ounding country, and played no
part in Moorish history, save as a base for periodical incursions.
One by one most of them fell again into the hands of their rightful
owners, till they had recovered all their Atlantic sea-board. On the
Mediterranean, Ceuta, which had belonged to Portugal, came under the
rule of Spain when those countries were united, and the Spaniards hold
it still, as they do less important positions further east.

The piracy days of the Moors have long passed, but they only ceased at
the last moment they could do so with grace, before the introduction
of steamships. There was not, at the best of times, much of the noble
or heroic in their raids, which generally took the nature of lying
in wait with well-armed, many-oared vessels, for unarmed, unwieldy
merchantmen which were becalmed, or were outpaced by sail and oar
together.

Early in the nineteenth century Algiers was forced to abandon piracy
before Lord Exmouth's guns, and soon after the Moors were given to
understand that it could no longer be permitted to them either, since
the Moorish "fleets"--if worthy the name--had grown so weak, and those
of the Nazarenes so strong, that the tables were turned. Yet for many
years more the nations of Europe continued the tribute wherewith the
rapacity of the Moors was appeased, and to the United States belongs
the honour of first refusing this disgraceful payment.

The manner in which the rovers of Salli and other ports were permitted
to flourish so long can be explained in no other way than by the
supposition that they were regarded as a sort of necessary nuisance,
just a hornet's-nest by the wayside, which it would be hopeless to
destroy, as they would merely swarm elsewhere. And then we must
remember that the Moors were not the only pirates of those days, and
that Europeans have to answer for the most terrible deeds of the
Mediterranean corsairs. News did not travel then as it does now.
Though students of Morocco history are amazed at the frequent captures
and the thousands of Christian slaves so imported, abroad it was only
here and there that one was heard of at a time.

To-day the plunder of an Italian sailing vessel aground on their
shore, or the fate of too-confident Spanish smugglers running close in
with arms, is heard of the world round. And in the majority of cases
there is at least a question: What were the victims doing there? Not
that this in any way excuses the so-called "piracy," but it mu