There is no uncertain line of demarcation between it and the rich forest-land beyond; it ends abruptly in a high bank, sometimes rising like a cliff 30 feet high, sometimes sloping gradually down a valley, like a glacier, but always advancing and swallowing up the vegetation in its course. In some places it is absolutely destitute of any plants; in others broom and tufts of diss grass occur, while a few peaks higher than the general level, or some valleys sheltered from the north-west, appear like islands of verdure in this sea, or oases in this desert, of sand.
It is very interesting to watch the process by which it advances; this was quite visible even after the heavy rains which preceded our visit, and which had rendered the surface comparatively hard. It must be much more marked when the surface is dry. On placing the eye so that the edge of the sand-hill stands out in relief against the sky, a distinct haze, caused by minute particles of sand in motion, is observable, and sand and sky appear to be shaded off into each other.
The contrast between this scene of desolation and the glorious forest-land beyond, lightened up with patches of cultivation and broad grassy slopes, is most striking. After passing the sandy district, which is neutral ground between the two hostile tribes, the road passes through the forest, at a place called Sook et-Toork. The trees are of considerable size, consisting of wild olive, evergreen and deciduous oak, aspen and juniper, while the under shrub is of broom, heath and bracken.
A short ride brought us to the head-quarters of Sheikh Murad, head of the Mekna tribe (pl. Amakin). This good man was by no means glad to see us, and did not even offer us a drink of milk, but after some persuasion he sent his Khalifa to conduct us to Tabarca, and show us the best means of crossing the river there, if indeed the operation were possible, which he doubted.
His fears were too well founded: when we reached the right bank of the Oued el-Kebir, which enters the sea close to the island of Tabarca, we found it a deep and rapid river, over which no animal, far less a laden mule, could pass. And although we saw the island and the Bey’s fort not a mile beyond us, we had no alternative but to turn round and seek the hospitality of some douar of the dreaded tribe of Khomair. Our escort looked grave: but as long experience had taught us that they were extremely brave where there was no danger, insolent and exacting when they were sure of meeting with no resistance, but meek as lambs amongst such as set their master the Bey’s authority at defiance, and were little likely to brook interference from them, we paid little heed to their forebodings, and under the guidance of the Khalifa of Mekna, we went up to one of the largest douars in sight, and claimed hospitality for the night.
We appeared to be regarded with some distrust, nothing like a cordial welcome was accorded to us, but the owner of the hut placed it at our service. It was not more than fifteen feet square, reeking with foul odours, the ground splashing with liquid manure, and our party consisted of ten persons besides ourselves. The family of the host added four or five women and children to the number, so we felt that it would be quite impossible for all to spend the night within the building. In spite, therefore, of the glances of alarm which the proposition elicited from our escort, we insisted on pitching our own tent in the vicinity. No sooner was this done, and we had commenced to prepare our dinner of preserved meat with the aid of a spirit lamp, than a great circle of wild-looking fellows gathered around us and watched our movements with wondering gravity. They allowed us to eat our meal without interruption, which done, we commenced to amuse them by the exhibition of compasses, barometers, tricks with pocket-handkerchiefs and string, and my companion, who is an unerring shot, astonished them by the accuracy of his aim. I do not think, however, that it was until we produced a pot of jam, and distributed it to the assembly, that we entirely succeeded in gaining their affections. Suddenly they all thawed in a most amusing manner, and we became the best possible friends. They declared that we must never leave them; they would give us land and sheep—and as for wives! the full number of four each was at our disposal on the most reasonable terms. They at once offered to escort us by land to La Calle, or to take us to any part of their country we pleased to visit, and we felt that the pacific conquest of the dreaded Khomair had been accomplished.
The Oued el-Kebir, which in part of its course is known as the Oued ez-Zan, or river of oak-trees, is the ancient Tusca, which formed the boundary between the Roman province of Africa and Numidia. It continued to be the boundary of the native states which succeeded the Roman occupation, and eventually between the pachaliks of Algiers and Tunis. After the French occupation of Algeria the limit was fixed in its present position, considerably further west.
In some maps it is also called the Oued Barbar; such a name is quite unknown at the present day, but it is given, no doubt, on the authority of Marmol, who accompanied the expedition of Charles V. to Africa, and having for twenty years followed the standard of that Emperor, was subsequently taken prisoner, and remained seven years and eight months in captivity in North Africa. He says:—
‘The Hued-yl-Barbar is another great river, which has its source in the great Atlas, near the town of Lorbus, in the kingdom of Tunis, and makes so many turnings and windings in these mountains that travellers who go from Bone to Tunis pass it twenty-five times, and during all this course it has neither a bridge nor a boat. At the end of its course it enters the sea, near the port of Taburc, at six leagues from the town of Begge’ (El-Badja).[233]
The valley in which it flows is unsurpassed for fertility and beauty; it is hardly possible to conceive one better suited for colonisation, or a locality which could more easily be made a centre of agricultural and industrial prosperity. It is about two miles wide at Tabarca, and stretches far away among the mountains to an unknown distance. It is flat, covered with rich crops and pasture, and dotted throughout its whole extent with fine trees. It is traversed by three streams; the main one is the Oued el-Kebir, the ancient Tusca, the eastern one the Oued es-Sahila, and the western one the Oued el-Ahmer. At present it is perfectly pestiferous, and the mortality amongst the troops stationed at Tabarca is alarming, although the men are relieved every two or three months. Ever since we crossed the Oued Zergäa, on our way to El-Badja, we had met small groups of fever-stricken wretches who had formed part of the garrison here, and who were going back to Tunis to recruit their health. We never failed to get an affirmative answer when we put the question on passing them, ‘Are you from Tabarca?’