The
'Suffren,' In Which The Prince De Joinville Commanded The Bombardment Of
The Town, Stood Right Over This Entrance, On The Northern Channel,
Having South-East The Isle Of Mogador, And North-West The Coast Of The
Continent.
The Prince took up a bold and critical position, exposed to
violent currents, to grounding on a rocky bottom, and to many other
serious accidents.
[15]
[Illustration]
As we neared this difficult entrance, we were all in a state of the most
feverish excitement, expecting, such was the fury of the breakers, to be
thrown on the rock on either side. Thus, it was a veritable Scylla and
Charybdis. A man from the rigging descried several small vessels moored
snugly behind the isle. We ventured in with breathless agitation. A man
from one of the fortifications, guessing or seeing, I suppose, our
timidity and bad seamenship, cried out at the top of his lungs, "Salvo!"
which being interpreted, meant, "The entrance is safe."
But this was not enough; we were to have another trial of patience. The
foolish captain - to terrify us to the last - had to cast his anchor, as a
matter of course; and imagine, dear reader, our alarm, our terror, when
we heard him scream out, "The chain is snapped!" We were now to be
driven out southwards by the fury of the wind, which had become a
hurricane, no very agreeable prospect! Happily, also this was a false
alarm. The capitano then came up to me, to shake hands, apologize, and
present congratulations on our safe harbouring. The perspiration of
fever and a heated brain was coursing down his cheeks. The capitano lit
an extra candle before the picture of the Virgin below, and observed to
me, whilst the men were saying their prayers of gratitude for
deliverance, "Per un miraculo della santissima Vergina; noi sciamo
salvati!" - (we are saved by a miracle of the Most Holy Virgin!) which,
of course, I did not or could not dispute, allowing, as I do, all men in
such circumstances, to indulge freely in their peculiar faith, so long
as it does not interfere with me or mine.
It is well that our merchant-vessels have never been reduced to the
condition of Genoese craft, or been manned by such chicken-hearted
crews. I believe the pusillanimity of the latter is traceable, in a
great measure, to the miserable way in which the poor fellows are fed.
These Genoese had no meat whilst I was with them. I sailed once in a
Neapolitan vessel, a whole month, during which time the crew lived on
horse-beans, coarse maccaroni, Sardinian fish, mouldy biscuit, and
griping black wine. Meat they had none. How is it possible for men thus
fed, to fight and wrestle with the billows and terrors of the deep?
We had no ordinary task to get on shore; the ocean was without, but a
sea was within port. The wind increased with such fury, that we
abandoned for the day the idea of landing. We had, however, specie on
board, which it was necessary forthwith to land. Mr. Philips, captain of
the port, and a merchant's clerk, therefore, came alongside with great
difficulty in a Moorish boat, to take on shore the specie; and in it I
embarked. This said barque was the miserable but apt representation of
the by-gone formidable Maroquine navy, which, not many centuries ago,
pushed its audacity to such lengths, that the "rovers of Salee" cruised
off the English coast, and defied the British fleets. Now the whole
naval force of the once-dreaded piratic states of Barbary can hardly
boast of two or three badly-manned brigs or frigates. As to Morocco, the
Emperor has not a single captain who can conduct a vessel from Mogador
to Gibraltar.
The most skilful _rais_ his ports can furnish made an attempt lately,
and was blown up and down for months on the coasts of Spain and
Portugal, being at last driven into the Straits by almost miraculous
interposition.
What was this Moorish boat in which I went on shore? A mere long shell
of bad planks, and scarcely more ship-shape than the trunk of a tree
hollowed into a canoe, leakily put together. It was filled with dirty,
ragged, half-naked sailors, whose seamanship did not extend beyond
coming and going from vessels lying in this little port. Each of these
Mogadorian port sailors had a bit of straight pole for an oar; the way
in which they rowed was equally characteristic. Struggling against wind
and current with their Moorish rais at the helm, encouraging their
labours by crying out first one thing, then another, as his fancy
dictated, the crew repeated in chorus all he said: - "Khobsah!" (a loaf)
cried the rais.
All the men echoed "Khobsah."
"A loaf you shall have when you return!" cried the rais.
"A loaf we shall have when we return!" cried the men.
"Pull, pull; God hears and sees you!" cried the rais.
"We pull, we pull; God hears and sees us!" cried the men.
"Sweetmeats, sweetmeats, by G - ; sweetmeats by G - you shall have, only
pull away!" swore the rais.
"Sweetmeats we shall have, thank God! sweetmeats we shall have, thank
God!" roared the men, all screaming and bawling. In this unique style,
after struggling three hours to get three miles over the port, we
landed, all of us completely exhausted and drowned in spray.
It is usual for Moors, particularly negroes, to sing certain choruses,
and thus encourage one another in their work. What, however, is
remarkable, these choruses are mostly on sacred subjects, being
frequently the formula of their confession, "There is no God, but one
God, and Mahomet is his Prophet," &c. These clownish tars were deeply
coloured, and some quite black. I found, in fact, the greatest part of
the Moorish population of Mogador coloured persons. We may here easily
trace the origin of the epithet "Black-a-Moor," and we are not so
surprised that Shakspeare made his Moor black; indeed, the present
Emperor, Muley Abd Errahman, is of very dark complexion, though his
features are not at all of the negro cast.
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