Forty years of 'Spy'

by Sir Leslie Ward

In the town, what struck me first was the persistent way in which these blind people followed one about in pursuit of coppers; many of them I was told had their eyes simmered for some quite paltry offence and in consequence were doomed for life. An occasional leper, too, one came across, but he was despicable beyond description in the eyes of his fellow-creatures.

Becoming by degrees used to the first impressions, and beginning to generalise on the surroundings, the desire came upon me to see something of the country, and for this purpose the hiring of a barb or mule was indispensable.

Mr. Harris (The Times correspondent) and my doctor friend were extremely kind in showing me round at first, and with their aid and advice I soon got to know my way about. The latter escorted me in the evenings to the different haunts of vice, the Kieffe dens, where men were lying sometimes unconscious from excessive abuse of the drug (which was smoked in a small pipe), or to a rather low Spanish music hall of a not refined or elevating character; and to while away the time, I learnt to know how these people enjoyed their leisure hours.

I have no desire to bore my readers, with detailed descriptions of the various weird and picturesque ceremonies that constantly engross the attention of European visitors in Tangier, although I feel sorely tempted while speaking of them to go on. "Sumurun" and "Kismet" illustrate them far better than I can do, and there are many well-written books on the subject.

My companion now suggested what he thought would best give me an idea of the surrounding country and coast scenery, viz. a ride to Cape Spartel[9] Lighthouse. I assented, and we hired the mules.

The view all along the route was certainly very engrossing; but at certain altitudes, looking down on the sea, I felt as though I must fall over into the abyss below, it being so precipitous! However, we reached our destination in safety and I was well rewarded by the panorama that surrounded us. After dismounting and taking refreshment, a Moor approached with what appeared to be—rather uncanny—a full-grown scorpion. After marking, with a piece of stick, a circular line on the ground he proceeded to cover it with red-hot ashes, and when this wall of charcoal was completed, to place the wretched scorpion within the circle. Naturally, it did its utmost to escape, but, growing weary in its attempts, arched its tail over its back and stung itself to death. This was termed suicide, but I fear the scorching was the cause, although it retired well into the middle of the circle first. The performance, although curious, was distinctly not edifying.

About now I was lucky enough to make the acquaintance of an English merchant—Mr. Stanbury—from Birmingham who annually visited Morocco. He knew the country and the people and could speak their language, and not only was he a useful travelling companion, but a very nice fellow to boot. As he was starting on a business visit to Tetuan, and invited me to come with him, I took this exceptional advantage of joining him, as I heard it was a place that an artist would revel in.

We were most unlucky in the day we selected to start, for it rained incessantly. I wore a common Moorish Jhelab, which, being full of grease, protected me from the damp. A soldier and muleteer accompanied us, and notwithstanding that we were well mounted, our journey was not all my fancy pictured. It is about a sixty-mile ride, and although we plodded on, the ground was so heavy that it was useless to attempt to get into the town that night. We therefore stopped half-way at the Fondak where the cattle are housed, at four in the afternoon. The rain showing no signs of ceasing, we put up for the night.

After being served with hot coffee and brandy from a primitive bar, we lay down on straw mats which apparently had not been shaken for months. My friend, as the time went on, being evidently used to an emergency of this kind, calmly went to sleep; I, on the other hand, being attacked by an army of fleas, did not get any rest before two o'clock, when I fell into a deep slumber from which I found it difficult to awake. As we had to make a start at three, I pulled myself together, but in the hurry left my gold wrist-watch behind me. The annexe adjoining the bar was occupied by the proprietor, his wife, and a coffee boy.

We were soon in our saddles, escorted as before, and entered the gates of the city, where the consul with others were in readiness to receive us. We entered a mansion, and I was puzzled to know whether it was a hotel or the Consulate, as the consul conducted us there. He was an Eastern of sorts, that was certain, and one who was evidently acclimatized to bad drainage, for I nearly choked as I was shown my room. Upon realizing the absence of my watch, the soldier lost little time in going back for it, but not finding it, brought back the proprietor of the Fondak as a suspect.