Chapter I: With Drummond Hay in Tunis

Though the midday sun still shone bright and hot, I sat at my ease and breathed again in the pleasant atmosphere of a cool drawing-room, from which the stifling air and the flies were excluded by closely drawn blinds.

I had just arrived from Tunis by rail, over the scorching hot plain, and past the milky-white shallow lagoon known as the Lake of Tunis. Beyond Goletta the blue hills seemed to quiver beneath the rays of the sun, and my eyes were blinded by the dazzling white walls of the cathedral standing on the heights, where, in olden days, Byrsa, the fortress of Carthage, stood, defying the invader and the storm.

As we sped over the traces of the mighty circular wall, which formerly enclosed the town, I caught a glimpse of a white roof amongst the green trees of a wood, and requested the conductor to stop the train at the English Consul’s summer abode.

Down a pretty shady avenue I walked to the white summer palace, with its beautiful columned portico, the finest in all Tunisia.

It is a proud name that my host bears,—a name associated with unfailing honour in the history of Morocco. His late father, Sir J. H. Drummond Hay, as England’s Representative, practically led Morocco’s policy during the past forty years. He represented Denmark also, and under him his son won his diplomatic spurs.

My host had invited me that we might quietly arrange a plan for my intended expedition to visit the Berber tribes of Tunisia.

I was aware that in the south-west mountains of the Sahara I should meet with Berbers of a pure race such as are scarcely to be found elsewhere. Our country’s excellent Representative, Consul Cubisol, had procured me a French permit for the journey, without which it would be difficult for a lonely traveller to visit regions unfrequented by Europeans.

In the spring, Drummond Hay had made a tour on horseback over the greater part of Southern Tunisia; he was therefore acquainted, not only with the localities, but also with several of the native chiefs who would be able to assist me. He understands the people and their country thoroughly, for he speaks Arabic like a native, and is quite conversant with the life, opinions, manners, and customs of the inhabitants. His wife had travelled far and wide with him in Morocco when he was serving under his father, and accompanied him to the capital of Morocco; so she also is well versed in Oriental life.

Together we traced the plan of my journey, which, in the main, I afterwards followed. Here I will not anticipate what I shall relate later; only premising this—that I owe first and foremost to Drummond Hay the fact of having comprised in my journey those regions which no traveller has as yet described. To him I was also afterwards indebted for the elucidation and explanation of what I had seen and heard.

Both my host and hostess had resided for many years in Stockholm, when Drummond Hay was Consul there. The north has great attractions for them, as Drummond Hay’s mother was a Dane, a Carstensen, being daughter of the last Danish Consul-General at Tangier.

England has great interests in Tunis, not only directly on account of the many Maltese living there under British protection, but also indirectly, more especially since the French settled in the country; it will therefore be understood that the post of British Representative is one of confidence.