Mr. Hay and his friends assembled in an upper gallery to watch the curious rites of the sect in the courtyard below, where were gathered the native attendants and the escort with their Kaid, a grave, elderly man, always scrupulously attired in rich clothing and of an obese habit, being much addicted to ‘siksu.’
The Hamadsha, in a closely woven circle, gyrated and rocked to the sound of their sonorous drums, much to the delight of the natives, but somewhat to the perturbation of the Kaid, who, it appeared, was himself a member of the sect. The respectable old gentleman, reclining on his cushioned divan, presently sat up straight and gravely nodded his head in time to the beat of the drums. The music quickened. The Kaid’s agitation increased; unconsciously his body swayed in time to the movements of the Hamadsha.
Quicker and yet quicker moved the measure of the drums. The Kaid dashed aside his turban, exposing his bare skull. A few more moments passed and the strain became too great: the fat commander leapt to his feet, and, casting his garments from him, naked to the waist, he joined the circling, rocking fanatics.
At one side of the courtyard, near a fountain which spouted from the wall, were placed several monster earthen jars, intended for keeping drinking water clear and sweet. After jumping with his fellows for a short time, the Kaid cast his eye on these and, springing aside he seized one of them, and pitched it into the air, catching it as it fell on his shaven crown where it was dashed to pieces. He would have proceeded to do the same with the remaining jars, had not Mr. Hay called out and protested against further destruction. The Kaid therefore returned to his exercise of jumping till he was exhausted; when he retreated to another fountain, which spouted in a marble basin in the middle of the court, and sat on the top of it, in the midst of the spray, until cooled after his exertions.
Delay after delay occurred, and a man less experienced than Mr. Hay in the dilatory tactics of the Moslem might have been baffled by the ‘feather-bed resistance’ that encountered him at every turn. Again and again he writes to his wife in the same strain, ‘I do not despair of doing some good, but there are some sad rascals here.’ ‘I am riding them with a tight hand and spurs. What a faithless set they are.’ And after an even more discouraging day than usual, he comes to the conclusion that ‘In Morocco a man can be certain of nothing.’
Of the ignorance, combined with cunning, of the generality of Moorish officials, Mr. Hay frequently related the following story.
On this Mission to the Court of Morocco, he took with him a large map of Great Britain, her possessions and colonies, also maps of France, Germany, &c., as a present to the Uzir, with the idea of impressing that functionary with the extent and importance of the British Empire.
Having presented them to the Uzir, he proceeded to explain the different maps, and proved, as he thought, to that dignitary, the fact that our Sultana reigned over the largest territories and was therefore the greatest Sovereign in the world.
‘Sebarkallah,’ said the Uzir, ‘God is great. And you say all these countries belong to Great Britain?’
‘Yes,’ replied Mr. Hay, ‘Our Queen rules over them all.’