CHAPTER XIII THE AMERICAN EAGLE ENTERS THE AFRICAN DESERT
Hotter and hotter grew our campaign. Thicker and faster adventures came. I could not be in the center of all of them, but I had reason to be glad that I had been with Captain Eaton in Tunis, because now he was returning to the seat of war to launch an attack, and I, because of his friendship for me, was granted the chance to go along. This new enterprise came about in this way.
Captain Bainbridge, I was told by Captain Eaton, while a prisoner in Tripoli, observed in the Bashaw's court three forlorn children. He inquired who they were.
"They are the children of Hamet Bashaw," a guard informed him. "Hamet Bashaw is the elder brother of our ruler, Joseph Bashaw. Hamet occupied this throne, until Joseph set on foot a rebellion and drove him out. Hamet fled to Egypt, and his children were captured by our monarch's troops. They are now held here as hostages, to insure that Hamet will make no attempts to regain the kingdom."
"That gives me an idea," Captain Bainbridge remarked to his officers, and he set to work to plan to unite against Joseph the forces of Hamet and the United States.
The lemon juice was again used as ink. In his letter to one of the consuls, the captain suggested that the United States should send a party out to find Hamet and persuade him to lead a movement to regain his throne, using in the campaign marines and sailors of the American navy.
It was this scheme, proposed to him while he was in Tunis, that Captain Eaton advanced when he visited the Navy Department. He returned to the fleet with permission to join forces with Hamet.
My employer's enterprise seemed at first thought to be doomed to failure. Most naval men disapproved and Captain Murray, then in command of the Gibraltar squadron, opposed it strenuously. Captain Eaton's title of "Naval Agent" was also resented by Murray and other officers. The captain met their attacks with his usual vigor.
"The government," he burst out, "may as well send out Quaker meeting-houses to float about this sea as frigates with Murrays in command. The friendly salutes he may receive and return at Gibraltar produce nothing at Tripoli. Have we but one Truxton and one Sterret in the United States?" Later, he included Preble and Decatur in his list of worthy officers.
Our first task, then, was to find Hamet, whom Joseph had displaced as ruler of Tripoli.
In the finding of Hamet we were greatly assisted by a German engineer named Leitensdorfer, who had been a colonel in a Tyrol battalion. At this period he was at Cairo, employed as a military engineer by the Turks. News came to him that Captain Eaton desired a secret agent to deliver a message to Hamet. He deserted the Turks and sought Captain Eaton, who employed him.
With one attendant and two dromedaries, he entered the desert in search of the Arab tribe that had given shelter to Hamet. The only sleep he secured was what he could snatch on the back of his beast; he fed his animals small balls composed of meal and eggs. Reaching the camp in safety, he was cordially received, and refreshed with coffee. Hamet agreed to the American proposals, and one night with one hundred and fifty followers, he rode away from the Mameluke camp as if on an ordinary ride, but instead he rode to our camp with Leitensdorfer.
It had been decided that our route of march should be over the Libyan desert, along the sea-coast, to the town of Derne. The Viceroy at Alexandria, bribed by the French consul, forbade us to enter the city or to embark from the harbor. We were not troubled by this order, however, because Hamet said that if he went by ship along the coast while the Arabs were left to cross the desert, they would soon lose heart and turn back.
Our object in attacking the Tripolitan cities of Derne and Bengazi was to cut off the enemy's food supplies; to open a channel for intercourse with the inland tribes; and to use these cities as recruiting places for our attack on Tripoli.
The desert lay ahead of us—the place of which an ancient traveler once said: "How can one live where not a drop of rain falls; where not a single dish is to be had; where butter can no more be procured than the philosopher's stone; where wheat is the diet of kings alone; where the common man lives on dates, and fever has its headquarters?"
Except for oases here and there, the Libyan desert is so barren that there is no animal life. At the oases, towns have been in existence since the days of the Romans. In one of these, Ghadames, the streets are covered from the sun, and give the traveler the impression that he is entering a mine. Caravan roads run from oasis to oasis. Donkeys, horses and cattle are used as beasts of burden, but the camel is the chief of desert animals.
Tripoli extends for many hundreds of miles along the coast from Tunis to Egypt. Its cities and oases contain about a million people. Along its caravan routes traders bring ostrich feathers, elephant tusks, and other products from Central Africa to be shipped to Europe.
Into this desert we push, a motley army. Arab adventurers have gathered around Hamet, sheiks and tribesmen who are moved only by a hope of plunder and reward. Our own American forces can be depended on, but how few they are. The six marines are a good-natured, independent set, sufficient unto themselves. They look at the Greek soldiers whom the Greek captain has enlisted with great amusement, for the Greeks wear kilts. However, they too are good-humored, and the Americans and Greeks may be counted on to stick together, being Christians, against the semi-hostile infidels.
Our food consists of dates, figs, apricots, camel's meat, and camel's milk. After a while even these will grow scarce and famine will confront us as it confronted Jacob and his sons in this same country, but for the present let us not look forward to hunger.
At the front of our caravan, on swift camels bred for racing, ride the sheiks. Trained to be on the watch for robber bands, they survey the horizon keenly, although our expedition is so large that there is little need to fear attack. Thieves will steal up to plunder at night, but they dare not attempt robbery in force.
Behind these picturesque chiefs, come the freight camels, loaded with all kinds of equipment and supplies. They are drab and sullen as the desert itself. On these beasts ride their owners, Bedouins in long, white or brown gowns, wrapped so that only their faces may be seen.
Our water we carry in pigskins, loaded on certain camels. There are also jugs of oil. The water tastes like the pigskin, and it almost sickens one to drink it.
We follow no path or road; there is none; yet our guides know the way by rocks and hills or other marks. At night the stars are our only guides, but the march has been arranged so that we camp near a well or spring every night.
When we stop to rest, the camels kneel down to be relieved of their burdens. Their feet are examined to see if they have been bruised, and such wounds are treated and bound up, after which the camels are hobbled to keep them from running away.
Meanwhile, our tents are being pitched. We smooth out the soft sand to make a comfortable bed. We have brought fuel with us, and with this a fire is made. Guards are stationed, and we sleep with our guns near our hands. The Mohammedans in our party, after first rubbing their faces and hands with sand because water is not to be had, kneel in prayer.
During the day the sun beats upon us with almost unbearable heat, and as there are no clouds in the sky, the sun's rays, striking against the white sand, almost blind us, while to make things more uncomfortable, the camels raise a thick dust. We understand now why the Arabs wear cloths about their heads. We follow their example, and cut slits in the cloths for eyes and nose. After the sun goes down it is better for traveling.
It is lucky for us that we are sailors and used to a rolling motion, for the motion of the camel is like that of a ship.
A sand storm comes. A small black cloud arises and grows till in a short time it has half covered the sky. The sand begins to blow, and beats into our faces like hail. We stop the caravan; the camels kneel; and fighting off terror, we lie down with our faces in the ground beside the beasts. The blowing sand is so thick that it hides the sun.
The storm passes quickly. There has been, for all the blackness of the clouds, no drop of rain.
After the sun goes down, the air becomes cool and blankets are needed. The sky is full of low-hanging stars and the moon is big and mellow.
Once in a while we meet a wandering tribe that moves from green place to green place with their animals, living in tents of camels'-hair cloth. "Aleikoom salaam!" (Peace be with you!) they call to us, bobbing up and down on their camels. "Salaam aleikoom!" (With you be peace!) we answer. Bands of robbers appear in the distance. At the oases we meet farmers who are not given to roving. They have priests and sheiks, and worship in mosques, and raise grain and vegetables. Once in a while a hospitable sheik roasts a kid on a stick and invites us to dine. Fingers are forks here. We find it so highly seasoned with red pepper that our mouths burn and our eyes water.
The approach of a caravan is picturesque and exciting. First you hear a moaning sound like the wailing of a strong wind through a clump of trees. Then a cloud appears on the horizon. In a few moments you see that this cloud is of dust, and that in its midst are scores of camels. The rumbling noise you heard is found to be merely the gurgling sound that camels make.
It was also interesting to observe a caravan go into camp. The foreleg of each camel was folded and tied to keep the beast from wandering; baby camels, their white coats contrasting strongly with the dark brown color of their parents' coats, knelt by their hobbled mothers.
The owners of the camels busied themselves in driving stakes for their tents, while the women occupied themselves by arranging the palanquins in which they and their little ones traveled on the backs of the camels. These palanquins are no more or less than woolen tents made of red blankets supported on the camels' backs by a framework of tree branches. The camel's hump is wrapped around by woolen stuffs and on each side of the hump a woman sits, surrounded by babies and bundles, but protected by the canopy from the sun.
At some of the oases we passed we saw bronzed, graceful women and girls weaving carpets and ornamenting veils and blankets. Two women worked at an upright loom. One of these spinners unwound the skeins of wool while the other wove, using her fingers as a shuttle. Peeping into one of their tents I saw the entire family sitting around a wooden dish, into which all dipped, while kids and dogs tried to poke their heads between the children, eager to have a share in the repast.
The date palms were the principal trees at these oases. Nature, when this land became a desert, yet provided the date palm to sustain the life of the desert people. Each tree yields a hundred pounds or more of dates yearly for a century. The green dates taste like unripe persimmons but the ripe dates are sugary and delicious. The Arabs call the date the bread of the desert and besides using it as a main food, feed it also to their camels and dogs.
It was on March 6th, 1805, that we broke camp and began our fifty days' march across the desert—a journey that required all of the American grit we could muster to carry on. Hunger and rebellion and the wavering of Hamet himself had to be endured, and Arab chiefs had continually to be coaxed and bribed.
There were ten Americans in the party: General Eaton, Lieutenant O'Bannon; Mr. Peck, a non-commissioned officer, six marines, and myself. The rest of the force was composed of a party of twenty-five cannoniers and their three officers; thirty-eight Greek soldiers and their two officers; Hamet Bashaw's company of ninety men; and a party of Arab cavalry under the command of the Sheiks il Taiib and Mahamet, including footmen and camel drivers. Our entire force numbered about four hundred and our caravan consisted of one hundred and seven camels and a few asses.