No landscape on the Biscayan coast, presents a more imposing and
picturesque aspect than the little village of Elanchovi. Lying within
an amphitheatre of cliffs, whose crests rise above the roofs of the
houses, the port is protected from the surge of the sea by a handsome
little jetty of chiselled stone; while the single street of which the
village is composed, commencing at the inner end of the mole, sweeps
boldly up against the face of the precipice. On both sides, the houses,
disposed in a sort of _echelon_, rise, terrace-like, one above the
other; so that viewed from a distance, the street presents the
appearance of a gigantic stairway.
In these the common dwellings, there is not much variety of
architecture; since the village is almost exclusively inhabited by poor
fishermen. There is one building, however, that is conspicuous--so much
so as to form the principal feature of the landscape. It is an old
chateau--perhaps the only building of this character in Spain--whose
slate roofs and gothic turrets and vanes, rising above the highest point
of the cliffs, overlook the houses of the village.
This mansion belonged to the noble family of Mediana, and formed part of
the grand estates of this ancient house. For a long period, the Counts
of Mediana had not inhabited the chateau of Elanchovi, and it had fallen
into a state of neglect and partial decay, presenting a somewhat wild
and desolate aspect. However, at the beginning of the year 1808, during
the troubles of the French invasion, the Count Don Juan, then head of
the family, had chosen it as a safe residence for his young wife Dona
Luisa, whom he passionately loved.
Here Don Juan passed the first months of his married life--a marriage
celebrated under circumstances of sad augury. The younger brother of
Don Juan, Don Antonio de Mediana, had also fervently loved the Dona
Luisa; until finding her preference for his brother, he had given up his
suit in anger, and quitted the country. He had gone, no one knew
whither; and though after a time there came back a rumour of his death,
it was neither confirmed nor contradicted.
The principal reason why the Count had chosen this wild spot as a
residence for his lady was this:--He held a high command in the Spanish
army, and he knew that duty would soon call him into the field. The
_alcalde_ of Elanchovi had been an old servant of the Mediana family,
and had been raised to his present rank by their influence. Don Juan,
therefore, believed he could rely upon the devotion of this functionary
to the interests of his house, and that during his absence Dona Luisa
would find security under the magisterial protection. Don Ramon Cohecho
was the name of the chief magistrate of Elanchovi.
The Count was not permitted long to enjoy the happiness of his married
life. Just as he had anticipated, he soon received orders to join his
regiment; and parted from the chateau, leaving his young wife under the
special care of an old and respectable domestic--the steward Juan de
Dios Canelo. He parted from his home never more to return to it; for in
the battle of Burgos, a French bullet suddenly terminated his existence.
It was sad tidings for the Dona Luisa; and thus to the joys of the first
days of her married life succeeded the sorrows of a premature widowhood.
It was near the close of the year 1808, when the chateau was the sombre
witness of Dona Luisa's grief, that our story commences, and though its
scene lies in another land--thousands of leagues from, the Biscayan
coast--its history is intimately woven with that of the chateau of
Elanchovi.
Under ordinary circumstances, the village of Elanchovi presents a severe
and dreary aspect. The silence and solitude that reigns along the
summit of the cliffs, contrasted with the continuous roaring of the
breakers against their base, inspires the beholder with a sentiment of
melancholy. Moreover, the villagers, as already said, being almost
exclusively fishermen, and absent during the whole of the day, the place
at first sight would appear as if uninhabited. Occasionally when some
cloud is to be observed in the sky, the wives of the fishermen may be
seen at the door, in their skirts of bright colours, and their hair in
long double plaits hanging below their waists. These, after remaining a
while to cast anxious glances upon the far horizon, again recross the
thresholds of their cottages, leaving the street deserted as before.
At the time of which we are writing--the month of November, 1808--
Elanchovi presented a still more desolate aspect than was its wont. The
proximity of the French army had produced a panic among its inhabitants
and many of these poor people--forgetting in their terror that they had
nothing to lose--had taken to their boats, and sought safety in places
more distant from the invaders of whom they were in dread.
Isolated as this little village was on the Biscayan coasts, there was
all the more reason why it should have its garrison of _coast-guards_;
and such in reality it had. These at the time consisted of a company of
soldiers--carabiniers, under the command of a captain Don Lucas
Despierto--but the condition of these warriors was not one to be envied,
for the Spanish government, although nominally keeping them in its pay,
had for a long time neglected to pay them. The consequence was, that
these poor fellows had absolutely nothing upon which to live. The
seizure of smuggled goods--with which they might have contrived to
indemnify themselves--was no longer possible. The contraband trade,
under this system, was completely annihilated. The smugglers knew
better than to come in contact with _coast-guards_ whose performance of
their duty was stimulated by such a keen necessity! From the captain
himself down to the lowest official, an incessant vigilance was kept
up--the result of which was that the fiscal department of the Spanish
government was, perhaps, never so faithfully or economically served.
There was one of these coast-guards who affected a complete scepticism
in regard to smuggling--he even went so far as to deny that it had ever
existed! He was distinguished among his companions by a singular
habit--that of always going to sleep upon his post; and this habit,
whether feigned or real, had won for him the name of _the Sleeper_. On
this account it may be supposed, that he was never placed upon guard
where the post was one of importance.
Jose, or as he was more familiarly styled, _Pepe_, was a young fellow of
some twenty-five years--tall, thin, and muscular. His black eyes,
deeply set under bushy eyebrows, had all the appearance of eyes that
_could_ sparkle; besides, his whole countenance possessed the
configuration of one who had been born for a life of activity. On the
contrary, however--whether from a malady or some other cause--the man
appeared as somnolent and immobile as if both his visage and body were
carved out of marble. In a word, with all the exterior marks that
denote the possession of an active and ardent soul, Pepe _the Sleeper_
appeared the most inactive and apathetic of men.
His chagrin was great--or appeared to be so--when, upon the evening of
the day in which this narrative commences the captain of the coast-guard
sent a messenger to summon him to headquarters.
On receiving the unexpected order, Pepe rose from his habitual attitude
of recumbence, stretched himself at his leisure, yawned several times,
and then obeyed the summons, saying as he went out: "What the devil
fancy has the captain got into his head to send for _me_?"
Once, however, on the way and alone, it might have been observed that
the somnolent coast-guard walked with an energetic and active step, very
unlike his usual gait!
On entering the apartment where the captain awaited him, his apathetic
habit returned; and, while rolling a cigarette between his fingers, he
appeared to be half asleep. The captain was buried in a profound
meditation, and did not at first perceive him.
"_Bueno_! my captain," said the coast-guard, respectfully saluting his
superior, and calling attention to his presence. "I am here."
"Ah! good! my fine fellow," began the captain, in a winning voice.
"Well, Pepe!" added he more slowly and significantly, "the times are
pretty hard with us--are they not?"
"Rather hard, captain."
"But you, _hombre_!" rejoined Don Lucas, with a laugh, "you don't appear
to suffer much of the misery--you are always asleep I understand?"
"When I sleep, captain, I am not hungry," replied the coast-guard,
endeavouring to stifle a yawn; "then I dream that the government has
paid me."
"Well--at all events you are not its creditor for many hours of the day,
since you sleep most of them. But, my fine fellow, it is not about this
I desire to talk to you. I wish to give you a proof of my confidence."
"Ah!" muttered Pepe.
"And a proof of my regard for you," continued the officer. "The
government has its eye open upon all of us; your reputation for apathy
begins to be talked about, and you might be discharged one of these days
as a useless official. It would be a sad affair if you were to lose
your place?"
"Frightful! captain," replied Pepe, with perfect simplicity of manner;
"for if I can scarce keep from dying of hunger in my place, what would
be the result were I deprived of it? Frightful!"
"To prevent this misfortune, then," continued the captain, "I have
resolved to furnish to those who calumniate you, a proof of the
confidence which may be placed in you, by giving you the post of
_Ensenada_--and this very night."
Pepe involuntarily opened his eyes to their fullest extent.
"That surprises you?" said Don Lucas.
"No," laconically replied the coast-guard.
The captain was unable to conceal from his inferior a slight confusion,
and his voice trembled as he pronounced the interrogation:--
"What! It does not surprise you?"
"No," repeated Pepe, and then added in a tone of flattery: "The captain
Despierto is so well-known for his vigilance and energy, that he may
confide the most important post to the very poorest of his sentinels.
That is why I am not astonished at the confidence he is good enough to
place in me: and now I await the instructions your Honour may be pleased
to give."
Don Lucas, without further parley, proceeded to instruct his sentinel in
his duty for the night. The orders were somewhat diffuse--so much so
that Pepe had a difficulty in comprehending them--but they were wound up
by the captain saying to the coast-guard, as he dismissed him from his
presence--
"And above all, my fine fellow, _don't go to sleep upon your post_!"
"I shall _try_ not to do so, captain," replied Pepe, at the same time
saluting his superior, and taking his leave.
"This fellow is worth his weight in gold," muttered Don Lucas, rubbing
his hands together with an air of satisfaction; "he could not have
suited my purpose better, if he had been expressly made for it!"