This military spectacle invariably terminates with the defeat of the French. When Abd-el-Kader thinks it time to put an end to the exercises, he plunges into the thick of the mêlée; two Arabs then seize his horse by the bridle, one on each side, and lead the Sultan away captive to his tent, amid shouts of triumph and enthusiasm. Abd-el-Kader, casting around him proud glances on his followers wrapt in admiration of his warlike grace, makes his horse prance and rear till it stands upright, while the Sultan smiles complacently, as much as to say “Am not I a horseman indeed?”
“And so you are, my fine Sultan,” said I to myself; “but you would not be quite so cock-a-hoop on an English saddle, for all that.”
On the third and last day of this warlike exhibition Ben Faka came to me with a swaggering air and said, “There has been a battle at Tlemsen; the Kalifah has beaten the French, and taken a great number of prisoners, whom he is going to send to the Sultan, so you will soon have plenty of companions.”
“I believe,” said I, “that you are as much deceived now as you were when you told me that Ahmed Bey had taken Bona.”
Meanwhile, poor Meurice got worse every day, and I spent most of my time in rubbing his aching limbs, and in endeavouring to warm his frozen legs and feet against my breast, and to relieve the burning pain in his head, by wetting my hands, and then laying them on his forehead. I was thus occupied when Ben Faka returned to the tent, and said to me with an insulting laugh, “Come and look at the Christian prisoners whom the Kalifah took at Tlemsen, and has sent to the Sultan.”
I left the tent without answering Ben Faka, and saw two unfortunate soldiers, half naked, barefooted, and in a state of indescribable wretchedness, whom the chaous were driving along with their sticks, just as a butcher goads the tired beasts to the slaughter-house. They halted before the Sultan’s tent, and I attempted to approach, in order to question them, but was immediately driven away by the chaous.
I went back to Meurice, and was telling him what had passed when Ben Faka brought the two new prisoners into our tent, and gave each of them a haick. I beckoned them to draw near, and asked them their names, the regiments to which they belonged, and where they came from.
“My name is Bourgeois,” replied the first; “I am an old soldier in the eleventh, and my comrade Fleury is an ex-soldier of the sixty-sixth; we both belong to the battalion at Tlemsen.”
“Has there been a fight there then?” said I.
“None whatever, Sir. I will tell you how it was. The Bedouins had pressed hard upon the town for some time, and no provisions could be brought to market, and so you see the garrison was put upon short commons. One’s appetite grows with eating, they say; but I assure you it grows much faster with an empty stomach; and one morning, when Fleury and I were more sharp set than usual, we bethought ourselves that we would go and forage like the Bedouins. There were plenty of fruit trees outside the town, and so, without more ado, we went out to make a meal off them. After eating our fill, we were going back to the town again; but we had reckoned without our host. The Bedouins caught us like larks in a snare; and not content with having taken us prisoners, they have given us the strappado the whole way. They say, to be sure, that Abd-el-Kader has given orders to take as many prisoners as possible, and not to cut their heads off, and I suppose that is the only reason why ours are still upon our shoulders; but they have treated us brutally. However, now that we are come to Abd-el-Kader’s royal palace, as you may say, I hope we shall not be quite so ill-used. But, Lieutenant, if you write to the Governor please don’t forget just to speak a word for Bourgeois and Fleury, for these quarters are not at all to our liking.”