Page images
PDF
EPUB

the strange sight of dozens of prisoners at liberty could be seen there on any day. Raisuli showed all the qualities required by a strong Governor in Morocco, but unfortunately he overdid it. For him there existed no treaties. His and his representatives' actions during the last few months of his governorship are well known. The flogging of protected natives, the cutting off of the electric light, the blackmailing of Europeans, the destruction of property-a long list of acts of unbearable tyranny.

At length the representatives of the European Powers could endure it no longer. They addressed a collective Note to the Moorish Minister of Foreign Affairs at Fez, demanding that an end be made to the impossible state of affairs existing in the Tangier districts. It was almost an ultimatum, for the bay was full of the warships of France and Spain, present to protect European interests until the introduction of the new police. The Sultan and his Viziers could not misunderstand the purport of this Note. The Minister of War was ordered to proceed to Tangier with all available forces.

Early in January 1907 the troops that had arrived from Fez were camped not many miles from Raisuli's stronghold, waiting for orders to attack. News was brought to me that this attack would take place two days later, on Saturday, 6th January, and it was still dark when that morning,

at a very early hour, I left Tangier on horseback with three trusted Moors to see what I could of it. I had clothed myself in the flowing dress of a trooper of Moorish irregular cavalry, as I knew that orders had been issued to prevent Europeans approaching the spot, and also so as to be able to move about the scene of action without attracting notice. Before we had emerged into the open country we had passed no less than six outposts of some twenty-five men each, for the Makhzen authorities had been taking great precautions to protect the town; but even the clattering of our horses' shoes upon the paved roads failed to wake a single man from the deep slumber in which they were lying inside their tents. At dawn we were a good many miles away, but we had time to spare, and rode slowly, realising that a long day lay before us; and it was seven o'clock before, from the point of a low hill, the camp of the Shereefian troops was visible in the plain below us. A mile to our left was the famous hill of Zinat, with its rocky crests and precipices, and its steep lower slopes stretching down to the plain, at places dotted with olive groves. Set in the midst of this background stood Raisuli's stronghold, a large rambling building, halffort, half-house, with windows dotted irregularly about its front, and here and there a battlemented tower rising above the rest of the roof

a strong building in a very strong position. Away behind Zinat and in front of us rose the higher peaks of the Beni Masour Mountains, range beyond range, until bounding the eastern horizon they were overtopped by the snow-clad summits of Peni Hassan. There were no signs of the coming struggle at that moment. Cattle were feeding near the little villages on the plain, and thin white smoke, hanging heavily in the bright air, issued from the thatched roofs and tents of the plains people as they cooked their breakfasts. In the Shereefian camp there was some movement, and near Raisuli's stronghold his followers could be seen strolling about, while the smoking chimneys of his house bespoke the fact that they too were preparing their breakfasts.

It was nine o'clock before the scene changed. Clear in the still air a bugle rang out in the camp. They must have heard it away at Zinat, for suddenly from the summit of the rocks above Raisuli's fortress a long thin column of white smoke arose, then another and another, and then from peak to peak as far as the eye could reach the fires were answered. The mountaineers were signalling to one another that the great battle was imminent. Down in the camp below us the infantry were falling in" and the cavalrymen mounting their horses, and it was only a few minutes later when, with the

[ocr errors]

beating of drums and the blowing of bugles, the neighing of horses and the fluttering of coloured banners and flags, the Shereefian troops marched out on to the plain. A hoarse shout arose from every throat, "Ah! salih en-Nebi, Rasoul Allah!" an invocation to the Prophet, repeated again and again, and answered by a faraway and fainter cry of the same words from the fortress and rocks of Zinat.

Once all the troops are out on the plain they are drawn up in formation for the attack. On the right are the artillery, two field-guns, and a couple of Maxims, carried by mules. Near them, amidst a panoply of banners, ride the Commander-in-Chief and his Staff, a group of a hundred or so persons well mounted and gaily dressed, with their bright saddles of every variety of coloured cloth and silk adding to a scene already brilliantly picturesque. In the centre are some 800 infantry with a strong support of tribal cavalry, while on the left a somewhat smaller force forms the flank. The contingent of loyal mountaineers, in their short black cloaks, can be seen already scaling some low hills away on the extreme right. Then slowly the whole army advances.

It is a moment of thrilling excitement. From the rocky hill where I had taken up my point of vantage the whole scene was passing at my very feet. On my left the fortress and rocks; on my right the

slowly advancing forces, the left flank within a hundred yards or so of where I stood. At Zinat there is not a sign of life, though with my glasses I can see the glint of rifle barrels in the embrasures of the house, and now and then amongst the precipices and rocks above it. The troops are within 1200 yards now, and in the open, but still advancing slowly, for the most part in close formation, and offering even at that range-a long one for the Moors, who are proverbial bad shots-an excellent target. The sunlit air is so still that every little sound rises unbroken from the plain below: a word of command here, a bugle-call there. Then suddenly the firing opens from Zinat-the quick nervous spitting of the Mauser riflesrendered the more impressive from the fact that nothing can be seen, for there is not a single man there who does not use smokeless powder. A few Askaris are seen to fall, killed or wounded, and the advance ceases. The whole army replies, firing at an impossible range into a solid fort and still more solid precipice with rifles that have only only reached Morocco after they have long been discarded as useless in Europe, and with powder that issues, evil-looking and evil-smelling, from the barrels of their weapons. After all, it made little difference where they fired, for few or none had ever handled a rifle before, and there was nothing

to shoot at. Meanwhile the cavalry galloped to and fro in every direction, except to advance, waving flags and firing their rifles, apparently at the green plover that swept over in flocks, disturbed by the unusual racket.

Inane impotent warfare, carried on by undisciplined and uncourageous men, whose uniforms alone bespoke them as soldiers.

A curl of thin yellow smoke, widening as it ascended, rises from the rocks far above the house-the first shell fired by the artillery, followed by another and another, which, although aimed at the house itself, fall in widely different directions, more than once nearer the Makhzen troops than the enemy. During the entire action of this Saturday, although the range was only about 1000 metres, the house was only struck twice, and even the explosion of these two shells did not force the defenders to abandon the flat roof and windows, though they cannot have failed to be effective. Meanwhile the troops on the left, under the cover of the rocks, had entered and burned a village out of Raisuli's line of fire, and were returning toward the camp laden with loot, under the impression that their duty for the day was over. Nor did any one attempt to persuade them to re-enter the fight, and I watched them disappear staggering under huge mattresses, chests of painted wood-the dowry of every

mountain ever since the morning, to the imminent danger of their advancing comrades.

Moorish bride-and a thousand firing at that range at the other household articles. For a background, the burning village, the flames of which rose lurid and roaring into the still air and passed away in great rolls of heavy white smoke.

From one to two o'clock the firing slackened, but at the latter hour another attempt was made to advance. The whole line pushed forward, but 700 or 800 yards from Zinat they broke and-well, if they did not exactly run, they certainly returned very quickly. It was at this moment that two picturesque incidents occurred. From Raisuli's house emerged a woman who, crossing the open ground under a heavy fire, mounted upon a rock and thence cursed the troops. She threw back her thick "haik" and, tearing her hair, waved her arms towards heaven, but the firing drowned her voice. Then slowly and majestically she drew her veil around her and retired. A few seconds later eight men, no doubt encouraged by her bravery, rushed into the open ground, shouting and jeering at the retiring forces, and firing the while with their Mausers. It was then that the Commander-in-Chief fell wounded in the neck. A mule was brought, and, supported by his retinue, he was hurriedly taken back to the camp. By this time the army had used up all their shells and nearly all their cartridges. Even a reserve force, hidden in a riverbed a mile in the rear, had been

The army was now retiring in good order followed by Raisuli's eight men, who every now and then sped a parting shot at them. The battle at Zinat was over. The great effort of the Makhzen had failed, and the stronghold and village, except for a few holes made by the shells, stood as placid and peaceful in appearance as it had been in the morning. The great Shereefian army had proved itself to be -like everything else in Morocco, except perhaps Raisuli himself—a gigantic bluff.

It was well on in the afternoon now, and the scene of the fight was deserted. I crept up a little gully to within 400 or 500 yards of the house, and peeping from between the rocks, I took a long view with my glasses. On the green sward in front of the house stood a man holding a pair of glasses to his eyes. On either side of him were a few retainers. He stood silent and still, watching the retreating army. It was Raisuli.

At dawn on Sunday morning I was back again in the hills near Zinat. Never did the sun rise over a more peaceful scene or one more serenely beautiful. Peak after peak, many touched with snow, turned pink and gold as the first rays of the rising sun touched their summits. At Zinat itself all was quiet. A little blue smoke, the

smoke of wood fire, arose from the chimneys of Raisuli's house, in front of which half a dozen mountaineers were warming themselves over a small bonfire.

It was nine o'clock before the troops left the camp, and deploying in much the same formation as the day before, advanced across the plain. But their numbers were increased, for reinforcements had been hurriedly sent by night from Tangier, and fresh contingents of loyal mountaineers had turned up in force. But what was still more important was the addition of one man, an Algerian artillery officer attached to the Sultan's service by the French Government, whose shooting with the fieldguns at Taza and Oujda had largely saved the situation at both places. It had been the intention of the Makhzen to send him on Saturday, but owing to his being a French subject they decided not to do so, as in their own consideration any one to do with France was at this period a person to be avoided. Their folly lost them the day. Had Si Abderrahman ben Sedira been behind the guns on Saturday, Raisuli's house, and probably Raisuli and most of his followers, would have been destroyed. The proof, if one were needed, is this. He accomplished more destruction with the two shells he fired at the fortress on Sunday morning than in the 130 shots fired on Saturday. A general advance toward

Zinat was commenced a little before two, and the two shells above mentioned were fired from the field-guns. There was no reply from the house or from the rocks above it. Already the troops were considerably nearer than they had ever got the previous day. A little hesitation was visible, for no doubt the soldiers imagined that they were being allowed to approach to within an easy and certain range. The left were well ahead, led by Raisuli's late Calipha, more royalist than the King nowadays, who was followed close by his contingent of the Fahs tribe. Three hundred yards only now separated them from the village. With a wild shout and a volley from their rifles the cavalry charged. Over the rising ground they passed, a brilliant flash of colour, and never drew rein till they were at Raisuli's door.

The house and village were empty. Then began a scene of pandemonium. Askaris, horsemen, and tribal contingents rushed upon the castle, and the wildest looting commenced. Other bands, intent upon pillage, ransacked the neighbouring houses. In a few minutes flames burst forth from the thatched roofs of the surrounding huts. The flames spread, and in as short a space of time as it takes to write it the whole village was ablaze. The strong wind drove the heavy smoke in huge clouds across the face of the mountain, and in half an hour all that was left of Zinat were the

« PreviousContinue »