CLIMBING THE ROCK.
It was a bright New-Year's morning, that first day of 1887, and how
could we begin the year better than by climbing to the top of the Rock
to get the outlook over land and sea? The ascent is not difficult, for
though the Rock is steep as well as high, a zigzag path winds up its
side, which to a good pedestrian is only a bracing walk, while a lady
can mount a little donkey and be carried to the very top. If you have
to go slowly, so much the better, for you will be glad to linger by
the way. As you mount higher and higher, the view spreads out wider and
wider. Below, the bay is placid as an inland lake, on which ships of
war are riding at anchor, "resting on their shadows," while vessels that
have brought supplies for the garrison are unlading at the New Mole.
Nor is the side of the Rock itself wanting in beauty. Gibraltar is not
a barren cliff; its very crags are mantled with vegetation, and wild
flowers spring up almost as in Palestine. Those who have made a study
of its flora tell us that it has no less than five hundred species of
flowering plants and ferns, of which but one-tenth have been brought
from abroad; all the rest are native. The sunshine of Africa rests in
the clefts of the rocks; in every sheltered spot the vine and fig-tree
flourish, and the almond-tree and the myrtle; you inhale the fragrance
of the locust and the orange blossoms; while the clematis hangs out its
white tassels, and the red geranium lights up the cold gray stone with
rich masses of color.
[Illustration: GENERAL VIEW OF THE ROCK.]
Thus loitering by the way, you come at last to the top of the Rock,
where a scene bursts upon you hardly to be found elsewhere in the world,
since you are literally pinnacled in air, with a horizon that takes in
two seas and two continents. You are standing on the very top of one
of the Pillars of Hercules, the ancient Calpe, and in full view of the
other, on the African coast, where, above the present town of Ceuta,
whose white walls glisten in the sun, rises the ancient Abyla, the Mount
of God. These are the two Pillars which to the ancient navigators set
bounds to the habitable world.
On this point is the Signal Station, from which a constant watch is kept
for ships entering the Straits. There was a tradition that it had been
an ancient watch-tower of the Carthaginians, from which (as from Monte
Pellegrino, that overlooks the harbor of Palermo) they had watched
the Roman ships. But later historians think it played no great part in
history or in war until the Rock served as a stepping-stone to the Moors
in their invasion and conquest of Spain. When the Spaniards retook it,
they gave this peak the name of "El Hacho," The Torch, because here
beacon-fires were lighted to give warning in time of danger. A little
house furnishes a shelter for the officer on duty, who from its flat
roof, with his field-glass, sweeps the whole horizon, north and
south, from the Sierra Nevada in Spain, to the long chain of the Atlas
Mountains in Africa. Looking down, the Mediterranean is at your feet.
There go the ships, with boats from either shore which dip their long
lateen-sails as sea-gulls dip their wings, and sometimes fly over the
waves as a bird flies through the air, even while large ships labor
against the wind. As the current from the Atlantic flows steadily into
the Mediterranean, if perchance the wind should blow from the same
quarter, it is not an easy matter to get out of the Straits. Ships that
have made the whole course of the Mediterranean are baffled here in the
throat of the sea. Before the days of steam, mariners were subject to
delays of weeks, an experience which was more picturesque than pleasant.
Thirty years ago a friend of mine made a voyage from Boston to Smyrna
in the Henry Hill, a ship which often took out missionaries to the East,
and now had on board a mixed cargo of missionaries and rum! Whether it
was a punishment for the latter, on her return she had head winds
all the way; but in spite of them was able to make a slow progress by
tacking from shore to shore, for which, however, she had less room as
she came into the Straits, through which, as through a funnel, both wind
and current set at times with such force as in this case detained the
Bostonian _five weeks_! "The captain," says my informant, "was a pretty
good-natured man, but as he was a joint-owner of the ship, this long
detention was very trying. But to me"--it is a lady who writes--"it was
quite the reverse. I found it delightful to tack over to the side of
Gibraltar every morning, and drift back every evening to the shores of
Africa, with the little excitement from the risk of being boarded
by pirates in the night! I never tired of the brilliant sunsets,
the gorgeous clouds, with the snow-capped mountains of Granada for a
background. But for the captain (even with missionaries on board, who
were returning to America) the head winds were too much for his temper,
and after vainly striving day after day to get through the Straits, he
would take off his cap, scratch his head, and shake his fists at the
clouds!
[Illustration: THE SIGNAL STATION.]
"After tacking for three weeks off Gibraltar, wearing out our cordage
and exhausting our larder, we put into the bay and anchored. Here we
were surrounded by vessels from all parts of the world, and were so near
the town that we could almost exchange greetings with those on shore.
One Sunday the Spaniards had a bull-fight just across the Neutral
Ground; but I preferred a quiet New England Sabbath on shipboard.
"After lying at anchor in the bay for two weeks I went on shore one day
to lunch with an American lady. Returning to the ship in the evening, I
betook myself to my berth. At midnight I heard unusual sounds, clanking
of chains, and sailors singing 'Heave ho!' From my port-hole I could
see an unusual stir, and dressing in haste went on deck. Sure enough
the wind had changed, and all the vessels in the bay were alive with
excitement. The captain was radiant. I could see his beaming face, for
it was clear and beautiful as moonlight could make it. He invited me to
stay on deck, sent for a cup of coffee, and made himself very agreeable.
We were soon under way. I was in a kind of ecstasy with the novelty and
the beauty of it all. The full moon, the grand scenery, the Pillars of
Hercules, solemn in the moonlight, and the added charm of six hundred
vessels, from large to small craft, all in full sail, made a rare
picture. I sat on deck till morning, and certainly never saw a more
beautiful sight than that fleet spreading its wings like a flock of
mighty sea-birds, and moving off together from the Mediterranean into
the Atlantic."
Such picturesque scenes are not so likely to be witnessed now; for since
the introduction of steam the plain and prosaic, but very useful, "tug"
tows off the wind-bound bark through the dreaded Straits into the open
sea, where she can spread her wings and fly across the wide expanse of
the ocean.
To-day, as we look down from the signal station, we see no gathered
ships below waiting for a favoring breeze; the wind scarcely ripples the
sea, and the boats glide gently whither they will, while here and there
a great steamer from England, bound for Naples, or Malta, or India,
appears on the horizon, marking its course by the long line of smoke
trailing behind it.
To this wonderful combination of land and sea nothing can be added
except by the changing light which falls upon it. For the fullest effect
you must wait till sunset, when the evening gun has been fired, to
signal the departing day, and its heavy boom is dying away in the
distance,
"Swinging low with sullen roar."
Then the sky is aflame where the sun has gone down in the Atlantic; and
as the last light from the west streams through the Straits, they shine
as if they were the very gates of gold that open into a fairer world
than ours.