Morocco -- Description and travel; Morocco -- Foreign relations
Later when I had made my peace with him by means of a sixpence I asked
to be allowed to take his picture, at which he was much flattered and
put himself to the trouble of donning a clean coat; though, in order
that no other Mohammedan should see and vilify him, he would consent to
pose only on the upper-deck.
Sailing from under the cloud about Gibraltar the skies cleared rapidly,
and in less than half-an-hour the yellow hills of the shore across
the strait shone brilliantly against a clear blue sky. There was no
mistaking this bit of the Orient. For an hour we coasted through the
deep green waters. Before another had passed a bleak stretch of sand,
as from the Sahara, came down to the sea; and there beyond, where the
yellow hills began again, was the city of Tangier, the outpost of the
East. A mass of square, almost windowless houses, blue and white,
climbing in irregular steps, much like the ‘Giant’s Causeway,’ to the
walls of the ancient _Kasbah_, with here and there a square green
minaret or a towering palm.
We dropped anchor between a Spanish gunboat and the six-funnelled
cruiser _Jeanne d’Arc_, amid a throng of small boats rowed by Moors
in coloured bloomers, their legs and faces black and white and shades
between. While careful to keep company with my luggage, I managed at
the same time to embark in the first boat, along with the mongrel in
the goggles and a veiled woman with three children, as well as others.
Standing to row and pushing their oars, the bare-legged boatmen took us
rapidly towards the landing--then to stop within a yard of the pier and
for a quarter of an hour haggle over fares. Three reals Moorish was all
they could extort from the Spaniards, and this was the proper tariff;
but from me two pesetas, three times as much, was exacted. I protested,
and got the explanation, through the man of many tongues, that this
was the regulation charge for ‘landing’ Americans. In this country, he
added from his own full knowledge, the rich are required to pay double
where the poor cannot. While the Spaniards, the freak and I climbed up
the steps to the pier, several boatmen, summoned from the quay, came
wading out and took the woman and her children on their backs, landing
them beyond the gate where pier-charges of a real are paid.
At the head of the pier a rickety shed of present-day construction,
supported by an ancient, crumbling wall, is the custom-house. Not in
anticipation of difficulty here, but as a matter of precaution, I had
stuffed into my pockets (knowing that my person could not be searched)
my revolver and a few books; and to hide these I wore a great-coat and
sweltered in it. Perhaps from my appearance the cloaked Moors, instead
of realising the true reason, only considered me less mad than the
average of my kind. At any rate they ‘passed’ me bag and baggage with
a most superficial examination and not the suggestion that _backsheesh_
would be acceptable.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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