Chapter XVI: Back to Tunis

In the course of the night a telegram arrived, ordering Dr. Cultin to return with me next day to Medinin, as his colleague had been suddenly seized with fever and was very ill.

We were a little late in starting, and the sun was scorching hot. Followed by our two Spahis and a led horse, which bore my purchases from the Tuareg, we hurried homewards.

After a halt near Bir el Ahmer, where we breakfasted, and where a fresh horse awaited me, our progress was rapid.

But it was after nightfall when we reached Medinin. Outside the camp we met the lieutenant of the Spahis, who said that the doctor was worse, and was about to be sent in a carriage to Gabés.

Dr. Cultin hurried away to his sick comrade, and I dismounted at the quarters of the commandant, who came galloping in to receive me, and invited me to a splendid dinner with some of the officers.

I need scarcely mention that I expressed my thanks in the warmest terms for the brilliant reception I had received, and for my memorable trip to the southernmost military stations.

I was offered a horse for an expedition to Zarsis and the island of Jerba, but had to decline with many thanks, as my time was limited.

After a comfortable breakfast with the infantry officers, I bade my friends farewell before the commandant’s house, and, waving my hat in a final salute, rode off to Gabés.

Commandant Billet accompanied me nearly as far as Metamer, where we parted.

“Should you ever go to Rhadamés by way of Tripoli and return by this route, you would be heartily welcome, and this would certainly be your best way home,” said the commandant.

I replied that should the journey ever be attempted by me, Medinin would have a great attraction for me, and thanked him heartily for all his kindness.

Then I rode with my Spahi towards the camp at Metamer, where the lieutenant on guard came out and invited me in.

After a short halt, I continued in a north-westerly direction along the foot of the mountain of the signal station, and thence by a hilly country north; the Matmata mountains lying to the west of us, and the plain to the east.

On both the plain and the hills I saw ruined Roman remains. We also passed a spot where a few soldiers were encamped for the purpose of digging a well, and as we ascended a hill saw a vehicle come swinging towards us. Before it rode a red Spahi, behind it another. The carriage was a heavy box on four wheels, and had an awning over it; it was drawn by four mules, and two soldiers acted as postillions. From within peeped a woman’s face. It was a captain’s wife who had taken advantage of the opportunity of going _viâ_ Medinin to visit her husband at Zarsis—the carriage being on its way to fetch the sick doctor.

It was nearly sunset, and I urged on my horse to avoid arriving late at the little caravansarai where we were to spend the night.

Soon it became so dark that the horses stumbled on the rough road, and we had to slacken to a walk. For a long time we saw nothing but each other’s dim figures and heard only the tramp of our horses.

At last, at the village of Aram, lights shone and dogs barked as we passed amongst its palms.

After riding in the still night about an hour longer, we again heard dogs barking and saw lights. We were then near the oasis of Marath, where, having ridden fully twenty miles, we were to rest some hours and start again at sunrise for Gabés.

In the caravansarai—which resembled that of Bir el Ahmer—a Spahi from Gabés awaited me with a fresh horse.

The lights in the house streamed from the rooms into the courtyard. Within were some soldiers, who had bivouacked round about a candle placed on the floor. They came out, received our horses and conducted me to an officer’s room. Four bare walls; raised on masonry was a sloping plank-bed which extended along the inner wall; besides this there was a table and a bench.

A native, who was in charge of the place, I sent to the oasis to buy me some candles. The soldiers eagerly offered to lend me, till his return, their little taper stuck in a bottle.

The Spahis then laid the table, and I dined, after first dividing with them and the soldiers the eatables with which I had been so sumptuously provided, for no one knows better than I do how a small extra ration tends to put a soldier into good-humour. I have not forgotten the old days in South Oran when I was myself a mere private.

The Spahis and the four soldiers drew up in line at the table, and I began the distribution—bread and dates to the Mohammedans, and wine to the soldiers, which I poured into the tin mugs they held out to me, and to whom I gave also bread and meat.

“Right about face, march!” I gave the order involuntarily, and the troop at once vanished through the door.

Soon the sound of gay voices singing reached my ear from the adjoining room.

When I had finished my repast I lit a cigarette and took a turn through the courtyard to have a look at the horses, which still stood saddled and had not yet been either fed or watered, they were so overheated from their journey.

Having given orders that they were to be unsaddled, fed, and watered, I returned, and, lying on the bed, listened to the singing.

I had rested but a short while when a smart soldier entered, and, with his hand to his cap, asked if he and his comrades might enliven the evening for me, as if so, they would come in.

I agreed willingly; so they came in, each carrying his mug, and sat on the ground facing me.

After I had questioned them, asking each where he hailed from, and had talked with them about a soldier’s life in the desert—a life I also knew something of—I asked them to sing; then the usual barrack ballads with comic choruses woke the still night. Afterwards I chatted again a little with them, refilled their mugs which they emptied, wishing me a happy journey, and then withdrew.

I wrapped myself in my burnous and slept, but was disturbed, first by the stamping of the horses, and later by the noise of some carts being yoked in the yard.

Before it was light next morning I was broad awake. The soldiers made and brought me some coffee that I drank with relish, and it was just daybreak when, wrapped in my burnous, I got into my saddle, after having inscribed my name in the register. The soldiers stood at attention and saluted as I bade them farewell and thanked them for the songs they sang for me, while they, in return, wished me a happy journey.

Our road was towards the north through the palm groves of the lowland, where we now and again crossed the dry beds of torrents that began in the mountains.

After a couple of hours we traversed the Ketena oasis, leaving other palm groves on one side.

Here the level of the country rose a little, and far away on the northern horizon we could see the palm forests that lie south of Gabés, and now and again caught a glimpse in the east of the sunlit surface of the Mediterranean.

Presently the temperature became very sultry, and a hot wind rose, which whirled the sand in our eyes. This was the sirocco.

When we reached the high ground, where stands the Marabout’s tomb of “Sid Hamed ben-Habib,” and had passed its palms, we saw, through dust clouds and flying sand, Gabés, looking like a white riband in the distance, while behind us the palms of the oasis waved in a long unbroken line from east to west.

Soon after, we arrived, both tired and thirsty, at Gabés.

In the afternoon, when I was busy packing into cases all the weapons, ornaments, and costumes I had collected in the country, Arab visitors were announced.

This was no less than the Khalifa of El Hamma, “the mild, friendly” Khalifa, accompanied by three of the Matmata mountain sheikhs. They had heard that I was in the town and wished to greet me.

Their visit pleased me much, as a token of a friendly feeling on the part of the natives.

I found seats for them all to the best of my ability—the Khalifa on the bed, one of the sheikhs on a low chest, another on the floor, and a third on a chair; and then Moorish coffee and cigarettes were served.

The conversation turned on my late experiences, and I thanked them for their hospitality and received the reply—

“You will always be welcome amongst us.”

“I am now going home,” I said, “but perhaps some day I may return, and then, my friends, I will seek you, and we may shoot wild boar in the mountains towards El Hamma. Is it not so, Khalifa?”

“As you will, Sidi. We have horses and men, and nothing you need shall be wanting,” he replied with charming courtesy.

When later in the day I paid a farewell visit to Captain Simon at the Bureau Arabe, I found the office crammed full of Arabs, who had been summoned from the mountains.

As I pushed my way through them I caught sight of first one, then other faces that I recognised. In short, nearly all these brown-skinned chiefs with dark eyes and black beards were known to me, and each and all stretched out their hands in greeting.

“How is this?” said the captain. “Do you know the whole of them?”

“Yes, indeed,” I answered with pride; “they are my friends from the mountains.”

On the 2nd November I left for the north by the steamer _Isac Pèrere_. My good Hamed helped me faithfully with my packing and the embarkation of my numerous cases, and his figure was the last that I could distinguish on the pierhead.

The _Isac Pèrere_ crept slowly north, and reached Tunis in four days. Life on board was pleasant enough, for there were several officers with us, but, being so long accustomed to ride daily, I missed my exercise.

We lay before Sfax for one day. The cavalry officers of the garrison there came out in a boat to call on Colonel Gousset and on us, dined on board, and amused themselves with their comrades, or fished for small fry from the deck or the accommodation ladder of the ship. To visit these ships twice a week is their chief distraction. The sight of fresh faces and the chance of hearing some news give a little zest to their dull lives.

At Monastir the same happened, but here the callers were officers of the Tirailleurs, and their visit was evidently intended for a newly promoted captain of their battalion, lately detailed for service at Gabés, whence he was now on his way to Tunis to meet his wife.

It so happened that he, as a young lieutenant, had served in South Oran through the same campaign, but not in the same detachment, as myself, so we had many amusing recollections in common, and were soon good friends.

At Susa he invited me to land and visit his comrades, but I was prevented doing so by the quarantine imposed on account of the cholera then prevalent.

Generally these quarantine regulations were utterly senseless. The officials and the functionaries connected with shipping who came on board were allowed to do so without being disinfected, whereas the passengers from the ship who wished to land had to undergo that process.

A lieutenant of the Tirailleurs, who had come from Kairwan and was on his way to Tunis, came on board. He told me of the frightful heat in the country during the past summer. Yet he absolutely preferred residing in the interior rather than on the coast, the heat not being so distressing there and the air purer and fresher, whereas the damp heat of the coast was almost unbearable.

At Kairwan the temperature might rise as high as 120° Fahrenheit, but one could rub along pretty tolerably, though it was difficult to sleep at night. Want of sleep is, without doubt, the worst effect of this climate, as it weakens and destroys the nervous system.

I had informed the Danish Consul at Goletta, by letter, when I should arrive, as he was of opinion that it would be right for me to call on the French Minister Resident, Rouvier, who had just returned from France; and also on the Bey, to thank them for the brilliant receptions and the support afforded me in consequence of their orders to the authorities to assist me.

At Susa I received a telegram to the effect that the Minister Resident would receive me next morning at nine o’clock, and would afterwards conduct me to the Bey.

“Shall we arrive in time at Tunis?” I asked the captain. He hoped for the best.

Steaming along the beautiful mountainous coast in the early morning hours was enchanting. To our left lay the mountains near Hamman-lif; before us were the white walls of Goletta; and to the right the cathedral on the ruins of Carthage; Marsa, and the villas on the sea-coast. Beyond Goletta, we could see, across the shining surface of the lake, the white houses of Tunis and, behind them, the blue mountains.

At eight o’clock we passed through the canal and steamed up the lake to Tunis, but it was slow work, for care has to be taken not to stir up the water; so working a ship in this harbour takes time; it was therefore twenty minutes to nine before I landed, after having taken leave of Colonel Gousset and the other officers.

A carriage took me full speed to the hotel, where I found my luggage and hurriedly changed my clothes.

I kept my appointment punctually to the moment.