Chapter XXIX: Route From El-Badja to Tabarca

My original plan had been to cross the Algerian frontier at El-Kef, and so proceed northwards to La Calle. But a paragraph in the last commercial report of my colleague, Mr. Wood, H.M. Agent and Consul-General at Tunis, induced me to modify my plans.

He says:—‘The Kabyles inhabit the mountains between the Pashalik of Tripoli and the Regency of Tunis to the south, as well as the ranges forming the western boundary which divides Tunis from Algiers. The former are docile and submissive when compared with the Kabyles of the west, who barely recognise the authority of Government. These latter are jealous, suspicious, and inhospitable. They allow no foreigner (not even an Arab) to visit their mountain fastnesses, which are protected by rugged ascents, and surrounded by the densest of forests. No approximate estimate can be possibly arrived at as to their numbers; but we know that they are able to bring 18,000 fighting men to the battle field.’

This tallied exactly with the information I had received from all other sources, and in Algeria to cross the frontier near La Calle was believed to be impossible.

But I had travelled a good deal amongst the Kabyles of Algeria, both in the Djurdjura range and in the Aures Mountains, and I was rather incredulous as to their extreme ferocity. At all events, I determined to make the experiment, and my companion was quite as eager as I was.

On our arrival at El-Badja we communicated our plans to the Kaid, who strongly dissuaded us from attempting even to reach Tabarca by land, but on our declaring that we would only abandon the idea on his formally assuring us that it was impossible and refusing us permission to make the attempt, he so far gave in as to admit that the route from El-Badja to Tabarca might be practicable, but any idea of penetrating the country of the Khomair must be dismissed from our minds as an impossibility. We discussed the question fully over our coffee, M. Gandolphe and the Miralai entertained us with a duet recounting the terrible atrocities of which this ferocious tribe had been guilty; their ignorant and savage nature was such that the moment they saw a European they fired upon him without further question, under the impression that he was a wild beast. Jews had been allowed to pass, but their squalid and filthy dress so nearly approached that of the Khomair themselves as to excite no suspicion; in fact, we were rushing upon our doom, and they washed their hands of the whole transaction. We compromised matters by accepting the Kaid’s offer of two extra spahis to escort us, and we telegraphed to beg the French Commandant at La Calle to send us a boat to Tabarca, in the event of our having to abandon the idea of reaching his station by land.

We left El-Badja at six o’clock on April 25; the weather had been unsettled for several days, but the rain had generally fallen at night only, and as it had poured continuously for the past twelve hours, we entertained strong hopes that it would clear up on this occasion also. We packed our luggage with extra care, covered the mule bearing Kingston’s precious photographic apparatus with a waterproof sheet, and bade an affectionate farewell to our amiable host.

The country through which we passed was extremely rich and well cultivated, and the scenery grander than anything we had yet seen, but the weather was so bad that it quite spoiled the enjoyment of our journey; the rain fell in torrents, and the wind was so high that we could with difficulty keep our seats in passing over some of the most exposed hill-sides. This was no great hardship for us, our excellent waterproofs kept out every drop of moisture; but the poor spahis, with their woollen bernouses were in a far less happy frame of mind. It is true that these are nearly as impervious to rain as indiarubber cloaks, but they become very heavy when wet, and as they have also to serve as bedclothes during the night, it is a serious matter to have them thoroughly saturated during the day. They would fain have turned back before we had been out half an hour; but, as we were determined to advance at all hazards, they could not but accompany us.

At about 13 miles from El-Badja the mountains approach in front, and a stream forces its way through a narrow and well-wooded pass called Khanga Kef et-Toot, or _pass of the mulberry tree hill_. The river was very much swollen when we crossed it. I feel sure that an hour later it must have been unfordable. In the pass is a hot spring, but it was absorbed into the general torrent, and we could not distinguish it.

This is the entrance to the district of Nefsa, a region even more fertile, better cultivated and more thickly peopled than that we had just passed through; in addition it has the charm of being well wooded, principally with wild olive trees.

During the whole of this day’s ride we observed no traces of Roman occupation nor did the enquiries we made of the Arabs we met elicit any satisfactory evidence that such exist off the line of our route, except near the sea coast; they assured us, however, that there were some remarkable caves in the mountains, most probably those described by Peyssonnel, who, when visiting the French factory at Cape Negro, says:—

‘I accompanied the assistants who went hunting in the territories occupied by an Arab nation called Nevesins (_Nefsaouin_, or people of Nefsa), five leagues from Cape Negro, on the way to Bega. On the road we went to see the holes in the mountains cut with chisels in the living rock. They have an entrance of three feet square, and inside the height is five feet, and about the same length and breadth. It is believed that these are hermitages of the primitive Christians, but this is not my opinion, for how could the hermits have been at the expense of cutting the rocks of this size and regularity?

‘Moreover, these holes are all near towns; close to those of which I am speaking, we saw the remains of a village; and I observed other similar ones in the neighbourhood of the ancient Tabarca. Neither cross nor other emblem of Christianity is found there. I saw some on the scarped face of the rock at an elevation of fifteen or twenty feet, one above the other, and it was impossible to enter the higher ones without a ladder. Some are very small, others are double, so that at the end of one there is a second smaller one. In the inside are small niches, similar to those which I have observed in the mausoleums which I have had the honour of alluding to,[231] and this makes me suppose that these holes were meant to receive dead bodies, and that they were shut up with large square stones.’[232]

There is strong reason for supposing that these are sepulchral chambers similar to the caves at Roknia, and the subject is one deserving the attention of a future traveller. There can be little doubt that the opening of the railway to El-Badja will render this country more easy of access, and less hazardous than it is at present.

We had intended spending the night with the Sheikh Abdulla bin Nasr, chief of the Oulad Nasr, whose douar is on the left or western bank of the Oued Malah (_salt river_), but when we reached the right bank we found it so swollen that we were reluctantly compelled to abandon the attempt to cross it that night. Fortunately there was a douar belonging to Sheikh bou Real (_the father of a piastre_) at no great distance, and, seeing our trouble, he offered us the most ungrudging hospitality. The Arabs of this country do not as a rule inhabit tents; their abodes are houses with a permanent wooden framework, roofed with reeds, rushes and straw, with walls of hurdle work, so tightly plaited as to be tolerably impervious to the wind, and quite so to the rain—two or three such houses, according to the wealth of the owner, are surrounded by a low fence of dry thorns, and an aggregation of several such within one common enclosure constitutes the douar.

Our host was evidently a person of some importance; his house was forty feet long by twenty broad, divided longitudinally into two portions. That to the right was raised about eighteen inches above the other, and constituted the family residence and general storeroom. Near one end sacks of wheat were piled up to the roof, forming a partition, behind which the ladies of the family retreated at night. Outside of this were two or three platforms of loose planks on wooden trestles, intended as places of refuge from the main body of the fleas, who usually take possession of the place; on these we slept in tolerable comfort, thanks to the priceless discovery we made, that by tucking the trousers inside the stockings, those disagreeable neighbours are to a great extent circumvented.

We were rather a numerous company, and the space on which it was possible to lie was limited, but we were thankful for any shelter, and when we could not sleep, it was a comforting thing to hear the wind howling around us, and the rain pattering on the roof, and to think what our condition would have been, had we been obliged to pitch our tent on the sodden ground outside. The lower division of the house served as the stable; generally it was filled with our host’s own animals, but he hospitably turned these into the yard in order to accommodate our horses and mules. This arrangement is not without its advantages and disadvantages; it was not pleasant to wade through the liquid manure with which it was carpeted; but, on the other hand, this ‘matter misplaced’ remained there, and could not flow uphill to our beds.

The ladies of the house were not very well pleased at being turned out of their ordinary sleeping-place, and were at first inclined to be sulky; but a little delicate attention to the baby, who was suffering from whooping cough, and a few presents of money, sugar and biscuits to themselves, produced the never-failing result, and they soon became quite devoted to us, and showed their affection by gifts of eggs, milk and dry brushwood to keep up the fire.

The Khalifa or substitute of the Kaid of El-Badja happened to be in the vicinity collecting arrears of revenue. As soon as he heard of our arrival, he came to pay us a visit, pressed us to return with him to his tents, which were a mile or two off, and offered to make us far more comfortable than we could be here; but we had already unpacked, and the weather was not such as to tempt us abroad again. So he accepted our excuses, and having caused abundant supplies of straw and barley to be brought, he remained with us till our departure.

Next morning we rejoiced to hear that the river had sunk sufficiently during the night to be now fordable, but the weather was still bad, and there was every prospect that, should it commence to rain again, the torrent would become as bad as ever.

We therefore started very early, taking especial care to see to the security of our loads, and accompanied by all the men of the village, by whose aid we were soon landed on the further bank of the river.

Here we were met by the Sheikh Abdulla, who pressed us most warmly to spend a day at his douar, but we were obliged to decline, as our time was limited, and we knew not what difficulties might still lie before us. He excused himself from accompanying us in person to Tabarca, as there was a mortal feud between his people and those of Mekna, further west, and though both professed to be the dutiful subjects of the Bey, there had been war between themselves for generations. It was only about a fortnight before, that a party of each tribe had met on the neutral ground between them, and one man of Mekna had been killed. He, however, found us a man belonging to another tribe, who undertook to guide us to the douar of the Sheikh of Mekna.

At the douar of Sheikh Abdulla commences a tract of country, in some places 12 miles broad and tapering to a point westward at Tabarca, called by the natives _Belad er-Ramel_, country of sand, or _Ramel es-Safra_, yellow sand. This has been engulfed by the sea-sand, which is advancing imperceptibly but irresistibly in a south-easterly direction, blown by the prevailing north-west winds from the beach.

There is no uncertain line of demarcation between it and the rich forest-land beyond; it ends abruptly in a high bank, sometimes rising like a cliff 30 feet high, sometimes sloping gradually down a valley, like a glacier, but always advancing and swallowing up the vegetation in its course. In some places it is absolutely destitute of any plants; in others broom and tufts of diss grass occur, while a few peaks higher than the general level, or some valleys sheltered from the north-west, appear like islands of verdure in this sea, or oases in this desert, of sand.

It is very interesting to watch the process by which it advances; this was quite visible even after the heavy rains which preceded our visit, and which had rendered the surface comparatively hard. It must be much more marked when the surface is dry. On placing the eye so that the edge of the sand-hill stands out in relief against the sky, a distinct haze, caused by minute particles of sand in motion, is observable, and sand and sky appear to be shaded off into each other.

The contrast between this scene of desolation and the glorious forest-land beyond, lightened up with patches of cultivation and broad grassy slopes, is most striking. After passing the sandy district, which is neutral ground between the two hostile tribes, the road passes through the forest, at a place called Sook et-Toork. The trees are of considerable size, consisting of wild olive, evergreen and deciduous oak, aspen and juniper, while the under shrub is of broom, heath and bracken.

A short ride brought us to the head-quarters of Sheikh Murad, head of the Mekna tribe (pl. _Amakin_). This good man was by no means glad to see us, and did not even offer us a drink of milk, but after some persuasion he sent his Khalifa to conduct us to Tabarca, and show us the best means of crossing the river there, if indeed the operation were possible, which he doubted.

His fears were too well founded: when we reached the right bank of the Oued el-Kebir, which enters the sea close to the island of Tabarca, we found it a deep and rapid river, over which no animal, far less a laden mule, could pass. And although we saw the island and the Bey’s fort not a mile beyond us, we had no alternative but to turn round and seek the hospitality of some douar of the dreaded tribe of _Khomair_. Our escort looked grave: but as long experience had taught us that they were extremely brave where there was no danger, insolent and exacting when they were sure of meeting with no resistance, but meek as lambs amongst such as set their master the Bey’s authority at defiance, and were little likely to brook interference from them, we paid little heed to their forebodings, and under the guidance of the Khalifa of Mekna, we went up to one of the largest douars in sight, and claimed hospitality for the night.

We appeared to be regarded with some distrust, nothing like a cordial welcome was accorded to us, but the owner of the hut placed it at our service. It was not more than fifteen feet square, reeking with foul odours, the ground splashing with liquid manure, and our party consisted of ten persons besides ourselves. The family of the host added four or five women and children to the number, so we felt that it would be quite impossible for all to spend the night within the building. In spite, therefore, of the glances of alarm which the proposition elicited from our escort, we insisted on pitching our own tent in the vicinity. No sooner was this done, and we had commenced to prepare our dinner of preserved meat with the aid of a spirit lamp, than a great circle of wild-looking fellows gathered around us and watched our movements with wondering gravity. They allowed us to eat our meal without interruption, which done, we commenced to amuse them by the exhibition of compasses, barometers, tricks with pocket-handkerchiefs and string, and my companion, who is an unerring shot, astonished them by the accuracy of his aim. I do not think, however, that it was until we produced a pot of jam, and distributed it to the assembly, that we entirely succeeded in gaining their affections. Suddenly they all thawed in a most amusing manner, and we became the best possible friends. They declared that we must never leave them; they would give us land and sheep—and as for wives! the full number of four each was at our disposal on the most reasonable terms. They at once offered to escort us by land to La Calle, or to take us to any part of their country we pleased to visit, and we felt that the pacific conquest of the dreaded Khomair had been accomplished.

The _Oued el-Kebir_, which in part of its course is known as the _Oued ez-Zan_, or river of oak-trees, is the ancient Tusca, which formed the boundary between the Roman province of Africa and Numidia. It continued to be the boundary of the native states which succeeded the Roman occupation, and eventually between the pachaliks of Algiers and Tunis. After the French occupation of Algeria the limit was fixed in its present position, considerably further west.

In some maps it is also called the Oued Barbar; such a name is quite unknown at the present day, but it is given, no doubt, on the authority of Marmol, who accompanied the expedition of Charles V. to Africa, and having for twenty years followed the standard of that Emperor, was subsequently taken prisoner, and remained seven years and eight months in captivity in North Africa. He says:—

‘The Hued-yl-Barbar is another great river, which has its source in the great Atlas, near the town of Lorbus, in the kingdom of Tunis, and makes so many turnings and windings in these mountains that travellers who go from Bone to Tunis pass it twenty-five times, and during all this course it has neither a bridge nor a boat. At the end of its course it enters the sea, near the port of Taburc, at six leagues from the town of Begge’ (El-Badja).[233]

The valley in which it flows is unsurpassed for fertility and beauty; it is hardly possible to conceive one better suited for colonisation, or a locality which could more easily be made a centre of agricultural and industrial prosperity. It is about two miles wide at Tabarca, and stretches far away among the mountains to an unknown distance. It is flat, covered with rich crops and pasture, and dotted throughout its whole extent with fine trees. It is traversed by three streams; the main one is the Oued el-Kebir, the ancient Tusca, the eastern one the Oued es-Sahila, and the western one the Oued el-Ahmer. At present it is perfectly pestiferous, and the mortality amongst the troops stationed at Tabarca is alarming, although the men are relieved every two or three months. Ever since we crossed the Oued Zergäa, on our way to El-Badja, we had met small groups of fever-stricken wretches who had formed part of the garrison here, and who were going back to Tunis to recruit their health. We never failed to get an affirmative answer when we put the question on passing them, ‘Are you from Tabarca?’

The reason, however, is so obvious, and the remedy so simple, that one cannot help wondering why the natives have never attempted it in their own interests. The district which I have already described as the ‘Country of Sand’ commences at Tabarca, and forms a range of sandhills right across the mouth of the valley, except at the one point where the rivers converge and fall into the sea. The valley is so flat that there is no natural drainage into the rivers which traverse it; the consequence is that rain water has no means of escaping to the sea, the land becomes a swamp, and remains so during a great portion of the year, till dried up by solar evaporation. While this operation is being carried on by nature, the inevitable result, malarious fever, is felt in an unusual degree.

When any great and sudden epidemic visits the country, it finds this district thoroughly prepared for its reception. The Abbé Poiret, who visited Tabarca just after Desfontaines in 1785, gives a harrowing account of the ravages committed by the plague during the previous year. Whole tribes were swept away, and the Turkish garrison perished, with the exception of five or six soldiers; the island was twice entirely depeopled, and the harvests were lost for want of labour to gather them in, while flocks of sheep and goats strayed all over the country without any owners to claim them.[234]

A few ditches, so cut as to direct the surface waters into the streams which traverse the plain, would soon remedy this evil, and convert the valley into what it ought to be, one of the finest and most salubrious districts in the Regency. It possesses every condition necessary to ensure prosperity, extensive corn and meadow land, capable of irrigation in summer; numerous flocks and herds; an unusually fine race of horses; an inexhaustible supply of the finest timber, especially oak; cork forests, and, above all, proximity to the sea, and an easy and secure anchorage, at least for small vessels.

There can be no doubt that the country is rich in minerals. A specimen of lead ore was picked up near Tabarca and brought to me. I submitted it for analysis to the English mining company at Ain Barbar, from which I have received a report that it contains 72·70 per cent. of lead, and that each ton of mineral contains 150 grammes, or 5 ounces of silver.

M. Peyssonnel (1724) mentions having visited a lead mine in this neighbourhood on his way from Cape Negro to Badja. He states: ‘We saw on our road, at about five leagues from Cape Negro, a mine of lead very abundant. The Moors, who worked it, stated that it had been opened by the ancient Christians. At the entrance to the quarry was a piece of marble, with a horse in _bas-relief_. We stopped at the place where they melted the lead. They mix the ore with wood in bad furnaces made with clay, and thus separate the metal very imperfectly.’[235]

The plain is covered with remains of Roman occupation. We observed no inscriptions, but Peyssonnel records four epitaphs[236] which existed in his time, and which are probably there still, so little has this district been visited by Europeans during the past century.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 231: Allusion is here made to a mausoleum at Suffetula and to one at Toelsen.]

[Footnote 232: Peyssonnel, ap. Dur. de la Malle, i. p. 258.]

[Footnote 233: Marmol, trad. d’Ablancourt, vol. i. p. 23.]

[Footnote 234: Abbé Poiret, vol. i. p. 182, 191.]

[Footnote 235: Peyssonnel, ap. Dur. de la Malle, vol. i. p. 247.]

[Footnote 236: Ibid. p. 261.]