BUDDING VINES AND ORANGE-GROVES.
The night passed away, and the morning, and the Ville d’Angers did not
appear off the island. The principal had a long and anxious conference
with Mr. Fluxion. There was only one thing it was possible to do, and
that was to send the Prince in search of the missing steamer; but it
was decided to wait a day or two longer before this was done.
The next afternoon the doctor and his little party landed in the city,
and began to explore the place. After months of constant sight-seeing,
they found little in the way of public buildings, squares, or streets,
to engage their attention, and were more inclined to get out into the
country among the budding flowers and orange-groves.
“That’s one of the carts we read of,” said Scott, laughing, as he
stopped to view a sort of sled on which a yoke of small oxen were
hauling a pipe of wine.
“It is one of the kind we see in Funchal, and elsewhere in the island,”
replied the doctor. “Wheels are not practicable among these hills; and
I am not sure that this thing pulls any harder than the car with the
revolving axle which we saw in Portugal.”
“It certainly does not make any more music,” added Murray, referring to
the hideous screeching of the cart they had seen in Lisbon.
The sled was something like a “stone-drag” used in the New England
States. It was a plank eight feet long and a foot and a half wide,
hollowed in the middle so that a wine-cask will fit into it. It was
four inches thick, and pointed off at the bow like a boat. Under it
were two wooden runners. While the students were looking at it, and
while the driver was still yelling with all his might at his diminutive
cattle, a boy threw a sort of mop made of rope-yarns, which he had just
dipped into a puddle of water, under the forward end of the sled. The
runners passed over it, wetting the bottoms, thus making them run a
little easier, and removing the danger of fire from friction.
“This is the Praca Constitucional, a very common name for a square in
Spain and Portugal. It was formerly the ‘Praca da Rainha,’ or Queen
Square; but the Constitution is more popular than the Queen.”
From the square the party passed into the market-place adjoining it.
Provisions, vegetables, fruit, provender for horses, and wood were the
articles on sale. It was just such a sight as they had seen in Lisbon,
and the venders were yelling their wares vigorously when any one that
looked like a buyer came in sight. One man had a pole on his shoulder,
on which were hung by the legs a dozen pairs of chickens, all alive,
and kicking to the extent of their ability. Another had pigeons; but
he had considerately killed them before he suspended them on the pole.
The one who drove a single pig had about the same luck with him as any
other attempting this difficult feat.
“Drive him the other way!” shouted Scott to the Portuguese, pointing
behind the driver.
“He don’t understand you,” interposed the doctor, translating the
remark into Portuguese.
The man laughed as though he had heard the joke before; but he did not
adopt the suggestion.
“What’s the use of that brush they have tied up in bundles?” asked
Sheridan, as they paused before a vender of this sort of merchandise.
“The bakers and others use it to heat their ovens,” replied Dr.
Winstock. “Wood is a very scarce article in Madeira, though the name of
the island in Portuguese means ‘wood.’ There is little or no need of
fuel here, except for cooking purposes. Those bundles of little sticks
are not much better than the fagots. All the coal has to be brought
from other countries; and that makes it very expensive. The wealthier
people and the boarding-houses use it.”
“Boarding the invalids that come here must be a great business
among the people,” said Wainwright, as they passed a group of pale
consumptives, seated in the sun on the Praca.
“It is a very important item of the business of the island.”
“Do you think it does them any good to come here?” asked Scott.
“Undoubtedly it does; though, if you visit the cemeteries, you will
find a great many English and American names on the gravestones. The
great difficulty is that those troubled with pulmonary diseases come
when it is too late for the climate to benefit them.”
[Illustration: LIEUTENANT SCOTT’S ADVENTURE. Page 153.]
The party passed into the principal street of the town, which was
not more than twenty-five feet wide, and it was a broad thoroughfare
for Funchal.
“Every gentleman seems to be acquainted with every lady he meets,” said
Sheridan, as they made their way through the crowded street.
“That remark applies only to the native gentlemen; and it is the custom
for them to lift their hats to every lady they meet,” replied the
surgeon.
“I suppose that is done to make business for the hatters,” added Scott.
“No: the Portuguese are even more polite than the French, so far as
these outward expressions are concerned; but I doubt whether either
would do as much for a lady who really needed assistance as Americans
or Englishmen,” continued the doctor. “I can’t say that I like to see
gentlemen bowing to ladies who are entire strangers to them. It is
making themselves altogether too familiar, though the custom of the
country may justify almost any thing.”
“This looks like Spain,” said Wainwright, pointing to a lot of men
from the country, who were driving three or four donkeys each, loaded
with skins filled with wine. “They leave the legs of the goats on for
handles.”
“Those sacks look something like a goat,” added Murray. “I wonder how
they can sew them up tight enough to prevent them from leaking.”
“They can roll the edges of the skins together a little when they join
them, and sew through four thicknesses of the skin,” replied the doctor.
“Is that Madeira wine in those sacks?” inquired Murray.
“Probably not; for that is a scarce article, even in this island, at
the present time. Porto Santo, or Holy Port, was the first island
discovered and settled. Columbus lived there for a time; and his house
is still shown. He married his wife there. The discovery and settlement
of Madeira followed soon after; and two years later the Portuguese
brought from Candia or Crete a vine which proved to be admirably
adapted to the climate. The wine made from it became celebrated all
over the civilized world. Like port and sherry, it obtained its
peculiar flavor from the kind of grape of which it was made. Ten years
ago, owing to the failure of the vine-crop, there were only four
hundred pipes of it remaining in the island, while twenty-five thousand
pipes had once been the average quantity manufactured in a year. The
disease attacked the vine nearly twenty years ago; but the people
are doing their best to replace it, and doubtless the commerce and
reputation of the island will be fully restored. Probably the greater
portion of all the wine sold for Madeira is not such; and not a little
of it is manufactured in the shops where it is sold, in England and
America.”
The party passed through the town, and went out into the country on
the west side; and, following the road up the hill, they reached the
summit of the “Pico de Sao Joao,” on which was a fort. From this high
point they obtained another view of the city and its suburbs. Beyond
the town the shore of the island was composed of sheer precipices,
hundreds of feet in height. Near them was a “quinta,” or country-house,
of some wealthy islander, to which a beautiful garden was attached. As
they passed the main gate of the grounds, a gentleman attending a very
pretty young lady came out. Dr. Winstock raised his cap to him, and the
young officers followed his example.
The owner of the “quinta” politely returned the salutation, and spoke
to the surgeon in English; for many of the educated people of the
island speak this language, and most of the foreign commerce is carried
on with England. Two saddle-horses were standing at the gate, in charge
of as many servants; but the gentleman and his daughter--for such was
the relation between them--seemed to be in no haste to mount their puny
steeds.
“You are English people, I see,” said he, with a pleasant smile. “My
house and grounds are at your service. This is the quinta da Sao Joao.”
“I thank you heartily for your courteous invitation; but perhaps you
may be disposed to withdraw it when I add that we are not English, but
Americans,” replied Dr. Winstock.
“By no means!” exclaimed the gentleman, whom they afterwards heard
addressed as Don Roderigue. “I repeat it with even more earnestness
than before.”
“Thank you, sir; and we shall be very happy to avail ourselves of your
permission to visit your gardens.”
“You are all officers, I see,” continued Don Roderigue, who evidently
had some Yankee curiosity.
“In one sense we are: we are all connected with the academy squadron,
now moored in the port of Funchal.”
The Portuguese had never heard of it; and the surgeon briefly
explained it, and invited Don Roderigue to visit the ships of the
squadron. He promised to do so, and he and the young lady proceeded to
mount their horses. The father was safely seated on his little steed,
and the groom was assisting the daughter to the saddle, when the little
brute suddenly whirled about like a top, and started off at a dead run.
Dona Maria’s foot had not been fairly placed in the stirrup, nor had
she taken the reins into her hands; so that she was almost helpless.
The two grooms started after the little horse; but, the faster they
ran, the more intent the brute became to get away from them. The
father uttered an exclamation of anguish, and galloped his horse in
the direction the lady’s steed had taken. The students were almost
paralyzed with fear for the safety of the beautiful girl. The runaway
pony turned a corner at the end of the garden; and, at this moment,
Scott darted across the grounds, leaped over a high wall, and came into
a road in the rear of the estate, the geography of which he had been
studying from the top of the Pico de Sao Joao. He came into the road
just ahead of the horse; and he was a long distance in advance of the
grooms and the lady’s father. Dona Maria had evidently lost her footing
in the stirrup; for she had slipped partly off the saddle, and was
clinging with both hands to the pommel.
Scott had thrown off his uniform coat as he ran across the garden, so
that he might be free to act when he tackled the horse; and he felt
strong enough just then to throw him over the high wall if he could
get hold of him. He sprang into the middle of the road; and it was
nothing more than a narrow lane, leading to the stables of the estate,
which the pony seemed to prefer to an excursion in the delightful air
of the afternoon. The vicious little brute saw him, and attempted to
pass at one side of him; but Scott was quick enough to catch him by the
bridle-rein. Then came the tug of war; for the pony was not disposed
to be so easily captured, and began to rear and plunge to disengage
himself from his captor. But Scott was used to horses, and held on. In
a moment he had brought the horse down sufficiently to enable him to
put his arm around the waist of the maiden, and lift her to the ground.
She was out of breath, so that she could not speak, though she gasped
out some sentences in her native tongue, which Scott could not
understand. She was too weak to stand; and the gallant lieutenant was
compelled to hold her with one arm, and the horse with the other, till
assistance came. Don Roderigue was the first to arrive upon the spot.
He leaped from his horse, and seized his daughter in his arms.
“Was she thrown from the horse?” he asked.
“No, sir: I don’t think she can be much hurt,” replied Scott; and he
described her position at the moment he had stopped the pony.
By this time Dona Maria was able to speak for herself; and Scott
thought she had a very musical voice, though, as she spoke in
Portuguese, he could not understand a word she said. The gallop in that
uncomfortable position must have jarred her frame considerably. The
grooms came up, and took charge of the horses.
“Young gentleman, I owe you very great thanks for the service you have
rendered to my daughter and to me,” said Don Roderigue, extending his
hand to the lieutenant.
“Don’t mention it, sir,” exclaimed Scott, laughing at the earnestness
of the grateful father. “We were on the top of that pico, and I saw
this road leading down to the stable. When the horse started, I thought
it likely, as he turned the first corner, that he would make for the
place where he got his oats; and I took a short cut over here. I
happened to be just in the nick of time for business.”
Scott jabbered this off as fast as he could, while he blushed like a
red rose, apparently to interrupt the flow of grateful expressions
to which the gentleman was disposed to give utterance. When he had
finished his explanation of the manner in which he had happened to save
the young lady from a greater disaster, she walked up to him, with a
sweet smile on her face, and extended her hand to him. He could not do
less than take it, though he felt and looked very sheepish about it.
Almost any of the officers of the squadron who had passed the age of
sixteen would have been delighted to take such a little hand as that;
but there was not one in the whole crowd who was so little of a lady’s
man as Scott. When he took the pretty hand, Maria spoke to him in
Portuguese, and shook his great paw.
“Those are my sentiments exactly; and I couldn’t have said it half as
well myself,” he replied, with a broad grin on his face.
“Speak to him in English, Maria: he does not understand you,”
interposed Don Roderigue.
“I shall thank you very much for what you have did for me,” said she
laughing, perhaps because Scott did, or perhaps at the quality of her
own English.
Scott bowed, touched his cap, and turned red again. He was very anxious
to have the subject changed, and insisted that Madeira was a fine
country.
“I say I shall tank you ver much for what you have did for me,”
repeated she, evidently a little vexed.
“Don’t mention it. This is a delightful climate you have here in
Madeira,” stammered Scott.
“He don’t understand my English,” pouted the little beauty, shaking
her shoulders; but, as she spoke in her own language, Scott could not
understand her.
“Maria says she thanks you very much for what you have done for her;
and she is very sorry she cannot make herself understood in English,”
said Don Roderigue.
“I understood her perfectly,” replied Scott.
“But you told her not to mention it; and I am sure that would be very
ungrateful in her.”
“I only meant that what I did was not worth the trouble of mentioning
it.”
“Now say it to him again, Maria, and he will understand you,” continued
her father.
“I shall thank you very much for what you have did for me,” added
Maria, turning to Scott, with a mischievous twinkle in her bright eyes.
“I understand you as well as though you had been my next-door neighbor
in the United States of America all your lifetime,” replied Scott, with
his broad grin.
“Oh! now you spokes too much, and I can’t understand what you speaks,”
chattered the maiden.
“I am happy to please you,” said Scott, measuring off the words one at
a time.
“She has begun to learn English, and she speaks very little yet,” added
her father.
“I am much glad,” shouted Maria, dancing with delight when she realized
that her English had been understood. “I shall forget you never.”
“Beautiful country!” added Scott, flourishing his right hand around him.
“Ver beaut’ful,” cried Maria. “My horse,” and then she pointed at the
pony, and made her hands fly up and down in imitation of the feet of
the animal.
“Ran away,” replied Scott, completing the sentence when she broke down.
“My horse ran away!” she shouted, with childish vim, though she was not
less than sixteen. “You stop my horse. I thank you ver much for what
you have did.”
“May I ride your horse?” asked Scott.
“You? ride horse?”
The young officer then indicated what he wanted in pantomime. Don
Roderigue declared that the pony had always been very gentle, and had
never behaved so badly before since he was a colt. He added that Scott
might ride him if he wished to do so. The joker leaped upon his back
as lightly as a cat; but the little beast began to rear and plunge and
dive in the most extraordinary manner. Scott was a good horseman, and
the pony could not throw him.
“I am confident something ails this horse,” said he, dismounting.
He then unbuckled the girth, and Don Roderigue ordered the groom to
assist in the operation. The saddle was removed, and a large spot of
blood was found on the skin of the horse. Scott looked at it, and
found a wound, made by the sharp point of a nail which had been driven
through the wooden part of the saddle-frame.
“I don’t blame the horse for making a row,” said Scott, as he pointed
out the wound. “Any horse would make a fuss with that nail sticking
into him;” and as he spoke he took his knife, and dug out the offensive
iron.
Maria laughed and danced about all the time; and when the cause of the
pony’s misconduct was discovered, and shown to her, she began to pet
the animal in the most loving manner. She was glad to find that her
steed had a good excuse for his bad behavior. The saddle was restored
to his back, and Scott mounted him again. This time he acted as well as
any pony could.
“You ride?” asked Scott.
“Yes: I ride.”
Her father did not object, and the lieutenant lifted her into the
saddle. She cantered off as briskly as though nothing had happened. Don
Roderigue insisted that Scott should mount his horse, and ride back to
the garden gate, where he had left the rest of the party. In a moment
he overtook the lady. She chatted and laughed all the way, and Scott
felt more as though he had fallen into a sugar-bowl than ever before in
his life.
Don Roderigue decided to postpone his ride, and to entertain the
party. Maria seemed not to be sorry for the change of programme; and
Scott presented her to all his brother officers and to the surgeon.
They spent a delightful afternoon among the budding flowers and
orange-groves of the magnificent estate of their host. He was an
exceedingly hospitable man, and the supper prepared for them was an
elaborate banquet. He was very much surprised that all his guests
should refuse to partake of the old and rare wines he set before them;
but the doctor was able to give him a satisfactory explanation of their
refusal, so that he did not feel hurt.
When they were ready to depart, they found two of the sleds of the
country ready at the door, in which they were to descend the long hill
to the city. They took their seats; and a man placed himself on each
side of the sled, holding a rope from the forward end of the runner to
guide and control the vehicle. They made the descent very rapidly; and
the students declared it was almost as good as coasting on the snow.
The next day Don Roderigue, his wife and daughter, visited the vessels
of the squadron, and were treated with the distinguished consideration
to which their social standing entitled them. The Portuguese gentleman
was delighted with the order and the nautical evolutions of the young
sailors. In return for the courtesy extended to him and his family, Don
Roderigue invited all hands to spend a day at the “Quinta da Son Joao;”
and he insisted that all should come. They all went; and the officers
and seamen had the gayest lark of the year.
Quite a number of Portuguese, English, and French young ladies were
also invited; and the dancing in the great hall of the mansion was
kept up till midnight. Two days later the liberal host invited the
party he had first met to visit the _Curral_, and ascend the Pico
Ruivo. He provided horses, guides, and servants for the excursion, and
entertained them royally till their return to the vessels.
The _Curral_ is the greatest natural curiosity in Madeira. It is a
vast ravine, and may once have formed a deep lake. It is surrounded
by lofty mountains, which add greatly to the grandeur of the scenery.
It reminded the students of the “Dry Dock,” as they called it, in the
Saxon Switzerland.
The _Curral_ is about thirteen hundred feet deep, and the greater
portion of its sides are perpendicular rock. Every thing in the
vicinity is very picturesque, and the students were delighted with the
excursion.