Chapter XVIII

Threatened attack by Zemmúr—Direction of march changed—Fight with
Zemmúr—Sport spoiled—Forest of Mamora—View of Rabât—Camp at
Sla—Sallee rovers—Ruins of Shella—Female saints—Tower of
Hassan—Auction of rugs.

_Camp Sla, opposite Rabât, 17th May 1880._

About two hours’ march from Sídi Adab there was suddenly great excitement among our escort, who dashed off with cries of “Zíd, Zíd!”[82] in the direction of a body of horsemen who had just come into sight, while Kaïd Ali’s guards closed round the party. As the Beni Hassan galloped across the plain, they insensibly separated into three bodies—a few in advance, then the main body, followed by a small rear guard. Before the two parties came into contact, the Zemmúr—for so they proved to be—turned tail and disappeared into the Mamora forest, to which we had now got near. A short way on we came upon a small body of Beni Hassan cavalry, who said it would be impossible for us to proceed, as the Zemmúr were in force ahead of us, and having heard of our approach, intended to have a try at our baggage. The horrible vision of Boomgheis and Norton, each with a Zemmúr at his throat, rose to view, so I was glad when the order was given to send back a part of our escort to save our followers—and portmanteaux—from the fate which awaited them. We then struck off in the new direction, and got into camp at Kontra, after a march of twenty-six miles, instead of about eighteen, as it ought to have been. The rain had been falling nearly all day, and at luncheon it blew such a hurricane that we had to hold on to the poles of the tent to keep it from being blown down. During the latter part of the march we rode through a plain covered with long rich grass, which they never cut or make into hay, parallel to which, and three quarters of a mile off, was the Mamora forest, along the edge of which we saw small bodies of the Zemmúr occasionally peeping out to reconnoitre us. Kaïd Ali, noticing two of the party riding too near the wood, at once sent off some of his troopers to bring them in. He says the place is swarming with these robbers, and it would take a whole regiment of cavalry to conduct us through the way we wanted to go. At the same time, we are told that if we had put ourselves under the protection of these gentlemen, they would have seen us safely through this district. In that case we might have been subject to an attack from our present protectors, the Beni Hassan! These Zemmúr are a _brebber_, _i.e._ aboriginal tribe, inhabiting a vast tract of land south of the Beni Hassan country. Most of it is covered by the forest of Mamora, into the recesses of which they retreat when the Sultan sends a force against them to levy tribute, which they never pay without some such gentle pressure.

Outside the dúars were many fine cattle of a larger breed than I had yet seen. The men who had charge of them were all mounted and armed, and the beasts were driven inside the dúar at night. The camp at Kontra was close to the Sebú, a small tributary of which we crossed at the end of our day’s march by a stone bridge, with two large palm-trees near it. I had a long talk with the Beni Hassan kaïd, who camped close to us. He says his last fight with the Zemmúr was four days ago, when two of their men were killed. He and his troop only came a short way with us next day, a messenger having arrived in hot haste to tell him that his village was being attacked, and that the cattle, about which I had complimented him yesterday, had been carried off.

The tide comes up the Sebú as far as Kontra, where it is about a hundred and fifty yards wide, justifying the praise of it by Pliny, who writes of the “Subur amnis ... magnificus et navigabilis.” From thence it winds north towards the outlet through which it flows into the sea at Mehdía. We left it on our right hand, and presently came on a large body of Udaiah, or regular cavalry, who are out in camp for the purpose of punishing the Zemmúr, and whose commandant sent forty men as an additional escort for the ladies, while we, with our guns and thirty men of a neighbouring tribe who had joined us, went into the forest in search of the Great Bustard. This bird is the _Otis tarda_, of which we saw several between Fez and Mequinez, and it is still to be found in many parts of South Europe, though the species is extinct in Great Britain. The trees were chiefly cork, under which the long grass and tall chamomile grow in great luxuriance. Our guides were queer-looking fellows on small wiry horses, and all had guns; they had a remarkable kind of coiffure, their heads being adorned with small red caps, sticking out from which, on either side, were tufts or rather bushes of black shaggy hair. Their chief was an intelligent fellow, on a good-looking gray, which he told me had lately belonged to a Zemmúr. His former owner, however, had wandered too far from the forest to reconnoitre a village, and while being pursued by this chief and his men, the gray put his foot in a rabbit-hole, and coming down, was annexed by my friend. “And what did you do with the robber?” I asked. “Oh, he was hurt a good deal, and we killed him, as we always do with the Zemmúr,” was the reply.

The pursuit of bustard proved a failure. Our plan had been to go ahead some way, and dismounting from our horses, wait for the birds to be driven to us by the horsemen in line. This their chief would not hear of, saying that not only should we run great risk for ourselves and horses, but that his men being scattered would fall an easy prey to the robbers, who he knew for certain were moving parallel to us in great numbers through the wood. Seeing they were determined, and would not even spread out to drive the wood, we gave it up as a bad job,—the more courageous of the party, when well out of the forest, being as disappointed at not having a brush with the enemy as with the failure of the bustard-shooting. We got on the track again near the sea, and about eight miles from Rabât, the view of which, as we rode along the top of the cliffs, was very fine. Its white walls and minarets, bright and shining with the rain that glistened on them, had quite a dazzling appearance in the light of the sun, which now began to show itself. The effect of this also was heightened by the contrast with the dark and stormy Atlantic, whose waves rolled in with a loud booming sound against the iron-bound coast beneath us; while on our left, and looking, from its enormous size, close to us, rose the gigantic Tower of Hassan, like a huge sentinel guarding the eastern approaches to the city. Half a mile from the town we were overtaken by a tremendous blast of wind and rain, from which we took shelter under an arch of the old Roman aqueduct, which as late as 1790 supplied the town of Sla with excellent water.[83]

The river Búraghrag, on the bank of which we are encamped, divides Rabât from Sla. It flows through a large expanse of sand before emptying itself into the sea, and on this plain our tents are pitched—a rather insecure holding-ground for tent-pegs during the fierce squalls which sweep across it.

Some of us took a walk through Sla before dinner. There is nothing very remarkable about the place, except the intense dislike of the inhabitants to Christians, which is the more to be wondered at, considering that across the river, in Rabât, this unfortunate class has long been tolerated. Possibly the feeling is inherited from their ancestors, the far-famed Sallee Rovers, who, up to the middle of last century, used to commit much havoc among the English mercantile marine, robbing and destroying the ships, and sending the unfortunate crews as slaves into the interior. It was not until quite the beginning of this century that any effectual measures were taken to disperse this nest of pirates, though as far back as 1648 the place was stormed and destroyed by the combined forces of the Sultan Mulai Zidan and Charles I. of England,—the latter monarch receiving the following year, in a present from the Sultan, a number of Barbary horses and three hundred Christian slaves!

Sla (Sallee) seems more given up to shoemaking now-a-days than piracy, whole streets being occupied with nothing but slipper shops. The Melha, which we also visited, was full of excited Jews all in gala attire for their Feast of Pentecost, and many in an advanced stage of intoxication, in which we were pained to see one or two true believers joining.

In Pliny’s time, 23 A.D., “Sala” was the southernmost Roman settlement in Marocco. He calls the river “Sala” also, and Polybius, two hundred years before him, mentions it as “Salat,” in which spelling he is borne out by inscriptions on coins found here. Pliny, in writing of the town, says it was “solitudinibus vicinum”—a description which still applies, but the elephants which he mentions as infesting the neighbourhood are a thing of the past. The savage tribe of the Autololes, however, who in those primitive days held in terror the whole neighbourhood of Sala, have their representatives now in the Zemmúr, who are proved to be their direct descendants. The few foreign consuls who live in Rabât came over to pay their respects to His Excellency, and Mr. Frost, the English representative, to whom we are indebted for much attention and civility, dined with us in camp. We have now reached the farthest point of our pilgrimage, and to-morrow our horses’ heads will be turned northwards for the homeward march,—rather to the regret, I think, of most of the party.

The view from our camp, across the Búraghrag, of the town of Rabât is exceedingly picturesque, and a good photograph of it was obtained. The town stands high on a red sandstone cliff, against the ruddy sides of which the white houses form a striking contrast. The ancient fortifications on the extreme west of the rock are built of this sandstone, and mingle their warm colouring with the luxurious vegetation, by which in parts they are almost concealed. This fortress, and indeed most of the town, was built by Yakúb el Mansor (the Victorious), the reputed founder, too, of Alcazar, in the twelfth century. A part of it was rebuilt and made into batteries by a renegade Englishman in 1772. These seem still in pretty good repair, as also are some immensely strong bomb-proof magazines close by, but the guns in the batteries are not fit for much.

The rain began falling in torrents as usual about twelve yesterday, from which hour till 2 P.M. we occupied ourselves pleasantly in rowing up the river, in an open boat half full of water, to opposite the ruins of Shella, an ancient and very sacred town, in which are curiously combined the traces of Roman and old Moorish occupation. Until lately, all access to this spot for Jews or Christians has been forbidden, so very little is known about the ruins; and from the extensive repairs effected by El Mansor about the year 1190, it is sometimes difficult for an unskilled eye to distinguish between the different styles. The traces of Roman work which were most apparent was a row of vaulted arches, about four yards across their opening, but which were more than one-half filled in by stones and débris, and a narrow stone aqueduct, which still conveys the waters of a spring through the ruins. The arches do not appear in the photograph, but are just beyond and below the square tower on the right hand, while the watercourse was farther away still to the south-east.

From remains which have been found at Rabât, including the head of an ancient statue, life-size, which was discovered a few years ago in the foundations of the French Consul’s house, it is evident that Shella increased gradually towards Rabât, and that these two towns are the “exact equivalent of the Sala Colonia of the Itinerary.”[84] There are some very perfect Arabic inscriptions on tombstones in the ruined mosque, one of which is descriptive of the piety and virtues of a lady saint; the date of this is 750 of the Hegira (about A.D. 1370), and it tells us how the deceased lady “died in the night of Saturday the 4th of the month Rajab, and was buried after the prayer of Friday beside the tomb of our lord, El Mansor. May God perpetuate her magnificent works and brilliant actions,” &c. &c. I am quite of opinion that “de mortuis nil nisi bonum” should be said, but some of the anecdotes relating to Latter-Day Saints of the feminine gender in Marocco would hardly tally with the virtues inscribed on the Shella tombstone. About half-way between Shella and Rabât stands the tower of Hassan, and adjacent to it a ruined mosque. These also were built in the twelfth century in El Mansor’s reign. We landed on our way up the river to look at them, and admired the enormous proportions of the minaret, which is square, of the same thickness all the way up, and said to be 180 feet in height. The same architect built the tower of El Kutubia in Marocco, and the Giralda in Seville, which latter is ascended by the same means as the one here, viz. an inclined plane.

The tower of Hassan has lasted well, and shows the superiority of the Moorish workmen in former days, but about two-thirds up it bears signs of having been struck by lightning. The mosque close by must have been a building of great extent, its roof having been supported—so Jackson (1809) and others tell us—by 360 columns of marble. Many of these are to be seen lying about the place, partly buried in the ground, and none apparently in their original positions. From Shella we walked back to Rabât, being anxious to buy some of the famous rugs made there, and arrived in time for the afternoon sale from four to six, which takes place whenever they have any for disposal. The sellers run up and down the streets, with the rug on their arm, shouting the price, and noting the offers of intending purchasers as they pass. We stood in the hall of the Vice-Consul’s house, which is at the end of a passage connecting it with the street, and every now and then a carpet-seller would rush down the lane and into the hall, shout out to what figure the price had risen, then taking our bid, would run out again to the street, being followed in quick succession by one or two more. Whether or not they may have received some imaginary offers in the street to raise the price before returning, I cannot say; but we had no reason to complain of what we paid for the few very pretty rugs we purchased. We leave here to-morrow, the 18th, for Mehdía, our two days’ halt having been acceptable alike to man and beast.