Accordingly, on Monday, the 26th of March, we set out at five o’clock, on a most wretched morning. The vehicle was the most miserable locomotive contrivance I ever saw. Drawn by two horses, it pounded and churned along a most detestable road. We were obliged to get out several times, and in one place we stuck in the mud for twenty minutes. It was only by dint of putting our united shoulders to the wheel, that we succeeded in extricating our unhappy chariot from its stationary position. At length our eyes were gladdened by the sight of the defile which opens on the lake Metitza, where Count Z–––’s property is situated. Though of Polish origin, the Count is an Englishman, and has, I believe, been an officer. Right gladly we alighted from the carriage, and, loading our guns, prevailed on some Italian fishermen to take us out in a boat for a pop at the wild ducks which we saw flying about by hundreds, bagged a few, and then returned to find that the Count’s keeper had come down, under the impression that we were poachers, with a firm determination to take us into custody there and then. The production of our letter of recommendation brought him back to civility, and 44 produced an offer to take us out shooting; Count Z––– himself was absent in London.
There is an establishment here for the manufacture of oil from putrid fish, which agreeable occupation announced itself in the shape of such an overpowering odour, that I seized a glass of cognac, and fled precipitately, taking my way towards the caravanserai of Ain Mokra. Poor old Nero, whom I had brought with me, got into a scrape here, and narrowly escaped being drowned. It appears that the putrid entrails of the fish are thrown into a kind of pond, which is thus filled with a slimy mixture resembling clay, and exhaling a most horrible odour when exposed to the sun’s rays. Nero contrived, in some way or other, to slip into this delectable compound, and there he would have remained, had I not laid hold of him and pulled him out by main force. I at once had him washed and scrubbed, and even emptied some scent on him, but in vain; for days afterwards, poor Nero carried about with him a reminiscence of his odoriferous adventure, which rendered his absence most desirable to the comfort and well-being of his friends. I sallied forth about four miles from Ain Mokra, and lay in ambush for boars, but none appeared, and only shot some jackals––a very poor substitute for the nobler game I had missed.
R. Pheney, lith. M. & N. Hanhart, Impt.
SHOOTING WILD DUCKS NEAR AIN MOKRA, PROVINCE OF CONSTANTINE, ALGERIA.
At five, next morning, I went out to shoot on the lake. I got Angelo to row a boat slowly among the reeds, and soon saw hundreds of wild ducks, teals, 45 and large white birds of whose name I am ignorant; they looked to me like flamingoes. I could only succeed in bagging a few, as they were exceedingly shy, and made off as soon as the boat approached; moreover, the rushes were not thick enough to afford us an effectual concealment. As the miasma from the lake was sufficiently powerful to threaten fever, we returned to the caravanserai, where we breakfasted, and, after shooting a few quails, returned in our carriage, at one o’clock, to Bona. My driver, who sat beside me, was a very loquacious old soldier, who had served in the campaigns against the Arabs under Baraguay d’Hilliers and Youssouf, and been present at the capture of Milianah and Medeah. The Arabs, he said, never met the French fairly en bataille rangée, but always fired from ambush at the rear-guard, and in this way killed a great number of men. He described the conduct of the Arabs to their prisoners as very merciless. They never gave quarter, and frequently mutilated their captives; the women, in this particular, being more cruel than the men. I was informed, on my return, that the party who came out last year to shoot, had only killed four lions in as many months, though they had “all appliances and means to boot,” and always kept several Arabs in their pay.