'Daylight dawned upon the Kabyle hills on the morning of the 24th June, 1857, and its light streamed over the serried ranks of the second division, as, under the command of General MacMahon, the head of the column marched out of the lines of Aboudid.
'Before it lay the heights of Icheriden, with its village and triple row of barricades, behind which the men of the Beni Menguillet anxiously watched the progress of the foe. The path of the column lay along a mountain ridge, and it was strange to see that column of between six and seven thousand men, advancing quietly and composedly, the birds singing around them; the Kabyles crowning every available hillock, the hawks and eagles slowly wheeling in large circles over their heads, and the bright rays of the morning sun gleaming on brighter bayonets.
'The Kabyle barricades remained black and silent as ever; not a bournous was to be seen, as the 54th and the Zouaves received orders to carry the position at the point of the bayonet. Before them lay a ridge covered with brushwood, affording capital shelter, but at about sixty or seventy paces from the stockades the brush had been cleared away, and now the occasional gleam of a bayonet, the report of a musket or two fired against the stockade, the loud ringing of the trumpets, as they gave forth in inspiriting tones the pas de charge, and the wild shouting of the men, as they pushed their way forward, told of the progress of the attack.
'Still the same stern heavy silence reigned over the hostile village. Was it indeed deserted, or was it the silence of despair? But now the bugle notes became shriller and more exciting; the shots quicker and more steady, as emerging from the bush, the attacking column rushed forward to the attack. Sixty paces of greensward were before them: but instantly, and as if by magic, a thousand reports broke the silence of the dark stockades, a wild yell rose from their defenders, as the hail of lead fell on the advancing regiments, and a long line of dead marked the advance. The Kabyles leaning their pieces over the joints of the trees, where they were fitted into each other, and through crevices and loopholes, offered little or no mark themselves to the shot; whilst not a ball of theirs missed its aim.
'But the Zouaves were not to be daunted; and leaving the ground dotted with their dead and dying comrades, on they rushed, a wild cheer rising from their ranks, and a volley of balls pattering a reply. Again the line of fire burst from the dark stockade, and the advancing column withered away. The ground was strewn with fallen forms, and the fire of the stockade fell fast and sure. The men gave way, seeking the shelter of the bushes; their officers dashing to the front, vainly attempting to lead them on. It was useless—even the sturdy Zouaves refused to cross the deadly slope, for to do so was death; on the green slope, across which the balls hurried fast and thick, lay whole ranks of French uniforms.
'The fire from stockade and bush raged fast and furious; well kept up on the side of the French, more deadly on that of the Kabyles, and still the men would not advance over the uncovered space, for it was certain death. Two thousand Kabyle marksmen lined the loopholes, and the balls now began to whiz round the heads of the generals and their staff.'
General MacMahon, who was wounded in this engagement, at last resorted to shells to dislodge the defenders; the result was successful, and the whole ended in a panic.
'Fast and furious now became the flight of the Kabyles, and all was havoc and confusion. The men of the Legion, mixed up with the Zouaves and the 54th, dashed after the fugitives, entering the villages with them, and bayoneting right and left with savage shouts, whilst down the steep sides of the hills, away over the ridges to the right and to the left, the waving bournous might be seen in flight!'
The curtain fell upon the Kabyle war soon after this action, and large detachments of troops were at once told off to build the fort. All around, on every promontory and hill, the little white tents were scattered thickly, and the sound of the bugle, and the sight of the red kepis of the soldiers, prevailed everywhere. But the war was practically over, civilians came up from Algiers—some to see, and some to trade—and quite a little colony sprung up. And here, on one of the heights shown in our little sketch, we establish ourselves again—whilst the Kabyle villages still smoulder in the distance, and revenge is deep in the hearts of the insurgent tribes, 'one peaceful English tent' is pitched upon the heights of Beni-Raten, and its occupants devote themselves to the uneventful pursuit of studying mountain beauty. We endeavour (and with some success) to ignore the military element; we listen neither to the réveille, nor to the too frequent crack of a rifle; our pursuits are not warlike, and, judging from the sights and sounds that sometimes surround us, we trust they never may be.