We had no occasion to follow this example. The protection of the British Government, and the interest shown in our journey by the British Minister, were quite sufficient arguments on our behalf, and with the courteous assistance of the Spanish consul the arrangements for our excursion were soon settled. The requisite orders were issued by the Kaïd, and two soldiers were appointed, along with our Tangier men, to escort us on the following morning.
In spite of the usual delays, we started in good time on the morning of the 11th, and, descending over successive ledges of tufa, forming terraces for gardens and orchards, soon reached the level of the river, which was easily forded. The air was cool (55° Fahr. at 6 A.M.), the sky bright, and the hedges gay with the evergreen rose (R. sempervirens), and the large-flowered form of the hedge convolvulus (C. sylvatica), which in the South replaces our more modest Northern form, C. sepium of Linnæus. A short ascent among trees and high hedges took us clear of the cultivated land, and the aspect of the country at once changed. The upper part of the mountain is disposed in tiers of limestone crags, irregularly disposed, and therefore offering no difficulty for the ascent; but round the base are rather steep and very arid slopes, formed, in great part, of old accumulations of débris fallen from the upper crags. The most conspicuous shrubs are lentisk, oak scrub, Juniperus phœnicea, and several Cisti; but the palmetto successfully contends against its rivals, and in some places quite covers the soil. It disappears, however, before one reaches the middle height of the mountain, and the limit of its free growth, not taking account of a few scattered and stunted specimens, was found to be 1,227 feet (374 mètres) above the sea. The prevailing species, however, were small shrubby Leguminosæ. Of these the most trying to the temper of the botanist is Calycotome villosa. This and the allied species (C. spinosa) are very common in the warmer parts of the Mediterranean region, and the stiff spiny points of the numerous branches are most effective in tearing the clothing and the skin of anyone who approaches them.
We followed a tolerably good cattle track which wound upwards to the right, in a southerly direction, towards the upper part of the mountain. Before reaching its middle height, on some crags facing towards Tetuan, we found a peculiar saxifrage (S. Maweana), first collected by Mr. Webb more than forty years before, but which, with several others, remained unknown and undescribed in his Herbarium. Maw refound the plant in 1869, and has successfully cultivated it, along with many other Marocco rarities, in his garden in Shropshire. On the same rocks, besides numerous interesting plants not yet in flower, we gathered a curious crucifer (Succowia balearica) which must flower very early as the fruit was already approaching maturity.
As we really desired nothing more than to be let to wander about on the mountain according to our own fancy, we were rather pleased than otherwise when our escort of four soldiers with the guide, seeming to think that they had done enough of mountaineering after an ascent of some two thousand feet, proceeded to instal themselves, with the horses, who enjoyed a day of rest, in a pleasant spot, and showed no sign of pushing the enterprise farther. A steep slope now led us up to the rocky ridge of the mountain commanding a wide view, and overlooking a deep glen on the seaward side of the mountain. Here, in spite of the early season, we found several plants in flower that excited in us a lively interest. A little polygala, with rich purple red flowers, reminds one much of the red variety of P. chamæbuxus that is often seen in the Eastern Alps, but appears to be quite distinct. A chrysanthemum, differing little from an Algerian species, was our first acquaintance amongst a group of forms that is especially characteristic of the flora of the Great Atlas. But we were, perhaps, still more pleased to find on these heights, far removed from the nearest known station, some descendants of a suffering race that must, at some remote period, have been widely spread throughout Europe, the bright-flowered Ranunculus gramineus. Although it is still found at several places in France, in a few spots in the Alps, and in Spain, it appears to have disappeared from the Apennines within the last two centuries, and to be everywhere losing ground. When the rapacity of collectors shall have reduced it elsewhere to the condition of a vegetable Dodo, future travellers may rejoice that it has found a refuge in this corner of Africa. The distribution of the genus Ranunculus, in nearly every known country, supplies many topics for thought and inquiry. There are very few regions where the unbotanical traveller fails to recognise the familiar buttercup of his youth; yet, if he examines the plants, he will find well-marked differences in the leaves, the fruit, the stem, or the root, though the flowers may be scarcely distinguishable. Since our first landing in Marocco, buttercups had met us in all directions; but they nearly all belonged to one variable species, R. chærophyllos, widely spread round the warmer shores of the Mediterranean. In shady places we had a few times gathered another North African species, R. macrophyllus, and on this mountain we found a few specimens, already past flower, of R. spicatus; but of all the common species of Britain and Middle Europe, not one had been seen, unless we count the ubiquitous white-flowered species of our ditches, R. aquatilis.
From the time we first got a clear view of our mountain we had fixed on a range of beetling crags, not far below the summit, which promised to afford an excellent habitat for rare plants. The promise was kept, for we had scarcely approached their base when with joyful cries we saluted one of the chief prizes of our excursion. From clefts on the face of the rock hung great leafy tufts, quite a yard in diameter, supported on stems as thick as a man’s arm. The flowering branches produced an abundance of yellow flowers, then just expanding and only partly opened. We should have set it down as a new and very luxuriant species of wild cabbage, but that we happened to know that the fruit is entirely different, so much so as to constitute a very distinct genus of Cruciferæ. Mr. Webb, who probably gathered the plant at this very spot, described and figured it, in the ‘Annales des Sciences Naturelles,’ under the name Hemicrambe fruticulosa; but the original specimen seems to have been lost or mislaid, and no one had since laid eyes upon the living plant. The same rocks produced abundantly the beautiful Iberis gibraltarica, besides many fine plants not yet in flower, amongst which we recognised the rare Spanish centaurea, C. Clementei.
As seen from Tetuan, the ridge above the rocks appeared to lead very directly to the not distant summit of the mountain; but when, after a short scramble, we had set foot upon it, we clearly saw our mistake. At about a mile and a half from where we stood, and separated from us by a rather profound depression, was another ridge, some three or four hundred feet higher, which might or might not be surpassed by more distant prominences in the same range. It would have been easy to reach the farther summits, but we thought our time better spent in carefully examining the part of the mountain within our reach. Various indications, such as the disappearance of several species that are abundant lower down, and the much more backward state of the vegetation, went to prove that the climate of the upper plateau is sensibly different from that of its middle region; but there was little to show that we had reached the limit of a true mountain, much less that of a subalpine flora. We had, indeed, already found a variety of the large-flowered Senecio Doronicum, which in the Alps and Pyrenees ascends even to the Alpine region; and near our highest point Ball found a form of Erodium petræum, which in the Pyrenees and Northern Spain usually attains the subalpine zone. The season was still too little advanced; and the naturalist who will follow our footsteps about the beginning of June may expect a much richer harvest.
Having taken observations for altitude, which give height of about 3,040 feet above the sea for our station, we halted a few minutes to enjoy the noble panorama that was spread out below us. On the western side successive undulations of the ground—range beyond range of low hills—melted away into the horizon, but as the eye turned northward it rested on a more varied picture. To the right of the Angera Mountains and Ape’s Hill a small dark islet seemed to stand out from the Spanish coast. In this we scarcely recognised Gibraltar, for the shadow of a cloud happened to rest on its grey limestone cliffs. To the right extended a long reach of coast line, foreshortened from the promontory of Ceuta to the mouth of the river below Tetuan, with the much more distant outline of the Serrania de Ronda in the background. Then as we turned eastward, though the view was partly interrupted by projecting spurs of the mountain, we followed the long outline of the coast range of North Marocco, the secure refuge of the unconquered Riff tribes, whose fastnesses have never been profaned by the presence of an alien master. Some patches of dark shade evidently indicated forests, and these may probably consist wholly or in part of the Atlantic cedar, although that tree is not positively known to grow in Marocco.[3]
In order to cover as much ground as possible during the descent, we here agreed to take different directions, and lost sight of each other for some time. Hooker came upon a small mountain village, or hamlet, where several Bereber or Riffian families were crowded together in hovels built of mud mixed with stone, and rather better fitted to resist the weather than the sheds we had seen in the plain. Conversation was not practicable, but there was no indication of ill will on the part of these people. The only attempt at intercourse was on the part of one sturdy man who apparently requested a pinch of snuff, but declined the offer of a cigar. The use of tobacco for smoking appears to be unknown in Marocco, while kief—prepared from the chopped leaves of common hemp—is almost universally employed for that purpose both by Moors and Berebers; but snuff is in general request, and is imported in considerable quantities, both by regular traders and by smugglers who profit largely by the heavy duty.
In descending the mountain we observed large patches of a species of furze, smaller and stiffer in habit than our common gorse—the Ulex bæticus of Boissier—one of a group of nearly allied forms that replace our British species in the south of Spain and Portugal, and the neighbouring shores of Marocco.
On rejoining our so-called escort, we agreed that the track was too steep to make riding pleasant; and thus we all descended on foot till near the foot of the mountain, when a proper care for their dignity compelled the soldiers and the guide to remount.