The natives show no especial dislike for reptiles, excepting poisonous snakes, which, in spite of reports to the contrary, must be rare. We heard so much of them, and especially of the Cerastes (El Efah of the Moors)—popularly called the ‘two minutes’ snake,’ because a person bitten is supposed to survive so long—that at first we always carried about us a bottle of liquid ammonia, as the best, though very uncertain, antidote. But when we failed to see a single specimen, and were assured that they are found only on the coast, we gradually laid all precautions aside, and thought no more of serpents than we should have done in Europe.
About this time we discovered that one of our escort had a decided taste for reptiles, which we might have turned to account, if we had known of it, by getting him to collect specimens. He was a tall, lanky man, with a prominent nose, whom we had nicknamed, from his peculiar personal appearance, ‘Don Quixote,’ but whose real name was Sherrif Mouley Mohammed. He had captured several toads and lizards, which he carried about with him, and showed another trait of originality in being the only one of our native followers who willingly drank coffee.
The morning of June 2 was brilliantly fine, and the sun remained unclouded throughout the day, although the heat was at no time oppressive. At 9.30 A.M. we started for the ascent of the Djebel Hadid, directing our course towards a hollow in the face of the hill, for the most part thickly clothed with bushes, but showing here and there outcropping escarpments of rock that promised a more varied vegetation than the otherwise uniform stony slopes. We at once found that, in comparison with the outer slopes of the Atlas, we had entered into a region botanically new to us. The evergreen oak had disappeared, and the Arbutus, though seen near Aïn el Hadjar, was evidently rare. The Callitris, which is abundant near the base of the hill, does not ascend on its flanks, and Juniperus phœnicea was either altogether absent or very rare. In the place of all these there was an extraordinary abundance and variety of spiny bushes, such as made the day’s excursion severely remembered by the destruction of our garments and the multitude of pricks and scratches with which our bodies were covered. Rhus oxyacantha and R. pentaphylla, Celastrus senegalensis and the wild olive, with Genista ferox and G. tridens, were our chief tormentors, all, except the olive, characteristic North African species, though two or three of them have been detected in Southern Spain or in Sicily. Leaving our horses to be led up the slope, we had hot work in climbing the hill under a sun only a few degrees from the zenith, contending the while with the various thorns and hooks and prickles that molested us on every side. Every forward movement would be resisted by a dozen spines running deep into our legs or arms, and each attempt to draw back by the strong hooks with which some part of our dress was sure to be held fast. When we reached the top of the acclivity we found ourselves on the verge of a very extensive plateau, in some parts nearly dead level, in others undulating, and rising into knolls of tolerably uniform height. Before long we reached a point commanding a wide view over the country on the north side of the range of hills. The slopes below us appeared to be under cultivation, and suggested the presence of a numerous population; but the distant plain of Akermout, lying somewhat east of due north, did not to our eyes afford any sign of cultivation. Jackson gives a view[3] of the Djebel Hadid as seen from the plain of Akermout, with a ruined town in the foreground, which he declares to have been utterly destroyed by the plague about the middle of the last century. The ruins, which have been seen by other travellers, being about 30 miles distant from Mogador and fully 15 from the point where we stood, were naturally not perceived by us.
Along the range of these hills are many saints’ tombs, usually standing on some prominent point above the general level of the plateau. One of these was on a slight eminence somewhat higher than that first reached by us. Our escort, on this occasion limited to three soldiers, displayed great anxiety lest we should attempt to enter the zaouia, doubtless believing that our presence would profane the sanctity of the spot.
We strained our eyes to make out as much as possible of the Great Atlas range from the vantage ground we had now attained; but the air was hazy towards the southern horizon. A faint outline was, indeed, distinctly traceable, and was sketched by Ball, but no details of any kind could be distinguished.
We estimated the height of the hilly range, where we ascended it, at about 1,500 feet above our camp at Aïn el Hadjar, which we had found to be 504 feet above the sea-level. It is not likely that any part of the Djebel Hadid much exceeds the limit of 2,000 feet above the sea, but, in a range fully 25 miles in length, it is not possible to compare altitudes accurately by the eye.
The Cistus tribe was the chief ornament of the vegetation here; and it was interesting to observe that the species were to a great extent different from those that abound in the inland districts and on the lower slopes of the Atlas. Cistus salviæfolius and C. polymorphus, both variable species, are common to this and the Atlas, although, strange to say, the latter widely-spread Mediterranean species has not been found in North Marocco. Helianthemum virgatum, hitherto seen everywhere on dry stony ground, was here wanting, as were H. niloticum and the less common H. glaucum and H. rubellum. In their places the top of the hill was in some places quite covered by large bushes of H. halimifolium and H. lavandulæfolium, both laden with masses of bright yellow flowers. On the slopes we also found H. canariense, one of the very few species, not strictly confined to the coast, that are exclusively limited to the Canary Islands and South Marocco. Another rare species of the same genus, now first seen by us, was H. Lippii. This seems to have been originally a desert plant, the sole representative of the genus in the arid regions of Beloochistan, South Persia, and the Arabian desert, whence it has spread westward through Egypt to the skirts of the Sahara. Beyond its natural home, it has been found here and there, but rarely in Syria, Asia Minor, Sicily, and South-western Marocco, and may not improbably be detected in South-eastern Spain.
Growing among the bushes on the upper part of the hill we found, in some abundance, the wild spiny form of the cultivated artichoke; whether truly indigenous, or carried hither by former inhabitants, it was impossible to decide.
On returning to our camp, some time before sunset, we found that Mr. Carstensen had received letters from Europe that bore intelligence of the terrible scenes enacted in Paris during the last days of the Commune and the final suppression of the insurrection. As was but natural, this completely engrossed our thoughts and our conversation during the evening. It was depressing to think that in the midst of the so-called advanced civilisation of Europe, to which we were now returning, ferocious passions, surpassing in their destructiveness those of the barbarian or the mere savage, may lie concealed until some unexpected shock causes their explosion.
The night was even cooler than the preceding one, and to our surprise the thermometer, about a quarter of an hour after sunrise on June 3, marked only 56° F. We employed a couple of hours in the morning in rambling about the gardens and irrigated ground near the springs, without adding much of interest to our collections, and at about 8 P.M. started for Mogador.