Part 3

During the day the Governor-General of Gibraltar, Sir George White, whose appointment had recently followed his winning the “Victoria Cross” while in command of troops in South Africa, had been entertained on board the American ship, in company with other notables of the army and navy.

After the ship had been coaled and various stores taken aboard, anchors were weighed and the vessel steamed for Morocco, a sultanate on the northwest coast of Africa. On reaching the straits the signal was given to strip ship for action, all unnecessary impediment was removed from the gun-decks and superstructure, awnings were furled and secured by gasket, spars and davits lowered and all secured in places of safety, while the big eight-inch turret guns free from tompions were trained abeam or at right angles to the ship’s keel.

On entering the harbor of Tangier, the customary salute was fired; this was answered by the crumbling old forts of the Moors, relics of the Dark Ages and monuments of antiquity.

As the cruiser anchored with her starboard battery trained on the city, it was evident that the visit was of far greater import than that of a mere social call.

The pressure of an indemnity is a matter of deep concern, the wilful disregard of which is usually followed by hostilities. When one sovereign nation calls on another sovereign nation to apologize, the first nation is expected to resort to arms if the apology is not forthcoming. Though not representing a sovereign nation, the mission of the _New York_ in the harbor of Tangier was clearly perceptible as an expounder of a precedent.

The grand vizier of the Sultan of Morocco had made himself obnoxious to America by refusing an interview with Mr. Gummere, United States consul at the port of Tangier. For this discourtesy and other claims of the United States long pending against the government of Morocco, it was found necessary to despatch a war-ship to put pressure on the Moors.

The history of the conflicts between the Moors and the United States had covered a period of more than one hundred years, dating back to the naval wars of the infant nation with the Mediterranean pirates. Discriminations against Americans and interference by officials of the Sultan with Americans doing business in Morocco were largely due to the ignorance of the Moors as to the power of the United States.

Claim after claim was ignored by the Sultan. In 1897, in order to bring this sublime potentate to a realizing sense of the importance of recognizing the demands of the United States, the United States cruisers _Raleigh_ and _San Francisco_, in command of Rear Admiral Selfridge, were ordered from Smyrna to Tangier for the purpose of lending support to Consul-General Burke. This act had its effect, as promises were given that in the future discriminations would be eradicated.

In June, 1900, however, the strife was renewed when Marcus Ezegui, who was a naturalized American citizen and manager of the Fez branch of the French firm of Braunschweig and Co., while riding horseback through a narrow street in Fez, jolted against the mule of a Moroccan religious fanatic; a dispute ensued, the crowd siding with the Moor. In self-defence Ezegui drew his revolver and fired, wounding a native. This was the signal for a general attack on the American; he received a dozen knife wounds, and was burned at a stake before life had become extinct.

For this atrocious crime the United States asked an indemnity of $5000 and the punishment of the offenders; the request received little adherence by the Moorish government; then the State Department demanded $5000 for the failure of Morocco to punish the offenders.

After much diplomatic correspondence between Washington and Fez, the Moroccan capital, the United States battleship _Kentucky_ was ordered across the Atlantic to procure the necessary demands. In this she was partially successful, though failing to negotiate the demands in their entirety. Time dragged on and promises remained unfulfilled. The capital was moved time and again between the cities of Tangier and Fez purposely to evade negotiations with the United States. It remained for the _New York_ to consummate a successful issue, in the undertaking of which she was ably commanded by Rear Admiral Frederick Rodgers, whose iron-willed ancestors had bequeathed him a priceless heritage,――the courage of his convictions combined with executive diplomacy.

On the reception of Consul-General Gummere by the admiral, it became known adventitiously that the grand vizier of his Sultanic Majesty, in company with the Sultan, had departed for the city of Fez. This they called moving the capital. With the afore, aft, and waist eight-inch “long toms” trained idly on the city and forts, Admiral Rodgers, with flag-officers and escort and accompanied by Consul Gummere, departed on a small British yacht for the city of Fez, with the determination to promulgate his mission to his excellency’s government,――namely, its choice of a satisfactory adjustment of the indemnity or the unconditional alternate: a bombardment. It is needless to say that this was the final negotiation, terminating with a successful and honorable issue.

A member of the ship’s crew having crossed the “great divide,” permission for the obsequies and burial in Tangier was granted. In a casket draped with the American colors, the body was conveyed by launch to the beach, where pall-bearers, members of the departed sailor’s division, took charge of the conveyance to the cemetery. With muffled drums the band led off, playing a solemn funeral dirge, followed by the procession, which included an escort of honor and firing squad of marines.

A circuitous route of three miles through narrow streets, with buildings crumbling to decay and indicative of architecture of an early period, led us to the cemetery on a shady plateau near the outskirts of the city. Here the cortege halted, and the last rites were solemnized by Chaplain Chidwick of the _New York_, well known as the late chaplain of the ill-fated battleship _Maine_. Three volleys were fired over the sailor’s grave, and the services closed impressively with the sound of “taps,” “lights out.”

As the band struck up “In the good old summer-time,” ranks were broken, and the men roamed at will through the narrow, spicy-scented streets, thronged with semi-barbarians, rough-riding vassals of the Sultan costumed in turbans, sandals, and flowing robes, whose contempt for all foreigners cannot brook restraint. It was a pleasant relief to escape the fumes of this incensed city, to inhale the fresh ozone aboard the man-of-war.

On departing from Morocco, our cruise led to ports along the coast of the great Mediterranean Sea.

III.

Thrilling Adventure with Moors in the “Kasbah” of Algiers

Moonlight on the Mediterranean――Meeting with O’Mally, a Pedestrian of the Globe――“Birds of a Feather” in the Moulin Rouge――A Midnight Hold-up by Moors; O’Mally with Gendarmes and French Soldiers to the Rescue――A Pitched Battle in which Blood Flows Freely――French Soldiers Drink the Health of the United States――Malta and Singers of the “Yama Yama.”

A calm moonlight night on the waters of the Mediterranean Sea is the most awe-inspiring feeling that can be manifested in the heart of a man-of-war’s-man. The dark blue billows, resembling a carpet of velvet, surging in mountainous swells, seem to reflect the glitter of every star in the celestial firmament, while moonbeams dance in shadowy vistas o’er the surface of the deep. It was on such a night that our cruiser plowed her course from Palermo, Sicily, and entered the land-locked harbor of the quaint old capital of Algeria.

I can vividly remember the embodiment of contentment with which I was possessed as I leaned on the taffrail of the ship and beheld the illuminated city of Algiers, rising from the water’s edge diagonally to an immense altitude.

Life-buoys dotted the harbor, and a small light-house played a search-light to our anchorage. After the anchors had been cast, booms spread, the gig, barge, and steam-launches lowered, the deep stentorian voice of the boatswain’s mate could be heard through the ship, piping silence about the deck; taps had been sounded, and all except those on duty were supposed to be swinging in their hammocks.

With the loud report of the morning gun could be heard “Jimmy-legs,” the master at arms, as he made his way through the berth-decks, singing his daily ditty, “Rise, shine, and lash up.” This, repeated rapidly for a period of five minutes, was likened unto a band of colored brethren at a Georgia camp-meeting hilariously singing, “Rise, shine, and give God the glory, glory,” et cetera. In fifteen minutes every hammock had to be lashed according to navy regulations and stored away in the hammock nettings.

After breakfast in port, every man must appear military. Uniforms must be pressed, buttons and shoes polished, and accoutrements ready for inspection, for at eight bells the colors are hoisted, the National air is played by the band, and visits of courtesy commence between the various fleets and shore officers.

The ship’s band renders music three times daily in port, and visiting parties are conducted through the ship. A large number of bum-boats, with their venders of fruit and curios, always surround the ship; these people are an interesting class and present a picturesque scene, with their quaint costumes, noisy chatter, and cargo of varieties.

As in all other ports, the men entitled to “liberty” (a word used to designate shore leave) make their preparation early, then await the noon hour, when the boatswain’s mate pipes his whistle, and cries out: “Lay aft all the liberty party.” All going ashore fall in, in double rank on the quarter-deck, where they answer their names and pass down the gangway and into boats, in which they are conveyed ashore, where the boys cut loose from discipline and nothing is too good for “Jack.”

On our first day in the harbor of Algiers I was on duty, and among other announcements I had to make to the admiral was the announcement of one Mr. O’Mally, a pedestrian from San Francisco, California, who desired an interview with the admiral of the flag-ship _New York_.

Mr. O’Mally was walking around the world for a wager; he had covered the distance from San Francisco to New York, had walked through Europe, and was at this time making his way through Africa. He had come on board the American ship to have Admiral Rodgers sign his credentials showing he had been at this point in Africa on this particular date. At the close of the interview the admiral ordered me to show our distinguished perambulator through the ship. I found him to be a very congenial fellow, and was very much interested with his stories of his travels by foot.

Accompanied by his French interpreter, we started through the vessel, I explaining everything of interest to their apparent satisfaction, after which we returned to the quarter-deck, and, after exchanging cards, Mr. O’Mally and his guide departed for the city, stating that he would probably meet me in Algiers the following day, where I would be on shore leave.

The next day, accompanied by five other marines, with that almost uncontrollable desire for pleasure and excitement known only by the men who undergo the rigid discipline of the navy, I boarded a sampan and was sculled ashore, where numerous guides, always in evidence in foreign ports, offered to conduct us through the labyrinths of gayety. Waving aside these pests, we ascended the stone steps leading to the plaza overlooking the bay and a grand boulevard. This plaza was thronged with pedestrians and equipages of the civic and military, French and Moorish officers, gendarmes, tourists, fakirs, fortune-tellers, Bedouins, and beggars, commingled, forming a most cosmopolitan scene. Seeking an exchange, we converted some money into centimes, sous, francs, and napoleons, and, after purchasing some relics from the bazaars, engaged landaus and proceeded to see the sights of this quaint African city.

Arabs, Moors, Spaniards, Jews, French, Germans, Maltese, and Italians――in fact, every nationality extant――seem to be represented here.

The City of Algiers was built about 935 A.D., was poorly governed by a long succession of Turkish deys, and fell under the yoke of French rule in 1830, obliterating the despotism which had long existed.

The Boulevards, beautifully adorned with arcades and lined on either side with orange and lime trees, are the scenes of magnificent equipages drawn by blooded Arabian horses.

The heat, though at times intense, is mitigated by a delightful cool sea-breeze.

The principal places of interest are the French bazaars, the Catholic cathedral, the hot baths of Hammam Phira, the marketplace, casino, public bath, coffee-houses, theatres, bank, quarters of the soldiers of the foreign legion, the Moulin Rouge, identical with the famous “Red Mill” of Paris, where “birds of a feather flock together,” and where _L’amour et la fumee ne peuvent se cacher_.

Discharging our landaus, we journeyed through the Rue Bab Azoun, passing here and there groups of French and Moorish soldiers, and occasionally brushing against women of the true faith, whose veils hide many a beautiful face.

In the cabarets or cafés which line the plazas, French soldiers can frequently be heard singing the national air of France, the “Marseillaise.” The cosmopolites who comprise the foreign legion are an interesting body of soldiers, representing all nations, but serving under the dominion of the French government. Entering a cabaret where a game of roulette was in progress, we marines took a chance on the roll of the ivory ball, in which some of the party increased their wealth considerably. About every fourth turn of the ball, wine was dispensed. I had been very lucky in my play, having several times picked the number, column, and color at the same time, to the great disgust of the croupier, whose radiant smile beams only when the wheel wins.

As conversation had become boisterous and my luck had taken a sudden turn, I cashed in, and, after thanking the croupier for his kind donations, whose smile portrayed a feeling of derision, I made my exit.

After depositing for safe keeping, in one of the leading hotels, numerous curios and several hundred dollars in French currency, I roved at random through the city without any special point of direction.

Having heard a great deal about the interesting sights to be seen in the “Kasbah,” the Moorish quarter, which is the ancient fortress of the deys and commands a view of the city from a height of five hundred feet above sea level, I ventured to this weird section of the city. Climbing the long winding stairway, or steps of stone, I soon found myself encompassed by a collection of wild-looking Moors in flowing robes, turbans, and sandals, the women similarly dressed, whose veiled faces showed only their eyes, and the artistic tattooing in the centre of their eyebrows, pranced through dimly lighted lanes, like Rip Van Winkle’s hobgoblins of the Catskills.

Being unable to hold conversation with these barbarians, I contented myself with being a silent spectator of their grotesque actions.

After making the rounds of various places of interest, where it was distinctly obvious that I was an unwelcome visitor, I decided to return to the better-lighted and more civilized plazas of the city. As I tried to figure out my bearings on an imaginary compass, I became bewildered, and in consequence followed any street which had an incline.

From the main street of the “Kasbah” are numerous short streets or lanes, which seem to have no connection with other streets, terminating at the entrance to a building. I had tried various ways to reach the steps I had climbed, without success, and here realized the importance of having a guide or an interpreter. Finally I sighted the rays of a search-light, and later a light on the mainmast of a merchant marine entering the bay. Following in the direction of this light, I reached a badly lighted portion of this section of the city overlooking a precipice, when, without a semblance of warning, my arms and feet were pinioned, I was gagged with a roll of hemp, which was placed under my chin and drawn taut around my neck. I made a desperate struggle, but was helpless without the use of my arms, and was compelled to yield when a blood-thirsty brigand placed the point of a dirk against the spring of my affections,――namely, the region of my solar plexus; and it is needless to say that “to slow music” I was relieved of my personal possessions, including my watch, chain, finger-ring, keys, money, letters, and trinkets, by six Moorish brigands, who kindly refrained from casting me over the precipice. As they broke away, I was left to ponder in amazement.

It was absolutely futile for me to think of an attempt at anything except that of securing myself and reaching the heart of the city. At this juncture, and to my great surprise, I was delighted to see, coming out of one of the narrow streets, my friend Mr. O’Mally the pedestrian and his interpreter. Recognizing him instantly, I informed him as to what had happened, which brought a cry from his interpreter for the gendarmes and soldiers. In a few moments the soldiers and police had arrived, and I led them in the direction the bandits had taken, but at night it is impossible to distinguish one Moor from another, for like Chinese they all look alike at night; therefore, the soldiers contented themselves in beating them indiscriminately, as the Moor is the French soldier’s bitterest enemy.

These soldiers, unlike the American soldier, carry their side arms when off duty, and it was with great difficulty that the gendarmes prevented some of the Moors from being killed. At one stage of the game we had a battle royal, and there are a number of Moors in the “Kasbah” who carry scars as evidence of this night’s fracas.

On our return to the plaza, I discovered that besides leaving the buttons on my blouse the robbers had overlooked two gold napoleons which I carried in the watch-pocket of my trousers, and, as the French soldiers were not averse to accepting a potion of wine for their services, it was not long before we were drinking to the health of the United States and the French Republic.

Mr. O’Mally and his guide left the party in the “wee sma” hours of the morning, and, as three years intervened before my return to America, I lost all trace of this interesting gentleman.

Next day while returning to my ship, I received the intelligence that the other marines who had accompanied me ashore had fallen into the hands of the gendarmes for destroying the roulette-wheel and creating a general “rough house,” due, they claimed, to crooked work on the part of the croupier. Later in the day on paying a small fine they were released.

Our stay in Algiers covered a period of ten days, which included Easter Sunday. This was a gala day on the plazas and along the Boulevard; the services in the French cathedral were performed with great pomp and ceremony; flowers were banked in profusion, while the singing of the choir was decidedly of a rare quality.

Before leaving this memorable city I had the pleasure of attending a French masquerade ball in the Rue de Rome, where Parisian dancing novelties were introduced and where fantastic costumes had no limit.

The last day in Algiers was given to a reception, aboard the ship, to the foreign legations. As usual on these occasions, the ship was gayly decorated with flags of all nations. Easter lilies, which had been presented to the admiral by Algerians, fairly covered the quarter-deck. Dancing continued throughout the evening, the guests departing at midnight to the strains of the “Marseillaise.” A few hours later anchors were weighed, and, under a beautiful pale moonlight, our cruiser steamed out of the harbor, carrying with it everlasting memories of the picturesque City of Algiers.

After a cruise of four days the Island of Gozo was sighted, and ere long we had entered and anchored in Valetta, the capital of Malta. A large British fleet lay anchored here, also a yacht having on board his royal personage “The King of Siam,” who was making a cruise of the Mediterranean Sea. “The Duke and Duchess of York,” on board the _Ophir_ bound for Australia, for the opening of Parliament, was also sighted in the Mediterranean Sea.

The Island of Malta is of Arabic origin, but at present an English possession. It is frequently mentioned in Biblical history, having been conquered by the Romans two hundred and fifty years before the birth of Christ.

Near the City of Valetta a spot is pointed out as having been the place where Paul the Apostle’s ship was wrecked.

I heard Captain McKenzie of the _New York_ remark to the admiral that Malta is the only place where a Jew cannot prosper, as a Maltese will beat a Jew.

The principal sights of Malta are the Strada san Giovanni in Valetta, a wide stone stairway lined on either side with buildings of ancient architecture, the ruins of a Roman villa and the Beggar’s Stairs. The Maltese are a musically inclined people, and at night it was very inspiring to hear the young people, as they coursed around the ship in “gondolas,” singing selections from the famous “La Traviata” to the accompaniment of mandolins and guitars, invariably offering as an encore, the ever beautiful, Venetian “Yama Yama,” famous for ages along the shores of the Mediterranean Sea.

It was with regret that Alexandria, our next port, was to end our cruise on this magnificent body of water.

IV.

From the Pyramids of Egypt to Singapore

The Pyramids of Gizeh――The Sphinx――A Famous Relic of the Honeymoon of Cleopatra and Mark Antony――Cairo――Camel Caravansary en route from Syria to Cairo――Suez Canal――Red Sea――Mt. Sinai――Aden――A Monsoon in the Indian Ocean――Singalese of Ceylon――Singapore.

On the arrival of our ship at Port Said, Egypt, the haven of beach-combers and the most immoral city on the face of the earth, preparations were at once made for coaling ship. Lighters loaded with coal were towed alongside, and natives of the Nubian Desert relieved the crew of this detestable task. Men were granted liberty with the privilege of visiting Jerusalem or Cairo. It being necessary to travel by boat a long distance to Jaffa in order to get a train for the Holy Land, I decided to spend the time in seeing the sights of Cairo, the Pyramids, Sphinx, and the Nile.

Securing transportation, I boarded a train for the Egyptian capital; not a very pleasant trip, however, as the heat was intense, and thick gusts of dust were continually blown from the Sahara and Nubian Deserts.

The first novel sight that met my gaze was a camel caravansary with a band of Arabs on their way from Cairo to Syria. Upon entering the city, the Arabic architecture was the first to attract my attention, the mosques and minarets particularly appearing prominent. The streets were thronged with tourists of all nations; camels wending their way and donkeys for hire or sale at every corner gave the city the aspect of the “Far East.”

I visited the Sacred Gardens of the “Howling Dervishes,” the tombs of the Caliphs, an ostrich-breeding house, “Wells of Moses,” the mosque of the Sultan Hassan, and several museums containing relics of priceless value dating back to dynasties before the birth of Christ.

In Shephard’s Hotel, Napoleon’s headquarters during his campaign in Egypt, I saw, guarded with jealous care, the magnificent catamaran or gondola in which the Egyptian Queen Cleopatra cruised the Nile during her ostentatious honeymoon with Mark Antony.