It is difficult, when looking at the map of Africa, to realize that the Straits of Gibraltar are all that separate it from Europe, a continent differing widely from it in every respect.
True, standing upon the northern shore, we find ourselves in a country which will recall to our minds some of the characteristics of sunny Spain. A short journey of three or four hours farther south will transport us, however, into a section where everything is new and strange.
Pleasant as we have found it to catch glimpses of Africa in our reading, interesting as we have found it to trace the footprints of travelers, we shall now find ourselves enjoying nearer and clearer views of the continent, as we approach it from the coast of Europe.
We will enter the continent from the northwestern extremity, the section known as the Empire of Morocco, called by the Arabs, "the far west."
Tangier, the small seaport at which our little steamer anchors, is situated on a small bay, or inlet, of the Straits of Gibraltar, the division line old Father Ocean has marked between Africa and Europe, and lies thirty-eight miles southwest of the town of Gibraltar.
It is with mingled feelings of awe, curiosity, and interest that we catch our first glimpses of Africa from the bridge of the little steamer which has carried us safely to within sight of shore.
The white walls of Tangier can be distinctly seen, and numerous boats are fast approaching the steamer in quest of passengers. Just behind the boats, following in their wake, a crowd of Arabs, scantily clad in tattered garments, come wading through the water, halfway to their waists.
With outstretched arms, and wild, fierce cries and gestures, they draw nearer and nearer, their actions strikingly suggestive of maniacs bent upon wanton mischief or pirates in search of plunder.
It is with no little fear that we enter one of the boats now at the steamer's side; but as we approach to within a short distance from the shore our fear becomes intensified, for the whole swarm of what we can scarcely recognize as human beings, surround the boat.
They throw themselves upon us, lay hands upon us, and, with frantic gestures and vociferous cries in Arabic and Spanish, endeavor to gain our attention. It is with a feeling of genuine relief that we finally comprehend the meaning of the strange scene, and find that all this hubbub is to give us the information that the tide is low, that it will be impossible for the boat to approach any nearer to the shore, and that we must be carried the remaining distance upon the shoulders of these uncouth Arabs.