CHAPTER XIII
ALGIERS
Vistas
Many schemes were mentally cartooned for the autumn and winter’s work; but all our plans were suddenly upset by an unlooked for occurrence. While in Rome I had had a severe attack of Roman fever; and I had never quite recovered therefrom. The prolonged rains in the hot autumn, the dampness of the clay soil on which lay the hamlet of Buck’s Green, made me very ill again with intermittent low fever. It was deemed imperative that I should not spend the whole winter in England, but go in search of a dry warm climate. But we had not the necessary funds. So instead of devoting himself to his dream-work, as he had hoped, my husband laid it temporarily aside and settled himself to write between October and Xmas, two exciting boys’ serial stories for Young Folk’s Paper, and thus procured sufficient money to enable us to cross to North Africa. “The Red Rider” and “The Last of the Vikings” were crowded with startling adventures. The weaving of sensational plots offered no difficulties to him, but an enjoyment. He did not consider the achievement of any real value, and did not wish that particular kind of writing to be associated with his name. His impressions of Algeria and Tunisia were chronicled in a series of articles, such as “Cardinal Lavigerie,” “The March of Rome,” “Rome in Africa,” etc.; also in a series of letters to a friend from which I select one or two:
Biskra, 2d Feb., 1893.
“Here we are in the Sahara at last! I find it quite hopeless to attempt to give you any adequate idea of the beauty and strangeness and the extraordinary fascination of it all. The two days’ journey here was alone worth coming to Africa for! We left Mustapha shortly before dawn on Tuesday, and witnessed a lovely daybreak as we descended the slopes to Agha: and there we saw a superb sunrise streaming across the peaks and ranges of the Djurdjura of Kabylia (the African Highlands) and athwart the magnificent bay. The sea was dead calm, and in parts still mirrored the moon and a few stars: then suddenly one part of it became molten gold, and that nearest us was muffled into purple-blue wavelets by the dawn-wind. The sound of it washing in, almost at the feet of the palms and aloes and Barbary-figtrees was delicious. We had a long and delightful day’s journey till sunset. Our route was through Grande Kabylie, and the mountain scenery in particular was very impressive. At many places we had a long stop: but everywhere here railway-travelling is more like journeying in a carriage, the rate of speed not being much more, with ample facilities for seeing everything en route. The Kabyles are the original inhabitants of Mauritanian Africa—and both in language and appearance these Berbers differ markedly from the Moors and the nomadic Arabs. They are the hardiest and most industrious though also the most untameable, of the native races. They live in innumerable little villages scattered among the mountains and valleys and plains of the Djurdjura country.
“The sun sank over the uplands of Kabylia as we mounted towards the ancient Roman outpost-city, Setif. Setif stands about 3,500 ft. high: and crossing the plateaux beyond it was like making an excursion through Scotland in midwinter. Still, despite the snow on the hills, and even along the roads of Setif itself, the cold was not so severe as we expected.
“At four next morning we steamed slowly out of Setif in full moonlight. An hour or so later dawn broke as we passed a series of Arab encampments, and then came another sunrise over a wild and desolate country. We were now entirely in Mahommedan lands, for there are comparatively few Europeans south of the city of Constantine.