Chapter X: Introduction (7)

Before dashing into the _mêlée_, the leaders address to their followers a few impassioned words: "Listen. Let no one think of despoiling the women, driving off the horses, entering the tents, or alighting for purposes of plunder, before taking many lives. Bear in mind that we have to do with 'children of sin,' who will defend themselves vigourously. These people have butchered our brethren. No mercy! Kill! Kill! if you desire at the same time to take revenge and the goods of your enemies. I tell you again they will not give these up to you without a struggle." The _goum_ then breaks up into three or four bands, with a view to strike terror into the assailed from several different quarters at the same time. As soon as they are within range they open fire, but not a cry is uttered until their fire-arms have made themselves heard.

These _razzias_ are for the most part frightful scenes of carnage. The men, taken off their guard, are nearly all put to the sword, but the women are merely stripped of their clothing and jewels. If time permit, the victors carry off with them the tents, the negroes, the horses, and the flocks, leaving the women and the children, for in the desert no one ever burdens himself with prisoners. On their return the flocks are committed to the custody of a few horsemen, while the others form themselves into a strong rearguard to cover the retreat. On reaching the _douar_, the combatants divide among themselves the flocks and the booty captured without personal risk, and give to the sheikh, over and above his share, thirty or forty ewes, or three or four camels, as the case may be, besides bestowing a special gratuity on the horsemen who were sent forward as scouts.

Previous to attempting an enterprise of this kind each tribe places itself under the protection of a particular marabout to whom it is in the habit of applying in difficult circumstances. In the eyes of the Saharene, to plunder an enemy, though an incident of no uncommon occurrence, is an affair by no means devoid of solemnity. It is thus that the tribe of the Arbâa regard as their regular and accredited marabout Sidi-Hamed-ben-Salem-Ould-Tedjiny. A successful _razzia_ is celebrated by great rejoicings. In each tent an _ouadâa_, or feast, is prepared in honour of the marabouts, to which are invited the poor, the _tolbas_, or men of letters, the widows, the farriers, and the free negroes.

The _tehha_ is usually achieved with five or six hundred horses, and not unfrequently foot-soldiers accompany the expedition, mounted on camels. Sometimes the tribe that is to be attacked has received timely warning, and been able to adopt measures for defence. The horses are saddled, the arms ready to the hand. A combat takes place, instead of a massacre, and many fall on both sides. The assailants, however, have usually the advantage, as they are not embarrassed with women and children like their adversaries; and it rarely happens that they return home without booty.

Perhaps I cannot do better than reproduce in this place one of those popular chaunts which so well depict the rage and the varying fortune of these bloody struggles, that generally originate in love or jealousy.

My horse is whiter than snow,
Whiter than the winding-sheet of men;
He will bound like a gazelle,
And will bear me to the tent of thy father.

O Yamina, fools are they who foster thy pride,
Greater fools they who tell me to forget thee!
Would that I were the pin[70] of thy _haïk_;
A lock of thy black hair,
The _meroueud_[71] that blackens thy eyes,
Or, still better, the carpet thou tramplest under foot.

I watered my horse at the fountain-head,
Then lightly leaped on his back.
My _chabir_ are glued to his flanks,
And I have faith in my arms as I have faith in my own heart
They betrayed me for the moon of my soul,
But time shall betray them also.

By Allah, O ye vultures!
Why hover ye in the air?
I ask of Allah to grant us one of those bloody combats,
In which every one can die in health and not of disease.
You will pass days and nights in gorging yourselves!
Our lives and those of our horses,
Do they not belong to our maidens?

Away, strangers, away!
Leave the flowers of our plains
To the bees of the country.
Away, strangers, away!

O the generous One! Behold, then, the night
In which our _goums_ shall burn powder
Close to the very _douar_ of Yamina,
While the women are yet without their girdles,

And the horses have iron fastenings on their feet,
Before the _aâtatouche_[72] has been placed on the backs of
camels,
And the horsemen have drawn on their _temag_.
Grant that I may receive seven balls in my burnous,
Seven balls in my steed,
And that I may place seven[73] in the body of my rival.
The best of all loves is that which causes gnashing of teeth.

Strike out, young men, strike out![74]
The bullets do not slay;
It is fate alone that takes life.
Strike out, young men, strike out!

The horse of Kaddour is dead, the horse of Kaddour is dead!
Publish it through your tribes, for they will rejoice at it;
But, if you are not Jews,
Add that, bleeding and wounded,
He was able to save his master and bear him out of the _mêlée_.
He was not one to be false to his ancestors,
Never had he been trained to flee,
He knew only how to throw himself on the foe.
Merouan is dead for Yamina—his days were counted!

O my heart! why art thou so bent
To make the waters flow back to the mountains?
Thou art the madman who giveth chace to the sun!
Believe me; cease to love a woman
Who will never say to thee, Yes.
The seed sown in a _sebkha_[75]
Will never produce ears of corn.

THE KHROTEFA.

The object of the _razzia_ called _khrotefa_ is to carry off a flock of camels grazing at a distance of seven or eight leagues from the tribe. From a hundred and fifty to two hundred horsemen join together as "a knot" and set out on the expedition. The reconnaissance is conducted in the same manner as for the _tehha_, only the arrangements are made with a view to arrive at the appointed spot towards _el aasseur_—three or four in the afternoon—and not at the _fedjeur_, or dawn of day.

When the _razzia_ has been accomplished, and four, five, or six _ybal_—or flocks of one hundred camels each—have been driven off, they divide into two parties. The one, consisting of the weakest horses, goes forward with the booty, while the other forms a sort of rearguard whose duty it is, if necessary, to make head against the enemy. After appointing a rendez-vous for the morrow, the parties separate; but, in order to throw out the pursuers, those who are to check the enemy follow a different path to that taken by the drivers of the flocks.

In these forays the shepherds are usually spared; nor do they, indeed, take much trouble to defend property that does not belong to them. But the noise and shouting soon give the alarm. Every one saddles his horse and gallops forward; then they halt and rally, and finally appear in force upon the ground. Here again the assailants have every chance in their favour. They are on the look-out, and ready to receive the enemy. Their horses have had time to rest, while those of the tribe that has been plundered are exhausted and blown. Musket shots are nevertheless exchanged, but night supervenes; and, as soon as the darkness has thickened so that "the eye begins to grow black," the plunderers decamp and go off at full gallop to rejoin their comrades, whom they overtake at sunrise. The pursuit lasts but a short time. The conviction that the camels cannot be recovered, and the fear of falling into an ambuscade, soon induce the plundered tribe to return to their tents.

Although the actual fighting incidental to this kind of expedition is devoid of animation and soon interrupted by nightfall, they who take part in it do not the less run considerable risk. A horseman may receive a wound sufficiently severe to disable him from continuing his march. In that case he is lost, unless he happen to be a personage of distinction, for then he is certain not to be deserted. Some strong, vigourous fellow takes charge of him, lifts him up, places him across his saddle, and carries him home dead or alive. As for slight wounds, with the Arab saddle they do not give much trouble, nor do they prevent the return to the _goum_. On rejoining the tribe, the spoils are divided among those who shared in the _khrotefa_.

THE TERBIGUE.

In a _terbigue_ not more than fifteen to twenty horsemen make "a knot," and propose to drive off the flocks from the very middle of a _douar_. They send some of their party to reconnoitre the tribe, and arrive close to the tents on one of the darkest nights. An isolated _douar_ is selected, to which they approach as near as two or three hundred paces. Three of them dismount and stop, while one goes round to the opposite side, and makes a noise to attract the attention of the dogs. The people of the tribe fancy it is a passing hyæna, or a jackal, and take no notice of it. In the meanwhile the two other robbers penetrate into the interior of the _douar_, loosen the fastenings of ten, fifteen, or twenty camels, according as fortune favours them, and knock their shoes together, to frighten the liberated animals and cause them to run away. They then make off as quickly as they can, rejoin their horses, and all assist in collecting the scattered camels. After that they separate into two bands, one of which conducts the captured animals, while the others, lagging a little behind, allow themselves to be pursued in a different direction. If by chance they have succeeded in letting loose the _faâle_, or stallion, their success is certain, for all the females strive to follow him.

Since, in these operations, the secret is generally well kept, they seldom fail, nor are accidents at all common. Should the _douar_ be on its guard, the attacking party at once retires. They who venture upon such enterprises are usually well mounted, and speedily escape from a pursuit that is rendered almost impossible by the obscurity which effaces all traces and inspires dread of ambush. For a _razzia_ of this sort, they do not hesitate to go thirty or forty leagues.

Sometimes incidents of a grotesque nature characterise the _terbigue_. When a party of horsemen does not care to leave a reserve to fight the enemy, they conceal themselves in an ambuscade seven or eight hundred steps from the _douar_; while the most experienced robber of the band strips himself naked, and, taking only his sword with him and tying his shoes to his head to look like enormous ears, penetrates into the _douar_. He carries in his hand an old saddle-bow, which he shakes in all directions, every now and striking the earth. To this dull sound he joins cries of alarm and terror: "The _goum_! the _goum_! up! up! We are betrayed!" The clamour, the jumping about, the strange aspect of the individual, and the noise of the saddle which he keeps on shaking, strike terror into the animals. Horses, sheep, and camels rush pell-mell out of the _douar_, and are caught by the concealed horsemen. The others rush out of their tents, snatch up their guns, and spring into the saddle; but flocks and plunderers are already far away, fleeing at full speed, and protected by the night.

THE KHRIANA, OR THEFT.

The _terbigue_ is, in fact, a robbery, but it is at the same time almost a warlike operation—it is, at least, a _razzia_. The strength of the party that executes the enterprise, the importance of the wrong inflicted upon an entire division of a tribe, the high qualities of the perpetrators of the robbery, who, after all, are real warriors,—all these circumstances taken together, if they do not suffice as a justification in the eyes of scrupulous Europeans, are esteemed in the desert as extremely plausible motives. Since a few brave and reckless fellows have imperilled their lives to injure a hostile tribe, there cannot be otherwise than joy and triumph in that to which they belong.

In the _khriana_, however, we descend a step lower, and arrive at a mere marauding expedition, executed by professional thieves. It is no longer war, even in miniature—it is nothing more than theft. It is no longer a subject of rejoicing for a whole tribe, though still a matter for praise and congratulation among friends; always provided the robbery has not been committed on their own or on a friendly tribe—which would be a disgrace—but absolutely on an enemy. They say, "Such a one is a brave man—he robs the enemy." As may readily be imagined, all thefts are not managed in the same manner, but are adapted to the nature of the capture that is proposed to be made.

HORSE-STEALING.

This species of theft is practised towards the end of the Mussulman month. When the moon is scarcely visible, five or six men, having a proper understanding between themselves, take a supply of provisions with them in their wallets, and go forth in search of adventures. Before starting, they give alms to the poor, and intreat them to intercede with Allah for the success of their enterprise. They then swear by some well-known marabout, generally Sidi Abd-el-Kader, that, if they succeed, they will do him homage by putting aside a portion for the unfortunate. "O Sidi Abd-el-Kader," they exclaim, "if we return with joy, loaded with spoils and free from accident, we will give thee thy lance's share, if it please Allah!"

On leaving the _douar_ the robbers travel in broad daylight, but, as they approach the tribe they propose to rob, they proceed only at night, and conceal themselves, when two or three leagues from the tents, in the bed of a river, or among the herbage, or in the mountains. As soon as the darkness has become dense, they issue from their hiding-place and try the different _douars_ one after the other, stopping at last at that which seems the least securely guarded, and where the dogs are the least wakeful. If the robbers are six in number, four of them remain about fifty paces from the _douar_, silent and motionless, while the two others, the most daring and adroit, make their way into the interior. Before separating, they agree upon a pass-word; and then the two thieves go to work. If they find the dogs on the watch, they return for a third companion, whom they station a little way off, in front of the tent guarded by the vigilant dogs, and they themselves enter the _douar_ from another quarter. They agree upon the tent they propose to rob; and while one of them, called the _gaad_, remains as a sentinel beside it, the other, the _hammaze_, pushes on to the horses. If the latter comes upon a horse or a mare, fastened only by leather thongs ropes, he unties or cuts the knot, seizes the animal by the _goulada_, or necklace of talismans, and leads it to the side opposite to where the dogs are held engaged by the _layahh_,[76] the third accomplice who was stationed for that purpose in front of the tent. The _gaad_ stays behind ready to shoot with a pistol, or to knock down with a stone or stick, the first man who comes out of the tent, and then to mislead the rest by flying in a direction different to that taken by his comrade with the horse. He then rejoins the _layahh_, and the two quickly come up with the _hammaze_, when all three return to their expectant companions. A second robbery is committed, if the _douar_, buried in sleep, has had no suspicion of what was going on; otherwise they prepare for flight. One of them, placing his folded _haïk_ on the back of the horse so as to use it for stirrups, starts forward at a gallop, after naming a rendez-vous for the morrow or the day after. The others, to escape from the pursuit which is sure to be instituted in the morning, hide themselves during the whole of the first night. The one who mounted the horse only continues his flight if the theft has been committed in the first hours of the night; otherwise, he passes the whole of the morrow concealed in a dry and stony spot, where the animal would leave no trace.

Should the fastenings of the horse, instead of being woollen, be of iron, the operation is more difficult. The preliminary arrangements are the same, but, once fairly at work, the _hammaze_ cautiously raises the clog up to the knee, and binds it there with his camel's rope, which he throws round the animal's neck, and leads it out very slowly. As soon as he has rejoined his comrades and is sufficiently far from the scene of his exploits, he bethinks him of giving his prize the liberty that is still wanting. He therefore removes the clog by means of a small saw, or picklock; at the worst he turns the padlock to the outside of the animal's legs and shatters it with a pistol ball, or else fills it with powder and blows it open. The explosion, however, rouses the owners of the animal, who set out in search of it, but nearly always in vain. The night is dark, and the robbers separate; though, if things come to the worst, they abandon their prize to save their lives.

Sometime the master of a tent is troubled by the barking of the dogs, and awakens his people by calling out to them, _El hayi rah hena_, "there is somebody here." They go out, and, finding nothing, they conclude that a hyæna, or a jackal, has occasioned the uproar, and so turn in again. The thieves then come out of their hiding-places, and perhaps proceed to some other _douar_ that is less upon the watch.

In preparing for a _khriana_, each one provides himself with a pistol which he secretes under his burnous, a knife, a thick cudgel with a cord at one end, and a poniard. If a robber fancies that the dogs will distinguish him because of the whiteness of his garments, he leaves them with his comrades, and enters the _douar_ entirely naked, his knife in one hand and the cudgel in the other. It is a popular belief in the Sahara that a man in a complete state of nudity is invisible in a dark night. A vicious horse, or one that is thoroughbred, or entire, is safe from robbers. Their habit of neighing on seeing a man would betray the plunderers. To avoid being scented by the dogs the precaution is taken to stalk up the wind. There are likewise other details which should not be neglected—the absence of moonlight, for instance. The twenty-first of the Mussulman month is the right time for setting out, and the night of the twenty-second is usually the most favourable for the execution of the enterprise. Dust and a high wind are useful allies, but rain is treacherous, for, by moistening the soil so as to retain foot-marks, it favours the pursuit. The cold season is the best for robberies of this character. There is a common saying: "In winter, cattle-stealing, because the dog sleeps in the tent. In summer, theft in the tent, because the dog goes away to sleep."

Like all other Arabs, the robber believes that Allah does not disdain to give him warnings—whence superstitious hopes and fears. If, on leaving the _douar_, he meets a black mare, dirty, lean, and altogether in bad condition, it is an evil omen and he goes back again. Another bad sign is to hear yourself called by people who know not whither you are going. To see two partridges is an auspicious augury, but one by itself portends calamity. To find yourself, on starting, confronted by a cheerful, courageous person, well dressed, and well mounted, infallibly betokens success. An old woman, blind or maimed, and covered with rags, will certainly prevent you from succeeding. Start, however, with perfect confidence, if you have met a beautiful woman, richly dressed, to whom you have said: "Open thy girdle, Fatma, for that will bring us good fortune." She will not refuse to open to you the door to riches. It is equally desirable to see on one's road a woman carrying milk, and to drink a mouthful of it.

On their return, the robbers divide their spoils. The vow made to the marabouts who were invoked is scrupulously fulfilled. The chief of the _douar_, and the woman who opened her girdle, each receives a present. The share that falls to the lot of the _hammaze_ is the largest; for it is he who has played the most important part, and incurred the greatest risks.

CAMEL-STEALING.

Camel-stealing is practised in the same manner as horse-stealing. They choose full grown camels,—or, at least, such as no longer cry—or she-camels with foal. Having removed the clogs, the robbers prick the animal with a poniard or knife to make it go off, and get on its back as soon as they are far enough away from the tents. All that night they travel on, and if at daybreak they do not feel that they have gone sufficiently far to escape the pursuit of horsemen, they halt and conceal themselves in a spot the soil of which does not retain foot-marks. The pursuers give up the chace if they find no traces of the fugitives. In the other event they often recover what they have lost; and, unless the robbers let go their prize and hide themselves, they may pay for their daring with their life.[77] This is the supreme moment for invocations and vows. "O Sidi Abd-el-Kader," cries the robber, on seeing the enemy close at hand, and in dread of discovery, "if thou wilt save us yet this one time, we will make in thy honour an _ouadâa_ for the poor." In the Sahara, Sidi Abd-el-Kader-el-Djilaly is the patron of robbers. This very undesirable patronage is due to the charity of the holy marabout, who shrinks from leaving in trouble those who invoke his name.

SHEEP-STEALING.

Sheep are but a poor prey, and more troublesome than profitable. They walk slowly, and it is impossible to drive them far enough away by the day after the theft. The Arabs, therefore, content themselves with stealing from an enemy, in his absence, to feed themselves while lying in ambush. Nevertheless, the opportunity is sometimes tempting. A flock is seen grazing at a distance from the _douars_. The shepherd is lying down, asleep, or in some other way occupied. It is yet early morning, and there is time to cover a considerable distance before sunset, when the flocks are driven home, and the theft is likely to be discovered. Sometimes, therefore, they risk the hazard. Striking the negligent shepherd a heavy blow on the head with a stick, they throw dust into his eyes, and, tying his hands behind him, draw over his face the hood of his burnous. The robbers then share with one another the task of driving off the flock, broken up into small sections, each taking a separate course, and going slowly at first, but after a while quickening their pace. On the morrow, after traversing none but lonely paths, they meet again at an appointed spot. In an affair of this kind they take the shepherd with them, and set him free only in the middle of the night, when they have nothing more to fear from him.

WAR BETWEEN DESERT TRIBES.

A caravan has been plundered—the women of the tribe have been insulted—the right of water and pasturage has been disputed. These are wrongs which no _razzia_, not even the terrible _tehha_, can sufficiently avenge. The chiefs, therefore, assemble and decide upon war. Then they write to the chiefs of all their allied tribes, and claim their aid. The allies are loyal and faithful—are they not also enemies of the tribe to be chastised? Have they not the same sympathies, the same interests, as those who summon them? Are they not an integral part of the confederation? Not a single tribe will refuse to send a contingent in proportion to its importance. But the allies are distant. They cannot arrive within a week or ten days, and in the meantime counsels are taken, and the passion of the warriors excited by the proclamations of the chiefs:—

"You are warned, O servants of Allah! that we have to exact vengeance from such a tribe that has offered us such or such an insult. Shoe your horses. Supply yourselves with provisions for a fortnight. Forget not the wheat, the barley, the dried meat, and the butter. You must provide not only for your own wants, but also that you may be able to afford a generous hospitality to the horsemen of such and such tribes that are coming to our assistance. Command your prettiest women to hold themselves in readiness to accompany us, and to array themselves in their finest garments, and adorn their camels and litters to the utmost of their power. Do you yourselves also put on your handsomest dresses, for with us it is a matter of _nif_ [self-love]. Keep your arms in good condition. Supply yourselves with powder, and be assembled on such a day at such a spot. The horseman who owns a mare and does not come, the foot-soldier who possesses a gun and stays at home, shall be fined, the former twenty ewes and the latter ten."

Every able-bodied man, though he should have to go on foot, is bound to join in the expedition. Before setting out, the chiefs confide the flocks, tents, and baggage of the tribe to the care of experienced veterans, who are likewise charged to exercise a sort of police supervision over this assembly of women, children, invalids, and shepherds.

The enemy, on their part, likewise make their preparations. Warned by travellers, by friends, and even by relatives whom they claim in the opposite party, they hasten to write in all directions to assemble their allies. Their flocks, tents, and baggage they place in a secure spot, and then assign a rendez-vous to the horsemen with the least possible delay. To guard against a surprise, they select a position suitable for defence, and await whatever may happen. They have not long to wait. The tribe that has taken up arms to avenge itself is very soon on the march, for it has not lost a single moment. On the evening before their departure, all the auxiliary chiefs join those who have summoned them, and, in the presence of the marabouts, take the following oath on the sacred book of Sidi Abd-Allah:—

"O friends! let us swear by the truth of the sacred book of Sidi Abd-Allah that we are brothers, that all our guns shall be as one, and that, in dying, we will all die by the same sabre. If you call us by day, we will come by day, and if you summon us by night, we will hasten to you by night."

Having taken this oath, they arrange to start on the following morning. At the appointed hour a man of high birth, noble among the noblest, mounts on horseback, orders his women, borne on camels, to follow him, and gives the signal. There is a general movement, and all set out. The eye is dazzled by the strange and picturesque confusion, the many-hued crowd of horses, warriors, and camels bearing rich palanquins in which the women are inclosed. Here are the foot-soldiers, who march by themselves—there the horsemen, who superintend the female procession. Others, again, more impetuous and thoughtless, dash on in front or spread out on the flanks, but rather as hunters than as scouts, and with their greyhounds run down the gazelle, the hare, the antelope, and the ostrich. The chiefs, however, are more serious. Upon their shoulders rests the whole responsibility. To them will accrue the largest share of the plunder, if the expedition succeed; and upon them, also, in the event of failure, will fall imprecations, ruin, and shame. They, therefore, consult together and form their plans. Lastly, come the camels that carry the supplies. Thus the host advances, adapting itself to the irregularities of the ground, all in wild confusion, every one noisy and joyous, thinking much of the adventure, nothing of the fatigue, dreaming of glory, not of danger. The warriors relate their former exploits, while the players on the flute accompany them, inspiriting or interrupting them, and the women utter joyful cries. And above all this uproar are heard the loud reports of fire-arms. The firing ceases, and a young and handsome horseman strikes up one of those love-songs, through which the ardour of their passion scatters strange images and striking colours, and which, in the desert, have always a fresh charm for these chivalrous nations.

My heart burns with fire
For a woman come forth from paradise;
O ye who know not Meryem [Mary],
That miracle of the one Allah,
I will show you her portrait.

Meryem, she is Osman Bey himself
When he appears with his standards,
And the roll of his drums,
And his _goums_ following behind.

Meryem, she is a blood mare
That lives in luxury
In a gilded palace;
And loves the leafy shade,
And drinks limpid water,
And will have negro slaves to wait upon her.

Meryem, she is the moon of stars
That betrays robbers;
Or, rather she is the palm-tree
Of the country of the Beni-Mezab,[78]

The fruit of which grows so high
That no one can gather it.

Meryem, rather is she the gazelle,
Bounding in the desert.
The hunter covers her young;
She sees the powder flash,
Leaps forward to receive the ball,
And dies to save its life.

She appointed to meet me
On Monday night.
My heart beat, she came,
All enveloped in silk,
And threw herself into my arms.
Meryem has no sister [no equal]
In the four corners of the world!

She is worth all Tunis and Algiers,
Tlemcen and Mascara,
Their shops, their shop-keepers,
And their perfumed stuffs.

She is worth the vessels
That traverse the azure deep with their sails,
Going in search of the riches
Which Allah has created for us.[79]

She is worth five hundred mares
The fortune of a tribe,
When they hasten to the fight
Beneath their proud riders.

She is worth five hundred she-camels
Followed by their little ones,
Besides a hundred negroes of the Soudan,
Stolen by the Touarueg[80]
To serve Mahommedans.

She is worth all the wandering Arabs,
Happy and independent,
And those with fixed abodes,
Unhappy victims
Of the caprice of Sultans.

Her head is adorned with pure silk,
Whence escapes in flowing curls
Her black hair perfumed with musk,
Or with amber from Tunis;
Her teeth, you would say they were pearls
Set in the reddest coral,
And her eyes, charged with blood,
Wound like the arrows
Of the savage inhabitants of Bernou.[81]

Her saliva, I have tasted it,
Is the sugar of dried grapes,
Or the honey of bees
In the flower of spring time.
Her neck is the mast of a ship
That ploughs the deep seas,
With its white sails
To float along with the wind.

Her throat resembles the peach
Which is seen ripening on the tree;
Her shoulders are like polished ivory,
And her rounded ribs
Are the haughty sabres
Drawn by the Djouad[82]
When weary of using their fire-arms.
How many valiant horsemen
Have died for her in battle!

Oh! would that I possessed
The best horse of the desert,

To ride pensive and alone
By the side of her white she-camel!
That horse would fill with rage
The young men of the Sahara.

I hunt, I pray, I fast,
And follow the laws of the Prophet:
But, were I forced to go to Mecca,
Never would I forget Meryem.
Yes, Meryem, with thy black lashes
Thou wilt always be beautiful,
And as delightful as a gift.

At the end of a few hours the heat becomes unpleasant, and a halt is called. The tents are pitched, breakfast is prepared, and the horses are unbridled and allowed to graze—and all rest themselves. As the sun goes down, the heat diminishes—it is now between two and three in the afternoon. To your saddles and forward, ye daring cavaliers! Display in a brilliant fantasia the worth of your horses and of yourselves. The women behold you; show them what you can do with a horse and a gun. Ah! more than one of you shall be rewarded for his prowess. Do you see that negro? He is bearing to one of you the recompense of his skill in managing his arms and his steed. He is the messenger to whose care one of the lovely spectators has confided the secret of her love, in charging him to deliver to the hero of the fantasia her _khrolkhral_, or anklets, or her _mekhranga_, or necklace of cloves.

It is not enough, however, to be a brave and skilful horseman—it is incumbent on thee, also, to be discreet. Thou hast a friend; to-morrow thou wilt give him thy horse and thy garments. Urge him strongly, for thy sister[83] wishes it, to show himself in the midst of the _goum_ upon thy steed and in thy dress, so as to deceive the other horsemen. In the mean time thou wilt pass unperceived as a humble foot-soldier, and wilt walk beside the camel that bears thy mistress. Attention! watch the favourable moment, and slip into her palanquin. She is just as impatient as thyself, and stretches her hand to thee. Profit by this assistance, and let thy movements outstrip suspicion.

In love, as in war, fortune favours the bold, but they have likewise the largest share of perils. If such meetings are frequent and nearly always successful, there is nevertheless risk to life; for, if the lovers are ever surprised, both of them perish without mercy. But who is there to betray them? All who surround them are in their favour. The lover tells his good fortune to his friends, all of whom are anxious to forward his happiness, and ten or a dozen _douros_ have been sent to his mistress. Nor is this all. Her confidential servant has received two or three _douros_, and money has been freely distributed among her slaves and attendants. All, therefore, keep a good watch, and give timely notice to the lover when he must glide out of the litter, in the midst of the disorder and confusion caused by the pitching of the camp at the approach of night.

Previous to sunset, the chiefs reconnoitre a spot suitable for an encampment. It must be supplied with water, grass, and shrubs for fire-wood. On arriving at the place selected, each tent is pitched, the horses are unbridled and hobbled, as are also the camels, the negroes go in search of wood and grass, the women prepare the food, and they all sup. A thousand little scenes impart to a camp of this kind an aspect full of charm and novelty. Then total darkness envelopes the scene, unless there happens to be moonlight. The fires are extinguished—there is nothing alight to diminish the darkness. In the Sahara, oil and wax are alike unknown. Immediately after supper, each tent selects a man to watch the animals and the baggage. It is his business to prevent thefts, which his most active vigilance is, nevertheless, powerless to avert.

Not robbers alone wait for the night. Protected by the same obscurity, the lover, with the privity of his mistress, cautiously approaches the tent in which she reposes, raises the canvass, and guided by a devoted slave, takes the place of the husband who, fatigued by the day's journey, is sleeping in the men's chamber,—for in the tents of the desert there are always two distinct compartments, one for men, the other for women. Besides, it is deemed disgraceful for a man to pass the whole night by the side of his wife. There is nothing therefore, to interfere with these clandestine meetings. The presence of the two or three other wives permitted by the Mussulman law would certainly not be considered an obstacle. According, to an Arab proverb, only a Jewess surpasses Shitan in trickery, but next to Shitan comes the Mussulmanee. It is a thing unheard of in the desert that women should denounce one another. But if, perchance, the adventure should seem too hazardous, the woman issues from the tent when every one is asleep, and proceeds to a spot she has indicated to her lover by means of one of the usual intermediary agents, the negroes and shepherds.

At the very hour that happy lovers meet, are accomplished schemes of vengeance. A rejected lover penetrates into the tent of the woman who has treated him with scorn, goes up to her, and shoots her with a pistol. At the sound of the explosion, the other women jump up, run against one another, and utter shrieks. The murderer, however, has had time to disappear, and the crime, perpetrated unseen, nearly always remains unpunished. Love adventures are common in the Sahara. Willingly or unwillingly, an Arab woman is sure to have lovers. The jealous precautions of the husbands excite and foment to an unnatural degree the libertine propensities of the women, by the very restraints that are placed upon them. To whatever class they belong, they pass their time in inventing stratagems to deceive their husbands while they are young, and, when they are old, to facilitate the amours of others.

The night is over; the sky is covered with a golden light; it is time to depart. The chiefs now send forward scouts to reconnoitre the enemy's position, and to form an opinion, from external signs, of his moral condition, and of the reinforcements he has received. The scouts advance very cautiously, and, when they are nearing the hostile camp, travel only at night. One of them is then detached on foot, who takes advantage of every irregularity of the ground to avoid being noticed, and oftentimes, disguised in rags, penetrates boldly into the midst of the _douars_. There he makes himself acquainted with the number of foot-soldiers, horses, and tents; observes whether they are laughing and amusing themselves, or if sadness reigns in the camp; and then returns to communicate the result of his investigations. The scouts remain all night in a concealed spot, impatient to discover what will be the attitude of the enemy at sunrise. If he executes the fantasia and discharges his fire-arms,—if shouts of joy are heard, and singing, and the sound of the flute,—it is certain that he has received reinforcements, and troubles himself very little about the approaching attack.

The tribe continues its march until it is not above nine or ten leagues from the enemy. The advance has been made by short stages. The baggage, the women, the foot-soldiers, are so many causes of delay; but what has chiefly retarded the advance are the orders of the chiefs, who are desirous to afford time for reflection to those they proposed to chastise. It was acting prudently, and they were influenced by powerful motives. Who knew but that terms of peace might be asked for, accompanied by many presents for themselves, the leading councillors? Examples were not wanting to that effect—indeed, it was the usual custom. For them would be the cotton stuffs, the garments of cloth, the guns mounted in silver, the anklets, and the _douros_! When an affair takes such turn as this, an amicable arrangement is not far distant.

The two hostile bands are at length divided from one another by no more than ten leagues, and no propositions, direct or indirect, have been exchanged. Does the tribe recognise the impossibility of resistance, or will it accept battle? If it declines the contest, it assembles the most influential marabouts, and furnishes them with money and presents, towards which each individual has contributed his share. These holy men then proceed to the opposite camp in the middle of the night, under the protection of a chief who has received timely notice of their coming, after being seduced by their gifts. By him they are conducted to another, who is in like manner induced to accept the presents offered to him. The two now accompany the messengers of peace to a third chief, and so on to others, until they have gained the votes of all the most powerful. Then, and not till then, do the marabouts, secure of a friendly audience, unfold the propositions they are instructed to make—expressing themselves after this fashion:—"We have come only for the love of Allah. You know we are marabouts, and that we desire only what is right. For our sake, you must come to terms with the Mussulmans who have sent us. That is far better than bringing down upon us all the calamities of war, ruin and death. If you will do what is right, Allah will bless you, yourselves, your wives, your children, your mares, and your she-camels. If you choose what is wrong, may it recoil upon your own heads. We repeat, make peace, and may Allah curse the demon!"

Having first raised a few difficulties for form's sake, the chiefs finish by saying in reply to the marabouts:—"Well! we will make peace for the sake of Allah, and for your sake, but on the following conditions: 1st, You will restore to us the objects, goods or animals, which were taken from us when your people robbed our caravan at such a place. 2nd, You will pay the _dya_[84] of our people slain by yours on such a day. 3rd, You will restore to us all the flocks that were carried off from us by your people on such a day, in such a _khrotefa_. 4th, You will restore to us all the camels and horses which your thieves have stolen from us, and which are still within your bounds."

The marabouts accept these conditions, and guarantee their fulfilment. The sacred book of Sidi Abd-Allah is then produced, and the chiefs swear to make peace. After the oath has been taken, they who have come to prevent the shedding of blood return to their tribe, to give an account of what has been decided, and compel them to execute the terms which they have just guaranteed. On the morrow the tribe that has accorded peace continues its march, and encamps within a league of the enemy. It is barely installed, when the marabouts and chiefs of the opposite party arrive with the ratification that was stipulated. The leading men of the two rival camps meet together, and again swear on the book of Sidi Abd-Allah:—"By the truth of Sidi Abd-Allah, we swear that there shall not again be between us _razzia_, or theft, or murder, or reprisals [_ousiga_], that we are brothers, and that our guns shall henceforth fire in accord."

The marabouts of both parties next read the _fatahh_, or religious invocation, and conclude with these words: "Allah bless you, our children, for having thus buried the knife of contention, and prosper you in your families and in your goods!" The marabouts are afterwards visited by the chiefs of both sides who present to them offerings called _zyara_, literally a visit.

Peace concluded, the tribe that had put itself into motion retraces its steps, and at its departure executes a fantasia of the most noisy character. The horses caracole, reports of fire-arms resound, and the women utter loud cries. All is joy, happiness, and delirium. A dozen of the chiefs of this tribe remain in the midst of their late enemies, and receive from them a splendid hospitality, and even costly presents. And at their departure they take with them some of their hosts, and requite their new-found friends with a generous welcome. These truces last a considerable time; that is, from one to two years.

Peace, however, would certainly not have been concluded if the marabouts who came to intercede for it had not presented themselves under cover of the night. Had they come in the day time, the Arabs, discerning their intrigues, would have exclaimed out of jealousy: "By the sin of our women! we will fight. This one has received cloth-goods, that one money, another jewels, a fourth cotton-stuffs, and that other one arms. But we, whose brothers are dead, whose flocks have been carried, we have got nothing. Yes, we swear it by Sidi Abd-Allah, the powder shall speak." And, in truth, the powder very often does speak, and without the envious having had any cause to complain of the presents made to their chiefs, and without their having prevented the latter from entering into negotiations, and accepting conditions from which no advantage would accrue to the commonality. This happens when the tribe threatened has resolved to oppose force to force, and has prepared for a struggle.

In the latter event the enemy is allowed to approach within a day's march. No advances are made, no propositions offered. The march is therefore continued on the morrow, and the camp is pitched about two leagues from that of the tribe which awaits the assault. The scouts of the two parties come into collision, and, mutually exasperating each another, prelude actual hostilities by insults. A few musket shots are exchanged, and they cry out to one another:— "O Fatma, daughters of Fatma! The night has arrived; why go on to-day? To-morrow shall be called your day." Or, "Dogs, sons of dogs, wait till to-morrow! If you are men, you will meet us."

The skirmishers fall back, and the leaders on both sides organise as quickly as possible a guard of one hundred horsemen and one hundred foot-soldiers, to insure the safety of the camp. On the morrow they watch each other attentively. If one party strike their tents, the others do the same; or if they leave their tents pitched, and advance to the combat with horses and foot, and with the women mounted on camels, the example is followed on the other side. The cavaliers of the two tribes confront one another. The women are placed in the rear, ready to excite the combatants by their cries and applause, and are themselves protected by the foot-soldiers who form the reserve. The battle begins by small parties of ten or a dozen horsemen bearing down upon the flanks, and trying to turn the enemy. The chiefs, at the head of a tolerably compact mass, keep in the centre. Presently the affair grows warm and animated. The bravest and best mounted of the young men dash forward, carried away by passion and the thirst for blood. Uncovering their heads, they strike up their war-songs, and excite themselves by loud outcries:—

"Where are they who have mistresses? It is beneath their eyes that the warriors will combat this day!

"Where are they who, in the presence of the chiefs, were always boasting of their valour? It is to-day that tongues should be long, and not in peaceful gossipings.

"Where are they who run after fame?

"Forward, sons of powder! You see before you those sons of Jews! Our sabre shall drink of their blood, and their goods we will give to our women.

"Strike out, young men! Strike out! It is not the balls that kill, but fate."

These shouts madden the horsemen. They make their steeds rear up on end, and fire off their pieces. Every face asks for blood. They rush together, and at last attack each other with the sabre. One party or the other, however, soon gives way, and begins to fall back upon the camels carrying the women. Then shrieks arise from both sides. These scream with joy, to animate yet more the victors—those utter wrathful and terrible imprecations, to rally the failing courage of their husbands and brothers.

"Look at those famous warriors who show off with their bright stirrups and splendid garments at marriage feasts and festivals! Look at them running away and abandoning even their women! O Jews, and sons of Jews! alight and let us mount your horses, and from henceforth you shall no longer be counted among men. Oh! Allah curse all cowards!"

These railings recall the spirit of the vanquished. They make a vigorous effort, and, supported by the fire of the foot-soldiers who are in reserve, they recover the lost ground, and even hurl the enemy back into the midst of his own women, who now rail as loudly as they lately applauded. The struggle is renewed on the ground that separates the women of the two tribes. During these varying phases the contest has been very desperate, and before long the side that has most men and horses wounded, that has lost the greatest number, and, above all, that has witnessed the fall of its most valiant chiefs, takes to flight, notwithstanding the exhortations and prayers of a few energetic men, who fly from right to left, trying to rally the fugitives and restore the fight. These brave fellows cry aloud:— "Are there any men here, or are there not? Hold your own souls! If you flee, they will carry off your women and leave you nothing but shame. Die! Let it not be said: 'They fled!' Die! and you will yet live!"

A beautiful and touching scene will, perhaps, then be enacted. A chief of the highest rank, in despair at being defeated, throws himself into the _mêlée_ to seek death, but is held back by the young men who gather round him, and beseech him to retire. "Thou art our father!" they will exclaim; "What will become of us if thou shouldst perish? It is our duty to die for thee. We will not remain as sheep without a shepherd." A handful of warriors still endeavour to make head against the foe, but they are swept away in the general rout, and soon find themselves by the side of their women. Every one, then, seeing that all is lost, devotes himself to saving what is dearest to him. As rapidly as possible they make to the rear, only from time to time facing about to check the pursuit of the enemy.

The audacity of desperation has more than once changed the face of things. Aïssa-ben-el-Sheriff, a child of fourteen, mounted on horseback with his tribe to repel an attack directed by Sid-el-Djedid. The Arbâa were beginning to give way and take to flight, when the boy, throwing himself before them, tried to stop them: "What!" he exclaimed, "You are men, and are afraid! You have been brought up in the midst of powder, and do not know how to burn it! Did you pay all that attention to your mares only to make use of them in flight?" And when the others replied, "Djedid! Djedid! Look at Djedid!" "Djedid," continued the child. "It is a single man that makes you flee! Behold, then, this terrible warrior, who puts hundreds to the rout, checked in his victorious career by a child!" With these words he dashed his spurs into his horse's flanks, and came up with the redoubtable warrior. Djedid, fearing nothing from a mere boy, was off his guard, but the latter threw himself round his neck, entwined his arms round him, and, leaving his own horse, hung by one arm, while with the other he endeavoured to stab him with his knife. Astonished at such audacity, and hampered in his movements, Djedid strove in vain to shake him off, but with all his presence of mind he was unable to parry the boy's frequent thrusts. Puzzled what to do, he slipped off his horse, hoping to crush Aïssa in his fall. The latter, however, succeeded in avoiding him, and throwing himself on the courser of the dreaded chief, rejoined his tribe, to whom he exhibited a trophy that made the oldest warrior blush for the momentary panic to which they had yielded.

Were it not that the conquerors usually build a golden bridge for the conquered, the latter might be easily destroyed; but the thirst for pillage gains the day, and the victors disperse in search of plunder. One despoils a foot-soldier, another a horseman whom he has overthrown; another, again, leads away a steed, and yet another a negro. Thanks to this disorder, the bravest of the discomfited tribe succeed in saving their women, and even their tents. When the pillage is at an end, the horsemen of the victorious tribe are anxious to return home, and their chiefs encourage the desire. "We have slain numbers," say they. "We have seized their horses, captured their women, taken their guns, and refreshed our souls by making orphans of these sons of dogs. Our best plan now is to go and sleep at such a place, for the enemy, strengthened by his reinforcements, may possibly resume the offensive and attack us during the night." The baggage is sent forward in front, and, protected by a strong rearguard, during the first few days they continue their march until nightfall.