Before reaching the river Mishra-el-Hashef, some miles to the west of Tangier, he found his own sturdy pony awaiting him, and riding this, his favourite mount, he galloped to the river bank where the ferry, rowed by two men, awaited him. Shouting to them to stand clear, he jumped his pony into the boat, and out again on reaching the further side. He arrived at Tangier having ridden the whole distance in five hours.
The escorts appointed to accompany him returned to their quarters, having failed to keep Mr. Hay in sight. ‘It was useless,’ said they. ‘We galloped along behind him but he ran away from us, and as soon as he had gone a little way ahead he spread large wings and flew away with his horse!’
As Mr. Hay wore a loose Inverness cape, to protect him from sun and weather, the fluttering of this may have suggested the idea of wings.
An account of a curious and unpleasant adventure which befell Mr. Hay, and which points to the unsettled and fanatical state of the inhabitants of Tangier at that time is given in the following letter to his wife’s sister, Mme. Marcussen.
July 29, 1849.
I have also had an affair—and as it may probably be stuffed into some newspaper which might report my death, as was done once before, I will tell you about it in a few words.
A few days ago I was accompanying A., perched on her donkey, and the two children to Madame F.’s. On passing through the little market-place I had remained rather behind to take care of R., who was holding my hand, when I was assailed with abuse without the slightest cause by a wild-looking Hadj from the interior—and, on my calling on the bystanders to arrest him, the fanatic made at me and struck me a blow in the face and on the shoulder, hitting also by chance poor little R. I had nothing in my hand but my little gold-headed cane. Of this, however, I made good use; for I immediately struck the bare head of the Moslem who instantly fell to the ground, stunned, with a gash of several inches from which issued torrents of blood, whilst the wretch looked livid and appeared to be quivering in the convulsions of death. Several of the Hadj’s brethren were near me, but they all seemed so alarmed at the fate of the wounded man that they did not venture within reach of my little stick. You may imagine my astonishment at the effect of such a blow from so small a weapon, and you may imagine also, though I was justified in defending myself, my horror at the appearance of the wounded man.
The man was sent to prison and his head examined. The skull was not hurt, but there was a large gash of the skin and plenty of blood from a severed vein. This was soon put to rights, and as the wretch had received a good lesson for attacking a Christian, and all his brethren came to me to intercede for him, as he was about to embark on board a vessel for Alexandria, I let him out of prison and prevented Basha giving him the bastinado as he had intended. ‘Voilà tout.’
It may be added in connection with the incident here recounted by Mr. Hay that, surrounded though he was by a crowd of angry fanatics—very different in those remote days from the generality of the native population as known to the tourist in these later and more civilised times—he stood his ground, alone and undaunted, and the moment after he had felled his assailant, his only remark was, while pointing to the fallen man with his stick, ‘Erfed e’jifa’ (Take away the corpse).
No fear of consequences held back the wild pilgrims who hated the Christian with the blind, unreasoning hatred of ignorance and fanaticism; his individuality alone kept them in check, where another man might have been torn to pieces.