OF Larache itself our friends saw nothing, it was passed in the distance, as was also Sallee, a very old town, from which in the seventeenth century Moorish pirates used to steal forth in their swift vessels. With long sweeping oars pulled by slaves to fall back upon when the wind failed to fill the sails, they swooped down upon unprotected merchant ships, carrying off those whom they captured to cruel slavery. There were no pleasant cruises down the coast of Morocco in those days, and woe betide the mariners who might be wrecked on those dreaded shores.
But to every dark cloud there is a silver lining, and it is refreshing to read of men who spent their lives in collecting money wherewith to ransom these poor captives and restore them to their homes.
Nora's-guide book told of Germain Mouette, a Frenchman, who wrote an account of the eleven years he spent as a slave in Morocco, and in that account says that some of these good men, who were known as Redemptionist Fathers, even offered themselves as ransom for their fellows, becoming slaves that others might go free.
How grateful those poor slaves must have felt to those who redeemed them, and at such a cost. But, oh! there is One, the Lord of glory, who gave Himself for us, that He might redeem us from a worse slavery, and bring us home to God. A poor brigand in India who had heard of the love of Jesus, wrote, "I want to be the Lord's bondslave"; and is not that what your heart says too?
“I love to own, Lord Jesus,
Thy claims o'er me divine,
Bought with Thy blood most precious,
Whose can I be but Thine!”
* * * * * * * * *
Gertrude was traveling for her health, indeed it was for this that the voyage had first been thought of, and she usually stayed quietly on board and left her friends free to explore; so once more at Casablanca it was Nora and Elizabeth who went ashore with the other passengers.
Willing hands were stretched out to help them alight from the boat, the Moors proving almost as clever at lending a hand as the sailors on board their own ship. And then, with one guide leading the way and another bringing up the rear, the little party moved on.
Soldiers in uniform, both native and European, reminded them that the place was under French occupation. One or two of the officers they met were splendidly mounted on horseback; they saw camels, too, but these were dirty, vicious looking beasts, and they took good care not to go too close to them.
Beggars seemed to have migrated to Tangier, and there was less here to shock the senses, always excepting that of smell; though even so, the eye was constantly falling on faces deeply pitted by smallpox, and very unhealthy looking pates.
There was much variety in the costumes worn. Old sackcloth formed the covering of the very poor, and between that and the dark blue or black robes of the higher classes, lay a vast range of greens and browns, with here and there a brilliant orange or an amethyst colored cotton gown. Those who boasted trousers wore them of a very simple kind, resembling a sack with two holes cut in it, one for each leg, the said legs being very brown and very bare. Many of them, poor fellows, had bad sores on their shins, for when once the skin is broken and a sore formed it heals with difficulty, owing to the conditions under which they live. It is because of this that Friar's Balsam is so highly prized out there.
Moors love flowers, and there are very beautiful gardens in Morocco. The one which Nora and Elizabeth visited at Casablanca belonged to an English merchant, and they feasted their eyes on brilliant blossoms whose names they did not know. One gorgeous shrub was ablaze with small scarlet and flame-colored blooms growing in clusters, and the guide, seeing their delight in it, broke off small pieces for them to carry away. There were oleanders, bananas and cacti, too, growing in rich profusion, and they saw dates hanging from the palm trees, but they were still unripe.
The day was hot, and they were glad to sit down and rest outside a cafe, while they drank queer-tasting coffee and watched the scene around. Donkeys went staggering past under heavy loads of stone, or laden with planks or piles of goat skins, these last being for embarkation on the Razila.
Presently a little crowd of men and boys gathered to gaze at the strangers, and without knowing it, gave them much entertainment.
The little boys were so charming that Elizabeth quite sympathized with some one who had wanted to take one of them home with her. Many of them had their heads shaved, with just one or two little tufts of hair left, and she had a dim remembrance of having read somewhere that Mohammedans leave that little tuft of hair on their heads in order that they may be lifted up by it to a happy place when they die. Poor little boys, their parents love them dearly and are very proud of them, but they cannot teach them of the Savior who said, "Suffer the little children to come unto me," and who died that they might be washed from their sins, and made fit to live with Him in heaven, for they themselves do not know Him. They are followers of the false prophet Mohammed, a man of sinful, fallen, human nature like our own, who died many years ago, unable to save either his own soul, or those of his millions of followers.
They may indeed have heard of Jesus as a man who went about doing good, but they do not own Him as their Savior Lord, the Son of the Father, "Who, being in the form of God, thought it not robbery to be equal with God: but made himself of no reputation, and took upon him the form of a servant, and was made in the likeness of men: and being found in fashion as a man, he humbled himself, and became obedient unto death, even the death of the cross. Wherefore God also hath highly exalted him, and given him a name which is above every name: that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, of things in heaven, and things in earth, and things under the earth; and that every tongue should confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.”
Dear reader, has your knee bowed to Him? and has your tongue confessed Him Lord?