The following article appeared in the Saturday Review, and may serve to show one of the elements of difficulty against which I had to contend. Quite naturally, the country people thought that I was a filibuster.

The Voyage of the “Tourmaline.”

The southern province of Morocco—that which extends from Agadhir-Ighir to the Wad Nun—is called the Sus. Hanno is said to mention it in his famed Periplus. The Romans knew it vaguely. Suetonius may or may not refer to it when he speaks of a rich province below the Atlas; but his work is lost, and what remains comes down to us through Pliny, who himself laments the Romans took so little trouble to explore the coast. Polybius wrote of it; but what Polybius knew about the Sus is left so vague, that renowned, grave, arm-chair geographers have almost come to blows about it, as men of literature have done as to the whereabouts of Popering-at-the-Place.

Pliny certainly saw the lost writings of King Juba, and in them he met the word Asana. This Asana is conjectured (again by wise and reverend men) to have been “perhaps” Akassa, the Berber name of the Wad Nun. So that the ancients do not help us much to any knowledge of the Sus. Marmol and Leo Africanus talk of the province; but neither of them saw it, though Leo penetrated to Tamaglast, a village near Marakesh, supposed by some to be the hamlet now called Fruga. Thus little was known about the province, although travellers from Europe, as Arab writers tell us, visited the capital Tarudant, coming by Agadhir, during the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, for purposes of trade.

All sorts of legends thus sprang up about the place: demons inhabited it; a mountain spoke; magicians not a few lived near the Wad Nun; La Caba, the daughter of Count Julian, who brought the infidel to Spain, was buried in Tarudant, as the legend says; and everything throughout North Africa, strange and miraculous, occurred in Sus. Rich mines were there—gold, silver, and “diamont,” iron, tin, and antimony, with manganese and copper; the people were the most honest, wildest, wisest, and most ferocious in the world; great ruined castles, known to the natives as “Kasbah el Rumi,” were dotted here and there, though who the “Romans” were no one could tell, but probably they filled the place of the “Moros,” who, as is well known, built all houses, towers, and buildings, of whatever nature, which exceed a hundred years in age throughout all Spain.

Coming to more modern times, in 1791, the Sultan sent to the Governor of Gibraltar for a doctor to cure his son, at that time governor in the province of the Sus. An Army surgeon called LempriÈre was chosen, and, disembarking at Agadhir, journeyed to Tarudant. As far as anything is known, he is the first European who entered Tarudant since the sixteenth century, when it is certain that merchants from Holland used to journey to the annual fair. He crossed the Atlas from Bibouan to Imintanout (by the same pass, in fact, which I attempted in last October), and arrived in safety at Mogador. He gives us little or no information about the Sus, but vaguely speaks of mines, says that the country about Tarudant was fertile and well cultivated, and describes the pass he crossed as skirting along tremendous precipices, which, to my certain knowledge, is not the case.

After him comes Jackson, who published his account of the Empire of Morocco in 1809. Ball, in his appendix to Hooker’s “Morocco and the Great Atlas,” refers to Jackson’s book as being the most copious ever written about the Sus. Certainly he had special advantages, for he passed sixteen years in Mogador and Agadhir (now closed to trade), spoke Arabic and Shillah, but all he says does not amount to much. The map he made Ball considers inferior to that of Chenier, published a hundred years before his time. And so of Admiral Washington, Gerhard Rohlfs, Gate11, and Oskar Lenz. They all say little, for the good reason little is known. Although the last three travellers passed through the land, they went disguised, in terror of their lives, and are believed to have known little or no Arabic. So that it comes to this: All that we know with certainty is that a province called the Sus exists, that it stretches from close to Agadhir to the Wad Nun, a distance of some two hundred miles, with a varying breadth of about seventy at the north, where it is bounded by the Atlas mountains, the Wad Sus, and the province of the Ha-ha to a hundred or more at the extreme south, as no one knows how far the boundaries of the province stretch up the waters of the river Nun.

Round about Agadhir the country has been visited, and is reported to be very like the provinces of Shiadma and the Ha-ha, which bound it to the north, that is, it is in general configuration flat and sandy, with stretches here and there of reddish argillaceous soil, but both soils greatly grown over with thorny bushes, and here and there well cultivated. Politically the province owns the Sultan of Morocco’s sway, but his authority extended lately but to Tarudant, the district called Taserouelt, in which is situated the Zowia of Si Hamed O’Musa, now represented by Sidi Haschem, and to the great Arab tribe of the Howara who occupy the country between Fonti and Tarudant. Up to the banks of the Wad Nun, where there are Arab tribes again (but wild and independent of the Sultan), most of the inhabitants of the country are of the Berber race. This race, the original inhabitants of the country before the Arab conquest, has never been entirely conquered, and between them and the Arab conquerors a strong enmity exists.

The chief trade of the province has always been with Mogador since the port of Agadhir was closed by the great-grandfather of the present Sultan. It consists of wool and camels’ hair, goat-skins and hides, bees’ wax, a little gold dust, ostrich feathers, gum-arabic, cattle and sheep, almonds, and all the products of the Sahara, for most of the trade from the western portion of that district comes to Mogador. In return, they take Manchester goods, powder, tea, sugar, cheap German cutlery, and all the wonders which human nature has to suffer to produce, and enrich the manufacturers of Leeds, Manchester, Birmingham, LiÈge, Roubaix, and the like in turning out. So thus the situation briefly stood.A province, large and wealthy, the mouth of trade with the Sahara, supposed to contain rich mines, though on this head nothing is known with certainty, except that a little copper is worked near Tarudant, though the natives say gold, silver, iron, and magnetic ironstone exists; fertile in climate, thickly populated, and ill affected to its ruler; fanatical and largely swayed by a sort of general Witanegemot known as the “Council of the Forty,” and yet the population bound to get all supplies of European goods through the one port of Mogador.

Many and various have been the attempts to open trade direct. Pirates and filibusters, and traders with a moral sense of what was due to civilisation and to themselves, had all attempted many times to supply the poor heathen with their European trash, but never with success. Sometimes they landed, were taken prisoners, and a “diplomatic question” was superinduced until they were released. At other times they disappeared on landing and were never heard of, but still reports poured into Mogador of the great riches of the Sus. These riches to my mind are non-existent, for I have known hundreds of Susi traders, merchants, camel-drivers, tribesmen, “saints” and acrobats, from Taserouelt, but never saw a Susi who was rich.

In general, I found them tall, thin, dark-coloured men, very intelligent, fanatical, great travellers, petty traders; now and then ostrich hunters, and sometimes slave-dealers, but all were poor, although when asked they always talked about gold-mines and the riches of their land, and showed an evident desire that the various ports along the coast should be left open for European trade.

Then came the death, about four years ago, of the late Sultan Mulai-el-Hassan (may God have pardoned him!), and the disturbances consequent on the accession of a minor to the throne. The Susis without doubt thought the time suitable for movement, and no doubt hoped to be independent, and to buy powder, tea, and sugar and cotton goods, without the trouble of coming up to Mogador. Rebellions more or less partial took place throughout the province, and were subdued.

About two years ago, in Mogador, appeared one Captain Geyling, a Jewish Austrian subject, who, by some means or another, got into communication with certain discontented chiefs, whom he induced to sign a treaty with him to open up a port, start trade with the interior, work the mines, and generally to allow the country to be brought under the humanising influence of European trade. This done, he straight repaired to London, and tried to form a company, but found out, as Lydgate did before him, that “lacking money he mighte never speede.”

Then came a hiatus, which perhaps some of the gentlemen who planked their money down may like to fill up for the benefit of those who take an interest in unofficial efforts to extend the shadow of our flag.

We next find Captain Geyling back in Morocco, dressed in a single-breasted black frock-coat and fez, and turned in the interval into a pseudo-Turk under the title of Abdul Kerim Bey. Here history says, as the advance agent of the Globe Venture Syndicate he travelled like a prince, taking as many tents as would befit a travelling menagerie, plate and more plate, servants and horses, mules, guns, presents for the Kaids, and impelled by a consuming thirst to get concessions for his paymasters. With him as military adviser, attachÉ, or what not, went Major Spilsbury, and why he let himself be towed about the place by Geyling only he can tell.

Quiet but determined, a linguist, leader of men, and one of those willing to risk his life ten times a day for any syndicate, upon most reasonable terms, Spilsbury was a born filibuster. Always about to make a fortune with schemes innumerable, in which if you embarked you still stayed poor, or became poorer; but with this difference from the schemes of most men of his class, that he himself was never richer by a penny by any one of them. Geyling had said he knew the Sultan well, and as that potentate was somewhere in the south, Geyling proceeded north and waited upon the Sherif of Wazan, the spiritual head of all things in Morocco. There he seems not to have had much luck, and then went east to Fez, back to the coast, and after two or three months’ perambulation up and down the land, went to Morocco city, where he ought to have gone first. There neither Sultan nor Vizir would see him, and with his tail between his legs, he returned to Mogador, and in a little inn kept by a Jew quarrelled with Spilsbury, who, if reports be true, threatened to beat him with a stirrup leather, and the companionship broke up. Geyling Kerim went homewards to Vienna, Novi Bazaar, or for all I know joined his repatriated co-religionists in their new colony in Palestine. But Spilsbury, being apparently determined to play things out “on a lone hand,” remained in Mogador, and then embarked upon a series of adventures, the more extraordinary when one remembers that he speaks no Arabic.

How, wherefore, in what manner, or by what means, he came across him I do not know, but he fell in with an acquaintance of my own, one Mr. Ratto, born in Mogador, and speaking Arabic, and Shillah, French, English, Spanish and apparently all other tongues with equal ease. What actually they did, only themselves are in a position to record, but I suppose that, taking advantage of the unsettled state of things, the Sultan’s absence punishing refractory tribes, and the desire which every Arab chief has of getting arms to make himself quite independent of all mankind, they must have entered into negotiations with some of the chiefs of the wild tribes in Sus. Spilsbury seems to have satisfied the Syndicate in London that they could trade direct with Sus, receive concessions from the chiefs, land and construct a factory, and in time make themselves sole masters of the place. No doubt they reasoned: If we are once established, when troubles come, England must for her honour protect her subjects, and in protecting them, protect their interests, and they knew that England once committed to interference in any country (said to be rich), must of necessity remain to restore order, introduce good government, and generally to further the cause of progress and morality, which is specially her aim in every country peopled by an inferior race. What treaty Spilsbury took home is matter of conjecture, but not unlikely he got signatures from chiefs, who signed, thinking if all went well they would gain something, and if things turned out badly they could say they had been deceived, and signed a document that they had not understood. One name is certain was appended to the deed, that of M’barek-ou-Ahmed, who is now securely chained in some pestilential prison in Fez or Mequinez. Be all that as it may, Spilsbury was shortly back again in Mogador, trying to hire a vessel to convey himself, a Jew interpreter, and several samples of his goods down to Akssis, a port between Wad Nun and Agadhir. But by this time the Sultan had got wind of the affair, and sent his emissaries into the Sus to bribe the chiefs into allegiance, and what is more he had communicated with the English Ambassador in Tangier, who having sent the news to London, the expedition and its aim was laid before the Foreign Office. Presently an official notice appeared declaring that the British Government viewed with concern the meditated attempt to open trade with a part of the Emperor of Morocco’s territory against his will, and if any person went for such a purpose, he must go at his own risk. Spilsbury probably cared nothing for the protection or the displeasure of either Government, so he pushed on his preparations just as if nothing had occurred worth mentioning.

The ukase of the British Government had made it difficult to operate from Mogador, but Spilsbury, nothing dismayed, engaged a Jew interpreter, and all alone, or at the most with two or three companions, sailed for the Canaries, hired or bought a schooner, and after a passage of an abnormal length, contending all the time with contrary winds, sailed to Akssis, landed, and started to palaver with the chiefs who were expecting him, with several thousand men encamped upon the shore, having been warned most probably by Mr. Ratto to hold themselves in readiness against his coming.

Nothing more different than the inception of the Jameson affair and that so boldly planned by Spilsbury. Both gentlemen adventurers, or if you like, both advance agents of the British Empire. One flagwagging and backed up by all the “fruit secs” of the British army, champagne and sandwiches laid on at every twenty miles upon the road; the other almost alone upon a coast not visited twice in a century by Europeans, and in the hands of men who kill a man with as few compunctions as a settler up in North Queensland flogs a black to death. If he had goods to sell I know not, if he had samples of trade powder and trade guns, that is to me unknown, but anyhow, by the assistance of his interpreter, he entered into a council with certain of the chiefs, as the Sherif of Taserouelt, the aforenamed M’barek-ou-Ahmed, and others whom it is better not to name, and was about to sign a treaty with them, to open trade direct, put up a factory, work the mines, and generally prepare the way before the faces of the Globe Venture Syndicate.

But for an accident Spilsbury might have been Emperor of Agadhir, the Lord Protector of the Sus, or Rajah of Tamagrut, but Fate or the Sultan of Morocco had otherwise disposed.

Most of the chiefs of Sus were at Akssis with many of their followers, but one Sheikh with about fifty horsemen had kept aloof during the progress of the negotiations, either because he had not been considered big enough to square, or as some think because he was secretly acting under orders from the Moorish Court.

Just as the chiefs were about to sign, and each one had agreed how many rifles he was to receive on Spilsbury’s return with a well-laden ship, the Sheikh mounted his horse, marshalled his followers and plunged into the middle of the crowd, yelling and firing several shots, exclaiming: “Out with the Christians! I will not be a party to any dealings with our hereditary foes.” Thinking they were attacked in force, the followers of the other chiefs returned the fire, all was confusion, and Spilsbury, to save his life, had to retreat precipitately on board his ship, and to complete the scene, the smoke of a steamboat was seen coming down the coast. Now, as no vessels between Agadhir and the Wad Nun come near the coast, which is one of the most deserted in the world, Spilsbury knew at once it must be a vessel of the Moorish Government upon the search for him. Luckily night was near, and a fair wind sprang up which took him to the Canaries, from whence he shipped aboard a steamer and returned to England to plan another trip.

What actually he did in England during the next six months I do not know, but in November I met him at a London club, the proud possessor of the steam yacht “Tourmaline,” carrying a quick-firing gun, an assorted cargo of goods fit for the Morocco trade, and some nine thousand rifles with which he intended to arm his friends, the followers of Sidi Haschem, and the other Sheikhs of Sus. The vessel lay at Greenhithe, and was to sail next morning for Antwerp to take the rifles in; yet Spilsbury sat smoking quietly without a trace of “Union Jackism,” no word of “moral purpose,” not a suggestion of being, as Dr. Jameson seemed to think he was, a sort of John of Leyden going to set a people free. Simply an ordinary club man, talking of what he was about to do, as he had talked of fishing in Loch Tay. A well-dressed, quiet-mannered filibuster, not bellowing that he would make the Arabic language popular in Hell, after the “fighting Bob Tammany” style, but quite aware that he was venturing his life, and perilling for ever such reputation as he had. As a law-abiding citizen, I tried to show him all the error of his ways, spoke of the wickedness of all he was about to do, and watched him get into a cab with mingled feelings of disgust at the peddling syndicate which, for its wretched five per cent., was about to bring the name of England into contempt, and admiration for the man who was going quietly to risk his life in such a miserable cause.

How he sailed, reached Akssis, landed some rifles, was interrupted in his dealings by the arrival on the one hand of the Sultan’s troops under Kaid el Giluli, and on the other by the advent of the Moorish Government’s armed transport, “El Hassani”; how he exchanged shots with her, rescued his boat, but failed to save his four companions who remained captives; and how he with the yacht Tourmaline is still detained, or was up to the other day, under surveillance in Gibraltar, is well known to all. But what befel his four companions and the unfortunate M’barek-ou-Ahmed, his intermediary, has never been made public in this country yet. So, to make matters plain, I quote the letter of a French Algerian gentleman settled in Mogador:—

“Vous me demandez des nouvelles de The Globe Venture Cie, c’est bien une aventure que les bondholders Anglais ne goberont pas facilement. Vous savez que le commandant en chef, Major Spilsbury, est arrivÉ À Akssis entre Agadhir et Wad Nun, et lÀ il a dÉbarque 500 fusils, 100 caisses cartouches, 4 balles cotonnades, 25 caisses thÉ, etc.

“Le Major a eu le bon esprit de rester À bord, mais a fait dÉbarquer un jeune Anglais, le second du bord, un allemand comptable, un Juif interprÈte, et un marin portugais. VoilÀ un bouillabaisse! Enfin ils se sont Établi sous trois tentes sur la plage, avec le Sheikh avec qui le Major avait fait connaissance chez M. Pepe Ratto, et huit ou dix Arabes de l’endroit. AprÈs deux jours la frÉgate ‘El Hassani’ de sa MajestÉ ChÉrifienne est arrivÉe, en mÊme temps le Kaid El Giluli arrive par terre avec 500 cavaliers, entoure les tentes et toute la boutique est prise. Il y a eu quelque coups de fusils, deux hommes du Major (Arabes) sont blessÉs, la Tourmaline s’Éloigna vers Lanzarote, les quatre EuropÉens et le Juif sont pris, aussi que le chef Arabe (M’barek-ou-Ahmed) avec vingt de ses amis, et l’aventure est fini.

“Les Arabes ont ÉtÉ conduit au Sultan qui les a envoyÉ avec chaines se pourrir dans les prisons de Fez, et les quatre EuropÉens sont depuis prÈs de trois mois dans la maison du Kaid el Giluli À Ha-Ha, a savourer la Shisha (vous en connaissez le gout oh Sheikh Mohamed el Fasi), en attendant les ordres de Sidna. . . . Le pauvre Sheikh, M’barek-ou-Ahmed, n’avait aucune influence sur les tribus, et il ne marcha que sur la promesse que les ‘fregatas Inglise’ viendront dÉbarquer des soldats anglais, le pays sera pris, on fera du Sheikh un Kaid, et cela accompagnÉ de cent dollars, 20 livres de thÉ, et un sac de sucre, et le pauvre Sheikh a eu l’eau (et le thÉ) a la bouche.

“Un soldat qui avait conduit les prisonniers au Sultan, a dit, que sur la route, le pauvre Sheikh disait tout le temps, ‘Oh, le Nazrani m’a trompÉ, ce sont des trompeurs les chrÉtiens, il m’avait promis que des frÉgates et des soldats anglais avec des canons dÉbarqueront, et aux premier coup de fusil, son bateau s’est sauvÉ; par Dieu, ce chrÉtien doit Être un juif! mais c’Était Écrit, Allah Ackbar.’”

R. B. Cunninghame Graham.

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