^^, 7/ T/y pp. m2rt TWO YEARS UNDER THE CRESCENT HADJI" WRIGHT SHEIK MAHOMET LABRAM From Masrata tribe, " So/is of the Sabre' ILLUSTRATIONS 1. " Hadji " Wright and Sheik Mahomet 2. Reinforcements for the Sultan {Coloured) 3. The Oasis {Coloured) .... 4. The Pilgrim's Way, Zarwia 5. A Typical Caravan, Tripoli 6. An Arab Contingent in the Desert Fonduk 7. The Bazaar at Zarwia 8. The Pass up the Mountain to Gherien 9. The Guard 10. AziziA 11. Ekrem Bey and his Tuarags 12. How the Author sometimes Travelled 13. Muheddin addressing his Men before the Fight, Zanzur .... 14. The Rally 15. A Group of Arab Chieftains, Zanzur 16. Convoy unloading inside Castle Gherien 17. Bomb discharged from P.II bursting as it strikes the Ground 18. Airships in Action, Tripoli 19. With the Turks in Thrace {Coloured) 20. Redifs Drilling 21. Nazim Pasha Frontispiece Facing p. I 25 52 52 53 53 76 82- 82 83 83 96 96 97 97 104 116 149 158 171 viii TWO YEARS UNDER THE CRESCENT 22. A Turkish Officer {Coloured) 23. LiJLE Burgas 24. The First Square Meal for Ten Days Thrace ...... 25. Line of Retreat from Lule Burgas . 26. How the Wounded travelled in Thrace 27. Troopers billeted at a Farm, Tchorlu 28. Retreat of the Turks towards Tchorlu 29. Tchatalja 30. How THE Foreign Attaches crossed the Ford at Eugene River . Facing p. 187 201 210 210 211 211 234 260 288 BOOK I TRIPOLI 9 TWO YEARS UNDER THE CRESCENT CHAPTER I INTRODUCTORY As I sit at home once more amidst the welcome comforts of peace, contrasted with the exposure and privations of the desert, and review my many years of campaigning, nearly all the world over, I cannot but feel that my most recent experiences in this direction have been in many respects the most re- markable of them all. I have been through greater hardships, I have perhaps encountered greater dangers, but I have never before been through a campaign where, In spite of all the modern facilities of communication, in spite of all the generous supply of newspaper correspondents from the world over, centralised within the comparatively limited area of conflict, there has yet been communicated to the world at large so small a proportion of accurate information regarding the origin of trouble, the progress of events, and so many deliberate and intentional misrepresen- A 2 TWO YEAKS UNDER THE CRESCENT tations made for the obvious purpose of still further weakening the weaker cause. I undertook this commission from the Central News with a perfectly unbiased mind, and I honestly believe it to be in that condition necessary to equitable judgment at the present moment. I had had previous experience with troops of nearly every nationality, and knew something — in some cases a great deal — of their individual characteristics, but of Turkey and the Turk I knew absolutely nothing. Indeed, I may perhaps go to the extent of admitting that if I had formulated any ideas about him at all, from books, from newspapers, or from hearsay, I had, in common with many other misinformed people, quite unconsciously received an impression not at all in his favour. To an extent I would explain this by remarking upon a notable characteristic in his nature, one for which I must admit a certain amount of sympathy — that is, an absolute indifference to outside opinion. Not self-satisfied conceit by any means, but a settled conviction that his actions have been so far instigated by what he, rightly or wrongly, considers to be right principles, that he feels justified in politely ignoring criticism from anyone whom he feels to be unable to sympathise with his motives. It is not altogether an undesirable trait either ; at all events it is preferable to hypocrisy. But however undefined my opinions of the Turk may have been before this campaign began, they are now very definite, very pronounced, and what has INTRODUCTORY 3 influenced them I wish now to set forth, without any excuses and without any embeUishments. In the course of the relation of my narrative I shall sincerely endeavour not to give expression to any sentiments or any feeling which I cannot justify by the introduction of facts and circumstances, well sub- stantiated. It may not be out of place to say here that it is quite impossible for any man or woman at home to have the faintest conception of, or to make any adequate allowances for, the unspeakable horrors of war. The conditions of warfare are not normal, and they cannot be judged by normal standards. To an alarming extent, quite irrespective of nationality, human nature becomes human nature no longer ; sexual distinctions, even the reverence and affection universally admitted to be due to old age and to youth, become temporarily obliterated from a brain, the senses and feelings of which are no longer under natural control. Everyone who has had the slightest experience of warfare will be in a position to justify the truthfulness of this seemingly alarming statement, and it cannot be too strongly emphasized, particularly to anyone who has heard of some terrible instance of cruelty and torture, and whose mind, naturally revolt- ing against its perpetrators, instinctively conceives a bitter hatred towards the nationality which its per- petrators happen to represent. The point at which I want to arrive is that it is most certainly not a fault of any particular nationality, it is purely and simply 4 TWO YEARS UNDER THE CRESCENT the fault, or failing, of human nature temporarily abnormal. If it is assumed by the reader that I am suggesting excuses for any one of the nations involved in the conflicts from which I have just returned I would like to correct that assumption at once, for I most certainly am not ; for whilst I have, from actual personal experience and observation, found them to be equally guilty of cruelties and outrages which, if I dared to relate them, would appal the reader with their horrors, and which only can be explained by the reasons which I have ventured to suggest, I have also witnessed many acts of humanity and tenderness which at any time, and under any circumstances, would be a credit to mankind. It will be within the memory of many of my readers, that one of the greatest painters of modern time was expelled from the country which he represented, and the exhibition of his pictures absolutely forbidden there, because his portrayal of the terrors of warfare were so vividly and faithfully realistic. It must also be borne in mind that racial differences are trivial in comparison with rehgious variances, and to a large extent this has been a religious war, than which there is no influence in the world so powerful, so disturbing. With these few preliminary remarks, very important in their way, I will begin my story. CHAPTER II TO TRIPOLI, THE UNKNOWN My journey from London to Tunis in September, 1911, was uneventful enough — its continuation from there to Sfax equally so. Sfax seems to be the end of all things to the traveller sensible at all to comfort, as the railway terminates there. Ahead of me was the seductive illusion of green fields and olive groves, which I knew only too soon gave way to the wastes of the desert; to my left the blue waters of the Mediterranean. My destination of course was Tripoli, or as near to it as any means of conveyance would carry me. I had Zwarra in my mind as a desirable spot, but it was some 250 miles by water, and at least another hundred or so by land. Their respective disadvantages were put before me by those whom I took into my confidence in no particularly encouraging manner. By the land route the likely danger to be en- countered was one or another of the prowling bands of Arab brigands, naturally restless and disturbed by conditions of war, and more likely than usual to act upon the offensive, unless the escort were adequate for defence. At sea there were at least seventy Italian boats — battleships, cruisers, torpedo boats, 6 TWO YEARS UNDER THE CRESCENT and others — keeping a ceaseless vigil for any contra- band of war, and as my credentials consisted entirely of a letter of introduction from the Turkish Embassy in London to the Commander-in-Chief of the Turkish forces outside Tripoli, it did not seem likely that any one of them who might happen to waylay me would consider me to be in every respect the most desirable person to be allowed to proceed. Sfax is an ancient walled seaport, earlier asso- ciated with piracy, but as its more modern attractions include a fairly good hotel, I made my way there to consider my future movements over the present material considerations of a good meal. It was the last of its kind for many a day. Circumstances seemed rather to suggest the sea route as being the one easier to arrange for, and as this coincided more with my inclinations I was not loath to encourage them. A servant at the hotel told me of a friend of his, to whom I was subsequently introduced, who, with his brother and two sons, ran a small six-ton boat which happened to be at that moment in the harbour. Their interests were fishing and the col- lection of a grass called halfa, from which is made ropes and matting. For both of these industries they had local rights, so that they were fairly well known, a circumstance not altogether in favour of my project, which indeed for the moment I was not anxious to confide to them. Mohammed, the captain, was a thick-set, pleasant- looking Arab of about sixty years of age. I com- TO TRIPOLI, THE UNKNOWN 7 merited upon his genial and rotund appearance, and he assured me that he had Httle else to do than to get fat. He had a house and gardens in Sfax, and three wives to look after them, with plenty of time to eat sweetmeats and enjoy themselves. In spite of all this affluence the bait of a sovereign tempted him to consent to take me with his crew for a night's fishing to the two Kergulan Islands, the banks of which were included in his fishing rights, and which lay some thirty miles off the coast. We started about ten o'clock, a beautiful starlight night, with unfortunately little wind. We were not allowed to drift out of the harbour without observa- tion, for we were immediately followed by the Customs steam launch, which hailed us and asked our business. I told them that we were going to get the nets off the islands, and they appeared to be satisfied. Once out at sea I felt that my journey had started in real earnest, and wrapping myself around with my overcoat as best I could, I settled myself down to a somewhat restless night in the open boat. It was not particularly cold, but I was glad enough to feel the warmth of the rising sun, and sorry enough to find that, although we had a good supply of food on board, we had forgotten to bring any coffee. Mohammed endeavoured to console me with the assurance that there would be plenty of coffee, plenty of everything, upon the islands ; in fact from his description I imagined that we were going to be refreshed at some place like a Tunisian open-air caf^. 8 TWO YEARS UNDER THE CRESCENT We arrived at the smaller of the two islands about noon, and anchored a little way off the shore. Our boat only drew a few feet of water, so that one of the crew very quickly w^aded ashore and secured a small boat that was lying there. The landing-stage was most primitive, consisting of large tied-up bundles of grass, which gave a very insecure footing. Once landed we started off to find the village, which, the captain assured me, was about two miles inland. It was tiring walking — a cloudless sky, burning sun, and hot sand into which the feet sunk and held. Of herbage there was very little, a blade of grass to every square yard or so. There were a few sheep about, but what they feed on I cannot think. If they rely upon the grass I imagine that they would have to perambulate an area of about thirty miles to collect enouorh for one meal. There were clusters of date palms, but the fruit was only half ripe — nice to look at, but horrible to taste. The palms grow from six or ten feet to fifty feet high, so that the fruit from some of the smaller trees was easily accessible. To the many people to whom this delightful fruit is only known as it is sold in this country, it would come as a surprise to know how it is constantly consumed where it is grown, before it is fit to eat. I picked some here ; it was then late in September. They broke off quite short, and in taste were acrid in the extreme. I wanted refreshment badly, but not of that order. We soon came in sight of the village, a typical TO TRIPOLI, THE UNKNOWN 9 Arab collection of one-storied, flat-roofed houses, built of sun-dried mud bricks and rough stones. A motley collection of human beings came out to meet us. It scarcely seemed possible, but very few of them had ever seen a white man before, as it appears that the islands have not the best of reputations, and indeed there is little reason for anyone but a native to call there. Followed by a procession of loafers, Mohammed escorted me to his boasted cafe, which was closed in consequence of its owner's indulgence in his midday siesta. I was glad enough to sit down outside and rest under its shady wall within a crowded semicircle of admirers, whilst the boys were sent off to hunt for its proprietor. He was soon discovered, and came hurrying along, full of apologies, with the key of the broken-down shanty in his hand. The main room was furnished with rough high benches around the walls for those who elected to avail themselves of their use, and matting upon the floors for those who preferred to recline. We selected the latter, and whilst we had our coffee the Sheik, or head man of the village, was sent for, that he might be intimated of the arrival of an unexpected visitor. He had probably heard of it, for he appeared almost immediately, dressed in the picturesque combined garment of head-gear and cloak, called a hram, invariably worn by the Arab, varying little excepting in size and quality. He received us with an enthusiastic welcome, a welcome that instinctively put me upon my guard, lo TWO YEARS UNDER THE CRESCENT fortunately for myself, as I will relate. His hospi- tality was profuse, considering the limitations of the bill of fare. He was determined that we should eat together before we parted, and as I was exceed- ingly hungry I was not reluctant to avail myself of the suggestion, and I was not particularly critical of the dish. It consisted of a concoction of mullet prepared in a stew-pan, seasoned with a great deal of pepper. We boasted no cutlery, so that on the principle that fingers were made before forks, we proceeded to use them to the best possible advantage ; and I may add that, under the circumstances, we succeeded very well indeed. The conversation was interesting, but necessarily somewhat limited, as my contribution to it was in French, and that not of the best, to one of the boys who conveyed it, more or less literally, to my host in Arabic. As the afternoon wore on, and it was near sun- set, I became anxious to resume my journey ; indeed I might say start it, as this visit to the island was more or less in the way of a subterfuge. Directly I gave expression to the desire my host insisted upon sending for donkeys, and as I had no wish for a re- petition of the sandy walk, I thought it an excellent suggestion. I sauntered around this quaint village whilst the animals were being found, and was interested in the discovery of a building in the course of erection, particularly as the large stones necessary for the purpose were being carried from some distance by TO TRIPOLI, THE UNKNOWN ii three or four women. Upon inquiry I learned that this was the extended residence of a somewhat wealthy merchant who had gone away to purchase a new wife, and that this extension of the building was for her accommodation. As the masons them- selves appeared to be somewhat lethargic in their movements I had the curiosity to inquire as to their rate of pay, and was told that they had none at all, but simply worked for their food in return for their services. This circumstance appeared to me to excuse somewhat their lack of enthusiasm. After about an hour the animals arrived, wonderfully like circus donkeys, with saddles like small tables such as one has been accustomed to see performers jump upon through rings of tissue paper. But it was a great deal better squatting upon even such a saddle as this than tramping through the sand, so that I promptly mounted one of them. When we arrived at the coast, as it was getting dusk, our small party was augmented by a most undesirable individual, a sinister-looking person with a cast in his eye, who appeared to be on quite familiar terms with my host. The meeting was obviously by arrangement, but there seemed to be no excuse for failing to return courtesies extended, so I invited them on board to have whatever meal we could pre- pare at the moment. It was not at all bad either, a dish known to the Arabs as cous cous. It is a mixture of semolina flavoured with saffron, and anything edible is introduced without further qualification. Fish, 12 TWO YEARS UNDER THE CRESCENT fowl, vegetable, and ground, corn with oil, salt, and pepper for seasoning. All this is served up in one common earthenware bowl, and I should imagine it to be one of the most primitive dishes that has ever survived ancient culinary methods. After the meal I gave my guests cigarettes and coffee, and I later wished that I had limited the liquid refreshment to that harmless and invigorating beverage. But in an evil moment I remembered that I had a supply of spirits in my baggage, and foolishly I produced a bottle of whisky and a bottle of rum. The whisky could not have been better, but the rum was indifferent, and it had a most undesirably enlivening effect upon my friends. The conversation may have been hampered by the unsatisfactory manner in which it had to be conducted, but it suffered from no lack of interest. At every fresh libation the Arabs became more and more excited, and when I saw the boy looking worried and con- fused, and when he failed to translate to me the voluble remarks which were being made, I began to become very curious as to their import. I leaned back and smoked my cigarette in silence for some little time, but when I found that the storm of words was rather rising than subsiding, without any comment I corked the bottles and locked them away in my bag. This action was not appreciated, and the sinister-looking scoundrel looked fiercer and more sinister-looking than ever. The Sheik looked a bit TO TRIPOLI, THE UNKNOWN 13 dangerous too, so that with the idea of bringing matters to a crisis, and in the most casual manner that I could assume, I brought my revolver unob- trusively from my back pocket and proceeded to make a careful examination of it. It had the de- sired effect, for both the Arabs immediately sprang to their feet, the villainous-looking person making one jump from his seat in the boat right into the sea and waded quickly ashore, whilst the Sheik with small ceremony of leave-taking followed him in the boat. We were only a hundred feet or so from the shore, and when they had landed they began, with many gesticulations, shouting to Mohammed. I did not like it, and insisted upon knowing something of what they had said, and also insisted that we should lift the anchor and get off at once. Mohammed was so reticent as to the nature of the conversation, and his account of it so obviously untruthful, that I tackled the boy, and it was not until violent threats had been added to the demands that I in- duced him to say anything. He then told me that the Arabs had suggested that I was a wealthy Englishman travelling for pleasure, and that I prob- ably had plenty of gold in my possession, which indeed I had. They wanted at once to overpower me and cut my throat, but apparently the sight of the revolver frightened them. They evidently thought either that I understood something of what they had said, or that I guessed their purpose. I 14 TWO YEARS UNDER THE CRESCENT further elicited the information that when they had called out from the shore they had told Mohammed that on no account must he leave the coast, as in the morning they would return armed, and with further assistance to accomplish their purpose. I turned to Mohammed and told him without much flattery what I thought of him, and what I would do to him unless he set sail immediately. He pro- tested that he feared this Sheik, and the conse- quences of disobeying him, as he was a powerful and influential man. I gave him clearly to understand that I had more interest in my own future movements than concern as to the possible consequences to him, and that unless he lifted the anchor and set sail at once I should most certainly shoot him. I emphasized the argument by again fondling my revolver, and it apparently per- suaded him, for in a very short time we were sailing quietly away from the island in a pleasant breeze. It was a fine night, and I felt disinclined for sleep. My confidence in Mohammed was not very secure either, and I was anxious to lose no more time before explaining to him what I wanted, and persuading him to give me his assistance. He listened with gesticulations of dissent as he gradually realised what I required. It was impossible, he said ; the chance of being detained by the Italians was practically a certainty, and the journey was too long and too dangerous. But I used all the persuasive TO TRIPOLI, THE UNKNOWN 15 appeals that I could invent, and I backed them up with an offer of another five sovereigns, which I pro- duced and jingled, to the one which I had already promised, and eventually to my delight Mohammed reluctantly consented to chance it. CHAPTER III TO THE SOUND OF THE GUNS But the fates were against us, for the next morning, when about twenty miles from the islands, and whilst still in the shallow water of their banks, the wind veered round to the east and rapidly increased to a gale. To add to the misery it began to rain, steadily and persistently. This craft, which I have not previously described, was an open boat of about twenty-five feet long. It certainly had a small covered forecastle, but it was little protection, and indeed it served as the receptacle for anything and everything that was in the way else- where. The only cover possible was formed by the thwarts, the wide seats across the boat, and, as can be imagined, it was not much shelter from a penetrating east wind and a driving rain. The rudder swung loosely on rope bands, and altogether I should think that she varied little from the primitive crafts of two thousand years ago. We were anchored here, with little variation as to these miserable weather conditions, for four days, and I do not think that ever before have I experienced a more hopelessly wretched, tedious, irritating four days in the whole of my life. The feelings of anxiety to get i6 TO THE SOUND OF THE GUNS 17 on, and the inability to do so, were distracting in the extreme. We were provided for a month with a good variety of food — tinned beef, sardines, butter, jam, &c. — but I thought it wise to exercise some economy, as the source of further supplies was doubtful. The octopus formed an occasional dish, but they are not exactly a delicacy, although of course only the feelers are eaten. They vary in size ; those which we caught were perhaps two or three feet in their extreme measurements. They are found sometimes, of course, as long as ten or twelve feet. The feelers are only eatable after they have been beaten with clubs for some three hours, and then they are not very palatable. Towards the end of the fourth day the wind and weather changed, and I could have shouted with pleasure when we drew up the anchor and set sail eastward. The blue sky and sea, the delightfully warm sunshine and the pleasant breeze almost ob- literated from my mind the memory of those four days of misery. I wanted to bathe, but they assured me that there were many sharks in those waters. I laughed at the idea, but when I was divesting myself of my clothes Mohammed's brother forcibly threw himself upon me and restrained me from fulfilling my intentions. I was very thankful that he did so, for just at that moment the largest shark I have ever seen cut right under our bow. I saw a number later, another one particularly large, and it is a very singular 1 8 TWO YEARS UNDER THE CRESCENT circumstance that I should see the two largest I have ever seen, in the Mediterranean, where many people would repudiate the suggestion that they existed at all. I can only suppose that they came from the Indian Ocean through the Suez Canal. I found a chunk of bacon and a big hook and tried to get a bite, but had no such luck. I left my line and bait fastened to the stern, but in the morning it was gone. I rather think that Mohammed was responsible for that, as he would think it unlucky to have the unclean food attached to his boat, and probably cut it adrift. The previous day when rummaging amongst the provisions which I had brought with me he had dis- covered this detested meat, and accidentally touched it. With a prayer to Allah for forgiveness he rushed to the forcastle and drew bucket after bucket of water before he was satisfied that he had washed away the malign influence of this evil thing. Three days after our enforced idleness off the islands I had my first sight of Tripoli ; a faint line it looked, shimmering in the hot sunshine between sea and sky. A little later a very serious difficulty presented itself in the shape of an Italian cruiser. We happened to be passing over the sponge beds, and Mohammed applied the circumstance to a very useful purpose. The cruiser was stationed at the western limit of the blockade, her duty of course being to prevent any boats from landing contraband of war, which I personally would have been considered. Mohammed proposed that as the risk of capture TO THE SOUND OF THE GUNS 19 was considerable, and as such an event would mean disaster for us all, I should lie concealed in the boat, whilst they, the crew, were making a pretence of fishing for sponges. He reminded me that I was in European attire, and that the Italians had sharp eyes, and that already we were probably under observation. Then, he said, should Allah give us a fair wind, when night came on we might get through to the harbour of Boukermesh, some twenty-five miles off which we were lying. The monotony of that day can well be imagined as I was lying at full length in the bottom of the boat, curiosity tempting me, almost beyond endurance, to take a peep over the side to discover what was going on, and prudence forbidding me to do so. We had no chance whatever of flight, even had we so desired, for the cruiser's guns would quickly have reduced our little boat to matchwood. On the other hand, if the suspicions of the Italians had been for a moment aroused we should, beyond a doubt, have been taken prisoners, certainly not released until the war had ceased, and poor Mohammed would probably have lost his boat. These were my cheering contemplations the day through, whilst my outlook consisted of the patch of blue sky above me and the bronzed figure of Mohammed with his hand upon the helm. Relief came with the night, for a slight mist crept up, and under that and a fair breeze we sailed over the dangre line. It was impossible, however, to enter the harbour 20 TWO YEARS UNDER THE CRESCENT at nip'tit-time, for the tortuous channel winds between sand-bars, which can only be seen in the daylight. In the early morning we were more fortunate, and soon after the sun was up we were within a few miles of the harbour, which is a most beautiful spot, a natural harbour formed by a sand-bank ten miles long. The water is crystal clear, showing the clean sand at a great depth. There is vegetation in patches, and the number and variety of the birds — wild geese, duck, flamingo, and many others — made me wish that my mission had been game shooting instead of what it was. There in the blazing sun was the fort which I was given to understand was a stronghold of the Turkish forces. Beyond it, against a blue sky, and standing upon a sand-bank at least fifty feet high, was the mosque which marked the last resting-place of the revered Sheik, Sidi Said. To the east a faint trail of smoke marked the position of the Italian cruiser as she steamed slowly off upon her beat as far as Zwarra. At least that destination was a fair assumption, but she might turn at any moment, certainly if the look-out happened to discern us within a suspicious distance of the shore. Our next consideration being the rapid decreasing of this distance, I proposed to Mohammed that we might proclaim our interests by hoisting the Turkish flag. He raised no objection to this, as the cruiser was nearly out of sight, and his suggested fears of the place being deserted were soon dispelled. TO THE SOUND OF THE GUNS 21 Through my field-glasses the movement of figures upon the fort could be distinctly observed moving rapidly about, obviously interested in our approach. So that in the morning sunshine we ran up our flag to the masthead, and for the first time in my life I found myself under the Turkish colours. It was of little interest to me at the moment, but in looking back since that morning the incident has been, many and many a time, a most memorable one. Before noon we cast anchor, and a little later I was deposited with my baggage upon a small ruined causeway. The commander, an Arab, in white garments and wearing a Turkish fez, came to meet me. He appeared to be surprised that neither Mohammed nor myself could communicate anything to him, either as to my wishes or my desired destination. I shook him by the hand and said two words, " Fethy Bey," and stood there feeling like the Saracen maid calling for Beckett in London. Mohammed supplemented this by mentioning Zwarra. Now it happened, as I after- wards discovered, that Fethy Bey was supposed to be in Zwarra, and that my new friend was an Arab sergeant, who with only half a dozen others de- fended this harbour against any attack that the enemy might make. The Arab is always hospitable, and the first thing that he was anxious to do was to introduce me to the fort and his companions its defenders. Fortunately I had coffee and sugar, although tea is always preferred, and with this 22 TWO YEARS UNDER THE CRESCENT light refreshment and ray cigarettes, which still further enhanced my popularity, in a very little time I felt as if we had been friends for years. Before we had been seated half an hour a caravan of camels sprung up, it seemed from nowhere, and a few minutes later I was arranging to buy or hire the whole lot, which consisted of four camels and their drivers. My luck again held good, for this caravan had just arrived from Zwarra bringing provisions and stores, and moreover was just returning there. After some bargaining they consented to convey me and my baggage there for the modest consideration of twenty shillings, an offer of which I very quickly availed myself, with the smallest display of gratification that I could assume. My new friend the Arab sergeant, having delegated the poor protection of the fort to his comrades, insisted upon seeing me in safety to Zwarra, the next post, where he be- lieved Fethy Bey to be. Now I understood from Mohammed that Zwarra was only about fifteen miles away. And so lightly and carelessly I started upon what proved to be more than a fifty miles journey. Not a particularly comfortable one either, for it was vastly different to my other experiences of using a camel as a means of conveyance. In Egypt I remember years ago travelling many hundreds of miles seated luxuriously upon a Mharri or riding camel, where the gentle movement of the animal was almost conducive to sleep, but on this journey all my interests were centred in an anxious TO THE SOUND OF THE GUNS 23 endeavour to maintain my equilibrium. The method of loading the creature is simple if somewhat insecure. First of all your baggage, and any other inci- dentals that the animal may have to carry, are perilously perched upon its back. When it is quite impossible to pile up any more you then mount the load and carefully balance yourself upon the heap as best you can. It has the undoubted advantage of being exciting, but very little else to recommend it. The camel has no bridle, and no girth but ropes ; but it has a net arrangement around its body, something like a capacious holdall, into which you might hope to have the luck to fall if you had the misfortune to lose your balance. I thought that the journey by water had been monotonous, but this, with its discomforts, was even worse. Twelve hours without a halt over rolling sand-hills, with an occasional glimpse of the sea between the dunes. We were all armed, the Arabs with antiquated rifles slung across their backs, and their belts well supplied with ammunition. That such precautions are very necessary here it was quite evident, for we passed several small parties of devilish-looking brigands, who would undoubtedly have molested us had it not appeared to them that we were fairly well able to protect ourselves. About sundown we arrived at an old Roman well, which, judging by its appearance, had served its pur- pose for many a century. Two Arabs who owned 24 TWO YEARS UNDER THE CRESCENT it were waiting there for chance patronage, so that we halted, and refreshed both ourselves and the animals. They gave us dates too, but they were no better than those in the island, and we gave the camels the doubtful benefit of their consump- tion. I was very interested to notice that the rough troughs by the well were mostly of hollowed date palms, probably as ancient as the well itself They reminded me of the old elm water-pipes which are sometimes dug up in London, for like these the date palm wood never rots. We did not halt for long, for the sergeant pointed to the setting sun as a reminder that we had no time to lose, and we were soon off again upon our journey. There was no twilight, of course, and as soon as the sun went down the only light was that of the stars, and the pale crescent moon low down in the sky. About three hours after sunset we came to what appeared to be an endless plain. The silence was weird, for our camels made scarcely any sound as their huge feet fell lightly upon the soft sand. Now and again in the distance we heard singing — some hymn of praise to Allah ; for the Arab, as the Turk, is as likely to forget his meals as to omit his devotions from his daily life. With the night came the dew, and, in contrast to the day, it was intensely cold. I was very glad when, about one o'clock in the morning, we reached Zwarra with what seemed to me to be almost tragic suddenness. v ^m^'%lf — -^^ CHAPTER IV ITALIAN BOMBARDMENT OF ZWARRA My impression of our arrival was that a great arched doorway seemed to swallow the camels one after another, and then, my turn coming, I passed through into a small courtyard, where some trees were grow- ing and several dark forms were rapidly unloading the camels. My sergeant friend managed somehow to secure a room for the accommodation of myself and my various luggage. It was not luxurious, but at least it was a shelter. There was no light and there was no air available, excepting by leaving the door open, for there were no windows or openings of any sort or description. Before I had settled down someone was hospi- table enough to send me some tea, for which I was very grateful, and in spite of the lateness of the hour I soon had a number of callers. A few of them with the only excuse of undisguised curiosity, for they simply peered round the door to inspect me and retired again without saying a word. One or two Arab women paid me this compliment. One of my male visitors happened to know a little French, and we settled down to a very interesting conversa- 26 TWO YEARS UNDER THE CRESCENT tion. I managed to convey to him who and what I was, and carefully represented to him what great people the Central News were, from which I got of course a little reflected glory. He congratulated me at having got so far, in spite of the fact that I was a European, for he told me that the Arabs feel that all Europe is against them, and would naturally regard me as an enemy. Whilst we were conversing a Turkish orderly presented himself, and he was the first Turkish soldier I had ever seen. He came to request my presence at headquarters, for Zwarra had a garri- son, and was commanded by a Bimbashi. I imme- diately followed my conductor, accompanied by my visitors and various loafers who happened to be awake, indeed quite a triumphal procession. And so we made our way along the silent street like shadows, for the soft sand gives no sound to the beat of the foot. In the darkness too I stumbled now and again over objects, animate and inanimate, and finally we plunged into the intense darkness of a grove of date palms. We made our way through this bewildering black- ness for a mile or so, when we arrived at a brilliantly lighted building, where I was at once escorted to a room in which were seated about half a dozen Turkish officers. They stared at me in undisguised aston- ishment, and it seemed to me that my appearance could not have given them greater surprise had I dropped from the clouds. They asked me to be BOMBARDMENT OF ZWARRA 27 seated, and when I said that I was hungry, they fed me with " oeufs au plat," excellent bread, and water to drink. Coffee followed, made as only the Turks know how to make it, and some very fine cigarettes. I told my story, and after a conversation, which of course I could not entirely follow, they intimated to me, through the orderly, that they believed it, and that they would wire to head- quarters at Tripoli for instructions concerning me. I retired to rest that night very willingly, and with bright hopes for the morrow ; but I was just dozing off into a state of happy oblivion after my tiring day when the reports of two big guns, followed by the screams of shells, brought me up with a jump. Almost as suddenly the room became full of Arabs and Turks, gesticulating and arguing in a state of the greatest excitement. Crash ! Bang ! the deafening reports continued incessantly. The Italian bombardment of Zwarra had begun. Hurriedly dressing, I joined, so far as I was able, in the council of war that had been so hurriedly convened. Musa Bimbashi, the commander, perfectly cool and quiet amidst all the excitement of the others, began giving orders in a low sweet voice that sounded almost lover-like in its modulated tones. For him the welcome sound of the guns meant battle, for there is no Yemen Arab who is not a born warrior, caring more for the clash of steel and the smoke and roar of battle than anything else in the wide world. 28 TWO YEARS UNDER THE CRESCENT Their love of fighting is positively fanatic, and they believe most sincerely that all their sins are par- doned and cleansed when they lay down their lives in fighting against an enemy to their faith. We sat down to our consultation, Musa taking the chair at the head of the table, whilst on two large Turkish divans squatted cross-legged a number of Arabs, none of whom had I seen before, but who were introduced to me as the Sheiks and notables of the district. Before we began each and every- one placed his right hand upon my heart, a motion which I followed, as an assurance, it appeared, of their acceptance of me as a comrade and friend. Coffee was served, even under these exciting circum- stances, and a grand pow-wow started as to what was to be done. But the firing eventually dropped as quickly as it had begun, and for the remainder of the night we were left in peace. We were not to be left alone next morning though, for quite early Tewfik Effendi, the scoutmaster, came dashing up upon a fine chestnut Arab horse, to report the news that two Italian warships were rapidly approaching. The wailing notes of the bugles sounded the assembly, bringing all the garrison very quickly to the square ; a fine, well-disciplined body of men they were too, dressed in kharki and wearing the kep or tarbush, with imitation astrachan trim- mings. The officers wore well-fitting tunics, riding- breeches and putties, and were distinguished by six gold stripes cartwheel fashion on the top of the BOMBARDMENT OF ZWARRA 29 tarbush. Musa, the commandant, looked very stately and dis:nified. The mask of indolent carelessness which every oriental affects, scarcely concealed his fiery, ambitious and tempestuous nature. The gleam in his hawk-like eye plainly denoted the autocrat and absolutionist. A face terrible in a way, but yet one to inspire absolute trust and confidence. A magnificent friend, as I am now proud to claim him to be ; a very bitter foe, as the Italians now know to their cost. I later realised why it was that, severe ruler as Musa was, his men were always ready and willing in their devotion to their leader to do positively any- thing under his command. I watched the approach of the warships with interest, those colossal engines of destruction, as they ploughed their way in ominous silence through the blue water. The square was rapidly filling, as now the Arab warriors arrived, marshalled in some sort of order by their Sheiks and mounted upon their mag- nificent Arab steeds, whose silver and brilliant trap- pings glittered and tinkled to the play of those lovely creatures, children of the desert. I found them always to be regarded as one of the family, living as they do with their owners as domestic pets. I will describe a typical Arab warrior, a description that will fairly well serve for them all. Sheik Abdullah was mounted on a tall white charger, the trappings and housings of the Arab saddle being of solid silver. The plates of the breast-strap give forth a pleasant music as they clash in accompani- 30 TWO YEARS UNDER THE CRESCENT ment to the motion of the steed. Full of spirit, like all the Arabs, Abdullah is a master horseman, reining and spurring with shovel-shaped stirrups. The high- spirited animal curvets and rears with blazing eyes and dilated nostrils, as if challenging the enemy. The Arabs formed up in their own peculiar manner, not very regularly, and with much noise and shouting. But the discipline of the chief is soon brought to bear, and they move off in a fairly orderly body, longing to meet the foe. What on earth they expected to do, armed with Mausers and with no artillery, I cannot for the life of me imagine. Ridi- culous as it may appear to be, these fierce warriors were going off to fight Italy's battleships equipped only with spears and rifles. " Voulez-vous regarder, monsieur ? " I turned and found a tall, dark, handsome Arab in Turkish uniform addressing me. " Avec beaucoup de plaisir." Ali Effendi, a Lieutenant of Infantry, as I found him to be, then told me that he had orders to look after me and see that I had a good show to report on the great valour and courage of the Turkish army. Ali explained to me that having to join his company would prevent him from personally accompanying me, but that he had provided an orderly to carry my water-bottle and do any other little devoir ; also to take me to some position where I could get a good view of the combat. I found that the Italians were expected to land, BOMBARDMENT OF ZWARRA 31 eat up all the poor defenders, and camp that day in our quarters. I set off accordingly towards a small blockhouse or marabout just about three miles away. The battle- ships remained stationary, firing a few wretchedly placed shells at the building for which we were making. And as we drew near, with a shout of " Allah Ackbar," the Arab battle-cry, there came rushing a shouting multitude, utterly regardless of the shells, to the poor shelter of the blockhouse. I very soon caught the infection of excitement and ran with the crowd, wondering what would happen, but indeed nothing very terrible took place. The hillside seemed to blossom with Arabs, all squatting down so closely and crowded together with their rifles in hand, that it seemed impossible to walk along without stepping upon them. We waited and watched the ships deliberately steaming round, evidently trying to reconnoitre the position of the small harbour which this cape guarded. Why they did not blow the whole lot of us into eternity was then, and ever will be, a marvel to me. To my intense relief, and the intense disappoint- ment of my companions, they then steamed away to Tripoli. I so soon became accepted as one of themselves that as we sat down in friendly council I pointed out to them that this method of attack would never do. I spoke most feelingly on the subject, and they were very anxious to get my meaning. Doubling up my 32 TWO YEARS UNDER THE CRESCENT two fists, I tried to make them miderstand that should a big shell drop into the closely-packed mob, we should all be morts. Sheik Sultan through an interpreter wanted to know what it was that I so strongly advised. I made a number of holes in the sand, and so got him to understand that separately, should the bomb come, only two or three could possibly be hit, but that if a shell fell into a crowd of them the result would be terrible in the extreme. To this the Sheik said, "Very good, but the Arabs don't fight like that." So ended the first of a long term of bombardments. Zwarra is a big important town, as the chief caravan route passes through it on the way to Tripoli ; more- over, it is the first of a great number of water-bearing oases, so welcome and refreshing in a desert journey. It could not only be defended by land, but the guns of the ships could keep the Arabs at a re- spectful distance ; at least, so the Italians thought at the time w4ien they began the conflict. After this little excitement we got a respite and a few days of social life, and I got to know something of my friends. The barracks face the sea, but they are partially concealed by groves of date palms, whilst a barrier of sand-hills make a most efiicient defence against an attack from that direction, afibrding as it does the most perfect cover from shells. The thick tops of the palm trees, too, give some protection against the most deadly shell of all, the shrapnel. BOMBARDMENT OF ZWARRA 33 Every Arab town has its bazaar or bargaining centre. " I want to make bazaar " is a most common expression, meaning of course to deal or to bargain. This important centre has its cafe, where the latest news is earnestly discussed. In the afternoon I wended my way through the winding main street in company with Ali Effendi and two other Turkish officers. On the shady side of the little square sat Musa Bimbashi, together with various notables and officers, whilst Achmet, the coffee-maker, made his round serving coffee from his small long-handled pan ; and a crowd of beggars and Arabs of all descriptions formed an admiring circle around this central figure, for the autocratic Musa likes to see all his subjects about him, and they certainly have to " toe the line " when he is anywhere around. These pleasant afternoons were spoilt by the reappearance of the Italian men-of-war, and they anchored right opposite the headquarters, as if determined to keep us on the qui vive. The bom- bardment beofan aa:ain, sendino; shells at all hours of the day until our house became quite uninhabit- able, and we had to spend our time down amongst the sand dunes. This was all right and very jolly for a short time, but it became monotonous, for the only recreation was when the guns ceased firing ; and we would creep up, well screened by bushes and date trees, to have a look at the ships, wondering when our punishment would be finished for the day. Looking back now, I really marvel at the chances 34 TWO YEAKS UNDER THE CRESCENT we took, returning at night to sleep in the shell- battered rooms, and not leaving them in the morning until the warning shells hissed and screamed over the barrack square. Rain we had too, and plenty of it. This added to the misery of it all. Nights spent in the trenches under such conditions represent about the lowest depths of physical misery that I can possibly imagine. CHAPTER V SHELL DODGING Nothing surprised me more than the complete and absolute disregard of danger which was displayed by my companions, and their undisguised and profound contempt for the enemy. They were always longing for the Italians to land some troops, and have a chance of a fight, and they did all that they possibly could to lure them into doing so. Whatever may have induced the Italians to hold back, it is certain that the Arabs and the Turks put one construction, and one construction only, upon their reticence, and that was sheer funk and arrant cowardice. " They are not men — they are not soldiers ; they can only fight children." " They *are timid, and more timid than sheep." These and many similar re- marks expressed the intensity of their feeling in the matter. They wanted a show ; they wanted some excite- ment, and were spoiling for a fight — the thicker the better. One morning when I was sitting in the sand dunes, in the midst of my monotonous day-dreams, I heard the sharp crackling of rifle-shots. For a moment I thought that my friends had at last succeeded in 35 36 TWO YEARS UNDER THE CRESCENT luring their prey to land, and as quickly as I could I began crawling through the sparse scrub in the direction of the sound of the firing. There in front of me, with the shrapnel shells literally falling like hail, and bursting in all directions, I could scarcely realise the scene that met my astonished gaze. In the hottest spot of any three fearless Arab warriors had set up a target, and were having a shooting competition, like a miniature Bisley. Care- fully and deliberately taking aim at their target, with shouts of pleasure when they scored, and the shells bursting all around them, they themselves were all the time the target of the Italian gunners. Their Sheik — Sheik Zittan — noticed me, and came laughingly towards me. He said that his men were excited, and found it so unendurably slow with nothing to do, that they had to give vent to some of their superfluous energy by shooting at something, whatever it might be. We were fairly well sheltered where we were squatting, so that I took out my pipe and filled it, but could not get a light, as the wind was so high. The Sheik, seeing my difficulty, called to one of his men, and pointing to the case of a shrapnel which had just exploded, he said : " Bring it here, oh my son." The man brought it along, still hot from its dis- charge, and, holding it to shield my pipe from the wind, he said : " Now, father, light your pipe." SHELL DODGING 37 The firing soon became hotter still, for two more cruisers arrived, with the evident intention of bat- tering the town down about our ears. This time the principal fire was directed against the residence of Musa Bey and the officers' houses. Musa's home, standing high, soon crumbled under the nine-inch shells, and that of Captain Hassan followed. The pathetic part of it was that the women and children were in the houses at the time. It came as a shock to us all to feel that the women and children were not safe. Poor Musa stuck to his duty in the trenches watching the destruction of his home. The terrible anxiety of the man was painful to see. The orderly who was sent off to find out the extent of the damage took nearly three hours to cover a few thousand yards, crawling and creeping along through a perfect hurricane of bursting shells. The ladies fortunately, however, escaped, though naturally very frightened. The condition of poor Musa's wife at the time was such that the terrible shock brought on very serious complications, from which, however, she happily recovered eventually. One night about this time Musa Bey said to me : "Would you like a ride with me to Rigdalene ? I want to go to visit my wife, who is unwell, and also others who are sick, and who are in charge of Hakim Demetrius." I jumped at the offer, for I was getting somewhat weary of Zwarra and its perpetual bombardment. The horses were brought round about eight o'clock. SS TWO YEARS UNDER THE CRESCENT It was already dark, but the sky gleamed with stars, which gave us quite sufficient light for our purpose, whilst fortunately there was not enough for our movements to be detected by the night-glasses of the cruisers. Escorted by Tewfik Effendi and four zeptlrs, or gens d'armes, we started off for the open desert at the back of Zwarra. The night air was still and heavy with perfume. The aromatic desert herbs are always fragrant, but on this particular night the perfume was delightful in consequence of recent heavy rains. Before we had proceeded very far upon our journey the moon arose, a great yellow disc in a purple sky, enabling us to travel more quickly and with greater confidence. About midway between ZwaiTa and Rigdalen^ the road runs between two high sand drifts, conical in shape, whilst at the back of them, on either side, there are a number of neglected gardens. As we passed along this broad defile there was suddenly the flash of a rifle ahead, and a bullet or two sang over our heads. We pulled up sharply, and Tewfik with his zeptirs were ordered to ride ahead and investigate the matter, whilst Bimbashi Musa followed more slowly. At some distance we came upon an innocent-looking caravan of camels striding like deformed shadows ahead of us in the misty moonlight. The zeptirs or gendarmerie had arrested the drivers, and they were bringing them back for the inspection and interrogation of Musa. SHELL DODGING 39 " Bid you fire that rifle ? " he asked sternly of one of them who was carrying a long gun. " No, by Allah, I did not ! " he protested solemnly. Turning to a zeptir, Musa said, " Take his rifle and smell the muzzle." The man did so, and then handed it up to Musa. The smell of it immediately proved beyond question that it had been recently discharged. If there is one thing the Arabs love, it is powder- play in any shape or form. He must fire his rifle whenever he can, at anything or nothing. Now firing rifles at night in any country in war time, where of course martial law has been proclaimed, is a most heinous offence. No one can tell whether it is a friend or a foe, and serious fights have often taken place between parties of friends, each having mistaken the other party for foes. Musa was a strict disciplinarian, and having repeatedly given the most positive orders that this practice was to be stopped, he was furious, both at the offence and the aggra- vation by the man's emphatic denial. I shall not forget the men's frenzied prayers for pardon, nor Musa's stern, relentless face, as he for- feited the guns and personally chastised — none too lightly — the Arabs with his riding-whip. We had no further encounters, and soon rode through the arched door of the Fonduk, which is now used as a hospital. We were welcomed with enthusiasm, ac- commodated with rugs and pillows, and regaled with tea, coffee, and cigarettes. To me it was a most de- 40 TWO YEARS UNDER THE CRESCENT lightful time, for although I could understand scarcely a word of what was said, the romance of the scene quite captivated me. The domed, dungeon-like chamber was lighted by oil lamps, which threw into strong relief the general furniture, the saddle-packs, and all the paraphernalia of war. Outside in the courtyard an emerald moonlight bathed everything in a soft mystery. The sleeping Arabs in their white robes, their horses standing drowsing after a full meal, whilst the orange glow of a watch-fire warmed the surrounding shadows. Over the white walls the tall head of a solitary palm tree showed against the purple sky like a sentinel, each delicate leaf with the clearness of a silhouette. I reclined comfortably against soft cushions, feasting my eyes on this dream-like pic- ture of Oriental life. Later on I enjoyed the soundest sleep, once more untroubled by the hungry boom of guns. The beauty of the scene, however, changed somewhat in the searching light of day. It revealed much squalor and filth, but it was picturesque still in spite of it. I felt hungry, but, Arab fiashion, we stanched our appetites with the thick aromatic coffee of the East and the inevitable cigarette. Starting on our homeward journey, we rode slowly along until the boom of heavy guns reached our ears once more, and the smoke and dust of bursting shells half hid the town of Zwarra from our view. The shells were bounding over the sand, falling miles SHELL DODGING 41 inland. The soft sand preserves their life frequently, for very many failed to explode. Avoiding these unwelcome visitors by making a long detour, we eventually reached Zwarra by the lower caravan track, down amongst the dunes, where the remainder of the day and the whole of the following night were spent, crouching among sandhills and scrub, with never a particle of food for four-and-twenty hours. The following day two Turkish deputies arrived from Ain Zara. One had been preaching the Jehad to the Arab contincrents ; the other one came for the purpose of carrying back to the authorities at Stamboul a fViithful report of the general situation, and the condition of things generally. They had been in the saddle for twelve hours, and appeared to be so exhausted that they were almost too tired to talk with me. They expressed their intention of resting in bed all the day, and then riding at night to Ben Gardane. But they had little rest that day, as before they had retired to bed in the rooms at the barracks, which had been placed at their disposal, the Italian cruisers opened fire upon the building. To give the reader some idea of the headquarters, I may describe the barracks as a long, one-storied building, standing in a small compound. The front of the building faces the sea, and is entered by a gateway over which stands the flagstaff, upon which the Crescent floats bravely. Two old-fashioned lanterns, very similar in appearance, which were 42 TWO YEARS UNDER THE CRESCENT probably at one time used as stern lights in an old ship of the line in the days of Lord Nelson, adorn the pillars on either side. Tall date palms shaded the compound from the sun. A short paved path leads to the terrace, which runs the whole length of the face of the building. At either end the house is entered by means of an arched doorway. My room was on the south side, whilst the room occupied by the officers and the two guests was situated at the opposite end. There was great scurrying as the shells began bursting over- head, officers running, buckling on their swords as they ran, in their anxiety to get the men out of the barracks down to the trenches. The wearied deputies turned out with alacrity, and as Ali Effendi came rushing towards me, together we bolted out of the room, and ran along the front just as a shrapnel burst amongst the branches of the tall date tree. Down came clattering bullets on the corrugated roof, whilst some of them knocked the plaster off the front of the building. Ali stumbled and fell against the wall, and for a moment I thought that he was done for. But he was up again in a moment, and together we had just reached the doorway of the opposite room when a big shell struck the chamber which I had left a quarter of a minute previously. The Italians seemed determined to shatter the place, for there had never before been such a perfect hurricane of shells. We made our way by a long detour through the palm grove to the north, to reach the shelter of the SHELL DODGING 43 trenches. I can hardly describe my sensations as I watched this most destructive of all the attacks. It seemed strange to me too, that the report of the shell exploding like a soft, well-modulated voice, could be heard actually before the sound of the gun. There were the elements of comedy too in the undignified scramble which we had to make. One takes it as a matter of course after a few days' pounding, as one carcely realises that dangers and death lurk in the innocent, parachute-like puff of smoke, like the lightest of summer clouds. Our losses were small ; indeed no one was actually killed, and only a few decorated, as they always describe being wounded. One officer had a very narrow escape, a shrapnel bullet going down through the lining of his coat and harmlessly finding a resting- place in the pocket. The Italian fire was very bad indeed. The horses and camels were placed in a small hollow, about one hundred yards to the west of the headquarters, and although shells were burst- ing close to them the only damage was done to the trees, and none of the beasts were hit at all, although the bombardment practically lasted the whole day. I must not leave my experiences of Zwarra without some reference to the Club, which I some- times visited there. The Turks are a clubable, sociable people wherever they are, and it is customary to have a rendezvous place whatever little convenience there may be. Perhaps it is a close stuffy room, or better still, as here, on the shady side of the square in 44 TWO YEARS UNDER THE CRESCENT the open air. The square is irregular, and the houses follow its contour. Some of the buildings rejoice in a stoep, much broken as a rule ; others stand level with the ground. It was one of the better kind with the stoep that formed the meeting-place of the Circle, as we called it at Zwarra. Here, on most after- noons, Musa and his staff met, surrounded to suffocation by a crowd of worshippers, for Musa Mahomet was little short of an idol. There he drank his coffee and spent the rest of the day- discussing the events of the time. Excellent coffee it was, too, and cost a halfpenny a cup. Sometimes he paid the Arab story-teller to tell us some Oriental romance, which used to remind me of Sinbad in the Ai^abian Nights. Story-telling is a profession, and a lucrative profession here. The tales he told I cannot repeat, because of my inability to follow all that he told us, but that they were of fascinating interest was obvious from the rapt attention with which they were followed, and the hearty laughter which followed the amusing portions of the narrative. When the Italian cruisers gave us a few holidays the bazaar was crowded, and Mahomet, the pro- prietor of the cafe, became in great form, for business was good, as in old times before the war. One afternoon we were all sitting on the shady side of the square, when an Arab came up carrying a six- inch live shell which he had recovered from the desert, and which he was anxious to sell. SHELL DODGING 45 The way he banged it down before us gave me a start, for you can be at too close quarters when a shell explosion takes place. But no particular notice was taken by the others until I explained the danger of handling live shells so carelessly. Musa and the other officers were very curious to know what was inside, whereupon the Arab kindly volunteered to take the fuse out with a cork- screw ! This was a great deal too much for me, so that I arose to go, explaining that I had no wish to continue my journey in a vertical direction, and that I was not going to risk my life in watching the operation. I then gave them a little lecture on the component parts, explaining them by means of a diagram — the amount and position of the explo- sive, the position and action of the fuse, and so on. Tewfik Elfendi, an artillery officer, came up at the moment and at once confirmed all that I had said. Then I advised the owner of the deadly trophy to go and bury it. Whether he acted on my advice or whether it wafted him to paradise I don't know, but the last I saw of him was as he went staggering off under its weight, surrounded and followed by a crowd of curious Arabs. I could write a great deal more of Zwarra, its beauties and its antiquities, but I must hurry on to tell of the more serious and more interesting and exciting fighting at Tripoli. CHAPTER VI I GO ON TO TRIPOLI I LEFT Zwarra with many regrets. During the few short weeks that I had spent there I had made lifelong friendships with both Arabs and Turks, friendships which I shall always highly value. On the 2oth October a telegram arrived from General Neshet giving me permission to join him at the Quartier Generale, and I lost no time in setting off. The journey there, through the oasis, was perhaps the most interesting that I ever experienced. As I previously mentioned, Zwarra is the beginning of a string of oases along the principal caravan route leading to Tripoli. Like all Tripolitaine, the roads are mere tracks, depending upon the whim of the camels, each season new deviations being mapped out according to the herbage, which the animal makes whilst snapping at bushes and scrub en passant. These roads, although fairly well guarded now, were at that time infested with many small bands of loafer Arabs, who are not altogether the most desirable people to encounter. Along the highway to Agelah is one especially desolate part, ideally situated for the operations of these knights of the road. Mid- way it is marked by an ancient Roman well, which has 46 I GO ON TO TRIPOLI 47 never been repaired in any way since the time the Eagles of that Empire halted there. We rested during the heat of the day at this place. The camels browsed on a few tufts of esparto grass, and the Arabs and I refreshed ourselves with a drink of the cool water. My Arab guard, a youth of fourteen or fifteen years of age, unwound his waist-belt and tied one end of it to an amphora, which he lowered into the cool dark depths. I imagined that I could see the Roman hosts performing the same duties, in the same manner and at the same spot, thousands of years earlier. I was travelling along the same road that they traversed then, and with only the same methods of transportation. After the noontide heat had some- what subsided, about four o'clock in the afternoon, we made another start. Old Salim, my henchman, seemed uneasy at the lateness of the hour, for he said that the loafer Arabs lived on this road, and only a day or two previously they had plundered and murdered a party of Tunis merchants. I did not pay much attention, knowing poor old Salim's nervousness at sundown. However, we did notice a band of four Arabs about two thousand yards ofi", keeping pace with our caravan, and undoubtedly prevented from attacking us by the fact that Salim and myself were dressed in the uniform of Turkish soldiers, and in addition to that we had one soldier with us as a guard. Salim warned me to look out, whilst the escort loaded his Mauser, and stepped boldly up to the Arab band. 48 TWO YEARS UNDER THE CRESCENT They then retired, thinking perhaps that dis- cretion was the better part of valour. Agelah is supposed to be eight hours by camel — six upon horseback — but somehow camels never seem to get up to more than 2^ kilometres an hour, and very often less than that, unless kept going at their best by the continual bullying of the drivers. At night too the pace seems to be less. The outskirts of the oasis extend for miles, and one seems never to reach the end of them. About ten o'clock the tired beasts landed us at the great gate of the post. After a good Turkish meal, we speedily forgot the fatigue of the long march. The limitation of space does not allow me to dwell on the beauties of Agelah, a straggling village half hidden by thickets of fruit trees and shaded by tall palms. Mud walls, crowned with cactus, divide the various gardens and effectually prevent the depredations of stray cattle, or of prowling robbers. These cactus hedges are a brilliant feature in the landscape. The thick leaves are fringed, just at that time of the year, with brilliant sun-dyed yellow, later the rosy fruit make a most effective pompon edging. I must say a word of thanks to the kindly Kaim- akhan, one of the best-looking Arab gentlemen I ever had the pleasure of meeting. I threw myself on the cement floor and was soon lost to all mundane affairs in the sweetest sleep that I ever enjoyed, whilst my companions, the Turkish I GO ON TO TRIPOLI 49 officers, waited with stoical patience for the serving of supper. I could not resist the temptation of a short sleep, knowing as I did that the fish forming the repast had yet to be caught ! Time is nothing — of no value, of no consequence — in this serene country of Tripoli. The Turkish officers talked after our supper about the necessity of reaching headquarters without delay. " We shall ride through the night," they said, " if you don't mind coming along with the camels." "All right," I replied laughingly. "You go on and give my respects to the Commander-in-Chief." They certainly did start off about half an hour ahead of me, vanishing down the broad sandy dunes in a cloud of dust ; but at Surman I heard of them only one hour ahead of me, and my pace was about 2J miles an hour. Certainly not more. The rate of travel here is counted by hours, regulated by the camel or snail pace. So many hours to this place or that, they tell you. The horse is supposed to make five to six miles an hour ; but the Arab is liberal in his ideas of mileage, and you can safely add a couple of hours to any journey that they estimate for you. To lovers of nature and of the picturesque such a journey as this must very strongly appeal. The stretch of oasis may be compared to a string of emeralds. The green beauty is so restful to the eye and mind, that one never wearies of gazing at the smooth lawns and park-like vistas. The heavy dark D 50 TWO YEARS UNDER THE CRESCENT green foliage of the fig tree, interspersed with the vivid scarlet blooms and brighter greens of the pomegranate, mulberries, purple and white, shade the draw-wells and carpets of vivid halfa and other garden products, softened in the near distance, as with a veil, by the grey-green of the semi-transparent olive. It all makes an ideal background for the sym- metrical figure of the graceful, gaudily-dressed Arab maidens, flitting from shade to sunshine like brilliant tropical birds. The tranquil scene is further sancti- fied by the musical notes of the mating dove, whilst the bracing effect of the pure desert air, borne on the breeze and blended with the ozone of the sea, make for those in search of rest and peace an ideal paradise. The spell will soon be broken under the stress of mechanical utility. Another, and one of the last of God's earthly sanctuaries, will be destroyed, but it is doubtful if it will add anything to human happiness. These my day-dreams were rudely destroyed by the camel putting his longileg down a hole in the road- way, which it appears was the chimney of an under- ground house ; for here the native burrows abound in the crumbling set of a limestone ridge which crosses the road. Who were this strange people, these trog- lodytes, who fashioned these subterranean houses? They are still inhabited, and simply furnished. A few pots and pans and a little bedding satisfy the primitive needs of this colony of cave dwellers. We entered the outskirts of the important oasis of I GO ON TO TRIPOLI 51 Zarwia, generally rich in tobacco plantations, now entirely neglected. Through repeated natural beauties a narrow lane heralds our approach to the village. Hedges of cactus contract the view, and would be im- passable were it not for the utilitarian camel literally eating our way through, owing to the economical habits of this beast, who dines as he walks along. The growth is thus kept to its proper dimensions, and the hedges trimmed as if by careful gardeners. The bazaar, which you suddenly stumble over, is the most important in the district. Small booths shelter the dry goods merchants and their wares, whilst a venerable mulberry tree shades the vegetable market, the workers in iron and brass, the industrial units of the community, being relegated to the mercy of the blazing sun. The stalls or shops occupy three sides of the square. The fourth towers by proportion, and consists of the Kaserne, or public building. A huge arched gate gives entrance to a compound and barracks ; the prison, and all the buildings connected with officialdom, rest securely under these mighty walls. A room upstairs accommodated me and my belong- ings, where I found to my surprise my friends, the "riders through the night." No explanations were offered, so that I did not ask for any. We just sat down and had our coffee together most amicably. The conversation was most speculative, mostly of course upon warlike subjects, for the guns could be heard continuously and distinctly. 52 TWO YEARS UNDER THE CRESCENT Next morning we all started again as before, and I was left to pursue my journey in solitude. At Zanzur we met again. The flashes of the Italian projections for some reason caused a deal of merri- ment amongst the camel men. They seem unable to realise the utility and the power of modern inventions. Everyone was glibly talking of the re- taking of Tripoli with rifles and swords, of what loot they would get, and how the warriors had all come to get an Italian rifle to carry back to their homes. At this place the real business had begun before I started. I had to inspect and photograph the Zanzur contingent (reserves) ; a fine fierce body they looked too. Apologising for the smallness of his forces, the Kaimakhan explained that I should meet other regiments on the march to Gergorish and Fonduk Touar. We struck ofl" now across the desert, and soon got involved in a maze of barren sandhills ; but the Arabs seem to follow the blank tracks by instinct. We passed the encampment of Zarwia's legions, and struck the fonduk at midday. I was warmly welcomed by the commandant, an Arab Bimbashi, whilst a sumptuous repast was soon in course of preparation. Whilst waiting I walked to the top of the nearest sand dunes from whence the broad panorama of gleaming sand, palpitating in the rays of the noonday sun, quite pained my eyes ; but the alternative view, the ever refreshing blue of the distant sea, cleared and cooled my vision. I saw Tripoli, a fair white arabesque resting on the I GO ON TO TRIPOLI 53 verge. From a big grim gun-boat belched forth flame and wicked volcanic smoke, as she sent shell after shell hurtling through the regions of space it seemed against nothing in particular, unless it were the Turkish camps at Ain Zara, carefully concealed in the desert-hollow, and invisible even with our field-glasses. As to its exact position we could make out nothing, save that here and there were balloon- shaped clouds, the deadly messengers expending their forces in the air or on the sand. The fight was taken up by other ships lying concealed behind the minarets and domes of the city ; a sausage- shaped captive balloon swayed about in the upper currents, presumably giving directions to the gunners. That plain of sand, I thought, as a means of protection, was worth fifty thousand soldiers, for we went back and enjoyed our lunch in spite of the fact that several of the big shells had buried themselves or burst in close proximity to the fonduk. One real danger we very narrowly escaped, a venomous snake, which was killed just outside the tent. Presumably the beast had been lying among the cushions and blankets upon which we now luxuriously rested. A review was held later, and bringing out my camera I photographed these warriors. I heard that my officer comrades were now four hours ahead of me, so that later in the afternoon we were off again. Towards sundown we saw in the distance the tents of Ain Zara. Heavy rain clouds were collecting, which the setting sun painted 54 TWO YEARS UNDER THE CRESCENT with all the glowing reds and yellows of the sub- tropic. Salim, my henchman, was the first to call my attention to a balloon — "ballon" he called it. My attention was riveted on the battleship from which the captive balloon struggled, and also on the speculation as to where the next shell would burst, for we were now in the fire zone, and the ships' guns were in military parlance "searching" the plain. Our caravan must have been conspicuous, as we numbered by now something like fifty, and were escorted by two zeptirs. I replied to Salim, " Yes, I'm looking at it." " No, no, my mister ! Dar oder way ! " he ex- plained in great excitement ; and looking over my shoulder I beheld that marvel of modern ingenuity, the aeroplane scout. As I turned I saw this veno- mous machine change its course, and make directly for my caravan, and with great rapidity she ap- proached. I tried to shout directions to everybody to spread out, but no one seemed to heed ; my camel still doggedly strided along, and the Arabs seeming to be too interested in the flier to think of anything else, even their own safety. The aeroplane was so near to us now that the regular vibration of the Gnome engine could be distinctly heard, and it became louder and louder as it approached us. Pre- sently it was directly over us. "Tir! Tir!" I shouted to the zeptirs, at which they unslung their rifles and made some sporting shots ; but whether they did any damage to the I GO ON TO TRIPOLI 55 machine or to its pilot I could not make out. As she circled she turned once more, and was making for us again, but when the Arabs opened fire it seemed to scare the pilot, for he passed us by and flew on to Ain Zara, evidently reconnoitring the various camps. I gave my men a short lecture on aeroplanes, pointing out the vital parts, and telling them not to expend their bullets on the outspread wings. Should they bring it down, they told me the Italians should be under my protection ; they were not to be killed, but handed over to me to take before the commandant. However, she did not trouble us any more, but made straight for the town of Tripoli. I must give some credit to the valour and pluck of these Italian pilots of aeroplanes. It is a big risk to take, for in case the engines fail them they have to come down ; and in the desert they would probably starve, whilst if captured the chances were that they would have been shot. CHAPTER VII TO GENERAL NKSHET'S CAMPS "Qui vivef" cut the night air! "Oh, my mister, don't laugh, dere's bad man all time here ! " Salim's beseeching instructions were hissed out with quavering breath. It was really only the usual challenge after sunset ; but Salim's fear struck me as being so comical, that I nearly rolled off my camel in an explosion of mirth. " Oh, my dear mister, Mohommedan man no like it ; he shoot for sure," he hissed in another compressed whisper. We ought to have been taken prisoners as sus- pects, and in any army excepting the casual Turks we certainly would have been. Fancy taking the chance of blundering about in the dark amongst all those sentinels ! But these dear kind-hearted stoics, with their entire lack of organisation, and their simple trust, treat the most serious incidents with indifference. Of course we pow-wow'd, and were passed on with little difficulty. By ten o'clock that night I dismounted in the arms of my friend Alan Ostler, one of the riders through the night, who in the journey had beaten me only by about four hours. He showed some TO GENERAL NESHET'S CAMPS 57 anxiety on my account, as it happened that the loafer Arabs had been committing a number of acts of violence against unwary travellers. However, all's well that ends well. Dinner was prepared, but before I sat down to eat I heard from Tahar Bey that a friend of mine lay in the hospital sick unto death. I set off at once on horseback, on a jaunt of only half an hour or so, spent some time in trying to cheer my chum, and mounted my steed to return. A cavalry man was sent to guide me upon the return journey, and he very nearly landed me into the Italian lines ; and then we wandered, heaven knows where, until we had the luck to strike an Arab camp. Although these men had been fighting in the trenches all day long, one of them most cheerfully undertook to guide me back to headquarters, which I eventually reached, tired out, in the early hours of the morning. The following day I spent in visiting the neigh- bouring camps. Owing to the constant shelling from the forts of Tripoli, and from the battleships, Neshet's camp was spread over a large area in small detach- ments, several of which I had to pass before reaching headquarters. They consisted of about a dozen bell tents, the hospital marquee being pitched some distance away to the south. The situation was picturesque, a little dell amongst large sand dunes, which sheltered it on every side. The only danger was from the sky, but at that time the dirigible had not arrived, and bombs from 58 TWO YEARS UNDER THE CRESCENT the aeroplanes were small ; quite sufficient to create a scare, but not so deadly and destructive. Also the great elevation at which they flew presented the camp as a very small target- The following day I reported myself to the General and Fethi Bey. Neshet's tent was furnished with a bed and a couple of chairs, but no table. The Turks write all their despatches and orders, holding the paper in the left hand, and using the forefinger as a desk. A grey ammunition box captured from the Italians gave occasion for a mild joke. The General playfully said, " I'm going to give you some ammunition to eat," and opening the box he produced some excellent oranges and pomegranates which, with a smile, he handed to me. General Neshet is a most unpretending and simple soldier. He is an old Turk. I mean of course '* old " in the sense of being an adherent of the old legislation and the old government under Abdul Hamid. He carries his heavy responsibilities with the usual Turkish sang-froid, and is a good, humane just man, besides being a fine soldier. Indeed he must be, to have kept at bay for so long a time an army perfectly equipped and disciplined, and com- manded by some of the first European generals. The mere anxiety of it would kill many men, but he accepts his position as the will of God, and will willingly die in the last ditch ; but surrender — never ! Neshet is supported by a tried and trusted staff. TO GENERAL NESHET'S CAMPS 59 Fethi Bey, the chief of staff, is a quiet, pensive man, a politician, with the most charming manners, and was until recently military attach^ at Paris. At the call of his country he cheerfully sacrificed the delights and comforts of the French capital for the hard stern life of the field. There is also Djavid, a cultured gentleman; Ismail Hakki, a humorist such as one rarely meets among the Turks, who by nature and habit are quiet and reserved ; Tahar, a dashing soldier, full of verve, the Brigadier Gerard of the Turkish army. They recounted to me their adventures and difficulties in crossing the frontier, and now there they were all together, a merry, hard-working party, taking life as it comes, and paying very little attention to the overwhelming black shadow looming with ever in- creasing blackness overhead. Fethi commands the Arabs, and lives at Suk el Juma, right under the guns of Tripoli. The work is difficult and dangerous, the alertness of the Italians rendering it unsafe to ride there during the day, but at night one can get through without having to dodge big shells. I then paid a visit to Sheik Barouni, who greeted me most warmly, giving me an Italian rifle as a backsheesh. I sat long in his tent drinking sweet bitter tea and listening to stories of the prowess of his warriors, who crowded around the tent to see the strange Igleesi. His tent was of a Syrian pattern, which has scarcely been varied since the days of the Crusaders. In fact, the whole 6o TWO YEARS UNDER THE CRESCENT organisation and travel in these parts seems to be exactly a counterpart of those romantic days. Cushions were placed to support my back, whilst the most expensive silken carpets covered the floor. The space was considerably contracted, used as it was for a general magazine, equipments and stores, &c., the silver harness of the Sheik's war horse, a capture from the Italians, taking up quite a quarter of it. Outside stood the greatest prize of the war, a battered piano taken from the Italians on some daring raid under the very walls of Tripoli. The whole tribe seemed to regard this as a sacred object. Its weight and shape made it a most difficult task to carry it upon the back of a camel, and yet be- fore a move was made this unwieldy treasure had to be sent off, whilst, during one of our retreats, valuable kitchen gear was left behind to bring this cumbersome treasure safely along. As I saw it there, open and exposed to all weather, the ivory off many of the keys, and two camels calmly browsing off the strings, I wondered what its particular attraction could possibly be. But then we Europeans are sometimes apt to treasure the most useless articles. I spent some time inspecting the bivouacking arrangements of these Jebel warriors. Tattered old bell tents lent by the Turks sheltered some, but the more fortunate among them lived in the old Bedouin style, in tents of camel hair, roughly woven, with an oblong strip fastened to the ground with pegs. It is finished ofi by sticking a pole up against the roof. TO GENERAL NESHET'S CAMPS 6i This gives head-room in the centre, but everywhere else one squats and crawls. They have this advantage though, that they withstand the sweeping desert storms, they are rain -proof, cool in summer and warm in the winter. Some less fortunate soldiers had dug holes in the sand, and were sleeping peacefully in their hrams. Forts and battleships kept up a constant shell storm over the neighbouring country, mapping out the desert into sections, each of which are treated con- secutively to a constant baptism of fire. Some in- tuition seems to tell the dwellers in these sections when their turn is coming along, and they move into the neighbouring compounds. All day long the rattle of musketry, the spraying of shrapnel, and the hammering of quick-firers goes on without any intermission. In the east of the town the palms and the gardens stretch as far as Zadjura, where the principal fighting took place with Suk el Juma. As a base, the Arabs have advanced their lines to within a few hundred yards of the walls of Tripoli. The Italians hold many of the gardens, each in itself a strong fort, as the thick walls of mud stop the bullets and fairly withstand the pounding of the field guns. The mighty columns of the date palms are whittled through by the continuous hail of their bullets. The Arabs crawl through these trees to their shallow trenches, within a hundred yards of the compound walls. Singly they skip across the danger zone to crouch at the base, safely ensconced. Our one gun 62 TWO YEARS UNDER THE CRESCENT pounds away until a breach is effected over their heads, and then together they make a rush through, and woe to any ItaUans who wait too long. Then they sleep in the captured position, amusing themselves during the night by shaking the boughs of the cactus, where the straggly boughs and thick oval leaves look just like human heads. Instantly there is a pande- monium of firing, simply hell let loose, whilst the warriors crouch at the foot of the wall in perfect safety and enjoy the fun and wasted ammunition. But there is some method and policy in this too. They have discovered that the enemy have nerves badly, and nothing is more trying to them than to keep these delicate organs always in a state of great tension, hourly expecting an attack, which may be delivered at any moment, or may not come for a week's time. Even should they succeed in reaching these massive walls very long ladders would be required to scale them, and then only to face hundreds of quick-firers lining the battlements. But nothing daunted our gallant army — absolutely nothing but the last great enemy — death ; and I think that it was this element in their nature, amongst many other admirable traits, which unconsciously drew my admiration and my regard towards them. Up to the feast of Bairam matters seemed to be going well. The Sultan sent his salaams to his heroes, and well they deserved the encouragement. But this celebration of the feast of Bairam was the cause of our undoing. Our Arab allies left in their TO GENERAL NESHET'S CAMPS 63 thousands to visit their famiHes to eat the sacrificial lamb. This fact was perfectly well known to the enemy, whose spies of course kept them very well posted as to the doings of the Turkish army. During one eventful night the heavy rain very nearly washed us out of the hollow in which we had pitched our camp. Heavy firing went on all through the night, but nothing more than the average amount. We had made up our minds to have a really good rest and keep in bed until luncheon time. Some sort of presentiment, however, must have prevented us from sleeping. The firing seemed to be more persistent that morning, and the curious snap of bursting shells sounded more distinctly. We tried to believe that this was caused by the humid atmosphere, in which sound travels more quickly. Salim sounded the first note of alarm in the following cheerful manner : " Dese Italian men no good men. Seventy thousand cavalry coming ober dere ; eat all up." We ridiculed the idea, knowing perfectly well that no army in the world possessed such a force. Still there might be some truth in the suggestion of an attack ; such a flanking movement was quite possibly on the cards. There seemed to be an unusual stir and bustle amongst the tents, and knowing the casual easy ways of our friends, I concluded that it might be worth while to do a little private reconnoitring. Alan Ostler agreed to ride out and seek for 64 TWO YEARS UNDER THE CRESCENT intelligence, and whilst he was away I studied the different developments. I noticed that sentries were posted on all the neighbouring points of van- tage. Now a galloper arrived, hot with news that seemed to have a disturbing effect upon the general and his staff, for they mounted their horses and rode rapidly away towards the firing line. Then a little later no doubt at all remained in my mind that affairs were serious, possibly critical, and wounded men began to be carried in. One poor fellow, splashed with blood, was brought in on a donkey, supported on either side by limping comrades, also slightly hurt ; all of them, as I learned later, by the terrible shrapnel. I interviewed Salim, who was already busy packing the gear as quickly as possible. Stray shrapnel sent showers of bullets amongst us, and so the battle for Ain Zara began. My anxiety to get information that might be useful now took up all my attention and energy, so I made off towards the front, the noise and con- fusion increasing as I rode nearer, past groups of fugitives carrying all sorts of household implements, and many of the artillery horses pounding along without the guns. When I came to the bazaar I found Arab merchants hurriedly trying to conclude bargains, even with the shells flying around them, so strong was the ruling passion which always seems to dominate them. Sheik Suleiman Barouni urged these loiterers both TO GENERAL NESHET'S CAMPS 65 •with whip and voice, to cease their business and clear off, but none of them seemed to realise their danger. I rode on to the highest ridge, which commanded the entire position, and from here I could watch the progress of affairs. The Italian attack developed, as they came on in crescent formation, an enveloping movement. The bulk of the army concentrated against our left, and to withstand this tremendous assault we only had eight old patterned Krupp guns, which took half an hour to load, a few hundred Arabs and twenty Turkish infantry. Nazim Bey and some thirty-five cavalry were a few miles away farther to the left, towards Gargerish, the position of battery A, which consisted of three guns, commanded by Achmet Effendi, a sixty-year-old captain. The fourth gun was placed on a hillock called Guzenata, directly opposite Sidi Misri, whereon stood an Italian battery. The remaining battery B was somewhat nearer to Ain Zara, but these guns could not reach the Italians, although they vomited smoke and looked terrible enough. Our skeleton army held their own until the afternoon, when the Italians, who had been advancing in regulation form, stopping to entrench every hun- dred yards or so, arrived within a thousand metres of battery A, which had run out of ammunition. All this time the enemy's guns kept up a cease- less fire from ships, forts, batteries, and machine guns, E 66 TWO YEARS UNDER THE CRESCENT but by some miracle our forces were not decimated. Aeroplanes hovered over us, signalling information of our exact positions to the various batteries and forts, but the Turks stuck to their guns in spite of it all. On the right between us and Suk el Juma a conspicuous conical sand mountain, which had shel- tered the cavalry camp, came in for more than its share of the shell, and I do not think that even a fly could have remained alive upon it. The Arabs, some seven hundred of them, stationed amongst the gardens of Suk el Juma, gave a good account of themselves, fighting with their accustomed ferocity ; they flung back the Italian left, and could reinforcements in sufficient numbers have come up at that critical moment, the battle of Ain Zara would have had a different termination. I heard afterwards that a couple of thousand of these hardy warriors would have well turned the scale, and would have completely cut off the retreat of the Italians back to Tripoli. The order to retire to Bu Gashir, which came about three o'clock in the afternoon, was evidently perfectly incomprehensible to them, after their magnificent behaviour ; but from lack of intelligence nothing was known of what was going on in the south and the west. Upon returning to the camp I found that Salim had already packed, and two camels were staggering under a load quite enough for three. We left nothing behind, but it speaks volumes for the kindness and hospitality of the Turks, that they TO GENERAL NESHET'S CAMPS 67 should leave their gear and carry that of the strangers. Fugitives began to crowd into the place, but there was no confusion, as we all made off for Fonduk Bu Gashir across the trackless desert. The road of course was swept by the Italian guns ; indeed, more than once I heard the whistle of shrap- nel bullets closer to my head than I liked, and added to this an aeroplane swooped here and there across our line of retreat, urging the stragglers and inci- dentally stimulating my own energy. One rather amusing incident occurred near to me during this retreat. As the aeroplane swept over us, that part of the line immediately beneath it swayed and scattered, crouching like a flock of partridges, wait- ing the dreaded bomb. A Turkish captain took a rifle out of the hands of one of the soldiers to have a shot at it. The gun did not go off, for it seems that in the excitement of the moment he forgot to alter the safety spring, and the aeroplane quickly buzzed away out of range. On recovering the rifle, whilst the soldier was examining the spring it went off unex- pectedly, and the charge only just missed the captain ! It is astonishing how vast an area the desert seems to be. There must have been some thousands of fugitives there, and yet I lost myself for fully half an hour, and thought that I might have to spend the night, and perhaps meet a worse fate, in this wilder- ness. The soft yielding sand muffles the footfall and deadens any sound of marching. Fortunately this part of the desert was lumpy, 68 TWO YEARS UNDER THE CRESCENT the drifting sand being piled up in mounds, so that in mounting one of them in order to try and j&nd my bearings, I espied the staff only about a thousand yards away, following the direction of the setting sun. I promptly walked south to cut their trail, and falling in with the ragged irregular procession I continued my march. The way was perfectly defined now, pathetically marked by finger-posts of all manner of debris — saddles, trail ropes, and all sorts of small things. Arab women and children, many of them almost babies, footed it right merrily. One boy, who could not have been more than seven years old, carried a tent pole as large again as himself. War-weary soldiers staggered along, many sufiering from wounds which would certainly have laid most men in hospital. But these decorations are looked upon in much the same way as the ordinary Tommy Atkins regards his war medals. I found my travelling companions very sociable As night fell, the march took on a fresh charm from the mystery of the moonlight in the desert. The temperature lowered, and I felt thankful for my over- coat. A long eight hours' march brought us to the fonduk, and here I found Neshet and his staff sitting cross-legged on the broken dirty floor of the only habitable room in the place, in which useless lumber filled up the corners. By the light of a single candle, which was stuck in a bottle, and with the help of a map spread out upon the floor, the general and his staff talked as calmly as if the defeat was of no consequence. TO GENERAL NESHET'S CAMPS 69 Fethi Bey in his musical voice murmured some- thing about another plan which would make every- thing right. Inshallah ! no one seemed the least bit concerned. Tahar Bey and a few tired cavalry on jaded horses rode back to reconnoitre. I fully expected to see something of the seventy thousand cavalry long ere this, but such was the extraordinary immobility of the enemy that this one perfect opportunity of settling the fate of Tripolitaine was lost. No wonder every- one of my companions took fresh heart, feeling that although the battle was lost they were still conquerors. My baggage arrived with Salim, who scolded me for getting lost and making him cry. He soon got some hot tea, which I directed to be taken to head- quarters, following myself later. Someone, I think it was Fethi, produced a huge box of sardines and some bread, so that with the tea and cigarettes we made a very excellent meal. I think that I felt more sorrow than they. There was something so pathetic in their wild wistful eyes, so heroic under such a crushing reverse. Breakfast, I think that we might call it, was soon despatched. Then Neshet's energy returned, and I left him scribbling orders and commands to waiting orderlies. We could hear in the distance the boom of the artillery, for the Italians pounded away at the sand for a long time after every human being had vanished. And so cheered and in- spired by the war chants of the Arabs the retreat continued, our goal, Azizia, being still many miles away. yo TWO YEARS UNDER THE CRESCENT The stragglers by this time had come up, and we kept a fairly good line of march. Here and there we passed parties of Arabs or soldiers making tea, and laughingly relating their adventures and firing rifles aimlessly to give point to their tales. Other Arab bands replied to this spontaneous musketry by blazing away in return. The whole situation was comical, if it had not been so very serious. Imagine a beaten army, and the enemy supposed to be following us up, firing, drumming, and making noise enough to be heard three miles away ! It looked as if our experiences would be followed by a night attack ! In fact, a friend of mine came riding up and declared that the Italians were on our flank, and that shells were bursting as near as half a mile away. The only explanation I could offer was that the warriors were showing off" their old-fashioned blunderbusses, for many carried this ancient weapon besides a Mauser ; indeed, I have seen these doughty men-at- arms carrying as many as four rifles, and almost his own weight in cartridges, and yet marching four miles an hour, laughing and chatting all the time. There was a sadder side to this picture though. The wounded were having a very bad time. One poor chap, mortally hurt, was stuffed into an old packing-case with his legs bent double, his head lolling over the edge, and all the time uttering faint prayers to Allah, between the jerks of a very rough baggage camel upon which he and a companion on the other side were being borne. He never reached TO GENERAL NESHET'S CAMPS 71 Azizia, poor fellow ; there were a few stifled sobs, the lolling head stiffened, and we left him in a few inches of sand by the wayside. At last we reached Azizia, where a kindly doctor, Orhan Bey, placed his bed at my disposal, and in a state of absolute exhaustion I slept the clock round. The red hill of Azizia rises like an elongated cone to the height of 150 feet direct from the plain. The top is crowned with a marabout, the tomb of Sidi Ramadan, for it is always the custom of the Arabs to bury saints upon the top of the highest hill in the neighbourhood. At the foot there is generally a straggling village and a terrace of burrows or underground houses. The saint soon has plenty of company — for these spots are considered to be holy, and therefore sanctified as a burial-ground. This particular cemetery drains into the village well, and is spreading death and disease throughout the district. These burial-grounds soon get uncomfortably crowded, the shallow graves lie close to each other like furrows, and votive offerings of old rags, stones, and other tokens of enduring love and affection ornament the graves. A line of dusky mountains runs south and west, and their mysterious hollows I yearned to explore. The original plan was to retire to Gherien, a fortress high up among the summits, an impregnable fastness, approached only by a stupendous pass. Hakki Bey brought in the news, incredible as it seems, that the Italians actually retired to their trenches, leaving all 72 TWO YEARS UNDER THE CRESCENT manner of military equipment behind them, and that our soldiers had carried away as much as they pos- sibly could. Neshet and his staff settled themselves tempo- rarily in the house of Kasr or Kaimakhan, sending the wounded along. I followed them at five o'clock in the afternoon, and at the first stage of the journey a halt was made at an underground outpost, quite an ideal place for shelter from aerial bombs. Here we met several ofiicers, and we had a good square meal in comfort. At midnight we started, and reached the curious underground fonduk in the early hours of the morning. Here we were regaled with legbe, or palm wine, and some hot tea. An Arab, who was locally reputed to be more than one hundred years old, kept the fonduk. I might perhaps explain to the reader here that a fonduk is the only equivalent to an inn, but there is none of the welcome hospitality which we associate here with such a resting-place. Fonduks are really lodging-houses, and like them of course they vary in size, some having only a few rooms, whilst others have a great number. Sometimes they are under- ground, sometimes above ground, and built with dried mud walls. In any case, it is arranged that there is a com- pound in the centre for the animals, and the accom- modation rooms extend from this on all sides. The rooms are quite bare, and all that the traveller TO GENERAL NESHET'S CAMPS ^^ considers to be necessary he brings with him, food and all. The only service obtainable is that of the one man who guards the place and its visitors from intrusion or theft, like the night porter at an hotel in this country. In this particular fonduk there are two chambers fashioned out of the rock, and whoever designed the rooms must have had some architectural knowledge. Three E-oman arches canopy the raised platforms on three sides of the chamber ; the workmanship is excellent, and the design true. For a few doxans (one doxan is about twopence halfpenny) you can have the use of one of these lodgings, fleas and all, for the night, and, moreover, be allowed to pack in as many guests as you like. The cost of the accommodation discourages criticism of it. The cooking is done on the floor, the fire filling the place with a strong pungent smoke, disagreeable to the eyes and throat. Arabs, of course, are quite indifferent to such trifles as these. CHAPTER VIII I CONTINUE MY JOURNEY The night travelling is pleasant, but the heat of the day is exhausting. I was surprised to find though that, in spite of the heat, and in spite of the fact that I smoked my pipe incessantly all day long, I scarcely ever suffered from thirst, often travelling in the hot sun for a whole day without a drink of any description. I attribute this largely to an excellent habit which I acquired from the Arabs, and that was to clean my teeth many times a day, and always after any meal, however light. I very strongly recommend this practice. When I started I had a precious bottle of Odol and a tooth- brush, but like all good things the Odol came to an end, and the tooth-brush became worn out, so that after then I did what my companions did, used my fingers to apply the water. Soon after we left the fonduk our road zig- zagged at an almost perpendicular angle up the mountain side. Some slight attempts had been made in the past to improve it, but what struck me was the admirable position it would have been for a defending army. A dozen good shots, with plenty of ammunition, could 74 I CONTINUE MY JOURNEY 75 have kept a thousand men at bay quite easily. It reminded me of the famous pass of Killiecrankie, only it was wilder, grander, and much longer. I felt my spirits rise and my pulse throb with the delightful change of the air and the temperature, for we had reached an altitude of more than a thousand feet above the plain below. A curious round tower, built on the same lines as those famous towers in Ireland, stands like a sentinel at the entrance to the pass. It could hardly have been intended for a watch tower, and for what purpose it had been erected was a matter of conjecture. From the edge of the vertical cliffs the vast plain lay open. The smallest track was perfectly distinct. The unmade road winds its way through hills rich in various produce — corn, vines, and olive groves. At intervals one comes across Roman wells, and small towns of the troglodytes, the dwellers in sub- terranean houses. One first gets a passing glance of a steep stairway leading down to the compound, fifty feet below, and from which rude doorways open into galleries ; all is black darkness, but for the occasional glimmer of an oil lamp in the living rooms of these strange people. The ancient crater of an extinct volcano almost overhung us from the summit, from which the general plan of this town looks singularly like a map of the moon. We journeyed on, through olive groves, gardens and cornlands, to the second pass, steeper, but not quite so long as the first. The fragrance 76 TWO YEARS UNDER THE CRESCENT of wild thyme pervaded the air, and heathy vege- tation covered the slopes. Here and there a wild date palm marks a point in the landscape. The town of Gherien is almost half subterranean. The road ran through gardens of fig and other fruit trees, with a ruined house or two here and there, and we passed into the market square. Here bazaar was going on and brisk trade doing in vegetables and fruits. We found some cigarettes and native tobacco, and incidentally a variety of Manchester goods. Occasionally some good carpets find their way into the suhs, but their values are too well known to give much chance to the bargain hunter. Beggars abounded in profusion ; they were most persistent, and one old chap, more determined than his companions, absolutely refused to leave us until he was backsheeshed. He was a marabout, or pilgrim to the saints' tombs, and it is imperative to give these itinerant saints something, if only the smallest coin you happen to have about you. About a kilometre farther on the road suddenly ended at the gates of a picturesque medieval Arab castle, now used as a barracks, and here we stayed. Its ancient walls are buttressed by precipices. From the giddy height of its now crumbling embrasures the view is absolutely magnificent. The foot-hills and spurs of the mountain run out into the desert. Far away in the distance is the shimmering hazy quivering line of blue sea limiting the plain, whilst very faintly can be distinguished the red hill at THE PASS UP THE MOUNTAIN TO GIIERIEN I CONTINUE MY JOURNEY ^^ Azizia, with the white tomb of the marabout upon its summit, blazing in the sunlight like a flash point over the plain. The caravan routes, like gossamer threads, cross one another again and again, and from the distance look like a woven pattern. On the landward side there is a deep ravine following the slopes of the mountain on which the castle stands. A limpid brook babbles as it runs, watering the jungle of fruit trees that fill this gorge. Everything flourishes in great abundance in this happy tropical valley, open only to the sky. Ter- raced gardens hang on the mountain side, towards which I would see trains of patient donkeys strug- gling with their loads of fresh earth. Tiny rills everywhere supply these hanging gardens with the necessary water. Beautiful as this picture is when veiled in the morning mist, it is doubly so in the glory of the setting sun ; the whole seems bathed in an amber light, transfiguring the landscape into almost a dream-picture of rose gold and eau de nielle. At last night spread its dark pall with almost start- ling suddenness. The silver stars shone with metallic brilliancy contrasted with the dull flickering gold of the camp fires, and all the world seemed to be at rest. Like all Arab buildings the walls of this old castle were in the last stages of dilapidation ; the ironwork encrusted with rust, windows and doors hanging by a single hinge, or lying neglected upon j^ TWO YEARS UNDER THE CRESCENT the ground. The floor of the courtyard consisted of the natural rough surface of the mountain-top, with the more uneven places filled in here and there with rough boulders embedded in cement. Over this uneven floor the pack animals carefully picked their way, until the whole yard was crammed full of slobbering, uneasy camels vainly trying to find sufficient space in which to lie down. To add to the general confusion a number of stallions began fighting, and their drivers shrieking at them to desist. In spite of all this the commissariat party went on methodically weighing sacks of flour and serving out stores in calm indifference to the per- sistent hubbub. In moving about at night in such a compound the unwary runs a good chance of a broken leg, or worse, if not careful in traversing the worn and broken surface. I can compare it to nothing but a slippery, rocky beach. One-storied chambers of various sizes — some dungeon-like, others of noble dimensions — line the old walls, all of them in a picturesque state of dilapidation, for the Arab believes in never repairing anything. Seated upon the rugged platform of the ancient well I noticed an old Arab feeding four camels, and all that he had to give the tired animals was a few pounds of rough grass. An uneven irregular stone staircase, with a broken balustrade, led to the upper chambers, which were originally, I was told, the apartments of the ladies of the harem. The windows, close battened, the tunnel- I CONTINUE MY JOURNEY 79 like passages, the primitive cooking places, all left just as they stood when the Arab potentate ruled over that part of the country ; the stone divans be- neath the windows were just the same. Now these quiet abodes of rest and pleasure resound to the tramp of armed men and the clattering of accoutre- ments. The old chimneys and the old-fashioned fire- places do their duty just as well as ever they did of old. I involuntarily thought of the long years ago when the merry chatter and laughter of beautiful women echoed along these now deserted walls. The thick hanging curtains, embroidered cushions, the priceless carpets, have all gone long since, and where once the lute hung are now suspended revolvers, swords, and cartridge belts. The building next in importance to the one which I have just endeavoured to describe was quite a modern affair ; it had been a school, but is now given over to the use of the E,ed Crescent. Frock-coated, white-collared gentlemen wearing the fez, requested the pleasure of my company to a welcome dinner. I very gladly availed myself of the invitation, and sat down once more to a meal worthy of a Parisian restaurant. The wines of the best, a table of four courses, and dessert ! I found it to be the occasion of the return of Biphat and Jussef Beys from a visit to Paris. They had come to take charge of the hospital, and they pointed out to me with pardonable pride the well- ordered wards, the cases of drugs, the surgical 8o TWO YEARS UNDER THE CRESCENT instruments, and so on. In fact there was nothing to find any fault with at all. Everything was as comfortable and up to date as in a modern hospital in London. I recognised some of my old friends of Ain Zara now recovering rapidly, and anxious to return to fight once more for the Sultan. Of those who benefited the most were many Italian prisoners — " the Signors," as they were respectfully and kindly spoken of I saw five of them playing quoits in the compound, and thoroughly enjoying themselves. The ordinary soldier garb had long since been worn out, and with amusing incongruity they were now dressed in Turkish uniforms. A man named Garganti, one of their number, had been badly shot through the elbow, but thanks to the skill of Eiphat his arm was saved, but never to be of much use again. He talked to me of his far-off home, and how he longed to get there, and how at the end of the war he was to retire with a pension of 1000 lire a month. A small house was placed at their disposal, and also a cooking shed. I could not help thinking that they were probably far more comfortable there than many of their comrades in Tripoli ; and yet when the distant thunder of the big guns faintly echoed through the valley maybe they hoped the time of their deliverance was at hand. But these were not the only captives, four Ascharis (native troops) shared the house with Garganti and his fellow- prisoners. Major Paget and I tried to soften their captivity I CONTINUE MY JOURNEY 8i with presents of cigarettes and tobacco, to which their good-natured gaolers never objected at all. On the last occasion of my visit I noticed that the Aschari seemed buoyed up and more than usually cheerful, and that they were keeping themselves apart from the others. The next morning we heard that three Italian prisoners had managed to escape, but later in the afternoon the news came in that they had been recaptured. Quite a crowd assembled to see these wretched chaps return. It seems that they had marched for five hours and managed to reach the spring at the foot of the mountains. Here they were detected and pounced upon by the watchful gen- darmes, who roped them together and marched them back. I never saw such a hungry, tired, hopeless look- ing lot of men when they arrived after their ten hours of freedom, without food or water. They were well treated by the Turks and not punished, excepting that all privileges were stopped. Poor Garganti and his fellow-soldiers were all confined in the old Arab castle when I last saw them just before I left. Before I started I made several pleasant excursions with my medical friends, and I was surprised at the richness and beauty of the country all around. But we were not without occasional reminders that the business of war was proceeding apace, for reinforce- ments were continually coming in from the far distant Fezzan and the further oasis of the Sahara. F CHAPTER IX BACK TO AZIZIA I WAS sorry to leave Gherien ; the contemplation of a return to the dust and dirt of Azizia was not a very pleasing prospect. At the head of the pass I stood and contrasted the dusty plain below, quivering in the noontide heat, with the delightful comfort of the cool mountain breezes which I was leaving behind me. I travelled all the day, and reached my destination at five o'clock in the after- noon. I was pleased to find some new arrivals ; a Mr. Bennett, ex-M.P., and Captain Bettleheim, of South African fame, a trim, soldierly-looking man, with a keen, alert look. I almost felt ashamed of the comparison between my travel-worn suit and his elegant Bond Street attire. Mr. G. F. Abbott was there too ; he is the great authority upon all things Eastern, and had come to write the history of this war. I felt gratified by the warmth of the welcome that I received from Neshet Bey and his staff". I noticed, however, with much regret, that there were more hospital tents now, and they seemed to be crowded. Salim pitched my tent on the hill, upon the track leading to the cemetery, sq th9