Invasion of the Sea. Jules Verne

would be transported in the region south of the Aurès Mountains by a fleet of schooners and tartans, brigs and three-masters, sailing vessels and steamships, to say nothing of a whole native merchant marine. How could the Tuareg ever dream of attacking them? It would mean imminent ruin for these tribes who lived by piracy and pillage.

      The undercurrent of unrest among this particular part of the population was quite understandable. Their imams⁴ were inciting them to revolt. Several times, Arab workers employed in digging the canal were attacked by angry mobs and had to be protected by calling in Algerian troops.

      “What right,” proclaimed the Muslim holy men, “do these foreigners have to turn our oases and plains into a sea? Why do they try to undo what nature has done? Is the Mediterranean not big enough for them, that they must now add our chotts to it as well? Let the Frenchmen sail around on it as much as they like, if that makes them happy, but we are land dwellers, and the Djerid is meant to be traveled by caravans, not by ships. These foreigners must be wiped out before they drown our land, the land of our forefathers, under the invading sea!”

      This growing agitation had played a part in the downfall of the France-Overseas Company. Over time, after the work was abandoned, it had seemed to subside, but the inhabitants of the Djerid were still haunted by the fear that the desert might be invaded by the sea. This fear had been consistently encouraged by the Tuareg ever since they had settled south of the Arad, and by the hajjis, or pilgrims, returning from Mecca, who maintained that their brethren in Egypt had lost their independence with the building of the Suez Canal. It continued to be a universal concern, one that was uncharacteristic of Muslim fatalism. These abandoned installations, with their fantastic equipment—enormous dredges with strange levers that looked like monstrous arms, excavators that might well be compared to gigantic land octopuses—had entered into local legend and figured prominently in the tales told by the country’s yarn-spinners, tales that those people have eagerly listened to ever since the Arabian Nights and the other narratives of countless Arabian, Persian, and Turkish storytellers.

      By reviving memories of people of ancient times, these stories kept the native population obsessed with the idea of an invasion by the sea. It is not surprising, then, that Hadjar and his followers had, prior to his arrest, been frequently involved in aggressive actions against this project.

      For this reason, the engineer’s expedition would be carried out under the protection of an escort of spahis led by Captain Hardigan and Lieutenant Villette. It would have been difficult to find better officers than these two, since they were familiar with the south and had successfully led the difficult campaign against Hadjar and his band. They would study what security measures needed be taken to protect the project’s future.

      Captain Hardigan was in the prime of life, barely thirty-two years old, intelligent, daring but not rash, accustomed to the rigors of the African climate, and possessed of a stamina that he had demonstrated beyond question during his many campaigns. He was an officer in the fullest sense of the term, a soldier at heart, who could see no other career in the world than the army. Since he was a bachelor and had no close relatives, his regiment was his only family, and his comrades-in-arms were his brothers. He was not only respected in the regiment, but loved. The affection and gratitude of his men showed in their devotion to him, and they would have sacrificed their lives for him. He could expect anything from them, and could ask anything of them.