Читать книгу Invasion of the Sea - Jules Verne - Страница 10

ii Hadjar

The Tuareg, who belong to the Berber race, used to live in Icham, the area bounded by Touat to the north (a vast oasis in the Sahara five hundred kilometers southeast of Morocco), Timbuktu to the south, the Niger to the west, and the Fezzan to the east. But at the time of our story, they had been obliged to move to the more easterly regions of the Sahara. At the beginning of the twentieth century, their many tribes, some almost sedentary and others completely nomadic, were to be found in the middle of the flat, sandy plains known in Arabic as outtâ, stretching from the Sudan to the area where the Algerian and Tunisian deserts meet.

For a number of years, after work was abandoned on Captain Roudaire’s project of creating an inland sea in Arad,¹ the region extending westward from Gabès, the resident-general and the bey² of Tunis had persuaded some Tuareg to settle in the oases around the chotts, hoping their warlike nature might make them in a sense the gendarmes of the desert. It was a vain hope. The Imohagh still deserved the insulting nickname of “Tuareg,” or “night bandits,” which had made them feared throughout the Sudan. Furthermore, if work on the Sahara Sea were to be resumed, there was no doubt that they would be in the forefront of the tribes most hostile to the idea of flooding the chotts.

But while any individual Targui might work, ostensibly at least, as a caravan guide and even as its guard, he was nevertheless a thief by instinct and pirate by nature, and his reputation was too well established not to inspire profound distrust. Several years earlier, Major Laing, while traveling through these dangerous lands of the Dark Continent, ran the risk of being massacred in an attack by these fearsome natives.³ And in 1881, during an expedition that left Ouargla under the command of Major Flatters, that brave officer and his comrades lost their lives at Bir-el-Gharama.⁴ The military authorities in Algeria and Tunisia had to be constantly on their guard, relentlessly pushing back those populous tribes.

Of all the Tuareg tribes, the Ahaggar were considered one of the most warlike. Their leading chieftains were involved in all the attempted uprisings that made it so difficult to maintain French influence over the wide expanse of the desert. The governor of Algeria and the resident-general of Tunisia, always on the alert, had to keep a particularly close watch on the region of sebkha and chotts. This was especially important because of a project that was nearing completion, the flooding of the inland sea, which is the theme of this story. It was an undertaking that would create extreme hardship for the Tuareg tribes and deprive them of their source of livelihood by reducing the volume of caravan traffic. By making it easier to quell them, it would also reduce the number of their attacks and the growing list of names that were still being added to African obituaries.

It was to this Ahaggar tribe, one of the most influential, that Hadjar’s family belonged. Enterprising, bold, and ruthless, Djemma’s son had always been known as one of the most redoubtable chieftains in the whole region to the south of the Aurès Mountains. During the past few years he had led many attacks against caravans and isolated detachments. His fame grew among the tribes who were gradually drifting back toward the east of the Sahara, as the vast lifeless plain in that part of Africa is called. He moved with disconcerting rapidity, and, although the authorities had ordered the military leaders to capture him at any cost, he had always been able to elude the expeditions sent out after him. When he was reported to be near one oasis, he would suddenly appear in the neighborhood of another. At the head of a band of Tuareg no less fierce than their leader, he scoured the whole country between the Algerian chotts and the Gulf of Gabès. The kafila, or caravans, no longer dared to set out across the desert without the protection of a large escort, and the heavy traffic bound for the markets of Tripolitania suffered greatly from this state of affairs.

True, there were several military posts at Nefta, Gafsa, and Tozeur, which is the political center of that region, but the expeditions mounted against Hadjar and his band had never had any success. The daring warrior had always managed to escape from them until the day, a few weeks earlier, when he had fallen into the hands of a French detachment.

Gafsa, the kasbah, and the termil. (Photos by Dr. Tersen)

This part of northern Africa had been the scene of one of those catastrophes that unfortunately are all too common on the Dark Continent. The passion, dedication, and bravery of explorers, successors to Burton, Speke, Livingstone, and Stanley, as they set out over the years across this vast field of discovery, are well known. They number in the hundreds, and many more will be added to the list before the day (far in the future, no doubt) when this third part of the ancient world will give up its secrets. And how many of these perilous expeditions will end in disaster!

The most recent expedition was led by a brave Belgian who ventured out into the least frequented and least known regions of the Touat.

Carl Steinx had organized a caravan in Constantine and headed south. It was not a large caravan, about a dozen men in all, Arabs who had been recruited locally. They used horses and méharis, or dromedaries, as mounts and as draft animals to pull the two wagons that carried the expedition’s supplies.

The first leg of their journey brought them to Ouargla by way of Biskra, Touggourt, and Negoussia, where Steinx had no difficulty replenishing his supplies. The French authorities living in those towns promptly came to the explorer’s assistance.

At Ouargla, which lies on the thirty-second parallel, he was, so to speak, in the very heart of the Sahara.

Until then, the expedition’s ordeals had not been too onerous. They had suffered fatigue, even exhaustion, but had encountered no serious dangers. Even in those far-off lands the French influence made itself felt. The Tuareg, outwardly at least, proved to be docile, and the caravans satisfied all the needs of inland commerce without undue risk.

At Ouargla Steinx had to make some changes to his personnel. Some of the Arabs accompanying him refused to go any farther, and he had to pay them off—no easy matter, in view of their insolent demands and ill-tempered squabbles. It was better to get rid of these overtly uncooperative people whom it would have been dangerous to keep as part of the escort.

On the other hand, he could not start out again without hiring replacements, and under the circumstances he clearly had no choice. He thought he had solved this problem by accepting the services of some Tuareg, who offered, for a high price, to accompany his expedition as far as its destination, whether at the west or the east coast of Africa.

Steinx had some reservations about the Tuareg as a people, but how could he have suspected that he was bringing traitors into his caravan, that it had been watched by Hadjar’s band ever since it left Biskra, and that the formidable chieftain was only waiting for the right moment to attack? His followers, who were now part of the expedition because they had been hired to guide the caravan through those unknown regions, would be able to lead the explorer to the point where Hadjar was waiting for him.

That is exactly what happened. From Ouargla the caravan headed south, crossed the Tropic of Cancer, and reached the territory of the Ahaggar. From there it veered southeast, intending to head for Lake Chad. But from the fifteenth day after his departure there had been no news of Carl Steinx or his companions. What had happened? Had the kafila been able to get as far as Chad? Was it now on its way back by the eastern or the western route?

Steinx’s expedition had aroused keen interest among the many geographical societies whose special area of concern was travel to the African interior. They had been kept informed of its itinerary as far as Ouargla. For the next hundred kilometers or so beyond Ouargla, a few scraps of information had still come through, picked up by desert nomads and passed on to the French authorities. It was thought that within a few weeks, under favorable conditions, the expedition would reach the vicinity of Lake Chad.

But weeks went by, and then months, and no news could be obtained about the daring Belgian explorer. Messengers were sent to the far south and French outposts lent a hand in the search, which spread out in every direction. All efforts proved fruitless, and there was reason to believe that the entire caravan had perished, either in an attack by the nomads of the Touat, or from exhaustion and disease in the heart of the immense solitude of the Sahara.

Gafsa. (Photo by Dr. Tersen)

The geographical community did not know what to think, and it was beginning to lose hope, not only of ever seeing Steinx again, but of ever hearing any news of him. But three months later there arrived in Ouargla an Arab who shed light on the mystery surrounding this unfortunate expedition.

This Arab was a member of the caravan’s personnel who had managed to escape. He reported that the Tuareg who entered the explorer’s service had betrayed him. Steinx had been led into an ambush and attacked by a band of Tuareg operating under the leadership of the tribal chieftain Hadjar, already famous for his raids on a number of caravans. Steinx and the loyal members of his escort had defended themselves bravely. For forty-eight hours, entrenched in an abandoned kouba, or chapel, he had managed to hold off the attackers, but the numerical inferiority of the little group made it impossible for them to resist any longer, and they fell into the hands of the Tuareg, who massacred them all.⁵

Gafsa, general view. (Photo by M. Brichard)

Needless to say, this news aroused deep emotions. The outraged public demanded vengeance and grieved for the death of this brave explorer; they insisted that the ruthless Tuareg chieftain, whose name was held up to public loathing, pay for this crime and for his many other attacks on caravans. The French authorities decided to mount an expedition to capture him, to punish him for his crimes, and, in so doing, to eliminate his nefarious influence on the native tribes, who were known to be gradually moving toward the eastern part of the continent and settling in the southern part of Tunisia and Tripolitania. The heavy commercial traffic that traveled through these regions was in danger of being disrupted, or even destroyed, if the Tuareg were not completely subdued. An expedition was therefore ordered. Both the governor-general of Algeria and the resident-general in Tunisia commanded that it be supported by the cities in the region of the chotts and sebkha, where military outposts had been established. For this difficult campaign, which was expected to yield such important results, the Ministry of War assigned a squadron of spahis commanded by Captain Hardigan.

A detachment of some sixty men arrived at the port of Sfax aboard the Chanzy. A few days after disembarking they left the coast and headed west, with their Arab guides and with their supplies and tents carried on the backs of camels. They would replenish their supplies in the towns and villages of the interior, Tozeur and Gafsa among others, and there was no lack of oases in the Djerid region.

The captain had under his command a junior captain, two lieutenants, and several noncommissioned officers, including Sergeant Nicol.

Since the sergeant was with the expedition, that meant that his old brother Giddup and the faithful Ace-of-Hearts were necessarily part of it as well.

The expedition, pacing its marches regularly so as to ensure the success of its journey, crossed the entire Tunisian Sahel, or grassland region. After passing through Dar el Mehalla and El Quittar, it came to Gafsa, in the Henmara region, to rest for forty-eight hours.

The town of Gafsa occupies a plateau surrounded by hills, on a large bend of the Wadi Bayoeh. Several kilometers beyond the hills rises a formidable range of mountains. Of all the settlements of southern Tunisia, Gafsa has the largest population, which lives in an urban area of houses and shacks. It is dominated by the Kasbah, where Tunisian soldiers used to stand guard, but which is now manned by French and native troops. Gafsa can also boast of being a literate community and has a number of schools where Arabic and French are taught. Industry thrives there also, in the form of cloth weaving and the manufacture of silk haiks and blankets and burnouses made from the wool provided by the Hammâmma tribe’s many sheep. One can still see the termil, baths built during the Roman period, and thermal springs whose temperature ranges from twenty-nine to thirty-two degrees centigrade.

In Gafsa, Captain Hardigan obtained more precise information about Hadjar. The Tuareg band had been observed in the vicinity of Ferkane, a hundred and thirty kilometers to the west. It was a long distance to cover but, to a spahi, weariness and danger mean nothing.

When the members of the detachment learned how much energy and endurance their leaders expected of them, they could not wait to start out. As Sergeant Nicol put it, “I’ve spoken to my old brother, and he’s ready to do double route marches if need be. And Ace-of-Hearts would like nothing better than to be in the front ranks.”

Well supplied with provisions, the captain set out with his men, heading southwest. First they had to go through a forest of no fewer than a hundred thousand palm trees, which contained another composed entirely of fruit trees.

They passed through only one settlement of any size between Gafsa and the Algerian-Tunisian frontier. This was Chebika, where the information they had received about the presence of the Tuareg chieftain was confirmed. He was wreaking havoc among the caravans traveling through the far regions of the province of Constantine, adding new attacks on persons and property to his already long dossier of crimes.

A few days’ march from there, when the commandant had crossed the border, he made great haste to reach the village of Négrine, on the banks of Wadi Sokhna.

The day before he arrived, the Tuareg had been spotted a few kilometers to the west, between Négrine and Ferkane, on the banks of Wadi Djerich, which flows toward the large chotts in that region.

Hadjar, who was accompanied by his mother, was reported to have about a hundred men. Captain Hardigan had only about half that number, but he and his spahis would have attacked without hesitation. African troops are not frightened by odds of two to one, and they had often fought under even less favorable conditions.

That was exactly what happened when the detachment reached the neighborhood of Ferkane. Hadjar had been forewarned and was not eager to rush into battle. It would be better, he reasoned, to let the squadron advance farther into this harsh region of large chotts, to harass it with continual attacks, and to send out a call to the nomadic Tuareg, who were moving through the country and would certainly not refuse to join Hadjar, since he was well known to all the Tuareg tribes. Moreover, now that Captain Hardigan had picked up their trail, he would not abandon it and would no doubt pursue them as far as necessary.

In view of this, Hadjar had decided to slip away. If he could cut off the squadron’s retreat after recruiting new partisans, he could probably annihilate the little detachment that had been sent out against him. This would add an even more deplorable catastrophe to the one that had befallen Carl Steinx.

Hadjar’s plans were frustrated, however, while his band was trying to move up Wadi Sokhna to reach the base of Djebel Cherchar in the north. A platoon led by Sergeant Nicol, who had been alerted by Ace-of-Hearts, cut off their line of advance. Fighting broke out and the rest of the detachment soon joined in as well. Rifle and musket shots rang out, interspersed with revolver fire. Some of the Tuareg were killed and some of the spahis wounded. Half of the Tuareg forced their way out and managed to escape, but their leader was not among them.

As Hadjar was spurring his horse to its fastest gallop in an attempt to rejoin his comrades, Captain Hardigan was riding in pursuit, also at top speed. Hadjar tried in vain to knock him out of the saddle with a shot from his pistol. The bullet went wide of its mark. Suddenly his horse lunged to the side and Hadjar, slipping from his stirrups, fell to the ground. Before he had time to get up, one of the lieutenants hurled himself upon him. Other spahis hurried to the scene and held him down, despite his desperate efforts to break free.

Djemma rushed forward and would have reached her son if she had not been grabbed by Sergeant Nicol. But half a dozen Tuareg managed to pull her away from him, and the brave dog’s attempts to attack them as they dashed away with the old woman were in vain.

“I had the she-wolf,” cried the sergeant, “but she slipped through my fingers. Here, Ace-of-Hearts, come here,” he repeated, calling the animal back. “Anyway, the wolf cub is a good prize.”

Hadjar was now in close custody. If the Tuareg did not manage to rescue him before he got to Gabès, the Djerid would finally be rid of one of its most dreaded felons.

The band would undoubtedly have attempted a rescue and Djemma would not have left her son in the hands of the French, if the detachment had not received reinforcements from the military posts at Tozeur and Gafsa.

The capture of Hadjar

The expedition then regained the coast. The prisoner was locked up in the fort at Gabès until he could be transported to Tunis and handed over to the military authorities.

These were the events leading up to the present story. After a short trip to Tunis, Captain Hardigan had just returned, on the very evening when the Chanzy was dropping anchor in the Gulf of Gabès.