CHAPTER XVI.
OPINIONS, CIVIL AND MILITARY.—A LOOK TOWARDS THE SAHARA.—WILD GEESE.—OUR SPAHIS, AND THE CARE THEY TAKE OF US.—A NORMANDY APPLE-ORCHARD IN AFRICA.—NEW YEAR’S DAY.
OME authorities declare Saïda to be an oasis in the Little Desert, some declare it to be an oasis in the Great Desert, others declare it to be in no desert at all. For my part, I wholly side with those who are of opinion that Saïda stands on the skirts of the Sahara, the Dry Country abounding in Dates, as the old maps have it; but I will leave the matter an open question to the curious, merely describing Saïda as I found it.
We had a comfortable room in the house of our coachman—for as nobody ever goes to Saïda there are no inns—whose wife was Spanish, and as ugly and dull as he was handsome and bright. As he seemed devoted to her, however, it didn’t much matter. They carried on almost as many trades as there are weeks in the year, and were evidently making money. They catered for the officers, they kept the diligence, they owned land, they had geese and cattle, they managed the post—it would be hard to say what they did not do. And they wore good clothes, lived on really dainty food, and were of importance in the place, which must have been some consolation under exile.
Our first thought was to inquire for horses and side-saddles, our second to forward our letters to the Commandant. The first request proved fruitless. There being no ladies at Saïda, how should there be ladies’ saddles? But M. le Commandant very kindly came to us at once, and told us what to see and how to see it in this oasis, as he delighted to call Saïda. He was a merry, middle-aged gentleman from Normandy, who had seen a good deal of the Desert, and bore the responsibilities of his post—which were heavy—with great ease.
“The life here seems dull,” he said, “but after long marches in the Desert and hard fighting, I assure you I am very contented to remain here. There isn’t a lady in the place, c’est vraiment triste ça, but there is an infinity of distractions in the way of work and pleasure. You see I represent both civil and military authority, having 40,000 Arabs under my jurisdiction, and this involves all sorts of intricacies, out of which I make my way as well as I can. I have to act as military commander, mayor, and prêfet, all in one; and these Arabs are difficult people to manage, I assure you.”
“They are miserably poor, are they not?” we asked.
“Pauvres diables! You may well say that, Madame. They are starving; that’s just the truth of it; and what with those who steal and murder because they are hungry, and those who steal and murder because they like it, the road from hence to Fig-gig—our last post in the Desert—is unsafe enough. Without a military escort it is impossible.”
“We were told at Oran,” I said, “that there were some grand waterfalls we could see in the neighbourhood of Saïda. Is the excursion practicable?”