, but, before he could leave, I took him to a window and showed him a man sitting in the court. ‘Do you see that Faqih?’ I asked. ‘He has been sitting there for three days, and he has not eaten nor moved, except his lips for prayer. Do you understand that man’s mind? for he is content,’ and he answered, ‘No.’ Then I showed him a row of Sheikhs gathered in the shade of the wall. ‘These men have waited six days to see me, and they have not complained. They are content following the shade from wall to wall, and life is good for them. Do you understand their patience?’ Once again he said, ‘No.’ Lastly, I pointed across the roofs to a barred window very high up, and I said, ‘Behind that grille are women who have never seen the day. They live in one room, where they sleep and eat and bear children. They never leave the house until they go out to be buried; yet they are content. Do you understand their lives?’ ‘No’ he answered. ‘Then do not be so sure that you can judge our laws and our customs, for ignorance is a steep hill, with perilous rocks at the bottom,’ I said. And he went.”

There was a pause, and the Sherif looked at me gravely. “You, too, are wondering,” he said, “but purposely, I have made this affair neither black nor white, for you know something of the ways of the East. When I told you of my imprisonment at Mogador, you said, ‘How could you bear it? I should have died in three days,’ but it was not true. Death is in the hands of Allah, and it comes only by his will. What it is written that a man shall endure, that is his portion and he cannot get away from it. You trouble yourselves with much rebellion, and you eat up your years the quicker, but we do not fight against that which is sent us, and that is why we can endure.”

It is impossible to express the heavy fatality of his voice, unhurried and devoid of emotion. I wanted to argue, but it would have been to fling oneself against something as hard as granite and as immovable. The words died breathless in my throat and I felt as if they had been crushed by a great weight. “Patience is the only thing left us,” said the Sherif. “Once our race was great, and you learned your science and philosophy at our feet. Our armies conquered the West and Islam was invincible, but we were not a productive people, for the mind of an Arab is always more agile than his fingers. You took our knowledge and manipulated it to your purpose. Our strength was expanded, and the East fell before your vigour. Now it is your turn to teach, and we are slow to learn, for there is with us yet the memory of greater things than you ever knew, but it is dim. Perhaps we must lose it altogether, before we can meet you in the open and wrest back our sovereignty. Do you see that man at the well, and how he draws the water? When one bucket empties, the other fills. It is so with the world. At present you are full of power, but you are spilling it slowly and wastefully, and Islam is lapping up the drops as they fall from your bucket. Some day, when we have profited by your schools and your factories, we shall retake what is ours, but it will not be in our lifetime nor yet in that of our children’s children. So Allah has given us patience.” There was another pause.

“Before Silvestre returned to Larache, he ordered his men to see that the prisoners were released—so there was war between us. My people came to me and said, ‘Why do you permit this thing? There are enough rifles to turn the Spaniards out of the country.’ But I answered, ‘The time is not yet come.’ Nevertheless I began sending rifles and ammunition to the mountains where they would be safe. Every tribesman who came into the market with his sheep went out with the panniers of his mules stuffed with cartridges. Many carpets were bought in the town those days, and each roll hid a bundle of rifles. There were many ways of doing these things. Women going out to work in the fields carried ammunition packed in their skirts, for no man may look under their haiks, and truly, in those days, the stature of women swelled till all went to their work with hips so heavy that they could scarcely walk. In time this was reported to Silvestre, for, wherever there are strangers in a country, there also are traitors. Scum rises to the surface when the water is stirred. Hamdulillah, most of my stores were already in the hills, for the tribesmen brought in great bundles of thatch for the roof, and other villagers chose to buy it in the town, instead of procuring their own from the countryside, and this straw covered the journey of many guns. When the Spaniards put a guard on the maghsen,[49] more than the half was gone, but still they took possession of many thousand cartridges and quantities of rifles of all kinds.”

Spanish writers state that on this occasion they took 501 rifles, Martini and Gras, and 133,000 cartridges. They place the number of prisoners released as 98 or 91, and insist that nearly half of this number were Sheikhs who had refused to pay the tribute demanded by Raisuli. The Sherif’s story continued: “I have told you before that, as Governor, I was an official of the Sultan, so this action of Spain was an insult to his authority. Among the prisoners who were released were many thieves who had stolen even the jewellery of women and cut off their breasts when they struggled. There were also murderers, two of whom were notorious throughout the country. It had taken my soldiers six months to catch them, for they lived among the trees of the mountains like apes, and existed on the fruit and the herbs. The tortures they had inflicted on people are beyond my telling, and they took boys from their homes and tortured them as is forbidden by Islam.

“These men were let loose, and two lions could not have done a tithe of the harm which was laid at their door. In place of these scoundrels, the Spaniards imprisoned my friends and the teacher of my son, because he was loyal to me and would not tell where certain of my papers were kept. They took also the gaoler of the prison, el Hiffa, whom they made responsible for the condition of the prisoners, saying that food sent by their friends never reached them, but was given by this man to his family. Some of the prisoners died, and there was more trouble; but I had left at once for Tangier to report the matter to the Legation.

“The Minister received me well, and wrote hastily to Silvestre, saying that he had been too overbearing in his actions, considering the necessity of maintaining good relations with the Sultan’s Government. Ullah, there were many words wasted in letters, but the harm was done. I had the intention of never returning to Azeila, but Silvestre, guessing this, put sentries at the doors of my house and allowed no one to go in or out. My son was there, whom you know, and all my women, and there was one whom I wished to have with me. I should not even have been told of Silvestre’s action, but for the wit of a slave, who was carried out of my house in a bundle of rugs which the servants said they must beat in the street, for there was much dust in them. The soldiers would not let them go out without permission of his officer, so the bundle was put down beside the door, and no one noticed it while the argument proceeded.

“How many hours the slave lay there, half stifled among the wool, Ullah, I know not, but at last, when the attention of the guard was distracted, he slipped out and hid in the house of a friend, for he was well known as one of my favourites. The friend dressed him in women’s garments and put on him a haik and the handkerchief that is tied across the face, and, above that, the big hat which the peasants wear in the field. Then he put a rope of onions round his neck, as if he had just come from the market, and, in this way, my servant escaped from Azeila and came to me. I asked him, ‘What news?’ and he answered, ‘The news is bad. Allah forgive me for bringing it.’ I said, ‘The darkest day is better than the night. You are free, whatever your news,’ and he told me that my mother was ill and wished to see me before she went.

“I did not desire war, but, if attacked, only a coward does not defend himself, so I took counsel with el Arbi, and sent him to Wadi Ras to warn the tribes to prepare. I wrote also to Zellal and asked him to prepare the flags of Beni Mesauer, so many men to each flag, and each from a different section of the tribe. I had a few hundred men waiting for my orders in the mountains, for I was unprepared for the struggle. These I sent out among the tribes, distributing rifles from my store and ordering them to be ready. There was a great meeting of the mountaineers at Jebel Habib, the home of the Bakalis, and the Sheikhs of Wadi Ras, Beni Mesauer, Beni Ider, Sumata and others consulted together as to how the flags (companies) should be arranged. Mohamed es Siba was appointed chief of the loyal men of Beni Aros, with the Sumata, Beni Gorfet, and Ahl Serif.

“It was circulated among the Jebala that the women of my household had been killed at Azeila and that all my property had been looted. I did not deny the rumour, for it was as wine in the throat of an unbeliever, and great oaths were sworn in the mosques. It would have been a bad day for the Christians if I had loosed the leash. In peace, an Arab will say of the Europeans, ‘The word of the English is good,’ of the Frenchman that ‘he is brave,’ of the Spaniard that ‘he has a good heart,’ but, in war, he recognises no nationality. They are all Christians, and he is a Moslem. So it was now, and to add fuel to the fires which blazed from mountain to mountain, came the news that the Sherif was a prisoner at Tangier. It was already known that the arms and ammunition of the Maghsen had been confiscated at Azeila, and each man who had hoped to find his fingers on a new trigger vowed vengeance for the theft.

“There was a secret meeting in Beni Aros—down among those hills which you can see. Do you remember a wadi where the flowers (pink oleanders) grow over your head and the partridges call from thickets that even the hunter may not penetrate? It was there that each man came with his gun. Many of them were of the race of Jebel Alan, whose sons I shall always have at my back. Each mountaineer brought his food, and those who had horses left them where they would be ready for the march. ‘Praise to the Prophet—the messenger of God’ was whispered from mouth to mouth, while under the starlight the Kaid spoke to them in many words and told them, ‘It is your duty to protect the descendants of the Prophet, and the country that is yours. Life under the heel of the Nasrani[50] is hard, but death is an easy gate to paradise.’ So eloquent was his speech that they would have started at once for Azeila to exact vengeance for the blood of women.

“We do not treat our women as you do, but, if a tribesman lays his hand on the family of another, a gun will be hid for him behind every rock till the last of his men-folk is dead. I remember in Beni Aros, a woman ran away with a man of Beni Gorfet, and, her husband being killed in the raid that followed, there was only left her brother, whose face was as smooth as yours, and he had no gun, for it was a poor family. So he sold himself for so many years’ labour as the price of a rifle, and he went out stealthily and lay hidden behind stones and trees, waiting for the men of Gorfet. He had great patience, and, one by one, he killed them and, before he himself was slain, he had shot seven and also cut the throat of his sister. . . .

“Surely Azeila would have had short mercy before the weapons of Beni Aros, but this was not my purpose, for I still hoped for peace by means of the Ministry at Tangier. I sent other messengers to the hills to hold the people in check, telling them that, when the time was ready, I myself would lead them to victory. There was indecision among the Spaniards, for some wanted to make peace with me, believing that this was to the benefit of both our countries, while Silvestre longed to occupy Zinat. My house there was rebuilt with strong walls and gates, and the people believed that any who attacked me would go blind, for they said, ‘Disaster has overtaken all his enemies, but he remains strong.’ The Government was afraid of the newspapers, which for long were my best friends. Ullah, you are surprised, but it is true. All through the war it was like this. My strongest allies were in Madrid, and they were worth more to me than all my guns and cartridges. There would be a battle, and perhaps many of my men would be killed, and only a few of yours, but, immediately, the Spanish newspapers would begin their cry: ‘Mothers, why do you send yours sons to die in a country that is not theirs? Sisters, why sacrifice your brothers in a cause which is sterile and unprofitable?’ I cannot remember all the words, but they were read to me at the time. Truly, my heaviest cannon came into action after the battle was over, and the echo of their firing could be heard in the conferences at Tangier.

“It was difficult for the Government, for, on one side, the Spanish people feared they were fighting to no purpose, since the country is not rich and it is only for her honour and the protection of her coast that Spain would remain here. On the other, the soldiers, led by Silvestre, urged that the land must be taken by force, and in order to do this Raisuli must be imprisoned in Tangier. Perhaps even my life was uncertain, but Allah guarded it from all snares.

“When there is no leader, destruction forgets its purpose. So it was in Morocco. Men were killed in the suqs and on the highroads, whether they had arms or were without protection. The tribesmen attacked Tetuan by night and many were killed within the walls. A Jew had his throat cut, almost within sight of the Tabor at Ain Yerida, and the police would not interfere, for they did not know which side was strongest. The tribes themselves were waiting, but whenever there is war, there are evil men, thieves, murderers and brigands, who hang about on the edge of the armies and commit many crimes which are attributed wrongly to those who are fighting.

“Silvestre doubled the guard at Azeila, but there was always someone who brought me news. At first it was done by pigeons, for two or three carriers were smuggled in among a basket of fowls, but this was found out, and then it was more difficult; but walls have ears in Africa, and, from the roofs, every eye watched for the Sherif.

“Some of the discontented Arabs went to Silvestre with their arms, and offered to fight against me, but these were men of the plains who were afraid of attacks from the mountaineers. The plainsman suffers in war, for his country is the open road over which all armies pass. The Legation in Tangier was still trying to make peace with me, but I refused to return to Azeila and demanded that my family should be sent to me in Tangier.”

The modus vivendi proposed by Spain was that Raisuli should send his brother, Mohamed, immediately to Azeila with full powers to act as his Khalifa; that he should follow himself within three weeks, and remain there until the appointment of Mulai ed Mehdi as Kaliph had been made public, after which he could remain as Pasha of Azeila if he wished; that his brother should take with him letters to the tribes confirming him as Raisuli’s agent, letters to be opened and to be read by the Spanish officer at Azeila before being sent on to their destination; that the native troops should be under the orders of the Spanish officers only, who would be responsible for keeping order throughout the country, while the Sherif would have the civil administration in his hands. In order to prevent a repetition of the horrors reported and witnessed by Silvestre, a Spanish official was to have the right to intervene if necessary. All orders were to be signed by Raisuli and, if Spanish intervention occurred, it was to be arranged in such a manner that the Sherif’s prestige should not suffer. Criers were to proclaim throughout the towns and villages that an agreement had been signed between the Spanish Government and Raisuli. As soon as Sidi Mohamed arrived at Azeila, the Sherif’s friends who were in prison were to be released, but nothing was arranged about his wives and family. Spain for once held the strongest cards, and wisely refused to give them up.

Raisuli played for time. He had not, I believe, the slightest intention of returning permanently to Azeila, but he wanted to secure the liberty of his household, and he knew that, if he delayed long enough, the friction between civil and military interests would serve his purpose. “I knew my family were safe with the Spaniards,” he said, “but an Arab without his son is as one who has lost a limb.[51] Also I did not trust Dris ed Riffi, who was acting as my steward. At one time he was a very loyal servant, knowing not the value of money and having no interests but mine. Then he came under the influence of foreigners, and would have asked a reward for his services, so I said to him, ‘The labour that is paid is without confidence. Are you a slave that I should give you a gift when you please me?’ He was angry and muttered, ‘Anyone can accept service. It is only the great who serve.’

“Still I thought him faithful, till, one day, I sent him with my mehalla to exact tribute from a certain village. He returned, saying, ‘There has been a plague among their cattle and most of them are dead. Therefore the money is short, for there is nothing wherewith they can pay it.’ I knew then that he had been bribed by the Sheikh of the village, but I said, ‘It is the will of Allah.’ Later, I sent messengers to the tribe to find out exactly how much he had received, and this was not difficult. I thought to myself, ‘He has been my friend. Perhaps shame will drive the greed from his heart.’ So I sent for him and said, ‘It is nearing the feast, and I have a present for you.’ He looked surprised, but answered, ‘God make you strong.’ Then I made him sit down beside me, and I sent a slave for some money. He brought a bag and counted it out as I told him, and, when he reached the exact amount paid by the Sheikh, douro for douro, he stopped and went away. ‘That is my gift,’ I said. ‘Take it, and the blessing be with you.’ But he was afraid, and asked, ‘Why have you done this, Sidi?’ ‘Ullah,’ I said to him, ‘it is a pity that a man’s honour can be bought for so little, but I also have paid the price.’ Then he got up and would have left the money between us, but I said to him, ‘There is no need to fear. Take the money, for you must surely have great need of it,’ and he went away.”

CHAPTER XVI

“My brother had hardly started for Azeila when from Ziat, I went to visit some of the Anjera tribe. These people had never been my friends, but, at this moment, there was much hatred against the Christians and, when I received presents and messages from a certain village, I believed it was not so much for my sake as for Islam. I set out on a white horse which was a mark for all the countryside, and with me were Mohamed el Kharaji, who was later killed just outside Tazrut,[52] and perhaps six or seven others. When the sun was high we passed some tents, from which men greeted us, crying, ‘Sit down and rest yourselves. The meat is on the fire and there is nothing lacking but the guests.’ One of my men said, ‘It is the Sherif. Do you not recognise him?’ and the other answered, ‘Allah keep him. We know him, and we know of his journey, and, for that reason, we have prepared food that my lord may bless our tents with his presence.’

“With us it is discourteous to refuse such a request; so we dismounted and sat in the shade of the tents. But as it was cold when the sun was not on us, they said, ‘Come inside, Sidi; all is prepared that you may honour us.’ We sat on sheepskins spread over the mats, and these men, who had come from the plains, told us the news of Azeila and how each night there were shots fired in the neighbourhood of the town. ‘But the war is won, Sidi,’ said one, ‘for the Christians have not yet learned to shoot and the bullet of an Arab is never wasted.’

“Meat was brought and set in front of us, but I was not hungry, for it was early, and a wise man eats at the end of his journey, not in the middle of it. However, it is not polite to refuse what the host offers; so when the sheep, roasted whole with its feet and its head, was placed before me, I took pieces of it in my fingers and ate with much noise, to show my appreciation. As we sat in the tent, with the flaps lifted to let in the air, a dog came up and lay behind me, sniffing at my garments. I thought to myself, ‘Here is a friend in my need,’ and I gave it a piece of meat that it should stay beside me. Ullah, the others ate so heavily that there was not much left of the sheep, and even Mohamed el Kharaji loosed his belt with satisfaction.

“Then my host took up the head of the animal and made great play of cracking it open with his fingers, which is a strong man’s feat and an honour done to the guest, but I noticed that the skull was already split, and I thought, ‘My friend, you are more powerful with your tongue than your hands.’ Then, holding the head in front of me, so that the brains were apparent, he offered it to me, ‘In the name of Allah—with health, with enjoyment.’ I took the brains, as a refusal was not possible, but Allah, in his wisdom, caused there to be pain in my stomach, and I had no desire to eat. I thought, ‘If they are not looking, I will give it to the dog,’ but I expected every man’s eyes to be upon me at this moment of honour. Yet each looked at his fingers or spoke to his neighbour; so my hand stole out quickly, and the dog profited exceedingly. After this the tea came, and there was little ceremony in making it; then suddenly all spoke of the length of my journey and the difficulty of my road. I wondered then if there was an ambush prepared, for the plainsmen are not as loyal to their guests as the mountaineers. So I signalled to el Kharaji, and we rose and went out.

“The horses were brought quickly, and one held my stirrup as I mounted, kissing the skirt of my jellaba—was it not with a kiss that Issa,[53] whom we call ‘the breath of God,’ was betrayed? At that moment the yellow dog who had lain behind me ran out, howling as if a jinn had seized his tail. Someone threw a stone at him, but he paid no heed and, crying mournfully, with lips drawn back and gums bared, he writhed on the ground before us. ‘What has taken him?’ said el Kharaji. ‘Ullah, he has eaten poison!’ The dog raised itself on its haunches, but its hind legs moved no more. Its body was convulsed as if it were about to burst apart, and it died while we watched it. ‘A shot is a more merciful death,’ I said to our host. ‘Remember that when your time comes.’ Our eyes met and, for a minute, the hand of each man felt for his rifle. ‘It was well done, and worthy of your house, O Sheikh; but my life is under the baraka; none but Allah may take it,’ I said. We turned our horses swiftly, but as they would have sprung forward, the Sheikh flung himself on his face in front of me. I pulled my horse aside that its hoofs might not touch him. ‘I will repay your hospitality,’ I said, ‘but not in your house or mine.’

“That was the work of Dris er Riffi, but it was not ended.

“When I returned to Tangier, I heard that Silvestre had been commanded to deal patiently with me, in order that the tribes might be pacified. Ullah, if a man has hunted a fox from its hole and set his dog on its heels, it is too late to tame it! The Colonel had forbidden my brother to visit my family, still imprisoned at Azeila. He wrote that much discourtesy was shown him and that he had been kept waiting with many others outside the door of the Political office. He wrote in his own hand, ‘Finish this matter quickly and let there be an end of it, for it is impossible that fire and water shall exist in the same place.’

“This was difficult for me, because of the hostages held by Silvestre. A son is a warrior and must endure the chances of battle, but women are to be protected, and it was my duty to look after them. Our women fear many things, but most of all the unknown. They are not like the peasants who work in the fields and who know the use of a trigger as well as any man. They are shy when there are strangers without, and their feet are too curved for rough ways. So I was evasive in my answers, saying, ‘Wait until my mourning is over,’ for my mother, the peace of Allah be with her, was dead, and for forty days I might not travel or take part in councils. I wrote carefully to the tribes, telling them to wait, but my letters were difficult to understand.

“The mountaineers were surprised at the delay, and no doubt some of them said, ‘He has been bought by the Christians,’ but the wise men knew about my family. The messengers who took my letters were frightened, for they were ordered to read them aloud to the tribes. One came to me, limping and ragged, saying ‘Sidi, I took your paper to Suq el Habib, and when I called the people together in the market, they said, “It is the order to march,” and they were glad, and the Faqihs blessed them and everyone shouted, “Salli en Nebi er Rasul Allah,” and “God keep the Sherif!” Then I read the letter, and the noise died. They looked at each other and asked what it meant. Then one said, “The Sherif is very learned and we are but ignorant men,” and another, “The language is beautiful but the meaning is not in my head,” and others shouted, “It is not from the Sherif. The messenger lies. He has been bought by the Spaniards!” They flung themselves upon me, and I thought I was a dead man, but Allah saved me and the influence of my master. When they had finished beating me, I crept away and put oil on my wounds, and told one or two who would listen, “On my head, it is from the Sherif, and he but waits an opportunity, so be patient.”’ Then he showed me the cuts on his back, and they were deep; so I sent my intimates, who were known to be with me, among the tribes, and they explained matters to the Kaids.

“Still there were disturbances. The messengers who went to Beni Aros were beaten and put into prison, for the rifles of the tribesmen had been oiled for a long time! One day I received a letter without signature or date, ‘Allah keep the Sherif if he be with us, but our steel grows rusty and our fingers are stiffening from disuse!’ You have seen the Fondak of Ain Yerida? It is the key to Wadi Ras, which has ever been the gateway of Tetuan. A post of native police kept the key, but one sunset the hills above them were alive with men who cried, ‘The country is in arms, and this road but for Moslems.’ There was no fight—a few shots fired in the air, and the police, who had become too used to the safe end of a rifle, were driven out, closing the gate to the East. Thereafter no man went along that road, except with a paper from Raisuli. The tribesmen heard of this, and, once again, I had difficulty in restraining their bullets. Ayashi Zellal of the Beni Mesauer, the Bakalis of Jebel Habib, Haj el Arbi of Wadi Ras, some of the Kaids of Beni Aros were with me in my efforts. Each gathered the leaders of his flags and told them that the final ammunition had not yet arrived, and that the Sherif was waiting for a last consignment of rifles. At the same time, they sent their own servants to mix among the mountaineers, saying that Raisuli was rich and powerful, that he was the Sultan’s representative, and would supply rifles and grain to all who fought with him.

“Enthusiasm spread like a flame, and in the weekly market of Beni Yusuf there was no trade done. The Sheikhs of Sumata and Beni Aros moved among the people, answering their questions and reassuring them—‘You have waited for years. Can you not wait for a few days?’ ‘When shall we march, Sidi?’ ‘When Allah wills.’ ‘What shall be the first work for our bullets? Where shall we go.’ ‘Where Allah wills.’ So the country waited. Yet there were deeds that I could not stop. A Berber girl who worked in a Spanish farm was shot by her brother as she returned from her labour, and another, who was suspected of warning the Jews whom she served, died at the hands of her father and her body was buried hurriedly as if it had been a dog’s.”

It is probable that Raisuli followed his usual policy of playing off one party against another. The Spaniards were forced to realise his ascendancy over the Jebala, but they were allowed to believe that the Sherif would still treat with them on certain terms. “I will never fight Spain,” he said, “but I will fight—and conquer—Silvestre if he comes against me.” As a last resort, the Legation at Tangier arranged a meeting between Raisuli and the leader of the military party. Besides the two principals, there were present at this historic encounter the Marquis of Villasinda (the Spanish Minister), Colonel Barrera, and Zugasti, still Consul at Larache.

Raisuli’s description of the conference was as follows: “I had not thought to see my enemy again till one of us was approaching death before the rifle of the other, but when I found him waiting for me with his countrymen, I saluted him as if he had been my ally, for the guests of the same host share his friendship, and enmity dies on a threshold that is hospitable. Silvestre began at once to accuse me of breaking my word and I saw that this would be a repetition of our interview at Azeila, but, because of Zugasti, I answered quietly, ‘The tribesman who made such an accusation would die before the last word had fallen from his mouth, but you are safe under the same roof as my brother.’ ‘It is your influence which has raised the tribes against us,’ he accused me. ‘You are right; and it was my influence which kept them quiet for so long,’ I returned. ‘The country is full of complaints concerning your barbarity.’ ‘When a man is idle he finds time to complain. War is the best medicine for tongues which are too garrulous.’ ‘If you plunge the country into war, there will be enough bloodshed to separate us for this generation,’ he said. ‘It is not my work,’ I answered. ‘You have sown the crop, though I told you the ground was unprepared. Now you will reap it.’

Zugasti interposed, asking if there was no way of making peace between us, but Silvestre cried out, ‘He is a bandit! What is the use of speaking to him? My patience was exhausted long ago.’ ‘That is why I am stronger than you,’ I answered, ‘for, while I have life, I shall have patience.’ He shrugged his shoulders. ‘It is a matter of temperament. I am not willing to wait for things to be done next year or after twenty years! There can never be agreement between us, unless you are honest.’ ‘It is true,’ I replied, ‘that there can never be peace between us, for you are the wind and I am the sea. You blow mightily and I am enraged. I am like the waves which fling themselves on the beach, crested with foam, and you are the tempest which drives them, but you cannot move them out of their boundaries. Yes, you are the wind and I am the sea. The wind passes, but the ocean remains.”

“I would have saluted them all and left, for words were of no further use, but the Minister interposed. ‘Where are you going?’ he asked. ‘To my house at Zinat.’ ‘Wait until tomorrow,’ he urged, ‘for the Prime Minister has sent you a present from Madrid, as a proof of the affection and friendship of his Government. It is a collection of carpets which have been specially woven for you. At least you will accept this?’ ‘Sidi,’ I replied, ‘this is not the moment for gifts, for a present received by me from you would be called by my people by another name.’ He insisted, ‘They are very fine carpets, designed to your taste.’ Then I said, ‘I congratulate you on your sense of justice.’ ‘What do you mean?’ ‘I will explain, if Allah has blinded your eyes—they say justice is blind! I had a house at Azeila, and you took it. I had a great store of guns and ammunition, and you took it. I had furniture, carpets and mattresses—you took them, leaving me not so much as a handkerchief. Now you offer me a roll of carpets. No, Sidi, let those go with the rest.’

“The Minister frowned when my speech was translated to him. ‘Nothing has been taken from you. All is waiting for you at Azeila,’ he said. ‘Inshallah, I shall never return to Azeila, for if the sea and the wind are in the same place, there is much turmoil.’ ‘Will you not go to visit your family?’ ‘My family is large. It is all over Morocco.’

“The Minister insisted that I would not speak frankly, and that I was becoming an enemy of his country, and I answered, ‘I am the enemy of no country, but I am, first of all, the friend of my own. As for honesty between us, is it honest that you keep my family as prisoners? I did not know your nation made war on the harem.’ This struck him, because he had always been against Silvestre’s policy, but the Colonel, seeing it, broke in ‘I will give you my son as a hostage,’ he said. ‘Then each of us will have a pledge for the faith of the other.’ I remembered how, in Europe, you care for your children, giving them to others to look after and educate, but I answered, ‘It is to your honour that you think of such a thing.’ He went on, ‘I have only one son, and he is the child of the woman I love most in the world, but I will give him to you to ensure your friendship.’ Then I said to him, ‘Allah bless you with strength. Do you know what the son of an Arab is to him? We have no love of women, so there is but one person on whom our hopes are fixed. Our sons are our surest defence and the hope of our race. A man who is sonless is ashamed before his people, for Islam is the poorer because of him. Yet I would leave you my son and, knowing him in your hands, I would still be your enemy!’ So the conference ended.

“Silvestre returned to Larache and I went to Zinat, where the Legation still tried to communicate with me. Mulai el Medhi was proclaimed as Kaliph, but there was no road by which he could travel to Tetuan. The heart of the country was closed, and the people said, ‘Who is this friend of France who has been imposed upon us?’ El Mehdi went by sea to Ceuta, and, from there, Alfau, who was the first High Commissioner, occupied Tetuan. The Beni Hosmar would have opposed his advance, but I restrained them, for it was my idea that this city should be the capital of the Protectorate. Before we disputed over other matters, I had talked to Silvestre about the project, but I would have had Spain go slowly, strengthening her supports as she advanced. The situation was strange. On the one side of me there was peace, and on the other, war, but both came from the same nation. Alfau wrote to me saying my help was necessary if Spain were to advance further, but he did not dare suggest what was in his mind. Tetuan had been occupied without the loss of a life, and, their pockets fattened by Spanish pesetas, a crowd welcomed the arrival of the Kaliph, but, when he wrote to the tribes, announcing his accession and demanding their allegiance, his letters were met, each one, with a bullet. None of his messengers returned, but, El Hamdulillah, cartridges have always been cheap.[54]