It is not a pleasant mode of reaching land again, but we must submit to the ordeal. It is not so unpleasant for the ladies, for they are safely carried to shore in chairs; but each gentleman considers himself very fortunate when he finally reaches terra firma without having dipped the soles of his feet in the water during this trip to shore, astride his queer two-footed steed.
Once safely landed, however, we begin to look about us. The people passing in the street seem to be enveloped in a long white, woolen garment or cloak. This has a large hood, which is generally brought straight up over the head.
This hooded populace passes us, with grave faces, slowly, silently, as if seeking to escape notice. Others may be found crouching along the walls of the buildings, or seated at the corners of the streets, with eyes as fixed and faces as immovable as though in a trance.
All expression of interest in the surroundings or in the affairs of the world seems to have faded from the faces of the people. They appear to be lost in meditation or sunk in day dreams, impassive to all that is going on around them.
Moving through the crowd, however, we become conscious, upon nearer view, that there is not so much uniformity as we had at first supposed. We perceive faces of all hues,—black, white, yellow, and even bronze.
As the long, silent procession passes, we perceive old men bent and worn with age, figures shriveled and dried like Egyptian mummies, women with face and body wrapped and concealed in a mass of rags, and children with nothing childlike in face or person unless it be their long tresses. Here are people whose heads are ornamented with long tufts of wooly hair, others with heads glistening like polished ivory or metal, so closely have they been shorn of their locks.
The town of Tangier is a curious sight, with its labyrinth of narrow streets; so narrow as to be scarcely more than corridors.
Rows of white houses line these streets and present an odd appearance to the looker-on. They are usually without windows, and the narrow doorways are scarcely wide enough for a man to enter by them. They give one the impression that they belong to a prison, or possibly a house of refuge or concealment.
Occasionally a door, or even a window, is seen with some Moorish decoration. Again a band of red may be found at the foot of a wall, or a hand may be discerned painted in black upon the doorway. Such marks are superstitiously regarded as charms to keep away evil influences.
The air in the streets is very offensive. Most thoroughfares are littered with heaps of decaying vegetables, old rags, bones, feathers, and other substances, with an occasional dead dog or cat lying about. These render the air most disagreeable and unwholesome. Added to this are the mingled odors of garlic, burnt aloes, benzoin, fish, and the smoke of various substances that may be burning. Here and there groups of Arab boys may be seen playing at their various games; or they may be heard chanting, in their shrill, nasal tones, verses from the Koran, which is their only schoolbook.