Twenty years around the world

by John Guy Vassar

The American gunboat Iroquois came into Gibraltar and took our consul, Mr. Brown, to Tangiers, being the first consular return to Morocco since the war began, when those of all nations, with their families, decamped, and all the subjects of foreign governments who could, did likewise. The only consul in the whole of Morocco who remained, was the English, Mr. Hay, at Tangiers, who received express orders, and was protected by war vessels from Gibraltar, that port being considered blockaded.

Finding our steamer was going all along the Moorish coast, and thence to the Canary Islands, I concluded to embark. Our first stopping place was in thirty-six hours, at Casa Blanca, where we landed the French and Portuguese consuls, who were old residents, but, like all others, had abandoned their posts, fearing the fanaticism of the Moors, and the loss of their heads, as the wild Arabs don’t distinguish among Christians as to what race they belong. We remained a day. The Moors had heard of the taking of Tetuan, and were uneasy, and less sanguine. These two gentlemen we left, but the thought was painful, that they were running the risk of losing their lives in their own houses.

We next proceeded to Mazagan, an old fortified city of six thousand inhabitants. It is of square form, with strong walls and ramparts, situated upon an iron-bound coast. It was built some centuries since by the Portuguese, who protected it by cannon on the land side as well as the sea, and occupied it for a long time during the height of the commercial prosperity of Portugal. At length, from the encroachments of the Moors, however, they were obliged to abandon it. Before leaving, they mined it in every direction, and then by stipulation removed their population and supplies. The keys of the city having been given up, the wild Arabs rushed in, and filled up the deserted streets and houses. While looking for booty, a doubloon was discovered, and eagerly seized, which was attached by a thread to a concealed pistol, which exploded the mine, and blew up the greater part of the city, causing great destruction of life, and satisfying the vengeance of the Portuguese.

The old subterranean cisterns, or reservoirs, still exist, and are worthy of their authors, reminding one of the old Roman and Carthaginian masonry. The city is now mostly of one story buildings, with flat roofs, except consular and a few other private houses and magazines. Europeans make themselves as comfortable as possible amidst the filth which prevails ankle-deep in the narrow streets, and smells, badly suited to the olfactories, from dead dogs and cats. The English consul being absent, I noticed a dead donkey lying near his house. Himself and his colleagues had all fled the country, and cleanliness was out of the question.

The Jews from all these points along the coast had been removed, or made their escape as far as possible. Outside the walls of Gibraltar, I saw some five hundred tents, furnished by the English government, where about thirty-five hundred had congregated, and some eighteen hundred still remained. The government had given rations daily, and the French government made liberal allowances for such subjects as were under the protection of its consuls. It was a curious sight, reminding one of the descriptions of the camp of Israel. Men, women, and children, in the African Jewish costume, were performing the culinary operations of the separate households. The canvas streets had their names. The ground floors were whitewashed, or limed against infection. English sentries were on patrol, and all well regulated.

The country about Casa Blanca and Mazagan is fertile, but badly cultivated, and produces wheat and barley of excellent quality. Cattle, sheep, horses, and donkeys are kept, but the camel is the principal beast of burden. The export of horses is prohibited; other animals pay a considerable head tax. Poultry and eggs are abundant and cheap; gum, wool, and grain were the chief articles of export before the war.

We left two European merchants who had their houses there, and proceeded to this place, Mogadore, the farthest point on the Morocco coast, at which a steamer lands, and which is the chief city for the trade of the capital, Morocco, that lies one hundred and ten miles in the interior.

This is, for a Moorish city, strongly built, and is surrounded with walls. The houses are one or two stories high, and well whitewashed. The bastions and fortifications are upon a rocky shore. The small island of Mogadore forms a breakwater against the northerly storms; but like all African harbors, this is only a roadstead. The vicinity consists of desert for some miles, and then agricultural and grazing country. The town is dry and clean, reminding me of Tripoli, on the Barbary coast, for cleanliness, as Mazagan and Casa Blanca compare with Tunis for filth.

The sight of a steamer, being the first for six weeks, brought the whole population out. The walls and battlements were crowded with Arabs from the country, there being twelve hundred who had come in to protect the city from an expected attack of the Spaniards. The long white woollen mantles, or cloaks, and red caps, covering their swarthy bodies, the natural growth of black beard, and the long carabines, presented a strange aspect, as they looked grim and surly upon the Christians, and wondered what business we had there.

The women, with their heads covered with white veils, and feet with yellow boots, looked slyly at us out of one or both eyes, or were peeping through the blinds as the strangers passed.