They have made me Minister Plenipotentiary, and I am to go to the Moorish Court to present my new credentials during the winter. The Sultan is at Marákesh, or will be there when he has ‘eaten up’ a rebel tribe or two. I do not remain permanently; in fact, I should decline to do so, though I hope the day will come when we shall have the British Representative resident at the fountain-head, and thus alone can we hope that the turbid waters may begin to clear.
On March 25, 1873, Sir John, four ladies, and seven gentlemen embarked on board H.M.S. Lively for Mazagan, en route for Marákesh. Mazagan, which was reached the following forenoon, has a picturesque appearance from the sea; but of itself is an uninteresting town. The country surrounding it is flat and sandy, with only a few palm-trees and the cupolas of scattered sanctuaries, or saint-houses, to relieve the monotony of the scenery.
The entrance to the landing-place was by a passage through a curious old Portuguese breakwater, repaired some years previously by the Moorish Government at Sir John’s instigation. On landing under the customary salute, Sir John was welcomed by the Governor and authorities, who conducted him to the dwelling prepared for the Mission,—a house standing on what had been, during the occupation of Mazagan by the Portuguese in the seventeenth century, the site of a church. Its steeple, now used as a belvedere, is still standing.
The Sultan had sent a liberal supply of saddle and baggage animals, and a few extra tents of handsome Moorish make, lined and decorated within in different coloured cloths. With these were a body of a dozen ‘fraijia,’ tent-pitchers, attached to his army. These men proved most efficient and did their work smartly and thoroughly. They were all, without exception, Bokhári.
The Mission left Mazagan early on the 28th. The escort consisted of a Kaid Erha and seven officers, with some thirty troopers. ‘Kaid Erha,’ it may be explained, means ‘the Commander of a Mill,’ as, during campaigns in Morocco, a hand-mill for grinding corn is allotted to every thousand men. Hence the title of Kaid Erha given to every officer in command of a thousand. Kaid el Mia, or Kaid of a hundred, is the next grade, corresponding to the centurion of the Romans.
Besides this escort, Sir John had with him his own faithful body-guard of half a dozen men chosen from amongst the Suanni hunters, men upon whom he could depend in any emergency.
There was no important departure on the journey to Marákesh from the routine observed on entering the successive provinces. On each occasion the ‘Bashador’ was received by the Governor or Khalífa with an escort varying in number, according to the strength and importance of the province, from about twenty-five to a hundred men, who invariably indulged in a prolonged display of ‘lab el barod,’ with the inevitable concomitants of dust, noise, and delay. Each evening too, on arrival in camp, supplies of food in the form of ‘mona’ were brought and presented with the usual formalities. The Sheikh offered the ‘mona’ in the name of the Sultan, and Sir John always made a little speech of thanks to the donors.
The route followed for the next two days lay in a south-west direction, over an undulating country cultivated with wheat, barley, beans, and maize; and men were ploughing with oxen, or sometimes even with a camel and donkey yoked together. A little girl followed each plough dropping ‘dra,’ or millet-seed, into the furrows. Maize is one of the chiefs exports, since the prohibition of its exportation was removed at the instance of Sir John in 1871. The soil was a rich, dark, sandy loam, thickly studded with limestones: these had, in some parts, been removed and piled up, forming rubble walls round the crops. Fig-trees and a few palms, scattered here and there, scarcely relieved the flatness of the landscape.
On entering the hilly country of Erhamna on April 2, two horsemen of Dukála, with a couple of falcons, joined the cavalcade. They told Sir John that they had received orders from the Sultan to show him some sport; but they expressed their fear that the birds would not strike the game, as it was the moulting season and they were not in good feather.
A line of horsemen was formed, and, after riding half an hour, a ‘kairwan’ or stone plover was started. The falcon was thrown up, and soon stooped but missed her quarry. The plover seemed so paralysed by the attack that it settled in the grass, and was only compelled with difficulty by the horsemen to rise. In the second flight the falcon struck the plover, whose throat was cut, and the hawk was given a few drops of blood. Another trial was made, but the hawks seemed dull, and only came back and lighted near their masters. The falconers therefore were dismissed with a gift and many thanks. Thus the hopes we had entertained of finding a great bustard and pursuing it with the falcons was not realised, as none were met with. But, on the return of the sportsmen to the regular track, Miss A. Hay, who had remained near Lady Hay’s litter, informed them that she had seen several of these gigantic birds, which had crossed their path.